#all energy is going towards walking on eggshells every damn day

[rpmemes-galore]

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[itsallmightbitch]

Stitches (Part One)

Villain!Might is annoyingly sexy. God damn. Part One of two, because once again, it was getting way, way too long. The real smut is in part two but this has it’s fair share of naughtiness. *once again the gif is not mine

Pairing: Villain!Might x Reader

Rating: Explicit (Dry humping and dirty talk)

Warnings: Blood, Bad Language

Word Count: 7633 

Summary: It turns out that being injured on the job makes the biggest villain in Japan undeniably horny. If only he would quit being so handsy, maybe you could finish his goddamn stitches. 

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You were only just getting used to having All Might stumble in to your apartment at all hours of the day or night.

 Only. Just.

 That didn’t mean you bloody enjoyed it though! Considering the amount of times it happened a week you should probably just give him a key- but there was little chance of him using it when he seemed so content in picking the lock anyway.

 It was sort of like a power play. A ‘look how easily I can break in’ kind of thing.

 In the beginning it had been an intimidation ploy and fuck, had it worked. You’d walked on eggshells for weeks until it slowly dawned on you that he was simply having a little fun on your behalf. Breaking in at all fucking hours to loudly watch TV and drink your goddamn milk like he owned the place.

 Scaring the absolute bejesus out of you when you went for water in the middle of the night and he was sitting in the dark like an absolute creep.

 He did that one a lot. Informed you that your reaction was absolutely priceless and he couldn’t help himself.

 You’d threatened to overdose him on morphine when he was asleep.

 Quid pro quo.

 Now… his intrusions had become more of a semi-welcome occurrence slash inconvenience.

 After much nagging and complaining on your part, when you felt confident that he had no real desire to murder you in your sleep of course, he’d stopped being such a prick when he came around and if you were honest, it was kind of nice.

 It would be less nice if any heroes or the police caught wind of you harbouring Japan’s Number One Villain but that was a thought best left for when the time came. Your less than legal activities for the criminal class hadn’t been sussed out in the six years you’d been here and you doubted that any of them were planning on ratting out one of their few sources of medical attention any time soon.

 Speaking of medical attention…

 All Might was certainly not welcome when he was bleeding like a stuck pig all over your new hardwood floor.

 He was framed in the low light of the hallway behind him, although he nearly blocked it out as he filled out the doorway with his wide shoulders. One large hand gripped the door jamb and the other crossed his chest, clenched over a wound you couldn’t see.

 But you could see the blood pouring from it- seeping out between his fingers and soaking through the tattered remains of the shirt he’d been wearing.

 His breathing was hard, eyes dark and guarded and the rain had flattened his hair to his head, making him look absolutely manic.

 “Oh my God!” were your only words, fear suddenly coursing through you as you lunged from where you’d been sitting- only stopping inches from him and praying that he could make it to the couch by himself. There was no way you could carry that much weight alone and the thought of calling for reinforcements should he pass out was less than appealing.

 The only people you really knew were criminals or your parents. You could see how that conversation would play out and it didn’t end well.

 The hand he’d been using to stem the blood flow fell from his shoulder and red splattered in a line in front of your socked feet. You took a step back as he ducked under the doorway, effectively inviting himself in.

 “What happened!?” you balked, moving out of his path and shutting the door behind him. A cursory glance told you that there was no-one else around, thankfully.

 “Bad business,” he grunted, steadying himself on a dining chair- although the wood creaked worryingly under his thick fingers.

 “Bad business,” you repeated incredulously, your voice tinged with mild exasperation at just how easily he could brush off an entrance like that with such a throwaway remark. He shot you a warning glance that you heeded. It was the most you’d probably get out of him so you didn’t attempt to pry further as he trudged tiredly towards the comfort of your couch.

 For now, at least, you would leave it at that.

 He sat down gingerly, learning from past experiences that throwing his weight around was likely to end with yet another broken bit of furniture and you calling him all the names under the sun. He didn’t look like he quite had the energy for your usual snarky banter.

 “Good to know you’re as enlightening as ever,” you frowned, following behind him and flicking on another lamp as you went. You would need plenty of light for what was about to come next. He sank into the soft couch cushions with a sigh of relief that he probably wouldn’t have made if he wasn’t gushing blood from his shoulder.

 “Shit,” you said, panicked suddenly at the sight of it coating almost every inch of his chest and arm. While you couldn’t see underneath his shoulder armour, you could guess that it was slick and red as well. His usually golden complexion was pale but besides that, there weren’t any other marks on him..

 Sucking in a deep steadying breath, you pushed away the encroaching panic.

 You were a medical professional, for fuck sake. Blood was basically a daily occurrence and the fact that it was suddenly pouring out of him of all people, shouldn’t make a difference.

 Except it did and deep in your stomach, panic still flitted around and made you quiver uneasily.

 “Let me see how bad it is,” you said, a tremor to your voice. But you made no room for an argument as serious mode was firmly engaged. Despite all he was to the rest of the world, you really didn’t want his stupid ass to die.

 He nodded stoically, recognising that you were now in your professional frame of mind and that acting up would only make treating him more awkward. Though his dark gaze still fixed on your face as you gingerly tugged the ruined edges of his shirt aside.

 You pulled in a hiss of air between your teeth initially, but the more you explored the less you wanted to freak out.

 Despite the superficial shock from the sight of so much blood, your stomach settled it’s uncomfortable rolling as you gauged the seriousness of his injury. The gash was fairly deep but not enough to bare the bone of his clavicle- and you guessed that the amount of blood he was covered in was a result of adrenaline and disregard for the injury as he fought.

 “How bad does it hurt? Do you need something for the pain?” you asked, not look at him and you tried to move his shoulder pad away gently. The thing weighed a tonne though and you had little success.

 He scoffed, pushing you away with a stern look followed by a cocky sneer.

 “Don’t be an idiot. I enjoy the pain,” he rumbled, staring you down as if daring you to disagree.

 You did more than dare. He wasn’t big bad All Might when he was in your fucking domain and sometimes he needed reminding of that.

 “Oh really?” you levelled a look at him. “So, doing this doesn’t hurt at all?”

 Without warning, you poked his shoulder just to the left of his injury and he yowled, infuriated and pained at the same time. His whole body stiffened in agony and his yelping quickly morphed into a half growl, low and dangerous- like you’d awakened the dormant dragon from his slumber.

 His eyes flashed and he bared his teeth in a snarl at you, a wounded animal trying to hide behind his bluster and bravado.

 “You fucking bitch,” he snapped, hand covering the gash once more as though you were about to go in for a second attack.

 Instead of cowering in fear like you had the first time he’d ever darkened your doorway, you simply rolled your eyes at his brutish behaviour. This arrogant showboating of his wasn’t new to you. Nor was he even remotely intimidating when he was clearly in pain.

 Hell, he hadn’t even attempted to get up from the welcoming comfort of the couch and so you weren’t particularly concerned for your physical safety.

 All Might- around you at least- was all bark and no bite. You clicked your tongue at him, as though admonishing him.

 “Language you big jerk. Show your doctor a little respect.”

 The look he shot you would have cowed a lesser man and had sent heroes in the opposite direction pissing themselves in fear.

 You patted his cheek fondly instead.

 “Don’t be a big baby,” you murmured, smirking as you wandered towards your kitchen in search of your supplies. “I’ll get you some bourbon. I still have that top-shelf shit you left here a few months ago.”

 His bellyaching abruptly settled into an irritated grumbling when he realised that you hadn’t meant your run of the mill Advil and instead meant ‘booze’. He still said something under his breath as you went though, sullen and annoyed at his current predicament and determined to get the last word in as always.

 You kind of sympathised? Maybe?

 It wasn’t often that he came to you with a serious injury. Usually it was for shrapnel damage or the odd burn when he was less than careful around Endeavor- which again, wasn’t often. You’d never had to really worry about him before, even if he seemed determined to make you.

 But it was fun to tease him now that the fear had abated and your mind was a little less on red alert.

 You left him sitting there, your cat staring up at him with big curious eyes, while you headed towards the kitchen.

 “You’ll give me sympathy, won’t you Marco?” he said, loudly enough for you to hear as you rounded the corner. You rolled your eyes.

 After pulling the bottle from your cupboard and setting it aside, you rounded on an indiscriminate blank wall- the one that separated your kitchen and hallway. Eyeing it for a moment, you lightly rested the pads of your fingers in the centre. It felt warm from the thrumming mechanism underneath and a soft beep, followed by a click, informed you that it was now unlocked.

 The panel compressed inwards by a quarter inch and you used your fingertips to slide it to one side, your face now illuminated by a soft blue light. God bless your satisfied customers, you smirked as you surveyed the medical equipment now on display.

 You had everything from sterilised needles to IV bags, scalpels to a portable defibrillator.

 It wasn’t as though you didn’t have all of this shit legally. But having a place to hide it made things easier when you wanted to pretend you were a normal, run of the mill citizen to your (very few) friends and family. They assumed, quite wrongly, that your medical career had been left behind in the army.

 You gathered what you would need, including a damn strong needle that glinted in the low light when you settled on it. You’d need something tough to get through his skin and only then did you begin to wonder again about just what had managed to cut him so deeply.

 It boggled your mind, the force that some of these people could fight with.

 He was staring at you impatiently when you returned.

 “You seem calmer,” he observed, sounding almost disappointed. “It’s almost as though you don’t care what happens to your favourite patient.”

 You tutted.

 “It’s almost as though you just enjoy making me panic.”

 “I like to watch you panic, sweetheart. Brings out your eyes,” he chuckled darkly, catching his tongue between his teeth while his own eyes trailed over you. You ignored the sudden surge of heat to your cheeks because as usual, he was managing to make you blush.

 Nothing new there.

 While you’d been fucking about in the kitchen, he’d had the foresight to remove both his armoured shoulder pads and the remains of his shirt- despite his injury making it painful to do so.

 You had an unobscured view of his chest now, blood painting it red and you were suddenly glad you’d invested in a throw for your couch because it was damn near everywhere had he clearly had no qualms about leaving bloody hand prints on it.

 “You better not have pet Marco with blood all over your hands,” you warned him as you laid out your supplies on the side table neatly, glancing around until you found your cat lounging on his cat tree- no longer interested in your intruder. Since All Might didn’t have food to sneak him today, Marco wasn’t bothering him any more.

 Fickle thing, you thought.

 “The cat is fine. I’m the fucking injured party here,” All Might scoffed, apparently irritated that you were no longer fussing around him like you had been. Despite how he always complained and brushed off your worry, you knew he liked having someone fawn over him. Sometimes you played it up just to watch him melt for you.

 Not tonight though.

 “Oh hush,” you said, leaning in again to examine the wound.

 It was angry and still oozing blood like it was the world’s worst slip’n’slide but from what you could see there was nothing in there you would have to dig out. It only really needed to be cleaned and then it would need at least twenty or so stitches but hey, at least he wasn’t dead.

 The warmth of him under your palm confirmed your ‘not dead’ diagnosis. How the Hell did one man produce so much heat?

 You hummed and debated with yourself for a moment because… well. Leaning over him like you were for twenty stitches would be rough on your back and from experience, you knew asking him to move from his current comfortable position would be met with a firm ‘fuck off’.

 This was going to be torture for both of you- for different reasons. You’d never hear the end of it.

 With no other way to reach him without being awkward about it, you straddled his thick thighs- grumbling all the way. His eyebrows rose as you climbed into his lap, settling your ass onto his knees before reaching for your things beside you.

 You refused to look him in the eye though and absolutely would not think about how far apart your legs had to go to accommodate him.

 All Might, despite the pain he was in, clearly hadn’t lost any major brain function. His hands came up and settled on your hips like they belonged there- blood staining your tee-shirt. They were heavy and warm, the sheer size of them covering both hips as his fingers splayed out across your back. He exhaled but said nothing about your sudden position, simply relaxing back to let you do your thing.

 His usually slicked back hair was mussed and falling over his eyes but you could still see the shock of bright blue following your every movement with a sharp, ardent scrutiny.

 Well.

 That was intense.

 “What!?” you snapped, annoyed at his incessant staring- and the effect it was having on you. His smirk broadened into a full blown, easy smile.

 “Not quite how I imagined you sitting in my lap for the first time,” he rumbled, as though it was a perfectly normal thing to say. Like he was talking about the weather. Your body jolted, head swimming. You prayed he couldn’t read your face but you knew it was a futile hope.

 Your expression and blush simply encouraged him more.

 His thumbs swept a wide path over your waist while you desperately tried not to think about how big his fingers were. You swallowed hard, attempting to steady the shake in your hands as you wiped away blood.

 “I’d always thought… well, hoped actually, that you’d sit on my face first, kitten,” he continued lightly.

 Honestly, the fact that you didn’t pop a blood vessel right then and there was admirable.

 “If you don’t quit that, I’m going to poke you with this big ass needle and it will hurt,” you managed to choke out, pressing a little harder than necessary as you cleaned his chest. He flinched, body tightening before sagging with relief when you removed your hand.

 He heaved an irritable sigh but you weren’t exactly finished berating him.

 “Symbol of Chaos my very fine ass,” you continued mockingly, embarrassment spilling out in the form of harsh words. He glared at you with icy, unreadable eyes. “You bleed all over my apartment, scare the shit out of me and then think it’s perfectly acceptable to make a joke about me riding you. You’re being such a dickhead.”

 You said it like you meant it.

 You already lived on edge half the time without having to worry about him as well. His lack of concern for his own well being was frustrating and you’d often find yourself scouring the news channels after a particularly vicious fight just to make sure he wasn’t dead or captured- seeing as he didn’t afford you the courtesy of a phone call.

 Not that you’d ever expect him to.

 “Are you finished, sweetheart?” he interrupted your train of thought, his fingers squeezing your hips almost painfully now. The mildly annoyed All Might was swiftly being replaced by the one who you would get into blazing arguments with. At least you knew how to handle this one…

 “I think you’re getting too fucking comfortable with me, little bird. You think I’ve gone soft? Huh?” he lifted your chin with his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him while the other hand held you in place. “You and I both know I could snap that pretty little neck of yours with one hand if I wanted to,” he growled, his face suddenly inches from yours and you had the gall to mindlessly think that there was nothing soft about him.

 You were a horny idiot with no self-preservation apparently.

 He released your chin and rested the side of his hand on your shoulder, open palm angled towards your throat but not touching it.

 A warning.

 You’d definitely hit a nerve.

 All the same though, some dumbass part of you refused to be intimidated in your own fucking home. You scowled up at him, pretending to be unimpressed rather than frightened. Blood thrummed in your ears, keeping pace with your rapid heartbeat.

 Looking him in the eye was like was like staring down a fucking lion.

 “Maybe I should. It would teach you a lesson.”

 But you’d been doing this little song and dance with each other for months now and you’d perfected your ‘you don’t frighten me’ face long ago. It infuriated him, sure, but you had a sneaking suspicion that it also intrigued him.

 He knew full well that he wasn’t the Symbol of Chaos when he was in your apartment. He was just… Toshinori.

 Although he despised it when you called him that. Shouted and raged and screamed at you every time but let you continue doing it anyway. You didn’t know why he hated his own name so much nor why he relented so easily when you insisted on calling him by it but, it was always your trump card.

 “Toshinori,” you said sharply and he nearly flinched. “Stop being such a drama queen.”

 His anger withered right then and there into something else, and the beast reluctantly backed down as he seemed to come to his senses.

 But once a villain…

 “You going to stop being a bitch if I do?” he asked, cocking his head to one side. His brow was still furrowed, making his face look harsh but you could see his scowl lessen.

 “No,” you muttered petulantly, mustering up all of your courage to do so. He hadn’t killed you yet, after all. He’d never even laid a hand on you- violently anyway. Light touches and slapping your ass didn’t count. You pushed his large hand from your shoulder and he let you, dropping it back to the couch below. “But I suppose I’ll save it for when you’re not bleeding out on my couch.”

 “Gee, thanks.”

 And he was back ladies and gentlemen! How to train your villain, in three steps or less.

 You brushed off his sarcasm and leaned to one side, reaching for the needle and surgical thread. His hand came back up to your hip- finished with his tantrum. He supported your weight as you rummaged through the plastic container you’d set aside for him.

 It took you no time to find a rhythm for your work as you both fell into easy silence- pinching the wound shut with one hand while the other deftly stitched him up. You had to shift a few times in his lap, holding a small flashlight between your teeth when the lamps on either side of the couch weren’t bright enough.

 It was thankfully, a clean cut with no ragged edges to it and once again, you could only wonder how sharp the thing that made it was.

 There was no indicator that he was in pain other than the occasional squeeze of his fingers but you didn’t bring it up or offer him any other pain medication. He seemed content with the occasional swig of bourbon.

 Halfway there, you paused for a breather.

 “You good?” you asked softly, noting that you were ten stitches down with eleven more to go. When you looked up, you saw his jaw tick at your concern but he answered you all the same.

 “M’fine. Just get it over with,” he grunted, his breath fanning over the top of your head.

 He sounded more impatient than pained now but honestly, that was just the norm for him. At least he seemed less woozy as blood started flowing around his body instead of out of it. He’d have another gnarly scar to add to his collection at the end of this but you were doing your best to minimise the damage.

 “Almost done,” you said, patting his chest reassuringly. He said nothing but you felt a little of the tension in his thighs abate.

 “Good,” he grumbled eventually, as petulant as ever. Your lips quirked in a half smile. He noticed the mood change. “So…” he said, clearing his throat when it became clear you weren’t going to say anything else. “What does the good doctor recommend this time? Plenty of rest and chicken soup?”

 “You know, it’s like you read my mind,” you said, focusing hard on the last few stitches. You’d given him some of your best work despite the fact that your hands were shaking with adrenaline. Not to blow your own trumpet too much but you could see why he came back time and time again.

 There wasn’t a back alley, hack job doctor in the city who could do work like you could- mostly thanks to your Quirk.

 “But, you know, I can’t cook worth a damn so you’ll have to make do with leftover takeout, your highness,” you added, tongue caught between your teeth to hide your smile. He didn’t bother hiding his, grinning at you like the damn Cheshire Cat. “The bed rest is non-negotiable though. I don’t need you running rampant in Kamino and undoing all of my hard work.”

 You had already decided that he would sleep here for a few days before you even considered letting him leave again and he could throw all the fucking tantrums he liked because you wouldn’t be budging an inch on it. You knew he would tear the damn stitches the second you let him out of your sight.

 He didn’t whine though. Just said-

 “Well, there’s always one way to keep me occupied,” he leered, eyes trailing over you and down to where you were seated over his crotch. You rolled your eyes. Even when he was clearly in agony, he was trying to get into your pants. “What do you think, sweetheart? Wanna sit on my cock?”

 Um YES!?

 “Um, no, you big fucking pervert,” you tutted, rolling your eyes inspite of what your body screamed at you. He chuckled, amused at how fast you’d said no.

 “Shame. You’d like it,” he purred, his voice no longer tinged with pain.“I know I’d fucking love it.”

 His tone was light, teasing and it did unspeakable things to you. You had to hand it to him. He’d always been surprisingly playful when it came to you- that first meeting notwithstanding.

 If there was one word the media would ever use to describe the man who terrorised their cities day in and day out, playful would not be it. When he’d first stooped through your doorway and demanded your services, you hadn’t thought for a single second you’d ever make it out of there alive- let alone have him tease and flirt with you six months down the line.

 He’d inserted himself into your life with the sort of ease that came naturally to a wicked, no good villain like himself. Then twisted your worldview until you suddenly couldn’t see what life would be like without him annoying you.

 Sure, he made jokes and provocative comments and generally acted like a pervert when he wasn’t in need of medical assistance- but he also never pushed you and you felt a deep appreciation for the weird moral code that he stuck to.

 He was a liar. A cheat. A murderer. An absolute fucking psychopath when he wanted to be. He took a tremendous amount of pleasure in causing pain- almost as much as you took in binge watching Netflix on a Saturday night.

 But he’d reeled in indignation when it was suggested that he was interested in sexual deviancy.

 He insisted that he liked his partners willing and able to participate and then had looked you up and down like he was actually going to eat you on the spot. You’d quickly changed the subject and then when he’d said his brief goodbye you’d changed your panties too because that look had soaked you through.

 And he fucking knew it did.

 You’d spent years patching up the worst people that this city had to offer. Which, in comparison to other places, was a disturbingly high number per capita. Like, off the bloody charts high. At the end of the day though, you could detach yourself from them. If the army had taught you one thing in your seven year deployment, it was how to stay detached.

 Becoming emotionally involved with a man- especially one as universally hated and feared as he was- hadn’t been covered in the handbook.

 It had hit you out of left field like a Detroit Smash to the fucking temple.

 You had Vagabond- Ivy to her friends, to thank for the entire situation.

 She had been the first villain you’d ever patched up. You’d found her, barely breathing and severely wounded, in the alley way behind your apartment complex. It had been a spur of the moment rescue and after you’d nursed her back to health, she’d been surprisingly sweet to you.

 After a few successful meetings in which she didn’t murder or rob you and you didn’t shop her to the cops- she’d begun to recommend her ‘friends’, for lack of a better descriptor, to you when they needed something done.

 Seeing the money they were offering had put to rest any guilt you might have felt about helping criminals.

 All Might… had come to you on his own.

 Ivy had never mentioned any affiliation with him and you’d never exactly advertised your services, so when your door had swung open and he’d marched in, you had all but pissed your pants in fear. So had the unfortunate Yakuza member that you had been prescribing muscle relaxers to at the time.

 He’d certainly needed them as All Might had literally thrown him out into your hallway, face first and then demanded that you patch up the burn on his hand instead.

 Ivy had listened to your tale the next day, wide eyed and mouth gaping as you’d described the most feared man in the world sitting patiently on your couch as you’d whipped up a special salve to combat the sting of Endeavor’s handiwork.

 Despite his rude entrance, he’d been gruff yet polite as you talked him through caring for the burn when he was done. Then he’d thanked you for your time and left. Just like that. You’d never thought you would see him again.

 Then he’d started to come around more often. Sometimes he wasn’t even injured and while he passed it off as needing a place to lay low for a day or two, you suspected that even a man as intimidating and powerful as him- needed a friendly face sometimes.

 Or someone to ogle. Either or.

 Now that you were done with his stitches, you wiped the wound clean with an antiseptic wipe but left the gauze on the coffee table. He needed a shower and clean clothes before you would even consider dressing it.

 “Not that I’m telling you how to do your job, darling,” he queried, shifting underneath you but keeping you steady with his firm grip. “But don’t I at least get a band-aid?”

 You quirked an eyebrow at him, leaning back and away from the heat of his body because it was tampering with your ability to think straight.

 You ‘tsked’ disapprovingly at his question, grabbing his chin and moving his face to one side to get a better look at him. He was deathly pale and looked exhausted. Yet he still had the energy to suggest that you have sex with him. Usually you wouldn’t have been so openly pissed at the blatant disregard he had for his own well being but he’d terrified you tonight and had brought all your silly feelings for him rushing back to the forefront of your mind.

 “No,” you deadpanned. “You need to take a shower first and get into something clean.”

