#we were all fucking soaked after that but it was also like almost 40° before that so it was really refreshing sjdhjsbd

[circuitdc]

Okay, now that I can collect my thoughts, I can now express how my experience of going to see Tears for Fears live was.

I saw them on Friday. It was my first concert that I actually wanted to go to and it was one hell of a show. I went with my dad whomstve got hooked on the new album because he played the CD in his car nonstop the week before. We were listening to it on the ride to the concert.

First, I should mention that I got the VIP pass where you can go see sound check before the actual concert. But it got delayed for some reason so the group we were with were baking in the hot sun until they called us into the amphitheater. In that time, I met some interesting people who followed the band around the country. There were two older women who were diehard fans. Another woman wore a vest that was comprised of little cards portraying the Songs From the Big chair album cover. She was very quirky but in a fun way. I was chatting with a couple of them and they all seemed impressed that I had so much knowledge of their discography, since I was one of the youngest fans there it seemed. From the Hurting, all the way up to The Tipping Point. The herd of people lost their way and ended up going into a small alleyway while the security was wondering what the hell they were doing. Very strange moment. So we go and find a seat and they were already playing. They advertised on the website that they'd play 2 songs but they really played 4. Long Long Long Time, Break the Man and Everybody Wants to Rule the World and to my extreme surprise and delight, Ladybird. A song they hadn't played live since 2004 when Everybody Loves a Happy Ending was a fresh album. Roland only played portions of it, with a different, more acoustic flare to it. It almost brought tears to my eyes. One guy shouted "Call me Mellow." Wrong song buddy. Fake fan alert!

So after that was done we pretty much waited around, bought some merch. I got a long sleeve golden sun shirt and an album cover shirt and a poster that I threw in my album cover tote bag. We ate overly expensive junk food until it was time to see the show where Garbage opened. From what I heard of their music, I wasn't really a fan of them. But after seeing them live and how they performed and how awesome Shirley Manson is, now I really like them. They went so heavy. She kicked ass that night! We also sang Happy Birthday to Curt!

After that about a 20 minutes before TFF came on, they played over the speakers the whole cover album of Songs from The Big chair by BrotherTiger, which if you haven't heard should totally check him out. That was cool until I looked down and realized that my feet and tote bag were soaked with beer from someone behind me. The true concert experience. Then some middle aged guy with long hair took his seat next time mine, complaining my hair was too long. I said right back at ya buddy. He kinda looked like me in 40 years. Hopefully not.

Finally Tears for Fears took to the stage and started playing their set. I sang every goddamn word throughout the entire concert, my throat was on the verge of dying by the end of it. During Everybody, I ended up dancing with that girl with the vest from earlier. Right after that, we'd sung Happy Birthday to "That guy from Tears for Fears." again, but with more feeling! During Break it Down Again, during the salute, Roland yelled to the people in front of me "Get off you're fucking phones!" Then returns hippie man and ends up knocking over my tote bag into the beer puddle, ruining the poster I just bought. Some of the other paper things survived but the smell of beer filled my car on the way home. Fun times overall.

The last thing to note that I'm both laughing at and pissed off about. When it came time for the last song, Shout. There was always a chance that Roland would pass the microphone to the audience to sing the chorus. I was in second row, but he passed the microphone to the people right in goddamn front of me! Like he was RIGHT THERE! I tried to reach over to at least try to get my voice to be heard, but I was just too far away. That would have absolutely made my night to be so perfect. Ughh!!!

So yeah, TLDR absolutely loved loved loved it. I would totally see them again.

#tears for fears #the tipping point #roland orzabal #curt smith

[ethwastaken]

its rained a lot where i am recently but there hasnt been a good thunderstorm in YEARS i am so jealous of you right now

same oh my god,, it doesn't even rain that much where i live, so this is really fucking nice

#i hope you'll get a really nice thunderstorm soon as well :) #we're camping right now #and yesterday we had this heavy fucking downpour with a lot of wind #and we had to hold down our awning because the poles gave in #we were all fucking soaked after that but it was also like almost 40° before that so it was really refreshing sjdhjsbd #ask #cait :D

[nightowlwriting]

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

[heavywithourbabies]

Emma and Mark 2

The first thing that Mark noticed was off when he woke up is that he couldn’t see anything. He knew he wasn’t suddenly blind, but every time he opened his eyes, his vision was blurred by some sort of thick fabric. He also couldn’t help but notice that his wrists were above his head, and he was clearly restrained against the headboard of the bed. He shook his wrist restraints a bit and felt the cold metal on his skin and the sounds of small chains hitting each other. “Emma” he thought and grinned. Mark was an incredibly heavy sleeper and from time to time, his wife had taken full advantage of that in their bedroom as she often woke early and sometimes needed extra attention. He had to hand it to her though, this time she outdid herself. How in the world his heavily pregnant wife could pull this off without waking him up was the question. He heard the shuffle of bare feet against the floorboards and quickly decided it didn’t matter.

“Emma” he called out, with a knowing grin. “Babe, not to alarm you but I think we’re being robbed by kink thieves.”

“I had such an amazing time with you last night.” Emma’s voice replied. He couldn’t quite place her in the room, but he knew she was close. “You really made the last date night before the baby extra special. I just feel bad I was so tired by the time we got home.”

“Well” mark started as he tried to look in her direction, “You’re almost 40 weeks with a big baby, so it makes sense you get tired.”

“I am 40 weeks as of today.” Emma replied, her voice a bit deeper and sultry.

“Baby, that’s amazing, we should – “  Mark began before he felt his wife’s finger on his lips, hushing him up.

“I’m 40 weeks today, Mark. 40 weeks with our big, healthy baby boy growing in my belly. The baby that you put in there.”

He felt his wife’s tiny hand on his as she slowly took it out of the handcuff, lowered his wrist, and placed his hand directly on her belly. Feeling her belly was one of mark’s favorite things to do. He could never get over how warm it was. How dense and heavy it felt under her soft skin. She rubbed his hand for him over her belly and mark felt the stretchmarks that had grown on his wife. Her skin felt tight and smooth.

“Do you like feeling my big, heavy belly Mark?” She asked, slightly teasing. “Can you feel how tight and full it is? Can you feel the weight of it? Does it turn you on knowing how heavy and full you’ve made me? Knowing there’s a bun in the oven and you’re the one that put it there?”

“yes.” Was all mark could get out in reply. His breath already short.

“Good.” Emma said, and replaced Mark’s hand into the restraint. He felt it close but it wasn’t that tight. Wherever she had gotten them, the handcuffs were cheaply made.

“I want you to feel me” Emma said. “I want you to feel me with your body.”

He felt her two hands close to him on the bed as she leaned over. He could feel the tips of her thick, engorged nipples on his chest and running down his stomach and back up again.

“They ache you know?” Emma said. Mark swallowed hard. “They ache just doing this. My nipples are so sensitive now thanks to you, so thick. My areolas are huge and dark. I can feel the pressure of the milk building in them, making them heavier. So they ache. They ache to be milked. Ache for your baby to suck on them. Ache to do what they were meant to do….”

Suddenly Emma’s hands were on the waistband of his boxer briefs and she easily glided them down his legs. Mark’s cock was getting hard and he felt it twitch in the open air.

“I don’t mind the aching though. To be honest I ache everywhere now that I’m so big and heavy with your baby.” Emma told him as he felt her soft tiny hand take the shaft of his penis and slowly rub up and down on it. He couldn’t help but groan a little. “I know it’s all worth it. All the aches and pains. Feeling heavy and ready to burst. It’s all worth it so we can meet our baby. But it’s also worth it, just to carry my man’s baby in me.” And with that, mark felt the plump lips of his wife taking him in her mouth and she began to slowly bob up and down. Her mouth was warm and wet and he could feel her tongue swirling over the head of his cock, making mark shiver a bit. Emma kept stroking him as he felt her get up on the bed with him. He could hear the bedframe creaking under her weight, as she straddled him. He felt her place his cock on her skin but he couldn’t tell where. He heard her quietly spit in her hand and started to rub it against the top of his dick as he was pressed against her. “I told you I wanted you to feel me baby.” Emma said slyly. ”How does it feel to have your big cock rubbing on my belly?”

“Oh God…” mark let out and he felt his cock throbbing. His wife continued to tease his member along her fecund belly for a few more moments, rubbing him off gently against herself, before she stopped. Mark didn’t know what she was doing but he could feel her moving her cumbersome body up the bed. She had to be standing above him. She took a few awkward steps forward and he could feel her feet on either side of his head.

“My body has become more womanly, no thanks to you.” She said from above him. He heard you grunt a little and the weight above him shifted. A part of her was right above his face now and he could tell. Her musky scent filled his nose and he knew her crotch was right in his face. He could feel slight dripping on his mouth and cheeks. His cock was iron hard. She lowered her legs and got on her knees, the sweet smell of her sex all over his face. “You’ve made me swollen everywhere. Taste how swollen I am for you.” Emma said in a deep husky voice and then fully dropped on his mouth. His nose was buried in the thicket of hair she had grown since she could no longer shave, and her fatty, thick labia lips were open on his mouth before he even began. Mark couldn’t help but rock his hips up and down out of pure desperate need as he began to lick his wife’s soft wet walls. He slowly parted her lips all the way and began with a few long strokes of his tongue, going up and down her entrance, just to taste all of her. Although his hearing was muffled by her strong thighs, he could her his wife moaning in pleasure. She began to rock her hips in time with his lapping. He loved going down on Emma but doing it while she was pregnant was a whole different experience. She really was swollen everywhere and somehow she felt softer. He enjoyed how wet and sticky she became and began licking faster when he felt her juices running down his chin. Emma was letting out a series of short and small little yelps, a sign she was close and mark went in for the kill. He started to run his tongue all over the hood of her engorged clit. Then he would make direct contact with his tongue and run circles and other patterns on her most sensitive spot. Soon he could feel the whole bed rocking back and forth under the weight of his very pregnant wife. Without warning she let out a low pitched moan and came all over his face. He backed off of licking her clit but he kept lapping away at her. In that moment all he wanted was to make her feel good. To thank her for carrying their baby. To worship the place where his baby would be brought into the world. And the deeper more animalistic side of him wanted to drown in her pregnant cunt.

After a moment or two, he felt the bed shift again as his wife struggled to get up. “More” she said in that deep and husky voice she got when she was really turned on. At this point Mark’s penis was achingly hard for her. More than anything he wanted to take her then and there, and feel every inch of her belly and tits but he was still restrained. He rocked his wrists against his restraints and heard a small click. Emma positioned herself over Mark’s painfully erect penis, grunted again and lowered herself down. It was amazing she could still be this graceful being this large but with one swift motion she straddled Mark, feeling her already wide hips ache a little in protest, and guided his penis into her soaking wet vagina.

“Fuck yes!” Mark said and immediately thrusted once into her. Emma put her hands on his chest to signify she was in control and he lowered back down. With that, she began to rock her expanded hips back and forth, feeling the sensation of his engorged cock filling and stretching her. It hurt a little since she was so much tighter now but the feeling of having her husband inside of her made her eyes roll up in the back of her head as she continued. As she rode, she felt heavy and large. Fertile and ripe. She couldn’t move very fast on his cock but her movements were deep and slow. Her meaty pussy swallowing all of his cock greedily. Mark was in heaven as felt the full weight of his wife on top of him. Her heavy belly rubbing against his stomach as she continued to grind on top of him. She put her hands back on mark’s chest to steady herself and started riding faster and harder on him. She felt her belly rock up and down and her heavy tits clapped together almost painfully.

“Yes baby, yes” Mark kept saying over and over again.

“Do you like feeling how heavy I am?” Emma asked in between deep sighs and moans. “You like how swollen and huge you’ve made your wife?”

“Fuck yes.” Was all Mark could reply as she neared towards another orgasm. This one took her completely by surprise. Usually she had to work at cumming but the more pregnant she became, the easier it came upon her. She felt her whole body tense up as it clenched deep inside her core. “I’m… I’m” she stammered as buried her hands into marks chest, almost drawing blood with her nails. The orgasm was going to be big, she could tell. So strong it would probably ache a little. She was right at the precipice when she suddenly felt mark’s hands all over her hips and he thrusted upward into her as strongly as he could and held himself there.

“You’re fucking beautiful “ Mark said and Emma let the waves crash all around her. Her whole body shook as she continued to semi rock on Mark’s penis. Her thighs clenched and unclenched at their own will. She felt this in the deepest part of herself, felt it all throughout her massively pregnant body. She was a fertile, ripe, pregnant queen thanks to her man. And she was going to completely soak him in her thanks. Somehow through the haze of her pleasure, she registered the fact that Mark had somehow gotten loose and taken his blindfold off. How he did it was beyond her at the moment but she didn’t even care.

Somehow, mark was able to lift her and put her down on her back with her legs spread for him. The pressure of all the baby weight immediately hurt her back and made it hard to breathe but she couldn’t care less at the moment. Mark began to drive into her as hard and as fast as he could. Her huge belly, slick with sweat, pressed against his stomach. He grabbed a handful of her pretty brown hair and kept thrusting.

“I fucking love you like this” he said “I want you heavy and swollen with my babies all the time. I especially love this-“ he grabbed either side of her belly. She grabbed on to his arms feeling a smaller orgasm come on and she teased the feeling along. “You love pregnant women? You love a big pregnant wife? Show me. Show me how much you love that belly.” She demanded and started clenching again as the third orgasm hit. Mark quickly pulled out of his warm wife, felt himself throbbing in his hand, and groaned loudly as he erupted all over her massive, stretch marked belly. His whole body went stiff as a board as the sensation grabbed him by the spine. Shooting length after length of his hot cum all over her orb of a belly.

The pair stayed in place for a few moments, both trying to catch their breath. Mark slowly withdrew from the warmth of his wife and looked at the mess he had made of her.

“Oh shit, baby, I’m sorry.” He said.

“Don’t be.” She replied as she started rubbing his seed all over her belly. “I needed to lotion anyways.”

They both erupted in laughter and held each other closely. It wouldn’t be long until their family would expand with another. And not long after that, two more.

#pregnantfetish #pregnancyfetish #pregnanterotica #pregnancyerotica #heavywithmybabies

[mrsbarnes107]

Secret of the Widow

-part eight-

Summary: Post Endgame time period. The team is healing, trying to navigate this new normal they’ve found themselves in when Bucky and Sam bring home a stray with an attitude and a secret. Will the broken team take her in? Or is it too much to bare?

Warnings: language, *eventual* violence and smut, death, fluff, angst

Pairings: Bucky x OC

Disclaimer: this is posted to Wattpad as well and it WILL HAVE PLOT. I’m a Bucky hoe so there will be smut and romancy stuff but this is a series, so plot plot plot and slow burn.

*Bucky POV*

I've finally gotten away from Wilson and his incessant blabbering, and am now making my way to the training room to find Ali.

Ever since she got here, there's been this ache in the back of my mind. It feels a lot like the first time I saw Steve all those years ago. A dull tug, trying to pull something forward.

She knows me. Knows me well apparently. And I feel deep in this little dark corner of myself, that I know her too. She unsettles me immensely, the thought of her risking herself so wantonly with the Winter Soldier, knowing my past and darkness. It's horrible. But shes also comforting. A type of comfort I haven't felt in a long while.

She's a wild card still. Unpredictable. And yet she peaked my curiosity.

I still can't get her teary blue eyes out of my mind. I'm thankful I heard her sneak past my room the night before. Otherwise I never would have followed her to the lab. Never would have seen her pain and loss so openly. Her cries were heartbreaking, sobs wrenched from deep inside.

I understand what it's like to feel utterly alone and confused. And I wish I could take that feeling from her.

Taking a quick left I stop at the door of the training room, hearing music and the dull thud of knife hitting Kevlar.

God help me I can't get the image of her dancing so carefree in my hoodie out of my head either. Walking into the kitchen to that view, well fuck me back to the 40s. A beautiful woman dancing and singing, a home cooked meal on the stove, and a blade twirling between delicate fingers. She's going to give me whiplash. Or death.

This need to protect and cherish her conflicts with the instinct to be wary and set clear distance and it's worse than the cyclone at Coney Island.

I just know this isn't a good idea.

***

*OC POV*

"You're letting go too soon Doll."

FUCKING BLOODY HELL I'm gonna kill this man.

I very much did NOT let out a tiny squeak for the second time today and launch ANOTHER knife straight at Buckys (admittedly handsome) stupid face.

Okay I did.

With a cocky flourish he catches it and give the blade a nice twirl. "See? Too soon. You're aim would be more accurate if you hold off a second or so before releasing. And the blade would slice through the air better. It's catching too much resistance from the angle."

"You have gotta stop sneaking up on me Sarge. Unlike yourself, I'm too young for heart failure."

Bucky sends me a scowl and scoops up the rest of the knives from the target then makes his way over.

"Sweetheart, I may have some years under my belt, but I'm a fully and exceptionally functioning man." I look down to see the tip of a knife gliding up my stomach and to my throat, pausing to move a lock of hair behind my ear.

Suddenly sweaty I clear my throat and swipe a knife from his metal hand. "I'll take your word for it Buckaroo. Now you wanna show me how exceptionally you can teach?"

At that he steps behind me, chest pressed against my back, hard muscle very much evident under his tight shirt. His hand gliding down my arm softly until he wraps his fingers around mine, now holding the knife together.

His (very beefy) leg presses between my thighs, allowing his foot to hook around mine and reposition my leg.

Hell in a handbasket its fucking hot in here. Jeez. My heart is going wild and I know for a fact Bucky can hear it.

His breath ghosts along my neck as he murmurs low against my ear.

"You're quick and underestimated because of your size. Use that more to your advantage and strike like a little viper. Fast and deadly."

