#and by the time i was done i must’ve grabbed the wrong box without noticing

[dashiellqvverty]

just opened the waffles i bought on saturday and discovered i bought PLAIN instead of blueberry im so mad. but you can understand how i made the mistake

[abbygrabska]

Utopia

We watch the console.

“Cardiff.” “Cardiff?” Martha asks. “Cardiff is built on a rift in time and space. Just like California and the San Andreas Fault. The rift bleeds energy. Every now and then the Doctor opens up the engines and soaks up the energy. It’s fuel.” I explain.

“So it’s a pit stop.” She realizes.

“Exactly.” “Wait a minute. They had an earthquake in Cardiff, a couple of years ago. Was that you?” She asks.

He winces, “Bit of trouble with the Slitheen. Long time ago. Lifetimes. I was a different man back then. Just ask Abby.” “Can confirm, big ears, buzz cut, and an affinity for leather jackets.” I grin at him.

“My ears weren’t that big!” He protests, glancing at the monitor.

A look of panic appears on his face and he starts the Tardis.

The console sparks and we get thrown to the floor. “What’s that?” I ask. “We’re accelerating into the future. The year one billion. Five billion. Five trillion. Fifty trillion.” He watches the numbers go up, “What? The year one hundred trillion. That’s impossible!”

“Why? What happens then?” Martha asks.

“We’re going to the end of the universe.”

The Tardis lands with a thud.

“Well, we’ve landed.”

“So what’s out there?” I ask. “I don’t know.” “Say that again. That’s rare.” Martha says.

“Not even the Time Lords came this far. We should leave. We should go. We should really, really… go.” He looks at us and grins widely before heading for the door, “Outside is a bleak landscape.”

We step out.

Martha notices something, “Oh my God!” She taps the Doctor’s arm before rushing away.

I turn to look, “Oh, shit!” “Can’t get a pulse. Hold on, you’ve got that medical kit thing.” Martha jumps up and runs back into the Tardis.

I stare at Jack.

“Hello again.” The Doctor saunters over, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Martha rushes back out, “Here we go. Out of the way.” She shoves the Doctor, “It’s a bit odd, though. Not very one hundred trillion, that coat’s more like World War II.”

“I think he came with us.” “How’d you mean? From Earth?”

“Must’ve been clinging to the outside of the Tardis all the way through the vortex.” I shake myself out of shock, “Very him.” “What? You two know him?” She asks.

“Friend of ours. Used to travel with us. Back in the old days.” He nods.

“But he’s, I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat. There’s nothing. He’s dead.”

Jack gasps, coming back to life, grabbing Martha, who screams.

“Oh well, so much for me. It’s all right. Just breathe deep. I’ve got you now.”

Jack looks Martha up and down, “Captain Jack Harkness. And who are you?”

“Martha Jones.” “Nice to meet you, Martha Jones.” “Oh, don’t start!” The Doctor says.

“I was just saying hello.” “I don’t mind.” Martha smiles before helping Jack to his feet. Jack and the Doctor stare at each other coldly. “Doctor.” “Captain.” “Good to see you.” “And you. Same as ever… although… have you have work done?” The Doctor asks.

“You can talk!” “Oh yes, the face. Regeneration. How did you know this was me?”

“The police box kinda gives it away. I’ve been following you for a long time. You abandoned me.”

“Did I? Busy life. Move on.” “Just gotta ask. The Battle of Canary Wharf. I saw the list of the dead. It said Rose Tyler.” I step forward, making myself known to Jack, “She’s alive. A parallel world, safe and sound, with Mickey and Mom.” “Abby?” He smiles, opening his arms and hugging me, “It’s good to see you.” “So there I was, stranded in the year 200,100, ankle-deep in Dalek dust, and he goes off without me. But I had this.” He taps the machine on his wrist, “I used to be a Time Agent. It’s called a vortex manipulator. He’s not the only one who can time travel.”

“Oh, excuse me. That is not time travel. It’s like I've got a sports car and you’ve got a space hopper.”

I share a laugh with Martha.

“Boys and their toys.” “All right, so I bounced. I thought: the 21st century, is the best place to find the Doctor, except that I got it a little wrong. I arrived in 1869 and this thing burnt out so it was useless.”

“Told you.” “I had to live through the entire 20th century waiting for a version of you that would coincide with me.” “That makes you more than 100 years old.” “And looking good, doncha think? So I went to the time rift, based myself there ‘cause I knew you’d come back to refuel. Until I finally get a signal on this detecting you and here we are.” “But the thing is, how come you left him behind, Doctor?” Martha asks.

“I was busy.” He says. “It’s true. I absorbed the heart of the tardis and he had to save me. Triggered his regeneration cycle and then he had to grow a new hand.” I explain. The Doctor walks to the edge of a canyon that looks like it once held a city of some sort. “Is that a city?” Martha asks. “A city or a hive. Looks like it was grown. But look there. That’s like pathways, roads… Must have been some sort of life. Long ago.” The Doctor explains. “What killed it?” I ask.

“Time. Just time. Everything’s dying now. All the great civilizations have gone. This isn’t just night. All the stars have burned away and faded away into nothing.” “It must have an atmospheric shell. We should be frozen to death.”

“Well, Martha, Abby, and I, maybe. Not so sure about you, Jack.” The Doctor looks at Jack. “What about the people? Does no one survive?”

“I suppose we have to hope. Life will find a way.” “Well, he’s not doin’ too bad.” Jack points to a man running along one of the pathways, being chased by a horde of people.

“Is it me, or does that look like a hunt? Come on!” We run along a roadway.

“Oh, I’ve missed this!”

Jack grabs the man, “I’ve got you.” “We’ve gotta run! They’re coming! They’re coming!”

Jack passes the man to the Doctor and pulls out his revolver, aiming it at the horde.

“Jack, don’t you dare!” The Doctor shouts.

Jack fires into the air and the horde stops. “What the hell are they?” I ask. “There’s more of them. We’ve got to keep going.”

“I’ve got a ship nearby. It’s safe. It’s not far, it’s just over there.” The Doctor looks back the way we came to see another horde, “Or maybe not.” “We’re close to the silo. If we get to the silo, then we’re safe.” We all run to the silo, followed by the horde, arriving at a gated area with watchtowers and guards.

“It’s the Futurekind! Open the gate!”

“Show me your teeth! Show me your teeth! Show me your teeth!” The guard orders. We all grit our teeth in wide smiles.

“Human! Let ‘em in! Let ‘em in!”

The guards open the gate and we run inside.

“Close! Close! Close!” the guard fires his gun at the ground in front of the horde. “Humans. Humani. Make feast.” “Go back where you came from. I said go back! Go back!” The guard aims his gun.

“Oh, don’t tell him to put down his gun.” “He’s not my responsibility.” “And I am?” Jack scoffs, “That makes a change.”

“Kind watch you. Kind hungry.” The leader of the horde signals the others and they back away.

“Thanks for that.” I speak to the guard.

“Right. Let’s get you inside.”

“My naime is Padrafet Shafekane. Please tell me, can you take me to Utopia?”

“Oh yes, sir. Yes, I can.”

The guard leads us into a large tunnel carved into a mountain.

“It’s a box, a big blue box. I’m sorry, but I really need it back. It’s stuck out there.” The Doctor explains to the man, Lt. Atillo.

“I’m sorry, but my family was heading for the silo. Did they get here? My mother is Kistane Shafekane. My brother is Beltone.” Padra interrupts. “The computers are down, but you can check the paperwork. Creet!” 

A young boy of about 10 sticks his head around a corner.

“Passenger needs help.” “Right. What d’you need?”

Padra walks over to Creet and looks at his clipboard.

“A blue box, you said.”

“Big, tall, wooden. Says ‘Police’.” The Doctor explains.

“We’re driving out for a last water collection. I’ll see what I can do.”

The Doctor thanks him before Creet motions for us to follow him.

We follow him through corridors lined with people camping.

Creet calls out the names.

“It’s like a refugee camp.” Martha notes. “Stinking.” Jack passes a rather large man who stares, “Ooh, sorry. No offense.” “Don’t you smell that?” The Doctor asks, “The ripe old smell of humans. You survived. Oh, much better than a million years evolving into clouds of gas. And then another million as downloads, but you always revert to the same basic shape. The fundamental humans. End of the universe and here you are. Indomitable! That’s the word! Indomitable! Ha!”

The Shafekane family reunites. “It’s not all bad news.” Martha smiles. Jack notices a good-looking man, “Captain Jack Harkness.” He shakes the man's hand, “And who are you?”

The Doctor and I are examining a door, using his sonic screwdriver to try and open it, “Stop it. Give us a hand with this.” Jack reluctantly lets go of the man’s hand before joining us.

“It’s half deadlocked. See if you can overwrite the code.” Jack sets to work on the keypad while the Doctor continues to use his sonic screwdriver, “Let’s find out where we are.” The door slides open and the Doctor nearly falls into the silo. Jack stops him by grabbing his coat, “Gotcha.” “Thanks.” “How did you cope without me?” Jack asks sarcastically.

“Now that is what I call a rocket.” I comment.

“They’re not refugees, they’re passengers.” The Doctor notes. “He said they were going to Utopia.” Martha says.

“The perfect place. 100 trillion years, it’s still the same old dream. Do you recognize those engines?”

“Nope. whatever it is, it’s not rocket science. But it’s hot, though.”

“Boiling.” We all step back and Jack closes the door.

“But if the universe is falling apart, what does Utopia mean?” The Doctor wonders.

An old man runs up to us and looks between Jack and the Doctor.

“The Doctor?”

“That’s me.” The Doctor raises his hand.

The old man takes his hand and leads him away, repeating the word ‘good’.

“Chan, welcome, tho.” 

The old man leads the Doctor over to several objects, explaining what they do.

“Hello.” I greet the blue woman with what looks like insect antennas, “Who are you?” “Chan, Chantho, tho.” “Captain Jack Harkness.” Jack smirks. “Stop it.” I say. “Can’t I say hello to anyone?” “Chan, I do not protest, tho.” She smiles.

“Maybe later, Blue.” He winks, “So, what have we got here?”

Martha follows Jack.

“And all this feeds into the rocket?” The Doctor asks.

“Yes, except without a stable footprint we’ll never achieve escape velocity. If only we could harmonize the five impact patterns and unify them, well, we might yet make it. What do you think, Doctor? Any ideas?” the Professor asks.

“Well, um, basically… sort of… not a clue.” “Nothing?” “I’m not from around these parts. I’ve never seen a system like it. Sorry.” The Professor speaks dejectedly, “No, no. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. There’s been so little help.”

I take a glance at Martha and find her pulling… a hand in a container out of Jack's bag.

“Oh my God.” She sets the hand on the table, “You’ve got a hand. A hand in a jar. A hand in a jar in your bag.”

I turn to the Doctor, “Is that yours?”

He nods, gobsmacked.

“I said I had a Doctor detector.” Jack defends. “Chan, is this a tradition amongst your people, tho?”

“Not on my street. What d’you mean that’s your hand? You’ve got both your hands, I can see them.” Martha denies.

“Long story. I lost my hand on Christmas Day. In a swordfight.”

“What? And you grew another hand?”

I furrow my brow, “I literally told you that earlier.” “I thought you were joking!” She says.

“Might I ask, what species are you?” The Professor asks. “Time Lord. Last of. Heard of them? Legend or anything? Not even a myth? Blimey, the end of the universe is a bit humbling.” The Doctor rambles.

“Chan, It is said that I am the last of my species too, tho.” “Sorry, what was your name?” The Doctor asks. “My assistant and good friend, Chanto. A survivor of the Malmooth. This was their planet, Malcassairo, before we took refuge.” “The city outside, that was yours?” I ask. “Chan, the conglomeration died, tho.” Chantho explains. “I’m sorry.” I empathize.

“Chan, most grateful, tho.” “So what about those things outside?” Jack asks, “The Beastie Boys. What are they?” “We call them the Futurekind. Which is a myth in itself, but, uh, it is feared they are what we will become. Unless we reach Utopia.” “And Utopia is…”

“Oh, every human knows of Utopia. Where have you been?” 

“Bit of a hermit.” “A hermit with friends?” “Hermits United. We meet up every ten years. Swap stories about caves. It’s good fun… For a hermit. So, um, Utopia?”

The Professor crooks his finger and leads us to a computer that shows a navigational chart with a blinking red dot. “The call came from across the stars, over and over again. Come to Utopia. Originated from that point.” “Where is that?” I ask.

“Oh, it’s far beyond the Condensate Wilderness. Out towards the wildlands and the dark matter reefs. Calling us in. the last of the humans. Scattered across the night.” “What do you think’s out there?” “I don’t know. A colony, a city, some sort of haven? The Science Foundation created the Utopia Project thousands of years ago to preserve mankind, to find a way of surviving beyond the collapse of reality itself. Now perhaps they found it. Perhaps not. But it’s worth a look, don’t you think?”

I watch the Professor stare off into space while the Doctor rambles.

The Doctor seems to notice as well, “Professor? Professor?”

“I… Right, that’s enough talk. There’s work to do. Now if you could leave. Thank you.” He walks away.

“You all right?” “Yes. I’m fine! And busy!” “Except that rocket’s not going to fly, is it? This footprint mechanism thing, it’s not working.”

“We’ll find a way!”

“You’re stuck on this planet. And you haven’t told them, have you? That lot out there, they still think they’re gonna fly.”

“Well, it’s better to let them live in hope.” “Quite right, too. And I must say, Professor…” The Doctor removes his coat and gives it to me as he passes, “Um, what was it?” “Yana.” “Professor Yana. this new science is well beyond me, but all the same, a boost reversal circuit, in any time frame, must be a circuit that reverses the boost. So, I wonder, what would happen if I did this?” He picks up the circuit and uses his sonic on it before switching it on, giving us power.

“Chan, it’s working, tho!”

“But, how did you do that?” Professor Yana asks.

“Oh, we’ve been chatting away. I forgot to tell you, I’m brilliant.”

Martha, Chantho, and I are heading in the opposite direction of the queues of people, carrying circuit boards.

“Excuse me. Hey, what was your name? Creet?” I ask the little boy who helped us earlier. “That’s right, miss.” “Who are you with, Creet?” I ask. “No one, miss. There’s just me.” “Well, good luck. What do you think it’s going to be like in Utopia?” Martha asks.

“My mum used to say the skies are made of diamonds.” “Good for her. Go on, off you go. Get your seat.” Creet continues on.

We return to the lab, I smile upon seeing the tardis, “Oh, I am so glad to see her.” Chantho goes to Yana, who is sitting down. “Chan, Professor, are you all right, tho?” “Yes, I’m fine. I’m fine.” He dismisses weakly before speaking strongly, “I’m fine. Just get on with it.”

“Connect those circuits into the spar, same as that last lot. But quicker.” I salute sarcastically, “Yes, sir.”

“How long have you been with the professor?” I ask Chantho. “Chan, seventeen years, tho.” “Blimey. A long time.” Martha comments.

“Chan, I adore him, tho.” “Oh right, and he…” “Chan… I don’t think he even notices, tho.” She speaks sadly.

“Tell us about it.” “Chan, but I am happy to serve, tho.”

“Do you mind if I ask? Do you have to start every sentence with ‘chan’?” Martha asks. “Chan, yes, tho.” “And end every sentence with…” “Chan, tho, tho.” “What would happen if you didn’t?” I question.

“Chan, that would be rude, tho.” “Oh, like swearing?” I realize. “Chan, indeed, tho.” “Go on, just once.” Martha urges.

“Chan, I can’t, tho.” She replies nervously.

“Oh, do it for us.” I use my puppy pout. “No.” We all giggle.

“God’s sake! This equipment! Needs rebooting all the time!” Professor Yana shouts.

I walk over to him, “Anything I can do? I’ve finished that lot.” “Yes, if you could.” He gets up so I can have his seat, “Just press the reboot key every time the picture goes out.”

“Of course.”

“Are you still there?” Atillo asks. “Ah, present and correct. Send your man inside. We’ll keep the levels down from here.”

“He’s inside. And good luck to him.” “Captain, keep the levels below the red.” “Where is that room?” The Doctor asks.

“It’s underneath the rocket. Fix the couplings and the footprint can work. But the entire chamber is flooded with stet radiation.” Professor Yana explains. “Stet? Never heard of it.”

“You wouldn’t want to. But it’s safe enough. We can hold the radiation back from here.” We watch on the monitor as the man works on the couplings. An alarm begins to sound. “It’s rising… 0.2. Keep it level!” More alarms go off.

“Chan, we’re losing power, tho!” “Radiation’s rising!”

“We’ve lost control!” “The chamber’s going to flood.” “Jack! Override the vents!” Jack takes hold of two live cables, “We can jump-start the override.” He holds both cables together.

“Don’t! It’s going to flare!”

Jack screams as the power courses through him. He falls to the floor. Martha rushes over to Jack, “I’ve got him.”

“Chan, don’t touch the cables, tho.” Chantho pushes the cables aside.

We all rush to check on Jack. I look at the Doctor, he’s not shocked in the slightest.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” “The chamber’s flooded with radiation, yes?” Martha starts mouth-to-mouth on Jack. “Without the couplings, the engines will never start. It was all for nothing!”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The Doctor walks forward, “Martha, leave him.” He pulls her up gently.

“You’ve gotta let me try.” She protests.

“Come on. Come on. Just listen to me. Now leave him alone. It strikes me, Professor, you’ve got a room a man can’t enter without dying. Is that correct?” “Yes.” “Well…” Jack gasps for breath as he comes back to life.

The Doctor removes his glasses, “I’ve got just the man.” “Was someone kissing me?”

The Doctor and Jack race out of the room.

“We lost picture when that thing flared up. Doctor, are you there?” I ask.

“Receiving, yeah. He’s inside.”

“And still alive?” Martha asks.

“Oh, yes.” “But he should evaporate. What sort of a man is he?” Professor Yana asks.

“I’ve only just met him. The Doctor sort of travels through time and space and picks people up. God, I make us sound like stray dogs. Maybe we are.”

“He travels in time?” Professor Yana looks away distracted.

“Tardis. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space.” I recall.

“When did you first realize?” The Doctor asks Jack.

“Earth, 1892. Got in a fight on Ellis Island. A man shot me through the heart. Then I woke up. Thought it was kinda strange. But then it never stopped. Fell off a cliff, trampled by horses, World War I, World War II, poison, strangulation, a stray javelin… In the end, I got the message, I’m the man who can never die. And all that time you knew.”

“That’s why I left you behind. It’s not easy even just… just looking at you Jack, ‘cause you’re wrong.” “Thanks.” “You are, I can’t help it. I’m a Time Lord. It’s instinct. It’s in my guts. You’re a fixed point in time and space. You’re a fact. That’s never meant to happen. Even the Tardis reacted against you, tried to shake you off. Flew all the way to the end of the universe just to get rid of you.” “So what you’re saying is that you’re, uh, prejudiced.” “I never thought of it like that.” “Yeah. Last thing I remember back when I was mortal… I was facing three Daleks. Death by extermination. And then I came back to life. What happened?”

“Abby.” My eyes widen in surprise. “I thought you sent her back home.” “She came back. Opened the heart of the Tardis and absorbed the time vortex.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” “No one’s ever meant to have that power. If a Time Lord did that, he’d become a god, a vengeful god. But she’s human. Everything she does is so human. She brought you back to life but she couldn’t control it. She brought you back forever. That’s something, I suppose. The final act of the Time War was life.” “Do you think she could change me back?” “I took the power out of her, if she did it again, it might kill her.”

“I’m sorry.” “Yep.” There is a silence.

“Do you wanna die?” The Doctor asks. “Oh, this one’s a little stuck.” “Jack?” “I thought I did. I dunno. But this lot, you see them out here surviving and that’s fantastic.” “You may be out there somewhere.” “I could go meet myself.” “Well, the only man you’re ever gonna be happy with.”

“This new regeneration, it’s kinda cheeky.”

“Time travel. They say there was time travel back in the old days. I never believed. But what would I know? I’m just a stupid old man. Never could keep time. Always late, always lost. Even this thing never worked.” Yana pulls out a fob watch from his waistcoat pocket, “Time and time and time again. Always running out on me.”

“Can I have a look at that?” I ask.

“Oh, it’s only an old relic.” He chuckles.

“Where did you get it?” Martha asks, seemingly realizing where I’m going.

“Hm? I was found with it.” “What do you mean?”

“An orphan in the storm. I was a naked child found on the coast of the Silver Devastation. Abandoned with only this.” He holds up the fob watch.

“Have you opened it?” “Why would I? It’s broken.” “How do you know it’s broken if you’ve never opened it?” “It’s stuck. It’s old. It’s not meant to be. I don’t know.” I take the watch and turn it over. It has the same engravings as the Doctor’s.

I glance at Martha before stepping back. “Does it matter?” Yana asks.

“No. it’s… nothing. It’s… Listen, everything’s fine up here. I’m gonna see if the Doctor needs me.” Martha says before running out of the room.

Yana holds the watch.

“Chan, Yana, won’t you please take some rest, tho?”

Yana opens the watch, releasing its contents.

“Chan, Professor Yana, tho?”

He turns from the Tardis to face us, no longer seeming like the genial man he was before.

He throws a lever.

“Chan, but you’ve locked them in, tho.” “Not to worry, my dear. As one door closes, another must open.” He throws another switch, “The power goes down at the main gate and Futurekind realizes they can get in.” “You have to stop!” Yana ignores me as he works on various controls around the lab.

“Chan, but you’ve lowered the defenses! The Futurekind will get in, tho!”

I see Chantho pull a gun out and back up.

“Chan, Professor, I’m so sorry, but I must stop you. You’re destroying all our work, tho.”

Yana turns and sees her aiming the gun at him.

“Oh… now I can say I was provoked.” He holds out one of the live cables, “Did you never think, in all those years standing beside me, to ask about that watch? Never? Did you never think, not ever, that you could set me free?”

Chantho whimpers, “Chan, I’m sorry, tho. I’m so sorry.”

“And you, with your ‘chan’ and your ‘tho’ driving me insane.” “Professor, please…” I whisper. “That is not my name! The Professor… was an invention. So perfect a disguise that I forgot who I am.” “Chan, who are you, tho?”

He speaks in a low whisper, “I am the Master.” He thrusts the cable forward, shocking Chantho.

I scream as her body convulses.

He kneels and reaches out to take the canister containing the Doctor’s hand.

“Professor!” I snap my head to the locked door.

“Professor, let me in! Let me in! Jack, get the door open!” I go to rush to the door when a hand grabs my wrist, “You’re not going anywhere!”

I scream as I am dragged away from the door. He groans as a gunshot goes off, wrapping his arm around my neck and staggering back against the Tardis. The doors open and the Doctor rushes inside.

“Doctor!” I cry out. He moves forward but the Master pulls me into the Tardis before locking it.

He throws me away from him. I hit my head on the console before landing on the floor.

My vision is blurry, but I can hear the Doctor shouting, “I’m begging you! Everything’s changed! It’s only the two of us! We’re the only ones left! Just let me in!”

“Killed by an insect! A girl! How inappropriate. Still, if the Doctor can be young and strong, then so can I. The Master… reborn.” I look up just in time to see the Master regenerate.

“Doctor… ooh, new voice. Anyway, why don’t we stop and have a nice little chat while I tell you all my plans and you can work out a way to stop me? I don’t think so!”“I’m asking you really properly! Just stop! Just think!” “Use my name.” “Master. I’m sorry.” “Tough!” I hear him start the controls before coming over to me, “Your little pet will make an excellent accomplice.” His hands wrap around my throat and I gasp for breath as my vision goes black.

[secretlittl3whore]

Out Of Bullets

summary: Y/N has always had a crush on the man who beat her record on the range. So what happens when he returns from a mission to find that the little lady has taken his words to heart and gotten better?!

Warnings: it’s smut y’all. P in v. Unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it). Fingering. Virgin sex.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem/reader

Totz my first smut! Critiques appreciated! Luvs y’all!

————————————————————

The compound was pretty quiet during the twilight hours, and that was the absolute preference of Y/N. She did love people, don’t get her wrong, but there was something about her boots echoing off the empty hallways that brought solace. She continued her path to the shooting range, but almost turned around when she heard that distinct sound of bullets flying towards the paper targets.

“Ugh.” Y/N groaned. Then she caught a glimpse of a figure and couldn’t stop herself from drooling at the sight. He must’ve just returned from a mission, cuz he was still clad in his tactical gear. Holsters still attached and filled with weapons. Her eyes traveled downward resting on his thighs. Even those pants couldn’t hide those delicious features. A fire pooled deep within and subconsciously y/n started to rub her thighs together trying to create some sort of friction.

Did she hate him for beating her in everything? Yes, but that didn’t mean she hated him. No, every fiber of y/n’s being wanted him to bend her over the table and fuck her within an inch of her life. Not caring if someone walked in and saw, though someone definitely would eventually see cause of all the damn cameras Stark installed.

Almost as if he had heard her lustful thoughts, the man turned to look at her. He nodded a greeting and then went back to his drills. Must’ve went bad, y/n thought to herself.

She came to a stop beside him and watched him empty his clip before turning to her.

“Good morning Buck,” she stated cooly. Bucky just stared. “Bad mission?” His nostrils flared. Bingo.

“Sam is...fuck. He never has a fucking plan. Just jumps in.” He roared, gloved hands coming to pinch the bridge of his nose. Y/N stayed quiet, knowing to let him rant and not interject till he was finished. She learned the hard way that by doing so, he would shut down and not talk. Y/N prided herself on being a confidant. “He’s going to get someone killed!”. Absentmindedly he started twirling a vibranium knife in his gloved fingers before sinking it into the target that he had just been shooting at. Y/N closed her eyes quickly, knowing her pupils had blown out and stifled a small moan. Could he be any less sexy when he was mad?! Bucky took a deep breath, a sign that he was done ranting and y/n could talk.

