#god i've been cleaning the metal parts all this time and not realizing

[itsbenedict]

IT WASN'T CLOUDED GLASS

a horror story about what happened when i took a lysol wipe to the sliding glass door of my shower i've been using for years

[ghosttotheparty]

For the dialogue prompts: Steddie + 22. “Yes, you totally can. You can do anything! Um. Do what, exactly?”

also on ao3

"Do you think I could ask Eddie out?"

Robin chokes on her 7-Up, and a little goes up her nose, and it burns, but she still turns to Steve, wide-eyed. Her face is wet with soda, but she doesn't bother to wipe it at she stares at him and he stares back, blank-faced.

"Well?"

"Run that by me one more time?"

"Okay--" He sighs, dropping his head for a moment as he leans over the counter, pushing his pack of Red Vines away. "Look."

"Where did this come from?" Robin bursts, finally wiping her face clean of the soda and the single tear that's fallen from her eye. (It really burned.)

"I-- Okay," Steve says again, sighing heavily. He glances at the door, which is hanging open to combat the summer heat, but it's a slow day today, and the parking lot is empty except for his Beemer and two other cars. "I kind of... really like him." Her eyes widen more and her head tilts. "And I only realized, like, yesterday, so I haven't been keeping this from you, I swear. I just..."

And then Robin is grinning, and she hops over, bouncing up onto the counter next to him and setting her soda down dangerously fast. It almost tips, and Steve stares at it with wide eyes as Robin kicks her feet and looks down at him.

"How'd you realize?" she asks excitedly, rocking back and forth.

"Are you serious?" he questions, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I never got to talk about crushes when I was a kid," she complains, whining and kicking at him. "Let me have this, come on. Tell me."

He sighs heavily, looking around again even though they're alone, and he leans against the counter next to her legs, a smile now teasing at his lips.

"He made me a mixtape," he says, and Robin grins, watching the way his eyes glaze over a little.

"Was it all metal?"

"I mean. Yeah. That's kinda all he listens to," he says, and he's fidgeting with his fingers, twisting them and cracking his knuckles. "But it was... It was good. I liked it."

"Right..." she prompts, nudging his side with her foot again. She lifts her 7-Up to her mouth as he nibbles on his bottom lip, thinking.

"There was one song on it," he says slowly, carefully. "That just... I don't know. It felt... different."

"Different how?"

"Like... Romantic?"

Robin's smile grows until it almost hurts, and she kicks him.

"How does it go?"

"I don't remember," he lies (she can tell), "but part of the chorus says something about, uhm. 'I'm a prisoner of your eyes.'" He pauses, brows furrowing as he thinks. "And there's a part about, like, 'I've locked myself inside your heart and thrown away the key." And, uhm, 'Only time will tell if I can live without you,' or something."

"Oh my god," she says succinctly. He stands up straight, looking at her, exasperated.

"Right? And I can't tell if it's, like, just a good song that he thought I'd like or if he's trying to say something or if he's saying something without meaning to, or..."

"Okay, wait, how did you realize you like him?"

"I just..." He sighs heavily, falling forward so his face is smushed against her thigh, and she pats his head. "Was listening to it and thought about, like. If someone else showed me that song it would be romantic. And then I thought, like 'What if it is romantic?' and I thought I wouldn't mind if it was, coming from him, and then I just... Realized I kinda want it to be."

Robin's heart swells. She runs her fingers through his hair tenderly, and he sighs again.

"You're cool with liking a guy?" she asks after a moment. "When I realized I like girls I totally freaked out."

He shrugs, standing up again and sighing.

"It took a minute," he says a little tiredly, "but... Weirder shit's happened in my life. Liking a guy doesn't seem like the end of the world when you've witnessed and survived the actual end of the world, you know?"

She frowns thoughtfully.

"Yeah. I guess."

"Just... I mean I guess I'm just kind of stressed about, like... What if he doesn't like guys?" he asks, picking up a Red Vine and taking a bite.

"I don't think you have to worry about that," she says without thinking, and his eyes widen as he looks at her, half a Red Vine hanging from his mouth.

"...Huh?"

"...Uh."

He stares for a few more seconds, chewing slowly.

"Do you think he's gay?" he whispers.

"Well, I don't think he's straight."

He swallows and throws the other half of the candy to the counter aggressively.

"Robin."

"Steve."

"Are you serious?"

"Look, I'm not saying I know everything, I'm just saying he seems kinda..." She shrugs weakly.

He takes a breath, one of his hands flapping weakly for a moment as he raises onto his tiptoes and then lowers, calming himself. And Robin thinks maybe they spend too much time together.

"Are you serious?" he says again, and his eyes are wide and shining, and he suddenly looks like he's the kids' ages, like he's just a boy with a crush instead of a man that had to grow up too fast and then never got the chance to slow down. She shrugs, smiling a little. "Do you think I could do it?" he asks almost excitedly, giddily, and God, she loves him.

"Yes, you totally can, you can do anything!" a voice says brightly from the doorway, and they both jump, looking up to find Eddie strolling in, wearing a pair of jeans despite the heat and a white shirt that reads Iron Maiden with some illustration on it. The sleeves are cut off, exposing his tattooed arms and his scars, and Robin knows Steve is probably melting just looking at him as he approaches the front counter and leans over, looking at Steve with shining eyes. "Um. Do what, exactly?"

Steve and Robin look at each other.

Now's your chance.

Should I?

Yes, obviously. Use the breakroom.

What if you're wrong?

I'm not, get out of here.

Eddie waits patiently, looking back and forth between them, smiling almost nervously like he knows they're talking about him, and his face light up and his smile softens when Steve looks at him.

"Uh. Can we talk?"

"Yeah," Eddie says lightly, confusedly. "'Course, what's up?"

"Like..." Steve gestures with a tilt of his head toward the back, and Eddie taps on the counter as he stands up straight, following him.

Robin kicks her feet, smiling at the ground and lifting her 7-Up again.

---

"So."

"You okay?" Eddie asks as the door shuts behind them. He leans against the back of it looking offensively good as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, no, I just... Uhm." Steve takes a deep breath, moving to lean against the wall across from him. The room is laid out so there's a wall in front of the door, so their shoes are almost touching. Eddie's wearing some black Converse today, scuffed and ripped and stained with mud and grease. "Wanted to ask you something."

"Okay," Eddie says slowly. "What might that be?"

"Uhm." Steve takes a breath. "That mixtape you made me."

"Did you listen to it?" Eddie asks, his eyes lighting up.

"Yeah," Steve says, and he can't suppress his smile, looking at him. His hair is tied up in a messy bun on top of his head, probably with a hair tie he stole from Nancy, but there are some pieces falling down around his face, and it looks pretty. Eddie pulls a piece across his face shyly.

"Did you like it?"

Steve blinks at him.

"Yeah," he says breathlessly. "I liked it a lot."

"Really?" Eddie asks, beaming.

"Yeah," Steve says, his smile widening. "There was one song--"

"Which one?"

"I think it was called..." Steve hesitates, watching Eddie carefully. "Prisoner of Your Eyes?"

Eddie's smile falters, and his eyes flicker across Steve's face, his hand lowering the curl he's holding.

"You like that one?" he asks, his voice softer, and Steve almost has all the confirmation he needs.

"Yeah," he says shyly. "...Made me think of you."

Eddie's eyes widen the slightest bit, and he stares at Steve, and in the small space, Steve can practically hear his heartbeat. (And what a beautiful sound that is.) Eddie drops his hand and puts it in his pocket.

"The others didn't?" Eddie says, and Steve scoffs, kicking his foot lightly.

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

Steve looks at him, and Eddie's eyes are boring into his, dark and shiny and Steve could swear he can see the universe in them. Eddie is unblinking, and he looks like he's holding his breath, apprehensive and shy and nervous.

Steve stands up straight off the wall, taking a deep breath as he steps closer. Eddie's eyes somehow widen even more. They're practically the same height, but he still looks like he's looking up at Steve, eyes shining.

"Do you?" Steve asks, his voice soft now, almost whispering.

Eddie's lips part as he looks at him, and he's close enough now for Steve to see each eyelash, to see the strand of hair that's on his face. Steve reaches up to move it out of the way. Eddie's cheeks flush pink.

"Is this what you were talking about with Robin?" he asks, his voice breathy, as he looks across Steve's face, his eyes lingering on his mouth. Steve hesitates, his face warming.

"Uh. I asked her if she thought I could ask you out."

Eddie's eyes snap back to Steve's and flick back and forth between like he's looking for a lie in them, like he's searching for an indication of Steve's honesty.

"Really?" he breathes.

Steve nods, smiling softly at him. He reaches up and tucks a curl behind his ear tenderly, tracing a line down his neck, looking at the scars that match Steve's own.

"What do you think?" he whispers. "Could I?"

"Yeah," Eddie breathes. "I think you could."

Steve suppresses a smile, moving closer and touching Eddie's face, caressing his cheeks, tracing the scar that's on his left cheek, rough and pink and a little silvery and beautiful.

"Will you go out with me?" he asks softly, disregarding the second part of the question, which clarifies that going out for them isn't the same as it is for other couples, because they have to pretend to be friends, because Steve can't bring him flowers, because he can't kiss him in the parking lot. But for now, at this moment... they can pretend.

"Yes," Eddie says, and his hands finally find Steve's waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of his vest. "I'll go out with you."

"Yeah?" Steve asks weakly, smiling, and Eddie's eyes flicker across his face again, his fingers tightening on his waist.

"Yeah," he says. "I wanna."

"Shit," Steve breathes. "Okay."

"Okay," Eddie says softly.

They stare at each other for a moment, just breathing. Touching each other. Holding each other.

"Will you kiss me, please?" Eddie bursts after a moment.

"Can I?" Steve asks, his heart pounding, excited, and Eddie pulls at his waist impatiently.

"Please," he says adamantly. "I've wanted to kiss you for fucking ages, I'm begging you, Stevie."

Steve beams so brightly that his face hurts, and he moves closer, setting a hand on Eddie's chest and pressing him into the door.

Eddie's eyes are already almost closed, and he's lifting his chin up for him, lips parted, and Steve wonders how he could have gone this long without realizing he likes men, because Eddie is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You're fucking gorgeous," Steve whispers when their lips brush, and Eddie's hands tighten again as he pulls at his vest.

Steve kisses him before he can say anything.

Eddie gasps and clutches at his back as Steve presses him into the door harder, and Steve is so glad his life's worked out the way it has, because somehow he has Eddie Munson up against a door, kissing him like his life depends on it, and he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Steve holds his face tenderly, tilting his head as he kisses him again, and he can feel Eddie's pulse hammering against his fingertips as he presses them into his skin under his jaw. Steve smiles, catching Eddie's lip between his teeth, and Eddie lets out a breathy hum.

"Do you wanna spend the night at my place tonight?" Steve asks breathlessly when they part, panting, and Eddie kisses him desperately before he answers. His hands are pressing into the small of his back. It feels good.

"Yeah, obviously," he says softly into his mouth, licking at his lip. Steve grins.

"Cool," he whispers. He pulls back just enough to look at him, at the way his lips are red and shiny now, the way his eyes are a little glazed over. "'Cause I got, like, twenty years of repressed bisexuality to work through and I kinda want you there for it."

"Oh, fuck. Okay, yeah, yes."

---

They're taking too long. Robin helps a customer, the only one that comes by, and she helps herself to Steve's Red Vines, nibbling them as she watches the movie they put on earlier even though she can't really follow along because she got a little distracted earlier.

She looks over at the breakroom, sighing, bored, and then she sticks a Red Vine in her mouth, stepping cheerfully around the counter to the breakroom, where she pauses, listening in case they're talking. She just hears a soft, breathy hum, and she grins, her fist hovering above the door before she knocks hard.

"Jesus fucking--"

"Robin!"

She cackles happily, throwing her head back.

"I'm bored," she says loudly, and Steve calls back, "Okay, well, I'm not, so fuck off."

She groans loudly, falling against the door, and she hears Eddie

They emerge after another few minutes, their hair touseled and cheeks red, and Eddie is grinning smugly.

"Rob," Steve says before he's even at the counter. "You're staying at Nancy's tonight."

"Yeah, I figured."

dialogue prompts!! ❧ buy me a coffee // check out my commissions ☙

[raccoonfallsharder]

I think Rocket would be like, INSANELY good at Hanayama Enigma puzzles. They're these little puzzles made out of interlocking metal parts, and the goal is to take them apart and then put them back together. I could see him just coming across one and fiddling with it for a few seconds before having it taken apart not even realizing it's supposed to be a challenge. He's so good at intuitively knowing how things fit together that these puzzles would be no match for him.

sorry for my delay, sweet nonnie. i've been a little burnt-out and reclusive lately, and i apologize! i'm back now (sorta), and so grateful you sent me this ask. i had to look these up and then i fell into a hole watching youtube videos of people solving them. wild. my brain does not work this way.

rocket's brain, however, absolutely works this way. you are 100% correct. of course, you'd know. the first time he sees you fucking around with one of these puzzles, he peers over your shoulder for a whole two seconds before being like, you're doing it wrong.

you don't even know what i'm trying to do, you say, annoyed, and he rolls his eyes.

fuck off. do too. twist that piece there. no, not that much. moron.

you follow his less-than-stellar directions - more out of curiosity than anything else - and outside of a few false starts when he's just not being clear about what he wants you to do, every new step takes you closer to the perfect solution.

it would be enraging if it weren't for how fascinated he looks. not by the puzzle itself, so much as the idea that it is a puzzle. for him, it just makes sense. he looks at these pieces of metal and - from your perspective - it's like he can see right through time, to the thing it's supposed to be. and god forbid he gets his actual hands on it. he's even faster when you convince him to try one himself and to do it blindfolded. if anything, it's almost like his eyes get in the way.

of course, it makes sense. every gun and weapon and ship he builds is ultimately just a bigger puzzle.

he doesn't understand why any of these toys are more difficult for you to figure out than something as simple as a clothespin, and that's what's got him all entranced. if you can understand how a key works in a lock or how to take apart a quad blaster to clean it, why can't you understand how to dismantle this tiny sculpture and put it back together again? that's the real puzzle, as far as rocket's concerned, and it's the one he decides he's gonna solve. so he starts making puzzles of his own - for you - little bits of interlocking metal, shapes that come together into new shapes. he tries to figure out the perfect combination of pieces that makes a thing hard for you to solve, but not too hard.

when a planet isn't being saved and the galaxy doesn't need guarding, this is how the citizens of knowhere find the two of you: in the dim dusky light of the artificial knowhere sunset, sitting outside mantlo's with either a pair of gargleblasters (yours is watered down) or milky fizzes, depending on the night. both of you are clinking away, the streetlights reflecting on the smooth glossy pieces of metal in your hands. you're trying to figure out the most recent puzzle rocket has given you, and rocket's busy bending and twisting metal to make the next one.

i'm using you, he tells you one night, after he's finished crafting your next puzzle and is just drinking his booze and looking down the street, watching people snack on streetfood and the star children play something like tag because drax is a pushover when it comes to enforcing bedtimes.

yeah? you mumble distractedly.

mmhm. he nods solemnly. i figure out how hard a puzzle is, depending on how long it takes your dumb ass to solve it. then, when some asshole comes to ask me questions or wants something, i give it to them so they get distracted and leave me alone.

yeah, okay, captain, you drawl, taking a sip of your drink and going back to the cool metal between your fingers. you've seen him doing exactly what he's describing, but you've noticed he never gives anyone a puzzle that's too difficult for them - just something for them to wrap their minds around for a few rotations, something to stretch their brains. they're always so proud when they come back to their captain with their toy figured out, even if he just gives them a blank stare - pretending he really does think they're idiots.

of course, the people of knowhere see right through him.

rocket's such a hard ass, you mock. who knew.

he makes a typical scoffing sound, but when you look up, you can see him: watching his people with soft eyes. nebula's out today, talking with some of the vendors, and one of the kids is perched on her back. you can hear drax laughing down the street, and somewhere, cosmo barks happily. rocket's shoulders are relaxed, and his tail flicks lazily, and you're not sure you've ever seen him so at ease.

you lean over and nudge him with your elbow.

joke's on you, bud.

everyone here just thinks you're handing out presents because you like them.

[pauls-mescal]

“A Place In My Heart” - Bucky Barnes x f! Reader, Part 3

This gif make me wimper but that's just a little peak of what happens this chapter. A little smut but not too detailed, I hope this is enjoyable!! Previous chapter.

Word count: 1.9k

Tw: smut/nsfw/18+

*******🔪*******🔪*******🔪*******🔪

Sam decided with Bucky that the soldier would lay low for a few days at (Y/N)'s house for the sake of his protection. After what happened in Athens, they both agreed to reveal John Walker's real intentions but needed to stay focus on their work in a more discreet way. When they knocked on her door, she already knew they would be there but actually didn't expect Bucky to be a little beaten up, maybe more than the usual. His face was red from the blood, the lip a bit swollen and a cut through his eyebrow was still open. She let a small gasp come out from her mouth seeing he was still trying to keep his shape up, even though he was still pretty sure his ribs were broken.

Sam kept a shut face while he kept holding a gaze to Barnes in a playful way. Obviously there were more than just "lay low", but he couldn't help and try to make his friend engage with a woman after so many years.

"Oh, God, please come in", she said it in a sweet tone and the soldier entered her apartment with somewhat difficulty. Wilson had to see his sister, so he didn't stay, leaving them both alone. After what happened the other day at his house, she tried to gather her thoughts and tell herself that was just some sweet moment they had together, no more than that. He helped himself sitting on her couch, getting rid of his combat boots along with the gloves and the jacket. He didn't lose his straight pose next to her, mostly because he was already used to being beaten when doing all the ops.

"Jesus, Bucky. They got you real good this time", (Y/N) said before sitting next to him, looking closely to the wounds and how they must hurt.

"I just need some water and get some rest", James affirmed. He looked at her with a tender smile on his face, ignoring the pain from his cut lip. She returned the smile.

"I'm getting you patched up, but I think you should take a shower before", she got up from the couch and moved to her bedroom. "I'm not sure I have any clothes in here that fit you", (Y/N) explained a little louder so he could hear.

"It's alright, I can wait until tomorrow. I've been like that before", Bucky said as he walked into the kitchen, looking for a glass of water. "If you don't mind," he glared at her before pouring some of the liquid for himself. She nodded and went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

Sitting on a stool in the kitchen aisle, James realized that she had a tender look when she came back and placed the kit on the bench and observed his injuries. (Y/N) grabbed a few gauze and some saline solution to clean the wounds.

"This might hurt", the journalist looked down at him - that was one of the few ways she would look taller than him - and he nodded. As she placed the wet object on his eyebrow, Bucky let out a groan of pain and made a fist with his flesh hand. He knew it would hurt and it's not like he could do anything about it.

As she continued cleaning, she grabbed his chin gently and pulled his face up. The way the soldier held his gaze at her made her spine shiver and he felt his body burn inside him. (Y/N) thought how the fuck she would be able to patch him up if he kept looking at her that way. Those blue eyes kept burning on her skin and she couldn't look away from that, it was like it was holding her captive. 

Barnes gripped her waist with his metal arm and she automatically stiffened her body with the cold but sweet touch. Holy shit. She pulled herself together for a moment and cleaned his lip with slight movements as he closed his eyes for a moment, her feeling relieved only for a few seconds, when he opened his eyes again. Bucky got up from the stool and glued his lips to hers in a soft way and sighed when he found her tongue within seconds. He used his flesh hand to grab her hair while holding her waist with the other, while (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck without forcing him as he was still in pain from the ribs.

The soldier walked forward, guiding her the way to the couch and gently laid on top of her, holding himself with one arm, leaving a small space between them. He felt like his body was about to blow up when his waist touched her for a few seconds, and naturally felt the urge to take his clothes off and wrap her around with loads of pleasure. She tried to breathe under his lips, but it was like a magnet and no matter how breathless she was, she was fine with that.

Barnes groaned aloud when he felt her hand under his shirt and his bulge pulsed inside his clothes. This was getting out of hand, he was beaten, but he wasn't dead. (Y/N) wasn't sure if she would let him rest, but she knew she really wanted to make love to that man. James felt the need to actually lay her on a mattress and grabbed the woman, both still had their lips glued.

She decided she would give him some special care after being on a mission and lay on top of him, helping him getting rid of the shirt along with the combat pants. She then realized he had some scars through his body, most of them were superficial but some others were deeper, like from bullets and knives. It made her stomach flinch, everything he had to be through all those dark days as Winter Soldier. (Y/N) traced her fingers across his hard rock abs, softly touching his skin watching him looking at her. Before fucking him, she wished she could've cuddled him, because that's what he needed the most these days.

The fact he was still standing after all, trying to protect people from every evil thing in the world. Bucky gasped under his breath at the sight of the woman looking at him with such compassion, kissing his body and his scars gently, rubbing his skin until she stopped her fingers on his arousal, as he quickly removed boxers. He got up to kiss her urgently and took the opportunity to help her get rid of her clothes with ease, and caught his breath shaky when he came across the woman's breasts and nipples already hard.

Bucky looked at her with a mixture of desire and protection, grabbing one of her breasts with his hand, while he cupped the other one affectionately with a mouthful. She tried to hold back the moans trapped in her throat, making him even harder. While she felt his wet tongue rolling around her nipple, she dropped her hand and decided to massage his cock, the burning sensation around her cunt made her gasp.

Her moves around his dick were somewhat gentle but also had a tight grip while he thrusted under her touch. She grapped his lips after a while and Barnes traveled his hand until he reached her jeans, trying to rip them off with urgency, never leaving her mouth. He groaned louder before taking off the lingerie, realizing she was already wet from all the kisses and the teasing.

