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eternalstann · 4 years

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Crushes & Co-Stars

You and Tom are in an interview together when you have an unexpected guest. Tom finally realizes what he needs to do. So he does that...and more.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Smut!!!! + jealous!Tom ;)

You’re trying your hardest to concentrate on the woman interviewing you and Tom for your upcoming movie, it just felt like every person you talked to was leading you closer to something you couldn’t put your finger on.

“Tom who’s been your favorite person to work with so far?”

Tom doesn’t even hesitate, “Jake Gyllenhaal”

You gasp, “I’m telling Jacob and Zendaya!”

“What, you know that’s my husband! And I told you we could listen to ONE One Direction song on the way here, NOT the whole album. That’s a strike for you” he jokes.

“So Y/N, you’ve always been a big fan of One Direction! Are you excited for their possible reunion?” the interviewer asks and you feel the entirety of your teenage years flash before your eyes.

“Oh absolutely! I just hope they wait until after the movie is out, cause if they do get back together I won’t be able to focus on anything else!” You joke, nudging Tom.

Your costar nods in exaggerated agreement, “Trust me, I’ve seen the pictures of her childhood bedroom. I know”

You giggle and shrug, “What can I say? They just had that one thing”

Tom groans, “That was so corny”

He pretends to be unimpressed but you can see the ghost of a smile on his lips. Talking about a movie for weeks - day in and day out got boring. But doing it with you made it all worth it for him.

“Well then Y/N, we have a little surprise for you” the interviewer goes on and your eyebrows furrow. A surprise?

You watch as the door to the small interview room opens and you nearly faint when Niall Horan himself walks in.

You fumble your way out your chair, walking behind it and putting a hand over your mouth; eyes practically bugged out. Everyone laughs at your reaction, but you’re literally on the verge of a heart attack.

“No fucking way..” you breathe out, and Niall smiles big at you.

“Aren’t you gonna hug me darling?” He asks with that Irish accent you’d obsessed over for years.

You don’t even say anything, it’s like you aren’t in control of your own body and you run to him; jumping into his open arms. Your legs wrap around his waist and he holds you up.

“What a greeting!” Niall Jokes. “How’re you?” He asks and you can barely answer.

“I’m perfect now” you fawn and you definitely hear one of the videographers whisper- ‘this is totally going viral’

Niall sets you down, and you stare at him. Still unable to believe he was standing in front of you. You then realize how unprofessional you acted and apologize.

“I am so sorry for...pouncing on you like that” you smile sheepishly and you swear his blue eyes literally twinkle. “Don’t be sorry, I love when beautiful girls jump into my arms” he flirts and you think your heart might jump out of your chest.

You try to play it off with a laugh, and so does Tom. He watches this little love connection play out with the girl he’d had feelings for for months and all he could do was laugh.

“Good to know, it’s just I’ve literally had a crush on your since I was like fourteen” you gush, and Niall pushes a strand of hair from your face.

“Yeah well I think I’ve got a bit of a crush on you now...” he replies easily and you’re certain you’re dreaming now.

Toms had enough now, standing to make himself known.

“Niall, mate! How’re ya?” Tom asks stepping between the two of you, and you watch them hug. He knows everyone you think to yourself.

“Aye, Tommy! I’m great man, we have to go golfing soon!” Niall chirps and Tom nods. You roll your eyes as the two of them chit chat.

Two white boys of the month together. The power that they hold

Niall slaps Tom on the arms, something about texting him later before turning to you again. “Y/N, I was hoping that I could bother you for your phone number. Maybe we could get together some time?” He asks, holding out his phone to you.

“That’d be really nice” you hum, punching in your number.

Niall hugs you and says goodbye, and now it’s Toms turn to roll his eyes.

He doesn’t know why he’s so jealous, he’d never even made a move. He guessed he thought he had more time. And then it dawns on him. The two of you were done shooting, and this press tour wasn’t gonna last forever. You’d both go home and that would be that. Sure you’d stay in contact but it wouldn’t be the same as seeing your everyday. He had to move fast.

The interview wraps up and your both say thank you’s to interviewer and crew, walking out to the hallway.

“I cannot believe I met Niall Horan!” You exclaim, and Tom chuckles a little.

“You really gonna go on that date?” He asks, already dreading your answer.

You pause for a moment, “Yeah, if he actually texts me!”

“He’s definitely gonna text you...” Tom trails off and he can already see it playing out in his head. He doesn’t think he can take watching you and Niall galavant through town... or trend on Twitter if you ever did get together.

“He’s literally got a million other girls he could text, what makes you think so?” You nudge him, smiling softly at how your arms brushed against each other when you walked. You and Tom had become so close during the last few months, you felt like you’d known him forever. And knowing Tom you were expecting him to say some sarcastic answer, about he’d text you for premiere tickets just to really see him.

“Because you’re beautiful for one thing. Because you’re smart, and funny and talented. Because you’re kind and loving. I can think of a million reasons why I’d text you...why I’d do so much more than text you” he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck and you’re frozen in shock.

“Tom...”

“You don’t have to say anything back, I’ve gained a best friend in working with you and I don’t want to mess that up. I just wanted you to know”

You grab his hand and pull him into his dressing room.

“What’re you doing?” He asks confusedly.

“I didn’t want to cry in the hallway” you say, finally letting the tears fall.

“Tom I’ve been so anxious about all of this ending because I love being around you. I’ve never had a friend like you and I was so sad thinking about not seeing you all the time” you gush and Tom pulls you into a hug.

“Then we just won’t let each other go” he mumbles, face buried in your neck.

You pull back and wipe your tears, smirking at your friend “Did you tell me all this because you were jealous of Niall?”

“I mean, you literally jumped into his arms...” he teases.

You laugh, biting your lip before jumping up and Tom gets the memo to catch you.

“Now you’re even” you whisper looking down at Tom, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hmm, I could get used to this”

You take a deep breath, staring into his eyes. It wasn’t weird or awkward, it was like the two of you understood each other without speaking. You could feel his thumb rubbing against your back, tracing gentle circles.

“Are we about to kiss right now?”

Tom throws his head back in a laugh, “Only if you want to”

“I really want to”

You press your lips to his, eyes fluttering shut. His lips were soft and they tasted like the cherry chapstick you’d bought him as a gag gift for finishing filming on Cherry. The fact that he’s kept a silly thing like that from you made you weak.

You tilt your head, letting your tongue run against the seam of his lips and he parts them for you. Your tongues touch, mouths moving together effortlessly.

You don’t even realize Tom walking towards the couch in the center of the room until he’s laying you down on it. You pull your lips apart for a moment to catch your breath and Tom is hooking your leg over his side.

You can feel his hardness pressed to your center and you feel dizzy at how fast things escalated. But you loved it, and you wanted more.

You lift your hips to grind against him and Tom groans, shoving your dress up around your waist. You gasp, the cold air on your thighs creating goosebumps and Toms hands run over your skin, the warmth in from his fingertips almost felt like it burned.

He left a trail of fire from your bellybutton to the waist band of your panties, slowing pulling them down.

“I want to taste you” he hums, and your toes curl in your heels at his words. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of Tom like this, and god it was better than you imagined.

He kisses the insides of your thighs, one if his hands pushing you leg back to your chest. He looks up at your, brown hair falling just about his eyes as he takes his first lick up the length of your pussy.

“Oh god Tom...” you moan out, letting your head fall against the cushions.

He absolutely devours you, taking his time to explore every part of your wet heat. Your legs shake next to his head, and Tom puts his mouth over your clit, sucking gently and pushes two fingers into you.

You grab a pillow off the couch, placing it over your face to muffle your screams and Tom doesn’t let up. He curls his fingers upwards, working you closer and closer to the edge and you feel bad when the heel of your shoe digs into his back as you orgasm.

Tom licks you through it, a big smile on his face and all you can do is stare at him. Oh, he was definitely a problem. You glance down at the bulge in his pants, biting your lip.

He catches your stare, “You sure you want to?”

“Tom I’m positive” you assure him, repositioning yourself on the couch to make for a better angle.

Tom is kicking his way out his slacks in seconds, and you laugh at his antics. Your laughing stops when he pulls out his dick though.

“Jeez, Tom, where do hide that thing?” You ask and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re hilarious Y/N” he answers, climbing back on top of you.

Tom rubs himself through your folds and your pussy clenches in anticipation, you brace yourself waiting and ready for him but Tom pauses.

“This isn’t going to be a one time thing is it?” He asks, voice sounding small.

“You think you can eat my pussy like that and then we just go about our lives?” You joke but Tom wants a serious answer.

You tangle your hand in the hair at the back of his neck, “Tom, I want this. Us. Whatever we may become” you say softly, pulling him down for a kiss.

That’s all Tom needed, and he pushes into you. You moan against his lips, back arching. He filled you up perfectly, and when you thrust into you the first time you knew you wouldn’t last long.

“Y/N you feel amazing” he whispers next to your ear and you just hold on onto him, taking all the pleasure he was giving you. Everything just felt so right. The way he felt on top of you, and inside of you.

“Tom please don’t stop, don’t ever fucking stop” you beg and he groans again, lifting so he can look at your face.

“Fuck I won’t baby” he promises, hips moving faster now. He pounds into you, pushing against the way your legs wrapped around your waist. You just wanted him closer and closer.

“Tom...I’m gonna cum” you pant, hand moving town to his shoulder and digging your nails in.

“Cum for me Y/N” he encourages you, pushing all the way in and grinding.

You scream and shake, Toms hand shooting up to cover your mouth as you cum again.

You clench around him as he thrusts a few more times before cumming inside of you. He collapses on top of you, burying his face in your chest.

“So you’re gonna block Niall when he texts you right?”

———————————————-

skfjsksjdn hey guyssss❤️ i literally live for jealous Tom :))) I hope u all enjoy this, drunk part 4 will be up Saturday!!

Photo Creds to @spiderszman 📸

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland blurb #tom holland preference #tom holland fluff #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #peter parker #spiderman #tom holland imagine

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darkestdivinity · 3 years

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FrankNub drabble where Nubbins is a zombie!

My friends and I in a discord chat came up with this idea and I decided to write a little bit for it! More to come, but please enjoy!

Franklin Stitches up Nubbins

When everything went to shit and Hell rose up to greet everyone with a slap on the ass, Franklin was terrified. Beyond terrified. He had barely gotten around without the dead walking the damn earth. The first thing that he had noticed was the smell. Half rotten corpses walking through the south Texas heat made the whole area smell like an elephant’s sweaty backside. The radio stations had so many suggestions; get to high ground, hide, pray. Some even suggested buying weapons, as if every home-grown Texan didn’t already own at least one firearm or good hunting knife.

In Franklin’s case, he had had a van full of young adults and crystals. That was, until they attempted to ‘hide’ at his grandfather’s old home. The new neighbors weren’t quite as welcoming to the group as they had all thought. It was one thing when the dead were coming up to eat your face off. It was a whole other can of worms when it was a family of cannibalistic farmers… and a half zombie that wouldn’t stop trying to follow Franklin.

What happened within the next few days was pretty much a blur of blood, guts, and Franklin losing a good portion of his ‘friends’. Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset. The wheelchair bound man may have had a handful of dead friends, but at least he had been taken in by the Sawyers with loving arms rather than hungry teeth. Franklin was sure they’d only done so because of the effect he had on Nubbins, who was probably the most conscious zombie in all of Texas. The rotten man had barely gotten out of Franklin’s lap the whole first official day of his stay with the Sawyers. The smell was just bearable enough if Franklin breathed through his mouth, but even then it took some getting used to.

What was a little harder to get used to was how careless Nubbins could be with his own body. He was constantly getting into messes and falling apart. The latest injury involved Bubba, a chainsaw, and a dare. Now, Franklin could handle clumsiness, but he wanted to scream when Bubba came in, carrying a laughing Nubbins in one arm, and his right leg in the other. The fool had gone and done it again. Seeing as Drayton was gone and Bubba’s hands were still shaking a bit too much, it was up to Franklin to stitch the giggling man back together.

This proved to be a difficult task. He’d had Bubba set Nubbins down on the dinner table so he could at least try to see what had happened, but Nubbins kept squirming around, cracking jokes, laughing, and doing anything in his power to make this the hardest task on earth. Franklin had only just gotten the fishing line through the needle when Nubbins nearly kicked it right out of his hand while going over the wild story of why his leg was detached in the first place.

“See, Chop said I-I-I couldn’t do it, but I s-sure showed him! Now he’s gotta- g-gotta do my chores all whee-week!” Nubbins burst into laughter again. Franklin was getting pretty annoyed. He had grown a soft spot for the lithe, disgusting man, against his own better judgement. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to tear his head off sometimes (metaphorically, of course, even if he could do it literally).

“Now, just hold still!” Franklin snapped, pushing down Nubbins nubbed leg with his whole weight, the severed limb sitting in his lap. “Just how am I s’posed to get this back on if you won’t stop movin’ around?” His voice came out as almost a whine. He’d had to quiet down some after yelling like he had, especially when he saw the sour, pouting expression on Nubbin’s face. That decaying grin came back after he heard the almost apologetic sound of Franklin’s tone, which filled Franklin with some degree of relief.

At least he’d stopped wiggling as much. This was still Nubbin’s, though, so Franklin had to lean on his lap to hold him down throughout the process. It made it far more difficult than it had to be, since now he just had one hand to both stitch and hold the leg in place. Every wiggle from the zombified man on the table threatened to throw the limb onto the floor, which would cause a different mess of problems. It was almost therapeutic, after the first few stitches, so long as he didn’t think about exactly what he was doing. The needle was sharp enough to slide through one half of Nubbin’s thigh and hook into the meat of the other without a problem. It didn’t take long for Franklin to get a slow, steady rhythm going. In and out, tug, in and out, tug… Before long, he was done. He’d had to catch himself from biting the fishing line off, instead grabbing the small pair of scissors they kept in the tackle box to snip the line. The job was messy to say the least. The stitches were uneven and Nubbin’s leg looked just a bit lopsided, but he would be able to walk on it all the same.

Franklin’s calloused fingers ran along the seam of the laceration. He told himself that it was to check the firmness of the stitches, but it was his morbid fascination with the other man. How could someone already dead heal the way he did? And how did he manage to keep relatively sane after getting bit? And how did-

His thoughts were cut short when he felt two thin hands caressing his curled hair. A little nose resting on his scalp. Franklin froze. It was still a mystery to him just how to react to this kind of affection. He’d hardly gotten this kind of thing from a girl, let alone a man.

“You smell clean.” Nubbins said, moving back with a wide, cracked lip grin before he hopped off the table, testing out his re-stitched leg. The wobble in his walk worried Franklin, but those thoughts were short-lived when once again, he had a lap full of the skinny, stinking man. An arm wrapped around the back of his neck and his face was assaulted with kisses, and maybe the occasional lick. No one said Nubbins exactly knew how to give affection either. That was okay. In death and in life, these two would surely figure it all out in their own twisted way.

#Franklin #Nubbins #Nubbins Sawyer #tcm #tcm fanon #texas chainsaw massacre #zombie au #awkward affection #franknub #slasher fiction #slasher imagines #slasher writing

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rhysreece · 4 years

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Death Is Not A 'Yikes' Thing

3/7

This, Virgil decides, is definitely Not Good. With Roman wittering on about Janus being dead in one ear, and Remus complaining about Logan being missing in the other.

"Virgie we gotta go find him, it's been daaaays and I'm bored! He promised we'd go cut up frogs and his room is all messy and there's blood on the floor and it definitely isn't mine for once and I think someone took him!"

"Virg we gotta hide, Jan is actually dead and I don't know how to deal with a corpse! Actually, Remus, I hate to ask this, but how do you deal with a corpse?"

"Oh! Lemme see, lemme see- oh no, va-janus. Poisoned, huh? That's not a fun way to go at all! I'd prefer blunt trauma or mashing! But anyway, I think nerdy wolverine has some formaldehyde somewhere, so we can fix the decomposition thing that bodies do, and then we bury it!"

"... I don't really wanna bury him yet."

"Okay, Ro-Ro, we'll wait."

