#fuck coffee world though that place put me on edge

[unmarkedhelicopter]

I’ve unfortunately picked up deputy Thornton’s repeated “shOW thE BItch WHo’s boSS” line as a new thing I just say all the time, it’s just such a funny thing to warble out in an exaggerated backcountry accent at random times. Yes, it’s driving my partner insane

[mercvry-glow]

all that gleams (18+)

parings. jack abbot x nurse!reader

summary. everyone seems to be hitting on you tonight, and your husband doesn't seem to appreciate all of the attention you're getting.

warnings. this is 18+ so mdni, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rough/jealousy sex, half plot/half porn, sex in the work place, hospital setting, age gap (jack late 40s, reader late 20s to early 30s), reader gets hit on by men who are not jack, non-consensual touching (patient grabs reader), reader has hair, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. where the fuck do I even begin? uhhhh- so many people asked for a sequel to all that glitters and I never thought I'd actually do it but here we are! I absolutely live for their dynamic, and they're softcore rich which is truly the dream. I'm actually really proud of this, especially bc this is my second time writing any form of smut! as always any and all feedback is appreciated and please enjoy!

wc. 4700+

all that glitters

There wasn’t a person in your life who hadn’t told you getting married so young was a mistake. A newly minted nurse with a shiny new degree, a big diamond ring, and a big house in the nicest part of town—people loved to talk. And they did, especially behind your back.

“Too fast,” they said

“Too young.”

 “She doesn’t know what she’s getting into.”

But they didn’t know Jack.

He’d been your constant through it all. Through the twelve-hour shifts, the night terrors you both had but didn’t always talk about, the tangled mess of silky bed sheets and plain coffee mornings. He never missed a beat, not with you. He always made sure the front door was locked, that you didn’t forget to eat, that you never had to face a bad day completely alone.

Jack Abbot was your storm and shelter all at once.

Still, some days it felt like you were speaking two different languages. You’d grown up with champagne brunches, sorority sisters, and an Ivy League education on Daddy’s dime. Jack grew up fast though—boots on the ground, blood on his hands, and scars no one could see unless he let them. 

His world had edges, and darkness only he could understand. 

Yours had comfy throw pillows and a walk-in closet.

Falling for each other had been a whirlwind, but staying in love… that took work. 

Especially now.

Lately, every conversation felt like walking on eggshells. He was short with you. Distant. And maybe you were a little more sensitive than usual—he always said you felt deeply, cared too much. Maybe you did miss the way he used to look at you, touch you, talk to you like you were the only person in the room.

Now? Now he was somewhere else—lost in his head, behind some wall you couldn’t climb no matter how hard you tried.

And you still tried.

 You showed up to work, same time as him, hair curled, and lip gloss on as usual. Your scrubs were still fitted just right, your badge reel sparkled, and your sneakers matched your pastel compression socks of the day. You were tired, overworked, and emotionally frayed—but damn it, you still tried, for yourself, for him, and most certainly for your patients .

He didn’t even say “Hi,” when you checked in.

Just a curt nod, eyes already scanning a trauma sheet.

Fine. You had a job to do anyway.

The ER was chaotic, as usual. You floated between rooms, upbeat as always, soft-voiced with your patients, making the new interns laugh with your sparkly pens and habit of humming softly under your breath.

That’s when he showed up.

Leo, tall, handsome in a sun-kissed, ex-lifeguard in the Baywatch kind of way, and new. The latest temp nurse from another hospital, and definitely not shy.

“You always this put-together at 7 p.m.?” he said, grinning as he helped you restock the IV cart.

You glanced up from your clipboard, smiling just enough. “Only when there’s new employees to impress.”

He laughed, nudging your elbow. “Well, consider me thoroughly impressed.”

Across the hall, you didn’t see Jack. But he was seeing everything.

You caught a flash of movement in your peripheral vision—him, leaning against the med station, pretending to read a chart. The way his jaw clenched was less than subtle. So was the way he suddenly had something urgent to discuss with Dr. Reese, right behind where you were standing.

You didn’t react. Just went back to scanning meds, asking Leo if he needed help finding anything on his first night. You were being polite. Friendly. Maybe a little intentionally oblivious—but only because it felt good to be noticed by anyone today.

Jack didn’t say a word.

But every time you turned around, he was there. Close. Watching.

He didn’t like it. You could feel it.

And for the first time in weeks, you felt something that wasn’t just disappointment.

You felt giddy.

You weren’t trying to make him jealous.

But if he was suddenly remembering the woman he married? The one who lit up a room? The one who still wore t-shirts to bed and nothing else, even when he acted like he didn’t care?

Good.

Let him remember.

The next few hours passed in a blur of motion and monitors—IVs, trauma alerts, vitals to chart and families to console. You stayed busy, focused, but not so focused you didn’t notice the way Jack kept drifting into your orbit.

Not close enough to talk.

Just… there.

Lingering near the nurse’s station when you laughed at something Leo said. Answering the trauma bay calls himself when you usually did first. A silent presence, watching without watching, always just a little too close not to be intentional.

There had been so much to do between learning about coworkers drama, taking care of patients, and dealing with incoming traumas that you’d been on your feet for almost seven hours straight before getting any sort of break.

Still not having found the right time to touch the overnight oats in your lunchbox.

Typical.

You finally ducked into the break room around 2:30 a.m., practically vibrating from a bit too much caffeine and sheer stubbornness. Your sneakers squeaked on the tile as you opened your lunch tote, pulling out your jar with a satisfied “Aha”. You gave it a little shake and popped the lid, the faint scent of almond butter and cinnamon curling into the air.

Leo was already in there, lounging in the corner with a Coke Zero and half a sandwich he didn’t seem particularly interested in eating.

“That looks suspiciously healthy,” he said, eyeing your jar like it confused him.

You grinned. “It’s delicious. Cinnamon, chia seeds, oat milk, with a little bit of honey and almond butter. You should try it sometime—maybe it will lower your blood pressure.”

Leo let out a low whistle. “Oof. She’s cute and judgmental.”

You wiggled your spoon at him. “I’m not judgmental. I’m just stating a fact,”

“Same difference,”

You laughed, shaking your head as you settled on the couch. Your big water tumbler clinked softly on the table as you set it down. Leo glanced at it.

“Okay, real talk. How many cups do you own?”

“Oh at least ten,” you said proudly. “And yes, they all match my scrubs and socks.”

He chuckled. “Of course they do.”

You were in the middle of telling him about your latest homemade electrolyte concoction—something with sea salt, lemon, and maple syrup—when the door creaked open.

Jack stepped inside, silent as ever. No one noticed at first, but you felt him before you saw him. That familiar pull.

You looked up and smiled, just a little.

He didn’t smile back.

He walked to the cabinet, pulled out a pod of instant coffee, and started making the world’s saddest cup of caffeine.

“You good?” you asked, casually, spoon still dangling from your mouth.

Jack shrugged. “Fine.”

Leo gave him a nod. “Rough night, man?”

“Same as every night,” Jack said coolly.

There was a pause.

You went back to your oats.

Leo leaned over slightly, stage-whispering, “Is it true you color-code your vitamins?”

You lit up. “Oh my god, yes! You have to! It’s so satisfying.”

Jack let out a breath—not quite a sigh. Not quite anything.

Just something.

Leo turned to him. “She’s kind of a fairy, huh? Healthy, pretty, and scary organized.”

Jack didn’t answer. Just stirred his coffee with the kind of force that made the spoon clink too loudly against the mug.

“I mean, who even makes time for meal prep on night shift?” Leo kept going, still playful, still oblivious. “She comes in glowing while I’m running on vending machine Pop-Tarts and anxiety.”

You grinned again. “You say that like Pop-Tarts are bad.”

Jack finally looked up. Right at you.

“I liked you better when you were sneaking granola bars from my locker.”

Your breath caught a little—not because it was mean. But because it sounded like a memory.

You raised a brow. “You never let me finish the boxes.”

Jack’s gaze didn’t move.

“Maybe I liked the distraction.”

The room went quiet again.

Leo cleared his throat and stood. “Okay, I’m gonna grab another Coke. You two want anything?”

“No,” Jack said, a little too quickly.

You shook your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

When Leo left, the silence stretched.

You scooped another spoonful of oats, pretending not to feel the weight of Jack’s stare.

“You didn’t answer my text,” he said finally.

You blinked. “Which one?”

“The one about locking the side door this morning.”

“Oh.” You smiled faintly. “Sorry, I was halfway through meal prepping for us and my mom called... You know how she gets.”

Jack nodded, jaw tight. “You’re supposed to text me back.”

You raised a brow again, but this time softer. “Jack. It was about a door.”

“It was about you being safe.”

That landed somewhere in your chest.

You didn’t say anything for a second. Just set your spoon down and leaned back into the couch.

“I was fine,” you said gently. “I promise.”

Jack didn’t reply. But he reached for your cup, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip (not using the straw) like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You stared. “That has lemon in it.”

He grimaced. “Tastes like a scented candle.”

You laughed.

He didn’t.

But the corners of his mouth twitched—just a little.

He set your water with a quiet thud, the lid clicking into place like it was holding something back for him, too.

You tilted your head, watching him in that way you always did when you were trying to read what was going on behind those stormy, hazel eyes. “You're drinking lemon water,” you said, voice lilting. “Should I be worried?”

Jack didn’t look at you. “I was thirsty.”

You smiled. “And yet the entire fridge full of bottled water didn’t do it for you?”

He shrugged.

“Grumpy,” you said under your breath, just loud enough.

His eyes finally flicked to yours. “I’m not grumpy.”

“You kind of are.”

“I’m tired.”

“You always say that when you’re being grumpy.”

Jack gave you a slow look—flat, dry, and just a little amused. “You finished?”

“Not even close,” you said sweetly, your elbow propped on the arm of the couch. “You’re cranky, you’re overcaffeinated, and you get weirdly possessive whenever someone’s nice to me.”

That got his attention.

“I’m not possessive,” he said.

You smirked. “Jack, you nearly snapped Leo’s neck when he said I had good handwriting.”

“That’s not what he said, and you know that.”

You blinked, then laughed. “Okay, fine. ‘Prettiest charting I’ve ever seen,’ and he winked. So what?”

Jack’s jaw tightened—just slightly.

You stood, stretching your arms overhead in a way that made your scrub top ride up just a little. His eyes tracked the motion like muscle memory.

You stepped closer, toes nearly brushing his boots. “I like that you care about this,” you said, softer now. “It’s kind of hot, actually.”

He looked at you—really looked at you—for the first time all night.

“You drive me crazy, kid.” he muttered.

You beamed. “So you are jealous.”

Jack sighed through his nose, the tension melting from his shoulders like an exhale he’d been holding in too long. His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering a second too long.

“I know you’re mine,” he said quietly. “I just… sometimes I forget the rest of the world doesn’t always know it.”

Your chest tightened. Not in a painful way. In a finally, you’re here with me again kind of way.

You reached for his hand and squeezed. “Well, they do. But if you ever forget again, I’ll tattoo your name on my ass”

That earned you a snort—low and surprised.

“I’m serious,” you teased, squeezing his fingers. “Right across my cheeks. Property of Jack Abbot. Think it’d go with my Bikinis when I start tanning again?”

His lips twitched. “You’re insane.”

“Mm. And you’re stuck with me.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice quieter now, as he dipped down for a soft kiss,  “Wouldn’t change it.”

And there it was.

The part of him no one else got to see—the softness under all that armor he put up. The way he looked at you like you were the only thing in this chaotic, blood-slicked hospital worth holding onto.

Before you could say anything else, the overhead crackled to life:

“Trauma en route. ETA four minutes. MVA, two patients. GSW secondary.”

Jack’s head lifted, all instinct now. You were already moving toward the door when his hand caught yours.

He didn’t pull, didn’t squeeze—just held.

“Be careful,” he said.

You leaned in again, kissing his cheek, quick and certain. “Always.”

Then the moment passed, and the hallway swallowed you both—he leading, you following, hearts synced in the rhythm of the ER. But his hand brushed yours again as you walked.

The trauma had come in hard and fast—twisted metal, broken glass, and enough blood to soak through your shoes. Jack had been in the thick of it, barking orders, steady hands moving like muscle memory while you worked across from him, suctioning, suturing, stabilizing. For a while, there was no room for anything else. No talking. No teasing. Just the two of you, back in sync, locked in the rhythm you knew so well. It was easy to forget the cracks when the adrenaline kicked in.

But by 4:15 a.m., the ER had slowed to a lull.

The kind that was never quiet, but at least breathable.

You’d just finished helping a resident clean up trauma one when they wheeled in another patient—mid-40s, minor head lac, walking wounded and very, very drunk.

You smiled politely, grabbing a suture kit.

“Alright, sir. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Can you sit still for me?”

He gave you a once-over that made your skin crawl. “Sure thing, sweetheart. For you, I’ll be real good.”

You kept it professional. “Thank you.”

But the longer you worked, the bolder he got.

“You married?” he slurred.

You didn’t answer.

“Bet your husband’s not half as pretty as you.”

You offered a tight smile. “Try to stay still. This part stings a little.”

He didn’t even flinch. “You ever date older guys? I got a boat, you know.”

You glanced around the bay, but the resident was long gone, charting somewhere out of earshot.

“I’m flattered, really, but I already have a boat,” you said lightly, finishing the last stitch. “And you’re gonna feel real silly about this in the morning.”

He grinned, crooked and gross. “Not if you give me your number.”

And then he reached out—his hands brushing your hips in a way that was not accidental.

You stepped back instantly, heart thudding.

“That’s enough sir,” you said sharply, your voice still steady, still calm—but colder now. “I’m going to step out for a minute, since I’ve finished. Someone else will check on you soon.”

You didn’t wait for a reply.

You slipped into the furthest supply closet you could easily find and leaned against the shelves, chest rising and falling like you’d just run a sprint. Your hands were shaking—more with anger than fear—but still. It clung to your skin.

The door creaked open a minute later.

“Hey.”

Jack.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, gaze scanning your face. “One of the other nurses said he got grabby.”

You looked up at him, throat tight. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t answer that right away. Just moved closer and touched your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he needed to ground himself.

“You sure?” he asked, quieter now.

You nodded. “Just… gross. Not the first, won’t be the last.”

His jaw flexed. “It shouldn’t be happening at all.”

You leaned into his hand. “It’s okay. I handled it.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle it.”

You looked up at him. “Jack—”

He stepped closer, and suddenly his body was pressed against yours, warm and solid and steady. His hands found your waist, rough fingers curling around your hips.

“I should be the only one touching you,” he said, voice low.

“We’ll get written up…”

“I don’t care.”

But Jack wasn’t hearing logic right now. He was standing there like he could still smell every guy you had met tonight on you, like the air hadn’t cleared yet.

“Hey.” You placed your hands on his chest, grounding him. “We don’t have to do this here…”

His hands squeezed your waist. “You’re mine.”

“I know.”

“You don’t flirt like that with anyone else, right?”

You blinked, caught off-guard. “Flirt like what?”

“Like you did with that prick.”

You frowned a abit. “I was being nice. He asked if I wanted  something from the vending machine- he asked you too and you looked at him like he offered me lingerie.”

Jack didn’t budge. His grip didn’t loosen.

You tried again. Softer this time.

“I steal your clothes. I come home to you. I wear the ring you bought me, and I’m your wife. I chose you.”

His eyes searched yours—tired, and heavy, with a mix of something else.

You rose on your toes, placing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “I’m yours, Jack.”

And then his arms were around you fully, pulling you in like he needed to feel your heartbeat to believe it. Your heart thudded in your chest, a beat behind your breath. You looked at him, eyes narrowed, lips parted.

You didn’t hear him lock the door.

You felt it.

That soft, decisive click behind you—like a promise.

“Did you just lock the door?”

Jack’s answer was a look—slow, hot, and so heavy it pinned you in place. He stepped with the kind of precision that said this wasn’t spontaneous. No, he’d decided the second he saw you walk into the closet room, cheeks flushed, lip gloss smudged, tensions high. 

The second all these guys started paying attention to you tonight. 

Jack hadn’t liked that.

He tried to be quiet about it, like always. Quiet the way a storm is—only right before it breaks.

He stopped just barely inches from you, hand coming up to trace a line along your jaw. His fingers were thick, rough, warm, familiar. His touch didn’t ask permission. It remembered.

“You keep smiling like that,” he said low, his voice a gravel-coated whisper, “and I’ll have to fuck the memory of it out of you.”

Your breath caught—somewhere between outrage and arousal. “Jack—”

But you didn’t get the rest out.

He kissed you.

Not sweet. Not careful.

Claiming.

His hands tangled in your hair, dragging you into him like it was instinct, like your mouth had always belonged to his. You melted into him, your body curving against his like you were built for this—built for him. His hips pressed forward, pinning you to the wall of the storage closet, and your head thudded back softly against the cool plaster as his lips slid down to your throat, sucking, biting just enough to make you gasp.

“Locked the door for a reason,” he murmured, tongue flicking against the skin where your pulse fluttered. “Tired of pretending I didn’t want you every second we’re here.”

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping his shirt like lifelines. “You’re sooo jealous.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, dark eyes devouring. “Damn right I’m jealous.”

His hand slid under your scrub top, skimming up your ribs, palm flat, hot and possessive. “You’re mine—I can’t fucking stand it when they look at you like you’re not.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” you whispered, breathless, lips grazing his.

His answer was a growl.

Jack spun you, quick and controlled, pressing you front-first against the shelves. Supplies rattled, somewhere above you—gloves, gauze, sterile wraps—but it was the sound of his breath at your neck that made your knees threaten to buckle.

His hands roamed—under your shirt to your tits, over the waistband of your scrub pants, every inch of bare skin he found earning a new kind of heat.

“You wanna be flirted with?” he whispered, voice dragging down your spine. “Fine. But I get to remind you who makes you cum”

You gasped as his mouth met the base of your neck, teeth grazing, tongue following. “Jack…”

“You knew,” he said again, almost reverent now. 

And god help you, you did.

Because you’d walked in here to take a second, needing this—needing him. Not just his hands or his mouth or the way he made you come apart so effortlessly, but this claiming. This reminder. That under all the stress, the silence, the long nights and missed moments—the fire still burned. Hot. Unrelenting.

His fingers slipped lower, teasing the waist of your scrub pants, and you pressed back against him without thinking, needing more, needing everything.

“You’re mine,” he murmured again, lips brushing your shoulder, low and slow. “Say it.”

You turned your head just enough to whisper, “I’m yours, Jack. Always.”

And that was all it took.

He kept you facing the shelves, a hand coming down to your hips to steady you as he continued to feel you up with the other. “Yeah? You gonna be my good girl, sweetheart?” 

The whimper you let out was pathetic. A low pitched sound that came from the back of your throat, as Jack started to flood your senses. He gave your ass a quick, hard, smack. Hand going back to rub over the spot, as it snapped you out of your daze. “I asked you a question, baby.” 

You nodded, desperately. Already whoozy from the assault on your sense that your husband brought on. “Mhm! Jack-”

He shushed you, gently pushing down your scrub pants, “Gotta make this quick and quiet, or they’ll all know what a bad girl you’ve been.” 

Reaching back, you straightend up leaning into his burning touch, wanting him closer than he already was. You could feel how hard he was beneath his cargos, half chubbed as he ground his hips into your panty-clad ass. 

You would’ve felt embarressed if this hadn’t felt so right. 

Clothes barely off, lazily grinding against your husband in a closet like you’re back in some college frat house at UPenn. 

Jack doesn’t waste anymore time though, hastily shoving your panties down, rough fingers making quick work of finding your swollen clit. The tight circles he does against you, make you feel dizzy—legs already beginning to shake, as if you haven’t been working for ten hours already. 

Your moans are muffled by your arm as you lean further into the shelves, but press your hips back toward Jack. Your resolve slowly slipping, as he dips a finger in your wet heat. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” he groans out softly, continuing as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. 

Then he just pulls away.

Not entirely, still so close that you’ve basically become one. It’s enough for you to whine at the loss of contact, pushing back into him hoping he’ll start again. 

“Why’d you stop?” Jack can practically hear the pout in your voice. The breathy little lilt of displeasure showing in your tone. 

“Sorry, baby. We only have time for one thing, and I’d much rather make you cum on my cock.” He kisses the back of your neck, gentle and loving as ever as he reaches down to free himself from his scrub pants. 

He’s aching, he’s so hard. 

He takes a few deep breaths before haphazrdly stroking himself. Fisting his cock in his meaty hand, already slick after playing with your wet little cunt. 

Jack wasn’t going to make love to you. 

He was going to fuck you like you needed it. 

