#I didn’t latch the coop door all the way

[why-bless-your-heart]

Came home to some free-range chickens.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader) 1

A/N: Thank you for everyone's patience after the first chapter, I hope to write more of this; this chapter will explain more and include appearance!

TW: Some mentions of harassment and violence depicted. Slight swearing is used too.

Summary: Born as a witch to a powerful coven, Y/N is destined for greatness. But she finds herself alone, forgotten and hated for being a witch later in life. It's only when she seeks shelter, that she finds herself running into help she least expected.

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Chapter 1

13 Years Later.

1476

The screeching of chickens sounded awfully similar to the sounds of human screams.

Jolting alive as if sparked by lightning, you almost smacked your head on the shelf ever so close above your once sleeping form, thudding to the ground the books and papers, scattering like leaves on the wind.

“Shit.” You groaned, grabbing your head, relieving the awful headache you were experiencing by clutching it. Gods, let this torture be over already. You cursed yourself, unfolding yourself from the tangled sheets of your uncomfortable bed.

Your bones groaned with the need to be stretched, popping in satisfaction as you dressed. The cool morning air brought the hairs on your skin to pebble, so you opted for warmer cotton to guard your skin throughout the day. Having already not had enough time to properly ready yourself for the day, your work clothes were already being thrown on you – much to your dismay.

Tying the apron around you and the head scarf to keep your short curls out your face, you braced yourself just at the front of your closed door, outweighing whether you should just roll back into the comfort of your itchy and narrow bed.

But that would mean no money, and no money meant not being able to pay for food, and no food would mean I would starve quicker than a stray dog and I would never have a way of getting out of this shit village-

Your door rattled jarringly with life on the other side, scaring your wits out as you braced for the austere voice behind it. “Are you decent?”

“Yes, sir.” You braced yourself for the worst.

Stepping back a few paces, the door swung open and it shuddered on its hinges, groaning as the thin walls vibrated terribly. The man in front of you was aged, blotchy skin and pot-bellied. His hair was mousey-brown with a terrible bald spot that he tried hiding with a combover. Bogdan was the standard of men in this village: all leery-eyed with fingers that liked touching, and mouths that liked the sound of their own voice. He was the very same as the rest of his gluttonous family.

Bogdan disregarded you even standing in front of him, eyeing your room scrutinisingly slowly. “It’s messy in here.”

“Yes, I know.” You coolly responded, trying your best to hold your tongue. If only I didn’t have someone burst into my room.

“Well, Andrei is hungry, he needs his breakfast.” Bogdan chortled, and it reminded you all the same as how the little piglets on the farm would squeal if they were picked up. “He wants four eggs this time.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you kept your head low. “I’ll be sure to check the coop for more.”

“Be quick then, girl,” Bogdan stepped to the side to allow you to pass, and you made sure to walk a bit faster to avoid his hands reaching for the back of you. You knew if you weren’t quick enough, and you learnt the hard way the first time he did it.

“Yes, sir.” You skipped a step to leave your room, keeping a safe distance between him as you walked quickly through the back of the kitchen, outside to meet the harsh cold of the air.

The coop was small enough that it held the hens sweetly in their little hut, and you couldn’t help but hold a close bond with them. Call it loneliness, call it madness, but they slowly began your little friends you spoke to each morning, softly to yourself.

“Morning, ladies,” the latch to their door opened, and a cluster of feathers was the first thing you saw before you heard the familiar noises of your girls—the two of them you had, with names you gave them to make you feel close.

Henrietta was your brown-mottled beauty, the largest of the two and sweetest in allowing you to hold her. She reminded you of a cat in telling you when and for how long she wished to be held. Your black mottled hen, Dutchess, was the younger, trilling in greeting when she sensed your presence.

“I know, I know. They haven’t gotten rid of me just yet.” You laughed, gently rummaging through to find the right amount of eggs. “Well, that’s if I get out first.”

Duchess is first to ‘respond’, pecking gently at your hand to guide you to some she was nesting on. “First chance I get, I’m leaving.” You tell yourself aloud, not loud enough to be heard. “I’ll make sure I take you both with me.”

Henrietta lets out a sound similar to a goose’s honk, a squeak some would say, and it brought a smile to your lips all the same as every other day. How you loved them more than you liked to tell yourself, regardless if others found it odd.

You fed them seeds from your palm, gathering the necessary amount of eggs and you stroked Duchess’ chest, thankful she was feeling very gentle. “Gotta go, ladies. But I’ll be sure to see you all tomorrow.”

You made sure they were shielded from the elements, shutting the coop door as you headed quickly inside. Andrei and his mother, Irina – a much younger woman to her aged husband – were sat stoically at the kitchen table, eyes a dull hazel hue, dull and dead inside.

“Morning to you both.” you greeted as politely as you could, stacking the eggs as you gathered a skillet and necessary ingredients of milk, pepper, ginger, saffron (which you had to pay for with your own wages) and cheese.

 Bogdan stalked his way into the kitchen himself, the silence was piercing, and even as you cooked with your back towards the three, you could feel their angry, harsh gaze stabbing into you. Their words were mean, their patience thin regardless of what you did or the size of the mistake, and the scars on your skin as their ‘punishments’ still stung with their reminders on your body.

“Hurry with it, girl.” Bogdan barked, startling you to move faster, nearly splashing hot milk over your hand in a hurry. The meal was as simple as poached eggs topped with cheese and served with bread, but Bogdan’s eyes were cold when he stared at the meal presented to him.

“You call this breakfast?” He held his plate up for your inspection.

You eyed it carefully, nearly laughing at his squashed, pig-like face staring back at you. “Your son always asks for this meal, sir.”

“No, I don’t,” Andrei wheezes, red-faced and whiny, and his face was punchable at that very moment. “She can’t cook what I like.”

“No, I don’t think she fucking can,” Bogdan added. It was only Irina who was the quietest of the three, but her eyes read the most emotion. The way her body was tense, eyes not looking at either of them and staring with such concentration on her plate.

You dared not step away in fright when Bogdan stood and strode towards you, glaring you down.

“Go on bitch, do something.” He goaded, twisting his fat head as if asking for you to strike him first. Your fingers flexed at the image, seeing him down on the ground after years of his punishments, his shouting matches with his son as you could only watch, hear it through the walls when his wife cried out in the nights.

Unclenching your hands, you could only wish you could do so much more for him.

Taking it as a sign of weakness, Bogdan turned to glance at his son momentarily. “One thing to know when you get a wife, son, is never let them have a go at you first.”

The strike was so fierce that your body nearly doubled over from the force. You buckled temporarily, clutching your already bruising cheek, staring in both horror and fury, wishing only the harm you could give him that only he could be treated with.

“Run along, bitch. Before I strike you again.” He threatened, and you had to ignore best the way his son snickered in your misery.

“Very well, sir.” You coolly replied, already listing what ways would get him to squeal like a pig.

-

The nights were short when you fell back into your room after a long day out.

It was a temporary measure after what had happened in Targoviste. Dracula was a temporary distraction from the world ending, yet his army of vampires and night creatures stalked across Wallachia, killing all in sight.

‘All for love,’ some said, yet you didn’t think Dracula could even conjure love after his heart was stone cold for centuries.

You had seen the bodies that came through after nights of their hunts, the way a human body didn’t look like anything after it was shredded from head to toe. It brought you to think of what those creatures were made from, how they were made,

Dracula was gone, but his servants lurked, his creatures too.

You didn’t even bother stripping from your clothes from today, throwing yourself onto your bed with a groan leaving your lips.

There was an odd comfort that came from your small bed, cushioning your weary body. You coiled in a fetal position in the darkness of your own relief, tucked away with the need for peace.

Drifting in and out of sleep, the need to rest was wanting to take over, but your mind was always plagued by nightmares of that day. The screams, the vampire you saw on the other side of the river—your mother’s lifeless body.

Blinking through bleary eyes, you shook the sleep from you, sighing heavily out a large, weighted breath. Holding your hands in front of you, you stared at them carefully. Spells had come with ease to you when you were young, but since the day you lost your coven and home, all was gone including your identity.

A powerful witch, they said I’d be. You could almost laugh despite the pain in your chest. But what is so powerful of me now for allowing some lecherous old man to strike me?

The sisters of your coven told you of your potential and sought it in prosthetic dreams and living visions. They spoke about how you’d be too strong for the world, even stronger than them. But what was now left was a girl who could only bring the smallest of flames to hand.

I can still feel them. You thought, cupping your hands and picturing the way they felt. They were inviting, the hug you needed after a long day, the way they warmed you like your mama did so many years ago.

‘The flames aren’t there to hurt you, Y/N.’ You could hear her voice in your mind, gentle and reassuring.

Yes, they’ve never hurt me. You thought, concentrating on them, feeling them spread from a small spark, growing and growing, imaging their colours blossom like the petals of flowers in spring, until-

“Ardeo.” You called out to the darkness, the darkness answered you eagerly back.

Like the spark of life, it started small, small flickers grew as they caught to your hands, yet they did not burn as you were informed. You smiled, the more they glimmered, the brighter they roared with life. They twirled around your fingertips like dancers, coiling and twisting around your fingers as you watched in glee.

I shan’t be scared any more. You let them die in your palms, the room growing dim with the little light now illuminating. I’m done with hiding. I shall not be something they mock, but rather someone they’ll know.

-

There is a harsh smell of blood that floated through your room, heavy and overpowering.

You retch as you rise, certain that something had made a meal just outside your bedroom window before the realisation hits you of what it could be.

Bolting out of your room, you almost crash into Bogdan as you rush past him, and outside to the coop. Please be okay, please be okay, please-

The coop door is already ajar when you slam it open, the crime is gruesome as you almost gasp at the sight. A heap of bloodied feathers greets you, with no chickens in sight. You find yourself almost weeping, before a cruel voice japes behind you.

“The night creatures took them away because you were too weird. Who talks to animals anyway?” He mocks cruelly. “They were just chickens.” Andrei’s shrill voice breaks something in you, as you glare daggers that make his words die down on his tongue. He doesn’t say much as you look at him in satisfaction, knowing you are not to be reckoned with.

“Fuck you, fat boy.” You move past him, ignoring the way he cries out from not even a harsh shove, but you head back inside to face the man you dreaded since bumping into him this morning.

He eyes you as if he’s thinking of the best possible thing to jape you about before you say first.

“I quit, I leave by the end of today.”

“You’re not serious,” Bogdan looks as if he was the one slapped across the face, red-faced as a tomato as he eyes you with shock. “Do you think someone will be willing to whisk you up just because you think you have a pretty face and decent body? You’re nothing without me keeping you from those beasts outside. You’re nothing without being under my roof.”

“Maybe so,” you respond, fingers clenched as you wish to speak the one word, but the anger rolls off you as you finally say what you wish you could’ve said a long time ago, “But I’m not a fat fucking fuck like you.”

“You little bitch,” he lunges for you, but you’re quicker, your hands reaching for the chubbiness of his forearm. With the strength of your sisters in spirit, the strength to keep living, you spoke the one word with as much fury and venom as you could produce. “Ardeo.”

You felt the heat first, the way it burnt through from your palms into his flesh, igniting as if beginning a fire, catching part of his clothes as he recoiled in startling fright. His screams are just as frantic as you imagined, the smell of burning flesh ignites memories from years ago, but you keep latched onto him, trying to ignore everything surrounding you and him.

It’s uncertain if you let go or he has enough strength to pull his arm out, and the ring around his arm is blotchy and red-raw, blistering and bubbling.

Bogdan was cursing you, howling like a wounded animal as he clutched his arm, but you did not wish to hear him, concentrating on keeping the flames in your palms alive.

“I’ll kill you,” he gritted his teeth, lips bloody from biting through them so harshly, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

You braced for a slap or something worse, body tense as no pain came. All you could hear was the wheezing sound of laboured breathing, a grunt of pain that didn’t come from you.

When your eyes focused on the sight in front of you, you saw that Bogdan’s body was tense, shoulder raised as if he had been struck in the back of the head. His eyes were wide like dinner plates, before he slumped to the kitchen table, something digging into his back.

“Get out whilst you still can,” Irina warned, her body tensed, eyes dead but tears flowed from her face as she pulled the item out from her husband’s back, silver flashing caught the light of the sunlight coming through, blood spurting like a faucet as you could hear him continue to choke.

You dared not look back as you bolted like a hare, hearing the continuous sound of the blade going in and out of the flesh, over and over again.

-

The more you ran, the more you relived being chased, running for your life once again.

Your lungs were aching, legs begging to rest, but you did not turn back in fear you were being followed. You had heard horror stories of sisters from covens being chased and hunted by men of the holy church, with pitchforks and flamed torches. You knew what became of them if proven guilty of crimes they hadn’t committed, but you knew that what you had done -regardless of witchcraft – was still an act of murder.

You didn’t want to imagine what it would feel like to burn, burn with flames you couldn’t control. The flames wouldn’t come from within you, instead, flames are used to ‘cleanse’ your soul clean for heaven.

Don’t turn back, keep running. You told yourself, watching the sky turn from purples and oranges to growing darker and darker. Run before something much worse finds you.

You didn’t know where you were: this was as far past as you had gotten and the woods seemed unfamiliar to you just as they were thirteen years ago when you fled the scene. It felt as if you were good at that: running from your past, running for a future you craved.

The treeline grew narrower as the night began, and before you, you ran through a clearing, a stream gently flowing as you jumped over it, trying to make sure you didn’t fall over your feet.

Trees grew and became deader, and before you could turn to take a look behind you, you gasped at the sight in front of you.

It was hard not to spot it, compared to the trees that seemed to blend with its black tall walls. It was a ghastly, spindly mass, a mass of destruction that caused dread for all to feel upon seeing it.

Dracula’s castle.

No, he was surely dead, wasn’t he?

Your head was spinning, body yearning for rest, throat gasping for air and water, and you garbled, eyes growing hazy. If he was dead, his castle would still be unoccupied, right?

Not wanting to take any chances, two parts of you were uncertain about what to do. Part of you screamed, that primal ‘fight or flight’ mode kicked in once again, and you felt like a little girl all over again, staring at your mother’s corpse. But the other part of you told you it would be shelter needed to keep you safe from anything outside.

Racing up towards the large, intimidating stairs, you chose to ignore the corpses that littered the entrance. You spotted many that resembled the corpses of night creatures, and two that were humanoid, propped on spikes as they blew gently in the breeze.

The doors came into sight, hesitating for a pregnant pause before you braced, pounding on them with three heavy knocks with nothing more than the side of your clenched fist. The sound the door made resonated within you as the sound vibrated throughout the outer entrance.

Nothing came from the inside for a moment or two, and before you could knock again - more desperately, urgently - the doors groaned with life, slowly opening. Not wasting time, you slipped through before they could shut, eyes adjusting to the harsh contrast of dark then light, eyes blurry, stumbling momentarily.

You didn’t have time to call out, before you felt something cold press into the back of your neck, silent as an apparition.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat.” A soothing, soft voice sounded as if he was both behind you and watching from afar.

You wheezed, heart, thundering, the blade pressed closer into your skin and you cried out, trying to plead through your sputtering.

“Please—help me!” You called out, body about to give way as you swayed, blinking in and out of consciousness. Your body screamed to rest, but your mind was alive and burning with the need to explain yourself more.

With a final cry out, your body fell, but before your head could hit the ground, it was not met with the cold, hard flooring, but something holding you as you were settled to the ground gently, eyes giving out as darkness consumed you whole.

-

Latin Translations:

Ardeo – (I) burn

[yanderelionwrites]

Confession (Yandere!Eijiro Kirishima x Fem!Reader)

A drabble about the reader's inner turmoil involving the current situation Kirishima has put her in... Hope you enjoy!

Content Warning: (soft) yandere, implied kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, female reader

Word Count: 873

Kirishima made (Name) feel weird. It should be a bad weird, but it wasn’t, and that terrified her. It was a good weird, the kind that warmed her cheeks and made her heart flutter in her chest. The kind of weird she had feared would develop the longer she stayed here with the red-haired man.

(Name) had fallen for him. And she didn’t know how to feel about it.

She knows that she shouldn’t like him. He had so selfishly taken her for himself. Kept her cooped up in his home, away from any harm and away from any people. She hasn’t left the house in months. And she should hate him for that.

But she didn’t.

Kirishima is the nicest guy she’s ever met, despite what he’s done. He’s been so accommodating, making sure all of her needs are met and giving her whatever she asks for. He’s respectful too, never overstepping her boundaries and always asking for consent before touching her. (Name) can tell he loves her just as much as he says he does and it made her feel conflicted. She had never felt so much love from another person before, and she would find it sweet if it was under different circumstances. Kirishima’s the perfect guy…but he’s still a kidnapper.

(Name) groaned, burying her head in her hands. She never expected she would actually ever share his feelings! You’re not supposed to be in love with your captor! Maybe she’s just grown insane after being here for so long…

This was all so confusing. She’s dreamed of having a regular relationship for so long, but any chance of that happening has been thrown out the window. Maybe…maybe she should just take it for what it is? It wasn’t all bad staying here with Kirishima, and his place was nicer than any home she could ever afford. She had everything she needed here…and she would never have to worry about expenses again. Not to mention the presence of an attractive man who was completely devoted to her.

