#and as time went on the remaining got more stale and even worse

[bookwyrminspiration]

THE RICE KRISPY CURSE HAS FINALLY ENDED IM FREE MAYBE HAPPINESS DOES EXIST

[therealslimshakespeare]

Am I Still Your Favorite Escape?

Gale & Maureen -requested? ✔️

As a new year and a new unrelenting malaise settles over the prisoners in camp, Maureen Kendeigh finds the journey from viewing Gale Cleven as her prize collector’s item to the man others suspect she loves most harrowing indeed.

Note: y’all wanted handjobs and I gave ya one, with a twist, and yall wanted more of what Maureen is thinking during this time and so you got it. Along with 6k of other dynamics and plot and feelings, buckle up 👐🏻

Warnings: 18+ smut, female fingering, some cum play, semi public sex acts (not trying to be exhibitionists, but the place is packed ok?) erectile disfunction, not the most supportive attitudes towards partners feeling out of sorts, BUT ALSO!! Please note the typical universe warnings apply with an addition in this chapter being a discussion about terminating a pregnancy, those discussing it disagree strongly and due to religious beliefs one refers to it as “murder”. No action is taken in this chapter. There are hints of Buck x Bucky in this one, although can anyone actually define for me wtf was going on!? Because by Buck x Bucky I just mean they’d die for each other and that’s stronger your average marriage and Bucky maybe should look away when his friend gets some midnight loving, lol.

Maureen had been enthused at the outset. Not that she cared that much for subversion, but she enjoyed the feeling of mischief that their new task carried with it. Camp had proven dull, worse in many ways than she had even expected. She had expected there to be work if not recreation, and while there was some, then the winter months came all too soon and nothing about their shelters or their clothing were suitable for sustaining outdoor productivity.

Which meant she -and the others, she supposed it was only right to admit the others were no better- she had been cooped up in here during a never ending snowstorm outside, watching Gale sand his little board in a room muggy with pungent sweat and stale breath. They were packed on top of each other in here and any attempt to get fresh air earned one a case of frostbite.

That bit of wood was going to become a radio, Gale had told her, and she believed him. With all her heart Maureen believed him. But there came a day when watching Gale fiddle with a safety pin stuck atop a board became unarguably boring. So much so she had begun to insist she be allowed to help Brady and Crank haul in the hot water and assist in what went for “cooking” in this place. Johnny didn’t let her near his precious concoctions after having ousted Benny from the same, but he did let her hand him bowls and generally act useful at mealtimes.

She kept him entertained with stories of picnics in exotic places, safari’s where they cooked out of the back of her father’s jeep. Brady had them eaten all his terse quips about her not knowing how to manage in straitened circumstances and instead asked her endlessly about rhinoceros habitats. It served to entertain her for awhile, too.

Bucky had recovered after a few weeks abed, his movements remained stilted and she could still carry more water than his ribs allowed -a point she made to him daily as he swatted at her from his bunk- but as he recovered he became preoccupied.

Ida had also recovered, though not as thoroughly, having gone well over a week without so much as drinking water in her insensible state. She was weak, feverish and upon at last being plied with nourishment, she puked it right up. It was little cause for concern considering her illness, but as she grew stronger and her stomach remained contrary, some unease began to grow. By Christmas her brother Johnny had taken over the cooking in an endeavor to make something palatable but the woman was hardly the sort to be picky over her victuals. Benny and Brady’s watery soups were alike and they both came up within fifteen minutes of being eaten.

So then, their little room smelled of sweat, breath and vomit. Her brother and Hambone made mention of Crosby, it provided levity for a few days and Maureen was fast to join in. Until Ida had her at a private moment, the men in the hall or else out with latrine duty, and then she asked Maureen if she’d had her menses.

Offended at the implication that Gale Cleven would allow her any more than a mouth or handful of himself, Maureen hotly insisted she had. Three of them in fact, since arriving. She had the bloody rags to prove it.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when there began to be a very segregated group of men hovering and debating amongst themselves that Maureen began to second guess such an inquiry as more than moralistic judgment. Their Red Cross packages arrived with canned goods and bland crackers. Bucky began to bargain for the latter with a gambler's gusto -before inevitably handing his loot to Ida. Ida herself began gambling fiercely, for smokes.

Ida had never smoked in her life.

And now the place smelled even stronger of one more cigarette, sweat, breath and vomit.

The smokes seemed to help her, or at least, Maureen noticed her puking less by New Years. The early part of the new year brought new misfortunes, the confiscation of Cleven’s prized radio and a rash of miscarriages amongst the women. A rash was perhaps an exaggeration -only three or four, by Maureen’s count, and between her’s and Ida’s and Cleven’s discreet insistence, such incidents were passed off to the wary guards as heavy menses.

Maureen realized then that those were pregnancies from their guards, a possibility that she had not considered as she had not had reason to worry about it. That is, until Ida Brady caught her again at a moment alone, and asked her in the closest thing to feminine fluster that Maureen had ever seen her in, if she’d ever had reason “in your expeditions, as it were…” to possibly “eliminate a -poor decision?”

Being quite puzzled by this inquiry, and only picking up on the vague aspects -something she admitted to Ida straight away- Maureen admitted she drank most of her poor decisions away, a strategy that hadn’t failed her yet and she wished was at her disposal in this frozen mud pit.

“I’m speaking of- romantic decisions. Poor ones.” Ida had tried again, yearning for understanding in her voice.

Maureen remained nonplussed.

“A child, Maureen a-a pregnancy have you ever?” Ida hissed out at last.

“Gosh no.” Maureen sputtered, “I’m not a full idiot. Why would you ask? I strike you as enough of a harlot?”

“I’m merely looking for -remedies.” Ida pinched at her nose, a motion Maureen was familiar with watching in Gale when he was overwhelmed.

“Who needs it?” Maureen scoffed, quite sure that the odds didn’t stand many more girls suffering from the same, the poor food and rough conditions having ensured it for them.

Ida took her hand away but closed her eyes, mouth folding to a straight line. “I do.”

“Oh fuck.” Maureen plopped down beside her on the bunk in disbelief, they both stared at the opposite wall and its identical beds with rumpled bedding and starlets pasted on the walls. “Fuck.”

“They’re getting very stupid about it.” Ida said at last.

“What do you mean? Who?”

“The boys.”

“You’ve told the boys?” Maureen cried out, infuriated.

“They guessed, already, for God’s sake must even this be about you, too, Kendeigh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“It means while you’re bored and very vocal of it, some of us might die-“

“-we could all die in this shithole-“

“-or! Or worse,” Ida cut in fiercely, “have someone die for us by being idiots. Bucky is full of schemes of -of running off into the sunset. I suppose after he levitates us over the barbed wire with his magic carpet. I don’t know, but I- Maureen I know that if I go on much longer, it won’t just be me in danger. They’re either going to risk something terrible or get punished for not reporting me.”

“So what?” Maureen asked dully, having been excluded from an obvious inner circle regarding the issue and having now been accused of being trivial in her own sufferings, it smarted and she could not deny the flicker of unfairness she felt over it. “Want me to shove a coat hanger up you? The others too chicken?”

Ida visibly recoiled beside her, putting more space between them in the bunk. “I’m not going to- to kill it.”

“What kinda remedy doesn’t?” Maureen sassed, if they were to talk no longer in flippant pleasantries, she could do that.

“I’m just asking for help.” Ida’s jaw wobbled, her voice a wreck of desperation and Maureen could see with a small and ugly bit of satisfaction that the woman was truly close to losing her grip. It was satisfyingly human. As was her reaction to a remedy after asking for it.

“You come to me because you think I’m loose enough to know, and then you have the nerve to be appalled when I do.” Maureen pointed out, “That what all the smokes are for?”

“Yes.” Ida put her head back in her hands.

“Just won’t budge; huh?”

“No.” her voice sounded like she might be crying but there was no telling with those hands in the way.

“It would be stubborn.” Maureen muttured, thinking of the goddamn Brady family as she knew them. “Why won’t you get rid of it? You want to get rid of it-“

“-I don’t understand why it’s hanging on!” Ida’s wail came out garbled between her fingers.

“So let’s -unhang it.”

“I can’t. Kendeigh -I can’t.”

“I know it’s risky, but I know you’re not scared of dying.” Maureen muttered, attempting to understand.

“Candy I cant, I can’t murder it.” her voice had dipped into a sacrosanct whisper.

Maureen huffed in confusion, a substantial amount of pragmatism warring with what tiny bit of sympathy the threat left her, “It’s a German’s, at this size no more than a blo-“

“It’s a life!” Ida snarled back at her so viciously Maureen contemplated the likelihood of her having gone fully mad, “And it’s mine.” she rebutted, pointing to her chest fiercely.

“So you’ll let Bucky and Gale die for you, die trying to get you out of here but you won’t try to fix it yourself.” It was how Maureen saw it, and if she were to be accused of suggesting murder, she might as well have her side put out there, too.

“That’s how you see it?” Ida muttured, looking utterly defeated.

“If Gale dies over this, I’ll wring your neck myself. Keep smoking.” she advised with a shrug, “Maybe catch an elbow to the gut if you can.”

Ida pulled her hand away again to look at her, she’d definitely been crying then, red nosed and watery eyed, but she looked less aghast now than she had at the mention of the coat hanger. Maureen didn’t think she wanted condolences about it, or a pat on the back. Come to think of it, Ida was getting plenty of that sort of doting from the boys. No, Maureen didn’t feel like she needed that from her, and something sour and twisted in her heart made her loath to give it.

It worsened as the days went by, as Maureen observed their once innocuous routines with new eyes, noticing the boys' furtive plans, their hovering concern, their brought in provisions -offerings fit for a queen. It was understandable to show such care for her in her state, and ostensibly no one deserved it more than Ida Brady. But it left Maureen feeling adrift, like an afterthought, someone whose greatest challenge was their boredom. And ever looming were those great risks the boys bantered about like it were all a low stakes game of cards.

She plays thirty to forty sets of cards with Hambone, decimates Benny at chess, cleans the pans, even mops the goddamn floor. All to keep busy, perhaps even to spite Ida whose one assigned task is the floors. She cannot be accused of boredom or idleness if she has done all her own tasks and others’ besides.

In her spare time she would like to go with Bucky, to be of use in collecting things for Gale’s new little project, his precious crystal radio, but where women go -there go guards and attention and soon, the sheer mischief of the naughtiness of Gale’s construction wanes as she is left laying in her bunk watching him wiggle a clothespin around for the fifth day in a row. She had been so understanding for the first four. Even though she had contemplated a tiff with him over not informing her of Ida’s state as soon as he knew, she had been merciful and instead settled for holding the copper wire for him and brushing his cheek when he didn’t actively shy away in concentration.

He mumbles about needing to give it his full attention, about her needing to keep a lookout, about the danger of getting caught. She asks if it’s worth it then, anything that might get him killed is her enemy, even if it’s a little clothespin on a board. He looks at her like she’s from mars, unable to fathom why she wouldn’t understand its necessity. And he doesn’t come to bed until an ungodly hour of the night and immediately, upon settling in their bunk he is asleep, much to her chagrin.

She would have liked a kiss, a hand between her legs even more. She would have settled for those whispering little chats they’ve indulged in ever since Bucky laid atop Ida and all rules were broken -they’ve shared a bunk and as the winter gets worse, no one bats an eye. In fact, everyone’s stacked two for one, male and female alike. Brady and Hambone snicker and whisper in their bunk every bit as much as she and Gale do, Maureen is sure of it.

Instead Gale falls asleep. And he does it again and again, night after night. Bucky rummages on his own for supplies. Brady frets over Ida. Only so many people can play makeshift bat gammon in the hall. It does not pass the time. And Maureen grows ever more restless.

She feels expectantly happy when Gale’s work is finally complete, his finished product constructed and the moment of truth comes. They crowd around and wait with baited breath as his finger tunes it. And Maureen knows she is fully awful for her relieved feelings when it does not work. He can’t be killed for it if he scraps it. And he will come to bed at a reasonable hour now it is useless. The shake of his hand makes everyone else feel helpless in the face of his ever steady composure cracking, but while Maureen has no acceptable remedy for Ida’s plight, she does for Gale’s, and she waits for darkness with the relieved excitement of a child on Christmas Eve.

Gale does indeed come to bed, the radio not fully scrapped but heartily abandoned and hidden with its various parts in sundry places. And when he slips beside her, his nose is cold and he touches her like he has missed her. He pulls the covers to their chins, tucking them in with a small giggle, she is suffocated by it and yet he persists and this has gone on all winter until now it is their inside joke and he does it just to make her laugh, and when she laughs so does he, a honest little giggle of a thing, and she misses him worse than ever even as he pressed along the length of her.

It isn’t safe yet, not everyone is asleep but she bides her time with kissing him and he returns her caresses ardently, a thorough press of his lips and his tongue unreservedly sliding into place alongside her own, his hands warming up as they clasp her neck, turning her head upon their pillow. She wonders if they are loud even at this, but she was never the one to care, it’s Gale who objects and who hushes them, who makes them wait, who insists on being courteous even in hell, who only allows himself to lap at her when the place is abandoned or else full of the atmospheric noises of masculine snores.

Maureen does not mind waiting for him, or rather -she does, but he is implacable about it and when she attempts to persuade him otherwise she is oftentimes swatted and put in her place like a wayward child. Such correction holds a charm of its own when it is Gale Cleven administering it, but tonight she feels close to madness if she does not get her way so she allows him to kiss her as the quiet and steady breaths around them herald the unconsciousness of their brethren. She grows bolder, throws her leg over his hip and tugs at his buttons, hands rucking up his shirt and parting the heavy flaps of his coat. He is as burdened with layers as a Victorian maiden and Maureen enjoys the hunt for warm skin, the way he looks as ravished and expectant as any girl while she gropes at him, when she finally reaches him he always shudders, a full bodied thing that jerks even his neck.

Tonight she parts his layers feverishly and he mutters her name, again and again and his hands are clumsy at her shoulders and no progress is made on discarding her own clothing but she pays it no mind, she is direly hungry for him. Any touch of him, to make him shake and melt and pay tribute to her.

“Maureen.”

She finds the button of his trousers right at his heaving naval and she exults at the feel of the fine trail of hair beneath her fingertips.

“Maureen.” his voice grows urgent and she doesn’t heed it, he counts on her never heeding it.

She wiggles her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and skims the hairy plane of his pelvis before laying her hand on what she needs and -he is as limp as a dead mouse. She holds the chubby thing for a good long moment, very much like it were some useless rodent she had caught and must now dispose of, and she is filled with confusion.

“Maureen-“ he mutters again against her unmoving lips and she realizes with misery she mistook his pleading for a different sort.

It is not that she’s never felt him soft, on the contrary, there was a long time in the early days -when she wanted him and he wanted a promotion- that her hand would find its way between his legs, in a jeep or a bar, beneath the table while he helped her with her calculus. Once she felt him she became mildly obsessed, he was always tucked to the right and he was so substantially long and full beneath her palming, even in repose, that her determination to have him was only further cemented by it. Again and again her hand made it into his lap and again and again he would rebuff her, sometimes with startled propriety, occasionally with long suffering disbelief, more and more with almost parental disapproval.

Each reaction had been as satisfying to Maureen as if he were swelling into her palm. And soon enough, he was doing that, too. His hand growing a beat too slow before he grabbed her wrist, his mouth still twisted in dry reproof but his eyes began to burn. He was unbothered no longer and it was not much longer after that he was not even resistant.

Ever since, she could count on him to perk, to respond, to validate her own want of him with his own for her.

The fact it was in many ways a tortured surrender on his part only drove her madder, made her desire burn brighter, made the succumbing of the good, the right, the proud man all the more intoxicating. And again, as if they’d never shared all that, he was now as warm and floppy as a dead dormouse.

“Maureen.” he begged, half expecting tears again like her first night in the stalag, wincing as her hand squeezed him meanly, jerked at him a few impotent times in an effort to fluff him.

Her hand withdraws and he holds his breath, ready for a scene or a rebuke. His gut twists miserably, at fault twice over and yet -not really. But that never mattered with Maureen. He says her name again but she is still and deflated, and after a moment, she merley rolls over, giving him her back.

That is how he knows she is hurt, were she angry she would not have shrunk from being crueler than a few angry tugs. The silence is new and it makes Gale’s stomach swoop in an odd terror, like his next decision might rescue them both or plunge them off a cliff.

“Maureen.” He tries again, his hand on her shoulder, squeezing and trying to turn her back.

Her shoulder jolts up sharply to displace the gesture. “I’m not cold.” she informs him as she rolls further away towards the wall, and her tone is icier than the weather outside. He’s stunned, she’s never once ignored him, no it’s always ever been an escalation of her demands for his interest. Hell, even in Africa she had said she was cold and the presence of her head on his shoulder disrupted his tan, he got no end of grief from the boys about it.

Confused and mildly hurt himself, although he doesn’t know why, not beyond some tickling sense of unfairness about being blamed for being a bit out of sorts in the place, Gale takes his hand away and moves to lie on his back, to keep from crowding her. He thinks that in the morning he will explain to her how he is preoccupied with the radio, that his gut feels in constant free fall from the plans to escape, that everyone is riding on him for this thing to work and he just proved tonight he’s perfectly worthless at it. Nothing but buzz in his ear echoes around in his head and he replays the sound of that failure again and again, justifying her frustration with him. He thinks he’ll explain this all to her in the morning. And also-

-that he is cold.

He’s so damn cold from the anxiety and being still at his work at the table for so long his hands and legs go numb that he simply cannot imagine feeling bothered at this moment, cannot imagine it and it would seem that neither can the little guy. He doesn’t deserve a reward, not for fucking up at the one thing they’ve got going for them. He catches Bucky’s eyes when he rolls over, having taken up night shift over Ida due to insomniatic tendencies. He wonders strongly if Bucky would be as disappointed in him, if he is already. Just wait until next morning, Gale thinks, when I get to admit I’ve got no second plan. If it doesn’t work as is, no amount of fiddling is gonna make it better.

That settles heavy in his gut but does nothing for the swooping feeling, there is merely a loadstone in his belly, plunging downward in a perpetual free fall, and in his dreams the accompanying soundtrack is radio static.

There is a tiny sliver of freedom in the morning -and it does not come every morning- when Maureen has noticed there is still and quiet yet the morning routines are in place. Lazy and weak, the prisoners do not rise with the sun, although some stir and moan and try to meet the new day head on. The guards unlock the doors and yet many choose to lay abed. So many in fact that Johnny Brady ceased making breakfast at that hour as with so few ready to eat it, the ordeal became a waste. He does often fetch water for morning pit baths and teeth brushing, the occasional splash on the face to wash off the sleep.

Maureen has often contemplated these little slivers of time as a chance to break free. Not of the compound, that endeavor holds no fascination to her, but rather out of this combine and out from under the watchful eyes of people who know her all too well. Or think they do. They don’t, they very obviously don’t. And she’s losing all sense of who she is to be known by as the days go on.

She listens as Johnny gathers the buckets and milk pails, always gentle with the clanking metal, vestiges of the considerate boy his mama raised still clinging even in this place, and he hands an allotment to Hambone who is awake with him and less considerate.

Then there is the hushed flurry of beratings and the sleepy protests of trying one’s best.

They leave together, and they leave the door adjar as usual, to come back in quietly if needed. They’ll be gone for at least fifteen minutes, then they will come back and then Brady will leave again to run his two goddamn laps around the compound while that testicular looking bald headed doctor clocks his pace. Maureen doesn’t think Johnny likes running track or ever did it before, but he and Ida both took it up, the latter probably to get rid of the child and the former maybe to stay warm. The doctor didn’t care about the timing of Ida’s laps and soon she began to grow too large to risk attention by keeping Johnny company.

Now Johnny runs his timed laps alone and the only motivation Maureen can imagine for it, beyond the over-familiar assessment of his limbs by the doctor, is the chocolate he earns from it. Priceless sugar to keep up his specimen’s strength in this starving place.

Chocolate Johnny regularly gives to Ida. Though for Christmas he made them all a mashed chocolate pie on a tin plate and it had honestly been the kindest and loveliest Yuletide treat anyone had ever given any of them.

Maureen has considered running with him, trying her luck and seeing if she can win chocolate herself. Maybe that would make Gale smile. She doubts the doctor would care, he’s curiously uncaring regarding the existence of females in camp.

Maureen knows all these sounds of morning routine by heart, can track the progress of each stage of the routine while feigning sleep, motionlessly facing the wall.

Gale has no need to feign, it would seem. He is not snoring but he is whimpering and muttering in that annoying way of his that only occurs when he’s in deep. She used to think it cute, she now thinks it helpful to judge if he is able to catch her at her scheme.

-useless fucker with his useless radio and his useless cock, making her feel useless-

Careful as a cat, and with as much grace, Maureen rolls herself upright, and uses the slats of their upper bunk to balance her weight, keeping the mattress from giving a tell-tale dip. She swings from one slat to the next, carefully crouching when the movement jars the whole frame but Benny stays asleep below her and Gale makes no move to arrest her. It’s a feat to drop soundlessly to her feet after such a climb in a full overcoat, but she manages it. Her boots are under Benny’s bunk and she fetches them with no small amount of terror, but despite his shifts and erratic movements, he does not catch her.

She takes the boots into the hall, which is gratefully empty, and fastens them there. Taking her woolen cap from her coat pocket, she puts it atop her head while tucking in her hair, and fastens her scarf high over her nose, and knows that she is about as inconspicuous in form and feature as the next man. When Brady is bundled similarly his eyes appear as gentle as a woman’s and Maureen knows her own are no longer half so beguiling, not with their pale lashes and absence of cosmetic relief.

Perhaps she’s grown so wane and bland Gale has even lost the ability to pretend attraction. He always was fastidious about cleanliness and order, fussy and volatile when she took him unawares. In fact, when she had first managed to get so far as to undo his pants, to fondle his half hard length, to pull him from the slit of his drawers, to tug his shaft to orgasm, it had been beside the antiseptics. And that had some sort of parable in it, she thought now. Recalling how she’d had to talk him down off a panic as soon as he had shuddered and given her the sought after reward, hot and sticky and plentiful as only a virgin’s would be. He was not comforted until gauze and betadine was used copiously to clean her hand, and the nurse was later puzzled as to why when she entered only one had needed treatment, but both left stained with the orange stuff.

Back then a word, a flick of her eyes would have Gale in full pursuit, bodily if not mentally. She could wage a war with his ever so impeccable spirit and win it with the help of his own flesh. Now? Now he couldn’t even respond, not even pretend it. And he’d tried to warn her and she’d thought he’d been begging and she realized he wanted to stall her, keep it from her, one more thing.

These thoughts carried her dozens of rows down, combine after combine, lost in a flurry of snowflakes that were turning gradually pink as the sun rose. It was beautiful here before all the footprints ruined it.

At the far end of the sector, outside the last combine before the fence that separated them from the Brits, Maureen spotted a huddle of men gathered around a fire pit. She hadn’t known those were even allowed, not doubting that its proximity to the fence had some other subversive reason beyond warmth, and if she thought it then the guards must have. Yet here it was alright, jugs hung over it from a makeshift spit and crackers impaled and being toasted on the same. Maureen’s mouth watered, as much at the thought of genuinely smoke flavored food as she did at the heat. She was still undecided as to her course of action when a loud guffaw, followed by a familiar and harsh curse made her startle.

Polish airmen -or, at least by way of America. They would be sat out in the cold at dawn and they would toast their crackers. Maureen had frequently used her brief passes from Thorpe to terrorize other officer clubs, finding the joy of it a great distraction and some of the girls had joined her at it. She was usually greeted in such escapades with shock or even disgust but the men’s flailing helplessness in the face of a female serviceman always served as a full quota of contentment.

No one had terrorized her back as good as she gave until the Poles. And then they had bought her a drink, and lamented with her that she had not become a fighter pilot. Because Maureen still held a flame for the small craft, resentful that her decent piloting had been considered too poor for the clunky birds, for she knew she wasn't all bad, it was merely those awful forts and their terrible bulk. The Poles had agreed and bought her another drink, and tried to seduce her to their squadron. That had been a happy night and she’d come back to barracks so late as to break curfew, and chatted Gale’s ear off in drunken joy about her wonderful time and her new friends.

Maureen now eyed the fire in the snow and the group of foreign speaking men around it and tugged off her cap, allowing her hair free. And she sauntered up with calculated aimlessness, as if she were indeed only checking out their s’mores to ridicule them compared to her combine’s delicacies. It was effective, they defended their crackers vehemently and she remained derisive, this called for a demand that she try them and so she did and admitted they weren’t too bad but were too dry to be gotten down her throat. So they then passed her coffee and she had to squat to receive it and then she was given a seat to finish it and before long, she was one of the huddle and her feint at leaving them was argued against so heartily she knew she’d won, and so she stayed and played cards and told stories and drank hot water with boys who had been born over here but were in many cases educated not far from her house. And when afternoon came and went she stayed, and when evening fell and the guards became stricter with the perimeter and their fire, she snuck in with them into their combine and there played drinking games despite the violation of curfew.

For the Poles had liquor in this hell hole. And that, Maureen thought, was the true measure of a great nation, their capacity for ingenuity and irrepressible spirits.

Gale entered his own combine in the falling dark with the persistent press of a gun barrel at his lower back, right about at the kidneys, he figured. It was the only thing possible to persuade him to keep from looking, and the others were filing in right ahead of him, saving him a bullet their only motivation for abandoning the search. The guards locked the door after them, and Gale’s chest heaved in panic at the thought of her out there somewhere and locked out and him locked in.

“Fuckin’ Kendeigh.” Murph grumbled but without any heat,

taking himself to his barracks.

Bucky kept pacing up and down the hall with his hands in his hair, snapping at anyone who dared clog his promenade. “Jerries said it was time for bed -so get in your goddamn beds!”

“Why would she do this?” Gale begged him again and Bucky huffed again at it, furious for him.

“She give you grief last night?” Bucky asked wisely, the loyalty in his voice soothes Gale, as does the structure of his sentence, it suggested it wasn’t his fault. And Gale wanted to believe that and he just as strongly he knew it was wrong of him.

