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hunzzzzz · 3 months

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Fight for you - Chapter 1 : strangers

Kendall Roy x original female character

Themes : slow-burn / enemies to lovers

Okay guys this is my first time writing if it’s terrible I’m sorry

Blurb :

Harper Aly is broken. Hanging on by a thread. Desperately trying to fix her life. Kendall is like a breath of fresh air, pulling her out from the deep end.

Kendall is also broken, but something about her makes him want to fight for her. Fight against himself to a better man, be the man she deserves. She was like the first daffodil of spring, after a cold, miserable winter.

Their lives end up entangled in one another, emotions are high, working together gets complicated, promises are broken.

Can Harper give him a chance, despite her trust issues?

Can Kendall prove to be the man that he says he is?

It had been another seemingly endless day at work, to the point where my mind was anything but focused on the task in front of me. Letting out an exasperated sigh I glanced at the clock, 10 minutes past 7. I longed for the day I would leave the office at an acceptable time, as mentioned in my contract. Exhausted, I flung my glasses on the table and made my way out of the office. By the evening time my contacts had dried out and I had switched to my glasses. The building was practically empty, through my blurred vision I could make out a few stray lights on. It was nice knowing I wasn't the only one slaving away at this hour. I hadn't seen daylight in the past 2 months, my pale skin and sunken eye bags could attest to this. My team had been working relentlessly on an upcoming project, and the grunt of all the marketing and PR work landed on me.

I made my way up to the roof, the the only part of my day that I looked forward to. I closed my eyes, taking the first drag of my cigarette. The nicotine buzzed in my ears, feeling the day's tension slowly drift away. I often came here when the building was scarce to stress smoke in peace. I had never been an avid smoker, just the occasional cigarette if I was particularly inebriated. But when life gives you a fiance who publicly humiliates you in front of the whole world, you tend to pick up a few bad habits. The combination of the man whom I loved, cheating on me, combined with the overbearing workload, had plummeted me to an all time low. I walked towards the edge of the building admiring the admiring the view below. New York was beautiful at night, I found solace in the city lights. From this height I couldn't make out what was going on below. It was an escape from the hustle bustle of the city, I could finally hear my thoughts so clearly.

“Do you ever just think of jumping?” I was ripped from my tranquil state. I snapped my neck to my right to identify the culprit, squinting my eyes, trying to make out who it was. “Just imagine the adrenaline coursing through your veins.” Said the blurry man as he brought his cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. I was so lost in my own world, that I hadn't even heard him creeping up beside me.

“Yeah you should test it out. Let me know how it goes.” I snapped, annoyed at the stranger who had rudely interrupted my peace of mind. The 5 minutes of the day that help keep me sane, keep me afloat.

“Uh, okay. Not your day huh?” He chuckled. He had the audacity to find humor in this, it made my blood boil.

“If you keep talking to me I might actually just jump.” I attempted to climb up onto the ledge.

“Okay- fucking extreme reaction. Fine.” He sputtered, backing away, hands held up in surrender. “ Okay look- just can you please- just fucking get down now.” I retreated back down with a victorious smirk. Grateful to finally be left alone, I wasn’t particularly keen on making small talk with some cocky guy from the financing or legal department, I had already done enough of that for one day. I took the last few drags of my cigarette and tossed it away without a care, watching it fizzle out on the cold concrete.

“Theres literally a fucking trashcan right beside you, but no- by all means please litter.” I must have jumped 10 feet in the air, startled hearing the same voice behind me, I scrambled back only to be met with a firm chest against my back. He gripped my wrists from behind as I instinctively brought them up to do God knows what. “Hey, hey- it's still me.” He chuckled. First this man ruined my smoke break and as if that wasn’t enough, now he amped it up a notch and tried to send me into cardiac arrest, some people just have no shame.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” I all but shrieked, trying to thrash away from him. “Dude, let go of me, or I swear to Go-”.

“Or what? You’ll- uh, fucking threaten to jump off the building again?” He mused, using my own words against me. “Hey easy, easy. I just thought I’d stick around you know given that you’re a suicide risk.” His deep chuckle vibrated through my body, his breath sending chills down my spine. I could feel his chest rising against my back, his intoxicating cologne burning my nostrils. The scent, the exact same one that left me shattered in a million pieces. It all just became too much, my mind began flooding with sour memories from the past.

“Just leave me alone.” I muttered, my voice shaking, as I finally broke free of his death grip. Slumping my shoulders over the ledge, cradling my head in my hands. I rapidly blinked, trying to ward off the tears that threatened to spill, I can't let myself go back to that place. I won't let myself.

“Oh shit- I was fucking joking. Are you okay?” I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Look I’m sorry please don't cry. I’m sorry, I’m a fucking idiot.” His voice was soft as he tried to awkwardly comfort me, trying to make sense of my sudden burst of emotions. Rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades. I shrugged his hand off, and cleared my throat, straightening my back, ready to tell him to go to hell. I turned to face him, only to be met by soft chocolate eyes piercing into mine, full of concern. Timidly breathing as though, any sudden movement might push me over the edge, emotionally .

It felt as though all the pain that I so desperately tried to block from my mind, began leaking through the dam. The facade that I had built, convincing my friends, family and co-workers that I was fine, came crumbling down like Jenga .

I choked out a sob as my eyes betrayed me. I let the tears fall, each one washing away a little bit of pain I had been holding onto for months. Drenching my cheeks and leaving me gasping for breath. Each stifled sob echoed the loud, resounding ache in my heart. I was finally allowing myself to grieve my broken heart, my relationship, my ex-fiance— since he's dead to me now .

Deep down I knew this emotional breakdown was bound to happen sooner or later. I just never thought it would be at work with a stranger comforting me.

“Hey, you're okay.” His voice was velvety, soothing my anxieties like a warm blanket. “You’re going to be okay.” His hands gripped my shoulders as they viciously shook.

Once the sobs finally subsided, I felt a lightness I hadn’t felt in a long time. “Well shit, that was embarrassing.” I tried to humour myself, wiping at my mascara stained cheeks slightly, turning away from him and facing the city, so he couldn't see what a mess I had become. “I’m sorry, I don't know where that came from.” I whispered, keeping my eyes glued to the skyline ahead, too ashamed to even look at him. Something about crying in front of people or in public, felt so deeply shameful to me, I felt so vulnerable. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

“Are you sure- because uh, I don't know- there seemed to be a little something more to it.” He questioned sceptically. “Look, I've been there before, bottling it all up. Faking a smile to the point where I almost actually fucking convinced myself- that maybe, just maybe, I actually am happy.” He smiled as he spoke, but there was a deep sadness behind his words. “I’ve been to rock bottom, countless times. So look- just- I’m saying, I don't know what’s going on with you, but, just trust me the more you try to push it away the more it consumes you.” His radiant voice was like a beacon of comfort, guiding me through to the light at the end of the tunnel. For the first time in months I felt like I could open up to someone, without any judgment.

“Okay you got me there, lock me up and throw away the key.” I admitted, earning a small laugh from him. “It’s just so embarrassing to even say out loud. Promise you won't laugh.” I glanced over at him. I already had trust issues from my childhood, so being betrayed by the one person that I thought I could blindly trust without a doubt, shattered me. Before the betrayal, I would put effort into being more social and open with people I called friends. But now I found comfort in the loneliness. I was on a 24 hour look out, working overtime to guard my heart, from ever feeling that type of pain ever again. I knew I wasn't strong enough to survive it again, so I never gave anyone a chance to even challenge it.

“What- of course not. I promise.” He responded in an instant, hand held over his heart.

“My fiance cheated on me, I'm sorry let me reiterate.” I corrected myself. “My fiance of 8 years cheated on me with my best friend.” I confessed. “And the worst part is that it happened right under my fucking nose. But I was too busy planning our dream wedding, setting up appointments with realtors; looking for a bigger place for when we decided to start a family.” I laughed at the last part, somehow saying it out loud sounded so ridiculous— how I was so oblivious to the truth. “I was so focused on the future, letting it blind me from what was actually happening right in front of me.”

“Shit- yeah no that’s uh- that's rough.” He nodded, taking in my words. “Fuck yeah, I get it now. Understood.” His voice was full of empathy. “I can't imagine- genuinely I’m fucking sorry.” Why was he apologising, when the person I longed to hear those words from, felt no remorse. Not a single ounce of guilt for hurting me in the worst possible way, leaving me broken.

“It’s fine. I’m in my acceptance phase now.” I reflected, feeling at ease sharing my raw thoughts with him, knowing that I’d never cross paths with him again. There was no harm in over-sharing with a stranger— what’s the worst that could happen?

“Yeah it sure seems like it.” He chuckled.

“No seriously- I am. Don't let my little breakdown earlier fool you.” I tried to defend myself. “That was partially work related too. The stress of this job has got me pulling out gray hairs. I’m too young to have gray hairs.” I sighed running a hand through my hair subconsciously.

“Okay now hear me out. Maybe- just maybe it’s just your bitchy attitude, that’s making you age?” He joked. Now that the haze of my inner turmoil finally simmered down, I saw his true colours shining through— god he was such an ass.

“Wow, creepy and a jokester. You really are a package deal.” I clasped my hand over my chest, feigning admiration. “I’m sure it’s not a big deal for someone of your prehistoric age to have gray hair, but for the younger generation, we take it very seriously. I don’t expect you to understand. You’re probably too busy dying your hair jet black every morning or getting fitted for your hearing aids.” My words left him stunned, as his mouth hung open in shock. It was clear that nobody had ever put him in his place before; humbled him; brought him back down to Earth. His entire persona radiated— finance bro— the worst of the worst kind of people.

“Okay- ouch. You fucking shoot to kill.” He finally recovered from my brutal attack. “And I’ll have you know my hair is naturally this colour.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “And also- I’m still fucking young. I know how to use twitter, I listen to Kendrick, I know how it’s hanging these days.” He said trying to sound confident but I didn’t miss the slight hesitation in his voice.

I burst out laughing, feeling my chest tighten as I gasped for air in between giggles. “Oh god- my stomach hurts- please you’re killing me here.” I took a moment trying to compose myself, as he watched his lips pressed into a straight line, not amused. “I’m sorry but using twitter, and listening to Kendrick doesn’t qualify you to be as young, and hip as you think it does.”

“Fuck you- I’m not even that old. I’m not even close to middle-aged.” He threw his hands up frustrated.

“You keep telling yourself that grandpa.” I smirked, loving how easy it was to get under his skin. Playing him at his own game, if he was going to dick then so was I. It was clear that I was winning the sword fight.

“Jesus- you’re fucking mean.” He smiled, shaking his head, taking my insults with a pinch of salt.

“Well, you know my villain origin story.” I tried to lighten the mood. “Your turn.”

“My turn? Uh- for what exactly?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know maybe your villain origin story, you know, how you became such an insufferable prick.” I replied grinning. “Harassing innocent women who are trying to enjoy a peaceful cigarette.”

“Oh wow- okay. So now I am what- some sort of creepy, stalker who uh- fucking comforts broken women?” He laughed, brushing off my harsh words. His laugh was like a breath of fresh air, so contagious, I joined in too. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed like this, let alone even smiled— It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Answer the question, creep.”

“I guess we're sticking with creep then.” He huffed. “No origin story here. Just a guy who came up here to avoid my family’s daily fucking drama. But then heroically saved a beautiful young lady’s life.” He smiled, eyes twinkling in the city lights. If my cheeks weren’t already pink and puffy from all the crying, they definitely were now.

“Wow, my hero!” I exclaimed sarcastically, rolling my eyes at the absurd lie.

A strong breeze picked up, I subconsciously wrapped my arms around my shoulders attempting to warm myself. I didn’t think to bring my jacket with me for a brief moment on the roof. Little did I know I would spend a half hour, pouring my heart out to a stranger.

“Are you cold here, take it.” He offered me his blazer, shrugging it off wordlessly, seeing my teeth chatter. I graciously accepted it, his scent still lingering on the expensive fabric. He lit another cigarette and offered me one too. I brought it to my lips, as he leaned in cupping his hands, to light it— if the brassy breeze would allow so. As he brought the flame closer, I finally got a good look at his face, the clearest I had been able to all night. I immediately recognised him. At that moment, I genuinely wanted to jump off the building, for real this time.

“Oh my— fucking— god.” I gaped at him, eyes wide as the blood drained from my face. I dropped the cigarette from my lips, stepping away from him. “Kendall fucking Roy. You have got to be kidding me.” I gasped. “Why didn't you say anything?” A million thoughts raced through my head, the most prominent one being— I was definitely going to lose my job. I had just told the COO of the very company I work at, the future heir to Waystar and Royco; to jump off the roof; allowed him to watch me have a spontaneous nervous breakdown; and if that wasn’t already humiliating enough I then proceeded to insult him to his face.

“Wait, are you serious?” He asked, lips parted in silent surprise.

“I’m not wearing my glasses.” I tried to reason, scrambling back, putting some much needed distance between us. “I have to go.” I quickly tried to escape, after digging my own grave.

“YO, wait- hold up.” He yelled, hot on my tail. I slammed the door shut behind me, trying to buy myself a couple of extra seconds as I scurried down the stairs, my heels about to give out under me. I made it back down to my office in record time and collapsed in my chair, heaving. Facepalming once I realised I still had his blazer on.

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jasperhaleobsessed · 4 months

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Mending What's been Broken

Summary: Edward and Bella have a different conversation after New Moon than in canon.

Notes: Thank You to everyone who favorite and followed this story it makes me so so happy! Hope you enjoy it! Feel free to leave any suggestions and constructive criticism. It's greatly appreciated! Also in this chapter it is Edward’s POV I don’t say what the characters are specifically saying but convey the jist of it more like.

Characters: Edward Cullen, Alice Cullen, Carlisle Cullen, Esme Cullen, Rosalie Hale, Jasper Hale, Emmett Cullen and Bella Swan (Mentioned)

Warnings: None does talk lightly about what happened at the Volturi.

…

Edward’s POV

I walked into the living room. She stood up abruptly, she pushed me back out of anger and frustration. I’m sure you can guess who. Alice. “You let her get away! What’s wrong with you?” She screeched. She was furious. I heard her raving thoughts the moment I stepped in the door. I’m surprised she didn’t call me and demand me to go back and talk to Bella. I desperately wanted to go back to her but I wouldn’t. I won’t break that promise to her. I want to regain her trust and to do that I need to give her time and prove that I am trustworthy. If she had a vision of us talking, why is she so angry? Wouldn’t she want us to work it out in the right way? Perhaps she only saw parts of our conversation? No, I don’t think that’s possible to see just one part or perhaps it is possible but I think it’s something else, I think she just misses her best friend.

“I didn’t let her do anything, it was her choice! You should know by now…” I roared back. But then I paused trying to take a deep breath. She just misses her best friend. She’s hurt like I am. I continue to say, “I should know by now that’s how I got into this mess in the first place.” By the time I was done speaking the whole family was listening and watching us intently. I could hear their thoughts swirling.

Emmett was thinking of ways of murdering me in my sleep. He was seething. Carlisle was choosing his thoughts carefully. He didn’t completely approve of us leaving but was trying to think of what was best for Bella and our family. But seemed pleased that I was changing my mind, that I was doing things differently than before, that I was being healthier. Esme was thinking apprehensive of the whole situation. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to me. I hope she forgives me for going to Volturi and leaving Bella. Jasper was uncertain of the whole situation. Still unsure what to think. But he did understand why I left but saw the affects of my departure and disagreed with my actions. Rosalie was furious as usual. She didn’t want her family to be torn apart. She hated that she and the rest of us had to leave. But she also regretted how she treated Bella. She understood now that we need her and vice versa. She, like the rest of the family, watched us attentively.

I take a step forward and I wrap my arms around her tiny frame. I whispered to her, “Alice I’m sorry I know I’ve caused you pain by taking away your best friend, telling you to leave her and for that I am truly, truly sorry.” She didn’t hug me back immediately but after a minute she did. If she could cry I’m sure she would be sobbing. Jasper wanted to run up to her and comfort her and tell her “Everything’s going to be okay.” But he stayed back, he knew we needed to talk. He watched carefully. I believe he was ready and prepared to step in at any moment. He proved it again and again that he cared deeply about her. He was her world and vice versa. Some say he’s cold but at heart he cares deeply for his family and for Alice. And he would never let anything bad happen to her or any of us.

Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. But she still managed to say, “I-i could’ve said no, I c-could’ve f-fought to stay but I didn’t none of did and n-now we have to m-make u-up for it. We have to h-help her. I-I c-can’t let her d-down again. I won’t.” She said, with determination in her trembling voice. “I know you won’t.” I tried to soothe.

“And you better not do something like that again mister! I was so scared you were dead!” She hugged me tighter, she hugged me like she’d never let go and perhaps she wouldn’t. Knowing her she wouldn’t. She's a good sister and I am lucky to have her in my life. I was lucky to have them all. I shouldn’t have taken that for granted. I’ll never take it for granted again. And that’s a promise. I just need to fulfill that promise, I need to keep to it. It wasn’t just Bella who I needed to prove that she can trust me again, it was also my family too. But they also needed to prove to her they could trust them as well. I guess we all needed to prove something to one another.

This is not going to be easy but I hope Bella’s right, I hope we can do this. I’m not as optimistic as her but I also trust her and I need her to trust me too. I never want her to be alone again. I can’t…I won’t do that to her. I want to fulfill that promise as well. No more heartbreak, just love and trust. We need to find Victoria and stop her. I hope Jacob won’t be a problem as well. But I am sure he will be another obstacle I’ll have to face. I’m not completely sure how Bella feels about him or what their whole story is but I do know he’s important to her and I need to be careful of him. Once again I can’t do anything rash or else I could lose her trust and break the treaty, causing my family trouble, and dying is not on my to-do list. But I do know none of this will be easy. It's going to take time and lots of it. As a vampire time goes by slowly but this is one of the slowest. This will be tedious but out of everything I’ve gone through in my existence and done this will be the most fulfilling.

“I promise I won’t.” I vowed. I was going to uphold this promise. I will not let her down not again. I can’t see my sister like this ever again. I can’t ever put myself or my family through anything like again either. I don’t think I could, I’m not strong enough for that.

“You better.” She whispered softly.

“Don’t worry Alice, I'll make sure he upholds that promise!” Emmett hollered and cackled like a maniac.

She laughed, “Good.”

“Don’t worry we’ll make sure of it.” Esme smiled warmly at Alice. Alice flashed a bright smile at her. I let go of her and she went to peck Esme’s cheek. Esme’s motherly and comforting thoughts filled the air. But I also heard Emmett’s and Jasper’s thoughts.

They were planning and strategizing what they’d do if I ever hurt Bella or took her away from them again. Emmett was like a big brother to her and if anything bad would happen to her it would break his heart. And he’d probably rip me from limb to limb. He certainly wasn’t going to ever leave her again and he, like the rest of my family, was determined to help Bella. To win back her trust. And to mend what has been broken. Jasper almost killed her on her birthday and he regrets it greatly. He wants to make it up to her in any way possible but she’s also a little sister to him. He felt all of our pain during the last few months and he knows she is part of this family, he doesn’t want to see any of his family in pain. And he certainly doesn’t want to be the cause of it. Not again.

Surprisingly it was Rosalie who spoke up first, “We need to talk to her, we need to get her trust back…I need to gain her trust in the first place.”

“That’s very wise of you but also kind.” I say. She gave me a small smile. I’d never gotten along with her but perhaps I could mend that relationship as well.

Carlisle was rubbing his chin, he was in deep thought. He kept trying to think of the best way to phrase his thoughts.“Rosalie is right, we need to talk to her and fix what we’ve done. We’ve caused her too much pain.”

“But how? I know we need to give her space and give her time. But how can we make her feel like she can trust us again?” Emmett questioned.

Carlisle was ready to answer but Esme answered instead her motherly instincts were kicking in. “We need to be dependable, show that we can be trustworthy, be honest, be consistent, admit we were wrong, and help her.” Carlisle smiled lovingly at Esme.

“When should we invite her over and talk to her?”

“Tomorrow after school.” Alice answered in a monotone voice, her eyes were cloudy like when she was having a vision. She did have a vision. I was preoccupied by the conversation, I didn't notice.

“We can all agree we’re never leaving her again right?”

“Yes.” We all agreed.

Emmett smiled, “Just making sure.” Always the jokester.

I knew what was coming. I dreaded it. “Know before we have a chat with Bella tomorrow we need to have a chat with you about going to the Volturi.” Oh I was in so much trouble. His voice sounded very father-like. He crossed his arms looking me closely in the eye. He had authority to it but almost a hint of menace to it as well. You never want to make him mad. But I knew he was just worried about losing me. They all were. His eyes were still golden; he always had the best self control and self restraint. But I knew he wasn’t outraged, just worried. All eyes turned to me and I knew that this would be a long discussion.

To Be Continued…

#twilight #twilight saga #the twilight saga #new moon #au #alternate universe #edward cullen #bella swan #alice cullen #jasper hale #esme cullen #carlisle cullen #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #twilight renascence #twilight renessaince #twilight renaissance #my fanfiction #my fanfic

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boobchuy · 2 years

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Did you like the finale? I personally liked it, except for maybe a few things, but I’ve seen a lot of ppl saying they don’t like it on twt. I really like your art so I’m just curious lol

anon I'm gonna use this chance to brainvomit my thoughts about it I hope u dont mind but u gave me the opening so I MUST BITE IT LIKE A RABID DOG

but, tl;dr is that I loved the finale as a whole, w a few gripes here and there bc nothing is perfect and that's okay

To be more specific, here is me crying and rambling <3

Things that I liked :))

* first and foremost, this is the story that matt has had in his vision for years. this is what he wanted to do, what amphibia stands for, just a big metaphor for change, and just for that alone I love this finale to bits, and will hold it dear in my heart for many years to come.

