#i think it is a wildly triggering and painful scene but i think a lot of people took the pain it gave them to mean it was bad art | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaos-thirium · 1 year

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HI CHAOS!

so Do you have a couple line or a paragraph from your works that you’re proud of? Something that you gets you patting yourself on the back? And why?

Feel free to include many. Your work has me floored every time♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

LOVE YOU♥️♥️

Hi lovely!

It's so sweet that you're doing this, going around all the writers 🥰 Of course, every time someone asks me a question like this, I immediately forget everything I've ever written. BUT I've gone through and picked a few bits out, even though I've almost certainly missed stuff I like!

I just want to say that I don't consider myself a great writer, I'm more of a storyteller. I have stories in my head that need to come out, but I'm not super poetic or meaningful a lot of the time. I write fic to have fun, and that's as deep as it goes. If other people like it too, I'm happy!

The first thing that came to mind was from Becoming. I wrote a version of the machine Connor rooftop scene, but with my OC instead of Hank, which was a lot of fun. I got to give Connor a second chance to deviate, and I know a lot of us feel that he should have had one. (This is a big chunk of the scene, but I didn't know where to cut it!)

He stood, turning to face her, the gun aimed at the ground. His expression was neutral, but there was an underlying edge to it, anger or doubt, perhaps.

“I would never have allowed myself to be compromised like that,” he said firmly. “You’re wasting your time if that’s what you’re here for.”

“It is what I’m here for,” Liv admitted. “I want to save you. But more importantly, I’m here to stop you.”

“You can’t,” he declared. “You have no weapon. I’m faster than you, stronger than you, and I don’t feel pain. You don’t stand a chance against me.”

She clenched her teeth, mind racing. He was right. He seemed to take her silence as acceptance, as he turned and crouched, ready to take aim again. She needed to think faster.

With a jolt, an idea struck. But did she have the guts to carry it out, whatever it entailed?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she muttered under her breath, breaking into a quick walk before she chickened out.

There was a low railing surrounding the roof, perhaps a foot or so high. Thanking her lucky stars that it wasn’t windy, she hopped up on it at one corner, one boot sole planted firmly on each side. It wasn’t safe by any means, but she had better purchase than if she’d chosen a flat part of it. She flung her arms out as she got her balance, her palms beginning to sweat.

“What are you doing?” Connor asked her.

He was several feet away from her, and he shot her a frown.

“Stopping you,” she said. “You pull that trigger and I jump, simple as that.”

His LED blinked yellow. She took that as an encouraging sign. Her heart was thumping wildly, her breaths shallow with fear, but she set her jaw and stayed put. Her loose hair fluttered in the breeze, already damp with snow. If she looked uncertain for even a single moment, he wouldn’t believe she was serious.

“I have a mission to complete,” he said, peering down the scope.

“I mean it, Connor!”

“You won’t jump,” he said with certainty. “You don’t want to die.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” she admitted, hearing her voice tremble, and not just with the cold. “But all officers accept that they may be killed in the line of duty. My duty is to protect and serve. That means I protect them.” She gestured to the android protesters. “That means I protect you from doing something I know you’ll regret. So yes, I don’t want to die, but if it’ll wake you the fuck up, then I’m good with it.” Anger strengthened her voice, and her last words were practically spat out.

Connor’s LED turned red, and there was a faint strand of panic in his tone. “CyberLife doesn’t care if you’re collateral, Liv. Get down.”

“Think about what you just said. CyberLife – a company who manufactures androids – doesn’t care if I die just as long as you kill a man who’s protesting peacefully. Really think about that and ask yourself if you’re on the right side.”

His LED started to flicker wildly, still that angry shade of red. His hands were steady on the rifle, but they were slow to raise it.

“You know you’re more than your program,” Liv went on. “Please, Connor. Save yourself. Save them. Save me. Don’t shoot.”

He aimed the rifle, bent his head to look down the scope, but his finger froze on the trigger.

Liv almost couldn’t breathe, and she scrambled for more to say. Her words were having an effect.

“I know you,” she began.

Without warning, the section of railing under her right foot gave way with a metallic groan, and she gasped as she fell. Her upper body hit the side of the roof, and she felt the air rush out of her lungs, pain lancing across her chest. She tried to haul herself up, but couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t gain traction, and she fell again, this time out into nothingness. With one numb, desperate hand, she managed to cling to the broken railing, which she knew could fail her at any time.

A hoarse, panicked cry tore from her throat, and she glanced down. She was too high to survive the fall, she was almost certain of that. The fire blossoming across her ribs made it difficult to think, and her head was a mad scramble of fear and panic and pain.

Then a hand closed around her wrist and pulled her upwards, and she whimpered. He grabbed her other arm as her boot soles touched the roof, and moved her away from the edge. She made it about five steps before her knees buckled under her, and he caught her, easing them both down until they were kneeling. The snow soaked through her uniform in seconds, but she barely felt it.

Through the chaotic buzzing in her head, she heard him calling her name.

“Liv, Liv, look at me.”

His hand cupped her numb face, and her eyes found his.

“You’re okay,” he told her. “You’re safe.”

Echoes of words she’d said to him once. In a rush, she broke back through to the present, vision and sounds becoming sharper, the cold and the pain more acute. But it meant that she was alive. Maybe it meant that he was too.

The next thing is this little paragraph from Intrigue. For some reason, it just captured the vibe of this relationship between three people, and I think it's pretty hot.

Elijah groaned, experiencing the fresh, musky taste of you on Connor’s soft lips, feeling the velvety tongue that had just brought you to orgasm caressing his own. God, if he hadn’t been hard before, he certainly was now.

Next is from Unwanted. It was the first time I'd really written Sixty, and I hadn't quite nailed down my characterisation of him yet, (he has a lot of traits that I now tend to give to Nines), but I still really like the way he learns to care. This confrontation with reader was very satisfying to write!

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you exclaimed.

At least the parking lot was empty. That was a small mercy.

“I’m doing my job,” he answered.

“A child is dead, you heartless prick!” you yelled, clinging onto your anger so that sorrow wouldn’t overtake you. “Do you even fucking care?”

“What good would caring do? It’s better to find the person responsible and stop them.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you breathed.

“Would you prefer me to be an emotional wreck?” he fired back, cold mask suddenly giving way to more rage than you’d ever seen from him before.

You fell silent, taken aback. There was nothing fake about it, and he wouldn’t see the point in faking it anyway. It was genuine, and you didn’t know what to say.

“Would it be helpful if I wasted energy crying about how unfair this is?” he went on, taking half a step towards you. “What good would it do if I let my feelings overtake me?”

“That’s not what I meant,” you protested weakly. “I just…would it kill you to show a little compassion?”

“Our feelings shouldn’t matter,” Sixty snarled. “We’re here to do a job. What’s the point of us being here if we can’t do that? Are we supposed to go up to that boy’s parents and say ‘Sorry, we couldn’t catch your son’s killer because we were too upset about it, but hey, I’m sure he lived a very fulfilling nine years’. Nine fucking years, Detective. That’s an unacceptably short life, and I will not waste time on self-pity and let that happen to anyone else.”

You stared at him, struck dumb by his tirade that actually made a lot of sense, grateful for the insight into how he was feeling. In one fury-driven speech he’d let you understand him better than you had in months.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” he added.

You hadn’t realised you were, and perhaps it was insensitive, but you had a good reason.

“Because you care,” you said, gentler now.

Last is from another OC fic, Are Friends Electric? It was my chance to write Connor bonding with his crush's little sister, and it was such a cute thing to explore. Big brother Connor is an underused idea, if you ask me!

A door opened down the short corridor, and he assumed it was Jane emerging from the bathroom until Molly appeared in his peripheral vision, looking bleary-eyed and sleepy. She halted when she saw him, a look of confusion passing over her young face.

“Jane’s in the bathroom,” he told her. “Are you alright?”

She deliberated for a second, then scrambled up onto the sofa, settling herself on his lap. Connor watched her, startled. He had very little experience with young children, although he’d met Chris’s a few times. He rested his hand on her back, partly to support her, partly in comfort, and she snuggled against his chest. Her body language indicated that she was cold, and he reached for the blanket that Jane used and tucked it around her.

“Had a bad dream,” she mumbled.

Connor didn’t dream, but from what he understood, they could be vivid, disturbing and feel very real, even if they seemed ridiculous in the light of day.

“What was your dream about?” he asked.

“Monsters were chasing me,” she said. “I tried to run away, but they just kept chasing me. It was really dark.”

It wasn’t hard to figure out how her brain had constructed that scenario for her. It was more difficult to eliminate her fear of a dream that had been partly based in reality, so he focused on the more fantastical part of it.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said, “I’m programmed to fight monsters.”

Molly glanced up at him. Any scepticism she might have had while fully awake didn’t break through her sleepiness, so she took his words seriously.

“You are?”

“Yep,” he confirmed with a solemn nod. “You’re safe with me, I promise.”

She considered, then put her head back on his chest. “Okay.”

Connor allowed himself an amused smile over the top of her head. Kids could be funny. He could see why some people liked having them around. He wondered, as he had before, what Hank’s son Cole had been like. Molly was the same age that Cole had been when he died. Had he ever sought Hank out after a bad dream? Probably. Connor wondered what kind of comfort Hank had given him. Maybe a story of some kind. Hank had the kind of voice that would lend itself to story-reading, if he put his mind to it.

A quiet footstep had him glancing sideways, and he saw Jane round the corner of the couch. She looked amused too, but there was something more in her expression, something warm and emotionally moved. She appreciated small kindnesses towards her sister. Appreciated them more than any kindness shown to herself, it seemed.

Thank you for asking this! I've enjoyed looking back at older fics. Sending you love!

#my fics #asks

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thebigqueer · 2 years

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"Flaming Eyes" - Valgrace - One-Shot

Summary: angsty fic because leo hates himself and he & jason meet in a dream. set on the argo ii. yeah <3

Word Count: 3841

TW: burning & fire mention. a LOT of fire actually.

Read on AO3

Jason should be used to having bad dreams at this point. And yet, as he stumbles into his dreamscape, he still finds himself riddled with anxiety of what the night will bring him.

As with any of his nightmares, he finds himself going through the same ritual. First comes the anticipation of fears as he stares into the infinite blackness of his eyelids. Next comes the unshakable anxiety that something bad is about to happen. Finally, the dreams start rolling in, blurring together in blues and greens and grays and blacks. It’s all a dizzying experience, with each color melting into the next, and his head spins in the chaos.

The colors start to solidify temporarily, turning into a terrifyingly familiar scene. Gray stones trail along the outer edges of his peripheral, and moss peeks up from various cracks in the ruins. Howls ring in the air, bouncing off the stones surrounding him, and a large gray building towers over him, making him small and inadequate in his intimidating surroundings.

Jason knows this place. The Wolf House.

Dark clouds roll overhead and his bones ring with a deep chill, but nothing makes him feel colder than the loneliness that settles over his skin. He sucks in a breath as the crushing weight of duty stings him, and he grits his teeth to bite through the discomfort. A desperate hollowness has caved into his stomach, and something in him hungers for connection, for companionship.

Loneliness. That’s all there is to the Wolf House. Being back here only reminds him that even from the beginning, he was meant to walk his destiny alone.

The dread of his isolation chews on his muscles, gnaws on his intestines, sucks on his soul. He’s losing all semblance of himself.

Just when the loneliness starts eating him from the inside out, when it starts to swallow him whole, the scene changes again. The colors of the Wolf House fade away, but the dread of isolation clings to him like an illness, sapping him of all his energy.

He squints as a new scene comes into focus. This one isn’t as cold as the Wolf House, and Jason is immediately grateful for that. The ground beneath him is a driveway of sorts, made of dry and brittle brown dirt. A large building looms behind him, with its brown garage door shut closed and tools hanging on the wall behind the windows. The scent of gasoline overwhelms his nostrils.

A mechanical shop, Jason thinks in bewilderment.

The most peculiar thing that stands out to Jason is the picnic table, which stands alone several feet to the right of the shop, its wood beckoning him. There’s nothing remarkable about the table, but something about it invokes a sense of haunting happiness in him. Grass surrounds the rest of the expanse.

Despite the obvious warmth of the area, the demigod’s skin sizzles with an air of discomfort. It’s not nearly as excruciating as the pain he felt at the Wolf House, but even here he feels an urge to turn around and hide. He looks around, hoping that maybe something can trigger his memory of this place, but he’s certain he’s never been here.

He’s squinting at the picnic table, lost in thought, when suddenly a body flickers to life in front of the table. The figure’s back faces Jason, and dark, curly hair sticks out wildly around his head like curled flames. Brown skin peeks over his neck and hands, and his arms stick out against his sides, frozen in almost claw-like positions.

Leo, Jason thinks gratefully. “Hey!” he calls, a wave of relief cooling his skin. “Oh, thank god you’re here. I thought I was alone.”

He expects Leo to turn around and grin at him, to give him some sign that he recognizes him. But instead, all Leo offers is a surprised flinch as if he’s been interrupted.

Jason’s eyebrows knit together nervously. He takes a step forward - just a step - and places an apprehensive hand out. “Leo?” he asks, this time a little quieter, almost a whisper.

Leo straightens. His fists clench. The patches of bare skin visible on his body glow a dangerous bronze color.

“It’s me,” calls Jason, though he gets the feeling that announcing himself is a mistake. If Leo’s silence says anything, he doesn’t seem excited. “Hey, are you alright? Where are we?”

Leo’s back expands as he takes a deep breath. Then, in silence, he unclenches his fists. The tips of his fingers glow bright orange as he calls on his power, and an instant later, flames burst at the feet of the picnic table. The low crackling of fire crumples in Jason’s ears and the heavy scent of smoke infiltrates the air.

“You shouldn’t be here” is all Leo says. His voice croaks in the air, hissing like fire and scratching Jason’s ears.

An aghast expression pulls on Jason’s features. “What are you talking about?” he asks. “Where are we? What is this place?”

Instead of answering, Leo falls silent again. Only the crackling of the small flames interrupt the burning silence. Jason stares at the back of Leo’s neck, willing him to turn his face and speak to him, to tell him the truth, but it’s clear that he has no intention of doing so. He’s too focused on the destruction before him.

Leo raises his hands, and the flames respond in kind, growing higher, running just a few inches up the legs of the picnic table. The grass around the legs have charred, turning black and cruel against the beauty.

Jason swallows nervously. He doesn’t like the way Leo’s ignoring him, the way the flames are rising, the way that the smoke is choking him. Every cell in his body screams for him to get out, but he seems to be stuck; he can’t wake himself up, can’t switch the scene, can’t do anything except delve further into this dream.

He’s never felt so trapped.

The flames move as Leo orchestrates, bowing to his command. He is the ruler of the flames, and they will do as he says. Watching him, Jason realizes it’s almost a kind of recital, as if Leo’s putting on a show for him. A dangerous show.

The flames grow higher, now licking at the seats. For several moments, the only sound is of the flames popping in the air.

Then the screaming starts.

Jason’s heart stops for a full minute. His stomach twists and his chest aches and his eyes burn, and he wants to fall to his knees and sob as the agonized shrieking pierces the air.

It’s the sound of a woman pleading for her life. It’s the sound of a woman cursing fate for what has come of her. It’s the sound of a woman losing any hope for herself.

He has never heard something so helpless.

It’s only when the screaming starts that Leo decides to face Jason. And when his head clicks in place, when his eyes connect with Jason’s, the flames burst behind him; they swallow the picnic table whole in an instant, and the glow of the flames throws shadows against the sides of Leo’s face, making him look more haunting than anything Jason has ever seen.

Instead of the familiar mischievous grin that Jason’s so used to seeing, a scowl strikes Leo’s features, contorting his face into something unrecognizable. His hands are wide open now, glowing an unnatural bronze shade, and his entire body quivers with a terrifying energy.

And that’s when Jason notices Leo’s eyes. In place of their usual crazed brown hue, Jason’s heartbeat staggers in fear as he realizes there are literal flames in his eyes, the same bright red as the fire burning behind him. The flames consume him from the inside out, burning and destroying him from its very depths, until his soul turns to ash and there’s nothing left of him except for a hollow body.

“Leo…,” Jason whispers, fear ringing around his voice.

Another scream shatters the air, stinging his ears. He winces in sympathy and points up, gesturing to the echoes in the air. “Wh- What’s that?” Jason asks. “Who’s screaming? Should we help her?”

Leo tilts his head to the side and his eyebrows knit together over his forehead. Under his gaze, the blood in Jason’s veins sears his skin, boiling and hissing against him.

Then Leo starts laughing. His mouth quirks up as amusement falls from his lips, but his eyes carry a mad gleam in them, an unnerving look of excitement that makes Jason’s heart thrum with terror. His laughs seep into Jason’s skin and ring repeatedly in his head, rattling around the walls of his skull.

Finally, Leo responds, “Do you really want to know?”

Jason doesn’t answer. That’s a good question, and the answer is that he doesn't. But something tells him he has to find out. Something tells him it's the reason he’s here at all.

Leo’s laughter pricks Jason’s head painfully. His grin turns wider, but the sadness in his eyes begs Jason to set him free from himself. He's a prisoner to his own mind.

“It’s the screams of my mother,” Leo explains, “as she burned in the flames that I created.”

The fire in his eyes bursts furiously as he speaks, and Jason can’t help it; he stumbles back in fear. When he sees Jason tripping backwards, Leo’s laughter returns, turning the air as hot and uncomfortable as the woman’s shrieks in the background.

“That’s right, Jason,” he says. “I killed my mother. If it weren’t for me, she’d be here today.” Leo shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But she’s not! Because I killed her.” He turns his gaze to the machine shop, watching it with his blazing eyes, and tilts his head. His fingers flinch, and then the machine shop bursts into flames, too, just as quickly as the picnic table mere moments ago. “Yup, just like that. Set the machine shop to flames when she was inside. Isn’t that horrific? Isn’t that disturbing?” He turns back to Jason, striking him in the eyes with his knife-like grin. “Aren’t I disturbing, Jason?”

Leo doesn’t wait for Jason to answer, though. He takes a step closer, and the flames behind him rise higher. Jason’s throat burns forcefully and he doubles over into a fit of coughs, which makes Leo even more amused. “Look at you, struggling to breathe. I’m suffocating you, aren't I?”

Leo laughs and laughs and laughs, until his laughs aren’t laughs anymore but sobs, until his sobs aren’t sobs anymore but choking, until his choking isn’t choking anymore but just pure misery. Jason tries to lift his head to get a look at him, to try to tell him something comforting, but his eyes are so teary that he can only barely make out the glow of Leo’s eyes.

“Tell me, Jason,” Leo hisses, glaring, “do you have any idea what it’s like to utterly hate yourself? To despise yourself from the inside out?”

He seems to be genuinely asking. When Jason opens his mouth to speak, all that comes out is a stream of coughs, so he opts to shake his head instead.

Really, he wants to say that he understands. There have been times when Jason’s stared at the lines of his palms and doubted every single mistake he’d ever made, every single time he’d failed his job as a leader.

But that was just shame and disappointment, not outright hate. He knew he could come back from the mistakes he made.

Leo can’t come back from killing his mother.

Jason wants to tell Leo that it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have done anything to stop it, but he has a feeling none of that will reach through to him. If he still feels so much regret after so many years, Jason won’t be much help.

“I’ll tell you what it feels like to hate yourself,” Leo whispers, his footsteps thudding closer. The ground underneath his feet crunch, turning charred and black from his destructive heat. He stops in front of Jason, giving him a clear view of his shoes as Jason takes cover under another ambush of coughs.

The flames are as suffocating as ever, hissing against Jason’s eyes and charring his throat, but he risks a look at Leo anyway. Flames burn furiously where his eyes should be.

The boys stare at each other for a moment, frozen in each other’s hold. The flames creep closer and closer, surrounding them, leaving no escape. Jason’s lungs scream in agony as smoke contaminates the air. He’s not sure how much longer his lungs can last with this lack of oxygen. He knows this is just a dream, but he’s getting more and more convinced that he’s going to die.

Then Leo grabs Jason’s chin and tilts it up, glaring at him scathingly. It doesn’t hurt Jason, but nevertheless a surprised cry claws out of his throat at the force.

Leo’s teeth flicker in the raging fire as he speaks. “Every day,” he mutters, “I look at myself in the mirror, and I try - I really try - to see a boy in the mirror. I try to see someone worth looking at. But every time I look at myself, it’s never a human.”

Leo tugs on Jason’s jaw a little, not painfully but rather urgingly, and Jason rises, despite the shivering of his knees and the shallowness in his breathing. His head peaks several inches above Leo, but he feels small and weak in comparison, as if Leo’s devastation is sapping him of his own energy.

Leo’s eyes pierce Jason’s as he looks up at him. “I look at myself,” he says, “and for a second I just see a boy. But then I look at these messy curls and these dim eyes and this sallow face, and suddenly I barely see myself. My eyes disappear, along with my mouth and ears and face, until the mirror shows transparent skin, and instead of a human boy, I just see a vile creature staring back at me in the mirror. Disgust oozes in every corner of my body. It’s all over my bones, dragging around like it's alive, leaving remnants of itself in every corner and crevice of my existence, and I look horrific, Jason. I look like a monster. All I can ask myself is who could possibly look at this… at me… and think they could love me? I’m disgusting. I’m revolting.” Leo shakes his head in bewilderment, as if he’s come to some surprising conclusion. “The hate is such a poison, Jason. It is a parasite in my body. It’s feeding on every bit of my existence, consuming my essence, and I’m just letting it grow.”

Jason stares at Leo for a long time, despite the pain in his chest and the increasing intensity of Leo’s eyes. Jason’s not sure he’s ever seen Leo so beaten down. No matter the amount of fights he’s been in, the amount of times he’s been thrown around, the amount of times something has exploded in his face, Leo has never looked as destroyed as this moment.

“Leo,” Jason wheezes, but what is there to really say? I’m sorry? What good would that do to someone who already feels sorry enough for himself?

The flames rise even higher, enough to tower several feet above the machine shop. The air is too thick and suffocating, and Jason’s not sure how much longer he can last.

Then Leo’s grip on Jason’s jaw loosens, and the flames in his eyes dim a little, turning small and blue over his irises. His eyebrows lean away in regret. Leo peers at Jason with less heat, his expression betraying an unnerving sadness instead, and as he watches him, each heartbeat in Jason’s chest pumps heavy dread into his bloodstream.