He had been in the wrong and he didn’t deserve Bucky’s sympathy for this or the damn radio. They’d been talking of repairs every spare minute of this day that hadn’t been taken up with trying to find Maureen. And while Bucky could remain as adamant as he wanted, that it wasn’t his fault that his radio didn’t work -it didn’t change the fact that his failure now meant Bucky was gonna try something awful instead, like climbing the fence with a pregnant woman on his shoulders. And it was all because Gale couldn’t fucking make a connection. Just as he couldn’t connect to his own body for Maureen and now she’d probably gone over the fence too, or got shot trying.

“So fuckin’ unless.” He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and mashed the tears away.

“She call ya that?” Egan barked, and Gale didn’t need to see his frown to know he was about to track down Kendeigh to punch her, not rescue her.

“No, don’t need a dame to tell me what’s what.”

He didn’t see it coming so he was reasonably startled when he found his hands dislodged from his eyes and his face suddenly collided into the weave of a musky sweater, Bucky’s hand gripping the nape of his neck like he were a child. That hand was so damn large Gale could imagine he was young again and his father was holding him. “Somethin’s gonna come to you,” this reassuring rumble was light years away from his father’s belittlements and he shuddered, “I’ll get you new wire or somethin’ but just- ain’t your fault, Buck, and that goddamn parakeet needs snow down her pants if she can’t see it too.”

No one pretended to sleep that night, even once the lights were out. Ida sat up in her bunk with her brother beside her, a telling lack of sympathy being expressed for Maureen’s self inflicted plight. Ida had spent her own time at the radio and while it hadn’t done much good, it had gone some way to reassure Gale she didn’t see anything amiss. It ought to work.

Small talk was kept carefully low in the bunks, and Bucky kept a firm position on Gale’s bunk, sitting upright with his legs slung over his friend’s boney knees, affectionately trapping him in a lying posture. Bucky had taken to entrapments here in camp, perhaps the barbed wire inspired him.

They had already given Benny his fair share of chiding for not going out with Maureen that the morning, although Brady’s report of her absence in the time he had fetched water plainly represented someone not wishing for accompaniment -or, as Brady so helpfully reminded of the obvious, her desire to obey Cleven’s long standing order on the matter.

It was probably close to 0100 when a great commotion sounded outside, followed by a crash bang of the combine’s main doors being thrown wide and the rhythmic tread of jackboots had everyone pouring out of their bunks and standing at the ready, -they weren’t sure for what, but it wasn’t something you wanted to be caught lying down for. Gale wrenched open the door, expectancy already perfectly in place on his face until he caught sight of Kendeigh, hauled like a child between the guards and one of their captains met his eye with unimpressed disdain.

“This we found in wrong sector.” he explained, gesticulating to Maureen with a gloved hand, “Sleeping under combine steps. I have told you, Major, I cannot guarantee safety of your females when they are alone, something happen to them, you blame me but I told you! Cannot guarantee.”

“Understood.” Cleven gave him his soberest nod, feeling ill and angry and watching warily for the next move, wondering when he could get his lost package back, yet not wanting to appear eager.

“Discipline, major, discipline!” The Captain insisted and Gale felt Bucky’s heat searing at his back as he pressed forward, taking the German’s eyes away from Gale’s, preventing something rash.

“Oh believe me, sir,” Bucky drawled as he pressed forward, the guards posture confidant and lax, “discipline will be met.” he took the brave step of gripping Kendeigh’s coat flap in his hand and tugging her forward, a movement that yanked her free of the gaurds’s grip.

“Met?” the officer was confused, anger and annoyance tinged his repetition.

Bucky shook Maureen meanly by her coat in emphasis of his statement, “Discipline!” he agreed, insistent.

“Well?” It appeared the officer intended to wait until it was meted out.

Bucky stalled and Gale caught Maureen’s panicked eyes even as her nose flared rebelliously with measured breaths, trying to get on top of it all. Gale felt himself pushed to the side abruptly, having to catch himself on the door as Ida Brady strode past him into the hall, the book she’d been perusing still clutched in her hand.

“Child.” she muttered loudly for the officer’s benefit before raising her book and striking Mauree square across the face, one cheek and then the other as the blow sent her staggering, sharp thwacks with the flat side of the volume.

Maureen took the reproof with good grace and a stunned whimper, Bucky’s still supportive clutch on her jacket keeping her from making a fully pathetic scene and melting to the floor.

“Go, in, get in bed.” Ida snapped her fingers, pointing to the door and when Maureen took a second too long to collect her spotted vision, Ida raised the book again and Maureen needed no more incentive, knowing if Ida did not deliver it the guards would.

She tumbled over the barracks threshold like a bedraggled orphan, hair snow drenched and cheeks throbbing, her jacket muddy and undone.

“Well done.” Johnny Brady greeted with montone venom and only Benny Demarco’s well placed foot tripped her and prevented her from clawing his face off in long suppressed spite.

She landed inelegantly on her face, elbows bent just enough to catch herself from a truly ugly splat, she was gathering herself for another spring when the troop of her officers sounded and the door closed and quiet fell over the place, lethal and accusing.

So the Germans had let her off easy then. Maureen drug herself up to her knees and suddenly wished she hadn’t, it felt too close to contrition.

She staggered upright, ignoring the indignity of having to push up on Brady’s knee to do so. Once on her own two feet she raked muddy fingers through her hair and smiled at her superiors, tired but dandy. They looked pissed and that was to be expected.

“The hell did you go?” The others seemed to acknowledge Gale had some right -or maybe it was responsibility- to address her first and it was leveled at her even more scathingly than she had braced for.

“For fresh air.” she chimed, leaning against a bunk brace, arms crossed easily.

“Sleepin’ out? Sneakin’ out?” Gale stormed on and Ida actually took pains to bypass him and climb into her own bunk, her merciful discipline administered she seemed to wash her hands of the business, “Flagrantly disobeying my expressed orders! Answer me! The hell were you thinking?”

“I wanted to get out,” she leveled back at him, her smirk grown sharp and practiced and debutant-worthy, “I wanted to be somewhere else besides in this stinking, miserable cabin with its miserable, stinking occupants. Nothing but a bunch of self righteous, maniacally focused dreamers who can’t have fun for shit.”

As soon as she said it, no regret came, only a feeling of utter validation. Indeed, what had changed since she had been gone? Ida was still sick and pregnant, Johnny was still fussy, Benny was still playing at cards, Bucky was still pushing Gale harder than any over the radio and her Cleven was cleaving to the damn thing like it were his god.

“I mean, tell me if I missed something essential!” She scoffed, “Some great development occur? Or was I needed for some great task you all missed me so desperately during? No? Didn’t think so. Because we don’t go anything in here except talk about getting out like it’s actually plausible and I’m sick as fuck of it and I-“ she pointed to herself, voice growing in volume as Gale’s own fury seemed to wane into something shocked and scared, “I have spent my day with men who have ingenuity and good humor and liquor, because they aren’t hopeless fucks like us. The Brit’s have a tunnel started, the Polish have one too along with a bathtub of potato peel vodka, and we have a pregnant colonel! Sto lat!”

It was terribly quiet for a moment, half the cabin's occupants intent on appearing discrete and the other half stunned into a sort of mortified offense.

“You gonna thrash her or am I?” Egan finally broke the tension, his head turning lazily to look at Gale, his mouth was grinning like he was eager and it made Maureen’s bruised cheeks flame. It seemed to be some private joke, Maureen could only tell by the way Cleven’s eyes widened in warning protest at his friend before biting his lip and sniffing harshly. Then the lights cut again and the place was plunged in darkness, it brought Maureen both relief at the obscurity and a strange feeling of terror at the pitch black surroundings. She still hated the dark, ever since those Gestapo cells.

“Take that filthy shit off and get in your bunk.” Gale’s voice so near and so sudden startled her, and it wasn’t rebellion that made her lag in response but he seemed to take it that way, the snap of his finger seeming dangerously close to her nose, and she felt his fingers pluck at her muddy coat, “Now, don’t test me, get in, now.”

She peeled it off and let it flop heavily to the floor before kicking off her boots with the same carelessness, and then taking a step up, digging her frozen toes into Benny’s mattress and hauling herself up to the next level, laying down with a shiver in the cold sheets. The quiet sounds of rustling and bedding filled the place, the others putting themselves away for the night too, but to her relief no one seemed to be murmuring about her. Then the bunk creaked again and the unmistakable feel of someone climbing in beside her made her gasp.

Gale, of course it was Gale, laid himself out atop her, like he planned to keep her there by his weight alone like Bucky had with Ida, and an odd feeling suddenly took possession of Maureen’s chest, one she hadn’t felt all day: she felt undeserving. His head was hard and awkward against her clavicle but she didn’t want to budge him, secretly and utterly grateful he was being kind, that he was not ignoring her. Maybe Ida was right and she was childish but if that were the case, what was to be done about it? She was as she was and she needed him, so tentatively after a few minutes, she withdrew her legs out from under his own and wrapped them around his hips, pulling him close all along her like they were mating, she meant it as a hug and she felt him limp and heavy between her thighs but she did not withdraw.

Gale waited patiently until the snores began, wind whistling outside so loudly it would cover their whispers, and she shuddered to think of herself being petty enough to try to sleep in that icebox. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong.” he rasped at last, raising his head a little and trying to get a read on her in the semi dark. “Maureen, you can’t worry me like that, please.”

“I’m tired.” her voice was weak from the effort to hold back an ugly sob.

“You've been tired before.” he soothed, “What about today? What about last night? What’s all this? C’mon, you can tell me, I need ya to tell me.”

Maureen sighed raggedly, always a sucker for his cajoling voice, more so when she knew she deserved and expected the thrashing. “You don’t need me that way. You don’t need me at all.”

Gale dropped his head a little, his hand reaching up to pinch his nose, humiliation and impotence warring with need to assure her. “I'm sorry about that.” he settled for, “I’m too fucked right now, I admit it. It’s all just, it’s a lot, we’ve all got a lot goin’ on. You too, I know, I’m just not right up there, Maureen. Doesn’t mean I don’t need you.”

“You don’t need me during the day and you don’t need me at night.” she had tried to dissuade herself of this painful reality, truly! -but those were the facts as she saw them and it hurt her worse than him.

“I’m doing this for you!” he begged, his large hand cupping the side of her throat and she would love to think it a caress but he was only trying to make a point, one she contested vehemently in her heart. “I won’t be okay until you’re safe, baby.”

Maureen scoffed, thick and bitter, she had no child, she had no threat, she didn’t need to get out. “I don’t have any reason to get out!” She seethed back, “What’s in it for me? Besides you dead and me too, maybe I’ll get sent back to the Gestapo. That’ll be lark. I don’t need to get out, Major, I need-“

Gale was panting in her face, hot and hurried as her own ire rose with each word, “What do you need?” he goaded, and she could hear him lick his lips.

“I need you to pay attention to me.” she said it.

And to anyone else it would have sounded the most petty thing of all, but to Gale Cleven it was something he already knew deep down when he wasn’t so caught up in the imminent might-be’s of their situation, when he wasn’t needing to save Bucky from himself, or Ida from being put down or Johnny from whatever Greek hell that doctor had enlisted him in. He knew Maureen needed him, not his brains or what he could give, not really, she just wanted his flesh, and he had never bartered in that currency before her, having always assumed it was cheap if not with love. He was not sure he was loved but he knew it was not cheap, whatever it was they shared. And he knew she needed him. Just as he needed her, even though he could not manifest it as he wished.

He could kiss her, though. That he could do.

She did not expect the plush press of his lips when she saw him duck his head against the halo of window light. He kisses with intent and with reproof and the part of her that enjoys his anger begins to thrum to life as mercy and justice both battle in his kiss, his tongue all forgiveness and his teeth implacable rightness.

“Why?” she whines at him, feeling herself need and yet he lays between her legs useless as a girl, “why’re you when you can’t-“ she has insulted him enough today, she trails off with surprising tact.

“Don’t mean I don’t need you.” his voice has gone gruff like it does when he holds her head firmly and grinds his once hard cock down her throat, “Don’t mean your boy don’t want you.”

And that’s all she needed, really.

Along with the feeling of his fingertips walking down her bare stomach, his hand somehow sneaking its way through her layers undetected until now. It awakes a trail of fire down to her core, her core that is already ablaze by his kissing, his neglect, his language.

“My baby.” she moans in ascent, loudly and exultant and a little mournful.

“I gotchue, I got you.” he swears into her mouth and his hand wastes no time in slithering between her legs, elegant fingers cupping her and smearing her arousal around beneath his fingertips.

“Fuck them into me.” she begs, his hand swiping and rubbing at her heat until her hole clenches in desperation, wanting the burn of a stretch.

He is used to her instructions, they’d have accomplished nothing these last months without them, he is able to obey without ceding one bit of control in the kiss and the dichotomy of it, of him, makes her spiral as long fingers plunge, three at a time into her like he’s mad at her, and she cums from it alone with a hoarse cry of shock. He leans up and over her, hair aglow in the dim light and his hand beginning to slam again and again between her legs, forearm hard at work before he brings his wrist to her mouth.

“Bite.” he tells her, an offer and an order and she does, repaying him the vicious assault below her waist where she is tugged apart and jammed at with all too much finesse, his thumb swiping at the apex of her slit everytime he plunges knuckle deep. Gale knows by now the signs of her peak but he pushes beyond it, adds his pinky until all four digits wreak havoc and makes her go again. She uses his wrist out of necessity not to wake the whole place. The sounds of her squelching may have done it for her.

He pets her after, his palm warmed up by his work and it cups and soothes her as she jerks and jolts and settles, and his nose nuzzles her own sweetly, murmuring her name again and again just how she likes it.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” he begs between smooches and Maureen feels entirely too weak to deny him.

“Ok.”

“Promise?” his tone and his hand grow firm again.

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” he sighs beside her and she thinks she could fall asleep now he’s wrung her out. He pets her a few moments longer, as if loathe to pull his hand free. He cups her one more time, collecting her wetness in the crook of his fingers before at last he does, carefully bringing his hand up and out of her waistband. He holds it in front of himself for a brief moment as if debating how to enact his thoughts, and she watches him curiously because he does not lick his digits clean like usual, perhaps she is too soiled tonight, even for his devotion.

Instead she watches him roll onto his back, hand still aloft and glittery with an obscene amount of sticky pleasure and his other hand trails to his own fly, popping the button deftly with his left hand and tugging down the fastening. Her breath catches in her throat, suspense and arousal at the familiar motion making her perk once more. Gale shimmies his clothing down his thighs until she can see him just barely, lying fat and peaceful against his thigh. He deserves a little peace, she thinks, now that she is not so cross with him.

She holds his gaze in startled suspense as he locks eyes with her, wanting her to stare when he moves his wet hand down and wraps it around himself, smearing her juices all over his soft member, clear and creamy swirls rubbed into the pink meat of him, down to his very balls.

“There,” he manages between her kisses as she assails him anew with desperate appreciation, “you’ve still got me. I’m still yours.”

She drags her hand down there to feel the sticky evidence of his promise, to rub and fondle him as he lays dormant in her palm. She has often snickered to him that he is too tidy to ever fully have sex, he has had qualms over even what they do with their hands, their mouths as well. He was pleased she could swallow only for the mess it prevented. She’s often told him he’ll find coupling a filthy business and he oughta brace himself. This tacky feeling under her palm is the closest they’ve ever gotten to the act, her fluids touching him there, drying on him. She appreciates the gesture, more than here heart can bear to ponder: she also knows he’ll regret it.

“I’ve got some amends to make.” she acknowledges after giving him one last kiss and checking that the coast is clear. Egan is doubtless still awake as usual and perhaps Brady, but it can’t be helped and she doesn’t give a damn. “Try to be quiet -don’t think too hard on it, it’s fine if this is all it is.” she preemptively cautions before he can realize what she intends.

She slinks down the length of him, careful not to jar the whole bunk, careful to keep a low profile to the blankets before dipping her head in the little nest of covers shoved around his thighs. Despite her assurances Gale makes a keening noise of confusion when her tongue darts out without preamble and licks up the seam of his balls.

“Maureen.” he sounds half strangled but his hand flies out, not to prevent her, but to pet her lustrous hair. She feels utterly content in that moment and continues her quest to tidy him up.

“You hate being sticky.” she reminds in a whisper before gently sucking on his soft tip, she can feel his belly heaving in relaxed sighs, the connection not fully alive and yet, potent all the same, he pets her hair more firmly and even pushes her head down further and she gets the hint, abandoning his soft cock head for the chubby vein beneath, licking stripes of herself off him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” she whispers to the inanimate little thing, remembering how meanly she squeezed it the night before. “I swear we’re still friends.”

Gale vaguely registers her apology to his bits and bobs but he is genuinely more distracted by two glinting shards across the room that have to be Bucky’s blazing eyes. Trained right on him. Holy hell, he feels himself shake and the closest thing to a twitch animates between his legs before he throws his hand over his eyes and pretends he is very alone. He pets her head more purposefully, long, feminine strands slipping through his fingers.

John Egan once put a bet on how long it would take these idiots to learn they were in love. It was once all a bit funny. And now, seeing in a dim haze what appears to be the ritual of making up, it’s not so funny any more. Today could have gone far worse, any attention to the women was bad attention and having Ida have to make a scene while hiding a belly like that was nearly criminal in Bucky’s mind.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t glad for Gale. No, he was so glad he was half jealous watching, imagining more than even seeing. He wondered if Maureen knew how much she loved him, he wondered how it compared to his own, and he ached like hell.

Next morning Gale woke up with a sore spot on his chest from the weight of her head lying there all night, and to the tinkering sounds of the metal water jugs being jostled. There was a laugh and a responding “shh” and another stifled laugh following. He rolled his head on the pillow and blearily cracked an eye open, taking in Brady and Maureen over their task. Or at least, Johnny was trying while fighting some whispered bit of comedy that Maureen continued despite Johnny’s wheezing protests and incompetent fumbling with his handles.

“You ain’t bein’ quiet, if ya think you are.” Benny’s grumble from the bunk below said what Gale was thinking, but he was too relieved to see Maureen awake, cheerful and integrated again to complain.

“I’m telling him about a Romanian girl in the other sector, met her yesterday.” Maureen stage whispered and Brady began to lose it again, muffling his whole face into his sleeve, milk pail abandoned on the floor so he could laugh. “There’s a fence between and she’s a fighter pilot but she’s seen him at his laps and she wants him.”

Benny stayed quiet a minute before his own laugh started and Gale could feel the vibrations of it from a whole bunk below. “She put in an order or somethin’?”

“Practically.” Maureen drawled, “She was so relieved to meet an American so arrangements can be made for my fellow. She has cows back home Johnny, she’d trade ten for you. Those big Eastern European cows, straight from a storybook, it’s worth consideration.”

“Grab your jug.” Johnny insisted instead in a small wheeze as he collected his own and strode out, looking behind to ensure she was following and beginning to laugh at eye contact. Maureen threw her head back and guffawed that ugly little cackle of hers as she went out.

“I think we missed part of the first act.” Benny observed about the joke from below, Gale didn’t know what talent it was but his co-pilot always seemed to sense when he was awake, no checking needed.

“Yup.” Gale puffed into his pillow, not giving a damn about the content of her material only that some material was back.

Someone else who was shit at playing asleep was John Egan. Gale slunk out of his bed quietly to not awake everyone else and went over to the sprawled out form of his friend, Ida tucked behind his back and the wall, genuinely asleep despite the nicotine she had coursing through her. Gale reached out and flicked at an overgrown curl dangling over his friend's face, the return momentum of it tickled his nose and he sneezed on compulsion.

“Sleep well?” Gale asked as Bucky stared up at him, betrayed and crinkly faced.

“Was.” he accused.

“Talk?” Buck proposed in a monosyllable and he watched Egan’s raw morning eyes shutter closed into something as readable as millponds.

“Yeah, sure.” There was a series of grunts and heaves of effort as Bucky righted himself and finally pushed out of the bunk, “Hall?” he asked while contemplating just how little he wanted to don boots right now.

“Hall’s fine.”

They went out together, it was quiet in the hall despite the awakening rustle in the various rooms off it. It stayed quiet once they’d both taken a wall to lean against because Gale Cleven wasn’t good at broaching topics despite his bravery to initiate their surroundings. Egan had a sense what this was about, but then, things usually weren’t about the thing they were about, they were about another thing reflected in the thing and that’s where he got lost. But watching Gale Cleven take in a breath five times only to exhale and chew his lip got a little tedious, even by his standards for how much he enjoyed watching his Buck at anything.

If this was about being observed last night, Egan sure as fuck wasn’t gonna take the blame for seeing shit in a packed dormitory. Or, combine, barracks, whatever. So, a sentence like -sorry I watched you get licked at like a bowl of milk last night- didn’t reflect his sentiments at all. And he’d never lied to Buck, not once, except maybe about not social engineering his way onto planes during rough missions. So instead he went with an easy going, “Must be nice to almost get everyone killed then get rewarded for it.”

Gale’s eyes sharpened instantly but the harsh retort Egan panted for didn’t come, instead something tired took over and Gale pinched his nose. “We’re all goin’ a little looney in here.”

“Are we?” Bucky hummed combatively, “How you crackin’ up these days?” it wasn't fair his Buck had all this weight on him and a fussy woman besides.

“I’m havin’ an affair with a fellow officer.” Gale recited in a devastated montone, and Egan hadn’t expected such transparency. Not in criminal language.

“Well,” he ceded, “there is that.”

“And occurrences like last night are gonna need to keep happenin.” Gale was informing him and Bucky didn’t know what to do with that, his tone was that of an officer but his soft blue eyes flicked with a plea to be understood. “To keep her -tame. Some sorta sane. She’s like you, she wasn’t meant for this place.”

“Just last week you told me nobody was.” Egan pointed out just to be contrary but he couldn’t help his grin and Buck caught sight of it before he could suppress it, knowing the banter and its innate kinship was back.

“I need you to promise me somethin’.” Gale went on, a nervous hand rubbing at the back of his neck and Bucky perked at the sight of that tick.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to promise to wait a week before you try anythin’.” Gale said, “You said I’d come up with somethin’ and I will, but I need a week Bucky. Give me that, can’t let you leave here without any direction of where to head toward. Wait on that radio, don’t you go off gettin’ yourself shot and Ida, too.”

A week in this place felt like a year, a week with an ever swelling woman felt like an eternity of valuable, crucial time. Bucky ran his bare toes over the splintering wood and tried to focus on the way the wood shards pricked at his frozen toes. “Alright.” he agreed, couldn’t help himself when Buck was looking at him like that and telling him he didn’t want him to die. “Alright.” He repeated more forcefully just to see Gale’s face clear and some old expression of peaceful relief smooth out his worry lines, not as much as Maureen’s tongue could do, Bucky wagered, but it was a little relief of his own he could give. “But you make a poor incentive for obeying you.” he pointed out cheekily, shoving off his wall to advance on Gale and shove a finger in those still full cheeks, “You gonna reward me if I disobey an’climb over on day six?”

Gale rolled his eyes, an expression all too pretty with his cheek distorted by Egan’s rough fingers, his eyes wary and loving all at once, Bucky had missed that look, it was coy as hell and one of his favorites on his friend. “Don’t count on it.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[tastygummisharks]

After a long hot day Amelia finally got to head to bed, not bothering to shower or even wipe down her sweaty body before flopping into bed, her clothing haphazardly discarded on the floor of her bedroom.

As she slept her neglected pet gummi sharks found her bra, still hot with her body heat, steaming with her musk, and dripping with sweat.

She kept the sharks in her her room and let them wander free but most of the time she simply ignored them as they fended for themselves on whatever crumbs she dropped.

The sharks climbed into the bra, attracted by the warmth and the dripping sweat, which they eagerly lapped out of the fabric, getting drunk on her addictive sweat. the seven of them climbed into the cups of the discarded bra, happily huffing her musk until they fell asleep in the lingering warmth of their owner's body.

Before long morning came and with it Amelia's alarm came and went unnoticed. late in morning she rose with a groan, she stretched and murmured to herself as she felt her sticky skin, the residue of copious sweat left to dry.

"God damn I need a shower" she said as she turned over and caught a whiff of her heavy odor.

Her relaxation was cut short as she caught sight of the time, two hours past work.

"SHIT!" she lept from bed with panicked speed.

She scrambled about the room, grabbing clothes from the floor and closet trying to find anything to wear, failing to find a fresh bra she snatched up yesterday's bra, still noticeably damp with her sweat. hopefully no one will notice.

In her rush she completely missed the sleeping sharks until she had the bra half on, arms through the straps and about to pull it tight.

"God fucking-" she sighs in exasperation, pausing for a moment before deciding she was in too much of a rush to give a shit "just try not to die."

With that she shrugged the straps on and pulled the bra tight to latch the back, the sharks immediately crushed between the soft fabric and softer skin. despite the soft plushness of her chest, it was still an unimaginably massive weight on top of the tiny sharks.

What little they could breathe was made harder by the hellish conditions they found themselves in, every breath burned with musk so thick it choked them, a furnace hot mix of stale sweat and unwashed woman.

though they all struggled to breath some had it easier than others. one lucky member was thrown on the curve of her breast just above the nipple, it could see daylight and an occasional whiff of fresh air.

some were not so lucky, slung by gravity under her breasts where the weight was greatest. they struggled to breath and were already on the verge of passing out, only catching breaths as the movements of her frantic preparations bounced her breasts off of them for a moment before slamming back down.

the majority had it even worse, as she adjusted herself she trapped them in the folds under her breasts. though the weight was less, they couldn't breathe any easier, it was the hottest of all. all while fresh sweat mixed with old stale sweat and unwashed grime forming a thick sludge that threatened to drown them.

they were the first to go, before Amelia even left her bedroom, the poor things were dead. some drown in her unwashed underboob before being melted into a goopy mess that threatened the rest and the rest simply melting in the overpowering heat of her body.

