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landososcar · 13 hours

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so high school ; JB5

pairing(s) ; jude bellingham x singer!reader , jude bellingham x student!reader

summary ; twitters favourite new(ish) artist drops her new album right during her school year.

warnings ; nothinggggg & mainly just fluff bc i love happy people

note ; SORRY ITS SHORT AHHAHA, i’ll post a new lando fic soon i just have no inspiration… ignore any dates that are wrong or don’t match - im lazy. also this is VERYYYY LOOSLY based off so high school lol (it’s mainly the aristotle line)

instagram !

liked by judebellingham, taylorswift, and others

youruser surprise !!!!! as an end of term present (for myself🤭🥳) and in honour of knowing the loml for 15 years, here’s 15 new songs for you guys to (hopefully) enjoy 😊 noah, thank you for trusting me and letting me join you on what might be one of my favourite songs ever!! i loveeee youuuu. && to my jude<3 thank you for inspiring me every single day of our lives. i love you bigger than the whole sky 🩵🩵 (guys he’s actually v v talented and he helped me write scared of my guitar, hard to sleep, and feels like) j, you are my safe place and these songs — especially the ones i haven’t let you hear yet — are for you.

ps guys idk how to only write happy songs but jude is the only one who makes me feel safe enough to express my emotions through my songs 😁 i looooovvveee him and am NOT 🙅‍♀️ breaking up with him. he is stuck with me forever💞

‘the alchemy’ is YOURS tonight at midnight 💓

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user1 WHAT

user2 YOU CANT JUST DROP THIS ON US WTF

oliviarodrigo my girl💞💞 i’m so so soooo excited😭

user3 GIRL I KNOW YOU DIDNT JUST CALL THE ALBUM ‘the alchemy’ FOR NO REASON. WHERE TF IS THE TITLE TRACK I KNOW YOUVE GOT HER SOMEWHERE

youruser jude and i love the alchemy the most out of all the songs and wanna keep her just ours for a little bit longer but maybe if you guys enjoy these songs i’ll let you have my baby

user4 YNAJDKJSKDKDIS

user5 WHATTTT songs did she not let jude hear omfg i need to know

youruser he’s heard them all except for daylight, paper rings & so high school lollll

judebellingham refreshing my spotify every minute til midnight you guys don’t understand she’s kept these songs in a VAULT

user6 jude i know you love spotify but apple music get new music 10 minutes early xxx

judebellingham just made an apple music account

user7 TEN MINS TIL THE ALBUM OF THE YEAR DROPS

taylorswift so so proud of you beautiful 🩷🩷

judebellingham I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH

judebellingham putting ALLLL of these on the pre-game playlist

youruser babe idk if some of these will pump you up before a game

judebellingham hearing your voice will pump me up idc how sad the song is xx

user8 why’s no one talking about how she’s in UNIVERSITY and dropped a FIFTEEN song album like …??? she’s INSANE. WHERE did she find the TIMEEE

user9 not to mention she lives with him in madrid and does school online coz her uni is in the uk

user10 she’s insane i don’t understand how😭😭

imessages !

instagram !

youruser just posted to their close friends story.

twitter !

instagram !

liked by judebellingham, trentarnold66, and others

youruser surprised my fav person in the uk for his england game and he scored for me 😆🩵🩵

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user1 she wrote “you know how to ball” and he said “yeah” then scored a goal and did a celebration for her😭

user2 zoom in on pic 6 and you’ll see me laying on the road waiting to be run over

judbellingham ‘unemployed girlfriend’ but you’re the greatest singer on earth while also doing online uni full time and you still make time to be able to come see me

youruser it’s coz i love you so so bad

jobebellingham you make me sick

youruser i love u too jobeyyyyyy

england our favourite visitor💙💙

user3 how does she do all this whilst going to uni😭😭😭

oliviarodrigo 💖💖💖

judebellingham I LOVVVEEEE YOUUUUU

user4 i NEED the top in pic 8 where is it from

youruser i found it on depop and HAD to buy it😭😭 i think someone made it x

chappellroan HOTTTTT (you not ur bf)

youruser I WOULD DIE FOR YOU MY WIFE💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

user5 i don’t understand how you write sad songs like the ones on your album if ur ‘in love with jude’

user6 jude deserves better than someone who’s so caught up on and still writes songs about her exes

user7 WHYS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE LYRICS SHE POSTED ON TWITTER IM GOJNG INSANE

user8 LITERALLY?/!;!!/;@:8@ LIKE ??????? “WHERES THE TROPHY? HE JUST COMES RUNNING OVER TO ME” IS SO JUDE CODED WHEN Y/N IS AT LITERALLY ANY OF HIS GAMES

user7 EXACTLYYYYY HE ALWAYSSS RUNS TO HER IMMEDIATELY AFTER HES ALLOWED TO DO HIS OWN THING. ITS FUCKING ADORABLE

user8 IM SO GLAD SOMEONE UNDERSTANDS ME

user7 were both insane let’s get married

user8 dm me right now wife

youruser liked the comments in this thread

imessages !

instagram !

liked by taylorswift, jobebellingham, and others

youruser lol little life update coz i’ve been m.i.a. for the last almost two months. 1: i went blonde again. 2: my man still as fine as ever. 3: got engaged or whatever lol. 4: slaying up exams. 5: i miss tour so i decided imma come back and see you all soon 🤭🤭 tour dates soon <3

ps in honour of becoming fiance or whatever🤗 the alchemy and 4 other songs are yours on the deluxe version of ‘the alchemy’ ,, out tonight !!!

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user1 WHAT THE FUCK

user2 GIRL LET US BREATHE

harrykane juudddeeeeee!!! congrats🥳❤️

declanrice mr bellingham that is a ROCK

user3 SHE DISAPPEARED FOR TWO MONTHS AND THEN CAME BACK AND DROPPED ALL OF RHAT ON HS

gracieabrams OMG WIFE IS GONNA BE A WIFE

user4 BLONDE YN IS BACK AND SHES A FIANCÉ OH MY GOD

judebellingham WIFE WIFE WIFE‼️‼️‼️

youruser not yet my love but so close🥰

judebellingham I CANT HEAR YOU MY WIFE IS AN ACADEMIC AND LYRICAL GENIUS

user5 she’s still writing break up and sad songs whilst engaged… so weird

user6 yeah and jude helps her,, he must be so disgusted right? seriously get a life and go touch grass

taylorswift so so happy for you 💓💓

youruser 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 i love you

user7 TOUR TOUR TOUR TOUR TOUR

england juddeeeeee💙 sooo happy for you two

trentarnold ❤️❤️❤️

user8 how girl just gonna casually drop a ENGAGEMENT announcement in the middle of a photo dump

user9 REALLLL LIKE THATS A BIG ASS RING TOO

noahkahanmusic YESSSSS🤍🤍🤍🤍

user10 HOWWWW is miss girl gonna find time in her schedule to do uni, make music, keep a healthy relationship, AND TOUR

judebellingham mrs*

#Spotify #jude #jude bellingham #bellingham #jb5 #la liga #real madrid #england #nessa barrett #taylor swift #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham smash #smau #fluff #fanfic #jude bellingham x yn #bellingham fluff

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lis-likes-fics · 2 days

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Shijetra Nyke, Mandia

Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader Word Count: 5.9k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, technically dubcon bc coercion, fingering, implied age gap (she's laena's little sister), multiple orgasms, p in v sex, breeding kink, sort of cheating, mentions of death and war, swearing, technically reader is black but she can be read as any race, High Valyrian, Daemon is not a good person... A/N: Hey, everyone! Was trying to hold off on this one but I decided to just post it anyway. Super excited for HOTD S2 to come out in June. I promise there are ideas for Aemond but writing sucks so much ass so it's just taking a while to get to it. Thank you so much and happy reading!

The seas are steady tonight. As the moon glints off its gentle waves, the water seems to mourn as you do. It was hard to find sleep. You came all the way out here to watch the crashing waves, in hopes of finding some solace in the sea, but even it does not seem to have the strength to roar tonight.

Your nightgown blows in the soft winds of the night as you watch the ocean.

The rustling of sand pulls a sigh from you, and you grit your teeth as you turn away from the man coming to stand next to you. You don't have to look at him to know who it is. You could tell him anywhere.

“I wish to be alone,” you whisper.

Daemon clasps his hands in front of himself as he looks out at the sea. “That is understandable, my lady.”

“And, yet, you are still here.” You look up at him, your features hard as you glare.

His voice is soft. You're not quite sure it fits him. The non-confrontation in his voice feels strange.

“I thought you might need company,” he says, examining your face as he does. For a moment, you think he can see the ghosts of the dried tears you've shed. “It has been a tiring day, after all.”

You huff, turning away again. Looking at him for too long makes your skin crawl. “I have not want of company.”

He hums. “I said ‘need’, not want.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, I have no need for your company.”

He seems unphased by your hostility. “Even so…” he looks down at you, the look in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine, “you shall have it.” You stare at him, wanting to step back but not wanting to give him that satisfaction. He turns his body to face yours, craning his head down to watch you better.

He lowers his voice to a whisper as he leans in, as if there were thousands of people here and the secret he is to bestow upon you is too dangerous to say aloud. “It is in times like these, I hear, times where we are most vulnerable, that a bit of presence does one good.”

Despite your urge to stay planted in your sandy spot, you take a small step back without breaking your feigned confidence. “Very well, then,” you say. “You may go and fetch someone else to give me presence. I do not need yours.”

He almost seems amused, though he dies it well. He leans his head back a slight. “You despise me so, yet I have done nothing.”

You let out a breathy scoff, turning away from him and toward your humorless response. “Well, that's the whole of it, isn't it?” You shake your head, your frustration piquing once more. “You've done nothing.”

He hums. “I don't think I understand.”

You look at him, and he can see the anger simmering in your gaze. “Don't you?” You step closer to him, invading his space as he does yours, daring to play his game. “Where were you when my sister left her birthing bed? Where were you when she left the walls of the castle to give herself to her dragon's breath?” Your voice broke as the pain threatened to tear apart your anger. “Where were you when she ordered Vaghar to take her life?”