“We both know that he’s stupid and reckless.” Bucky let out a gruff laugh, “and that’s why you are his partner because you balance him. The missions are most always successful with you two. It’s just going to take a few to get the rhythm right.” His eyes narrowed at y/n. She spoke truth, and he hated it. With a smug smile, y/n dumped her bag onto the other half of a table.

“Looking for a challenge or you done for today?” Bucky’s eyebrow raised quizzically and he smirked.

“A challenge? Have you been practicing what I showed you?” Y/N grinned and shook her head,

“No.” But that was a total lie. Before he had gone on the mission three weeks ago, they had spent around 6 hours in the range. It was grueling but he pushed her through drills and training. Since then, she had been in the range every day from twilight till noon practicing. Something flashed across his eyes, but disappeared just as quick. There was no way he could know she was lying...could he?

“You first doll.”

By the time y/n was nearly out of bullets, a small crowd had gathered in the viewing box. She was sure that she could see a certain redhead watching intently as y/n performed drill after drill. So focused on the target that she was missing the fact that his eyes hardly ever left her. How they softly caressed her figure and imagined stripping her, being inside her. Watching y/n go through these drills smoothly caused his dick to strain painfully against his pants.

Y/Ns gun clicked and that was it. She was officially out of bullets. She turned to Bucky and caught his eyes immediately. Had they always been that dark? She shook the thought out of her head and went to retrieve the targets. Bucky joined her silently. As they pulled down their targets he briefly dragged a digit along her hand, the leather feeling strangely cool against her skin. It caused a shiver and immediately a blush formed red hot across y/ns cheeks. No stop it! She told herself, it was an accident. Wasn’t it? Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of his profile. His eyes were still dark and he looked almost like he was in pain. Turning back to her target, she grinned widely. Her splatter of shots were centralized around the winning position. No outliers. She had certainly improved, and he had definitely noticed.

“I think you might have actually won this one.” He said through gritted teeth, enunciating the last word almost painfully. Y/N couldnt stop herself from celebrating out loud!

“Fuck yes! Told you I’d beat you Sarge!” There it was, that flash across his eyes, but this time it didn’t disappear as quickly. Y/N gulped as the man stared at her with such ferocity that she actually felt small.

“Want to try that again?” He asked, his voice quiet. She looked behind him and notice that the entirety of the audience had disappeared, almost as if they had never been there.

“I’m out of bullets.” Y/N said softly, her eyes.

“Did I say drills?” He said darkly, leaning in closely. She tried to sputter out a response but his lips captured hers in a gnash of teeth. Her response was immediately, letting that winning target float to the floor out of sight out of mind as she wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck.

Their lips moved with each other rhythmically. She felt his tongue on her lip and she welcomed him in, his taste intoxicating her, sending her head spinning. He pulled away suddenly, earning a small whine from her lips.

“Doll, I need you.” He said almost in a whisper as he leaned his forehead against hers. She almost gasped when she felt it, his dick pressing against her leg. Eyes darting she found the locker room and grabbed his hand, leading him quickly towards it. She found that small medical bay and locked them inside, pressing him against the door. Y/N leaned upwards to kiss him,

“Let me taste you.” She said seductively. He groaned throwing his head back against the door. She took that as a yes and dropped to her knees, making quick work of his pants. Her release was almost ripped from her when she released his dick and it slapped against his stomach. For a minute she paused. He was huge! Thick and glorious. The tip pulsating red and precun dripping. Was now the time to say she was a virgin? Would that make him stop? No, she had done enough research to know how to please a man...she hoped.

Languidly, she kitten licked along his shaft, taking in his scent and the taste of his skin. Bucky’s breathing quickened and she could hear the whirring of his vibranium arm as he clenched his fist. She licked a long stripe on the underside before taking his tip into her mouth. His breath hitched as she sucked.

“Doll,” his breath strangled, “doll you’ve got to move.” Fear struck, but she fought it and started bobbing her head. “Fuck, yes like that doll.” His flesh hand came to rest on her head, threading into her hair making a makeshift ponytail. He started taking over her movements. Y/N hollowed her cheeks like she learned, but it didn’t help when she felt him touch the back of her throat. She gagged painfully and pulled backwards roughly. Bucky stared down at her, eyes full of concern as she coughed harshly.

“Fuck doll. Shit I’m sorry. You just felt so good.” He cooed as he leaned down, grasping her face. She offered a small smile,

“I’m sorry.” Bucky grimaced, kissing her forehead softly.

“No y/n, it’s my fault. Nat said you were a virgin and I should’ve remembered...” he stopped dead in his tracks at the look upon y/ns face.

“She told you?!” She gasped. Bucky started scratching his the back of his head against he sat against the door, dick still hard and angry at being left without attention. She wasn’t angry at the fact that he knew, more so confused at all the conversation came up...or did Nat just offer that information freely l, that devious Russian mink.

“Ugh, yeah, she um...I’m sorry.” He made a move like he was gonna to get up but Y/Ns hand shot out and grabbed him by the vest.

“Don’t go. I...” she paused to collect her thoughts, Bucky looked at her sadly, pondering at what her response would be. “I still want you.” Bucky’s eyes snapped to hers,

“You do?” He asked surprised. Y/N chuckled at his response and leaned in towards him,

“I wouldn’t have sucked your dick if I didn’t.” The darkness returned to his eyes.

“I’ve wanted you for so long doll, are you sure?” She kissed him ferociously,

“Yes James,” Bucky groaned at the sound of his real name dripping from her lips. So low and sultry. He wanted to have her saying it over and over. He pulled y/n onto his lap, straddling her legs over his hips. He captured her lips as he kicked his pants off, but not before grabbing a certain leather strap.

Y/N’s whole body was on fire. This man’s smell, his taste, the feel of his skin, was so intoxicating she felt drunk and high at the same time. Was that even possible?

Suddenly her legs felt cold and then something warm was pressed against her ass. She pulled away and looked down, no he fucking didn’t. Looking back up, y/n noted a shit eating grin as he embedded the knife in the door behind him.

“You owe me new leggings.” She murmured, reaching down to unzip his vest. He shrugged it off and then took his shirt off. She couldn’t help but letting her hands explore the new territory, even taking a moment to trace the area where the metal met flesh. Y/N placed small open mouth kisses after the trails of her fingers, the scarred skin and metal creating a tingly texture against her lips.

“I’ll owe you a new shirt and bra too.” Before she could protest, they too were ripped from her body, that knife now embedded in the wall behind her. She tried glaring at him but couldn’t help but laugh at his grin.

“You are trouble Sarge.” He rutted his hips into her at the pet name and y/n bit back a moan. The movement caused his dick to slip underneath her and now it rested against her stomach, the red tip pleading with her for attention. She sighed and gripped him softly, before pumping. Bucky’s head hang low against his chest as his hands came to rest at her back. She hissed at the metal’s coldness but didn’t stop pumping. His breath quickened as she quickly spat into her other hand before switching them.

Bucky threw his head back against the door, eyes slammed shut and mouth agape, taking small uneven breaths.

“Doll...doll please,” he begged, his metal hand coming to clasp hers, stopping her actions. “I...want to feel you.” Y/N gulped, she was much smaller than this super soldier, he was going to rip her apart. Slowly she raised herself on her knees and Bucky gripped himself, pumping slowly. “Are you ready?” He asked gently. Despite the pounding in her ears, she nodded, but he didn’t move his dick forward. Instead she felt his flesh fingers touch her lips.

He gathered the wetness on his fingers and then gently circled her clit. Y/N felt her whole body shake and she leaned forward to grip his shoulders. As he leaned forward to capture her lips, he entered her with a single finger. Y/N threw her head back and let out a moan. Bucky took the opportunity to latch his lips against her neck, kissing, licking, biting, ensuring that she was marked. A second finger was entered and she could feel him working in and out of her. Breathing quickening, hands gripping, Y/N felt that she was going to explode. Then his thumb began playing at her clit.

“Ah...Bucky...I....” she moaned and he stopped. She groaned when he removed his fingers and stuck them in his mouth. Licking plump lips, he smiled deviously at her,

“Delicious,” he whispered. Leaning his forehead against hers he gently placed his hands on her hips. Guiding her onto himself, slowly, allowing her to get used to the feeling. Y/N felt tears on her cheeks, she felt full but also a dull burning pain. He kissed her cheeks, licking the tears away. And he was fully inside. He groaned at the feeling, burying his face within her neck.

They stayed like this for a moment before y/n felt a surge of confidence and, as Nat told her, started to rock forward. Bucky moaned against her neck, bringing his flesh hand to grab her ass while his metal tangled within her hair. Y/N quickened her pace, enjoying all the noises she heard from him.

Gripping y/ns hair tightly, he started to rut up into her, creating a rhythm. Y/N bit back a moan. He trailed his lips up to her ear,

“No doll, don’t hold those back, let me hear you.” As he said that, he hit a certain spot and Y/N saw white, moaning loudly. Such a promiscuous sound, she felt embarrassed, but as he continued at that angle, she forgot all embarrassment.

The feeling started in her stomach and started to grow. Her breath quickened and her heart started pounding again.

“Please, please, please” she moaned over and over again. “Buc...James...I, shit, I...”

“I got you doll, just let go. Cum for me.” And she did. He felt it on his legs and smelt it. God she smelled good. He continued his pace, going quicker now, chasing his own release. He pressed hard into her as he groaned her name against her shoulder, biting down on her clavicle.

Y/N leaned her forehead against his, eyes hazy. His blue orbs looked back at her and he chastely kissed her swollen lips.

“That...that was better than I imagined.” She whispered finally. Bucky chuckled,

“Oh so you’ve imagined riding me y/n?” She knew he was teasing her but she still blushed crimson. “You’ll have to tell me what else you’ve imagined and you’ll have to tell me which is better.” Oh she definitely knew now, which was better, but she couldn’t deny that she was excited to feel him inside again.

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: five ( 4.7k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The grocery store was a mess of color and light. You swore you’d never seen so much food in one place. 

Back when your mom had been alive, you’d never really gone to traditional grocery stores. You’d always just visited markets where your mom knew the vendors and could talk down their prices on ugly produce and day old bread. After she’d died, you’d eaten whatever the staff in the group home had provided, then whatever you could scrounge up from convenience stores. Most of the time since you’d aged out of social services, you survived off the free rice and kimchi available in your goshiwon. 

Occasionally, you’d eat at work with your free staff meal, but you tried to avoid it. You knew the sight of you wolfing down ramyeon and cold kimbap as fast as you could made Jiah worry. If she ever saw you looking too haggard, she’d try to slip some home made meals to the front desk of your goshiwon when you weren’t looking and that was as embarrassing as it was helpful. 

For as long as you could remember, the question of where your next meal was coming from had hung over your head like a dark cloud. It didn’t seem like that was going to be a problem any longer. 

Aisle after aisle stretched out before you, blindingly bright. It looked like an amusement park. You were finding it hard to stop staring. You reached out in a haze and picked up the juiciest apple you’d ever seen. Sure, you sold them all the time at Quickstop, but they’d always been dull and just the slightest bit bruised. This one was perfect: fire engine red and still wet from the mister. It was cold and heavy in your hands. You almost felt like crying.

“You good?” Yoongi is beside you, leaning over on the shopping cart, his chin in his hand. He looks dreadfully bored. 

“Yeah,” you tell him, setting the apple gently back in its place. “Yeah; just got distracted for a second.” You give a single tug on the front of the basket to move him along, and he follows, shuffling against the bright white linoleum. 

“Why aren’t you getting that?” He calls, just before you can round the corner into the dry goods aisle. You turn and look at him over your shoulder, confusion slightly furrowing your brow. “Don’t you want it?”

Your eyes flick from his face back to the glittering heap of fruit. You gnaw at your lip. “...They’re 6,000 won a kilo.”

Yoongi purses his lips. “That’s not what I asked you.” 

“I don’t need them,” you huff, trying to stave off the beginnings of another argument. “There’s more important things...like you three and getting you clothes and better furniture and-” Before you get the chance to finish, the gray haired man has ducked back around the corner. He returns with two three kilo bags of apples and dumps them unceremoniously into the cart. 

He looks up at you, brows raised and his eyes daring you to say something. All you do is sigh. “Yoongi-”

“Jimin likes apples.” He says, before you can get a word in edgewise. “They’re for him.” You can’t argue with that. He pushes the basket forward and you two drift down the next aisle. 

There’s a question resting on the tip of your tongue and as you compare brands of rice, you spit it out. “So...what do you guys eat? I read an article that said to mainly feed cat hybrids fish, but...”

“But we’re not house cats.” He finishes, flipping over a box of cereal to read the back. His nose wrinkles at something he finds and he slides it back onto the shelf. It’s cute, you think- or would be if you couldn’t see the tips of his razor sharp incisors poking out when his lip curled up. Yoongi senses your gaze and looks over at you. You look away quickly and make yourself busy reading a label. “We can eat pretty much anything you’d eat. Not too much processed shit or we’ll get sick. Whole foods are better.”

You nod, making a mental note to forego sodas and chips. “And when you’re shifted?”

He shakes his head. “We don’t really eat when we’re shifted down unless we plan on staying there for a long time.” 

You choose a 10 kilo bag of rice, tug it out from the shelf with a little grunt and plop it onto the basket’s bottom shelf. That was good, you supposed. You were worried you were gonna have to watch three big cats rip into raw meat whenever it caught their fancy.  “Why don’t I push the basket and you can pick out things Taehyung and Jimin would want?”

He nods and shifts to the other side of the aisle. “What’s my limit?”

You pause for a moment, then stand and fix him with a strange look. “What do you mean?” He isn’t looking at you. He’s comparing two brands of cereal, scanning the nutritional facts on the back. 

“How much am I allowed to spend on food?” he questions, simply. “-and what foods are we allowed to eat?”

You balked at him. “.. .you want me to control your diet?”

“I don’t want you to, but most owners prefer a certain look.” He turns his flat, yellow-grey eyes on you. “So what is it? No carbs? no sugars? Low fat? No fat? Dairy-free-”

“Oh my God, no!” You yelp before he can list any more diets. You’d said it a little louder than you’d intended and a well-dressed mom at the other end of the aisle fixes you two with an odd look before hustling her twins into another part of the store. You wince, but continue in a quieter but no less urgent voice. “I mean, I’m not gonna tell you what you can and can’t eat that’s…” 

“It’s not unusual,” Yoongi cuts in before you can give voice to your thoughts. He sets one of the cereal boxes, decorated with bright colors and little cartoon animals, back on the shelf and tosses the other -something in a dull green and white box with a little piece of wheat on the front- into the cart. “You didn’t feed us last night.”

A pang of guilt shoots through you. You curl your fingers around the bar of the cart, stare at your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, with all the sincerity in the world. “I was tired -and I know that’s not an excuse- but I fell asleep without thinking of you guys. It won’t happen again.” 

“Relax,” Yoongi drawls.”It’s not the first time we’ve gone hungry; I’m sure it won’t be the last.” He starts drifting toward the end of the aisle, but before he can go, you catch him by the sleeve of his sweatshirt. 

There’s barely an inch of fabric between your thumb and forefinger, but the look Yoongi gives you makes it look like you’d yanked him back by the collar. He whirls on you, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into something sour. You’d overstepped by grabbing him. Still, you speak. “That was the last time. I mean it.” 

The hybrid’s face shifts from irritation into something unrecognizable. He’s looking at you like there’s an equation written behind your eyes that he’s trying to work out with his own, like if he looks deep enough into them he’ll find the answers etched across your sclera. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the seconds drag on, but you don’t look away. Instead, you hold his gaze and let the moment swell under almost unbearable tension.

Yoongi gives first. He tugs his sleeve out of your grip and shuffles back out of reach. “Whatever you say,” he scoffs, stalking off into the next aisle, his ears tilted back and tail tip flicking in irritation. 

You sigh. You’d done it again. The urge to catch him again wells up in you, but you tamp it down. ‘Time and space,’ you remind yourself. ‘Give him time and give him space.’ Satisfied once the distance between the two of you is enough, you go to follow after him, but hesitate as you pass the cereal he’d been looking at. You tug it off the shelf and place it in the basket underneath a few other things so it’d be hidden. You don’t know why and if he asked you about it later you were sure you’d draw a blank. If nothing else, you told yourself as you hurried to catch up with your hybrid, he’d have a choice.

The rest of the grocery trip passed in silence, just as it’d begun. Yoongi didn’t so much as look at you, but that was fine. You were focused on watching him. Anything that he gave more than a passing glance went into the basket. If the bobcat hybrid noticed your rapidly increasing haul, he didn’t say anything about it. He was silent.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Even when you flinched as the cashier announced the total and you waffled between trying to walk home or calling a taxi. Even in the lobby then the elevator on the way up as Mr. Park talked both of your ears off and you had to stop him from carrying your groceries in and stocking the fridge himself, Yoongi had remained eerily quiet. It’d given you time to think. 

You didn’t know much about hybrids. If you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t known anything about them prior to what you’d anxiety-googled yesterday afternoon. You were so far out of your depth, it was miracle you hadn’t drowned yet. Still, you weren’t completely oblivious.

In between Yoongi’s open hostility, Jimin’s blase attitude toward his own objectification and what snippets you’d heard about Taehyung’s early life, you knew something must’ve been very, very wrong with the people who’d had them before they’d been foisted upon you. The expectation that you were supposed to treat hybrids like actual pets made you uncomfortable enough without the assumption that you’d be dressing them up like dolls and locking the snack cabinets at night. 

A spike of anger shot through you. They might’ve been different than humans but they were still people. They hadn’t deserved whatever shady things their owners had done to them and you didn’t want them to come to expect them from you. You shift the grocery bags up your arm, freeing up a hand so you can punch the code into the door. There was no way around it. The four of you would need to sit down and have a good long talk. 

The second you punch the code into your door it swings open. “Hey, Jim-” the greeting dies on your tongue. It’s not Jimin who meets you at the door, but Taehyung, freshly showered, the curly ends of his hair dripping water onto the white tile and the front of his sweatshirt damp. His eyes were still hidden behind his hair but you could see more of him than you’d been able to that morning when he’d shifted. 

Well, not more of him. He was wearing clothes now, for one- a dark brown version of the sweat suit Yoongi and Jimin both wore. He was taller than you, which you’d known when he’d wrapped his arms around you, but looking up at him now you have to tilt your head back a bit. “Oh,” you say, a little dazed. “Wow.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. “Hi.” His voice is still as deep as it was this morning. Was it always like that? He turns his attention to the hybrid behind you and his lips part in a blindingly bright boxy grin. “Hi, hyung.”

Yoongi hums a hello and slips past you through the door. His shoulder brushes against Taehyung’s and the younger hybrid chuffs happily a little in his throat. He leans down as the older man passes and bumps their foreheads together affectionately. Their tails twine together briefly before the gray-haired hybrid is out of reach and dropping an armful of groceries off in the kitchen. 

“You shifted up,” you remark “Did something happen?” There’s a tick of concern in his voice. You step to the side of the doorway so the pair can talk without you in the middle.

Taehyung shakes his head, water droplets scattering. His hyung let out a hiss that erred just on the wrong side of animalistic as some of them hit him. You freeze, but the tiger hybrid just laughs. “No, Jimin and I were just-” His smile falters. You can’t see his eyes but his ears have twitched downward and his tail is suddenly stiff, only the tip ticking back and forth. The hybrid lowers his head, and you finally catch sight of eyes, gleaming amber and full of fear. Behind him, you see Yoongi catch a whiff of his junior’s souring scent and his head whips toward the pair of you, ears straight up and his whole body on high alert. 

Worry draws your brows together. “Taehyung?” you call softly. You reach out with your free hand to touch his shoulder, then think better of it. Your fingers hover uselessly and inch away from him. In this moment, that distance feels a mile wide. The line of his shoulders is rigid and he’s withdrawn into himself. “Taehyung, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you-”

“We went out.” He blurts, snapping his head up to look in your eyes. His own are wide and earnest. “You left your backpack open and I saw the list you made with all the phone numbers and passwords and the door code was on there and I really wanted to go to the park. Jimin told me to wait but I made him come with me; we were only gone for fifteen minutes, I swear. We didn’t even make it; the same police officer from earlier was still on the street.” 

“Taehyung-”

“Please-” he cuts you off before you can even get a word in edgewise. “Please, just punish me; Jimin didn’t do anything. The whole time he was trying to make me go back. He only went with me so I wouldn’t be alone.” 

Your heart wrenches in your chest. You do touch him, then. Your fingertips barely graze the material of his sweatshirt, but he flinches and you pull away. Your hand drops to your side, limp. “Can you and Jimin meet me in the living room?” You ask him, careful to keep your tone light and non-threatening as possible. “We need to talk.” His ears droop, but he nods and shuffles off to do as you ask. You trail behind him into the penthouse, making sure to give him enough space. The last thing you wanted to do right now was crowd him.

You drop the groceries on the counter in the kitchen and look up to find Yoongi squinting at you. He’s coiled up like a spring, ready to bolt at any moment. You try to give him a reassuring smile, but it comes out watery and wan. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “We’re just gonna talk.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you. 

Still, he follows you into the living room, takes a seat on the couch while you settle cross-legged on the ottoman across from him. A few seconds later, Jimin and Taehyung slink down the stairs. The tiger hybrid is clinging to his hyung who, for once, isn't smiling. Jimin’s face is settled into a cool mask of neutrality. You almost don’t recognize him. 

They sink into the couch on either side of Yoongi, their backs stiff and eyes on anything other than you. For a moment, the four of you sit there in uncomfortable silence. You speak first. 

“Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi-”

“Y/N,” Jimin cuts in, “Whatever Taehyung told you-”

“-I’m sorry.” You finish. That seems to surprise them. You interlock your fingers on your lap and look at each one of them individually. “I’m sorry that I didn’t check to see if there was food in the house last night. I’m sorry that I didn’t make sure you had the things you needed to feel comfortable here. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t allowed to leave.” 

Taehyung swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He’s got a death grip on Yoongi’s arm with one hand and the other fisted in the fabric of his sweatpants. “You...You’re not mad?” The tremor in his voice makes your heart ache. 

“No,” you tell him with all the sincerity in the world. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sad that you were ever around someone who made you feel like you needed to apologize for wanting to see the sun and I’m angry that they made you think that was something to be punished for.” It was true. Beneath your sadness, beneath your shock at his expectation of punishment, anger was twisting in your gut. What type of person would reduce another to fear and trembling for the sake of leaving the house? “I’m not going to...to punish you, I need you to know that.” You tell him, before looking at Jimin and Yoongi. “Any of you. Ever. I’m never gonna hurt you.” 

Taehyung’s jaw is clenched like he’s trying not to cry. All the wind has gone out of Jimin like a deflated sail and the leopard hybrid just looks exhausted. Yoongi’s rubbing soothing circles in both of their backs. You can’t tell from his face, but by the way his ears have relaxed, you think he was worried about your reaction, too. 

You let out a little exhale and slouch. “Whatever happened to you with your previous...the people you lived with before? It wasn’t okay.”  You’re as firm with it as you can be while still keeping your tone gentle. “They were supposed to take care of you and love you and help you grow, but if they starved you, if they made you feel this bad, if they treated you like property, then fuck them. I don’t want to be anything like them.” You admit. “I don’t want to be your owner and I don’t want you to be my pets.”

“What do you want us to be to you then?” Yoongi rasps. Despite the question, there’s no challenge in his voice. He’s genuinely asking. 

One corner of your mouth quirks up and you give him a small shrug. “Friends, maybe? Eventually, if we can. For now let’s try…” you search for the word you want. “Roommates?” You supply. “We live together, but you guys don’t need to feel like you owe me anything. I’ll get you phones tomorrow, if you want, and copies of the credit card. We can get you clothes and furniture too. And if there’s anything you want to do or want to see, go see it. The door code is 0613.”

The tension that’d run between the three hybrids like a livewire is gone. Now they’re...if not relaxed, then at least relieved. There’s nothing else to be said. You stand and move to hurry into the kitchen so the trio of hybrids can have their space. The last thing you wanted to do after having a talk about their freedoms was crowd them. Before you can take three steps there’s a hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place. It's Taehyung's. 

The tiger hybrid is looking up at you, his eyes beseeching and a nervous tremble in his bottom lip. “Don’t go,” he croaks, sounding like he’s still unsure just how to use his voice. He tugs once on your coat sleeve. “Please.”

Your eyes flick from him to his hyungs. Jimin’s looking at you with apprehension, perched on the edge of the couch like he’s a split second away from helping the tiger hybrid drag you down- but Yoongi’s face is turned away from you. As usual, you can’t tell what he’s feeling. “I’m just going to the kitchen,” you assure him. “I’ve gotta put the food away-” Your brain short circuits as the tiger hybrid flips your hand over and presses his face to your palm. His eyelashes brush against your lifeline; his lips trace the veins in your wrist. 

You’d never say it outloud, but it was hard to deny you were touch starved. You could count on one hand the amount of times someone had touched you gently since your mother died. You didn’t show yourself kindness most days and you’d come not to expect it from others. The world was cold and cruel, and you were far too old to be seeking solace from strangers. You’d thought you were above it, but the feeling of Taehyung nipping at your radial artery is almost enough to make you go to pieces. “Just a little bit,” he huffs, his voice muffled against your skin. 

“...The groceries will get warm,” you argue, finally managing to make your mouth move. “Do you wanna eat hot kimchi?” 

“I’ll put them away.” Yoongi is up and vaulting over the couch before you can get a word in edgewise. With him gone the last of your excuses goes up in smoke. Taehyung smiles against your skin and you let yourself be pulled down.

No sooner have your legs touched the cushion, then Taehyung is snuggled up against your side, his arms wrapped loosely around your middle and the cool tip of his nose pressed into your neck. “Tell me again,” he murmurs softly. “Can you tell me again that you’re not mad?” He wanted reassurance. The least you could do was give it to him.