He wasn't feeling tired, but he was beaten, and he wanted to fuck her so bad with his mouth, but his cock wasn't giving him any break and he was about to lose his mind. He saw her looking for a condom and (Y/N) saw his eyes sparkling with the view of her gently teasing while wrapping his dick in such an easy way. James cupped her face with both hands before laying on top of her, leaving wet kisses on her neck, collarbone, while he was using his metal hand to masturbate her clit in slow moves, causing her to shiver under him.

Bucky didn't know much about every sex moves, but he knew women could never be able to start all the fun without some handjob. The cold touch of his fingers made the journalist spasm and the kitty noises she was making let Barnes in ecstasy. The man slid two fingers next to her hole and started moving them up and down, feeling her waist move rhythmically along with his touch. She arched her back when she felt one of the cold finger enter her without a warning his boner grew eager for her. James pulled off and tasted her juices, putting his fingers in his mouth and holding his cock before entering her. Even the slight sensation on the tip made him heave loudly watching both of their cunts pulse.

He buried his entire dick before getting out of her and the way she was burning under him made him realize it wouldn't take long for him to come for her. "Fuck, what an embarrassment", he thought. He buried himself again with slow movements and held his weight on his forearm before leaning on to kiss her with passion. His thrusts were slow and the feeling of her walls embracing his cock made him throb inside her and she let out a loud moan into his lips, which made him moan louder along with her.

Bucky didn't know how fast he could go because that wouldn't be enough for him, and that tight grip around him was making his brain collapse. The sound of his skin slapping her stomach was echoing inside the bedroom and he was already feeling his body all sweaty. Guess he would have to shower after all.

(Y/N) wrapped her legs around his waist and Barnes kept his lips on her skin, tracing every inch of her until he kept his gaze at her. His eyes were sparkling from pleasure and his groans made her tremble inside, completely out of breath. She grabbed the sheet under her when he, without a warning, devoured one of her nipples with such lust, nibbling it.

"Oh, Bucky-", she snapped under him, louder than the thunder and he throbbed inside of her.

"I'm not gonna last longer", he said, his voice completely raspy and desperate as she nodded in agreement. She wouldn't either, so it was fine.

"Fuck, this is so good", he mumbled while still sucking on her nipple. His thrusts became more and more avid as she tried to control her breath. Her clit started to get swollen as she felt the wave of pleasure hit her like a train wreck. Her spasms were involuntary as she tried to catch her breath, looking at the way Bucky hit her walls.

The soldier held her waist with both hands and fucked her hard feeling dizzy when he felt his cum warming his own cock.

"Fuck, God", he proclaimed as he felt his body weigh himself while his dick was still twitching inside her. He smiled at her, who returned the act and rubbed his hair. Watching him cuddle her after getting himself out.

She kissed his forehead with tenderness before nesting his head on her shoulder.

"Thank you, for everything", he cupped her face with his flesh hand and planted a kiss on her lip. "Especially for taking care of me", he said.

Barnes gave her a sweet smile and wrapped his hand around hers, getting under the sheets before getting comfortable and rest.

[unofficialadamtaurus]

FINALLY HAVE TIME TO READ AGAIN LETS FUCKING GO EPILOGUE!!

holy SHIT you weren’t kidding when you said this one was all about the vibes! Which is like my absolute FAVORITE thing about your work. legit the first paragraph already had me like 🫨 and I AM FUCKING LIVING for all the details that just add more to Adam. it is EVERYTHING!!

the whole description of mine #9 is amazing!! the sounds, the lighting, the weather, the state it’s in??? for real you just have this way with presenting a scene and setting that is 😩 SO GOOD.

His palms twinged and he gingerly tugged off his gloves. On his palms, up his fingers, and even across the backs of his hands lingered silvery bands of scar tissue from that foolish attempt to escape. He couldn't even remember the reason for the argument with his parents that had prompted him to run; he only remembered the pain in his hands and his father yanking him down to cover moments before a spotlight swept over where he had been. He remembered, too, his mother cleaning and wrapping his wounds with tears shining in her eyes.

GODDAMN first memory in and I’m already emotional. that memory is so fucking poignant

“Come," he told the wolves, and though his voice shook his will did not.

THAT IS FUCKING HYPE

And seriously I gotta it again because holy SHIT I LIVE for how everything is presented

THIS PART ESPECIALLY

He turned from the main path onto the smaller one splitting between the faunus dorms. He paused at the second building on the left. Its back half had collapsed, but the doorway remained—though the door itself hung crooked on its hinges and had gotten stuck in the ground.

If he looked, and he could not bring himself to do so, he'd find a series of scratches in the metal frame, each one labeled with initials. His height, the heights of other children who had grown up and died here.

He closed his eyes. Beneath the wind, there were echoes: conversations too distant to remember more than the hum of voices, sharp peals of laughter, and encouragement for the weary.

When all of that resolved into a sharp shout to get back to work, Adam opened his eyes. His gaze dropped automatically to the scratches and for the first time he saw that three of the height markings formed a distinct symbol, disguised amid the rest.

JFC LEGIT one of my favorite moments in HP right there. oh my god it is constant gut punches reading this part, and the mix of describing his memories and the scenery is v well done!

The woman hadn't realized Adam was listening. She probably would have regretted putting the idea in his head if she had. Gods knew she would regret what he became.

GOD MY FUCKING CHEST HURTS

"I'd ask forgiveness," he told the roses, "but I think I've done the unforgiveable."

UGHH god that line but also THEY’RE ROSES. THE FLOWERS SHE GREW WERE FUCKING ROSES I-😭

These roses were only out of control because he, in his cowardice, had refused to return. The least he could do was bleed as he made his apology.

STOOOPPPPP IT GUY. HE IS SOOOOO IWBZSUWBVSUBWBWKB

He traced those names with his fingers. The stonemason he'd commissioned had looked at him with such pity when he made his request. The first names without last names, the blank spaces, the names he knew he hadn't recalled correctly, every single one a story cut short.

This was a flawed memorial. It was also the only one he had. His attempts to track down records, personnel lists, company documentation—all had ended in failure. No one had bothered keeping a record of the faunus who had lived and died here. Their ghosts were his and his alone.

GODDD. Like I just know he carried that the whole time. How he went searching for info. In every mission, every win or loss in the WF ughh 🤧

His sorrow and nostalgia here are so heart wrenching. Just how and what he lost is really put into detail and it fucking HURTS. and he still wants to do good, and he now fully believes he CAN now 😭😭

My guy I fuckin' salute you for making it all the way through to the end and giving me these top-tier reactions the whole time. The fact that the vibes in the epilogue came through crystal-clear to you puts a huge smile on my face.

It was very satisfying for me to have one chapter at the end of Hollow People to actually give Adam a backstory and - even if it's belated - kind of bring things full circle for him. His history's alluded to throughout the story, you get a pretty good idea of it from the way he acts and thinks, but he's actually kind of a black box...right up until the epilogue. And that's when you can look back and see his perspective so much more clearly (at least when he's not sleep deprived and trying to murder his ex).

It's an ending that I hope leaves you feeling as bittersweet as hopeful.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Thanks to @rain-on-kamino for the tag! Also, I feel like I need to apologize for the lack of fics. I haven't realized how few I've written this year.

Touch (OC x OC)

Juliana had a complicated relationship with touch.

In her life before, she had very limited experience with it. Her father was absent through most of her childhood. Her mother, while never explicitly cruel, could often be cold. Even her brother, as affectionate as he was, didn’t give her much more than a squeeze on the shoulder.

She was taught to keep her hands to her side or clasped in front of her. Distance was a sign of respect. She was above them. They could not touch her.

2. Strange Things Can Happen (OC x OC)

Juliana took a careful sip of her drink as she watched Finn make his rounds about the room. 

He had finished his set and as per usual took the time to scrounge any extra coin he could from the patrons.  This took the form of charming smiles, flirtatious winks and occasionally lending an ear to anybody who cared to bend it. He was currently engaged in the latter, listening intently to an older man while occasionally scribbling something down in his journal. 

In these moments she couldn’t help but admire him. There was no performance when he wrote. Every glance and laugh was genuine as his face lit up with inspiration. It was endearing. 

3. The Price of Love: Part 2 (OC x OC)

It was amazing how being clean could make one feel like a whole person again, Juliana mused as she dried her hair out with a fresh towel. 

The bath had done her good. It was as if her whole body had finally been given permission to relax, easing away the tension of months spent on the road. Rivers and streams did the job well enough, but a real basin with boiling water beat it every time. 

4. The Price of Love: Part 1 (OC x OC)

Finn let out a sigh of relief as he and Lana finally stumbled into their room. 

The journey to the port city had been long and, for the last mile, rain soaked. 

The road had turned into a small river, leaving him to wonder how they hadn’t drowned by the time they reached the tavern. Still they managed and all he could think about was drying his clothes and getting something warm in his stomach. 

5. A Lady in Disguise and Her Dashingly Handsome Bard Companion (OC x OC)

Juliana blinked awake and immediately regretted it. That brief glimpse of light was enough to make her head spin and her stomach right along with it.

She needed food. The sooner something was in her, the sooner it would be out again along with the lingering alcohol poisoning. 

6. One Day I'll Hate You (Goncharov x Reader) (yes I did hop on the hype train)

You thought you were free. You thought Italy meant a new life, away from the turmoil and freezing unforgiving nature of your home country. Here everything was supposed to be warm rolling hills and a fresh start. And yet here you were stuck in a city just as dirty, sequestered in a kitchen just as small, while a man you prayed your left behind ate in the other room.

7. Will You Miss Me? (Hob Gadling x Reader)

Robert Gadling woke that morning unsure if he had dreamed.

He remembered the early haze, moments just before the sun peaked over the horizon when the sky faded from inky black to a teasing blue. 

He saw her at the window. At least, he thought he did. The shape of her formed in his mind, but no details came.

8. Naked Hands (Din Djarin x Reader)

This was proof you needed better gloves. The ones you had were fine for metal work, but the precise nature of wiring couldn’t be done with such a bulky set.

Your fingers were still numb, but the throbbing in your hand served as a reminder they wouldn’t stay that way for long. Small blessings, still the open cut and small burns were nothing to sneeze at.

9. A Bit Cliche (But in a Good Way) (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

God you hated running. This wasn’t part of your job description. You were the guy in the chair. Running and shooting were for other people, but you didn’t get nice things. They just had to have a closed network and you just had to hack into their serves in person. And of course the alarm was sounded just as you finished downloading the last of the information. Of course Sam had said it was best you split up pulling the goons chasing you in two different direction. Just your luck you’d find yourself alone with Bucky Barnes in the absolute worse case scenario. You were so scared for your life, you couldn’t even take the opportunity to properly admire his ass as you ran a pace behind him.

10. No Use Crying Over Spilled Orange Juice (Bruce Banner x Reader)

You were staring. You knew you were staring. You were standing in a dark kitchen, illuminated only by the light of the refrigerator, staring at a spilled bottle of orange juice at your feet.

Your whole body when stiff. Every bone ached as your muscles pulled and pushed with the urge to scream. Pressure was building behind your eyes and you knew you were about ten seconds away from a fully on melt down. God, what were you, four?

Creator Self-Promotion

Rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics you posted. If you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

"But K, I don't write but I still create can I still play?"

Post your last 10 pieces and give us a play by play. What was the inspiration? Any fun facts you can share with us?

Anyway let's get on with it

1. Fishing for Compliments - Merman!Crosshair x F!Reader

A sigh passed the young woman’s lips as the sun began to disappear beneath the waves. The waves rocked her quaint vessel as if it were a mother soothing her child. Her meal as well as a plate of identical food remained untouched as she kept her gaze to the depths. Every ripple of its surface a reminder of the mounting minutes that her company kept her waiting.

2. Drop Me a Line - Wrecker x F!Reader

The young woman stifled a yawn as she continued to work the mass of dough to her standards to be plopped into pans to bake. She continued working the dough sparing glances to the chrono on the wall as the sky outside began to lighten with the sunrise. Her pulse spiked when the chrono was checked again. She abandoned the lump of dough as she snatched up a pastry box. The bell chiming as the door opened and closed.

3. Budding Romance - Rex x F!Reader

“And you’re sure you’ll have them there.”

“A bit of faith would be nice, Anakin.”

4. Skin in the Game - Wrecker x OC (Rina) (18+ Please view responsibly)

Wrecker was on the hunt. Thankfully the Marauder held only a few spaces to hide away as he searched the ship. His target tucked away by the sensors. Vibroblade twirling between his fingers while his idle gaze stared at the screen. The demolitions expert took a breath, hoping to find answers.

5. Hair Support - Tup x Reader

The days of the Clone Wars tended to drag on in between assignments. Thankfully, the Republic saw it fit to dispatch your research team with a clone legion escort to ensure the lush jungle planet would not eat you and your colleagues alive. It was in the sweltering heat of the afternoon that one of your study binges was interrupted. You shook your head knowing who dared tread into your tent.

6. Interrogations - Echo x F!Reader (18+ Please view responsibly)

The former arc trooper sighed. Another fruitless attempt at slipping free of his bonds. The chair he was bound to chilled any amount of exposed skin. The room kept dark to prevent him from gathering his bearings. He bided his time, waiting for the tell-tale clicking of his keeper. It was a whisper at first but grew louder as the automatic doors parted.

7. Personal Tastes - Hunter x F!Reader

Strands of meat sizzled and spat as she flipped the tangled mass. Her work distracting from the pair of eyes watching you from the doorway. Her culinary tasks from the staccato chops of a knife to peppers to the accented clink of a mortar and pestle offered a calming tune.

8. Just This Once, Everyone Lives - Rex x Reader

Your bottom lip remained captured between your teeth as the speeder came to a stop. The building looming over the city streets twinkled in the night. A beacon for personnel to gather while dressed to the nines. A hand curled around yours, smoothing over your knuckles.

9. Keep Away - UniversityAU Wrecker x Reader

You filed out with your fellow undergrads as your last class for the afternoon let out. the professor's voice offering mention of the end of the first sprint. You traversed amongst the student body's current before veering off to a corridor. The current loosening its grasp the closer you ventured toward the sanctuary of paper and ink.

10. Nothing Fight - Crosshair x F!Reader

It could be easy to say Clone Force 99 had a culture separate from the sea of clones. Clone medics would be reassigned in the blink of an eye and nat born medics often assigned whoever pissed off the higher ups. This led to your current long term assignment. Having a medic on board being the main reason one of your patients was released to his squad early pending observations.

NPT - @photogirl894 @rain-on-kamino @tecker @techs-stitches @littlemissmanga @annwayne @fakegingerrights @merkitty49 @moodymisty @starrylothcat

Wanna promote your work here too? Do it!

[buckybarnesdiaries]

white wolf: “the show must go on”

first part — second part

third part — fourth part (soon)

© gif credits to the author, i found it on google. if you're the author lemme know your @.

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it’s a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 1'9k.

warnings/tags: none. bucky being so innocent gives me life. + he being so damn cute as always.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Have plans with your girl tonight?”

Bucky clicked his tongue, putting down the weight to the holder, not turning to Sam still doing squats and an awkward noise out of breath. His partner couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and giggle while shaking his head, fast enough to steal the soldier's clean towel before he reached it.

“She's not my girl”.

“Not yet, you mean, uh?” He joked then, using the clothing like a whip to hit the metal arm. “But, you have plans or not?”

“Yeah, we have plans”. Bucky admitted eventually, glancing at Sam also stealing his bottle of water. “She invited me to watch a movie”.

It was the innocent and unworried tone of voice from him that made Sam choke, cough, and laugh at once.

“What?”

“Oh, man… Can't believe you're sinful enough to do what we do but too innocent to not see what that means”.

“It means we're gonna watch a movie”.

Bucky was confused at the laughter, trying to understand what he was referring to as he rested his back against the wall and crossed both arms over his chest. Expecting anything else from his wise friend.

“This is the twenty-first century, you ancient. We don't watch movies”.

“What d— What do you mean? You have Netflix, HBO, Prime Video… What's the point?”

Sam was deadpanned, staring in silence at the soldier, not believing what his ears were hearing. “We, guys, don't watch movies with girls, even less when they are the ones inviting us”.

Bucky squinted at him, tilting his head like a lost poppy would do, not being able to read between lines. His partner gasped exasperated, running a hand up and down his face.

“You know, man? Sometimes I feel alone, not having anyone to laugh with about that forties' manners of yours. Should I call Sarah, maybe?”

“Cut the show”. He hissed standing up and passing him away.

“Oh, no, no, no… the show has just started, man, and I have my popcorn ready”.

Bucky had been beating around the bush the whole day, trying to let it out of his mind. Of course, it was something that would happen sooner or later, and —more than of course— he wanted it to happen. The mere fact of thinking about you and him, flesh against flesh, hearing you moaning his name and making you feel good caused him goosebumps and an awkward sensation beneath his black jeans. Suddenly, swallowing saliva turned impossible, biting his lower lip while ringing the intercom of your apartment. Your response didn't last more than a couple of seconds, opening the door downstairs and waiting for him at the entrance of your apartment.

The butterflies fluttered within your bellies when Bucky stepped out of the lift, showing you that charming smile that could make you kill anyone who dared to erase it from his face.

“Trying to get me drunk?” You joked as he raised the bottle of red wine in his left hand.

“Maybe?”

“Missed you today”. You whispered at the soft kiss on your lips and his arm getting wrapped around your lower waist.

“So did I”. He sighed, sounding a little tired, caressing your nose with his.

Yesterday he talked to you about a routine medical check-up the government used to do every six months until he earned his pardon. Four hours of intense exercise to make sure the supersoldier serum was still doing its effect, as he started to feel somewhat tired since he stayed in Wakanda. For Bucky, it was really easy to open up himself with you and talk about his past and some of the things he did. And he didn't complain when you helped him to take off his leather jacket, watching him rubbing his left shoulder.

“I, uh… also was this morning with Sam. Training”. He told you, following you to your kitchen to find a couple of glasses. Turning at him, you couldn't help but raise an incredulous eyebrow. “Don't look at me like that… I know to perfection what you're thinking”.

“You're a telepath now?”

“God, no. I have enough with the voices inside my head, to hear someone's else”. He chuckled resting against the fridge. “But you're very expressive and I was trained to read body language”.

“So, what am' thinking?” You asked driven by curiosity, entertained on opening the bottle of wine.

“Look at this guy… He looks hotter than a barbecue”.

You broke into a loud laugh, shaking your head as you grabbed the drink and the glasses. “Not even close, Sergeant”.

“Liar”. He blurted into your face, passing him away to the living room where the Thai takeaway was waiting for the two of you.

“I'm not lying! You're a lousy body reader”.

“So… you can do it better, uh?”

“Didn't say so, but… yeah”. You replied, placing the wine and the glasses on the coffee table next to the big green sofa.

“Okay, go ahead. What am 'thinking, genius?”

Standing in front of him, some inches away, you squinted at his eyes in advance of touring his posture from top to bottom with your orbs.

“Look at that girl… she's hotter than a volcano”.

“Not even closer, soldier”. Bucky repeated your words, kissing his teeth and causing you to laugh again.

“Liar”.

The night went on, enjoying your dinner and watching the first part of Scary Movie. Since Bucky told you that he loved the horror genre, you thought that it'd be a good start. As you finished the Thai dishes, you two cuddled on your sofa, and it felt nice to be embraced by his muscly arms and had your head rested on his shoulder. He had never been that happier before, imagining for a moment —staring at you by the corner of his eyes— that he wasn't a retired lethal assassin controlled by a bunch of psychos, just a guy watching a movie with his girl.

For some reason that increased his pulse, having to clear his throat as the thought dried it. You couldn't let it go, wrinkling your nose with curiosity, raising your face slightly at Bucky trying to focus on the movie, and pretending everything was going okay.

“What?” He murmured about to laugh nervously, putting his head back a couple of inches to look better at you.

“Seems like you're gonna have a heart attack, what's the matter?”

The soldier breathed heavily through his nostril, expelling all the air in a sight through his parted lips. A lower giggle escaped them as your eyes widened a little more interested in his response to your question.

“Sam… Sam said something this morning”.

There it was. Your grimace turned skeptical, sitting up to borrow the control remote and pause the movie. Turning to face him and placing an arm on the headrest, you puckered your lips in a funny gesture watching him click his tongue.

“Things are different nowadays and… y'know, we used to watch movies”.

“And that's what we're doing”.

“Yeah, but… it's like… now there are some kinds of non-speak social rules”.

You knew exactly what he was referring to and seeing him somewhat troubled and tense just made your heart melt. It wasn't that he was scared, but it almost felt like.

“Is it your first time since the forties?” You dared to ask, clearly with no intentions of making fun of him.

“I've never really… y'know, I was in my twenties when I left Brooklyn. I me— mean, 'm not stupid, okay? I've done things but not… sex like… to the whole point”. Bucky didn't have his eyes on you when he made that confession, rubbing the bridge of his nose by inertia as his nervousness increased. “And now everything… is pretty different”.

“It doesn't have to”. You just replied, stretching a hand to his right one to intertwine your fingers. “Listen, Buck… We don't have to, okay? We don't have to do anything if you're not ready. We can watch the movie and then… you can go, or you can stay to sleep with me”.

“I'd like that”.

“Leave?”

“Yeah, totally, if you excuse me, ma'am… I gotta leave” He clearly joked, about to stand up until you pushed him down to the sofa bursting in laughter. “Nah, I, uh… I mean, I'd like to sleep with you tonight”.

“I'd like too, and to wake up tomorrow morning with you”.

“Yeah, would be very awkward if you go to sleep with me and wake up with another guy in your bed”.

Bucky smirked at you, biting his upper lip before leaning to press both on yours. He couldn't believe you were being so comprehensive with him, not making any other uncomfortable questions, nor kicking his ass out of your house. At that moment, he realized he was madly in love with you, bringing you closer to himself so he could embrace you tenderly between his arms. And you let him, not wanting anything else than to be with him.