He almost rolls his eyes at your accusations. “I tried to stop her.”

“But you didn't try hard enough,” you seethe. “Or she would be standing next to me.”

He steps closer, taking the control back. His voice is still quiet, though his level tone is twinged with annoyance. “Laena had her own spirit,” he insists. “She did as she liked well enough. I see not why I should have blame for her own decisions.” His near lack of regard fuels you. “And besides, she would have died anyway. The maesters told me so.”

You shove him back, and your rage is flared by the knowledge that he only moves because he allows you to move him.

“She was everything to me!” Your uneven breaths have your chest heaving as your voice echoes across the water. “Not only my sister, my blood—she was my protector.” You sigh shakily, angrily wiping away the tears welling in your eyes. Your voice softens, though not because you want it to. “Now she is gone.”

He remains silent for a moment, letting it sit until it's no longer comfortable. He tilts his head, still standing so close. “And yet, I am not to blame.”

You roll your eyes, unable to look him in the eyes anymore as you look past his head. “Do you even care?”

“Of course I care,” he insists. “She was my lady wife, after all.”

You raise a brow. “Yet you do not mourn.”

He shrugs a shoulder, entirely unconvincing. “Everyone mourns differently.”

You nod. “And you mourn by shedding no tears and strutting through the castle halls?”

Daemon hums. “You must forgive me if I have offended you, my lady.”

You stare up at him, unblinking as your rage and grief continues to give you the strength to look in his eyes and speak your truth. “You have, and I don't.”

A huge part of that strength crumbles when he steps so close to you that you're forced to step back. You falter, a momentarily fear in your eyes at the predatory gaze in his own. His eyes seem to examine you, taking in each and every little curve of your body every crease in your dress. You try not to shrink under his scrutinization.

His voice is so soft, and your flesh crawls with the sound of it. “What do you need from me?”

You have no choice but to break eye contact. It's too much, too close. You swallow thickly, your voice quieting to a low request, rather than the command you had wanted. “I need nothing from you but for you to remove yourself from my presence. Hastily.”

He stands completely still for a while, his eyes just as fixed on your face. When he moves, it almost startles you. His hand reaches up to touch your face, his fingertips brushing your cheek. You're quick to swat him away with a harsh swipe of your hand, taking a step back. “Do not touch me.”

He says nothing, and the silence is unbearable. He just…watches you. His gaze is intense, focused, terrifying. He stands there, still as a statue for the longest time, before making another attempt for your face. You're just as quick as the first, if not quicker with your flickering frustrations.

“I said don't–”

He grabs your face, not caring this time for gentleness as his dull nails dig into the flesh of your jaw and hold you, pulling you close and keeping there, no matter how much you fight him. Your heart pounds against your ribs, beating so heavily that you think it'll stop any moment now. The fear that washes over you is both a searing chill and a molten burn. “Get off of me!”

Leaning in close, he shakes his head. “Shh, “ he bids. “Hush, little river.”

You hate that. Your family calls you that on occasion because you're the youngest of the Velaryon siblings, Laena especially. It's meant to be kind, for rivers are the waters that feed the sea, but when Daemon says it, you feel so small. You feel so insignificant. He taunts you with it.

“Don't call me that,” you hiss. “Get off of me!” You try to push him away, but as you suspect, he doesn't budge. But his next words make you freeze in your spot.

“You are just as beautiful as her,” he says, tilting his head as he stares. “Your sweet sister.”

You're stunned into silence, into stillness. You stare wide-eyed at him, holding your breath as the sound of the waves slowly beginning to build and the sound of your own heart beating away in your chest fill your ears.

You blink, confusion and shock coloring your face. “What?”

He tilts his head. “I wanted you, you know,” he whispers, his words lingering in the tiny space between you. You can hardly breathe, but you can't look away with his iron grip on your face. “When I married your big sister, I wanted it to be you I would bed that night… I only settled for her.”

Your shaking breath became loud as you tried to remove his hand from you, grasping his wrist with all your strength in an effort to pull him away, to no avail. “Daemon. Don't do this–”

“Now that she has taken her leave of us, bless her…” the slightest smirk slips onto his lips, “I am free to pursue my true desires.”

You shake your head, “Daemon–”

You turn your head just in time to avoid his kiss as his lips press against your cheek. Your squirm, squeezing your eyes shut as frightened tears spring to your eyes. Daemon chuckles darkly, taking a slip of your flesh between his teeth in a nip.

You have no control when he turns your head for you. His lips press hungrily into yours, forcing his lust down your throat whether you want it or not. Your protest comes out as a whimper, and it fuels his fire as his arm snakes around your waist and pulls you flush against his body.

You push against him, struggling to get any traction to shove him away. You reach around to grab his hand at your waist, pulling at his pinkie until you've bent it too far for him to continue holding you. He pulls away, pride shining in his face as he smirks. You push him, but this time he doesn't move.

“Get your fucking hands off me before I call for Arlaryx!” Your command is sharp, but he doesn't seem all that phased by it. You honestly hadn't expected him to be.

He inclines his head back, sneering. “And bring her against my war-grown beast?” He stalks forward, invading your space again, no matter how far you stumble back. “You know your dear thing would not stand a chance.”

The thought of your precious creature in the jaws of Daemon's monstrous demon makes your blood run cold. He's right. She would not be enough against Caraxes.

You shake your head. Your voice is weak. “Please.”

He sighs contently, his smile curling into something especially evil. “I like you begging,” he purrs. “So small and sweet you are, when you do not spit venom.”

A deep snarl just barely resounds over the waves picking up about the sea. As you look over your shoulder, you both take in the sight of Arlaryx, her scales almost as blue as sapphires, a color that blends with the deep seas.

Her towering figure stalks out onto the beach, smoke billowing from her nose as she watches the both of you. Another snarl rumbles in her chest.

The faint sound of another snarl, one much different from her own, is heard seemingly in the back of your mind. But you know you did not imagine it. By the smirk on Daemon's face, you know you have not imagined it.

He bends down, his lips by your ear as he whispers. “Do you want to do this, little river?”

You stare at her, your eyes watering at the haunting images of her torn apart on the sand. Your heart thuds in your chest, and you know she feels it because she begins to snarl again. Her claws dig into the sand, her long tail swishes the water when she takes another step forward.

You steady your breath, opening your mouth and hesitating for a moment. You clear your throat, speaking as level as you can manage.

“Dohaeris, Alarlyx,” you command, swallowing roughly. “Dohaeris. Nyke sȳz.”

The beast makes no move to leave, and you sigh heavily. Curse her and her loyalties. They will get her killed.

You steel your voice, trying to sound stronger than you feel. She will not listen to you if you sound weak. “Lyrkiri,” you insist. The smoke diminishes, becoming thinner and thinner until it has stopped. “Sōvēs, Arlaryx, sōvēs.”

She lifts a heavy claw, easing slightly like she'll actually listen.

Then Daemon wraps an arm around your midsection, pulling your body against his as he presses a kiss to your forehead. You wince, squirming in his grasp.

Arlaryx’s mind seems to be made up. She crouches again, advancing slowly once more as her snarls become louder. Smoke arises once again from her nostrils as she opens her mouth, the burning heart of her rage billowing inside of her.

You both know it's just a threat. She would not put you in such danger, but Daemon's crimes against you have officially enraged her.

But Caraxes’ distant croaks and growls fill your head, and you can't stand it. You nearly shout, sounding almost as desperate as you feel as you drop your voice and command her.

“Dohaeris, Arlaryx,” you bellow. “Dohaeris se sōvēs.”

Her warning snarls are replaced with a sort of whining sound as she takes a hesitant step back. She grunts, and you watch the smoke dissipate. Unfurling her great wings, she takes flight as she disappears into the night. Caraxes’ sounds have ceased. You sigh, almost relieved until Daemon's teeth nip at your ear. Anxiety fills you once more.

“That one is just as stubborn as you.” He kisses your cheek, his tongue darting out to taste the skin. He inhales your scent, and a shiver runs down your spine.

Shutting your eyes, you let out a shaky breath. “Just get this over with.”

Anticipation swirls in your belly, the prospect of his hands on you, his mouth, his…

But he just laughs at you, pulling away from your body and leaving you cold. You turn, surprise on your face as you try to figure out why he'd suddenly pulled away from you. Is he so fickle in his interests that he should let you go before having his way?

You have half a mind to run.

“Ȳdra daor gaomagon bona.” Don't do that. He remains close, his predatory gaze follows you. “Nyke gīmigon jaelā nyke, riña. Tepagon isse, byka qelbar.” I know you want me, girl. Give in, little river.

You clench your jaw, balling your hands into fists as you step closer. “Nyke ȳdra daor jaelagon ao,” you spit. I don't want you.

He chuckles, leaning in until your faces are inches apart. “Pirtra.” Lies.

He takes a step forward, continuing this back and forth dance—you step, he steps, forward and back, left and right. Then he begins to circle you as you stand there, feeling as small as he probably views you.

“You think I don't notice when your eyes follow me down the hall?” he asks, and the question makes your blood run cold. “You think I don't see you peeking over your cup at dinner?” He stops behind you, pressing his chest to your back and whispering in your ear, his lips caressing the shell. “You crave my touch so deeply, it makes you look pathetic.”

His arms snake around your waist as he pulls you close. Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand teasing you, reaching down, down, down.

“I hear you.” Your breath hitches. “At night when you touch yourself to my name.” The smallest breath slips from your lips when his hand cups your heat, his finger teasing your clit over your gown.

“Does it feel good?” His voice is a purr in your ear. “Imagining my fingers plunging inside of you? Wishing it was my teeth sunk into your flesh and not your own nails digging into your skin?”

Your legs tremble, his words resonating in your bones. You shake your head, taking a breath for courage as you object.