He guides my hand as if drawing the knife from my thigh holster, making my hips shift back against his. As our arms make a slow, practiced arc Buckys metal hand squeezes my hip telling me when to release the knife.

With another light squeeze he steps back and nods for me to continue.

This man will undoubtedly be a distraction in the field if I don't get it together.

With a sigh I drop to a knee only to pounce back up in a spin while drawing the blade, letting it sail through the air in complete silence, slicing through it only to come to a halt with a smack that echoed through the room. In the blink of an eye it went from my fingertips to the mannequins skull a good twenty yards away.

He really didn't need an ego boost but damn if he isn't talented.

"Better. Now let's see how you do hand to hand."

I was suddenly back to the mat with a very heavy soldier pinning my body down, knife pressing into the hollow of my throat.

I let out a soft grunt as piercing blue eyes filled with concealed torment and a hint of playfulness met my own. "Well this brings back memories... for me at least."

Using his confused pause as an advantage, I run my foot along the inner seam of his sweatpants as the other slips from between his to hook around his thigh.

A startled grunt escapes open lips and the knife moves a fraction as his hold loosens. With considerable effort I had the hulking soldier underneath my straddling hips, knife now running up his chest, small cuts appearing along his shirt.

Large hands rest on my thighs, squeezing with every dip of the blade as it runs along the ridges of concealed muscle.

"Dirty move Doll."

With a small shrug his shirt gets cut open completely. "It can get dirtier Sarge."

I shift against his hips and his hands clamp down hard, keeping my legs in place, most definitely leaving Bucky shaped bruises.

"Are we ever gonna have that conversation you promised? Cause I feel like I'm missing some important pieces to our story."

"Huh, I thought this was a training session, not a slumber party." With another squirm against his crotch he lets out a low growl and I hop up, tossing the knife into the floor by his head. "Come and get me Barnes."

With that I took off down the hallway, thundering footsteps quickly catching up with mine. Damn super soldier speed.

As his arm wrapped around my waist I let out a giggle and ducked underneath it, landing a blow to his stomach. Which did little more than make him let out a grunt of air as I dropped to swipe his legs from beneath him.

With a roll Bucky jumped back up and caught my arm, spinning me against the wall.

His thigh pressed between mine as his metal hand locked my arms above my head, our chests heaving together despite the minimal effort of the chase.

The forgotten blade appeared in his other hand, the sharp tip trailing down my arm, dipping along the collarbone. Buckys head tilted as my heart beat went double time, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

With a smooth flick of his wrist a bead of blood trailed down my throat, stopping between the swells of my breast, Buckys eyes following the slow path returning to mine darkened and razor focused.

With a glimpse to the lip I trapped between my teeth he cocks his head with a suspicious glare. “Bringing back more memories Sweetheart?”

“I don’t know, is it Sarge?”

Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t get you-

Buckys hips press firmly into my own, his thick thigh shifting higher, now tight against the needy heat between my legs. A very noticeably large and stiff bulge pressed into my hip. How am I not on fire yet?

A small whimper escapes my lips as Bucky trails his mouth and nose along the length of my neck, beard scratching deliciously against heated skin. My hips bucked, wonderful friction meeting my clothed center, a moan escaping with a sigh as I repeated the action.

Bucky growled low in his throat as his hips snapped against mine, leg tensing against my soaked cunt. “I might not remember our past yet Doll, but I remember this feeling. Your warmth. First time I looked into those big blue eyes I knew you were gonna ruin me. Had no idea who you were, but fuck it all I knew you somehow.”

With a slight tug he released my arms, hands falling to my waist, tracing a path along my body.

I rested my palm against his heart, as the other cupped his cheek. Thumb tracing his red lips I looked into lust blown confused eyes. “Maybe one day you’ll remember our story, until then I’ll remember for the both of us.”

A rough thumb brushes over a hard nipple as his hips start to rock steadily into my own. A small moan escapes as my fingers tangle in Buckys thick hair. His mouth once again finding my neck, this time leaving hot kisses. His tongue traced along my ear, teeth nipping along the skin until he reached the spot on my neck that made me keen.

His lips kissed a smile into my skin as he sucked it into his mouth, leaving his mark on my body. My greedy hand began to make its way to the band of his sweats as he-

“Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Barnes, the team needs you in the conference room immediately.” Friday said from above us, damn near giving me a heart attack.

Cockblock. “Fucking hell.” I mutter as my head tilts back to rest against the wall, Buckys hot breath puffing against my chest from where his face is pressed into my shoulder. I run my fingers through his hair for a moment, relishing his warmth after so long being cold.

Bucky pressed a kiss to my collarbone as I clear my throat. “Well, duty calls soldier.”

As he backs away and releases my body, I rock onto my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before swiftly walking to the conference room.

I’m almost certain these shorts are ruined. My sanity is not far off either.

#avengers #avengers fic #black widow #bucky barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #captain america #endgame #marvel #spiderman #sebastian stan #knife kink #winter solder #iron man #tony stark #steve rogers #tfatws #bucky x oc #bucky x reader #wanda maximoff

[mx-barnes]

Drowning

(Stronger than All Other Loves/S.A.O.L)

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Maybe not everyone is cut out for love. You have had a pretty shitty life. First, you are “gifted” to Hydra by the asshole you had been calling mom and dad for nearly 12 years. Then you get turned into one deadly assassin which put Steve Rogers newly made captain of the Howling Commando’s on your trail and when he finally finds you his government then put you on ice for 70 years plus. After that, you have a stint with Tony Stark the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist which leaves you heartbroken and unwilling to try love again until you bump into Bucky Barnes. Will you be able to let him in or will you try and stop this too?

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: mentions of suicide/death, almost drowning to death, heartbreak, mentions of HYDRA, neglectful parents, HYDRA using reader as a weapon, Steve being sent to capture reader and bring them to the government, reader being put on ice, Swearing, Tony kinda being an ass I guess, mentions of reader past relationship with Tony

A/n: Ok so this is a story I started writing on my Wattpad and I decided to transfer it over here too. This is just going to be a short short miniseries. Everything is planned (wow I actually planned something for once). If this series goes over well I have an idea for a prequel where it is Stucky x reader. I don't want to put time into it if you guys don't like this one. Likes and reblog welcome. Also I am working on pt. 2 for Time will Tell.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Dying is a natural part of life. Whether it be accidental, old age, murder, or suicide, it is normal. Death is something we must all face. Some people face it every day. Every day when their soul is crushed and killed. Suppressing the feelings that they feel for someone because they can't truly express them.

A jolt upwards and a shout, "Y/N!" sending water sputtering out your lungs.

The crushing pain you once felt in your chest is gone. Not entirely, but mostly. The heartache that was there before is still there, but the pressure around your body has lifted. Making it easier to breathe.

"What's up?" smiling softly you look up into the eyes of the person who has just pulled you from the lake. The greenish-blue eyes looking down at you. The dirty blonde hair falling against his forehead is soaking wet. A suppressed smile emerges onto his face.

"Well you just about died-"

"Steve I didn't almost die your overreacting I'm fine." Bouncing a yellow orb of energy across your fingers you sit up. "See completely fine," you say as it flickers out.

"You almost drown Y/n. You are most certainly not fine. I'm taking you to see Bruce."

"Steveeeeeeeeeee-"

"No arguments."

Steve was overprotective, to say the least. You never understood why. He was never like this with the others. He cared about you obviously but it seemed fickle to think it was anything other than him not wanting to lose his best friend at least that's what he told you. He was a simple and kind man you saw no reason not to trust his word. He cared for you everyone bugged you but it didn't seem to bother you much. He was a great friend everyone else thought there was something more going on with you two, but it didn't matter he was a good friend. You wouldn't want to screw up a perfectly good friendship. You always seemed to fuck everything up.

Steve was the one who set you up with this job. Your parents had started noticing some silly little thing you did when you were younger (it was the 40s not many enhanced humans were around). Yellow spirals floating around your head small jolts of energy. They started really noticing it when you turned 12. That was when they shipped you off to HYDRA. You were poked and prodded at for about 2 years before Dr. Zola decided to weaponize you. So began the training. The training you had endured made it almost impossible for you to feel. At age 18 Captain America or Steve Rogers was sent on a solo mission to find you. For 5 years you evaded capture. When Steve finally found you he somehow saw a tenderness in your eyes that you let seep through. So despite everyone wanting to execute you, Steve petitioned for you to be put on ice. So you were put under. At age 25 you were stashed away and hidden. So no one would ever find you.

Nearly 70 years later you were found. Steve had been found 4 years earlier and started the search to find you. It took everything he had but he had finally found you in a remote location underground in Osborne, Kansas. Bruce had helped to nurse you back to what seemed to be normal for the first year but soon you and Tony began casually flirting it grew into casual dating till you two had been going out for nearly 2 years. As if Tony had gotten bored he broke it off with you. You had fallen pretty hard so it was heart-crushing when he broke it off with you.

"Y/n. Y/n you there? Hello Y/n." Bruce's voice cut through all thoughts of Tony and the pain he put you through.

"Sorry Bruce, what was that?" Holding back the tears that wanted to spill.

"We need to run some test on why the water affected your powers."

"I'm fine I don't need them. It probably has something to do with the fact that I almost drowned. I'll be fine. Look see my powers are back I just needed some rest." Producing a yellow orb of energy and passing it off to Bruce you hop off the table and head towards your room before he can say anything. You feel bad for giving him the cold shoulder but you weren't really in the mood to be poked and prodded with needles once again in your overextended life.

You walk into your room and close the door behind you. Flopping down on your bed you hear a knock at the door. "Y/n you in?" a familiar voice asks. That voice still fills you with comfort but it also tears you apart. Your hearts jumped at the chance to hear him say your name once again. Now there he was on the other side of the door waiting for you to open it. "Y/n come on we need to talk. We can't be distracted on missions and I want us to at least still be able to work together."

Getting up you wipe the tears from your eyes. You don't even remember when you let the tears slip but there you were wiping the tears away. Checking in the mirror beside your door you see if you are even a little presentable before you open the door. You are so you open it. Tony looking down at you with a sad smile on his face. "What do you want Stark?" there was an edge there clearly meaning don't bother you. You're not in the mood but as normal he didn't read the cue.

"Listen, you were distracted this mission, what's up?"

Shocked you look back at him. Wanting to slam the door in his face but you resisted. "What's up? What's up Tony? What about the fact that you broke up with me!" yelling now you continue "You broke up with me Tony. We dated for almost two years and all of a sudden no warning whatsoever we break up. What did I do to make you unhappy? You know what don't answer that. I don't want to know. You don't deserve a second more of my time. So yeah we're cool. I am sorry I fucked up on the mission. Did you even remember it would've been our second anniversary today? I bet you didn't because I always had to remind you. So I am sorry for being distracted and I'm sorry that I almost died today. That's on me. It's on me for falling for you. It's on me that I love you. It's on me that I haven't moved on yet so just leave me the hell alone." You slammed the door in his face before he can get a word out.

Turning around and placing your back to the door you sink to the floor and sob. You know the entire tower probably heard your freak out but you didn't care. Everyone was convinced you two would get back together but it was officially over there was no hope for you two. Maybe that was ok you could grieve the loss of him and find someone new someone better.

Not all storms come to disrupt your life, some come to clear your path. -Anonymous

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #Bucky #S.A.O.L

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Cruel Summer Pt. II

Summary: Based loosely off of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift. Huge muse for this part was also Resentment by Kesha. After what was considerably one of the worst nights to ever be lived, things just seem to keep getting worse. Or will they?

Word Count: 2634

Warnings: Angst, lots of fucking angst, the reader talking a lot, manipulative speech, very slight age gap, anxiety, almost ddlg elements but not quite (Please let me know if I missed anything, I will be happy to add on)

A/N: Tags are at the bottom I know this had been long awaited and I’m so sorry it took so long. I had to rewrite the beginning so many times because the first part just seemed to flow so beautifully and I was having troubles encapsulating the grace. Will be added to AO3 at some point. NO spoilers, takes place before the events of Knives out. Read Part One Here

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs, likes, comments, and constructive criticism welcomed and highly appreciated.

Golden rays of sunshine creeped over rooftops, illuminating the room as it fought the cold of the night out that had settled in every crevice - a cold that was a constant reminder of the half empty bed. Soft sheets and expensive pillows that we no better than the pictures that were facedown on the dresser. A light snore and ball of exuberant warmth curled at the end of the unnecessary king size bed that somehow managed to ignite joy while drowning the feeling with sorrow. Even in the early morning hours, just minutes after the sun had risen, there was only one thing to be thought about, one person; Ransom. 

An insistent vibrating disturbed what little peace had fallen over the room, uncharacteristically early to the weekly norm. Even after it would stop, moments later it would begin again and it seemed that it wasn't going to go away anytime soon. A crack in the foundation, a rumbling earthquake that rocked the stability and what had started becoming a little better everyday was ready to crumble and fall. 

Paying attention to details should be a strong suit for someone who had two books published and one in the works - it was a talent that was nearly mastered by this point. But, emotionally drained and foggy brained from the expense that was a Thrombey family dinner, one that would surely be the talk of the family for months, and a restless night filled with discomfort and anxiety left any common sense buried under endless amounts of exhaustion. 

A quick swipe of a thumb, the light press of the cell phone to your ear, and suddenly everything froze. The feeling as if suddenly bathed in freezing water while fiery coals scorched your feet, butterflies lifting your chest higher to cloud nine while a pit opened in your stomach, heart racing with some wild mixture of dread and excitement; "My house at 3. Don't be late, baby girl."

That godforsaken drawl, the smirk that was evident in his voice, the fucking nickname. The line went dead, a heavy silence flooding the room like a tsunami. Thoughts raced in circles, picking apart and trying to guess what he could possibly want. 

Was he going to rub it in your face that he got under your skin? Made your blood boil? Of course he knew how he affected you, he knew you too well, better than anyone would like to admit. An apology? No - that's too far fetched, even after everything Ransom never was the one to apologize, even if he also knew it would be best. Possibly he had gathered the rest of your things, finally ready to rid himself of them. It's not like you took much when he told you to leave, and it was unlikely he would have taken the time himself to go through everything. He probably paid the maid extra to do it overnight so he wouldn't have to.

Either way, after last night, Ransom was the last person you wanted or expected to hear from. The sting of the incident, salt that was rubbed roughly in an aging wound, still fluttered deep in your chest. His words, the family's reaction, the countless notifications still untouched. Nothing anyone could have told you or showed you would have prepared you for what you had felt in that moment. 

Heavy limbs moved numbly but swiftly, mind working like the rusted innards of a clock, slow and almost confused. It didn't make sense as to why he would want to see you, he had done enough damage as is. The confusion quickly boiled over, simmering down to a fluttering anxiety of constant what ifs running their courses through your mind. 

The growing pup stirred at the feel of you moving from the bed, quickly laying his head back down when he saw you trudge into the bathroom. After a much longer than anticipated shower, the feel of the too warm water running down your skin and feeling as though it was washing away every single issue and emotion, a wave a vague normalcy set in. 

For at least a little you could believe this was normal, that it was just like last summer. Get up, get ready for the day, get some work done, then pamper before heading over to see Ransom. Just this time, there was a slightly different agenda. It wouldn't be all heated kisses, starved touches, and craved intimacy, it wouldn't be whispers of sweet nothings and the comfort of a protective embrace - even if every fiber of you craved it like a bad drug, it couldn't happen again, at least not that easily. And who was to say that was even his plan.

Anticipation made the hours go by slower than what was deemed truly plausible, and no matter what the possibilities of what was to come just wouldn't stop taunting every corner of your thoughts. Embarrassingly so you found yourself preparing much earlier than necessary, restyling yourself a handful of times to make sure stunning couldn't even come close to describing how effortlessly perfect you looked. If Ransom wanted to play games, you were determined to have the ball in your field for as long as possible. And to top it off, you made sure that nothing you had on was bought by him. 

But you could only hope that your efforts weren't in vain as you made your way to his house, a place of memories in the middle of pretty much nowhere. An almost 40 minute drive making way for doubts to slowly creep in and settle in the back of your mind. What if he could tell you tried too hard? He could so easily read you, it was as if you were one of your books. Or what if he thought you were trying to impress him? The only time you ever went out of your way to put much effort into your appearance was when you wanted him to really notice you or if he was taking you out. Maybe going in general was a bad idea and this was just some sick joke of his. 

But there was no time to back out as you pulled up in front of the house, his sitting silhouette evident through the glass window. Ransom noticed you immediately, moving to sit whatever was in his hands down and made his way to the door, already standing on the porch before you had even gotten out of your car. 

A slight uneasiness settled between the two of you, his arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows raised as he watched you, almost expectantly. The look was reminiscent of how your parents would stare you down when you were younger, when you had done something wrong. 

You stood outside your car, staring at him and matching his stance, only adding to the annoyance that was written on his face. "What do you want, Hugh?" The irritation in your voice was evident, and you were more than thankful your words didn't fail you. Stomach twisting in intricate knits, chest fluttering, palms becoming clammy; it was a genuine miracle you hadn't tripped over your words. 

His set jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he registered how you spoke to him, how you addressed him, "Just get in here. We need to talk."

A scoff fell from your lips as you made your way inside, "Always the gentlemen, aren't you," you spat, rolling your eyes as you walked towards the kitchen. Despite not intending on staying long, you threw your belongings on the island and leaned against the marble countertop, watching him as he stalked towards you, a nearly predatory look in his eyes. "What exactly do we need to talk about? I feel like last night made our positions pretty fucking clear."

He tsked, shaking his head. "You just don't get it, baby girl, dya?" 