* I got what I wanted and MORE, that is; rule of three anne dying. this has been something I've been looking forward to since I joined the fandom and saw a post abt how Marcy and Sasha almost died in season finales, and wondering whos turn it was next. just. The whump of it all, y'know. AND THE OUTCOME AND CONSEQUENCE, IS SO MUCH BIGGER AND BETTER TO EXPLORE THAN I COULDVE INITIALLY THOUGHT

I don't know about you but knowing that Anne's tied to this powerful entity, to see that scene of her talking with god, essentially, it just manages to scritch a really good part of my brain. There's just, so much to explore from that scene, and it was such a pleasant surprise even if it feels quite a bit sudden LOL. for all intents and purposes, the little kid in me is screaming that it's very very cool, and I can't wait to attempt and make it cooler. (Plus, the AUs of just this one scene can inspire are ENDLESSSSS, so excited to dig into it more)

* calamity trio fight scene. Need I say more. TJ hill I need the soundtrack of that it was so uplifting and cool and ughuh legend. You can tell the absolute fun and love that was put into it, from the character gestures, the expressions I fucking adore it so much. Easily the happiest part of the finale, a glimmer of light for how much the episode broke me :)

* ANDRIAS. andrias. Andrias... (Weeping). the reunion parallel. it broke me. and even though he's done a lot of bad things, and that's putting it lightly, I'm glad that he lived. I just can't help but feel sad for the kind of past he has, and I'm happy that he's given a chance to heal. that, along with the fact that just killing him off is the easy way out- make him do the work of trying to heal what he has destroyed; him being shown planting seeds and making things grow, with parts of his old friends attached on his person, it's a quiet, peaceful moment for him, and a very satisfying one for me.

* this is moreso a confession than me listing a pro. right up to the last few weeks of amphibia's finale, I had this really really really quiet fear in the back of my head that the plantars might get shoved aside in favor of calamity trio ToT, that's just the brain making up dumb problems, of course, and though as heartbreaking as it could be, I enjoyed that the show proved that wrong for me.

I fell in love with their characters, and the farewell scene with the plantars, it's so so so dear to my heart. Anne calling Polly her little sister, every word that hop pop said to Anne, the cut to sprig as he gripped his hat tight, tearing up. The way Anne's face was so scrunched up as she tried to comfort him. That last spranne hug, how it was animated so well, how heartfelt it was. God. I've been crying since I mentioned Polly while I typed this. That goodbye scene is everything, and even if people didn't like it for the sadness it caused, they shot it out of the park. Most emotional I've been in the show, tops.

* I went on a whole tangent about it on twitter yesterday, but Anne's death scene is equally as heart wrenching. I won't go over it like I did, but the two key moments that really broke me was when sprig and frobo brought her down, sprig was SMILING. trying to reassure himself and Anne that everything's gonna be okay, and there's this moment where he looks to the others as if saying 'its gonna be okay, right?', and the cut to Sasha and Marcy's heartbroken and horrified expressions. ITS JUST SO (pls excuse my language) FUCKING. FUCK FHCK FJCK. the the other moment, was Anne still managing to crack a joke and making her fam (AND MYSELF MIGHT I FUCKING ADD, HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME CRY LAUGH AS YOU DIE) laugh one last time before she turns into leaves

* the future time skip designs. *eats them*

my other feelings 👍;

* THIS MIGHT SEEM LIKE A CONTROVERSIAL OPINION. BUT. it felt, really off-putting and sad for me that Anne chose to be a herpetologist. IT FELT LIKE SHE WAS BEING STUCK IN THE PASTTTT, holding onto those memories for as long as she could. the strongest of feelings I've had w that has long since worn down as the hours went by, though. I want to believe that she eventually either grows to love this job genuinely for the sake of how happy it makes her, or she branches out more onto other things that aren't just related to frogs.

* I feelll like they could have done a better job tweaking sasharcys dialogue in the time skip. I don't mind that it was 10 years later, and IVE BEEN A FIRM BELIEVER ON SASHANNARCY GETTING SEPARATED SINCE THE VERY START, but, the part about how it's implied that once Marcy moved, they haven't kept in touch 😭??? hence her asking then on how Sasha and Anne have been doing only 10 years later??? I know we grow apart but I don't think it'd be that quick ... I think, I'll just chalk it up to them having not that much leeway on how to stir the conversation in that direction. Otherwise, sasharcys job careers make my heart feel full, they've really grown into themselves, into people that we didn't expect, and I think that that's wonderful.

* I don't really feel all that negative about the fact that the portal between worlds doesn't work anymore, mostly bc, I refuse to believe that it isn't possible ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

canon didn't even really imply there being one, but that didn't stop them from encouraging it a little bit. the stone guardian giving anne those last crumbs of power to go home is an orchard ripe for picking that says just how much more could be explored. And I wasn't as devastated because genuinely, I do believe there's a day where they will see each other again, whether that gets confirmed or not, it's something I'll hold to dear to myself til I eventually, move on from amphibia too.

#man this was long sorry for the word dump anon i hope u dont mind HAHA #.txt #talking to frogs #i dont know how to sum up my feelings very well but i hope u get the Vibe #amphibia spoilers

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wellthebardsdead · 2 years

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Some more Angel76 au because I’m loving the drama and my back is also in severe pain like Jack ~Bambi

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First flight

———

Jack: *standing nervously in the empty training facility with several drs and scientists watching him* … *looks over at the window to see Vincent standing there looking just as nervous*

Vincent: *literally had to dress him and lead him from their room because he was so distraught and scared it’d only make the pain he was in from the initial growth worse, quietly waves at him trying to reassure him* …

Dr: alright mr morrison we want you to stretch out your right wing.

Jack: *sheepishly does as he’s told struggling to get control over it at first before spreading it out showing off his golden feathers*

Dr: okay now tuck it back and stretch out your left one.

Jack: *tucks it back and winces a little bumping one of the sensitive feathers, whole body still on fire trying to adapt and recover from his last round of chems*

Dr: now stretch out the other one.

Vincent: Give him a minute.

Dr: we’re on a time crunch h-

Vincent: Give. Him. A. Minute.

Dr: …When you’re ready mr morrison please stretch your left wing.

Jack: *stands upright after taking a few deep breaths before stretching out the other wing*

Dr: good, now tuck it back in and we’ll begin the first flight test.

Jack: th-the what?

Dr: we’re going to see if you’re capable of flying with them.

Vincent: have you lost your fucking minds?! His bones aren’t hollow and those things are causing him pain!!

Dr: we need to be sure they can’t be utilised before removal.

Vincent: *ready to just lose his shit* HES IN AGONY BECAUSE OF THEM! HE WANTS THEM GONE! HES NOT A FUCKING ANIMAL SO STOP TREATING HIM LIKE ONE!!!

Dr: I’m sorry but this is just protocol. If these new assets of his prove useful he’ll simply have to learn to live with them. *gestures to security to have Vincent removed*

Jack: *growing further distressed watching his partner be escorted out* I-I want to stop.

Dr: well test your flight path first then we’ll conclude your testing for today.

Jack: ..okay…

Dr: when you’re ready follow the illuminated lines and run the track flapping your wings until you can get lift.

Jack: *sighs and does as he’s told, starting with a light jog before breaking into a sprint spreading his wings out and flapping them faster and faster before suddenly lifting off the ground and immediately getting tunnel vision as the joints on his back and shoulders lock into place from the tension* AGH- *tries to scream in pain only to get cut off as he hits the ground*

Dr: Mr morrison? Well done now if you can get up we can try Aga- what are you doing?!

Jack: *now upright and viciously ripping out his flight feathers one after the other so he’ll never have to do that again* I WANT THEM GONE! I WANT THEM GONE!!! *screams in pain as blood stains his fingers and feathers*

Dr: NUMBER 76 STOP! STOP THIS NOW OR WELL SHOOT!

Jack: *so tired from almost weeks of sleep deprivation and continuous pain* DO IT THEN!! KILL ME!!

Vincent: *suddenly shoulder checks through the door after knocking out the security guard* DONT SHOOT! DONT SHOOT!!! *hurries over to Jack grabbing his hands in his* love- calm down, calm down now I’m here…

Jack: *covered in his own blood and feathers* pl-please make it stop Vincent- make it st- *pauses as a dart connects with the side of his neck* … *passes out into his arms*

Vincent: *looks over to see gerard standing there with his rifle* I said don’t shoot!

Gerard: that was for his safety… *gestures to the now bloodied stump left after jacks self destruction*

Vincent: … help me get him home… we’re done here.

Dr: but we-

Vincent: WERE DONE HERE!

#overwatch #overwatch shitposts #jack morrison #angel!soldier76 #angel 76 #Vincent Overwatch #Overwatch Vincent #Jack x Vincent

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calliopewayne · 1 year

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Too Many Tears

7:05. Smallville is five minutes late. No matter. If my instincts are right . . . and I’m usually never wrong . . . Clark Kent is probably saving a horde of orphans from a burning building. From day one a small part of me always suspected Clark Kent and Superman are one and the same. Though I never could prove it before. He comes on with that big, innocent farm boy routine, but I can see right through that faster than a speeding bullet. Clark Kent is the worst liar in the cosmos. How many times is he gonna use the excuse ‘I forgot to return a DVD to Blockbuster,’ when he flees to go save the day? Pathetic.

That kiss sealed his fate. No man can kiss like Clark Kent, and trust me I’ve kissed a fair amount of super frogs before I met him. It took one kiss from the Man of Steel and I knew in my bones, that my boyfriend was masquerading as a vigilante in his spare time. I think of Superman going missing after Nightfall nearly struck Earth, and my blood runs cold.

It’s okay. Nightfall is in the past. Clark is no longer the walking poster boy for amnesia; he is back to full strength, or at least I think he is. Flying headlong into an asteroid the size of a small planet, had to have done some long-lasting damage. But he’s Superman! The Nightfall incident happened weeks ago. If there was any damage to be worried about, surely we would have seen some signs by now? Then again, kryptonite is about as predictable as a hangover and twice as deadly. There is no telling what sort of effect a planet-size of kryptonite . . .

Cut it out, Lois. You’re supposed to be angry with him, not a worried mother hen. He lied to you. Plain and simple. A loud ding beeps in the apartment and for a heartbeat, I think Clark is here. But then I realize it’s the timer on the oven letting me know the chocolate chip cookies are ready. He better have a good excuse for keeping me on the sidelines. I do not bake for just anybody.

I take the cookies out of the oven and set them on the counter. I scan the clock by the microwave again. It reads 7:15. Maybe he ran into Intergang goons with Apocalypse tech. They did quite a number on Superman last year; he was missing from work for a week after they shot him with guns from Apokolips as hot as his heat vision. I won’t be surprised if they left permanent scars on the Man of Steel. Or worse, he completely forgot about our date and is spending the night with Wonder Woman. The idea is so preposterous I laugh. Clark is no cheater.

I busily start to rearrange the living room. I shove the mini sofa towards the spherical window that has a great view of the city below. You can see all the way to the Daily Planet from here. It is the perfect spot to cuddle up together and confess I know his secret.

Finally, there is a tentative knock at the door. I can’t get to the door fast enough. Before I open I do a quick survey of my outfit. Sparkly Superman dress. Check. Subtle makeup that would make Diana of Themyscira look like a middle schooler. Check. I rethink the Superman dress and dive into my closet to change into a sensible violet dress that Clark has liked on numerous occasions. In my haste to change, I knock over the lamp by my bed and it crashes to the floor.

“Lois?” Clark's voice echoes through the closed door. “Is everything alright?”

“One second Smallville!” I call into the next room loudly, but even if I whisper I am dead positive he can hear me. He could hear me call out for him even if I’m across the world in Timbuktu. He’s fifteen minutes late, he can stand to wait five more minutes. I can see him in my mind’s eye as clear as day leaning against the door, twiddling his thumbs impatiently, those azure eyes burning a hole into my door. He sure could burn a hole in my door if he felt like it.

Once I am certain I am presentable I open the door and immediately chastise myself for being overdressed. Clark Kent stands on my doorstep wearing a pair of loose torn jeans and a Daily Planet sweatshirt. His messy black hair a total rat’s nest. Horn-rimmed glasses sit askew on his face as if he just ran into a wall and forgot to fix them. Sunken eyes peek through the glasses and I stifle a gasp. Doubt creeps into my mind. His eyes are so swollen and red he looks like he fought a horde of bees and lost.

He gives me a once-over. “I thought we were staying in tonight?” His bushy eyebrows quirk together in confusion. “Not that I’m complaining Lo, you look good enough to eat,” His cheeks turn crimson, in that adorable way they do every time he is embarrassed. “Not that I would eat you,” he quickly adds turning as red as an apple. “I’m not a psycho carnivore.”

Great. My fancy dress has tipped him off this is no ordinary date night, and he’s freaking out now. “Tell that to the endless amount of cows you’ve devoured,” I joke, trying to diffuse the tension that has sprung up between us. An impenetrable steel wall as strong as Superman grows ever stronger between us.

My joke does the trick, and my Superman smiles cheekily. “What can I say?” he shrugs. “Hamburgers are food for the soul.” He remains standing awkwardly in the doorway, and I realize with a pang I’ve scared the poor man.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” my voice comes out sharper than I meant it to. “Fly right into my humble abode,” Superman hangs unspoken between us. His face twitches with unease but he doesn’t comment on my word choice and makes himself at home on the couch.

I wander back to the kitchenette and set the chocolate chip cookies - his favorite - on a silver platter. Sweat trickles down my neck. I can feel his gaze following my every move, trying to figure out what is different about tonight.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he compliments, ever the gentleman. “Much roomier.” I pour two glasses of wine, taking my good time, knowing what is coming next. He knows me way too well. Sometimes it's a curse to date your best friend. Double trouble when he’s a flying alien in red and blue that can see through your clothes.

Alien.

What does that mean for us? Would we even be compatible together? I am as human as they come. He’s a god from another planet. Scratch that. I’ve seen that god drool in his sleep and speak fluent elvish on Tolkien night. If Kal-El of Krypton were a god, he would be the god of dorks.

Would we even be able to start a family? Not that, having children is a deal-breaker for me, I would be a terrible mother. But I know Clark has his mind set on being a father someday. What if we are compatible after all and I’m left alone with super triplets? Super triplets that fly like Peter Pan.

“Lois, are you mad at me?” he asks after a long pause. I stroll back into the den, and blindly hand him a plate of cookies, not able to see anything in my head except mini Supermen flying around the house causing mayhem and utter havoc, while the man of the house is off saving the world, leaving little old me alone with the terrible terrors. Clark fingers one of the cookies eyeing it doubtfully, “These aren’t poisoned are they?”

“Have a little faith Clark,” I smack him in the midsection. He flinches like any normal person would when hit. But now I know he’s faking. “I am not Poison Ivy.”

“No, you’re a lot scarier than her,” he points out. His gaze drifts towards the window, and his expression grows distant and unfocused as if he’s looking all the way to Gotham. I half expect him to come up with another lame excuse and dash out on me. Yeah, sorry C.K., Batman is not gonna save you from me tonight. He takes a tentative bite of one of the cookies, and his face scrunches up with disgust.

“You hate them,” I say bluntly. To his credit, Clark swallows the whole cookie down without a fuss, but his face turns green, the color draining from his pale cheeks. Clark looks like he wants to throw up, but is too afraid of my reaction. “Just say it, Clark, I’m the worst cook in the galaxy!” How could anyone mess up chocolate chip cookies? I followed the ingredients to a T, or at least I thought I had.

He looks up at me and smiles. “I didn’t fall in love with you because of your cooking Lois,” he laughs. “But in the future maybe double-check your measuring spoons,” he licks bits of melted chocolate off his fingers, and my heart soars. “I think you put too much baking soda in the mix.”

I slip onto the couch next to him, and he wraps a reassuring arm around me. “Maybe I should just leave the cooking to you, Smallville.”

“It can’t hurt to learn a few dishes,” Clark grins at me. “I’m a swell teacher,” he accentuates each word with a trail of kisses down my neck. I tense up. I can’t unsee the super big S stuck between us. Every touch is a reminder of his betrayal. Every kiss, a reminder he never trusted me. We’re supposed to be partners. Partners have each other’s backs. But he doesn’t have the balls to open up his oh-so-kissable, big mouth and tell me the truth. I am not dumb. Give me a little credit Clark. I can’t believe Perry hasn’t caught on yet, or maybe he has and is turning a blind eye.

I jump off the couch. “I know you’re Superman!” I blurt out.

To his credit, he doesn’t so much as blink. I suppose working closely with Batman has taught him a thing or two about poker faces. And then suddenly he lets out maniacal laughter that makes me wonder if the Joker gassed him.

Clark finally stops laughing and leans over, resting both arms on his knees. “Lois, you’re hysterical when you’re drunk.”

Anger boils in my veins. He knows as well as I, that I don’t get drunk. Us Lane girls know how to hold down our liquor, unlike a certain playboy I am not gonna name. “The gig is up Smallville. You can’t lie to me any longer.”

“I never lied,” Clark’s face grows red. Funny. Rumor has it that it is virtually impossible for Superman to blush, but they don’t know him as I do. I glare at him. He rolls his eyes in response. “This is getting old,” he grunts, his face coloring with irritation. “Remember the time you jumped into Niagara Falls to prove I was Superman?”

“How can I forget?” I snap. He made me look like a deranged idiot. I don’t know how he managed it, but he saved me without so much as a blur. But, I’m never wrong.

“And who saved you?”

My mouth forms a thin line, the words dragged out of my throat. “You did.”

“Hmm,” Clark nods, smirking in amusement. “And was I wearing spandex or flaunting primary colors?”

My shoulders grow tense. Clark has never been shy about his hate for Superman’s corny, outlandish outfit. His exact words were, ‘what kind of grown-ass man flies around wearing red spandex over tights?’ It was all part of his charm. Part of this facade he insists on keeping up. The spandex is a bold and smart choice. No one would be looking too closely at his face in that getup, that’s for sure.

“Goddamnit Smallville!” I cry out. “How stupid do you think I am?” I roar. “You don’t need the suit to be super. You’re not Shazam!” His freaking mother already confirmed my suspicions. She has brains as well as balls, unlike a certain son of hers. The alien with a small brain has a death wish. If he doesn’t fess up soon he’s going to see exactly how vengeful Stiletto can be.

I take a deep breath to cool my nerves.

Clark’s face smolders with anger. “I am sick of you comparing him to me.”

“Who? Shazam?” I play dumb. “I hear he’s at least honest with his lady friends.”

“No. alien,” he says in a low whisper, rife with tension. “You will never be satisfied with an ordinary man.”

How dare he. “I am not some obsessed bimbo pulling at your cape,” I seethe. “I loved you before you decided to scar the world with your fashion massacre.” I watch his face carefully for any sign of resentment, a flush of embarrassment. Something. Anything! He remains stone-cold and distant. There’s a tautness to his shoulders that tells me he’s fighting an urge to dash and cover.

And then the corner of his mouth quirks up, tentative at first, and then brightens. I dare to hope he’s finally going to pull his grown-up pants on. “Lois do you not realize how ridiculous this is?” He raises his voice unnecessarily. “If I were Superman I won’t live in a dump in Suicide Slums,” he explains. “I won’t have to worry about human things like paying taxes or eating. Superman doesn’t eat.”

“We both know that’s a lie you tell the press to make you seem more exotic.” I press my lips together. “You’re the biggest foodie in the galaxy!”

Clark laughs. “Yeah I am,” he agrees. “But have you ever seen Superman eat?”

I want to scream ‘YES’ a million times over. Superman scarfs down entire pies and galleons of ice cream in one sitting. He always knows the best place to get Chinese food and its not anywhereon this continent. He gets moody if he doesn’t eat breakfast.

But no. I see the trap Clark has carefully laid out. I can’t answer that question without making up tall tales. I personally have never seen Superman eat so much as a cookie. He’s too busy flying around the world to stop for snacks.

“You’re impossible!” I growl.

“Look whose talking,” Clark matches my tone. “I’m not the one mixing up my boyfriend with an alien.”

There’s that word again. It keeps creeping up on me. Alien. Freak. Monster. Abomination. All words Clark has used to describe Superman in the past. I brushed his cynicism under the rug and chocked it up to classic, bruised male ego. But it’s more than that. Clark can’t admit he’s Superman because that would mean he’s admitting to being an immigrant from the stars. In his mind the ‘alien’ card is one way ticket to Lonesomeville. He wants nothing more than for things to stay normal between us.

Rao, help me. I wish I didn’t know him so well.

I roll my eyes and grit my teeth. I imagined this night playing out differently. Once the truth was out he was supposed to wrap me in his strong extraterrestrial arms and confess his undying love to me. We could have finally flown together with no secrets between us. He could have shown me his favorite restaurant in China that he always gets take out from. The night would have ended at his Fortress, the only thing keeping the cold away his steaming flesh against me.