“You are not mine,” you whisper, your voice weak. You break out of his hold, turning to watch him as you try to recollect your wavering dignity. “Dead or alive, you are my sister's. I will not sully her memory this way.”

“Oh, come off it.” He comes closer. “Either way, your sister is dead. Why deny yourself pleasure for the memory of a dead sister?”

You slap him. His head whips to the side as your hand inspires a large red blush over his cheek. His fingers brush his skin, a large crooked grin taking his face as he slowly turns to look at you.

You take a small step back, anxiety creeping into you at the way he watches you, like prey being stalked by a cruel beast. He says nothing as he stands there. He begins to walk forward.

And you run.

Sand kicks into the air as you bolt away, your breath loud in your ears and your heart heavy in your chest. Tears spring to your ears as the exertion, the cold thrill of his hunt encourages your escape.

You don't get far. He's faster than you, and his strength is far superior to yours as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you from the ground. You kick your feet, trying to break free from his hold. But it's of no use. You shout over the crashing waves of the tides, waves that have picked up since Daemon arrived. Like they mourn with you, they fight for you, too.

He wrestles you to the ground, flipping you onto your back as he pins your arms down by your head. He looms over you, positioning himself between your legs and ignoring your fight like you're nothing against him. And perhaps you are.

“Go ahead,” he grins, spurred on by your struggle. “Pretend you despise me. Perhaps, now, you do.” He leans in close, whispering in your ear. “But we are all the way out here, with no one to hear your screams but the sea.”

Your fight diminishes, the reality of his words sinking in. You look at him, your eyes wide and struck with adrenaline-coated tears. His gaze is dark, his smile even darker. He shifts one of your arms to the other, grasping both your wrists in one of his big hands as the other strokes your side, dipping beneath your thin gown to touch your bare skin beneath. You shudder at the feeling, anxiety pooling in your belly at the knowledge that you can do nothing to fight him.

“Will you lose breath screaming or cumming?”

Your voice is weak and broken. It's barely a whisper when you speak. “Please.”

He shushes you, his lips so close to yours. You can almost feel it, the heat of his kiss as he would devour you.

And then he does. He presses his lips roughly against yours, his tongue slipping past them to taste you. He grips your side, his dull nail digging into your flesh. You can't help the whine you let out into his mouth, regretting the way you seek him out, especially after he pulls away. And he smiles triumphantly, knowing he has you right where he wants you.

“Don't worry, little river.” A quiet gasp erupts from your chest when his hand cups your bare cunt, his fingers rubbing against your folds before he parts them to plunge his finger inside of you. Your mouth falls open, sharp breaths teetering in and out at the way he touches you, at the way you clench around his finger like you'll die if he pulls away now.

“I'll give you what you've been craving all these years.”

He moves like fire. His hand is insistent as his finger plunges in and out of your wet heat, pulling more and more arousal from your already damp folds. You clench your jaw, stifling your moans as he forces the pleasure down your throat.

When he thrusts another finger inside of you, you moan at the stretch, your eyes rolling back at the way he curls them inside of you. You grab his arm, gripping it tight, though you're not sure if you're trying to stop him or not.

He moves quickly. You don't have time to catch up with the harsh thrusts of his fingers, so you lay back and take it as the pleasure explodes all over your body.

It feels so good. His fingers reach deeper, faster, too. The feeling of someone else's fingers inside of you instead of your own is so foreign. Your frantic breath makes you light-headed, and you can hardly keep your thoughts straight.

“I know it's exhausting,” he mumbles as his palm slaps against your clit, “fighting me.”

But you must fight. For your sister, who meant so much to you. You must fight against this man who let her die. Who would you be if you allowed yourself to succumb to your late sister's husband? She practically raised you, and this is how you repay her?

But here you are. She died hardly two days ago, and you were laying on the sand with Daemon's fingers in your cunt.

Being in this position is surreal. Because he was right, you had been craving this moment for years, wanting so deeply to feel Daemon's passion on your skin. His lips brush your cheek, and he murmurs into your ear. “You'll feel better when you let go.”

Your breath hitches. “Daemon.”

“That's it,” he smirks, feeling you leaning into him. “Close your eyes and give in to me, little river.”

Your eyes flutter shut. The pace of his hand, the feeling of his fingers thrusting so deeply, the pleasure scours your body until you feel yourself reaching your limit.

“Ȳdra daor keligon, Daemon,” you sigh, your voice high with bliss as you pull your hands away from his grasp. “Nyke jorrāelagon ziry.” Don't stop. I need it.

“Qilōni?” Who?

“Ao!” You! You moan, rolling your hips into his hand as he continues to coax your release from you. Your head is spinning, and you've long since left reason behind. “Nyke jorrāelagon ao,” you beg. I need you.

You turn your head to lay your eyes upon the sea, the pleasure within you swelling like the waves crashing against the shore. “Shijetra nyke, mandia.”

Forgive me, sister.

Your lips part and your back arches off the sand as you come undone. Your moans echo off the waters, becoming all the worse when Daemon's teeth nip the flesh of your neck.

It feels amazing, freeing almost. His hand continues to work out through your pleasure, even when it all fades into oversensitivity. He lets go of you, pulling away from your body and staring down at you. You watch through hooded eyes as he examines his hand, watching the way your arousal glistens off his fingers in the moonlight. He looks at you as he licks his fingers clean.

The scene is so erotic, the way he groans at the taste of you on his tongue. “Such a magnificent treat you are,” he hums. He bends down and takes your lips against his own, his tongue licking into your mouth as you taste yourself on him.

You watch as his hand reaches for his belt, and you can't help the way your legs close at the thought of him revealing himself to you. He reaches a hand out, gripping your knee and pushing your legs apart again. “Do not move.”

You do as you're told, waiting with bated breath as he unlatches his belt and sets himself free. You gasp silently at the sight of him, long and solid and flushed pink at the tip. When your eyes lock with his, he looks quite proud of himself.

Daemon turns you on your belly, positioning you as he wants you, with your face shoved into the sand and your hips in the air. His harsh hands grope your body, your ass, your waist, your thighs. You groan, your hips jerking when his thumbs spread your folds apart.

“You're fucking dripping,” he says, a dark smirk in his words as he runs a finger between them.

“Kostilus,” you whisper, taking handfuls of sand to try to control yourself. You were in too deep. Your desire for him has turned to a desperate need embedding itself in the pit of your stomach. Please.

He chuckles, “Say it again.”

You have no mind to refuse him. You've long since lost your dignity, and you've betrayed your sister like you never thought you would. It's too late for you. Why deny yourself pleasure over broken promises?

“Kostilus, Daemon,” you whine, shuddering at the way his hand strokes down your spine. “Nyke jaelagon ao.” I want you.

He puts you out of your misery with a harsh thrust into your needy cunt. You moan, your heavy breaths blowing sand into the air. “Ondoso se gods…” By the gods…

A long groan rumbles in his chest as he closes his eyes, relishing in the feel of your tight pussy. “Fuck,” he curses as he bottoms out. “You are a virgin.” He grips your hips, burying himself so deep that you feel like you can't breathe. “With all your supposed virtue, I thought you were pretending you weren't a dirty whore.”

As he grips you tight, Daemon doesn't take you, he fucks you. He holds you, digs his nails in your flesh. He thrusts his cock in and out of your tight hole, fast and rough and with the recklessness of a starving man devouring his food. The ocean rages. You're not sure if it's a reflection of your betrayal or your need. The sea is strange in that way, it's versatility.

You wish you could disappear into the dark waters, break away from this beast of a man and let the sea consume you. At least then you'd be at peace with yours, part of the waters of your bloodline.

But here are you, consumed by fire as you ignore the burn of the sand scratching your skin. It's a molten kind of pleasure, the kind that oozes out of you in lingering bliss and deep desires. You're slick with arousal, which makes it easier for him to glide in and out of you. His relentless pace smacks against you, the sound of it echoes through the air with the heavy heat of his passion.

Your position is so compromising. Anyone could happen across you. Anyone could walk the shoreline and find you being fucked into the sand by your sister's husband.

Your rationale falls short because the fear of it is nowhere near as strong as it should be. If the lords of Pentos saw you, they would surely gossip. Word would spread through the city, and that word would spread all the way across the sea. Everyone would know, your nieces, your brother, your mother and father. They would reject, disown you. They would strip you of Velaryon, you would be just another Waters bastard of Driftmark.

You could say he made you. You could tell them he threw you to the sand and took you as he pleased, ravaged you as though you were nothing but meat. But Corlys would go to war over you. To have your honor destroyed in such a way, it would be a war of sea against fire, a war full of bloodshed and hatred.

The idea has you running cold, but the chill doesn't last long with the way Daemon's hips thrust into you, full of his own fire.

“What I wouldn't give to spend every moment snug in this virgin cunt,” he grunts, reaching forward as he flattens his hand against the back of your skull. He twists your hair around his fingers and pulls, keeping you secure in his grip. You go limp at the feeling, the weakness seeping into your bones.

“Perhaps I should breed you,” he sighs with a laugh. “I'll fill you full of my seed, maybe even keep you as my broodmare. I'll keep you round with my children, always ready for me to fuck as I please. Is that what you want, little river?”

So truly blinded by your pleasure, you have no choice but to agree. You lean into the way he makes you feel, letting your troubles melt away, your concerns and your hesitations a thing of the past. They will do you no good now.

“Yes,” you gasp, allowing yourself to be ravaged. “Yes, Daemon, I want that.”

The triumphant look in his eyes shines at the way you give in so completely. Empowered by your submission, his thrusts become more merciless. He grunts and groans behind you, tugging on your hair and holding you still as you return the passion.

All of the sudden, he pulls out of you, leaving you cold and shaking. A stray whine seeps off your tongue, but you have no time to let it linger before he’s flipping you onto your back. He throws your legs onto his shoulder and shoves himself back inside of you in just a couple fluid motions. His ruthless thrusts have you nearly crying for him. The blunt head of his cock reaches so deeply like this, punching against that spongy part inside of you as stars swirl in your vision.