 “I knew you were trying to get me naked. All you had to do was ask you know,” he teased softly, hands sliding up from your hips to your waist.

 You grabbed his wrists to push them away but it was like pushing at steel and you narrowed your eyes at him. He made a low, vibrating noise in his chest- half laugh half admonishment for being disobedient.

 “You can’t keep teasing me like this kitten,” he informed you, even though you had no idea you’d even been teasing him in the first place. “You make me so fucking hard, d’ya know that?” He tugged you closer without warning until you were plastered against him, almost face to face.

 Your heart thundered in your chest and every nerve ending sparked to life under his hands.

 His voice was laced with thick arousal. Apparently life threatening injuries made him horny.

 Go figure.

 “Is that right?” you said, staring up at him while your gut twisted into a million different shapes. He leered at you and then to emphasise his point, he rolled his hips upwards and pressed his erection between your legs.

 Your breath hitched despite you trying not to make a sound. He grinned, wolfish and hungry- wanting to chase that sound out of you again.

 “Yeah, s’right,” he muttered lowly, eyes flickering to your lips and then lower. He seemed to debate with himself for a moment before he ducked his face to your neck, laying a hot kiss over your pulse point. His mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was thick, trailing in a line along your jaw and back again- until he tugged your earlobe between his teeth and you bucked mindlessly, without even meaning to.

 You felt him grin, then the sharp pinch of his canines as he nipped at your neck.

 “Come on sweetheart,” his voice was laced with arousal. “Tell me what you want me to do to you. Or do I have to guess?”

 Oh where did you even start?

 “I- I want-,” you breathed hard, letting him grind you down against his cock. Your thighs shook, the pajama pants you’d worn for your quiet night in, doing nothing to get in the way of the thick shaft that pressed between the lips of your pussy. God, he was big. You’d guessed he would be but this was just ridiculous…

 His hand slid along your back and covered your ass and pull you down harder- rubbing you over his cock in a steady rhythm.

 Your gasp of pleasure made him grin wickedly and hum a pleased sound in his throat.

 “That’s it, kitten,” he said encouragingly, like he was proud of you for being so pliable for him. So easily led into this sinful encounter. It’s not like you’d tried to push him away, was it? No. Because deep down, underneath all of your shaky morals you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you.

 “You’ve always wanted me to fuck you, haven’t you? Always wanted to spread your legs for me? Don’t worry, I’ll make it so good for you,” he murmured, a promise you never thought you’d hear him make.

 Gentle and All Might didn’t exactly go together and the thought of him making love to you, whispering sweet nothings in you ear was almost laughable.

 …Almost.

 It was also incredibly arousing.

 “I didn’t think you were the gentle type,” you managed to say, excited by the prospect of having him inside you now. All other issues were pushed out of your mind at the mere thought of him fulfilling all of these promises he was making.

 Abruptly, as if to make his point, he slowed the pace that he’d been rocking your hips at- taking on a more leisurely roll that saw him bucking upwards to meet you halfway.

 “You don’t think I can be gentle with you?” he asked, hand coming up to cup your cheek and he must have been amused by your rabbit in headlights expression because he laughed. Was this really the same man who you would have blazing, heated arguments with? Who tore down whole city blocks just because he could?

  “You really think I’m just a one trick pony? Oh baby, just wait until I get you into a bed. I’ll take my time with you. Fuck you long, and slow and hard until you can’t see straight. Until the fucking sun comes up.”

 His words were punctuated by your pathetic whines of pleasure as he ground against you and at the thought of him, not just pounding you into the bed, but actually taking his time? Of seeing a side of him you’d never seen before, loving you slow in all the right places?

 Well, you just about melted against him. Boneless would fail to describe how you felt.

 How had you gone from stitching him up to dry humping him on your couch? You had no idea but you also knew that it was a long time coming. Him getting all sweet on you was just… speeding up the process. He was still keeping the pace languid and you had no problem with that, the intense build up of winding tension in your stomach twisting ever tighter.

 You had soaked through your panties by now and the damp fabric was pressing against your clit with every upward stroke of his cock.

 You wanted to kiss him but even now, as close as you both were, his height still put him at an awkward angle.

 Vaguely, you remembered that you had goddamn hands.

 You reached up and circled them around the back of his muscular neck and tugged softly to indicate what you wanted. He leered at you tauntingly for just a moment before remembering his promise and letting you pull him in.

 He was, as you’d rightly guessed, an excellent kisser.

 His lips were cool from the rain he’d walked through to get here, but his tongue was hot and as always, he gave you very little preamble before the main event. His tongue was at your lips almost instantly, testing your boundaries of which you apparently had fucking zero tonight.

 All it took was a sharp nip to your bottom lip and you were letting him in, letting him take what he wanted from your mouth while you revelled in every second of it.

 His groan was music to your ears, deep and almost needy as a palm pressed between your shoulder blades. You didn’t think you could physically get closer to him but you were wrong as he devoured you, your breasts pressing hard into his chest. You kept up with him as best you could but eventually you needed air and to your surprise, he let you pull away when you wanted to.

 His eyes were dark and full of lust when you stared back at him, swallowing.

 It was then that you finally caught sight of your own hands on him, blood coating them.

 His blood.

 Your body went cold. Shit! How had you gotten so distracted!?

 Fuck. You longed desperately to throw all your inhibitions right out of the window because he was very, very good at this but that niggling voice that had been worried about him from the moment he arrived was suddenly getting too loud to ignore.

 As much as you wanted to enjoy the attention and his lips on your throat, he was currently in no state to even think about anything remotely physical. Although… you could do most of the work… No! No, he needed to shower and eat and get some of that strength back.

 You knew it and he knew it, despite his attempts to make you believe otherwise.

 He made an irritated sound at you when you pulled away.

 “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, amused by your sudden fussing of him as you checked over the fresh stitches. So much for keeping everything sanitary, you cringed. You’d been about ready to ride him into the couch not twenty seconds ago.

 “Sorry, big guy but the buffet is closed. As much as it hurts me to say.” And oh, was it excruciating. “Now, get your ass to the shower,” you commanded, levelling a hard glare in his direction and ignoring the whine that your brain gave at the loss of contact.

 Usually he would match your glare, not intimidated by some uppity little army doc who whored out her services to Kamino’s underbelly.

 His words, the first time you met each other, not yours.

 He was clearly more tired than he let on as he reluctantly relented, letting you climb off of his lap with no more arguments. You brushed yourself down, cheeks red all while attempting not to stare at the straining outline of his cock through his blood covered pants. You focused on his injury instead of the ache between your legs.

 When you were satisfied the stitches would hold through some light movement, you held out a hand for him to take. He shot you an incredulous look but took it all the same, standing in one swift movement that told you it had been out of courtesy and not necessity. You hadn’t even had to pull.

 “We aren’t finished here, I hope you know that,” he warned you and your body sang in response. Your face stayed serious though and you pulled your lip between your teeth. His eyes followed the motion and he dipped down for another kiss-

 You really, really wanted to let him but instead, you shoved him as hard as you could towards the hallway and in the direction of the bathroom.

 He growled, unimpressed at being denied so abruptly.

 It was only seconds ago you’d been whining and hot under his hands and now you were shuffling awkwardly and forcing him in towards the shower. Talk about a cock tease.

 “Leave your clothes out,” you said, before he could go. “I’ll wash them. You can’t go around in those bloody things like an animal.”

 “You sure you don’t want to wash my back in there, kitten?” he was suddenly towering over you, crowding you with the bulk of his body and you felt heat creep up along your neck. You resisted the urge to say yes and follow him- although it was a battle hard won.

 “Towels are in the cupboard and there should be pajama pants and a tee-shirt in your size in the bottom drawer,” you smiled sweetly, patting his stomach and ducking out from under his shadow. You cleared the room in an instant, leaving him in the entrance to the hallway and dancing out of reach of his very bad influence.

 He gave you a long, very searching look.

 “You had company over or something?” he asked bluntly, never one to beat around the bush.

 “Not that’s it any of your business but no,” you replied, tonguing the inside of your cheek as you contemplated your answer. “I um… I bought you some stuff in case you decided to use me as a hotel again. It’s not a big deal.”

 So what if you’d picked out a couple of shirts and some pajama pants in his size and colour? It wasn’t like you wanted him to move in or anything. You were being prepared. Which is the hill you’d chosen to die on and you weren’t budging from it.

 He shot you a filthy grin, pleased with your answer and the redness in your face.

 “Oh stop looking so happy with yourself and get out,” you huffed, flinging a cushion at him. He roared a laugh that shook your walls as he retreated down the hallway- appeased by your current level of affection for him.

 A soft, ‘mrrp’, to your left caught your attention and your cat stared back at you.

 “Don’t even start your lecture,” you answered, grumpily. “You like him too.”

 Marco rubbed himself against the cat post, scratching his own chin on the rough material. He gave another quick meow of agreement before hopping down and wandering away and leaving you wondering what the hell you’d gotten yourself into.

TBC...

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

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

[n7inky-fanfics]

Lost

CW: Injury, blood, alcohol

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The crew of the Normandy loves Shepard. She is different than any other Commander in the Alliance. She took the time to deeply know every member of her crew. While her name may inspire equal admiration and fear in others, it inspires warmth and loyalty in her crew. Everyone trusts her with their lives, and even on her worst days they never fear her.

That being said, the ship is now uncomfortably quiet and tense. For the first time ever, the crew is walking on eggshells around Shepard. Her own shell has cracked, and to avoid vulnerability she is lashing out at pretty much anyone in her path.

When the shore party returned from Thessia, Shepard maintained silence and a cold demeanour until she had finished her call with the Asari Ambassador. She managed to use the last bit of her usual grace to comfort Liara. Then, she broke. She snapped at Joker and the two of them had it out on the bridge. The argument ended with both parties shaken, but it was clear that they would forgive each other once they had calmed down. The crew had never seen Shepard like this, and it worried them.

It's the end of the main dinner shift, and no one has seen Shepard for hours. James, Garrus, and Kaidan have done their best to reassure the crew. Now, Kaidan is making his way to Shepard's cabin with a dinner plate. He doesn't think she'll eat it, but he has to try. EDI informs him that Shepard's door is currently set to lock out everyone, including him. When he arrives outside the door, he knocks gently. "Hazel, it's me. Please let me in. I just want to help." The red glow of the locked door turns yellow and then green as it is unlocked. It slides open to reveal Shepard's room.

Broken glass and puddles of alcohol cover the floor. The desk chair is upside down in the middle of the floor. A large, bloody dent mars the wall. Shepard sits in the floor, on the right side of her bed, with her head hung low. She's wearing her Alliance t-shirt and a small pair of shorts. Her short, pink hair is a ruffled mess. Her right hand is bloodied and bruised. Pieces of glass from the alcohol bottles stick out of her knees and shins. Despite the strong presence of alcohol, she seems sober. She must have destroyed every bottle she had without drinking a drop.

Kaidan stands in the entrance. "Hazel, you're injured. We should really get you to the med-bay."

"No." Her voice is steady and cold.

"Can I at least get a kit and start getting that hand cleaned up?"

"No. Leave it."

Kaidan sighs deeply. "Fine, but I'm coming further in." She says nothing as he makes his way to the couch, careful to avoid the broken glass. He sits on the couch, hoping she might get off the floor and sit with him. Instead, she remains still. "Shepard, we're worried about you."

"Fuck..." she whispers.

"Hey, it's not your fault. It's Cerberus. You know that."

"Like hell it's not my fault!" She looks up at him, her eyes puffy, red, and furious. Dark energy begins to glow around her. "I should have anticipated this. Fucking Cerberus has their nose in everything. Of course they'd be there, and of course they'd try to use me to lead them to what they wanted. I was a fool and Thessia was lost for nothing! Now, everyone is screwed and we're all going to die because I couldn't get the damn job done!" Her biotics glow brighter, and the field around her swells.

"It's not over yet, Shepard. We'll find them, we'll get the VI back, and we'll end this for good." Kaidan says gently.

"Don't you get it, Kaidan? I failed! The whole galaxy is relying on me to save their asses again, and I failed! I can't do this! I can't save them!" Her voice is raw and strained. She clenches her fists and screams "Fuck!" A wave of dark energy shoots out from her in all directions. Kaidan throws up a barrier, protecting himself from the force of the blast and the bits of glass that flow with it. He can't help but be a little grateful that Cerberus equipped her room with reinforced glass. If they hadn't, the fish tank and model ship display would have exploded. The coffee table, which had flown towards him and bounced off his barrier, settles upside down in front of the bed. Shepard's eyes widen with shock and fear.

"I... I haven't lost control like that since... since I left the Reds... Kaidan, I'm so sorry." Her nose starts to bleed slightly, and tears begin to slide down her cheeks.

Kaidan makes his way to her and pulls her into a tight embrace, leaving just enough room to avoid brushing the glass still embedded in her legs. "It's okay, Hazel. I understand." He holds her close and gently strokes her hair. When she seems to have calmed down some, he pulls back just enough to look at her face while he wipes the tears from her cheeks. She's pale and shaking. Her nose bleed hasn't stopped. She must be exhausted. After all this and the battle on Thessia before, even the best biotic would be. When was the last time she ate?

"Hey, let's get you sitting down." He guides her to sit on the bed and retrieves the food he had brought for her from the couch. "Eat this while I get Dr. Chakwas up here to have a look at you."

"Kaidan, I don't want anyone else to see this." She looks around at the mess she made.

"It's either that or I carry you down to the med-bay. I think you'll collapse if I let you walk it yourself."

She sighs deeply. "Okay, bring her up here."

Kaidan activates the direct link to EDI from Shepard's terminal. "EDI, can you please ask Dr. Chakwas to come up here with the necessary equipment to support an exhausted biotic and remove shards of debris from a person? And please, keep this on a need-to-know basis."

EDI confirms the request and Dr. Chakwas arrives minutes later with a large medical kit in tow. If she's surprised by the state of Shepard's room, she doesn't show it. She follows the mostly cleared path that Kaidan has made with a broom from the supply closet in the bathroom. Shepard is slowly eating the dinner Kaidan brought. "I'm going to get you an IV with fluids and nutrients, then I'll take care of your legs." Dr. Chakwas says.

As Shepard recovers, Kaidan cleans the mess. By the time Dr. Chakwas has gotten all of the glass out of Hazel's leg, the glass has been safely disposed of, the alcohol has been mopped off the floor, and the furniture has been set back where it belongs. "Thank you, Karin. I'm sorry about all this."

"It's my pleasure, Commander. " Dr. Chakwas replies. She places a hand on Shepard's shoulder. "Take care of yourself, now. Remember that I'm here to help. Come see me if you need anything." She packs up her kit and leaves. The room falls silent. Shepard stares into her lap and Kaidan wonders what to say to help her.

Finally, he says "Hey, you should get some sleep." She nods, still looking at her lap. "Goodnight, Shepard." He kisses her forehead gently, then turns to leave.

"Wait..." Her voice comes out barely above a whisper.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"At least until I fall asleep. Please." She's still staring into her lap.

"Okay, Hazel." He says. He climbs into bed and gently guides her to lay next to him. She curls into him and he wraps his arms around her. She drifts off to sleep faster than he had expected. She must be so exhausted. He, too, falls asleep shortly after her.

In the morning, Kaidan awakes to an early alarm and an empty bed. He finds her in the war room, mulling over data for answers. He brings her a coffee before he starts his day. He's sitting in the observation deck, coffee in one hand and data pad in the other, when Dr. Chakwas comes in, locking the door behind herself.

"Kaidan, I'm glad you got me last night. How is she doing this morning?"

"She's back at work, trying to find a solution. She was up well before her alarm, I think. She's stressed, and I doubt she's okay, but she's functional. I'll keep an eye on her, try to make sure she takes care of herself."

"Yes, please do that..." Dr. Chakwas trails off and looks away from Kaidan.

"What is it, Karin?"

"Shepard has always had it rough. You and I both know this to be true. She's always hid her emotions and buried them deep. But dying... it broke her in ways I can't fix. In ways she hasn't recovered from. Then, she lost people. Good people. Hell, she lost Earth. Now she's lost Thessia as well. It's all piling up. She struggles, and I fear that she's reaching a point where all those bottled up pains will all spill out. When she does, we need to be there for her. Please, make sure you're there for her."

She doesn't say it, but Kaidan knows what she's thinking. Be there for her this time. Don't abandon her like you did on Horizon. Be there for her this time. He nods. "I've got her back, Karin."

"Good." Karin nods and takes her leave. Kaidan stares out the window and sighs deeply. This war won't be won without a great cost. He just hopes Shepard doesn't have to pay the bulk of it.

[justahopelessssromantic]

Perfect

Part 11

Part 10

A/N: Hey guys finally have the next part out for y’all! I’m going to tag the parts a little different and just link the one before this because it’s getting a little tedious 😅. Anyways I hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for all the continued love and support! You all really mean the world to me! 💖

*gifs not mine*

Warnings: Angst, violence

A few weeks had passed and with each one you saw less and less of Angel and more of Matt. It wasn't your intention, Angel just wouldn't come around as often, avoided you the best he could whenever you were at the clubhouse, and was going on more runs than usual. He was trying to stay busy, to keep his mind busy.

He was waiting for you to blow up on him about the text but you never did. A few days after he sucked it up and came into his father's shop while you were working.

"Hey," he greeted you with a nod of the head. If you were going to say something about it now would be the time. He was ready for it.

"Hey," you smiled back at him. "How are you doing? I saw your text." You said gently.

"You did?" He assumed you did but you never said anything until now. Here it comes, he thought. Holding his breath he waited for you to explode, but you didn’t.

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't reply I didn't see it until later and when you didn't show up I just assumed you weren't coming, that maybe club shit came up." You understood that the club would always come first and naturally if you didn't hear from him that was the reason. "I appreciate it though, you wanting to check on me. Thank you."

"Didn't think you needed me," he complained, "You seemed just fine with Matt there."

Now you realized why he hadn't stopped and you let out a sigh. You could just feel the stress headache coming on already.

“What’s the problem, querida?” He leaned onto the counter closer to you, his cologne strong and intoxicating bringing you a sense of nostalgia as he continued spitting words better left unsaid, “Didn’t want me to find out? He stay the night too? Fuck your pain away?”

“That’s your thing, not mine.” You spat back, your jaw clenched. “Remember?” You internally scolded yourself for letting him get under your skin, again. Stepping back from the counter closing your eyes you rubbed your temples. “How many times are we going to keep doing this Angel?" You asked before opening your eyes and looking back at him. 'Aren’t you tired of it?” You were feeling incredibly burned out and tired, tired of going round and round in the same circle over and over again. You couldn't understand how he couldn't be tired as well. You didn’t have the energy for this fight again, especially not today. “Because I am. I'm so very, very tired.”

Angel laid his palms flat against the counter top looking down at the packages in the display case below him as he let out a sigh. He was tired just like you, maybe even more so, but he couldn’t give up on you. He couldn’t let you go. You held his heart and there was no one in the world he could ever give it to again. It belonged to you just like he did. It pained him to know how bad you were hurting to see how now that you were back everything was weighing down on you once more but this was a fight he couldn’t give up on. “Yeah, I’m tired too.” He said, looking up and meeting your eyes, getting lost in the familiarity of them. “I’m tired of not waking up next to you, tired of not being the reason behind your beautiful smile, tired of being the reason for the pain I can see so clearly in your eyes, mi dulce.” He swallowed trying to keep his emotions in check, which was almost nearly impossible when he was around you, “ And most of all I’m tired of missing you.”

“Angel I-”

The soft sound of candy spilling out of a box alerted the two of you to the presence that was now in the shop with you. You were so caught up in each other you didn’t even hear the man enter. Turning your attention to the man you watched as he plopped a couple of the Candy & Licorice candies he had into his mouth.

Angel tensed up beside you immediately holding himself taller. No one had said anything yet but you could tell by Angel’s reaction to the man that he was not a friend.

He slipped the box of candy into his pocket before returning his gaze back to the two of you. “Trouble in paradise?” he finally spoke up with an unsettling smile, “Please continue.” He motioned towards the two of you. “Don’t let me interrupt your little lover’s quarrel.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Angel spoke up stepping closer to the man.

“Meat of course. What other reasons would there be for someone to stop into Carniceria Reyes?” He said almost challenging Angel. Smiling once more he turned his attention to you and stepped up to the counter. “Forgive me. Where are my manners?” He said extending his hand out to you, “I don’t believe we’ve met. Lincoln Potter.”

Angel’s glare burned through Potter’s back. He didn’t like him being here, sniffing around you. It did nothing but add on to the stress and anger piling up inside him.The last thing he wanted was for Potter to involve you in any more of their shit then you already were.

His phone buzzed from within his cut and as much as he didn’t want to leave you alone with Potter he knew he had to take the call. He pulled the device out, “Yo.” He answered, walking towards the window.

You kept most of your attention on your new acquaintance, Lincoln Potter but were also very aware of Angel and his reaction to the man and did your best to be aware of any silent signals Angel may give you as well. He was ordering a roast and you smiled politely taking his order but you knew that wasn’t why he was really in the shop that day.

“I’ll be there.” You heard Angel say before hanging up his cellphone. You finished wrapping the produce and turned back around meeting his eyes. You gave him a little nod to let him know you would be okay before he ducked out of the shop, the bell dinging behind him and you turned your attention once more to the task at hand.

After that day you didn’t see as much of Angel. He’d ride by every once in a while to make sure Potter wasn’t giving you trouble and each time he would it seemed Matt’s truck was always outside his Pop’s shop. Eventually he couldn’t handle it anymore and stopped altogether. He was trying to give you space, trying not to lose his cool and if that meant he had to avoid you then avoid you he would.

Or at least he’d try.

But like you had said that was impossible. Everywhere he went if he wasn’t seeing you or Matt he was hearing all about you from the people of Santo Padre. And if it wasn’t you and Matt it was Coco and Matt, even sometimes the three of you. He understood now more than ever why you up and left him and the small town you held dear in your heart.

But Angel couldn’t run away so instead he found other ways to release some stress. Like after he saw Matt at your place again he took it out on the old piece of shit car that had been sitting at the scrapyard. He swung the crowbar over and over, shattering the glass, denting the car up beyond repair before tossing the crowbar to the side without paying any attention to his surroundings. The only thing on his mind was rage at that moment.

“Shit,” Gilly said, jumping away from the flying object. “Damn Angel, watch what you’re doing.”

Angel ran his hand through his hair. He turned his attention to his brother, completely out of breath. “Fuck, sorry hermano.” Angel pulled his pack out of his cut extending a cigarette Gilly’s way.

Gilly took it, flipping a couple of buckets over creating a seat for him and Angel. He sat down lighting it up watching as Angel did the same. The separation was rough on Angel but this was so much worse and Gilly was starting to really worry about his hermano. None of the guys knew what to do. They felt like they were walking on eggshells around him just waiting for him to explode, so they let him take his frustrations out as best they could. “What’d old Matilda ever do to you?” He tried to tease Angel nodding to the beat up junker.

