#and then promptly boots him down to hell

[starlessea2]

That It Is (Astarion)

Pairing: Astarion x Reader [Baldur's Gate 3]

Summary: After a long day trudging through the sunlit wetlands, you discover your bedroll is waterlogged, and that Astarion has lost his in the swamp... AKA, the classic: ‘oh no, there’s one bed, whatever shall we do, darling?’ (Act 1 spoilers).

A/N This one has a tad more enemies-to-lovers vibe to it, but sweetness nonetheless. 

Masterlist

Night was creeping over Faerûn.

After a day of toiling through the deep murk of the sunlit wetlands, your party had found refuge: an abandoned shack a little ways inland from the swamp. It was unassuming enough through the fog that Gale had tripped over its porch, and even Astarion’s darkvision had missed the contours of the old building tucked away. 

But once scoped, you found that the place was empty. Shadowheart deemed it safe enough for you to unpack your bedrolls and dry your waterlogged boots. So you did just that—even managing to rouse a fire with an ignis and a few pieces of damp wood. 

The flames took a few moments to blaze to life, but once they did, the warmth was heavenly on your skin. One by one, you started to shed your wet outer garments, laying them out by the fire.

“Oh, bloody hells!”

A voice rang out over the crackling hearth. You turned to find Astarion on his knees, rummaging through his supply pack half-deranged.  

He flung the contents out onto the floor: some soggy books, a cask of water, pristinely-folded clothes. Then he promptly turned the pack upside down, seemingly devestated to find nothing else inside.

The rogue threw his hands up. “Gone,” he declared, with a dejected sort of laugh. “Be it just my luck after trudging through this gods forsaken waste—”

From the corner of the room, Shadowheart stopped wringing out her gloves. She gave you a look. Deal with him, she said through the shared connection. 

With a sigh, you conceded. “What’s wrong, Astarion?” You stood over the pale elf, hand on hip, “Broken a nail?” 

Irritation painted his face, but his demeanour remained playful.“Ha! Hilarious as always, my dear,” he replied, without sparing you so much as a glance. “Alas, I’m afraid my situation is a tad more dire.” 

You clicked your tongue. “Go on.”

Astarion stood up, taking a moment to dust himself off. “It seems I’ve lost my bedroll somewhere in that bloody marsh,” he finally admitted. 

Somewhere across the room, Shadowheart’s snort was quickly covered up by a faux cough from Gale. “Oh?” you said, “I thought elves didn’t need to sleep.” 

Astarion shot you a glare. “And do you need to dry your clothes by the fire? Need to eat tonight or, gods forbid, drive us half mad with your infernal singing sometime tomorrow?” 

He stalked the cabin, pointing vivaciously at your drying garments, and menial rations you’d hoped wouldn’t spoil. 

You felt your brow furrow at his display. “No need to be rude,” you said shortly. “Today’s been hard on all of us.” Pushing past him, you quickly retrieved your own pack from its place near the door. “Here—just take mine.”

Fishing around the bag, you searched for your own bedroll before producing it for him. Astarion let out a sound of disgust. 

“You could at least try to be grateful, Astarion,” you started. Then you felt it; your trusted bedroll squelched in your hand. It was pasted with a layer of thick algae, and some other mysteries you couldn’t discern. “Son of a—” you cursed. How had you forgotten when it rolled into the marsh earlier in the day?

A hand found your shoulder. “Thanks for the generous offer, my dear, but I think I’ll pass,” Astarion said, proudly. He then flicked a rather large leech off your bedroll, causing Gale to shriek when it landed at his feet. “I’d like to remain the only bloodsucker around here.”

You were about to quip back, when Astarion stepped closer—enough so that his breath dusted your cheek when he spoke. “And I think I spy a bed in the other room. That should do me just fine.” 

It took you a moment to unravel his words. By the time you did, he’d already traipsed halfway across the cabin. “Hang on a moment,” you called after him,“I already staked my claim on that earlier!”

“Hmm?” the elf hummed, feigning ignorance.

The audacity. You shot a glance back at the wizard, who immediately threw his hands up in surrender. “Oh no, you don’t,” warned Gale, “I’m staying out of this one.”

To his left, Shadowheart looked equally unbothered by your plight. You scowled at them both. 

It was going to be a long night.

—

The cabin was quiet. It had been some time since you had rested in a place with a roof and four walls. There were no beasties lurking near your camp, or dangers beyond the trees. The only threat to your person was Gale’s snores coming from the main living space. He’d taken refuge on the floor, whilst Shadowheart seized the chaise lounge. 

It was a comfortable night. So in principle, you should have had no problem falling into a dreamless sleep. Especially given the feather bed at your back. 

“You know, my dear,” Astarion whispered, “I might have agreed to this arrangement, but that was under the condition that you get some sleep.”

You tried not to startle, but his words sounded so close to your ear. It made your skin prickle with anticipation—despite doing your utmost not to show it. 

“I think you’ll find I was the one who was forced to agree,” you countered, “and I’m trying. You just—” 

Shifting in the bed, you turned around to face the elf beside you. He was leaning on one arm, gazing up at the wooden ceiling as though he were watching the stars. His eyes found yours. “I what?” he asked. 

You could hear his grin; he was teasing you. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of backing down now. “You make me nervous,” you answered bluntly. 

He did not reply. Each second of silence that passed made you more and more uneasy. You couldn’t see him well in the dark. And as much as you tried to make out the contours of his face, you knew for sure discern every line on yours—every expression you hoped to conceal. “And why’s that?” he finally asked.

You let out a huff before falling onto your back. “You know why. Stop acting so smug—It doesn’t suit you."

Astarion’s laugh made its way to you. “Everything suits me, darling.” 

A witty remark alluded you, so you opted to stay quiet. Sleep was what you needed right now. The gods only know how deprived you were of it.

So you plumped your pillow and made yourself comfortable. Then you gathered some blankets to yourself. A yawn left you, but your mind felt anything but relaxed. You readjusted again, this time your body pressing into Astarion's. He moved to accomodate you; you stiffened in response.

“Will you stop wriggling around? I can’t so much as move without you flinching."

At his words, your breath hitched. You were midway through an apology before he interrupted.

“Look at me,” he said.

Despite the darkness, his thumb perfectly traced your jaw until it found the space just under your chin. Gently, he coaxed your head up.

“You know I’ve drank from you, right?” You gasped at his candidness. “I've felt your pulse on my tongue and your blood coat my teeth,” he went on. “Hells, I have your thoughts swimming in my head far more often than you probably realise.”

He paused for a moment, and in that time you breathed twice as fast as you ought to.

“You’ve allowed me that much, so sleeping beside me like this?” he said, with a lightness to his voice, “that shouldn’t matter, now should it.”

You couldn't reply. His words were likely meant to comfort, but they had only the opposite effect. As his fingers brushed your cheek, you immediately pulled back—hoping he did not feel the way you burned for him.

“No. I guess not?” you stuttered.

“Good,” came his reply. “Now sleep. I promise I won’t bite” 

He returned to his side of the bed, not overstepping the invisible boundary you'd drawn earlier that evening.

And on your side, you were left to press down whatever feelings threatened to bubble to the surface. You weren’t quite ready to let them out yet—not when you couldn’t see clearly the face he would make in response.

Right now, you just needed to sleep.

So you focused on the snores echoing from the other room, the rain pattering the windows, Astarion's breaths and your heart—which, without realising, had recently started to beat for him.

“Goodnight, Astarion,” you whispered into the dark.

“Yes, my dear," he said softly. "That it is."

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |7: In Denial|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 5.2k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

a/n: I think this installment should prove to be very interesting... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza @cloudroomblog @babygirlmurdock @writtenbyred @idontevenknow1359 @scriptedmoon @sarraa-26 @barnes21cz @loves0phelia @3sriracha

You stood in front of the small mirror above your dresser in the bedroom, awkwardly angling your body to get a better view of the shirt you’d just thrown on. It was the second one you’d tried to pair with these jeans, but this was the fourth outfit you’d thrown on for tonight because you'd already over-thought the first three. And staring at your reflection now, you were starting to question this one, too.

After telling your co-worker, Stephanie, to give Dylan your number the other day, he'd called you almost immediately and asked you out on a date far more promptly than you had anticipated. His enthusiasm had taken you by surprise, though nevertheless you had agreed. But even as you’d accepted the invitation, you found yourself having to actively ignore the sinking feeling in your gut when the Devil’s masked face inevitably flashed through your mind. But it didn’t seem likely that he was ever going to ask you on a date–whoever the hell he was. 

Granted, you didn’t exactly expect him to, either. After all, he was a masked vigilante who made it a priority to keep himself anonymous while he went out and dealt with criminals in the city. It wasn’t like he spent his evenings out looking for romantic prospects in the process, too. 

So now tonight, just days after making the decision to finally give Dylan a chance and to stop waiting around for the masked man, you had your date. You were nervous despite both of you deciding to keep the evening very casual. Instead of heading out somewhere for a fancy meal at a restaurant or sitting through a movie where neither of you could hold a conversation, the pair of you had decided to go out for a few drinks. Something light and informal. Admittedly you were also hoping that being able to have a couple of drinks would help to ease your nerves, especially because it had been awhile since you'd last even gone on a date. 

But even though the date was meant to be something relaxed, you'd still spent every minute after you'd arrived home from work trying to get ready for it. You'd brushed your teeth at least three times in the hopes to avoid repelling him with bad breath, and then you’d even anxiously reapplied your deodorant just as many times. You had gone so far as to shave ahead of time, too–just in case. Afterwards, you'd spent far too long contemplating which perfume you'd wear for the evening before landing in your current predicament of trying to find something to wear.

Tearing your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, you grabbed your phone from off the end of your bed to check the time. You groaned in defeat when you saw how late it had already become. With one final look back at yourself in your mirror, you decided to just settle on what you already were wearing. You didn't have time to change again if you were going to meet Dylan at the bar on time.

Leaving your bedroom in a rush, you made your way down the short hallway and through your living room towards your kitchen. Slipping your phone into the purse you had sitting on the kitchen counter, you picked it up and were about to head straight towards your front door, but before you could make your way there to put on your winter coat and boots, the sight of the lilies the Devil had gifted you stopped you in your tracks.

Pausing to observe them, you noticed that they looked more wilted than they even had this morning, drooping over the side of the glass they sat inside. Most of them had also lost a few petals, though some of the remaining ones still held a few dried drops of the Devil’s blood from the other night. Despite their obvious withered state, you’d still kept them on display on your counter ever since.

As you stared at the flowers, you noticed that the glass the bouquet was sitting in was almost out of water. With a frown you slipped the strap of your purse over your shoulder before reaching out and picking it up. You brought the glass over to your sink and pulled the flowers out before dumping the remnants of the makeshift vase's water down the drain. Setting the glass down on the counter, you turned around with every intention of tossing out the old flowers, but after taking a single step towards your garbage can, you hesitated. Glancing down at the lilies in your hand, you noticed that they had certainly lost most of their beauty, but somehow throwing them in the garbage just didn’t feel quite right. 

For a moment you stood there, eyeing the specks of red on a few white and pink petals. Gnawing on your bottom lip, you decided that you still weren't quite ready to part with them. Turning back towards your sink, you set the flowers back in the large glass before holding it under your faucet and filling it with fresh water. As you set the makeshift vase back onto your counter, you mentally promised yourself that you’d finally toss them tomorrow. You couldn’t exactly keep them forever.

Without a backwards glance, you left your kitchen and headed towards your apartment door. Beginning to slip on your boots, your mind quickly shifted to your growing first date nerves, and your thoughts about the Devil soon faded to the back of your mind.

Matt’s elbows rested along the bar counter he was sitting at, one finger tapping against the side of his beer bottle. One of his dress shoes was also fidgeting along the floor, his mind currently elsewhere tonight. He was focused on issues in the city that had absolutely nothing to do with Nelson and Murdock, yet here he was accompanying Foggy to Josie’s tonight, pretending like he was here to commiserate over their lack of paying customers and to figure out how they were going to cover the firm’s growing expenses. But really he was counting down the minutes before he could reasonably leave and deal with what Matt deemed to be more pressing problems.

“Maybe we could sell the baked goods for extra cash,” Foggy joked from his place on the barstool beside Matt’s. “I bet Mrs. Gonzalez’s pies alone would make us a fortune.”

“We’d need a permit for that,” Matt said off-handedly. “Can’t just open a shop and sell food on a whim, Fog.”

Matt registered the movement beside him, hearing the way Foggy readjusted his position on the barstool. Focusing closer on his friend, Matt noticed the pull of muscles along his face as Foggy frowned. Matt’s finger tapped a little faster against his beer bottle in agitation; he really wished he was doing more important things right now. Like finding the owner of that seemingly abandoned warehouse he’d stumbled on last night. He’d been itching to throw on the mask all day, but he had promised Fog they’d have this conversation tonight.

“I know, Matt,” Foggy told him. “I wasn’t being serious. But we do need to start figuring out how we’re going to pay all the bills that are piling up. And I think Karen had some good ideas on ways to save on some of our costs. That’s one of the things I was hoping to run by you tonight.”

Matt sighed, his hand wrapping around the neck of his beer bottle. “Alright,” he said, not really interested in the conversation at all. “Hit me with them.”

“Okay, so,” Foggy began enthusiastically, swiveling further towards Matt in his stool, “I think the first idea she had was completely genius.”

Matt drew his beer bottle up to his lips, taking a long pull from it as he only half-listened to Foggy tell him about one of Karen’s ideas. With how uninterested in the subject matter he currently was this evening, Matt’s attention soon began to wander around the bar, picking up on the sound of other patrons playing pool or catching snippets of various conversations. But as Matt had gone to swallow a drink of his beer, one voice in particular captured his full attention in the bar. Pausing with the alcohol still sitting in his mouth, Matt tilted his head slightly over his right shoulder, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he focused on it more closely. 

“Oh, I’ve really never been a fan of the winter here. It’s too cold and there’s far too much snow for my liking.”

Why had that woman’s voice sounded so familiar? 

Matt sat there for a moment, listening to the woman continue to explain how she preferred the summer months as he tried to place where he'd heard that voice before. And then it hit him.

You. It was you . 

Matt’s hand slowly lowered the bottle back to the bar counter as he swallowed his beer, surprise washing over him. He certainly hadn’t expected to hear you here tonight, and now he found himself wondering how long you'd been sitting over there without him noticing. Out of all the times he’d come here with Fog, he’d never once recognized your voice among the crowd at Josie’s, so hearing it now had completely thrown him. Though he knew it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that you might ever come here. Since Matt lived near Josie’s, and you lived practically just across the street from Matt, that also meant you lived near this bar, too. 

But still. Here you were sitting at a table in the far corner of Josie’s bar. His bar.

But you weren’t alone. You were sitting at a table with someone else. Curious as to who you were here with and why, Matt shifted in his barstool a little more towards your table, angling himself better as he focused in on who you were talking to. It was only a matter of seconds before Matt heard your companion speak and he realized you were here with a man. His head canting a bit to the side as Foggy still continued on about ways to save money to his left, Matt began to focus on your body. 

It didn’t sound like it should have and that had caught his attention immediately. Your heart was beating faster than what constituted a normal rhythm–currently it was beating similarly to how it often did whenever the Devil appeared at your window. Matt could also smell the adrenaline mixed with cortisol wafting off of you, but those hormones were paired with another scent of yours he’d long grown familiar with on his nightly visits to your apartment.

Pheromones.

Realization dawned on Matt as he pieced it all together. You were here on a date. Possibly a first or second one judging by your stress levels and the nervous fidgeting your hands were doing under the table. But you were certainly here on a date. And you were quite obviously attracted to whoever your date was, that much was obvious to him as he observed your body.

Matt’s hand gripped his beer bottle almost to the point of shattering the glass. His jaw tightened as he sat there smelling your attraction to someone that wasn’t the Devil. For some reason sitting here and experiencing your body reacting the way it currently was to someone else bothered him.

He didn’t like it at all.

A hand on Matt’s shoulder abruptly drew him from his thoughts and he startled in his stool at Foggy’s touch. Matt's head darted back in the direction of his friend beside him, feeling a little disoriented as he tried to properly focus his senses. 

“You okay, buddy?” Foggy asked in concern. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’ll be right back,” Matt heard you say. “I’m just going to use the restroom.”

“Yeah,” Matt answered distractedly. “I'm fine.”

Half of Matt's attention was still on you, listening as you'd gotten out of your chair and began to make your way across the bar and towards the bathrooms. When you passed behind the barstools where he and Foggy sat, the familiar scent of you instantly engulfed him. Matt's eyes closed, his body relaxing as the memory of your own warm body wrapped around his almost naked one beneath that blanket surfaced in his mind. Lips parting of their own accord, the taste of your pheromones landed sweetly on his tongue. 

An idea struck Matt once he'd heard the women's restroom door open and close. Sitting straighter in his chair, his attention returned to Foggy who'd already resumed discussing his original topic. Matt knew what he was about to do was ridiculous–and honestly incredibly dangerous considering how observant you'd proven to be–but he found himself speaking without first taking a moment to process what had come over him. Because truthfully he wasn't quite sure why he felt compelled to do what he was about to do. 

“Actually, you know what?” Matt said, cutting Foggy off as he swiveled in the bar stool. “I don’t think I’m feeling that great after all. Maybe it was that casserole Mrs. Canneli dropped off for lunch,” Matt lied. “I’m just going to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“You going to be alright, buddy?” Foggy asked. “Do you need me to help get you home instead?”

“Let me just see how I feel in a few minutes,” he said in a rush. 

Matt slid off of his stool, grabbing his folded cane from off the top of the bar counter as he caught the sound of the faucet running in the women’s restroom. Opening his cane in a rush with one hand, he lightly clapped Foggy on the back with his other. Without wasting another moment, he navigated his own way through the crowd at Josie’s and over towards the bathrooms, his cane running back and forth along the floor as he walked.

When he reached the short hallway where the bathrooms were located, Matt already heard your unmistakeable footsteps making their way towards the bathroom door. Timing things precisely, he stepped directly in front of it just as you stepped out of it. You solidly bumped straight into his chest before stumbling backwards a step. Unable to help himself, Matt’s left hand darted out and lightly grasped your bicep, attempting to keep you from entirely falling over.

“Oh, shit!” you exclaimed, rubbing a hand across your forehead. “I'm so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt said, turning up the charm and fighting down his growing grin. “It was my fault.”

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head as your hand lowered back to your side, “I should have been–”

Matt caught the moment you’d really noticed him as he released your arm. Your breath had briefly hitched, the sound only loud enough for him to catch it. Your heart had begun to beat a little quicker–slightly faster than it had been when you’d been sitting with your date, he noted with pride. A light bit of sweat had begun on your palms which you were now wiping along your jeans.

You thought he was attractive even out of the black suit, even if you didn’t realize you were standing in front of the very same Devil who often so easily got your pulse racing. 

“I should have been watching where I was going,” you finished lamely. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to walk right into you.”

“It’s alright, really,” Matt replied, struggling to resist calling you ‘angel’ as he spoke. That would’ve certainly given him away. “I can’t exactly see where I’m going, so you’re not entirely to blame.”

He flashed another smile at you, enjoying the way your heart hammered a little harder in your chest. Even when he wasn’t the Devil he realized he still liked the sound of that.

But then something strange happened.

He felt your body’s reaction to him suddenly shift, something so incredibly immediate that it had taken him off guard. Your eyes had widened, your brows arching up a bit as your head tilted just the tiniest fraction to the side. Your breathing briefly paused as the scent of your cortisol and adrenaline grew heavy in Matt’s nose for a moment. But then your body just as swiftly switched back to frazzled and attracted to him. You lightly shook your head, as if whatever that feeling was had been fleeting, before Matt could even try to make sense of it. 

Matt’s smile faltered as he tried to place what had just happened. Was that panic that he’d just picked up from you? Or was it…recognition? Had you somehow figured everything out so easily? Were you really that observant?

Strange.

“I should uh, let you get to the bathrooms then,” you said awkwardly. 