You slip a hand into his hair, scratch gently at the base of his ears. He chuffs happily, the sound vibrating in his chest as he presses closer to you. “I’m not mad at you, and you’re not in trouble, buddy.” You tell him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

A warm presence on your left tells you Jimin’s settled in beside you. Sure enough, a second later a golden tail is tracing the edge of your calf. “Don’t leave me out,” he purrs, settling his chin on your shoulder.

You slide a hand into his hair too, letting the locks slip through your fingers as you pet him. “Never.”

The three of you stay like that for what feels like an hour. Even when their hyung finishes putting the groceries away and returns to sit with them -albeit at the far end of the sectional- they don’t seem like they’re in a hurry to disentangle themselves from you. You’re surprised to find you don’t mind it. The weight of two grown men against your shoulders was heavy, but not uncomfortable and they were warm and the steady hum of Jimin purring is almost enough to lull you to sleep. You cut a movie on and order samgyeopsal. You think they’re gonna kill the delivery man for making you get up, and they stay glued to your back even as you pay. It’s not until the first movie goes off and Taehyung and Jimin are playfully bickering over what to watch next that you’re able to slip away to the bathroom.

You shuffle quickly down the wide hallway, trying to remember which door the closest bathroom lay behind. You careen around a corner and run smack into someone. They let out a huff and you stumble back a few steps, an apology on your lips. You look up and find Yokngi there. Guilt bubbles up in your stomach. Between Jimin purring in your ear and Taehyung rubbing his cheek against your hand every ten seconds, you hadn’t even noticed he was gone. “Sorry,” you mumble. 

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “For what?”

You’re not even sure you know.

He stares at you and you stare back, frozen. Finally, the bobcat hybrid sighs and gestures at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles. 

You approach hesitantly, not trusting him to not suddenly snap at you. “Why?” You ask, apprehensive. Should you have not let Taehyung and Jimin scent you? He’d been around the entire time and hadn’t said anything, so you’d thought it was fine. Maybe you’d made a mistake. You gnaw at your bottom lip and creep slowly closer to the hybrid before you. Another miscalculation, another mess-up, another mile tacked on to that incalculable distance between you and Yoongi. Should you apologize again? Would taking a shower help wash their scents away?

Before you can volunteer to do any of that, Yoongi reaches forward, hooks one finger through your belt loop and drags you toward him. You feel a yelp crawling up your throat, but it’s stopped dead in its tracks by the feeling of Yoongi cradling your jaw and his lips pressed against the column of your throat. His spine is tense and his tail is ticking in the way it does when he’s irritated. “...What are you-?”

“They’ve both scented you.” He murmurs. “If I don’t, they’ll think I’m rejecting you. My job as their hyung is to put them at ease. If I can’t do that, I’m useless.” Despite his closeness, despite the way his fingers were slipping into the hair at the base of your skull, despite the little nips he’d started giving you, you could practically feel his reluctance.

You exhale and push against his shoulders. “Yoongi…” He doesn’t budge. “Hey-”

“There’s no good reason for me to not just mark you and get it over with.” There was that word again. You’d forgotten about it in the whirlwind that followed, but Jimin had joked about marking you earlier, hadn’t he? And Yoongi’d gotten upset with him. From what you were gathering, it was a lot more serious than scenting. 

“I don’t want you to.” That gets his attention. The hybrid pulls away and fixes you with an odd look, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you talking about? Owners always want us to mark them.” You feel that same twinge of anger again. The articles had said scenting was a sign of trust and security. It was used to mark family members. Had the people they’d been with before forced their way into their family without the hybrids consent? Without Yoongi’s? No wonder he’d been touchy about his juniors scenting you right away.

“Well, I don’t.” You give him a gentle nudge and put a few inches between the two of you. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with or not ready for.” You offer him a smile you hope comes across as reassuring. “You not wanting to is a good enough reason for me. Besides,” you say, turning to head back to the living room, the original reason for your trip forgotten. “I’ve never been marked before, so it’s not like i’m missing out on anything.”

At that, something flashes in Yoongi’s eyes that you have no name for. It passes as soon as it’d come. “Come back when you’re ready!” You call over your shoulder, retreating back down the corridor before he can say something one way or another. 

When you settle back on to the couch two minutes later, There’s a movie queued up and ready to be played. It’s an action movie, one you haven’t seen before. “Yoongi’ll be back in a second,” you tell the boys. “Let’s wait for him.” 

Taehyung hums his ascent, leaning in to settle back in the crook of your neck- but something stops him. He hovers near your neck, takes a few short inhales and tosses a look at Jimin behind your back. You frown. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah!” Taehyung responds a bit too quickly, lacing your fingers together to distract you as Jimin gives the other side of your neck the same treatment. The leopard hybrid purrs, seemingly happy at what he’s found. His ears swivel up and a second later, Yoongi slinks back into the living room. 

“Hyung…” Jimin starts, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“Play the movie.” His hyung orders. He does, but there’s still a little smirk on his lips.

The screen darkens and the opening credits roll as Taehyung and Jimin settle back against your side, careful to avoid your neck. Yoongi drops onto the couch, this time only a foot away from the three of you. You allow yourself a little spark of relief. The distance was starting to close.

[parkers-gal]

why T.H.

wc: 6k (angst)

jerk!tom makes an appearance

You were angry, that was for sure. Tom knew why, it was his fault after all, but he'd never admit it. He would never 'man up' to you and just apologize like he should. At least, not when he should, but he would later, when the damage was already done and set in.

Truth be told, you were furious. How could he do that when he promised not to? You were more hurt than angry, if you were being honest. You didn't want to be the 'mother' but quite frankly, you were disappointed too.

It was your dream to own a bakery, but a bakery in London was something to get your hopes up. Dreaming big never ended well for you in the past, but after years of working your ass off, you had managed to achieve something you had wanted since you were young.

Your bakery, Flour Before Frosting, also happened to be where you met Tom, your boyfriend of almost 18 months. He had walked in one day, charming with a dashing smile, and asked for "your best made velvets, frosted with your number." You remember that day vividly, for it was one of the many times Tom would drop by before eventually taking you out and officially making you his girlfriend. Eight months and 17 days later, you moved out of your crappy flat and into his house (though it really just made things easier because you were already over every night).

You were in your shared bedroom, writing down new plans for how to decorate your bakery for the holidays.

"Hey, babe!" Tom called.

"In here, Tom," you yelled back.

"Oh- hey, luv. Got an old friend visiting next week, so I won't be by for our Wednesday lunch plans," he informed you.

"Oh, okay. Do you want some cupcakes and tea? Gonna have a new batch on Tuesday, fresh with new tea that Jackson just got. I think he made it- anyways, he gave me a sample a few weeks and I absolutely loved it. I think you'll like it too, it's just right for you." You rambled, and Tom laughed and shook his head at you.

"Yeah, darling. I'd love some cupcakes for my guest, gonna have to show off your amazing skills, aren't I?"

You blushed, waving your hand in the air as a hint for him to leave so he would stop flustering you. He ran over to kiss your cheek, leaving a Hershey kiss on your desk before yelling out that he'd be at the gym with Harrison for the next two hours.

Wednesday had come by, and you were on a lunch break, leaving Jackson in charge before heading to your favorite café for coffee and some light reading, and maybe even more planning. Heading in, you ordered and sat down in a booth. The door chime rung, making you look up from your papers and notebooks you had spread out to start your organizing. Tom, and what must've been his friend, walked in. You smiled as they went to the side of the restaurant with the small library of old, vintage books. They were facing away from you, sitting side by side in the angled lounge chairs. You were about to go over to and say 'hi' but your waitress came by with your coffee, so you stayed seated and went back to your work.

You saw Tom with the Tupperware box you gave him, enclosed with the small lunch note you always wrote him. He opened the box, giving a cupcake to the man talking to him (you were right in earshot), before reaching in for his, and the note. Before he got the chance to even look at it, his friend spoke up, frosting on his upper lip.

"You said these were made by a friend? This is fucking disgusting. Is it chocolate or..? Damn, ew, is this frosting healthy?" he laughed.

Tom nodded along, "I, uh, honestly couldn't uhm.." he trailed off, his friend looking at him with a confused expression, expectantly thinking for Tom to agree with him. "Yeah, man, I don't really fucking know."

His friend took another small nibble before playfully gagging, and looking at Tom while he bit into it for the first time. Tom reacted in the same way, 'gagging', to agree with his friend, before putting it on the table with his friend's cupcake.

"Who made that? Certainly wasn't Gordon Ramsey."

At this, Tom laughed. Whether he thought it was funny, or if he was just trying to ease the tension, you couldn't tell. You were too busy blinking tears away.

"You said you had tea?" he questioned Tom. Tom nodded. "Good, need something to wash away that disgusting thing people call a cupcake."

You cringed, turning your head to the side with squinted eyes because you truly couldn't sit there and listen to what someone thought was wrong with your life's work.

Tom didn't reply, just getting the tea in the thermoses in his bag, handing one to his friend while opening his. You were contemplating on if his lack of response was a good thing. On one hand, he wasn't completely encouraging the hate you were getting, but on the other hand, he didn't stick up for you either. Right now, that was all you could think about. But then, everything slipped your mind when both boys tried the tea you had specially made (early, for it wasn't to be sold in your shop for about another month) just for them.

Tom opened his thermos, smiling when he took a sniff at it, because you were right. It smelt like something he would love. His friend, however, would not agree. Taking one sip, he was just as rude about it as he was with the cupcake, going as far as spitting it back into the thermos.

He got up, taking both cupcakes with him, and dumped the thermos out in the trash can, the cupcakes following not long after. He sat down next to Tom, shaking his head with a coy grin before speaking.

"Next time, let's get Chinese or something," he laughed, Tom nodding along with him before slipping both thermoses back into his bag, dropping your note in the process. Before he got to pick it up, his friend crumpled it up and threw it towards the trash can, laughing probably a little too loudly about it. You were certain he knew it was a note from Tom's girlfriend. 

You were still for five minutes, stunned. Ultimately, you decided to cut your lunch break short, packing up your stuff as quickly as possible, leaving a tip and rushing out, your back to the boys.

You had yet to bring anything up, though you weren't noticeably acting different around Tom. But when he mentioned the next week that his 'old friend' wanted to "eat dinner and get drunk" you were hesitant. You hoped this 'friend' was temporary, because the effects were already starting to show, and you didn't like what they were.

Tom didn't tell you when he'd be out with, Andrew, he said his name was? but you didn't think it would be the immediate week after the cupcake incident.

You were sitting on the kitchen stool, jotting down ideas for your shop when he came in.

"Oh, Y/N! Andrew and I decided to go out this Friday, said something about clubbing or shit. Anyways, he said don't expect me home early, but I might sneak away if he's drunk enough," he said, rather quickly, for while he was talking, he was filling a water bottle and grabbing some fruit.

"Wait, this Friday? I thought we-"

"Thanks, Y/N! Gotta head out," he was practically yelling, running to kiss you on the cheek before racing out and slamming the door shut.

Did he mean this Friday? His only day off for the rest of the month, the one where you two planned a film night, with take away and late night talks and star walks in the park?

It was only eight o'clock on a Wednesday morning, your late opening day, but you decided to head in early. Walking in, Jackson had already opened for you, being the gentleman he is, just setting up for the day, knowing you didn't want to walk in to a store full of customers without being there. He was sitting at a window table with his boyfriend, Jeremy, giggling and eating a muffin. When the door chime rung, he looked up, his boyfriend turning around to smile and wave while Jackson was coming towards you.

"Hey, Y/N! We're a little short on shortbread today," he laughed at his pun, "so I put in a new batch about 20 minutes ago. The chalk board is set up and the cappuccino machine is on-" he was about to turn away before he stopped abruptly. "Oh! And Tom stopped by while I was in the back. Jeremy said that he wanted you to know something about not eating cupcakes for this new diet? I don't know, he mentioned something about Anthony telling him about some diet that would help fo-"

"Andrew!" Jeremy cut in from behind, correcting him.

"Right, Andrew told him it would help for his job. So he said to stop making his weekly order."

"Oh," you weren't quite sure what you could say. Thank you? What the fuck? It was all jumbled into your brain too fast. "Thank you, J. Well, guess we should open shop for the day." With that, you worked until seven-thirty, an hour later than you usually would.

Arriving home, you walked in and set your bag down, heading for the kitchen to get water. Mid-drink, Tom walked in.

"Why are you home so late?"

You swallowed, placing the cup down, "I was working," you deadpanned, maneuvering around him so your shoulder wouldn't hit his on your way out. He followed you into the living room.

"It's almost 8!"

"Yeah? I don't know what you want me to say, Tommy. I'm sorry? I'll tell you what you want to hear, but that doesn't mean I mean it. "

He was silent for a second, laughing slightly, seemingly letting it go. You weren't joking, but you didn't want to argue, yet. "Right," he laughed again, "Sorry. I did want to talk to you though."

"We are talking."

"Smartass," he joked. You giggled slightly. "I've got to go back to press next week. I leave on Tuesday." You stopped laughing. 

"For how long?"

"I'm always gonna be away for the same amount of time, Y/N, you know that. I'll be back mid October." 

October? It was only the beginning of April.

"Well, I'll be back in London for a few days in July so you'll have that. Press ends around September, but I need to finish up Chaos Walking. I'll be here for Halloween though," he smiled encouragingly.

You nodded. "Okay.. do great things, Tommy," you always told him.

Friday rolled around, and you you were going to close the shop early for your night with Tom, but he was going out, so your plans were out the window. Instead, [your best friend] would be coming over at around eight. Tom would be gone by that time, right?

It didn't matter, because he wasn't even home when you got back from work. It was barely seven, you two usually had dinner together. Well, not this past week because he had plans with Harrison, and his brothers, and Andrew, and Tuwaine...and practically everyone else. Seeing as you had about an hour, you decided to shower, changing into some casual clothes. Tom was going clubbing... he wouldn't be back before 4 A.M., right? You didn't care, [your best friend] would spend the night anyways. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

You were wearing a cute tank, your favorite sleepwear, and some loose sweat pants. You were drying your hair with a towel when the doorbell rang. It rang again, so with the towel in your hand you ran down the stairs, yelling, "just a second," but it rang again. You swung the door open, confused, because [your best friend] always came in unannounced because you two were completely comfortable with each other. Instead, you were met with the boy from the cafe, Andrew. You looked around, and saw Tom's car parked by the curb, Tom waiting in the driver's seat while talking to someone in the back.

"Hey, Tom texted you or- whatever. We're going clubbing, can you get his stuff?"

"Uhm.. stuff?"

"Yeah.. he said you'd put his stuff inna backpack so he could get ready at my place," he answered confidently, as if you knew about this.

"I'm- uh, sorry? I don't have anything," you answered.

"What?" his eyes were wide with annoyance and disbelief.

The car honked, and Andrew turned around, shrugging his shoulder and mouthing something to Tom, before Tom came out and up to you.

"Didn't you get my text, Y/N? About the stuff sitting on my dresser?" he asked, straight up without so much as a 'hello' or 'how're you?'.

"No, I- no. No I didn't get your text, Tom."

"Well-"

"Well?" you interrupted.

"Thanks for, nothing I guess," he responded, moving past you and into the house to retrieve his things. Once again, you were left with Andrew on your porch, only this time he was eyeing you up and down, winking at you before yelling to Tom and going back to the car, Tom following not long after. This time, he didn't even bother saying goodbye on his way out. Just as they drove off, [your best friend] walked up.

"What the hell was that?" she shrieked.

"What?"

"That whole, 'thanks for nothing' bullshit. What kind of boyfriend thinks he can say that to his girlfriend?!"

You started heading in, taking one of her bags with you as she followed you inside. Placing her things down, you turned around, giving her a bear hug which she gladly returned.

"It wasn't that bad. Besides, he's been worse this week," you explained.

She was silent for a moment, shaking her head before talking. "Okay, I see why you called for a girl's night on such short notice. C'mon, lets get changed into some pajamas and get the snacks ready. It's been far too long since we've had actual time with each other," she gave you a sentimental smile, soft and sweet. You nodded, already planning on what to get and where to make the fort of blankets you already knew she wanted.

About half an hour later, she was in comfortable clothes, and you were in the kitchen making hot chocolate, getting chips and dip and pretzels and candy and everything in between. You had both decided to use the guest bedroom, which was accompanied with it's own bathroom. The room was probably a little smaller than the master bedroom, which was normal, but the bathroom was more expensive than yours. Plus, this one was used when the boys came over, so the Xbox, all the video games, movies, and the music equipment was here. Even with all this expensive stuff, the room was still as big as ever, so putting a fort in front of the bed barely took up any space.

You had to make at least three trips for all the food and stuff you were bringing, and because this was a guest bedroom, it had a mini refrigerator. Both of you decided to keep it pg-13, no alcohol or rated-R movies. Tonight, it was a Disney marathon with hot cocoa. At around 11:30, you had just finished your third movie, Beauty and the Beast, when [your best friend] stopped the ending credits and turned to you.

"Before we watch anything else," she turned to you while you did the same, "let's talk. We can fall asleep watching Disney, but we can't fall asleep and keep talking," you interrupted her, laughing, before nodding away. "So.. what's going on? With Tom, I mean, because you mentioned that he was worse earlier this week than he was today, and tonight he was pretty nasty so I mean- yeah, what else has he done?"

You paused, looking down and sighing, giving in. "Well, it started with Andrew, some 'old friend' he wanted to catch up with. I gave Tom some cupcakes and tea from the shop to eat with him. I was on my lunch break when the boys came into the same cafe and started eating. They didn't like it and- well.. they sorta threw it out after gagging about it," you said. Her eyes went wide. "I don't know, [best friend's nickname], I mean at first I was stunned, hurt obviously because it seemed to be on purpose because Tom knows I always go to that cafe on my lunch break. Is it a coincidence that he came to the same cafe at the exact same time I have my lunch break?"

You went on to explain how Tom had cancelled two dinner dates and a movie night within the past two weeks, and that he was going clubbing without inviting you, cancelling his weekly cupcake order and calling you clingy after you texted him about making sure he ate dinner. Not to mention he only just mentioned him leaving next week on a press tour, and spending his only day off with Andrew even though you two had planned spending that day together for a month.

By the time you were done listing off all the reasons, you were sobbing into [your best friend's] chest, trying to catch your breath. It was too late though, because Tom wasn't here and the events leading up to an attack like this could have only been noticed by him, seeing as [your best friend] wasn't here to see them herself. You couldn't hear anything, your pounding heart being the only thing filling your ears. [Your best friend's] attempt to calm you down wasn't working, resorting to the breathing exercises which were slowly drowned out. You could't even get a breath in. The realization hit you: if you didn't take control, you would faint. You had never had an attack this intense in at least four months, so everything needed to help you would take too long to get.

You gripped her arm, unable to focus on anything except for the fact that you were going to faint.

"I'm here, Y/N, I'm right here. It's going to be okay, right? We're gonna work things out. Yeah? Everything's gonna be alright. We're gonna be alright. We'll be alright," she cooed.

You blacked out, only for about two minutes, but you did. When you woke, you sobbed again, finding a steady breath before completely crushing [your best friend] with a hug, gripping her tightly.

"Thank you," you whispered.

She got you settled, convincing you to snack lightly before brushing your teeth, making sure you drank water. The fort was ready, untouched since your movie marathon, so you both climbed in and fell asleep watching Disney.

Four hours later, it was four o'clock in the morning, and the front door slammed shut.

"Y/N!" Tom slurred, dragging out the last syllable of your name. "Y/N!" he repeated, the same way but louder. "Where the fu-! OH! OW!" he screamed.

You and [your best friend] were already starting to sit up, confusion spreading across your faces before she got up, following her directly after. She opened the bedroom the door, and you stepped out, making your way down the stairs and seeing Tom sitting on the ground, missing a shoe with a rip on his shirt sleeve.

"There you are! I wus at the club a-and Andrew and I were hanging out and he took home some girl- he said if he was getting laid that I should come home and get laid by my lame-ass girlfriend, so come here! Fuck me!" he slurred, talking too loudly for your liking.

"Did you just call her a lame-"

"Tom, you're drunk. Go to bed," you cut her off, knowing how protective she would get. Honestly, you wanted her to scream and shout and yell at him, and you wanted to join her. But if you were going to, you wanted him to be completely sober so the guilt would really sink in.

"No wonder you're a lame-ass," he muttered.

"What was that?" [your best friend] yelled.

"Nothing! I'm going up to bed, see?" He looked at both of you before running up the stairs like a kid.

You both stood there, a little hesitant, before going up the stairs, talking on your way.

"Y/N, I swear if you hit him, you better knock some sense into him because that boy is so ridiculously stupid and undeserving of your love."

You laughed, growing quiet because you were beginning to think she was right. 

The next morning, you and [your best friend] got up at nine to make pancakes and bacon, your usual sleepover breakfast. The speaker was playing One Direction, both of you singing and slightly dancing when Tom came downstairs, disheveled and hungover.

It was Saturday, his last Saturday with you, but it had taken him too long to get interested in hanging out with his girlfriend. "Hey, Y/N. Wanna do something today?" he asked.

[Your best friend] looked at you, but you had already made up your mind. "Sorry, Tom, [your best friend] and I are going shopping together. Next time, though,"  you said, before putting your dishes in the sink and slipping out of the room, [your best friend] following you out.

That night, you and your best friend departed ways, telling her you'd call and let her know when she could come over again. You got home, and decided to put your new things in the guest bedroom, because your clothes from last night were still there. The mess, luckily, was cleaned up thanks to [your best friend], who convinced you to help with the cleanup.

It was nearly ten-thirty by the time you got situated. You were in a new set of pajamas, sitting in front of the tele in the guest bedroom on the floor, looking at all the new things you bought. You found this super cute sweater, and a pair of jeans [your best friend] insisted on buying for you. You also found a pair of shoes to go with an outfit you had planned in your head; it was perfect. People say your looks shouldn't matter, but you felt good when you looked good, so you loved fashion. Overall, you and [your best friend] must have spent at least $800.

At around 11, you heard footsteps running around the house, before Tom came into the guest bedroom.

"What're you doing in here? Aren't you gonna sleep in our room?" he looked worried.

You lowered the shirt you were looking at, making eye contact. You hesitated, "I- yeah... Yeah I guess."

"You guess?"

You just shook your head, trying to be playful with it, but ending up avoiding his gaze all together and going back to looking at your new things.

"Y/N?"

You looked up, "Yeah?"

He looked --  surprised almost? There seemed to be a glint of hurt in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked.

You nodded, getting up and setting the shirt back in its bag, "C'mon, lets just go to bed."

He mumbled an agreement, turning around and walking to your bedroom. You left the guest room, closing the door and going into your room. It was weird-- to even consider it your bedroom, because you hadn't slept in it for about three days. The last time you did, Tom wasn't with you. Was it normal? Did all couples go through things like this? You didn't have much time to dwell on the thought, because you were already under the covers, sleep consuming you before Tom got the chance to talk to you about anything.

It was almost noon when you woke up on Sunday. Rolling over, you felt Tom's side of the bed empty. The feeling of the cold sheets didn't come as a surprise to you, he was gone every time you woke up even though he didn't start filming until around 10 A.M. . It was different this time, because it was your last weekend together. He was always at home on the weekends he wasn't away filming. 

You pulled the covers off you, walking downstairs into the kitchen where you were met with Tom and Haz, quietly whispering things to each other. You didn't get to listen long, for both boys shot up and stood straighter, smiling to you. You just looked at them, slightly rolling your eyes before grabbing some juice and heading back into the guest bedroom.

When you came down ten minutes later for breakfast, both boys were talking normally again.

"Just talk to her, alright man?" Haz spoke.

"What am I supposed to say man? I can't just go up to my girlfriend and tell her I'm fucking pissed at how she's been ignoring me. Not gonna be rude like her-"

"Woah- woah woah, Tom. She's not that rude. Just have a civilized conversation with her. It's easy, you're just overthinking it."

"Okay.. okay, yeah- yeah," he stuttered, turning around on his heal but abruptly stopping when he saw you standing in the doorway. His jaw dropped, noticing your anger immediately.

"Maybe I should go-" Harrison started.

"No, no don't bother. I'll go, it's obvious you both want it."

You turned around, going up to Tom's bedroom and getting a change of clothes, immediately putting on your jeans and the rest of your outfit, before Tom came barging in.

"No- Y/N, I'm sorry. Please, let's talk," he begged.

You ignored him, getting some more clothes, enough to last you two days, before going into the bathroom for your makeup bag and some deodorant. Going back into the closet, you grabbed your work backpack, making sure all your notebooks and journals were in it, before shoving the things you had in to join them.

"Y/N, please. I-  listen to me, please. I'm sorry, let's just talk. Talk it through, yeah?" he asked.

You looked up, talking rather emotionless. "No. We can talk when we've both thought our shit through, although I thought it was only you who needed to get their shit together, but obviously I was wrong. I'll be back after work on Monday, if you're even here to notice." With that, you moved past him, grabbing your phone and texting [your best friend], picking up your keys from it's hook and heading for the door. Haz was standing in the living room, and when you passed him he gave you a sentimental look, but you payed no mind as you glared him down, opening the door and slamming it in Tom's face, for he was downstairs too late.

About 10 hours had passed since you left, and Tom had only thought about you for two of them. Andrew and 'the gang' had called him, insisting that him and Haz join them for some fun. Tom had reluctantly agreed, much to Harrison's dismay.

At around eleven o'clock, Tom had had enough 'fun'. The guilt in him was killing him, but his anger for you was killing him even more. Telling Haz he'd be heading out, he drove home, getting into bed and thinking about what you'd talk about when you got back.