So it's a wonder that they're surprised when Virgil's breathing quicken, the overlapping voices grating against his skull like lemon on a wound, and he barely processes the information because his chest is too tight and everything's going wrong and Janus is actually dead and sure he hated him but not that much, and Logan is missing and Logan usually helps with this and he's not here and he might be dead and, and-

A hand on his shoulder sends him shooting up, voice distorted and hissing, looking around wildly for whoever touched him. He really wishes he hasn't. Standing in front of him, covered in blood, five days from Halloween, is Patton.

Roman and Remus are gone, apparently, and Virgil is so used to the sensation that he doesn't pay much mind to his blood running cold, his breath picking up again, as sheer, overwhelming panic overtakes him, hyperventilating in his seat, struggling to breathe, openly crying, his heartbeat threatening to tear his throat apart with how violently it beats, starving his head of oxygen, to the point where his vision swims, and Patton does nothing.

He just watches.

After a few more minutes, Virgil's head clears, and he looks at Patton, shaking and vulnerable. Patton smiles, and puts an arm around his shoulders, leaning in close, and whispering.

"I'm gonna kill you, Virgie. You couldn't do your job, so now I have to get rid of you."

And his fingers close around his throat, cutting off what little air he had, sending Virgil back into that spiral of pure fear. When he looks at Patton's eyes, however, they seem to swirl and move like smoke and fire, darker, yet darker. And he watches, feels his will melt away like hot wax, his fear overcoming him completely, and the world shifts.

He is no longer in the common room, but in a dark hallway, with looming shadows, and the prickling feeling of being watched. So he walks. The hallway is dimly lit by flickering candles burning crimson red, lighting the floor, covered in spider webs and dust and what he hopes is blood. The walls are covered in what was probably once a baby blue wallpaper, with a Victorian style pattern on it, and wood panelling so black that you had to confirm you were not Amish Kapoor to use it. Now, of course, the wallpaper is mouldy and peeling, stained by what Virgil could only hope isn't blood, and the wood marred by claw marks bigger than any beast of the real world. The smell of smoke intoxicates his lungs, almost dragging him forward, through repeating, endless corridors, to a branching tunnel different to the endless halls. Virgil can feel a breeze, and hear water dripping, echoing down the passage. With nothing left to lose, he steps inside.

The passage seals behind him with a slam, and he realises he is trapped, feeling through the tunnel. When he hits the back wall, and realises it was an illusion, he loses hope, trapped in this, this place, with no way out. His back hits the wall as he slides to the floor, sobbing. He can't serve Thomas well like this, stuck in some cave with no way to get out. So he cries, weeks of frustration and fear coming to light.

After a while, Virgil thinks he hears something, far in the distance, like a whisper. He strains his ears, and listens. It's too far to make out, but the calm tone pierces through the fog of anxious thoughts, and it's instruction is clear. Breathe.

Virgil takes a deep, shuddering breath, holds it for a moment, and then breathes out, like Logan taught him. In, hold, out. He repeats the motions, trying to focus on the memories of Logan running him through it, however foggy they may be. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. He feels himself regaining lucidity, in the right headspace to think his way out of the situation.

The curious thing was, with each calming breath, the world around him turned distorted and… Translucent? If he squinted, he could see behind the overlay of the blasted cave, into what looked like a stone cell, with- oh gods.

As the fog lifts and he comes back to himself, Virgil finds two immediate issues with his situation. First, he is locked in a prison cell, probably under Princey's castle, which doesn't bode well for Thomas. Second, across the hall from him, chained to the wall at nearly every joint, is a bloodied, rotting Logan.

"Jesus, Lo, what the fuck happened to you? How are you still alive? And where are we?"

"Patton, I'm not entirely sure, and Roman's dungeon"

"Shit. Patton?"

"I have a hypothesis as to his end goal, but it- what's the phrase I'm looking for. Ah, yes. It is a 'big yikes' and will result in our continued imprisonment and or death."

"Logan! Death comes first! Death is not a 'yikes' thing!"

Logan pauses to hack, coughing up yet more blood, adding to the ever-growing puddle at his feet. From what Virgil can see, what with one eye seeing Logan and the other seeing that cave in what probably looked like a cool heterochromia thing but really just made him dizzy, Logan looks to be near death's door, emaciated and literally falling apart at the seams. It wasn't Halloween just yet, he didn't need to Frankenstein himself back to life.

"We've got to get out of here, Roman and Remus are all alone up there, and you know what Patton does to him, Ree won't survive."

"I'm well aware of the effects of Patton's false medication. However, I am in a bind, and cannot assist you."

"Was that a joke?"

"No, I'm literally bound- goddamnit."

"Puns aside, I hope the twins are okay."

The twins, of course, are not okay. Not by a long shot.

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rickyxginaa · 4 years

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Skate Park

a/n: hello everyone !! it’s currently 3:04 a.m. but i had this idea for a while and i just had to write it out. tbh this was planned to be a one shot but i think maybe it could be a 2-3 part kind of thing??? but if this flops, im going to pretend i never posted it

*****

“He’s not going to come.”

Gina just finished putting her beanie onto her curly hair as she looked over at EJ in the driver’s seat. “What are you talking about?” She knew exactly what he was talking about but chose to play dumb instead. EJ rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the guy who you’ve been not so secretly crushing on for the past couple of months. You know, the one who plays guitar and only wears Vans. Ringing any bells?”

Of course EJ knew about Gina’s love for Ricky, even if she didn’t quite realize it herself. After she moved in with his cousin Ashlyn, the two have become very close friends, which was a surprise to everyone. Ever since he’s learned from his past self that the world doesn’t revolve around him, EJ has become much more observant.

For instance, Seb and Carlos finally met each other’s families and are doing better than ever, Kourtney’s joined choir and preparing to take on Stephanie for class president and lastly, Ricky and Nini’s relationship which seems to be falling apart by the seams.

“I am not here for Ricky, EJ. We rarely ever talk to each other.” Gina’s heart ached knowing that her and Ricky went from talking everyday to a simple head nod while passing each other in the hallways. She knows he’s with Nini now, but did that mean they had to cut each other off entirely? She missed the way he used to sing to her, the inside jokes, the way they just got each other. The teenage girl assumed that whatever they had was completely over, she sometimes worried if they ever had anything to begin with.

“Oh, so you’re not making me take you to the skate park almost every Saturday night to rekindle your friendship with Ricky?” Unfortunately, EJ knew Gina more than she could handle. So naturally, she avoided his question.

“You don’t have to drive me here, I can literally walk from Ashlyn’s.”

“I don’t want you walking alone at night, it’s not safe.”

“EJ, we live in Salt Lake City. The only thing unsafe around here is your singing.” The two started to laugh as EJ gently pushed her.

“Besides, I’m a big girl. I’m pretty sure I can handle myself.”

“Yeah, make sure to remember that the next time you ask me to kill a spider for you.”

“Whatever asshole, I’ll see you in a few hours.” Gina hopped out of the car with her black and purple skateboard, ignoring whatever EJ called out to her as she walked away. Their conversation lingered in her mind as she pulled her helmet out of her bag. She may be better than your average skateboarder but she wasn’t quite fond of cracking her skull open anytime soon.

“Not so secretly crushing on” ... was she that obvious? She’d been putting an immense amount of effort in trying to suppress her feelings for Ricky as soon as she found out he got back together with Nini. Whether that meant skipping out on group hangouts in Big Red’s basement knowing the curly haired boy would be there or sitting with EJ and his senior friends at lunch because she couldn’t stand the sight of Ricky’s arm around Nini at their table.

Gina shook her head. No wonder he started distancing himself from her, she’s been doing the exact same thing to him.

Luckily, she still has the rest of her friends to lean on. She lives with Ashlyn and EJ is pretty much always at the house, so one thing led to another and an automatic power trio they were. After learning Big Red beautifully tap dances, she convinced him to take classes with her at her dance studio. Carlos and her share a passion for theater so it was only inevitable for them to reach BFF status. She even visits Seb’s farm from time to time and if that doesn’t show how much she’s grown then ask the multiple pairs of shoes she’s voluntarily ruined by stepping in mud and dirt.

“Gina?” A familiar voice interrupted her train of thought. She looked up and locked eyes with the boy whose name stayed on her mind day and night.

“H-Hey Ricky. What are you doing here?” He chuckled, making Gina’s heart skip a beat.

“I should be asking you the same thing. I thought I was the skateboarder in this friendship.” Although surprised, Ricky couldn’t be more glad to see the girl in front of him. He can’t even recall the last time they spoke more than two sentences to each other so he hoped that this was the chance for them to catch up.

“Well you were, but then you stopped showing up. So now, l’m king of the skate park.” Gina grinned from ear to ear feeling proud of herself. Her bright smile made the butterflies erupt in his stomach, a feeling he had long forgotten. Him and Nini have been arguing for weeks now and everything between them has changed.

The daily phone calls stopped, every time they do talk it somehow ends up in a disagreement , and even when they kiss or hold hands, it doesn’t compare to the feeling he just experienced. It’s like they don’t fit anymore, the passion has disappeared. Was it his fault? Should he just give up? The whole childhood best friends to lovers fantasy felt like a huge joke to him now. Nonetheless, he knew having these thoughts were wrong considering he was still in fact, dating the girl he’s known since kindergarten.

“Um, yeah. I’ve been busy with school and all the musicals and stuff. I actually only came here tonight because Nini and I just got into a big fight.” He nervously said while rubbing the back of his neck, one of his many habits.

“Oh my gosh, Ricky. I’m so sorry, do you want to talk about it?” Gina took a step towards him, allowing Ricky to catch a whiff of her jasmine-scented perfume. Some things never change, Ricky thought as he reminisced of one particular weekend where Gina dragged him to their local mall to shop for clothes and stock up on any and everything that Bath & Body Works sold that was jasmine-scented. The only downside was that she thought it would be funny to spray perfume on his sweatshirt multiple times. Ricky didn’t mind but he ended up giving her his hoodie since the fragrance was a little bit too strong for his liking. He wondered if she still had it...

“Don’t be, its not your fault. But actually I’d rather not think about it. Kinda need a distraction.”

Gina nodded in understanding and an awkward silence fell among them. The urge to reach out and wrap her arms around him was so intense she had to clasp her hands together for restraint. She knew it wasn’t her place to comfort him, especially after weeks of no communication whatsoever. But that doesn’t make it any less harder for her to ignore the absolute pain in his eyes. If it was a distraction he wanted, then it’s a distraction he’ll get. She picked up her skateboard.

“Then you came to the right place my friend. Come on, let’s go see if you still live up to your reputation. Unless, of course, you’re scared of being shown up the one and only Gina Porter.”

Ricky’s mood began to change, feeling lighter than he did moments before. That’s what Gina did best, she always managed to make him feel better no matter the circumstances.

“Nah, you’re not that scary.”

#ricky x gina #rina #sofia wylie #gina porter #ej caswell #ashlyn x big red #seb x carlos #rina fic #rina fanfiction

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kriscme · 4 years

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One Life To Live

Hi Readers, Here’s the latest chapter of One Life To Live. As always, thanks to Ronja for giving me permission to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take” available on AO3 and Fanfiction. This chapter also incorporates “Lost Boy” a side story of “The Chance You Didn’t Take” from Peeta’s POV. Chapter 26

When I wake, I have a delicious feeling of happiness that is somehow connected with Marcus. My lips curl into a soft smile and I stretch out my limbs like Buttercup when he awakens from a nap. I haven’t slept so well in such a long time. Not since . . . no, don’t go there, even for a second. So, was it the human closeness and the luxury of being enveloped in his warmth that made the difference? Or the strong and steady beat of his heart against my ear where I rested my head? Or the soothing patter of rain against the roof during the night? But if I have to choose one single thing above all else, then I choose the sex. No, not sex. That’s too mundane a word for what happened last night. Love-making is better. Wonderful, magical, transporting. A revelation! My hand drifts down to between my legs almost on its own volition and I lightly stroke the sensitive little bud that Marcus gave so much attention to last night with his fingers and tongue. Oh, his tongue! Teasing, stroking, elevating me to heights I hadn’t thought possible. And then knowing exactly when to satisfy that dull hollow ache inside that if there was any pain, it was instantly overshadowed by waves of such pure pleasure that it seemed to engulf my entire being. Like now . . .oh . . .oh – My focus is broken by the sound of footsteps and the clink of metal against metal from outside the house. Marcus must be preparing breakfast. I try to recreate the moment, half hoping that he’ll walk in and take over, but it’s gone. I might as well get up. I grab the first item of clothing within reach. It’s Marcus’s T-shirt still lying crumbled on the floor where he had dropped it. It smells deliciously like him – fresh and outdoorsy with the faint scent of coconut from the sunscreen he uses. Over that goes my father’s hunting jacket and then I slip my feet into my boots which are in the corner by the doorway.

“Good morning,” he says, looking up from stirring something in a saucepan over the fire. “Awake at last.” He smiles at my appearance. “What’s that? The latest in District 12 fashion?” “Could be,” I say, giving an exaggerated twirl. I go stand behind him and drape myself over his back, using curiosity over what’s in the saucepan as my excuse. “Hmm porridge.” “You sound disappointed. What were you expecting? Sausages and bacon?” “I hoped.” He laughs. “Well, you’ll like this porridge. I added a special ingredient.” “Sex?” I ask hopefully. I take his earlobe in my mouth and gently suck on it. He reaches behind to stroke my calf. “That’s for dessert. Now let me finish, so we can eat.” “Ok, ok,” I say, standing upright. “I can take a hint. There’s something I have to attend to first anyway.” I’m headed in the direction of a copse of trees when I hear Marcus call after me. “Katniss, remember – “ “Yes, I know. At least 200 feet,” I yell back. I won’t tell him I peed in the lake last night. What’s the big deal? Fish do it. The porridge is indeed delicious with a subtle flavor I don’t recognize. “Brandy,” Marcus tells me, as he adds honey to his. “Sounds like something Haymitch would do,” I say. “He wouldn’t approve at all,” he replies with a teasing smile. “The alcohol cooks out.” After breakfast, we head out for the walks Marcus had planned. He wasn’t joking when he said the walking would be easy with lots of time for leisure. We are finished by lunchtime.

While he sits propped against a tree writing up his notes, I go searching for katniss roots. I’ve had a craving for them ever since I thought of it. I wander around the edge of the lake until I find the familiar long-stemmed plants with the arrow-shaped leaves. I can boil them as a side dish to go with our dinner tonight. Marcus is still working when I’m finished. With nothing else to do, I get my book from my pack and go join him. I do a lot more reading these days. I suppose that’s Marcus’s influence. He’s always suggesting this book, or that book, and I’ve discovered I have a real liking for it. Or, at least, for the books Marcus recommends. But today I have trouble concentrating. Not with Marcus just a short distance away and with the memory of last night still fresh in my mind. Using my book as cover, I take the opportunity to surreptitiously observe him as he works. The way the sunlight filtering down through the trees accentuates the golden glints in his brown hair. His long legs, bare from the knee down, with well-defined calf muscles from hiking mountain trails. The little crease he gets between his eyes as he translates ideas into writing. It’s strange how my feelings for him have changed in the space of a single day. It’s hard to say exactly why. Was it that thing again, that hunger that overtook me on the beach? That’s part of it. But there’s more to it than that. Maybe Marcus is what I need to survive now. Or maybe it would have happened anyway. Everything is so confused. But what I am certain of, is that this thing, whatever it is, has come exactly when I needed it. I’m just so lucky to have met him. I wondered if I could feel this way again about anyone after Peeta’s rejection of me. But here he is. The calm after the storm. A soft place to land. The oasis in the desert. He’s a wonder. Truly a miracle. It’s almost like Prim sent him to me. And here, in this special place, while it still belongs to me. I smile to myself as I think of last night and what we did. It was so romantic. The warm soft glow from the fire. The contrast between his fair skin, and my darker olive tones. How his hands roamed the curves and crevices of my body and left not an inch unexplored. How my limbs fell apart when he put his head between them to gaze directly them. I guess I should have been embarrassed by that, but somehow, I found it incredibly arousing. My hand drops to my lap and I lightly run a finger along the crotch seam of my trousers. Back and forth, the tension mounts. But it’s not nearly enough. I need more.