At the moment the movie finished, you both stretched your hands to the ceiling with a yawn opening your mouths. You palmed his thigh to beckoning at him, urging the soldier to follow you as you rubbed your eyes using your knuckles, a little sleepy. Turning off the lights on your way to your room, you changed your clothes for a baggy Iron Maiden's t-shirt, as he stripped himself leaving his clothes on the chair in front of your bed, only wearing a pair of black boxers at the end.

You were about to ask him which side he preferred when the words died on your tongue, glancing at him with his flesh hand over his dark grey shoulder. It was the first time you saw the vibranium arm in all its glory and Bucky gave you the impression of being embarrassed. He'd never stop surprising you with plenty of emotions for things that for you didn't have any importance actually —like the fact of not having two real arms.

“Come here”. You murmured, kneeling on the mattress and palming the other lateral, observing every one of his actions till lying next to him, in the middle of the gloom of your room.

Covering both of you with the sheets and turning on your sides to face each other, Bucky took the initiative of wrapping you close to his chest, as he placed his head on your pillow. He couldn't help but take a soft breath from your heavenly smell impregnated in, provoking a smile to grow on your lips. Surrounding his neck with your arms, you sunk your fingers in his short hair, gently caressing his scalp while you started to spread tender short kisses all around his face.

“This feels good”. He purred with such a pleased tone of voice, closing his eyes as he adventured his warm hand under your shirt to draw invisible patterns on your back.

“So good”. You affirmed, peppering his cheek with a bunch of noisy smooches.

Bucky squeezed you between his grip, hiding his face into the gap of your shoulder and neck, causing you goosebumps because of his exhalation against your skin. He was comfortable being that close, with no distance separating your chests and your legs intertwined in a bundle. You saw how relaxed he was when he pulled his head back to the pillow, noses touching and his eyelids closed.

“Good night, Buck”. You whispered, still feeling his caresses on your back, leaning to kiss him one last time.

“Good night, doll”.

a / n: i hope you have enjoyed the fluffiness of these three chapters because the fourth is gonna be... chaotic.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

and support writers with a REBLOG!!! 🤍

tag list: @whatrambles @phoenixhalliwell @homesicam @marvel-diaries @amelia-song-pond @heartbeats-wildly @met4no1a @weenersoldierr @petlaufeyson @sillygamingartghost @wildflowergubler @isnt-it-loverly @zealouspursecowboydeputy @rvgrsbrns @artisancowbells @plagooey @tinylumpiaa @hemsbucky @bxmaaa @quxxnxfhxll @soldierstucky @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @hateinthemorning @asemistablehundredyearoldman @purpleelfwizard @twinerd14 @nikkixostan @stolenxkissess @wintersfilm @whoreforsamwilson @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm @baconmuffins1216 @28cnn @hxlyhoax @lieswithoutfairytales @angrybirdxx @clownerlyluv @kait-is-always-late @marvel-ousnesss @natashadeservedbetter @ebxny27 @fanofalltheficsx @spider-man-lover @masterlists101 @lewd-alien @warm-sensations @stealapizzamyheart @talk-on-the-street @theresnoplatypus

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 15

Request: Yes or No

Nebula and Tonys friendship was v cute and we deserved to see Tony be a dad to her. This feels v short so I'm sorry

~

"Maybe some company will do you good, (Y/N)." Natasha said softly, rubbing your arm. You stayed silent, staring at the table. Rhodes had offered you your old room back but you couldn't give him an answer. Your gaze shifted to the glass of water, brows furrowing when the water in the glass began to move. Natasha followed your gaze.

"I'm not doing that." You said softly, glancing at her. Steve entered the room, heading towards the exit.

"Something's coming." He called. Rhodes and Bruce quickly followed him out. You stood up, doing the same. You walked out onto the field, seeing Pepper staring up at a ship. You watched the woman set it down, looking back at you all. Steve ran forward, helping Tony off the ship. Pepper sobbed, running forward as well. You turned, walking back towards the facility.

"Great, the douchebag survived." You muttered, opening the door and sitting back down. You knew loss would come with trying to save the world but you didn't expect to lose everyone you loved. Clint and Natasha were still around but they were grieving as well.

"(Y/N), this is Carol Danvers, a friend of Fury." Natasha said as she entered the room. You turned to look at the blonde, giving a small nod. You watched as Rhodes pulled up images of everyone who had been lost to catch Tony up. Your gaze dropped onto the table when you saw your friends images appear.

"World governments are in pieces. He did.. He did exactly what he was planning to do. He wiped out.. 50 percent of all living creatures." Natasha explained, voices getting softer. You took in a shakey breath, sitting up and glancing at everyone. You made eye contact with Tony. He was skinny and weak but he held sadness in his eyes.

"Is Barton..?" Tony trailed off.

"Clint survived... Laura and the kids are gone." You told him, voice threatening to crack. Tony inhaled deeply, nodding.

"Where is Thanos? Where is he now?" Tony asked, looking at Steve. Steve frowned.

"We don't know. He just.. Opened a portal and walked through." Steve said, staring down at the floor. Tony hummed, turning to look at Thor.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's pissed. He thinks he failed. Which, yeah he did but so did the rest of us." The talking raccoon, Rocket, said. You didn't have enough energy to question how a raccoon ended up in space, much less question how it could talk.

"Honestly, until this exact last second, I thought you were a build-a-bear." Tony said, looking at him.

"Maybe I am." Rocket muttered in a tired and defeated tone.

"Thanos has been missing for three weeks now. We've got nothing. Tony, you fought him."

"Who told you that? No, he wiped my face with a planet while the magician gave away the stone. That's what happened. There was no fight-"

"Okay, okay.. Did he give you any clues?" Steve asked. Tony blew some raspberries, shrugging. You sighed at his childish response.

"I had a vision. I didn't want to believe it.. Thought I was dreaming-"

"Tony, I need you to focus."

"-And I needed you. As in past tense. That trumps what you need. You know what I need?" Tony knocked over some glasses, standing up from his wheelchair. "I need to shave."

"Tony, Tony, stop." Rhodes approached him as Tony ripped off his IV needle.

"What we needed was a suit of armour around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not." Tony looked over everyone.

"Your project got Sokovia destroyed and ruined." You reminded him, finger running over the rim of the glass cup. Tony began stumbling as he argued with Steve, stumbling towards him. He ripped off the Arc reactor, putting it in Steve's hand before falling to the ground. He fainted afterwards so Rhodes and Steve got him to the medical unit.

"This is such a shitshow. I'm going home." You said, standing up and picking up the glass. Natasha turned towards you.

"Stay for a little longer-"

"For what? So I can be told nothing's gonna bring back by family? My best friends? I had nothing then I had something and now I have nothing again." You flinched when the cup shattered, pieces of glass and water landing on the ground. You sighed softly, taking the shards stuck in your skin out.

"Sorry. I'll clean this up." You mumbled, using your other hand to get the water off the floor. Carol blinked, watching in surprise. You opened one of the cabinets, pulling out the first aid kit. You turned your head when Carol stood beside you.

"Hey." You breathed out, running your hand under water to wash away some of the blood. Carol picked up the antibiotic cream, using a cotton ball to dab it onto your cuts. You didn't really feel like healing yourself.

"I'm sorry you lost so many people." She said quietly, picking up the bandages and wrapping them around your hand.

"Well, shit happens." You looked at your bandaged palm, sighing softly.

"I lost two best friends." Carol said, leaning against the counter.

"Nick and Monica, the daughter of a good friend." Carol looked at you, arms crossing.

"Sams' sister calls nonstop and I don't know what to tell her. She has two toddlers, both parents passed away, and she's a widow. How can I tell her that her older brother turned into dust and I couldn't do anything to save him? Dad and I can't even look at each other without noticing how empty the house feels. I wake up everyday hoping it was all a nightmare but then I don't hear Laura telling the kids to get up or Clint going on about teaching Lila archery." You looked away from her, eyes watering. Carol placed a gentle hand on your arm, giving it a light squeeze.

"You did what you could. What you have to do now is be there for the people who are still here. Your friends sister needs you. She needs someone familiar. Someone close to Sam and someone who was there in his last moments." Carol said, watching you.

"You'll never get back up if you keep knocking yourself down." She said softly. You let out a shakey sigh, nodding and sniffling. Carol offered you a napkin, patting your back before she walked away. You wiped away your tears and splashed some water on your face, patting your face dry. You turned and grabbed the broom and collector, taking care of the glass. You put the first aid kit away as Carol re-entered the room with Natasha and Steve following.

"Hey, we usually do things as a team here." Natasha said as Carol spun around to look at her.

"We realize up there is your territory but this is our fight too." Steve added.

"Do you even know where he is?" Rhodes asked, head tilting. Carol shrugged lightly.

"I know people who might."

"Don't bother." You looked at the blue android girl, Nebula.

"I can tell you where Thanos is." She revealed. The humans glanced at each other before gathering in the office to hear what she had to say. You leaned against the doorway, semi interested.

"Thanos spent a long time trying to perfect me. When he worked he talked about his great plan. Even disassembled I wanted to please him.. I'd ask where we would go once his plan was complete. His answer was always the same." Nebula turned her head to look at everyone. "To the garden."

"That's cute. Thanos has a retirement plan." Rhodes mumbled as Rocket climbed onto the table, making a hologram of Earth appear.

"When Thanos snapped his fingers, Earth became ground zero for ridiculously high cosmic proportions. Nobody's ever seen anything like it." Rocket said, making the hologram change to a different planet.

"Until two days ago on this planet." Rocket motioned to the planet shown. Nebula nodded, leaning forward.

"He used the stones again." Natasha whispered. Everyones attention shifted onto the planet.

"You can count me out. I have a therapy session soon." You called, turning around and walking down the steps.

"You go to therapy?" Rhodes asked, brows furrowing as he turned to face you.