 Was it really okay for her to accept these feelings? Obviously no, but (Name) was too far gone to realize that.

She decided she should make it official. Let Kirishima know how she really felt about him instead of dancing around the issue any longer.

(Name) waited until it was time for Kirishima to leave for work. While it was still early in the morning, the both of them were wide awake and ready to face the day. (Name) remembers when she used to hate getting up, latching on to the covers whenever Kirishima tried to drag her out of bed. He had successfully turned her into a morning person, but she wasn’t complaining. It was better this way, as now she had more time to spend with Kiri before he went on patrol. She could actually give him a proper goodbye instead of the tired and mumbly one she used to say when she was still in bed.

“Well, I better get going. Don’t wanna be late,” Kirishima stood in the entrance adjusting his headgear before turning to (Name) with a bright smile plastered on his face. Giving her a thumbs up, he said, “I’ll see you real soon, babe. Have a good day! I love you so much!”

(Name) nodded and gave a small smile of her own. She could already feel her face growing warm as she stuttered out an unexpected response.

“You too, Eiji- Eijiro. I…I love you too.”

Kirishima had only opened the door just a crack before whipping back around. A bewildered look replaced his jovial grin, his eyes searching for any hint of dishonesty in her words. She’s never said it back to him until now and he wanted to make sure she meant it. He let go of the handle and stepped closer to (Name), heart fluttering at the sight of her embarrassed expression. She was just too cute for her own good.

“Do…do you really mean it? You love me?” He asked with a hopeful look in his eyes.

(Name) smiled softly and nodded. “Yeah, I mean it, Eijiro.”

Kirishima’s heart soared when she called him by his first name. He couldn’t believe that finally, finally she had confessed and returned his feelings. He never wanted her to stop saying those three words.

Happiness and excitement took over when he rushed to (Name), embracing her in his strong arms. She gasped and laughed when he picked her up and spun her around.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me!” Kirishima cried, giggling with her as he sheepishly put her down. “Sorry, I got a little too excited there.”

“It’s okay,” (Name) said, grinning ear to ear. “I’m glad I put you in a good mood.”

“Oh, I’m more than just in a good mood! I think you’ve just made me the happiest man in the world,” He leaned down to press his forehead against hers then, taking her hands into his. “Do you think…you could say it again? I wanna hear it a thousand times over.”