If only he wasn’t so engrossed scribbling in that notebook of his. I know he has work to do and that’s why we’re here, but still. Can’t he see there’s more important things to claim his attention? I look around for ways to distract him and my hand falls on a small rock. I suppose aiming it at his head won’t give me the result I’m looking for. And then my glance lands on the lake. It’s not really swimming weather and I recall how cold the water was last night. But maybe the sun has warmed it by now and it won’t be so bad.

Very quietly, I remove my boots and socks. Then my shirt and trousers and lastly my underwear. And then I casually sashay down to the water’s edge.

“Care to join me for a swim?” I call out to him. “Maybe later,” he replies, not even glancing my way. He raises his head to continue, “I still have – “ He suddenly stops short and down goes his notebook and pen.

“It will be cold,” he warns, but he’s already pulling off his boots. “They must breed them soft in the Capitol,” I scoff. “It’s hardly cold at all. More like a warm bath.” I wade in ankle deep and come to a halt. The water is a little warmer than last night, but not much. When my father taught me to swim here it was always later in the season. My own solo swims have been when the weather was warmer too. Suddenly that swim doesn’t seem such a good idea and I consider backing out. But then Marcus is beside me. “Come on then,” he says, giving me a pat on the behind. “It’s just a warm bath.” And then he races into the water and dives straight in. After a few moments, his head breaks the surface and then he turns around to face me. He’s grinning, challenging me. I grit my teeth and will myself to enter the water. Knees, thighs, hips, waist. I hesitate when it comes time to immerse the rest of me, although I know that once my body becomes used to the cold, it won’t be so bad. Come on, Everdeen, you’ve been in two Games and a war. This is nothing by comparison. And with that thought in mind, I dive beneath the surface, holding my breath until I see two pale human legs. I come up just in front of him, gasping for breath. Which I have to wait for a few seconds longer as my lips are claimed in a kiss. “See,” I say, with chattering teeth, “it’s not cold at all.” “Almost tropical,” he replies. “Want to get out now?” “Yes.” We clamor onto the bank and sink down onto soft grass. We’ve nothing on hand to dry ourselves but the sun is warm against our chilled skin. Marcus rubs his hands up and down my arms. It’s not doing much to warm me up but I like him touching me. “In a few weeks the water should be tolerable. For most people, anyway” he adds, with an infuriating grin.

I go to punch his arm but he grabs my fist and kisses it. And then I’m pulled down onto the ground and we lay on our sides, kissing. Slow, lazy kisses. Too slow and lazy for my liking though. I comb my fingers through his hair and pull his head forward to deepen the kiss and increase the pace but he continues to kiss me in a leisurely fashion; one hand caresses my bottom, fingertips lightly stroking the cleft, but otherwise doing nothing. I know he’s aroused because his erection is hard against my stomach and I press into it. But still nothing. Just kissing and those maddening teasing fingers. I’m getting more than a little frustrated. It’s time to take matters into my own hands then. Literally. I break the kiss and push him onto his back. The part of him that interests me most stands hard and upright in a nest of hair the same golden-brown hue as the hair on his head. I didn’t really pay close attention to it last night, other than how it felt against my body or when it was moving inside me. It’s seems very large even though I’ve nothing to compare it to. It’s the first erect one I’ve seen in my life. And thick too. I wrap my hand around it and lightly tug on it. He seems to like it because he moans softly and when I look at his face, his eyes are hooded. “Tighter,” he says. Ok, then. I don’t see how this could be good but I increase my grip and tug some more. “That’s right,” he says, encouragingly, “keep going.” I do as he says but my wrist starts to tire so I decide to do something different. I put out my tongue and lick the tip. A louder groan this time. Keeping my grip tight, I take more of him into my mouth and swish my tongue around. His hips buck so I keep on doing it. I’m concentrating on the task so much, that when his fingers slide between my lower lips it takes me by surprise. Soon we’re both moaning. “Katniss, now,” he grunts. I climb on top and, with his help, lower myself until he’s all the way inside. It feels so good and at first, I raise and lower my hips in imitation of our love making last night, but I soon realise it doesn’t work so well in this position. “Try grinding your clit against me,” he says. “What’s that?’ I ask, confused. “Here.” He uses his thumb to draw tiny circles at the top of my slit. Oh. Waves of pleasure wash over me and I feel my insides clamp around him. If he’d just keep doing it. “Now you do it.” He takes his hand away and rests it on my hip. “I want to watch.”

“What?” Touch myself? In front of him? “I don’t think – “

“Do it. Please.” The molten look in his eyes is all that’s needed to convince me.

I insert my fingertips close to where our bodies are joined and I gently rub where I’m most sensitive, just beneath – what is it called? – my clit? The sensation builds and I close my eyes. “Look at me,” he commands, his fingers dig into the globes of my behind, snapping me back to attention. His gaze is fixed on mine. I stare back, almost hypnotized by the intensity in those remarkable eyes of his. I’m reminded of a mountain lion, watchful, quietly appraising the best strategy for attack and, for the first time in my life, I’m happy to be the prey. He can do whatever he wants with me. “Lean forward.” I do as he says. “Now rotate your hips, like this.” His hands guide them in circular motion. “Do what feels good.” The forward posture brings my clit into contact with his pubic bone and I grind and gyrate against it. It feels amazing, and when his hands leave my hips to cup my breasts, his thumbs stroking my nipples, it sends me toppling over, in great convulsing waves. He follows me seconds later, his hips jerking up into mine.

He pulls me down for a kiss before I climb off him and lay by his side, his arm around my shoulders. We don’t say anything, just lie in the sun with the sounds of nature around us. A gentle breeze fans our skin.

Beneath half-closed lids, I look down on that part of him that had just been inside me. Not hard and upright anymore, but soft and limp against his lower belly, and sticky from our combined secretions. I can’t help but think how Marcus’s bookish-outdoorsy persona is somehow at odds with his expertise as a lover. He knows his way around a woman’s body, that’s for certain. Even now, when I’d taken control, it was really him, guiding me, teaching me, even. He’s evidently had lots of experience and I feel a little jealous of these women he’s had experience with, although it’s hardly reasonable. He’s quite old. Twenty-seven, he once told me. But it seems I’m always behind and catching up when it comes to romance and this sort of thing. “I suppose people start really young in the Capitol,” I say, as casually as I can. “With sex, I mean.” I feel Marcus’s head turn to scrutinize my face. I lower my chin and concentrate on ruffling the hair on his chest.

“It depends on what you mean by young,” he answers carefully. “We usually don’t wait until marriage, if that’s what you mean. Why do you ask?” “I was just curious. It just seems . . . well, that you know a lot.” “I’m not sure about “a lot”. Anyone with even a little knowledge can seem wise to someone with none. But I guess I’ve had my share of girlfriends. None that lasted for very long though. They always seem to break it off.”

“How come?” I can’t imagine why any girl lucky enough to be with Marcus would want to leave, ever. The shoulder beneath my head raises in a shrug. “They say I don’t pay them enough attention, that I put too much time and focus into other things. The last one told me that what I really need is a female version of myself and good luck finding one. “ His tone is light as if it doesn’t worry him unduly. I think what this former girlfriend was getting at is that he needs someone with the same sense of purpose and who shares his goals. Maybe someone like me. I smile and snuggle in closer. “So, what was it like growing up in the Districts with all those standards?” he asks, doing a pretty good imitation of Lace. I laugh, but then turn serious to consider his question. It’s not as easy to answer as you might think. With my focus on survival and my determination to never have a boyfriend, I had little idea of what my peers were doing, other than flirtations across the school yard, and occasionally coming across a couple furtively kissing behind the shelter sheds.

“I guess it varied and I can only speak for 12,” I say eventually. “But the Head Peacekeeper would pay women to sleep with him. Some of them were very young, barely into their teens. But for them, it was either sell yourself or starve.” I still shudder to think that I might have suffered the same fate if I had been a little older when my father died. I was desperate enough. But it was the woods and the hunting and foraging skills he’d taught me that saved us. And two burnt loaves . . .

For a moment I’m unable to go on. All of a sudden, I’m taken from the safe space I’ve been inhabiting, and plunged straight back into the situation awaiting me at home. Peeta . . . Marcus seems to sense something is amiss because his arm tightens around me and I feel a kiss pressed to the top of my head. “That’s terrible,” he says. “Peacekeepers were supposed to protect the populace, not exploit them.” I nod against this chest, even though without Cray’s custom it would have been far worse for those girls. And then there was Thread. Marcus is still very naïve about how things were in the Districts.

“But generally, most of us waited for marriage. And that was usually as soon as we aged out of the reaping. You really couldn’t risk pregnancy before that, and there was no reliable birth control. Maybe they did other things though, I don’t know.” Gale, very probably. Peeta, I doubt it. “So, I guess if we had standards, it was really about what’s practical. No one, not even if you were Merchant, could afford extra mouths to feed and if you got pregnant, you got married, even if you didn’t want to. It was a powerful deterrent. “

“I can imagine. So, your marriage to Peeta would have been against the social norms?” “Um, yes and no. If we hadn’t already been in the Games and it was before we had aged out of the reapings, yes. But, you see, we didn’t expect that we’d be reaped a second time. It was all a sham anyway, to convince everyone the romance was real and get Snow off our back.” I work hard at keeping my voice neutral. Peeta is the last thing I want to talk about. “And the pregnancy a ruse to gain public sympathy?” I just nod. His chest hair has never been paid so much attention. I know I don’t have to hide my feelings for Peeta around him. But this is about me, and what I want from my life. And it’s not pining over a man I can’t have. I rise up on one elbow and twist my body so that I that I’m leaning over him, and peer into his face. It’s a kind and sensitive face, a little weather-beaten from his love of the outdoors, but handsome by any standard. I remember something Haymitch said a life time ago. “You could do a lot worse.” He was talking about Peeta, that I should give him a chance. Well, Peeta belongs to another now. My destiny no longer lies with him. Maybe I should heed Arthur’s advice for Celia. “Be adaptable. Be open to possibilities.”” And Marcus is a definite possibility. I take his face between my hands and give him a long kiss. His arms wrap around my waist to clasp me to him. “We should get out of the sun, or at least put some clothes on,” I tell him, when the kiss eventually ends. “Can’t risk us getting sunburnt, not when we have another night here to go.” Marcus laughs. “What have I unleashed?” “You’ll find out,” I say, giving him an arch look. And so will I, I guess.

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thevoilinauttheory · 5 years

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Prompt #3: Lost

( Shadowbringers Spoilers Ahead, kinda. Includes shameless male Amaurotine!WoL plug because I like writing about him sometimes. Or daydreaming, most times. )

( For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast‘s FFxivWrite2019 )

This couldn’t be happening. But it was. He could not lie to himself, even if he wished to. Everything was falling apart in front of him. Towers crashed, buildings burned, the screams of his people he had labored so hard to try saving. It was hopeless. It was gone. Everything. Everything was gone. There was nothing he could do now save run, run and hope there wasn’t the same tragedy elsewhere. But even then, deep in his bones, he could feel it… the entire world was burning. The planet was falling apart at the seams and there was nothing he could do. If he had ever felt powerless before, then it was nothing compared to how he felt now.

“I had thought you out of your mind when you mentioned that our buildings were dangerously tall. I did not think I would ever see for myself just *how* dangerous.” While the tone of voice could have been condescending or joking, it seemed he was serious. Philokrates had always made sure the complaint was heard, to build out rather than up. It was too late for it now. “...I do not believe now is the right time for such comments, Lahabrea.” The man let out a heavy sigh, lifting his hands in an exaggerated shrug. He shook his head and watched the commotion beside him. “There is nothing we can do, Azrael. Our plans must go through.” “There has to be a better way. And I have been working on it for days.” “You never cease to amaze, I know, however… now is not the time for theories.” He let out another sigh. “Emet-Selch is down there helping those who remain--” “Only to die from a different source--” “A *better* source. A better cause. To save this planet and those who remain. When will you take your head from the ground and open your eyes, Azrael? There is nothing left. At least we labor to bring those lost back to us.” “And you do not think that I am as well?” Philokrates ran his fingers through his hair as he pushed back his hood. The fall of another building sent a gust that caused the white strands to whip into his face. He hard a hard time tucking them back into his hood when he came to terms about heading to lower ground. He had to find everyone else, if not to make sure they were okay, then to cross them off the list of those that did not make it. It wasn’t likely that any of them have succumbed to the flames or fiends, they were too strong in their powers for that. However, as someone versed in healing, he could not take any chances. If he was going to lose everything, he might as well be lost with it. He wandered the streets, guiding fleeing citizens towards where everyone else was; occasionally stopping to help those that were injured. It wasn’t until a familiar robe was spotted amongst the fire and darkness - white was rather hard to miss among the black. He ran to kneel down beside him. “Elidibus, you need to move with the others, you do not appear well.” “Who are you to tell me as such?” Despite his harsh tone, he let out a sigh of relief with the wash of healing over him. A skill that was never thought to have been needed often, though he would not admit it, he was full glad of it. Philokrates pursed his lips. “If you are not going to leave, then at least help me search for the others.” He stood up, looking around for another path. His head turned upwards as a shadow loomed over them. “...Elidibus..?” His voice turned from peeved to worried. “Can you not go but a minute without--” The turn of his head would have been comical, had it not been for the fact that they were about to be crushed under the weight of an entire building. “Run! Go, go!” Philokrates yanked on his robe, forcing him to his feet to throw him out of the way - just barely dodging the debis, himself. “Next time, do not question me! Now either go or help.” Philokrates was done, having folded his arms over his chest to stare bullets at the man who consistently judged him. Elidibus rolled his head in a mock motion of rolling his eyes. “Everyone aside Igeyorhm, Mitron, and Emet-Selch have been accounted for. I know not where they are, however.” Without much of a word after, he upped and ran for it - likely to join the others. Even without the others, he was the sort to continue through a plan heedless and regardless. Philokrates kept moving, finding that jumping a gap the span of a skyscraper was difficult, if not impossible. Just barely had he grasped onto a piece of metal stretching from the concrete, using what little physical strength he had to climb up the ledge. He scrambled to his feet as he began to run now - there were only three unaccounted for, only three he had to find. Though in this city, he might as well have been searching for a needle in a haystack. In one of the open squares, he had found another of the Convocation. “Mitron - creation, you are alright!” He sprinted to him, sliding down on his knees to heal what he could of the grave injuries he had obtained - most of them burns. A hideous worm lay dead to the side. “Azrael - do not fret over much. Continue ahead. Igeyorhm and Emet-Slech have done so - did you perchance pass by Elidibus and Lohgrif?” “Elidibus, yes. They have headed back in that direction. I can only assume Lohgrif is there as well.” “Good, good.” Mitron stood, panting and catching his breath before running off as well. One down, two more to find. The path was surprisingly barren and devoid of creatures, aside the massive one which had startled Philokrates off of his feet. The laser that he had watched it use to cut through steel and stone without hesitation sent him scrambling backwards, then yelping as he covered his head to prevent anything from landing on him as another building toppled over. How did it even come to this? Why now? Why after all he had gone through? He could barely recall how he had gotten to this position. Once he deemed himself safe, he stood back up to make a run down the path he was on. By Creation, he was tired, his legs burned with stamina he did not have. A massive explosion had him steadying himself on his feet - it was far worse than the others, far more… concerning, to say the least. After the ground beneath him stopped shaking, he continued forward to another empty square. Feathers scattered around the area, blowing away in the winds the fires had caused. In the middle, there was nothing but a crater and a figure unconscious on the edge of it. The robes certainly weren’t Emet-Selch’s, and so it must have been Igeyorhm. He ran to her aide, kneeling beside her to draw her up from the edge of the crater onto flat ground. The blast definitely devastated her being, forcing him to expend even more of his energies to heal her. “Igeyorhm, now is not the time to keep your eyes closed. You must leave, and soon.” “I am… fine.” She was not. Though she never made it known that she had issues, stubborn as she was. “Then keep up the good fight, I must continue on.” He gave her just a little extra of his energy, hoping that would be enough for her to make it to her feet. He left her be as he looked to the portal at the end of the square, closing his eyes as he took the plunge into the unknown.

Only to find the world burning below him.

