#You can say this is after she becomes his handler if you want

[barrysbaby]

i can't go on like this. / will being emo as usual

PROMPTS FOR DEEP CONVERSATIONS

“Okay,” Moira says with a shrug of her shoulders. “So don’t. Go on a different way. Make a change. Back up. Take a left turn instead of right this time.”

It may sound like she’s joking, but she isn’t. Will can sit here and mope about how awful everything is, how unfair and difficult (and he would be correct on all accounts), or he can do something about it. Or, better yet, he can mope and do something about it.

“You’re not stuck,” she says. “And even if you were, screw it. Unstuck yourself. So what if you tear a few limbs in the process? At least you can regrow them.” Then, in a much softer tone, she adds, “you’re not alone. You have Sherry… and you have me.”

@gviral

[coryosbaby]

—Envy

synopsis: your jealousy gets the best of you.

♡ content warning . Mentions of murder, possessiveness, oral, cum play, plinth! reader

“I want to know why you did it.”

Your boyfriend’s voice rings out through your shared room in the capital, an octave lower and in a teasing lilt— maybe not a tone that a normal person who’s discussing murder should have, but nothing about your or Coriolanus’ relationship can be defined as normal.

You know the answer to Coriolanus’ question, though you don’t want to say it. A pout glazes your plump glossed lips as you think back to the scene that has started this conversation.

—

You remember Clemensia’s stupid ponytail, her stupid face, and the way her stupid sharp nails dug into Coriolanus’ shoulder the day before. She was asking to be in that room with you the next day— literally.

It was a class project. One that was for advanced students only, a one-by-one sort of assignment. You were Dr. Gaul’s personal assistant, the youngest ever— although, partner seemed to describe your dynamic with her better. You and Dr. Gaul went way back, and she trusted you.

You and Clemensia were in that brightly lit room you were oh so familiar with. Papers and folders were strewn around a desk nearby— and you and her were both alone. The body of snakes swimming throughout the small pool in the middle of the room had been enticing to stick your hand into. You remember Clemensia’s surprised look of awe as she watched you take one of the snakes trustfully into your grasp. It dripped water but it was beautiful. Its fangs scraped against you, almost teasing. It wanted to stick its teeth into your skin— you knew it did. But you trusted the snakes, and they trusted you. They would not be eating their handler anytime soon.

But maybe they would be eating something else.

Clemensia crouched in your same position; you were on your knees, gently rubbing your cheek against the snake’s rainbow scales. It whispered to you, lulling with soft hisses.

“Would you like to hold it?” You had asked her. “They enjoy a good petting every now and again.”

Clemensia had chuckled nervously, and you could tell by her body language that she was on edge.

“Don’t be silly, [y/n] plinth,” she had answered bleakly. “That snake would surely kill me.”

You remember turning to her. You could remember her brows furrowing, the softness of her skin. Coriolanus liked nice skin.

“I know.” You had said, and the rest was a blur.

A restling of limbs, your hands gripping tightly in her hair. There was splashing, gurgling, snakes crowding the surface. Her whole body had become submerged in that pool, and then you remembered that you had forgot to feed the snakes that day.

—

Thinking about it now, maybe you were a bit dramatic. Coriolanus has made his love for you very clear. There was no reason for such atrocities because of a girl he wasn’t even dating. But they had grown too close, and it had scared you.

Not to mention her excessive gossip about your fashion choices, which really pissed you off. Coriolanus shouldn’t have become friends with her, anyway.

“I told you,” You groan, watching him take a seat across from you. His shirt buttons are undone, just how you like them. “ I didn’t do it. She slipped.”

He doesn’t reply, and you groan.

“Why are you acting as if you didn’t do the same exact thing to that boy from economics class a few months ago, Coryo?”

“He was a complete dick, [y/n]. And a pervert. That was different.”

“I’m sure it was.”

Although Coriolanus should be disturbed, or quite possibly angered with you, he isn’t. You two tell too many secrets to judge. He doesn’t exactly have room to tell you who you should and shouldn’t kill with his past history.

And even so, the boy doesn’t have any room to care for Clemensia’s passing. She isn’t you, so it doesn’t matter.

After a moment of silence, Coriolanus sighs heavily. His thighs spread, and he leans back in his chair.

“But why…” he starts quietly, contemplating, as if this is funny guessing game. “Aren’t you going to tell me why?”

He knows the reason. He’s not stupid, and never has been. But he loves to tease.

“No.”

“Mmm…”

He turns his head to the side. His blonde curls have grown back, and for that you are incredibly grateful because they’re messy and make him look even more attractive. His eyes catch sight of a framed picture beside your bed— you and him, sitting at a shared desk in class. You were smiling at the camera, your favorite outfit on, and Coriolanus was only looking at you.

Smirking, Coriolanus lifts himself up from his chair. Your brows furrow in confusion as he approaches you, his tall form almost intimidating. His smell invades your senses as he leans over your shoulder to whisper into your ear.

“Was it jealousy?”

His tone is dark, flirtatious, and his breath is hot on the shell of your ear. Heat creeps up your neck— no matter how many times he speaks to you in this low tone of voice, it never fails to make your shiver.

You chuckle, your thighs squeezing together when his fingers grip tightly onto your shoulder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply. Your head turns to him, and he’s so close that you can feel his steady breathing. “Besides, I didn’t do it. Like I said— she slipped.”

“Liar.” He says punctually. His fingers grip your chin suddenly, and his grip is harsh. “You didn’t like me with her, did you?”

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, and Coriolanus’ fingers stroke your shoulder softly.

“Did you think she was pretty?” You ask. The boy chuckles, slowly pressing a wet kiss to your jugular that makes something electric zigzag its way through your body.

“No. The only woman who’s pretty to me is you.”

That makes you let out a small sound, and Coriolanus’ body moves to the front of your chair. He falls to his knees, then, the candlelight near the both of you making him look ever so beautiful. His fingers ghost over your skirt, and you whine, squirming in your seat. He pinches the hem, and lifts up the cotton fabric over your thighs. Cute pink panties are shown to him, and he lets out a groan.

“You’re so perfect.” He mutters. He leans in, his breath fanning over you, but he doesn’t get as close as you want. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Coryo,” you whine, bucking up your hips. “Please. Please eat my pussy.”

He looks up at you, his gaze dark and glazed over with lust.

“Kiss me.” He demands, and you have no choice but to obey. Your hands settle into his golden locks, pulling him up further on his knees so he can gain access to your plump, hot mouth. Your lips slot against his, and it isn’t long before his tongue is grazing the soft flesh. His teeth bite down, nibbling on your lips with ferocious hunger as his fingers dig crescent moons into your thighs. Pulling away, your hands rest on his shoulders. Coriolanus grabs one of them, pulling you so far down that your forehead touches his as he presses your palm against the bulge tight in his pants.

“Do you think Clemensia could make me feel this way, angel? Could make my cock so hard?” He says, and his breath is hot against your open mouth as he utters his next words. “I’m yours.”

You yank your hand away, pulling him into another hot and heated kiss. But not before he’s pulling himself away and sliding your panties down your legs, mouthing at your inner thighs again as your pussy is exposed to him. Coriolanus practically drools, spreading your thighs and shoving his tongue inside your tight, aching hole. His big hands wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth. He drinks up your slick with vigor, moaning against your clit as he devours you. Your mouth drops open, whimpers spilling out of you.

“Coryo,” you cry. His tongue moves from your hole to your clit, and he wraps his lips around the swollen bud as your hips buck up into his face.

He hums, savoring the taste of your nectar and grinding his hardened cock into the open air. He slurps into your cunt with everything he has and when you cum around him he drinks up your spend, too. His cock is still aching when he’s done and when he pulls away and wipes his pretty mouth on the back of his sleeve your gesture for him to stand up.

He smiles, watching as you grab his hips and pull them towards your face. You undo his belt, watching the straining fabric as your mouth waters. You pull out his hardened cock, the tip flushed red and dripping precum, and press a light kiss to the tip. Coriolanus shutters, letting out a tiny breath of air as he watches you press kiss upon lipstick stained kiss to his thick length. After a moment he grabs your hair and gently pulls you back from his cock.

“No,” he murmurs, when you try to put your mouth back on it again. “This is about me now, not you. Now open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

Brows furrowing while you try not to pout, you lean back and do as the man says. Your lashes flutter as you watch him tower over you, putting his legs on either side of the chair and holding himself up with one strong, muscle-ey arm. You let out a tiny whine in your throat as he holds his cock over your face and begins to stroke himself. You watch how swollen he is, how desperate he is to cum, the way his balls sit against his skin and look desperate to be emptied. He lets out small breathy moans as he rubs himself up and down, his head thrown back and his lip caught in between his teeth. What a beautiful sight.

He grunts when he looks down and sees drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth.

“Hungry for it, aren’t you?” He chastises. “I know. Poor little girl loves drinking up my cum. Don’t worry, baby, you’re gonna get some soon.”

Your head becomes fuzzy, your tongue reaching out to graze just a sliver of his cock. But he’s quick to use his length to slap your cheek, a warning growl sounding from his lips.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” He asks you. “Keep fucking still, and don’t touch me.”

You pout, your mouth closing in the process, and Coryo fumes. He grabs your chin, forcing your mouth back open grabbing your tongue with his fingers. He presses it down onto your teeth, and begins to furiously jack his cock.

“You never fucking listen.”

You want to smile but you know you can’t. When Coriolanus’ hips thrust particularly hard into the open air, you know he’s about to be close. You push out your tongue even more, watching his tip begin to spew white creamy cum onto your flushed face. He grunts, the sight of your fucked out body covered in the sticky substance making his cock kick one last time before he goes soft. You look up at him with heavy breaths, your mouth open as you lick your lips and taste him on you. His thumb brushes against a puddle of his spend, and he brings it up to your mouth.

“Now clean it up, brat.”

[brokenpieces-72]

Home for Holidays

Monster! 141 (mostly Soap) x Hybrid female Reader (jackalope/wendigo)

This is a continuation of the previous fanfic on my page. The only context you need it that the reader is teenager. Mentions @diejager reader character Hunter and is based on designs by @bluegiragi

CW/TW: Mentions of trauma, abuse, family trauma, punishment, origins of wendigo, crying, angst, let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Soon enough Holidays come around and there are no signs of your handler returning to base. Which means you’ll likely be alone on base on the holidays. It’s not the first time so that’s okay but you do get jealous when plans are brought up in conversation.

“So what’ll you be doin lass?” Johnny asks. His friendly face becomes a small frown when you shrug.

“Maybe I’ll just stay on base with Ghost…not sure what else there is. Nowhere to go really…” You say shrugging. Johnny’s brother side comes out in full swing, not just for you but for Simon as well. He knows Simon uses the holidays for his own needs, and doesn’t really stay on base the whole time. Leaving you behind didn’t feel fair to him. Not only that but it’s not fair to you, to have to sit in your room by yourself bored out of your mind.

Johnny makes some calls after that and soon learns there’ll be some paperwork but he doesn’t care. It’ll be worth it.

Nikolai comes to pick people up to take home, and Johnny has you already packed and it basically bouncing on your bed to get you to wake up.

“Come on wheels up lass!”

He’s carrying the duffel you had when you came and hands it to you.

“But-“ you’re half awake as you try to protest.

“No questions. Come on.” He says and you both get on the helicopter. Rudy and Alejandro say good bye to you before you leave and give you a gift to open on Christmas as does Gaz and Price. Ghost sees you off and you tell him you hope he enjoys the privacy.

Johnny takes you to his hometown, and when you land he explains that he made some calls home. And then to Laswell, and the program and few others to make sure everything was sorted.

“Ma didn wantya to be alone. Just know you’ll be put to work still…got dat?” You nod and he takes you to his house after you land, where you meet Soap’s mother and Soap’s older brother. His mother comments a bit on your appearance saying you look a little pale and could afford to put on a couple pounds. Soap gives her a look but you shake it off saying you have been. She gives you a warm smile and helps you find your room.

You have a good time on your leave and it feels a little odd to you. Your family was way different, but Johnny’s is cozy and kind and teasing. You join in on jabs at him, and help around the house as best you can, learning more basic skills like cooking and chopping wood. Johnny takes you to a few different places around, along with his brother, and you even meet a couple of his football buddies. They’re friendly and tell you some stories about Johnny. They ask about the ears and antlers. Johnny lets you answer how you choose, whether it’s as a jackalope or a wendigo. At some point he leaves you with his friends to take care of something and when he comes back, he sees you talking and having a good conversation with them. It’s hard to imagine you were once this simple, shy, apologetic kid and now you had grown into a friendly, healthy teenager.

One night you and Johnny take a minute to relax on a bench before continuing your walk home. The two of you had just left his friend and their partner at a store, and the walk home would be long. Johnny could handle walking in the dark but wanted you to be safe too. You both look out at the street lit up by garlands of lights and shop windows. It was good to finally take a break after all the walking around. You watch people go by and notice body language you didn’t often see on base. Couples holding hands, kids running and skipping, snowballs being thrown, parents swinging their kids. You lean against your knees, following Johnny’s sitting position.

“Are all families like this?” You ask. Johnny notices where you had been looking and shrugs.

“Nah all of em. The good ones are.” Johnny ponders for a moment before inquiring. “Take it you didn ave that.”

You shake your head.