Lining himself up, Jack pushed in with a solid thrust of his sturdy hips. You just about collapsed into the shelves, already feeling so full of Jack as he started a steady rhythm. It was overwhelming, one of his hands tight against your hips as he used it to guide you into his thrusts, the other snaked over your mouth to muffle your breathy moans because the hallway was just beyond the locked closet door.

“Shit- you’re so fucking tight, baby.” you cleched against him as he drove himself further into you, trying to angle himself to hit the spot that would have you seeing stars in no time. 

Your walls hugged him tight, leaving him a mess as he watched himself slip in and out of you in a trance like state. 

“Fuck Jack-” you start mewling, hips pushing and grinding to meet his thrusts. “Ah- ah, you’re so deep.” 

He mumbles something incoherent against your shoulder, both of his hands moving to your hips and ass to get more leverage to fuck you nice and hard. 

You can tell you’re making a mess of yourself, panties clearly ruined with how you’re leaking down your thighs and his cock. Each thrust is a new shockwave of pleasure you don’t expect, but Jack doesn’t let up and you don’t want him to. 

“Too m-much,” his cock throbs, hard and heavy inside you as he stills for just a second. 

“Yeah? It’s too much for you, Sweetheart?” It’s almost mocking as he draws it out into longer deeper strokes—the ones that make it hard to breathe, the air escaping your lungs faster than you can take the chance to gasp for air. 

“You’re just so big,” you whimper out, trying to keep yourself from collapsing back against him as your legs start to feel like jello. 

Jack gives you a light scoff, “Good thing you’re being a good girl, and takin’ me so well, huh?” He keeps the pace steady, if not a bit quicker. Switching up the tempo to keep you on your toes and eager for him. 

“Mhm!” You can feel your orgasm building, that all too familiar pressure in your lower tummy bubbling over. “Fuck- fuck I’m gonna cum-”

It’s like a switch flips in his brain, kicking him into high gear as he spins you around to face him. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close as he lifts one of your legs around his waist. 

“Yeah, pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?” He asks you through a sloppy kiss, one that smears what’s left of your lip gloss. 

You feel like you’re about to implode, too tense and too loose all at once. Your hands find purchase on his clothed chest and the curls at the base of his neck, as he continues his loving assault on your body and senses. Jack is everywhere, and you’d never want it to be different. 

He watches as you finally let go, shivering your way through your orgasm as you cum on his thick cock. Your breath catches as he kisses you slowly, working his cock in and out of your gushing pussy still chasing his own release. 

“Fuck- you ruin me baby,” He groans into your kiss swollen lips, giving you a few more sloppy thrusts before burying himself as deep as possible. His own breathing shallow as he spills his load deep into your cunt, right where it belongs. 

Blinking slowly, you return to your body. Jack looks down at you, capturing your lips in one last sweet kiss as he gently pulls out of you. Your body shudders at the now empty feeling, “You with me, Baby?”

His thumbs stroke your cheeks, gentle and loving as you just stare at him a little dazed. You manage a soft hum, and he begins the process of putting you back together for the public. 

You cringed a bit as he helped you pull the pants of your scrubs back up, at least they were dark… right? You’d change into your backups as soon as you found the courge to leave the storage room. Then there was your hair which Jack lovingly braided as quickly as he could, before fixing himself the best he could

“Everyone’s totally gonna know… Ugh…”  you leaned your head against his chest, sighing at the thought of John or Ellis questioning where you two were for the past 15 minutes. 

“You look fine, besides who cares?” He questioned, “Do you know how many times I’ve heard the same story from other departments,” 

“Yeah but this is us,” you gave him a deadpan expression, as he reached behind you so that he could grab your stethoscope and badge reel from one of the many shelves behind you. 

He gave you a nonchalant shrug, and one last kiss on the forehead. “You ready to go get ‘em tiger?”

“You’re so dead whe we get home, it’s not even funny Jack Abbot!” 

“We still have about two more hours, so I think I’m safe, Princess.” 

mercvry-glow 2025

[writeriguess]

hi.. if you arent busy can you please do a small writing of how husband katsuki would react to reader going into labor? thank you :)

Fireworks and Heartbeats

The first contraction hits like a gunshot at dawn. You wince, gripping the edge of the couch, your breath catching in your throat. The TV hums in the background, some mindless show playing, but the moment your body seizes up, everything else fades into static.

Katsuki, slouched beside you with one arm thrown lazily over the back of the couch, is mid-chew on a protein bar when he notices. His red eyes narrow instantly, scanning your face with that sharp, battle-honed instinct of his.

"The hell was that?" His voice is rough, edged with suspicion.

You exhale shakily. "I think… that was a contraction."

There's a second of silence. A dangerous, eerily calm second where his entire body goes completely still. Then—

"SHIT."

Bakugo launches off the couch so fast the cushions nearly flip. His protein bar goes flying, forgotten as he rounds on you like a man ready to go to war.

"How bad is it? Can you stand? We gotta—fuck, wait, where's the bag? Where’s the—WHERE'S MY PHONE?"

You can't help but laugh, even as another contraction rolls through you, making you groan. "Babe. Breathe."

"I'm breathing!" he snaps, though his movements are anything but calm. He's darting from one end of the living room to the other, yanking open drawers, patting his pockets, looking everywhere except for the one place his phone actually is—on the damn coffee table.

You watch as he turns over a couch cushion in sheer desperation. "Katsuki—"

"WHERE THE FUCK DID I PUT IT?!"

You sigh and pick up his phone with an exaggerated wave. "Here."

He whips around, eyes locking on the device like it's an enemy. He snatches it from your hand and immediately starts dialing. "I'm callin’ the hospital! We gotta—SHIT, the bag! Where’s the fucking bag?!"

"It’s by the door," you say, amused despite the growing pain.

He’s already bolting toward it. "RIGHT, right, I knew that!" He slings the bag over his shoulder like it weighs nothing. "Okay, okay, let’s go! Get your ass up—wait, do you need me to carry you?"

You glare at him. "I can walk, Katsuki."

"Not if it makes it worse, dumbass!" He’s already reaching for you, practically vibrating with tension.

"I'm fine," you insist, though the next contraction makes you grip his wrist for support. His free hand immediately settles on your back, warm and steady, his fingers twitching as if he’s fighting the urge to just scoop you up and bulldoze through walls to the hospital.

His voice lowers, rough but softer now. "I gotcha. Just lean on me, alright?"

You nod, letting him guide you toward the door. He’s mumbling under his breath, every other word a curse, but beneath all that brashness, his grip on you is careful, precise. His entire world has narrowed down to getting you to the hospital, to making sure you’re safe.

By the time he’s got you in the car, he’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered. The moment your breath hitches in pain, he snarls, "Fucking MOVE!" at a car that’s barely in his way.

"Katsuki, don’t get arrested before we even get there."

"If these extras don’t move their asses, I swear—"

"Katsuki!"

He growls, muscles tight with frustration, but keeps driving, one hand gripping the wheel while the other reaches over, fingers squeezing yours tightly. He doesn’t let go, not even when your contractions get worse, not even when your nails dig into his skin.

"You hold on," he mutters, jaw clenched so tight it could crack. "Almost there, baby. Almost there."

And as frantic as he is, as loud and explosive as he always will be—his grip in yours stays firm, unwavering. Katsuki Bakugo doesn’t fear battle. But as you groan in pain beside him, he realizes there is one fight he can’t punch his way through.

He can only hold your hand, grit his teeth, and make damn sure you get to the finish line.

[quarterlifekitty]

Read buttermilk today and now @ceilidho got me on that babysitter grindset… but what if I freaked it up a little.

cw: age gap (reader is around 21 and Soap is like 29ish), something sorta flirting with/on the edge of fauxcest due to a sibling-like bond, so I’m gonna tag it as such just in case.

Before Johnny enlisted, he’d only ever had one paying job.

Taking care of you.

About eight years your senior, your mom decided to go back to working when you were around 4 and he was on the cusp of 13. And for 5 years (an eternity to a kid like you) he was your best friend in the world. Would get out of school, walk to the elementary school to get you, bring you home, and hang out until whenever your parents got off of work.

And the boy was devoted. Didn’t mind that he had to put off hanging with his friends till the weekend. Didn’t mind making your snacks or watching silly kids movies. Didn’t mind when you asked him to play pretend veterinarian with you, and he had to lay down and act like a really sick horse. And you loved him.

The first time your parents took you on a vacation and you realized he wouldn’t be there? You were so mad. As mad as a 4 year old can be.

You’re embarrassed when you cry at the news that he’s enlisting— at age 10 you’re not supposed to cry anymore, you’re a big girl. He hugs you so tight, early in the morning before he has to go.

His folks move during his first tour. There isn’t an anchor to bring him back to you for a very long time. Over a decade, as it turns out.

He’s getting ready to go on leave when he gets a call— his mum buzzing with some kind of gossip as usual.

“You’ll never guess who I saw down at Sainsbury’s—“

Your university happens to be in the town his family moved to. He has his own place now of course, but he likes to keep close to them.

His first night back and his mum is beside herself— trying to get the place nice, because you’re joining them for dinner. Johnny never even considers that when you come to the door, you’re not the little girl he left tearing up on her parents porch.

He has to remember to close his mouth at the sight of you. His dad offers you a beer for fuck’s sake. He’s amazed at how much has changed— but also, how much is the same. The curve of your nose, and bubble of your laughter, the way your eyes widen with interest.

You happen to be on break right now. So of course, he ends up unwittingly spending all of his leave with you. You were always a funny kid— you’re a lot funnier now that you can swear. And you were always cute but now you’re so… pretty.

And he is not a fucking fan of the kind of attention it gets you. The way guys look at you when you’re sitting alone, waiting for him at a coffee shop. How your phone goes off at least once every 20 minutes, and it’s almost always ‘this guy from your class’. He tells himself that it’s just because he was responsible for you for so long— that he’s just having trouble shaking that off. He just remembers when you were so innocent— he doesn’t wanna see you get chewed up and spit out by college boys.

And he keeps finding himself falling into old patterns. Making you stay still so he can wipe your mouth after having a bit of a messy danish. Holding your hand tight when you’re in a busy place, crossing any streets. Having you tell him what you want so he can order things for you. Picking you up so he can hear you giggle and tell him to put you down.

He tells himself that when he touches himself later that it’s just because being away for work has left him touch starved and sensitive. It’s only natural to get turned on by a pretty girl who leans into him… especially when you get along so famously.

(Even though he remembers playing I spy while he held your hand and walked you home from school, your little backpack slung over his shoulder, even though he had his own to carry. )

Before he knows it, it’s his last night at home, ending it off with another of his mum’s dinners. At the table you casually mention the graduate schools you’re thinking of going to— some close by, some not. He almost chokes when you mention that there’s a really nice school in Canada you were considering.

That’s when he knows he’s fucked. Because he doesn’t think of that as you getting on with your life. Of a girl getting her education. He thinks of that as losing you, and after the bliss of the past couple of weeks he’s had with you, he’s not sure he’ll take being separated from you nearly as long as he did the last time. Not to mention all of the guys at your school trying to get their hands on you.

So he’s gonna have to find a way to get you too invested to travel far. And figure out how to protect you from those assholes when he’s not around.

Making you a part of his family and putting his ring on your finger should be enough, right?

[issybee06]

Omg. i love your acc so much. i ADORE ur writing for these thragg fics, they are my LIFEBLOOD through this invincible s4 drought. i need this sm, PLS MAKE MORE!!!! you’re an incredible writer and i hope you have a wonderful day!!! (ps. pls make romantic hcs :)! )

For the good of the empire!

Thragg x reader

Headcanons!

Legs locked around his slutty hips one of us is getting pregnant and my money is on him HAHAHAGAGAGAGSHSAGSEHTREESEHKTF

The hair?! The body?! I'm no better than a man because DAMNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

yes I know he's a bad person but In my world everyone is a pony and they all eat rainbows and poop butterflies lock me away and put me in the fun house I don't care

Thank you everyone for the support🫶🫶🫶

…………………………………………………………………………….

So, we can go two very different ways.

Human Reader orrrrrr Viltrumite Reader

I give you both!

Human reader!

Human reader meets Thragg through Mark, whether it be because she’s a hero or a close friend, he’s the reason they meet.

And you and Mark are great friends, like glued at the hip but then this 6’10 hottest man alive walks in and you’re like “Mark…is your long lost scary space uncle single?”

He’s like, “…my what…?”

You’re like, “never mind…I’ll ask him.”

Flirting with Thragg, if you’re the one making the first moves, is like nails on a chalkboard. He doesn’t get it, won’t understand you want to up in bones. He just kinda…stares? Questions everything until “oh! You wish to procreate, next time just say that.”

If he’s the one making the first moves, but you’re not interested, oh boy. He’s like a cat, I’m telling you, bringing presents he thinks you would like but really…no, not really.

Shows up at your house, carrying the head of someone or something that he killed, “I brought you…a gift.”

When you don’t like it, he’s angry. Confused. Offended.

He goes to Kregg, Lucan…Mark, asking what human women like. Mark tells his(while praying Thragg doesn’t want to kill him) what you like.

Now, he’s bringing you flowers(an evergreen tree), food you liked, jewelry. You were confused at first, but slowly you two warmed up to eachother.

You guys started dating after he got you a pet. That was it for you.

Whether it’s you or him pursuing first, the first time you guys are going at it is the same.

“D-do you have a condom?”

“…what the fuck is a condom?”

“…”

Your first time is veryyyyy soft, he thinks he might break you, until you’re telling him to fuck you like he means it then he’s smirking and you’re in for a treat.

You gotta, no matter what, explain a lot of earths culture to him.

What to say, how to react(not trying to kill someone for cutting in line at coffee), what to wear because wearing that Viltrumite suit in public was a no no.

You guys go out to eat a lot, you got your arms wrapped around his meaty bicep while he stands there stiffly. You drag him places, he follows reluctantly, but he enjoys you. He flys you to different countries, not because he wants to go, but because he loveessss seeing your eyes light up as he presents a new place to you.

He’s rough around the edges, but he’s good at making you blush and smile.

Superrrrrr bad at dating a first, but once he gets the idea he’s fantastic. It’s his new mission, to make you happy, and Thragg always completes his missions.

If you guys do end up continuing your relationship, he moves in with you. You veto moving to the moon with him as soon as he asked, having sex up there though…👀

He’s like a house husband, he can’t really get a job(he refused actually, saying he was above it) so he stays in your apartment just hanging out.

You guys never really get married…? He thinks you’ve been married since the first time you guys had sex, but like, you don’t? You aren’t his wife you’re his girlfriend, but to him you’re his mate. You’ve gotta explain that to him too.

If and when you guys have kids(he’s gonna be begging you know this) he now has something to do at home. He asked for it, now he’s gotta watch the baby. He never expected to have to raise the kids he begged for, he thought you would, but you are too head strong and said, “nope, you asked for this thing so now you’ve gotta watch it.”

He enjoys you, his little head strong human wife, more so than he actually thought he would. You make him smile, no ones ever been able to do that. You bring enjoyment to his life, nothing bores him. 5000+ years of living and you, his little human, is the highlight of it.

Viltrumite reader!

Very different relationship than human reader.

You two have known each other for a long time, gone on a few missions together and now he’s at that age where he needs a mate.

Now now, not just any mate. You.

You’re the best choice for him, he thinks, you’re strong and capable and you’d be his perfect little mate. He’s hard at the idea that you can easily kick his ass, knowing that all the children you might have would be extremely powerful.

He likes that. Oh, he likes that a lot…

He doesn’t play around it, just goes up to you and basically says, “hey, you and I are gonna be mated.”

And you’re like, “…okay?”

He might do the cat thing with you, giving you dead things as gifts, valuables from his conquests, and you respond with a smile.

You like him like that, covered in blood so fresh that he probably came straight from the battlefield to your house. Makes you feel wanted by him, you are wanted by him.

I’m thinking he’s not the Grand Regent yet, he’s young and popular and pretty and so very proud to have you as his pretty scary mate. Total power couple.

When he becomes Grand Regent, he’s offered move wives and he’s offended.

“I have a mate.”

“M-my lord, you should have a multitude of women at your dispos—“

“I have a mate.”

If he didn’t want you he wouldn’t have chosen you, he would have taken the other women, but he wants you.

He has forever to spend with you, he wanted that and now he has that.

Yes I love him, now look at young Thragg with his fluffy hair.

Ugh, creaming

[welostheplot]

── 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 ᨒ↟☾.࿔*:･ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: vampire!ellie williams / werewolf!abby anderson / reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you didn’t expect much when your mom sent you to jackson to stay with your dad. but something about this place is off — and you’ve only just arrived.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: no major warnings needed here! just regular old world building introductory stuff.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.4k

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: i'm new to this whole publishing fics on tumblr thing but this idea came to me after rewatching all the twilight movies for like the billionth time and i knew i had to bring it to life. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as im going to enjoy writing it!

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄: "crossing"

THE PLANE LANDING HAD BEEN ROUGHER THAN IT SHOULD’VE BEEN.

if your mom had been there, you would’ve joked with her about how it was like even the sky wanted nothing to do with the place. the runway was cracked and frostbitten, and the first sight of the vast mountains behind it made your breath catch. you found your dad waiting by his cop car after you finally collected your luggage from baggage claim and stepped outside to the curbside pickup area, arms crossed over his jacket like he wasn’t sure what to say.

he didn’t hug you or even say hello. just jerked his chin in a greeting and asked, “you hungry?”

you said yeah, even though you weren’t.

the diner had smelled like burnt coffee and some teenage waitress poured you both a cup without being asked. you ordered something with eggs and didn’t eat it, entertaining stilted conversation with your dad about the weather. and roadkill. and these mysterious murders that had been popping up in nearby towns, putting his whole office on edge.

now, inside your new room, you sat on the bed and tried not to think about the fact that he hadn’t asked anything about school. or therapy. or how long you planned on staying.

you got the sense he was still working up to it.

you twisted a loose thread on the duvet (“purple. your favorite,” your dad had said — you didn’t have the heart to tell him it had changed to blue approximately four years ago) and tried to breathe through the dust in the air.

a knock on the door frame broke the quiet and you looked up to see him standing there, holding a stack of towels and a box of saltines.

you raised a brow.

he shrugged. “dinner won’t be ready for a while. and you barely touched your breakfast burrito earlier.”

you took the box.

“thanks,” you said.

he lingered in the doorway a second too long. like he wanted to say something. like he almost did.

then turned and walked away.

THE HOUSE CREAKED AT NIGHT.

not in a cozy, “it has personality” kind of way. no, these were the kind of noises that made your skin itch. you lay in bed that first night, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how long it’d take for this place to feel real. or maybe not real. just… normal. your phone screen burned your eyes in the dark of the room and your text inbox was void of any new messages. you scrolled through it anyway.

in the morning, your dad left a note on the counter: back by 4. grocery money in drawer. don’t forget to eat.

you made toast. burned the first slice. turned the radio on just to hear something human while the second cooked in the toaster. humming distantly along to the familiar tune crackling through the speakers, you stood in the small kitchen and wished the space felt familiar too.

your mom said this would be good. her new boyfriend had old money and a young soul that had immediately captivated her, and their plans of roadtripping around the country didn’t exactly provide the stability or consistency a teenager looking to graduate high school would need.

but jackson felt different than how it had when you’d visited as a kid.

it was quiet, but not in a peaceful way. the silence was tense. and the trees—there were so many fucking trees, covering the mountains and making the natural ‘walls’ that protected the valley feel so much grander, despite the fact that you were definitely much taller than you had been the last time you were here.

your dad had warned you not to wander too far when he’d caught you gazing at them through the window of the passenger seat.

“it’s not like other woods,” he’d said.

you asked what that meant.

he just replied, “stay near the paths.”

THE TRUCK HAD BEEN A WELCOME SURPRISE.

your dad said it so casually, like he was just handing you another box of saltines to hold you over till lunch and not a literal vehicle.

“someone owed me a favor,” he muttered, nodding toward the driveway.

you stepped outside, expecting something functional. you did not anticipate the massive, rust-colored tank parked at the curb. the thing looked like it had been built during the cold war and maybe won it.

the paint was chipped. the tires looked new-ish. and the driver's door groaned in protest when you pulled it open.

“does it work?” you asked.

“like a dream,” said a voice behind you, unfamiliar, low, and a little amused.

you turned and came face to face with a girl with hulking shoulders and sun-kissed confidence that made you feel like you’d never stepped outside in your life. she was in a worn flannel, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and she smelled faintly of motor oil.