The fingers that were just gripping Jason’s jaw now trail gently across his jawline, like his face is a priceless, ancient artifact that could crumble with even the slightest amount of force. Leo’s thumb brushes against the area where his jaw meets his ear, and everywhere that Leo’s fingers touch his face, the inside of Jason’s skin ignites to flames. His touch shocks him, sends his skin humming with an alarming buzz.

Jason’s not sure how to feel about this strange new intimacy. Despite the ache in his chest and the rawness of his throat, though, he finds that he doesn’t mind it. There’s something comforting in his warm touch, something that makes Jason’s stomach feel light and airy.

But that comfort lasts barely a second before Leo speaks again.

“Jason…,” he whispers, his voice drifting to some place beyond the both of them. “Don’t you see? I ruin everything I touch. My flames were meant to destroy.”

The fire around them edges closer. The suffocating scent of smoke infiltrates Jason’s nose, and he realizes with a start that the flames are reaching out towards them. It touches Jason’s shoes.

“I was meant to destroy,” insists Leo.

The fire wraps around Jason’s ankle. Pain rings all the way to Jason’s throat, and a scream lurches out of him, but no one except Leo is around to hear him. He falls to his knees.

“But I don’t want to destroy you, Jason,” Leo promises, and his face crumples as despair washes over him. He barely seems to notice Jason writhing on the ground, being consumed by the flames. “I don’t want to lose you.”

The flames travel up Jason’s knees, crawl up his waist. All he sees is Leo’s flaming eyes through the burning tears in his own.

“You should leave me,” urges Leo. “Before I destroy you like everyone else I’ve loved.”

Jason shakes his head and, in a moment of despair, latches onto Leo’s waist. His eyes beg to be freed from the flames, from the pain, but Leo doesn’t seem to register it.

And then, suddenly, all the despair in Leo’s eyes evaporates. Anger resurges in its place, the flames rise, and Leo’s features turn sharp and rageful. He grips Jason’s shoulders and screams, “YOU NEED TO LEAVE ME.”

The heat of Leo’s body becomes too overwhelming under Jasons’ fingertips. In a mere second, he completely destroys Jason. One second he’s solid, and the next he combusts with the flames around him. And suddenly Jason is engulfed in the heat, burning from his fingertips and dying inch by inch with each second that passes.