“Wha were they like?” He asks. You go very quiet, and he pays closer attention. It’s not an easy subject, your parents were mean and obsessive over your hybrid features. You were outcasted and isolated. Christmas was a rough time, as you would see people happy outside but never felt the same way.

“…they…they used to yell at me. Sometimes hit me.” You confessed. Johnny looks at you. “It kept escalating… sometimes it was burns or no food for a day. Then one day they grounded me and put me in the basement.” You pause for a shaky breath feeling your throat tighten up. Johnny lets you continue at your own pace. “They gave me raw meat and told me there was nothing else…”

You’re shaking recalling the horrid memory of how you became a wendigo. Your family wasn’t normal and your parents weren’t sane. You only found out how insane they were when it was too late. How cultish they could be.

Johnny doesn’t need you to finish, and instead moves closer to you on the bench and holds you tight. The tears just come down and you nestle into his winter jacket. You feel a gloved hand on your head keeping you close.

“You didn do anythin wrong.” He tells you over and over, tucking your head under his chin. “You’re a good kid. Don’ forgae ‘at.”

You finally pull away after a while and he asks if you’re ready to keep going. You nod, he gives you his arm to cling to while you head home. There are still tears but your face is stinging from the cold, and you’d rather be inside. Johnny tries to change the subject or make some jokes with you. He gets a couple giggles for his dad jokes. When you finally get back, Johnny’s mother notices your tears and gets you some water. She doesn’t ask about it and lets her son handle everything while you curl up on the couch with him watching Die Hard.

You feel more and more comfortable snuggling up to Soap, and he you. He’s taken to calling you ‘pup’ and ‘whelp’. When you walk in to relax with him he offers to shift for you so you can have a soft pillow to rest against. It doesn’t take long before his brother and mother are friendly with you too, spending some alone time with them as well. His mother has taken a shine to you, often asking for some help in the kitchen or showing you cute videos she found online. There’s a couple of Facebook posts usually involving the Grinch or Peanuts cartoons that you find cute, and smile at.

His mom expresses concern multiple times about your wardrobe, noticing you wear the same items in a row.

“If ya wouldna mind me askin dear, didn ya wear that shirt yesterday?”

“Y-yes. Is that bad?” You ask.

“No no of curse not, it’s a nice shirt, but doncha ave other clothes?” She asks. When you shake your head she sets down whatever she is working on. It doesn’t take long for her to check if any of her sons’ old clothes will fit you. The clothes are a little baggy on you, even with the couple extra pounds you’ve gained while staying there but they’ll work. Especially since they’ll likely get torn anyways when you back to base. Honestly his mother is glad they’ll be put to use, and they’re some of the few clothes she has that are intact since Johnny’s form often rips his clothing.

Christmas Eve comes around and Soap is up early for his workout and his mother is up for her meal prep.

“Aye ma? Canna ask you somethin?” Soap asks quietly, not wanting to wake you or give you the chance to hear him.

“Yes?”

“Whatcha think of the lass?”

She takes a moment to think about it.

“Lovely child. Takes after ya a bit moore than I’d like.” She teases. Johnny smiles before unloading a bit on to his mother. “They don’t ave anywhere else to go after this, unless Price keeps em. So it got me thinkin uhh…” his tail twitches awkwardly as she takes note of his tone. His mom has seen how her sons’ tails react when they get a certain way. Before he can ask she answers the question.

“I think ya need to think this over some more. I wouldna mind it… but she’s got as much of a say as you do. Honestly she’s a lovely lass, and I know you’ve taken a shine to her. More than a shine, yer practically her brother. You’ve told me what she is, and I have no qualms but ya better be here for her too. I’m not dealin’ with a hybrid under my roof, alone and at my age.”

“I will ma, thank you.” Johnny decides to bring it up later when you guys head back to base.

Christmas comes and it’s overwhelming for someone unused to large close gatherings. Johnny and his brother make it a habit for at least one of them to stay close to you. Their relatives ask tou questions and get to know you. You don’t unload like you did with Johnny, but when your past comes up you do respond.

“Well my adoptive parents were pretty bad, so after that my social worker put me in the program for rehabilitation and relocation I guess.”

When you get the chance you slip away to take a breath, and relax a bit. The whole situation is crazy after being on a such an isolated family. The holidays weren’t exactly great for you, and sometimes you were alone to open gifts by yourself. The gifts were strange too, often in the form of weird books and strange toys. Looking back, to any normal person the gifts should have been red flags. Johnny finds you soon enough, and asks if you just want some time to yourself.

“This is normal? Spending holidays like this?” You ask. He nods.

“Never got ‘at back ‘ome.”

You shake your head. Johnny isn’t one to show vulnerability but damn you make it hard.

“Fairly normal. You open your gifts yet?” He asks. “Come on we’re about to start opening them.”

You get up and follow him, carrying the gifts you got from the 141 into the living room, and sit down. Anyone seeing the scene would know you were out of place, as everyone was either human or a werewolf. Johnny’s mom sits by you, and has a gift for you too. You open it and you laugh, finding a hoodie for Johnny’s favourite football team. Johnny looks over and basically cheers seeing the hoodie. The gifts from the team are a journal and some stationary and a sketchbook. They’re simple gifts sure but they’re better than anything you had gotten before. They were yours.

Next couple days you spend collecting and drawing around the area. You take the journal everywhere, writing about the things you see and draw your own ideas.

During a visit to a restaurant you notice some humans and draw them as hybrids, giving them tails and wings. Any common or ugly looks from other humans go ignored as you focus on the pencils and paper before you.

Your journal gets filled with cards, photos, stickers, scribbles and a couple of miscellaneous items you find like leaves, flowers and feathers. It’s not long before items are poking out from between the pages marking your progress. You write plenty of thoughts, and even a couple stories about the items you find.

[gentrychild]

I wonder, how would the Forgers dynamic with the people in their social circle change once their secrets become known to one another?

Your thoughts?

*misreads your question on purpose*

Hello, do you want my opinion about how the Forgers would react if their secrets became exposed to one another? Of course, of course, if you insist, I guess I could share some thoughts that I have that I do not hold to the ranks of beloved headcanons that canon will have to tear from my cold dead hands.

How would Yor react after learning that Loid is a spy that has been lying to her this whole time: she would admire him even more. She was already in awe of what a good father he was and how skilled he is at everything but it turns out that he is even more extraordinary than expected. Always go beyond when it comes to what he needs to do. He lied to her about the marriage? She lied to him about not murdering people daily in bloody and creative ways, it's a stone she can't cast. He lied to her about Anya being his blood daughter and how she needed to get into Eden Academy because that's what her mom wanted? All she hears is that this man was given a mission and to do that, he happened to rescue Anya from an orphanage, to give her a home where she misses nothing and to be the Best Dad ever. Talk about multitasking.

How would Loid react after learning that Yor is an assassin who has been lying to her this whole time: pure lust for her skills. Unquenchable yearning for the way she can sever someone's spine with one kick. All of Wise and Franky would be freaking out about Yor going through mooks and he would be the "That's my wife!" guy. So proud. Turns out he is somehow even better at choosing spouse than previously assumed. Would he freak out at first? Yes. That's the same guy who freak out about the secret police arresting him for spy crimes if he doesn't buy his daughter a silly keychain. He wouldn't mind the killing, though, as he can hardly cast the stone for that one either. The problem is: is Yor a danger for Anya and Loid? Was he so compromised that he didn't see the threat? And from the moment he remembers that Yor would kill and die for Anya, just like him, there is no problem anymore, rationalization aplenty, cue to him telling the Handler that it's great to have an assassin at home because extra security, good of the mission, blah blah blah, peace of the world.

How would Loid and Yor react after learning that Anya can read minds and got her powers from scientists experimenting on her: Complete and absolute mortification as they are going through every silly thoughts they ever had in her presence. Almost spontaneously combust out of sheer embarrassment. Then, they are "Guess my daughter is even more exceptional than previously assumed but it checks out." No one says a word about her powers to anyone else, though, as they do not want her to be used. And during the entire conversation, they are reaaaaaaaaaaaaaally calm, reaaaaaaaaaaally poised, and as soon as Anya falls asleep, it's MURDER THOUGHTS FOR THE SCIENTISTS that make the entire building hallucinate visions of their own deaths.

How would Loid and Yor react after learning that Bond can see the future: Straight up disbelief. You gotta draw the line somewhere. Then, epic case of freak out when they realize that the first time Anya ran off with the dog was because their kid tried to disarm a bomb.

[abdy-18]

I thought about the parallels between Loid and Anya and it just occurred to me the possibility that, like Anya, [REDACTED] wasn't the best in school, which is why his father looks a bit surprised when he tells him he needs money for books, similar to when Loid is surprised to see Anya studying on her own.

I overthought this and now it's my first long post, sorry jkfhs.

Only, unlike Loid who tries to be empathetic with Anya and values her effort, his father used to be violent every time he didn't get a good grade on an exam.

His mother's reaction after he hits him is to say that “why do you always have to be like this?”, this situation must have been repeated several times and for several reasons, not just for playing war with his friends.

And that's probably why he didn't want Nightfall to be Anya's mother, because, being honest, WISE let Twilight rent a ridiculously expensive castle and made all the agents that were in Ostania drop the missions they were doing just because he asked for it, and he didn't even have to explain what he needed those resources for, considering that, I'm 100% sure that if Twilight had wanted Nightfall to be his wife in the operation Strix, he just had to ask for it and Handler would have given the mission Nightfall had at that moment to another agent so she would be available, but he didn't do it since he knows her, and knows that the teaching method Nightfall proposes is not going to work, because his father treated him like that in his childhood and knows how that feels (Twilight wants a world where children don't cry).

My hc is that [REDACTED] was that kind of kid who is very smart but didn't pay enough attention to school because he was sure he would become a soldier with his friends, or the stress of making his father angry had the opposite effect on his grades, making it difficult for him to concentrate, so he did not reach his full potential.

And it's sad because Twilight is so smart that he's on the level of someone like Yuri (or smarter), who unlike Twilight, was able to graduate from school and college with honors.

In one week, Twilight was able to read all the books necessary to pass himself off as a respected psychiatrist, he can hold conversations with his colleagues without anyone suspecting anything, and everyone at the hospital considers him a good doctor. Imagine what that man would be like if he had really finished school or gone to some university.

Unless on some mission Twilight had to pretend to be a university student, he hasn't been in a classroom since the war started, until joining WISE he must have had the academic education of a 6/8 year old, I feel like it would also fit this part.

Even with his limitations he was able to teach himself with books the knowledge necessary for his false identities, I assume that he taught himself since when the op Strix began we see him go to the library to obtain books about parenthood since his character "Loid Forger" is a loving father, so I assume he must have been like that with all his other characters since he was a rookie, although there is also the possibility that during training he obtained some type of academic education idk

As for Yor, I think she stopped going to school until a few years after being Thron Princess, she managed to resume her studies, but quite behind, so she ends up being a few grades behind Yuri and that's why he has to help her with the academic load.

I think that unlike Twilight she did manage to graduate from school because I don't think she could have gotten a job at the city hall without studies 😅.

Or I don't know, I think I'm overthinking this too much, I think I should go to sleep now 😅, also english is not my first languaje so let me know if i wrote bad something 🤗

[writingwarden]

HESH REQUEST!!!

him helping you clean out your attic and you find a bunch of your childhood stuff :( (including your old diary, which is FILLED with pages you wrote about him)

Anon, you're a genius

David "Hesh" Walker x Reader

TW- None, just fluff, love confessions, kissing, minute emotional angst

Word Count- 2.1k

Summary- Feelings dug up by written words

[A/N- Typed this out in one sitting! Tried to keep it GN.]

Call Sign- BADGER

There was only one good thing about being sent into No Man's Land, and that was the fact you were able to make a stop at your old house. Memories rush at you as you cross what used to be the threshold. The house was smaller than those around it, a nice looking one story building with a huge backyard. As an only child your parents felt they didn’t need so much empty space. Dust covers every surface you look at, the wildlife has taken over every inch it could reach. The air was thick as you moved further into the house, Riley at your heels and his handler not far behind.

Hesh’s and Logan’s footsteps echo loudly against the crumbling walls of your once pristine home. Your mother had taken pride in how orderly she had kept things. She always had somebody over for whatever reasons. That was actually how you had come to know the Walker boys. You mom and dad had been close friends of Elias Walker, your dad having served with the man. One day she had them over for lunch, the next thing you know you’re skating with Hesh and teaching Logan how to pick locks. You three had become the three musketeers. If one of you had an idea, then all of you had a plan.

Stopping in the middle of the kitchen to take in the feelings that come with returning to a place you used to hold dear, a long sigh leaves your chest. “It’s weird being back here after everything,” you say to the men behind you, “We have a minute to look around, feel free to dredge up old memories.” 

Slinging your rifle over your shoulder, you start looking through the cabinets. You weren’t looking for anything specific but it was somewhat comforting to see that most of the dishware had survived. You could hear comments from Hesh from further in the house. Moving through the house made you almost want to tear up, it was a lot to process in the short amount of time you had. Down the hallway was Riley.

The dog stood in front of your old bedroom door, behind him the ladder that led to the attic had been pulled down. “Which one of you’s up there?” you called out from the floor. Hesh’s head pops out, looking down at you with a grin on his face. You shoot him a questioning glance.