“It feels so good,” you moan, though you’re sure your words are nearly incoherent. It feeds Daemon’s ego either way, encouraging a rougher fuck as he gives you what you want, gives himself what he’s been craving all along. He was right. You do feel as good as he thought, better even. You’re so tight, so inexperienced and untouched that all of his cruel pleasure wrecks your body in your sensitivity.

“You can get louder, can’t you?” he asks, bending down to fold you in half for a different angle.

Your head falls back against the sand. You must look a mess, covered in tiny grainy crystals, hair all over the place. But it doesn’t matter. That’s probably what he wants. Your hands reach up to touch his face, pulling him close as he continues to fuck into you. His thrusts are shorter, harder now. You’re running out of breath quickly, struggling to keep up.

“Fuck, don’t stop!” The breathy wail feels almost like it was forced from your lungs. As he reaches his hand down to touch your clit, you’re done for and you know it. “Oh, Daemon, please.”

He’s intent on making you cum, and with the skill he’s acquired throughout his years, you know he’ll be successful. He’s already got you crying his name.

“Are you going to cum on my cock, girl?” he questions, his breath heavy and his hair messy upon his head. “I know you want to, you’re squeezing me so tight.” You cant your hips up into his own, seeking out your sweet release as he hangs it over your head. “Tell me who you want.”

Your eyes, blurry with tears, watch him hazily. “You.”

He tuts. “You can do better than that. If you want to cum, you will tell me who you want to breed this tight little hole of yours.”

You have no mind to refuse him—you have no mind to do anything but follow where the pleasure takes you. With shallow breaths, you blink pleasure tears from your eyes. “I want you, Daemon. Please, I want you to cum in me and make me your whore.”

He doesn’t know if you could have said it any better. Making harsh circles over your clit, he fucks you with all the strength he’s got. You feel like he’ll bruise you with how brutal he’s being. You feel a tightening coil in your belly, one that just clenches and clenches and clenches with every circle on the sensitive pearl he attacks.

“Cum for me, little river,” he commands, leaving you and your body no room to refuse him as he pulls it out of you. “Cum all over my cock and scream my name like the perfect whore that you are.”

And you obey. It’s like a lever being pulled. One moment you’re teetering on the edge, the next you're arching your back and feeling pleasure consuming your body in a fire that makes you shiver. He doesn’t stop fucking you. If anything, the way you tighten around him only makes his thrusts shorter and his grinding rougher. You’re dizzy and your moans are high and pathetic.

He doesn’t stop attacking your clit. You’re so sensitive, once the pleasure wanes and the movements sting, you squirm away from him, but he doesn’t care. He holds you in place and commands you as though you were one of the dragon beasts he meant to train. He wraps his free hand around your throat, leaning down to bite and suck at your neck. “Dohaeris,” he hisses, his tone sharp and quiet but full of so much of a threat that you bear through the discomfort until it twists in your gut into the dizzying sensation of overstimulated pleasure again.

His name falls from your lips like a chant. The sound of it continues to spur him on, his thumb becoming faster as he searches for that same release for himself. “Please, Daemon,” you whimper, “please cum inside of me. I need you to cum inside of me, please.”

You tip him over the edge. With a growl, he shoves his cock as far as he can go, far enough that it hurts when he buries himself so deep. Grinding into you, his hot release fills you to the brim. Encouraged by the adrenaline, his ruthless thumb carries on until you’re cumming with him.

Your sounds mix in the air, his grunts, your moans, the squelching sound of his cock thrusting into your clenching cunt. “Fuck, you take me so well,” he praises, his voice rough with the effects of his release.

With two more thrusts, as rough as he can make them—just for the fun of it—he pulls out of you. You whine, laying limply on the sand. He watches you, smiling at the way you seem to struggle to stay conscious.

He considers just leaving you there to recuperate on your own.

Daemon adjusts himself, stuffing his cock back into his trousers and fixing his belt. He stares at your cunt all the while, using his fingers to shove his cum back inside of you every time it begins to leak out.

He sits you up, fixing your gown and pulling your face to sit inches from his own. “Iksā ñuhon,” he mutters into your ear, his words clear. “Daorys kostagon renigon ao sir.” You shudder at his claim, your eyes fluttering shut as he whispers to you. You are mine. No one can touch you now.

”Do you understand me?” he asks, and you know you cannot refuse.

Not that you ever want to.

You nod slowly, looking up at him as you accept your fate. “Kessa, Daemon.”

He hums. “Good.” Staring at your lips, he leans in and kisses you. He kisses you with force and power, using a kind of domination that was quite unnecessary—given the fact that he’d already taken your virginity and, quite possibly, bred you with his children. There’s a hint of something in the background, however, a hunger, a desperation that seeps into your skin and makes you feel warm.

Under the cruelty is a gentleness that is entirely foreign to you. You chalk it up to imagination as he pulls away, pinching your cheek. “Come with me,” he orders. “I am not done with you yet, my little river.”

Shijetra nyke, mandia.

Ice and Fire taglist: @divinearchangel @alexxavicry @katsukis1wife @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @lover-of-books-and-tea @avalyaaa Tag yourself here...

#daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #a song of ice and fire #fanfic #fanfiction #female reader #reader insert

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erikahenningsen · 2 days

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26 Janis/Regina

26. “Here, let me help you.”

Janis still has mixed feelings about Regina George.

Sure, she's still the demon who ruined her life. Inadvertently got her kicked out of school. Made her lose all her friends. Never apologized.

But after the bus... Regina is different. Well, Janis doesn't know if Regina has changed. Maybe she's still a mega-bitch. But the way people react to her is certainly different.

It's become clear that Regina doesn't have the same power she used to. People still give her a wide berth in the halls, but it's not out of fear. People stare, but not because they're analyzing Regina's outfit and trying to figure out how to replicate it. The looks are pitying, not envious.

Janis isn't sure where Regina spends her lunch period. She hasn't seen the girl in the cafeteria since that fateful final lunch that solidified Regina's fall from power. But when Janis skips lunch to speed-write an assignment she forgot about for her seventh period class, she does a double take while passing through the shelves in the library.

It's Regina—without the neck collar, which is new. She's just standing there, seemingly trying to reach something on the shelf above her, but she keeps wincing as soon as her arm gets above shoulder height. Janis watches for a moment, strangely fascinated. When she's had enough watching Regina torture herself—and she's surprised at how quickly she reaches this limit—she clears her throat awkwardly and steps forward.

"Here, let me help you," Janis says.

Regina startles and turns. When she realizes it's Janis, she takes a step back, seemingly reflexively, like Janis might start swinging.

"Hey, relax," Janis says, holding up a hand. She points to the shelf. "Which one?"

Regina stares at her for a long moment before quietly saying, "The Color Purple."

Before she can stop herself, Janis lets out a laugh. "For real?"

Regina narrows her eyes. "Why is that funny?"

"Do you not know—" Janis cuts herself off. "You know what? I won't spoil it for you."

Standing on her tiptoes, Janis grasps the book by her fingertips and then hands it to Regina. Enjoy your lesbian awakening, she wants to say, but doesn't.

Regina looks at the book in her hands, frowning intently.

"Is... something wrong?" Janis asks hesitantly. "Do you need a different book?"

Regina looks up, eyeing Janis with the same scrutiny. "You're being nice to me."

"I'm a delightful person," Janis replies, rocking back on her heels.

Regina seems skeptical about this.

"Well, I'm sorry," Regina says, sounding a little like someone is forcefully pulling the words out of her—but hey, it's more than Janis has gotten in five years. "About everything. You know, the stuffed animal and the—"

Janis realizes with a mild amount of panic that Regina's eyes are a little glassy, like she might start crying, and Janis is torn between sprinting away before they start having A Moment in the middle of the fucking library and asking what drugs Regina is on and if she's willing to share.

"Yeah, um, thanks for that," Janis cuts in, because if Regina starts breaking down she doesn't know what she'll do. She has this tangled ball of feelings inside of her, fighting competing urges to wrap Regina in a hug and to dig the knife in deeper, to make Regina suffer the way Janis has.

"Let's not do this here," Janis says, noting the way Regina's face falls, just a little, and the way it kind of makes Janis's chest hurt. "But, for what it's worth, I'm sorry, too."

Regina just nods, again looking at the book in her hands, looking sad and a little embarrassed and absolutely fucking exhausted.

"You know what?" Janis taps the cover of the book. "Text me after you've read this book. We'll talk."

"Okay," Regina says, her voice quiet and hopeful in a way that makes Janis want to reach over and squeeze her hand. She shoves it into her pocket instead.

"Alright, well..." Janis says, gesturing vaguely towards the main part of the library. "See ya."

Regina doesn't answer, just gazes at Janis with a look on her face like she's seeing Janis for the first time ever.

For some reason, Janis feels the same way.

#rejanis #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls the musical #mean girls broadway #regina george #janis 'imi'ike #janis sarkisian #janis ian #ask #anonymous #prompts #another one from the archives!#i be doing detective work in my own inbox trying to figure out which post this prompt came from in 2018

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underprivilegedcactus · 3 days

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Something has been niggling at the back of my mind about Gale and his falling out with Mystra for a while now.

Before we begin, I feel the need to put a disclaimer here and say that I love Gale to pieces and even if this thing I've been thinking about turned out to be canon, I still want to drop kick Mystra. But like I said, a though occured to me about the circumstances of their break up.

In short, what if their breakup wasn't because Gale didn't listen to Mystra when she told him to not go after the piece of the weave he thought was hers? What if, instead, it was the final straw after a long history of Gale going after sources of power that Mystra repeatedly told him to leave alone?

Ignoring the fact that wizards are pushed to always aim higher anyways, we know that Gale is someone who has always sought out more power, opinions of (most) others and consequences be damned. How many terrifyingly powerful objects ended up in his tower because Mystra mentioned them and he decided to collect them? How many did she emphatically tell him to leave alone because they were too dangerous? How many times did he nearly cause a disaster because he assumed that because he was the mighty Gale of Waterdeep, it wouldn't go wrong? How many times did Mystra or Elminster have to save his ass?