He should have known better though. Angel hadn’t been much in the teasing mood for a long time. He just started ahead with his cigarette dangling between his fingers getting lost in the damage he had created both physically in the car before him and in his relationships.

Gilly missed the old Angel.

When Angel wasn’t beating the shit out of inanimate objects he was taking it out in the ring. Every opportunity he got he’d be busting it out in there, taking whoever it may be who would be willing to be his punching bag that day. The guys knew it wasn’t personal and all took turns taking the brunt of it just trying to help in any way they can.

“Alright,” Angel said, approaching the table of his fellow members, “Who wants to have a go in the ring?”

The men all groaned internally. Gilly sipped his beer, Riz pretended to be very involved in the current card game before him, Creeper acted as if his phone held something very important and EZ stood up making some excuse about needing to clean the bar up.

“C’mon,” Angel whined, “Really? None of you fuckers are gonna be man enough to take me on?” He said, trying to play at their egos.

The truth was they were all exhausted. They could only go this way for so long and it seemed that Angel never got tired, he was always ready for another fight. It wasn’t normal and sure as hell not healthy.

“Fine,” he spat, grabbing a beer off the table. “If you need me I’ll fucking be out back!” Beer in hand he stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

Another method Angel used to distract himself was running. Every morning he would wake up at the crack of dawn, throw on some shorts and sneakers and head out the door with no destination in mind, just letting his feet take him. It was like he was training for a marathon that no one knew about.

Unfortunately though his feet were always taking him to your place where he’d stand across the street staring at the dark house before him. You were always sleeping so you would never know he was there but he’d be there a good twenty minutes before he’d suck it up and move on. If he wasn’t finding himself at your place then it was the park where you had your first official date. He’d stop and sit on the swing for a moment catching his breath as he remembered all the picnics you had shared there together, the birthdays, anniversaries, and just lazy days when you’d get the day just for the two of you.

Every place in this town held a memory of you, a memory of your time together as a couple. He really couldn’t escape you.

All these things provided him a momentary release but it wasn’t enough and it was only a matter of time before he snapped. Everyone could see that and were anxiously waiting for the moment to come only hoping there wouldn’t be too many casualties in the fallout.

Each day at the Carniceria got a little easier. You started to notice Angel’s lack of being around a little less and tried to push him to the back of your mind.

Matt would come by often, bringing you coffee or lunch. You’d take your breaks with him enjoying the food he provided and taking a nice stroll in the fresh air. He was easy to talk to, you never shared the deepest parts of your life but anything else was always on the table. There was nothing you felt like you couldn’t share with him.

He felt just as comfortable around you as well and would tell you about his mother who practically raised him all alone after his father split. His dad was a drunk so he nor his mother ever missed him once he was gone. He told you about his days serving with Coco and all the shenanigans they would get up to. His stories were always so detailed you could picture them vividly and you’d get lost in them.

When you were with Matt all your worries would go away, you felt free and the time would fly.

You were wiping down the counter as EZ browsed his father’s bookshelf looking for something new to read. Unlike Angel he was always stopping in, offering a hand and checking up on you and his Pops. He even would talk to Matt when he’d stop in. EZ liked him, he seemed decent and no one could deny how his presence seemed to lift your spirits, get you excited again.

It was nearing one in the afternoon, the time that Matt would usually come in and you’d close shop for your lunch break. You finished your cleaning, tossing your gloves in the trash bin and then removing your apron and hanging it up on the hook.

You stepped around the corner looking over at the shelf next to EZ as he pulled out a title and examined the back. “Find anything yet?” You asked.

“Yeah,” EZ grinned holding up the book and turning to you. “You know he likes you.” EZ said changing the subject.

“Who?”

“Matt.” He said. He chuckled noticing how you began fiddling with your hands. You might not want to admit it but he knew you liked him too. “He’s a good guy, makes you happy. You deserve that (Y/N). You should give him a chance.”

“I don’t know EZ..” you tried to protest. You did like Matt and he was a great guy but you still couldn’t fully comprehend him liking you back and even so your heart always tugged towards Angel.

“Just try,” EZ encouraged taking your hand in his. “I know you still love Angel but there’s a lot of pain there. Maybe Matt’s what you need right now, a fresh start.” EZ hated himself a little for telling you these. He knew Angel would kill him if ever found out but from how things were going right now your relationship together was toxic. Maybe this was what was best, to let go of each other. He just wanted to see the two of you happy again, to see you stop hurting one another.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” You said leaving it at that. Sure you dated one guy since Angel but that was different. It never went farther than just a few dates and one kiss before you ended things knowing you didn’t feel for him the same way he did for you. You just couldn’t get Angel out of your head, constantly comparing the poor guy to him. With Matt however it was different, Angel was still in the back of your mind but it was easier to forget when you were around Matt. You never compared him to Angel and you couldn’t deny that he made you happy, or was easy on the eyes.

A few days later Matt was in the shop again. You had just had lunch together and he was getting ready to head back out as you resumed your position behind the counter.

He was headed out the door when he stopped himself just short of it. It was now or never he thought. He turned back around stepping up to the counter. You picked your head up smiling at him. Your smile would always be enough to take his breath away, he thought. “Would you like to go out with me? Like on a date?” He asked. On the outside he seemed cool and collected but inside he was more nervous than he had ever been. To say he was rusty would be an understatement. He hadn’t been on a date in forever let alone ask someone on one but you were special. You made him feel like he could have someone to come home to, someone to care for who also cared for him. Like he could have a family one day.

You felt like a silly teenager again, the butterflies swirling inside you. You had hung out plenty of times but never for a date which naturally made you a little nervous. If it wasn’t for EZ’s comment earlier you would have been completely caught off guard but thankfully you were a little prepared. “Okay, yeah.” You decided, giving him a smile before adding, “But only on one condition.”

“Deal,” he said maybe a little too quickly. He grinned back at you loving the way the corner of your eyes crinkled slightly when your smile grew.

“I haven’t even told you the conditions yet,” you laughed lightly at his eager response.

“Whatever it is will be worth it if it means I get to have the evening with you.”

You felt your face flush as you looked down. You met his eyes looking back at him, “Come to my place. Friday, eight pm sharp. Don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He replied grinning. He nodded his head before stepping back. “I can’t wait. See you then (Y/N).” He said before stepping out of the shop and down the street.

Friday night and all the men sat around nursing their beers while they played a hand. The day had been fairly relaxed and everyone was enjoying having the day off.

Coco walked into the clubhouse seemingly just having ended a phone call. He nodded at Bishop getting his attention from the table. Bishop stood up excusing himself from the game and walked into Templo with Coco behind him.

“What’s up, Coco?” He asked once they were in the room.

“Just got off the phone with Matt, he’s on the other side,” Coco explained as Bishop listened carefully, “He’s in a bit of a situation, needs help getting back over.”

“Go,” Bishop told the younger Mayan, “We shouldn’t need you.”

“Aight,” Coco nodded, turning back around to head out.

“Coco!” Bishop called out getting his attention. “Take Angel and EZ with you, you’ll need some backup.”

“No offense, Bish.” Coco addressed his president, “But that sounds like a terribly fucking idea.” They all knew the situation between Angel and Matt was tense, more so with Angel.

“Doesn’t look like Matt’s going anywhere,” Bishop said, stepping closer to Coco, “They have to work this shit out, Angel needs that to get through to him. It’ll be good, for everyone.”

Coco nodded once more before turning back around and out. “Yo Boy Scout, Angel!” He called out. Getting their attention the two Reyes brothers followed him out and to van.

The ride to the tunnels was long and quiet. This was the last place Angel wanted to be but he sucked it up. At least in this way he felt like Coco still needed him even if it was just to save his other fucking best friend. Once there they made their way through and into the vehicle waiting for them on the other side.

They found the location Matt had shared and walked into the building. Matt sprung up aiming at the men causing them to draw their weapons as well before they all lowered them upon the realization of who the other was. Walking over, Matt pulled Coco in for a quick hug a young girl following behind him. “Thanks brother.” He said, patting his back.

“Who’s that?” EZ asked about the young girl. She looked frightened but at least wasn’t injured.

“Don’t need to know,” Matt said plainly. That’s all he could tell these men even if they were trusted friends.

“We come all the way over here to save your ass and you won’t even tell us why?” Angel spoke up, pissed. They were risking their tails without a clue to how dangerous the situation is and he didn’t like being in the damn dark.

“Angel!” Coco scolded. This wasn’t the time for this petty shit.

“I’m just saying we have a right to fuckin’ know! I’m not risking my life for-” Angel’s next words were interrupted by gunshots flying into the small room.

The girl screamed as Matt pushed her under a table to protect her from the bullets raining down on them. “EZ!” Matt called out getting his attention, “Watch the girl.” He ordered before stepping out and shooting back at the men who had ambushed them.

EZ ran over taking guard and cover near the girl shooting at anyone who came near. The four men took out the small team fairly easily. Bodies laid everywhere as they took in the carnage before them.

“Fuck!” Angel shouted, turning towards Matt. “What the fuck was that?! We almost got fucking killed!” He charged towards Matt when one last man who must have been hiding jumped out and tackled him to the ground. Matt, Coco, and EZ watched as the two tussled starting with Angel getting on top and pinning him down.

Angel was living for this. This man was just what he needed, someone he could best the shit out of like he wanted to do to Matt. He landed blow after blow to the guy's face before he managed to get the upper hand himself and got Angel turned around so he was on top with him in a tight choke hold. Angel fought the man taking a little longer than he would like but he knew he could take him down, that he’d kill him.

The fight was taking too long and they didn’t have time for this. Matt pulled his glock out and shot the man point blank in the head finishing the job and ending the struggle.

Angel gasped for air as the sound of the gunshot rang in his ears while he pushed the man off him and wiped the blood from himself. He caught his breath standing up and glared at Matt.

EZ came over in an attempt to make sure his brother was okay but Angel didn’t care. He only had one thing on his mind.

Angel was fuming as he stomped past EZ and up to Matt. “What the fuck was that?!” He barked. Adrenaline coursed through his body from the previous scuffle and his hatred towards this man who was stealing his life away. His chest heaved rapidly as he readied himself for the much needed release of shit that had been building up for too long now. It wasn’t enough to take it all out on everything and anything else around him. He needed to take it out on the root of his problem, Matt.

“Oh, you mean me saving your ass back there?” Matt wasn’t having this crap today. He had put up with Angel for too long now. He just saved his ass, and all Angel was doing was being an ungrateful little shit.

“I had it fucking handled!” Angel defended himself. He didn’t need Matt swooping in and saving the day. He could handle himself, could hold his own and that kill should have been his not fucking Matt’s.

Matt looked Angel up and down only adding to Angel’s irritation. “Could’ve fooled me. Looked like the fucker was going to kill you so I took him out, saved your life. You’re not going to hear an apology from me so if that what you’re waiting for I suggest you walk away and not waste anymore of my fucking time.”

“Right cause you have some big date tonight with my girl!” Angel spat. Yeah he knew about it, EZ had mentioned it to him after you had told him. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The day was long enough as is and as soon as they got back he’d just be stuck thinking about that damn date that should be with him not Matt. He should be coming back from this shit show to your comforting embrace not Matt. That should be him. “Don’t act like you were doing me some big fucking favor. You did that for yourself! So you could play hero and brag all about it to (Y/N) so you can get in her fucking pants! I see right through you Matt, know what guys like you do.” He was lashing out now, hoping to get under Matt’s skin just as deep as he had his. There was no way he was as perfect as he seemed. “You’re just going to use her and then you’re going to throw her away once you get what you want. You’re gonna fucking break her heart, and when you do I’ll be there to clean up the mess.”

“You mean like I’m doing for you? I think we both know that you’ve already handled breaking her just fine yourself.” Matt said stepping up to Angel, the two men’s chests were practically touching by now. “I threaten you Angel, I get that. You’re scared that she’s going to find everything she needs in me. That I’m going to take care of her, respect her,” he spat, “like you should have and she’s going to realize she is much better off without you, that she deserves better.” He snarled. “You know that, I know that, and deep down she knows that too. It’s time you let her go.”

Angel’s eyes darkened with each word that was spat out at him. If steam could physically be coming out of someone’s ears it would be happening to Angel right now. Everything finally was bubbling up and over with actions winning over more words. Without missing a beat he grabbed Matt by the shirt swinging a right hook straight to the side of his face, his large metal rings cutting up his skin with the force of the punch.

Matt staggered back just a little before catching himself. He rolled his jaw, spitting the blood to the ground as he snarled at Angel. Before Angel could react the wind had been knocked out of him with a fierce blow from Matt.

EZ perked up ready to jump into the fight when Coco held his hand out keeping the young Mayan back. He shook his head, “They need this Boy Scout , he needs this.” He told EZ nodding to Angel.

Angel hunched over unable to breath as Matt held him up and pushed him back against the nearest wall. His voice was rough and hushed as he growled into Angel’s ear. “You know I’ve been real patient with you Angel, more so than you deserve, but you know what? You’re right. I did do it for her, not you, because for some reason,” he tightened his hold on Angel pulling back his face so he could look him in the eyes, “for some reason she still cares about you, and I care about her. That’s what you do Angel, when you care for someone. You put their needs above your own. And yeah I’d like more than anything to beat the ever living shit out of you right here and now but I won’t, for her.” It was difficult for him but if he started he may not be able to control himself. He wasn’t going to let Angel push his buttons, wasn’t going to let him feed that monster within. Turning his head to the side he spat more blood out from Angel’s hit, the cut on his lip stinging from the movement. He was done tiptoeing around Angel. He looked back at him challenging the man in front of him. “So Angel, tell me, do you really care about her? Are you going to put her needs for once above your own?”

Angel could finally breathe again as he regained his voice. “What? And that’s supposed to be you?” He snarked.

“Why don’t we let her decide for herself.” Matt said before pushing off Angel. Turning around he headed towards the exit of the building grabbing the girl on his way out. Coco shook his head looking at Angel now hunched over with his hands on his knees before jogging after Matt and catching up beside him patting his shoulder.

EZ walked over helping his brother up. “You okay, Angel?”

Angel wanted to shrug his brother off but he didn’t. He watched as Coco caught up to Matt the betrayal stinging him even more. “Yeah lil bro. Just fuckin’ peachy.”

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[dolcetters]

headcanon  004.  /  the  devil’s  nest  +  relationships

after escaping the fifth laboratory, dolcetto and the other surviving chimeras followed greed down to dublith. here, they slowly settled into a new life and began to forge a family all their own. learning to live with strangers--let alone strangers with damage, unique needs and habits--is never easy. but over time, dol found himself attached. and as painful as losing his second family would be, he’d never consider that attachment a mistake or a vulnerability he shouldn’t have allowed himself. they made life worth living.

axel

things between axel and dol started out rough and never really got better. their personalities clashed immediately, and their tempers weren’t far behind. none of this was helped by axel’s occasional tinkering with alchemy, something that would quickly agitate dol or just generally annoy him. despite this, they were able to work well together when a job required it... usually because “work” allowed them to put any anger toward a different party rather than each other.

fights between them would usually start with dol trying to fix something in the nest--be it the sink, a door, installing a new lock, etc--and axel would state that it would be quicker if he just used alchemy. dol would say that if they wanted things done right it’s best do just do it themselves and not with shitty science-magic. things would amp up from there. thankfully, one would storm off before anything turned physical. apologies were given in small gestures rather than words. they may have frequently fought and been at odds with each other, but it never took away from the loyalty and trust they felt.

bido

to call dol protective of bido would be a bit of an understatement. it’s very much an “i’m the only one allowed to gripe at him” sort of situation ( and said griping would come from a place of worry, much like from a scared parent ). he quickly caught on that bido’s experiences in the labs had left him unstable in more ways than one, and it didn’t take him long to start putting himself between bido and anything--or anyone--who made him uncomfortable. 

despite considering himself bad at giving advice, dol would always listen carefully to bido whenever something had him anxious. he’d make a point to try to mend the situation however he could and go out of his way to make sure bido was safe and guarded when things at the nest got dicey. bido would also sometimes bring back small trinkets or oddities that he’d find while out eavesdropping or exploring, and dol would place them around the shelves and bottles as a bit of extra decoration to give the bar’s front a personal touch. bido was never much shorter than dol, but dol started referring to him as “the little guy” as a term of affection. 

blondie

similar to axel, dol’s relationship with blondie was frequently rocky. this was, in part, because blondie was often one of the first to poke fun at dol when the dogs would influence him. though the two of them would rarely choose to hang out around each other, their spats never got worse than just spats. 

blondie would taunt, dol would yell, and that would usually be the end of it. in some ways, this was also a way of checking on each other. on days blondie didn’t tease, dol would get the idea something was up. and on days dol wouldn’t bristle or bite back, blondie would know something was off. while they never talked anything out, they could sometimes be found having a smoke together in silence on the roof. being a comfort by company. blondie did enjoy hanging out with vulch, however, and this would frequently cause rifts between him and dol.

cain

while his temper could be on par with axel and dolcetto’s, cain was always much quieter and withdrawn. he kept to himself most of the time and didn’t start fights, preferring to be the one who barged in and finished them. he was definitely a “background snarker”, staying silent throughout a conversation until an opening to throw in a jab or smartass remark would present itself. and he had no bias regarding who the jabs were aimed at. sometimes he took your side, other times he’d take you out with the trash. 

while cain and dol got along, all things considered, the guy sometimes gave dol “off” vibes. cain stuck to the shadows, moved around the nest with uncanny silence, and had a habit of seemingly just “appearing” in rooms to lurk and butt into conversation whenever he liked. they did work well together, though. similar to martel, dol and cain were often able to “sense” what move the other was about to make--and they worked off each other fluidly in combat. dol also made sure to help guard cain’s blind spots while in a fight, even if cain didn’t need it. they rarely got into direct fights with each other. any tension usually came in the form of annoyed, tired stares and rolling eyes.

gills

in the same vein as cain, gills often preferred to keep to himself but was rarely found alone. he liked to follow at least one person around the bar and sometimes strike up light conversation with them, though he never stayed past his welcome. dol’s relationship with gills could be described as solid enough. gills respected boundaries, and dol never minded his company or curiosity. 

due to his disfiguration, gills never got to leave the nest too often--especially during day hours. dolcetto would often make it a point to find him after a run or a job and tell him about anything interesting he may have seen in as much detail as he could. and, in turn, gills would share stories about what he could remember before the labs. he’d been a bit of a nomad, if he recalled correctly, hitch-hiking on train cars and seeing as much of amestris as he could. as fine as he was with his nickname, gills wished he could remember his birthname. it became another reason dol was grateful for the older chimera who had once lived in the cell across from him. who’d made him promise to repeat his name to himself, again and again, every “night” before he fell asleep. so he wouldn’t become just another number.

glen

since glen doesn’t live at the nest, he just works there, his relationship with dol was always a little... walking on eggshells. glen respected dol’s need for privacy and personal space, and dol respected glen’s unwillingness to share too much about his life outside of work. there’d be times when glen would ask something he probably shouldn’t have and it’d just be five minutes of awkward, tense silence between the two of them before one of them eventually wandered away or found an excuse to leave. 

overall, their relationship was very surface level. much more acquaintance than friends. and while dol trusted glen with tasks like being a bouncer around the bar or standing guard around the entrances, glen would not be considered trustworthy ( by dolcetto’s standards ) to protect the nest’s occupants as individuals. there would always be an underlying fear that--backs to the wall--glen would sooner sell them out than hide them. he had a life and family outside of the nest’s walls, after all. and while that fear WAS there, dol never took it personally. he understood. all the more reason to ensure he can protect the nest, himself.

greed

complicated. may have been the best word to describe dolcetto and greed’s relationship before the raid on the nest. while dol grew to highly respect greed, value him, and dedicate himself to working for him in return for greed granting him a second life, there were more than enough times that the homunculus just about drove him absolutely batty. greed would take any input dol gave on a plan or idea into consideration, but it’d always be a bit of a coin flip. either he’d take it or he’d completely leave it. and while the latter didn’t always offend dol, nor did he take it too personally, it would sometimes leave him aghast. greed’s sometimes lackadaisical attitude toward his own physical safety would often bring dol to the verge of verbal outbursts or a need to snarl, pace, even go on an aimless run ( all energy runs out eventually, boss, and if you keep wasting yours on senseless shit you’re not gonna have it when you need it ). their relationship pre-raid could easily be described as strictly business, though a bit stronger and more personal on dol’s end. he didn’t really have a word for it at the time.

it wouldn’t be until after the raid, when greed and dolcetto would cross paths again, that dol began to feel out that word. while greed was still greed in many ways, he’d changed in others. their situation had changed, too. they weren’t running a back-end area of a city anymore as info-brokers... they were fugitives again, sure, but the stakes were higher. the threat of loss, heavier. they were each pieces of something torn apart and neither wanted to be separated again. it was during this period of travel, of getting closer to the promised day, that dol began to see greed more as a brother than a boss. someone flawed but reliable, someone who could look at everything wrong with him--the wrongs he’d done--and not bat an eye. and despite knowing damn well just how out of his league he’d be, dol refused to leave greed’s side during the promised day and did whatever he could to keep up with him as everything unfolded. so when greed died, tearing them apart for a second time and cementing dolcetto as the only remaining survivor of their found family... something in him shattered. he quietly disappeared in the crowd after the dust settled, and he’d remain in hiding until greed returned a final time.

gunshow

much of gunshow and dolcetto’s interactions could be considered playful and relaxed. they’d often exchange harmless banter while doing chores and odd-jobs around the nest to keep things up and running, and said banter would never become antagonistic or risk crossing boundaries. gunshow was laid-back, maybe a bit too much for his own good, and he easily rolled with whatever punches were thrown at him. any hot-headed remarks dol would make--usually out of accident--would just roll off his shoulders. they got along well, even if they didn’t usually seek out each other’s company. 

due to the lack of automail experts in the area, gunshow often had to deal with an annoying malfunction or two when older pieces of his arms would start to wear or break. dol was the only one he trusted to try fixing them ( axel tried to fix them with alchemy once and it did not end well ). these “fixes” were usually akin to “slap some duct tape on it”, but they worked well enough until they were able to find something that actually worked or someone who actually knew what the hell they were doing. and since it was automail, dol didn’t have a problem with touching or tinkering with gunshow’s arms... though, he did still have a problem with gunshow touching him directly with his hands. metal or not, hands are hands. he hates being grabbed.

martel

one of two people dolcetto knew before the labs, martel was easily one of the nest members dol was closest to. they met in academy and developed a bond through friendly competition. discovering that they had both wound up as experiments in the labs was... much more bitter than sweet. their cells weren’t close to each other, and often they’d only get glimpses of one other when moved from room to room. more time was spent worrying that one of them would die and simply “disappear” than they got to be comforted by a familiar face. it wouldn’t be until greed ransacked the labs that they’d be reunited in earnest. 

once in dublith, much of their healing was done together or with roa. martel tends to be the most mischievous of the three, sometimes causing trouble for the thrill that dol “angrily” would bail her out of while roa remained stern but amused. dol never doubted her abilities, be it in combat or in intel. he admired her wit, her resourcefulness, how laser focused she could be. and martel was one of the very few people in the nest who could touch him--usually on the shoulder or forearm--without him feeling overly anxious. he may have fallen uselessly in love with her, in a sense. though whether or not these feelings were ever reciprocated is unknown. they never got the chance.