Amelia, now roughly presentable stepped out of her apartment and ran down the steps towards work.

This was the end of all but the last gummi shark precariously perched higher, as she ran down the stairs her breasts bounced, not an excessive amount to a normal person but to her captives it was like being hit by a train over and over. the first step brought the weight of her chest down and broke every single shark, the second step splattered them, the remaining flights of stairs simply smeared them into a sugary stain, barely visible in the black fabric.

Amelia could feel this happen against her skin, she was frustrated more than anything. but also more than a bit aroused by the utter destruction in her bra. Blushing deeply she finishes her walk to work, hoping that the mess of melted blue candy wasn't too visible through her blouse as she takes a seat at her desk.

she takes a quick glance around to make sure no one is near before reaching into her shirt and fishing out the last gummi shark, dangling the thing by the tail between her fingers as she examines the half melted slimy gummi.

"I gave you one instruction" she hisses angrily as she holds the tiny animate candy close to her face. "And you don't even have the decency to die with the rest, clinging to my nipple for dear life. like that'll save you."

"make yourself useful at least, you'll keep me from getting bored," she says dismissively as she reaches down to the waistband of her pants, pulling them away from her and unleashing another wave of unwashed musk. "for a few seconds at least"

with that she dropped the shark, letting it fall, bouncing against the fabric of her underwear and ricocheting against her nethers. she releases the her waistband with a sap, the fabric plastering the final shark to her lips as it experienced an entirely new kind of hell drowning in a stew of her juices, sweat, and the remains of the other sharks slowly dribbling down her belly.

Amelia slowly slid her hand between her legs under her desk and stroked herself, gently but firmly, feeling the writhing of the last drowning shark against herself for a few moments before she pressed it hard against her, maneuvering it through the fabric until it was squirming against her clit. with finality she pressed it harder, smashing it against herself until it was a sugary mess like the others, slowly mixing with her sweat on her filthy body.

With a content sigh she picks up a pen and writes a small note on her todo list

"pick up another bag of gummi sharks"

[pbandjesse]

We are at the beach!! We are getting ready for bed in our little hotel room. Which is very cute but we do wish that it had a balcony but it's mostly just for resting so it's all good. The bed is comfy. And we are ready to rest.

I slept alright last night but I still had an upset stomach when I woke up. Which made me pretty sad and worried. But I was trying very hard to remain positive.

I got the bed and took an everything shower. Washed my hair and shaved and everything. I wanted to be as clean and comfy as possible since I wasn't feeling amazing inside.

James made me an omelette before they left for work. I had woken up enough before they left to give them a hug and kiss and say goodbye. I miss them already.

I would spend some time just laying on the couch. I finished packing. I spent some time with sweetp. But at 1030 I checked the GPS and there was some traffic so I decided to leave a little earlier then I had planned so I could get to Jess by noon.

So I said good bye to the animals and headed out.

It was a rainy day and people cannot drive in the rain. There were multiple accidents that slowed everything down. But I just took my time and tried to remain positive. Even though I really was not feeling good. I would eventually give up at the podcast I was listening to and listened to to music to try and cheer myself up.

It wasn't a very pleasant drive. But it was fine. The rain never got to hard. And I got to Jess right at noon.

I was very happy to see her. She had one more meeting before she was done work for the day so I would plug my phone in and use her bathroom and chill on the couch for a half hour. It helped. I swear driving makes me feel worse. Which sucks so much.

I would move my bag and some stuff to Jess's car. And soon she was bringing out her stuff and we were getting ready to go!

We would have to make two stops. First we went to Wawa. We got a tiny lunch and drinks and chips. And once we finished there we would have to stop at the city center to pay one of Jess's utilities. That you have to pay in person which I thought was very funny.

But then we were in our way!

During the begining of our journey we kept passing places I used to go with my highschool boyfriend who sucked but I have a lot of memories, good and bad, from that town. It's funny how life brought Jess here.

The ride was nice though. Some conversation, some quiet enjoying the scenery. It was almost a two hour drive but it was really pleasant and didn't feel bad at all.

Getting to Cape May is funny because it's all forest and then it's beach! It happens all of a sudden. And it's such a nice little town. Fancy but it's all cute gingerbread houses and nice yards.

We got to our hotel at 230, a little early for check in but they didn't mind. The place is all pink which is so cute. The woman at the front desk was nice. She said it was slightly confusing to get to our room so she walked us there. And the room is tiny tiny but comfortable. I do wish that it had a balcony and maybe like a couch. But that's fine. We are only in here to rest.

We would unpack our things and pick our sides of the bed (accidently only got one!) and then we were off.

We walked to the beach which is literally across the street from the hotel. I found some mermaid pouches. The sea was all storm blown and beautiful. The seagulls were very very thick. We were both struggling to walk on the sand in our boots but we were having fun.

We would get off the beach eventually and walked to the town center.

Jess got a soft serve ice cream but I would wait for the next place and got an orange soda and vanilla float. And I asked if I could please have two gummy worms on top and honestly I was more excited for the gummy worms they were just a little stale and perfect.

We walked around and people watched. I didn't feel amazing but mentally and emotionally I was really happy and having a really nice time. We sat and just watched the world and talked. Eventually we would go check out some toys

stores and chatted with staff and Jess bought a hair clip that was shaped like a shrimp. I was having a lot of fun.

But we were both getting a little tired. We would take the scenic route back to the hotel. Checking out more of the neighborhood and houses. I liked seeing all the plants. Everything was just really pretty. We fantasized about buying a beach house together someday. And what we would theme it as. How we could have beach bikes and just enjoy the seashore together with our families. It was just a really nice thought.

When we got back to the hotel we moved the car to the front of the hotel, per the front desk instructions. And went to lay down. I was at my limit of walking for a while, Jess as well. So we would lay down and scrolled on our phones and rested in the AC for a while. The AC was very very cold after a bit though so Jess would turn it off and we would just lay in bed.

She looked up a restaurant down the street and we made 630 reservations. We thought it was going to be like a semi nice place based on the prices.

But we ended up not really liking it. Firstly it was incredibly loud. They had an older guy playing live music and it was actually really good, he was very talented, but it was so loud for how small the place was. I couldn't even hear our waiter. And while the food around us looked great we didn't really love what we got. Jess's soup was more like a butternut puree. I asked for no onions on my sandwich and it had so many onions I had to pull off. The fries were very greasy and were coated in way to much truffle oil. So eating was a bit tough, with an already fragile stomach. We would basically only eat half of our food. And I think our waiter felt bad because he took the soup off totally. He was nice though, it wasn't his fault. Just not the best place for us.

We would walk the sea wall on our way back to the hotel. I was shivering I was so cold. It was raining a little. The sky behind us was pink with storm clouds and was so beautiful. And soon we were safely back to our room.

We hung out. I took a shower. We watched TikToks. Discussed our plans for tomorrow. I am looking forward to what we plan to be a really nice day.

But now it is time to rest. I'm texting with my husband. Who has told me Crabcake escaped his tank again and was on Sweetp's pillow bed. And Ruby the Roomba a was stuck in a corner. Just came home to just all our pets in a state. Somehow Sweetp was the only one doing fine. I miss my home and all my family. But I am having a really nice time with Jess. I am very much ready to lay down now.

My stomach still hurts a little. But I will sip some water and do my best to just chill. I hope you all have a nice day tomorrow. Goodnight! Take care of yourself!

[lokisprettygirl]

The Night Sings at The Slumber Island (Loki x Female Reader)

Series Masterlist

Epilogue

Summary: After years of togetherness you both realise that maybe a little distance is what you need to fuel the fire again because no matter what happens you both will end up together at the Slumber island.

Warning : 18+ , Little smut, Mentions of past trauma, the usual you know, 3.4 k words

It's been years, years of togetherness, years of memories that you had built with Loki, years of knowing each other through thick and thin, he knew you inside out and so did you, that's why when small arguments started to occur in your relationship with him it felt foreign to both of you, this wasn't like any of you.

It also reminded you of your previous relationship and you had only spent a few years with him, with Loki it's been decades, and you had many more to come. When you both talked about eternity and promised to be with each other forever it felt dreamy, it felt bittersweet and now that you were living it, it felt overwhelming at times. Time didn't exist in your world any longer, like he said before you two won't live forever but you both still had millennia together.

The excitement that comes with a new relationship had faded with time, ofcourse, you knew that would happen but you also knew that the love you two had for each other only grew deeper, it was a part of you now, you could never imagine your life without him by your side, you were still grateful, still as blessed as you were when he decided to rescue you and took you under his protection.

As the time passed you had forgotten slowly what you have been through in life, imprints of the trauma still flashed sometimes but it has faded to the point where you couldn't even imagine that you had been through something so horrific once. You couldn't imagine surviving it all without him, it only happened because of the love he showered upon you everyday.

"Sweetheart are you listening?" You snapped out of your thoughts as you heard his voice.

"Yeah..ummm what did you say?" You stirred the pot with the spatula you were holding as you spoke to him, you were making dinner for you two.

"Natasha's funeral service tomorrow, I need to know when you will return" you looked at him as he questioned you, old age caught up to her, you had prepared for the day already, Stephen and Tony had passed away already, and now Natasha was gone too. You however, you remained the same, more or less, you looked the same and you felt the same. Every Time you went away to meet your friends Loki aged you accordingly so they wont suspect you. Natasha moved on, she found love again, you both mended your relationship but it took time. She always felt guilty that you never moved on or found love in life, unknown to her that you were living your best life with Loki.

You didn't answer him and that worried him, he could feel the hesitation, the distant behavior, he has been through this before and he knew exactly where this will lead to, but deep down in his heart he never wanted to believe that you would ever leave him for someone else, you weren't Anaya, you could never be.

In the past few decades he had come to know and understand every inch of your existence, you loved him thoroughly, not a moment went by when he didn't feel your love, even when you went to visit your friends you stayed in touch with him, you both had never been apart for more than a two days at a time. He loved you more than he could even comprehend in words, if worst comes to worse he would destroy the whole world for you, he would set it on fire just to keep you safe and happy, he would sacrifice everything if it meant that you'd be protected and that included his own happiness.

"I was thinking that after the funeral we should go on a vacation" you said to him so he smiled. A vacation together sounded nice, he remembered you suggesting that when you two got back to the island and started your life together but that also made him scared. Were things getting stale? He didn't question it, he agreed to go.

After you attended the funeral service, he took you to Paris, it was a place you always wanted to visit. Being around other people felt weird but the change was nice as well. Loki had everything you both needed, a fake identity, a fake occupation, everything that will require you two to not be suspected. After a night of drinking and dancing as you two returned to the hotel, you were giddier than usual.

"Hiiii can we get a room for two?" You winked at the man working the reception and he smiled in return, Loki noticed his gaze as you leaned over to the counter, your bosoms were squeezed together and you were too tipsy to notice it. The dress you wore flaunted your curves in an indecent manner.

As you stepped inside the room, you took your heels off and climbed onto the bed.

"Come here ..you handsome you" you giggled as you crawled on your knees to reach the edge of the bed, you put your hand out so he grabbed it, then you unbuttoned his shirt and your mouth latched onto his neck, it was nice to get away from the island for a while.

"You are inebriated" he mumbled as he pulled you away a little.

"Mmmm so?" You giggled so he smiled, your hands continued to pull his shirt off his body.

"I'm not going to fuck you like this you know that" you groaned in response, he was still bearing the guilt of the time you two had gotten mindlessly drunk and had sex on the beach, it had triggered an unwanted response because of your past. Since then he has been extremely cautious whenever you are intoxicated.

"I'm not that drunk lo, it's been years, come on we are on a vacation pleaseee" you kissed him softly so he cupped your cheeks and kissed you back "Are you upset with me?" You asked him as you unzipped your dress and he sighed.

"The night manager was trying to flirt with you" you chuckled as he said that but you could tell he didn't find it amusing.

"Soo what? You know I'm yours lo, my god please I don't wanna argue tonight..come here" you laid down on the bed and pulled him on top of you, he kissed from your jawline to your neck and then he moved lower and lower taking the straps of your dress down your body.

He didn't stop after that, he continued to love you until you were screaming his name out loud, that has to be his most favorite sound in the world, whenever you screamed his name with such desperation he was reminded and assured that you still wanted him and needed him as much as you did in the beginning.

"Are you okay?" You asked him again as you enjoyed the post orgasmic bliss, he seemed hurt and you hated it. You could always tell whenever he was feeling sad.

"I am okay..i love you princess" you smiled as he said that. That eased your nerves for the moment.

But the vacation didn't go as smoothly as you two had wanted, you kept getting into silly arguments over silly things. When you found him chatting and laughing with a stranger at the bar, you snapped, you felt hurt and you didn't know why, that led to another argument.

"You're overreacting sweetheart" he said to you and that only pissed you off further,

"Overreacting? When was the last time you had such a deep conversation about anything with me really?" You crossed your arms and he sighed but didn't say anything "I saw the way she was looking at you"

"Oh yeah? It stings right? Now you know how I feel" your eyes teared up and he immediately regretted his words, you weren't doing it on purpose and neither was he but the situation and insecurities you two felt only made it worse.

"You know what, go talk to her for all I care" now it was his turn to take the offense. He didn't want to talk to her, he only wanted things to go back to how it used to be before the senseless arguments started to occur between you two

"Yeah maybe I will, it is nice to have a decent conversation with someone who's not you"

That's when the dam broke and you started crying, you never thought you'd see this day with him, it is you and him forever right? Then why did you feel him slipping away?

He stormed out of the room because he knew if he'd stay he'd ruin this even more. When he returned you had something to say to him, that made him regret everything that has happened between you two during this vacation, he can't lose you too, he won't be able to take it.

"We should go on a break, separately, maybe the time away will be good for us" you said to him nonchalantly and his eyes welled up with tears, this is what he feared would happen.

"Princess i–" he walked towards you but you took a step back.

"I'm not trying to hurt you lo, it's just what we need" he collapsed down on his knees as you said that, he felt as if he was losing you, he felt you slipping away, as you heard the sound of his cries you immediately got closer to him and hugged him tightly. You truly didn't want to hurt him, he was your everything. You never wanted him to feel as if you were falling out of love or anything remotely close to that, it was impossible for that to happen, it wasn't going to happen, not in this lifetime. You just hoped that he felt the same for you.

"I can't…can't see you with someone else.. please don't leave me" you shook your head frantically as he said that.

"Lo…I'd..I would never do that to you, I'm yours ..I don't need other people or other men in my bed, I just need some time away, we both need it..you have to trust me" you cupped his cheeks to explain him, you couldn't even think about anyone else, you belonged to him and you'd belong to him forever.

"You're mine right?" He looked up at you, his teary eyes hurt you immensely but you knew you both needed the distance.

"I'm always yours like you are mine"

He clutched onto you and he slept that night holding you in his arms so tightly as if you'd disappear. However you didn't wake up with him, you didn't find him when you got up, he was gone and he had left you with a note.

"Come back to me whenever you are ready to see me again sweetheart, I love you and you have all of me. I would never betray you or tarnish the loyalty we share with each other but I am just afraid of losing you forever. I hope you are right about this my love, I truly hope the distance will be beneficial for us, if you ever need me I am here 💚"

You cried and cried until you couldn't cry anymore. It was hurtful to not have him around you but maybe this was what you needed to realize what you had in him, maybe the distance was what he needed to be assured that you'd never pick any other man over him, that he had your loyalty too. After bawling your eyes out to the point of dehydration you decided to live your life. It wasn't as if you were losing him, you had him, you'd always have him. Nothing would change that.

Days passed, you strolled all around Paris, you made temporary acquaintances and you had fun, so much fun but you missed him every moment.

You watched other people fighting, cheating on eachother, breaking each other's heart and that made you realize how blessed you were to have someone you could count on forever. Everytime you saw something funny you wanted to share it with him, whenever you felt hurt you wanted him to hold you, as soon as you returned to the loneliness of your room you wanted to hold him tightly and sleep in his arms.

You missed the love making, the soft whispering of his voice in your ears, you missed every little inch of him. Every morning when you woke up and didn't see his adorable little face greeting you it only got harder to stay away from him. You couldn't imagine him being sad or not taking care of himself the way you did, you worried about him all the time.

And he wasn't any different, he couldn't have gotten back to the island without you, he didn't think he'd be able to live there all alone, he didn't want to get back home without his princess, so he stayed in Paris too, far away from you where he couldn't see you, but he was there, he was all around so he could be there immediately if you needed him, he'd never allow anyone to hurt his little one.

He had several conversations with several people but they weren't you, they could never be. He missed your giggles and laughter, he missed looking at your puffy little face in the morning, he missed holding you in his arms whenever you wanted to cling to him like a child, he missed the evening tea two you shared on the porch everyday, or whenever you wanted to swim with him under the waterfall, he missed every little quirk you had.

He missed his home.

It's been days and his arms were itching to hold you, his fingers craved to touch you, his lips were starving for just a taste, his body felt as if he had been set on fire, he couldn't imagine going another day without being inside you but he had to, he'd give you all the time you needed. He'd do anything for you as long as it made you happy. He knew now that you were his and you didn't need another man, you both just needed time away once in a while to realize what you two had in each other. The distance was hard to bear but it was a necessary evil. He was comforted by the knowledge that he had you still. So he waited and waited until you were ready.

"I'm coming home lo, if I won't see you there I swear I'll kill you" he chuckled as he heard your voice in his head. Norns he had missed you.

He was excited like a kid in the candy shop as he made his way back to the island. He found you sitting at the same rock where you two had your second date so he sat down right next to you. You took a deep breath as his scent engulfed you entirely, oh you have missed him and how.

"Hii" you mumbled as you smiled at him before you looked away.

"Hello sweetheart" your face flushed, you felt as if it had been ages since you had heard his voice.

"Leaving me with a note huh? Not cool mister" you side eyed him and it made him smile. He has missed his precious girl immensely.

"You know very well how it would have gone otherwise, that was the only option don't you think?"

"Mhhmm I know.. I would have cried and yelled, then you would have hugged me, I would have kissed you and we'd end up in the bed again because there's no way I could ever watch you leave me"

"Exactly darling"

"You always know what's right for us"

"I'm the god here" you chuckled as he said that, you put your head down on his shoulder and he linked his fingers with yours, then he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Were you around me?" You asked him as you pecked his cheek.

"Noooo..that would have defeated the purpose"

"Mmmm where were you?"

"In Paris but far away from you"

"Did you mishhhh me?" You cooed in his ears so he grabbed you by your waist and pulled you on top of him. Your arms wrapped around his neck

"What do you think hmm?" His eyes teared up so you leaned into him to kiss him passionately, you couldn't have gone a second longer without kissing him.

"I couldn't sleep at night lo..I missed my pretty baby so much" you whispered against his mouth, the way you were clinging to him and the soft tender voice you used on him was enough to assure him that nothing has changed. Nothing could ever change between you two, the love you both shared was irreplaceable.

"I couldn't sleep either princess"

"But it wasn't bad, right? Because I knew I'd always have you and you'd always have me, maybe once in a while we just need the time away, did I hurt you?" Your eyes teared up as you questioned him so he shook his head.

"I was hurt because of the distance, can't imagine my life without you little one, but I understand why we needed that, the arguments were getting ridiculous" you chuckled at his words, you agreed to the ridiculousness of the arguments.

"We argued over dirty laundry ..that is not us baby"

"Definitely not us" he giggled and that warmed your heart to the fullest.

"Take me home baby, I have missed out on loving you" he stood up, still carrying you in his arms, the impeccable strength never failed to turn you on.

You moaned as he dropped you down on the bed, then you gawked shamelessly as he took his shirt off, hooking your fingers in the loop of his pants, you pulled him down on top of you. Unbuttoning his pants you took him out to stroke him with your first,

"You know what I have yearned for the most?" He whispered in your ear as his hands roamed under the dress, you bit on your lips as he ripped your panties, he brought his hands up and placed his forearms right next to your head, this was your favorite position, you loved being trapped underneath him.

"Mmmm wha—ohhh my" you gasped as you felt his hard cock inside you in one quick motion.

"Thisssss" his voice came out in a whisper, the warmth of your cunt wrapped around his cock had made him breathless.

"Mmmm typical men's behavior isn't it? Missing the sex the most" He started laughing as you said that but it died down in his throat almost immediately as you clenched your walls around him.

"How could I not miss this darling hmm?..fuckkk I love you" he spoke and his hips started to move in and out of you slowly.

"I love you baby..there's nobody like you, there never will be"

You cupped his cheeks to kiss him sloppily and he ripped your dress off slowly to expose your bare skin.

He took his own sweet time with you that night, and once he had satiated all the lust and neediness from both sides he just wanted to keep you in his arms, the last few days have been hard on him.

You were laying in his arms just talking about the different things and experiences you had in Paris, he shared his own stories too.

"Lo..Can we go again, together this time like we planned to?"

"Absolutely, maybe some other place, so much to explore out there" you hummed as he said that, but that was for later, for now you just needed him and your home.

No matter wherever you go, you knew you'd always come back to Slumber Island and you'd always come home to him.

"Goddd that old woman was right, it was a one way ticket to the Slumber island" you gasped in realization and he chuckled in response.

"The one on the ferry?" He asked you and you nodded.

"Wait, how did you know? Were you watching me?" You looked at him curiously and he smiled. His answer would have shocked you but it made complete sense, one last attempt he made to stop you from returning to the island but you didn't indulge into the conversation any further and he was grateful for that now.

"That woman was me darling"

💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

[spoiler1001]

This was written with full consent and knowledge of Ian Flynn and Kyle Grouse.

Time, like it always has, pushes forward. Things can last years or decades, but all things must come to an end. No matter how beloved they are, they will end. They will leave behind a legacy.

A podcast between friends is no different. But the camaraderie remains embedded in the very soul. That kind of spirit never truly fades, even if the mass forgets the words said.

The room was dark, smelling damp with a note of stale water hanging in the air.. The sound of dripping water echoed in the room. The muffled sounds of people on the other side of the walls were soft, and unintelligible. There was no way of knowing how many people were in the rooms, just that there was more than one. It could have been two, it could have been three. The room was claustrophobic. The walls couldn’t be seen in the dark but their presence was evident. The lack of light made the walls feel like they were pressed against the captive despite the air pressing against them. No light was visible; it was impossible to say if the captive’s eyes were open or closed. The hardwood chair pressed into the back of the captive’s legs, made worse with the harsh and rough rope digging into their skin, pulling them down into the wood. Their limbs were forced into a position that was sitting upright. A rope was wrapped against their chest, keeping them in place. Their legs were fastened to the chair, forcing their feet straight against the floor. The captive struggled against the ties bonding them to the seat. The back of the chair brushed against a sensitive spot on the back of the head. Pain shot through their senses, making white spots dance in their vision. The surrounding air tasted like rust and various of different chemicals, mixing to create a nauseating and intoxicating mixture. The captive’s head became fuzzy and light.

There was a harsh scream from the room next door, by a wet crushing sound. The resulting silence made the dripping of the water defending. The captive’s heart thudded against their temple to the rhythm of the dripping water.

A door opened. The chemical smell got stronger- flowing in from the hall outside the room. The force of it pushed air at the captive, the near miss causing the captive to flinch. The creeping groan echoed, bouncing off the walls, layering onto itself creating a rumbling roar, shaking the chair the captive was in.

The door slammed shut- the booming sound almost covering up the sharp click of a light switch turning on. The resulting blinding white flash was much more noticeable. It answered the earlier question. Their eyes were definitely open. The captive winged and blinked their eyes rapidly, adjusting to the change in lighting. The room was square, barely bigger than a cell, the door having barely hit them as the new person stood over his captive. The walls and floor were concrete, smoothed to be perfectly even. There were no cracks or windows in the room. Nothing but plain solid walls, a concrete box. Metal pipes went along the ceiling, condensation causing the water that was dripping.

The new person was big, broad-shouldered, and tall, his head barely coming below the top of the door frame. His face was hidden behind a plastic mask of a smiling bearded man. Holding the mask to the face was a string tied so tightly that it was digging into the cloth underneath and maybe even skin. Underneath the mask was a knitted ski mask; making the skin and natural hair perfectly hidden. The plastic mask’s beard was a soft brown, the grin was closed, not shiny any teeth. It would have been warm and welcoming had the hard plastic not been dripping with fresh blood. The blood evenly spread like it had been painted with a spray can before excess fluids pooled at the bottom in tiny droplets. Eye holes were carved out of the mask, too far away from the captive to discern an eye color. The mask itself seemed to be two small, the edges of the plastic were forcibly straightened out and stretched out to the points where the material was turned white. He wore a black hoodie and black jeans. The clothes were baggy, making it impossible to discern a body type. The pants dropped below the shoes hiding, causing the gray concrete floor to be painted red. Black gloves covered his hands, the texture looking like a mix of leather and nylon.

The two looked at each other for a beat, the man tilted his head to the side. Both were still, waiting.

The man gripped a rubber mallet. The wooden handle was stained red, and the wood cracked. The hammer was designed for old railway construction, leading to that red cracked handle being three feet long. The black double head of the mallet was crumbling, one face turning into rubble. White chips of something were sticking out of the soft rubber, whether it be pieces of cement or bone was something that couldn’t be discerned. The other one was carved into a point, dull and malleable.

Deep, heavy footsteps echoed from outside the room, the door creaking open.

“Oh good, we can start.” The masked man said, his voice was low, gravely. The sound rumbled the air, more vibrato and rasp than voice. It carried like the melodic sound of metal scraping along a car’s paint.

“Welcome to the Bumble compound. I am your host The Bumbleking, and joining me as always is my Bumble Cohost JCRB Crouse.”

“Hello,” a second voice made itself known. If the first man speaking demanded attention, the second one shook the whole room. It made the one with the bearded mask sound reedy.

He was slightly taller than the other man, again in black clothes and a ski mask under the mask. The mask itself was the only thing different the same plastic made the mask but this one was not stretched to the limit. The mask was almost too big. It was threaded onto the cloth underneath to hold it in place. The mask bore a toothy grin. The face on the mask was clean-shaven with ashen blond hair molded on top. Black framed glasses were painted onto the mask, his eyes just as hidden as the other man's.