“abby,” she said, sticking out a hand. “i fixed it up for you.”

you shook it. a vein in her forearm bulged with her firm grip, and your stomach swooped. “thanks,” you said. “it’s… big.”

she grinned. “what else are childhood friends for?”

your dad raised an eyebrow from the porch but didn’t say anything.

THE LOUD RUMBLE OF THE ENGINE WOULD TAKE SOME GETTING USED TO.

but you were grateful it got you where you needed to go.

that afternoon, it got you to the gas station at the edge of town. the only one for miles, according to abby, who’d shown up again that morning with an excuse about how she was “just checking the alignment.”

you weren’t complaining.

she’d offered to ride with you for the first outing — “just in case the brakes do something stupid,” she’d said — and now she was outside the truck, sleeves rolled up again showing off those stupidly large muscles, pumping your gas while you sat in the driver’s seat trying not to stare.

she glanced through the window and caught you watching. smirked.

you looked away with hot cheeks and cranked the window down a few inches.

“you want anything?” she asked, nodding toward the station’s small convenience store.

“i’m good,” you said. then hesitated, thinking about your father’s abysmal grocery haul from the other day (grocery shopping for another person in the house was clearly going to take him some getting used to). “maybe just… something cold? and some chips. i’m not picky.”

“on it.”

you watched her jog toward the store. cracked your knuckles. adjusted the rearview mirror. tried not to look like you were spiraling over the girl you apparently used to make mud pies with in your backyard when you were three.

and then —

movement.

you turned your head toward it. across the lot, leaning against a dusty black SUV parked under the shade of a tilted pine, stood a cluster of people you hadn’t noticed, probably because you’d been too busy ogling your new… friend.

five of them.

they weren’t looking at you, but somehow, you felt seen anyway.

your eyes caught on one in particular.

freckled. lean. and pale.

your chest tightened.

you blinked and there was abby again, approaching with a bag of lays and a bottle of gatorade clutched in one large hand and a twizzler hanging from her mouth.

“you good?” she asked.

you nodded too fast.

“yeah,” you said. “just… thought i saw someone.”

she followed your gaze.

the SUV was still there. the people weren’t.

must’ve gone into the convenience store, you supposed.

“who?”

you shook your head. “never mind.”

but your eyes lingered on the empty space where they’d stood.

SOME THINGS DIDN’T FEEL LIKE COINCIDENCE.

you didn’t believe in fate. you barely believed in astrology. but there was something about jackson that scratched at the edges of your instincts. you didn’t have any proof quite yet, just the weight of it. that gnawing, too-aware feeling you couldn’t shake.

your dad’s unease. the headlines in the newspaper. the eerie feeling you got looking at the woods.

and now them. the group at the gas station. the way the freckled one had looked without looking at you.

the way you’d felt it.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. that starting over meant letting things be what they were, not chasing after the weirdness or wondering what wasn’t being said.

but ever since you crossed the border into this town, it felt like you were being met with a decision of whether to engage in a story much bigger than you.

and you hadn’t realized you were already standing right at the threshold.

this work is mine. please don’t repost, copy, or publish elsewhere without permission. thank you!

[heich0e]

"Everybody hates me."

You pause after he says it, and then set your coffee cup down on the kitchen counter with a little clink! It's half-drained now, and mostly room temperature, but you're savouring the last few mouthfuls.

"Can you blame them?"

Sukuna looks up from his iPad where he's seated at the other side of the counter, his own empty coffee cup set off to the side, and he pouts. "Doesn't it bother you that the entire world hates your loving husband?"

You tip your head back and laugh, a wide smile on your face. The video Sukuna had been watching on his tablet is still playing so you stretch across the marble counter and tap the screen to pause it, lingering near him after the room goes silent.

He watches you curiously, but doesn't say anything, his expression softening.

"It doesn't bother me," you tell him quietly, craning up on your tiptoes to bridge that last little gap between you and press a soft kiss to his lips. He reciprocates in kind, dipping towards you so you don't have to stretch quite as far, making it easier for you the way he does most things: quiet and unspoken in his thoughtfulness, sweet like the coffee he makes you every morning that you like to savour.

When you finally pull away, Sukuna is watching you with that same inquisitive expression, like he's trying to figure you out without needing to ask.

"Besides, the more people who hate the guy you play on TV, the less competition I have for the affection of my loving husband," you use his own words in your wry explanation, smiling to yourself as your little jibe.

Sukuna clicks his tongue as he pushes himself up from his seat at the counter, coming around to your side in only a few steps. He uses his much larger frame to bully you into the corner where the countertop bends in an L shape, pinning you in place with one hand gripping the edge of the marble at either side of your waist. He peers down at you with a smug look on his face, and it makes you take pause—the expression a little too similar to the monster he plays on TV to put you at ease.

"Too bad for you, then," he says, dipping down to brush his nose against yours. He's so close you can only tell he's smiling because of the way his cheeks lift. "I said they hate me. Plenty of them still want to fuck me, though."

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 15

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“Seems like you're declaring war on me,” Bucky said, his voice steady but his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Does it sound like that? Forgive me.” Steve set the golf club down, a smirk playing on his lips. “What I meant is, we have to be aware of everything. We're this close to winning.”

“I agree.” Bucky replied, his expression calm, though his mind churned with unspoken thoughts.

“This is why I trust you.” Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “Remember, we're playing in the highest league now.”

Steve paused before adding casually, “By the way, my son wants to visit Nate. Is that okay with you?”

“I'll let my wife and Nate know,” Bucky responded, his voice neutral, though he felt a flicker of unease.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

When Bucky got home, he saw you sitting cross-legged on the floor with Nate, working on a puzzle together. You both seemed relaxed, unaware of the weight he carried from the conversation with Steve. He walked over, his movements deliberate, and knelt beside Nate.

“Nate, buddy, can you go to your room for a bit? I need to talk to your aunt,” Bucky said gently, placing a hand on Nate’s shoulder.

Nate, always obedient, nodded. “Okay, Uncle Bucky,” he said before scooping up a few puzzle pieces and heading inside.

Once it was just the two of you, you glanced at Bucky and noticed his exhausted expression. He looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“What? Did something worse just hit you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky took a breath, his jaw tightening. “Did you just involve Ian?” His tone was calm, but his eyes betrayed his frustration.

You widened your eyes, momentarily caught off guard by the question. That single look was enough for him to sigh deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I…” His hands clenched into fists momentarily. He wanted to be angry, knowing full well this would put you on Steve’s radar.

“Just… tell Ian to slow down,” Bucky muttered, clearly uneasy.

“I can’t,” you said softly but firmly. “The way Ian works is far more efficient than anything I could do.”

Bucky rubbed his temples, his frustration mounting. “Then I hope God protects him.”

“Bucky…” you stepped closer, your voice serious. “Be honest with me. Is he in danger?”

Bucky looked down, his hands braced on the counter, his shoulders tense. “Steve just gave me a warning. It won’t matter to him if there’s blood on his hands.”

Your heart dropped. ‘Fuck,’ you thought as panic began to bubble inside. You immediately grabbed your phone and dialed Ian, but there was no answer. Frustration and fear mingled in your chest as you quickly texted him instead: Be careful. Eyes and ears everywhere.

You glanced at Bucky, your stomach twisting. “By the way, the Rogers twins want to come here to play with Nate,” Bucky added as if it were a casual comment, though his voice carried an edge.

“You allowed that?” you asked, the disbelief evident in your tone.

The mention of the twins unsettled you. Your mind flashed back to watching The Shining in secret with Tim, and how the twins in that movie had always given you the creeps. That eerie feeling wasn’t just from the film anymore—it was rooted in real life. You had learned the truth: William and Charles, Steve's sons, had a reputation for bullying other students. The thought of them around Nate made your skin crawl.

Would they be a good influence on Nate? You highly doubted it.

Bucky gave a tired shrug. “I can’t say no to the future president, right?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, knowing there was little you could do to stop it. But one thing was clear—you would be keeping a very close eye on them when they came to visit.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The twins arrived at the house, their faces lit up with matching grins, excitement practically radiating off them. Nate, catching sight of them, bolted to the door, his small body bouncing with joy.

"William! Charles!" Nate called out, bouncing on his toes as he welcomed them in. His innocent joy was palpable—he was simply happy to have people he knew coming to play with him.

"Hey, buddy," William said, ruffling Nate’s hair as they walked inside.

After a brief exchange, they settled in front of the game console, and soon, the twins had chosen a violent shooter game. The screen flickered with gunfire and explosions, the sound effects jarring in the otherwise quiet room. Nate, seated between them, initially watched in awe but quickly became uncomfortable.

His tiny hands shot up to cover his eyes, and he flinched with every loud noise, his body tense as he pressed himself into the couch. He covered his ears, trying to block out the unsettling sounds, but he didn’t say a word, not wanting to ruin the moment.

You watched from a distance, trying not to be the nosy adult. You wanted to give them space, but seeing Nate’s frightened reaction twisted something in your gut. Likewise, you couldn’t stand by anymore. Walking over to the boys, you kept your tone polite, but firm.

“Guys,” you said, your voice cutting through the sounds of the game, “is there another game that’s not as scary? Look, Nate’s getting scared.”

William glanced down at Nate, who was huddled close to him. “Oh, why didn’t you say something, buddy?” he said, patting Nate’s shoulder as if that would fix everything.

Charles sighed and turned off the violent game, switching to something more child-friendly. "Here, we’ve got a game for you, Nate." He scrolled through the options and selected a bright, colorful one with cartoon rabbits running a restaurant.

The second the screen changed, Nate’s face lit up. “Wow!” he exclaimed, his fear dissolving as he leaned forward, eager to play. The teenage boys, now seemingly patient, guided him through the simple controls, explaining how to serve food to the cartoon animals. You felt a wave of relief. Maybe—just maybe—the twins weren’t as bad as you had feared.

Later, the boys decided to go swimming. You sat on a poolside chair, keeping a close eye on Nate. He was wearing a floatie around his small frame, happily splashing in the shallow end while William and Charles horsed around further away.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed. It was Ian. "H...ell...o"

You stood up, checking the signal, which was terrible. Frowning, you moved toward the balcony. The pool was indoors, so you stepped outside, hoping for better reception.

“I just got your text,” Ian said when the call finally connected. His voice was rough, but you could hear his smirk through the line. “You know this isn’t going to stop me.”

“I’m serious, Ian,” you replied, leaning against the balcony rail. “Bucky told me directly. You’re in danger.”

A pause, and then Ian’s voice, low and almost teasing, came through. “Hmm… Guess where I am right now?”

You sighed, trying to play along. “London? Since you went home, right?”

“Nope. Paris. And I’ve found something—something lethal enough to kill Steve,” Ian said, his tone dark with implication.

Paris? You froze. Was this related to Hazel? Your heart pounded with a new surge of anxiety. “Ian, don’t—”

But before you could finish, you heard it. A splash—loud, frantic. You turned around, the blood draining from your face. In the water, you saw a small hand desperately reaching out, the floatie floating uselessly nearby. It was Nate.

Panic gripped you like a vice. “Nate!” you screamed, dropping your phone as you sprinted back inside.

Without hesitation, you dove into the pool, your body hitting the cold water like a shock to your system. Your hands reached for him, pulling Nate’s tiny, trembling body to the surface. His arms latched around your neck in a vice grip, coughing and sputtering as you lifted him from the water.

He gasped, burying his face against your shoulder, his small body shaking as he clung to you. “He…he can’t swim!” you snapped at the twins, your voice filled with raw anger.

William and Charles stood there on the edge of the pool, unfazed. “That’s why we were teaching him,” they answered in unison, their tone almost dismissive.

Nate let out a pained cough, his voice weak. “My nose hurts…” he whimpered, rubbing his face against your neck.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, vulnerable and hurt. Anger surged through you like a tidal wave, and you glared at the twins. You remembered that they both just watched while Nate was drowning. Without raising your voice, you pointed to the door, your finger shaking with fury. “Get out. Now.”

The command echoed in the room, sharp and unforgiving. William and Charles flinched, startled by the intensity in your voice. Without a word, they quickly grabbed their things, shooting one last glance at each other before rushing out the door.

You stayed in the pool, holding Nate close, your teeth gritted in anger and your heart still pounding. You knew then—those boys were never going to be allowed near Nate again. Not after this.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The twins walked into the Roger household, their shoulders slumped, clearly sensing the storm waiting for them. Behind them, Peggy followed with a stern but composed expression. As they stepped further into the room, the tension was palpable—Steve stood there, arms crossed, his face hard as stone. He had heard everything from you, and his sons could feel his fury even before he said a word.

William and Charles instinctively moved closer to Peggy, seeking the safety of her presence as if she could shield them from the inevitable.

Peggy, sensing the mounting tension, stepped forward slightly, her voice calm but firm. “Steve, calm down. I will talk to them.”

Steve let out a frustrated sigh, his clenched jaw releasing only slightly. “I’m not going to yell,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I need to say something.”

He fixed his cold gaze on his sons. “Both of you will be homeschooled from now on.”

The twins’ faces fell in disbelief. “Dad, no!” William blurted, and Charles’ mouth hung open, too stunned to speak.

“I know,” Steve said, his voice quieter now, but there was no softness in it. “I know the main reason for your behavior is because your mother and I have been too busy for you. We never spent time together as a family.” His arms unfolded, and to their surprise, he pulled them into a hug. “So, homeschooling is the best option, isn’t it?” His tone sounded almost tender, but underneath it lay a cold warning.

William and Charles glanced at each other, then back at Peggy, silently pleading for her to intervene. But she didn’t. She stood still, her lips pressed tightly together, offering no rescue.

“Good children don’t question their parents,” Steve said, his voice dropping low. “You just say, ‘Yes, father.’”

The twins swallowed hard, a sinking feeling settling in their chests. “Yes, father,” they muttered in unison, their voices barely above a whisper. It felt as though their every move would now be monitored.

Steve’s lips curled into a smile, but it wasn’t warm—it was the smile of a man in control. “Good. Now, go back to your rooms.”

The boys moved quietly, retreating upstairs, the weight of Steve’s words heavy on their shoulders.

Once they were out of sight, Steve’s smile faded. He turned toward Peggy, his tone biting. “This is why I never wanted to send them to boarding school in the first place. They needed parental guidance, not strict school rules.”

Peggy’s eyes narrowed, a tired look crossing her face. “Don’t start again, Steve. That decision was made by my father.”

Steve’s expression darkened at the mention of her father. His voice dripped with bitterness. “Oh yeah, him. I almost forgot. I’m glad he’s dead.”

Peggy’s face tensed, a flare of anger sparking in her eyes. “When will you stop badmouthing my father?”

Steve’s cold stare met hers. “Never.”

Steve had lived a life bound by duty, his role in the military shaping every part of him. He was a good soldier—respected, disciplined, and obedient. But despite his loyalty, promotions came slowly. His lack of a powerful family background meant he was always overlooked by those with better connections. Essentially, Steve was an orphan—without anyone to vouch for him, he was left behind.

He knew how the system worked. If you didn’t have the right name, the right family, there was always a price to pay. And Steve had paid it, doing the dirty work of his superiors without question, sacrificing his principles just to keep his place. The worst part of it all was that his commanding officer, General Carter, was his father-in-law.

Every step of his career, Steve had been a puppet for the man who held both his professional and personal life in his hands. The weight of it bore down on him every day.

“Good soldiers don’t ask why,” General Carter always said this to him. “They just say, ‘Yes, sir.’”

"Yes, sir." Steve answer it like he's a robot.

At some point, Steve had everything he’d ever thought he wanted—marriage, a steady career, money, and status. On paper, he should have been happy. But he wasn’t. His life felt dull, empty, like the spark had been drained from it.

The day he realized the truth hit him like a punch in the gut. He wasn’t his own man—he was nothing more than a tool for his father-in-law, a puppet dancing to someone else’s tune.

That was the moment he had enough. The frustration, the years of silently obeying, simmered into anger. He wanted to be the one in control. He was tired of taking orders—he wanted to be the one giving them.

Steve’s life had been dull for years, a constant routine of military duties, politics, and the weight of expectations. Until the day he met Hazel. She was much younger than him—vibrant, full of life—and he was supposed to give her advice, to help steer her back home. Julius and Caroline had asked him to help their daughter stop running away. But when Steve sat with Hazel and listened to her story, something shifted. Her reasons for running, the pressures she felt—her life mirrored his own struggles. For the first time in years, he felt empathy.

He told her, quietly, “If you ever need someone to talk to, you can find me.”

And from there, things changed. They grew closer, and eventually, more intimate. He knew it was wrong—cheating on his family, betraying his friends—but for the first time, Steve felt alive again. The numbness of his life vanished in her presence, replaced by something that burned, something real. And then came Nate, the baby born out of that connection, out of a love he hadn’t felt in years.

Steve’s thoughts snapped back to the present. His jaw clenched tightly as he faced Peggy. “Did you tell them to hurt Nate?”

Peggy stood her ground, her face a mix of frustration and cold calculation. “No,” she said flatly. “But they’re smart enough to figure out why their father cares so much about that kid, and why he’s always…” She hesitated, her lips curling into a thin smile. “Spending time with his little girlfriend. Maybe they’re just releasing their anger.”

Steve’s fists tightened until his knuckles turned white. “When I get into the White House, you won’t be coming with me.”

Peggy’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t flinch. “And what then?” she said with a mocking tilt to her voice. “You think you’re going to put that girl in my place? Have you forgotten who you are? You were a beggar, crawling to my father for help.”

Steve’s eyes darkened, a dangerous calm settling over him. “And this beggar has crawled his way to victory,” he said slowly, his voice low but filled with menace. “You can act high and mighty because of me. Don’t forget that I can take it all away from you.” He stepped closer, his words laced with venom. “Remember how your family got their business permits? How they were saved from corruption charges and tax evasion? That was because of me.”

Peggy let out a scoff, her eyes filled with disdain. “You think you’re a king now?” She crossed her arms, shaking her head. “I actually pity her, you know. Because one day, she’ll feel exactly what I felt. You’ll never be satisfied, Steve. You’ll never have enough.”

She turned to leave, her hand on the door. Before stepping out, Peggy glanced back at him, her eyes filled with cold certainty. “Never.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You sat beside Nate, your heart heavy as you watched his small chest rise and fall, his face flushed with fever. The doctor had just left, handing you a bottle of medicine. "Make sure he drinks this, and let him rest completely," he’d said before exchanging a few quiet words with Bucky and leaving the apartment.

Nate’s red, feverish face made your heart ache. He had been through so much in just a few hours. You gently wiped a damp cloth over his forehead as Bucky sat beside you, silent and tense.

"Never, ever let Nate be alone with them again," you said, your voice firm.

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. "I agree. And I’m sorry. I never thought they’d pull something like that."

“Don’t underestimate underage kids,” you warned, your voice sharp. “There are so many cases where perpetrators can’t be jailed because they’re underage.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. "Noted. I won’t forget that."

A brief silence passed, then you asked, “Have you called Hazel?”

“I tried, but I couldn’t reach her. I called her assistant, though.”

You nodded, your mind still spinning. The memory of Nate sinking beneath the water haunted you, but there was something else gnawing at you—you hadn’t finished your conversation with Ian.

Excusing yourself, you left the room and grabbed your phone, your stomach dropping when you noticed the cracked screen from when you’d dropped it before diving into the pool.

You dialed Ian’s number, your fingers trembling as you pressed it to your ear. The first ring echoed, unanswered. Your heart pounded faster. The second ring—nothing. A cold sense of unease crept into your chest. Why wasn’t he answering?

On the third try, the ringing stopped abruptly, and you exhaled in relief. “Hello? Ian?” you asked quickly, your voice tight with worry.

There was a pause on the other end, then a voice you didn’t expect—familiar, but not Ian’s.

“Y/N?”

You froze, confusion flooding your mind. “Hazel? Why are you answering Ian’s phone?” Panic started to rise inside you, the pieces beginning to fall into place. Ian had gone to Paris. He had found something—something connected to Hazel and Steve.

“He… he can’t answer it,” Hazel whispered, her voice breaking.

Your breath caught in your throat, a chill racing down your spine. “Why?” The word came out in a shaky breath.

There was a long silence before Hazel finally spoke, her words hitting you like a sledgehammer.

“Because he’s dead.”

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[bulletswithribbons]

"Fucking hate journalists"

Kai Anderson X Fem!reader // NSFW

Warnings: Kai Anderson. You guess it. Very little plot, degrading, non-con/dob-con, mentions of murder, implied masochism, rough oral sex (m receiving), gun play, slut shaming, hair pulling, let me know if I missed any.

Summary: Kai breaks in your house to teach you your place after non-stop asking him back handed questions during the interview. Events eventually take a twisted turn, you were never that much of a good girl anyways.