(Name) chuckled once more, reaching up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you, I love you, I love you. More than anything.”

~~~

Thanks for reading! Have a lovely day ya'll~

[jungle-angel]

A Rancher and His Boy (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Bob and his dad both show Auggie the ropes the same way Joe did for Bob

“Bud, c’mon, we’ve gotta hustle!” Bob called to Auggie. 

The little bespectacled three year old waddle-ran down the porch steps and into the grass, holding onto the wicker handbasket Bob used to collect the eggs from the coop. He followed Bob and Joe as they walked along through the fields, the morning still a little bit chilly as the April weather was beginning to turn warm. The horses grazed in the fields along with some of the cattle, but that didn’t mean that the other farm critters wouldn’t be hanging around. 

“Alright, hopefully that crotchety old bastard’s still asleep,” Joe chuckled. 

A crow from the roof of the coop made Bob groan a little. “If he pecks Auggie, I swear that bird is gonna end up on the dinner table.” 

Joe laughed a little before they finally arrived at the coop, the hens all making their way down the little plank and into the grass where they could peck away for bugs if they wished. Bob took a handful of chicken feed from the sack near the door, almost all of them flocking straight to it and pecking furiously at the ground. 

“Smokey!” Auggie cried happily as the big rooster practically flew from the roof of the coop, flapping his wings and following Auggie like an obedient dog. 

Bob gave his father a quizzical look. “How?” he asked. 

“Don’t ask,” Joe told him. “Animals can be weird sometimes.” 

Bob undid the hook latch and led Auggie inside when the door swung open, the smell of sawdust, hay and chickens hanging heavy in the air. Bob carefully inspected each and every egg in the nesting boxed to be sure none of them had any chicks growing inside. The ones that didn’t would be sold or eaten for breakfast, while those that did were carefully placed back in the nests. 

“Alright bud, go get some,” Bob gently instructed. 

Auggie reached into the boxes that were almost floor level while Smokey seemed to watch him carefully from his perch. Bob once again, carefully inspected the eggs and in no time, they had the entire basket full of eggs. 

“Any chance we’re getting a slot at the farmer’s market?” Bob asked. 

“You bet your ass we’re getting it,” Joe remarked, adjusting the black stetson cowboy hat on his head. “I’m not gonna have a fridge that’s just full of eggs. We’ll sell’em for two bucks a a dozen and leave it at that.” 

Bob and his father bantered back and forth before they returned the egg basket to the house. You had just come out with a mug of fresh coffee, still a little bit sleepy, but happy to see your husband, father-in-law and your son going about to start the day’s work. 

You kissed Bob right on the lips before handing him his coffee. “Did he have fun?” you asked. 

“More than you think,” Bob said, his smile broadening. “Cows still need to be milked though. I think the sow’s gonna have her litter soon because her mate’s going nuts.” 

“Well, until then, enjoy yourselves.” 

You knew that Bob would. It may have been early in the morning, but you two were out to enjoy it together. 

[yellowhollyhock]

worthless, day 13

bayverse Raph again… when did I become a bayverse fan? oh well. more tmnt things to love sure why not

tw suicidal ideation, somewhat graphic descriptions of a plan

Every time I talked about walking out, it was because I was afraid.

Some days, Raph just couldn’t muster up the strength to pretend to care about training. He bulldozed through without any technique, take the lecture, do the extra flips, whatever. He just wanted to go back to his room.

What he really wanted was to get out of the sewers for good. Sometimes when they were out together he’d catch himself gazing down the highway. He didn’t really think it through or anything, just imagined picking a direction and walking. Find a truck headed some place far and hitch a ride. The asphalt went on forever; he could follow it anywhere.

Other times he looked down from the buildings they perched on and imagined following the asphalt in a somewhat different way, meeting it at the bottom and never looking back.

Maybe in all practical ways they were the same plan. How long would he survive on his own, anyway?

A sharp knock made him sit up in bed; he didn’t want his family to catch him moping, especially after his pathetic performance that morning.

It was enough to motivate him to walk to the door and open it himself, which felt pretty big of him on a day like this.

Predictably, it was Leo. “What do you want?”

Leo crossed his arms. “You can’t spend all day in your room, Raph. Get out and do something.”

Raph rolled his eyes. “Oh sure, I’ll just go out and do something.”

Leo was already walking away, pointedly leaving the door wide open. With a low growl, Raph followed and slammed it behind him.

“Cause there’s so many freaking options!”

The slammed door caused Donnie and Mikey to jump; they were huddled in front of the computer screen, probably playing a game. Leo was busying himself in the kitchen. “You’ll find something. It’s not healthy to stay cooped up all day.”

“No kidding,” Raph sneered.

He got no further reaction. He wanted to slam his head into the wall. Instead, he went to grab a coke out of the fridge, shoulder-checking Leo as he passed, and flopped noisily onto the couch.

“His stats pretty much all went to speed,” Donnie was saying softly. It was clearly only meant for Mikey; they’d been having a fine time before and how they were making themselves small and quiet to make room for Raph and Leo’s argument. In case he’d felt any doubt that he was the worst brother on the planet,

“But that’s all we need for this run, brah,” Mikey replied. “They can’t catch us, they can’t do a thing.”

Raph flipped on the tv, hoping to drown out the deafening tension that was making his brothers feel like they had to whisper.

“The really important thing with this recipe is not to overmix—”

“Still recovering from an injury last season—”

“Consult a doctor before taking—”

“Recent crimewave in central New York—”

“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

He groaned in irritation; his mind wouldn’t latch onto anything and the added noise was worse instead of better.

Leo leaned over the back of the couch. “Go back.”

It was obvious from context he meant the channel, but out of all the things he couldn’t make himself focus on, the phrase stuck for Raph.

Go back to the sewers, you mutant freak.

Go back to your room. You’re not doing any good out here anyway.

He shoved the remote at Leo. “You wanna watch more depressing news about how much our city sucks? You go back. I’m going out.”

Leo crinkled his snout at him as he headed for the door. “What’s with your attitude today?”

Raph turned briefly back, only to see Leo already flipping back to the news.

“I said I’m going out,” he kicked the couch for good measure. “That okay with you?”

Leo gave him a sideways glare. “Fine, as long ad you don’t bring whatever you’ve got now back with you.”

I won’t bring anything back, Raph wanted to promise, because I won’t be coming back. I’ll find a road to follow until I can find a car big enough to crush me. Maybe I’ll just keep walking till I starve. You won’t ever have to worry about me and my crummy attitude again.

But before he formed a retort, Donnie was on his feet. “I’ll go with you!”

Raph stared. Mikey had easily slid all the way into Donnie’s vacated spot, without any of the fuss you’d normally expect from him if someone ditched mid-game. They were both way smarter than they let on.

He narrowed his eyes. “No.”

“I need more copper wiring,” Donnie insisted. “I was gonna go later anyway.”

Raph glanced at the full bin of copper wires under Donnie’s desk. Mikey subtly moved in front of it.

“I’m not running errands,” Raph insisted, “Just going out.”

“It’ll only take a minute,” Donnie said brightly, already grabbing his backpack and bo staff. “Then we can go wherever you want. Hey, are you gonna bring your sai?”

So Raph grabbed his weapons and went out with Donnie. He felt heavy and worthless; it couldn’t be more obvious that his little brother was keeping an eye on him. Like it wasn’t bad enough he was hard to deal with when he stuck around. Now he was an extra burden because they knew he might try and run out on them.

I was afraid that I wasn’t worthy to stand next to you and call you brothers.

He wouldn’t really do it. He just thought about it sometimes.

“Hey, Raph,” Donnie motioned him over to the dumpster he was looking through. “Come check this out.”

It was a stupid thing to ask, because Raph was supposed to be the lookout. “Show me later.”

“No, you have to come see. Please?”

Raph kept his back to his brother and his eyes on the streets.

“Please please please please please please—”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.”

Donnie was holding up a battered, but nostly intact, xbox console.

“It’s mostly functional,” he reported with a grin. “Just needs a couple replacements. It’s crazy, the things people will throw away.”

“Yeah. Crazy.”

It was hard to drag himself through those kinds of days. But he was making it. And he was glad he was making it.

If Donnie could find something worthwhile digging through trash, maybe Raph could find it somewhere in him to believe he was salvageable too.

He had some serious deep-rooted issues. No denying he needed some upgrades and parts replaced.

But he wasn’t worthless.

[yuthoe]

Fatigued (PENTAGON: Hui)

after a quick look at my last fic post, i realized that it's been a little more than a year since i last posted any original thing from me lmaooo

i still have an unfinished vampire!wonho fic but i keep getting stuck cuz writing smut is haaaard. so since i have downtime from our workshop i decided to finish this, so i'm sorry if it seems like the ending is rushed. this one is still super tame compared to the others i have mapped out (as far as angst goes, this is not the heaviest one lol) so i hope y'all look out for those

PAIRING: Hui (Lee Hoetaek) x gn!reader. GENRE: fic, general, angst. WARNINGS: vampire!au—contains mentions of blood. WORD COUNT: 1,697.

---

Hoetaek closes the door to his apartment quietly, slinging the strap of his crossbody off his shoulder and carefully setting it on the floor of the entryway before toeing off his shoes. In his other hand he holds a rectangular insulated bag, small enough to not be conspicuous, but big enough to fit his refills if they’re packed right.

It’s the first time he’s come home to his apartment in a week, cooped up in his studio composing songs, fixing demos, struggling with lyrics. It was only the notification from his phone reminding him of his appointment at the hospital that got him to get up and fix the clutter around the room.

Now he tiredly carries the insulated bag into the kitchen, propping the fridge door open with his leg and opening the zip of the bag carefully.

The blood bags are carefully packed into the container—enough for around two weeks. Hoetaek doesn't need to feed often (he's gotten a good handle on his thirst throughout the decades), but he still regulates his feeding times so he doesn’t burn through them all in one sitting. Before he holed himself up in the studio, he made a point to stock his body up on nutrients so he didn’t have to bring any bags to clutter up the mini-fridge there.

Hoetaek sighs, blinks hard a few times to clear the daze out of his eyes so he can store the bags properly at the back of the fridge, but giving up quickly. He’s dizzy, sleepy, bone-tired, and frankly a little smelly from working non-stop these past few days. Before he passes out from exhaustion, he decides to just dump the refills onto the only empty space near the front of the fridge. A nice, hot shower and a soak in the bath is in order.

He dumps the now empty bag on the countertop and makes a quick stop to the bedroom to fetch his towel, before heading to the bathroom. Along the way, he taps on his phone with one hand, typing out a quick text to you. 

Hey, honey. I'm back at the apartment. Gonna take a quick shower, but you can come in anytime. 

Hoetaek leaves his phone on the counter top, and inch by inch relaxes as he settles into his bath time routine.

—

The bath is steamy when he finishes an hour later, refreshed and ready to take a much-deserved break. He whistles as he pads barefoot to the bedroom to change into the soft and comfy pajamas you gave him recently. When he finally finishes dressing and doing his minimal skincare routine, he steps out to the living area and sees you seated on the small couch.

“Oh, hi, babe! Didn’t hear you come in.” A lie. He heard it loud and clear when his phone buzzed on the counter midway through his shower; heard the quiet thud of the door and the lock fastening on the latch when you came in; heard the shuffling of your feet as you walked around the apartment in your house slippers; heard you rifling through the kitchen and the fridge looking for food or something to make a light meal with because he knows you like cooking for him after he’s had a tough day at work.

Cat’s out of the bag, as far as Hoetaek is concerned—you definitely saw the blood bags in the refrigerator. He is just delaying the inevitable at this point, refusing to acknowledge that he knows about your discovery and the worried and suspicious look on your face as you sit in silence.

“Yeah, I got in around fifteen minutes ago,” you say. He notes the way you twiddle your thumbs in your lap, looking away quickly to make a beeline to the kitchenette. It’s clean, just the way he left it an hour before, with no signs of anyone attempting to cook anything. Hoetaek figures you were too shaken by what you saw and gave up trying to whip something up and pretend everything is fine.

It is with a quiet resignation that he reaches into a cupboard for an opaque mug and rummages in the fridge for a blood bag, keeping his back towards you to hide him unscrewing the stopper and squeezing out the thick liquid into the mug. “Are you hungry? We can get something delivered,” he calls out, drowning out the sloshing sounds of the blood pouring out from the bag. Once he’s filled the mug almost to the rim, he screws the cap back on with practiced ease, licking his fingertips clean before stowing it back in the fridge, just on top of the pile.

Hoetaek hears you stand and pad all the way to the counter separating the kitchen from the living area as he looks for a reusable straw in one of the drawers, plopping it in the mug. “No, I’m good,” you say. The sweet taste of A-positive soaks his tongue as he takes a sip and he sighs in relief. He takes another drag through the straw before turning to face you, that worried look still on your pretty face. “Just…”

Your nails nervously tap on the faux-marble countertop. “Are you okay, Hoetaek? Are you sick or something?”

He holds the cooling mug tightly in both hands, shrugs. “What do you mean?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “I… I saw blood bags. In the fridge.” And then you start rambling. “I was just looking for something to cook for you because I know you’ve been at the studio working the whole week and figured you might want a salad or noodles or something. I didn’t mean to see—they were just there and I thought it was a pile of, I don’t know berry flavored jelly, I guess? But then I flipped one over and realized it’s blood and it had the label and everything, so I freaked out because how did you get that much blood and what are you gonna use all of it for?? Now, I’m concerned and worried and just a little bit freaked out about this whole thing.” Your fingers continued tapping a staccato rhythm as you talked, and finally still when you stop to catch a breath.

The mug almost falls out of Hoetaek’s hands as he regards you with shining eyes. He’d been lying to you, keeping such a big part of himself a secret from you for years. He can tell himself that he did it to protect you, to keep you away from the uglier side of him, but that’s not the whole truth. The fact of the matter is, Hoetaek is just scared; he is scared that you’ll just run off when the truth comes to light and he doesn’t think he can handle that.

The vampire sets the mug down on the counter next to the refrigerator, the contents well out of your sight, before standing in front of you. He lets the marble island between you act as a barrier, even as he takes both your hands in his. His thumbs smooth across your skin, teeth biting at his lip as he tries to find the right words.

“Babe… Thank you for worrying,” he finally starts. “But you didn’t need to. I’m not sick, although I know you get concerned that I’m too pale sometimes, but that’s just because I’m cooped up in the studio a lot.” He chuckles, and sees a corner of your mouth twitch upwards. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “We’ve been together for almost three years. And considering that I plan to get on your nerves for the foreseeable future, I suppose I need to be straight with you.

“I’m…” He takes a deep breath. “Well, to put it simply, I’m not human. I’m a vampire and I drink blood. I was born in the late 1890s, but I’ve been 30 for around eighty years or so.” He watches your face, looking for any sign of disgust or apprehension in the lines on your forehead. “I know this is a lot, and I’m not expecting you to stay after finding out about all this. If you need a break—from me—I completely understand.”

Hoetaek squeezes your hands and is about to release them, but you tighten your grip.

“You…” Hui’s brows knit as he watches you struggle to find words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replies quickly. “Take all the time you need.”

“No, it’s… I’m okay with it, I think?” You keep his hands in yours as you round the corner of the island to stand beside him. “I don’t mind that you’re a vampire, at least. I know I have questions, but I just don’t know how to word them properly, I guess?” The heat of your palms travels up as you drag them along his arms, across his shoulders, and stop to gently hold his cheeks. “I still love you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you say. “I have no reason to stop loving you, Hoetaek.”

He squeezes your hands, knuckles white. “But…,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I’m not like you, I’m not human—I’m different… Does that not scare you?”

You look square in his eyes, searching for something in them, and then you slowly shake your head. “No. You’re you, and as far as I’m concerned, the only different thing here is that you apparently drink blood straight out of the bag. You don’t feel different, you don’t look or sound different. So you’re still my Hoetaek, right?”

Hoetaek thinks he could cry. It never crossed his mind that you would turn him away after baring himself—you have no bad bone in your body. But hearing you say so confidently that you still love him, that he’s still yours… made his long dormant heart almost beat again.

He surges forward and wraps his arms around your waist, buries his nose into your neck. (He is definitely not crying.) “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

Hoetaek feels your head rest against his, your arms embracing him so gently, so carefully. “I love you, too. Always.”

[jensownzoo]

I have a functional chicken coop!

It’s completely shaded and tightly enclosed in its location, so the pictures aren’t ideal, but here we go with part one:

I started building the new coop/run in January 2023 because my hens were all older and I knew that I wanted both to add “new blood” in the spring to keep the eggs coming as well as provide more space in general for my flock. There were some limitations and design flaws with the old coop/run such that it made more sense to build a better, second one than just add on to existing. The initial goal was to build it utilizing only materials leftover from other projects or scavenged during my weekly alley walks home from library/grocery store runs. The only things I ended up having to buy was a quart of flooring adhesive, two tubes of silicone caulk, and one can of spray foam insulation—less than $40 spent specifically for this project.

I cleared out the lumber and other miscellany stored in a protected area by the garage and shed. Then leveled the ground as best I could given that there are 8 silver maple trees running down the property line next to the garage. The garage protects the north side, the shed the west, the maples and neighbor’s privacy fence the east, and a large eonymous bush the south. This pic was taken in late afternoon and you can see that the spot is entirely shaded. To the point that I haven’t even put in a “chicken fan” for them this summer because the temps are staying quite reasonable.

A secondary goal was to make this run as rodent proof as possible. As fun as it is to see chickens catch mice, the mice tend to hide during the day in spots the chickens don’t disturb. They actually ate through my garage and into the run (the original coop is in a similar position but on the other side of the shed), which is very much not cool. So not only are the walls of the run encased in hardware cloth, but it’s also on the bottom underneath the wood chips and beneath the roof. If they find a way in, it wasn’t because I didn’t try.

The corrugated portion of the roof is two sheets of Ondura (the edges partially melted in last summer’s heat and a few sheets of plastic decking underlayment.

I made a kind of bi-folding nesting box access on the side.

The first part folds down to allow for egg collection. It’s secured with a spring-locking hook-and-eye hardware set. I use high-sided litterboxes for my nesting boxes and took the height of them into account when figuring out where to put this access.

Then I made the bottom piece also able to fold down so I can slide the nesting boxes out to change out shavings/clean. It’s secured with two barrel bolt latches on the sides. This setup also allows coop cleanout and I can slide my whole body into the coop from here in an emergency. You can see the sheet vinyl flooring I installed this week in this pic too.

Two bags of shavings fills things about halfway when still new and fluffy. I do the deep litter method, so this will be added to later as needed. In the other coop I then scoop the dirty broken down bedding directly into the run to finish composting, but I won’t be using this new, completely roofed run for composting. The used bedding will have to be transferred over to the original run (which allows rain into a small portion).

So here’s the front of the coop in the run. The pop door (open) is on the left. There is a window made of plexiglass along the top to let in light. And the rest of the front is another bi-fold situation, but different—the top folds up and the bottom folds down. The upper portion is screened with hardware cloth for ventilation—it will be covered by a plexiglass panel in the winter that I still have to build. I probably will also cover a bit of the right side with something opaque once nesting boxes are needed so they are appropriately dark and private, but that won’t be a problem until spring.

