#i want this fucking mug so bad but its so cool like if the owner likes it i wouldnt want to take it because like

[rapidhighway]

guys.... do you think if a cool mug has been lying in the dorm kitchen untouched for like over two weeks now... do you think it is fine if i take it.....

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Leggiero (Chapter Three)

aIn collaboration with @bethanysnow

Small touches, looks, and wine-soaked daydreams lead to whispered conversations on balconies' edge. Put out cigarettes in the middle of the night. Let lips touch as palms do - eventually...

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word count | 7111

Tag list | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitermoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you@vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @dacey0eg @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @bidet-and-legolas @ginny-lily

***

The bus rumbled underneath Damiano as he turned around in his bunk, the humming of the vehicle drowning out the clatter and chatter of his bandmates in the background. His head was pounding, but less because of the little alcohol he had consumed the night before and more because of the thoughts that had kept him up all night. This morning, he had made sure to be up before Y/n would come around for her wake up call, got ready and then all but crawled into the bunk on his bus for more sleep. They would play a gig in the evening, but for now he was thankful for the 6-hour drive to Oslo with nothing to do.

He could almost feel himself drifting off, body tired out and mind exhausted, but instead all that he saw when he closed his eyes were scenes from last night.

The room was filled with laughter. Music and Vic’s singing, as Damiano let himself fall onto the bed next to Y/n. She looked gorgeous, hair down, relaxing, a champagne flute in her hand and a slight smile on her face. Even though he knew she’d be worrying about what Thomas was doing to the room and how she was going to get them out of bed the next morning. But mostly she was just gorgeous and he told her so.

His hand reached out before the contemplation of this action had been finished in his brain. The adrenaline from the first show of the tour had him flying, soaring, and there was nothing that could possibly bring him down. Her eyes showed surprise but she didn’t pull away as he put a strand of her hand behind her ear. The gesture was small but Damiano felt like he was on fire, briefly stroking the soft skin under his fingers before pulling back.

He found himself babbling about his hair, but he was much more interested in what she had to say. He wished she would talk about herself more often - so much of his personality was so out there, so much information about himself was literally out there, in magazines and interviews and photos, but she had her walls up, even when they were joking, even when she seemed to be talking freely.

“You’re getting more interesting with every second I’m around you, you know?” The words slipped out of his mouth so easily. She went over it just as easily. Did she not care? Did she not find him interesting? He had hoped for some sort of reply or reaction, but she just continued talking. Maybe she wasn’t interested in him… His brain only allowed the thought for a minute. No, he told himself, she simply was this way. Cool, calm, collected. He was sure he would be able to get her out of her shell further one of these days. He wasn’t going to stop trying.

Next thing he knew, she had thrust her phone into his hand, some picture of her from years ago. He didn’t care much about the outfit or the makeup or the questionable hair, it was her smile that drew him in. There was something carefree about it, something unabashedly confident, something she seemed to have lost since then. There was no way back for him he realised in that moment - it might as well have been this woman or no other ever again.

Next thing he knew, he was complimenting her again, calling her darling, but this time he didn’t have to wait long for a reaction. The drink that had been in her mouth just a second ago was now spluttered on her clothes and some of the bedding. He was about to ask her if she was alright, but she had jumped up from the bed, hands trying to hide her reddening face, and dashed to the bathroom.

Fuck, what happened?

“Damiano! What did you do to the poor girl!” Vic shouted in amusement from across the room. He simply waved it off. He wasn’t actually sure what he had done and it bothered him more than he would like to admit - especially in front of his bandmates. Maybe he had come on too strong, tried too hard, had made it awkward. His plan had been to pay her compliments - not scare her away with them. He would have to reconsider his course of action.

When she came back, it was only to say a quick goodnight, waving and leaving. She only spared him a brief glance, no smile or any reassurance that they were fine.

It had not stopped going through his mind. This morning, she had pretended like nothing had happened, but he knew she had been avoiding his gaze and her smiles didn’t seem quite as genuine as they did before. Damiano let out a low groan into his pillow. This was a mess and a half.

The curtain of his bunk was drawn back harshly, revealing Ethan’s face.

“Why would you scare me like that!” Damiano complained. “I could be jacking off in here!”

“Well, I want to assume you wouldn’t do that in a semi-public space such as this,” Ethan replied with contemplation on his face.

“What do you want anyway?”

“Victoria sent me and told me to tell you, I quote,” Ethan cleared his throat. “‘Stop moping, Damiano, it’s no fun'. So, there you go.”

Without another word, Ethan turned back around, leaving the curtain open, and walked back into the kitchenette of the bus. Out of the corner of his eye, Damiano could see him stealing a bit of fruit from the fruit bowl. He felt no motivation to join them.

***

“He alright?” Y/n whispered to Thomas, who was sitting close to her, guitar on his lap. He just shrugged. Ethan rejoined the group with an unreadable expression on his face, sitting down next to Victoria. Y/n shot him another concerned look, but he simply shrugged as well. She shook her head and got up from her spot, walking over to the counter to make breakfast for everyone. Getting out the waffle maker. Putting the Moka pot on the stove and filling it with water. Too early in the morning for rock and roll. In the background, she could hear the band discussing rehearsals and the show in Oslo.

As soon as the smell of food hit the three bandmates, they were all over Y/n, hovering around the little kitchenette, pushing and shoving each other to be first. Y/n looked at all of them in turn. Thomas was currently standing on the couch, raising his hand to smack an unsuspecting Vic who was looking the other way. A single raised brow from Y/n got him back down onto the ground.

“Hey! I’m older, I go first!” Victoria pushed Thomas back.

“Maybe, but it still took your mum nine months to think of a good joke,” Thomas retorted.

Ethan turned around, chuckling at his friends’ banter - but Y/n’s reaction was far more blatant. She started to laugh, a loud, almost cackle that the band had never heard before. Her smile easily reached her eyes and she gave a little applause at Thomas’ joke. “I- I;” she gasped in between laughs, “I know it’s not that funny but it just got me, sorry!” Finally managing to bite her tongue, she went back to serving breakfast.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n saw Damiano leaning so far out of his bunk to find out where the sounds and the laughter were coming from. The driver though couldn’t have known it was a bad moment to go over a pothole. With a loud thud, Damiano crashed out from his bunk and onto the hard floor. Chili, excited at the prospect of being able to reach him, ran over to lick his face.

“Eh! Chili, hi. Vic! Come get your dog!” He groaned, picking up the golden fluff and sending it back to her owner. She trotted away happily, over towards Victoria, who was a giggling mess after seeing her friend’s fall. He rolled his eyes at her grin.

“You gonna come join us, sleepy boy? I made coffee,” Y/n said, still trying to keep the peace between everyone. Pouring coffee into a mug, she walked over to Damiano and bent down, handing him the beverage. “I don’t really care if you want to spend the entire day on the floor, but I think your fans might tonight. So come join the party, hm?” Her voice was soft and enticing. Damiano’s eyes sparkled at her invitation. But still, his face was burning red. He sighed and nodded.

Y/n stepped back, taking the cup after he had taken a long sip, and reached her hand out to him. With a swift movement, Damiano was back up on his feet, immediately losing his balance and crashing into Y/n’s shoulder. More blushing on his part. He had not been expecting this amount of strength from her. Not caring about his little bump into her, she dusted him off, picking some fuzz out of his hair, her hand so close to his face, yet so far. She handed him the coffee once again and gave him a smile, before going back to her little corner on the bus as everyone devoured their breakfast.

Damiano watched as she tidied up after everyone had finished, constantly making sure what was effectively their home during tour would stay homely. She always looked like she belonged, and he admired her for that. After one last wipe down of the counter, she quickly addressed everyone on the bus, asking if she was needed for anything else right now, and after a round of head-shaking from everyone, she grabbed her laptop and retired to a quiet corner on the bus. It was only when she briefly looked up to find his eyes and gave a slight smile that he realised he was still watching her every move. Embarrassing, he scolded himself.

Damiano started fumbling for his bag, grabbing a notebook and a pen. He had too many thoughts running around in his head, too many images and ideas about Y/n, and he felt like the only way to get rid of them was to write. Maybe he’d even be able to make something out of it. Anything would be better than staring and dreaming about her anyway.

***

Two more hours until Oslo. With a heavy sigh, Y/n pushed the laptop away from her, neck cracking as she finally moved her bones a little. Suddenly, a pair of hands came down onto her shoulders. She only flinched for a moment before she realised it was Damiano, slowly starting to massage her tense flesh. Her head fell forward and she waved her hand to have him keep going. His fingertips digging into hours of uni work, work work, other work. Tension all living in her neck being slowly worked away by the singer.

"I'm not gonna turn down a free massage," she chuckled, feeling his talented fingers remove knot after knot. Then, suddenly, they became softer. She could hear Thomas in the background shouting something at Damiano. Taking his attention away from her, and all it left was soft fingertips on the sensitive skin on her neck. Dancing along and leaving goosebumps in their wake without him even knowing what he was doing to her. She shivered under such a light touch. A groan left her lips as she was falling deeper under his spell. At this point, she didn’t care. A very pretty man was smoothing his hands over her neck and shoulders and it was nothing short of lovely. Normally this wouldn’t be on Y/n's top list of things she would allow - but a 6-hour bus ride and sitting in one place for most of it was a killer.

I could fall asleep like this - fuck…

She was snapped back to reality when she realised that Damiano was once again staring at her screen, asking what she was working on, hands never moving from their position. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to concentrate like this.