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: This is my first ever fic, I've read plenty and wrote smut before so I'm pretty confident. But first time publishing so here we go.

Interviewing Kai right after his campaign was not the best call at all, especially the way you kept pressing him. You knew you shouldn’t have but this is war whether he knew it or not. You took a vow on yourself to make him expose himself on his own. You’ve always been suspicious about him but you had no proof of your accusations, and calling someone out based on your gut is not really professional, especially as a journalist. 

Even though someone had to confront him about his mistakes and fear mongering, your questions only made things worse, for you at least. You pushed too hard, making him feel small in front of the media. He could sense your suspicion with every question, and it's clear you put a big dent in his ego.

You were sitting on your desk, ticking your pen as a form of anti-stress. A bit of a mess actually, papers scattered, pens strewn about. Newspapers and magazines pile up, post-it notes plastered everywhere and a coffee cup long forgotten. Your desk lamp sits on the edge, casting a soft, warm glow in the room. You've always preferred gentle lights especially when working, it helps you think.

Your thoughts spiral around making your headache worse than it already is. How could you possibly put him down, once and for all..?

A bone-chilling breeze whispers over the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You enjoy it while it lasts, a refreshing breeze in this stifling hot night. It must have come from the window behind you, although you don't remember leaving it open... It doesn't matter. Nothing does as long as you still have work to do.

Your slender fingers reach for your white blouse, unbuttoning it. Once removed, you toss it aside, letting it fall to the floor, trying to cool your temperature down. You're digging through Kai's files, searching for a gap to use against him. It wasn't your job to do so. But as a journalist of course, you'd investigate and research to report the facts and keep people up with the facts.

Perhaps it's because you take what he says in the media personally. After all, a part of you is a feminist, a part you're not ready to let go of, at least for the sake of all the women who fought for their place in this world. You see through his manipulation tactics because you've seen them before. You know a narcissist when you see one.

"Fuck!" You shout as you throw the papers off your desk.

"Hm, come on now, how dare you throw these papers. We don't want little big mouth to lose her temper." He tsks, with an overly sweet tone dripping with sarcasm.

Shocked, you recognize the voice as you feel something hard poking you in the back of your head, trailing down to your neck, detaching your hair that was hardly holding up in the messy bun. Cold, metal. Sudden realisations hit all at once, but most importantly is the outsider in your house -your room- you pissed off earlier this day holding a gun to your head.

"Mr. Anderson, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. What the fuck are you doing in my house?!" you ask, your voice rising towards the end. You're trying your best to stay calm. One mistake, and you’re dead. Young lady in her 20s corpse’ found shot in her bedroom because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“Mr. Anderson?”He repeats after you, chuckling. “They’re always respectful when fearful.” A sinful smirk tugs his lips, a look of pride in his dark cold eyes after hearing his last name coming from your trembling lips. “But I would have to politely decline your offer. I’m here to fix the mess of a situation you’ve just created for yourself. After all, I don’t want to lose voters over something so foolish. Especially this… close to the election.”

"Like hell I—or anyone with a brain that knows right from wrong—would vote for you!" You yell as you stand up from your seat.

His jaw clenches and nostrils flare, showing his annoyance. His grip on the gun tightening as he lifts the gun up to your temple, his finger twitching on the trigger. His voice, on the other hand, remains eerily sweet. “I really think you should keep your voice down.”

You swallow, your throat drier than ever. 

His voice lowers to a whisper, "I see you started learning. Good girl, I'm proud of fast learners." He takes a step towards you, his free hand stroking your chin and cheek, his touch alone giving you goosebumps. The gun rests on your temple, his eyes darting around the room.Then his focus shifts back to you. "Get on your knees," he orders and pulls his hand away from your face.

“I’m sorry?” You rush out, your eyes widening.

“Now,” he responds, his tone dripping with impatience as he jerks his gun to signal his order. “Expecting company?” He inquires looking down at your —bra only— chest.

You crouch down on your knees, his gun still pointing to your head. “No,” you respond short and clearly. For a minute, you believe you saw him smile slightly. A smile of pride.. 

“You’re such an obedient slut, aren’t you?” He pauses, “You defied me, made a fool of me in front of everyone. That doesn't go unnoticed.” He whispers, his voice pitch getting higher towards the end.

“So you’re going to shoot me? Because I hurt your little pathetic ‘man ego’? Because I’m small and vulnerable while you’re big and strong?” You retort, fake amusement hiding your fear.

“You’re smart. Most girls aren't smart. Well, that was the plan.” His smirk widens, his tone sounding even more sadistic as he slowly traces the gun barrel around your jawline— tracing it slowly with the tip of his gun. You notice him staring at your lips. “But now, seeing how big of a mouth you have, I’m going to show you what whores like you are made for.” He informs, his tone bled dry of emotion.

“The kitchen and carrying useless men’s babies. I Get it, trust.” You lash out. Although you know keeping your mouth shut is probably the better option, especially in this exact situation. But that never really happens, at least not most of the time.

Kai’s grip tightens on the gun as his rage begins to seep through his body. His other hand darts out to your face and before you even notice it, a slap lands with a sharp crack, sending a jolt of pain rippling through your cheek and leaving you on the floor. It stings, you can feel a red mark in its wake. Leaving you feeling shocked and humiliated.

You were lying down there on the floor, your body stretched out, limbs motionless. There was no sense of ease in your posture nor the room, rather a stillness that borders on tension. Even the air itself felt stifling.

Your eyes widen at the sight of his free hand darting to his zipper, pulling it down tooth by tooth. “You see, you just know how things work.” His tone becomes condescending, he pops the button and grip the waistband of his pants pulling it down until it’s enough to pull his dick out. “You have such a delicious looking mouth. I'm sure it has been put to good use for the benefit of passing by men. I'm guessing you've had a lot of fun.” He grabs the elastic of his boxers, lowering them down over his balls and pulling out his half hard cock.

You stare at him, your face frozen in shock. “You’re sick!” you shout.

“Am I now? You're the one who's been around so many men in your life. You should be used to it by now.” He grins, his hand holding his gun and moving it from your cheek to beneath your chin, pulling it up, so you were looking at him. “You should be grateful I'm bothering to even look at you.”

Although the men you’ve been with aren’t that many, you don’t bother to waste your time explaining. He believes what he wants to believe.

“Get back here,” he orders as he starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip. A bead of precum glistening from the tip.

You crawl back to him on all fours, doing as he says, and getting back on your knees, looking up at him. “Are you going to hurt me?” you ask.

He pauses for a moment before tilting his head with a small grin. “Isn’t that what you deserve? Do you want me to hurt you? Is that it? You like pain? Is that what you crave, y/n?” 

Fear… Regret.. Along with arousal.. Unwanted arousal specifically. You always knew you had a thing for troubled —twisted— men, but this is beyond fucked-up. Not to forget, he’s your worst enemy. He’s any woman’s worst enemy.  Feeling your pussy weeping in response to his tall figure towering over you is not really something to be proud of. The heat between your thighs only grew bigger every second and you knew you needed to get rid of the feeling.

He stops pumping his cock, his hand darts to your head caressing your hair with —almost— a soft touch.

“Suck,” he orders.

Your eyes widen, your tongue ready to curse at him, “I’m not going t-” 

“I won’t ask again, suck.” His hand darts up to your face squishing your cheeks painfully together. “You run your mouth a lot, might as well put it to good use. I’ll show you what exactly happens to smart mouths. Suck it like the slut you are.” His eyes burn with anger while he’s squeezing tight, his voice dripping with venom. The tip of his heavy warm cock caresses your soft lips, tempting you to bite it off.

He roughly lets go of your face, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head to the back to force your mouth open.

He forces the tip past your teeth, hatred spewing from your eyes.

“Wider,” he demands, but you want him to beg. Beg for it on his knees and switch the table, be the one with the gun ordering him around like a house pet. Getting back your dignity sounded good but not enough if you compare it with its consequence, having your life taken away from you.

You ignore his request. Making him reinforce his hold in your hair, pulling at it harder making your jaw drop so he can get deeper to your throat. The salty taste of precum evades your taste buds.

You loved the taste of him, your mouth watering with his cock inside it. But you couldn't admit it, of course you never would. It didn’t take too long for you to wrap your fingers around the base of his shaft.

Your head bobbing up and down. A breathy moan escaped him.

“Do enlighten me,” he breathes out, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Your tongue massaged the veins that swelled on his thick cock, flattened out on the thickest one underneath and flicked at the tip.

Ragged breaths escaped his mouth as you began to inch your way down, taking in more of him. The tip of his cock bumped against the back of your throat. Kai tightens his grip around your hair, and shoves your face down against his cock, making you gag around him, violently forcing you to deep throat his dick, making you gag. His length occupying your whole mouth down to your throat. You were practically choking, but he didn’t really care about it, he’s there for one reason and one reason only, teaching you to know your place.

“Fucking whore. You thought you were so smart with those non stop questions?” He pauses panting as he thrusts harder into your throat, the sound of you gagging and the wet thrusts echoing through the room. “Fucking hate journalists. Tell me… Who got the upper hand now?” 

You can't help but ignore him once again. It's not like you would give him what he wants and come undone beneath him, right? Of course you can’t answer him, after all you’re his number one hater. But even haters would give in when it’s the most mouthwatering cock a man can ever have. 

When you avoided answering, or maybe couldn’t answer since you were basically choking on his cock. His dick alone is enough to murder you if he wanted to. It only made him thrust faster, the asshole didn’t stop mouth fucking you even when he noticed your cheeks turning to a bright red and your eyes watering. Your cries turned him even more on. Kai forced his cock further into your throat, until your nose was pressed in the bush of his pubic hair.

Finally, you gave him a wobbly nod, motioning that he has the upper hand.

His head fell back to his shoulders, “That’s good to hear.. You’re learning, you’re such a good girl…Fuck…” 

You smile at the praise. Surprisingly, him being somewhat ‘sweet’ only made him ten times hotter. 

Tears keep running down your red cheeks, your cries echoing through the room.

“Just so you know, I’m enjoying this. Your whimpers are music to my ear.” He groans. “But god dammit don’t whine like a fucking bitch.” He spits at you and it lands on your cheek. Add it to the list of body fluids covering your face, along with the sweat gathering at your forehead and drool drenching your chin. 

You moan around his thick cock, sending him vibrations through his whole body. After all, you’re not putting on an act, you are enjoying it which is something you, yourself, are afraid of. But mostly you were focused on getting oxygen into your lungs. And maybe he is right, as always. Maybe there really is a part of you that enjoys the pain. That burning stinging sensation in the back of your throat. It’s scary because it’s true. 

His thrusts then began to lose their rhythm, but still managed to keep up with his pace. You knew what was coming for you. You shut your eyes, dramatically accepting your fate. Your jaw was already tired from him using you. His shaft was heated up, thrusting in and out of your red swollen lips. His hand gripped on your hair even more tightly holding you in place while his hold on the gun loosened. 

“My cock is a reward, tasting me is a blessing. Fucking thank me for letting you suck me off.” He says between breaths. 

No response, just a wet sticky cough. But afraid of his reaction, you choke out with a full mouth, “thank you.”

You could promise that you felt the disgusted face he did, “what a filthy bitch didn't your parents teach you not to talk with a full mouth?” He says while non-stop grunting like a wounded animal. That's probably what he is anyways... A wounded animal.

Few seconds later, ropes of cum spurt out from his dick into my throat, milking it after the abuse it went through when he was hammering into my mouth. He pulls out from your mouth and tug his dick back into his boxers then his pull his pants back up.

“Swallow,” he orders. “Fucking swallow my cum.” Kai grabs your face and presses his fingers into your cheek flesh.

Desperately, all you wanted to do was spit it at him, right in his face, but you don’t. You actually swallow like the obedient little slut he said you are. His seed slides down your throat, alongside your dignity and maybe your hatred towards him. 

Your fingers reach to your face drying up the tears that ran down your cheeks and the saliva running down your chin along with lines of cum. Looking up to him, you see him breathing heavily. His body working hard to get the oxygen he needs from how hard you sucked him off.

He looks at you up and down, judging you, it can't be anything good.

You expected him to do something, whether beat you up, shoot you, the least of it is spit at you telling you how much of a filthy whore you are.

But he didn't, and you were grateful for that... For him..

The taste of him still lingers at the tip of your tongue. You lick your lips unintentionally and in the most discrete way possible. Last thing you want is having him know you liked it and boost his ego, not that it could possibly needed any more promotions. But he already knows, you're sure of it. The way you sucked the life out of him like it was the best thing you laid your lips on, you can't hide that from anyone.

He turns and walks to the door, completely silent. What could he be possibly thinking about...?

He pauses at the door, turning his head to see you, he’s sweaty.

“If I see you run your mouth about any of my work, newt time will be much worse.” He promises, which you thought was kind of cute.. Promises… 

Zipping up his fly, and slipping his gun in his pants, he finally turns away and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

[1toreyouapart]

Right Through Me

***FANFICTION THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE THAT. 18+ MDNI***

Rae arrives on her former best friend’s doorstep, asking only for a place to stay while she gets back on her feet after moving across the country to escape her ex. Nick gladly opens his door to her, quickly pulling her into the fold with his friends and band mates.

Noah is just trying to survive. He wants to make it. Needs it. He has no time for anything other than the band. He’s got a point to prove. Nick’s friend challenges that and upends his entire world. She drives him crazy with her laid back, carefree ways.

Everyone can see the collision coming from a mile away, and nobody can stop it. Much less the two of them. Who will make it out in the end?

CW/TW: domestic violence, miscarriage, alcohol use, swearing, smoking, tobacco/vape use, smut, more to come as story is written.

Coffee

Bright light woke her. Blinding her. With a frustrated groan she covered her eyes with her arm. She shouldn’t have come to stay on Folio’s couch. Too much sunlight. There has to be a way to block the sunlight. Had to be.

The scent of coffee wafted towards her. Grateful she sat up, rubbing her eyes. At least Folio was awake and getting everything set.

“Nick?” She questioned, sitting up.

This was a foreign living room. Everything was weird. Had she just not noticed the layout when laying on Folio’s couch the day before? Unlikely for her. She was used to mapping everywhere out.

“Fresh coffee. I don’t know how you like it, but I have 100 ways of fixing your coffee right here.”

“Thank you. Black is fine.” She muttered, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch. Why the fuck was she here?

“Offered you my bed and I would take the couch and you tried to punch me for it.” Noah laughed, the sound of liquid filling a cup distracting her momentarily.

“I’m sorry? I don’t remember that.” Rae groaned, dropping her head into her hands.

“It was cute. You got upset because I took your keys. That idiot over there,” he gestured towards Folio passed out in the recliner. “Was already passed out. You kept saying you wanted to go home. You could barely stand. Offered my bed for you to sleep in. You wouldn’t have it. Told me I was controlling you. Then curled up on the couch and fell asleep.”

Noah placed the cup in front of her, sitting beside her. He sat in silence while she stared at the cup of coffee in front of her. Had she really drank that much?

“Anyway. I put that pillow there under your head and covered you with a blanket.”

Noah seemed nervous as he spoke. Fidgeting with his own mug. Rae picked up the cup he had set on the coffee table, taking a long sip of it. She had no recollection of any of it. The last thing she remembered was dancing on Noah before Nick had pulled her away and told her to keep it in her pants.

“I’m sorry if I was…” she paused, contemplating her words. “Too forward? I suppose.”

“No. That’s fine. Nick said you’ve been through a lot. Like, an insane amount of shit. Uh…” he trailed off, rubbing his hand over his face. “You have a great voice and I would love to get you in the studio with me soon.”

Rae sipped her coffee, eying her still sleeping best friend. Nothing bad could happen if he was at least in the room. Though everything in her screamed at her that Noah was a safe person, she found herself physically moving away from him.

“Look.” His eyes were still transfixed on the mug of coffee in front of him. “I don’t know why you’re here. Though I can guess based on the little bit Folio has told us. And you’re in a sling. I’m not stupid. Just don’t disappear on him again, okay? Don’t go back to that asshole and leave Folio broken because his sister is gone. Again.”

Rae clenched her mug tightly in her fist. She knew he meant well. But was right now really an appropriate time for it? Frustrated she took a sip of her coffee, letting the warmth of the bitter liquid sit in her mouth a moment before swallowing. Exactly how much had Folio told him?

“Listen. I’m sure you mean well, but I don’t need some guy telling me how to live my life. I drove clear across the country to get away from the last person who thought they could do that.”

She searched her pockets, digging out her vape. Maybe she was being harsh. But, goddamn it, the last thing she needed was any kind of a lecture from some guy who apparently thought he knew what was best for her.

“Not what I’m trying to do, Rae.” He sighed, standing up. “Come on. Let’s go out back.”

She hesitated, watching him walk away. He didn’t bother to look back at her, assuming she would follow. And as much as she didn’t want to, the need for nicotine outweighed everything. Slowly, and with a cautious glance back at the very much still asleep Folio, she followed him out to the backyard.

Outside she found him kicked back in a chair, phone in hand, typing away. He nodded to the chair next to him, indicating for her to sit. Rather than obey him she stood there, taking a puff of her vape. She took the moment to study him. The way his brow furrowed ever so slightly as he typed. The messy bun he had thrown his hair up in. Honestly, it looked more put together than any of her own messy buns. That irked her. How was it fair his looked better?

“Anyway,” he continued, placing his phone on the table in front of him. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I care about the guy, ya know?”

Rae smirked, finally dropping down into the chair next to him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. She took another puff off of her vape, making sure to blow it out away from him. A sip of coffee. She could feel his eyes on her, feel the judgement radiating off of him.

“Like I said, Noah. I drove nearly 3,000 miles to get away from him. Which is a pain the ass when you’re down to one working arm.” She laughed, though it was hollow. “Not keen on doing that again any time soon.”

“So you’ll be around a while then?” He sounded almost hopeful.

“Yep. That’s the plan.”

“So then you’ll need a job.”

“Hold up. I am not a fucking charity case. I don’t need your help. Whatever it is you’re thinking in that pretty little head of yours? Stop it.”

“So you think I’m pretty?” Noah laughed, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

Rae watched as he pulled one out, put it between his lips, and lit it. She was slightly shocked. Not once last night had he gone out to smoke. At least not that she had noticed. She had never even smelled it on him.

“That’s the thing you focus on?” Rae shook her head, reaching for her coffee.

“I mean, a compliment is a compliment.” He shrugged. “But, no. You’re not a charity case. I was just thinking, we’re headed on a small tour soon. Just a month long. Could use someone to sling merch.”

Rae arched a brow, turning to face him. She had just told him she didn’t want his charity, yet he ignored it and offered her his charity anyway. He was bold, she would give him that.

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll take it.” He smirked at her before turning back to his phone. Jesus he was on that thing a lot.

Tag: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[imaginedreamwrite]

Ghost, Ghost, Host

Part 2: Questions

“Are you done screaming yet?” That question played on an infinite loop in your mind as you tried to grapple with the mental break you were clearly suffering from. You couldn’t have been hearing voices let alone seeing a soldier wearing tactical gear in your apartment.

You couldn’t have seen or heard something that wasn’t real, and it was very obviously a delusion you were suffering from. It had to have been because anything else was improbable.

“Ya go from screaming to silence and then hiding. I hope ya know you can’t hide from me lass.” The voice had echoed in your ears again, a Scottish accent that was farr to aduble to be possible. And a set of blue eyes that were as striking as they were improbable, because he couldn’t be here, and he couldn’t be a ghost.

“You’re not real, I'm clearly suffering from a mental breakdown.” You laughed bitterly and ironically, the sound contorted from your lips as you genuinely struggled to comprehend what you were seeing. “This is all some kind of twisted delusion.”

The way you paced around your apartment was more than a way for you to try and come to terms with what this thing was saying. It was a way for you to try and escape it following you, to find a place of security in your home.

When you were younger, you’d had an imaginary friend like most little kids, an imaginary friend that helped keep your loneliness away. It was a friend that you’d play tea parties with and pretend to explore your growing world with, but never would you have imagined this.

Never would you have thought you'd be plagued with a Scottish...something...in your home now.

“Sage, I need sage.” You stopped short in the kitchen, your barefeet skidding against the floor and pinned the tip of your thumb between your bottom and top teeth. You made a sound under your breath as you thought, your eyes trailing along the confines of your kitchen as if you were hoping to find what sage.

As if you'd had a stash hidden among the cheap wooden cupboards and the aged backsplash behind the sink. Like that was something you though you would always need to have with you as if it were water. You weren’t one to ever really believe in ghosts or cryptids, and anything in between, however it seemed as if you were proven wrong.

