#gonna be honest i hate my job and the thought of spending more time there depresses me

[monarchofthebees]

Up at a ridiculously late time because I'm depressed about overtime.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Back Pain

Summary: After you find Negan on the floor of his cell in pain when he hurt his back, you offer to give him a massage. With how touch starved Negan is, you find yourself taking advantage of the moment and make Negan feel good in other ways.

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50901724

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, smut, little to no plot, hurt/comfort, submissive Negan, dominant reader, praise kink, p*ssy job, begging Negan, etc.

Notes: This is pure filth. Not gonna lie. I thought I would make it innocent at first, but that's not how this story wanted to be written. I hope you enjoy it.

You would never admit this to the rest of the people in Alexandria, but days like these were your favorites. Getting to be the person to go and spend some time with Negan when you gave him his meals for the day actually was something you looked forward to. Many people hated the job, but you took it whenever you could. Talking to Negan was something you enjoyed. Even though people didn’t really give Negan credit, he was quite intelligent and knew a lot about books. You always enjoyed having conversations with him. Sure, he was a bit of a smart ass and was always very inappropriate at times, but you liked it. You liked him. So any chance you could take to do this, you would. And people wouldn’t often fight you on it when you offered. Negan rubbed a lot of the people in Alexandria the wrong way, but you felt like you saw more to him than everyone else did.

Heading down to the cell that they kept Negan in, you clutched tightly to the tray that Negan’s food was on when you didn’t see him sitting at either in the corner of the room or on the cot that they had for him, “Negan?”

“Oh, hey,” Negan’s voice responded raspier than normal causing you to drop your head to see that he was laying on the center of the floor face first on the ground. His head turned toward you and he let out a small groan. “I’m…here.”

“Are you okay?” you wondered noticing that he wasn’t moving much and he let out a hesitant breath.

“I think I pulled out my back,” Negan was honest, his words coming out in a slow slur. His eyebrows bounced up and he let out a groan when he tried to push himself up but let out a hiss when he braced his hands on the floor. “My tennis ball went underneath the cot. I bent down to grab it and well…the rest is history.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, setting his tray of food down on the ground to slide it under the bars for him. “Do you need some help?”

“You trust me enough for that?” Negan managed to pull himself up to his knees, his hands still bracing on the floor when he winced. “Getting older sucks. My back has always been shit, but this fucking cot doesn’t help any.”

“I trust you,” you assured him pulling out the keys to his cell. Opening up the door, you closed it behind you when you entered it and headed over to Negan. Wrapping your arm around his waist, you reached for the other arm and wrapped it around your shoulders. Using your strength, you helped pull him up from the ground and heard him grumble under his breath. “Let’s get you seated.”

“If people could see me now,” Negan winced, his left hand reaching behind him to press over the small of his back. “Big bad Negan pulls out his back and he’s in agony. I’d love to say I hurt it doing something incredibly wild, but nope. Just reaching for a tennis ball.”

“It happens to the best of us,” you cracked a smile and thought about it for a moment. “Do you want me to massage your back for you? Try to help you loosen things up?”

“I don’t know,” Negan began looking toward the window in his room letting out a long sigh. “They really don’t like you in here with me.”

“I could care less what they think. Lay down,” you instructed, getting up from the cot that you were sitting on together. Pushing into Negan’s shoulder, you could see the resistance in his movements before he finally lowered down face first on the cot. Adjusting the pillow under his head, Negan wiggled a bit until he found himself in a comfortable position. “Do I have permission to touch you?”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan grumbled when you carefully lowered down onto the cot with him. Crawling in over him, you rest your knees at his sides. A loud exhale fell from his throat when you lowered your hands to start caressing over his lower back. Watching his body language, you wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to hurt him while you did it. Carefully you caressed further up the length of his long back and then up toward his shoulders. Taking your time, you paid attention to him learning what areas seemed to affect him by his breathing changes. Putting a bit more pressure into your touch had Negan groaning out. “That’s good.”

“Are you sure? You’re shaking,” you noticed, pulling your hands away from Negan when he looked back at you over his shoulder. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No, it’s not that. I just…” Negan turned on his side, visible pain in his face when he stretched his back a certain way. There was embarrassment flooding into his features, when he forced himself to look away from you. “I haven’t been touched in a very long time. Never by someone being gentle or kind at least…”

Frowning, you reached out to palm in over the side of Negan’s face. You were tender in the way you touched his face and Negan let out a tremoring sound. His eyes came to a close, his lips parting when he leaned into your palm showing how much he missed simply just the touch of another person. Cuddling his face in against your palm, you felt your heart rate quicken with the way his short beard tickled at your flesh.

Using your free hand, you outstretched it to drag your fingertips over the top of his hand hearing his breathing getting louder. Stroking tenderly at his flesh, you took your time noticing the way that his shaking got more intense. Hooking your fingers with his, you leaned forward to place a faint kiss over his temple.

“Lay back down,” you commanded and he did as you asked of him. Going back to the original plan, you continued to rub his back. The knots that you had worked on started to loosen up and you noticed that it made Negan much more relaxed beneath you as well. Sliding your palms down Negan’s back, you reached the back of the gray t-shirt that he was wearing. Tugging faintly at the material, you managed to sneak your fingers in underneath it for your fingers to come in contact with the warmth of his flesh. The sound Negan made showed you that he was alright with it. A breath caught in your throat as your touch raised up toward his shoulders. There was no question that he was enjoying what you were doing by the sounds that he was making. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” Negan breathed out, his head cuddling in closer to the pillow. Dragging your hands down Negan’s back, this time you slid your hands down over his sides and toward his lower abdomen. That had his back arching up and you repeated the motion up again. Multiple times you did the same thing and what sounded like a moan fell from Negan’s throat. “Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” you questioned almost losing your balance over him when Negan pulled himself from underneath you and toward the opposite end of the cot. Almost instinctively he reached for the pillow that he had been laying on and covered the center of his pants with it. An amused sound escaped your lips when Negan’s face flushed over with red.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Negan looked ashamed and you knew what he was insinuating was going on. “I wanted this to be as innocent as possible, but the way you were touching me…”

“That’s okay Negan,” you hushed him, reaching out to place your hand in over his and he seemed to tremor. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” Negan confirmed with you, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. Dropping his head, Negan looked toward the pillow that was covering his lap and he shook his head. “If you want to leave, I will understand. Shit, I wouldn’t blame you.”

Nodding, you stood up from the cot. The expression over Negan’s features showed that he was disappointed at the thought of you leaving and it made your heart flutter in your chest. Stepping forward, you reached for the pillow that was over Negan’s lap and he clung tightly to it. Shaking your head, you hushed him and grabbed the pillow. Setting it beside Negan, your eyes lowered to see the bulge that was at the center of his pants showing that he did get a hard on from what you had been doing.

“Lift your arms,” you instructed with Negan’s hazel eyes locked on yours. At first, he seemed nervous and like he didn’t want to listen, but when your fingers grabbed the bottom of his shirt he obeyed.

“Yes ma’am,” Negan’s tongue dragged out over his bottom lip lifting his arms for you. Pulling his shirt up and over the lengths of his slender abdomen, you tossed the shirt aside and heard him breathe out shakenly. Dragging your fingers across his shoulder had his pupils dilating. His lips parted and he didn’t take his eyes from yours. Teasing your fingers further down over the center of his chest had Negan leaning back against the wall. Stroking over his slender abdomen, you circled your fingers through the dark curls of hair that covered his flesh. It had Negan breathing unevenly and he was trembling again showing how much this was truly heightening everything for him. Sliding your fingers down further, you reached the belt in Negan’s pants and heard him whimper. “What is this?”

“Relax,” you ordered once more not giving him an answer when you started to pull apart the material of the belt. Once you got the material separate, you went for the button in his jeans and unhooked it. Leaning forward, Negan’s lips hovered in over yours. The warmth of his breath lingered, his eyes narrowing with how close you were to him. “You shouldn’t have been treated like this Negan. You deserve better than you were given.”

Negan’s hazel eyes fell to your lips as you dragged the zipper down in his jeans. Faintly your lips dragged over his and it made him let out what sounded like a whimper. Pressing forward, his lips claimed yours in a hungry, passionate kiss. One that surprised even you. Negan’s fingers curled around the back of your neck while the kiss lingered. There wasn’t much time to separate from Negan because he was eager to keep kissing you over and over again. Purring against his lips, you went to pull back, but he was eager to meet you again, his tongue brushing between your lips causing you to place your hand over the center of his chest to stop him.

Tugging at the material of Negan’s jeans, you got them down his long slender legs and tossed them aside after pulling off the boots that he was wearing. Curling your fingers around the back of Negan’s calf muscle, you caressed over his body and watched hm tip his head back. The vein at the side of Negan’s neck was bulging while you squeeze and caressed at the flesh of Negan’s thighs.

The large bulge at the center of Negan’s gray boxer briefs was very evident and you felt your mouth go wet at the sight of it, “We’re going to finish your massage.”

“But…” Negan’s head lowered back down, his lips parted and he looked disappointed to hear you say that. “I thought…”

“We will, just not right now…” you whispered making him frown when you admitted that. “Lay back down on your stomach.”

Following your instructions, Negan did as he was told laying back face down on the cot, getting comfortable again. This time you crawled in over him again and caressed over the planes of his back. Your touch was more sensual making sure to slide over his shoulders, down over the side of his torso, toward the front of his lower abdomen and back toward his lower back.

Adjusting your weight, you moved down lower and allowed your palms to drag down over his small bottom caressing over the flesh. Sliding further down, you squeezed at the back of his thighs and heard him moaning. Sliding your hand between his thighs, you cupped his balls through the material of his boxer briefs and it had him moaning out.

Reaching for Negan’s boxer briefs, you tugged the material down and heard his shuddering exhale that followed. Unhurriedly you exposed Negan’s small ass to your sight and smiled. Caressing at his lower back had his hips arching slightly and you caressed lower.

“Lift,” you instructed sliding your hand around Negan’s side around to the front. Doing what you asked, he arched his hips up slightly allowing your fingers to connect with his rigid manhood. The moan that followed from Negan drew chills to fill your own body. At first your strokes were slow, taking the time to test Negan’s flesh in your grasp. Lowering further in over Negan, you pressed kisses over his earlobe and felt Negan lazily bucking his hips up toward your caresses. “Are you being a good boy or a bad boy?”

“A good boy,” Negan panted, his head stealing a glance back over at you. His eyelids were heavy, his hazel eyes locked on you while you continued to take your time jerking him off.

“You are such a good boy,” you praised him, kissing over his jawline. Another deep, raspy moan fell from his throat when you nibbled at his flesh. “But when I need you to be, you’ll be my bad boy, won’t you?”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan nodded his head, whining when you pulled your hand away from his cock. “Please…please don’t stop…”

Snickering, you caressed over the lengths of Negan’s back and sighed, “Get on your back…”

Shakily he moved on the small cot and stretched out beneath you, his hands settling in over your thighs when you rest yourself on your knees over him. Your eyes fell to his swollen cock and it made you suck at your bottom lip. There was a vulnerability in Negan’s eyes and it was such an interesting thing to see. You weren’t used to this idea of Negan, but you loved it.

“Just lay back, relax and be my good boy,” you praised Negan caressing over the lengths of his lower abdomen and it had him licking his lips again. Curling your left hand around Negan’s girthy shaft, you started to stroke over him again and watch his abdomen sink in with his deep breaths. “I want you to come for me. Do you think you could do that for me?”

Nodding his head, Negan looked down toward your hand watching it pump away at his flesh. Outstretching his hand, he stroked down over the side of your face in a gentle sweep. Turning your head toward his hand, you kissed over the center of his palm before taking his index finger between your lips. Nibbling at the tip had his faint moan filling the small cell and when you took it further into your mouth you had him hissing out.

Sucking at his finger had him panting when your other hand joined to help stroke over Negan’s body. It was throbbing in your grasp and you knew that Negan’s body was eager to come. Hell, he wanted it so bad.

Pulling your mouth away from Negan’s finger with a wet sound, you allowed your grasp to get stronger while you jerked Negan off and felt his hips arching up toward you. Rocking your hips forward had the denim of your jeans rubbing up against the ridge of the tip of his cock and it had him grunting loudly.

You hated to admit it, but this turned you on more than you planned on it doing. Getting up from the cot had Negan whining and you saw his cock twitching with the anticipation of not getting to finish. When he saw that you were undoing your pants, he let out a shuddering breath. The way his eyes ate you alive when you pushed your panties down with your pants and then crawled in over him brought an incredible amount of confidence to you.

Eagerly Negan pushed up onto his hands, his mouth claiming yours again in a passionate sweep. Pressing your hand into the center of his chest, you forced him back down onto the cot. Huffing out, Negan’s hands settled in over your hips giving them soft sweeps with his thumbs. Lowering his left hand, Negan grabbed the base of his erection in attempt to lead his cock to your entrance, but you pulled your hips back and shook your head.

“You’re supposed to be my good boy, don’t be bad…” you warned him watching Negan pout and he nodded his head. “You’re not allowed to enter me. I told you we’ll have sex and you can be in me however you want, but right now it’s just a massage.”

“I don’t understand,” Negan’s hands brushed up and under your shirt, his rough fingertips caressing over your torso. Pushing up the material of your shirt, Negan lifted up enough to pull the cup of your bra down. Taking your breast into his mouth, Negan’s tongue circled your nipple before sucking faintly at the flesh. Pulling back with wet lips, Negan allowed his thumb to circle the bud. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

“You’ll start to understand,” you hushed him, using your left hand to caress over his length. Bringing the tip of it to your wet folds, you traced the swollen head between them. His moan vibrated against your lips and you bit faintly at his bottom lip. “Lay back…”

Pushing into his chest, you forced Negan back on the bed again. Reaching for his hands, you put them over his head and allowed his cock to rest against his lower abdomen. Hovering your hips over his length, you started to rock your hips over Negan’s shaft allowing your sensitive folds to rub up against his cock again and again. Every roll of your hips would have the tip of his cock rubbing against your clitoris and it was giving you the right amount of friction to make this just as pleasurable for you.

“Does that feel good?” you demanded an answer, your free hand reaching to grab a hold of Negan’s jawline to get him to stare up at you. “Do you like this kind of massage?”

“So much,” Negan growled against your lips when he lifted up enough to kiss you again. You put a lot of power into the rolls of your thrusts and you hoped the sounds the two of you were making wouldn’t draw the attention of those outside. “You’re teasing me.”

“I am,” you hushed him sucking at his bottom lip, dragging your tongue out over his flesh. “I’m going to let you do whatever you want to me, but we’re going to give that back a rest for today. Let it heal and then tomorrow, this pussy is completely yours.”

“You could ride me,” Negan begged against your lips, his breathing broken with his eyebrows furrowing while you continued to rub up against his cock. Shaking your head, you felt your heart hammering inside of your chest and this was doing wonders on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You were so wet and you could hear it by the way you were rubbing up against Negan. “Please.”

“No,” you shook your head, keeping his hands forced above his head. Hot, wet kisses were pressed over his lips while his moans grew louder.

“I’m begging you,” Negan huffed against your flesh, his hazel eyes rolling back to a close while you used his cock for both yours and his pleasure.

“You want to come inside of me?” you inquired watching Negan desperately nod his head. His dimples were prominent, his eyes full of lust and want for you. “You want to be balls deep inside of me?”

“I do,” he whined, lifting his head to see that there was precum developing at the tip while you continued to rub your pussy up against the length of his cock. It was a wet sensation and he loved it, but he was so desperate for more. “I promise it will feel so good.”

“This already feels good,” you corrected him cooing out with the friction it caused against your clit. “I promise you, tomorrow you can fill me with your cum you beautiful, gorgeous man.”

“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” he whined once more and you tsked against his lips, pulling your hips up and away from him. Your own body hated that move, but you were trying to make a point of who was in charge. “Maybe just the tip?”

“If I get the tip inside of me, I’m gonna want the whole thing beautiful,” you licked at his lips drawing Negan to moan once more. “I can stop all together if you want. You’re being a bad boy Negan.”

“No. No, please,” Negan begged once more, his expression growing more upset. “I promise to be a good boy.”

“Of course you do,” you smiled using your hand that wasn’t holding his wrists above his head to drag your fingers through his wet hair. Adjusting your hips over him again, Negan was eager to arch his hips up toward you to have you rubbing yourself over his throbbing manhood. “You have such a pretty cock. You know that?”