In the recesses of space, he looked upon his world, his home, to find it quite literally, tearing apart. Above him higher still was the beast that had him startled before. In front, a figure stood before it. Knowing who it was, the last of his physical strength was used to run again - towards him. “Hades! Do not be so daft- get down from there!” He jumped to the higher platform, only grasping onto the edge with his fingertips. To find a spindly grabbing his wrist was a relief. “Philokrates, what in Creation are you doing here?!” “Looking… ha.. Looking for you. Before you get hurt, now come on…” He breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath before he was yanked off to the side away from a massive beam of energy from the creature. The small ledge gave them the perfect view of their dying world.

“It is… it is all lost, isn’t it? Everything… it is…” “Gone.”

#FFxivWrite2019 #prompt 3 #hhhh #i might get these done tomorrow #it's almost 6am #shadowbringers spoilers #shb spoilers #5.0 spoilers #ffxiv spoilers #a prologue

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blindbatalex · 5 years

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prompt response. for anon who requested thunderstorms & marcheron. never let it be said i only kill brad.

~*~

Brad can’t remember the details anymore. For example, Patrice was the kind of guy who always checked weather forecasts and Brad used to have one eye on the sky. He would always look at the clouds and dream and wonder. One of them should have known there was a major thunderstorm brewing long before the first drops of rain hit their faces.

They were on a street -- a residential street, quiet at that time of the day, and it had lush, green trees on either side. Must have been -- spring, if not early summer. They were coming back from a meet-up of sorts. Was it after Brad moved to the same part of town Patrice lived in? Or was it one of the many times before then that he walked in the opposite direction from his own place just so he could spend a little more time with Patrice, pretending he had good reason to go Patrice’s way? Memories blur together after a while like houses on a shoreline that recedes further and further into the distance as you sail away. It hasn’t happened yet but one of these days he will wake up and he won’t remember what color Patrice’s eyes were. That’s how these things go.

Anyway, they are walking back from a meet-up on a residential street with lush, green trees on either side and it’s quiet at that time of the day. Brad stops mid-sentence--he is making a joke about--sheep he wants to say--when a large, fat drop of rain hits him right on the nose.

“What the fuck?” he says eloquently. Patrice stops mid-step and gives him a quizzical, mildly concerned look before a similarly large, fat drop hits him on the cheek and then he gets it.

Neither of them have an umbrella.

“Okay maybe this is not so bad, if we--,” Brad says, and he is going to finish that sentence with hurry but thunder roars before he can and the sky opens up without warning. Rain turns into downpour in the blink of an eye.

Blink of an eye--funny expression that, because that’s how long it took Brad to fall in love with Patrice some time before that day--he marveled at how exquisite Patrice’s eyelashes were as he closed his eyes one day, how much he would like to reach out and touch them ever so gently. By the time Patrice opened his eyes it occurred to Brad that that was not the kind of thing friends thought about their friends. It felt like someone stabbed him in the gut. Patrice who trusted him. That was not the kind of thing teammates thought about their teammates.

“Fuck,” Patrice says, hair already sticking to his forehead with the rain. He yanks Brad hard enough that Brad almost loses his balance but in the next moment he finds himself under an awning at the entrance of an apartment building alongside Patrice.

He slicks back his hair and tries to wipe some water from his face. There really isn’t much space where they are--Patrice is plastered into him and Brad’s right arm is still getting wet where it sticks out.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Patrice laughs. And when he laughed, away from the cameras, when he didn’t carry the responsibility of the world on his shoulders, Patrice used to really laugh. With his whole being. It was Brad’s favorite thing. If there is something after this--if it isn’t all an empty void Brad would like it if he could hear it again--Patrice laughing--but-- The story is getting away from him.

They are stranded under an awning at the entrance of an apartment building as a thunderstorm -- the worst Brad has seen in a while -- rages around them. His heart sings when Patrice laughs, unbidden, as it always does. He laughs too.

“Thanks dude. You literally saved my life right now.”

Patrice gives him a look that says you are so full of shit. Brad loves that look. Loves how fond the smile that plays in the corners of Patrice’s lips is.

“I don’t know if I would go that far. Unless you are made out of sugar and didn’t tell me.”

Brad grins. Patrice’s hair, wet despite his quick thinking, is sticking to his forehead. Brad has an HD view of the drops of water that cling to his cheeks. His lips aren’t particularly full or pink. They never were.

He looks away, past Patrice’s shoulder. It’s raining so hard it’s almost hard to see across the street past the sheets of water.

“You know I am the sweetest thing you ever met,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

And of course he wonders now what would have happened if--if he leaned in just a bit and rested his head on Patrice’s chest. Breathed him in, wrapped his arms around Patrice’s middle. He always felt more grounded when he had Patrice’s touch--fleeting as it always was. A hand on his knee. A hug. The couple of times when he felt he was breaking apart at the seams and Patrice held him as he cried. He could have. What would have happened if he leaned in just a bit and found his lips.

Whether he was wrong.

#marcheron #my fic #hockey rpf #implied/referenced character death

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emoboijk · 6 years

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PJM | A Letter

Saying goodbye is the hardest part. —angst, tw: major character death

1,904 words

p.cred

The ink in your pen is running out, so you gather all your strength and shake it really hard, scribbling a circle roughly into the corner of the page until there are many black lines overlapping one another. You sigh and bring your hand back to turn it into a flower.

Jimin—

You look at the word and feel bad that his name looks so ugly in your handwriting. Your new meds have made you shaky and very weak. You want to write his name in big flowing letters like how girls write in movies.

But you know better than to try again.

Your first question is probably: “When could she possibly have written this?” So I’ll answer that first. Hoseok’s car broke down—remember? You looked really conflicted, but I made you leave. I’m glad. I’ve been thinking of writing something for you for a while now, ever since Dr. Moon told me the prognosis.

Anyway.

These days I’ve been thinking a lot about blood lately. Probably because I spend so much time with it in my mouth. And lungs.

With perfect timing, you cough slightly and you can feel a dribble of blood escaping the corner of your lips. You curse softly and reach for a tissue on the table, wiping your lips and keeping it over your mouth as you cough harshly again.

“Now what do you think you’re doing?” a voice echoes from the hallway.

You glance up and see Dr. Kim—a young intern in the cancer ward—standing with her arms crossed in the doorway. She looks tired today and you wonder if the residents have been giving her a hard time.

You smile sadly at her and open your mouth to say something but then cough instead. Dr. Kim sighs and walks toward you, patting your back as she reaches for the oxygen mask you’ve discarded. She places it over your mouth and nose and watches as you take a couple of breaths, your muscles relaxing from the sudden influx of air.

You reach up and gently move it to the side to say, “I wanted to feel normal for a bit.”

“I know,” she says, “but you have to keep the oxygen mask on, okay?”

You move it back over your face and nod reluctantly. You have to at least stay alive to finish this letter. Your eyes scan what you’ve already written, notice a drop of blood in the margins, and Dr. Kim leaves. She casts a long glance at you as she does, one that you don’t notice, but her eyes are filled with affection and sadness. Even young as she is, she knows you don’t have very long yet.

You trace the blood stain with your thumb. Blood. You close your eyes for a moment, memories coming at you so fast that you fill dizzy. You want to commit them all to paper but you know it’s impossible.

Do you remember that day? You were on the floor in front of me on the couch—we were watching reruns of Naruto, I think. I stayed home from work that day, and you had, too. “For solidarity,” you said, “And for snacks.” I’d been coughing all day, my chest felt tight, my stomach upset. Then I coughed, looked up, and your hair was dotted with dark red droplets of blood.

That was the first time I remember tasting it.

We always joke now that I’m more vampire than human. I think we just like the idea of immortality…

I was really impressed by you.

“You’re always impressed by me.” That’s what I think you’d say if this letter wasn’t goodbye. But anyway, you’d be right. I am quite literally always impressed by you. But this time I’m talking about the fact that you stayed.

I gave you so many outs. That first time at the hospital, and all the times after that. Every time I looked at you and your eyes looked worried or hurt or scared, I’d say, “You can go.” And you finally did snap at me about it, of course.

I’m still at a loss sometimes because I don’t think it ever occurred to you to leave. I said that to Jeongguk one time and he looked at me so seriously, “Why would he leave? He loves you.” Like it was a fact. I guess I still don’t fully understand that either.

A tear hits the paper because your heart is swelling and it hurts to love so much and be dying at the same time.

You’ll tell all of them I love them, right? And when you all feel a little better in a couple of weeks, or six months, or a year, you can tell them that I loved you best. Which will be obvious, because I gave you all of myself, but then you can joke about it and laugh and remember that you weren’t always this sad.

I feel sort of selfish; I want you to be sad for a little while. I want to know you will be so that I’ll know I was an important, significant part of your life….It’s been so long, but I’m still insecure like this.

You laugh at yourself and move the oxygen mask away to cough again.

So maybe three months? Maybe a bit longer? Grieve for me, is all I’m saying. If there are wounds, feel them at first, then let them heal.

I guess I should tell you to find someone else. But I’m still alive and the thought of you with someone else makes me cringe.

I do want you to be happy though. After the sadness and the grief: happiness. Okay? Even if that does mean finding some other girl, or moving far away, or changing everything about yourself…just make happiness your one goal.

You pause to breathe because even with the oxygen mask you feel a bit winded. You reread what you’ve written and wince at those last couple paragraphs. They feel weepy and cliché and heavier than you wanted.

You close your eyes and picture his face, more tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

You know why I couldn’t say any of this aloud, right? Why I waited to tell you all this in a letter?

I wouldn’t have been able to get through it, of course. But also I think you wouldn’t have let me. And besides, I like the words on paper—the way they look, the knowledge that you can return to this, to me, whenever you like.

I’m not sure where to end this. I could talk about you forever.

Dr. Moon comes in with Dr. Kim and some others behind him. You look up at them and smile, “I’m almost done.” He nods, his lips turned down in a sad frown. He picks the chart from off the end of your bed, flipping through it though he knows nothing has changed, it’s still just bad news.

Thank you for loving me.

I love you so much. I always will.

I’m sorry I’m gone, but I’ll always be with you.

You sign your name, trying for big, pretty letters and failing. You sighed, glanced over the words and added:

P.S. All that was so corny, but I meant it. I love you.

Jimin doesn’t find the letter until after the funeral. It was a simple service—white lilies and a dark coffin, lots of friends and families in dark clothing, lots of tears. Jimin’s eyes were red and puffy from trying not to cry. He’d hugged your parents so tightly he could’ve bruised their ribs. Jeongguk had driven him home after, but all seven of them ended up in your—his, he corrects himself, apartment.

Seokjin enters behind the others and wanders into the kitchen with the groceries he’d picked up on the way. Jimin’s not an avid cook at the best of times; Seokjin needs to stock the fridge. He starts a large batch of kimchi fried rice, continually pausing to breathe deeply to keep from bursting at the seams.

Yoongi arrived with Seokjin and Namjoon but immediately turned the corner and walked to the liquor store. Ten minutes later he waltzes through the front door with two large bottles of single malt whiskey. He moves confidently through the apartment, stopping in the living room to place them both on the coffee table in front of Jimin.

“We need a drink.”

The others—Hoseok, Jeongguk, Taehyung, and Namjoon—pile onto the couch and the floor. Tae hugs a pillow and leans into Jeongguk, tears in his eyes. Namjoon sinks into the couch like he’s hoping to disappear, trying to feel without collapsing. Hobi watches his friends, feeling lost. Where do they go from here?

They feel numb. Like you might walk through the door with a couple of pizzas, proud to have tricked them all. Oh, calm down, it’s just a joke! I can’t believe I got you! And then they could finally breathe, in complete disbelief that any joke could be so cruel.

Jimin’s resolve disappeared and he started crying again. But he doesn’t notice. The first day out he’d realized it was too exhausting to keep track of all the tears. Besides, at this point, he’s angry more than anything. His fists are clenched at his sides, his fingernails digging into his palms until they bleed. Anger surges through him like a blaze. He’s too afraid to feel anything else.

“Where are the glasses?” Yoongi says, but not to anyone in particular. And no one answers. But Taehyung unwraps himself from around the pillow—which somehow smells like your perfume and Jimin’s cologne in a way that is both comforting and painful—and sidesteps Jimin, cross-legged on the floor. He walks with Yoongi to the kitchen.

When they come back, Jeongguk has passed out. His eyes are puffy from crying, and he’s leaning heavily against Hoseok’s shoulder with his mouth parted. Instead of trying to squeeze back in, both Taehyung and Yoongi join Jimin on the floor.

“What’s all this stuff?” Yoongi says, pushing things to the side gently to make room as he sets down the cups.

Jimin shrugs and looks nowhere, “It’s all hers.”

That makes everyone pause, a deep sigh passing Taehyung’s lips as he gently puts the glasses down and started organizing the books and papers into piles. The sight of the unfinished novels makes his heart so heavy he thinks it might fall to the floor. And there are little notes in both your and Jimin’s handwriting—grocery lists, reminders, things to do—those, too, do nothing but add weight.

Then a lavender envelope. In one corner: To PARK JIMIN and in the other: From ME In your uneven, scratchy handwriting.

“What’s this?” Taehyung says, holding the envelope up with a curious glance, “Birthday card?”

Jimin furrows his brow. “I’ve never seen that before.”

“Where was it?” Hoseok says. “On the table,” Taehyung shrugs and hands it to Jimin.

His hands shake as he takes it, his fingers sliding gently across the dark ink. A tear hits the front of the envelope and Jimin bites his lip because every moment since you’ve died is a fresh pain.

His fingers slip beneath the fold and open it, sliding out a folded paper covered in your familiar scrawl. “Oh my god,” he whispers, his voice like a last breath.

author’s note—i feel like i have a talent for writing depressing stuff :)

for more of my works check out my m.list

#rosynamjoon #bangtanbuds #bts #bts angst #bts x reader #park jimin #jimin #jimin x reader #jimin angst

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a-splash-of-stucky · 6 years

Text

A Messed Up Place | Thirteen

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky pays a visit to the compound, to have a chat with you.

Warnings: Language. Mentions of: past non-con events and sex. Implied masturbation. I think that’s all, but if you spot something else, do let me know!

Notes: Written for @hellomissmabel’s challenge, using the prompt ‘Lacanian Love’. I know that lots of you have been waiting to see how this chapter plays out, so I hope that it lives up to your expectations!

*A small portion of the dialogue was inspired by ‘One Last Time’ by Ariana Grande.

Important note: Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait until next year for the remaining three parts to this fic. I’ll be going somewhere between Dec 20th-Dec 30th and won’t be able to take me laptop with me. Sorry about that. I hope you all understand that real life comes first, sometimes ❤️

AMUP Masterlist

The compound may as well be deserted.

That’s pretty much the only thought that Bucky allows himself to have as he punches in his entry code at the front door. All other thoughts would thrust him into a state of panic, despair or some combination of the two, and none of those options are ideal, at this moment in time. Right now, he needs to ensure that he is as calm and level-headed as possible. The front door swings open with a quiet hiss. Bucky steps inside, shrugging off his bomber jacket as he glances around the entryway.

“Hey FRIDAY,” he says, taking his cap off his head and ruffling his fingers through his hair, so as to make himself look less like a hobo.

“Welcome back, Sergeant Barnes,” says FRIDAY, “Your presence has been missed.”

Bucky’s lips twitch of their own accord. He’s not sure if AI systems are supposed to be able to express emotions, but that sounded like as much of a sentimental greeting as Bucky’s ever heard. “Thanks, FRIDAY. Hey, listen — d’you know where Y/N is?”

“In her room, sir,” is the swift reply he receives. “I should warn you — Miss Y/L/N has not been very accepting of company, as of late.”

Bucky takes note of the warning but chooses to ignore it, figuring that he can deal with whatever it is you decide to throw at him — in the literal and verbal sense. He strides confidently down the hallway, heading in the direction of your room. “Thank FRI!” he calls over his shoulder, “I’ll bear that in mind.”

The nerves hit him like a derailed train once he’s standing outside your door. His fist is raised, poised to knock. Bucky swallows down his the uneasiness sloshing around inside him, to no avail. He drops his hand, tugging on the hem of his plain black t-shirt listlessly as he chews on his bottom lip.