"Yeah, it's called napping."

~~~~~~~~~~

You entered the house, taking in a deep breath. Neither you or Clint dared clean up the place. Everything was left exactly how it had been left after Thanos snapped his fingers. You entered the livingroom, gaze landing on the metal on the ground. You sighed softly, picking up the monitor. Clint had broken it. Clint not following the rules of his house arrest was probably the least of the governments problems. You tossed it onto the couch, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge.

"Beer, beer, beer, leftovers, beer." You mumbled as you sorted through the fridge. You shut the fridge, looking at the drawings and pictures pinned to it with magnets. You swallowed, leaving the kitchen. You stepped over the Legos on the ground, going to the front door. You watched as Clint drew an arrow, shooting it at a target in the distance. All Clint did was practice. Probably to get his mind off things.

"Should I head into town for food?" You called out. Clint stayed silent so you took it as a no. You took out your phone, looking at the contact.

Sarah Wilson

You watched it ring, guilt creeping into your heart. You sighed, licking your lips and answering.

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank god! I've been trying to reach you for the past few weeks. I haven't heard anything yet about Sam and the others. How is Sam? Is he with you?"

"Sam.." You started, biting down on your lip as you shut your eyes. You let out a heavy sigh, taking a seat on the stairs.

"I should explain everything in person, Sarah. I'm not gonna make you wait until I get to Louisiana. Sam.. He, uh.. He didn't make it. I'm s-sorry." You sniffled, hearing a soft gasp leave Sarah.

"Oh, God.." She whispered.

"I-I'll stop by. I tell you everything but.. Sam.. Sam was a hero until the end." You said softly, hearing the kids in the background. You were relieved she wasn't completely alone.

"C-Could you just stay with me on the phone?" Sarah asked softly.

"Yeah, of course." You replied, answering her softly cry.

"What the hell am I gonna do now? Half the folks in town are gone and.." Sarah sniffled. You listened to her soft sniffles and sobs, sighing softly.

"I'm not gonna leave you, Sarah. Sam would have my head if I did." You smiled softly, hearing her chuckle.

"Thank you."

[palbabor-writes]

OK so please consider typical Shig/reader where theres unspoken mutual attraction and they're not quite together but it's Post-kamino Shig, like IMMEDIATE post-kamino where he's still processing and incredibly vulnerable from just losing his sensei. I've had this in my head for a while but IDK how it would go and I think you'd do it justice (just ignore this if u don't wanna i just needed to put it out there 😌)

ugh, i loved this idea. where do you find them lydia? they just live in your mind rent free and i want to go to there. gosh, thank you for the ask.

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT, NSFW/18+ only, mild angst, pivotal life moments, TW: drinking/drug use, masturbation, blow jobs, face fucking, spanking/mild pain play, vaginal fingering, cunniliginus, overstimulation, switching, dirty talk, loss of virginity (if you squint), dominance, vaginal sex     

Word Count: 11,800

Notes: oh man. so, if the word count didn’t give it away, this is plot, with a hefty dose of porn. in my mind, this is all part of the grieving process for shigaraki and he’s having a rough time coming to terms with what he’s needing to do. yeah, AFO supported him and enabled him to build a following, but he also hid all of the major pieces from him (i.e. the doctor & gigantomachia) so i can see him mourning for AFO as a teacher & as a psudo loved one, after all, at the end of that chapter he’s clutching those hands to him like he’ll fall apart without them. 

Edited by the lovely Lydia: @kugutsuu. she is the best and if you’re not reading her works, all I have to say is: YOU SHOULD BE. 

Mise en Place

/mē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs/ noun or verb  a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place.”

This has got to be the strangest, hole in the wall, bar you’ve ever worked at. 

The patrons are touchy and most seem downright dangerous. The whole lot of them are more like mid level criminals than the usual haggard, overworked, regular, citizens you find in local watering holes.  Meanwhile, the gentleman who runs the day to day operations shares more similarities with a will o’ the wisp than a man, and the bar itself is smack dab in one of the seediest parts of town. 

The liquor selection, however, is top of the line. Some of the labels you haven’t seen outside of posh hotels or high class country clubs, and many of the older bottles are rarities. Honestly, there are so many of the high brow bottles that you’re not sure who to ask about the rail selection. There’s no real order to the place and it’s the most free reign you’ve ever been given with your mixology experiments. There’s not even a listing of drinks to go off of. But, if the disgruntled evening crowd is happy, then so is the upper management. All they ask is that you lock up before you leave.

No, nothing about this place makes sense. But, it does pay well and, right now, that’s the only thing you need to worry about.

There’s one other barkeep, a stogy man named Akio. He usually works the day shift, but late yesterday afternoon, he’d given you a call and asked if the two of you could swap for the duration of next week. At first, you’d balked, worried you’d need to schmooze with an unfamiliar bunch of regulars, who’d then decline to tip simply because you were new. But, Akio had sweetened the pot with the promise of $20,000 yen, so, you’d agreed. 

“It’s fairly quiet in the afternoon,” Akio reassured you. “It’s really just putting away shipment and serving the odd customer who happens to pass by. The only thing...well, I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve been working there for over a month, no way you could miss him.” 

“Who?” you ask, twirling your spoon in your mid-morning coffee, curious, but not wanting to seem overly eager in your questioning. You like your night shift and you’re not wanting this to become a regular swap. You detest having to lug heavy boxes to and fro, pulling liquor and checking lot numbers, ick. Plus, if it really is that slow in the afternoons, it would only be a matter of time before Kurogiri would come after you with a duster and ask you to clean the upper shelves. Yeah, no, thanks. This would be a one week deal, ONLY.

“His name is Shigaraki. He’s, er, different. I suppose you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already.”

“Shigaraki? No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he--”

“I have to go, my son is here. Thanks again for the swap and talk soon, (Y/N).”

The line clicks and you let your phone fall from your ear, clattering the metal and plastic along your kitchen table. Shigaraki, you think, taking a scalding sip of your coffee, no, that’s not a name you’ve heard before. Wonder what it is about him that has Akio so on edge. It’s not like him to give you, er, whatever that strange heads-up had been. Either way, it would take more than a vague descriptor like different, to spook you off. 

******

Akio was right, on all counts, about the haze of monotony that permeated the afternoon shift at the bar. 

Well, right on everything except a sighting of that elusive Shigaraki guy. No, the whole afternoon it’s just been you, Kurogiri, and one, rather sloshed old man, who you’ve long since cut off, and propped at the far end of the bartop. It’s been a dull, slow, day. Thank God you’d taken that extra cash from Akio, or this might not even turn out to be worth your while. 

You’re slipping another bottle of whiskey on the lower shelf when you hear a barstool scrape back. You turn at the sound, your head already lifted and a small, friendly, smile lingering on your lips. There’s a lanky guy, dressed all in black with a mop of wavy white hair, working himself onto the small seat. His head is lowered and he hasn’t bothered to look up at you, not yet, anyway. He looks, not really young, but you can’t tell and you’re not about to let some underaged kid worm his way in here. You’ve had enough of those punks sneaking in in the evening, thank you. 

“Gimme a shot of scotch,” the man says, his voice low, with a quiet rasp racing along the tone. It’s a strange timbre and it makes you pause, your eyes scanning those pearlescent strands of hair that are hiding his face from view.

“Hmph,” you snort, arching a brow at his attempts at concealment. He must be underage, who comes up to a barkeep with a ducked head and demands a scotch? 

“Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t come into a bar and immediately refuse to make eye contact with the bartender. We’re like animals at the zoo, we startle easily and don’t like surprises. And, with your face tucked like that, I can’t gauge your age. So, before I get you that unnamed and unbranded scotch, I’m gonna to need to see some ID.”

The man lifts his head at your preamble and you feel your breath catch at the raw annoyance that’s etched across his scarred and cracked face. His eyes are a rich red, closer to ruby and they latch onto yours, insistent and sharp. It’s a deeply intense stare and you can’t seem to pull yourself away, your brow furrowing at his sudden shift in demeanor. 

“I don’t have an ID,” he snaps, his lips lifting into a snarl, showing you the vivid whiteness of his teeth. 

You lick your lips and his gaze follows the motion, eyes lowering, freeing you from that uneasy imprisonment he’d abruptly ensnared you in.

Your heart is beating rapidly against your throat and you shake your head, refocusing your bewildering reaction to this guy's presence. “I-I haven’t heard that one before,” you say, taking a few steadying breaths and tossing a dirty glass in the dishwasher, looking for any task that will let you step away from this strange interaction. 

“You must be new,” he says, leaning back and hunching those dark shoulders. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and shut the dishwasher door, hitting the button to run a cycle. 

“Nope,” you correct him, pulling out two fresh glasses and lining them up on the bartop, reaching for the rail scotch. “I’ve worked here for over a month.”

“Never seen you before.”

“That makes two of us,” you reply, flipping the bottle up and filling both glasses with four counts of the dark liquor. You press one to him and lift the other for yourself. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks pointedly at the glass in your hands. 

“You supposed to drink on the clock?”

You laugh and he shifts back at the sound, his head bowing forward, another scowl lifting his lips. Realizing you must have made him uncomfortable, you step toward him and clumsily clink your glass against his, tilting your head at the surrealness of this whole conversation. “They don’t really care what I do. Come on, stranger who has no ID, bottoms up.”

He looks from you to the shot a few times before finally relenting and taking the vessel in a strange four fingered grip, his middle finger arched carefully away. Once you’re sure he’s actually going to toast with you, you sling your shot back, enjoying the sharp burn of the rich liquor. 

You’re about to ask your new drinking companion another question when you hear his chair scrape back. By the time you’re stepping toward him, he’s already pacing down a back hallway, blending into the darkness and disappearing from your sight.

“Um! You can’t...I don’t think you can go back there. And you gotta pay, dude! Hey--”

“He doesn’t need to pay.” 

You always hear Kurogiri before you see him and today is no exception. He’s standing at the entrance to the back of the bartop and he’s watching the path the strange young man took, his shifting face turned from you. You cock your head at his assertion and swiftly place your empty glass into the soapy water of the filled sink. He likely saw you take the shot, but you’re not about to leave evidence behind. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, watching as the wisp like man turns and steps toward you, his amber slits watchful. It’s like he’s sizing you up and you shift on your feet, uncomfortable at the frank, open, assessment.  

“He’s Tomura Shigaraki, and he owns this bar.”

******     

You’re off for the next two days and the wait, the silence, is abjectly harrowing. You can’t sit down, can’t relax, can’t focus. The one time you decide to get overly familiar, of fucking course, it would be with the owner. But no one has called, and no one has sent you any messages. The empty static of your job's reticence doesn’t alleviate your nerves. 

Who knows, they might want to act out the sick power play of having you show up for your shift, only be fired as soon as you darken the doorway.

The next afternoon, you take a familiar route to the bar, your feet tapping hollowly along the steps and alleyways that wind to the rusty entrance. You come in the front, blinking against the darkness, and lock the door behind you. Everything is quiet. But, in forty minutes, the open sign will switch on and you need to get your bar set up, plus slap on a little bit of makeup. You’re so lost in thought that you’re almost to the long bartop when you spot him.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki. He’s sitting at the same bar stool and his head turns as you approach, those unearthly red eyes lingering over you. It’s a different look, very, very removed from that harsh glare he’d given you the other day. He looks less hostile and more, well, curious. 

You give him a cursory nod and pad behind the high counter, taking the final glasses out of the dishwasher and removing the stoppers from all the open liquor bottles. He’s still watching you and you can feel his gaze as it bores into your back, your side, your front. You attempt to ignore him, but the constant threat of those insistent red eyes is beginning to frustrate you. Finally, once you’ve replaced the cash drawer, you lift your gaze to his. 

“What is it?” Your voice sounds waspish, but you don’t care.

“Nothing,” he replies, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm, not breaking that unsettling leer. 

“So stop staring at me,” you bristle, unsure why your heart is starting to beat a rapid tattoo against your ribs. You don’t know this guy. Sure, he’s mysterious and almost handsome, in a dark horse kinda way, but there’s no reason for him to give you this odd staredown. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant this attention, well, besides drinking on the job, but he could just fire you for that, if it was so troublesome. Either way, he should either speak up, or knock it off. 

He smirks at your impudence and murmurs a raspy, “No,” back, his head tilting, waiting for your next move. 

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You scoff, crossing your arms and jutting your chin defiantly. 

“Whatever you say,” he breathes, that smile of his deepening, making his vermillion eyes shine. And, just like that, the two of you wander into a stilted game of give and take. 

For the first few days, he makes sure he’s there before you arrive for the last of your afternoon shifts, his dark back already perched over the bartop as you shut the door behind you. Then, when you transition back to the evening shifts, he’s there too, sitting at that familiar perch, his eyes always, always watching, observing. You continue to ignore him and he seems to relish your agitated silence, flashing you dark smirks and quiet laughs.

Finally, two weeks into this stagnated stalemate, you make a point to strike up a real conversation with him. He’s obviously taken aback by your first few questions, his eyes wide and jaw tense, but he plays along. 

Over time, the two of you carefully erect a haphazard friendship. And that chair of his? That center barstool? He used to not mind if another person was sitting in it when he arrived late, but recently that’s all changed. Now he guards it ferociously. Snapping and glaring at anyone who is stupid enough to drift into it. 

Along with the lingering looks and burgeoning, almost flirty, dialogue you’ve pushed him into, he’s also gotten very demanding of your attention. If you spend too much time talking with another customer, or with Kurogiri, he pouts and darkens until you return, his tense form losing that sharpness.  It's almost like he’s got a crush on you, but he’s not sure what to do with the newfound sensation, lost and confounded by your teases and grins. 

Most people, you notice, give him a wide berth, but not you. No, you like his keen wit and heated musings. He’s fascinating and you want to see more. And in his flustered confusion, he lets you lean in, blinking and wide eyed at your open, flagrant interest in him.

******   

As the weeks drift into summer, things start to change at the bar. 

There’s some atypical deposit of power that’s been bestowed upon the place. People you’ve never seen before, begin to frequent the premises, sharing videos and whispered conversations about that man, Chizome Akaguro, better known to the general public as the Hero Killer. 

Tomura flits between several, dark moods, clutching his newly injured shoulder and murmuring complaints about hero society, All Might and the Hero Killer. Apparently, there had been an altercation between the two of them and Tomura didn’t hide his ire, his agitation from you. No, he would vent to you, his voice gravel and ash as he snarled his rage.  

Then, as if things couldn’t get any stranger, one evening a young girl begins to hang around, pestering you for a soda and prattling on and on about blood. Another new guy slips in a few hours later, his skin marred by thick, ragged burns and staples. He’s quiet, rudely demanding a shot and nursing it in a corner, his bright blue eyes flashing as he stares vacantly out at the crowd by the well. 

A quiet man, called Spinner, asks you for a water, and you acquiesce, watching as his green hands wrap around the glass, downing the liquid in a quick gulp. Later, there’s a robust, loud, clearly confused guy, wearing a skin tight black bodysuit loitering by your bartop. He keeps entreating you for a drink, then tells you to buzz off seconds later. Exasperated, you plunk a whole bottle down beside his glass and continue on with your work, ignoring his chatter. 

Finally, a man in a white mask and a top hat rounds out the strange posse and the group gathers together, hovering around Tomura, asking questions and listening to his rasping answers. 

Thankfully, the rag-tag group leaves soon after closing, all of them shouldering their way back out into the night. You shake your head as the door closes behind them, gathering the collection of dirty glasses they left in their wake. Only Tomura remains, sipping meditatively on his drink, his red eyes foggy and unfocused. You know from experience that it’s not a good time to ask him questions, so you continue with your closing duties, keeping your eyes down.

Something is going on, that much is clear. But, unless you could worm the information out of Tomura, you’d likely never fully know all of the details. Part of you warns that it’s likely dangerous. Many of the people who haunt the bar are low level villains or brokers, not a winning combination if you’re wanting to stay out of the fray, and on the right side of the law. 

You finish wiping everything down and return to Tomura, asking him softly if you can wash his empty glass. His eyes lift to yours and the expression that greets you almost makes you want to reach out and cup his cheek. He looks tired, worn thin and so, so needy. You’ve never seen him like this. It almost feels like he’s showing you something he’s never revealed to anyone else, a vulnerability that only you can see. He’s giving you access to a quiet secret that can hang between the two of you, safe in the knowledge that he can trust you with it. That urge to stroke a finger down his roughed brow rises again, but you shove the impulse away, rattled by your sudden, visceral, reaction to him. 

To distract yourself, you snatch up his glass, and turn from the intensity of his stare, a slow prickle of gooseflesh trembling along your skin. As you run hot water and soap over the vessel, you feel your heart begin to pound and you chance another peek at Tomura’s quiet form. As usual, he’s watching you, but he looks unfocused again, that broken vulnerability tucked away. You want to ask him if he’s ok, but before you can croak the words out, he pushes his stool back and paces down the dark hallway, leaving you alone and bewildered. 

******

A few days later, you ask Kurogiri if you can sneak away for a minute, you need a break. The bar has been packed since nine and you could use a quick breather. It’s the first night Tomura hasn’t stopped by and his absence has bothered you. You missed his grumpy quips and his persistent glances. All this time, you’d thought it was just him that was catching any kind of feelings, but it looks like he’s somehow managed to nag his way into your psyche, too. 

You take the back stairs quietly and let yourself out onto the alleyway balcony, climbing the rickety fire escape to the rooftop. You’d found the access to the roof your second week and it’s still your favorite place in the whole bar. On a clear night, you can see all the way to downtown Tokyo. It’s always quiet this high up, tranquil and serene. You brace yourself against the concrete wall and watch the lights of the city glimmer, like distant jewels, in the darkness.

You pull a small joint from your pant pocket and flick your lighter on, setting the edge of the rolling paper alight and taking a slow drag. The inhale fills your lungs with a light pressure and you savor the feeling before blowing a thin line of smoke into the night. You get a few more hits in before you hear the fire escape stairs rattle, signaling that someone is coming your way. You debate dampening your roach, but you don’t want to waste it, so you tuck the smoldering paper in your other hand, maneuvering it out of sight. 

The white shine of his hair always gives him away. 

Tomura hops over the ledge and his eyes are already lifting, searching for yours as he stands. You arch an eyebrow at his tense stance and you can’t help your giddy smile. “Everything ok?” 

“Kurogiri said you were taking a break,” he replies, dipping his long fingers into his pockets and sauntering over to the patch of concrete you’re braced against. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, waiting until he’s closer to lift the joint back to your lips, taking a steadying pull and scooting over, so he can fit beside you on the wall. “It’s busy, and I’ve been slinging drinks all night. Just wanted to decompress for a bit.”

Tomura doesn’t reply, but he does slot himself close, the warmth of his broad shoulder radiating against yours. The two of you drift into a companionable silence, and the only sounds that greet you is the quiet hush of traffic below and your inhales and exhales of smoke. 

“You got another meeting?” you ask, crossing your arms and pressing minutely closer, enjoying the distant shiver Tomura gifts you. 

“No,” he murmurs, his voice low. You think that might be the end of the conversation but he continues a few seconds later, his head tilting toward yours, those red eyes scanning your upturned face. “They’re on a mission. I’m not able to participate. It will need to be like a SIM game. They are the pieces that I’ll move over the board, they’ll act to my battle plan.”

You turn to him, your eyes wide. “So, they’re just...pawns? Little NPC’s that don’t matter?”

Tomura laughs and his teeth gleam in the moonlight and distant shine of the neon lights. “Of course not. Do I look that heartless? No, they’re valuable players and if this goes right, we’ll be able to take on the next level with a decided edge.” 

You let that last comment hover, pausing to take another huff, your eyes lowered, brooding over his words. “So, you’re their vanguard leader?”

“Sure,” Tomura nods, “We can’t keep grinding each mission, hoping to pick up any XP these heroes happen to drop. We need to make waves of our own.”

“Oh? Like the Hero Killer?”

“No,” Tomura snarls, his arm tensing beside yours, a hand rising to scritch at his scarred neck agitatedly. “Nothing like him. We’re looking past him. He was too short sighted, so busy following his own code of justice that he didn’t notice he was breeding more heroes, not putting them down.”

“Hmm,” you sigh, thumping your head lightly against the concrete behind you. “That is true. But, you can’t deny he’s brought up some serious divisions. It’s funny, really. It makes me think of this little hero toy I had when I was younger. 

It was of an older hero, he prolly died long ago, but I loved that toy when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, it stopped mattering and one day, without me even realizing it, it lost its importance entirely. I wonder if hero society will ever shift to that. With the fractures that have been seen at UA and all over Japan, it could be a matter of time before real change starts to happen. Anyway, I wasn’t meaning to grill you on your, uh, projects. I was--”

“What toy?” 

His question nonpluses you and you cock your head, blinking up at his peripheral stare. “Um, I think it was of that fast hero, O’clock. It was my older brothers originally, but he passed it down to me. No idea where it is now. It likely got lost in a move or accidentally left behind.”

Tomura lifts his eyes from yours, his jaw clenching and a slow gulp echoing down his lean throat. You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, fascinated by the movement. That urge to touch him is back and you have to clench your fingers into your palms to quiet it. 

You’re so distracted by your primal reaction to him, that you miss his question and he has to repeat it, his eyes slipping back to yours, the red dark. 

“What?” you ask, blinking against the acuteness of his gaze. 

“Can I take a hit of that?”

“Of what...oh.” You lift the half smoked joint and chuckle at yourself, pressing the smoldering paper toward him. “Sure. You had one before?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, carefully taking the white roach from you and raising it to his chapped lips.

“Go slow,” you warn as he begins to inhale, his eyes drifting to a half mast, concentrating.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pulling a tentative, but heavy, drag into his lungs.

“Fine,” you scoff playfully, “do what you want. But don’t blame me when you’re coughing up a lung.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t heed your advice and, seconds later, he’s clutching at his throat, dropping the joint onto the broken gravel and concrete as he heaves. Instinctively, you thump him on his back and run your palm soothingly over his lean shoulder blades, surprised by the corded muscle that greets you. For a relatively thin guy, he’s certainly packing some strength under that unassuming form of his. 

Tomura startles at your touch and he yanks himself away from you, his head ducked, eyes fastening onto yours, the irises accusatory and bright, burning with some underlying emotion that you’re too nervous to name right now. 

“Uh,” you begin, aghast that you’ve upset him, “m-my bad…”

But, he’s already leaving, his head firmly turned from you, clambering over the edge and back onto the fire escape, leaving you alone in the darkness. 

******                

After that night, you can’t slip him out of your mind. Even when you sleep, you can see those red eyes of his, gleaming and hungry. One evening, you’d even woken with your fingers firmly pressed to your throbbing clit, stumbling and gasping, shaking free of a dream of him. He’d felt so real, so in focus and you can’t catch your breath, fingers still rubbing a tight circle over your quivering bundle of nerves. You pant as you break yourself, sukling in the whites and reds that haze over your vision. Yeah, that crush of his definitely isn’t a one sided thing.

The next shift you work, he’s waiting for you, perched in his familiar seat, his shoulders curved and tight. You give him a glance, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His hands are lowered, fiddling with something under the bartop. You begin to open your bar, trying to quiet your wandering thoughts, not wanting to perturb him again. You’re uncorking a red wine when he presses something across the mahogany wood of the bar, toward you.

It’s small, with dark colors and a tiny, familiar, upper half mask. You let the bottle of wine thud against the counter, abandoning the half opened bottle to move closer. It’s...it’s your-- No. It can’t be yours, but it is the same toy, the one you’d mentioned on the roof the other night. How did he?

You gulp and look up at him, your heart pulsing wildly against your ribs. For the first time, he looks away from you first, his white hair pillowing across his brow. His lips start to rise in an all too habitual scowl and his raspy voice lifts to your ears. “If you don’t want it,” he grouses, one hand pulling away from the offered toy, clearly flustered by your wondering gaze. Without thinking, you slip your fingertips over the top of his hand, prolonging the touch, sulking in the warmth of him. 