“Badger, the fort is still standing!” He elaborates excitedly. The fort in question was exactly as it sounds; a hangout spot built from storage tubs and old blankets that hadn’t been used since your parents lived up north. A smile creeps onto your face when a memory hits you. 

“Well shit, I told you it would survive to the end of the world.” You had built the place after all, and your creations don’t fall apart easily. “You know, there should be a box of those books in there somewhere. I remember a copy of World War Z being in there somewhere. See if you can find them?” you suggest. 

He moves his head around in an indecisive way before nodding, “Yeah I'll try to find it.” He disappears back into the attic for a second before reappearing, “Oh yeah, I found some stuff from when you were younger. I’ll bring some down for you to look through.” And with that he’s gone again. 

A huff from Riley has you looking down and shaking your head fondly at the dog. Riley pawed at the closed door again. Looking up you stare at the plain white door that leads to your old bedroom, why were you hesitating?

Slowly you reach your hand out, resting it on the cool brass doorknob. Just open the door. Placing your forehead against the door and taking a deep breath, You don’t have time to move this slow. What is wrong? A quick push and the door squeals open, hinges rusted from years of no use and nature's wrath.

The room looks just how you left it, your favorite color painted on the walls and your bed still unmade. If it weren’t for the dust and fallen debris from where a part of the ceiling fell in, the room looks as if you had just stepped out for a moment. Clothes still strewn around from your searching and desk still in disarray from writing in your diary before you left. That’s how you knew you were desperate to leave, you never left that book in the open. But you had been so worried about getting over to Hesh’s place that you had left it open. You don’t know why you hadn’t put it up, the Walker household was only a three block walk from your own. You would have made it in time.

You had been a block away from the boy’s house when the ground exploded, sending you into the grass. Your skateboard still clutched tightly under your arm, your blue  drawstring bookbag cushioning your fall. In your panicked state you tried to rush home, the sifting road preventing you from reaching your destination. Your only saving grace had been Hesh’s dad, Mr. Elias Walker in his screeching to a  halt in front of you. He flung the passenger side door open and you scrambled in. After that, he found the boys and the rest is history.

Entering the room further you pick up random items, quickly and silently going through the items. A few small items are stashed into your backpack, two of which being a family photo and your childhood keepsake. The thought passed to go into your parents room but you knew that would only bring sobbing and you couldn’t afford that right now. If you were lucky there would be a later time to properly mourn for them again. Turning around, you face the messy desk. As you approach you take in the messy state of it, shaking your head at the lack of organization.

A thump from the kitchen. Stepping out into the hallway you see Logan picking up a dining chair. “You okay Lo?” you call from where you stand. He looks up and smiles before holding a thumbs up in your direction. Shaking your head at the younger man, you re-enter the room, heading straight back to the desk. That diary that held every thought that crossed your past thoughts. Every single one dated and time stamped in a 24 hour clock format. Your dad had been adamant that you used the “military” time, citing that you would never be confused between 5:00 AM and 5:00 PM. He had been right, you had never confused 05:00 with 17:00. 

Picking up the book you can’t help but feel like you were in mourning. Flipping through the pages reveals a time where what you were wearing to go out and the latest thing Hesh had done to make you feel butterflies in your stomach were the biggest problems in your life; not worrying about a bullet through your skull or a knife to the gut. Those feelings were still there like a raging storm. And it was honestly no surprise that you had come to be absolutely smitten with the man in the room above you. Everyone could see that even now you were in love with Hesh. Everyone but him; flipping back to the last page that had been written, your heart breaks a little more.

The date on the top of the page read 10:49, July 10th, 2017. The day ODIN had fired on Earth and uprooted the entire world's life. Eyes scanning the page as memories from that day screech to a halt in the forefront of your mind. You and Hesh were supposed to go downtown to skate and meet up with a few friends for dinner. Past you lamented onto the page about your outfit and that your hair wasn’t working with you. In between complaining about your outfit or excitedly talking about your plans for later that day, was your feelings of nervousness. You remember vividly searching frantically through your wardrobe and failing to find that one shirt Hesh had said he liked on you. That day was supposed to be special. Skating, dinner with your crush, a confession that you had hoped wouldn’t go wrong; instead you got a burnt breakfast and a crater in the middle of the city.

Footsteps echo from the attic as Hesh calls for you, “Badger! I got a box of things, could use some help getting it down.” 

You finish putting the diary and any working stationary into your pack before moving to the bottom of the ladder again. Hesh wastes no time handing you a medium sized plastic tub. Taking the box into your arms you're surprised about how heavy it is. He must have found a lot. Hesh makes his way down as you walk back into the bedroom.

The box is set on the unmade bed and the lid is removed from the box to reveal several more items from your childhood. Most of them had been completely forgotten. Further into the box were books from the fort. But the item that had you pausing was the brightly colored notebook that once served as your diary. Flipping to the cover page revealed your name and a messy all capitalized KEEP OUT OR ELSE in blue sharpie. 

Hesh steps up to your left side, a shit-eating grin sprawled across his face. “Prime literature right there, Badger.” He says teasingly. Heat rushes to your face, you feel that if you turned and looked at the mirror on the back of your bedroom door you’d probably see your entire face looked as if you slammed it into a bucket of blush. 

You begin to stammer out an explanation when Hesh takes the book from your hands. He flips to a certain page and clears his throat. “I’ll have to say, this one’s probably my favorite,” His eyes sparkled as he read the words out loud, “I can’t believe that I’m in love with this stupid, handsome, green-eyed dumbass. Somebody please sedate me before I explode the next time he shoots me that stupid ass smile. With three green hearts drawn after it.” 

You could’ve passed away on the spot, embarrassment zipping through your very soul as he flips through the pages. Avoiding his eyes you look anywhere but him, afraid of the rejection you’d find there. He was going to laugh at you and that would hurt more than a straight up “No.” would have. Why of all things did he have to find that! You pick at your hands as you look back at him, preparing yourself for the worst.

But you don’t find laughing or a sneer at your words, you just see him studying your being. Instead you find joy in his eyes and that stupid comforting smile. “I- I can explain-” you begin but don’t get to finish. You don’t get to finish what was sure to be a jumbled ramble because Hesh is surging forward, his lips pressed to yours. His hands pull you close by your vest straps to deepen the kiss. The shock leaves just as quick as it came and you're wrapping your arms around his neck.

Eventually you both need to come up for air, the realization of what is happening dawning slowly on you. 

“That was-”

“I-” 

You both began at the same time. You clear your throat, “You first?” 

Hesh shifts on his feet, looking rather pleased with himself. “I was going to stop reading it, I swear!” He puts his hands up in a defensive way, “But then I saw my name and I got invested in this little plot of yours.” 

Sheepishly you raise your hand to rub the back of your head, “Yeah, well I had a lot to write about…” You let your sentence trail off, unsure of what to say next. But you figure you might as well tell him. “I feel like this is the part where I tell you I had planned to tell you after we were supposed to go downtown and meet up with our friends.” You laugh quietly and gesture to the dusty clothes strewn around the room, “I was even trying to find that one shirt that you told me you liked.” A pause of silence passes before he speaks up. 

“But then ODIN happened… Well shit, Badger.” He also looked at a loss for words. A rare sight. “Well, no time like now, huh?” 

You thought for a minute before leaning back in and kissing him again. “Yeah, no time like now I suppose.” 

[Not Pictured- Logan and Riley standing in the doorway baffled.]

[A/N- Took a little inspiration from my own younger self's journal! Hope I did this Justice! Likes and Re-blogs are always welcomed]

[sashaisready]

Food shopping with Bucky

I love a little domesticity and sweetness so here’s a fluffy drabble on what it’d be like to do your grocery shopping with Bucky.

~ He’d often be overwhelmed by the sheer choice at the supermarket. In his day it was one type of everything, maybe two, not shelves and shelves of different brands and varieties. You’d find him in an aisle holding two near identical boxes of cereal in his hands, trying to figure out which one is better until you swoop in and help.

~ ‘You don’t need all this choice’ he’d grumble. ‘Nobody needs to decide between 8 different types of ketchup’.

~ You’d smile affectionately and take his arm. ‘Alright old man, simmer down’. He’d give you a warning look but then his face would crumple into a smile. You’re the only one who can talk like that to him and get away with it.

~ He never did his own grocery shopping as the Soldier because his handlers kept him fed, so it’s been a bit of a learning curve. But despite how overwhelming it can be he quite likes the experience: chatting to the workers, diligently following a list. Mostly he likes that he’s in control, he gets to choose exactly what he wants. You know having that autonomy is important to him, so you let him lead.

~ Food is becoming more enjoyable to him because of you. He used to only eat for fuel, for necessity, but now he has started enjoying eating and cooking because you’ve introduced him to the joys of food. He wanders off and you find him peering at the cooking sauces aisle while checking a new recipe on his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration. ‘Let’s try this one’ he tells you as he picks up the sauce. You nod encouragingly, ‘Sure, looks good’ you say smiling. He’s come a long way.

~ You stretch to reach something on the tallest shelf but can’t quite manage. Without missing a beat he grabs it with ease and hands it to you. Later on you go to pick up a heavy bag of charcoal for the BBQ and he tsks you scoldingly, grabbing the bag from you and slugging it effortlessly over his shoulder. ‘Doll…’ he sighs. ‘I’ve told you before to be careful’. He looks at you with a hint of annoyance, his stern face no match for how much he cares for you.

~ As you wait in line he diligently checks the cart to ensure you got everything you need, his metal fingers casually drawing a circle on your lower back as he double checks the list. It’s handwritten on paper of course, he much prefers that to the Notes app. He tells you striking each item off is more satisfying that way. ~ After you’ve paid, you’re delayed when he helps an elderly lady take her bags to her car, vaulting them all up into his arms at once as she stares on, bewildered by his strength.

~ You can’t help but steal a kiss as he returns, he kisses back but looks at you with confusion when you finally finish. ‘What was that for?’ he asks. ‘I just love you’ you smile. He smiles right back. ‘And I love you, Doll’.

[vermilionsun]

Here's the good ending :]

"Bad" ending here

Word count: 2.5k Rating: Explicit Fandom: Touchstarved (Red Spring Studio) Categories: Other Relationships: Mhin/Vere, Mhin & Vere Tags: Sex, Smut, PWOP, Rough sex, Biting, Public sex/Voyeurism, Possessive Behavior (Vere duh), Dirty Talk, Dry humping, Against the wall, Against the mirror, lingerie, Top Vere, Bottom Mhin, Poor cashier

Vere was silently following a Soulless on the outskirts of Eridia, which was, well, just a small distance away from the Amaryllis District's main road. He was keeping a good distance, ready to pounce at any moment. He stalked silently through the undergrowth, his keen senses attuned to the slightest movement. Light filtered through the foliage, casting dappled shadows on the wasteland floor.

Suddenly, a rustle breaks the silence. Vere's ears perk up, and he crouches lower, blending into the shadows as he tracks the direction of the noise. Vere startles as Mhin appears out of nowhere, swiftly dispatching the Soulless with a single strike of their dagger. He lets out a frustrated huff.

Mhin’s head snaps to the side, and their eyes narrow at the sight of Vere emerging from the shadows. They instinctively move into a defensive stance, one hand grasping the dagger at their side.

Vere raises an eyebrow and eyes Mhin warily, his gaze calculating. He holds his hands up in a submissive gesture. He takes a few slow steps forward, still partially obscured by the shadows. "Impressive." He purrs, a hint of mockery in his voice.

Mhin’s expression remains guarded, their body poised to react at a moment’s notice. "I know how to handle myself," they respond tersely, their voice low and wary.

Vere smirks and steps further into the open, his movements unhurried. "No doubt." He concedes, his pink eyes glimmering. "But that was my prey."

Mhin bristles slightly at Vere’s words, their irritation rising. They clench their teeth, their grip on their knife tightening. "And I’m the one who actually took it down," they retort, their voice cool and defiant. "If you wanted it so badly, you should have been faster."

Vere lets out a low chuckle, his smirk widening into a feline grin. "Oh, I see. You're quite the little hunter, aren't you?" He drawls, his steps becoming a slow, deliberate stalk towards Mhin.

Mhin simply watches Vere, their body tense and coiled like a spring, ready to snap. They stand their ground, refusing to back down. "I’m the one who gets results," they reply, their voice betraying just a hint of smugness.

Vere's smile falters momentarily at Mhin's words, but he covers it up with a derisive snort. "You little—"

"Vere!" Vere's handler approaches the two. "Did you get that Soulless?" She asks.

Vere turns to the woman, his expression instantly shifting to a mask of feigned innocence. He gives her a small nod. "Of course, I'm just... admiring a certain someone's impressive skills." He gestures towards Mhin, his tone dripping with subtle sarcasm.

The handler turns towards Mhin, eyeing them with a hint of curiosity. "Hm, I see. We profusely thank you for your assistance," the woman tells Mhin, while giving a dirty glance at Vere as if saying, 'You're in trouble.'

Vere notices his handler's stare and lets out a low huff, knowing that he's going to receive a lecture later. He glances back at Mhin, his expression unreadable but his eyes betraying a hint of irritation.

Mhin allows a small smirk to play across their lips before turning their attention back to the handler. "Just doing my job," they reply, their tone cool and detached. "You can consider it a favor." Their gaze then moves to Vere, silently challenging him to make a move.

"A favor, you say?" He drawls.