“I was just going to make a phone call, actually,” Matt lied quickly, speaking before he could think. “But what if I bought you an apology drink instead? For the headache I’m sure I just gave you.”

You laughed lightly, your hand running across your forehead again. “Thank you but I’m actually here on a date right now. And I should probably get back to them,” you told him. “But again, I’m really sorry for running into you like that. I hope the rest of your night continues with far less injury.”

Matt's smile became tight, his mind reaching for something to say to keep you longer, but then you were maneuvering around him before he could say another word. He listened as you made your way back to your date in the bar while internally kicking himself for having lost the opportunity to try and ask for your name. He’d hoped at the very least he might've gotten it out of you as Matt Murdock tonight once he’d realized you were here.

Standing in the short hallway a minute longer, Matt heard your cheerful voice greet the man you were here with once you returned to your table. His hand gripped around the handle of his cane, squeezing it tight in his fist. 

Humming softly to yourself, you placed the clean stack of bowls up into your cabinet. Too preoccupied with getting ready for your date earlier this evening, you’d left your dishwasher full of clean dishes instead of taking a few minutes to put them away. But now that you’d returned home from meeting Dylan at Josie’s, you found yourself full of far too much energy to brush your teeth and crawl into bed and go to sleep despite the late hour.

Turning back towards your dishwasher, you bent down and pulled two glasses out of the bottom rack. As you made your way towards the cabinet where they belonged, you couldn’t fight the smile from growing on your face.

You’d had a shockingly good time with Dylan tonight. He’d been funny and sweet and the conversation between you both had never really dulled for the duration of the night. He was attractive, too. Maybe not as attractive as the Devil in his black suit with his chiseled six pack, but still a handsome man–and one whose face you’d actually been able to see.

All in all, tonight had been a success instead of a failure. You’d even set up a second date for later this week and you found yourself looking forward to it. Stephanie had been more than right thinking the pair of you would get along well because you certainly had.

Reaching up into your cabinet, you set both of the glass cups on the shelf. But before you could even turn around, you heard a deep voice unexpectedly come from behind you.

“You should really lock that window.”

Spinning around on the spot in surprise, you stumbled back into the countertop behind you when you saw you weren't alone. The Devil was standing near your living room window and dressed in his usual tight-fitting black. There was no smile on his face to greet you tonight, but rather a tension you could see in his shoulders and a stern set to his lips. He looked agitated and you found yourself wondering if he’d had a bad night.

“Considering you’re the only one who uses it,” you teasingly began, hoping to lighten his mood as your startled heart gradually calmed, “I figured it only made sense that I leave it unlocked. I mean at this point it’s basically a pet door for a particular favorite stray of mine.”

The Devil’s reaction had been almost instantaneous at your jest. A tentative smile spread its way across his mouth, all traces of the tension in his jaw and shoulders beginning to melt away. He took a few steps towards you, coming to rest both of his gloved hands flat across your countertop. You noticed his masked face briefly fix on the vase of now dying flowers that he’d brought you for just a second before it focused back on you.

“You seem in a particularly good mood this evening, angel,” the Devil commented. “Are you just that excited to see me?”

A flush steadily began to creep up your neck at the fact that he’d noticed your mood. Truthfully, his unexpected appearance in your apartment tonight had increased your happiness this evening, but there was no way you were going to admit that to him. More than likely it would send him right back to jumping straight off your fire escape. So instead you decided on telling him only part of the truth.

“Actually,” you replied, “I had a date tonight.”

His lips twitched at the corners briefly, a gesture so small you’d probably never have noticed if his mouth wasn’t the only thing you could ever completely see on his face. What had that been about?

“A date?” the Devil asked, sounding surprised. 

Your eyes flickered over to the side of him, your gaze landing on the vase of wilted lilies. You probably should have tossed those earlier tonight considering how awful they really looked now. Knowing he’d noticed them, you wondered if he might’ve read more into the reason why you still had them on display.

“Yeah,” you answered, your attention returning to him. “A date.”

The Devil’s hands curled into fists along your countertop, that agitated demeanor rapidly returning to him. A tenseness had settled in his smile as he gazed back at you beneath his mask.

“That’s nice,” he replied. “I imagine your date behaved themselves tonight then. Or am I mistaken?” he asked. There was something almost predatory in the way his smile suddenly curved a little more as he continued. “Does the Devil need to pay someone a visit this evening?”

Your brows jumped up onto your forehead in shock. Had he just offered to assault your date? But as he continued to stand there on the other side of your kitchen counter with that menacing smile on his beautiful mouth, you realized he’d been joking. 

With a laugh, you shook your head as you made your way back over towards your dishwasher. Bending down, you retrieved a few clean plates that still needed to be put away. 

“No, he was a complete gentleman,” you informed him, carrying the stacked plates back to the cabinet you’d put the cups in moments ago. “We just had a few drinks at some bar nearby. I think it was called Josie’s. Have you heard of it?”

Closing the cabinet door, you turned back around to face the masked man. The predatory smile had vanished and was currently replaced with a faint frown. As you eyed him curiously, you wondered where his usual joking demeanor had disappeared to tonight.

“Yeah, I know of it,” his deep voice responded. “Not the most romantic choice for a date if you ask me. Sure you don’t want me to hit him for you?”

Laughing again, you bent over and grabbed a couple of coffee mugs from your dishwasher next. “It was just a first date,” you explained, “and we both agreed on doing something really informal to take the pressure off.” You shrugged, carrying the mugs over to the cabinet above your coffee maker. “And I don’t know, I kind of liked the place, personally.”

Setting the mugs on the shelf, you heard the Devil release a noise behind you that you could only classify as an irritated grunt. The sound caused you to curiously pause, attempting to make sense of it.

“So you never said how the date went,” he pointed out. “Did it go well?”

A flutter of something flickered in your stomach at the question as you slowly turned back around towards him. It didn't help that it felt like his eyes were boring a hole into you beneath that black mask. Why was he so curious about your date this evening? He seemed to be asking quite a few questions about it.

You shrugged a shoulder. “It went well,” you replied. “He seemed nice.”

The Devil’s lips curved up into a sarcastic smirk beneath his mask, his head nodding lightly. “Nice, huh? Good for him.”

Your eyes tightened further at him, studying the way his muscles seemed to tense once more beneath his black clothes. Your gaze lowered, catching the way his left hand continued to open and close into a fist repeatedly along your countertop like a nervous fidget.

Or an angry one.

Wait, you thought, your eyes still glued to the fist he continued to clench and unclench. Is the Devil…jealous? 

But no, that couldn’t have been. He’d already come here in an off mood, that was probably all it was. Why would he care that you'd gone on a date? He'd have to have feelings for you for that to have bothered him. And you didn't want to hope too hard for something so unlikely.

“So did anything else interesting happen?” the Devil pried. “While you were on your date?”

Your attention returned to his masked face at the odd question. One of your brows arched back at him, your eyes narrowing even further. You definitely weren’t imagining it, though, he was unusually curious this evening.

“Interesting like what?” you asked.

“Well,” he began, turning around towards your kitchen table and lightly rapping his knuckles along the surface of it. “Did you witness any bar fights maybe? I mean the guy took you to a dive bar as a first date after all. I’m sure you must've at least met some curious people there, angel. At least one.”

Opening your mouth, you tried to ignore his uncharacteristic bitter tone as you were about to remind him that you'd been there on a date and that you hadn’t been trying to meet anyone else. But then you remembered the handsome blind man in the suit that you'd quite literally run into by the bathrooms and you immediately stopped short. With his back towards you, you noticed the way the Devil’s spine had straightened, his fist momentarily pausing its repeated movement against your table before it continued a second later.

The guy at Josie’s had been intriguing to say the least. And it almost seemed like he'd been flirting with you. Had you not been there with Dylan you might have accepted his offer to have a drink with him, especially considering that weird feeling you'd strangely gotten hit by when you’d been talking to him. Almost like you knew him somehow, like you could trust him. And you had really wanted to make more sense of that feeling.

But logically you knew you'd most likely never see that guy again. 

“No,” you lied. “I only met my date. Because I was, you know, there on a date , Devil.”

The Devil’s gloved hand uncurled from its tight fist, his head tilting marginally over his shoulder back towards you. For a moment he stayed like that in complete silence as you curiously watched him in return. Then very slowly, he turned around towards you, his hidden gaze seemingly on you beneath the mask. A very faint, almost satisfied smile crossed his lips as he stared at you–and then it disappeared just as fast as you'd seen it.

How strange , you thought. He's acting more unusual than normal.

“So I’m your favorite stray then, am I?” he teased, changing the subject.

You watched as his usual easy smile slipped onto his mouth beneath the mask as if it had been there this entire time. His sudden mood changes tonight were beginning to give you emotional whiplash at this point. Because now he was standing there by your table, all traces of his agitation having seemingly disappeared.

“Yes,” you answered, choosing to let his weird behavior go this evening. Heading back over to your dishwasher, you bent down to grab another coffee mug out of it. “Granted, you're also the only one using my window like a pet door,” you pointed out. “So that sort of makes you–”

Your sentence died in your throat. When you'd stood up and turned around to go and put the coffee mug away, you'd noticed the Devil had quietly closed the distance between you both. Now he was standing so close to you that when you'd gasped in surprise at his proximity, his hips had brushed against your body. 

You couldn't breathe, not with his masked face hovering so close in front of your own. A surge of desire hit you strong and hard, everything about your date this evening fading from your mind as your eyes remained fixed on his parted lips. There was absolutely something undeniable happening right now; the tension between you both hung too heavy in the air to believe otherwise.

Breath coming in shallow, you'd forgotten that you were even holding something in your hand. Without warning you lost your grip, the coffee mug slipping from your loose fingers. But instead of it tumbling towards the ground, the Devil’s hand snapped forward and caught it half an inch from your hand. Wordlessly he reached around you, simultaneously trapping you further between himself and the kitchen counter as he set the mug down.

And then he stayed there, with the front of himself pushing you back into your counter so hard that you felt it biting into your lower back. His hand rose up in the minimal space between you both before lightly landing along your cheek. His gloved thumb brushed back and forth over your cheekbone so tenderly that your eyes fluttered shut beneath it. 

Exhaling a shuddering breath, you willed him to just put you out of your misery and kiss you already. The suspense and the back and forth were killing you. He had to be feeling something for you. His attitude tonight could only be attributed to jealousy, nothing else made sense. So this had to be the moment he just finally kissed you. It had to be.

An agonizing minute passed and all he'd done was remove his hand from your cheek. Your own hands still had a death grip on the counter behind you, keeping you steady as you desperately waited for something more to finally happen. But when nothing did, you released a defeated sigh and opened your eyes, wondering what was going through his mind right now.

But he was gone. 

[rubra-wav]

I had this interesting scenario where Vox one day becomes exhausted from his rivalry with Alastor after realizing that the one-sided interactions were becoming old. He later meets the reader (who can also be a part of the hotel) who starts hacking into Voxtech's database to troll the company for shits and giggles. This catches Vox's attention and he's pissed about it. You can do what you want for the rest but they continue to have this rivalry to the point where it's very well known around hell. From an outside perspective, there is just back-and-forth angry banter but there are moments where they're just;

Reader: *appears on screen* Hey Box head, guess who found some good blackmail with your name on it- Vox: *Is so close to having a breakdown, he had a bad week.* Reader: Oh shit- did something happen, are you okay? 😰

They hate each other but they don't hate hate each other. This can be taken as platonic or romantic. I sent this request to someone else but I wanted to share anyway.

Vox x troll/hacker reader: Why So Blue? (Oneshot/concept version)

Why So Blue fic Masterlist

A/N me when I get to write Vox getting utterly humiliated by a troll-y hacker demon 🫶

I changed about the order of stuff as things happen a bit and took creative liberties with this one - sorry if it's really different then the thought you originally had.

(REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, THIS WAS FROM THE LAST TIME THEY WERE OPEN)

Update: This was really well-received, and several people have requested a part 2. I've decided that I will be writing it properly from the start in a proper chapter kind of way rather than in this format so it makes continuity kind of work better rather then the drabbl-y format used here.

Cw: SFW, romantic, enemy's to lovers type beat, references to one-sided radiostatic, also references to staticmoth, mildly suggestive in one part 💀, gn reader, mostly light-hearted - idk if it qualifies as quite hurt/comfort lmao

- It was just a normal morning for Vox when you first showed up.

- As usual, he booted up for the day, got changed out of his casual clothes, and made his morning coffee.

- As he walked into his computer room, absentmindedly sipping his coffee while looking at his phone, he sits down in his desk.

- Then promptly spits out his mouthful.

- When he finally looks up at the screens around him, he's mortified to see a muted video of himself passionately (and very drunkly) singing and dancing horribly from last night while he was out with Valentino and Velvette.

- Posted on Sinstagram from his own account.

- Hundreds of comments flooded in underneath it; laughing, saying it's cute, complimenting his singing, and talking about the caption underneath with curiosity.

- The caption reads; 'For someone who talks so big about being ahead technologically, it was awfully easy to hack old Boxy here LMAO'

- Vox flips out instantly.

- It doesn't take long to take down the post, change all of his details, and post an official apology for his lack of professionalism with a hypnotising message to forget the whole incident occurred at all. He also does a massive comb over for any other breaches and changes all of his systems to be even more impenetrable to a potional attack.

- He calms down, and the incident fades away to the back of his mind.

- But then it happens again.

- Another morning, an employee is rushing into his studio as he wakes up properly, telling him this time that someone is somehow broadcasting Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' to the entirety of hell at 6 am, interrupting every one of the scheduled programs.

- There's a message in big letters on the bottom of every screen in hell, under the god forsaken video and song playing, saying, "What is love~? - U" Underneath them.

- And that's how it starts, the infuriating thorn in Vox's side that is 'U'. No matter how hard he tries, you're constantly undermining his efforts to keep you out of the system and tormenting him in ways that aren't necessarily malignant but are extremely damaging to his image as the overlord of technology.

- For some reason, he's the only Vee you seem hellbent on coming after as well. Vel finds your pranks funny or cute when they don't inconvenience her, and Valentino just likes to prod Vox into getting angrier further.

- He just cannot work out what your motivations are at all. Is it truly that you just want to piss him off? He doesn't understand why someone with such clear skills would simply use them to taunt him and leave him messages to unveil as he undoes whatever you do.

- It vexes him even farther when these messages from you that you leave for him to decode start to sound borderline flirtatious, which makes him feel all the more humiliated.

- He is a grown demon, skilled businessman and entrepreneur, an overlord, and yet you insist upon calling him things like Box, Boxbabe, Boxbitch, and even babygirl of all things for some goddamn reason.

- The back and forth goes on for months, and 'U' quickly becomes a long lasting meme, several people, much to Vox's horror, shipping you two together and even partaking in ship wars as to whether Vox x 'U' is better then Vox x Val.

- Theres one day where Vox quickly puts his phone down after reading a rather concerning expert from what is certainly explicit fanfiction between the two of you, even him deciding that that's enough internet for today while just sitting staring off into space silently for a solid 10 seconds.

- Vox's sleepless nights pouring over his code to try and keep out your attacks, him glitching out whenever he finds infuriating messages left by you, etc. Begin to become routine and he just anticipates the consistent blows to his pride you give him at every turn.

- A weird, unconscious part of him deep down begins to enjoy your rivalry, almost wanting to see what punches you pull out next to disarm his constant losing battle to keep you out, but it gets squashed down the second he becomes aware of it.

- The rivalry is always at arms length, but sometimes he has to stop himself from replying with the same vaguely flirtatious tone you take on whenever he experiences a small win against you.

- He fights to make sure he doesn't have any potential of getting too into it.

- Things take a different turn, though, with the double blow of Alastor coming back and his on-off relationship with Valentino once again going up in flames.

- After stopping his usual monitoring of all things going on in hell online and in real life as picked up by his cameras, he presses his face into his hands with a long, exhausted groan as he fights crying.

- All the people he was actually interested in were as unrequited as per usual. He always tried so hard with Alastor, but as always, he never got anything but met with the clear reminder they would never be anything more.

- And, of course, any potential of anything more happening with Val was completely off the table. It would be stupid to even think about anything real with him.

- He shut his eyes, putting his screen on the desk in front of him.

- Was he just not worth it? Was that it?

- He startled when he heard the familiar crackle of the speakers coming to life around him. It was rare he ever heard your voice coming through his speakers, you usually preferring to just leave messages, however you decided to surprise him tonight apparently.

- Your blurred out face appears on the screens, only showing the lower half of your grinning face.

- "Oh Boooooxybooooy! I found some world-shattering cringey shit you did 2 months back, i-" You begin singing out, before stopping, seeing by his expression.

- Vox was trembling, looking as if he was about fall apart at any second. His monitor was dulled, red eyes half lidded with pixelated bags forming under them, his bottom lip slightly quivering around his sharp teeth.

- "What the- fuck- ....are you alright?" You asked unsurely.

- Vox finally snapped out of it, realising that you were here witnessing him in a way that was very much not something he wanted you of all people to see him in. His mask slid back on, but it was hardly convincing.

- "Of course it is. What the fuck do you wa-ant. I've got shit to do." He inwardly cursed as his voice glitched slightly. God fucking dammit why did you have to show up.

- He watched your lips on your mostly blurred out face slightly curl as you hummed, clearly not buying it.

- "You wanna stop with the lying bullshit and tell me the truth, Boxhead?" You somewhat chided him, your hand coming into sight as you leaned your cheek onto it. Vox let out a growling sound, going to spit some vitriol at you, but was cut off as you absentmindedly made your next comment.

"Felt you once again have a fit about the radio demon going online. Lights in my house and the houses out my windows started flashing and shit. Is it hi-" your brows shot up and eyes widened, this hidden behind the censorship as you watched Vox, leader of the Vees, your rival, let out a shuddering breath and actually start crying comically pixilated tears right before your eyes.

- Vox's claws gripped into his desk as he grit his teeth as he let out a gasping breath he fought to stifle. He was so goddamn exhausted that he just couldn't be assed to keep it all up anymore. It wasn't like you hadn't seen rather unsavoury things he'd been trying to hide anyways.

- "No shit it's about Alastor. It's always about him. Does it get you off knowing I can't get with the guy I have always wanted no matter how hard I try? There. Are you fucking happy now?" His voice cracks as he snarls the words out at you.

- You let out a long humming sound, as if thinking. "I mean, not really. I'd only be happy if you were this upset over me, not some old hazbin radio announcer who fell off years ago." You shrug with a slightly sad smile.

- Vox squinted at you, confused.

- "I mean, come on, I'm your rival too. Why neglect me so much in all this?" You press your bottom lip out in mock sadness, tone mocking again. Your words are true despite the joking tone however, it did bother you that he always seemed so much more ready to go running after the most obviously aroace man you think you had seen in your entire fucking life.

- Vox couldn't believe what he was hearing, hot embarrassment caused his monitor to start heating up a bit, painting animated flush over his cheeks. "Oh, stop taking the piss, U. Fuck off." He scoffed, rolling his eyes, looking to the side in irritation.

- You chuckle at him, shaking your head and causing the thing blurring your face to shake with it. "Is it really that hard to believe I'm into what we have going on here?" Your voice is still lined with the usual tone you take on with him, but much less so.

- Vox looks back at your blurred, smiling face incredulously. "Yes." He growled, blinking his tears away as he regained his composure a bit.

- You sigh heavily, rolling your eyes. "Ooookay, well, once you're done riding the coattails of a man who will never want you, come hit me up, Boxhead." You say through smiling lips, before abruptly pressing 'hang up' on the call so he didn't have time to actually respond.

- Vox sat in bewildered silence, not able to react properly as his brain felt as if it was working on low resolution comprehending what you just said.

- His face heated up the more he thought about it, heart beginning to hammer in his chest as he laughed in disbelief. No way. No fucking way.

- But you had said it.

- Despite his usual pessimistic nature, he allowed himself to actually believe it, chuckling.

- He looked over to his phone as a notification sound rang out to see a photo of himself presumably just now; flustered, eyes wide in disbelief and unfocused while staring off into space, a crooked grin on his face.