To be clear, even if this is the truth it still doesn't justify her treatment of him, but to me it would make a bit more sense as to why she ghosted him after he absorbed the orb. It's still on brand for her to do that after one big disaster, but cutting off all contact is frankly a bit extreme for a first offense, regardless of the magnitude of the failure. But if the orb came after a series of situations where she told him to leave stuff be or to be more patient and he repeatedly refused to listen to her, I think even I would be pissed off enough to not want to talk to him either, at least not for a while.

No one appreciates having their knowledge and advice repeatedly ignored, especially if you are literally the primary source on all things magic. The literal Goddess of Magic told him this was neither something she wanted nor was it something that Gale was equipped to handle, and Gale thought he knew better anyways. And I know there's a million fair reasons as to why Gale is the way he is, the least of which is from going through the Gifted Person (TM) experience where you're told all your life that you're special and head and shoulders above your peers. It's still harmful to believe you know better than people objectively more qualified.

Unfortunately, this can be hard to see under how vile Mystra is to him. I'll probably write about that soon in another novel of a post, but I just wanted to throw out a potential angle that some people might have missed when it comes to Mystra and Gale's breakup. Again, it's not canon, and it's not even my own personal headcanon or anything, but it is something that's come to mind when thinking about their relationship and how it ended. I still love Gale, and if anything this just adds a really interesting potential layer to his backstory.

P.S.: It has also occured to me that Gale was extraordinarily lucky that whatever magical seal he broke when he opened the book didn't just immediately cause the Karsus weave to detonate right then and there and kill thousands of people in Waterdeep. Gale's mistake was honest, but it was an extremely foolish one and entirely preventable.

P.P.S: Editing some typos and also wholeheartedly agreeing that Gale wasn't only looking for raw power, but knowledge and pushing the boundaries of the weave! ☺️

#gale dekarios #bg3 #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav

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starlight-write · 2 days

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Hello!!

I'm not sure if you can write it, I would be very happy if you write it.

I want ler alastor and lee Lucifer and Charlie.

I don't know, he might be in Alastor mode and want to catch the two of them (of course, with his tentacles, otherwise how can he fight them alone) he may make fun of "the king and heir of hell is quite ticklish" but I especially want Lee to outweigh Lucifer.

I hope you write

Royal Weakness

A/N: First of all, thank you so much to everyone who voted in the poll and to everyone who sent in their requests! I will admit this one was a bit of a challenge for me and I was on crunch time while writing it but figured I needed to get something out for y'all sometime this year lol. So yeah, not proof read and extremely rushed but hope you enjoy anyways!! <3

Relationships: Ler!Alastor, Lee!Charlie, Lee!Lucifer

Word Count: 2117

Summary: Charlie makes a bet with her father that lands them both into trouble.

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

Charlie let out a scream as the tendril lifted her off the ground.

The princess had made a break for it, hoping to escape her smiling friend after he made it clear he was done with her bullshit.

The demon had no clue what had gotten into her but she had been following him around all morning hellbent on testing his patience. First it was the constant yapping, random pokes, random questions, hugging him almost every other minute. It wasn't long before Alastor retreated into his tower to get away from that wide-eyed pest.

The last thing he expected was for her to follow him in there. God, she was behaving like some snot-nosed toddler in an antique store. Bombarding him with a million questions as she put her grubby little hands on whatever she could reach.

What's worse is that he knew what she was trying to do. He'd known the girl long enough by now to decipher what her intentions were at any given moment and in that moment, it was crystal clear that she was fucking with him.

Unfortunately for him, Charlie also knew him well enough to know exactly how to push his buttons.

The demon was about to give into her game and share a laugh, he really was. Until she brought up his nemesis.

"This place could use some touching up." Charlie smiled as she dragged a finger on the table and inspected it for dust. "Y'know, I'd figured you'd pick up a thing or two about maintenance from your little bestie. Seeing as you go out of your way to impress him."

Alastor froze. "My what now?"

"Your best friend, Vox?" She grinned, knowing she had won. "I mean seeing how close the two of you are I'd hope he would rub off on you a bit. It's obvious that you look up to him and all, it's very sweet- AAAAH!"

Yeah THAT was the last straw.

Alastor finally snapped and exploded into his demon form that filled the room. That was when Charlie made a break for the door only to be swept up by her feet by one of the demon's tendrils.

The princess hung upside down and couldn't help but laugh at the reaction she'd managed to pull from her friend.

Alastor, however, was not laughing. God he was pissed. It wasn't even noon yet and this brat had somehow managed to make him lose every morsel of composure he'd carefully sustained over the years. Only for her to laugh in his face once she got the reaction she wanted. Yeah, this is why Alastor never had kids.

"Oh, this is funny to you?" He growled, smiling angrily down at her. Which only seemed to make her laugh even harder.

The demon shrank back into his normal form. Breathing deeply as he regained his composure. Though still clearly pissed off.

As much as he hated to admit it, he appreciated his friend's mischievous behavior at times. Hell, most of the time he would play along with it and direct her antics towards any other demon in the hotel. It's always fun being on the other side of the joke, and no one really expects to be blind-sided by the same girl who farted sunshine and rainbows. But jeez she really knew how to work someone's nerves.

Alastor didn't want to hurt her even if he could. Of course not, she was one of his dearest friends at this point. But that didn't mean she was going to get away with this.

"Okay, sunshine." The demon hissed through his smile. "You want to laugh? I'll give you something to laugh about."

Alastor relished the split second that smirk was wiped off her face before it was replaced by the girls hysterical screams.

Charlie shrieked and thrashed violently as she felt the demon's claws scribble rapidly on the backs of her knees.

"NO-! NO- AL-AAAAAHAHAHA!!! WAIT!- NO-WAIT PLEHEHEEEHAHAHAAAAA!!!"

Another tendril came up to hold the girls arms together as he blindly flailed around. Charlie was ridiculously ticklish enough as it is, barely ever lasting a minute before being thrown into silent laughter. So needless to say, Alastor going straight for her death spot was just down right cruel.

"STOOP-!!! STOPSTOPSTOP PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!"

Tears began to form in her eyes as that horrible tingly feeling spread throughout her body. To lost in her hysterics to even beg the other for mercy.

Alastor was far from finished, but could tell the girl needed a breather. Stopping for a moment to pace around the room as his friend dangled upside down and caught her breath.

"Heavens, you don't understand how lucky you are that we're friends." He growled, still pacing back and forth in an attempt at releasing some of his energy. "I've torn apart souls for far less than half of what you've put me through today, so congratulations. Consider yourself blessed that you're to ridiculously sensitive for me to take all my anger out on you at once, otherwise we'd be here all day!"

Charlie didn't dare laugh at this point in fear of provoking the man again. Even upside down, she could feel his eyes prying at her, no doubt to gauge when she's had enough oxygen to continue his little torture session. She wondered if this is what it was like to be a victim of one of his broadcasts. God, she prayed he wouldn't get the idea to broadcast this as well.

The demon stalked back over to her once he's decided she's had enough time to recover.

Charlie panicked. Her mind racing to come up with anything that could pull her out of the grave she'd dug for herself. Maybe if she could just deflect the blame he'd leave her alone...?

"It was dad's idea!" She blurted out.

The deer stopped in his tracks. Silence filling the room as the two stared at one another.

Charlie fell to the floor as the tendrils holding her in place suddenly disappeared. She pushed herself up off the ground, knees still a bit wobbly from leftover tingles. Brushing herself off as she regained her senses.

"His idea?" Charlie hesitated, not so sure now if she had just made the situation better or worse.

"Umm...yeah?" She admitted sheepishly. "I- uh...I made a bet."

Alastor felt his eye twitch but stayed silent and let her continue.

"Yeah, so the deal was that if I could get you to snap before noon he'd take Vaggie and I out for lunch. Apparently he thinks it's really funny when you're mad, plus he knew you wouldn't hurt me but I'm not so sure it's worth it anymore." Charlie gave a nervous laugh.

The demon stared at her for a moment, watching her fidget nervously as he thought up new recipes for angel wings.He took a deep breath and gave his friend a sweet smile.

"Well, congratulations on winning your little bet dear." He said, patting her head sweetly. "I do hope you all enjoy your little outing, hopefully it'll be worth all the trouble it caused you."

Charlie scratched the back of her head nervously and avoided his gaze. "Yeah. Sorry about all of that. Guess I just got carried away. No hard feeling, right?"

"Oh not at all, dear!" Alastor grinned. "Trust me, I understand going to great lengths in order to win a bet. Although, I can't say I think it's all that fair that I took my anger out of you instead of the person who put you in this situation in the first place."

Charlie looked at him confused. "What do you mean?"

Alastor laughed. "I mean, it's only fair that your father suffer the same consequences you endured. Seeing that he had just as much of a hand in this as yourself."

The girl smiled, recognizing her friend's playful tone. "Ooooh. Haha, sounds good to me if it lets me off the hook. Just don't hurt him, deal?"

"Deal."

A few moments later...

It was half passed noon when Lucifer heard his phone ring. Charlie had texted him to meet her in her bedroom for details.

The king excitedly teleported to his destination, politely knocking first before being told to come in.

The man couldn't see a thing upon opening the door. The curtains were drawn and the lights were off making the room pitch black.

He squinted his eyes as he felt the wall for the light switch but just as he reached it, a hand snatched his arm and yanked him into the room. The door slammed shut behind him and he was thrown into complete darkness.

"Uh, Charlie?" He called out and jumped when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him from behind.

"It's me! It's me." Charlie laughed, still hugging her father.

"Oh jeez, kiddo Don't scare me like that." He laughed. "What's going on? Why ya got all the lights off?"

"No reason." She laughed.

Yeah something was up.

"I won the bet by the way." She continued. "But I did run into a bit of trouble with Alastor after he finally snapped. And I maaaaay or may not have sold you out."