I’ve reached the post limit for pics, so will continue this post in a reply—Stay tuned.

[honeesucker]

Pairing: Alpha!Bokuto Kōtarō x F!omega reader

Genre: A/B/O AU 🐾 | Smut, 18+ // minors DNI!

WC: 3,057

My whole body was shivering despite it being a sweltering sunny day, my mind was hazy and clouded with the need to submit to an Alpha. 

To be overtaken, pounded into until I was a dumb mess of omega mush and knotted until I was fat with pups.

Fucking hormones and omega instincts.

Fucking expired heat suppressants.

Stupid fucking idiot me for not noticing until it was too late.

My rational mind fought off the swarm of nuisance thoughts as I hurried my way back to my apartment carefully avoiding anyone’s gaze, suffocating my scent glands in a thick hooded sweater and scarf I had kept at the bakery for the unexpected colder days. It didn’t do much to ward off the curious glances and sniffs from the passing Alphas and others on the street, but luckily none acted on instincts, I didn’t stick around long enough to trigger anything in them.

My thighs were sticking together uncomfortably beneath my summer dress as the slick pooled in my panties and ran down the sides. The friction against my sensitive core only added to the ache, and I had to fight every ounce of instinct in me to hold back the whimpers, to not just fall on the ground and present myself to the next suitable Alpha that crossed my path.

I just needed to get home unscathed and get on my pharmacy app to order a fresh batch of suppressants, wait out a week for them to take full affect and I’ll be good to return to my normal, uncomplicated life.

I had been lucky in avoiding anymore people. No one was waking along the final stretch that led to my apartment building; a high-rise nestled just outside of the main district of downtown but still fairly luxurious for an apartment building. After a rough time in my earlier years out on my own, I decided once my bakery was successful enough I would splurge and put myself in a comfortable apartment with extra building security for my own peace of mind. I made my way to the door where the Beta doorman was waiting with it open for me, smiling until he caught the edge of my currently overwhelming scent.

“Quick, quick in miss Y-N,” Ferris ushered me through the door and shut it behind us. Walking me to the empty elevator and pushed my floor, nearly the top, at 27 of 35. “You shouldn’t be out wandering around in such a state, it isn’t safe for you!” The older man patted my hands in his with a worried expression. I just smiled and nodded along to his worrying over me.

“I know Mr. Ferris,” I sighed, “there was an unfortunate mishap with my medication so I’m gonna be staying cooped up for a bit.” He just nodded and ushered me along, and I gave a small wave and smile as the doors closed and he gave me one final wave off. I sighed, releasing the death grip I had on the jacket around me, still covering my scent glands as best as I could, but not with so much force around my throat. I’m surprised I didn’t pass out from self-asphyxiation on the way home.

After a few minutes in the elevator my floor was finally reached with a gentle ding! and I was hurrying out into the hall to make sure I was alone. With no one around I felt safe enough to walk briskly to my apartment without any further paranoia. I was reaching my door, just about to press in my key code and slink into a week of needy depression when I heard the door slighty adjacent to mine across the hall open behind me. 

My whole body froze like a bunny caught in a wolf’s gaze.

Fuck.

“Hey hey hey, my sweet little Y/N!” A bright, jovial baritone rang out behind me, and soon I felt the looming presence of the man I feared most coming into contact with at this very moment right at my back. The immense heat radiating off of him in waves with his sweet, clean scent with mint, along with a headier male musk underneath. “You’re home early! Sorry to be a pest but did you bring any pastries home with you? I have such an awful craving right now and-” my kind, handsome neighbor regarded me silently, and what I didn’t see were his sweet golden eyes darkening to a dangerous lustful shade as he leant forward and took a gentle sniff in. A ragged breath leaving his chest as he inched forward just enough for me to feel his clothing ghosting against my back. “Y/N? Are you okay? You smell.... you s-smell so good. Different,” he slurred behind me, leaning down to rub his cheek against the top of my head and nose my hair as he took in deeper breaths. I was completely frozen, in fear or need... I couldn’t decide.

Maybe both.

When my neighbor let out a deep, rumbling groan from inside his chest I leant more towards need in my current aching state as I instinctively pressed my body back against his. “Y-Y/N you shouldn’t be out right n-now in your state s’not safe y’know...” his voice trailed off, a pained mixture of a whimper and a growl leaving his chest as I reached forward and punched in my key code to my apartment.

“Ko,” I heard the Alpha behind me purr as his name slipped from my mouth, my voice and body trembling. “I had a bit of a setback as you can tell, so no pastries today,” the whimper that left him made my cheeks warm because it wasn’t hormonal, it was just Bokuto being a pouty baby who wanted a soft bread or sweet cake.

“Mm s’okay Y/N...” Bokuto’s voice trailed off as he placed his large hands on my hips, palms swallowing my sides and pressing tightly into the plush flesh, fingers gripping down with a bruising force. He was leaning forward and placing soft kisses along my shoulder and up my neck until he licked a small strip up along where my scent glands were and I couldn’t stop the full-body shudder than shook me. “D-do you want me to stop?” His voice was a whisper, still heavy with need but more Bokuto than Alpha was talking to me. I shook my head, stepping into my apartment and allowing the Alpha to come in with me, slipping out of our shoes in a tangled mess of legs, and laughing as Bokuto hastily locked the door behind him.

“I know we’re both kind of teetering on the edge of control right now,” Bokuto continued gently, hands still gripping my sides tightly as he allowed me to set my things down on the bench in my entryway. A low growl leaving him when I almost slipped out of his hold. “But I need to know it’s not just your omega pushing you into this Y/N. I’ve admired you since I first met you, wanted you,” Bokuto was peppering my neck and the side of my face with butterfly kisses, “but if you tell me to stop, to leave... I will. Nothing will change between us if you put up a boundary for yourself right now but everything will change for the worse if you force yourself into something you don’t want...” I couldn’t believe the articulated thoughts of pure, sweet kindness coming out of Bokuto’s mouth but I was so happy to hear them. I’ve had such a huge crush on my long-time Alpah neighbor since he came knocking on my door one late evening when I was testing recipes, a mess of apologies and need as he caught a whiff of the new cakes I was trying to perfect and the poor thing had just returned home from an away game with his volleyball team, starving and exhausted. He spent the night giving me feedback on my testers and I let him sugar-crash on my couch, waking him up with a healthier breakfast more suitable for an athlete in the morning. 

We’ve been close since that day.

Well, close but not as close as right now... despite the aching deep in me that always welled up inside whenever we spent time together. My omega whimpering at how perfect of an Alpha Bokuto would be.

“Y/N?” Bokuto was asking once again, I could feel his hands shaking as his control over his instincts began to slip. 

I simply nodded.

“Y-yes Ko,” I swallowed hard when his hands gripped tighter on my hips, crushing me further against him as his arms snaked up my body to wrap me in a tight hold from behind. “I want this - I’ve wanted this, w-wanted you...” I couldn’t form full thoughts, not like he deserved to hear but we were both in a compromising state of mind right now. “P-please Alpah, need you so badly,” that was all it took to have me turned around so fast in his arms, his lips crashing against mine in a mess of teeth and saliva as pure need took over us both. One of his hands was fisted in the hair at the back of my head, the other cupping the side of my throat, his thumb stroking along my jaw as he deepened the kiss like he was trying to crawl inside my body through my mouth. 

He was pushing me back toward my couch, his hands now fumbling behind me to pull the zipper of my dress and have the fabric pooling to the ground. He growled into my mouth as he hooked two fingers in the hem of my lace panties to pull them down and off while his other hand guided me down softly onto the couch. He had me draped over the arm of the sectional as he layed down between my legs, I was able to peek open my heavy eyes in time to see the primal look on his face before he licked his lips and leant down to lick a long strip up my soaked pussy, the sensation sending electric shocks through my whole body as I arched off the couch with a yelp.

Bokuto let out a deep, rumbling growl with a whisper of “so sweet,” before diving back in and devouring my sopping pussy like a man starved. His mouthed latched around my swollen clit with a pressure that had me seeing stars as he suddenly plunged two thick fingers into me, curling upward against my sticky walls, quickly bringing me to the edge. He didn’t relent his assault on me, mouth staying locked on and fingers curling cruelly as my body shook and arched up off the couch with a shrill scream, my whole body convulsing with wave after wave of electric pleasure shocks. Bokuto removed his fingers slowly and licked them clean, blowing a cool stream of air against my sensitive clit, causing me to whimper in his hold as he delved his tongue into me to lap up more of my slick. I was a whimpering mess above him, wriggling to be free of the stimulation to the newly over-sensitive area but he kept his pink muscle deep in my pussy as his nose occasionally brushed up against my clit causing my hips to buck further against his face. The groans he was letting out were downright sinful and soon had me back on the precipice of another impending orgasm. Bokuto reached one hand up to thumb circles on my clit as he kept himself deep in my pussy, soon I was bucking up against his face as another heavy wave crashed down on me. I was panting and swearing and pleading to be released because the pleasure was stating to morph with a tinge of pain as he kept up the relentless assault.

“K-Ko please no more,” I was whining above him, my chest heaving with broken breaths. Bokuto’s mouth was shiny with my slick as he crawled up my body and crashed his lips down on mine. I could taste myself on his tongue, in combination with feeling his still-clothed cock straining against his joggers, had me mewling with need and bucking up to meet his bulge.

“You say no more but your body is begging for me,” Bokuto muses. “Do you want me to stop?” His golden eyes were looking down at me, dark and swirling with lust as a beautiful half-smile graced his face. I shook my head and he just chuckled. “Use your words baby, ask for what you want,” he cooed, leaning down to pepper kisses and gentle nips along the side of my neck, stopping to suck on a particular spot once my let out a gasp and wriggled beneath his large body caging me in.

“Mmphf, p-please Ko, Alpha, need you,” my cheeks were burning but I didn’t care, my whole body was on fire for the man on top of me, crying out to him for any crumb he’d give me, “need your cock-mm-need to feel so full with you please Alpha, please,” Bokuto crashed his lips back down against mine with an urgent need while he ground his hardened cock against my slick-covered core, the friction of the fabric bringing another whine from my throat.

“How can I say no to such a pretty omega begging to be knotted, hm?” Bokuto was nuzzling down into the crook oh my neck, “pretty omega, perfect omega, my omega.” I didn’t realize when he had shimmied out of his joggers but soon I felt the large tip of his cock pressing into my hole, even with two orgasms and the slight stretch from his fingers earlier it still burned so wonderfully to be full of Bokuto’s cock, every inch of his cock catching on my walls and dragging new sensations forward as I clawed at his back, wrapping my arms and legs around him in an attempt to be closer to him, to pull more of him inside of me. “Such a needy slut for her Alphas cock, hmm?” I nodded my head so vigorously, rolling my hips to coax the man above me into moving. “Poor thing, I’ll give you everything you need...” with a quick snap of his muscled hips, his thick cock was driven deep, the head pummeling against my cervix with blinding pressure as he slammed his hips over and over into me, heavy balls slapping against my slick-coated ass sending shivers up my spine. “Fuck, ‘mega, you’re so tight-fuck- so fucking perfect, so perfect for me.” Bokuto was all bared teeth and snarls above me, leaning down to kiss and bite over his earlier marks along my neck. I craned my neck, exposing more of myself to his assault as he kept up the brutal pace inside of me. It didn’t take long before I was crying out with the sudden hit of an orgasm I didn’t even feel the buildup to, the walls of my pussy were sucking a Bokuto in deeper with each of his thrusts, and soon I could feel the way his hips stuttered, sloppy and less practiced. I didn’t realize his teeth were on me, biting deep into the flesh of my neck where my scent glands were, blood spilling out of the wound and into his mouth and down my neck and chest as Bokuto marked me as his, licking one long, final strip up my neck across the wound, sealing it.

There was a final quick snap of his hips, until Bokuto’s large knot stretched me with a burn that had me whimpering, gasping when it popped through the small opening of my pussy, slick helping to coax it inside as my walls clamped down on him and his knot further in another orgasms as he emptied ropes of hot, white cum deep inside of me. The continued short, sharp thrusts Bokuto made as he continued to empty himself inside of me brought on one more orgasm, my whole body siezing and shaking, walls clamping down around the fleshy member knotted inside of me, my chest was heaving with deep breaths as my eyes edged with black and every small twitch Bokuto made inside of me had me crying out - with pleasure or pain or both - I couldn’t tell. He leant down to scoop me up, our bodies still connected as he sat down on the catch and allowed me to stradle his lap, nestling me tightly against his chest as he kissed my hair and whispered such sweet things to me over and over, petting my hair, my face, peppering kisses along my cheek, jaw, down my throat and to my shoulder, gliding over the mark he made earlier with a gentle ghost of a kiss. My whole body felt like a live-wire ready to make contact with the wrong type of metal at any given moment, but Bokuto kept rubbing small patterns over my exposed skin, kneading his fingers deep into muscles I didn’t realize were sore, kissing un-kissed inches of skin over and over until he felt me relax in his arms, felt my body droop with exhaustion as I rested my head on his shoulder, snuggling into the crook of his neck as I bit back into him, giving him a small omega mark. Bokuto shuddered beneath me, gripping me tighter as I licked up the blood and kissed over the already-healing mark, nuzzling back into him.

“Y/N~” Bokuto said in a whisper sing-song voice, shaking me gently, “I think we can separate now baby,” he said, trying to lift me off of him gently.

“Mm, no Ko,” I grumbled, a gentle growl leaving my throat, “wanna stay like this  a little longer.” Bokuto just nodded, rubbing my back and resting his head on my shoulder.

“Yeah, a little longer baby,” he mused, “but then can you bake me something?”

You just shook your head, your body shaking with held-in laughter as you agreed to bake him as many sweets as he wanted just as soon as you could walk. Bokuto offered to do all the heavy lifting if you just told him what to do - and you relished in the idea of sharing the kitchen with Bokuto - with your Alpha.

What a sweet start to something beautiful. 

[snzunii]

— SEE YOU AGAIN [14]

+ summary. in which, you and sanzu are in a very chaotic arranged marriage.

+ tags. romance, fluff, heavy (?) angst, modern au, smau, arrange marriage au, college setting, use of profanities, eventual smut, 18+

+ note. aaaaa finally?! this chapter has been sitting on my drafts for so long?? 'm sorry if this took so long aaaajdshfadusfji anyway, i hope u enjoy this chapter! likes, rb, replies and asks are always appreciated <3 ily alllll

+ status. on-going

+ masterlist.

“Honey?” as soon as your bedroom door opened, you hurriedly covered yourself with your blanket and wiped the tears off of your face. “Are you sleeping? It’s time for dinner.”

All you could do was to pretend that you’re sleeping, you don’t really have the energy to explain yourself to your mother as of this moment because there’s only one person that you wanted to cry your eyes out to, that you wanted to tell all your feelings to.

But how can you do that when that one person is the reason why you’re hurting right now?

“I can hear you sniffing.” your mother sat on the bed, “What happened, hm?”

You can’t even talk to him, you have been avoiding him for how many months now. You thought you’re doing fine, you said that you would distance yourself because he’s in love with someone else now.

What hurts the most is that you thought he felt the same for you. You were with him ever since you were kids. From the way that he looks at you, cares for you—you really thought he did.

You hated yourself for assuming things and for not telling him what you really felt.

You removed the blanket that was covering your body as you sat up from the bed, “It’s nothing.”

“Come on, now. How come your eyes are so puffy if it’s nothing, huh?” your mother wiped your tears, “Look at you, your eyes are swollen. How long have you been cooped up in here, crying?”

Hours?

Ever since you saw the picture that Sanzu posted with his girlfriend, you were crying your eyes out. It has been months, you at least expected that your feelings would subside but it didn’t.

Even if you don’t talk to him, you really love Haruchiyo from the depths of your heart and soul.

“I don’t know.” you mumbled, tears forming from your eyes once again. “I…”

You’re not supposed to break down in front of your mother but you have been keeping this to yourself for so long. If Haru’s there, then he would know something’s wrong in a heartbeat. If he’s not miles away then you immediately know what he would do, make stupid jokes until you laugh and if that doesn’t work—he’ll just hold you until everything’s alright.

Until you’re all better.

You wanted to speak to him right now and tell him to hold you until you’re okay. Until you learn how to let go of him on your own.

You want to let go of him because the more you hold on the more it cuts you deep, you didn’t know that loving Haruchiyo Akashi would hurt this much.

Your mother pulled you in, you latched onto her as if you’re a little child again who stumbled and fell. You whispered, tears falling from your eyes, “Mom… it hurts. So much.”

“I know.” she held you, as if she wanted to take your pain away. Your cries were so painful to her, you’re her child. Your sorrow is hers as well. How she hates to see you like this. You wanted to laugh at yourself, it’s just a silly childhood romance, it wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. “I know, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be alright. I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Hm. I promise.”

…

“Dad!” you yelled once you entered the living room of your house, causing your father who’s currently reading a newspaper to jump a bit, “I got a perfect score on my exams!”

“Don’t yell like that, young lady. You’ll give me a heart attack.” he shook his head, you just gave him a cheeky smile as you sprint towards him. “Perfect, huh? Let me see.”

Your father had a wide smile on while he looked at the bunch of papers that you just gave him, “Did you send this to Haruchiyo? You both like to boast to each-”

He stopped talking when he realized that you and Sanzu stopped talking two years ago. “Sorry.”

You snorted a laugh, “It’s okay, Dad. Where’s mom? I’m going to show this to her.”

“She’s in her office. I think she’s talking to Senju’s mom.” your father purposely said Senju because you know, he thinks you’re getting hurt whenever his name is mentioned.

Well, you are. But you’re not so petty that you banned your parents from mentioning his name in front of you. It has been two years ever since, do you miss him? Of course you do. Every single day, you stop yourself from picking the phone up and just straight up call him.

You can still see what he posts on his accounts and tell yourself that that’s enough, you don’t need to talk to him. At least, you can see how he is. But there are times that you really wanted to tell him about your day—so, you made the habit of texting yourself.

Pretending that it’s him that you’re talking to.

“Okay.” you answered, you were about to walk up the stairs when your father called your name, “Yeah, dad?”

“You know I’m proud of you.” you smiled and walked towards your father once again to give him a hug, he chuckled and tapped your back “Keep it up.”

“Thanks, dad. Of course, I will. I’ll study hard and be a defense lawyer like mom.” you said as you pulled away, smiling as wide as you could. You’re so determined to be like your mother, you look up to her and treat her as your role model.

But you didn’t know that dream would change the moment that you open the door to her office and hear something that you shouldn’t have.

All your dreams are deemed a delusion, a beautiful image that you created in your head that soon would be shattered,

“Mom-” you stopped the moment you heard that she’s still talking to Haruchiyo’s mother on the phone—you stood there, opening the door a bit to listen in on her conversation.

That you wish you didn’t, why did you choose to be nosy that day? You don’t know.

“I can’t handle the case since I don’t have the license to practice there.” you heard her chuckle, “Of course, it’s okay. I’m instructing her off the records so there’s no problem. You would be able to come home in no time once the case is handled.”

“Okay. So we’re cleared on the plan then? I already prepared everything in case we stumble on that option, if she didn’t tell her daughter to break up with Haruchiyo then we would sue her for defamation…”

It’s like your senses were barred the moment you heard that one sentence. You did remember your mom telling you that everything’s going to be fine.