Ransom opened his mouth to talk again but you cut him off, agitation finally bubbling over and bordering on rage, "I don't get it?" The words were hissed out and soaked in utter disbelief, "What exactly don't I fucking get, Ransom? The fact that you like to start shit? Or the fact that months after you told me to get the fuck out, you show up to a dinner you don't ever go to to cause a fucking scene, then tell me to meet you at your house the next day? What twisted memory of yours triggered you to suddenly act like you care about me? Why the fuck couldn't you just leave well enough alone?"

The taught muscles of his jaw twitched, intense blues boring into your own gaze. "You're such a spoilt fucking brat," he groaned out. "We had an agreement. No one was supposed to find out, but you had to go and-"

"I had to go and what?" You cut him off once again, only fueling the tension between the two of you and prodding the beast of emotions that was storming inside both of your bellies, "You are the one who opened your mouth, you are the one who fucking started this, all of this. From that night in the fucking bar, to you telling me I was the best thing to ever happen to you, to opening up your mouth last night. You always start it. And you're just pissed I finished it before you could get me to break in front of you."

A lump in your throat was beginning to form, jaw clenching as you swallowed, a feeble attempt to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. The rage was quickly turning into sorrow and hurt, the fire in your chest turning into an ache that couldn't be ignored, "You're just disappointed I waited until I got home, got away from you, to break down. Because you didn't get the satisfaction of seeing the pain you've caused."

There was a sudden twist in the atmosphere, hurricane breaking for a moment of relief before harsh waves continued to crash against the shore, "You act like I wanted to hurt you," his voice was grim, face painting in slight disgust, "Everything was great between us - You are the one who broke the rules. Not me." 

Ransom's head cocked to the side some, gaze moving over your features quickly, examining and calculating, "And even now," a small huff in disbelief as he shook his head, large hand moving to run through his hair which you had just noticed was free of any products. Odd, even for him. "Even now, you still came, you're still here. And I'm still thinking of giving you another chance."

Something buried deep within you snapped, a flood of pain filling every nerve and forcing tears to well in your eyes. "You're giving me another chance?" Any illusion of resolve and strength that had been built up had disappeared as quick as a snap of fingers, uneven breaths doing their best to keep the floodgates closed. "Ransom, you broke my fucking heart," each word filled with more hurt and distrust than the last, each a cut to the man who stood before you, his face softening as he watched you, "You're not the one here who should be giving out second chances, you're the one who should be receiving them."

The realization hit him, a douse of cold water to the face as his mind worked. Silence, albeit slightly uncomfortable, fell between the two of you as the gravity of the last few moments came crashing down. Just as it became too much to handle, lip quivering as the overwhelming urge to cry started becoming harder to fight off, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into him. 

Time seemed to slow, a few broken sobs slipping out, body shaking with the force of each one. The natural scent of him filling your senses, no expensive cologne, the feel of the soft sweater an unwanted comfort. Ransom's arms hugged tighter, lips going to your hairline, and staying like that until reality hit you. A weak push, one he could have easily ignored and overpowered, and he stepped away, his features much more readable, looking far more vulnerable. He was much more vulnerable, much more vulnerable than you were ever used to.

Shaky breaths fell from you, trying to clear the fog that was beginning to form over rational thoughts. Wiping your eyes you looked at him, "What exactly is it that you want, Ransom? Why did you really ask me to come over?"

He looked almost taken aback, confused and dazed by the question, but more so by his own train of thought. His mouth opened then closed, repeating the action a few more times before groaning out exasperatedly. "I don't know, for things to go back to how they were?" It sounded far more like a suggestion than an answer. "Come on, (Y/N), we were good together." 

The words came off as if he was trying to convince himself that this was what he wanted. You waited, seeing if he would try to convince you, persuade you like he believed he so easily could, how he used to. "I- No," you shook your head, "I can't do that to myself again, I can't let you do that to me again."

"Do what?" He practically snapped, jaw setting as agitation made home in him once again. He didn't expect it to be so damn hard. He no undoubtedly assumed that he'd immediately have you wrapped around his finger like nothing had changed. "Treat you like a fucking princess? Treat you how you deserve to be treated? You and I both know that you're never gonna be able to find someone who can give you what I gave you, nothing that's going to have that same thrill we did."

Shaking your head you grabbed your bag, throwing it over your shoulder. "See Ransom, you're the one that doesn't get it. I want that more than anything. I want the spontaneous trips and heartfelt gifts. I want the late night conversations and finishing each other's sentences. I would give anything to be on your jet flying to whatever place you're insisting I need to see. I want it all," your voice was practically a whine by the end of it, "But I don't want the sneaking and the hiding. I don't want the separate houses. I don't want lying to everyone."

Running a hand through your hair, you took a shaky breath, trying to calm your nerves. "I need someone who isn't going to just care for me behind a closed door," the calmness of your voice even scared you in the moment, and seeing that Ransom practically froze you could tell he was feeling the same, "I need someone who is going to be there for me how you were, but isn't ashamed of it. That won't get mad when I take cutesy pictures of us on the beach, that won't pretend to hate me in front of their family and friends, that I don't have to pretend is someone else when I'm talking about them. I don't want things to go back to how they were, I want them to be better than they were."

You walked past his nearly frozen stature, heading for the door. "I love you Ransom, and probably always will. But I love myself more than that and I can't let myself be hurt like that again." 

The words echoed off the hallway, ringing in his ears and sitting like a heavy weight on his chest. Your reached for the door, stopping suddenly as his voice reached back out, "Wait - I- fuck," he let out a shaky breath. "Don't leave. Not yet at least. Can we sit and talk over dinner? Please."

Taglist: (Slash through means unable to be tagged)   @sweetlittlegingy @star-spangled-steve @jessiejunebug @fresa-luna @thegirlwithpaperheart @jesaigne @introvertedmouse @sinner-as-saint @sp2900 @qrndevans @dammitcaswhy @livsheph @darcia22 @paranjaperiyauniverse @dramaticsassmaster​ @rose-k @lovemesomeavengers​ @steeeeverogers​ @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​ @bemysugarbean​ @dreamlesswonder86​ @ambrosixx​ @heyiamthatbitch​ @daazzeey​, @fresa-luna​ @bitchcraftandwitchery​ @thatoneslytherinbeater​ @breezyfreezey @quesadellacatburglar @renxzs​ @imsonick​ @sambucky8​ @honeybabybubba​

#ransom #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey x you #chris #chris evans #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #cruel summer #cruel summer fan fiction #knives out #knives out fanfiction

[resinatingbeauty]

In Memory of The Best Friend I Ever Had - RIP Shadow (assumed)- 4/30/2021

Shadow showed up at my parents house where I lived at the time, one night back in 2016. I had just gotten home from working at a local country club late in the evening, tired, and physically burnt out from working 40+ hours a week on top of going to college for my associates degree. I saw something pass by the driveway out of the corner of my eye. Something massively fluffy, tail straight up in the air, trotting along. There are many feral cat colonies in this town and many cat owners that lived on that street. Needless to say, I didn't expect this one to whip back around and start chirping at me, rubbing my legs after I called to her.

My mother was adamant when my last two cats had past 8 or so years prior that she wasn't looking for any more pets. My mom loves animals, but she also loves her home and was thinking about doing renovations before adopting any new companions. I knew I was in trouble when this cat came to me with nothing but affection, clearly malnourished, but strangely well groomed. I knew she had to be owned by someone, I had no idea who.

That night I went inside after spending some time enjoying her company. At the time, I was calling 'Charlemange'' as a play on 'Charlemagne'. I had been taking a medieval humanities course at the time and the name seemed fitting enough considering how much scraggly fur she had. Huge paws. Big, fluffy tail and mane. I had never seen a cat so gorgeous around the area. All the feral cats are short hairs, reinforcing my notion that she had to be someone's pet.

I watched through the window slit of the front door as Charlemange played with the moths and other bugs that were attracted to the lamp post my parents have at the end of the driveway and regretted leaving her out there.

I simply thought that Charlemange would return home where she belonged. When I went out to my back screened in patio, whom do you think was waiting for me? Meowing? Charlemange. To my mother's horror, she would launch herself at the screen and hang there to get our attention. Imagine this big ass cat hanging from your screened in porch you've been trying to renovate by all her claws.

She was persistent and Charlemange NEVER returned home, wherever home was.

Eventually, I sealed the deal, low key giving her a can of tuna. Now you see how Shadow went from Charlemange to Shadow.

For about a month, all I had to do was make a high pitched noise and Shadow would come out of wherever brush she was stalking, running and talking until she found me. One evening, I went to give her her dinner, and she shot in the front door.

Mortified, I watched as she scooted right into the one place that I dreaded her to go. My parent's room. That night, as a 20 something, I received a lecture from my father about how my mother felt about pets. 'She isn't a kitten, you know,' he said, 'thats a grown cat. Someone else's cat.'

I just listened and acknowledged what he was saying. I knew there was no point trying to explain what exactly happened. When my dad got done going off on the back porch and went back in to bed, I heard a meow from the patio door. Shadow had been standing at the door, waiting for him to leave , almost like she was saying, 'Hey, I'm really sorry about that, sis,'

Shadow would go on to live in or around the property for nearly a month. I made an effort to find her owners and return her to no avail. Eventually, a single mom I had been working as a private tutor for as a side hustle agreed that she would take Shadow. This would only last for a few months. The family had another cat, Karma, whom had been declawed (I abhor this) and two little girls who had no respect for animals (especially cats) because of this. I knew how the oldest handled Karma and my only solace in handing Shadow over was that I knew she wouldn't be hit by a car, would be fed, loved to a degree, and would scratch the shit out of them if they fucked up.

Their mother ended up calling me, giving me money to bring Shadow in to the humane society, saying she was a wonderful cat, just not the best fit for the girls. I could only imagine what Shadow went through at that house, because the time there changed her. The collar I had on her was returned to me snapped in two. It looked like it had been pulled off. I cringed thinking about it and never put another collar back on that cat. At the time, a woman had been busted hoarding 100+ cats that had all been relinquished to the humane society and local rescues. The humane society's solution for most was euthanasia and I wasn't about that for Shadow. Back to my backyard she went.

Eventually, Shadow won over my mother and my father, especially my father, whom you would never think would love that cat so much. When my mother brought Shadow to the vet, we were surprised to find she had a chip in her ear registered to someone on our block. As per protocol, animal control was sent out to investigate. The woman told animal control that she didn't want the cat. All she did was run away. Shadow's real name was Holly, but she was still Shadow to me.

Shadow became the best friend I ever knew. Not a night went by where she wasn't under my covers sharing the pillow with me, laying stretched out on her back or side as the little spoon. If she wasn't in my bed, she would sit at the door to the bedroom, guarding me or in a chair next to me, always watching. I could do no wrong in that cat's eyes. She was the highlight of my day when I got home from every crappy job I had since. A furry coat to soak up the tears shed during long nights of insomnia and depression. An inspiration for my art and spirituality. My familiar and kindred spirit. If I would talk to her, she would respond with chirps and meows like she knew exactly what I was saying. If someone else was in the room giving her attention and I walked in, she would perk up and run toward me like they never existed. Shadow was the second cat that chose me. I have never chosen a cat from a shelter or adoption / rescue facility. This is how I acquired both my childhood furry friend and Shadow.

It all began when I noticed Shadow's fur was sticky and stiff, like she had been sitting in honey. Just the end of her tail at first. She always had this silly habit of sitting in her food tray, so I cleaned it and her and thought nothing of it until the drooling started.

Shadow had always been a drooler, but not to this extent. Drool bubbles would pop from her left lip. One night, when I came home from work before I started my leave to focus on my Etsy shop, I was horrified to find her sitting on the couch with a bloody chin. Now, there wasn't a large amount of blood, but this alarmed me significantly. It was time to see a vet, like, yesterday. Thankfully, my shop sales had been great and I didn't have to fret over the bill- I was ready to pay whatever it was to make her feel better.

The vet confirmed what I knew deep down and didn't want to acknowledge because the thought was just too painful. Cancer. No chance of survival even if I wanted to go through the hell of treatment, which involved removal of the tongue and jaw. I brought Shadow home and cried, hoping for the best -that the antibiotic would work. The vet said she had been wrong before, it could just be an abscess and it would heal. Shadow was still doing cat things. Shadow was still my best friend, she still loved me, she was still trying to cuddle me at night and surrounding me with the reminder of death in the odor of her breath.

Yesterday, I brought Shadow in to be put to sleep. The decision was made when I looked up from making a rune set and saw puddles of blood on the floor, a stream of it from her face as she was sitting in the window sill. I have never felt so heartbroken. Not even at a family member's funeral. I asked to bring her home, burying her under the tree where I buried my last cat and childhood familiar, Elmo. When I saw the standard biohazard bag peeking up through the dirt, I knew that was where she belonged. With her sister. Yesterday, my heart was buried with that cat. Eleven years was not long enough but each one filled with so much love and happiness. I stood with her until the end. The only peace I feel is that I know that she is no longer hurting. I know she knew I loved her.

I miss you Shadow. To those of you who have recently lost your best friend, your familiar or the love of your life, my heart goes out to you. I hope that someone else can read this and share my pain. I understand that there was nothing I could do but love her. Love your pets. Love them as long and as well as you can- nothing is immortal. We accept this when we commit to caring for our (mostly) furry (sometimes scaly or feathery) friends. This doesn't mean that it hurts any less when we lose them.

To my customers, who have been patiently and diligently awaiting orders while Etsy forced hiatus on my shop, preventing sales during this crisis in addition to my sister in law's wedding and me poking my own eye out back and February- you all are really the best turn of luck I've had. You do not know how much I appreciate you allowing me the time to spend these last few precious moments with her. It truly means the world to me and I hope at the end you receive something worth your time and patience. I have not forsaken fulfillment, and orders are still shipping. Unfortunately, I NEED to reopen and accept new orders, as Etsy is demanding payment for $600 worth of shipping labels. My shop is still appearing as in hiatus at the moment, but I ask for all the support my friends, supporters and followers can offer at this time as I essentially will be working for free when I reopen to pay these fees. Great, right?

If you are awaiting refunds, there is literally no money in the account associated with Etsy. However, as the funds become available, I will be processing refunds / cancellations. I'm sorry for the delays, I never thought I would say I found success at the worst possible time. I urge the rest of you- if you have a deadline for your order for the love of goddess TELL ME. I am getting a little frustrated with buyers (who are frustrated with me, understandably, but still, my item descriptions are clear about relaying deadlines) who are upset or complaining about meeting gift deadlines or other deadlines I literally had no idea about. I'm a decent psychic, but not perfect.

~ Samantha

(Owner/Designer/Creator blursedbaubles.etsy.com)

#cats in boxes #handmade #witchcraft #funny cats #rescue cats #witch familiar #familiars #text post #witchy #witch stuff #ecletic pagan #witch shop on etsy #memorial #remember #cat story #dealing with grief #grief journal #spirit animal #animals #happy pets #pet pics #cats #paganism #crystaljewelry #crystals #witchblr #wiccan #witch cat #witchs familiar #witches of etsy

[scobbe]

I think today was the first Sunday since the beginning of August (when she introduced herself) that the organist and I were like, totally cool with one another’s presence and neither of us going wHAt iS HAppEnING?? which was an enormous relief really (we didn’t even get a chance to say hello but I think that was ok.) So I was kind of resting in that (and worrying slightly about not putting out enough wafers for the Eucharist) and also kind of processing my niece having to be picked up by her alternative aunt, which does make me feel like a bit of a failure as an aunt myself, but she was also like... weirdly distant with me, like she used to run right up to me and throw her arms around my waist as a kid, and I understand teenagers being more standoffish but she’s been very sweet with my mom so I’m just suspicious that she like... figured out her Auntie is gay and is being weird about it.

But anyway I was sitting there sort of mellowing out in the kind of exhaustion you get after a really emotional time (and I had woken up at like 5:40 this morning too) and was really kind of out of it for our Episcopal 101 class after, but was hanging in there. Then like, the class breaks up and everyone is leaving but my mom is still firmly seated chatting with the priest about plumbers. And then the last other person leaves and my mother is like Oh shall I mention and I immediately said NO because yesterday morning I had mentioned just in passing in a totally different conversation and context about how I’d thought about doing the priesty thing myself (and our priest had mentioned in the class about how she’d love to have a deacon and you have to become a deacon before you become a priest) so anyway, I’m like, trying to warn my mother off but I’m feeling like shit now because I haven’t eaten anything but a donut since 7:30 and it’s almost 2:30 now, so my mom just outs with it that I had been thinking of becoming a deacon and I’m just like shit shit shit shit shit that was not at all how I wanted such a meaningful conversation with our priest to go, like ... it absolutely spiraled into a really humiliating place.

And our priest is like, very cool, very chill, she doesn’t give a thing away. She said she’s appreciated what I’ve been doing with the Altar Guild and I said I’ve been enjoying it and was keen to learn more whenever she’d like. And she and I just left it at that. But I literally wanted to throw my mother out the window. Like honest to God. You don’t talk about these things like they are something you want to sign up for like an activity on a cruise ship, or even like an educational program, this is like your whole fucking *life in relation to God* you are talking about, it’s not a job you put on a CV along with computer technician or graphic designer (she actually mentioned these “things I have done” alongside it, when I have never, actually, done anything of any measure in my life.)

And I’m beyond pissed I didn’t get to bring it up to our priest myself. She looks to me sometimes now knowing I am learning as much as I can, that I am extremely curious and soaking up everything. And she asks me to read, even in the class she asks me to read, and today it happened to be the bit of Corinthians that they always read while serving communion. And it is meaningful to me, but from such a careful, humble place. And my mom throws it out like I am 14 again and thinking of auditioning for drum major.

I told our priest I had been planning to sit on it for at least a month before ever saying anything (and it wasn’t even what I intended to talk to her about.) So I am just going to do that and forget anything was ever mentioned, just like all the fuckups and misunderstandings that had to be corrected with the organist, and sometimes time passing and not exacerbating the matter is the only thing that can be done.

