#i’m obsessed he’s my new everything which has me worried about his odds of survival

[eugeniedanglars]

frank is such a fucking ICON. gets caught in a pit trap at 10 AM and by 5 he’s already convinced bill to let him into his compound, feed him, bathe him, clothe him, sing to him, and fall in love with him. all before he even asked bill’s NAME

#i’m obsessed he’s my new everything which has me worried about his odds of survival #the last of us #over 1k

[nerdzzone]

Luckless Romance

Summary: When Whitney Taylor was lucky enough to get the job of a lifetime doing a photoshoot for Marvel Studios, she didn’t expect to come away from the experience with a new friend. Especially not a friend that she quickly fell head over heels for.

Convinced that those feelings were completely one sided, she kept them to herself - until one night changed everything.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Prequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy + -More Hearts Than Mine-

Note: While this is set before the other two parts of this story, I would definitely recommend reading the other two first if you haven’t already. I know that might seem odd, but I do think it flows better that way. This is more of an aside than an introduction, I think, but it could just be that I wrote them in this order so that’s how it makes sense to me.

Anyway! Thank you to everyone who has been eagerly awaiting this part of their story. The support has been so motivating and I’m already working on more little snippets of their lives together that should hopefully be posted soon.

Please let me know what you think! 

_____

August 2015

Growing up in Los Angeles - especially with a rather well known uncle - I was very aware that celebrities were really just normal people who usually weren't deserving of the obsessive adoration they received from the general public.

That being said, it still felt very surreal when I found myself sitting around a table with some of Hollywood's biggest stars as we celebrated the end of a long and tiring photo shoot in which I was the photographer. Three weeks earlier, I had been slaving away at a department store portrait studio taking boring, uninspired family photos, so the contrast between that and where I was now - sharing drinks with the cast of Marvel's next big movie after wrapping my first real photography gig - would be enough to make anyone feel a tad awestruck.

It didn't help that it had all come together so quickly that I'd hardly had time to wrap my head around it. The photographer that they originally had lined up to do the shoot had some kind of family emergency and had to drop out at the last minute. They were going to postpone the shoot indefinitely, but my family connections with Iron Man provided another solution. My uncle Rob wasted no time in giving Marvel my name and portfolio and less than twenty-four hours later I was signing a contract for the biggest career opportunity I'd ever had.

I was endlessly grateful - the pay was far better than I was getting at the department store and there was plenty of potential for more Marvel related photo shoots in the future - but the pressure was nerve wracking. I'd hardly slept at all in the few days leading up to it and by the time we wrapped, I was exhausted. As the adrenaline faded and the relief that I survived kicked in, I was very much looking forward to crawling into my bed with a nice glass of wine to get a good night's sleep before I started the editing process the next day.

But there was no time for rest with this crowd and it was quickly decided that we were all going out for some kind of unofficial wrap party. The official one had been two weeks before when they'd finished filming in Georgia, but now that they were reunited in L.A., it seemed another celebration was necessary. I'd protested at first and tried to sneak off before they could realize I was gone, but my uncle thwarted my plan and, after a few minutes of heavy guilting about how long it had been since I'd spent any time with him, I reluctantly agreed.

Which was how I found myself sitting at a table in a private room of a popular bar with my uncle - Robert Downey Jr - my Aunt Susan, Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan, Scarlett Johannsen and Paul Rudd. There were other cast members and their friends dotted around the room, some sitting by the bar while others played pool, and I couldn't help but take a moment to be grateful that I'd been given a chance to join this team of incredibly talented people in some small way.

I was also taking a moment to be grateful that my placement in the booth we were sitting in gave me the opportunity to be sandwiched between the wall and Chris Evans - who smelt so good that it should probably be illegal.

There'd been a spark between us all day. He was attractive - I'd known that going in, it was a pretty beautiful cast - but seeing him in person with all his Captain America muscles was really quite a sight.

But it was more than just that.

There was something about the way he looked at me, flashing me those blush inducing smirks along side his teasing comments and the way he was so genuinely kind and polite to me throughout the whole day. I was sure that my uncle had warned them that this was my first high profile shoot, but Chris had been incredibly supportive and he never came across as condescending if he offered me any suggestions. He checked in with me throughout the day to make sure that I wasn't getting too overwhelmed and it was very much appreciated despite the fact that his effortless flirting often left me more distracted than productive.

Sitting next to him now, feeling his thigh pressed against mine due to the tight squeeze needed to fit our whole group around the table, had me very distracted again until my uncle dragged me back into the conversation.

"So, Whitney, how's Trent?"

His question, or more likely the displeasure in his voice when he asked it, captured the attention of the table and all eyes were on me as I shrugged.

"He's great as far as I know, but I haven't talked to him in a while," I admitted. "We broke up a couple of months ago."

"Thank god for that," Robert grinned. "It's about time!"

"Don't be insensitive," Susan scolded him, which probably would have been deserved if I didn't know how accurate of a statement it was. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I think she means 'what horrible thing did he do that finally made you come to your senses'?"

Susan swatted at her husband, but I cringed at the memory.

"It was really bad. I don't even want to tell you."

His jaw tightened at that remark as his glee shifted to something more like concern.

"What did he do? Do I need to assemble my team of Avengers and kick his ass?"

I giggled at the thought of that happening as all the men around the table voiced their willingness to help.

"Thank you, but no, I'd rather you didn't," I assured them. "It wasn't anything horrific, it's just embarrassing that I ever went out with someone as sleezy as he was."

Chris glanced down at me with a smirk on his face.

"Well, in that case, you gotta tell us now..."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement and I, rather foolishly, looked at my uncle for support, but all I received was a shrug and a raise of his eyebrow as if to say 'go on'. So, against my better judgment and with a sigh of shame and regret, I explained.

"He took me out for drinks on my birthday and invited some woman that he met on Tinder to join us," I informed them. "Apparently, without my knowledge, he'd advertised that we were looking for someone to join us for a threesome that night which was his birthday gift to me."

There was a collective widening of eyes and, after approximately two seconds of stunned silence, a howl of laughter came from my uncle. The rest of the group, however, seemed unsure what to say until Paul spoke up.

"Well, was that was you asked for?"

"No!" I shrieked in protest. "I mean, to each their own, but no! Absolutely not!"

My uncle looked like he was about to cry from laughter as the rest of the group joined in with him. All except for Chris, who was biting back a smile with what seemed to be a considerable amount of effort.

"Guys, c'mon, don't laugh at that!" He scolded them. "That's horrible!"

"Oh, don't feel too bad for her," Robert warned him, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "The guy took her to Hooters on their first date and she still agreed to see him again."

It was true and looking back, I had no way to justify such a poor choice. I felt my cheeks heat up as I took a long sip from the gin and tonic in front of me.

"Shut up," I huffed. "He said he just liked the wings there..."

"That's classic," Sebastian smirked. "That's what they all say!"

"Why did you even agree to go out with a man named Trent?" Anthony chimed in. "There's no way someone named Trent isn't going to be a douche bag."

Chris laughed then, throwing his head back as his hand came up to rest on his chest.

"That's true!" He howled and, as embarrassed as I was by the situation, I couldn't help but feel a different kind of flush at the sound of his heartfelt laugh.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Susan chimed in despite the smile on her face as well. "It sounds like poor Whitney has learned her lesson so there's no need to make her feel any worse."

Robert shrugged and gave me a pointed look.

"As long as she promises to make better choices."

I appreciated that he had my best interest at heart, but I rolled my eyes anyway in a show of annoyance.

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'm swearing off men for a while so there will be no choices made at all, good or bad, for the foreseeable future."

Susan frowned at that information, clearly displeased by my resignation to being alone, but luckily, a distraction arrived at our table and forced a change of subject - a distraction in the form of Jeremy Renner with a very full tray of shots.

Everyone cheered at the sight of him, but my uncle nudged me under the table to draw my attention back towards him.

"This is why I call him the Lord of the Underworld," he warned me. "Be careful..."

"Don't listen to him!" Jeremy insisted, handing out two shots to everyone except my aunt and uncle who weren't drinking. "I just know how to encourage everyone to have a good time."

"Does this group need any encouragement?"

Scarlett's question earned a laugh from the crowd, but Jeremy nodded his head.

"Apparently so or you wouldn't all be sitting in a corner, nursing your first drinks!" He pointed out. "So, drink up!"

He lifted a shot glass in the air and we all copied the action, giving a 'cheers' before tossing back the sharp tequila he'd chosen. The second shot went down almost immediately after and as I felt it burning down my throat, I knew we were in for quite a night.

-

"So, how are we going to do this?" Chris asked as we stood around a ping pong table with Anthony and Scarlett a bit later in the evening. "Girls against boys?"

"No way, man," Anthony shook his head, putting his arm around Scarlett's shoulders. "I want this one on my team."

"Ouch," Chris smirked. "But whatever, I was just trying to make it fair. If you want to play against the two best players then that's your choice."

"You literally met her today," Scarlett reminded him with a laugh. "How would you know what her ping pong skills are like?"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my uncle beat me to it as he chimed in from where he sat at a nearby table.

"She's terrible at almost every sport, but what she lacks in skill, she makes up for with competitive spirit."

"Terrible is harsh!"

My protest did nothing to reassure Chris though as he shook his head.

"Good thing I have enough skill for the both of us then."

"I have skills!" I insisted. "Let's stop messing around and I'll prove it."

Anthony joined in the laughter at my expense as he bounced the ball on the table.

"Alright, do we all know the rules?" He asked. "The ball has to bounce once on your side of the table before you can hit it back."

"First to ten?" Chris suggested. "We'll let you guys go first."

We all agreed and Anthony bounced the ball again as he prepared to serve. He started off slow and gentle, lobbing it over slowly enough that I returned it with no trouble. However, when Scarlett hit it back, Chris made it clear he was here to play as he hit it with enough force that Scarlett had to leap out of the way to avoid being hit.

"Yes!" I cheered, reaching over to high five Chris. "Nice one!"

"Okay, I see how it is," Anthony shook his head as he tossed the ball back to us for our serve. "No holding back now."

Chris smirked as he easily caught the ball. He didn't waste any time before throwing it back with a hard serve, but this time they were ready for it and Anthony hit it back easily. He aimed it at me, which I could only assume was deliberate due to my uncle's doubts of my abilities, but I managed to send it straight back. His surprise at my success was clear as he was unprepared for it to be heading back in his direction and we scored another point.

"Beginners luck!"

Robert's interjection from the sidelines earned him a rude gesture from me, but I knew he was probably right - unless the last couple of drinks had somehow sharpened my reflexes and I seriously doubted that as I was already well on my way past tipsy.

However, the next few rounds showed that my uncle had been wrong and I, apparently, had quite a knack for table tennis. Chris and I worked together like a dream and were absolutely decimating Scarlett and Anthony. The game was almost over as fast as it started, but when we only needed one more point Chris suddenly appeared to give up. He missed shot after shot and we were quickly losing our lead which was making me lose my temper.

"Dammit, Chris," I huffed, trying to suppress my annoyance as he missed a very easy ball. "Get it together over there!"

"Me?!" He gawked. "I thought you were going to get that one!"

"It was clearly on your side!"

"If that's what you think," he started as he picked up the ball and came back to the table. "Then you need to get your eyes tested, sweetheart."

"Don't 'sweetheart' me," I shot back. "Start paying more attention before you make us lose."

"Whatever you say," he smirked at me before adding: "Sweetheart."

I shot him a glare and - without thinking - I swatted his very hard to ignore, perfectly sculpted bum with my paddle. He yelped, catching the ball that he'd just thrown into the air with the intention of serving and stared at me wide-eyed. I was almost as surprised by the action as he was and I opened my mouth to apologize, but I was interrupted before I could.

"Careful there, Whitney," Sebastian warned from where he sat with my uncle at the spectator's table. "That's Marvel property!"

"They're very protective of it too," Anthony joked. "It's one of their best assets."

"Yeah, so show it some respect," Chris demanded, looking cocky despite the slight red tint to his cheeks. "And anyway, if you're trying to get me to focus then I don't think making me think about spanking is a great strategy."

"Ooh," I giggled. "Someone get me the number for TMZ! I've got tomorrow's headline ready for them: 'Chris Evans likes to be spanked'!"

Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gently served the ball.

"Who said I like to be the one receiving?"

My mouth went dry when I realized what he was implying and several uncalled fantasies flashed through my brain. With that short little sentence, images filled my mind of him using his large hands for something entirely different to what they were currently doing - something that perhaps involved bending me over his lap. I felt a wave of heat wash over me at that thought as my gaze was drawn to him while I wondered if he was aware of the effect that he had on me. I was so pathetically distracted that I didn't even see the ball coming back towards us until it hit me on the side of my head.

-

Despite my embarrassing blunder, Chris and I managed to get ourselves together quickly enough to still win the game and our victory was promptly celebrated by another round of drinks.

My aunt and uncle left not long after that as they were eager to get home to their young children, but my uncle couldn't go without a few parting words when I hugged them goodbye.

"Chris is a good man," he informed me. "I'm not sure what his stance is on threesomes, but he wouldn't take you to Hooters on a first date, that's for sure."

I could tell what he was implying, but I questioned him anyway. The only answer I could pull out of him was a teasing wink and Susan ushered him out the door with a roll of her eyes and firm instructions for me to call them soon.

I tried to push his comment from my mind because the thought of a man as handsome, funny and intelligent as Chris Evans even considering the idea of taking me on a date seemed like insanity, but I would have been lying if I said it didn't instill a tiny flicker of hope in me. I was fairly certain that he had been flirting with me so maybe it wasn't entirely as far-fetched as my low self-esteem would have me believe.

I tried not to dwell on his words too much through the rest of the evening, but it was hard to shake the idea from my mind. Especially with how tactile he was with me. Whether it was when we moved on to dancing and he pulled me close, whenever we were walking to the bar and kept his arm draped around my waist or when we eventually settled on a pair of bar stools, sitting close enough that my knees were tucked between his.

That was how we were sat, tucked together at the bar, when I finished another drink and realized that the fuzziness in my head and the weight of my eyelids were telling me that it was time to head home. I wasn't eager for the night to end, I wanted to stay in this little flirtatious bubble as long as possible, but I could feel the alcohol induced fatigue hitting me and I knew I needed to leave before I no longer had the energy.

"How are you getting home?" Chris asked when I announced my departure. "Do you want some company while you wait for a cab?"

"Oh, that's okay," I assured him as I slid off the bar stool I'd been sitting on. "I'm just gonna walk."

"Walk?" He raised an eyebrow. "Where do you live?"

"Only about twenty minutes away," I shrugged. "It's no big deal."

I was being purposely vague, but Chris' questions persisted until I finally confessed what neighbourhood I lived in. Once I did, a worried look clouded his face.

"Really? That's not a great area..."

"It's not that bad!" I insisted. "I mean, I'll definitely move once the photography thing picks up and I would appreciate if you don't tell my uncle, but it's not that bad."

"He doesn't know?" Chris raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that could only be interpreted as one of judgment. I nodded in answer to his question and he sighed, tossing back the last of the beer in front of him before standing up as well. "Just let me say goodbye and I'll walk with you."

"No, no, you don't have to do that! Stay with your friends."

"My Ma would kill me if she found out I let a woman walk home alone and I'm guessing Robert would have something to say about it too from what you just said," he insisted, flashing me one of his dazzling smiles. "Besides, I was gonna head out soon anyway."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded in response.

"Absolutely."

I felt bad that he was leaving because of me, but I had a feeling that any arguments would be futile. I followed him around the room, saying goodbye to the few people who were still at the bar before we headed outside. As soon as the fresh air hit me, I really felt the full affects of the several drinks I'd had throughout the night and I was quite grateful for Chris' company on my walk.

"Thanks for doing this. I'm sorry you had to leave early."

Chris had pulled his baseball hat lower on his head, probably in an attempt to hide his identity a bit more, but the people bustling in the streets were too oblivious or drunk to pay much attention.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled down at me. "It was time for me to go anyway. I've had enough wild nights with Renner to know that nothing good happens after midnight."

"Oh, I see how it is," I smirked. "I thought this was a chivalrous gesture, but it's just an act of self-preservation."

Chris laughed, a deep laugh that made my smirk slide into a grin, as he held out his arm for me to take which I happily did.

"Can't it be both?"

"I suppose. I guess you must be pretty chivalrous to take on a role like Captain America." As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt my cheeks heat up. "Sorry, that was dumb. I sound like some shitty interviewer. Like, 'tell me what aspects of the character you see in yourself'."

I'd put on a bad, faux news anchor voice for the last part of that sentence and I felt Chris' arm shake as he chuckled, but he shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine. It's a fair question," he assured me. "I think I've always been pretty chivalrous. I'm close with my mom and two sisters so they made sure I knew how to treat a lady. But that is one bonus of playing a character like Cap, he has such strong morals and such a steady sense of right and wrong, it inspires me to be as much like him as I can be."

Just as he finished his thought, I stumbled over an uneven part of the sidewalk and was only saved from face planting by his grip on my arm. I flushed with embarrassment again, but the alcohol in my system had me dissolving into giggles.

"Sorry, thank you. Wow, I'd say you really do have some Captain America traits." I flashed him a smile. "Was it like a lifelong dream for you? If you don't mind me asking, last question about it, I promise."

"You can ask all the questions you want," he shrugged and it seemed genuine, not just an expected assurance. "But no, it wasn't. I actually turned it down several times."

"Really? You did? Isn't a role like that every actor's dream?"

"Probably," he nodded. "But I did the Marvel thing with Fantastic Four and even that little taste of fame was almost too much for me. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do and I'm so grateful for all the opportunities I've been given, but it can be a lot to deal with."

"Those obsessive fangirls too much for you?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. " I was already having panic attacks, so I wasn't sure that I could handle taking that next step. But it's more just the total lack of privacy that comes with fame. Not just for me either, I knew it would affect my whole family."

"That makes sense," I nodded, knowing from my own experience that he was absolutely right. There'd been a few unfortunate incidents on slow news days where articles about 'Robert Downey Jr.'s niece' had popped up after some of my poorer choices in life. "Are you glad that you went for it now?"

"Absolutely! It was the best thing I've ever done. There are times when I still struggle, I don't do well at the premieres with all the pressure and the people, but the whole cast is like a family so the support is amazing."

"It's really sweet how close you guys all seem to be."

"It makes a big difference," Chris agreed as we turned off the main street in the direction of my neighbourhood. "But what about you? Have you always wanted to be a photographer?"

I paused for a moment as I tried to get my rather tipsy brain to figure out the simplest response to his question.

"Yes and no," I finally answered. "I've always loved photography, but I never really considered it as a career until about two years ago. I actually went to university to study accounting."

"Accounting? Wow, so you're a math wiz?"

"Hardly," I giggled. "It was what my dad wanted me to do to guarantee myself a solid career, but I hated it. I flunked out within a year. I'm not entirely sure that my dad has ever forgiven me for it, he was really disappointed in me."

"But surely he just wants you to be happy, whatever job you have..."

"You would think so," I shrugged. "Doesn't feel like it all the time though. He's very against the whole starving artist thing. He's not a bad person, but he's very practical and just can't understand how suffocating an office job would be for someone who likes to be creative. I get the impression that just being around me these days exasperates him."

I felt another blush cover my cheeks as I realized I was over-sharing. It could easily be blamed on the alcohol, but Chris was a good listener and I found him very easy to talk to.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "That was more information than you probably needed."

"You don't need to apologize so much," Chris assured me. "I wouldn't have asked the question if I didn't want to hear the answer."

"Sor-" I paused. "Bad habit, I guess."

Chris squeezed my arm and shot me a reassuring smile before getting our conversation back on track.

"So, what made you persevere with photography in the end?"

"I just really enjoy doing it. I love capturing those unexpected moments, like the awkward laughter in between poses, the moments when people have their guard down and don't realize how beautiful they look. Then, when I get to share the photos I've taken with people and they see themselves in a different way, the joy it brings them makes it worth any financial struggles." As I finished my explanation, a thought struck me. "I actually got some good ones today, just on my phone when you guys first came in, not doing the planned and posed stuff."

They'd all been so excited to see each other even though it was just a few short weeks since they'd wrapped the film. It was sweet and I hadn't been able to resist capturing their reunion.

"Really? Could I see them?"

"If you give me your phone number, I can send them to you," I smiled up at him. "That would actually be helpful. They're obviously different than the ones I took for the actual shoot, but you can tell me if they're any good or if you think I just got the job because of my connections."

I reached into my bag and handed my phone to Chris so he could type in his number which he did before shooting me a skeptical glance.

"Do you really think your connection to Robert is the only reason you got the job?"

"Well, it was all so last minute. I can't help, but assume it's a mix of desperation and some pulled strings," I admitted. "But I know this is my one shot. Robert really believes in people making their own way in life so if I totally blow this opportunity, I know he won't fight for them to have me back again and I wouldn't want him to."

We turned another corner, taking us just a few blocks from my apartment building as Chris answered.

"I'm sure he wouldn't have gotten you the job if there was any chance that he thought you would fail," Chris assured me. "But he is a good person to have in your corner. I probably wouldn't have taken the Captain America gig at all if it wasn't for him convincing me I could do it. He can be very persuasive."

I smiled at that information. I knew my uncle didn't like to take no for an answer so I could imagine how that conversation went.

"He can be very encouraging when he needs to be," I agreed. "Even if that encouragement sometimes comes out in the form of publicly shaming someone for their taste in men."

Chris let out another deep laugh and shook his head.

"C'mon, you gotta admit you deserved that."

"I did not!"

"He took you to Hooters and you didn't run away as fast as possible," Chris reminded me as if I could have forgotten such an embarrassing decision. "If that's not deserving of some public shaming then I don't know what is."

"Dating is hard these days," I huffed. "Maybe it would be easier if I had giant muscles like you, but it's hard to meet people."

"I think having muscles the size of mine would actually make you less hot."

I couldn't bite back the giggle that slipped from my lips as I looked up at him with a questioning raise of my eyebrows.

"Less hot?" I asked. "That would imply that you think I'm hot now."

"I do," Chris smirked confidently. "I think you're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words instantly made my cheeks heat up again. I'd baited him into the compliment, but I didn't expect his blunt and honest answer. I was stunned into a momentary silence that only made Chris' smirk grow wider until I giggled once again.

"You're just drunk."

"I am not," Chris chuckled. "Well, maybe a little, but that doesn't change the facts."

There was a grin on my face and I felt like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Chris Evans just called me gorgeous. Any woman who said they didn't swoon in that situation was probably lying.

"That's very sweet of you to say," I told him, trying to play it cool. "You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself."

Chris squeezed my arm again as he flashed me a smile.

My apartment building was in sight now, just half a block away, and I was disappointed that our evening was about to end.

I was comfortable with Chris. He was nice and easy to talk to and I'd had more fun and laughs with him in the last few hours than I'd had throughout most of my last relationship. But despite our harmless flirting, I knew he was too good for me. I knew that I didn't stand a chance with him and that when the alcohol wore off and the sun came up, he would see that. As much as I wasn't ready to say goodbye, I could hardly keep us walking in circles around the block without him noticing so I reluctantly slowed to a stop outside my building.

"This is me..."

Chris looked up and nodded slowly.

"It doesn't look so bad."

"Because it's not!" I insisted. "Honestly, this isn't that bad of a neighbourhood."

"Well, it's not that great either, Whitney."

Another giggle slipped from my lips as I pulled my keys out of my purse, reluctantly slipping my arm from his.

"Your accent makes my name sound funny," I teased. "You don't say Whitney, you say Win-ney."

Chris laughed, but shook his head.

"Now who's drunk."

"Oh, definitely me," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"Okay, Winnie, whatever you say."

He said my name wrong on purpose that time, but there was something about it that put a smile on my face. Emboldened by the alcohol and by his flirtatious nature, I decided to take a chance.

"Do you want to come up for a bit?" I asked. "One last drink maybe?"

Chris hesitated, but after a moment of thought, he shook his head.

"Nah, I should probably get home. I think I've had enough drinks for tonight." His solid reasoning eased the blow of rejection slightly, but it still burned me up inside. "Thanks for the invite though, maybe I'll take you up on that offer another time."

"Sure," I nodded, hoping I was masking my disappointment. "That would be nice."

"Great," he grinned before pulling me into a hug. "It was nice to meet you, Winnie. I have a feeling that we're going to be good friends."

Friends.

Good friends.

His words echoed in my head as I agreed and slipped out of his grasp. We said our goodbyes, I thanked him for escorting me home and I watched as he walked back down the street before I went inside.

Friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S.

At least he'd made himself clear and subtly let me down easy before I had chance to form any wrong ideas about what our relationship was or could be. It hurt and I would be lying if I said it didn't feel a bit like a stab in the heart, but I was glad that he'd put me in my place before I made a fool of myself by making a move.

I knew I'd been getting ahead of myself anyway. I knew he was way out of my league, but he'd called me gorgeous and walked me home. He'd even given me a nickname. Maybe I'm just easy to impress, but it felt like he was interested. I guess being a big star in Hollywood requires a certain level of charm though and he was probably just used to being naturally flirtatious with most of the women he encounters.

I sighed as I let myself into my apartment and tossed my bag on the table by the door. I'd felt like the luckiest girl in the world only moments earlier and now I was back to feeling like I was a romantic lost cause. I dragged myself through the motions of getting ready for bed and flopped down on top of the blankets - it was too hot to be under them and I didn't have the luxury of air conditioning.

Perhaps it was for the best that Chris declined my invitation to come upstairs, I thought to myself. This apartment was hardly up to Hollywood standards, it was hardly up to my own standards even if it was all that I could afford.

As my head laid on the pillow and my heart sat heavy in my chest, I told myself that it was fine. If Chris wanted to just be friends then I would be grateful that he even wanted that. I made a mental note to send him those pictures in the morning - because I'd promised to and not because I was curious to see what kind of response I would get when he was sober - and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of my new friend.

---

July 2016

And so, we were friends. Good friends, maybe even great friends.

I sent Chris the photos he’d asked for the day after we met and we spent most of that day messaging back and forth. Our friendship only grew from there and, whenever he was in town, we spent as much time together as we possibly could.

But we kept things very much friendly.

There was some flirtatious exchanges, but I respected his wishes and kept the feelings that I'd developed to myself.

My career really took off in the year after we met as well. That first Marvel photo shoot had gone incredibly well which led to several more contracts with them as well as other high profile jobs. It was a long, busy year, but I was grateful and relished in my success.

I'd even managed to move into a new apartment in a much nicer neighbourhood which felt like quite a big achievement and had finally silenced Chris' fretting about my safety. I moved in May, but our busy schedules kept him from seeing my upgraded home for himself until that summer, almost a year after we met. He was returning to L.A. from a trip home to Massachusetts and we hadn't seen each other in months so I was very eager for our reunion. Despite the fact that were still in constant communication, I'd missed him terribly and had been counting down the minutes until he would be arriving at my place.

"So," My friend's voiced echoed through my phone from where it sat on the bathroom counter while I finished curling my hair into beachy waves. "Are you going to finally make a move tonight?"

"No," I scoffed. "Of course not, Hannah. I've not seen him in a while now, I want us to have a good time. I don't want to make him uncomfortable and ruin everything."

"I will bet you a thousand dollars that it wouldn't ruin everything," she insisted. "Honestly, I will give you a thousand dollars if you make a move tonight and it goes badly."

I rolled my eyes as I finished the last curly wave and reached for my hairspray.

"You can't put a price on my friendship with Chris."

"Oh my god," she groaned. "He's told you that he thinks you're gorgeous, he makes time to hang out with you whenever he can and he texts you every single day. He treats you better than any boyfriend you've ever had. How can you think he doesn't have feelings for you?"

I took a moment to spray my hair and give myself one last look over before taking her off speaker and answering the question as I walked towards my kitchen.

"Because he straight up told me that he wants to be friends," I reminded her. "And he's never given me any other signs that he's interested in anything more."

"He doesn't need to give you any signs. When someone looks at you the way that he looks at you that says enough."

"Well, I'm going to need him to say a little more."

Another groan came through the phone as the buzzer to my apartment rang.

"You're impossible."

"I know, I know, and my lack of self-esteem will make me die alone," I said, repeating the words she'd told me a hundred times. "But he's here now, so you're going to have to save your criticisms for another time."

"Just tell him how you feel," she huffed. "I expect a full report in the morning."

The buzzer rang again as I agreed and said my goodbyes to my friend. I took a deep breath and a moment to push Hannah's words from my mind before pressing the button on the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Win, it's me! Let me up."

I pressed the button to unlock the door and felt my lips slide into a cheek aching grin just from the sound of his voice. It had been too long since we'd had a chance to hang out and I was very much looking forward to a nice evening together.

It took him barely a minute to get up to my apartment, knocking twice before letting himself in.

"Hey!" I grinned, rushing towards him as he held his arms open. I threw mine around him as soon as I was close enough and squeezed him tightly. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too," he smiled. "Nice place you got here, someone's doing well for themselves."

"Oh, please," I giggled, slipping out of his arms. "I've seen your house, Mr. Evans. This is a dump compared to where you live."

"Nah, this place is great!"

"It's definitely an improvement," I admitted as I led him towards the kitchen. "Would you like a drink? I bought that beer you like."

"You didn't have to do that. I would have been fine with whatever you have in," he chided me, but I waved him off and assured him it was fine. "What's the plan for tonight anyway?"

I shrugged as I opened the fridge to get a beer out for him and a bottle of wine for myself.

"I don't mind. Do you want to go out for drinks later or just stay here? It is a Saturday so everywhere around here will be packed with women in their early twenties if you'd like your ego stroked a bit."

I was referring to the last time we'd gone out and made the mistake of going to a bar that turned out to be pretty unfriendly to celebrities. A lot of places in L.A. made it easy for celebrities to go under the radar, but the place we'd gone to apparently wasn't one of them. There was a steady stream of beautiful young women trying their luck with Chris all night until we eventually fled and went back to his place just to give him some peace.