But that won’t be my Clark. At least not in this universe. Clark was afraid of change and above all, rejection from those close to him. Rejection from strangers on the streets, that no doubt he knew by first name, even if they won’t bother to see the man beneath the caricature. But I’m not just anybody. How can he not see what a miracle he is? I don’t care about his alien visa. But something tells me, even if I spell it out for the idiot, he’d keep me at arm’s length.

“Can Superman do this?” He strolls into the kitchenette at an achingly normal pace and returns with a carving knife. I bite back a comment about Mr. X-Ray Vision knowing exactly where to find my collection of knives.

Clark raises the knife up. Too late I realize his intentions. “No!” I dash forward. With no hesitation he slashes the blade across his arm. Blood pulses through the wound, turning his sleeve crimson.

“Shit,” I gasp, dashing to the kitchenette and grabbing a towl. I silently start to recite the alphabet in my head. A stands for amnesia. D. Death. E. Extraterrestrial. M stands for Mook. K. Kryptonite. S. Smallville. My racing heart starts to subside around letter ‘W.’ Wreck. I suck in a ragged breath. Nightfall irrevocably wrecked Clark.

“You have a fucking death wish!” I swear, pressing the course fabric against the wound.

His hot blood soaks through the towl and drenches my fingers. Red and thick like a human’s. I swallow and blink a few times, the tears lodging in my throat. I refuse to let him see me cry. I should slap Clark or let him bleed to death. The fight is slapped out of me at the sight of his blood. It’s a reminder that Superman, despite appearances, isn’t truly invulnerable. But this is all my doing. I might as well have been the one holding the knife. I pushed him before he was ready. Martha warned me to be patient with him. He will tell me on his own terms when he was good and ready. But ‘patient’ and Lois Lane do not mix well together.

“Tod you ‘m not Zuper-mun,” he slurs his words, gaze growing unfocused and dejected. ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever be Superman again’ his gaze all but screams. A stranger stares back at me. The absence of hope is a foreign look on Clark. The Clark I knew would never harm himself. He valued all life. Except his own apparently.

To my utter horror, my eyes grow hot, tears welling in my eyes quicker than I can blink them away. “I’m sorry,” I choke out. “There was no need for such drastic measures.” I pry the words out of my scratchy throat, folding the crimson towel to a clean side. Clark grimaces as a press harder on the wound. The blood flow has trickled to a stop. I scrounge around the bottom drawer of the side table and pull out the first aid kit I keep there for emergencies.

“Superman is dead,” Clark says in a small, faint whisper, but I still hear him. My chest tightens at the hopelessness in his voice. I suppose from his perspective Superman is dead. He’s nobody without his powers.

Superman is sitting right next to me but he’s too far gone to fight his worst enemy: Himself. Silently I dress the wound, rubbing alcohol on the tender flesh and wrapping gauze around it. “Superman isn’t a hero because of his powers,” I point out. “Superman is an ideal to strive for,” I comb a loose curl out of his face. “He has the heart of a hero. Even without powers, he’s a beacon of hope,” I smile. He’s the friend that lifts you out of the darkness when you’re alone and scared.” With each word I utter Clark’s face grows greener. “He’s a voice for the oppressed and always does the right thing, even when it’s difficult.”

“I wish I could be that man for you,” Clark says dejectedly.

“You already are.” I cling onto Clark, relishing in the feeling of his sturdy, very real, beating heart against my chest. I wipe at my eyes, but new tears tumble down my cheeks before I can wipe the old ones away.

Clark cups my face and forces me to meet his eyes. Gently with the back of his thumb, he brushes a stray tear out of my face. “You’re my hero, Lois Lane.”

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cherienymphe · 3 years

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Twice Mine (Stucky x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON, mentions of NON-CON, vampire!Stucky, jealous!Stucky, violence, toxic relationships, murder, animal cruelty, bloodplay

➥ this is the much anticipated final part to Twice Bitten and Twice Burned

I had a lot of fun with this series, and I hope you guys enjoy!

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ Italics = things that have already happened

➥ Non italics = present day

summary: King Steve has the reputation of the kindest king in all the land. How sad it is that such a man always seems to be burying a wife, leaving him lonely and searching for another. Seeing how Queen Margaret’s death affected you, the king hopes to raise your spirits by marrying you off to the handsome Duke, James Barnes, unbeknownst to you, sealing your fate.

The large living room was alight with the glow of the fire, the flames the only source of light in the entire room. The mansion was quiet, as it tended to be, but for the past week or so, it was a different kind of quiet. A heavy silence that was almost suffocating had descended over the place. You barely turned your head to the side, swallowing down a sigh.

You felt him before you heard him, a strong concern that didn’t belong to you taking up residence in your heart beside your own. You pressed your hand to your chest, the weight within it increasing as the sound of his footsteps reached your ears. His large hands soon found a place on your shoulders, fingers kneading into your bare flesh in what was meant to be a calming gesture. You hadn’t been calm in days.

“Come to bed,” he murmured, voice gravelly, still riddled with sleep.

You shook your head, eyes focused on the flames.

“I can’t sleep.”

He sighed, an exasperated sound as his fingers danced along your throat.

“You can’t sleep...you can’t eat…”

You swallowed, heart sinking at the knowledge that you’d been found out.

“...I’m fine,” you told him.

“Remember what happened the last time you went so long without feeding…”

His words made your eyes cloud over, the memory so fresh in your mind you would’ve thought it happened yesterday instead of centuries ago.

“...it nearly broke you,” he whispered. “I don’t want to see you like that again.”

You didn’t respond, eyes instead falling to the floor as his grip tightened.

“Y/N.”

You shook your head.

“He was supposed to be back days ago,” you murmured, throat tight. “We haven’t heard from him in days.”

He exhaled, leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head, breathing you in.

“Can you still feel him? Focus...just like I taught you...”

You could. It was faint, and you had to search deep within yourself, but you could still feel him there within your chest. A light warmth that had been there since you’d first woken up into this new life.

“I can.”

“Then he’s alright…”

“Then why hasn’t he called? Or let us know that he’s okay?” you wondered, standing now as frustration colored your tone.

“It’s not the first time, doll. He will be fine, he always is, but you won’t be if you don’t drink something…”

The dull burn in your throat became all the more prominent as he reminded you of your thirst. A thirst that you hadn’t satiated in days. You turned, reluctantly lifting your eyes to meet the blue of his.

“I don’t think I can...not without…”

You trailed off, recalling the last and only time you had practically starved yourself. The lack of control you’d had… A small sigh reached your ears, and you watched as he nodded, stepping closer until his chest grazed yours.

“Drink from me for now...and then we’ll go hunting tomorrow.”

His hand was on your wrist, pulling you with him as he stepped back. He sank into the armchair, and you straddled him, fingers pressing into his shoulders as you made yourself comfortable. He gazed up at you like you had his heart in your hands, and the corner of your mouth lifted ever so slightly.

“Anywhere you want,” he breathed.

Brushing your tongue over your bottom lip, you leaned in and sank your teeth into his throat. His hips lifted up into yours, hands curled around your waist as a low groan escaped you. Your eyes rolled as your body welcomed his blood into your system, coursing through your veins to give you much needed strength.

A hungry moan bubbled in your throat, and Steve sighed.

Someone was yelling. Even through the jumbled haze that was your mind, you could recognize that much. It was also hard to breathe. Did you even need to breathe now? Probably not, but surely you did if the way you were clutching your chest and gasping for breath was anything to go by. Could vampires have panic attacks? Could vampires go into shock?

“You killed her!”

You had heard someone scream that only moments ago, and yet here they were again. There was so much yelling, so much chaos, and through it all, the voice became clear. Both voices became clear. It was James...and Steve…

The thought of the blond made your lips curl, and you shakily pulled yourself to your feet. You glanced down at your dress, taking note of the faded blood. Your blood. You had tried to kill yourself, you remembered that now...and James had found you… Both James and Steve had found you. Then Steve had killed you.

The memories were coming back so fast. You could hardly make sense of it all, and it took some time before you remembered your awakening...James...Steve… Mary Jane. Your lips parted as you eyed the fresh blood on your dress...your hands… It did not take long for your eyes to find Mary Jane’s still body just at the foot of the bed.

“No...no, no,” you mumbled, falling to your knees once again at her side.

Had you done this? You could not recall. There were blanks in your mind, but if you thought hard enough, you could conjure the uncontrollable thirst that had taken over you. You could remember the way James had attempted to stop you, the way Steve had laughed as you brutally drank from your maid. You could hear yourself scream, grief and rage hitting you all at once just before laying waste to the room.

You glanced up, eyes widening at the torn bedding and broken furniture. There were feathers everywhere. A soft sob left you as you cradled the lifeless girl in your arms. James and Steve were still arguing, fighting even, and you squeezed your eyes shut. This all felt like a bad dream. A nightmare...fueled by the vampire in the next room.

Had you been filled with less rage, you would have marveled at how quickly you moved. You found yourself in the receiving chamber, pinning Steve to the wall before you even realized what had happened. He merely chuckled, sharp teeth winking at you, blue eyes filled with mirth at your crisis.

“You did this to me,” you screamed, hitting at him. “You did this-!”

You cut yourself off with a sob just as James wrapped his arms around you, pulling you away from the other man. He shushed you, trying so hard to calm you, but you were inconsolable. The reality of the situation, your new reality, was finally starting to sink in, and you thought that the weight in your chest would crush you.

If it was not for James’ hold, you would have fallen to the floor. You had the hardest time breathing, setting your vision straight, and you shook so violently in his arms. You could feel him pressing kisses into your hair, still damp from what had transpired only hours ago.

“Go.”

That single word broke through, and it took you a moment to realize that he was not speaking to you. He was speaking to Steve. It seemed that both you and Steve came to the realization at the same time.

“Surely you are joking…”

“I mean it, Steve. You should not be here...not right now…”

“James-.”

Steve swallowed his words as you escaped and dug your nails into his throat, and while your attack did not last long, Steve easily fending you off, you were satisfied with the blood you had drawn. You fell to the floor but made no move to stand, hands pressed into the rug as you keeled over with another sob.

“You killed her, Steve.”

“Really? Because she seems to be alive and well from where I am standing,” the king sneered. “I have the marks to prove it.”

“You threw her off of the balcony!”

There was so much venom in James’ voice, and the silence that followed was thick.

“She would have left us. Both you and I know that she would have tried again, and she would have succeeded! Is that what you would have wanted?”

You heard the wall shake.

“She did not deserve that,” James spat. “She deserved better. She deserved a painless death and a peaceful transition.”

Your nails scraped along the fabric of the rug as you recalled the pain of your body slamming into the stones below. The fear that had been enough to paralyze you once you realized what Steve had done.

“Now I must undo what you have done. I have to make this right for her...and I cannot do that with you around. You need to stay away from her for a while.”

You slowly lifted your head at James’ words, eyes taking in the scene before you. James had his hand at Steve’s throat, and you were surprised to find Steve’s cold gaze on you instead of James. He stared at you with such hatred, such contempt, and to your shock, you evenly stared back at him with the same look.

“You’re in trouble, you know that right?”

Steve’s quiet words reached where you stood all the way at the top of the stairs. You heard James sigh, and your relief at his safe return was unfortunately overshadowed by the fact that he’d gone an entire week with no call, no text, no nothing to let you know that he was okay.

He finally stepped out of the foyer and into the living room, Steve just behind him, and he at least had the gall to look sheepish. You wrapped your arms around yourself, far from cold, but just a force of habit whenever you felt particularly pouty. James threw you a small smile to which you did not return.

“I’m home, my love.”

You didn’t respond, and his smile faltered.

“You look radiant…”

Again, you ignored his words as you finally made your way down the stairs, the bottom of your dress kissing your feet. His face fell when you brushed past him and instead made your way to Steve.

“Steve, I’m thirsty,” you said with a frown, and the blond bit back a smirk.

“You just ate yesterday,” he reminded you.

“Well, I want to go again,” you argued.

You huffed when he gripped your shoulders, forcing you to face James. The dark-haired man resembled a kicked puppy, and you looked away. Steve leaned down to brush his lips against your ear.

“Cut him some slack, doll. You know how demanding business can be,” he told you.

He briefly squeezed your shoulders before leaving you altogether, and you reluctantly met James’ eye. His shoulders fell, and he took a step towards you.

“The deal didn’t go as smoothly as we thought it would. Would you believe me if I told you that doing business with humans is easier than with our own kind?”

Again, you didn’t respond. At least, not right away, and you simply raised an eyebrow at him.

“Do phones not work in Romania?”

He closed his eyes, releasing a sigh.

“I was worried-.”

“I was fine.”

“...and how was I to know that?”

He tilted his head at you, pressing the palm of his hand to your chest where your heart would beat if it could. That warmth was more prominent now that he was near, and you could feel his remorse for his lack of communication with you while he was away. His blue eyes were soft as he gazed at you.

“This is how you know,” he said.

“That’s...not the point, James,” you sighed, turning away. “I get anxious. You know that…”

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you into his chest.

“I know.”

“I don’t like it when we’re not all together. I hate when you go on these business trips by yourself,” you told him, turning in his hold. “Poor Steve has to put in twice the work just so I won’t miss you.”

James smirked, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Somehow, he manages to power through it, I’m sure,” he sarcastically replied.

You leaned in, brushing your lips along his chin, satisfied when James released a shaky breath.

“Are you coming hunting with us? I feel like it’s been so long with the three of us…”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, pink lips curving even more as he drank you in.

“Didn’t Steve say you just went hunting…?”

“...so?” you wondered, raising an eyebrow.

James chuckled, lips brushing yours as he spoke.

“You can’t get everything you want, my love.”

“You say that...and yet I always do,” you wondered, spinning away.

“We’ve talked about this, Y/N. We have to be careful,” he argued, halting your movements with a hand on your wrist. “This is a rather small town, and we stand out enough as it is.”

You didn’t respond, and he continued.

“Remember the last small town and your appetite?” he probed.

“It’s not my fault their community was filled with abusive and rapist scum. Besides, wasn’t that when I was snapping Steve’s neck every other week or so? I had to fully take out my frustrations on someone.”

He pulled you closer.

“You like it here, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“...and you want to stay for a long time, right?”

“...yes,” you reluctantly replied. “...but I’m thirsty, so…”

You ran your eyes along his frame.

“Somehow, some way, I’m drinking someone’s blood tonight.”

The scream that you let out was gut-wrenching, and you were thankful that you were deep in the woods. Far away from the village and the kingdom. The only light came from that of the moon as it hung in the sky, and for once, you wished that you were bathed in darkness instead. You did not want to see the consequences of your actions, see what you had done.

You were reminded of that first night in your new life. You could hardly breathe and hardly make sense of what was happening. Like before, the memories came to you quickly, filling in the holes that had been missing from the last day or so.

The thought of drinking blood, harming another, even if it did not cost them their life, was enough to disgust you. You had had enough, and had refused to drink for days. James had warned you. Oh God, he had warned you. You thought yourself above this life. You thought that your heart was too good for this life and that your will would overpower your nature. You were wrong, and the lifeless body in your arms was proof of that.

The boy was young, so young. He had long passed the precipice of childhood, but had yet to reach that of a man, and now he never would. You did not even remember smelling him, nor snatching him away, but when you closed your eyes, you could see it. You could see how unaware he had been as he poked through bushes to find some berries to pick. You could see the way you zeroed in on him. You could see the monster that you had become.

Another loud sob escaped your trembling lips as you rocked him in your arms, wishing and hoping that he would wake up. That it would all be a nightmare, he would wake up, and prove that you were not the monster you now thought yourself to be.

You felt him before you saw him, and when you reluctantly lifted your head, you were surprised to come face to face with Steve...not James.

“I killed him,” you sobbed.

Steve sighed, frowning at you as he approached. You had not seen him in months, only in passing really, and you had forgotten just how much you hated him. However, in this moment, you did not wish to be alone. You wished for someone to reassure you that you were not some crazed beast. Anything to stop the pain.

“Yes, well… James told me of the grand conclusion you came to, thinking yourself above your nature,” he scoffed, and you frowned.

He shook his head at you.

“Honestly, Y/N. What did you think would transpire?”

There it was again, that rage, and your lip curled.

“This is your fault. All of this is your fault!”

You were standing now, and Steve tilted his head at you.

“You did this to me. I am like this because of you...because of what you forced onto me.”

Steve took a step towards you, something in his eyes that you could not place.

“What is done, is done. This,” he pointed to the lifeless body at your feet. “...happened because of you, because you refused to accept your new reality. This happened because you tried to go against nature, your nature.”

His words filled you with an anger that you could hardly fathom, and before you knew it, your hands were on his head and then he was at your feet, neck twisted at an odd angle. You blinked, eyes widening as you realized what you had done, and you stumbled back. You hated Steve, God knows you did, but James would be far from happy about this.

As if you summoned him up, he was suddenly there, and you jumped at the sight. Your wide eyes met his just before he took in the mess you left behind, and he sighed when his eyes landed onto the boy.

“Oh, Y/N,” he breathed, sounding sad.

“I…”

You glanced at Steve’s still form.

“Steve...he...I…”

You did not know how to tell him that you had killed his best friend, but James merely glanced at Steve before chuckling.

“I assure you, Steve is fine.”

You frowned, and he elaborated.

“You did not kill him...not permanently, at least,” he explained. “You just snapped his neck. It is something like a temporary death for us. He will be alright. It is rather painful though, but...even I must admit that he had it coming.”

“He will be angry with me,” you murmured. “...but he always seems to be angry with me. He blames me for your...separation.”

“Steve has no one to blame but himself, my love” he said, kneeling beside the nameless boy.

“You...were right, James,” you whispered, choked up.

He looked to you, eyes heavy with a myriad of emotions you could not even begin to name. Regret being the most evident one.

“I thought that I could fight it. I thought that I could make myself be something that I am not. Steve was right when he said that I did not want to accept my new reality, and I hate admitting that.”

“I will help you through this-.”

“No.”

He blinked at you, standing now as he worriedly eyed you.

“I cannot do this,” you confessed.

“Y/N-.”

“I am sorry. I am...so sorry,” you whispered, leaving him there in the blink of an eye.

Your fingers tangled in Steve’s hair as he swirled his tongue in and out of you. His lips couldn’t get enough, and he pressed his fingers into your thighs, holding you down. James was far on the other side of the room, face torn between hunger and disappointment. Despite the fact that he was safe and sound, you were still miffed about his lack of communication.

“You can look...but you can’t touch.”

That was what you’d told him, and even though it was obvious how much he wanted to protest, he obeyed. Now he stood as still as a statue, hands balled into fists, face taut as he fought to prevent himself from tasting you as Steve was currently doing.

Your chest was pointed towards the ceiling, mouth parted as moans climbed out of your throat. Steve was ravenous between your legs, groans escaping here and there to send vibrations through you, making you clench around his tongue.

“Steve,” you moaned, eyes rolling.

That was what you both loved and hated about Steve. He could remain between your thighs for days on end if you allowed him to. Your voice caught when he pushed you over the edge, chest heaving and stomach tightening while the blond greedily lapped at you, refusing to waste a single drop. You could hear James swallow as Steve crawled up your spent frame, blue eyes narrowing like that of a feline.

He pulled you into his lap, bare chest pressed to yours, arms wrapped around your waist. You threw your own around his neck, nose brushing his as you let out a happy sigh.

“I think I’ve tortured James enough, don’t you?”

You grinned at him, and Steve returned it, leaning up. You pulled back, smile widening as you evaded his kiss.

“I don’t know, doll. I think he could stand some more,” he purred.

The mischief in his eyes matched your own, and you both turned to leer at James, your cheek pressed against Steve’s. You offered your hand to James, and it was impressive how fast he moved, taking your hand and pressing his lips to yours. You moaned into the kiss while Steve trailed his own lips to your neck.

Your teeth scraped along James’ mouth, drawing blood, and your body buzzed at the taste. A low moan crawled from James’ lips as you leaned down to sink your teeth into his throat, his hand coming up to twist into your hair. You pulled away with a sigh, Steve’s mouth seeking out your own, eager to taste James on your tongue. You could hear the dark-haired man swiftly undressing, pressing his chest to your back in no time, eager to make his absence up to you.

“You need to come back.”

You froze, eyes focused on Steve as he stood in the tiny cottage you had taken up residence in, making the space look that much smaller. You swallowed as you eyed him, recalling the last time you saw him in which you had snapped his neck. That was the last time you saw James too. That was months ago. Your emotions must have been all over your face because Steve simply smirked.

“Relax. I am not here to snap your neck as you did mine,” he assured you, stepping further into the place.

He looked as regal as he always did, blond hair neatly pushed out of his face.

“Nor would you be in the right to. If anything, you had it coming from the moment you killed me,” you hissed.

He narrowed his eyes at you, and you continued before he could speak.

“Why are you here? How did you find me?” you demanded, genuine confusion coloring your tone.

“Do not be daft, sweet Y/N. We have known of your whereabouts this entire time. If it were not for James, I would have dragged you back to the castle long ago, but he insisted that you needed time,” he explained.

“...and yet here you are.”

Steve’s jaw ticked, and he neared you.

“Yes. Here I am, because you need to come back,” he repeated.

“Why?” you scoffed. “...so you can torture me some more? Make my life as miserable as your heart?”

“He is not the same,” Steve suddenly said, making you swallow your words. “He needs you.”

The thought of James sullen and wasting himself away was enough to make your heart clench, but you simply folded your arms over your chest, glancing away.

“I am happy here,” you told him.

“Really? Happy here to feed on the squirrels and the deer like some beast of the wild?” he sneered.

“What is it to you?”