Though his talk with Sam has helped to clear his mind and geared him up for the confrontation that is about to take place, Bucky can’t stop himself from feeling downright terrified. Your last talk with him had not gone particularly smoothly, so he’s praying to the heavens above that this one doesn’t end in the same manner. Taking a deep breath to steel the butterflies in his stomach, Bucky raps his knuckles on the door, before stepping back to wait and see what happens.

“Who is it?” you call.

“It’s me,” Bucky answers.

A pause, then, “Bucky?” you cry in disbelief.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Bucky confirms. He runs his trembling flesh hand through his hair. “Yeah, it’s me. Um…look, I’m really sorry I ran out on you, but…I’m here, now, so…so can we talk?” He places his hand on the handle and gives it a turn, only to discover that the door is locked. Of course it is. Bucky squints his eyes and studies the lock closely. He figures that he could probably bust the door down if he wanted to, but then…that probably wouldn’t sit too well with you. Wrong first impression, and all.

“Can we talk?” you repeat incredulously, “Bucky, I have waited to two whole months to talk to you!”

Bucky winces at your tone.

“Why is it that you get to decide when we get to talk, huh?” you ask, your voice getting louder. Bucky hears footsteps coming from inside your room and thinks that you must be making your way to the door. “You break off all contact with me, with the team, you leave us no way to get ahold of you — nothing, Bucky! I have been worried sick over you.”

“I know, I know,” Bucky sighs, letting his forehead thump against the cool wood of your door. “Dick move, I know. Look, Y/N, doll, I’m sorry. I really am. I can’t — I dunno how I can make that up to you, but—,” he swallows, “The past is the past. I can’t change that, but I am here now, and—and I want to talk to you, if that’s okay?”

“Sure, we can talk,” you grumble.

“Can you…can you open the door?” Bucky asks hesitantly.

“I said we can talk, Bucky,” you remind him,“I ain’t opening the door.” Your voice is clear enough for Bucky to presume that you must be right on the other side.

“Ohhh….kaaaay?” Bucky says, perplexed.

“I’m gonna sit on this side,” you say, “And you’re gonna sit on the other side, and we’re gonna talk.” The door groans suspiciously, rattling on its hinges. Bucky hears a loud thumping noise coming from your side as you — presumably — collapse in front of the door.

“Is there a reason why you don’t want to do this face to face?” Bucky asks, giving into your strange request because it’s apparent that you won’t be swayed. He settles his back against the door and allows his legs to sprawl out in front of him.

There’s a moment of silence, a loud sigh, then, “Bucky, I look like shit right now.”

“I don’t care, doll,” Bucky says fervently, twisting around to look at the door over his shoulder. “I don’t care what you look like, I just wanna talk. M’pretty sure I’ve seen you looking worse, anyway.”

“No…no, it’s not just that,” you admit, “It’s just…I don’t think I’ll be able to do it if I have to look at you.”

“Gee, am I that ugly?” Bucky jokes, “I showered today. And I shaved too, I swear!”

You snort. “That’s a shame. I like you with some scruff.” After another pause, you sigh heavily,“But…no—no, that’s not what I mean. I just—I think I’d be calmer if…if I just listened, y’know? If I don’t see you, if I can’t see you, and you can’t see me, then we’ll have to listen to each other more, right? And we can’t infer what the other means just from facial expressions and body language and shit, right?”

Bucky tips his head to the side, corners of his mouth pulling into a slight frown as he thinks over your reasoning. In the end, he just sighs and shakes his head in amusement. “You’re a strange woman, Y/N,” he remarks.

“You’re telling me,” you retort dryly.

“So then,” Bucky says, “Talk.”

“What d’you want me to talk about?”

Bucky hesitates, toying with the seam of his jeans as he considers. There are many things that the two of you need to talk about, so many topics that he could pick to start you off with. “Steve,” he says finally, “Let’s talk about Steve.”

“Okay,” you reply. “That’s still…a pretty huge area. Which…what d’you want me to talk about, exactly?”

“Your feelings for him,” Bucky replies. “I mean, I think I kinda know what they are, but…but him or me, Y/N? Who did you love more?”

“Oh, askin’ me the tough questions, straight off the bat, huh?” you chuckle mirthlessly. “Well…here’s the thing. I loved Steve. I still love him, in fact. But—and don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m being honest when I say that my love for him was still nothing compared to what I felt, what I feel for you. If my love for him was a drop of water, my love for you would fill an ocean.”

“So why’d you lead him on?” Bucky asks.

“I never meant to lead him on!” you cry frustratedly, head thumping against the door. “No, hold up, sorry,” you sigh, “Okay, I never wanted to lead him on. Like I told you, I never meant to fall in love with Steve in the first place. I just—I was just…yeah. Initially, I started that relationship with the intent of making you jealous, sue me, I’m a horrible person. But…karma’s already got me back. The more I hung out with Steve, the more I fell in love with him.”

“It was a head over heart kinda thing, Bucky,” you explain tiredly. “It sucked, because my heart wanted you, but I never thought that we could work out. So I…I just…my head told me that Steve was the right one. The he was enough. That I could be happy with him.”

“Why did you think we wouldn’t work out?” Bucky asks curiously, sitting up a little straighter to hear your answer.

“In truth? I don’t know,” you sigh. “Maybe…I dunno. Y’know, I don’t think I believed that we wouldn’t work out, per se. I don’t think that’s the problem. The problem was…I was too scared to find out whether or not we did. Because—the fear of losing you? Completely? Bucky, that idea terrifies me more than anything else.” There’s a raw vulnerability in your voice that forces Bucky to squeeze his eyes shut and breathe deeply through the acute pain in his chest.

He’s not exactly sure how to interpret your words.

Bucky sighs, shifting around to tuck his legs underneath him. “But…but I—how could you? I mean, I know why you got with Steve, I think, but how could you…bring yourself to—to pretend that you liked him? Even if it was only for a little while?”

You’re silent for a moment. “Because I was liar,” you say, your voice thick and croaky, as if you’re fighting to hold back tears. “Because I am a liar, Bucky. That’s why. I’m not…good. Not completely good, at least. I’ve done terrible things to people who didn’t deserve it.”

“Y/N—,”

“M’no angel, Bucky,” you confess, “M’not a goddess, nowhere close. With the amount of sinning I’ve done lately, m’probably closer to hell than I am to heaven. I’m a failure — I get that, I realise that. A few days alone with nothin’ but your own thoughts to keep you company really does help you to come to your senses,” you sigh. “I should’a done you better, I should’a done Steve better. Neither of you deserve a liar and I’m sorry that that’s…who you fell in love with.”

Bucky was aware that coming to talk to you would be tough for him to stomach, but he never expected the conversation to be this difficult. The uninhibited emotion in your voice is ripping him apart, making him question some of the assumptions and grudges he made against you. Your admission is not enough to make him forgive you completely, of course it isn’t. But—it might make the journey to forgiveness a little easier.

“Bucky?” you ask timidly, pulling him out of his reverie. “Can you—can I ask you a question, now?”

“Sure, doll.”

“What d’you think about all that?” you ask, “I mean, you’re Steve’s best friend, so—I know you guys were close. How’re—you takin’ this?”

“It hurts,” Bucky admits. “Yeah, it hurts. I—I don’t appreciate the fact that you did it, and to be honest, I can’t support the reasons as to why you did it — your justification to me seems…flawed, but—but I get you, in some weird way.” He pauses to take a breath, clasping his hands together in his lap. “Yeah, there are multiple dimensions of love, and I can see that you loved me and him in different ways. I think it’s okay for someone to have that. But equally, I think your head was in a confused place.”

“I was disillusioned,” you sigh, shuffling noises coming from the other side of the door as you re-situate yourself against it. “I wanted you to…I dunno, prove yourself to me? No, no, that’s not—that’s not it,” you say hastily, “You have proved yourself to — you know what? You don’t even fucking need to prove yourself to me. I don’t—you’re enough! You’re more than enough, more than perfect, just the way you are, Buck.”

“I did what I did because…fuck, I’m not even sure why, to be honest. I don’t…I don’t know, I legit have no fucking clue why my past self ever thought that anything I did was a good idea. I tried to…I wanted an idealised, completely unrealistic romance, but — and when I didn’t get it, I tried to manufacture one of my own, I guess. And when that didn’t work, I tried to project blame onto you, which was completely uncalled for.”

“I’ll say,” Bucky mutters.

“My expectations of you, of us were too high, too unrealistic,” you continue, voice becoming more animated, words tumbling out of your mouth at full-speed. “I shouldn’t have been expecting all that in the first place. I told you that I never intended to hurt you, or guilt-trip you, but—,” you cut yourself off, going silent for a minute as you mull over your thoughts.

“Sometimes, it’s the thought that counts,” you say quietly, “Other times, it’s the end result that matters. And in this case…I think the second statement holds more truth.”

“You know what?” you cry, voice suddenly spiking in volume, making Bucky’s pulse jump. “I’m not even gonna try justifying myself anymore,” you say sharply. “You’re right, Bucky, my reasons were all fucked up. There’s nothing I can say to fully justify what I’ve done, both to you and to Steve. You’re right. I could’ve come to you first. But…but I didn’t because…well, because I was scared of your rejection, that’s why.”

Bucky is floored. Completely, utterly speechless. That was the best apology he could’ve ever hoped for and more. Still, apologies are only one part of the solution. The wounds you’ve inflicted upon him are still scabbing over, barely healed in most places. Your apology is enough to take away some of the pain, but it’s not everything he needs right now. It’s not some miracle cure. He still needs time to heal.

He takes a shuddery breath, surprised to discover that his heart is thumping erratically in his chest. Bucky licks his dry lips, before opening his mouth to speak.

“I’m…not saying that you’re completely innocent,” he starts, voice slow and hesitant. “I—far from it, actually. I’m not…not absolving you of your crimes, and I’m not sure I’m forgiving you for what you’ve done, either. I’m not even sure if I’m the right person to be asking for forgiveness from,” he admits, laughing bitterly. “But, I accept that you’ve made some mistakes in the past and…I can optimistically hope that you’ve learnt from them.”

You bark out a sharp, surprised laugh. “Thank you, for that. Y’know, the more that I think about it, the more I realise how…stupid I was. I don’t know why I ever thought that dating Steve whilst being in love with you would ever work out in my favour. I was an idiot,” you murmur.

“Hey—,”

“And I think your feelings are justified,” you add, ignoring Bucky’s interruption. “I’m not expecting forgiveness from you anytime soon, if at all, Bucky. But—but thank you for being honest about that. I don’t…I realise that I don’t necessarily deserve your forgiveness, now or ever. I know I don’t deserve it, but—Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

You pause to take a shaky breath. “If you do choose to stay with me, if you choose to try an’ see if we can make things work between us — and I’m not in any way saying that you have to,” you add hastily, “I’m just—if you do, then I swear I’ll make it worth it. I promise to be better. I promise to be…not an angel, but a…less terrible, less bitchy version of myself.”

“B-but I’ll say it again,” you stammer nervously, “You don’t have to be with me if you don’t want to, at all. You know I’d…I would understand if you hate me.” You let out a harsh, self-depreciating chuckle, “I kinda hate myself, to be honest.”

“I don’t…hate you, hate you,” Bucky says quietly, fingers fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt again. “Y’know how there’re multiple dimensions of love? I feel like there should be multiple levels of hate, too. I…I think I have a strong loathing for what you did, but I don’t hate you as a person, inherently.” Bucky shrugs one shoulder, even though you’re not there to see him do it, “Good people do bad things, sometimes. Or, perhaps I should say, good people make bad decisions, every now and then.”

You’re silent for about half a heartbeat. “Um…hello, are you sure that you’re James Buchanan Barnes? Because if so, I’d just like to know if you’ve had a brain transplant or something?” you ask sarcastically. “Bucky — never in my life did I think that you were capable of such wisdom.”

Bucky blinks slowly. “I…am not sure whether that’s a compliment,” he teases, lips pulling into a lopsided smirk.

“Pretend that it is,” you deadpan.

Bucky rolls his eyes, shakes his head in amusement and readjusts his position, bringing his knees up so that he can rest his forearms on them. “Okay,” he says, “I picked out the first topic, so you get to pick out the second.”

“Oh, is this how things are working tonight?” you ask, your voice lighthearted and playful.

“Yep,” Bucky replies, popping the ‘p’.

“KL,” you say decisively, after a brief moment of thought.

Bucky’s heart skips a beat in his chest. “Uhh—shit, can I retract my previous statement?”

“Nu-uh,” you sing-song.

He groans resignedly, letting the back of his head thunk against the door. “Okay then,” he sighs, “What about KL?”

“When we…fucked,” you say slowly, “What—was going through your head? What—were you thinking?”

“Umm,” Bucky mutters, swallowing nervously. He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging a little on the ends as he thinks. “Well. I, uh…I had feelings for you, obviously, but you were engaged to Steve, and Steve’s my best friend, so I wanted to…not do it, both for your sake and for mine,” he says. “But—at the same time,” Bucky pauses, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, “I kinda wanted to do it. I—wanted you, but—not like that. Not…under the circumstances we were under.”

“I didn’t want to do it, but I did it anyway,” he growls, voice tinged with frustration. Just the thought of that night makes him queasy, uneasiness swirling in his gut and leaving a foul taste in the back of his throat. “Every emotion I had was a double-edged sword, y’know? I wanted you, but I didn’t. It felt good, but it didn’t. It was all bittersweet.”

“But even so. Honest-to-god that was…” Bucky says, voice softening, fondness creeping into his tone just as a wistful smile curls on his lips, “The best night of sex I’ve ever had in my life. S’just a shame that it also had to be the worst.”

“Damn,” you mutter, “I wish I remembered it, then.”

Bucky gives a startled laugh. “Yeah. No—I don’t think you do. Y/N, emotionally, I felt terrible, during and a long while after,” he says desperately. “Everything about it was wrong, so wrong. It shouldn’t have ever happened, and I—I’m sorry for what I did to you, and where you’ve ended up, and—,”

“Hey, hey, none of that,” you say soothingly, drawing Bucky back from the edge of a full-blown breakdown. “S’my turn to talk now, okay?”

“Sure,” Bucky replies, voice raspy.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” you say.

“Wait were you not—,”

“No, no, hear me out,” you interrupt. Bucky forces himself to take a deep breath and relax. When he doesn’t speak, you continue. “I’m gonna be honest here. When you told me that we’d had sex, I was—shocked. But y’know what my first thought was? I hated myself. I didn’t hate you, I was angry at myself for putting us into that position.”

“I trust you, Bucky,” you say, “If you told me that you said no, if you told me that you didn’t want it, if you told me that you’d pushed me away to put a stop to things — I am 100% confident that you did all those things. So. Did you take advantage of me when I was drunk? Maybe. But I put you into that setting in the first place. And for that? I’m appalled with myself,” you growl, voice laced with bitter self-hatred.

“Y/N—,”

“Remember that time Tony hosted a party for Steve’s birthday? Last July?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, brow furrowing in confusion at the sudden change of topic.

“I got piss drunk, remember?”

“Oh—right, yeah, you did!” Bucky chuckles, lips twitching at the memory.

“I wasn’t as blackout drunk as in KL, so I remember a few things from that night,” you continue. “One of the things I remember very clearly was you walkin’ me back to my room and me tryna get you in bed with me.”

Bucky remembers this event very well. You’d been tipsy, leaning heavily against him, unsteady in your black stilettos. You’d been wearing a short red dress that enhanced your legs wonderfully — he’d been unable to keep his eyes off them all night. Bucky brought you to your room and sat you on the bed, laughing softly at your drunken attempts to pull him down next to you. But, no matter how ravishing you’d looked, no matter how much his body was screaming at him to take you, he’d resisted the urge.

“And you said no,” you say quietly, drawing Bucky out of his thoughts. “You pulled off my heels, helped me take off my earrings, and then called Nat to help me get changed. I remember that.”

“My point is, I know you wouldn’t have given into me pressuring you without a fight, Bucky,” you say, “I know you’re a good man, no matter what anyone else tells you. It’s like you said — sometimes, good people make bad decisions.”

It takes Bucky a moment to process everything that you’ve just told him. His brain feels like it’s overheating, going into overdrive as it tries to sort through all the things you’re saying to him. “Wow,” he says finally. “I’m —wow, Y/N. That…yeah. Thank you.”