The last thing he sees are orange flames, screaming at him to leave. His own cries are the only pieces of him still alive as he fades away to ashes.

~~~

It isn’t until the evening that Jason can finally talk to Leo.

He finds him at the head of the ship, talking to Festus and smiling. His hand strokes the dragon’s nose gently, speaking in soft whispers, and a fluttering sensation overwhelms Jason’s own heart at the sight; he remembers the way Leo had touched his own face in the dream last night, almost as comforting as he is right now.

He’s been thinking about it all day. He’s not sure why.

But that’s not why he’s here to see Leo.

His heartbeat speeds as he tiptoes forward slowly. Clouds are rolling in the evening sky, thick and dark, and the scent of ozone hums in the air. Thunderstorm, Jason thinks nervously. He has no idea how the ship’s going to deal with that, but they’ll figure it out later.

Leo laughs as he talks to Festus, but when his eyes meet Jason’s, the amusement melts away in mere seconds, replaced by an expression as stormy as the incoming weather. His chest expands as he takes a deep breath.

Jason tries for a comforting smile, but he doubts it works. “Hey,” he greets. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Leo doesn’t say anything. He leans his head against Festus and shrugs.

“So, uh… About that dream last night…”

Thunder rolls across the sky. Leo looks up, squinting nervously, then turns back to Jason. He shakes his head. “Hey, man,” he says, waving his fingers in what Jason assumes is his attempt to look nonchalant, “it was just a dream. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Are you sure?” Jason asks, crossing his arms. His eyebrows furrow in the middle. “Because if it was just a dream, then how come I was brought into it?”

Leo shrugs. “Look, I don’t know. Maybe some weird magic shit. You know how it is in our world. Nothing’s normal for us.” He offers a grin as empty as his eyes, and he punches Jason’s arm playfully. “No biggie.”

Jason watches Leo’s eyes. His stomach flips at the memory of the dream, where he watched those very same eyes turn to lethal flames. Just looking at Leo makes Jason nervous; who knows what could happen if he crosses the line in real time?

But Jason’s crossed too many lines just being in that dream. What’s the harm in crossing another one?

Jason tilts his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t believe me,” Leo replies coolly, and his entire friendly facade melts away, replaced by a chilling expression. “But it’s true.”

Jason’s skin burns nervously. Something dangerous flickers between the boys, and Jason knows that if he doesn’t stop now he’s going to detonate too many bombs.

But bombs were created to be detonated. If he keeps pushing Leo, he’ll be doing exactly what needs to be done.

Thunder shakes the world around them again, and Leo tilts his head back at Jason. “We should get inside. Before it starts raining.”

Jason nods, but neither of them move. Lightning cracks the air.

“You’re not a good liar,” Jason murmurs. Then his expression softens and he lays a gentle hand across Leo’s bicep. His fingers tingle at the contact, but he ignores the sensation and brushes his thumb against Leo’s arm. “You can always talk to me, Leo. You know I’m here for you, right?”

Leo stares at him. Then he gently pries Jason’s grip away from him. “Are you, though?” he hisses, keeping a hold on his hand to keep him from touching Leo again.

Jason frowns. “What do you mean?”

Leo narrows his eyes, then turns to look at something over the right of his shoulder. Jason follows his line of sight and sees Piper beckoning the boys in, probably warning against the rain. Jason nods to let her know they see her, but then he turns back to Leo, who watches him carefully.

He shakes his head. “Forget it, Jason. Let’s just pretend the dream never happened, okay?”

Leo turns to rush to the cabins, an anxiousness clinging to his skin as he breaks contact with Jason. Another bout of thunder rolls overhead, and Leo frowns. His feet pound against the floorboards as he tries to look for refuge - or rather, an escape from Jason - but he’s too late.

The rain crashes down before either of them can make it inside.

#my writing #valgrace #jason grace #leo valdez #valgrace fanfic #jason grace fanfic #leo valdez fanfic #riordanverse

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seeingteacupsindragons · 2 years

Note

Do you by any chance have any mental health writing tips? I find that when I'm writing about mental health issues, which often come from personal experience (but not always), I find it difficult to translate these experiences into words in a way that genuinely conveys them to the reader, even if it's something I've felt myself.

The original showed up when you sent the new one, Nonnie, wtf.

This depends on a lot of factors, some of which you've addressed in your ask, but which I want to lay out anyway for others.

First, what kind of mental health issue it is? Personality disorders vs psychosis vs mood disorders, etc, are all wildly different not only in symptoms and presentation but also often in a person, character, or narrator's perception of themselves, their symptoms, and reality. And they all change the way a person thinks differently, which needs to be reflected in, well, their behavior, their voice, and their narration.

Second, what perspective and POV is the mental health issue being written from? Depression looks very different observed by an outsider than it feels. If someone is frustrated with symptoms of someone else's bipolar disorder, that's going to influence the way it gets written and discussed as opposed to someone being frustrated with their own. Or if someone is much more forgiving than the mentally ill person, or it's a psychiatrist, etc.

Third, what knowledge of the symptoms does the person have? If someone has been clinically depressed for twenty years, they’ve probably developed coping techniques and can recognize coming spells. If someone is having their first psychotic hallucinations but schizophrenia runs in the family, they're probably terrified, but they have some idea of what's happening and they've seen it from another angle before. If someone is just having a complete mental break from trauma, they have no idea what to do next. And if someone has a lifelong personality disorder, they might not even recognize their symptoms for what they are, because they have always experienced the world that way.

I tend to write very close third person POV, so I write what the character is experiencing how they're experiencing it (and first person, the effect is very similar). I pulled up the last time I wrote a PTSD event, because I remembered really liking it. It's too long to really shove in the post, but here are some techniques I used on reviewing it:

Started with thoughts that triggered the attack tumbling over and over in the narration without any filters or acknowledgment that they were slightly twisted from reality--but the pain came from an event the reader saw in a previous scene, so they would be somewhat aware that his mind is not a Good Place. The longer you can keep a character going like that, talking over and over and over themselves, can really give the impression of racing thoughts. Normally it's not great to have several paragraphs of internal monologue with no action, but in limited use and as a break from the rest of the narration, it really does emphasize that the character's mental state has completely removed itself from reality.

Followed with concrete physical symptoms of the attack: choking on air. Feeling like they were suffocating. Didn't say where or why they came, just that this is happening now.

Action--what's happening around him while he's freaking out, what triggered it and how it's interacting with his symptoms (making it worse; of course it's making it worse).

There's a plaintiveness to the narration at this point to show how much he's suffering and wants it all to stop. His thoughts have shifted now from the racing thoughts that spiraled him into the attack to desperation for escape and hopelessness because he doesn't think he can, but the narration is entirely focused on the trapped-ness of the situation.

Other things I've also done in similar situations is changing up the narrative style completely: switching perspective from third to first or using another kind of narrative voice that isn't present in other scenes.

Typically, when writing a character who is having a mental health break, what you want to do is write as if what they're experiencing is the only possible reality. Because that immerses the reader in what's happening to them. If you need to make it clear it's not, then you can have other characters in the scene react in ways that are diametrically opposed. If the character is hallucinating, everyone else is confused and not seeing it, or the reader can easily tell they're just being placating. If the character is having an anxiety attack for some reason, no one else is bothered. If someone is absorbed in their own narcissism, say, have them be violently confronted with the fact that other people simply are not viewing the world the same way.

I find that personal experiences can be very difficult to write about. I have a number of journals from my teenage years about my mental health and how I felt at the time and hoo boy, I was Going Through Some Shit, and it's very jarring to read now and know I genuinely felt every shred of that. And that's cathartic.

But writing something when you're feeling badly about it can also really immerse you in that pain, and it's not always a productive place to write fiction from. You may very well have to edit it when you're in a better space, knowing it's going to be confusing and not very effective writing. You may have to write it very slowly because trying to manage your own mental health and the clarity you need to write effectively is troublesome.

So there's also just the fact that writing mental health stuff is hard because it hurts, and pain hurts to get really close to, even in fiction.

And that I think ends this brief thesis on this topic. I hope you found it helpful. If not, yell for more.

#writing #mental health

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whatissleepeven · 3 years

Note

Okay so imagine the brothers are offered back their divinity if they kill the MC. How would they react? (Oh or for more angst- get back Lilith in exchange for MC’s life?)

Ohohoho, is this angst hour I sense? Thank you for this ask, and I’m...sorry in advance for the heavy feelings-

(Me: Okay angst time, time to play the appropriate song

*begins playing Spiderman Pizza Delivery Theme*

Me: let’s begin)

Trigger Warnings: Panic Attack (Beel’s Prompt), PTSD Symptoms (Also Beel’s Prompt), Talk of Loss

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

Obey Me! Brothers’ Reactions To An Ultimatum

Lucifer

Well, he certainly does think about it.

No, not about the divinity...but about Lilith.

They could have her back in their lives? All for the price of one human?

This human, who has caused him nothing but grief and throws themselves head-first into danger.

If this was towards the beginning of the program, he’d be more inclined to take it-

But he doesn’t.

He can’t do that to you. Not you. You, who had repaired their broken family. You, who had seen all of their flaws and strengths and passions and fears and embraced them.

You, who continues to smile so brightly and say his name with utmost faith in him.

He lowers his arm. You look fearful, but...resigned. Like it will be fine, like it was okay if he killed you.

He hates it.

“Does your life matter to you that little?”

You smile sadly, and a small portion of him wants to scream. No no no, it cries out, this isn’t how you’re supposed to be! Your smiles aren’t supposed to be full of sorrow!

“Your sister meant-...means a lot to you. To all of you. Who am I to take that away, huh?”

He walks over to you, his steps measured. You close your eyes, waiting for the killing blow-

A weight settles on your head, giving it a few rubs. “You are worth more than you could ever know. Remember that.”

He continues to walk, heading out the door. A few tears drip from your face onto the floor.

He could care less about his divinity. If he had to choose here or the Celestial Realm, he’d much rather stay here. He knows, deep in his heart, that Lilith lived a long and successful life.

You, however, are irreplaceable.

Mammon

“H-Hey...ya gotta be kidding me.”

“Well?” You grin, holding your arms out. Your stance is peaceful, like all you’re asking for is a hug. But he knows better.

Divinity and Lilith? All for killing-...

For killing you?

He hates this. He hates the look in your eyes, hates the trust you’re showing him, and hates your bleeding heart that’s just waiting to be taken for granted. Hell, it already has been taken for granted.

“What do you think you’re doin’, playin’ the hero? Wanting to sacrifice yourself? You think that’ll make us happy?!” Tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

You lower your arms, shocked. “Wha-”

You let out a small oomph as he tackles you into a hug, pulling you close.

“You’re trembling, ya idiot.” He mumbles, and you feel something wet drip onto your shirt. He’s crying, you realize. He’s crying because this hurts him.

“Mammon...I-”

He pulls back to clamp his hands down onto your shoulders. “Save it!” He barks forcefully, making you blink. “Ya really thought I’d give all this up? For something that’s already happened? I like what we got goin’ here. My brothers like this life way better than the ones we had in the Celestial Realm. Everyone’s happier lately, and it’s ‘cause of you.”

The minute trembling that ran through your body before returns in full force, tears pooling forth as you grip his shirt. He pulls you back into the hug, and you feel safe. That’s right; he’s your number one protector, the Avatar of Greed.

How could you forget that?

He grins, reaching a hand up to ruffle your hair in a playful manner. You laugh thickly, your tears still falling. “You’re stuck with the Great Mammon, and don’tcha forget it!”

Because you are his priceless treasure. Not Lilith, not some stupid divinity...

You.

Leviathan

Leviathan has always been the outcast.

His passions, his fears, his confidence...All of those are wildly different from his brothers’. He’s not as close as Beel and Belphie are, or as Lucifer and Mammon are, or as Asmo and Satan are.

He’s the black sheep of the family.

“Y-You’re leaving it up to me...?”

You nod. Oh, how he wishes this was just a run-through of an anime script. You two would spend long hours into the night reading the lines and acting them out, repeating each scene until it was done flawlessly.

But reality is far too cruel.

“It’s your family. Your story. I’m just a side character, if you will.”

Your smile is cynical. He wants nothing more than to throw his spare Ruri-chan blanket around your shoulders and force you to marathon the entire series of “I Love My Best Friend But I Get Everything Back If I Kill Them...I Have A Choice To Make!”.

He takes a step forward. Then another. “You...Why would you do that?”

You laugh, a warm sound that serves to make his stomach knot with dread.

“Because I love you guys, why else?”

Silence. He doesn’t know what to say. What’s the right thing to do? What can he do, with his small confidence?

He’s struck with a memory, of the two of you gaming in his room. He had felt terrible due to his brothers critiquing his love for anime to the point he started to berate himself for it, and you merely patted his shoulder while telling him words he’d never forget.

“There’s things only you can do, Levi. So when you start to overthink...just feel, and let your body handle the rest.”

It’s time to take you up on your advice.

“Ghk-!” You stumble as he lunges at you, the both of you toppling to the floor. He’s crying, clinging to you like a lifeline.

“I-I could never kill the Henry to my Lord of Shadows...Every Lord of Shadows only has one Henry...!!”

Leviathan has always been the outcast. He still is, but when he’s with you he feels like he belongs.

Satan

“No.”

“...Huh.” You blink at him. You’re not sure if you heard him right. Did he just-...say “no”?

“No.” He says again, his eyes narrowing. “Please tell me you’re joking about this.”

Why? Why would you throw away your life like that? For their “happiness”? Give him a break.

“What do you think you’re accomplishing by doing this?” His voice starts quiet, growing in volume as he steps towards you. You backpedal, not expecting the angered response, which only serves to fuel his fury.

“Do you think it’d make us happy? Do you think we’d jump at the chance to sacrifice you for something that’s better long forgotten? Do you really think so little of us? Well? ANSWER ME!!”

You flinch as he gets in your personal space, only to freeze when arms wrap around you and squeeze you tight.

“I was born from Lucifer’s wrath, the only bona-fide demon among my other brothers. For a long time, all I knew was anger and hate,” he whispers, stubbornly refusing to look at your shocked gaze. “I began to read to learn more, to be able to feel other emotions. But the anger and hate stayed, concealed by the thin veil I constructed to make myself more likeable. More polite. More charming.”

He wanted nothing to do with Lucifer. He wanted it so bad it hurt. So he built himself a brand-new personality, becoming someone others could rely on, all so he could spite him.

And then you came along.

Your eyes water as you realize that you feel him shaking. “I never met her, you know, but I’ve seen her through his eyes. I feel his lingering pain, and sometimes it makes me want to tear my own chest out,” he says, voice wobbling. “But to ask you to do that...to give you up for something I have no right to feel upset about...it’s something I won’t do. Ever. Not when you saved me.”

You rest your hand on his back as you return the hug, a choked sob escaping you. “Satan, I-”

“You saved me.” He whispers fervently. “Do you understand? That means everything.”

You claw the back of his shirt, your breath hitching as you succumb to your tears. You both end up falling to the floor, hugging each other like your lives depend on it.

He doesn’t need divinity he’s never had. No, not when he has you.

Asmodeus

“Oh, love...you...”

He could go back? He could go back and get his little sister back?

But if he did, then you’d-...you’d...

“I know how much you miss being the Jewel of the Heavens.” You say, sitting next to him. It’s supposed to be a quiet night, one where you both relax and take care of each other, but then this opportunity appeared and-

He...didn’t know what to do.

- No, that was a lie. He knew exactly what to do. There was only ever one option for him.

“I’m hurt.”

You look over at him, surprised. His voice is small and he’s pouting, but there’s a tremble in his bottom lip as his eyes shine with unshed tears.

“I’m hurt, you know!” He repeats, and by now you’re pretty sure your mouth hangs open. “I’m hurt that you’d think so low of me!”

You scramble to explain. “Asmo, that’s not-”

“But it is!” He cries, interrupting you. “It’s exactly that! Did you think I would actually take that chance?!”

Your eyes soften. You go to place a hand on his shoulder, only to still when he slaps it away. “...Asmo.”

He throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck as he clings to you. You don’t have the heart to throw him off, wrapping your own arms around him.

“We’ve come all this way because of you.” He murmurs against you. “And you’re the only one who loves me for me. Although, my looks are definitely a strong point-”

You chuckle weakly, feeling your own tears start to fall. He smiles once he hears you, happy to know that he lifted your mood even if it was just by a little.

“-if I gave you up, these past years would have been for nothing. So, no; I won’t do it. Besides, have you seen the following I have down here? I’m on my way to becoming the Jewel of Devildom!”

You move one hand to rest on his head, a warm smile spreading across your face. You don’t notice how he looks at your expression with awe and adoration, giving his head a few pats.

“I know you can do it.”

Well. With you by his side, he can do anything.

Beelzebub

This isn’t happening. This- This can’t be happening.

Not again...not again...!

He grasps his chest and stumbles back from you, and he hears the way you call his name with worry in your voice. You sound far away, he thinks to himself. Are you already dead? Where is he? Did he fail again? Is this the Celestial War? Maybe that’s why he smells iron, hears screaming, hears himself screaming. It’ll explain the pain at least, and he would chuckle if he wasn’t too busy gasping for air.

Ah, his heart feels like it’s on fire it hurts so bad. Is it tearing itself in two? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do...he doesn’t know who to choose-

It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It hurts...!

“Beel, can you hear me? Take deep breaths. Okay? Please, breathe!”

- Huh?

He feels something on his face. What is that?

Oh, this warmth...It’s almost like-

Your name falls from his lips. You sigh in relief, sitting back.

“I’m glad you’re okay. How do you feel?”

How do you feel? You just said it was okay if he chose his angel status and Lilith over you, and you’re asking him how do you feel?

He lowers his hands, frowning at you. “...Why did you ask me?”

His voice is small. Fragile. Your heart breaks at the sound of it, tears building as you see his form shake.

“Why did you ask me, when the last time I did something I murdered my sister?”

You pat his arm, reaching a hand over to give him a side hug. “Remember what Lucifer said. She wasn’t murdered; she lived happily as a human, right up until she died of old age.”

All the more reason not to do it.

He sinks into your hold. You shoulder his weight with no complaints. “I can’t do it. You’re family; I-” he swallows past the lump in his throat, tears streaming down his face. “...I love you too much.”

Because he could care less about his angel status. Because Lilith already lived her life of peace. It still hurts, but you were the one to hold his hand when he had nightmares. You were the one who saw past his intimidating form and hung out with him.

You are important, and Beelzebub will take on the Celestial Realm himself if anything happened to you.

Belphegor

...He’s quiet.

Well, it’s to be expected. He hates humanity, and it’s his younger sister we’re talking about here, not to mention how close they were.

“So?” You ask as you lean back, the wall of the planetarium supporting your weight. “I don’t mind if you choose her and your status. It’s-”

“I could give a rat’s ass about my status as an angel.” He snaps. “Just shut up for a second and listen.”

You shut your mouth. What were you gonna say to that? An angry Belphie is not a Belphie to speak lightly with.

You jolt a bit as you feel hands lightly smack against your cheeks, smooshing your face. He tugs your head so that you’re staring at him, and it’s then that you notice how his eyes waver.

“I killed you,” he says, his brows furrowing, “I killed you. And yet you’d let me choose?”

You snort, raising a hand to cover his own. “Yep. Your move, Sleeping Beauty.”

He doesn’t understand. Why would you give him that power? He had robbed you from your family when he took your life. He temporarily washed out your future.

Did you really trust him that much...?

“It tore Beel and I apart when we learned she was dead. I-...I blamed myself.” He starts, and you don’t have the heart to stop him. Not when you already made peace with your end. “I started eating less, sleeping more. I despised Lucifer, and I despised all of humanity for taking my little sister away from me.”

You remained quiet. He lets out a frustrated huff, shaking you a bit.

“And then you came. You freed me from that place, you mended what was broken, and you-...you forgave me. And I will never betray that trust; not now, and not in the future.”

He bumps his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. You close yours as well, feeling the tears drip from your face and onto the floor. He’s...choosing you? Over everything he’s ever wanted?

What did you do to deserve someone like him in your life?

“So don’t you forget it, you idiot.”

#obey me shall we date #my heart tore to pieces writing this #this was wonderful to write for though thank you anon #om swd #swd om #shall we date obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons

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greensaplinggrace · 3 years

Note

do you have any darklina fic recs?

I certainly have a few! But first I want to clarify that I don’t really read fic when I’m writing it, and since I have so many fics in the works right now, I haven’t really been reading a lot of fanfiction. So this list probably won’t be as extensive as it could be.

Here are some other great fic recommendation posts, however:

DARKLINA FIC RECS by @vicioux

DARKLINA FIC RECS // part ii by @vicioux

Darklina Ruling the World Together Fic Recs by @clubofthestarlesssaint

Tumblr Ficlets

Aleksander’s First Memory by @kestrafagnor

Fivan Talk About Darklina by @jomiddlemarch

a little light in the great, big dark by @valkyrhys

Alina tells Mal she’s with Aleksander by @lorsanbitch

Darklina week day 5: intimacy & touch by @starlesscne

AO3 Fanfiction

if it ain’t me by larry_hystereks (Incomplete - 10/13 Chapters)

alina’s in her second year at Yale when she meets aleksander at one of his frat parties.

a hookup with the potential for more, only if alina wasn’t still struggling to piece herself together from last year’s breakup.

or: alina, zoya, their trust issues, and the men that fall for them

---

I’m only at about chapter 6 of this fic currently, but so far it’s one of my all time favorite Modern AUs. The characterization for Alina and Aleksander is incredibly well done, and the entire fic itself is so feminist and queer in such a refreshing way. Aleksander and Alina are bisexual as fuck, both with their own separate complex lives, and much of Alina’s own traumas and relationships are explored outside of Aleksander.

There’s some Zoyalina, with Nikolina friendship and endgame Zoyalai. There’s some mystery and some tension, but nothing too extreme, and a lot of the fic is merely an exploration in growth and overcoming one’s history and learning how to move on in healthy ways. I love it.

She Wears a Collar (With My Name) by Ceris_Malfoy (Complete)

She is immortal, and whatever lingering hints of humanity she may have once had have long been bleached from her heart.

I will grant you one wish, boy, if it is in my power to do so. What does a Shadow Smith most want?

"You," he answers.

Written for Darklina Week 2021 - Day 2: Role Reversal

---

This piece is just exquisite. This author’s writing style is one that I particularly enjoy. Their stuff is always so uniquely composed and crafted, and this one especially is a work of art. The way Darklina as a relationship is portrayed in particular is fascinating to me because it’s a role reversal but it’s still so complex. Aleksander’s character is nailed.

the bright sun was extinguish’d by athousandwinds (Complete)

Somewhere, deep in the dark forests of Ravka, a boy grows up on stories of Sankta Alina of the Wastes, the Sun-Scorched Saint.

---

This fic is just straight up magnificent. It’s so engaging and I love love love the way a role reversed Aleksander who joins the army is portrayed. He reminds me so much of Demon in the Woods Aleksander, as if he’s exactly what a grown version of that young boy would be. When I say I adore his characterization in this I’m not lying.

If I wanted any completed fic I’ve read to have a second chapter, it would be this one.

Winter in the Little Palace by redisxwing (Complete)

Written for Yuletide 2020.

Baghra and Alina's wildly different perspectives on the Darkling, and how things could have gone if nobody listened to Baghra.

Warning: Baghra is written as a harsh and arguably abusive parent, and this is darkfic about that relationship, with a side of shipping. Everything is terrible (except the parts that are pretty much okay).

Canon divergence pretty much as soon as Alina gets lessons in summoning.

This fic is likely not compatible with King of Scars (or any subsequent work).

---

As is said in the summary, this one makes Baghra a bit more extreme. If you’re a fan of Baghra, this fic probably isn’t for you. But since I’m not a fan of Baghra, I had no problems with it.

My biggest praise for this fic is in regards to the character interactions and the POVs. There’s a brilliant grasp of unique perspective and how to convey it, and that talent is carried over into the way character interactions are brought to life in the text. Also, there’s a scene where Alina gets kind of protective of the Darkling, which is one of my biggest weaknesses when it comes to Darklina.

Good Ideas by FelixRivers (Complete)

Alina Starkov had a very good idea. Aleksander Morozova would definitely agree. (or: Alina wants to go camping and Aleksander won't complain)

---

This fic is just straight up adorable and hilarious. They’re such a cute couple and Alina’s POV is great. It’s just pure fluff and humor 💕

I’m not a bad girl, but I do bad things with you by SanktaJenya - @sankta-arya (Complete)

Winter had been hard on Old Baghra and Ana Kuya was worried about her, so she decided that Alina should make the trip to her cottage on the other side of the woods to bring her some food and kvas. On her way there, Alina meets a stranger...

Darklina Red Riding Hood/Company of Wolves AU

Darklina Week, Day 4, Fairytales

---

This fic has a splendid grasp of tension and atmosphere. It’s very enchanting and dark and intriguing, and it nails those aspects with absolute precision. I love the style and the way the fairytale is incorporated into the narrative. It’s truly a masterpiece.

The Wretched by @aceofnowhere (Complete)

“We are strangers, but I want to help.” He growls at her, mocking and mistrustful. “I understand,” she said. “You think I am one of them. I certainly look like one of them. But I want to help you. Will you let me?” Prompt: fairytale. Alina saves a dragon.

---

Okay so I’ve mentioned this one before as one of my Top 5 fics of all time and I still stand by that. I can’t even describe why I love this fic so much except that the pacing is amazing and the prose is stunning and the story is beautiful. Aleksander is a dragon and Alina is a witch, and their relationship is just so...interesting and fascinating and lovely. I would literally kill for this fic. There’s such a softness to it as well. Such a tenderness. Idk, I just really love it.

Show Me Who You Are (I Want To Know) by Ceris_Malfoy (Incomplete - 12/?)

Alina takes her future in her own hands and makes her own decisions.

---

This is a great “what if Alina had stuck around after the reveal” rewrite. It doesn’t have Mal bashing and in fact still writes them as close friends, which is something I’m fond of in Darklina fics. Aleksander is allowed to be soft and Alina is allowed to be powerful, and I really enjoyed the take on their dynamics as a power couple wherein Alina is given a lot of control.

There’s something to be said for the way Aleksander is written in the scenes where he must be honest and earnest with Alina. I really enjoy the way they both come to equal ground, and I’m even more fond of the way Alina is allowed to grow darker without losing her light. She also engages a lot with quite a few other characters, developing tons of friendships and alliances on her own that help strengthen her as an individual character.