He was on you in a flash, fingers pressing into your jaw so harshly you could have sworn you heard it crack. His nose brushed against yours as he glared into your eyes, an untamable fire behind his own.

“It means something to me because I wish to see him happy. As much as I despise your very presence...he is not himself whilst you are gone,” Steve told you.

You scoffed.

“Are you no longer enough for him? Funny, because whenever I was around, all he seemed to do was put you first-.”

You cut yourself off with a gasp as he slammed you into the wall, the small house shaking from the force. Your eyes watered and your lips trembled as you glared at the man before you, the man who had killed you.

“I am giving you one week. One week to do what you must. Drink from all the animals you like, tear through every tree while imagining my face on them, get whatever you must out of your system,” he began.

You looked away, and he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“If you have not returned in a week, if you run, I will find you...and I will drag you back...but not before reminding you of just how cruel I can be,” he purred.

You pushed against him, and he merely moved to catch your wrists, slamming them into the wall. Steve's forehead was pressed to yours, and you could not meet his eye.

“You may not be as weak as you once were,” he started, forcing his knee between your legs. “...but you will never be strong enough to fend me off. I have no problem reminding you of that.”

He brushed his lips over your trembling ones, and then he was gone, ruining your peace once again. You cried for the first time in weeks that night. You had no doubt that if you ran, Steve would find you. You did not know how they even found you to begin with, but it was scary to think that they knew where you were this entire time without your knowledge. What else were they capable of?

As much as you did not want to, it was exactly one week later that you found yourself returning to the castle. It was late in the night, all of the servants and any other guests fast asleep, when you walked through the doors. James was there before you hardly got a foot inside, and you were in his arms before you knew it.

“I have missed you,” he sighed, squeezing you to him.

He breathed you in, and you found yourself doing the same, reluctant to admit that you missed him too. For a moment, you were reminded of a time where you felt safe in his arms, and you wondered if you would ever feel that again. When soft footsteps reached your ears, you looked up, Steve’s eyes meeting yours as he stood behind James, practically bathed in darkness. It was then that you realized the answer was no. You would probably never feel that again. Not while Steve was around.

Contrary to what you had thought, the time that followed was far from miserable. Steve still kept a safe distance, and James did his best to teach you about your new life. Whenever you did see Steve though, it was cordial...polite...but tense. There was something unspoken in the air that you were reluctant to give attention to. It stewed for the longest time until James was the one to finally bring attention to it.

“We need to talk, my love,” he said to you one evening.

You had frowned a bit, but eventually closed your book, giving him your full attention. You could not read his face, and that worried you.

“It is about Steve,” he began.

You swallowed, straightening.

“What about Steve…?”

At this point, it had been two years since your death that was somehow both literal and metaphorical, and you had not come any closer to softening your heart towards the king. You hardly saw him, hardly spoke to him as he continued to do as James asked and gave you the space to make your transition into this life much smoother.

James sighed, reaching up to brush his thumb along your cheek.

“It is meant to be the three of us…”

You looked away, heart sinking as you realized what this was about.

“That is how I envisioned our future, and I hope that we can get back to that some day.”

“James…”

“I am not rushing you. Believe me, there is still much anger in my heart towards him for what he did, and I know that my anger cannot ever compare to yours. I only wish to remind you that this is what I hope for us some day.”

You did not respond, and he continued.

“I am bringing this up because I have spoken with Steve...and he will be doing his best to make amends. I want you to expect that…”

Yours eyes met his, and he left you with a small smile. You soon found out that Steve’s version of making amends was to buy you things you had never asked for.

“It is all the rage in France,” Steve huffed as you turned your nose up at the gaudy necklace.

“Well, I am sure they will appreciate having it returned to them,” you snidely commented

Fed up, he threw the necklace to the ground, pointing a finger at you.

“You are being unnecessarily difficult,” he hissed.

Your eyes widened and your lips parted as you stared at him as if he had grown a second head before your very eyes.

“This...,” you picked up the other jewels he had brought. “...means nothing. All of this means nothing!”

You threw them at him, taking great satisfaction in the offended look he wore.

“You killed me!”

Two years worth of anger and hurt had been stewing. Your fingers trembled and your body vibrated and your eyes burned as you stared at the blond man before you. Your murderer.

“You taunted me and made my life hell for years! And then...and then you tossed me...off of a balcony,” you shakily gasped. “...and you think that your money will atone for that?”

Steve said nothing, face taut as your words hit him square on.

“You think these meaningless things will undo what you have done? How on earth did you manage to keep the throne all these years with nothing between those ears of yours?”

He was quick in invading your space, and his chest heaved with barely contained anger as you glared at him.

“You will watch how you speak to me.”

“Or what? You shall kill me? Again?”

He said nothing, and his nostrils flared.

“James will end your pitiful existence the minute that you do,” you spat.

The words had just barely left your mouth when his hand found your throat. Having anticipated this because Steve was nothing if not predictable, you grabbed the bejeweled dagger he had tried to gift you, plunging it straight into his chest. You felt no disgust when he coughed, blood flying past his lips and onto your face. You could only feel satisfaction as you watched the pain register on his features.

Your gratification did not last long as you watched him swallow down the ache, a troubling laugh escaping his bloody lips. His wide eyes took you in with something you could not name, but if you did not know any better, you would think it was pride. He chuckled again, his hand coming up to cover your own that still held the knife in his chest. He leaned in, with difficulty, and brushed his blood-stained lips over your own.

“Word of advice...a piece of wood is what you desire.”

He tightened his grip on your hand, and you winced, gaze never parting from his.

“Also...you might want to aim a bit higher next time,” he said through clenched teeth just before ripping it out.

You gasped as he snatched it from your fingers, quickly fisting his other hand into your hair, pressing the blade to your throat. You just felt a trickle of blood when James came bursting into the room. He was quick to pull Steve away, pinning the king to the wall.

“Have you lost your mind?”

Steve merely chuckled, a smirk on his pink lips.

“We were just having some fun. Right, Y/N?”

He looked to you, and you merely huffed, brushing past them both, ignoring James as he called for you. You did not see a future in which you would ever forgive Steve for what he did, what he put you through, but you could not accept one in which the two of you were constantly at each other’s throats. Something had to give.

Is this what you had come to? Is this who you were now? The thought was enough to make you sick, but surely it was the only way? Right…? Steve did not stir, and his body was warm beneath yours as you tightened your hands around the stake. The entire time that you whittled it, you kept wondering to yourself if this was what you really wanted to do? Could you even do this?

You pressed the end of it to his chest and swallowed. Would James hate you? He would be mad, that was for sure. That was to be expected even, but surely he could grow past this right? If your heart was able to beat, you were positive that it would be threatening to leap from your chest this very moment. Why were you scared? Why were you nervous? Steve deserved this...a thousand times over.

You were having doubts, and you did not want to admit that. You had stewed over this for months. Months of arguing and fighting. How many times had you drawn blood from him and vice versa? How many more? You jumped, startled when a hand closed around both of yours, and you lifted your gaze to meet the unflinching one of Steve. It suddenly occurred to you that he may have been awake this entire time.

You sharply inhaled, but he simply smiled, pink lips curving upwards ever so slightly.

“Do it,” he urged.

Your eyes widened, and you almost listened to him, but you faltered.

“Go on...do it…”

His blue eyes glinted with something unknown, and his teeth winked at you as he grinned.

“...why?” you suddenly wondered. “Why do you want me to?”

He tilted his head at you.

“You must learn to survive this life one way or another…”

You frowned, heart sinking at that.

“I… James…”

Steve hummed, nodding.

“Yes. He will be quite angry. I daresay he might even kill you,” he told you.

Your eyes widened at that, chest clenching.

“...the same he would do to me should I ever take you away from him.”

Your shoulders dropped at that, and you blinked.

“He loves us both...and he does not intend to live the rest of his days without either one of us by his side. I may not like this, but I have come to accept it.”

You glanced away, his words taking up residence within you.

“...but if you cannot accept this, then by all means...drive that stake through my heart. Truly become what you are and take what you must. That is how you survive this life…”

There was that phrase again. You did not like it, did not like the way it made you feel, and with a disgusted gasp, you dropped the stake. You held your hands up and away from Steve, chest heaving as you shook your head.

“No...no. That is...not how I wish to survive this life,” you told him.

You chanced a glance at him, finding that his eyes had darkened considerably. With a growl, the stake was in his hand, and he had flipped you, hovering over you as you trembled beneath him.

“Then you are weak!”

“Fine!”

He had not expected that response, and he looked taken aback. His fair hair brushed his forehead, thin shirt hanging off of his shoulder as he frowned at you.

“Fine...then I am weak. Call me whatever you like, Steve, but that is not me...and it shall never be me.”

You could feel the tip of the stake pressing into you through the fabric of your gown, and you swallowed, eyes boring into his.

“If you wish to drive that stake through my heart, to take what you want, then you may do so, but that is not who I am,” you quietly said. “I am not you.”

As much as you wished you could be, you were not like Steve. God knows that you hated him, and a part of you even hated James too, but killing Steve would hurt James, and you could not do that. You would not be able to live with yourself. Steve stared at you for a long time, and for a moment you thought that he would, but all too soon, you heard the piece of wood clatter to the floor. He remained hovering over you, hand on your neck now, and you swallowed as a shudder passed through you. His chambers were quiet as you simply stared at one another, and you thought to yourself how horrible it was that someone so demented could be so beautiful. Life was most cruel.

“I hate you,” you suddenly whispered.

Your words did not affect him, but you repeated them anyway.

“I hate you so much. I do not think you can ever imagine just how much I truly hate you, Steve,” you mumbled, tears kissing your eyes.

The king leaned down, nose brushing along yours as he hummed. Your lashes fluttered, hating the way heat swirled in your gut with his movements.

“I shall never forgive you.”

“It is not your forgiveness I seek,” he said.

He settled in between your legs, forcing them around his waist as his lips pressed against your neck.

“Then what do you seek from me…?”

His sharp teeth grazed your throat, and you curled your hands into fists, nails pressing into your palms. Your world was suddenly spinning, and you found yourself on top of Steve yet again. One of his hands pressed into your waist, holding you to him while you laid your palms on his chest. Even in the dark, the blue of his eyes appeared darker. Just as you were about to move to get off of him, he sat up, pressing his chest to yours.

“I-.”

Your words died on your tongue when he pressed his thumb to your mouth, scraping it over your teeth, and your eyes rolled when his blood fell onto your tongue.

“Show me how much you hate me,” he purred, leaning in to sink his own teeth into the skin just above your breast, piercing it through the fabric of your gown.

You had your way with Steve that night, hips moving over his as you sought out your climax again and again. You bit him, scratched him, left marks on every piece of flesh you could get your hands on, and he welcomed it all. Steve enjoyed a bit of pain, you realized, and you were shocked to find out just how much you enjoyed giving it to him.

By the time you were done, the sun peaking through the window, the sheets were stained with blood. Steve was fast asleep, breathing faint, and you were leaving his chambers, feeling a bit shameful in your bloody gown from the night before. You were surprised to find James awaiting you when you entered the corridor, and you jumped a bit, pressing a hand to your chest.

You were unsure of what to say. For some reason, you thought James would be mad, but then you remembered that this is what he wanted. You frowned as he approached you, leaning in to press his lips to yours, tasting Steve’s blood on them. He did not completely pull away, and you felt the corner of his mouth lift.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

You reared back, eyeing him and the small smirk on his lips, and you suddenly wondered just how coincidental your night with Steve was...or if outside forces had come into play.

You glided through the sea of bodies, the flashing lights doing little to obstruct your vision. The club was otherwise dark, everyone around you too preoccupied with drugs or alcohol or the person next to them. Steve and James were currently knocked out at home, and while vampire blood quelled the thirst, it wasn’t what your body lived on. Venturing out for a few hours wouldn’t hurt anyone...or so you intended.

Unimpressed with the slim pickings before you, you exited the club. It was a nice summer night, but it would be much nicer if you could find something quick to eat. You heard the footsteps behind you as you made your way to your car parked on the side of the street, but you didn’t think much of it. At least, not until a warm hand wrapped around your wrist. You spun, eyes wide and confused.

The man before you had a fair complexion, hair dark and eyes darker. His facial hair was tasteful, jawline sharp, and under different circumstances, you might have found him attractive, but he wreaked of malicious intentions. You only discovered what those intentions were when he pushed against you. You allowed him to, looking at him like he had a death wish as he pinned you to your car.

“I saw you inside the club,” he said.

“...and?” you wondered, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Just a bit surprised to see a girl like you all alone… Dressed like that, you must be looking for something,” he grinned.

You scoffed, pushing against him.

“Get lost, creep.”

He snatched your hand, applying what you were sure he thought was painful pressure. You glowered at him as he pressed himself more firmly against you, and you could feel him hot and hard beneath his jeans.

“I really hate teases like you, you know,” he sneered. “You come out dressed like whores, knowing exactly what you look like, what kind of attention you’re looking for, and then when you get it… You get all surprised on us.”

You tilted your head at him, eyes narrowing.

“Nobody plays hard to get anymore. We see right through it.”

You pressed your lips together, mind whirling as you looked away. With a smirk, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his. He groaned into your mouth, tight grip still on your hand. When you pulled back, you licked your lips, brushing your nose against his.

“You caught me,” you chuckled. “Wanna come back to my place? I’ll drive.”

He grinned at you with a nod, taking a step back. By the time you got behind the wheel, he was already seated. He whistled at the interior of the car, and you threw him a sly smile as you started it.

“This yours?”

“It’s my ex’s,” you told him with a shrug.

It wasn’t a lie. James had been your ex at the time, angry with him for something you could hardly recall. The not-so-breakup breakup lasting a few months before Steve intervened. You just didn’t mention that you and said ex were happily back together.

The would be rapist talked the entire way as you sped down the road to upstate New York. If he took note of the long commute, he didn’t comment on it. Then again, why would he? He was far too preoccupied with getting laid. When you pulled up in front of the large and isolated mansion, you noticed the way his eyes briefly widened. The corner of your lips lifted just a bit as you took note of the way his heart skipped a beat.

The house was quiet, lighting dim when you entered, and you wondered if they were still asleep. You hoped not. You knew they had to be hungry. Before you could think more on it, the man behind you, Brock was what he called himself, wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. You didn’t react as he pressed kisses to your neck, your hungry eyes looking around for any sign of Steve or James instead.

“This is a nice place, kind of big for one woman.” he commented.

Footsteps reached your ears, far too soft for him to notice, and you bit your lip, fighting a smile.

“I agree,” you breathed, spinning around to cover his lips with your own.

His hands were tight on your waist, lips hungry and tongue searching, and the only reason disgust didn’t fill you was because you knew this would be worth it in only a matter of seconds.

“Doll…?”

You pulled away, ignoring the look on Brock’s face as you turned to grin at Steve. Your hands were on the raven-haired man’s face, your own visage practically glowing.

“Stevie,” you coolly responded.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as he took in the way the strange man held you, and your stomach flipped. You skipped towards him, hanging onto his arm as he continued to stare at the other man, a thousand ways to kill him running through his head, no doubt.

“What is the meaning of this?” he quietly demanded.

“What the fuck is going on?”

You ignored Brock, pouting at the blond man.

“He thought he could make me do whatever he wanted, Steve,” you whispered.

His head snapped towards you, jaw clenching as he ran his eyes over you. He knew that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, but it was a habit he had no intentions of breaking.

“...so...I thought I’d bring him home…”

A smirk danced along his lips.

“Is that so?” he wondered, slowly turning to face the other man who was seconds away from leaving.

Too quickly for his eye to see, Steve was upon him, a hand digging into his shoulder. Brock barely had time to make any kind of noise before your husband was brutally tearing into his throat. You quietly approached them as Steve greedily drank from the skeevy man. He was dead by the time you reached them, and Steve lifted his head towards you, face stained, blood crawling down his neck.

He growled before smashing his lips against yours. You were reluctant to admit that the dead scum tasted better than you thought he would, but fear always did make the blood taste sweeter. You heard his body drop to the ground as Steve pressed his hands into your neck, tongue tasting the inside of your mouth while yours tasted the blood on his. You only pulled away when you heard a sigh, and you both turned to face James at the bottom of the stairs.

“What have I said about in the house?”

He sounded exasperated, but didn’t look particularly upset. You had the distinct feeling that he heard everything, and the reluctant smile that found its way onto his lips confirmed that. He beckoned you over, and you complied.

“Still mad at me?” he wondered, pinching your chin.

“No,” you said, shaking your head.

He pecked your lips.

“Good. I’ll help you get rid of that, Steve...and my love?”

He had brushed past you, and you turned to look at him expectantly.

“Yes…?”

“Never in the house,” he lightly scolded.

You returned his scowl with a grin.

The shard broke off deep into his neck, and Steve hissed, reaching to dig it out just as you plunged the other half into his chest.

“Fucking hell!”

Your palm connected with his cheek just before he shoved himself away from you, and you were determined to follow when strong familiar arms wrapped around you from behind, pinning your arms at your side.

“Let go of me,” you cried.

“Y/N-.”

“Let. Go. Of. Me!”

James did not listen, and instead you found yourself pinned to the wall, his arms preventing you from moving. You glared past his shoulder, trying in vain to kill Steve with your vision alone. The blond winced as he tore the broken glass from his neck, blood soaking into his shirt.

“He killed him,” you spat, lips trembling as the pain in your chest flared with the reminder of what Steve had done.

The man in question snapped his head up, eyes dark with anger and jealousy while his lip curled over his teeth.

“And I would happily do it again,” he sneered.

“He was my friend!”

“He coveted you,” Steve hissed, face only a hair’s width away from your own now. “You would think that after 400 plus years on this God forsaken earth, you would realize that.”

You frantically shook your head.

“No. Not everyone is like you, Steve. Not everyone has the worst intentions,” you screamed.

Steve simply rolled his eyes, turning away as he removed his shirt. You looked to James for help, anything to back you up, but he did not look the least bit remorseful about what Steve had done. He sighed, and you frowned.

“I gave Steve the okay,” he quietly confessed.

Your eyes widened, and you stumbled back out of his now loose hold. You stared at him in confusion, fighting to understand what he was telling you.

“W-what? You...you told him to kill Clint?”

James did not respond, and you swallowed, a sharp pain traveling through your chest.

“...why?” you softly asked. “He was my friend. He made me laugh, he listened to me…”

You ignored Steve’s scoff, and James reached out to brush his thumb over your chin.

“We cannot get attached to humans.”

“You did,” you threw at him. “Or have you forgotten how I ended up in this situation to begin with?”

Anger briefly flashed over his features, and you tilted your head at him.

“That was different-.”

“How so? Was it different because you can do whatever you want while I cannot? Or is it different because you felt threatened by him?”

James pressed his chest to yours, staring you down with a look you had never been on the receiving end of before. You shuddered, and he took another step forward, forcing you back.

“Threatened by a mere human who we snuffed out like it was nothing?”

“I enjoyed being around him. I enjoyed learning about the ever changing world. He reminded me of a life that Steve so cruelly ripped away from me, and you hated it,” you whispered.

James’ silence spoke volumes.

“Admit it. You were terrified that I would...what...turn him? Then run off into the sunset, leaving the two of you behind?”

Now it was your turn to scoff.

“How quickly you forget that I am nothing like you...and that I could never do to someone else what you have done to me,” you snidely told him.

James sharply inhaled, straightening to his full height.

“You are ours, and it will remain that way until the end of time.”

You looked down, but James’ hand on your chin forced you to hold his uncharacteristically cold gaze.

“...and Steve and I will kill whomever we see fit to ensure nothing disrupts that.”

You snatched your face out of his grip, tears in your eyes.

“He did not taste half bad. You should have drank from him when you had the chance,” Steve chuckled.

Only a moment later, your hands were on his face, and he collapsed at your feet. Anger coursed through you as you stared down at him, wishing you had the strength and callousness to drive a stake through his heart. James heaved a sigh from behind you, and you felt him approach.

“You cannot keep doing that every time he upsets you, my love.”

You turned to face him, frown deepening when he placed his hand on your cheek. You copied him, placing your other hand on his other cheek, before breaking his neck with a grimace. You scoffed, shaking your head at them both before storming out of the room.

The storm raged around you as you stared down into the overgrown grass. Centuries upon centuries had passed, and while it was certainly not as grand as it had once been, the basic structure of the castle remained. You had no doubt that in the years to come, it would be a tourist attraction. Nothing else from the building mattered much. The only thing that was of some importance, the balcony, remained, and that was all that you cared about.

You pressed your hand to your lips as you looked around, feeling like it was only yesterday that you had been here. If you thought hard enough, you could recall the early days of your marriage, filled with innocence and naivety. You could even recall the respect and admiration you’d had for Steve then, back when he was a king. Your relationship with the blond was much more complicated these days than you cared to admit.

And if you really relaxed, really thought hard enough, you could see her smile. You could see the way her hair caught the sun, looking almost red at times. You could hear her laugh at some jest that was far too inappropriate for a woman to make back then. If you thought hard enough, you could see...her.

You didn’t realize that you had closed your eyes until they snapped open at the familiar warmth in your chest that was growing by the minute. You hadn’t intended to bond with Steve that night, it sort of just happened, and the damage had been done. At least he had taught you how to feel his presence deep within your chest, a warmth that was always there but had not realized was James...and now Steve too. It was how James always found you every time you took off. You didn’t like that he’d hidden that from you…

You didn’t need to turn around to know that he was there. You could feel him like he was touching you instead of way on the other side of the room. He didn’t say anything, and you got the feeling that James had grown worried, had told him to come find you. After all, it had been a few months since you last saw them. It was how you coped when you couldn’t stand to look at their faces. You could feel Steve’s surprise at finding you here.