Monday had passed, and you were doing better than you thought you would be. You opened shop about 30 minutes early that Monday morning, knowing it was better to keep yourself occupied. It was [your best friend's] week off, so she offered to come with you to work, and 'volunteer' almost. She had quite some experience in waitress-ing , so you gave her that job. Around noon, Tom came into the shop, and [your best friend] called out, "Incoming, [your nickname]."

You looked up from the cappuccino machine, turning around to face the door Tom had just entered. The minute you saw him coming towards you, you spoke. Luckily there weren't that many people around who didn't know you, so they didn't react when you yelled at Tom.

"Get out."

"I just wanted to-"

"Get OUT!" you yelled, louder when Tom didn't listen to you.

He moved forward, leaving a Hershey kiss near the cash register, looking to you for your reaction. You picked it up, and threw it to [your best friend], who unwrapped it and ate it herself. He left after she pointed towards the door.

When you closed shop, you decided to head home, seeing as he was leaving tomorrow and you had obviously thought a lot about what to do. The only option, really: talk it out.

Walking in, you placed your bag by the door and went to get some water in the kitchen. Tom was standing there, staring into space. He noticed you come in, and immediately stood up straighter, obviously becoming more aware of his surroundings.

"Are you- are we talking now?"

"I'm here, yeah. Let's talk," you answered setting your cup down.

"What's your problem?" he asked. You looked at him like he was crazy, so he went on. "I mean, these past few weeks, you've completely ignored me. And when you did acknowledge me, it was a rather rude encounter. "

"You think I'm rude?" he nodded, and you scoffed. "Well I'm sorry you think I'm rude. You wanna know what I think is rude?"

"Look, I'm sorry my being honest upset you. But nobody said the truth was nice," he interrupted.

"Tom, what the fuck?"

"I'm just saying! Out of the two of us, you're the one who has more problems!"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that you are always the one who cries over shit, and gets upset at little things," he answered. You looked at him in disbelief. "What I'm saying is you're over-dramatic and too sensitive."

"Oh for fuck's sake," you started. "You just- you just don't know when to quit, do you?"

"You said to talk! I'm talking!"

"You're being completely unreasonable."

"Am I? Because all you've talked about is how you think I'm crazy. Do you even have anything to say?"

"Fine! You want me to talk? I'll talk. I've been rude to you because you are the one who let that man you call a fucking friend insult my life's work. You completely agreed with him, took in my hate and didn't even stand up for me!" You yelled. Tom didn't know you knew about that, and he was about to interject but you kept going, "And to make things worse, you kept seeing him! Every single fucking week, it was 'Andrew said this!' 'Andrew said that!'. You cancelled dates to see him! Call me over-dramatic, but when your boyfriend cancels a date on his only day off, I think most girls would be pretty fucking pissed," you walked out of the kitchen.

Tom was in the living room too, following you. "Yeah, well I'm sorry I cancelled our plans, but we live together. Don't you think we see enough of each other because of that?"

"Wha- what?"

"Think about it! We see each other all time because we live together," he reasoned.

"Yeah, I guess you're right,"

"See-"

"If you were ever around, I would see you a lot. But you're never around, so no, Tom, we don't see each other a lot. I work too, remember!"

"Not like I do," he mumbled.

"What?" you yelled.

"Nothing."

"No, Tommy. If you have something to say, you better fucking say it or so help me-"

"I said 'not like I do'!"

"What? Because I'm not some movie star with his head up his ass, I don't work hard?"

"My head's not in my ass, yours is! All I wanted to do was talk things out, not get fucking blamed for things that aren't my fault!"

"Yeah? Well all I wanted was someone better," you quipped back.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"What have I done wrong! Please, enlighten me! All you've done is complain about the stupidest things!"

"So my feelings are stupid, now?"

"Did I fucking say they were?" he yelled, voice raising as he stepped closer.

"Sounded like it to me!" you yelled, raising your voice to meet his.

"Just tell me! Do you have anything else to say?"

"You- you really are stupid, Tom."

"No, Y/N. I'm not. You are, not even telling me why you're so fucking angry at me."

"I'm angry because I had my first attack in months because of you. You! The person who told me he'd always be there to help me through one, not cause one. I'm angry because you go out without even bothering to ask if I'd like to join you. A-And then you just throw it at me that you're leaving for, what? Seven months?!  Not to mention you completely stopped eating things from my shop because of a so-called diet? And you're off with that Andrew guy, who eyed me like a pervert even though he knows I'm taken. You know how uncomfortable I am with that! And don't you dare say you didn't know, when you're the one coming home drunk telling me he's picked up another girl and telling you that you should go home and get laid too. God knows you'd listen to him if he asked you to cheat on me. Not to mention how you called me fucking clingy because I was checking up on you. You want me to stop making sure you're okay? You want me to stop caring?" you screamed. "Because you say the words and I will fucking back off for good. "

He was silent for a second, only missing a beat, contemplating on if he should apologize or keep fighting. Because he didn't want you to be angry, but he wanted to win. He needed to win. "Yeah, I wish you would back the fuck off. You're always on me!" he screamed. "And I get wanting to be affectionate, but you're just fucking sickening. Too much love."

That made you stop. "You think I'm loving you too much?" you asked quietly, and Tom looked at you, really looked at you, after hearing the change in your voice. You were quiet, practically whispering now. It wavered slightly, your eyes were glossy and red.

"I- I didn't-" he started, but it was no use. The damage was done.

He knew better than anyone about your past, which had caused a massive buildup in insecurities that were inevitably killing you. When you met Tom, he had promised to discard each and every one of your insecurities until you loved yourself as much as he did.

"No, you did. And you fucking know it." You were walking upstairs, getting yet another bag ready to last you until Tom left for his press tour.

"No, no Y/N, I'm sorry. Listen to me, baby. I didn't mean it," he begged.

"You wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean it," you said, choosing a few shirts to shove into your backpack. "Your intentions were pretty clear, Tommy. I'll stop caring for you, stop putting in effort for this toxic relationship. I'll stop loving you, because right now, it seems like loving you is the one thing wrong with me," you said, finding some pants and your makeup bag.

You were making your way downstairs now, "Y/N, Y/N please. Please I need you. I can't leave us like this- not when I leave tomorrow."

"What 'us,' Tom? There is no 'us' anymore."

"What're you saying?" he asked, tears finally falling from his face.

"I'm saying it's time I move on from you. Moving on means not having you. So, we're done," you opened the front door.

Tom stood in the doorway while you gripped the handle. "So- we- we're.."

"I'll be out before you come in July," you filled in. With that you slammed the door, driving to [your best friend's] house, while Tom sobbed on the floor in what used to be a home of two people who loved each other.

[death-fears-by-deaf-ears]

swan lake || t.h.

pairing: tom holland x reader

summary: you can't stand tom holland, the guy in your ballet ensemble. But when you two get the roles of Odette and the prince, you two will have to put your differences aside and learn to work with each other.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: language

chapter one

Not again.

This was starting to become a recurring theme - it was Monday and your bus had just left without you. You mumbled profanities under your breath, your duffle bag slung across your shoulder. Frustrated you slumped against a street lantern, when you felt the first drops of rain on your skin. You let out a groan of anger and pulled your hood up over your head, cursing yourself for staying up too late last night. But because you anticipated this, you had already put on your leotard and tights on at home, so when you got to class you’d only have to strip your clothes and start your warm up.

Last week you had gotten whacked on the head with a newspaper for being that late, but with a little bit of luck you wouldn’t have to endure that today.

When you arrived in the ballet studio almost an hour later you were soaked and freezing. You ran through the halls of the studio, already in the process of taking off your jacket and shirt, revealing your dancing clothes underneath. Three minutes left to go.

Your usual locker was already occupied, making you rush to the next best one, ripping the door open, throwing all your clothes in there and only taking your training ballerinas out and slamming the door shut. You had done your hair in the bus already, so it was in a low tight knot. You put your shoes on, running toward the door. One minute left.

“How kind of you to join us today on time,” Sophie, your dance teacher said, following you with her eyes as you took your position. Everyone in the room was staring at you and you could feel their looks drilling in your back. Tom next to you was bowing his head down, obviously trying to hide his laughter. You shot him a poisonous look, rage as well as embarrassment burned inside you. Tom had a special power of making your anger levels go from 0 to 100.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” you said, your face running hot.

“Let’s start with the warm up, shall we?”

“Why is everyone whispering and staring at me,” you whispered through gritted teeth to your friend Hannah, who was helping you stretch. “Ouch!”

“Loosen up,” Hannah whispered, pulling you even closer to her. You were sitting in front of each other on the floor, pushing the others’ legs out. “Haven’t you seen the role sheet today?”

“Fuck,” you whispered, partially because of the stretch, but also because you had forgotten that today the roles for the upcoming show were published. You must’ve not seen the sheet in the locker rooms. “What role did I get?”

Hannah shook her head as you pulled her towards you, adjusting her pose. “You got the role of Odette.”

You immediately let go of Hannah, slapping your hand on your mouth, making her fall forward. You grabbed her shoulders. “I got the main role?” You whisper-screamed, trying your hardest not to get caught by Sophie. “Well, who is playing the prince?”

Hannah cringed and turned her gaze to the side, where a few of your colleagues were standing. Instead of stretching they were very obviously flirting with… Tom. He must’ve noticed you staring at him, as he turned his head and met your gaze. Both of you rolled your eyes as you turned away from each other. “You can’t be serious,” you said.

“I’m sorry,” Hannah huffed, sweat pearling on her dark forehead. “But hey, congrats on the role?”

You finished stretching and continued with your training, going through forms and positions, polishing your moves and getting scolded for flailing your arms too much. As you were approaching your first break, Sophie stepped towards you.

“We will begin with your training for Swan Lake today at 3, make sure to bring your pointe shoes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said, your heart fluttering at the idea of dancing to your favourite show. The fluttering quickly vanished when you noticed Sophie walking up towards Tom, telling him the same. So you’d already dance with him today.

You tried to shake the bad feeling and it mostly worked, since focusing on your dream always made things easier. Dancing and performing was a way for you to let go, to get completely lost in the story and think about nothing else. There wasn’t much in the world that could ruin that for you.

Oh how wrong you had been.

“I have never seen people with less chemistry than you two,” Sophie sighed. You have never heard her be this exasperated and desperate. “Do you two even dance? Are you really professional dancers? Where did your grace go, where did the love for dance go! Look each other in the eyes for God’s sake!”

“It’d be easier if you didn’t squeeze the hell out of me,” you spat through gritted teeth.

“It’d be easier if you weren’t this heavy,” Tom spat back, his face falling immediately after he realized what he had said.

You jumped out of his grip, staring in disbelief. “Well-” you stammered, not knowing what to retort. “How about you get a little stronger…”

Sophie whacked him with her newspaper over the head. “That is NOT something you say to a lady!” Tiny strands of hair were escaping her neat bun, making her look even more stressed than she was. “We’re finishing this part today and then you two can go home.”

“Sorry,” Tom mumbled under his breath.

“Save it,” you said, taking your start position. Kneeling down on the floor, Odette would wait for the prince to come and lift her up to start the dance with her. In the original the two would fall in love the minute they laid eyes on each other. You tried to do the choreography justice, although your dance partner made it incredibly difficult for you.

“Smile!” Sophie shouted, making you two put on fake plastic grins.

“I’ll spit on your face on stage,” you said through your grin as Tom lifted you up, making you look down on him.

"Do that and I'll rip your lashes off," he said softly while lowering you on the ground again.

You tried to continue the choreography without any incidents but you couldn't help but feel every step, every nudge to be executed with a hint of passive aggression. Tom basically let you fall on the ground instead of putting you down, you avoided each other's eyes, grabbed too harshly, turned too sharply.

"Alright," Sophie said after about four hours of it. "I can't watch this any longer. You both know the choreography, and that's all I can teach you for now. If you don't know how to be nice to each other, don't bother coming to me for help until you do. We'll work on the solos and the other dances first, until you two calmed down. Dismissed."

You slumped down on the floor, rubbing your face. You untied your shoes and took them off, throwing them in your bag. This was going to be hard.

“So how was it?” Hannah asked while the two of you sat on the studio floor.

As an answer you slammed your pointe shoes on the ground several times, breaking them in a way that made them comfortable for your foot. “Take a wild guess.”

She raised her eyebrows as she was sewing the elastic band into her shoe. “What did Sophie say?”

“She refuses to work with us anymore until we get it together,” you grumbled. You slammed your fist on the top of your shoe, softening the box. Suddenly the door opened, making you and Hannah turn your heads.

Tom was marching in the room, directly towards you.

“What the hell,” you mumbled, putting your shoe down and looking up at him as he stopped in front of you. “Can I help you?”

“Are you free today after class?”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him up and down and smirked. “Are you asking me out?”

Tom crossed his arms, not saying anything. His foot was tapping impatiently on the floor which was tiled with dancing tiles.

“Yeah, I am. See you then,” you said, rolling your eyes. You waved as a good bye, signalling him to leave you alone. You turned to Hannah. “He told me I was too heavy to lift.” “Excuse me?” You shrugged, taking the thread and the needle. Your friend slapped her hands on her thighs in exasperation. “What an ass.”

You finished sewing and breaking in your shoes while talking about anything other than Tom - mostly Hannah’s new date she was going to see that very day. It was nice talking about something else, preparing yourself for class. You could feel that today was going to be a slow one - you eased into your shoes, then into your stretches, and finally into your training, testing out the waters with your new footwear and getting more comfortable as the day progressed. Your mind was empty, completely free of oppressive and depressing thoughts. Your body moved in unison with the music, following the tides of the melody, back and forth seemingly weightless and freed of gravity.

Before you knew it afternoon rolled around and class finished. You packed your stuff, and settled down in the locker room to have some lunch and lie down, coming down from your training.

As always your lunch break went by way too fast. You stood up, shaking your limbs and grabbing your things to go back to the now empty studio. Tom was nowhere to be found, so you warmed quickly up on your own. Your body had cooled down a bit, and you didn’t want to pull a muscle or something, so you did a few squats, jumping jacks and push ups to get moving again. You took your position at the railing in front of the mirror, practicing positions and movements, taking your sweet time. The clock ticked in the back of the room, showing 3.16pm. Where the hell was Tom?

At that moment the door swung open.

“Took you long enough,” you said in an arabesque pose.

“Sorry,” he said, getting in and throwing his duffle bag in the corner of the room.

You put your foot down, looking at him properly. You raised your eyebrows at his childish demeanor. You were already annoyed by him. “Bad day?”

He plonked down on the floor and began to put on his shoes. “I just want this day to be over.”

“Well then cheer up, do you expect me to dance with an energy as bad as yours?”

He looked at you incredulously. “Can’t I be in a bad mood? Do I have to be all sunshine and daisies all the time?” His voice rose now, making you back away a little, but you weren’t having none of that. You had an idea.

“I just said to lose the fucking attitude,” you said, getting louder now as well.

“What if i don’t want to?! God, you’re annoying!”

You took a deep breath putting force in your voice. “Then scream it out, because I don’t want to deal with this!” His hands turned into fists, his eyes lighting up a tiny little bit at the memory your words just triggered. But he was still angry. “Fuck you!”

“No, fuck YOU!”

And without a cue you two just started wordlessly screaming in the other’s face, a prolonged and agonizing scream, throwing it all out. Dancing didn’t require vocal chords, so you had no qualms absolutely shredding yours. You didn’t know if anyone else was in the building, but you didn’t care.

As you two ran out of breath your shoulders slumped, moving heavily up and down as you gasped for air. The room was awfully quiet except for your breathing. Your bodies seemed to mirror each other, more in sync than when you tried to be. Destruction seemed to be more constructive to the relationship between you two than anything else.

You swallowed, standing up straight. “Can we start now?”

Again you were on the floor, folded over in your starting position. You had decided to train without music, so you jumped a little as Tom’s hands touched your wrists, softer than usual. He lifted you up off the floor, placing his hands on your waist. This dance wasn’t particularly difficult or demanding, but for it to work you need a prince who guides Odette just enough without gripping her too tight, and an Odette who knows how much to rely on the prince and how much on herself. There were a few hang ups here and there, but you danced through the whole routine without saying anything once, enjoying the flow of your movements. The dance was still clinical, mostly about getting the order of the moves right. It ended with Tom lifting you up, and slowly lowering you down, and bringing your faces together, hinting at a kiss between you two. You still needed to work on that part.

“So,” he said as you jumped away as the dance ended. “With music this time?”

You nodded. “Maybe don’t grip me this tight when I do the pirouettes,” you said. You took a sip of water and put the bottle away. “I can basically do them on my own, just give me a quick spin and I’ll be able to do them faster.”

“Alright,” he said, getting into position. “But try to do your moves independently from me. It’ll make them look better.”

You folded over on the floor and waited for the music to start. When it started you closed your eyes for a second anticipating the touch on your wrists. Still it sent a jolt through you. “Softer,” you said as you did your pirouette, and the grip on your waist turned to a fleeting touch every few moments, accelerating your turns.

“Lean in properly,” Tom said as you leaned in his hands to the side to lift your leg. You did as told and managed to lift your leg even higher and with less effort. He lifted you by the waist, brows furrowed the slightest in concentration, turning in a circle. Your hands rested on his shoulders, eyes trained on him. You wondered if Odette really fell in love with the prince on sight.

The routine went smoother with each time you tried it, your movements dynamic and easy like a well oiled machine.

After a while you decided to call it a day, and after you awkwardly said your goodbyes, you went home. Suddenly you didn’t know how to act around him, everything you did felt clumsy and weird. You were used to being annoyed by him and just being generally mad at him. But now that you had to cooperate and put those things aside, what was left?

a.n.: this is the first chapter of maybe two or three, lmk what you think! this is the first time i post to tungle, be kind lmfao

[lady-salvatore]

Champagne Problems

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Desc.: Steve proposed to you, and you said no. It takes a week for the both of you to figure out why.

Warnings: angst, mentions of mental illness, female reader, happy ending :)

Notes: AHH so this is my first Marvel fic, please let me know what y’all think. 💖

Steve stared at that glittering diamond ring between his thumb and finger, staring at it as if somehow it had malfunctioned.

Or maybe he had.

He leaned back into the seat of the very empty train, your ‘no’ echoing in his head a thousand times over. He wondered if it was him, if he’d done something wrong— if that was why you wouldn’t marry him.

He guessed there’d been signs throughout the night. You were pensive, quiet. You didn’t want to dance. You weren’t smiling.

Steve wrote it off as nerves. You must’ve known what was coming, you were just anxious was all.

He thought it would all be fixed when he got down on one knee. He saw tears glimmering in your eyes and mistook them for happiness.

He was wrong.

In the chest pocket of Steve’s jacket (a suit he’d bought just for tonight) was his wallet. Inside was a picture of you, and it felt like that picture was going to burn a hole right through his chest.

You burst through the door of your apartment, slamming it behind you and leaning against it. Tears and mascara ran down your face as you tried to breathe against the constriction on your chest.

Your roommate and best friend, Wanda, came into the room with wide eyes. “(Y/N), what-“

“I said no,” you gasped helplessly for air. “I said no. He asked me to marry him and I said no.”

Wanda’s jaw fell open and her eyes filled with pity. She came over and wrapped you in her arms. “You’re freezing! And shaking...”

You sobbed against her shoulder as she guided you to sit down on the couch. “I don’t know what he even wanted with me in the first place. I’m too far gone— broken, or something.”

“You’re not broken,” Wanda said softly, petting your head. “You’re just not ready, that’s all.”

But what if you were never ready?

Suddenly, Wanda spoke again. “Vis, could you make some tea?”

“Of course, darling,” Vision said as he floated through Wanda’s door. “Do feel better, (Y/N).”

You nodded and through him a weak smile, not trusting yourself not to break out into tears again.

Steve had tried to call Bucky on his way to his apartment. He needed to talk to someone, tell someone what had happened. But Bucky never answered, so Steve was left to deal with this alone.

He unlocked his apartment door and stumbled inside, flicking on the light.

He heard a loud chorus of “surprise!” and the sound of a champagne bottle popping open. Steve looked around to see his friends gathered around the apartment, with party decorations and food and drinks.

Steve met Bucky’s eyes, and immediately Bucky’s eyes widened. He knew what had happened. He could read Steve like a book, and somehow Steve was grateful for that now. He would never have to tell him.

Slowly, the realization dawned over the room as they stared at Steve— alone, disheveled, eyes red from crying.

Natasha held the champagne bottle awkwardly in her hand. “What... what-“

“She said no,” Steve grumbled harshly. He stumbled past his friends and toward his bedroom. “Goodnight, everyone.”

He slammed the door to his room and felt the pain wash over him again.

You lied in your bed, staring up at the ceiling as waves of memories intruded your mind.

Steve always opened doors for you. Always, without fail. I know you can open your own doors, I’m just trying to be a gentleman.

And he handed you his jacket whenever you shivered. You never even asked for it. He would just wordlessly drape it over your shoulders, even when he was cold, too. It doesn’t matter if I’m cold, I’d rather have you be warm.

The way he talked about his friends like they were family. The way his blue eyes lit up when he saw you. The way his smiles seemed to be made just for you.

You loved Steve Rogers— hopelessly, effortlessly, always— so you had to protect him.

He didn’t know he was signing his life away to the will of your baggage. You knew how heavy that burden was.

You couldn’t let him carry it.

It had been a week. Steve’s finger had lingered over your number in his phone for days, too afraid to actually dial. He turned off his phone again as Natasha carried a box of Christmas lights past him.

It didn’t seem right— decorating the tower for Christmas without you here. Hanging the lights was your job.

Tony was doing it this year. But he didn’t hum as he strung them up. He didn’t smile when the lights came on.

He just stood joylessly on the ladder as he fiddled with the strings.

Natasha sighed and patted Steve on the shoulder when she noticed him sulking. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

“Maybe she’ll change her mind,” Bucky grumbled.

Steve looked at him quizzically. “You think?”

“Look, Cap,” Tony said from the ladder, “you can just find a new girlfriend. Easy peasy.”

“Excuse me?” Steve growled.

Tony smirked. “She was out of her mind anyway.”

“Watch your mouth, Stark,” Steve hissed as he jumped out of his chair. “(Y/N) isn’t crazy, and you don’t get to talk about her like that.”

He felt Bucky grab his shoulder. “Steve-“

“I’m fine,” he huffed, knowing he was far from fine. “(Y/N) wasn’t crazy. She was perfect. She is perfect.”

“I know,” Bucky whispered, patting him on the shoulder. But maybe you should move on.

Steve didn’t want to move on. Not ever. Not from you, and if he had to spend another seventy years fixing whatever it is that had happened between you, that’s what he’d do.

You were wrapped up in blankets on the couch, eyes red and sore from crying as you watched another sad movie.

You had barely moved in days. Losing Steve was like losing a part of yourself. No matter how good your reasons, no matter how far you distanced yourself from the pain of it all, it still hurt— always, always, always.

Steve Rogers was the best part of your life, and now he was gone. You knew that pain would never dull.

Your mind told you not to regret the decision. You were protecting him. He’d be better off without you.

But your heart was a traitor and missed Steve with every beat.

A knock sounded at the door. You got up to go get it, thinking Wanda had forgotten her key again.

Instead, you were faced with Steve, who looked just as horrible and heartbroken as you did.

His blue eyes met yours. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you responded weakly, feeling like you were about to curl up and die. “What are you-“

“What did I do?” he asked, eyes pleading. “(Y/N), I’m struggling here, because I just don’t know what I did wrong, and... just... what did I do?”

He thought it was his fault.

Your heart sank. “You didn’t do anything.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Then what happened?”

“You’re too good for me,” you whispered suddenly, tears flooding your face. “And you deserve better than me.”

“(Y/N), that’s not true-“

“It is.” You took a step away from the door, away from him. “It is. I’m messed up, Steve, and you and I both know it.”

“Don’t say that!” he said, stepping into the apartment. “If you’re not gonna marry me, that’s fine, but don’t you dare say it’s because you’re not good enough!”

“But I’m not!” you cried. “You deserve somebody better than me! You deserve somebody who won’t pull away when you want to dance! Somebody who isn’t gonna run away and leave you on that landing! Somebody who will say yes to you without hesitation, who isn’t afraid to love you! And I am not that person!”

“I don’t want that person!” he yelled back, eyes softening. “All I want is you. Isn’t that enough?”

Tears ran down your face and Steve wiped them away, pulling you into his embrace.

“Do you promise?” you whispered hoarsely through a sob. “Do you promise that I’m enough?”

“Always have been, always will be,” he whispered, smiling down at you softly. “And... if you’re not ready for marriage, we’ll wait. I’ll wait.”

You knew it then, that you wanted to marry Steve Rogers. With every fiber of your being, you loved him.

That night, you found the ring in his pocket and slipped it onto your finger. It was sized perfectly, as if it were meant to be there. You had no doubt in your mind that you and Steve were a perfect fit as well.

There would always be days when your mind got the better of you. Steve may have not been able to change that, but it was a little easier to carry the burden of your own darkness when Steve’s light was right there beside you.

Love was enough, and you had enough love for him to last forever.

[sunlightwoo]

Going High

☀︎ pairing: sunwoo x reader

☀︎ genre: summer fling au,  fluff, some angst, theme is kinda like the one that got away type of thing?

☀︎ wc: 1.7k

☀︎ plot: summer flings are meant to be flings, nothing more than what it should’ve been known for. however you somehow found yourself reminiscing all those times that you have encountered the red headed boy that always took your breath away at the beach house you find yourself going to whenever you wanted a breather from the hard life you endured.