“Oh, I’ve, um,” she awkwardly fumbled with the laptop, “I’ve been trying to memorise this sonnet. I’m doing a course on Shakespeare this semester and we’ve been told to pick our favourite by him and I think I finally decided on mine. It’s Sonnet 128 - um. One of the only sonnets to give you an actual scene in place. It’s from the perspective of this guy watching a bard and just craving to be touched, used, kissed by this person. To have the same sort of attentive mastery be directed at him instead of the player’s instrument. Describing the person listening to this bard play… Wait, would you just like me to read it to you?” Y/n looked up at Damiano. He nodded as he slid into the seat beside her. She moved the laptop so she could see its screen still and began to speak.

***

Sitting next to her wasn’t as bad as Damiano thought. After working on her neck and shoulders, her perfume had rubbed off onto his skin. Light and warm, not super floral, but he didn’t peg Y/n to be a flower kind of woman anyway. Looking at her face now, he noticed things he hadn’t seen before. Faint freckles, little lines around her eyes, the pink tint on her lips. Her hair was done up again in a bun. He could see a couple of bobby pins trying to hide in her wild hair. Then she started to recite the piece and his chest was exploding. He felt as if he was watching winter melt away and spring come.

“How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st”

Oh, what he would do to be her muse, Damiano thought. Her voice, low and soft, was like music itself to him, never mind the way her eyes lit up at the words she repeated from the screen. A little light inside of her, one he hadn’t encountered before.

“Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway’st”

Her fingers were just as sweet, his mind piped up as he tried to listen to her more closely. Some light polish on her nails that he hadn’t noticed before, but now that she was scrolling through the laptop, it was like he couldn’t keep his eyes off them. Quickly exploring images of them tangled in his hair, scratching down his back ever so slightly. Stop, he told in his own head in vain. Just stop and listen, for once. Yet the ideas of her he had hidden away kept demanding attention.

“The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,

Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap

To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,”

He tried so hard to concentrate. To listen, to take in the words she was reciting, to grasp their meaning and what they meant to her, but it was hard, getting harder. In an uncalculated move on his part, his arm swung around her shoulders, not pulling her closer, just letting her know he was there, right now, right here, with her. His hand resting on her upper arms, feeling the warmth underneath the fabric of her blouse.

“Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,

At the wood’s boldness by thee blushing stand!”

His eyes travelled up from her fingers, over her soft and curvy figure, her delicate neck, to her blushing face. She was blushing an awful lot with him and he had not yet figured out completely if this was a good sign or not. Either way, he thought she looked adorable, a natural pink on her cheeks. Slightly restless eye movements that didn’t match up to the words she was reading, a certain nervousness overtaking her. He wanted to make her blush like that for the rest of his life if he could. He silently wondered if she would blush that much if… if it was just the two of them, alone in some random hotel room, a whole world of exploration before them.

“To be so tickled, they would change their state

And situation with those dancing chips,

O’er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,

Making dead wood more blest than living lips.”

His eyes betrayed him, flicking down to her lips as soon as she said the word. Soft, a light tint on them, pronouncing every syllable in the most mindful way. He wondered if she would let him kiss her. What. His brain flickered between two emotions. Yes, yes, yes. He would give everything to feel her sweet mouth on his, getting her close, inhaling her scent, pouring his every thought into a kiss. No. What was he thinking? She was their assistant. Strong, gorgeous, fiercely independent, and surely not interested. Right? He couldn’t help wondering. Would she let him kiss her? Would she want him to? Had she thought about it, the way he was right now?

“Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,

Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.”

Their eyes met and Damiano hadn’t even noticed how much closer he had edged towards her. It would only take a little bit, one more breather, a tiny motion, to put his lips on her, to feel what she was feeling, and the way she looked at him had him craving, obsessing and he almost dared himself to do it, when a voice pulled him out of his thoughts, pulled him away from her.

“Y/N! I don’t understand how the waffle maker works!”

Damiano had never wanted to kill his bandmate more than at that moment. With a groan he turned around, seeing Thomas fumble with the appliances in their little kitchen area, a dumbstruck look on his face, and puppy dog eyes pleading Y/n for help. She only gave a low chuckle, before getting up and walking over to the guitarist, leaving Damiano with a head full of thoughts that all circled around her.

***

That was close, Jesus Christ! My face is so warm… how are his eyes that pretty? How have I never noticed that before? I wonder if he was thinking about the same thing as I was back there…

***

The crowd was roaring out by the main stage. Crew held their places waiting for the queue to go. The band stood off stage trying to sneak a peek at the audience. Hundreds more people than they were expecting. Y/n sat in a metal chair that was dubbed ‘her chair’ so she could watch the performance from behind the main curtain to cheer the band on without being seen. The lights in the main room were being lowered, the playlist that had been on in the background slowly being turned off, as the noise of the audience got impossibly louder. The band was getting nervous now, the good kind of nervous. Thomas jumping around to get his energy levels up before they would get the sign to get on stage. Y/n smiled at them in turn, returning a little wave Ethan was giving her. Just as they were given the go-ahead, and all of them started to jog on stage, Damiano took a little detour, sending her a smile that would set all the butterflies free in her stomach, before pressing a little kiss to her forehead. He was gone before she had a chance to react. Yet, she froze. Damiano looked back and it was the most perplexed, confused, and adorable expression he had ever seen on her.

It was an expression Damiano couldn’t get out of his head for the rest of the concert, even long after she had lost it - and he knew she had because he couldn’t keep himself from looking over at her every now and again. He was fascinated by the way she watched them.

And if she was watching? Well, then he was going to put on a show.

He pulled all the tricks he knew - well those that were fitted to the situation and venue. During one of their songs, he decided to pull his favourite one. With a low grunt, he ripped his shirt apart, throwing it across the stage, unable to wipe the smile off his face. Until he looked over to where his top had landed and his eyes fell onto Y/n, standing beside the stage, now with a performance-rich torn tank top on her face. Maybe his aim had been a little off. The look on her face as she removed the fabric made him laugh. At least she isn’t hiding now, he thought, before going back to the song.

During “You need me, I don’t need you”, one of the covers they had chosen for the night, he couldn’t fight the grin, knowing his favourite lyric of the night was coming up.

“Melody music maker, reading all the papers, they say I’m up and coming like I’m fucking in an elevator.”

Where Damiano would usually take the chance to suggestively hump the mic stand and focus on the audience, this time he did it while looking straight at Y/n. Her face clouded red, eyes looking at him with a flustered glare. He simply winked at her.

Similar things kept happening throughout the night, any song to do with sex or romance, any innuendo, it was all directed at her. To him, it was all about her all the time, and he made sure to let her know.

***

After one last encore, the band left the stage, the sound of the crowd chanting their names in the background. Once backstage, they all exchanged hugs, all pumped up from the adrenaline and the successful show. A massive gift basket sat in the corner, filled with beers, chocolates, some skincare products, and flowers, along with a note from the venue welcoming them to Oslo and thanking them for playing. Vic immediately grabbed Y/n.

“When we get back to the hotel - up for a girl’s night?” Wriggling her eyebrows at the assistant, she picked out some of the products from the red tulle in the basket.

“As if I could say no to you.”

***

“Okay, what’s first, face mask or red wine?” Victoria asked, holding up both items in her hands as she followed Y/n into the hotel room, Chili yapping at both of their feet, dying to get attention from anyone.

“I will pour the wine if you open the face mask stuff,” Y/n decided, picking up Chili for some snuggles, before putting the dog down on the bed and grabbing the wine glasses. “Don’t have a girls' night often, so this is nice.”

“I keep having them with the boys but it’s not really the same,” Vic laughed. “They never want me to pluck their eyebrows or anything! Oh, and please be careful with the wine around Chili, I drenched her once and it didn’t come out of her fur for ages.”

“You - you did what now? Wait, nope, I don’t wanna know. But to be honest, I would kill to get Ethan on my lap with some tweezers in my hand. Boy, does he need it. Not by much, sweet guy. Just, uh, you know?” Within a moment or two wine was being poured and handed to the blonde. “I didn’t know how much you would want but we can always add more,” Y/n stated, hopping onto the bed next to Vic.

“Oh, very sweet guy with unpredictable hair, really!” Vic said, grabbing the glass and downing more than half of it in one go already, before sitting down next to Y/n with the little pot she had opened and a little applicator for the cream. “That’s so fancy, I usually just slap it on my face with my fingers.”

“Same! Thinking we’re posh fucks, aren’t they?” Y/n grinned, looking at the tiny skincare items, another sip of wine. Chili curled up between the two women. “You looked like you had fun at the concert.”

“It’s so good to be back on the road and I feel like we’ve really found ourselves as a band now. We’ve only played two shows but it’s already my favourite tour. I’m convinced it’s because you’re here, too, by the way, you really fit in with us,” Victoria smiled at her, sipping from the glass, then putting it away on the nightstand and motioning for Y/n to do the same. “Come here, I’m gonna do your face.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say that. You guys have been absolutely killing it. You got here by your own accomplishments and will, that’s hard to do. I am far more surprised at how well I’ve been able to fit in with you all. I’m, uh, as you can see,” putting the glass away, she scooted to face Victoria, “not as… ‘rock and roll’ and I would have assumed you’d want your assistant to be. But glad I got stuck with you though.”

“Oh, shush,” Vic said, sternly, as she began applying the cream to Y/n’s face. “You fit in just fine. Firstly, I think we definitely need someone to keep us grounded a bit sometimes and secondly, I am absolutely convinced there’s a lot more rock and roll in you than you think - you just wait until you’ve been exposed to us for longer, you’ll see!”