Is this her way?

She would really use her power to step on someone innocent? You wanted more than anything to be with Haruchiyo but not like this.

The all high and magnificent image of your mother that you built these years were easily shattered into pieces. You feel disgusted, ashamed even. Was this woman really your mother?

Is this really who she is?

You opened the door and mustered all your strength, “Mom.”

“Oh? You’re home, darling.” she smiled at you, “What-”

“You would sue someone innocent? Defamation? On what grounds? Naomi’s mother didn’t do anything wrong-”

Your tears were falling from your eyes, yet, your mother still smiled at you. “You heard everything?”

“Mom!” you exclaimed, “I told you before that I wanted to be with Haru, but not like this!”

It pains you so much that your mother would resort to this kind of thing. It was like you blinked for a second and a completely different person was in front of you. She walked towards you and tried to wipe your tears but you avoided her touch.

It gave her some kind of sting in her chest the moment that she saw the look in your eyes. But she did what she had to, you’re her daughter.

Her one and only. She would go lengths just to make sure you have everything.

That you’re well and not hurting. It didn’t matter how she looked in your eyes, what matters the most is you.

“You listen to me.” she said firmly, “You heard nothing. If you want Haruchiyo then he’s yours. He’s yours even before his little girlfriend came so just let me handle this and everything would be alright.”

...

...

“What brings you here?”

You gave him a faint chuckle as you leaned on the railings, looking down at the passing cars on the streets. “I’m thinking about my life decisions.”

Kakucho chuckled as he stood beside you, “Again? I thought everything’s going well? You already confessed to each other, right?”

“Hm.” you hummed, he frowned when you abruptly turned to him, “What if I tell you something- hm. Nah, I don’t want to but I really need to tell someone or else I would go insane but- never mind. Oh, well-”

“For fuck’s sake just tell me.” Kakucho cuts you off causing you to laugh, “Is it that serious? Will I be jailed if you told me that?”

You laughed at him as you sat on the bench at the rooftop. It has been a week ever since your anniversary dinner party at Sanzu’s house and since then, you’re still bothered by your mother.

That memory of you overhearing things to be particular. You were burdened with that for so long, keeping it to yourself for God knows how long. Even Hina doesn't know about that.

“Maybe? You still want to hear it?” you jokingly said. Kakucho sat beside you, waiting for you to spill whatever is on your mind.

How you wanted to tell your friends but you don’t want them to look at you differently, it’s as if you’re afraid that they’ll see you how you saw your mother that day.

“I’ve been keeping this for so long, Kaku.” you stopped for a bit to glance at him, “You’re my friend, I don’t think I could also tell you because I don’t want you to look at me like I’m a different person. I know—no matter what I tell to defend myself, nothing could ever justify what decision I made that day.”

“Try me.”

You took a deep breath, fidgeting as you debated whether to tell Kakucho or not. You know Kakucho’s not going to say anything to anyone—he’s not the type—and you have been thinking that it must be nice to let this out.

You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, you can breathe—even just a little.

“Okay, fine.” you started, you looked around the uni’s rooftop first to see if someone’s there and when you confirmed that you’re the only people in there, you started to tell him everything. Kakucho just listened to you, you can’t really tell what’s he thinking because he’s just quietly paying attention to you.

“So?” you raised your eyebrow, “Should I tell him?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Look…” he started, “You told yourself that partly the reason is you didn’t want to hurt him too that’s why you didn’t tell him. What’s the point of telling him when everything’s alright? Why would you want to ruin everything you have right now?”

“I…” you paused, “I don’t want to ruin everything. I just thought that’s the right thing-”

“It is the right thing.” he said, “But there’s some things that needn't be said. Your mom didn’t sue his ex-girlfriend’s mom, right? There’s no serious harm done, except for Naomi’s feelings. Naomi, was it?”

You didn’t expect for Kakucho to tell you to keep your mouth shut. You expect him to be all righteous about it, he could easily advise you to tell your husband about it considering that he has feelings for you but he didn’t.

Maybe, he didn’t want you to be hurt. He knows how that situation could affect you. Or maybe he could understand, because if he’s in your place—if there’s even a single opportunity to be with the one he loves—he would grab that opportunity to be happy.

“You really surprise me sometimes, I expect you to tell me that I should tell Haru about it.”

He snorted a laugh as pats your head, “It’s a part of life. Someone’s bound to be hurt when you love somebody.”

You were about to speak when your phone vibrated, receiving a text from you know who else.

“Speaking of, he’s looking for me.” you smiled, “I should head down now, Kaku. Thank you for listening to my problems, again. You could talk to me about yours too, you know?”

“It’s no problem. I’m always here.”

+ see you again taglist. @hanmascult @ryouhoe @fl4mepillar @meena-in-a-nutshell @sanzudopeamine @hxked @xxrwzy @sophiesuna @douraken @mapachemapato @kawaii-desv @erishaitto @smolaf-filipino @hanmasgf @mitsuika @lustiel-winchester @cryszus @babydiamondblog @sseorin @k0ut4r0u

+ tokyo revengers taglist. @cosmiclvsh @tojisqueen @joranhaitani @r-xochitl @bekky06 @toshiswifey @Michelle_simps @ninetyeightrins @t4keomi @litle-crow @n-nara @hollowpurpl @iiclal @miyuuuuuposts @haitanilove @aclairysm @awkcasted @yukie35 @Prettylily @chronic-claire-universe @inupiko @chosoisbaby @marixxi @spaceemeeat @shizukuusagii @amaejiki @parca-de-destinos @kuraries @missysimpy @a-astxr @mui_xd @fr00g1es @gwynsapphire @kookie-my-little-sunshine @dazaisjester @kqtsukisgf @angtsumu @cakenchill @risano @madarasgf

[bibblelevi]

Bringing kitty Levi home for the first time and opening your house door, only for his head to drop upon seeing kitty/puppy zeke smirking there and waiting. This whole time, kitty Levi thought he'd be the only eye of your attention here but oh no, he couldn't have been more wrong. Seems like they've gotta compete for territory :P

Warnings for submissive Levi & Zeke, M/M/F, hybrids, pet play, master/pet relationship, mentions of punishment, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body and cock worship, crying, depression and self isolation, anal play, prostate milking, this was longer than expected

Levi is so incredibly hostile towards Zeke, and honestly, you can’t fucking blame him. Zeke’s such an instigator. Constantly tries to provoke Levi, and sometimes successfully “frames” him so Levi receives punishment instead of Zeke.

But after enduring a harsh punishment that he didn’t deserve, he starts isolating himself. He spends long hours cooped up in his room, all the way in the corner, and doesn’t come out for meals because he’s not hungry. He sleeps a lot, sometimes his entire days ago, and refuses interact with Zeke or you in the slightest. You can’t even get him to the vet for an annual check up because he won’t budge from his corner.

He misses you so much, but he’s also so fucking angry. Hange tells you that it’s plausible he’s experiencing an episode of sorts because of past experience at other homes and kennels, but you know it’s something else when he actually recoils from your touch and hisses at you. Levi’s not particularly hostile, especially not towards you. He’s actually very affectionate; he loves you more than he’s loved anyone. But fucking loathes Zeke. He’s jealous, he feels betrayed, and he has no way to communicate how he feels.

You noticie how Zeke is acting a little strange as well. He starts to linger outside of Levi’s room, a certain guilt in his eyes. Eventually you find yourself asking him if he has anything to do with Levi’s behavior, which earns a nod.

“Zeke, did Levi break my laptop?” you ask, remembering the event that started this spiral.

Zeke shakes his head.

“Did you?”

After a second, he nods. You inhale sharply with the revelation. “So, I punished Levi when he didn’t actually do anything?”

Another nod.

“What about the few weeks before that? When I came home with the trash littered all over the kitchen? Or when the couch cushions where torn up? I saw Levi in both the messes as soon as I arrived home.”

The repentant look tells you everything you need to know, and instant, crushing regret weighs on you enough to make you cry.

You’ll deal with Zeke later, but for now, you have to prove to Levi how sorry you are. God, you feel like the worst fucking owner in the world. It’s not like the punishments are anything neither your kitties can take, but you can’t imagine taking a punishment for something that wasn’t your fault to begin with—more than once!

You find yourself in Levi’s room, sat beside the bundle of blankets on the floor. His chin is propped on a pillow and he looks to be sleeping, so you take the rare opportunity to card your fingers through his hair. You scratch behind his ears, down his shoulders and back, then back up. And your fingernails feel so, so nice against his body. He stirs in his sleep and blinks his eyes open, surprised to find himself leaning into your touch despite the fact he vowed to despise you.

“Levi, I’m so sorry, baby,” you whisper, still scratching behind his ears. “I was wrong. I jumped to conclusions. I’m so, so sorry. I will work hard to make it up to you, I promise.”

Of course an apology isn’t going to completely fix everything, no matter how sincere you are, but he still nuzzles into your palm, having missed your touch more than anything in the world. He lets you move him into your lap, his fingers latching into your shirt and face buried in the crook of your neck while you continue petting and scratching him. And he starts to purr because it feels so good, the soft vibrations felt against your body.

“You’re such a good boy, Levi,” you praise him. “My good, precious boy.”

It’s only fair you spoil him afterwards. It’s been a long time since he’s felt any release or arousal—not since his last heat—so the moment you’re swirling two lubed fingers around his puckered little hole, he’s crumbling, all pretense thrown out the window.

Zeke gets to sit in watch, collared to the bed post on the floor, while his cock is neglected. All protests are muffled by a bit gag, and his hands are restrained away from himself to prevent any further misbehaving on his part. It’ll be a long time until his cock feels any sort of pleasure—at least until his next heat. (And you still debate if he deserves it even then. He needs to apologize first. Thoroughly.)

Levi’s spoiled with orgasm after orgasm, one of your hands wrapped around his cock while two of your fingers are buried in his ass, pressing into a swollen gland that’s been neglected for some time. He shivers through every climax, drool seeping out of his mouth as his fists fumble with the sheets. You make him come until he cries, until there’s an unending string of fluid pouring from his flushed tip.

“You deserve to be milked of every last drop, my love,” you tell him. Your tongue licks between his ass, swirling over his hole while your fingers continues to curl and pump away inside. “Should I have Zeke come up here and apologize? Clean you up?”

Levi nods dumbly, tongue hanging out of his mouth. And you acquiesce him, guiding Zeke onto the bed, right between Levi’s thighs once you have him on his back.

“Apologize to Levi,” you tell him, releasing the gag. “A sincere apology, Zeke. Nothing half assed. Show him how sorry you really are for setting him up.”

And Zeke apologizes with his mouth. He places kisses along Levi’s thighs, dragging his tongue and lapping up any come sticking to his skin. He licks below his balls, the sensitive area there, and comes back up, sucking each one into his mouth, then up his shaft and around his tip until, somehow, he’s fully hard again. Meanwhile, your mouth finds each of Levi’s pecs. You lick over his nipples, watching the way he squirms beneath the touch of more than one being. Every inch of him is cared for—it’s almost too much.

Tears prick his eyes, mostly because it’s the first time he’s ever felt truly loved or protected, even by Zeke (strangely enough). It’s the first time his body has ever received such praise. It’s the first time being in the center of attention like this—his pleasure being the sole focus.

Zeke takes him down his throat, all the way without having to be commanded, and relishes the way Levi’s cock twitches in the passage.

“See, you boys don’t need to be jealous of each other,” you say, carding through Levi’s hair with one hand and Zeke’s with the other. “I love you both all the same. I hope you can learn to love each other, too.”

Levi cries as he comes, his body quivering, and you know he’s spent afterwards with nothing left to give.

“So good,” you praise him. “You did so, so good, Levi. You deserved it. Rest.”

Then you reach down, cupping Zeke between the thighs. It’s the first time you’ve touched his neglected cock, and he knows not to expect anything, but he’s still disappointed when you release him.

“I love you,” you tell Zeke, placing a kiss to his nose, “but you know you have to be punished. What you did was cruel and unwelcoming.”

He nods and leans into your hand.

“A month. Absolutely no touching. You’ll give Levi all your orgasms. I think that’s fair.”

He doesn’t object. Instead he curls into place beside Levi on bed. The two of them wait for you to join—then they wake you up together.

[purrincess-chat]

Under the Moth’s Wing (Not-so-Enemies AU) CH5: Gamer

We’ve finally reached the end of the Friendship arc! This will be the last chapter for a while. I plan to release this story in 5 chapter arcs, so when I have completed the next arc, I will be back with more! I’m aiming for September, but we will see. I make no promises. The next arc is the Villain arc >;) Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Chapter 5

“Hey, dude!” Adrien and Nino exchanged their secret handshake at the base of the school steps the next morning.

“Morning, Adrien.” Rose waved as she and Juleka passed.

“Sup, Agreste.” Alix tipped her hat.

“Uh, hey.” Adrien gave a half-wave, looking to Nino with raised brows. “I thought everyone was gonna hate me after yesterday.”

“Nah, dude. You stood up for them. They’re all chill with you now.” Nino draped an arm over his shoulders as they followed their classmates up the stairs.

A smile curled on Adrien’s lips. “Really?”

“Well, almost everyone.” Nino nodded to Marinette and Alya who passed without so much as acknowledging them.

“I’m starting to think they’ll never like me.” Adrien sighed but shook it off just as quickly. “Oh well. I can’t please everyone. At least I’m making more friends, and I have to admit, I did have a little fun at my party.”

“Glad I didn’t totally ruin your bday,” Nino said. “You really weren’t kidding about your pops. I should have listened to you.”

“It’s okay. I’m just happy to have a friend that wants to celebrate my birthday,” Adrien said.

“Adrikins!”

He and Nino groaned as Chloe skipped over to them and latched onto Adrien’s neck. Tilting his head to avoid her kisses, he gently squirmed from her grasp.

“Hey, Chlo.” He winced.

“Did you get my present yesterday?” Chloe fluttered her eyelashes and puckered her lips.

Adrien suppressed a shudder. The large gold-framed portrait of Chloe had gone immediately into his closet, where no one would ever have to look at it again.

“No, it must have gotten lost in the mail with all of the akuma stuff yesterday,” he said.

Chloe stomped her foot. “Ugh, I can’t believe you ruined Adrikins birthday and my perfect gift, bubblebrain!”

“Something tells me I did Adrien a favor.” Nino smirked when Adrien grunted to conceal a laugh.

“Whatever. You’re ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous!” Chloe stormed off with a humph.

Adrien took a step to follow after her, but Nino grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the stairs.

“Come on, dude. They’re having tryouts for the Ultimate Mecha Strike tournament in the library. Anyone who tries out gets to miss first period.”

“Wow, are you really good at Ultimate Mecha Strike?”

“Nah, I mostly just play for fun, but I’ll take any excuse to get out of Mme. Mendeleiev’s class,” Nino said. “Besides, everyone knows Max is going to be one of the finalists. The tryouts are mostly just to see who’s gonna be his partner.”

“Can anyone try out?” Adrien asked as they ascended the stairs to the library.

“Yeah, you just play a round with Max. There’s no way anyone’s gonna beat him, so whoever has the highest score at the end will be his partner.” Nino pushed open the door and gestured him in.

Max was in the middle of a match with Kim when they entered, but the round would be over soon from the looks of it. Marinette and Alya were chatting with the other girls from their class in the corner, while Nathaniel and Ivan were teasing Kim for getting his butt kicked. When their game ended, Max pushed his glasses up with a smirk.

“You’ve improved since last time, but not enough to beat me.” Max extended a hand that Kim shook with a grumble.

“Okay, anyone else interested in trying out for the competition?” M. Damocles asked while scribbling Kim’s score on the clipboard.

“I will!” Adrien raised his hand.

Their classmates turned to look as he paced over and took the controller from Kim.

“Are you familiar with Ultimate Mecha Strike, Adrien?” Max quirked a brow when he sat down.

He shrugged. “Probably a little too familiar. I spent a lot of time cooped up at home before now, so I had plenty of time to play video games.”

“Then best of luck.”

He and Max shook hands and selected their characters. Adrien had never considered whether or not he was good at video games. It was hard to gage when he only ever played by himself. He didn’t expect to make the competition and doubted his father would let him compete even if he did. Still, it seemed way more fun to play games with other people, so he’d take any opportunity he could get to make new friends.

Their classmates gathered around to watch, even Marinette and Alya. Max started the round strong, wasting no time before charging in. Adrien blocked his initial shot, leading a counter of his own. Fighting games were a lot like fencing matches. Taking initiative didn’t always guarantee a point — it was all a matter of timing. Even still, Max was good, but to everyone’s surprise, Adrien was better.

“No way!” Alya gasped when Adrien landed the final blow.

Everyone’s mouths hung agape when “winner” flashed over Adrien’s character. He was good at video games after all. All those lonely summers spent locked inside of his room actually amounted to something.

“Dude, you won!” Nino shoved his shoulder with a wide grin.

“Unbelievable. Max lost. Twice.” Kim blinked.

“Twice?” Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed.

Max set down the controller, hands clenched into tight fists at his side. He took a deep breath and held out a begrudging hand to Adrien. “Congratulations, Adrien. You won fair and square. It looks like you will be taking my place in the competition.”

“Whoa, who else beat you?” Nino asked.

“I did.”

A chill shot up Adrien’s spine at Marinette’s voice. She glared down at him, arms crossed, hip cocked.

“Will anyone else be trying out?” M. Damocles asked. When no one in the room moved, he crossed Max’s name off the clipboard and clicked his pen. “Then it’s settled. The two students that will represent Francoise-Dupont in the competition are Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste.”

“That’s sick, dude!” Nino held out a fist for Adrien to bump but lowered it when Max stood up abruptly.

“Max-” Marinette started, but he held up a hand.

“I’m fine.” He moved swiftly for the door, pausing with his hand on the wood. Turning over his shoulder, he flashed Adrien and Marinette a smile. “Congratulations. I know you two will represent the school well. Now, if you all don’t mind. I’d like a little privacy.”

Marinette shot Adrien a glare as Max disappeared out the door. Had he done something wrong by trying out? Nino said anyone could, yet the tense atmosphere made Adrien feel like he shouldn’t have.

“The competition is next Saturday. You two should practice together to ensure our school is well represented.” M. Damocles instructed.

Great. Just what Adrien needed — alone time with the girl that hated him.

Marinette must have been thinking the same thing because she turned to M. Damocles and asked, “Could we practice here at the school?”

The principal shook his head. “Sorry, but the school closes at 4PM. You two will have to get together and practice on your own time.”

“But-”

“Best of luck to both of you. Now, off to class.” With that, he tucked the clipboard under his arm and herded everyone out of the library.

Marinette stalked down the stairs without saying a word to him, and Adrien jogged to catch up with her.

“So,” he said, stopping short when she flicked those cold blue eyes to him. “Um, M. Damocles said we should practice together after school?”

It came out like a question, but he didn’t know what else to say to the girl that absolutely hated his guts that he was now stuck in a reluctant partnership with for the next two weeks. When she remained quiet, Adrien swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Is it alright if I come over to your house this afternoon?” he asked. “I’d offer my place, but my father is kind of strict about who can come over, hence the whole Bubbler thing yesterday.”

Not to mention their evil butterfly cave hiding just behind the walls.

“Fine,” Marinette said. “We’ll practice at my house.”

“Oh, great.” Adrien flashed her a smile that she didn’t even come close to returning. “So, I’ll see you this afternoon?”

Marinette picked up the pace to catch up with Alya, leaving Adrien behind. He took that as a yes. He slowed down to meet up with Nino again and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have tried out after all,” he said.

“Don’t let Marinette get to you. You were totally awesome, bro. It’s like Max said, you won that competition fair and square.” Nino assured him.

“Do you think he’ll be okay? He seemed pretty upset.” Adrien curled his shoulders.

“Nah, Max is like a cyborg. He’ll probably just throw himself back into a training grind to beat you next time,” Nino said. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about spending one-on-one time with Marinette.”

Adrien sighed. “What should I do? She totally hates me.”

“I dunno, bro, but good luck.” Nino patted his shoulder.

“Thanks, I guess.” Adrien pursed his lips as they entered the science lab.