owen

in a similar way that axel and dol clashed immediately, owen and dol clicked immediately. owen had an easy-going nature and a quiet patience to him, keeping a level head without problem whenever the more explosive personalities started tension in the nest. he’d often fall into the role of a mediator, and this was extremely important during the first several weeks of freedom as the fugitive family struggled to get to know each other AND adjust to life outside the labs. 

owen preferred to keep to himself. not because he didn’t like the company of his family, he just enjoyed quieter moments and being left to his tasks or hobbies. dol was drawn to this since he knew he’d always be able to just sit in whatever room owen occupied without the pressure to start and hold a conversation. owen often encouraged dol not to be so hard on himself, and dol was always the first to step in with light reminders whenever owen’s memory would start to fail him. they kept an eye on each others backs, as one’s weaknesses were often the other’s strength. this quiet, but strong, bond between the two is likely what lead to owen’s uncharacteristic rage when bradley stabbed dol from behind. as well as dol frequently being haunted by the image of owen’s corpse after her woke up from shock.

roa

the second of two people dol knew before the labs, roa came into dol’s life shortly after arriving in ishval. the older man had been stationed for a while ( and would remain for some time after dol and martel were taken underground ), and he soon took dol under his wing. while not a father figure quite yet, roa served the role as a mentor of sorts, helping dol and martel adjust to the shock of being on the field rather than training. and when he eventually wound up in the labs, it was similar to the situation dol had with martel. less the comfort of a familiar face, and more the constant worry that the glimpse you got of them in the corridor may have been the last time you’d see them again.

dolcetto, martel, and roa stuck close to each other throughout their first several weeks in dublith. roa was often the calm between their storms, the voice of reason when tension would build. there was a lot of his father that dol saw in roa. they had the same silent strength, cool-headedness, and wisdom. dol would often seek out roa for advice and insight, or simply go to him when he needed a sense of security and safety. roa was another of the few in the nest who could get away with touching dol, and he was the only one who could wrap a whole arm around dolcetto without the threat of losing it. though the reasoning was never given, roa gifted dolcetto with his old wedding ring maybe a month or two before the raid. somehow, he’d managed to keep it with him after all this time. dol didn’t really know what to do with it, but he kept it safely stored in one of his matchboxes. it wasn’t until after the raid that he found a chain necklace to keep it on so he could ensure roa would always be close.

smokes

sort of in the same realm as glen, smokes and dol had a very surface-level relationship, much more along the lines of acquaintances than friends. smokes was always a bit more clumsy and unaware than glen, however, when it came to conversation and certain topics best left off-limits. which lead to more frequent hostility on dol’s part. didn’t help that smokes tended to be much more sociable than glen did, sometimes butting into circles he hadn’t been invited into.

it might’ve been smokes’ lack of tact that lead to dol being less interested in being around him. he tended to try avoiding the guy when he could; this was actually because he thought smokes was nice just... stupid. and he didn’t want to end up hurting him in an outburst, be it physically or emotionally. the guy meant well, he was just... fucking stupid. and, as with glen, dol trusted him more as a bouncer or front guard than he ever would protecting the occupants of the nest.

vi

if dolcetto sees his father in roa, he sees his little sister in vi. though shy and timid at first, once vi deems you trustworthy and comes out of her shell, she’s mischievous, curious, energetic and full of personality with a bizarre sense of humor. similar to gills, vi rarely got the opportunity to leave the nest, both because of her disfigurements and because of the potential danger she could pose to those around her if her wrappings even slightly slipped. her wrappings would also cause her frequent depression as it effected her not just from a transitional standpoint but just... in general appearances. she’d get jealous of the women she’d see in the bar who got to wear heels and dresses and had hair to style ( as the condition of her skin paired with her wrappings would often cause her hair to fall out ). if there was ever an opportunity to bring back something vi could try on in private, dol would be one of the nest members to actively seek something out. like how roa took dol and martel under his wing, they took vi under theirs. 

despite her unnerving and almost frail appearance--wrappings or her semi-translucent skin--vi is far from helpless. put a gun in her hands, and she’s an excellent shot. she’s also unbothered by the effect her skin has on others that she’s come to consider a threat, and won’t hesitate to use it as a weapon. a fight broke out in the bar, once, with a rival gang, and one of the opposing members caught her in a headlock, pistol to her temple. while dolcetto distracted him with insults and threats, vi pulled the bandages around her hand loose with her teeth. and the moment an opening came--when the gang member pointed the gun at dol--she clamped her bare hand over his face, poisoning, burning, and marring it immediately. then she stole his wallet and his gun, using the loose cash to buy dolcetto some cigarettes as a thank you. dolcetto hates... hates... that he was never able to find her during the raid. after everything went to hell she just. disappeared.

vulch

out of everyone in the nest, dolcetto got along with vulch the absolute least. even though he considered vulch family, he almost detested him. any familial bond that existed was much more spurred from “we have the labs/trauma as common ground, and we owe it to each other to keep ourselves safe” than it was any sort of connection. vulch never had any sense of self control, and he got off on riling up the members of the nest who had hotter tempers ( because, as big and literally thick skinned as he was, he knew he could handle them lashing out ). and he frequently targeted dol due to how easy it was to poke and prod at his animal-related sore spots and because dol was significantly smaller than him.

dolcetto would often do whatever it took to avoid having to work with vulch, be it during a shift at the bar or some sort of job for greed. he’d never abandon or leave vulch for dead if things went south, of course, but he knew things would be less productive and efficient with the two of them in the same room for a prolonged amount of time. the way vulch spoke to, and about, women would also often drive dol up a wall, and he’d frequently mutter to vi “the next time he does that, slap him with your wrappings off” as a joke. martel once stabbed vulch’s hand while it was flat on a table--pinning it there until he eventually tore the knife free--and there was much rejoicing. 

[tuwam]

every corner of the institute has been laid tense and quiet by the eggshells the members have to dance around. eggshells planted carefully, cracking with each situation that seems to throw itself at their doorsteps. minsoo, currently still bouncing back and forth from training and the infirmary when his pain gets to be too much. yeonhee, who is keeping herself up to her pristine reputation just a little too much ( annoyingly so actually ) with the amount of shadowhunters coming in from various, concerning wounds. kae who despite his patience has found more desperation and rigor in his routines for their training. teachers who are doing more but saying less, pushing more but revealing less.

there’s mina, who was always a pleasure to see despite her schedule, is hovering around them with eyes looking through them like a lioness scans fields while her children play.

it’s quite terrifying though maybe it’s supposed to be comforting. everyone around them doing what they can to protect, but doing it under the shadow of ignorance, ignorance that’s trailing the small stench of fear through the institute. 

then there’s minjae. and minjae is the tip of it all. since the arrival of him and mina’s brother, minjae’s temperament is the definition of walking on eggshells. he’s taken to skipping lunches now that lexie’s amassed some comfort to talk with them before the bells ring. she doesn’t sit with them the full time yet but she comes for longer periods of time before lunch break is over and that’s enough. it’d be even better if minjae would stop making his deference so obvious, especially because some of the younger boys follow his motions like some kind of pack leader. it’s rather childish and seoyoung - she’s had enough. 

there haven’t been many missions for younger recruits but because of the necessity of her training she’s had more in-field practice. that means, less time for minjae to come in with scrapes, but more time for him to come when he’s avoiding another lesson. focuses recently have been on runes and spells, combat training and defensive training. seoyoung’s hand aches with the amount of runes she’s drawn today, with the abrasions from how many stitches she’s fixated but it itches for the feel of her weapons or at least the wraps she wears to train. so much so that after another display of minjae’s attitude, a cross of harsh words between him and a senior trainer, and whispers again about his snappiness, she’s marching towards the training room.

‘you wanna spar?’ “yeah, i do.”

they both have the time. the words come out of nowhere, a small break in the hushed noises that seem to fill every room nowadays. the institute is still lively yes, but in a more reserved way, people too caught in their thoughts and their duties to take a breath. when she asks, practically marching into the room after lunch, eyes are on all of them, particularly minjae who’s shining his tools, sweating from a previous combat session. seoyoung’s tying her hair up, fastening the ties around her wrist and he’s watching her, curiously, evenly. there’s something about minjae’s stare that helps her understand the hesitance people may have to challenge him. but she shrugs it off, as easily as she’s seen his sister do and the smile he gives is immediate.

‘yeah let’s do it.’ 

yeonhee is hanbyul’s prodigy by far, quick to think, assess and move despite the chaos of the infirmary. seoyoung is most definitely kae’s, and for all minjae’s training and bravado, it’s something that even he knows. the sparring mat is cleared and seoyoung feels the comfort of her boots and the snug material of her training gear. she feels at home, and despite every breath that’s been small, labored around everyone at the institute, she truly breathes this one in. 

minjae is in his element, but she knows his skill is the cleverness that comes alive on the field. his hair’s pulled back, he’s not the wild kid trying to scare newbies and brushing brash with everyone around him. he’s the boy she’d seen fight and smile up at her the first day she walked in these doors. 

‘i’ll buy lunch if you land a hit.’ “i’ll let you buy me lunch when i do.”

one of the upperclassmen is between them, his arm adorned with runes she’d had to spruce up just a few hours ago. he grins, obviously ready for what’s going to take place and the group around them that’s amassed. 

‘clean fight guys.’

chuckles amass around them and seoyoung’s grin mirrors his own. the whistle blows and her grip on her wooden staff tightens. minjae’s foot shifts, seoyoung’s own follows. he doesn’t take the time to size her up - never does, and in the motion he takes to rush forward she’s ducking under. minjae’s fast, always has been - but she’s just a little faster and with more energy from not sparring all day as he’s been. so she ducks the strike, uses her momentum to come behind him and when he blocks the strike with his left arm, she swipes her leg under his feet to trip him up.

minjae recovers fast, and as he rolls out of it he’s able to block her oncoming strike once more. they’re quick, and this block is the first breath she’s taken since they started. where seoyoung is patient minjae is still strong, so she moves back almost immediately before he can use that strength to push her back.

minjae hates being on the defensive so she prepares herself for the strength he’ll pour into each swing once he has an advantage. so he rushes forward, she grips the staff in her hands and prepares to block each strike. they have more weight and he’s trying to push her back, tire her out so he can sneak a hit in. seoyoung matches each strike but her footing suffers by the sheer weight with each swing. she’s still fast enough to hold her ground and she knew she’d be on the defensive, that’s just how it is. the thing is, minjae trying to push his way past like this is going to be his downfall, and she knows it well. 

she lets her foot slip a bit further, she lets him press harded and push her back farther, just so she can catch him off-guard when he thinks he’s won. and she does, she stands her ground, puts more weight in her feet to dodge a particularly sloppy strike, one that he probably thought would win it all, and she pivots under and around to strike him on the shoulder. between the weight shift and all the energy he’d used in the strike, for it to fail causes minjae falling forward and the strike is enough for him to lose his balance and fall onto the mat. seoyoung holds the staff firm against his chest when he turns to face her, fists gripped around his weapon.

heavy breaths can be heard between the silence of the training room and sweat slides from her forehead as they lock eyes. minjae, who hates to lose, minjae whose been a hothead for the past few weeks, looking up at her and everyone looking like she’s dealt the final straw. breaths are held and no one moves for a few seconds, everyone wondering how he’ll react based on how he’s been. but seoyoung knows him, better than those with a surface level idea of him.

“if your head was out your ass you’d have dodged that.” ‘oh yeah?’ “yeah. and you’d stop ostracizing the people you need." ‘like who?’ “your family? your new partner? there’s enough happening.”

and she’s angry too, she’s just better at channeling it. she’s angry because there’s no time for issues like this. there’s no time for minjae to be ostracizing new recruits like lexie who are here to help risk their life for the unknown. there’s no time for minjae to be so clouded by it that he can’t put up a fight worth anything. there’s no time and seoyoung will be damned if it gets him hurt out there.

‘yeah okay, don’t lecture me.’ “someone needs to.” but he’s smiling, a dry laugh slipping out as he gets to his feet. ‘yeah yeah, what are you hungry for?’ “barbecue please.”

‘point to seoyoung.’ the upperclassman finally calls the spar and breaths are finally taken all around them. hustle finally seeps back into the room and the bubble is burst. minjae wipes the sweat from his brow and tosses both their staffs to the side.

‘best two out of three when we’re done.’ “how about you handle your apologies first.” he doesn’t say anything to that, just scoffs and lets her follow him out the training room and towards the entrance doors. the air will do him good too, and despite how he comes off, or how they view him he’s slipping his jacket on her five seconds out the door and an extra steele in his pocket when they hit the streets to go eat. 

this is the minjae she knows. 

[flightofaqrow]

mothering (on mother’s day)

qrow + Sun Wukong ( @ultravioletvoleur​ )

fighting clearly hadn’t been what was on the kid’s mind. maybe he just wasn’t thinkin’ at all; he definitely isn’t right now as words tumble from his mouth, barely coherent. qrow still doesn’t need to hear these things about his niece, but he’ll let this one slide.

Sun leans his back against the wall, tail swaying to and fro. His face spoke to the internal conflict he was struggling with when it came to this, “I was hoping I could actually… Ask for your advice?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Quick update, may wanna say Happy Mother's Day to your niece. ...Kaybye!"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow whips open Harbinger faster than a nevermore diving upon its prey, and fires a warning shot off as Sun makes a break for it, near missing the base of his tail.

he knows the kid well enough by now, and trusts Yang even more, than to truly buy into the implications of his statement. oh, but if playing this cat and mouse game makes the cheeky monkey so happy, qrow will absolutely go a round.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“YIPE!”

That was a much faster reaction than he’d anticipated, barely making it ten feet before the crack of exploding gunpowder rang out. There was a hole smoking in the wall in front of him- dangerously close to banana height, and Sun began sweating. He turned very jerkily, with the closest approximation of a cocksure grin he could manage through his abject terror.

“Oh, uh. D-did you… Need something?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

well, at least qrow got to make a point, should he ever actually need to act on teaching the kid a thing or two. alternatively, about picking fights one may not be able to win. a similar tough past he may have, thieves at least tended to work from codes of honor. not every struggle is the same.

he prods, sarcastic, feigned anger lining the sharp curve of narrowed eyes, sword still deployed at his side, “what in all of remnant makes you think you can just say things to me?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

There is a very audible gulp as the Hunstman advances on him. Every other time they’d traded barbs, he’d gotten the sense that Qrow was something of an old glory days kind of person, who had lost their touch a bit. However, that split second action, and the pointed glare burning through his confidence like a hot knife through butter, told him a whole new story.

Qrow Branwen was what his nightmares were made of.

“Well you see I thought we were buddies and I thought you would know it was a joke I swear I haven’t laid a hand on your niece like that I would never well not never possibly in the future but definitely not right now not that I don’t think she’s attractive she’s very attractive oh but that’s not the only reason-”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

tch. forever a curse, even at his best. maybe he laid on the drama a bit too thick. honestly, he thought a bit of zeal is something Sun could appreciate. he’s far too much talk still, isn’t he? all bright light and translucent beaming rays which still questioned their own substance. he might be further ahead than he seemed at first, but still has a ways to go. …kids these days.

“of course I knew it was a joke, golden boy.” qrow folds away his weapon, drops his stance, while raising a brow. he lessens his posturing, but not his attention, hand still remaining on Harbinger’s hilt in the case of some trick.

“but I also took it as a taunt, tellin’ me you’re finally ready for a real man’s brawl. heh, guess i was wrong.”

fighting clearly hadn’t been what was on the kid’s mind. maybe he just wasn’t thinkin’ at all; he definitely isn’t right now as words tumble from his mouth, barely coherent. qrow still doesn’t need to hear these things about his niece, but he’ll let this one slide.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“What?!”

He’d almost lost his stones by way of his ass for a sassback?! Their Uncle was even more intimidating now, and he was going to die on that hill. Still, though, knowing that he wasn’t actually angry was a huge relief. The tension left his body and he slumped down with a sigh-

And then he noticed Qrow’s weapon was still out and ready.

“He-hey, uh. N-no need for that. I didn’t come here looking for a fight. I actually wanted to get you riled up so we could then use that energy into doing something for her. I- I know her situation with her mom isn’t great. I dunno the specifics, that’s for her to tell me when she’s ready, but…” He trailed off, trying to find the words.

“Well, I guess… I just want to make today lively for her, instead of having people walking on eggshells around her. Make her excited and happy that today happened, rather than add it to a growing pile of disappointing holidays.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“you moron,” finally, he fully releases, instead staring dumbfounded at the other. he really did think he could just come around and say whatever, and still get his way without consequences. what single-minded, reckless, stupid drivel. yeah, qrow had been an idiot brained teen at one point, but seriously never that bad. he didn’t have that kinda energy. different plans took different tactics, did they not teach anything at Haven or Shade anymore?

“i don’t need to be ‘riled up’ to do something for my family, kid. couldn’t you just ask like a normal person? i promise you, me bein’ jazzed up ain’t the kinda lively she needs.”

eyes now round with sadness; his chest deflates; pointed corners of his mouth turn down. it’s too close to the belligerence he used to have - unprovoked, but drunk. he’s trying so hard to be better than that. for a lotta reasons, but Yang too.

he breathes in, and out, fingers running in and out over his forehead. once satisfied in processing all these thoughts, in having switched gears, he turns to Sun once more, hopefully coming off with the same rational attitude he wants in return, “so, then, turn your brain and your sense of respect on, and just tell me what you had in mind, huh?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Well… That’s kinda the thing. I was hoping I could actually… Ask for your advice?”

He leans his back against the wall, tail swaying to and fro. His face spoke to the internal conflict he was struggling with when it came to this. In truth, he’d wanted to go about this like a normal person, more than anything. Something in him, however, be it a defense mechanism or just a general need for attention he’d never really received drove him to do everything to an excess.

Truth be told, nobody hated Sun’s antics more than he, himself.

“I… I’m going to try to be serious here, for a minute. It’s- It’s not something that comes easy.” He sighed and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I’m… scared. I’m really, truly scared, Qrow, of how she makes me feel. How much it would hurt to lose her, or even see her hurting. I just get so caught up in my own head that I can’t think straight, and… I’ve never…”

Another sigh. “I’ve never had a family before. So I don’t know what to do to help someone who’s mourning theirs. But I see her hurting, and I want to help, and when I came to you, I swear, I wanted to just ask, but. …That would mean… Admitting I love her.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

oh, here we go. this roller coaster again. what about his look or his life or any of his choices made him seem like someone to go to for advice? qrow barely scraped his own life together, and still dropped the pieces too many times. but somewhere along the line, somewhere in just trying to do good - for his team, for Oz, for his family, for Ruby, something must have slipped in to his very psyche, huh.

Ruby somehow always knows the right thing to do. Yang had told her.

I had good role models. Ruby had told him.

he’s cursed. and he wrestles with it every damn day. and while he’d never call it a good thing, maybe some people see themselves in that same fight. maybe he sees himself in theirs and their struggle to understand and express themselves, and that’s why even in the times he wants nothing to do with other people and their decisions, and he’s sure he’ll just mess everything up, he can’t help but listen. he can’t turn them away. doing so would do nothing to mend the wounds of a broken world. and in the end, continuing to try is the only way to stick it to Salem.

he takes a spot next to the young man against the wall, knee bending and sole kicking up as he leans, crosses his arms, turns his head to Sun and fixes his gaze on him.  

“yeah. loving people is scary. probably means you’re doin’ it right.”

qrow doesn’t know a damn thing about romance. not like that, anyway. he’s never been brave enough to face that very fear, to let someone that intimately close. almost, sometimes, maybe. somehow his chances always disappear before he’s quite there, only confirming those very fears. a great and terrible feedback loop, that. although, he can’t say such words are entirely unfamiliar; admittedly, the whole conversation is nostalgic. thrice over. he laughs, a bittersweet little huff, “…you sound just like her parents.”

that kinda love he knows, found, eventually. family. and if you ask him, they’re equally as scary to think of losing. “our family has never been the typical picket fence dream either, so don’t think you’re missin’ pieces of some non-existent normal. there’s no big secret about bein’ one, kid. you just gotta be there for each other.”

a palm-down hand raises to sweep across his body in a dismissive motion, “an’ not everything has to be some grand production to top the one before. trust me, i’ve screwed that up enough times to know.” qrow looks towards the ground, slides the toe of his shoe back and forth. “Yang, she… she’s used to people comin’ and goin’ in her life. if they come back at all. so, seriously… just go to her. be with her. she’s a tough egg, and too smart. she’ll tell you what she needs if you can just shut your giant trap enough to let her.”

[tarlosprompts]

Self-Destruct

Person A: “Why me?”

Person B: “What?”

Person A: “You could have had anyone, so why me?”

Person B: “.....Because you’re the only one I want, you always have been.... Is that really so hard to believe?”

Warnings: past drug addiction, past overdose, drug house, high teens, mild violence

Also, some of my information my not be correct in the drug world, so sorry.

Shout out to @write-it-motherfuckers​ for the prompt, I saw it when scrolling through my feed.

-Red💋

Part 2

TK Strand loved his job. He loved his job and the people he got to work with. Hell, he’d met the love of his life through his job. Officer Carlos Reyes. The Latino man was perfect in every way and TK was quite sure he didn’t deserve him most days...okay, so all of the time, but he wouldn’t be admitting that any time soon.

That’s why TK was in this funk and had been for the past few days. Thankfully Carlos and he had opposing shifts meaning that he hadn’t had to confront the man in this sour mood. Bad news, his crew had to deal with him. His father was giving him space, but he was pretty sure that if he kept up with his attitude, his dad would pull him aside to have a chat and TK definitely didn’t want that. Judd had tried to talk to him a couple of hours into the shift on his third day of being in the funk.

To say he’d bitten Judd’s head off would be an understatement. TK felt horrible about it. Judd cared about him, and he’d thrown it back in his face. This was further proof that he was undeserving of not only Carlos, but everyone around him. He fucked everything up constantly. 

Mateo and Marjan had both tried to talk to him subtly about his funk, but TK was having none of that. At the last minute, TK had been able to bite his tongue and walk away so as to not tear his teammates apart. The look on his face must have portrayed his annoyance and funk because none of the other firefighters approached him. He’d even caught a few going out of their way to stay as far away from him as possible.

The only person he could stand to be around at this point was Buttercup, the damn dog he said he wouldn’t let in because he wouldn’t be able to handle losing the dog to the same sickness his father had. He told Buttercup everything, muttered it into the brown fur, shed a couple of tears and locked it up again.

TK shook his hands out as the alarm blared. He was utterly professional on calls. He wouldn’t let his troubles fuck up someone else’s life. The ride to the call was quiet other than the rattling of the truck.

Upon arriving at the scene, TK felt his stomach drop as he got a good look at the people surrounding the house. He felt his lips form a thin line as his dad talked to the police Sergeant in charge of the scene. As Owen made it back over, TK could see the pinch at his eyes. “Drug bust gone wrong. This was half a stash house, half hideout for people to get high. Multiple injuries inside and outside. We were called to extract a couple of teens who fell through the floor near the back of the house.”