- It was captioned as follows; 'POV: local pathetic radio simp finds out other rival actually wants him'

- "FUCK." He yelled out in embarrassment, knocking out several of his monitors with a surge of electricity.

I loved writing this sm omfggg.

There's definitely part 2 potential to this one, but it would have to be in a while w all the other stuff I'm gonna get to first.

Masterlist

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

i want you

kinktober, day twenty-five

a/n: okay but why haven't i thought of pirate captain!miguel till now? shame on me honestly because that's way too delicious

summary: “no, please!” you bellowed, tears nearly forming in your eyes, “I have money! Just name the price! I will give you anything I have to get out of here!”

warnings: pirate captain!miguel o'hara x upper-class!reader, smut, historical au, sex as payment, stripping, kissing, slight knife kink, dirty talk

word count: 830

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“So, let me get this right,” the gruff man behind the desk glared up at you through his furrowed brows, “you want to bid passage on this vessel? You are aware of what kind of ship this is, aren’t you, miss?”

“I am,” you stood your ground.  

“You, a lady,” he gestured to your fine dress, “willingly want to sail upon a pirate ship?”

“I want to get out of this town on a ship that isn’t under my father’s employ, that’s what I want.”

“What, is your bed too soft and your suiters too dashing?” he chuckled. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed, averting your gaze, “something like that…”

Looking you over a moment, he then let out a heavy sigh and said, “miss, I’m gonna do you a favour and tell you to get the hell off my ship before someone comes looking for you, or worse, my crew does, and their manners aren’t what you’re accustomed to.”

“No, please!” you bellowed, tears nearly forming in your eyes, “I have money! Just name the price! I will give you anything I have to get out of here!”

Narrowing his eyes, “…anything?” his head tilted at the possibilities.

“Yes,” you nodded desperately, “would you rather have my jewellery?” your hands shot up to your necklace, “then it’s yours.”

“I don’t want your jewels,” your fingers halted around the dainty chain, “or your money for that sake.”

“No, wait, please, I don’t care where you are going, what port you drop me off at, I just have to get out of here-”

“If I help you, then I want something different.”

Gazing back at his leisurely seat in his chair, you asked breathily, “what?”

Staring what felt like directly into your soul, he then uttered, “I want you.”

Blinking back at him a moment, you then stammered, “e-excuse me, sir?”

“Christ, you really are a lady…” he chuckled briefly at your bashful reaction, “look, I presume you can retrace your steps and find your way off this boat yourself-”

“No, no, I’m sorry, please don’t, I’m sorry, I just-… you want me?”

Gazing back at you, he stated confidently, “yes.”

“What, do you want me on your crew? Because I don’t have any sailing experience-”

“No, I wanna fuck you,” a shiver ran down your spine at his crude words, “so, either take off that dress or see your way out.”

After letting your desperation sway your deliberation, you carefully began to undo the overwhelming row of tiny silk buttons down the front of your garment. Letting the top part fall to the floor, soon joined the poufy fabrics around your legs. But when you reached back to pull at the laces on your corset, the knot was too stubborn for you to manage in an effortless second. 

Though suddenly, as the Captain got up and conjured a short blade from his leather boot, your fingers froze and your eyes grew in alarm, “what are you-”

“Relax,” he walked around the desk to where you stood, “I’m not gonna hurt you,” then gestured as he said, “turn around,” which you promptly did, letting out a stifled gasp as he cut through the strings, the stiff stays swiftly joining the pile on the floor. Chest heaving beneath your thin chemise, you felt his broad palm glide over your waist, begging you to turn back around, “it’s been a very long time since I’ve been with someone who wasn’t a whore…” your eyes didn’t meet his intense gaze as his touch fluttered up to ghost across your cheek, “honestly, I don’t know if I ever have…” 

As your vision finally flickered up to catch his, his fingers curled to graze his harsh knuckles across your cheekbone, searching your eyes as he seized your waist with his other hand and pulled you in close to taste your lips.

His kiss wasn’t at all like you had expected. It wasn’t foul and unpleasant, no, his lips nearly caused your knees to buckle. 

“You’re so soft,” his deep voice warmed you from within as he held you near, “like you’ve never lived a fucking day in your life…”

“I’ve lived,” you tilted your chin, “just not like you have, sir.”

“Oh, have you now?” a genuine chuckle bubbled out of him, “have you ever done anything like this before?” he spun you around and began to back you up, “I thought rich girls like you were kept in the dark and waited till marriage… are you married? Is it your husband that you’re running from?”

Answering both of his questions with three simple words, you uttered, “I’m not married.”

“Well, I’m not gonna take you like some stuck-up lord you’d have ended up with,” a swift hand sent parchments flying before he scooped you up onto the desk, his sly fingers playing with the softness of your stockings as he pushed your shift up your thighs, “I know way too much about pleasure to treat you that terribly…” 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[king4aday]

A Postcard Story:

So for Dean's 46th this year, he decides to drag his husband around the states in Baby, ordering radio silence from his family to enjoy the open road, wherever the road takes them.

Here's a thread of postcards he sends Sam along the roadtrip:

Seattle was a nice place to start, people are kind and there's a lot of good food he's never tried. Dean was just glad that Cas could fly Baby with them to get there. Don't get him wrong, angel flight sucks too, for his stomach in particular, but it's nowhere near as bad as a plane.

When they drove into Cali, he was glad they managed to see the bridge in all it's glory. Real movie moment for him. They relaxed in Santa Cruz for a while, enjoying the views along the Pacific coast highway. He brought the Hawaiian shirts they bought when they all went to Gran Canaria a few summers ago as a family, getting nice tans before moving on.

Cas didn't let him rest for long when they got to L.A, asking Dean to hear him out before getting mad as he dragged him out. All frustration disappeared when they arrived at the studio though, Dean nerded out about the themed restaurants and rides while there was a mustard stain on his chin from chili dog he devoured. Cas was just happy to eat a burger and see Dean smile.

Tombstone flipped the tables for them. Now Cas loves his husband's passion, it's one of the most endearing qualities, he'd never let anyone dim the brightness he has talking about cowboys and westerns. But it can be a lot sometimes. He was committed to buying them both a full cowboy outfit before they left. Plus a hat for Jack, a buckle for Sam, new cowboy boots for Eileen and souvenirs he could hand out to the family.

Despite it being hot as balls, Dean loved being in Texas again. They ate some good authentic barbeque and went to a few museums Cas was interested in. Dean liked hearing him talk about the old buildings, the history and changes the landscape went through and Cas liked seeing Dean take selfies in front of the world's tallest cowboy boots, having to stop him promptly from climbing it and potentially breaking his back from a fall.

They took it slow in New Orleans, strolling down the french quarter like they were a couple courting in some Edwardian romance. It was warm but not oppressive, content to walk aimlessly, hand in hand, while the sounds of buskers playing strings echoed around the alleys. They danced under a street lamp, and kissed sweetly when the moon rose, all he could think about was how he felt safe in Cas' arms.

Dean loved it in Downtown, he felt right at home, locals welcoming him and Cas with open arms. They passed him free drinks when they saw their rings, pushed him on stage to sing some tipsy version of 'Should've been a cowboy'. Cas seemed to find it funny. He wouldn't say why.

He'd forgotten what a real Philly cheese steak was supposed to taste like but fuck him, he can't ever go back. One of the owners happily gave him the recipe, challenging him in recreating the sandwich he ordered. He's not got it perfect yet, but he's determined. At least Cas is a bottomless pit who can eat all the failed attempts he makes, zero waste fun!

New York was strange. He kept thinking about all the eccentrics and wide eyed kids who probably had dreams he'd never even considered before. At least when he looks at Cas now, he doesn't think he's done badly, hell maybe he's living a dream these New Yorkers wish they had too. He can't imagine what it's like to hedge all your scraped money and efforts on a chance of making it big as any kind of artist. He's pretty sure he already hit the jackpot with his life.

Teaching Cas to fish in Maine was a tumultuous task to put it nicely. Cas is already bitchy enough and Dean knows he can give as good as he gets, but they agreed never to go on a tiny boat alone together if one of them doesn't want to be drowned. Not to say they didn't have a good time though. They enjoyed the quiet of the calm waters and the breeze on their skin. Cas' first successful catch of the visit put them at ease, hell they were gonna drink a bottle of whiskey to celebrate, he got a pretty big one after all.

Cas was really making use of that sketchpad. He bought it for his husband a couple hundred miles back, noticing him sketching absent mindedly whenever there was a moment of reprieve. Dean hasn't seen everything inside, but he's seriously amazed at Cas' talent. Who knew right? It's a good way to store the memories, something more personal than the dorky couple selfies they took together in front of the falls. He'll look through them fondly later, remembering the time he took to enjoy his life, and enjoy Cas. Both things he's taken for granted before. He's learned his lesson now.

“It was awesome, seriously, and the water was so clear too, y'know? I asked Cas about Paradise falls on the way home” “The one in Venezuela?” Sam surmises, nursing his beer with a small smile. “Yeah! Well he said that he'd been a couple times centuries ago and it felt pretty magical then, and then I said ‘Did you know they're called Angel Falls too?’ and he gave me that look–” “I did not give you that look.” Cas frowns. “You totally did, Sam, you know the one.” “I did not give any looks, I just said that I was aware, and that was that.” Sam watches them both roll their eyes fondly at each other, hands definitely held together under the map table. “Whatever, my point is, we should totally go there together! I mean with the Angel flight express we could camp somewhere pretty close to the falls themselves.” “Like in 'Up' ? I'm in!” Jack says with a bright smile. Dean high fives him and Cas just sighs in exasperation. Eileen watches them all fondly, chin resting on her hand, likely feeling the same longing ache Sam does easing as she watches them all in the same space again. Sam missed this. He was really happy that Dean wanted to take time away for himself, for Cas too. They deserved to disappear from the world and live some of the life they both missed out on. But damn did he miss his family's regular bullshit, nothing makes him happier. “You know what, that sounds like a great idea.” Dean looks back at him with surprise, but it quickly shifts into that signature grin. “That's what I wanna hear! I knew I could count on you Sammy.” “How about we feed you before you go taking us to the other end of the world? Can't plan for reckless journeys on empty stomachs.” Ellen segways smartly. Dean claps his hands and points at her in agreement and they all start to get up to move. Sam sits and watches for a few seconds, just to be grateful for what he has. “Sammy, you good man?” Dean asks, looking back over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah I'm good. Oh hey, Dean?” Dean raises his eyebrows in question. “Happy birthday.” Dean rolls his eyes, but smiles at him, and they walk together towards the kitchen.

💙💚

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 21

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; Sexual content; Animal death (hunting - not descriptive); Mild description of vomit; a little sad angsty moment; Non-con sedation

You had to admit that holy shit, it was nice to be out in the fresh air. It was cold as fuck, but you were bundled up in the coat that had been brought to you all those weeks ago. It sucked to keep it situated for easy gun and knife access but it was enough. Your feet were warm in your boots, two pairs of socks since they were a little big to accommodate any swelling of your feet as the pregnancy progressed but that only meant that your toes were nice and toasty. Leggings under maternity jeans were a hindrance when the baby decided to drop kick your bladder, but otherwise, necessary to ensure you didn’t get frostbite in very inconvenient areas, as well as your legs. 

You had been walking through the snow for about an hour before coming across any walkers. There were two, both women. One a little older than Beth and one about your own age. They moved slower in the cold, you had noticed. After putting them down, you became aware that their skin appeared to be freezing solid. 

“Walker popsicles. Huh.” You muttered, storing that information to share. Another fifteen minutes went by and you had still seen no game, so you decided to stop and rest. You weren’t necessarily out of shape but you were growing a human inside of you. That tended to take a bit out of the energy department. You had swiped a canteen and some of the jerky, partaking of both to make sure you could carry out what you came to do. 

“Alright, Thumper. Let’s see if we can figure out daddy’s weapon of choice. Can’t be that hard, right?” You promptly came very close to shooting a bolt into your own foot. You blinked at it and looked around as if there had been anyone else to see the incident before putting a hand to your belly. Thumper rolled as if just as shocked. “Let’s just keep that between us, okay?”

It was the operation that hindered you. Once you figured out the mechanics,—with about forty-five minutes of tinkering—aiming and firing were things that came naturally to you. Daryl was going to murder you when he had to fix everything you had fucked with in your exploration of the weapon. Collecting the bolts you had used for practice, you froze, eyes narrowed on the small indentations in the snow. Rabbits.

Small game was your specialty. You always hunted rabbits and squirrels when it was just you and father. There was nowhere to keep an abundance of meat in your small home. No smokehouse. It had been different when the family would come over, your aunt and uncles. They loved their venison and you never had to be concerned with wasting anything. 

The smile that lifted the corners of your mouth was one born of bittersweet longing. You wished your father could be there to meet his grandchild, but you were—at the same time—thankful that he wasn’t around to see what had truly become of the world, that it would never go back to how it used to be.

Still, you chuckled as you wiped away a tear. Your father would have had one hell of a time getting used to the idea of Daryl being the father, but in the end, he would have been the first to see through that rough exterior to the man hidden underneath. And he would not have wasted a single second before calling the archer out on it.

“If you’re a boy, I could name you after your grandad. Maybe after your uncle, if your daddy wants.” Daryl still hadn’t revealed much about his family. Maybe once he was better, you could sit with him and just talk, quid pro quo. You ask a question about him, and then him about you. He seemed to be okay with that sorta thing. He never liked being the center of attention.

He also appeared interested in learning about you in every way he could. It hadn’t taken you long to notice the way he picked up on things and filed them away. He knew how you liked your meat cooked when it was being eaten outside of a stew. He would take it from Carol and do it himself, usually. He knew how things touching the front of your throat made you feel uncomfortable, like scarves or the top buttons of a flannel, stopping Maggie from wrapping a rather pretty knit fabric around your neck one bitterly cold morning. 

Daryl also knew just how to touch you, how to curl his fingers inside of you and how much pressure you needed when his thumb would graze over your clit. He excelled in making you shiver by wetting his digits with your own arousal before dragging the tips over your skin to stimulate your nipples. He did all this while pressing soft kisses just behind your ear or over your pulse, everyone sleeping around you being none the wiser. It was always so incredibly erotic to be brought over the edge knowing that any of them could simply open their eyes and see that he was working you over. 

Maybe you could show him what you knew he liked while he recovered. You knew for a fact that he would groan if you lapped and nibbled at a specific area just above his collarbone. He would never admit it but you had noticed the way touching his nipples made his hips jerk when he was inside of you. The first time you’d gone down on him back in the woods, you had kitten-licked at his tip and pressed your thumb against the vein that ran underneath, dragging the digit up his length. He had clawed at the tree behind him so hard that you were certain he’d be picking splinters from beneath his nails afterward. 

It took a soft thump to the cranium, snow falling from a branch overhead, to bring you from your pleasant thoughts. With an ache between your thighs and the prospect of maybe getting some alone time with your boyfriend—you still needed to clarify what you could call him, if anything—while he wasn’t trying to evict his lungs from within his chest, you whined quietly. You kinda wished you had stayed there and were curled up in bed with him. Was he okay? Were the meds helping? Was Carol whacking him over the head with the bedpost to keep him from chasing you?

You had nearly convinced yourself to turn back when you saw the first rabbit, a decent sized cane cutter that would make a nice stew to last a couple of days. It hadn’t seen you and taking it down was easy since you had not yet shouldered the crossbow.

“One down, Thumper!” You took one step and then paused. “It’s kinda insensitive to call you Thumper when I’m hunting rabbits, isn’t it?”

You had two rabbits by the time at least three and a half hours had passed, a little disappointing but it was freezing and you did have to make periodic stops to put down walking corpses and even more stops to pee. You were feeling a little nauseous as well, so it was likely beyond time to head back. Maybe Daryl would rest just as well the next day and you could come back out since this excursion would show everyone you could handle yourself out there.

Wiping your knife across your thigh after yet another slow moving walker, you had barely secured it into the sheath before you noticed the tracks. 

Deer. 

A single deer, young but more than a year. Based on the depth of the tracks, you could likely manage to haul it back on your own if you could take it down. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you glanced at the way back to the house; back to Daryl. 

This was all for him, after all. The more food you could secure, the longer he could rest and recover. The decision was simple after that. Ensuring a bolt was loaded, you set out to do what you once did best. 

You were still her. 

The only differences were the people in your family were no longer an aunt and two uncles, the main man in your life was no longer your father, and you were 11 or so weeks away from having your own baby. You had never needed to be provided for, always the provider. There was no reason you and Daryl couldn’t share that responsibility. When the baby came, you’d adjust and adapt, providing differently and that was okay. The longer you could nurse Thumper, the easier it would make things. You’d step back then, let Daryl take over. It would be even more important to him then, the need to provide. You’d be a team, each caring for the baby in your own way. 

The prospect was equal parts exciting and terrifying. New parents in a dystopian world. It wasn’t impossible. It was just dangerous. Daryl had done so well, thinking ahead when he had cleared that Wal-Mart. So much that would be needed already secured, ready to carry with your group when moving from place to place. With a small, tender smile, you glanced at the bracelet for morning sickness you still wore. It likely no longer worked, but you couldn't really bear to part with it.

You wanted to search out a baby store eventually, or make a request for a run. Cloth diapers would be a lifesaver once the disposable ones had been used. Infant and children’s medications needed to be stocked. 

Thumper gave your ribs a jab, earning a hiss in response. “Okay, okay. I’m focused. Jeez, kid, can you be any more like your father?” 

The tracks were getting closer together in clusters, the deer stopping to check out areas in search of food. You were catching up, the falling snow not yet filling in the prints. In the back of your mind, you maintained an active regard for the time you’d been gone, one eye on the sun to ensure you’d make it back before dark. You would be late and you’d steered off course but you were confident.  You’d need to circle around and place yourself downwind soon if you wanted to stand a chance. This is what you knew. 

You’d meet up with the search party at the very least on your journey back. That is if Carol hadn’t grown anxious and sent them earlier. Or Daryl—dear god, if Daryl hadn’t somehow managed to drag himself out of that house. No, they wouldn’t let him. You had to believe that. It would be Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog. Maybe Maggie. They’d likely be sore at needing to come find you but if you were hauling a deer, that disgruntlement would likely be forgotten quickly. You just needed to ensure you succeeded and that you stayed safe. 

Just as you continued to track, you muttered a curse at a slow shuffling walker. One bolt needed to remain untainted for hunting and, so far, your knife had been sufficient but you were closing in on your target. Using the crossbow would be ideal for the dead at that juncture. Nearly silent kills. The crossbow was level with your eyes when you saw it.

The doe’s head perked up just beyond some snow-covered shrubbery, ears twitching. “Fuck.” You whispered. You had to take the deer first or risk it running from the walker. It had already spotted the threat, getting ready to move. There was no time to think. The deer went down easily, your muttered apologies and gratitude for what it would provide for your group were unheard as you dropped the bow and sprinted for the corpse. 

Loading another bolt would take too much time, the deer would be lost to the walker. You were already cutting it close this way, the snow and the off-centered weight of your belly slowing you down. Just as the dead man began to fall on top of your kill for the unearned feast, you tackled him. There was a jolt of pain in your midsection but your knife was already sinking into an eye socket, the deed done. 

“Ow,” you muttered. Scanning the area for threats as you unzipped and moved clothing, raising your sweater to look at the deep red mark on the side of your belly, just below your right rib cage. “Fuck.” A knee or elbow must have been angled just right to jab you on impact. “You okay in there?” Your sweater still rolled up, you laid your knife on your thigh and caressed the taut skin with both hands. “Come on, Thumps, need you to move.” A foot or hand pressed firmly into the injured side. “Okay, okay! Point taken! No more tackling walkers. Ouch, you little gremlin.” With a huff, you adjusted your clothing. You’d have Hershel look you over and check on the baby when you returned. 

Wiping your knife on your jeans, you secured it on the sheath and crawled over to the deer. It remained unsullied and perfect to feed your family. It was a clean, quick kill and it didn’t suffer. You were always thankful for those. 