He locked eyes with Marinette, who glared until he looked away and found his seat. Whatever happened that afternoon, Adrien just hoped he made it out alive.

***

The bakery smelled of fresh bread and chocolate when Adrien entered after school, stirring his stomach into a growl. Lunch was hours ago, and the pastries all looked delicious. A small woman with dark hair like Marinette’s smiled at him from behind the counter.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked.

If it were up to his stomach, he would have bought one of everything, but he didn’t want to explain to Nathalie why he’d blown his whole allowance for the week on sweets.

“Uh, actually I’m here to see Marinette. Do you know where she is?”

The large man in the back froze, midway through piping filling into a macaron, and turned to him with narrowed eyes.

“We’re in the same class, and there’s this Ultimate Mecha Strike tournament coming up, and we kind of got paired up today.” Adrien quickly explained.

The man relaxed, twisting the two cookie halves together and setting the piping bag on the table.

“She mentioned the competition this morning. She was really excited about it,” the woman said.

“You must be Mme. Dupain-Cheng, then?” Adrien asked.

“That’s right, and this is my husband.” She gestured to the large man as he approached and put an arm around her.

“So, you’re pretty good at Ultimate Mecha Strike?” M. Dupain-Cheng quirked a brow.

Despite his overbearing stature, something in his face seemed friendly, a little twinkle in his eye that made Adrien feel more at ease. Were these really Marinette’s parents? They were so nice.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Adrien shrugged.

“Well, Marinette learned everything she knows from the best of the best.” M. Dupain-Cheng flexed a bicep larger than Adrien’s head. “She and I play all the time. I could give you some dad-style tips if you want.”

“Have you eaten anything? We just took some croissants out of the oven if you’re hungry.” Mme. Dupain-Cheng offered him a plate.

“Thanks.” He accepted one with a smile. The croissant was warm, the smell of yeast and butter making his mouth water.

“Wait, aren’t you the son of that fashion designer?” M. Dupain-Cheng asked, returning to his post filling macarons. “Agreste, right?”

“Yeah, I model for my father’s company sometimes to help out.” Adrien couldn’t resist, he took a healthy bite, the flakey layers melting in his mouth. He’d never tasted a croissant this good. Marinette got to eat these all the time? How could anyone be grumpy when they ate such delicious food every day?

“What a hardworking young man. No wonder you got partnered with Marinette,” Mme. Dupain-Cheng said. She plated a few more cookies and croissants and beckoned him to follow. “I’ll walk you upstairs to our apartment. You two can have these as a snack.”

“Thank you.” Adrien shoved the rest of the croissant in his mouth and trailed behind her through the back door and up the stairs.

Their apartment was small and cozy. Horizontal pencil lines striped the door frame with various dates and measurements. Family photos peppered the walls, pictures of a young Marinette in pink overalls with bows in her hair beaming toothlessly back at him. Was this the same girl that refused to even look at him at school?

Adrien stopped short just past the entry way, for standing at the base of the staircase, arms crossed and lips ever-so-slightly pursed, was Marinette. Her eyes brushed over him like he were simply part of the wall, sending a shudder down his spine.

“Hi, honey.” Mme. Dupain-Cheng kissed her cheek. “You didn’t tell us you had a friend coming over.”

“We’re not really friends.” Marinette shot Adrien a side glance as if to really drive that point home. “We just scored the highest in the tryouts.”

“I thought you said Max was going to win?” Mme. Dupain-Cheng said, setting the plate of treats on the coffee table in the living room.

“I thought he was going to,” Marinette said through gritted teeth.

Adrien wasn’t hungry for croissants anymore, no matter how delicious they tasted. His throat closed into a hard lump, his palms growing hot and clammy.

“Well, you must be really good at Ultimate Mecha Strike to beat Max, Adrien.” Mme. Dupain-Cheng flashed him a kind smile, a direct contrast to the cutting glares her daughter was giving him.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.” He shrugged.

“So humble.” Mme. Dupain-Cheng giggled. “Would you like some tea?”

“Mom, we need to practice,” Marinette said with a hint of a groan in her voice.

“Oh, alright. I’ll leave you two to your game.” She shot her daughter a chiding look. “Make yourself at home, and let me know if you need anything, dear.”

Don’t leave me with her! Adrien almost blurted as Mme. Dupain-Cheng headed for the door, but as it closed behind her, Adrien’s spine pricked with unease.

He jumped when Marinette retrieved the remote from the couch and clicked on the TV. She said nothing while setting up the game until she noticed him standing by the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, I was just- are we practicing now, or-”

“Yeah, sit.” She pointed to a spot on the couch and picked up a controller. “Here. You’re player 2.”

“Okay.” Adrien took the controller and sat down stiffly.

Marinette flopped on the opposite side, leaving a purposeful space between them, and blew a sigh through her lips. Adrien stole glances at her throughout the first round, but she kept her eyes trained on the screen, which was probably why she scored more points than him.

“Wow, you’re really good,” he said after the round.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m a finalist.” She rolled her eyes.

Adrien pursed his lips as the next round started, committing all of his focus to the game just like her. Even with all of his attention on the match, Marinette still scored way higher than him and carried most of the round. She almost didn’t need him to win. Despite the animosity brewing between them, Adrien had to admit, he was impressed.

“So,” Adrien drawled after a few games, finding the silence unbearable. “Your dad mentioned that the two of you play games together a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like video games?” he asked.

Her eyes narrowed, and she gestured to the results screen where her high score flashed. “Obviously.”

“That’s cool.” He nodded. “What else do you like to do?”

“We should probably focus on practicing instead of talking,” she said.

“Oh, right.” Adrien lowered his gaze as she started another game. “Your parents were really nice to me, but you don’t like me very much, do you?” When Marinette remained quiet, he continued, “Is this because of the gum thing? I swear it was all Chloe’s doing. I didn’t know she acted like that, and I was trying to take it off when-”

“It’s not about the gum thing.” Marinette turned to him, blue eyes blazing. “I just don’t want to be friends with someone who hangs out with the girl that bullies me.”

“I’m sorry,” Adrien said reflexively. He bit his lip. “Is it really that bad? How Chloe treats you?”

“Why do you care?” Marinette leaned back against the couch with a grunt.

“Because I…” Adrien swallowed the lump in his throat, but before he could continue, Marinette’s mother burst through the front door again with a cheerful smile.

“Who wants to try the new quiche I baked? You can tell me what you think of it.” Mme. Cheng held up a pan, the scent of meat and cheese wafting as she passed.

“Maybe we could take a short break?” Adrien suggested.

Marinette stood up, tossing her controller onto the couch. “Yeah, a break sounds nice.”

They took their quiche to-go — Marinette’s suggestion — and headed for the park across the street. They walked together, eating in silence for a few minutes. Despite how delicious Mme. Dupain-Cheng’s quiche was, Adrien found it hard to enjoy when Marinette would barely look at him, let alone speak two words to him.

Children ran past them playing games, and Marinette watched them go with a pensive frown.

“When we were kids, Chloe put gum in my hair. It was the first mean thing she ever did to me. I wore my hair in a ponytail to school, but she decided that ponytails were her thing, then she put gum in my hair, so we’d have to cut it out. My hair was too short to put in a ponytail after that,” she said.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“Another time, I wore a brand new dress to school. My grandma gave it to me as a gift from her travels, and everyone was complimenting me. Chloe spilled paint on it during art class.” She hugged her arms to her chest. “One time she glued me to a chair — they ended up having to cut my clothes to get me out. Then another day she pushed me off the swing set and broke my arm. She claimed it was an accident, but I knew it wasn’t.”

She turned to him, shoulders curled, eyes hooded, and for the first time since they met she wasn’t cold or harsh — she was tiny and vulnerable. Scarred from years of torment at the hands of someone Adrien used to hold dear.

“I’m really sorry. I’ve known Chloe for a long time, but I had no idea she acted like that.” He pursed his lips. “I-”

Screams echoed from the other side of the park, the creak of heavy metal groaning up the street. A large black robot rounded the corner of Marinette’s bakery, the pyramid at the top rotating around. The green eye in the center trained on them, the dull glow growing brighter.

“Watch out!” Adrien tackled Marinette out of the way of a blast, narrowly dodging the beam.

He took the brunt of the fall, rolling over Marinette and cradling her head against the impact. He met her blue eyes, merely inches from his own, but her hand quickly obscured his vision as she shoved him off.

“We should split up.” She took off before Adrien could protest.

“You’re welcome.” He rolled his eyes.

Adrien dodged another blast, annoyance flaring. His father hadn’t warned him of another akuma! Seriously, would it kill him to send a text?

Darting up the street, Adrien peeked over his shoulder frequently to dodge blasts. The mech suit was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He ducked behind an ad stand as the robot rounded the corner after him. Adrien blinked, surveying the poster inside — an advertisement for the upcoming Ultimate Mecha Strike tournament — and his blood ran cold. In the center of the poster stood a black robot just like the one chasing him. The same black robot Max used during the tryouts.

The ad stand disappeared in a flash of light, and Adrien raced between parked cars into the street. If that robot really was Max, it wasn’t hard to guess why he had it out for Adrien. How could his father make an akuma knowing it wanted to hurt him? Was he really relying on making that wish so much that he’d sacrifice Adrien to get it? He wouldn’t. Right?

Adrien skidded to a stop at the end of the street where abandoned cars made it impossible to get through. He turned to face the robot, bracing as the eye began to glow, but right before the blast came, Ladybug’s yoyo wrapped around his waist and yanked him to safety. Her strong arms caught him easily, knocking the breath from Adrien’s lungs as they dashed across the rooftops. She cleared the gap between buildings in a single bound, setting him down gently on the pool deck of the Grand Paris. His cheeks flushed, and he smoothed his windblown hair.

“Um, thanks, Ladybug.” He cleared his throat.

“You should be safe here. Rumor has it you’re pretty good friends with the owner’s daughter.” Ladybug palmed her yoyo and moved for the ledge.

“Wait!” Adrien caught her wrist. “I think the akuma is my classmate. I knocked him out of a competition he really wanted to be in, and I think it upset him.”

“All the more reason for you to stay here where it’s safe.” Ladybug pulled her arm from his grasp.

“But if this is my fault, I want to fix it,” he said. “Please, take me with you.”

“No, it’s too dangerous.” She shook her head.

“Please.”

Ladybug sighed, looking him up and down. “You’re going to come anyway, even if I leave you here, aren’t you?”

“I want to set things right. Let me help you, please.” Adrien pressed his palms together.

Ladybug pursed her lips and nodded. “Okay. But only because I might need your help again.”

She wrapped an arm around his waist and tossed her yoyo, pulling them off with a tug of the string. Adrien clung tightly to her as they swung between buildings, not just out of fear of falling. The scent of her perfume was intoxicating, and Adrien could have smelled her all day.

He squeezed his eyes shut to clear his head. There wasn’t time to think about that right now. Max needed to be saved, so he’d have to flirt later.  He could just make out Max’s robot at their peak above the buildings, but Ladybug stayed a safe distance away.

“Looks like he’s headed for the stadium,” she said.

Adrien eyed his house as they swung over it, biting back a frown. His father would want him to sabotage Ladybug, but their mission would have to wait. If Adrien really hurt Max’s feelings, he wanted to set things right. Besides, maybe this would teach his father to send a text before making the next akuma that had it out for Adrien.

They touched down at the stadium at the same time as Max’s robot, and Ladybug took a defensive stance in front of Adrien, spinning her yoyo.

“That’s enough, Max. This isn’t going to solve your problem, so give up your akuma and let me bring back all of those people,” she called.

“Why would I want to give up this?” He cackled. “Gamer has access to powers Max could only dream of! No one will ever beat me again.”

“Max, I’m sorry! I didn’t know how important this competition was to you. If you want, I’ll forfeit my spot for you,” Adrien said.

“Winning by forfeit is still losing! The only way to redeem myself is by crushing you!” Gamer raised a giant foot.

Ladybug scooped Adrien up and leapt out of the way, pursing her lips when they landed.

“You want revenge on this boy, right?” She gestured to Adrien. “I think I know the perfect way, but we’re going to need to even the playing field.”

“What do you propose, Ladybug?” Gamer asked.

“Yeah, Ladybug, what exactly are you proposing?” Adrien quirked a brow.

“Do you trust me?” Ladybug met his gaze, those brilliant blue eyes blazing with confidence. God she was beautiful.

“Of course.” He nodded.

She turned back to Gamer and strapped her yoyo to her waist. “I propose a duel. If we win, you give up your akuma. If you win, I’ll let you have Adrien and my Miraculous.”

Gamer’s robot crossed its arms. The eye in the center glowed green again, but this time it shot a beam to the center of the field where a glowing red orb appeared.

“Very well. I accept,” Gamer said.

Adrien followed Ladybug to center field. She touched her palm to the orb, stepping back as it transformed into a giant ladybug mech to rival Gamer. Ladybug picked him up again, leaping to the top of the suit where a round hole opened in the shoulders. They jumped down into the main control center for the robot where two chairs waited.

“Whoa!” Adrien grinned, hopping into what appeared to be the steering. “I’ll drive.”

“Absolutely not, you man the guns.” Ladybug ordered.

“Look, I beat Max once already, and I can do it again.” Adrien pressed buttons and adjusted the thrust.

Ladybug sat in the weapons control seat with a grumble as their robot took awkward hobbling steps. Gamer charged forward, sending their mech flying across the field with a single punch, and Adrien and Ladybug toppled over each other as their suit rolled to the ground.

“Never mind, you can drive.” Adrien rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head with a wince.

Ladybug climbed into the control seat, righting their robot as Adrien crawled over to the guns. Her steering was much more controlled than his, as if she needed any more qualities for Adrien to admire.  

“Round two, Gamer!”

They took turns exchanging shots, Adrien launching their projectiles on Ladybug’s signals.

“Wow, you’re pretty good at this,” Adrien said.

“You’re not the only one with hobbies.” Ladybug pushed the thrusters forward, rearing back into a punch that sent Gamer’s pyramid head flying across the field while his mech scrambled to keep up.

“Wait, you play Ultimate Mecha Strike?” Adrien spun his chair around.

“Duh, now focus!” Ladybug snapped as Gamer charged back in. “Forcefield!”

She really was his dream girl.

“On it!” Adrien pressed the buttons just in time to summon their shield before Gamer’s missiles landed.

Gamer jumped into the air, one of its spindly arms morphing into a drill as it crashed back down. Ladybug brandished their defenses, but Gamer’s attack was too powerful to resist for long. The drill broke through their shield, driving them back. Red lights flashed on Adrien’s screen, showing the damage to their wrist.

“He’s too strong! How are we going to defeat him?” Adrien turned to Ladybug who pursed her lips.

“With a little luck.” She grabbed her yoyo and summoned her Lucky Charm. The last resort.

“Is that-”

“Spray paint?” Ladybug turned the can over in her hands. She glanced around their suit and out the window at Gamer, drumming her fingers. “I’ve got an idea, but I need you to cover me.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Adrien called as she climbed out.

He jumped up to take the controls, managing to block a strike from Gamer. He locked hands with Gamer’s mech, planting the feet into a secure stance while Ladybug swung across the gap. Tapping the screen, he zoomed in as she landed on Gamer’s shoulders, using the spray paint to cover Gamer’s eyepiece. She hooked her yoyo around the tip of the pyramid and hung from the top. When Gamer poked his head out of the window, she snatched his glasses and snapped them in half, revealing the black butterfly inside.

Adrien leaned against his fist with a smile as she captured the akuma and used her Miraculous Ladybug to repair the city. Magical ladybugs swarmed around him, and with a blink, he was safely on the ground.

Black clouds washed over Max as he sat up, blinking in confusion. “Wha- Where am I?”

“Nice work, m’ladybug.” Adrien bowed.

Ladybug’s earrings beeped, and she unhooked her yoyo from her waist.

“Thanks for your help again,” she said.

Adrien shrugged. “I couldn’t leave Max like that. It’s clear that the competition was really important to him.”

Ladybug looked him up and down with a smile, then tossed her yoyo toward the roof. As she shot off, Adrien approached Max and offered him a hand.

“Adrien?” He titled his head to the side but accepted the help to his feet. “What happened?”

“You were akumatized by Hawkmoth.” Adrien lowered his gaze to his shoes. “It was my fault. I didn’t realize that the competition was so important to you. I only tried out because it seemed fun, but you worked really hard for it.”

Max adjusted his glasses and shifted his weight. “You beat me fair and square, Adrien. You earned your spot on the team. I shouldn’t have been such a sore loser.”

“Max, you weren’t-”

“It’s okay.” Max turned to him, holding up reassuring hands. “Really, I’m fine. I know you’ll represent the school well in the tournament. Besides, now I have a new goal to work toward. Next time we face off in Ultimate Mecha Strike, don’t expect to beat me so easily.”

He extended a fist, and Adrien bumped it with his own, his lips curling into a smile.

“If it’s not asking too much, could I come over and practice with you? I think it would work out better than practicing with Marinette,” Adrien said. “And maybe we can give each other tips.”

“I’d like that. I can even show you the game I’ve been developing,” Max said.

He lead the way out of the stadium, regaling Adrien with his game ideas. As it turned out, Max was way smarter about games than Adrien could ever dream to be. Even if Adrien managed to beat him during the tryout, Max deserved a spot in the competition, so the next day, Adrien forfeited his place with M. Damocles. It was for the best. Marinette and Max would make a much better team, and she didn’t totally hate Max’s guts. Adrien was starting to accept that they’d never be friends, and that was okay. If he’d learned anything going to his new school, it was that not everyone was meant to get along. Chloe and Marinette were proof of that.

Thunder grumbled overhead as Adrien made his way across the courtyard toward the locker room. Good thing Nathalie sent him with an umbrella. He retrieved his books from his locker and set out toward the front doors as the first droplets dripped on the concrete. By the time he made it to the porch, the downpour had begun, hissing through the air in sheets.

A flash of pink shifted in the corner of his eye. Marinette shied away from him when he turned around, shrinking under the overhang to avoid getting wet. Her blue eyes refused to meet his, so he opened his umbrella with a sigh. Despite knowing that she’d never like him, Adrien’s stomach still twinged with guilt. The rift between them was caused by a misunderstanding in the beginning, and although he wouldn’t be getting rid of Chloe any time soon, part of him still hoped there was a way to cross the gap between him and Marinette.

Clutching the handle of his umbrella, he squared his shoulders and turned to her.

“I’ve never had friends before,” he said. “Growing up, my father insisted I stay home all the time. I wasn’t allowed outside, and the only reason I got to hang out with Chloe is because our parents were old friends. She’s all I’ve ever had.” His shoulders slumped. “In my life, you take whatever you can get. That’s why I was so happy when Nino wanted to throw me a party because my own father didn’t even celebrate my birthday.”

Marinette glanced up at him, those blue eyes wide and uncertain.

He lowered his gaze to his shoes, kicking at the wet pavement. “I just want a normal life. I want to go to school and make friends, like everyone else… But you probably don’t care about all of that.” He wiped a tear from his eye before it spilled over. “I pulled out of the competition. You and Max will make a great team. I promise not to bother you anymore.”

He held out his umbrella, an offering of peace and a promise. Thunder clapped overhead, and Marinette jumped, long eyelashes fluttering with each blink. She reached hesitantly for his umbrella, the brush of her hand soft against his own as it passed between them.

His bodyguard rolled up to the curb, and bracing himself, he stepped out into the rain. The droplets were cold on his skin, but the tightness in his chest had finally loosened its grip. He still wasn’t good at the whole friend thing, and maybe he never would be. But that was fine too. It made him grateful for the few friends he did have.

Bright blue wrapping paper greeted him when he opened his locker the next day, and he quirked a curious brow as he peeled away the ribbon. Inside was a blue, hand-knit scarf and a note written on pink paper.

I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted lately. I was judging you for the person I thought you were rather than the person you are. Happy late Birthday! I stayed up all night making this.