"What happened?! Did he hurt you? I swear I'll kill that prick if he so much as-AAH!!!" The king was cut off as he felt another set of hands place themselves on his sides.

"Not exactly." The voice said in front of him.

Lucifer's eyes had adjusted just enough to make out that red prick in front of him but before he had the chance to cuss him out, the demon began rapidly squeezing his sides.

He managed to hold in his laughter as he struggled to free his arms as Charlie moved them behind his back. Still holding him tight in her traitorous 'hug'.

"What the fuhuhuck are you two doing?!"

"You got sold out." Alastor chimed as he began kneeding his thighs. "Poor Charlie had to suffer the consequences of making me lose my temper, an impressive feet might I add, and spilled everything about your little bet."

"Sorry dad, my hands were tied. Alastor tickled me for so long I almost passed out." She laughed apologetically.

"You lasted a minute and a half, I counted." Alastor corrected and Charlie was grateful no one could see her face grow red.

Meanwhile Lucifer was not listening to any of this, to focused on keeping his laughter in as those claws continued to pinch up and down his legs no matter how hard he kicked.

A moment passed and the King was still holding out much to the demon's annoyance. Charlie was honestly giggling more than her father was.

Alastor looked up at his friend. "Say Charlie, do you think bad knees run in the family?"

Charlie stuttered a bit and felt her face grow hot again. "I-I uh-no! I mean...I don't know."

The demon shrugged as he fought to get a grip on the angel's thrashing legs. "Well, only one way to find out I suppose." And with that, he began scribbling his claws on the back of one of Lucifer's knees just as he's done to Charlie earlier.

"AAAAAAHHH!!! AAAHAHAHAHA- QUIHIHIT!!! QUIHIHIT IT YOU AAHAHAHA-!"

"I guess it does!" Alastor laughed triumphantly.

A few more minutes of this passed by, Lucifer handling the torture a lot better than his daughter had.

Charlie was sure Alastor could go on all night, but she was promised a nice outing with her father and girfriend plus her arms were getting tired.

"Okay, Alastor I think that's enough."

"Oh Dear, I was just warming up!" The demon pouted. "Very well. I suppose he's had his fill." And with that Charlie released the grip she had on the other angel, carefully following him to the floor as he caught his breath.

"You..." Lucifer huffed and pointed to the radio demon. "Are so dead."

Charlie looked a bit startled at her father's tone and quickly gave Alastor the signal to run.

He wasn't fazed in the slightest, of course.

"Yes, yes. You can maim me all you like but i do believe you promised Charlie a nice little outing did you not?" He smiled.

Lucifer huffed as Charlie helped him to his feet.

"You're lucky Charlie considers your dumbass a friend." He shot back.

The demon gave a satisfied hum before waving the two off and disappearing into the shadows.

And yes, the rest of the evening was lovely. The three angels enjoyed their time together outside the hotel for once. But Lucifer couldn't help but think of all the ways he was going to get back at the demon when the time had come. He was a man of his word, after all.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #sfw tickling community #hazbin hotel tickle #hazbin hotel tickles #tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickling #lee!charlie #lee!lucifer #ler!alastor #my stuff

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tired-reader-writer · 3 days

Text

Okay so for some unknowable reason I fell into watching a let's play series of a horror game, and now I'll definitely be jumping at shadows for the foreseeable future until the spell wears off. I'm not good with horror. I knew this, and yet I felt compelled to watch it—

But enough about me, let's kinda vomit out the AU brain mulch that has formed in my head in an incoherent manner.

This has to do with Hilmes, Ranna/Ashaya, and the Haunted Temple™ that will be featuring in the fic.

I would highly recommend you check out the link first to get some context on what the everloving fuck I'm talking about because this thing ain't coherent, baby!

Also, some stuff might contradict each other, I'm still trying to suss out what works and what doesn't, this is basically unfiltered brain soup.

Folk tale added to the Temple, it's deep in the woods, “don't go into the woods, don't go into the ruins, it'll eat you up” is a cautionary tale everyone knows about.

Wonky time mechanics. You wander into the Temple, you've only been there for a hour you swear but you come back out months later.

Folk tale as a foreshadowing device: a royal princess was said to have been snatched up by a bandit in this region— some say she was kidnapped, others say she fell in love with this bandit. Who knows, really? Is the tale even true?

The above folk legend as a foreshadowing device for Ashaya being 1) a secret princess, 2) joining the clan though I guess it's not much of a foreshadowing since they'll most likely be gone w Farangis in the same chapter the myth is mentioned [because the clan got mistaken for bandits and got killed in the first chapter, remember?], 3) falling in love with Alfarīd aka a bandit.

The tale could also be an “explanation” for a princess that actually went missing— a young woman who wandered into the temple for some reason (unclear) finds out something so terrible that she can't bear to face the world outside again.

(it's about Kaykhusraw's betrayal)

I'm still not sure whether I'll actually keep the princess part. It could be a neat bit of foreshadowing for Hilmes discovering smth, maybe he sees an imprint of her, but I feel there's no way to communicate her journey effectively in the story since nobody actually knows what happened to her

Still though, I like the idea of Parsian royal women having worldbuilding and perhaps even plot relevance. I don't think the family tree thing from the novel extras (iirc??) even provided female members of the royal line. Tanaka, I swear.

It'll be forever before we actually get to that point but I'm actually worried about writing Hilmes' (terrible terrible) time in the haunted temple turning into a side quest problem if you know what I mean? An arc/event so divorced from the rest of the plot and world that screeches the pacing to a grinding halt. I mean, the temple tumble is necessary to his character growth, but it really has the potential to become... tedious to read.

For the record, I'm worried about Alfarīd and Ashaya's scenes having this same problem too, since they break off from the rest of the cast to have an adventure together. But at least having them have a plot progression that ties into other plot threads is easier than doing the same with Hilmes because they're not trapped in an isolated location.

Wait, info about the bells can actually be revealed here, and not have the clan remember throughout? Or if they did remember the bells existing then the locations of where the bells had vanished to could be received from the temple.

They'll need to decode it first, though.

Okay, I'm not sure what to do with the Rukhnabad. I was originally gonna have Hilmes not pull it out and cause problems but I... kinda need the damn thing for the plot. Maybe he gets Shooketh™ from whatever he learned in the temple that it compromises his ability to be chill about the looming threat and he yoinks it out of desperation—

(or maybe Ashaya can be the one to take it, as a twist, though what would their reasoning for doing so be?)

SYMBOLISM SYMBOLISM SYMBOLISM

Okay, so, death.

Sherine (Ashaya's original name before they changed it upon joining the clan) is dead. She died when she disappeared into the woods.

The clan has a death-and-rebirth thing going on. Someone joins the clan, they either choose to keep their name or not, but the self they were before they joined is gone, dead to the world, essentially. They could not belong in the living world, hence why they joined the “dead”. Folks who had complicated relationships with the parents who gave them their name, their old families, their old selves, those people typically discard their names (as Ashaya, Kashi, Kazai, etc did) while those who had a positive relationship with their families but lost them in a traumatic way would keep their names (as Farangis and Gieve would). I know I've talked about this before but I can't remember if I put it in a post or in a comment.

Y'know the changeling thing? The died-but-came-back-wrong thing? The same principle, it's not literal, mind you, it's a metaphorical, symbolic thing.

So, a secret royal child goes into or near this place and is reborn as someone else (Ashaya)

Only years later, another secret royal goes into this place, gets trapped in it, and is reborn anew (Hilmes)

Words are not wording rn but you get the idea, right?

Also, mentioned somewhere that the temple holds onto things of the past, aka if you have a belonging on your person that represents something from the past that you cling onto, bye-bye item, you're not getting that back.

Aka, the temple snatched Hilmes' mask because it's a representation of his fixation w the past and everything that's tied to it aka his trauma his identity his sense of self etc etc

Hilmes can't get out bc he built his everything around his past, ergo, his whole person is a figment of the past

Like recognizes like, hence why he's trapped until he's forced to build a new identity that doesn't revolve around his, well, everything

Ashaya probably didn't get trapped bc, well, kid's not fixated to the past they just wanted out (from their shitty family situation)

Bloodstains, screams, inexplicable items vanishing and manifesting, hallucinations/visions that were probably actual memories of the past, Hilmes is not gonna have a fun time

The temple's haunted but in like, an intangible way, so to speak? No literal spooky ghosts floating about, they're fused to the building so the building itself is a haunting, you get what I mean?

Maybe there is one tangible ghost Hilmes can actually see. Maybe two, if I end up keeping the royal lady.

Okay, maybe I won't keep the royal lady.

But something could guide him through this whole ordeal and lead him to whatever truth bombs it wants to reveal.

Could his parentage be revealed here? Unlikely, the temple's hauntedness is it basically reliving the past over and over, not much space for... hm.

Maybe Kaykhusraw's journals could appear inside— no, no, probably too far-fetched.

So many specifics I need to nail down.

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #heroic legend of arslan #wolfpack au #winds of wolfsong #hilmes #ranna (oc)#ashaya (oc)#gods I need to sort out her tag #AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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chevelleneech · 2 days

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Tim..?

I have never seen Vertigo nor read up on what it’s about, so I can’t form a full opinion on what the storyline will end up being. I can’t even say if I think Tim plans to pull from it in full or put his own spin on it.

What I will say— based on how people are explaining the plot of the movie and how Eddie, Shannon, Kim, and Buck fit each character— I hope Tim is ready for whatever blowback he gets if it goes south. Death threats and things like that are a hard no, but fan complaints should be expected if he is using a movie in which best friends fall in love after an, “I’m seeing me dead flame in another woman” storyline, yet doesn’t equal Buddie being canon.

And I say this, because at some point he’s got to let Buddie go if he doesn’t want to make them canon. At some point, even with Buck being canonically bisexual now, he has to end the anticipation. This storyline might be how he plans to do that, so I’m interested to see how it plays out, but I am nervous for Buddie shippers who are more invested in them going canon than I am. Because if the plot of this movie is what people are saying, why choose it unless the plan is to at the very least, address the age old elephant in the room?