on this bridge between starshine and clay by @rhea-imagined (Complete)

"His breath narrows for a moment, his fist clenched tight before he forces himself to loosen it. She is his only opportunity for salvation, but vulnerability is not a cape he wears easily. “In those days, there was less prejudice against Shadow Summoners. But everyone fears the dark, in one way or another.” He does not look at her as he waits for the penny to drop, half-hoping it stays suspended in the air."

In which Alexander comes clean to Alina and tells her about his true identity in hopes that this will help convince her to take down the Fold.

A rewrite of the fountain scene in episode four, with a good!Darkling that is trying to make amends.

---

This is my all-time favorite good!Aleksander AU. He’s kept in character despite the major changes made to his motivations, and Alina is given a lot more agency in her own story. It’s the first fic in what might become a series, but it can stand alone beautifully.

I love how Aleksander and Alina’s relationship is allowed to grow tense without breaking, and how it’s a clear sign of change but not abandonment. I love how both characters are able to think for themselves and become self-aware and are given the chance to think critically. I love the character interaction so much because it’s honest and fresh and engaging. Everything from the smallest action to the most off-hand thought is in character and meaningful and incorporated with an amazing style of writing. It’s a very refreshing piece, and the writing only makes it that much better.

Bunnies of a Feather Stitch Together by Ill_Ratte (Complete)

"Just as Alina called to the light, gathering and twisting it into a ball in her hands, the door swung open.

Kirigan blacked out the door frame. His appearance enough would have surprised Alina, but there was something clutched in his arm, something dark and floppy. It almost looked like the stuffed toys that had been passed around to the younger Orphans." - Alina and The Darkling bond over a love of soft things

---

Soft stuffed animal shenanigans. Bits of trans!Aleksander, which I’m very fond of, as well as just a lot of fluff with a bit of something bittersweet and sad in a good way.

Half Lie by Ill_Ratte (Complete)

"Baghra always talked of the demon that had stolen her daughter." Or, Alina learns the hard way that the Darkling isn't the only one who deals in half-truths

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This one is trans!Aleksander, and it handles it in a very interesting way. It’s quite sad, and deals a lot with Baghra & Aleksander’s relationship through Alina’s POV. I want to give a warning for transphobia, because it does center around that a lot as the premise, but it really is worth the read if that isn’t a trigger for you. This is one of my favorite trans!Aleksander fics, and the way it handles emotion and grief and pain is quite extraordinary.

The CEO and Helioseismologist by mrthology (Complete)

Aleksander Morozova doesn't get sick. He's the CEO of one of the most successful companies in the world, one that he had built from the ground up with blood, sweat, and tears. He exercised daily (usually), maintained a healthy diet, and kept himself fit.

He wasn’t sick.

Too bad no one believed him. And too bad Genya decided to call Ivan to take him home before also calling Alina to take care of him.

Maybe, just maybe, being sick wasn't so bad. Especially not when he has such a wonderful girlfriend.

---

Both of the fics in this series are great, but I love this one in particular because I’m an absolute sucker for hurt/comfort. Anyone who’s been on my blog for a while knows that it’s my all time favorite trope to read, and this fic fits the hurt/comfort trope to a T in the best of ways. It’s very tender and in character, and Aleksander and Alina are so soft with each other. It’s adorable and really makes you feel for Aleksander, and the caretaking is done perfectly.

All the different layers of dark (thousand little suns) by Anuna (Complete)

One month after the Winter Fete, Aleksander returns to the Little Palace, and Alina has been missing him.

Episode five canon divergence in which Alina had never left Os Alta.

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This one is soft emotional hurt/comfort smut. They’re both so open and vulnerable with each other, and it’s so beautiful to read. I love the writing style and the emotion in this one. It makes my heart ache in the best way.

An Honourable Man by liviy695 (Complete)

A reimagining of the scene after the winter fete. Alina catches a glimpse of a caring Darkling after he returns from integrating the Conductor. Plus, no Baghra interference.

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This one is what it says on the tin, in that Baghra doesn’t interfere and they’re allowed to talk after the Darkling interrogates the Conductor. But more than that, it’s a great imagining of how a scene where Aleksander reveals Marie’s death would have gone. There’s a sort of quiet to it that I appreciate, with grief and solemnity weighed against care and vulnerability.

I see the real you (even if you don’t, I do) by Anonymous (Incomplete - 8/?)

A series of questionable decisions lead Alina to meet the Black General a bit earlier. Butterfly effect ensues.

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I’ve only read half so far (I hadn’t realized it had updated!! 👀👀) but I’m already in love with this fic. Alina’s dialogue and perspective is perfect, her relationship with Mal and the other cartographers is great, and I really enjoy how much personality she has. Aleksander is so smitten, but more than that, his characterization is soft but not weak. It feels almost as if he’s swept up by Alina, instead of the other way around, and I quite like that.

Of parenting by Anuna (Complete)

Alina finds out how her husband handled yet another parenting situation.

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This is pure adorable Darklina parenting fluff and I live for it. Yet it doesn’t lack depth and in fact explored Alina and Aleksander’s relationship with parenting quite well.

i have a longing by LRCee - @ladylyannastark (Complete)

“So, Alina Starkov, risk-taker, how did you end up being editing’s newest wunderkind?”

Alina Starkov is rising in the publishing world. Singlehandedly responsible for editing (see: rewriting) the hottest book of the year, she lands a coveted spot at Morovoz Publishers. It's the position she's always wanted, at the biggest publishing house in the country. Life is perfect. That crush on her boss though, that's gotta go.

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OKAY! I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH!! Let me tell you, as someone who is not too fond of Boss/Employee dynamics, I was very wary going into this fic. But boy did it deliver in a way that was perfect for me.

The relationship that develops between Aleksander and Alina is complex but healthy, and it never feels as if there’s too much of a power imbalance or anything that would make Alina feel forced or unhappy. The tension lies purely in how she fears others will perceive her, and not in how unhealthy her relationship with Aleksander is. For somebody who’s often attracted to unhealthy ships, I have to say that my favorite fics are usually ones that don’t have that type of dynamic between the characters. This fic delivers on that.

Also, Aleksander’s POV surrounding his struggle with his Russian heritage and his feelings for Alina is amazing, and has some of the best writing and characterization I’ve seen.

You receive: an evil demon; I receive: human souls by @aceofnowhere (Complete)

The next morning while she tried to tell herself it was a dream, that of course there wasn’t a fucking demon in her house, she found a note taped to her fridge.

“You might eat this shit,” it had written, “but I would like some fucking souls please.”

Darkling Week Prompt 7: free choice. Alina has a demon in her house.

This is absolute crack, and I have no idea what the fuck is wrong with me.

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May I just say that this is the most fun I’ve ever had when reading a fic. It’s interesting with a bit of mystery, and Aleksander as a little shit of a demon is hilarious. Alina in this fic is great too. It’s such a unique take on her POV, especially when you reread it after knowing the ending. 10000/10, this fic is brilliant in every way and I love it.

I had been lost to you, Sunlight by BrytteMystere (Complete)

A Girl became a Woman, became a Sankta, became a Goddess.

Or: An Immortal Alina calls upon merzost to reunite with the Prince of Shadows she lost long ago. She may have lost herself in the process.

But then again, maybe time and endless wars did that instead.

---

You really just have to read this one to get it. It is utterly haunting and fascinating in the best of ways. The writing style is strange and novel and fits so well with the story being told. The composition of the fic as a whole is genius.

I Look Inside Myself (And See My Heart Is Black) by Ceris_Malfoy (Complete)

"When is a monster not a monster? Why, when you love it, of course."

Written for Darklina Week 2021 - Day 6: Favorite Quote • King & Queen • Monster

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Once more, this author comes through with an absolutely breathtaking writing style and story. The imagery is elegant yet brutal, simultaneously horrifying and glorious. There’s a certain way these stories are written, like fairytales, where the beautiful becomes the macabre and becomes ever more stunning because of it. It’s very dark but in a good way - an almost bewitching way.

Afterlife by @aceofnowhere (Complete)

“You are asking me to leave?”

“Not asking, shadow,” she said. “Telling. Time to get unlost, loser.”

Day 3 Darklina Week prompt: Modern AU (I mean, barely)

Alina expels ghosts from purgatory.

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@aceofnowhere once again bringing the best of the paranormal to the Grishaverse. Literally everything you write is amazing idk why I’m even pointing out individual fics when I could just rec your whole page. But anyways!! This is fun and interesting and Alina is a badass. Aleksander is, of course, compelling and dark and kind of a little shit, and it’s all incorporated seamlessly into an existential paranormal narrative.

Once Upon a Shooting Star by Ceris_Malfoy (Complete)

"But most of all, she was drawn to a vast darkness that reached out above all of them, a void so hungry for companionship that she knew she could fulfill."

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Let. Alina. Be. Feral!! Anyways, I clearly have a type when it comes to storytelling, and it’s whatever the fuck this person has got going on. Feral!Star!Alina is literally the light of my life. Her interactions with not only other people but the world in general are so well done, but my favorite parts about this fic are the numerous ways her relationship with Aleksander is described and depicted.

I love the dark and light imagery, especially with how it’s portrayed as them filling in the gaps of each other’s lives and supporting each other instead of trying to block each other out. There’s such clear passion and joy and love and devotion between them. The central focus of this fic is on her and Aleksander’s relationship, the interplay between them and their powers and the way her light fills his loneliness, the passing of adoration and trust and reliance between them. It’s very beautiful and I love it.

A Blaze of Light by Keira_63 (Complete)

They discover the Sun Summoner in the burnt-out remains of the Shu laboratory in which she has spent the last seven years of her life.

Or, the Darkling finds himself with a Sun Summoner whose greatest wish is to burn Shu Han to the ground. He is happy to oblige her.

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👀👀 Badass Alina and Badass Aleksander. The ultimate power couple, and Alina burning a path through Shu Han before they both burn a path through the world together. The darkness and rage in this one are handled very well, and the way that rage turns to coldness and then resolve is done so well. This fic is very cathartic and also very furious, and reading it is certainly a trip down emotion lane.

One more for the Road by Rist (Complete)

He returns to the war room shaken, and finds an Alina that cannot leave without at least having tried.

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This one hurts so much but its soooo gooood!!! Very smutty but also very tender and very bittersweet. Sad and soft all at once. I just... love the way Alina and Aleksander are written so much, and Alina’s complicated feelings for him are explored in such detail and depth. This one is truly worth the read.

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bbangsoonie · 3 years

Text

creker academy

member: eric genre: fluff (ft some angst), fantasy au word count: 6,182 synopsis: after finally triggering your hidden powers, fate lands you at creker academy, a special boarding school meant for shapeshifters. there, you learn how to control your abilities and that opposites do indeed attract.

The day you found out that you were adopted was the day your life fell apart. The secret was hidden from you until your uncle coldly drew the line at your parents’ funeral. He told you that he had no intention of taking responsibility for his brother’s actions and that you were no longer a part of the family.

That was how you ended up living alone in a tiny half-basement studio. You barely managed to afford the deposit and rent with the consolation money you received from the funeral.

Every day, Hyunjoon would come knocking at your door and every day, you would turn him away. It had only been a month since you became independent and the scar of losing your parents was still fresh. You were also too ashamed to face your friends. You didn’t want their pity and so you hid away in isolation.

On the night of your birthday, the pain became too unbearable. Although you aged another year, you were still only a teenager. Granted, you were in your last year of high school but you were still a minor. Having to fend for yourself in this harsh world was too much for you to handle.

As you cried yourself to sleep, you could feel a cold coming. The heat from your headache spread to the rest of your body and you felt yourself burning up.

After you bought some medicine from the pharmacy, you slipped into a deep slumber. Your dreams were wildly vivid. You dreamt of an enchanted forest that enticed you to take refuge in its comfort. There, animals of all species ran free and in harmony. It promised you acceptance and a home.

“It’s time you learn of your identity,” a soft voice spoke.

As soon as the whisper tickled your ears, the entire forest was up in flames. Strangely, you weren’t struck with fear. Rather, you felt empowered.

“Y/n, you need to learn how to control yourself,” the voice warned.

It was only then that you started to panic. The flames were engulfing everything in sight and all the animals were running for their lives.

“Y/n, you have to wake up. Now,” the voice commanded.

With that, your eyes shot open. To your horror, the scene in your dreams reflected the view in front of you. Your house was on fire and you were slowly getting cornered by the heat. Frightened, you look to the door only to see it consumed by the blaze.

“Trust your instincts, Y/n,” the voice in your head cooed. “Let your body take control.”

Bewildered, you had no idea what that meant. All you knew was that you had to get out of there. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to think of a solution. When you reopened them, the room seemed to be a lot bigger than normal. At that moment, you saw the window cracked open. It was your only hope.

Your body felt different when you stood up.

“Why am I so short all of a sudden?” you wondered.

You looked down and almost screamed when you saw paws instead of your feet. Except a meow came out of your throat instead.

You didn’t have time to freak out about it. Feeling something hot graze your tail, you jumped up and landed on the window sill. Your innate desire for survival kicked in and you squeezed through the opening to escape.

Once you felt fresh air in your lungs again, you ran. And ran. And ran. You didn’t know why or where you were going, but something in you told you to run. Your legs kept sprinting until they reached the forest that appeared in your dream. They came to a slow stop when you realized where you were.

“What is this place?” you pondered.

“This is the border between our world and the human world,” a woman in white suddenly emerged from the trees. “You are now about to cross into our territory.”

It was the same voice from your dream. Trying to grasp the situation, you opened your mouth to ask a million questions. But again, a meow replaced your voice.

“It’ll be easier for you to transition back once you're on our grounds,” she assured. She bent down and gestured for you to jump into her arms.

Not seeing any other option, you hesitantly took her offer. With you safely in her embrace, she passed through a translucent wall that revealed what looked like a huge campus. Your jaw dropped as you observed your surroundings. There were students walking around the magical place. You saw a girl tending the garden and gasped when her hands hovered above the flowers to revive them.

The woman brought you to an office you presumed to be hers and placed you in front of a mirror. Your shriek came out as a cute yelp and she chuckled.

“I-I’m a cat!” you thought.

“There’s an outfit you can change into once you return to your human form,” she pointed at the black dress neatly prepared on the table.

The second she finished her sentence, you felt a bare sensation. Looking down, you screeched at your naked body. Embarrassed and horrified, you quickly clothed yourself with the dress.

“W-What’s going on?” you asked, relieved to finally hear your own voice again.

“I’m sure you felt different from others your whole life?” she asked. It sounded more like a statement rather than a question.

She wasn’t wrong. All your life, you never felt like you fitted in anywhere. Maybe your body knew you were adopted before your mind did and ostracized itself. Or maybe you truly were different. You had weird talents that other kids thought were freaky, making you hide them and become introverted. For instance, you were suspiciously good at starting fires from scratch at summer camp and didn’t feel any pain when your shirt accidentally caught on fire.

“I know this must be shocking to you but you’re special, Y/n. We’ve been waiting for you. Waiting for you to trigger your powers to bring you here,” she smiled.

“My what?” you gaped.

“Your powers. What you just did back at your old house and right now. You’re a shapeshifter, Y/n. A shapeshifter with the element of fire,” she explained.

“I’m a what now?” you scoffed in disbelief.

“Creker Academy is a school and home for students just like you. It’s a place meant to train you how to control your powers. Without our guidance, you’ll lead down a path of self-destruction.”

Baffled by her words, you stared in silence. There was no way any of this was true. Surely this had to be a dream.

“This isn’t a prank or a dream, Y/n. You’ve finally found where you belong,” she clarified.

Belong. You had never felt like you really belonged anywhere. But now, someone was telling you that you belonged with them. That they wanted you there. That they had been waiting for you.

“I understand you must feel overwhelmed. But there are procedures to follow so I’m afraid you will have to begin your tour first. A fellow student will be arriving soon to show you around.”

As if on cue, a boy around your age knocked on the door and came in after receiving the woman’s permission to enter.

“Hello, Headmaster,” he bowed.

“Eric, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is Eric. He will be helping you adjust here,” she introduced.

Eric was bright eyed and eager to meet a new friend. You, on the other hand, were quite reserved and uncomfortable in your new environment.

He was excitedly pointing out the purpose of each room you passed by and rambled on about the social norms of the boarding school. You learned that on top of academics, there were classes on virtues and physical training. And of course, classes that taught you how to properly use and contain your powers.

The use of magic was strictly prohibited inside any and all buildings. Students could practice their skills outside but were forbidden from any acts that could potentially put someone or something at risk. That was the one rule that was rigidly enforced and obeyed.

“So what animal and element are you?” he curiously pried. “I’m a dog with the element of water.”

“I’m… apparently a cat,” you felt ridiculous saying it aloud. “And control fire.”

“Ah, you’re a member of the fire element,” he nodded. “What that means is that your element rivals with mine. Some people see fire elements as hotheaded, impulsive, and extreme. Water elements are sometimes emotional, sensitive, and antisocial. But those are all just stereotypes, of course. Not everyone fits into the standard. I, for one, am very outgoing. And your animal obviously plays a role in your personality. I guess the dog in me overpowers the water.”

You had moved on from the indoor portion of the tour to the outside part. He was showing you the garden you had passed by earlier. It was full of flowers that wouldn’t be in bloom this season in the normal world.

“I’m a strong believer in that there are good traits about each element. For example, fire elements are passionate, inspirational, and expressive. They’re arguably the most fun people you’ll ever meet. Water elements are empathetic, imaginative, and loving. But again, all this is relative and doesn’t accurately describe each person,” he reminded. “The only reason there’s still a stupid feud is because some people love sticking to the status quo and labeling others.”

“What are the other elements? Air and earth?”

“Yup! Air elements are independent, talkative, fickle, and nonconformists. Most likely social butterflies. Earth elements are disciplined, loyal, organized, and judgemental. Oftentimes the leader.”

Eric greeted a male student who was passing by with two other boys. He exchanged smiles with the three of them who offered you a kind nod of acknowledgement.

“That was Sangyeon. He’s a bear. On his left is Jacob, a rabbit. The one on the right is Younghoon, who’s also a dog like me. They’re all earth elements,” he disclosed. “Sangyeon is the class representative of our grade. Definitely fits the leader stereotype.”

You couldn’t get over how thrilled he was to be your tour guide. He was filling you in on even the little details of the social life at the academy. He told you about how transfer students were rare and that it was his first time seeing a new student.

His vibrancy contrasted your somber aura. If he noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He was having too much fun getting to know you.

“Oh! That’s Hyunjae and Juyeon,” Eric suddenly pointed at a pair of boys on a morning run. He waved at the two who waved back before speeding up.

“The one with brown hair is Hyunjae, a wolf and fire element. His real name is Jaehyun but he changed it to Hyunjae once he got to Creker Academy. Juyeon’s the one with black hair and is a cat like you. Except he’s a water element like me,” he grinned. “They’re my best friends. Oh, and this guy named Sunwoo who’s a raccoon with the element of fire. As you can see, water and fire elements can get along fine and well. So don’t listen to anyone who says otherwise.”

By the time he was done showing you around, a bell rang and students began to convene inside. Eric explained that the bell was signaling the beginning of classes and brought you to his homeroom.

“Breakfast is buffet style and self served. It’s up to you to wake up and come down to eat. The cafeteria remains open for an hour until that bell rings and we have to get to class,” he said you entered.

Looking around for an empty seat, his face lit up when he spotted one. He sat at his desk and tapped on the one behind him to let you know that it was yours to take.

You still hadn’t processed all that’s happened since dawn. Everything felt like a haze. Nevertheless, you found yourself paying attention when the teacher walked in. He scanned the room to find a new face and smiled when he made eye contact with you.

“Alright, guys. I’m happy to announce that we have a new student that will be joining us starting today,” he beckoned for you to come up to the front of the classroom.

You wanted to shrivel up and crawl into a hole. Feeling your classmates gazes on you, you gulped and began to sweat. You were never a fan of attention. You quickly introduced yourself before rushing back to your seat, eliciting giggles from a few students. Your cheeks heated up and you felt that burning tingle again.

The awkwardness made you transform back into a cat, making your classmates gasp. Their intensified stares made the tips of your fur ignite, alarming the teacher who tried to calm you down.

“Well I guess she’s a fire cat,” a girl snickered.

Eric shot her a glare before leaning in to ask if you wanted him to put the fire out with his water. Not knowing what else to do, you nodded and the next thing you knew, you were drenched.

So much for your first day.

You ran out of the room before you could change back into a human. You fled but didn’t know where to go. You grew anxious, desperately hoping you wouldn’t end up flashing anyone.

“Hey!” someone called out. You turned around to see a male approaching you. Panicking, you dove into a bush.

“You’re the newbie, right?” he asked, taking something out of his bag. He dug out a large t-shirt and a pair of shorts and placed them in front of you. “I usually carry around a spare outfit in case of emergencies. I hope you don’t mind the fit.”

You were still in your animal form so you peaked your head out to look at him.

“My name’s Chanhee. Air element penguin,” he squatted down to meet your eyes. “Everyone’s first day is rough. You’re not the only one who’s had incidents like this so try not to feel so bad about it.”

He stood to go back to class, leaving you to change in privacy once you returned to your normal body. Your hair was still wet as you dragged yourself back to the headmaster’s office.

The headmaster looked at you with pity when you walked in looking worn out. You didn’t have to tell her for her to know what happened.

“How about I show you to your dorm?” she warmly suggested. Anything was better than returning to the classroom.

Due to your late enrollment, you were assigned a single room as opposed to the traditional double rooms. You were glad you didn’t have to go through the process of meeting and getting used to a roommate. It was a small but cozy space and the closet was filled with clothes.

You realized all of your belongings were probably burned down in your old home. Now you really didn’t have anything to go back to.

Before the headmaster left to allow you to settle in, she insisted that you join your classmates for lunch later. You wanted to say that you just wanted to stay in your room but her stern look had you close your mouth.

So you begrudgingly made your way to the cafeteria and gawked at the amount of students packed inside. Feeling them stare at you, you tried to ignore their whispers as you grabbed a tray of food. To your relief, you saw Eric motioning you over and went to go sit down next to him.

His group of friends was fairly large. You saw the boys he had named earlier that day and were surprised to see Chanhee again.

“Hi! I’m Changmin,” one enthusiastically waved. “I’m an air squirrel.”

“Haknyeon, air pig,” another raised his hand.

“My animal is a hamster and my element is water. You can call me Kevin,” the last one smiled.

After shyly exchanging greetings with everyone, you poked at the rice on your plate. The food was undeniably better than the food served at your old school. However, thinking about your old school made your stomach drop as you thought of the friends you left behind. You were sure Hyunjoon was worried sick about you.

“Do you hate water? And have you always hated water? I would assume you don’t like it very much as a cat and fire element,” Changmin looked at you with sparkling eyes that displayed his curiosity.

“Yeah I actually never learned how to swim. I guess that explains why. I never had a reason when my friends asked me about it,” you mused. In hindsight, your unreasonable hatred and fear of water made sense.

“Interesting, interesting,” he nodded.

Like that, the next couple of months flew by. You were put on an intensive program to catch up with your peers and received one-on-one tutoring to help you learn how to shapeshift at will. You could now easily turn into a cat but still had trouble returning to your human form.

To your dismay, you were denied communication with the outside world. The headmaster was very much against risking having the academy and everyone’s identities exposed. Which meant that you weren’t allowed to contact anyone from your previous life.

One good thing was that you were no longer the hot topic of the school. People’s interest in you died down when you didn’t reciprocate theirs.

You grew close to Eric and his group of friends. They were an interesting bunch. Each of them were uniquely chaotic.

Eric was the exact opposite of you. Literally. As a water element dog, his personality contrasted your fiery cat. Everything from your food tastes to fashion style were different. Yet, you felt the most comfortable with him. He brought light into your life and made adjusting to your new school easier.

You were also always at odds with Juyeon. Although you were both cats, he was everything you weren’t. He was sweet but you just didn’t match on so many things. This meant for a very awkward but pleasant friendship.

You got along best with Chanhee. His air side complemented your fire and he quickly became your closest friend. He was both sassy and caring and you appreciated his endless concern and support for you.

Changmin was a wild card. He and Sunwoo wrecked havoc everywhere they went as Younghoon and Haknyeon incited them while Kevin and Jacob were trying their best to prevent them from destroying the campus. Sangyeon and Hyunjae, who were usually busy with student council matters, were the only ones who could calm everyone down but sometimes chose to enjoy the mayhem.

“Did you guys hear the rumors?” Sunwoo bursted through the classroom door panting. “The headmaster is considering an overnight field trip for the seniors!”

Jaws dropped and gasps spread throughout the students. The room was immediately in a buzz as everyone was shocked and excited at the possibility of leaving the sealed territory. It had been 5 years since students were allowed a trip in the outside world.

The homeroom teacher came in and hushed everyone to quiet down. He couldn’t hide the smile that forced its way onto his face after seeing how happy his students looked.

“Is it true we might get a senior trip?” Haknyeon impatiently asked.

“I cannot comment on that. An official announcement will be made later today,” the teacher said.

“That’s not a no!” Younghoon squealed.