Mhin can see the gears turn in Vere's head. Then his eyes light up.

Uh oh.

"Actually," he says suddenly, his tone abruptly changing to one of mock graciousness. "I suppose a thank you is in order. You did, after all, so generously spare me the trouble of dealing with that Soulless." He takes a small step closer to Mhin, maintaining eye contact as he continues.

"In fact, I think some sort of token of gratitude is warranted. Perhaps you'd be willing to accompany me on a small outing?"

Mhin's heart sinks. "No—"

"Perfect!" Vere cuts them off before they can utter a single word. Vere turns to his handler, a sickly sweet smile plastered on his face. He motions towards Mhin, as if in explanation. "You wouldn't mind, would you, dear?" He asks her, his tone oozing charm.

"Vere."

He bristles slightly at the sound of his handler's stern voice, his smile fading just a fraction. "What? I’m just wanting to properly show my gratitude." He retorts, feigning innocence. He knows he's pushing his luck, but he can't help the excitement that courses through him at the prospect of a bit of freedom. "It'll only be a short while. I’ll return straight after, I promise." He adds, his eyes pleading. His handler regards him, her expression unreadable.

After a few tense moments, she relents with a sigh. "...One hour."

A triumphant grin spreads across Vere’s face, and he gives a small nod. "Perfect, thank you, dear."

He turns back to Mhin, his smirk returning with a vengeance. "You heard her. One hour." He takes Mhin's arm and pulls them back towards the city. The latter blinks in surprise at the swift exchange, a flicker of annoyance passing over their expression.

Mhin ends up following Vere (big mistake); their steps measured and deliberate as they eye him suspiciously.

They arrive at a small, unassuming shop, and Mhin raises an eyebrow at the sign.

They take a step back, their cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. "A lingerie shop?" Mhin blurts out, their voice laced with disbelief. "Seriously?"

Vere grins. "Ah, not quite what you expected, is it?" He chuckles, opening the door and gesturing for Mhin to enter.

Mhin hesitates, their expression a mixture of annoyance and incredulity. They sigh heavily, taking a deep breath to compose themselves before slowly walking into the shop.

They immediately feel out of place; the intimate atmosphere and the array of lacy undergarments surrounding them only add to their discomfort. "You have some nerve, bringing me to a place like this." Mhin mutters.

Vere follows Mhin into the shop, his eyes scanning the various items on display with a hint of mischief. "Nerve? Me? Oh, come now, relax. You might find something you like," he teases, picking up a pair of lacy panties and showing them to Mhin, dangling them tantalizingly.

Mhin's cheeks burn even hotter at the sight and quickly tear their gaze away, schooling their expression into a scowl. "Pffft, highly doubtful." They respond, trying to keep their voice level. They cross their arms over their chest. "There's no way I'm trying on any of this."

Vere sets down the panties, his eyes scanning the shop for something else. "Oh, don't be so sure," he purrs, his tone dripping with arrogance.

He strolls over to a rack of bras, his eyes roving over the selection. His gaze suddenly locks on one in particular, and he grins. Vere picks up the bra, holding it up to Mhin with a smug smile.

"Now, this looks like it would suit you quite well."

The bra is lace, and the color a deep, rich red. It looks luxurious and elegant, and would fit snugly around Mhin's chest. Vere gives it an appreciative look, his mind already imagining what it would look like on them.

Mhin's eyes widen. "There's no way in hell I'm putting that on," they reply, their voice trembling slightly.

Vere steps closer, his voice dropping to a silky murmur as he holds the bra up to Mhin's chest. "Oh, but darling, wouldn't you like to feel how soft it is? How exquisite would it look against your skin?" He spins them around to face the mirror.

"It's quite simple, really," he purrs, moving to stand directly behind Mhin. He moves the lace above their shirt, letting it brush slowly along their chest. "I can see it in your eyes... You're considering it."

Mhin's breath hitches, and they swallow hard, their mind struggling to maintain clarity as Vere's words echo in their ears. They feel the heat of his breath against the back of their neck, his proximity sending a confusing array of sensations through their body.

"I am not!" They protest weakly, their voice betraying even more uncertainty than they intended.

Vere chuckles, relishing the way Mhin's body responds to his words. "What's the harm in just trying it on? Just to see how it looks."

"Just... just to see how it looks," they whisper, the words barely audible.

"That's right, darling. Just to see." Vere smirks, taking their whispered words as a victory. He helps them take off their shirt and gently slides the straps of the bra over their arms and shoulders, positioning it so that it fits securely against their chest.

Mhin's heart races as they take in the sight of their reflection. They can feel the weight of Vere's gaze upon them, the heat of his eyes burning into their flesh. "I... I look..." They trail off.

"Speechless, are we? I don't blame you. Red suits you quite well." He praises, his hands gently caressing their arms.

"I... I look indecent," they finally murmur.

Vere's hands settle on their hips. His grip is firm, but his touch is gentle, almost reverent. "You look tempting. Delectable, seductive, alluring…" He presses himself against their back, his chest against their bare skin. His hands glide slowly up their sides, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Mhin shivers, and a small gasp slips past their lips. "Vere."

"Hm, are you finally giving in? Can you see just how delicious you look?" He moves his hands up to their chest, his fingers dancing over the lace, before moving to caress the smooth skin beneath.

Mhin closes their eyes, their body arching instinctively, seeking more of his touch. "Yes..." They whisper, the word coming out as a plea rather than a response.

"Yes... what?" He murmurs, his lips brushing against their ear. He continues to run his hands over the lace, his thumbs circling their chest, drawing small, slow circles over their sensitive nipples. "Say it. Say exactly what you want, and it's yours."

Mhin's body quivers under his possessive touch, their breath coming in ragged gasps. They try to find their voice to say what he wants them to say, but the words are caught in their throat.

"You," they gasp out, "I want... I want you."

Vere grins, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He can feel their body shiver under his touch, resolve completely shattered. Leaning down, he traces a path of kisses along their neck, his tongue tasting their skin. He grips their hips, spinning them around to face him and pressing them against the mirror.

They can see the hunger in his eyes, the raw desire that mirrors their own. "Please... take me," they beg, their voice breathless and needy.

"That's it. Beg for me. Tell me how much you want me, how much you need me." His hands move to their wrists, pinning them above their head, his mouth finding their neck again, nipping and sucking on the sensitive skin.

It's like Mhin's under some spell. They can hardly think; their mind clouded with lust and longing. Every touch, every kiss, every word from Vere has them completely enthralled; all they want is to feel him, to be with him, and to give in to the overwhelming need that courses through their veins.

"Please," they gasp out, their voice hoarse with need. "I need you. I want you. Please, I'll do anything, just don't stop…"

"Anything? What if I want you to be mine completely? What if I want it all?" One of his knees comes up to Mhin's sex.

They try to arch into the feeling, instinctively seeking more friction, more pressure. "Yes," they moan. "I'll be yours. All yours. Please… I need you."

"That's right, darling. You're mine. All mine." He bites down on their neck hard enough to draw blood.

"Yours," they whisper, the words coming out as a desperate plea. "All yours, please…"

Vere's control is stretched thin.

Vere changes his hold and uses one hand to override their leather pants and underwear, revealing their bare skin underneath. He shifts his body, repositioning his knee between their legs. He can feel their heat against him, his body responding in kind.

They instinctively try to grind against him, desperate for more pressure, more contact. "Please..." They whisper, their voice trembling with need. "Please don't tease me…"

"Such impatience. But I suppose you've earned it." He grinds his knee against them, applying more pressure, giving them the friction they so desperately seek.

"Yes," Mhin gasps and moans, their body arching into his touch as they grind against his knee. "Please, more… more. I need more…"

Vere growls against their skin, his hands moving to their thighs, pulling them to wrap around him. He lifts them up, pinning them against the mirror. "That's it, darling. I want to hear you scream."

One of his hands unbuckles his belt and slides it off, his other hand reaching down into his pants…

With a swift motion, he enters them, causing Mhin to cry out.

"Oh… oh..." They gasp out, their voice catching in their throat.

"That's it, darling. Look at you… completely at my mercy." He pulls back, only to slam back in with even more force, making Mhin's head spin. "Say it again. Say you're mine. Say you belong to me."

Mhin's head falls back against the mirror, the combination of pain and pleasure almost too much to bear. "I... I'm yours... all yours... please," they whined, no longer in control of their own words.

Vere captures their mouth in a rough, heated kiss, his tongue finally—finally—claiming their mouth.

Their bodies move together in a frantic rhythm, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Mhin's hands claw at Vere's back, their nails leaving red marks in their wake, trying to pull him even closer, even deeper.

"You're so beautiful like this; you know that, darling? So vulnerable, so open, so mine."

The mirror fogs up and cracks under the pressure.

Neither notices.

Mhin can feel themselves teetering on the edge, every nerve feeling like it's on fire, gasps and moans growing more frantic.

"Yes, that's it. Let go for me. Let me taste you." Vere whispers as he slams into them one final time, sending them both over the edge, shaking and letting out a low, guttural moan that fills the room.

They collapse together, panting and trembling, their bodies still intertwined as they try to catch their breath.

Mhin clings onto Vere, their fingers tangled in his hair, breaths coming in ragged gasps as they try to catch their breath. "Vere... oh... god..."

Vere holds them close, his arms wrapping around them, his body still pressed against theirs. He nuzzles his face against their neck, inhaling their scent.

"I'm buying you the whole damn shop."

[londondungeon2]

concept with dullahan! dire crowley OR dullahan! floyd leech, you can imagine either ⁽(◍˃̵͈̑ᴗ˂̵͈̑)⁽

now playing harley poe’s vengeance the demon / close the door / outcrowd

part i. vengeance the demon.

it always starts with you running. it has never once changed; you, desperate and panting, throw yourself across the earth on two lunging legs.

sometimes, you trip. sometimes, you crash into things. but you always keep running and running away from the sound of clomping hooves in pursuit. they echo in the mine ruins that you always find yourself in, sounding like an army of horses instead of the single one giving chase.

one time, you finally manage to reach the end of the mine shaft as you can see these polka dot patterns of light just ahead. you break out into a sprint.

the air is less humid when you burst out of the mines like a bullet passing through a body. you make a wild run for the houses lit by lanterns. pumpkins are on each porch. you end up stumbling into one, acquiring a new shoe, as you throw yourself against the door.

“please! he’ll kill me! he’ll kill me he’ll kill me!”

the only response you get is the window by the door opening just slightly. you almost miss the motion, so focused on pounding your fist against the wood. but through your eyes and the blood and the mud, you manage to spy it. two fingers opening up a crack in the blinds and one single eye peeking at you.

“please … please …” you sniffle, blood and snot a thick mélange running down your lips.

the eye stares at you. it looks like an immovable stone, something that has already made its decision. the light of the glowing pumpkin and lanterns pale in comparison to how bright the eye is.

“i can’t help you, yous folk is marked.”

ii. close the door

the girls and boys at your university hate you. your parents don’t hate you but they don’t like you either. you’re not even sure you like yourself.

the only person (and he’s not even a person) who loves you is your black cat, grim.

grim purrs at you which you take as validation as sweet as boyfriend saying he loves you or as validation as heartwarming as a best friend saying she’s grateful that two of you have become friends because no one gets her like you do. in him, you find validation that you have been missing since you were seven and that boy died at your birthday party.

it wasn’t your fault. your hands were only on the reins because the handler asked you, the birthday girl, if you wanted to hold and guide the horse. you must’ve fucked it up somehow because the horse reeled up, a black stallion of huge proportions looking like something carved into a monolith, before the stallion kicked back his legs and struck a boy in the head.

blood paints over the grass as the first adult came outside with the cake, the beginning of happy birthday on his tongue.

which is why some girls corner you in the bathroom, one wearing a party city horse mask and getting in your face. another kicks the stall, mimicking clop-clop noises with her mouth.

because the town hates you. everyone has always hated you.

it causes you little stress besides tears. what causes you the biggest stress is returning to your dorm, finding your window open yet not finding grim.

you search the streets like mad, shaking tuna treats in your hands.

eventually, you come across paw prints that have found their way into a water storm drain tunnel, those ones cities and towns install to minimize flooding risk. the paw prints are wet and small but you know deep down grim’s in there somewhere.

after some hesitation, you walk in.

it’s dark and humid. and you mean dark as in the only way to tell where walls are is to move your hands outward to check where they lie, you can barely make out shapes in this nebulous black. and you mean humid as your hair is starting to stick to the back of your neck and the place where your inner thighs touch are sweating with a passion.

but you have to find the only person who loves you.

you keep going till your foot catches on something. you don’t trip but you feel around with the sole of your foot, coming to conclusion you are stepping on none other than mine-tracks.

you have to go back. you have to go back! you think with a blinding panic.

but then you hear a meow, soft and faint. gradually, you calm down and call out for grim. please, grim come, you have been traveling too far down this rabbit-hole, both of you need to go home safe and sound.

but he doesn’t come, continuously meowing. a little farther, you can risk going that much for grim.

so you keep going, one of each shoe placed on the sides of the tracks, shaking your bag of tuna treats.

eventually, you come across light. not sparse light like polka dots but bright light that almost blinds you.

they’re celebrating something in a town just a two minute walk away. they are celebrating halloween.

the door on your old life is permanently shut.

iii. outcrowd

grim, you see him. just a bit down the way, he’s weaving through the crowd of people lined up on each side of a giant parade.

you pass by a man breathing fire, another on an elephant, one who is clipping roses from his skin and handing them out to children, another who is — your sight suddenly blurs when two forces hit you with surprising force.