#but I am so so mad she stole that moment from me #not that it would have ever gone the way I had it in my head #but I wanted to work up the courage to say it and to say it myself #anyway #i am now just emotionally bereft #I guess it is all a lesson in humility #break me again O Lord if you have to

[byunsbobobu]

Blood Promise [ Chapter 3 ]

Vampire Baekhyun AU

Pairing; Twin Baekhyun/BaekBaëk/ Alana

Genre; vampire/ fantasy AU

Warnings; angst, fluff, language, mentions of blood, (smut in future chapters)

Word Count: 3062

Prologue:   Chapter 1:    Chapter 2:  

~Vampires falling in love with humans was forbidden. That is until 18-year-old Alana Davis moves to town and attends the new boarding school; Hallows Boarding School. Unaware that vampires exist and that the school is home to both Vampires and humans. On one late night Alana stumbles upon two brooding and mysterious twin brothers, but little did she know they would soon change her life.  Will it be for the worse or the better?~

__________________________________________________________

The next morning, I woke up in my room. Unaware of how I got here in my bed, and under the covers. I get up abruptly sitting up on my bed, my eyes wide in shock. I still wore the same outfit I had on yesterday haven’t yet changed out of it. My hair though was a complete disaster as it was sticking up in all different directions on top of my head. Last I could remember was being in the library so late at night with… taking a deep breath and swallowing the lump down in my throat. With them; the Byun brothers. How did I get back here? Looking around my surroundings checking and making sure nobody was in my room. Not finding anyone here I begin to relax my shoulders. Confused now at how I could’ve gotten here without remembering.

  I couldn’t remember anything past sitting in the library with them. Why was that? I wondered. Last thing I remember was them talking some crazy nonsense about them being Vampires. All of a sudden I burst out laughing out loud to myself. I swore I was starting to go crazy. Vampires! no way. They couldn’t be. I kept telling myself over and over again trying, even though deep down I knew they weren’t making it up. At least not fully, because I can’t forget the way Baekhyun was touching and kissing around my neck, and Baëkhyun’s hungry stare as he stared at my beating pulse on my neck where Baekhyun’s lips were pressed up against. Thinking about it now. I slowly remember almost giving in to their teasing ministrations of letting Baekhyun sink his teeth into my neck, and I shivered. Why would I be thinking of such a thing like that. Mentally smacking myself in the head I wonder Was this how they caught their prey? By seducing them. Damn, I really must be crazy.

Snapping out of my thoughts I check to see the time and see that it’s only a couple hours until my first class of the morning. Grunting and deciding to get ready early since I’m already up anyways I slowly remove the covers from myself body and get up from my comfy bed. Pulling my shirt up to my nose I give it a quick sniff and I immediately cringe at the way I smelt from not showering last night. I began to get worried that I might’ve smelt like this when I was back in the library. Groaning and rolling my eyes, I begin removing the rest of my clothes bringing it to them hamper in my closet and throwing it in.

Walking into my bathroom and facing the mirror I start adjusting my hair by putting it up in a messy bun. Suddenly I freeze all the color of my face gone. looking at myself in the mirror I gasp. A purple mark was evident on my neck. Moving closer to the mirror I analyze the bruise on my sensitive skin. Taking my finger, I lightly touch the mark and wince from the slight sting. “Fuck! Baekhyun that bastard” I cursed. What was I going to do about THIS thing on my neck? Now clearly annoyed, as if I wasn’t already annoyed before I dropped the hold on my hair and decide to keep it down today. Since it was winter it was also the perfect opportunity to wear one of my scarfs I had in my closet. This is great! I smiled. no one will suspect a thing. Turning around from facing the mirror I walk towards my shower opening the see-through glass door, and stepping in. Turning the handle of the shower; the water beings to trickle down from the shower head. As the warm water makes contact with my skin, I let out a deep breath I hadn’t known I was holding. Running my fingers through my now soaked black hair tilting my head back I begin to relax.

 After a couple of minutes of standing under the water I’m finally finished. Turning off the shower, I open the glass door and step out the souls of my feet touching the cold white tile of the floor and I grab my towel wrapping it around my body and make my way out of the foggy bathroom. Walking into my closet and switching on the lights I walk over to the rack of clothes where all my uniforms hung. I decided to switch it up today from wearing all black and ended up going with a gray long sleeve coat that had the school’s logo imprinted on the top pocket of the coat. The coat went down a little past my waist.  Grabbing a white button up dress shirt I paired it with black dress pants and a pair of cute black snow boots along with black gloves to cover my hands from the freezing cold outside, and finally I was ready. Before walking out of my closet I stop in front of the many different scarfs not forgetting to grab one. Now standing in front of the mirror I wrap a white colored scarf around my neck making sure to keep Baekhyun’s love bite out of people’s sights.

  Stepping foot out of my hotel of a closet I walk over towards my bed, sitting on the edge I reach out to grab my phone on my nightstand and quickly check to see the time. The time read 7:40. Twenty minutes until my first class of the day. Thinking I should start heading to my class, I get up from sitting on my bed and head into my small kitchen that was connected with my living room and grabbing a red apple from the fridge to munch on, while I walked to class. Feeling, like I’m ready to go, grabbing my bookbag that hung on one side of the chair near me, slinging the straps over my shoulders I march towards the front door turning the nob, and opening it.  Stepping out into the corridors I say to myself a few words of encouragement and make my way.

  Standing outside in front of the exit of my dormitory building; Looking around my surroundings, taking in a deep breath of cold air from winter. The cold winter air hitting my pale rosy cheeks, and the wind blowing through my soft black hair. I Shiver, rubbing my arms up and down on my body to help create some heat I take a few steps down the stairs and make my way towards class. Deciding to text Chanyeol and Sehun that I was on the way to class and quickly putting my phone back in my pant pocket.

 As I was walking I just couldn’t stop and think about the last words Baëkhyun had said to me last night at the library about Uncle Dae. How he somehow owes them something. What could Uncle Dae possibly owe them. Curiosity getting the best of me again. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket’s again and decided to send my uncle a quick text about wanting to meet up with him after my last class of the day. I needed to talk with him about certain things that have been going on lately. It’s time I finally find out what’s really been really going on with my uncle. Ever since you two had last lost contact with each other 2 years ago, he hasn’t been acting, like the Uncle Dae I once knew.  Frowning I begin to wonder if this was the reason my parents had distanced us from speaking to him all this time? Was it having to do with something related to the Byun brothers?

  Feeling a buzzing vibration emanate from my phone seconds later. Pulling the device up to my face I check to see if it was my uncle responding to my request on meeting later today, and it was him indeed. He replied with a “Okay :)” approaching your classroom, I shove my phone back into my back pocket grabbing the handle of the door twisting the nob and walk inside.

 ____________________________________________________________________

4:00 pm

 Finally. It’s the end of the day, and I couldn’t be happier. Grabbing my bag from the floor and my books from the desk. Standing up I pull my books close to my chest and make my way out of the classroom with Chanyeol and Sehun walking side by side with me as I stood in between the both of them. They had asked if I wanted to grab a quick lunch with them at the café before going back to our dorms and crashing for the rest of the night. I had to sadly, and kindly decline the offer. I had told them I was going to meet up with my uncle to talk to him about some stuff; which they were curious enough to ask about. I knew it was probably best to keep them out of all this drama between my uncle and the Byun brothers; which was why I haven’t told them anything yet. Eventually if they kept integrating me about things I would have to, but for now it was better if they weren’t involved in all this.

 “It really sucks you have to meet with your uncle, today out of all days when we want to go out for lunch.” Sehun whines like a child.

 Looking over at him and giving him a smile, I tell him

“We’ll have lunch some other time this week Sehun. I’m not going anywhere.” I confirm to him. Sehun was awfully clingy. I didn’t expect this type of behavior from him at all, since from my first impression of him on my first day of school didn’t go quite like this. He made it seem like he was a hard-shell on my first day, but in reality he was a big baby, and so was Chanyeol, but he tried to keep his thoughts to himself.

  Chanyeol on the other side of me lets out a deep chuckle lowering his head and shaking it in embarrassment. Turning my head to look up at him smiling you discreetly observe his tall frame hovering over you, with his red hair gelled up enough to expose his forehead. His smile visible on his face; while his cheeks looked a bit red from the cold, he said.  “C’mon Sehun. let’s go Alana needs to go see her uncle.” He says dragging Sehun away from you giving you an apologetic look. Slightly pouting Chanyeol pulls Sehun away and they start heading in the opposite direction as me.  Giving me one last glance back. I wave goodbye to both of them a huge grin on my face before turning back around and heading for my uncle’s office.

  Finally standing in front of my uncle front door of his office I had begun to feel nervous. Flashbacks from the first time I stood in this exact spot outside his door and met Baaekhyun. Quickly snapping out of my thought I fix myself before knocking on the door.

 After a few minutes of waiting I begin to hear the clicking sounds of the lock being turned and then suddenly the door slowly opens. Fear and anxiety were coursing through my veins as I waited to see who would be on the other side of that door. My hands had begun to feel clammy, and my heart was beating particularly fast. I knew that coming here would be the only way to get answers that I needed to get clarity from my uncle, on why the Byun brothers are so adamant in making sure he pays for whatever wrong he did to them. So, I quickly straighten myself up putting on a brave face, in case they were yet again inside his office.

 Finally, with the door wide open, my uncle’s head pop’s out from behind the big doors and a huge smile is on his face. His eyes glowing with admiration as he looked at me.

 “Alana! It’s so good to see you again.” He smiles all worries from our last encounter seeming forgotten.

 “Come in! Come in!” he moves aside motioning me to step enter inside.

 With a quick head nod and a smile, I slowly step through his office doors and entering inside. The office was a bit chilly today, as a breeze wafted my way as he was closing the door behind me. Uncle Dae quickly makes his way behind his desk and sits on his chair, as I sat down in front of him on the same chair I had sat on last time you were here. My mind wandering off again to Baekhyun and Baëkhyun. I just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about them. I couldn’t stop thinking about Baekhyun, and how our first encounter went. I remembered back to his intimidating gaze and the way words rolled off his tongue so effortlessly and seductively. Making me feel like I had been under a spell. I also couldn’t stop thinking about Baëkhyun either. He was so cold and closed off unlike Baekhyun. He didn’t speak much, but he was just so mysterious that my mind couldn’t help but wander off to thoughts about him also.

 Snapping out of my thoughts suddenly I hear my uncle clear his throat. His hands now placed and folded on top of his desk, with a concerning look on his face.

 “Soo.. what brings you hear so suddenly?” He asks curiosity laced in his voice.

 “I just wanted to talk about what happened two weeks ago.” I reply.

 Once those words slipped past my lips my uncle’s smile that he had a few second’s ago quickly disappeared and turned into a frown. He didn’t look to happy that I had brought up that day. Looking at me now. A flash of annoyance in his voice as he spoke.

 “What’s there to talk about?” He began.

“I already told you to stay away from them.”

“That they aren’t good people to be around.” He continued.

 “What’s more to talk about.” He finished now looking at me straight in the eyes. I started to feel uncomfortable around him again. Just like the last two times I had been around him. He emanated such an intimidating and scary aura. He definitely wasn’t the same person he was 2 years ago. Something that happened here over the past few years truly had changed him. I didn’t know if it was for the good, or the bad, but something deep down told me that it wasn’t for the better. Still looking up at him I noticed a change of emotions in his eyes. He no longer had an endearing smile on his face. As I was continued staring at him all I could see was a dull blackness in his eyes. What happened to your uncle out here?

 Sighing and looking down at my lap afraid of my uncle’s intimidating glare, and reaction to seeing the Byun brother’s again playing with my fingers I mumbled out.

 “I saw them..”

 My uncle’s ears perked up at the mention of “them.”  His eyes now looking even more enraged then minutes ago. He looked like he really hated their guts.

 “YOU WHAT!” his voice boomed through the room, slamming his fists on his desk. I yelped, jumping in my seat a little at his surprising outburst. Pinching the bridge of his nose and taking in a deep breath he muttered something under his breath, and I shortly spoke again.

 “I saw them again.” This time looking up from my lap and looking straight into his eyes not breaking eye contact.

  “I saw them, and I know what they are uncle….” You continued.

 ___________________________________________________________________

 And as if timing couldn’t be any worse on my side. All of a sudden someone came crashing through those doors. Not just one, but two familiar voices boomed through the office. Tensing up I freeze when I hear their voices speak. Those same two voice I just couldn’t possibly get out of my head ever since I first saw them.

 “Jongdae we brought you din-.” They both spoke but stopped once they realized I were seated in front of my uncles desk once again they stopped mid-sentence. Afraid to turn around rubbing my palms on my thighs, sweat dripping down my forehead I slowly begin to turn my body towards the two culprits that have seemed to be running through your mind a lot lately. Finally, with your body and face facing both of them my breath catches in my throat at what I was seeing at this very moment. Their mouths and clothes covered in crimson red blood, and their sharp fangs were protruding out from beneath their gums as they stared at you hungrily both their eye’s piercing into your soul, as it looked like what Baëkhyun held in his hand resembled a human heart. I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing.  If I had any doubts that what they had told me last night was a lie. All that clearly vanishing from my mind and replaced with fear. Baekhyun and Baëkhyun were in fact Vampires. Creatures of the night that preyed on humans and drank their blood, and I being a human stood right in front of them.

 Turning my head around to look back over at my uncle I almost screamed at what I saw right in front of me. His eyes had now turned an even darker color of black then before the two had intruded our conversation, but that’s not what you were worried about at the moment. What scared me the most wasn’t his eyes, no.

It was the fangs protruding out beneath his gums similar to both Baekhyun and Baëkhyun’s. Your uncle looked like an enraged dog staring at a piece of meat. That meat being the human heart that Baëkhyun held so clearly in front of both of us. I quickly started to put the pieces together at how strange my uncle has been acting when he was around me. He was just like them. Predators. With my voice shaky out of fear and shock you finally speak.

 “Vampire”  

 __________________________________________________________________

** AUTHORS NOTE; OMG!! Don’t hate me about the cliffhanger. I had to ;)

So now Alana knows why Uncle Dae has been acting weird around her, and she now also believes that Vampires are real. Everything starts getting more interesting after this chapter, so stay tuned. Sorry there wasn’t much Baekhyun in this chapter. I wanted to do like a suspenseful chapter where Alana finds out what’s been going on with her uncle. I promise more Baekhyun next chapter and possibly a little steamy ;)

 Also, what do you think happened between Jongdae, Baekhyun and Baëkhyun that they seem to hold against Alana’s uncle?? **

#exo #exo au #exo idols #exo smut #byun baekhyun au #baekhyun #byun baekhyun exo #EXO baekhyun #vampire au #baekhyun vampire #baekhyun smut #vampire baekhyun #kpop au #kpop smut #park chanyeol smut #oh sehun smut

[illfoandillfie]

Oh my gosh what about 40 except it’s her who texts the wrong person? With any of the boys I can’t choose lol

40. Called/texted the wrong person but she he was into it anyway.

Okay babe, this was a Very Good prompt. Originally didn’t plan to have quite so much smut but hhhhhhhh its midnight and i am worked the fuck up after a day of writing these things. Also it’s like 1500 words so I’m gonna chuck this one under a cut.