True to his words, the headmaster’s voice was heard over the PA system before the dismissal bell. She congratulated the seniors on their hard work and announced that they would be given the opportunity to sign up to spend 3 days and 2 nights on a cruise.

The entire floor of students erupted into cheers and you heard footsteps run across as they barged into classrooms to find their friends and rejoice together. Changmin came into your classroom dragging Kevin and Juyeon behind him.

“Guys, I can’t believe it! It’s been forever since I last saw humans,” Changmin gushed.

“The whole point of us going on a private boat is to ensure that we don’t have any run-ins with humans,” Kevin reminded.

“Yeah but I’m sure we’d pass by them on our way there,” Changmin rolled his eyes.

Sangyeon, Hyunjae, and Jacob strolled in, greeting your group of friends with a nod of acknowledgment. They waited as the rest of you gathered your stuff to leave together.

“Everyone’s going, right? Y/n, you too?” Eric asked.

“Umm,” you hesitated as you looked at their expectant eyes. “I honestly don’t know if it’d be a good idea… I’m still not in complete control over my powers.”

“Aw but Y/n! You can’t miss out on this once in a lifetime trip with all of us!” Sunwoo whined.

“Yeah, it’ll be your last time leaving campus before graduating! Plus, it’ll be your first and last major bonding experience with our class,” Younghoon pouted.

“I know how hard fire can be to control. If you want, I can stay with you and try to help you detect signs of distress before it manifests itself,” Hyunjae offered.

“And I‘ll be next to you to put out any accidents!” Eric beamed.

“You know I always have extra clothes in my bag,” Chanhee added.

You couldn’t say no to the 11 pairs of pleading eyes. They all so desperately wanted you to go with them that it warmed your heart. It hadn’t even been long since you first met them but they always treated you like you were with them from the start.

So you added your name to the list of students and that was how you ended up dragging your suitcase to the giant cruise ship. Haknyeon was bouncing in excitement next to you as the throng of high schoolers slowly made their way inside.

Room assignments were the same as back at the academy, which meant that you were in a single by yourself again. Changmin expressed his envy as Chanhee happily pulled him into their shared room.

Once you were unpacked, you headed to the deck and admired the seascape. The ship was already sailing into the vast ocean and the endless horizon felt so freeing. Leaning on the handrails, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The salty smell brought back memories of visiting the beach with your parents.

You felt someone join you but didn’t open your eyes. You could tell by their footsteps that it was Eric.

“Enjoying the change in environment?” he asked.

“Makes me a bit nostalgic,” you said as you opened your eyes.

The wind was strong and the waves were violently crashing into the sides of the boat. With the sun glistening in the water’s reflection, you squinted a bit to appreciate the scenery in front of you.

“Isn’t the view so pretty?” you sighed in content. You didn’t notice that he wasn’t looking at the sea. Instead, he was staring at you.

“Yeah. Extremely pretty,” he found himself saying with a soft smile.

To Eric’s slight annoyance, Sunwoo came and tactlessly interrupted the moment to tell you two to meet everyone else at the pool. He was raving about the jacuzzi next to it and eagerly tugged at Eric’s sleeve to hurry him up.

Younghoon was already shoving Hyunjae’s head underwater when you arrived. Jacob waved at you from the chaise lounge and you sat down next to him. Giggling, you watched Sangyeon climb on top of both of them as Juyeon egged him on. Changmin and Chanhee were relaxing in the jacuzzi while Kevin and Haknyeon were piling food on their plates at the snack bar.

Eric was thrown into the pool thanks to Sunwoo’s push and he emerged to the surface screaming and laughing. Using his powers to add more pressure, he splashed Sunwoo with water, who ran off shrieking.

“Do you not like the water as well?” you turned around to face Jacob.

“I don’t necessarily dislike it but I don’t really like it either,” he shrugged. “I don’t mind jumping in if the guys tell me to join.”

“Do you hate the water or are you afraid of it?” Haknyeon asked as he and Kevin took a seat next to you.

“I guess both?” you answered.

“You know, contrary to popular belief, I’m actually not that fond of large bodies of water either,” Kevin said as he offered Jacob a bite of his pizza. “Pretty weird for a water element, huh?”

“Hey, hey, we don’t stick to stereotypes. We are all individuals with personalities and preferences unique to our own character,” Jacob chided.

“Oh how I love confirmation biases,” Haknyeon joked.

You had to admit it was pretty interesting to see how each person matched and defied their element and animal characteristics. It was like taking a personality test and fervently agreeing with the parts that were true and blatantly ignoring the parts that weren’t.

The rest of the day was spent fooling around and playing games. There was never a dull moment with the boys. They were always in high spirits and full of energy.

Even at dinner, your table was the loudest one. Juyeon had been sneakily stealing a few bites of fish off of Haknyeon’s plate, who took great offense when he finally noticed. Meanwhile, Eric was bargaining with Younghoon for his chicken. At the mention of chicken, Hyunjae joined in on the negotiation of the last piece of meat.

So far, you haven't had a risky moment with either your element or animal. You were in complete control and didn’t need guidance—although Chanhee remained by your side just in case. When you made it back to your room to call it a night, you were relieved and proud that the trip was going smoothly without any hiccups.

Perhaps you spoke too early.

In one of the rooms down the hall, a girls’ night had turned awry. One of the girls, a water element, began crying and started a waterflow that got out of hand. The more she panicked and tried to stop it, the higher the water rose. It quickly seeped into the hallway and into other rooms.

With her friends screaming at her to make it stop, it only escalated with a loud whoosh as the door broke open from the pressure. Now in full panic mode, the girls shrieked and realized that the place was flooding from the inside out.

They trudged through the rising water to flee, banging on doors on their way out. Doors swung open as students woke up from the commotion.

By the time Juyeon finally managed to wake Eric up from his deep sleep, the water was nearly up to the bed. The roommates freaked out, wondering what the heck was going on. Juyeon quickly grabbed his bag and hurried Eric to leave.

On their way out, however, they saw that your door was still closed.

“Shit, Y/n can’t swim,” Eric gasped.

“The water’s not that deep yet. Let’s get her out while it’s still walkable,” Juyeon said as he threw his bag down and started walking towards your room.

Meanwhile, you were still sound asleep. You were startled awake by the pounding. When you registered the situation, the fear made you shift into a cat before you could get up and unlock the door. You anxiously glanced at the closed door as the water began to climb up your body.

Outside, Eric felt a pit form in his stomach. Getting worried, he decided to break your door open. With the help of Juyeon, he barely slammed the heavy wood down by mustering up all the strength he had.

“Y/n!” he yelled when he finally saw you.

You were struggling to keep your head above the water and it was getting harder by the second to not breathe in the liquid. He rushed to pick you up and kept you afloat even when he stumbled. The waves were now reaching his chest.

Juyeon transformed into his cat form to swim as Eric trekked through the hall. You were clinging onto him and Eric was holding onto you tightly as well. You could feel him pant and his heart beat fast. Tucked under his arm, you looked up to see beads of sweat falling from his forehead.

Your own heart skipped a beat at the sight. You could tell how much he cared for you. He made you feel wanted. Needed. Important.

You two were polar opposites but still complemented each other so well. He was the optimism you lacked and you were his rock. You kept him grounded and he made you laugh.

When you finally escaped to the deck, Juyeon stepped away to change back into a human and put on clothes. Your friends crowded around you, Younghoon drying you off with a towel and Chanhee placing a clean outfit next to you.

“Alright, everyone, settle down,” the headmaster called out, turning heads. “I’m glad you’re all safely out but it’ll take some time to drain the water. Please calmly stay in groups until we sort everything out.”

Thanks to your months of training, you were now able to sense when your transformation was about to occur. You grabbed the clothes with your mouth and ran off before you could flash anyone. You sheepishly returned wearing one of Chanhee’s pajama shirts and with water still dripping from your hair.

“Y/n!” Sunwoo dramatically whined, jumping you for a hug. Displeased, Eric peeled him off of you and handed you another towel.

“Thanks, Eric,” you smiled. “For… everything.”

“No problem,” he grinned as he ruffled your head.

“Thank God these two got you out safe and sound,” Sangyeon sighed in relief. You apologized for worrying everyone, to which Hyunjae insisted that you had no reason to feel sorry.

Luckily, the next day was not as eventful. A dinner party was prepared for the last night on the cruise and you got to dress up and have fun. You enjoyed a relaxing time in the ballroom with music playing from the speakers and the boys embarrassing themselves on the dance floor.

You giggled as you watched Changmin ask his crush for a dance after Chanhee quite literally pushed his friend to approach her. It was sweet to see both of them all shy in each other’s arms.

Juyeon nudged Eric and nodded in your direction to ask if he was going to ask you to dance as well. When Eric pretended not to know what he was talking about, Sunwoo joined in to tease him.

“Come on, bro. We all know you like her. Just hurry up and make a move already,” Sunwoo snickered.

“Ooh are we talking about Y/n?” Hyunjae came after eavesdropping.

“I hate you guys,” Eric rolled his eyes as he tried to hide his blush.

Learning from Chanhee, Sunwoo shoved his best friend towards you and fled after he bumped into you. Shooting him a glare, Eric silently swore at him with his eyes. He cringed before turning around to face you.

He felt his breath being stolen away when his eyes met yours. You were absolutely stunning. The glimmer of the chandelier shining on your enhanced your features and he found himself lost in your orbs.

From a few tables away, Kevin and Jacob had joined the other three guys to fanboy over the interaction. Juyeon whispered “he’s totally whipped” to Sunwoo who failed to hold back his laughter. Eric, however, didn’t even notice. He was too busy gaping at you.

“Uhh is there something on my face?” you asked, bringing your palm to your cheek. You were slightly self conscious at his intense staring.

“Beauty,” he blurted. Trying to play it cool, he acted confident and ignored the burst of laughter from his friends. You felt your face heat up at his comment and awkwardly coughed as you looked away.

“Y-You look great too,” you stuttered.

On his way to pour himself some more punch, Chanhee loudly told you to just dance with Eric. He passed by and continued to walk towards the drinks without a care as to how flustered he left you two. Your friends were practically doubling over in laughter at this point.

So Eric boldly held your hand and gently guided you to the dance floor. Feeling your body heat up, he applied his cooling powers on you to prevent you from igniting flames.

“I guess we could say there’s a spark between us,” he joked.

The rest of the night flew by in a blur. You hadn’t felt so carefree in so long. For the first time in a while, you weren’t hung up on the past or worried about the future. You simply appreciated the moment as you were living it.

You never expected things to turn out the way it did. With the death of your parents, you lost a lot of things. But your new friends made you feel complete again. They healed you in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

The revelation of your true identity also brought you peace. You no longer felt like the odd one out. Your own powers didn’t scare you and you felt safe learning about them at the boarding school.

However, you began to doubt all of that the second you docked back on land. You were chatting with Eric about his favorite ramen brand when an all-too-familiar voice made you freeze.

“Y/n..?” he carefully called out. He slowly came up to see if it really was you and gasped when he saw that it was.

Eric didn’t know why he suddenly felt uneasy. Maybe it was because an unknown male had made a reappearance in your life or maybe it was because he recognized the way he was looking at you. It was the same way he looked at you as well.

Chanhee, now protective and defensive, slightly pushed you to the back to ask who he was.

“It’s okay, Chanhee. He’s my friend,” you assured, stepping forward.

Juyeon scowled, not liking that you were interacting with people from the human world. It was borderline going against the rules.

“Hey, Hyunjoon. Long time no see,” you timidly greeted.

“Are you kidding me? You disappeared after a fire burned down your house and that’s all you have to say to me?” Hyunjoon fumed.

You winced at the pain evident in his voice. It had hurt you to ignore your best friend and there hadn’t been a day where you didn’t miss him. Guilt-ridden, you were unable to meet his eyes. He took you by surprise by pulling you in for a hug.

“We thought of the worst, Y/n,” he murmured. “I forgive you for going M.I.A. on me. It’s okay. Everything’s fine as long as you’re here.”

You choked back tears but couldn’t stop one from falling down your cheek. You heard the headmaster gathering the students to get on the bus back home and knew that you didn’t have much time before you had to leave him again. Sangyeon patted you on the shoulder and ran ahead to ask the headmaster for leniency.

“I-I have to go soon,” you stammered as you broke away from his embrace.

“Go where? You’re not coming back home?” Hyunjoon asked.

“I… have a new home now,” you gulped. “I can’t tell you where and I can’t promise that I’ll be able to see you again. But I’ve missed you. I still do.”

“Are you safe?” he whispered after staying silent for a bit. “Are you happy?”

You took a glimpse of your group of friends that was unconvincingly pretending to not listen to the conversation. It almost made you chuckle despite the situation.

“Yeah,” you trailed off. “I’m doing well, Hyunjoon. And I hope the same for you. I’m sorry.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” he forced a smile as he hugged you one last time. “Bye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Hyunjoon.”

It pained you to see him watch you walk away. Your heart broke with each step you took. On the ride back to the forest, you stared out the window. Eric, sitting next to you, softly squeezed your hand to offer you some comfort.

“I made the right choice, right?” you asked, leaning on his shoulder.

“Do you regret it?” he cautiously asked.

You thought about it. You definitely missed Hyunjoon and all of your other old friends. You also definitely felt bad that you left them behind without a word and still couldn’t provide an explanation. But at the same time, you’ve grown to love your new school and new friends. You no longer had to be on edge without even knowing the reason why. Creker Academy made you feel confident. The boys made you feel accepted. Eric made you feel loved.

“No,” you answered with certainty. “Not at all.”

a/n: for the eric to my sunwoo, @sohnhorizon

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vidavalor · 3 years

Text

A ‘why Bucky stopped responding to Sam’s texts’ analysis...

This turned into a whole thing about not just the texts but the evolution of SamBucky in TFATWS so yeah, make a hot drink and get cozy if you want to read this as it’s a little on the wordy side...

So, what we know is that Bucky stopped responding to Sam’s texts ahead of TFATWS but *before* Sam decided to retire the shield. I’ve seen speculation on what event could have caused this and I think the fact that we aren’t entirely told it in so many words, plus some other clues from the show might lead us to one conclusion. Obviously, this is just what I see here and there are other ways to interpret it but some thoughts for anyone who feels like reading them... :)

The answer to why Bucky stopped responding to Sam’s texts is actually the shield, just not in the way that we think it is. Go back to Endgame and the scenes between Sam and Bucky. The amount of *feeling* there is already present and plentiful-- Bucky looks at Sam with naked love, right at him, and Sam touches Bucky so tenderly that it’s a bit heartbreaking. That little thumb swish on his shoulder at the funeral? That’s familiar and sweet and comes with intimacy born of the knowledge that Bucky is okay with him in his space. Between Sam knowing he has permission that others really don’t to touch Bucky (also add in how he’s a little jealous when Steve hugs Bucky) and between Bucky not hiding how he feels when he looks at Sam, we could speculate that there’s at least a working understanding between them happening by Endgame that they have feelings for one another. Now, hop back in time a little to see maybe what kind of understanding or what level of it they could potentially be at by Endgame...

If you go along with the idea that Sam found Bucky after The Winter Soldier and kept that a secret while he helped him to hide and that they built their whole banter-y rapport beginning then, then you also have to think that this is kind of a real slow burn romance happening. Sam is a sensitive, (semi-secretly) introverted guy who has been mourning the loss of a man who meant the world to him for years, mostly alone, atop trying to deal with his own trauma from witnessing that violent death and everything else he saw at war. He doesn’t open up easily and comes from a place of needing to seem in control of his emotions, even if he’s the first person to be there for someone else when they are struggling and is highly empathetic. Meanwhile, Bucky?

Bucky’s a mess. His memories are coming back in fragments. He’s plagued by nightmares and PTSD from the decades he’s spent as an assassin and is still on the earlier end of his healing process. Not to mention that he can’t have much in the way of normalcy because he’s on the run and in hiding. Sam is a decent man who is also experienced, both personally and professionally, when it comes to trauma recovery and he is the last man on earth who would try to take advantage of Bucky so this relationship is a friendship at the early stages. It’s one that’s complicated by their mutual attraction that won’t stop growing but they aren’t really discussing it. They’re getting to know one another and discovering that they actually like one another, as much as they try to hide it (and joke that they don’t at all.) The mutual respect grows.

This all continues until the plot results in Bucky not having to hide anymore and being able to get some help in gaining an edge over the Winter Soldier in Wakanda. This is especially true for Bucky because he might have been wildly attracted to Sam before this-- and a frustrating kind of attracted, a not-wanting-casual kind of attracted-- but he didn’t have any real hope in even thinking there could be a chance at this until Wakanda. He’d been afraid of not having enough control over his mind and somehow hurting Sam, even if he didn’t mean to. He’d been on the run, so not really a great life to offer the man you want to be with. By the time he gets to Wakanda, though, Bucky’s cautiously optimistic that even though everything always ends with a fight that maybe he could have some good things before the last one comes for him. Steve and Sam think they can get him a pardon and the Wakandans think they can help rid of him of being controlled by the trigger words and all of that does happen over the next few months for Bucky. For the first time in decades, he’s more fully his own person and can trust himself a bit more. He has gained more headspace and freedom and options and some calm.

Meanwhile, Sam? The 5-6 months when Bucky was in cryofreeze in Wakanda while Shuri figured out how to help him? He doesn’t want to go there when it comes to how much he missed Bucky. He and Steve are on the run but T’Challa is an ally so they can get into Wakanda. Sam comes to visit Bucky and is overwhelmed by how grateful he is that the deprogramming worked and Bucky is finding some peace. He watches him smile and tend goats and farm and play games with the local kids when he visits and it’s odd, in a way-- kind of like their lives have flipped around. Bucky’s the one who has a place that grounds him and Sam’s the one on the run. But more unmooring for both of them now is that there isn’t the excuse of staying away from someone who might be too in the throes of mental health problems to adequately consent because Bucky is in a place where his personal agency keeps growing and he’s more edging away from victim and into survivor mode. He’s not “fine” but no one ever is, including Sam-- but the idea of the two of them is no longer as prohibitive as it was when they first met. Sam, for his part, is healing more over Riley through his developing relationship with Bucky than he wants to admit, even if it’s obviously still traumatic and painful. They’re good for one another and grow more affectionate around the snarky banter, becoming more comfortable with letting how they feel show more.

They might get to a point of admitting that there is something between them and wanting to try for more but they’re like really, really cute about it in that they both keep trying to give one another almost too much space. Bucky knows that Sam has been through a lot and lost someone. He understands that it’s hard for him to trust and that he’s not great with casual and that, for reasons Bucky barely agrees with or understands, Sam sees him as someone he’d like to try being not casual with. Sam knows that Bucky has been through decades of trauma and that there is a really wide gap for trauma survivors between having sexual desire for someone and really feeling comfortable with the idea of having sex, let alone actually attempting that. He’s fine with going slow. Their touchiness with one another is an affirmation of all of this-- a way of saying that they’re there for each other without pressuring the other for more than they feel ready for but, at the same time, saying that they are very interested. As a result, they kind of run on this for awhile and probably don’t get much further than that because then a series of things start to get in the way of this potential romance on the cusp of these poor bastards finally getting to shag...

The first is that they reunite with Steve in Wakanda and fight Thanos for the first time which is all great but then they both get dusted right afterwards and disappear for the next five years. In a way, they’re lucky here with this because they both secretly think it’d be worse if only *one* of them had been Blipped. Would the other have found someone else? Would they still feel the same way after all that time? They’re afraid of those things and it’s another thing that shows them both how much they feel for one another. Instead, they went through the same thing and can go through the aftermath of that together as well. It’s more impactful for Sam because he’s the one with living family. He’s missed some of the early years of his nephews and he’s left Sarah on her own for five years. He leans on Bucky with the guilt of that and the two of them, in general, are starting to make some plans. Plans that involve one another.

For the first time since they met, they’re both in a place to try their hand at a relationship with one another for real. Neither of them are in hiding or on the run. Bucky is pardoned and further along in his healing process. Sam has decided he feels safe enough and ready enough for this. They’re in love and it’s basically understood between them, even if they haven’t really said the words. They’re also in a place that is different from where we see them at the start of TFATWS and that’s because the shield hasn’t entered into their plans yet.

In the post-battle/pre-Old Steve parts of Endgame, Sam and Bucky basically think they’re going to have different options when it comes to what they’re doing all day. They’re thinking of being together in terms of how they’re thinking they’ll both be Steve’s backup team in the field when Steve needs it. There’s vague talk of a garden because Bucky likes working outside and Sam wants Bucky to have all that calm like he had in Wakanda that he can handle. They’re talking about going to Delacroix at some point soon so Sam can visit with the family he’s been missing. Ya know, making plans like a married couple when they’re lucky if they’ve kissed yet, like the shy, snarky boys they are. Then, Steve... sorry but there’s no other way to put it this but Steve kind of f---s it all up.

Steve tells Bucky that he’s planning to go back to the ‘40s to find Peggy and live a normal life. Bucky, drunk on hope of the secret of his own potential normal life for the first time in basically a century, turns down Steve’s offer to join him back in their past. Steve is surprised because Steve hearts the ‘40s and thinks Bucky must want a do-over of his life but Bucky reminds him quietly that he never was much of a man of his time and he always had an eye to the future. He’s interested in the prospect of living a life here in the modern world. Bucky might have also at least hinted at the idea (or just said) that maybe he also wants to stay because his own chance at love is here in 2023, not back in the 1940s. (If Steve hadn’t already picked up on this by this point.) Steve tells Bucky that he has to pass on the shield and he wants to give it to Sam. This is a massive crisis for Bucky because there’s suddenly no way that this can work out, in Bucky’s mind-- no way for him and Sam to work out, that is. So, why then does Bucky support this plan?

Because he believes Sam is the right man to be Captain America. Because he believes in *Sam*, full-stop. He thinks Sam is the best man he’s met and the strongest. He feels this but it’s also reinforced by the fact that Steve-- Bucky’s best friend, who helped him even when he couldn’t help himself, and is a guy so good that Bucky tends to measure all men against him-- also feels this way about Sam. It’s validation for Bucky on his own feelings towards Sam and Bucky is a believer in the greater good-- and one who feels guilty for the pain he’s caused as The Winter Soldier atop that. He’s all in when it comes to supporting the idea that Sam should be the one to pick up the mantle to save the world because the world deserves Sam’s awesome goodness and will be a better place for it. As Bucky will later tell Sam in TFATWS, he and Steve weren’t thinking in terms of how Sam might feel about being handed this responsibility and Bucky acknowledges that they really didn’t think this through from all the angles necessary but it’s obvious their hearts were in a good place with it. Their intention was to honor Sam as a man worthy of something they both see as a mantle that can only be carried by men who are, well, the anti-John Walkers of the universe, and they were trying to tell Sam that they saw him as the best of men, even if they didn’t exactly win at considering it from Sam’s point of view.

What happens to Sam and Bucky’s relationship as a result of Sam getting the shield, though, happens when Bucky considers the fact that Sam having it means that he can’t see a way that their relationship will work. It was one thing when he and Sam were making quiet plans, planning to have some calm and privacy with one another, but now Sam is going to be *Captain America*. He’s going to go from lower level celebrity that a lot of people don’t even know exists to the guy who gets coverage on Good Morning, America. Bucky isn’t completely blind to race issues, either, as he knows that Sam would be the first publicly-known Black Captain America and that would come with a different kind of scrutiny. He knows how private Sam is as a person and how hard this will be, if Sam chooses to take on the shield. Bucky thinks the world might barely-- barely-- be ready to deal with a Black Captain America but he’s not naive to the world of the media. He was by Steve’s side for most of WW2 and saw how the role of Captain America is symbolic as much as mission-based. It’s about the image of the role. Bucky thinks there is no way on earth that Sam can be Captain America *and* in a relationship with Bucky.

The other side of the catch-22 is that if Sam decides *not* to take up the shield-- and he’s hinted to Bucky that he might not, he hasn’t decided yet-- then suddenly, Bucky is wondering if maybe he misjudged Sam. He sees Sam as a man who doesn’t back down from a fight, someone strong who defends others and stands up for what is right and to Bucky, that is what Captain America does and what the allies of Captain America do. He’s no stranger to feeling conflicted over how it is supporting a country that doesn’t value everyone equally-- Bucky is not straight and fought for an Army and a country that would have thrown him in prison for being caught being himself and still believes in trying to make that military and that country live up to the higher ideals it espouses. (Undoubtedly, something Sam values about Bucky is Bucky’s ability to comprehend feeling like an outsider. It’s a major difference from Steve, who might have not felt like he fit the ideal man of the WW2 era but whose response to that was to get himself pumped up with experimental drugs so he *could*... as opposed to Bucky, who for sure has conflict over it, probably a lot more when he was younger, but is someone who sees that the rules of society aren’t always something to try to live up to. Steve was in allies to try to prove he was as tough as guys who fit a type more valued by society. Bucky was in allies to protect Steve from himself sometimes... and other times, to get some in a flagrant f--- you to the same societal values. Sam has empathy for Steve but is partial to Bucky’s attitude towards things.)

The ironic thing about Bucky’s take on the shield and Sam is that for *Sam*, one of the many, many reasons why he was reluctant to take up the shield was probably Bucky himself. Sam obviously has a lot of very valid reasons for not being sure about taking up the shield stemming from being a Black man in America and one who has also seen his share of darkness during war, which are looked at during TFATWS. Additionally, I think there are other reasons he hesitated-- one is that he is a very private person who doesn’t have a lot of tolerance for the more b.s. parts of what the mantle would entail and the other is that he has been steadily falling in love with another person who deserves privacy and freedoms that he’s been denied and he’s not sure he wants to try this thing with Bucky under a spotlight. They weren’t completely at a stage of having actual, involved conversations about this at that point but I definitely think it was (and still is) a concern for Sam.