TK didn’t wait for a command, going over to the truck to grab harnesses that would be used to lower him and someone else down to get the two teens. As he began to harness up, a hand touched his shoulder. He looked up to see his dad giving him a look he knew too well. It was the look that said that he didn’t want to bring up his addiction but he was worried. “TK-”

“I can do my job. Just because this was a house full of junkies and I used to be one doesn’t mean I’m going to go home and relapse. You can’t keep me from doing my job every time it hits a little too close for home,” TK growled, shoving the second harness to Marjan. “This is the one part of the job I’m good at, rescuing people who got in over their head. So can you not act like a concerned father and act like a Captain who knows who on his team is best suited for what?”

“As your Captain, I should even have let you out of the firehouse with the way you’ve been acting today,” Owen’s eyes narrowed.

“Well you did, so at least let me do something I’m good at.”

____________

Before long, TK and Marjan were being lowered into the hole made by the teenagers falling through the floor. They hadn’t been able to talk with the teens, so each were paired with a dose of Narcan in case the teens had overdosed after the floor collapsed. 

TK and Marjan scanned their flashlights around the room slowly. “Fire Department! Call out so we know where you are,” TK called. Hearing something to his right, he turned just in time to have something collide with his head. “Fuck...Marj?”

“I don’t see them. They just disappeared in the dark. Are you alright?”

“I’m good,” he grumbled as he stood, eyes darting through the shadows. That answered a few questions on what the kids could have taken. Whatever it was, was probably causing hallucinations. The lashing out is because they were scared of whatever they were seeing due to the drug. “They’re not trying to hurt us. They’re scared,” he called. 

“But we’re trying to help them,” Marjan stated.

“Yes, but the drug isn’t letting them understand that. All they know is that they fell through the floor and are probably in pain. Whatever they took probably has hallucinogenic properties which is why they’re lashing out...because they want to protect themselves. One of them is probably too hurt to move which is fueling the hallucination and their need to protect.”

“What’s going on down there,” their radios crackled.

TK heard Marjan respond, but he was too focused on the pipe coming straight towards his face. He barely got his hands up before the pipe hit him. He grunted, grabbing hold of the pipe and yanking it towards him. A shaggy brunette just a couple of inches taller than him staggered forward. “You won’t hurt him,” he growled.

“I don’t want to hurt your friend. I want to help,” he had to get a read on how strung out the kid was. As the kid continued to fight against him, TK’s answer was clear. Too strung out to reason with. “Marj, be careful, but look for the other teen. I’ve got this one.”

“You sure?”

“Marjan,” he shouted, getting her into motion.

Taking a punch to the face, TK muttered to himself as he stumbled back. He caught the next punch, returning the favor with one of his own while simultaneously taking the teen to his knees. He used the momentum to push the kid to the ground and put his body weight to use trying to keep the guy down. He got an elbow to the jaw for his troubles, immediately feeling blood start to enter his mouth from the split lip the elbow caused.

As much as TK wanted to ram the kid’s head into the cement below them, he refrained. This was just a strung out kid, he didn’t know what he was doing. He kept the mantra ‘this is just a kid’ even as the kid brought his head back to headbutt him. 

A couple of minutes later had Marjan returning with the injured teen and TK sitting beside an unconscious teen. She rose an eyebrow at him and he glared. “There was no reasoning with him. I thought he’d stop after the first couple of times I hit him, but he kept going.”

He stood, holding on tightly to the unconscious teen as Marjan radioed the team that they were ready to come topside. The looks he got from the three remaining team members further soured his mood. He rolled his eyes as Michelle took the teen from him. “You got all of that,” Judd pointed to his face, “from that green bean?”

TK felt his eye twitch, but he bit his tongue, turning around and stalking out of the house. He ignored the look on his dad’s face as he passed him. The ride back to the station was even quieter than the ride to the house. He couldn’t wait to get a shower to wash off the aches, blood, and memories. 

Before TK could run off to the showers, he was stopped by his dad. “TK, a word?”

“Can I shower first?”

Owen’s face said that it wasn’t an option. TK felt the nervous energy that coated his body. He needed a shower or he was going to explode and really fuck everything up. “I need a shower then we can talk,” TK’s voice shook with the strain of keeping the memories from overtaking him. The memories of the times he was in a hideout with his friends getting higher than the sun. Memories of being too doped out of his mind to stop his friend from overdosing. Memories of the highs.

“Your behavior for the past few days has been unacceptable, TK. We need to talk now.”

Something snapped, and it all came tumbling out. Everything he wanted to keep hidden from his dad and team...from Carlos. “From the way I’ve been acting I should have been fired days ago,” he shouted, turning away from his team. “Every time I think I have something-every time I think I’m going to be good or my life is good I go and I fuck it up! First it was with drugs, I started using and hasn’t that fucked me up enough,” he laughed, beginning to pace.

“And-And every time I think I have myself together, you all just walk on eggshells around me. Ever since I told you about my addiction, you walk on eggshells and Dad, you’ve done that since you found out about my addiction! It drives me mad because I’m not some breakable teen who will relapse at the wrong word out of your mouths! And to hell if I don’t think about using every once in a while, but I never do anything about it because I’m doing so good. And then I’m not doing good and I’m wondering how any of you can see me-how any of you can like this,” he motioned to himself, “to me.”

“Every time something good comes into my life, it gets taken away and I’m just waiting for this to slip from my grip too. I loved a man, was willing to give my all to him, was willing to marry him and the night I wanted to propose to him, he told me he was in love with someone else and had been cheating on me for months. He slipped through my fingers and I fucking relapsed like a child and I died on you,” he looked at Owen, but he turned back to his pacing just as quickly as he’d stopped.

“I didn’t like the firehouse in New York. We weren’t a family, not like this. I wasn’t scared of losing them. I’m scared of losing all of you. I’m afraid of fucking up so badly that I lose all of you and I can’t stop fucking thinking about it. And that makes me wonder how anyone can be happy with me around. How can anyone love me the way I love them? How can someone love a fuck up like me? A former junkie? An addict? Someone who has to struggle every day with his addiction because he was stupid enough to get addicted to drugs. I don’t deserve any of you and you all deserve so much better,” his voice was quiet as he finished his rant. He ran a hand down his face, scrubbing the tears that had fallen. “I really need that shower.”

____________

TK had skipped the shower. He’d snuck out through the back and started to walk home. He’d spilled all of his thoughts just because a call had brought up a few bad memories. He wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t have a job to come back to come tomorrow. 

TK didn’t know where he was going. He only had one thought, and that was to get out of his head. He couldn’t take it anymore. The more he thought about how he’d screwed up, the more he thinks of his fuck ups, the more he gets that itch to use. He fucking refused to relapse. 

That’s how TK found himself staring at the door in front of him. The Camero in front suggested that Carlos was home. Before he knew it, he was knocking. He bit his lip, starting to back away from the door as it began to open. Before he could turn tail and run, Carlos was calling his name. “Tyler? Aren’t you supposed to be on shift?”

TK slowly turned around, noticing how Carlos’s eyes trailed over his face and how his frown deepened. Carlos gently pulled TK into the house, sitting him on the couch before going to retrieve the first aid kit. He returned in a matter of seconds, crouching in front of TK and starting to clean up his wounds. The look in TK’s eyes scared him, if he was being honest. 

They didn’t talk as Carlos cleaned up the blood from the split lip. But as Carlos began to stand up and go to put the kit back up, TK spoke. “Why me,” his voice was so quiet, Carlos almost thought he imagined his voice.

The way TK pointedly didn’t look at him was all the proof Carlos needed to know that TK had spoken. “What do you mean?”

“You could have had anyone, why me?”

Carlos was back to crouching in front of TK, trying to get him to meet his eyes. Finally, he placed his hands on either side of TK’s face, making him look at him. “Because you’re the one I want, Tyler, you always have been.” He bit his lip as he saw the look of doubt in TK’s eyes. “Is that really so hard to believe, Tyler Kennedy? I love you so much it hurts. I want to have everything with you because I love you. If it takes me the rest of my life trying to prove it to you, I will. You mean everything to me. Mi Mundo, mi sol, I love you and I always will.”

[dukedrakes]

Finally

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Lily)

Rating: PG-13 (some cursing)

Words: 2.3K

Summary: Lily and Ethan finally talk about ‘us’.

This was requested by a beautiful anon who wanted to see my take on what happens when Ethan and MC finally decide to screw ethics and let themselves be together – I’m so sorry it’s taken so long; life hasn’t been kind. Thank you so much for the request and please send me any prompts if you like!

P.S I really miss Ethan.

Don’t forget to tell me what you think, Reblog and Like! Enjoy!

Find my other work here.

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Lily sat in the locker room bench; legs crossed with a medical textbook in front of her. She had an apple in her hand which she ate she scanned through the passages filled with medical jargon that might help her with treating one her patients. It was unusually quiet in the locker room, no doors slammed or chatter from the other residents. But Lily welcomed the serenity, it gave her the opportunity to focus and concentrate on the words in front of her.

However, she couldn’t. For a certain fellow member of the Diagnostics Team was consuming her thoughts instead.

It had been exactly 4 months and 17 days since she’d been offered the position that everyone had been vying over. And it had also been exactly 4 months and 17 days since whatever was between herself and Dr. Ethan Ramsey had ended. In truth, she wasn’t expecting it to hurt as much as it did. Even though she’d known that night before was going to be their last now that Ethan had been reinstated. She thought she had prepared enough emotionally. That their night together would’ve satisfied her enough to let him go. But she was wrong. Incredibly wrong.

She hadn’t expected to be offered the position on the Diagnostics Team, she was grateful to be even given a second chance at Edenbrook. She definitely hadn’t anticipated being promoted. And certainly not to the very team where the man running it was one she’d slept with twice and had an undeniable connection with.

She knew ending whatever it was between them was the right thing to do. She knew that. But it was still hard. Especially when she saw Ethan every day, had to work with him on patients, confer with him on treatment plans – all the while pretending that everything was fine when in reality, she wanted nothing more than to take his hand in hers and just touch him.

That was the thing that got her the most. Not being able to just touch him. Hold his hand. Trace her fingers up his arm. Or run her fingers across the stubble on her jaw – her favourite thing to do. She could handle not kissing him – she wanted to do that too – but to be starved of his touch was the hardest. There were times where Ethan’s hand would graze hers as he pointed to something on a chart, or his arm would brush against hers as he passed her, and the energy of that contact travelled through her entire being, giving her goosebumps and making her stomach flip. It was kind of like that feeling you get when you accidentally touch the person you’ve been crushing on, but it was all backwards because Lily had already been with Ethan.

Lily sighed and closed her textbook and tossed her apple core in the bin. She put her head in her hands. She didn’t know what to do. She’d been pretending and walking on eggshells around Ethan for months now. She was tired. And she didn’t know how long she could keep this up. It was even more of a stab in the heart when she saw Ethan being so irrevocably and completely normal around her. Like nothing had changed. Like nothing had even happened between them. It was like Lily had imagined the whole thing and was holding onto nothing but a fantasy.

She stood up and put the textbook in her locker. With her break over and no progress on a plan for her patient, she straightened her classic white doctor jacket in the mirror, before leaving the locker room. She walked down the hallways, making her way to Ethan’s office, her feet knowing the familiar route without even thinking about it. She needed advice on her patient, and she was clearly getting nowhere by herself. She had no choice but to talk to Ethan. No matter how much she didn’t want to. It was much easier to pretend when she wasn’t near him.

It wasn’t long before she was in front of his office door. The dark blue nameplate that read “Dr. Ethan Ramsey” a contrast to the light wood of the door. He might not even be in his office. She hoped he wouldn’t be. But there was also a part of her that wanted to see him. Because this was all she got now. She had to take what she could get. Until she eventually got over him. If she ever did.

Lily took a deep breath and raised her slightly trembling hand to the wood of the door. She stood there for a few seconds that felt more like hours, contemplating whether to even bother Ethan with this, he’s no doubt busy and she was more than capable of figuring this out herself once she forced herself to concentrate. She didn’t want to rely on Ethan. She didn’t want to be that girl.

With a clenched hand and her fingernails digging into her palm, she mumbled. “Just knock, you dumbass.”

“Lily?”

Lily whipped her head to the side and saw him. Ethan. He was standing there with a clipboard in hand, looking as handsome as ever in his classic blue shirt and tie under his Edenbrook coat. Lily took in breath both from the sight of him and the realisation that he’d seen her in front of his door, just standing there with her hand poised to knock.

“Ethan. I mean. Dr. Ramsey. Hi.” Lily stuttered as she jumped back and quickly retracted her and held it behind her back.

Ethan cleared his throat. “Dr. Murphy.”

There was a beat of silence between them where both weren’t sure what to say to each other. This interaction felt different somehow. Every time they’d spoken there was this level of distance and professionalism that they maintain to ensure that neither of them got too close – that there was a boundary between them. But this time Ethan had caught Lily in this private moment with herself, it almost felt like an intrusion.

Lily took a breath. “Um, how long have you been standing there?”

Ethan shook his head. “Not long.”

He was lying. Lily could always tell.

“I need to talk to you about a patient.” She asked tentatively.

Ethan nodded and strode to his door to unlock it, he opened it and stood to the side to let Lily in first. Lily mumbled a ‘thanks’ as she walked into the office. Ethan followed as he went behind the desk, put his clipboard down and began to file the papers in the meticulously organised filing cabinet.

Lily stood at the edge of the scene in front of her. She watched him move effortlessly, the awkwardness in the air around them.

“Well? What is it?” Ethan asked. “I’ve got a meeting with Banerji in 10 minutes.”

Lily blinked at his bristled tone. “I need some help with figuring out the best course of action with a patient who’s got some contradicting issues.”

“Can’t you do that yourself? You’re more than capable, Li— Dr. Murphy.” Ethan huffed.

Lily frowned. “Excuse me for disturbing you. I just wanted to treat the patient correctly.”

Ethan sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“So, what did you mean?” Lily crossed her arms.

“I meant, you’re a good doctor, Lily.” Ethan replied.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t need help every now and then.” Lily retorted.

Ethan ran his hand through his tousled hair. “I haven’t got time for this right now.”

“Then make time!” Lily exclaimed with a spark of anger.

Lily and Ethan looked at each other, both surprised by her outburst. Ethan was often hard to read, but this time, his eyes betrayed him completely. “Why do you keep pushing me away?” Lily whispered.

Ethan closed his eyes and hung his head. “Don’t do this, Lily.”

“Just answer the question, Ethan.” Lily said sternly.

“You know exactly why.” Ethan replied sharply.

“No, I don’t think I do. Maybe you can explain it to me in a way that I understand.” Lily patronised.

“Stop acting like a child, we’re adults, Lily.” Ethan rolled his eyes.

“Says the man who can’t deal with and express his emotions.” Lily knew the words were harsh and unfair, but she was angry. Months of frustration and hurt that have been bottled up were finally coming out. “You’ve barely looked at me properly in months. It’s like everything that happened didn’t even matter to you.”

“You know damn well that’s not true.” Ethan flared.

“Do I?” Lily challenged. “So, answer my question, Ethan.”

“You think it’s just so easy, don’t you?” Ethan replied, acid on his tongue with every word as he stepped towards her. “Have you even considered the ethnical and workplace consequences of us? There are patients to consider, the team, HR, we can’t just say ‘fuck it’ and do what we want, Lily. There are bigger issues here than me and you.”

“I’m not some petulant child that doesn’t understand consequences, Ethan. But I know when to take a risk for something that’s important to me.” Lily replied.

They were almost chest to chest now, and Lily has to crane her neck to look at Ethan.

“I’m not a risk-taker. You know that.”

“So, I guess that translates into; ‘You’re not worth the risk.’ Got it.” Lily smiled with contempt. “Guess I have my answer.”

Lily stepped back and began to turn away from Ethan, but he reached for her arm and pulled her back. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

Lily raised her voice, exasperated and said; “Then what are you saying, Ethan!? Stop speaking in riddles and just fucking tell me! I’m so fucking tired of tiptoeing around you and us. I know you saw me standing outside your door for longer than you said, I can’t even talk to you anymore without getting this awful dread in the pit of my stomach that I hate because I shouldn’t feel like that around the person that I—”

“I’m scared, okay?!” Ethan exclaimed. Silence enveloped them, the only sound was Lily and Ethan’s breaths, heavy from the argument. Ethan cupped Lily’s cheeks as he said; “I want you more than anything, Lily. But I’m scared of what could happen if we…” He shook his head.

Lily blinked at him. Before she let out a breath of disbelief mixed with relief and dare-she-say, love? And put her hands over his, rubbing her thumbs over the back of his hand. Finally. “If we what, Ethan?”

Ethan took in a breath. “If we pursue this, what would happen when everyone finds out? I don’t want them thinking negative things, especially about you.”

Lily shook her head. “I don’t care about anyone else. And you shouldn’t either. You’re Ethan fucking Ramsey for god’s cake.” Lily smiled. “I care about you. Anyone that knows me knows the truth.”

“And what if…if this doesn’t work?” Ethan asked. “What would we do then? How would it affect our work?”

“But what if it does work?” Lily whispered.

Ethan shook his head, pulling away from Lily and turning his back, running a hand through his hair again. “I don’t know, Lily. I don’t know I can do this.”

Ethan stood with his hands on his hips and his head to the ceiling, his eyes closed. Lily walked behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, her forehead resting on his back. She couldn’t deny that she felt him relax under her touch. And Ethan couldn’t either.

Lily moved to hold his right arm with both hands, before moving one to hold his hand. His fingers instinctively interlaced with hers. “What if we…what if we come up with a plan?” Lily looked up at him.

“What kind of plan?” Ethan asked, looking down at her by his side.

“A plan to try this. Try us. See where it goes. But we’ll keep it a secret, so, we can see if we like us. Then we’ll talk to Banerji about this if we really do. He’ll understand. You’re like a son to him. And then if it’s okay, we’ll tell some people – my friends, but still keep it quiet so it doesn’t impact the workplace.” Lily suggested, her thumb rubbing his hand again like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“And if it’s not okay? What if Banerji says no?” Ethan asked.

“Then we figure something out. I move from Edenbrook, maybe.” Lily replied with a small shrug.

“I can’t make you do that.” Ethan shook his head in disapproval.

Lily leaned her head on his arm. “But I would, for you. For us.”

“Us...” Ethan whispered.

“What do you think?” Lily asked with a small voice. “Can we do that? Do you want to?”

“It’s going to be hard.” Ethan said.

“I know.”

“But I want to. God knows I want to more than anything.” Ethan sighed like a weight was lifted off his shoulders and turned so he could take both of Lily’s hands. “I can’t bear another day without you.”

Lily didn’t know who moved in first. But their lips finally connected, and both of them collapsed into the kiss. Lily wrapped her arms around his neck as Ethan’s arms went around her middle, holding her there before lifting her to his height. Lily wrapped her legs around him and smiled into the kiss, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. The world stopped around them. They both starved for this kiss and it was finally happening, and it was as if all the pieces of the world’s hardest puzzle fell into place.

When they finally broke away, they rested their foreheads together. Smiling and looking into each other’s eyes. Ethan was still holding her effortlessly as Lily hugged him tightly, burying her head into the crook of his neck as his stubble tickled her skin. Ethan held her just as tightly as he did the same, his eyes shutting as he breathed in the smell of her skin and the familiar smell of her cocoa butter shampoo.

Lily pressed a light kiss to Ethan’s neck. “I missed you.”

Ethan smiled into her skin. “I missed you more.”

I hope you all enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought!

If you have any requests, please send them in! It might take me some time to get to (I have a list of fics I want to write) but I would love to see them!

Remember to Reblog and Like!

[carmenlire]

Like Nobody Else

This is based on this tweet by @cardanscrown!

read on ao3

Simon’s days follow a routine. He wakes up at 6:30 sharp and rushes to his local gym where he has a daily Zumba class that’s at least seventy two percent elderly women (Simon long ago accepted that he was no match for Doris or Evelyn who can dance circles around him to Despacito).

He then rushes back to his studio apartment where he gets ready and spends exactly two minutes choosing his outfit before hopping in the shower and using his favorite Bath and Body Works body wash that smells like vanilla cupcakes.

He leaves his apartment by 8:20 and takes the train to Lightwood Co., the nation’s biggest tech company that holds an eighty four percent market share. He’s the assistant to the Founder and CEO, Alec Lightwood, who started the company when he was still in his freshman year at MIT.

Staring mournfully out the dirty window of the subway, Simon tries to ignore his obnoxiously growling stomach. He’s always running just a little too late to grab something on his way out the door and he knows by this point that he can stop by the cafe on the second floor of Lightwood Co. and grab something on his way up to his desk up on the thirty seventh floor.

It’s just that he still has seventeen minutes until he gets there and he always works up quite the appetite during Zumba. It didn’t help matters that Phyllis and Dorothy had been talking about their favorite pie recipes while everyone was waiting for class to start.

Simon’s stop comes up and he makes his way through the throng of commuters milling about. He walks down Fifth Avenue, enjoying the early spring sunshine that warms him through his tweed jacket. He’s lived in New York all his life but sometimes he’s still struck by the constant buzz of activity, the low thrum of energy that always seems to be pulsing around the city.

It’s just a few minutes later that Simon’s scanning his employee badge and placing his thumb on the digital print reader, walking through security and into the hubbub that was Lightwood’s pride and joy.

He stops by the cafe and grabs a waffle taco and a white chocolate hazelnut mocha with five shots of espresso and extra whipped cream. He eats half of his taco in the elevator-- ignoring Jace’s disgusted look-- and he’s the last one off the elevator as it opens unto the top floor-- the penthouse office suite.

Simon landed this job as a temp still in college, working on his botany degree and needing extra cash. His best friend Clary had mentioned the job she’d scored as the assistant to Magnus Bane, world renowned historian and scholar who’d taken publish or perish as a personal challenge.

Shrugging internally and figuring that he could file papers as well as the best of them, Simon had signed up at Alicante Agency, a temp agency that placed people everywhere in the city.

Including one of the biggest companies in the world, apparently.

Simon’s number had been called and when he’d been told that he would be the personal secretary-- administrative assistant, he’d thought with a huff-- of one Alec Lightwood, he’d been ecstatic. Lightwood was a tech genius who had worked on everything from the latest Downworlders video game to Idris, the world’s most comprehensive academic database.

When he’d asked how long the job was for, he’d tried to ignore just how scathing the agency manager, Ms. Herondale, had been.

Lightwood’s been through a dozen of our temps in the last six weeks. Our company record is six days. Good luck, kid, though I’ve heard that doesn’t exist where you’re going.

Resolutely not gulping, Simon had taken the folder that Imogen had handed him and walked out of her office without a backwards glance.

He’d been on the street before he’d paused, leaning against the wrought iron fence of the business and leafing through the sparse contents of the folder.