“mama!!” they cry in unison. and two twins with your face but golden eyes gaze up at with love you have never been shown to before by human features.

“i told you two, not to run off during the parade; must i keep you on a leash,” a man with hair split black and white breaks through the crowd.

“oh well now i see why they ran so swiftly,” this mysterious man says as he addresses you. “welcome back, (name); i was worried you weren’t going to make it this year.”

“mama was gonna come this year! dad promised!” the twin on your right says, taking the easy opportunity to slip his hand into yours.

“dad never breaks his promise, uncle crewel! never!” the one on the left clings to your entire arm like a snake.

“i see,” the man tuts, giving you a mischievous wink. “come on then; he also promised to attain this parade,” mumbled under his breath, “if only he stays in the mood to attend this one and not chase his beloved wife around.”

the twins, with a surprising amount of strength, drag you along.

so, against your will, you watch this halloween parade pass by. finally apart of the crowd, loved and cared about by people. not part of that outcrowd that has kept you isolated.

it comes and goes until finally the star of the show arrives, a man cloaked in black, a pumpkin as a head, riding the black stallion from your childhood.

you try to pull away. the twins hold on tight. you watch in betrayal as grim walks up to the horse, only to be scooped lovingly in the arms of the rider, purring away.

that man is going to kill me, you think as he draws closer on that ebony stead of nightmares.

then, finally, he stops his horse in front of you and offers his hand up to you like a man offering up his entire heart, body, and soul. the twin on the right slots your numb hand into the rider’s easily. you are lifted onto the horse, sandwiched between the neck and a warm body, resisting the urge to cry like a baby.

“my wife,” the man behind you breathes amorous on your neck, removing the pumpkin from his face.

a single gold/two gold eyes greet you with such love you almost cry. “how lovely of you to finally join us.”

when he kisses you, you do cry.

[serenelystrange]

At AO3 or under the cut!

In hindsight, the whole thing is Maddie’s fault, really. Buck’s been working as the handyman extraordinaire for the Wish Granted boutique hotel for nearly three years when Maddie finally wanders back into his life and becomes a regular at cozy hotel restaurant. Buck watches her and their head chef Chimney slowly fall in love with a mix of pride and the cringe that comes with catching his sibling making out in the back pantry with one of his closest friends.

It's Chim who suggests to Athena and Bobby that maybe their little restaurant could have a lounge singer for the quieter wine nights, and once they’ve heard Maddie’s sweetly melodic voice, they readily agree. It’s not until a few months into her job that Maddie drums up the courage to ask if they can potentially add a piano player to help with all the song requests from the audience of largely older men. Athena, in her infinite wisdom, and what Buck is positive is some form of future-sight, agrees.

She leaves the hiring up to Bobby, who schedules several interviews over the next few weeks, each one adequate but unremarkable. Which brings Buck to the day that changes everything, and it’s all because of a busted air conditioner.

“Buck!” Hen calls out from her Managers corner at the front desk. “Oh you found a fan, thank goodness.”

Buck grins and hefts the heavy metal fan in his arms as he approaches.

“Yeah, this was in the maintenance shed. It might be older than me, but it’ll help you cool down until the HVAC people can fix whatever is going on with the air on this floor.”

“Some handyman you are,” Hen teases, smiling gratefully as Buck plugs the dusted and cleaned fan in and turns the blast onto her and their concierge handler Ravi.

“You don’t want me messing with HVAC,” Buck says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the cuff of the unfortunately long sleeved shirt he’d chosen before he knew the air conditioning was broken. “I’d just break it worse and Cap and Athena wouldn’t appreciate those bills.”

Hen laughs. “You know Bobby was kidding when he told you to call him Captain, right? This is a hotel, not a ship.”

“It suits him!” Buck defends, shrugging. “Plus, it’s less fun if he knows I know he was just messing with me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hen says, eyes moving towards the hotel door on instinct as the chime sounds. “Incoming, Ravi,” she says, gesturing to a man approaching the desk with a small boy on his hip and a nervous look on his face.

Buck watches them approach with the same mild interest he has for every guest, wondering what their story is, until they get close enough for Buck to really see the man, and he has to practically catch his breath.

“Oh my god,” he whispers to Hen, turning his back to the little family. “Who just walks around being that hot?”

Hen snickers, and doesn’t look up from the paperwork she’s suddenly made herself busy with. “That is a beautiful man,” she agrees.

Buck is already going through the stages of grief that this gorgeous man will only be there a night, when he hears the response to Ravi’s offer of assistance.

“I have an interview with Bobby Nash,” the guy says, quiet but sure, “for the piano player position.”

“Buck can take you to his office!” Hen jumps into action, giving the man a sunny smile that Buck immediately distrusts. He knows shenanigans when he sees them.

“What? I..” Buck says, caught off guard, before sighing internally and shrugging.

“Sure,” he says, giving the adorable boy a little wave before trying to give the absurdly beautiful man his most professional smile. “It’s just down the hall here,” he says, coming around the desk to lead the way. “Sorry about the heat,” he adds after a moment, “someone should be coming out soon to fix it, hopefully.”

“Eh,” the guy says, grimacing slightly, “at least it wont look like all the sweat is from nerves, right?”

Buck can’t help it, he laughs slightly, the poor guy is a mess.

“Don’t worry about it,” Buck says, “Bobby is great, you don’t have to be nervous.”

“Thanks,” the guy says, hugging the boy closer for a moment as they get closer to the office. “I just really need this to work out, especially because it’s..” he trails off, blushing red as he looks off. “Never mind,” he says, “didn’t mean to vent my issues to a stranger.”

Buck stops, a few feet from Bobby’s closed office door, and turns to face the man fully.

“Hey,” he says, noticing for the first time how under the stubble and tired eyes, the man looks maybe only a little bit older than Buck. “I’m Buck, and you are?”

The guy rolls his eyes reflexively but gives him a little grin as he reaches out a hand to shake.

“I’m Eddie,” he says, and then gestures to the sleepy boy resting on his shoulder. “And this little guy is Chris. He’s almost five, and is usually napping on Abuela’s couch right now instead of being dragged along to a job interview with dad.”

“Couch naps are the best,” Buck agrees, grinning over at the boy, before looking back up to Eddie. “What was “especially”?” he asks, curiously. “I know the pay is decent, but I’m sure there’s better paying jobs out there.”

Eddie looks uncomfortable for another moment before seeming to internally say ‘fuck it’, and shrugging the shoulder that Chris isn’t laying on before answering.

“It comes with a place to live,” he says. “We’ve been staying with my grandmother since I got back, but she lives in a tiny one-bedroom and she’d never admit it, but I know we’re starting to drive her crazy.”

“Oh!” Bucks says, nodding with understanding, “yeah, I live here too! Rent is insane out there, I think I actually cried when Bobby said that I’d get a room and a salary with the maintenance job. No shame!”

Eddie gives him a grateful look, and they continue walking the last few feet, Bobby’s door swinging open just as they get there.

“You must be Edmundo,” Bobby says with a friendly smile, “thanks for delivering him, Buck.”

“Just Eddie is fine,” Eddie says, giving Bobby a firm handshake, before gesturing to Chris. “Sorry about the last-minute addition, my sitter had a doctor’s appointment she couldn’t miss.”

“Never apologize for taking care of your kid, son,” Bobby says, genially. “Come on in, this shouldn’t take too long.”

Eddie moves into the office and takes a seat, a now-sleeping Chris snoring softly into his neck.

“Good luck,” Buck says, standing awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, before nodding to Bobby and closing the door gently after him as he leaves.

He spares a moment to shoot a wish into the universe that Eddie gets the job. If Bobby doesn’t hire him and his big brown eyes, Buck might just dramatically curl up and die.

Eddie looks down at the two big suitcases that hold everything he and Chris own as he loads them into his truck, frowning. He’s so grateful for the job and the place to live, but he still wonders if all of this will be too hard for Chris. Sighing, he makes sure Chris is buckled into his booster seat before climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. He supposes there’s only one way to find out.

When they get to the hotel, Eddie parks in the employee section of the lot, worrying his lip at how far the walk will be for Chris and his crutches day to day, but shakes his head. He’ll carry his son around every day if it means they have a safe and stable home. It’s one of the days where Chris insists on walking for himself, so Eddie lets him, wheeling along the bags as they slowly make their way to the front doors.

There’s a pretty, brunette woman waiting at the desk for him, with a paper employee handbook in her hands along with a key card.

“I’m Maddie,” she says, giving Chris a soft look and a sunny smile. “I’m the lounge singer, we’ll be hanging out a lot, so Bobby and Athena sent me to make sure you two get settled in.”

“Hey Mads, do you know where the…” Buck comes out from the back office and stops short, seeing Eddie and Chris at the desk. “You guys are here! Awesome!”

He looks down at Chris, who is standing slightly buckled in his crutches after the long walk to the door, and gives a little frown.

“Give me like 5 minutes,” he says to Maddie, “just need to check with Bobby about something real quick.”

“He said they were all set,” Maddie says, but Buck is already jogging off toward Bobby’s office, so she just shrugs.

“Brothers,” she says to Eddie, sighing. “You have siblings?”

“Two younger sisters,” Eddies replies, “but they’re back in Texas.”

“Oh,” Maddie says, giving him a sad look. “Do you have any family here?”

“My aunt and grandmother live here,” Eddie says, “but that’s it. We only moved here about six months ago.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll all be good friends in no time,” Maddie says. “It sounds corny, but it really is like a family here. If you let it be.”

“Literally, in your case,” Eddie says, laughing as he sees all six foot plus of Buck bounding back towards them.

“Don’t let his size fool you,” Maddie says, “he’s just a giant golden retriever.”

“You know,” Eddie says, “I’m getting that.”

“There’s some maintenance issues with the room we had them in,” Buck says, jumping back into the conversation, so you just need to have Ravi swap out the cards and you can bring them to 310.”

“310?” Maddie asks, looking confused, “are you sure?”

“Cap’s orders,” Buck confirms, before turning to Eddie. “I can bring your bags ahead of you if you want and leave them right outside the door.”

Eddie hesitates, but Buck looks so eager that he finds himself agreeing.

“Sure,” he says, transferring the handles over to Buck. “Thank you.”

“No problem!” he says, heading off towards the elevator with a friendly grin.

After another moment, Maddie just shakes her head and goes to find Ravi so he can swap out the cards, leaving Eddie confused but amused.

It’s not until Eddie really takes a look around the room Maddie had dropped them off in that he realizes what Buck had been up to. When Bobby had hired him, he’d explained that the employees who live on premises have a block of rooms on the second floor, and the rooms were simple but comfortable. Eddie had been more than grateful. But now, looking around the spacious suite with a king bed in the main room as well as a queen bed sectioned off in a separate bedroom, he’s almost certain this was not the room that was originally intended for them.

His thoughts are confirmed when he notes the wide path of clear space en route to the bathroom, which holds both a roll in shower and accessible bathtub with a shower seat and grip-bars along the walls.

“Buck,” he says to himself, eyes stinging unexpectedly at the kindness.

“This is so cool!” Chris says as he wobbles around inspecting the place.

“Yeah, bud,” Eddie agrees, taking a deep breath to steady himself, “it really is.”

His first few months of work go smoothly, to Eddie’s surprise. He plays a lot of Rat Pack and jazz classics, and Maddie croons them all with ease, occasionally sitting atop the piano if she’s feeling particularly dramatic. Eddie studiously avoids looking too long at her admittedly goddess-like figure, both because she’s his friend now and in a serious relationship, and because Eddie is quickly realizing that she’s not the Buckley that’s constantly on his mind.

Chris has quickly made himself the most popular little guy around, befriending employees and guests without discrimination and charming them all, but none more than Buck. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone besides himself fall so swiftly in love with his son than Buck has. It’s honestly so damn cute that Eddie nearly contemplates jumping off the roof to escape the mushy feeling in his chest when he thinks about it.

Buck has taken to hanging out with Chris on the weekends when Eddie works until the lounge closes after midnight, and Eddie more often than not finds them cuddled up and passed out, with an open book sprawled out on Buck’s chest next to Chris. He stops himself every time from taking a picture, but it’s a close thing.

“Wakey wakey,” Eddie says quietly, shaking Buck slightly to rouse him.

“Time’s it?” Buck mumbles around a yawn as he wakes and blinks up at Eddie.

“Just after 1,” Eddie whispers, not wanting to disturb Chris.

“Oh,” Buck says, closing his eyes for just another moment as if he’s too comfortable to even think about moving.

“You have your own bed, Buck,” Eddie says, laughing softly.

Buck grumbles again, but does wiggle out from under the sleeping Chris and presses a kiss to his curls before getting up and following Eddie out into the main room, leaving the bedroom door open just a crack.

“Your beds are more comfortable,” Buck says as he drops down on the little hotel couch. “And my room is so far awaaaay.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie says, fondly. “Your room is literally a floor below ours.”

“Semantics,” Buck says, eyes closed again as he leans back as best he can on the couch.

“And we only have better beds because you made Bobby give us a real guest room,” Eddie says after a moment, finally acknowledging the thought that’s been eating him up for months. Buck’s eyes snap open at that and he gives Eddie a sheepish look.