Also also, I went with Gwil because I haven’t had any gwil recs so blease be kind I don’t write him so often.

~~~

“u up? I need u” you sent the text quickly, hoping the guyyou’d had an off and on fuck buddy setup with would be around to answer.

“It’s 1am, why do you need me?”

More words than you’d expected. Normally he’d reply with athumbs up or down. But you didn’t think about it too much before replying. “myvibes out of batteries and my fingers aren’t working”

There was a long pause. Also unusual. Normally if he wasfree he’d reply within seconds. You glanced back up at the previous messages.Why was there a text in there about leaving your sweater at his place? You hadn’tbeen to his place recently. Your brain ticked over, slowly putting the piecesof the puzzle together until you realised your mistake. You took another lookat the name of the person you’d texted. GWILYM. Oh fuck. With all the speed youcould muster you began typing out a quick apology and explanation but beforeyou could hit send he’d responded.

“Poor baby girl. Can’t leave you like that, can we. Yours ormine?”

That was the last thing you’d expected him to say. Youshould let him know you’d texted him by accident though, shouldn’t you? Thatwas the polite thing to do. Your thumb hovered over the send button but youdrew it back again. The thing was, he was apparently not opposed to the idea.And if you told him you’d been thinking of someone else then he’d probably loosehis nerve or his interest. And really that would just leave you to booty call aguy who may or may not respond. But this was an almost guaranteed fuck. Sure,the potential for awkwardness was much higher but Gwil was very attractive andit wasn’t like you hadn’t considered it before. You deleted half the apologymessage and stopped again, reconsidering. Maybe he’d been joking. You retypedthe next three words of the apology. But he didn’t sound like he was joking. Sofuck it. Right? Yeah, fuck it. You’d just fuck Gwil instead of the guy younormally went to. You finished deleting the apology quickly typing back “mine?”

“I’ll be there in 10,” It came through a lot faster than theprevious messages. Okay. So he was coming over and he was eager. You lookedaround your room to make sure it was tidy enough for company, swinging yourlegs out of bed and walking towards your front door to wait. You stood, armsfolded over your chest for a couple of minutes, but the chill of the tiles creptup your bare legs, so you began pacing up and down the corridor, waiting forGwil to arrive. Around ten minutes later you heard a knock on your door, startlingyou from your reverie. You didn’t bother pretending to wait a few minutes,instead opening the front door before he’d managed to lower his fist. You weretoo worked up to worry about whether or not you looked desperate.

“Hi,” he said as soon as he saw you, “apparently you needme?”

All you could manage was to nod as you stepped out of thewalkway, letting him in.

“You that needy you can’t even talk?” He chuckled softly,dropping his overnight bag by the door and stepping in close to drag his thumbover your lips. You watched his eyes slowly creep up your body, taking in your nakedlegs and the oversized shirt you wore, “Good thing I’m here then, isn’t itdarling? Your room’s down this way, if I remember correctly?”

“Yeah,”

He laughed again as he let you go, turning to walk towardsyour room, trusting you’d follow. Which you did, of course.

“I think I know what the answer to this is but I’ve gottaask anyway, I was a wrong number right?”

“Yeah,” you said sheepishly, closing your bedroom doorbehind you.

“But you’re still okay with me being here?”

“Yes. I just really really need a good fuck,”

“Don’t worry about that, darling, you’ll get what you want.But you need to understand something. I’m not just some fuck. I don’t expect usto date after tonight or even for this to happen again. But I’m not just arandom booty call you can use and then lose. Okay? So if that’s a problem foryou, speak up now.”

“No, there’s no problem. I understand.”

“Good girl,”

You felt a shiver run through you with his praise. Or maybethat was because he was once again standing in your personal space, slippinghis hands under the hem of your shirt. You had to grab onto his arm forstability when his elegant fingers came into contact with your core.

“You poor desperate little thing. Completely soaked already.”

“Please Gwil, I want you so bad.”

“I know sweetheart. But, while you might be ready, I’m not. Youable to help me out?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth you were droppingto your knees, making short work of his fly and pushing his pants down hislegs. He calmly told you to wait as he stepped out of them and added his shirtto the pile before finally allowing you to touch him. With a look up at him tomake sure he was okay with the morning’s events you leaned in and ran yourtongue along his half hard length. You went as slow as you could manage consideringyou were running on pure need, trailing hot open-mouthed kisses up and down hisshaft until he grew impatient enough to warningly say your name. You took thehint, switching to suck on his tip as you pumped him slowly. He tangled his fingersinto your hair, making you hum as you slowly bobbed your head over him. He hadto remind you to be patient n a few times, his voice a low growl and his gripon your hair tightening slightly. But you could hardly be blamed for want tomove things along a little faster. You were just about dripping with how badlyyou wanted him in your pussy.

Eventually he relented, praising you for being such a goodlittle cockslut, sucking him off so well.

“But you want more, don’t you darling? Want me to fuck yourneedy little pussy?”

“God yes Gwil, please.”

He held his hand out to help pull you to your feet, “How doyou want me?”

“I don’t care,”

“Alright, I suppose you’ve waited long enough. On the bed,on your back. I’m going to watch your pretty face when you cum and I expect tohear you moaning my name.”

He didn’t have to wait long to hear it, a rough, “oh fuckGwil,” falling from your lips as soon as he entered you. The slight burn fromthe stretch only made it more delicious as you finally got what you’d so badlyneeded. Another shaky moan was pulled from you as he readjusted your position,lifting your legs up over his shoulders, letting him sink even deeper. Hestarted carefully, giving you a moment or two to adjust to him before he beganrolling his hips against yours. Almost gentle at first but your pleading formore, faster, harder had him changing his pace, thrusting into you roughly,making you cry out with every one. And he kept up a string of praise, callingyou a good girl for being so vocal for him, telling you how turned on he wasbut how fucking wet you were, how good you felt. You shook when you finally came,finally got the release you’d been craving, Your voice caught in your throatand you grabbed at the sheets so tight you thought you might have ripped themwith your nails. He kept fucking you through it, even when his own release hit,his grunts puncturing the air until you were choking out his name.

Carefully he pulled out of you. You were vaguely aware thathe’d got up, left the room, half expecting to find him gone when you finallysummoned the strength to move. But he returned a minute later with a glass ofwater and a warm cloth.

“Do you mind?” He asked, holding the cloth up. You shookyour head, and he cleaned you up as carefully as he could. When he was done hegave you a hand to sit up and handed you the water.

“Drink, Y/N.”

You mumbled a small thank you and gulped down the entireglass.

“Better?”

“Yes, thanks. Are you staying?”

“If that’s alright. I brought an overnight bag but I wasn’tsure.”

“I’d like it if you did. Plus, you must be tired after that,can’t ask you to drive now.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m gonna go pee. I’ll grab a change of sheets on my wayback.”

“Wait, put this back on,” He handed you the shirt you’d beenwearing when he arrived and you noticed his underpants were back in place.

Together you managed to get the sheets changed, and thencollapsed onto the bed, snuggling in close to each other.

“I don’t know if I want to know but can I ask how I compareto the guy you meant to text?”

“So much better. He usually leaves as soon as we’re done.”

“Maybe you should forget his number. Call me again.”

#my writing #my blurbs #gwilym lee smut #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #i.... #don't know what came over me with this one #i dint proof read it at all tho #and i got quite tired towards the end #so i hope there isnt any glaringly obvious mistakes lmao #i'm gonna go sleep now #but i'll write the rest of these tomorrow #whilstyouwalk

[heresathreebee]

Garrote part 9

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez x Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Word count: 3k words

Warning(s): Explicit (+18) | sibling angst, mention of past drug use, roleplay sex!, UNPROTECTED sex (wrap your willy before you get silly), clothed sex, dirty talk, oh uh minor voyeurism. Previous Masterlist Next

AN: No beta, all mistakes are my own. Why is it so goddamn difficult to apply gifs to a post. I promise I’ll sort the masterlist tonight! Also tags will be moved to the bottom under the cut. Let me know if you’d like to be added

Gif creator @padfootwantsatummyrub​ thank you!

Alicia agreed to meet him that same night, and he tried to be presentable, and though he couldn't hide the alcohol on his breath, he was miraculously clean. That was thanks to the girls, of course, he hadn't had a second to snort coke with all their attention and literal begging. His sister was out on a job– Healy had given them the name of the low level thug who stole Porsche. Kennedy belonged to Jason Micic's organization, but Alicia discovered the boy usually did his own jobs. Diego met her just a few miles from his place and watched her work. His presence seemed to make Jason's Right Hand man nervous. 

"Look miss," he had been calling her 'lady' sarcastically before he noticed Diego lurking around in the shadows, "I hear what you're saying and I promise we're gonna fix it. By this time tomorrow, nobody's ever gonna know that kid's name." 

"Good." Alicia took a drag from her cigarette and held out a hand. The man reached out to shake it, but she snatched his wrist and put the cherry out on his forearm. He screamed, lurching his arm out of her grasp and gaining a few claw marks in the process. "Make sure it never happens again, claro?" 

They left him cradling his arm and stalked over to the alleyway of a greasy midnight diner. Diego held the door open for her, instructing her guard with a look to wait outside (his guard did the same). Alicia picked a booth in the back and ordered whiskey and fries– the very mention of which made Diego's stomach growl. 

"What do you want, Diego?" Alicia was stoic, already a note of disappointment fell from her voice as if she expected something childish. 

He took a deep breath to collect himself. 

"I'm sorry, sister," he said. She raised an eyebrow, but he continued, "I've been reckless and stupid and I almost got us caught because of it. You said those fucking pigs wouldn't have had anything on us except for my gun, and I can't let that happen again. So until we cross the border… no more coke." 

Alicia was, understandably, surprised. "No more coke? You think you can handle that, Diego?" 

His eyes were hard as stone– determined. "For us? Yes." 

His sister relaxed into the red cushions of the booth. Her eyes searched his– for mockery, for tricks, for falsehoods– until her jaw tightened and some raw expression flashed that Diego didn't know how to read. 

"On our mother's grave," he vowed. The trust Alicia was giving him now could not be squandered. It filled him with determination and a desire to be redeemed in her head. On our mother's grave. 

She hugged him. After sitting in perfect, tense silence while he ate all the fries and took a sip of her whiskey, as they were walking back out the door, she hugged him. He felt like a kid again. He felt like he had when their mother had passed away. Those were the only times she had hugged her brother, and it left him feeling raw and exposed like a nerve ending. His head drifted as he drove home and he swiped a tear from his cheek. 

I can do this, he decided. For us. 

It was nearly dawn by the time he got back to the penthouse. The cityscape was always bright at night, but there were a few precious hours in the evening and the morning when enough lights went out that made the city feel truly peaceful. Diego slipped into bed, barely managing to kick off his shoes before falling asleep watching the flurries of driven snow fly past his window. 

~

Someone was jiggling the doorknob. Diego had just enough strength to turn his head and look at the clock to read the time was 5:40 AM. The door to his bedroom opened violently as someone fell in. He lifted his head groggily and recognized the pretty kitten heels hanging from the brown arm with a death grip on the door knob. Jazmine pulled herself up with great difficulty, swaying on her feet like a drunk and slowly maneuvering the door to close behind her. Her half lidded eyes landed on Diego and she smiled. 

"Hey." She sounded hoarse and slurred. "I didn't think you'd actually be here…" 

Diego groaned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to sit up just a bit. "You asked me to be here. What do you want?" 

Something like sickness flashed over her face but only for a second. Her brow smoothed with determination and she sauntered with purpose to the side of his bed. Jazmine pulled his hair lightly and elicited a grunt from him. 

"I saw Haagen last night," she sighed. "When I left, I got a cab and got drunk and… well, here I am." 

Diego had a hard time focusing on her words, what with the gentle petting of his hair causing distraction, but he understood the unspoken story hidden between the lines. He rested a hand on top of her thigh and felt her twitch under his touch but not away from it. 

"If you're not too tired…" Her soft hand slid down, down, down. Stroking over the side of his neck and the open collar of his shirt, caressing his chest and pressing into the plain of his stomach until it mirrored his own touch on her thigh. She even gave him a squeeze which caused him to twitch as she had. "I could use a nice massage." 

Diego felt himself smirk involuntarily. She had his blood pumping now and pushing out the grogginess of a near sleepless night. He squeezed her back in answer but made no move to sit up or do anything else. 

On Jazmine's part, she couldn't take her eyes off of the man. There was something about the calmness and the plain white shirt that made him seem altogether a different man. He didn't look like a drug lord right now– he looked like somebody's husband. Maybe even somebody's dad. She could put that thought to good use…

"You like roleplaying, Diego?" His eyes had drifted shut but one opened curiously. "I can start." 

"Every girl likes doctor and nurse," he mumbled almost to himself. 

Jazmine shook her head. "I've got something else in mind." 

She stood up and tossed her shoes to the side. Only as she was taking it off did Diego notice she was wearing a t-shirt over her dress (in his defense, they were the same color). What she wore beneath was modest, something she could pass off in a church, which was a far cry from the little number she had worn to the club. Jazmine started her story by removing his belt with an agonizingly slow pace. 

"You," she said, tapping the buckle, "are a 9 to 5 office jockey who loves his parents and makes a decent living wage." 

"So sexy," he drawled sarcastically. 

"And I–" she ripped the belt from the loops of his pants eagerly and in one motion, "– am your wife." 

Diego's voice dropped. "Keep going." 

"I take care of the kids and our three story suburban house." She unbuttoned his pants with one hand, struggling and constantly bumping into his junk just to drive him crazy. "And we're so busy with everything we haven't had time to ourselves since our second kid. But guess what?" 

The button finally popping forced air out of Diego's lung, and he pulled his pants down himself as he became impatient. Jazmine was intent on keeping control and straddled his hips with force. His hands found their way up her skirt with ease and he fingered the strap of her panties as he waited for the other shoe to drop. "It's their first day of kindergarten." 

Diego's lust addled brain took a second to catch up. It was harder to do with her warm core putting pressure on his hardening cock, but he managed, and when he did he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are you saying we haven't had sex in five years?" 

Jazmine hummed. She ground down on his hips, and he couldn't help but buck into her, feeling rock hard and ready. The woman slipped into her role like she was born to it, donning a face of longing with just a pouting lip. 

"I've missed you so much, baby..." 

God, he could not wait to get naked– this would just have to do. Diego sat up until he was chest to chest with 'his wife' and slipped his hands into his boxers to free his cock from its confines. Jazmine wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held onto him for dear life as he pushed her panties to the side and slipped a finger in. 

"So wet, baby," he groaned, "estas listo?" 

American girls loved hearing his Spanish and Jazmine was no different judging by the way she shuddered. He had to do everything by feeling since she refused to let go of him. She slid onto his cock like she belonged there, and although it was truthfully the first time, it felt like the first in a long time. 

Jazmine gasped when he finally bottomed out. Without a condom, she could feel every single vein and ridge of his thick length wedged into her pussy, and just the slightest movement caused the greatest sensations. Diego's warm breath fanned over her chest and she wished she could reach the zipper on the back of the dress to offer her nipples to him. He was content, it seemed, to try and taste them from the outside, and she squeezed his cock as a reward. 

"Oh fuck me." 

It wasn't meant as a request but Diego obliged her nonetheless. He gripped the soft curves between her hips and her waist and used them to bounce her in his lap, not too fast and not too deep, limited by the position but also like he wanted to keep her close to him. His watering mouth soaked through her dress and her lacy bra and when he pulled away to attack the other it left the last cold. 

The sweet burn of Diego's ministrations allowed Haagen's to wash away like footprints on a sandy beach. All that mattered now was Diego, and the unexpectedly tender way he fucked her like she really was the mother of his children. It made her ache where it shouldn't have, deep in her chest, but she didn't fight it and soon the tightening coil in her core won over her attention. 

Diego moaned with his mouth still on her and Jazmine keened in response, wrapping her fingers in his hair and dragging his head up to look at her. His pupils were blown wide but the light from the window still illuminated the deep brown ring of his eyes in a way that was so hypnotic she couldn't look away. 

His lip curled (of course) and the unhinged mischief of his former self shone through. "Want another..." 

She couldn't tell if it was a question for her or a statement from him. He kept her bouncing on his cock as his eyes drifted down to her mouth and back up again. Every time she came down it was harder and deeper than before as she let her whole weight crash into him. "Put another baby in you, huh, muñeca? Make it three…" 

That should not have been as hot as it was. Jazmine whined involuntarily and put both of her hands on his chest to push him onto his back, stalling their impeccable rhythm for a second as she basked in how deep his dick really went. 

He could do it. For real– his cock was naked in her pussy and he had the length to do it better than most. Oh fuck, it's curved, she thought, wishing she was fucking him the other way around. Can't stop now. Can't wait. 

Jazmine began to ride Diego and listened to all the filthy things that fell from his lips. No wonder I married you. 

"Yeah, querida? You like this dick? Want me to cum inside and paint a pretty picture?" 

"Yesss," she hissed. "Oh god. Fuck…" 

"That's it, mama, keep fucking yourself. Don't need my help, do you? Got it all figured out. Put a baby in you and watch you grow again…" 

Jazmine gasped, she was so close, hanging right on the edge. "Fuck, daddy…" 

She didn't even know she'd said the magic word, but the pair came together, and hard. Diego's grip on her waist was bruising and merciless, he filled her up with all he had and then some, and just to make it extraordinary, he made her hips grind into him for good measure. Jazmine's mouth dropped low and saliva dribbled out and dripped into his shirt, her hands tearing a button off as her pussy clenched down on his pulsating cock for a true flood. She was seeing stars when the torrent of endorphins finally drew back, and she collapsed onto his chest, boneless and gasping for air. 

When their breathing had finally slowed down, Jazmine moved just enough of her weight to make them both comfortable without adding distance– for her sake as much as his. There was sweat cooling in the small of her back, Diego’s chest rose and fell beneath her head, and the memory of Haagen faded away like static on a television set. 

“So,” Diego hummed, “I take it that was a bit of a fantasy of yours, eh?” 

Jazmine’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Three kids, a house, and a spouse?” She thought about it for a moment and shrugged, “doesn’t everyone, in their own way?” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

"I will admit it was probably most definitely brought on by this," she plucked at his white shirt, smirking with pride at the missing button and pocketing it in her drenched bra. "You look like… well I don't know exactly but this shirt screams normal and I figured you couldn't possibly own something like that." 

Diego hummed but offered no explanation for the unusual attire. He could probably go incognito through a crowd and never be seen with that thing. Now uncomfortable, Jazmine sat up and flung off her dress, admiring the red handprints on her sides. She lay back down into his embrace and chuckled. 

"What?" 

She started drawing circles on his chest with a finger. “I wasn’t sure you could get off without, you know, an audience.” 

Diego shrugged his shoulders (jostling her head in the process) and she could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “of course I can come without an audience. It’s a preference, not a medical condition.” 

“Oh right, sure. Sure.” The warm hand on her back began to slide, tracing up her sides and just short of cupping her face, she felt his fingers graze her earlobe. A groan of irritation ripped through her throat. “I guess you did get an audience after all.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean exactly?” 

Jazmine took her sweet time answering him as she rolled up and over top of him to get to the other side of the bed and to touch the room light remote on the nightstand. Now brighter in the slick black design of Diego’s bedroom, she leaned over him on her elbow and pointed. 

Directly at her fake hearing aid. 

Diego stared for a moment before his cheeks puffed and he blew a raspberry trying to hold his laugh. It exploded from his chest like a bark and his entire body curled into it, which in turn warmed Jazmine to join in. For as cool and unbothered as Agent Healy portrayed himself, there was no way he could have been able to ignore the sounds on the other end of the listening device by the sheer volume of the activities on the receiver. 

Ever the exhibitionist, Jazmine was not surprised to find Diego’s hand pressing into the back of her neck to draw her closer. She rolled her eyes when he leaned forward to speak directly into the microphone, “like what you heard, Healy?” 

The answer came in an instant. Just as Jazmine was debating whether to settle back into the bed or to get up, Diego’s phone rang. The man was having far too much fun as he pushed her under him and reached for the nightstand even though she was closer. His knee fell between her sensitive thighs as he checked the screen. Despite everything, he still looks at her with disbelief as Healy’s contact glares back at him. 

Healy’s voice sounded somehow right coming from a speaker. It matched the sometimes robotic way he delivered them lines about his purpose or his plan. “Yes, Mr. Jimenez, I am always on the edge of my seat when you make a pass at my informant.” 

The expression only flashes for a second across his face, but for a moment Diego looked as uncomfortable as Jazmine felt. It was strange, knowing the name and the face of the person who was surveilling you. Knowing they hear everything all of the time and forgetting, only to remember and wonder if you’ve done something to warrant the shame and embarrassment that floods through you upon recollection. Jazmine was more often than not completely unaware of the thing until it beeped its death notes. She would have to remember to set a schedule for charging it every night, as Healy had suggested before. 

“It’s fascinating the things people get up to when they think they’re alone,” Healy continued, “but if it is any consolation to you, Miss. Mann, I am accustomed to turning a blind eye– or ear, I suppose– to your nonessential activities.” 

Well at least that was something. Diego hung up (or Healy did, she wasn’t paying attention), then turned to look her in the eye with a mischievous glint. 

“What?” 

“Jazz Mann.” 

“Shut the– I’m going to fucking strangle you.”