Chris laughed, clearly understanding what I was referencing, but he shook his head.

"Honestly? I'd prefer to stay in tonight," he admitted, but a smirk slid onto his face as he very obviously gave me a once over. "But you got all dressed up and it would be a shame to waste an outfit like that on a night in."

"Oh, this old thing?" I glanced down at the short black sundress I was wearing, a blush covering my cheeks from his compliment. "I just put this on in case we did decide to go out, but staying in sounds good to me. I'm well stocked with supplies."

I gestured to the wine and beer on the counter and the few bottles of hard liquor behind them.

"Then we'll stay in?"

"Sure," I nodded as a thought hit me and I gasped with excitement. "Oh, we can sit on my balcony! It over looks the park and I just got a new little couch for it."

"Very fancy," Chris laughed. "You really are doing well for yourself."

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. "I don’t think Ikea patio furniture is a particularly high aspiration for anyone."

"Don't sell yourself short! You're finally getting recognition for your talent and that's worth celebrating."

I smiled as I led him through the living room and opened the door to my balcony with a flourish. The heat of July in California hit us immediately, but the balcony was shaded which made it a more reasonable temperature.

"This is nice," Chris nodded approvingly. "Well done, Winnie."

He sat on the couch and held his beer up towards me. I gently clinked my glass against it before sitting next to him. I thanked him once I was settled, hiding the width of my grin with my glass as I took a sip.

"So, how was Massachusetts?" I asked, curling my feet underneath me. "Do you have much more time off or are you back at it pretty quick?"

"I've actually got some time off," Chris informed me. "I think I'll probably spend most of it back home. It was great being there the last few weeks. It just feels better than L.A."

"Most places probably feel better than L.A.," I pointed out with a scoff. "This place is exhausting."

"You should come visit some time," Chris suggested before flashing me a smirk. "I feel bad leaving you here when I'm clearly your only friend."

"Excuse me, that is not true!" I protested, my jaw dropping at his insult as he chuckled at his own joke. "I have plenty of friends, thank you very much. All those liquor bottles on the counter are leftover from my very crowded house-warming party."

"Oh, no, Winnie," he laughed, his hand coming up to his chest. "Don't try and provide evidence that you have friends. That makes you seem even more pathetic."

"More pathetic than what? I have friends!"

"Imaginary ones don't count."

I couldn't help, but laugh at that insult as I shook my head.

"You're so rude. I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because you have no one else." He shot me a very over the top look of pity until I swatted his arm and he dissolved into laughter again. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Seriously though, you should come out to Massachusetts sometime. I'll show you around."

"That would be fun," I agreed. "I'm pretty busy with work over the summer, but I think I'm in New York for a shoot in September. I could maybe tie a trip in with that if you're still out there."

"I should be if nothing else comes up," Chris nodded. "And fall is a great time to come. It's gorgeous."

"I bet. It would be nice to experience a season instead of just this sweltering L.A. heat all the time."

I made a face to emphasize my point as I sipped my drink and Chris eyed me suspiciously.

"I can't help, but get the impression that you're not loving it here at the moment..."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Not really. I thought moving into a better apartment would help, but I'm just kinda tired of it, I guess."

"It can be draining here," he nodded. "Have you thought about moving somewhere else?"

I sighed and shook my head.

"Not really. I'd miss my family too much. I'd have to have a good reason, I think, or know someone wherever I was going."

"Well, you'll always know someone in Massachusetts," he smiled. "And my Ma would love you. I'm sure she'd take you in right away."

"Awe, Mama Evans. I'd love to meet her...Mostly so I could demand an apology for her part in raising such a horrible man."

Chris threw his head back with another chest grab worthy laugh.

"Oh man, I know. My brother is pretty awful."

I snorted a laugh at his comeback, but shook my head.

"Scott was delightful the few times I met him," I informed him. "I was clearly talking about you."

"Me?!" He gasped dramatically. "What are you talking about? I'm a total gentleman."

"Imaginary friends don't count," I repeated his words back to him in a very bad impression of his deep voice and Boston accent. "Yeah, you're such a gentleman."

"It's called a joke, Winnie," he teased. "Try having a sense of humour."

I stuck my tongue out at him in response, but I had to admit that the teasing was nice. I really had missed him while he was away and I was relieved that we fell back together so naturally that it was like we'd never been apart.

-

Our conversation continued to flow well into the night and so did our drinks. A few hours later and several alcoholic beverages down, the temperature was starting to drop a bit as the sun set, but our conversation was just starting to heat up.

"So," Chris turned to me with a smirk as he sipped the tequila sunrise I'd just made for him. He'd sworn he wouldn't like it, that it would be too sweet, but apparently he was too tipsy to really care. "How's your love life these days? Any more trips to Hooters?"

I snorted a laugh as I shook my head.

"I need more alcohol if we're going to delve into my love life."

Mostly because the biggest detriment to my romantic life was currently sitting on the couch with me, but I wasn't going to volunteer that information. Chris nudged the bottom of the glass in my hand, gently enough not to spill any but firmly enough to lift it slightly.

"Drink up then because I'm curious. Especially after a statement like that."

The irony of someone who was very vocal about how much they hated being constantly interrogated and harassed about their love life trying to do that exact thing to me wasn't lost on me, but I knew he'd keep pestering me until I opened up. I did as Chris suggested and took a large swig of my drink before answering him.

"No, there hasn't been any more dates at Hooters lately," I assured him. "But I did go on a date last week that was disappointing in it's own way."

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? How so?"

"He turned out to be a Robert Downey Jr. fanboy," I admitted, rolling my eyes as Chris let out a laugh. "It was going well until I made the mistake of mentioning that he's my uncle. He wouldn't shut up about him - stop laughing! - It was awful. Honestly, he went on and on! I eventually asked him if he'd rather be on a date with my uncle than me."

"And what did he say?"

I scowled at the memory.

"He said yes and asked for his number." That admission drew another howl of laughter from Chris and I couldn't help, but giggle along with him despite my shaking head. "Honestly, Chris, it's not funny. I have the worst luck."

"You have the worst taste in men." He corrected and I wondered briefly if he'd be less confident in that statement if he knew that he was my taste, even more so when he continued. "You're only interested in the douchey guys and then you're always shocked when they act like assholes."

"That is so not true!" I protested. "How am I supposed to know they're going to be douche bags? We talk for like two days on a dating app before we meet up and they always seem normal!"

"What was this one's job?"

I cringed and took another big swig of my drink.

"A club promoter."

"Exactly!" Chris groaned. "And hadn't the one before him quit his job to try and get famous on YouTube?"

"Instagram," I corrected. "But, so what? I struggled for a long time before my career went anywhere. You can't judge people by something like that."

"For the most part, I agree with you," Chris nodded. "But there are some careers that only attract a certain kind of person."

I huffed at his logic, but there was some truth to what he was saying.

"Dating is just hard these days," I insisted. "Besides, from what I've seen online lately, you're one to talk about messy relationships."

Now it was Chris' turn to take a gulp of the drink in his hand as he raised an eyebrow at my claim.

"Everything you read about me is bullshit, you know that. I haven't dated anyone lately, people just like to make things up."

"Oh, what I was reading the other day wasn't really about who you were dating."

That got his attention as he shot me a surprised look.

"What was it about then?"

"I thought it was all bullshit?" I smirked. "Does it matter what it was if it's not true?"

Chris shrugged.

"Even if it's not true, I like to know what people are saying about me."

"And you don't have a team to provide you with that information?"

"I do," he nodded. "But they don't tell me everything so I'd love to know what you read."

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling shy about disclosing what I'd seen. I took a moment to figure out how to say it before telling him.

"I stumbled across an article that claimed an anonymous source, who recently spent the night with you, told them that you are not particularly skilled at going down on a woman."

Chris' jaw dropped and I couldn't help, but laugh again at the outrage on his face.

"That's fuckin' bullshit!" He protested. "Why would anyone believe an anonymous source? It's obviously not true! Why would they even write that?"

I smirked again as I tried to hold back the laughter bubbling up inside me. Of course, I didn't believe an anonymous source and I felt bad for Chris that mean rumours like that were being spread around the internet, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to tease him about it anyway.

"I don't know. She must have had some kind of proof, they wouldn't have published it without fact checking."

"They absolutely would!" Chris laughed incredulously. "They publish anything that gets clicks!"

I shrugged and tried to stifle the giggles still fighting to come out.

"It seemed pretty believable to me. I'm not trying to be mean, but maybe just take the criticism and use it to grow."

"I don't need to use it to grow!" He insisted. "I have plenty of skills in that area, I've never had any complaints."

"Until now."

"It's not true!"

"Unfortunately, I'll never know..."

I froze, hearing my words echo through my head as Chris' eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment before a twinkle appeared. It was a simple statement, but we both picked up on what it implied, especially with the hint of intrigue, almost challenge, in my voice.

Chris tossed back the last of his drink and then shifted, sitting up a bit straighter as the look of annoyance on his face had changed into something almost cocky. I took a sip of my own drink, hoping to drown the nerves that were bubbling in my stomach as the cool evening breeze suddenly did nothing to ease the heat that surrounded us.

"Well, how am I suppose to prove it to you?"

He moved his hand until it was resting on my knee and I had to stifle a gasp at the sensation. We were fairly affectionate and much more touchy with each other than many friends were, but this felt different. There was a tension between us now and I swallowed hard, not wanting the alcohol in my system to make me misinterpret anything.

"I don't know." I bit my lip as he stared me down, a smirk back on his face now. "Why don't you de-describe it?"

Demonstrate.

Demonstrate was the word that I was looking for, the word that was on the tip of my tongue.

Describe was not quite as flirtatious. It was like I'd just set him some kind of essay assignment. I cringed, but Chris was unfazed as he chuckled and nodded his head.

"Alright," he shrugged. "Where should I start?"

Before I even had time to answer, he began his explanation.

His voice was low as he spoke, sparing no detail. He described every kiss, every touch and every little tease. By the time he was describing how much he liked to watch whoever was he was pleasuring, looking up from where his face was buried to see her orgasm roll through her body, I was almost shamelessly panting. His hand was still on my leg, stroking higher and higher on my thigh and I felt more aroused from his words than I had from the last few sexual encounters that I'd had.

He was watching me when he finished speaking, a smirk on his face and his eyes narrowed in a seductive stare as I took a shaky breath.

It was now or never.

Tossing back the last of my drink, I put my glass on the table. Then, I took the glass in his hand and did the same.

He was watching me the whole time, meeting my eyes as I sat back on the couch. My mind was running a mile a minute as the gravity of the situation hit me, but I tried to push all thoughts of doubt from my head as I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes flicked down to watch the movement and that was all the confirmation I needed.

I darted forward fast enough that I wouldn't have time to change my mind and pressed my lips against his.

There was a brief moment when he froze. I felt his hand tense on my thigh and his body seemed more rigid than it had moments ago, but he recovered quickly and a low growl came from his throat before his hands moved to my waist and effortlessly lifted me into his lap.

I gasped at the movement, momentarily taking my lips away from his, but before I could even mumble out any comments on his strength, he'd pressed our lips together again.

It was a sloppy kiss. Spurred on by our mounting tension and the panic bubbling inside me that any minute now he would change his mind and push me away in disgust, our movements were frantic and desperate. My hands slid around his neck, one moving up to the back of his head as if I needed to hold him in place, but his fingers digging into my waist made me think that he was having the same thought.

Eventually though, the need for air forced us apart and I rested my forehead against his as we fought to catch our breath. The pause in our actions gave my brain time to catch up to my body and I immediately felt the nerves kick in.

Logically, I knew we should slow things down and talk about what this meant. My feelings for Chris went deeper than a drunken hook up and I was setting myself up for heartbreak if he wasn't on the same page. However, there was a more impulsive part of my brain that didn't care. I'd wanted this for so long, surely I deserved a chance to just enjoy it.

As if Chris could read my mind, his deep voice cut through my thoughts.

"Are we really doing this?"

I bit my lip, knowing this was the time to voice any concerns that I had, but as I stared into his eyes, I couldn't make myself jeopardize the moment.

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm in if you are?"

A smirk slid onto Chris' face as he nodded as well.

"I've been waiting almost a whole fuckin' year for this," he admitted. "I'm absolutely in."

I felt my heart flutter at his confession. If he'd been waiting for this as long as I had then that must have meant that we were on the same page. No one waits that long for a meaningless fuck, he would have made a move by now if there wasn't more to it.

In an effort to silence my overactive brain, I pressed my lips back against his which proved to be the perfect distraction. All worries and cares slipped from my mind as his tongue slipped back into my mouth and his hands drifted down to cup my ass. I could practically feel them burning through my thin dress and as they squeezed slightly, pressing my hips closer towards his, I could tell that my panties were already much damper than was probably reasonable.

But the anticipation was practically killing me.

My body felt like it was on fire as every brush of his tongue, every caress of my skin, every sigh that fell from his lips against my mouth, had me writing against him like a cat in heat. Often, when I'd imagined what this moment would be like, I'd assumed it would be slow - we'd take our time and savour every touch - but I hadn't factored in just how desperate we'd both be or how quickly I would be filled with the absolute need for there to be less layers of fabric between us.

Chris sucked in a deep breath as his lips moved from mine, sliding lower to kiss along my jaw. I could feel a bulge growing between us, telling me that he was as overeager as I was so, as shivers tingled down my spine from the trail his mouth was taking, I fought through the distractions to speak.

"Chris," I panted. "Let's go inside."

His lips paused their movement as he nuzzled into my neck.

"Not much of an exhibitionist?"

"Not on the first date."

My words were teasing and a shrug of my shoulders accompanied my response, earning a chuckle from Chris.

"Alright, that's fair."

I nudged his head away from my skin so I could press another soft kiss to his lips.

My intention was to then climb off of his lap and lead him into my apartment, but he had other ideas as his hands slid under my thighs and his grip tightened. With one smooth motion and an impressive show of strength, he stood from the couch and lifted me up with him. I gasped and rushed to wrap my legs around his waist for stability, but the smirk on his face and the bulge of his bicep told me that it probably wasn't necessary. He was incredibly strong and it sent another flush of arousal through me at the thought of the beautifully sculpted physique under his clothes.

"Are you bulking up for Cap again?"

I mumbled the words in an attempt to keep my mind busy and stop myself before I started rubbing myself against his stomach. With the way my legs were positioned there was merely a shirt and my panties between us and it was entirely too tempting.

"Nah, got a month or two before that starts again," he informed me, quirking an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

I pointed him towards the door of my bedroom before answering as I tried to keep the shock out of my voice.

"So, you're like, always this strong?"

Chris chuckled slightly as he kicked my bedroom door open.

"Well, I'm no club promoter," he teased. "But I do tend to stay at a certain level of fitness for when the job does require it."

My jaw dropped at his audacity to bring that up again at a moment like this, but I couldn't stop the snort of laughter that slipped out.

"Shut up," I demanded, letting my thumb stroke against the soft skin on the back of his neck. "Before I come to my senses and ask you to leave."

Now it was Chris' turn to laugh as he gently tossed me onto the bed before crawling over me like a lion stalking it's prey.

"C'mon," he smirked as he hovered over me. "I think we both know that the last thing you want me to do right now is leave."

With that, he pressed his lips back against mine before I had chance to argue. Not that I would have, because he was absolutely right. There was a long list of things I wanted him to do, but leaving was not one of them. In fact, as I let my arms slid over his toned shoulders, I pulled him even closer.

I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to hear every little grunt and moan, I wanted to feel every inch of his body against mine, I wanted to see his muscles quiver and twitch with pleasure, I wanted him inside me and we'd barely even started. A year of waiting would make anyone desperate and, as much as I was revelling in his talented mouth as it moved against my own, I was eager to see what else he could do with it.

Sliding my hands down along his back, I ran them over his waist until they were at the hem of his shirt and, in an attempt to move things along, I slid them back up over his stomach, bringing his shirt with them. I paused, taking a moment to trace over his abs and he chuckled, moving his lips down to nuzzle them into my neck.

"That tickles," he mumbled against my skin as I smiled.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that these muscles are real."

"They are," he smiled up at me. "Are you impressed?"

"Maybe a little," I admitted with a smile of my own. "I'll be more impressed if you get these clothes out of the way and let me admire you properly."

He chuckled again, but didn't fight as I pulled his shirt over his head. The light in the room was dim and the way we were positioned didn't give me an optimal view, but what I could see was enough to draw a soft gasp from my lips.

I'd seen him shirtless and in even less from a few sneaky Google searches and watching his old movies, but seeing it all right in front of me was quite a treat. I had to double check that I wasn't drooling at the sight as I openly stared, my mouth slightly agape.

I realized I was probably ogling him a little too long when a faint blush covered his cheeks and he ducked his head back against my neck. He placed another soft kiss against my skin before he spoke.

"Now, it's your turn."

"Okay," I agreed, swallowing hard. "But just keep in mind that I don't look like that."

I ran my hands up and down his sides to emphasize what I was referring to and I felt more than heard him chuckle as he peered up at me once more.

"I'd be disappointed if we had the same upper body," he teased. "I mean, if I'm being honest."

I rolled my eyes despite the smile on my face.

"You know what I mean," I insisted. "I'm not sculpted by the Gods like you are."

His head fell back against my shoulder as he shook with laughter before shaking his head.

"You have nothing to worry about," he assured me. "You're too hard on yourself. You're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words took me back to the first night we met as the sincerity in his voice was the same as it had been back then. And there was something about the confidence with which he spoke that had me believing him.

So, as his hands slid under my dress - teasing the outside of my thighs in a way that had me biting my lip to force back a moan - I pushed any negative thoughts or doubts about myself from my mind. I even felt a hint of pride when my dress was discarded, exposing my lack of bra, and making Chris' eyes darken as they scoured over my body.

"Fuck, Winnie," he groaned as he soaked in the sight of my exposed chest. "You're beautiful."

I felt my heart flutter at the genuine awe in his voice and at his word choice. Gorgeous, hot, sexy - those are all compliments I would have loved to receive from him, but beautiful. It seemed deeper, more romantic. There was a brief reminder from the voice in my head that perhaps the importance of such a simple word was a signal I shouldn't be moving forward with this without having a very serious conversation about feelings first, but I was quick to ignore it as I pulled Chris back to my lips.

It seemed he was as desperate to move things along as I was though as his mouth didn't linger against mine for very long before it was trailing a path down my neck. He paused when he got to my chest, letting out a groan as he nuzzled the skin before sucking it just hard enough to leave a faint mark when he moved back. The sight had me squirming beneath him and he shot me a smirk before moving his lips to my nipple.

Gasping at the sensation, I arched up towards him as he continued to nip and tease me. If his current actions were anything to go by then whoever wrote the article that I read was very sorely mistaken. He appeared to be incredibly talented with his mouth and by the time he moved away from my nipple to continue his path down my body, my chest was heaving and I was sure that I was just one gentle touch away from my peak.

However, I was disappointed when he got to the top of my panties and, after licking along the skin of my lower stomach, pushed himself up and moved off of me to stand at the foot of my bed. I whined in protest, wanting him as close to me as possible, but all I got was a smirk in response.

"Patience," he mumbled as he unbuttoned his jeans.

I wanted to pout, to argue that I'd been patient enough in the last year, but any complaints died on my tongue as he pushed his jeans to the floor. As he stood in front of me, only in his underwear, my sense of urgency was replaced by an appreciation for the chance to admire his chiselled body. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better view and he chuckled at the look of wonder that I was sure was on my face.

His underwear was the next thing to go and the anticipation turned quickly to shock as my jaw dropped at what he revealed. I could have assumed from the large bulge that he was quite well-endowed, but seeing it confirmed sent a whole new flush of arousal through me. I mumbled out a 'wow' as I bit my lip and tried to take it all in - he truly was a gorgeous man.

"Like what you see?"

His question snapped me out of my daze as he knelt back down on the end of the bed.

"Very much so," I nodded, desperate to feel his body over mine once again. "Come back up here."

"No," Chris grinned as he ducked down to place a kiss on my ankle. "Not yet."

Again, part of me wanted to argue and demand that he return his mouth to mine and get things moving, but before I could even open my mouth, he made his intentions clear - by tracing his fingers up my leg with his lips close behind.

I was quivering under his touch, still leaning up on my elbows when he reached the edge of the panties I was wearing. He glanced up at me as he licked along the lace before he bit into the material and tugged. I lifted my hips to ease his struggle as he yanked my panties down my legs with his teeth. The sight of it had me squeezing my thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction, but as soon as my underwear joined the rest of our clothes on the floor, he was quick to pull my legs apart again.

"Keep 'em open for me," he demanded, that damn smirk still firmly on his face. "I've got something to prove."

I giggled at that statement, but did as he asked. I was still watching his movements, until he dipped his head forehead and pressed his lips against me. That first moment of contact was enough to have my head flopping back against the pillows as my hands shot down to grip his hair. I was vaguely aware of him mumbling something about how wet I was, but my brain was too busy trying to process the pleasure he was giving me to take in his words.

He wasted no time demonstrating everything that he'd described to me earlier that night. His tongue was focused and precise in its movements and, contrary to what I read, he clearly knew what he was doing as he easily narrowed in on my clit. It wasn't enough though. I needed more pressure, more friction, and I pushed up towards him with a moan on my lips to urge him on. He wasn't having any of that as his hands looped under my thighs to settle on my hips, holding me in place, but he increased the pressure as he apparently understood what I needed despite my lack of ability to verbalize it.

I immediately felt a familiar feeling starting to build.

He sucked and licked with an urgency that I very much appreciated, flicking his tongue in just the right spot at just the right speed to have me trembling beneath him. I managed to gasp out a warning 'oh god' as my hands gripped his hair even tighter and I fell apart into a puddle of whimpers and moans. My orgasm hit me more fiercely than I'd imagined in my wildest fantasies of this moment and I arched up against him, his name pouring from my lips like a chant as he continued his efforts with a low groan of his own only adding to my pleasure.

As my breathing started to slow, Chris gently ceased his movements and moved his head back before resting his chin on my thigh. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked up at me.

"Well?"

"I'm going to write my own article," I told him, feeling that wonderful post peak bliss wash over me. "Because someone was obviously very misinformed."

Chris chuckled before pulling his hands from my hips to plant them on the bed and drag himself back over me.

"I'm glad I exceeded expectations."

"Mhmm," I hummed in agreement as his lips hovered above mine. "Now, let's see what else you can do."

Chris flashed me a smile and kissed me briefly before leaning back just enough to reach down and take his cock in his hand. Another moan fell from my lips as he rubbed it against me for a moment before nudging against my entrance and finally pressing inside. He moved slowly, but even so, I winced at the sensation. The slight burn as I stretched around him felt good but there was an undeniable ache as well. Sensing my hesitation, Chris paused and dropped his head for another soft kiss. I waited a moment, until the initial spark of discomfort had passed before pressing my hips up towards him.

He took the hint and continued his slow, almost torturous, movement until he was fully inside. The burning pain returned as it felt like he was taking up every inch of space I had to offer, but it felt incredible.

"Fuck," he breathed against my neck where his head had settled again. "You're tight..."

He shifted his hips pulling another gasp from my lips.

"Only because you're huge."

I felt a puff of laughter before he nipped at my shoulder.

"Thank you."

I would have smacked him for his cocky tone, but he moved then and suddenly my mind was blank of anything other than how good it felt. His movements were slow at first, every thrust dragging every inch of him against every nerve inside me, but his restraint quickly waned as his pace increased.

I let out a moan as my head fell back against the pillows and I hitched my leg higher on his hip. He moved his hand to the back of my thigh to hold it in place as he built a steady rhythm that had us both panting as I fought to match his thrusts. My fingers dug into his shoulders as his short beard rubbed against my skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was like he was completely encompassing me, smothering all of my senses and I could feel the pressure building again in the pit of my stomach in a way that it all felt like too much, but not enough all at the same time. I clenched around him, earning a groan of approval from Chris as I swore I could feel him twitch inside me. The pleasure was building quickly and his thrusts got sloppier and more frantic until suddenly he pulled out of me completely.

I felt empty and immediately wanted him back inside of me, my disappointment only growing as he pushed himself up to kneel back on his heels. The only compensation was how good he looked, muscles tight and his cock hard, practically throbbing and shiny from my being drenched in my wetness.

"Turn over," he instructed, his raspy voice bringing me back to the task at hand.

It took a moment for me to process his words, but I giggled as soon as I did.

"What?" He asked, a smile on his face.

"Nothing," I laughed again as I pushed myself up to do as he asked. "You just really are 'clearly' an ass man."

A look of realization crossed his face as he cringed slightly, his hand pausing from where he had reached down to stroke himself. I settled on my knees with my back to him as he answered.

"You heard about that?"

He was referring to the comments that he made on Anna Faris' podcast and I nodded my head.

"Everyone heard about that," I teased.

He chuckled, but didn't deny it as I leaned forward to rest on my hands. The wetness between my legs felt cool from the air in the room and I suddenly felt very exposed, knowing what the view must look like from his position. Again, my worries were brief though as his hands settled on my ass, kneading and squeezing as he let out a low groan.

"With an ass like this though, can you blame me?" He asked, sliding the fingers of one hand down towards the part of me that was practically throbbing with need. My head fell forward as he gently brushed over my clit before sinking two fingers inside me. It wasn't enough, not after the stretch of his cock, but he moved them with almost criminal precision against a spot that made me tense as I moaned with pleasure. "You've been drivin' me wild ever since that night we met. Those black jeans were so tight, it was like you were poured into 'em."

His words were muttered low and quiet and as much as I appreciated the compliment, I was such a puddle of mush from the movement of his fingers that I couldn't string together a sentence in response. He kept talking, whispering words of encouragement and adoration and it only added to my pleasure, but it wasn't until his thumb pressed against my clit that I felt myself start to bubble over. With a cry that I hoped served as a warning of my impending climax, I arched my back to press myself further towards him.

"Atta girl, Winnie..."

His breath was hot against the cheek of my ass and he continued his actions, placing a soft kiss on my skin. I was close, so close, but just not quite there until he did something that surprised me and sank his teeth into the spot his mouth was resting on. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it was enough to leave a mark and it was definitely enough to send me over the edge. Moaning out his name again as I pressed back towards him, I felt myself quivering around his fingers as the pleasure tore through my body.

My elbows were quaking with effort as they tried to hold me up while he kept his fingers gently working until my orgasm came to an end. I wasn't sure how much more I could take, but I knew I wanted him inside me again so I shot him a look over my shoulder.

"Chris," I panted. "Fuck me, please."

His eyes darkened at my request, but he wasted no time, quickly shifting until he was positioned behind me and sliding himself back inside. He felt even bigger in our new position and his need was made clear as his hands settled on my hips to use them as leverage, thrusting into me at a much more frantic pace than he had before.

The stretch and feel of him deep inside me had me moaning and arching my back once again, but I was doubtful that I would reach another peak - until Chris slid one of his hands from my hip, over my stomach and back down to my clit. The sensation combined with his movements and all the noises pouring from his mouth had a tightness in my stomach forming again with shocking speed. It was just shy of overwhelming as my two previous orgasms had left me feeling rather sensitive already, but when Chris picked up the pace even more, his grunts and groans getting more desperate, I leaned into the sensation. It only took a minute or two more before he finally pressed himself deep inside me, stilling as he let out a low moan and I followed him over the edge once more.

After a few final thrusts through his release, Chris leaned forward to press his chest against my back. I could feel how hard he was breathing and soaked in the moment of bliss until my arms finally gave out underneath me. We landed in a heap face down on the bed, but Chris quickly rolled off of me before pulling me tight against his side.

"Wow," he breathed out. "Winnie, that was...wow."

I smiled as I rested my head on his chest.

"It was," I agreed. "I take back any doubts about your abilities."

He chuckled and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"Thanks," he smiled as I peered up at him until he let a yawn slip out. "Mind if I stay here tonight?"

His question made my own smile widen even more.

"Of course not!"

He breathed out a sigh of relief at my words as I felt a wave of reassurance myself. He wanted to stay. He wasn't about to rush out the door the moment we were done and I filed that information away as more evidence that we were on the same page.

I felt like I should get up - to use the bathroom and offer my guest some water - but our activities had my whole body feeling like jelly. I was vaguely aware of a mumbled 'goodnight' from Chris, but I found myself drifting off to sleep before I could even respond.

-

The next morning as I slowly woke up, it took me a moment to remember why I was naked and why there was a pleasant, but very noticeable ache between my thighs. As the memory came back to me, a smile slid onto my face, but when I rolled over to find the bed empty, a flicker of worry sparked in the pit of my stomach. Especially when a glance at the clock told me that it was only seven in the morning. We couldn't have fallen asleep much before one so there was no good reason for him to be out of bed already.

I called out his name, hopeful that he would respond, but I wasn't entirely surprised when he didn't. The dread I was feeling intensified at the silence around me and I dragged myself out of bed with the intention of checking if he was in the bathroom or perhaps back out on the balcony. However, the sight of what was on the floor, or more accurately what wasn’t on the floor, made me pause. My dress and panties were laying where they'd been tossed, but his clothes were no where to be seen.

Trying to keep a level head, I quickly pulled on the oversized shirt that I usually slept in and ventured out of my bedroom, but my fears were quickly confirmed. My apartment was empty.

At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt as I desperately tried to rationalize his disappearance. Maybe he woke up early and went out to get us breakfast and coffee? The dull throbbing in my head told me that I could certainly use a good shot of caffeine and it was a pretty safe bet that he was feeling the same. But, when he didn't return after half an hour, I assumed that theory was just an optimistic wish.

After forty-five minutes of sitting on my couch, watching the door - willing it to open and for Chris to appear - I sent him a text. I tried to keep it low key and chill, but after another hour of staring at my phone, the words "Hey, where'd you go?" started to seem more and more desperate.

By ten o'clock with no response and no sign of Chris returning, I accepted the situation for what it was.

He wasn't coming back.

It was a drunken mistake that he clearly regretted.

We'd risked our entire relationship for one night of wonderful, incredible, but meaningless sex and he didn't even have the guts to stick around long enough to talk to me about it.