There were only a few sheets of paper. One was simply the name of the company he was to report to with an address, phone number, and pass code. The next sheet was the position description. It listed half a dozen key responsibilities and as Simon read through the list, he was relieved yet increasingly confused. They were all basic administrative duties including filing, keeping Mr. Lightwood’s agenda, and taking meeting or conference call minutes.

The third and last sheet looked to be a draft of a confidentiality agreement, which Simon skimmed through. Really, it all looked standard for where he was going.

As Simon boots up his computer, he flips over his watch and sees that it’s exactly 8:58. He has five minutes before the boss man himself arrives and he uses that time to look over Mr. Lightwood’s schedule for the day and make sure that the forms he printed for Alec’s signature last night are still waiting in his designated tray.

Finishing off his taco with a last bite that’s just a bit too big, Simon laboriously chews as he opens his email and glances through the few dozen subject lines, making sure that nothing is catastrophically urgent.

He hears the muted ding of the elevator a split second before Mr. Lightwood steps into the penthouse lobby, wearing a navy suit with a crisp white button down open at the throat. His loafers are gleaming and Simon breathes a sigh of relief as he sees the relaxed slope of his shoulders.

Simon’s been Alec’s assistant for the past three years. He’s currently working on his dissertation-- how different genres of music affect plant growth-- and he enjoys his job, even if it’s a little challenging on occasion.

Or all the time.

Alec was a hard ass, no doubt about it. He had exacting standards, a perpetually sardonic expression, and Simon had literally never seen the man smile. Lightwood had exploded onto the scene ten years ago and in that time, he’s made a name for himself that no one else could rival. Interns fought for covetous positions and even if they routinely stress cried for the entirety of their four month contracts, everyone agreed that their time at Lightwood Co. was a huge boon for their emerging careers.

Mr. Lightwood wasn’t necessarily liked but he was respected. Every single employee at the company-- either here in New York or at any of his branches domestically or internationally-- knew that they were a valuable part of the company.

Alec might be an unforgiving man but he was an understanding one. Simon had been told on more than one occasion to block off an entire afternoon so that Alec could go down to one of the R&D floors and help an employee who was struggling with their project. Alec regularly works weekends or covers shifts in the customer service department if something comes up and his company has been rated number one on Forbes’ Best Companies to Work For list, eight years running.

Simon stands next to his desk as Alec strolls over to him, briefcase slung over his shoulder. Simon hands Alec his worryingly sweet coffee with one hand and the small stack of papers needing his approval with the other.

“Morning,” Alec says absently as his eyes scan over the top page.

“Morning, boss man,” Simon replies cheerfully. Alec doesn’t even blink at the greeting now, though he’d given Simon a slow blink after the exuberant words for a solid year after Simon had joined on.

“What’s on the slate for today?”

“You have a conference call in fifteen minutes with your manager in Dublin and this afternoon you have your back to back monthly meetings with the department heads.” Simon frowns, glancing briefly at the agenda on the screen of his computer before looking back at Alec, confused. “There’s nothing on your agenda from 11-2, though. You’re completely free.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” Alec says easily, turning towards his office.

Simon bites his tongue to keep from asking any impudent questions-- questions are always impudent where Alec’s concerned. That doesn’t necessarily keep Simon from asking whatever comes to mind, though this time Simon wants to try to solve the mystery himself.

It’s a slow day and Simon is caught up on his classwork with nothing better to do.

As he spins his chair in slow revolutions, Simon thinks of how peculiar it is that Alec’s blocked off three hours during the work day. Alec’s always been a dervish during working hours, though the past year or so, he’s been very firm about leaving the office by 6pm at the latest.

Simon doesn’t know much about Alec. He knows that his sister, Isabelle, is a tenured professor and the president of NYU’s School of Engineering. He knows that Alec’s gay-- the man is not subtle when he checks out men-- and he knows that Alec isn’t all big and bad.

His first day, Simon had walked into Lightwood Co. nervous as hell. He’d discovered that Alec was gruff and demanding and a natural leader, handling the dozens of facets involved in running a company this size without a hitch in his step.

The first few days, he’d walked on eggshells. Simon had been looking for signs as to why all of the other temps at Alicante had deserted their post before they’d made it a week. Was Lightwood just an asshole? Was he one of those privileged, pervy bosses who thought they could get away with whatever they damned well pleased? Did he sing obnoxiously loud while he worked?

Simon couldn’t figure it out. Alec gave him a pile of work every day to slough through and while Simon felt the pressure, a lot of that was leveled out by the fact that Alec was observant-- he knew when to slow down and explain things and slowly but surely, Simon got the hang of being Alec’s administrative assistant.

Alec worked with his schedule and the pay was better than anything else he could get in New York. Well, legally anyway.

Simon spends the rest of the morning fielding phone calls, instant messaging Maia in software development between calls.

Maia’s worked for the company just a bit longer than Simon, earning a full time position after she completed her internship with flying colors. They’re pretty good friends-- they get lunch at least three times a week and Maia is the best movie partner Simon could ask for-- and he knows that if anyone has the dirt, it would be her.

S: Do you know if Lightwood has a mistress?

M: How the hell would I know? I’m on the eighteenth floor. The last time I saw Alec was at the company Christmas party.

S: He blocked off three hours for lunch and the only people who do that are CEOs who run to a seedy by the hour motel to get their rocks off with their side piece

But that would mean that he has a main piece

Wbk that Alec’s unattached

M: Why would you say that?

He’s a very attractive man. He’s rich and smart and young. He’s actually pretty perfect.

Simon scoffs at the screen.

S: Yeah, if you can ignore the fact that the man never smiles. I’ve been his right hand man for three years and I’ve yet to see one Mr. Alec Lightwood crack a smile unless it’s for business.

The man’s terrifying

M: I bet he smiles during his lunch break

S: Doubt it tbh

The meeting is probably black ops or something. Omg!! What if the government wants Lightwood’s tech but it’s all super secret so that’s why he didn’t tell me?

M: You’re crossing the line again, babe

S: As if I even know where the line is anymore.

Simon startles as the elevator dings, looking absently at Alec’s agenda that sits in its stand. It’s just before eleven and Simon frowns. His least favorite job is turning people away who think they’re entitled to Lightwood’s time. Alec trusts Simon to keep everything running smoothly and Simon prides himself on being the best damn secretary Alec’s ever had.

Alec works around his classes, puts up with his jokes, and has actually shown some hint of personality in the past three years. Simon refuses to jeopardize any of that by interrupting his boss’s very busy schedule.

Hot damn.

Simon didn’t count on the uninvited guest, however.

The man is dressed to the nines, looking elegant yet approachable. His makeup is all sharp lines and flawless smudging and the toddler on his hip is chattering happily as it plays with one of a dozen necklaces hanging low enough to grab.

“Hello,” Simon says, echoing the man’s smile. His teeth are perfect, he thinks dazedly.

“Morning,” the man says dryly. He doesn’t say anything else, just moves to walk right past Simon’s desk, obviously on his way to Mr. Lightwood’s office.

“Wait!”

Simon subtly rolls his chair back, nearer to his desk so that he can easily reach the silent alarm button underneath. With a sigh, Simon wonders just how deranged the man is-- and to involve a baby of all things.

The stranger raises a brow expectantly, swaying side to side gently to soothe the child.

“You can’t go back there,” Simon says flatly.

“I’m sorry?”

Pointing to the closed double doors, Simon repeats, “You can’t just go back there. I’m Mr. Lightwood’s secretary and you’re not on the list. Mr. Lightwood is preoccupied for the foreseeable future, so I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you and your baby to leave, sir.”

Simon expects a reaction-- obnoxious annoyance, cool rage, a ballistic temper. What he doesn’t not expect is the amused, relaxed expression.

“Sherman--”

“Simon,” Simon corrects, unthinking. He doesn't realize that the man shouldn't know his name.

“Simon,” the man starts, nodding at the correction. “While I appreciate your dedication--”

“Magnus?”

Both Simon and the man look towards the office, whose doors have now opened to reveal a rumpled Alec. He’d taken his jacket off after the conference call and he’d rolled his sleeves up a few times, exposing strong forearms. His hair was messy from running a frustrated hand through it several times over the course of the morning and he was leaning against the door jamb, looking unconcerned as hell.

Simon straightens. “Mr. Lightwood, I was just telling Perfect Hair that he and his baby had to leave--”

Simon breaks off, stunned, as Alec chuckles before straightening and walking the few steps over to the man. Simon sits in his chair and feels like he just had a covert lobotomy as he watches his boss reach for the baby-- and the baby all but fall into his arms, squirming out of the other man’s arms.

“Simon, this is my husband, Magnus. Magnus, this is my assistant that I’ve mentioned a few thousand times.”

“Wait, you talk about me at home,” Simon absently asks before his brain comes back online. He looks up at Alec to see him smiling down at the baby in his arms, gently chiding it as it tries to tug off one of his shirt buttons.

“You’re married,” Simon asks incredulously.

At that, Alec looks up and shares a look with Magnus. “Of course I’m married Simon. Magnus and I have been together over six years.”

“And married for three,” Magnus adds, leaning into Alec’s side reflexively.

Looking between the two of them, Simon feels like his head is three seconds from exploding. “How did I not know this? I’m your right hand man!”

Alec just throws him a quizzical glance. “We’ve had Max here for just over a year. I worked from home six months last year,” Alec says sardonically. “You dropped papers off at our place almost every week.”

“I never saw a baby or a husband,” Simon shrieks.

Max-- who Simon has to admit is adorable-- claps at the rise in volume and falls against Alec. Absently bringing a hand up so that Max can high five it a dozen times, Alec just sends Simon an amused glance. “Max must have been sleeping or with Magnus every time, then.”

Alec reaches down to grab Magnus’s hand, tugging him towards his open office while holding Max with the other.

“Absolutely no interruptions until two,” Alec throws back over his shoulder, laughing as his son pats his face clumsily.

Magnus looks over his own shoulder to wink at Simon. “Whatever the boss says,” he adds with a grin.

Simon sits at his desk for fifteen minutes trying to wrap his head around what he’s just discovered before opening the companies IM.

S: I owe you dinner and maybe a bottle of your favorite tequila

M: What did you do now?

S: Mr. Lightwood is married with a baby! How did no one know??

He smiled. Alec! Smiled!! And he even laughed!! I feel like I don’t even know my boss anymore

He’s super cute with kids though

M: My brother isn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type but Magnus and Max tend to bring out the marshmallow in him

This is Izzy, Simon. Please stop gossiping about my brother and get back to work

Though, I can see why Alec showing any emotion besides stern disapproval would be fodder for the gossip mill.

Simon’s eyes widen as he reads the messages. What the hell?

M: Sorry, Simon. Isabelle stopped by my office to pick me up for lunch when your messages came through.

Iz offered to take us out for dinner tonight and tell us all about her brother’s “epic love story” if we go to the Chinese restaurant off Broadway.

I already accepted so I hope you don’t have plans!!

Rolling his eyes, Simon kisses his quiet evening of guitar hero and Oreo milkshakes out the window. He can’t deny that he’s looking forward to hearing about his boss’s private life, though-- his first real glimpse in over three years.

When he visits Clary after dinner, full on spring rolls and lo mein, he collapses onto her bed, rambling about weird ass bosses, his renewed interest in polyamory, and how goddamn strange the world is.

He’s face down in the bed, wishing that he had some Oreos, when Clary’s voice breaks through.

“Wait, you’re telling me that your boss is married to a Magnus? Alexander?”

Simon shoots up to sitting, staring at Clary incredulously. “Yeah?”

Clary leans forward, smacking Simon on the shoulder. “I work for Magnus Bane, you idiot! How many Magnuses do you know? And, he has a husband though I’ve only ever heard him referred to as Alexander. What are the chances?”

Simon rubs his shoulder. “Does he have dark hair that defies gravity? Perfect teeth? And he can blend eye shadow better than Izzy?”

“Yes, that’s him,” Clary cries, eyes widening. “We were working for husbands and didn’t know. What the hell.”

“Small world,” Simon mumbles, falling backwards onto Clary’s mountain of pillows.

The two of them lay there for long minutes, reconciling the new bits of information they’ve just learned.

“Wild,” Clary murmurs and Simon has to agree.

The next morning, the elevator opens to a smiling Alec, who’s looking down at his phone as he steps into the office.

“Morning,” he says absently.

Simon returns the greeting and holds out the coffee for Alec to take. Alec reaches out and snags the coffee on autopilot, humming as the sweetness hits him.

Alec looks up and sees Simon’s still form and the glee dancing just behind his eyes.

“Yes?”

“I’m just happy you’re happy boss.”

Rolling his eyes, Alec pockets his phone, sheepishly admitting, “Magnus just sent me a picture of Blueberry eating cherries. He’s made quite the mess,” he chuckles.

Simon’s eyes light up and Alec finds himself slowly but surely confiding more in Simon, sharing little anecdotes. Alec doesn’t know how his intern never managed to realize that his boss was married-- his legal name on all contracts has been Lightwood-Bane since his wedding not to mention the ring-- but Alec can’t find it in himself to care.

Simon’s a dedicated worker and adds some much needed levity and capability to his days. Alec had been through dozens of secretaries before Simon had been sent to him and since day one Alec has been pleased, if regularly nonplussed, by his administrative assistant. Alec treasures Simon as his administrative assistant and is already mourning his inevitable departure when he finishes his doctorate in botany-- though he’s been thinking of ways to get Simon to stay for months now.

It’s a small price to pay to dish about Magnus and his family a few minutes each day, Simon’s eyes glowing with just how interested he is in the topic.

Alec and Simon grow from their strictly professional relationship into great friends.

Alec gets a kick out of seeing Simon’s face every time they’re together outside of the company. Simon’s like a kid on Christmas who’s just seen Santa as he watches Alec laugh and joke and throw around truly hideous puns to a fondly amused Magnus or Izzy.

It’s even funnier when no one believes Simon’s tales that the illustrious Alec Lightwood, CEO of the biggest company in the United States, has a sense of humor. No one believes that the man who regularly looks stoic enough to be marble is capable of understanding a joke, let alone snorting in hilarity.

It’s Simon’s definition of purgatory but he can’t complain too much when he’s brought into the Lightwood family as one of Izzy’s partners and one of Alec’s best friends.

When Magnus and Alec adopt Rafael a couple of years later, Simon tearfully accepts the offer of being a godparent.

A few weeks later, Simon tries not to pout too badly when Magnus snatches his phone out of his hand when he tries to record Alec drunkenly singing New Rules at the New Year’s Eve Party Magnus and Alec host every year at their loft.

All around, Simon learns, Alec's not only a great boss but a great friend and he takes great delight in being one of the few people Alec lets down his guard with.

Working for Mr. Lightwood was great. Being Alec's friend was even better.

[shamelessinnerbeast]

// I don’t post stuff I write usually here but I needed to train my english and it is linked to the doodles I’m posting these days so here is a little quick fic XP As I stated, absolutely NO shipping in this AU, especially with Damon - I really want to keep this clear as what I think is beautiful is the fact their relationship was truly pure in its own way. //

One single sentence on the phone screen that lighted up and flickered.

« He is dead. »

No need to ask for a name. It wasn't like Chloe really had anyone else, especially a man, besides him in her life. It had been two years already. Two years since they had met. Damon and Chloe. And it was all because of him partially ; Frank felt responsible. Guilty would be a more accurate word actually.

Two years following his orders, working for him. While she was just a 16-year-old kid back then. A hard teacher, a father, since David was not good enough, was even hated by her. Damon or the glorification of evil, of the anger and the aggressiveness that consumed Chloe since William's death.  

He had presented her a choice and she had made it. At least, Frank was not to blame this time. How many times had he tried to dissuade her ? Always in vain. She had stuck with Damon. Looking more and more like him, getting dangerously closer and closer to him regarding her mentality and her morals.

Over time, Damon had become the father she had been expecting since William's accident ; now that he was dead too, probably brutally killed in addition considering the kind of life he led, Chloe was certainly utterly destroyed right now. He texted her back urgently.

« Are you safe ? Where are you ? I'll be over there as fast as I can. »

He was now afraid she'd do something very, extremely stupid. He waited. One minute that seemed endless to him.

No reply.

Nothing.

Frank started the RV. Last he heard, they were living in some mobile home ; a completely obsolete place but at least they could each have their own room.

Chloe had thrown the phone away, instantly regretting that she had sent a message to Frank. They used to be some kind of pals... perhaps ? But Frank had never approved her decision to accept Damon's « training », her will to be his legacy maybe even ? To get rid of her fears, to become independent and strong like him. And lonely too.

Lonely. Truly lonely. Now she was.

She had taken his hand and placed it on the top of her head.

Wake up ! Wake up !

Futile.

You know Death, Chloe. It takes and never gives back. You know it. You know how it works.

Red swollen blue eyes that had shed so many tears they were now completely dry and started to sting went slowly up to stare at the bloody torso, pierced with several bullets. They kept traveling up until they found the inanimate face. Blood leaking down the scarred lower lip down onto the beard.

A violent pain constricted her heart and her lungs felt like they had been put on fire again immediately. Hardly swallowing the terrible lump obstructing her throat, she succeeded to stand up. Despite her legs, those stupidly skinny legs, that felt like jelly right now. Without the blood smeared on his face and his jacket, he could have nearly seemed simply sleeping. Chloe's eyes closed as she tried to breathe, her entrails twisting painfully.

Barely breathing, barely living. She felt like the whole world had crashed upon her and she was buried beneath, not even struggling right now to break free. Too numb. Too stunned. But the faint hope this was all just a nightmare was slowly fading away.

Once again, losing a father. At least, she could bid farewell to this one. There wouldn't be anyone else besides her to mourn him anyway. The hurt would turn to anger and to hate. Chloe wasn't of those who retreated into a room, turned off the lights and remained there, trying to cope with whatever they were going through. She had to take action.

Gathering her strength, she tried to get that 180 lbs man out of the seat he had been shot sitting on and began to drag him towards the door she kicked open.

- Always been a heavy guy right Damon ? She tried to grin but failed at it miserably, and her face contorted in pain and sorrow again, while her gloomy sorrowful gaze drifted away, away from the corpse she succeeded to take outside, thanks to her determined repeated efforts.

It was raining. A pouring rain that soaked her to the bone in no time. Like the night she was born. So his face wouldn't get too soiled, she slid hers arms under his armpits and, from there, she managed to drag him to the border of the woods. Slipping in the mud, the grass drowning in the water. She found herself surprisingly still crying ; she just hadn't even noticed it yet with all this damned rain falling upon her.

At some point, while she hadn't reached the desired spot yet, her strength seemed to give up on her and she stumbled, falling to her knees. Mud and blood splattered on her face and clothes, Chloe found herself staring at the dead body, completely still, as cold as it.

- You had to die too... You !.. You... I thought... you were stronger than anyone... I thought nobody could ever kill you... But you too had to... die...

He was not leaving her and she could understand it today, while she couldn't with William. Too young, too angry, a loss too sudden and unexpected. But Damon... As Frank would certainly say it, Damon had it coming.

Brutally shaken by violent erratic sobs, she crumbled near the cadaver. The contact with the icy cold mud and water mixed together somehow calmed her a little, even soothing the pain she still felt wherever she had received blows last night. Damon and her had gotten into some pretty serious trouble with an aspiring drug dealer ; competition was not acceptable.

Her cries decreased until she fell completely silent, still not moving a muscle though. Just lying there on the ground, under the rain, watching the inexpressive bloody face of her boss.

From far away, dizzy as she was, numb to the cold and to the pain, she heard an engine noise. Frank ? She remembered texting him. He knew better than to come near while she was in such a pitiful state for sure. She knew he knew her well enough to keep his distance and wait for her in the mobile home.

It was time. Chloe closed her eyes. Squeezed them shut. Tight. Like her jaws were clenched and she took Damon's hand in her, squeezing it even tighter.

Goodbye.

Opening her eyes, to contemplate the dearest face. This mad dog look. Put to sleep now.

- I'll miss you.

Every single fucking day. I already do.

- They'll pay for what they've done. This is my promise.

It took her so long to bury him properly. Deep enough. So the animals wouldn't dig him up to tear him apart. Even if the earth was soft that night. After several hours, she finally returned inside. It wasn't raining anymore.

When Frank saw her, the sight shocked him. He hadn't seen her for like two months and she looked awful. Bruises all over her arms and her face. Wounded lip. All bloody. And muddy. 

But it wasn't about it, it was about the way she looked at him. With empty eyes, expressionless, like all her energy, her enthusiasm had been drained out of her. She looked jaded. Terribly awfully jaded and tired, way too tired for a 18-year-old young woman.

He respected her wish not to utter a single word, not immediately at least. She didn't even look at him ; she went to the counter and filled a glass with whisky, drank it in one go and, out of the blue, buried her face in some large rag. To muffle a scream of rage followed by a succession of quick violent gasps as she tried to catch her breath.

When she finally emerged from it, she breathed deeply, inhaling, exhaling. She was really trying to get over it, to collect herself, but it was still too fresh and it just all kept coming back to her. The pain of discovering him. The pain of knowing all of this was real. She needed to lash out.

In a flash, she grabbed her baseball-bat she had always kept and started smashing everything indistinctively, destroying the fridge, the microwave, the shelves, the TV. Everything. Until Frank was quick enough to grab her arm and stop her. The baseball bat rolled onto the floor ; she let go of it, as he contained her. This bony ball of furor.

- You need this place... You don't want to go back to your mom right ?

After a long minute of silence, she spat bitterly a harsh « no ». Another glass filled and emptied right away. At least, the worst was behind them now.

- Huh... Sorry for your... partner.

- I know what you mean by that and it disgusts me. Why does it have to always come to this ? She retorted curtly, her voice acidic as if she was spitting venom.

Now this was embarrassing ; he should have asked before but he had never dared.

- You two lived together and I know you and I knew him...

- Sounds like in fact you didn't know any of us that well.

She let out an exasperated sigh.

- Still, thanks... I fucking guess.

Frank hardly swallowed. He was walking on eggshells around her today, more than ever. Before she changed, he didn’t give a shit about the words he used, about the fact she could get mad at him... but the Chloe facing him right now could have blown his brains all over the counter in a fit of anger, then regretted it probably, but he still would have been dead anyway. Plus, she was completely on edge right now.

- Heard your friend's back in town.

- Oh do you mean the friend who just completely ignored me, my calls, my messages for years ? Fuck her, she growled lowly, the suffering still there though. Anyway, got better things to do. The bastards who did this to Damon have to pay and only me can make it happen.

Oh shit...

That was definitely not what Frank had been hoping to hear from her. Damon's death, it seemed, hadn’t knocked some sense into her. It just did the opposite.

- You don't have any idea what you’re talking about ! Damon had many, many enemies. Fucking tough guys. People who have influence, who have money.

- I won't let them kill me ! She protested vehemently, shooting daggers at him with those bright icy blue eyes of hers. Everything Damon taught me was for this moment. It all makes sense at last.

- Chloe... Damon is dead. Take it as an opportunity to start a new life. A sane one.