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Eddie says. “And for the employee disability parking spot pass,” he adds, “the walk up is a lot easier on Chris than the employee lot.”

“Hey that one was all Maddie,” Buck says, before giving him a soft smile. “But you’re welcome. I just wanted to make sure little man was comfortable, and we never seem to need all the accessible suites in use at one time, so it was the obvious thing to do.”

“I don’t think you realize how many people wouldn’t even think of something like that, Buck,” Eddie says, moving to sit next to Buck on the couch, their knees just a few inches apart. “You’re a good guy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck says, flushing with embarrassment. “You’re like my best friend or whatever now,” he says, “gotta make sure you wanna stick around.”

Eddie laughs, giving Buck an incredulous look, as if he’d walk away from the best situation he’s ever fallen into.

“You’re stuck with me now, Buckley,” he says, yawning around the words. “Now you can sleep on this tiny couch if you want, but I’m going to bed. If you don’t want a stiff neck for a week, you should probably go to your own room.”

Buck groans, but nods his head. “Carry me?” he asks, giving Eddie a cheeky grin.

Eddie looks down at all nearly 200 pounds of lean muscle and height of Buck’s and raises an eyebrow.

“All the way to your room?” he laughs, “not likely.”

“You calling me fat, Diaz?” Buck asks, huffing.

“Only that head of yours,” Eddie says, smacking Buck’s head lightly in emphasis. “Go to bed, pendejo.”

“Heey,” Buck whines as he stands up sleepily, “I know what that one means.”

“Go home before I do carry you out,” Eddie says as he also stands, still grinning.

“You wouldn’t make it more than ten feet,” Buck retorts, stretching out his sore shoulders in a way that raises his tshirt just enough to give Eddie a glimpse of the softly muscled abs beneath it.

Eddie gulps and looks away quickly. Buck is his wonderful and kind friend who he doesn’t want to make uncomfortable by leering at. He notes with internal panic that the very big and very comfortable bed is definitely less than ten feet from where they are standing right now.

Eddie laughs awkwardly before holding up his hands in defeat.

“You’re right,” he says, punching Buck lightly on the shoulder. “So take yourself back to your room, He-Man.”

Buck cackles at that and heads for the door, giving Eddie one last look as he opens the door.

“See ya tomorrow, Eds,” he says, clicking the door shut softly behind him.

Eddie lays awake a long time after that, the image of Buck’s sleepy blue eyes keeping him from sleep until exhaustion blessedly takes over.

When Buck finds him one night at an empty table at the restaurant, researching and struggling to find a school for Chris that can handle his needs but that he can also afford, he wordlessly grabs Eddie’s phone and adds a number to his contacts.

“That’s Carla,” he explains. “She kinda worked for an ex of mine when her mom was dying. She can find anything and cut through any red tape, she’s amazing.”

“I can’t just call a random woman and ask her to help me deal with VA benefits and my medically complex child,” Eddie says, too shocked to be anything but honest.

“Of course you can,” Buck says, easily. “I’ll text her now so that she’s not surprised. She’s an angel, really.”

“Takes one to know one,” Eddie says, before he can help himself. “You’re too fucking good to us, Buck.”

“Well,” Buck teases, “some have described my curls as cherubic. But shut up, nothing is too good for you.”

“Oh my god,” they hear, and both look up to see Chim and Hen passing by on the way to the kitchen, heads leaned together in what looks like feverish gossip.

“What’s up with them?” Eddie asks, looking after them in confusion.

Buck just shrugs and gives Eddie a grin.

“No idea. But tomorrow you call Carla, and we’ll get Chris whatever he needs, ok?”

Eddie nods, throat tight, and wills himself not to cry.

“Good man,” Buck says, hopping up from the table. “I have to go fix the tv remote for Mrs. Reynolds on the fifth floor again. Not sure what’s happening with these batteries, they keep going missing.”

“She’s the 60 year old with the leopard print, right?” Eddie asks, laughing.

“Yeah?” Buck asks, “so?”

Eddie shakes his head at his beautifully naïve friend.

“Man, she’s throwing them away so you keep fixing it for her,” he says, “she’s trying to get in your pants.”

“No!” Buck says, eyes wide, “she’s my mom’s age!”

“She’s wandering the desert and you’re a tall drink of water, my friend,” Eddie says, snickering at Buck’s horrified look.

“You’re a terrible person and I hope you choke on the awful gin and tonics you like!” Buck hisses as he walks away.

“Love you too!” Eddie calls out after him, still snickering.

It’s not until many minutes later that he realizes what he’s said, and hopes to any power out there that Buck in his faux-fury hadn’t heard him.

“So,” Buck says late that night, as Eddie lets him in after his quiet knock. “Is Chris asleep?” he asks, looking towards the open bedroom door.

“Chris is staying with Tia Pepa this weekend,” Eddie says, watching as Buck closes and locks the door before turning back to face Eddie.

“Oh,” Buck says, before taking and releasing a deep breath and giving Eddie a nervous grin. “That makes this a little easier then.”

“Makes what..” Eddie asks, before he’s cut off by Buck’s lips on his, his arms snaking around Eddie’s waist and tugging him in.

For a brief terrifying moment, Eddie is frozen in place, entire body stiff as a board. But then Buck pulls away just long enough to press a kiss onto Eddie’s cheek and whisper lowly to him.

“It’s just me,” he says, “it’s ok if you don’t want me, but I had to try.” He brushes his cheek against Eddie’s as he moves to pull away and Eddie snaps out of his frozen state all at once.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment you shook my hand,” Eddie confesses, reaching out to grab Buck’s soft sleep tee in both hands. “I didn’t think I was allowed to have you.”

“Fucking try and get rid of me, Edmundo,” Buck says, leaning down and kissing the scowl at the name off of Eddie’s face before pulling back with a wide grin.

“Never,” Eddie says. “Never ever.” He pauses just long enough to give Buck a little smirk. “Unless you’re terrible in bed.”

“Oh,” Buck says, eyes wide with devious delight, “challenge accepted.”

Turns out, the distance to the bed feels even shorter when Buck lifts him up and practically throws him onto it before following him down.

Suffice to say, Eddie doesn’t mind even one little bit.

Late into the night, when they’re curled around each other in the darkness, Buck grabs one of Eddie’s hands in his own and presses a kiss to the palm of it before tugging it to rest against his own chest.

“Love you, too, by the way,” he says. “And I’m not waiting until you’re walking away to tell you.”

“Not my finest moment,” Eddie admits, leaning in so he can press their foreheads together briefly and nudge Buck’s nose with his own before settling back onto his pillow. “But hey, it all worked out.”

“No arguments there,” Buck agrees, yawning again as they are pulled deeper into the alluring peace of sleep. “No arguments at all.”

The End

[flower1622]

Five: What are you doing in our house?

The Handler: I came to make a deal.

Five: What kind of deal?

The Handler: I want you guys to join me.

Five: No, thanks!

The Handler: Not even for your brother?

Five: What do you mean by that?!

The Handler: We have the one who speaks with the dead. He's such a sweety guy, isn't he? I even found a way to join his life with mine, so if i die, he dies. With Klaus's life connected to mine, my enemies will be your enemies from now on. But, don't worry, he's being taken care of.

Five: Where is he?!

The Handler: Hidden and safe. You can see him after joining me. So, what do you say?

Five and the others look at each other, and then at the Handler.

Five: For Klaus.

Diego: For Klaus.

Ben: For Klaus.

Viktor: For Klaus.

Alison: For Klaus.

Lila: For Klaus.

Luther: No.

Everybody turns to glare at Luther.

Five: Luther!

Luther: I won't. She's evil. I won't become a villain.

The Handler: Poor Klaus, he must be suffering so much right now...

Ben lets his monster out and throws Luther against the wall. Luther stands up, but Diego punches him in the face and in the stomach, making Luther fall on the floor from pain. Five appears in front of him and kicks him hard on his private part. Luther winces from pain and puts his hands on his private part. Five gets Luther by the neck suffocating him and leans over his face.

Five: If Klaus dies because of you, I'm gonna fucking kill you.

Diego: Count me in.

Ben: Me too.

Viktor: Me too.

Lila: Don't forget about me.

Five gets away from Luther and Alison appears in front of his face.

Luther: Alison, please no...

Alison: I heard a rumour that you accepted to join us.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi uh I've finally worked up the courage to submit a request um... Idk if youre still doing like fnaf stuff but i really like those moth animatronic drabbles from security breach of yours so could I request some of those. Like, moth reader is an animtronic specifically designed to calm/comfort people and like the fluffy neck also has some calming scent on it. And. What if they were just chilling somewhere when they found their glamrock-crush having a breakdown. And it's just hugs and comfort.

Glamrock Freddy

You find him shortly after Gregory gets trapped in the locked-down West Arcade, a place where neither of you could be there for him.

Freddy’s just pacing back and forth nonstop, running his battery dry, but he refuses to go to a recharge station, fearing that he won’t be available to help if the kid needed him.

You knew the duo were trying their best to navigate the Plex; you helped them on several occasions. However, the usually confident bear seemed lost with himself. 

Considering Gregory kept getting into more danger at seemingly every turn, Freddy wondered if he was doing the right thing...or if the kid blamed him for all this trouble he was in.

Eventually you get him to stop, but only when his battery gets low and his voice becomes very shaky and glitchy.

Then you just hug him, comforting him with a pheromone releaser. Freddy, in turn, just nuzzles his face against your fluffy neck--which flusters you since he’s your crush and is super close to you, but you knew how badly he needed this hug.

Most importantly, however, he needed you here with him..to reassure him that Gregory will be alright and he’s doing his best.

Roxanne Wolf

You know Roxy’s had her fair share of breakdowns behind the curtains.

But she always hid them from you and everyone else, acting like she’s perfectly fine afterwards.

However, the one time you do hear her crying in her room after a difficult day, you bravely knock on the door, hoping she’ll open up for once.

You knew she liked to pretend she’s tough-as-nails--that’s what you loved most about her--though you wished she wouldn’t force herself to hide it all the time. It made you wonder if she simply didn’t trust you enough.

So you call out to her from the other side, reassuring her that even if she didn’t wanna talk..you wanted to be there for her.

As it turns out, that’s all she needed to hear.

The door opens, and the moment you step inside after it closes behind you, Roxy tackles you and buries her snout into your neck, breaking down all over again.

Any mascara that stains your furry collar might be a pain for your handlers to clean out, but comforting her was most important. 

So you just hold her tightly in your arms.

Montgomery Gator

He may have the toughest shell out of the band, but even that can crack sometimes.

You discover him having one of his usual tantrums in his room, albeit hearing it rather than seeing it due to the construction wall over the glass window.

So you knock on his door, flinching a little as you hear a chair hit it...but afterwards all the thrashing stops and there’s silence.

It slides open rather slowly, sparks coming out of the hinges, though you see the gator sitting in the middle of the destruction, huffing and puffing loudly.

You don’t say a word and instead sit with him, mimicking human breathing (an anti-anxiety feature preinstalled with you that helps people calm down from panic attacks) until he manages to breathe in-sync with you.

While Monty doesn’t wanna talk about why he was in such a bad mood, he does lean against you and nuzzle his snout into your fur, taking in your scent as he closes his eyes.

He hesitates to hug you..worried he’ll accidentally crush you, but you reassure him it’s okay.

Glamrock Chica

For a chicken who seems to have limitless energy, you’d never think she would worry about anything.

Though being only one of the two og band members left can be stressful at times...something that Chica fears won’t last forever. But ofc she doesn’t wanna think about the inevitability of her replacement.

So she usually turns to her comfort foods in times of need, but if those don’t help...then there’s a serious problem with her current mental state.

In that case, she’ll actively seek you out, as you’re both close friends and she knew you never judged her.

You simply comfort her and allow her to nuzzle your furry collar and/or run her fingers through the fluff as she chatters.

Sometimes your presence is enough to bring tears to her eyes as she lets the mask slip, knowing she doesn’t have to put up a front around you.

She cheers everyone else up, but it’s nice to have someone like that for herself.

[holylulusworld]

The story

Summary: She's not going to let him down.

Pairing: TFATW!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, self-loathing, Bucky feels not worth being loved, written in Bucky’s PoV, fluff

A/N: Inspired by the song “The Story” by Brandi Carlile. Lyrics are taken from the song.

Sequel to: Ruined

No one wants to hear my story. I get it. I’m a relic from the past most people want to forget about.

Why think about dark times and the monsters I worked for? Or what I had to endure.

Even my best friend, the man I considered my brother, left me to go back to better times.

Steve wanted to live the dream he believed he wanted. He didn’t care that I had to hold his hand when he died. 

I’m stuck in this world, with my past hanging over me like a dark cloud. There is nothing I can do about it. 

The only light in my life is her. She makes the world brighter, and my life bearable.

Sometimes I believe I’m not attractive enough for her. I have lines across my face, and scars litter my body and mind. 

She’s perfect, looking like an angel. Every man turns their head when she enters a room. I always wonder why she chose me.

My girl left this perfect guy. He had it all. The looks, a shit-ton of money, and a good reputation. I can’t even hate him. It’s not his fault that my life got fucked up so bad that I can’t even sleep.