One stupid night and I'd lost one of my best friends.

The thought brought tears to my eyes and, before I could stop myself, I was blubbering like a baby as I curled up on my couch. I was devastated and heartbroken. I'd let myself believe that maybe he wanted me the same way that I wanted him because we were so close and I never would have imagined that he would let it go that far just to ditch me in the morning without even a goodbye. Surely, after a year of such strong friendship, I deserved more than that.

But no matter how stupid and naive I felt in that moment, nothing would compare to the level of utter foolishness I felt later that day when I was tiding up and realized that there wasn't a condom in sight.

-

Part Two

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans one shot #once bitten/more hearts

[geckosong]

Anime Recommendations

Here is a list of ten anime (in no particular order) that are definitely worth watching, yet don’t seem to get nearly as much recognition as they deserve. 

Terror in Resonance (2014)

This is my personal favorite anime and I push people to watch it whenever I can, which is exactly what I’m doing here.

This show is set-in present-day Tokyo, which has been decimated by a terrorist attack, and the only hint to the identities of the culprits is a bizarre video uploaded on the internet. For the majority of the show the plot follows two different narratives: those of the investigators tasked with bringing down the terrorists, and of the terrorists themselves.

           My Rating: 10/10

Toilet-Bound Hanako-Kun (2020)

This anime is probably one of my favorites, if not my number one, in terms of art style. I love everything about the character designs and the colors used. It is just so soothing to look at.

The famous "Seven Wonders" that every school seems to have are a staple of Japanese urban legends. One of the most well-known of these tales is that of Hanako-san: Rumors claim that if one successfully manages to summon Hanako-san, the ghost of a young girl who haunts the school's bathrooms, she will grant her summoner any wish. When Nene Yashiro, a girl hoping for romantic fortune, dares to summon Hanako-san, she discovers that the rumored "girl" is actually a boy! After a series of unfortunate events involving Nene's romantic desires, she is unwillingly entangled in the world of the supernatural, becoming Hanako-kun's assistant. Soon, she finds out about Hanako-kun's lesser-known duty: maintaining the fragile balance between mortals and apparitions.

My Rating: 8/10

Kids on the Slope (2012)

If you love jazz, or history, or even heartwarming tales of friendship then this is the show for you. I will admit that is has a bit of a slow start, but by the time you get to the end you’ll be wishing for more.

In 1966, introverted classical pianist and top student Kaoru Nishimi has just arrived in Kyushu for his first year of high school. Having constantly moved from place to place since his childhood, he abandons all hope of fitting in, preparing himself for another lonely, meaningless year. That is, until he encounters the notorious delinquent Sentarou Kawabuchi.    

Sentarou's immeasurable love for jazz music inspires Kaoru to learn more about the genre, and as a result, he slowly starts to break out of his shell, making his very first friend. Kaoru begins playing the piano at after-school jazz sessions, located in the basement of fellow student Ritsuko Mukae's family-owned record shop. As he discovers the immense joy of using his musical talents to bring enjoyment to himself and others, Kaoru's summer might just crescendo into one that he will remember forever.

My Rating: 6/10

Hyouka (2012)

Energy-conservative high school student Houtarou Oreki ends up with more than he bargained for when he signs up for the Classics Club at his sister's behest—especially when he realizes how deep-rooted the club's history really is. Begrudgingly, Oreki is dragged into an investigation concerning the 45-year-old mystery that surrounds the club room.

Accompanied by his fellow club members, the knowledgeable Satoshi Fukube, the stern but benign Mayaka Ibara, and the ever-curious Eru Chitanda, Oreki must combat deadlines and lack of information with resourcefulness and hidden talent, in order to not only find the truth buried beneath the dust of works created years before them, but of other small side cases as well.

           My Rating: 6/10

Tonari no Seki-Kun: The Master of Killing Time (2014)

I absolutely adore this show. The episodes are only about 8 minutes long, and there is very little talking, yet the story still comes through perfectly. It never fails to brighten my day when I’m feeling down.

All Rumi Yokoi wants to do is focus during school, but she is constantly distracted by Toshinari Seki, her neighboring classmate. Paying attention during class is the least of Seki's worries, as he obsesses over intricate setups created using an assortment of items, from an elaborate domino course on his desk to a treacherous war played out with shogi pieces. Yokoi desperately attempts to focus in class, only to be repeatedly sucked into his intriguing eccentricities; however, they always seem to end up with her getting in trouble with their teacher. Fortunately, lessons will never be dull with Seki's antics around!

           My Rating: 9/10

Classroom of the Elite (2017)

On the surface, Koudo Ikusei Senior High School is a utopia. The students enjoy an unparalleled amount of freedom, and it is ranked highly in Japan. However, the reality is less than ideal. Four classes, A through D, are ranked in order of merit, and only the top classes receive favorable treatment.

Kiyotaka Ayanokouji is a student of Class D, where the school dumps its worst. There he meets the unsociable Suzune Horikita, who believes she was placed in Class D by mistake and desires to climb all the way to Class A, and the seemingly amicable class idol Kikyou Kushida, whose aim is to make as many friends as possible.

While class membership is permanent, class rankings are not; students in lower ranked classes can rise in rankings if they score better than those in the top ones. Additionally, in Class D, there are no bars on what methods can be used to get ahead. In this cutthroat school, can they prevail against the odds and reach the top?

           My Rating: 7/10

The Morose Mononokean (2016)

The start of Hanae Ashiya's high school career has not been easy—he has spent all of the first week in the infirmary, and his inexplicable condition is only getting worse. The cause of his torment is the mysterious fuzzy creature that has attached itself to him ever since he stumbled upon it the day before school began.

As his health continues to decline and the creature grows in size, Hanae comes across a flyer advertising an exorcist who expels youkai. Desperate and with nothing left to lose, he calls the number and is led to the Mononokean, a tea room which suddenly appears next to the infirmary. A morose-sounding man, Haruitsuki Abeno, reluctantly helps Hanae but demands payment afterward. Much to Hanae's dismay, he cannot afford the fee and must become an employee at the Mononokean to work off his debt. And to make things worse, his new boss is actually one of his classmates. If Hanae ever hopes to settle his debt, he must work together with Abeno to guide a variety of dangerous, strange, and interesting youkai back to the Underworld.

           My Rating: 6/10

Beyond the Boundary (2013)

Another of my favorite aesthetically pleasing anime, this show has been the one that I show to friends who claim that anime cannot be beautiful (yes, several of my friends have actually said things along that line).

Mirai Kuriyama is the sole survivor of a clan of Spirit World warriors with the power to employ their blood as weapons. As such, Mirai is tasked with hunting down and killing "youmu"—creatures said to be the manifestation of negative human emotions. One day, while deep in thought on the school roof, Mirai comes across Akihito Kanbara, a rare half-breed of youmu in human form. In a panicked state, she plunges her blood saber into him only to realize that he's an immortal being. From then on, the two form an impromptu friendship that revolves around Mirai constantly trying to kill Akihito, in an effort to boost her own wavering confidence as a Spirit World warrior. Eventually, Akihito also manages to convince her to join the Literary Club, which houses two other powerful Spirit World warriors, Hiroomi and Mitsuki Nase.

As the group's bond strengthens, however, so does the tenacity of the youmu around them. Their misadventures will soon turn into a fight for survival as the inevitable release of the most powerful youmu, Beyond the Boundary, approaches.

           My Rating: 7/10

Mekakucity Actors (2014)

I think about this show far more than I’d like to admit. The way they bring different plot lines together continues to amaze me 6 years after watching it for the first time.

On the hot summer day of August 14, Shintarou Kisaragi is forced to leave his room for the first time in two years. While arguing with the cyber girl Ene who lives in his computer, Shintarou Kisaragi accidentally spills soda all over his keyboard. Though they try to find a replacement online, most stores are closed due to the Obon festival, leaving them with no other choice but to visit the local department store. Venturing outside makes Shintarou extremely anxious, but the thought of living without his computer is even worse. It's just his luck that on the day he finally goes out, he's caught in a terrifying hostage situation.

Luckily, a group of teenagers with mysterious eye powers, who call themselves the "Mekakushi Dan," assist Shintarou in resolving the situation. As a result, he is forced to join their group, along with Ene. Their abilities seem to be like pieces of a puzzle, connecting one another, and as each member's past is unveiled, the secret that ties them together is slowly brought to light.

           My Rating: 8/10

Angels of Death (2018)

You totally want to get emotionally attached to cereal killers, right? Of course you do, that’s why you should totally watch this anime.

With dead and lifeless eyes, Rachel Gardner wishes only to die. Waking up in the basement of a building, she has no idea how or why she's there. She stumbles across a bandaged murderer named Zack, who is trying to escape. After promising to kill her as soon as he is free, Rachel and Zack set out to ascend through the building floor by floor until they escape.

However, as they progress upward, they meet more twisted people, and all of them seem familiar with Rachel. What is her connection to the building, and why was she placed in it? Facing a new boss on each floor, can Rachel and Zack both achieve their wishes?

           My Rating: 7/10

Bonus: Stars Align (2019)

I am adding one extra because this anime deserves so much more than it got. I adore every single character in this show and want nothing but to see them be happy. There is so much I adore about this show that I can’t put it all into words. I would recommend you watch this so you can share in my rage that the story was cut off halfway through with no current plans of completing it. There is no manga. There is no way of knowing what happens next. This recommendation is entirely for the purpose of generating more public outcry in the hopes that that causes them to finish the show. Please anime gods, if you are reading this I need to know what happens to my smol tennis boys. Are they safe? Are they alright? 

Constantly outperformed by the girls' club, the boys' soft tennis club faces disbandment due to their poor skills and lack of positive results in matches. In desperate need of members,

Toma Shinjou is looking to recruit capable players, but he fails to scout anyone. Enter Maki Katsuragi, a new transfer student who demonstrates great reflexes when he catches a stray cat in his classroom, instantly capturing Toma's attention. With his interest piqued, Toma ambitiously asks Maki to join the boys' team but is quickly rejected, as Maki doesn't wish to join any clubs. Toma refuses to back down and ends up persuading Maki—only under the condition that Toma will pay him for his participation and cover other club expenses.

As Maki joins the team, his incredible form and quick learning allow him to immediately outshine the rest of the team. Although this gives rise to conflict among the boys, Maki challenges and pushes his fellow team members to not only keep up with his seemingly natural talent, but also drive them to devote themselves to the game they once neglected.

This story focuses on the potential of the boys' soft tennis club and their discovery of their own capability, while also enduring personal hardships and dealing with the darker side of growing up in middle school.

#anime #anime recommendation #zankyou no terror #terror in resonance #toilet bound hanako kun #kids on the slope #hyouka #tonari no seki kun #my neighbor seki #classroom of the elite #the morose mononokean #beyond the boundary #mekakucity actors #angels of death #stars align

[scribbleb-red]

i like your face - a morning au

“I’ll get the drinks,” Neil says as soon as they walk into Eden’s.

Andrew raises an eyebrow.

“No one needs to get stabbed tonight,” Neil says. “It’s Hapless Sam on the bar.”

“Spoilsport,” Andrew mutters, but doesn’t move with Neil when he heads to the bar.

Hapless Sam is the new barman helping Roland, stepping in for a few months whilst Ebony, the usual yin to Roland’s yang, is off to have surgery.

Hapless Sam is also the bane of Andrew’s life. He never gets a drinks order right. He constantly peppers them with bad one liners. He also once tried to pick up both Neil and Nicky and Aaron in one night - only stopping when Aaron suddenly duplicated and Andrew stuck a blade under his chin. After that, Roland stepped in.

But the bar was overrun tonight and if Andrew had to so much as look at Hapless Sam - well, someone is going to prison and someone is leaving in a body bag. And you don't need to be a genius to figure out which.

So Neil goes to the bar and Andrew keeps an eye on him - on the red of his hair, the sway of his hips, a new quirk that he had to know drove Andrew crazy. It should be illegal for someone like Neil to have any kind of rhythm - but Neil wasn’t a bad dancer. He was sinuous and unreal, if a little self conscious, and Andrew really really needed a drink before that happened again.

Because it will, promised the voice in his head. Nicky will never rest until Neil dances again. Even if it killed Andrew. He suspected it was partly because Nicky wanted him to dance too.

Neil came back an achingly long time later. There was something odd about the way he looked at Andrew, half a question hovering right beneath his skin.

He set down the tray and Nicky chitters, Aaron glowers, Kevin reaches forward expectantly.

But there’s a yell from the bar and Andrew looks up to see Roland’s furious face, Hapless Sam’s horror.

He catches Roland’s eye and the frantic look there - the way he's turned to stare at Andrew tells him everything.

“Don’t fucking drink anything,” he says to his table.

Aaron puts his glass down. Kevin looks torn but relents under Andrew's stare. Nicky frowns and leans back.

Neil however sways on the spot. His eyes are blown wide, two black pools ringed with the finest circle of ice blue. Andrew reaches for him and Neil reaches back. He looks sad and confused.

"N'drew..." he slurs, "Did I do su'thin bad?" There's a tinge of British in there, a twirl of French.

Andrew tugs Neil down beside him, stomach hollowing because he doesn't know what Neil's taken but it's clear he's taken something. Rage pools in the empty cavern of his chest. He goes to push Neil at Nicky - Roland clearly knows something and he wants answers - but Neil makes a noise in his throat and catches hold of Andrew's sleeve. Even high he's not crossing lines. Andrew aches with that knowledge.

"What did I do?" Neil asks again. "I don' have none secrets."

It takes a moment for Andrew to realise Neil thinks this was his fault. That in some part of this idiot's head, he believes Andrew would drug him again.

"It wasn't me," Andrew says, voice low. "You're okay Neil."

"Stay with Nicky, I'll talk to Roland." And probably gut Hapless Sam, whose fault it inevitably is.

Neil makes that whining noise again and Andrew wishes they didn't have an audience. "Don't wanna kiss Nicky."

"Who said anything about kissing?"

"Not Nicky. Only you."

Nicky's guilty look sets Andrew's teeth on edge.

Andrew needs to talk to Roland but can't leave Neil with the Monsters. Fortunately, Roland comes to them bearing a new tray of drinks and a harried expression.

"Fucking hell guys, I'm sorry. None of you drank those, right?"

"Don't worry Sammy's been banished to the kitchen, he's not doing anything like this again and--"

Andrew is up and in his face within seconds - pinioning Roland against the wall, arm across his throat, knife pricking his side.

"What has he taken?"

Roland notices Neil, gulps.

"It's a new syrup - they call it Goblin Juice and it looks just like lime cordial - Sam thought it was lime for the soda. Fuck Andrew do you need the knife? Ow fuck fuck fuck okay stop, it's made using shrooms. Non addictive. Just meant to make you happy - kinda soft."

But of course Neil was the one who drank it. If it had been any of the others, perhaps no one would have even noticed - maybe even celebrated the free high.

But Neil...

Kevin and Aaron are helping themselves to the new drinks when he lets Roland go. Nicky looks pale and nervous and is holding a shot but not drinking. Neil has flopped back on their sofa and is staring at Andrew, a wide smile on his face that Andrew immediately hates.

"I really like your face," Neil says when his brain catches up and realises Andrew is paying attention again. "You have a good face."

Andrew shoots daggers with his eyes at Roland and the barman flees, promising free drinks for the night and the next, forever, whenever.

Neil smiles and reaches for Andrew again as he comes back.

Andrew is not drunk enough for this shit, especially when Nicky coos. "Oh he's so cute. He should have gotten high sooner."

Andrew wants to warn his cousin to back off but Neil has wriggled around and nuzzled his face against Andrew's shoulder. It's heedlessly distracting. It's dangerously adorable.

"Do yous like my face Nyandrew?" Neil says. "I really really like yours. Look at your face. Hey is my head still attached?"

Andrew sees the way Neil is teetering, wraps his hand across the back of Neil's neck and tugs him close. It's not a hug. It's for the idiot's own safety that's all. However, apparently for sky-high-Neil, silence and gestures isn't an answer.

"You don't like my face?"

The slight tremble in Neil's voice is what makes Andrew swallow his frustration and reply. He can't stand that tremble. "I like your fucking face." "I like yours too." And then Neil's finger boops Andrew's cheek.

"Nose," he says. "Good nose."

For. Fucks. Sake.

But it's kind of hilarious (and ruinously cute) as Neil - gentle as a moth wing - strokes over Andrew's cheek and along his temple, finds the bridge of his nose and the swell of his lips.

"Good face."

Andrew contains himself by a miracle. He's fairly sure Aaron is filming this.

"If that footage goes anywhere but the trash, I'll fucking stab you."

"If you were going to stab me, you would have done it a long time ago brother."

"No stabbing," Neil says. "Too many witnesses. Oh hey, look at the fireflies."

Neil lifts one hand to the empty ceiling. There are no fireflies. This is Eden's. Andrew wants to take Neil home but doesn't think putting him in a car is going to do much good right about now.

"You like my face," Neil sighs and sits back. "Even all of this."

"Yes," Andrew says. "Because of all of this."

It's not the scars, it's because Neil survived. That he should have broken and yet still held himself together by tooth and claw.

"I didn't drug you," Andrew says, close to the shell of Neil's ear. "I promise."

"Okay," Neil says. "Good. I don't wanna kiss Nicky."

And there it is again, the second time Neil has mentioned this. Andrew looks at his cousin, who has escaped with Kevin onto the dancefloor.

They'll have a little chat later, when Neil isn't on another planet.

"You're the best," Neil says. "I'll kiss you."

"Not tonight."

Because even if Neil is warm and flush against him. Even if Neil is soft and pliant and willing. This is a man who has been drugged and cannot give consent. Hell, he's watching fireflies that don't exist and stroking Andrew's chin, like he's forgotten Andrew has teeth. Neil is not okay.

Aaron leans back in his chair. "If it's molly, he could be flying for hours."

"It's some kind of shroom shit."

"So even longer then."

Andrew's fingers tighten on Neil's shoulder. "So we can't wait this out?" He should have asked Roland that.

"Probably not, no. Take him home. I'll bring the others."

And for once Andrew decides to trust his brother. He gathers Neil and his loose limbs and leaves Aaron to manage Kevin and Nicky. It’s a one of the hardest things he’s ever done but Bee’s buzzing voice tells him it's time to let Aaron prove himself, standalone.

Neil is awful as they leave - smiling at everyone and everything, even things that aren’t there. His eyes shine and every time he looks at Andrew, there’s a draw of breathe like he’s never seen him before.

“You are,” Neil says, “the best thing. The abs’lute best thing. Hold me up and keep me sage, no safe. Mean safe. You me safe.”

And Neil cannot sing but his voice is sing song and full of wonder.

Andrew is going to gut Hapless Sam like a fish from chin to pelvis.

They drive home - slowly because Neil keeps getting distracted by things Andrew is doing, like blinking (your eyelashes are so white, like snow flakes Andrew) and breathing (but look how you move, so amazing). But Neil is so soft and happy and obsessed, it’s hard to be angry.

Columbia is dark, their house musty with absence. They’ve not visited for a while and Andrew had been hoping for something slightly different tonight.

Neil apparently had too. “Yes? Andrew? Yes?” He says.

“No,” Andrew says. And he never thought he’d hate seeing Neil obey - not with this - but there’s hurt and confusion and concern and a thousand layers of emotion on Neil’s face when he hears it this time. All the feelings Neil must usually keep tucked away when it isn’t always yes for Andrew.

Andrew relents, “Just this,” he says as he settles onto the sofa, guiding Neil down with him. Neil’s reaction is instant - dopey smile and arms that snake around Andrew in a loose but escapable hold.

“Warm,” he says. “Strong.”

The hours tick by in highs and lows - Neil is happy in phases, then almost crying in others. He tells Andrew things that cross his mind, about Andrew, about the Foxes and exy. He hides in Andrew’s hoody when he sees shadows crawling and is convinced they’re from his father.

Andrew does his best to soothe and protect - it’s all in Neil’s head and Andrew isn’t a soft man, but he keeps Neil close and lets him talk. A few years ago he couldn’t have done this. But a few years ago he and Neil were new and still cutting each other on their sharp edges.

Aaron herds an unhappy Nicky and an almost paralytic Kevin inside. Aaron seems sober but that could just be in comparison.

“Our cousin,” Aaron tells Andrew, “is a fool. But you care about him and shouldn’t kill him for doing what you asked.”

“What did he do?”

Aaron shrugs. “Just a kiss I believe. But might explain a bit more why your nut-job boyfriend knocked himself out that time.”

“That was cos imma liar,” Neil chimes with all the confidence of the truly seshed. “Liar liar liar.”

“Not anymore.”

“Yeah. Not with you.”

There's water and toast and Neil naps at one point but Andrew doesn't because he knows what's next - and he's right. Neil is sick for what feels like hours but isn't. Aaron brings more water. A small part of Andrew wonders if his twin actually likes seeing Neil so ridiculous.

Turns out he's right about that too.

Aaron tells him when Neil is hurling up his guts that seeing Neil like this, seeing Andrew with him like this, makes more sense than anything he's seen prior.

"You're everything to him." Aaron doesn't say that Neil is everything to Andrew but the implication is there.

And when Neil is finally in their bed, safe and asleep, Andrew calls Roland and leaves a warning. Hapless Sam had better be fired or there wouldn't be an Eden's Twilight.

He stays awake and stays awake. He falls asleep around 6am.

Neither of them stir until well into the afternoon and when Neil does, he buries his face in the pillows and groans.

"Oh my god. Andrew I'm so --"

"Shut up." Andrew doesn't want apologies for this. He sees the embarrassed pink of Neil's ears, the flush on his neck. "Stop."

Neil groans again and Andrew knows he must feel like shit right about now. That he's mortified. That he's worried. That Andrew has the power to make it right.

Something wicked flickers in his gut.

"Hey junkie," he says. "I like your face."

-The End-

Notes:

#morning au #andreil #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #post canon #all for the game #absolute fluff #even if there's accidently non-consensual drug use #it's not deliberate #no one is an asshole #neil is very soft and sappy #he really likes Andrew's face #eden's twilight #very very fluffy

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 3: The Assessment

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 7K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

Throughout the course of your life you had found that the more you dreaded something, the faster it arrived. As you sat in the waiting room, waiting for the call to go into the training center alone for your final assessment, you couldn’t help but think of just how fast the training process had gone by, and that in less than twenty-four hours you would be inside the dreaded arena.

During your knot tying session after your incident the on the first day, you had formed a slight friendship with Krystal, who had asked if everything was okay. You had lied, saying you were fine, too afraid of telling her the truth after Namjoon had just blown up on you, and she simply had nodded in acceptance. But you could tell she didn’t buy that answer from the way she seemed to treat you with a little extra kindness. You stuck to her like glue for the rest of the training period, refusing to separate within the career pack without Krystal by your side. It was an odd dependency given she was the smallest of the lot of you, but she had taken to it rather well. She never asked you about it, but immediately went along, making sure you were always by her side during any activity. You could tell Hoseok was furious – constantly shooting glares in Krystal’s direction – but there was nothing he could do without disrupting the whole alliance, and proving that he was indeed the psychopath he had revealed only to you in private.

You had spoken briefly to Finnick about things the night after the incident with Hoseok. As a mentor he wasn’t happy, but his hands were also tied as there was nothing he could do to interfere with another district. He had suggested he could speak to District 2’s mentor to try and get more information on Hoseok’s background but you had immediately shut that down, terrified that it would somehow get back to Hoseok and he would think you were reciprocating his own interest. The idea was also dangerous because it would expose just how threatened you were to their mentor, who could easily use that to their advantage when coming up with game tactics. Finnick had reluctantly agreed not to do anything, but turned the topic of conversation onto your remaining training time. He had suggested a focus on weapons, particularly knives given you already had some experience with them.

“Focus on what you already know,” he had said “Don’t waste time trying to learn new things that others are already experts with. You cannot hope to beat a master with only a few days of training. Hone the skills you already have.”

So that’s largely what you had spent the rest of your training time doing. By her own admission Krystal’s report card had suggested training with a weapon that could compliment her own agility, which worked out well with knives too, so you spent a lot of your time training together. You found out that despite being a District 1 tribute, she was also reaped, and not a volunteer, like yourself. But unlike you she had been trained at an academy, which was standard practice in 1. A far more interesting detail you had learned was she was Yoongi’s younger sister, and he had volunteered after her reaping. You filed that detail away in the back of your mind for future reference, grateful that some sort of partnership already existing in the alliance could potentially lessen the target on yourself later when it came to splitting.

You played off each other, regarding your knowledge of knives. Krystal was far more skilled in close range combat, and she gave you pointers when you trained in sparring using a prop version (made from a material of the same weight, which still caused some bruises, but wouldn’t actually cause stab wounds). She also helped you improve your skills in countering attacks and using a larger opponents’ body weight against them. Looking at Hoseok and Namjoon respectively you were terrified to know her lesson would very much be a life or death skill you needed to learn. In return you talked to her about your experiences with spear fishing and occasionally using a knife instead in shallow waters, passing on what you could about how to throw a knife. It was a skill you had picked up when you much younger, after being taught by your father when you were seven. Your mother had been furious when she found out and immediately banned you from knives until you were old enough to be working on the boat, but your father had still snuck in training sessions whenever the two of you were alone. It was never something you thought you would be using to potentially kill a human, rather than a salmon or tuna. You hadn’t even thought of it then, but it was likely his way of trying to prepare you for if your name was ever drawn from the reaping. Even though it was essentially impossible, a part of you desperately hoped you would survive in order to be able to thank your father in person.

You and Krystal worked well together, you had a natural chemistry, and both of you didn’t feel a need for wasting oxygen with meaningless small talk or chit chat. Your skills both complimented one another and you found yourself learning a lot. It wasn’t much of a bond from merely a couple of days, but you hoped whatever you had worked to build would translate into some sort of partnership in the arena.

The remaining of your training had passed as well as you could have hoped for right up until the final moments of the last day. You and Krystal had taken a bathroom break. Afterwards, when you were about to walk out of the washroom and back into the hallway outside, you could hear familiar voices beyond the door. Frowning, you opened the door just a crack to hear Namjoon talking to Yoongi, Hoseok and Athena.

“Seriously, she thinks you’re in love with her,” Namjoon laughed, clasping his hand on Hoseok’s shoulder. You felt the blood immediately drain from your face and a stone cold chill run throughout your body. You had seen Namjoon and Hoseok getting on better within the last day, but you weren’t expecting Namjoon to be at a level of already throwing you under the bus.

“Really? When did she say that?” you could hear Hoseok ask, although you couldn’t see him from the crack in the doorway.

“First day, back when she was in tears over that pathetic report,” Namjoon replied with a scoff. “Asked her what happened and she went on some crazed rant that you were going to save her. Honestly lost her mind on day one, why the hell we’re supposed to drag her around the arena is beyond me.”

“She’s not that bad, have you seen her throwing the knives with Krystal? Could be useful,” the only female voice had to have been Athena, and you made a mental note to thank her later.

“Please, she’s a baby. Wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly,” Namjoon scoffed. You wanted to storm out and show him how willing you would be to hurt him, but remembering a warning from Finnick held you back, ‘play along and act dumb so they think you trust them and are too stupid to make plans for yourself'. You couldn’t wait for the chance to stab Namjoon in the back at this rate.

“So why are we keeping her around then?” A bored voice you had rarely heard asked. That had to have been Yoongi.

“Her brains may be non-existent, but the empty head that carries her around isn’t too bad to look at. I say we keep her for the sponsors, get us some supplies from her capital fans. Maybe if we can get her to flash those perfect tits she’s covering up we can get extra out of them. Plus, if the arena gets cold I’m sure she can also make herself useful as a bed warmer too.” Your jaw dropped open at the vulgar way your supposed teammate was talking about you. You hadn’t even spoken to Namjoon since the incident on the first day, ignoring him whenever you were in the same living quarters and spending your training time with Krystal. Like hell you would be going anywhere near his ‘bed’ in the arena. Krystal looked equally as disgusted.

“Gross,” Athena deadpanned.

“What? It’s not like what I’m saying isn’t true, and it’s better her than you, right? Beautiful face, hot body, but not the sharpest tool in the shed. Throwing knives from a distance isn’t much of a threat in close combat so we can easily take her out at the end. Hey, Hoseok seeing she acts like you’re going to be her precious Romeo you can be the one to take care of our dear Juliet when the time co-” before you could snap and storm out to attack Namjoon yourself, Hoseok beat you to it. Like a viper, his hand shot out in lightning speed to grasp Namjoon by the throat and slam him into the nearest wall.

“Or how about I take care of you?” he practically purred, springing a jackknife he had somehow slipped into his clothing out and holding it against Namjoon’s throat, until you heard a scuffle of someone trying to pull him off. Yanking the bathroom door open you rushed out into the hallway, Krystal following quickly behind, to see Namjoon leaning against the wall rubbing his throat, as Athena and Yoongi restrained a livid Hoseok.

“What the hell is going on?” Krystal asked, looking between everyone. Even if you had overheard everything, you just stood there next to her, wanting to play up the ignorance they dismissed you as having.

Nobody answered, looking between each other as if waiting for them to be the first to talk. Of all people, it was surprisingly Yoongi to be the one to break the silence.

“Put that thing away,” Yoongi snapped, nodding at Hoseok’s flat knife. “Do you want us to all get beaten to a pulp by the guards before we even get to the arena?” Hoseok complied without any words, smoothly placing the knife back into a hidden pocket in the front of his pants.

“What the hell do we do now?” you asked, staring at the others. “A day before the games and a fight breaks out? How are we meant to work together in there?”

“Nothing changes,” Hoseok spoke. You frowned back, like hell nothing had changed.

“You just pulled a knife on my district partner,” you replied. You weren’t complaining but he didn’t need to know that.

“Nothing changes,” Namjoon repeated to your surprise.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. We’re men. Men fight. Shit happens but we get it out of our system. Logically we’re still each others best bet in the arena.” Namjoon continued. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling his eyes at the ‘men’ declaration.