☀︎ a/n: before i say anything else and forget, there is a section between the breaks that is all italicized and in quotes!! that’s just a long dialogue of sunwoo’s pov of their relationship from the cassette tape. secondly: i hope that you guys liked this piece even though i feel as though it wasn’t my best HOGSJNGshuo it was really fun writing this though and would like to thank @atbzkingdom​​ for hosting the lovely collab with the other amazing writers in it!! be sure to check out everyone’s works as well in the link to the collab masterlist!!

collab masterlist | my tbz masterlist

The smell of the salty beach air fills your nose as the sun is slowly setting in the scenery in front of your eyes, your own body slightly leaning against the railing that was underneath your arms on the balcony at your beach house. You think that this might be the one place that you could call your comfort space.

Memories of being in the exact spot over the years come to mind as you reminisced all of them, wondering how long it has been since you had last been here. Was it a year? Maybe three?

You decide to head back into your room when you notice something sticking out from the floorboard that you didn’t notice earlier. Walking over towards it, you looked to see that there was a box that was visibly hidden underneath the floorboard, making you lean down to take it out from the loose wood and bring it out to your lap.

Opening it up while sitting on the floor, you noticed the various polaroids and notes that were in there along with a cassette tape that was taped against the box. You looked at it in confusion, not knowing where it had originated from or what it could’ve contained but you assumed it had once belonged to you in the past.

Getting up to play it on the cassette player that was on your desk, you carefully inserted it and plugged in your headphones before pressing play, waiting for whatever audio to appear as you flipped through the familiar polaroids. Brinks of red paint your eyes as you wonder who the red headed male in the photos with you were, your mind looking for the answers that you had needed when suddenly a deep voice interrupts you from your thoughts.

“Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?”

Your eyes widened as it finally clicked in your head who it was, hearing the evident smirk in his voice mirroring the one that you were staring at in one of the polaroids. Kim Sunwoo, better known to be your first love, as you can recall clearly from your past memories. He was the one person that happened to be your escapist from the real world after the many times you sought out this house as your getaway from your family and school.

“By the time that you’re listening to this, it must’ve been a while then since I never told you about this tape.”

He was right.

The last time that you saw him was back in 2017, which was roughly four years from how much you could remember. That was your last year of college, and you could remember all of the days that you had spent with him, endless mornings and starry nights that you stayed up for and got away from the reality that you had faced when you left him.

You wonder if he was doing well without you, knowing that you were the one that left him first.

“I don’t think I’m doing okay without you, sweetheart,” His voice vibrates from a pitied chuckle that left his chest as you could feel your heart clench in your chest at how sad his smile must’ve been while recording this.

“You were asking a lot when you told me to wait for you when you’ve finally answered my question from that night. Do you still remember it?”

“Of course I do,” You say out loud as if he were with you right now to hear your response, and you were brought back to the last memories of him that year before you left him once again.

“I hated myself for it because of how much I had hurt you, Sunwoo.”

“I remember the first time that we had met at the beach house. You thought that I was an intruder, when I had only come over to welcome you into the area knowing that the previous owners of it happened to be your distant family members.

There were tales that they used to tell me before you had arrived, different praises and stories that made you seem as though you were a cold person that only kept their nose into a book for fun. However, I think it was that first night where you had proven me wrong by being the complete opposite of what I had assumed of you.

And I think that’s when I might’ve fallen in love with you.

From all the nights that we spent stargazing, to all the times we messed around in the early mornings of sunrise by slashing water at the shorelines, to the campfires with the boys that we’d whisper our secrets to… I think I knew that I had fallen in love with you that night when we kissed under the moonlight of a full moon… until you had asked me about playing a game.

The long game, sweetheart… I think that was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard from your mouth, considering you were, ya know, the smarter one. You knew that I loved you in that moment, and I think that was the reason why you pushed me away from getting even closer to you by wanting to keep in touch with you after you leave this time around.

Was it something that I shouldn’t have done?

You haven’t been here in over a year now, and I miss you, sweetheart. Maybe I should’ve just let you go and keep whatever we had a summer fling, but I can’t help but wonder if you ever felt the same sparks that I felt every time we came close with one another.

That’s my question to you, in which I just want to know the simple answer to.

I don’t care how long it may take to get your answer, whether it be months after hearing this, or a couple years. Hell you can be married already, and I’d rather just let it be told that it was just me that had felt all the highs and the warm feelings of being free whenever we were together.

You already know where to find me, Y/N… and I’ll be waiting there whenever you figure it out on your own terms.

The moment that you hear the sound of a click of the cassette player finally stopping, you realized that your cheeks were wet as you moved your hand back up to wipe the tears away from your face. You couldn’t tell when you started to cry, but you sat in your chair while staring at the sunset that was setting outside of your balcony, thinking about the available choices that you were given in the moment that you were in.

For one part of your heart, there was the fear of him just being a fling that scared you; the fact that he was the one person that you had always relied on every summer when you came to get relief and happened to be available at the time. However, you also pondered about how much love you had felt with him, knowing that you had never been able to find someone like him in the reality of your world that had loved you the way that he did, made you feel as though you were high on cloud nine the way that he had.

Getting up from your chair almost abruptly, you grabbed your phone and made your way out to the familiar cliffs that weren’t too far away from the beach house.  The entire time that you had speed walked over to them had been filled with nervous thoughts and many ways to come up with the right words to say if he were to be there.

You weren’t even sure if he was still going to be there in the first place, cause you felt as though you had waited for too long in order to find the answer to the question.

You make it to the cliffs and get a better view of the sunset that was behind the horizons of the ocean, eyes darting across the waters when footsteps are made from behind you. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you hoped that maybe you weren’t just hearing things; if the person that was close was actually him, you weren’t sure what to say to him because of the lump that was caught in your throat.

“It took you long enough to find your answer.” You hear the person say and turn around slowly to see him once again, this time a coat of black painting his hair as it was no longer the bright red you were used to.

There’s a breath that escapes from your lips as you stare at him in a feeling that was similar to relief with the way that he stood in front of you with his hands in his jean pockets. Clad in a simple white tee like you remember seeing before in your polaroids, the small smirk that was so familiar to your heart and eyes was still painted across his lips as he raises an eyebrow at your somewhat disheveled figure.

“Am I too late?” You whisper, watching as he walks over towards you with an amused look and takes your hands into his before placing a chaste kiss on them and then on your lips slightly, making you relish in the memories of you kissing him all those years ago.

He pulls away slightly, eyes bored right into yours as the loud pounding in your chest was evident from how fast your heart was beating, and you had a feeling that he was able to feel it too. However, you were somewhat elated that he was here in front of you again, ready to hear your answer after years of waiting and you wonder if he’d still keep those same feelings just as you did for him.

“Not one second later,” He grins as he held a pinky up in front of you both with a teasing grin on his face just seconds before looping it with your own, “Are we finally done playing the long game?”

“Yeah… We’re finished playing, and my answer is that I love you too.”

[swan-of-sunrise]

The Winter Soldier (Chapter Five)

Summary: (Y/N) and Sam are visited by Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, and the novelist makes a life-altering decision.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Brief discussion of PTSD

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Five (Previous Chapter)

Yawning loudly into her hand, (Y/N) poured some milk into her bowl of chocolate Cheerios, grabbed a spoon and sat on a stool at the kitchen counter. She turned on her laptop and began reading through the day’s top news headlines while she ate her breakfast; thankfully, it appeared that the manhunt for Captain America was still going on, which meant that S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn’t yet apprehended him.

The backdoor of the house opened and Sam entered, breathing heavily and covered in a layer of perspiration; a smile brightened his face once he noticed her presence. “’Morning, Booksmart!”

“Hey Sam, you have a good run today?”

“Yeah, it was okay.” Sam wiped his brow with his sleeve, his expression suddenly sheepish. “Um…thanks again for last night, (Y/N). It really meant a lot to me.”

The night before, Sam had another intense nightmare about the last Air Force mission he’d flown with his partner, Riley. (Y/N) was woken up by his loud moaning and thrashing from the room across the hall, so she quickly threw on her bathrobe and went to him. As she’d done countless times over the past year, she’d carefully wrapped her arms around him and spoke soothing words until his eyes had eventually fluttered open, and as his face filled with pain, Sam flung his arms around her and they fell asleep in each other’s embrace. It hadn’t been the first time she’d helped him through one of his nightmares, and she doubted that it would be the last.

“I’m your best friend, Birdbrain, it’s in my job description. That, and annoying you whenever I think you deserve some annoying.” Her soft smile turned into a frown as Sam opened the refrigerator and pulled out the carton of orange juice. “I swear to God, Sam, if you drink straight from that carton I’m gonna have to kill you. That’s disgusting!”

Sam’s loud laugh was cut short by a knock on the backdoor. They exchanged matching looks of confusion before Sam headed for the door, (Y/N) following closely behind. He raised the blinds and opened the door to reveal Steve Rogers and Black Widow standing on their back porch, both covered head-to-toe in grime and looking completely worn-out. “…Hey, man.”

Steve’s weary eyes glanced between the two of them. “I’m sorry about this. We need a place to lay low.”

Black Widow’s smile was apologetic as she elaborated, “Everyone we know is trying to kill us.”

(Y/N) and Sam exchanged a look before he opened the door wider and said, “Not everyone.” With looks of gratitude, the pair hurried into the house and Sam closed the door behind them, careful to close the blinds and lock the deadbolt.

“We haven’t been properly introduced; I’m Natasha Romanoff.”

(Y/N) smiled politely and shook Natasha’s outstretched hand. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” After Sam introduced himself to her, (Y/N) gestured to the hallway and continued. “You guys are welcome to use our shower if you wanted to clean up a little; I think I may even have some spare clothes somewhere…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After showing Steve and Natasha the bathroom down the hall and letting them use Sam’s bedroom for some extra privacy, (Y/N) dug through her closet until she found the clothes that her brother and girlfriend had accidentally left when they’d visited last; she’d been meaning to send them back, but it would seem that the two fugitives they were harboring had more use for them. Pausing a moment in front of the closed bedroom door, she placed the box on the floor and hurried back to her room to get dressed before going back to the kitchen. When she got there, Sam was in the middle of scrambling eggs so she quietly began buttering some toast.

“They didn’t look too good, Sam. What do you think happened to them out there?”

“Not sure, but it must’ve been pretty serious for them to come here of all places for help. You mind finishing up the eggs while I go change out of these workout clothes and tell them the food’s ready?”

(Y/N) gave him a small smile and took the spatula from him. “’Course not.” Sam patted her shoulder and left the kitchen, and to distract herself from her worries, she began absentmindedly humming to herself while she finished scrambling the eggs.

“Hey, a tune I actually recognize.” (Y/N) glanced away from the stove to see Steve standing near the refrigerator. “You really enjoy music, don’t you?” When she tilted her head in confusion, he elaborated, “I took a wrong turn in the hall and caught a glimpse of your room. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many records and CD’s in my life.”

(Y/N) shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah, I guess I do. There’s something comforting about music to me…it makes me feel like no matter what happens in my life, good or bad, music will always be there for me.” She cringed at how cheesy her words sounded out loud and quickly added, “That probably doesn’t make much sense, though, just forget it…”

Steve’s mouth curved into a small smile. “I think I understand a little…thanks for the clothes, by the way.”

Switching off the burner, (Y/N) took the pan of scrambled eggs and began dishing the food onto two plates. “They fit all right? My brother and his girlfriend visited a while back and forgot some of their things here, they’re about your guys’ size…”

“Yeah, they fit great.” He adjusted the hem of his dark grey shirt before glancing back up at her. “So, were you humming ‘Pistol Packin’ Mama’ just now ‘cause something good’s happening or something bad?”

(Y/N) thought for a moment before answering. “Both, I guess. You guys are both safe, which is obviously good, but something’s going on. Something that must be pretty bad for you to come to the two of us for help.”

Steve stared at her with curious eyes for a few seconds before giving her a brief nod and accepting the plate of food she handed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, Hydra’s been infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D. this whole time…” Sam said, his eyes trained on his clasped hands. After they had eaten, Steve and Natasha had explained everything that had happened, from their mission on the Lemurian Star to the missile strike at Camp Lehigh where they discovered that the terrorist organization had been growing and thriving within S.H.I.E.L.D. for seventy years. “And they’ve been using this Winter Soldier guy to silence anyone unlucky enough to uncover their existence…”

“And they’re planning something big so they can try to take control of the world. Again.” (Y/N) finished, glancing away from Sam and across the table at Steve, who nodded mutely.

Natasha paced beside the table with her arms crossed over her chest. “So, the question is: who in S.H.I.E.L.D. could launch a domestic missile strike?”

“Pierce.”

“Who happens to be sitting on the top of the most secure building in the world,” (Y/N) pointed out, rubbing her forehead as a headache began to form and wishing that she could play some of her music to calm herself down.

Steve frowned, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “But he’s not working alone, Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star.”

“So was Jasper Sitwell.”

Natasha’s comment made Steve sigh. “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?”

“The answer is: you don’t.” (Y/N) hadn’t noticed that Sam had stood until he dropped a familiar file onto the table in front of Steve. When the super-soldier picked up the file and shot him a questioning glance, Sam added, “Call it a resume.”

“Sam…” (Y/N) jumped to her feet and stood in front of her friend as Steve and Natasha glanced through the file. “Are you sure?”

Sam gave her a comforting smile and nod as Natasha spoke. “Is this Bakhmala? The Khandil Khandil mission, that was you?” She glanced at Steve with an impressed smile. “You didn’t say he was para-rescue.”

“Is this Riley?”

(Y/N) gently took Sam’s hand as he nodded, knowing how difficult his decision was for him. He wouldn’t be getting back into all this if he didn’t believe that it was the right thing to do, she thought grimly, his hand tightening slightly around hers as the others continued to read over the file.

Natasha flicked through the pages of the file, looking up at Sam with a furrowed brow. “I heard they couldn’t bring in the choppers because of the RPG’s. What did you use, a stealth chute?”

“I’d check the next page if I were you.” (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile, remembering when Sam had told her about his military service and shown her the pictures of the EXO-7 Falcon pack. That’s when she began calling him ‘Birdbrain’ in retaliation to his awful nickname for her, but her plan backfired when he ended up taking the insult as a term of endearment.

Steve and Natasha flipped the pages of the file and the super-soldier’s eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked up at them. “I thought you said you were a pilot.”

“I never said pilot.” Despite the serious situation, Sam couldn’t keep the smirk off his face as he spoke and (Y/N) rolled her eyes in amusement.

“I can’t ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason-”

Sam cut off Steve with a wave of his hand. “Dude, Captain America needs my help. There’s no better reason to get back in.”

“…Where can we get our hands on one of these things?”

“The last one’s at Fort Meade, behind three guard gates and a twelve-inch steel wall.”

Natasha shrugged when Steve glanced at her. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

(Y/N) frowned as the three of them began collecting the files and standing, suddenly getting the feeling that they were preparing to leave without her. In that moment, she knew that she had a decision to make; if she stayed, then her life and career would continue normally as long as all three of them managed to stop Hydra, but she knew she’d feel guilt for not doing her part to help and if they couldn’t stop Hydra, then the organization would succeed in taking over the world and countless lives would be destroyed. But if she left with them, she would become a target; her life, her family, her career…it would all be at risk if Hydra put out a warrant for her arrest; if it meant helping save the world and everyone in it, though, then there was really only one right answer…

“I’m coming with you guys.”

“Um…” All three of them stopped and looked at her, and Natasha was the first to break the silence as she glanced over at Steve. “I thought you said she was a writer.”

“Yes, I am a writer, but I’m still coming with you.”

Steve shook his head, his jaw set with determination. “(Y/N), it’s bad enough that Sam’s being dragged into all this but at least he knows what we’re up against. You’d be putting your life at risk by coming, not to mention your career.”

“You’re right, Steve.” (Y/N) squared her shoulders and stared down the super-soldier, her back straight and her arms crossed. “I’m not a soldier, or a spy or even a goddamn Avenger, I’m just a civilian who wants to help save the world that I live in. You three are about to risk everything to stop Hydra, and I’ve got no right to do any less than you, no matter what my occupation is. It’s true that the price of freedom’s a high one, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay. Besides,” She couldn’t keep the smug tone out of her voice as she spoke. “I already know how to abduct Sitwell in broad daylight without alerting Hydra.”

Steve kept his eyes on hers for a moment before turning to Natasha, who had an impressed look on her face as she shrugged. “I like her, and we could always use another person on our side, Steve.”

“I’ve known (Y/N) for over a year now; if she says she can help, then she can help.” Sam gave her a small wink, and (Y/N) felt a rush of gratitude for her best friend. “I’ll keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.”

Steve sighed and turned back to her; she only raised her eyebrows in expectation as she waited for his response. After a moment, he finally gave her a nod, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile. “You’re in. Now, you said you had an idea about getting Sitwell…?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy! 

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BenknAqQQnOWY8NmSa23V

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117 @cminr @momc95 @awkwardnesshabitat @marinettepotterandplagg @khuang3 @supersouthy @benakenalove @brooke0297 @hufflepeople @becausewelie @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum​

Chapter Six

“The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

[trashyswitch]

The Repair Man's Reward

Chris is a full time repair man who works with the Animatronics. But a regular night of routine housekeeping for the next morning, would turn into so much more than he expected. And frankly, he's not complaining!

This prompt was suggested by a close friend of mine, who has been having dreams of being tickled by Chica (a FNAF representation of me as a ler, basically). So Chris, buddy, I hope this fanfic lives up to your expectations and puts you into a lee mood for a while!

Chris walked himself into the newer-looking pizzeria and looked around the place. The custodian must’ve just finished cleaning and re-setting up the party room, because it wasn’t dirty or cluttered with kids stuff. It was completely put together with table covers, banners, party hats and napkins on the tables, and little party bags to go with it. Chris smiled as he walked past the dining hall/game room, and looked up at the stage with Toy Freddy Fazbear and the bright-looking band members.

He walked up the stage’s stairs, and walked up to the new animatronics. “Good morning guys. Are you ready for another day of entertainment?” He asked rhetorically. He knew that the animatronics wouldn’t reply, so he got started on Toy Bonnie first. He took a moment to make sure the animatronics were properly shut down, and started removing the eyes. “Let’s get that guitar of yours tuned, shall we?” He said to himself.

Chris placed the eyes into the box to be cleaned, and moved onto the two bottom buttons. He clicked both of them one at a time, and smiled as Bonnie’s faceplate opened. “Perfect.” he declared. Next, Chris touched the flashing light button on the throat pipe to make the guitar play. Quickly, the guitar started playing each string individually from up to down. He listened carefully for any strings out of place and to Chris’s surprise, the strings were fine!

“Huh...looks like you’re learning how to carry a tune without breaking a string! Good job, Bon.” He reacted.

Then, he carried the eyes to the cleaning boxes, and dropped them in. It took only a couple seconds for the eyes to be cleaned and spat out. Chris grabbed them, walked back to the animatronic and placed the eyes in. Lastly: Chris closed the faceplate. “There ya go! And now onto Chica.”

Chris walked up to Chica with a smile. “Hello Chica! Good to see ya.” He greeted as he looked at her body. “Having fun making pizza for the kids?” He asked, seeing at least 4 separate slices of pizza on her. “Let’s get that removed.” He put some blue gloves on and started removing the pizza from her body. “Eugh...What is up with you and your obsession with pizza? I mean I totally get it, but this is just…wrong.” Chris threw the pizzas away one at a time and threw away the gloves into the same garbage. “And now…”

Chris clicked the two buttons on Chica’s head, and waited to see if there were cockroaches or other bugs. And sure enough, a few cockroaches started climbing around on there. “Oh no. Not again. Seriously! Where do these cockroaches come from? Do we need to call an exterminator?” He asked. “I’m gonna write that down for Mr. Afton to see.” He decided. He grabbed a notebook out of his box of parts and wrote a note to Afton about the cockroach issue. Then, Chris put a dust mask on and goggles, and sprayed some chemi-spray onto the animatronic. Quickly, Chris watched with relief as the cockroaches died and fell onto the ground.

Finally, Chris adjusted Chica’s arm, and placed the cupcake onto her hand. “There! Now onto Freddy.”

Chris had walked himself up to Freddy and right away, he could see a kid’s toy stuck in the mouth. Carefully, Chris started to open the mouth to remove the kid’s toy. He managed to successfully remove it and placed it into the lost and found bin. Giving his bowtie a light tug, Freddy’s chestplate opened and revealed no other toys or anything else worthy of the lost and found bin. So, Chris booped Freddy’s snoot and kept Freddy the way he was.

“Alright. And Foxy is still out of commission and-” Chris paused what he was saying when he saw that Chica was looking at him. “Heeeeee’s…” Chris walked closer to Chica and slowly started walking backwards. He watched as Chica’s head moved with his body, while his big green eyes stayed staring right back at his own dark brown eyes.

“W-What are you looking at?” He asked.

Suddenly, the yellow toy animatronic’s eyes went black. Chris didn’t even have a chance to think another coherent thought before the animatronic had dropped the cupcake and leaped right off the stage! Chris had immediately dropped his box of spare parts and had taken off in a terrified sprint down the main hall. He could hear stomps and clanging sounds of the yellow toy robot following right behind him.

While he ran for his life, Chris tried looking behind him to see just how much space was between-

OH GOD CHICA IS RIGHT BEHIND HIM!

The robot was literally neck and neck with the tiny human that had repaired her. It was like a human trying to outrun a raging lion! So impossible you shouldn’t even TRY to attempt it! Even though it would’ve been easier to just give up, Chris didn’t. But that determination only lasted another second before he was quickly captured by the speedy robot. Chris shouted and kicked, and wiggled as much as he could to get out of her grip. But it was impossible. Now that he was captured, there was no getting out.

“Help! HELP! HELP! AAAA-” All of Chris’s breath was squeezed right out of him as Chica tried to give him a big hug. Though it didn’t hurt him per say, it did render him unable to breath for a couple seconds. When the robot had stopped tightening her arms, Chris managed to adjust himself slightly so he could still breath. He took in a big breath, and exhaled in relief. Though he was able to breathe okay, he was still stuck in Chica’s grip.

Chica had wrapped her arms around Chris’s upper arms, rendering his shoulders immobile for a while. He was still able to bend his elbows and reach his lower arms out, but he couldn’t extend them like he would with free shoulders. “Ch-Chica! Please!” Chris begged.

Chica ignored his begs to be let go, and rested her head against Chris’s shoulder and neck, like a touch-starved mother. Chris blinked in surprise and still worried for his safety thanks to the fear that still lingered in his system.

But then, Chris felt one of Chica’s arms loosen and watched as the big hand rose above his head. Chris gasped and braced himself for skull-crushing impact…

But the only thing he felt was a light pat. A light pat from a big palm, and a ruffle of his big head of hair from the robot’s fingers. Chris opened his eyes and...didn’t know how to react. Were the animatronics supposed to hug people like this? If not, then why was Chica hugging him? Chris looked up at the hand and attempted to shake her hand off his head. But Chica removed her hand herself and resumed her tight hug.

Chris blinked in more surprise, but slowly seemed to calm down. It seemed like Chica was not planning on killing him and instead, was only planning to give hugs and cuddles to the guy. If that was true, then he’ll take them. Anything’s better than being killed.

But the comfy hug soon grew loose as Chica lifted Chris back up in front of her. Chris looked at her with genuine confusion and slight curiosity. Chica’s eyes were no longer dark black and had reverted back to the light green color. The toy version of Chica looked so much more friendly and approachable compared to the first Chica. It was somewhat deceiving. Chris watched as Chica wrapped one full hand under his armpits and around the man’s upper chest. The left hand was now securely but gently holding onto Chris, while the right hand started reaching down to his belly.

Noticing the shirt had risen up, Chica lifted the shirt up more and gazed at the skin underneath. Chica’s head tilted to the side while her jaw dropped a little in surprise. Chris looked at her eyes and quickly widened his own when he saw something adrenaline-inducing in Chica’s pupils:

A white feather had appeared in both eyes.

“Oooooh no. Ch-Chica...Let’s not do that-”

Chris was quickly interrupted by a single thick yellow finger, scratching at his belly. Chris immediately went silent and tensed, almost nervous to let his laugh out. Maybe if he held his breath and waited it out, Chica would assume he’s not ticklish and move on. But unfortunately, it was a lot easier said than actually done.

Chica was moving the single finger around the different spots on his belly and adding little extra scratches here and there. The extra scratches were already almost breaking him. What made matters worse was that his belly was one of his absolute worst spots! It didn’t take much for anyone to break him just from some scratches on his belly.

Chris let out a strained grunting sound as he tried to keep his giggles from escaping his lungs. But then: Chica pulled an EVIL move by adding another finger to the scratching! And if that wasn’t enough, Chica had started ‘walking’ her fingers around his belly! OH NO! Chris accidentally let out a strained titter as his lips quivered into a wobbly, silly-looking smile.

Much to Chris’s dismay, Chica heard the tittering sound and quickly took it as a sign that the guy was ticklish! So Chica added her third finger and her thumb to the mix. The moment she started clawing and scratching, Chris threw his head back and broke out in laughter. “AAAAHAHAAAhahahahaha! EEEeehehehehehehe!” Chris laughed, wiggling around and kicking his feet.

Chica’s eyes appeared to dilate, making the pair feather images appear bigger in her eyes as she moved her hand to squeeze his bottom ribs. Chris took the few seconds to breath a little and quickly started giggling more high-pitched the moment she started squeezing. “Hahahahahahahaha! Chihihihicahahahahaha! Cuhuhuhut ihihihit ohohohouhuhut!” Chris reacted, squeezing Chica’s fingers as he giggled.

Chica removed her right hand and put her three fingers into a fist. Staring at her thumb, Chica lowered it towards the side of Chris’s chest and started digging and worming her thumb into the middle ribs and the spaces between. “HeheheheHEHEHEEEEEE! NOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Chris tried desperately to reach down and grab the hand or thumb, but couldn’t even reach high enough thanks to Chica’s thick arms. And even if he could, he wouldn’t have been able to pull her off anyway.