“And joining us today is our lovely guest…” the man with the bearded mask continued, his voice trailing off for the captive to speak up. Both men stared down at them. Their voice faltered, barely able to summon out a strangled grasp.

“Ah well, that’s not important.” The Bumbleking said, leaning down to get closer. The air between them began to burn with the scent of mint.

“What’s gonna happen now, is we’re gonna ask some questions.” He began to laugh. It was a high, painful sound. There was a rasping tone to it- a smoker's tell. The opposite of the voice. The wheezing between breaths made the normally jovial sound all the more pronounced.

“We spend all day answering questions, usually about if we had seen any number of people.” He continued. “It’s more fun on the other side of the fence. So since we’re reasonable people we’ll tell you some ground rules. You’re gonna tell us the truth. You’re not gonna ramble. And you aren’t going to bore us. Break those rules and we have a bloody good time elsewhere.” The Bumbleking twisted the hammer in his hand. There was a small dragging sound from the splintered wood pulling on his gloves.

The captive just looked at the hosts with pale skin, and sweat clinging to them. “How will I-“

“Oh no,” the hammer slammed down with a sharp scraping sound overlapping with a soft thud. The blow made some more of the soft head of the hammer crumble away. It had landed between the bound feet of the hostage. “Try to keep from asking questions. A bit of a bonus rule.”

The captive nodded with sharp, jerky movements. Tears spilled down their face.

“Great. Now we can get started.” He laughed. “It’s only a few questions.”

A soft vocal sound filled the air, the sound was filled with fear. It was too shaky to be a straight whimper, more like an exhale.

“Alright. Well, the first question: do you know where you are?”

The captive shook their head.

“Use your words.” The cohost spoke up. “It’s not an answered question if we don’t hear you speak.”

“N-no. I don’t know where ‘here’ is! Please let me go!” The answer was pulled from them- the words forced themselves out of their mouth, pained gasps for air punctuating the end of the answer. They pulled at their bonds again, the ropes holding steady- digging into their wrists and ankles.

“Alright. Is there anyone looking for you?”

The captive swallowed. “I don’t know. No one was expecting me.”

“You should talk to people more.” The Bumbleking said easily. The tone was casual. He turned to face his cohost. The cohost perked up, his voice sounding happier.

“My turn! Final question: how do you feel about alligators?” The Cohost sounded giddy. The question hung in the air for a moment. The captive processed the question, collecting her answer.

“Well tell us, don’t be shy.” The Bumbleking spoke in a soothing voice, pulling at the captive despite everything. Their breathing slowed down.

“I respect them. Don’t want them as pets. But I don’t mess with them.” The captive answered.

“Well, why not?” The Bumbleking asked. The captive didn’t say anything. The room was quiet.

“Hehe- clever.” The Bumbleking cracked. That harsh sound was abrasive, bouncing off the walls. “That last question was going to break the rules.”

The ropes around the captive tightened for a second. They panicked. A scream built up in their throat. The ropes went slack and dropped away. The pressure against their chest was gone. The captive’s eyes darted around to see what had caused the rope to drop. The cohost had slipped away. The captive looked around, their head jerking around erratically. A gloved hand grabbed their shoulder, roughly but not enough to hurt them. They looked over their shoulder to see the grinning mask of the cohost peering down at them. “Careful now, we wouldn’t want to aggravate that nasty head wound.”

“Remember: be good to yourself and be good to others.” The Bumbleking said as the cohost pulled their captive up by the shoulder. Their limbs were wobbly and struggled to carry themself on their own. The Bumble King opened the door, letting the chemical smell back into the room. The stench made the captive’s vision blur. The two men watched as the captive hobbled out of the room.

“Don’t worry, you’ll see the exit. Be careful not to jostle the door too much,” the Bumbleking warned as the captive walked into the hallway.

The hallways were highly decorated, with animals all over the wall. There were cartoons and drawings of animals in various anthropomorphic states etched and carved into the wall. Failed brightly colored taxidermy hung on the wall, smelling of formaldehyde and dried cheap hair dye. The source of the smell. A hedgehog colored bright blue, half curled into itself, was resting right in front of the door, next to a red fox skin that had an extra tail violently stitched onto it.

The captive ignored the rest of the decorations, so many of them that barely any wall was visible between them. Doors to other rooms, some closed, some open to empty rooms, were scattered in random places in the hallway like they had to squeeze in between the wall art to exist. The captive snuck glances into the rooms. They didn't stay and gawk but one room. All of the rooms were matching, gray, and lacking any decoration, but one, close to the room the captive had been, was painted red, and a leg was sticking out from behind the door. A door behind the Captive had slammed shut, the sound booming down the hall in a wave. Not looking behind them, the captive started hobbling faster down the hall to the end. At the end of a hallway was a door, with a window. Blinding sunlight shone through the window and was rappidly approaching.

The captive threw themself at the door, slamming it open. The sun was blinding and warm. Despite a lake nearby, the outside was dry land, and dry straw grass grew in giant bunches, taller than the captive. Huge rocks were littered everywhere. Bunches of trees had grown, creating shades and hiding places as the captive stumbled into the outside. A soft buzzing sound drew the attention of the captive. They looked up to see a hive, paper and waxy, now with a dent in it, a perfect match to the door that was just open. Some very angry stinging insects were

The Captive ran towards the water, trying to escape the bees, desperately. Upon seeing the water, two bumpy logs were floating in. It was kind with blinking eyes and long toothy jaws. They ran off from the alligators, running toward the grassy bushes. Dust was kicked up as they ran, with two more alligators running out of them. They swiped at the captive. They were able to get out of range of the attacks. The Captive started sprinting past the trees, up and down hills. The pain from the stings was minor and ignorable as adrenaline took over. The effort burned in their lungs, and it led them to run full force into a chainlink fence.

“No-nonononono.” They yelled out, panic setting in

A low hissing noise made itself known. The captive looked over to see a lone gator, the beast stomping over. The captive turned to run but the animal was faster.

The Bumbleking watched from the compound, shaking his head. “I warned them…” he sighed.

“You ok for one more?” The Cohost asked. He walked towards one closed door.

“Sure. I dont see why not.” The Bumbleking sighed, opening the door and turning on the light.

The grin in the Bumbleking’s voice was audible. “Welcome to the Bumble Compound. I am your host, The Bumbleking, and joining me today is my cohost…”

The door slammed behind him.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Crosshair x Reader: Absence

(Author’s Note:  I usually steer clear of angst, but this sort of just happened.  Y’all are going to hate me after this.  Oh whaaale)

warnings: some angst, Bad Batch episode 1 spoilers.

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

   You released a sigh into the air, the sound breaking the lonely silence that had settled since you decided to lay down for a while.  You half-expected to hear some sort of response- a mumble from Tech, a laugh from Wrecker, chatter from Omega, or a sigh from Hunter- but the room fell into stillness once more.

   As you lay on your side, arms encircling a familiar pillow, you gazed at the opposing wall.  This was the first moment you had to yourself since the events that transpired on Kamino.  You’d been busy at the front of the ship assisting the others or simply surrounding yourself with them to keep certain feelings at bay.

   But just for a little while, you finally decided to let yourself have the time to process and to just feel.  Without the company of the others to keep you occupied, Crosshair’s absence was more jarring.  It wasn’t something you’d been able to ignore in the first place, of course.  Even in a room full of your squad, you found yourself searching for him or expecting him to be hovering nearby only to remember that wouldn’t be the case.

   Another sigh rose into the air, and you shifted to lay on your other side facing the wall of the bunk.  The pillow still held stale traces of his scent, and you hungrily breathed in what was left and hoped with each inhale that it wouldn’t fade.  You thought back to the last time you were near him before things went from bad to worse.

   Crosshair placed himself on the bench, rubbing his head in frustration.  You watched him with worry.  He hadn’t been himself since this Order 66 was given.  You’d seen him at odds with Hunter and growing increasingly agitated as time went by.

   Omega slid onto the bench beside him, her eyes mirroring your concern.  Although somehow, her look was more sympathetic, as if she knew what was happening to him.  She rested a hand on his shoulder and spoke quietly.  You decided to remain at a small distance for another moment before going over to talk to him.

   Moments later, a shock trooper approached the cell.  “CT-9904, you’re coming with us.”

   Your eyes widened as the cell shield went down.  Hunter quickly placed himself in front of the sharpshooter in protest.  “Oh, no, no, no,” he said, holding his hands up.  “We stay together.”

   The trooper wasted no time in hitting Hunter in the stomach with the butt of his blaster, evoking a grunt as the sergeant crumbled to his knees.

   “Hey!” you shouted, darting forward.  “Cut it out!  No one is leaving this cell alone.  If he goes,” you gestured to Crosshair.  “I go.”

   “CT-9904 was summoned, not you.  Now stand down!”  The trooper raised his blaster to strike you this time, and you readied yourself to fight back when you felt a firm hand grasp your wrist.

   You looked to see Hunter standing to his feet, giving you a warning look.  For a moment, you thought that maybe it would be better to stand down and not cause more trouble, so you relaxed your shoulders.  However, that changed the second Crosshair stood from the bench and started walking toward the troopers without so much of a glance or word to any of his comrades.

   “Wait!  No, I can’t just stand here and-” you caught Hunter off-guard and tore your arm free to hurry after Crosshair.  “What are you doing?”

   “I’ve been summoned, _________.  Good soldiers follow orders.”

   “But Cross,” you murmured, hot tears spilling down your cheeks as you reached for his gloved hand.  “I’m scared.  Don’t leave.”

   At the use of his nickname, his face changed.  The bridge of his nose scrunched slightly in confusion before his eyes softened and replaced the challenging gaze with a tender regard that he usually saved for you.  It was like whatever was clouding his mind was shaken away for a moment.

   “I don’t have much of a choice,” he told you, shooting a wary glance at the troopers that surprisingly were paused at the entrance to the cell.  Then, his expression hardened once more as he released your hand and walked into their custody.

   “No!  Crosshair, wait!  You lunged forward, but a large hand grabbed your shoulder.  “Wrecker, let me go!”

   “__________,” he said, his voice low and broken at your distress.  “It’s not gonna’ change anything.”  As Crosshair was led away, you jabbed a finger at the guards.  

   “He’s not their guinea pig!  You hear me?”

   They were out of sight, door sliding shut behind them, and you were left standing there breathing heavily.  You slammed a fist against the wall and turned to see the others watching with pained expressions.  Omega still covered her mouth with her hands in shock.

   “I’m sorry,” you told them, ducking your head.  “Sorry to make a scene.  I didn’t mean to make things worse, but...”

   “No,” Hunter said.  “I understand.  We…” he gestured to the rest of the group.  “ we understand.  We just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

   Things quieted down after that.  You placed yourself on the bench where Crosshair had previously been seated and waited.

   You rolled onto your back, staring at the top of the bunk as the memory came to a conclusion in your mind.  That was the last time you’d seen the real Crosshair.  The one that you’d seen in the hangar on Kamino was not your love.  Your teary eyes met his cold ones, and though he didn’t fire at you, you didn’t see much of a reaction in his expression.

   A knock on the door caused you to stir again.  You turned your head to call whoever was at the door inside the quarters.  The door slid open to reveal a form much shorter than you expected.  

    “_________?”

   “Omega,” you said, putting on a soft smile to let her know she was welcome.  “Do you need something?”

   She gazed at you sympathetically, returning your smile kindly.  “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

    “I’m alright,” you replied.  “I just…”

   She approached the bunk, eyeing the small signs of Crosshair all around including the pillow in your arms.  “You miss him.”

   You tucked your nose back into the pillow to breathe in his scent once more.  It was nearly gone.  Your eyes watered a little at the realization.  “Yeah, I guess I do.”

   She rested a hand on your shoulder, much like she’d done to him in the prison cell at Kamino.  “The Crosshair you know is in there somewhere.  It’s that chip.  We’re going to get him back.”

   You looked to her as her smile grew, looking less concerned and more hopeful.  It was contagious because you were starting to feel that glimmer of hope in your chest and smile in return.  “I’m sure you’re right.”

   “In the meantime, I know it’s hard.”

   You hummed in agreement, a new memory coming to mind.  Your smile turned into a chuckle, earning an intrigued look from Omega.  “I was just thinking about this one time.  Before we got together, Crosshair and I went to a market for a supply run…”

   “Oh hey, that place looks like it’s got some decent stuff,” you said.  Crosshair’s eyes followed your gesturing hand to a fruit stand, the toothpick between his lips twirling idly.  He didn’t give a verbal response, only following you as you veered off the main path to approach.  An elderly woman with a large sun hat smiled as you paused to get a good look at everything.

    “Well hello there,” she greeted you.  “Can I help you with anything?”

   “Hello!  And yes, could I get a dozen of these?”  you gestured to the baskets of fruit.  “And a dozen of those?”

   “Most certainly, dear,” she nodded.  As she bagged up the product, you turned to see Crosshair hovering less than a foot behind you.  He surveyed your surroundings with those keen eyes of his before he noticed you looking at him.

   “What?”

   “Nothing.”  You grinned.  “See anything?  Any separatist droids perhaps?”

   He plucked the toothpick from his mouth to reply.  “Very amusing, ________.  I haven’t seen anything except for some shady pirate staring at you.”

   “Really?”  your grin quickly faded into a grimace as your eyes flickered to the side.  “Where?”

   “Behind me.”  Crosshair returned the toothpick to the spot between his teeth.  “I’m blocking you from his view.”

   “Oh.”  You straightened up.  “Thanks.”

   “Here you are,” the elderly woman stated, handing you one bag of fruit and Crosshair the other. You handed her the credits. “I also just wanted to say what an adorable couple you two make!”  She plucked a single flower from a nearby bouquet and handed it to Crosshair.  “For the young lady!”

   You wanted to duck your head in embarrassment while Crosshair rolled his eyes. Still, to your surprise he didn’t even bother to correct her.  He merely accepted the flower in silence and turned to you, his hand hovering for a moment before he settled on tucking the flower behind your ear. 

   “Bye!” You waved at the lady as the two of you walked away.

    “...Later on, I caught him looking at me when I had the flower tucked behind my ear.  I knew then that he had feelings for me, just like I did for him.”

   “So he’s always been a little...difficult?” Omega ventured.

   You laughed.  “Oh yes, but it was always an act.  Sometimes, he made it easy to see past that to the big heart underneath.”  You scooted off the bunk, releasing your hold on the pillow so it fell back in its spot, and proceeded to smooth out the blanket.  “Thank you, Omega.”

   She looked confused.  “  For what?”

   “The talk.  It really helped.”

   “Oh, yeah, no problem.”  She smiled.  “I’ve come to think of the squad as family, and...I don’t like to see my family hurting.”

   “I think of this squad as family too,” you agreed.  “ And I’m glad you’re a part of it, kid.  Let’s see if Tech needs anything up front.”

   The two of you became lost in chatter as you headed for the doorway.  You paused to take one final look at the empty quarters and at Crosshair’s bunk that you’d left as neat as he had.  A genuine smile spread across your face as you turned off the light and let the door close behind you.

[joshslater]

Cross Contamination

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I'm fucking furious. To most people Jack Wilson is a hockey hotshot, but to me he is just my wife's ex that can't let go. She said they had another encounter, but wouldn't go into details, saying it wasn't just his fault. She couldn't help herself, she said. Knowing how much she loathes him I suspect she was afraid of him turning violent. He is a star athlete after all, known to have punched more than a few players on the ice.

I know he's training at the stadium right now. That's how bad it has gotten, that I even know his schedule. I'm probably speeding getting there, but nothing else is important right now. I park the car in the huge, but almost empty parking. Neverending slabs of concrete to allow for the cars of thousands of cheering fans during game day. Well, I'm certainly not a fan. Still fuming as I exit the car and heading towards the arena I see him and a few others from his team running towards the same building from across the car park. They must be out for cardio or something. I stop and shout towards them "Hey! Jack!"

I can see them slow down a little, Jack saying something to them, and then breaking apart jogging in my direction while they continue at speed towards the stadium building. I remain still, just glaring at him as he closes in on me. He slows down quite a bit away and saunters towards me, still panting. He has an aura of smug superiority. He's good looking, despite his matted, sweaty hair and week-old beard. It's not just because he's in top shape, but he has that classic athlete chin cut, and mesmerizing eyes to go with it too. He's quite a bit shorter than me, and way denser and muscled, but I would bet my weekly martial arts practice can match him if needed. "Hey, cocksucker! You managed to find your way here," he yells back at me.

"I want you to know..." "Shut up"

I don't know why, but I can't look away from his intense eyes. It's like they can see into me, see every part of me. I'm frozen in place just watching him getting closer. "I said hey cocksucker. What are you waiting for? Go ahead and suck my cock." He says this as calmly as he can, never breaking eye contact. I don't think he blinks. I don't think I blink. I slowly go down on my knees,  grabbing the hem of his sweatpants, and pull down. I still keep eye contact, so I have to feel my way for the waistband of his underwear to pull it down too. I can feel the heat radiate from his steaming body. There's a smell of sweat, not the stale, musky kind, but from someone who showers every day and uses fresh clothes for each workout. He's professional and they got staff. I can hear his heavy breath as he is still recovering from the sprint. And I can feel a rather large cock in front of me that is erect, or at least a good way there. I grab it in my hands and guide the tip to my lips and begin to lick it. It doesn't really taste of much. I open my mouth and get more and more of his compression shirt wrapped abs and pecs in my view as I stare into his deep eyes, and take his big cock deeper and deeper into my mouth.

The tip reaches some point at the back of my mouth and I start to gag, making horrendous gurgling noises. I move back from him. "All the way. I want to be balls deep down your throat, cocksucker." I do as he commands, and push it in again, further. It's somehow much easier this time and my lips are tickled by his moist bush of pubes. I then start to work it, in and out, in and out. The noise I'm making is still horrendous. A wet, sloshy sound, and I hate it. "Yeah, you like that, cocksucker. Now, faster." I grab him by the hip and increase the pace. I get lost in the actions, like nothing matters but his cock, the noise, and his eyes.

I don't know for how long I was in a trance, but I feel him tensing up, pulling me tight to him, and shooting a big load of his cum down my throat. Suddenly the gaze that had held me like a vice breaks and he looks at my face rather than into my eyes. The spell is broken. I'm kneeling in a parking lot with Jack Wilson's cock down my throat, and my nose nuzzled into his pubes. His eyes suddenly widen, and his face turns into horror, like he is looking at a monster. Everything is going like in slow motion. I begin to push him away, to get his disgusting cock out of my mouth as he shoots his second load. Somehow in shock I manage to breathe in his cum. He pulls away from me as well, and his third load ends up just next to me on the concrete. "Fuck!" he says, visibly upset. "It's still in the bloodstream. Spit it out! Spit it out!"

I'm not sure I even have any in my mouth to spit out. It just went straight into my belly and into my lungs. Lungs that are desperately trying to cough up his spunky goo in phlegm-filled, deep whoops. "Fuck!" he shouts one last time, pulls up his sweatpants, and runs towards the Stadium building with one hand holding the pants up. I'm just folded over on my knees coughing and coughing while my mind is racing to make sense of what just happened. My chest is burning and I feel nauseated. There is the salty, bitter taste of cum in my mouth and a stench of athlete sweat as I gasp for air in between the coughs. I keep coughing, but less and less of substance is coming up. I spit out specks of Jack's spunk on the concrete in front of me, and realize what she had meant when she said she couldn't help herself. Did he fuck her? After what just happened I wouldn't put anything past Jack, and there is literally nothing I wouldn't forgive her for having done. She would have been helpless to stop.

I can feel my whole body burning as I get up from the concrete. I'm very aware how my clothes rubs against my body, like my senses have just gone into overdrive. Everything, every single muscle in my body feels sore. My head is spinning. Still coughing I stagger towards my car and get in behind the wheels. As I close the door the world goes silent. I can only hear my own exhausted panting. I'm confused about what is happening and feel sick as shit, but at least the world isn't spinning anymore. Somehow I must have been poisoned. What did he mean with "in the bloodstream?"

I start the car and carefully drive from the parking lot and out in the direction of home. Perhaps I shouldn't be driving at all. Crashing while driving is worse than crashing while sitting in a parking lot, but I really don't want to have to call anyone for help. Not after what I've just been through. I so sympathize with the movie cliché of a girl sobbing in the shower. I only want to cleanse myself in any way possible. To get rid of Jack from me. Even now I can feel the smell of athletic sweat, like it was clinging on to me.

There is a big pop accompanied by one of the chest buttons on my shirt shooting off in the car. The pop isn't so much heard as felt, as a reverberation in my body like someone just punched me in the chest, with dull spikes of pain in the joints. I swerve dangerously close to the side of the road. It feels like my shoulders pops into their sockets, like my chest just suddenly expands and the rest of my body catches up. There is no mirror I can look in, but I can clearly see something is off just by looking down at my body. What little movement I can make while driving the car feels different.

There is another big shift. Knees and hip joints this time, I think. I'm a little more prepared to handle that one without swerving, but this time I'm instead missing the brake pedal like the seat is set wrong. I scoot forward on the seat and reach the pedal. Now I'm getting real nervous what is happening. I'm almost home though, but I can feel my thigh muscles involuntarily flexing, my feet are hurting, and my stomach is gurgling like bad plumbing.

Her car is not home yet, thank God. I park mine as calmly as I can, screaming inside that I need to get inside and see what the fuck is going on. As I step out of the car I get a first inkling about the enormity of the changes. I almost trip stepping out of the car, and sit down again on the edge of the seat. The fabric on the trousers are straining, and I realize that my feet are probably hurting because they have swollen up inside the shoes. I try to kick off one of the sneakers, but it's stuck enough that I have to untie them. My movements feel off. It's not that it is hard to move. The opposite in fact, but different somehow. Me feet thanks me in relief as they are freed,

With the shoes off I awkwardly make my way into the house and step into the nearest bathroom. It's me in the mirror, of course, but me 5-10 years younger. I'm touching my face in disbelief. But this isn't just me regressed a decade in time. I was way taller than this then. Curious I unbutton the remaining buttons on my shirt and throw it on the floor. The chest and abs are not me 5-10 years ago. I've never looked this buff before. For one I've never had washboard abs, and the pecs and shoulders are wide and meaty. The arms more slender, though still muscular, and the core is built more for function than aesthetics. A bit too dense for the show off V shape. Dense, with a low center of gravity.

It's the body of a hockey player.

I rip off the straining trousers and the socks. Sure enough, massive leg muscles, big thighs, big ass, big feet. Jack the fucking cheater is a fraud in all areas. Whatever the fuck he is taking must have concentrated in his balls, shot into my lungs, and from there gone straight into my bloodstream to do whatever the fuck it's done to me. And there is nothing I can do to hurt him with it. Who would believe me? This is so far from any science I've heard of.

I take a closer look in the mirror again. Perhaps it isn't all bad after all.

[thatgirlwholikestowritestories]

The Summer I Fucked Up (Ch 26)

A Conrad predominant retelling of The Summer I Turned Pretty TV show and book series.

Did you read the books and want to understand what was going on in that little noggin of his? Read my fic to find out that this man has zero thoughts

Chapter list

CONRAD

Conrad had stayed a week at the house with Adam and Jere. It was just quiet. Most of the time, Jere and his dad were at work, so Conrad just drifted from room to room with no real purpose. It was worse when they were here too. Conrad barely knew how to act around Jere now. For the most part, he’d been able to separate everything in his mind. Jere was his brother. Belly was his… whatever Belly was. Jere and Belly as a couple? That reality was thrown in to the deep, dark recesses of his mind that he would never look at unless he was forced to.

Now that’s all that he saw when he looked at Jere. He saw them at that table, in that restaurant, announcing their engagement. Worse than that, he saw Belly’s hand on the table with a small diamond that sparkled just to taunt him. He also saw himself of the side of the road retching.

One day, when it all got too much, he made the trip out to Cousins.

It was like being able to breath again.

Californian beaches were nice, but in his mind, they had nothing on Cousins. The house was still the same, with the exception of a coat of dust and stale air. Walking around, he could see where age and time had started to leave its imprint. Broken light bulbs, chipping paint, little things, big things.

He hadn’t bought a ticket to go back to California. He wouldn’t, not yet. The lab didn’t need him back for a while. He wasn’t doing a summer semester. For the first time in a while, Conrad had no plans.

Conrad felt a renewed sense of purpose. He would stay here, let Cousins bring him back to earth, and to repay it, he would fix up the house.

He went back to Boston, and got his things, and he came right back, where he belonged.

He cooked. He cleaned. He surfed. It was as glorious as Conrad had hoped. It, also, lasted a week.

When that week was over, he came home from grocery shopping and found Jere and Belly sitting on the front porch, Belly in his lap. Conrad’s stomach tightened. She stood up and waved at him.

They were up doing wedding stuff, still going ahead even though Laurel wasn’t on board yet. It was odd to him that Belly didn’t want to wait until they had her approval, but it still seemed in character for Jere. He was an all-steam-ahead kind of guy.

He cooked them dinner. He’d become so used to it since he’d been living on his own. Chicken in all shapes and form, but mostly grilled.

After giving him compliments about his cooking that made his ears turn pink, Jere announced “Belly’s gonna stay here until the wedding. Is that cool with you, Con?”

Conrad’s eyes widened.

Belly would be staying here. Until the wedding. Conrad should have known that this is where she would want to have it. Why else would they be here? He knew it was her favourite spot in the world, or at least it had been. He didn’t know what had changed in the time they’d been separated.  

“I won’t be in your way,” She assured him since he had forgotten to respond. “I’ll just be doing wedding stuff.”

Which was worse, that she was here doing wedding stuff or that she wouldn’t be in his way?

“It’s fine. I don’t care,” he said.

Belly looked down at her plate, moving the remaining food around with her fork but not taking another bite. “Thanks.”

After dinner, they invited him to go get ice cream with them but said he’d stay back and clean up. He couldn’t think of anything worse than walking with Jere and Belly as they ate ice cream and walked hand in hand. The thought made him want to throw up again.