“He’s right,” Hoseok agreed and all you could do was stare dumbly, wondering how the hell the two of them had gone from pulling a knife a second ago, to now suddenly agreeing.

“Like hell I’m leaving you, Athena isn’t leaving me, your district mate isn’t interested in leaving you either, and I assume Krystal has interests in working with you from all that training you’ve done together. Yoongi’s not going to leave his sister, so we’re all stuck together.”

“What if I don’t want to work with any of you?” you challenged.

Namjoon scoffed.

“If you really had the balls to walk away, you would’ve done it on day one. Especially given how I treated you when you were telling the truth.” You glared back at him for blatantly exposing you.

“If you split, you’re the easiest target for all the other tributes.” Hoseok stepped away from Yoongi and Athena to walk towards you. “That’s 18 other people trying to kill you, so you know I’m not going to let that happen. As I just told you, I’m not leaving you.”

You hadn’t heard much from Hoseok since that moment in the hallway on day one. A part of you had managed to convince yourself it was all a stunt, just like Namjoon had said, to psych you out and cause division in your alliance. Hearing him bluntly announce his intentions to the whole alliance, as he came to stand directly before you, caused the delusion to shatter.

“Leave her alone.” You were becoming so entranced by Hoseok’s presence that it took you a moment to process Krystal’s voice as she moved herself closer to you, standing so her shoulder was slightly in front of yours. Your heart momentarily warmed at the gesture before it was doused in the cold ice of your conscious as you remembered his sickening threats from the last time you and Hoseok were alone ‘I don’t care about the others… I’ll slaughter every one of them in cold blood… I’m going to kill them all for you baby and I’ll make you watch so you can see just how far I’ll go for you’

“No Krystal, don’t!” you cried in a panic as you reached out for Krystal and pulled her into a protective hug, putting your body in front of hers before Hoseok. “You don’t understand,” you whispered in a rush to try and explain. “He’s crazy, he said he was going to kill all of you. I tried to tell Namjoon and he didn’t believe me so I was too scared to tell anyone else, because I was scared you’d think I was crazy.”

You were trying not to cry, you couldn’t panic, you couldn’t be weak again like the state they had found you in last time, but it was so fucking hard. Why did you have to be reaped? Why did one of the tributes have to form an obsession with you? Why was your own district mate an asshole who had invalidated you when trying to protect the alliance? All you had wanted was to not be alone in the arena, and now you had a hope of someone you could trust and she was in danger because of you.

“It’s ok, I’m ok,” Krystal whispered back, patting your lower back reassuringly. But a sudden grasp on your waist from behind pulled you away, causing you to lose your hold on Krystal as you slammed backwards into a hard chest with a cry.

“Yoongi take care of your sister unless you want me taking care of her in the arena,” Hoseok’s voice hissed from behind your ears, making your blood run cold.

“No, don’t hurt her, please, please don’t hurt her,” you begged, twisting in Hoseok’s hold but his arms were locked around you tightly. Yoongi didn’t say a word, walking over to Krystal and putting his hand on her shoulder to lead her away. She initially moved to shake him off but you vigorously shook your head and mouthed ‘go’ to get her to leave.

“We’ll see you at the cornucopia tomorrow,” Yoongi turned back to say, before you exhaled in temporary relief as Krystal reluctantly left with her brother.

“Whatever you do with her, I don’t want any part of it. We’re aligned until six and then that’s it,” Athena sneered, drawing your attention over to her as she glared between Namjoon and Hoseok.

“Fine with me,” Hoseok shrugged. Namjoon who was now leaning casually against the wall merely nodded. You could swear you saw a torn look of sympathy from Athena in your direction, but it was gone in a second as she shook her head in disgust and walked off to re-join Krystal and Yoongi.

With Athena gone the tension that hung in the air was so thick it was suffocating. Namjoon continued to rest against the wall, his arms crossed over his wide chest watching as Hoseok still held you by the waist. With Krystal now safe with her brother away from him you realized there was no longer a need to stay compliant in his grip.

“Namjoon, help,” you hissed, trying to move your arms to shove Hoseok off but they were both pinned to your sides by his hold. Hoseok merely chuckled, instead flexing his muscles and causing his grip to tighten.

“No can do little dove,” Namjoon mocked with a pout, moving off from the wall to stand to his full height. “Your boyfriend here’s the one with the knife in his pocket, and I’m unarmed.”

Namjoon raised his hands in mock surrender, his long legs taking lazy steps to walk around the two of you. Hoseok turned, forcing you to turn with him, to avoid his back being left open. Namjoon ignored him, keeping his eyes on you.

“But don’t worry, because in that arena I’ll be armed, and I’ll take really good care of you then.”

“Like hell,” Hoseok scoffed causing Namjoon to laugh.

“Oh, would you look at the time?” Namjoon was now further down the corridor that separated the bathrooms from the training center, where he could see the large clock on the wall.

“Only five minutes left until end of training before they start preparing for our grading. I’ll leave you two alone for now, but don’t expect this generosity again from me in the arena, 2. I trust you won’t harm our little dove until then…”

And with that lingering comment, Namjoon was gone, abandoning you when you needed him.

You felt Hoseok’s arms beginning to loosen, briefly you thought he was going to release you. But instead you found yourself being turned around to face him and backed against the wall. Any thoughts of pushing him off vanished upon feeling the hard metal of the folded pocket knife pushing against your hip as he caged you in.

“What are you doi-” your question was cut off by Hoseok raising his hand to the side of your face and pushing his thumb over your mouth in warning.

For a moment Hoseok was still. He relished the feeling of your plump lips falling silent beneath his thumb, so pliant, like a kiss against his finger. He watched the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to regulate your breathing, inhaling deep breaths in through your nose causing your lungs to expand and your full breasts to push against his chest. Every little detail about you was so soft, so warm and inviting, like you had been designed purely for him. He was absolutely enamored by you and could spend the rest of his life in this exact moment, feeling you against him, but time was not on his side.

“Look at how they all just left you,” he maliciously purred, his eyes narrowing into a focused glare, “you know they’re going to do the same thing in the arena, darling.”

“That’s not true,” you hissed back, “Krystal tried to stay.”

“And yet all it took for her to leave was a simple pocket knife and her brother. And really, when it comes down to it, who do you think she will choose, Her brother or you?”

You tried to swallow the growing lump in your throat and stayed quiet… he’s just trying to psych you out.

“Meet us in the cornucopia tomorrow, you’ll be much safer with us six than left to fend off eighteen others on your own. You’re smart, you have to know they will chase down any career left alone.”

You frowned but nodded, you had already agreed on this, so you didn’t know why he was bringing it up again.

“Good girl, then you know you have to stay with me once we’re all together. Yoongi sees you as a threat to his sister. Your friendship makes her judgment weak so he will take you out if you’re alone with him. And like I just said, do you really want to side with Krystal when she would choose her brother over you at the end anyway? Athena is threatened by you; thinks you’re distracting me from protecting her in the game as part of our district alliance. I don’t blame her for that though, she is right. I would choose you over her. You know I’d choose you over any of them. And then of course there’s your own district partner, who I’m sure you just heard before… would you trust a man who wants to use your body to sell you to fans from the capital for supplies? The one who didn’t believe you when you tried to warn him about me? The one who just walked away and left you to me now?”

An aching wave of hopelessness washed over your body as you slumped back against the wall. If it wasn’t for Hoseok’s arm holding you upright, you would have just let yourself fall to the ground.

“Please stop,” you whispered, the lump in your throat felt like a golf ball choking you inside.

“I can’t, darling,” Hoseok murmured, his fingers over your lips moving to smooth the faint hairs that had come loose from training back behind your ear.

“Not until you understand that you need me in that arena.” His hand came to rest on the side of your cheek, cradling your face in his palm.

“I’ve trained for this my whole life, I’m the only one you can trust to protect you.”

“But how can I trust you? Like you just said you spent your whole life training for these games, training to kill people like me. It’s all hopeless, no matter who I choose.”

“Don’t say that,” He scolded, shaking you by the hold on your waist.

“You saw me pull that knife on Namjoon before, and I didn’t even know you were there. It’s exactly like I told you on the first day of training, I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm you. No one in that arena matters to me, only you. You’re mine.”

“How can you keep saying that!? We don’t even know each other. I don’t understand how you could possibly feel this way about me. It all just sounds like a cruel way for you to take me to the e-”

Hoseok’s mouth silenced your protests, his lips pushing against yours and hands holding you in place. His kiss was searing and dominant, offering no chance for refusal, though as you felt the shivers running down your spine, you didn’t know if you would have been capable if a chance were provided. You had found him physically attractive the moment you had met, and somehow it was like the passion you had seen in his eyes was magnified a hundredfold through his kiss. He was strong and powerful, yet simultaneously gentle. His arm supporting your waist held your body impossibly close to his, whilst the fingertips from his hand on your face were tenderly stroking the skin on your cheek.

Your eyes had unconsciously closed when his face had moved in to meet yours, which only seemed to heighten your other senses. The places where his body made contact with yours were tingling as if flames from a nearby fire were licking against your skin. Everything about Jung Hoseok was warm; his sun kissed skin, copper hair and the heat radiating from his body into yours. You were stunned, and in your frozen state Hoseok moved his lips against your pliant ones to deepen the kiss, the tip of his tongue dancing along the line of your mouth before sliding inside to meet your own tongue and try to coax it to return with his.

What somehow felt like an eternity was in reality a mere few seconds before an announcement echoed through speakers throughout the training center, instructing tributes to cease everything and make your way to a designated area for the mandatory final assessments to shortly begin. Hoseok broke the kiss, leaving you breathless as he whispered upon your lips,

“If you can’t believe my words, then believe that.”

Pressing his lips back to yours quickly once more, he finally pulled back.

“Come on, we have to go.”

You mutely allowed Hoseok to lead you out of the corridor and back into the training center where a Capitol representative with a clipboard was lining everyone up to be taken to the waiting area. There was no talking from anyone as you were all put into your lines and made to follow the representative into a smaller room, whilst the training center was to be rearranged. The waiting room was small and cold with metallic coloring. Black chairs were organized by districts and you were told that one by one you would be brought before the judges to present your chosen skill, where you would then be graded on a score out of twelve. The scores would be announced later in the afternoon, before your final interviews with Caesar Flickerman in the evening.

You wordlessly sat beside Namjoon, not even looking in his direction even though you could occasionally feel him trying to catch your eye. No doubt he would want to dissect your conversation with Hoseok but you had no interest in telling him about anything that had happened. Especially not after how he had treated you the last time you had tried to warn him. Instead you kept your eyes solely on the ground, nervously bouncing your leg as you worried about your upcoming grading.

Everything was happening so fast. It felt like only moments ago when your name had been reaped, since then you had already travelled by train, appeared in the parade and completed your three days of training. You felt sick in your stomach at the thought that the short time that had passed between your reaping and this very moment could possibly be longer than the time you had between now and when you would meet your end in the arena. You immediately tried to stamp that thought out, trying to hold back the overwhelming wave of grief threatening to crash over you. You couldn’t let yourself go down without a fight and giving in to the misery would only reduce you to a walking corpse.

“District 1, female.”

The man with the clipboard had returned to the room to officially begin the assessments. You noted how he didn’t even call for Krystal by her name, just a district number and her assigned gender. How cold and clinical, much like the room they were keeping you in. You wondered if reducing tributes to numbers without names made it possible for the man to sleep at night, knowing he was part of a system that sent innocent children to the slaughter every year.

“District 1, male.”

As Yoongi left with the clipboard man you couldn’t help but notice Krystal didn’t come back into the room with him. So you would be allowed to return to the dorm and prepare for the interviews as soon as you were done. You were grateful this would at least mean a few hours’ break from Hoseok, you would just have to lock yourself in your room quickly before Namjoon would finish after you, and try to interrogate you in your living quarters.

“District 2, female.”

No one had spoken since the line up. All too focused on mentally preparing for the assessment. You felt for the younger tributes who had never picked up a weapon before a week ago, now having to present themselves as fighters before a panel with only 3 days of training. Once again you were grateful for your father for his insistence on training you with a knife, which at least gave you somewhat of a starting point to work with.

“District 2, male.”

You kept your head down and eyes on the floor, watching as two pairs of shoes walked directly past you on their way out of the room.

“No kiss good luck?” Namjoon snickered next to you, deliberately keeping his voice quiet enough that only you could hear him.

You ignored him.

“What’s the matter, trouble in paradise?” he mocked again.

You continued to ignore him, making sure your eyes were pointed on the exact same spot you had been staring at on the ground since you had sat down. Your knee continued to bounce at the exact same pace. You didn’t want to give him a single flinch, not even a minute sign of a reaction, given that was exactly what he was trying to get. You wondered what he was trying to achieve by riling you up. Did he want you to snap back at him and get in trouble? There had been no specific instruction not to talk, the weight of the occasion had instead resulted in the silence, so you doubted it. Most probably, he wanted to get in your head and psych you out before your assessment, likely trying to lower your score. Internally you scoffed, it’s not like you were a major threat to him anyway. You both knew you weren’t a trained career like he was. He was already going to outscore you anyway.

“District 3, female.”

Namjoon had gone from dictating your alliance, to spitting in the face of your concerns, to now mocking you. You wondered if he would’ve treated an actual trained career better if someone had volunteered for the females of 4. Perhaps it was to do with his ego that Hoseok had singled you out and wanted to work with you, even though he was clearly the more powerful tribute between you. He had taken it as a threat. A threat to his chances if you did side with Hoseok given Hoseok and Namjoon were on near equal footing, and the thought you had chosen Hoseok could have been seen as some act of betrayal. Never mind the fact you had done everything you could to try and avoid Hoseok, including telling Namjoon himself and asking for his help. Was he really that stupid enough to be mad you didn’t continue to beg him after his rejection?

“District 3, male.”

You supposed if he hypothetically succeeded and did psych you out into getting a terrible score it would be his own way of re-establishing himself as the desired tribute from 4. A reminder over your head that you weren’t a real career, and being brought into their alliance was an act of charity. A mercy killing to grace you with their presence before taking you out later in the game as an easy option. You longed to prove him wrong. Not just him but Hoseok also, the both of them for thinking you were pathetic and in need of their protection. His mockery and attempted sabotage was only acting as fuel to your fire.

“District 4, female.”

Your head snapped up to see the clipboard man standing in front of you. Wordlessly you nodded and got to your feet. You ignored the feeling of the eyes from the other tributes in the room staring at you as you had to walk past them to the exit. You were lead back down the same pathway you had taken from the training complex to the waiting room, only this time when you re-entered the training center you were the only person inside. Clipboard man hung back in the corridor and the only other people you could see were the game makers through the window in their viewing room. The center layout had been rearranged, with dummies and targets placed in optimum viewing range from the game makers’ vantage point.

“L/N, F/N, District 4, Female, 18 years of age” a voice crackled through the speakers overhead by means of introduction, as you walked over to the marked spot on the floor you had been instructed to stand.

It was a strange feeling looking up at the pompous judges dressed in their flamboyant outfits with pretentiously fluorescent dyed hair and beards. It was as if they were dressed up for an expensive night on the town and you, and the other twenty-three, were their performers for the evening. It was weirdly easy to put the judges in the back of your mind, despite being able to clearly see the room of around twenty people intently staring at you with interest. The all looked so fictional and outlandish that it was easy to dismiss them as some sort of strange figment of your imagination. They didn’t look like real people, which somehow made it possible for you compartmentalize them as imaginary, and instead focus on the task at hand.

Looking at the assortment of weapons on display, you mostly ignored the large range on offer and went straight for the knives. Running your fingertips along the handles you picked out a hunting knife with a blade that would have been around 8 inches long. There were smaller, thinner, knives specifically made for throwing on offer, however the ones you had practiced with back at home were the larger kind on your boat. Gingerly you bounced the handle in your palm, trying to get a quick feel for the weight. Looking up you examined the range of targets that were on display – some quite close and others much further.

You went for the closest target, that was five meters away, as a warm up.

Thwack

The blade sailed easily through the air landing in the yellow zone, on the first circle outside of the bulls-eye. You shrugged your shoulders and rolled your neck with an exhale, not a bad start and a good way to get the nerves under control.

You retrieved a second knife from weapons trolley and took your aim for the next target that was ten meters away.

Thwack

Another yellow circle, except this time your knife landed in the second circle outside from the bulls-eye. Your pursed your lips with a shake of your head. It was still in a decent range but you were hoping to improve on your last throw rather than getting further from the bulls-eye.

You went back for another knife, choosing another one like the last two you had thrown, and lined up for the fifteen-meter target.

Thwack

Red zone, just outside the yellow. If you were aiming at a person, rather than a circle, that would have been lucky to connect. You let out a sharp exhale with a sigh, you weren’t doing bad – you’d made contact with all three targets so far – but you weren’t establishing yourself as a threat either. Not on the level that you knew the other careers were going to be scoring.

Returning to the weapons rack you found there to be one knife left that was in the same size range as the others you had used so far. You turned the knife over in your hand weighing up your final options. There was a final target twenty meters away, but with the rate you were throwing, you’d highly likely just continue to move further away from the bulls-eye. You could always try to throw on one of the other targets again and work to improve your existing result, but it would be difficult to improve much on the first impression of being ‘good, but not great’. Your last option would be the dummies. The dummies were situated on the opposite side of the targets and provided a more human edge to demonstrations. You had elected to use targets in the hope of showcasing solid aim through a bulls-eye, but that hadn’t exactly worked out. With one knife left you decided to try and showcase something a little more realistic.

The dummies were grey and faceless, just human shapes of rubber, which was a lot different from what you would be facing in real life within the arena. If you couldn’t land a shot on a stationary figure you were practically as good as dead. Not only did you need to prove a score to the judges, but you wanted this for your own confidence. With a frown, you turned and launched your blade ten meters across the room into the head of a dummy with a satisfying Thwack.

You didn’t bother to look up to the balcony and see their whispers and nods of approval, instead walking straight over to the dummy and pulling the knife out from the rubber. You weren’t finished yet; you were going to show them what a fishing district knew how to do best…

Grasping the handle, you plunged the blade into the sternum, deep enough to reach what would be the back bone of a human, and dragged the blade down to the pelvis. Pulling the knife out you made horizontal slashes along the chest and the hip where your line down the body had began and ended. Tossing the knife aside, you reached your hands inside of the dummy, pulling it open.

Granted the physical anatomies between a fish and a human were quite different, but the concept of gutting was quite easy to get across.

x

Once the assessment was over you were lead back to your living quarters. With the pressure subsiding and adrenaline wearing off, you found your hands beginning to tremble. You were thankful to have your water bottle as some sort of distraction, shakily taking sips to try and calm yourself down. By the time you finally arrived back to the dorm you were only able to answer Finnick’s “How did you go?” with a quick “fine” as you hurriedly rushed to your bedroom, not wanting to stick around and see Namjoon again until you absolutely had to.

The assessments were scheduled to run until 4:00pm, with the results being broadcast at 4:30pm, before tributes were due to report at the auditorium at 5:00pm to begin preparing for interviews. You were grateful to be from one of the earlier districts, which left you with more free time between the conclusion of your assessment and your next schedule. Your bedroom contained its own en suite bathroom so the first thing you did upon entering was strip off your clothes and head for the shower.

You spent a long time under the hot running water, sitting on the tiles and letting the shower cover up the sound of your crying. It had become somewhat of a routine for you to return from training and cry under the safety of your showerhead where no one else could see or judge you for it. The emotional toll it took to bury your feelings and avoid crying in the training center, in front of the career pack, in front of the judges, or out of fear every waking moment of your life now was strenuous. The shower was your haven, a place where you could wash away the sweat and grime from your day, and allow some form of pent up release. Today’s shower would be the longest one you had taken since entering the capital.

A knock and Finnicks’ muffled voice through the door told you it was after 4:00pm and the results would be broadcast soon, so you reluctantly turned off the taps and began to dry off. You were told that hair, make up and styling would take place in the auditorium later, so you dressed in the most comfortable clothing that you had been provided with; a cashmere sweater and matching sweatpants. You waited in your room as long as possible, before putting on a pair of slippers and walking out to the lounge room at 4:30pm.

Finnick, Periwinkle and Namjoon were all seated on the sofa facing the giant television, which was currently displaying Caesar Flickerman and a co-host you didn’t recognize behind a desk. Wordlessly you joined them, choosing a spot next to Periwinkle on the lounge, the opposite side of where Namjoon was sitting.

“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the scores!”

You frowned at how enthusiastic Caesar seemed to be over his job. His mouth was spread into a wide grin, showing off his artificially white teeth, and his emerald green eyes (that had to be contact lenses) were practically glowing with excitement. You all sat in dead silence, if it weren’t for Caesar’s voice reading out District 1 you would have been able to hear a pin drop. The results weren’t surprising to you in the least. Krystal and Yoongi both scored 9s, Athena a 9 too and Hoseok 11. The girl from District 3 who had fallen in front of you on the monkey bars only managed a dismal score, the same as her district number. Her male partner only fared slightly better with a 5.

“District 4, F/N, L/N! Oh, she certainly captured many people’s attention at the parade, but is she as deadly as she is beautiful?”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff.

“You better not do that when he talks to you on stage,” Finnick warned.

You sarcastically put on an overly fake smile and fluttered your eye lashes back at him, until your expression was wiped blank by Caesar’s next words.

“Miss L/N, 10.”

Your jaw dropped as Periwinkle burst into enthusiastic applause, Finnick cocked an eyebrow with an impressed nod and Namjoon let out a low whistle.

“Someone’s been hiding something~,” Namjoon sing-songed as you closed your open mouth and took in a deep breath. You shook your head.

“Just the same knife throwing I’ve been practicing,” you replied.

Technically that was not a lie, just an omission of the gutting part. You wondered what it was about your little stunt that had pleased the judges so much. You were hoping to bump yourself to an 8 or 9 to at least try and blend in with the careers, instead you had somehow managed to establish yourself as a threat amongst them. With how much you had been pushed around so far you were glad to at least have one moment of impact. But now you had to be worried about the extra target being a threat could potentially put on your back.

Namjoon didn’t reply further as Caesar read his name and announced his score of 9.

You blanched. There was no way in hell you were more skilled than Namjoon was with a weapon. You looked over, expecting him to be furious, but he merely sat there with a content expression on his face nodding at the TV.

“Someone’s been hiding something,” you repeated Namjoon’s words back to him.

Namjoon’s only response was a smirk.

You didn’t like the way he looked like he knew far more than what he was sharing.

I'm a bit annoyed because I planned to combine the final training day and interviews into one chapter. But I found it was starting to get too long, as this part was already hitting 7000 words.

Next chapter will be the interviews and fallout from certain things the characters say in them

Chapter after will FINALLY be what everyone here wants (especially me) - the actual Hunger Games in the arena

Sorry to keep dragging it out, my brain hates me.

#yandere hoseok #yandere bts #yandere #yandere bts fic #yandere jung hoseok #bts x reader #dark bts #dark bts au #y!hoseok #hoseok fic #hoseok x reader #hoseok au #dark jhope #HUNGER GAMES AU

[springday-aus]

Bad Boy!AU with Seungcheol

—

moodboard link

Group: Seventeen 

Member: S.Coups / Choi Seungcheol 

Genre: fluff, romance 

Additionally: college!au 

Type: Bulletpoint AU 

Word Count: approx. 2.5k 

don’t worry, Seungcheol isn’t even really a bad boy

he’s really just… misunderstood?

actually that’s not a good word for it

it’s in the sense that his reputation makes him to be seen as a bad boy

it’s probably because of the leather jacket

and the motorcycle

and the piercings (mainly the ears)

and the tattoos

it also doesn’t help either that he’s keeps a small circle of friends

there’s nothing wrong with rolling with a smaller group

it just means a lot of people don’t actually know him and that causes more rumors about his personality

he hangs around Wonwoo and Minghao the most

Wonwoo is known to be handsome, but is also super cold to strangers

(more of a shy thing than a rude thing—a whole different story)

on the other hand, Minghao is one of those people who are brutally honest

(which makes him seem like an inconsiderate asshole)

and because people tend to lump people together

they just assume that Seungcheol is the same as those two are: cold and rude

in reality, he’s just a bit more reserved than others

makes people earn his trust, but some people found that unreasonable apparently

people are just so judgmental sometimes, especially in a small town where everyone wanted know everything about everyone

so, for college, Seungcheol picked out a city to study

because the larger populations lets him blend in with the others

tbh, let’s be real…. he def isn’t the only one who’s wearing all black on a college campus lmao

Wonwoo at some point: “look, we’re twinning”

Seungcheol: “it’s not twinning if you only wear black and keep wearing black”

Wonwoo: :(

anyways

he chose to study business

basic but it’s simple

it ensures that he’s going to have a stable job and by the of the day that’s all that matters to him

stability

also the business suit he has covers everything nicely, so it isn’t like he has visible face tattoos or piercings

not that it’s bad, but….. capitalism, you know? homeboy would like money

so, while his hometown called him a bad influence on other kids

the college sees him as another hottie in the leather jacket

he’s probably would’ve been the campus heartthrob—had it not been for the fact that he went to same school as Wonwoo, Mingyu or that new freshie who calls himself Vernon

there was one time in his theology class that he took off his leather jacket right?

the arm muscles flexing and the tattoo sleeve……….. it’s safe to say everyone took a double take during class that day

as for his academic marks……….

I mean, yeah, he doesn’t have the top grades to make it on a dean’s list or anything, but

he’s got academic scholarships and that’s enough tbh

he might not be a genius prodigy like Jihoon, but he isn’t stupid

Jeonghan: “wait, you’re not cheating off of him?”

Seungcheol: “no, Jeonghan…………. are you?”

Jeonghan: “yeah, no, I thought it was like a thing that we all agreed to”

Seungcheol: “Jeonghan, no”

Jeonghan: “Jeonghan, yes”

so he’s not like a major try-hard like all those A+ obsessive people from high school

but he does make the effort

he’s just trying to live a nice, quiet life on campus to graduate—just like everyone else here

although

there is this habit of his that he’s been trying to break: being late to class

his attendance record isn’t great……….

like he’ll be there….. but he’ll be there like five to ten minutes late so it doesn’t really matter but

it’s like a personal pet peeve about himself

granted, it doesn’t matter when most professors don’t even take attendance

but it’s also because he works really late hours at a nearby convenience shop on campus

so………. the end result is tardiness

and he’s trying to work on it

which is also how he meets you

you see, Seungcheol met you in a………… unique situation

so, Seungcheol has found it easier to go around in his motorcycle, especially in a city

and especially on a college campus

and it’s like 20x faster than walking

it’s also good for when he’s late for his morning classes because he can easily make it to the other side in campus in like 2 minutes vs the original 10 minutes

so on a bright Tuesday morning

after he overslept his alarm (once again)

he quickly got dressed and hopped on his motorcycle to get to the other side of campus for class

….. only for him to quickly stop after hearing your scream

he didn’t necessarily hit you per say but it didn’t mean you managed to pass by untouched

you were rushing off to class too

on all days to be late………. it just had to be the day you had a midterm that’s 30% of your final grade

so you were rushing through

unable to see the motorcycle that was heading your direction

which is your fault but that’s also his fault for not seeing you until you screamed when he nearly hit you, running over a toe or two

he immediately stopped, running over to you

Seungcheol: “oh my God, are you alright?”

You: hair messed up, in pain, and survived the heart attack he gave you

You: “sure”

Seungcheol: “are you sure? I can take you to the hospital or—”

You: no, no, I am already as late as is and, and, and…….”

you trail off, remembering the motorcycle that laid a couple of feet away

You: “instead of the hospital, how about a ride instead? I cannot miss this midterm”

Seungcheol was taken aback from your commitment and strange request, but complied nevertheless

Seungcheol: “are you sure?”

You: “absolutely, hustle man, hustle—we gotta go”

Seungcheol scrambles, starting up the motorcycle and handing you a helmet

which you gladly grab and attach yourself behind him with your arms on his waist

he’s a bit flustered from your proximity

what if he was a murderer and you just hopped onto his bike?

I mean, he obviously isn’t but still

You: “sir, chop-chop, pls move, my ass needs to get to McGregor”

Seungcheol: “yes, right”

it takes less than a minute to get there, especially since there weren’t many others on the pathways

you hastily get off his motorcycle, tossing his helmet back at him and running off

You: “thank you!!!!”

Seungcheol: “you’re welcome?”

he watches as you run into the building, with nothing more on your mind than your midterm

how odd

he shakes his head, clearing his head of you before going to park his motorcycle and locking it—he’s got his own problems to worry about right now

(he re-told the story to a couple of his friends, in which Jihoon said: “watch yourself, you could get a lawsuit coming one of these days” and Seungcheol just rolled his eyes)

it’s about two weeks before he sees you again

so fun fact, his college requires community involvement/field assignment

and he chose to be in the big brother program

so he’s a big brother to this adorable 6 year old girl named Rose

he filled his requirement long ago, but he highkey loved it so he remained as a big brother to Rose 

who he has to take out trick-or-treating for the Halloween event the program set up 

can you imagine Seungcheol in his leather jacket and tattoos and piercings with a little group of 6 year olds

the chaos

Rose: “what did you dress as?”

Seungcheol: “uhhhhhh….. Danny from Grease”

Rose: “who’s that?”

Seungcheol: oh my God I’m old

they get a door that’s got some fake cobwebs and bright purple string lights

Seungcheol: “go ahead little ones, knock on the door”

they yell out trick or treat and the door creaks open to…….. you

you and your friends happened to be gathering together for Halloween and decided to meet up at your friend’s old house which was in the neighborhood that Seungcheol was in

you all originally planned to watch a bunch of bad supernatural movies and give out candy to little kids

all of y’all took turns at the door and it was your turn

you give the kids a sweet smile in your doctor’s costume

(or, at least, he’s assuming it’s a costume—maybe it is and maybe it isn’t)

after you pass out the candy, Joshua, the other chaperone, rounds up the kids and Seungcheol’s eyes met your widened ones

You: “oh! it’s motorcycle dude!”