Then, Chica stretched out her hands, and moved her hand curiously to his belly again. “IHIhihi...Whahahat ahahare…” He struggled to properly see where she was gonna go next thanks to her fingers taking up so much of his view. But Chris quickly figured it out thanks to one poke to the bell button.

Chris widened his eyes in horror. She’d better not be!

Chica poked his belly button again, causing Chris to jump and squeak like a loud mouse.

It was at this moment that Chris had realized: he was toast.

Chica immediately started poking and scratching her finger into his belly button, leaving him in hysterics. “AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP! STAHAHAP IHIHIHIT! IHIHIHIT’S TOOHOHOHOHO MUHUHUHUHUCH!” Chris begged.

Chica didn’t have any of those words in her code. But truth be told, none of the words in her code included laughter in between. That was a command flaw that had been around for a while, sadly. Usually, there would be a parent there to give the command. But this time, it was just one person! Chris was all alone; so Chris would have to work super hard to properly plead for her to actually stop.

Chris had sadly realized this and mentally cursed the complicated technology. If they had just come up with suits instead of robots...it would’ve been so much easier. But nope! He’s stuck with a robot chicken that was currently tickling him to bits.

“CHIHIHIHICAHAHAHA! IHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T BREHEHEHEHEAHAHATHE!” Chris yelled at her.

Just as one would figure, Chica didn’t understand this as a proper command. So, she continue to tickle the belly button for a little longer before resuming to the generally belly area. “HAHAHahahahahaha! Ohohohokahahahay, thahahahank yohohou. Thahahahank yohohohou Chihihicaha.” Chris told her.

Chica didn’t really understand that command. but she did notice that Chris’s laughter was more giggly and happy, than high-pitched and hysterical. So, Chica seemed to be able to learn the type of attention that Chris liked. Chica’s whole hand scratching soon moved back to 1 finger scratching again. When that happened, Chris started to calm down more and more. “Hehehehehehe! Yohohou...Yohohou’re ahamahahazing. Wooohohow.” Chris muttered.

Chica tilted her head as she gently lifted up Chris’s chin. Chris had a cute little dopey smile on his face. Under his longer hair, hid his sparkling dark eyes. Chica tilted her head as the feather image in both her eyes, switched to white hearts. Chris looked at the hearts in her eyes and dropped his smile. Not because he was sad, but because he was curious. Why were there hearts in her eyes? Was...Was Chica in love with her? Or was this more like a motherly kind of love?

Chica moved her finger around under his chin, and started gently scratching under his chin. Chris’s smile seemed to grow right back onto his face but this time, it was followed up by...almost a loving reaction to the scratching. He was closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side while sporting a soft, comfortable smile on his face. Whatever kind of loving reaction this was, Chica was loving it! Her eyes dilated in wonder and excitement as she scratched under his chin with two fingers this time.

Chris appeared to be loving the chin scratches. Whenever Chica would move towards the upper chin, Chris would follow her and lift his chin up like a touch-starved cat. It was like he had just learned about the wonders of being touched. He didn’t want it to stop!

Next, Chica moved her ears towards his ears and started lightly scratching there. To Chica’s surprise, Chris started leaning into that touch as well! His face showed signs of enjoyment, and he even started...vibrating?

Wait...there was a sound to this vibration! It sounded strange. In fact, it sounded similar to a finger fluttering through all the pages of a book. It sounded...pleasurable? Was it a sound of enjoyment to go along with his face? Chica wasn’t entirely sure. But she could understand that whatever the sound was...it was connected to the ear scratching.

Whenever Chica would stop scratching his ears, Chris would stop doing the flutter sound and would look at him with sadness and hurt. Silent pleas for more? It seemed so. Chica would continue the ear scratches, and the pleasurable face, along with the flutter sound, would return.

Chica kept up this interesting sound-making action for a little longer. And the moment she finally stopped, Chris looked at her with a smile. “Thank you Chica. That felt amazing.” Chris opened his arms out, reaching for a hug. Chica, surprised but happy to agree, gently brought Chris into a hug. Chris wrapped his arms around her neck and snuggled his face into her shoulder.

While Chris snuggled into the chick, Chica started to draw little scribbles on his back with her loving finger. Chris, much to her surprise, started giggling and wiggling a little. “Hehehehehehehe! Thahahat tihihihicklehehes!” He giggled. Happy to hear his laughter more up close, Chica kept it up. “Hehehehehehehe! Hehehehehahahahahahaha!” He kept on giggling.

Chris wasn’t even trying to protest at this point! He was just happy to be in her arms! Chris’s viewpoint on Chica had changed drastically from when he got there, to at this moment. Toy Chica was programmed to be a little like a mother hen to the little children she likely saw as baby chicks. It was an underappreciated code idea that deserved a lot more positive reviews.

Chris stayed in Chica’s hug for a long while and enjoyed every ticking second of his cuddle session with her. It had been years since he had been cuddled like this. He never, ever expected to get such a warm cuddle session from a metallic, chicken-looking robot! But, gifts can come at the strangest of times.

Chris would later go back to the Pizzeria with more than just a daily repair job to do. He would come back, fix up the animatronics, and cuddle Chica for a while. Everytime he had a shift, Chris would happily cuddle with Chica. And amazingly, Chica’s faulty facial scanning seemed to work just enough so that she recognized who he was! It was the fixing man who loves to cuddle!

Now despite Chris’s attempts to hide this secret, he did manage to get caught. But Chris was actually surprised with who, out of all the staff, had caught him during a cuddle session. It was Henry Emily himself.

Henry had originally come into the restaurant to reminisce over the robots he had created and sadly, handed over to Afton once he left the team. But he ended up finding a lot more than just a repair man and the animatronics.

While the sight of a grown man cuddling a robot was super confusing and almost worrying at first, Mr. Emily seemed to understand just what was actually happening. Not only that, but Emily even had some answers for Chris’s questions such as: What did the hearts mean?

As it would turn out, the hearts meant that Chica had grown a special connection to someone, similar to a mother with their child! He had originally set it up with white hearts to represent purity in the love rather than the traditional red heart, which would represent a more intimate love.

So Chris smiled in delight when he realized his personal guess was almost spot on!

But then, more and more things started to finally click when Chica’s feathers appeared in her eyes again while looking at Henry. And of course; before the engineer could think to run, Chica had grabbed him and started tickling him! And even when Emily begged and pleaded for Chris to stop her, Chris just crossed his arms and enjoyed the strangely endearing scene.

Looks like Chris isn’t the only one who likes getting tickles from the pizza-loving chicken...

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XV]

Word count: 5,674

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

Not the gif I wanted but I was too lazy to search for longer.

AO3 link

_______________

My ears rang with the grating sound of Judge Llewellyn’s voice projecting inside the courtroom. I glanced at my wristwatch. The session should have been over at 4.30pm but it was now past 5. Through the window closest to me, I could see that the sky had lost its orange clouds amidst light blue in favour of pinks and deep blues. Dracula would start calling me incessantly at any moment now, like he’d done yesterday.

Surreptitiously, I slid a hand on my trousers’ front pocket and grabbed my phone. I eased back on my seat to glimpse the screen from under the table. Jane Grisham’s client – my newest client as of yesterday, actually – huffed at my side but I ignored him; my problem was life or death, his was the possibility of ten years in prison which he well deserved. 

No messages from Count Dracula so far, except the ones from last night. I scrolled up the texts. Odd. I dared bring the phone closer to check if my phone was on airplane mode to justify this but I could see three bars at the top indicating that I had signal.

“Are we boring you, Miss L/N?”

I scrambled into a proper posture as I clicked the phone off and hurriedly put it back in my pocket. My eyes met Judge Llewellyn’s up in his pulpit and I forced an innocent smile at his chiding stare.

“Apologies, my lord. Please proceed.”

The prosecutor, a scrawny old man, raised a contemptuous eyebrow at me before he continued scribbling on a notebook. Llewellyn was nearing the end of the session, going over court dates and times, which was indeed boring, and I knew he would email the details later to make sure nobody made any mistakes, so his speech wasn’t as important as he thought.

I rubbed the corners of my eyes as much as my make up would allow to try and clear the sensation that I had sand in my eyes from lack of sleep. I’d gotten only two hours of sleep – that is, if I combined all the moments I nodded off when shuffling through files, otherwise I wouldn’t say I’d slept at all. I had spent the night staring at the window until sunrise, listening to every minimal sound that could indicate that Count Dracula had found me hiding in Mallory’s guestroom. When Mallory finally woke up earlier that morning, I had already gotten ready for work, stuffed all my things back in my suitcase, made us breakfast and sat down with a cup of untouched tea to mull over what I was going to say to Dracula. By the time Mallory and I left for work, I was confident with my little speech but as the day stretched on and exhaustion settled over me, I doubted that I was capable of many coherent thoughts. Facing Count Dracula when my head was a jumble and I could scarcely keep my eyes open wasn’t ideal but I had no other choice. My ten days were beyond over.

Llewellyn briefly interrupted himself as the courtroom’s door opened with a creak. He regarded whoever had entered the courtroom before resuming. Clicking heels approaching me made me turn my head just in time to see Mallory taking a seat behind me with the audience, a stern look on her face.

Without turning away from the court, I leaned back to give her my ear.

“St Thomas Hospital called me just now, they’re letting Renfield out,” she whispered. My foot bumped into the table as if I had just been shocked by high voltage. My mouth opened and closed. None of what Mallory had just said made sense. She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Dracula vouched for him to leave, he’s one of Renfield’s emergency contacts, apparently. The nurse told me that Dracula called them to say that you will be picking up Renfield after release hours tonight because you’re caught up in court duty. Renfield gave the nurse my number so I could notify you. Y/N, how did Dracula know you’d be in court until late? Is he stalking you?”

My head started spinning from the moment Mallory said Dracula had vouched for Renfied, and I failed to process the rest of what she’d said. 

Was he taunting me because the ten days were up? Was it a threat to Renfield’s life? A threat that he could hurt the people around me because I didn’t abide to his deadline? 

“We’re adjourned,” Llewellyn declared, and I shot up from my seat at once, gathering my things as quickly as I could before striding out of the courtroom with Mallory at my side; my client forgotten.

“Y/N, is he stalking you?” she asked again when we were at the Royal Courts of Justice’s halls.

“I don’t know! Maybe. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“You can’t keep seeing him if he is.”

“I don’t really have a choice in that matter, Mal,” I scoffed. She grabbed my elbow to make me look at her. Noting her scowl, I continued, “He’s a client, I can’t deny seeing him if he requests.” It wasn’t a lie but wasn’t the proper explanation either.

“Don’t play stupid with me, you know what I meant. Y/N, if he’s dangerous–”

“He is. He is very dangerous but I can deal with him,” I said, forcing my voice to sound strong to make me believe it, too. I untangled myself from Mallory. “I’ve got to go pick up Renfield. Talk to you later, Mal.”

  ______________________________________________________

“Miss? We’re here,” said the cabbie.

By his tone I knew he had said it at least once before and I hadn’t heard him. 

Renfield should be waiting for me inside St Thomas Hospital with his bags packed and a harmless, sane look in his eyes, at least I hoped. Count Dracula could be waiting in there, too, waiting for me to walk right into his arms. If I was smarter and less tired, I would give the cabbie Mallory’s address, but I couldn’t run forever. 

I rubbed my forehead. Exhaustion made it harder to evaluate all the possible consequences if I walked out of the car and into the hospital. 

“Can you wait for me here?” I finally said to the cabbie. “I’m picking up someone and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“No problem,” he said, glancing at the taximeter with a small smile in his mouth.

I considered my suitcase in the backseat and left, unconcerned. There wasn’t anything valuable in there to a cabbie, unless he had a secret propensity for crossdressing. 

My legs guided me through the hospital as if I was on autopilot while I cast furtive glances at every corner. More than once my heart sank when I saw a tall silhouette at the end of a hallway until I realised it was too short or too skinny to be Count Dracula.

Breathing was a hard task when I neared the psych ward but it was too late to turn back. People passed me, watery eyes and runny noses as a little girl complained that her dad sounded funny and asked her mother why dad drooled all the time and wouldn’t blink. The mother looked at me and I focused ahead of me, pretending I hadn’t heard any of that. 

Nurse Margaret greeted me with a warm smile when I stopped at the nurse’s station inside the psych ward.

“Wondered if you’d really come. Your fiancée said you were quite busy.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“My what?”

“Your fiancée,” she repeated, enunciating the word clearly like I’d missed it the first time. “He called earlier and said that Mr. Renfield will be getting his treatments from home now and that you’d come tonight to sign his release forms.”

“He’s not my fiancée.”

“Oh. I must’ve heard him wrong, then, but I’m sure he said the word bride…” her gaze was lost in thought for a moment.

“Where do I sign?” I asked with more than a touch of impatience. 

Margaret frowned lightly at my rudeness but retrieved a thin stack of papers from below her desk. Using a pen, she pointed at several paragraphs while she repeated without reading, almost word for word, what was written. Because Renfield had been committed on account of violent behaviour he would have to attend psychotherapy sessions inside St Thomas Hospital and see a psychiatrist every fifteen days – Nurse Margaret informed me that the normal procedure was usually every week but Renfield’s doctor had seen fantastic improvement and decided that fifteen days was more adequate in his case until he was deemed mentally healthy. She showed me where to sign and reminded me at each turn of a page that Renfield would be under my responsibility since I was permitting his release. When I was done signing everything, Margaret left to get Renfield.

Minutes rolled by and I paced around the waiting room like I was a caged beast, peering around corners, breath hitching in my chest whenever I heard a man’s voice. Clicking high heels drew me out to the hallway and I exhaled in relief upon seeing Renfield striding next to Nurse Margaret and a male nurse carrying a box. He was dressed in the very same clothes he had been wearing the morning he attacked me but they were clean and looked a little bigger on his frame than they did before. His glasses slid down his nose as he walked. They were too big for his face but he never wore another pair, even when I gave him new ones on his birthday. I smiled as he pushed them back over the bridge of his nose. Stubborn man. He smiled back.

“Happy to leave?” I asked him. 

“You’ve got no idea,” he replied, and surprised me by planting a kiss to my forehead. I froze for a second. He was usually awkward about physical contact with almost anyone. Therapy must have driven another man to crawl out of him. “You didn’t come visit me last week. How was the wedding?”

“Not great,” I said, staring into his eyes. They didn’t change, so I assumed he didn’t know what had happened. He could also be wearing his courtroom face which was just as good as mine, better even. 

At that, Margaret said her goodbyes with a warm smile and told us that Roger, the slender nurse carrying a cardboard box, would accompany us down with Renfield’s books. I noticed Renfield analysing me as I fidgeted inside my shoes and forced myself to stop. Roger tried to make small talk on the way out but I couldn’t give him more than a few words.

The taxi was parked in the same exact spot as before. The cabbie nodded at me, blowing out smoke before throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it. My feet hurt as I hurried towards him and my worry subsided a little. I’d made it. Renfield was out and I hadn’t seen Count Dracula. It wasn’t a trap but I still didn’t understand his true intention by doing so. 

The cabbie opened the door for me and I entered the car, relaxing in my seat to feel the coolness of the window against my forehead. Roger placed the box next to me so when Renfield took a seat, it laid between us.

“Why am I out?” Renfield asked in the short pause it took for the cabbie to close our door and round the car towards the driver’s seat.

I stared at him.

“If you don’t know, what makes you think I would?”

“You’re his brid–” Renfield cut the word short when the cabbie threw himself behind the wheel. He leaned forward and gave the cabbie his address. When he spoke to me again, his voice was low over the sound of the car’s engine. “From my experience, the Count isn’t particularly kind and I know he would never do this for me, especially after my little outburst. There must be a reason for this benevolence.”

“At the wedding he said that you could have some of his things shipped from Romania to London. Maybe he has need of them now.”

Renfield gave me a lopsided smile. It was usually the smile he reserved for cross examining witnesses. A venomous snake just before it struck.

“The wedding. Something happened there, didn’t it?” He inquired. I chose to look out of the window instead of facing him. “You won’t look at me, which means I’m right. Please tell me you were smart enough to listen to what I told you.”

Surrender with arms wide open or he’ll hurt you and those around you. Listen to me. He will. 

I surrendered but not fast enough. Not fast enough to take back everything I had done.

“I really should have listened to you,” I confessed. “He did exactly what you said he would.”

“Even though he’s lived a long time, patience isn’t one of his virtues, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t lack of patience,” I muttered. “Actually, he’s been nothing if not patient with me. I went behind his back and it blew up in my face, and you don’t need to chastise me about it. I’ve got enough guilt as it is.”

“What did he do?”

A weird question from him. Finally, I met his eyes again and was surprised to find that I knew the man behind them. 

“Mallory,” I said as a means of explanation. There wasn’t much we could say with the cabbie listening. “She’s okay, though.”

“So are you,” Renfield said as he extended a hand and brushed my hair away from my neck. 

“For now. I owe him an explanation, which I was supposed to give it to him yesterday but work happened. I’m not sure how he’ll–” I regarded Renfield for the second time that night. “You’re worried about me?”

“Of course I am.” He frowned, seemingly offended that I had to ask. “I wear glasses but I’m not completely blind. You haven’t been sleeping,” he said as he tapped under his eye. Covering my dark circles with a decent amount of concealer obviously didn’t disguise it enough. “And you were fidgeting inside the hospital because you were afraid of encountering Count Dracula. Cowardice is a horrible look on you, Y/N.”

“You haven’t asked me what I did to Dracula.”

“It mustn’t have been good to drive him towards Mallory. And why should it matter what you did to him? It’s no excuse.”

“Oh, my god,” I murmured, staring at him in shock as I pieced it together. The kiss to the forehead, his concern, the completely sane look to his eyes... 

“What? Did you think I’d defend him if he hurt you?”

“He released you,” I said. Renfield’s frown deepened as he looked from me to the hospital like I had just stated the obvious. “He released you from him,” I spoke quietly so the cabbie wouldn’t hear it but Renfield did. His face paled until it was stark white in the car’s low light. 

“No…”

“Would you ever speak of him this way if he hadn’t?”

He shook his head.

Letting Renfield out of the hospital wasn’t a threat or a ploy to get me. It was a gift.  However dim the possibility, my brain latched on to the idea that it wasn’t simply a gift, but an apology. Being merciful wasn’t at all like Dracula. It wouldn’t fix what he had done but it was something. If he had freed Renfield out of the goodness of his heart or if he had done it for ulterior motives, it didn’t really matter. I had begged for Renfield and offered myself up in exchange and Dracula had dismissed my attempts. Before, he had never cared how much that hurt me. And now this; an abrupt kindness to make up for his deeds. 

“He wouldn’t– no,” Renfield grumbled. “Why– he, he can’t… he can’t do this to me. I’ll be alone.”

“You’ll have me,” I retorted.

“No, you’re his. I know you are. It’s in your eyes, and you want it, too. You’ll be like him and who will I be, hm?” His voice was thin but carried the weight of restrained emotion. “Nobody, I’ll be nobody. In a few years the both of you won’t even remember me.”

To my horror, twin tears streamed down his face. 

Dracula had called him weak once, and suddenly I understood why he could see Renfield like that. Renfield himself had said that he didn't exist without Count Dracula but I’d deduced he had been made to believe that as a slave. His weeping told of an abandonment I couldn’t understand, and hoped never would. As much as I dreaded the idea, some people can only fathom existence if they have a leash around their neck to guide them. Sometimes the leash is religion or politics, and least often it is a centuries old vampire. It comforted Renfield, I supposed, this feeling of unquestionable certainty, and to have that teared away debased him. 

Revulsion wrapped its claws around my ankles until it creeped up to my face in a scowl. It wasn’t Renfield’s fault that this world had made him like this and I shouldn’t blame him for wanting direction under a tight fist of a warlord, and yet I found that an ugly part of me despised him for it. Did that mean I shared something in common with Count Dracula? One of his defects? 

“It’ll pass,” I told Renfield, looking out the window. “You’ll find your footing again soon. And no matter what you think or what happens, I’ll remember you.”

Despite his desolation, I was glad that he was back to himself. If it made me selfish, so be it. Although I wasn’t sure I was more pleased that Renfield was himself again or that Dracula had done it for me. 

When we arrived at Renfield’s flat in Chelsea, he refused any help to carry his belongings out of the car, so he stumbled out with the cardboard box and his small suitcase. At my request, the cabbie waited until I was sure Renfield was safe inside his building and then I gave him my address. 

I fished my phone from my purse and skimmed through my texts. Still none from Dracula. My fingers started typing before I could really think about what I was doing.

  _____________________________________________________

Count Dracula knocked briefly on Lucy’s balcony door before opening it. She had been lying on her stomach, texting someone, but turned around to greet him with a kittenish grin. The bed’s covers were instantly thrown away with a swift movement to expose her legs. 

“Finally! I thought you were giving up on me,” she exclaimed, rising on the bed to stand on her knees. He allowed her to pull him closer by his jacket’s lapels but when she neared his lips, he turned his face slightly to the side and she kissed only the corner of his mouth. “Nobody ignores my texts, you know.”

“Alas, I did”– he raised an eyebrow– “but you were begging for me and I had to come to put an end to it.”

That elicited another grin from her. A few days ago he would have found it charming, it was odd that it didn’t get a reaction out of him now. He hadn’t spent time with Lucy ever since before the wedding, so maybe that’s all he needed to warm up to her again – time. 

“Tell me you’re taking me out tonight,” she goaded, pouting.

“Don’t you have class tomorrow morning?”

“Yes but–”

“Then no.” He pushed her back on the bed and she fell with a laugh. “I’d rather do this,” he murmured as he climbed on top of her. 

She wriggled under him, doing her best to incite him as she rubbed her neck near his mouth, her hips twisting in need as her legs wrapped about his waist to brush up against him. He let her touch him, and he waited for desire to rise. She whined when he didn’t respond to her advances. 

Nothing stirred in him. He rolled off of her, throwing an arm over his face. His arm was lifted not a second later and he glanced at Lucy as she wrapped it around herself to snuggle up to his chest. He patted her shoulder, gazing up at the star pattern stamped on Lucy’s ceiling. Releasing Renfield should appease Y/N, which is what he wanted, but so far there was no news from her. He couldn’t stay in his home pacing around as he waited for a call. And then Lucy’s text had arrived and he decided it was better to go distract himself. No use so far.

“Did you have fun on your trip?” She asked him softly.

“Up to a point.”

“Did you miss me?”

“No, not really,” he said. Lucy chuckled, as she always did whenever he was too serious. He wasn’t sure if she interpreted his seriousness as a joke or if she laughed it off because she didn’t know how to react. 

“But you’re here,” she continued.

“It seems so, yes.”

He could tell that she wanted him to say that he had missed her but he wouldn’t lie. If she was hurt, then it was for the best. 

Lucy quickly maneuvered herself so she could straddle him. His hands automatically went to her thighs as she settled in a comfortable position. 

“Okay, so you didn’t come here to talk or to take me out.” Lowering her body over his, she popped a button on his shirt. Then another. “We can do other stuff, more interesting stuff…” Another button opened and she splayed her hands on his chest, stroking his skin. She moved her hips back and forth over his and his body stirred in response. Ah, so he wasn’t completely immune to her, it seemed. When she leaned in to kiss him, he let her. He breathed in her scent, and the charm was broken as swiftly as it had begun. It wasn’t the smell of honey he so longed for. “You’re being weird,” Lucy mumbled against his lips before pulling back to observe him.

Shutting his eyes, he forced himself to relax, concentrating on wiping Y/N’s scent from his brain. He covered Lucy’s hands with his own when he felt a tug on another button. Her fingers persisted but a light squeeze on them made her stop.

“How come?” 

“It’s fine if you don’t want to fuck because god knows all you want to do is drink me but you’re barely touching me, and usually you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” She wiggled her hips. “You’re not even hard, and I’m really trying here, Drac.” He laughed at her pout. She had never looked so offended since he’d met her and he had said things to her that would make anyone’s blood curdle. “It’s not funny. I was right that time, wasn’t I? You really don’t want me anymore.”

He opened his mouth to answer her, then his phone vibrated in his pocket, and froze. Lucy narrowed her eyes at him and glanced at the lit screen shining through the fabric of his trousers. She plucked his phone out, swatting his hands away when he tried to take it from her, and pushed off of his lap. He gripped thin air when she scooted out of the bed. He clenched his jaw. Lucy’s bratty behaviour was something he had learnt to enjoy but he didn’t find anything fun about it now.

“Give it to me, Lucy,” he said, holding out a hand as he sat. She bit her lip and shook her head to the sides as the phone lit her face from beneath. “Fine, then. Read the message aloud, please.”

“ I’m heading home now if you want to talk. And thank you. ” She read, making a face. “Who’s Y/N?”

Dracula grinned. A thank you from her was enough to bring him contentment, more than Lucy’s playful nature ever would. That boy from the pub, Trent, was apparently correct in saying that doing something nice for her might draw her out. If Dracula knew the outcome would be so perfect, he would have spared him for that alone. 

“My lawyer,” he said, his grin widening. “Give it back to me, Lucy.”

She placed the phone in his palm with an eye roll before sprawling on the bed again.

“Is she the reason why you’re leaving me?”

“How could I leave you if we weren’t together to begin with?”

“Ouch.”

“I swore I’d be sincere with you from the start, and I also told you this wouldn’t become a relationship. Save your ‘ouch’,” he told her, smirking. 

Taking advantage that Lucy appeared momentarily distracted by his words, he opened his texts. Beneath Y/N’s text, there was an opened one from Chelsea. He deleted it without reading it. She’d given him her number yesterday and while he thought to discard it, he was glad he hadn’t. After all, it was useful so he could find out when Y/N would be leaving work and Chelsea, appealing to gain his attention, had kindly provided the information that Y/N would be busy with court until late. It gave him a small window to call the hospital until the message reached her that Renfield was being released. Cutting the servitude ties to Renfield was as simple as closing a door. It opened another so he could make his way back to Y/N.