“I do?” he breathed out and you smiled. You didn’t realize you had it in you to be such a dominant in a situation like this, but Negan was so touch starved that it was easy for him to be your submissive. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

Lowering yourself closer to him, you released Negan’s wrists and felt him wrapping his arms around you while you upped the speed of you rubbing your pussy up against his erection. Your cries grew louder, matching the sounds that Negan was making. Between kisses, Negan would steal quick looks to see what was happening between the two of you. There were chills flooding your body, your pulse jumping in your throat when you cried out.

One over exaggerated roll of your hips with him arching up led the tip of his cock to enter your wet and ready entrance when you slid back. It immediately made you moan out against Negan’s mouth when his thick cock stretched you on your rock back. Digging your nails into his shoulder had him hissing out and you lifted your head to stare into his desperate hazel eyes.

“You bad boy,” you shook your head feeling the ache with having Negan’s cock inside of you. Your movements stopped and Negan threw his head back.

“I’m so sorry. It was an accident, I swear,” Negan pled with you, seeing that you were unhurriedly sinking down over his cock. Once you had him filling you to the brim, you rocked your hips in a circular motion over him. You told yourself you wouldn’t let this happen, but fuck it felt so good with him inside of you. Neither one of you were going to last much longer. But hell, you were going to take advantage of it. Starting to bounce your hips over his length powerfully had his moan raspy and his eyebrows furrowing. “You feel so good. So wet…so tight…”

Your movements were strong and steady setting a pace between the two of you that had the cot squeaking with the motions. You were still laying over Negan having his hips bouncing up toward your movements eagerly. The wet sounds of your bodies moving in unison grew louder. Negan’s left hand was caressing over the back of your neck, urging you to his lips while his right reached between you to allow his thumb to caress over your clitoris. With your motions, you helped aid to that friction and fuck it felt so good.

“Negan,” you panted his name, tossing your head back feeling your thighs start to tremor and shake against him. Burying your nose against the side of his neck, you paused your movements over him when you felt your walls clenching tightly to Negan’s cock after you orgasmed with him inside of you. Panting against his flesh you were in awe of the way he caressed over your neck and his other hand slid around to palm over your bottom.

“Permission for me to come?” Negan requested and you laughed, gaining enough strength to bounce your hips over him repeatedly. Winces became more frequent from his throat when you felt the first twitch of his cock inside of you. The warmth of Negan’s release was felt and you looked down between the two of you to see his cum dripping down the base of his cock and your mixed fluids pooling at his groin. It surprised you how Negan clung to you when he came, desperate to kiss you and hold you close while you milked him completely of his release. Falling in over his chest, you stroked your fingers over the center of it and heard him breathing loudly. “If you don’t punish me and you still want it, I promise I will make tomorrow perfect. It will be all about you and only you.”

“This wasn’t all that bad Negan,” you slurred, tracing your fingertips over his wet lips noticing that he was nervous about how you would respond to things. “It actually felt pretty nice, didn’t it?”

“Yes ma’am,” he growled, rolling you over onto your back with him over you. A thick rumble of a moan fell from his throat when he pulled his hips back allowing his cock to pull from you.

“You filled me up good, didn’t you?” you stroked your fingers through his wet hair and he gave you a single nod. “Maybe you should clean up your mess. Don’t you think?”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan smirked kissing your lips one final time before peppering kisses down over the lengths of your body. In this moment you found yourself thankful that Negan was so touch starved to begin with because you were certain now after everything you could tell Negan to jump and he would ask how high.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​ @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor​ @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish​ @labyrinthofheartagrams​  @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan​ @redmercysugar @caprithebunny​ @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth​ @a-girl-interupted @akumune​ @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx​  @insertneganhere​ @haleygreen23​ @xhannahbananax03​ @sanctuaryforthelost​ @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight​  @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @promiscuousbarnes​ @tone-stark @lanadelnegan

[aliensupastar]

not wrong, but not right

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: You do your best to keep your head down at your job. When that doesn't work, Carmy's there for you anyways.

Part II Part III

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, depiction of an eating disorder, vent fic, fainting, hospitals, slightly one-sided romantic feelings?

A/N: PLEASE mind the warnings! as mentioned, this is a vent fic with a reader that has an eating disorder. mostly made for my own comfort/self-indulgence, but i thought i’d post it anyways. title inspired by "ode to the mets" by the strokes, gif by heardchef <3

All things considered, your job could be worse. Honestly, you feel like you lucked out a bit, your hiring process being expedited due to Marcus being the one to recommend you to his boss, given that they needed new workers for their newly opened restaurant — you knew it was a good idea to stay in touch with that guy after high school. 

Working front-of-house with Richie could get overwhelming, to say the least. Dealing with him your first few weeks took a lot of adjustment, and a lot of holding back from calling him every foul name in the book. But it all smoothened out eventually. Your coworkers were nice, the pay was decent, the train ride was short. And your boss… well, it didn’t hurt that your boss was nice to look at. 

You’re a little embarrassed by it. You spend a little too much time looking at him when you’re supposed to be focused on your prep, and you always stop by the back office to say goodnight before you clock out, but you think you’ve kept it subtle enough to go unnoticed. You’ve gotten a little too good at that, going unnoticed. 

“Need me to do anything else before I head out?” You lean against the doorway of the tiny office as you say it, backpack already on and your jacket draped over your arms. Carmy’s sitting in his desk chair, bent over some paperwork and looking a little surprised at your question.

“Uh, no, we’re good here. But if you wanna stick around for a bit, Syd and I are makin’ something out of the food we were gonna have to throw out tonight, you could take some of it home with you. Save time on dinner.” He offers with a small smile. You hate the temptation that immediately springs up in you, because you want so badly to take him up on it. The smell of food in the kitchen is always mouthwatering, and when Carmy’s making dishes instead of being on expo, it somehow smells even better. 

You’ve never even tried Carmy’s cooking. You work for one of the most excellent chefs in the country, and you can’t even answer with an honest opinion when people ask you if the food at the restaurant is good. 

Despite all that, you shake your head, using the excuse of wanting to catch your train before it gets dark out, and he takes that easily. 

“Heard.” He nods, looking like he might want to say more. “Well, thank you, for showin’ up today. You were great.”

“Thank you, chef.” You reply, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the praise. “Goodnight, Carm.” 

Before you can change your mind, you turn and walk away, clocking out quickly, but you still hear him say “Night!” from behind you. 

When you make it onto a train car, safely on your way back to your apartment, you finally let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Maybe some other day, you think to yourself. It’ll be worth it to try the food some other day.

It had been one incident. That’s what you swore to yourself: one incident, one slip up, and it would never happen again. Besides, you think — or rather, hoped — Carmy’s forgotten about it. It was months ago, and things moved quickly in the restaurant, no time to dwell on things, especially not for the guy who has to run it. 

You’d gone out to the back alley of The Bear for a short break. You’d seen the others do it a million times, mostly for smoke breaks, but you didn’t need a cigarette. You needed to sit down, give yourself a chance to catch your breath as your vision started to swim and your ears felt like they had been filled with cotton. And, well, usually you didn’t need breaks like that, usually you didn’t allow yourself to take them like the others did, but there was a lull between the lunch and dinner rush and Richie didn’t need your help in the front, so you quietly slipped out the back door while hastily putting your coat on. Just this once, you let yourself slump against the wall, sliding down until you were sat on the pavement. You don’t even remember your consciousness fading, just your heartbeat thrumming in your ears while your eyes slipped shut. 

Carmy found you like that. He had barely noticed your extended absence, too busy catching up on more paperwork in his office before the dinner crowd poured in, and he decided he needed a smoke. It had almost startled him when he finally did notice you sitting there, your presence so quiet it took him a few seconds, before he also noticed you were asleep. He couldn’t blame you for that. He could use a fuckin’ nap these days. 

Still, he walked over and leaned down, nudging your shoulder with his hand to rouse you, muttering a quiet “hey.” But you didn’t wake, not even after a couple more pokes. And then he started to worry. 

When you came to, it was because of Carmy’s hands on both your cheeks, gently patting your face, his blue eyes wide with panic. You flinched a bit, startling at the realisation of what you'd done, swearing under your breath, and that was enough for Carmy to step back. 

“You okay?” He asked, and you nodded quickly on instinct. 

“I’m- fine. Yeah, I’m okay.” You stumbled over your assurance, knowing he didn’t quite believe you from the way he raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

“What are you doing out here? You’re freezin’.” You bite your lip, embarrassed at being caught a bit red-handed, unconscious with your body temperature dropping. You’re usually better than that. Better at hiding behind smiles, concealer over your dark under-eyes, and excuses of being more of a big breakfast person to get out of eating family meals with the rest of your coworkers every afternoon. 

“Just tired. I’m fine.” You reply, hoping that’d be enough of an excuse, because everyone here is a little exhausted all the time. You pull yourself to your feet once he stands up from crouching in front of you, trying to convince him to just brush it off. “I'm good to keep going.”

You almost think that he buys that, before he stares at you a little bit longer, and you try not to shrink under his gaze. 

“People who are fine usually don’t take five minutes to wake up.” He says. You don’t have a comeback. 

“Yes, chef,” is the only thing you can say as you turn and walk back into the kitchen quickly, avoiding eye contact with him and making it through the rest of the day without needing another break, and without giving him a chance to talk to you again before you clock out that day. You don’t even stop by the office to say goodnight.

It was months ago, one time, and it wasn’t supposed to happen again. Not at work, not in the middle of a rush. That was just your luck, you guess, that you would get caught up working front-of-house, running between taking orders with Richie and handing out plates whenever you heard somebody yelling “Hands!” in the back, all while you hadn’t had anything more than water and a coffee in the morning in… fuck, you lost count of the days again. 

You pause to take deep breaths and sips of water when you can, but you guess it wasn’t often enough, because one second you’re picking up plates from the expo station and the next you’re collapsing, taking the dishes with you. 

When you wake up in a hospital bed afterwards, Carmy’s there. Slumped over in a plastic chair that can’t be comfortable, clad in a familiar checkered wool jacket. He’s asleep, but he’s here, and you don’t have the heart to wake him. You have no idea how long you’ve been out, but your heart fills with equal parts guilt and gratitude at the fact that he’s likely been sat by your side for hours. 

You turn your attention away from Carmy for a second, taking in the rest of your surroundings. The cotton hospital gown, the uncomfortably firm mattress beneath you, the beeping of an EKG to your left, and to your right- 

Your breath catches when you see it. An IV bag, steadily dripping fluid into you through the needle in your arm, innocuous but sinister. 

“Shit.” You breathe out. Now you’re panicking. Now you’re cursing yourself for not being able to hold it together long enough to get through a busy hour, and reaching for the bag to get a better look at the text that you hope and pray details it’s nutritional information, but you quickly snatch your hand back when the privacy curtain is peeled away by a nurse checking up on you. 

The sound of the curtain rings scraping against metal wakes Carmy, and the nurse smiles apologetically before turning to you and explaining what you already guessed: you're in ketosis, you fainted due to low blood sugar levels and a high-stress environment, you should take it easy and eat when you get home. You’ll be discharged as soon as your IV bag is finished. Fuck. You nod and smile along with everything she says, lying through your teeth about merely skipping breakfast that morning and thanking her for her time until you can get her to leave you alone again. 

Well, alone with your boss, who’s silent through the whole conversation.

You wait for a minute after the nurse leaves, before turning to your right and carefully lifting yourself onto your knees to tug the IV bag off its hook and flip it over, desperately scanning the printed text. You can’t even bring yourself to care that Carmy’s there anymore, even when you can feel his eyes on you, witnessing your silent panic. You can’t help it. 

You swear under your breath once you find what you’re looking for. When you do the math in your head, it’s- fuck- it’s hundreds of calories that they’re pumping into you. You hang the bag up and sit back, defeated, unable to do anything but fiddle with the thin blanket draped over your legs and curse yourself for not being more careful. 

“You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Carmy asks gently after a few minutes, breaking the silence. You don’t know why that question makes your eyes fill with tears, even as you shake your head vehemently. 

“Nothing’s going on, Carm. I’m okay.” You tell him, trying to keep your voice neutral. He pauses for a moment, making you think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll drop it. 

“I know what ketosis means, chef.” You hate him a little bit for catching on. You were so sure you were flying under the radar, you could’ve kept your habits unnoticed if you had just not fainted again.

“Well, like I said, I skipped breakfast. I didn’t have time this morning.” 

“Then why didn’t you eat family with us instead?” He insists.

“Because-“ 

“Why aren’t you eating, chef?” 

You know he’s just concerned, as your boss, he can’t have you passing out at work so much. But you also can’t help the irritation that rises in you at his persistence. 

“Fuck you, Carmen,” is all you can come back with, and he scoffs. “I felt weird intruding on family when I never eat with you guys normally. There. I’m sorry me not eating this one time got in the way of my job, it won’t happen again.” You try to explain, but you already know he’ll see through that.  

“One time, along with the other time you fainted out back, and all the times you’ve refused to even taste a new dish we’re tryin’ out.” Your head snaps up, and you finally take a real look at him, taken aback by the fact that he would even be bothered to remember all that. He meets your irritation with nothing but softness in his eyes. “Talk to me.” He pleads. 

You can’t take it. You tear up again, wanting, needing to fight against the temptation to tell him everything because, God, you don’t know how much more you can take. 

“I can’t.” There’s no hiding your emotion anymore, your voice thick with tears. “Carmy- I- I can’t take it.” 

“Take what?” He asks, his voice still gentle.

“Any of it!” You’re full on sobbing now, desperately trying to wipe away your tears with the back of your hand. 

“Hey,” He almost coos, standing to move closer to your bed and wrapping his arms around you, bringing your head to rest on his firm chest, and you let him. You don’t object when his hand moves to pet the back of your head while you gasp for breath through your sobs, and he doesn’t object when your hands land on his back, clinging to the white t-shirt under his coat and relishing in the warmth radiating from him. 

He doesn’t push you to say more. He holds you while you calm down, your breath evening out eventually, enough to speak straight. 

“I can’t tell you, Carmy.” You finally say, practically whimpering. “I can’t get the help you’ll want me to get, because- I can’t stop. I don’t know how, I- I don’t know another way anymore.” 

He doesn’t reply, at first, taking in a deep breath while he lets your words hang in the air. 

“Okay.” He says quietly. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” You’re relieved at his acquiescence. You don’t think you can take fighting with your boss on top of everything else you have going on. 

“Thank you.” You whisper. 

“Can I ask you to promise me something?” He continues, making you pause, before nodding hesitantly. “Let me look out for you. You don’t have to tell me anything, just- don’t keep going at it alone. You’ll just end up back here again. Or, y’know, half-breathing and unconscious in the back alley of my restaurant. Trust me, I know.” 

You contemplate his words for a bit. You know he’s right, and you know you don’t want to end up in the hospital again. And maybe you owe him this one thing, for being here, for not pushing you like you expected him to, for not firing you after you interrupted his whole day with your bullshit. 

“Okay,” You say. “I promise.” He breathes what you think is a sigh of relief, before leaning down and pressing his lips to the top of your head. You stay like that for a little while longer, silent except for the beeping EKG machine and your occasional sniffle. 

“You’re freezing, you know that?” He says suddenly, and it makes you giggle; you haven’t held anyone close in a while, not long enough for them to notice you’re always cold to the touch. You know he’s smiling too, feeling his lips against your hair. 

“Lookin’ out for me might mean letting me borrow this jacket every once in a while.” 

“I’m okay with that.”

[vulturesrottencorpse]

what do people have against closed fantribes??

i see lots of hate for closed fantribes and I honestly don't get it. Actually, I do, sort of, but I also don't.

I used to be one of those people who hated closed fantribes and would rant about them for ages until I found one really amazing one (won't be naming and less "popular" tribes BC I know someone's gonna go out of their way to harass them.) that switched my perspective completely

The main thing people have against them is that they are from an already existing piece of media (wings of fire) which hey that's actually true, that was my reason for hating them, however if you take that logic and apply it to any other thing like adopts, p2u bases, commission art, ect ect, then shouldn't everyone hate that too?