“Well, I agree with the grounded part. You realise that today during breakfast Thomas was climbing on the sofa about to smack your head just to get further in line? That boy does not stop.” She relaxed into Vic’s touch, silently deciding that girls' nights needed to be a more regular thing. This was great. “Ethan said something similar - something about ‘head banging right along with everyone else’. You all have it out for me don’t you?!” She asked, putting on an overly dramatic, surprised look.

“No, he didn’t!” She exclaimed, astounded. “I’m gonna get him back for that tomorrow. Anyway, Ethan was right, you won’t be able to resist our bad influence forever, Y/n! So, have you been to gigs before taking this job, or is this still something new to you?”

“I have been to gigs before, but they were more music festivals, and I was never one for EDM or anything. The heat and lots of glittery, sweaty people drunk on warm beer? No, thank you. Or they would get a new assistant for a tour and the job would end. Not in a bad way, it's just how it is as an assistant. You do your job until they don’t need you anymore.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s the wine or you, but I don’t think I’ve talked this much about myself really since I started this job. Not this particular job, mind you, but the whole P.A. thing.” Y/n chuckled, pulling her hair back into a tighter ponytail to keep out of the way of the fancy skincare.

“Hm, now I just keep thinking of putting glitter on you and getting you in the middle of a good punk gig one of these days,” Vic giggled as she finished up Y/n’s facemask, motioning for her to return the favour. “Let’s make the most of this wine then, I’m going to pour you another glass and you tell me a bit more about yourself.”

Grabbing the little pot of face mask, Y/n gently held Vic’s face, slowly applying the cream. “I’m going to be an alcoholic by the end of the tour, aren’t I? Um, well, I had a boyfriend, he was a prick, we broke up. My best friend lives in London in our old flat. My favourite films are old Hollywood romances. ‘Singing in the rain’, stuff like that. I dunno really. I’m just Y/n. Though I was thinking we should find a way to line Damiano’s trousers so that if they - when they rip apart, you see the lining and not the man’s underwear. Not that I think he cares, actually.” She truly was unable to turn work off completely, even on a night off.

Victoria couldn’t contain the giggle, receiving a scolding look from Y/n, who almost put the cream in her hair by mistake. “Thinking about Damiano’s underwear a lot, huh? Can’t blame you, that man is as pretty as they come. You can be happy they’ve all not gotten to the point where they just hang out on the tour bus in just their boxer shorts, but believe me, that day will come sooner or later!”

“I have not!” She insisted as her face betrayed her, telling a completely different story. “That is unprofessional and objectifying. I hope it doesn’t happen at all. You saw my face before when you all decided to ‘put on a little show’ in the dressing room.” She took the glass from Vic to take a sip. “Anyway.” She started blending out the face mask with fingers, careful not to get it into Victoria’s hair. “Would there be anything you want to know? I am never good at talking about myself.”

Chili nuzzled into Victoria’s leg, getting more needy. “I don’t want to cross any boundaries here, but honestly - why do you work so hard? I’ve only known you for like three days but you never seem to relax, you’re always either busy working for us or working on your projects and when you have a minute to breathe you end up cleaning after us or just going above and beyond taking care of us. I’m not complaining,” she held her hands up, laughing. “It’s great, but it’s a lot, huh?”

“Um… I can’t lie. Not to you or the band. Lying isn’t good for you anyway. But.. I don’t know. Lots of stuff happened before I moved to Italy. Lots of not-so-good stuff. So, I had a lot of reserved pent-up energy, still do. So I had to find ways to put it into things. Now I put it into my work because it’s my new dream. I put it into the band because I care about you. I want to see this tour do well…” Y/n stopped for a moment, caught off guard by the question, looking back and forth between Victoria and her own reflection in the wine. “I want to prove to myself that I can achieve and be successful. I am also a giant workaholic, though, like it’s bad,” she giggled, as Chili now put a paw on Vic’s thigh, demanding attention.

“Well, if you gotta do that whole workaholic thing, I’m glad you’re doing it for us,” Vic smiled, placing a soft hand on Y/n’s arm. “Just make sure to make some time to let loose every now and again. I’m sure any of us would be happy to help you with that.” She turned on her phone to check the time. “I should probably get this mask off now, give me a second,” she explained before getting up and skipping to the bathroom sink.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Y/n said, also taking note of the time. “Doesn’t Chili need to go out now? There’s no grass on the balcony or I’d let her do her business here.” She stood up, placing the wine glasses on a little counter, trying to force the cork back into the bottle. “Thank you for tonight though, we should make it a thing.”

“Yeah, I’ll take her out for her evening walk now.” Victoria came back, hair slightly damp from where she had washed her face too hastily. “But let’s definitely do this again, next to Ethan you’re like the most calming person on this tour to hang out with.” She moved to give her a hug, only to realise Y/n still had the mask on, so instead, she opted for an awkward shoulder rub and a giggle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“You do realise it is my job to follow you around and see you tomorrow? Like, that is what I am paid to do. But hell, I’d still do it if it wasn’t my job,” she smiled, nudging Vic’s shoulder. “Now go get Chili out and then get some sleep yeah? Important things like sleep, food, water, everything you people seem to keep forgetting about!”

“Well, that’s what we have you for now, don’t we?” Victoria laughed, picking up a whining Chili and already halfway out the door. “But you get some sleep too! No working through the night, I am ordering you to bed - as your boss!”

“Of course!” Y/n laughed, shutting the door behind the bassist. After taking off her mask, she put the rest of Vic’s leftover wine into her glass and went out onto the balcony with her laptop. Pulling out all the bobby pins and the hair tie, she ran her fingers through her hair, brushing out the knots and letting it hang loose. The light from the sunset had long been gone by the time they had gotten to the hotel. Only street lights and the blue screen were illuminating the space of the balcony. The outdoor space was large enough for a table and chairs. The street down below was faintly noisy as people and cars passed by, but not enough to disturb her peace and quiet.

***

So much for an early night, Damiano thought, staring at the screen of his phone, as Ethan slept soundly in the next bed. With a sigh, he kicked the blanket off his legs, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, and sneaking out onto the balcony without waking his bandmate. Maybe a smoke would help. His eyes drifted from the rather unspectacular view out front to where he noticed movement to his right, only to see Y/n on her own balcony, right next to his.

Y/n was relaxing in her chair, glass of wine in her hands, mouthing the words to something on the computer in front of her. Entirely focused on whatever she was working on, she didn’t notice Damiano’s door opening and closing. She took a drink of her wine, leaving a dark red stain on her lips, then stood up to face the street. Laptop on her arm and looking outward, she mumbled the words on the screen to herself. He just about managed to make out what she was saying.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with brief- Wait, no. Grief. Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Who is already sick and pale with grief. Stupid tiny font is gonna be de death of me,” she mumbled, trying to zoom into the text.

Damiano watched her, a chuckle on his lips, both amused and amazed at seeing her play out the scene on her own. With a quick flick of his lighter, he turned to his cigarette, taking a drag, wide awake. The low light of the moon was illuminating her figure and her hazy movements and for a while he allowed himself to simply be fascinated by her. By the way she moved. Performing fully committed to the open air. Then she made a particularly dramatic, sweeping gesture in her monologue and he knew he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Hey there, Juliet.”

The surprise went through her like an electric shock, she was stumbling over nothing, almost dropping the laptop from her arms, as she turned around towards him so fast, he was sure her hair was going to give her whiplash.

“Ah fuck - Damiano?!” She gasped delicately into the night. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days!”

Hopefully, for very different reasons, he thought to himself.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly replied. “What are you doing? It’s almost 2 am.”

“You know I could very well ask you the same thing.” She looked at him accusingly. “If you didn’t have the day off tomorrow I’d be ordering you back to bed immediately.”

Damiano briefly considered a suggestive comment, but instead, let the cigarette between his lips keep him quiet. Y/n was putting her laptop away now, sinking back down into the lounge chair as he walked over to the edge of his own balcony, leaning over the railing to get a better look at her.

“You know I’ve not forgiven you for your antics at the concert tonight yet,” she suddenly stated, pulling him from his thoughts. The smirk flashed over his face naturally. He wondered if she was blushing again, but the little light the moon and her laptop screen gave off didn’t tell him anything. He was hoping she was.

“I promise I didn’t mean to hit your face with my top,” he laughed.

“But you obviously did mean everything else you did!” An accusing finger was pointed his way. “I did not appreciate that.”

For a second he flinched, wondering if he had gone too far, crossing a boundary. But then she looked back at him with a smile she was obviously trying to push away, unsuccessfully. Glass of wine in her hand, she sauntered over to him, while he put out his cigarette on the railing. She leant over her own railing, mirroring his movements. At a slow pace, like she knew he was watching, she sipped from her glass. His eyes falling to the way her neck was exposed as she threw her head back, tracing the soft skin with his glances until she set down the drink. There was a droplet of red wine on her lip and he wished their balconies were closer together, fantasising about reaching out and wiping it away, feeling just how soft she would be under his touch.

“Not that… I didn’t like it.” She paused. “Also not the first time I’ve been hit in the face with a shirt. So there’s that.” Y/n laughed.

“Now you’ve got me curious - who else would hit you with a shirt? Are you trying to tell me you’ve been to strip clubs?” Damiano laughed. Teasing her came easy to him.

“Dancers. With aim as terrible as yours, Mr. David. And I don’t know if you want the answer to the second question,” she smirked. When they were alone like this, she seemed more at ease. That, or it was the wine. He didn’t know.

“Dancers, huh? Think you could teach me a thing or two? Or, you know, were you just watching, lusting over sexy men?”