“The cook shouldn’t have to clean up.” She tried to grab the tea towel out of his hand, but Conrad was too quick, holding it above her head. She made one failed jump to grab at it.

“I don’t mind, Belly.”

She frowned at him. She might have said more but Jere was calling her over, and they were out.

He was sitting in front of the TV when they came back. It’d be a stretch to say he was watching it. It was more like he had been zoning out in its direction. When they sat on the couch, it repelled him out of his seat. Casually.

“I’m gonna hit the sack,” he said, stretching his arms over his head.

“It’s, like, ten o’clock. Watch a movie with us,” Jeremiah said.

“Nah, I’m gonna get up early tomorrow and surf. Wanna join me?”

Jeremiah glanced at Belly before saying, “Yeah, sounds good.”

Belly pouted a little bit. “I thought we were gonna work on the guest list in the morning.”

“I’ll come back before you’re even awake. Don’t worry.” To Conrad, he said, “Knock on my door when you’re up.”

Conrad hesitated. “I don’t want to wake up Belly.”

His eyes drifted over to her. She was turning pink, not looking at him.  “I don’t mind.”

Conrad closed his bedroom door behind him and pulled out his phone, sending his friend, Danny, a message.

Would I be able to stay over at yours a couple nights?

The phone pinged back quickly. Sure, when do you want to come over?

Conrad typed out on his phone that he’d come by tomorrow after he went surfing with Jere, but his finger hesitated over the send button.

If he didn’t stay, they’d ask why. He’d come all this way. They knew he was planning to spend the rest of the summer here, but the second they say Belly was staying over he was going to run packing? He may as well just announce he was still in love with her.

He could do it, right? Just keep his distance. It was dangerous. He’d barely kept it together at Christmas. The safe option would be to go to Danny’s. Except he still couldn’t press send.

When Jere opened the door to join him for a surf that morning, Conrad noticed that Belly wasn’t in his bed. Jere started to bound down the stairs, but Conrad threw a look over his shoulder. The door to Belly’s bedroom was shut. It had been open when he’d gone to bed. Conrad didn’t smile. But he wanted to.

Out on the waves with Jere felt natural, like it was any other summer. Except when Conrad tried to suggest that maybe, just maybe, it’s not a good idea to get married since Laurel and Adam were against it, Jere blew up at him.

“Stay out of it, Conrad,” he spat.

“All right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . I’m sorry.”

“I never asked for your opinion. This is between me and Belly.”

Conrad thought about that even as Jere rode to shore and left him out there on his own. Smug piece of shit. He was marrying Conrad’s girl, and he couldn’t do anything but let it happen.

It was the first time that Conrad had felt like Jeremiah had intentionally rubbed salt in the wound.

Conrad had promised his mum on her deathbed that he’d take care of Jeremiah. Conrad moved across the country to keep that promise. He was going to let Jere marry the girl he loved to keep that promise. Conrad just wished it didn’t sting so much.

In that first week, Belly and Conrad were like repelling magnets. They were never in the same place at the same time. If Conrad was in the kitchen, Belly was in her room. If Belly was in the lounge room, Conrad was at the beach or a friend’s or working on the house. Except sometimes, when it was late and Conrad was still awake looking up at his ceiling, he’d hear a splash and smile. He'd look out his window, and Belly would be doing laps at midnight, just like she used to.

One morning, Conrad was coming home, and Belly was out on the deck.

“Hey. Where are you coming from?” She asked, taking a bite of a strawberry Pop-Tart.

“The gym,” Conrad said, walking past her. Then he stopped short. “Is that what you’re eating for breakfast?”

“Yeah, but it’s my last one. Sorry.”

Conrad would hardly call that breakfast. He cringed at the idea of having that kind of sugar this early in the morning. Unless it was the good muffins. Those were the only exception.

“I left cereal out on the counter. There’s fruit in the fruit bowl too.”

She shrugged. “I thought it was yours. I didn’t want to eat your stuff without asking.”

Impatiently, he said, “Then why didn’t you ask?”

She turned her head like a dog, not understanding his tone. “How could I ask when I’ve barely even seen you?”

They scowled at each other for about three seconds before a smile started tugging at the corners of his mouth. Giving each other a tough time was almost second nature by now. It was a comfort to fall back into again.

“Fair enough,” he said, forcing away the smile. What was he thinking? Falling into old habits is exactly the kind of thing he should avoid. He started to slide the glass door open, and then he turned and said, “Whatever I buy, you can eat.”

“Same here,” she replied.

A ghost of a smile flickered onto his face again. Goddamn it, Belly. “You can keep your Pop-Tarts and your Funyuns and your Kraft mac and cheese all to yourself.”

“Hey, I eat other stuff besides just junk,” she protested.

“Sure you do,” he said, and he went inside.

The next night he did find out she ate other stuff. He’d stayed out all day as a punishment for letting his mask falter. If you can really call surfing and hanging out with friends as a punishment. He didn’t come home until he knew she’d gone to bed.

The kitchen was clean except one plate on the counter. Spaghetti with salad. Conrad sat and ate it at the counter.

He let himself smile when he ate it, not because it was good, but because she made it for him.

Next Chapter

[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 5: Panties & Lingerie

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Fem!Reader

Words: 2,153

Warnings: nothing much, some degredation, teasing, set during quarantine/lockdown, DIY bondage, gag, implied sex, dom!gwil

A/N: The first Gwil day! 

You listened to make sure Gwil was still in the kitchen before closing your bedroom door and setting your plan in motion. After a few months of being in lockdown things had begun to grow stale. The days bled into each other and there was little variation from one to the next. It wasn’t bad really – you and Gwil were both healthy and able to work from home easily enough – it was just becoming monotonous. But you were determined that the habits you’d slipped into and the routine of your lockdown lives wouldn’t get in the way of your relationship. So you came up with an idea to surprise Gwil, just to spice things up and keep him on his toes a little.  

The first step was to dress in something you knew would turn him on, so you opted for a lingerie set he’d bought you and definitely enjoying seeing you wear- a deep purple chemise that fell around the top of your thigh, hugging you tightly, and barely concealed the matching thong. And then, because you didn’t want to make it too easy for him, you threw an oversized hoodie on top. It was one you’d stolen from Gwil the first winter you were together but he always claimed you looked better in it and never tried to take it back. Even after you moved in together it lived in your side of the wardrobe. It was baggy and cosy and almost drowned you in excess material, hanging closer to your knees than the lingerie did, which made it the perfect cover. Gwil didn’t think anything of it when he saw you. It was lockdown after all, no one to see or impress, nowhere to go, nothing to dress up for. Comfort was the name of the game. He himself had opted for tracksuit pants and a baggy shirt with a sweater over the top since it was getting to be quite chilly.  

After you were dressed, the next part of the plan was to tease him. You saw it as sort of like animals in a zoo enclosure. This was Gwil’s enrichment for the day. He’d have to figure out how little you were wearing under the hoodie and then it’d be up to him what he did with that information. But you were sure it would be fun. Which you supposed meant that teasing him was your enrichment activity, something to keep you entertained and occupied. The thought made you laugh to yourself as you settled on the couch with your laptop to check your emails. Gwil had a zoom meeting first up, taking himself off to the dining room, so your scheme would have to wait until he was done. But that just gave you more time to think through how you’d tease him. 

Roughly an hour and a half later Gwilym popped his head through the doorway. “Putting the kettle on, sweetheart, d’you want a cuppa?”  “Yes please,” you said, making a show of setting aside your laptop and arching your back as if you needed to stretch.  Gwil smiled but didn’t seem to pay any attention to how you were pushing your tits towards him.   “Should I grab out some of that biscotti I made yesterday?” you asked, relaxing into a more normal posture. The hoodie was probably too thick to properly show off your chest, even if you were pushing hardened nipples against the fabric. No wonder Gwil hadn’t seemed to notice.   “That would be lovely. It’s really good.”  You chuckled and stood to follow him to the kitchen, “I wasn’t sure it was going to work but they turned out pretty alright. Think next time I might try and do one of those chocolatey variations. Where’d you put them?”  “Pantry. Can you grab the sugar out while you’re there? The canister’s almost empty.”  “Sure thing.” You located the Tupperware box of biscotti first and then the sugar. They were on the same shelf, one higher than you usually placed things. It wasn’t that you couldn’t reach the shelf – the biscotti would be easy enough to grab down – it was that you had to stretch a little further to get things towards the back of the shelf. And at some point since you’d last filled the sugar container, the bag had been shoved behind other things. You said a silent thank you to past Gwil for putting both items that high up. “Gwil, honey!” you called out as you raised yourself onto your tiptoes and stretched your arms up.  Gwil came in just in time to see you flailing for the sugar, arms over your head, your hoodie pulled up so that more of your legs were exposed, clearly showing him that you weren’t wearing shorts.  “Can’t reach the sugar,” you chuckled, grabbing the biscotti box and sinking back down onto the soles of your feet. You turned around in time to see Gwil blinking.  His momentary stupefaction disappeared and he laughed as he reached up to retrieve the bag you’d been unable to get.  

When the tea was made you carried it and a plate of biscotti out to the lounge so you could watch mid-morning TV. Gwil settled onto the loveseat but you’d already been set up in the armchair so sank back into it. You crossed one leg over the other, uncrossed them, leant forward to pick up your teacup, crossed your legs the other way and took a sip. You suspected Gwil had noticed your odd actions when he leaned forward in your peripheral vision and didn’t sit up again.   “Oh, silly,” you said to yourself as you uncrossed your legs again, leaned forward to grab your snack, sat back and crossed your legs once more. Sensing Gwilym’s eyes on your thighs, you turned to smile at him, pleased to see his eyes dart towards the TV once he’d realised you were looking. And then, after enough time so it wouldn’t be too obvious that you wanted him to look, you uncrossed your legs again, instead drawing them both up under you.   Gwil stood up suddenly and left the room but before you could wonder about it too long you heard the toilet flush and let your attention drift back to the TV as Gwil took his seat again.   You finished your tea, noting that you felt quite warm after it. 

Around midday Gwil went in search of some food. You heard him open the fridge and then close it again. His footsteps moved away after that, down the hall and then back to the kitchen and then back out to where you were still sitting, once again on your laptop.   “Gonna have that leftover lasagne for lunch so I’ve stuck the oven on to heat up.” He said, pulling his sweater off and swinging his legs up to recline on the couch.  The oven hadn’t been on long when you noticed the heat and wondered what temperature Gwil had set it to. It probably didn’t help that your laptop had seen quite a lot of use and was feeling very hot against your legs. You shifted it around, trying to find a way to make yourself more comfortable without interfering with the hoodie.   “You right?” Gwil asked.  “Yeah, fine,”  “Must be getting a bit warm in the hoodie,”  “Not really,” you shrugged, trying not to sound too suspicious of him.  Gwil stood, “Oven’s probably warm enough now right?”  “Yeah probably.” You listened carefully as Gwil walked into the kitchen but once more his footsteps faded off up the hall. Ten seconds later and you’d already noticed the rise in temperature, and it dawned on you that perhaps the oven wasn’t the only think Gwil had been tampering with.  

You followed him quietly to the kitchen, pushing your sleeves up to your elbows as the heat got worse. He seemed surprised to see you there as he crept back into the room but you feigned ignorance, muttering something about needing a drink as you bent over the dishwasher, lowering yourself more than was strictly necessary as you pretended to search for a cup, offering him a peak at your scant underwear.  When you righted yourself Gwil was right behind you, his hands reaching for the hem of the hoodie, “Game's up sweetheart. Take the damn thing off.”  “Wondered when you’d get there,” you laughed, “Might want to turn that stove off for the moment.” You waited until he’d done so before lifting your most modest layer over your head to reveal what little you wore underneath it.  Gwil’s eyes travelled over you as he breathed in deeply through his nose, “All dressed up. What’s the occasion?”  “Just wanted to.”  “You mean you wanted to tease me.” His voice was low and soft but that just made it all the more ominous, a hint of what was in store for you. You didn’t even have a chance to answer before his fingers wrapped around your wrist and he began to lead you to the bedroom.   “In my defence, teasing you is fun.” You couldn’t help but want to taunt him further.  “I think you just like it because you know I won’t be able to resist taking it out on your cunt.”  “That’s definitely part of it.” You laughed but you were abruptly cut off as he pushed you towards the bed.  

Gwilym growled as he backed you up to the mattress and you quickly scrambled into place. His hands felt hot against you as his pushed the soft material of your lingerie up to your chest and then straddled your exposed stomach. With a sudden yank he began to pull the chemise over your head but, to your dismay, it seemed to catch partway, your arms and head still stuck in the clinging material.   “Umm, Gwil?” you asked, trying not to panic with your head still stuck inside the lingerie.  “You’re alright, sweetheart. I’m going to pull it up further in a second but I think some sort of poetic justice is in order. So reach back and grab the headboard and then I’ll readjust.”  Heart racing, you tried to blindly do what he said, grateful when he leaned over and helped position your hands so that each was wrapped around one of the slats in the headboard. You felt the material hug your arms tightly as he readjusted it so that your nose and mouth were freed. Your eyes remained blindfolded by the bottom of the dress but being able to breathe freely meant it wasn’t so panic induicing.    “There, that ought to hold you.” He shuffled back down your body until he was straddling your thighs, “I think it’s fitting to keep you stuck here enduring my cock, bound by the very thing you used to taunt me.”  The idea made you shiver but your enjoyment was helped by Gwil’s hand falling to your thong clad pussy. He dragged his fingers along your lips before finding you clit and beginning to circle it slowly.   “It’s quite rude to tease really.” he said as he pressed his fingers against you, making you gasp, “Does it make you wet sweetheart? Does it turn you on to be a dirty little slut, begging to be fucked. Because that’s what you are right now. Dressing all slutty and bending over like you were hoping I’d just fill you with cock there and then.”  You whined as his fingers became more insistent and his words got filthier, everything contributing to your growing wetness and your nearing orgasm.   “If you’re not careful I’ll have to fuck you every day until this lockdown ends. You won’t get the chance to tease me with your thongs and your stretching and whatever other slutty ideas are in your slutty head. I’ll just fuck you first and save you the trouble. Oh you like that idea huh?” he laughed in response to your moan, “Spending every day cock drunk and begging for more? Prove it. Cum for me and I might actually do it.”  His fingers were impossible to argue with and you couldn’t hold back any longer, moaning with your release.  “Good girl,” he cooed softly, “Making such a mess of your panties though. What about we take them off now and I can see just how slutty your cunt is.”  You nodded eagerly, giving him a few words of encouragement as he dragged the wet underwear down your legs.   Gwilym held the panties up to the light, twisting it to better see the slick patch you’d created, “Very good.” he said as he balled the underwear up and, grabbing your jaw, stuffed it between your lips.  You whined around the material, able to taste your own arousal which only turned you on more.  “Now keep being good for me,”  You watched as Gwil pushed his pants down and pulled his cock out, positioning it between your legs. 

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

[comfortbucky]

𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗵: 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭

gif credit: @buckysbarnes <3

summary: the reader was a pararescue along with sam and riley and was engaged to riley. what happens when she gets roped into the world of captain america? or when she meets bucky barnes? this chapter takes place during ca:ws and will closely follow the canon mcu timeline.

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

warnings: angst(?) i guess?? idk

A/N: OMGGGGGGG cannot believe chapter 1 is here but we made it folks!!! this is mainly to introduce the reader so... kind of slow but i hope y'all enjoy anyways!!! also speaking of slow...this story is literally going to be the SLOWEST OF BURNS so keep that in mind (like bucky is not in this chapter at all)

also pls give me feedback in the comments! i'm new to writing and would love to hear ur input hehe :)

if u would like to be added to the taglist, pls send me a message! :)

word count: 2k

series masterlist!

“Look who it is, the running man.” Sam looked up at Steve as he made his way to a table to organize pamphlets. Steve was about to reply when a voice shouted down the hall.

“Hey, Sam! Great session today!”

Sam and Steve turned their heads towards the voice approaching them.

“My only complaint is the snacks, you need better ones.” Y/N flashed a grin to Sam as she took a bite of a stale cookie, only to have the rest of it crumble in her hands.

“See!” Y/N said, her voice muffled as she tried to prevent crumbs from falling out of her mouth. “What good is it for me to come here only to end up with this?” She stretched her hands out to show Sam the remaining crumbs before tossing them out in a nearby trash can.

“Oh, I don’t know. The therapy? Healing?” Sam crossed his arms as Y/N let out a laugh and turned to introduce herself to the blonde man standing next to her.

“Hey- oh my god! You’re Captain America!”

Steve chuckled and extended his hand out for her to shake.

“Please, call me Steve.”

“Y/N.” Y/N shook his hand, eyes wide, and slowly turned to Sam.

“Are you friends with Captain America? When- How did I not know this?”

Sam smirked.

“I thought I was your only friend Samuel, I’m proud of you.”

Sam’s face immediately fell as Y/N and Steve shared a laugh.

“Well, I have errands to run, but it was an absolute honor to meet you Cap- Steve.” Y/N turned to smile at Steve. He returned the smile and watched as she walked away.

Y/N turned around and continued to walk backward as she yelled out to Sam.

“I’ll see you later Sam! Remember The Bachelor starts at 8 and please bring anything but those stale cookies!”

Sam and Steve chuckled as Y/N disappeared through the doors of the VA, signing off with a wave before turning the corner.

“Speaking of your session, caught the last few minutes, it’s pretty intense.” Steve leaned against the wall, as Sam started to organize the messy stack of pamphlets.

“Yeah, brother. We all got the same problems.” Sam continued to keep his eyes on the task in front of him as Steve watched.

“Guilt, regret.” Sam continued and looked up at Steve with a look in his eyes that Steve was familiar with. Loss.

“You lose someone?”

“My wingman, Riley. Flying a night mission. Standard PJ rescue op. Nothing me, him, and Y/N hadn’t done 1,000 times before. ‘Til an RPG knocked Riley’s dumbass out of the sky. Nothing we could do. It’s like we were up there just to watch.” Steve raised his eyebrows upon hearing Y/N mentioned.

“I’m sorry.”

“After that, I had a really hard time finding a reason for being over there, you know? Same thing for Y/N, maybe even worse. She was engaged to Riley, had the whole damn wedding planned out in a notebook. He was the last thing keeping her over there after everything she went through.”

Steve was taken aback to learn a little about Y/N’s backstory. He never would have suspected that a person who exuded confidence like her to have gone through such a tragedy. He could tell by the look in Sam’s eyes that there was probably more to her story, but couldn’t go further into it out of respect to her.

“But you’re happy now, back in the world? Both of you?”

Sam turned side to side to look at the empty hallway they stood in. “The number of people giving me orders is down to about zero.” He chuckled. “So, hell yeah. And I don’t want to speak for Y/N, but she’s made a lot of progress. I’m proud of her.” He paused as he looked at Steve. “Are you thinking about getting out?”

Steve stared at the ground.

“No.” He paused. “I don’t know.” He returned his eye contact with Sam. “To be honest, I don’t know what I would do with myself if I did.”

“Ultimate fighting?” Steve chuckled at Sam’s comment. “Just a great idea off the top of my head.” Sam smiled as he continued. “Seriously, you could do whatever you want to do. What makes you happy?”

Steve paused, hearing a question he hadn’t thought about in years.

“I don’t know.”

After their run, Sam and Y/N went back to Sam’s place to cool down. Sam made his way over to the fridge as Y/N unscrewed the cap of her water bottle.

“Do you want to order some pizza later? I heard about this new place near mine that we could try.” She said, before taking a sip of her water.

“We just ran 5 miles and you’re already thinking about pizza?”

“You’re not?”

Sam unscrewed the cap of his orange juice and was about to reply when there was a knocking coming from his porch door. Y/N and Sam gave each other both a puzzled look before Sam went to go see who had knocked. He opened the blinds to reveal a soot-covered Captain America and Black Widow. Sam slid the door open to greet them.

“Hey man.”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder before doing a double-take when she saw Steve Rogers, Captain America, and Black Widow. She made her way over as Steve started to explain the reason for his sudden arrival.

“I’m sorry about this. We need a place to lay low.” Steve looked at Sam and Y/N with desperation in his eyes.

“Everyone we know is trying to kill us,” Natasha said, her eyes darting between Sam and Y/N. Sam turned to look at Y/N and then back at the two Avengers out on his porch.

“Not everyone,” Sam replied back, letting Steve and Natasha follow Y/N into his home as he checked outside to make sure the pair hadn’t been followed.

As Steve and Natasha cleaned themselves up in Sam’s bathroom, Y/N and Sam started to prepare breakfast in the kitchen. Y/N stopped flipping the pancakes she had been cooking and turned to Sam.

“Do you ever miss being in the Air Force?”

Sam paused, letting his scrambled eggs simmer in the pan. He turned to face Y/N.

“Sometimes. I think the part I missed the most was being able to help people. That’s what led me to run these sessions. I’m still helping people, even if it’s in a different way.”

Y/N smiled at him before continuing to cook the pancakes in front of her. She had always seen Sam as an admirable man with a heart of gold. He cared so much for everyone around him, especially those closest to him. It was so special for her to see the relationship that had formed between him and Riley. Sam would always be looking out for Riley, from the first days of training to that last rescue op. Which is probably why he had beaten himself up so much when it went horribly wrong. But Sam, being the man he is, decided to channel his energy into helping other veterans with PTSD rather than letting his grief and regret control his life. Like Y/N had.

“You think they eat breakfast?” She shot a grin at Sam. He rolled his eyes.

“They’re people Y/N, of course, they eat breakfast.”

“They’re Avengers Sam, that’s a whole other level of being. Steve is literally a super-soldier.”

Sam paused.

“I can’t believe you’re actually making me seriously consider this.”

Sam walked over to his room to get the Avengers and Y/N overheard him talking to them.

“Y/N and I made breakfast,” he paused. “If you guys eat that… sort of thing.”

Y/N chuckled softly as Steve and Natasha took their first bites of their breakfast. Neither Steve or Natasha paid any mind, too hungry and tired to notice, as Sam shot a look at Y/N.

“So, the question is, who at S.H.I.E.L.D could launch a domestic missile strike?” Natasha said as she leaned against the kitchen table.

Sam and Y/N exchanged looks before looking back at Steve and Natasha.

It only took Steve a second to think before saying, “Pierce.”

“Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world.” Natasha made her way over to Steve, who was sitting at Sam’s desk.

“But he’s not working alone. Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star.”

Natasha turned her head to face Steve.

“So was Jasper Sitwell.”

Steve turned his head to meet Natasha’s eyes and paused. Y/N and Sam watched at the Avengers intently, despite not knowing what it was they were going on about. They made brief eye contact and Y/N saw a look in Sam’s eyes she hadn’t seen since their time in the Air Force.

“So, the real question is, how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a S.H.I.E.L.D. officer in broad daylight?”

As the words left Steve’s mouth, Sam had already put down his toast to grab a file and walk over to Steve. Y/N felt her stomach drop as she caught a glimpse of the folder in Sam’s hands. Sam gave her a reassuring look as he dropped the file onto the desk in front of Steve.

“The answer is, you don’t.”

“What’s this?” Steve gave Sam a puzzled look as he leaned forward to get a better look at the file presented to him.

“Call it a resume,” Sam stated, leaning against the kitchen table. Y/N took a spot next to Sam, turning to face him as Sam kept his gaze looking straight ahead.

“Are you sure about this?” She spoke softly, to avoid Steve and Natasha hearing her.

Sam turned to Y/N.

“I’m sure,” he returned his gaze to Steve and Natasha. “Plus, I think Riley would beat my ass if he found out I said no to helping out the Avengers.”

Y/N smiled at hearing Riley’s name. She knew Sam was right, Riley had fawned over the Avengers, especially Steve, wanting to always do good like them. He had always admired Steve’s bravery and desire to do the right thing, even if it went against what he was being told to do. The same attitude that got Riley killed.

“But I’m volunteering myself, not you.” Sam turned back to Y/N. “Only you know if you’re ready or not to get back out there. And it’s okay if you’re not.” Sam gave a comforting smile and Y/N gave one back in return.

Steve, still staring at the file in front of him, began to stand up as Natasha made her way over to the desk. She grabbed the folder off the table to examine the picture of Sam, Riley, and Y/N.

“Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you guys?” Natasha looked up from the picture and directed her attention to Sam and Y/N as they both nodded. “You didn’t say they were pararescues.” She said as she handed the picture over to Steve.

Steve looked up at Sam and Y/N after taking a quick glance at the photo. “Is this Riley?”

“Yeah,” Sam spoke softly as Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Natasha gave the picture one last look-over before glancing over at Sam and Y/N. “I heard they couldn’t bring in the choppers because of the RPGs.” Y/N frowned hearing “RPGs,” thinking back to the worst night of her life. “What’d you use? A stealth chute?”

“No,” Sam pushed himself from the kitchen table and grabbed the file from the desk in front of him. “These.” He gave the file to Steve as he retreated back to his spot next to Y/N.

Steve studied the file in his hands before looking up. “I thought you said you guys were pilots.”

Sam chucked. “I never said pilot.”

“Yeah, definitely not. I wouldn’t trust him to stick the landing” Y/N giggled as Sam playfully hit her shoulder.

“You’re never going to let me live that down are you?”

“Nope.”

Steve cleared his throat, drawing the attention of Y/N and Sam. He was still looking down at the file when he shook his head and looked up at Sam.

“I can’t ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason,” Steve shifted his gaze to Y/N. “You too, Y/N. Both of you have already sacrificed enough for the greater good.”

Sam quickly interjected. “Dude, Captain America needs my help. There’s no better reason to get back in.”

All eyes fell on Y/N to speak up. She looked to Sam and gave him a reassuring nod.

She took a deep breath and said, “Well, someone’s gotta keep an eye on Sam,” she smiled at Steve. “Besides, I’d do anything for Captain America.”

Steve smiled back and paused before saying, “Where can we get our hands on one of these things?”

Sam crossed his arms. “They’re at Fort Meade.”