The second, and biggest reason is the prices I guess. People will rant about some certain poptribes (dewwings seem to be the main target) because they're expensive. I have some news for you. The artists who create drawing designs, or any designs from other fantribes, are all INCREDIBLY talented, and artists have the right to price their art how THEY think is fair. I thought everyone knew this but no, apparently not when it comes to this specific thing. Yes, dews can go for over 200$, but that's from auctions where people are actively choosing what they use their money on. You are not forced to buy a dewwing, or any closed fantribe. Me for example, I'm too young for a job or a bank account, yet I own a few, and several other closed fantribe characters, because more often than not there are alternative ways to get them!! I got my rare dewwing for FREE. completely free, through character trading. Some people also take art as payment!! What I'm saying is, 1, artists don't have to cater their prices to how YOU think is fair, they are the artist, they decide how they price. 2, said artists are super talented! Heartspark? WOW, absolutely stunning designs every single time! Honeybee st? GORGEOUS, genuinely makes the best designs I've ever seen (imo), eldragonis? IMMACULATE use of colour and anatomy, WOW. and that's just to name the most populous ones! Guys, they are popular for a reason! Their art is amazing, they spend their time creating these gorgeous pieces, just for people to attack them and tell them their prices are too high and not worth it? 3, you do not HAVE to pay money! There will always be ways to get characters from closed species for those who may not have the money to spend, if they didn't, let's be honest, they would fail as a community. Nobody is grabbing you by the throat and screaming at you to spend 200$ on this legendary trait dragon character! So then, why should you care if people who do have that money to spend use it on that? It's their money they can spend it however they want.

Instead of veiwing closed fantribe owners as scummy money hungry evil overlords, and start viewing them as they are, artists making a living by doing what they love!

(psssst, this post isn't an invitation to start drama, if U wanna share it opinion plz do it respectfully 😭 <3)

[sillyguy99]

* don't look now, but i lost my shoe.

(Undertale Sans x Reader)

Chapter One: * what's with these homies, dissin' my girl?

[Index | Next]

Notice:

(This story is nearly 5 years old, and though it doesn't show my best work, I decided to post it, just because I stopped it at chapter 18, when there were only 2 more chapters left to finish it. So... I'm gonna give it another shot – making minor edits to make the plot less dramatic and angsty, lol.)

(***Also, since Tumblr has a more limited format: italic texts are from you, the reader, and bold texts are from others.)

• • • • •

You've changed.

The best thing your boss did was to give you that warning.

You shouldn't keep working for the law if you're just gonna be a traitor.

How am I a traitor?

You work 9 to 5, sometimes 8 to 6, for the benefit of monsters.

Now, all of a sudden, our sex life goes down the drain.

I haven't slept with you since you got that promotion, and that was two whole months ago.

I'm supposed to be your husband, but you've left me in the dry.

I'm tired.

And I refuse to sleep with someone who won't support me in my new job.

Or should I remind you said I wasn't a real detective?

That my degree's 'worth shit', simply because of the field I'm working in these days?

               The rest is an ongoing, fruitless conversation you can't bother yourself with.

               Through reading those texts for what has to be the twentieth time today, you sigh, hiccup, and close your eyes tight, lifting your face slightly to avoid letting tears fall. 

               Barely two hours are left until he comes home to drop off your child, and the mere thought that you have to sleep with him five hours after that makes your stomach twist and churn. You don't want to imagine him naked: panting, heavy, and on top of you again, doing whatever he pleases with little regards to your own limits. Nausea takes over – violent, making you open your eyes and suppress a gag.

               You really, really don't want anything to do with him anymore.

               Yet, he insists you should remain married until your child reaches their eighteenth birthday.

               “At least wait until they're grown up,” he said. “Cuz what's six more years? Be honest with me.” Then, he chuckled. “As ugly as you frown when you see me, I doubt you hate me that much.”

               That had been a year ago.

               Would you really have to wait five more years until your freedom?

               The thought sends chills down your spine.

               While he was a good father, that adjective didn't really fit next to husband. 

               At the beginning of your marriage, yes – he was the best spouse you could ask for.

               Now?

               You'd rather eat drywall than have to spend a single second near him – without your child around, of course.

               With your newest agreement, it felt more as if your husband were a client, his payment being not making your life hell, and your service what he claimed was something a wife should be willing to give twenty-four seven.

               You shake your head and search for a distraction amongst the people surrounding the bar, aware you can only end up worse if you continue to dwell on the subject. The air presses down on you hot and heavy, a feeling that only increases the more time you stay seated without doing anything for your growing aches. Your sole companion is your mind when you realize you're too overcome with emotions to talk to someone without scaring them off. Chatter drowns out coherent thinking and sensory overload begins to show by how difficult breathing becomes. Seeking an escape route, you hold the bartender back with a raised hand and an 'excuse me'. Then, you ask him for some bottled water – the only kind he could touch willingly. Small embers flutter around the air as he turns around, leaving you alone with burning cheeks and a pounding headache. 

               Groaning, you pinch the bridge of your nose and blink through your blurry vision. Then, you adjust your glasses – despite knowing the excess shots have pretty much screwed you over already. The hour marked on your phone surfaces a sigh. How fast time seems to be going makes you notice you currently only have around an hour left before your husband arrives with your child. They would be staying with you while he went off to work, and the least you wanted was to look washed up for his arrival.

               "need somethin' else, pal?"

               You jolt at the new voice, deep and hearty.

               Reluctantly, you cast your gaze up to see a skeleton monster standing behind the counter, now glossy with polish. His face is tough to make out with the blurriness, yet you can tell he's looking at you. From the way he stands behind the counter and the stuffy look his suit gives off with its pristine and exaggerated formality, you figure he's a new employee. His newbie appearance doesn't erase the warm and welcoming aura most bartenders appear to carry by default, however. Instead, it makes his smile and words more genuine in his approach.

               It takes you a while to respond aside from shaking your head – mind hazy and disoriented. You thank him and sweep the water bottle off the counter, then turn the lid open, breathe in deep, and take a series of long, greedy gulps. Finally, you set it back down, more than half of it already gone.

               One more screw up, and you were out of your job at the law department for good.

               It doesn't help that you're currently hanging out at a place strictly and utterly forbidden by your boss: a hole-in-the-wall bar and grill establishment open to all, kept family-friendly during the day and becoming more daring during the night. It has been long since you ever drank alcohol of any sort, and it's beginning to show. You can hardly sit without tumbling pitifully to the side.

               “hey.”

               You're snapped back toward reality through the feeling of someone resting their arms over the counter, facing you and waiting for your return. 

               You frown and look up from the water bottle to see the same skeleton – his previous stuffy appearance appearing more natural now that he's taken off his tie and left two of the shirt's buttons unfastened.

               "i’m no expert on humans, but you look like you could use someone to talk to."

               You feel hazy again.

               And whether due to the drinks or the heat, you're not too certain of.

               But – right now – you're positive about one thing. 

               “U- Um…”

               As you wipe a tear off your cheek and burst out half a sob and half a laugh, you realize you really could use someone to talk to.

               “Thank you.”

[epicfranb]

Rewatching Kino's Journey and I'm like Kino is so non-binary coded. But then episode 4 comes around and it's such major honest to god non-binary coding, I'm not even sure if it's unintentional anymore. So here's my little essay about it, ig.

Fair warning for potential spoilers under the cut! Before reading, I highly suggest watching this anime (it's really good) or just the episode in question. You don't really need any context for this, other than the basic premise of the show: Kino travels with a sentient motorcycle called Hermes. As for where to watch it, I always watch on aniwave.to. Again, this is episode 4, so go watch it!!

Since this is about the non-binary coding, I'm gonna keep the summaries short and to the point. The backstory starts with Kino saying she doesn't remember her past name anymore, but expresses the only thing she remembers about it being the bullying. This moment in itself doesn't have an obvious meaning, it is purely symbolic. The episode starts with her in a field of the flowers she was named after, long after she forgot her name; she is there later as a child, starting a new life with a new name; and it ends with her as an adult, which is the moment that leads to the scene in the beginning, nicely looping back in this circle-like narrative. This has more to do with the general ideas of freedom that the show has, rather than specifically to the topic of this essay. I just thought it was interesting how it explicitly shown that she did not like her birth name.

To avoid confusion from this point on, I'm going to refer to Kino the main character as "this girl". This is because she meets a traveler named Kino. The two spend a lot of time together, and the girl explains to the traveler the tradition of this country. This is that when children turn 12, they get an operation to "become an adult". Children are free to do whatever they like, while adults must work and nothing else, and, since this is such a big burden, they get an operation to always be happy despite it.

The girl asks if Kino has a job, and Kino says that traveling is his job. The girl then asks, "Do you hate your job?" and Kino says "No, I like it." and the girl says "Then it's not a job."

Kino realizes this is kind of fucked up and is visibly conflicted on whether he should leave the place as is, or help this girl he's made friends with somehow. He talks to this girl about the tradition, and this exchange happens:

In a world with such a clear distinction between a child and adult, it is unthinkable to the girl that someone could just be neither. This man is grown up, but he does what he likes. And he doesn't even have an answer for "what" he is. He's just "a man named Kino, that's all. And I'm on a journey."

"Doing what you like to do?" The girl asks.

"That's right, I like traveling." Kino says.

He asks the girl what she likes to do. She says she loves singing! He suggests she then should become a singer. She says she can't, because she has to grow up and take over her family's business. But it's fine, because it's about to be her operation and day and she "will be happy, even if she has to work at the inn".

The next day, the girl is conflicted. She asks her parents if it is necessary to have the operation. "Is there no other way that I can become an adult by just being myself?" Her parents are terrified and very mad at her, and the whole street gathers up to tell her off, calling her a "failure", "defective", "a waste of a girl", which are also common attitudes towards queer people in our world. They realize it was the traveler that planted the ideas in her head. The traveler agrees that each country has its own customs, and the people allow him to leave peacefully... Except the girl will be killed, for "defying her elders". Her father charges at her with a knife, but Kino shields her and dies. at this point, Hermes, the motorcycle, starts speaking to her.

This exhange continues the theme of "the secret third thing" and the freedom of choice outside of defined norms. Within the norms, it becomes clear in this scene that you either become "an adult" or you die; but, just like the traveler Kino was "a secret third thing", the girl can also run away and continue being herself. That is the third choice she gets here. And she takes it.

She rides away, Hermes giving her instructions on how to ride properly, she breaks the country gates and escapes to the grand outside. She stops and falls over on a field of flowers, the ones she was named after. She looks back and whispers "Kino..." but Hermes assumes it was her introducing herself to him. Surprised he referes to her as Kino, she throws away the last part of her past she had on her and accepts her new name.

Now that we're done with the summary, let's dissect this.

First off, Kino in her childhood looks very feminine. She has long hair, wears a pink dress and a pink headband with a cute bow. And, s we know her from the future, she looks very androgynous, her hair is short, her voice is much lower, she wears masculine clothing and an oversized coat that she got from the traveler.

She changes her looks, she changes her name, from one that she did not like to one that reflected her better, which is something that many trans and non-binary people go through. Here, I want to mention that even the traveler she met also looks sort of androgynous, which is also coding in itself, imo.

In the country where she used to live, there were two ways to live: being a child and being an adult. One did not have any sort of choice in the matter, it was decided for you. This is, of course, similar to the way that we get assigned a gender at birth and are expected to pefectly perform that gender, with no option to switch or be something else.

But young Kino meets a person who defies everything she believed in her life. He's free to go and do whatever he likes, he doesn't fit in the binary of this country, and he grew up free to be himself. This is wild to Kino at first, but she keeps thinking about it and realizing she does want to keep doing things she likes. She doesn't want to get brainwashed into doing things she hates with an unchanging smile on her face. She wants to be herself, to be free. She doesn't get that choice, of course, not while she's still in the country. She admits that becoming an adult like them would be as bad as dying; because she would lose all her personality and individuality. That's when Hermes opens her eyes to this: she DOES have a choice. Actually, this is her only chance to take it. She runs away, and she's finally free, and she throws away her past and continues life under a new name.

Even if all this is unintentional, this episode's themes still speak to the ideas and beliefs of trans and non-binary people. It is an episode about freedom of choice, freedom to be yourself despite what your culture may impose on you. This is an episode about leaving your past behind for a better future. So, in a way, this episode IS about being non-binary.

Thank you for reading!! I hope there aren't any major mistakes in here. If there are, please let me know so I can fix it (kindly, please). Like, obviously I said words like "feminine/masculine/androgynous" which are labels which don't always fit everything they get assigned to. I hope that it's clear that I used them intentionally for the purposes of getting a point across. Hope you enjoyed, and I've convinced you to watch (or rewatch) this awesome anime!! Bye-bye ^_^

[shellshocklove]

I just saw your posts about your porn star Joel story while looking for brat posts lol (I’m loving brat and I’m very curious to see how it’s gonna end!)

I remember reading it back then and I just wanna say, it’s completely okay to not be happy with something you wrote in the past!

With pretty much everything, some people will love it and some people will not. Personally I remember I did feel a bit disgruntled at the ending because things with Joel and the reader didn’t feel as settled as I was hoping for. And that’s totally on me and my expectations and wants! But with the reader being so inexperienced, it didn’t feel like she would be really okay with Joel’s job in the long run so while they did get together at the end, it felt very bittersweet!

But again, that’s just my feelings and thoughts and so many others are super happy with it and loved it.

But the most important thing is how you truly feel about it. I know you’ve already privated it but I just wanna say that it’s totally okay! Things change, feelings change, your writing changes. If you weren’t happy with it anymore, it’s completely okay to hide or remove it. Maybe someday you wanna go back to it or maybe you just never wanna think about it again. And whatever you feel, is totally fine and okay. Sending much love to you 💕

i'm gonna be honest and say that the tone of this ask is difficult to read. it feels like you're telling me it's okay for me to not be happy with it since you were disappointed by the ending.

i've talked about this whole thing at length in other asks, but the story is the favorite thing i've written and it's very dear to my heart. i think i rushed into writing more bc i did love it so much and i wasn't ready to let them go. it was a continuation of them getting together and i think it got confused as a love story where everything was supposed to be tied up in a pretty bow at the end. their situation is complicated, and i always write with some type of realism in mind, and i try to make the characters and their thoughts/feelings as real as i can. which means that they won't behave perfectly in every situation and bc of this joel quitting his job just wasn't realistic to me. i'm left with a feeling of being misunderstood, and that everything i write has to be black or white with no room for grey characters or bittersweet endings, which is something i've written a lot before i started writing for joel.

i was proud of it when i posted the last part and excited to hear people's thoughts. and i know people have every right to either like it or hate it. but i was not proud of it a few hours later, and i felt like a failure, and that i had no business writing stories. and that feeling has stuck with me. i've never felt as insecure about my own writing as i do now after having written that. i'm writing the last part of brat right now, but i keep thinking that i'm gonna get the ending wrong again, and i'm scared to post it when it's finally done. and i feel the same way about my farm!joel series.

maybe i'm just being dramatic and overly sensitive, but it's just how i feel about the whole thing. and all those feelings would come up every time i saw someone leave a like on the fic. i got scared they'd spend their time and effort reading it, and then end up hating it and feel like they'd wasted their time. and that's the reason i wanted to private it. the last two parts are still up, but they can't be reblogged and i've made them harder to find on my blog. i've left them up for the people who have been so extremely kind to me about the story, despite my own negative feelings about it. it's up for them, so they can enjoy it.

i'm sorry if i've misunderstood your intentions with this ask, that is not my intention. i just hope you understand that there is much negativity surrounding this for me.

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Witches and Wizards Job 1-2

More writing! More fanfiction! This one combines two of my loves, the Leverage TV series and The Dresden Files books. It is, as usual for my fanfiction, written at speed, spell-checked only casually. However, this time continuity is a Very Important Thing, so I'm crossing my fingers. Also, since the Dresden writing style is so different from my own, I had someone speed-beta that section solely to check that the 'voice' was right.

The events here take place during Leverage's Season 4, a little after the Hot Potato Job. And at some point before Book 10 of The Dresden Files, but definitely after Book 5. Other than that the timeline's kind of scrungly.

In any case, it's no yet finished, so I don't know how long it's gonna go. It will update once a week here, but it's also up on AO3, where it will update much faster, if you don't wanna wait. Commentary is always appreciated, as would be a cuppa tea.

AO3 Link

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Remember: Tumblr has no algorythm. Reblogs give me life.

1-2 + 3-4 + 5-6 + 7-8 + 9-10-11 + 12-13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21-22 + 23-24-25 + 26-27-28 + 29-30 + 31-32-33 + 34-35-36 + 37-38 + 39-40-41-42-43

ONE

Nate was fighting a one-man battle that he was very much afraid he was losing.