~~~~~

Alrighty, I think this was pretty successful! But know that it’s all downhill from here (OK, mostly downhill from here). 

@1zashreena1​ @kid-from-new-zealand​ @nicke0115​ @girlpornparadise​ @mental-bycatch​ 

#Diego Jimenez #Diego Jimenez imagine #Starz Power #Diego Jimenez x OC #three bees writing #🐝🐝🐝✒ #Garrote

[bookgeekgrrl]

Sunday reading recap (6-Jun-21)

THINGS I WATCHED

Midsomer Murders: The Stitcher Society (s22, e 2)

Stuntwomen: The Untold Hollywood Story - this was really great but definitely made my rage/despair/grief feelings spike due to all the sexism/racism - not a surprise but still sucks.

Community: “Remedial Chaos Theory” (s3, e 5)

Agatha Raisin: s1, e 3-8

IN THE HEIGHTS - loved what they made here! glad they used the medium to do some creative staging for some of the musical numbers. every casting choice was perfection. 

Agatha Raisin: The Wizard of Evesham (s2, e1) - the absolute highlight of this was James Lance (Trent Crimm, The Independent) playing an edgy hairstylist who seduced older women & then blackmailed them & then got very poisoned.

Ted Lasso: s1, e 1-3 (3rd time!)

Lucifer: s3, e 21

New Girl: s2, e 6-7

THINGS I READ

👂 The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut Universe #1) (Mary Robinette Kowal, author & narrator) - So, this is a really good book. I like the alt-history set up and the first part of the story with the disaster unfolding is incredibly gripping. I liked Elma - I loved how brilliant she was, how relatable her anxiety was, how tenacious she was. I loved how supportive and loving and physical her relationship was with her husband. But honestly, if I want to be frustrated and enraged and full of despair about sexism and racism in the space race and in the world in general, I don't really need fiction for that. So this was a really excellent book that I quite often did not actually enjoy reading, due to the aforementioned rage and despair and frustration. But the parts that WERE enjoyable were so compelling! The worldbuilding is incredible! And ultimately there was a triumphant end.

We Interrupt This Broadcast (Lady Astronaut Universe #0.5) (Mary Robinette Kowal) - though set BEFORE The Calculating Stars, this short story should definitely be read after it, otherwise the full impact of the OH FUCKING FUCKness of the story is lost.

💜 and the river flows beneath your skin (Deisderium) - 114K, Stucky - modern magical boarding school AU with soul marks, accidental soul bonding, enemies to friends to lovers and a semi-sentient magical house! like a shopping list of things I love!

👂 Apple Cider Slaying (A Cider Shop Mystery #1) (Julie Anne Lindsey, author; Amy Melissa Bentley, narrator) - the mystery in this was very satisfying. The MC was only super annoying 40% of the time, and overall I liked most of the supporting characters. I did almost ragequit when there was a big huge passage where the 28 yr old MC is bemoaning the fact that while her grandparents raised her & are the only family she has, she has a different last name than them because her absentee mother wouldn't allow her grandfather to adopt her. Which, yeah, sucks while you are still a minor BUT AS AN ADULT, LEGALLY CHANGING YOUR NAME IS A PRETTY STANDARD THING YOU CAN DO!

💜 The Queer Principles of Kit Webb (Cat Sebastian) - a new Cat Sebastian is a fucking gift. Just a wonderful, soft story about a grumpy outlaw and an aristocrat undergoing a profound world view shift. Also with some exciting highway robbery.

AND ALSO THESE ESSAYS I REALLY LIKED

Individualism Is Still Sabotaging the Pandemic Response [Ed Yong, The Atlantic] - “What is America’s goal—to end the pandemic, or to suppress it to a level where it mostly plagues communities that privileged individuals can ignore?”

The Rise of Elevated Stupidity [Dave Holmes, Esquire] - “A person can present their ideas with such eloquence and erudition that they fool themselves into thinking those ideas are not dumb. This is a kind of smart that is indistinguishable from stupid. It is Elevated Stupidity, and we’re soaking in it.  Stupidity is saying two plus two equals five. Elevated Stupidity is doing the same thing, except you invoke Pythagoras, decry cancel culture when someone corrects you, then get a seven-figure book deal and a speaking tour out of it.”

#sunday reading recap #bookgeekgrrl's reading habits #lady astronaut series #the calculating stars #the queer principles of kit webb #cat sebastian #cat s is an autobuy author #fanfic ftw #british comfort murders #stuntwomen: the untold hollywood story #in the heights movie #ted lasso #ed yong does excellent science writing #fan makers are a *gift*

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: The Mother Chapter 3 - The Father

Warnings: Some swearing

Word count: 2k

Where it all began. 

Summary: Mandy finally meets The Father Joseph Seed, and he gives her an offer she has to accept no matter what.

Guest OCs: None

Guest Characters: Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Archangel Raphael [mentioned], God/Chuck [mentioned]

Note: This takes place in 2012.

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

It’s been a few weeks since Mandy Winchester had arrived in Hope County.

Joseph had a few of his followers keep an eye on her. 

God told him about her. That she was the one. The one that will guide the Project to the New World.

She passed through Hope County to get some gas, some grub and sleep. But before that Archangel Raphael had told her about Joseph. That she needed to protect him no matter what.

She had a few encounters with a couple of peggies but of course they didn't get to see her face because the second they broke into her hotel room she planted a bullet in their heads. 

She's a professional hunter, you know demons, vampires and shit but of course no one knows of her job. 

When Joseph found out about the hotel incident, he knew that it was The Mother.

God had told him about her arrival. 

He couldn’t approach her right away. 

The Voice told him to be patient, and that he’ll tell him when the time was right.

Raphael had told Mandy to wait until he approached her, and go with it from there.

Again no matter what happens, Joseph must be protected. 

Then that day came, Mandy was at the Spread Eagle bar with Mary May, Grace Armstrong, and Nick Rye having some drinks. 

When 3 cultists approached her while she's sitting at the bar. 

Everyone in the bar sees them, and are reaching for their weapons. 

"The Father wishes to speak with you" one of them says to her. 

She turns around, forgetting about why she was there in the first place, and says. 

"I don't know who that is. But if he wants to speak with me he can tell me for himself". 

He didn't take kindly to this, forgetting Joseph’s orders.

He aggressively grabs her arm, pulling her away from the bar.

“Let me go asshole!!!” she yells. 

She punches him in the face, knocking him out. 

The other 2 pull their guns out, unsure if they should aim at her because of Joseph’s orders. 

Everyone else in the bar pulls out their guns, and aims at the other 2. 

I mean everyone, Mary May, Nick, Grace, the cook, and a few locals having drinks. 

Mandy who is shaking her hand after punching him says. 

"If The Father wants to speak with me then I will go myself" she says.

“Mandy, you don’t have to go. We have no problem killing these peggie fucks” Mary says to her. 

She replies, “No it’s fine Mary. I just wanna know what The Father has to say to me, and if I need backup, I’ll let you know”.

She leaves the bar, and gets into her truck.

Mandy has learned a lot about the Project at Eden's Gate from the locals

She knows they meet up in a church in the middle island next to Dutch's region, and she’s also 100% sure she knows the eldest brother Jacob because of her husband Joel. 

She knows Joseph needs to be protected because Raphael told her to, and she hasn’t seen him at all. Not even a photo of the man.

Entering the center island, it's all fenced up, and has barbed wire. 

She makes the only left turn down the road to Joseph's church. 

As she pulls closer to the property, she sees the front gate is open. 

A sign in front that says "The Church of Eden's Gate".

"What the fuck am I doing?" she asks herself, “Is this really worth it?!”. 

She steps out of her truck, and approaches the church slowly. 

All the Cultists on the property eyeballing her like she's a piece of meat. 

This isn't the first time a bunch of hillbilly fucks eyeball, and stared her. 

When she gets within 10 feet of the church. 

A man with no shirt on, tattoos, beard, his hair tied up, rosary wrapped around his hand, and yellow Aviators steps out. 

She stops dead in her tracks the second the church doors open. 

“That must be Joseph” she says to herself, “He’s quite a handsome man”. 

He gives her an intense stare that makes her spine go numb. 

Her stomach feels like it's twisting, and turning in knots.

She doesn't say anything, she stands there, trying to make herself look intimidating and fearless. 

This 5'3, 135Ibs, 40-42 year old woman who can knock out a fully grown, bushy bearded, crazy eyed hillbilly Cultist with one punch. 

Tries to make herself look terrifying even though she's had her encounters with monsters in the past.

Joseph looks up at the sky, and he softly says. 

"I have heard so much about you". 

Confused, Mandy doesn't know what to say or do, she stands there and hopes Joseph continues with whatever he has to say to her. 

It's almost like he can read her mind, he steps closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders and says. 

"He told me you would come. God said that the The Mother will arrive''. 

“Damn it Chuck!!” she says in her head. 

After a few minutes of not saying anything, Mandy finally speaks up. 

Taking a deep breath. 

"T-the Mother?!?" she asks, confused. 

Joseph nods his head, "Yes" he says softly. 

He places his forehead against hers, his hands on both sides on her head. 

Confusion drowns her mind. 

Joseph moves his head away from hers, and says. 

"The Voice told me you would come. The Mother will show herself. It would be your face". 

He places a soft gentle kiss on her forehead, and pulls her into a tight embrace. 

Mandy, with no other choice, hugs him back. Her hands placed on his chest. 

Hoping he would release her soon because she is beyond confused, and will need to process what is happening. 

Even though Raphael told her, she had to do this. She was still confused by all of this.

After what felt like hours, he lets her go.

The first real question she asks is "Why me?". 

He places his hands on her head again. 

His thumbs rubbing the soft skin on her cheeks. 

Looking into her brown eyes as if he was looking into her soul, he says. 

"It's all part of God's plan, he brought you to me. To be my other half". 

Mandy hasn't been romanticized, or been spoken to like that in several years. 

The only ones she had left in her life are her 2 daughters.

Whom she lost custody of 4 months ago. 

Hearing Joseph's words brings some peace to Mandy knowing that there is someone who cares about her other than her family.

Even though she doesn't know him that well herself. 

He knows her very well, like he's known her for years. 

She knows he needs to be protected, but the other feeling she’s getting is different. 

If she’s developing feelings for him then that's not a good thing.

That’ll put a target on him, and make her look like a traitor to citizens of Hope County that are being tormented by this man, and his followers.

She knows he's not possessed by a demon, or any sort of spirit because her hands are placed on his bare chest, and she's wearing iron rings that were soaked in holy water. 

He holds her in his arms. His left hand on the back of her head, and his other on her upper back.

She looks back, and sees about 15-20 of his followers watching them.

Like they were all waiting for her answer. 

He lets go of her, his arms still wrapped around her, and asks “What do you say?!”.

Unsure, and not knowing what she’s gonna get herself into.

“Umm, can I have a few days to think about it?. Then I’ll give you a straightforward answer”

He nods his head, “Of course”, and he plants another kiss on her forehead. 

He has his followers make a path for her to go back to her truck.

She gets in, and drives back to the Spread Eagle.

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

She pulls up to the bar, still not sure what her answer is.

Mary May, Nick, Grace and Pastor Jerome sitting at the bar.

The moment Mandy walks in the bar Mary immediately asks.

“What did Joseph want?!?”.

“Umm, he uhh” she takes a deep breath, “He asked me if I wanted to be The Mother of Eden’s Gate”.

They all look at her in disbelief, then at each other.

“Well you said no didn’t ya?” the cook from the kitchen asks.

“Well of course she said no” Mary says, “That be my answer right off the fucking bat”.

“What did you say when he asked you?!” Nick asks

“I told him that I would think about it” Mandy responds.

“You’re not thinking about joining those peggie fuckers?!?” Grace asks.

Mandy sits down at the bar, and sighs “On the drive here, it got me thinking, and I thought it would be a good plan. That I say yes to joining them, but on one condition they can’t torment none of you guys, and not just you guys. I mean everyone in Hope County. No stealing properties, businesses, killing innocent people, and forcing them to join the cult”.

They all exchanged looks, and after several minutes of silence Mary spoke up.

“It’s a great plan and all, but do you really want to be a part of their shit?!?”.

“It looks like I don’t have a choice. If I say yes, I give them my piece and they accept it, then you guys are free. But if I say yes, give them my piece and they say reject it”.

“Then it was nice knowing you Mandy!” the cook says from the kitchen.

“I asked Joseph if he can give me a few days to think about it, and he said it was okay”.

“So what are you gonna do?!?” Nick asks.

“That’s the thing. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Either way there’s a chance I might end up dead” she replies. 

“We know you’ll make the right choice Mandy” Jerome says. 

“I hope so too” she says, and gets up from her seat to go outside.

“Where you going?!” Mary asks.

“I have to make a few phone calls” she replies, and leaves to her truck.

She gets into her truck, and drives to a secluded part of Holland Valley.

Behind the Lamb of God church.

She gets out of her truck, and prays to Raphael.

“Hey Raph, it's me Mandy. I need your help, so get down here ASAP”

After a few minutes the sound of wings fluttering behind her. 

“Okay, Raph I really need- Gabriel?!?!” she says before turning around, and seeing a different Archangel.

“Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. You were expecting Raphael” he says, sarcastically. 

Stammering over her words. Unable to even two words together. 

Wha-? Where? Why?!?”.

“Are you gonna finish any of those sentences?!?” he asks with a snarky tone.

“Where’s Raphael?!?” she asks, irritated.

“He sent me on behalf of him” he says.

“What?!. Why?!” she exclaims.

“Okay Man, I’m gonna need you to take a chill pill, and let me explain on behalf of my big bro” he says, again with a snarky tone. 

“Okay, okay, fine. What was he gonna say?!” she says, hands on her hips. Calming down a little.

“He says. Just to summarize it” Gabriel says as he pulls out a piece of paper, unfolding it, clearing his throat in an overly dramatic way, and reads it without even looking at it. 

“Just say yes!!!!. Do what you were sent here to do!!!!”.

He balls up the paper, and throws it at her head. “Do the job, and get it over with!!!”. 

Mandy scoffs, “Really Gabe?!. These people are my friends, they’re being tormented by this man and his followers. And if I join Joseph, and his Project I would be betraying them!!”.

Gabriel shrugs, “Well it looks like you should join them to protect your human friends, or not. This isn’t my problem. It’s yours. Peace”. He gives her the peace sign before disappearing. 

“No, Gabe no!!!” she exclaimed, and he disappears.

She groans loudly in frustration, and looks up at the night sky. 

“Seriously?!? Come on Chuck!!!. Fuck!!!”

Mandy knows what she has to do.

In order to protect her new friends, their businesses, and their families.

She has to say yes, and be The Mother of Eden’s Gate.

Hopefully they’ll come to terms on her offer. 

#far cry 5 #joseph seed #fc5 #the seed family #my ocs #joseph seed x mandy winchester #mandy winchester #my writings #supernatural gabriel #supernatural raphael #supernatural x far cry 5 #my supernatural ocs #my far cry 5 ocs #my crossovers #my crossover shit #john seed #jacob seed #faith seed #eden's gate #eden's gate: the mother #my series #fc5 joseph seed #my oc writing

[horansqueen]

AM Conversations : chapter 55

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA 

(FINAL CHAPTER)

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34 || CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40 || CHAPTER 41 || CHAPTER 42 || CHAPTER 43 || CHAPTER 44 || CHAPTER 45 || CHAPTER 46 || CHAPTER 47 || CHAPTER 48 || CHAPTER 49 || CHAPTER 50 || CHAPTER 51 || CHAPTER 52 || CHAPTER 53 || CHAPTER 54

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -5.2k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- if you want to be notified the sequel is posted, message me!

- note for this chapter: i mean, this is it. this is the end. not really because you all know theres a sequel but its still super big to me. ive been writing for 22 years and its the very first time i finish a real story. im super proud of this story and it has over 220k words, which is something i’ve obviously never done before. im also super happy to post this last chapter on the same day Niall’s second album comes out. idk why i just think its cool lmao! 

i would appreciate so so soooo so much your comments for this chapter but also what you think will happen in the sequel or what you want to happen in the sequel. also, anything about the characters, the storyline, the ending... honestly, whatever comes to your mind about this story, good or bad, comments or suggestions... please send it to me! thank you!!!

okay so here it is. :D

Chapter 55 : Her FINAL chapter

OLIVIA

I ended up rushing outside and walking as fast as I could. It took me a few seconds to realize it was pouring outside but it didn't really matter. Nothing really mattered. I was crying but I was still walking fast, letting the tears fall down my cheeks and the sobs getting out of my mouth without shame. It was only after about 10 minutes of walk that i realized I didn't even take my car but when that realization came to me, I still didn't give a fuck.