“Ah! I would do nothing of the sort. Most of the guys there weren’t into girls anyway. Wouldn’t do me much good… Damiano, I could teach a lot of things. You to dance? God help us all.” She made a dramatic cross across her body, laughter twinkling in her eyes.

“Now, Y/n, I’d let you teach me whatever you wanted,” he winked. “Preferably something… active, hm?” He could keep from laughing as he saw her unimpressed face, staring him down and shaking her head. He’d rile her up for the rest of his life if she gave him the chance.

“I once met this Italian guy, came to the studio. Thought he was God’s gift to dance. But you Italians all have that, bravado, confidence, whatever you wanna call it. Well, after learning the first intermediate step, he fell flat on his face and went back to beginner lessons. You gonna be like that?” Raising a brow at him, she leant further over the railing on her side.

Damiano puffed up his chest, comically, trying to make himself appear bigger in a useless attempt to impress her. “Now, you’ve obviously not met the right Italians yet, amore mio. Sounds to me like you need a real Italian to show you the way.”

Just like this morning, she burst out laughing, letting out cackles that filled the air with joy. “Sorry - not laughing at you. Just thought what you said was funny.” She looked down, and as dark as it was, he could see the same signs he had seen before. Shy expression, holding herself close to her body. The slight panic of not knowing what to say. “You’re real Italian, alright. You seem to always know what to say. Now is that an Italian thing or a Damiano thing?” She asked, sarcastically, to deflect the fact that her face was heating up.

Amore mio…that's what did it. He felt like he was unlocking a single puzzle piece at a time, slowly putting her together and making sense of her. He couldn’t wait to get the whole picture one of these days. “Maybe it’s a you thing,” he simply said. The night was making him strangely comfortable with being honest. “Maybe you just bring it out in me.”

“Eh - I’ve been told I bring out a lot of things, never a savant before.” She was still looking down, at her hands, starting to pick at her nail polish. Some little nervous tick that he hadn’t caught onto till now. “It’s late, you should go to sleep, Dami. I am sure that bed is missing its handsome owner right about now.” She started to look far away, picking up the wine glass and taking the last sip.

He had barely heard what she had said - too focused on her calling him Dami, for the very first time. It was like a little shudder running through him, knowing she was growing closer to him as the time passed. “Are you okay, though? I’m sure my bed will survive without me a little bit longer.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me, I worry enough as it is. Tomorrow is a day off, so I won’t be waking you up in the morning, bus call isn’t until later. Um, but I will be getting breakfast. Is there anything you would want?”

“As long as it involves coffee, I’m happy. I’m sure you’ll pick out the perfect thing anyway.” Damiano watched as she nodded, moving towards the balcony doors and away from him. He felt like grabbing her just to keep her there. He straightened up as well, just barely backing away from the railing. As she left he looked at the space she once occupied, feeling like he could almost make out the outline of her body where it once had been.

Amore mio...

[glassartpeasants]

The Test

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, death, mega angst, pregnancy, premature birth, this hurt to write but thats okay

Gotta get the sad vibes out of thy body. Lets all be sad together

~~~

‘Okay, It’ll be okay. Just tell him! He’s your husband for christ sakes!’ You thought as you paced back and forth inside your room. You were afraid. You loved your husband you really did but sometimes he even made you afraid. 

Kai barely showed his emotions and when he did it was a miracle. Hell you barely just started getting intimate. You’ve only had intercourse 2 times you’ve guys been together. You’ve guys been together for 4 years. You understood his dislike of germs, and you never wanted to make him uncomfortable. So you just kept your wishes for intimacy to yourself. 

His kisses or hugs were almost just as rare as sex. You would tell him you loved him and he’d grunt back at you. You knew it was his language of saying i love you back but sometimes you just wished he’d say it back. You were only human after all. You wished for attention and some sort of love contact.

The last time you guys had sex he wore a condom. You didn’t mind really, it’s not like you were trying for a baby. But out of all the times that the condoms could have failed you,

This was the day of absolute fuckery.

You glared at the positive pregnancy test, hoping it would just disappear. But unfortunately problems like this don’t just disappear. So which leads to where you are now, a woman who is absolutely fucked if she can’t figure out a way to tell her husband she’s pregnant.

“Come on (y/n), you’ve got this. It can’t be that bad right?” You say trying to convince yourself. Kai was very difficult when he wanted to be. So what if he thinks you cheated on him?! You’d be killed on the spot! You wouldn’t be able to even explain, he probably won’t even let you. He had a habit of taking over you.

You sat on the bed as you rubbed your eyes. Trying to hide the tears that threatened to spill. You cried into your hands. This shouldn’t be so hard. He’s your husband. Then why were you so afraid? Was there a possibility that you could tell him without speaking? But how would you-

-the internet

You jumped from your spot on the bed and grabbed your personal computer and began looking at mom websites. Cool pregnancy ideas to tell your husband. You clicked on the link and saw the best ideas there. Get a mug and put the words you're pregnant at the inside of the bottom of the cup. Nah. Gift him baby clothes and let him put the puzzle pieces together. No thats stupid. Get a teddy bear and sew him holding a present, put the test in there and give it to him. Ah fuck it why not?

So from that search alone you RAN out the door and near the closest place where they had teddy bears and presents. You ran as fast as your legs could endure. Whipping your head from aisle to aisle. Looking for the fuzzy stuffy.

You go to the baby aisle and see the best teddy for the job. You quickly grab it as you go to the next aisle for the present. You had picked out a small box that would just fit the test. You smile as you jump up and down in joy. You didn’t know when you became so giddy. Not even an hour ago you were stressed to the point of wanting to hit your head against the door. You take a deep breath in before turning on your heels to pay.

~~~

1 Day Later

You looked at the teddy bear in your hands while sweating. What happened to confident (y/n) yesterday? Oh yeah she left when she had a fight with her husband, a bad one at that too. It was really bad. But you couldn’t stop now. You had to tell him. Better sooner than later. You take a deep breath as you hugged the teddy closer as you let out a sigh. Looking at Kai’s office door you let your hand let out a fragile knock. 

“Come in.” You slowly push the door open, looking in, you see Kai with two of his henchmen. Chronostasis and Nemoto. You didn’t talk to them much but you guys had pretty civil conversations.

“Kai I need to talk to you, without them here please?” You say as you try to stand your ground. You don’t really want your husband's friends to know what’s going on in your guys personal affairs.

“Fine. Chrono, Nemoto, leave.”

“Yes boss.” They leave the room just leaving you and your stonic husband.

“What do you even want?” He says in a voice that makes you question doing this but you go up to him and hand him the teddy bear. Your face beet red as you try to figure out his emotion. Especially when he opened the present.

“Is this a positive pregnancy test?” He says in an emotionless manner, but you couldn’t help but hear the bit of anger in his voice as well.

“Yes, I don’t know what you want to do or-”

“You cheated on me?” Wait what the fuck?

“What! How could you say that!” You say in offense. 

“I wear protection, woman! There's no way I could have gotten you pregnant!”

“Condoms aren’t even 100% effective! It could have busted or had a whole in it!” You yell back. You were offended. You were his wife, how dare he accuse you of such an act! Considering he was so interested in medical things you would think that he would know that condoms aren’t 1005 effective!

“You slut! I give you everything and you go out and cheat on me!”

“I didn’t fucking cheat asshole! God after years of being with you, your immediate reaction was I’m cheating?! Why am I with you if you don’t even trust me!”

“Leave this house! We’re over!” 

“Are you fucking serious?! You won’t even consider it!” You scream at him.

“Leave or else!” His ember eyes looking at you with the intent to kill. You knew that if you wanted to live you had to leave. Tears rush down your eyes as you turn around quickly before swinging open the door. You turn around to him one last time before screaming at the top of your lungs

“I can’t believe I married a cold hearted monster like you! I hope you die alone!” And with those words, you left. Never stepping foot inside that base as long as you lived.

~~~

5 Months Later

“This sucks actually ass.” You growl as you walk around your apartment. It wasn’t the best but it would do for the time being. You got it cause your friend was friends with the owner. All you had to do was take care of the garden they had outside. They wanted to make it eye catching so more people would move in. 

Understandable.

You held your stomach as the urge to pee came over you. Due to the fact a literal baby is growing inside you, it's pushing against your bladder. Kinda rude. You're carrying this baby and it's just gonna do you like this? That’s some bullshit man.

You groan as you continue to sweep your hardwood floor in your small living area. It was much better than living with Kai I guess. You never wanted to see his stupid gorgeous face again.

You look up at the area around you, admiring your work on cleaning the entire apartment. You smirk to yourself before feeling a kick in your stomach. You hold your stomach as you take a breather. Looking back up you notice a familiar golden shine coming from a little dish you kept by the door where you put coins in. 

Walking towards it you notice that its your old wedding ring from you old marriage. You guys never really got divorced so it was still official by law. Annoying yes but you didn’t want to even be in a room with that bastard.

Grabbing the ring you look at it and think how much it would be worth. A final fuck you to the mind that shattered you heart. 

Grabbing it and putting on a coat you start walking out the door and head out the door. Going to a pawn shop around the corner. You would be able to get a little extra cash for the baby.

~~~

“Yes sir I would like to sell this ring.” You place the ring on the counter and slide it over to the employee. His eyes widen as he motions you to come closer.

“This is a yakuza style ring. A Shie Hasssakai kind of ring. Where did you get this?” The man said. He sounded like he was worried. 