- You don't understand... You don't... not at all... she muttered, shaking her head hanging low, her tone suddenly flat, monotone ; but, all of a sudden, she lifted her head again and yelled, or rather roared : First, I lost William ! And now... Now, they took Damon from me ! I don't care who they are, how rich they are ! How many men I'll have to slay to get to them ! I will find them and I will kill them. All of them !

Her pale blue eyes welling up again, she screamed, breathless, her voice fragile, breaking, throaty :

- I know what you think... You think he's not worth it. You think he's not worth it because he was what they call a bad man ! I can't argue ! He was no saint ! But he never let me down and I loved him ! He was like a father to me !... And I don't care what he did. In my eyes, he was always right. 

Even when what he could do was cruel and so wrong.

- Whatever you're going to do is not gonna bring him back but it can send you six feet under the fucking ground with him very fast ! That's what I fuckin' think Chloe ! You're 18 !

- And I am ready to die for a cause I believe in.

- Chloe seriously just think about...

- Get out.

- This is a one-way ticket... You realize that ?

Once you start running wild seeking revenge, it is easy to get lost. And it won't bring you any peace.

As Frank didn't budge right away, she pulled out a knife stuck in a wood-table and yelled at the top of her lungs :

- I said... GET OUT !!!

I have so much to do now.

[thealphabetmurders]

Scrambled Thoughts

Pairings: Romantic Logince, Sibling Analogical

Word Count: 2013 (for Chapter 3), 8163 in total

(Previous) (First)

Summary: Roman was not a rebel by any means. Roman was not a fan of breaking rules. Sure, he bent some from time to time, but never done anything blatantly wrong, that was not in service to his passions. Yet, despite the protests his best friend and his consciousness, he picks up two dozen eggs and goes to vandalize. Now, Roman has to avoid suspension, make amends with Virgil, alleviate the concern of Patton, and not fall in love with his enemy Logan.

Triggers: Bullying, Violence, Vandalism, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Mentions of Racism, Classism

Authors Note:This fic originally was going to be just 3 chapters long, but the people on my discord server implored me to write some more angst. Please enjoy.  (Again, I was inspired by a dream @misplaced-my-notes had, thank you).

Taglist (for everyone who seemed interested): @misplaced-my-notes, @jaszczurkaaa, @an-atypical, @jughead-is-canonically-aroace (let me know if you wanted to be added/taken off)

(Read on AO3) 

One Week Later

Tensions had been running high between Logan and Roman over the week. Logan would smirk at something he had read, faux-gasp at something on his phone, or just give Roman a smug grin, and Roman would return the favor in a civilized fashion of obscene hand gestures.

It felt as though this was going to go on indefinitely. That was, until, a randomly assigned pairs project was put before them. And as fate would have it, there was no question as to who Roman was paired up with.

“So,” Mrs. Volts continued, “As this is a public forum debate, you and your partner will work together to debate another pair. Your resolution topics have been posted on the board. After reading, you and your partner should get together and get started,”

Roman nearly cried as him and Logan looked at one another, both filled with the same amount of despair. They looked at their topic stand together, but looking very much separated, “Americans are entitled to free and public healthcare,”

The two made their way back to a desk in the corner and pulled out their computers wordlessly and shared a document with one another.

“So, I will take the affirmative since I am sure you would love to argue the negative for this one-”

Logan cut him off, “No, I believe we should work together on each one, that way we know an equal amount about the affirmative and negative,” Roman just nodded, “Listen, Roman I would like to apologize,”

Roman frowned, “For what?”

Logan fiddled with the sleeves of his leather jacket and continued talking, not meeting Roman’s eyes, “About my offhand comment on the quality of state schooling. It has been bothering me for days now and I wanted to apologize. I am speaking from a place of privilege, privilege I know I have. I intended to hurt you with that, but I wanted to apologize now, because I immediately regretted as I said it. I made a mistake, and I was wrong,”

Roman was shocked at Logan’s admission. He believe it would go in a completely different direction leading up to a punchline about Roman’s intelligence, “That was very big of you, Logan, thank you. Consider your apology, accepted,” Roman said with a wave of his hand.

“Great,” Logan deadpanned, unzipping and shrugging of his jacket. Today he wore a eggshell vertical striped shirt with a short black tie. Roman looked down at his own attire, a bright purple and red show shirt advertising Noises Off as well as his red bomber. He laughed silently to himself, wondering how they could be dressed more different.

“Are you also going to apologize for bruising my foot by smashing it with your pumps?” Roman asked.

“No, absolutely not,” Logan looked up from his typing, “I will only apologize for things I feel remorse towards and I do not regret that. I can, would, and will do it again when the opportunity presents itself.”

“Whatever you say, Specs,”

Logan shook his head, “We are not at nickname level yet,”

Roman smirked, “What are you gonna do about it- and I see you raising your foot, it that really your only move?”

Another Week Later

Roman didn’t know how it happened. Slowly, Logan and Roman’s, as the former would call it, ‘childish competitive rivalry’ slowly morphed into a ‘childish competitive friendship’. It must have all started when Roman invited Logan over to work on their debate, fully knowing they were ahead with work, and Logan accepted.

Maybe Roman did scream the entire time he rode on the back of Logan’s bike, gripping onto his waist, crying for deal life. It was possible that they spent 10 minutes working on their presentation but then forwent their original motive to play Mario Party. It’s extremely likely that Logan painted Roman’s nails black and Roman taught Logan how to make a meal out of 5 things in the pantry.

“What was that about, Ro?” Patton asked as Logan passed Roman in the hall, bumping him in the shoulder, winking, then smiling.

“Oh, that? We’re friends now, can you believe that?” Roman said, smiling. They sat down for lunch and Patton was smiling meekly.

“So, you both are friends now?” Patton asked. Roman nodded, taking out his salad, “Just… friends?”

Roman’s heart stopped and he swallowed, “Yea, Pat, just friends. W-why?”

Patton giggled, “I don’t know, that did not seem like just friendly behavior to me. I am pretty sure Logan was more expressive in those 5 seconds than I have seen him in the 3 years I have known him,”

Roman stabbed his salad, the fork slightly cracking the bottom of the cheap plastic, “Logan and I are just friends, nothing more. Either way, he is straight,”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Well, no, but he is a nerd and exudes that straight energy. No gay guys ride motorcycles,”

Patton considers this for a moment, “I guess. Bi?”

Roman’s eyes widen, “Huh. I didn’t even think of that. Motorcycles are big bisexual energy,”

“Do you like Logan?” Patton asked outright.

“No. Not really. He is still a self-righteous know it all,”

“So, you will not be upset if I am brutally honest with you, Ro,” Patton started out, hesitantly.

“I suppose… What is going on?”

Patton pushed his lunch aside and folded his hands onto the table, “Don’t you think it is a bit weird that a week ago you and Logan were at each other’s throats, and now he is kind of flirting with you in the halls?”

Roman frowned, chewing on his fork, “What are you saying, Patton?”

“I think that he may be feeding off of your flirtatious nature and using you,”

Roman dropped his fork in his salad and scoffed, “Using me? For what?”

Patton tongued the inside of his cheek, “You seriously do not remember, kiddo? How you vandalized his house and he is trying to get you suspended. Doesn’t he have to come up with something in about a week?”

“Yea…”

“Maybe this is a tactic. Get close to you for information and then use that against you,” Patton put his rounded glasses on top of his head and rubbed his eyes, “I never want to be a negative Nancy, Roman, but I have your best interest in mind, yea? You need a scholarship and fraternizing with the enemy is a damn good way to not get one,”

Roman scoffed, “The enemy?”

“You know what I mean,” Patton looked at his watch and sighed, “I promised Mr. Eldredge I would help him set up for Senior Facs, I just going to head there now,” He quite harshly threw everything in his lunch box and swung his school bag over his shoulder, “Just please listen to me Roman, for once, just listen to me. If you had listened to me in the first place, maybe you and Logan could have been friends without any ulterior motives,”

Patton walked off with purpose leaving Roman by himself to compartmentalize what Patton had revealed to him.

Logan is incredibly smart. That is just a universal truth. With every class, Logan excels and has developed quite the income from selling the faculty WiFi password to students, which allows them to access restricted content on their computers. Yet, there are always two sides to the same coin. Logan uses a lot of that intelligence purely for self preservation. He never gives out test answers or lets anyone copy homework. He is quite selfish with his school supplies as well, but more than anything, Logan is incredibly reserved. Most people high school aged have broken off into cliques or groups they share common interests with. Never Logan. Sure, Logan has acquaintances and people whom he can talk to in class, but never hang out with outside of the fact or even text for leisure. In fact, Roman is pretty sure he is the only contact in Logan phone outside of family.

There is no reason why Logan would randomly, out of the blue, want to become friends with Roman. In fact, it was weird how he didn’t see it for himself, first. Logan was just a parasite, using him off for his own personal gain and wishes then depositing him into a river whenever he has sucked all the blood and life out of him.

Roman gripped at his hair (the curliness of it makes it good to latch on to) and gritted his teeth, willing himself not to spill the hot tears that were taunting the edge of his eyelids. He gritted his teeth and sucked in a cold breath, the air feeling harsh against his enamel, but not as harsh as find out one of the few friends you did make was just using you off.

In a fit of passion and anger, Roman hit his salad off of the table, hitting the wall next to him. Lettuce and dressing stained the wall and the plastic fell on the floor, even more cracked than before. A couple students around him looked at the action, but quickly  turned their attention away; nothing interesting enough was happening to stare at the student who looked on the verge of tears. Roman hastily grabbed his bag and ran out of the cafeteria. Normally, he could clean up his mess, but he was too emotional to care.

He walked and walked and walked until he reached his destination in mind. Roman raised a fist and rapped three quick knocks on the door.

“Roman?”

“Mr. B, what are you doing here… I was here to see-” Mr. Remy Brown stepped to the side to reveal Dr. Emile Picani. There were glasses set out and plates scattered across the coffee table at Dr. Picani’s office.

“Roman, is everything alright,” The school psychiatrist leapt up from his couch and rushed over to the door.

The student sniffled in response, but waved his hand away, “No, no I am fine, I just- You guys are having lunch I can come back-”

“No way, Ro,” Mr. B shook his head, “You look terrible,” He opened the door and gestured for the other to come inside.

He tentatively took a few steps inside and sat in the big leather chair across from the couch, settling into it nicely. Roman crossed his legs on the chair and picked up a stuffed dog and began fiddling with it’s long fur.

“I better go, Em,” Mr. B said, awkwardly. Roman always found it to be weird when teacher said other’s first names, but he quickly dismissed that point.

“Actually, I want you here, Mr. B, if that is alright,” Roman said awkwardly, “I was going to go to you, but I knew you were at lunch and didn’t want to bother you,” Roman looked down at his shoes, “Oops,”

The two adults looked at each other with an undesirable expression, but Dr. Picani signaled to the seat next to him and Mr. B sat down.

“Okay, Roman,” Dr. Picani bit his lip and looked up at Roman with worry, “What seems to be going on?”

*****

Microsoft NERD: Roman, you were not here for 6th period and we were supposed to debate today, is everything okay?

Microsoft NERD: I know we were supposed to go to that “Bubble Tea House” that just opened up; did you go home?

Microsoft NERD: Virgil told me you are in 7th Period, I do not know if you got your phone taken by your teacher, but you really should stop texting in class (also, I do not want you to sass me, this is my TA period).

Microsoft NERD: I am waiting by my bike for you in our usual spot.

Microsoft NERD: Roman, I have been waiting for you for about 40 minutes and you haven’t showed or texted me, I am just going to head home.

Microsoft NERD: I apologise, Roman, if I did anything to upset you or if something else upset you that was outside of me. Just, be prepared to debate tomorrow, I suppose. Goodnight, Roman.

[xlviolation]

if you’re reading this | bellamy blake | part one

pairing: bellamy blake x reader not requested words: 1310 masterlist (go req thanks i have a lot of time)

part two

a/n - i really really really really liked writing this. i hope u enjoy it as much as i did. if you’ve read my other one shots u know i have a massive thing for angst and uh yea maybe i shuld stop - 

Bellamy had discovered her note by chance. He had been clearing his room of her things. Finally ready to give them up to people who need it. Until he fell upon the her note strategically placed under the mattress. It was a crisp white envelope, and Bellamy almost chuckled. She hadn’t even bothered to seal the envelope. She hadn’t bothered to make it look pretty in anyway, choosing to leave it simple with his name scrawled on the outside. He had picked it up and left it on his table, afraid to open it. Afraid that once he read it, any sort of presence from her would be gone forever.

Everyday after his work duties he’d come back into his room and the envelope rested in the same place he had left it, mocking him, challenging him, tempting him to open it. He stayed up at night thinking about it’s contents. Was she giving some half-hearted excuse for what she did? Was she damning him and everyone else for letting this happen to her? Would it just be better to open it?

But everytime he reached over to do so, he broke out in cold sweat, his fingers shaking nervously and he would retract his hand almost immediately.

Today was no different, he stared at the envelope, wanting so desperately to hate it enough to burn it. Knowing that he never could. His door opened suddenly, and he stood up immediately.

“Hey Bell,” a familiar voice called.

“O,” he sighed in relief, if it had been anyone else he wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with them.

“You sound enthusiastic,” Octavia rolled her eyes, her gaze raking over him. Octavia had been close to her. Close enough to call her, her best friend even. Octavia had always been the emotional one in the family, however in this situation their roles reversed and instead, it was Bellamy who had taken the hardest blow after the news. Octavia had simply been shattered for a few days, but had picked up her pieces and continued on with life. At least that was what Bellamy thought.

Everyone has a different way of dealing with grief. Octavia had let it be known that she was grieving. She wasn’t afraid to pour out her emotions. She wasn’t afraid to manifest her grief into anger. For Bellamy, he was the kind that acted indifferent to everything that was happening, choosing to break down in the secret confines of his room. But people knew of his internal struggle. He let it be shown in his indifference toward the deaths of innocent people. He let it show when he neglected most of his work duties, and his friends and family. However no one seemed to bother to confront him, comfort him. And with no one there, Bellamy was free to crumble alone. Slowly, Bellamy could feel himself being numb to everything. Being there but not really at the same time. Detaching himself, slowly but surely from reality.

“Shut up,” he retorted, sitting back down on his bed.

“What are you up to?” Octavia asked, examining his room. She noticed the boxes almost immediately, pushed into a corner of his room. Her brother’s chicken scratch scrawled onto the sides of the boxes spelling out her name. It seemed he still didn’t have the heart to give up her stuff just yet. Her gaze returned toward him and she noticed something she hadn’t seen before. A stiff white envelope with writing on the front and seemingly unopened. “What’s that?” she asked, moving closer.

Bellamy followed her gaze and got up immediately intercepting her way and blocking her view. “Nothing.”

“It’s certainly not nothing,” Octavia scoffed, trying to shove her brother out of the way. He hadn’t anticipated for her shove to be that aggressive and stumbled back onto the bed. Octavia snatched up the envelope, reading the writing on the front. “Bellamy.”

“Give it back,” Bellamy said, trying to sound as apathetic as possible.

Octavia ignored him. “This is her writing,” she breathed. “Isn’t it?” Her fingers brushed the envelope flap. “She didn’t even seal it,” Octavia smiled, laughing a little. But it sounded melancholic and forced somehow. “Typical her.” She flipped open the flap in a swift movement and reached into the envelope.

“Don’t open it!” Bellamy yelled, without thinking, attempting to snatch the envelope back. However, Octavia moved it out of the way just in time, staring at him in shock. For the first time in months, Bellamy raised his voice. He had never talked to her like that. So angry and frustrated, his voice resembled a growl almost. The growl of a cornered animal.

“Bellamy,” she articulated, his name dancing on her tongue, approaching him carefully. “How long have you had this.”

“I found it,” he replied, giving up on trying to get it back. “About a week ago.”

“And you haven’t opened it?”

“No.”

“Bell,” she whispered. “You have to.” When he didn’t reply Octavia continued. “She would have wanted you to.”

“I’m not opening it and that’s final,” Bellamy hissed, looking away from the calculating gaze of his sister.

“Bellamy,” she tried again. “Please.”

“I’m not opening it!” he repeated, with more aggression this time, the hurt in his voice rising to the surface.

Octavia scoffed, her temper rising. “Bellamy Blake, [Y/n] didn’t die so you could spend the rest of your life hating yourself.”

“Shut up O,” Bellamy snapped at the mention of her name. Nobody had mentioned her name for a long time now. At least not in front of him.

“No,” Octavia retorted. “I’m not going to shut up and you’re going to hear this. I have endured your fucking attitude long enough. Everyone has. We’ve all been walking on eggshells around you, and I am tired of it. [Y/n] would have wanted you to be happy and to move on. She would have wanted to you read her last words to you. You are a snivelling piece of shit, letting yourself slack off [Y/n] would have been fucking disappointed in how you turned out.” Octavia’s words seemed to strike a chord within him. He stared at her, unable to reply. “Oh fuck Bell, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Her voice broke him out of his thoughts as he looked at her confused. He reached up to touch his face, feeling the wetness of his tears coat the back of his hands. “Fuck,” he cursed, hastily wiping away the tears from his face. “Fuck.” He continued to curse as no matter how much he wiped, more tears seemed to follow. He’s held it in for so long, the pain came out in the form of a never ending stream of tears. The beads of water slipped down the sides of his face without any signs of stopping, and Bellamy gave up on trying to stop them.

“Bell,” Octavia whispered moving closer and wrapping her arms around him. Bellamy returned her hug and pulled her closer toward him. They moved away, Octavia’s hands still on his shoulders. “Open the letter.”

“But what if that’s it,” Bellamy muttered, his voice cracking. “What if after I open that letter, she’s gone forever. Every bit of her.”

Octavia raised her arm and gently hit his shoulder. “Stupid,” she said. “She will always be here. Everyday, she’ll always live on in our hearts. She can never be truly gone. You know that.” She looked over to the pile of stuff that once belonged to the [h/c] haired girl. Bellamy followed her gaze, knowing she was right. “We’ll do it, together.” She gripped his hand and handed the letter back to him.

Taking a deep breath, Bellamy reached into the envelope and brought out two white pieces of paper, folded symmetrically.

Dear, Bellamy

If you’re reading this letter, I’m probably dead.

[imagine-that-one-thing]

#24 Harry please

Prompt #24.

“Somebody’s cranky.” “Somebody needs to shut up.”

You sense it, the nerves all around your body jerking as you wander into the bedroom and find the damp towel in the corner and a trail of dirty clothes to the bathroom.

“Goddamnit, Harry. Would it kill you to pick up your bloody clothes?” your voice progresses through the home and you hear his heavy footsteps immediately trailing your tone of voice.

You pick up the towel and the clothes with a dismal huff, your nerves rattling as you overhear him stepping closer and closer to the bedroom.

“What-”

You cut him off and pivot on your heels and you throw him the clothes and the towel, “we have a laundry hamper for a reason, you put your dirty clothes in them and they magically go downstairs and get washed. It isn’t hard to use the damn hamper,” you gesture towards the hamper that Harry appears to forget how to use. “And if by chance you forget where the hampers are, there is one right here and one downstairs in the laundry room, use them, Harry,” you heavily sigh, your arms still gesturing towards the hamper as he stands in front of you with his brow furrowed and his iridescent, malachite-green eyes blinking at you.

You roll your eyes and step forward towards Harry and you take the clothes from him and place them in the hamper, “see, not that hard, Harry,” you mutter and Harry lingers to gaze at you unostentatiously. He is used to you having a nectarine voice and an angelic smile but today, today your voice is far from nectarine and your smile is a grim expression.

“Are you going to keep staring at me like a stunned mullet or ?”

“What’s wrong?” Harry questions, his eyes scanning you up and down. You know what he is doing. He is doing what he does best- reading your body language.

Harry understands you better than you understand yourself, as much as you despise to admit it. Harry knows that when you’re nervous you either play with your engagement ring or you pull at the sleeves if you’re wearing a long sleeve shirt or cardigan. He knows that when you’re playing with the necklace around you’re neck, in a public setting, you’re uncomfortable. He knows that when your eyes are a lighter shade than usual, that you are disheartened about something that he may or not be able to fix.

Harry knows every way your body moves, he knows that it usually takes precisely seventeen steps for you to get from the stairs to the bedroom; Harry knows that late at night when you wake up, you do your best not to step on that one damn floorboard that creaks but without a doubt, no matter what you do, you always step on it. Harry finds it laughable and endearing. He knows how you take your coffee and your tea, just like he knows which one he needs to get depending on your mood. He knows how you’re picky about the sheets on the bed and the way the bed is fixed– you hate a half-assed job when it comes to the bed being fixed. Harry knows you like the back of his hand, and he knows right now, at this moment, that you’re moments away from exploding from bottling everything in. He knows by the way your eyes are crinkled with frustration that he has about twenty seconds to figure out how to defuse the frustration before all hell breaks loose. Just like he knows that right now, you don’t mean to take any frustration out on him.

“The hamper, Harry. Please just use it. Picking up your clothes gets irritating. Do you want me to leave my clothes on the floor?” You softly ask.

“I’d like your clothes to be on the floor,” Harry shrugs with a cheeky grin.

You know what he is doing, you recognize that he is exercising his witty and cheeky ways to attempt to get a smile out of you and in a way, it is kind of working. But you don’t want to smile,  you don’t want his quirky, cheeky and perhaps sexual comments to make you smile.

“Harry… this… just go away,” you shake your head before you run your fingers through your coils of leaf-brown hair.

Harry sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He knows he is walking on eggshells. He hates when he can’t break the ice and ease the mood. “Do you want dinner?”

“No, I thought I would just skip dinner and maybe try again tomorrow… Yes, I want dinner, I just haven’t cooked anything so if you give me ten minutes-”

“If you’d stop being pissy and jumpy, I’d cook,” Harry cuts you off as you stride around the bedroom to clean up the small messes from this morning. Tidying up is what you do when you’re nerves are rattled or when you need to keep your mind occupied so you can calm down. You need to put your energy to something.

You stop in front of him and let out a breath.

“Somebody’s cranky,“ Harry bluntly expresses, causing you to roll your eyes at him.

“Somebody needs to shut up.”

“Have you ever known me to shut up, love?” Harry challenges with that cheeky damn grin on his succulent, sultry and velvet soft lips that you haven’t managed to kiss all-bloody-day.

“No,” you shake your head, “you’re a pest that is persistent.”

“Calling me names isn’t nice,” Harry fakes a small pout, purposely trying to draw you in with his sweet demeanor and his dewy, mist valley-green eyes that are doing quite a number on you.

“You’re a pest but you’re my best. You’re my pain in the ass that leaves his clothes on the floor just to piss me off.”

“I don’t do it just to piss you off,” Harry chuckles, reaching his hand out to grab yours and he gently pulls you closer to him, “sometimes I leave my cup on the sink just to irk you a bit,” Harry winks, causing you to stifle a small laugh.

You’re aware of the small things he does. You know he does it out of love ~most~ of the time. Sometimes he does it to purely be an aggravating pest. But most of the time he does it to bring a smile to your face. He wouldn’t be Harry if he wasn’t leaving something lying around for you to find.

“Mhm,” you hum, “sorry for yelling a minute ago.”