His fingers curl, some unconscious tremor racing along his digits. He almost yanks himself away, but then he stops, sighing as his eyes lift to yours. For a long moment, the two of you watch the other. You can hear his breathing speed up and you can almost smell the shift in the air. All it would take is one, tiny push to break that delicious tension. 

Tomura’s nostrils flare as you start to lean closer, your body curving toward his, fingers still pressing into his skin. Your tongue dips out, wetting your lower lip and pulling it into your mouth, sucking on the plush flesh. His eyelids have lowered and he’s mirroring your motions, his elbows assisting his lift, his face upturning, seeking, reaching.

With a bang, the front door is flung open and it breaks the spell that’s fallen over the two of you. Tomura leans away first, his eyes narrowed in agitation, sliding from your open face to the darkness of the entryway. You exhale a shaking breath and follow Tomura’s gaze. It’s that masked man, the one with the top hat and he’s already striding confidently forward, peppering Tomura with a series of questions. 

Snagging up his gift to you, you walk back to your bottle of wine. 

******    

You don’t have a chance to see Tomura again until he tells you, one evening, that the bar is going to be closed for the next few days. Then, over his shoulder, you spot the blonde boy, strapped and bound into a stiff chair and you blanch, stunned, too overwrought to give him more than a one word acknowledgement before stumbling back outside. In all of your talks, he’d never mentioned anything like this. That boy looked like a kid, barely past middle school, his eyes wild and defiant, but also so, so frightened. 

No, you think, pacing your apartment, it’s impossible to come to terms with this. You can’t stay there, can’t work there. It’s too dangerous, too close to a real criminal den for comfort. You have to look out for yourself, no matter your feelings for the man who’s wandering down some long, lost pathway, toward a future you can’t even comprehend, let alone see.

So, you hand in your written resignation. 

Kurogiri is behind the bar when you bring it in, and you’re hoping that the early morning conversation will spare you from having to see him. The wispy, purple hand of Kurogiri is just about to take your letter when Tomura barges down the hallway. His eyes immediately land on you and he steps forward, a dark look passing over his palled features. 

“Why?” he growls, fingers snatching the paper from Kurogiri and crumbling the parchment to bits, his quirk rendering your typed words to nothingness. 

“I don’t want to be a part of any kidnapping. It…” you pause, looking toward Kurogiri and, to your surprise, he nods to Tomura and moves away, leaving the two of you alone in the vacant bar. Tomura is still glaring at you, but he’s waiting for you to finish your thought, his jaw grinding quietly. 

“This doesn’t feel like you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tomura scoffs, his chin jutting at the assertion. 

“This doesn’t change society. This is just some petty attempt to get back at the UA staff. It’s like...It’s like you’re asking for trouble to seek you out. You’re smarter than this. Besides, what are you going to do with him?” you smart, crossing your arms and balling your fingers into your fists. 

“What do you know about anything? That kid’s been oppressed by hero society, literally muzzled and bound--”

“As if you’re doing any better! He’s still muzzled and bound, Tomura! He’s just in a different location. This is insanity. Who put you up to doing--”

“That doesn’t matter. This conversation has nothing to do with that. You can’t leave,” Tomura snaps, his head lowering, soft white hair falling over his face. “Give it a few more days.”

“What? I can’t stay if the bar is raided and it’s prolly gonna be if you keep that kid. Besides, that’s not--”

“Just...just give me a few more days. I don’t want to beg you, I shouldn’t fucking need to beg you. It’s not an impossible request (Y/N). Just--”

“Fine,” you sigh, uncrossing your arms and watching him. He looks on edge, haggard and angry. Those emotions aren’t projected at you, you know that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t lessen the danger he’s asking you to stand with him in. But, you can give him a few days and you tell him so, trying to ignore the pattering of your heart when he looks at you and smiles.

******

Then, Kamino happens. 

You weren’t there, thank God. But he was, and now, no matter what he’d asked of you, no matter what he’d hoped for, everything shifts apart. Days linger into weeks and you’re trying your best to reason that he’d made it out in one piece. Surely, you would have heard something. The capture of the leader of the League of Villains would have been a morsel that the media would have wanted to crow about, especially after the loss of All Might. 

Late one evening, your phone rings. 

It’s an unknown, blacked out number, but something tells you to answer, so you pick it up. You almost gasp when you hear that familiar rasp and you listen to what he tells you. You can’t get over how brittle and cracked his voice sounds but you write down the address he gives you. He cloaks his true motivations with a lie. Apparently, he has your last paycheck. Like that even matters to you. Honestly, you’re just glad he’s safe and whole. But, he’s gone to all this effort to build a bridge back to him, so of course you’re going to go.

You check and double check the directions, carefully maneuvering and weaving through bus stops and back streets. Somehow, you make it and find yourself pressing open a dilapidated door and stepping into a small room. Only darkness greets you, even though the bright midday sun is shining outside. The place he’s brought you to is on a dock, on the outskirts of town, close to the salty edge of a bay. You can hear the mournful cries of a seagull as you close the door behind you, sealing yourself inside and blinking into the gloom.

It takes you a minute to catch sight of him.

He’s lingering along the edges but you can make out the glow of his eyes, red and fierce. He looks different. It’s only been a few weeks, but it looks like the weight of years has crushed him under its unfeeling grind in that short amount of time. No, Kamino has changed him, rendering him unhinged and dangerous, drifting along the peripheral of your vision. Still, you haven’t come here to witness him falling to bits at your feet. No, you’d come here with another, darker motive. 

Now, to work.

“What happened?” you ask, keeping your back firmly against the door. Watching him move closer, those red shoes of his glinting over the dark wooden floors.

“Sensei is...gone,” he replies, his voice hollow and faint. He’s mentioned his Sensei before and you’d heard the man’s strange voice echoing from that back television, like some distant, terrifying specter. But, you knew he was important to Tomura, more like a father than a teacher. However, you’d seen the news. You knew he was beaten to a pulp and captured, locked away and out of Tomura’s reach. Now, he can’t ask his Sensei for advice or support, not anymore. Even knowing what little you’ve gleaned about the strange man, Tomura must be devastated by his loss.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, genuine in your sympathy.

Tomura nods and fishes for something in the pocket of his trench coat, lifting a thin slip of paper out and showing it to you. “Here,” he sighs, still not meeting your eyes directly. 

“Oh,” you say, moving away from the door and taking a few steps toward him. “You really did ask me here for the check, huh?”

“What else did you want?” he grumbles, his voice regaining a small slice of that familiar rasping. The question lingers and you feel your pulse speed up, your palms itching at your sides. “Or, did you want to scold me again?” Tomura continues disgruntled, and you can see a grimace pass over his face.

“You deserved it,” you confirm, taking another step, only wavering when you’re a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn't kidnapped that UA student. Now, the kid, and your Sensei are gone and you’re stuck here. Wherever here is”

“Look at you, quite the oracle aren’t you? So, you did come here to berate me.” Tomura snaps, dropping your pay stub to the dusty floor. 

“No,” you shake your head, not wanting this to spiral out of your control, not wanting him to simply shut you out, alone on that pier, left with all of your what ifs. “No, I didn’t come here to do that. I-I...it’s just that...well...that wasn’t you. That whole plan...it still doesn’t make sense”

“How the fuck would you know what is, or isn’t, me? You said that that morning, too. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now,” Tomura bristles, closing the distance and bowing up to you. You can feel the sheer heat of him radiating against your shirt and you shiver at the sensation. If you lift your hand you could touch him, you think distantly. He’s so close...He’s so... 

You gulp, trying to quell your rising emotions. “I guess, I don’t know then.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” you say, biting your lip.

“Fine,” he repeats, no doubt thinking that will be the end of it, but you’re not finished.

“You’re better than this you know,” you tell him, eyes searching for his, not relenting your glare until he finally meets you halfway, his red eyes flashing.

“Better than what? Better than you? A half baked woman, slumming her way from mid range bar, to mid range bar. Hoping you’ll catch the eye of the right person, someone who can pluck you from all the muck and grime that you lift that pretty little nose of yours at.”

“What?” you breathe, a snarl of your own etching across your face.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing. Fucking leading me on like that--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You thought I’d be your ticket out, or you could wager me later for a better piece, something stronger, someone that could do something for you.” Tomura is seething, his chest bumping against yours, the red of his eyes burning as he glowers at you. 

“Tomura- I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“Stop saying that. You stupid, or something? And stop saying my name like that. Like it fucking matters. You could have had anything, you know? But...but you took it all for granted. You had the world...and then it...it’s...it’s just gone.”

He’s not talking about you anymore. Even though he’s growling and spitting rage at you, he’s not talking about you. “Shigaraki,” you begin, trying to see some way to reason with him. To bring him back to you. 

“Don’t call me that,” he groans, his head dipping, almost resting against your shoulder. “I haven’t earned...that’s not me.” 

“Alright. What am I supposed to call you?” you whisper, overwhelmed and trying to resist that urge to pull him into your arms. You’ve never seen him like this, and you don’t know, you don’t…

“There you go again, acting like you care.” Tomura scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“I do care, you ass,” you bite, turning your head toward him and letting your voice fall beside his ear. He snarls at the assertion and presses impossibly closer, trying his best to put on a show of wavering strength, knowing you might still be bullied into backing down, into denying him. But it’s not working, no you’ve come this far and you don’t want to leave him, not like this. 

“I care,” you repeat, still murmuring next to his cheek, so near you can hear, and feel, his ragged breaths, hot against your skin.

“About what?” he grunts, moving his head from you, determined to not let you win.

“About, well, you.”

“Liar,” he spits, but his voice wavers, showing you a tiny, tiny sliver of hope.

“Am not,” you counter and watch as he leans back, those vermillion eyes searching for yours. One of his hands lifts and he ghosts the digits over the top of your shoulder, watching as you shift toward the distant touch, pulled to him, like a magnet.

“Such a liar,” he posits, fingers hovering beside your neck, twitching with want. 

“No, I’m not,” you gasp, your voice so faint, you’re worried he might not hear it. But he does and he dips his head toward you, inches from your face, lips already parted and waiting. 

“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice deepening, losing that sharpened edge at long last.

So, you shove him. 

You’re not sure why that’s your first, instinctive reaction, but it’s too late to question your motives and it sparks a crazed response from the man in front of you, snapping him out of his head and refocusing him. 

He fumbles backwards, caught off guard, his red shoes catching as he lumbers, trying to not fall. His eyes flash at you and he instantly rights himself, moving back to you. Through it all, you can hear yourself saying something. It sounds like it might have been another taunt, but you can’t focus, not when he’s pressing himself against you, his fingers finally, finally touching you. 

Tomura can’t seem to settle now that he’s gotten ahold of you, his fingers tracing over your neck, your shoulders, your face, your sides. He’s panting and gasping, his fevered exhales fanning over your prickling skin.

“Get off me,” you moan, batting at his wandering hands.

“No,” he sighs, cupping your jaw and dragging you to his shaking lips. His kiss is clumsy, almost childlike. He lifts and leans, pressing halting smacks against you, grunting when you twist from him, fighting his hold.

“You don’t deserve it,” you tell him, wanting to lance that boil that’s festering in his mind, knowing he needs the pain before he can handle the sweetness of the pleasure. The last thing he needs is love. No, not right now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. But for now, he needs something raw and shattered, something that will let him see that it’s not impossible to pick up the pieces, that he can be whole again, he just needs to try.

He drags his rough lips over yours and you lower your fingers into his snowy hair, pulling him closer, demanding that he give you more. He gasps at the sudden shift and you slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his and yanking stammering moans from him. Your lips are slick now and you use the extra lubrication to slip down his neck, leaving him trembling above you. 

You dip into each and every scar, laving over all those old hurts until he’s snarling. You leave a bruising bite against his pulse and he snatches your face between his palms, dragging you back to his lips. 

“Stop squirming,” he complains, his forehead bumping against yours, trying to keep up with your rapid fire laps and sucks. 

“No,” you laugh, fingers lacing into the lapels of his trench coat and using the leverage to drag your breasts over his hardened pectorals. He grunts at the sensation, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pinning you to him. When he finally manages to work his way free of your frantic presses, he lowers his lips to your neck, mimicking the same path you’d taken with him, his teeth nipping and pulling until your humming, giving him a thin cry of encouragement that spurs him on. 

Tomura drags a canine over your pulse and you shiver, folding into his crumpled embrace. He’s almost having to hold you upright and he growls when you slip from his arms, annoyed you’re making this so fucking difficult. 

“I said, keep still,” he reminds you, heaving you back up, lean forearms bracing you to him. You smile and lace your arms around his neck, wanting his lips again. He allows the pull, loving the contrast of your plush skin against his. He’s a fast learner and this time, it’s his tongue taps and maneuvers for entrance, swallowing down your needy pants. His nose presses into your cheek and you cup at his jaw, stroking the warm skin until he slows his frantic pace, meeting you halfway, and lingering in your wet softness.

Then, just as he’s getting comfortable, you dig your teeth into his lower lip, pulling until you bleed out a little taste of copper. He snarls and shoves you away, lifting the side of his hand to his injured mouth. 

“What was that for?” He snaps, tapping his fingers against the wound, watching as they come back red. “The fuck is wrong with…” His ire stutters to a halt when he catches sight of you. 

You’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and now your fingers are twisting until you unclasp your bra, sliding the lace down your arms. The cool air makes your nipples tighten but you don’t attempt to cover yourself from him. Instead, you arch an eyebrow at his abashed expression and begin to unbutton your pants, your fingers teasingly lingering over the button and zipper, before lowering the denim down the curve of your hips. 

You don’t even hear him approach. No, you’re too distracted by your little show to notice him until you feel those warm fingers tracing over the newly bared swells of your skin. You lift your head and your eyes catch his, smiling at the hazy hunger that’s blazing out at you. His touch is tentative and you roll your eyes openly at him, lifting your own hands over his, pressing him until he’s digging those four digits into your sumptuous flesh. 

His thumb rubs over your pebbled nipple and you reward him with a low moan, your eyes slipping behind your heavy eyelids. He cups at your other breast and lifts the weight of you into his palm, openly marveling at the feel of you. Still, it’s not enough and if you’re going to get your point across, you need him to give you more than these lazy strokes. 

“Take off your jacket,” you tell him, stepping away from him, quaking minutely in the loss of his warmth. 

“What?” he asks, clearly too overwrought to hear you. So, you help him along. Your fingers snatch the shoulders of his trench and you yank it off him, tossing the fabric down to the gritty floors. Then, you shove at him again. He isn’t as taken aback this time and he rallies immediately, snatching at you and dragging you against him, making you gasp at the harsh sensation of his dark clothes against your bare front. 

“What do you want?” you ask him, licking your tongue along the underside of his jaw, listening to his shuddering breaths. “What do you want to do to me, Tomura? Come on, I know you’ve got some idea. Fucking show me. Don’t let me boss you around, unless that’s what you’re wanting today to be about. I can take those reigns from you. I’m better at this after all. Less...flustered,” you pause, sucking and nipping at his neck, enjoying the indecisive flex of his fingers on your upper arms.

He allows you one more bite and then he’s tossing you down, not caring where you land. Thankfully, you sprawl over his discarded jacket, the fabric sparing you from the neglected wooden floor. You’re trying to regain your bearings when you hear his belt clatter to the floor. You look up at him, watching as he flings that dark shirt away, showing you the lean muscles that you’ve wondered about for so long. God, for someone so lanky, he looks fucking good. 

Tomura smirks at your expression and swiftly yanks his pants and boxers away too, revealing something even more mouthwatering. Fuck, fuck, you think, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. His cock is thick, pulsing and absolutely dripping with his precum. The tip is a lovely pink, curving toward that chiseled stomach of his and damn, you want to suck on it until he’s putty in your hands. 

As if he can read your mind, Tomura steps closer, giving himself a few tugs as he peers down on you, imperious and almost perfectly in control. “You want it?” He asks, trying to hide that sudden shift in his voice, wanting to show you that he understands what you’re expecting from him. You nod and bite your lip, looking up at him from feathery eyelashes. 

“Come here,” he requests, slowing those pulls and letting his precum slip from his fist to the floor, tempting you with those tiny droplets of arousal. Obediently, you rise to your knees, fingers tracing up his thighs, smiling at the light buckling he gives you, his calves twitching and shaking. 

You tease your way to the apex of his hips and pause, lingering along that dip of his stomach. “Can I taste you?” you question coquettishly and you adore the moan that falls from his lips. 

Taking that as a yes, you slowly lower your mouth to him, ghosting the tip of him over you. Rubbing him back and forth, painting that thick precum over your lips until they’re glistening. Tiring of this little game, his fingers dip into your hair and he grips you, hard. With one pull, he’s burying that velvet heat of his length past the ring of your lips and into the sweet cavern of your mouth. His cock swells and throbs as you lap ravenous at the hefty weight of him.

He’s salty and earthy and you let your tongue swirl over his slit, lapping into that leaking gap until he’s murmuring nonsense over you. He’s almost too big for you to take, so one of your hands lifts and wraps around his base, easing your sucks and ensuring that none of him is left out of this gift of mind numbing ecstasy you’re bestowing upon him. 

There are several veins, racing along the side of his cock and you tickle along each of them, pressing until you can feel the beat of his heart, frantic and fluttering. Soon, he begins to silently ask you for more, rutting his hips against your face, scraping himself along the back of your throat. When you heave around him he lets out a loud, elongated moan and digs in again, lingering until you’re nearly choking. 

You chance a peek up at him and are surprised to see him gazing right back, those red eyes of his clouded and muddled. His hand keeps an insistent pressure against the back of your head, demanding that you keep going. So, you pick up the pace, lapping and sucking, hollowing your cheeks until a thin line of your drool begins to trickle along your chin, dripping onto your knees.

“Can...can I…” he begins, fingers starting to tremble, his knees buckling. No, that’s not what you want from him. You shake free of his hand, letting him slip from your mouth, and he stammers and sputters at the loss, his eyes narrowed and dark, glaring at you with a raw frustration. 

“No,” you tell him, keeping one hand on him, stroking him, maintaining that steady pressure until he’s grunting, his hips instinctively canting into the tantalizing motion. “No, you don’t ask me for anything. Yeah, I can finish you off, if you need me to take control, but it’s not going to be on your terms. If you’re wanting something Tomura, you better fucking take it. Stop asking me for permission. I’m not-- mmph--”

He rips your hand off of his dick and his fingers curl beside your ears, forcing your mouth back, and impaling you on his length, immediately gagging you on his heady thrusts. You inhale sharply, your breath catching, failing as he keeps railing into you. More saliva slides out of your lips and you falter, a weak whimper echoing around him. 

“Mmm,” he growls, holding your face as he presses against the back of your throat loving the clenching and mewls you give him. “That feels fucking good, (Y/N). Taking all of my cock, ah- fucking choking on it. You’re so fucking greedy. Don’t worry, I’ll give you more. Let’s see, what would make this even better, oh, I know. Saw it in a porn once. Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”

Immediately, you clasp your fingers together, letting them rest against your lower back. The suspension knocks you off kilter, but Tomura braces your head with his other hand, pinning you between his palms. His dick is still lancing in and out of your mouth, scraping against your tonsils, making you swallow and open, trying to push yourself past that oppressive gagging sensation.

“Ahhh, such a good girl, now spread your legs and lift up, just a little bit, yes- right there. Better keep those hands still,” he taunts, pulling his cock out until it hangs against your lower lip, glimmering with the sheen of your ministrations. Then, he dives back in, thrusting and grinding until his balls are papping against your soaking chin. Your legs tremble as you hold yourself up and you can feel your own arousal, slipping down your inner thighs, splattering onto that dark trench coat of his. 

You’re heaving under him, grunting and slobbering trying to not fucking choke on the girth that’s being pistoned into you. He’s gasping praise at you, his white head thrown back, and his lower abdomen is rippling, letting you know he’s so, so close to spilling down your abused throat. He bows over you as he cums, spewing thick ropes of his release into you. You gulp at him, determined to let every last drop slither down your waiting throat, longing to savor everything that he’s giving you. 

True to your promise, you keep your hands clasped and you nearly topple over when he tugs free of your lips. Tomura takes pity on your wilted form and lowers himself to his knees, wrapping one hand around you and tapping twice on your shaking digits, letting you know you can relax your grip. You fall forward, and he waits above you, watching you with a mounting fascination. Once you catch your breath, you look up at him, not caring that you’re still covered in a mix of tears, spit and his cum. He smirks at your dishevelment, pleased by your open display of your wanton lust for him. 

“See? It’s not hard to take what you want, to do what you want,” you pant, still trying to gulp down a few more rough intakes of air.

Tomura sucks his teeth at your bravado, but you notice he’s having a little bit of trouble steading his own breathing and his hands are twitching as they reach for you. You hum when he cups at your dips and curves, lingering over spots that make you moan for him. As he plucks at one of your puckered nipples his eyes lift to yours and he leans close, pressing a wet line of kisses against your collarbone.

“Lay back,” he rumbles, still sucking at the hollow of your throat. You do as he says, propping yourself on your elbows, curious and waiting. He’s slowed down now that he’s slaked that first brush of pent up aggression, but he’s still got a little more to burn. You can see it, lingering behind his vermillion eyes, gleaming under the carnal intrigue. 

His fingers, so dangerous and deadly, race down your sides, falling to the juncture of your legs and dipping into the slick that he finds. He parts your folds, bracing himself over you, his lips sucking bruises into your skin. The gossamer threads of your leaking cunt run down his fingers and onto his open palm and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose to your skin and inhaling, deeply. 

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice scraping, like sandpaper, hoarse and undone along your heated cheek. Ok, you think, arching as he dips one digit into you, you can let him have that one question, especially when your mind is fogging over like this, unable to think of anything but that ache that’s pounding through your core. You roll your hips again, urging that finger to slip further and he hisses as you pull him in, your walls trembling at the intrusion. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting himself to look down at you, his eyes wide with an awed marvel. “You’re so…”

“Mmm, so what?” you ask, wanting him to keep talking to you, loving rasp of his tone as it tells you such sinful things.

“So soft and warm and...God...so wet,” he replies, adding another finger, watching as you whine for him, your lower lips parting and welcoming him. He pumps the digits, in and out, at a steady rate, waiting for each quiver and ripple, trying to feel his way along, wanting to please you. 

“Can--” he stops himself, flushing as your eyes open and snap to his, a rough displeasure written over your face. He tears his gaze from yours and scowls, letting his fingers press a rougher rhythm into you, sucking his teeth at his unspoken inexperience. 

“This feels good,” you reassure him, not wanting to completely leave him adrift, knowing that he does need a little piece of guidance, for this part, at least. “Why don’t you get a closer look?” 

Tomura looks back to you and nods before sliding down your body, lowering himself until he’s face to face with his prize. His mouth drops and he licks at his chapped lips, painting a few, warm, exhales against your sensitive folds. You squirm at the sensation and he grins, leaning closer, his free hand spreading you for his inspection. 

“Is this…” his voice trails off and you can feel him wandering his way to just the right spot. When he lifts the fleshy hood of your clit and thumbs the distended pearl you gasp and shiver, your head falling back against his jacket, thumping against the floor. 

He laughs and you can feel him getting ready to swipe at you again, his thumb already slippery and near, the heat of it radiating against that sensitive bundle. “You like that,” he crows, repeating the motion until you’re writhing. “But—” he ponders, moving so his lips are pressed against you, resting on those sopping folds, waiting for you to look up at him. Once your head lifts and your eyes meet his, he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue over you. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your hands automatically lifting and curling into his hair, threading the white tendrils along your palms. His tongue is rough and bumpy as it glides along, pausing to lap at some of your arousal. He smacks his lips at the taste, savoring the flavor before voraciously pressing back into you for more. When he pauses his explorations to give your clit a soft suck, you can’t help but flail, your back bowing and thighs tightening around his head. 