                                                                                                              Love,

                                                                                                           -Marinette

Adrien ran his fingers over the soft yarn, a smile curling on his lips. Maybe he was getting better at this whole friend thing after all. Looping the scarf around his neck, he burrowed down into its warmth and took a deep breath. It had taken longer than he originally thought, but things were starting to look up for him. The life he always wanted was finally at his fingertips, and Adrien was already reaching.

[fivelakesinwriting]

Us Versus. Them (Rafe Cameron)

Author's Notes: This was an idea that was floating around in my head for a while, so I decided to write it. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment, I'm pending writing a second chapter - and please proceed with some caution, not an ideal relationship depicted. Thank you xoxo

Warnings: CANON RAFE. OBX 2 SPOILERS. Swearing, Violence,

Requested? Nope. Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

The air on the Coastal Venture was crisp, the mist in his face was refreshing after all that time feeling cooped up on that island. He pressed the pad of his thumb to the flat of his ring and twisted it as he took one more deep breath then turned on his heel. He walked quickly down the narrow halls and to the small room where they were staying, tossing a quick glare at the room his sister was currently sleeping in.

"Hey. You up?" He grumbled as he opened their door and walked into their small cabin. He looked at the woman just sitting in up in bed, her hands pushing through her hair.

"Yeah. Just woke up." She whispered as she pressed up on her knees and crawled to the edge of the bed. She pushed some hair out of his eyes then ran her fingertips over his cheekbones.

"I'm going to go check on the Cross. I feel anxious. Get dressed. She'll be awake soon." Rafe muttered as he pressed his right hand to the small of her back, bringing her close as he kissed the side of her face.

"I'll come with you." She replied quickly getting out of bed and grabbing her discarded jeans from the floor, pulling them up her legs. She grabbed her dark jacket from the back of a nearby chair and followed him out of the room to see the treasure.

Down, down they went. Below all the hustle of the busy workers above. Rafe reached for her hand as he reached the level the Cross rested on. He helped her down the metal steps, then led her towards the box. He crouched down beside the box and lifted the top gently, sliding it away to reveal the golden Cross.

"There She is." Rafe mumbled as he pulled the blankets wrapping the Cross up for safety to show his girl their treasure.

"It's beautiful. Might be the most beautiful thing on this ship." She smiled as she crouched down beside him, her fingertips running over the delicate jewels encrusting the Cross.

"Second." Rafe replied as his eyes quickly looked over at her, then down at the Cross before he covered it back up. He looked over at her again, thankful for every sacrifice she had made to help him get to that point.

"Thank you. I couldn't have done this without you. When this is over, I'm going to make you a Cameron. A real one." Rafe smiled as he reached out to place his palm gently on her cheek.

She smiled over at him, her blush warming his hand as she leaned over to kiss his lips. Rafe sighed contently through his nostrils and thumbed at her cheekbone. It felt like he had not been able to simply be with his girlfriend in so long.

"C'mon. We should get back upstairs." Rafe mumbled, his forehead pressed to hers. He stood up once more, taking her hand and pulling her upright to lead her back up the stairs where his family was waiting for them.

The door to the State Room was closed and locked, the way his father had intended. Rafe pulled out his key, smoothed his fingers over the teeth and gently placed it into the knob. As he unlocked the door and opened it slowly his sister came running from her spot from the cracked leather seat by the window, laying a firm punch to his broad chest.

"You knew! You helped him, and you knew! Fuck you, Rafe!" Sarah screamed as she punched his chest, one right after the other. Rafe stood in place, his eyes out the window at the passing ocean as he took each meager punch from his little sister.

"He asked me for my help." Rafe glared as he grabbed her wrists and pushed them towards her own chest.

"You're insane. The both of you. You and dad, you've lost your minds." Sarah cried as she ran her shaky fingers through her hair.

"We're aligned on a common goal, Sarah. And maybe...just fucking maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your Pogue shit you would understand that. This? All of this is for our family." Rafe growled his eyes narrowed at his sister as his hands gestured to his heart. His family. His heart.

"And her?" Sarah asked with a deep inhale as she looked from her brother's feverish eyes to the girl standing behind him, arms over her chest.

"Her? She's my family." Rafe grinned with a raised eyebrow. He looked behind him to his girl who looked his sister up then down, her lips pursed.

"Elise. Heard a lot about you, Sarah Cameron." The girl behind Rafe stated, taking a step forward to stand beside him.

"Wish I could say the same." Sarah glared as she sat back down, her legs feeling like they may give out beneath her any second.

"You're right, baby. She's not very nice." Elise mumbled as she looked up at Rafe.

Rafe breathed out a laugh as he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. He gave her backside a soft pat as he looked down into her eyes.

"Go check with the Captain, see how far away we are. I'll be right up. Take your knife with you, too." Rafe muttered as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips, pulling her switchblade out of her back pocket to press it to the palm of her hand.

She nodded with a soft smile, happy he was always looking out for her even though she could handle herself. She turned on her heel, tossing Sarah Cameron a wink before she shut the door behind her and walked quickly down the halls towards the Captains deck. She clicked the latch of her switchblade, opening it, and dragged it along the old walls of the boat leaving an indent.

"What's the timeline?" She asked as she walked up to the top of the boat with the Captain, who flinched upon sight of the small woman. Something she never tired of seeing.

"Few hours, I think. As long as the weather holds." The Captain nodded, his eyes fixed forward and away from the girl that wielded the small switchblade at her side, the tip of the blade pressed into her thigh.

"Good. Make it happen." She replied as she turned to exit the small room, only to run into the strong chest of a man she didn't know. He smelled of dirt, sweat and ocean water.

"Arms length. You know the rules." She spat as she pressed the tip of her blade into the chest of the person who dared come close to her.

"Sorry." He mumbled, his head low and face covered by a mess of curls as he tried to hurry passed her below deck.

"Wait. You aren't part of the crew, are you?" Elise asked, knife extended towards the boy. He looked up at her, pushing his hair out of his eyes and her heart began to race as she recognized him.

Routledge.

"Summer program." John B stuttered as he backed down the steps from the top level of the boat, eyes darting around for something to use as a weapon to evade the girl.

"Get the fuck back here, Routledge! How did you get on this boat!" Elise cried as she took off with a sprint after him, scrambling down the steps.

"Oh, my God. She's fucking fast." John B mumbled as he hopped over tipped over barrels and scattered coils of rope to get to his destination.

A door on the opposite side of the ship that led to a hallway, where he was certain Sarah was being kept in one of the many rooms. He just had to find that room. He tripped over a coil of rope, but caught himself on the frame of a door, jiggling the handle to let himself in. He let out a heavy breath as he slammed the door behind him and ran through the narrow halls, screaming her name.

"Sarah!" He slammed his fist on each door his passed in the hopes her beautiful face, and that long golden hair would pop out.

She never did.

So John B kept running. He kept running and he kept yelling in the hopes that she would hear him. But the small girl with the knife wasn't far behind him.

"Rafe!" Elise yelled as she ran through the hallways, John B evading her quickly as he made a quick left turn.

Rafe perked up at the sound of his name, but his heart began to race as the tone of her voice. It didn't sound good. He had simply sent her off to get an arrival window so they could get off this boat and safely house the Cross. He clenched his fist as he stood up from his spot in an old chair in the State Room and walked quickly to the door, tossing a glare back at his sister.

"Stay here." Rafe growled at Sarah as he unlocked the door and stalked out to the hallway, locking the door behind him once more.

Rafe spotted his love in the hallway looking frantic, and that wasn't a headspace she was usually in. She was calm, collected. She was his rock most of the time and he didn't like the look on her face as he checked the lock behind him.

"Pogues are here."

Hotties:

@starkey-babie @sodasback @barrysjumpsuit @fashion-fasting

@beauvibaby @professional-busboy @soph0864

@maybankslut

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo (next chapter would have...a lot of violence, it's just a matter of writing that out, finding that angle)

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[officialscaramouche]

Hanahaki — a gift for @ambers-glider

Pairing: Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

Summary: Scaramouche caught a love sickness that could only be cured by mutual love.

AN: please read @ambers-glider ‘s part one and two before reading this so that it makes sense :)

Warnings: language

Word count: 1,691

Scaramouche felt bad for you. It was by pure coincidence that he saw you when you caught sight of Victor and his girlfriend. He saw the way your face dropped when she clung to his arm and he sympathized for you. But it was your fault anyway. Everyone knew Victor had a girlfriend, but since you were always cooped up in your office I guess it couldn’t be helped.

Noticing the way your personality had changed, Scaramouche actually kind of liked it. You weren’t annoyingly upbeat and overly friendly like before, so he found himself visiting your office more. He enjoyed the silence the two of you shared, even if he wasn’t always welcomed.

Childe would unfortunately come in every now and then to check in on you especially after finding out that Scaramouche often hung out in your office. And when he did, the two of you would talk briefly about mindless things. Scaramouche didn’t understand why it mattered to talk about stupid things like the weather, or what you were having for lunch.

Scaramouche walked into your room a little more forcefully than normal. At first he didn’t say anything, especially after you told him you wanted to be alone. But after sitting on the couch there for a while, reading the book he brought to work, he broke the silence. “What are your plans for today?” He asked casually, not taking his eyes off his book.

You looked at him incredulously. Was he seriously trying to have small talk with you? “...Nothing. After work, I have to do laundry.”

It was silent once more, this time a bit more awkward than it usually was. He shut his book and hummed, standing to stare at you from the other side of your desk. “Would you like to join me at Third Round Knockout?”

You leaned back in your chair to look up at him closely. What was his deal? What point does he want to make with bothering you for lunch? At least he asked you now, after getting over your sickness, rather than before when you would’ve jumped at the idea. You couldn’t deny your curiosity, however. “Are you paying?”

Scaramouche scowled. “I guess I am.”

It was weird sitting at an intimately small table with your boss. But it also had been a while since anyone had taken you out. Scaramouche didn’t eat out much, but it was your favorite restaurant. He asked for your opinion on some foods, but once the waiter took your orders, it was challenging to find something to talk about. You stared out a window until he finally broke the silence. “It’s good that you’re feeling better,” he said plainly.

“Thanks, I guess,” you responded curtly.

The both of you decided that instead of forcing conversation, you’d just sit in uncomfortable silence. After a while, Scaramouche coughed awkwardly into a fist and excused himself from the table. On the way there, the itch in his throat began to grow itchier and itchier until he slammed the bathroom door open and hung his head over the sink, his fingers grasping desperately at the edges. He scratched at his throat as he continued to hack, tears beginning to well in his eyes as he struggled to find relief in his coughs. Finally, whatever was caught in his throat came up and he spat it into the sink, the purple petal coated in his saliva falling helplessly before him. “You’ve gotta be fucking with me— ackh!” His cough grew more and more persistent as petals came spilling from his lips. He slapped his hands onto his cheeks and screamed. “What the fuck!!”

His shout was heard by the entire restaurant. People looked around nervously, some of them at you remembering that he was with you. You laughed in embarrassment, tentatively walking to the bathrooms to make sure he was okay.

A couple of men scrambled out of the restroom as you approached, making side comments about Scaramouche. “What the hell is his problem?” One of them mutters.

You knock before entering, announcing yourself as you push the door open. “Sir, it’s me, are you okay?”

He stared at himself in the mirror, hunched over the sink, with spit dribbling down his chin. “Get out.” He spits, a couple of weak coughs puffing out of his cheeks.

“Oh,” you breathe, noticing the sink full of petals. “Oh, sir I’m sorry,” you walk over to him and begin washing the petals down the sink. “We need to get you looked at quickly!”

“No!” He shoved you away, hating to admit that his heart was pounding when your hands held his shoulders. “I don’t want to be fucking operated on!”

“It’s okay!” You reassure, pulling him up from the sink. “The reason why...I was so upset about Victor is because he made me fall in love with him. To get over someone else…” Scaramouche closed his eyes to focus on curving the coughs. ...And to listen to your voice. “I know I’m not the best to look at, but I can try to help.”

Scaramouche couldn’t help but to smile at your innocence. How were you going to help? You were the problem! “...You’re right you’re not attractive at all.” You furrowed your brows and put your hands to your hips. He laughed at your expression. “Fine. You can try to help me.”

He was setting himself up for failure, he knew that. But seeing you try so hard to figure out the type of person he liked was amusing to him. One day you were doting, cooking for him and making sure he drank water. But then the next you were neglectful, thinking that maybe he didn’t like someone who doted on him. You tried being clingy, you tried playing hard to get. You tried cleaning his house, you tried making it filthy. Nothing seemed to be working since he coughed up more and more petals everyday, but as he lay there feeling the life drain out of him with every cough, he seemed to feel pretty happy in his final days.

Soon enough, he was too weak to even open his eyes. You tucked the blanket snugly around him and exchanged the cool towel on his forehead. “Please let me tell Childe,” you whispered.

He scowled, amazingly mustering enough energy to do so, and coughed. “No,” he said weakly. “I don’t want— ackh— anyone to cut me open.”

“I’ll cut you open myself!” You joked, pulling at the shirt he wore.

“I’d let you,” he smiled. He figured that if he was to die today, he might as well tell you how he felt. “You’re so dumb, [Y/N]. But that’s what I like about you. You work so hard no matter what you’re doing. Whether it’s paperwork or watching over me...you give it your all.” You blinked at him, trying to process his words. “Maybe if I had been a little nicer to you...I wouldn’t be lying here dying. Maybe we’d actually have been in love.”

“What are you saying?” You ask dumbfoundedly, your hands shaking where they lay on the bed.

“These stupid petals, [Y/N], they’re for you.”

It took you a moment to understand what he was saying so clearly as day. The man you had nearly died for, now lay dying for you. You spent almost two months suffering because he had not cared about you and now he spent these last two months suffering. But you suffered alone. This time, Scaramouche was suffering with you right by his side.

“I...I don’t know what to say.” You said finally.

Scaramouche turned over to lay on his side, facing his back toward you. “That’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know, that way I would die without regret.”

“No, sir, you don’t understand.” You swallowed the lump in your throat to muster up the courage.

Scaramouche began to feel relief as he lay there. These are my last few minutes, he thought to himself. His body grew too weak to cough. At least, he figured, he’d die without coughing his lungs out.

You fiddle with your fingers and hyped yourself up to admit why you were sick in the first place. “Scaramouche...the reason I was sick...was because I loved you.”

Scaramouche was too weak to cough. So he should’ve been too weak to sit up. He sat up with such vigor, turning to look at you. He had been laying in bed for four days now, unable to sit up. Yet here he was, looking at you. The itch in his throat ceased. He didn’t stop coughing because he was weak. He stopped coughing because you returned his feelings.

Soon, the pink in his lips began to reappear. The color in his cheeks flushed, and his body aches seemingly disappeared. He tentatively reached forward, afraid that he had died and gone to celestia. This was a dream, this wasn’t real.

He cupped your cheek and caressed the skin there with his thumb. You held the hand on your face and leaned into the contact. All these months you had been suppressing your love for Scaramouche.

You didn’t want to be sick again. You forced your love onto Victor and latched on intensely so as to move on. But you didn’t know that while you were loving Victor, Scaramouche had been loving you. Watching you laugh and cling to Victor made him jealous. Jealous and possessive. When you recovered he wanted to spend as much time with you as he could. He wanted to learn more about you, talk to you, see the smile you used to give Victor. He wanted to see that smile and he wanted to make you his.

“You love me?” He asked barely over a whisper.

“I don't know why, but yes,” you joked with a laugh, a bright smile spread across your lips.

Scaramouche smiled too, albeit very little, but still a smile. The harbinger, and now your new boyfriend, promised himself that he’d protect that smile. Especially from Victor. “Good. You’re all mine.”

[fruitcoops]

hey! what do you think about some fluffy kissing? just kissing and being very in love, nothing more than that :)))

I love fluffy kissing!! This is part 1 of Loops’ birthday fics <3 Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Remus woke up to a warm, empty bed. He made a distressed noise, flopping one hand toward the other side of the bed in case Sirius was just out of reach, then sighed and opened his eyes, stretching his arms over his head. “Honey?” he called, his voice rough from sleep.

Something clinked downstairs and he grumbled, burying his head under Sirius’ pillow as he internally debated the merits of getting up and being cold vs staying in bed without cuddles. A cuddle-less existence wasn’t worth it when he could latch on to his personal space heater.

Sirius hummed under his breath as he cooked; Remus only waited long enough to see if there was an open flame or sharp object before clambering onto Sirius’ back with a huff. “You left.”

“Wh—um, happy birthday,” Sirius laughed, patting his shin gently. “I didn’t think you’d be awake for a while yet. Sleep well?”

“Mhmm.” Remus tucked his face into the crook of Sirius’ neck. “I did, until you stopped snuggling me.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” A kiss brushed against his cheek and Remus hummed happily. “Can you get down so I can take the scones out?”

Remus held on tighter and Sirius made a small oof sound. “Nope. Birthday privileges.”

“Can I put you on the counter for a second?” Sirius backed up until Remus could sit on the counter and scooted his knee out of the way to open the oven door—the scent of scones woke Remus up a bit more and he stretched again, watching the muscles of Sirius’ back move as he took the baking sheet out.

“Those look amazing.”

“I can stir milk and scone mix with the best of ‘em.” Sirius grinned and kissed him on the lips, sliding a stray curl behind his ear. “Happy birthday, mon loup.”

“This is the best present ever.” Remus wrapped his arms and legs around Sirius, pulling him even closer for more kisses. “I don’t want anything else, ever.”

“Are you sure? The guys might be a bit disappointed…”

A sudden thought struck Remus and he pulled back in alarm. “Are they here?”

“What? No! We’re having a party at Dumo’s later.”

“Oh, thank god,” Remus sighed, resting his forehead on Sirius’ collarbone. He dropped a few kisses to the hollow of his throat, then nosed his way up his jawline and breathed in the smell of sleep and scones. “I love you.”

“I love you too, birthday boy.” Sirius squished Remus’ cheeks until he laughed, then kissed it right out of his mouth. “And I love doing that.”

“I can tell. What time do we have to be at Dumo’s?”

“Well, people start arriving for the surprise at 5:30,” he said with a mischievous grin. “I think we should get there at five and act oblivious.”

Remus scrunched his nose up and grinned. “You’re so mean! Let’s do it.”

“Dumo would end me for that.” Sirius kissed him again, cradling the side of his jaw in one hand.

“We could do this for the next eight hours.”

“Our lips would be so chapped.”

Remus trailed his mouth over Sirius’ cheek, leaving tiny kisses in his wake before rubbing their cheeks together. Sirius must have shaved—he was smooth and soft against Remus’ skin as he pressed his lips to his earlobe. “Or we could go back to bed and do some proper birthday snuggles.”

“I’m a terrible fiancé, huh? ” Sirius teased. “I left you all alone on your birthday.”

“Awful,” Remus said around his smile. “Just the worst. Thankfully, I know a way you can make it up to me.”

Sirius lifted him off the counter with ease despite all the muscle he had gained over the past year. “Is that so?”

“It might be kinda difficult…”

“I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

Remus smiled and laced his fingers in Sirius’ soft hair, feeling his heartbeat as he traced a thumb down his neck. “Don’t stop kissing me for the rest of my life.”