“Why did you kill her?” you suddenly wondered, voice quiet.

The rain was loud, words drowned out even more as you were on the balcony, but you knew that he heard you all the same.

“I loved her...and you took her away from me. Why?”

“...because I couldn’t control her,” he eventually responded, equally low voice reaching your ears.

Steve didn’t sound boastful, he didn’t even sound satisfied with himself. In fact, the vampire behind you almost sounded regretful.

“...and me?”

You blinked, tears skipping down your face as you finally turned to face him. Your eyes met his, and his jaw clenched as he took note of the way your own shined.

“Why did you kill me?”

Steve didn’t answer, and you stumbled towards him.

“Why, Steve? You...you threw me off of that balcony. You took my life into your hands, and you just crushed it! Like it was nothing… You killed me.”

“I know-.”

“You killed me!”

You shoved him, and he let you. He swallowed, reaching for you. It was always so fresh in your mind. Your fear, the cruel smirk on his face, his heartlessness...and then the pain. The way he laughed when you had killed your maid. Mary Jane. So many had died as the result of his own selfish desires...

“I know, I know.”

“You killed me, Steve,” you cried, hitting his chest, his shoulders, his face.

He merely blinked as you slapped him again. You could feel his own regret and his own despair and it made you angrier. It was centuries too late.

“You killed me, you killed me, you killed me,” you repeatedly sobbed, shoving him and shaking him over and over again. “Why?”

You fisted your hands into his shirt, yanking him.

“Why did you kill me, Steve? Why...why did you do that to me?” you shakily mumbled, lips trembling.

Steve pressed his hand into the back of your head, the other at the small of your back, and you fought against him.

“You were going to leave us,” he reluctantly said. “You were going to leave me…”

You didn’t meet his eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“My feelings then may have been just as complicated as they are now, but I only knew that I couldn't let you leave,” he confessed.

You shook your head, a sob caught in your throat.

“You would have tried again...and you would have succeeded,” he breathed.

He was right. You both knew that he was right, and you would have tried again. After all, at the time, you thought it was your only way to get away from him. Steve’s lips sought out yours, and you turned your head away. His regret threatened to suffocate you.

“I’m sorry,” he exhaled.

You shook your head again, turning away every time he reached for your face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, lips finding yours.

Your back hit the wall, and you could feel his own lips trembling against yours. Your salty tears mixed in with the kiss, and you cried harder at your despair, his regret, and your inability to change the past.

“Forgive me,” he pleaded into your mouth.

“No,” you whispered back.

His lips traveled to your jaw and then your neck before kissing the fabric of your dress as Steve fell to his knees, begging for your forgiveness every step of the way.

“Forgive me, forgive me,” he chanted.

Your hands tangled in his hair as he fiercely kissed your stomach, pressing his face into your dress as he continued to beg for your forgiveness. You never thought you’d see the day where Steve would be on his knees, begging you to forgive him. After all, once upon a time, he’d told you that your forgiveness was not what he sought...and once upon a time, you said you’d never give it.

As your fingers tightened in his hair, you thought to yourself that perhaps you could forgive him. You could feel his remorse, feel how what he’d done had been eating at him. It had been doing so for quite some time, but you’d always tried to ignore it. You never thought a day would come where you’d even consider forgiving him for making your life hell, killing Peggy...killing you, but as his pleas reached your ears, you were tempted to give in. Maybe you would forgive him some day…

In one quick movement, you’d snapped Steve’s neck, and he heavily fell at your feet. You stood against the wall, trembling and crying. Your fingers shook, and in all the years you’d done that whenever Steve made you incredibly angry, for the first time ever, it did not bring you joy.

Maybe you would forgive Steve someday...but today was not that day.

Your watchful eyes followed the children as they ran across the street. Despite their ratty clothing and dirty faces, bright smiles adorned their lips as they laughed and played with one another. The owner of the orphanage, a kind and homely woman, ushered them along. You caught her eye and she waved. You returned it with a smile, James and Steve hardly paying you mind as they conversed about their investments.

You had more money than you could ever dream of, so you donated to the orphanage often. The children who always lived there always looked their best now, but you could see that these kids were new. You watched the way they played amongst each other, running around Ms. Jane, their giggles reaching your ears as she fought to settle them down.

“My love?”

You were pulled from the scene at the sound of James’ voice. His brows were furrowed, and he looked concerned.

“Are you alright…?”

You nodded at him.

“Of course.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t entirely true either. You were certain that James could feel that, and that was probably why his face briefly pinched before it smoothed out. He reached past Steve to brush a finger over your cheek, a small smile on his lips just before he turned away. You quickly glanced at the children again before tightening your hold on Steve’s arm.

“Steve…”

You glanced to him just as he turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Can vampires procreate?”

You didn’t like to ask James these things. He had a habit of withholding information from you or even just downright sugarcoating things. You could feel his eyes on you, and you ignored his gaze as you waited for Steve to answer. He threw you a strained smile.

“No...but we sure love to try,” he joked, and you reluctantly chuckled.

You looked away from him, and he brushed a finger over the back of your hand.

“Why do you ask?”

Your eyes strayed to the laughing children again, and you shrugged.

“Just curious, I guess…”

You could feel their concern, but you ignored it, and days later, the conversation was forgotten altogether. But every now and then, you thought about those children, about where they lived. Despite the fact that you’d put a lot of money into the place, they still deserved a proper home.

Steve and James were gone when you left. It was late, and they were meeting with shady businessmen, no doubt. Times were different. It was the 1910’s, an age of cars and alcohol and money, and every man wanted to do business with the elusive Steve Rogers and James Barnes. You smirked to yourself, thinking on how everyone thought them to be descendants of royal blood, unaware that they were indeed the original royal blood everyone thought them to be related to.

The night was cold, not that you could tell, but the frost on the windows and the shivers from the men that you passed told you so. You ignored the strange looks they gave you, a woman such as yourself out so late by your lonesome? That was one thing that hadn’t changed in the years to come. The orphanage was in a better part of town, away from the seedy bar and brothel, no predatory and violent men around to disturb the peace of the children.

You could hear a horse and carriage far off in the distance as you stared up at the building. All of the windows were covered with curtains, and when you listened closely, you could hear the calm and even heartbeats of all the children inside. All except one. You frowned when the door opened and a little boy stood in the open doorway with an empty pail. His eyes widened at the sight of you before a smile eventually graced his lips.

“H-hello,” he hesitantly stuttered.

You stared at him for a long while, blinking at him before eventually squatting to meet him at eye level. He couldn’t have been any older than seven.

“Hi,” you breathed. “What are you doing up so late?”

If he was frightened by your sharp teeth, he did not show it. His heart didn’t even stutter. He held up the bucket with a shrug.

“I wanted to get some water for in the morning, so that Ms. Jane wouldn’t have to,” he told you.

You let out a light laugh.

“That is so sweet. What is your name?”

“Billy…”

You quietly repeated it to yourself, and you stared at him, your heart already making your next decision for you before your mind could catch up. You slowly stood, extending your hand towards him with an inviting smile.

“Are you hungry, Billy?”

You got the feeling that he was going to protest, but his stomach told on him before he got the chance.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod, looking sheepish.

Your smile widened, and your heart soared when he stumbled towards you, placing his smaller hand in yours. As you walked him back to the house, he told you of how Ms. Jane did the best she could with the donations, but the orphanage was filling up with more and more kids each year. He was fairly new, only having been there for all of three months. He marveled at your mansion, brown eyes alight with wonder.

He was well behaved, waiting patiently while you fixed him something to eat. You were happy that he was comfortable with you, talking your ear off the entire time. You made sure to fix him a hearty soup, filled with vegetables and plenty of meat. He didn’t seem to mind as you studied him, far too engrossed in the food before him.

You hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

“Y/N.”

Startled, you turned, looking up to find James and Steve standing in the entryway to the living room. Billy and you were on the floor, the fire lit to keep him warm, and you hurriedly stood. James hardly ever called you by your name, and you did not need to look within yourself to know that he was angry. It was written all over his face.

“Is that your name?” Billy asked you.

You turned to him with a strained smile and nod.

“You stay right here, okay?”

You ruffled his hair, and he smiled at you with an obedient nod. You swallowed as you turned to approach James and Steve, not missing the way James’ eyes never left you. You could feel their worry, and that confused you.

“What have you done?” James demanded, and you flinched at his tone.

“I…”

You gestured to Billy.

“There are so many children in the orphanage, so I-.”

“So you brought him here? To a house full of vampires?”

He talked to you like you were stupid, and you looked to Steve for help, but his own face was pinched with worry, blue eyes flickering between you and the boy.

“We can raise him,” you quietly said. “He’ll never have to want for anything-.”

“No,” James snapped.

“James-.”

“You could have killed him. Exposed all of us,” he argued. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that he could be ours,” you weakly replied, hating the way your voice trembled.

James’ eyes softened, shoulders sagging as he heaved a sigh. You looked to Steve, the blond the more open minded of the two, eyes pleading as you reached for him.

“Steve…? Tell him, Steve,” you said, pushing yourself against him. “Let me keep him.”

Steve’s eyes landed on James, the dark-haired man almost daring Steve to say something.

“Let’s just think about it-.”

“Absolutely not. We’ll be lucky if no one has already noticed his absence…”

“No,” you breathed. “James, no.”

“I’m taking him back. Now,” he hissed, brushing past you.

“No,” you cried, standing in his way. “I hardly ask you for anything.”

James’ eyes widened at your uncharacteristic behavior, and you clutched his shirt.

“...and I should. I should ask you for the world. I deserve it! I can take care of him, James.”

Your voice was small, and James gave you a regretful look before glancing away.

“Let me have this one thing,” you softly begged.

James was quiet, so was Steve, and the only sound was that of Billy finishing his food. James clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring before finally speaking.

“Steve.”

You fought in Steve’s hold as he grabbed you, holding you back as James approached Billy. You screamed as he stared into the boy’s eyes, Billy falling asleep only moments later, James catching him with ease.

“Fuck you, James,” you spat as he passed you. “Fuck you!”

You could feel the pain that your words caused, but you didn’t care. You turned to press your face into Steve’s chest as the door slammed shut, collapsing in his arms. He tightened his arms around you, shushing you as sobs wracked your frame.

“You could have killed him.”

“I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t have done that-.”

“You don’t know that,” he said. “You’re still fairly young. You could have easily killed him, and then what?”

You shoved yourself away from Steve, wrapping your arms around yourself as you sniffed.

“You did this to me,” you mumbled.

It was an old argument. You and Steve were in a far better place than what you used to be, but you were still so far from where you could be. You looked to him, eyes hard and lip curling over your teeth.

“I wanted kids. I always wanted kids, and you took that away from me…”

Steve sighed, looking down.

“I want to blame you...but the truth is...a part of me hates James too,” you confessed.

“Y/N-.”

“...because the truth is...that life was gone the moment James decided that I was to be his.”

Steve reached for you, but you stepped away. Your eyes briefly fluttered close, a soft scoff escaping your lips.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered, shaking your head. “It’s not fair.”

You flurried past him, slamming your shoulder into his as you passed by.

Steve’s hold was almost bruising on your hips, his own pushing up into yours over and over again with every thrust. You dug your nails into his chest, head thrown back to accommodate for James, his lips tasting the skin of your neck and shoulder. Your lashes fluttered as you clenched around Steve, and James’ nails pressed into your skin.

“I don’t like that he touched you,” he murmured against your skin.

You sighed when Steve wrapped his lips around a hardened bud.

“It was a means to an end…”

James hummed, Steve far too preoccupied with the way his cock slid in and out of you.

“...and if I had to seduce some other woman as a means to an end?” he wondered.

His tone was teasing, and you all knew he wasn’t serious, but you froze anyway, turning your head to stare into his eyes. Your own hardened considerably, and James chuckled at the fire in your eyes.

“A bit of a double standard, no?”

“James,” Steve dragged out, frustrated that you’d stopped moving. “Why must you choose now of all times to upset her?”

“It was a simple question,” the dark-haired man said with a shrug.

“The day you seduce someone else, a means to an end or not, is the day I finally drive a stake through your heart,” you calmly told him.

James smirked, brushing his lips over yours.

“Come now, my love. I was only teasing…”

With a devious smile of your own, you twisted your hand into his hair, thankful that he’d never cut it too short, before forcing him onto his back beside Steve. You dragged your nails along his chest, drawing blood and taking great satisfaction in the way he’d hissed. You moved your hips over Steve’s as you leaned over to glide your tongue over his skin, James moaning at the feel. Your teeth ached, the desire to sink your teeth into him strong. Your lips moved against his heaving chest as you spoke.

“I don’t joke about what’s mine.”

tags: @mcudarklibrary @harryspet @xoxabs88xox @darkficreposter @opheliadawnwalker3 @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @readermia @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @buckybarnesplumwhore @quaksonhehe @nerdygirl8203 @patzammit @mandiiblanche @cocoamoonmalfoy @mrsdeanwinchester19 @ahoemine @9daykrisr

#dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark steve x reader #dark bucky x reader #vampire!stucky #Dark fics #marvel fanfiction #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing | drabble i. | m

WARNINGS. jealous jk, jk's gf is hot and he's not the only one who thinks that, jimin and tae as instigators, i swear jimin and jk love each other, fucking in public spaces aka a car in a parking lot, jk luvs his gf, appearance of perpetrator jin!

NOTE. i missed this couple 🥺oc is living her hot girl summer life and jk does nawt know how to deal with it Lol. hope u enjoy loves!!!!

WORDS. 3k+

“I’m okay,” Jungkook murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as he repeats his own personal mantra. “I’m good. I’m fine—I’m chill. Chillest person ever. I’m good—”

“He’s not okay,” Taehyung snickers.

Jungkook blocks the negativity out, purposefully and intentionally. Nothing could ruin his day—not on his watch, especially as the sun shines over bodies across the beach while the waves break into beautiful fragments that he’s yearning to dip his feet into.

Personal affirmations came first.

“I’m good, I’m fine, I’m okay,” he chants like a crazy person, definitely earning some form of side-eye from the people next to him but he can’t be bothered. Another person thinking that he was insane wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him—not when—

“You should open your eyes,” Jimin says, “How are you going to fight them if you don’t know thy enemy?”

Immediately, Jungkook’s peace is disturbed by the mouth of Park Jimin, who painfully reminds him of why he’s got into the entire personal mantra and affirmation thing. He used to think it was redundant, unnecessary. How could the universe return your wishes just as you’ve uttered them into the atmosphere? It didn’t seem logical to him.

But right now, that didn’t matter—not when he had bigger things to be worried about.

“Don’t disturb my peace,” Jungkook snaps.

“They did it first,” Jimin retorts, cocking his head towards the flock of people at a certain part of the beach, specifically towards where the water meets the shore.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. His peace is disrupted, his happiness is compromised and it’s all Park Jimin’s fault. He spent a good amount of time getting into his zone, reaffirming himself that he was in fact, fine, good—he was okay! But now, he feels all his resolve dissolve when he realises he can’t even see the main thing that was responsible for his dilemmas.

“You’d think a celebrity was on this beach,” Taehyung snorts.

“Not helping,” Jungkook says dryly.

“So isn’t your crazy person chanting,” Jimin points out, “but yet, here we are—listening to you reciting your own version of a biblical verse.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook grits for the umpteenth time, and no less is his assertions any more convincing than it was a moment ago. The flicker of his irises towards to crowd is enough to prove that fact. “I’m just enjoying my day at the beach with my friends and my girlfriend.”

“See, there are two false statements in that,” Taehyung tilts his head downwards, offering a smug smirk that Jungkook wishes he could shove into the sand beneath him. “You’re definitely not enjoying this because I can see the veins protruding out of your neck at how hard you’re clenching your jaw, and”—the older boy makes the effort to taunt Jungkook further by letting out a low whistle the moment the crowd seems to grow slightly bigger—“you’re partially right about the friend part. Your girlfriend though … where is she?”

I’m good. I’m okay. I’m cool—

“Oblivious, as usual,” Jimin sighs, plopping back onto the beach towel beneath him while shooting Jungkook a pointed stare. “It’d be sad if you only called her your girlfriend for six months when you’ve been in love with her for seven years.”

“Okay that’s it. I’m going there,” Jungkook declares, huffing as he pushes himself off the ground while Jimin makes an effort to grab at his ankle, halting the younger boy from causing any damage and potentially getting them banned from ever returning.

“Not with that temper you aren’t,” Jimin snaps, “Sit your ass down. God. Can’t you take a joke?”

“A joke?” Jungkook splutters, abhorred. “You literally just said she’s going to break up with me!”

“I said that it’d be sad if—”

“Same fucking difference,” he hisses, rubbing a hand across his face before he kicks Jimin’s petty grip off his ankle while levelling him with a menacing glare. Jungkook’s eyes slowly drift to the side where you finally enter his vision, still smiling like the soft and sweet person you were as you help Namjoon with whatever crab hunting mission he had.

See, Jungkook’s mature enough to know that you and Namjoon were good friends, great ones, even. The two of you were smart and clicked well, and if anything, Jungkook was more envious of the fact that the two of you shared such a wholesome and meaningful friendship than anything else.

The fact that Namjoon used to have feelings for you didn’t bother Jungkook anymore, not when he knew where your heart truly laid. He also trusted Namjoon with his entire life and his firstborns (not that he’d ever tell you that, and God—did he hope that day would eventually come when it came to you). But still, Jungkook was mature—he did some growing up, and he was proud of that.

But Jungkook’s human, a flawed, ever-learning and constantly improving human. A human who’s crazy in love with his pretty girlfriend that he’s longed for years—and a human who isn’t blind. A human who can’t ignore the fact that, apparently, he wasn’t the only person that was trying to keep himself in check at how stunning you were. Every day—and especially today, with how your dainty yellow bikini drapes over the curves of your body.

Jungkook nearly cries. Yellow was his favourite colour. You wore it for him.

Not for—

“Maybe you should head over,” Taehyung murmurs, snapping Jungkook out of his love-filled mind as his eyes clear, immediately catching what his friend was referring to.

Some dude. Talking to you. Smiling at you like you carried all the answers to all the world problems as you giggle a tune comparable to birds chirping. Maybe Jungkook was exaggerating but it always sounded like you were singing his favourite song even if you were just explaining economical concepts to him like a soothing e-book.

“God, why couldn’t she have been ugly,” Jungkook groans.

“You wouldn’t have dated her otherwise,” Jimin retorts.

Jungkook gawks, affronted as he gives his two friends a scandalised expression as he places his hands over his chest to indicate the offence he took to that statement.

“I’m not superficial,” he huffs, “I fell in love with her because of her—”

“Personality, yada yada,” Jimin mocks him in a lower tune that has Jungkook glaring at him. “Yeah, okay. But don’t tell me that her being pretty doesn’t help you bust a nut every once in a while.”

Jungkook flushes.

“Well, yeah, but I’m her boyfriend—”

“Thank you for reminding me that you are in fact, still a boy,” Jimin rolls his eyes, “Men. Mansplaining everything, really.”

Jungkook’s jaw slackens as his eyes briefly land on Taehyung’s figure who doesn’t look too bothered with how the conversation turned out as he shrugs in response.

“How about you do the typical manly thing of being a jealous prick and go over there and stomp over all her fan club members,” Jimin says sarcastically, resting his arm over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

There’s a brief rustle from where the sand meets the towel, and a relatively long period of silence while the only thing that permeates the air is the sound of waves with laughter coming from a family a distance away.

“He did exactly that, didn’t he.”

“You need to stop giving him ideas,” Taehyung sighs, plopping a grape into his mouth before occupying the space next to his friend. “Should we find another beach to frequent?”

“Really?” you laugh, “That’s so cool! I’m actually planning on landing an apprenticeship there over the summer.”

“Oh?” The man is leaning way too close to you for comfort, but you’re unfazed. Jungkook doesn’t even want to know where the hell Namjoon had gone, leaving you with this broad-shouldered, terrifyingly handsome man. “I could definitely put a good word in for you if you’d like.”

You beam, appreciative rather than brazen. But Jungkook thinks the man doesn’t know that.

“I don’t think I can accept that, Seokjin.”

And of course, you knew his name.

“Why not?” Seokjin smirks, and Jungkook knows that it’s definitely done him justice in other situations. “For a beautiful—”

“____,” he interjects, smoothly (or not quite) sliding next to you as his arms wrap around your waist before his glare rests on the man before him, who looks both shocked and unbothered at his appearance. “Who’s this?”

You jump slightly at Jungkook’s arrival but relax when you realise that it was just him and not some other beach weirdo.

“Jungkook, this is Seokjin! He actually attended our university—”

“Really,” he says dryly, “That’s nice.”

“Is this your …?” Seokjin looks Jungkook up and down before settling with a rather unimpressed look. “Do seniors usually bring their shadows out for playdates?”

Your eyes widen at his patronising tone, and before can even think to correct him with a tilted frown, Jungkook’s fingers dig into your waist, a precursor to his jaw that clenches while he engages in his own version of a staredown with the man before you.

“Boyfriend.”

Seokjin raises a brow.