“Thought you said I wasn’t real.” The retort comes with a cocky grin that appears on the face of this thing haunting your apartment. While your attention was drawn from the task of opening and shutting the cupboards to find anything useful.

“You’re not real, this is all happening in my head. I'm losing my mind-” you rambled to yourself while continuing your path around your small apartment. You move from the small square table that you'd gotten second hand, past the two chairs on either side of the table, and back to the living room.

You paced in your living room, only completing the same path twice before you ran into the corner of your coffee table. You winced and your hand at once moved to your leg, fingers rubbing the afflicted part of your leg, where the edge would leave a bruise.

You exhaled a curse under your breath, the jolt of the table drawing your attention toward the journals that had rested on top. The one you'd only gotten halfway through was still open and laying in the center of the table with a sketch of some beach at the bottom.

“Can’t argue with ya losing your mind, lass. But I’m as real as that book.” The voice was closer to you, the Scottish brogue was right next to you, which had immediately been followed by the flutter of a hand against yours. “Those’re my journals, I’m Johnny “Soap” MacTavish.”

“What the actual fuck?!” Your mind was desperately trying to process what was going on, a desperation to put the pieces together as you negated the reality in front of you. “This isn’t happening-“

“-I’m attached to the journals, where they go, I go.” He walked around you, picking up one of the journals before he turned it over and ran his gaze up and down the spine. “Lost these in the flight home then.”

The way he said flight home made dread rock you to your core, an overhanging depressive jolt of sadness that darkened the room. You watched him—regardless of you not believing he was real—and listened.

The flight home, his body was empty, his soul was attached to the journals in your possession. Which had rightly only raised more questions than not and left you searching for answers.

“Why-“ you started to ask and stopped yourself, immediately scolding yourself for giving into this faux delusion. “-never mind. You’re not real.”

You stare at the living room window and watch the storm that only picks up pace. The wind blasts rain against the sliding balcony door, and flashes of lightning are seen streaking across the sky. Thunder booms as loud as before, and with the combination of wind, rain and lightning the lights start to flicker again.

“Aye, it’s far more likely that you’re suffering a mental break than seeing a ghost.” The voice makes your attention shift from the storm back to him.

He’s sitting on your furniture, left arm stretched across the back of the couch while his right hand holds the journal. He’s not looking at you, he’s reading the journal he absolutely swears is his, while mumbling under his breath.

You were tired, you weren’t entirely sure you were seeing and hearing what you were. And yet you couldn’t help but allow the word vomit to spill out from your mouth.

“If you’re a ghost, how the hell did you end up with a stranger instead of your family? Why can you touch me? Can you walk through walls? Why can you sit on furniture?” You set your hands on your hips, you stared the thing down while he slowly lowered the journal to his lap.

He was there, with the bloody right shoulder or his shirt, the khaki tactical vest with the UK flag as a patch. The role of sergeant was stitched into the vest and he was sitting there watching you with the kind of intensity you were looking at him with. Hie blue eyes were slightly crinkled at the corners as his eyes narrowed after a moment of silent staring, and then he had slowly tilted his head.

“My family didn’t want the journals obviously. My ma and my sisters had a fight with me before I joined the SAS, they didn’t want me to go further into the military. We had a falling out.” He closes the journal with a snap and sets it aside, speaking to you as if he’s entirely bored with the conversation.

“They’re your family-” your comment makes that level of disinterest shift to something else and even if it’s brief, it shifts again as he speaks over you.

“I can walk through walls, I can pick up and hold some things but not others. I can sit on furniture and I can touch you, cause you believe I exist.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his hands folded in front of him.

“Bullshit, I still think I'm crazy.” You countered him again and shifted positions and postures, to cross your arms over your chest and take a stance of defensiveness. “And this is all some kind of deluded nightmare.”

The living room was briefly illuminated further than before, with the lightning that flashed across the sky. The bad weather hadn’t seemed to be stopping at any point soon, and there was a twisted kind of irony to the storm outside that seemed to perfectly match the chaos in here. Or at least the chaos that was going on in your head.

“And what if I didn’t believe? How does that even work? If you died, why are you here?” Your questions were fired off in rapid succession while you had turned your head to stare at the clock on the wall. The numbers mocking you and the vast amount of overthinking you’d done since he had showed up.

It was now after midnight, the hours between you picking up the journals, reading them and being plagued by this ghost seemed like they took place days ago. You went back and forth with the idea that you were crazy and the idea that ghosts could be real.

An endless loop between doubt and belief.

“I’m not finished, I have things I still have to do.” That was the only question he answered, the only response he had given you, and that was it.

Silence fell between you two, stagnant and awkward. You didn’t know how to react next, how to deal with the ghost that you still didn’t exactly believe in. In the end you had turned away from him and gathered as much as you could of your things and moved toward your bedroom. You left the living room and the ghost behind you, the journals remain on the coffee table and entered your room.

You closed the door behind you and dropped your phone to your nightstand and began removing your sweater. As it was dropped to the basket in the corner, you felt the weight of the day’s exhaustion settling upon your shoulders. You exhaled, feeling foggy headed and drained, and wondered if when you woke up the next morning if this would all seem like a dream.

You removed layers until you could change into something comfortable to sleep in, and then after all that you found the comfort of your bed. Your back hit the mattress, your head hit the pillow, and your eyes were fixated upon the ceiling above you. You stared at the smooth surface of your apartment that felt too small to justify the price and waited.

You waited for noise, you waited for a voice, you waited for the lights to be cut out in the city. It didn’t matter what it actually was that you were waiting for, it was the wait that mattered.

You listened to the thunder, you watched the reflection of the lightning reflecting on the ceiling, all while you tried to prompt your brain to shut off for the night. There was such a battle between feeling like you were crazy and accepting the reality that there was a ghost here, and one that only you could see.

“Ye want me to sing ya a lullaby to put you to sleep?” The voice returned, armed to the teeth with sarcasm, and you turned your head. You watched the soldier who was apparently hitched to you now through the journals, standing by the bed. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and his blue eyes were fixed upon you with furrowed eyebrows and a slight scowl.

“Can’t you go do something else?” The question lingers in the air, and there’s another rush of awkwardness before he steps closer to the bed and stares at you with a growing smirk. It makes you want to reach out and smack him, to throw something at this ghost in your apartment.

“I gotta say bonnie, I was surprised you didn’t ask my name.” He eventually sits on the edge of the bed, and you watch for the bed to dip but it doesn’t.

It just adds to the mystery and the intrigue of this whole screwed up situation.

“I don’t care because you’re not real.”

“My names John “Soap” MacTavish.” He ignores your comment and runs his eyes long you tucked under your blankets and resting on the bed.

“Why Soap?” You rolled your eyes and scoffed, angling your body in order to get more of a head on look at him. But to your annoyance he doesn’t answer your question how you'd like.

Rather he leans in, smirks again and winks your way. “That’s classified, lass.”

[five-hargreeves-marvel-fan-25]

New Timelines New Life (Same family in Choas)

Chapter Two

“Ah Sloane?” Ben called from The main room. 

“What wrong Ben?” Sloane asked. She turned to the TV and watched the reporter talk about the massacre of a gang. 

“20 men dead. I only know one person who could cause that much blood,” Ben said, “I know a certain brother who was an ex assassin with blinking power that made killing crazy efficient,”

“Do you think he has his powers?” Sloane asked. 

“Don’t know. But I don’t think you could just no have them. Even when I was dead I had my powers,” Ben says.

“I asked because I tried floating - my power. And I couldn’t. It’s strange,”

“Come to think of it. I can’t feel the horror,” Ben agreed.

“So your siblings are in the world with out their powers,”

“Well at least we don’t have to worry about one of them ending the world,”

“Yeah. We should go searching for them. If we find one we should find the others,” 

“You know who to find. I know who to find,”

“When you find the people, have them come here.”

The walked out and Ben sees the Academy has a sign. Though like the rest of the building the sign looked broken and worn down.

Umbrella Street’s home for Wayward Children. 

-o0o-

Five walked into the “office” and he could tell that everyone was on edge. The minute before he had heard laughing at a joke someone had said. Five were used to this. He didn’t give a fuck. Right before he was about to sit at his desk, Ms. Handler was standing right there.

“Five”

“Ms. Handler,”

“Great job on your work last night,”

“Thank you,”

“You should take the day off,”

He looked at her “exsuse me”

“You deserve a break. Five of you are top worker. I also granted that rise you put in for,” 

”Thank you,”

“Tell your sweet girl friend Delores I said hello,”

“I don’t mix my personal life and work together,”

“But Delores does know why you do for a living right?”

“Of course,” Five said, rolling her eyes. 

Five ended up going to the bar two buildings away from the job the night before. Mostly because they didn’t card at the door. Five sat up at the bar. The bartender was a guy in a jean jacket with fur lining. When the bartender turn around he was shocked to see a teacher sitting there.

“We don’t serve minors,” the bartender said.

“Why ever not?”  Five said, giving a shit eating grin.

“Because it’s against the law and I could get this place shut down,”

Five grumbled. 

“Look I can’t save you alcohol but is there anything I can get you?”

“Two cheeseburgers, a coffee, and a tea unsweetened with two lemons. To go,” Five grumbled.

“Okay. I’m Viktor by the way,”

“Five”

“Like the number?”

“No like the letter,” Five snapped. Viktor put in the order and turned back to Five.

“You are one moody ass teen,”

“You would be if you spent the night killing people three times your size,” Five said. He had no problem saying the truth because this man was not likely to even believe him. One benefit that the Home taught him: no one suspects a kid to be a murder. 

“Really?” Viktor asked. Viktor wasn’t sure if to be scared cause the kid could be a serial killer or laugh because the kid was crazy. Klaus would have a field day with this.

“Really and how would someone so young be able to get a jump on guys three times your size,”

“The Gang I killed was bright. So snapped the bodyguard's necks and then one other started firing. I loaded my gun and shot them and killed the rest with an axe,” Five said with yet another shit eating grin. Viktor was so concerned. This kid had just play play a murder of a group of people. Viktor knew he was going to the cops about this kid so he kept asking questions about him.

“And your parents let you be out late? Don’t you have a curfew?”

“In order to have a curfew you have to have parents or a person that gives a shit about you. The only person that really gives a shit knows that it do what I do,”

“They don’t question it,”

“No, she accepts all my flaws. To be honest I don’t deserve him at all,”

“She sounds great,”

“Yeah. My only regret is that when someone kills because believe me someone will. My regret is that I won’t be able to spend my afterlife with her. Hell is going to suck for me so much,” Fire laughed.

“There is a way to make it so you could stay with you,” Viktor said. Viktor, what are you doing? You are putting this girl in danger.

“Oh”

“You could always make it so she was damned to. Both of you would go to hell. Together,”

Five looked serious and it sent shivers down Viktor's spine, “I would never do that. Delores doesn’t deserve that. She deserves to go to peace. Damning her would be damning everything good in my life,”

“You really care for her?” Viktor said, shocked.

“Of course I do. You helped my through my shitty life,” 

Then the cook finished the order. Viktor handed the meal to Five. Five gave him a fifty bill.

“That is way to much the mean was only fifteen,”

“Keep the change then. A tip for talking to me. Maybe next time you’ll let me have a drink?”

“Thank but it's still not happening. Hey the order yiu taking to your girl? Delores?”

“Yeah. Going to surprise her at work,”

“Nice,” Viktor nodded. Five opened the door letting Klaus in. Viktor watched as the kid walked down the street.

“Are you serving kids now Vico?” Klaus said sitting in the same spot as Five had.

“No. The kid tried to though,” Viktor said.

“Bad lucky to him. He came to the bar with the tightest ass bartender and owner,”

“Yeah but I need to call the cops,”

“Why?” Klaus said ready for some gossip. 

“Because the kid that just left. I think he murdered the gang two building from us,”

“Well shit,” Klaus said shocked.

Viktor walked over to the bar’s pay phone and dialed 9-1-1. 

“Hello 9-1-1 what is your emergency?”

“It’s not an emergency, at least not like that,” Viktor clears up with the operator.

“Why did you call?”

“All think I might have a tip on a serial murder case,”

-o0o-

“Diego!” Someone called.

“Yeah?”

“I think I might have a lead in your gang case,” the cop said.

“Damn, well due tell,”

“I got a call from an owner of a bar on the street that their bodies were found. He thinks he just talked to the killer,” 

“Killer as in one guy?” Diego asked, confused. The gang that was taken down must have been like a ten man team. Not one guy. 

“Yeah,”

“Well I take everything I can get,”

“Address is on your desk,”

“Thanks man,”

Diego stood in the front of the bar that the beat cop gave him. He opened the door. The bar has been shut down. Only two men sat in the bar. One got up as soon as Diego said. The man held out his hand.

“Viktor. And that’s Klaus,” the man introduced. Klaus had a lazy wave from where he sat.

“Detective Diego Handler,”

“Thank you for coming, Detective,” Viktor says.

“Yeah of course they tell me you have a tip,” Diego said, grabbing his pad of paper. Viktor told Diego everything.

“A kid?” Diego said, shocked.

“Yes. He looked about 16,” Viktor confirms. Diego mumbles something else and closes the pad.

“You don’t card at the door?”

“Only after eight. It’s also a restaurant during the day,” Viktor said. 

“Okay. Did he mention anyone else? Anyone else that might be endangered,” 

“He mentioned his girlfriend. Delores,”

“Anything about Delores?”

“He made mention that she was much better then him. And didn’t deserve her,”

“That’s all?”

“Yes,”

“Well Viktor let me know if the kid comes back again. And if it does, call 9-1-1. It seems this kid is really dangerous,” 

-o0o-

Sloane thought she had seen Luther walk into the clothing store. She walked around and a worker must have thought she was lost because a burnett walked up to her. Her name badges read Delores. 

“Do you need help finding anything?”

“Yes umm this is usually but I’m looking for my Husband, Luther Hargreeves. I thought I saw him walk in here. He’s over six foot. Blond and built like a muscle man,”

Delores laughed, “Quite usual. I don’t think I have. I can let othe other know. And if you give your number to the front desk then if we see we’ll call. I’m sorry I’ll look for him. But my lunch is in ten minutes,”

“Thank you so much,” 

“Of course,” 

The door rang and Delores ran to go help them and Sloane went to wander the store. Delores stop short when she saw Five.

“What are you doing here though you were at work?” She said, giving him a hug.

“Boss gave me the day off. Though I’d bring you lunch,” he said, holding up a bag and a cardboard drink holder with two cups.

“Thank you so much!” She said hugging him. The two walked outside and sat on the bench.

“How was work?” Five asked her.

“It was work. Just met a lady looking for her husband in the story said she lost him,”

“Probably though the husband was cheating and was following him,” 

“Must you alway be so negative?” She asked.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Oh I might get promoted,” Delores said happily. 

“That's great. You deserve it?” Five smiles drinking his coffee. Sloane walked if the clothing store and saw Delores sitting next to a boy how was wearing a dress shirt, vest and tie. Dress up really more then anymore his age. It reminded her of well Five. FIVE! Sloane turned around.

“Five?” Sloane asked. Both teenagers turned to look at Sloane.

“How the hell are you,” Five said, looking like her was going to grab a weipon. Delores stopped him. 

“It’s Sloane you don’t remember? We’ve been trying to find all your siblings. I was Luther in the store,” Sloane rambled. Five got up Delores tried to stop him but he walked towards Sloane.

“Listín lady, I haven't talk to any of those kids since I was ten. So if they are looking for me any of them. Tell them all to go to hell,” Five said, getting in Sloane's face. Delores dragged Five back. 

“Five but your an Umbrella,”

“Thanks for reminding me. Go to fucking hell,” Five said cleaning up Delores and his meal and walking inside the store. Delores watched him leave.

“Look if anyone from Umbrella Street is looking for him. Please tell him don’t. He’s been through enough,”

Delores said before walking inside. 

-o0o-

Ben has by a  counseling building. It had a photo of all the different photos of the counselors and what groups that they lead. He saw Klaus’ photo in two. Grief counseling for family members are passed to service member. And for recovering drug and alcohol addicts. Both are very fitting for his brother. He went inside. He walked up to the lady at the front desk.

“Hi I’m looking for Klaus Hargreeves,” Ben said.

“There is no one here by that last name,”

“I just saw his photo outside. I know Klaus is here,” Ben said.

“Oh Klaus. Yes, that sweet heart. He’s not here. I think he left with the friend,” 

“What friend,”

“I think his name was Viktor. He owns a bar Two  streets down,” 

Ben ran out. If he found Viktor and Klaus he would only have to find Five. Which might be harder because no one could find Five didn’t want to be found.

***New Chapter y’all. Hope you guys like. I currently typing chapter three. Going a bit slow. Don’t worry though I try to finish soon. I’ll make a table of contents post and add chapter as three post so you can there for the chapters. So that’s soon. Anyway let me know what you think. Sorry for any grammatical errors and spelling. I’m not the best speller.

Thanks!!!

[luckyduck0]

❀𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗒𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌❀

Was Sandy panicking the entire drive to some random location on Giggle Maps? Perhaps. Was she also fully aware that she had what could possibly be her dead friend and a criminal in the back of her van? Perhance.

But whose to know, right? It’s not like her leg was bouncing from anxiety the whole ride, neither were her palms sweaty live a damn river. No way.

“Ya good?” Nyxx asked, peering out from the back seat.

Nervously laughing, Sandy readjusted her grip on the wheel. “Hah! That is— that’s is a great question, man! I don’t know! Haha, where are we going again?”

“EDEN Academy, they have a medical wing with some of the best doctors in the world. They’ll be able to help Xen.” Nyxx reassured, as he had a few times since the start of the drive.

“Right, right..” Sandy replied, nodding her head, trying to get her eye to stop twitching. “A-anyway, on that note, how exactly do you know Xen?”

Sandy knew the answer, or part of it, at least. She still hadn’t let go of her initial skepticism of him, considering the whole idea of being saved by the same person you served coffee was really interesting coincidence. Now would be the perfect time to figure out just why he helped Xen, and why exactly he’s helping now.

Not that Sandy didn’t appreciate it. She can’t even imagine what might’ve happened had he and that other lady not shown up, but she was allowed to have mixed feelings!

He seemed to contemplate the question. “Well, about a week ago, I kind of saved her from a mutant thing? Then I took her to the hospital and gave her my number in case of an emergency.”

Even with her mind running a mile a minute, Sandy could still tell Nyxx was on edge. That was probably the best she was gonna get out of him for the moment.

“Got it. So, do you know why might be happening to her? Like, why she exploded into weird green fire or whatever?”

“I’m not sure.. I haven’t seen anything like this before. But if I had to guess, this was probably the result of some failed experiment. Though, you’re guess is as good as mine at the moment.” Nyxx shook his head, looking down to where Xen laid, still.

Sandy kept her eyes back on the road, they were getting close to the academy. Picking up the speed, she swore when something came flying at her side mirror.

Cracking the glass and throwing the van off balance, Sandy yelled as she tried to regain control of the vehicle.

“Fuck! What the hell was that?!” The girl panicked, swiveling her head this way and that.

“Eyes on the road! I’ll take care of it, just focus on getting us to the academy!” Nyxx commanded, throwing open the back doors.

Groaning, Sandy concentrated on the task at hand. She heard an inhuman shriek from atop the van, as well as many thumps and bangs. Well, at least she wasn’t fighting it. Sparing a glance at Xen, she saw her limp on the floor of the van, barely moving. The thinnest of shadows held her in place, which must be because Nyxx was fighting.

“Dammit Xen, please be okay.” Sandy mumbled to herself, concern and anxiety almost consuming her.

Thankfully, what seemed like a very flashy government building appeared in front of her. Overcome with relief, Sandy forgot about traffic laws and sped toward the parking lot.

Swinging into a spot sharply, Sandy put the van in park and hopped out. Above her, Nyxx threw what appeared like a weird bird creature to the ground. It spit up some acid stuff, part of it hitting the van, melting a hole right through.

“Ah! My van! My beautiful van!” Sandy shouted in horror, turning to the thing. “You motherfucker! Do you know how much that costed me?! I’ll bash your brains in you damn disgusting bastard!”

Nyxx turned her, a bit surprised at her profanity. He watched as the girl pulled a bat out of nowhere and started beating the thing to hell. Sandy, however, didn’t really care. The bird thing tried to fight back, but she kicked it’s talon away and smashed the bat against its face.

“That’s what ya get, shit-face.” Sandy smirked, wiping the purple blood from her clothes.

She swiftly turned to Nyxx, who only blinked.