Seungcheol: “motorcycle dude?”

You: “........ you were the one who hit me with his motorcycle right?”

Seungcheol: “has anyone else hit you with a motorcycle?”

You: “so it is you!”

you two chat a bit, especially since they have to start moving to the next house

Joshua: “bro, we have to get moving, stop flirting in front of the children!”

Seungcheol: “I’m not flirting!”

he turns back to you

Seungcheol: “I’ll see you around, please don’t sue me”

You: “sue you?”

Seungcheol: “I’m a broke college kid”

You: “so am I dude”

Joshua gives him another look and another warning before they start to move to the other house

You: “you know, if you have spare time, you’re welcome to join my friends and I—we’re going to be making fun of Twilight later together”

Seungcheol: “I might take you up on that offer”

You: “well, we’ll be here, so”

you give him a smile that makes him stutter for a second, before he waves you goodbye to join the others

Rose: “Joshua says you like the doctor”

Seungcheol: “well, Joshua’s not that smart”

Joshua: “hey!”

he doesn’t know what compels him to go back to the house

but he does

(it might have taken a word or two from Rose and Joshua to encourage him)

and he has a really good time with you and your friends

hearing Seungkwan roasting Robert Pattinson was something Seungcheol didn’t know he needed

Soonyoung’s attempt of creating bgm on top of the soundtrack was also equally as hilarious

and then there were your side remarks with him throughout the movie

which he did enjoy

he left the house that night with a couple of new numbers in his phone

Jeonghan would be proud of him for making new friends on his own

after that night, you and Seungcheol hang out a bit more

you get to know each other

turns out the so called bad boy is actually just a major softie

surprise surprise, I know

he’s got a tattoo for his mom (a little heart on his heart)

he’s great at braiding (due to braiding Rose’s hair)

and he picked up sewing to patch up the holes that his friends created in their shirts

major heart eyes for Seungcheol

and he learns more about you and your little quirks

at some point, he even shares some things that happened back home

which was a bit hard for him to do but you were incredibly understanding

people just suck sometimes

one good thing about cities is that everyone minds their own business so

anyways

while he’s met your friends, you’ve also met his

you and Jeonghan are now the chaotic duo that Seungcheol wishes he can undo

Jeonghan: “are you fucking cheating? in front of my salad?”

You: steals another $50 bill from the monopoly pile

You: “no”

Jeonghan: “pay me off”

Wonwoo: “we are sitting right fucking here”

anyways

you two continue to hang out together as time goes and it’s great

sometimes you even hang out with him and Rose and it’s super cute

especially when you watch Seungcheol care for Rose like an actual sister

maybe that’s when the heart eyes started

he just……….. knows how to take care of people

he’s very attentive and understands that different people have different needs

it’s all……… very attractive

he’s very attractive

not in just the physical aspect

the inside *chef’s kiss*

Seungcheol doesn’t know when he started liking you either

maybe it was the way you really listened to what he said

you encouraged and supported him to do what he wanted

and told people off if they did say something about him

along with telling him to ignore them because it’s all stemming from jealousy and hate

and he knows that but it’s always nice to know he has someone on his side

so, what changes?

one movie night, there’s some generic rom com that you’ve already forgotten about

the blanket you’re both sharing isn’t the only heat you’re feeling

his knee knocks lightly against yours

your shoulders touching his

his fingers lingering on yours

then he’s moving closer

and closer

and then your lips meet

it’s soft, but firm

and that was the first day you started dating

dating bad boy!Seungcheol is basically the same as being friends with him only needier

he opened up to you as a friend

but as a boyfriend

you’re seeing EVERYTHING

he’s lowkey touch-starved so he’s very….. handsy

his hands got cold once and he straight up put his hands up in your hoodie

You: “thErE ArE pEOpLE aRouND sIR”

Seungcheol: “head empty, hands Cold”

lots of movie dates

(you asked if you should put on Twilight again and he said he could only take it one decade at a time)

lots of dinner and takeout dates

(the amount of menus you two have collected is insane)

lots of game night dates

which include Seungcheol’s friends

you and Jeonghan still team up to cheat, leaving the you two in the top to fight for the winning spot but Minghao always calls you two out

and then you start openly cheating

(Jeonghan literally flipped over an operations board one time)

you’ve also seen his tattoos

there are cute small ones and then there are bigger ones of flowers and patterns

You: “does it hurt more if you color them in?”

Seungcheol: “no, I was supposed to get them filled but Rose likes to color them with her markers”

You: “why are you two so fucking adorable”

You: “can I color it in?” c:

he let you

it was so much fun

on some days with Rose, you both color together on a shirtless Seungcheol

speaking of which

she loves you

Rose: “I told you you liked the doctor”

You: ?

Seungcheol: “shhhh, finish your cupcake”

oooh, also—lots of motorcycle rides

during the night is when it’s the most beautiful with all of the city lights

sometimes you stop by a park and just hang out to talk

not often bc like midnight murderers are a thing, but sometimes

it’s always a nice impromptu date

also, it’s been long overdue but he took you to the doctor’s once and brought up the whole running over your toes thing

and your toes are fine but

he still highkey feels kind of guilty but the kisses you give him compensate for the guilt

so bad boy!Seungcheol isn’t really bad just misunderstood

but like…. are we complaining? 

#admin grandma #grandma aus #aus #fluff #kpop #kpop aus #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #seventeen #seventeen aus #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen scoups #scoups #choi seungcheol #seungcheol aus #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #bad boy!au #bad boy!scoups #bad boy!seungcheol #college!au #college!scoups #college!seungcheol #group: seventeen #member: scoups #member: choi seungcheol

[evabellasworld]

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 10

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

——————————————————————————————

Summary:  When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

————————————————————————————

Stepping towards the surface, Odd Eye and Mina breathed a sigh of relief as they landed on an empty part of the island, hearing gunshots and explosions from afar. As part of their mission briefed earlier, Team B will storm the capital city of Mendes to topple the Imperial government.

The planet was part of the Galactic Republic, but had fallen in the hands of the Galactic Empire recently. Hocura harvested crystals that were worth millions of Galactic Credits, and they were instructed to take it back from Imperial hands.

Rubbing her belly, Odd Eye turned around and counted all her troops from the 666th Battalion, from ARC Trooper Tarot, Ouija, Yeri, and others that survived for the past six months. “All members of the 666th are accounted for, General,” she reported to Erina.

“Excellent, Commander,” Erina praised her.

“What about you, Mina?” Raul asked. “Is everyone present?”

“We’re all here, General,” she responded, looking at Bouncy, Nygma, and another Mina.

After the death of Commander Gowon, the ARC Trooper was promoted to a higher position, something many of her peers could only dream of. She was pleased with her new position as a commander, but a bigger role means bigger responsibility for her, and she found it challenging for the past 6 months.

Mina looked up to Odd Eye for guidance, and while the latter has been helpful, the former wished that she had more time to learn about leadership. She may have received training from Alpha-17, but Mina was used to being in the shadows alongside her late commander. I wish Commander Gowon is still here. Why does she have to go too soon? I have a lot to learn about responsibility.

“Alright, we’re heading to the jungle,” Erina instructed them. “So make sure you all stick together and keep your eyes sharp. You never know what you have to encounter down there.”

“Yes, sir,” Odd Eye bobbed her head in acknowledgment. “Come on guys, we have a city to take back.”

”Understood, commander,” Tarot said, as he gestured to his siblings to keep moving.

As the 666th and 197th Battalion marched together, Raul frantically searched through his backpack for something important, making Erina cross her arms. “Let me guess, you forgot your bug spray again?”

Raul gave a nod, smiling sheepishly. “You know me well, Eri.”

“Next time, please remember it,” she advised, passing him the bug spray. “You always forget every time we’re heading to another planet.”

“Alright then,” he resigned. “Also, did you remember to pack your prayer mat? You always forget to bring that whenever we’re on duty.”

Her smile faded as she paused in her tracks, slapping her forehead in shame. “Shit, why do I always forget to bring my prayer mat? That’s like the most important thing on my list. Now I have to pray five times a day with my blanket, again.”

“Don’t worry about it, Eri. At least you don’t have to worry about forgetting your binder like me.”

She raised her eyebrows at the dark-skinned man. “But you don’t need to bring your binders anymore. You already had chest surgery a long time ago.”

“Well, that was way before my chest surgery,” Raul told her. “Remember, I had to work at the diner all day long?”

“How could I forget that, Raul? You wouldn’t even dare to take a day off just to go out with me. Your boss was pretty strict with you.”

“Hey, at least I took you out on a date after the surgery.”

Erina let out a chuckle. “Of course we went out. You came out as a trans man and I wanted to celebrate at your favourite ice-cream shop. That was an important milestone in your life, you know.”

“Yeah, it was the best day of my life.”

As they continued with their conversation, Odd Eye could not help but smile underneath her helmet. Their conversation reminded her of Erhan, back when he was still alive and cheerful. They always have a deep conversation with each other that lasts the entire night, before they would fall asleep in each other’s arms when the sun rose from the horizon.

Her last memory of her lover was before they left an island planet. I can’t wait to start a family with you, Odd Eye recalled his words towards her, before watching him die in front of her. All it took was a tank shooting him from behind. As much as she told Tori that she moved on, she wished he was with her right now.

“Aren’t they cute?” Mina spoke, bringing her back to the present. “They’re both holding hands right now.”

“Yeah, they are,” she agreed, focusing on Erina and Raul. “Who do you think will propose first, though?”

“I think it would be General Gomez,” ARC Trooper Tarot speculated. “He’s quite the romantic one in the relationship.”

“Really?” Mina raised her eyebrows. “I always assumed it would be General Almarez-Guttierez. She’s pretty confident in everything she does.”

“My money goes to General Gomez as well,” ARC Trooper Bouncy joined in the fun. “He’s always sweet towards his partner. I mean, he even carried General Almarez-Guttierez to safety more than once.”

“Okay, guys, let’s just relax with this gossip, alright? We should let their relationship go with the flow.”

“Yes, commander,” Tarot groaned. “Though my readings tell me that there might be a union, eventually.”

Odd Eye rolled her eyes. Of course Tarot would say something like that. That’s how he got his name. He’s obsessed with tarot cards. She wondered why Erhan had to get him those cards in the first place, though some of his readings were accurate most of the time.

One time, he pulled out The Tower card, and the next thing she knows, the 666th Battalion lost half their men in the Battle of Zamerth. It was the most devastating loss she had experienced, and it wasn’t the last time the Grand Army of the Republic had to fold against the Separatists.

“Speaking of readings, what is the card of the day?” the pregnant commander asked, hoping today will be filled with good fortunes and luck.

“This morning, I got the Temperance card. From what I can tell, it means that you’ll have to keep your cool, even when things aren’t going your way.”

“I’m trying my best, Tarot. You know how hard it is to carry a baby while fighting a war?”

“I’m aware of that, commander. That’s why the Temperance card appeared in my reading today.”

It’s an accurate reading, she acknowledged with pure intention. She had to give credit to that. It’s difficult to predict the future with tarot cards, especially if you’re not familiar with it.

The purple jungle looked like something that was from a fairy tale, and the symphony of crickets in the background felt tranquil for her. The rain from the clouds made it better, as she could concentrate on her current surroundings.

If Odd Eye was given a chance to live somewhere, Hocura is her number one choice. She would never get bored with the scenery from her treehouse. Her son would love it here too. He could sleep to the sound of raindrops while Odd Eye would just sit beside him, reading her favourite book. It’s the life she always wanted after the war ended.

“So, how long till we reach Mendes?” Mina questioned Raul. “We’ve been walking for hours and my legs are killing me.”

Raul opened his map from his device and showed their current location to his commander. “Mendes is 20 kilometres from here. If we meet up halfway through the jungle with the 212th and the Coruscant Guard, we will get there in two days.”

“So are the 212th and the Corrie Guards still fighting on the other side?” Mina bit her lips. “It must be a pretty intense battle. I hope they’re okay.”

“Two days is pretty long and I’m not sure whether they can survive that long,” Odd Eye commented, tapping her feet on the ground. “Is it alright if we rest for at least 10 minutes? My feet also hurt and I might need a bathroom break right now.”

Erina exchanged a brief glance with her partner for a moment before approving both their requests. “Alright then, you all can have a 20 minutes break for yourselves. Then we’ll continue through the jungle.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tarot sighed in relief. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Raul winked. “Rest is good for your health and you all need it.”

#star wars #star wars ocs #star wars original characters #star wars fics #star wars fanfics #star wars fanfictions #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #arc trooper fives #arc trooper yara #clone troopers #clone trooper ocs #clone ocs #commander fox #riyo chuchi #commander tori #lenora doherty #clone trooper tup #palps is dead #star wars au #star wars alternate universe #count dooku #galactic empire

[tuiccim]

Santi (Part 8)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 3103

Warnings: Angst, violence, language

Trigger warning: Violence

Summary: The Caruso Op continues. 

Santi Masterlist

Day 101

Everything was set. Vision was driving you and the cargo in the SUV to the meeting place. You pulled into the warehouse in Brooklyn you had previously scoped out and smoothly exited the car. Vincent was there waiting with his bodyguards and a few other people to take the cargo. 

“Vincent.” You smile. 

“Eve, is this everything?” VIncent asks.

“Your entire list, as promised. Did you doubt me?” You smirk.

“Of course not, darling.” Vincent says smoothly.

You spend the next 20 minutes going over the cargo and discussing future needs and shipments. When Vincent seems satisfied with everything he nods to the others. 

“I have a gift for you in the office here. Will you join me for a drink?”

“A gift?” You say suspiciously. 

“For our reunion.” Vincent smiles devilishly at you. 

You look to Vision who immediately joins you, but Vincent turns back. “Leave the shadow. I’ll leave the guards. Just the two of us.”

You can feel something is off. Everyone is tense, which is normal in a deal, but there’s something different about Vincent and you can’t quite pull the emotion out that is making things feel strange. Knowing you can handle Vincent alone you decide to take the chance and follow him. Vision is obviously unhappy with the decision but he lets you go. You walk into the dim office with an old metal desk and little else in the room. The door closes suddenly behind you and that’s when you feel the needle in your neck. 

You wake up what was only 20-30 minutes later. Your healing ability metabolizing the drug more quickly than average. You are in the backseat of Vincent’s SUV with hands cuffed behind your back. You moan as you are coming to and realize your surroundings. 

“Awake already?” Vincents snarks. 

“The fuck did you do, Vincent?” You try to sound forceful but it comes out slurred. The effects of the drugs still in your system. 

“I have some bad news. I’m afraid your shadow is no more. My guards are dispatching him as we speak. You did say one lover at a time so I felt the need to rid us of him.”

You chuckle, “I doubt your guards can handle, V. He’s more than he seems.”

“5 to 1. I like my odds.” Vincent looks at you. 

“Where are we going and why am I handcuffed?” You say.

“Someplace private. And it’s the first step in breaking you. I’m the one in control.” Vincent says.

“You think.” You know now that Vincents ‘never say never’ comment at the party had been a threat. His obsession had been rekindled and this time he had decided he would have you no matter what.

“I know. You are mine now, Eve. I’ll prove it to you.” He slides a hand to your thigh and rubs. “You’ll see, darling.” 

You jerk your leg away from him and he chuckles. Looking outside you stare at your surroundings and realize you are no longer in Brooklyn. You assumed you were headed to the loft in the meatpacking district when you see the car is going the opposite direction. Away from everything you had shown Vision and Sam. A little panic begins to form as you realize they have no idea where you are being taken. You reach out to feel Vincent’s emotions but the drug in your system is making it difficult. Your head is pounding so you decide to just lay your head against the window and watch. You hoped Vision was okay. The ride lasts nearly another hour before you arrive at a beautiful house with extensive grounds. The car door opens and you feel another sting in your neck. 

This time you wake up with a start. Something is being held under your nose. You shake your head to get away from the acrid smell. 

“That’s it. Wake up, Eve. It’s time to play.” Vincent's voice is delighted. 

You come awake but still feel sluggish. It takes you a second to realize you’re tied to a metal rack. Wrists are tied by your head and ankles tied to the bottom. Thankfully, you’re still fully dressed. The room is windowless and full of different weapons and equipment. This makes you more fully awake. “Enough, Vincent. Unchain me. This is not how it works.”

“So naive. You think all submissives actually start off wanting it?” Vincent says darkly. 

“If you touch me again, you will die today.” You say.

Vincent slaps you across the face. “Speak when told.”

You laugh at him knowing you can’t let him break you. The longer you hold out against him the better chance he wouldn’t… He needed you to be submissive and there was no way in hell you were gonna break. “That’s cute, Vinny. You think I’ll actually listen to you.”

“Don’t call me that. You will. I think you are wearing too many clothes.” Vincent picks a knife up. 

You simply stare at him with dead eyes. He takes the knife and slides it under the buttons of your blouse and pops them off. You never break eye contact with him. When the last button pops off he rips the blouse open. “Look at you. So pretty.” He slides the knife along your skin. 

“I’m going to mark you. I think I’ll carve my initials right next to your bullet wounds.” He looks down for the scar and your heart accelerates. You hadn’t bothered with the fake scar as trust had been reestablished. Vincent stares hard at your stomach where they had been before reaching for the waistband of your skirt to pull it down further. 

“Where are they?” He stares at you in disbelief. You just stare at him. Not saying anything. “Where are they?” he repeats more loudly and presses the knife into your skin where they should be. Your face twitches at the sting from the knife and he scrapes the blade across your skin raising a thin line that beads with drops of blood. You try to remain calm but the terror begins in the pit of your stomach. Vincent is about to realize what you are. You can already feel your skin knitting back together and his face is staring at the line as it is quickly disappearing. “What the fuck?” He says as he watches and then his eyes snap up to yours. There is pure glee in his face and you feel panic begin to rise in you. “You’re one of those! How far does your healing ability go, Eve? Secretive girl.”

You say nothing. 

“Let’s test it out.” He makes a deeper stripe across your stomach and you keep your poker face on as best you can. He watches as the line recedes again and then rips a piece of your shirt off to wipe away the blood revealing the smooth skin underneath. Then he plunges the knife into your stomach fully and you grunt at the pain. He pulls it out and watches again as your skin repairs itself. He repeats the action eliciting another grunt and smiles at you wickedly, “You still feel all the pain, don’t you? I can hurt you and hurt you and you’ll never have a mark on you. You really are the perfect woman.” He laughs sickly as he plunges the knife in again. 

“Where the fuck is she, Sam? Bucky is near out of his mind as the team scrambles to find you. 

“Redwing lost them in the trees covering the road. We’ll find her. There are only two ways they could have gone. I’ve got another asset that was following her but he hasn’t checked in.”

“I’m gonna kill this bastard.” Bucky fumes.

Sam’s cell phone starts ringing and he picks up. ”Nate, man, where the hell ya been? Do you have her?” Bucky is looming over Sam. 

The voice over the line is breaking up, “Sam, got shit reception out here. They’re in a huge house. No way to get in there without being noticed and he’s got several guards on the ground.”

“I’ve got his location.” Natasha says behind Sam. 

“Let’s go.” Bucky bellows at everyone Vision puts a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. The quinjet is already heading the right direction. 

You are panting from the pain. Vincent has stabbed you a dozen times and your skirt is drenched in blood. He was reveling in the pain it was causing you but was also angry because you wouldn’t scream. 

“Scream for me once, Eve. Then I’ll give you a break. Just one scream.” He plunges the knife in again. 

You hold in any sound. You can’t let him win. Once you catch your breath, you laugh. “Told ya, Vinny. I don’t break.”

“Bitch!” He screams and slaps you again. You just laugh maniacally hoping to unnerve him more. Between the drug still in your system and the pain, you can’t concentrate well enough to use your telepathy. 

Vincent is suddenly calmer and your stomach clenches. “Let’s test something out. You heal, but can you grow back appendages?”

Shit. This was going to hurt. You had lost a toe once before and it had grown back but you’d never cared to test the limitations of the ability. He grabs your hand and then you hear the shots firing. Vincent looks towards the door. 

“Ready to die?” You say. 

Vincent picks up his gun and points it at your head. “We die together, Eve. Don’t worry.” He grins malevolently. 

The door is kicked in and Steve and Bucky freeze seeing the gun pointed at your head. 

“The Avengers. How interesting. I should have guessed with your abilities, Eve.” Vincent says before addressing Steve and Bucky, “Can she survive a head shot?” He grins.

“Shoot him.” You enunciate clearly and Vincent brings the barrel of the gun closer to your head. 

“Lower the gun.” Steve says. 

“I don’t think so. I’ll take her with me.” Vincent turns back to look at you and you wrench your head as far away from the gun as you can but the bullet still hits the right side of your forehead. Vincent drops to the floor dead from Bucky’s shot. Bucky runs to you immediately. You’re slumped over and not moving.

“Doll, doll, wake up.” He picks your head up to see the bullet hole in your forehead. “NO! NO! SANTI! Wake up, baby. WAKE UP, WAKE UP!” Bucky drops to his knees and screams. His jeans become stained with your blood that covers the floor. The rest of the team stand in the doorway taking in the scene before them. 

Steve comes up behind Bucky and tries to pick him up. “Come on, Bucky. Come on, man. Let me get you out of here.”

Suddenly a small tink is heard and Bucky sees a bullet drop into the pool of blood. He looks up sharply and sees your head move slightly. 

“Owwwww…” You say as a massive headache reverberates through your head. 

“Santi!” Bucky is up in an instant and cradles your face.

“Vis?” You slur. Everything feels strange and you can’t seem to get your words out.

“He’s here. He’s okay. Help me get her out of this.” Bucky says. 

Within a few minutes Bucky is carrying you to the quinjet. Natasha and Steve are checking you over for injuries which you find slightly ludicrous. You are exhausted and just want to sleep. Bucky keeps you cradled in his arms in the quinjet whispering to you, “You’re okay, doll. I’ve got you. Never letting you go again.” 

“Bucky,” you curl your fingers into his shirt. 

“Shhh, you don't need to talk. I’m gonna take care of you, baby.” Bucky reassures. 

You can’t hold out any longer and pass out. 

Day 102

You wake in the medbay of the tower and slowly look around. A monitor next to you shows your vitals. You see Bucky talking to one of the doctors. He turns to look at you and you lock eyes. He rushes to your side, “Doll, you’re awake.”

"Bucky." You reach out for him and he takes you in his arms. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s fine. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. How long was I out for?”

“It’s been almost 14 hours.” Dr. Miles says as she walks in. 

“Hey Doc.” You say to your usual doctor. Despite your healing abilities you are still required to have regular check ups with the medical staff. 

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Miles asks. 

You look at Bucky’s face. His arms are still around you. “I’m fine. Nothing feels off. When can I get out of here?”

“All your labs are normal. I want to monitor your vitals and keep you for another hour or two.” 

You groan, “Really, Doc?”

“Let her do her job, Doll.” Bucky says kissing the top of your head. 

She performs a cognitive and neurological exam. 

“Can you tell me what exactly happened? I need to do a full report of your injuries.” Dr. Miles says. 

“Bucky, can you give us a minute?” You look at him. 

“Sorry, Doll. Not letting you go. I need to hear it, too.”

“No, I… Buck.” One look in his stern face told you he wasn’t going anywhere. “Okay. Two slices across my abdomen. Around 20 or so full seated stabs to the abdomen. Bullet to the head.” You get a far away look in your eye. “Bullet to the head. I survived it.” A hand flies to your forehead. 

“You did and without any lasting damage it would seem. We did a cat scan while you were out and everything looks the same as the one we did six months ago.” Dr. Miles gives you both a smile and walks out. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you had to hear that. I’m sorry you had to see it. Sorry you had to do that.” You whisper to Bucky, pulling him tighter against you. 

“I would do it all over again to keep you safe. You never have to worry about him again.” Bucky holds you tight. “I’m just so damn glad you’re safe. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Several hours later, you’ve been released from medbay, showered, spent some quality time with Bucky, and are now joining the team for dinner. When you walk into the room, your eyes immediately go to Vision. Letting go of Bucky’s hand, you rush to hug Vision. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” You say as he returns your embrace. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, too.” Vision says. You put your hands up to his face and look at him for a minute. 

“I’m glad to see you, Vision.” You smile at him in his normal form. You move to Wanda and hug her fiercely. “Thank you. Without him… Thank you.”

“We’re a team. We will always look out for each other.” Wanda says.

You make your way around the room hugging everyone. You hear the elevator and see Sam step off of it with another man. He was wearing a cap and his head was down, but when he looked up at you a minute later you recognized him immediately. 

“Nate?” you say in disbelief. 

“Nate’s an old buddy. Pulled him in since he’s not a recognizable face. You did good, man.” Sam smiles at him. 

“Hi, Agent Delarosa. Nathaniel Spencer, at your service.” He holds a hand out to you. 

You shake it, “I take it you were how they found me.”

“Yeah, I was following. Sam wanted an extra set of eyes on you just in case.” Nate smiles.

“Thank you, Nate.” You smile at him and unable to contain yourself you step forward and hug him. “Thank you.”

Nate laughs, “Yeah. So, you’re not as mean as I remember.”

A laugh bubbles up, “I hope not.” You turn to Sam and pull him into a hug. “Thank you, Sam.” 

“You got it, Santi.” Sam squeezes you.

“Okay, okay. Enough, Birdbrain.” Bucky says pulling you into his arms.

“I can’t help it if she’s grateful to me.” Sam smirks at Bucky. 

“I’m grateful to all of you. I’m just sorry we didn’t complete the mission and find out who was being supplied. I didn’t realize how obsessed…” you trail off. 

“You couldn’t know what he’d do, doll. You and Vision made it out alive. That’s all that matters.” Bucky says. 

“I, for one, am both glad and jealous that you can apparently survive a headshot.” Natasha says. 

Steve clears his throat, “I’m just glad we’re all back together. You need to take it easy for a bit though, Santi. Doctors orders. No mission for at least six weeks.”

“I know, Steve. Doc told me.” You smile at him. “Let’s eat. I’m starving!”

After dinner you asked to speak to Steve and Sam alone. Of course, that meant Bucky too. He hadn’t left your side since you woke up. 

“Fury?” You asked simply. 

“His only concern was getting you back. He knew Caruso was dangerous and unstable. No one could have predicted that he would do that.” Steve says.

“Figuring out who he was supplying for was the goal and now we’re back at square one.” You frown.

“Not exactly.” Sam says.

“What do you mean?” 

“That house was a treasure trove of intel. It wasn’t on anyone’s radar. SHIELD got several leads to follow from it.” Sam says.

“So, it wasn’t a total bust?” Relief floods through you. 

“No. SHIELD will be chasing everything down. Caruso had several links to HYDRA.” Steve says.

“It’s out of our hands now.” Bucky puts his arms around you. “You did more than enough.”

You lean into his touch. “Okay. We’re gonna call it an early night, guys.”

“Night.” Sam says. 

“Night, Santi. Night, Buck. Get some rest.”

You lay on your side facing Bucky, studying each beautiful feature of his face. He is doing the same. His eyes keep wandering to a certain spot on your forehead. Your heart broke a little every time they did. Knowing the agony he must have been put through. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper with tears in your eyes. A sentiment you had repeated several times since waking up in the medbay.

“We’ve been over this. Not your doing, doll.” Bucky cups your cheek. 

“I just…” You start sobbing again. It felt like the hundredth time you had that day. Everything replayed in your mind again and again. Bucky pulled you into his arms and held you. The mission was over but the effects had a hold on you. The damage Eve always left in her wake.

Part 9

#bucky x reader #bucky #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky angst #the winter soldier #winter soldier #winter soldier fanfic #winter soldier x you #x you #x reader #reader insert #marvel #marvel fanfic #avengers #avengers fanfic #fanfic #santi #i love bucky

[chillyravenart]

Hi, I'm curious about your opinion on a seldom discussed asoiaf matter: Rhaegar Targaryen's relationship with his mother, Rhaella. It's bugging me since there's little to no mention of it in any of the books. Safe to assume that Viserys was close to her, her crown was his last joy according to Dany. Dany herself sadly doesn't count, she only has stories about their mom. But Rhaegar has plenty of years. He must have seen her misery as well. Surely he didn't just stand aside and did nothing right?

It's a seldom discussed matter for a reason, we simply don't have enough material on their relationship and only mere snippets on them entirely. I have opinions and views of my own, but none of them are fully backed up by canon- because the info just doesn’t exist :( 

Rhaegar was born to thirteen-year old Rhaella during the Tragedy at Summerhall- an event that was said to overshadow him throughout his life. As per royal etiquette, I can only assume that baby Rhaegar was brought up by wetnurses and tutored by maesters as a child, with limited access to his mother. This would have been exacerbated by the fact that within the first eleven years of Rhaegar’s life, Rhaella lost FIVE babies. Her role was to provide Aerys with heirs and spares, and for a very long time, it ended in grief. I’m sure Rhaegar would have known of his mother’s misery, but there’s literally nothing to illustrate that point. Royal children did not share the same maternal relationship as children today, and whilst I’m certain Rhaella loved her firstborn, I just don’t know if they were super close on account of her losses, as well as Aerys’ increasing madness. 

I’ve done some rambling below the cut just to try and explore this further. Hope it makes sense lol!

To start off with, Rhaella and Aerys’ marriage was never a happy one. Aerys was unfaithful, and Rhaella clearly disapproved.

Sadly, the marriage between Aerys II Targaryen and his sister, Rhaella, was not as happy; though she turned a blind eye to most of the king’s infidelities, the queen did not approve of his “turning my ladies into his whores.”

This led Rhaella to eventually dismiss her friend and lady-in-waiting Joanna Lannister, who as everyone knows, married Aerys’ Hand, Tywin Lannister. Her marriage suffered as did her health when she lost 5 babies in a ten year period.

Relations between the king and queen grew even more strained when Rhaella proved unable to give Aerys any further children. Miscarriages in 263 and 264 were followed by a stillborn daughter born in 267. Prince Daeron, born in 269, survived for only half a year. Then came another stillbirth in 270, another miscarriage in 271, and Prince Aegon, born two turns premature in 272, dead in 273.