I worry that Tim loves Buck and Eddie’s bond and even ships them, but is also likely to take the approach of keeping Eddie straight because it will ruffle less feathers overall. It’s unfortunately a big risk to have two macho, previously presumed straight characters who have dated and slept with multiple women in canon, discover themselves to be queer and in love. Yes, the backlash for Buck was mild in comparison to what it could have been, but it was still there. So part of me can see why they’d not do it again. Especially with a character from the army.

At the same time, I am also curious about what will happen if Tim does choose to have Buck realize he’s in love with Eddie. It doesn’t have to mean he’ll break up with Tommy, and he’ll have four months (I heard they’re back in the Fall, but idk) to write 8a and hammer out details, but idk. We’ll have to wait and see.

Either way, I sincerely hope this is more or less the end of the “Will They, Won’t They.” regarding Buddie. It’s been five seasons, four of which was on a network that shutdown any altering of lead character sexualities (at least of Buck’s), and now on a new network that green lit Buck being bi, but may not green light Eddie. So I’m sorry, but I think by s8 an answer needs to be clearly stated. No matter what the final answer is.

There are so many other characters who can be getting screen time if we put a nail in the coffin that is Buck and Eddie having romantic based scenes without the romance, lol. Hen and Karen for example, could be getting quite a few, but maybe that’s just me?

And I’m not saying Buck and Eddie shouldn’t have scenes together anymore, but Tim and co. seem to know how to write platonically for Chim and Hen, Maddie and Josh, Buck and Chim, Chim and Bobby, and Athena and Hen, yet somehow they can’t do it for Buck and Eddie? I don’t buy it. It’s been intentionally written in since the start, but never green lit. Now is the time to draw the line, is all I’m saying.

#911 abc #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley

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lets-try-some-writing · 2 days

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Ohoho I have a fun idea for The Moon, (I just got that idea last night and really wanted to share it, SO YOU SAYING YOU WANT OUR IDEAS IS JUST SO PERFECT) and it just got WAY longer that I anticipated, oh no…anyway enjoy :

So we humans, despite how harsh and unprotected from solar wind and radiation Moons surface is, still want to, if not fully colonize, then at least put some kind of research base, or a point between Earth and Mars (in some of my favorite sci-fi novels The Moon is always colonized/with scientific bases).

-and then it hit me – Humans are Moons Citizens - what if (in main or AU of an AU XD) when humans finally got to the point of living on The Moon, what if this titan just adopted them as his new citizens? :D

Why? Well idk, maybe he softened a little over the eons, or Erath just convinced him to give humanity a chance – after all, so far the best ideas for moon bases are either buildings covered in the lunar regolith (you know, solar wind and radiation) or just build some in one of the bigger caves. After a while he just accepted and grew fond of them as his new (weird) citizens.

And while writing it I got another thought – Marss reaction when humans just suddenly land on his surface, build bases, and what is that “potato” thing?, and – HEY! PUT MY ADOPTED ROVERS DOWN!

Moon personally wouldn't be all that happy with the fleshies opting to build on him. He holds little love for Earth's children, especially since they hurt her with every breath. However, he would have have to commend them for bothering to make it all the way to his surface in light of the difficulties involved with the journey. Those few who can get to him would be allowed a grace period. Moon is of the opinion that if a race wishes to progress, they must do so without direct aid. A Titan is meant to guard and nurture, not pave the way forward. That thought process is directly thrown into his opinion of humans potentially colonizing his surface.

They would not be allowed deep enough into his frame to reach the hidden places reserved for his Cybertronian citizens. Those places are sacred, only to be inhabited by Cybertronians he deems worthy. However, the humans that can stick it out on his surface without breaking too many of his rules would be welcomed. They can reside within him, to a certain extent. But they would learn very quickly that Moon has exactly ZERO tolerance for citizens who harm him purposefully. Any humans on his surface would have to adapt and become very good at getting what they need without harming him, or they might very well find themselves exposed to Moon's immune system.

The few who make it through his gauntlet would be granted his protection and care. Their descendants would need to follow the unspoken rules, but so long as those rules are followed, he would grow to care for them eventually. The fleshies are HIS weird cleaning crew citizens. They receive safety, warmth, and breathable air. In return, all they need to do is keep him in decent shape. It's nice to be polished after all. It is all but guaranteed that in such an instance, a Moon cult would form eventually. Humans aren't stupid. They would learn the place they called home had a mind of its own eventually.

If anyone asks, Moon does not claim them as his citizens. They are his cleaners. However, if touched, he can and will retaliate with the vengeance of a Titan whose precious children have been wronged. Earth would be thrilled at the development and take extra care to try and ensure only the hardiest of her children make it up to Moon. No need for extra deaths when Moon only wants the strong anyway.

As for Mars? Well he would be thrilled to find that new citizens want to reside within him! He's not a functionalist jerk like his dear brother Moon, so he is more than willing to make room on his frame for the humans so long as they don't hurt him. Oh and they can't take his rovers (sparklings) either. He wants his little ones to grow up in peace until he can get the Allspark. Those who disobey will be very politely told to go back to Earth. Failure to obey will result in Pluto taking the offenders instead. Pluto, being an attack grade Titan, does have room for citizens. However, citizens must work to earn their keep. A very active Titan does not equate to a very comfortable living experience.

The poor sods sent to Pluto get to live as though they are traversing the north sea until Pluto says they have served long enough to go to Earth or another Titan.

None of the Titans know what to make of the whole potato nonsense.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #unicron and earth au #moon #mars #pluto #earth #alternate universe #the titans do their best #moon may be a bit speciesist #but he tries

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sheliesshattered · 2 years

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I’m just so tired

#things with my dad are getting significantly worse. with terminal brain cancer that's pretty much the only direction things can go #but his mental state is deteriorating quickly. multiple massive brain tumors will do that to you but now it's accelerating #I described it to one of my siblings that it's like Dad's mind is a big jigsaw puzzle and for a year now it's been clear that #the once-whole puzzle is breaking into pieces. for awhile the pieces were still pretty big and he could still carry on a conversation well #he might not remember it 15 minutes later but get him talking about an old memory or something he's an expert on and he could just go on #I've been calling him twice a week for months now. since Mom first suggested we work on writing a book together #in the month since we decided to give that up as a lost cause Dad has gotten noticeably worse. he's gone from losing his train of thought #to talking complete nonsense in a scrambled combination of old memories and things he once read about -- smaller and smaller puzzle pieces #and as things have taken a downward term I know from talking to Mom separately that Dad is also having a lot of trouble with basic self care #balance and bathing and eating and knowing where he is and all kinds of things. all of which is made worse by his memory problems #and by the fact that he outweighs my mom by a good 100lbs. so when he fell in the tub and couldn't get himself out she had to call for help #had to have a church friend who is more than a foot taller than her drive over to help maneuver my dad out of the bathtub #he's also getting obstinate and angry and saying that my mom and my nb sibling who lives with them are the ones with mental problems #all of which means I think they're going to need in-home healthcare ASAP. if not a round-the-clock facility. it's coming sooner or later #but Dad still hasn't officially retired so he's still on his own insurance which apparentlydoesn't have any coverage for that sort of thing #so Mom has to get him to file the paperwork to officially retire and then get him on her insurance. hopefully without a huge confrontation #and I feel like we're running out of time. that he's going to need that care before all the paperwork has time to clear once its started #I feel like we've been barely surviving horrific river rapids and now I'm the ONLY one pointing out that there's a massive waterfall coming #ignoring it won't make it go away or take longer to get here. it'll just hit us with even fewer preparations in place #I have enlisted the help of siblings so hopefully we can convince Mom of the importance of getting the paperwork started #but Mom is so mired in her own grief and busy with work (and she can't quit bc of the health insurance) and unable to get the help she needs #that it's tricky to bring up any of this sort of thing in a helpful way. and all the while Dad is getting worse #meanwhile I'm trying to deal with my own grief and manage my own chronic health situation. and still call Dad twice a week just to chat #and holy hell I'm just so TIRED

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inkoutsidethelines · 1 year

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Thinking about how I would write an adult Scooby-Doo series, because I think it can be done.

The first thing I’d do is make the characters actually be adults. Still young, but adults, in the mid to late 20s range. Mystery Inc. is a private detective type business that they run together. In this universe, the supernatural/ghosts/etc are real, but not necessarily common, so when they take on a case, the culprit might be a person disguised as a monster, or it might actually be a real ghost. The stakes can be higher; sometimes a bad guy is legitimately trying to kill them. Sometimes the mystery they’re trying to solve is a murder. Sometimes they actually get hurt on their cases.

Fred: the core of Fred’s character should be that he’s incredibly kind. Like, give a stranger the shirt off his back kind. The “Fred can’t talk to potential clients because he might take a case for free and we need to eat” kind. He’s an honest and good person and sometimes gets himself into trouble because he assumes other people are too. While he’s not very good at reading people or noticing ulterior motives, he’s brilliant when it comes to mechanical or engineering type stuff, so he’s the one who keeps the mystery machine running, builds their gadgets, and of course, designs the traps.

Daphne: she comes from old money, and her parents absolutely despise her life choices, to the point where they haven’t officially disowned her, but they have basically cut her off, so she doesn’t actually have access to any family money. Growing up wealthy has granted her a variety of skills, including speaking multiple languages, horseback riding, and fencing. She’s very into fashion and jewelry (even if she can’t afford it anymore) and has extensive knowledge of both that can occasionally provide a vital clue in a case. And even though her parents have cut her off, Daphne still has a wide network of contacts she can ask for favors sometimes, because she’s personable, and people tend to like her. Daphne is also very emotionally intelligent, and is usually the one who can spot when someone is lying to them.

Side note - I ship Fred and Daphne, so I think I would start them off as an established couple for this universe. Dating, engaged, married, I don’t care. They are stupidly in love, ride or die for each other. There’s no will they, won’t they, no worries about cheating. They are in a healthy, happy, loving relationship, and no one (not even Daphne’s disapproving parents) are going to mess that up for them.