Tomura grunts at the rough treatment, prying your legs apart but not letting up on that suction, pleased he’s found something that makes you tremble to pieces in his hands. He’s always liked working you up, so it makes sense that, in this instance, he’s no different. 

His long digits are scraping into you, dragging along your quivering walls and spreading your cunt apart, leaking your arousal all over his jacket and onto his chin. He’s not satisfied yet, you’re not satisfied yet, so he keeps going, listening and watching, catching on to what makes you cry out his name, learning and adapting at an alarming speed. 

“T-Tomura,” you keen, your hips lifting, grinding yourself against his face, begging him to not stop. You feel a smirk lift his lips and his tongue begins to circle and lick over your clit, maintaining a steady pressure. Meanwhile, his fingers have latched onto something delicate and spongy within your pussy, repeating an arched gesture, curling and uncurling as they stroke your budding flames higher. 

“So good…” you murmur, hardly able to form the words as you feel that all encompassing tingle race along your bloodstream. “You’re doing so f-fucking good.” 

In response, he begins to suckle on your clit, lightly tracing a canine over the pulsing bundle and that’s all that it takes. Your head dips back, pressing into the floor so hard that your neck arches with your back and your legs wrap around him, holding him to you as you quiver and shake under him. You can feel your heartbeat as you return to yourself, thumping a rapid beat over your breastbone and radiating out to your fingers and toes. 

Tomura, for his part, hadn’t stopped lapping at you, his tongue replacing his fingers as he pushes the wet appendage into you, soaking up each wave of your release. Even when you’d dropped your death grip, your legs and arms flopping away from him, boneless and shaking, he’d kept on. After a few minutes of this, his lips suddenly feel a little too ragged, the chapped skin scratching against your sensitive, overstimulated, flushed lower lips. You do your best to wriggle away, but he stills your movements, not quite finished. 

“Ah- that...it’s starting to hurt,” you grouse, pushing a hand against his bowed head. That declaration seems to get through and, finally placated, he gives you one last lick and lifts his head, his eyes glinting down on you, dark and mischievous. 

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you, wiping a hand across his mouth, dragging the last of your essence away. You tilt your head and grin up at him. “So fuck me,” you reply, spreading your legs again, making room for his trim hips.

“Not like this,” he qualifies, his eyes hooded as he runs a hand along your leg, enjoying your skin, warm and pliant under his palm.

“Then how?” you ask, a little bewildered by this shift in attitude. Tomura leans up, resting on his haunches, leering at your nakedness, another smirk lifting his lips, arching that scar.

“Stand up,” he instructs. 

You pull your legs away and slowly rise to your feet, waiting for him to do the same. Once the two of you are eye level again, he tugs you to him, his lips pulling and nipping at yours. You can’t help but melt into his persistent touch and when he feels you slacken against him, he starts to push you backwards. He walks you slowly, carefully, but once your back touches the cold wall, his caresses become rougher, more insistent. 

He’s lifting your chin and his teeth are doing more biting than nipping, pulling at your lips until you’re gasping and swollen. He begins to lift away and you protest the movement, but his hand presses into your chest, shoving you back to the wall. You freeze at the forceful treatment, your eyes opening and fastening onto his. Waiting for his next move.

Tomura’s regained that wild look, his eyes hardening, sharpening like ruby slips of flint as they linger over you. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall,” he commands and, for an instant, you debate pushing back, challenging his order, but that’s not what you’re here for. No, you’d come here with one thought in mind. 

To see if you could show him what choices, what strong inner drive, wholly independent of his Sensei, he did have. 

You’d watched that kidnapping debacle and all you could think about was how much better, how much stronger he’d be if he could just get out from under the thumb of that man, that voice on the tv. Even with this informal exercise of your own, Tomura had taken to your carnal lessons like a fish to water. He had always been a natural born leader, someone who cultivated and demanded change, he just needs a chance to try. A chance to prove that he didn’t need to ask permission, to ask questions. No, he only needed to act and he could make his aspirations a reality. 

So, you turn, splaying your fingers against the wall and waiting for his next move, tilting your head, wanting to see him. He runs a calloused hand over the plush swell of your ass, kneading the skin and stepping closer. Once his hips are flush with your posterior, he ruts his newly re-hardened cock against you, his ever copious precum aiding his motion, letting him glide between your cheeks, easing into that cleft. You groan and press back, wordlessly asking for him to keep going. 

Suddenly, his palm smacks against your ass, stinging the flesh and sending a sharp crack around the barren room. “I said, push out more. How am I supposed to fuck you when you’re plastered to the wall like that?” Tomura questions, his voice deep and guttural. You brace your hands against the peeling wallpaper and jut your ass out, presenting yourself to him, quietly hoping he’ll reward you with another spank. Pleased, Tomura does just that, his other hand lifting and smarting against your other, neglected cheek, imprinting his mark on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment, and his fingers linger on the warmth he’s raised from your skin. 

“Good girl,” he groans, taking his cock in his hand and searching for that weeping entrance to your waiting pussy. You aid him as best as you can, arching your hips until he finally, finally slips into you. Tomura lets out a deep sigh as your cunt devours his cock, slicking him into the heat of your rippling channel. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pressing until his hips are flush with your ass, grinding his bony hipbone into your supple softness.

He gives you a brief second to adjust before he bows his head over your shoulder, panting and grunting. “Hold on,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then ramming his straining cock back into you. You mewl at the sudden ferocity of his thrusts, your head dipping against the steady weight of the wall. 

He offers you no reprieve as he pounds into you, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking and drooling, losing himself in you. His balls tap against your swelled ass and you moan when he traces one hand around you, his fingers seeking your clit and pinching at the nub. 

Your teeth begin to chatter, but he doesn’t let up, maintaining that mind numbing pace, pressing and grinding until you can’t fucking think straight. He’s completely untethered and he slakes out all of those pent up questions, feelings, hurts and wants against you. After a time, he begins to murmur things to you, finally sucking up his loose tongue and resting his chin on the mess he’s left on your skin.

He’s worried he can’t do it. 

He’s never been alone, not like this. 

Sure, he has the others, he has Kurogiri, but it’s not the fucking same. 

He needs to see this through. 

He wants to, he has to.

Where do you go, when there’s no one else to turn to?

It’s like a confessional, this rutting he’s doing and it’s bleeding all of those thoughts away, letting them pool against the front of his mind and then, pop, they shift away. 

Oh this helps, he thinks, loving how you’re fucking taking him, how much you fucking need him. He can’t let you go. He can’t, he won’t. You’re all he has left. After all this, he can’t lose anything else. No, you were right, he’s gotta start taking things, snatching up pieces until he becomes this unstoppable force, greater than his Sensei, greater than All Might, greater than all of them. Yes, yes, yes, when he has you like this, everything else feels so fucking simple. 

He’s slowing, his hips beginning to stutter and press erratically against you. There’s no need to worry about you cumming for him, not when you’ve already broken around him so many times in the last few minutes. No, the second he started panting all of those thoughts against you, you were lost, your cunt gripping him so tightly you were worried it might never let go. 

Finally, with one last thrust, Tomura grinds his hips against you, his cock swelling and pulsing as he spills himself into you. The sensation of his cum splashing against your walls hurtles you over that edge one last time and you almost collapse, your legs shaking so badly you can't support your own weight. The only thing that prevents you from falling is Tomura. His arms snake around your waist and he holds you to him, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, sticking to your skin. 

After a long beat, Tomura pulls himself out of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth and sinks to the floor, dragging you with him. Naked and gasping, the two of you cling to the other, waiting for the world to stop spinning as you come back to yourselves. Tomura recovers first, tugging you to his chest and wrapping himself around you, his chin perched on the familiar slope of your shoulder.

“You didn’t...you didn’t need to do this, but...” Tomura halts, his voice soft as his lips press rough kisses to your skin, silently saying what he really means, what you mean to him.

“That’s not true,” you counter, turning your head toward him. “You deserve to make a choice for yourself. You’re your own boss now. Now all you have to do is act like it. Don’t make those mistakes again. You call the shots, not your Sensei, not anyone else in the League, just you. You’ll have other choices soon, so don’t doubt yourself, it’s not like you.”

He huffs out a laugh and buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as he licks at a rising bruise. “I don’t think you’ll like my next choice,” he rumbles, one hand drifting over your side and cupping the soft mound of your breast.

“That depends on what it is,” you smile, your eyes closing at the tempting touch.

“Mmm, do me a favor,” he begins, nipping at your earlobe. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You looked so fucking pretty when you were sucking on my cock, I wanna see it, one more time.”

“What?” you question, absolutely incredulous, “again?”

“Do as I say (Y/N),” he replies, rubbing his rising length along your ass.

“God,” you gasp, bucking at the sensation, “what have I done? At this rate, I won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“You’ll like it,” Tomura promises, his voice dark, “I’ll make sure that you do.”

Notes: never have i ever liked that kidnapping bullshit. i guess it lets AFO face off with All Might, but for Tomura’s development? it makes no sense and he’s never done anything like that again, in canon. so, uh, yeah. booo kidnapping scheme. 

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

[oksana-moods]

Ghost of you - Part 9

Summary: Ghost realizes that, no matter how hard she tries, she can't run away from her past. When Carol's presence do more harm than good, the only way to come clean is to take a dive. A/N: Thank you again for all the support, and to let you know that we reached the point where things start to change. Starting for the song theme. Now we’ll go with ‘Writings on the wall’ from Sam Smith. We’re halfway through, lovelies. Trigger Warnings: Violence, language (a bit too much, I believe), mentions of death… if you find others, let me know. Oh, sort of WandaVision spoiler. Angst. “I've spent a lifetime running, and I always get away”

With my hands involuntarily clutching the tag, I’m sitting at the roof watching the sun slowly but inexorably going down in the horizon. Once, I heard that this is what life feels like. We born just like the sun raises, we reach our greatest point then we start to set till night embraces us. Death, just like the sunset, is inevitable. I find myself agreeing with this metaphor.

It’s been a few months since our futile attempt to overturn Thanos’s snap. And now, each one of us went different ways to try to cope with this catastrophe.

Steve, Natasha and I were still living at the compound we had nowhere else to go so we’re pretending that we were taking care of things, that we’re moving on.

Tony and Pepper are about to get married and, honestly, I hope they find happiness. While Bruce went missing again, Thor went to New Asgard, he lost everything but still had a Realm to rule; Rhodey was working for the Government in a high position, or so I heard. Wakanda lost all the royal family but Okoye was holding on, as best as she could. Rocket and Nebula stayed a bit but returned to space with promises of visiting whenever they could.

Oddly, the logo ‘Avengers’ was scattered all over the universe. We were broken, but we would still protect whom needed protection.

And there is The Avenger, the original one. Carol barely touched the ground coming back from Garden and took-off claiming she needed to check on Skrulls. Not even three weeks later she was back, and that caught me off guard. I’ve never expected for her to return, not that quickly, at least.

She’s been trying to talk to me, but I dodged all of her attempts.

Until now.

 “Hey, Mav.” I close my eyes when her voice reaches my ears. “The view from here is amazing.”

I was sitting at the edge of the roof and Carol was leaning with her elbows at the rampart.

“Yes. It is.” I answer. “What do you want, Carol?” We both know she’s not here for the view.

“To talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I got up from my seat, I’m standing in the roof starting to make my way to the door. I flinch away when her hand touches my metal arm. I shoot an outrageous look at her.

“Please.” Her eyes are so soft against my gaze that something inside me stirs. “You’ve been avoiding me. Natasha told me that you lost most part of your memories.” Her brows are so furrowed that is clear she’s upset. Why is she? I turn away from her, I’m looking at the horizon once more. Her gaze was too overwhelming, right now.

“What do you want to know?” I shove my hands inside my pockets. Damn, why am I so nervous? “Most of my memories are gone. The last four years is all I have without gaps. Wanda…” I close my eyes, still hurts to think about her. I think it always will. “She helped me to unbury whatever she could.” I saw Carol leaning at the rampart. She was trying to get closer, but I needed distance.

“I crashed after your crash.” She nodded, of course she knew this. “Whatever happened to you with the tesseract, spattered in me too. That’s why I haven’t changed, just like you.” I could feel my hands shaking inside my pockets, I was uneasy. Something about her was pulling me to the edge.

“But, what about…” She hesitated “What about your arm?”  Why is she pretending to be concerned? She’s getting under my skin and I’m feeling cornered. So, I do what every cornered animal do. They attack.

“Will you fucking stop beating the bush? Ask me what you fucking want to ask.” Oh and so she did, she was exasperated with me acting like an idiot. What was she expecting?

“I came to earth around 2007. I went to Maria’s and she told me you were at war but never make it back. I… I saw your stone. I… I…” She ran a hand through her hair. “I thought you were dead.” Her voice was a whisper but that made something burst inside me. I grieved her, even when I knew she was alive. She chose to go away and wanna play the broken-hearted role?

“You and me both!” My voice was harsh and loud, but I wasn’t yelling yet. Yet. “What do you expect me to say, huh? That I am sorry someone lied to you? That I am sorry you were sad?” The setting sun illuminating her face, making her look gorgeous than ever, made me hate her even more. “Well, news flash for you, hon. YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE! I still see you die every time I fucking close my eyes.” I yelled. I couldn’t take this anymore. “I SAW YOU DIE OVER AND OVER AND OVER.” Her eyes were glossy, there was something shining inside them that I couldn’t decipher. And, Fuck. It hurt so bad. They hurt me so bad. She hurt me.

“I… Lara, I am so, so sorry they did this to you” She whispered again. She didn’t want to fight, but all I know is fight. And I only stop when I see blood.

“When I was taken by Hydra, they made me watch you die, they made me watch you leaving." My voice was low and hard, this time. "So no, I can’t stand this. Hydra took everything from me. They beat me and oh, they hit me hard. They cut off every single piece of me, and they put me through hell. But you Carol, you broke me first.”

I turned in my heels and left the roof. Each step my feet tried to betray me, make me to look back, but I kept going til reach the door. I knew I was far too harsh, my words probably cut her, but if she was bleeding so was I.

 -----------------

 Days went by and I didn’t see Carol since that day in the roof. Steve told me she took a room for her at the compound, she’d be staying a bit longer. Of course she is. Like I didn’t have a lot to deal with already. Since there weren’t any assignments going on, all the workout in the world couldn’t help to ease my mind. Or heart.

  I park my motorcycle at the parking lot and pick up the flowers from inside my jacket. I check it to see if they still look good. I shrug, they’re good enough.

I walked inside the Hospital and expertly made my way to my friend’s room. It pained me to know she was sick, but she was too strong to give in that easy to cancer. She was a fighter. She inspired me. If she could go on even with her decease and losing her child, so could I.

“Buying flowers became a struggle nowadays.” I said with a smile.

Her smile lit up the whole room. “Good thing you’re not going out on dates, then.” My laugh filed the room.

“Please Maria, you’re too old to be that sassy.”

“You’re just as old as I am. The difference is just that you still look good.”

“You still look good, Ma. I’d take you out on a date.” And it was true, she was around her sixties but still look beautiful. Few lines near the eyes, but only complimented her.

“Awn, you flatter me” She put a hand on her chest, faking innocence. “I don’t go out with women, hon. But I’d definitely accept the invitation, I’m craving real food, not whatever this hospital calls food.” Instantly, this blows the air out of my lungs and I’m forced to face reality. My friends are gone and soon, Maria will be gone too. Carol told me once that her biggest fear was to bury all her friends. Fuck. I understand what she meant now.

“Geez, Mav. It was only a joke. Next time, don’t bring me flowers unless you’re bringing fries too.”

I forced a smile at her.

After the whole ordeal with the ‘Accords’ I was arrested alongside Clint, Scott and Sam. Cap came and rescued us, but I went on the road since I was an outlaw too, so my visits to Maria and Monica stopped despite keeping in touch. I wouldn’t forgive myself for the time I lost.

“Carol came to visit me yesterday.” That’s the Maria I came to know, never holding back her words. “Apparently, you’ve been giving her a hard time.”

“Oh. Did she come to cry on your shoulder?” Every time Carol’s name was brought up, I felt my brain short-circuiting. I don’t know why, but I hated it.

“Naa. I was just gossiping around, I’m an old lady, after all.” She laughed lighting up the mood. “Does it feel better to yell, to be a bitch with her?”

“What?”

“C’mon, Mav. You changed a lot, but I can still see through you. You need to vent whatever is stuck in your chest; you need to put it out.” I was frowning at the floor. “That’s the only way both of you will move on.”

“I hate her, Maria. Seeing her makes me feel like my wounds are cutting open once again. I don’t see how we can move past this, how I can forgive her.”

“If that’s true,” She pointed at my chest, and I knew what she was going to say. “Why do you still wear her tag and yours together?” All of a sudden, the Tag was heavy in my chest. Tons and tons of unspoken words, feelings, and pain weighting too much.

“I… I don’t know. It kinda feels right.” God, I’m so confused. Is it possible to be friends with Carol Danvers again? Will I, one day, forget everything Hydra made me feel with those memories? I wonder if that hopeless feeling will ever go away. Because right now, all I can think of is that, at any moment, she’ll turn her back on me or she’ll die. It’s hard to look at someone expecting, waiting for the pain that usually comes with their face.

“I know it does.” And she changed her tone to her bossy one. “So, stop acting like you have a stick shoved inside your ass and talk to her. Promise me you will.”

“All right. I promise.” I answered, it was no use try to avoid this. Maria wouldn’t drop this.

“That’s better.” She had that look like she knew that I’d comply with her request.

“Doesn’t upset you? That she left and forgot about us?” I was looking out of the window, looking at the cars outside, people were, slowly, trying to find their bearings. Trying to figure out what should be normal now. They were trying. Should I try, too?

Maria’s voice made me look at her when she replied. “It used to hurt, yes. But I’m dying, Mav, I don’t have time or patience to fight anymore.”

 After Maria scolded me enough for not talking to Carol, our conversation was lighter. She complained about the overprotective nurse, she complained that tv never had good things to watch, gossiped about other patients, and when I said my goodbyes, she made me promise to sneak some food for my next visit.

However, all the way home I kept overthinking these things I’ve been building up inside me. Something about Carol made me uneasy, like I’m exposed in a field filled with enemies, with nowhere to hide. And I don’t like it on bit. There’s something about her eyes, and I hate the intensity in them when she looks at me, it’s like they can pierce your soul, see what’s underneath… And I’m way too afraid of all the terrors that she might discover. I’m not Lara anymore, I’m not who she thinks I am, no. I’m someone else.

 -----------

 “You stole my spot.” I said as I reached the roof. The woman who I was addressing to, turned her head to look at me.

She was wearing a simple jeans with a blue t-shirt and her hair was framing her flawless face, how this woman could be so beautiful even with so common clothes was beyond me.

She gave me a tide smile that never reached her eyes, they were somewhat tired.

“Oh. It wasn’t my intention; I’ll leave you to be.”  Yes please, leave me alone. I thought to me myself, but then my conversation with Maria from last week came to my mind. Fuck. I hate making promises. She was preparing to leave when I spoke.

“There’s room enough for both of us, though.” I said with a shrug, pretending that I was okay with her company, pretending that I wasn’t uncomfortable with this proximity. Her head snapped at me, she looked at me like I had grown two heads.

“Okay.” Her voice was so soft that immediately put me on edge. I felt exposed again. What was happening with me?

 We stayed there for a while with a heavy silence between us. The tension was so thick that I’m sure we couldn’t move, that’s probably why none of us left the roof yet. There was a sea of unspoken words and as much as I hated it, we couldn’t ignore this anymore. If she’s going to stay, we’ll have to dive into this. We’ll have to work together at some point, this wouldn’t be healthy during even the simplest mission.

“You know, I’ve been in a lot of places, but none of them had such a beautiful sunset.” Her voice startled me; I wasn’t expecting at all.

“Well, it does have something peaceful, doesn’t it?” She seemed to ponder what I just said.

“One may say that this might be a spell. That there are a lot of beautiful places out there, but nothing compares to home.”

“Is it?”

“What?” She looked at me, confusion written all over her face.

“Is Earth you home?” At this, she frowned.

“Look, I know what you’re implying. I… I don’t know how much you remember from… before.” She seemed nervous. “What do you recall?”

And that’s it. There’s no turning back now, I needed to dive into this sea and hopefully I’ll reach the other side alive.

I looked forward; eyes set at the setting sun. I couldn’t deal with this and look at her at the same time. My hands started to shake so I wriggle them together to stop them, somehow.

“I remember us.” I felt a pang in my chest. Shit. What is this? “I remember you were always going back and forth to Earth. I remember when you went for good, ‘we’re too good at goodbyes’, yeah?!”

She signed heavily. “While helping Talos, I realized that a lot of people needed help. I wanted to stay, but I just couldn’t ignore innocent people dying.”

“People were dying here too.” She was frustrated, she threw her arms around impatient, but I continued before she could speak. “I know, I know you wanted to bring peace to whoever you could. And Earth already had its saviors.”  

“It’s not just like that, I…” She turned to fully look at me. “After I found out about your… death,” She struggled with the word, it fell heavily from her tongue. “I felt so helpless, so stupid for wasting away the time I could’ve had with you, I…” She was staring at me, eyes locked, and I felt myself being dragged inside. “I couldn’t forgive myself for loosing you for good.” She half whispered as if afraid of this becoming true. Like I could turn into a mirage, out of blue.

She was diving in the sea of what was left unsaid too, there’s no going back. “And when you died, part of me died too. Then Earth wasn’t home without you on it anymore, that’s why I never came back after. But then I received Fury’s emergency call, only to learn about Thanos… only to find out that you were alive this whole time.” Her eyes were glowing with such intensity, that my feet were glued to the ground. I felt a hand wrapping around mine. “I wanted to come back, back then. After I went through your door, I regretted at the very same instant, Lara.” Her voice was so soft when she spoke my name, it was like her tongue was made of velvet and it took the air out of my lungs. “After all, I wanted… I wanted so damn hard to be happy… with you. But I couldn’t find my way back, it didn’t seem right. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’d only do more damage than I already had. And I’m so, so sorry for hurting you.”

I was so entranced in her eyes while she was speaking that up until now, I hadn’t realized how close she was, or even that her hand was gripping my flesh hand. She’s so close that I could see the fading sunlight brightening her freckles. She was so, so close that my brain was at loss.

I didn’t know if the sun was illuminating her face or if it was the other way around, but such perfection made something inside me stir, I felt strange. I felt an urge to reached out and touch her face, like I needed to feel her skin under my touch just as much as I needed oxygen.   “Why are you here now, Carol?” My voice was so soft that felt foreign, almost like a whisper. “My heart is at Earth.” She whispered back, like she was afraid of breaking this spell, this trance that was keeping both of us from moving away.

[itsadamcole]

christmas lights - pt. 3

fem!reader x drew mcintyre

reader and drew come face to face ...

word count: 2.3k+

warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce, mentions of being intoxicated, angst, rebuilding of a broken relationship

— part 4 tomorrow, then two more christmas themed imagines after that —

masterlist || request an imagine here

part 1 || part 2 || part 4

***

Weeks pass and you finally reached out to Drew after you've finally calmed down. Candice told you to hear him out so you told him to come by the house today.

Drew is home for a few days so he is stopping by so the two of you can at least air everything out. You don't know if you'll be able to fix the relationship.

You took off your wedding band and engagement ring because looking at them on your finger made you upset. You don't plan on putting them back on today.

You do dress like you haven't been crying your eyes out for the past six weeks. You wear a silky light blue button up and white jeans. You don't bother with putting shoes on so you're barefoot. You tie your hair into a ponytail on top of your head.

Now you wait for Drew to show up. You sit on the couch as you wait. You try to think about something else, anything else, but it's almost impossible. Especially after you hear a car pull into the driveway.

Sighing, you prepare yourself to come face to face with your husband, if that's what he still is. You don't know anymore.

Drew knocks on the door and you get up, walking into the foyer and opening the door.

The Scotsman stands in front of you, and it takes everything in you to not fall into his arms and just cry. He's dressed casually. A t-shirt and jeans with sneakers. His hair is in a low ponytail on the back of his head.

"Hi," you squeak.

Drew says, "Hey. May I come in?"

Nodding, you step aside and he walks in. You close the door and join Drew, who's now in the living room. He looks around at all the pictures you haven't taken down yet.