“Behind three guarded gates and a 12-inch steel wall, I might add.” Y/N looked at Steve and Natasha only to find Natasha shrugging at Steve.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” Steve smiled at Sam and Y/N, thankful to have them join the team. He and Natasha walked away from the group to plan their quick detour to obtain Sam and Y/N’s gear.

Sam turned to Y/N with a worried look in his eyes. “Are you sure about this? You don’t need to throw yourself back into combat just because I am.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at his comment. “Sam, I am capable of making decisions on my own.” She looked down as she began to fidget with her fingers. “Riley was my entire world; almost felt like my only reason for living at times.” She paused before looking up to meet Sam’s eyes. “I think I lost myself in loving him somewhere along the way. But this opportunity with Steve and Natasha, it might give me a chance to find myself again.” She smiled as Sam pulled her into a hug.

“Sounds like you’re ready to start running group sessions at the VA.” Sam chuckled as he and Y/N pulled back from their hug.

“Yeah, and they’d be better than yours with the snacks alone.”

“Hey now, watch it-” Sam was interrupted by Steve and Natasha reappearing in the living room.

“You guys ready to suit up? Nat figured out a way in.”

Y/N smiled at Sam before turning back to Steve.

“What the hell are we waiting for?”

chapter 2

[desoyeonjun]

At Your Request🥀

Part 1 / Part 2(This part)

2.

San:

(12:00pm, same day)

San woke up on the couch with his back aching, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. He got up to stretch then walked to kitchen to get a bite to eat. When reached the fridge he was greeted with a note.

“Went out to take care of some business, love you -Yeong-Ja”

San sighed. “She’s still mad?” San thought to himself. He ripped the note off the fridge and threw it in the trash. San thought about the argument that had occurred a couple hours earlier. He thought about her hitting his chest, yelling at him, and crying. The thought of that made is stomach knot up into a ball, and suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore. San went to the bedroom and got changed into a green suit with white stripes. This time instead of gelling his hair, he let it fly freely but still brushed it back. He put on his watches and dress shoes and headed out the door. San didn’t know where he was going but he just needed to leave the house. The stuffy stale air was doing him no good, and the longer he stayed there the more he thought about Yeong-Ja. San started the engine to his mustang and drove off.

Y/N:

(12:30pm)

The bell rings and you pick up your bag and rush out of class, you don’t want to talk to anyone. The moment of Jay’s smile fading as he told you he was leaving after school was finished kept replaying in your mind. “Why?” you thought, “When I think everything is going good it just gets worse”. You rush down the stairs with your headphones in your ear blasting your favorite song. As you exit the building you hear someone calling you but you choose to ignore them. You begin to walk to your favorite café to get some coffee, you’re drained, not just from the day but you’re just exhausted.

A couple minutes past of walking and as you are crossing the street a mustang swings and turns the corner almost hitting you but luckily the driver hits the brakes in time. You pause in the middle of the street and look up trying to peak and see the driver is but no luck, the windows are heavily tinted. The driver honks but you are frozen, standing in the middle of the street still staring as if the tints would disappear and you would see the reckless person behind the wheel. The car clicks as the door swings open and a man steps out. He was wearing a green suit with thin white stripes, his hair brushed back, and his skin pale as if he were an idol. You stared at him as he looked angry and was swearing under his breath, you couldn’t understand some of it but you got the point, he was pissed.

“Listen, I’m sorry I almost hit you but please move out of the way!” he said.

You remained standing. You were speechless. “This day can’t get any worse” you thought.

San looked down and wiped his mouth. “This crazy bitch” he mumbled under his breath. He looked back up at you and suddenly you were on the verge of tears. His facial expression shifted from anger to confusion and pity. You noticed the shift and let the tears come out.

San:

San watched as the strange girl started crying in the street, her hands over her eyes as if trying to hide shame or maybe to even hide herself from being seen. “Did she hear me? Did I make her cry?” San thought. San watched as the girls sleeves to her light pink hoodie darkened as she was wiping her tears with them. Her braids falling covering her face and her legs shaking in her light blue ripped jeans.

San walked up to the girl and with a hesitant hand, and put it on her arm attempting to comfort her. “There there” he whispered to the girl. “Why don’t you come into the car and we can go and get Americanos. I’m sorry I startled you. Let me make it up to you.” he said. The girl didn’t respond. Instead San wrapped one arm around the girls waist and started leading her into the car.

“This is crazy” he thought. “Why would I let her in here. This is going to bring too much heat on me. A girl in my car? And not just a girl but a cute foreigner? If Yeong-Ja finds out about this I’m dead.” San thought to himself. San took the car out of park and went on the highway beginning driving to his favorite coffee shop out of the city.

Y/n:

“Why did I just let him take me in his car?” you think to yourself. “I don’t even know who he is, what if he kidnaps me?”. You take your hands of your eyes and stare at him as he drives. He has one hand wrapped on the steering wheel while the other is on the gear stick. He looks tense, his jawline clenched but you can’t tell it in his driving. He was driving smoothly, you could tell he knew what he was doing. He gently but sharply swerved through cars and tight spaces.

You continued to stare until the man asked, “You like what you see?”

You snap your head forward and blush. He turns for a second to look at you and licks his lips.

“Don’t worry, I have no ill intentions.” the man says, “I have a girlfriend.”

“A girlfriend?” You think to yourself. “well it makes sense that a man that looks like him is taken.”

“Sorry,” he says, “I don’t know how good you’re Korean is so i’ll speak a little slower for you.”

You stay silent keeping your head forward watching the cars in front of you.

“I hope you like coffee.” he says, “If you don’t it’s fine you can get something else, my treat as my way to apologize.”

You turn to your left completely ignoring him and looking out the window.

“You’re a stubborn one.” the man said gripping the wheel tighter. “Good thing I like stubborn people.” he continued.

The man continued to drive for a little until he received a call. He touched the screen of his car to pick up the phone call.

“Hello Wooyoung.” the man said, “Can this wait I’m handling something right now”.

“San, theres a group of people infiltrating the main warehouse” Wooyoung says through the phone.

“So his names San?” you think to yourself. You turn back to face san and see his face turning red from anger, like how he was when he first got out the car but this time angrier.

“SHIT!” San said. With one slide of his hand San smoothly turned the car and started speeding on the opposite side of the highway. You hold onto your seat belt during the turn. You didn’t know what was going on but you knew you had gotten into something you can’t get out of.

San:

San sped down the opposite side of the highway. He keeps control of the car and swerves past other vehicles. This is second hand nature to him.

“WHO THE FUCK IS AT THE WAREHOUSE RIGHT NOW!?” San said screaming at Wooyoung.

“Mingi and Kang-Dae.” Wooyoung told San, “Hurry though, they need help!” he continued.

“YEAH I’M FUCKING GOING!” San said continuing to scream. “CALL HONGJOONG AND TELL HIM TO BRING PEOPLE I CAN’T DO THIS BY MYSELF!” said San.

“Ok.” Wooyoung said and not before long he hung up.

“Damn it. Why did this have to happen when shes in the car? I’m gonna get her involved in something she shouldn’t be involved in.” San thought to himself. “What do I do?”

San continued to speed down the highway then soon exited and started driving into a small town. There weren’t many people and you could tell it was a small community of tight knit people. The houses progressively got worse the further you drove in, some even turning into just shacks of slabs of material slapped together to make a makeshift house.

San parked at a side of the road and turned to the girl. “Get out.” he said. She turned and looked at him, her facial expression blank and unreadable. San sighed and reached in his pocket pulling out 100,000 Won. “Get out and take this. Pay for your own coffee and your way back.” said San holding out the money. The girl looked at it still staring blankly. She wouldn’t budge, she would not leave the car. San got out the car, walked around, and opened her door. “Leave.” he said again, this time a little more hostile. She still doesn’t move, he stares at her intently trying to read her emotions. He noticed her doll like eyes and brown skin, her plump and supple lips. San take a step closer looking at her brown eyes.

“I’m not leaving,” she said, “take me with you.”

“Her voice— her looks…” San thought to himself. He sighed and turned away from the girl hiding his face, he was blushing. Part of San did want to take her but he knew it was too dangerous, and with time running out he had to make a decision. “I can’t do this” San thought to himself. San turned and unbuckled the girls seat belt.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” she screamed.

San picked the girl up out of her seat and placed her standing outside of the car closing the door and locking it.

“PLEASE I WANT TO GO WITH YOU!” she said to San as he was making his way around the car to the passengers side.

“You don’t even know where I’m going or what you’re getting into.” said San getting into the drivers seat.

Before San could close the door the girl ran around the car and grabbed it.

“I want to go where you are going. Thats all I know.” the girl said making eye contact with San.

San had never felt this way before. He felt his heart racing and his mind going a hundred miles per hour each time he even looked at this girl. In all his 4 years of being together with Yeong-Ja, San had never experienced such an overwhelming emotion.

San has stepped out the car and walked in front of the strange girl. With each step he got closer and closer until he could feel her breath on his chest. he looked down at her, making eye contact drowning everything out and forgetting about the urgent matter at hand. All he could see was that girl. All he wanted… was the girl.

“I don’t know who you are,” San said, “but I need to know. Get in the car and try not to get killed.”

[acourtofsnakes]

Haran - Rogue, Chapter 8 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: The Mandalorian tries to get back on with his normal routine without you. So he decided to go visit Peli on the quiet, almost deserted planet of Tatooine. Where he will meet no one of interest or danger. At all. 

Warnings: Hmm, not many. Some light swearing and mentions of death briefly. 

Word count: Around 7139

AN: I’m not sure if everything I wrote about Tatooine is strictly ‘correct’, so forgive me if not!

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist:  @snipskixandbeskar   @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss​ @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi | 8: Haran

Mando’a translation: Haran – Hell

The Mandalorian watched you walk away. 

He watched your figure retreat further and further into the distance, each step taking you closer to Nevarro, and further away from him and the kid. He watched until he could see you no more, then sighed, murmuring to Grogu and returning to the cockpit to leave. 

And it hurt. 

He knew it would, he wasn’t stupid. He just hadn’t expected it to hurt so very much. Didn’t expect that it would feel like you’d wrenched his heart from beneath his armour and took it with him. 

He hadn’t even hugged you. Touch like that was rare for Mandalorians, wasn’t considered… ‘normal.’

But when had your… friendship... ever been ‘normal’? You’d started off as hunter and prey, for Maker’s sake. He’d hunted you down and took you onto his ship with every intention of delivering you to the new Client and being on his merry way. 

Only, you were different. You didn’t shy away from him. You didn’t cower or beg for your life. You were cocky, inappropriate and had a silver-tongue and knew how to use it. You got under his skin and drove him insane. 

But… he’d laughed more times with you than he had with anyone that wasn’t the kid. 

You made him feel… less alone. And he’d hoped he’d done the same for you

Then you’d saved his life. 

And he’d realised just how much he had come to adore your presence and your company. 

As cliché as it sounded, it was like having a little bit of sunlight in his ship. 

Well, no. That might not be the right analogy. You weren’t just sunlight. You weren’t just a flame; you were a blaze. 

You burned brighter than anyone he had ever met, determined not to be dragged down by your past. Your anger was a storm, ravaging everything it came near, with all the force of a tempest. He’d borne the brunt of it enough times in the few months he had been together. 

But you had a light inside you, a thirst to see the good in the world, the beauty no matter how dark it may have appeared. He admired that about you. There was a word for it in Mando’a. Shereshoy; a lust for life. 

The last argument you’d had… He knew from the moment you ran from the market, that you would lash out. He didn’t know how, but he’d seen the shift in your eyes, seen the way that fire had blazed – only to gutter out into consuming darkness. 

It had flickered as you had yelled at each other, and when he saw it go black, saw darkness cloud over and suck you into the depths, he’d dived right in after you. 

It had been instinct to run to you, catch you in his arms and let you both sink down together. Only he held you from being pulled too deep.

And you’d let him. 

The moment you’d let go and curled into his body, was the moment he felt everything change. 

It had broken a gate within him. A carefully and purposely crafted wall of adamant in his mind that held back the force of everything he shouldn’t feel. 

It was why he’d done what he did the other night. 

He’d been on the hunt, tracking the bounty. It was an easy one, so easy he didn’t even really need to think about it. Which of course, left his mind open to wandering. 

And it kept coming back to you, over and over again. 

What you were doing, if you were okay, if the ship was too hot for you and if he’d set the locks correctly. 

He always had the same thoughts whenever he left the kid, but with you there, they had eased. He’d trusted you from that first night you sung Grogu your mother’s lullaby. 

So that didn’t plague him. 

No, it was your hair that was the main subject tonight. That damn hair that he couldn’t take his eyes off of since the moment you’d let it down a couple of days ago. 

The light had caught it just right, turning it to gold and when you ran your hands through it…

He’d been struck with a craving so intense; it took his breath away. 

He yearned to move away your hands, replace them with his own. 

To shuck off his gloves and truly feel the silky texture of it, to feel anything but the worn leather interior of the material. 

He couldn’t have been more relieved when you’d landed on the desert planet. He had though that the Maker had taken pity on him, saving him before he could do something really stupid. 

The distraction had remained with him throughout his hunt, sneaking up on him whenever he should be at least trying to concentrate. 

By the time he’d caught the bounty and had begun to lug him back to the Crest, his body had begun to itch. Less of a persistent irritation and more of a yearning. At first, he’d thought it was from the heat, but when he’d climbed the ramp to the Crest, he could smell the lingering aroma of the soap you’d used in your shower. 

He’d quickly dispatched of the bounty in the carbonite chamber, eager to escape to the small storage compartment he had now taken up residence in. 

He hadn’t bothered to take back his sleeping quarters, something in him wanting to give you that small bit of comfort. Besides, he’d slept in worse places. 

He’d retreated there after a brief conversation with yourself, trying to clear his mind as he lay on the collection of blankets and sacks that he’d made up for his bed and waited for his body to relax and sleep to claim him. Eventually, it had. 

It wasn’t Grogu’s crying that awoke him that night, as it normally would. 

No, it was that damn smell. 

It had filtered through his helmet, invading his sleep and gently tugged him awake. 

He’d sat up and without a thought, followed that scent like a hound. 

It had led him to the kitchen and then…

Then he’d seen you. 

In that flimsy drape of fabric that could hardly call itself a dress. 

There was just… so much of your skin on show. So much of your smooth skin on display, lined with scars here and there but it didn’t matter to him. It told your story, your survival  

The Mandalorian’s own body had tightened, heat blazing across his skin and making his armour uncomfortable. He rarely acknowledged the heaviness of it, but standing there, looking at you, had truly made him feel the crushing weight. 

And when you’d turned, the water rolling down your neck…

The image of removing his helmet and catching that bead of water on his tongue, of trailing it up your neck and finally tasting your skin that he knew would be as sweet as your scent.. it nearly undid him. 

In fact, it did. It broke a restraint in him and set a haze in his mind that cleared only when the beeping of the autopilot had demanded his attention. 

He’d sat up in the cockpit for hours afterward, staring at his now gloved hands. 

He had touched you. He had removed his gloves in the presence of someone else, trusting in you not to turn around. He’d felt you. 

Felt that gorgeous, silky hair on his fingers. 

Felt the bumps of your spine beneath your skin. 

The noises you’d made, the sighs and the moans, they were branded into his memory, followed him when he finally went back to bed. 

They’d echoed in his ears, playing over and over until his trousers had become even more painfully tight and he was forced to fix the problem. 

The next day, the pleasure and breathless thrill of what had occurred went stale. It turned into shame, disgust at himself for treating you like that, thinking of you like that in the late hours. 

The snide voice in his head had whispered that it was time, time to invoke what he already planned when he was out on his hunt. 

And like a cowardly fool, he gave in. 

The betrayal and hurt in your eyes when he’d told you had been like a punch to his heart. 

He’d been battered in fights and that hurt less. 

Hurt less than this pain as he re-joined the atmosphere above Nevarro and moved the ship away. 

Was he making a mistake? Should he have kept you with him? OR stayed with you, even just for a little while longer? But what if someone had caught up to you or spotted you and gave you up. There would be no telling who would-

Ping!

A metallic note on the back of his helmet snapped him from his frantic thoughts, echoing in the confines of his helmet. It had come from Grogu’s direction.

He turned around, looking at what it was… and saw Grogu’s ball on the floor. 

“Hey, kid, what are you doing?”

An angry gurgle emanated from the little green creature, waving his arms in the air and his face full of disdain. 

Mando sighed, “Look, I know you’ll miss her, but we have to do this, okay?”

Grogu only waved his hands again, and suddenly the ball was flying through the air, bouncing off of his visor before rolling along the cockpit again. 

“Hey!! Now you decide to use your powers? That’s enough. This has to happen.” He pointed a finger at Grogu. 

Which just made the kid burst into tears and scream. 

Loudly. 

Mando swore under his breath, pulling him out of his crib and plonking him down on his lap. He turned back to the front of the ship, one hand holding the back of the kid’s head, the other piloting the ship, “Hey, hey… look, I’m sorry but… she had to leave. It wasn’t safe for her to stay with us..”

Grogu just wailed more, his little fists thumping into Mando’s belly. He was not happy with his father, and seemed intent on letting him know that. 

He sighed, letting Grogu pummel him. After all, his little hands barely made an impact, and it just reminded him painfully of that night in the cargo hold, where you fought him and broke down. He switched the ship to autopilot, tilting his head down to give Grogu his full attention. “Grogu.”

More wailing, the little tyke was determined not to pay attention. 

“Cmon, Grogu. Look at me.”

Grogu���s head shook rapidly from side to side, his little body shaking with sobs. 

“Not even for cookies?”

A pause. A questionable gurgle replacing the wailing. 

Mando couldn’t help the smile on his face behind the helmet, “Ah, see, I knew that would get your attention. If you look at me, I’ll let you have the pack.” It was bad parenting, not to mention bribery and he knew that. But anything to stop Grogu being upset – and to convince himself he’d done the right thing. “Just look at me, okay? And listen..”

Grogu lifted his head up, looking up at his father with glossy, tear filled eyes. 

Mando felt his heart break a little, and he gently wiped the tears from Grogu’s cheek with the back of his little finger, “I know you’re mad at me, and I completely understand why. But… there are so many people after her. After us as well.”

Grogu listened intently, little snuffly breaths rising from him now and then as a result of the previous tears. 

The Mandalorian reached across to a little box beside him, pulling out a package of the blue space cookies. He unwrapped them as he spoke, “The people that are after us all might start to work together. They might think that... if they can get to one of us, they can get all of us.” He pulled out a cookie, then held it out to the kid. “Everyone knows that I threw away the tracking fob. And that will draw more attention.”

Grogu took the cookie, biting it and his head tilted as he let his father speak, munching away. 

Mando leaned back in his seat, head still tilted down to watch, “If they find us… they find her. Any of the bounties I catch could turn, like that guy before with the tail. So.. if she goes to Nevarro… She can blend in and hide. Cara and Greef will monitor anyone coming in. They’ll keep her safe and steer away any authorities or hunters. She’ll be safer there than she will with us… and if we need to, I can draw away any hunters who think we’re all still together.”

Grogu’s ears sagged a little, a softer coo rising from him that flung a few tiny blue crumbs onto his fathers lap. 

Mando huffed a slight laugh, shaking his head a little, “Messy.” He brushed a few more crumbs from Grogu’s mouth, “Do you understand though? Why I had to do it?”

The kid nodded, though he still looked sad.

The Mandalorian held him closer, “I know, kid. I wish we didn’t have to do it either.”

~

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Just travelling to Tatooine. His ship needed repairing, and the Mandalorian hadn’t met with Peli for a long while. 

And… maybe something in him was craving the comfort of… a friend? 

Besides, the kid loved her too and he wanted to cheer him up. 

He would see if the sparse planet had any extra work for him. He doubted it, the cantinas were rarely ever half full, but it didn’t hurt to try. He needed something to keep his mind occupied and away from thinking of a particular cocky, snarky, gorgeous companion. 

When he was close, he set the ship to autopilot, the display on the panel and his internal body clock telling him it was time to sleep. 

He scooped up Grogu, who had been playing with his ball, “C’mon, kid. Time for bed. You can come with me tonight.” 

The Mandalorian made his way to the little area that had become his bedroom. He looked down at the pile of blankets on the floor, pausing. 

Maybe he should return to his bed. The floor was wreaking havoc on his already aching back, and it was cold on the floor. 

He sighed, taking way too long to think about it, before returning back up to his sleeping compartment, pressing the pad on the wall to open it. 

Fuck. 

The entire compartment smelt like you. It hit him as soon as the door slid open, wafting under his helmet and filling his head with your scent. He swallowed back a soft groan, made his body move across the room. He didn’t need this. He needed sleep. He needed to focus. 

Mando walked across the room and set Grogu laying down closest to the wall, before sliding in and manoeuvring his clunky body and armour into the bed too. 

It was stronger here, the smell of your perfume. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could imagine you were there with him. Tucked up against him, sleeping deeply and evenly. 

He sighed, pulling the blankets over Grogu’s body and then his own, images swirling through his mind, the same ones that taunted him every night when he tried to sleep. He tried not to feel them, the thoughts that relentlessly filled his mind. It had made him restless, made his inhibitions low – hence why he’d found you in the kitchen, unable to hold back on the things he wanted to do and say. 

Mando said quietly after a while, rubbing Grogu’s ears, “You really liked her, huh?”

Grogu cooed, nodding his head a little before tilting it into his father’s touch. 

Mando sighed softly, resting his head on the pillow again and closing his eyes, “Me too, kid… Me too.” He allowed himself to inhale deeply, let that scent envelope him and lull him into sleep. 

~~

“Oh, thank the Force!! You’re still alive! Come here you little womp rat!” 

Peli’s excited exclamation was broken only by Grogu’s delighted squeal as he tottered over to her, arms outstretched and making grabby hands. 

Mando smiled behind his helmet. He knew coming here was the right thing to do. Grogu adored Peli, and hopefully this would cheer him up somewhat. He looked at Peli, the raised eyebrow evident in his voice as he leant against the side of his ship, “Did you expect us not to be?” 

Peli scooped Grogu up, holding him close after inspecting his body for injuries or hurts. “Are you blind, boy? Everyone is out looking for you. They know what you did, even out here. The droids picked up chatter from the town. Word is, they increased the bounty on your head and doubled the girls.”

Mando stood up straight quickly, “They’ve doubled her bounty?! That’s… That’s ridiculous. It was already the highest I’ve seen.” 

Peli narrowed her eyes, watching his reaction. “So, it’s true then. You kept another bounty. I didn’t know Mandalorian’s liked to collect things so much.” Her voice was a little disapproving, but she motioned for Mando to follow her. “You shouldn’t be taking such stupid risks, Mando. You’ve got a child to look after. Harbouring criminals isn’t the way to do that.”

The words left his mouth like an instinct, “She’s not a criminal.” He followed her though, his boots scuffing up dust on the floor. 

Peli looked over her shoulder at him, her own eyebrows raised this time, “Oh? She’s not? So that bounty fell on her accidentally did it? Look, if we heard of her all the way out here, she must have truly done something b-“

“She is not a criminal, Peli.” He tried to rein in the steel in his voice. Peli was just looking out for Grogu, and for him. But something about her tone had struck a nerve, reminded him of the own conclusions he had jumped to, and how badly it had hurt you. 

Peli didn’t even bother to turn around as she walked into the hangar, “And how do you know that? She tell you what she’s being hunted for?” She shifted Grogu to her other arm and pointed at the droids that rolled past her on their way to the ship, “Careful with those parts.”

Mando swallowed, hesitating as he looked back at the droids and then back toward Peli, following her to her desk area. “No. She didn’t. But I just know.” He sunk into a chair, picking up something from the desk and fiddling with it. 

Peli watched the movement, assessing him and she just hummed as she sat down herself, Grogu on her lap. “Look. What you do, who you meet and decide to put in your band of rogues is none of my concern. Hell, we know nothing about each other. But you have to remember, this child is still wanted by Moff Gideon. You’re still wanted by both sides. You need to be careful.” Her voice was firm, but there was a note of softness there that you had to look to find, but it was there all the same. “I assume she’s in that ship of yours hiding? You can bring her out. I won’t bite her.”

Mando swallowed, his words becoming a little difficult and he had to pause again, “No. She’s not there. I… we parted ways.”

Peli frowned, looking down at Grogu who had turned his head to her, cooing. His ears had flopped a little again, but he didn’t contest the fact. She made a thoughtful noise again, “Parted ways?”

Mando sighed silently, wanting to take the subject away from you, the pain in his chest, “How has business been?”

She blinked, then burst out laughing, “Business? Are you actually pulling a joke on me, Mandalorian? Do you see any business here? Tatootine is just as quiet as it was the last time you were here. Why? Looking for a job?”

Mando shrugged, setting down the object he’d been playing with, “It wouldn’t hurt to get some extra credits.”

Peli tilted her head thoughtfully, “Well, I can’t promise anything. But there have been a few new stragglers coming through the town lately. Some hunters, smugglers and the like. One of them might have something you can do. I wouldn’t rely on it though.”

He nodded, grateful for the chance to go and do something. Even if it was just walking into town, being told no, and heading back again. “Great. I’ll check it out in a bit.”

She wasn’t listening. She’d already diverted all of her attention back to Grogu, cooing at him and pulling faces.  

~~

Tatooine was just as dry, dusty and barren as it was the last time the Mandalorian had set foot here. Its inhabitants were scattered throughout the towns, which were dotted few and far between, though there were a handful more inhabitants here in Mos Eisley. It ws one of the larger spaceports, so had a little more traffic. 

It was still almost deserted though. 

You didn’t often see people or creatures in the streets, as the sun beating down was too much sometimes even for those that called the desert planet home. They also seemed to know when sandstorms were coming – which were often. Maybe there was another on its way. There was a wild wind brewing, stirring the sand. 

There weren’t many out today, maybe driven inside by the relentless sun, though a cluster had gathered here, in Chalmun’s Spaceport Cantina. 

It was a roughly hewn building on the outside, the same colour as the dusty ground. It was small, but its thick walls provided a natural shade, cool and dim out of the sun.