Velma: she is the forensics nerd who sometimes gets super excited about the wrong thing at the wrong time (”He was mummified in seconds? That’s so cool!” “Velma! His wife is standing right there!” “Oh. Sorry.”). She’s not purposely insensitive, she just gets laser focused on her work and forgets to filter herself sometimes. She’s also the one who can get so fixated on solving whatever mystery they’re working on, she’s willing to bend or maybe break laws. Is breaking and entering really so bad? Not if it gets them answers.

Shaggy: he is still the comic relief, but he’s the comic relief by being the only person in the group that actually has common sense. He manages the business’s finances, he’s the only one who knows how to cook, and the others tease him for being a coward sometimes, but Shaggy maintains that if a ghost with an axe is coming for you, running is the only sensible option. He should also have a range of random knowledge that sounds useless, but sometimes saves the day (ex ventriloquism, origami, the history of spoons, etc).

Scooby: as this is a universe where supernatural creatures exist, Scooby is an ancient eldritch type being that took a shine to Shaggy when he was a kid, and took the form of a talking dog to befriend and hang out with him. Aside from the talking dog bit and not aging, he never uses his powers in a way that anyone notices. The audience is not told upfront that Scooby is an ancient eldritch being; it should slowly be hinted at throughout the series so the audience put it together, but the characters never realize it. Scooby genuinely considers Shaggy to be his best friend, and cares about the rest of the gang too.

#ink speaks #scooby doo #i like the vibes of a grown up scooby doo #where they're part of a mystery solving business #it needs to be a monster of the week type deal #so that it can play around with the character dynamics #because i think that's fun #long post

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shitacademicswrite · 1 year

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I want to share something for those of you who are teaching and want your conservative students to be more open-minded to liberal ideas that you’re presenting.

I grew up in a conservative family and a conservative town, and like most conservative kids, had been told that colleges were hotbeds of liberalism, so I was already defensive politically when I started college. My first semester or two I was really skeptical of everything political that my professors presented me with.

And then I took a women’s studies course (required at my college). And on the first day, the professor said,

“You don’t have to be a feminist. There are days when I’m not a feminist. But we’re going to discuss feminist ideas in this class, and you might find that you agree with some of them and disagree with others, and that’s fine.”

And that took the pressure off. By telling me that I didn’t HAVE to be a feminist, that I didn’t HAVE to agree, that professor started me on the road to becoming a feminist. I particularly remember her giving us information about what a huge percentage of the housework was still done by women, even in [hetero] couples where both the man and woman worked outside the home. And after that I remember saying, “I’m not a feminist, but I can see where they’re coming from.”

Within 5 years, I was claiming the term and coming out to my mom as a feminist.

So when I taught college writing, I assigned politically liberal essays to my students, many of whom came from conservative backgrounds. And before they read the first one, I would say,

“The reading for the next class--I want you to know that you don’t have to agree with it. You don’t have to agree with anything that your professors teach you in college. But the point of a college education is to have your mind opened to other points of view. So you’re not required to agree, but you are required to approach the reading with an open mind. You might find that you agree with some things the author says and disagree with others. And that’s cool! We WANT you to use your critical thinking and decide for yourself what you think about things! But to do that, you need to give people the benefit of the doubt and be open-minded to what they have to say.”

And I have to say, it worked really well for me! I remember in particular that after I assigned the essay “Black Men and Public Space”, one of my students wrote in her reading reflection,

“I was taught in school that racism in America ended with Martin Luther King. I am appalled to discover that this is not true.”

Priming your students to be open-minded, while also encouraging them to use critical thinking, can help to break down some of the automatic defenses against new ideas that students are often taught. Approaching your students’ comments during discussion with an open-minded view yourself, validating their experiences while also making gentle counterarguments, can do a lot as well.

#teaching #college #education #pedagogy #persuasion

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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It takes a lot to break a ghost. After all, even death didn’t keep them down for long, not in any way that mattered.

There is, however, a sure fire way to utterly crush a ghost’s core without even touching it.

Find their grave, and defile it.

It is the height of cruelty. It is the ultimate act of disrespect. It is violation, of the deepest kind, an act that can never, ever be allowed to go unpunished.

As Danny stared at the remains of the toppled over rock tower that Tucker and Sam had made for him all those years ago, to honor his death, he wasn’t sure if he could survive this.

——

Please.

Zatanna looked around. The magician knew better than to write off the sound as a trick of her mind.

You have to help him. Please. He’s just a child.

“Who? What’s wrong?” Zatanna asked, heart aching for the grieving whispers of the young voice.

My brother. His grave. It’s been destroyed. Please.

Zatanna’s hair stood on ends. “What’s his name? Where is it?”

Amity Park. His name is Phantom. Please. Hurry.

Her heart skipped a beat. Phantom. The name of the Infinite Realm’s Champion, the future king.

“Shit. I’m on my way. Can you lead me there?”

I can’t. I won’t be here for much longer. Tell him Jazz sent you. Please. Help him. Help him.

“I will.”

When Zatanna portals out of her dressing room, she catches a flash of red hair.

——

“CONSTANTINE!”

“Gah! Zatanna?” John Constantine fell out of his chair, legs slipping from their place propped onto the table.

“Emergency! Infinite Realms level. Someone destroyed Phantom’s grave.”

Constantine scrambled upwards, pulling on his coat as his mind all but bleated like a highland goat at the sound of “Infinite Realms” and “Phantom’s grave.” Destroying a ghost’s grave might destroy the ghost, but if they survive the initial splintering, right before their final death, they’ll explode in a ball of fury. Normally, it would be slightly less of a problem. Normally, it wouldn’t be the most powerful ghost in the Infinite Realms. Normally, this wouldn’t happen. Normally, even if it did, it wouldn’t risk a war none of the universes would win. The Infinite Realms loves prince Phantom. Their grief over this… even if he survives, the consequences would be unimaginable.

“You contact the League. I have to go fix this, right now.”

John doesn’t bother going for his hottle, because he unfortunately needed to do this sober.

“Go, go!”

——

Danny doesn’t turn even as he hears the crunch of grass blades. He sits, staring blankly at what used to be his grave marker.

“Hi, there,” it’s a woman. She sounds sad. Danny understands, because all he feels is a whistling hole where his heart used to be. “Are you Phantom?”

Danny sighs, ice crackling at his lungs. He knows, when this is over, he’ll find it in himself to rage. If he doesn’t shatter from this, he knows he’ll take Amity out. Perhaps he’d spare this one. It’s been a long time since anyone bothered visiting or even knew about his grave.

“Your highness…your sister sent me. Jazz?”

That got Danny’s attention. Glowing green eyes peeked from the curled ball of ghost to stare Zatanna down.

She swallowed.

“She… had red hair?”

“Why are you here?” Why did she send you? He doesn’t say. Zatanna seems to understand anyways.

“To help. Please, will you let me help?”

Danny looks down at the ice freezing her feet to the ground and thinks of the kind set of her eyes, the steel backing her spine, the carefully nonthreatening posture. Yes, Jazz would send this kind of person to help him.

The ice melts.

“Thank you.”

Danny watches as she approaches his destroyed grave. She glances back for his permission. He shrugs. It’s destroyed. Nothing would ever bring it back.

And then, he was proven wrong.

Zatanna’s eyes glow, and the stones began melding itself back together- no, it was reversing the damage and zooming back to its proper place.

“Oh.”

The damage to his core was still there. But… he won’t kill this one at all.

Or her friends, who stand at the edge of the clearing with the soul-torn one standing at the helm.

“Is this… alright, your highness?”

Danny stares at Zatanna. His voice is hoarse but… but it’s not on the verge of insanity anymore.

“Do you always come to graves without an offering?”

He knows he’s being rude. He’s past the point of caring. Zatanna’s response is to pull a bouquet of lilies from behind her back.

——

Phantom’s face is so young, and it’s even younger when he smiles.

“Not always,” Zatanna replies, rolling her eyes. But when she settles the flowers down, they’re gently placed.

“Can you magic clovers around it?” Phantom asks, that note of painful hope cracking her own heart. She wonders how old he was when he died.

“Of course.”

A field of clovers surrounds the rock tower, and Zatanna adds four layers of heavy wards around the area when she grows them. Phantom notices, and looks up at her with… trust.

“I am Zatanna. Your sister, Jazz, sent me.”

“Okay. You can call me Phantom.”

——

“I want their heads.” Danny says.

“We don’t kill.”

“Then hand them over to us, for they have hurt the Great One. They will answer for their crimes.” Frostbite settles a hand on Danny’s shoulder.

“Alright.”

“Constantine.”

Constantine somehow manages to drag Batman away to hiss in his ears.

“Shit in a hole, Batsy, I’m not fucking with the Infinite Realms. My demons won’t fuck with the Infinite Realms. Destroying a ghost’s grave is an act of war, and an act of complete violation, and we’re lucky Phantom liked Zee enough not to completely bring ruin to our universe. So shut up, and get the bastards that did this.”

“Hm.”

——

Zatanna sits in the visitors chair, Batman’s and Constantine’s disgruntled selves standing behind her.

“How old are you, Phantom?”

“Hm?” The future King looks exhausted, understandably. “Oh, sixteen.”

“You’re… sixteen? That’s how old you look, right?”

She’s hoping that he’s older, that he’s a millennia and a half years old. Because if he wasn’t, whoever broke Phantom’s grave, broke the grave of a child.

“No, I’m sixteen. My body looks fourteen. I died when I was fourteen.”

Constantine swears.

Batman straightens and walks out, fists clenched.

Zatanna eases the hum of hunting magic at her finger tips and smiles at Phantom until he sleeps.

Then, she gets up, and hunts.

#zatanna #danny phantom #dc x dp #batman #bruce wayne #the Justice League #john constantine #the consequences of destroying a final resting place #crisis averted #ghost prince danny

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queers-gambit · 8 months

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Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

browse the Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

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