You ask, "Do you want something to drink?"

He shakes his head and says, "No, thank ya though."

You sit in the comfy chair adjacent from the couch that Drew is now sitting on. He looks over at you and you look down, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Look, Y/N," Drew sighs. "I'm ripping off the bandaid so we can go back to what we were before. I lied t'ya."

Avoiding eye contact, you say, "No shit, Drew. That's why we're here."

Drew says, "No, we're here because ya took a text out of context. Ya never let me fully explain myself."

Anger starts to rise in you and you say, "The text seemed pretty straight forward, Drew. I gave you the opportunity to explain yourself and you said that you cheated. Plain and simple."

The Scotsman says, "I told ya that I cheated because ya wanted t'hear me say it. I never cheated. I would never do that t'ya, Y/N. Ya know me-"

"I thought I knew you," you interrupt.

Drew says, "Will ya close yer stubborn mouth for two seconds so I can explain what happened?"

You blink at Drew. He's never used that tone with you. That tone of "be quiet or I swear to God". Never has Drew used that tone with you, which makes you be quiet.

As you wait, you cross your arms over your chest. You stay quiet.

Drew begins with, "I wanted t'buy you a present for Christmas and I needed another woman's opinion so I asked my friend Diane t'help me pick it out. That was my first mistake. The lingerie in the picture, that was supposed t'be for ya. Diane, who I've blocked by the way, always used t'tease me because I only have sex every few weeks. She asked if I wanted t'come over and pick it up to give t'ya but ya were home and I didn't want t'leave t'go get it since it had been a while since we've seen each other.

"That's when the picture comes in. She decided to mess with me and send that picture with the text. I never kissed her, I never slept with her, I never flirted with her. Nothing happened. I mean that. I never cheated, and I only told ya that because it's what ya wanted to hear. I've always stayed loyal t'ya, Y/N. I've never even thought about messing with someone else behind yer back," Drew finished.

His explanation lines up with everything, but your stubborn ass never let him fully explain yourself. You have your doubts, yes, but you should have let him explain himself that night.

That night was your worst nightmare come true when it never should have been.

Tears begin to well in your eyes and you mumble, "That makes perfect sense and I didn't believe you."

You cover your face with your hands. You hate that you never let Drew explain himself. You hate that you've been avoiding talking to him for weeks.

He stays quiet and the tears that formed begin to roll down your cheeks. You've hated Drew for the past six weeks when you had no reason. You almost wanted him to tell you he had been unloyal to you because you couldn't believe him at all. He sounded so panicky when he was trying to explain himself all those weeks ago that you thought that he was lying to you.

"I'm so sorry, Drew," you cry, face still covered. "I'm so sorry that I never let you explain yourself."

Drew gets up and walks over to you. He wraps his arms around you as he sits on the arm of the chair. You cry into his chest as he says, "No, I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm sorry that I made ya think ya weren't good enough. I'm sorry I made ya ever think that I cheated. Yer perfect for me and I almost ruined it."

You hug him tight and say, "I've hated you for the past few weeks and pushed you away for no reason."

"Hey, ya had every reason," Drew says. "Ya were emotional and I had told ya that I was unloyal. Ya had every right t'hate me and t'push me away, Y/N. I don't blame ya at all, and ya shouldn't blame yourself, love."

You finally look up at Drew, meeting his eyes and you say, "I love you. I never stopped even though I hated you for something you didn't do. I'm so sorry that we couldn't spend the last six weeks together when it's what you wanted."

Drew presses a kiss to your forehead and he says, "We can start over. Clean slates, yeah?"

You nod and say, "Yeah, I'd like that. I need to do one thing first."

He nods and you get up, running up the stairs. You grab your wedding band and engagement ring out of the jewelry box you put them in and put both rings on your finger. Then you grab the present you never gave Drew for Christmas before walking downstairs.

Your husband looks confused as you carry a wrapped gift down the stairs.

"I, um, was never able to give you this," you say. "So Merry belated Christmas, Drew."

The small box is unwrapped once you hand it to Drew. Inside the wrapping paper is a small box. Not the size that would contain a ring, but the size that would contain a bracelet.

Drew opens up the box and smiles when he sees the contents. It's a thin silver bracelet with Drew's initials engraved on one side of the date that's engraved in the metal with your initials engraved on the other side of date. The date is the day you married Drew.

He says, "Y/N. Ya got this fer me?"

You nod and say, "And I'm giving it to you a month and a half later so technically happy early Valentine's Day."

Your husband laughs and puts the bracelet on his left wrist. You notice he's wearing his wedding band. Your heart sinks as you realize he probably never took his off while you did.

Drew looks over at you and he says, "Thank ya, Y/N."

You nod and meet his eyes again. "No more secrets," you say. "Please?"

He shakes his head and says, "No more secrets, I promise. And no more lying."

"Yeah, I agree," you say, giving Drew a small smile.

Drew reaches up and touches your cheek lightly, and you lean into his touch. "Can I kiss ya?" he asks.

You nod and Drew stands up from the arm of the chair. He towers over you and you have to look up at him.

He leans down and lightly presses a kiss to your cheek. You move closer to Drew as the kiss intensifies just a little bit. Your eyes flutter closed and butterflies rise in your stomach as if this was your first kiss again with Drew. It almost feels like it.

The kiss continues for a few moments before Drew pulls away. He says, "I probably have t'build yer trust up again, don't I?"

You look up at him and say, "I mean, I have some doubts but I do believe you for the most part." You take his hand. "But we can't just jump right back into how we were. We've been separated for six weeks."

Drew asks, "What do ya want to do? Do ya want me to stay with Sheamus a little bit longer or I can rent an apartment for a few months that way we can take things slow."

"You don't have to move out," you say, staring up at Drew. "We can asleep in separate bedrooms for a few weeks while we mend the relationship. We're gonna need some boundaries temporarily while we fix things."

He nods and says, "Whatever ya want t'do, Y/N. If ya want me t'stay then I'll stay."

Smiling up at him, you say, "I want you to stay, but separate bedrooms for right now."

Drew says, "Then I'll stay. I'll have Sheamus or Cesaro drop my clothes off later. Right now, I just want t'spend some time with my wife while I'm home."

Your face gets a little flustered as he talks.

You believe that this relationship can be fixed. Drew's explanation makes sense and lines up with a lot. You're just upset with yourself that you never let him explain.

A question pops into your head and you ask, "Drew, how long did you know Diane?"

He says, "I've known her a few months. She works in makeup for Raw and that's how we met. She's become a close friend while I'm on the road."

"Is that why you asked her to help you shop for me?" you ask.

Drew nods and says, "I talked t'her about ya all the time and she knew what ya liked and didn't like. That's how much I talked t'her about ya." A chuckle leaves his lips. "I didn't ask Candice or Indi because I wanted it t'be a surprise and I knew they would probably end up telling ya or ya'd find out because ya always talk to them. So I asked Diane and we shopped when we were in New York. Looking back, I probably shoulda asked Candice."

You listen to the tone of his and he sounds genuine. His accent gets a little thicker when he lies but it stays the same.

"Did she ever try to come onto you?" you ask.

Drew shakes his head and says, "Not that I'm aware of. Maybe I was just oblivious because I was always thinking about ya and when I'd get back t'ya. I always used to say how I'd miss ya and how much I missed us, ya know, having sex or being intimate with each other so she used t'tease me about it. The picture she sent overstepped a boundary that I didn't think I'd needed t'put down so the next day, after I sobered up and everything, I told her that she overstepped, that our friendship was over, and blocked her."

Sobered up? "You got drunk that night?" you ask.

He nods and says, "Severely. Sheamus and Cesaro picked me up and I threw up."

You frown. That's why Sheamus said that Drew wasn't there when you called that night to make sure he made it over okay.

"I called, that night," you admit. "I called Sheamus to see if you made it there okay. My heart sank because I thought you were with her after he told me you weren't there."

Drew crouches in front of you and he says, "I drove to a bar. I drank heavily for a while before Sheamus and Cesaro found me extremely intoxicated. That's all. I wasn't with Diane."

You look into his pretty blue eyes and you feel butterflies as you make eye contact with him. "I know," you say. "I'm sorry for being a terrible wife recently."

Your husband rests his hands on your knees and he says, "Ya have no reason to apologize, love. The past few weeks have all been on me. I gave ya the space ya wanted. I knew ya'd reach out when ya were ready to talk."

Sighing, you run your fingers through Drew's dark hair and you say, "I'm glad you're back. Let's never do that again. Separate, I mean."

He lets out a breathy laugh and says, "I agree. It was terrible."

You laugh a bit and hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close.

You finally feel at home again in Drew's arms. Yes, he has a bit to prove but you're willing to work with him. You believe him and because you love him, you want to make sure this relationship gets fixed because you could never forgive yourself if this relationship ended for any reason.

—

tags: @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

[giorno-plays-piano]

The Spider's Bride Part 4

Pairing: spider!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, forced marriage, allusion to light dubcon.

Words: 2066.

Summary: Whoever your stepmother sold you to, he wasn’t as honorable as she claimed.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

P.S. I hope the things happening in this chapter won't look too gross to you 😥❤

_________________

Rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand, Bucky moved down the corridor to his room. He felt exhausted after that talk with his sisters as if they took all his energy away.

Once he passed behind the doors to your chamber, he suddenly heard your voice, "Bucky, could you come, please?"

He turned and reached for the door handle immediately, entering your room and looking for you. Were you hungry? Cold? Upset about his sisters visiting? You seemed calm and collected, so Bucky just stopped a few meters from your bed where you sat.

"Is everythint alright, sweetheart?" He asked, watching you with a warm expression on his face.

"Yes." You nodded at him. "It was nice to meet your sisters. Actually, they reminded me of our visit to the nursery two weeks ago."

"Yeah? What about it, dear?"

"I remembered you talked about weaving the silver threads. You said you usually do it at home, right?"

He looked at you, puzzled by your words. Did he miss anything? Why were you talking about the threads all of a sudden?

"Could you please show me how you do it?"

Your words made Bucky chock on air as he stared at you in disbelief. You wanted to see what? The weaving? Did you realize he would use his mouth to make the threads? Knowing how repulsed you were anytime he showed his spider nature to you even a little, your wish to explore it sounded very odd. Maybe you were a bit guilty after meeting his sisters and wanted to know more about him? Well, if it was the case, Bucky didn't see any signs of remorse on your face.

His cheeks were heated when he said, "It's a very... intimate process. Are you sure you'd like to see it with your own eyes?"

"Yes." You answered firmly, not lowering your eyes. "Besides, you said family members can do it together, didn't you? Since I'm your betrothed and your family accepts me, I think it's alright if you weave your threads in my presence."

Oh, little minx, you didn't know what you were doing to him, Bucky thought. Saying you were a part of his family, asking him to show you the weaving... Gods, he felt so ashamed and aroused and hopeful at the same time. Clearly, you still had very little idea what the process of threads-making was to any arachnid, but Bucky would make sure not to scare you, staying in his human form.

It seemed Arabella was right - you were getting better.

"Give me a few minutes to gather things I need." He said, watching your confused face - you probably thought he would just sat down and spit a perfect reel in one shot. The thought made him smirk, and the arachnid turned to the door. "I'll be quick."

___________

Watching him with a huge metal disk that looked like something in between a shield and a dish, you grabbed the pillow from your bed and put it on the floor closer to Bucky. You could tell he was nervous, setting the disk down and making a sip from the jar he brought. You wandered what was inside. Some kind magic potion, maybe?

"What are you drinking, Bucky?" You asked, feeling eager to get closer to him.

"Me? Just water." He blinked and showed your the clay jar. "Do you want some?"

"Oh."

Your disappointment made him chuckle, and he put the jar aside, brushing loose strands of his long disheveled hair behind his ears. Many people thought he needed to consume something to produce spiders silk, but, in fact, arachnids just had to have a few things purely for comfort and convenience.

"I don't need any magic to make the thread."

"You have that magic inside you, then. This is amazing." You smiled at him, and Bucky got even more embarrassed than he already was.

"But I, huh, have to say my threads won't be so thin and pretty as those you saw because I'm not a weaver, I'm a soldier. Threads we make are intended to be use in combat."

"Like a rope?"

"Well, that too. But before I start, please promise me if you get scared you'll turn away, and then I stop."

"Dear Lord, yes, yes I will! Please, just show me already!"

You clenched the fabric of your elaborate silver nightgown in your hands impatiently, and Bucky looked down the dark metal disk, closing his eyes to calm himself down a bit. Makind a deep breath and feeling his glands starting producing silky substance, he loomed over the disk and opened his mouth, his canines growing a bit sharper despite his control over the charmed body. His pushed the saliva out of his mouth to leak onto that odd dish on the floor, and you watched it turning into something glowing and more solid before it reached the metal. Your eyes went wide, and you moved a closer to get a better view, not realizing you just made Bucky even more nervous.

He kept his mouth open with saliva streaming down and becoming a strong thick thread - it could hardly be used for making a fabric, but you didn't care how elaborate it looked, fighting the urge to take it into your hands. Strangely, there was nothing disgusting in the process, you thought, watching Bucky letting out more of the silky liquid. You could see he was deeply embarrassed with his flushed cheeks, yet you didn't understand why. Was it because he didn't like you staring at him so intently? Maybe so.

"This is fantastic." You said quietly, looking at his canines glistening in the dim light of your room.

Bucky breathed through the nose loudly, brushing his hair away again and trying not to look anywhere except the disk filling with a long silver thread his glands were producing. He even cared to make a few perfectly circular shapes, watching the thread he considered almost pretty now. Hopefully, it was good enough for you, too.

"Bucky, you're amazing." You whispered softly, your eyes growing warm at the sight of him trying so hard for you. "I wish I could do something like that to."

Suddenly, he started coughed loudly, and you got closer to him, afraid you did something wrong. As the silver thread was disrupted, the man spit down involuntarily, ashamed at getting his saliva on his face. Watching him struggling with his breath, you tried wiping down the liquid with your own hand, the other patting his back. Dear Lord, what have you done? It was clear as day it wasn't a usual part of a process.

"Bucky, are you okay? Have some water!" Frightened, you reached for the jar, wiping his wet chapped lips with your thumb. "Please, drink a little!"

His face was unbearably hot. Oh no, what did you have to do? Run to the nearest house and ask for help? But you didn't even know your neighbors. Would they listen to you? Wouldn't it be already late for Bucky?

To your relief, he grabbed the jar and gulped down the water quickly, setting it aside and inhaled loudly, his face red. Softly tucking the loose strands behind his ears with your hand, you watched him with concern as he stared back at you, still making some noises but regaining his ability to breathe.

"Are you better?"

He was almost gawking at you, one of your palms stained with his salive, your face growing worried again as Bucky fell silent, unable to process what had just happened. He saw no revulsion on your face, only concern and something that looked like guilt.

"I'm sorry. I've dirtied you." He mumbled and took your fingers in his, pouring the remains of the water left in his jar on them, filling the disk. "I'm so sorry."

"Dear Lord!" You grumbled at him, watching him erasing the silky liquid from your skin. "Are you playing dumb, Bucky? Who cares about this when you almost chocked?! In the name of all things holy, for a minute I thought you will die!"

He looked back at you, blushing so hard and rubbing your hand to make it clean of his disgusting saliva. When you got more irritated, you yanked your arm right off and snatched the jar from him, gathering what was left inside it and carefully wiping the man's face.

"I can't believe someone like you is a soldier who made it through the war." You mumbled, upset still, but there was no venom in your voice as you cleaned Bucky's face softly. "You're so careless. Please be careful, for Lord's sake!"

"I'm sorry, I really am." He kept apologizing quietly, feeling your breath on his skin and enjoying your closeness to him. Aside from when he carried you to the town for the first time and then when you two got out to meet the elders, you had never been so painfully close to him.

You licked your dry lips, and his gaze dropped to your mouth. Bucky was growing even more shy, yet more aroused by your pure presence, too. He would definitely need to take a cold shower once you got done with all this. But before it would happen, the man just sat there, pushing the metal disk with a silver thread with his leg when you got up and took a towel from the lower shelf of your wardrobe.

As you returned, wiping his face with the soft fabric, for a second he closed his eyes, afraid that all this was some kind of dream or something. It was unbelievable that a woman like you, the one who screamed and cried upon seeing him in his spider form, was so kind to him now.

"I'm sorry for this. It's gross." He muttered under his breath, drowing a sigh from you.

"Of course it's not. I told you, it looked magical to me."

"No, you're just being polite to me."

Beford he could continue, you suddenly leaned closer to him and dropped a kiss to his lips, burying your fingers in his dark coarse hair. You didn't withdraw the very same second, prolonging the kiss, and Bucky wrapped his hands around your waist tenderly. Was it really happening? Were you kissing him by your own will, without any charms?

Although he wanted nothing more but to touch your soft lips more, Bucky got suspicious. Grabbing the back of your head forcefully, he forced his tongue inside your mouth and swirled it inside. Oh, he was right.

Distancing himself from you right away, he clenched his teath, feeling betrayed.

"You drank the potion." He grunted, turning away from you as you saw angry tears shining in the corners of his eyes. "I can feel it on your tongue."

Confused and ashamed, you gulped down and tried to get closer again, but Bucky wasn't looking at you anymore, staring somewhere else.

"I've only had one third of a bottle. Whatever you want to say, it's not strong enough to make me fall head over heels with you." You got defensive, afraid the man would push you away. "Please, Bucky-"

"Please what?" He rubbed his face forcefully, wiping away the wetness gathered in his eyes. "All of this was the potion. All your eagerness..."

"IT'S NOT TRUE!" Your voice became loud, and you grasped the fabric of his jacket, forcing Bucky to turn to you, his face surprised at your attempt to make him listen. "Why do you think I drank it in the first place? Do you think somebody forced it down my throat?"

"What's the difference, anyway? You didn't want to do any of this on your own accord."

"Did I, really? Have you ever though I just need some courage?"

Before he tried to process your words, you inched his face closer to yours, smashing your lips against his mouth in desperation. Bucky groaned, pressing your warm and soft body to his, his hands travelling down to your lower back. Dear Lord, it was too good to be true, but you were too damn persistent to let him get away from you.

"Sweetheart, do you realize you might regret it later?" He whispered between dropping more little kisses to your face.

"Depends on how good you are." You grunted in return and tucked the strand of his hair behind his ear again.

_______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @navegandoaciegas @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @ladyacrasia @iheartsebastianstan @what-is-your-wish @princessofdarkwinter @mandiiblanche @live---deliciously

[lyrishadow]

Fictober 3:

Prompt 3: “I’ve waited for this.” Fandom: Mass Effect. Title: Until The Date (in the end of it all) Pairing: Sarah Ryder / Kaidan Alenko Rating: m Warnings/Tags: Fluff (purely sickly sweetly)

Kaidan Alenko stood at the kitchen door waiting for Sarah Ryder to walk down the hall of the Tempest; it had been a long journey but having finally beaten the Archon, and taken Meridian. Having finally recovered from the fight, they would be getting their promised date.

"I've waited for this."

"Oh?" Sarah Ryder paused at the closed door to her room as Kaidan Alenko grinned at her. "I'm sorry it took so long."

"Well, death-defying, galaxy saving stunts come first you know." His reply was accompanied by a quirk of an eyebrow "though, I'd not mind if you did less of the death part."

"Noted." She sighed, his arm circling her waist.

"Now, close your eyes." He pushed the access button and guided her inside.

"SAM can you make sure we aren't interrupted for a few hours please?"

"Certainly. Please use the code to let me know when you are available again. Have a lovely evening Pathfinder."

“Thanks, SAM!” Sarah replied.

“Ok, keep your eyes closed,” Kaidan murmured guiding her over past where she thought there ought to have been books and such on the floor.

“You cleaned up in here?”

“Heh, just a little,” Kaidan replied, “I did have a little help setting this up.”

“Can I open my eyes?”

“Now.” Sarah blinked, Kaidan had moved her to the foot of the bed facing towards the room, her giant Blasto was sitting happily on the sofa which was pushed to one end in front of SAM’s hub. Yet in the middle of the room sat a table with candles and a white table cloth, food covered with another colored cloth and a single red rose.

“Kaidan!” she gasped turning to him with a smile “You did all this?” “You know I’d do anything for you? I did have help like I said, Cora found a source for the rose. Jaal helped me with a lot of the food. Liam helped moved furniture - find the furniture actually. I have a few more surprises.” Kaidan’s hand traced her face as he said that his brown eyes meeting her blue ones “but food first.”

“What are we eating? I can’t smell anything?” Sarah asked clearly confused, as Kaidan pulled her chair out and bowed.

“My lady your chair.” He grinned as he lifted a colorful cloth and placed it on her lap.” your napkin. “ Under the cloth on the table was a cleverly sealed selection of foodstuffs.

“Is that steak and mushroom?” Sarah gasped.

“I had mentioned once to Jaal I missed steak from Canada so he went out of his way to find some for me.” Kaidan and Jaal had become good friends since the Angaran had joined the crew. “I wasn’t expecting it, but he was too excited about it to keep it a secret.”

“I see, that is why he was avoiding me?” Sarah laughed.

“Yeah, got to admire him, he wears his heart on his sleeve but he can’t keep some things secret.” Kaidan laughed.”Look at this - fresh greens from Cora’s lab, fruit, and veg from Eos.”

“You did all of this.” Sarah shook her head “When we met, you didn’t even know if you wanted to risk coming here.”

“Well actually” Kaidan blushed “As soon as I saw you, I knew.”

“Kaidan Alenko, are you blushing?”

“Heh, probably.” he chuckled as he served the food and they ate together talking and laughing over the six months or so that had passed in Andromeda.

“Wow, that was good food!”Sarah grinned.

“Good. There is more though.” Kaidan stood and began to clear the table with a cheeky grin. He retrieved a cake from a box on the counter and bought it to the table.

“Sarah?”

“Oh my god… “ Sarah began to laugh. “May I take a photo?”

“Of course.” Kaidan grinned as the Blasto cake sat proudly in the middle of the table. He had worked hard to make this particular surprise. It was a reminder of how Sarah had come to mean so much to him.

It was a large cake for the two of them, but he knew that the leftovers would go to the rest of the crew. So he served a few pieces of cake and they sat talking about the fair and meeting and falling in love.

“So love at first sight huh?”

“Well, yes.” Kaidan blushed “When I first met your dad, at the restaurant. I don’t know if you remember?”

“Oh, I remember!” Sarah grinned “ I was so damn nervous, I invented a reason to leave.”

“Ah. I wish you hadn’t.” Kaidan grinned “I feel like I missed out on a few minutes with you.”

“Dad thought I would be… bait? A lure? I don’t know he wasn’t good at considering feelings.” Sarah sighed “I wish I had known him better, known what made him the way he was.”

“He was right though - and he told me to look after you and Scott.” Kaidan looked down “in case anything happened.”

“You were his second… it made sense,” Sarah suggested but Kaidan shook his head.

“More than that, he was worried about you.” Kaidan looked at Sarah and sighed “I was not sure why he would say that, but I had an irreversible crush on you. So I agreed.”

“Oh, I see.” Sarah shook her head grinning at Kaidan “You know I have had a crush on you since I was in boot camp and you led the biotic training specialist camp.”

“I remember that.” Kaidan nodded “It was meant to be some kind of reward for being promoted. However, it was just more work.”

“Alliance in a nutshell.” Sarah agreed,

“Do you mind if I change the topic and we move to the sofa?” Kaidan asked.”Let me just pass the cake to the masses.”

Clearing the table of the remains of the cake Kaidan unlocked the door and handed it to Scott who was waiting to receive it on the other side. Scott gave him a thumbs up and wave before taking the cake silently and leaving. Kaidan shook his head and closed and locked the door again.

“Your brother is a nut.”

“There is no truer statement,” Sarah replied with a laugh, she sat down next to Blasto, her legs folded underneath her.

Kaidan ran a hand down his pocket to check for the ring box which was still there. It had been a challenge to find an engagement ring but once people found out what he wanted and why they had pooled their knowledge and he was able to produce a very unique, special to Sarah ring. That had been the easy part he now realized.

“Kaidan, are you okay?” Sarah asked concerned.

“Uh yeah. I’m fine.” He exhaled his breath and inhaled calming his nerves as he turned back towards her. She sat with her blasto in her arms.

“Sarah, I can’t imagine spending time apart from you… I don’t want to ever again and..”

“Then let’s get married,” she said her head on an angle, a spark of mischief in her eye.

“Uh…. you could let me ask you.” Kaidan laughed “I was trying.”

“You were killing yourself with nerves. But Kaidan…” she held out her hand and he walked over to her. “You don’t need. to be like that with me you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” He kissed her “So Sarah Hope Ryder will you marry me?”

“ Yes,” she whispered as she kissed him again. He smirked as he pulled out a ring her eyes went wide.

“How did you… oh.” The ring had a stone for every outpost she had helped establish and was made of a metal that Jaal had assured him would last longer than any of them would be alive.