“The hell are ya doin’? Go get Xen some help!”

Widening his eyes, Nyxx nodded and quickly headed to the van, wrapping Xen up in shadows again. He lifted her with ease and sped-walk into the building. Sandy followed close behind, closing the doors of her van and wiping some brain mush off her bat.

“Gideon!” Nyxx shouted as he walked in. “Call Tsubaki! We need help, now!”

A robotic voice spoke back, sounding more like choppy text-to-speech than an actual voice.

“Of course, Nyxx.”

Sandy stared at the ceiling in awe, wondering just what the hell was going on. Nyxx began walking faster, and Sandy struggled to keep up.

“How the hell..are you so fast?” Sandy panted, running had never been her favorite activity.

“Keep up.” He said, his eyes looking straight ahead.

Sandy frowned, but kept pace. She didn’t know what to make of Nyxx, or anything right now. But her best friend was in danger, so she decided to at least trust him enough to help Xen.

—

The doors to the medical slid open automatically, and Nyxx paid nobody any kind as he rushed to the operating room.

Kicking the doors open, he was greeted by the scene of Tsubaki and Stein standing in the room, prepping their supplies.

“What’s the situation?” Tsubaki questioned, pulling on her white gloves.

“I think it might be an infection of some kind. Her body was set on fire as well, but it doesn’t seem to have actually burned her.” Nyxx told, burning holes at the operating table.

“Right. Set her down, please.” The woman said, gesturing to the table. “And remove the shadows.”

He obeyed, pulling back his ability and ignoring the slight drop of his heart when he saw Xen fully. She was covered in slashes, all of them dripping with blood. Every cut also had some green looking veins inching out.

“Holy shit..” Xen’s friend, who Nyxx had forgotten about, whispered. Her face was a canvas of pain, anger, and fear. “I-is she gonna be okay? She’s gonna be okay, right?”

She looked to him, her eyes glassy and tired.

“We’ll do everything we can.” Tsubaki assured, turning to her. “Nyxx, you should both go. You know my process requires complete focus.”

“Right,” He nodded, glancing to Stein who was already leaving. “You, come on.”

Nyxx gently grabbed the girl’s arm, but she ripped it away.

“What the hell?! No fucking way! I’m not leaving Xen here with some random lady! And my name is Sandy!” The girl, Sandy, shouted.

Her shoulders were tense and her eyes were blazing with anger. Before she can have another outburst, Tsubaki comes over, grabbing her attention.

“Listen, child, I know this is difficult, but you need to leave. If you want your friend, Xen? To get better, you need to let me do my job.”

Sandy stared at her, seemingly trying to decipher if there were any lies behind Tsubaki’s words. Deciding, Sandy shrugged off the other’s hands and looked away.

“Fine. But if anything happens, I’ll put all of you in the hospital instead. Understand?” Sandy threatened, deadly serious.

And, from personal experience, Nyxx really didn’t doubt her words.

“Of course. Now, out.” Tsubaki turned away, heading toward the table once more.

Nyxx followed Sandy out, shutting the doors behind him.

For about an hour, all the two could do was sit in the lobby. Waiting.

Sandy’s leg bounced and she chewed her thumbnail. Her eyes were trained on the wall opposite of her, and Nyxx could fully relate.

The unease in his mind hadn’t settled since he got there, and it was all he could do to not rip everything apart. Nyxx wasn’t sure why this was bothering him so much, he barely knew anything about Xen. But it was anyway, and he hated it. The shadows he commanded creeped around in his head, and he couldn’t control it once they started whispering.

Your fault, as usual.

How is it that one person can be so useless?

She was counting on you…

Worthless…

Once the voices started, they didn’t stop. And of course, it had to be now. When he was stuck, nobody there to shut them up. Had Ada or Red been present, they would’ve noticed immediately. They’re ways of snapping him out of it were drastically different, however. Where Red would have isolated him and calmed him down, Ada would’ve just punched him.

That conjured a better feeling, making the voices dissipate some.

It was about now that he realized someone was talking.

“..yxx? Nyxx? Hello?” The snap of fingers in his face brought him out of his haze.

He blinked rapidly, staring at the person in front of him. Sandy stood there, looking unimpressed.

“Takin’ a nap, huh?” Sandy scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Whatever.”

Slumping down into her chair, Nyxx realized just how exhausted Sandy looked. Her hair was ragged, her clothes were torn and ripped, and entire body was tense. Then, he noticed how much blood was actually covering her. And not just purple Ghoul blood.

“You’re hurt.”

“No shit, ya just figure that one out?” She arched a brow, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

He huffed, somewhat annoyed with her attitude. “You need help. Come on.” He stood up, gesturing for her to follow.

“Hell no. I’m fine and I’m staying here.” Sandy glared.

Staring, Nyxx simply picked her up and carried her to the other side of the clinic.

“What the fuck?! Put me down! Dammit Nyxx! The hell are you doin?!” She yelled, twisting around in his arm.

“Helping you.”

“Oh fuck off! Let me go!”

“Nope.”

“Nyxx!”

He arrived at the infirmary in seconds, and was greeted by the younger two of Tsubaki’s students.

“Good evening, Mr. Nyxx! How are you?” Yuki, a young girl with lavender hair, asked.

“I’m fine, she isn’t though.” He stated, pointing to Sandy, who resembled more of a dog with rabies than a human.

“Oh dear, what’s wrong?” Mio, another young girl with dark green hair and icy blue eyes, fretted.

Mio and Yuki were the youngest of the Butterfly Ladies, but they were very skilled in medicine and healing.

“She’s got a bunch of cuts and is bleeding somewhere, I believe. She’s also had a rough day, so please be gentle and patient with her.” Nyxx voiced flatly.

“Understood!” They both said in unison, standing hip-to-hip in front of him.

Slowly, he dropped Sandy from her place tucked under his arm and settled her on the floor.

“Let them help you, okay? Stress isn’t good for the body.”

Reluctantly accepting, she shot Nyxx a look before complying. “Shut up.”

Mio grabbed one of Sandy’s hands, and Yuki patted her on the back. Nyxx was surprised to see the previously rabid girl calm down, the tension in her shoulders visibly easing.

“Don’t worry Miss! We’ll take good care of you! Right Yuki?” Mio smiled, looking up at the girl.

“Yep! And you can count on us, Nyxx!” Yuki turned to him, giving a thumbs up.

He nodded, turning around and heading out of the automatic doors. With that, he was once again alone with his thoughts.

Not for long, thankfully. As soon as he reached the lobby, he spotted Dr. Stein sitting in a chair.

“Mister Stein, hello.” Nyxx awkwardly greeted.

“Heya, doin well, Nyxx?” He asked, the many stitches across his face moving as his mouth did.

“Yes sir, do you need something?”

“No, no. Just checking. You seemed really panicked when you arrived earlier, so I figured I’d check on ya. I know how your powers like to mess with your head sometimes so..” Stein explained, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I’m okay, sir. Thanks though.” Nyxx replied, looking away.

Stein hummed, tucking a stray piece of black hair behind his ear. “Listen, kid, I don’t know why you’re so worried, but, keeping everything inside isn’t good. You know that. So, consider talking to someone, yeah? Ada or Red would do, even if Ada isn’t the best at feelings, she’d listen. Anyway, point is, talk about your feelings. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” Nyxx nodded, brushing off pretty much everything Stein said.

It didn’t matter what he did, if anyone, Red would just beat his feeling out of him. And, Red is the only person who’d actually understand. Ada would just lecture him, again.

The creak of a door opening drew Nyxx’s attention. Tsubaki came out of the room, looking a bit fatigued.

“Are you alright?” Nyxx worried, holding out a hand to steady her.

“I’m fine, Nyxx, that just took a bit more out of me than normal.”

“What’s the diagnosis?” Stein asked lazily.

Tsubaki inhaled, then began to speak. “Well, to sum it up, it seems she had some kind of ability-powered infection. It spread across her body quickly, and acted like electricity and gasoline. I assume that’s what set he body aflame, though I’m not sure why it didn’t just kill her.” Tsubaki explained, holding a hand to her chin, thinking. “I’ll have to run some tests, but for now, my power has done an excellent job at keeping her stable. She’s resting now.”

Nyxx sighed, relieved. Xen was okay. She was fine. No need to worry.

“You should get some rest, Nyxx. You’ve been pushing yourself rather hard these last couple of days, go eat something and then sleep.” Tsubaki insisted, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“No, I’m fine, really. I can stay—” Nyxx reassured, but was cut-off by the older woman.

“I’m sorry, that must’ve sounded like a suggestion. Nyxx, go eat something, take a bath, and sleep. Now. Doctor’s orders.” She smiled threateningly.

Gulping, Nyxx nodded and headed to the dorms. He may be on edge, but that was better than disobeying Tsubaki.

So, with much reluctance, Nyxx forced himself to do everything she ordered. Though his mind was strictly on Xen.

Was she really okay? Was she awake? Did she need something? Maybe he should go grab Sandy and tell her the news?

All these thoughts swarmed his head as he went along, finally reaching the bed of his dorm. Laying down, he stared at the ceiling. One of the tapestrys Ada had gifted him hung above, decorated in moon cycles and flowers. That was enough to get him to sleep, especially when his pet came in and began to snuggle.

Chimera, which was basically the same as it’s name, had the head of a lion (plus some horns), back feet of a goat, and a snake for a tail. As well as some fleshy wings that reminded Nyxx of a dragon. The little guy found a place against Nyxx’s chest, and immediately started snoring.

Nyxx huffed a laugh, pulling Chimera closer, then shutting his eyes.

—

When she woke up, Xen was instantly bothered by the amount of light on her face. Grumbling, her brows scrunched up and she squeezed her eyes closed.

“Sorry, is the sunlight bothering you?” A voice that sounded like honey asked.

Xen only nodded, not really capable of making her vocal cords work. She heard footsteps cross the room, and then the sound of curtains being pulled.

“Is that better?” The voice asked again.

Warily opening her eyes and blinking, Xen was the met with the sight of a rather comfy looking hospital room. And also, a very, very gorgeous woman.

Her black hair was tied into a bun, with two long pieces falling out and framing her face. Her eyes were a dazzling purple, and she wore a pink lab coat over a dark uniform.

Xen was in awe, just how could anybody be so beautiful?

“Pardon? Are you okay?” The woman asked again, closing her eyes with a perfect smile.

Xen nodded harshly, which spiked an intense headache. Holding her head, Xen once again heard footsteps and some clinking of objects. Then, the woman was sat on her bed.

“Here, drink this, it’s for migraines and headaches. It should make you feel much better.” She offered a cup of what seemed like pink lemonade.

She took it, drinking it carefully. It tasted like spring, and Xen wasn’t even joking.

“Good, right? I call is the Sakura Cure, named after my sister. From my own experience, taking medicine is a bit of a challenge, so I figured, why not find a way to make it enjoyable?” The woman shared, placing the cup on a across the room. “Then, I discovered that with the right sequence, I could mix flowers into the medication! That made it much easier, and I could rely less on my ability.”

Xen listened as the woman explained, not understanding a word of it but listening anyway. Ability? Flower medicine? Cool.

She decided that whatever had happened was probably fine, seeing as this lady wasn’t concerned in the slightest. But, curiosity suddenly stormed in and forced Xen to use her voice.

“What’s your name?” She asked, her tone garbled.

The woman looked to her, a bit shocked. “Ah, apologies. My name is Tsubaki, I’m the head doctor here.”

“Great, uh, where is here?”

Tsubaki chuckled, holding a hand to her mouth. “You’re at EDEN Academy, darling. We specialize in ridding the world of monsters, or, Ghouls, as we classify them.”

Xen stared in confusion, but ultimately decided on getting answers when her brain was working.

“Okay…” She slid back against the pillows, sleep overcoming her senses.

“Hm, yes, do get some rest. I’ll have Nanami bring you something to eat.”

Xen just nodded, not noticing any of changes in her body.

Like her hair, for example, which was a much brighter shade of green compared to the almost black color it was before. Her eyes were green as well, with only her pupils being dark. She also missed how much strength she gained, but she wouldn’t realize that for little while anyway.

—

HOLY SHIT THAT WAS CRAZY

Anyway, please enjoy, and stay hydrated. Don’t be like Sandy and not do the bare minimum of taking care of yourself!!

Also, ANOTHA ONE FOR MY FRIENDS @3xen and @skeletonsk1

IM WORKIN LIKE A DOG YALL

[seitmai]

Many thoughts...

You hadn't opened your eyes yet when you felt Bucky’s fingers brush along your stomach in an almost hypnotic motion. You didn't know what time it was or what was going on in the world outside, but you knew you were in his arms and would be in his bed soon enough. Sleeping with someone next to you wasn’t something you were completely used to. It had been so long, and when it did happen it was always by choice.

Yeah choice is not really an option here 🥴

“See, here's the thing…” You suddenly pulled yourself from his grasp and turned in time to smack him in his face with the pillow. His shocked expression was worth it. “I don’t remember the rest of my dream because some entitled jerk pounded on my door in the middle of the night and punched a hole in the wall.”

Fair 🤷🏻‍♀️

You did it again, your frustration fueled more as he kept laughing. “Sleep is precious to me,” you said, nodding to his lower region. “You’re lucky I don't smack that with the pillow.” He took it from your grasp before you could try. “Okay, it was shitty of me to show up when I did. I’ll give you that,” he said, reaching out to touch your cheek. “But I really did miss you.”

Shitty is an understatement

“Fuck, doll, I’m so hard for you,” he moaned. You counted to three in your head and brushed your teeth a little harder, faster, trying to block him out. Maybe if you ignored him he'd shut his mouth. Maybe. “Are you wet for me? Come to bed and let me take care of you. I'll make you melt on my tongue.”

Not even peace and quiet while brushing your teeth, my nightmare 🥲

You swallowed hard, but smiled. “Coffee with cream and sugar, eggs sunny side up, and bacon, right? Right,” you said, proudly walking with confidence from the room. “Clean up after yourself when you’re done.” “I’ll clean you up, too, after I make a mess of you,” he stated, a long moan following as you plopped down on the sofa.

Good god, you can't even ask about a breakfast order with him🥴

“Not really,” he admitted, setting the food out with a frown. “Orgasms take the edge off, but having you close and not having you is difficult.” “Sounds like a you problem,” you uttered.

Hahahaha so true 😂

You were glad for that as well. “Well, it was nice resting somewhere that didn’t have cameras or bugs around the place. Natasha was also nice to talk to,” you said. Meeting her didn’t fully ease your stress, but she helped. Bucky ignored the camera comment.

Of course he did 🤦🏻‍♀️🙄

Likely because of whatever she experienced growing up she looked out for others, though you wondered if part of it was because you were Bucky’s girl. “She offered me a place here in case I ever need space or time to myself., I plan to take her up on that offer.” He was quiet for a moment. “Because you don’t want to be near me.”

🙄😒🙄😒

“She stopped and put a hand to her head while her friend kept walking. I could tell something was wrong and before I knew it I rushed toward her and grabbed her hand when she started to collapse. I pulled her out of the way just in time before a speeding car hit her,” you explained, remembering it like it was yesterday. Your heart had raced so fast when she crumpled in your arms. “Her friend understandably freaked out and flagged a car down to take her to the hospital. She kept thanking me for saving Winnie, but I was still worried about her.” “Winnie.” Bucky swallowed hard and loosened the hold on your hand. “That was her name?”

Oh 👀

“I lied to you during our first date when I said I wish you could’ve met my mother. You did meet her and she did love you,” he said, showing you a photo in his wallet. It was a younger picture of Bucky. He looked full of life and the woman smiling was the very woman you pulled out of the path of the car. “You just didn’t know it.”

🥺🥺🥺

“And imagine my surprise when I had my men look into you just to get facial recognition footage of you saving my mom on the street that fateful day. And footage from the hospital with you sitting there talking with her, bringing her happiness without asking for anything in return,” he said, cupping your cheek as you tried to get over the shock. “I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you, but that just solidified it more. You saved my mom, and gave me more time with her. That’s something that no one else could ever give me.”

That seems a little overkill if you ask me, a simple thank you are a nice bouquet would have been enough

Your lip trembled. You saved his mom’s life, gave him more time with one of the only people he seemed to love and respect. No, that couldn’t be. That couldn’t have been you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Because I had scared you enough. Would you have listened or believed me if I told you that so soon?” he asked gently.

That truly doesn't really make it better lol

“Don’t you see now why I’m so desperate to keep you close? To keep you safe? Had I looked into it then, we could’ve met and been together this whole time,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours. “But it’s okay. Fate stepped in and brought us together now.” He traced your lips with his thumb. “We’re going to make up for all the lost time, and never be lonely again, Kotyonok. That’s a promise.”

Promises can be broken, right? 🫣

Something fell apart inside you and you weren’t sure when you began to openly weep, but he silenced your cries with his lips. Maybe he was crying, too, you couldn’t be sure, but he held you tight against him and didn’t let go. You didn't fight him, couldn't fight him. You were the one who asked for answers after all and you got them, didn’t you? And knowing what you knew now, walking away from Bucky was never going to be an option. He would never allow it. Fate wouldn't allow it either.

💔💔💔

Hold You Tight: Part 15

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 14 | Series Masterlist | Part 16

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.6k

Chapter Summary: You learn the root of Bucky's obsession with you.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, masturbation, dirty talk, tension, backstory, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, slight feels, talk of violence, angst, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and this chapter is... something. Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You hadn't opened your eyes yet when you felt Bucky’s fingers brush along your stomach in an almost hypnotic motion. You didn't know what time it was or what was going on in the world outside, but you knew you were in his arms and would be in his bed soon enough. Sleeping with someone next to you wasn’t something you were completely used to. It had been so long, and when it did happen it was always by choice.

You hadn't exactly kicked Bucky out though, had you? No, you invited him in. If only to prevent him from putting another hole in the wall. Natasha said she’d bill him for it, but you were going to make Bucky pay her extra for the inconvenience.

“I know you’re awake,” he murmured, his lips touching your neck. “Your breathing changed.”

“Mmm. You listen to me breathe?” you mumbled. That tracked for him.

“It’s a beautiful sound,” he said, your eyes finally opening when he pulled you closer. Whether it was sleep, being beside you, or both, it had an effect on his… anatomy. You went still when he rocked his hips once, letting you feel just how hard he was. “God, waking up beside you is a dream come true.”

Your fingers dug into the pillow under your head as he rolled his hips again. His fingers didn't drift south, didn't tug at your pajamas. He also didn't stop that slow grind and you hated that a bit of wetness gathered between your thighs. “Did you have good dreams?” you asked, your voice surprisingly even.

“Mmm. I had very good dreams,” he answered, his voice rough. “Would you rather I tell you or show you?”

Neither. That was what you told yourself. “What about me?” you asked. “You don’t want me to tell you about my dreams?”

“Tell me,” he urged, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I dreamt about you, Bucky. You laying beside me in bed, holding me close. Just like this,” you said, his groan permeating your skin. “Do you want me to keep going?”

His teeth gently sank into your shoulder, making you gasp. “Yes,” he growled.

“Okay,” you smiled, pushing your hips back just a little to tease him. “I dreamt that you touched me. So hot it made me feel like I was on fire.”

Another groan escaped. “Where, Kotyonok? Where did I touch you?” he asked, his voice strained.

“See, here's the thing…” You suddenly pulled yourself from his grasp and turned in time to smack him in his face with the pillow. His shocked expression was worth it. “I don’t remember the rest of my dream because some entitled jerk pounded on my door in the middle of the night and punched a hole in the wall.”

He chuckled as he sat up, his hair falling in his eyes. It was a gorgeous sight and it wasn't fair. “Did you just hit me with a pillow?”

You did it again, your frustration fueled more as he kept laughing. “Sleep is precious to me,” you said, nodding to his lower region. “You’re lucky I don't smack that with the pillow.”

He took it from your grasp before you could try. “Okay, it was shitty of me to show up when I did. I’ll give you that,” he said, reaching out to touch your cheek. “But I really did miss you.”

“I understand that, but it was one day,” you argued, shivering when his thumb moved along your skin. He went a single day without you and lived to tell the tale.

Pain filled his eyes. “But I already went so long without you.”

You sighed, pulling away and searching for your phone so you could check the time. “I need caffeine before we have our talk.”

Bucky looked down at himself. “And I need to take care of this.” He smirked at your expression. “Don't worry. As much as I want to be inside you, our first time won't be here.”

That was a relief. “But you do plan to fuck me here at some point.”

“Natasha let that slip, huh?” He stood up with a stretch and you looked away. “I plan to make love to you and fuck you, too. The best of both worlds.”