This tidbit had escaped me entirely but when Tytos Lannister died in 267AC, Tywin returned west and Aerys accompanied him with Rhaegar.

Though His Grace left the queen behind in King’s Landing (Her Grace was pregnant with the child who proved to be the stillborn Princess Shaena), he took their eight-year-old son Rhaegar, Prince of Dragonstone, and more than half the court. For the better part of the next year, the Seven Kingdoms were ruled from Lannisport and Casterly Rock, where both the king and his Hand were in residence…

This highlights a period of almost a year where Rhaella and Rhaegar were separated. Again, I can only assume they missed each other- as any mother and child would- but nothing is written of it. It was also during this time that Aerys’ relationship with Rhaella began to show cracks.

At first His Grace comforted Rhaella in her grief, but over time his compassion turned to suspicion. By 270 AC, he had decided that the queen was being unfaithful to him…

Aerys began imposing restrictions on Rhaella at this stage, forbidding her to leave Maegor’s Holdfast and having two septas share her bed. This probably extended to her relationship with Rhaegar too, sadly.

The march of the king’s madness seemed to abate for a time in 274 AC, when Queen Rhaella gave birth to a son. So profound was His Grace’s joy that it seemed to restore him to his old self once again … but Prince Jaehaerys died later that same year, plunging Aerys into despair….

Nothing is mentioned of Rhaegar during these troubling times, but again, I can only assume he was kept separate from the inner workings of the queen’s court and wasn’t fully exposed to his mother’s troubles. We also know he was a solitary child during his early years and preferred books until the age of ten when he decided to take up arms too. He was seventeen when Viserys was born, and was “everything that could be wanted in an heir apparent” and yet it was still overcast by Aerys’ deteriorating mental health. It’s also worthy of note that once Rhaegar came of age, his role in the workings of the court would have increased; he may have sat at council meetings and been prepared for the role of heir. This paired with the fact that he continued to read, train vigorously, and travel to Summerhall on his own indicates that he didn’t really have much of a “family environment” to speak of. I always wonder where he got his love of music from, and I’d like to think Rhaella enjoyed his sad songs and harp skills- but again, WE DON’T KNOW :’(

The birth of Prince Viserys only seemed to make Aerys II more fearful and obsessive, however. Though the new young princeling seemed healthy enough, the king was terrified lest he suffer the same fate as his brothers… Even the queen herself was forbidden to be alone with the infant…

I don’t think Rhaella and Viserys were as close as could be hoped during Viserys’ early childhood. Aerys was extremely paranoid, particularly after the defiance of Duskendale which broke him irrevocably and turned him against his wife and heir.

Convinced that the smallfolk and lords were plotting against his life and fearing that even Queen Rhaella and Prince Rhaegar might be part of these plots, he reached across the narrow sea to Pentos and imported a eunuch named Varys to serve as his spymaster…

Similarly, when Rhaegar wed Elia in 280AC, Aerys did not attend, nor did he allow Viserys to attend. Since there’s no mention of Rhaella being prohibited, we can safely assume that she was in attendance.

They were wed the following year, in a lavish ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor in King’s Landing, but Aerys II did not attend. He told the small council that he feared an attempt upon his life if he left the confines of the Red Keep, even with his Kingsguard to protect him. Nor would he allow his younger son, Viserys, to attend his brother’s wedding…

Rhaegar and Elia took up residence on Dragonstone after the wedding, presumably because Rhaegar and Aerys were definitely at odds at this stage and rumours and paranoia were rampant. There were talks of Aerys possibly disinheriting Rhaegar, Rhaegar deposing Aerys etc. Again, no clue on how Rhaella would have felt about this- but you can probably guess! The only slight snippet we have is when Rhaegar presented Rhaenys in court.

When Prince Rhaegar returned to the Red Keep to present his daughter to his own mother and father, Queen Rhaella embraced the babe warmly…

This certainly gives us an insight to how pleased Rhaella would have been to be a grandma, so I can imagine this reunion would have been very dear to her too. Fast forward to the Tourney at Harrenhal, neither Rhaella or Viserys were present, and had been left behind at the Red Keep. During the Rebellion, we know Rhaegar meant to win the war and bring about change- for his own family too, “... changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but... well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken…”

But when Rhaegar was slain at the Trident,

When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys…

Nothing is mentioned of her reaction to her firstborn’s death (but we can imagine) nor the nine months Rhaella and Viserys spent together, but it must have been a time fraught with worry and fear as King’s Landing fell and House Targaryen was unmade. I feel most deeply for Rhaella’s life, and I wish we had more detail on her direct relationship with her children- particularly Rhaegar- but alas, there is not much to work with. All I can say is, despite her woes and losses and the abuse she suffered, Rhaella was a strong woman, she held her own and was dignified until the end. I’m certain she adored all her children, and the pain she suffered throughout her life affected her acutely, but she remained with her faculties intact and was able to possess the fortitude to carry Daenerys to full-term and deliver her safely, before sadly perishing herself. 

RIP Rhaella, your daughter is amazing and you would be so proud of her, and Rhaegar’s legacy also lives on. VIVA LA HOUSE TARGARYEN!!!! I really hope this answered your question, if not, it certainly made me sad AF to research all this.

#anon asks #chillyravenart answers #rhaella targaryen #rhaegar targaryen #its depression hour #gosh this breaks my heart man

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Budding Blossoms (Steve x Reader)

Anon’s Request: “ Hi! I read your "it starts with a sentence" prompt with Steve and I absolutely love the way you write him. So, I was wondering if i could request something? Like the reader is a big fan of Steve not as Captain America, like as a war hero (because she learns about him in history class or something) and she's always wanted to meet him to thank him for everything he's done, but doesn't think she ever will. But then they meet by chance and just have a deep talk. Thank you 🙏🧡 “

A/N: So honestly, I feel like I suck at writing Steve (which is why it takes me a bit to do the requests, I”M SORRY), so thank you for your sweet words. It means a lot!!!! I’m happy to do this request for you :) Also - I hope you don’t mind the small twist I put in for the reader.

Summary: You had only ever cared for the war hero, never finding interest in the superhero title that the rest of the world had become so obsessed with. But you knew the odds of meeting him were...well, impossible. Or were they?

Word Count:1490 words

Warnings: My friends, tis a bunch of fluff. That is what I have for you. Please - enjoy. XD There’s a bit of angst, but it’s not intentional. It’s all very sweet.

To most, a day that fell in line with all the others was boring. Trivial even. But to you it was the one thing you had become desperate for. The flower shop you worked at was quaint, small even. Yet still wild and unique. It was hard not to find yourself content within its walls. Truly, you could spend every waking and sleeping hour here.

“Have you finished your homework?”

You looked up, placing the watering can next to the long row of roses. Your gaze shifted to your cousin, the owner of Budding Blossoms. She had been working on potting a couple new plants. Knowing how much she was constantly worrying, you reminded her, “I’m not taking classes this summer, remember?”

“Fine, then what about – “

You grinned. “I already took my meds.”

She huffed and asked, “Why do you act like it’s a bad thing for me to worry about you?”

“Because you worry too much.”

“Oh, is that right?” She threw some dirt your way and you ducked, laughing as the flowers proved to be a natural shield.

The familiar ding from the front door brought you two out of your little game. She looked up first as you returned to caring for the plants, surprise evident in her features. “Uh…you guys are Avengers.”

A laugh, boisterous and fun, bounced off the small walls. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have assumed the flowers bloomed a little brighter because of it. But still – you found yourself wondering. Why were Avengers in a flower shop?

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” your cousin assured. “But if I’m honest, it’s more common for men to wonder in here when they’ve upset a girlfriend.” You watched through the hanging ferns, catching glimpses of the man you knew to be Sam Wilson. He was the one laughing, teasing your sweet and far too protective cousin.

“Not a girlfriend. Poor, sweet Clint here,” he said, hands clasping shoulders and jerking the Avenger forward. “Well, he managed to piss off his super-soldier boyfriend. And there is no one better at the silent treatment than that guy, believe us.”

Clint nodded. “You gotta help me out here.”

You heard your cousin agree. Of course she would. There was no doubt that her favorite part of her job was helping people truly in love. She was an every-day cupid, that you were certain. Watching them wander towards the back, to more exotic flowers, you turned on your hell only to stumble into something very big.

Very hard.

And very tall.

You looked up, realizing that you had walked into the third member of their party. “You – You’re – “

He blushed, hand scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m Captain – “

“You’re Steve Rogers.”

“ – America.”

Of all the things you would have expected, his surprise was not one of them. He looked at you as if he had never heard his name said before. A small chuckle slipped past his lips as he said, “I’m sorry, I think that made me sound a bit like an ass.”

“No, it didn’t,” you promised, shaking your head. “You’ve been known as Captain America for how long? I would’ve been shocked if you said anything else.”

“But you called me ‘Steve’.”

“I’m taking some classes at Brooklyn College and,” you shrugged. “My professor thinks our war heroes should be known by their name and respected for it. And I agree.”

Steve looked at you with an emotion neither of you could quite place. He stared with a kindness and familiarity that made it seem as though you two had been friends for years. And perhaps known each other longer. The silence was unsettling not because it was awkward, but due to the fact that there was an immoveable weight there. Silent words begging to be spoken.

But you had more courage to say them first.

“I wanted to thank you for everything that you’ve done.”

His brow furrowed. Clearly, of all the things he could have expected, that wasn’t it.

“Not as Captain America, but as Steve Rogers. You’re…” You smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You’re a good man.”

His brows raised. Once again you had managed to surprise him. Little did you know how or why. There was no way you could know that similar words from an old friend. Dr. Erskine. Not a good soldier, but…a good man.

Steve watched you go about your work. He wanted to talk to you some more. It wasn’t every day that someone was capable of reminding him that he was a human first and hero second. “Do you…” He faltered when you looked his way. “Do you want to get a coffee? Maybe we could talk. I’d happily answer any questions you may have.”

--

“No, I wasn’t trying to act too cool!” You giggled, nursing the coffee in your hands as Steve grinned. “I just – I figured you’re always having to deal with strangers flocking to your side. I didn’t…” You sighed, sitting back in your chair. “I didn’t want to be another person to cause any stress.”

Steve tilted his head. Curious only because most people didn’t think of it that way. To them, he was a hero. And being a hero meant being in front of the spotlight. Hell, it had been that way since he was parading around in the 40’s. “Thanks.” Silence fell, but this time it was comfortable. Easy. “Can I ask you something?”

“Uh…” Now it was your turn to be surprised. “Yeah, of course.”

“I promise I wasn’t being inappropriate,” he started, earning a snort from you. “But…before the serum I was always sick. I was a really small kid and no one expected me to ever live a healthy life.” He cleared his throat and you could feel a change in the air. “Your scar…Can I ask what happened?”

Your fingers instinctively brushed against the spot he spoke of, knowing it traveled farther down. Beneath your tank top and between your breasts. It had taken a long time to gain a confidence in your appearance thanks to that ridge of healed skin. And still – you earned stares. You earned watchful eyes and even more careful hands. Everyone treated you as a doll, too weak to care for yourself.

“If we had met a few months ago, I probably would’ve bolted from the table,” you told him honestly. Nevertheless, your thumb ran across the lip of your coffee cup. “I had a heart transplant earlier this year.” You swallowed, willing the tear to stay away. His gaze, though warm and not at all judging, never wavered from you. And yet you wouldn’t dare look up at him. “Maybe that has something to do with why I respect and appreciate you so much.” You looked up at him, a sad smile curving your lips. “You were so determined to do the right thing. So determined to be good. And that…” You breathed a shaky laugh, a small tear slipping down your cheek. “That means a lot to someone like me. Someone who knows what it’s like to feel limited and know you are…” You met his gaze. “So much more.”

He reached across the table, his hand finding and squeezing yours. It was meant to be calming, reassuring. And god, it did exactly that. He was genuinely…such a good man.

The conversation went on. The pair of you discussed things no one had ever heard from either of you. Talking as if you had known each other for lifetimes, discussing things only someone who lived in a weak body could understand. It was precious.

Intimate even.

“Do you think they’ll come inside anytime soon?”

Sam looked to your cousin, noticing how she gazed out the window. There Steve was still talking to you. And the day had faded away. Sunset was greeting them now. He grinned, highly amused that Steve had managed to find comfort in talking to a woman. There were some days where he still believed that his friend was far more awkward than anyone could ever know.

He chuckled. “Probably not. But,” he looked to her. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

Your cousin thought back to the pain you had endured. All the time you spent clinging to the hope that you would heal. You would get better. You had grown so used to living the days on repeat, simply appreciating their existence, that you had forgotten that surviving and truly living were not the same thing. Nor would they ever be.

“I don’t think so.” She watched the way you both laughed. He had leaned closer, smiling from ear to ear and looking far less like a hero. And much more like a man. You looked so at peace. Happy and hopeful. No, there was nothing wrong with any of that.

If anything, she thought it was very much…right.

#steve x reader #steve x you #steve x female reader #steve x y/n #marvel ask #marvel #mcu #marvel au #marvel request #steve rogers #captain america

[orderuponthe99prettygrimmdiaries]

Road to Recovery 👣

Well, this is gonna be a long ass one. Also, this has been kinda drafted over the past... week? So it’s gonna be a real rollercoaster of a ride. 

Had just binged Lucifer’s new season and was on reddit, looking at comments of redditors yelling at Luci to enjoy whilst he was finding stuff to freak out about. 

Like him, I should have just been in the moment. Appreciated it. Instead of worrying about the next. 

The past week has been.. emotional. Have been getting used to the fact that I might never speak or hear or see him again. Been also trying to focus on the bad to kinda ease the pain. At least it hurts a little less, less crying too. But it’s also like one day you do great, no crying, not much of missing and pain, but then the next, everything creeps in altogether and you fall apart. 

The thing is... why does it hurt so bad? Things had been weird for months. I mean, I was the one who was always preparing myself for him to leave, I was the one who told myself I’d be okay even if we never went on the date. And I guess it just boils back to... expectations. 

I expected him to care more, I didn’t expect that he’d be able to leave just like this. From regular convos to nothing in a week, now almost 2 weeks. I mean, we’ve had breaks. 1 day, 5 days, 10 days... It’s kinda strange if we were actually interested in the other. Maybe he wasn’t much of a texter and wanted to talk when we met. But did we really share much when we met? It’s odd... He doesn’t reply properly to texts, he disappears, he doesn’t really care much at times, but for some reason, I seem to remember the good more. It seemed like he does listen (at times), there were moments when I felt like he cared. A part of me still trusts him or sees the best in him. 

Initially, I was trying to avoid talking about him so I would also stop thinking about him and I could move on. But I think talking about it also helps. Did also google about moving on from crushes, and that is a major point. Maybe I’ll never figure out what really went wrong, but maybe I could still give myself some sorta closure.  Though reminiscing does hurt too. Going back to the place where we met, which is basically my workplace which I’ve to be at almost every day... The memories flooding in about the conversations we had. But it also helps me to acknowledge my feelings and fears, stuff that I suppose I didn’t acknowledge then. Maybe if I had been less afraid and tried harder, especially during the times we were both around considering how hard it was to get our schedules together. He probably thought I wasn’t that interested and moved on. Guys fall fast, but they seem to move on pretty quick too.

Ended up dreaming about him last night... It was really nice. There was a shipment, I didn’t let myself have hope that it would have been him. And he turned around, and it was him. I said hey and touched his arm. I headed off downstairs talking to the other guys, one of them was teasing me for giving him my number. He came down too. We sat there for a bit, and I asked if I could lean on his shoulder, and we ended up hugging too. That was just wonderful, but it’s sad to know it’d never be reality. 

And I guess all those breaks we had throughout the months still gives me the slightest bit of hope that he might return... But now, 2 whole weeks of not speaking. The glimmer of hope fades as each day passes. Maybe, distance is just what we need, I tell myself. 

But now, there’s also a new guy. So I’m guessing the likelihood of seeing him ever again is almost impossible. But is it really so bad if we never spoke or see each other again? Did he even really care? What were we? 

Feels like history is repeating itself, and honestly, after re-reading old posts, maybe it is. Okay, but this time was slightly different. I fought harder. I should be proud that I got his number, or well, convinced him to get mine. I should be proud for initiating those texts, for finally picking up that video call, for asking him out. 

I do wonder at times if it would have been better if I was just honest from the start, that I was interested and I felt there’s something special, different, but not entirely sure what it was. I had friends tell me that I shouldn’t be too emotional about too much, especially at the start. I mean, I did do this the last time, granted they were all online friends, and now we’re still friends. Maybe it’s different being online vs irl. 

Should I continue fighting for him or just let this be another regret/what if? I guess I chose the latter. I was still too afraid to make a move, I was still too afraid to admit my feelings. I wanted to tell him, I wanted to give him the choice. But I was afraid, what if he only says he feels the same because knowing what I felt? I couldn’t take the leap. 

And the more I thought, the less I knew. What did I ever really know about you? What did I like about you? I guess I didn’t listen to myself enough, or to the rational part at least. The closer you look, the less you see. By the time I remember this, it was a little too late... 

I guess I need to stop trying to define everything. Some questions don’t have answers. Some stories won’t get closures. Not all friendships require daily talking. Why aren’t I okay with this? Am I just too attached to everyone? Does my life just basically revolve around people? Who the fuck am I?

I had been looking back at my old posts, all the way back to 2015, the darkest period of my life. I wanted to see what I did then, how did I handle it and pushed myself through. How the heck did I move on? Sure, it took me like... at least 2 years of moping around, then finally actually properly reaching out to get the help I needed. A couple months of counselling, pushing the focus back on myself, on self love and self care.

And all this unravelled within a couple months.

Granted, I think it was already starting to unravel early this year. All these work and personnel changes really fucked things up, with Covid just adding to it. And then comes those unexpected feelings, not knowing how to deal with it, worrying about how I’m gonna fuck it up, and in turn, fucking it up. Also, not giving myself a break when I truly needed it. I was afraid that if I took a break from texting him (okay I wasn’t really obsessively staring at my phone and replying immediately either, but I could have taken a proper break), I might have ended up losing him, and now, I’ve lost myself, I’ve lost him. 

So yep, losing myself... this time, I don’t think I was able to keep it as contained as I did previously. Loss of appetite, exhaustion... I guess at least I don’t exactly sigh as much as I did during the start of the year? But I guess now with Covid and mom at home, she’s noticed the symptoms too. And I guess how I tend to stay cooped in my room, retreat back after meals etc, not really making as much convos with my parents too... Maybe even agitation or irritation as my mom noticed too... 

She thinks it’s more physical, with my abnormal periods and stuff, like maybe I’m anaemic. Oof, and that one day she asked if I was alright because I didn’t seem happy. I literally broke down when I went back to my room. I try so hard to mask it all because I don’t want people to worry, and I want people to still be able to count on me when they need to. Though I’m pretty sure my colleagues noticed too. So I push myself. Sometimes I guess I pretend to be alright, cope with humour as my defence mechanism (self preservation through dissociation, amirite?), but then it comes crashing down the next day or next minute. 

I’m just human. I need to allow myself to feel. I need to embrace that I feel a lot, sometimes a little too much. I shouldn’t hate myself for caring too much, for feeling too much. I need to remember to allow myself to rest, or else this burnt out and exhaustion won’t do me or anyone any good. Yes, I want to be there for others, but sometimes you need to save yourself first. 

I’ve got one life to live, so I gotta live it. Right now it feels like I’m just surviving, otherwise basically floating through time and space. But it’s time to really live. it’s time to stop trying to keep everything under control. Sometimes a mistake is a destiny and sometimes we mess things up for the better. Stop comparing your progress and path to others. 

Recovery isn’t a straight line. You’re gonna feel good and then bad. You’re gonna feel like a bad-ass bitch who needs no one, but then the next you might be crying from the pain of missing him. Sometimes it will just get worse before it gets better. Real growth isn’t linear, it’s a step forward and 20 steps back. You’re gonna be tempted to text him, to hear his voice, to try one more time, but then you also gotta remember all the progress you’ve made. People are hard to forget and change takes time. 

Like Chandler and Joey were nudging Ross to move on from Rachel back in Season 1, maybe your friends had nudged you to move on too. My friends have been. Maybe our happiness just aren’t meant to be with each other. But I would love for you to be happy, even if it’s without me. 

So, I guess imma do a separate post about all the lessons I’ve re-learnt. It was a real headache trying to write this piece already. Thanks to anyone who’s actually taken the time to read this. Take care everyone! 

X

#post of the day #road to recovery #moving on #letting go #love #life #overwhelmed #emotions #guys #closure #relationships #recovery is not linear #live your life

[travllingbunny]

The 100 6x12 Adjustment Protocol

Unpopular opinion: I really liked this episode. Especially the first time I watched it (yes, I watch every episode the second time, usually a day later): it is the kind intense, plot-driven, high-tension episode that keeps you on the edge of your seat, exactly as you would expect from the penultimate episode of the season. My favorite episodes this season mostly focused on characters dealing with their demons and their feelings, but this is the part of the season when the plot has to kick into high gear, going into the finale. And this is not a bad thing at all, although it seems that reviewers mostly think it is, while the Twitter fandom is telling me that this episode was actually terrible, for… reasons. Most of which make no sense or are pretty irrelevant.

Although you wouldn’t know that if you just read what most frequent topics of discussion and comments about this episode are, it was the crucial episode plot-wise as the truth about the Primes was revealed to everyone in Sanctum, but thanks to Russell and co. constantly proving they are even more evil than we could have guessed, Sanctum was thrown into chaos, with violence erupting between believers (i.e. the brainwashed) and non-believers; and it also featured the death a main character who had been on the show and a part of since the start. I’m not sure about how I feel about that death and Abby’s arc as a whole. But in this episode, it was done very well – though it may have been predictable (and was kind of spoiled in the episode promo), and the strongest scene of the episode was Clarke learning about her mother’s death, not long after she had revealed to her that she was alive. (And with this, Clarke, Bellamy and Octavia are the only season 1 characters who were billed as mains and who are still alive - since Murphy and Raven were not billed as main characters in season 1).

Eliza Taylor really carried this episode, and a lot of the tension was about watching Clarke under over and worrying if she would be discovered. Not only is Eliza a great actress, playing Clarke, Josephine, Josephine pretending to be Clarke, and Clarke pretending to be Josephine - but Clarke herself turned out to be an amazing actress and plaed Josephine so well she managed to fool Russell – which her life and many others depended on - while, at the same time, going through emotional turmoil and having to hide it.

 I’m not sure about how I feel about Abby’s death in the context of her entire arc. It’s safe to say that it’s certainly not among the most satisfying character arcs on the show. She started off as an idealist fighting against the Ark establishment and one of the few people on the Ark in season 1 who were doing the right thing, but over the following seasons, her role got a bit lost between acting as the supporting character to Clarke (from giving Clarke moral support, to being controlled by ALIE to create drama for Clarke) and being a part of the Kabby relationship – which, to be fair, was one of the best developed (or very few really developed) romances on the show.  But between the two of them, Kane was the one who got the better character development and arc by himself. Abby was the Chancellor for a while, but then gave up that role in season 3, to be fought over by Kane and Pike. She also got other important relationship as a surrogate parent figure to Raven, and, to an extent, Murphy. But in terms of her arc, rather than her impact on others, she only finally got development in late season 4. Mind you, it was negative character development – which is a perfectly valid narrative choice, but one that fandoms usually don’t forgive characters. Because of the things she was forced to do, she lost not just her moral certainty but her faith in herself and, for a while, her will to live, and then her self-loathing turned into a drug addiction that she struggled throughout season 5. In season 6, she tried to recover, but instead developed a new addiction of sorts – her obsession with saving Kane, largely driven by her guilt over the things she did the previous 6 years and for kind of betraying the man she loves and indirectly causing his death, again (something that haunted her since Jake’s death) – which, in turn, led her to making some terrible choices and crossing moral lines. While I thought Kane’s death was perfectly fitting for his character, and that point, it would have been more interesting if the show had tried to have Abby survive and had to really recover and move on, rather than kill her off just a couple of episodes after killing off the ship she was a part of. One may even wonder if she was seen as useless for the show except as a part of the ship. Or, since her remaining main role in the show was as a mother to Clarke and surrogate mother to Raven, so she got killed off for their development/angst/possible bonding in future episodes. Which does make sense as Clarke is the show’s protagonist, and it was easy to guess that the older-Ark-generation characters (Abby, Kane, Jaha) would die once Clarke, Bellamy and Octavia are all adults and mature enough to not need mentors or ‘adult’ mirrors of themselves. Still, it would have been great if the show had given more attention and sympathetic moments to Abby herself in more than just this one episode, especially since the fandom has become determined to hate her – partially because it was convenient to blame her for other character’s actions, partially because fans are judgmental of any middle-aged mother character – especially if she is the mother of the protagonist – who isn’t focused on her children 100% of the time, even if said children are mature adults. But let’s forget about the fandom. It’s not necessary to have characters who suffer from addiction. PTSD or depression recover – Jasper’s arc was about someone who never recovered, but his death was the logical outcome of his arc and felt inevitable. Abby’s death isn’t really about her arc, it’s about Russell deciding to kill and bodysnatch her. Unlike Jaha and Kane, she didn’t get to go out on her own terms.

(I guess you could say that her injecting herself with Nightblood led to it, but Russell could have had her injected with Nigthblood anyway. Or you could say that he did it because he was convinced that she would look for revenge for her daughter’s death, so it was her love for her daughter that doomed her in a way.)

Still, this episode itself covered her death as well as it was possible to do – even if the fact that Abby got to save the life of a child – her granddaughter-by-adoption, find out that her daughter is alive (after having her heart broken in the previous episode, where she was made to believe Clarke was definitely dead), reconcile with and apologize to the two of the closest people to her, Raven and Jackson, and get closure – was a pretty big hint her days were numbered. Her death scene was good, with flashbacks of her happy days with Jake, with Kane, and many memories of Clarke, but the strongest scenes were those of other people reacting to her death, especially Clarke.

Raven has been a side character this season, but she has gotten some subtle character development lately, such as admitting that was way too judgmental with Abby. While she and Clarke didn’t get to talk things through, Raven has been, in a way, redeeming herself and making up to Clarke by making all the efforts to save her daughter and being focused on that more than anything else, just as Clarke is redeeming herself by trying to do the right and moral thing and save as many people as possible.

I’ve been really liking Gabriel more and more, especially in this episode, when he risked everything to stop more innocent people being killed by the Primes. However, what was his plan, exactly? Distract people and then – what – convince Russell to stop being evil? He is a bit like Kane – a guy who did bad things, had a moral awakening, and is now trying to be perfectly moral, but he is more pacifist than Kane was. And he comes off too naïve and sometimes ineffectual: he doesn’t want to kill anyone and allow any lives to be lost, and he can’t even make himself kill Russell – but if he had killed Russell, taken out and smashed his mind drive, he could have prevented many more deaths. 

Speaking of mind drives, it was smart of Clarke to find the instruments and take out Ryker’s chip and keep it to later blackmail Priya with. I just wonder why more people don’t do the same. Surely everyone should be aware that killing Primes is irrelevant, if you don’t destroy the mind drives? They don’t even have to kill the Primes, for that matter, just take out those drives, smash the damn things, and you’ve stopped bodysnatching.                 

So many comments on this episode were about Clarke and Echo’s hug during her reunion with her, Miller and Gaia. Yes, Clarke and Echo are not particularly close – this season, they were on amicable terms, and Echo was one of the people who wasn’t verbally attacking Clarke, but they barely had any interaction and didn’t have any one-on-one talks since that dramatic conversation in 5x12. So, a hug just like the one Clarke had with Miller was maybe a bit odd/surprising But it was also weird when Clarke called Murphy her friend when she found him Polis in 3x07 – even though they had only had terrible interactions up to that point, or when she called Roan her friend or was on great terms with him a couple of days after he almost started a war with Arkadia and threatened Bellamy’s and Kane’s lives to blackmail her into political concessions. Maybe Clarke and Echo were trying to show the “we’re comrades in arms” solidarity, or are trying to be friends because of Bellamy, or Clarke is just happy to see any of the Earthkru and is glad when they hug her as friends, or a combination of all of that. In any case, I almost feel bad for even discussing this, because it’s been so overblown– the fandom seems to talk more about Echo hugging people than about Abby’s death or the chaos in Sanctum

.Another hug that, however, wasn’t surprising at all., was between Bellamy and Echo, but even that turned out to be an issue, because, apparently, a lot of people were shocked and disappointed by the fact that Bellamy cares about Echo and worries about her life, or that Bellamy and Echo were happy to see each other after not knowing if the other was alive. I’m not sure what exactly anyone was expecting? That Bellamy would say “Who are you? I don’t know you, woman!” or act like he doesn’t give a damn? Echo is one of the people he spent 6 years with, has been at least friends for 3 years, and has been dating for a while, so he would have come off as a real asshole if he didn’t care if she were dead or alive. Of course he felt a lot of guilt over leaving her and his other people, because he was focused on saving Clarke. Especially after Josephine called him out on caring for Clarke more than for the rest of them. He already showed guilt over leaving them in 6x11, so it’s mind-boggling that this is what some say is “inconsistent character behavior from episode to episode”. Also, apparently, when Bellamy and Clarke have the most intense hugs with heart eyes and romantic music, it’s just platonic or “baiting”, but Bellamy and Echo’s hug that was no more intense than that between Clarke and Echo, and that looked similar to how Bellamy hugs his sister (even with the same pat on the back!) is a sign that Bellarke is dead and Becho is endgame (?!) ¯¯\_(ヅ)_/¯Even though, again, like so many Becho scenes, it had Clarke in the frame, focused on Clarke and her sad face more than on Echo and Bellamy, and included Clarke interrupting their hug, twice, once asking Bellamy “What took you so long?” Followed by Bellamy looking at Clarke, while Octavia was watching the situation and glancing at all of them. (I see what you’re doing, show. We’ve been there before - except Bellamy and Echo were kissing back then, not just hugginh, and this is the first time Bellamy saw Clarke watching them.)