“ With a lot of help. It’s special, just like you are. It’s the Pathfinders engagement ring.” he explained the meaning and kissed her again.

“Kaidan.” she had tears in her eyes “You know I didn’t think I could do this, and I was right - there was no way I could do this alone. I had you, from the beginning I had you. I am so glad I will have you going forward too. " X

[spicycreativity]

Fanfic Appreciation Week Day 7: A Place Where I Can Breathe

Yes, folks, I'm appreciating my own darn fanfic for the final day of Fanfic Appreciation Week because I worked really hard on it and it was a labor of love for/with one of my QPPs, my roommate, the man who got me into Sanders Sides: @\cadeorade-powercade (That's him in the aesthetic board)

Allow me to present the director's commentary for A Place Where I Can Breathe:

Content Warnings: All content warnings mentioned in the fic apply.

Chapter 1: I actually wrote this fairly late in the game. It's meant to serve as a prologue and orient the viewer in the universe, s opposed to staring on Chapter 2, which just throws the viewer in without context. I think it was a good choice, as it also allowed me to introduce the concept of the Sides having power focuses early on.

The Premise: Cade is a Virgil stan and he was getting frustrated looking for Virgil fic. He was finding a lot of stuff written without nuance by young authors, a sort of "by teenagers for teenagers" type deal. We are not teenagers, so we both have a hard time relating to that kind of teen angst fic, as we're not the target audience. So he asked me to write him a Virgil fic and we worked together to identify what plot he wanted, what the Mindscape looked like, and what quirks the Sides have. So a lot of this fic is quite gratuitous and self-indulgent

The Title: Lizzie McAlpine has a song called "Apple Pie" which includes the lyric "I've been running around trying to find a place where I can breathe." Apple Pie SCREAMS Moceit to me, and I had taken notice of the lyric and wanted to use it as the title for a Moceit fic. I didn't really have an idea beyond that, and when Cade asked me to write this fic, I realized it was actually perfect and summed up Virgil's inner struggle quite nicely. So cheers to "A Place Where I Can Breathe," the Moceit Fic That Wasn't

-Cade asked me specifically to include Virgil having a spider and I wrote nearly the whole fic without doing so, then had to go back and sprinkle some references in. I think I managed 2 total.

Chapter 2:

"Uh, how about I hold off on that until I actually see my room?" Virgil stared expectantly at Roman, who bounced on his toes. "Lead on, Macduff."

"That's not the line and you know it," Roman complained, but he turned to lead Virgil to his room. "It's ' lay on, Macduff,' and--"

-This fic was originally supposed to reach a climax with a confrontation between Remus and Roman, and "lay on, Macduff" would come back as a brick joke. Unfortunately, the original ending was a result of me getting tired and lazy, so I had to go back and fix it, and we lost the Roman-Remus confrontation.

It was hard for Virgil to not shudder at the sudden heat and weight on him. With his senses already open and taking in more information than his brain seemed to want to process, touch was an added stressor, more unwanted sensory input.

-Virgil being touch-averse is a direct shoutout to Cade, who is also touch-averse.

Roman had already transformed the living room: metallic streamers of purple and black stretched across the corners of the ceiling, and shiny balloons spelling out A-N-X-E-I-T-Y hovered above the TV.

-Upon first writing, Virgil had already given the upstairs crew his name, so the banner spelled out "VIRIGL" which is way funnier than "ANXEITY." But then his name reveal became a plot point so I had to go back and change it.

-Let! Virgil! Be! Mean!

-Virgil's line about hearing refrigerator noise when Roman talks is another shout-out to Cade, who has leveled that accusation at me

A small, cruel part of him protested at the idea that he would need special treatment and desperately wanted to throw it back in Patton's face. He wasn't a sweetheart, he wasn't a baby. He didn't need to crawl into a blanket fort with Dad just because he was a little stressed.

-Remus calls Janus "Janus Geminus" because I was tired and couldn't come up with a pun. "Geminus" is one of the Roman god Janus' epithets; another is "Pater" meaning "Father." That led to a conversation about Remus deliberately confusing Patton by calling Janus "Daddy," but I couldn't think of a clean way to fit the explanation into the narrative, so I stuck with "Geminus."

Chapter 3:

"There's nothing normal about that! " Roman stared in horror at the coffee massacre Virgil had orchestrated. What had once been a respectable (if not very tasty) cup of black coffee was now part of a 1:1 coffee to milk suspension, the liquid a tasteful shade of tan suitable for business casual trousers or a show-ready chihuahua.

-Cade is a certified Nightmare Man and came up with Virgil's horrifying coffee order after I asked him about it. Keep an eye out for Janus' equally horrifying coffee order later in the fic.

1) Shouts out the fact that Janus is canonically a Dostoevsky fan

Chapter 4:

Janus smiled at him. "Where reason fails, the Devil helps." He fussed with his gloves and straightened his capelet. "It's showtime."

-I fucking love Crime and Punishment. Look at me. Look at me. I fucking love Crime and Punishment. Janus' quoting Raskolnikov serves multiple purposes:

2) Lampshades the fact that Roman just conveniently happened to be alone in the living room, because I didn't want to waste time getting him there. That makes me, the author, the Devil

3) Foreshadows the impending disaster. When Raskolnikov says this line it is because he had planned to commit axe murder. The axe he was planning to steal had been moved, but he finds another, different axe to use. Raskolnikov messes up the murder and ends up killing an innocent witness in addition to his intended target. Janus messes up his manipulation attempt and ends up murdering Roman's self esteem

-I was going to include a reference to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (Remus' line "debauchery and vomit" was originally going to be "blood, love, and rhetoric") but I didn't because... Uh... Hm. Why didn't I do that. Maybe I just forgot about it???

-Roman is too stubborn to manipulate for long and that is a fact.

"I was pretty much done anyway," Remus said. "There's only so much debauchery and vomit you can fit into one story."

-Cade specifically ask me that nobody cry in this fic, but after I had Janus eviscerate Roman I knew he couldn't not cry a little. I kept it to a minimum because there's already a billion fucking fics about [literally any Side] crying on the shoulder of [literally any other Side] and it's really just not interesting to either of us.

-It didn't come up because it doesn't matter, but Thomas dreamed he was participating in the exact Dionysian orgy that took place in The Secret History because it's my fic and I said so.

Chapter 5:

He just sat back and watched and tugged at his hair while Janus spooned mound after mound of crisp white sugar into his mug and Virgil poured his customary eight fluid ounces of milk into his own mug.

-Cade strikes again. Virgil's coffee order is equal amounts milk to coffee; Janus' is equal parts sugar to coffee. He had asked me to include a scene where Roman catches Janus massacring his coffee and is appropriately horrified, but I uhh... Didn't write it. I still might include it as an omake someday.

-I imagine that Roman feels really strongly about dragons vs wyverns, and Remus just pretends to give a shit because he thinks it's funny to wind Roman up. Fortunately for me but unfortunately for my sense of realism in writing, I can't relate because I adore my sister and we get along perfectly almost 100% of the time.

"You shut us down every chance you get!" Remus said, baring his teeth. "How would you like it if your pens never wrote, hm? What would you do with all those thoughts in your head?"

-I do wish I had developed the concept of power focuses a bit more, established rules and such. Basically, Patton is always on the prowl for wrongthink and actively represses it, which in turn breaks or sabotages the Dark Sides' power focus.

Chapter 6: This chapter really should have been Janus and Roman but I was really tired and didn't want to bother with it. Plus, you know, Moceit. This chapter was meant to demonstrate how the characters would get along without Virgil nannying them. There's friction, but everyone is making a conscious, deliberate effort to get along because they love Virgil, and love is a series of choices you make.

I chose "Leo" as the answer for the answer to the crossword clue instead of "Virgo," because my other QPP is a Leo. She'll never read this fic, but I did it anyway because I love her. (Trivia: My sign is Virgo, so it was really a choice between shouting her out and shouting me out, and the last chapter is self-indulgent enough, thank you).

Chapter 7: I was gonna write a fic where all the Sides watched Cats the Musical because I was going through a phase. Then Cade requested this so I combined the two ideas. By this point I was fucking exhausted, and that's the only thing that saved you and the rest of the world from me writing the Sides riffing on the movie scene-by-scene. I could come up with snarky commentary for almost every, if not every single song from the movie.

Most notably, I cut a Patton-Remus interaction where Remus declares his love for Grizabella and Patton gets all staryy-eyed about Remus connecting with the idea of rising above rejection and being loved and accepted only for Remus to shoot him down and explain that he just likes that she got to die in a tire fire.

Other cut scenes include Janus quietly pretending not to go feral over Mister Mistoffelees, Patton full-on fucking sobbing over Grizabella and the kittens, and Logan experiencing a deep, soulful kinship with Munkustrap during Of The Awefull Battle of the Pekes and the Pollices (and henceforth introducing the phrase "like herding cats" into his regular vocabulary

[pastelpunk-3206]

I woke up this morning as per usual, my daily life is rather boring i start the day with breakfast, help pick the wheat from the fields, maybe catch some fish with Mr. Moreau, watch over the little kids in the plains, and finally go into the forest and get firewood for the house and the church, and it's been like this all my life, we live rather simple and we pray to four beings that visited years thousands of years ago we call it “The Last Day” what happened was a war broke out between two large gods in the sky one was named The Grand Serpent and the other was Pierre Chromatique. 

    On the last day the sky glew many colors and flying body parts surrounding a majestic being, she had blue and yellow arms, pink legs, and a white torso and head our pastor says that she and the other flying limbs fought off the great serpent by using a special crystal star that she threw into the beasts mouth destroying both bodies and caused the lands to be covered in dust and smoke. Our pastor claims he was there and saw four goddesses emerge from the rubble. A pink goddess walked to his bleeding body and cried tears on him reviving his cold body, his evidence is his skin and hair being pink and his slow beating heart and his age.

Our pastor is a bit of a crazy old man but we respect him for coming in contact with these goddesses all those years ago, and for his amazing brewing skills. I was going to the forest for more firewood. This time I took a new path to find more sticks I heard growling behind me. It was a giant wolf-like creature with three horns and a multitude of colors around its fur and protruding from its face was a sparkling gemstone. The beast roared and began to chase me, I jumped over roots and under vines, I ran as fast as my legs could take me until I stumbled on a stray branch and fell through the ground into a huge pit. Looking up i saw the beast back off and heard it run off, i explored my surroundings the walls were hard and felt like metal, the floor was cracked, and a pile of old artifacts and materials lay scattered about but one that caught my eye was large sea clam placed on a table, “jackpot” i wondered if a pearl was inside i could sell it and buy sweet roles, opening the clam there was a pearl ut it was the size of my hand, looking up i had to figure out how to escape this room “i need to get help somehow.” the pearl in my hand started to shine brightly and left my hands floating away “Please identify yourself.” i hesitated to speak but i let out my name “J-Jason Summers' ' the pearl spoke again “Greetings, Jason Summers. Please state preferred customization options. “I don't know?” “Default setting selected. Please stand by '' the shell containing the pearl opened and a woman stepped out and she looked at me with a smile and bowed to me “♫ How do you do, my Jason Summers. Thank you for bringing me into the world! I am at your eternal service Welcome to your new Pearl! ♫''

I was so confused on what's going on “u-um who are you exactly?” I asked nervously, “I am your humble pearl, devoted to serving your every wish and command. We pearls are gifted with high ranking gems. We do all sorts of things such as hold your belongings, open your doors for you, and clean.`` She's like a maid and she wishes to serve me?! After thinking I realized how late it was getting “Oh no I'm going to be late! Pearl we have to get this fire wood to the church! Now!” she looked at me then went around picking every stick and bark i dropped and lifted them and placed them into a glowing pearl protruding from her chest “anything else my Jason Summers?” woah “yes actually can you pick up everything here?” Without hesitation her pearl glewed a bright pink and the rubble and artifacts everywhere was stored into her pearl once more “the mess is all clean my Jason Summers” “ok ok one more thing, can you get us out of this pit?” Pearl then lifted me up and jumped extremely high and fast out of the pit, landing back into the forest “ we need to get to the village now before the sun sets!” We both ran to the church and I introduced the pastor to Pearl. “Oh my stars.” He walked up to Pearl and inspected her body. “I've seen you before except your gem was on your forehead.” 

“all pearls have there gems in different locations you must be thinking of another” 

“Jason, where did you find her?” 

“Well I fell into a pit and found a sea shell. She emerged from it and said she was my servant now.” 

“incredible, pearl do you mind if you stay here for a while and help me with some things?” 

“only if my Jason Summers agrees.” i spoke again “yes pearl please stay with the pastor and do what he says please” “yes my Jason Summers'' i walked back home with the wood and ate dinner and went to sleep, i'm going to have to learn more about pearl tomorrow 

[one-spidey-boii]

BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch five

read ch four here

masterlist

an; sorry for posing so late in the day. i hope this chapter makes up for that. i love to hear your feedback!!

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), future smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 2.8k+

edie's pov.

"this is pretty good." peter says with a little smirk on his face. his lips and nose are all i can see as he sits on the couch, still wearing his mask.

he takes another bite of mac and cheese before looking in my direction and shooting me a big cheesy smile.

once he came back i had to explain to him that i did indeed burn my hand on the hot pot of water, fully knowing he wouldn't let me live it down. luckily for me, i'm not the only one who had done something worth making fun of.

"at least i can let myself back into the compound without having to knock." i rebuttal and stick my tongue out at him, "and peter, take you mask off, it's weird watching you eat that way, just a nose and mouth and ew." i end my complaint with a fake shudder.

with an eye roll, peter pulls his mask off his head and takes a spiteful bite of his food. i chuckle at his behavior and excuse myself to the kitchen to clean up.

trying my best to keep my blistered thumb out of contact with anything, cleaning takes me a lot longer than i want it to. i'm about to start the dishwasher when i realize peter still has his bowl in the living room.

"you'd think mr. stark would have a robot to clean the dishes instead of-" i stop my sentence short when im confronted with an empty room, no peter. his finished bowl lay there on the coffee table, with the cheesy fork thrown messily next to it. with a grimace, i pick up after the boy and finally go to finish things up.

it's not like peter to be so...there one minute and gone the next. he's always the one to stick around after all the fun has been had and just, be there. but for the past day, he wasn't. and i know i shouldn't worry about it, being here specifically is stressful, but the more i repeat it over and over again in my head- the more it starts to sound like a really lame excuse.

i let my feet lead me back to my room, hesitating only slightly when i pass peters closed door. it's late, no use in trying to talk to him now. he just needs rest. we both do.

with that thought in mind, i make my way into my room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. i'm already in pajamas, as i wasn't the one who went on patrol tonight.

my room is alarmingly blank. white walls, no pictures, no personality. at one point i plan to decorate it, and hopefully by then, peter will be comfortable enough to help me. a smile grazes my face when i finally sit down on the edge of my bed, it's comfortable, and i silently thank tony for providing the best for peter and i while we stay here.

i peer underneath the bed frame and pull out the black bag that holds my most valuable belongings. i unzip the top and pull out my utility belt, along with all my knives. i give an amused sigh as i think about people's reactions if they were to ever find these. i'll admit, i may have a few too many knives in my possession, but each one comes in handy every time i go out. and let's be real, you can't expect me to go around and pick up each knife i've thrown after every fight.

my ears perk up when a small creak comes from the other side of my bedroom door. the light in the hallway casts a shadow of two feet i can barely see through the crack along the floor. with my breath hitched in my throat, i slowly stand up to not make any noise.

i know the shadow behind the door is peter. and as i tiptoe my way over to the door, i keep a hold of the breath in my throat, so afraid to scare him away. he keeps moving his weight between his feet, causing the hardwood floors to creak with every adjustment. i move one hand to rest against the doorknob, the other barely skimming the white wood of the door. i let go of the air i’m holding and the movement on the other side halts.

i stop too, wanting him to knock or simply open the door. it has only been a day and the lack of interaction from peter is enough to pull on my heartstrings. much to my disappointment, his footsteps retreat back down the hallway and away from me for the umpteenth time today. leaving me to rest my forehead gently against the cold surface of the door.

peter's pov.

no part of me really wanted to leave edie after i finished my food. i wanted to stay and watch movies and tell her about my first night out. i wanted to see if her thumb really was okay. then the nagging part of my brain kicked in and suddenly i couldn't stand the idea of her walking back in the room, seeing me looking like the biggest idiot still in my goddamn suit.

it's small things like that that keep me from knocking on her door too.

i somehow find myself standing in front of her bedroom door. the time is almost past midnight and my hands are sweaty and oh my god there's a stain on my sweatpants and my hair probably looks a mess and i can't do this. i can't do this. what am i doing?

and then i know she's there. on the other side of the door, just waiting. waiting for me to do something, anything. i want to. i want to walk in and flop on her bed and just talk and smile and laugh at her bad jokes, but then she lets out a sigh. a sigh that tells me she's upset, or lonely. so i raise my hand to knock.

and i don't do it. i walk back to my room and close the door behind me.

-

a few awkward days into the future, i'm again- in my room. the past days rushed by as edie and i remained in our separate corners and patrolled when it was our turn, both afraid to make any sort of move, or at least, i was. small greetings in the hallway, eating dinner together in silence, and secret glances cast across the room were really all the contact we had recently. that was, until now.

she snuck up on me like a wild cat- stealth and agility giving her the upper hand as i made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the kitchen. just as i'm about to take my first bite, the entire thing is knocked out of my hand and onto the ground.

i snap my head up to see edie in her black suit, looking smug and proud of herself.

"no time for food, peter, we gotta train." she chirps at me with a smile that she tries her best to hide. i look between her and my ruined sandwich splayed across the floor, clear annoyance taking over my features. she chooses to ignore that, i guess.

"get that spidey suit on. meet you on the mat in five minutes," she calls out as she turns and runs for the training room. i let my eyes follow her figure until she's out of sight, only then do i turn to the mess on the ground and clean it up as fast as i can. i get ready faster than ever, eager to see what she has in store.

i slow down a few feet outside the door from my fast pace, not wanting her to think i'm too excited after she destroyed my afternoon snack. when i get to the room, she's nowhere in sight. looking back now, i don't know why i didn't see it coming.

with a soft grunt, she attacks me from behind and we both tumble to the ground, i'm trapped underneath her on my stomach as she holds one of my arms behind my back.

"gotcha." she whispers in my ear. i almost pass out right there from embarrassment, but i'd be lying if i said i'm not in the mood for some revenge for my sandwich.

i raise my free hand above my head and shoot a web that reaches the ceiling, pulling myself out from under her and away from her reach. with a sly smile beneath my mask, i taunt her, "come and get me now, wolfie."

then she does something i didn't know was even an option. she raises her arm and points it to the ceiling, a hook shoots out of her suit and clamps onto the concrete next to my head. with that, she propels herself upwards and grabs me by the ankle, ultimately taking me down.

now i'm overwhelmed by how bad i'm being beaten. i'm spiderman, why am i struggling so hard right now?

"i came prepared, parker. don't think i didn't learn from last time." edie teases as she walks around me in a wide circle. finally coming to kneel in front of me, she continues, "i have a proposal for you," she pauses to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, "we'll fight, one to one, no weapons or webs, just us. first one down for ten seconds is the loser."

suddenly wanting out of this situation due to utter embarrassment, i speak up, "well, damn, looks like i've been down longer than ten seconds, i must be the los-" she cuts me off.

"no no no, we'll wipe the slate. get up, mr. parker." she offers me a hand, which i reluctantly take, "and to make it interesting- if you win, i'll go on patrol for you tonight. and if i win," she pauses again, eyeing me up and down, "you have to tell me why you've had a stick up your ass this past week."

my eyes widen, i clear my throat and try to come up with a cover story in my head, "wh-what are you talking about? there is no stick up my-" she cuts me off. again.

"save it, peter. there is a piece of wood stuck up your ass and clearly, it's making you a grumpy boy. and hey, you only have to share if i win." she says it with a look that makes me swallow thickly, but i keep my facade up.

"alright then, let's do this."

with that, she unclasps the utility belt that hugs her waist and tosses it to the side, flinching a little at the harsh sound of sharp pangs of metal hitting the concrete. i can't just take my web shooters off, considering they were a part of my suit, but i pledge to her that i won't use them.

the fight is on when she begins circling the blue mat slowly. i follow in suit, raising my arms in a fighting position. in the moments leading up to the first move, i watch her figure waltz along the outskirts of the mat, her hips swaying naturally with each calculated step she takes. her eyes are trained on mine, or at least the expressive ones on my mask.

she charges at me with fire in her eyes, swinging two punches, one left and one right. i dodge both of them easily, simply stepping to each side as her fists fly past my head. edie huffs heavily and moves on to taking jabs at my stomach, only able to hit me once, but i'd be lying if i said it doesn't throw me off a little.

of course, with that moment of weakness, she ruthlessly grabs my arm and flings me over her shoulder, a move i'm growing to hate coming from her. once on the ground, she sits on top of me, thighs pinning down my arms on each side as she begins to count, "one, two, three..."

with a gruff grunt, i flip my legs up and around her neck, knocking her off of me and to the side as i scramble away from her. getting back onto my feet, i pivot around to avoid another angry punch that comes towards my skull. she throws one more, and i catch it in my hand, stopping her movement as she stares at me with shock.

i twist her arm behind her back and push her down on her knees, she lets out a yelp that hurts my heart, until she picks up one foot and jabs me in the leg, making me let out a yelp of my own. edie is instantly back on her feet and this time she goes for my legs again, lunging towards me and tackling me once again, "get ready to spill your guts, parker," she teases. "three, four, five..."

a horrible, mind-bending wash of nerves washes over me and as she gets closer to ten, the more energy i gather to get the girl off of me.

"seven, eight, nine..."

before she reaches ten, i mindlessly grab her by the neck and flip us over, slamming her back into the mat with more force than i realize at the time.

i immediately begin counting in my head as i hold her there with my hand, my arm shaking, breaths loud and heavy.

one, two, three...

her eyes are locked on me, she's wrapping her hands around mine.

four, five, six...

she's clawing at my hands, her eyes desperate and...

seven, eight, nine...

she's scared.

i fling myself off of her. my breathing still ragged and it hurts my lungs with every shaky inhale. i can't meet her eyes. not after they stare into mine with the only emotion i never wanted to see.

she's scared. of me. and suddenly i can't breathe. i collapse back onto the mat with a shallow thud, staring at the ceiling with a foggy haze clouding my vision. it's silent for a while, aside from the sound of our bodies struggling to fill our lungs with air.

"okay. i'm gonna head out. to patrol." edie's voice is soft and airy. and my heart is broken.

-

she left earlier than technically necessary. our patroling hours were from dusk til whenever it felt right to leave the city. she had been gone for a couple of hours and the sun was just now setting.

after what happened, i laid on the mat in the training room for a long time, not able to move as i processed the previous events. eventually, i got up. with sluggish movements, i arrived in my room and successfully stumbled out of my suit and into my bed. that's what i'm doing now. laying in bed and listening to soft music play from my phone, hoping sleep will take over my body sooner rather than later.

i roll from my back onto my side to face the nightstand next to me. a small glimmer of light reflects off of a small piece of technology. my comm. with a sigh, i reach for it and nestle it in my ear before closing my eyes and slipping away.

"pete? peter, i need you to listen to me. please be listening." a small voice pleads in my head. i raise my hand and swipe at it, as if it's a fly buzzing in my ear.

"come on. let me know you're there." the voice sounds off again. this time i open my eyes and acknowledge the words and where they’re coming from. i shoot up in bed, now sitting straight up, wiping the sweat away from my brow.

"edie? i'm here, e." i mumble, not trying to hide the worry in my voice.

she lets out a breath, "oh, oh good. peter i need you to meet me at the back door, the one in the garage."

i nod and spring out of bed, wasting no time to do what she's asked. "pete?" she whispers. it's so soft and so frail in my ear. i gulp nervously at the sound of it.

"i'm coming, hun. almost there." i whisper back as i round the staircase that leads down to the garage. there, through the glass doors, edie stands. more like leans against the clear surface with a weary smile on her face. i watch as she raises her thumb to the finger pad and the doors slide open. i watch as she takes a few slow steps to meet me. i watch her hands as they slide down her left side, coming back up, covered in blood.

and i catch her as she falls forwards, right into my arms.

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