“I forgive you,” you say, “For what you did. S’okay if you don’t forgive me, but I do. Forgive you, that is.”

“Jesus, okay, this is intense,” Bucky mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose in his flesh hand.

Though it may be intense, at least it’s not terrible. In truth, this confrontation is panning out far better than Bucky could have ever thought possible. You’re not yelling at him, you’re not outright blaming him for the shit that’s gone wrong over the past couple of months, you’re even listening to what he has to say. Beyond that, you’re taking some, if not most, of the blame onto your own shoulders, admitting all that you’ve done wrong. It’s…it’s a lot to digest, but at least the discussion thus far has been rather positive. In retrospect, Bucky’s fears seem to be rather unwarranted.

“Alright, what else do we need to talk about?” you ask.

Bucky hums thoughtfully. “It’s…let’s talk about this baby,” he suggests.

“Ah,” you mutter, as if the thought had, up until this point, slipped your mind. “Right. Okay. Baby.”

“You’re what…four months along, now?” he asks hesitantly.

“Mmhmm,” you confirm, “I’m starting to show, y’know?

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his hands into fists, trying to reign in the thoughts running wild in his head. It’s not hard for him to imagine how beautiful you must look, tummy rounded out, yet barely showing beneath the clothes you wear.

Get your head in the game, Barnes, he thinks absentmindedly.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, after clearing his throat to rid his voice of the hoarseness that has crept in.

“Second trimester’s so far been easier than the first,” you remark offhandedly.

“Uh…was that in English?”

You giggle. “Yeah…the…um, it’s been getting easier. I’ve got more of my energy back, these past couple of weeks. My mood swings have been less crazy, my cravings have calmed down a little. It’s been…well, not easy, but then that’s parenthood for you, right?”

Bucky nods in agreement, momentarily forgetting about the fact that you can’t see him. “Sam…came to see me. He—uh, he said that you’d told everyone that it’s Steve’s?”

“I did,” you confirm. “Wait, Sam came to see you?”

“Long story, tell you it some other time,” Bucky mutters. “Why?” he presses, “Why’d you tell everyone that the baby is Steve’s?”

“Well…because it could still be his,” you answer, your voice small and timid.

“But…you said it yourself, you’ve never had unprotected sex with him before!” Bucky cries, throwing both hands in the air. “All the evidence lines up perfectly, Y/N, you can’t deny that.”

You sigh heavily. “Bucky…it’s not that I don’t want this baby to be yours, that’s not it at all,” you explain, “I don’t care whether it’s yours or Steve’s. We can get a paternity test if you’re so desperate to find out, but to me? It makes no difference. I’m gonna love this child as much as I can, all the same.”

“I…okay,” Bucky mutters, brows pulling together in thought. “I’m….well, okay.”

“What?” you prompt, “What’re you thinking?”

“I just—why?” he asks helplessly, “Why d’you wanna have this baby so bad?”

“Because I — want to,” you say, as if it’s as simple as that. To you, perhaps it is. “It’s not that I’m particularly religious, nor am I against abortions, or anything like that, but I just—it feels wrong to not have this baby. My gut’s telling me that this is the right thing for me to do and—and I haven’t been listening to my gut enough in recent weeks.” Your voice hardens, tone becoming more resolute, “It’s telling me this loud and clear. M’not gonna make the same mistake again; I want to have this baby. There’s nothin’ I’ve ever been surer of.”

“Okay,” Bucky murmurs, his body slumping against the door, tension seeping out of his shoulders. He knows that there’s no way to sway you — not that he was ever going to try anyway. Bucky’s just relieved to learn the true intention of your pregnancy; knowing that this is not some elaborate scheme to trap him into a relationship with you gives him a peace of mind.

“Well, uh, I was wondering something,” Bucky says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was um…if you’re gonna be having this kid, then I’d…I’d like to stick around, if that’s okay. To help. We don’t need to be together, like, in a relationship, or anything, but I just…wanna be around to help you.” He pauses, gulping audibly, “Even if it’s not my baby, y’know? Even if it’s Steve’s—I hurt him, I owe him so much—,” Bucky cuts himself off when his voice cracks unexpectedly.

“Bucky—,”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Bucky mutters, scrubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. “I just…it’s not only ‘cause he’s gone, but just…I owe him a lot in general, y’know? In life. He’s my best guy. And,” Bucky pauses, takes a deep, fortifying breath, “And before he died, he told me — he made me promise to keep you safe. To keep an eye on you. So—so this is me keeping that promise, alright?”

“He really said that?” you ask, voice breathless with disbelief.

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky says, lips curling into a sad smile. “He did. And besides—you shouldn’t have to do this whole parenting thing alone.”

“Shouldn’t?” you breathe, “Bucky — it’s not about should or shouldn’t, anymore. I don’t want to…force you into doing anything!”

“You’re not—,”

“No, I don’t want you to feel obligated in any way,” you continue, barreling over his words. “I swear, this—us being together is not my endgame, here. Please don’t do this because you feel like you have to. You can back out now, say you don’t wanna do this and I won’t hold a single bad thought against you.”

“I’m not doing this to guilt-trip you, at all,” you say sincerely, “I’m not doing this for anyone but myself. I know…this baby might have been conceived under dubious circumstances, but whoever the father is — I’m still the mother. This is my child, no doubt about that, right? I want this baby, because I want this baby. That is my one and only motive here — no hidden agenda in my pockets, Buck.”

“And besides,” you huff, the door rattling in its hinges as you lean heavily against it. “I won’t be doing it alone. I’ve got a whole squadron of superheroes to help me out.”

Bucky barks out an incredulous laugh. “You really gonna leave Stark alone with your baby?” he asks.

“…maybe not alone,” you admit sheepishly. “But I’m serious. If you wanna stick around for the shit-show that is gonna be me tryna raise this baby, then by all means, stay. But don’t feel obliged — for my sake, or for Steve’s. I can get by on my own, Buck,” you say softly, firmly.

Bucky huffs. “The thing is, you don’t have to,” he replies. “I’m with you, Y/N. I’m gonna stick with you through all of this.”

“You said you wanna do this for yourself? I wanna do this for myself too,” Bucky says. “Whether or not I’m the father, but especially if I am — I’d like to be involved, if you’d let me.”

“Of course I’ll let you,” you assure him.

“Good—yeah, um…yeah. Just because you’re doing this for yourself, doesn’t mean you have to do it by yourself, y’know? I wanna support you, Y/N,” Bucky says, sincerity evident in his voice. “I wanna be there for you, whatever it is that you choose to do. If you wanna have this baby? Well, then—I’d best start reading those ‘what to expect when you’re expecting’ books, huh?”

“I can give you one. I’ve got a spare,” you mumble shyly. A moment of silence passes. Bucky imagines you gnawing on your bottom lip listlessly, the way you always do when you’ve got something weighing heavy on your mind. “You sure ‘bout this?” you ask, “It ain’t gonna be easy, Bucky.”

“I know,” Bucky replies, “But it’ll be worth it, right?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, voice fond. “Um…Bucky?”

“Your turn to pick a topic?” he guesses.

“No! Wait, actually, yeah — I, um. So. Where does that leave us, then?” you ask, “Are we…what are we, to each other?”

Bucky hums, pursing his lips pensively as he flips the question over in his head. “For now? Friends, I think. That could probably work,” he replies. “Maybe without the benefits,” he adds jokingly.

“Damn,” you mutter, “Seems my dildo and I are gonna get really well acquainted, then.”

“I—what?” Bucky sputters, bolting upright in shock.

You burst out into peals of laughter. “Okay, okay, I’m only joking, Bucky,” you tease, in between fits of giggles. “But no—that’s fine with me. More than fine. I think that’s what we gotta do,” you agree, “Start all over. New page in the book, and all that stuff.”

“But uh…but let’s be clear about something,” Bucky says, leaning back against the door as rakes his fingers through his hair. “I still have feelings for you. I still — love you. Don’t think it’s the same kind of love that it was a few months ago, but something’s still there.”

“Likewise,” you reply, voice soft and tender. “I still love you too, Bucky.”

He swallows nervously, viciously tamping down the overexcited butterflies in his stomach. “So…what? How does this work?”

“We just need to be careful,” you reply, “Communicate. No bottling things up anymore, or hiding things from each other ‘cause we’re tryna make the other person feel better. We gotta be honest. We gotta learn from our past mistakes.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, nodding in agreement. He clears his throat, “Yeah, um. Yeah, I agree. That’s cool.”

“We gotta—if someone steps over a boundary, or something, then the other person’s gotta tell them, y’know? Like, I’m telling you right now, you wanna hold my hand? I’m down for that. But I don’t think I’m ready for you to kiss me,” you admit.

“Okay,” Bucky says, nodding more vigorously now, even though you’re not there to see it. “Yeah, cool. I can get behind that.”

“Get behind what?”

“The—all of it. Boundaries, yes to holding hands, no to kissing,” he clarifies.

“Well…not yet, at least,” you say, chuckling softly, “But that’s good. That’s…yeah, good to know.”

There’s one more thing Bucky needs to mention. He is reluctant to bring it up, though, because the thought alone is enough to tinge his vision green with jealousy, enough to make his heart clench painfully. Even so, he steels himself with a deep breath. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“If you—,” he breaks off, curling the fingers of his flesh hand into a fist, his nails digging in hard enough to leave welts in his palm. “If you—happen to meet someone who you like…as in, really, really like, then…m’not gonna stop you,” he says quietly, “Sure, yeah, it might hurt—I dunno, but…if you wanna date someone else, then feel free. And when the baby comes, when the baby grows up and—,” Bucky stops to swallow nervously, “Well, we don’t gotta be together together, but I’ll be there for you.”

“Oh, Bucky,” you breathe and something in your voice — the sympathy, the tenderness, he’s not sure — makes tears well up in his eyes unexpectedly. “Bucky, is this—are you—is this outta concern for me? Or outta concern for you?”

“Um…you, I think?” Bucky replies, voice low and unsure.

“Then you don’t gotta worry, Buck,” you say reassuringly, “I wanna take things slow with you, ‘cause we did everything backwards. We fucked before we even went on our first date, Bucky. I want this to work, Buck, I really, really do. I mean — yeah, if it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t but…I would like it to. I really do love you.”

“I—okay,” Bucky says, smiling to himself. An invisible weight feels as if it has been lifted off his chest. “That works for me. I want this to work too, doll.”

“Besides, no one’d want me when I look like a whale, anyway,” you mutter dryly.

“You do not look like a whale!” Bucky protests.

“Have you seen me Barnes?” you retort.

“No, I haven’t actually,” Bucky says, breath catching in his throat. “Can you—will you show me?”

“Yeah, okay,” you reply, “Gimme a sec—,”

Bucky scrambles off the floor, turning around just as you unhook the latch and pull the door open. You pop your head through the crack, flashing him a shy grin. Bucky’s heart just about melts on the spot — he’s missed your smile. He’s missed you, period.

“Hey,” he breathes, taking a hesitant step forward.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, opening the door further and beckoning him inside.

Bucky steps into the room and turns to face you as you nudge the door shut with your toe. You’re wearing an oversized flannel over a ratty white t-shirt and baggy grey joggers, topping the outfit off with bright pink fuzzy socks. Your hair looks like it hasn’t been washed for a couple of days, there are darkened circles under your eyes and not a hint of makeup on your face but — you couldn’t look more perfect, in his opinion.

Bucky’s eyes drift downward, to your mid-section. Realising where his gaze is headed, you grab the hem of your shirt and pull it up, out of the way. Your tummy is only just beginning to round out, he notes. If Bucky wasn’t acutely aware of what you looked like naked, he’d barely notice the tiny swell in your lower abdomen. He might even write it off as you making a few too many trips to the junk food cabinet.

As it stands, Bucky is in fact, very much aware of what you look like naked, so his eyes are immediately mesmerised by your little bump.

“D’you wanna touch?” you ask timidly.

“Y-yeah,” Bucky stammers, his flesh hand reaching out towards you. The tips of his fingers trail over the swell of your stomach, his touch feather-light and hesitant. Though Bucky keeps his gaze focused on his hand, he can feel your gaze focused on him, burning a hole into the top of his skull with the intensity of your stare.

“You don’t gotta be afraid,” you murmur, taking a step closer so that you can grab hold of Bucky’s wrist and press his palm flat against your stomach. For good measure, you snatch up Bucky’s metal palm — ignoring his muted sounds of protest — and bring that to your bump as well.

Bucky splays his fingers over your rounded belly, wordlessly marvelling at the miracle growing inside you. Without warning, he feels overcome with a flood of emotions; tears spring up into the corners of his eyes.

“Oh—oh, Bucky,” you whisper, one hand reaching up to caress his cheek, “Hey now, it’s okay.”

“I know,” he mumbles, laughing breathlessly. “S’just…it’s been a lot today, hasn’t it?”

You hum in agreement, taking another step towards him. Bucky slowly slides his hands across your belly, over your sides and to your back. Once you’re close enough, you press your cheek to Bucky’s chest and loop your arms around his torso, crossing your wrists behind his back.

“We’re okay, right?” you ask, your voice muffled against the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs, tucking your head under his chin protectively. “We’re okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

------------------------------- Tags are open, but only via asks or PMs. Tag requests via replies or comments to posts will be ignored.

Due to me being away from my laptop for an extended period of time, do not panic if I don’t respond to your tag request immediately :) I’ll get to them as soon as I can.

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jesbakescookies · 6 years

Text

Too Hot To Handle: Chapter Forty-Eight

So I kinda wrote a different kind of fanfiction. It’s nothing as in depth as my other fics so I am going to post it here. ENJOY!!***Actor, Real Person Fanfiction, Walking Dead RPF***Featuring: Jeffrey Dean Morgan X Original Female Character, Norman Reedus and others.. (FYI this is total fiction, as in I know nothing about JDMs life or that of his real SO and son etc. Because of this, for this work of fiction, they don’t exist. Jeffrey’s been a typical actor playboy dating fellow stars etc. This is written for sick daydreaming pleasure.)

Aria St. James is a busy woman with a thriving restaurant. She thought she had everything she needed until a few famous faces visit her dining room. A tall, dark and handsome actor decides Aria’s just what he’s been looking for.

Rating: Mature : NSFW **dirty dirty**

Find Too Hot To Handle Master Chapter List Here

Jeffrey sat with a few costars from the show, as the interviewer posed a few questions for the group. Leaning towards Norman, he whispered. "We got to see the lil’ shit yesterday." "Oh yeah?" He rasped back, a smirk curling his lip. "Fucking insane." Jeffrey muttered. "I fucking bet. When do you know what it is?" "Not for a while. Probably a couple appointments." "That's awesome." Norman grinned, as the questions were directed towards them.

"Jeffrey, you have the show and many other film projects. Plus all the conventions you hit, how do you balance everything?" The interviewer asked after speaking to the others about their latest projects. "Well, it's definitely hard. I travel a lot between filming locations and home. I probably spend more time on planes and in hotels than in my own bed." "That's got to be hard for the wife. You're still newlyweds right?" Laughing a bit at that, Norman chimed in, "They sure fucking act like it." Elbowing him in the side, Jeffrey rolled his eyes and drawled, "It's definitely difficult with her work schedule and mine but we make it work. Especially now with all the doctor appointments...."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Jeffrey knew he'd fucked up royally. He could literally see the gears turning in the interviewers mind as they figured out what he'd just revealed.

Norman belted out a laugh as Jeffrey's head dropped into his hands. "Are we getting an exclusive reveal?" The interviewer asked, leaning forward on the edge of her seat. "Damnit." Jeffrey muttered directly to the camera."I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm such a jackass." "So you're gonna be a dad? Is that what you mean? Is Negan a daddy?"

His fellow cast members all laughed and congratulated him on the news but he could only think of Aria’s reaction. They weren't going to tell anyone until she was further into the pregnancy. She had a fear that if they announced it, something terrible would happen. They also feared what kind of paparazzi presence would happen with them expecting, Jeffrey didn't want Aria hounded for pictures. All that planning was thrown out the window by Jeffrey loose lips.