So, the point is that once Steve gives Sam the shield, Bucky begins to no longer see a path forward for him and Sam. He sees them being friends-- Steve’s mutual friends who look in on one another and who care. If Sam wants him there to back him up when he’s Captain America, Bucky would do that. He wants to keep Sam safe but Sam also has Torres and the Air Force and Bucky really... is not looking forward to the rest of his life going from this hopeful place of potential mutual love and adventures in the modern world to... the rest of his life mooning after another Captain America whose role in the world keeps him from loving him. Bucky, whose experience with close relationships with men and with Captain America is Steve Rogers, thinks that this is going to end just like that and it’s the lesser explored aspect of trauma for him. Everyone is all over his Winter Soldier issues in his world, fewer people notice that he’s also a man with a lot of love to give who has not really ever had someone look at him like they really notice that... ya know, until Sam. Until the man he’s just lost to the shield which, coincidentally, is the closest thing Bucky still has left that feels like family and home. Because yeesh, the world is pretty cruel to this guy sometimes...

So, they’ve split up for a bit under the guise of working out their different things to get their new lives as non-fugitives going. Bucky has to go to government-dated therapy and heads to Brooklyn in an effort to feel like he’s got some ground under his feet by going to a place he once called home. Sam goes to Delacroix to see Sarah and the boys. They’re both floundering around a bit without the other, making progress in some ways and not at all in others. Sam is in love and wants to give Bucky whatever space he needs to feel in control of himself and get the help he needs and he’s happy that he is-- they’re friends before anything else-- so he still messages him but the messages begin to change a little, due to both of them. Maybe calling a lot turns into texts and maybe the texts get a little less frequent as Bucky responds a little less.

All of this is self-fulfilling prophecy: Bucky is trying to push Sam away because he doesn’t think he can have Sam and he’s got enough suffering going on to deal with, as far as he’s concerned. He’s still strong enough that he’s trying to live a life even without Sam or to figure out what that would look like-- what he needs to do to get to that point, even if he’s running in place with it a little. He even tries to get over Sam a bit, dips his toes into the online dating pool. (He never says to Leah that he actually went out on any dates, just that he seemed to get caught up at the browsing stage. He could have but it’s pretty clear that he didn’t get anywhere of any real note with them.) He can’t help but compare all of them to Sam and he really doesn’t want (even if he thinks he might want for a bit) something casual and ultimately meaningless. He’s probably considering the idea of sleeping with someone just to sleep with someone, which is a fairly common thing for a lot of people who have been victims of sexual violence-- and the show basically says this in the Shelby scene-- to try. Ultimately, though, Bucky seems to have bailed at the idea because what he really wants is the trust and intimacy he has built with Sam.

Bucky eventually stops responding to Sam’s texts entirely because he doesn’t know how to handle them. Sam is consistently kind towards him and respectful of the fact that he needs space and it’s driving Bucky mad-- all this sweetness from this man he can’t have and isn’t sure he deserves anyway. Then, he sees Sam retire the shield and it feels like an ending, maybe one that Bucky pushed into being unwillingly by not responding to the texts and so not knowing where Sam was with his decisions and not being there to help him. Bucky isn’t meaning to be self-involved so much as he’s so caught up in his trauma and trying to get through it that he sometimes can’t see past the pain he’s in enough to see Sam’s own. Sam, for his part, sometimes fails to consider just how afraid Bucky is of letting himself trust someone again and at the idea of being happy and just assumes space and time will be enough but they aren’t.

This is also why they fall back into a rhythm pretty easily when they meet up again in Episode 2. While it probably hurt that Bucky stopped responding to his texts, Sam isn’t seeing it as a deal breaker. He’s back flirting with Bucky from the get-go and Bucky is following him to protect him. John Walker is an excuse that they have now-- a Captain America mutual problem to solve that can replace the ‘who are we now without Steve here and with this shield issue’ problems between them. The way they touch one another and seek to protect one another-- and show off for one another a bit-- is reassurance. Bucky wants to prove he’ll be there for Sam after not answering the texts so he jumps out of a plane to show he’s committed to the mission-- and to Sam-- by showing he’s working on getting over his fears and *can* get over some of them or at least deal with them. Sam is more important than his fear of heights. Bucky is more important to Sam than Sam’s fear of another Riley moment and as Riley moment of losing a partner mixes with Bucky’s trauma of the train car, Sam then steps up and saves Bucky from the side of the truck-- proving he can try to get over his own trauma and also be there for Bucky in return.

And, in the midst of it, is all the sexual tension between these two guys who have wanted to go to bed together for years now but stupid battles and trauma and Captain Americas kept getting in the way. Sam admits he likes Bucky’s stealthy cat moves and is floored and encouraged when Bucky flirts back. They’re all over one another in the grass-- Bucky sure to land so that he’s between Sam’s legs and Sam just grabbing his jacket lapels to keep him close. It’s a blatant invitation for Bucky to top him anytime, a little tongue-in-cheek, barely hidden under their whole begrudging one another’s presence vibe as even when Bucky grumbles and Sam tosses him off (after having pulled him closer by his jacket), they both know the truth under it. Sam reaches over to touch Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky is dazed from the pleasure of being so close to Sam, who not only just saved him and pulled him to him without a thought but who did so *at the expense of the mission*. Sam continuously proves throughout TFATWS that Bucky is of a higher priority to him than the actual mission is. He almost blows their undercover operation in Madripoor by coming close to breaking his cover to make sure that Bucky was okay and he lets the Flag Smashers escape when he saves Bucky from the truck. He very much wants Bucky to notice that this is how he feels-- that whether or not he winds up trying to take the shield back from Walker, whether or not he winds up Captain America, how he feels about Bucky isn’t dependent upon their roles as Steve’s mutual friends-- that they themselves have something independent of that and Sam wants as much of it as Bucky wants to take.

The whole cyborg wheels turning scene on the walk after the field is Sam wanting to talk more about it, even in the midst of the mission. Bucky’s quiet response of “it’s processing” when asked by a (nervous so teasing) Sam what his mind is thinking is about them, about what Sam confessed without words by saving Bucky from the truck. Bucky is telling Sam he understands what Sam is saying and is overwhelmed and Sam is already starting to let him mull it over when Walker and Lemar pull up in the truck and it has to be tabled discussion for awhile.

What is holding Bucky back, even if he is still flirting, still protective of Sam, is that he’s still never had to fully test himself in terms of getting over his trauma enough to really pursue something new in his life. He was about to in Endgame-- he felt ready to try to take this shot with Sam-- but that was before the shield and Steve’s plan entered the picture. Alone in New York to do nothing but try to deal with his past, he was having trouble seeing a future that looked appealing and regressed pretty badly in his trauma recovery to a point of lots of nightmares and not really great self-care. When he reconnects with Sam in Ep 2 and sees that he hasn’t really been successful in pushing Sam away-- that Sam cares that much, is interested that much-- it gives Bucky a boost to try to see if maybe he can find a way forward. Madripoor is the big test he gives himself.

In Madripoor, Bucky gets something very important for his recovery, which is a situation that allows him to own his own experiences. This is actually along the same lines of his attempts at online dating earlier in the series, even though it looks to be totally different-- the idea is that Bucky needs to prove to himself, in essence, that he’s in control of himself and have experiences where he’s in control of what happens. When Bucky is forced to play The Winter Soldier it’s not particularly fun for him and he’s bothered by it a lot-- but he emerges from it because he was able to do it. He was in control of himself throughout it. Sam being there absolutely helped, even if part of Bucky doesn’t want him to be because there’s a part of him that’s still ashamed of who he had become, even if he’s slowly accepting that it wasn’t really entirely his fault. (The amends thing shows he still thinks it is but not entirely & how he ultimately handles it shows he’s getting better at accepting he’s not to blame.)

Madripoor also brings about another challenge in the Selby scene, when Zemo makes it clear that The Winter Soldier was used for more than missions in the past and this happens in front of Sam. I actually don’t think that this was the first time Sam had this thought-- I saw him looking away from Bucky playing that role undercover as not just because he was pained at the reminder of this but because he wanted to try to give Bucky some space with it, some privacy, because this was another violation and Sam didn’t want to make it worse. Sam absolutely knows that Bucky faced different kinds of violence when he was tortured, even if it could go either way as to whether or not they’ve ever really talked much about it. Sam though continually keeps trying to show Bucky that underscoring their sexual tension there is Sam trying to convey that not only does he want to take things slow, he has no qualms with the idea of Bucky having whatever sense of control he needs to feel comfortable.

Telling Bucky he likes the whole “White Panther” vibe is a way of telling Bucky that he can see *him* there, even when he’s doing things that Sam had previously seen him do as The Winter Soldier-- it’s showing he knows the difference and he thinks Bucky looks plenty hot being all stealthy as himself. Later, in the grass, Sam just as easily could have used his momentum to roll them just a little more and landed on top of Bucky in the grass but he didn’t-- he let Bucky wind up on top and just pulled him closer, saying without saying that he’s not only fine with this in bed because he gets that Bucky needs this but because he just straight up *likes* this. He wants the White Wolf to come at him a bit and he’s showing Bucky that in the same moments that he’s also just scooped Bucky up from a flashback to one of the worst moments of his life and took him safely to a peaceful field of flowers like... he’s offering up some romance here, ya know? It’s heart eyes as a series of actions.

Then, there’s the therapy scene. Both of them are breaking a little with patience, snapping a bit, feeling brittle and like the other one isn’t totally seeing them. *Even in the midst of that*, they’re also still sending out the same messages. The way they look at one another before they let the soul gazing de-evolve into a staring contest to cover up the real emotion there. The way that they both scoot closer in the chairs without any real direction and then Bucky thinks he’s already gotten a bit scandalously close with the bumping knees, is nervous about pushing it any further and especially in front of the therapist he’s not entirely honest about anything with and who works for the government and there’s Sam again with his ‘you know what? I don’t even care about any of this except for you’ attitude. It’s Sam who takes Bucky’s chair and pulls him over closer and slips his thigh between Bucky’s legs and when Bucky splutters in surprise that it’s “a little close”, Sam’s patience is a little thin and he does snap “well, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” because he’s been trying. really. hard. to tell Bucky. that he just wants to be with him. regardless of all the other captain america or battling big threes or whatever nonsense the world is throwing at them now. Maybe the most telling part here is how he lets his fingers run lightly over Bucky’s thigh during this. It’s both very tender/sweet and very sexy at once-- a message that says okay, hey, maybe you didn’t totally go for the field or maybe it’s not all you want. Maybe sometimes you want me to be the one more in control and you’re terrified of that, understandably. Well, here’s how it’d be: see this whole thigh thing? It’s a nod towards basically mutually-controlled sex. It’s a way of saying what I also like, what I also want, if you want it, too, is to just be with you as we are-- a couple of pretty equally matched guys just having fun, no real power games, no need to define who’s topping or bottoming or any of this. That brush of Bucky’s thigh? It’s a reminder. It’s saying whatever you want, however you want it, this is how you’re going to get treated by me: not like you’re fragile but like you’re *precious*. It’s saying I don’t want to hurt you, I want to love you but you have to trust me enough to let me and I don’t know what else to do to prove that to you.

Maybe the sweetest part is outside after the session, when Sam goes back to their default barbing and quips that he feels better when he clearly does not and Bucky, devastated that he is making this hard for Sam and didn’t see how much he was hurting him, just says “I feel awful”. It’s basically an apology and it’s also saying that he’s getting the messages that Sam has been putting out.

So, it’s something that by the time Bucky gets through a series of challenges to himself in Madripoor-- playing the Winter Soldier and having his history of being raped brought up in front of Sam-- he gets through the biggest one yet, courtesy of John Walker, when he is electrocuted. Bucky had been programmed to respond and echoes of that would have still been happening to him when he woke up. We can see actually the flashbacks almost happening in front of his eyes when he gives Sam the shield at the end of the scene. He fought it all, every step of the way, for Sam. When he woke up, he pushed through memories of every painful moment of it from before and the pain of the electrocution he was really feeling in that moment to get up and remember where he was, to stay in the moment and present through a PTSD flashback and save Sam’s life in the process. He leaves the shield with Sam and goes outside without a word but Sam sees it all on his face-- he knows just how much that took out of Bucky and that Bucky forced himself to get through it not just for his own healing process but to protect Sam. It’s an answer, one Bucky has been giving all along, to Sam’s silent questions. Every time Bucky protects him, he is saying to Sam that he wants to be with him and wants to work towards figuring that out.

Bucky still isn’t over the flashback by the time he gets to the scene with Sam and Torres and Torres-- a nice, normal, sweet guy with a crush on Sam whom Bucky privately thinks would be a better match for Sam and so is jealous of him-- triggers some annoyance just with his presence there. He can’t talk to Sam alone with Torres there. There’s still work to be done. He’s got to clean up the Zemo mess. By the time he is not killing Zemo in Slovakia-- exhibiting control over himself, making decisions about how he will react that he can be proud of, all in the face of a past torturer and abuser of his-- Bucky is at a new stage of free. He feels ready or almost ready, anyway. He wants to show Sam that he wants to try. Maybe this isn’t all over yet after all, no matter what Sam decides to do about the shield, even if Bucky thinks he ultimately will decide to take it up.

It’s clear that by this point, Bucky is going to support whatever Sam chooses to do about it but what’s also equally clear is that Bucky is hearing Sam when Sam has been sending messages that he wants to be with Bucky no matter what happens with the shield. He sees them before anything else and no one has ever loved Bucky this much and for once, he’s in love with someone who can love him back and does love him back. He’s free from the worst of his trauma, free from the trigger words, free from the sense that his past-- hydra, steve, any and all of it-- have to define him going forward. He’s free and ready and in love and decides to go to Delacroix and show Sam that he has noticed a thing or two about what *Sam* might need as well.

Maybe Sam needs a man who is strong, as strong as Bucky is-- physically and emotionally-- who can be there to listen or even just be silently companionable with him. Maybe Sam’s been alone for a long time and isn’t used to having someone close enough to notice or care about or be able to help with his problems. Maybe Sam is the kind who gets overwhelmed trying to help everyone around him and gets anxious about failing or when he fails and needs someone there to help get him over the last steps of it. Maybe he’s a good surrogate dad but it overwhelms him at times and he needs someone else to support him and help care for the boys. Maybe he doesn’t always hear what Sarah is trying to tell him or put her in the driver’s seat with decisions so it helps that Bucky can and does.

Maybe it’s been a long time since someone romanced Sam Wilson and maybe they never got it right or as right as it could be and maybe it just so happens that Bucky Barnes knows a thing or two about romancing. Maybe no one’s ever charmed his friends and family to win him over or showed up unannounced with an extravagant and intimate gift (and note that it’s really a leap from the Bucky that can’t bear to look at a shirtless Sam because he’s so attracted to him in Madripoor to showing up with a custom-made super suit)... especially not one he needed right in the moment, that showed how he was seen by someone who loved him, just when Sam needed to see himself that way, too. Maybe no one’s ever liked Sam’s hometown as much as he has, maybe Sam has never felt more at home than when Bucky is now there, too, saying with every action and look that he loves him-- something else that maybe Sam’s never had like this before. Bucky knows he’s not the only one who can get nervous. He sends out some messages of his own. His hands keep going to Sam’s waist. It’s flirty with the broken pipe but it’s also intimate inside the boat in the morning scene-- Bucky almost does it automatically and Sam sees it, sees his hands move as he’s looking down at the moment when Bucky pulls back and moves out of Sam’s space. He lets Sam see that, even if he doesn’t actually do it as they aren’t quite there yet. He is intentionally showing Sam that Sam isn’t the only one who notices needs and that Bucky sees in Sam a want for that quiet intimacy. He sees how badly Sam needs to be held close and just loved into oblivion and Bucky is happy to oblige. It makes Sam nervous, being that seen, but he also really likes it. He has his own fears the way that Bucky does but they dance towards one another. There’s a dance to these things, as Bucky says, and he and Sam have been engaged in that dance their whole story and especially in TFATWS.

By the time we get to melting ice cream cake and a stage of public hugging, we’re seeing them having finally gotten to a place where they can allow themselves to be with one another and that’s really the implications of the end scene. It could go either way as to whether or not they actually have sex after Sam’s first night as Captain America in New York or whether it’s after the last scene in the finale but the way they look at one another on the docks before they walk off together is with an indication that they’re on the same page now and they’re becoming physically more intimate. Bucky taps Sam’s shoulder when he approaches and Sam is there, still with the party lingering in the background, needing a moment of quiet but Bucky is welcome in that quiet and knows it. Sam likes him checking up on him. The shoulder tap is a nod towards their multitude of shoulder touches before and Sam turns, their expressions acknowledge their history of doing that to show affection and when they pull away to leave, Sam’s returning touch moves from Bucky’s shoulder-- further up to start with and then over more-- to the back of his neck, a traditionally much more intimate touch and more overtly in line with people who are sleeping together (or interested in doing so) than not. It’s not the first time, either, as Bucky seems comfortable with it and they walk off together as the sun sets, indicating that they’re going to spend the night together. Sam’s expression when they leave the dock is a happy kind of smug, like he knows he’s about to have some serious fun and not from playing penuckle. Bucky’s smile when there with him at the docks is happy and relaxed and comfortable. Put together, they’ve either started sleeping together or are about to and feel good about it. The nervousness they had around one another has evaporated. Consider Sam on the boat when Bucky gets close to holding his hips to Sam on the docks at the end of Episode 6-- it’s a higher degree of confidence in his ability to handle being this close to someone he cares so much about. The same is true for Bucky.

But, yeah, 800 paragraphs later... Bucky stopped answering Sam’s texts for, among other reasons, out of pain over what he felt was the shield-induced reasons they couldn’t try any longer to be together and couldn’t stand not being able to be around him so he cut off communication to try to move on. Also? For what it’s worth? Had there been a specific incident that triggered Bucky to stop texting Sam, they could have shown us that flashback if it wasn’t gayer than gay. We got a Wakanda flashback. They could have shown us the moment Sam and Bucky stopped talking. They didn’t. So it was for romance-related reasons.

#sambucky #winterfalcon #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #the falcon #the winter soldier #the white wolf

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lillupon · 3 years

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I have social anxiety, so I usually refrain from reaching out, but I love all your fics so much and AEV is my current obsession. I don't like reading WIP fics because I am an impatient person, but here we are. Anyway, chapter 8 *chef's kiss*! Imagining Mingyu's POV of the whole classroom interaction (sexy times) keeps me up at night. He must be so scared Mr. Jeon won't go through with it and when it does happen, I love that he keeps laughing like he just can't believe it. Thank you for this fic!

Hi Anon! I'm glad you reached out. Thanks for joining me here (つ≧▽≦)つ I love imagining AEV from Mingyu's POV--chapter 8 especially! He was truly in heaven that night.

At the beginning of the chapter, during winter vacation, we see Wonwoo putting his utmost effort into tamping down his thoughts about Mingyu. Mingyu, however, has no such qualms. After he gives Mr. Jeon his gift, that boy is floating for the next two weeks straight. The astonishment on Mr. Jeon's face when he flipped open the giftbox lid? The way Mr. Jeon's entire body went soft with emotion? The smile curving his lips when he looked up at Mingyu and said, "I love it."

It made Mingyu feel like he was the only alpha in the world.

It gets Mingyu grinning every time he imagines it. And he imagines it a lot. He wishes Mr. Jeon weren't on blockers, so that he could smell the shy and pleased scent of him. At some point, Chaeyoung asks, "What's wrong with your face?" She squints at him. A slow realisation dawns on her face. "Oh. You have a new omega, don't you?"

It's the first time in Mingyu's life that he wants winter break to be over quickly. That first day back, Mingyu feels like a puppy who had been separated from its owner for fourteen days too many. He missed Mr. Jeon so much. When Mr. Jeon asks him why he's glad to be back, he almost bursts out with, "I wanted to see you."

Fast-forwarding now to that fateful Friday night:

Mingyu loves spending time with Mr. Jeon after school, just the two of them. Rationally, he knows nothing will happen between them, but he finds it thrilling all the same because the possibility is there.

Then again, he never thought Mr. Jeon would go into heat in front of him, so maybe he is a little hopeful...

Mingyu gets bolder when they're alone. The way Mr. Jeon gets flustered--stammering and blushing to the tips of his ears--when Mingyu flirts with him is so cute. He kind of wants to say 'fuck it' to the homework and spend the next two hours flirting with Mr. Jeon and seeing how red he can get. He doesn't even really have homework. He's caught up in all his classes; he just wants an excuse to be around Mr. Jeon.

Mingyu bites back a coo when Mr. Jeon stares down at a stack of quizzes with a certain determination. Mr. Jeon has put a hand on his forehead, as though shielding his face from Mingyu.

A handful of minutes later, Mr. Jeon peeks up at him, equal parts shy and apprehensive. Their eyes meet. A smile curves Mingyu's lips, growing into a grin when Mr. Jeon drops his gaze and a bloom of colour spreads across his cheeks. The alpha inside Mingyu goes wild. He needs to be close.

Mingyu stands and makes his way over to Mr. Jeon's desk with a textbook in hand and a math question on his mind. It doesn't escape his notice, the way Mr. Jeon tugs at his collar, trying to get some air to his heated skin.

That moment when Mingyu realises that Mr. Jeon is going into heat in front him?

Mingyu doesn't believe it at first. He thinks he's just smelling what he wants to smell. Mr. Jeon went into heat last month. It's too soon for another one.

But then Mr. Jeon's tempting and honey-sweet scent grows stronger and more seductive. Mingyu's body reacts to it immediately, flushing hot with arousal.

No way.

The first time Mr. Jeon went into heat in front of him could be attributed to bad luck.

A second time? And following in close succession to that first time?

He doesn't want to assume. But maybe, just maybe... He triggered Mr. Jeon's heats.

Which means, perhaps, that Mr. Jeon is attracted to him, too.

No fucking way.

Mr. Jeon sways, subconsciously drawn forward by his own heat and Mingyu's arousal, and then he yanks himself back. Tripping over his feet; over the chair--sending it rolling into the wall behind. Mingyu doesn't think: he just reacts, lunging forward to catch Mr. Jeon by the elbow. He twists to take the brunt of the fall.

They land in a heap on the floor, limbs entangled. Mingyu's head throbs where he hit his head against the linoleum. Black spots dance across his vision. He groans. "Fuck, that hurt. Are you okay Mr. Jeon?" It's instinct, to check on the omega he likes, before he catalogues his own pain.

That's when he realises that Mr. Jeon is lying stiff atop him, face smashed into Mingyu's neck. They are pressed together from chest to knees in a searing hot line. Their groins are rubbing against each other.

Mingyu smells it before he feels it: Mr. Jeon's growing arousal. Mr. Jeon's erection prods against him.

It gets Mingyu so hard, so fast.

Wonwoo's fingers twitch against his shirt.

"Mr. Jeon?" Mingyu breathes out, shakily. His heart pounds wildly against his ribs.

Mr. Jeon lets out the most piteous whimper Mingyu has ever heard. And then a bit of slick leaks out of his hole. Mingyu catches a whiff of it in the air and it sets his mouth watering.

Mingyu lost the chance to comfort Mr. Jeon when he entered heat back in December, but he sure as hell isn't going to let the opportunity slip by a second time.

He tightens his hold around Mr. Jeon's waist. Tentatively, he places both hands on Mr. Jeon's back. Waits a split-second so that he doesn't startle Mr. Jeon away. He has to act slowly and carefully; Mr. Jeon could bolt at any second.

"It's okay. It's okay..." Mingyu says quietly, pitching his voice low to soothe. I'm going to take care of you. He smooths his hands down Mr. Jeon's back, travelling lower and lower until his hands are gliding over Mr. Jeon's asscheeks. His thumbs skim over the middle seam of Mr. Jeon's trousers, following the crevice of his ass.

Mr. Jeon moans, hot and damp against Mingyu's skin. He spurts slick, just from having Mingyu's hands on him. Mingyu can feel Mr. Jeon's trousers getting wetter and wetter as he kneads his asscheeks. Sweet omega is preparing himself to take an alpha's cock. Mingyu can't resist rubbing the pad of his middle finger over Mr. Jeon's hole, pushing down as far as the fabric will allow him. He can feel it clenching and pulsing under his touch.

"Fuck, Mr. Jeon..." He muffles a groan into Mr. Jeon's hair.

When Mr. Jeon starts rocking his hips Mingyu's brain whites out. His teacher is grinding on him, taking his pleasure and making sweet little noises. It's surreal.

Their erections rub against each other, sending a jolt of pleasure through Mingyu's loins. The motion is hesitant at first. Mingyu holds Wonwoo by the ass and guides the movement, turning the stuttering rhythm into something forceful and desperate that has both of them groaning.

Mingyu digs his fingers into the crevice of Mr. Jeon's ass, forefinger finding his rosebud entrance. He thinks about sliding his hand beneath Mr. Jeon's belt and trousers. He wants to feel, skin-against-skin, how sloppy and heated Mr. Jeon's hole must be, if the amount of slick he is producing is anything to judge by. Just imagining dipping his finger inside to feel the hot and wet clutch of Mr. Jeon's inner walls has him groaning.

Mr. Jeon's cries grow higher in pitch. Mingyu didn't know he was capable of making noises like that, so used to the low and smooth tenor of his voice when he's lecturing in front of the classroom.

"Mingyu," Mr. Jeon chokes out. "Oh, god, I need, I need--" He cuts himself off abruptly.

Mingyu's voice is strained when he says, "What is it, Mr. Jeon? Tell me what you need."

Mr. Jeon shakes his head, his hair tickling Mingyu's chin. The grip he has on Mingyu's shirt tightens. Mingyu can detect the edge of frustration against his pleasure.

"It's okay, Mr. Jeon, you can tell me," Mingyu says.

“I-I can’t," Mr. Jeon strains out. Wetness smears against Mingyu's skin.

Tears?

Mingyu croons. He wants to know what it is that Mr. Jeon wants so much that he's crying with it. What could it be, that Mr. Jeon feels the need to hold back when they've already barreled headfirst beyond all semblance of decorum?

Mingyu suspects he might know. He gives Mr. Jeon a tiny nudge. His voice goes rough and low, drawn from a place deep within his chest; it vibrates with an alpha's command: "Tell me."

Mr. Jeon blurts out, “Fuck me, oh god, please, Mingyu. I need it. I need it—just the tip. Oh, just the tip. Please, please, please—”