Harry shrugs as you settle between his legs, “wanna tell me pissed you off today? Besides my towel and clothes?”

“Everything… spilled my coffee this morning and I didn’t have time to get another one.”

“Ahh, all of this because you didn’t drink your morning coffee? Told ye’ it wasn’t good to be wired on it.”

You roll your eyes and tenderly hit his chest with your hand, “don’t be mean, not wired on it. I didn’t get my coffee, my boss is a fucking arse, he needs to get laid. The check engine light on my car is on, so you might want to look at that one for me, sounds bad… It was jus’ a shitty day and everyone pissed me off.”

“Well, the engine light being on isn’t great. You’ll have to take my car and I’ll look at yours and fix it or take it to the shop. As for your boss, he probably does need to be laid, not being laid can leave people cranky… is that also your problem?”

“It might be my problem,” you nod, “you’re not getting laid tonight if that is what you’re hinting at.”

“Damn,” he sighs playfully, “anythin’ else on your mind that has pissed you off? Let it all out.”

You think for a moment and remember your neighbour, “bloody neighbour still being a Curtain twitcher, but god forbid she waves when I say hi.”

“Yeah, she hates us,” Harry nods, “don’t know why she enjoys watching us though.”

“She’s probably bored and miserable, I swear the woman is always on her porch rocking back and forth.”

“I’ll be more concerned when she is on our porch, until then, I need to know what you want for dinner,” Harry benevolently taps the sides of your thighs and you stand back to your feet and he does the same.

“Anything besides that healthy food, seaweed smoked dinner you like.”

Harry chuckles and kisses your forehead, “unhealthy food it is,” he mumbles.

You nod with a smirk, “I love you.”

“Mhm, sure you do,” Harry hums as he walks out of the bedroom, leaving standing in the middle of the room. “I love you, too,” Harry calls from down the hallway, causing a smile to form across your lips…

[wonderlandmind4]

Delicate Stages: Chp 2

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x OFC Ana Rios

Summary: Bucky Barnes agrees to participate in Deprogramming Sessions. What he gets is not anything like he expected.

Bucky is seriously considering going back on his decision, and his feet shift towards the exit of their own accord. The thing is, as easy as it would be to just leave, to slip into the shadows, he does not want to run anymore. He is tired of it.

Warnings for this Chapter: Language, Slight anxiety, slight self doubt, an over use of coffee consumption.

Words: 2,959

A/N: I feel like this is just jumping in there. Mainly because I can not write opening chps for shiz. Feel free to ask questions if confused. Also, my “keep reading” function keeps messing up words, idk why. (tagged) @justreadingfics @nerdyandproud9​ (gif not mine)

Another round of coffee has been poured into Ana's cup. Bucky has a feeling she only went for a refill to give him some time to adjust after their greeting. He appreciates it, but finds that he doesn't really need it. He hasn't felt like he's a flight risk around her yet, so he doesn't mind not adjusting. He still appreciates it though.

"So," Ana begins, after she's sat down again. She uses the thick heel of her boot to rock herself back and forth in the chair. "Eventually, I would like us to be honest with one another, otherwise this won't work very well."

Bucky agrees. "Makes sense."

“We'll just talk today. It can be about anything. If you’re curious about anything, the weather, me. I'm all ears, James.”

Other people have called him by his first name, or last, or even Sergeant, and he always corrects them. This time, that name just doesn't sound right coming from her mouth.

“Bucky. Please call me Bucky," He insists, giving her a tentative smile.

"Okay. So, Bucky, any questions?"

"Are you a shrink?” The question blurts from his lips before he can stop it.

Ana snorts again, falling forward in her chair. “God no. That would be way too much for me. Not saying that psychologists are bad, that just wasn’t my route.”

“What is? What exactly do you do here?”

“I’m…I don’t really have a title to be honest.”

“You seem to have a high level of authority here.”

“Thanks to Steve,” Ana admits with a nonchalant shrug.

"What?"

“Well, you obviously know why he brought you here. Not just for Deprogramming, but for all the other stuff that comes with it. Mentally, for one. Emotionally, physically. He’s talked to you about this right?”

They talked about it on the car ride up. That the possibility of a full body deprogramming is high, that much Bucky tells her. He didn't expect the process to go easy; one, two, three, out the door. It's going to take time and mental, emotional, and physical endurance. It's been seventy years in and out of brainwashing and that damn ice chamber.

“There are going to be side effects," She continues lightly, "probably some long days, some sleepless night. It’ll take a toll on you in every aspect, I’m here to help you through it all. Steve cares for you, and I care for people. I guess they call me, unofficially, a Psychological Healer. I'm a non-combated agent. I typically just work within the Healing Ward helping with psychological and sociological elements."

A hard swallow. A flare in his heart rate. “A Healer? Orders from Steve?”

“Not orders, and I am going to make this very clear, Bucky. You are not, and will never be my orders. You are not an assignment, a project, or a mission.”

Bucky locks his eyes with hers, and he counts the golden specks laced within the rich brown irises; nine. He doesn’t know why, but his heart is pounding a little harder, but not from anxiety. It feels different, warm, comforting…accepted. It feels human.

“Understood?” Ana prompts firmly.

“Yes,” He breathes out.

Ana smiles at him. “I’m here to help you. No orders. Steve just thought I was the best choice. I want to help you, so I am going to help you.”

Bucky oddly finds himself wanting to believe her. Hears the open sincerity in her voice. The way she has been looking into his eyes since they met with no fear. She is looking at him like he is a human being, not a weapon for another cause.

“We can stop if you want,” Ana offers, leaning back in her seat again. “Sometimes I overwhelm people, too much too soon. Headstrong, runs in the family.”

“In a good way,” Bucky replies, suddenly having the need to reassure her.

Ana gives him a strange look. “Thanks?”

"So, not a doctor?"

"Nah, I'm just very...empathetic," She answers with a touch of mirth in her smooth voice. “Though I do have a degree in Psychology and Sociology.”

Bucky lifts his mug to his lips and says, "So he put you in charge of me?"

"If you're into that sort of thing."

The coffee Bucky just took a sip of nearly goes down his airway. He coughs once against the ceramic, blinks rapidly so his eyes don't water and stares at the woman sitting across from him. She has her face turned to the side, lips to the rim of her cup, but her eyes are wide. There's a slight tint of a blush on her cheeks, but other than that, she remains perfectly calm. Something is rising in him, from his stomach and making it's way up his chest. 

Bucky laughs.

"Sorry! It just slipped out," Ana groans, wiping her bottom lip with her thumb.

Bucky will take this quick witted, sharp tongued, nonjudgmental...beautiful girl over anyone else who may had wanted her position. A small surge of hope shoots through him again. This is nothing like how he thought today would go.

"Want to see your room?"

***

When Ana first entered the lab, with Agent Sharp yacking in her ear condescendingly, she had no idea how the day would go. She saw Bucky Barnes sitting patiently, if rather skittish, on her desk. She had no idea if it was due to his first day, or the guards on the second level watching him with subtle, sharp vicious eyes. She saw them idling about, but Ana knew how focused they truly were. Of course no one in the room was going to just let the Winter Soldier sit unguarded. It churned her stomach the wrong way.

She just hopes she didn't come off too strong. Though she figured jumping in with her quirky way of doing things was better than walking on eggshells. Captain Rogers told her to do exactly that, so she did, and if Steve gave her permission, then who was she to refuse. She could've held back on the coffee bit though. No one seems nearly as excitable about coffee as she does.

As Ana leads Bucky to his room, she feels a light buzz in her blood, prickles softly at her skin. She tampers it down, locks the sensation away for another time. She has been a little worried since meeting him, if only because she doesn't want Bucky believing she has ulterior motives. She doesn't, she really hopes she can convey that. Sooner rather than later, but the nervousness makes her own energy and emotions act up. She does what she does best, and pushes them aside for the moment.

Ana reaches their destination, opening the door. Bucky glances around the spacious room, with two windows that face the woods and an en-suite. The bed frame, with its black headboard, dawns a queen-sized mattress raised off the dark hardwood flooring, with four pillows and a dark blue comforter. There’s a single dresser pressed against the opposite wall, a desk opposite and a closest adjacent to that. The electronics on the wall look advanced, sleek, standing out against the light gray walls.

“This is for me?” Bucky inquires quietly, bypassing her and stepping in further.

“Yes. It’s not much, since people are greedy and took the rooms closer to the kitchen. I hope it’s okay,” Ana notices the way his eyes flit around the room, expression calm yet calculating. 

He’s looking for exits.

“There’s also a way to escape via the bathroom window in the shower,” She tells him casually. 

He turns to give her a quizzical look. 

“It’s wide enough to lift yourself up and push it out. I just hope that won’t be necessary. This room is yours for as long as you want it to be. I know it must be hard to settle here, to believe that nothing and no one is after you. But I hope this place can be a safe haven for you one day.”

“Are you sure you can’t read minds?” He quips, quirking an eyebrow.

“I’m just very perceptive. Comes with what I do,” Ana shrugs.

Bucky hums understanding. His face twitches for a moment, like he’s self-conscious about something. ”I don’t have many possessions."

"I think Steve said he'll help with that," She points to the closet. "By the way, that backpack of yours is in there."

There's a split second of a break in Bucky's expression, relief flooding his blue eyes. He goes to open the closet door, finding his backpack suspended on a hanger. Ana is content to watch him as he unzips the bag, and rummages through it. Whatever he had in there is important and holds meaning to him. 

She watches the muscles of his back shift, the tension in his shoulders from earlier have subsided a little. Ana's phone buzzes in her back pocket. She pulls it out, checking the message she received.

She clears her throat. "I have to go now." 

Bucky looks over his shoulder at her, as if he forgotten she was there. 

"You're welcomed to explore the area or stay here, or nap,” She suggests. “Whichever. We usually have dinner around, well, depends on who is cooking. Six-thirty or seven. I'll see you then?"

Bucky blinks, his arm still in the bag. "Thank you,” He sounds sincere, if a little shy.

Ana flashes her friendliest smile. Her goal for the moment is to make him feel as welcomed as she can. She gives a little wave, backs up and bumps into something. She glares at the object.

"That's a door," She states obviously. "Right. See you later." She ignores the amused smirk Bucky gives her, and leaves, quietly shutting the door behind her.

While she's walking down the hall, she looks at her phone again. Steve has requested a briefing with her regarding the Deprogramming Sessions. She makes her way out to the living compound, heading down the walkway that will lead to the facility. 

As first time meetings go, that one with Bucky went pretty well. Minus her irritation at Agent Sharp. She hopes Bucky over looks that, and that the energy within that moment remained calm, positive. For him.

She ends up having a long phone conversation with Pepper after the meeting. To which her cousin informed her that Tony kept certain information from her about who was leading the Deprogramming Sessions. Ana reassures Pepper that she is fully capable of handling it. It doesn't stop the apprehension in her chest though, the dark cloud of her past looming in the confides of her mind.

They had fallen silent after that, and Ana senses that Pepper knows she isn't 100% sure about it either. Not yet at least. It's just, the last time she even considered toying with the idea that she could help someone, it didn't end well. Pepper insists it isn't her fault, but Ana will forever blame herself.

Before they hung up, Pepper wished her all the luck and made her promise to visit soon. Ana is left with a bittersweet notion of that promise. She doesn't think she will be able to leave for a while, and she misses her cousin. She's the only close family member she has, being Ana's father's niece. Distant family members are scattered across the country and Puerto Rico but they don’t speak to each other often. 

Ana sits up from the lounge chair on the rooftop, overlooking the lush trees. The wind is a little heavy today, but it feels nice. It's not bitterly cold like it was a month ago. It says Spring is around the corner, and soon the temperatures will being to warm again. She sits there just enjoying the view and the sounds of nature for a while longer. When her phone tings with a text informing her that dinner is ready, Ana gets up.

She walks over to the trap door across from the main roof entrance, pulling it open. Carefully, she makes her way down the small latter, and hops down the last step into her room through the window. She was very excited she got a room with roof access. Gives her an escape when emotions, energy and people get too much. She plugs her phone in, and exists her room

Being that her room is the last one down the long hallway, Ana passes three more bedrooms. They're all spread out far enough that it makes for good privacy. She passes Wanda's room, then Sam's because he wanted the middle one with the giant window, the diva. The last room she passes before the hall turns left towards the lounge area, is the newly occupied one.

The door to Bucky's new room is closed, and she debates if she should knock or not. Ana can smell the food from where she's standing, which means he can certainly smell it too. Maybe he chose to get settled rather than meet a rather boisterous group of people. Who he has probably fought with before...right. It makes sense.

Ana continues walking, makes it to the end of the hall, then turns back. She's going to invite him anyway because she wants him to feel welcomed. This is his home now, he shouldn't feel ostracized.

"I already told him," Steve says from behind her. Ana turns again. "Said he just wants an early night in."

“Alright,” Ana sighs in understanding. She walks up to Steve, hooking her arm with his. "Did Sam make lasagna?"

"Yeah," Steve chuckles as they walk into the lounge. "Opened that new bottle of red too."

"Goddammit, Wilson!" That’s her bottle of red wine.

A heartily laugh echos around the room.

*

Nearly two hours passed after dinner, Ana and Wanda cleaning up the last of the dishes. There's a plate set aside with two pieces of lasagna, some salad and garlic bread. The bread and lasagna are still warm from sitting in the food warmer, Ana having added the salad after she took it out. Her eyes drift over to the hallway, digging her teeth into her bottom lip.

"Just go give it to him already," Wanda speaks up, nudging her elbow. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"What if he's sleeping?" Ana glances at the clock. It's only a quarter past eight.

"If he doesn't answer, then just leave it in the fridge. He'll find it."

"I just want him to feel accepted."

"Let him feel accepted by you first, that's the important thing, yes? Plus, his energy feels off. Being around us tonight would've made him more nervous."

"You feel that too?"

Wanda levels her with an unimpressed look. "You feel it tenfold, Ana. Don't pretend."

"I'm trying to tamper it down. He doesn't know about it yet."

"Not something you talk about upon a first greeting?" She teases.

Ana rolls her eyes. "Right. Because going, ”Hey, I'm an Energy Alchemist and Empathetic Healer which means I can feel every single one of your emotions and feelings without your permission”, would be a great way to start that off. Good trust building tacit right there."

Wanda's fingers glow for a moment and a crumpled napkin hits Ana in the face. "Don't be a smart ass. You don't do it without people's permission. Give yourself some credit. Just go bring him food."

Ana throws the napkin back at her, but her friend just sends it to the trash. Wanda is right though. Ana is stalling and she doesn't really know why. Maybe it feels a little like invading his privacy on the first night by knocking on his door. Something is hovering from the corner of her eye, Ana glares.

"Fine! I'll bring him dinner." She grabs the floating, red glowing plate from mid air.

"Finally. You've wanted to all night. I'll finish up here." Wanda offers.

Ana smiles at her. She grabs a clean napkin, a knife and fork as well, and heads towards the hallway. She can see that Sam's door is closed, but the soft music emitting from it says he is still up. Everyone else seemed to beg off early as well, and that makes for a nice quiet night.

Once she reaches the door to Bucky's room, she takes in a short breath. She exhales, gently tapping her knuckles against the wood. He doesn't answer. Ana listens for a few moments, hears nothing but silence. She tries once more, knocking a little harder. If he doesn't answer, then she'll just put the food away. 

Nothing. Ana turns, taking a few steps down the hall when she hears the door click open. She whirls back around, smiling at Bucky's head poking out from the small gap.

"I brought you dinner, in case you were hungry," She informs, closing the space between them to hand him the plate.

Bucky opens the door wider, he's wearing soft gray sweatpants and a black tee shirt. With a tentative smile, he accepts the plate. His hair is pushed back behind his ears, and he looks sleepy. Like he really was going to bed early.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" Ana questions. She'd feel bad.

"Nah, I was just..." Bucky trails off, like he doesn’t know he should say the next words. "Writing."

Ana doesn't press. "Alright, well, enjoy."

"Thank you."

"Sam made it, so thank him if it's good."

"I meant for today," Bucky clarifies. "Just...thank you."

She doesn't know exactly what he's thanking her for, but she smiles anyway. "Of course. See you tomorrow?"

"Seven?"

"Who the hell is up at seven in the morning?" Ana scoffs, offended. "Why would anyone willing get up that early?"

Bucky chuckles. "Not a morning person?"

"Not even a little. Nine. Nine o'clock."

"Nine it is then."

Ana huffs, muttering. "That's still too early."

"Goodnight, Ana."

"Goodnight," She grins at him.

Turning on her foot, she heads towards her room. Ana hears the door close quietly behind her. Despite her nerves of the entire day, she doesn't think it could have gone better.

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

Previous   Next

[lalunangel]

I guess there’s this song.. and one more by him that I heard and I was hooked... back then my ideas on love were negative. I knew what my mom and dad did and I thought love was dead. The first boy I had ever been in love with cheated on me with a thuggish girl.. told me I was too soft.. said I wasn’t worth the year and 9 months he spent with me. In a weird way I wanna day it broke me but I didn’t have a song to put it to.. other than “I’ve given up on you by Real friends.” It was the only way I could identify it being over. I’m sure I cried over him. I’m almost positive I still had hope I was capable of loving rightly. Every guy after him though was just a game.. and they always cheated on me and I’d move on like it didn’t happen. My first abusive relationship happened when I was 12.. he would hit me and I accepted it but I knew I didn’t love him. I dated Angel C.. and he’s the one who made flowers bloom in my head and heart... then when we were freshman he did what he did and I think it was the first time I was actually sad I lost someone romantically. I moved on and played games with other boys. Andrew V.. used to hit me and emotionally abuse me and manipulate me into feeling like I absolutely needed to isolate myself. He shows me Chance the Rapper but I never correlated the music with him. I didn’t love him I just loved the freedom I felt with him... and the fear probably excited me back then because I hadn’t experienced anything. I was 15... going on 16. I dated De... and that was just a poor excuse but this was during the summer where I got to experience freedom for real.. my mom gave me up. Dropped me... and I got to skate all day and night and I spent days with him. I knew I wasn’t in love but I know that when I think about him “Let it go by James Bay” plays in my head.. he’s the silent breeze that creases your face. Makes you wanna chance the sun or stars.. he makes living feel like the spiritual feeling exists. But he’s not a good lover. He’s a friend and that’s it.. until he can find another emotonally depending human just like himself.. a level of clingy I can’t reach.. but never in his life would he hit me. The next big I dated was my current boyfriend Guillermo.. it didn’t last because we were together the whole school year but after May ended I realized he wasn’t going to text me back so we just fell off. Never actually said it was over but both knew we were done. I dated Tyler.. Tyler was scary and worse than any other boy I had dated.. on purpose made me feel small and spat me out and chewed me up.. hurt me.. actually.. when I think about him I feel cold.. like although we playing during that summer.. I was stuck in winter with him.. “Bloom by The Paper Kites” was probably the only song I felt but not because I felt love... I felt like love was far away and distant from me.. and that it was leaving me in a nasty haze of craze.. I wanted to be something to him but the more I tried the less interested I became.. he said that I should’ve killed myself a lot. Wouldn’t let me text anyone. Always on the phone even when I was at school when it finally came back around.. I shook under the pressure of him.. I was walking on eggshells but I didn’t do much else.. I called it off one day and blocked him. I got texts from our mutual friends saying how I owe him. I owe no man a damn thing especially when I’ve given my fucking all. I was the beautiful ripe age of 16 when I made that choice. I won’t put his name in this for personal reasons but my ex.. I dated him before I got back with Guillermo.. but we broke up because he cheated on me with her. And I didn’t have the energy. So “I don’t love you anymore by Real Friends” was his song. I would play it every time he sat next to me or made excuses to try and touch me. Someone told her he cheated on her with me and i was livid because it was the opposite but I just decided whatever they chose to say is what will be. He told her sorry as if he actually did it that way but never apologized to me. But I kept it bottled. I dated Guillermo again once I was 17

There’s still no song to match the love or the break up. It was mutual yet again an understanding but I know I would cry to the sad songs on the radio and on my phone but none of them were actually reserved for him. So.. I dated Dominic. I know I dated way too much for someone so young but I was still trying to test waters and see if my affection was real.. or if I was just like my mom. “Flower (Acoustic) By Vanna.” Was his song.. I had fallen in love with him quickly.. I hadn’t even noticed at first. But once I heard this song I cried because I knew that everything was biased and placed around him. I loved him. I was too young and too foolish. I don’t like people who try to fix me so when we broke up... I didn’t have a song for him. I just said “I don’t want to say I loved you enough to waste my time” but I did. I loved him so deeply.. he cheated on me too and I didn’t feel much towards it. It meant nothing. Senior year I dated my ex. I didn’t listen to music as much. Actually I would only play “Relax and focus” music.. it had scared me. I guess this time around I had decided that “I know it’s over By The Smiths” was the song I wanted to put labeled on out “love” but I wasn’t sure if I had loved him still. It was just convenient. He cheated on me yet again and I took some time from dating. I just hung out with my friends.. I guess this is when I found “Ocean of Stars by Demxntia” and I had wanted to be in love with someone so much that this had its own happiness around it.. but all yeh boys asking weren’t worth the ache and I wasn’t about to be stupid again. So I had given myself time and only hung out with people inside and outside of school.. Guillermo quickly became my favorite again.. we’d do homework together and laugh.. and we’d see movies.. take naps in his car. Go out to eat. During lunch we’d go check on his dog and mine. I didn’t realize that it was going to happen but one day while he was walking around market street with me he held my hand quickly and said “I have to tell you something” and I still didn’t have a song to dedicate to this poor boy.. at least not yet.. “Another you by Of Mice and Men” played one day while I was crying for my dad.. and i realized I wasn’t crying over him anymore... I was crying over you. I dated that ex again.. the stupid fool in me expected it to be okay and work out but it didn’t.. and I dated Dominic again but you could never love these people.. ever again.. after the ache.. and i realized although I had lived dominic undoubtedly I didn’t love t-him in that way. Then I found “The words I should’ve said by Demxntia” and I had thought about you.. Guillermo.. and I realize all these songs I’ve dedicated to other boys hadn’t even been the words I wanted to give them.. they just were the words I couldn’t find in myself to give to you.. they were the awkward declarations I couldn’t give to you yet because we never broke each other.. but the time we did... I did regret it. I loved you. This was the first time we left and it wasn’t mutual or understood- it was angry. The only time I had felt hurt by you. I didn’t need to give you songs back then. Didn’t need to label you or stamp you.. you were my forever and I should’ve saw that.. you were the only decent one.. all the love songs I gave them were songs I wanted to scream at you.. and when we finally started talking again... I felt so relieved.. I didn’t think things would go back to normal but when they did.. when you said you loved me.. I couldn’t be anymore grateful. I know it’s late and I’m making a stupid music post about my dumb history.. but I took so long to figure out who I really am. Way too long to figure out if I was able to love or not.. and I have.. and I carry them with me always but I sometimes skip the songs because I don’t accept broken hearts anymore. I just want to feel like I exist in joy... and you’ve done that. And I’ve worked hard to get here.