Boston and its surroundings spoke so very loudly of his childhood and younger years. Of times and memories he wanted very hard to forget. He would have pretended they didn't exist if he'd not been in the habit of being punctiliously honest with himself; he'd spend enough years letting a bottle lie to him.

But the truth was, he'd never hated Boston. It was home. The Common greeted him with familiar sights no matter what the season. He could go anywhere, look up, and know where he was by the sight of a familiar landmark, either the good ol' Pru, the timeless Triangle or the brand new Zakim bridge. He had fond, if mosquito-laden, memories of summers spent listening to either Shakespeare in the Park or sneaking into games at Fenway.

That love was coming back to him, no matter how he fought. He'd have to move soon or he might not be able to move at all, not without bleeding once again.

And yet, on that late summer afternoon, with a chilly sea breeze blowing in from Revere to warn the city that autumn was on its way, he lingered before the Eliot Hotel, and felt comfortable in the sights and sounds of a modern metropolis both like and unlike that of his childhood. He even fancied feeling the thrum of the Green Line trains just under his feet, even though he knew that was unlikely in the extreme. Traffic on Newbury blew past him, at its lowest ebb at the moment.

Nate had a meeting. He didn't like the meeting, he didn't like that he'd been asked to come like an errand boy to someone else's beck and call. At the pub he knew every nook, every cranny, every escape route, every weapon. Here, he knew he was at a disadvantage; worse, he couldn't tell how much of one.

But the name on the invitation had trumped all of that.

He trotted up the steps to the gracious hotel and offered the doorman the invitation. The man in his dapper uniform took it and smiled. "Ah, mister Ford." He opened the door for Nate. "You are expected."

"I'm sure I am," Nate muttered, but he still managed to offer a polite thank you. He was himself, as he always was, curling hair slightly rumpled, suit a little too loose here and there where it could have been better tucked in. He looked like a petty businessman who thought too much of himself and wouldn't see a con until it bit him in the arse.

It was a very good facade, and he only surrendered it for meeting clients.

A pert young lady in the hotel's uniform led him to the door attaching the nearby restaurant to the hotel. She held the door open for him with a bright smile.

And she closed and locked it between them.

The place was dark, the chairs up, shades lowered over the windows. The hours on the door proclaimed that it wouldn't be open for another hour, at least. Nate pursed his lips minutely.

"Hello?" he called out into the gloom.

"Mister Ford," a heavily accented voice replied. "Please excuse me, I am… surprised that you came."

"Well, you've got me curious if nothing else, mister Fedorov," Nate explained mildly, advancing in the dark. At the bar he met a man, a little taller than him, dressed in an custom-tailored three-piece charcoal suit with a very plain gold silk tie. The clothes did an exceptional job of hiding the heavy muscle across the man's shoulders, over his chest and along his arms, as well as the bulge of a gun in an underarm holster. Nate wouldn't have known either was there if he'd not expected they would be.

He had blue eyes and dark, curly hair cut and tousled artfully, and he smelled faintly of a very expensive aftershave only to be purchased in Vladivostok. Freshly shaven, his face was full of sharp, predatory angles. He didn't offer his hand, as if he knew Nate wouldn't take it. Instead he poured two cups from a nearby teapot, and the scent of the tea, heady and strong, filled the space between them. There was a laptop and a slim pile of folders behind the teapot.

Nate had run an extensive background on the man and turned up nothing he didn't already know. Vanya Fedorov was the Chief Financial Officer of a small but profitable cybersecurity start-up with offices in Cambridge, US and Cambridge, UK. He was halfway through his third decade of life, a Vladivostok native, he spoke seven languages fluently, and was a geology hobbyist. He was also third-in-line for the command chain of the Eastern Seaboard Russian mafia, after a meteoric rise to power that had him at loggerheads with his own father, the actual man in charge. He was being watched very closely by the real powers back in the Motherland because his uncle, the second-in-command, had all but tapped him already as the heir of preference. He was ruthless, intelligent, driven, ambitious, and his code of morals, if he actually had any, was known only to him. He was, to sum it up, the sort of man Leverage Inc. took down, not the sort they took on as a client.

And yet, here Nate was, having been summoned by a plea for help from, if not the last man on his list, someone pretty damn close to the bottom. He took the cup with a murmured thanks. "So, why am I here, mister Fedorov?" Before the man could speak, Nate lifted a hand. "Literally. Why."

"Vanya, please, mister Ford." When Nate's brows went up at the offered familiarity, the Russian sighed minutely. "A valid question. Believe me. It hurts that I have to come to an Irishman for help, particularly in this city. Particularly in this matter. But in truth, I am… out of my depth. We," he corrected pointedly, "are out of our depth." And with you and your people's reputation, I can only hope you won't be."

Nate sipped at the tea. "You've got my curiosity, and now you've got my attention. Still don't have my services, though."

Vanya snorted humorlessly, and dragged the laptop over. "Did you hear about the fire in Somerville? That fancy restaurant?"

"I don't think it wise for you to confess to any crimes to me, mister Fedorov," Nate pointed out mildly.

At that the Russian did seem amused, however briefly. "We did not do it, mister Ford. It was done to us." He opened the laptop and tapped a few commands before turning it over so Nate could see the screen, split into four separate camera feeds. Two belonged to the restaurant; the others were outside angles, likely from nearby businesses. "A very important member of the organization, a man in good standing, was throwing a private party, an anniversary celebration for his parents. A small thing, just family and friends."

"His friends, or the family's?"

"It was not business," Vanya persisted.

On the screen, Nate watched as one of the restaurant's cameras, aimed at the delivery area and partially covering the kitchen, was thrown into actinic brightness by a massive fireball. Plumes of black smoke quickly overtook the view of the other camera, at the front of the restaurant.

"You were, I am told, in the insurance business," the Russian said mildly. "You know what you are looking at."

"A firebomb." Nate was working hard at keeping a grimace off his face. No one needed a return to the bad old days where the crime syndicates of Boston fought more or less openly on the streets, not giving a damn who got caught in the crossfire.

Vanya's grin was sharp and thin. "I can smell your worry. Let me assure you, Ford. When I say this was not business, I mean it."

Nate couldn't hide his surprise at that. "It was not the Family?"

"It was none of the players," Vanya expanded, further catching him off-guard. "I have looked at them all. I suspected as much, but I had to do my job."

"You suspected. Why?"

"Because this is the latest in a string of attacks." Vanya slid the folders over to him, all but one. "They are not directed at our business. They are not even directed at one family within the business. But they are targeting us, all the same. Innocents are dying and we, I, cannot stop it happening. I am hoping you can."

Nate sucked in a deep breath as he flicked through the folders. A bridge collapse. An accidental lockdown and halon release in an art gallery. A train crash. The attacks, if that's truly what they were, were all over the place; it would be nearly impossible to find a signature, or any sort of commonality. Like the firebomb, they all looked like accidents.

Nate eyed the folder he hadn't been offered. "You have a suspect."

For the first time in their meeting Fedorov looked uncertain. "I have… something. In truth, I don't know what. Understand this, mister Ford. I like my other job. It is not just a thing on paper for me. I like security. I like technology. That job is the only reason I have found this one common thread binding all the incidents." He opened the last folder for Nate.

A dozen or so blurry pictures stared up at the mastermind. They were all of a woman, older, but that was all he could tell. Not one of the shots managed to catch her in more than broad strokes, as if the camera simply refused to focus. It was her, specifically - everyone else around her was perfectly clear, from the man helping her out of the train's wreckage to the two young teenagers escorting her away from some sort of flash flood.

"Who is she?" When Vanya didn't answer, Nate looked up to find the most profoundly uncomfortable look on the Russian's face. "Fedorov, who is she?"

Vanya shifted minutely. It might as well have been a shriek of alarm from a man in his position. Nate blinked. Waited.

"Baba Yaga."

"Excuse me?"

"I know what it sounds like."

"Really? Because it sounds like you're telling me a fairy did this."

"She's not a fairy. Grandmother is much more than that." Anger sharpened Vanya's accent. "She is a power, a dream, a nightmare. Something older than time." He blew out a sharp breath. "I am a rational man, mister Ford. I understand abstraction, I work in cybersecurity, after all. I do not know what to believe, but I must believe something, and I have nothing else." He stared at the pictures. "Unless you and your people find something else."

"We're not monster hunters, Fedorov."

"Then do not hunt a monster. Hunt me an explanation. Hunt me something that makes sense." The Russian tightened one hand into a fist. "Hunt me something I can stop, so innocents stop dying."

"An odd request from a Russian mob enforcer."

Vanya shrugged mildly. "I am a traditional man, mister Ford. I want a return to the old ways, when we offered real protection, not a pretense of it to extort money. When a man's word was worth something more than the bullets he carries or the pain his hands can inflict."

Nate stared at the pictures, at the videos. On the laptop's screen the first responders had finally arrived.

"What if it is Baba Yaga?" he asked, if only because Vanya had offered it as an option, forcing Nate to add it to the list of possibilities and to know what sort of contingencies Fedorov expected from him.

The Russian visibly paled but rallied swiftly, a half-smile curling up his mouth. "Then I guess we will do all we can to find out why she is angry at us, so we can correct the issue and beg her apologies." He let Nate mull on that. "Have I got your services, mister Ford?"

Nate played restlessly with a breath held in his mouth. There had to be a logical explanation, of course. Just because Fedorov hadn't found it didn't mean it wasn't there. But he couldn't readily see one.

What he did see was a man in a tremendously powerful position within the Boston underworld, interested in maintaining the fragile peace between the syndicates and willing to be in Nate's debt to achieve his goals. The latter alone was worth a lot.

He scooped up the folders. "I'll let you know," he said curtly, heading for the restaurant's front door. He paused with his hand on the knob. "Uh, this is a sushi bar, isn't it?"

"A Japanese restaurant, but they do serve excellent sushi."

"Why here? Why not one of your places?"

Vanya smiled wryly. "Because I no longer dare guarantee their safety, but I have yet to find someone willing to fuck with the Japanese."

TWO

"We're not monster hunters, Nate," Eliot said mildly as he nursed a beer and stared at the array of screens before him.

"I know, but -" Nate flapped his hand distractedly. "Just ignore the, ignore the monster angle, alright? We have someone, or a bunch of someones, who are responsible for fourteen so-called accidents. Someone who's doing such a flawless job that no one's caught up onto the fact that they aren't accidents."

"Flawless is right," Hardison pointed out, pulling up on one of the screens blueprints and reports. "Arson investigation, insurance investigations, police, Interpol, private security firms, they all ruled them accidents. But you put all their reports, all their data together, and some really nasty stuff starts taking shape."

"Ugh." Sophie groaned around her coffee cup. "So clever and instead of going after the actual bad guys they go after their wives, their kids, their parents. I thought that just wasn't done."

"It isn't," Eliot confirmed. "Few universal rules in organized crime, but that one's the second biggest: don't target innocents."

"What's the first?" Parker asked.

"Don't talk to the cops," Eliot, Sophie and Nate all replied at the same time.

The team crossed a look, equal parts surprise and amusement.

"I'm not even in organized crime and I know that one," Parker admitted.

"The point," Nate fought to herd the cats back together, "is that this is happening, it's affecting innocents, and it needs to stop. This isn't like one of our usual jobs, obviously, so I do have to ask: are we taking it?"

There was silence.

"I don't know, Nate, I don't like it," Eliot said at last. "Yeah, there were bystanders in at least half those places. There's no way there weren't a few innocent people on that train, or the nitrogen spill in Kuala Lumpur. But if the frigging Russian mob can't pin it down, someone else needs to step up and do the job, yes - I just can't see what the job actually is."

"There's nothing to steal," Parker protested.

"Nothing to hack," Hardison added. "All of these 'accidents' were mechanical in nature. Analog. Even the halon release was a faulty piece of equipment, not software failure. That alone is hinky as hell, halon tech isn't new but it's not old, either, but…" He threw his hands up helplessly.

"Nothing to con." Sophie shrugged gracefully. "Even this woman Fedorov thinks is Baba Yaga, who is she? A victim, the criminal, a bystander, the target?"

"I'd be happy with just being able to see her face," Nate muttered, staring at the collection of blurry pictures on one of the screens.

"I can do that much," Hardison perked up. When everyone's attention came to rest on him, he beamed at them. "Fourteen pictures, that's more than enough to create a composite." His hands flew over the keyboard, and on the screen the fourteen pictures began to spin sedately in orbit around a blank canvas that began to fill up with gradients of gray almost immediately. "She's probably using jamming tech."

"To look… to look blurry?" Eliot blinked at him. "That's only for the movies, isn't it?"

Hardison gave him such a look before returning his attention to the screen. "You know that quote from Clarke, 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is -'"

"'-indistinguishable from magic." Both Eliot and Hardison finished the quote together; Sophie, unseen to anyone but Nate, mouthed the words soundlessly and threw him a chipper little smile. "Yeah, but Hardison -"

"If you've got a smartphone you're carrying enough computing power in your pocket to out-compute anything that's twenty years old. For the record, that includes the first Playstation console and the second."

Eliot frowned, a hand automatically going to his pocket. "I thought you'd just souped up our phones."

"Well, I did that, too," Hardison admitted, typing more commands into his keyboard and staring at the increasingly refined composite on the screen. "Just didn't have to, in the case of some people." He looked meaningfully at Nate, who felt once again as if he had to defend himself from a crime he hadn't committed, or might not even be a crime altogether. "Do something with your phone, man."

"I make calls. I take pictures!" Nate protested.

Hardison rolled his eyes.

"It can play music," Sophie suggested mildly.

"So can the radio in my car," Nate grumbled.

"Nate, I am begging you. Hack something," Hardison pleaded. "Live a little." Before Nate could answer, the hacker stood up and straightened up. "Almost done -"

They all turned to look at the screen, so they were all facing it when it cracked from top to bottom with a sound like a grenade going off, showers of sparks flying in every direction. A massive puff of smoke belched out, and delicate circuitry began to drip out of the blackened guts of the screen, hissing as it struck the floor.

Cautiously, heads peeked up from behind wherever they'd ducked. A fire alarm was screeching shrilly. The loft reeked of molten electronic components. The screen had gone black. A piece of tempered glass fell off and shattered on the floor, making them all jump.

"Um," Hardison said in the silence.

"Hardison!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"It's your equipment!"

"And my equipment doesn't just blow up for no good reason!"

Eliot had no counter for that because he knew, they all knew, that it was true.

"She really is Baba Yaga," Parker breathed.

"Parker, no, just -" Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's not real, alright? Baba Yaga's not real."

"Well, how do you know?" she challenged.

"Yeah, Nate, how do you know?" Sophie, ever willing to be the devil's advocate, echoed.

"I -!" He sighed in exasperation. "She's just not, alright? Can we please move on? Hardison, did you get the finished composite?"

"She's an evil Tooth Fairy, Parker," Eliot whispered to the thief.

"Not the finished one, but a few stages shy of it." Hardison printed out a single sheet of paper and began typing all over again. Somewhere in the guts of the building, heavy fans began to work. The fire alarm fell mercifully silent.

"The Tooth Fairy's not real, Eliot," Parker told him with great kindness, startling the hell out of the hitter.

Eliot sputtered for a moment. "How would you - you don't - how d'you know that?"

Parker had very vivid memories of being told to put her first tooth under her pillow, to have it exchanged for cold hard cash. She had equally vivid memories of feeling a hand sneaking up under her pillow and reacting to defend her property by snatching for a wrist, grabbing for a thumb, and twisting. Hard. "She's just not. It's just your parents." She charged over to where Nate was examining the printout. "I wanna see what Baba Yaga looks like."

"Parker, she's not -" Nate found the printout snatched out of his hands.

"Well, now we have to take the job," Sophie told him quietly. "Or she really will believe Baba Yaga's r-"

"Wait, this isn't Baba Yaga!" Parker protested, her tone betrayed. "This is just the old lady in the museum."

"The what?" Sophie asked blankly.

"In the where?" Nate added.

Hardison got a fire extinguisher.

"The old lady in the painting at the Isabella Gardner Museum," Parker explained.

"There's a painting of this woman at the Gardner Museum?" Nate demanded.

"Mm-hm."

"You went to a museum?" Sophie was stunned. "To actually look at the paintings, not to steal them?"

Parker nodded and beamed. "I have a lifetime membership."

"A… lifetime memb- how?"

"You know when someone stole all those paintings from them way back and they couldn't figure out who and they never recovered them?"

"That was you?"