Mando ducked under the upper threshold as he stepped inside, ignoring the glances and muttering that occurred whenever he walked into a place. Even if he hadn’t been clad in shiny – albeit rather dusty – beskar, he still would have garnered the attention, simply for being a Mandalorian. 

He was used it to by now, but it did still make him feel uncomfortable sometimes. 

He surveyed the room, then walked to the bar, which provided the main source of light in the centre of the room. The atmosphere seemed…calm, though that could change at the drop of a hat and the bar could erupt into one of it’s famous brawls. 

The last time he’d set foot in this particular cantina, he’d helped a young bounty hunter… who’d turned traitor. 

He would try to avoid that this time. He only wanted a job. No help. 

The Mandalorian tapped the bar to gain the attention of the barman, “Hey. Anyone come through here with bounty pucks?” 

The barman paid him no attention, continuing to serve the customer, a pilot by the looks of his jumpsuit. 

Mando frowned behind his helmet, “No?” He was hot, a little agitated and he missed you. So his temper wasn’t the greatest. 

The barman snapped, “No. Come back tomorrow, maybe there’ll be a line of people waiting to fall at your shiny feet.” He looked at Mando in disgust then walked to the other end of the bar to serve.

Mando sighed, counting to ten his mind. He needed a job. He would just have to keep trying. 

And so, he did. Over the next three days, he went back again and again. And every day, he would come home with nothing. 

Each night, Peli would tell him over dinner that it was because of the approaching storm. That there would be more people once it had cleared. 

The third night, the storm finally rolled in. 

Mando was already awake, the lack of distraction meaning his thoughts were spiralling again, so he was conscious when the howling wind roared to life, bringing with it waves and waves of sand. 

He spent the night watching the wind move like it was an animal, unleashed from its cage to be free. It didn’t sound angry. It sounded mournful. Like it was tearing through the town looking for something, for someone. 

Mando couldn’t help but relate. 

~ 

The storm stayed for another four days. Endless howling of the wind, the cold chill it brought of a night, so different to the scorching wind of the days. 

Luckily, it gave the Mandalorian something to do. He secured his ship when the wind had died down a little, making sure there were no gaping holes or anything that could get damaged should the wind change direction. 

As much as he didn’t like droids, he had to admit that Peli’s did a pretty good job. 

After that, she had him clearing out any of her gear and belongings that were outside. 

Which meant hauling in all the nearby boxes and making sure the droids didn’t roll out and get buffeted and dragged away by the wind. 

When that was done, he was to spend his time clearing away the dust and sand that blew in through the openings. 

Peli told him she couldn’t work in a messy environment, but the scattered parts, oily rags and various paraphernalia dotted around would have him beg to differ. 

Still, it gave him a way to keep his mind busy. 

However, the jobs and handy work he did for her didn’t stop him from watching the storm every night, or from checking Peli’s rusty but still operational tablet for updates on the atmospheric pressure. 

…

The morning of the fifth day dawned bright and scalding. 

The storm was gone, reduced to a few gusts of heavy wind here and there, but nothing like the raging force of the past four days. 

The heat was even more oppressive than usual, like the wind had sucked any minuscule ounce of coolness from the air and left it feeling like fire in the lungs. 

Peli told him he was stupid, that the town would be deserted. She was even more annoyed when he informed her that he was taking Grogu. He had been penned inside for four days and was starting to act as stir crazy as Mando felt. 

Peli yelled at him, even threatened to take apart his ship but he respectfully ignored her and made the trek anyway. Even if every step in the blazing heat made it feel like his armour was melting to his body. He’d popped Grogu into his crib, to spare him from the scorching air. 

Why did he decided to come to another desert planet?

Maybe he would go somewhere cold next. 

Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Somewhere where he could take a breath of chilled, icy air. Somewhere he could show Grogu the snow..

~“Snow and ice are stunning. They’re powerful and strong. I’ve only ever been in a proper snowfall once, and I fell in love. The way the flakes float down and.. dance even if there’s the faintest breeze. And then when they land on your skin or your eyelashes like little cold kisses… The sound it makes under your boots when you walk on a fresh fall. And it softens everything, makes it easier on your eyes to see across the landscape… it’s quiet, muffled…”~

Mando’s heart wrenched as he remembered your words, the way your face lit up and your eyes danced as you described the feeling of snow on your skin. He swallowed, shaking his head free of the memory and walking into the cantina, Grogu’s crib floating along with him. 

The barman sneered at him, “What, no questions today?” 

Mando just shook his head, ordering a bowl of cold broth for the kid and then he retreated to a table in the corner, sinking into his seat. 

Maker, he was tired. So, so tired. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper sleep and it was beginning to catch up with him now. 

The tiredness, mixed with the physical work of the past few days was getting to him. His back ached and his shoulders were constantly tense with the weight of his armour. He wasn’t a young man anymore, things had started to niggle and irritate more than usual. 

The quiet ambiance of the cantina and the soft slurps of Grogu enjoying his broth were beginning to lull the Mandalorian into sleep. His body relaxed into the hard bench seat, his eyes began to close behind the helmet, no matter how hard he fought it. 

Maybe he could just close his eyes for a moment… just to rest..

It wasn’t until Grogu’s sharp warning cry echoed through the fog in his brain, that he realised he’d actually fallen asleep. His head shot up from where it had rested on his chest, adrenaline shooting through his body so fast it made him dizzy. His hand had flown to the blaster on his hip by instinct, and he looked around rapidly for the cause of Grogu’s cry. 

And then he found it. 

Sitting opposite him and the kid, was a male figure, draped in an expensive looking black cloak that was embroidered with golden thread. The hilt of an ancient blade protruded above broad shoulders, sheathed down the figure’s spine. The cloak hid anything on the figures body, but Mando knew it was lined with weapons. 

The male figure had an elbow on the table, a long arm propped up with his hand disappearing into the darkness of his hood where he presumably had his chin resting. 

He knew that this man was a hunter. 

A predator. 

He could sense the coiled energy slumbering within the relaxed stance, just knew that the heavy material of his cloak hid an arsenal of weapons. 

That and the fact he could see the faint outline of a knife hidden within the man’s sleeve. 

The Mandalorian straightened, alertness flooding every single sense, along with the anger at his own sheer stupidity for falling asleep. He reached out, pulling Grogu off of the table and back into his crib in one fluid movement, shielding it between his body and the wall behind him. 

He might have chosen a corner table, might be backed into that corner, but at least no one could get the jump on him from behind. 

Mando had already marked the exists and potential attack points the first time he’d come here, so he didn’t need to worry about those. 

He was in the process of trying to spot any tells on his new acquaintance, when the figure laughed. 

A laugh like silk, flowing over the skin. A laugh that was designed to draw you in, to caress you and seduce you. 

The voice was the same. Low, with a rich baritone like velvet that slid over the Mandalorian’s bones, “Relax. You don’t need to go on the offence, Mandalorian. Though I know that might be hard for you.” He was grinning under that hood, and Mando could almost imagine a set of fangs to match the voice, itching to sink into flesh. 

“Don’t I?” The Mandalorian’s voice was hard, cold. He needed to get out of here… but something was making him curious about who this shadowy figure was, something niggling at the back of his mind like he knew. 

The figure shrugged, an easy gesture, “Nope. Trust me, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up from your little nap there. I could have killed you and that Peli woman during the storm and hung your skins out as wind gauges.”

He knew who Peli was? Who was he?

The Mandalorian said nothing. He supposed someone from the town could have spotted him staying at Peli’s. He’d have to leave. He didn’t want her getting hurt because of him. 

The man laughed again, set Mando’s teeth on edge, “Honestly, Mando. Are you always wound this tight? No wonder you don’t sleep.” He dropped his hand, resting both forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. They were clad in fine leather gloves, perfectly snug to his hands. “I won’t kill your little friend either, I promise. I’m here on business.” He paused, “Acceptable business, if you could call it that. Not my usual or favoured type of business, mind you.” 

Mando kept his hand on his blaster, kept his other arm held slightly out in case Grogu’s crib was on display. It was only then that he’d noticed the entire cantina had emptied out. It was just the three of them. How long was he asleep? 

“What business would that be? I don’t exactly fall into the ‘acceptable business’ category myself.”  He couldn’t keep the snideness out of his tone. 

The figure leaned into his hands, no ounce of light creeping past the hood. There was nothing there, just heavy darkness shrouding his face. “I need you to find someone for me. I’ve been tasked by someone supposedly important to bring them in, and I heard you’re almost as good as me.”

Mando had a feeling he knew where this was going. “And who am I helping you bring in? I don’t have sidekicks.”

The figure snorted, like Mando’s words amused him, “You think I’d be your sidekick? Please. You’ve been living with your head in that bucket too long. You obviously don’t know who I am.” He might have shaken his head beneath the heavy cloak, “I digress. Here is the person I want you to help me find.” He slid a puck onto the table, “I think you’ll be able to help. I’d be happy to split the reward in half with you. It would be enough for you to take your little one to one of those sanctuary planets.” 

He didn’t want to press that puck. He didn’t want to reveal what he already knew. “Sorry. I just remembered. I’m busy.” He made to rise from his chair. 

The figure didn’t even move a finger, and suddenly an iron grip wrapped itself around the Mandalorian’s throat. He choked, his hand slipping from his blaster to his neck, trying to prise away whatever was suffocating him, but it wasn’t there. Nothing was touching him. 

The man watched him, “Sit down.”

The pressure became tighter, dragged down Mando’s body and forced his legs to relax and for his body to dump back onto the bench. “Now. Activate the puck.” 

Mando shook his head, gasping for breath beneath the helmet, his lungs already fit to burst and his eyes tearing up. He had to protect you and the kid.

This man, if he was one, snarled softly, “Unless you want me to crush your windpipe and slit your baby in half, open the damn puck.”

Mando growled, clawing across the table and slamming his fingers onto the puck. 

At once, the pressure immediately vanished. The man still sounded calm, casual, “That’s a good boy.” 

The sudden rush of air was surprisingly not what had Mando gasping. It was your face, lit up in holo with the now absurdly high bounty flashing above it. 

He’d known it’d be you, but it was still like a blow to his heart. The hazy blue mirage of your face, projected into the air stared at him, cutting right through him. 

Mando shook his head again, his voice hoarse, “I don’t know where she is. I lost her. I don’t have the rights to go after again.”

The shadowy man leaned forward closer, flicking the puck “I knew you’d say that. I also knew that roughly a week ago, you dropped her off in Nevarro. I know that she’s currently staying under the protection of Marshal Cara Dune and Greef Carga.” He pressed the button to deactivate the puck. 

Ice spread through Mando’s belly. How did this freak know where you were? How did he know where you were staying? Had he been following you?

His heart started to increase rapidly in his chest, his brain scrambling for a way out of this conversation. If it were anyone else, he would have ripped them apart and left by now. 

But some primal instinct told him if he tried, he wouldn’t be the one walking away. 

The man pulled the puck toward him, slipping it deep within his cloak, “You catch on fast. You’re right. You wouldn’t be walking away. There wouldn’t even be enough of you left to paint the walls of this disgusting building. Not even with your precious baby.”

What the fuck? He just… 

A silky chuckle emanated from the hooded abyss, “Yes, yes. Don’t dwell on it, Mandalorian. There are bigger things to worry about.” He sat up straighter. “Now, I’m assuming you don’t remember what I am. So, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I have been employed by someone who is far too arrogant and overestimates both their intelligence and their influence.” He paused, “No… employed is the wrong word. That would imply that they are my boss, and that is simply beyond ridiculous.” He tapped the table, “Anyway, as I was saying. I have been paid by someone to find your little girlfriend. And I will not stop until I find her. There are no ifs, buts or maybes. I will find the girl. And it’ll be sooner rather than later.” 

Mando couldn’t breathe. There was a roaring in his ears. 

The man continued on, “My client has asked me to bring her back to them. And I am nothing if not a gentleman of my word, so I have promised that she will be taken to them. On one condition.” He reached behind him, unsheathing his sword and resting it on the table in front of him with a movement so smooth it could have been choreographed. “I will have her returned to me after they are done with her. For she belongs to me, truly. And I will do to her whatever I see fit.”

A deadly fury rose within Mando like a tidal wave at the disgusting possessiveness in this mans words, but it was diminished when he saw the blade.

As long as his arm, a metal so black it sucked the very light from the room. There patterns within the surface, liked it was folded back onto itself again and again, until it was virtually indestructible. The centre of the blade and its hilt were etched in gold with symbols that Mando didn’t know. 

But he recognised them. 

With a sudden clarity, it came rushing back to him. 

As a child, he was told bedtime stories, of a terrifying phantom of death. He rode the night sky, which answered to him. He slipped through the shadows and into people’s minds. He could kill a man from the inside out without touching him, reduce him to a screaming pit of fear, so tortured that he would tear out his own eyes. 

He left behind no trace. He killed without mercy, without remorse for he had no soul. 

There were rumours that beneath his hood, lay the head of a monster, so vile and cruel that the deepest pits of the galaxy spat him back out because they were too good for someone like him. 

There was even talk of him in Mandalorian culture. Warnings. 

This being was the one thing that a Mandalorian should never engage in. For he would make even the most skilled hunter or assassin cower. He had slaughtered in the Mandalorian wars, killed thousands on either side and then returned later to suck the souls out of the dead. 

There were multiple names for him in Mando’a, the two most prominent being Werda which meant shadows, or more commonly, Haran. Translated, it meant hell, or cosmic annihilation, as he was said to be older than time. Older than the galaxy. He was death. 

Haran chuckled softly, “Ah, I thought that might stir up some memories. I admit, I was surprised when I learned that the Mandalorian’s knew who I was, and even warned you about me. As if they believed that would save you. I thought you were all… what’s the phrase? Ori'buyce, kih'kovid. All helmet, no head."

He might throw up. Mando might throw up right here. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. A fucking myth, a legend told to Mandalorians and people across the galaxies, was sitting opposite him. 

He was real. 

He could speak Mando’a better than some of his fellow Mandalorians. 

He wanted you. 

Haran was caressing a gloved finger up and down the edge of his blade, “I am going to get her, Mandalorian. She will be mine. She has belonged to me since the moment she was born, our fates entwined like threads of time. I will have her back by my side, and I will teach her everything that she is. I will help expand her past the limits of what she can be. She will be unstoppable. Indestructible.” There was a hunger in his voice, a hunger that struck genuine fear into Mando’s heart. 

Mando croaked, the only thing he could manage, “What are you talking about?” 

Haran tiled his head again, his movements stilling, “She never told you?” That irresistible voice actually sounded surprised, then he chuckled, “Oh, that’s interesting. She’s obviously tried to forget who she truly is. No matter, I’ll show her soon enough.” He appeared to be thinking about something, then his cloaked head tilted up and Mando knew he was watching him. 

If he even had eyes under there. 

“You can go and run off to her now. But you won’t be able to save her.” Such simple words, spoken with such a casual knowledge, a man used to being right. 

The Mandalorian didn’t even think. He lurched from his seat, numbly pressing the button on his vambrace that had Grogu’s crib following him. 

He had to get back to Peli. He had to get back to the Crest. He needed to find you, needed to take you somewhere far away, somewhere where you’d be safe from this monster.

“Wait.” 

The man caught Mando’s arm as he made to go past him, gripping it with an iron strength that seemed to reverberate throughout his bones, root him to the spot. He couldn’t move. 

“I tell you what. I’m a generous man, so I’m going to give you a head start. I’ll be here for the next seven days. After that, I’ll be making my way to Nevarro. And I will lay waste to anyone that tries to stand in my way. ”

Mando couldn’t speak, his tongue had frozen to the roof of his mouth with that same phantom grip. He could only make a choked noise, a growl that sounded as threatening as he could. 

The man laughed again beneath that fucking hood, letting go of the invisible grip and sheathing his blade, “Better hurry… Lori.” 

Previous chapter| Next Chapter

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | TWO

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,495

warnings: depression, anxiety, mental illness! angst, fluff if you squint really hard

18+!!! minors stay away

Peter Parker was relentless, insufferable, and extremely annoying. It all started the morning after what you'd decided to call The Encounter, and it had been unending ever since. Nearly a week had passed since that fateful night, and you'd yet to see a day at school where Peter didn't try his hardest to get under your skin.

On Monday he sat next to you in Calculus, and no matter how blatantly you ignored him for the entire class, he continued to whisper facts about himself and stupid little jokes to you. You wished you could say you hadn't listened, but ever since that morning you'd been unable to forget that his favorite color was red, his Aunt packed him a lunch every day that he threw away because she couldn't cook, and his middle name was Benjamin. Why he thought you needed or even wanted to know such things you weren't sure, but even more befuddling was the fact that you couldn't un-learn them.

When Tuesday rolled around he stepped it up a notch, much to your dismay. He sat with you during Calculus and insisted on jogging with you during gym class, feigning that he was out of breath despite your slow pace and the fact that you were certain he could run for miles without getting winded. He told you more jokes then, too. One of which you begrudgingly found yourself exhaling a little harder over whenever it popped into your head; what did one stranger say to the other? Nothing. They didn't know each other.

Wednesday was the worst, because Peter made a scene. You came into calculus late and the teacher scolded you in front of the class, at which point you got flustered and tripped over your untied shoe laces. Your books spilled to the floor and you tumbled to your knees in front of everyone, and the whole class laughed. But Peter? Peter just had to be the hero, and your blood boiled at his actions.

He'd dramatically swept all his books off of his desk, feigning surprise at the loud clatter as if he hadn't done it intentionally. When the teacher scolded him, too, he just apologized and made a show of picking up each of his things one by one. "Why did you do that?" you'd hissed as you sat down, scowling at the brown-eyed boy who just blinked at you innocently.

"Do what?"

He'd ran with you in gym class again, and he'd even followed you to your locker afterwards. In all the years you'd known of Peter, you had never known him to be much of a talker. In fact, he seemed like a rather shy boy who didn't like to branch out much. With you, though, that was far from the case. Silence was a pipe dream with him around.

On Thursday he sat next to you in Calculus, ran with you in gym, walked you to your locker, and went so far as to sit with you at lunch. You'd put your earbuds in and blasted music as loud as you could without hurting yourself too much, but every time you looked up you could see he was still talking. Part of you wondered why he was being so relentless, but you didn't want to ask. If you asked he would think you cared, and you didn't. You didn't care at all, and the sooner he figured that out, the sooner he would leave you alone.

Or, at least you hoped so. As you walked into school on Friday morning, you groaned at the sight of Peter waiting patiently beside your locker. "What do you want, Parker?" you gritted out, glaring at him as you twisted the dial to enter your combination.

He grinned in spite of your glare, "I'm walking you to Calculus today, obviously. How was your night, (Y/N)? Do anything fun?"

"What part of I don't need friends did you not understand?" you demanded, giving him a stale look as you swung the metal door open with a clang. Peter blinked at you, clearly not used to you actually speaking back to him, and further uncomfortable with your hostility. What did he expect? Did he expect for you to suddenly be happy? To not be completely fucked up anymore just because he started talking to you?

He replaced his lazy smile and shrugged, retorting, "You know my secret and I know yours. That makes us friends."

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to shout, yell, stomp your feet, and throw a tantrum fit for a child. Friends were not something you wanted or needed, and you certainly didn't want to be friends with Peter Parker. You didn't want to be friends with someone just because they were worried you'd spill their dirty little secret, or because they pitied the girl who wanted to die.

The black hole in your chest was worse than ever that day, and it sucked away all the fight you had in you. So, with a roll of your eyes, you stuffed your earbuds in your ears and tuned him out once more. Just like he had at lunch, Peter continued to ramble even though he knew you weren't listening, and you pretended you didn't see his lips moving at the speed of light.

For once, at the very least, he at least shut up in class. You were thankful for the break from his incessant chatter, the endless monologue you couldn't escape from when you were stuck in a desk while Mr. Tinley droned on and on. Calculus was far from interesting, but you found yourself beyond relieved to finally be able to pay any sort of attention to the lesson.

Friday was steadily continuing along the same path every other day had since The Encounter. Peter thankfully parted ways with you after Calculus, but quickly rejoined you two classes later in Gym. From Gym he was glued to your side through lunch until you escaped to your Spanish class, which you thankfully didn't share with him, but the solitude was short lived. Your last class of the day was one you also shared with Peter, and prior to that day he had remained seated with his friends.

That day, though, he plopped down in the seat beside you with a cheerful smile. "Ready for our new project?" he asked, skipping the greeting he knew you wouldn't return.

"Huh?" you asked, blinking at him in bewilderment. New project? Our? What was he talking about?

Peter beamed back at you, clearly pleased that you hadn't snapped at him for once. "Our new project! Didn't you see the list on the door? We're partners." he explained, and you stiffened.

It was too big of a coincidence to truly be happenstance. All week Peter had been pestering you, perpetually following you around and talking your ear off, and now he just happened to be assigned as your partner for the final Speech project? He did something. That was the only logical conclusion.

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at him with as much intensity as you could muster. "Peter, what did you do?" you growled.

Peter's eyes widened at your tone, and he shifted in his seat nervously with a sheepish smile. "What do you mean?" he questioned coyly, and you scowled at him fiercely. "I didn't do anything, (Y/N)."

"Bullshit." you snapped, "I find it hard to believe that we just happened to be assigned partners after how obsessively you've been harassing me all week."

He gaped at you, "Harassed? What?" he stammered, "(Y/N), let's calm down--I haven't... I haven't been harassing you. I just want you to know I really do want to be your friend."

You scoffed at his excuse, "Shut up, Peter. Just leave me alone! I don't want to be your friend, okay? My lips are sealed. I won't tell anyone your secret, just leave me alone!"

With one finally glare, you lurched out of your seat and stomped to one far away from the still aghast boy. As you settled into your new seat, ignoring the strange looks from your classmates who witnessed your outburst, you wrinkled your nose and picked at your nails angrily. As much as you were angry with Peter, you were also angry with yourself.

You were angry that he'd stopped you, and you'd let him. You were angry at the world for letting your sister die. You were angry at your sister for saving you when she should have saved herself. Most of all, though, you were angry with yourself for how you were acting. Even though she wasn't there, you could almost hear your sister scolding you for how you'd treated Peter.

She always was the levelheaded, rational sister. The good sister. The better sister. She would have been ashamed of how you'd been ignoring Peter, ranting to you, "He's just trying to be there for you, idiot. Stop being such a jerk and let him help you. You need to stop being so stubborn..."

You listened eagerly to Ms. Lovell's lesson and instruction for the new project. It wasn't because you were genuinely interested, because you weren't, but it was something to distract you. It was something to drown out the voice of your sister that was echoing through your skull, rattling you to your core as you tried to keep your emotions at bay.

This was the hardest part of losing your sister. She'd been so close to you, so important to you, it was impossible to not think of her in every moment of every day. It was impossible not to think of what she'd have done, instead of what you had done. It was impossible not to think of what she'd have thought of your actions, what she'd have said to you, of what she'd have wanted you to do.

She had been your voice of reason, your confidant, your role model. She'd always been so much better than you, someone you aspired to be like, and now that she was gone the comparisons were so much heavier on your head. Why couldn't it have been you instead of her? She would never have had such a hard time like you were.

For instance, she wouldn't have been so bitter. She wouldn't have been so filled with rage, hatred, or despair. She wouldn't have blamed anyone, not even herself, and she wouldn't have hated the people who had killed you. She always did love a good superhero, and even if you'd have died at the hands of the Avengers like she had, she would have found a reason to still have faith in them. She would have forgiven them.

This project was going to be a tough one, and not just because you were going to have to work with Peter Parker. "This is going to be a persuasive speech, guys, so you're able to pick your stance freely so long as it pertains to the Avengers. For example, you could persuade us that they're bad, if that's how you feel." Ms. Lovell explained, "Just be prepared to face debate from the class. Each group has to face five full minutes of argument from the class and be able to firmly debate their stance."

A project in which you'd have to argue your stance pertaining to the superheroes that had killed your sister, and you were working with Peter-Spiderman-Parker. Great, you thought to yourself, this was going to be a nightmare. There was no way the two of you would agree on what stance to persuade; you hated superheroes, and he was one, for God's sake.

You glanced over at Peter, only to catch him already staring at you. The pair of you quickly looked away from each other, but you noticed the way his cheeks flared red in embarrassment. How long had he been watching you? Was he dreading the project now as much as you were?

He probably didn't know how you felt about the Avengers. Not many people really cared enough to read about what had happened to your sister, and you weren't exactly in the right state of mind to be out protesting the many shortcomings of the superheroes. You wondered, though, how he would react when he found out.

Lying was an option, but there was no way you'd be able to debate in favor of the Avengers without breaking. Could you debate against them without losing it either, though? You weren't entirely sure. It was a sore subject and you were certainly not looking forward to having to dedicate your time to speaking about them.

Peter lingered by his seat after class was dismissed, staring at you awkwardly as he told his friends he would catch up with them later. You could see the strange, weary looks they shot you, but you chose to ignore them. Everyone looked at you a little funny ever since the incident, and you'd long ago grown accustomed to it. This time, though, you couldn't help but think they were looking at you strangely for a reason other than your sister.

You had two options. You could suck it up and talk to Peter right then, or you could continue to ignore him until you were forced to do the project. Catching his warm brown eyes as he timidly watched you, you sighed. It was now or never; maybe if you were nicer he'd back off a little with the obsessive tendencies.

"So," you drawled, approaching him shyly, "how are we gonna do this?"

This was what she would have wanted you to do; that's what you chanted in your head as you forced yourself to at least seem somewhat approachable. "Uh, we could--we could meet up tomorrow? You could come to my apartment." he stuttered, scratching his neck awkwardly and fiddling with his backpack.

He radiated nervous energy, and the black hole inside of you consumed it greedily. You twiddled your thumbs just as nervously as you replied, "Do you, um, do you mind coming to my house instead? My parents are--they're a little weird about me going out because of... yeah."