Is it too soon for the Blake siblings to already be on such good terms that Bellamy is  even gently joking with Octavia? I’m not sure, but Bellamy has shown a great capacity for forgiveness, and he has now seen enough evidence that Octavia has genuinely changed, which is all he needed.

Bellamy, again, got to be the one to give another speech to the masses, helping kindle the flames of the revolution in Sanctum – though it wouldn’t have worked without Priya telling everyone the truth. (Good thinking on Clarke’s part to take Ryker’s chip, and good suggestion on Echo’s part to suggest using it to blackmail Priya.)  

It’s amazing that the Primes were obviously evil from at least 6x04, but we still keep learning just how horrible they are. Russell is an amazing villain because he is so infuriating – a megalomaniac and a hypocrite who genuinely seems to think he is godlike and has the right to murder and exploit others. And then there’s the way he uses language to normalize terrible things, with terms like “adjustment protocol” (translation: make your own people go wild and kill each other, hoping that the religious fanatics will kill the doubters). He is even funny (unintentionally, on his part) with the way he talks, and in this episode he had gems like “I am disappointed in you, Priya. I am disappointed in all of you” and “ A mind drive is a terrible thing to waste”.

I was wondering before if Russell’s actions would turn a lot of the Sanctum residents against the Primes – and they did, but many of them are way too brainwashed, and his solution was to drop the toxin and cause chaos, while the Primes go to the ship to get away until Sanctum is safe for them again. But why are they so sure it will be and that it’s the Prime loyalists who will defeat kill all the rebels, rather than the other way round? If it’s based on previous experience – that was about fanatics vs people who had doubts, but the rebels who hate the Primes are (at least) just as angry as those who worship the Primes.

And Priya got to experience that when Delilah’s mother killed her to avenge her daughter, after getting a confirmation that Delilah was really dead. It was funny that Priya was still hoping to use Delilah’s name to get them to help her, just as she was lying to Jordan a few episodes ago that Delilah was ‘with her’ and happy. I just hope that someone took out and smashed her drive – and Ryker’s drive that she had in her hands, so we wouldn’t have any more resurrections.

The royal guards were the most brainwashed of them all. They heard Russell more or less admit in his conversation with Echo that bodysnatching was murder, knew he was going to do it as a punishment to someone who almost assassinated him, but they kept believing in the crap about being one with the gods? And three of them got the “honor” to be hosts to the Primes: Jade became Jasmine (after having failed to protect Rose, who was meant to be the host for Jasmine), Gavin’s widow became the host for Miranda, and another guard, a bald white dude, became Caleb.  I can’t say I’m sorry for them – they were really “Too Dumb to Live”.  

It was fun to see Murphy and Emori dressed and made up in the Prime fashion (which looks a lot like the fashion of the Capitol from The Hunger Games) and pretending to be two of the Primes who whose mind drives were wiped by Simone – Daniel and Kaylee Lee. And there was a rare comedic moment when they realized they were playing brother and sister. Russell is a massive troll – he could have given them the identities of the parents, Faye and Victor Lee – it’s not like it would have made any difference. 

Clarke is really an amazing actress, to be able to fool even Josephine’s parents into believing she is Josephine, even when she had to hide her feelings about seeing Madi in pain and danger, and when she learned that her mother was dead. That scene was the strongest in 6x12 – even while we knew what would happen, Clarke finding out by seeing Simone in Abby’s body was really painful. That was too much for Clarke, who couldn’t hide her tears. Good thing that Gabriel was there to help by giving her a cover – and she did a great job playing a scene as a lovers’ quarrel and pretending that her pain was about Josephine’s disappointment with the “traitor” Gabriel. (And channeling a real experience from her own life  – as actors often do.) 

I’ve seen comments that Murphy’s actions in this episode were confusing, but it all seemed pretty clear to me. He told Emori and later Raven that he was doing what was good for their friends, too. He thought they were helping them all survive - which was definitely the case as they would have been burned if he hadn't come up with the idea about bone marrow. Then in 6x11 Russell threatened Emori to get him to bring "Josephine", even though Murphy was obviously already disgusted by the Primes at that point, seeing his reaction to when one of the guards touched him.  I don't know if he's still really interested in immortality, but since 6x10, the issue was "immorality or mortality", the latter meaning – death in the immediate future, since that the Primes were going to kill Emori, and probably him and everyone else. But he expected them to keep everyone alive if they play along. When they killed Abby, it was obviously too much for him, since he said it to "Josephine"'s face, with disgust: "All she did was help, and you killed her". That and knowing that Bellamy, Octavia, Echo and Miller are somewhere in Sanctum needing help, made him decide to stay and help his friends.

I loved the Clarke/Memori scene. I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with Clarke telling Murphy that she’s proud of him, and it doesn’t mean that he does not get held responsible for his actions. He was held responsible in 6x10, to the point that his friends and himself assumed he would be the one chosen to die, and Abby slapped him and told him he would be. Clarke – who may not even know the worst of his actions (that he almost helped Josephine kill Clarke, and that he helped her manipulate Abby) – did not trust Murphy and didn’t tell him she was alive, but was watching to see whether he makes the right choice, and praised him when he did the way a mentor praises a student who fulfills their positive potential.

Quite a scene for Indra and co. at the ship – “Abby” and Clarke in royal robes and some blond guy in similar robes, pointing guns as Gaia, Madi and Raven. I don’t think the Primes have much of a chance, with “Josephine” being Clarke and the fact that the ship has 400 people who, if woken up, would absolutely wreck everyone in Sanctum, let alone a few pampered Primes. But it’s an interesting image: the Lightbournes always seemed like the evil version of the Griffins, especially with the casting choices for Josephine and both the original and the current Russell, so it is weirdly fitting that Josephine bodysnatched Clarke for a while, and now Simone bodysnatched Abby.

Rating: 8.5/10

#the 100 #the 100 6x12 #adjustment protocol #the 100 season 6 #clarke griffin #abby griffin #raven reyes #gabriel santiago #russell lightbourne #the primes #john murphy #bellamy blake #octavia blake

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 10

Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.

Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3

Chapter summary:  Even offers the restoration committee a report of what the apprentices did, but it forces him to confront emotions long held at bay.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

For an unknowable amount of time, Even writes. At first it is spurred on by anger; at Ansem, at the others, at himself most of all--but it seems that, once his fury cools, he can’t stop the words.

Even has never been a particularly poetic person. He tried, in the past, to keep all his journals and reports objective, clean, and to the point. Plainly worded, aside from the necessary technical terms--he himself remembered being incredibly frustrated with how wordy academics could be, so masturbatory in their writings--and neatly detailed.

These writings are clearly something else entirely. Emotion makes the pages bleed. He feels, above all, just a little deranged. He writes about guilt, about pain and remorse, about replicas who are now people, about how agonizingly raw he feels despite the fact that he is still not yet fully human , about DNA and boys from the past and boys from his memories. About what it felt like to be married and then widowed in seemingly an instant. About how his emotions color everything, despite his best attempts to remain reasonable, logical. If he were truly logical, he would’ve been able to end all this suffering before it happened.

When his wrist aches, he changes to a keyboard. He can plainly see spelling mistakes, grammatical aberrations; but he doesn’t edit, not yet. He writes himself into a stupor and falls asleep right on the keyboard, filling twelve pages with the letter F. When he rouses, he feels splitting pains in both hands, especially his dominant; he ices them, wraps them up tightly, and forces himself to sleep on the cot.

He doesn’t feel better, but he feels strangely relieved, like he’s released some pressure. He takes mild anti-inflammatories for his wrists, and drags himself towards his actual quarters.

His phone begins to ring. At first it seems to be from Ienzo; but then he notices the small forwarding icon, indicating the boy missed a call. They’ve set their phones up like this in case of emergency; Ienzo’s the one in contact with the restoration committee. Even blinks a little. Where’s the boy--is he alright? Or is he merely distracted? He hopes for the latter.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

“Oh, finally. I got someone.” A woman’s voice. “My name is Aerith. From the committee?”

He remembers. “I’m Even--apparently Ienzo has seen fit to make me his backup point of contact.”

“None of that matters right now. Demyx lives with you, right?”

Here it goes. How wonderful it would feel to tell the others he’s right. “Yes.”

“He’s very badly hurt.”

The satisfaction turns rank. He stops dead in his tracks. “How so? I’m a doctor--spare me no technicalities.” It feels odd to identify himself so after so long.

“Yuffie--she’s on security detail--found him at the edge of town. Heartless, it seems like. They didn’t get his heart, thank god , but they’ve got him right in the infrarenal aorta. He’s lost something like three liters of blood. I’m trying everything in my power, but--”

“Don’t get my hopes up?” he finds his own heart beating heavily. “Can I be of any assistance?”

“The wound’s already closed--it’s the shock he has to recover from. I’ll… I’ll keep you updated, okay?” She hangs up before Even can say anything else.

Just because Even wants Demyx away from Ienzo doesn’t mean he wants him dead .

And now he has to tell the boy.

He has no idea where to find Ienzo. Not with Demyx, surely. But where?

The lab.

Even finds him in the hallway on the way back. “There you are. Why haven’t you answered your phone?”

The boy looks limp--Even realizes his eyes are red-rimmed. He’s been crying. Of course. Well, bigger fish to fry, in the moment. “Did you call me?” he asks tiredly.

“Perhaps you do not remember, but your phone is set up to forward calls to mine if marked urgent.”

“Whatever is the matter?”

Even hesitates. If they’ve fought or broken up--but the boy deserves to know. His time of hiding things from Ienzo is long over. “It’s Demyx.”

“What about him?” he asks, sourly but not without a trace of anxiety.

“He’s been injured. Mortally.”

His eyes widen; his hands flutter at his throat. Even explains what happened. “So you mean he’s--”

“We don’t know yet. What do you know of this woman’s abilities?”

He shakes his head, his eyes empty.

“You poor boy.” He embraces him, and to his surprise feels Ienzo hug back. He smells so the same as he once did, the slightly sweet scent of ink. “I worry, too. I know how much he means to you.”

He feels Ienzo shudder against him.

“Come. You mustn’t wait through this alone.”

He escorts the boy back to his quarters. Ienzo’s breathing oddly, heavily, and his eyes are so vacant. Even wants to press, to find out exactly what happened, but Ienzo doesn’t need that. He leads the boy over to the sofa; Ienzo immediately lays on his side and curls up. Even drapes a blanket over the boy. He knows nothing he can say or do will be of any use.

After what seems to be hours--hours where Even obsessively checks his gummiphone--Ansem arrives, breathless. “Have you any news? I heard a few moments ago. I was away from the phone."

He scowls. “Oh good, you’re here. Whatever would we do.”

Ansem ignores the barb. “What happened?”

“The usual. Heartless. Only he had no means to defend himself. He did not fall to darkness, but was wounded critically. That’s all we know.”

He shakes his head. “The irony of it. To survive all that, and to get wounded by shadows.”

“So things go,” Even mumbles.

Ansem kneels in front of Ienzo, who’s still supine. When he touches him, Even notices him flinch. “Have hope. I’ll get you two some tea.”

Even grits his teeth. Once he’s out of earshot, he snarls, “The man can take better care of a houseplant than a child.”

Ienzo raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, come off it. I’ve earned a few good digs at Master . He still does not understand people. As hard as he tries. It’s a miracle you came out as civilized as you did.” He sniffs. “Perhaps there is yet some bitterness in my new heart.” His phone started ringing; the boy’s eyes widen with something akin to panic. “Yes?”

“Even? Aerith again. Demyx is alive. He’s recovering well enough, but I had to put him to sleep for a while. The blood loss was really hard on his heart. Vitals seem to be stable, though.” Even can feel the boy’s eyes on him.

“Quite. Quite. I see. At least there’s that.”

Ienzo tenses.

“Merlin and I can bring him there. This isn’t really a good place for a person to recover. I figure you probably know what you’re doing.”

“Thank you. You’re a kind girl.” He explains it to Ienzo, but this doesn’t seem to placate him. Even chances a small smile. “If Demyx is anything, he’s resilient. I have a feeling he’ll be around to annoy us for a long time yet.”

When he’s back in his own bed, the boy is indeed in poor shape. There’s no wound, aside from a scar, and most of his blood has been replaced, but frankly he looks terrible. “So long as you don’t wake him, he’ll recover.” She too looks horrid. Even can remember his own endless days of patient care, how wearing it can be on the body. “When you take a person back from the brink of death, you have to let them sleep. But he should be okay. He’s got a will to live like I’ve never seen. Broke through several layers of sedation like it was nothing.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Even says. “Poor Ienzo has been having conniptions.”

“Are you two close?” Aerith asks him.

He hesitates. “We’re partners,” he admits in a voice hoarse from hours of disuse. Interesting word choice.

She nods. “I’m sure this has been a harrowing experience. But we caught it in time. It’s lucky the Heartless didn’t want his heart.”

“...Lucky,” he echoes.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done,” Even says.

“Of course. I’m happy to help. Things have been so peaceful that this is the first major injury case I’ve seen in several weeks.” She sighs. “These things come and go in waves. Hopefully they don’t get much worse. I’ll come back tomorrow to check on him. Call me if you need to.”

“I shall. There was one thing left I wanted to discuss.” She follows him out the room, but Ienzo remains, taking the boy’s hand, an exact inverse of when he fell ill.

“What’s up?” she asks wearily. He wishes he had an ether for her, but his stores are still decimated.

“What is the medical care situation like around here? You’re not the only one, are you?”

She shrugs, tiredly.

“Oh, no. You poor girl.”

“It’s alright,” Aerith says. “Like I said, it comes and goes in waves.”

“I don’t suppose you could use… an extra pair of hands?”

Her smile seems rather composed. “That’s a very generous offer, but…”

He nods. “It’d be rather disquieting to the patients?”

"Yeah. Kind of." She exhales, smoothing her braid. "I know Ienzo says you all want to atone, and that's only right. At the same time… the darkness has scarred everyone."

"...I see."

"Perhaps there are other ways you can help," she says. "You're all scientists--and the committee is run by largely uneducated people. I'm sure you can be useful. The one thing I'm sure you can do, though…"

"Name it and consider it done."

"You could give me a list of the victims."

She says it so earnestly. Even feels his heart drop.

"We've maintained a list of the missing and presumed dead for years. It might be nice… to be able to give the surviving families closure."

"...Yes. Of course. I will make it my priority. I can give a complete statement."

"That would make Leon very happy… well. Happy as he can be, anyway."

"The truth isn't easy, but it is necessary."

She nods.

"Now go sleep, woman. You look dead on your feet. I've been looking after these miscreants for years--I can handle it from here."

"Be well, Even."

"...I shall certainly try."

He peeks into the room once more before descending back into his lair. Ienzo touches Demyx's face, once, delicately. After all this… Even finds he no longer minds it so much. The boy needs love, and it's clear his own desiccated heart is not capable of providing it--nor anyone else's, save perhaps Demyx.

Love can be more than pain--he remembers that very distantly.

He allows himself to think about that person, slowly, unwinding the defensive chain around the memory. They too were in the sciences, the same doctoral class. They wanted to help people have children--in a roundabout way, inspiring him to consider the body, the replicas--the two of them must've discussed this for hours, the methods and the ethics, until the library closed. That person leaned over so carefully, their hair brushing Even's shoulder--and kissed him, his first.

The pregnancy wasn't necessarily intentional, ironically enough--neither was the following marriage, the proper thing to do at the time--but it was an arrangement that worked, an easy partnership. That period of his life seems long, but it was only seven years from start to finish. Gone.

Perhaps this is why, but when Even unseals his reports from the time before, he can feel the humanity, and despises the utter coldness with which he wrote about their victims. He reads their histories, their stories. He cries. How many children has he taken from their parents, spouses from their partners?

One hundred and twenty three.

From the initial, unharmed participants to the first artificial Heartless, there were one hundred and twenty three people they'd broken; one hundred Heartless.

He allows his wrists to ache as he types the report. In fact, the pain suits him. The document ends up being something like twenty pages, and he still has more to say. Even finds himself trembling, aching. This time he can feel it coming, and eases himself onto the cot before unconsciousness claims him. He wakes. Rather than bathing and sleeping, he resumes his work, trying to edit it into something reasonable. When he has a working draft of this impact statement, he sends it to Aerith, returns to his quarters, and sleeps.

He feels himself becoming… what?

He’s not well. He knows that much. But who dare he ask for help? Should he deserve it?

This is a dark place indeed, even darker because this is what they put their victims through.

He spends several days washing in and out of consciousness, hardly able to move aside from performing the most basic bodily functions. Despite it all, I live, I breathe. Why?

A knock at his door. He ignores it. His body, though underweight, seems to be dragging him down.

A voice, Aeleus’s--“Even? Are you in there?”

He forces himself to his feet, feeling the ground pitch, likely from low blood sugar. He smooths down his hair. “Do you need something?” he asks in what he hopes is a normal voice.

He cracks open the door and enters. “I… have not seen you in several days,” he says. “I… was worried.”

Even forces a smile. “What, about a wretch like me?”

“Yes.” He blinks. “I fear you are more volatile than ever.”

“You needn’t worry. I’ve merely been catching up on my sleep.”

Aeleus goes over to Even’s hot plate, opens up some of the cabinets above.

“What are you doing?”

“Feeding you,” he says. He pours water in a pot, begins making oatmeal.

“Aeleus, I’m a grown man. I can cook for myself.”

He grunts in response. “Because you can doesn’t mean you will.”

“I’m not sure I like what you’re implying.”

“You don’t take care of yourselves--any of you, but especially you, Master, and Ienzo.” He stirs the mixture. “Where do you think the boy gets it, Even? You’re more than your mind. I don’t think I’ve seen you looking healthy since we’ve all been back here.”

“My health doesn’t matter.”

“Yes. It does.” Aeleus turns to face him. “I’ll not have you doing anything reckless.”

Even feels vaguely caught; though why?

He starts making coffee, hands Even the steaming cup. In the winter weather, the warmth is incredibly welcome.

“I feel so cold,” he says softly.

“I know,” Aeleus says. “But you’re thawing.”

“...A lame pun if I’ve ever heard one.”

“It’s true.” He takes a deep breath. “My heart aches too, Even.”

He feels little emotion; but his eyes are watering. “It makes no sense,” Even says slowly. “I… my heart is still a mere fragment, yet I feel… all too much. Scientifically, it just doesn’t…”

Aeleus chuckles a little. “The heart is not bound to logic. Not even close.”

“Aeleus… you have always been… a steady presence.” He takes a drink of the coffee, centering himself with its warmth and bitterness. “I fear I am rather… becoming mentally ill.”

“You’re beginning to process. It’s healthy.” He digs in Even’s barren cabinets for sugar. “I’m afraid the oatmeal is merely plain.”

“You believe this is healthy?”

“Better than absolute numbness, absolute repression.”

Even takes a few timid spoonfuls; he finds it goes down easily. “I feel so… horridly weak. I cannot even begin to…” A bite, a drink. It’s strangely foreign. “I’m giving that nice young woman a… report of what we did. It--”

“Remorse.”

“Yes.” More wetness warms his eyes, but he can’t blink it away this time.

“You should cry. It’s good for you.”

“I’m so humiliated, Aeleus.”

“Who will I tell?” It’s the earnestness that gets him. “We’re all in the same boat. I… myself, in my own quiet moments… I know you know what I did.”

“...What?”

“Ienzo. When he was a boy. Incapacitated him, so you could not take him.” He flinches just the slightest.

“Oh, Aeleus--”

“His eyes were full of such trust… I handed him that cake, knowing full well--” He shudders, almost imperceptibly. “All these years, I have tried to protect him. But I could not stop Axel from--” He trails off.

“Where would I have gone?” Even asks tiredly. “Without the power of darkness, I could not have taken us outside the city limits, where we no doubt would’ve starved, or died from dehydration. Else Xehanort would have found us… and disposed of witnesses.” It takes work, to finish the beverage and meal; once he’s done, he finds himself even more exhausted.

Rather than delve more deeply into this conversation, though, Aeleus looks out his window. “It’s snowing,” he says. “Even, look.”

He crosses over to the other man. Whiteness piles onto the windowsills, the ground. “So it is.”

“I’m… afraid I must tend to the steps, salt them and whatnot,” he says. “But I will be back in a few hours with another meal.”

He takes a breath. “Thank you,” he says softly.

Aeleus takes his hand and gives it a squeeze.

For a long while Even sits by the window, watching the slow fall so slowly. Briefly, he misses his element, his control over it; snow is much more natural than anything Vexen did. Cleansing. Gentle.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees movement. In the courtyard below his window he can see two figures in the snow; the boys. They’re throwing snowballs at one another, an endless volley. (He notes, with pleasure, that Ienzo seems to be winning.) Demyx is teaching him how to play; something they never did. With another swell of warmth, he notices Aeleus join in, pelting the two further.

He smiles a little. He realizes the boy is going to be fine; Demyx truly does care for him.

He bathes, for the first time in days, is able to give Aeleus a meal in turn, though it is flavorless and bland. He still lacks intellectual sharpness, but he’ll settle for simple functionality after all this.

Even begins to pull the shards of himself together.

#beyond this existence: atonement #even (kingdom hearts) #ienzo #aeleus #ansem the wise #aerith #beyond this existence

[kiwi-xeet]

Alright Bioware fandom, we need to have a LONG serious chat about the Bioware DOOM bullshit...

... because this is getting ridiculous. Bioware might be dropped by EA someday, but they also might NOT be dropped by EA. We literally have no way of knowing what will happen. We don’t have enough inside information to predict what will happen.

I’m not about to ignore EA’s bad track record. They dropped Visceral like a box of rocks, right? I am not saying it isn’t possible for Bioware to be canned as well. It IS POSSIBLE. You should all be cautious and not get your hopes too high because you never know when a studio is tied to a AAA company (especially EA), but that doesn’t mean immediate doom. Someone in the industry correct me if I’m wrong, but under AAA companies, studios die all of the time. Regardless, the fandoms opinion may influence more than they know, and when people constantly go into the rant of “EA is Palpatine and Bioware will turn into an EA sith machine. Bioware is pushing political agenda. Bioware’s new live shit is all because of EA.” And then spew these posts on Youtube, tumblr or reddit without any forethought towards the consequences, it just kind of makes what we fear... so much more likely to kill what we love, right? Can you see that logic? Stop allowing our uninformed outrage to turn our fears into reality. Bioware has been known to interact with fans far more than other studios. But not just that, Bioware fans can be very polarized and since the Bioware dev community is so accommodating, I worry about that. Do you think the above worries adds to or diminishes the odds of another Mass Effect or Dragon Age being made? IMO, the biggest and most important thing keeping Bioware creators inspired is the support of its passionate fans who have gobbled up their games like candy. So please stop trying to destroy what you love, but don’t stop giving them your opinions and honest critiques. To youtubers and other game reviewers, please be honest about your reviews but don’t bash a franchise for clicks, instead criticize them for the shit they can improve on. Be honest about the faults but don’t do it in a way that sways a viewer to love or hate the title based on outrage, instead point out the good and the bad and let people decide on their own. Your opinions hold significant weight in the gaming community. I’m not saying we should ignore the terrible state Anthem was ‘released’ in. Seriously, tell Bioware and EA that their incomplete mess was unacceptable, because I agree. EA won’t care because $$$money$$$$, but at least the creative part of the team can see what they did wrong and improve upon it. They worked hard and I can tell they love their work. They are passionate about it, and for good reason. Bioware fans and Bioware devs have both felt the pain of EA forcing an amazing title out before it was ready. DA2 anyone? We don’t need to sit here yelling at Bioware devs for the shit they’ve already agonized over. We need to clearly state our problems by saying “I didn’t pay for this, instead this is what I was promised. I love your game but this is what I want instead. This is what I expected and you didn’t deliver, here is where you can improve. And also, I can wait but this is what we need in the future.” So that EA understands fans hate their rushed releases and devs have feedback that actually helps US, as consumers. I’m not clearing Bioware of all blame, but they have been known for listening to fans and fans go with the attack route first. I.e. Mass Effect 3 ending drama. We can’t jump to conclusions about Bioware’s future, because we aren’t directly involved. I'm just a fan but, even if Anthem does poorly, which it honestly... it has already done poorly, according to metacritic. If my opinion matters to you, I think it’ll be a while until we see Bioware’s demise regardless, but that is just my pleb prediction. It has been confirmed that EA already sunk money into Dragon Age 4, so if anything we still have that. Casey Hudson has confirmed they haven’t forgotten about Mass Effect either. Sure... Bioware could close down tomorrow, and if it did... I honestly wouldn’t be able to properly convey how devastated I would feel if that happened, but we aren’t there yet. And if it did close down, that isn’t Bioware’s fault. And if it did close down, who knows, maybe they’ll pick back up and be even better and rise up apart from EA. Trust me, I worry about it too... more often than I want to admit. It’s actually pathetic how obsessed I am with Mass Effect and Dragon Age. If either franchise was destroyed forever, I would be rendered emotionally useless  as far as gaming goes (and that isn’t an exaggeration), but the reality is that... I am just a fan, so all I can do is put hope and trust in the creators who have carried me along the way with what I can only call brilliance. If the franchise died I’ll still remember the times I sobbed. I sobbed when Mordin walked into that tower despite Shepards protests and then recited his song until the end, when legion made the ultimate sacrifice due to Shepards actions and Tali accepted it and mourned a race she once hated, or when Morrigan told my Warden that she was the only female friend Morrigan ever had, or when Fenris warmed up to a mage(friend or romance Hawke) and Hawke helped him through his trauma, or when Dorian (in a romance) was flirtatious but over time realized he could finally be loved without frivolous expectations, or with Solas where he lost all hope in the physical world and you could give him something to hope for outside of his narrow perspective (friend or romance), or Zevran, where you could have killed him but you finally gave him a purpose beyond veiled slavery and now he has a true friend, Varric, who was always a jokester but found his way to a better family that wasn’t blood related, but everything he ever wanted was Hawke and their friendship could never be broken. Edi and Joker, who both survived the war and symbolized what hope could mean in a time of adversity and diversity. Aveline, who felt her fate was tied to your survival at first, but in time Hawke became her only and most trusted family. Trust me, I have emotional investment in what we could lose. Regardless of what happens I do sense that the people at Bioware are invested as we are. Imo, that is the most important aspect.

#tl;dr #read it #bioware #ea #dragon age #mass effect

[thingsareswinging]

Shine on: ⭐

For your audacity, and since the reaction to this chapter in particular has been unusually positive, you get: the entirety of chapter 9 of Red Hand.

I Should Have Got Up To Stand

The title of this chapter, as with every title of every chapter, comes from a song I happen to have been listening to at the time, and not bothered to think any harder about. In this case, Elton John’s Kiss The Bride.

Like 70% of my Katara/Ty Lee playlist is Elton John songs, do not even think about @ing me.

Mai pushed her broom across the immaculate floor as her boss had his breakfast. He got a lot of mail, and liked to read it with a cup of tea. He read the interesting bits out loud, which was convenient, as it saved her the trouble of learning to pick locks.

“Admiral Zhao’s armada has begun its siege of the Northern Water Tribes. Barring anything unexpected from the Avatar, who has apparently taken refuge in the city, the attack is expected to be decisive. Zhao expects to proclaim victory before the end of the week.”

He turned to his next little message, and paused, delivering his second piece of news with a degree of seriousness that had been entirely absent when he’d been discussing the imminent annihilation of a sovereign nation.

“Princess Azula has been killed, or so the Navy is reporting.”

Mai didn’t miss a beat. “A just reward for traitors to the Fire Nation.”

Master Piandao set his cup down with deliberate care, frowned slightly to himself, and fixed her with a tired look. “Mai. I killed one hundred firebenders rather than go back to the military.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I am the most wanted man on Fire Nation shores.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I know you know this.”

“Yes, Master.”

“So I know you know you don’t need to keep acting like the Minister for Propaganda in my own home.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Because, and I honestly don’t know if this matters to you at all, I find it exhausting.”

“Yes, Master.”

“As long as we’re clear.”

Master Piandao was … not what she’d expected, when she’d gone to him for employment. What she had expected wasn’t totally clear, but if she’d been pressed, she might have admitted to anticipating a dead-eyed sociopath, or an open revolutionary full of plots. What she’d been confronted with was a slightly effete weirdo who complained of headaches a lot and didn’t do much of anything, except the occasional bout of calligraphy. Though to be fair apparently the headaches thing was only when he talked to her for too long, and to be much fairer than Mai had ever been in her life she deliberately wound him up for no reason other than to stave off boredom.

She couldn’t help it, although honestly she’d never tried to. He was just so… safe. There was no menace in the man at all. She’d never even seen him pick up a sword. Maybe the real Master Piandao had been dead for years, or was an urban legend or a regular legend or a mass hallucination, and this guy was just taking advantage of a terrifying reputation. Mai could live with that. He at least made sure she kept up with world events, and she’d been careful to never ask how he knew the things he did.

Speaking of, Azula was dead, was she? Mai would reserve judgement until she’d seen a body, and even then she’d only be moved to a solid maybe.

The Zhao thing was frankly a lot more of a concern, because while nobody deserved things to be going their way less than Fire Lord Ozai, Admiral Zhao was a close second, as far as Mai was concerned.

She didn’t regret leaving, after Zuko’s fateful Agni Kai, but she occasionally wondered if she should, if only for Ty Lee’s sake.

I’ve said it elsewhere, but this scene really only exists to dilute the grim nonsense that is most of the rest of the chapter- I did like using it as the way to signal It’s Siege Of The North Time, though. Also as the way to indicate that maybe the audience shouldn’t take the fact that Azula  got drowned a couple chapters ago too seriously.

It does demonstrate a weakness in my dialogue- when I come up with these quick back-and-forth exchanges, I tend to completely drop any kind of staging.

I also like using the phrase ‘effete weirdo’ as a way of describing Master Piandao.