“Oh my shit husband gave me this when he proposed to me. Then kicked me out saying I cheated when I told him I was pregnant. Like sorry that a condom is not 100% effective.” You say soundly. The man looks at you with wide eyes. You didn’t really care at the moment because the feeling of lightheadedness was weighing you down. 

“Ma’am are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Before you could say anything you felt a wet feeling coming from in between your legs. Looking down you see that your water broke.

“MA’AM SHOULD WE CALL 119?!” You shook your head up and down before falling down on the ground, the world seems to be growing black around you.

~~~

Ring ring ring

“Hello?”

“Yes Overhaul sir? This is the guys from the pawn store downtown, we have a ring that seemingly belongs to your ex wife.”

“And you're calling me why?”

“Uh...because she was just carried away in an ambulance. She didn’t look very well, boss. My girlfriend had her kid recently and she wasn’t near as sickly looking as she was.” Overhaul couldn’t help but have his chest tighten up a bit. His heart was beating faster and he could feel it. 

“Do you want to know the hospital she’s at Overhaul?”

“Not right now.” Before Kai could even think about what he was doing he hung up the phone and moved his wrist back to the papers. You cheated on him, you’ll be fine. He rolled his eyes but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel the sinking feeling in his stomach. 

Like if he had just made a mistake he would live to regret.

~~~

Kai ran as fast as he could towards the hospital where you stayed. They had sent him a call asking him to come down so he could see his kid. When he said that it wasn’t his, they told him that the DNA matched up perfectly with his. 

Kai felt a painful sting in his chest as he got closer and closer to the hospital. He was thinking on all the ways to apologize to you. And if his pride would allow him to apologize. 

His head rang with the words of what the doctor told him,

***

“Is this Kai Chisaki?”

“Yes it is, why?”

“Well we have you as an emergency contact for miss (y/n) (l/n).”

“Take me off.”

“Excuse me sir?”

“I said take me off.”

“Well I can’t take you off when we called you to tell you that your wife is in critical condition.”

“What?!” Kai tried to not show much worry but he couldn’t help it. No matter how much he told himself that he didn’t love you, thoughts of your smile rushed back into his head. Your laugh. Your everything calmed him down. You were his angel. 

“Unfortunately her water broke early, leaving her to have an early birth and her body was not able to handle it. Your daughter, who we did a dna test on is in the ICU (intensive care unit). Her being born 2 months early is having complications breathing.” Kai couldn’t say a world before he rushed out of the door and into your hospital,

***

He burst through the hospital doors and walked up to the nurse as he panted from running. A look of desperation in his golden eyes.

“Where is my wife and daughter? Mrs. Chisaki?” He said in a moment of panic. He hated the look that the nurse gave him as she told him where to find your room. Before he could run into your room a doctor stopped him by grabbing his shoulder.

“I’m sorry to inform you sir but, the complications your daughter had to breath were to severe. We couldn’t save her. I’m deeply sorry.” Kai looked at the doctor. Not wanting to believe a word he had just said. He felt his hands tremble as he grabbed the doctors shoulders. Tears streaming down his face,

“What about (y/n)? Is she okay at least?!” Desperation in his voice. He can’t lose you. He already lost his daughter that he refused to believe was his, now to late to say hello or I love you. He had to see you. Just to hear you sweet voice at least one more time-

“I’m sorry Chisaki. She was pronounced dead 5 minutes before you came in.” No, no. He refused to believe it. He ran to your room, praying you were still here. You needed to be here. He needed to say he was sorry. That he loved you.

once he burst through your room door his worse fears were confirmed, and what the doctor was true. You no longer a heartbeat monitor. Your chest never moved to show some sort of breathing pattern. Kai ran to you holding your face in his hands. He put your forehead to his as his tears landed on your lashes.

“Please...wake up. I’m begging you. I already lost our daughter, I can’t afford to lose you to. Please my angel. Come back.....” Kai grabbed your limp body and pulled you close to his chest, shaking as he started sobbing uncontrollably. His whole world seemed to stop as he felt his only sort of light in his life be blown out. He cried into your neck as he collapsed onto his knees.

“Please, I don’t wanna be alone.”

[fanmoose12]

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 7/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

It was a recurring dream of hers.

She was sitting behind the desk in a room she couldn’t recognize. There were three other desks there, a big shelf, filled with documents and a black, leather coach. On a desk in front of her, there was a computer, a dozen of folders, pens and used coffee cups scattered around, and on the edge stood a plate. For some reason, Hange was sure that her name was written on it. There was another plate, which was propped up on a desk that was set beside hers. Hange took it in her hands numerous times, trying to see what name was written there. The letters were always too blurry for her to understand.

Evidently, she was inside an office of some sort. The place seemed familiar, extremely so. Hange knew that there was a small crack in the window behind her desk, she knew that her chair creaked whenever she shifted her sitting position, she knew that the best tea was kept on a lower shelf.

And despite all the evidence that she knew this place, she couldn’t remember if she had ever been here. Or who she shared this office with.

In her hands she held a photo album and her fingers slowly traced one picture after another. Each page showed different groups of people – there were a lot of them, but there were only two men, who appeared at each photo. One was tall and blonde, the other one – short and dark-haired. Hange was hugging them in each picture, her face shining with happiness.

The men, however, had no faces.

Out of the dozen people who stood next to Hange on these photos, no one had a face. They were just silhouettes, blurry and hazy.

Same as Hange’s memory of them.

She knew they were important, knew that she loved them, dearly so, but she couldn’t remember them. She didn’t know who they were, she forgot their names and faces, couldn’t recall how their voices sounded like or how they took their coffee. Her mind was like a book that once was filled with memories. But now all the pages were torn out, leaving just the title and the beginnings of first chapter.

It pissed Hange off, it left her frustrated and confused. Who were these people? Were they colleagues? Friends? Family? If they were so close to her, where were they now? Why weren’t they still by her side? Had they left her? Why was she left behind?

These questions tormented Hange. Every time she woke up after that dream, she couldn’t help but ponder upon it, desperately searching for an answer. That’s why she hated this dream so much, it wasn’t as bad as the others ones - the ones about fire and child’s screams and— no, these were the worst, always making Hange wake up in the middle of the night with a hoarse scream on her lips. Dreams about her forgotten life weren’t much better, though. They made her feel so uneasy because—

Because she missed them. She didn’t know these people, had no clear memory of them, but still her heart ached to see them. There was a longing inside her so severe she felt like there was a huge hole in her chest. She had so many feelings, so much love to give—

But there was no one she could share that love with.

Usually, after a dream like that, Hange was reluctant to leave her bed. She could spend literal hours, chewing on her thumb and trying to regain what was lost. Sometimes she could almost see it, the beginning of a memory, a flash of something familiar, but it always ended there, never reaching anything conclusive. Didn’t stop her from trying, though.

This morning, however, was vastly different. This morning, the time for pondering was cut off abruptly, when someone had woken Hange up by roughly kicking the leg of her bed.

She woke up immediately. For a second she was confused, and then— then she got angry. She opened her eyes and put on her glasses, preparing the deadliest of glares for whoever had deigned to disturb her sleep.

Of course. It was stupid Floch. Hange threw a pillow at him, aiming right at his idiotic face. It hit him right in the center of his ugly forehead. If she wasn’t so pissed off, Hange would have laughed at his perplexed expression.

“The fuck are you doing here?” she asked furiously. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not allowed inside my apartment?”

Well, calling the place, where Hange lived, an apartment was quite possibly a huge exaggeration. Her home consisted of one room, a bathroom and a balcony so small she alone could hardly fit there. Zeke claimed that she started living there years before the accident that caused her amnesia had occurred. But, as with everything Zeke had told her, Hange found it hard to believe him – the apartment, when she returned from the hospital, was barren and lifeless. She couldn’t quite imagine living in such pristine place, especially considering the amount of clutter she had accumulated just after a week of living there.

But why would Zeke lie to her? She asked herself that exact question more times than she could count.

“Zeke wants to see you,” Floch told her, bringing Hange back to present.

“Cool,” she stood up and pushed past Floch, heading to the part of her apartment she proudly called the kitchen. In truth, it was just a tiny corner of her room, where a refrigerator and narrow countertop stood.

Yawning, she started the coffee machine and opened the small cabinet, searching for a clean mug. She needed to do the dishes, Hange noted to herself.

“Your place is like a junkyard, four-eyes. You’re living in a dumpster like a fucking raccoon.”

Hange softly chuckled. As with her strange dreams, it wasn’t the first time she had heard this voice. It often appeared inside her head, commenting on situations she had found herself in. Sometimes it gave her valid advice too. She didn’t know if this voice was a sign of her declining mental health, something that should definitely alarm her, or just a repressed memory of sorts. She tried not to think about it too hard. That voice brought her some comfort, and she was always happy to hear it. She couldn’t remember the name of its owner, of course, and since it was sarcastic and often quite rude, she nicknamed it simply ‘the grumpy one’.

“What are you laughing at?” Floch seethed, following after Hange. “And didn’t you hear me? Zeke wants to see you. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Making coffee,” Hange shrugged. “I’d offer a cup to you too, but, unfortunately, I have no poison to go with it. Don’t take it personally,” she smiled, baring her teeth.

“It’s urgent,” Floch pressed, glaring at her.  

Poor thing, Hange thought, as she was filling her mug with steaming coffee, he was probably thinking that he looked fearsome. In truth, Floch reminded Hange of an angry cat, who could do nothing, but hiss.

“If that was actually urgent,” Hange murmured, taking the first sip from the mug. “He wouldn’t have sent you.”

For a moment, Floch was silent. Hange’s smile grew bigger, as she waited for him to catch on. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in shed after all.