“How considerate.” You stretched, too, his eyes following you. “Let me use the bathroom before you jerk off in there, please.”

“You're welcome to listen,” he smiled.

He’d probably put on a show if he knew you were listening. “I’m going to sit in the other room once I’m done and order breakfast. Would you like anything?”

He looked touched that you considered that. “Coffee with cream and sugar, eggs sunny side up, and bacon, please.”

“Okay,” you said, rushing to the bathroom before he could follow.

“I might just jerk off in bed if you’re in there,” he called out as you shut the door.

“Be my guest!”

You swore you heard a chuckle as you went about your business, going to the bathroom, brushing your teeth. Ignoring him didn’t last when you heard a soft groan. Jesus, the man had absolutely no shame.

“Fuck, doll, I’m so hard for you,” he moaned.

You counted to three in your head and brushed your teeth a little harder, faster, trying to block him out. Maybe if you ignored him he'd shut his mouth. Maybe.

“Are you wet for me? Come to bed and let me take care of you. I'll make you melt on my tongue.”

Spitting harder in the sink than you needed to, you gripped the porcelain once you rinsed your mouth out. You had no doubt he’d eat you out like a starved man. Would he make you take him in your throat soon? Fuck your face until you drooled and cried or would he be gentle and let you get used to the weight of him on your tongue?

“I know you can hear me.” His voice was sinful, dark, and you scrubbed your skin so hard when you washed your face you were stunned you didn’t hurt yourself. “Sure you don’t wanna come out and see what you do to me? Maybe show me your pretty pussy? I can jerk off on it and spread it all over those pretty lips.”

You bit your lip, wishing your knees didn’t feel weak. “Bucky, please.”

He groaned louder, his breathing labored. Your breathing was a little heavier, too. “Say it again, I’m almost there.”

All you had to do was open the door to see if his pupils were dilated, if there was heat in his cheeks. Was his hair still a mess from sleeping? Would he make a show of stroking his cock? “Bucky, hurry up,” you demanded.

He chuckled, a breathy sound. “Can’t wait for you to say that before I fuck you.” Your eyes shut as he let out another obscene groan. “Before I fill you full of me.”

“Just go to the sitting area,” you muttered to yourself, not looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You left the bathroom with the hope of avoiding his gaze, but you made the mistake of looking at the bed. He was in the middle of it, looking every bit like a king. His lower half was covered by the blanket, but you could see that his right hand was under there, still stroking himself. His chest heaved, his eyes half lidded as you stared at each other. You had to break yourself from that spell, even if the man was jerking off to the thought of you.

“Like what you see?” he rasped.

You swallowed hard, but smiled. “Coffee with cream and sugar, eggs sunny side up, and bacon, right? Right,” you said, proudly walking with confidence from the room. “Clean up after yourself when you’re done.”

“I’ll clean you up, too, after I make a mess of you,” he stated, a long moan following as you plopped down on the sofa.

Guess he finished.

Once it was quiet enough in the bedroom, you ordered breakfast. You still needed a shower, if only to cool yourself off and get rid of the wetness that seeped out thanks to Bucky. You weren’t sure if you trusted him not to join you or try to watch and had a feeling he’d make you shower and bathe with him once you moved in.

Bucky, for his part, didn’t come out until there was a knock on the door minutes later. Any trace of his earlier transgression was gone, looking more put together, but there was still tension in the air. You remained silent as he thanked whomever was at the door once he checked the breakfast cart himself and wheeled it to the small table. He even pulled out a chair for you, staring at you with a soft gaze until you went to join him.

“Feel better?” you asked.

“Not really,” he admitted, setting the food out with a frown. “Orgasms take the edge off, but having you close and not having you is difficult.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you uttered.

He sat down and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Why did you invite me in this morning?”

“I told you I was tired,” you said, which you were.

He hummed, taking a bite of his eggs. “You could’ve told me to leave, have Natasha call security, anything, but you didn’t do any of that. You didn’t make me sleep on the sofa either,” he said with a knowing smile. “Admit it, you wanted me in bed with you.”

“I will not admit that,” you said quickly. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

He shrugged. “Maybe you were testing to see if I’d stay true to my word and not force myself on you or maybe you actually missed me more than you want to admit to yourself. Either way, I’m glad you did. Best sleep I can remember in a long time.”

Admitting anything would be admitting defeat and you couldn’t do that to yourself. “It wasn’t even a full night’s sleep,” you pointed out. It was after two in the morning when he showed up.

“Doesn’t matter. I still slept well because I was holding you,” he smiled softly, nodding to your plate. “Please, eat. The food here is really good.”

You poked your food around before you dug in. He said things like that and it fueled your guilt for not giving in or fully accepting your new life. You weren’t going to romanticize anything he did though.

“You said we had some things to talk about,” he said after a minute. “I’m all ears.”

You took a large sip of your coffee first. “Yeah, like Ray following me. It was meant to be a day to myself and you had me followed,” you said, watching for his reaction. As expected, he didn’t look the least bit ashamed. “I don’t expect an apology from you because you’ll harp that it was for my own good, but you can understand my frustration that you didn’t let me know, right?”

That was one of the things that bothered you the most. The half answers and missing pieces and being kept in the dark. How much of it was for your own good and how much was it because he didn’t want you frightened more?

“I did have you followed and my instinct proved to be correct that you needed eyes on you. Also proves that you need to move in as soon as possible,” he said, your heart sinking. Of course he was twisting this to justify himself and get what he wanted. “But I get your frustration. It’s a big change for you, having eyes on you at all times.”

“Because of you.” You ignored the flicker of hurt in his eyes. This was all because he chose you. “Why Ray?”

“He’s good at his job, I trust him, and you seem to trust him,” he replied. You did to an extent. “I’m glad he suggested this place to you since you weren’t exactly interested in spending the rest of your day at home.”

You were glad for that as well. “Well, it was nice resting somewhere that didn’t have cameras or bugs around the place. Natasha was also nice to talk to,” you said. Meeting her didn’t fully ease your stress, but she helped.

Bucky ignored the camera comment. “She can bend the will of many men to do what she wants,” he said. There was respect there, even a hint of fondness. “Unsurprisingly, she’s protective of you, which is good.”

Likely because of whatever she experienced growing up she looked out for others, though you wondered if part of it was because you were Bucky’s girl. “She offered me a place here in case I ever need space or time to myself., I plan to take her up on that offer.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Because you don’t want to be near me.”

Putting your hand on his across the table, he immediately reacted to your touch. It was time to take a lesson from Natasha’s book and sway him. “Because we both need that space and moments to ourselves, just like we both need our friends. And any time apart will only make things more meaningful when we’re back together,” you stressed. Like you were stubborn in accepting your fate, he was stubborn in not wanting separation from you in the slightest. “I already feel like a prisoner of sorts in this relationship, so is it really too much to ask for a bit of a longer leash?”

“I’ll worry when you’re not nearby,” he admitted.

Your heart clenched, but you couldn’t allow that sweetness to manipulate you. “Because of men like Helmut Zemo?” you asked. Bucky gripped his fork tight. “You know, it’s a little convenient that the day you give me to myself is the day he shows up.”

What if it was a ruse for Bucky to not give you more days to yourself?

“I can see why you’d think that. I'd be suspicious if the roles were reversed,” he said, a hardened look crossing his face. “But I don’t want him anywhere near you and wouldn’t set you up that way.”

You were still a little suspicious, but the way Bucky, Ray, and Natasha reacted regarding Zemo told you that none of them had any idea he’d pop up. “Why not?”

“Because he isn’t a good person and shouldn’t have gone near you,” he said. You raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m not a good person either, but he’s something else.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. There was a story there and you needed answers.

“He’s rich, powerful, like me in many ways, but the difference is he once had a wife and kid who were his whole world. Something I’ve longed for and never had.”

You tried not to tense up, but that was where you came in for Bucky. He wanted you to make that dream a reality. “Had?” you asked, noticing he referred to Zemo’s family in the past tense.

Bucky nodded sadly. “A few years ago they were… collateral damage in a deal gone wrong. The loss changed him. He grew colder, more ruthless,” he explained. You were glad you finished eating because you weren’t sure you could stomach a bite after that. “Our work relationship has been shaky ever since then because he blames some of the men I’ve worked with for what happened and I feel like he’s been biding his time and waiting to strike.”

“‘Collateral damage’? It was his wife and child,” you said. Zemo may not have been a good person, but you had no doubt his family was innocent.

“I didn’t mean for it to sound heartless,” he said.

“And what? Him setting his sights on me, is it a game? Is he going to hurt me?” you asked, tears instantly filling your eyes. You were afraid all over again. “Will he try to kill me?” you whispered. Bucky’s associates were loyal to him as far as you knew. If Zemo blamed them in some way, what better way to hurt them than to hurt someone their boss cared about? A loss for a loss.

“No,” he said fiercely, pushing his chair back so fast and hard that it hit the floor. A tear fell when he rushed around, dropping to his knees beside your chair. “I don’t know what his angle is yet, but I’m going to find out and I won’t let him hurt you.”

“How can you guarantee that?” you asked.

“I can’t, but I have to try because I can’t lose you, too,” he whispered, wiping your tears away. “We don’t even have to wait until the end of the month for you to move in. I can have your apartment packed up while you’re out with your friends.”

You pulled away from his touch. “No,” you whispered back. Moving in sooner wouldn't help. “You owe me more answers.”

He let out a breath. “Kotyonok-”

“No!” you snapped, moving back in your chair. “Why are you so obsessed with me? And don’t just tell me that it was the connection of seeing me at the club and realizing we’re two lonely souls meant to be together. There is something there that no one is telling me and I need to know.”

Whether it was for closure or sealing your fate, it would drive you crazy to not know.

Bucky took your hands and pulled you up, a detached look taking over his features as he led you to the sofa. The look frightened you more than his leers or glares. Had you pushed too far?

“I told you my dad was an unfaithful partner to my mom, but he was worse. Much worse,” he began, gently squeezing your hand. “We always had money, more than we knew what to do with, but it was never enough for him. He stole from his partners and was careful to cover his tracks, but he slipped up one day. And when that day came, he shifted the blame to my mom. Convinced them enough that they believed him when everyone knew my mom would never steal a penny.”

Your mouth fell open when he audibly exhaled, a broken sound. “Bucky… I…” You didn’t know what to say.

“They didn’t kill her, but they nearly did. She couldn’t even see me when I showed up because her eyes were so swollen. She was hardly breathing,” he continued in a hurt tone, pulling his hand free of yours to remove the glove from his left hand. Your eyes weren’t deceiving you the night he showed up at your apartment. His hand was made out of some sort of metal. “Lost my arm getting her out of there.”

He held it out so you could touch it. “You lost your arm?” you asked, your fingers grazing the metal ever so gently. You had never seen anything like it.

He shuddered. Could he feel that? “It was worth it for the woman who brought me into this world, raised me, and loved me unconditionally,” he said without regret. “And my dad? He just kept whoring around, and told his associates that she had to learn her lesson the hard way. He couldn't admit the truth.”

Your eyes misted over. How could his dad do that to his mom? To Bucky? “I’m so sorry.”

He blinked rapidly and you wondered if he had tears in his eyes, too. “It took her a long time to recover and she never fully did, but she tried to make the best of it. She still had her spirit, and kept her distance from my dad in our home. Some of my friends even made sure my dad wouldn’t go near her,” he said, smiling wistfully. How could she handle staying there? Was it for her son? “Because she never fully recovered though, I almost lost her again over four years ago.”

“What happened?”

“Before I answer that.” He shifted to face you, awe in his eyes. “Have you ever saved a life?”

“What?” you asked, thrown by the question.

“Have you ever saved anyone?” he asked again.

“No, I’m not a hero. I…” you trailed off before a vivid memory filled your mind. “Actually, I did once.”

“Yeah?” he asked, but he sounded as if he already knew.

“Yeah. There was this older woman walking across the street with a friend or relative one day, I’m not sure,” you said, wincing when he gripped your hand. “Bucky, you-”

“Tell me what happened,” he begged.

“She stopped and put a hand to her head while her friend kept walking. I could tell something was wrong and before I knew it I rushed toward her and grabbed her hand when she started to collapse. I pulled her out of the way just in time before a speeding car hit her,” you explained, remembering it like it was yesterday. Your heart had raced so fast when she crumpled in your arms. “Her friend understandably freaked out and flagged a car down to take her to the hospital. She kept thanking me for saving Winnie, but I was still worried about her.”

“Winnie.” Bucky swallowed hard and loosened the hold on your hand. “That was her name?”

“Yeah.” You gave him a strange look when he inhaled sharply. “I stopped at the hospital to donate flowers like usual and I asked one of the doctors I knew pretty well if anyone named Winnie had checked in. I knew she couldn’t tell me yes or no and I didn’t have any other information to give her, but I did ask if she could make sure she got a vase if she was there.”

“Did you ever see her again?” he asked, his voice thick.

You nodded after a moment. “Yeah, I did. I went back maybe a week later and she spotted me by chance as she was being wheeled to her room. She said I could stop in if I wanted to, so I did,” you smiled softly. “She said my flowers brightened up her room and I asked how she knew they were from me because I never put my name on the cards. She said she just knew. I made sure to bring her flowers the next time I visited.”

A sniffle pulled you from the memory and Bucky looked like he was trying hard not to break down. “You kept visiting her?”

“I did. She didn’t always say much because she was tired some days, but seemed to like it when I read to her. Said her son liked to read to her, too, but I never saw him stop by,” you answered sadly. She was a kind woman and it broke your heart that she didn’t get a lot of visitors. “Then one day, her room was empty. No one could tell me anything. I don’t know if she went home or passed or what happened. It was like she just vanished.’”

“She was brought home before she passed away days later,” Bucky said, his hand shaky as he took his wallet out.

You stared at him. “How do you…” He said he knew you donated specific flowers to the hospital. The same kind of flowers you gave to Winnie. “Bucky, what are you-”

“I lied to you during our first date when I said I wish you could’ve met my mother. You did meet her and she did love you,” he said, showing you a photo in his wallet. It was a younger picture of Bucky. He looked full of life and the woman smiling was the very woman you pulled out of the path of the car. “You just didn’t know it.”

“Winnie…” you whispered, feeling like the wind was knocked out of you. “She was your mom.”

The kind woman you saved by chance was the mother of Bucky Barnes.

“Her full name was Winifred. I only visited her during off hours so it wouldn’t attract any attention. Used a fake last name for her records, too, so no one would know that a Barnes was in the hospital,” he said, tucking his wallet away. “She used to talk about this sweet woman who saved her and brought her flowers, but she couldn’t remember her name. With her mind slipping, it didn’t surprise me and I was too caught up in other things to fully look into it because I knew she was safe and this person didn’t mean any harm.”

Your mouth was agape, trying to process everything when he bitterly laughed. “You…”

“Dad never stopped by, of course. Not that I would’ve let him, the piece of shit.” His metal hand curled as anger flashed across his face. “And this person couldn’t have been like my dad and the cowardly men who thought it was okay to beat up a woman. Men like Alexander Pierce, Brock Rumlow, Jasper Sitwell.”

Those were some of the names Zemo mentioned. “Oh, my god.”

“You know, one of the last things she said to me was that she hoped I found my other half one day. To love her completely, hold her tight, and never let her go,” he said, an odd smile on his face. “I only wish she was alive so she could see us together.”

You gasped. He took those words to heart, twisted them into something dark and possessive. “I-”

“I told you that traditional dating never worked for me,” he cut you off. “Seeing you in my club, it all made sense as to why.”

You couldn't find the words, too lost to speak up if you tried.

“And imagine my surprise when I had my men look into you just to get facial recognition footage of you saving my mom on the street that fateful day. And footage from the hospital with you sitting there talking with her, bringing her happiness without asking for anything in return,” he said, cupping your cheek as you tried to get over the shock. “I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you, but that just solidified it more. You saved my mom, and gave me more time with her. That’s something that no one else could ever give me.”

Your lip trembled. You saved his mom’s life, gave him more time with one of the only people he seemed to love and respect. No, that couldn’t be. That couldn’t have been you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I had scared you enough. Would you have listened or believed me if I told you that so soon?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know,” you breathed. You weren’t sure what to think anymore.

“Don’t you see now why I’m so desperate to keep you close? To keep you safe? Had I looked into it then, we could’ve met and been together this whole time,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours. “But it’s okay. Fate stepped in and brought us together now.” He traced your lips with his thumb. “We’re going to make up for all the lost time, and never be lonely again, Kotyonok. That’s a promise.”

Something fell apart inside you and you weren’t sure when you began to openly weep, but he silenced your cries with his lips. Maybe he was crying, too, you couldn’t be sure, but he held you tight against him and didn’t let go. You didn't fight him, couldn't fight him. You were the one who asked for answers after all and you got them, didn’t you?

And knowing what you knew now, walking away from Bucky was never going to be an option. He would never allow it. Fate wouldn't allow it either.

A lot to unpack there, lovelies! Bucky sort of behaved. He believes fate brought you together . What do you think? And what will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[einarshow]

Hi guys heres a story ive been working on

- there was supposed to be italics but i dont get that on this site.

Nilva - The last wings

Another day. Another in a string of 290 days so far since that little insignificant number changed from a 8 to 9. Today was now October 18th and also the day you were ha-HAHAHA! TODAY IS YOU WERE BORN! THE 19TH LAPSE AROUND THE SUN, CORRECT! But, that won’t really matter since you had woken up an hour late and will miss your meeting with your supplier for your shop. You finally barge out of your room hastily brushing your silvery red hair as you increasingly become more annoyed at the person ringing your doorbell. Surprisingly its just a mailman who hands you a package. Unsurprisingly it’s from Carla, your “best” friend, a gift you presume, you don’t have time for it though and you head out the door.

Soon, you arrive at Point Café, the designated meeting point between you and Daniel. If you were to describe the guy you’d say he’s very.. energetic about certain topics, and he’s clearly focused on his work. If you were actually to describe him you’d say he’s small, timid and quite jumpy, and he’s perviously told you that he isn’t good with most social interaction if its not a professional setting. You finish your internal epilogue about that wretch Daniel and enter the building swiftly searching the tables for him. As you sit down you noticed he bought you a tea, which is good since you hate coffee and the last time he ordered some for you… never-mind. Besides it seems he’s very tempered today, so you ask with a semi-gleeful tone.

“How are you today, Dans?” He shoots you a look like you had just killed his dog in cold blood when you utter the last word.

“Uh… just fine” up until now of course

“the weather has been bugging me, though. I swear it’s nonstop rain!” he stops dead in his sentence looking up at the cascading clouds of drape purples and white trickling and gleaming through the edges of the conglomerate of gray.

“We’ve ought to be cursed by a fae-“ You stare up at him and bluntly when he dares speak that last word.

“I’m sure theres just be a new thermal or possibly the gulf is heating up.” You take a sip of your tea as you watch Daniel’s reaction with your fiendish gray eyes.

“When do you want to pay for the shipment?” You answer with next Tuesday as you leave your seat placing your half-fished poorly steeped green tea on the table.

He stops you and asks you in a pleading way if you can two can meet again. You obviously hadn’t properly analyzed what he said, being in a rush to open your storefront up before 3, so you answered

“Well, I’m going to jog up in Mulberry Woods. If you can come, I’ll be there at 6,” and then you grab your bag and head out the door in a stride of sorts.

Finally you arrived at your blood-given, master crafted, beauty of a store. Your paternal grandmother opened it back in who-knows-when and named it “Grandinous” which was used to sell stolen goods that she passed off as pawns. Since then you’ve turned it into a half collection store and half thrift store, and this resulted in restoring it as a decent store to go to regularly. Daily even. Yeah, you’d say your store is doing pretty well while looking at its 15 or so foot sign sitting on top of the double doors. You gently unlock those same painted gray metal doors and stick the flimsy door stopper in the little gap. Little gaps insignificant right? Apparently they save tons, and tons, and tons, and tons of material and money yearly. Your string of strange thoughts on the economic world are abruptly interrupted as you hear the radio crackle on:

“Today marks the day the NORTH WALL has officially been breached. The Dalian of its border has ordered to kill ANY and ALL wretche-“ You quickly shut it off as your heart begins to pound. What the fuck was that

You stop in your tracks. Why would someone put that on an outdated radio—more importantly how the FUCK did this thing turn on by-itself.

Your mother taught you damn well enough to not mess with things that didn’t make sense you, rationalize to yourself while throwing the thing away besides if she was here today she’d burn the damn thing. After that moment you notice another sudden sound that feels like nails on a chalkboard to your frazzled mind.

“Oh what is it this time..” You mutter under your breath as you gently open the backdoor of your store is knocked on.