–

Yue knew that her life was measured in heartbeats. Had known for so long she didn’t even always recognise the odd tightness when it twisted in her chest for what it was, what choked her breathless in the dark when she couldn’t help but think of all the things she’d never do.

So it hadn’t mattered much to her when her betrothal had been decided. And probably she should hate Sokka for making her realise, making her notice how desperately, smotheringly unfair it was, how miserably unhappy she was-

-But he was so insistent and vital and trying so hard to impress her, like her opinion mattered, like she- a girl that did nothing but stay in her room every second she wasn’t reciting lines other people had written for her- was someone he had to impress.

He’d shown her the sky and he’d made her laugh and she wanted to kiss him and he didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know she mustn’t think what he was planting in her brain when he showed her the horizon and offhandedly insinuated how easy it was to leave.

She’d almost believed him, before that horizon had suddenly been ringed in iron.

It was a bit of a challenge to try and a: give Yue a character arc in one chapter, especially considering b: I knew I was going to try and give her an internal motivation that is only barely suggested by canon, and c: she’s a naturally (or has been turned into a) passive person. First Draft Yue was markedly different, in that she was Mad As Hell. This version of the character basically didn’t survive into the actual chapter, but she gets a couple lines here and there. She mostly ended up just really resigned, which I think works better but does make me quite sad.

–

“I’ll go.”

When the plan was announced, and volunteers were asked for, she didn’t hesitate, shooting to her feet, demanding they recognise her, but she knew it was pointless the second the stunned silence fell across the hall. Of course. Of course.

She’d had to fight this whole city from the moment she’d arrived, snap and bite and claw every shred of the respect she knew she’d earned, that had been handed to Aang and Sokka without a thought, and she knew nobody in this city was going to stand up for her, and Master Pakku was going to shake his head and that was going to be that and angry tears were pricking at the corner of her eyes- 

A hand landed on her shoulder. She hadn’t noticed Sokka standing up, beside her, glowering out at the assembled crowd.

“And me,” he affirmed, daring anyone to say anything, eyes locking on to High Chief Arnook and Katara could feel herself starting to grin as to his left the Princess started to shake and Pakku scowled in irritation and Arnook blinked.

“Very well.”

It wasn’t until later, the warpaint prickling against her forehead as it dried, that she realised what she’d gotten them both into. The way Aang had looked at them, like he’d thought he could spare them any of this, had made Katara’s chest ache and wish for time enough to talk, to tell him how it had been killing her to watch him launch himself beyond the walls all day while she sat and watched, but there was work for them all to do.

She’d make time, afterwards. For now, she and Sokka had a job to do.

Did anyone notice what happened here? I had to add an entire extra day of fighting and have Arnook declare what the mission actually was about before he got volunteers (you know, like how volunteering is supposed to work, go fuck yourself, Arnook), in order for this to make sense- Katara only wants to volunteer for the mission because that way she gets a shot at either murdering Zhao, or getting a second crack at persuading Ty Lee to abscond. In canon, this scene happens before the armada arrives.

Normally I obsess over justifying how things like this deviate from canon, but I couldn’t do it here, so I just hid it behind a [and so]. Nobody appeared to notice, or at least care enough to mention it.

And Katara will always, always assume Sokka has her back.

–

These morons were all going to die, and it’d be hilarious if they weren’t also going to drag Katara down with them.

He’d thought, at first, that now he was around real warriors from a tribe that seemed to actually have thrived in the last century rather than get whittled down to a handful of idiots too stubborn to die, that he might learn something, see professionals at work.

But their chief was an idiot trusting this mission to a worse idiot, and although the embarrassment and anger still rolled around his stomach he would still consider breaking Hahn’s nose one of the more righteous things he’d ever done.

Sokka does better in the fight against Hahn than in canon. It’s not just because Hahn deserves to get his nose broken, I promise. Sokka’s escalating violence is something I’m doing on purpose, for reasons discussed below.

Except it’d gotten him kicked off the mission. Which would have been okay, because, again, they were all going to die because their idiot leader couldn’t even pronounce Zhao’s name and they were going to try to blend in-

Except Katara was still going.

He couldn’t protect her. But that, it turned out, had been true all along.

He exhaled slowly, and tried not to notice the way Yue deliberately didn’t look at him.

It was fine, it was okay, he’d deal with it the way he’d learned to deal with everything: crush it up small and wedge it somewhere it wouldn’t get in the way of doing his job.

He followed her gaze, out from the balcony of the palace, across the city, out towards where Aang had catapulted himself into the Fire Nation armada for another day of putting off the inevitable.

There wasn’t anywhere to run to, after this. That worried Sokka. This was the first time they’d been forced to stand their ground for more than an hour, and they were not doing too good at it.

Aang was just… he was so small, so disarming, everything about him screamed vulnerable and Sokka had been trying and increasingly failing to hold the kid at arm’s length all winter, not because he didn’t trust him still, but because the alternative was worrying himself sick over this kid who was currently, at this exact moment- he could see the smoke rising up over the battleships- trying to fight an armada completely by himself without hurting any of them too badly.

Katara called him a pessimist for the things he said out loud. He didn’t know the word for the feeling he got when he looked at Aang and saw a corpse that had just gotten lucky so far, but he wouldn’t voice it for all the money in Ba Sing Se.

Aang and Sokka’s relationship is so great in canon, because they have radically different opinions about the things that matter, but they get along so well all the same. But by this point, outside of Avatar State Berserk Rage, Aang hasn’t done all that much to convince Sokka he might, you know, live. This is one of the few things Season One Sokka is willing to think honestly about.

–

There wasn’t a lot to do but sit around and wait for sunset. They’d wanted to start their infiltration in the daytime, and even after Katara had explained why that was ridiculous, they hadn’t actually backed down until she’d pointed out that the full moon would make her that much stronger. Which let Hahn, in a way he probably thought was subtle, frame it like they were all waiting for her.

Sokka had hated this guy from the second he’d started talking, and Katara was beginning to trust her brother as a judge of character.

“So,” she said, offhandedly, as Hahn diligently set an edge to his machete, the rest of the men doing some other similar activities to make them look like they weren’t just killing time, “when was the last time you fought a firebender?”

It wasn’t a totally cruel question, she told herself, even as his head bent over his whetstone and his ears started to flush. If, somehow, the answer had been anything other than never, that would have been good to know. She’d seen her brother learn how to fight, in a rough kind of way, on their trip north, learned herself, but she knew she had an advantage he’d never have, and he’d learned the hard way not to charge a firebender with a spear, not if you didn’t have a fantastic plan.

But it wasn’t just Hahn that was looking uncomfortable, Katara noticed, with growing discomfort. All the men were suddenly looking a lot busier than they had a second ago, like they were afraid she was going to ask them an uncomfortable question next.

Katara suddenly had the awful realisation that she was probably the veteran in the room.

“Hahn,” she asked, more seriously than she probably meant, “was Sokka breaking your nose …the first fight you’ve ever been in?”

His lack of an answer was answer enough, but he didn’t even have the good sense to look scared, just annoyed, possibly because a girl was having an opinion where he could see it. Like all those times he’d sparred with someone who would pull him up off the ground when they won and congratulate him on a fight well fought somehow counted. Honestly, Katara and her brother had at least hunted their own food before Aang had showed up- Hahn looked the kind of pampered that only had only ever thrown spears at practise dummies.

Oh, oh this guy was going to die. He was going to die and get them all killed. If she didn’t do something about it.

Another ‘light’ scene, continuing the theme that Katara Gets No Respect In the North. Also marks the point at which Katara determined that Hahn had to live, which still irritates me. But if he died, there’d never be a point at which he realised Katara was right about everything.

–

The sun set early this time of year. Sokka guessed they should all be grateful that Admiral Zhao had been stupid or arrogant enough to attack in winter at a full moon. Firebenders got a lot less impressive at night. Not not-dangerous, but… less dangerous.

Aang had come back from beyond the wall, now the sustained assault was more manageable. Which was a result. But he’d looked even more ragged than he had at sunrise, and as Sokka fussed around making sure the kid at least drank some soup, he tried to not make a big deal out of the way Aang’s head bobbed down to his chest before jerking suddenly upwards again.

He should probably let the kid sleep. He should probably do all kinds of things.

He stood to one side, as much a part of the scenery as he could make himself, as Yue sat next to Aang and started to speak.

Sokka: oh man Aang’s going to absolutely die, so I won’t bother getting attached

Sokka, also: Aang drink some soup and make sure you go to bed on time

–

Zhao spared a cursory glance at the distant ice wall, and the soldiers being repelled from it, clearly visible under the moonlight. He wasn’t too concerned. Most of them weren’t even firebenders, only needed to keep the pressure on the defenders, keep them tired, hold them in place for the true assault.

He pulled his cloak around his shoulders, but not so close that it wouldn’t billow appropriately, and made his way carefully to the front of the small landing craft, as his hand-picked men filed in behind him. They were the best he had, for now. He’d have better soon.

He wasn’t amazed that his plan had never occurred to anyone before, but he was smugly reminded that victory was so often a matter of audacity.

Zhao grinned, and cracked his knuckles, to set the right tone. He’d originally had a longer speech planned, but Pouhai Fortress had been instructive in a lot of ways, and so he’d boiled it down to the one sentence that mattered.

“Gentlemen,” he announced, to the crowded landing craft, turning back to face his men, one foot rested dramatically on the prow in a way that would be easy to replicate for the portrait later, “prepare for infamy.”

If he had waited, coincidentally, about as long as his first draft speech would have taken, his strike force would have collided with a series of sleek Water Tribe canoes heading in the exact opposite direction. Which would have been embarrassing all round.

Zhao’s first appearance in canon has him getting beaten up by a teenager that has already been established as Not A Credible Threat. Zhao’s last appearance in canon has him getting beaten up by a lemur. Zhao gets no respect, and this is an important aspect of his character.

–

Yue sat on the warm grass, and watched Aang’s knees fold underneath him, as the tattoos on his head and peeking out beneath his sleeves filled with soft light, like one of those strange fishes that lived in the deepest parts of the ocean where the sunlight never reached.

At least this way, she’d had some part in it. If she was doomed to die to save the moon, at least this way she’d been the one to get the Spirits involved. That didn’t matter, except to her, possibly.

Across the pond where Tui and La chased each other endlessly, by the only entrance to the grotto, Sokka was standing, awkwardly, trying not to look at anything, and yeah, she got that. She-

She saw him look up suddenly, head cocked towards the entrance, and pull his machete free from its sheath with terrified urgency, as the sounds of fighting reached her ears.

Oh no.

Angry Yue makes a small appearance here, deciding that she’s going to get at least a little agency, in a way that isn’t about trying to live.

Yue makes me very sad 100% of the time.

–

“He’s not here?” Hahn proclaimed, indignantly, as Katara’s grip tightened on the front of the crewman’s coat. The crewman looked appropriately intimidated, as the ice that pinned him to the wall began to crawl up towards his throat.

“He went out, took a few landing craft with him,” he elaborated, shallow-breathed, and Katara could feel the dissonance radiating off of Hahn, the confused relief clashing with the disappointment that he had somehow managed to live this long.

“Back to the boats,” Katara snapped, turning to face the huddled warriors in their out-of-date armour. “Go. Maybe you can still catch up to him.” They couldn’t, not without Katara there to speed the canoes along, and speaking of: “I’ve still got something to do here.”

If Katara had expected Hahn to seem conflicted at the thought of leaving her on an enemy ship with no obvious way to escape, she would have been disappointed. But she hadn’t, so she wasn’t.

In the silence left in the wake of fifteen men trying not to look like they were running for their lives, Katara turned back to the gentleman who had been so cooperative earlier. He flinched under her gaze.

“I’ve already told you, the Admiral isn’t-” he protested, but Katara let her teeth show.

“I’ve got a couple other questions, actually.”

Katara’s interrogation techniques are questionable and would constitute torture in a world where frostbite exists, but I get to indulge in a little rank hypocrisy and just not talk about that, since it’s not the point of the fic. Presumably she let the guy out after asking him for directions, at which point he was killed by a fish monster, so nobody learned anything here.

–

When they told this story, in the years and decades that followed, he would ensure they got this scene right, as he burst into the grotto, the home of two Spirits that had dared come where they were not needed, his remaining soldiers at his back-

He got three strides onto the grass before there was a commotion behind him. As he turned, he saw one of his lieutenants go down, blood spraying from his neck, a young savage bearing him to the ground teeth bared in a snarl typical of his kind, but before Zhao was forced to interrupt his moment of triumph, another of his soldiers took initiative, knocking the boy to the ground with the butt of his spear, and impaling him through the stomach with the blade of it in one smooth motion.

Right. Where was he? Ah, right, triumph.

A native girl with startling hair screamed as they approached, but that was only as notable as the colour of her hair- as she was tackled to the ground before she could come within ten feet of him, Zhao’s eyes were suddenly fixed on an unexpected development.

The Avatar, lit up in pale fire like he’d been the night he’d torn Pouhai Fortress apart, cross-legged on the grass, apparently insensible. For an instant Zhao couldn’t breathe, but as the seconds ground on, it occurred to him that if the boy couldn’t hear the screaming, then he was probably safe to approach.

“An unexpected bonus,” he mused, for the benefit of- no, his lieutenant was dead, wasn’t he?- for the benefit of posterity, then. “We’ll take the brat with us. He’ll be a useful hostage, and killing him would just reset the cycle anyway.”

“Admiral, what about the girl?”

Zhao turned to see that two (it had taken that many? He despaired, he honestly did) of his men were holding the girl on her knees, one with his knife to her throat. Apparently they weren’t able to figure out the last step on their own.

“Kill her,” he instructed, hoping to convey with tone alone how much he resented them wasting his time with this kind of triviality.

As the blade flashed across her neck, he turned, satisfied that there would be no further interruptions, to the pool.

Zhao does not care about our heroes, or about his men dying, or really anything other than how cool this is going to look in the press release.

I deliberated a lot on how bloody to make this- at one point I was considering reversing the injuries, and leaving Sokka with a permanent speech impediment from a slit throat- but in the end that felt just barely more gratuitous than I was willing to go with.

–

Koh was curling around him and telling him everything he didn’t want to hear- the Spirits couldn’t help, they were in danger too, and Aang couldn’t even think about that because he had to concentrate on playing the game, keeping his temper and his face slack and suddenly the spirit howled, louder than Aang could contemplate, more sound than a mind could hold, and he was flung backwards with the weight of it and a long, impossibly strong black-and-white hand was reaching into the hollow and grabbing Aang by the scruff of his neck and wrenching him backwards, flinging him towards himself and back towards his body in a rush of wind and light and he opened his eyes.

Zhao, looming over the pool, eyes glinting with dark joy, the lifeless body of Tui dropping from his opening hand, flopping back into the water, the screaming still echoing in Aang’s head, the black and pulsing rage overtaking him as his eyes rolled over the red-armoured men filling the grotto, to Yue-

Blood spilling from her neck, falling forwards. The screams grew, welling up from the ground, the water, drowning everything else in the world.

Aang surrendered.

As he unfolded, fast, faster than he’d ever moved before, as though he could make up for being too late, Zhao turned to look, jaw dropping, and there was something in his eyes that Aang never wanted to see again. And then his arm was grabbed from behind, wrenched upwards, exposing a gap in his armour, just below the armpit, and Aang recognised Sokka just as he jammed his long knife into Zhao’s side once, twice, and pulled it back bloody before plunging it into the Admiral’s throat.

One of Sokka’s fists was black with blood, and he let the knife stay with Zhao’s body as it toppled, and Sokka sank drunkenly to his knees, hands screwed up over the hole in his stomach.

Aang didn’t remember much after that. Not until later.

A lot here.

1- Aang’s rampage getting deliberately tied to the fact that he thinks he watched Sokka die is a deliberate twist, and sets up the epilogue for this book.

2- Zhao very nearly lived to be a threat in book 2, but I nixed that almost at the last minute. In the first draft it was Katara that killed Zhao, as he tried to flee the city, in a scene that much more closely mirrored Zhao’s canon death. After that, he, as I said, almost became an antagonist in book 2, but the problem there is that a: it’s only possible to have Zhao be a semi-credible threat when he’s up against book 1 Gaang and their low levels, and also b: it futzed with Ty Lee’s character arc in ways you can probably figure out

3- This, currently, is the peak of Sokka getting his Old Ultraviolence on. I didn’t want to make it… ‘unrealistic’, and have him winning fights due to him being So Cool And Strong, You Guys, but, and I don’t think I’m surprising anyone too much here, a lot of this fic is about the expectations placed on what, in our society, would be considered children, in the context of a hundred years of no-holds-barred war. Sokka has always been kind of the Boromir of the group, doing what he thinks society needs him to do, so, knifemurder.

Season One Sokka is a much more serious cat than Season Three Sokka becomes, and that’s not a bad thing- admittedly, the humour wasn’t always to my taste, but there’s a reason it happened- by Season Three, Sokka isn’t under the same kind of (largely but not entirely self-inflicted) pressure he is in season one. He’s come to terms with letting other people share the work, and so is freer to relax a bit.

–

Yue had reduced the world down to the ten feet between her and the body of Tui. There was light, and sound, and pain, too much of all three to understand, and all she could do was drag herself forward by her fingertips and hope that she was heading in the right direction. She thought she was, but it’d be embarrassing to die crawling away from her destiny.

She couldn’t breathe but she had to force herself up and her heart rattled in her chest but she was so close and there was Sokka, sunk on his knees, unmoving, surrounded by bodies, eyes wide and white and agonised and she needed him now as she dragged herself forwards and she thought she saw him look to her but she had to drop down again, the grass against her cheek and her neck screaming across a jagged cut.

She gestured, muzzily, waving her hand towards the pool, no longer able to lift her head up off the grass, desperately hoping he’d understand, somehow.

I wanted to thank you, she thought, blearily, as the world went dark, you made me feel like a person.

His hands tangled in her coat, pushing her forward with a screech of agony- this stupid corpse she had to drag around- but her hand was trailing in the pool and if she could just find the body before her heart realised she was dead-

The final burst of Angry Yue! ‘This stupid corpse she had to drag around’ is a nod to blatantly stolen from one of my favourite fics of all time, but it’s a Homestuck fic so I figure the Venn diagram is disparate enough that I can get away with it.

Also, Sokka figures out what Yue’s trying to do pretty quick. The reason for that is because he knows the pool’s water is super good at healing. He thinks she’s trying to save herself.

–

Ty Lee was jerked out of fitful sleep by a hammering on the door, ringing iron echoing through her tiny box that Zhao still thought was a prison.

For a few blissful moments, she ignored it, buoyed up by the vague knowledge that Zhao had other things on his mind right now, but as the seconds wore on and the sounds of fighting, muffled, drifted through the outer wall, she knew it was only a matter of time before- the banging started again, quicker, and Ty Lee swung her legs over the side of her bed, and stood up, bare feet sticking slightly to the cold metal of the floor.

She slid back the peephole and blue eyes stared back.

Ty Lee was backed up away from the door in an instant, but there was a voice-

“Hi, uh… I just realised I don’t know your name?”

A voice Ty Lee recognised. She slipped back to the door, with less caution than she should, because this couldn’t be happening, right? This kind of thing didn’t happen. Not to her, anyway.

“It’s you,” she breathed. “The waterbender.”

“Yeah. I’m here because you didn’t say no.”

She hadn’t said yes either. Saying either would have required more courage than she could muster.

“I guess I didn’t,” she replied. But that didn’t make sense, nothing about this made any sense at all. She was in the guts of a battleship in the middle of a siege, and this girl was somehow here, and she was supposed to believe it was for her?

Was this about the kiss?

The thought screwed Ty Lee’s stomach up in knots, but before she could even imagine how to approach that, the girl tried the handle. It didn’t give.

“It’s locked,” Ty Lee pointed out, hopelessly. “I don’t have a key.”

“That won’t be a problem, trust me,” the waterbender responded, without a second’s hesitation, and that was it, that certainty in her voice, the same certainty she’d used to offer to take Ty Lee away, in the festival, when she’d had a real chance to get away. She’d not taken it. “You coming?”

Now? She was at sea, with Zhao on the verge of an overwhelming victory, and nowhere to run. Running now would be a terrible idea. Ty Lee was pretty sure that everything she’d ever done had been a terrible idea, though, so that balanced out?

“Okay,” she said, quietly enough that she wasn’t sure the waterbender had heard, that she could still take it back-

“Alright stand back,” -okay never mind apparently the girl was very ready to go, and as Ty Lee took half a step back frost blossomed on the hinges and they cracked and screeched and snapped, the door dropping downwards, revealing a sliver of torchlight, and a proffered hand.

Ty Lee has never been good at turning down a commanding voice and the promise of Adventure. 

I considered doing a bit where Katara couldn’t bend and didn’t know why, but that would have killed the pacing, and also made Ty Lee’s decision to go with her seem even more of a bad idea than it already looked. We all know that no moon= no waterbending, so there wasn’t a need to explain why Zhao killed a fish anywhere in the chapter.

I won’t be able to pull that kind of trick forever, assuming that at some point we will jump the rails of canon, so I’m making full use of it while I can.

–

The absence of pain was jarring, or would have been jarring if she was still alive enough to understand pain, or surprise.

Sokka was on his knees in front of her, slick with blood, eyes shining as he looked at her like a drowning man staring one last time at the sky.

I like this simile for a lot of reasons.

If he was looking at her, that meant she was real after all. She’d not been sure. But he was looking at her, had been looking at her the moment she’d met him, and that kind of constancy was reassuring. It’d been so intimidating, at first, the attention of this strange young man who’d been places and fought monsters she could hardly imagine, who’d showed her the sky and acted like there was nothing wrong with her wanting to leave, like there was nothing wrong with her wanting.

A thousand fractal futures splayed in front of her, and he was hers in none of them. If she’d still been human, she might have been disappointed.

There were… words, words she should say, but she’d never been good at marshalling them on her own and she didn’t have any now, as he looked up at her through tears and blood with an expression on his face fit to break her heart again and the part of her that was-had been-human couldn’t stand it any longer and she leaned in and kissed him before she learned why she mustn’t.

There was an awful sound in his throat as he leaned into her, and it occurred to her that he was dying. Well. If she was meddling, she might as well do it properly. Through his breath into her mouth, she concentrated.

Pull, she instructed, and his ruined organs began to thread themselves back together, blood flowed, muscles knit and skin folded back and when she was done he was as whole as she could manage. She pulled back, smiling, letting him know it’d be okay, there was nothing he could have done.

He didn’t look like he believed her. Possibly it was too much to try and tell him with a smile.

Originally, Yue got a lot more temporal in Spirit Form, but honestly it was too disorienting and not really supported by canon and, most importantly, not relevant, so it mostly vanished. The only line that survived that draft was ‘A thousand fractal futures splayed in front of her, and he was hers in none of them.’

That line survived because, real talk, it’s a contender for Favouritest Line I Ever Did Write.

An idea I wanted to get across is that Yue is now both more and less than human- she’s kind of blissed out on immortality, and doesn’t have a connection to her emotions any more. In a Discworld Death kind of way, she Thinks Sad, rather than Feels Sad.

I have no idea if Yue can heal, but I don’t care.

–

The sea was rolling, the ship was lurching, salt water was being flung across the deck, there were firebenders running this way and that -thankfully too busy to pay attention to her right now- and in the middle distance the sea had risen into the form of a giant monster that was smashing the Fire Nation fleet apart like so much driftwood, which Katara couldn’t even begin to figure out.

Katara had officially run out of options.

“Hey!” she yelled over her shoulder as she turned. “You ever fallen in freezing water?”

The girl’s eyes were saucers, terror blazing from them, fixed on the glowing titan. “What? On purpose?”

“Ever! Do you know how-” the ship convulsed, and okay, no time- “never mind! Just hold on!” she ordered, pulling the girl close, wrapping one arm around her waist, gratified to feel her arms lock around Katara in return. Good. She needed a hand free for this.

The little Sokka that lived in her hindbrain was telling her that this wasn’t the ideal moment for testing out new ideas, but it was probably this or drown or pray. Katara wasn’t good at praying, and she wasn’t keen on learning how to drown.

As the ship bucked in the wake of the monstrosity slamming a fist on a ship half a mile away, Katara sprang, launched through the air by the momentum of the rolling deck, and she felt the girl’s arms tighten around her as she reached out towards the rolling blackness of the sea and-

-and the sea reached back, and grasped her hand.

I kind of wish I’d done more with Fishmonster, but honestly, again, it would have messed up the clean parallels between Yue and Ty Lee, which I was proud of and didn’t want to risk knocking over.

The visual rolling around in my head the most here was Luke at the end of Return of the Jedi, hauling Vader to the shuttles while stormtroopers run around, not paying any attention to the main characters.

#my formatting should work now #did I have a writing tag?

[clarelynot]

The day i found out

It’s been 3 and a half weeks since i received the phone call that changed my life. 2 days prior to the call, on a Saturday, I had travelled to a breast surgeon’s clinic for a biopsy that I hoped would confirm that the lump i felt in my left breast and the many swollen lymph nodes that were discovered in the ultrasound were nothing to worry about. But it wasn’t the case. The receptionist, i knew, would tell me immediately on the call what the results said. I saw the call come in in the middle of my work day. I was designing something for a client, racing against time because it was due at the end of the day, not really thinking about the results. I had, earlier that day, thought briefly about it, but i honestly expected the call on Tuesday at the earliest. The lab was only looking at my sample today, right? Won’t be so quick. Don’t obsess. But then there it was, the incoming call, “Dr Hoe’s clinic” flashed on my screen. I grabbed my phone immediately, took a deep breath, told myself it would be good news, and picked up before i could think twice. 

“Hi Clarissa. It’s C from Dr Hoe’s clinic. We got your results. Need you to come in to see the doctor tomorrow at 11am, there is no other slot. Afraid it’s not good news.” My heart sank. I let out a shaky breath and felt Kenneth come up behind me. “What do you mean not good news?” I asked, but I knew. “Confirmed cancer”, the recep said. “Oh, okay.” “... and your lymph nodes are involved.” 

I remember the feeling of doom that came over me. It lasted about a second, then arrangements had to be made to confirm the appointment. “I’d have to take time off work, someone needs to cover me, I need to tell Eileen. And Teresa. Oh wow.” The thoughts raced in my head. And then once i hung up, Kenneth, in disbelief, teared up. I dunno how, but in that moment, my first thought was “It’s okay”. I had spent weeks obsessing over the fact that I potentially have cancer. I had gone over the “what if”s a thousand times, and in between the “I really hope not”s and “I don’t think so la! What are the odds?”s, I made sure to really let this message sink in - that if it really was cancer, it would be okay. 

I broke the news to a few colleagues first, then a couple of closer friends, and then my sister. By night time, enough people knew, and I already felt like I had started to prepare for battle. My sister introduced me to a friend of hers, who, 2 years prior had battled and survived breast cancer. Within half an hour I was on a video call with a total stranger, talking about my situation, feeling the support from across the world, where she currently is located. This total stranger called me 3 times that night, offering support, promising to be there for me, sharing her experiences, comforting me, helping me in a way that only someone who has been through this can.

It’s so amazing, God’s provision. At every single point of this journey, He has provided me with every single thing i’ve needed. I’ve not had to worry about hospital bills, because my company’s insurance agent has helped Kenneth and I through the maze of claims and what’s claimable and what’s not. My mother in law offered to cover the cost of my treatment. Several people recommended the same breast surgeons and doctors, from colleagues, to friends, to the strangers who became friends overnight. And just crazy connections and coincidences. A friend who knew said doctors personally helped with making appointments happen, lining them up one after the other. It really must be mentioned how efficient Singapore’s private healthcare system is. I got my biopsy done on a Saturday, and by Monday i had already gotten my results. Within a week I had a treatment plan set out. 12 days after my biopsy, I was sitting in my first chemo session, having consulted 3 breast surgeons and an oncologist, gotten a multitude of tests done, including a PET/CT scan, an MRI (horrific omg - more details soon), more ultrasound scans,  a mammogram (not pain la), heart ultrasound (this was so chill lol), and a blood test. I went under GA to have a portacath impanted, and to put in tumor markers into the lump and the biopsied lymph node - that was weird. & Not entirely related or anything but within the 12 days I even managed a dental appointment where I got 3 fillings and a root canal done? Hahaha. 

Everything just moves so fast in private, which is really why I feel so blessed to have access to it. And I’ve not felt alone for a single moment since I found out. And though there are moments when I’ve despaired and broken down, I’ve had so much support around me. Family has been a rock, friends have been listening and praying, everyone around me has rallied to fight this war together. And it’s all because God has provided. <3 Am I aware that this disease is a pain in the ass? That I could die? That this is serious, it’s f*cking cancer. Yes. But what i’m even more aware of is how blessed and lucky I am. Even the fact that this happened during COVID and an era of work from home is such a huge blessing - because Kenneth has been able to be by my side 24/7 through this. Imagine if this happened when we were still in offices, I don’t think i’d survive having to be apart from him. Yes, above all else, a cancer diagnosis turns you into a needy clingy koala bear. 🐨 Though I have to battle this crazy disease, I know that the war has already been won. That night I found out, I cried buckets, grieving the life i had lost - because let’s face it. Life as I knew it ended the second I heard the news. But God, the restorer, the healer, who has won the victory, held me tight in his big arms and somehow got me through it. And of course Kenneth helped ;) 

One day I’ll look back on this journey and realize how much i have gained. And in a crazy way, ever since I’ve gotten the news that I have cancer, every single thing in my life is now better. So i’m starting this blog to document this journey. And i’ll tell you all about everything I’ve been through, if you are interested. I’m only at the beginning now, having had only 1 chemo session so far. My hair is still sitting pretty on my head, but I know it will soon fall off. More things are going to change. More battles up ahead, a whole lifetime of them.  But hopefully someday someone who just got their diagnosis may chance upon this blog, and it would help just a little. :) If you are who I am describing, and you’re reading this - it’s gonna be okay.  x, Clare