“Alright, let’s get this back—” No time to register what was happening before you tilted over to retch violently. “Shit.” You panted, looking away from the mess of bile, water, and undigested jerky. Of course this couldn’t just go smoothly. Once again, the world had decided to fuck you. “At least Daryl beat it to getting me pregnant.” You laughed at your lame joke and laid back against the belly of the deer to catch your breath. 

“Fucker.” You growled, angling your leg to kick the man's corpse. The baby moved as you laid there, the slightly ripple showing beneath your coat and sweater. “Oh, hey. I could see that.” You smiled, rubbing your very upset stomach. “Your father is gonna skin me right along with this deer.” You nodded to yourself. Closing your eyes, you took deep, calculated breaths in an attempt to gain control over the nausea. 

But when they opened again, it was dark, the sun having fled and the moon bright in the star-filled sky. You groaned as you sat up, checking yourself and the area around you for any signs of walker activity. No bites. Your deer was frozen but whole. Shaking off the snow that had gathered on you, you rubbed your hands together, digging through the pockets of your coat with numb fingers in search of your gloves. 

“You good in there, Thumps?”

Nothing. 

You had just finished pulling on the second glove before stilling to stare at your round stomach hidden beneath your coat. “Thumper?” You had grown so accustomed to the baby reacting when you spoke that to feel such stillness made your chest tighten. “Baby?” Swallowing hard, you adjusted your clothing again, shivering when the chill of the night air struck your belly. “Come on, baby, can you move for mama?”

What if the baby had died inside you? Does the virus affect a fetus? What if you carried the baby only for them to be born a walker? 

Then there was movement, gentle ripples below the skin. Some that you could see, some that you couldn’t. But the thought remained, a very real terror that your baby could already be dead and just trying to get out. 

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. You could only jerk your eyes back and forth at the sound of footsteps getting closer. 

“Whatcha sittin’ in the snow for, Peanut?”

Now you definitely couldn’t breathe. There, bathed in moonlight, standing on two very there, very functioning legs, was your father. “Dad—daddy?”

“Hey, there.” You sat stock still, sweater still rolled up, eyes still frozen on him as he approached and crouched in front of you. “Let’s get you all fixed up here.” Gentle hands fixed your clothing, zipped your coat, and ruffled your hair.

“Am I dreaming?” You asked with the slightest wobble to your voice. 

“‘Fraid so, Peanut-butter.” When the sound that punched out of you was like a painful sob, he was ducking to find your eyes. “Hey, hey. None of that.”

“I miss you.” You sniffled, letting him pull you close with his chin on your head. “There’s so much—”

“I know, baby girl. I’ve been watching.” He pulled back, thumbing away your tears. “Gonna be a grandpa, I see. Daddy wouldn’t have been my first choice but he surprised me.”

“You like him?” You smiled, lopsided and silly, giggling when he rolled his eyes. 

“No father thinks any man is good enough for his little girl, but this one? Well, he keeps surprising me.” He offered you a hand, pulling you up with him as he stood. “He needs you. He’s always needed you just as much as you’ve needed him. So you need to get you and my grandbaby back to him before he loses his mind.”

“But the baby—”

“Is fine.” He chortled, gently stroking your cheek. “You’ll be an amazing mama, Peanut.” He was starting to fade right before your eyes. “You’ll see.”

“Don’t go.” You pleaded, hands passing through his shoulders when you tried to pull him back. 

“I’m so proud of you.” His voice was echoing, distant even when you could still see his face. “You’ll be fine, all three of you. But now you need to wake up.”

A tear was frozen to your temple, pulling at your skin there when your eyes opened. Snow peppered down from the dark sky, the moon barely visible beyond the clouds. You felt no panic, breaths coming calmly and the baby kicking periodically, even if it did smart when the little extremities connected with the sensitive injury. 

You winced pulling yourself away from the deer you knew would be at least partially frozen. The meat would keep, at least. You’d let the men handle the thawing and prepping anyway. The area was dark, no signs of flashlights or sounds of voices. They had either passed you by or never came at all. 

It wouldn’t matter in the end. 

Because you were going back to them.

Getting to your feet, you gathered your things and prepared to drag the deer. It would likely be about 115 pounds so carrying it was unlikely. You wouldn’t risk leaving it for later retrieval, not when 45 to 50 pounds of meat was likely from that single kill. Hell no. 

You had once dragged Daryl while he was soak and wet and he had at least 60 pounds on that deer. This was doable. You just needed to think. Eyes darting around, you let your fingers drum on your tummy while you pondered. With a deep breath, you started to believe you’d just be dragging the damn thing by hand but then you noticed the walker you had put down. Grabbing your knife, you grinned like a damn fool and set to work.

Lori was pacing in front of the door, watching the men prepare to leave. “You should have already been out there hours ago! Before dark, Rick!” When the deputy stood with a sigh, she didn’t back down. “Do you remember when the decision was made to leave Daryl out when he didn’t come back? Who went to get him? What shape he was in when she brought him back?”

“Yes, I remember, okay! I was just trying to give her the benefit of the doubt! She seemed like she had something she wanted to prove.”

“She said four hours. Carol came to you before that because we were about to lose Daryl on a crazy quest to find her.” Maggie was looking at Glenn but then sent a pointed glance to each of them.

“He’s gonna have a lot to say when he finds out you waited, especially after what we had Hershel do.” Carol said from her spot on the top of the stairs. 

“What did Hershel do?” All eyes turned to you in the doorway, dropping the straps you had made from the walker’s overalls. It was Lori that made it to you first, her arms winding around you awkwardly with two different sized bumps barring the way.

“Carol told us you had left to hunt and all I could think about were the things I said upstairs.” The other woman’s eyes were wet and sincere. With a smile, you pulled off one of your gloves and wiped a thumb below her eye. You didn’t say anything because what could you say? She had been incredibly insulting to Daryl and you wouldn’t speak for him. Maybe she would get the hint and talk to him eventually. Maybe not. 

You looked past Lori toward Rick, T-Dog, and Glenn. "Got a deer and two rabbits." Then your next smile, wry as it was, aimed up the stairs. “What did Hershel do, Carol?” Carl and Beth came thumping out of the kitchen, throwing their arms around you. You hugged them close while your eyes flitted over to the old veterinarian himself walking along the banister from Daryl’s room. You were gentle when pulling away from the kids, tossing a kills are on the porch, have fun at the men while you began your ascent. 

Carol fell in step with you. 

“Before anything else,” you started, unzipping your coat, “I had a literal run-in with a walker. Hershel, can you—?” You rolled up your sweater, the skin already bruising. 

“Has the baby been active?” He asked immediately, probing the area with tenderness while the other hand struggled to place his stethoscope in his ears.

“It’s Nascar in there, I promise.” You felt the baby squirm slightly before they settled again, your eyes on the old man’s face, watching for any concern. You found none and let out a breath when he straightened.

“Seems like all is well. Heartbeat is just fine and it is indeed the Indy 500. You were lucky.” There was a bit of a reprimand in that last statement, one you couldn’t say was unwarranted. Nodding in agreement, you made up your mind that as long as the meat could last until Daryl was on his feet, you wouldn’t venture out alone again.

You then turned to Carol. You had told her to do whatever it took to keep him there, even knock him out. If Hershel was involved, you assumed the knocking out was of a medicational nature. He wasn’t dead, they would have been smart enough to tell you that around people that could restrain you. “Okay, what’s the damage?” You asked from just beside the doorway, afraid to look inside just yet. “Is he tied down?” Carol shook her head.

“He was determined, Y/N. He pulled out the IV, only made it to the stairs before collapsing. They couldn’t get him back into the room, weak as he was, he fought all three of those grown men.” Hershel sighed. “I gave him a very small dose of morphine. It was enough to sedate him without compromising his respiration.” 

You groaned. That man was going to verbally rip you a new asshole, but you’d take it with grace because it was going to keep him safe and give him more time to recover. As long as the meat was prepared and rationed correctly, it could last a while. Maybe that would give you a chance to get back on his good side. 

He needs you. He’s always needed you just as much as you’ve needed him. 

“Okay, so what do I need to do?” You asked, finally rolling your back against the wall to place you inside the room. Daryl was out. You had never seen the man so unconscious, and you’d seen him nearly die. That was a frightening thought. The plus side was that his color was so much better and the rattle in his chest couldn’t be heard until you were much closer. He didn’t stir in the slightest when you sat down next to his left hip, all the way around toward the wall, avoiding the arm with the replaced IV. 

“You won’t need to do much of anything. Monitor his breathing and fetch me if it gets too slow. It shouldn’t with the dose I gave him but his body has been fighting a horrific illness, so we can’t be too careful. It’s been a couple of hours so it will likely start wearing off soon, regardless. When he wakes up, make sure he drinks and encourage him to cough. Coughing and keeping the lungs free of mucus and liquid is crucial.”

You were nodding almost robotically, your fingertips just brushing his hair back and forth with no particular rhyme or reason. Just touching him. 

“His fever has yet to break but it’s lowered dramat—is she even listening to me?” Hershel finally asked Carol, who chuckled and leaned across Daryl to clasp your shoulder until you looked at her.

“Watch how he breathes, don’t let it get too slow. Only for an hour or so. Get him to cough and drink when he wakes up. Fever has come down but hasn’t broken. I’ll come tell you when to give him more tylenol. Okay?” 

You smiled, both embarrassed and grateful. “Okay.” With a nod to Hershel and an eye roll at Carol’s wink, you watched them shut the door. 

Your hand on his cheek had to be freezing. They had just said his fever was down but he felt like a furnace to you. Shit. You were still in the clothes you had been wearing out in the snow. Coat, boots, jeans, and one pair of socks were quickly shed, you were in your sweater and leggings with your thicker socks still covering your feet. You’d been gone long enough and couldn’t seem to wait another second to crawl onto the bed with him. He shivered once but settled, his head turning toward you. You thought for a moment he might wake but he remained still. 

With a deep breath, you settled yourself against his shoulder so that you could look up at his face. “I know you’re going to be mad as fuck at me, and I get it. You have a right to be and I won’t tell you otherwise. I was careful, I promise.” Your palm settled on his chest, feeling his heart lazily thump against it. “I have a—well, it’s just a bruise. Hershel looked at it. Thumper’s okay. I’m okay.” Why were you even talking? He was sound asleep. “I didn’t like being away from you while you were so sick. I don’t think I would have liked it even if you weren’t sick.” 

Your hand left his chest for your fingers to dance along his jaw while you admired just how peaceful he looked. No lines of worry or pain. Just resting, fully relaxed. Seeing him like that just made your own exhaustion compound into something nearly unavoidable. With a large yawn, you snuggled closer and placed your hand back on his chest, counting his breaths like sheep. You knew you were losing the battle to stay awake, a tinge of worry sparking to life in your chest until you felt him move, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head. He wasn’t so sedated that he couldn’t move. 

Sighing, you smiled and finally let your eyes drift closed. “I love you.” You whispered, too far gone to react when the hand sporting the IV came to rest on top of yours.

“Me too, crazy girl.”

[bratdotcom]

Stay (The Hell Away from me)

( Billy Butcher x reader || neighbor!au, soft angst, Billy is caught yearning, good ending ♡ )

“You know I can’t stay long, luv. Ye know how it is.” Butcher sighs through his teeth, holding, almost gripping onto his phone. He can feel you hesitate to speak, your side of the line going quiet as you decide what to say. He could picture it clearly in his mind, as if you were right in front of him.

“I just want to see you, Billy.” You reply, leaning your cheek against the screen of your phone. God you missed him. How long has it been since the last time you saw him? Days blurred into weeks, weeks turned into months. Months and months of radio silence.

Butcher juts out his lower lip as he thinks of what to do. Endless possibilities leave his mind, in one ear, out the other. All of them end in him leaving you. But he couldn’t bear to do that. You could’ve just left him for dead on your street, but you didn’t. It’s been a while since he’s met someone as genuinely kind as you.

The world you both lived in was fucked, and Butcher didn’t know if you knew that or not but you made living more bearable for him.

Fuck it.

He sighs again. “I’ll be there in ten.” he says, one of his hands readily grabbing onto the wheel. He puts his phone on speaker as he places it onto the passenger’s seat, wanting to hear your voice one last time before he sees you in person.

You smile, even though he can’t see you. “I’ll be waiting.” you say, promptly hanging up after.

He arrives at your back door, rough knuckles gently knocking against its flimsy screen. Butcher unknowingly sneers as he waits on your back porch. The screen itself looked half-done, barely being kept in place by a rusty-looking metal door frame. He could probably do a better job drunk than whoever the hell installed your screen door.

Maybe one day, he’d come by with his tools, offering to fix your door as an excuse to see you again. Maybe you’d offer him lemonade as a way of saying thank you.

Knowing you, the lemonade would probably be more sweet than his liking, With sugar decorating the rim of the glass.

He’d bear through it. If it meant he could see you.

You finally open the door, hugging him immediately after. He freezes up, not expecting you to hug him so quickly. Your hands run up the sleeves of his trenchcoat, your arms wrapping around the collar. Already, you were caring for him. Without even realizing it.

“I missed you.” you say softly, resting your head against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, every little rise and fall of his breath. His hands gently rested against the small of your back, Butcher was genuinely scared of hurting you.

“I missed ya too, luv.” he says back, the usual gruffness in his tone softening.

Shrugging off his coat and putting his boots near the door, Butcher follows you to your living room. The couch creaks under his weight. He watches as you hand up his coat, leaning against the couch cushions.

As soon as you turn around, he pats his thigh, inviting you to sit in his lap. He wished he could grow used to this. Hell, wanted to grow used to this.

Eagerly, you sit down, wrists perched against his broad shoulders as you kiss his lips. Butcher melts into the kiss, leaning in with his hands resting on your hips.

He tilts his head, the coarseness of his beard rubbing against your chin.

Butcher pulls away for air, a stupid smirk on his face as he sees you catch your breath. “Missed me that much, eh luv? Outta breath all because of me?” he teases, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at you.

“Shut up.” you say back, and he does that. You lean in for more, his hands scoot you closer to him by the hips. Being the man that he is, he pulls away in between kisses to make even more comments. “Can’t get enough of me, huh? Look at you, all desperate f’me like you’ve never kissed anyone else but me before. It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here for ya.” Butcher was admitting things he didn’t even realize he was saying, they came naturally to him.

He was saying things he’d probably admit after at least five shots of jack, things he’d probably never tell to your face.

And yet here he was, saying these things. While having you in his lap.

Pulling away and looking up at him, your eyes soften. “You really mean it?” You ask, mindlessly fiddling with the chain around his neck.

“I..” for a moment, he hesitates to reply. He's pushed away so many people in his life that he was scared of pushing you away too.

“I do.” He says, looking back at you with the most sincerity you've ever seen in his eyes.

“I really do mean it, luv.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Darry came home to odd shit in his house all the time. To be fair he was related to two 'n the others, well, he couldn't get rid of them now. But other than its occupants, Darry was used to comin' home to cans twisted up to look like little men, knives stuck in the wall holdin' up keys or notes, 'n the odd beer bottle with a candle stuck down in it. His brothers had an affinity for the type of decor that would be home in a kindergarten class 'n Darry had to pick his battles. Glory knows they gave him his choice.

Hell, last month he'd come home to three traffic signs mounted around his living room. He'd promptly forced Soda, Steve, Two, 'n Dallas to return them to wherever the hell they had taken 'em from. They had bitched 'til kingdom come until Darry had threatened to load them up into the truck with those forsaken signs 'n call the damn cops on them himself. Of course, he hadn't meant it. They'd trudged out with one sign between the four of them swearin' they'd come back for the others too. And, naturally, they got caught.

Soda had used his one phone call to beg Darry to pick them up, Steve to whine about how they'd only gotten caught 'cause Darry had made them put them back, 'n Two to make a long series of jokes that ended with Darry threatenin' to leave him there for the night. Dallas had apparently elected to call Tim to bitch instead. 'N Tim had called him. Glory, he should have just left them there forever.

Since both groups were firmly blamin' the opposite party for the events of that night, Darry had elected to save himself the damn headache 'n just let them leave the two signs they hadn't managed to return on their walls. The odd street sign would still sometimes show up, but as long as they weren't important ones Darry simply pretended they weren't there.

So when he trudged into the house 'n glanced at the peelin' wallpaper, he wasn't necessarily surprised to see the new addition. He toes off his boots 'n hangs his keys on the knife buried so deep in the wall none of them can get it out. Darry makes an absentminded mental note to ask one of the men on his crew about it. Pony knew his son 'n he's sure he'd seen worse.

He turns to take a look at whatever was simmerin' on the stove when he catches his name on the piece of paper haphazardly drawn out into a chart 'n pinned to the wall.

In descendin' order the chart reads angelic, good enough, toein' the line, in the shit, Darry's gonna kick your ass, capital F fucked.

"Hey y'all, what the hell is this?" Pony looks up from the kitchen table where him 'n Soda are scratchin' away at old clothes pins. Pony's holdin' a pen knife clenched in his fist, stabbin' away far too close to his fingers for comfort. Darry reaches over 'n adjusts his grip, whackin' him gently on the head.

Steve ducks into the kitchen, brandishin' his own clothespin. He shoots Darry a grin 'n clips it to the chart at angelic. Darry can see his name carved into the side. "Provin' a point is what it is."

"Knock that shit down to fucked- you're pissin' me off." Pony scowls, goes back to his project, lookin' at Darry pointedly as he moves his fingers away.

"Ok. Well. Anyone wanna explain the point to me or am I gonna have to figure it out myself?" Darry sighs, glances into the living room where Two-Bit has been conspicuously silent. He's standin' on the couch, tongue between his teeth 'n brow furrowed as he frantically screws a yield sign into the wall, not noticin' Darry at all. "Two-Bit Matthews!" Two's head whips up at him with a big grin, droppin' the screwdriver 'n leanin' against the wall to block his handiwork like Darry hadn't just watched him for a full ten seconds.

"Darry! What are you doin' here?" Darry rolls his eyes 'n Soda snickers from somewhere behind him.

"Oh fuck, Soda, casserole." Soda scrambles up from the table so fast his chair falls backward. Darry shakes his head 'n sighs.

"Two I live here."

"So... come here often?" Both Pony 'n Steve snicker 'n then glare at each other like it was a cardinal sin that they both find the same joke funny.

"I'm gonna close my eyes 'n if that damn sign is gone by the time I open them I won't kick your ass." Darry drops his head against the door frame 'n shuts his eyes 'n Two mutters fuck 'n dives for the screwdriver. "Now would be an excellent time to explain that shit on my wall, by the way, Pone." Darry prompts, eyes still shut. Glory, he could fall asleep right there in the doorway.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck." Soda opens the oven 'n the distinctive smell of burnin' food pours into the kitchen. Darry raises an eyebrow 'n turns half around.

"Hey, don't open your eyes yet I'm workin' on it!" Two shrieks 'n Darry manages to roll his eyes with them still closed.

"Lordy, fine. Soda, lil' buddy? All good?" There's half a second of silence 'n then Soda snorts a laugh.

"Anyone want Dairy Queen for dinner?" Darry lets out an almighty sigh 'n Soda makes a disappointed sound in the back of his throat.

"Well, worth a shot. PB 'n J guys?" Pony groans 'n Darry can hear the thunk as he drops his head hard onto the table.

"Pone, this shit on my wall?"

"Oh. Steve thinks he's less of an asshole than I am. 'N I think he's a liar. So we're provin' it-"

"Nuh-uh. The kid thinks he's better behaved 'n I think that's horseshit. So we're doin' a chart to prove that he's the one always actin' like a hooligan-"

"Who are you callin' hoologian? Don't you have your own house? Why don't you stop loiterin'-"

"You're just mad Soda actually picked my ass 'n got stuck with you-"

"Glory God almighty. This shit's like, what? A behavior chart? What level is pissin' me off 'cause you're both there right now."

"Darrr-"

"Aw, man c'mon. We didn't mean it." Darry stops noddin' off standin' up to glance over his shoulder at Pony 'n Steve. Their fightin' damn near forgotten they're both starin' at Darry with twin pouts. Darry actually snorts a laugh before he swallows it down, muffles it with a cough.