"No, that was Astrid Somerset and her boyfriend -"

"Somerset, of the Arlington Somersets?" Nate asked, a little taken aback.

Unsurprisingly, he got a shrug and a vague noise in response; Parker didn't care about the woman's pedigree, only her technique. "Lousy thief. Horrible little snob," she growled, then beamed again. "So I stole back the one she hadn't sold yet and gave it back to the museum. And I've been working with them to improve security." Her smile turned mischievous. "You want me to get you in?"

Nate opened his mouth, thought better of it. "Hardison, you've got things here?"

Hardison and Eliot were taking down the neatly parted halves of the screen. The hitter looked nothing if not horrified when he pulled the heavy bit of tech away from the wall and overheated cables stretched gooeily after it like taffy.

"Yeah, we got this, man." Belatedly, as the other three walked away, Hardison called after them. "Nate, take pictures!"

[munariplans]

Omg part 2 was so good i was reading it and i thought the reader was being better and then it all went downhill and now i hate them again 💀 theres a couple things that reader did so apologies if this is a bit long

First when Nat gets mad at reader for working all day and reader doesn’t understand why but “gives in” anyway um i think it’s obvious why shes mad they’ve gone on a trip AWAY FROM WORK to find themselves again and you spend the whole day in your study its not just the fact that reader pretty much ignored nat for that day but also because nat just didn’t want reader to overwork themself because she cares and the reader threw it all back into her face

Second when Nat wants mac and cheese and then again when reader gets takeaway for her once again the reader says the let her win but that annoyed the hell out of me because its very normal for someone who’s pregnant to not want certain foods and crave others if your partner is carrying a whole baby the least you can do is get them these cravings especially if you wife is natasha romanoff come on reader do better also nat probably feels guilty about craving unhealthy foods because i imagine its not something she indulges in too often and i feel like she feels even more guilty about it at times especially when reader makes a comment about it not being healthy because she feels like she’s failing the baby or that the baby isn’t getting what it needs and its her fault (just a fear that this is all a dream and its going to be taken from her)

The whole going out situation someone is insulting your wife and you let them???? Mind blowing because i would’ve beaten the hell out of him for that and how reader just listened to it and seemingly agreed angers me so much cos if they really think that then nat is better off without them also coming home 2 hours late i know reader is entitled to their own time and to have their own fun but don’t tell her you’ll be back for a certain time and be late cos its gonna make nat understandably panic for one with their jobs it’s entirely possible that reader could’ve been attacked or even something could happen to nat and the baby and maybe she just feels safer with reader around especially if its as hard to get contact with other people as reader experienced when they were working but yeah for these two reasons alone i think she was justified

Then the wanda thing first i know reader was just being honest by saying there were feelings but I don’t know if that was the right thing to do because it makes it harder on wanda and also probably still makes her think theres a chance especially cos the reader called her at the end and the fact reader says wanda is the only one that gets them got to me as well because reader doesn’t seem to open up on what they’re feeling but gets mad at everyone and bitter because no one knows and seemingly takes nats side when there doesn’t even have to be sides if they just open up

Anyway sorry this was long but heres my thoughts I honestly wanted reader and nat to work things out but now im not so sure because nat really deserves better so unless reader pulls it together I don’t think they should be with anyone

hahaha never apologise for your long analogies, i’m sure everyone (at least i do) adores it and it provides fresh perspectives and opinions on the story!

you’re always welcome to share your thoughts :-)

[your-divine-ribs]

I’m With the Band Part 8

Words: 1.5k

I’m With the Band Masterlist Main Masterlist

There's an air of excitement over breakfast the next morning, and it's not just the loaded glances that me and Johnny share over the cereal boxes.

Larry has his mobile phone out on the table and it vibrates with a message every few minutes.

"For goodness sake Larry, can't you put that away whilst we're all eating?" My aunt sounds exasperated.

"But mam, it's Reading and bloody Leeds!" Larry exclaims. "Everyone's buzzing for it! First the UK tour, and now this. The band are gonna hit the big time, I just know it!"

"And what are you going to do then if they do?" My aunt says, a serious expression on her face. "Are you going to go and get yourself a proper job?"

"I've got a proper job!" Larry protests, and then he goes into great detail about his role in the band and how important he is, not that my aunt's listening. She's tutting and rolling her eyes, much to Larry's consternation.

"Don't worry son, I think you do a fabulous job!" My uncle says, giving Larry an affectionate slap on the back.

I catch Johnny's eye across the table and he shoots me a huge grin which I return and a warm glow spreads through me. What's wrong with me? I never let guys get under my skin and now here I am, exchanging secretive smiles and blushing like a silly school-girl!

I need to be careful of this one I think, looking down at my cup of tea.

Johnny and Larry disappear soon after breakfast on 'important band business' and I resolve to spend the rest of the day pampering myself ahead of the Manchester gig.

To be honest, even though the whole indie band boy thing really attracts me, I've never been much into going to gigs. The idea of dancing in a sea of sweaty bodies and being pressed up against someone's armpit at the barrier doesn't really fill me with excitement, but I suppose I need to show willing if I'm going to try and get invited on tour with the lads.

I rifle through my wardrobe but everything just looks too dressy, and as for my shoes? I like to impress but the thought of getting my Louboutin heels scuffed makes me feel nauseous. Also I'd be likely to break my neck if I got caught up in a mosh pit. I hate to admit it but I really need to tone it down for tonight.

The good news is my dad has topped up my allowance, and thankfully my aunt has a free day so she agrees to takes me into Liverpool city centre for a shopping spree. Llandudno's High Street just doesn't cut it unfortunately.

"Come on Bells. You ready? All the lads are waiting for ya!"

I'm just finishing applying little wings to my eyeliner when Larry knocks on my bedroom door.

"You can't rush perfection!" I shout out to him, standing back and appraising myself in the full-length mirror.

I had the best intentions of buying purely casual clothing, but something just doesn't feel right when I'm not dressed to kill. I've opted for a skin-tight low-cut tiny black dress which I dress down a little by throwing a denim shirt on top. I finish off the outfit with some fishnets and the docs that I bought grudgingly when I'd asked the shop assistant for some advice on footwear.

I'd cringed at the idea of wearing them rather than my signature heels, but actually, now I'm all dressed up with my make-up just right and my long hair cascading down my back in soft waves I've got to admit I do look the part.

The boys certainly agree. Well... Van in particular is very vocal in his appreciation. Johnny's a little more subtle with a small smile and a modest compliment, which Benji echoes. Bob doesn't say a word after greeting me, but the surreptitious glances he snatches at me make me smile to myself. He's definitely checking me out.

"What the hell? I'm not getting in that!" I wrinkle up my nose as Van grasps the back door handle of a huge white transit style van that's sitting on Larry's driveway.

"Come on Bella! It's not that bad. We've been around the whole country in this. Slept in it and everything!"

I imagine going on tour with the boys in a week's time. Them coming off stage, drenched in sweat and in dire need of a shower, bedding down on sleeping bags in the back of the van. Me lying there, sandwiched between their clammy, stinky bodies. When I envisaged getting hot and sweaty with the boys it wasn't quite what I had in mind.

Benji steps forward to slide his bass guitar case into the back and then turns to me with a smile. "Don't worry, this isn't what we'll be travelling around in next week! We have actually got a proper tour bus booked for that. And we've got a hotel booked in Manchester for tonight. We're only travelling down in this for tonight as the crew are meeting us there."

"Yeah, of course, we wouldn't expect Princess Bella to rough it!" Larry sniggers.

"Princess Bella? I love it!" Van laughs loudly, whilst I glare daggers at Larry.

"Got a massive suite booked for tonight!" Van carries on enthusiastically, using his hands to demonstrate the grand scale. "Wait till ya see it. It's gonna be dead posh. I've already bagged the master bedroom..."

He sidles over at that point, draping an arm over my shoulder and grinning cheekily at me. "Bet the bed's gonna be huge... plenty of room for sharing!"

I steal a glance at Johnny who quickly looks down, fiddling with the fastenings of his guitar case. I side-step quickly away from Van.

"Perfect - there's plenty of room for Larry to share with you then!" I announce.

When we arrive at the venue I'm astounded to see a hoard of fans waiting outside and a queue snaking itself around the outside of the building. I'd not thought for one minute that the band would be so well-known. A little spark of pride lights inside me as we all clamber out the van and immediately hear the fans start to call the boys' names. The girls all seem to be going crazy over Van in particular and it's really not hard to see why. Despite him annoying the hell out of me, I can't deny how gorgeous he is. He stands there waving at the crowd with a dazzling grin, positively glowing as he basks in their adoration. I find myself automatically moving towards him and snaking an arm around his waist. Seeing all these girls losing their shit over him has suddenly made his attractiveness increase a hundred-fold.

"See that Bella?" He says, wonder in his voice. "This is what it's all about. Making music for the fans. Look how excited they are!"

"I didn't realise there'd be so many, there must be hundreds of people here," I say in awe.

"Venue holds 4000 and we've almost sold out," Van says proudly. "Not bad for saying we've not officially released any music yet, eh?"

Some crew from the venue appear and start unloading all the lads' equipment and Benji, Larry, Bob and Johnny all disappear inside, but I hold back, lingering near Van. I can feel the eyes of some of the female fans burning into me with envy and I'm thoroughly enjoying the sensation.

"So how did you get so popular then?" I want to know.

I can see Van practically puffing his chest out as he talks, eager to talk about his band and their increasing popularity.

"We've worked so hard for this, we've not taken any shortcuts. Me and the lads would be out the night before a gig putting flyers up all over town, and then we'd go to festivals and stick CDs of our music under everyone's windscreen wipers in the car park. We turned up at one university campus dressed as ninjas! We just piled out the van, hooked up to a generator and started playing! Shit like that gets you noticed... and of course the music's class!"

"Well... we'll see about that," I say, impressed by his obvious passion but not wanting to show it.

Van looks surprised. "You've still not listened to us?"

"Thought I'd wait until I heard you live. See what all the fuss is about!"

Van grins and grabs hold of my hand tightly, urging me to follow him into the venue. "Well Princess Bella... you are definitely in for a treat!"

I make a show of rolling my eyes but my insides are actually teeming with excited butterflies. I glance back at the fans before I duck inside, shooting them a smug smile.

[ofoceanicscents]

I don’t have title, I only have anger.

These days I have so much anger in me that there is nothing could make me feel better. And I didn’t have a choice but to keep it to myself.

It feels like the world is hating me, playing tricks on me. I always thought I have so much patience (and many says so) but lately I believe, well, the otherwise. People around me (aka my coworker) has better coping mechanism every time they’re angry. They shout it out loud, they throw shady stuff to each other or simply talking about the person that pissing them off. And I can see it helps them to feel better.

Then there is me, I don’t have much guts to express it out loud. Like today, I became very mute and silent even to my close friends because how heated my head was. One of my coworker asked me to prepare something for client immediately. And I know it is important, I couldn’t say no.

I almost have to stay up late yesterday but I decided to just come to the office today (even though today isn’t my shift). Let me tell you, going to the office means you have to put up so much work. You have to wake up early (when you are sleep deprived for weeks), dealing with traffic jam, spend money on the go, putting up make up, dealing with people that you don’t actually want to meet. Friday was supposed to be my rest day, at very least working from home.

Then this person, the one who asked me to prepare a work in a very short amount of time, isn’t a person with the best attitude. She is that kind of person you meet at work who is very smart and hold pretty important title in the project, but is very hard to be nice at people. She talks to her coworker like she is the best, she knows best, she always does the best. To her team, she is more of a bossy leader who assigns each person to their task and she waits them to deliver before she delivers it to the client. She is actually one of the key people, but her attitude? Well not so much.

I have never actually had trouble with her, but today she really pissed me off. I knew that the time was ticking, very limited, and she became very nosy because her client starts to become annoying as well. They asked her to deliver the job at that very moment, I said to her wait a little bit the boss just arrived. She waited, and she asked again. This time I became very stressful. The thing is I have so much things to do at that moment and I have tried my best to deliver the job immediately. As if it wasn’t enough, the internet got down at that very moment. Fuck me. She wanted me to move very quickly and the words she said wasn’t very pleasing to read.

She said, “If you don’t deliver it right now, Katlyn, then it will be useless for us processing it today.” As If I didn’t know that, fuck? Of fucking course I know! You just need to fucking wait, for fuck sake. It wasn’t like I didn’t do anything to actually deliver it as you and your client please. You are not the one who wake up in the morning to go to the office, wait up for the boss to sign up, dealing with ten thousand others task that need to be done at the same time as well. I have never been angry to her but I really got mad at her and snapped right away with text.

She didn’t reply.

And I processed to deliver the job in four minutes.

She said okay thanks.

If I can be honest, I imaginary smacked her head right away. And I became mute the whole day just to press down my anger and sadness. I can understand to be called out if I did something wrong, if I neglected something, if I slowed down my job, if I gave hundred reasons to avoid doing something. But if you lecture me, talking as if I don’t know the urgency of something at the moment when I actually do the job, I’m gonna be pissed. And I have the right to feel so.

All I can say, the long essay I just wrote down is only one of many shits that went down on me this week, specifically since yesterday. It sucks to only have tumblr being the only one who gets to know the detail of my misery, but at the bright side is tumblr can only read or listen, and it doesn’t give bland nor shitty response to my thoughts.

That is a bit comforting to me (and sad, actually).

[girlburnsalive]

Mental health is so bad rn im questioning if it's ever been good. I was excited to graduate school and start the rest of my life but now I'm scared what will happen without that structure. I do need a break but I'm gonna get so sick of my parents if I spend all my time at home. I've lost all my passions and feelings so going to class is just a chore i force myself to do but without anything external forcing me to go outside and keep a regular sleep schedule especially in winter I'm scared I'll be on a downward spiral. But I know I need a break too if I just get a job straight away I'll get even more burnt out. I don't know what to do. I guess I've got to give myself some tasks to do, pick some new goal to work towards. If i don't care then any goal is as good as any other. Anxiety corrupts everything I do, everything becomes terrifying, it's like a fog around everything I can't escape. God I don't know. I actually want meds at this point, before I was too scared of being dependent on anything but now I don't feel like I have a choice, like I am actually unable of controlling my anxiety or being happy on my own. It's a waking nightmare to be completely honest and I can't think my way out of it because the thing that does the thinking is generating the nightmare. Grrrrrrrrrrrrargh. I do have to believe it's going to get better I know life moves like a wave and if I just keep going eventually something will change. But god I feel so defeated

Yeah idk I thought somehow that my anxiety would disappear like that it was a childhood phase I would grow out of once I did enough Cool Shit and i thought i had grown out of it but i was really just suppressing my feelings & covering it up with alcohol at social events lmao. All my life really I dreamed of a magical solution or some dramatic shift that would save me and make me happy and lovable and worthy. But ive moved across the continent twice and changed my gender and if those arent dramatic enough changes then nothing is. My last hope was moving out of my parents i thought. I dont knowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. I dont know. That getting to be on my own would fix me. But now I know it wont I tried having jobs and that was my lowest point. SO i dont think living on my own would be that much different. I want to do it anyway but I have no hope itll fix me. I'm facing the scary prospect that I'm gonna be the same person forever like I can't run away from how my brain works. Horrible actually. Yarghghghghghghghhghghghghgh

I want desperately to be someone else, someone whos attractive and confident and unbothered and doesnt have all these rigid neuroses. But i just feel like its impossible I keep being defeated when I try to become them. It's like I always return to this place of loneliness and alienation and numbness. I fucking hate it here but i'm its bitch it has a hold on me. What the hell do i do???? God

[errythinisblue]

Hey , can you do one with mason where you have all the boy’s round for a movie night and you fall asleep on his lap after a long day of work . Love you 💕

Hey! Thank you for sharing this sweet, cute idea with me! I actually enjoyed writing that for you!!! I hope you’ll like this! Love you too💕

Movie night shenanigans

Mason Mount x Y/N

Summary: Mason knows how bad Thursdays can hit you, so he decided to invite his friends over for a movie night, hoping that this would help you relax.

Warnings: some swear words, that’s all!

gif credits to @masnmount 

Thursdays always seemed to be endless to you. The fourth day of the work week was the day you absolutely loathed because of the incredible amount of work it usually brought with its arrival. You hated Thursdays so much that you started to get annoyed at everything from every Wednesday night. And just like every Wednesday night you would spend with Mason on your sofa under the softest and warmest blanket watching a film, he would tell you to just quit your job, and you would reply to him that there was no way you would do that.