A sniffle drew his attention up as he was typing. Lucy turned her face toward him from where she lied, batting wet eyelashes at him.

“Lucy… Crying over me?” He smiled. “Didn’t you tell me you couldn’t get your heart broken and that you would be the one doing the heart breaking?”

“I’m crying because I never thought someone would reject me.” She huffed, and he laughed again, earning him a light, playful smack on the shoulder. “It’s sort of absurd.”

“You’re irredeemably spoiled.”

“I know.” She wiped the tears before crawling into his lap and pushing his arms away so she could fit between them. His phone was cast somewhere among her pillows. Lucy’s curls bounced as she settled on top of him and he smoothed them, being careful not to accidentally pull one. The time he’d done that, Lucy had made his ears ring from complaining so much. “But you like me anyway?” He simply nodded. “Hm. Can I meet her?”

“What?” He asked, as if his hearing had failed for the first time in centuries.

“Can I meet Y/N?”

“Why?”

“I want to see what I’m up against.”

“It’s not a competition, Lucy–”

“Okay. But what if–” she gave him a malicious smile “–c’mon, imagine… If I like her too, then maybe the three of us–”

“Lucy–”

“No, hear me out. It’s actually brilliant, and it’d be fun. I’ve never done anything like it. And if you make her a vampire too–”

“Lucy, stop.” He shook her lightly, making her furrow her eyebrows. “It could be fun, yes. Terribly fun, actually,” he said as he considered the image Lucy’s suggestion conjured. “But it’s not happening. None of it.”

“None of it?” She repeated. 

“None, dear,” he asserted. A smile struggled on the corners of his mouth. He had come to see Lucy for one reason but now he wondered his true motivation. Had he known what he was doing, subconsciously? “I won’t come to see you anymore.”

She gaped.

“You’re going to let me wither and die, aren’t you?” she accused.

He chuckled, tilting his head.

“I trust you’ll find some inventive way to kill yourself before you reach old age.”

“You are my inventive way! You promised me eternal life, that I’d pretty forever–”

“Lucy…” he grabbed her jaw to make her stop talking and she whined, although her eyes twinkled slightly at his bruteness. “I really don’t care. I’ve made my decision.”

Tears appeared on her eyes.

“Oh, please, stop with the crying,” he requested, cupping her cheek so a thumb could catch a fat tear before it spilled. He licked it, savouring the salt of her hurt. “I’ve had to deal with vast amounts of it lately and I don’t deserve your tears. They won’t get you anywhere with me.” He sighed. “I don’t want you anymore, Lucy, but it has nothing to do with you. I’ve simply found what I was looking for in someone else. And in her alone.” He smiled. “Y/N is my perfect fruit.”

“You don’t have to be mean,” she grumbled. 

“You’ve never seen me being mean. I realise now that I said the same words to you once and I thought them to be true at the time but not anymore. I don’t regret our time together, Lucy, and I’ll enjoy remembering it years from now. This is goodbye.”

Delicately, he started pushing her out of his lap but she grappled on to him. If she continued being a brat he might have to pry her hands away. When he gazed into her eyes he glimpsed in them an unforeseen sobriety. He hadn’t thought she was capable of it. 

“You won’t make me a vampire. I don’t want to grow old, and I won’t, so before you leave me, will you give me death? A sweet, tragic death that will make people wail at my funeral and say “oh poor Lucy, gone so soon”? Pretty, pretty please?”

“Vain until your last moments, aren’t you, Lucy?”

“Always,” she proclaimed with a proud tilt of her chin. “Give me at least that if you’re going to dump me. What’s there to live for anyway?”

Dark eyes studied her face as he inhaled her scent. There was no fear tainting his senses. Lucy never feared anything from him which was what had drawn him to her at first, yet it wasn’t powerful enough to hold his interest. She didn’t want more out of life except for death. In that sense, Y/N and Lucy were entirely opposites. One couldn’t live forever if life’s eternal paths didn’t interest them; at least Y/N searched for something worth living for. 

“Are you serious?” He  asked, raising an eyebrow. She nodded solemnly. “Death is not a caprice. You can’t take it back, Lucy. If this is your last hope that I’ll keep you, that I’ll suddenly change my mind at the last second, then you underestimate me.”

“I’m dead serious,” she said, widening her eyes at her own joke. Dracula’s expression didn’t change. “I am, Drac. And why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“Then do it,” she urged before brushing her hair away and exposing her neck to him.

Scars marked her neck and he bent forward instinctively, like it beckoned him closer. Lucy leaned in, her tiny chest heaving next to his, and he enveloped her in a tight embrace. Choosing to kill Lucy would leave only Y/N in his path, by doing it he would kill yet another bride, the one he was most certain would survive the metamorphosis. However glorious was that possibility there was nothing about Lucy that would make him want her as a companion. 

“As a last courtesy…” he whispered, laying his lips on a vein. Her pulse accelerated and the vein jumped, coaxing him to take it cautiously between his teeth. “Lucy, my darkling… I’ll be your easeful Death.” He smiled at his own quotation but she didn’t seem to quite catch it. Y/N would have understood it. She stimulated everything in him, and managed to ignite parts of him that had been long forgotten. He hungered for her like he hungered for blood. What did Lucy do to him? Nothing, nothing, nothing. 

His teeth cut through her and she slumped, melting into him. The taste of her blood was familiar and did not sing to him as it once did. He devoured her methodically. A flavorless drink, like an alcoholic’s bottle of choice. She didn’t move once, not even when death’s spasms should have seized her body.

Once she grew cold, utterly depleted of blood, he laid her on the bed, arranged the covers around her and fluffed the pillows. After considering it, he closed her eyes with the tips of his fingers and fixed the crown of curls about her head. Her dainty lips were slightly parted in her pout. A pretty picture for her mother to find – sweet and tragic, like Lucy had asked. He admired her for a moment and nodded in approval. It had been fun and if she wanted death, it was only right that he gave it to her.

Dracula’s shirt clung to the sides of his chest, dampened by the little blood that had escaped his mouth. He considered the dark swirls of hair on his chest muddled by red liquid; a shower was in order when he got home. His shirt made a muffled, wet sound as he buttoned it up.

His phone rested near Lucy’s shoulder. The screen was smeared with red but it was no trouble seeing through it as he opened Y/N’s message again. 

It would be late at night until he made himself presentable to her, and she would be tired until then. Killing a bride in favour of another also occupied his mind more than he expected. Y/N had ensnared him, completely. He was used to it being the other way around. He had given her time and in that time he had done nothing but kill to cleanse himself from her. It hadn’t worked. Perhaps it was time he did some reflection of his own, before they met again.

 Truce for now, we meet tomorrow. You’re welcome.

“She’s making me soft,” he muttered to himself. He eyed Lucy and rose an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you say so, dear?”

 .

.

.

A/N: Writing this chapter was a struggle, especially the last scene. Once again, not the right mindset for it in my opinion. For those who aren't familiar with what Dracula quotes, it's from Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats. As a treat, I'll let you all know that they'll be reunited in the next chapter... and that's all I'll say about that.

@festering-queen​ @feralstare​ @rheabalaur​ @a-dorky-book-keeper​ @thorin-smokin-shield​ @dreamer2381​ @deborahlazaroff​ @illbegoinhome​ @saint-hardy​ @girlonfireice​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang​ @iwasjustablur​ @crossoverqueen89​ @vampirescurse​ @blue-serendipity​ @sunscreenfeverdream​ @25ocurer​ @daydreaming136​ @hello-itsbarbie​ @princessayveke​ 

[hogwarts--imagines]

History

GIF NOT MINE

Time Set: College

Kenma x F!Reader

Warning: Angst, abusive relationship, talks of trauma, some Fluff. 

(A lot of this relates to me and to be honest it hit me close to home, but this inspired me to write about it and talk about it. a lot of my writing is truly personal to me and the only way I can vent that out is to write..)

Summary: After finally breaking free from him, y/n was able to find herself again and make some friends along the way. 

This song has been stuck in my head and I had to make a mini series with Kenma because Kenma Would be perfect for this story idea :)

Please watch Yuri on Ice because its a perfect anime and I love it so much

History Maker

Y/n sighed, this café attracted way to many people, more like too many girls. All to meet Kuroo the barista. Even though he looked as if he was the type of guy that would play around with just about any of the girls that constantly came in, he paid no mind to them. Doing his job he just kept a friendly face. 

“Ah y/n are you on your way to your evening class?” He greeted you as your approached the counter. Ever since she came to this college Kuroo has gotten to know her favorite drinks and occasional food choices. She came her every day about 2-3 times a day.

“Actually,” She took a deep breath, she hated having to force herself to talk, “I was wondering if there was any job openings.”

“Really?” Kuroo raised his eyebrows in shock, he had mentioned to his boss many times that they need the help and he had been considering asking her and his friend to come work with him. “We actually are in desperate need of more people.”

“Is there a job application I can fill out?” She blushed, she never wanted to work here but with the new changes happening to her, she needed to find a job desperately. 

“Give me a moment to grab it!” Kuroo was excited, he was finally going to have extra help here.

After she got her hands on the job application she stayed in the café to fill it out. When she was done she handed it to Kuroo and thanked him. 

“Don’t you have classes today?” Kuroo asked a little confused as to why she hadn’t run off to class already, it must’ve started already.

“Oh, um well my professor canceled for the day today and my last class is online.” Something in her voice made her sound hesitant. Kuroo didn’t bother to push since it wasn’t his place. 

“Oh okay, well I’ll give your application to my manager and he should give you a call in the next few days.” Kuroo smiled, now he just needed to convince his roommate to come back to this place.

“Thank you”  She gave a relieved smile, something was definitely wrong. 

--

“Kenma, I’m back” Kuroo called out.

“mm” Kenma responded, “I’m in the kitchen.” 

“You good?” Kuroo walked into the kitchen, seeing his friend leaning over the counter on his phone.

“I'm fine.” He didn’t look up from his phone, “My friend hasn’t been on in a while, normally I get a message from them once a day.” 

“Maybe they are busy?” Kuroo asked going to the fridge, “I'm gonna make some dinner.” 

“Yeah maybe.” Kenma shrugged,” It’s unlike them though, even if they were really busy they always sent some type of message.”  

“You have always worried about your friends.” Kuroo chuckled, “Oh that reminds me, we had someone apply at the café so it won’t be too stressful for you if you decide to come back.”

“I can’t, with my new streaming schedule it’ll be hard to work two jobs and do school.” Kenma shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Oh yeah I didn’t think about that, but you should stop by once she starts her job, she’s cute.” Kuroo smiled brightly.

“Maybe, but only because your café has good coffee.” Kenma walked away towards his room and started up his pc. Once everything turned on he launched Discord and sent his friend a message.

‘Hey N/n, are you busy?’

---

Y/n plopped down on her bed, she was done with the day. She just wanted to sleep and forget about her problems. She sat up and looked around her room, boxes were all over her room and everything was almost packed away. 

Thankfully he hasn’t been back. He left for a week vacation back to his hometown and thankfully she wasn’t forced to go. This was her chance to leave and she was going to take it.

*ding* 

Her phone went off, the familiar sound of discords notification filled the silent room. She knew who it was right away and smiled. It had been a long few days she forgot to respond to her online friend. 

‘Hey N/n, are you busy?’

The discord name KoKen was across her screen above the message. She missed her friend a lot. 

‘Hey Ko, sorry, I have been packing a lot this week.’ 

‘Are you moving?’

‘Yes, I found an apartment closer to my college and I have one roommate and I also got a new job.’ 

‘Is he still there?’

‘He comes home Friday but I’m leaving tomorrow.’

‘Does he know where your college is?’

‘No, I never told him’ 

‘I wish I could be there to help you move.’ 

‘You don’t even know where I live :P’

‘I will if you tell me :)’ 

‘No :)’

She smiled to herself, KoKen was always worried about her and she always worried about him. They had met through playing Apex Legends, they had played a match on the same duo team and before the match was over she had sent him a friend request through steam and that led them becoming friends on Discord and they would spend hours playing the game while in a voice call. 

It annoyed her soon to be Ex boyfriend that she talked to this person she met online but that didn’t stop her. She would just talk to them whenever he wasn’t around.

She sighed and got herself ready, She was going to take all over stuff out of here and be gone by tomorrow.

---

Two weeks had passed since she moved and she felt at ease going home to her own place everyday. Her roommate was pretty loud mostly but he was extremely friendly when she met him. He and his boyfriend helped her move, she had explained her situation to them, without giving them to much information, but enough that they needed to know. 

“Well starting today, you will be my roommate and We are going to become best friends!” Oikawa smiled excitedly.

“R-really?” She wanted to cry, it had taken her a long time to find a roommate, it was last minute when she saw a flyer for a roommate in her college that made her give him a call. “

“Do you need help moving?”  Iwaizumi stood behind her new roommate, he had his arms resting on Oikawa’s shoulders.

“Um, If it’s not too much trouble.” She felt her cheeks flush.

Since then, Oikawa and Iwaizumi became her friends. It had only been two weeks but she loved hanging out with them. 

“I’m off to work boys!” She called out, heading out the door. She adjusted her sweater, covering her arms completely as she headed towards the café. 

“Hey y/n!” Kuroo was excited to see her, she had finished her training early and she was already confident enough to take orders and make drinks on her own. 

“Hello” She smiled at her now coworker, “How’s business?” 

“Slow today,” Kuroo shrugged and watched as she threw on her apron, “So y/n, do you live around here?” 

The question shocked her, she kept to herself mostly and all Kuroo knew was she goes to the same college as him. 

“I only ask because I noticed you walk here a lot.” Kuroo pointed out, “And I was going to offer you a ride home if you ever knew it.”

“Oh, I live close, my roommates normally meet me here before I head home.” She let herself relax. 

She was lost in her thoughts while she was making another pot of coffee. She thought about KoKen, She missed her friend, not being able to play games with then was a struggle. She sent them messages daily but it was hard not being able to hear her friends voice and she just wanted to talk to them again. 

“Kuroo” A voice called from the other side of the counter, a voice that sound way too familiar.

“Hey Kenma!” Kuroo was excited, “Hey y/n come meet Kenma!”

“I just want my Coffee.” Kenma sounded annoyed. But why did his voice sound familiar?

“Y/n’s making a fresh pot right now.” Kuroo informed his friend. 

“mm, fine.” Kenma shrugged, he just wanted to go back home and try to get his friend to talk to him again. He missed their voice.

“Kuroo can you come here please?” The coworker’s voice called out, a voice that Kenma could recognize from anywhere. 

“N/n?” Kenma asked unsure if he heard the voice correctly.

Y/n’s head whipped around quickly, she felt her heart skip a beat there was no way this was-

“KoKen?” 

[angelicmichael]

Pretty Please

Jim Mason x reader

Summary: Jim and Reader decide to throw a christmas party but get distracted while trying to do so. Christmas fic!!

Words: 2.5k+

Warnings: Hella sexual tension, no smut but almost smut?? Very sexually suggestive hehe, fluff with no plot basically, SO much fluff its gross

A/N: based off this prompt I found in a christmas prompt list 'Making out under the christmas tree because the lights reflecting in their eyes just looked too ethereal for them not to kiss them until they lost their breath' sorry I cant find the specific prompt list this came from. Jim and Reader are both 18+, and this is kinda canon rewrite?? Basically as if the ending in ttopv didnt happen and Jim actually lived.. and got a gf haha. ALSO loosely based on the song 'pretty please' by Dua Lipa. Enjoy 💖 read the tags for more thots

You felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you once you entered the apartment.

The minimalistic decorations that once adorned the small apartment you and Jim owned were now paired and even doubled with new, shiny, Christmas decor. The last thing you were expecting to come home too was christmas decorations, to be completely honest. You knew the decorations were new because prior moving in together- you two had nothing.. christmas decoration wise anyway.

Saying that Jims childhood and even high school years were rough was definetly a understatement; you were thankful you didnt have to see him in that state and that you met him after that time.

You only met his parents once; well his mom anyway and almost immeadietly you knew why it took him so long for him to introduce you to her.

She was a fucking nightmare.

She told you immeadietly about Jim's dark past, probably in a lazy attempt to scare you off. She told you about Jim's father, the drugs, and even the drug overdose that nearly killed him. That didn't scare you off - but what it did do was break the final fucking straw for Jim who happened to overhear everything she said.

He hadn't talked to his mom since.

Medina frequently came over, she was practically your best friend and stayed incredibly close with Jim. In fact, you were supposed to see her in roughly a hour... along with a handful of other Jim and yours close friends.

With Christmas being so soon you and Jim decided to have a spontaneous christmas party. The idea was to decorate together but.. apparently Jim had other plans.

There was a wreath on the front door for one, and multi colored lights and Garland that were kept nearly on every surface of the house. Smaller christmas related knickknacks were placed too on the dining and coffee tables. It looked beautiful. You couldnt believe Jim would do this all for you, you meant to help but work unfortunately ran short so you had to cover a coworkers shift.

The entire living room was kept pretty dark and dim, only candles and the soft lighting from the christmas tree lights allowed you to see at all- but it was still enough. It was romantic if anything.

Jim didnt say anything as he came out to the living room to greet you. He stayed silent, watching you and your reaction as you spun around - trying to admire the apartment from every angle possible.

As you continued to keep walking in the apartment and admiring Jim's work, you couldn't help but dumbly giggle.

"Jim; dont get me wrong, I love the apartment but why didnt you just wait for me"? You marveled.

He smiled shyly, a light blush coating his cheeks.

"I wanted to spend as much time with you that I could when you got back before people started to show up for the party". He admitted, sounding slightly bashful and shy as he spoke.

He approached you, and you couldnt help but to feel butterflies at the closer he got. You dont know why you were suddenly starting to feel nervous at doing a act so simple; like kissing your boyfriend. Perhaps it was because normally when you two kissed or showed affection it was done so quickly and without second thought; it wasnt 'special'. You weren't blaming Jim for that either, you knew that was typical in long term relationships. However - tonight he was actually taking the time to be with you. It was beyond romantic.

He looked delicious. His hair wasnt messy but it wasnt kept up enough to look like he brushed it recently, yet it still managed to look so soft. You were yearning to run your fingers through it.

Once you were within arms reach, he quickly enveloped you in a hug. Forcing you to inhale his scent while you quickly buried your nose in his jacket, trying to take him all in.

He smelt like a hint of weed, but mostly like the ocean. You suspected he must've went surfing a while ago.

Even though the apartment was decorated for christmas and it was currently Winter; the air was still warm, maybe even a little muggy. The sun had finally decided to set, just sinking below the far off treeline - making the sky in a state of in between. Not dark but not quite light out either.

In the part of California you and Jim lived in, it only dropped about 10 degrees in the winter. You wore a warm cardigan since you came just home from outside; along with a pair of jeans and cozy boots that seemed to be your go to outfit in the winter.

Jim on the other hand wore a tight fitted dark navy shirt under his typical Jean jacket which you gently clutched onto.

"I missed you. I hate when you have to work during the holidays". You heard him softly grumble, which made you giggle.

You slowly moved, you backed your head up just enough so that your faces were now right next to each other. You bumped noses - you considered kissing him for a split second but you chose not too. Instead ghosting your lips over his; and gently resting your forehead together.

"Why? It's not like today is a holiday or anything". You asked, a playful tone apparent in your voice.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt Jim's lips inch closer, you could nearly taste his breath. Minty mostly, and warm on your lips.

You suddenly were itching to kiss him, unconsciously moving forward to ease the growing tension between the two of you. You jumped a bit when you felt a hand start to rub your back, quickly relaxing when you realized it was just Jim being handsy. You heard Jim's voice, even though you were incredibly close to him, it was so soft you could still barely hear it. A quiet, sultry whisper.

"It doesnt matter if it's a holiday or not". Jim started, he backed up a bit.

Just enough to make eye contact with you, now gently cradeling your face in his hands.

"This is the first Christmas season I've had where I'm not in between my parents trying to break up a fight. I'm so thankful I get to spend it with you, I just wish I had met you sooner". Jim said, with a shy blush starting to dust his tan cheeks again.

By the time he finished talking you were beaming. Pure happiness and joy was coursing through your veins as you stepped forward and fully enveloped yourself in him, your hands grasped his shoulders to steady yourself while your lips feverishly and slowly met his.

Jim's hands quickly adjusted, moving from your face down to your waist. His fingers gripped your skin tightly; the slight pain made you moan. It didnt really hurt persay but you knew your skin would be purple and sore tommorow. However, in this moment you didnt really care about how your skin would look - you just wanted him.

Jim kissed you menacingly slow; his lips working against yours so slowly in a deliberate attempt to make you frustrated and it was working. Your fingers flexed into his shoulders as you let out a throaty moan. You broke the kiss and let out a hiss,

"Stop fucking teasing". You spoke, titling your head slightly and arching your neck out - trying to hint to Jim that you wanted him to start kissing down your neck.

However; that's not what he fucking did.

Instead of feeling Jim's soft warm lips on your neck, you felt his wet tongue lick a fast stripe down your neck - most likely tracing a vein. You yelped and jumped, only realizing after how stupid you probably looked for getting startled. Jim was laughing too, fucker.

"What the fuck, Jim"?! You asked, laughter mixing in with your voice.

Jim giggled before quickly leaning in and stealing another slow kiss from you before mumbling against your lips;

"As much as I would love to sit here and make out with you all day.. we have business to attend too".

He pulled back suddenly, his lips up turning in a smile as if he knew what exactly he was doing.

"Business"? You mused.

"Yes. We have company coming over in 30 minutes, love" Jim reminded you.

You rolled your eyes, completely unamused.

"Do they have to come"? You whined.

"Yes. They do. Now c'mon make yourself useful". Jim said.

He turned around, grabbing a box that sat idly in the living room which you didnt notice previously. Opening it, he pulled out a ornament. You dumbly smiled, knowing exactly what this meant. He approached you, ornament in hand with a corny smile on his face.

"I decorated everything but the tree. I wanted to save something for us to decorate together". Jim stated.

"Your such a sap". You said fully laughing.

You grabbed one of the ornaments out of the box and walking up to the tree. You felt dumb for not noticing how bare the tree was before. No ornaments, no lights, no tinsel.. nothing. Well, nothing execpt for the one shiny ornament that you had just hung on one of the branches right center in the tree.

The one ornament on the tree quickly doubled, and then tripled until the tree was fully adorned with ornaments. You and Jim (mostly Jim) hung a string of lights around the tree. Making the already ambience scene in your living room even more cozy and romantic.

"This was a good idea, babe". You said, quickly kissing him.

You quickly checked the time, there was still 20 minutes before anyone was supposed to show up.. An idea popped up in your mind.

A wonderful, awful idea.

You were already standing comfortably close to Jim; you turned casually around and place your hand square on his chest.

"Its too bad we finished decorating so early, hmm"? You purred.

You didnt dare take a step forward; you knew Jim would make the next move and sure enough he did. He took steps closer to you.

You cheeks were slightly rosy, with the slight embarrassment you felt from suddenly taking the reigns and being in control. Needless to say this wasnt something you were really used too.

"We still have the tinsel to put up, you know". Jim chuckled lightly.

You looked down for a split second and looked back up into his circealean blue eyes, batting your eyes at him.

"Or.. you know, theres something else I can think of we can do that's less boring". You said.

You let your hand slip and travel from his chest up to his shoulder, feeling the muscle that lie underneath your hands as you took your other free hand up to his other shoulder. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard Jim groan.

It's not like you two have never been intimate before; that was far from the issue. Even though you knew Jim for fucking ever and you two have had sex countless of times - he still managed to give you butterflies.

That's how you knew he was the one for you. Even after all this time he still seemed to make you nervous and blush.

"Is that what you think"? You heard Jim say. His voice lowered in a husky manner.

You felt his arms quickly grab you as he gently pushed you onto the ground. He pinned you on your back; his hands on your shoulders as he softly panted above you. His face hovered right above yours - and his legs on your thighs. Not that you were complaining but you certainly couldnt leave or escape even if you desired too.

You merely giggled beneath him at this realization, not really wanting to switch from this position at all.

It sounded incredibly corny but you honestly wouldnt be surprised if you had took a brief visit to heaven. You felt pure, unfiltered ecstasy as you looked into Jims eyes.

The aroma from the pine tree that was directly above you and Jim filled your senses; the smell along with the candles set the atmosphere perfectly. Ornaments hung directly above you two, the rainbow lights from the tree reflecting in Jim's light blue eyes.

Because of the nature of how light Jim's eyes were, typically seeing reflections of other objects or anything really in them was close to impossible... but, maybe it was the already dark lighting in the room or a bit of christmas magic that made seeing the lights in Jim's eyes possible.

It made the already beautiful man look nothing but ethereal. You were left speechless as you could do nothing but stare, and get lost in his eyes.

You couldnt help but feel how lucky you were to even be in this situation, how lucky you were to be loved by him.

You could do nothing execpt for smile cheesily and blush at your new realization. Instead of craning your neck awkwardly to reach his lips, you chose to be smart and innovative instead, by taking one of your hands and pushing his head into yours - gently of course.

His lips met yours and you nearly moaned from the anticipation. You kissed him slowly, relishing in the feeling of being on the floor with non other than Jim Mason. You knew for a fact you would never do this with anyone else, nor did you even want to spend the time thinking about doing so.

His lips were warm and soft - not chapped in the slightest. They danced perfectly with yours; making separating for air almost a painful and undesired act.

When you separated, Jim still didnt let up off of you. He remained on top, breathless. His lips were swollen and pink, and were his cheeks. His eyes still looked beautiful, but even more so now that his pupils were dilated.

You heard him let out a soft, shallow growl. Bending down swiftly, almost animalistically, to the side of your mouth to give you a quick kiss. His lips ghosted and drifted down over your jaw; until you felt them meet your neck in gentle soft kisses.