“Me,” Jungkook blinks, unnerved and quite frankly, tired. He’s crossed this bridge enough times, and it’s always the same. Some older dude who thought that you were doing charity work by having Jungkook tag along with like some puny little brother. “I’m her boyfriend.”

“Jungkook—” you start, softly reaching to grip his arm.

“Interesting,” Seokjin says offhandedly and Jungkook knows it’s anything but. “Well, my offer still stands.”

He’s directing it to you as you peer up at him with your notoriously innocent eyes. Jungkook hates that this douche is still unaffected by his blatant declaration of the fact that you were—taken.

“I—that’s fine, Seokjin,” you say softly, lips curling into a thankful smile before he nods.

The look he sends Jungkook is nothing short of unimpressed, and Jungkook’s thinking of clamming the dude into the sand and quite literally, bury the hatchet with him. Sure, he was handsome and broad, and undoubtedly ripped—but Jungkook trained to benchpress twice his weight so he could beat up assholes who tried to hit on his girlfriend.

Right before he leaves, Jungkook calls for his name—intentionally calling him Seokmin—noting the way his face drops into a scowl.

“You’re not her type.”

He scoffs.

“And you are?” he throws back, brows raised as a challenge.

“That’s why I get to hold her and you’re walking away.”

With that, Seokjin doesn’t bother responding to Jungkook, especially in the way that you gawk at your boyfriend’s blatant warning to the older man.

He titters off, and it’s effectively just you and Jungkook standing by the shore while you briefly see the way Namjoon stutters before deciding to return to where Jimin and Taehyung lays.

Jungkook’s still seething in his rage, clenching and unclenching his fists even though he got the last word. It wasn’t that he thought you’d elope with Seokjin and leave him—he trusted you wholeheartedly and vice versa. He knew you loved him and so did he.

It had more to do with the fact that Seokjin saw you, and eventually, him—and thought that Jungkook wasn’t fit to be your boyfriend. That he saw a gorgeous girl on the beach and expected her to be single, and if not—to be with a boyfriend that had his shit together and not … not Jungkook.

“Jungkook?” you say quietly, tugging at his elbow while you peer up at him with wide and apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry.”

It’s no good, the fact that you’re apologising. As if you were responsible for his insecurities when you’ve done nothing but shower him with love and support ever since the two of you started officially dating.

“Don’t apologise,” he says stiffly, though his heart isn’t angry—he can’t help the way his words get out. “It’s not your fault.”

“But—”

“If you apologise then you’re gonna piss me off, baby,” he says lightly, peering you down with a small smirk as your eyes widen.

“I—okay,” you say weakly, and before he knows it, you’re intertwining your fingers with his, eyes suddenly twinkling in a way he’s grown all too familiar with.

“You have the keys?” he murmurs softly.

You nod, blind and in love as you sigh.

“Take care of me?” you ask sweetly, and Jungkook forgets all about Seokjin when he has you right in front of him.

“O-Oh, fuck—Jungkook—ngh—”

Maybe Jungkook really was a crazy person, but he’d argue that you were equally as crazy to oblige to indulge in his lewd fantasies. He was crazy, for you and your cunt that was like nirvana, and it’s proven further when he fucks into you at a brutal pace, uncaring whether or not the car shakes with the exertion of the activities that were taking place in it.

It could be the fact that he had a decade worth of fantasies to play out, but he knows that he plays a huge part in opening your sexual nature and he couldn’t be happier about it, especially when you unabashedly throw your head onto your chest, whimpering with the dirty squelches of his thrusts that echo in the vehicle.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he growls, hand wrapping around the back of your neck to force your glassy eyes to look at him.

The look on your face is enough to get Jungkook even more riled up, your flushed cheeks and swollen lips while you nod your head manically, crazy—and his.

“Y-Yours,” you whimper, and just about then, Jungkook brings your hips down with his free hand and meets you with a sharp thrust that has your mouth dropping open and your face scrunched up in pleasure. “F-Fuck, J-Jungkook.”

“No one gets to fuck you like this,” he hisses, pressing a hot kiss to your neck as you whine, hips involuntarily swivelling to meet his fast pace. The car is shaking and it’s all too risky, Jungkook knows that—but his rationale is clouded with the antagonising face of Seokjin. “No one gets to see you like this. Only I do.”

“Y-Yes!” you sob, clutching onto him as he feels your pussy tighten viciously around him, the walls of your inner linings spasming as Jungkook hisses at the feeling. “Only you K-Kook. Only ever want you.”

Jungkook believes you, especially when you desperately hold onto him as he feels himself slowly reach the edge. He knows you are too, especially when your whines get higher in pitch, and your tugs against his shoulders get tighter. He knows because he’s learnt about your body as your boyfriend—and he’s the only person that will ever get to have you like this.

The thought, paired along with the risk of your situation only fuels his determination to get you off, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you to root you into place as he shoves his cock deeper into you.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he croons as you mewl in pleasure, breathless whines turning more desperate as your eyes flutter shut. “You wanna show me how much you want me?”

You nod manically, your pussy fluttering around his length as he grunts in exertion.

“G-Gonna—pleasedon’tstop—fuck, I-I’m cumming—!” you cry, tugging your face into the crook of his neck as Jungkook bites his lips in focus, all ready to accept your hot pleasure and his own.

“Come for me,” he encourages, lips hovering over your earlobe as you obey his orders, head thrown back as he watches your mouth drop wider and your eyes roll to the back of your head, pussy tightening around his length.

Jungkook thinks you’re beautiful. On days where you don’t feel like you do, but he may be biased to say that he thinks you look absolutely stunning for him like this. When he knows that he’s the one responsible for your reddened cheeks, the way you so desperately cling onto him whenever you’d orgasm (the only person that would ever know this fact about you), and the way that you’re left breathless, satiated and with that hazed expression after his resolute efforts.

Jungkook cums shortly after, with those exact thoughts plaguing his mind. He was so whipped. He really only had to think of you and he would get hard, and having you right above him, soft and warm with your arms draped loosely over his form made his heart all mushy and soft despite the way his cock stands erect.

You mewl in oversensitivity although you don’t complain. You never do, whenever Jungkook cums after you. Even now, when Jungkook comes down from his high with pants of his own, his own mind-clearing while his cock softens in you—you remain patient. Patient like the ever-loving, wonderful girlfriend that you were—one that Jungkook wasn’t sure he deserved.

“Wow,” you giggle, forehead resting against his as you return from your own post-orgasmic bliss. “I can’t believe I let you fuck me in a parking lot.”

Jungkook flushes, reality sinking in when he realised that the two of you weren’t hidden from plain sight. While the idea of being caught was definitely arousing, Jungkook knew he wasn’t too keen on having anyone see you delirious, even if it was all for him. He was lucky enough that your bikini top remained on the entire time, but both your sweaty bodies were enough of a dead giveaway.

“I just,” Jungkook tries to explain, words slurring in embarrassment as you raise a brow at him. “You look really pretty today.”

You stare at his forlorn expression as if admitting that pained him. Jungkook feels slightly embarrassed at how he reacted, and if you notice this, you don’t point it out—yet.

“Wore this for you,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to the mole under his lip. Jungkook’s heart soars at your admission even if he knew that. “You know it’s only for you, right?”

Your question is purposeful and Jungkook shamefully looks to his lap, and even then—you’re still connected. He slowly pulls out, wincing when his cum threatens to pool out of your pussy, but before he can pretend to clean you up, you’re putting your bikini bottoms back in place and clamping your hands over his cheeks so that he’d look at you.

“Jungkook,” you say sternly.

He sighs.

“Yes,” he groans, feeling a lot like a child who’s being berated. “I just—God. He was such a prick.”

“I know,” you say gently, fingers combing through his hair while he melts into your touch. “There are a lot of pricks out there, but you know that I only love you, right?”

Your confession is the same as the one you’ve made six months ago, and just last night before the two of you fell asleep—but it’s a confession that Jungkook never grows tired of.

“I know,” he mumbles as you giggle at him. “It’s just that … he really thought he had a chance with you, and when he saw me it was like—”

You frown, finger pressed against his lips to stop his rambling as he peers up at you with doe-eyes.

“None of that,” you chide lightly, “I don’t care what people think. The only person I care about is you, and no one will change that, okay?”

Jungkook feels himself relax into your touch, especially when you lean forward to capture his lips in a soft kiss that isn’t set to lead anywhere. He remembers. He remembers the times where you were unsure and all too worried of the words of others—and here you were, with him and with your gentle and loving soul, the embodiment of comfort as you tell him the words he’s always known but needs to be reminded of.

“I love you,” he says quietly as you grin widely at him, “Sorry for—you know.”

You roll your eyes, lifting your leg to get off his lap as you wince at the cum that threatens to escape your lips.

“I mean, it was kind of hot,” you shrug with a small smirk.

“God, I’ve created a monster,” Jungkook snorts, looking over at you when you shoot him a devious grin.

“You love it,” you throw back cheekily, leaning into his shoulder as he wraps an arm around you with a sigh.

He does. And he knows that he’s the only one that you’ll love back.

#bad boy good thing #bbgt #bts #bts fics #bts series #bad boy good thing drabbles #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x oc #bts fanfiction #jungkook scenario #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook

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fedzkun · 3 years

Text

Villain Hunt Arc Meta: All For One’s Horrific Guide to Methodically Breaking Down Your Local OFA Holder

Ft. Turning the ‘Overpoweredness’ of OFA into a Setback, and AFO’s Successful Manipulations Of Midoriya Izuku

In which I also give AFO too much credit for all the pain he’s probably caused, and theorize that his plans to break Izuku actually started getting enacted even before he’d escaped Tartarus.

(A.k.a. me loving the angst because this is really good angst writing, but also hating it because the manga doesn’t come with a Angst with A Happy Ending tag unless you count Izuku’s ‘this is the story of how I became the greatest hero’ which isn’t really a guarantee of happiness )

So. What an arc! In the span of ten chapters (starting from the end of the War arc) Hori delivered a full-on Villain-looking, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku. Congratulations, Horikoshi, for finally introducing Akatani Mikumo!

The fast pacing and lack of breather panels are so fitting for this arc truly. AFO never gave them a moment’s rest. Yes, from henceforth as he’d promised... It’s always going to be his turn.

Izuku is making amazing progress with unlocking the full power of One For All. In his words, his abilities might as well already be on par with what a healthier All Might could do, and with no recoil to boot. Plus, there’s only one last quirk to unlock. For villain fights, I don’t think we need to worry about him losing, or him breaking anymore bones at this time.

Which, some might argue, makes Izuku too ‘OP.’

To start with, I want to talk first about the ‘overpoweredness’ of the One For All quirk. It’s a wonderful quirk truly, having inspired and amazed so many because of its sheer power. Used well, it could grant instant victories and restore the people’s wavering faith to the heroes. Because with a quirk like that on your side, everything’s going to be alright, right? There’s always gonna be that bit of hope that something is still strong enough to stand against the looming evil...right?

Yeah. That’s what the people who’d lived under All Might’s Era of Peace thought so too. History repeats.

OFA’s ‘OP-ness’ is both a great blessing and a great burden.

Here are some points on how the narrative has made OFA's 'overpoweredness' a setback:

1. All For One—that bastard—exploits the urge that comes with OFA. Just as ‘AFO the quirk’s’ goal is to steal OFA, OFA’s job is to defeat AFO, and Izuku is sacrificing himself to its cause.

Here’s another thing I want to point out: The conclusion that the heroes drew about AFO planning to capture Midoriya Izuku alive? In rereading, I’m starting to believe it’s nothing but a mere assumption of his plans. Aside from the deal made with Lady Nagant—of which I think AFO didn’t take seriously anyway and set her up for failure— (and while we as readers are already aware of his true intentions to wear Izuku down) it’s weird that nowhere had AFO directly mentioned to Izuku that he’s going to kidnap him and take his quirk from him.

2. OFA made Izuku so brilliant (e.g. Pros and former Pros alike going “This kid...”) that they really can't help but place all their hopes on him. Sighs. In an ideal world, this would be a dream come true of Izuku getting his due credit for all his heroic achievements Pro heroes have started to do to Izuku what they’ve done all their lives to All Might--which is to put him on the pedestal, while they fall back to cover him like guards/safety net. Hence, falling back to the One Pillar Model mindset.

3. OFA makes Izuku untouchable, not only to the villains, but also to his allies. Prime material to reinforce isolation. And if Izuku doesn't want to be caught, he won't make it easy for either side.

4. OFA IS SUS AF, OKAY? What are the Holders doing?! While gaining access to them makes it easier and convenient to have personal trainers in handling OFA, the vestiges prove to add a lot to Izuku’s mental load. If they’d allowed Izuku to come to the point of being caked with blood and filth, they’re not doing very well at guiding him. Realize that most of their arc interactions with Izuku is Quirk Talk. They, of all people, should know how AFO’s machinations work! Hey First, for the love of god, warn Izuku! He’s showing so many signs of being manipulated that you should be picking up on. please /sobs ;;

Tbf, like, I’m pretty sure that the Holders haven’t been as mentally okay either, which would feed into Izuku’s current mindset.

Now that the setbacks have been listed, let’s dive in to AFO’s plans to toy with Midoriya Izuku.

PHASE 1: Pre-Tartarus Breakout

Speaking of OFA being sus, there’s something that has been niggling at the back of my mind.

All For One basically tells Izuku: “You were my main interest that entire time I was in prison”. So, to pass the time in Tartarus (since he can’t use any(?) of his quirks), AFO has been doing nothing but apparently daydreaming and designing a personal hell for the Ninth Holder during that entire period. HOWEVER, it also made me wonder…

…Even before he’d broken out, had AFO made any moves at all in enacting his plans to break Izuku?

Yeah?

And here’s the kicker: he says that before Blackwhip bursted out.

AFO is a master manipulator. Assuming that Izuku doesn’t have any latent AFO quirk (for whatever reason *coughs* maybe dfo if you're a believer) or that Quirk Singularity has anything to do with it, what is the trigger to Izuku suddenly having access to Blackwhip?

I’d argue that it is All For One himself.

Why? What’s his goal? If you notice during the Joint Training arc, Izuku is feeling pretty confident about his progress. He’s rather happy and feeling blessed, and he is making leaps and bounds with base power OFA.

AFO can’t have that. He can’t allow the Ninth Holder to become too emotionally stable, or else he’d have a stronger will. So by somehow activating Blackwhip, AFO makes Izuku feel like he hasn’t made any progress with his quirk at all. During the evaluations, Izuku mentions that he still needs a lot to work on, and while not all of it is visible, with the way he behaves, it’s pretty evident that his self-confidence has taken a rather large hit.

But, wait! If AFO had tampered with OFA during the JT arc, paving the way to unlocking the rest (like he’d also done during the War arc when he tried to ‘steal’ it then), then wouldn’t AFO be sabotaging himself since he’d be making Izuku a more formidable opponent?

Sure. Except that the quirks inside OFA are mostly useless when it comes to the mental part of the fighting. The only thing they’re useful for is for the current Holder to be able to play keep-away in the physical realm. And AFO could easily just find counters for those through his work on Tomura.

You know how else the situation becomes advantageous for AFO? With every quirk unlocked, Izuku’s goalposts keep on getting away from him, and Izuku will always feel like he isn’t ready or prepared enough. Izuku will push and push himself to master OFA to its fullest, to become more powerful, at the cost of his mental/emotional stability and physical wellbeing as he wears himself down.

And every time Izuku grew more powerful, and became more ‘OP,’ he is burdened with all the aforementioned setbacks that came with it. He could be the most powerful person in the world, but it’s all for naught if he doesn’t take care of himself. This plan is both a high risk and high reward on AFO’s part, and as of the moment, with a bloody Izuku staggering all over, AFO is visibly reaping these high rewards.

PHASE 2: Post-Tartarus Breakout

He’s going to toy with Izuku until Izuku fucking breaks. What follows is his series of actions that instills the desired responses from Midoriya Izuku. Let’s see how the master manipulator plays this game of chess, shall we?

Izuku’s plan: Reach out to villains and try to save them.

AFO’s counter: Kill off those who turn their back against villainy and/or acknowledge Izuku as a true hero.

Izuku’s resulting response: Stop reaching out to villains. Gain an instant victory and move on.

After all, what do you get when you block a hero from showing sympathy? You get an unfeeling living weapon.

---

Izuku’s plan: Work with the top pro heroes to bring down AFO.

AFO’s counter: Make plans that will serve to highlight how the top pros are just slowing Izuku down. (e.g. Making moves while it’s raining, so as to divide them, but also to bring out No. 1 Hero Endeavor’s "slowness" in the rain. Nope, I don’t think that’s a throwaway line at all.)

Izuku’s resulting response: Grows more reckless, often leading the charge.

---

Izuku’s plan: Track AFO down.

AFO’s counter: Lead them to dead-ends. Or when they do supposedly reach something, endanger them.

Izuku’s resulting response: His tunnel vision worsens, as he grows more desperate.

---

Izuku’s plan: All Might following him around is okay since it would help All Might from worrying so much, and Izuku could simultaneously keep an eye on and protect All Might.

AFO’s counters: There are a lot to really fuck with this bond, damn you AFO.

Taint that passing the torch memory of ‘You’re Next.’

Declare that All Might no longer interests him. Liar. He outright stated before that he’s one for keeping a grudge

Send another assassin to Izuku [Underlying Message: You yourself are a walking danger zone to those whom you dearly care for.]

Izuku’s resulting response:

Interpret that memory of ‘You’re Next’ as taking up the position of being AFO’s shiny new plaything, and therefore supposedly sparing All Might from the torment (Unfortunately, making Izuku push AM away is just part of the torment ;A;)

Think that AM is no longer in the direct line of fire as long as AFO focuses on Izuku

Finally, push his last line of morale support away, and completely isolate himself.

Btw, I wonder how All Might feels about Izuku using Nana's quirk to get away from him.

---

The suffering doesn’t end.

Izuku’s plan: Save people.

AFO’s counters: (possibly offscreen) Send more villains and assassins to torment Izuku some more with the knowledge that he can’t save them. Sending villains out also puts innocents in danger.

Izuku’s resulting response: He won’t stop for anything. He won’t sleep, won’t eat, won’t slow down. He will always do his best to save as long as someone is in danger.

His body will keep on moving and moving and MOVING on its own.

--- All For One is very effective as a supervillain. He has managed to make the heroes think that his only goal is to capture Izuku alive for his quirk. He has Izuku right where he wants him: dancing to his tune at the palm of his hand, utterly toyed with, left with no escape in sight.

Psychologically vaulted.

PHASE 3

And so, if Izuku is being manipulated to drive himself further and further into self-destruction, what then is there left for All For One to do?

So much more. Because, my god, I think AFO has mastered the art of traumatizing the OFA Holders.

All For One once told All Might, “I will destroy all that you’ve protected.” And boy, is he delivering. He's definitely not done with AM btw.

First, he destroys All Might's image. And he is manipulating Izuku to drive himself to that point. To looking into his absolute worst.

And when that point arrives, AFO will hammer the final nail home.

Something like...

BEHOLD

JAPAN’S SYMBOL OF PEACE.

And oh, how it'll hurt. To see All Might's pride and joy be flaunted about as looking nothing like a hero to the masses, for him to be so utterly humiliated.

"See what I did to All Might's successor."

AFO will be banking upon the possibility that the angry masses will not want to be saved by whom they're tricked into viewing as someone that's the cause of all the pain. Izuku might have the willpower to stay true to his resolve, but with him on the verge of total breakdown, what would happen when he is shunned by the very people he is trying to help?

I once wrote a post about how the current events seem to be a bastardization of Izuku's wildest fantasies: he's working with the top pros, he has the most powerful quirk, and he's working with All Might (whom technically acts as a sidekick to him rn).

AFO has warped all that into a never-ending nightmare. And Izuku...

Izuku is really in need of saving.

Last thoughts:

Let me just say that it shouldn't be a competition about who gets to get through to Izuku. Right now, he’s gonna need all the help he can get, and it can’t be delivered by only one or two people. Saving Izuku is going to be a team effort, a solid support system that sees Izuku as their classmate/friend/student/actual person that they care about. And there’s sufficient space for that.

More hands reaching out means more chances to catch him if he falls.

#bnha #bnha 317 #bnha manga #bnha analysis #bnha meta #all for one #afo #midoriya izuku #all might #toshinori yagi

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marvelsbanner · 3 years

Text

Part of a Team

Summary: Wanda is the newest Avengers recruit and she’s having a hard time finding her place in this new life- maybe she can find it in you?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x y/n, you

Warnings: Brief mention of death and blood, minor language (if you squint theres kind of compromising situations? nothing outright sexual)

Word Count: ~2700

A/N: Reblogs, likes, and comments are VERY much appreciated, all mistakes are my own! xx

**I don't own marvel and if I did Natasha would be alive**

Something was wrong. You were just in Strucker’s lab- just on the trail of one of the enhanced twins. The alarms were going off around you and your boots clanged on the metal floor- before you froze in your place, a red haze overtaking you and suddenly you were thrown into the daylight.

You felt tingles run through your veins and down your spine; your head throbbed. You felt vulnerable, seen. What the hell is going on-

You’re in the forest, you think. No- there are rocks. Big rocks-

Focus.

No, not rocks. Graves. Gravestones. Where the hell are you?

You drag your heavy feet over to the nearest, it takes a moment for your vision to focus.

Who’s grave? Who’s grave? Oh god. No no no- this, this can’t be-

Natasha Romanoff.