 Yesterday night was no different, and today wasn’t a different Thursday either. The day started with you finding a pile of paper sheets on your desk when you entered your office in the morning; then you had to go through three meetings in the afternoon, and finally you had to sign some papers before you could go back home with a massive headache to take care of.

 Mason was waiting for you at home, and he was currently chatting with Reece and Ben on the sofa; the three of them were pretty much inseparable, especially after their injuries. Mason missed spending time with them, and seen as they could now go out he decided to invite them over for a movie night, knowing that you would appreciate their company and that having them there would help you relax and take your mind off work for the night.

 As he heard your key turning in the lock of the door, he excused himself from the guys while he stood to make his way to you, since he knew you would need the biggest hug ever after going through hell and back as every Thursday would happen.

 “Hey you…” you heard Mason’s soft voice at your back, and a small smile curled your lips slightly as you were finally home with him.

 “Hey…” you told him, your voice sounding weak and tired from a mile away, and as you turned around once you hung your coat you showed your pale face to Mason, who now stood in front of you frowning at the state you were in.

 “You need a hug?” he opened his arms for you to dive into them, while his attention never left you for a second.

 “More like I need a hug and ibuprofen…my head is killing me…” you whined as you rested your forehead on his chest, while his arms wrapped around your worn out body.

 “Oh, I invited the boys over for a movie night… thought it could keep you distracted from work but, I’ll kick them out immediately if you’re not okay, they’ll understand-” he told you as he was leaving sweet kisses on your head.

 “No don’t worry, let them stay…” you smiled at the caring thought he had for you, that alone made you feel instantly better, “I’ll go and take a bath, then I’m gonna take some painkillers and I’ll be okay…”

 “Are you sure?” he looked at you with a serious stare in his eyes.

 “I’m sure, just… think about what you want to eat for dinner, and I’m gonna start cooking as soon as I’m done with-” you said before he stopped you with a peck on your lips.

 “No cooking tonight, I was thinking about ordering some food, Nando’s to be precise…” he smirked at you, as he cradled your face in his hands.

 “You definitely know the way to my heart babe, I would never say no to Nando’s.” you smiled as your face was slowly starting to gain some color back.

 “It looks more like I know the way to your stomach if I’m being honest!” he joked as you slapped him on his shoulder, “Okay okay! I’ll leave you be!” he kissed you tenderly before making his way back to the guys.

 -

 When you got out of the bathtub you were feeling a whole lot better than when you got in, the warm water and the relaxing scent of lavender were the only thing that could really save you after these stressful days at work. The bath even helped easing your headache, as it was now pretty much nonexistent, that alone was enough of a reason for you to smile, since your headaches could get really bad and you hated having them.

 You dressed yourself in a pair of leggings, warm socks and as you would always do, you stole a sweater from Mason’s side of the closet. You couldn’t help it, they were so big and comfy you really couldn’t resist stealing them; especially because even after you washed them, his cologne could still be smelled on the fabric, and you loved smelling his cologne on you.

 You silently padded your way to the living room, where you found the boys going through a list of movies as they tried to choose which one to watch after you had dinner; however, they didn’t seem to notice you, so you tiptoed as slowly as you could to the back of the sofa, with your mind set on scaring the life out of them.

 “HEY!” you shouted, once you thought it was the right time to do so, before they actually had the chance to spot you standing right behind them.

 “What the actual fuck Y/N!?!” Ben groaned as Mason and Reece screamed at his sides.

 “Thought I��d say hello! Wasn’t it nice of me??” you stuck your tongue out at him as you ruffled his hair.

 “Don’t touch my hair woman! You scared me, you don’t deserve to touch my hair.” he pointed a finger at your mischievous face.

 “Whatever Chilwell.” you mocked him, showing him the W sign you made with the thumb and forefinger of both of your hands.

 “I get you feel better baby,” Mason said, “I’m happy about that don’t get me wrong, but you could have at least avoided us a heart attack!”  

 “You’re so whiny boys!” you rolled your eyes at all of them as you sat next to Reece, far away from Mason.

 “Why are you that far baby??” Mason whined, making grabby hands for you to go and sit near him.

 “’Cause Reece is the only one who didn’t say anything to me. And you two don’t deserve my attentions anymore.” you teased them.

 “Well I was actually about to agree with Mason-” Reece started before you stood and distanced yourself from him too.

 “Oh c’mon guys you’re no fun! I’m supposed to be the tired one, but you’re acting like three old men!” it was now your turn to whine, and the boys didn’t even had the time to protest as the doorbell rang, signaling that the food you ordered had finally arrived.

 Mason stood up and after he paid the delivery guy he took the food in your kitchen, where he found you setting the table and preparing the plates you would need to put the food on.

 “Okay guys,” your serious tone made all their faces turn to you, “I think it’s time we call a truce.” you told them as you were taking a seat at the table.

 “I agree!” Mason smiled as he sat next to you; he squeezed your thigh with his hand under the table as he leaned in and kissed your cheek, “I’m happy you’re feeling better baby…” he sweetly told you.

 “Thanks…” you said as you grinned at him; there was no doubt that the boys’ company did you good, as you were back to being your own silly, funny self.

 “Okay now that war is finally over, should we start eating?” Reece chimed in.

 “Leave the love birds alone,” Ben laughed, “the more they’re distracted kissing and looking at each other’s face, the more food there’s left for us!”

 “You’re really a fool if you think she would let you eat her Nando’s Ben!” Mason laughed at him, “I tried once and it didn’t end well for me!”

 “Oh was it that time I made you sleep on the sofa for a week??” you sarcastically asked him, “I can’t remember!”

 “Oh but I do!” Reece burst out laughing, “It was when you kept whining because you missed sleeping with your girl!”

 Ben started to laugh too and you followed him a second later, leaving Mason looking like he wanted to kill Reece with his own two hands.

 “Yeah yeah, keep laughing you all.” he said, before putting some food in his plate and started eating.  

 “C’mon Mase that was a joke man!” Reece laughed again, “There’s no need to be so touchy!”

 “Don’t be mad baby…” you smiled at him before leaned towards him to leave a peck on his bearded jaw.

 “Stop saying that I’m mad. I’m not mad.” he grumbled.

 “Well that surely doesn’t look like it…” Ben said in a low voice.

 “I thought at least you would be by my side Chilly! You traitor!” he whined at Ben, putting his free hand on his chest for a more dramatic effect.

 “Let’s eat before it gets cold guys,” you said, “He’ll sleep on the sofa if he keeps the act up.” You winked at Ben, who couldn’t help but to laugh out loud.

 “Would you please stop??” Mason groaned, “Yeah I was sad because I couldn’t sleep with my girlfriend, what’s so strange about that??”

 “Nothing strange about that Masey,” you caressed the nape of his neck, “but I hoped that taught you that you don’t have to touch my food. And the same goes for you two. I can be very very mean.” you told them as you pointed at them with your fork.

 “You scare me I swear.” Ben looked at you with a plain expression on his features.

 “That’s the plan Chilwell.” you smiled at him before you all finally started eating.

 -

 Once you finished your dinner the boys were kind enough to let you rest on the sofa while they all rearranged the kitchen and cleared the table. They even let you choose the movie since they couldn’t find an agreement on what to watch. You went for a classic, choosing a Marvel movie you knew the boys would like, and then you took your eyes back to their figures moving around the open space kitchen from your blanket cocoon, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight in front of your eyes. They were the best friends and boyfriend you could ever wish for, always taking care of you when you needed them the most.

 “Okay Princess, did you pick a movie yet??” Mason sat down next to you, quickly pulling you to seat on his lap.

 “I went for a Marvel one this time. But that’s not Spider-Man.” you proudly told him as you sat comfortable in his hold.

 “Thank God you saved us! He wanted to watch that movie for the millionth time!” Ben said, throwing his arms in the air as he sat next to Mason with Reece on his other side.

 “How tired are you?” Mason murmured in your ear.

 “I’m okay Mase, really…” you leaned your head on his shoulder and left a kiss on his neck.

 “If you want to go to bed you tell me okay?” he slightly turned his head towards you, looking you in the eyes.

 “Okay…” you told him as the movie was now starting.

 Barely half an hour into the film, you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier. The feeling of Mason’s body under yours was giving you the greatest sense of safety you’ve ever felt, and his body heat was making your muscles relax while the tension from your day left your body. His gentle hand going slowly and softly up and down your spine and the sweet kisses he continuously left on your forehead were like the most irresistible lullaby, the only one that could make you fall asleep in seconds. And that’s what happened.

 “Y/N? Baby wake up, the boys are gone and we have to go to bed…” Mason’s hushed voice woke you up from your slumber as he was still caressing your back.

 “Oh my… I really fell asleep?” you groaned, putting your face in the crook of his neck.

 “We weren’t even halfway through the movie when you drifted off…” he breathed a laugh kissing the tip of your nose.

 “Now I will never hear the end of it from those two dorks…” you mumbled as you were starting to doze off once again.

 “I’ll keep you safe from them, don’t you worry baby.” you felt him smile against your temple, as he stood up from the sofa with you in his arms.

 He carried you to your bedroom and once he helped you change into one of his shirts to sleep into, he tucked you in before he undressed himself and joined you under the duvet.

 “You’re the best boyfriend ever you know?” you slurred in your sleep.

 “Only the best for my girl…” he smiled at that while his hand stroked your cheek, “Now sleep baby, I love you…” you felt him leave a light kiss on your lips before he fell asleep too.

 -

 The morning after you woke up alone in bed. As you stretched your muscles before getting up and out of bed, you heard Mason humming to some soft music in the kitchen. You smiled at the thought of your boyfriend cooking breakfast for the two of you. It was finally Friday and that meant that you could at least enjoy a nice breakfast together before you both had to go to work.

 You were now seating on your bed as you grabbed your phone from the nightstand. As the screen lit up you noticed a message notification from the group chat you shared with Ben, Reece and Mason. When you opened the message your eyes went wide.

 Apparently, Mason made Ben take a photo of you asleep in his arms, while that asshole of your boyfriend was making fun of you by faking being asleep, copying the facial expression you had on.

 “MASON TONY MOUNT!” you yelled as you stood from the bed.

 “Payback is a bitch isn’t it???” he shouted from downstairs.

 “You’re a dead man!!!” you screamed as you heard him laughing out loud.

[onestepbackwards]

I imagine it honestly would be easier for Ingo to keep the reader I the game world, it might be fake, but if he really thought about it - he can't assure the readers safety when they leave for work, who knows what could happen at their work place. At least in the game world they rely on him for safety.

With that, I humbly request yandere Ingo maybe going slightly more overprotective or possessive over reader? Either irl with the work thing (or any other ideas you might have ^^ ) or in game when they interact with other characters, who knows, maybe them being there has made the others self aware as well??

^^ you decide if you wanna slip any nsfw or not in there, I just really wanna see a slightly unhinged Ingo!

Ohh yeah you are right. Yandere!Warden Ingo would be way more willing to do wahtever it takes to keep Reader to himself, and safe at all costs. I’m gonna be honest, this turned out waaaaaaaaaay different than I originally intended. This went in a whole different direction fdjsafdklfdsj Not gonna lie, I also struggled a little bit. I’m not sure how happy I am with this piece, but i’m happier with it than i was with my first draft. I might expand on this later and make Ingo even more unhinged in the future. I hope you enjoy! ♪(´▽｀) Summary: After a horrible day at your day job, Ingo finally puts his foot down, making you see things his way. Perhaps quitting your job is for the better? CW: Yander/Obsessive behavior, Enabling of said behavior, self aware characters, controlling character, brief mentions of a past abusive relationship, thoughts of murder, smut, very slight breeding kink if you squint. Word Count: 3879 words! - - - 🔞18+🔞

It had been a few days since you had accidentally fallen into Ingo’s world. He was quick to chase after you of course, and saved you from an awkward conversation with Volo, and things somewhat fell back into place. Somewhat. With the information that you both could freely cross between his world and your own, Ingo was insistent you spend as much time with him in his world as possible. At first, you didn’t mind. In fact, you enjoyed it! You not only had your loving boyfriend with you, but you actually got to see Pokemon up close! That, and you got to spend quality time with Ingo, that often ended up with you both naked in his bed. However, all nice things must come to an end, you supposed. As much as you loved spending time with Ingo in his world, you had a life in your own. You had a job, a home, and even a few friends and family, even if you didn’t see them that often. So one day back in your world when you brought up going back to work, Ingo seemed hesitant. More hesitant than usual. You both were back in your world, and Ingo was currently making breakfast. You were getting ready for your shift. When you talked about how much you did not want to go, Ingo stilled, before turning to face you. “Then don’t go.” You owlishly blinked at him. “I mean, I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to, but I have to make money to keep the house and feed us, you know this.” You said with a sigh. Ingo sat aside a pancake he had been making, and walked over to you, wrapping you in a hug. “Then come with me, to my world. I could care for us, dear. I can give you a home, food, and all the attention you would ever need.” He urged, and slightly swayed the both of you in his hold. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. “As wonderful as that sounds, you know I can’t. I have too much stuff here right now. Besides, we still have to find a way to get you your memories, and we need this world to do that.” You responded. Ingo gripped you tighter for a moment, before loosening his hold. As much as he hated to admit it, you were right. He couldn’t care less about your house, and your work. He knew he could take care of you. But he knew you were happy in this world. And, like you had mentioned, this world was an important key to unlocking his memories. You were able to help him a lot so far. You showed him the game he originally debuted in, and the sequel. You even showed him the anime, and a little phone game he and his brother were in. He cried when he had seen him and his brother interact, something in his chest yearned to have that once more, and to have you there right by his side when he did. You were doing all you could to help him remember the memories he desperately sought after. If he took you from this world, he risked losing his chance to remember his past, and possibly figure out a way back to his home. Even if the idea of going home in his game was a long shot. He reluctantly let you go from the hug. You gave him a small smile, before reaching up to kiss him. He kissed you back eagerly, and nearly whined when you pulled away. Cupping his face, you rubbed his cheek with your thumb  affectionately. “I’ll try and see if I can leave early today, okay? I’ll be back as soon as possible, I promise.” You assured him. Despite the growing dark feeling budding in his chest, he nodded. After you finished the meal he made you, Ingo reluctantly got to work cleaning your home, though couldn’t stop the feeling in his gut. He really hoped it was nothing. — When Ingo heard the front door open, hours before you were supposed to be home, Ingo couldn’t help but be tense. He was sure it was you, only you two had a key, and he had locked the door after you left that morning. But why were you home so early? Had you managed to leave, like you had said? When he went around the corner to the entry, he was shocked at what he saw. You had obviously been crying, your eyes red and swollen, and you were quietly sniffling. Ingo felt his chest tighten. Immediately, he was by your side. “Love, what’s wrong? Who did this to you?” He asked in a panic as he looked you over, making sure you were okay. He held you by your shoulders, waiting for you to respond. You sniffed a few more times, before beginning to explain. “I… I was at work, right? And just minding my own business, when the head of customer service came up and told me my boyfriend kept calling, asking when I got off work, and what my schedule was. Apparently they kept calling, and the customer service head got fed up. He asked me to tell him to stop, unless it was an emergency.” Ingo stared at you dumbfounded. “But, I haven’t called-” he started, and you nodded. “That’s the thing, you would have called my phone with the landline.” you said, and Ingo tilted his head. He had an awful feeling pooling in his gut. “Then who…?” You looked uncomfortable, and shuffled on your feet. “So, I have this ex boyfriend…” You began, and Ingo felt his ears ring. Ex? You had an ex? His mind was racing a mile a minute. Ingo supposed it made sense. You were a grown adult, no doubt you would have dated before meeting him. However, the thought of you in someone else’s arms, kissing someone else…? It made Ingo sick to his stomach. Only he was allowed to do these things. You sniffed again, and continued. Ingo’s attention snapped back to you. “So… When I told him that no, it couldn’t be my boyfriend, he looked a little annoyed. So I asked him what he said to the caller, and…” You let out a small sob. Ingo felt his heart breaking. “The dumbass just gave him my whole schedule! Not only that, my ex claimed that he was my ‘online boyfriend’, and wanted to surprise me, and asked where I lived!” Tears were falling down your face again. “He just fucking gave him my personal information! Just like that!” Ingo sharply inhaled. He swore he was seeing red. If you two had ended on good terms, Ingo would have still been upset that the guy was still trying to come over to see you, friends or not. He wasn’t comfortable with you being around former romantic partners. In fact, he would have put his foot down. But judging by your reaction, Ingo had a feeling it wasn’t an amicable relationship… Ingo pulled you into a hug, gently caressing the back of your head as you sobbed. “Dear, what happened after that?” he asked quietly, his voice low. He was angry, but had to be gentle. You were very fragile at the moment, and the last thing he wanted was to accidentally hurt you. After a few moments, you gathered enough air to speak again. “I-I called them a fucking dumbass. Why-Why would he just g-give my information away? Doesn’t he know how dangerous that shit i-is?” You hiccuped. You took a moment to try and control your breathing, before continuing. “He was a-annoyed when I got mad. I t-told him it might have been my controlling e-ex… He thought I was exaggerating from annoyance… S-So I clocked out early and left…” you cried. Ingo felt his thoughts come screeching to a halt. Controlling? Had he heard that right? When your phone started going off in your pocket, you forced yourself to calm down, and took out your phone. When you looked at the contact, your face soured, and you reluctantly answered it. Ingo didn’t like this. “What? Why did I- No! I’m not going back in! Do you have any idea how upset I am? How much danger you put me in?” Warning bells were ringing in Ingo’s head, and he stared at the phone you held close. Danger. You were in danger. This job put you in danger. You were arguing with the person on the other end of the line, clearly growing more and more distressed. You were trying to tell them why you left early, and they were attempting to get you to come back. Ingo wasn’t sure what got a hold of him, but he quickly reached out, and snatched the phone out of your hand. Before you could respond, Ingo ended the call. You stared at him dumbfounded. “Ingo, what–” Ingo’s eyes hardened, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You haven’t seen him like this, at least not since you talked with Volo. “They were upsetting you. They put your life at risk.” He stated, his tone cutting deep. You were about to respond, when your phone began ringing from Ingo’s hand once more, the ID being ‘Work’. Ingo hit the ignore button. You sputtered. “Ingo, I-” “You are quitting that job.” He told you, his voice firm. Your jaw dropped. “Ingo! You know I can’t do that! We need-” You began, and your phone began ringing once more. Ingo turned it off, before looking back at you. “No. You are quitting that job, and that’s final. Do you understand me?” He said, and you looked at him, lost. He grabbed your shoulder with his free hand, and gripped it tight. “They deliberately put you in danger, they gave away information that wasn’t theirs to give, they told what I assume was an abusive ex information about you when they shouldn’t have.” You nearly sank backwards under Ingo’s gaze. He only continued. “Then they have the nerve to call you after you very much had a mental breakdown, demanding you come back in and work when you are mentally incapable of doing so at the moment!” He said, slowly beginning to yell as he listed out everything wrong with the whole situation. His grip on you was almost painful. You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish as you struggled to find an argument. Ingo was fully prepared to fight you on this, but was slightly surprised when you finally responded. “Okay.” A beat passed. “Okay?” he asked. With a sniffle, you nodded. “Okay.” Ingo nodded, and handed you the phone. You shuffled on your feet for a moment, then held out your arms for a hug. Ingo gladly took you in his arms, gently rubbing your back. “I can find a job here at home, I guess. We can work something out. You’re right, they put me at risk, and didn’t care. Even if I did go back, he knows my hours now.” you mumbled into his chest. Ingo grit his teeth at the mention of your ex, but continued to hold you. “Thank you, dear. I’m glad you see things my way.” Eventually you both retired to your room, Ingo holding you on the bed while you calmed down. You simply sat and enjoyed his company while he held you close, you laying on top of him as he gently ran his hands through your hair. He practically refused to leave your side since talking with you. Ingo was already fairly clingy, so him sticking to your side didn’t bother you all too much. In fact, you found it rather comforting, especially after the day you’ve had. Eventually, you turned your phone back on, and winced at the missed calls and texts. You were going to have to deal with that sooner or later. Ingo insisted you quit as soon as possible. The sooner you quit, the sooner you don’t have to deal with them. You couldn’t argue with his reasoning. When you messaged them to let them know you were quitting, they tried everything. Demands, threats, begging, and negotiation. One look from Ingo was all it took to help steel your nerves. You didn’t even let them call you. Ingo figured leaving a paper trail would be best anyway. You agreed. Still, even though it was a weight off your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel absolutely drained. Your ex getting involved in your life again, essentially making you quit your job. Ingo making sure you quit your job, and then you spending the rest of the day trying not to cry from how emotionally exhausted you were. 