God, his stutter was rubbing off on you, and you cringed at the way you stumbled over your words like a fool. It had been such a long time since you'd invited anyone to your house, let alone talked to anyone besides your parents and your therapist, and it was stressing you out. The exhaustion of the day was wearing you down rapidly, and having to socialize was making it worse.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course!" he spluttered, "Uh, could I get your number? So I can, like, text you when I'm coming?"

You hoped he didn't notice how much your fingers were shaking as you took his phone, struggling to type in your number as you mistyped multiple times. Once you'd saved your contact into his phone, you sent yourself a text so that you'd have his number too. You didn't exactly answer unknown numbers anymore, though if you were honest, you often didn't answer people you knew either. That was what drove your friends away.

Peter shot you a shy smile as you handed his phone back, and he asked, "Do you want to get started tonight, maybe? I could call you."

Biting your cheek, you paled. Tonight? You were exhausted, and the thought of having to talk for any longer made you nauseous. "No offense, Peter, but I... I really just need a break. This week has been a lot." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes as you stared at your feet.

"Oh, yeah, totally." he acquiesced, "I'll, uh, I'll see you tomorrow."

You didn't reply, only giving him a tight lipped smile that probably looked more like a grimace as you quickly walked away. Once you were out of his sight, your entire body drooped and the numbness steadily washed over you. It had been the longest day, and you were once again grateful for the escape from the overwhelming emotions.

Ever since she died, it was as if all your emotions were on overdrive. There were the many constant ones, like the guilt, shame, and anguish over her death. Along with those were more fleeting ones, like anger, disgust, and fear. Peter, though, he brought about a whole slew of new and equally as intense feelings that drained you.

He made you feel things like anxiety, apprehension, and hope. There was anxiety both due to his wild behavior in regards to you, but also because you feared he might tell people what he'd seen. The apprehension was due to your suspicion he was only so interested because you knew his secret, and was just as fearful that you would tell. But the hope, the stupid anticipation, was the worst.

It was the worst because a stupid part of you hoped he was genuine. You wanted him to really want to be your friend with no ulterior motives because, no matter how much you denied it, you really did need a friend. You wanted a friend. You wanted to let someone in.

You weren't buying it, though, because you were certain you couldn't handle the heartbreak of being wrong about his intentions and discovering he really did only care about his secret. You weren't going to let him hurt you, and if you had to shut yourself off from the world and hurt yourself to prevent it, then so be it. It was easier that way.

Peter Parker: hey i know you said you didn't want to start tonight but that doesn't mean we can't get to know each other

Peter Parker: so if you want, lets play 20 questions! i'll start. what's your favorite movie?

The typing cursor blinked at you tauntingly as you laid on your bed, huddled under the blankets with your thumbs hovering over the keys. That stupid part of you that wanted to make your sister proud begged you to go along with it, to let him be a friend, but you were terrified. You were terrified of the way you actually opened the text and went to reply without hesitation, something you hadn't done since before the incident. You were terrified of the way you wanted to reply, but the only thing that gave you pause was the fact that you didn't have an answer.

Movies weren't something you'd given much thought to in awhile. You knew all of your sister's favorite movies by heart, but your favorite movie? It was as if your brain opened an empty drawer. You didn't know what your favorite movie was.

You: i don't know

Peter Parker: what do you mean you don't know

Peter Parker: do you not like movies?!

You: i just don't know okay

You: i can't remember the last time i watched a movie.

That was a lie. You very well could remember the last time you'd watched a movie, and that was because it was with her. The weekend before she'd died, your sister had dragged you to the theater to watch some cheesy romance film she'd been gushing about for weeks. It was awful, but it was so utterly her that you'd weirdly enjoyed it. You enjoyed it because it made her happy.

Peter Parker: that's crazy wow

Peter Parker: no offense sorry

Peter Parker: it's your turn to ask

You: what's your favorite movie

Peter Parker: star wars but you can't ask the same question!! try again

You: fine

You: what's your favorite food?

Was talking to boys always this hard? You couldn't remember the last time you'd had to get to know someone, but you didn't think it had ever been so nerve wracking. Was something wrong with you? Was everything destined to be this hard now that she was gone?

Peter Parker: anything from Delmar's

Peter Parker: best sandwiches in Queens

Peter Parker: since you got a double and you technically didn't answer my first question, i'm asking you the same but also what's your happiest memory

Everything was always going to be hard. Reading his response, your lungs deflated in your chest and the numbness gave way to the all too familiar sensation of despair. She'd always loved Delmar's, insisting on getting the same sandwich from there every single Friday after school, and it had been your thing.

Would there ever be anything that didn't remind you of her? Remind you of the hole punched in your life where she used to be? It was hard enough dealing with the empty space in your room where her bed used to be, the empty chair at the dinner table where she'd used to sit, all the empty spaces she'd used to fill up. But the little things--the little memories of things she'd used to love--those hurt so much more.

You: i have to go

You: i forgot i'm busy tomorrow so we can't start the project

You: i'm sorry

SERIES TAG-LIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton

[shyflameweasel]

The Circus is in Town

This takes from both this and this. Read with caution as there is blood in this.

It’s been few weeks since...the Thing in the alleyway. Maybe a month if you had to guess? You still have no clue what it even was. Curiosity lays at the edges of your mind, poking and prodding to look deeper into the mystery. Shaking your head to dislodge the stray thoughts, you don’t give them a chance to take root. Since that night you haven’t gone out at much as you used to, either by day or by night. Dark places and hideaways were avoided like the plague. (Sometimes you dreamed of floating hands shooting from the darkness to drag you back towards that nightmare.)

You had security system installed. Along with carrying both a knife and taser. A firearm seemed like too much. You’d briefly considered pepper spray but you’re not sure if it would even work without-

Shuddering, that thought’s pushed away (with all the others). You so wanted to believe that it was just your imagination. But with that photo- that damnable photo that you got so close to deleting but couldn’t go through with. Bringing certainty and dread that that night was real. 

So so often you wanted to throw that phone against the wall. Or just factory reset it to stop it from feeling like a brand whenever you held it. Often why you absentmindedly grab the phone for something, you’ll see or feel the crack and everything come rushing back.

Somewhere in your mind, a little voice in your head thinks that you were blowing things out of proportion. Another told it to shut it; isn’t it better to be safe than sorry?

But today...some friends had managed to convince you to get out of your sudden self-isolation. No one knew the reason why, no one would believe you even with proof. (You struggled to believe yourself.) When they said that you’d all be going out of town for a carnival was relaxing. Distance would mean less of a chance of a second encounter and have the benefit of soothing your fraying nerves.

Everything was nice...for awhile.

You don’t fully remember how, but your group had ended up lost. The roads unfamiliar and tensions were rising. Which soon gave way to arguments.

Which lead to a crash. Then darkness.

Fortunately, by some miracle everyone made it out fine with just some scrapes and bruising when you regained consciousness. Unfortunately, the car was in no condition to drive and no one had any idea where you were. The GPS seemed unable to lock onto the location.

Something felt...off. Like it was only the slightest thing off but you didn’t know what so it gnawed at-

Someone spotted a large circus tent in the distance. A tent meant people, people meant help. The group’s spirit rose, all except yours. That feeling was still rolling in your gut. They started towards it, joking around that at least they have some entertainment while waiting for a tow. You hesitated in following, that not-quite-right feeling thick in the back of your throat. It dawned on you why you felt this way.

It was the same feeling as the alley.

You didn’t want to go but what other choice was there? A wrecked car, no other soul for seemingly miles. As much as you hated it, there really wasn’t a choice in the matter.

Checking once twice thrice for your knife taser phone you followed. As you caught up with the rest, you placed your phone where the camera could see everything and hit record.

(Your information was already saved into the phone. On the chance that it was found, someone would know what happened to you.)

That feeling grew as you got closer to the ‘circus’, if you could even call it that. From far away it seemed decent enough but once you got closer details were starting to register. For one, there was only a tent. Nothing of the bright lights or rides that would be at a carnival, even the more shoddy ones had something to bring in a crowd.

Another red flag: dead silence. Not a single person or animal in sight. Not even the sound of insects broke the blanket of noiselessness. You held some slight hope that it was due to being in the middle of a performance in the tent. But if that was the case, wouldn’t there still be cheering form the crowd? Or music playing?

The others seemed to catch on to just how wrong everything felt. Like at the drop of a pin this stalemate would shatter into hell. Hands in pockets, grasping onto your only means of defense. False security blankets against the unknown. Apprehension settled alongside that feeling. Waiting.

Once close enough to the tent you could see that it was falling apart. The material was holey, like someone gave up half-way through with trying to repair it. In its sorry state it was so dirty and faded that it was hard to make out any of the original colors. Worryingly enough there were large dark spots on the fabric. Distance was making it hard to tell what they were but their color means that it wasn’t part of the original pattern.

Someone tried to make a joke about it being too early for Halloween. No one laughed. Another suggested that everyone walked back to the car and call for help instead (where it was safer.) It was shot down by a third saying that the GPS wasn’t working and that there was no reception. That paused the argument.

No reception? As if everyone had the same idea, phones were brought out. How...how didn’t you notice that? Were you so out of it back at the car that you never checked? (One of the voices piped in that it worked before.)

Hesitantly, the option of staying in the car waiting for someone to pass. No one said anything, they didn’t have to. After the crash the car had been flipped upside down away from the road. In addition it was already late afternoon. Whatever the hell was going on here, no one wanted to be in the area after dark.

So with all other options tried and debunked, the only one remaining was going towards the tent and praying for a miracle. What felt like forever but was only a few minutes you get within a few yards of the entrance. The curtain was open. (It wasn’t before.)

(Those splotches you tried to ignore before? Its blood. A lot of blood. One the tent and the ground. Out of the corner of your eye you could see a handprint. Instead of four fingers, there were three. Leading towards the entrance, six thin gorges, almost as if- one of the voices hissed at the other to shut up.)

Don’t think about it. It’ll only make is worse. Glancing at the others told you that while they hadn’t come to the same conclusion they still didn’t trust this place in the slightest. You couldn’t see into the darkness of the tent.

“WELCOME! COME IN COME IN THE SHOW’S ABOUT TO START!” rang from the flap. You flinched as it broke through the dead silence. No one moved. Whatever microphone they were using glitched and echoed their voice. It sounded much worse the second time when it sounded far less happy and far more angry.

‘CLOWN SAID COME IN.” Someone started crying and honestly you would be lying if you didn’t feel like that too. Something told you that you wouldn’t be getting another warning. Looking over, the others seemed to realize it too.

There was no escaping whoever was in the tent. One of the others puffed up their chest in false bravado and took the first step then the second and the third into the darkness. And one by one, everyone followed.

It smelled...stale.

Like despite the amount of holes in the place the air remained stagnant. If you weren’t so worried about the voice, you’d worried about getting sick. But underneath that stagnation there was this horrible smell. You almost retched as your foot collided with something squishy that released more of that foulness. If you make it out alive you’re going straight to a doctor. (You did your best not to think about what you stepped in.)

“STOP” the voice range out. Everyone froze. “CLOWN WELCOMES NEWEST PERFORMERS FOR COMING. IT’LL BE A BLAST FOR GRUNTS OF ALL SHAPES AND SIZES.” Performers? Grunts? What does that-

A light suddenly came on. Someone screamed about eyes. But to you the world went to static. Because standing right there. Was the Thing from the alley. Or at least, it was similar. (Something in you screeched to run and unlike last time, you couldn’t.)

Standing on a raised platform, standing under the beam of spotlight was a Thing. Only this one was wearing a metal mask. (Was the red shooting up from Its head hair or was it a wig? Your shuddering mind deliriously thought.) Stumbling towards the back of the group you belatedly realize what that eyes comment was about. Dozens if not hundreds stared back at you from the darkness.

The mask’s eyes seemed to move into crescent smiles. You felt your mind trying to break itself but you just barely held yourself together. Dots flash before your eyes as breathing becomes difficult.

In a blink (was it a blink or is your mind having trouble). It’s near one of your friends. “FREAKY.” Grabbing their arm with Its hands It looks closer. When they try to jerk away It just grips tighter and they yelp in pain. The others try to push It off them but It just bats them away as easily as swatting a misbehaving pet. “HAD SOME FREAKSHOWS BUT NEVER ONE LIKE THIS.”

(There was no microphone. This violently shaking monster spoke with distortion and echo in its voice.) 

Someone asks what It is. It looks at (towards?) them still holding the arm of your now shaking friend. “CLOWN IS TRICKY!” Finally letting go of your friend (they’re brought to the center of the group, arm starting to bruise.) It-Tricky-clown flourishes its hands (floating floating floating) “WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS~” in a sing song voice.

Before anyone could say anything, could do anything. It had a gun in Its hands. (There were no pockets just dark grey gunmetal green aND WHERE DID IT COME FROM) Pointed the gun towards the group. Fired. Half threw themselves to the ground. Myself and the rest were frozen in shock. There was no bullet...just a little sign with a bang pattern.

It roared with laughter. Like it had just seen the funniest joke in the world. That next moment the room exploded into deafening laughter. The shear volume brought you back to your senses enough to clutch at your ears. Trying to block it all out.

“BRING IN THE HELLCLOWNS!” It side steps a car that half your size, you knew without a fact that it wasn’t before. Skidding around your group before coming to a stop next to the Thing.

The door ope-DEARR GOD THOSE AREN’T CLOWNS!

A scream rips itself from your throat at the sigh. From the car emerges a dozen small flaming...demon Things. They seemed to honk when they moved. One grabs your wrist and does it burn. All but one of your friends are restrained. The remaining fiery devils seem to set something up.

The Thing in charge grabs the unrestrained, dragging towards a wheel the smaller ones made. It’s hard to focus with the pain burning through your wrist. The world blurs.

Thunk thunk thunk squelch

An ear piercing scream breaks through the haze.

Your eyes refocus on the wheel. It was slowly turning. Attached to it was your friend. And to your friend was a knife to their shoulder. The clown was holding knives. (Like the wheel was a dartboard and your friend was the bullseye.)

There must have been some kind of mechanism as whenever the wheel stopped, it would suddenly spin at breakneck speed. It felt like an eternity. Every time the clown hit them, the crowd would cheer.

Luck must have been on your friend’s side. 3 more cycle and a knife caught them through the eye. They were dead. (Someone was crying out of eyesight.)

The next to go went slower. That-that monster had Its minions crush your friend into a small box in some sick parody of a contortionist. Bones cracked and the screaming turned wet. It seemed confused with arms and legs. At least until It torn them off. They bleed out in a broken mess. (More crying, the sounds of retching follows.)

The third was quick but painful. A pie. It threw a pie at their face. Their face melted off and their neck burst open. (The minions pulled the bodies into the darkness. You have an idea of what you stepped in earlier.)

Throughout this your mind is brought back from its haze of pain with each wail of agony. Slowly unraveling you grasp the edges of your mind with scrambling finger tips.

Fourth was quickest. Forced and shot out of a cannon. The minions had set up a net that glints of metal and fire in the stage light. It goes off, force launching them through the net. Confetti and viscera rain from the sky.

(Someone screams why, why are you doing this! It’s reply bleeds through the growing fog. “BORED. A LITTLE VACATION FROM MY JOB. JUST GET TO UNWIND AWAY FROM NEVDA AND HAVE SOME FUN!” What...what was going on in Nevada?)

Fifth is shot with a balloon gun before being mauled to death by balloon animals.

Your mind is slipping through your hands like water. The crowd cheers louder ever louder. (They’re all flaming clowns)

Sixth...you don’t know what happened. It was one of those strong man gigs. Swing a hammer, hit a bell. Only...they didn’t. They swung and hit the monster square in the face. Mask landing with a thud in the deathly silent tent.

You took your chance.

Wrenching your arm out of the slackened hold (a wave of agony and the smell of burnt flesh violently turns your stomach) you shoulder check the other one to grab your last remaining companion. (If the inhuman scream followed by meaty whacks is to go by)

And run.

You keep running before your fraying mind catches up to you. Nothing looks the same as when you went in. (There. Was. No. Sky. Only red, not like a sunset bu- don’t think don’t think don’tthinkdon-)

Seventh is unknown. As you run in the direction that you’re so sure that the car has to be in, you’re jerk back. You were repeating not again over and over (you never know you were mumbling). A fight breaks out, you’re on the ground with their hands around your throat. Screaming that it’s all your fault. Your mind flashes to balloons bursting like guns, flying pies and bloody confetti.

(The voices argue, one crying and pleading for this to stop. The other hissing and snarls at the attack. The edges of the world go dark.)

You hear the horns growing louder.

As quick as you can, you pull the knife from your pocket.

And stab the seventh.

Seventh falls over clutching their gut wound. You run.

You get farther this time before something tackles you to the ground. It’s back and It is enraged.

Now that the mask is off you can see Its head. Similar to the other one in most ways. The head a sickly green. An exposed brain. Sweet smelling rot that’s too much. Half Its face is ripped, exposing teeth and muscles. (It does have hair)

It was dead. But it was still moving.

You didn’t hesitate, you grabbed your taser and slammed it down onto the gray matter as hard you could. (The smell, the sound it makes will haunt you. But you can just add it to the list.)

It stopped moving and you weren’t going to miss this chance. Wooziness took control as you stood up. Only a few steps were taken before consciousness left.

You woke up.

Apparently a car had come down the road and found the wreck. Took you to the closes hospital. Of a group of 8...only 1 was found.

Honestly everything felt like a dream with the painkillers coursing through your veins. Questions were asked that couldn’t be answered. All you could tell them was that the rest were at the circus with a clown named Tricky.

And when you were finally alone...you laughed. Laughed until you cried. Laughed until you hurled. Laughed until you could barely breathe. Until you sobbed. Sobbed for your friends. Sobbed for what you all went through. Sobbed as you had your answer after a month.

As you lay there in laughter filled waves of agony, with your bandaged arm (a handprint) and the hours of video of your friends being tortured and killed you found your answer.

Whatever they were, they brought suffering and madness. Some fractured part of your mind knew that this wouldn’t be your last time seeing them.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Always Will Be - Ch 3

Pairing: Loki x TVA Agent!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ Only): Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Violence, Time Shenanigans, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Chapter Summary: Laufeyson begins to test his boundaries.

AO3

You stood in the waiting room and sipped tentatively at your hot coffee. It stung your lips and you frowned, almost a pout at the unfortunate temperature. At least it wasn’t lukewarm. The drinks at the TVA had that unfortunate effect.

Glancing down at your wristwatch, you blew on the scalding liquid and counted down the seconds.

3… 2… 1…

“—aaaah!!”

There was a crash and a thud from behind you.

You took a sip of your coffee, pleased to find it was just short of too hot to cause damage to your tongue, and turned around.

The Loki variant was just rising to his knees from where he’d fallen from the TVA portal, which had appeared and vanished 8 feet off the ground.

“There you are. Right on time.”

He dusted himself off, giving you a scowl.

“Do you have any idea what I just went through!” He gestured angrily at the ceiling. “I had to stand in an empty queue that lasted days, I went through a machine that measured every part of me—and I mean every part—and I had to read through a stack of papers and sign for every word I’ve ever spoken!”

You sipped your coffee again.

“Well?” He snapped. “Say something.”

“You weren’t gone for days,” you responded evenly. “You were gone for thirty minutes.”

He blinked rapidly, bared teeth turning into a confused frown.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I just got back from my lunch.” You gave a shrug. “I did tell you, time works differently in the TVA. Would you like to go for a walk?”

His anger was further deflated, his mouth ajar as if he didn’t know what to say.

“Coffee?” you asked, tilting your cup toward him. Laufeyson looked at it like it might be filled with poison.

“No.”

You shrugged and walked away, sliding open the door to the waiting room.

“Coming?”

You felt more than heard him join you by your side. The demigod moved like a cat. Maybe you should hook a bell around his collar.

“Where are we going?” he asked as you led him down a long, narrow hallway, the suspicion back in his voice. Did he really think you’d go through the trouble of killing him at this point?

Looking at his history, yes, there was a good chance that’s what he believed. You could count on one finger the number of people Loki had truly trusted his entire life.

“As I said, on a walk.”

“If you think for one moment that I believe we’re just going to—“

You pushed open the door at the end of the hallway, and Laufeyson stopped speaking, raising a hand to shield his eyes. The light coming through the viewports wasn’t especially bright, but it took a few seconds for one’s eyes to adjust to the grand sight of the space city.

You couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile at Laufeyson’s wide eyes and slack jaw. The view from this side of the station was especially stunning, and even though you had nothing to do with it, you were quite proud of the reaction it garnered from the variant.

“I told you, Mister Laufeyson. I don’t lie.”

You stepped forward, expecting him to follow, and he did, trailing after you as he kept his gaze on the long viewports along the corridors.

“Where are we?” he finally asked. His voice was quiet, soft, and you had to do a double take just to make sure this was the variant who had yelled at you only a half hour ago.

“Nowhere you can chart on a map or reach by starship. That tends to happen when you build between two collapsing stars.”

“The equidistant point between two gravitational singularities,” he said in that same soft voice.

It was so strange to hear him so subdued, almost reverent as he stared out the window, the faded browns and yellows and whites of the city reflecting in his eyes.

You looked away, taking another drink of your coffee. It had gone lukewarm.

You frowned.

“What?”

Laufeyson stared at you, brows furrowed. You ignored the disappointment of your stale coffee.

“Most variants don’t know what gravitational anomalies are, let alone understand how they work.”

“And how many variants have you spoken to?”

You blinked.

“That’s not important.”

The sly glint was back in his eyes, the toothy grin making a return.

“I’m the first, aren’t I?”

You ignored the unnecessary question and made a beeline for the trashcan at the far side of the room, quite far away on the other side of the open area.

Laufeyson was so close on your heels that his clothing brushed against your jacket.

“This is superb,” he said with a cheeriness that dripped insincerity at every word. “I’m on trial for crimes against the very fabric of reality, and they handed off my case to an intern. How very bureaucratic of them.”

“I’m not an intern.” You resented the accusation and your defensive denial of it. You cleared your throat and walked a little faster. “And nothing was handed to me. I asked for your case.”

“Well, that’s even worse,” he proclaimed, moving up so he was now at your side. “You honestly believe this was all your idea, but I’m sure no one else was jumping at the opportunity to represent me. You know why, don’t you? You seem like a smart woman.”

Ignoring his mockery, you made to throw in your half-empty coffee cup into the bin.

Laufeyson snatched your arm, his fingers curling around your wrist. His voice was low and menacing in your ear, so close it sent an unpleasant jolt up your spine. The sharp sense of unease grew worse when he pressed against your back.

“I’m too dangerous. Too unpredictable to be controlled.” His words were a soft murmur, but razors at the edges. “They decided my fate as soon as I set foot in this place. And who do you think will take the fall for my lack of cooperation?”

His lips brushed against your ear.

“When I’m condemned,” he growled, “you’re condemned with me.”

You dropped the coffee cup, extended your fingers, and the remote dropped from its hidden holster into your palm.

You pressed the button.

The shock of electricity stung your wrist before Laufeyson released you, but it was nothing compared to the voltage that coursed through his body as he hit the ground, convulsing.

You released the button quickly, not realizing you were panting for breath or that your heart was pounding in your ears. You’d never shocked anyone before.

Laufeyson seemed just as surprised as you were, though it curled into anger and bared teeth when a group of five Minutemen flooded the room, batons drawn.

“Stand down,” you snapped. “I have him under control.”

The words felt like a lie. Your fingers trembled as you slipped the remote back up your sleeve, but at least your voice was steady. Deceptively so.

Why were they even here? The point of the Time Twister was for a single person to be able to handle the variant on their own.

“Do you confirm you have the Loki Variant L1130 rendered harmless, Agent?”

You glanced at the demigod in question. He, too, was trying to catch his breath, and remained on the floor even as he propped himself up on his elbows. He raised his brows at you as if to say, Well? Have you rendered me harmless?

“Yes.” You dragged your gaze away from him and addressed the Hunter that had spoken. You vaguely recognized him from Mobius’ field investigations. “You may go now.”

The Minutemen disengaged their weapons and filed out of the room. The other clerks and administrators who had stopped to watch the scene immediately continued on their way, even as they gossiped to each other in whispers.

“Still don’t believe me?”

You took a steadying breath. The humor was back in his voice as he rose to his feet, brushing himself off as if he’d done nothing more than tripped.

“Certainly shows a lack of trust on their part, sending their goons at the slightest sign of trouble. It’s almost as if they don’t think you can do the job.”

Working your jaw for a moment, you approached and came to a stop just in front of the variant, so close his smile faded.

“Never touch me again.”

You said it slowly, clearly, with perfect enunciation.

Laufeyson studied your face and raised an elegant brow.

“Do I have your understanding?” you pressed him. You wanted a verbal answer that grabbing your arm was unacceptable and could never happen again—

“For how long?”

You frowned.

“What?”

“You said to never touch you again, but for how long?”

“…Do you not know what the word never means?”

“What if I had your permission?”

The question was given seriously, but the light in his eyes said otherwise.

“Permission?” you hissed, followed by a glance around the common area to ensure no one was listening to the conversation. Fortunately, no one was paying either of you any attention. “Why would I ever give you permission to touch me?”

And there was the smile again, returned with full, pearly-white brilliance.

“Stranger things have been known to happen.”

You pointed a finger at his smarmy grin.

“I will shock you again.”

“Ooo.” He winced with playful exaggeration. “Promises.”

Despite the fact you had shocked him moments before, something in the air shifted. The tension vanished, and a more comfortable atmosphere settled between you. Even the smile that lingered on his lips seemed more genuine than the usual fare.

All you did was continue to stare.

“So.” Laufeyson smoothed the ruffled collar of his jumpsuit, breaking the strange moment. “Where off to next?”

You glanced down at your wristwatch, surprised to find the hands had moved farther than you’d thought.

“I suppose we should start walking now,” you said, and did just that, heading in the direction of the appropriate elevator banks. “It’s nearly time.”

His longer legs allowed him to easily catch up to you.

“Time for what?”

You didn’t meet his eye until after you pressed the button to call the elevator. And even then, you did so with reluctance.

“Your trial.”

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