You felt like throwing up. This couldn’t be real. You dragged yourself to another stone situated nearby: Clint Barton. Beloved husband, father, and friend.

It felt like you couldn't breathe, you were just there with them. You were just there.

Your body jerks as cold hands grab your shoulders and spin your body to face them-

Steve.

You throw your arms around his neck, “STEVE! Oh god Steve! You’re okay- you’re.. cold” you feel something wet and sticky on your hand, pulling it back and seeing red. So much red.

“Steve..” you quickly stumble back, tripping in the process. It’s then you see- it’s too late. His body was grey and lifeless. He falls onto his knees and then collapses totally. You scream and scramble backwards, head hitting another gravestone in the process.

You turn to face it, to read another name of one of the team members you’ve come to call family- but it's not one of theirs. It’s yours.

It’s your name. A graveyard for the Avengers, Earth’s mightiest heroes.

Suddenly your body jolts and you take a sharp intake of breath- your ears are pounding. Everything hurts. But you see her- the enhanced. She’s looking at you with a look you can’t describe. It’s not fear, it’s not anger.. Pity? Empathy? You can’t look away from her, the glowing red eyes capturing you as their prey.

And then there was black.

A few weeks later and you’re back at the tower. Things have changed- the entire world has changed, really. The battle opened up new doors- literal new doors to new realms- that the world had previously thought impossible.

The team had expanded, with Steve’s friend Sam joining the team, as well as Vision, the synthezoid that helped the team to defeat Ultron.

There was also her.

Wanda Maximoff was one of the enhanced twins from Strucker’s experiments, you eventually learned. It was voluntary, but after learning about her backstory you think you would have done the same in her place.

She lost her brother- Pietro- in the battle and she took it hard. She didn’t come out of her room when she could help it. Clint was rather protective over her, maybe it was the fatherly figure coming out of him- maybe he was feeling guilt over being the one Pietro sacrificed himself to save. Either way, he was able to get her out of the room a few times and get her to eat. Vision also struck up a strange friendship with the girl- but then again, Vision was easy company, and rather empathetic for a synthezoid.

Everybody took a hit from when Wanda messed with their heads, some more than others.

You didn’t talk for a week.

Didn’t even talk with Clint’s kids when they wanted to play with you.

You didn’t hold it against her. She proved what a valuable asset she was to the team as she fought alongside the group. She did what she thought was right at the time, and that’s not something you could hold against anybody.

Ever since the Battle, Wanda has been staying in the Avengers facilities with the rest of the group, an official Avenger, but you could tell she was still uneasy around the team. She only talked when she was directly talked to and didn't come out of her room but for a few times a day for food and training, sometimes not even then.

And then there was you.

She seemed to avoid you like the plague. You weren’t even sure you two made eye contact for the entire first few weeks she was there.

At first you thought she just didn’t like you, that something about you rubbed her the wrong way, or something you had done had offended her.

But it was her eyes that gave it away- the same soft look that she gave you right after exploring the deepest and darkest parts of your mind that day at Strucker’s lab. She knew from the second it happened that she had hit a deep nerve, and she would continue to give you that damn look every time she thought you didn't notice her.

But you always did.

You couldn’t help it, the way you were drawn to her. She reminded you so much of yourself before joining the team, broken, and alone in your head. You wanted to know her. You wanted to be there for her, be someone to her, you didn’t want her to keep walking on eggshells around you.

And so, you told her.

You found her in the kitchen late one night. She was wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a garnet tank top with a plain gray robe overtop. Her hair was a mess, roughly shoved into a ponytail and her hands were cupped around a mug. She was blowing on what looked to be dandelion tea, and as you got closer the fragrant earthy smell confirmed your suspicions.

She looked adorable.

And slightly startled to find you alone with her.

“Evening” you said as a greeting as you made your way to the counter top.

She gave a tight-lipped half smile with a timid “Hi” before going back to blowing on her tea. She made a slight movement that looked like she was going to try to slip away before you continued,

“You did really well in training the other day. Cap can’t give you enough praise” you say, taking a seat on one of the counter barstools.

She looks puzzled for a moment over your attempt at small talk before getting out a “Thank you.”

You both stood there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, feeling the air grow thicker with each second ticking by.

“I like the pajamas” you say with a small smirk. You yourself were still dressed for the day in your leather jacket and black jeans. You could have sworn you saw flush creep up her neck before she swallowed it down with a sip of her tea.

There was another silent moment as she gave you a quizzical look, “I don’t quite understand what’s happening here.” She says with a vague hand gesture to the space between them.

You gave a slight chuckle, it was very on-brand for Wanda to be straight to the point.

“Look, Wanda,” You rotated your body on the stool to face her more comfortably,

“I see the way you look at me when you think i’m not looking. You avoid me at any given opportunity, I actually think this has been the most words we’ve exchanged in your whole time living here.”

She raised her ducked head to look you in the eyes and gave a small shake to her head, “I don’t understand.”

You don’t break eye contact, but simply offer a small smile as you reply “I’m not afraid of you, Wanda. And I don’t hold anything from that day against you. All is forgiven, and I would like to move past that. I understand you believed everything you were doing was for the right reasons, and the only thing that it shows me is your dedication and loyalty to a greater cause. Even if it was the wrong one at the time.”

She looked shocked, to say the least. Her mouth slightly opening and closing as she pondered what to say in response.

“You all should be afraid of me. You see the chaos I’ve created and you think you know what I can do,” her voice caught before she continued, “But the truth is I don't even know what i'm capable of. I don’t belong here.” she says softly.

You give a sad smile before slipping off of the stool and moving closer to her.

“We all thought that, at one point or another. We’ve got a whole freak circus here, we’ve got more baggage than Delta flies in a year- that's, that's uh, an airline. My bad.” You elaborate after she gives you a puzzled look, holding back a smile at your stuttered explanation.

“Aaand I ruined the moment.” You give a small chuckle, before continuing “But my point still stands. Nobody belongs here more or less than anyone else. We’re all just here, that's the truth of the matter. We’re just a bunch of unlucky misfits trying to figure out how to work as a team. Just give it a try, and maybe you’ll find you fit in better than you imagined you would.”

At some point during your speech you had moved close enough to take her hand, and you look down at it now, blushing before going to move it away.

Before you could, she gives your hand a squeeze before moving in to place a gentle kiss against your cheek.

“Thank you, y/n.”

And with that she slips away to her room, leaving you alone with your racing heart and her lukewarm mug of tea.

The next morning you found yourself awake bright and early for another morning training session with Nat and Steve- but you had a guest this time.

“Wanda” you greeted, which she returned with a timid “Good morning.”

“I’m glad you could make it” you say, sincerely.

“I decided to take your advice.” She replies with the smallest smile pulling at her lips.

The two of you stood there for a moment, just taking each other in before Steve cleared his throat, “Alright, we should get started then. Wanda, I'll spar with you to start. Nat, you take y/n. Try not to kill each other, please.” He said with a humored smile.

You make your way towards the corner with Nat on your heels. She gives you a quizzical look with a raised brow, glancing between you and Wanda. You roll your eyes and shake your head, only responding with a pointed “Later,” before your legs sweep under hers and an arm wraps around her torso, flipping you both to the ground and landing with you on top of her.

“Using my own move against me, that’s a low blow y/n.” You both laugh, and you barely respond with a “I learned from the best” before she wraps a leg around your waist and grabs your wrists with one hand, flipping you over and pinning you to the ground. She winks and replies “Damn right you did.”

It went like that for another half an hour, the two of you going back and forth battling for the upper hand. Natasha was the one who had trained you since the beginning, and you could almost say you were near her equal now. Well, you could at least give her a run for her money in a spar.

The two of you were panting and glistening with sweat, cheeks flushed from the exercise when she gave you a mischievous wink and called out to the other two, “Hey grandpa, I think I’m done getting my ass kicked by y/n for the day. I want someone easy, come spar with me”

If looks could kill, the look you were giving her would have the assassin dead on the floor.

Steve only looked amused, grabbing a towel to wipe his own sweat as he responded “Bring it on, Romanoff. Try not to break anything, though. I’ve been told they want my bones for the Smithsonian” Nat rolled her eyes and gave a pointedly fake laugh before they made their way to the other side of the gym, leaving you and Wanda alone.

“Hi” you greeted. She responded with a small smile and a “Hi” in return.

She looked as though she were still catching her breath, the rise and fall of her chest was noticeably fast and her face was still adorned with a glisten of sweat and pretty pink flush.

The same flush you saw from her last night, standing in the kitchen with the dim light around her.

Oh God you were in deep now.

“Nat and I were just wrestling around, hand to hand combat kind of stuff, but I see you and Steve were boxing so it's up to you what you’d like to do.” you say quickly.

“Well.. I do have this,” She waves her hand to show her flicker of red powers “for missions, so I don’t think I really need that kind of training.” She says with a smirk, “But I admit, you seem like a good teacher. Maybe.. some basics?”

She was pushing it. Pushing at this, the same way you were pushing last night. Alright, maybe you could run with this.

You give her a teasing smile, “Alright then. We’ll start slowly. May I?” You ask, reaching out for her, but not quite touching.

“By all means” she says, and you can feel the familiar flush creeping up your neck again. You release a puff of breath and shake yourself out of your thoughts before stepping closer to Wanda, and in one fluid motion you had one leg behind hers, your left arm resting against her upper chest and your other at the small of her back, pushing her flush against yourself.

You could hear the small gasp she let out, smirking to yourself.

“This is a simple take down, easy to get out of, but good for beginning. Now i'm just gonna pull you down as slowly as I can-”

You bring her left leg out from under her and carefully let the two of you sink to the floor, leaving you straddled on top of her and pinning her arms to the ground. The air suddenly felt a lot warmer.

You meet her eyes, breath hitching as you feel her pulse quicken beneath your touch.

You clear your throat and begin again, “Like I said before, it’s easy to get out of, but you want to keep the element of surprise. Use your opponent's body weight against them, if you can twist your wrist to slip it out of their grip and use your hips to to flip-”

Before you could even finish she had you pinned beneath her, wind knocked out of you from the impact.

“Like that?” she said, looking down at you through hooded eyes, thick accent teasing- flirting?

You were suddenly very aware of your close proximity and compromising position- flush against each other with her hips straddling your waist; close enough to feel her rapid heartbeat.

“Yeah- that was- that was good” you sputtered out, barely able to hear yourself over the rapid beating of your own heart. Or maybe it was hers- you aren't sure you could tell the difference between up and down right now.

She gave a proud smirk and opened her mouth to say something before a certain synthezoid floated through the gym walls, clueless to the moment he was interrupting.

“Mr. Stark requests a team meeting and would like you to meet him in the conference room.” He said simply before turning and leaving through the wall again.

Wanda gave you a look that seemed to say we’ll finish this later and moved off of you. You missed the heat of her body immediately.

She offered you a hand up and you gladly took it, the two of you walking side by side in silence to the meeting, shoulders bumping and small smiles shared between you two as you think to yourself that maybe you could get used to this.

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rowanaelinn · 2 years

Note

A prompt- “Hold this for me.” “But this is a baby?” “I know what it is. I didn’t ask you to identify it.”

“Aelin!” Her mother cries, her smile huge, as she hugged her daughter. They hadn’t seen each other in months, almost two years.

Aelin loved her family, she really did, and being away from them for twenty-two long months was a true hardship, but it had also resulted in the best moments of her life. Ever since she was little, she had loved to travel, so, after finishing long years of college, Aelin had decided to not go to work directly and instead decided to travel the whole world.

The southern continent, Wendlyn, Adarlan… She had done them all and had enjoyed her time in these countries immensely.

But now that she was in her mom’s arms, Aelin was not ashamed to say she had missed home. “Look at you!” Her mom said, tears in her eyes, as she held her daughter’s face between her hands. “You’re so tan.”

Aelin rolled her eyes and didn’t have time to answer because she was corned into another hug by her dad who walked down the stairs. “I missed you, Fireheart.” He told her, a small laugh in his voice.

“Dad, I can’t breathe,” she tapped on his arm for him to let her go, she laughed as he did and said, “I missed you, too.”

Evalin was looking at them, both hands covering her wide open mouth, before forcing yet another hug on Aelin, this time with both her parents. She let go of the tough act and just relished in her parents’ embrace. “Okay, come in,” Evalin said after letting go.

Aelin put her baggage on the side of the door, she’d put her things away later. The house hadn’t changed at all in all these months and it was quite surprising from Evalin-Likes-To-Change-Everything-All-The-Time. They might have just needed some sense of familiarity when Aelin left.

The living room was plunged into the dark, which was also surprising because her parents were in the house before Aelin arrived but maybe they just weren’t in this room. Aelin’s suspicions were quickly proved wrong as the light switched on and dozens of people screamed “SURPRISE!”

Aelin backed down as she took in the banner that read "Welcome Home, Aelin!" hung from the ceiling. She didn't have time to take in any more information before two people jumped out at her. She didn't need to see them to know that they were her two best friends, Elide and Lysandra. Their squeals of delight were quite informative.

Aelin closed her arms around them as they hugged, closer than Aelin ever remembered them being. By now, Aelin was crying. When they pulled back, Aelin tried to wipe the tears away but it was useless, and she wasn’t even the only one crying. “We missed you so much,” Elide said.

Aelin wanted to say she missed them too but a deep male voice talked before she could, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, we know. Let me hug my cousin, now.” Aedion said and in seconds, Aelin jumped in his arms and lept crying.

Turn by turn, Aelin hugged every single one of her friends. Starting with Dorian and Chaol, then Nehemia. Then it was the Moonbeam twins, she even hugged Lorcan, it had been faster than any other embrace but it still had happened.

When she was done, she turned toward her friends, a few tears still flowing on her cheeks. “Gods, I’m so happy to see you.”

“Wait!” Lysandra stopped her, she and Elide walked toward her, and the sneaky small woman that Elide was covered Aelin’s eyes. “We’d tell you to close your eyes but we don’t trust you.” Aelin wanted to be offended but… They were right. She didn’t know what else they had planned for her but she absolutely wanted to know.

“Okay, ready?” Elide asked.

“Uncover my eyes and show me whatever you want before I stab you with a butter knife.” The threat only made Elide laugh.

Aelin heard footsteps, her other senses way more sharpened by the loss of vision, before she felt a hot breath on her cheek. “Welcome back, menace.”

Aelin’s heart stopped. She’d never forget this voice, no, no, no. This was impossible… “Shut up,” she almost screamed, yanking Elide’s arms away from her face. When her vision came back, Aelin was dumbfounded in front of a smiling Rowan Whitethorn. The same Rowan Whitethorn she had stopped talking two years prior. The same Rowan Whitethorn who had been the very reason why she left and went visiting the whole world.

He was here, smiling as if they were on speaking terms. Aelin didn’t hesitate before jumping in his arms, not caring at all it wasn’t proper to do so with a married man. “What the hell are you doing here?” She asked when he put her back on her feet after hugging her for ten good seconds, ten seconds that had felt both too long and too short, ten seconds that seemed to have brought her back to life.

Rowan shrugged, his smile still present on his face, “I missed my best friend.”

She missed hers too, she missed him so much. She had believed that after missing his wedding two years ago he would never want to speak with her, she had believed so until a few minutes before. Aelin couldn’t believe it. She turned toward her friends, Lysandra and Elide pretended to speak together, and not listen to Aelin and Rowan but she saw their wink. Everyone else was in a conversation, letting some sort of privacy to Aelin and Rowan. The only ones shamelessly looking at them were Aelin’s parents, Aelin knew her mother must be delighted. She had always been of the team you should call Rowan and talk with him and Aelin had hated her for it. In the end, Evalin Ashryver Galahynius always got what she wanted.

“We need to talk,” Rowan said, snapping Aelin out of her thoughts. She turned around to the face she loved so much, too much. Too much to be just a friend. Aelin could still feel the pain she had felt when he told her he was getting married and she had to pretend to be happy for him. Aelin wished she hadn’t realized that day but she did. She had realized she loved Rowan the moment he belonged to someone else.

“I know.” She said, looking around at her friends. They were all drinking, gods she wanted to do that, too. “Right now?”

Rowan shook his head, smiling a little, “Nah, enjoy your party.”

Aelin’s smile grew, she wanted to tell him so much, to apologize for ditching him on his wedding day, to explain why, but she couldn’t. Rowan looked at her fondly but turned his head brusquely toward the phone he held in his right hand. “Shit,” he swore. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

He didn’t wait for her to say anything before leaving, and Aelin suddenly didn’t care about the party, she wanted to know what was happening, so she followed him. She had always been nosy as hell, and for now, it wouldn’t change, so she didn’t have any remorse following him up the stairs.

She wondered what Rowan could be doing up the stairs in her house, but when Rowan opened the door and she heard the loud cries, she felt like she knew. Rowan had let the door open behind him, he had probably heard her following him. When Aelin entered what used to be her bedroom, she saw Rowan bent over a bed. A baby bed. “Sh, baby, I’m here,” he gently said, much softer than Aelin had ever heard him speak. She was stuck behind him as he tried to stop the baby’s cries. Her mood entirely dropped, her limbs starting to shake. “Seriously, Helia? I thought we said no more wet beds?” She was sure he was supposed to sound mad but he didn’t, not at all.

He took the baby in his arms and turned to Aelin, walking the two steps between them, “Can you hold her for me? I need to change the sheets.”

Aelin swallowed, her eyes wide as she took in the baby in front of her. She’d give the little girl more than a year, her big green eyes were scrutinizing Aelin, and if there were any doubts before, there wasn’t anymore. “But… This is a baby.”

Rowan snorted, holding the little girl to Aelin but she couldn’t move, her arms felt like they were permanently stuck on the sides of her body. “I know what this is. I didn’t ask you to identify it,” he teased her.

Aelin tore her eyes away from Helia to look at Rowan who had a hint of humor on his face, he really did try to call in a truce between them, “You have a baby.” Aelin said it like a fact when it was more of a question.

“Of course I-” He stopped himself, realization hitting him. He drew back his daughter closer to him, holding her on his side. “They didn’t tell you.”

“They?”

Rowan swallowed and looked everywhere but at her, “Everyone.”

All her friends, he meant. Even her parents. Aelin tasted the betrayal on her tongue. She knew Rowan was the thing nobody talked to her about, if she was sure they all suspected her feelings for him, she knew for sure that Elide and Lysandra knew since they were the ones Aelin had cried to for hours while Rowan got freaking married. “No, nobody told me a thing.”

Aelin could see the moment Rowan build his guard back up, he turned a little, his daughter a little farther away from her, as if he wasn’t only protecting himself from her but also the baby. And this, the way he expected her to react, hurt her more than the fact he had a child. Their friendship had been torn apart, and for minutes she had been lured into thinking things could get better but she was wrong. He expected her to yell and scream in front of a goddamn child as if she didn’t have self-restraint.

“I need air,’ was all she said before she quickly walked down the stairs, and instead of going back to her party, she quietly closed the door behind her, took her car, and drove, her vision blurred by the tears. She didn’t know where she was going but she knew she didn’t want to be anywhere near her friends, family, or Rowan.

————

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @themoonthestarsthesuriel // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy y // @hellasblessed // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee // @acreativelydifferentlove // @cretaceous-therapod // @louphantomdragon // @miss-lil-red // @backtobl4ck // @whoever-you-choose-to-love

#Rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction #angst #if you expected fluff i'm sorry

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

favorite crime

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood / death, lots n lots of angst

summary: you convince peter to go on the run after he’s framed for murdering mysterio, but he doesn’t want to drag you into his mess

a/n: this was completely based off the song by olivia lfmbsjfhs it’s so beautiful and i’ve wanted to write something for it for a while now so yee i hope y’all like ! pls lmk what you think <3

“we have to get you out of here, peter! come on!” you shout back to your boyfriend and tug his hand that’s laced with yours.

peter doesn’t budge. even when your grip on him tightens, when you pull him forward with all your might, he remains stoic.

there’s something he needs to do, and he’s been contemplating it since the day he met you.

it’s time to let you go.

“please, peter. i’m begging. i know you’re tired of running, but if we don’t leave now… they’ll find you,” you desperately choke out. peter squeezes his eyes shut, dreading what’s to come. “i can’t do this to you anymore, y/n. i… i’m sorry.”

emergency sirens and flashing lights approach the old apartment building serving as yours and peter’s latest hideout. the whole world is on the lookout for him, so you two stowed yourselves away in brooklyn for a bit.

you were hopeful the rumors would pass eventually — about how peter shot the beloved mysterio and left him to die in cold blood. they’re merely talk, of course. you’d personally seen the events of that day unfold on the tower bridge. hell, your class was right at the center of them.

quentin beck was pure evil, so rotten he defamed both peter and spider-man with a charge as cruel as murder. he’s wreaking havoc on him from beyond the grave, over a complete misunderstanding that peter had nothing to do with.

beck’s true source of anger is stark industries. yet, once again, peter ended up the collateral damage.

he was deemed a wanted murderer. posters revealing his name and face were plastered up around the city, a reward even being offered to whoever who turns him in.

you’d proposed the idea of skipping town until things settled. the way you saw it, it was peter’s only option other than prison for twenty-five to life. peter was panicking and couldn’t think straight, so he went along with your getaway plan.

a few weeks later, he’s regretting it.

you’ve been the one person he could trust through this madness. you’re right there to console him, to protect him just like he does you. through sickness and health, life and clearly death, you stick by peter’s side. you left everything behind without a second thought, for him.

peter loves you more than you’ll ever fully be able to comprehend, which is why he can’t ask you to do that. this is his battle to fight, not yours or anyone else’s. his.

you suddenly freeze in your tracks, turning around to look at peter. “what are you talking about? you’re fine, pete.”

his eyes roam everywhere except to yours as they water. blinking back tears, he fixes his gaze on your intertwined hands. you notice a stray tear fall down his cheek and use one of your thumbs to wipe it away, then press a reassuring kiss to his lips. peter lets himself reciprocate momentarily before jerking back.