“What are you implying?” he asked slowly. He clutched his hands into fists, his chest moved up and down, as he struggled to keep his breathing under control. Hange barely kept herself from laughing. It would have ruined the effect.

“I’m implying, my dear Floch,” she lifted a hand, reaching out to his cheek to pat it with a condescending smile. Floch recoiled from her in disgust. “That you’re not the man Zeke trusts the most. I don’t think he trusts you at all,” she added with an infuriating smirk.

Floch growled, taking a step closer to her.

Hange watched him with giddy trepidation. Was he going to punch her? God, she wanted him to punch her so badly. It’d give her an excuse to punch him back.

“Try to be more civil, Hange, I know that he’s a jerk, but you both are a part of one team.”

That was another one of her voices. This Hange named ‘the serious one’. It was always spoiling all of the fun, but she couldn’t deny it – nine times out of ten, that voice was right in denying Hange her amusement. It was the closest thing she had to an impulse control.

This time, she decided to listen to it too, even though she wanted to have fun so, so much.

“I need to go and take a shower,” she announced, putting her mug with unfinished coffee back on the counter. “And if you, Floch, do not wish to join, then get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“Ugh,” Floch cringed at her suggestion. “Not in a million years. But hurry up. You don’t want to anger Zeke, do you?” curving his lips into a smug grin of his own, he gestured to Hange’s face. “I’m sure you remember what happens when you misbehave.”

The house, engulfed in a bright fire, a child, begging for help, the black smoke and hot flames, the weight of a small body in her arms, the sharp edge of a knife that punished her for saving an innocent life, the pain in her left eye—

Hange shook her head, pushing these memories to the back of her mind. It was enough that they haunted her at nights, she wouldn’t let them torment her during daytime as well.

“Just go already,” Hange sighed, walking past him. “Tell Zeke I’ll come to see him soon.”

 ***

Hange’s ‘soon’ came almost an hour later. Whatever Zeke needed from her, it definitely wasn’t urgent. If it was, he’d sent anyone else, but Floch. On bad days, that guy couldn’t be trusted even with tying his own shoelaces.

She closed the door to her apartment and walked up the stairs to get to the third floor. The previous headquarters of their criminal organization was blown up - damaged weaponry was to blame, or so Zeke said. And ever since, they’ve been hiding in one of the abandoned buildings at the outskirts of a city. The first floor was designed to hold the higher ranked members of a gang, the second was for storage, and the third floor was what Zeke called his briefing room.

The whole floor was used for that exact purpose, in a center there was a long oak table and all around it were plastic, uncomfortable chairs. On the wall behind, Zeke put up the writing boards, although Hange had never seen someone actually use them. They probably were there to simply create an entourage and not serve as something truly useful. Even man as efficient and cruel as Zeke wasn’t immune to bursts of theatrics, it seemed.

When Hange entered the briefing room, there was no one but Zeke and Pieck inside. Hange grinned instantly, waving to Pieck with a clear glee, reflecting in her glasses.

Hange liked Pieck. A lot. Pieck was overly sarcastic and in all the time they knew each other, Hange honestly didn’t remember if they had at least one friendly exchange, but Pieck was funny. And trustworthy too. When Zeke had punished her for saving a child of his enemy, Pieck was the one, who helped her treat the wound.

However, if there was no one there, but Pieck, it meant that Floch was right. Zeke wanted to tell her something important. Something he wanted to keep a secret.

“And here you are!” he spread his arms in welcoming gesture. “We’ve been waiting for you for quite a while.”

“Then let’s get it over with quick,” Hange trudged up to one of the chairs and plopped down on it heavily.

“Your desire is my command,” Zeke put on a pleasant and obviously fake smile. Hange didn’t smile back.

“There is someone I need you to meet with,” Zeke began, lighting up a cigarette. Hange cringed in disgust, she hated cigarette smoke. And Zeke knew it.

“Who is it?”

“A past associate of mine. We’ve… drifted apart after the accident. I need you to go and see if we can rekindle our love.”

“And…” Hange tilted her head, observing Zeke carefully. “Why does it have to be me?”

Zeke shrugged. “You’re smart, Hange. And, unfortunately, the same can’t be said about all of my employees.”

“You’re the only one I can trust with this, Hange. I know you can do it.”

Hange had to blink a few times, because this time… it wasn’t just a voice. No, she could also see piercing blue eyes and strong jaw. She could see them as clearly as she saw Zeke and Pieck in front of her. Zeke’s eyes were blue too, but nothing like that vivid, bright color Hange had just seen. What was it? A memory? A vision? Was she truly losing her mind?

“…Oi, you weirdo, hey— goddamn it, Hange, do you hear us?”

She instantly snapped back to reality.

“Yes?” her lips curved into a lazy smile, as she turned to face Pieck. “Do you need something, dear Pieck?”

Pieck didn’t roll her eyes or even scoff. Instead, she continued to carefully survey Hange, chewing on her lip worriedly.

“What the fuck was that?” she asked after a moment, her eyes still following Hange’s every move. “It looked like you just blacked out or something. Were my concerns about your sanity actually correct?”

Good question, Hange mused internally.

Externally, she waved Pieck off, putting her arms behind her head and sitting back in a chair. She relaxed in her seat and willed all of her troubling thoughts away.

“Everything’s awesome, dear Pieck. So,” she looked back at Zeke. “Who do I have to meet?”

“His name is Djel Sannes,” Zeke answered, looking at Hange just as intently as Pieck did moments ago. “He’ll be waiting for you this evening in an underground parking lot of the local police department.”

“Police department?!” Hange frowned, taken aback. “Are you insane?”

“What?” Zeke smiled innocently at her. “Is there going to be a problem?”

“Duh,” Hange threw her hands in the air. “It’s a police department, Zeke!”

“Yeah,” he took a drag of his cigarette and then slowly released a white, fat ring of smoke. “And what of it?”

“Have you forgotten,” Hange gritted through teeth. “That we’re members of a fucking gang?”

“We’re a part of a criminal organization,” Zeke corrected, his face contorting in disgust. Of course, how Hange could forget. Calling themselves a gang was too unsophisticated for his snobby ass. “And don’t you worry,” Zeke sent her another smile. “That’s why you’re meeting in a parking lot. No one will know that you’ve even been there. Besides, you’re not going alone.”

Hange lightened up. “Pieck is coming with me?”

“No,” Zeke’s tapped his fingers on a table’s surface, and Hange had a sinking feeling that told her she would really hate his next words. “Floch is going to go with you.”

“Fuck, no,” Hange answered immediately. “I won’t go with that jerk, no fucking way.”

“Don’t be like that, Floch can be annoying, I know, but there is a lot he can learn from you.”

God, just the thought of spending time with that idiot made her skin crawl.

“He’ll be a good boy, I promise,” Zeke added sweetly.

Hange sighed, getting up to her feet. “If he so much as opens his mouth at inappropriate time, I’ll punch him so hard he forgets his name.”

“That’s a deal,” Zeke nodded. “And Hange?” he called when she was almost at the door. “Do you think you can handle going to the police department?”

Hange narrowed her eyes. “If no one will notice us, then what’s the problem?”

“You sure?” he asked again, giving her a weird look. Hange stared back, not sure what the fuck was going on. Was it some kind of a test? If so, then what was its purpose?

“Of course,” she mumbled and left the room.

She wasn’t in a mood for Zeke’s mind games today. She had Floch to deal with, and he already was annoying enough to cause her a headache.

  ***

“I want to make something clear,” Hange fixed Floch with a hard look. “In this car, the driver always chooses the music. Blink if you understand.”

Floch glared back, but as he saw that this wasn’t working on Hange, he sighed and nodded. “I understand.”

“Great!” Hange smiled and clasped his shoulder so hard, Floch cringed. “Then let’s go! An exciting trip is ahead of us!” she started the car and turned on the music. The first notes of “Let it go” began to play and Floch groaned. Hange’s smile widened.

“Your music taste is as shit as ever,” the grumpy one in her head said. “At least it’s not me who is suffering this time.”

  ***

"You have to turn left," Floch fumed exasperatingly.

"Shut up,” Hange snapped, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"The GPS says we have to turn left," Floch lifted his hand, trying to reach out to Hange and take the wheel under his control. She harshly slapped his hand away.

"The GPS is wrong then," Hange blew a stray hair away from her face. "My route is shorter."

"And how do you know that?" Floch demanded.

"I just do," she sighed, trying very hard not to focus on that question. She just did know that this route was shorter. Just like she knew that there was a food court nearby that sold delicious hotdogs. And that on weekdays, the traffic was terrible, especially in the afternoon. She just— she just knew. It was  S a mystery, same as her confusing dreams and weird voices inside her head.

One crossroad later, their car stopped in front of the precinct's parking lot.

"There," Hange announced proudly. "We arrived."

Floch frowned. "The ETA said we would be driving for another five minutes."

"The shorter route," Hange reminded him with a grin. "Now go!" she gave Floch a rough shove, pushing him out of the car.

"What the fuck?" he complained. "I was supposed to go with you!"

"And you will," Hange explained with a roll of her eyes. "But I need you to check if the parking lot is really empty. We can't be seen, remember?"

"Riight," Floch reluctantly agreed. "So I just have to go in there? Make sure that it’s deserted?"

"I take my words back, Floch," Hange looked at him impressively, pressing a hand to her chest. "You're not a complete idiot after all."

"Fuck you," he growled.

"Love you too!" Hange waved her hand, watching Floch get out of the car with a smile on her face.