I was mad at Niall for hurting me and mad at myself for making him the center of my universe for so long. I was so lost without him. I didn't know where to go or what to do. I didn't know who I was, who I wanted to be... I didn't know how to breathe or how to live. I was so pissed at myself for giving one person so much power over me and I hated it. Niall could live without me, he could breathe, he knew who he was and what he wanted, and he had proved it only a few minutes ago. And that made me realize that I was completely wrong about love. It isn't to make one with the person you love. Your lover shouldn't be your other half. Even if the thought sounded incredibly romantic, when you took the time to think about it, it was ridiculous. I was someone without Niall, I just didn't know who yet.

That simple concept made my heart jump in my chest and I started running. I ran fast, feeling my backpack hit the bottom of my back with every step. I ran as fast as I could until my throat burned, until my legs hurt. The sound of my feet on the cement as it echoed on the walls of the houses around seemed to go in rhythm with the beatings of my heart and when I'd run in a pool of water, I heard it splash on me until the bottom of my sweatpants were soaked. In fact, when I stopped running, I was completely drenched and totally out of breath. I stopped because the person I was looking for was standing only a few meters away from me. He was panting too, I could see his chest raise up and down quickly as he tried to catch his breath and my eyes roamed on him until I noticed locks of his hair stuck on his forehead because of the rain. He was soaked too and I swallowed hard. Seeing him so vulnerable made me realize that's probably how I looked too. I felt my own hair stick to my face and my shirt to my back.

"Olivia."

He had talked a bit louder than usual, trying to make his voice reach me despite the distance and the noise of the rain hitting the paving of the sidewalk where we were both standing.

"I was... I was going to see you." he explained, still panting. "I just... I needed to talk to you. I was sitting on the couch and I just... I rushed out."

My legs had brought me to him while his were also bringing him to me and that thought made me sob. I brought my hand to my mouth to stop it until I saw him start crying too. He was literally weeping in front of me and I wanted to run to him and take him in my arms but I was motionless, like stuck in quicksand.

"Olivia, I got a girl pregnant." he added even louder in-between sobs.

I kept staring at him and swallowed with difficulty again before my lips parted.

"Niall broke up with me."

I don't know how long we stayed just away from each other, standing in the rain but at some point, I felt a shiver run across my back and after half a second, I was in his arms. He held me close, his arms wrapped around my neck and his forehead leaning on the top of my head. He smelled good, he felt great and when he cried again, I squeezed him tighter against me.

The rain kept falling over us but neither of us cared. We just held onto each other while everything was falling apart around us and we were each other's only hope. He brought me inside after a while and let me borrow some clothes, leaving me alone in his room to get changed. I took my clothes off and used the towel he gave me to dry my body. I quickly put his sweatpants and shirt on and started rubbing the towel in my hair as I walked very slowly around his room.

It was modern and classy, just like him, and I always liked the nice and soft carpet he had picked. I let my feet brush on it as I reached the other side of the bed, suddenly curious. There was a bunch of pictures in his room, pictures of his family and friends but there was one small frame that was turned face down on the bedside table. I took it and stared for a few seconds at the smiling faces of Louis and Eleanor, feeling myself tear up again. Two love stories were now ruined and over and I didn't understand what exactly had happened to us.

I sighed and put the frame back exactly where it was before going to the bathroom and hanging the towels behind the door. I came back to the room and smiled slightly as I pushed a pile of dirty clothes on the side and went back to the living room. Louis had made tea and mine was waiting for me on the coffee table. He was sitting down and I noticed he had changed too. His hair, unlike mine, was almost dry already and when he felt my presence, he turned to me and made a quick head movement to incite me to get closer. I breathed in and joined him on the couch, taking the mug with both hands to warm myself a bit before bringing it to my lips.

"Lady grey." I whispered, the left corner of my lips rising a bit.

"With a cloud of milk and no sugar." he added. "Your favorite."

I turned to him and tilted my head.

"Sugar ruins tea." I pointed out as he answered my smile.

"It does, darlin'."

I loved Louis. Everything was so simple with him, even more than with Harry. Perhaps the fact that Louis and I were only friends helped too. I was never only friends with Harry, and I was never only friends with Niall. There were always some romantic or lust feelings involved. I stared at Louis and blinked a few times before taking a few more sips of my tea. The hot beverage warmed my whole body but couldn't get rid of the persistent ache in my heart, unfortunately.

"Do you think it'll always hurt like that?"

"Yes."

It was not the answer I expected and he probably read it in my face because he moved a bit to sit better and face me. I was desperate for human contact and I just wanted to cuddle him but I waited, the fingers of one of my hands playing nervously with the fabric of the couch.

"He's your soulmate just like El is my soulmate." he explained and I could swear I heard his voice crack. "It'll hurt forever."

I swallowed again but felt a tear run down my cheek without wiping it off.

"What are we gonna do, Louis?"

He looked down at his lap and sighed loud. We were both sad and lost and we had no idea what to do with our pain. I moved a bit closer and grabbed his hand on the back of the couch. Immediately, he squeezed my fingers with his.

"I don't know, Liv." he admitted, shaking his head. "And I don't think we'll find out tonight."

I nodded, keeping his hand in mine, as a bunch of thoughts invaded my mind. Would I see Niall again? Would I even be able to be around him without crying or hurting? That didn't seem likely. How would I react when i'd see him with an other girl? Whether I still kept him in my life or not, i'll know about the girls he dates since it'll be all over the net. Niall is discreet, it's true, but he can't hide forever. Plus, we have a few common friends, including Louis.

"Why didn't you fight?" I heard, taking me out of my thoughts. "That's not you Olivia, you always fight for what you want."

I sent him a sad smile and shrugged, running my thumb on top of his hand as I stared at it.

"I saw his face, Louis. It was not a random decision. It was well-thought. It's something he had in mind for a while. I couldn't have done anything about it."

An other moment of silence and I licked my lips.

"Is it Briana?" I wondered in a low tone, looking up only to see him nod slowly. "Is she gonna keep it?"

"Yes."

My heart jumped in my chest. "When did you find out?"

"A week ago."

I raised my eyebrows up in surprise, a bit hurt that he hadn't told me before but I also knew I was the first person he told and that made me feel special. I shouldn't make this about me, it was selfish of me, but it felt good nonetheless to have someone who trusts me, loves me and wants me in his life.

"What are you gonna do?"

Louis sighed again and moved on his seat without letting go of my hand.

"The best I can." he shook his head, still avoiding my eyes. "I'll be the best father in the world."

His answer made me smile and I tilted my head, staring at him. There was something about Louis, something strong and rough. He was a hard-shell with a soft core and it was probably the only thing we didn't really have in common.

"There's no doubt you'll be the best father on the planet."

His lips curled as he kept staring down and I started thinking about Niall again and that time we had talked about having kids. I felt something stir in my stomach and swallowed again to get rid of the nauseous feeling hitting me. I didn't want a family with anyone else and I closed my eyes, trying to mourn the perfect life I've always wanted.

"I wish I had kissed him one last time." I whispered, feeling more tears coming to my eyes. "I missed that chance. I miss how he tastes, how he smells. I miss him."

"You would always hope for 'one last time', Liv. You'd always want an other 'one last kiss'."

He was right but I didn't tell him, instead, I looked down and sniffed before licking my lips.

"I don't even know why he broke up with me. He just said he was not ready to commit, that he knew we'd last forever and he was not ready for that. To me, it makes no fucking sense. When you love someone, you don't care about the other people you could sleep with, you don't care about your freedom because you are free." I tried to explain, getting a bit worked up. "I didn't stop him from doing anything, did I? Was I a crazy, jealous, controlling girlfriend?"

This time, I looked up when I felt Louis move closer. His eyes found mine and he blinked a few times, letting go of my hand to cup my face. I could feel his breath on my face and my lips parted.

"Some people are ready to do anything to prove to themselves that they're not trapped." he let out slowly and in a low tone. "It's on them. Not on you."

My eyes roamed on his face and my heart skipped a beat. I loved that man so much and he deserved so much better than all this pain. I felt his thumbs brush gently on my skin and nodded slowly. Louis always said what he thought when you asked him for an opinion and he always told you things you didn't want to hear but needed to. That, we had in common, that's why this friendship was so real and raw, and also why we got along so well. We were also not touchy or easily offended, which helped.

He moved back a bit and I felt his fingers brush my face as they slid down.

"I know we'd normally get drunk off our asses, but i'm too tired to get pissed. Tomorrow?" His eyebrows raised up and I just nodded. "You can take my bed, it's more comfortable. I'll take the guest room."

"No Louis, it's fine I can-"

"Shut up, princess." he cut me quickly, frowning even more this time. "You take my bed and that's it."

I felt my lips curl and just nodded. He winked at me and smiled before getting up and I followed him slowly to his room. I watched him grab the covers and gripped his elbow quickly.

"Louis, I'm not disgusted by your sheets, you don't have to change them."

He sighed and looked at me for a few seconds before nodding.

"If you're hungry, you take anything in the kitchen, if you need meds or anything, it's in the bathroom. Basically, take anything you need okay? It's all good with me."

I nodded and he pushed the covers before I sat in bed. It took me a minute or two but I finally lied down and brought the blankets on me, feeling tears coming to my eyes again. I didn't want to be alone, it scared me like hell, and if I was about to cry all night, I didn't want to do it by myself.

"Goodnight, Olivia." he just said, turning the light off as he walked out.

Something jumped in my stomach and I sat up quickly.

"Louis!"

He turned around to look at me and our eyes met. I held my breath and licked my lips, unsure if he could see me in the dark but I could clearly see him because of the lights from the hall, illuminating him.

"Please, stay, okay?"

It seemed like I waited an hour just looking at him, waiting for him to reject me but in the end, he nodded and walked away. He turned the lights off and I watched his shadow walk back into the room. My eyes followed him as he got around the bed and under the covers with me. I turned his way and moved closer without touching him and he did the same as we remained silent. I blinked a few times until I got used to the darkness and finally sighed loud.

"Can we spoon?"

"We can spoon."

I turned around, untwisting my shirt and he waited until I stopped wiggling to wrap his arm around me. I closed my eyes and for a few seconds, I imagined I was in Niall's arms, in his bed, but the fantasy was hard to keep. The truth was, it didn't feel the same because Louis was not Niall. No one was Niall.

"I wish I was with El right now. I wish she was the one pregnant with my child." Louis whispered, probably trying to convince himself that the girl he was spooning was the girl he was in love with and not his best friend.

"I wish I was with Niall, right now. I wish he loved me more than his freedom."

"I don't know how to deal with the pain, Livi." he whispered, his voice cracking despite how low it was. "I don't know how to get back up and move forward."

"I wish I could help you but I don't know either."

"I just want to ease the pain." he let out quickly. "At first, getting drunk and high worked but the more I do it, the less it works. I could beg you, Livi, help me."

My heart started aching and I shut my eyes tight as I swallowed.

"I've always dealt with pain the same way, and it's a very very bad way, Louis." I confessed, shaking my head. "It's toxic."

"Tell me."

I rolled on my back and he stared down at me, his hand now laying on my stomach. I wanted to move it away from me but the way his pinky brushed against the skin of my stomach did something to me, something it really shouldn't do.

"I don't know, Louis."

"Does it work?" he asked, and despite how dark it was, I could see hope in his eyes.

"Mmhm." i just answered, now daring to talk.

"For how long?"

My lips parted and I shrugged. "A few hours, it depends."

"I'll take a few painless hours." he insisted. "Please."

Slowly, I reached for his hands under the covers and slid it up on my stomach. I couldn't believe I was doing that and I knew I risked a lot. I risked the only strong friendship I had left. Whether we did anything or not, it could make things awkward between us and that thought was scary as hell. I had lost Niall, I couldn't bare to lose Louis, too. Right before his hand reached my breasts, I pushed it away and shook my head. I was not ready to risk that.

"Forget it, it's a bad idea." I closed my eyes, trying to get my heartbeats back to a normal pace.

"Fuck no."

My heart skipped an other beat as it jumped in my chest and I felt his hand move back to my stomach. His fingers brushed on my skin and I felt my eyes flutter. I didn't know why, but I wanted this.

"That's how you deal?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Fuck the pain away?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"You said you slept with nine persons in your life but it wasn't true, right?"

Slowly, his hand traveled my stomach and I just shrugged slightly.

"Only nine that mattered." I explained in a whisper. "The others don't count. It doesn't count if I don't know your name."

"You know my name." he murmured, moving his face a bit closer. "Do you want to make it ten?"

I sent him a smile and chuckled very low. Fuck yes I wanted it, but the fact that he did too was laughable.

"You can close your eyes and pretend i'm someone else." I just let out, licking my lips again. "I won't be mad, I know i'm not your type."

"Who said that?"

I brought my hand to his face and pressed my palm on his stubble.

"I've seen the girls you fancy." I shrugged again. "It doesn't matter, it's just to push the pain away for a while, yea? We'll be best friends again tomorrow, right?"

"And we'll never talk about it again if that's what you want."

I laughed a bit, feeling suddenly nervous, and moved my hand in his hair. I felt my fingers slip in it as I pushed his head my way gently.

"I heard i'm not so bad of a lay so, just leave the lights off and you'll be fine."

This time, he's the one who laughed.

"Are you gonna imagine i'm Niall?" he asked, making me frown.

"No!" I let out a bit too loud. "I want to forget about him for an hour, that would be counterproductive."

"Then why do you think i'd want to imagine someone else?" he asked again. "You think so low of yourself all the fooking time, Olivia."

By then, his hand had reached my breasts and I noticed it was under my shirt. He ran his hand on one and I felt my inner thighs throb so hard I almost whimpered.

"Okay, we can try, and if it doesn't work..."

"It's already working."

My lips parted slightly and my eyes roamed on his face. He moved closer but it's only when his lips pressed on mine that I closed my eyes. Slowly and gently, his lips parted mine and I never thought I needed affection as bad as I did. It had been only a few hours since Niall broke up with me but I felt so lonely and craving this intimacy with someone was not something that should surprise me. Louis was not anyone, anyway, and sharing that with him, although a bit awkward, felt better than I thought, even if I had never really thought about it before that night.

I thought he'd be more the impatient, rough and cheeky kind of guy but his hand traveled so slowly on me it took everything in me not to beg him to go quicker. I felt his fingertips brush against my nipple and my whole body started throbbing. I was desperate to be touched, desperate to be loved, desperate to feel alive.. and Louis was doing just that.

I sucked my stomach in when his hand ran down but spread my legs when he slipped his hand in my sweatpants. My back arched immediately at his touch, his whole hand pressing on my pussy until I felt two of his fingers slip inside me. This time, I held my breath and tensed as his mouth left mine. He brushed his lips down my neck and I slipped my hand in his hair. He smelled good, he tasted good, and I tried to suppress the image of Niall that quickly came to my mind without much success. I started tearing up and swallowed hard but when Louis brought his lips back on mine, I relaxed suddenly.

"I know you like it rough and hard but this is not what we need tonight, is it?" he whispered, his lips brushing against mine as he talked.

I shook my head and brought his closer, crushing his lips against mine. It should have hurt but it made me lust him even more and I let my hand travel to his neck and down his chest until it reached his sweatpants too. I heard him groan low and it made me feel dizzy. I pressed my hand on the front of his pants and felt him grind against it as my lips parted again and I started panting. I was excited and impatient but I didn't know if it was because of what I was about to do with Louis, or if it was because I knew I wouldn't feel pain for a while. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

I felt him move my pants down and helped him, pushing them with my feet at the bottom of the bed. I took my shirt off quickly as he did the same and after I pushed his pants down too, he quickly moved on top of me. I spread my legs and ground up without thinking, feeling his hard cock press on my inner thighs but I held my breath when he started kissing down my neck and chest. He gave a special attention to my tummy and it surprised me a bit but I couldn't seem to relax at all, feeling suddenly insecure. I wanted to tell him he didn't have to do that, that we could just make out and fuck, but his lips pressed on my pussy and I let out a curse word. I thought he'd go fast but he moved his lips and tongue so slowly on me that I felt my eyes roll back. I slid my hand under the blanket and found the back of his head only to press his face more on my pussy. I started seeing spots behind my eyelids and I knew I was getting close. I felt one of my legs start shaking and gripped his hair tight when an orgasm hit me hard.

"Oh my god!"

He didn't stop, he kept moving his tongue on me for a while, even after I relaxed, and I enjoyed the post-orgasm attention. He finally got back out of the covers and kissed me again, his mouth leaving an aftertaste of my orgasm on my own tongue.

"Mm, lay down okay?" I whispered, allowing our mouths to part briefly. "Your turn."

His kisses were getting more passionate and impatient and when he let out a low "No", I frowned.

"No?"

"I can't. Not now." he whispered again, kissing me harder. "You taste fookin' good, you know that?"

That confession made me smile and made my heart jump at the same time. I lost my smile when I felt him push himself slowly inside me and wrapped my arms around his chest as I moved my knees up.

"Oh god, fuck me." I whispered, feeling him smirk against my mouth.

"That's the plan."

I chuckled and he pushed himself completely inside me, making my head move back as I whimpered. I was impatient and I ran my hands on his back as I ground up again to feel him deeper.

"You feel... so fucking good."

He didn't answer, he just kissed me harder his elbows leaning on the mattress on each side of my head , and I brought my hands behind me on the wall to move in motion with him as he started thrusting in and out of me, slowly at first but quicker and harder until I felt close to an other orgasm.

"Oh fuck i'm gonna cum again." I murmured, bringing one of my hands to his hair again.

"Do it princess, cum for me, I want to feel you clench around me."