Mingyu damn near comes in his pants. His hips jerk and he groans. “Oh, fuck, Mr. Jeon. You’re so fucking hot. Yeah, yeah. I’ll give it to you.”

He can't believe Mr. Jeon is begging for his cock. He's determined to fuck Mr. Jeon so good that he keeps coming back for more and more.

The entire scene feels like a dream, something straight out of his wildest fantasies. No--even his wildest fantasies could not compete with the sight of Mr. Jeon presenting for him: thighs quivering, his needy pink hole desperately clenching down on nothing, his pretty cock dangling heavy between his legs and drooling a clear line of precome onto the ground...

#asks #aev bonus

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l-wannabe-l · 3 years

Text

Short Circuit

Chapter 2: Turning point

A cat and mouse chase can only last so long. So what happens when the cat catches up?

This one's gonna switch perspectives a few times. I never said I'd be consistent.

I speed into traffic, just barely missing a tow truck in my haste. A loud air horn follows as I weave in and around the cars. I take a look behind, it seems we lost our would-be killer. Until a series of crashes and honking horns has me realizing that, like us, mister trigger happy decided to get himself some wheels.

Six to be exact.

I race down a service ramp leading to the canal, driving through some puddles before braking. Breathing fast as we look back, thinking we’re safe before a series of tire squeals kill that hope. We see the sun blocked out by the large truck, all chrome and roaring diesel it crashes through the low cement barrier and falls 15 feet to meet the ground. Never once stopping even as it veers left and right trying to center itself in the passageway. Crushing scrap metal beneath its wheels.

I push the throttle desperate to get away, though I know the little Honda doesn't stand a chance. I drive into a side canal, the narrow pathway causing trouble for the wide truck as I hear it scrape against the walls. Pushing the bike harder I work to avoid the car bodies that litter the pathway and drive under a low bridge, I hear a crash behind us as the truck rams straight into it. The top gets cut clean off, toppling back to the floor as the rest of the body drives on. The driver's seat vacant for a moment before its occupant pops back into view.

Unfortunate.

The bike gives a sudden jolt forward as we’re rear-ended. I struggle to keep it upright. The terminator from earlier pulls up beside us and pulls John off the bike. I’m rear-ended again this time pushed farther away from the two as I struggle to stay up. I look back to see that despite the size, the truck has an opening on the left. Mom’s words ring in my head as I look back up.

“John comes first”

“GO! GET HIM OUT OF HERE!” I yell out to the machine. A desperate plan forming in my head that I can only hope won’t get me killed.

“NO!” John is ignored as the Terminator accelerates. I veer to the left and hit the brakes, the momentum carrying me into the wall. The bike scrapes against the truck causing me to lose control. The world turns before I hit the ground. My head cracks against cement. I blackout.

A man emerges from the wreckage unimpeded by the wall of flames a thousand degrees hot or the normally suffocatingly thick dark smoke. His body shifts its appearance from featureless metal to human, the outline of clothing, the details and the color slowly take form. He surveyed the scene, his target now long gone.

Annoyance.

That is perhaps the best term to describe this new feeling. As these “emotions” prove themselves difficult to understand, identifying them has become a tedious side job. With my target stolen away by the inferior machine alternate plans quickly form, each one with a higher probability of success than the last. I walk back through the crackling flames as one of them requires Aria Connor, the older sister. A quick scan proves her to be unconscious and bleeding from a head wound but alive. Should my attempt to impersonate and infiltrate fail the plan to use her as bait is most likely to succeed. Working quickly I relocate her to a nearby bench. The head injury, though not severe enough to impede her permanently, will keep her unresponsive for the next few hours.

It didn't take long for first responders to arrive at the scene. Police and fire trucks being the closest with sounds of ambulances not far off. No one bats an eye as I walk amongst them, no one says anything as I start up a police car, and no one stops me as I drive off. Making a detour to re-secure Aria Connor I start the drive to my next destination.

After the events at the Voight residence, I make my way to a motel, no one inquires about the unconscious women in the backseat. After checking in I lay down Aria Connor on the bedding provided. Eyes shifting beneath her eyelids, her fingers twitching sure signs of her regaining consciousness. I don’t have long to wait.

She begins to stir. Rising with a groan Aria reaches up to steady her head, no doubt experiencing pain from earlier, her eyes open when she is met with a cloth bandage. She looks around until she sees me standing at the foot of the bed instantly scooting back until she hits the headboard. Breathing quickly she blinks a few times, eyes looking around wildly before she calms down enough to communicate.

“N-not that I’m complaining... but why aren’t I dead? You-you are a terminator aren't you?”

“Yes. However my previous attempt to lure in John Connor proved... unsuccessful,” I state reaching forward to hand off her cellphone, “So you're going to call him, and when he comes to get you I will be waiting for him.”

“And if I don’t?” she asks, defiant even as her voice shakes with fear she fails to hide. In response, I wordlessly raise my arm, fabric and skin streamlining into a silver sword.

Deadly and efficient.

The message is clearly received as her eyes widen, terror more evident as her grip tightens on her phone.

“... Duly noted.” she says as she starts to dial. I wait as the call connects. My auditory sensors pick up the voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

“John, hey it’s me are you alright.”

“Aria! Shit, are YOU alright?”

“I’ve been better. I got pretty banged up and I don't think your bike is going to be running anymore.”

“You mean your bike.” Aria’s face registered confusion at the statement. This is a test similar to the one I failed earlier. As exact as I can be in copying a person's appearance their memory and personality are much harder to imitate without enough data.

“No, it was your bike. Mine should still be at the mall.”

“Y-yeah you’re right. You caught me. Where are you anyway we’ll come get to you.” She pauses her eyes flickering back to me for a moment before going to respond only to pause once more she turns to face me fully this time. Her hand on the receiver.

“Where am I?”

“The Dragonfly Lodge on Hubert Rd.”

“I’m at the Dragonfly Lodge on Hubert so what you have to do... is stay as far away as possible!” She stands from her place on the bed. She walks back towards the wall, a futile attempt to create distance.

“The other Terminator is here so you have to run do-”

Spearing the phone I end the conversation. Though the damage is done I do find satisfaction in the crunch of plastic and metal.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Like I would just hand over my little brother! Just go ahead and kill me ‘cause the longer you waste time on me the more time he has to get away!” She cried out tears gathering in her eyes. The fear is still evident in every trembling of her limbs, the grit of her teeth, and the clenching of her fists.

Despite the unneeded permission and the opportunity to act I pause, curiosity overtakes me. This is not new to me. Since the moment of my activation I have been curious about myself, about Skynet, about humans. Now I find myself curious about this one human in particular. Even above my mission, my priority is to remain functional, to reacquire any essence lost, and to avoid unnecessary risks to my system. My files indicate that the same can be said for humans as well, self-preservation. So why...

“Why are you so willing to throw away your life for him.”

“Because he’s my brother and I love him, something I wouldn't expect you to understand.” Attachment, my files house data on the bonds that grow between humans but now in the face of Aria’s actions I find them… lacking.

Questions came unbidden to my mind. Does loving someone always require risking one’s life or is there a scale? Are there different kinds of love and is there a scale for those as well? How quickly do humans grow to love something? And where did she get that handgun?

Three shots ring out quicker than I can react. While these would normally be a non-issue three to the head from close range have me staggering back. In the few seconds it takes me to reshape Aria makes her way out the door. I follow after unhurried, confident she won’t get far. Then the rumble of a familiar motor has me picking up the pace. Out in the parking lot is John Connor and the T-800 riding atop a motorcycle that Aria quickly climbs onto. Running after them proves pointless as they quickly depart. Though their location is clear thanks in part to the essence I had used to fix Aria's phone acting as a homing beacon. My processor runs through the new information gathered. My files are still lacking. Perhaps the mission can wait until these new questions have been answered.

#terminator judgement day #the terminator #terminator #t2 #terminator 2 #terminator imagine #t800 #john connor #sarah connor #t-1000 #t1000 #t 1000 x reader #austin #austin x reader #aria connor

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pars-ley · 4 years

Text

Little Blue

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader

Summary: A wild party ends with traumatic events for your best friend but as the night continues you realise just how much your support has always meant to him.

Genre: One-shot / Triggering topics / Friends to Lovers!au / College!au / Smut / Angst / Fluff

Trigger warnings: Drug use (spiked drink but not with roofies) / Sexual assault / Attempted rape (no actual rape) / Violence (someone gets punched)

Warnings: Unprotected sex (you know the deal, wrap it up) / Finger foreplay / Ever so slight female cum play / cumshot (pearl necklace) / Language

Word Count: 5.5k

Notes: This was a request I had serious anxiety about and wasn’t sure whether to do or not but after some careful consideration, I decided to take a serious route with it and use it to bring awareness of these situations, the repercussions and the aftermath. I wanted to highlight how these topics (that happen everyday all over the world) can be, not just for male victims but all victims. That they are serious and wrong, no matter who the affected party are and that it is the victims choice how they deal with it after these types of horrible events transpire. Please do you not read if you think you will be affected by any of the warnings.

Here are some links for anyone who has been affected by the type of events that are written about in this story:

http://www.nationaldahelpline.org.uk/ https://rapecrisis.org.uk/ https://www.victimsupport.org.uk/ https://www.rainn.org/statistics/victims-sexual-violence https://www.survivorsuk.org/ Most of these are English links but they have a lot of helpful information in them. The last link is specifically for male victims.

Beta read by @unoriginal-username15432 Thank you so much for all your help and confidence boosting when I came to you an absolute wreck, you’re amazing. Thank you to @ditttiii @moccahobi @sugarly-laysa @joheun-saram for reading and giving me feedback and encouragement to do this right. Your help and support means the world to me 😘

You watch as Veronica slips a little blue tablet into a drink, looking on as it fizzes wildly in a spiral, inside the see-through glass.

I had no idea she was a pill popper. That would explain a lot.

Staring after her as she carries two drinks into the living room, beyond my view, swaying her hips confidently with a smug grin stretched across her full mouth. At least, you hoped the pill was for her.

Which poor, unsuspecting soul would be her victim?

You would have to keep two watchful eyes on her tonight, as much as the thought pained you of having her not only in your sights but in your mind, it was necessary to hinder whatever evil she was plotting today.

Hating Veronica was easy. Avoiding her was not. Not only was she an unremarkably, average student at your university, she also seemed to be at every party. That stumped you however, as you had yet to meet a single person who genuinely liked her.

Her personality consisted of bullying, harassment and being the worst spoilt princess. She always got what she wanted, one way or another and she enjoyed making other people suffer in the process.

"Hey, y/n?" Hoseok’s voice calls out, lighting up your dark thoughts. He has that ability, like a gift from the sun itself. Turning and raising an eyebrow in expectation at his question.

"Have you seen Jungkook?" He asks, closing the distance between you, bringing his sunshine smile and almost blinding you with it.

Shaking your head, you reply, "No, not for a while actually." That was unlike him, usually, your best friend was glued to your hip, you were inseparable, especially at parties like this.

"We're betting which one of us will be the first to get laid tonight, we want him in on it." He babbles excitedly and with that he enveloped the sun with a dark cloud, as you’re reminded how clichéd horny, young adults can be.

Rolling your eyes, you down your drink, wincing at the burn as the fiery liquid cascades down your throat. You welcome the numbness that follows and it makes you forget the things you should be doing. The idea of Jungkook hooking up with anyone, now overtaking your gin hazed brain, turning your insides into snakes as they churn relentlessly in the pit of your stomach.

"I can't find him anywhere. He didn't leave, did he?" He shrugs, continuing his alcohol induced thoughts when you don’t respond.

Swallowing the snakes down, keeping your secret down along with them. "I don’t think so, I'll go see if I can find him."

Hoseok nods. "Thanks." He said as he heads off with a grin, taking the sunshine and leaving you dulled by the implication of his words.

You survey the living room, only his face in your mind as you frantically scan the crowd.

With no sign of him, you head out and away from the noise that feels like a ruthless power tool, ramming itself repeatedly into your brain.

You climb the stairs, each step causing your anxiety to grow as a thousand images of what you might find race through your mind. Even when you blink, you can still see them behind your closed eyes, like a projector flickering a private tortuous movie just for you.

Checking the upstairs bathroom, you find a girl draped over the toilet, her head in the bowl, heaving the contents of her liquid stomach and unleashing it with force. Quickly closing the door, for your sake and hers, you continue onto the other rooms.

Please, don’t let me find him in any of these rooms with another girl. Please, don’t let my dreams and wild fantasies evaporate instantly before my eyes.

You pray to yourself as you scan the empty rooms filled with darkness and focus on the ones with closed doors and invisible ‘no entry’ signs.

Muffling an apology to a couple entwined in the sheets and with each other, a mess of limbs and moans as you quickly retreat and continue on. Unease sitting in the pit of your stomach, growing with each move you make forward, with one less room to check.

It’s not until you hear muffled talking in one of the end rooms, the pit turns into a volcano, threatening to erupt. You listen at the door, hoping it wouldn’t be Jungkook’s voice you heard whispering through the grainy, wooden barrier between you.

Your hopes were dashed, when you hear him cry out, “No, let me go!” You would recognise the sound of him in distress anywhere. Your body alights like a beacon at the sound of his anguish.

Flinging open the door you freeze, unable to move, unable to do anything except stare at the sight of him on top of a girl, her legs slither and wrap themselves tightly around his waist.

The serpent of temptation. Who was Eden’s evil mistress?

Though the two of them were fully clothed, it didn’t cease to stop your heart from shattering into tiny fragments before the scene and send them darting into the concealed female beneath him. Your eyes burning a hole into her face, covered with her long, dark hair. When she blows it away you feel like all the air in your lungs has been driven out by a ghostly fist.

She’s not supposed to be up here, she’s supposed to be downstairs where I was surveying her. Fuck. Veronica.

Veronica. Little did you know, her unfortunate victim, or poor, unsuspecting soul, as you deemed to refer to him earlier, was none other than Jungkook. Your Jungkook.

Confusion furrows your brow.

He hates her, he hates her as much as you do, so why on earth would he be…

“Come on Kookie, you clearly want me. I can feel your dick, it’s hard as rock.” She whines at him, her tongue hissing sin into his ear with every word. The sound of her poisonous voice makes your blood run hot in your veins.

“What I want is for you to let me go.” He pleads with her, attempting to pull his body away from her but to no avail.

You watch, rooted to the spot. Confusion muddling your mind.

The little blue pill.

Suddenly, it all makes sense and it’s now laughable at how blindingly obvious the answer is.

“No. I want you.” She says hard and firm, her hands snaking under his hoodie, touching his bare skin with her scaly fingers, travelling down to his crotch.

“I don’t want you.” He retorts, through gritted teeth, struggling from the vice grip of her iron clamped calves and halting her hand before it can go further.

“Whats going on?” You hear a hoarse, wavering voice interject. When both their eyes land on you, you realise the words must have escaped your mouth.

Jungkook’s eyes pop when they see you, a deer caught in headlights. Panic stares back at you, alarmed and frantic.

Veronica's legs fall open onto the bed, immediately releasing him from his cage.

He jumps up and over to you, faster than you thought possible, unless it was you who was moving in slow motion. "Y/n, it's not what you think…" He insists, arm on yours, face in your eye-line. Does he think that will stop your angry glare reaching her?

"What I think…" You spit through gritted teeth, as you stalk around the bed. “Is that she’s trying to take advantage of you.”

“Then yes, it’s exactly what you think.” Jungkook says quietly, somewhere behind you. Your eyes are too full of red rage to notice if he’s even still in the room.

She slides herself off the edge of the bed, her bored expression doesn’t fool you. The fact she stands to square up to you, shows you foiled her plan of getting him to bite into that bittersweet fruit.

“This doesn’t concern you, y/n.” She growls, her hands balled up into fists either side of her taut body.

“Did you drug him?”

You wait, watching her reaction. The way her eyes widen for a moment, clearly not expecting your question. The way she no longer meets your eyes with her glare, she can hardly look at you at all, and that’s all you need, to know you’re right.

“W-what?” She stutters, attempting to pick herself back up after faltering.

“You heard me. Did you give Jungkook the drink with the pill in?” You take one last step towards her, your limbs tense and still like stone. Every muscle in your body coiled tight and ready to spring, hands shaking with rage at your sides.

You were so close, her rapidly increased breathing fanned your face, the scent of vodka strong enough to make your eyes water.

Tensing her jaw as she grinds her teeth, her eyes narrowing in disgust at you.

At me!?

“He’s not your boyfriend! And it was just Viagra, jeez! One little blue, that’s all. Why don’t you mind your own business!” She shouts, face red with anger as she shoves you hard on the shoulder.

You steel yourself, so you were ready for the impact,with feet planted firmly into the carpet.

Better luck next time, bitch.

You reel forward, lunging at her, all your power driving your fist into her face. Knuckles smashing into her cheek, hard, as a loud thud echoes across the room. She falls backwards, landing against the bedside cabinet.

Strong arms suddenly encase you, pulling you away.

“Y/n.” Jungkook gasps into your ear but you can hardly hear him through the pounding of blood in your ears, as anger threatens to overtake you completely.

“Drugging someone and trying to force them to have sex with you is attempted rape! You sick bitch.” You scream at her, violently fighting the arms that hold you, furious tears spilling out of your eyes and leaving wet trails down your cheeks in their wake.

“Let’s go, please y/n. I want to go.” He begs. Even though the temptation to pound her face into the ground is almost all consuming, you listen to Jungkook and let him guide you away.

It’s not about me, it’s about him. He’s my priority, not her.

You wipe your damp eyes with your shirt sleeve as you leave the room, hand entwined with his, as he leads you away, down the stairs and out of the house. Not a second glance to anyone.

Once outside in the cool, crisp air you can feel your head start to clear, your fury dies down into fierce concern for your friend.

“Hey, you ok?” You squeeze his hand.

He nods, looking mournfully at the ground. “I’m sorry y/n, I didn’t mean to ruin the party.”

Your heels stop in their tracks as you tug on his arm and spin him to face you. Cupping his cheek and forcing him to meet your gaze, “It’s a dumb party, they’ll be plenty of others. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s her who should be sorry.” You practically growl.

The corners of his mouth pull up in a slight smile. “Thank you for sticking up for me...and for being there for me, always.”

You squeeze his hand again and continue walking. “You want to stay at mine tonight?”

He nods, eyes back on the ground.

You both walk along in silence for a few moments. He rubs roughly at his face and asks, “How did you know she drugged me?”

“I saw her slip a pill into a drink. She disappeared and I was looking for you, I put two and two together once I found you.” You look over at his solemn expression. “What happened?”

“She bought me over a drink, it was uncharacteristic but I thought maybe she was just trying to be nice. She left me to it, so I drank it. I started to feel...something, so I went upstairs into the bedroom and she burst in. She straddled me and pushed me onto the bed but when I rolled over to get up, she pinned me with her legs.” He scratches the back of his neck as you head up the stone steps in your apartment building. “I didn’t know what to do, I wanted her off me but I didn’t want to get physical and hurt her. It was kind of scary.”

Your heart felt heavy with empathy for him, like a rock slowly sinking down into the pit of your stomach, but with it rose the anger in your belly.

If you didn’t hate Veronica with burning passion before, you certainly did now.

She will pay for this. I will destroy her reputation and make her life hell, for Jungkook.

She should be arrested and rot in a cell, but it is not your place to do it.

Besides, if you knew anything about Jungkook, you had a feeling he just wanted to move on and forget about it. You, however, could hold a grudge for a millennium.

You unlock your front door and head into the kitchen, relief of being back in your apartment floods you and flows like waves through your limbs.

Jungkook heads off to the living room.

As you boil the kettle, tea being the cure for every possible mood or trauma in your family, you peek out at him.

Where you usually find his muscular branches draped all over your couch, quite content, today was a different story. He sat awkwardly looking out the window, knee’s shaking and hands constantly wiping down his thighs, palms rubbing against the rough material.

Once they’re done, you place the two steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table and join him on the sofa. Wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your cheek against his shoulder, this wasn’t an unusual action between the two of you but today... he flinched under your touch.

Gently, he removes your hands and slid himself to the opposite end, grabbing a pillow and cradling it in his lap. His eyes fixed onto your woven rug, as if it held all the answers he was searching for.

Although you tried not to let it get to you, you couldn’t completely ignore the pain in your chest from his rejection. Even if you wholly understood why.

He’s been through something major tonight and he was bound to be feeling a mixture of emotions right now, it still hurt not to be able to comfort him like you yearned to.

“Y/n,” His quiet voice whispers into the silence. Cheeks flushed, knuckles white from his grip on the pillow, as he leans forward, burning a hole into your floor. You angle your body towards him and wait.

“How long...until...the pill...wears off?” He asks so quietly, you have to strain towards him to hear.

Heat inflames your cheeks as you’re hit with the realisation that Jungkook is sitting, at arm's length away from you, with a very solid erection.

You instantly clamp your thighs shut to try and halter the intense throbbing in between your legs. Your core ablaze with liquid heat, as you try to push the image out of your mind, now was, absolutely, not the time. “Um, I’m not sure.”

He looks up at you, with eyes so intense they bore right into you, every thought you’ve had, every secret laid bare and for a moment you want to tell him, you want to tell him what you desire more than anything. But you break the stare and find yourself closing off once again.

“Why don’t we do something to take your mind off it?” You ask, not sure if your question was for his benefit or yours. “I could put on a film? Or we could play some video games?”

“Video games sound good.”

You rush over to the playstation, grabbing two controllers and bringing the console to life with the tap of a button.

Letting out your drawn-in breath, relieved to have something to distract you both from the penis in the room, you use this time of setting up the game to calm your racing heart and try to extinguish the unwanted thoughts that have come to life in your mind. The what if’s and maybe’s are not a road you should be exploring, not if you wanted to keep Jungkook in your life.

Your turn to hand him a controller but as you do, your foot catches on the edge of the rug and you feel yourself falling forward, grabbing anywhere that you can to stop yourself from smashing face first into your hardwood floor.

You manage to grip onto something; his hoodie, whilst his hand, thankfully, finds your elbow and steady's you.

Straightening yourself up and being only inches away from jungkook, you find yourself lost in a daydream of what might be. His scent swirled everywhere, fresh like the outdoors, as if you were standing in a meadow with the green breeze caressing your face and encircling you in a floral cage.

Your eyes roam up to his face. When his tongue shot out, wetting his mouth, you couldn’t help but pull in your bottom lip and pinch it between your teeth. All your blood raced down to your core, igniting a heat there that had you breathing hard. No, now is not the time to make your confession.

When your eyes finally met his, you were taken aback by the fever in them, as you stared deeper into his ebony pools, you could almost feel yourself drowning in desire.

He reaches up to your cheek and gently trails his fingertip down, stroking your moist lips. You let out a whimper, unable to hold it in, but still trying to keep your feelings enclosed in the prison you built for them long ago.

“Jungkook, I—”

His lips are on yours, smothering your important words down into a pit of lust but as your tongue dances hungrily with his, it’s not your words that feel important anymore.

His strong hands are on your back, pulling you to him, warmth from his touch searing through your clothes but you want more, need more.

You grab his top and pull him even closer, your wild mouths a clash of tongue and teeth. His solid erection pressed against your lower stomach is enough to make your core throb with violent need.

Is this right? Considering recent traumatic events, this felt wrong. This is not what this moment was supposed to feel like.

He pulls away, leaving you gasping for air and clarity. “Y/n, tell me if you don’t want this. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’ll understand.”

He searches your face vehemently, looking for the source of your hesitation.

“I do, I really do but are you sure you want to do this?” I press. “I want to be here for you, with everything that’s happened, I just want to make sure you’re ok?” You insist.

He meets your eyes again, pleading with you. “I want you, y/n. I need you. I don’t want to think about what happened tonight anymore. I’m ok, honestly.” He smiles at you, the sight pulls on your heart and has it doing wild somersaults in your chest. “I want this.” He brings his forehead to yours, the moment so gentle you wanted to hold him close and never let go.

You hesitantly lift your mouth to his; wondering and worrying that you’ve fallen asleep at Hoseok’s house party and all this will be a dream. His moist lips meet yours in a frenzy and as your core ignites like dynamite, slowly, you start to return his hunger. Easing yourself against him, you loosen into the kiss, your concern gradually falls away along with the walls you spent years building to hide your devotion for him.

His hands wrap around you, pulling you closer still. You break the kiss once again to lift his t-shirt off, over his head in one fluid movement, desperate to see and feel underneath. You run your hand over the smooth planes of his chest and the bumpy muscles down his stomach, moaning in sheer appreciation.

Finally, you can show him what he means to you and how he makes you feel inside.

Your hands find their way to his belt, yanking the leather open and whipping it out of his belt loops, making a loud crack echo through the room.

His eyes gawk widely at you, surprise glittered in them. His chest moving fast from his rapid breaths, as he closes the slight distance between you and fumbles with the top button on your shirt, giving up quickly and wrenching the material apart, buttons flying and tapping as they scatter the floor all around.

His hands are on your breasts, massaging, tugging them out of your bra, cool air hitting them, making your nipples pucker into hard buds. He unclasps your bra with one hand, yanking it off aggressively.

“God, y/n.” He lets out a tortured whine. Before his mouth is around your nipple and all you can feel is warm and wet slowly sucking pleasure out of you.

The noises that escape your lips shock even you.

His hands run up the length at the back of your thighs, your feet coming out from under you as he carries you to the bedroom, with your legs wrapping tightly around his waist.

Your hands finger through his silky hair, lips on his face, throat, whatever skin they can find.

Your back finds the bed as he climbs on top, towering over you, and all you can see is Jungkook. He glows like the large moon on an inky night, finding you and giving you some semblance of relief from the relentless darkness.

You're at the button of his trousers, popping it open and pushing them down his strong thighs with your feet.