He fixes them both with a glare 'n jerks a thumb at the chart. "C'mon. Both of you down to, uh," He peeks over his shoulder at the rankin', "in shit. I'm sick of you fightin'." He really doesn't know what he expects but he can tell you what he doesn't. 'N that's for both Steve 'n Pony to glower at each other but shuffle sadly over to the wall to fix their clips 'n then plop back down at the table 'n actually knock it off.

"C'mon, if I have to get knocked down for just ribbin' the kid then Two better get knocked down for that sign shit." Two lets out an indignant gasp 'n clutches a hand to his chest, finally reappearin' in the kitchen with the sign held behind his back.

"What sign?" Darry narrows his eyes at him in contemplation, rockin' his jaw back 'n forth like he always does when he's thinkin'.

"Yeah, alright. You're below Steve 'n Pony." Two's jaw drops open 'n he lets out an indignant wail.

"Woah, woah, woah! C'mon I'll patch the hole I put in the wall." Darry opens his mouth 'n Two barrels on. "In fact I'll even patch the holes from the last one too." Two wheedles, droppin' the sign behind his leg, foldin' his hands together 'n blinkin' up at Darry.

"Fine. You can be on Steve 'n Pony's." Two hoots 'n snatches one of the unmarked pins, scratchin' his name into it 'n slidin' it over Pony's.

"Hey!"

"That's not fair!"

Darry rolls his eyes. "Well, I didn't hear any offers from you two." Two grins smugly at them, Steve flips him off 'n Pony sticks out his tongue.

Soda snatches up his, suddenly very interested in the proceedin's. "Where am I, Dar?" Darry studies him, finger pressed to his lips.

"You can be in toein'. All you did was burn dinner, that's in your nature I should have known better." Darry ruffles his hair when Soda lets out a little scoff. He flounces past Darry, stickin' his tongue out at Steve 'n puttin' his clip the highest of all of them with great flourish.

"Hey Dar, why don't we get somethin' if we don't get bad marks for the week?" Pony sticks his bottom lip out a lil' 'n Darry rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, I'll tell you what you get. Your ass not kicked."

"Aw, c'mon Dar. What if when we stay good we get Dairy Queen?" Darry leans against the door frame. Studies his kid brothers gathered in the kitchen as they all blink back at him 'n suddenly remember somethin' they all have in common.

"How about this, if you all stay in the black you get Dairy Queen at the end of the week." Two 'n Soda let out a whoops 'n Pony 'n Steve grin. Darry puts up a hand to indicate he ain't finished yet. "'N the lowest one has to pay."

A fierce urge to win. Especially against each other.

They all stop, eye each other with sharp-toothed grins 'n mischievous smirks.

Well. For once one of Steve 'n Pony's fights had done Darry a favor. 'N he had a feelin' that stupid chart was about to make his life a whole lot easier.

[dear-mrs-otome]

Here is Jude's drunken story with ZERO GUARANTEES MADE - this will not be entirely accurate, both by design and by accident. Enjoy my shitbrained version of a summary 💕

Jude and Ellis are assigned a mission to investigate/deal with rumors that a certain bar is engaging in human trafficking - getting women drunk and then selling them. Kate, being our do-gooder, asks if she can help of course, and Jude suggests she can go undercover as an employee if she wants to help. Kate is like, I'm sorry whut?? But Jude just smirks and challenges her - she said she wanted to help, is she gonna back out of it?

Kate declares she'll do it and thus finds herself employed at the bar, albeit more than a little nervous about flying solo on this. A fancy-looking fellow walks in and looks around before taking a seat at the bar, and the manager calls to Kate.

She bustles over and the fancy man says it looks like she's working hard - how about he buys her a drink as a reward?

She's handed a glass and recalls how the MO here is to get girls drunk and then sell them, so she hesitates. Sleazy Fancy Man says if she can't drink it he'll ‘help’ her, and she's spluttering for him to please stop as he begins forcing the glass to her mouth. The moment it touches her lips though she hears -

“The hell ya doin’?”

Shocked, Kate watches as Jude suddenly appears, grabs the glass, and downs the whole thing himself. Equally as shocked is Fancy Man, who immediately tries to scramble away before promptly being sent sprawling, tripping over Jude's foot. A smirking Jude says he seems to be pretty scared - what's he trying to hide? Oh right, can't just come out and say you're trying to buy a girl can you?

Ellis takes down the manager as he's trying to haul ass out of the bar too, and with a sadistic grin Jude kicks the dude in the side of the face and gleefully suggests they spill their guts.

After they've confessed and the bar has been shut down, Jude has Ellis take the two men away. He and Kate are walking back home, but she notices he's been uncharacteristically quiet. Usually he'd have been busy bitching her out by now, but tonight it's just crickets. And the moment she opens her mouth to say something, reaching out to him, his whole body sorta lurches.

Kate’s all JUDE! and she steadies him, noticing his breath is hella hot on her cheek as she does. She's like, holy crap are you sick??!

Jude calls her an idiot for even suggesting that, but he's standing there in kind of a daze, face red as he tells her - “There was something in the drink.”

Kate commences freaking out harder, all OMG WHUT ARE YOU OKAYYYY and earns Jude griping at her to quit her noisy-ass shouting. She tells him they gotta get him to Roger ASAP, and giving him her shoulder she hauls ass back to the mansion and Roger's basement.

Surprised to see them, Roger asks if Jude got hurt but Kate hurriedly explains the situation and Roger gives him an exam. He says there's nothing major going on, just that the drink had something in it that amplifies alcohol - makes you drunker faster. Nothing to worry about.

Kate's hella relieved, and Roger summarily boots them outta his lab, saying he doesn't have time to babysit drunk people AKA Jude is her problem now.

Since her room is closest, Kate drags Jude there. She's about to go grab him some water when he calls out an ‘Oi’

- and when she turns to ask what's up she suddenly finds herself flat on her back on the bed, Jude straddling her. He's like…JFC woman you seriously have zero concept of danger don't you?

His large hand caresses her stomach and works her blouse up, and Kate gasps out - what are you doing??? As she's sorta flailing, Jude grabs her and easily pins both wrists above her head with his other hand.

“...Why were you gonna drink it?” He asks, deapan. Kate sputters that she WASN'T going to, which only makes Jude scowl. “You had your mouth on it.”

“Why did you drink it?” Kate fires back.

His answer is to put his free hand back on her stomach, and Kate can't help the involuntary little squirm she makes at the feel of his warm fingers. Jude smirks and calls her dirty for getting all excited, which Kate vehemently denies…all the whole totally aware of how her embarrassment shows in her eyes.

Jude gets his patented sadistic look on his face as he asks if dat pussy she wants to be well and truly pounded...and when he lowers his mouth to lick her stomach, she can't stifle her cry.

Then, serious expression back, Jude tells her this'll be a good learning opportunity for such a hella perv - just before he bites down on her stomach, hard.

The sudden sensation has her whole body seizing up, her sight wavering, unable to tell what is pain and what is pleasure. Both all jumbled up.

“You really…” Jude starts to say something, but before he can finish, his whole body gives out and he flops down atop her. Kate panics, then realizes as he winds up holding her that he's passed the fuck out, peaceful expression and all. The complete mood change from moments earlier has her totally drained, unable to do much more than watch him sleep. Wrapped in his arms and the scent of tobacco and sandalwood she closes her own eyes too.

The next morning she wakes up, all uncomfortable, and realizes she's got a Jude blanket - his arms still around her and remembers he passed out like that, holding her. As she starts struggling to get free of his embrace, Jude wakes up and asks wtf she's doing.

FULL ON AWKWARD she's got Jude eye contact up close and personal as she manages a ‘good morning’ which he promptly scoffs at. And she tries not to think too hard about how sad she feels when he lets go of her…but as she watches him pour a glass of water something comes back to her.

“Why did you drink that drink yesterday?” She presses again.

Jude’s all, ehhhhh? Before brushing it off as the fact that if he'd dumped it out there'd have been no evidence so he'd taken it himself instead as proof basically. And he offers to get her some of the stuff if she wants it so badly and pour it down her throat.

Kate (who by now we're all aware can totally see through him) thinks how she KNOWS he most likely just did it to protect her.

Jude puts his coat back on and scowls. “You brought me all the way back here, and had that quack take a look at me…so we'll call things even between us.”

He stalks out of the room with that, leaving behind a stunned Kate. Sitting up tho she winces, and looks down to find a raw bite mark on her stomach. She traces it with her fingers, heat running through her as she does, then smashes her face into the pillow in a state of WHAT THE FUCK, ME?? mortified. Convinced she's not gonna even begin to forget about last night until those marks fade away.

[lanormie]

blipped - mcu crossover au (pt. 3)

what if? the event of Thanos snap happened in the BNHA universe? you're forced to navigate the aftermath of The Blip, where half of the population get thrown back into existence after disappearing for five years. pairing: pro-hero!Shouto x f!pro-hero!reader (ft. slight katsuki x reader) read on AO3 previous part - next part

*cw: grief, loss, survivor's guilt

Despite the reappearance of billions of people, the resurgence still turned out to be a mass casualty event. Cases of missing persons are still in the millions as communication and transportation break down, while cases of confirmed death keep ticking up by the second. It couldn’t be avoided that some people got blipped back into extremely dangerous conditions, whether it’s a highway, on a flight above a remote region, in the middle of a demolition, or in extreme weathers. 

The domino effect only took things further. The newscaster was reporting about a case where a person blipped back into a bus driver seat which made the driver swerve into a crowd of people when Rei decided it was enough and turned the TV off. She’s herded you to the kitchen for lunch and let the calming music from the record player fill the room instead, and you’re thankful for it.

It’s Fuyumi’s day off but she’s headed for the school anyway. “They’d need as much help as possible”, she said, citing some of the teachers not being able to make it today. The trains haven’t been able to keep up with the sudden surge in demand and are heavily backed up. On top of that, a few lines haven’t been back to operation due to several incidents that had happened on some of the tracks. Roads are either closed or witnessing traffic stand-stills as more and more people opt to abandon their cars. 

Shouto insisted you stay home with Rei while he went back to the agency, mostly to get up to date about everything and sign you both in as the Commission will be expediting the license renewal for whoever reported back. He promised to reach out through Rei if they needed more boots on the ground, since you don’t have your phone anymore, but it’s been a good few hours already and you haven’t heard anything from him. The initial relief of not having to go back has faded as the news plays over and over in your head, and now you’re just plain antsy. 

Surely they’d want more people out there? 

The doorbell rings, nearly sending your dissociating ass flying off the chair.

“Would you mind getting the gate, sweetheart? The oven’s going off any minute now.”

“Sure thing Auntie!”

As you make your way past the pond towards the front gate, you swear you could hear some faint bickering from the other side, as if there’s a whisper shouting match going on, though it promptly stops once you’ve started fiddling with the latch. Cautiously pulling the gate open, you’re greeted with Hawks’ signature grin, and Touya, who immediately narrows his eyes at you. 

“What the fuck are you doing here.” He demands, arms crossed. Hawks whips his head towards the silver haired hero, stunned by his malicious tone.

“Touya.” You greet, face unreadable.

“Are you here to steal from my fucking stash again?”

“I’m here to steal your mom, actually.” You blink.

And then begins the staring contest between you and Touya, daggers obviously included. To your left, Hawks’ eyes keep darting back and forth between you two, deciding if he should step in.

The silence is palpable.

Before the winged hero can open his mouth to say anything though, Touya fucking cackles.

“Alright, bring it in, you little shit.” He yanks you into a hug so tight that if you weren’t so used to it, you might think he’s intended to kill. “How’s it been?”

“Terrible.” You pat his back and turn to give Hawks a small wave. The dynamic display between you and Touya seems to have profoundly confused the blond as he awkwardly waves back. “I’ll tell you later, Auntie probably wants to see you.”

“Auntie? You two related?” Hawks finally pipes up.

“Hell no.” You and Touya speak at the same time.

“I’m just his mom’s favorite.” You add, dodging a swat in the head from the blue flame user. “Come on, she’s making lunch.”

“What is it?” Touya questions as he enters the front yard.

“Mackerel.”

“Ew.”

* * * * *

“I’ve known Shouto since we were kids so I’m here a lot, and they just kinda adopted me.” You quietly explain to Hawks, to which he replies with an elongated ‘ohhhh ’. You two have been standing off to the side of the dining room, trying to give Rei and Touya space for their reunion. “How do you know Touya?”

“Oh! Uh, we’re roommates.”

It takes all your self control not to visibly lift one eyebrow at his ever so slightly raised pitch. However, the blond seems to have picked up on your pause and quickly adds, “And we work together.”

“There's actually someone who can put up with him. I’m shocked.” You respond in a joking manner, punctuated with a laugh to imply that there’s no malice. 

Despite his brief villain phase and your unnecessarily hostile banter, Touya remains a solid big brother to you. He plays the role of the eldest sibling incredibly well, whether it’s yelling at you for hogging the Xbox, or tossing you and Shouto into the koi pond for pranking him, or getting community service for ganging up on your bully, leaving said bully with a black eye, some fractured ribs and an eternal fear of mentioning your name.

“Yeah right?” Hawks chuckles, then clears his throat. “So, what’s this ‘stash’ he spoke of huh?”

Ah, a diversion from the roommate topic. Well played, Hawks.

“Hard drugs, the hardest of them all.” You whisper, eyes darting all around. Cupping your hand over your mouth, you lean closer to him. “They’re called Takis.”

He lets out a loud chortle. “Of course it’s those. He’s so territorial about them.” Gruffing up his voice, he starts aggressively tapping his foot in an attempt to mimic Touya. “You can only get those from the American import store!”

“Not like he’s ever around to eat them anyway!” You throw your arms up. “I can’t let them just sit there and expire.” You emphasize the word ‘expire’ and look Touya in the eye as the stingy Takis hoarder makes his way over.

“If you fuckers have time to bond over stealing my shit, make yourselves useful and set up the damn table.”

* * * * *

Meals at the Todorokis are never fussy when it’s just family, so judging by the mismatched plates and the leftover oyakodon hastily reheated in its storing container for Mr. I-hate-fish, you venture to guess that Hawks also has a regular presence in this household. 

“The supply chain is bound to break down very soon.” The blond says between mouthfuls of food. “Housing will also go into crisis, so we’re preparing for civil unrest.”

“You should bring Dad home, Ma.” Touya’s voice is quiet. “We can hire a nurse that comes by everyday. Hell, we can even send a nurse from our agency.” He tilts his head towards Hawks who nods enthusiastically. “Don’t want you out there by yourself, it’s going to be a crazy time.”

Rei reaches for her empty bowl and gets up to make tea, saying she needs a minute to think about her son’s suggestion, leaving you three to finish the meal.

You’re feeling antsy all over again at the mention of the world’s current situation. Resting the chopsticks over your bowl, you ask the two heroes sitting across the table.

“Speaking of out there, how are things right now?”

“Oddly quiet.” Hawks is the first to reply. “We’re on quick rotation today to give everyone at least a couple of hours to see their loved ones, but there hasn’t been much going on.”

“Won’t be for long though.” Touya chimes in. “Wait, shouldn’t you be at your agency? The Commission’s taking head counts over there last I heard.”

“Uhhhh– Sho’s reporting for me. I kinda don’t wanna be there right now.” You stare at the plate in front of you. Hmm, fish bones, so very interesting.

Bright blue eyes narrow at you. “Why?”

“Cause my ‘boyfriend’ who runs the agency is now engaged to his sidekick.” You grimace, not really wanting to bring this up in front of Hawks. Despite how friendly he seems to be, you both are mere acquaintances. Still, knowing Touya, he would pry it out of you sooner or later.

“That pomeranian is fucking dead.” Didn’t even take a second for Touya to know exactly who you were talking about. “I’m calling Toga.”

“Woah! Please don’t.” You panic. “It was a nightmare getting the Commission off her back last time. You’re not gonna tempt her with another ‘good slashing’. I just– fuck this is fucked up.” You whisper the last part to yourself. Burying your face in your hands, you sigh. “I just need time, I guess. To get my shit together enough to face him.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” An unexpected voice cuts in. 

Your hands drop from your face as you peer at Hawks. He has his usual smile plastered on his face, though with a hint of somberness.

“Come work for us.” He continues, bits and pieces of his signature cheerfulness creep back in as his chin comes to rest on his palm. “We could always use more heroes that can work the air, and from what I saw yesterday you seem pretty good at it.”

“Wait– are you serious?” You gape.

“I mean, up until you were almost splattered against the Samsung rooftop of course, but yes.” His crimson wings flutter in mischief.

“Not that– and I was perfectly capable of keeping those citizens alive thank you very much. But, um.” You drop your hands to your lap to keep from visibly fidgeting. “I mean–”

“You think on it.” The mischief is gone from his voice. “Just putting my offer on the table.” 

“Our offer.” Touya leans forward. After a beat, a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “We can take both you and Shouto.”

“Huh? Shouto? What does he have to do with this?”

“You’re crazy if you think the brat won’t follow you over like a fucking lost duckling.” 

“Um, he won’t.”

“Wanna bet? Ya got 5000 yens to lose?”

You frown at Touya like he’s lost his mind. Sure, you and Shouto are as attached at the hip as can be, but the agency is where most of his friends are. Friends of five (ten?) long years who have gone to war and back with each other. Although they’re your friends too, your friendship only started after high school. There are inside jokes you still don’t get.

God, and you just lost out on five more years of bonds. Maybe starting over somewhere else doesn’t sound so scary anymore. 

‘You don’t have to do it alone.’

What Shouto said last night flits by like a breeze, calming, yet intangible at the same time. You don’t know if it means he would pick up his life to follow you, or if it’s simply a good luck hug before you two part ways once more, like the day you left for Ketsubutsu. 

The thought of not having to start over by your lonesome though, does sound… kinda nice.

“Oh, hey guys.”

Speaking of the devil .

Shouto walks into the dining room and sets a cardboard box on one of the chairs. A chorus of ‘hi’, ‘hey’ and ‘sup’ greets him back as he starts rummaging through it.

“They hung onto stuff from our lockers so I grabbed a few things. Here’s your phone.” Shouto hands you the device. “There are some spare chargers in your room I’m pretty sure.”

The Dynamight grenade charm dangles from your worn leather phone case, taunting. 

“Thanks.” You mumble. “I should probably call my cousin.”

Catching a glimpse of you removing the charm under the table before getting up to gather the empty bowls and plates, Shouto clears his throat. 

“Yeah. I’ll put our hero costumes in the wash while you do that.”

“So domestic.” You tease on your way out. “I’ll be right back.”

.

You are way out of earshot when Touya finally snickers.

“Are you fucking blushing, Sho?”

* * * * *

You can’t take your eyes off the 99+ badge that popped up on your message app icon once you’ve managed to get your phone to turn on. 

You had fought hard not to open the can of worms it might contain, but fate had other plans when your cousin didn’t pick up. Feeling obligated to text her cause the poor anxious woman would freak out over a missed call with no explanation, you tap onto the app and hold your breath as the chat logs load in. 

Katsuki’s name pops up at the top.

They all say curiosity kills the cat. You will not be a cat today. You will not be a cat today. You will not be a cat today. You–

You are nothing but a cat.

And you greedily open the chat and scroll all the way to the top of the new messages like a damn ravenous feral.

There must be hundreds and hundreds of gray chat bubbles sitting on the left side of the screen, all staring at you, calling you a masochist. You read on.

.

Katsuki:

where the fuck are you

answer the damn phone

if you’re not there when i get back I SWEAR TO GOD

baby?

please fucking answer im freaking the fuck out

a bunch of pilots went missing so i might be stuck here for a while

just hang on for me okay?

please?

.

Katsuki:

i dont know why im texting when your phone’s right next to me

dont know who to talk to

everyone’s grieving

the agency is so empty

why you gotta leave us huh

asshole

why you?

why not me?

.

Katsuki:

knocked the planter over while breaking into your place

sorry

i know you love that one

loved

the bed still smells like you

come home to me

.

Katsuki:

why are you not back yet

been a month already

sick fucking joke you moron

hope you stub your fucking toe

miss your fucking face

miss you

miss you so much angel

.