Sirius’ smile was even brighter than the soft sunlight streaming through their windows. “I think I can manage that.”

[yandere-mha-blog]

Part 17: something for the dabi lovers

Once you lay in bed and tried to get some sleep, there was a knock on your door, just great who was it now? You looked through the hole and it was Dabi, really 8 hours ago he was telling you to forget about him.

“What do you want?” you said as you opened the door

“To say I'm sorry for being an asshole.” Dabi said “Look, can we please talk.”

“I won't slam the door on your face but you aren't coming in.” you said

“Fair, and I don't mean what I said about you forgetting me.” Dabi said “My ex has a way of getting me into my head and reminding me of how much i hate myself, she makes me think i really don’t deserve anything better in life.”

“...”

“You can relate can't you, i think you of all people know how they can make you feel.”

“I can.” You said, “But you have been distant since Keigo left.”

“And i'm sorry about that, it scared me okay, you seemed to good to be true, and knowing me i always mess up all my relationships, and they never last long and i didnt want that to happen with you, and i guess i just self sabotaged again like i always do, but when you left me today, i felt the worse i had ever felt in a while, i didn't want to hurt you, but i ended up doing just that.”

“I liked you Dabi, i really did, but you were cold to me, i mean you came into my life helped me and then just left and told me to forget about you, i can't handle the emotional roller coasters anymore.”

“It won't happen again.”

“I Hear that all the time Dabi, and it usually ends up happening again, you can't just show up all of a sudden after trying to ghost me then tell me to forget about you, only to come to my door and tell me it will be better.”

“I know, I'm bad, at touchy feely stuff, and being vulnerable, and I'm sorry, just one more chance and I will never make you feel like that again.”

“One more chance huh.” You said “well after all the bullshit you have been through makes sense you would come out with a couple of rough edges, but Dabi if i do give you one chance i mean it, one last chance that's it.”

“That's all I need.” Dabi said, and you undid the chain latch.

“Well I just made a bunch of unhealthy fried food. Do you want some?”

“That sounds great.” Dabi said

“So the cause of death is an overdose.” the paramedic said to the cop who was called to scene by a pedestrian who said, they saw her body limp on a park bench foam coming out her mouth, no reason to expect foul play, she had a record of mugging, drug dealing, assault and battery, maybe the pressure got to much to her and she decided to end it then go back to jail, was what the cops came to conclude.

“What happened over there?” you asked as you and Dabi were walking down the street

“Looks like a crime scene, let's keep moving.” Dabi said as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, Mina didn't understand how you can go from being heartbroken from a  guy to the two of you dating like an hour later. Still to make up for his blunder he agreed to go to a bookstore with you today, he hadn't really read anything since highschool when they forced him to write a book report, maybe burning down the gym was his unintentionally ay of getting back at them, you got one book, and decided to head down to a place to eat, it was a quick bus route away.

Keigo was in another city cooped up in his apartment, his pr team said it would be good for him to lay low for a while, well how long was a while, Dabi was more underhanded then he had thought, did you still think about him, what were you two doing, well he found you once he would find you again

“You know dabi I forgot to ask, but how old are you?”

“Oh 26.” He said

“Huh, you are a bit older than I thought.” you said as you took another bite of your food

“Well how old are you again?”

“OH I'm 21.” you said, okay, a bit of an age gap, you seem to be more mature than him, guess trauma will do that to a person, as you took a sip of your milkshake. “What did you wanna do after this?” “I'M not sure, there is a zoo nearby, I think they are cheaper during this time.”

“Oh fun, I haven't been to a zoo since I was a teen.” you said, Dabi paid the bill and the two of you headed to the zoo. You wanted to see the penguins as one dose, and maybe laugh a bit too hard when they bounced when they fell. They were fine, they were the shock absorbers of the animal world.

“Dabi was looking around the snake exhibit a bit more, found it funny when they yawned and their mouths unhinged, but you left when it was feeding time, the birds of prey exhibit was cool to look at but not really what you wanted to see. Still it was getting dark and Dabi took you back home, then once you arrived you saw a familiar figure waiting there for you

“MINA!” you yelled running up and hugging you “WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE COMING HERE TODAY!”

“I wanted to surprise you, still didn't think you would be out all day, and who is this.”

“Oh Mina, this is Dabi, my boyfriend.”

“Ah they guy i've heard about, well sorry to drop by unaccounted but it's been too long since i've seen my girl.” Mina said

“Hey no problem, ill text you later okay.” Dabi said and you nodded, and he left

“Did i cock block you just now?” MIna asked and you pinched her side

“Don't be crude, we just went on a nice date today.” You said and unlocked the door letting her in, you to had a lot of catching up to do.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone's Symphony | Day One | Persephone

Hey lovelies— so as per my usual shenanigans I've decided this will have no schedule and that I will play god to my own creation because what is life without some chaos? The pros are you might not have to wait a week between updates, the cons are you might have to wait a week between updates. In all seriousness, please enjoy my lovelies!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 3.1k

Previous | Next

Master List

She can’t hear what the man in the truck says to him— the walls of this house are surprisingly thick. She supposes that’s a good thing. It means she will be able to go about her days normally while cooped up here. Well, as normal as possible. She doubts she’ll be able to get away with her three am rom-com marathons and ice-cream binges. She doubts she’ll get away with screaming in her sleep— and in the shower and at the breakfast table and when doing any, little thing that makes her remember that her life is one, constant nightmare.

It’s only three days— all she has to do is stay awake for three days.

While his head— her body guard’s head— is turned she leans against the kitchen sink, inching back the white lace curtain for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s like a little game at this point. She peeks at him, his eyes snap to hers, and she squeals and drops the curtain. Thank god the walls are thick. It’s almost unnerving how tuned he is to every little movement— not almost, it is unnerving but she supposes that is what makes him a good fit for this job. A good fit for keeping her alive. Like she has been doing for months now, she ignores the way her chest squeezes painfully.

Through the little strip of window that she allows for herself, she traces over his features one last time. Cropped black hair, a square jaw, at least two days worth of stubble. He looks like a bodyguard— rough, dangerous, manly— and that’s before taking into account the sheer size of the man. She is on her tiptoes, one hand pushing against the stainless steel below her for dear life, and she still has to crane her neck to properly see his face. She refuses to let her eyes wander any further than that— she had already glimpsed at the rest of him when he had made the short walk from the truck to the house. She already knows he’s massive.

His eyebrow twitches and she drops the curtain— she may not be as fast as he is but she’s a quick learner. Had she held the curtain open longer she is sure his eyes would have flicked to hers again. Those are the rules of the game, after all. She hears a muted thumping and the door handle jiggle from across the room, spinning towards the faded farmhouse door. She watches as the door handle turns, her throat tight, wondering where all the air in the room went— it was there a second ago.

The door pushes open and she jumps away from the sink, only just realizing what it’ll look like if he comes inside to her still hunched over the window. Of course, he’s already seen her but that’s beside the point. Part of the game is not talking about the game. A boot comes into view— the black, military grade kind— and it hits her like a punch to the gut that this is real— there really is someone out there trying to kill her. Now she really can’t breath. She can only force her lungs to expand to draw in some oxygen before her bodyguard finds her sprawled in an unconscious heap on the ground.

The boot is quickly followed by a leg, which is then, by default, followed by a torso and a head. A head that turns and watches her freeze, red handed like a bandit, in the middle of the kitchen. Gods, she should have just kept leaning against the sink— this is worse! Her hands are up and everything, shot out in front of her like she’s about to jump him or something. Yes, her— the girl currently in a hoodie that pools around her legs, displaying her knobby knees and bad posture— about to jump him— the man who had to practically duck to get through the doorway. She could laugh. In fact, she almost wishes he would laugh at her. She wishes he would do anything but look at her with that blank expression and those ice blue eyes.

“Uhm—” she blinks, trying to think of something to say other than holy shit you’re a giant— which, for the record, is what she wants to say— “hi?”

Are you serious, y/n?

He tilts his head at her and she almost cries. Not the same fear ridden, heartbroken, panicky cries of late. More so the awkward, why the fuck would you say that to the man charged with keeping you alive brand of cries. The normal kind. She drops her hands to her sides, slipping them into the pouch of her hoodie and tangling her fingers together. She can only allow herself to display one embarrassing thing at a time.

The man stays silent for a moment, each second of which makes her cheeks flame hotter and hotter, before finally opening his mouth. “Hi.”

Her chest deflates— some of the heat subsiding. He copied her. Whether purposefully or mockingly it alleviates some of the stupidity she’s feeling. She takes a few steps backwards, her bare feet pittering rather loudly over the worn hardwood. Well, that didn’t last long— there’s that embarrassment again.

“I’m y/n,” she squeaks out— gods, is Mickey Mouse in the building? “I guess you already know that though, huh?”

It was a stroke of genius putting her hands in her pocket— at least now he can’t see the way they shake furiously. She has to resist smashing her head against the sink. Nothing about this situation is optimal, to say the very least. Here she is making small talk with a man who could tear her in half. Her eyes drift to where his red henley pulls taut around his biceps— are they bigger than her head?

“James—” her eyes flick back up, face hotter than the sun, both from her blatant staring and the deep gravel of his voice— “but most people call me Bucky.”

Her eyes widen. She doesn’t know why, probably because she’s an idiot or because she isn’t expecting him to say more than three words. He seems like the strong, silent type. Maybe that is just the rom-coms though. Maybe her brain is just mush now.

“Okay,” she all but whispers, backing further into the sink. His piercing eyes have yet to leave her— something which makes her knees knock together and fingers clench. “Which should I call you?”

He tenses, his dark eyebrows pulling together, and she has to swallow the bile that rises in her throat. It’s day one and she’s already offending him. She pulls her lip between her teeth, biting down until the tangy, metallic taste that she has grown too familiar with these past months floods her mouth. She tells herself that she does it to keep from cursing. Lying to herself is another game she likes to play.

The longer he remains quiet, the more she regrets asking the question. His blue eyes are still latched on her, drifting over the space between her eyes and her busted lip, but somehow they also seem miles away. She can’t tell if he’s looking at her— seeing her— or if he’s seeing something else entirely. It isn’t until she pushes off the counter, taking a hesitant step forward, her foot slapping against the wood like it’s trying to embarrass her again, that he blinks. She pulls one of her hands from the puddle that is her hoodie, sliding it over her hair. Can he see the way it shakes?

Probably.

“Nevermind, forget I asked. It was a dumb ques—”

“Bucky,” the word is rushed out, falling over her own stuttered babbling. He slows after that, his face remaining stoic but his cheeks dusting with the slightest hint of pink. “Call me Bucky.”

She doesn’t point it out— she doesn’t have a death wish. Her being here right now, standing across from a literal giant, barefoot and shaking, is proof enough of that. Instead she nods gently, lowering her hand slowly. He’s not going to attack her— he isn’t a wolf— but still she takes the precaution. Better safe than sorry.

“Bucky it is then.”

He nods stiffly and she pretends like it doesn’t make her hands shake harder. She waits for him to speak, eyes drifting over the blue cupboards and the breakfast nook, taking in the applications of the home and trying not to scream. She feels so out of place, not used to the warmth in the room— the lingering smell of yeast and the flowers in the vase on the table. She used to bake all the time. Now she can barely bring herself to microwave frozen dinners. The sun that filters through the crack in the curtains and lands against her cheek feels like pure fire. She spends her days in the dark— she wouldn’t be surprised if she was allergic to the sun itself now. Allergic to all the things she used to enjoy.

The silence is too much— she has to speak to keep her throat from closing. If she doesn’t then it may not open again.

“So—” she draws the word out, her eyes flopping to the floor where her toe scuffs against a particularly worn board— “we just kinda follow each other around then?”

His face doesn’t change, his lips remaining in the same, expressionless line— a master of one trade. “Pretty much. I follow you.”

“And make sure I don’t die.” She fills the rest in— there’s no point not to. He’s definitely seen the pictures.

Finally his expression shifts, his lips pressing together tersely. It’s an answer in it’s own right— he pities her. He shifts his weight between his feet, the floorboards creaking below him. It could just be her but the sound slices through the room— loud and unforgiving— and she can’t stop the way she flinches. He freezes, obviously noticing her reaction. She almost slaps herself. Leave it to her to make an already tense situation worse. Is it going to be this awkward the entire time?

“You’re not going to die.” His voice is softer than his boots, barely reaching her ears as it cuts through the rigid atmosphere.

She doesn’t know what to say— how do she tell her bodyguard that she doesn’t believe him? He’s supposed to be the one saving her life. It feels risky to suggest that he wouldn’t be able to do that. Like telling the universe that she wants to die. She doesn’t want to die. It’s just hard not to think about death when it follows her everywhere she goes. For twenty-four years she was just y/n. Now look at her.

The queen of death.

She doesn’t know what to say so instead she changes the subject.

“Are you hungry?”

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

She makes grilled cheese for lunch. It is nothing special but the smell of the butter alone makes the energy she has to scrape together to make them worth it. She can’t remember the last time she cooked like this— the last time she tasted anything but freezer burnt macaroni and lumpy gravy. A couple times she almost drops the spatula, her fingers not used to having to be so coordinated, but the promise of melted cheddar has her fighting through the tremors. That and the audience of one, standing next to her with his arms crossed like he’s judging her culinary skills rather than looking for snipers.

It’s all in her head. That’s what she tells herself at least.

“You want extra cheese?”

She can feel Bucky’s eyes on the side of her face— is there something on her cheek? “Sure.”

It’s all in her head.

She flips the sandwiches, watching as the fluffy white bread is replaced with a perfect, golden brown toast. Her stomach growls, the sound somehow louder than the sizzling pan in her hand. The scream bubbles in her throat again— fuck. Why must everything she does be so humiliating? Why can’t she just keep it together for three days!

“Bacon?” Cue the voice crack.

“Bacon?” He repeats the word back like he hasn’t the faintest clue what a pig is— like somehow he’s a giant of a man but has never touched a piece of meat in his entire life.

Like it’s the dumbest question he has ever been asked. She swallows— hard— her cheeks pooling with heat again. She’s starting to wonder if it ever even left. If he asks she’ll blame it on the steam rising off the pan or her hoodie or both. But he won’t ask— he won’t speak until he has to. It did not take her long to gather that fact.

“You’ve never had bacon on grilled cheese?” It feels like he’s glaring at her.

It’s all in her damn head.

The floorboards groan underneath Bucky again and instead of flinching this time she tries to imagine what they might be saying. Save me, he’s crushing me! She flicks her eyes down, glancing at those military grade boots and then at her own toes, tiny and feeble compared to the size of his gear. One wrong step and her foot would likely be broken. She isn’t too worried about that though— he seems careful. His movements thus far have been slow and calculated, skirting around her and leaving at least a few feet between them at all times. Maybe that isn’t to keep from stepping on her though— maybe he just doesn’t like her. She wouldn’t blame him.

“You say it like that’s unheard of.” He doesn’t say it angrily but there’s no exuberance in his voice either— just the monotone she’s come to expect. It’s been one hour and she can already see how the next seventy-one are going to play out.

“Where I’m from it is.”

There’s a pause— the sound of butter crackling against the pan and of the steady picking up of rain against the kitchen window as it eats away at the sunshine— and she’s expecting the conversation to drop there. He isn’t there to entertain her, after all. That’s what the TV is for— what Leonardo DiCaprio is for.

But then there’s an answer. “Where are you from?”

The corner of her mouth lifts— an action so foreign she can practically see the dust shedding from her rusty smile— and she turns from the frypan long enough to meet his icy eyes and to throw out an arm, putting the front of her hoodie on display for the stoic man.

“SoCal.”

Her mouth lifts higher when Bucky raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly. He could be mocking her but she chooses to believe he’s interested. She chooses to believe that they are making progress and that she won’t have to spend three days talking to the walls. She turns back to the sandwiches, flipping them for the last time before laying down a few strips of bacon next to them.

She isn’t expecting him to keep going but she also isn’t complaining when his voice tickles her ears again. “Caltech, huh? S’that Pasadena?”

She tries to keep her smile from morphing into a full blown grin— she isn’t sure if her poor lips would be able to handle it. It’s been too long since she last used her mouth this much; both for smiling and talking. “Yes sir— born and raised.”

He hums and she watches from the corner of her eye as he leans to the window, peering out of it for a moment. There’s no one out there— at least she strongly doubts there is. This place is in the middle of nowhere. She hasn’t even heard a car since the truck that dropped Bucky off drove away. It’s supposed to be peaceful. She doesn’t see it. All she sees is the dreadful but necessary silence— at least hopefully that way they’ll hear someone coming.

“How about you? Where are you from—” she flips the bacon, pushing it around the pan, her mouth watering at the thought of the greasy, gooey goodness she’s about to consume— “You mind finding some plates?”

She hears him rummage through the cupboard above his head— well, above her head, in front of his— before two mismatched pieces of dishware appear before her nose. Grabbing them, she lets the corners of her lips tick up just the tiniest bit further.

“Indiana— but spent most of my time in Brooklyn.”

“It shows.” She muses, not turning to see whether or not he appreciates the comment.

It’s true regardless— she can hear some of the mannerisms of New York in his voice. Not many. He hasn’t said enough for her to truly gauge just how strong his accent is. Still it’s there, in the gruffness of his tone, just like she’s sure the SoCal shines through in her. At least it normally does— lately she hasn’t exactly been the picture of sunshine.

She removes the sandwiches from the pan, layering them carefully onto the plates. After staring at them for a moment she settles on the one that she wants, handing Bucky the bigger of the two. It’s only fair— he could probably eat at least four. She watches as the giant gives it a glance, rolling her eyes when he hesitantly lifts it to his lips, taking the smallest of bites. Is he afraid of a sandwich?

“I promise I’m not trying to poison you— I need you to stay alive, remember?”

He only grunts.

She has to turn away when he takes a bigger bite, her eyes refusing to detach themselves from his lips. Unprofessional and inappropriate. The orphan and the bodyguard. She takes a bite of her own sandwich, shoving the thought to the back of her mind and replacing it with the heavenly taste of gooey cheese, melted butter, and greasy bacon. She doesn’t have to dissect the thoughts of her delicious food like she would have to the other ones. Cheese doesn’t require a checklist about whether or not her grief quota is up to code. Clearly it’s not— clearly she’s just sick in the head. She takes another bite.

The two eat in silence for a couple minutes, the tension in the room melting for the first time since she introduced herself. Thank gods for cheese.

After a few more moments Bucky sets his plate down, turning back to the window. At first she thinks she is hearing things— like her mind is now also playing tricks on her as well as making her feel like a terrible person— but then it registers and she has to fight back another inappropriate smile.

“You were right about the bacon.”

Maybe three days won’t be so bad.

____________

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