“please just… stop being so nice to me. you’re making this way harder than i wanted to to be,” he rasps and squeezes your hand tighter. you’re still lost, absolutely clueless about what he’s referring to.

“look, pete. i wanna hear you out, baby. but… i think it should wait until we get to jersey.” you keep your voice as calm as possible, though you’re terrified for both of you. since the feds know your location, they’ll have the place surrounded any minute.

hopping cities isn’t cutting it anymore, so you’ll have to change states this time. new jersey is next on your list.

using his strength to his advantage to hold you in place, peter seizes both your shoulders. his bloodshot eyes lock with yours. a stern expression coats his features, one you’ve seen from him yet never been on the receiving end of.

“we’re not going to jersey, y/n/n,” he declares, the sirens starting to grow louder. you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “we have to!” you immediately protest. “it’s not gonna be easy finding our way, but it’s the last-“

peter cuts you off, voice softer now. “no, no. that’s not what i meant.” he waits a beat and inhales a deep breath, aiming to settle his nerves. it doesn’t.

“i’m going to jersey. you’re staying.”

tears cloud your vision the second those words leave his mouth. you shake your head furiously back and forth, willing him to take them back.

part of you was always afraid peter would get second thoughts. not only about running away with you, about ever being with you. you’re both so young. your entire lives are ahead of you, and peter won’t allow you to risk your own because this isn’t worth a single bit of it.

he’d warned you how dangerous it was to be associated with spider-man. it’s why he held off on telling you about his alias for the longest he could. you naturally began asking questions whenever peter bailed on dates and showed up to school covered in bruises. he hated lying to you, using his stark internship as an excuse, so he finally came out and said it.

peter sometimes wonders if you’d be better off not knowing at all. it’s too late now, though.

“wait, what? why- why can’t i go with you?” you plead, peter’s fingers coming up to cup your cheek. his fingertips lightly caress your skin. “i’m a criminal, y/n. you’d be my accessory.”

it takes everything in him not to break down and sob along with you.

you lean into his palm, already missing his touch. “i don’t care... i don’t give a fuck. i just wanna be with you, peter.” peter literally has to bite his tongue to fight the urge to cry. hands grabbing either side of his head, your fingers twist in his hair roughly. “i’ll do anything, pete. i really will, i swear. name it.”

peter threads his own fingers through yours again, bringing your hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i never should’ve gotten you involved,” he murmurs out and pecks your forehead. “you have nothing to prove to me, okay? you’ve done more than enough. i’m gonna return the favor.”

you let out a strangled whine, your knees buckling as you come to terms with the gravity of your situation.

this is it. this is the end of yours and peter’s story.

“hey, none of that. it’s okay,” peter coos, neither of you convinced. the tastes of salt and metal flood both your senses. he helps you back up and hugs your waist, peppering your cheeks in more kisses. you’re bawling now, arms wound around his neck, clutching at his tattered jacket.

free tears escape peter’s eyes at last. “i love you. i love you so goddamn much, y/n. never forget it,” he nearly whispers. you sniffle and push your forehead against his. “i’m not saying it back ‘cuz that feels like a goodbye, and i- i can’t say goodbye to you yet.”

“it’s not a goodbye,” peter reassures you, rubbing circles on your lower back. “it’s, uh, it’s a see you later. i’m gonna figure something out and be back to you before you know it. can’t get rid of me that easy.”

that earns a faint giggle from you, peter managing a grin. you two attempt to ignore everything happening beyond these walls, only focusing on the other.

“then, um…” you clear your throat. “i love you.” his smile dwindling slightly, peter nods and meets your gaze. “i love you too, baby. you should probably get going soon.”

affirming his advice, a booming voice that sounds from a microphone commands peter to come out with his hands up.

your worry spikes, instinctively drawing peter in closer. he forces himself to put on a brave face for you.

“i’m scared, pete. where… where am i supposed to go?” you rush to ask him. “home, y/n/n. go home,” peter decides, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “just don’t get caught, and you’ll be fine.” carding your fingers in his undone curls, you sigh. “easier said than done, but i’ll try not to.”

you’d never pictured that the sweet boy with a heart too big and brain even bigger, who sings you to sleep even though his voice sucks and spends his last dollar buying you flowers, would be accused of first degree murder. it isn’t true or fucking fair.

what’s worse, he has to bare this storm alone now.

you lift your heavy backpack off the cold ground, slinging it onto your shoulders. peter stares out the window and down at the assembly of swarm troops crowded together.

“are you gonna be okay?” you catch his attention. he snaps back into reality, pulling your hood up so it covers your head. you’re wearing a sweatshirt of his, after having gone through all your own clothes. “i hope so. are you?” peter repeats your question. “i hope so,” you echo.

tying your hoodie strings tight, peter offers a smile. “say hi to may for me. ned and mj, too.” it’s going to be tough to face his family and friends after this. “i will. i’ll let them know you’re alright.” you kiss his cheek, placing a hand on his chest. peter lets your touch distract him from the mess he’s about to be hit with.

“thank you, y/n. i’ll see you soon, baby. you have my word,” he promises, stepping back so you two can go your separate ways.

you watch him with fresh tears threatening to spill.

“i’m gonna hold you to it. be safe, spidey.”

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

Text

Balloons

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Warnings: cursing, arguing, and Clint (since he seems to be a sensitive topic for some of you)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Natasha surprises you with balloons. What do you get for her in return?

A/N: It can get a little confusing, so just for clarification, a single dash (-) indicates a flashback, and three dashes (---) means a skip forward in time. Also, this takes place during the Snap.

“Hey, I’ll be back in a couple of days, okay?” Natasha barely looked up from her computer screen, but she heard your murmurs, going so far as to lean into your touch as you pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

If you didn’t love her, you would’ve scrunched your nose, judged her for what must’ve been days without taking a shower. Instead, your brow furrowed slightly as you leaned over her, allowing your arms to drape over her torso, your hands clasping together at the center of her chest.

“Take care of yourself, okay? No more peanut butter sandwiches.” That elicited a groan from your wife. Her eyes remained on the monitor in front of her, but she still sunk into your embrace, her body almost on autopilot once she felt the familiar contact. “Promise me, Nat. I’ve left enough meals for the next two weeks in the fridge. All you have to do is microwave them.” A low sound left her mouth—maybe it was an “okay” or an “alright,” you really couldn’t tell—but you knew that was all you were getting from her at the moment. So, with a sigh, you brushed a quick kiss to her cheek and pushed yourself to stand straight.

“I love you, Nat.” It was only then that she turned around, finally allowing you to see the sparkle in her eyes that, more so now than ever, she reserved only for you.

“I love you too, malysh. Be safe. And call me if you need anything.”

“So you’re saying I can call and ask for you?” The redhead chuckled, leaning out of her chair to grab you by the hands. Once you were standing in between her legs, one of her hands trailed up to your cheek before pulling you down to kiss her.

“Anytime, malyshka, anytime,” she murmured, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, yeah?” Natasha nodded at you. The last thing you saw as you walked out the door was her characteristic smirk, the sly wave of her slender fingers, and the way her body was slumped against the chair, another sign that betrayed just how long she had gone without sleep. You had to succeed at this, for her.

---

It was pouring when you found him. You don’t think you would’ve seen him if it weren’t for the neon signs, their reflections against the growing number of puddles lighting up the street. But you didn’t need to see him to find him; the yelling and clashing of swords were enough to tell you where he was.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was gruff. It was clear he didn’t want to see you.

“I’m here to bring someone back.” He had yet to turn around, and yet you could still hear him scoff despite his turned back and the patter of rain.

“Then keep looking.” You rolled your eyes before clearing your throat and straightening up. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to see your growing assertion, but you’d make sure he heard it.

“I’m here to bring you back.”

“Don’t you have a wife to be getting back to?�� You almost flinched at his words.

“How funny, I wasn’t sure if you even knew we got married.” Yes, Clint was your friend, but you didn’t forget the way Nat’s eyes shined with hurt when she looked in the crowd at her wedding and noticed that her best friend wasn’t there. It was just another thing that made her doubt what she was doing, wonder if she was a monster for moving on while everyone else suffered. You almost lost her that day, having to get Steve to pause the ceremony as you took her off to the side, desperate to make her stay.

“Nat, every day I wake up I think of all the people that we lost, just like that. But you’re still here, and I can’t lose you too. And if wanting to hold onto the one good thing I have left in the world makes me a monster, then-” She had pulled you close, kissed you through the tears that ran down her cheeks.

“You could never be a monster, my love.” Your foreheads pressed together as she whispered, allowing you to see the crystal droplets, physical evidence of the internal struggle she felt every day.

“And neither can you. Marry me?” She simply nodded, and you thought you couldn’t have been happier, more relieved.

But she proved you wrong only minutes later when she read her vows out to you, her eyes only leaving the crumpled paper to look at you, to make sure you were still there, as she tried to make her true feelings known. Her voice was nothing more than a whisper—you were sure you were the only one who could hear her, but that was more than okay with you—as she told you, “You told me I’m the only good thing you have left in the world, but you are my world. If I lose you, I’ve lost the world. It doesn’t matter how many other planets there are, how many galaxies exist outside of our own. There’s nothing after you.”

You pulled her into a searing kiss, not caring that Steve had yet to tell you to kiss your bride.

You were married. You were hers, and she was yours.

And he missed it. Clint missed one of the most important days in his best friend’s life. He still hadn’t responded when you spoke up again. You were bringing him back no matter what. Because she needed you to.

You got him to come back with you. You honestly weren’t too sure how you’d done it; maybe he was just too tired to argue anymore. But it didn’t matter because the two of you were getting in a Quinjet and going back to Natasha.

It took less than twenty minutes for you guys to be off in the air. You set the aircraft on autopilot and left the seat, heading back to put away your things.

“I will admit, I thought we’d be moving a little faster.” Your head cocked to the side at Clint’s words, not quite understanding what he meant.

“Trust me, we’re going as fast as we can. We should be there in a couple of hours.” You were almost out of earshot when he spoke again, but his words caught your attention as if he had screamed them at you.

“What’d you get her for the anniversary?”

“Wha- what do you mean? What’s today’s date?” And as Clint sighed with a shake of his head, you felt your heart sinking in your chest. He didn’t need to answer. You thought back to yesterday’s phone call and you knew exactly where you’d messed up.

“Hello? Nat? What are you doing awake? It’s late, you should be asleep.” There was a pause over the phone, and at first, you thought she’d hung up.

“I, um, I just wanted to check in on you.” It wasn’t so much the fact that she called or her words as it was her dejected tone that grabbed your attention, immediately made you concerned.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need me to come back?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she quickly reassured you. “Just… you sure you’re not forgetting anything?” You scanned the supplies you’d laid out on the dresser. A weapon or two, a couple of toiletries, only the necessities. But nothing was missing.

“No, I think I have everything. Why? Did you see something at home?” Another pause. And, still, you chalked it up to bad connection, or maybe the fact that it was late for her, she must’ve been tired.

“No, you didn’t leave anything at home.” You took one last glance at your things before nodding and launching into your plan for how you were going to get Clint back. She wasn’t as excited as you thought she would’ve been, but you never caught it. Even when you ended the call and all she gave you was a quiet goodbye, you never caught it.

You entered the compound with a crash, scrambling to find Natasha. It was nighttime when you got back, the lights automatically turning on one by one as you ran through each of the rooms, each of them full of furniture but devoid of life.

First, you reached the kitchen. Natasha hadn’t put away the candles, the wicks drowning in wax as if nobody had bothered to blow them out. One plate of food—which was much fancier than any of the meals you had left for Nat in the fridge—lay untouched on the counter, and you knew that, if you dared to open the fridge, there’d be another plate waiting for you.

Next, you made your way into the living room. A vase of roses sat on the coffee table, but one of them was already wilted, a petal threatening to fall off if you so much as looked at it for too long. A small bunch of heart balloons hovered in the corner. The shadows fell on them in just the right way it seemed, with them looking more like they were threatening to chase after you rather than welcome you home.

You went to your bedroom next. You doubted she would’ve been in there, but some small part of you hoped that you and Clint were wrong; you hadn’t actually missed anything, and Natasha somehow pulled herself away from her work to grab a few hours of sleep. But it wasn’t your wife on the bed. Instead, an unfamiliar yet friendly-looking teddy bear sat on the comforter, the card next to it standing upright. And though every part of you yelled at you not to open it, you did.

It was storebought, but that wasn’t what affected you. What finally broke the dam, made the tears stream down your cheeks, was the brief message she’d written on the inside.

“I know I haven’t been the best wife lately, but you are still my world. The sun, moon, stars, it’s all you, malyshka. It always will be. Happy anniversary.”

It was only then that you set off for the one place you were sure Natasha would be.

---

The smell hit you before you even entered her office. Then, you heard the somewhat incoherent grumbles, each word charged with more anger and sorrow than the last. And so it was more to your horror than surprise when you found her still at her desk, her head in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other.

“Natty…” A flash of red filled your vision as her head whipped up to see you, but you weren’t sure if the color came from her cheeks or her hair.

“Oh, so you still remember my name?”

“Natty, please, I’m so sorry. I was so hun-” At first, your wife seemed slightly surprised, as if she wasn’t expecting you to apologize. Or maybe she wasn’t expecting you to know what you were apologizing for.

“Don’t you dare call me that right now, Y/N.” If her order didn’t sting, her use of your actual name definitely did. But you pushed away those feelings; right now, it was about her, the way it should’ve been about her yesterday.

“Natasha, let me explain. I was so focused on Clint, on the things we had to get done here. The dates really meant nothing to me.” Her flinches were delayed, slightly sluggish, but they nevertheless hurt to see.

“So the date of our wedding means nothing to you? I got you balloons, Y/N, I got you fucking balloons.” You flinched, but it wasn’t at the sound of the vodka bottle slamming down on the desk or at her words. It was at the words she’d told you on your six month anniversary of dating, the day she’d surprised you with a dinner at a three Michelin star restaurant and a night in a five-star hotel, a luxury you’d never experienced before and never thought you’d have in your life, let alone while you were on the run from the US federal government. But, you’d had to remind yourself as Natasha pulled you into the hotel room with a giggle, this was the world’s best spy you were dating. Of course, if anyone was capable of pulling this off, it was her.

“What are those?” you’d gasped, the glint of the dim lamplight on the mylar catching your attention.

“I got you balloons,” she’d chuckled as she pulled you into her embrace. “I love you so fucking much that I got you balloons. God, I’m such a sap.” You met her lips in a sweet kiss before pulling her closer, if that was even possible.

“You’re my sap.” Nat pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth, loving the way it curved upwards in a grin. Loving the fact that she made it do that.

“Well, duh, you think I’m going to go out and get balloons for Tony?” You simply giggled, the champagne the two of you had enjoyed earlier that evening only strengthening the joy that bubbled in you. “No. Never. Only for you, detka.” She had punctuated each sentence with a kiss, each one being on a different spot on your face.

“You got me balloons,” you finally whispered, meeting her eyes.

“I got you balloons,” the blonde agreed. You loved the way the green orbs captured your own gaze; you could bathe in the love they held for you.

But at this moment, you felt yourself drowning in the sorrow filling her eyes, the fact that she wasn’t crying being one piece of dignity you couldn’t maintain no matter how hard you tried.

“Nat,” you slowly stepped closer to her, your footsteps being the only sound filling the room during the pause. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant I barely processed what day it was at all. The only thing I was focusing on was getting Clint back.” A small part of you knew that Natasha was far too hurt and drunk to be reasoned with at the moment, but you still tried. And the rejection hurt just as much as if you hadn’t been expecting it.

“You don’t love me.” You were by her side in an instant, quick to refute her point.

“That’s not true at a-”

“You don’t love me! Just admit it, Y/N. You don’t love me.”

“Natasha, please-” Your vision was so clouded by tears you could barely make out your surroundings, but the anguish on your wife’s face was somehow clearer than it had been all night.

“You only love me when it benefits you! God, how was I so foolish to believe you could ever love me back in the same way I love you?” And though you tried to stop her, pleaded with her to just listen to you for a second, she never even hesitated for a second, the remaining vodka threatening to spill out out of the bottle with how she swung it in the air. Her insecurities from your relationship, the ones you had spent night after night reassuring her of, were coming out in full force, each word thrown out of her mouth being another punch to your gut.

But it was her last sentence that made you almost double over in pain; the way she looked at you, eyes glassy and her lower lip wobbling, the way she spoke, her voice airy and broken, the way her face was contorted, as if something had broken inside of her. Maybe something had.

“Did I really make you feel safe, or did I just help you not to feel alone?”

You knew she was standing outside of your room well before she knocked. Well, you knew someone was standing outside of your room.

Sure, you weren’t expecting the normally-closed off assassin to be the one who entered when you let out a measly “come in,” but you were too wrapped up in your grief to care.

“Wanda made dinner.”

“I don’t want it.” You didn’t have to turn your head to know how she was standing, feet shoulder-width apart and arms crossed over her chest. And maybe, if you cared, you would’ve been scared, but for all you were concerned she could come running full speed at you with widow’s bites in her hand and you wouldn’t even flinch. Maybe you’d welcome it.

“It’s not a negotiation. You’re coming to dinner. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I’m not hungry.” At first, Natasha didn’t respond. You thought you were safe. She’d turn around, close the door behind her, and you’d be alone once again, the way you should’ve been. The way you always should be. But instead, you heard her approaching footsteps and felt the mattress sink as she perched herself on the edge of your bed.

“You deserve to eat, Y/N. Just because you made a mistake-”

“A mistake is forgetting your phone at home, Nat. I got people killed. I deserve to die.” Natasha paused for a moment, and you felt the weight of her hand as she rested it on your ankle.

“You’re not the first of us to do that. Do you think we deserve to die too?” Anger and frustration swelled in your chest at her words. Of course they didn’t deserve to die; how could you agree to that? But she didn’t understand, you were different because you were you.

You hated the way she trapped you with simple logic, wanting to scream and yell for her to get out. But she was the woman of your dreams, so you stayed silent. She’d leave eventually. They all did. Or maybe you just made them leave, who knows?

But she was there 5 minutes later, 10 minutes later, 15. Half an hour passed and she was still sitting there, her posture just as perfect as when she first sat down.

Another half an hour passed before Natasha sighed, the corner of the mattress lifting. But she didn’t leave the room. Instead, she rounded the bed and sat down next to you, hands folded in her lap and her back against the headboard.

“You’re not going to leave?” you finally asked.

“No.”

“Why?” You hated the way it came out cracked and broken. You were the one who messed up; why were you also the one falling apart?

“Because you deserve to be forgiven. And you don’t deserve to be alone. I’ll stay until you realize that.” It amazed you how she said it so matter-of-factly, how she said it as if it was painfully obvious.

“Then it looks like you’re going to be staying the night.”

“Good thing I wore my pajamas.” It wasn’t until she said that that you finally turned around to look at her. Why was she wearing her pajamas?

“You knew I wasn’t coming out.”

“I had a feeling.” Her shrug was nonchalant, but the way she picked at her fingers suggested she was more nervous than she was trying to let on.

“Why are you here, Tasha?”

“Because I care,” was her answer, spoken softly yet firmly, as if she was challenging you to oppose her. But you let her.

You let her slide down, lay her arm over you. You let her lay a kiss on your forehead, hold you while you slept, fend off the screams of the departed so your dreams didn’t turn into nightmares. And just before you finally dozed off, getting the rest you’d been deprived of for days, you murmured something so quiet she could barely hear it. She’d never forget it.

“Ever since I joined the Avengers, I’m always waiting for someone to leave. Someone getting hurt, getting killed. They’ll leave one way or another and I won’t be able to get them back. I’m always on edge. But you make me feel safe, I think.”

“Tasha, you know that’s not true at all. Please,” you tried walking towards her again with one trembling hand outstretched, just to get her to put down the bottle, just to pull her into your arms as you tried to physically show her just how much you really did love her, just to do anything.

She backed away.

It hit you then; you weren’t going to get her back. Not now, at least. Nothing you could say, nothing you could do, could get her to listen to you at this moment.

“Just leave me alone,” she whispered, as if she could read your mind. You always thought the two of you were connected in some way. Maybe she could tell what you were thinking.

But it seemed the connection stopped there. She couldn’t understand how your feet were glued to the floor, how your heart stopped for the umpteenth time that hour, how your eyes scoured any and every part of her for want of some sign that things would be okay. She gave you nothing but a renewed hardening of her gaze, as if she had just remembered her days as one of the world’s most formidable assassins.

“Fine. I’ll leave.” And just like that, she was gone. It didn’t matter that she almost stumbled over the leg of a chair, or how you got an extra strong whiff of vodka as she passed by. What mattered was that she was gone.

---

Natasha got you balloons, filled you with joy and love as if you were a child at the center of attention during their birthday party. And you, distracted by all the other decorations that surrounded you, had let them go, the strings slipping out of your grip and floating to unreachable heights.

You had let her go.

-----

🏷 : @vancityfire13 @007giu

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