As soon as he closed the door, Hange exhaled and looked up at the sky. The grey, heavy clouds were gathering up above. The streets became darker and the city around her looked ominous, as though signaling every citizen about the upcoming disaster. Hange instantly admonished herself, she was being ridiculous. The cloudy weather could mean only one thing - that it was going to rain. And a little rain hardly ever hurt anyone.

"Makes everything look so messy, though."

Hange hummed, drumming her fingers on a steering wheel. She was a mess. She wondered if the grumpy one would like her.

  ***

"The coast is clear," Floch announced once he was back inside the car.

"Any sign of our guy?" Hange asked, starting the car.

"Not yet," Floch shook his head.

"Someone is not a fan of punctuality," she tsked in mock disappointment. "Luckily, we're not in a hurry."

Hange drove the car inside the parking lot. Just as Floch had said, it was blessedly empty. She stopped near the center, so they would have a better vantage point. Then Hange turned off the engine and opened the door, walking out and stretching her limbs.

Now all they had to do was wait.

"Do you know what he looks like?" Floch stood next to Hange.

"I do. Zeke showed me a photo."

The man was probably working closely with them before. Hange felt like she knew him. But she wasn’t sure that sending her to meet with the man was a good idea. Sannes’s photo evoked a strong a sense of annoyance inside her. Hange wondered what kind of relationship they used to have before.

It wasn't long before she got her chance to find out. After several minutes of waiting, Sannes walked onto the parking lot. He wasn't alone, though. No, next to him was a short, dark-haired guy. There was... something about him. Even though, his back was facing her, Hange couldn't look away. Her breath quickened and she watched him, unblinkingly, waiting for the man to show his face.

And then he did.

He turned around, for just a second, but it was enough for Hange to catch a glimpse of his face. Her knees almost gave up under her, as a short gasp escaped her lips.

It was— it was Levi.

Hange's head began to spin as memories from her old life came rushing back to her. She staggered backwards, falling to her knees, as all of it nearly overwhelmed her. It felt like her skull was going to combust from all the information. She remembered now, remembered almost everything.

Her days at the academy, meeting Levi and Erwin and then befriending them both, her first case and hundreds that followed after it, the sleepless nights, spent in the precinct with Levi by her side, the morning coffees she shared with Erwin, the jokes she told to Moblit and his team during lunches, the bar where they went to drink at after work. She remembered Erwin’s smile and Levi’s scowl, remembered the soapy smell of his hair and the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. Remembered how tightly he pressed herself against his side whenever she had too much to drink at the bar. Remembered the concern that appeared inside his usually emotionless eyes whenever she got hurt or wounded. There was so much she was missing, there was so much that was taken from her.

Hange seethed as she thought of what Zeke had done to her and everyone she cared about. Before she succumbed to the anger completely, though, rough hands grabbed her shoulders, grounding her in reality. She looked up, blinking a few times.

Floch was crouched in front of her.

"What the fuck?" he looked at her with a mix of annoyance and panic. "Have you finally lost it?"

Having your life turn upside will do that to you, Hange mentally scoffed.

But now she needed to focus. She couldn’t let Floch know that her memories came back.

So she put her feelings to the back of her mind, shutting them off, and forced a smile. "No need to worry," she patted Floch’s shoulder and rose to her feet. "Just feeling a little bit dizzy. Shouldn’t have skipped the breakfast."

Floch narrowed his eyes in suspicion, watching Hange for another second. But then he rolled his eyes and stood up too. Good, he seemed to have bought her lie. "You're such a freak."

"I'm simply unique," Hange grinned. "Now, hurry up and get to work."

"Huh?"

"Our guy, Floch," she pointed behind herself. "He's leaving. Go and talk to him."

"Didn't Zeke tell you to do that?"

"He did, but things changed. See that shorty next to him?" the nickname rolled easily off her tongue. How could she forget her favorite clean freak, Hange wondered absentmindedly. She must have hit her head pretty badly. Levi always said she was too scatterbrained for her own good. "We need to distract him. I'll do that and you talk with our target. Alright?"

"Alright," Floch agreed.

As soon as Floch left, Hange sighed in relief. One less thing to worry about. For a second, she watched as Floch maneuvered between the cars in the shadows. Then she turned back to Levi. He was already finished with tearing Sannes a new one, and was now walking right in Hange’s direction. He was probably heading to his car, she tried to calm herself. She was well hidden in a shadow and she stood behind a car. He wouldn’t be able to see her. There was nothing to panic about. Still, Hange’s heart was beating so loudly, she was sure Levi could hear it too.

She wanted to go to him. Every part of her screamed with need to see Levi. To look at his scowling face, to hear his raspy voice. It took all of Hange’s willpower to tear her gaze away from him. She couldn’t do it, not right now. She was a mess, a clatter of old memories and dozen contrasting emotions. She needed to keep it together, to sort it all out.

Yes, that was what she was going to do. Fuck Floch and Sannes, she couldn’t deal with them right now. What she needed was to clear her head. With that in mind, Hange decided to get back inside the car. She looked back for a second, checking on Floch. He was already by Sannes’s side, leading him out of the parking lot. Then she glanced at Levi. He was standing on the other side of a parking lot, a distance away from Hange. He was next to his car, and Hange couldn’t keep a smile off her face, as she realized that he was wiping off a stain from his rear window. God, what a clean freak, she thought, feeling her chest fill with affection.

It wasn’t the time to stare or reminisce, though. She needed to move, to get out of here before her resolve crumbles. Hange took a step in the direction of her car. She did it slowly, not taking her eye off Levi even for a second. He was still fumbling with a stain, so she took another step. She was almost close enough to open the door. Hange lifted her leg and then—

And then her shoe squeaked.

Levi snapped his head around instantly, looking up in alarm. Hange put a hand over her mouth and sank to her knees. She froze in that position, watching Levi with wide, panicked eye.

“Who is there?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and taking a step closer. A car separated them, and Hange prayed that Levi wouldn’t check behind it.

He stood there for what felt like hours. Sweat began to drip down Hange’s forehead, as she tried to predict Levi’s next move. She heard him take another step and then put his hand on a hood of a car.

“Is anyone here?” Levi repeated his question.

Hange closed her eye, pressing hands tighter to her lips. If she so much as peeps right now, she was doomed.

Levi glanced between the cars and then sighed, turning around.

“I really need to sleep,” he muttered, raising a hand to ruffle his hair. He looked around the parking lot once again, and then started heading back to his car.

Hange waited for him to get inside, and only then allowed herself to relax.

“Fuck,” she breathed out, watching as Levi drove away. As soon as he left, Hange jumped up and hurried to her own car. She hopped in and started the engine, eager to leave this place behind as quickly as possible.

There was a lot she needed to think about.

  ***

Someone was looking after it.

There were fresh flowers – peonies, her favorite. All weeds had been taken out.

On a bright, white stone there was an epitaph engraved.

A brilliant mind. The kindest of hearts. A loyal, dear friend. Without your shining presence, the world had lost some of its light. Staring down at her own grave was... a weird experience. Hange wasn't yet sure how she felt about it.

Normal people would probably be weirded out by this. Some would start contemplating their own mortality and the impact they leave on the world. Most would be afraid to even look at it. Hange felt nothing but burning, seething rage.

Zeke would pay for this. No matter what it takes, be it her own life, but Hange would bring him to justice. She would do anything to ruin his life. Just as he had ruined hers.

She didn't know for how long she was standing there motionlessly, lost to her swirling thoughts. The rain had started - a cold, heavy downpour - but Hange paid no mind to it. She was so far gone she didn't even hear the approaching footsteps. Or a quiet, shocked gasp.

She felt a trembling hand on her elbow, though. She whirled around and saw those piercing blue eyes.

Tears started to well up in her own eye, as she stared up at him.

"Hange?" Erwin whispered softly, quietly as though he was afraid that his loud voice would shutter the feeble illusion. That Hange would disappear like smoke in the wind. "Is that really you?"

"I guess?" she chuckled. The tears were now freely streaming down her face.

"Hange, oh god," Erwin threw away his umbrella and quickly shortened the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her.

Hange buried her face into his jacket, sobbing loudly.

"I missed you, Erwin. T-there is so much I need to tell you."

"And I'll gladly listen to you," Hange could hear a smile in his voice, and she felt her own lips curve upwards too. "But as for now," Erwin leaned in and gently kissed the crown of her head. "Welcome back, Hange."

[bang-to-the-tan]

Moth to Flame

Chapter 12

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot

Warnings: Reference to Sexual Scenes, Slight Stockholm Syndrome?, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

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You find it impossible to mark the passage of time.

Namjoon is gracious enough to allow you a shower before bed (the first time you can recall bathing alone), and by the time you return, staggering and stumbling for the beating you’ve taken, the sheets are clean and the vampire is gone. When you wake up, tangled in blankets that smell too much like him and still wearing the towel, you have no idea whether its daytime, nighttime, early or late. Not that it really matters. Namjoon’s bathrobe swallows you whole in deep navy fluff when you tug it over your naked body, snatching it off a nearby hat rack. Even so, it’s more than nothing, and you are in no way going to put on that jizz-crusted hoodie ever again. You simply pull the ties extra-tight around your waist, pushing the sleeves up as much as you can, wandering out to the main living room. There’s coffee on the bar and the house is seemingly empty, traffic outside occasionally lending itself to a faint, ambient roar.