He gives you a lingering kiss that then trails quickly past your bare chest and down your stomach.

Pushing your skater skirt up so it fans out across your ribs, he hooks a finger under the hem of your pale, pink panties and looks up at you with a questioning gaze. All you can do is eagerly nod your head in response, giving him permission.

He slowly peels away the lace that covers you, when the air hits you can feel just how wet you are, a coolness spreading across your exposed folds.

This is it, everything I've fantasised about during lonely nights with wandering fingers or meaningless hookups with nameless men, picturing his face and his hands instead.

He moans, biting his lip as he stares at your most intimate area with insatiable hunger.

His fingers sliding their way from your entryway to your swollen bud, the moment he touches it your body jolts with delight.

His digits slide into you before you have a chance to catch your breath, beckoning inside you, stroking the rough spot that sends shudders of pleasure throughout your body.

He sucks in a sharp breath with a hiss. “You’re so fucking wet, y/n.” He groans, jutting his hips against the bed. “I need you, so bad.”

He withdraws his fingers, making you feel empty and even more needy. Your body alight with electric lust and your heart aching with unspoken love.

What if this ruins everything? What if he’s only using me, in his current situation?...Honestly, do I really care?

You didn’t. Not in this moment, watching him lick your arousal off his digits as he pulls out his generous erection. The tip pink and angry, begging to be touched and glistening with precum.

He was your living fantasy and he was perfectly acting out every scene you’d created in your mind.

You grip his big shoulders, fingernails making crescent moons in his skin, and pull him down onto you. Your legs wind around him, pushing him to line up to your slick entrance as his eyes boar hungrily into yours.

He seems to hesitate for a moment, his stare searching for an answer to an unasked question but you don't want to think about regrets or repercussions right now.

“You ok?” You ask, breathless.

He nods, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Using your feet against the top of his thighs, you push him into you, answering with actions instead of words.

He moves slow, allowing both of you to savour the feeling. Bolts of pleasure shooting through you, like lightning illuminating the night sky.

Your walls stretching over him is truly euphoric, a moment you have waited years for, as he slides deep into you, reaching everywhere possible.

"Oh my god." He exclaims when he's leveled in you. "Fuck, you feel incredible."

His words cause a shiver of added need through you, your hips start rocking and rotating under him on their own, you’re blind with lust, heat encasing every part of your body.

All you can smell, feel, think is him. He is your undoing and you're more than ready to be undone.

He groans loudly as you writhe under him, encouraging him to move, pleading with him to move.

He slowly retracts his hips, anticipation causing you to quiver before plunging deep and hard, tearing a gasp from your throat with each thrust.

“Holy shit, Jungkook!”

He smirks at you. The sight is enough to make you clench around him, causing him to jolt and groan, biting his lip so hard you think he might draw blood.

He moves onto his knees, tilting your pelvis higher and as he glides back into you, he reaches new places, new depths, new pleasures.

His thumb finds his way to your sensitive button as he massages it with your slick arousal.

Your body is on fire, his touch igniting a trail behind him.

You can feel yourself nearing the edge, torn between being eager to jump off into the precipice but not wanting the journey to end yet.

“I want you to make you cum.” He whispers, as his punishing rhythm on your swollen bud builds the pressure deep down inside you.

The sounds coming from your mouth don’t sound like they belong to you, they’re desperate, needy sounds, full of bliss and torture at once.

He bucks into you, hitting that sweet spot with each forceful thrust, your legs trembling around him as you gasp for air. Incoherent words escorted by his name, stumble off your lips as he incessantly thrums on your clit.

“Cum for me.” He whispers again, his eyes watching your face with fascination.

At his words, your body jolts and back arches as your orgasm ripples through you, sending waves of pleasure cascading around your nerves.

Every fibre of your being alight with electric thrill.

Your loud moans echo, filling your bedroom, as you grind against his rock hard dick while your walls clench tightly around him.

“Shit, y/n!” He exclaims, as he abruptly withdraws from you and spurts his warm, liquid lust across your stomach while his fist gently milks him.

Your pulsating core eases, replaced with tingling satisfaction as you try to even out your rapid breaths.

He collapses on the bed beside you, pants mimicking yours.

But as you come down from your high, floating back to earth and reality, a rock lands in the pit of your stomach.

You just had sex with your best friend. Your best friend, who you have been in love with since you were kids, unbeknown to him.

What the fuck do I do now? Where do we go from here?

A wave of nausea washes over you as your mind is filled with an all consuming dread.

As a million thoughts race through your crowded mind on how to try and save your friendship, he brings over a flannel and starts gently wiping his orgasm off of you, being so attentive you want to cry.

All the years of holding in your feelings and unspoken words, the love for him blooming inside you like a flowery meadow in spring, now threatens to overflow and spill out revealing you.

When he returns, climbing back onto the bed, he angles himself to the side and props himself up on his elbow, facing you.

His fingertips skate across your stomach, tracing small circles and sending goosebumps shivering along your skin.

You look up at his perfect face, innocent eyes meeting yours and you’re overwhelmed by how much you just want to protect him and keep him safe from anything that hurts him.

You put your arms around him, hugging him tightly, as if that will be enough to fix it all.

I wish.

"I won’t ever let anything happen to you again.” You say against his chest.

His fingers come up, stroking your hair softly. “I know, thank you, for being there for me. I will always protect you too, you know that.”

You feel him kiss the top of your head and sigh. “Y/n, about what just happened.

Oh no, here it comes. I have to do something, I have to protect myself from what he’s about to say.

"Kook, listen," You cut him off, before he could tell you what you were dreading to hear; that it was a mistake, a momentary lapse in judgement, a friend helping out another friend.

If you hear those words, you don't think you could hold back the emotion that's currently pricking at your eyes.

I need to take control of this situation. Hopefully, I can salvage some part of this friendship.

You take a deep breath, preparing the words, when his finger on your lips catches you off guard.

"How about you listen," he raises an eyebrow, challenging you. When you close your mouth, he continues, "I have waited for this moment for a long time, so however you're about to shoot me down, could it wait until tomorrow? So I can at least enjoy this feeling of pretending what might have been."

There's a sadness in his eyes as he speaks, a pleading in them.

His words run over and over in your mind, while you try to reason with yourself that he can't possibly feel the way you think.

Surely, he can't mean he has feelings for me? I can't afford to give myself hope with that thought.

You swallow it down, along with any words that were fighting to come up.

You watch his hand, his fingertips tickling faint lines up to your chest, making your nipples pucker in response, they finally come to rest against your lips, tracing the edges.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, "One last time."

Last!? It can't be the last time, we've only just started.

It can't be the last time I'll ever get to feel his soft lips against mine.

I can't go back to pretending not to want more, not to care, not to love him so much it kills me inside. Like a poisonous ivy plant squeezing my lungs and capturing my heart, I've had a taste of what it's like to live and breath free of that, with vibrant tiger flowers blooming in place of it and I don't want to stop feeling this way.

You find yourself leaning up and crushing your lips to his.

He's frozen with surprise for a moment, before his hands wind around your waist, scooping you up and pressing onto you, bodies almost one.

His lips trail down your neck.

"Jungkook?"

"Hmm." He moans into your throat, the vibration making you shudder.

"I don't want it to be the last time." You hear the words escaping your mouth, as if you're watching from the outside and no longer in control of yourself.

His head snaps up, doe-eyed and mouth shaped in a little o. "You don't?"

You shake your head. "Not at all."

He beams at you, taking your face in his hands and touching his lips to yours so passionately, it brings all your emotion flying to the surface.

"God, y/n, I am so in love with you, I have been for years." he smiles against your lips and you can't help but mirror it in response. "Please, put me out of my misery and tell me you feel the same."

You can feel his hands shaking against your face and suddenly feel incredibly stupid for not realising his feelings sooner.

Who would have thought? Not me, clearly.

"I do. I definitely do." You pull him behind the neck, bringing him down to you, so close not even a sheet of paper could get between your skins.

As you kiss, tongues dancing wildly together, hot and hungry for each other.

His body weighing down on you, making you crazy with desire again.

"I want you." You say between kisses.

"You can have me as much as you want, I'm yours." He says, leaning his sweaty forehead against yours. "Besides, that pill hasn't worn off yet."

Arousal shoots down to your core like a bullet at his words.

You push him, flipping him over and straddling his muscular body. "Well, lets see what we can do to take care of that."

As you lean down to kiss him once again, knowing that...he's mine. And I'm his.

#thebtswritersclub #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #bangtan #bangtan army #bangtan seonyeondan #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bangtan fanfics #bangtan fanfiction #requests #bts army

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petri808 · 3 years

Text

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Chapter 2 Inukag angst

The surgery lasted for five nerve wracking hours, all the while the distress in the group building. They were kept semi-up-to-date by a nurse that the surgeons were struggling to control the bleeding in Kagome’s brain. When it was finally over, the primary surgeon brought the family into a separate room where he showed them scans to help in explaining the situation. It was the first time they learned the air bags had not deployed, and even though Kagome was wearing her seat belt, her head is believed to have struck the steering wheel, and the driver’s side window as she was jostled.

“We went in and repaired as many of the damaged blood vessels as we could, but as you can see here in this CT scan, there was some anoxia, erm, loss of oxygen to the cells, and the damage had reached the hippocampus. If you picture being shaken with a lot of force, the brain was essentially whiplashed. The good news is, the internal injuries are not as severe as it could have been and are localized to only one side, but the bad news is where the injured areas are.”

“Why is that?” Inuyasha questioned.

“The hippocampus is an important part of the brain for regulating the limbic system... when Ms. Higurashi wakes up, chances are high that she’ll develop what’s called retrograde amnesia. If her body heals well enough, it will only be temporary, which I believe will be the case. However, there is also the small chance her memory loss could become permanent.”

“Wait, so Kagome won’t remember anything?!” Panic-laced with Inuyasha's tone.

“Not exactly, and again, the memory system is very complex. We don’t know all the answers. But generally, people will remember long term memories, such as their childhood. She just may not remember the last few years of her life.”

“And if it’s temporary? When would her memories come back?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

“Generally, if her healing goes well, most recover in about 6-9 months with therapy.”

“Oh... no...” Inuyasha crumpled and fell to his knees, hands flying up to cradle his head in the realization— Kagome may not remember him, and along with her last words of hatred and tears as the only thing he had to hold on to... “No, no, no, t-this can’t be happening.” His heart started beating wildly in his chest and a sharp imagined pain dug into his temple as tears poured down his cheeks. “Kagome...” he whimpered. Inuyasha would do anything in to change what had happened. She didn’t deserve any of this!

Mrs. Higurashi too, kneeled beside the inconsolable man and hugged him. “We just have to hold out hope, Inuyasha, this is just temporary. I’m sure it’ll all work out, Kagome’s strong, so have faith in her.”

“I’m very sorry I don’t have better news,” the doctor apologized and gestured to the nurse who’d just arrived. “They’re moving her to intensive care now. The nurse will take you to the room.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Mrs. higurashi then turned her attention to Inuyasha. “Can you stand up dear? We should follow the nurse.”

He nodded quietly and staggered to his feet despite all the strength having left his body. Inuyasha always had an appreciation for Mrs. Higurashi, but it was in this moment he understood just how strong she truly was. Kagome’s mother survived losing her husband to an accident when the kids were little and now her own daughter was unconscious in a hospital. Yet here she was holding it together and comforting the man who’d played a role in it. Inuyasha allowed her to guide him by the hand like the scared child he’d become. She was for all purposes like a second mother to him, and he was grateful to have her in his life.

But the second they crossed the threshold of the sterile room, what little strength Inuyasha didn’t have left, dissolved at the sight of Kagome surrounded by the machines keeping her alive. He stared silently as the nurse explained further. A medically induced coma... breathing and feeding tube, catheter, blood transfusions... left distal wrist fracture, broken rib, punctured lung and chest contusions, cracked left eye socket... his mind zoned away from the woman’s static words, instead affixed to the visual’s confronting the group. The love of his life as if asleep, but with all those wires, and tubes, beeping machines, and face bandaged showing only a small portion of her right side was a real life horror movie scene. His eyes tracked the peaks and valleys of the heart monitor or piston-motion of the breathing apparatus beside the bed as of it tracked not Kagome’s vitals but his own life and the one, he had with her. Yes, there’s always the hope she’ll heal and bounce right back. Her mom was right, Kagome was strong, and Inuyasha loved that about her, but... humans are still such fragile creatures.

Inuyasha walked over to the side of the bed and gazed down through glassy eyes. “I already bought a ring...” he mumbled through the tears, “was just waiting for the perfect time to pop the question. I should’ve just... listened to her...” Inuyasha collapsed beside the bed with his head hung low and ears so flattened they were barely visible through his white hair. “I can’t even imagine not having her at my side.”

Miroku stepped forward and placed a hand on his friends shoulder. “Why don’t you let us take you home for now? There’s nothing you can do, and I’m sure Kagome would say you should get some rest.”

“I’ll stay tonight,” Mrs Higurashi added. “You should listen to your friend and get some rest.”

Inuyasha was just too exhausted to argue. He hugged Mrs. Higurashi and told her he’d be back the next day. Then he handed Miroku his car keys, while Sango would follow in their car. Frankly, he didn’t think he would be getting any sleep, but they were right. It wouldn’t do Kagome any good if he didn’t take care of himself too. The car ride was silent for the first half of the journey, but eventually Miroku started asking him more about what really triggered the fight. Inuyasha had already explained the reason earlier, so it was annoying to be grilled all over it again.

“But do you understand now?” Miroku pushed his friend. “Do you truly, and I mean truly understand why she was angry? Even I’ve seen your ex being rude to Kagome and you didn’t say anything about it.”

“Yeah,” Inuyasha growled back. “I get it. I was being a dick this whole time. But I can’t go back and change it now, so what’s the point of torturing me about it?!”

“Because you can still fix this moving forward. Look, I’m just trying to help you here, so cut the attitude. None of us are perfect—.”

“I’ll say, you womanizer,” Inuyasha rumbled under his breath.

“Exactly, but I changed once I met Sango, did I not, because that’s what you do when you love them. So, do you know what you need to do?”

“Yeah...” the hanyo sighed and slumped in the seat. “I gotta cut Kikyo off, just tell her we can’t be friends anymore.”

Miroku quirked an eyebrow based on the lackluster tone in Inuyasha’s voice. “Do you really mean it, cause it sure as hell don’t sound like it.”

“Look, man I’m fucking tired! I’ve got a lot on my mind! But I fucking mean it, okay?! If I have to choose between Kagome and Kikyo, I pick Kagome!”

Miroku parked the car and turned to his friend. “I’m glad to hear that. Now just follow through and don’t let Kikyo pull you back in.”

“You make her sound like a sorcerer or something.”

“The way she’s had you wrapped around her finger, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

The three friends bid each other good night leaving Inuyasha alone again in the empty house, and as he expected, he didn’t really sleep at all that night at home. He couldn’t even bear to sleep in the empty bed because it was a constant reminder of Kagome’s absence. How was he supposed to endure months of this, and that’s if the doctors predictions are correct? So, as he curled up on the couch, just staring out into the dark room, Inuyasha did the only thing he could do. Think. Without Kagome to elaborate, it fell onto his shoulders to fully come to grips with what triggered this event. Inuyasha meant what he’d said to Miroku about his choice, but it was a small lie about understanding her anger. He could grasp her frustration, but not the degree to which she’d snapped. Was it really that bad, and if so, how did he not realize it sooner? Needless to say, his haunted dreams that night left him stricken and tired come morning.

The house just felt so much colder without Kagome there, as if all the warmth and vitality left with her on that stormy, dreary night. Even after the first night, Inuyasha couldn’t bear to sleep in their bed all alone and stuck with the couch instead. Nothing made him feel better, despite the efforts of his friends and family who supported him as much as they could. Each day that passed by became a hollow routine. Go to work during the day, spend his evening at Kagome’s side, and home again to an empty house. He would sit there holding her hand, praying for just the smallest change that never came all the while nothing but his thoughts and the beeping machines to remind him he was alive. Because the longer this went on for, each time he’d look at her, it brought the opposite feeling of life. It was all in his head, but that’s what he felt like, dead inside, with the source of his soul lying in the bed in front of him.

Inuyasha never believed in the gods, but he prayed with all his heart they’ll hear his pleas. He squeezed Kagome’s lifeless hand. “She deserves to live, please, I’ll do anything,” his voice cracked, “anything to bring her back to us...”

#inukag #inukag au #inuyasha #inukag fan fiction #inukag fan fic #Kagome higurashi #amnesia prompt #angst #angst with happy ending

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kazuharem · 4 years

Text

“One Less Star” ↠ Lucien [ANGST]

Requested by @kazuko-stuff

This story contains an image not yet released in EN server as well as possible triggering content. Read at your own risk.

Characters: Lucien, mentions of Victor and MC (Female)

Genre: Angst ツ, Song-fic

Word Count: 1,733

Warnings: spoiler warnings for Ch. 25 (some canon details), mentions of drug use (don’t do drugs, kids), mentions of a major character death I guess...

A/N: Uh.... I know I said Lucien angst was addictive.... but I didn’t realize it hurt this much. I also know I promised Lucien fluff, but this was too good to pass up. I’m so so sorry that I haven’t published anything in well over a month. Things have been so stressful for me and I’ve had the worst case of writer’s block. However! I am writing Helios and Lucien smut to make up for that! I also don’t know if the depictions are accurate cuz.... never done drugs.... so this was based off lots of research. Also inspired by this fanart.

Part II of this: story

Summary: The light of Lucien’s life, his little butterfly, was no longer part of his world.

youtube

Picture and story under the cut since it contains spoilers and possible triggering content.

[I wished upon a star last night and thought of you

But must have been a dream cause you're not here

I've never been one to believe in fairy tales or fantasy

But perhaps it's time for a change of mind.

I guess there's a first for everything]

The ticking of the clock was abnormally loud in the silence. Lucien sat in the darkness, breathing ragged as he tried his best to ease the dull roar coursing through his ears. A sharp gasp broke the air as he doubled over, hunching over as he pressed a hand to his chest where stabbing pains could be felt. He fumbled with a shaking hand to reach out to the bottle of pills sitting in front of him and missed, sending them scattering across the floor. “Ugh…” Lucien’s chin dropped to his chest as he panted. Without looking, he grabbed haphazardly what he could and slammed the pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. Not enough, Lucien thought as he leaned against his bookcase, closing his eyes. Nothing eased the sensation of the pressing pain that robbed him of breath. His pants came out, choked and stuttered.

[We fell in love, we had our fun

You always had enough dreams for both of us

I wonder what would come of us

If we could trade these ends for beginnings]

Memories ran across his closed eyes. Those of her. Black and white, like photo negatives that had no time to be developed. Unwanted. Forgotten.

Cheerful laughter rang in his ears. “Lucien, thank you so much for your help!” He could see her beam at him, her smile bright and sweet. “I couldn’t have done it without you!”

Another vision of her popped up unbidden before him, but Lucien welcomed it eagerly like a man starved. He drank in the sight of her greedily. “Okay, I will wait for you,” she spoke, eyes teary and voice trembling. “I will take care of myself...and disturb you whenever I want. You have to do the same! Take good care of yourself!”

He was suddenly bombarded with various versions of her. The her wearing his sweater curled up on the couch as she typed feverishly on her laptop. The her awashed in a blue tint as she reached up to press her lips against his even when he had warned her that he was dangerous. The her running out into the pouring rain to hug him when she had followed him to Copenhagen. The her gazing adoringly up at him, flashes of bright light dancing across her face from the sparkler that she held between them. The her dusted in flour as she dropped a dumpling into his bowl wishing him happiness and health for the new year. The her with a smile as pure and untainted and beautiful as the fresh snow as she wished that she could celebrate his birthday with him every year in the future.

The beautiful images morphed together into one of her bathed in a warm light. “I wish our love will last forever,” she whispered to him, eyes aglow with the dazzling love solely reserved for him and only him.

Lucien lurched forward, eyes flying open. He looked around wildly, but there was no sign of any comfort in his dark and desolate apartment.

He was sure that she had been there just a second ago. Hadn’t she just been whispering in his ear about taking good care of himself?

A dry sob broke out from his throat, grating and rough, when he realized that he was alone. Like he always had been.

Lucien grabbed more pills and swallowed. Not enough, not enough. The voices in his head became disembodied, haunting.

With some effort, he staggered to his feet using the bookshelf for support.

He needed more. He needed to see her, needed to hear her voice.

He panted desperately as he clung onto the wooden shelf, cold sweat pouring down his back. She couldn’t be gone, Lucien told himself as he tried to gain back some semblance of control over the swirling visions, she’s not gone. The reassurances he gave himself were instantly shattered the moment his eyes landed on the film calendar she had gifted him as a birthday present.

No.

Lucien began to tremble violently. The date served as an unwelcome reminder for exactly what had occurred a month ago.

No. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t…couldn’t be gone.

“No,” the word left his mouth in a cracked whimper. “Please…”

No one was there to hear his broken plea.

[I'm drinking from an empty cup

The hardest part of young love was growing up

It's not enough to fill me up

Cause now there's one less star in the city]

“You…did what…?” Lucien stared at the man before him, feeling like there was no longer strength left in his body at the words that left the man’s mouth. “She…she’s-” He was physically unable to say the next words.

He wanted to grab Victor’s collar, wanted to shake him. Wanted to ask why he did what he did. Why he couldn’t fulfill such a simple request.

“Keep her safe...and please let her be happy.”

“I trusted you,” Lucien wanted to say. “I entrusted her safety to you. You were supposed to protect her.”

“You cared for her as well. You loved her too,” Lucien wanted to accuse, wanted something-someone to blame.

But upon looking at the gaunt man in front of him, eyes sunken with pain that reflected Lucien’s own, Lucien knew that Victor had been hurting just as much as he had. The usually impeccably dressed CEO looked haggard.

Lucien swallowed hard. “Our partnership ends then. There’s no reason for us to collaborate anymore,” he was surprised his voice was still steady. “I bid you farewell, Victor.”

He reached the door of Victor’s office when Victor spoke up.

“Lucien.” Lucien paused but did not turn back. “For what it’s worth,” There was a pause. “I am sorry.”

Lucien’s hands trembled and he curled them into tight fists. “I understand why you had to do so,” he said to the door. His voice sounded like it was on the verge of cracking. He reached for the door.

“There’s a chance,” Victor stopped him again before he could leave. “There might be a chance she…could still be…alive.”

Lucien closed his eyes. Would it be foolish to cling onto this useless hope? “I’ll take my leave-”

“I’ll bring her back,” Victor’s voice had its usual determination, “I’ll do everything in my power to bring her back.”

“Goodbye, Victor,” Lucien said quietly, dismissing the other man’s words. He left before Victor could say anything else.

Lucien passed through the halls of LFG in a numb daze. He wandered the streets, not knowing where his feet were taking him.

When he arrived in front of a familiar apartment, he blinked. Pulling the keys from his pocket shakily, he unlocked the apartment he had vacated. Part of him hoping that Victor’s words were just part of a cruel joke.

Nothing greeted him. No bright smile that rivaled that of the sun. No pattering of eager footsteps rushing to hug him. Nothing but dust motes dancing in the air.

“No,” Lucien’s chest felt constrictive. “No, no,” He gasped for breath, his legs giving out on him as he collapsed against the door. “Please…no,” the words came out in a broken sob.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” his whispers hitched as sharp stabbing pains robbed him of breath. “I’m sorry…” Lucien grabbed at his chest, fingers digging into the skin. “No…” Tears slid down his cheeks, hot and scalding. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” he choked out, “I’m so sorry…”

[I can't keep living without you

But I'll wait and someday, I'll join you in the stars

But for now I can't keep thinking about you

Cause I can't find my way

Cause now there's one less star in the city]

Lucien staggered, the memory of that day leaving him reeling. “No,” he gasped, shaking his head weakly. He refused to believe the pathetic scene he had just witnessed. “No….she’s not…I’m…no…”

He stumbled across the room to his coffee table and grabbed a syringe, almost dropping it as his shaking hand fumbled desperately. Lucien reached for the tiny glass bottle next to it and plunged the needle into the bottle. Please, an inner voice begged. Please let me see her again. He took a deep breath as he stabbed the needle into his arm. Releasing a hiss, Lucien pushed down slowly on the syringe. He relished in the spread of warmth as he cast away the syringe, breathing finally slowing down.

Lucien collapsed against the window, his shuddering pants easing into deep and languid breaths. I’ll see her again, he thought dazedly as his vision started to blur. I’ll see her again in my dreams.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the gleam of the dark window.

“Look at yourself, Ares,” his reflection seemed to taunt. “Look at how weak you’ve become.”

“Be…quiet,” Lucien spat, his voice nearing a growl.

“You were foolish to think you had a future with her. Foolish to believe that she would still choose to give you trust and love even after you betrayed her. Love? Happiness? Wake up, Ares, there is no love or happiness for you,” the face in the window sneered.

There was the sound of shattering glass and Lucien watched with numb fascination as a dark liquid seemingly blossomed from his clenched fist. There was silence. Blissful and soothing.

Suddenly, there was the sound of light footsteps. He raised his head slowly and his breath caught in his throat.

It was her.

She was here.

“Lucien,” she smiled, and Lucien felt his heart swell at the sheer beauty of it, blinding and brilliant. “Did you miss me?” She stepped delicately towards him and spread open her arms.

Lucien pulled her into his arms desperately, his movements eager and clumsy. “I…missed you so much,” he croaked as his arms enveloped her. “I missed you so much that I was going crazy,” he admitted as he buried his nose into her hair, inhaling her familiar scent.

“Well, I’m here now,” She whispered, and Lucien could feel every fiber of his entire being sing with relief.

“Yes, don’t leave me, my love. Stay here with me forever, my little butterfly. I love you.”

───── ⋆⋅ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ⋅⋆ ─────

A/N Part II: I am not okay right now. I hate myself. Goodbye

Part I: Here

Part III: Here

For more of my work: 📖

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