Katsuki:

happy anniversary baby

got you your favorite umeshu

you remember the shopkeeper?

the one with the wife who runs the bakery next door

his whole family is still here

how fucking lucky is that

anyway

i fucked up

made a scene when your landlord was showing your apartment to some extras

i mightve punched him

IN MY DEFENSE

the prick didnt have a fucking reason to show it to anyone

ive been paying your rent for fucks sake

now he demands i clear everything out within the week

im so sorry baby

.

Katsuki:

saw this and thought of you

[Image Attachment]

you always liked those damn long nosed dogs

shitty hair and them dragged me out for a damn picnic

food sucks

wish you were here

.

Katsuki:

i hate you

i hate you so much for leaving me

i fucking hate that everything reminds me of you

cant even have a fucking meal without thinking about you

how do i even deserve to eat 

to fucking live

to do all these mundane things like going on a fucking picnic

when you cant

fuck– 

.

[New messages from: Katsuki] 

[Message preview: i know you got your phone back and you’re…]

.

You curse, wiping at the tears that have started pooling at the corners of your eyes. Of course he’s seen all of his messages had been marked as read. With a sigh, you scroll all the way down to the bottom of the chat. 

.

Katsuki:

i know you got your phone back and you’re reading this

i still got your stuff 

they’re in storage at the agency

come by tomorrow

i need to talk to you

[sim0nril3y]

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!OC Scenario: (setting 2014) A second date might appear to be too much, but deep down Simon knows that he wants more. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), mentions of alcohol, suggestive conversation, slight mention of smut, canon-typical swearing (I mean, it's Ghost for fuck sake!).

When the idea of a wandered around a lake had been offered you were more than happy to oblige. This time you arrived promptly on time, wearing wellington boots, a thick coat and a warm looking scarf. It was the middle of Winter, at least you knew how to dress appropriately for a walk, Simon thought to himself.

It was an early Sunday morning. Usually at this time Simon would be out for a run, or maybe even down the gym so swapping that out for a woodland walk with a pretty girl wasn’t too hard for him. You seemed happy to follow his lead, it seemed that Simon knew his area better than you did anyway, especially considering your attempt to go off path within the first couple of steps, his strong hand holding your elbow and steering you in the correct direction again.

Part way around you stopped by a shack that sold warm coffees and teas. Simon ignored your pleas to pay and passed over the money. “Lucky girl~” The older woman making the drinks swooned at his chivalrous nature. “The night I met my husband I brought the first round ‘cause he forgot his wallet. It was a load of bollocks if you ask me.” A delicate giggle came from your perfect lips, immediately more personable than Simon could ever be, more engaging asking the older woman questions and showing a true interest.

After receiving your drinks, the walk continued. “You never mentioned what you did for work.” Your gentle voice announced then. His eyes stayed trained on the terrain ahead, watching for any raised tree roots or deep puddles in your path. “I didn’t?” It had been a conscious effort not to mention anything about his work. Simon knew that it was stuck in a difficult place, his job was intimidating but it was concerning not to talk about himself, especially when you had shared so much. “No, you didn’t…” Your voice was measured and reserved, like she was thinking. “What if I try and guess…” Simon’s brows pinched together as he glanced at you.

No. Say no. Keep it separate. It’ll be easier that way. “Please?” “Alright.” Fuck, really? One little plea and he breaks down instantly. Fucking hell. He was in deep here. “Oooh, okay…” You were taking this seriously, he could tell. It actually made him chuckle when you squinted your eyes at him, as if trying to imagine him in different workplaces. “Personal trainer?” You finally decided and a shocked laugh fell from his lips. “A personal trainer? What made you say that?”

“What? What are you talking about? You’re a unit.” You pointed out bluntly. Well, he did go to the gym about as often as a personal trainer. A quiet chuckle slipped from his lips as he shook his head. “I’ll assume that was a compliment.” “Trust me. It is.” Fuck, you so easily flirted with him. It was intoxicating. “Alright, so you’re not a personal trainer… Let me think…” A moment of silence passed. “Rugby player?”

A sharp laugh fell from his throat. “I don’t think I’ve played rugby since I was 14.” Smiling you and took another sip of your coffee. “Football player?” “Oh, yeah, I could’ve played for United but I was too good it was intimidating to everyone else.” He joked, his voice slick with sarcasm. He was actually joking with you. It was playful and you laughed with him. God, this was easy. You made this easy for him. “Kid, it’s nothing to do with sport.”

“Hmm…” A beat of silence fell from between them, even as he refused to look in your direction Simon could feel your eyes lingering on him. “Army?” He tensed. Maybe it was that just obvious. Maybe the stench of war seeped from his pores. Maybe his eyes spoke the trauma and torture he’d seen. “Army.” You confirmed softly when he didn’t decline anything. Simon couldn’t bring himself to say a single word. “We don’t have to talk about it…” His cold heart warmed just a touch then. God, he was thankful to you for not pushing him, you didn’t want to ask any of the stupid questions that people usually pushed at him.

They walked in silence for a while after that. Simon prayed you wouldn’t think any different of him. God, he sounded pathetic. It wasn’t like this could ever work out anyway. Eventually you would get bored and move on. That dark inner monologue shut down the moment he felt your cold fingers wrapping around his pinky. Three of them wrapped around the thick digit. You had taken the opportunity of ceasing the hand hanging by his side. Sneaky, but… innocent. Part of him didn’t like touch but you touch… Yeah, he liked that.

Their walked continued and you chatted away seamlessly about her friends, only just touching on the subject of family, but mostly you filled him in on the artwork you had been working on this week. A cynical side of Simon kept thinking all that rubbish was a waste of time, but a softer side reminded him that you weren’t doing any harm following a dream.

A sudden set of dogs came rushing in their direction, you squealed in surprise kneeling down to pet them as they rushed forward, but Simon quickly yanked you back to your feet, placed a step behind him protectively. “They’re safe!” An owner a good few feet away yelled along with a hearty laugh. Not hesitating you stepped around him and greeted both the dogs happily, cooing over them and causing a fuss. Simon stood aside, holding both drinks and looking tense.

The owner whistled curtly causing them both to shoot off in their direction. A quiet giggle came from you whilst rising up, brushing off your dirty knees and accepting the coffee back from Simon. “You don’t like dogs?” “I don’t like dogs I don’t know.” He corrected simply. “I don’t know. They seemed friendly enough.” Stated with a tiny shrug.

“They seem friendly until they are sinking their teeth into your face because you’re at head height for them…” Simon stated bluntly. Fuck, that was too much. He really shouldn’t have said that. Say something. Save it. “And I happen to like your face without bite marks.” A surprisingly bright smile pressed across your face before quirking your brows and asking softly. “Oh, so you like my face?”

“Walk, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder.” He commanded, pressing a hand to your lower back briskly. “Is that a promise…” “Go.”

Their walk came to an end as your arrived back at the carpark. Bloody hell, they had been walking for over two hours. Most of the time you had been chatting, but there had been some really comfortable silence between them. Fuck, this was getting too deep. Two dates in and Simon wanted more, but… but it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t allow you to get closer. He needed this to be the end.

As they approached your car Simon observed it. It was a beat up little banger with a dent in every panel. Pulling your keys from your bag and slowly turned to face him. “Thanks for a nice time…” Your voice soft and delicate, taking a dangerous step in his direction and tilting your head up to turn your intoxicating gaze on him. Bloody fucking hell. How the fuck was he supposed to remain composed? How was he supposed to resist her?

They grew closer. Simon could feel his heart raising in his chest. “Find a boy your own age, for Christ sake.” His whispered just inches from your mouth. He was fighting every fibre in his being not to plead you her to move on from him. “I don’t want them.” Your voice was breathless and bordering on frustrated. “Simon, if you don’t want me just tell me and I’ll go…” That was a stupid idea, he thought.

Like a cornered animal Simon bit back. “Fuckin’ hell. ‘Course I want you.” That was the most honest and blunt that he had been with you in the short time he’d know you. “You have no idea how much that I want you, but… it isn’t as easy as that. I’m not… I can’t give you what you want. Not right away.” Touch and sex and affection. It was a very tricky subject for Simon. It was something he rarely navigated with someone outside of a rare drunk one-night stand. Those felt less messy. Barely even learned their names half the time. “I can wait.” Again, your words interrupted his fuzzy mind and he focused on your face again.

His eyes lingered on you, willing you to continue without wanting to say the words aloud. “Whatever you need. At your pace.” It wasn’t difficult for to sense something different about him. Most men that took you out wanted to bring you back to their flats that night, but Simon had barely wanted to kissed you. It was like you could sense some type of barrier, or a trauma, or just something he simply wasn’t telling you. There was no way that you would judge and you certainly wouldn’t press until he was ready. “You’re not going to scare me off.”

“Fuck…” Muttering under his breath as he leaned in to press his forehead against your own. “I’m just not gonna be able to shake you off, am I?” “Certainly not easily.” Your voice was delicate, bordering on amused before feeling your lips press innocently against his cheek. “When are you free next week?” This time Simon asked the question, ignoring all those voices of doubt and destruction in his mind and following the one that encouraged some type of happiness.

Masterlist | Ask

[gh0st-t0wn3]

Some Lmk ss edits + Headcanons (Traffic light trio)

- He/They

- Gay

- Only wears knock off brands (doesn't know they aren't real)

- Autumn is his favorite season, purely because he likes to stomp the crunchy leaves

- Adhd

- Has dimples

- Pigsy once got him rainbow shoes for pride month before he was even out but MK didn't realize they were pride shoes because the rainbow was on the sole

- Tried to cook breakfast for Pigsy and Tang on Father's day once, somehow lit the curtains on fire

- Wants Tattoos but keeps backing down because he doesn't like needles (will probably get one in the future though)

- Has a sketchbook fully dedicated to Redson, would literally die if someone ever found it

- Smells like oranges

- Only a few inches taller than Redson, always teases him for it

- Almost killed Sun Wukong once because he was disguised as a spider

- The Monkey's on flower fruit mountain always climb on him when he's around, he doesn't try to stop them

- Had to remove the snooze option on his alarm clock because he wouldn't stop hitting it

- Chicken scratch handwriting, no one else can read it for the life of them

- Learned Spanish in high school, don't ask why it just feels right

- Covered in scars, but 83% of them are from being a dumb kid instead of battles

- Once described Redson's voice as "really warm, like a hug!" And almost got burnt for it

- Love language is physical touch

- Has those really pretty brown eyes, like the ones that look like honey when the light hits them at that one perfect angle

- Has no fashion sense whatsoever, Mei chose out most of the clothes he owns

- Phone is shattered beyond repair but he refuses to acknowledge that he needs to get a new one

- Obsessively takes personality/buzzfeed tests in the dead of night, once pulled an all nighter just taking "which drink are you?", "what kind of seafood are you?" "What type of candy are you?" Type of buzz feed quizzes, and physically couldn't do deliveries because he was so exhausted the next morning

- Has a bunch of plants but is terrible at taking care of them

- Has a chipped tooth (actually Canon, it's on his lego figurine, I'm still sad they didn't add it to the show :( )

- Once walked in on Tang and Pigsy kissing as a kid and was promptly traumatized

- Has no skin or hair care routine, uses a 3 in 1 Shampoo/conditioner/bodywash

- Has really nice curly/wavy hair but straightens it and uses an unholy amount of hair gel

- Has a wattpad account

- Sleeps in literally the most horrific positions you have ever seen, yet somehow never get cramps or neck/back pains

- Once drank dishwasher soap as a kid because he thought it was juice

- Gets sunburnt incredibly easy (if you've seen the s4 special ykwim)

- Mk once accidently threw a plastic bottle in the trash instead of the recycling bin and got lectured for an hour by Pigsy (Pigsy is a huge environmentalist)

- His bedroom is messy as all hell but he somehow knows where everything is (Pigsy and Tang have tried cleaning it themselves but it was back to being a mess just a few short hours later so they gave up)

- He/Him (FtM)

- Gay

- Shortest one in the trio (just barely though). I like to think that the removal of the samadhi fire stunted his growth and demonic development, which is also why he takes so little after his father in appearance/height. He always wears platforms though, so he looks taller than he is

- He was so quiet and sneaky as a child that his mom had to put a bell on him

- Used to wear large combat boots until someone made a "step on me" joke. He doesn't wear them in public anymore

- Smells like smoke and cinnamon, Mei once described it as a 'campfire' smell

- Has really heavy blackout curtains in his bedroom

- Hair turns black when wet or when he's burnt out

- Always has a soft glow to his body because of his fire, mouth glows faintly, hair glows faintly, the more emotional he is the stronger the glow (MK and Mei are incredibly jealous)

- Tension headaches because we all know that mf has his hair tied up in the tightest goddamn ponytail ever

- Has the samadhi fire back (I'm delusional just let me have this)

- Has a habit of stealing his friends and families clothes to wear, first started when he was really little and would constantly steal whatever clothes of DBK's he could find around the house to help him feel like his dad was still there, and the habit just stuck with him

- Doctor handwriting

- Autistic

- Identifies as male but still likes to wear skirts and dresses sometimes (he just like me fr). Likes floor length skirts the best

- Actually really good at art, mostly draws blueprints for his inventions, but can draw people and landscapes pretty decently too

- Has a childhood Bull plushie that he still sleeps with, hides it under the bed or in the closet whenever MK and Mei come over

- has a scar on his back resembling the rings of samadhi from the removal ritual, Mei once confused it for a tattoo

- Mei once called him "Zesty" and he still doesn't know what it means, she refuses to tell him

- Was homeschooled by PIF

- Has a beauty mark like his mom's

- Has the most angelic, majestic, heartlifting laugh ever, but never actually laughs (unless it's his "evil" laugh, trust me guys)

- Goes to bed at 3am, wakes up at 11am type of person

- Needs glasses because the Samadhi fire fucked up his eyes (in Journey to the West, the samadhi fire is described as a flame that, when activated, "shoots out of every hole in his face" including, of course, his eyes)

- Remember when I said he was a quiet child? Yeah, he can't do that anymore, he literally has no idea how to be quiet now that he's older, the best he can do is whisper shout

- Hopeless romantic, but convinced that any and all feelings are unrequited

- Mei and Mk found his baby pictures once, he will never recover

- Long ass skin and hair care routine, will spend at least two or more hours on it every morning, but it's worth it, his hair and skin are always so soft

- Touch starved as fuck

- Love language is gift giving and positive affirmation (WILL cry if someone compliments him, doesn't matter who it is or what the context is, he once almost burst into tears when Sandy called him a good kid and gave him a pat on the back)

- Once he's focused on something he will stay focused for at least the next ten hours

- Loves strawberry flavored things but hates actual strawberries

- Listens to really underground music and has the biggest superiority complex because of it

- Has the biggest fucking bedroom you have ever seen, with one of those really large and extravagant, super comfortable canopy beds, wakes up like a Disney princess

- Usually self-preserving but will experiment on himself without hesitation if he thinks it'll help him with a breakthrough (has almost died on several occasions)

- She/Her

- Lesbian

- Has tons of piercings: nose, ears, bellybutton, etc (her parents don't know about the bellybutton piercing and she doesn't plan on letting them know anytime soon)

- "Hey, Red boy, cool tattoo!" "... thats a scar." (She still hasn't lived it down)

- Smells like freshly cut grass

- Tallest one in the group, idc what anyone says, I just have a feeling okay?

- Adores glitter makeup but can't stand the feeling of it on her skin

- Love language is quality time

- Has a love/hate relationship with her dragon features, she thinks they look cool and she's proud of her heritage, but if her scales get too dry, which happens very easily, they get really uncomfortable and itchy as all hell

- Had a phase in high school where she'd dye her hair everything except green

- Probably also has Adhd

- Avid tennis player

- Hates the feeling of jeans, but loves denim jackets (has a whole collection, plus one that she and MK have been patching together for years)

- Always smudges her mascara somehow, MK once thought she was crying

- Super rough and rowdy as a kid, like I'm talking pushing kids off swings and down the slide rowdy, tackling people in the sandbox or on the school field, girl was a menace to society

- Snorts when she laughs

- MK tried to scare her once as a joke and her first instinct was to deck him (apologized profusely... before laughing at him)

- Most reckless driver on the planet, it's a wonder how she hasn't gotten her license taken away yet

- Doesn't really consider herself close with her family, she loves them but MK, Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy are her FAMILY, y'know? Like Rosa in b99

- Was the first person to know MK has a crush on Redson, she found out when she walked in on him drawing them together, and she will never let him forget it

- Has a normal skin and hair care routine, and constantly tells Redson that he's insane for needing 2+ hours to complete his

- Is the only one with readable handwriting

- Once stayed up for an entire week to play a new video game that came out

- Will smack her head with a brush if her hair doesn't cooperate

- Bites people (gently, its how she shows affection. Unless she doesn't like you then she'll just naw on your arm until she draws blood)

- Lives on energy drinks, her favorite is Monster Pipeline punch

- Has really soft and really thick hair

- Used to chew on her hair in middle school

- Biggest sweet tooth ever, Redson is disgusted by her eating habits

- Goes on early morning jogs every day except weekends

- Sabrina Carpenter fan

- Refuses to watch any movies or shows based on video games she likes because they'll "never have the same charm or energy as the game", but will buy the video games that a show/movie is based on if she watches them before playing

- Will eat random plants all the time. Walking through the park? She'll lean down and pick a flower to chomp on

- The type of girl to carry around a goddamn gallon water bottle everywhere

- Has a thousand fairy lights in her room, it's a fire hazard

[jensensfanfic]

NOT JUST THE FLU

pairing: justin foley x gn!reader (romantic) + clay jensen x twin!reader (familial/platonic ofc)

warnings: cursing, vomiting, justin in recovery - mentions of specific drugs, hints of justin's trauma from being on the streets, coughing, lmk if i should add anything else! (i am not an expert on addiction/recovery + symptoms so please don't come @ me)

a/n: here's another fic from my wattpad days. in the original version of this fic, i wrote the reader to be extremely pissed off and annoyed, but in this version they're a lot more understanding and soft

13 REASONS WHY MASTERLIST

—☆—

"Anyone home!? Hello?"

As you close the front door, you kick off your boots, shoving them under the radiator to dry. With dripping hair and soaked clothes, you wander into the kitchen, leaving a trail of wet patches on the carpet in your path. You blow our a long, tired breath and head to the fridge for a bottle of water.

You call out again. "Hello!? Mum? Dad? Clay?" You pause for a few seconds, gulping down half of your drink." No? Just me, then. Sweet."

Figuring that you are home alone, you climb the stairs to the bathroom. You take the small pile of fresh pajamas you'd left before school and change into them. As you're drying your dry, you hear some clattering coming from Clay's room, immediately followed by a curse and then what sounds like a window being opened.

"Clay? You're here?" You knock on your brother's bedroom door. "Why didn't you answer me before?"

When you don't get a response, but continue to hear a string of curse words, you turn the handle and go in anyway. Your eyes widen when you see your friend, Tony. Well, just the back of him at least, as he sits on the window and then jumps down.

"The hell..." You charge forward, watching as he picks himself up from where he'd landed. "Tony, what the fuck?!"

Tony stands, brushes dirt from his jeans, and then looks back up. "Clay said you were studying with Jess."

You're at a loss for words as you frown.

"He said you'd be out late."

"What? I– we got done early. But that doesn't answer my question. What the fuck? Why were you in Clay's room alone?"

"Uh– not alone..." You turn around at his words and your eyes widen further upon seeing Justin Foley laying on your brother's couch, snoring.

How had you completely missed him lying there?

"Tony! Seriously, what the hell is going on?"

"Clay will explain. I have to go." With that, Tony gets into his car and drives away promptly, leaving you confused.

You shake your head in disbelief, then slide the window shut and turn to Justin. You walk over and give him a small shove.

"Justin? Hey..."

Justin wakes instantly, looking around the room, probably for Clay, but when he only sees you, he sits up and looks worried. "Um..."

"Can you please explain to me why the fuck you are in my house, drooling all ovwe my brother's couch?"