No wonder he fought tooth and nail and even played dirty to get her back. He spread rumors and lies about me, and Sam. Telling everyone we turned dark and tried to extort him. 

Y/N refused to go back to him. She even sent the huge diamond ring I’ll never be able to afford back to him. My girl told him to fuck off and grow up.

Still, I hate the man I see in the mirror. He’s not the cocky man going to war, or dancing with the ladies.

I feel like my body and soul are scared so badly that I’m not going to heal. And I don’t mean my missing arm, and the pain I feel most days.

“Baby,” her soft voice brings me out of my thoughts. She breaks the endless circle of self-loathing once again. “Stop it right now.”

Y/N wraps her arms around my waistline from behind. She dips her head to look at me in the mirror. “I love you the way you are,” Y/N says and kisses the scar tissue around my metal arm. “There is not a single thing I’d change about you, baby.”

“Y/N,” I stare at the man in the mirror as she steps next to me to take my hand. “I—”

“Look again, B,“ she says. “For me. I want you to see the man I see.”

I exhale sharply and drop my gaze. It’s so hard to look at myself and like what I see. 

“What do you see in me? I’m…no good.”

“Bucky, look again,” she squeezes my hand, holding it tightly. “Please…”

I lift my gaze, and oddly I see a different man. 

All of these lines across my face Tell you the story of who I am So many stories of where I've been And how I got to where I am

The longer I stare at myself, the more I see.

I see the young man, full of dreams, who tries to lift his small and weak friend up. 

I see the soldier, becoming a man during endless nights spent in fear of getting killed.

I see the prisoner, praying that the monsters capturing him end his life.

I see the man, freed of his shackles as his best friend became a hero.

I see the man fighting alongside Captain America. Brave and fierce.

I see the wounded man, torn apart and put back together by the enemy.

I see the Winter Soldier.

I see the man buying plums first thing after he escaped his handlers.

I see the man fighting alongside his best friend.

I see the man losing it all again.

I see the man finding love when he is about to give up.

“I’m nothing without you, doll. You helped me become this man too,” I dip my head to glance at my girl. “I want you to look at yourself too and see the woman I see.”

She smiles, and we look at the mirror again. Together.

But these stories don't mean anything When you've got no one to tell them to It's true, I was made for you

“You came a long way, Bucky,” she says. “I know that there are still things you don’t want to talk about. But if you are ready, I’ll be here to hold your hand. Always.”

“Always.”

Tags in reblog.

[sithbvcky]

HAZY SHADE OF WINTER .01

"Time, time, time, see what's become of me." Bucky's attempt at hiding after the events in Washington don't go as planned when a ghost from his past reappears, Bucky will have to make a terrible choice. Bucky x female mutant oc Word Count: 735 MASTERLIST

SIBERIA

“We’ve lost him!” 

“What do you mean we lost him?” 

“He hasn’t returned to his handlers, sir. His last known whereabouts were traced to he heli-carrier which crashed into the river. No body has been recovered.” 

“His programming has been compromised, he must be returned and wiped before it’s too late.” 

“How shall we proceed sir?”

“Prep Liho. It’s time for her to prove her reputation.” 

WASHINGTON D.C. (post fall of S.H.E.I.L.D)

“I’m warning you, Rogers, you might not want to pull on that thread.” Natasha turned with a swing of her red hair and left. Steve held the file in his hands, the file that contained information on his best friend and what had happened since they had last been together. 

“You’re going after him, aren’t you?” Sam questioned, hands in his pockets. 

“He’s my friend, I have to.” Steve stated. 

“I’m coming with you.” Sam said. Steve nodded. 

—————

BUCHAREST, ROMANIA 2016

The streets of the city were bustling. People moving about their daily routines, it was easy for him to blend in. To become one of them, though he wasn’t. He spoke the language, he bought from local markets and returned to his small apartment, as normal a routine as anyone else. No one would suspect he was in hiding. No one would suspect he wasn’t sure who he was. He was good at it. Too good. For as long as he could remember it was all he knew how to do. Infiltrate. Extract. Execute. No mistakes. No loose ends. Don’t be seen. Don’t be heard. Now he was in limbo. The life he once knew was not his own, he understood that now. He didn’t want to return to it, he’d rather die than go back. 

Finishing his trip to the local market, returning to his humble one bedroom apartment with a bag of plums, he found someone waiting for him. A man he’d seen before. The man in D.C. He was reading through his notebook, the one he’d used to scribble down anything he could remember. Any fragment of the man he used to be. The man turned, 

“Do you know who I am?” He asked. 

“You’re Steve. I met you on the bridge.” 

“I want to help you, Buck.” Steve said, closing the notebook and setting it down on the shabby kitchen table. Bucky set down the bag of plums, 

“You can’t.” He muttered. 

“Listen, there are people who will try to find you. Try to use you. You’re not safe.” Steve continued. 

“I know.” Was Bucky’s reply. Steve furrowed his brow, looking at his friend who at one time would run charging into any battle. He now stood before him a shell of that man. Steve opened his mouth to speak again when Bucky interrupted, 

“You’re here to get me back to your base, where you’ll say I’ll be safe.” Bucky shook his head. 

“I won’t be safe anywhere.” He looked down at the floorboards beneath them. 

“Buck, listen to me. I can help you, but you have to let me.” Steve pleaded. Bucky looked back at Steve when the sound of gunshots and screams echoed from the staircase. Sam chimed in Steve’s ear, 

“You got company.” 

Steve looked at Bucky as if to say “it’s time to go”. Bucky punched a hole through the floor with his metal arm and snatched a backpack out of it. More gunshots ricocheted outside in the hall, more screams until they stopped. Steve and Bucky both watched the door to the apartment carefully for whatever was on the other side. The door burst open with incredible, inhuman force.    A woman dressed in tight black clothes stood in the doorway. She lifted her head, cocking it to one side as if mocking them. She splayed her arms outwards, objects in the apartment began to lift into the air. 

“Go!” Steve commanded, as the woman launched various household items at him. Bucky didn’t hesitate, jumping out the window and landing on the rooftop below. Steve blocked most of the onslaught with his shield, until he felt it being pulled from him by an invincible force. He strained against her power, charging forward to land a blow against her with the shield. The invisible pull stopped and Steve turned and ran, following Bucky’s route.

“Sam, we got a problem.” 

“What kind of problem?” 

“The mutant kind.” 

“Shit.” 

[connoisseursdecomfort]

A mini character analysis on Twilight/Loid/[redacted]

As much as I am a tiny bit sad that Loid is still not having that reflection I want him to have after the last arc, I think I will have to remind myself something I posted somewhere else:

“The problem is, Twilight is inching towards his hidden self, [redacted], instead of running towards being ‘Loid’. As much as we want to believe that [redacted] is closer to ‘Loid’ in nature, and that he could have become ‘Loid’ if war didn’t happen, ‘Loid’ is still a work persona created by Twilight to complete Operation Strix. This persona allowed Twilight to ‘love’, but it is also a constant reminder that it is a facade. ‘Loid’ was a middle ground for Twilight to get back in touch with [redacted]. But now it has become a battleground where Twilight and [redacted] are having a standoff.”

I’ll be as patient as I can be.

(Manga spoilers ahead: and an analysis of ch.77)

I see people on twitter saying that everything we love about Loid has gone downhill since ch.62. I don’t necessarily think so because we have ch.68, but it is kinda true he doesn’t seem to get much development on the dad/husband department since the end of the cruise arc. To a point that people started to be angry at him and Endo since ch.75.

Loid has been in this utter confusion since the cruise arc. Before that, he doesn’t realise he has this confusion - he has been able to use the excuse, you know, Loid “for the mission” Forger, to justify everything. The cruise arc is really the first time he’s not on the mission. Basically it takes 50 chapters for Endo to finally ask Loid this important question, “What if it’s not for the mission?”

This poor man has been confused ever since, like in ch.76:

This is, of course, just this stupid man’s way of asking if he’s a good enough father for Anya for the mission. But it doesn’t go away easily. He has been a spy for more than a decade. And before that he was alone for years. Being a Forger for only three months is not going to reverse that many years of trauma.

But his true self is winning. Has been winning since ch.62. He still tries to rationalise everything using his spy radar, and somehow he ends up being absolutely genuine.

In ch. 62, right after this scene where he deliberately reminded himself that this is “Loid’s” house:

He somehow chose to be a real dad instead of being a good spy:

And the same thing happened again in ch.66:

Sandwiched between all the spy-talks he had in his head, there is this transparent bubble. This is also the bubble that convinces me that he knows she is keeping secrets, but somehow he doesn’t care. But this is for another day.

His head says spy, but his actions always speak otherwise.

Endo loves to play with the idea of misinformation. He blatantly said in the fanbook that the info Franky has on the Garden is an exaggerated version of it, and is not accurate. The more obvious example would be the Handler’s arc in Ch.63. This is a story about secrets and lies, but there is a grain of truth in all the lies these characters tell us. Especially Loid “for the mission” Forger. From day 1 we knew Twilight’s a liar and a very cool one. But somehow Endo also makes him to be this genuine and sincere man. And he also needs therapy.

So Endo shows us how much he really needs therapy, just look at all these similarities, like this:

Ch.77

Ch.62.3

Or this: Ch.77

Ch.22

Ch.67.1

But the real fear is always this: am I worthy for the family? Does she feel that I am worthy enough?

Ch. 77

For Loid “for the mission” Forger, this basically translates to, my wife and daughter are upset my mission is failing because I’m not good enough I’m a bad spy. He has hit himself with this “bad spy! bad spy!” mentality so many times, it’s basically a running gag now.

Ch.10

Ch.17.5

Ch.29

Okay I give up finding every single panel of him panicking because it’s too much. But I think you get it.

Mr. Austin is so obviously a foil for Loid. As the therapy unfolds, we were trying to figure Loid out just as Loid tried hard to figure Mr. Austin out.

Loid even asked the same question we want to ask him:

Isn’t that exactly why people are mad at him now? Is he lying to himself when he says for the mission, or is he just lying to us the whole damn time? 

I think the problem is that we are all expecting Loid to be his actual persona. And it could be. But Ch.62 is also reminding all of us that “Loid” is something invented by Twilight. Even Twilight is something invented. By [redacted]. We love Loid. We kinda like Twilight, mostly because he’s hot af. But do we like [redacted], the man with all the flaws and merits Loid and Twilight have?

You see, like father, like daughter. Anya and [redacted] really don’t know what normality is. In Ch. 76:

And in Ch. 77:

They really don’t know what it is like to be a normal family, although they are already in one, and they sure feel very loved.

Remember back in Ch.10/Ep.7, when he said this: “I wonder what it’d feel like to have a real family.” This really is Endo asking [redacted] the same question, “What if this is not for the mission? What if you are in a real family?”

And [redacted] still doesn’t know the answer, although the answer is really there right from the start. He is this stupid, stupid man, who’s also absolutely traumatised and utterly confused. But you know what? If this is a story about recovery and rediscovery, then:

[willowhaired]

Fresh Start

Jeb Pyre × Reader

Summary: After shutting the case of the Lafferty brothers, Jeb finds it difficult to find his place in the church - so much so that he divorces his wife and starts anew in Boulder, Colorado. What he didn't expect was a pretty evidence handler at the Boulder PD.

(Please note that in this story Jeb has no children.)

Word count: 3,381

Warnings: mentions of religion, swearing, a bit steamy but nothing explicit

After shutting the case, Jeb tried his best to re-integrate into his community. To at least "sing the song", even if he no longer believed the words, as his partner suggested - but he was still eyed with suspicion and the forceful kindness of his fellow churchgoers became sickening. He felt as if he was tested, and they pressured him into recanting his beliefs at every opportunity. It was the worst with his wife who got him promising he'd stay faithful to the church whenever she felt uneasy, which was more often than he liked. He could see her mind turn whenever they were in the same room as if he was under constant surveillance. It angered him, but he knew showing it would throw him into a pit even deeper.

Things in the bedroom were terrible. Beca was insistent on conceiving, and he didn't blame her for it. He knew what it meant to her. Still, he was growing tired of having sex - a thing which he'd never thought was possible for a man. Somehow, whatever trick or new lingerie his wife would try just made him desire her even less. Whenever he couldn't perform, he'd blame it on work, but that opened a whole can of worms he didn't want to talk about. Arguments were frequent and even calm days were disturbed at least by a quarrel.

He got out when his mother passed. By then, the tension was palpable, not only in his marriage, but in the church. Eyes were even wider and glued to him - they expected him to turn to his faith in a time of need as such.

But he finally felt free. He divorced his wife, leaving her in shame, and the bishop was quick to retaliate by excommunicating him.

He was finally free.

He moved to Boulder, Colorado, to escape his own home, the cocoon. It was only natural that Taba followed him.

'You could stay, you know?' Jeb said one day as they were having lunch together. He bought fries.

'And be left in the snake pit alone? Not a chance.'

It made Jeb smile. He'd never conceal the amount of relief this gave him. Because he was afraid. As much as he wanted to get out, the newness of the "outside world" scared him. To have his friend by his side on this new journey gave him hope.

They both got a job at the Boulder Police Department and Jeb quickly became a favourite among his superiors and fellow officers. With no family and a pain to drown, he was always first to apply for night shifts, weekends, especially holidays. He poured his all into work.

'You are becoming a bit of a workaholic,' Bill noted on one Christmas Eve. There was a snowstorm outside, unlike anything else he had seen in Utah.