You felt like you could take a nap for a week. Ingo, meanwhile, was ecstatic. He had done it. He had finally managed to get you to quit that hell hole of a job. He hated how you had to go there nearly every day, and how they treated you, as if you were some expendable machine. You were worth more than they could ever hope to be. That, and he could never guarantee your safety. If something ever happened to you while at work, or traveling to and fro, he would be none the wiser. The thought made him sick to his stomach. You would never be going back. If he sees any of them, they will be dealt with. Swiftly. He glanced down at you, as you stared at your phone, looking over another message your company sent you. He briefly thought about taking your phone again, but decided against it. He continued to run his hand through your hair.

He had other things to worry about. Such as the fact you had an ex out there that possibly knew your location, or at least where you previously worked. Even if you didn’t say he knew your address, he could very well still get it from your former company. They might willingly give it either out of spite, or because they don’t know better. He had to be ready. Ingo looked down at you, you were putting your phone away, and snuggling back into him. At least he could keep you to himself now, here at home. You said you’d find a job here, and he was going to hold you to it. He could put his foot down again if you tried to argue. He had a feeling you wouldn’t resist after he tells you the pros outweigh the cons. Ingo smiled. Surely, you’d see his side of things. You’d be able to see him all the time now! No need to leave, unless it was to go shopping. Even then, that was something he could join you with! He wouldn’t have to worry about you every time you left now! Not to mention you could come to his world all the time now! He wouldn’t even have to make up an excuse to convince you anymore! Ingo knew you enjoyed his world, and you even clung to him whenever you both stayed there. Ingo then let out a sigh, another thought running through his mind. If your ex showed up, he had to be prepared. He didn’t ask about your previous relationship, but he knew it hadn’t been a kind one. A dark feeling began to stir in his chest. Ingo, for once, openly welcomed it. If he saw him. He would kill him. Ingo’s fingers twitched as he nearly reached for his belt, his Pokemon secure in their balls. After all, who’d be able to prove the cause of death if a pokemon killed someone in your world? Assuming they even found a body in the first place. Best people here could prove would be that your ex was mangled in an animal attack. They wouldn’t even be able to grasp just what kind of animal it had been. His glowing silver eyes flickered to you, and fondly watched you nuzzle into his chest. He felt his heartbeat pick up. His pokemon technically don’t exist here. Nearly all of them could end someone with ease, and no ties would be to him. Who would expect an Alakazam or an alpha Kleavor as causes of death? No one. Because under normal circumstances, that wasn’t possible. He glanced over to the tv in your room, which was on some random infographic channel.

Perhaps he should try and convince you to stay in his world primarily? It wouldn’t be hard to protect you there. He could manipulate the code like a puppeteer pulling strings. If, by chance, this ex of yours did find your home, he would be ready. Nothing could get to you in his world. You would be safe. Safe. Right? A stray thought went through Ingo’s mind. What about that odd instance with Volo? He hadn’t gotten around to deleting Volo’s code. You had grown worried doing so would corrupt the game, and destroy his world, so he had reluctantly avoided doing so. Didn’t stop the worry that pooled in his chest when he thought about how Volo had found you. He shouldn’t have been able to be in the Coronet Highlands like that. Not when the game had been on. Anxiety pricked at his chest. Was Volo like him? He wanted to say no, but with how much Ingo had messed with the code, how could he be sure? Has messing with the game affected anyone else? Had you entering the game, changed anything else? Even if it was just Volo, he knew how reckless and delusional the man was. If he got his hands on you… Ingo didn’t want to entertain the thought. What if he had to go through with deleting Volo’s code, and it did just as you said, and corrupted the game? What if you were in the game when it happened? Would it kill you? Turn you into a mess of numbers beyond recognition? Would keeping you in his world truly be the safe option? “Ingo?” Your voice snapped him out of his internal struggle, and he gave you a small smile. “Yes, my dear?”

You looked at him for a moment, before crawling up, and pressing your lips to his. He eagerly reciprocated the kiss, melting into mush with how tenderly you kissed him. You leaned back, and gave him a small smile. “Thank you for being there for me. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You honestly told him, looking so vulnerable and sweet. Ingo was nearly breathless with how loving you were. Ingo sat up, and you moved to straddle his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, and leaned down to kiss you once more. It was slow and tender, you both taking your time with the other. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, and lazily ground into his hips. Ingo groaned into the kiss. Ingo’s hands roamed downward, his thumbs rubbing the elastic on your waistband. You quickly adjusted your hips, and he hooked his fingers onto your waistband, and slowly tugged your pants downward. You were quick to shimmy out of your pants, tossing them somewhere off into your room. Ingo separated from you, and laid his head against your neck. He nibbled on the tender flesh as you sighed, content. Ingo’s hands lightly danced over your underwear, large fingers stroking your slit through the cloth. You keened at the feeling, hands pawing at his coat. Ingo smirked into your neck. Hooking a finger on the side of your underwear, Ingo pulled it to the side, and pressed two fingers in. You practically melted into him as he lazily began to spread you open. Slowly you rocked on his fingers, sighing in pleasure when his fingers curled in a way that sent shivers down your spine. After a few moments, he lifted your hips and unzipped his pants, freeing himself with a sigh of relief. Carefully, he aligned himself to your entrance, and you lowered yourself on his cock. Ingo moaned into your neck, your tight heat delightfully squeezing him. When you were fully seated on him, you both stayed like that for a bit, comfortably enjoying the moment. He filled you so well. Slowly, you ground your hips against his, and let out a cute little moan, and Ingo’s breath wavered. He looked up from your neck, and you looked back at him. Leaning in, he kissed you again. He felt like he could stay like this forever, buried deep inside you, holding you close. Nothing else mattered. You were here in his arms, united with him. Slowly, he lazily thrusted his hips into you. It may not have been rough as the past few times you two have had sex, but it was passionate all the same. You broke away from the kiss for air, and leaned into his neck, panting. “I love you, Ingo.” You moaned out, and Ingo gave a particularly hard thrust in response. He wanted to hear you say those words forever. Quickly, he laid back down, pulling you down with him without any resistance. Gripping your hips with one arm, and holding you close with another. He adjusted his hips just a bit, before he began pistoning his hips up into you. Crying out from the pleasure, you clung to him closer and tightened your legs around him. Ingo sighed at the feeling, you clenched around him so nicely. He loved you so much. You were his, and his alone. He wouldn’t let anyone ever touch you or see you like this. You were his everything. Nothing could take you from him. The thoughts in his head only spurred him on, and he felt himself twitch inside you, his thrusts becoming erratic. You mewled at the feeling, his cock hitting so deep inside you. “Ingo, I’m gonna…” you moaned out, tightening your grip around his neck. “My love… Please come for me.” he whispered back to you, kissing your cheek. With a small cry, you came, your cunt tightening around him. He groaned at the feeling, and hugged you tightly. Thrusting a few more times, Ingo felt the knot in his stomach snap, and he came. Thrusting as deep as he could, he stilled his hips inside you, coating your insides with his cum. He wanted you to take every bit of his seed, and your cunt milked him perfectly. You sighed as you felt him fill you, and relaxed on his chest. He didn’t move to pull out, too comfortable inside of you. You didn’t seem to mind. Gently, he rubbed your back with his hand as you snuggled close, and he lovingly watched over you. He loved you so much. He would do anything for you, to protect you. His eyes darkened as he watched you fall asleep. He had plans to make. Maybe he really should consider having you stay primarily in his world. He could let you still have access to this one of course. It would be easier than fighting you on staying permanently. Now he just had to convince you. With a sigh, Ingo decided he could weigh the pros and cons tomorrow, sleep was calling his name.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

I'll Show You Mine | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends. Long time, no see. I hate my job. 🙃

If you like this fic, please reblog so others can find my stuff 🥰

"Drift off on the floor,

I drag you to shore.

Sweating through the sheets,

Yours gonna drown in your sleep, for sure.

…

All the bad dreams that you hide,

Show me yours, I’ll show you mine"

With the sound of Bucky’s tortured screams, your nightly routine commenced. Just like you’d done the previous night and many nights before that, you jumped out of bed and ran down the hall in the direction of Bucky’s agonized cries. His door wasn’t far from yours, and ever since Wanda moved out of the compound, Bucky was the only other resident on your floor. You were the only one there to check on him when things got rough in the middle of the night, but even if others lived on the same hall, he'd always rather hear your voice behind his door.

A few light knocks paired with a gentle "Bucky?" signaled to him that you’d arrived at his locked door and prompted him to pull it open. He popped his head out like he always did, his face tear-stained and pale with fright. His scarred chest rose and fell rapidly as the adrenaline of his latest nightmare coursed through him, and his hands shook ever so slightly. “Hey, Buck. You doing okay?” Of course, both of you knew the answer was no, but Bucky wasn’t ready to be honest quite yet. “Yeah-I’m good,” he lied through his teeth, “thanks, doll”. 

He'd told you almost all of the dark, twisted memories that resided deep below his brooding surface. But he never wanted to broach the subject of the night terrors that lurked in the darkness, choosing instead to pretend they didn’t exist. And you knew better than to push. He’d told you so much about his horrifying past and subsequent struggle with his mental health, but he never dared speak about the nightmares. If Bucky needed more time before he could talk to someone about the demons that came calling each night, you’d wait. He deserved patience and kindness, and that’s what you vowed to give him- no matter how badly you ached to help him.

“Okay. Is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you?” To no one’s surprise, Bucky didn’t take you up on your offer- he never did. But you always extended it to him anyway, never wanting him to forget that he could come to you with anything and everything. Accepting help didn’t come easy to him, but if he ever grew comfortable enough to ask for it, you’d be there. 

“Okay. You know where to find me…” you took hold of his clammy hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “goodnight, Buck”. Bucky watched you slowly make your way back to your room, kicking himself all the while. He hated waking you, hated that you felt like you had to check on him every night. The kind gesture meant more to him than you’d ever know, but still made him feel like a burden. He wished he could be honest with you- with himself. He wanted nothing more than to ask you to stay with him for a while, to make him feel safe, but he wouldn’t dare.

Back in your room, you worried about Bucky- like you always did. The two of you loved spending time together, so much so that you were often the butt of the team’s jokes- but no amount of stupid comments could separate you from one another. You were always there for him, just as he was for you. He was the kind, warm, safe person you’d always believed to only exist in movies, and you’d spend every moment with him if he’d let you- but he wouldn’t. He never approved of sleepovers. Part of you thought it was his old-fashioned 40’s thinking keeping him from staying the night, but you quickly learned otherwise. 

He didn’t want you around to witness what happened to him in his sleep. The screaming was embarrassing enough; no part of him wanted you to actually have a front row seat for the rest of the experience. It was a rule he put in place to save himself the humiliation and you the horror of what he went through on a nightly basis.

Every evening he’d join you in your room or you’d visit his, the two of you relaxing on the floor on top of a pallet of blankets and pillows. It was a cozy, comfortable way for the two of you to watch movies or talk about life without actually sharing a bed. No matter how badly you wanted Bucky to climb under your covers and make your sheets smell like him, he never accepted your invitation. He knew just how easy it would be for the two of you to fall asleep that way, and he wouldn’t allow it. 

Every time he found himself getting sleepy while in your room, he excused himself- even if that meant dragging his barely conscious body from the floor to his bedroom at 3am. But when the two of you spent time in his room, it was different. He could never bring himself to actually say the words and kick you out, so you’d wait for him to get tired. And when he let loose his first yawn of the night, you’d excuse yourself, citing your own made-up exhaustion.

As you collapsed back into bed and tried to get comfortable, you heard Bucky moving around his room. It was the same series of sounds each night: Bucky walking around for a few minutes, clearly doing some sort of task, before his door opened and shut. His footsteps would echo down the hall as he walked past your room, only to disappear for a few minutes and subsequently re-emerge. His door would close, and the lock would click into place, punctuating his mysterious routine. Knowing that Bucky was safely back in his room, you finally let yourself fall asleep, knowing to expect a repeat the very next night.