"Shit." He growled before nodding and giving them a nervous smile. "Yeah, yeah we are." "Congratulations. That's amazing. How excited are you?" "I'm more than stoked to have a kid. Especially with my amazing and extremely beautiful, forgiving wife." Jeffrey added, trying to butter up the woman who would probably be removing his tongue when she saw him next. They all laughed at his words and contrite expression.

"Sounds like you're feeling guilty.

"He's sucking up. Ari’s going to kick his ass." Norman joked. "More than." Jeffrey muttered before speaking towards the camera again. "Baby, I'm sorry seriously... I'm a jackass. You know I'm terrible at shutting my mouth. Don't kill me." "Don't worry, I'll tell her we forced it out of you." "He's sleeping in the doghouse until the kid graduates college." Norman joked. "Fucker." He muttered under his breath.

Aria sat in her office with her laptop open and paperwork strewn across the desk. She'd been working ongetting everything in order and streamlined for her upcoming maternity leave. It was many months away but she wanted everything to run smoothly without her at the helm. Javier would take over running the original restaurant, while her latest hire at the second location would cover for her. Aria wasn't planning on taking more than a month, at least for the moment, but she needed to know her businesses weren't going to fall apart while away.

When her phone began ringing, her caller-id flashed a picture of Jeffrey grinning like a lunatic. Smiling at the image, Aria answered, "Hello, handsome." "I'm just going to start this conversation with an apology." Jeffrey replied, his voice hoarse and slightly strained. "Oooookay," Aria drawled, her brow furrowed but lips twitching. "I'm listening." "I fucked up and I'm sorry." She couldn't help but feel a ripple of worry at his serious tone and words, the possibilities of what he could've done to warrant such a thing baffling her. "What happened?" "You know how I was at the Con today?" "Yeah..." "Well... I kinda..." he huffed, clearing his throat anxiously. "Jeff, you're freaking me the fuck out. What'd you do?" "I had a interviewer asking about us and asking how I find time to film everything and do cons and still see you... and I mean I didn't mean to say it. It just slipped out and then I couldn't shove the words back in my huge fucking mouth."

"What'd you say?" She asked, her phone beeping in the background as another call came in. Glancing at the id she saw Meagan was calling and then a few text messages flooded her phone from their publicity manager.

"Shit." She muttered, "what'd you say Jeff?" "I said we make it work, that I travel a lot but put the effort in and then I may have slipped up and mentioned how I'll be traveling back home a lot more to make it to all your.. appointments...." "Jesus Christ." She muttered, her head thumping to the desk. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said it.. I just... fucking hell. I'm sorry, sweets. I know it's earlier than we wanted to announce it."

A knock on the office door had Aria peeling her face from the wood to see her restaurant manager peering at her oddly. "Hold on a sec." she muttered into the phone. "What's up?" "Um.. I just thought you should know that there are quite a few paparazzi out front.. if your leaving any time soon, I'd sneak out the back." "Son of bitch." She growled, while rubbing her face. "Thanks, Kelly." "No worries." "Aria." She heard from her phone. "What's going on?" "Well I was just being told there are camera men all over the front of my restaurant." "Shit." "Yeah.. Jeff." She whined, "why?" "It was an accident, doll. It just... fuck. I'm happy about it okay and you know how I fucking am. I was talking to Norm about it and then they asked and then I just... I fucked up. Don't hate me."

"I could never hate you, dummy." She scoffed, rubbing her temple as a headache began to take over. "I might sew your mouth shut though." "Come on, darlin'." He rasped, his tone soft. "How will I make it up to you, if my mouth’s out of commission."

"Oh, and how are you making it up to me?" "Well I figured I'd be on my hands and knees begging for forgiveness." "Mmm." She hummed, at the words and the promise contained in them. "Might be a good start."

"I really am sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to." "I know." She spoke with a sigh. "Good thing I know you're just a big mouth when you're happy." "I am happy." He replied, the grit in his voice causing chills to run up Aria’s spine. "Very fucking happy, sweetpea. Never been happier."

"Me neither, baby." She murmured, her eyes closing shut at the rumbled sound he released at her words. The idea that she could effect him such a way, cinching her chest and twisting her stomach.

"I'm missin' you." He grumbled, "almost more than I can bare." "Soon you'll be home and I'll accept your deepest, most sincere apology." His rich laugh had her smiling widely, her chest loosen of its anxiety. "I can't wait, darlin'."

She tasted like honey, her mouth pliable and welcoming. Jeffrey drank her in like a dope fiend, his fingers curling into her hair and curves desperately. It'd been days since he'd been able to touch and taste his wife, the time away turning him savage.

"Jeff." She gasped as his hands dropped to her thighs to hike her up his body as though she weighed nothing. Carrying her towards their bedroom, Jeffrey sucked a hot path along her neck while kneading her ass with large hands. "Yeah, doll." He muttered into her wet skin. "You like that?" "Yes." "You want me?" "Fuck, yes." She moaned as he climbed onto the bed while she was still wrapped around his body. "Mmmh." He grumbled deeply, his teeth nipping her collarbone and curve of her t-shirt covered tits. "You missed me?"

"Yes, so much." Aria gasped, her fingers curled into his hair as his mouth travelled downwards. Pushing her t-shirt up and over her head, Jeffrey tugged her bra down to lap a greedy circle around her nipple. His hooded gaze did not stray from her dark eyes, his mouth latched onto her breast as his hands worked her pants off. Nothing was close enough or deep enough, his mouth and hands feverishly trying to consume every single morsel.

After stripping her bare, his mouth and tongue travelled down her stomach. He couldn't pass up the accentuated curves now taking shape above his favorite playground. Kissing around her belly button, he dipped his tongue in while watching her flushed face become desperate. Her pretty little mouth dropped open and her fingers curled into the sheets as his thumbs traced the wet seam between her legs. Nuzzling his face into her stomach he couldn't get enough of feeling the changes her body was making to care for his kid.

Peering up at her as he slid down the bed and spread her legs wide open. "I'm going to apologize now." "Oh yeah?" She gasped, her hips undulating off the bed. Aria was squirming under his grip, her body desperate for more. "Oh fucking yeah." He growled before dragging his broad tongue along her wet core. A moan that sounded as though it originated in her toes, ripped from her lungs as she fluttered under his tongue and hands. "Mmmhm." Jeffrey purred, his mouth rutting deeper into her willing pussy. "So needy." "Yes. Please." "So fucking polite." He growled, nipping her inner thighs playfully. "You need more baby girl." "Fuck yes." Aria groaned when his fingers sunk inside. Humming while licking and sucking her lips, Jeffrey allowed his free hand to slid up her stomach to her swelling breast. He watched her carefully as he massaged and twisted her nipple, the man knowing she'd been sensitive as of late. "That okay?" He rasped, while tugging on her nipples. "Yes." She moaned, her body rolling with every thrust of his fingers and flick of his tongue. "Jeff." "Yeah, sweetheart." He growled, burrowing into her folds to lick and suck her deeper. "Gimme what I want." "Fuck... I'm.." "You're close. Come on, beautiful." Jeffrey rasped while panting over her soaked lips. "Cum on my mouth baby." Covering her hood with his hot mouth, Jeffrey sucked a fast rhythm as he rubbed his curled fingers on that spot she loved. The reaction was instant, as her body seemed to cave in on itself, while exploding like a live wire.

Aria’s legs tried to clamp around his head but he pinned them down to keep her spread out and open. She whined at the action, her hips twisting under his grip, while he licked and sucked greedily on her lips and clit.

"Jeff... please." "Please what?" The words sounding rough and breathless. He dipped his head and flicked her hooded sharply. "Please that?" "No." "Mmhm." Jeffrey rumbled into her hot core, his dark eyes looking over the appealing flush spreading up her chest and staining her cheeks. She was so achingly beautiful, Jeffrey could barely stand it. The tug in his chest from just looking at her was almost overwhelming. "Tell me." He murmured, his breath hot and heavy against her swollen lips. "Say it, darlin'." "Please fuck me." "Goddamn." He growled, before placing a hot wet kiss over her clit and climbing up the bed towards her. "You're so fucking gorgeous." "So are you, handsome." She purred, her fingers sliding over his ribs and chest, curling into his chest hair.

"I missed you." He rasped, bumping his nose against hers affectionately. Kissing her softly, while lining himself up with her welcoming heat, Jeffrey kept his eyes affixed to hers. He rolled his hips forward with one instant thrust, parting her lips and sliding inside. Aria’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open as he sunk into her with no retreat. "Oh god." "Yeah, that's what you need, huh sweet girl?" "Yes." She panted, her eyes fluttering as he pulled back, only to plunge that much further. "Je-sus.." Jeffrey growled into the side of her neck, his teeth bared and desperate to bite something. She felt like home and it was as though the tightness he'd been carrying since he left, was gone.

Aria brought her knees up his ribs and curled her limbs around him. Jeffrey began rocking into her, his hips slamming into her spread core. "Yeah." He growled, nipping her jaw as she fluttered around his aching dick. "Cum. I wanna feel it." "Fuck." Aria gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades, as he snapped his hips sharply. "Do it for me, sweets." He drawled, his mouth sucking and licking her jaw and neck. "Cum for daddy."

Every muscle in her soft body became stiff, her arms and legs clutching him desperately. A whine crawled from her arched throat as he continued the thrust straight through her orgasm. He growled and moaned as she spasmed around his dick, the clenching grip becoming too much to bare. "Damn, doll." He groaned, his hips rocking hard and deep. "Gonna cum. Fuck. Look at me." Her deep eyes starred up at him, the beautiful girl with swollen lips and flushed cheeks. "You're so gorgeous." Jeffrey moaned, before cumming in throbbing pulses. He pressed his open mouth to her pulse point and sucked, while rolling his hips lazily. "So good." Aria gasped, her lips and tongue tasting his shoulders and neck. Groaning as she clenched around his still hard dick, he clutched her to his body and murmured, "missed you so much, darlin'." "Me too, handsome." Pressing his forehead against hers, Jeffrey asked, "Do you accept my apology?" Snorting at his question, Aria replied, "it was a good start."

*** I borrowed from JDM real life experience when he spilled the beans about the sex of his new baby. *****

Find Chapter Forty-Nine here:

http://jesbakescookies.tumblr.com/post/170200535401/too-hot-to-handle-chapter-forty-nine

I started posting this fic over on AO3 also. I will probably post in both places since I’m still figuring out AO3 formatting etc.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for updates. I’ll try my best to remember!

@magikat409 @cadeviolet @aforrester77422 @bethcarli @thamberlina @star017 @bec-brained-blarg @blackmother77 @adriannawiggins @jdm-negan-mcnaughty @negans-network @negansmutweek @cltex84 @audreychaz @wolfhart18 @ruggedasfuck @warriorqueen1991 @yellatthetopofyourlungs @hotfornegan @ladyynegan @uhh-dope @brandi-sykestw @negandarylsatisfaction @londoncapsule @morganstopbeinghotkthx @sicksadtired @wolfgirl1074 @sophisti-kate-ed @jdmsgal @sasquaatch68 @spideygeek @arkhamasylumpatient-blog1 @cupcake5365 @ @soft-spokenangel @beegnc @mandilion76 @prettyepiic @beautifuldizasterfics @kitcat44 @mayuketchupytostones @ibelongtonegan @azanoni @alyisdead @mwesterfeld1985 @helena-mrs-murder @lovexxxkittyxxxblog @nu1freakshow @jenn0755 @skylouise12 @mysacredstardust @thatprettymvthafvcka @beltz2016 @soythedemonqueen @disturbthepearls @writteninthestars288 @queenslandlover-93 @ledger-kaos @jackythemoossconcept @jdmsgal @lovesjdm @adixon13 @doyouhaveavacancy

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #jeffrey dean morgan x oc #jdm #jdm x oc #RPF #actor RPF #actor real person fiction #fanfiction #smut #too hot to handle #jesbakescookies #negan #negans thirst squad #negan x oc #negans-network

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rpchive · 6 years

Text

Ninety Third Encounter-- Our Lives as Equals

this log’s a lot shorter compared to the last few

Firefly sits in her room, at her desk by herself; the dishes from her breakfast remaining off to the side of her desk. Most of the food has gone entirely untouched, and her drink never emptied. Letting out a sigh, she leans back in her chair and stares up at the ceiling for a moment. Someone knocks on the other side of her door, although the pattern isn't one that she recognizes. Pushing away from her desk, Firefly goes over and opens her door slightly. "...Something happening?" Daedalus stands on the other side of her door, looking somewhat exhausted and very much unsure of himself. "Nothing's burning, if that's what you mean." Firefly: Well, that's a relief. Eye of the storm, I'm sure, but it's nice while it lasts. Daedalus: Yeah, well, seems to be the pattern at least. Anyway, I, uh... I'm not sure how you're supposed to say this, so I'm just gonna throw some words out here I guess. Thanks for saving me from being skewered like a marshmallow until the end of time by that Oz freak. Firefly: ...I mean, he wouldn't have stopped; he was distracted; I only had one shot...it was the right thing, and the only thing to do; otherwise everybody would've just kept suffering until Collin was dead, and then who knows what that idiot would've done to everything. Daedalus: I'd rather not think about it, frankly. I already dealt with a computer with a god complex, I don't want to start moving on to people with one. Still, I am curious about something. Also, I know I'm still on thin ice here, but is the "cracked door" move really necessary? Visibly embarrassed, Firefly pulls her door open. "...I wasn't thinking about it." Daedalus: It's fine, I get it. I'd just rather not feel like the world's worst girl scout or something. Anyway, how did you get to Oz and I anyway? That city was a complete disaster, and it sounded like everyone else was trapped in their own little bubble or whatever to boot. Firefly: I don't really understand it myself...through the seams of their broken reality; something was...something saw me; nobody else was looking back, but when I looked at that person, I could tell they could see me too, so I tried to reach out to them. The seams got less chaotic, less random; the reality around me stopped distorting as much; for a moment, I was almost sure they were going to just pull me through, but they didn't. They flung me out of the seams, past everybody else, and told me I was "the only one who could stop this," so I did. Daedalus gives Firefly a look that is much similar to one he would give to someone who just grew two extra heads, and slowly nods once. "... Uh-huh." Firefly: ...Look, you asked for an answer, and I was honest; if you don't believe me, you said what you needed to. Daedalus: No no, I believe you, I just... didn't expect /that/ as an answer. Some mystery figure throwing you through all of that nonsense right to where you needed to be... Who the hell could do something like that? Firefly: I have no idea. Everyone else I saw just looked like a different version of myself... Daedalus: Impressive. The more detail you give, the more confused I get.

in those infinite realities, Firefly met one of the versions of herself that became a full god, and that’s who helped her stop Oz

Firefly: Believe me, I've spent every waking moment since we got back trying to figure out why that could've happened... Daedalus: Well, I suppose I should leave you to it. You seem like the type that's used to figuring out weird stuff like this. Firefly: It's about the only thing I can really do right now besides going back to my plants and waiting for the next disaster. Daedalus: Yeesh, keep up the sunshine and rainbows.

He glances past her for a moment and seems to notice something before looking back at her. "And uh, I might not know much about bugs, but I think you might need to eat a little more than just that." Firefly: ...Listen, this is a little much for me to deal with out of nowhere, okay? I'll eat when I'm ready... Daedalus: If you say so. Just be careful or we'll have to start sending Fawkes to babysit you. Firefly: Ugh, don't even joke about that. Daedalus grins and starts walking back to his room, musing loudly to himself as he goes. "Might need to start a meal schedule, and- ooh, maybe even a baby monitor in case something goes wrong. I should get a notepad..." Rolling her eyes, Firefly closes the door behind him. In Collin and Jay's room, Jay's shards have barely begun to conjoin naturally, only a few of them have reformed into larger chunks that remain apart from the rest of their whole. Zenith is still sleeping in a beanbag chair across the room. Collin has started a quiet game of shaping a small rock in his hands into various shapes and designs using his magic while he sits on the bed, lost in thought. Every once in a while he glances over at Jay's shards to see how they're doing before returning to his hands. Jays shards remain unchanging, retaining their semi-chunky state. Collin sighs and sets the rock, currently twisted in a spiral shape, down on the bedside table. He quietly gets up off the bed and makes his way out of the room before heading down the hall toward the kitchen. Silky and Karumet are there, though Silky currently has a stack of pancakes several feet tall in front of her. Karumet, on the other hand, only has a cup of coffee and an empty plate. Collin: Mornin'. Breakfast still open, I take it? Karumet: The ship makes whatever you want whenever; but Silky's made it her personal mission to eat as much of anything she can get her hands on suddenly.