'You are here with me every time,' Jeb pointed out, watching the wind raging outside.

'Yes, but I'm not staying overtime,' his partner adjusted himself in his seat. It was getting to him not being able to smoke because of the crazy weather. 'Besides, you're young. You should find yourself someone.'

'I have you.'

'I'm flattered, but I don't like you like that,' Taba chuckled but was met with the mortified stare of his fellow detective. A lifetime of conditioning is difficult to weed out.

'What I'm saying is,' he started again. 'This is a new town. Maybe there's someone who tickles your fancy.'

Jeb honestly doubted that. He didn't find anyone interesting, and even if he had, he wouldn't be ready to open up.

That was until you came along.

You were the new evidence handler, archiving and organising everything the officers brought along, let it be testimonies or physical evidence. You were young and sweet which didn't sit right with him: he didn't want you to look at all the darkness that was out there in the world. He reckoned you should be protected from it, living in a bubble, not having your delicate features be degraded away by the horrors.

But above all, you were incredibly attractive. He saw other police officers trying to charm you or readily offer their help whenever there was an evidence box that "looked a little too heavy". Even Bill got into a harmless banter with you on occasion - you were easy on the eyes, he said, and Jeb agreed, though not out loud.

He could feel his heart in his throat whenever you passed by, and there was an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach whenever you arrived at work. Looking at you felt like a sin.

It just so happened that the two of you were very similar. Even if it meant staying longer, you'd get all the handwritten notes typed in, each piece of evidence filed away correctly. Before leaving, you cleaned your desk, despite it being a catastrophe the whole day.

It was a Thursday night and the detective was about to leave to check out a crime scene. On his way out, he spotted you, at your desk, still lost in paperwork. He checked the clock and then outside: it was already dark.

'It's getting late,' he announced as he stepped to you.

'Oh, it's alright,' you shrugged. 'Just a few more things to file away.'

He contemplated for a second before turning to a young officer:

'Deputy Jones, when Miss Y/L/N is done with her work could you give her a ride home?'

'That's really not necessary,' you knew you were blushing and you didn't want to cause any trouble to anyone.

''Course, Sir,' Deputy Jones said without hesitation. Jeb nodded to the deputy and left you with an "Evening" and completely confused.

That night, he could not sleep. He worried you might not have been escorted home, or worse, took a liking to the young deputy. He should've taken you home himself.

Even though he was head over heels for you, you got the impression that he did not like you. He was cold, distant and you'd never seen him smile in your presence. When he dropped off any evidence, he seemed as though he was trying to escape the soonest possible.

'Five forged checks and interrogation of two witnesses,' you scanned through the documents on your desk, then flashed a warm smile at him. 'Anything else?'

'No, thank you,' he replied quickly, his mouth more crooked than ever.

You watched him walk to his office. It was a shame, really, upsetting, even. For one, you never gave any reason for him to hate you, and besides… You found him incredibly handsome.

He was eyeing you from his office, sometimes glancing in the direction of Jones, even though it was a few weeks after that incident. Jeb made it a point to avoid you, but couldn't fool his partner.

'I don't blame you for liking her,' he flipped the page in the folder of their current case. 'I would be surprised if you didn't.'

'I've never felt this way,' Jeb admitted nervously. His friend had a smug grin on his face before it turned serious.

'Look, you should make your move soon. Nobody is blind in this department.'

It was this conversation that ultimately pushed him to ask you out. It was a few days later, and all of your colleagues had left already. You were still finishing up some tasks and he tried to do his own, but his nerves wouldn't let him concentrate. Finally, he gave in.

'Are you staying for longer?' Jeb had to swallow for he felt like his throat was going to close up.

'No, I'm packing away for tonight.'

'Do you… Need a ride home?' He asked, then quickly added: 'I can take you.'

'Oh, I… Don't wanna cause you any trouble,' you chuckled nervously and pushed the last folder to its place.

'I insist.'

'Well, okay,' you gave in sheepishly and grabbed your coat.

The drive home was even more awkward, if possible. You tried to strike up a conversation but he hardly replied. He sat stiffly behind the wheel and kept his eyes on the road. He parked just outside your apartment complex.

'You know, Detective Pyre, you don't have to take me home.'

'I just like to know you're safe.'

'Anyway,' you said quickly over the sound of your loud heartbeat. 'Thank you for the ride.'

You were about to step out of the car when he blurted out:

'Can I take you out for dinner sometime?'

You turned back and were muted by surprise.

'You can say no if you don't want to,' he felt as if he was being suffocated by his own tie so he pulled it looser.

'Yes,' you hurried your answer. 'This Saturday?'

'Perfect. Pick you up at 7.'

Friday, he was a mess. If it was possible, he avoided contact with you even more which left you doubting he ever asked you out. The truth was, he didn't know how to react. You made him feel such emotions he was unfamiliar with; was he supposed to just wave at you as he passed by when he felt his insides burning with the heat of a thousand suns?

'Bill, I need your help,' Jeb closed the door of their office behind him. 'I'm taking Y/N on a date tomorrow.'

'Does she know?' His partner teased, but as Jeb replied with such exasperation, he knew this was no time for jokes.

'Of course!'

'So you finally asked her out. What do you need me for?'

'I'm nervous,' he leant to his desk and pulled his hand across his face. 'I can't even look at her.'

Bill glanced out towards you: 'I think she looks pretty, still.'

'Don't do that,' his friend begged defeatedly.

'Jeb,' Bill looked at him. 'Do me a favour and relax. Just be yourself.'

'What if the church thing freaks her out? What if I make a fool of myself?'

'There's no way around it, pal,' he shrugged. 'Sooner or later, she will know. Don't worry, I haven't seen her eat anyone. Try and enjoy it.'

It was easier said than done.

Jeb knew he was done for right as he picked you up on Saturday. You had a black dress on that hugged your body, and your shoulders were bare for you had your hair in a bun. Inside of him was a raging battle between what his former church made him think about your attire and what he felt. He was hoping he could forget about both, and most importantly not mention his past, but it was unavoidable.

'No, I… I have never drunk.'

'You haven't?' You asked in disbelief. 'Surely you were a teenager at some point.'

'Yeah,' he chuckled. 'I grew up in a very strict church. Alcohol was forbidden.'

'So it wasn't the kinda wine tasting that disguised itself as Sunday church, huh?' You joked. 'Are you still part of this church? Should I not drink?'

'No, no,' he shook his head. 'I was excommunicated. I no longer hold those beliefs.'

'So…' you swirled the wine around in your glass. 'Why don't you drink?'

'I guess old habits die hard.'

'Do you want a taste? It's sweet wine. If you like lemonade, you're gonna love this.'

You held your glass towards him and he took you up on your offer. His movements were sheepish, almost fearful as he held the glass to his lips and took a small sip. It really was sugary, with an uncanny resemblance to the way he felt about you: sweet but intoxicating. Throughout the dinner you shared a few glasses, most of which you drank, but he was finally easing up by the alcohol. Jeb felt his stomach warm from the wine; he was more comfortable with his feelings towards you, while also finding it harder to keep them in control. Your eyes seemed even more alluring and your cheeks were tinted red from the alcohol. He found it cute and smiled dumbly at you throughout the whole night; and honestly, with him opening up, you really enjoyed yourself. Not only that, you realised that you did actually like him: he was kind and wholesome and made such intelligent remarks you knew he was listening to your every word. You joked and gently poked his hand and his eyes lit up like a teenage boy's. He tried to (very seriously) pick out the notes of the wine, only to add at the end that it mostly just smelled like alcohol. He accidentally kicked you under the table and you teased him whether you were getting friendly.

You had your fingers crossed that the effects of the wine would stretch into the workdays.

But apparently, you spoke too soon.

'Thank you for the night, Jeb, I really enj…' you could barely open your mouth when he stopped the car at your home, and his lips were on yours. His left hand came up from the gearshift to cup your face as his quick, eager kiss was followed by a deeper one. You leant closer to him and rested your hand on his thigh. You got so lost in the sensations (the scent of his cologne, how his tongue explored your mouth against yours, or how it ran across your lips every once in a while), that you didn't know how much time had passed. Was it minutes or half an hour?

'I'm sorry,' he broke away abruptly. 'I can't do this.'

You couldn't really comprehend his words.

'I… I don't think I'm ready for this,' he followed, seeing your puzzled expression.

'We can take it slower,' you chuckled.

'It's not about that,' his body was turned away from you. 'I can't be with you.'

Honestly, this left you in shock. You don't remember if you said anything or just left the car - the whole thing didn't make sense. He was the one asking you out, the date went well, he came in for a kiss… Which was amazing.

You were confused, and above all, hurt. You thought that there must've been something so wrong with you for him to turn you down like this.

When Jeb told Bill about the date, his friend's first excitement died away as he heard how the night ended.

'What's wrong with you?' Bill asked, almost angrily. 'That date was going great and you chose to close it like a teen girl who hasn't fucked before?'

'Language!' The other hissed.

'That girl likes you. You come to me worried you'd screw up the date but you did it in such a way I would've never imagined.'

'It's not easy, Bill. I was raised to believe everything I've just done is a sin. Even though I no longer think the same, I…' he ran his fingers through his hair. 'Can't help but feel that it's wrong.'

His partner seized him up, sighing out the frustration he felt.

'I guess I understand. You do what you feel comfortable with. But she'd be good for you.'

But would I be good for her - Jeb pondered, staring at the papers in front of him.

That was until an office party: his colleagues pressured him into beer after beer, so he'd already had more than he should've. Then, you arrived - late, but no less beautiful. The cream dress you had on was a lot more modest than the form-fitting one you had on during the date, yet its satin fabric draped on your body perfectly. You looked better than ever, which he never thought was possible: your smile was charming and your eyes twinkled in the decorative lights - though he couldn't help but notice that you carefully avoided his direction.

The other officers were quick to bring you your favourite drink and they'd made it a competition who would make you laugh louder. Hearing your chuckles turned his blood bitter, and he kept shifting between chewing the inside of his mouth and adjusting his lips.

'And you, Detective Pyre? Anyone special?' A fellow officer asked.

'Who? Me?' He said, half-stupefied, then chuckled, his eyes on the table. 'No, no one.'

To be fair, since the failed date, you had been avoiding him just as he did with you. You gave a cryptic description of the date to your friends, and your colleagues knew nothing of the encounter: they merely concluded that Jeb's past hunted him, and that's why he was so uncomfortable in your presence.

Maybe they were closer to the truth than anyone thought.

You accompanied some officers out for a cigarette; you were craving some fresh air and the cold of the night on your cheeks. You borrowed a cigarette from Detective Taba to take the edge off.

'You, dear, look prettier every day,' he took a long drag from his cigarette after lighting yours. 'Is there a gentleman you saw before coming here?'

'Nah,' you smiled sheepishly as if the suggestion itself was ridiculous. 'I was looking after an old relative and my cousin arrived late to take over.'

'Don't act so innocent,' he scorned with a grin and gestured with his cigarette. 'I bet you make every man turn anywhere you walk by.'

He wasn't wrong: you only had to take some letters to the post office to come back with a date for the next day, but lately, all you had on your mind was the kiss from a certain detective. Even at work, especially after seeing him, your thoughts would slip from your grip to morph into his firm grip on your waist or the unmatching tenderness of his lips. You'd mistyped witness names and found that you had catalogued a set of crime scene photographs into the wrong folder. You were incredibly embarrassed, despite the officers only laughing at these mishaps, reassuring you that they happened more often than ever with you.

So, you avoided Jeb's eyes, knowing that their dark brown colour would melt you right on sight.

Even though Bill was nudging him every ten minutes to go up to you, Jeb couldn't bring himself to do it. All night, he had been imagining how your dress would fall from your shoulders if he'd unzipped it and how soft your skin would feel under it - softer than the satin itself, he was sure.

The air of the venue grew heavy with each passing minute. Jeb resolved to peel the stickers from the beers, while you were constantly entertained by at least two of your coworkers. They were all respectful, although sometimes a bit loud. You needed a few moments of peace; so you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Once on your way back, you bumped into him.

'Hey,' you forced a smile.

'How you're doing?'

'Good, good. And you?'

'Pretty wasted,' Jeb admitted with a chuckle and after a brief pause (during which he stared long into your eyes and your legs began to feel like jello), he brushed a few hairs that got stuck in your mouth behind your ear. You got a whiff of his cologne, something you only caught once or twice when he brought evidence bags to your table. It always left you spellbound.

'I'm so sorry about that night.'

'Don't be,' you said. 'It was an amazing date.'

Jeb was only half-there, his thumb brushed the edge of your lip.

'Until the end I suppose,' he said dreamily, as if not even to you.

'Do you like me?' You asked abruptly.

'I'm fucking mad about you.'

His answer threw your head in a spin. You grabbed his tie and pulled him into a kiss which he reciprocated with a groan. His hands quickly found the small of your back from which one ran up into your hair. Unconsciously, he gripped a handful of your locks to pull your head back and give him better access to your lips. You were rendered weak with a wave of emotion but this very same thing reminded you where you were and that any second colleague could appear.

You cupped his face and gently pulled away.

'Maybe this is not the best place…'

'No, it isn't,' he agreed. 'I want to make it up to you. Please, let me take you on another date.'

'I'm free on Sunday.'

'Well, not anymore.'