Things were different when Bucky was away on a mission. Without him, the floor you shared was quiet- and you almost found yourself missing the sound of his screams. The nightmares never took a pause or gave Bucky a break, not even when he desperately needed the rest, and you knew he was halfway across the world somewhere, screaming himself awake. When he was at the compound, you could check in on him, offer him your help- but he didn’t have that luxury when on a mission. You imagined him holed up somewhere dingy and dark, forcing himself to stay awake to avoid the horrors that lie dormant in his subconscious- but it never worked. He’d inevitably fall asleep, throwing himself into yet another heinous nightmare. 

And when Bucky returned from his most recent mission, you saw the evidence of his exhaustion written all over his face. His crystalline blue eyes were red and bloodshot, underlined by deep purple circles. “Hey, sweetheart”, he wrapped you in a hug and held you close, taking a deep inhale. The relief that flooded his body upon his each and every return to you was unlike anything he’d ever felt. “Hey, Buck. How you feelin’?” your voice muffled against the fabric of Bucky’s shirt as he refused to let go of you just yet- but you didn’t mind. 

When his tired eyes finally found yours once again, his lips pulled into an automatic smile. “I’m fine. Made it back in one piece-” You narrowed your eyes at him until he conceded that, yes, he was sore and utterly exhausted. “Then go take a hot shower, Sarge. I’m gonna grab you something to eat and we’ll meet in your room”, you gave him a gentle shove in the direction of his bedroom, “that’s an order”. 

When he finally washed the dried blood from his skin and devoured six of your famous grilled cheeses, he had to fight to stay awake. “Just go to sleep, Buck. We can talk tomorrow, okay?” your fingers traced lazily through his hair, twisting the short, wet strands into little spikes. Bucky knew what you were doing. He’d let it slip a few months back that he loved when you played with his hair, and it became painfully obviously that the feeling could put him right to sleep. Ever since then, you’d used it against him countless times. 

“Heyyyy- not cool. Don’t- don’t do that…” Bucky almost slurred, the sleep already evident in his voice. “I haven’t seen you in…in a long time. Wanna, uh…Wanna stay awake and talk to you…missed you” His efforts to evade rest just for you melted your heart completely, but he needed his sleep. “I missed you too, Buck. But I’ll still be here in the morning. We can talk then, I promise”. When Bucky no longer had the energy to argue, he agreed to your terms. He allowed you to help him from the floor and into his bed, his body too exhausted move on its own. “I’ll see you tomorrow…glad you’re home”, you pulled the sheet over him and topped it with his bed spread before sneaking out of the room, wishing you could stay.

Like clockwork, Bucky’s screams pierced through the still night. Your body responded automatically, leaping out of bed and running in his direction before you were even fully awake. “Buck?” you called gently as you knocked on his door, “you okay?” He pulled open the door and smiled weakly at you, his skin shiny with sweat. He barely had enough energy to stand upright, let alone manufacture a ‘just fine’ façade- but he tried he damnedest. “Hey…yeah, I’m- I’m fine. Thanks…” his shaky hand reached for yours, betraying just how not okay he really was. He gripped your hand for dear life, his pulse still pounding beneath his clammy skin.

“If you’re not okay, you can tell me. You know that right?” You locked eyes with him, driving home your point, “I’m always here for you. We can talk- or we can just sit in the quiet if that’s what you need. I can play with your hair…” The offer brought an instant smile to Bucky’s face, and the thought of you staying with him immediately granted him comfort- but he just couldn’t accept. “That’s okay, doll. Really. I appreciate it, but I just…” His shiny, vibranium hand raked through his sweat-dampened hair, “I’m okay”. 

After a long squeeze of his hand, you departed his doorway. And as you sunk back into your empty bed, you wondered if Bucky was ever going to admit that he needed you. The sounds of him milling about his bedroom echoed down the hall like always, but a new sound caught you by surprise. “Shit”. The sharp whisper came from Bucky’s weary voice, and you found alarm rising in your chest. His bedroom door opened and then closed with a thud, followed by his heavy footsteps heading in your direction- and then he stopped. 

His metallic hand clinked against your bedroom door, and the very thought of Bucky actually asking for comfort practically forced you out of bed. “Buck!” you threw open the door, the gust of air blowing your hair in every direction. Regardless of his exhaustion, Bucky couldn’t help but smile as you struggled to tame your wild strands. “Hey, can I- can I ask you a favor?” He gave a small smile at your almost automatic “duh”, but the smile quickly faded. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to ask for such a seemingly strange courtesy. “So, I forgot to do laundry before I left for my mission…”

“Um, okay. Well, I don’t think you’re gonna fit into my clothes, Buck, but you could try”. Your dumb joke eased Bucky’s anxiety a bit, but he still avoided making eye contact. “We have the same size bed, right? I was just wondering if I could, uh, borrow a set of sheets?” The request struck you in a strange way. You knew for a fact that there were sheets on Bucky’s bed when you left, seeing as you’d tucked him in before slipping out the door. “Oh, um, yeah. Sure thing- one sec…” You grabbed a set of sheets and pillowcases from the linen closet and plopped them into Bucky’s arms, “you can borrow anything of mine- I was serious about the clothes”. The wink that punctuated your joke sent a flood of warmth to Bucky’s cheeks. 

“I’ll have these back to you by tomorrow-” he tried to promise, but you wouldn’t hear of it. “Buck, it’s no rush. They’re just sheets- sleep on ‘em for a few nights, I don’t care. Just get some rest, okay?” He managed to drag his eyes up from the floor for a brief moment before thanking you for the sheets and returning to his bedroom.

You fell asleep that night worrying about Bucky. Nighttime was always challenging for him and something was clearly wrong, but he simply wouldn’t open up. Asking for help in the form of a spare set of sheets was a monumental feat for him, as he preferred to spend the late-night hours suffering in silence. You had half a mind to march down to his door and knock until he agreed to bare his soul to you, but prying was never the answer with him. You’d learned almost immediately that he locked his innermost thoughts inside a vault, only opening it when the time was right. 

The next morning, a light knock woke you just as the sun began to peak through your window. “Wandaaaaaa,” you groaned into your pillow, “I don’t wanna do sunrise yoga”. But you nearly jumped out of bed when you heard Bucky’s voice outside your door. “Hey- can we talk?” he cleared his throat, “actually, it’s way too early, sorry. We can do this later-” But before he could walk away, your bedroom door flew open. Bucky stood before you with the sheets you’d loaned him in hand, resting in a perfectly clean and folded stack. His outstretched arms offered them to you as he muttered a quiet “thank you”, clearly regretful that he’d woken you so early. 

“Come in, Buck. Let’s talk- it’s never a bad time,” you welcomed him into your room and placed the stack of sheets on your dresser, choosing to put them away after Bucky said what he needed to say. The two of you plopped down on the floor like you’d done hundreds of times before, but the causal nature that usually rested between you was nowhere to be found. Bucky was nervous and clearly embarrassed, his cheeks prematurely taking on a pink hue. “Hey, come on, it's just me”, you took his metal hand in yours, “you can tell me anything”. 

Another long, quiet moment passed before Bucky opened the floodgates, allowing the truth to spill freely. “It’s the nightmares...” he finally said, “I know you know that I wake up screaming every night without fail. But I’m also always covered in a cold sweat. I’m serious, it’s- it’s gross. And so after you come check on me each night, I have to change my sheets. I have to strip my bed and take the sheets to the laundry, and then I go back to my room and put a new set on before I go back to sleep. But like I said last night, I forgot to do laundry before I left…so after my nightmare last night, I didn’t have any clean sheets. That’s why I needed to borrow some from you”.

With all of his defenses down, Bucky waited anxiously for your reaction. He felt utterly exposed, so vulnerable and open, as he granted you a peak inside the tumultuous events of his each and every night. But you didn’t answer. The silence made Bucky uncomfortable as the two of you sat there staring at each other. He couldn’t take the way the quiet rang in his ears, forcing him to continue speaking. “I’ve told you everything else, but all the stuff about the nightmares is just…it’s a whole other beast, you know? Telling you about the things Hydra did to me and what they made me do, that’s different. The dreams are…I can’t tell you about the dreams”. 

“Why, Buck?” You claimed his free hand, holding both with the utmost care. Bucky’s eyes fell down to his hands and watched the way you traced the lines on his palms, both warm and cold. Part of him didn’t want to open up any more than he already had, but you were his favorite person, his closest confidante, the one he could go to with anything and everything. With a deep breath, he continued.

“They’re just- they replay all of the very worst things I did- the darkest, the most evil acts that I committed during my time as the Winter Soldier... the things I've never told you about. I don’t want you knowing about that stuff- I care what you think about me. I care how you see me. Your opinion matters the most to me- out of anyone. You’re so good. And if you know about the things I did- the things that haunt me at night- you won’t see me the same way.”

“Hey- yes, I will”, your hands abandoned his and took his face instead, forcing him to look you in the eye. “Nothing you could tell me would ever change what I think of you or how I feel about you- none of that stuff was your fault. You had no control-”

“It doesn’t matter. I still did it,” he shrugged. His shoulders slumped forward, and he stared down at the floor, but the words wouldn’t stop flowing. He’d opened the floodgates and set everything free, no matter how badly he wished he could just shut up. 

“And it’s embarrassing. I’m a fully grown- over grown- adult, I shouldn’t let bad dreams affect me like this. The screaming and the sweating and- I wake up shaking with tears in my eyes- it’s pathetic. I don’t want this to be who I am…” 

After another long moment of silence, you finally spoke up, “I have them, too.” Bucky’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, an air of disbelief coloring his expression. “Buck, I have nightmares, too. About missions, about the things I’ve seen…the things I’ve done”. You dug the nail of your thumb into one of your cuticles, the nervous habit of yours Bucky had come to recognize.  His cold hand curled around yours, preventing you from picking yourself apart. He couldn’t believe he’d been so oblivious, so unaware of the fact that you were suffering the entire time he’d known you. Overwhelming guilt washed over him as he realized that he’d never even asked, but a small sliver of him was just happy to not be the odd man out. 

“I mean, obviously mine aren’t about the same things, but I have them. Nightmares about things I did- or didn’t do. They haunt me. We all have them- all of us. We've all seen some shit. Tony started having them after New York- he even called his suit in his sleep once and it attacked Pepper. Nat has them about the red room. Sam dreams about what happened to Riley. And Wanda sees Pietro dying in Sokovia. You’re not the only one, Buck. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Bucky stared at you in awe. He’d never felt so seen or understood- so accepted- by anyone. His warm hand reached out and cupped your cheek, letting his thumb ghost over your cheekbone. He wasn’t sure what to say- wasn’t sure if he could even speak. “But um... Wanda said that talking to someone about it can really help. Every time she wakes up from a nightmare, she tells Vision everything she saw- hasn’t had a nightmare in months”. You paused, wondering if you should even suggest the idea that had been lurking in the back of your mind for the last few weeks.

“Maybe we should trade? It could help both of us. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” The air in your lungs remained trapped as you waited for Bucky’s answer. The large majority of him wanted to keep those deep, dark secrets from his Hydra days safely locked inside his mind for fear of scaring you. He truly believed you when you said you’d never see him differently, but he was nervous all the same.

He gave you a sheepish nod and motioned for you to begin- but just as you opened your mouth to tell him about the twisted dream you’d had just a few hours ago, he stopped you. “Is this- are you sure? You can tell me everything, I want you to tell me. But you don’t have to hear mine…”

His anxiety made itself apparent in the way his metal fingers clinked against his dog tags. “Hey- it’s okay. I want to hear yours. I want to help you. You don’t have to worry, okay? We’ll just trade back and forth until you want to stop. Would it make you feel a little better if I go first?” You gently pulled Bucky’s hand from his tags and encircled it with yours, ceasing his anxious habit. He nodded again, admitting that he didn’t want to start things off.

“Okay, then I’ll go first. All you have to do is listen.”

——————

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[url-is-under-construction]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐀 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 | 𝐇.𝐋 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬:

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: You worried too much. That was what he always told you when you brought up a nasty feeling in the pit of your stomach. Sometimes you were right though, and that’s proven when the two of you run into him during your drifting session.

𝐀/𝐍: I’m literally in love with this gif. In-fucken-love. Also, sorry this request took me yonks, I’m back on my bullshit where I literally forget that writing is a thing that I do and love? So yeah, it ain’t much but it’s honest work.

Cars had never been something of interest to you.

Obviously when you saw a decent car you could stop to appreciate it, but other than that you never noticed the hype about them. Your family hadn’t brought you up with cars, none of your friends had ever been into them, and the one girl you hated throughout high school who thought she was ‘not like the other girls’ had never shut up about them.

So yeah, they never caught your interest.

It wasn’t until you had a gap year in Japan, traveling the world and meeting new people, that you finally started to notice them, admire them, and grow a passion for them after the first proper job you could find in Tokyo was working in some bar by a garage.

Listening to them, looking at them, seeing the adoration in their owners faces every time they looked at their cars, whether it was a Supra or a Civic.

That was how you met him.

Han was mysterious at first and never really opened up to you, but the more drunk nights he spent sitting in front of you while you slid him bottles of corona across the rustic bar top the more he opened up to you.

The two of you bonded and grew closer, gradually transitioning from just talking at the bar to actually going out together and spending time with one another, not that the two of you would ever admit they were dates.

You learnt all about his past, his family, despite him telling you how afraid he was you would leave him for it. But you proved him wrong, and now some two years later the two of you were still together.

“You comin’?” He called out as he carefully shut the door of the s15. ‘Mona Lisa’ as Twinkie liked to call it.

“I dunno, I just...” You trailed off as you got in beside him, also careful to shut the door knowing you would never hear the end of it if you slammed it. “I have a bad feeling about tonight.”

Han’s eyes widened and he turned in his seat to face you.

“Baby we do this like every week.” He reassured you, his voice soft. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah I know but like, it’s just this feeling in my stomach.” You tried to explain.

“Y/n, you’ve had a stressful month with work and everything. You’ve been worrying about everything, and this is a time for you to just let go and relax.” He placed his hand on your knee. “We’re gonna be fine. Promise.”

You swallowed and nodded, pushing down your anxiety.

Han was right, it had been a crazy stressful month for you with your job, you had been busting your ass off for a promotion, and when you finally got it you realized just how many new responsibilities you had.

Sitting passenger with Han while the two of you went drifting up some mountain or along some abandoned road somewhere was one of your favorite things to do, and of course it would relax you rather than worry you even more.

“You’re right.” You smiled, placing your hand over his. “Let’s go.”

As much as you had convinced yourself that the two of you would be fine, throughout the drive you couldn’t help but feel the anxiety creep back into the pits of your stomach.

A grin made it’s way onto your face as the two of you find a familiar road a good half hour or so from the city.

You close your eyes as Han drives, drifting perfectly, loving the feeling and just leaving your worries behind. You were also exhausted, and it was only just now hitting you as your coffee was wearing off.

You had almost thought you were about to fall asleep when Han slammed the breaks, jolting you awake.

“What the-” You began to ask but he cut you off.

“Stay in the car.”

You watched, mouth agape as he left you alone in the Silvia, walking in front of the car to a parked 350Z on the other side of the road, and your eyes widened at the familiar face who was also getting out of the car.

DK.

You watched, your heart beating faster and faster until it was almost going through your chest as the two men argued, occasionally giving the other a shove to the chest.

You watched as Han said something to DK, clearly pissing him off and turning around to walk back to you.

Your breath stopped as you watched DK pull something out of his waistband, pointing it at Han.

Panicked, you opened the car door and stormed out, ignoring the bite of the icy air as you stared down the man in front of you.

“Put the fucking gun down before I call the cops.” You said harshly, your voice cold and calm despite your erratic heart beat and breathing.

He scoffed at you, glancing up and down at your figure with an impressed grin on his face, licking his lips much to Han’s dismay.

“I control the cops princess. But nice try.”

“No, that’s your uncle DK.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “And last time I checked, your last meeting with him didn’t go too great.”

His face fell at that.

“So put the fucking gun down or you’re going to have a huge damn problem.”

Begrudgingly, he stuck it into his pocket, placing his hands up in mock surrender as you turned and walked back to the car, Han following silently with one last dirty look at him.

“Hey!” DK called out to the two of you as you were about to slide into the passenger seat. “Next time your girlfriend won’t be around to help!”

“Just get in the car.” You whispered to Han, answering DK with a loud door slam even though it killed you.

Han followed suit, the two of you sitting in silence until DK’s car had long disappeared.

“Don’t say it.” He said as you opened your mouth to speak.

“I told you so.”