Through a mouthful of pancakes, Silky sobs out a response: "'Ou would doo 'f 'ou shaw whad I did!"

Collin: Uh... do you need to talk about it? I don't want you to choke on something over it. Drinking syrup out of the bottle, Silky slams it on the table. "What's there to talk about?! All that stuff was out of our reach anyway; who even cares?!"

that sounds like it would just straight up feel bad

Karumet: Apparently you do.

Silky: What the hell would you even know about family?! You don't even have one!

Karumet: Maybe not, but at least I'm not eating my feelings.

Silky: Who cares about that?! I'm never gonna be on another stage; this figure is a waste! My career is in shambles; my family name was ruined; my life is over!!

Silky goes back to sobbing into her pancakes. Collin: Okay, okay, let's take a step back here you two.

Collin pulls up a chair to the table and sits between them. "I'll admit, I don't really know what was going on for the most part during all of that, but... are you sure everything you saw was a real thing? I mean, from what I've heard it sounds like Oz made a literal nightmare realm for everyone. Maybe he just played into everyone's fears to get the biggest reaction." Karumet: There were legitimately infinite branches of possibilities laid out around us; each one containing at least one difference from the last. We all saw things that could've been; things we couldn't have; things that can be; things that might still be possible...but it was almost impossible to distinguish the differences between those subtler realities. Absolutely none of them were within our reach; it was impossible for us to see more than the glimpses, and yet, even just those small windows seem to have made big impacts.

Silky: It wasn't even just one or two; there were hundreds of realities like that! Absolutely thousands of realities where Atlas never ruined anything; where my dad was alive; where everything was just fine; it's not fair!

Karumet: And? What good does it do being upset over what you could've had or done differently when those things aren't changed so practically now? Collin: I... I get it, I think. It sucks to have all of the "what-if" scenarios thrown out in front of you like that, but think about it for a second. Will giving up on what you have now bring about anything you saw? Is getting lost in a whirlwind of nightmares and daydreams the best way forward? Yes, you've lost a lot already, but will giving up on even more actually help you? Silky stares quietly at her pancakes for a minute and sighs as she sets her fork down.

"...Maybe not, but it's...hard not to get upset seeing stuff like that. It's something I don't want to talk about." Collin: I'm not saying it's wrong to be upset about it, I just... hate seeing you take it out on yourself like that. Silky: ...I guess I understand. I just...XL was having the same problem; her dad and sister were still alive like that, and even if she couldn't be with them, she didn't want to stop seeing them; she didn't want to stop falling. Now that it's all over, she's kind of left wondering why she's still...doing this. The war's over; and we won; but...

Karumet: ...But there's still more to fight; still people losing more than you have; still people that need help. That's why you're still doing this...

Silky: ...Yeah. Collin seems to stare through the table for a moment before he speaks, although his volume almost sounds as though he were trying to talk to himself. "I always get such a weird feeling when I hear you guys talk about your families, honestly." Karumet: ...It's probably because they're the only ones with families to talk about.

since s1 Jay was dressed in all black does that mean that everybody else on the IT is technically a Robin

Silky: ...That's kind of why we try not to bring it up in front of everybody... Collin: Well, no, it's not like jealousy or anything like that. In fact, I always feel bad about what you guys lost more than anything else. I guess it's more that I just... have trouble trying to relate, I think. I mean, I technically had parents, but one turned me into a science experiment and the other trapped me in a maze of tests for a couple of years, and I don't even really know them for anything other than that. In a way, I both did and didn't have a biological family, and I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about it. The only family I really know is here, with you guys. Silky: ...I...guess I understand. I don't think any of us ever really stop feeling mad about what happened to you, either. Or, well, not always mad as much as upset that they were just kinda...always like that for you? But that just means we'll have to be the better family, huh?

Karumet: Yeah, well, great job, you almost got him killed by a ghost yesterday.

Silky: Th-that wasn't my fault! Collin: Hey, at least Silky never put me on a narrow walkway with turrets on either side and tiny, spaced out walls to hide behind. Once she does /that/, I might get upset. Karumet: Your family was clearly a bunch of lunatics. Probably for the best you barely knew either of them. Collin: I don't know if she was always that way. Like I said, I don't really remember much before waking up in the testing track. Regardless, I'm just glad to be done with the place. Karumet: ...Speaking of morally curious women, where'd your demon girlfriend slink off to? I haven't seen her since yesterday... Collin: Okay, she's not my girlfriend. But to answer your question, I'm actually not sure. She was hiding in Zenith's shadow yesterday, but I haven't really heard from her since then. Karumet: Well, whatever she is, I'm sure she's doing something else ridiculous somewhere. You should probably try to find her; she looked like she actually listened to you. Collin: Sorta, I guess? I'm not sure why, honestly. Anyway, I'll go take a look around. Talk to you guys later.

With that, Collin pushes himself away from the table and leaves the kitchen. He starts making his way through the IT, checking the music rooms and the other shared spaces to try and find her. Azreldeh does not seem to be in any open areas that Collin goes through, however, Zenith does wind up running into Collin on his way back.

Zenith: I-!! When I woke up, Jay was...Jay's back! Collin: Wait, what?

Rather than waiting for a response, he quickly ducks past him and darts down the hall for their room. Azreldeh is idly floating in the room beside Jay, who's currently balled up on the bed holding where his injured arm should be.

Azreldeh: ...Yeah, no, that's definitely not normal; I should probably go get your bug friend... Collin: What's wrong? What's not normal? Azreldeh: Oh, when did you get here? Uhh, his arm's totally black and hard, apparently. That doesn't happen normally, does it? Collin: N-No, not at all. Should I go get Firefly, or...? Azreldeh: Uhh, I guess? Unless that really mean kleivenn chick knows about this. Collin: I don't know, I never know when this is kleivenn stuff or something else. Look, I'll... I'll be right back.

He hurries back out of the room and down to Firefly's door, which he hurriedly knocks on. Firefly answers her door yet again. "Look, if you're here to make more baby jokes or something-- oh, Collin."

Collin: Huh? Baby j- Uh, n-nevermind, look, Jay came back but his arm's all wrong. Can you see if you can help? Firefly: ...His arm? That's weird...uhh, sure; I'll be there in a sec; just let me look for something first. In the meantime, you should probably see if it's hurting him or something; I'd like to know if we're dealing with a curse or another ghost before I start dragging more weird artifacts out of drawers. Collin: Right, sorry...

He hurries back to their room and stops next to Jay, hesitant to touch him. "You, uh... Your arm, is it hurting? alienrabitt: N-no, I just...I can't move it or anything while it's like this. I don't know what's wrong; this hasn't happened before...ugh, but...I really don't care about this. Collin: ... Huh? What do you mean "you don't care"? alienrabitt: ...Collin, do you remember what I told you the wish I made when I became a hermes was about? Collin: Oh, you remember- Uh, yeah, but... What does that have to do with this? I mean, I'm okay, so...? alienrabitt: ...I...guess it doesn't have anything to do with this, but...when Oz decided to pull whatever big stunt of his he messed up, when he tried to kill you...my wish hadn't changed. Even though I was technically part of Demo, what he was doing, it wasn't just pulling you apart...but...I couldn't do anything about it...I couldn't even get through to everybody else...I was just dying by myself in the middle of absolutely nothing. I...I don't care what the hell this is about; I just...

cannocal reminder in case anyone missed that Oz was so stupid he almost killed himself as soon as he became a god

Collin: Oh God Jay, I... I'm so sorry.

He kneels down next to the bed and puts a hand on his shoulder. alienrabitt: ...I'm glad you're okay. Is everyone else? I...don't really know what happened... Collin: Yeah, everyone's still recovering from all of that, but they're okay. Oz got charbroiled, so don't worry about him either. alienrabitt: ...And Demo? Collin: She's alive. I think she might still be recovering in XL's room. She was pretty upset about the whole thing, for obvious reasons. alienrabitt: ...But she's okay? That's such a relief; I figured since she took me in that maybe...but you're okay, so she's probably fine too...

Firefly finally shows up in the room, Zenith following worriedly behind her.

Firefly: So, what's the verdict? Collin: It's not hurting him, at least. Sounds like he can't move it or anything though. Crouching down beside Jay, Firefly pulls on a pair of metallic goggles with tinted lenses that seem to flicker slightly. "Hmm, you're right; more than anything, it just looks like a mess of conflicting sources of magic...Azreldeh, you helped him, didn't you?"

Azreldeh: Y-you could've just looked at my horns to figure that out!

Firefly: Yeah, well, even if you're trying to help, you're still a demon...but your magic isn't even what's causing this; more than anything, it looks like it's because of Zenith and Demo. They're both so unstable that the arm can't stay in any one state; but constantly shifting would leave Jay at a disadvantage; so it tried to compromise; but...this doesn't really help either. Collin: Wait, what? I thought Demo and Zenith weren't connected with him anymore, at least not when it comes to his power or whatever you want to call it. Firefly: They aren't right now; but since he just got done with sharing a body with both of them; and since Oz was straining it pretty hard; and since he was trying to force Demo to make Jay a part of them, Jay must've been trying not to do that, which means taking in all that chaotic mess that Oz was using to make everything so...wrong.

alright, key point for later, limbs/things like this come from taking in absurd amounts of unstable/chaotic magic

Collin: ... Yeah, I guess that'd do it, huh. What should we do about it though? Firefly: Taking this stuff in is really ill-advised; if this is what it's doing to Jay's arm, there's no telling what it'd do to a person like you. Fortunately it doesn't seem to be enough to make a serious impact on Jay; it wasn't even enough to give him a physical form; so for now, all we can really do is watch and make sure it doesn't get worse, which it shouldn't unless somebody feeds into it.

and Firefly even points out that the magic itself has a chance to do something much, much worse. but Jay only took in a small amount...

She glances over to Azreldeh. "...So you better keep your hands to yourself."

Azreldeh: Well, I won't touch him, but you can't tell me not to touch anybody...

Firefly: Y-you know what I mean!! Don't try to flirt with me! Collin: Good grief... I just wish I could do something. Not having an arm is going to suck... Firefly: I'm sure once whatever this is works its way out, Jay will be fine again. Collin: I sure hope so. We've had enough emergencies thanks to Oz already. Zenith: Uhh, Demo really sounded like she wanted to talk to you when you got up, but...if you don't want to-

alienrabitt: No, I do. We probably need to after...all that... Collin: Do you need help getting up? alienrabitt: Believe it or not, no; even before now, my arm couldn't really hold up my own weight, so I'm kind of used to...not using it for that.

Despite this statement, it does seem to take him a little more effort than usual to get upright and off the bed. Collin: Alright, just... let me know if you need help. Let's go see if Demo is still in XL's room. Upon arriving in XL's room, the group finds that Demo has actually left. Collin: Well, at least she can move again. I guess she'll be in her room then? XL: She didn't tell me she was gonna talk to anybody, so I'd call that a safe bet. Collin: Alright, thanks XL. I guess we'll try there then. The group tries Demo's room. Though it takes some time for her to answer the door, she manages to do so, even if she leans against the doorframe the entire time. Visibly tired, she won't meet anyone's eyes, not even Jay's. "...So you woke up."

alienrabitt: Demo, why're you hiding your room again? I already know what's in it...

Demo: It's not exactly a public gallery...but you didn't come here to judge my interior design skills, did you? alienrabitt: ...I-...when Oz made you-...Demo; I know how you really feel about me. I know about everything; I know you didn't mean to hurt everybody like that; I know you didn't want to kill Collin...but...

Demo: ...Yeah, you know about what everybody else does at this point, and I know you're late to the party.

alienrabitt: ...That's...why didn't you tell me about how you felt about me? Not...not Tori, me.

Demo looks past Jay for a minute. "...That. Isn't a conversation for an audience."

She looks back at him. "...Look, just...don't sweat it; especially when you blatantly have bigger problems going on. I'm just glad I didn't mess you up too." Collin: Uh, if you two need to talk some more, we can just leave. It's not a big deal, really. Demo: ...Nah, you can come talk to me when everybody's less...shaken and stirred. I'm pretty patient, trust me. Just...figure out what the hell's up with yourself first; we can get back to me. Collin: Me? I'm fine, it's Jay's arm that's paying the price for Oz's stunt right now. Demo: Believe me, I'm...well aware.

Firefly: Did something happen to you to?

Demo: I'm sorry; did I ask for paparazzi once Jay woke up? No? Just for him? Take a hike, Flick; this is an A B conversation. Collin: Jesus, right back at it aren't you? Demo: Look, there's only so many people I wanna talk to right now, and she's about the last one I wanna see. Collin: Alright, well try this instead: Zenith, Firefly, can you let us talk this out for a little while? Zenith: Uhh...yeah, I can do that...

Firefly: ...I...sure.

Firefly leaves, glancing back at Demo a few times. Zenith, on the other hand, just leaves without any hassle. Demo looks relieved to have both of them out of her presence.

Demo: ...To answer her question; yes, I didn't get out of that without repercussions either.

Stepping aside, Demo allows the pair into her proper room again. After stepping inside, Collin turns back to face Demo. "What happened to you? You look normal, at least." Demo is very careful all the way back to her chair, sitting down about as quickly and unceremoniously as possible. "Yeah, well, hell works in mysterious ways, pal."

Collin: Uh... Is something wrong with your legs, or...? Demo: You are absolutely correct; how observant of you. Can't really blame you for not noticing before; I do kinda wear clothes that actually cover most of me; hell, even Silky didn't notice when she carried me off because she was in her armor; but once she put me down and XL saw...

alienrabitt: Your whole body was like my arm?

Demo: For the most part. I told them not to tell anybody; didn't want to freak anyone out, especially when we didn't know what it was or even why it was happening. By this morning, most of it was totally gone, so I just left without a warning. I'm sure XL's about as steamed as she can get, but whatever.

...while Demo took enough to change 80% of her body

that’s something to keep in mind for later, but I’m saying this more for myself at this point

Collin: Well, at least it got better? Hopefully it'll be the same case for Jay too. Demo: Oh, I'm sure it will be. He'll be fine regardless; it doesn't hurt at all; it's just really annoying. Turns out kleivenn aren't supposed to take in magic so strong it can snap reality over its knee; go figure.

alienrabitt: ...So, you-

Demo: Me, me, me; you're sounding pretty obsessed finally, huh? I'll cut to the chase; I wasn't really sure back then. I couldn't tell you apart; and that ruined everything about my perception; even when I came back, I only ever thought of you as this one thing, when you were something totally different the whole time. I was so obsessed with the frame, I never even bothered to look at the damn painting. But you? You're the real big picture. 'Course, now that I'm seeing you like that, I've got no damn idea what that means for me, or even if I care about that. That whole other half thing...I don't want you to be a part of me. You are my other half, yeah, but we work better like this.

alienrabitt: That's...I'm uhh, not sure how to take all that? This is seriously what was eating you up while I was gone?

Demo: Wh-- of course not; I thought you were dead! I shattered you and took you in; all you and your boyfriend's stupid magic paralyzed me from the neck down for a day straight; do you think during that whole time all I was thinking about was "golly, I sure am one lucky gal to be besties with my brother?!"

alienrabitt: W-well, I'm not dead, so...! Don't worry about it!

Demo: God, you really are just one dense motherfucker sometimes... Collin: Jay, it's not just the fact that you almost died, it's the fact that it happened because Demo wasn't seeing you for who you really are. alienrabitt: ...Okay, I...think I get it. Sorry, getting shattered like that is giving me a little bit of a hard time. Azreldeh couldn't totally fix me; she just kinda gave me enough magic to be here.

Demo: ...Ugh, you're making me feel guilty just looking at you. Just...you get the point; please leave. Collin: Alright, we'll get out of your hair. You gonna be alright by yourself? Demo: I'm...getting by. Don't worry about it. Nydins'll probably be in here soon enough anyway... Collin: Fair enough. We'll leave you to it then.

alright, next time we...go back to the Starbound universe, but not really for War Reasons?

#[S4]

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