You see a truck—oh it’s Daniels company, they were just doing their job and delivering the carts you craved. The young package-person looked at your scowling expression with a look of fear in their large eyes. You must’ve been far more agressive then you thought you were..

“Sorry kid, I thought you were someone else. Do you mind helping me get these shopping carts in, err..” you speculate on the name of this individual before they interrupt your concentration with

“It’s Aleix ma’am and yes I will help in anyway I can,” they seem to almost salute before stopping themselves from completing the action like a broken action figure. It’s weird how they choice their words in that rhyme-esq. way, almost repulsively so. You remember the young chap now, they’re only 16 but are working there because of some family situation. They work hard though so it’s no wonder they are at on of the top of their field. The driver looks back at you through a strongly tinted window letting the carts roll out the back. You catch a glimpse of its vivid redish eyes before his expression shifts and suddenly he sped out of the lot with swift jagged turns like he’s escaping some sort of creature is chasing after him.

Sorry what? Does he not know he has a JOB to do… In-fact is having tinted truck windows even legal??!?!? what does he think he’s doing.

“AUGH,” You unknowingly moan aloud as little ol’ Aleix looks around, suddenly trapped at your store, with those same large eyes.

Luckily, with the help of one of the spar phone in the back, Aleix was returned to their house by their mother pretty swiftly. You continued to ponder about that red-eyed truck driver and their STUPID reaction to you. You think back on where you’ve seen him before because of the vague familiarity you sensed when thinking about him. You continue trailing off while signing recites for costumers. One of them, a small frail woman, finally strikes up a conversation.

“Do you think the invasion will make you shut down? I would’in know where else ta go for my scarfs this autumn,” So that radio’s broadcast wasn’t some sort of evil, it was a real warning in place. One you chose to ignore.

“Well, I doubt it’ll even put a dent on this old thing-“

“I guess ima lil scared for my grandkid.. he’s out fightin’ and he’s no killer. Either he’s gona get eaten or he’s gona be discharged n’ I don’t want neither of those for my boy.”

“They did order to kill, didn’t they?” You sharply acknowledge your own words. Kill.

“I say they had it damn comin’ tryna invade our land like that! But it is a lil harsh innit…? Maybe we should try ta listen to the locals on the other-side, so they overthrow those crooks, finally.”

Crooks, those people weren’t crooks they were defending themselves. Keeping their children safe. The locals are crooks then. You’re a fucking crook.

“Ahem.. $8.53 cash or card Mrs. Pérez—oh, and I’m sorry for one of your grandkids getting stranded here, it just came to mind.”

“No worries, Ally is a-okay with her momma. I’ll be comin in tomorrow, can I help ya close up like usual?”

Some time had passed and you can’t get over the command to execute anyone they thought was suspicious at the North Wall. People are so strange, exerting their own ideas unto people who can’t even express their’s. Control was never a lucky tool that humans picked up that lead to their dominance. It only meant people below them, people, were nothing to them when, infact, they could decimate them if needed. Around 370 years ago the first humans had come to this land—well not the first, many lived here even before we did but the foreigners came upon the soil and claimed it as theres. They had complete monopoly over keeping us their places. Like an invasive species they grew and grew until they were so large not even we, the gardeners, could pluck them. They stuck people who had never known each-other together like sardines and called it a commodity. They killed millions, erased our history and stole our names. Now they banished the “creatures of the wild” past a giant wall to the north, just cutting through the Rocky Mountains. Of course the different species aren’t supposed to be in that climate nor other alien specimen’s that were strange and new in every way imaginable. Britain didn’t care though so they shot us, beat us and made us nothing more than a hunting ground to them. Recently some of the stronger species among the vastly different groups decided to take it upon themselves to destroy this wall and… I can only wish the best for them.

Oh hold on. Didn’t I tell myself not to think about silly rivets of the modern era like this? Why should I worry; I’m a person, with a job, friends, hobbies and most importantly I’m not involved with this war. Once again your sudden reclamation of your own morals makes the entire topic fall far away from your conscious.

You look at the clock situated next to your tiny bed in your apartment. It’s one of those older analogue clocks so it takes you a minute to read. “4:33 am” you finally make out. FUCK! it’s 4 am. You’re supposed to get up in two hours to hike. Maybe you could just skip it? oh no, right—you told Dans that you’d go through the woods with him. He craves social interaction so of course he would be there. You think you could maybe text him to say that you’re running late but that would be you have to acknowledge you even think about him. You don’t want any wrong idea’s so, instead, you decide to get up and go to your favorite spot in the complex. You hope you slept at all this night so that you can just pass this off as waking up early. There’s this overwhelming coppery taste in your mouth and your eyes are almost glassy with your peripheral vision looking like watercolor. You now understand that you wasted an entire night of sleep to think about some conflict that cannot, will not and won’t ever affect you.

You groggily get out of your car. Your head is held low with your shaggy, usually stylized haircut, hanging over your tired eyes. Not only were you shit tired but you also got food poisoning from trying out the coffee situated within your complex’s lobby. It was terrible per the usual of coffee but even more so. You look up at Daniel stupid round face staring back at you. You wonder how he managed to get up to early and gel, comb and presumably wash his hair. Too bad his stupid haircut shows his gray hairs. You noticed it your first time meeting him as he seems relatively young, late twenties even, and he just brushes it off saying it was simply genetic. Since when has hair ever mattered to you? Dear Jinara! You must be tired. You hadn’t notice you started moving up the trail with Dans anxiously snailing behind you.

“Are you alright, Nilva? You seem off,” he sputtered out like an old engine. “Isn’t it warm this morning? you—your coat I mean,”

“What about my coat?”

“It’s awfully hefty for this climate.”

“You yourself said the weather was bad! Don’t pay any mind to my coat, Daniel.” And with that you effectively had shown how great of a companion you are. You continue trudging through the insect filled leaves. Looking back at Daniel, he seems to be looking down with his hair obnoxiously reflecting the sun into your eyes.

“So Dan—“ you begin again.

“How do you feel about those mythos at the North Wall?” His words hit you like a freight train. You sputter for a second, your back aching.

“Well, I don’t care for it. If one of them..” You become more careful with your words. “If a mythos comes to my shop I’ll take their money, K?” Daniel takes a second to register my question.

“I don’t care for them either. They’re just victims of circumstance after-all.”

VICTIMS OF CIRCUMSTANCE?? THEY’RE VICTIMS OF YOU! You hold the die here and you choose whether or not to HELP. I’m not a fucking victim of circumstance I’m a goddamn person. You hear your thoughts trail off into oblivion as you give Dans a soft smile and shake your head before continuing your trail. Noticing your discomfort Daniel peaks his head up to give another brilliant response”

“You know, I met an elf before.”

“Elf?” You suddenly are very engaged with his conversation.

“Yep! A real, genuine mythos. Her name was Luci,”

“Like an elf would give you their name!” you snicker to yourself.

“Or so she told me at least. She was taller than me and had a smile like yours—gracious perfect smile with a hooking bite that allowed me to snuggle into her. I forgot for a couple months after meeting her that she was even actively breaking the law. She was truly an enchantress of magnitudes leagues above me. Maybe that is why I fell for her but after coming to my senses I looked around and found her attempting to steal my assets in my own home. I have not seen her since and I do wish she is well even so.” It suddenly became very hard to speak in response. You stared at him with eyes that darted like the white rapids of the south.

“What did you two first talk about?” You reluctantly utter those simple sum of words.

“You.”

Chapter two - The Wall

The turrets of the planes overhead cloud your thoughts as you feel the F-35 Lightning II plummet towards the ground. You had failed your country miserably and undoubtedly will die alone in a crashed jet. You thought you would’ve been the best in your field but it was deemed you were not in this short precession of actions you had taken. Several days ago, more than you could count, you had been drafted into the Air Force because of your experience with commercial and private flying. You are a young male, barely scraping 25, and had only piloted 8 planes and co piloted 13 until you were drafted. It makes you think for s moment that maybe your gracious state has begun to cut corners before quickly burying that thought. You remember 2 years ago when you first graduated flight school with soaring colors. You weren’t very robust or commanding but you felt you were good at completing objectives. Sometimes you were worried people would judge you for your skin condition, melasma, that made you particularly displeasing to look at and thus with some irrational thinking you thought you’d never be a pilot. Luckily nobody has to see you once you’re in the cockpit. You’re considered very good looking in other aspects(and with some makeup) but people find it hard to comprehend how half of your face and left arm are specked with dark brown compared to the hazelnut skin on the rest of your body. Making matters worst your hair is only a few shades darker then your skin so it blends into your speckled areas.

Eventually, you assumed that it wont really matter much longer since once you crash all you’ll be is a pile of burned human flesh. The flashing screen in front of you barely helps as you fail to pull the idiotic jet up to prevent the crash. You cannot tell if you’re going into the ground or its coming up to you as the world around you becomes a shooting blur of warped greens and drab grays. It almost looks the same as when those space movies do a hyperdrive scene. You try to close your eyes and pretend you’re telling your family you love them before a large WACK is heard.

You open your eyes slightly to see a large tree can penetrated into the hull is inches away from your feet as the planes weight bends it downwards. You quickly unharness yourself from the gravitational death trap realizing that you only have so much time. You pop open the top and jump into a bed of twigs and leaves from the towering spruce tree. Your last memories before leaping is how the tree smelled being burned by the now pile of rubbish’s heated engine. You can remember feeling the wind blow through your neatly trimmed curly hair as you try to pull the emergency cord on your bag to activate the parachute but by the time the cord was pulled you were already only 20 to 40 feet from the ground. You moved yourself to the side seeing the parachute you pulled flapping into the wind and just holding your hands in front of your face. You’re name was Fransisco Pérez—and you won’t let this be how you die.

Suddenly you wake up in a small cot with unfamiliar, flaky, pealing walls that remind you of pre-rolled cigars but in a lighter yellow color. Wait—you’re awake! You survived the accident… and you’re thinking about the walls? You decide thats utter nonsense and attempt to look around but unfortunately notice moving your eyes gives you excruciating pain. Maybe you did die and this is purgatory? I mean you did do some awful things in your life. You killed 7 or more things during your time as a pilot, but you cant be blamed for that! You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep once more so maybe when you open them again it’ll start making some semblance of sense. Your relatively unharmed ears notice a sound though. It is like a concussion of slaps against the ground and murmurs of the present future and past. The concluding words sound something like a trombone in the voice of a person.

“Estonkon cukhayvtikv,”

“Estonkon-cukhayvtikv,” A different voice far too closer repeated in a rushed manner. Were these demons?

“Nake omv hethle?”

“Kérrvks.” You begin to wonder what they want with you as you hear them speak bluntly back and forth.

“Hacoháketv-“ You can’t stand hearing their gibberish anymore. You feel something in you cry out to do something, anything.

“Hh- who are you?!” Your voice comes out in a sharp mix of a screech and a hoarse whisper. You feel the dryness in your throat that snaps back at you like sandpaper when you dared to use your words or even dare move. A long pause that rings out eerily loud begins in procession.

“Cehecathles.” You hear the first speaker say in a harsh, brazen voice before the sound of rustling. You attempt to open your eyes once more to get a glimpse what you assume is your first(and last) of the creature who had come to sit next to you. You feel the thing sitting at the foot of your bed lean over you, its body heating your mostly frozen legs with a cold hand clasping over your orbital sockets.

“Now, don’ta go doin’ that,” You heard the beast say in almost perfect english.

“See you got somethin’ in your—uhm,”

“My other eye?..” You say in that same sort of static-y voice that reminds you of those old tv shows on VHSes that your mom would put on while she cooked. The voice went silent for a few moments before attempting at a response again.

“Yes, we woulda done something but we don’t know how yer eyes work. It ain’t like ours. We know that you got information too or we never had taken ya in otherwise.”

“Human eyes don’t get fixed with—” You begin gasping realizing the sudden pain in your eye has tripple ten fold. You attempt a scream but it comes out in a dry gurgle of your own dead skin and spit washing down your cracked throat. You feel as if you are crying out of the incapacitated eye but you realize in horror as your eyes shoot open that your bleeding out of it with it fucking trickling down into the Sahara that as once your throat. The worst part was you had never felt such greater relieve than having some sloshy warm fluid slide down into your gullet. You don’t have to shift your eyes to see that face thats mutilating you because luckily it had the pleasure to peer directly into your eyes.

It looked like a serpentine of sorts with jaded and jagged scales highlighting what you assume is the check bone in snake terms. Its elongated neck writhed as it worked on your probably now dead eyeball. You could not yet see its full head but you did she its underbelly that happened to have a pattern of light sandy-brown scales and darker coinciding sleek scales underneath the previous going back and forth until it reached the end of the length. The under scales also happened to have a triangular motion to it making them look sharp and menacing that made you think of basic melee sword’s blades. Its main body was presumably just a deep, drab brown with no real pattern. You heard a light swishing sound like that of a babies rattle just to realize it was the creatures tail intentively going back and forth in some sort of concentration. You realize the sound originated from the left of your head. IT WAS USING ITS TAIL TO FIX YOUR EYE? You become enraged with all little hope you had for this place quickly vanishing as you try to move your legs, arms ANYTHING really but you cannot make a single move. The blinding pain prevents you from contracting a single muscle as you lie there motionlessly in a true state of absolute torment.

[teddypickerry]

hii bb!! love ur stories sm

do u think u could do a angst jess mariano imagine where the reader is in a relationship with someone else and jess get really upset and jealous and ends up confessing his love to the reader x.🤍

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄 !

pairings! — jess mariano x fem reader

warnings! — cheating (kind of), cursing (…LMFAO), lowk jess being a fluffy bitch so watch out

a/n! — this is kinda out of character for jess imo??? BUTTTT I LOVED WRITING IT. i love this idea + jess just being a fucking lovebot. i want to kiss his face (if you can’t tell from the picture)

THE TEENAGE BOY sat on the steps of the Stars Hollow gazebo, his eyes locked on his best friend laughing with another guy across the town square. They were both drinking coffee and seemed lost in their own world, completely oblivious to Jess's presence. He'd known you'd been seeing a guy for a few weeks now. But anytime he'd ask about him, you would change the subject. Jess was doubting himself at this point. Why would his best friend lie about her very own boyfriend to him?

It was a few days later that Jess was finally blessed with his presence — Daniel was his name, a pretty boring name for the burnout that he was. He wasn't anything special to Jess. Just a tall guy with greasy hair and a shitty sense of humor. To you, he was a good time. Something that most of the Stars Hollow residents lacked.

Friday afternoon marked four weeks since Daniel first locked eyes on you, vowing to his friends that he was gonna win you over. He wrote his number on a cigarette that he offered you which was quite the distinctive ask out. Ever since the boy had entered your life the other boy in your life, your best friend (the asshole + idiot) Jess Mariano, had been a bit slaggish. It wasn't that he was rude to you outright but he seemed uninterested and... different.

You finished your afternoon of homework by replacing your jeans with a pair of comfortable shorts, awaiting a much needed night in. A knock on the door kickstarted your heart a bit, not expecting anyone until later (the takeout guy and your friend Rory, who are not the same person). When you opened the door, revealing an intense Jess. He didn't say a word as he sunk into his jean jacket in the cold weather. You stepped aside to let him in, the worried look on his face enough to suffice as an excuse to let him in. Despite his asshole attitude the past few weeks. "What's going on?" Your voice was hesitant, unsure of the possibilities of Jess's ulterior mood.

"It's... it's Daniel. I don't fucking trust him," he muttered like it was nothing making you sigh. "I can't explain why, I just... I dunno. He looks at you like a freak and I don't think he's good for you." He admitted straightforward whole fumbling with his pockets. It was a rare sight to see Jess anything less than... how do I put this lightly? A cynical, judgmental, cocky bastard. 

So this was a sight to see. He was confident in his words but an internal conflict was dragging him down revealing an inner mood. "What are you.." Your voice trailed off in pure confusion. Reminiscent on the idea that this is why Jess has been so on edge lately. "Where are you even getting this from?" A stern look took over your face.

"Listen to me, Y/N. Something's off about this guy. Everyone can see it." Jess snapped before he sighed and attempted to calm himself down. He didn't want to get angry at you, that was the last resort actually. "What if we just followed him? Just for one day? We would find something-"

"What the hell? No!" You interjected in genuine question if your best friend had gone mad. "Can you stop accusing him of being a dick? Does this get you off?"

The two had gone silent as they both swallowed your words. There was a hint of regret on your behalf even though Jess was showing signs of insanity. He stepped forward, his hand placing a gentle hold on your arm. He was desperate and it showed. "I'm telling you, something's wrong with that guy. I can't tell you why... or how, I just feel it. Believe me, please. For me?"

You contemplated his words for a moment before looking him in the eye directly. Now or never. "Is it that or something else?" You hushed, a hasty breath releasing. "What do you..." His voice was soft, which you'd never experienced from Jess. He tried to sound curious and failed miserably when he took a deep breath.

Another silence fell over the two when she tried to decipher what he was thinking. She had no idea which route to take. "Are you upset that we don't see each-other anymore? I know I've been distant lately but you can't just put the blame on Danny, Jess."

Safe route.

His hand ran down her forearm to play with her fingers unintentionally. Jess was silent which showcased his answer. You were right and he didn't want to admit how much that affected him, or how much that was apart of the problem. He also half expected you to say something else but realized how idiotic that thought was. "It's true... but only because I care about you. I don't want you to get hurt or whatever... you know?" Once again, safe route. Or as I would say... bullshit.

"Are you sure about that?" Your voice came just below a whisper hardly enough for either of you to hear. His face seemed to harden at the accusation he wanted you to believe him. "Can't you just believe the 'I miss you' lame thing?" He attempted to joke with a straight face. You didn't budge and let out a soft breath before glancing away. "What do you want me to tell you, Y/N?" Jess's voice raised into a heavier tone seemingly upset with his best friend's lack of belief.

"That you love me," you uttered even shocking yourself. Jess quite literally couldn't believe his ears. He didn't waste anytime to do the thing he couldn't stop thinking about anytime he saw you. Jess stepped forward with your faces nearly touching. "I do love you."

Now was your opportunity to not waste any time. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. A sudden surprise for Jess, which he obviously appreciated. The short but passionate kiss was ended with a soft breath, only for him make an attempt to take the lead. He took a deep breath and pulled you back into him. A deeper and more intense kiss coming over the both of you. You were soft and sweet in his arms that were now tangling around you. Due to dire need of oxygen (sadly) your lips were pulled apart. The elephant in the room needed to be addressed and no I'm not talking about your dad's elephant hat. "What are you gonna tell the asshole?"

"Jess," You warned teasingly being brought out of your trance. "That I'm the asshole. I shouldn't have stringed him along like this. I know we weren't exclusive or anything but... I feel really bad. Because I've been in love with my best friend for a long fucking time."

Jess had to bite down on his lip to stop himself from kissing you again. A new addiction of his has occurred and they were called your lips. This conversation was heavy on your heart, you needed his advice rather than his spit. "How do you think he'll react?"

"Well how would you react?" You scoffed before pressing your head against the wall. "He'll take it out on me, not you. I'm sure." This was the time Jess realized this situation would have consequences to be dealt with. Something he was never too fond of. He liked living life his way, not with a barrier. The thought of Daniel being pissed at you made him want to knock him out, which to be fair is something he's wanted to do for a long time. Jess pressed his lips to your cheek softly, in an attempt of comfort. A sweeter Jess was something you'd never seen. But you weren't arguing.

"I'll talk to him if you want... I promise to call him Daniel and not Dickwad." Jess teased with his nose pressed to the side of your face. You giggled before turning towards him. "That might not be the best idea since I just spent my evening confessing my love to you."

"Fair enough." Now was his turn to laugh shining his crooked grin you were so fond of. "I'll wait outside with a crowbar for him and a kiss for you." Jess's joke made you playfully roll his eyes before leaning in for a soft kiss. You wanted to take in as much as this moment as possible. It was still unbelievable. "I'm yours, I'll be there for whatever you need. Like your own personal Bosley?"

"Does that make me your angel?" You teased while he replied with his lips touching yours for the seventh millionth time that evening. But you knew you'd never get sick of this feeling. Neither of you could bare to hold back as you fell deeper into the kiss. When you finally pulled apart he was full of energy and adrenaline. He could run a marathon screaming about how he was kissing the girl he loved loudly. He wanted to know how you felt about him too. "Tell me I'm the only one for you," He whispered intensely. Jess's look was pure fire as he intensely looked into your eyes.

"I love you, Jess Mariano. Only you."

"Good. Now let's watch Detroit Rock City."

"Hey!"