Your mouth fell open, your fingers gripping the soft tree skirt below you that was riddled with tree nettles.

"Jim, wait". You spoke, barely even able to get the words out of your mouth without moaning.

You saw his head immeadietly snap up, those gorgeous blue eyes meeting yours again.

"Arent we having company over in like.. 10 minuets"? You asked, laughing.

You noticed Jim let out a brief chuckle as well before replying.

"Ugh, your right but if only I could bring myself to get off of you, baby". He spoke, gently attacking your neck in slightly more aggressive kisses than what you were typically used too. Although, you certainly weren't complaining.

You felt Jim slightly push his hips into yours, you automatically opened your legs - wrapping them around his waist and lower half. He gently started to grind into you; and there was no point in even trying to bite down or mask your moans at this point. All you felt was pure, unfiltered love for the man who was on top of you.

"I love you, Jim".

~

Taglist: @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon

[set-phasers-to-whump]

secret

prompt: secret

whumpee: kurt wallander

fandom: young wallander

hey! it’s been a sec since i did a fic for this month lol, so here is this one. hope you like it! 

It’s so stupid, Kurt thinks, afterwards. Of all the dumbest ways to get hurt…

--

Kurt has just come back from a quick morning trip to the store. He’s walking up the staircase to get to his apartment (the elevator is broken again) when there’s a loud clang from somewhere outside. It startles him, and his foot misses the step, and he trips. He’s holding a bag of groceries in his right hand, so he sticks out the left to break his fall.

His hand hits the ground hard, and the wrist folds under him, pinned between his body and the ground. There’s a crunching feeling and he swears he can actually hear a snap and then his wrist, all through his hand, is white hot with pain. He screams and his eyes fill with tears and fuck, he really can’t do this now. He has work today!

He allows himself a few seconds of pain before forcing himself to his feet. He picks up the single apple that had fallen out of his grocery bag, replaces it, then gets moving. His wrist hurts like it’s been smashed with a hammer or something similarly horrible, and it feels hot with the pain. He imagines flames licking up his arm and hopes that he’ll have enough time before work to fix this up - he’s got an ice pack and some painkillers and maybe he can even find something to brace his wrist with. Anything to lessen the pain of his almost-certainly-broken wrist without going to the doctor. 

He can’t go to the doctor. If anyone finds out that he’s hurt, he’s sure Rask will bench him and he’ll be left filling out paperwork while everyone else is out in the field. This sounds like a fate worse than death, and certainly worse than a little bit of discomfort. So it’s decided. He’ll just keep this little injury a secret from everyone he knows, and he’ll take care of it himself, as best as he can. 

Back in his apartment, Kurt quickly downs a few painkillers (though he doubts they’ll do much for him - there’s only so much pain that they’re capable of killing). He checks the time and groans. He’d hoped that he might have time to put some ice on his wrist, maybe even wrap it, but no such luck. He must’ve wallowed in his pain in the stairwell for longer than he’d thought. He needs to leave for work now if he wants to be on time. 

--

By the time he arrives at work, his wrist has started to swell. It’s also sort of floppy and weird-looking, and he adjusts it with his right hand as best as he can, hissing sharply when the movement sends a jolt of pain through his entire lower arm. 

Fortunately, no one had been around to witness this, and Kurt quickly gets to his desk before anyone can notice him. He is definitely not in the mood for conversation right now. 

He sinks down at his desk and eyes the fresh stack of paperwork sitting atop it. He sits there and looks at the papers and tries to get himself to focus, but no such luck. His wrist is throbbing and aching and just plain hurting and it takes all of his effort to make himself sit there and not whimper or cry or scream or do something similarly unbusinesslike. 

“Morning,” comes Reza’s voice, and Kurt looks up from the paperwork. Reza is just sitting down at his desk, opposite Kurt’s, with a steaming cup of coffee and a smile on his face. 

“Morning,” Kurt replies, voice strained. 

“You good?” Reza asks. Kurt nods. 

“You sure? You kind of look...I dunno. Off.”

Kurt tries to make himself not look off, and aims for a smile. It must not come across very well. 

“Are you sick? Did you get hurt?”

He shakes his head. Reza can’t know, because then he’ll want Kurt to go to the doctor, and then he’ll get stuck behind this desk for several weeks, and probably die from a lack of things to do. 

Reza raises his eyebrows at Kurt’s response, but doesn’t push any more. “Alright. Well, listen, Rask said she wants me to get some of these old files from the evidence storage. There’s like, at least 20 boxes. Wanna help?”

Kurt can’t exactly say no to that without sounding like he’s got something to hide (which he has), so he agrees. He stands up, acutely aware of the positioning of his left arm, and follows Reza to evidence storage. 

As soon as they’re in the room, Kurt realizes that he’s in trouble. The shelves are lined with cardboard boxes, none of which look small or light enough to be carried in one hand. Maybe he can balance them on his arms instead…

“First one,” Reza announces, and Kurt hurries to join him. Reza is pulling a box off a shelf that is labeled “Files - 2018.” He holds it out to Kurt, who takes a deep breath and then extends both of his arms. 

Reza looks at him quizzically when Kurt doesn’t reach out to grab the box. “Hello?” he says. “You gonna take it?”

“Put it on my arms,” Kurt instructs, and Reza looks at him like he’s crazy, but sets it down as Kurt had asked. 

He manages to avoid hitting Kurt’s injured wrist, and for a second, Kurt thinks, I can do this, but boxes aren’t really meant for sitting atop human arms. The cardboard slides against the fabric of Kurt’s jacket, and before he can stop it, the box is tumbling to the floor, lid flying off, files going in every direction.

He doesn’t have the energy to be upset. He just looks at the spread of papers for a few seconds, sighing, before slowly crouching to the ground and grabbing a couple in his right hand. 

Reza, who had been in the middle of retrieving another box, sets it down and comes to help. “What happened?” he asks, and Kurt shrugs, carefully setting the papers into the box. 

Reza reaches out and grabs Kurt’s wrist - the right one, thankfully - and Kurt turns to look at him. 

“Seriously, man, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kurt says stiffly, pulling his wrist out of Reza’s grasp. He resolutely goes back to his paper-gathering, and Reza silently goes back to his other box, taking it out of the room. 

A few minutes later, Reza returns. Kurt is still in the process of picking up the loose papers, which is taking him much longer than it should due to his only having one usable hand. He’s trying very hard not to keep glancing at his unusable hand, which has begun to bruise around the wrist and all down the back. 

He hears Reza sigh behind him, then speak. “Did something happen to your hand?”

Kurt quickly pulls the sleeve of his jacket down to cover his hand. “No.”

“Kurt.”

Reza crouches down in front of him, staring at his face until Kurt has no choice but to meet his eyes. “Kurt. What’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” Kurt insists, reaching for another file. 

Reza sighs again. “Fine, then come here,” he instructs. Kurt can tell that he doesn’t have much of a choice, so he obeys, carefully pushing himself to his feet with his right hand. 

“Take this,” Reza says, and he holds out another box of files. Kurt swallows nervously, thinks, this is about to go terribly wrong, then reaches out both of his hands and grabs the box. 

Which promptly drops from his grasp with a cry of pain. Trying to move his hand and close his fingers had been bad enough, but adding on the fact that his wrist is trying to support a weight - the pain is so intense that his vision goes blurry, and he sits down hard, nearly collapsing. Out of instinct, he cradles his left hand to his chest, wanting at once to touch it and keep it secure and to leave it alone so he doesn’t hurt himself even more. 

He doesn’t even realize that Reza is still there until something touches his left hand. He winces and tries to pull away, but there’s nowhere for him to go. Reza’s hand gently pulls Kurt’s own hand away from his body, his fingers light against the tender skin. It hurts a lot anyway, and Kurt kind of hates himself for the hot tears that have started gathering in his eyes for the second time that day. 

“Kurt…” Reza says, and Kurt closes his eyes. He can’t do this, it hurts so much, he doesn’t want to be here, god, it hurts…

“Your wrist is broken,” Reza continues, after a beat. Kurt had been expecting anger, but Reza’s voice is decidedly calm. He can’t decide whether he likes this or hates it. 

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, because there’s really no point in lying now. 

“You need to see a doctor.”

“I don’t want to,” Kurt says, and he’s aware that he probably sounds like a child, but it’s the truth. 

“You need to, Kurt. I will force you, if I have to.”

He definitely doesn’t want that. He is unfortunately well aware of the fact that Reza is capable of picking him up, and further, that Reza has no qualms about picking him up. He doesn’t exactly feel like being bodily removed from the police station and forced to the doctor, so he acquiesces. 

“Fine.”

“Good decision.”

Reza helps him to his feet, being overly careful to avoid his left side completely. He keeps a hand on Kurt’s shoulder as they walk out of evidence storage, leaving behind several files still strewn across the floor. 

“We’re telling Rask first,” Reza says, the hand on Kurt’s shoulder guiding him towards her office. Kurt groans, but it’s too late to back out now. Reza knocks on the door and Rask waves them in. 

--

In the end, it’s not so bad. Rask gives him a stern talking-to that is half anger, half concern, and the doctor gives him an x-ray and then a cast and then some painkillers which work a good deal better than the ones from home. He also instructs Kurt to take a few days off of work before returning to desk duty (instructions that Kurt - and probably Reza, too - knows full well he’s not going to follow).

When it’s all done, Reza drives him home (Rask had been quite firm that he was to take the remainder of the day off). He insists upon Kurt settling himself onto the couch with an ice pack on his wrist and the painkillers in easy reach. He won’t leave until he’s satisfied that everything is in order, and even then, Kurt has to prod him with reminders that he still has 19 boxes of evidence to remove from storage. 

“And whose fault is that, I wonder,” Reza says, making his way to the door at long last. “I’d be done with those boxes by now if it weren’t for you.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m not mad. But would it kill you to occasionally tell other people about your problems?”

Kurt considers this. “Maybe,” he decides at last. Reza shakes his head and laughs as he opens the door. 

“See you tomorrow,” he says, and Kurt actually manages to smile at him.

“See you tomorrow.”

thanks for reading this! hope you liked it :)

[neopuff]

title: sleep ship: six/holiday word count: ~1600 summary: Six finds Holiday after the events of Plague. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29835984

As soon as the virus was contained, Six opened his eyes wide and sat up with a start. He looked around himself to see Bobo asleep and several other officers slowly waking up. Memories flooded back as he thought back to the events from when he was last conscious - he’d been suddenly tired, more tired than ever, and fell asleep against Holiday’s lab desk - but somehow he’d been moved to the medical ward and there didn’t seem to be any doctors on duty. Where was Holiday? And where was Rex?

He hopped off the bed and quickly rushed towards the command center, hoping to find someone awake and useful enough to explain what the situation was. He forced himself to stop thinking about the worst possible situation and chose to focus on the facts: he fell asleep and then woke up in a different place surrounded by a ton of confused people who were also waking up. Not much to gauge from that.

The command center doors opened and Six was greeted by the sight of Providence employees grumbling and looking aimless and lost - clearly having just woken up at their desks and not knowing what was going on.

Even stranger than that - the camera for White Knight’s office was on, and it showed that he...wasn’t home. Six didn’t know what that meant, but he knew it wasn’t good. He quickly reached towards his ear to reach someone, but his comm wasn’t in. He huffed and glanced around the room to see if there was someone else’s he could grab, but suddenly his eyes landed on an all too familiar face.

And she was still fast asleep while everyone else seemed to be waking up.

Six rushed over to Holiday and reached out two fingers to her neck to feel her pulse as he assessed her situation. Her pulse seemed completely normal, she was snoring slightly, she had heavy bags under her eyes and strange bruises forming at her temples. What the hell happened while he was out?

He reached towards her ear and grabbed her comm, popping it in his own and pressing down. “Rex? Knight? Is anyone there?”

A short buzz. “Oh, hey Six! How’s it going?”

“How’s it-?! What happened? Where are you? Where’s Knight?”

Rex grunted and Six swore he heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. “Ahh, you know. Sleeping plague that didn’t affect EVOs so White the Nanite-less Wonder and I had to work together and save everyone. Go figure, huh?”

Six raised an eyebrow and glanced down at Holiday. She was twitching a bit and he felt an unshakable urge to lay his hand on her cheek and try to calm her down. He fought that urge valiantly. “So he’s with you?”

“Yeah. Hey Knight, wakey-wakey! Say good morning to Six!”

Six listened to a few grunting noises before the familiar baritone filled his ears. “Six. Is everyone waking up?”

“Everyone but Holiday,” he answered with an edge of worry. “Why isn’t she waking up? Is something wrong with her? Should I-?”

“Whoa, whoa, Six! Calm down!” Rex interrupted, and Six could practically see the kid waving his hands around to exaggerate. “She only fell asleep a few hours ago, just let her rest.”

“How did she-”

“Holiday kept herself awake so she could do her job, unlike some agents.”

Six grunted and held back a comment on how Knight sounded like he was barely awake himself.

“Why don’t you take her to her room, Six? She shocked her brain so many times she’ll probably be out for a week!”

The ninja didn’t respond - he just pressed the comm and kept it tucked in his ear in case they needed to contact him again. He looked down and finally noticed the two suction cups dangling on wires from the top of her lab coat. He followed the wire to her pocket and pulled out a small box.

He wasn’t an engineer by any means, but this device combined with what Rex said earlier painted an obvious picture. Six laid the device down on the desk Holiday had been sleeping against and realized he was finally losing the fight against himself - he reached out his hand and laid it against the side of her head, his thumb tingling against the circular bruise on her temple.

“Holiday…” he mumbled, wanting to scold her but knowing she did what she needed to do.

“Agent Six?” a voice behind him spoke, and Six quickly removed his hand from the doctor before turning around.

“What?”

“What’s...what’s going on?”

Six scanned the area and noticed that pretty much everyone in the room was staring at him. He wondered if they were watching the entire time, but shook it off - it didn’t matter. “All non-EVOs have been asleep for over 50 hours. They’ll be people everywhere that need our help to fix this, so start reaching out!”

The soldiers and scientists saluted and went to work, while Six glanced down at Holiday who was still looking absolutely miserable. He knew what he had to do and hated the publicity of it, but...this was Holiday and she needed him. If she slept like that any longer she’d wake up without being able to move her neck.

So without any further hesitation, Six reached his arms down and hoisted her up, bridal style, letting her head fall against his chest. Her snoring got a little louder as he adjusted her and he had to stop himself from thinking back to the last time he caught her asleep at a desk.

He shuffled out of the room without so much as a second glance at the other agents, taking his time walking towards the dorms so as to not accidentally wake Holiday up. He stole a glance at her face and felt temporarily captivated - her hair was sticking out every which way and her eyes kept twitching and he wondered how she was able to get those shockers on her head before succumbing to the sleeping plague like everyone else. She really was amazing.

Without realizing it, he’d reached her door, and Six lifted his hand up as best as he could to punch in her four-digit passcode that she’d trusted him with several years earlier. He used his elbow to turn on a low light to make his way towards Holiday’s bed and gently laid her down before getting ready to take his leave.

He paused, however, and got distracted by the bruises on her temple again. He admired her dedication and was grateful that it was probably thanks to her that everyone was safe, but there was this stupid tick at the back of his mind that said she shouldn’t have had to do that.

Six’s thumb brushed against her temple again and he sat on the edge of her bed, feeling oddly calmed by the sound of her snoring.

Holiday rotated in her sleep and suddenly his hand was cradling her cheek, his thumb hovering just under her eye. She looked so tired.

Tired, but beautiful, he heard in the back of his mind, and huffed out a loud breath of exasperation. He wasn’t trying to deny it, he just didn’t need to think about that at the moment.

Somehow, that exhale must’ve reached Holiday in ways that all the noises of Providence hadn’t, because she rapidly blinked up at him and Six tore his hand away like it was burning.

“Holiday, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Six!” she shouted suddenly, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank God you’re alright!”

Six stiffened on instinct, though a little part of him desperately wanted to wrap his arm around her waist and hold her tight against him. He was worried sick after seeing her asleep for ten minutes - he couldn’t imagine how she must’ve felt seeing everyone she cared about knocked out for two days straight.

Holiday backed away and moved her hands up to the sides of his face. “How do you feel?” She broke a few unspoken boundary rules of theirs and grabbed his sunglasses with one hand - pushing them up and revealing his eyes - then stretching the skin under his eyes with her other hand in her typical check-up routine. “Sick? Anxious? Well-rested? Anything?”

He shook his head and grabbed the sunglasses to pop them back into place. “I’m fine, Doctor. Rex, too. It seems like we’re all okay for the time being.”

She moved her hands down his face, holding them against his jaw with a surprising level of confidence. “Good,” she mumbled, staring up at him like he was the most important person in the world. “Good.”

Six, ignoring the warm feeling in his chest, reached up and wrapped his hands around her wrists, gently pulling them down to her lap. “You should go back to sleep, Holiday.”

“No, no,” she said against a quiet yawn. “I’ve had a few hours, that’ll be enough to keep me going while I-”

“Holiday,” he interrupted sternly, one of his hands cupped against her temple again. “Trust me when I say this: you’ve done enough. Too much, even.”

She lifted up one of her hands to brush his away from her head. “You don’t know what it was like, Six. It was terrifying enough when you suddenly fell asleep, but then...it was so quiet. I had to do something.”

He kept his hands to himself, but his eyes still focused on those little spots. “I know. But now it’s done and you need to go back to sleep.”

“But-”

Six leaned over and shoved against her arms, receiving almost no pushback as he laid her down on her bed.

“If you were anyone else…” she mumbled as her eyelids closed. “...I’d be mad about this…”

Six huffed and smiled the tiniest little smile. “Then it’s a good thing I’m me.”

“...yeah,” Holiday responded quietly, sounding like she was pretty much completely back to sleep. “...it is.”

[clonecest-bin-account]

Thank you for doing this!

Bingo box; mischief, pairing: tech/wrecker(I'm also happy their just friends), prompt: Wrecker chalenges Tech to a throwing contest. He didn't say Tech couldn't use technology.

(AHsdhshkfdhs I love)

“Why should I even agree to do this?” Tech immediately asks.

“Because it’s fun!” Wrecker replies, as if Tech doesn’t know his actual motive, something that he doesn’t hesitate to make known.

“No, it’s because you like these stupid games because you always win,” he says in fact. For what other reason would Wrecker come to him of all people challenging him to a throwing competition?

This is nothing new however: Wrecker does tend to get restless, and when he does he often turns to challenging the others to some sort of contest, anything to battle the boredom. It’s not like Tech doesn’t understand him, but he also doesn’t want him to get cocky after an easy win, because let’s face, he’d never be able to beat him.

Wait, unless…

 “You know what?” he says. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Awesome! Then we--”

“But not now.”

“What do you mean ‘not now’?” Wrecker asks, confused.

“I mean that I need time to prepare. What? You thought I’d be able to do it immediately?” Tech replies, patting on Wrecker’s bicep. “I don’t wanna lose to you.”

At that, Wrecker burst into laughter; it isn’t a mocking laughter though, he genuinely finds it funny but not in a bad way.

“Alright, I’ll give you some time,” he says, jovially slapping Tech’s shoulder and almost sending him fumbling ahead. “Come find me when you’re ready!”

Tech has to fight really hard to hide the smirk on his face, but he manages. “Don’t worry big guy, I will.”

 It takes less time than Tech thought to get ready, which is good because eventually Wrecker would’ve grown bored of waiting and he would’ve sought him out to finally do this challenge.

It wasn’t easy to hide his project from him, given how close they are, Tech had to utilize every single moment in which they weren’t together to work on it. Thankfully he could’ve counted on the others’ help who, having gotten wind of Tech’s plan, did their best to keep Wrecker away from him; they’re true friends.

Now that he’s finally ready, however, he doesn’t need to avoid it anymore, and actually, he goes straight to him. It’s not hard to find him, Tech only had to follow the noise - he never was that stealthy to begin with.

Mh, looks like Wrecker’s doing some weights. Tech almost feels bad for interrupting him so he just leans against the doors and waits for him to be done, which might be just an excuse to admire his body. What? If Wrecker didn’t want to be watched, he could’ve sealed the doors. Besides, those back muscles look so good that Tech can’t help but to stare…

 He chuckles at the startled way Wrecker turns towards him when he finally speaks - he hadn’t noticed him at all.

“Hey there, big guy…”

“Holy-- Tech! How long have you been there?” Yes, Wrecker really hadn’t noticed him.

“A while,” Tech replies, a smirk on his face that gets soon mirrored by the other.

“I see, I see. Enjoying the show, huh?” he comments, flexing his arm. Tech has to bite his lower lip or else he’d say something that would completely deviate from his original purpose.

Concentrate, Tech! Now’s not the time to get distracted!

“Not really, actually,” he says. “I came here for the challenge.”

Wrecker still doesn’t drop the smirk. “Oh? You think you’re ready?”

“I don’t think I’m ready, I am,” Tech replies, trying very hard not to sound cocky, but he can’t help it, not with his secret weapon. Sure, it might be cheating, but Wrecker never set any rule about using technology, so technically he’s not breaking them.

Wrecker picks up on the tone, however, and he looks more than intrigued. He’s figured that Tech must have some sort of plan, which makes him curious.

“Let’s get going then.”

 They walk out of the Havok Marauder, not wanting to break anything inside, and get settled on the clearing they have landed. Miles and miles of plain fields, the perfect zone for a throwing contest.

“What do we get if we win?” Tech can’t help but to ask.

“Huh?” Wrecker replies, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t really think about that…”

Typical Wrecker, he throws himself into any kind of challenge without even thinking about what comes next.

“How about who wins gets a kiss?” he proposes.

“But we already kiss all the time!” Wrecker replies. “What would make that special?”

“It would be a victory kiss…” Tech explains, though he himself isn’t that convinced about that. Kissing was the first thing that came to mind, that why he suggested it.

Wrecker thinks about it just a moment, then he nods.

“Yeah, makes sense. I think…” he says, turning immediately towards Tech again. “So, are we doing this?”

“Ladies first,” Tech jokes, though he’s serious about wanting Wrecker to go first.

 They’ve agreed to throw one EMP grenade each, since they don’t want to cause actual harm to the environment. That kind of grenades is harmful only to droids, so they should be safe.

Wrecker weighs the one in his hand, juggling it a bit. His stare is fixed ahead of him, observing a potential target.

The rules are simple: whoever throws the grenade furthest wins.

Tech smiles, stretching his hand. If only Wrecker would’ve noticed that his armor is slightly different from the usual he might’ve questioned what he did to it, which by the way is nothing too major: just a thruster that will help him launch the grenade further and give it a little boost.

He feels a bit bad about what he’s doing, but how does that saying go? In war and love there are no rules. Sure this might not be as serious as actual war, but hey they’re still soldiers, so he guesses it counts. He isn’t sure about that, and actually is pretty sure that it’s just some excuse that he’s ramble-y brain came up with, but whatever. Not everything has to be serious: sometimes he might just want to do something just for the sake of doing it, or just for the sake of general mischief in this particular case.

 Wrecker goes completely still, just for a moment, then he throws the grenade. It flies through the air through an ample arc. Tech doesn’t have his bucket on so he can’t calculate the exact distance, but he doesn’t need it to discern that it’s a lot; it makes him wonder if even the help of technology will be enough to win this. Not that it would be such a huge loss, but c’mon he does have some pride.

They’re barely able to hear the sound of the EMP grenade detonate, which prompts Wrecker to turn towards Tech with an excited gaze.

“Pretty good, huh?”

“Yeah…” Tech can’t help but to admit, sounding genuinely impressed. Ok, maybe he won’t be that mad if he loses after all.

 It’s his turn now.

He takes Wrecker’s place, observing the field in front of him. He didn’t want to use his bucket to calculate the trajectory because he felt that would’ve been too much cheating, but now he finds himself regretting it.

He does his best to understand the wind’s direction and use this information to figure out what his best throwing angle will be. Eventually, however, Wrecker has to yell at him: “We don’t have all day!”

“R-Right, sorry…” he apologizes, deciding to wind it. If it works, good, if it doesn’t, at least he tried.

He almost dislocates his shoulder for who strongly the machinery in his armor pulls at it, and after throwing the grenade, Tech finds himself stumbling a few steps ahead before finding some semblance of equilibrium back.

In a moment Wrecker’s by his side, holding him up.

“Shit, Tech! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think I am,” the other replies, not wanting Wrecker to worry for nothing.

 They wait, they wait and they wait, but after loosing track of the grenade, they still haven’t heard the sound of its detonation, which means…

The realization hits them both at the same time, making them turn towards each other, Tech with a cocky gaze and Wrecker with a surprised one.

“Looks like I--”

“No way!” Wrecker immediately exclaims. “Something must’ve gone wrong!”

“Yeah, like?” Tech challenges him.

“Oh I don’t know… Maybe it just didn’t detonate!”

“Wrecker, they’ve never not detonate, so why it should’ve done it now?”

“I just…”

“Face it, big guy, I won.”

 Every bad feeling Tech had about this dissipates into nothing as he watches Wrecker try to make sense of all this. It’s really fun to watch.

“You used some trick! There’s no other way!”

“So what? You never mentioned anything about them,” Tech points out, the smile still on his face.

“… Shit, you’re right,” Wrecker finally realizes. This is as close as an admission that he lost that Tech is going to get, so he’ll let that be enough. Besides…

 He turns his face towards Wrecker, exposing his cheek.

“So? I’m waiting for my prize.”

He hears Wrecker huff, then he suddenly grabs Tech by the chin, forcing him to turn his face again so that he can press their lips together, which isn’t what Tech was expecting - not that he’s complaining, of course.

When they pull away, Wrecker’s still pouting, though it’s obvious that he’s forcing himself to keep it up.

“Happy now?” he asks, and Tech can’t help but to laugh, leaning closer for another kiss.

“Yes.”