Justin opens him mouth to speak, but right at that moment, Clay arrives in the doorway to his room. "Shit! Crap. Uh– I can explain all of this."

"What on earth, Clay? Did you, like... smuggle him in here. Do mom and dad know?"

"They don't, and... kind of. I mean, yes. Yes, I did."

"And Tony was here because?"

"Tony was watching him while I was out."

Justin coughs. "Ugh, I told you, I don't need a babysitter."

You and Clay respond simultaneously. "Shut up."

You shake your head, confused. "Why would Tony need to babysit him?"

Clay looks down at Justin, who looks up at you before opening his mouth to speak. "I– uh– it's–"

"He's sick." Clay interrupts him. "He has the flu. Yeah. I brought him back to help Jessica with the trial and everything... but he's sick, so he's been staying here."

"Why does he need to be here just because he's sick?" You drop your shoulders, mouth hanging open slightly. You sit down on Clay's bed. "How long has he been here?"

Clay gulps before answering. "A few days."

"For real? I mean, what the hell, Clay? You've had Justin Foley in your room for a few days, and you didn't tell me? Are you completely crazy, or am I a total dumbass for not even noticing?"

Clay sighs. "Look, I'm sorry. But we can't risk him being seen."

You rest your head on your hand. "This is crazy."

"I know, okay? Just please... don't tell mom and dad."

Clay gives you his classic, wide-eyed, pleading face. The one he makes when he wants a favour from you, or if he's done something wrong and needs you to cover for him. He thinks it works, but, honestly, it never has.

However, thinking about it, you decide you would rather not face your parents after they find out this... secret. You can imagine their faces and the questions and the yelling they would do, directed at you and Clay. Since now, you have been involved.

"Yeah. Okay, fine." You chuckle. "Can you imagine what they'd say?"

Clay smiles and nods, and then sits down on the end of his bed next to you. "I'm really sorry that I didn't tell you right away."

"Forget it. Does he have medication?"

Justin shakes a small bottle of pills and points to the bottles of meds and water on the table.

"Great."

You feel before you see Clay tense a little, and you look st him with a quirked brow. "What now?"

"You are going to absolutely hate me for this, and I won't blame you if you do, but Tony, um... he can't skip school again tomorrow. Do you think you could– well, you know."

"You want me to watch him? You're serious?"

"Please. Just this once. I'll make sure you don't have to again. I'll figure something else out."

You huff. "Fine. I have first two periods free, so only until then."

"Thank you." Clay nudges your shoulder and smiles. "You're the best twin a brother could ask for."

"I know." You smile back at your brother, and then both of your eyes widen at each other when you hear Justin hiccup and then cough.

"Oh, God!" You try to grab the waste bin quickly, but Justin has vomited all the carpet before you can reach him.

—☆—

You sigh loudly when your phone rings again. "Jesus Christ!"

Justin tries to look over your shoulder. "What is it?"

"Clay... again."

You type a message back to your brother and then slide your phone onto the desk without looking. "He's demanding an update. Like, I'm sorry I forgot, I was sort of in the middle of cleaning up snotty tissues and your favourite vomit-covered shoes, bro."

Justin laughs. "Yeah, oops on that one, he's gonna be pissed."

"Most definitely."

"You have to admit, taking care of me isn't that bad?" Justin smirks.

"What makes you think that? It's gross."

"C'mon, Jensen." Justin smirks, his voice cocky as he explaisn. "Jeff told me."

"Told you what?" You ask, hoping Jeff Atkins really didn't let slip your secret."

"He told me what you said. That you thought I was 'hot', and I quote, 'as fuck'."

Ugh, Jeff.

You figure there isn't much point in denying it. You did find Justin attractive, and you weren't ashamed to think that. However, you do spin a tiny fib and pretend like your little crush on Justin is old news.

"Well... that was after that one night when you were fighting with Zach outside Hannah's party. You were having the time of your life, and so was I while checking you out."

"Oh, really?" Justin beams, and the smile looks strange against his sickly, exhausted looking face.

"How can you be this cocky and... flirty while simultaneously looking like you currently do."

Justin's mouth falls open. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... you really, really look the part of a sick person right now."

"Thanks?" He says, then makes you jump when he blurts out, "Shit, I'm fucking freezing!"

"I gave you three blankets!"

Justin shrugs. "I'm still cold."

"It's probably your fever." You sigh. "Be right back."

You quickly go to your own room and take the duvet from your bed.

"Here." Back in Clay's room, you throw the duvet over Justin, who takes it gratefully and pulls it around himself.

He frowns, surprised by the kind gesture, given that most of your shared time together, you'd been grumpy and impatient to leave.

"Thank you. But won't you need this yourself?"

"You want me to take it back?"

"No." He holds up his hand in defence. "I'm good, I'm good."

It's silent for a little while, so when Justin coughs again, it makes you look over at him. For the first time since you'd discovered him in your home last night, you actually take in his face properly.

You notice his eyes first. They're bloodshot, tired-looking, with little brusie-like circles underneath. His face isn't just pale; it's almost grey, and upon squinting at his hands for a few moments, you realise they are shaking.

Looking down at his medication, you see that not all of them are even meant to be taken for a 'flu'.

You stand up, frowning, and Justin follows your movements as you spot a fold tucked under Clay's desk, and lean down to pick it up. Before you can read it, Justin coughs, and you're certain it's fake; done in order to distract you.

"What am I going to find in here, Justin?" You plop back down onto the bed with the folder, and place it on your lap. "What isn't Clay telling me?"

Justin pulls the blankets tighter around himself. "Nothing, I–"

"You look awful. Like, worse than the flu awful. You're all lying to me, aren't you? You, Clay, and Tony." You roll your eyes when Justin doesn't respond. "Look, just tell me. Please. I promise you, whatever it is, I'll still keep my mouth shut. I just want to know what I'm really dealing with here."

You're about to push further when your phone rings again. You groan loudly. Answering it, you ignore Clay's questions and mutter, "Call me back in 20."

You hang up and throw your phone to the side. "So?"

Justin closes his eyes. "Just open that dumbass folder Clay made."

You do as he says, eyes widening when you read the first line on the first page inside. You read it aloud, "'Detoxing From Heroin.' What and what not– Justin, what–" You blow out a breath, taking a minute to let your anger fade, the feeling being replaced by concern and confusion. "What happened to you? After you left..."

Something in Justin's eyes shift. He suddenly seems scared, shy, maybe even a little ashamed. "I–" His voice cracks. "When I left–"

"Don't answer that." You quickly move to kneel beside him, leaning up on the couch and laying a hand over one of his. "Okay? You don't have to."

"Hm. Thanks." He relaxes and turns his hand, so that he can interlace his fingers with yours. When you don't pull away, and instead, squeeze his hand back, he smirks.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask, amazed by how quickly he seems to be able to change his entire mood.

"Because I knew it."

"Ugh. What?"

"You still like me, don't you?"

"Shut up, Foley." You pick up the folder again, opening it up to the page on medication. "Okay, what did you take before I got here?"

Justin doesn't answer right away, he just watches you flipping through the folder and mutters to himself. "Yeah, you still like me."

—☆—

Later that day, when Tony arrives to switch with you, Clay comes home too. You give them both an ear-bashing before leaving the house and heading back to school.

—☆—

A few days pass, and when you're walking to the shower one night, you hear Tony, ranting to Justin about how he needs to be somewhere else. You don't quite hear the what's and where's, or who's, but before you can even think about it, you push open the door.

"Go, Tony. If you need to. I've got it tonight."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm free, so go ahead."

"Okay." He pats you on the shoulder as he leaves the room. "Thank you."

You go and sit next to Justin on the floor, where's he got his knees tucked up against his chest, and his arms wrapped around them, shivering. "You're back. Thought you told Clay that you weren't gonna help after the other night."

"Yeah, well, I lied, I guess."

He smiles sweetly, and then you sigh to yourself for showing how much you really care for Justin, when you squeeze his knee. He looks up, confused, and then you turn your hand, palm up and nod.

Justin takes your hand once again, and then Justin lays his head on your shoulder. You lay your own against his.

"This is nice." He whispers.

"Yeah... until you throw up again."

Justin snort-laughs; and what you don't see is that at that moment, Clay arrives home. He looks in on you both, surprise making him leave you alone as he walks back downstairs, mumbling to himself.

Taglist: @mockerycrow @wqxianwriting

[callsignmarz]

‼️MDNI‼️ - Keegan P. Russ x Y/N | Fem

“Claim Me.”

"Just grow a pair and go talk to him." Keegan insisted, slamming the door to a humvee, clearly checked out from the conversation.

"That's not how nature works, Keegan." You riposted, turning your attention back to Logan, who was currently across the motor pool, chatting to a few other soldiers.

It was no secret that you had a little crush on Logan Walker.

Whenever he was in the area, you felt like a teenager again with her first school crush. Just the sight of him made your cheeks flush a light shade of pink and your knees ready to buckle. And If Keegan had to sit and listen to how fine of a man Logan was one more time, he swore to himself that he will end it all, right then and there.

"Besides, I'd rather just...you know, let things...happen..? Yeah. Let's just go with that."

Keegan raises an eyebrow, shaking his head, unconvinced by your sad attempted claim.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Keegan makes his way over to the mobile toolbox that you've been leaning on for the past half hour — instead of helping him like he asked you in the first place.

Sensing you needed a little help in the love department, out of the kindness of his cold grinch heart, he gives you some words of advice.

"Standing on the sidelines isn't going to get you far, y/n. A man likes it when a woman takes charge. It's hot as fuck, actually." Keegan galled, giving you a friendly wink. He obnoxiously clicks a pen that he had tucked behind his ear and retrieves the clipboard next to your elbow, scribbling down the required maintenance notes.

He had a point though.

But you would never admit that, especially with how vulgar he put it.

So, you just roll your eyes in protest. "Is that so? Then tell me this. Since when did you become such a 'Love Guru?' Last time I checked, you still had trouble finding yourself a girlfriend." You implored the 'notorious' ladies man.

He hands you the clipboard and you promptly grab ahold of it. You watch him lift up the hood of the truck with one arm as if it weighed nothing.

Why did anything he did always had to be so..?

"That's where you're wrong, Sweetheart. I'm not looking for a girlfriend. Just looking for a good time." He chuckles dryly.

"You're vile." Your face contorts in disgust, but he just shrugs off your jab.

"I've been called worst, Sweetheart."

The sound of a boot scuffling against the gravel, pulls your attention away for a moment and your heart flutters when you realize Logan was standing a few feet beside you.

Okay. Act normal, Y/N...what the fuck is normal!?

"What's up, kid?" Keegan greets cooly, snapping you out of your head.

Tearing himself away from the vehicle, Keegan and Logan clasps their hands together, briefly pulling each other in, bumping shoulders before releasing one another.

"Let me guess, causing trouble?" Keegan quipped as he folded his arms across his chest.

Logan gives a friendly smile, his voice came out a smooth baritone, "Always." He flicks his gaze to you, with eyes now wide and mouth agape with incredulity.

"Who's your friend, Russ?" Logan asks as he gives you a once-over look, intrigued and wondering why he hasn't seen you before.

"This is y/n. She more of a thorn in my ass than a friend." Keegan half-jokingly introduces while giving you a look that says 'Now's your chance.'

Clearing your throat of all the cobwebs that formed within the few minutes, you extend your right hand as you give him a quick run down, "Sergeant Y/N L/N, PCS'd from Fort Wainwright about a month or two ago." Logan listens intently, taking ahold your hand with a firm grip and a surge electricity to shoots through your body.

"Pleasure to meet you, Sarge. Alaska must've been one hell of an experience." He mused with his dark caramel eyes locked in on yours. Slowly, Logan lets go of your hand, but purposely allows his touch to linger.

"I'm surprised you didn't go AWOL." He chorkles.

Slightly shrugging your shoulder and batting your lashes, you pick up on his subtle cues.

"There were days where I was tempted to, but I'm pretty good at being on the straight and narrow." You say coy-like with a smile that matched your tone.

"Good, good. But, hey! I actually have to get going, but uh...You should stop by later tonight and we can finish up this conversation. What do you say?" Logan asks with a quizzical smile, his teeth were pearly white and straight, just the way you like them.

Your mouth gaps open slightly, surprised by how fast everything was moving. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren't in a dream but the look from Keegan was an obvious indication this was no dream. Far from, actually.

"Uh, y-yeah. I don't mind." You finally answered.

"Cool...See you then, y/n."

With that, Logan walks off with your eyes following him until he's no longer in sight. You then whip around, almost tripping over your own feet, turning to Keegan and exploding with screeches of excitement.

"Did that actually happen!?" You squeal, rushing over to vigorously shake Keegan's shoulder.

Swatting your hands away, Keegan keeps his eyes forward as he tick in his jaw serves as a seedling of jealously that grew and bloomed a vibrant sprig of green.

"Yes. Now can I get back to work?" He sneers in frustration, retreating his focus back to the engine of the truck.

⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆

As painful as it was to your ego, you take Keegan's advice and with newfound determination eddied in your irises, you come up with an idea.

A man likes when a girl takes charge.

Keegan's voice resounds in your head. The heedful reminder causes your eyes to roll into the back of the your skull. Then your attention shifts back to your reflection. Surveying your outfit one last time as you twist and pose your body in the mirror making sure you were up to par.

Adjusting your black crop top so it flattered your boobs and the ripped up mom-jeans you wore were loose but they hugged you curves just enough to accentuate the roundness of your ass.

And underneath...a matching set of magenta laced lingerie.

There was no way you were not getting laid.

It was a quarter until midnight. The plan was you were going to sneak into Logan's room undetected and surprise him in his bed.

As crazy as it sounds — it was foolproof.

Like, what man wouldn't dream of a woman, as feral as you were, crawling into their bed in the middle of the night?

Right?

After applying the last layer of your clear lemon flavored lipgloss, you roll your plumped lips together followed by a loud suckered pop and you set out on your mission, making a swift exit out the door.

Approaching his quarters, you had to move quickly and quietly. You discreetly reach into your bra and redeemed a simple black bobby-pin.

Good ole reliable.

Throughout the years you've served in the military, you were taught a lot of different things. Tactical insertion being one of them. You knew how to breach any area. From battering rams to hacking security systems but, none that required something so mundane as a hair accessory.

While you expertly pick the lock, you kept your head on a swivel, making sure no one spots you committing this heinous act.

Once you hear the audible click, the corners of your mouth lifted into a confident smile.

Getting up to your feet, you casually make entry.

First thing you noticed was the overpowering smell of cedar wood. Coughing up a lung, you came to the conclusion that the air quality in here was 99.9 percent cologne and that last .1 being oxygen.

Getting past that, it was also rather dark.

Carefully waving your hand around, you try your best not to crash into anything. Eventually, you find yourself bumping into his bedpost, startling Logan out of his sleep and the same familiar baritone voice calls out in surprise, "What the fu—Y/n?"

"Wait! Shh...Just listen, please!" You say right away, hoping it'll calm him down.

"I know this is a bit crazy but just...listen. Okay? I've had a crush on you for a while now and I don't want to blend in with the other girls. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is," You swallow hard, your tone drops to barely a whisper, rolling your lips together as you crawled your way into his bed.

"Just let it happen."

In the dark, your lips find his, silencing any doubt or apprehension from leaving his mouth. A bolt of electricity shoots throughout your body, awakening the longing desire within you.

Not only was he surprised by your assertiveness but it came as a shock to you as well. Being an introvert, you wouldn't have guessed in a million years that you would've be the one to make the first move — all thanks to Keegan.

Logan's lips end up prying your lips apart, deepening the kiss with his tongue, ravishingly exploring your mouth and eliciting soft moans to muffle out as your mouth moves in sync with his.

His rough hands snake their way to your waist before hauling you over onto of him.

Your breath hitches when he breaks away from the kiss and his nose creeps up alongside your throat. Once he finds the most sensitive spot, his mouth latches onto your skin, nipping and sucking until little plum colored splotches decorate your neck.

The two of you wasted no time tearing the clothes off each other. The lingerie you wore for show, unfortunately went unnoticed as it was discarded just like the rest of your wardrobe.

You felt a firm grip on your left breast, before you were greeted by the warmth of his mouth. Not only did Logan have a pretty smile, but he knew what to do with it as his tongue swirled and his teeth gently gnawed on your erect nipple.

A symphony of orchestral moans filled the room.

The sexual connection and burning passion between you two was undeniable.

It was as if this moment was supposed to happen.

As if the two of you were meant to come together and become one.

A dream verging to come true.

Digging your nails into his back, you align him up against you seeping cunt, slowly slipping his swollen cock inside. A small whine of pleasure leaves your lips as you allow your slick walls to accommodate and adjust to his size.

"Ride me, beautiful." He rasped, his tone dripping with ascendancy and urgency.

Like flipping a switch, your back arches, rolling your hips and taking your time descending down only to spring back up when you couldn't fit any more of him.

His size was impeccable.

Your ex wasn't even close to the size and length that Logan held and from the one night stands you've had in the past, they could barely last two whole minutes.

You were in for one hell of a joy ride.

Logan's hand creeps its way from your navel, up and between your breasts to wrap around your throat accordingly.

Taking back control, he bucks his hips, crashing them underneath your thighs, barbarously driving himself deeper into your tight pussy. With your hands on his chest, you prop yourself to hover your ass over him as he kept his unwavering assault.

"Yes, yes, yes! God fuckin—Please don't stop." You whine breathlessly.

"Does the princess want to cum all over my cock?Mmm...such a needy little whore, you are..." He growls, his tone edging you closer to unraveling.

Your body felt as though God sent an angel down just to solemnly fulfill your sinful needs, relieving you of your last unholy act, right before your soul ascends to the heaven's gates.

Delirium intoxicates and overwhelms your senses, clenching your silky walls around his otherworldly cock, urging him to spill his load inside.

"Keep it coming and drown my cock. Fuck...I'm about to cum...Say my name, baby." He grits through his teeth, his thrust becoming more erratic by the second.

As your moans grow louder, your body quivers, riding the wave of your own insatiable orgasm.

"Oh God, Yes! Logan!" You screamed his name.

Your lips collided with his own as he lets out a deep groan. The heat of his load erupts and pulsated deep inside of you, filling you up to the brim. You slide off of him, allowing the contents to pour out of you. The two of you pant and gasp for air, coming down from the euphoric high of your releases while your bodies entangled together.

If you had to be honest, he was more than good, probably the best sex you've ever had.

Silence fills the void with the lingering scent of sex in the air.

Without saying a word, Logan sits up, detangling from your arms and walks out of the room then returns with a towel in hand.

Your eyes strain trying to make out his features as an unsettling tension builds between you two.

"Lo—" You say faintly, making an effort to comfort him.

However he sharply cuts you off, "Lemme stop you right there." His tone dripping with grimness.

Your face twists, utterly confused, watching his dark silhouette walk over to a drawer, pulling out a pair of sweats to slip in.

"I was bound to break it to you one way or another." He says sardonically, scuffling his way across the room, flicking on the light and blurring your vision temporarily until it steadily returns to adjust to your surroundings.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sweetheart. But unfortunately I'm not your knight and shining armor." He says with a disdained sniff.

Your mouth flops open, struggling to form any sentence, but ultimately one phrase rolls off your tongue.

"What the fuck..."

The .1 percent of oxygen left in the air was sucked out the room completely, leaving you to suffocate on the distressed revelation.

The love story you'd hope for came crashing down hard. Once again, he was right about one thing...

He was no Prince Charming.

He was Keegan motherfucking Russ..

[literaryavenger]

Broken - part 4

Summary: You get woken up, still in Bucky's bed, by a very unpleasant guest.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language. Innocent and broken Bucky. Tony being an insensitive asshole. Reader still being dramatic, lol. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.4K

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: I finally finished this chapter! I have some ideas for like one more chapter but after that I do not know where to go with this. excellent. Yes, it will take a while for me to keep going. Sorry. It's also getting harder to choose a Bucky photo to put here, lol.

Masterlist

You wake up to the sound of someone near you yelling. Again.

Slowly, You open your eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the morning light.