His words and his voice made me reach my peak immediately and I started shaking beneath him, my lips parted as his reached for my neck. He started biting me, amplifying my orgasm as I felt him reach his. His thrusts became unsteady and rough when he tried to push himself deeper before he just stopped moving. I could feel his body tremble slightly and when he finally relaxed, I kept my eyes closed. I was on the verge of tears and I was not even sure why.

Louis rolled away from me as we both lied down on our backs, watching the ceiling. I was suddenly scared that it had changed something between us, something that meant that we could never go back to that friendship we had.

"It worked. I'm not in pain right now." he admitted as I shut my eyes tight for a few seconds before opening them again.

"I'm okay too."

He found my hand between us on the mattress and squeezed my fingers tight. I didn't know if this was a good idea but it did serve the purpose and for now, that was going to be enough.

"Why didn't you want me to blow you?"

He chuckled and finally turned his head my way. It took me a few seconds but I did the same and when our eyes met, I realized he was smirking and it made me smile.

"You said it only stopped the pain for about an hour, yea?" he asked, making me nod and frown. "I'm keeping it for round two. If you're willing, of course."

I let my eyes roam on his face again and I smiled more, bringing my hand to his cheek.

"I am."

                                         --

Surprisingly, we ended up having sex a few times on that night, in-between a few hours of slumber and cuddling, and when I woke up, I turned around in bed to hide my face from the sun only to realize he was not in bed anymore. I kept my eyes close and my heart started aching again but I breathed in deeply and finally sat up and rubbed my eyes. I was still naked and searched the bed for my clothes before I actually found them on the floor, and quickly put them back on.

I walked to the kitchen with a yawn as I pulled on my hair without much success. Louis turned to me and smiled when our eyes met.

"Nice hair, princess." he chuckled. "That's what your sex hair looks like... Interesting!"

"You're such an arse I swear." I grimaced, amused, as I let myself fall on one of this chairs. "Are you really making breakfast?"

"Bacon, eggs, and toasts." he explained, putting a plate in front of me. "Nothing too fancy."

I let out a laugh when I noticed he made eyes with the eggs and a mouth with the bacon, making him smile more.

"You're an idiot, Tommo." I just said with a chuckle. "But thank you."

"For the breakfast?"

"And for last night."

He stopped moving completely but stared down at his plate and suddenly, I felt extremely guilty. I had ruined things between us just like I was scared I had and I swallowed hard. I couldn't lose Louis, I couldn't handle losing him.

"Shit, you regret it, don't you?"

He looked up and his eyes met mine before he frowned and shook his head a bit.

"Olivia, we had sex five fucking times. You don't regret five fucks that happened on the same night." he pointed out, making me breathe out the air I wasn't even aware I was holding. "I just thought we wouldn't talk about it anymore, I thought that's what you wanted."

It took me a few seconds to answer and I just licked my lips.

"It happened. I don't regret it. And I sure as hell won't forget it." I explained, shrugging a shoulder. "I'm just scared it'll change things between us."

"It won't. You're my best friend. That won't change."

I sent him a small smile and nodded, feeling a bit relieved. I knew I would be sure that nothing had changed between us only after a few days of hanging out like we used to but I trusted Louis and I knew he'd tell me if he thought things were different now.

"What are you gonna do now?"

We had both heard and asked this question a lot in the past 12 hours but I just sighed again, shaking my head.

"I'm just gonna... survive for a while I guess." I explained, taking a sip of my coffee. "And then i'll just... i'll work on myself. There are so many parts of me I noticed when I was with Niall, so many things I felt, so many flaws I have... that I need to work on. I think that's what i'll do. Work on meself."

When I looked up at my best friend, he was smiling. Not smirking the way he usually does, but sincerely smiling and it made me smile too.

"I know I always call you 'princess' but... you just turned into a 'queen' now."

I laughed and rolled my eyes. "Why? Because of what we did last night?"

"No, silly!" he chuckled and rolled his eyes too. "But what you just said? That's wise. It's actually inspiring me."

"Then let's both do that." I suggested. "We need to take care of ourselves, do things we like, work on us and... and find out who we really are. Who we are without them, as a whole... as complete human beings."

He tilted his head and his eyes became smaller as he studied me.

"Let's do that, queen." he agreed with a nod, making me grin even more. "Love you."

"Love you too."

#niall horan #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan story #niall horan writing #my fanfics #amc #some tags i cant add without spoiling this lol #oh god im so excited to post this ndjhsgajhsdgukadshxf

[katrandomwrites]

Wierdly Human

Alternate title was "Jon the Archivist is Kinda Hot"

Little in between snippets from the assistants and their impressions of Jonathan Sims.

I declare this a fluff and humor only zone! Episode 160 can kiss my butt.

You can also find this on AO3 under the same title.

I got the inspiration for this from a tumblr post about Jon being a clean boy despite crawling through hell and back but I think the writer deleted it because I spent forever looking for it and couldn't find it :n: Also 2 Drink Jon is a reference to 2 other fics I've read so his wild ass is not mine.

Supplemental Headcanons at the end.

--

Pre-Show

There was somebody new at the Institute. 

He was short and dark with black hair neatly trimmed and styled. A pair of browline glasses perched in front of wide brown eyes that seemed to absorb everything around him.

“Hey, uh, Tim,” Martin whispered as he leaned over to where his coworker was digging through a drawer, “Who’s that?”

“Hm?” Tim’s eyes widened as he looked up, “Oh shit, he’s cute.”

“Not helpful, Tim.”

“Um, I think he might be Daniel’s replacement. I think his name is Joe or something,” Tim swallowed, “I wonder what modeling agency Bouchard raided for him.”

Martin elbowed him in the ribs hard, his face going as red as his hair, “Shut up!”

“But look at him, Martin! He has to have a skincare routine an hour long and don’t tell me you didn’t notice that those trousers are bloody tailored. I see you looking at his arse!”

“SHUT UP!”

”What are you two fighting about now?”

Both researchers jumped away from each other as Sasha popped up behind them.

“Hot new guy,” Tim said, earning another jab and a hiss.

Sasha looked at Martin and grinned, “Short, scrawny, Persian, and angry?”

“He’s Persian?” Martin stuttered before slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah, I got to talk to him during his follow up interview. Smart guy but kind of grumpy and super awkward. We got talking about foriegn food and he offered to give me his grandma’s recipe for chelow kababs,” Sasha said.

“What’s his name.” Tim asked, looking back at where the new guy was glaring at a row of filing cabinets with several drawers ajar.

“Jonathan Sims.”

--

Pre Episode 44

Basira watched as Sims limped away with the tape clutched to his chest like a lifeline before sighing and heading out to the car where Daisy was waiting.

“Well?” Daisy asked, “How’s our favorite murderer?”

Basira swatted her feet off the dash, “He looks like he hasn’t slept in 3 weeks and recently got hit by a car.”

“I wasn’t asking about his nasty, worm-eaten face, Basira,” Daisy said, “Does he know we’re watching him?”

“I don’t think so -put your seatbelt on- it seems like he’s more invested in what’s on those tapes for now. I get the feeling he’s more worried about watching the people he works with than us.”

“What a sad little librarian. I’m looking forward to how he managed to kill Robinsen without getting his ass whipped.”

“She was old.”

“Yeah, but Sims looks like he’d get knocked out by a light breeze even before he got munched on by some nasty fucking bugs. Did you see the surveillance from Robinsen’s initial investigation? I went back through to track Sims and watched him struggle move a box that was in front of a filing cabinet for a solid twenty minutes; the big ginger guy had to move it for him.”

“That’s-” Basira snorted, “That’s pathetic.”

Daisy grinned, “He has to be one manipulative bastard to get anything done.”

“Is that your theory?”

“I mean look at you.”

“What about me?”

“He gives you the puppy eyes once and now you’re smuggling him tapes from the evidence locker? I have never known the great Basira Hussain to ever cave to a suspect’s wishes in my life- and don’t say it’s to keep a closer eye on him. We have less illegal tactics for that.”

Basira opened her mouth to argue but found that Daisy had a point. She really only gave into suspects if the circumstances were dire. This was technically classed as a low priority case.

What was going on here? 

--

Post Episode 76

Melanie flopped dramatically onto Georgie's couch and let out a long winded sigh.

"Oh?" Georgie asked from the kitchen door.

Melanie sat up slightly to let her sit down before plopping her head down on Georgie's thigh, "I had to go talk to Sims at the Institute again."

"How's Jon?"

"A fucking bastard is what he is."

"Well I knew that," Georgie laughed, gently beginning to brush through Melanie's hair with her fingers.

"I don't know, he's was wierdly defensive and I think he was trying to gaslight me about one of his new assistants."

Georgie paused her brushing, "I haven't seen Jon in a while but that seems… out of character for him. He's a grump, sure, but I've never known him to be a bully -on purpose that is."

"Yeah, well…"

The pair lapsed into a tense silence.

"Would it make you feel better if I show you a picture of Jon in university that he is very embarrassed about," Georgie ventured after a few minutes, "He's still mad I have it.~"

Melanie twisted her head back and grinned, instantly breaking the tension and sitting up to look at the phone screen presented to her.

On it was a picture of Jon passed out, mouth wide open and drooling, on the ugliest couch she'd ever seen.

"He still owns that couch by the way," Georgie said. Melanie waved a hand in her face to silence her as she took in the details.

Jon was in a pink crop top that Melanie was sure she'd seen in Georgie's closet, union jack boxers, gladiator sandals, and The Admiral was planted square on his chest, though he was about half the size of the fluffball that roamed the flat now. Surrounding them where piles of papers and books on the paranormal.

Melanie began to cackle.

"Our friend group used to call him '2 Drink Jon' and this was after he'd done four shots in the kitchen and decided to lecture us on how ghosts are bullshit and he could beat one in a fist fight," Georgie elaborated, "I'm still not sure when he ended up in that outfit but honestly, if we had recorded his rant he probably could have used it for his Masters thesis."

Melanie wheezed into her shoulder as tears began to stream down her face.

"2 Drink Jon was actually a lot more charismatic than sober Jon. This one time he almost had us convinced that he could talk to plants after two gin and tonics, granted we were also drunk but-,"

"Stop, please," Melanie wheezed, "I'm dying."

"Gosh, one of these days I'll have to tell you about tequila and the alien conspiracy. Randall could almost recite the whole speech from memory."

Melanie fell off the couch.

--

Post Episode 109

Julia and Trevor exchanged a look as the Archivist powered through the spiciest Thai food they could find without even breaking a sweat. 

It was supposed to be a joke, spiking Jon's food, the cashier had even given them a panicked look at the restaurant and Trevor's eyes had been watering the whole way back to the safe house. They'd even waited by the door in case Jon tried to make a break for the case of water bottles in the car but he just unwrapped the plastic fork and dug in without even asking for a drink.

Julia picked at her own food but couldn't quite manage to eat it and glanced back at Jon, "Are you sure you don't need a water or anything?"

Jon looked up for a moment, his eyes were more alive than they had been all day and practically sparkled in the shitty fluorescent light. He shook his head and instead reached for another packet of chili sauce to add to his food.

"What the hell is he," Trevor whispered to Julia in horror.

"I don't know but he's definitely not normal."

--

During Episode 132

Daisy had misjudged Jon. She'd grossly misjudged him.

She flexed her fingers around his, ignoring the way the sand dug into her skin, and gently pulled him closer. The man she'd called prey gave her a soft smile and compiled, pressing against her side like she'd never held a knife to his throat, like she hadn't just admitted to planning his murder before she was trapped here.

Daisy turned her head awkwardly and dug her face into his shoulder savoring the human contact, her tears soaking into his shirt.

The Hunt in her blood tried to sing, tried to fight the Buried, "Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect", it echoed faintly.

Jon said something and began to move, pulling Daisy forward along with him.

"Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect"

Hours past as they shimmied through the coffin, the pain of being scraped and crushed was overpowered by the sheer ecstasy of moving more than an inch every few days.

"Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect"

There was a door, Jon tucked himself under her arm and pulled her up the stairs to the blinding lights of the institute. She ducked her head down to his shoulder again and grimaced as her joints popped and groaned.

"Jon, you stupid idiot! What did you think-"

Daisy looked up to the person she thought she’d never see again and smiled.

"Hi."

--

Post Episode 132

Martin had horrible timing really. He just needed to pee, was that really too much to ask?

Of course it was. The universe hated him.

So instead of slipping into the private bathroom upstairs which was magically broken, he had to go down a level and walk in on Jon shaking dirt out of his clothes.

Martin was going to die here but at least he'd die happy.

Jon didn't even seem to register that someone else had joined him (thank the Lonely) so Martin took a second to sneak a guilty look before darting back out and hiding for 40 years.

Jon was painfully thin. Martin got the idea that he could count every vertebrae and rib if he was allowed and even at a glance he could spot the sunken area where at least one rib was now missing.

Worm scars and burns were peppered up his back along with a few moles and freckles. Little red marks circled his chest in a way that Martin immediately recognized as being from the black fabric crumpled at Jon's feet.

And to top it all off, much to Martin's delight, were a set of three black gears tattooed down Jon's right shoulder blade. Sasha had mentioned once that she had gone out for drinks with Jon when he first started and they'd managed to get on the topic of tattoos. Tim had spent months trying to get Jon to show it to him before 'giving up'.

Martin stepped out and stood in the hall for a moment, red faced and giddy, before stumbling off in search of another bathroom.

--

Somewhere between Episode 132-154

"Hey, guys?" Melanie called.

Daisy and Basira glanced up to see Melanie holding a giant plate of the best smelling food they'd seen in weeks. Steam wafted up into her very confused face.

"Did either of you make this? I went to ask Martin and I can't find him."

"I didn't make it," Basira said, "Daisy?"

"I once made spaghetti and lit it on fire.

Basira grimaced and walked up to Melanie, "Kebabs, Tahdig rice, flat bread, and jam cookies. Those are Iranian dishes, or Middle Eastern at least.”

Daisy looked at Basira, "How do you know that?"

"Took a foreign cuisine course focused on middle eastern food a few years ago," Basira said as she made her way to the kitchen area with the group in tow.

Sitting on the table were three more huge plates of food and two empty plates sitting in the sink. Martin was standing next to the table with pure confusion on his face.

"Did you make this?"

Martin jumped and looked at the group, "Uh, no? I really only do pastas… this is a little outside my skill set. I think-"

"It could be a trap," Daisy interrupted, "Maybe it's laced with something?"

"No, I'm pretty sure-"

"Could be, but who would go to this effort, the Web?" Basira said.

"Guys, it was probably-"

"It was the Archivist!" Helen exclaimed from behind them, somehow having opened her door without making a sound and scaring the shit out of them, "He is an excellent cook."

"Bullshit," Melanie wheezed, setting her plate down before she dropped it.

"No, she right," Martin sighed, "Jon actually cooked something similar a few years ago for a company thing. He gave this whole speech about how grandparents immigrated here from Iran, well Persia at the time, and his grandma made him learn to cook what she called 'real food'."

"You mean to tell me that Jonathan Sims, the skinniest guy I have ever met, can cook like this," Basira said in disbelief before cautiously sitting down at the table with the rest following suit.

"He called it his grandmother's curse," Helen provided cheerfully, "He said that no matter what he does,  he always makes far more than he needs and never has people around to give it to. So he just never cooks."

"You talked to him?" Melanie asked. Daisy began to pick at a plate and made a sound of confusion and delight at the taste.

"Oh yes, he even let me help by getting things off high shelves!"

"This is amazing," Daisy said in disbelief before grabbing a fork and beginning to eat in earnest.

"It is! Jon and I had a lovely chat and I'm not much for 'real' food these days but he really convinced me!" Helen declared, spinning back around to re enter her door, "And I must say it was delightful."

"Huh," Basira shrugged and began to eat.

Not bad.

--

Post Episode 159

For the second time since he woke up, Martin pinched himself. He had to be dreaming, the smaller body smooshed up against his chest and the boney limbs clinging to him had to be a figment of his imagination.

Jon huffed in his sleep and burrowed deeper into Martin before settling again. A few stray rays of the morning sun slipped through the blinds highlighting Jon’s gray hairs and the raised edges of scars that trailed along his skin.

Gently, Martin carded his hand through the wild mess of hair, marveling at how soft it was despite everything. Jon sighed, leaning into the touch without stirring.

He could stay like this forever, with Jon safe in his arms and the dangers of the world outside, away from his happiness.

"Wha' time?" Jon mumbled, stretching before re-draping himself over Martin. He looked up and the light caught his eyes in a way that Martin could see all the blue heterochromatic spots in Jon's left eye through dark, heavy lashes. 

"Doesn't matter," Martin whispered as he pulled him closer, "We have all the time in the world."

--

Supplemental Headcanons: - Jon is a 3rd gen Persian/Iranian immigrant. His grandparents on his dad's side moved to England post WWII. (Persia became Iran in 1979) They took the last name Sims during immigration. - His mother was full blooded English. - He can out cook 87% of the local grandma's when he really gets into it - He built an unnaturally high tolerance to salt and spice as a kid to keep people from taking his lunch or trying to mess with his food and now thoroughly enjoys spicy foods. - Jon does care a lot but his grandma never taught him to show it in any other way but tolerance and mute acceptance. It's hard to know where you stand with Jon because of this. - Was a runner while in school. - Was forced to take violin lessons as a kid and Georgie taught him some piano in University. - Jon is and always has been feral little man though he is more bark than bite (unless he's under the influence of something). He learned it from his grandma. - He's one of those drunks that often wanders/ runs away from his drinking group. He has strong drunk college girl tendencies. - He changed his middle name to Ulysses when he got his first name legally changed because he’s a nerd. - Jon has had the same pen pal since he was 10. They are one of the few points of normalcy he has left. - Jon and Daisy are trans mlm and wlw solidarity. Fight me.

Fun Fact: Sims means "the Listener" which seems almost too on the nose.

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