After you’re no longer blind, you look for the source of the noise that woke you and see a very angry looking Tony yelling at Steve.

Something about 'how dare he go near her' and 'if she gets hurt I'll kill you both', those are the only things you're able to understand between the yelling and your still half-asleep mind.

It takes you a second more to realize that you’re not in your bedroom, so you look next to you and see Bucky already awake, watching the scene that's unfolding before you without making a sound.

The fear and hurt on his face are like a bucket of cold water that wakes you up completely.

You turn back to the other gentlemen and, finally, you’re able to comprehend what's happening. 

Apparently Tony and Steve went looking for you in your room to talk about yesterday and, not having found you there, asked Jarvis where you were.

The AI promptly snitched on you, and Tony came barging in to 'save' you from Bucky, Steve hot on his trail.

Steve obviously wouldn't let Tony hurt him, so, Tony being Tony, is being a dramatic bitch acting as if he walked in on Bucky straight up choking you and not the a good way and not just two grown ass adults peacefully sleeping.

So Tony started yelling about wanting to do something drastic about the situation and waking up both you and Bucky in the process.

Because fuck sleep, right?

You’re not really sure how long the current events have been going on for, or how long you just sit and watch after waking up, trying to get a handle on reality.

All you know is that the moment the words 'he's gonna kill her and it's gonna be your fault too' come out of Tony's mouth, you've had about enough of both of them.

You take both of your shoes, which were in front of the bed where you left them the night before, and throw them at the screaming idiots with as much strength as you could master which, when you train everyday with a trained assassin that pushes your limits further and further, is a lot of strength.

You hit Steve in the back of his head and Tony deadass in the face. Thank god for Clint's lessons. And for the fact that you were wearing combat boots yesterday.

The second Tony gets hit, he turns to the bed with a murderous look on his face, probably thinking it was Bucky, but when he sees you wide awake and with a satisfied smile on your face he quickly pieces things together and calms down a bit.

Steve is just confused, but when he also realizes what is happening, he looks kind of amused at the sight of you and Bucky on the same bed.

When the men's attention is finally away from each other and on you, you ask the question you’ve been wanting to ask since you were very rudely woken up. "What the fuck are you two dumbasses yelling for?"

Steve cringes at your choice of words but seems to think better of saying anything seeing that you're already pretty pissed at them.

"Hey! You don’t get to ask questions right now!" Tony’s still yelling and suddenly you wish you had more military approved shoes to throw. "What the hell do you think you’re doing sleeping with this monster?!"

"Tony, stop with the name calling, for the love of God!" Steve says, clearly as exasperated with him as you feel.

"Yes, for fuck sakes, Tony, stop. You can’t just keep showing up every time I’m near Bucky acting like he’s planning my murder!" You feel Bucky tense up next to you at your words, so you turn towards him "alright, poor choice of words, but the sentiment remains."

You turn back to Tony, who's about to say something, surely some more insults for Bucky, but you don’t give him a chance.

"I’m getting really tired of your judgment, of you thinking you know what’s better and making decisions for me. I thought I was clear yesterday: I don’t care what you think Bucky is, I have a brain of my own and can make my own decisions based on my own opinions. The Bucky that I met is nothing like you say he is, and I’m not going to avoid him just because you have hang-ups. I’ve been kicking ass since before you decided to play superhero and definitely can take care of myself. I don’t need to be saved from anything, especially not from Bucky, who’s been nothing but quiet and sweet and right now is about the only person in this tower who has never lied to me. Now, get the fuck out of here and, unless somebody’s ass is on fire or dead, do not bother me. And you better leave Bucky the fuck alone or I’m going to be pissed. Clear?"

You honestly didn’t think that would’ve been the end of it, but to your, and Steve’s, surprise Tony merely nods his understanding before stomping out of the room.

"Same goes for you, Captain Dumbass. Out, now." you tell the blond super soldier, who looks like he was dying to say something.

Thankfully, he thinks better of it and, with one last smile towards Bucky, leaves the room.

You sigh, relieved that they’re gone, but now the room is eerily silent. Just when you can’t take it anymore and are about to say the first thing that goes through your mind, Bucky finally says something for the first time since you woke up.

"Thank you." it’s so quiet that you almost think you imagined it, but when you turn to face him you find him already looking at you and he keeps going "You didn’t have to do that. You know, defend me. So, thank you."

"Don’t worry. He was being an ass, he deserved it." you smile at him "Let me know if he bothers you again, I’ll be sure to shove one of his helmets up his ass." he smiles at you, but it falls almost instantly.

"I don’t deserve your kindness…" he looks away from you and it breaks your heart a little.

"You actually believe that, don’t you?" you say quietly, more to yourself than him.

"Bucky, look at me." you say with the same soft voice you had yesterday while you were helping him.

You wait patiently until he looks you in the eye and when he does, you slowly move your hand towards his face. When he doesn’t pull away or stop you in any way, his eyes never leaving yours, you let it sit on his cheek.

"I hope you know that I really meant what I said. I don’t think any of the things Tony does. It doesn’t matter to me who you were, I see who you are now and that’s what’s important. Everyone deserves kindness, but, based on everything I’ve heard these past two days, I think you might deserve it more than anybody. The world failed you once, I’ll be damned if I let it fail you again. Okay?"

He looks at you with teary eyes and, before you know it, he's giving you a hug much tighter than yesterday, almost like he's afraid that if he lets you go you’ll change your mind.

"Okay." he whispers into your shoulder when you hug him back just as tight.

You can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. There’s just something about Bucky that draws you to him and maybe, just maybe, the feeling’s mutual.

You let Bucky decide when he’s ready to let go and after a few minutes he does. You give him one last smile and then move to get out of bed, when his voice stops you again.

"Can I ask you something?" you look back at him nodding. "yesterday, at the gym…" he starts and you tense a little, knowing where he was going with this so you decide to cut him off before he even gets the chance to ask anything too specific.

"It was nothing, I was just angry and needed to work off some energy" you get up and put on your shoes while you talk "honestly sometimes I lose track of time while I’m working out, it’s no big deal."

He must’ve seen the change in you tone and body language, because he quickly says "I’m sorry, it’s none of my business, I didn’t mean to make you mad."

You stop on your tracks as you were making your way towards the door, turn around and look at him.

He seems to feel actually bad just at the thought of upsetting you, which makes you feel guilty for giving that impression. This was just a topic you weren’t ready to talk about.

"I’m not mad, Bucky, I promise. I just don’t particularly want to talk about it." he nodded his understanding. "tell you what, I was thinking of taking a quick shower and changing and then going to the big kitchen to get some breakfast. How about we meet in 15 and go together?"

He seems to hesitate a bit at the idea of going to the kitchen where everybody else is going to be, and you can't blame him.

You yourself would gladly avoid everybody, but the big kitchen is just better stocked than the one on your floor.

"C’mon nobody will bother you and, if they do, they’ll have to deal with me. I’ll make us pancakes." you add with a smile, trying to convince him.

Finally, with a smile, he nods. Nobody can resist pancakes.

With a victorious nod of your own, you leave his room and go next door to yours where you take a shower and change into some comfortable sweats.

About 15 minutes later you come out of your room to find Bucky already waiting for you, leaning on his door. As soon as he sees you he pushes himself off his door and smiles at you, then you both make your way to the elevator in silence.

It's a comfortable silence, not like the one before in his bedroom, this was one you didn’t feel the need to fill, and apparently neither did he.

You make your way to the kitchen and you pat one of the stools at the island, signaling at Bucky to sit. He does and then watches as you make your way around the kitchen picking all the necessary things.

You work in silence, but you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you the whole time. Not like it bothers you.

It isn't like when guys ogle you in bars, where you know what they’re thinking just by the look on their face, and is never clean thoughts.

No, Bucky’s gaze feels like being seen for the first time in your life.

Somehow you just knew he wasn’t thinking anything dirty, every time your eyes meet his and you give him a smile he gives you the cutest smile back, and you can't help but think that his face looks like a little kid’s on Christmas.

You somehow feel like he's just so amazed by you and he makes you feel like you're the only person in the world at this moment.

Every now and then a different Avenger enters the kitchen, but you do your best to ignore them all. You're still pissed and don't feel like yelling at anyone else today.

You finish making pancakes and make a plate for Bucky and then one for yourself. Knowing he's a super soldier and probably has as fast a metabolism as Steve’s, you give him a generous serving, still leaving plenty for everyone else.

Yes, you're angry, but you aren’t cruel.

You sit down next to Bucky and smile at him when he says a quiet ‘thank you’.

You watch people come in and out, throwing a thank you for the pancakes but then giving up when you won't even look at them.

That is, until Scott came in. He sits in front to you while he eats some pancakes, and when he's finished he tries his luck. "Hey, Cassie’s coming over later. Do you want to hang out with us?"

You narrow your eyes at him, pointing your fork in this direction. "Are you using your cute daughter to get me to talk to you? ‘Cause that’s a dick move."

You hear Bucky chuckling and turn your head towards the amazing sound with a surprised smile on your face, but before you can comment about it, Scott answers you.

"Can you blame me? You won't talk to any of us, what’s a guy gotta do to get his best friend back?" He says laughing.

You turn back to him and can't help but laugh at the pout he's giving you. "Fine, you win. Just stop making that face, please, you look like a sad puppy."

"That’s why it works!" he laughs victorious "She’ll be here around eleven. See you later." he puts his plate in the dishwasher and leaves. You do the same thing with yours and Bucky’s plates and then turn to him.

"Ok, so I have a couple of hours before Cassie gets here. Do you have anything planned for today?" he shakes his head no and you hum in response, but before you can propose anything Steve comes into the kitchen.

"Hey Buck, ready to go?" at Bucky’s confused look, Steve elaborates "We have a meeting with Fury. We need to discuss your hearing, remember?"

"Oh, right…" is all Bucky says, glancing at you before he gets up while looking at the ground.

He almost looks sad at having something to do today, even if it’s something important. Steve looks from you to Bucky a couple of times, but your attention is solely focused on the brunette, still trying your best to ignore Steve.

"Well, I’ll find something to do." you tell Bucky, getting a little closer to him.

"Come find me when you’re back? You know, to tell me how it goes?" you try your luck and, when he looks up, his eyes are a little wider, even if he was smiling, clearly surprised that you still want him around.

"I will." he says. You return his smile and give him a quick peck on the cheek before making your way to the elevator.

"Bye, Bucky." you say as you get on it, and hear him say ‘bye’ while the doors close, as you think about a way to make yourself busy for a little while.

You completely miss the way Steve grins at Bucky and the groan that Bucky lets out at his friend's stupid face before going his own way with him.

Part 5

Taglist: @aesthetic0cherryblossom @buchi91 @sapphirebarnes

[yeetmyboi]

Chapter 3 : Kindred Spirits, all the same…

a/n: MDNI pls. ghostxreader. collage by me, i don’t own the images.

— — —

That meeting room felt like a battleground of sorts. Not to be won with sweat, guns, and bullets. But one that was well outside of your depth yet been instructed to follow through. Friendliness was never your strong suit. Too many people could hurt you, and too many already have...

Life could only treat you like shit for so long before you end up a numb, angry pessimist with trust issues.

At least that’s the conclusion you came to.

The tension in the room was heavy. Weighing down on your chest. The two men who walked in first were still talking to each other, even snickering at some inside jokes.

Something about a helicopter?

That was all that filled the silence. The one with the cracked skull mask hadn’t even spoken a word to the others as he walked in. Bit odd considering they’re his teammates... But guessed it was your presence that kept him from doing so.

Still, not one has greeted or acknowledged you directly beyond their stares and sly comments to each other. Even then, you knew their attention was all on you.

You watch as the masked man moved from the threshold of the door to take the last available seat.

Right. Next. To. You.

You felt your body stiffen. His close presence making your jaw tighten and nostrils flare. It felt as if you were expecting some form of conflict. Your body having a visceral reaction to someone like him sitting that close to you.

There was something about him that immediately has you on your guard. Could it be the way he keeps staring at you, only from the corner of his eyes? The way he hasn’t even acknowledged his comrades? Just how absolutely massive he was? The fact that he wore a mask while surrounded by his teammates? Close mates of his, your mind reminds you. Whatever it was, it sent a chill running down your spine. Forcing you to sit just a little bit straighter.

Trust. Loyalty. Vulnerability.That’s what was needed in order for this all to work. A team can’t function without it. Hell, that’s what made a group of trained killers a team. Even as someone who doesn’t easily give it, you knew that. But you were willing to at least try for the sake of your paycheck. Even if the thought of opening up made you feel like your skin was being rubbed raw.

Unfortunately it wasn’t a new feeling. One that makes your muscles coil and tense. These men have the potential to be either your allies or your enemies.

You hope the former.

Yet their— already clear —displeasure/hesitation of having an outsider being accepted into their fold told you this wasn’t gonna be easy. Evident by the tension in just first few minutes of you being in their space.

How is an outsider like you supposed to find a place in this already tight-knit group?

“Alright, let’s get this started.”

A gruff Liverpudlian accent breaks the silence. Your attention snaps from the man beside you to the fourth and final man as he enters the room. An air of authority and control following him, causing the two men that were murmuring to each other to stop.

First thing you notice about him? He looks tired. His face aged from the years of conflict, bags under his eyes. Deep blue eyes that seemed to have seen far too much and spent too many long nights awake.

A worn bucket hat atop his head. His bushier mustache with thick sideburns rounding out his face. That’s when you recognized him from the photo Laswell showed you. You felt a smirk tug at the corners of your mouth.

So, this was to be your Captain for the time being.… he doesn’t seem too bad…

“As I’m sure, you lot already noticed the new face in the room.” He states. The Captain stands on the opposite side of the table from the group, reaching out to the three manilla folders that laid in the middle. His wrist flicking one out to each member but you.

Then he looks to you, waving you up by his side. You promptly follow the silent command. Your combat boots shuffling against the thin carpet. You took your place next to Captain Price, falling back into a familiar pose. Just like the obedient dog you once were. Standing tall with your arms tucked behind your back, feet shoulder-length apart. Chin held up high and a neutral look on your face.

You weren’t much for introductions. Hating all the eyes on you. People assessing and deeming your worth right then and there. It always put you on edge. You find a brown water stain on the wall to hold your stare. All the while you could feel the weight of their judgement heavy on your shoulders.

You are worth more than mere numbers on paper.

Your quick but dull eyes moved to look at the three men gathered before you. Studying them right back as they were studying you. Tuning out anything Price was saying about you and your new role within the team. Only hearing him as he introduced each of the men before you.

You quickly glanced at each of the men who were to be your new teammates as they were introduced. Soap, the one with the Warhawk, seemed excited and maybe even a bit intrigued by your presence. While Gaz, the other with a darker skin tone, a cap and gentle brown eyes; just offered a polite smile and nod. The two sergeants.

Then your eyes locked with whiskey brown ones.

Lieutenant Simon Riley… Ghost.

You note the way his eyes were cold, hardened by your stare. Yet there was a deep sadness in them. Held back and buried deep.

Almost reminding you of yourself.

Realizing your eyes lingered on him longer than the others, Ghost narrowed his. A scoff puffing out his nose in a quiet huff.

You narrowed your gaze back, just the slightest bit. Not willing to roll over and expose your belly like some mutt. There, you could just imagine the thoughts running through his head. What’s she doing here? How much damage could a lil’ lady like her do that I can’t? At least that’s what you assumed was going through Ghost’s head, given his cold attitude.

You snap back when Price’s hand clasped you on your shoulder, telling you welcome and to return to your seat. Blinking for a moment, you look to Price and give a curt nod. Then returned to the chair right next to Ghost. This time pulling it away from the table and swinging backwards. You plopped down on it, your arms resting on top of the back, hands linking together loosely. Your jaw was tight but kept your shoulders relaxed, wanting to get this done and over with.

You were no longer a trained military Lieutenant. Who said you had to adhere to all of their strict standards? You’re a PMC soldier now, having more freedom than them— less red tape holding you back. You were free to do what you pleased as long as it didn’t interfere with the mission. Right? You were told to be friendly. Not someone they can walk all over. Sitting backwards was just your small act of reminding them just that.

That’s when the masked Lieutenant decided to break his silence. Clearly not impressed with you or your actions.

"Ain’t this cozy?" he finally spoke, murmuring under his breath. His voice is low and gravelly, a hint of disdain weaving through a thick Mancunian accent. His arms were crossed over his wide chest now. He didn't wait for an answer before continuing, his words laced with sarcasm. "Stray, was it? That supposed to be some kind of joke?"

Price seemed to shoot a glare at the Lieutenant but the man paid his Captain no mind. Staring down at you, waiting for your retort. Wanting to see how easy you break. You chose not to answer, not wanting to even dignify that with a response.

Ghost shifted in his seat, his muscles involuntary tightening. Not happy about the close proximity or your lack of response. Then Ghost's voice, derisive and laced with barely veiled disdain, cut through the room once more�� but not towards you.

"So, we're takin' on charity cases now, are we?"

“Focus on the meeting, Lieutenant.”

You barked at him in a harsh tone. Addressing him in your own authoritative ‘Lieutenant’ voice. You once held the same rank as him, and wasn’t afraid to remind these men of it. Your eyes looking to the side at him, not bothered enough to even turn your head at him, with contempt. Bloody bastard, trying to rile me up…

There was almost a deafening silence that fell over the room. The two Sergeants exchanging a look before looking back at you and Ghost. Almost sure chaos was about to erupt.

You roll your shoulders, as if to brush off the conversation Ghost tried to initiate. Your face staying neutral as you force your attention back on Price. Typical… probs feeling like he needs to assert himself over the fresh meat. Still, you could feel the heat of his glare on you. Like daggers trying to pierce your skin. But kept your focus on the Captain, waiting for him to keep going.

“Please continue, Captain.” You say while trying to rein yourself back in. It’s just another job and he’s just another prick. You tell yourself this over and over, like a mantra, in effort to keep your cool.

The undercurrents of hostility in the room was growing by leaps and bounds within seconds. The team glanced from one to the other as Price cleared his throat. Then he resumed the briefing, detailing the mission parameters and objectives with pointed professionalism. Although you can tell while Ghost's attention remained on the Captain's words, his peripheral vision was keeping tabs on your reactions and body language.

"Right now, we all have a moment to get our bearings," Price stated, glancing between his team, lingering between you and Ghost for a moment longer, “but we'll need to be ready at a moment’s notice the second Laswell gets a break in the intel we gathered.”

The intel Price spoke of seemed to be linked to the missing groups of young men, ages ranging anywhere from 16-20. It started in one of the remote villages in Russia and spread out like wildfire.

Of course, old myths and legends were what locals chalked it up to. After all, it was only a handful at a time. At first. Then it went international. Taking much more than just a few. So much so that the US and SAS were getting themselves involved now.

As Price wrapped up the details, the Lieutenant seemed to refrain from any further verbal sparring. Once the briefing concluded, the team stood, and Ghost, full of silent reserve and palpable disdain, made to pass by you.

"Don't get too comfortable here, Stray," he warned in a growl low enough for only you to hear.

You exhale a huff through your nostrils at his words. Must be the fuckin’ guard dog of the pack. Steadily you rise from your seat, swinging the foldable metal chair back in line with the others before promptly making an exit.

—— —— ——

Ghost plodded out of the room, his heavy boots thudding rhythmically down the hallway. Heading towards the one place he knew that he’d find some sort of control. His mind immersed in strategic considerations and personal vexations.

In the armory, Ghost began prepping his gear, his movements precise and well practiced. His thoughts were still partly on you, though he wouldn’t admit it. The new variable in his otherwise predictable environment was irksome enough, but there was something else, an edge to your defiance that Ghost found... discomforting.

Price soon joined him, knowing his second in command well, grabbing his own equipment. The elder soldier cast a discerning gaze at Ghost, reading the subtle signs of discontent in his Lieutenant’s posture. "Give the lass a chance, Simon," Price urged, the use of Ghost's given name indicating the seriousness of his request.

Ghost merely grunted in response, not willing to concede the point just yet.

She'll have to prove herself first. Until then, she's just another liability.