In a daze, wincing every time you move your legs a certain way, you reach for a nearby mug and pour yourself a cup of what tastes like jet fuel, doing your best to massage the encroaching headache out of your temples. A slip of paper on the counter, written in a lanky, heavy script, tells you that Yoongi is still technically, probably, home—but busy, so try not to ‘bother him’ unless you ‘need him’—in the spare room. Hoseok is at his yoga class. You scowl even at just the sight of his name. You hope he trips over a mat and chokes on his own tongue. Dick.

Namjoon is ‘out’, whatever that means, as shady as that sounds. But he’ll be back by 12, says the note. You glance up to squint at the gritty, green analog clock built into the tiny stove, and it reads 11:37. Great. You slept through most of the potential alone time you could have had…although, do you really want alone time?

You aren’t sure what you want. Could try to run for it. With no idea where you are, clad in an oversized robe, by all accounts smelling like the bloodsucker equivalent of a watering hole in a desert, fighting a monster of a headache. Right.

The couch sags invitingly when you throw yourself at it, and the tv crackles a little when you flick it on with the remote sitting on the end table. Huh. The vampires have Netflix. Who would have guessed. You take another sip of the nastiest, strongest, almost-cold cup of joe you’re pretty sure you’ve ever tasted, sifting through channels and shows before finally settling on some cop drama. Nothing cerebral, just a time killer. The beginnings of that headache has, over just the time you’ve spent meandering, multiplied into something searing, pounding through your eye sockets and straight for the back of your skull. It would make sense for you to be hungry, and you almost consider it, but at this point, you’re hurting so badly that the thought of food has your stomach doing backflips. You end up sprawled on the sofa, pressing a pillow to your face, ignoring the light scent of Hoseok’s body wash and wishing ill on anyone who’s ever so much as looked at you.

“Migraine?”

You stiffen, clutching the pillow closer. It’s difficult to resist the urge to clamp your aching legs shut, but you resist anyway, filled with violent promises at the thought of the owner of that gravelly tone even so much as hinting at doing anything funny.

You can hear Yoongi shuffling about towards the kitchen, the clank of glass as he fishes through a cupboard for a clean mug, the tsk when he can’t find one and the rush of the water when he finally decides to simply rinse one out. It takes a full beat before what he said even registers.

“Migraine.” You repeat, sour and muffled. “Yeah.”

“Sucks.”

“It does.”

The pour of what could probably be classed as chemical warfare, a sniff before you can hear him take a criminally deep swig. He smacks obnoxiously at the taste and you are more appalled at his apparent enjoyment than his manners. He’s making an awful lot of fucking noise as he drags his feet back towards the hallway and you aren’t sure whether you appreciate it or not.

“Ice pack in freezer.” He croaks. “Put it back when it’s warm.”

You follow the sound of his feet—slippers? It sounds like slippers—down towards the spare room, and then the click of the door as he trudges through it and pulls it shut behind him.

You wait.

But there’s no indication that it’s a trap. A game. Just the quiet resuming; the occasional scream of a car going too fast, honking in the distance. The pillow slides off your face slowly so you can properly glare in the direction of the front door, still not fully convinced. Eventually, motivated by the pain rattling your bones, you drag yourself off the sofa and towards the half-sized freezer. True enough, there’s a pack situated next to the ice, filled with some kind of bean and delightfully cold. It’s shaped like a turtle, complete with googly eyes, vaguely t-shirt material dyed green and faded from use. Vampires get migraines…? Very little in the universe matters when you press it to your eyes curiously and immediately feel a rush of relief. You turn the volume on the tv way down and resume your position, but now with your new best friend laid across your brow and cheeks. God, if only vampires also had medication. Maybe Yoongi knows if there’s aspirin in this house. Hmm…on second thought, asking him sounds like a bad idea. Who knows what kind of mood he’s actually in. And god knows you are in no shape to deal with the ramifications if he can’t control himself. Or yourself. You grimace, and then wince when even just the pulling of your facial muscles lends itself to pain.

The world spins above you, but somehow you drift off, despite feeling your heartbeat in your teeth. You slip into something between dream and reality, your sense of self dissolving into nothing. There’s only one thing that remains constant between half-dreams and thoughts that slip through your fingers like sand: Jin. His voice, dragging on into forever. He’s talking constantly, but not to you. There’s no affection in his voice, but it still sounds important. You can’t be bothered to understand any of it. Something about clocks? Protests?

The only way you can tell that you’ve fallen asleep is that suddenly you’re awake, and aware of a warm palm slipping beneath the turtle to feel at your forehead. You don’t bother panicking. It’s Namjoon. You can smell him. You hate that you can fucking smell him, and you hate the comfort that curls in your stomach the second you recognize his scent. Bastard. You aren’t glad he’s home. You aren’t. You will the universe to stop revolving around the feeling of the pads of his hand brushing your hairline, and fail.

“It’ll be cold, dumbass,” you seethe, unable to move your mouth too much, eyes still closed. “On account of the cold pack.”

“Feeling if you’re clammy, dumbass,” Namjoon returns smoothly. “You look sweaty.”

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles above you, his wide hand retreating from your skin, allowing cool bean heaven back onto your eyeballs where it belongs. “You look sick, are you feeling okay?”

That warrants you moving the turtle just enough to glare at him through your lashes, the light smearing his outline like a rushed painting.

“Do I look like I’m feeling okay?”

“No, you look sick,” he reiterates, eyes defensive. He hesitates with a huff, mouth quirking. You slide the ice pack back over just so you won’t have to admire his plump lips anymore. “Did…did you feel sick at Jin’s? Maybe it’s…I mean…”

“It probably is your fault,” you grumble.

“You think so? I don’t know. We’ve never…”

“Pretty fuckin’ likely.”  

“I looked it up, and sometimes women get migraines after their periods.” God, he’s still talking. You groan, turning, curling further into the couch, pressing your forearm to the cold pack to convince it even closer. If you could get it under your skin, you would without hesitation. “So maybe it’s the blood loss?”

“Apology accepted.”

“I haven’t—“

“Joon, seriously, please.”

He’s quiet for a blissful second.

“Was it last night?”

“Namjoon.”

“Sorry.”

You feel a nudge at your hand. On reflex, you relax your fingers, feeling something press into your palm. You roll it discerningly with your fingertips, uninterested in moving to look at it. A pill?

“There’s water on the stand.” His voice returns, this time hushed. “Yoongi said you had a migraine so I got you some medicine on my way home.”

A decent man, a good man. God bless Yoongi. You take it without hesitation, feeling upwards for the promised drink and finding it easily. It’s a task to press it to your lips without moving the turtle, but you manage, and by the time you’ve set it back on the side and sunk back into the cushions, you feel as though you’ve done enough moving for the year.

“Can I sit here?”

You aren’t thrilled by his continued insistence on saying things, but he’s brought drugs and lowered his volume enough that you offer him a begrudging grunt. The sofa creaks when he settles into it by your feet, his thigh pressing into the pads of your feet comfortably. He’s warm where denim meets your skin and you immediately pull away, twitching. There’s no point, there’s nowhere to go, and eventually you have to allow it.

In the quiet, you realize that the low noise in the background is actually Jin, still talking. He’s holding a conversation with a woman whose voice you don’t recognize. They’re discussing something political—you don’t have any context but it sounds like an ongoing issue of grave importance. Confused, you peek up at the tv and sure enough, there he is, seated in an uncomfortable-looking chair, set against a mock-up of a city skyline. He makes that suit look good, smart and casual, hair styled perfectly. You forget how perfect his skin is, the softness of his pink lips, the way his eyes glitter underneath dark brows. But there’s something vacant about him that you don’t like. When he looks to his cohost, it lacks the tenderness you remember. Your heart twinges, and you could swear the emotion that you feel is longing. Disgusting.

It suddenly occurs to you that just as long as you’ve been watching Jin speak, so has Namjoon. You hazard a glance at him from under the ice pack.

He’s leaning back into the couch, one arm slung over in your direction, the other settled against his thigh. The light of the tv plays over the planes of his face, glints off his hair with unnatural blues and reds. There’s something odd in his expression. His eyes are proud, soft, gentle. But his lips are taut, annoyed, and he’s obviously deep in thought. His jaw ticks when the camera pans back over to Jin, brow creasing.

“What happened?” you mumble. You know he can hear you but he pretends like he can’t. You nudge his thigh with your foot, frowning. “Come on, Namjoon, you owe me. For last night.”

“I apologized for that.” His voice is quiet. He doesn’t look at you.

“Then for everything else. Just until the meds kick in. Tell me a story.”

“I wanted to take you out today,” he diverts. “But if you still aren’t feeling alright in like a half hour, we’ll go tomorrow—“

“I want to know what happened between you and Jin.”

He falls silent. You aren’t sure whether you should push it, but surely there has to be some sway to the way he’s been treating you. You’re considering the best ways to coerce it out of him when he speaks up again.

“I don’t remember who gave it to me. Being like this.”

You squash the excitement, the victory, that rises in your chest in favor of a curious noise. “No?”

“No. It was a long time ago. But I tried…” he clears his throat and shifts. “I tried to keep going to school for a while after. College; just community, but something.”

“And Jin?”

“I found him by accident. There was a bus I used to take to campus. He rode on it every day. Never saw him get off. He had this stare…” He shrugs. You watch him raise his hand to rub at his lips, eyes distant. “One day I just…didn’t get off at the school. Just followed him. I dunno what I was thinking, but I swear I could sense it in him. We got to talking, and…”

Namjoon’s chuckle reverberates through the sofa, warms your bones. “I mean, fuck, what do you do when you feel like the only person on the planet and suddenly you’re meeting someone just like you? Of course we teamed up. Tried to figure it all out. Realized we could haze people. Moved in together. Shared everything.”

You scoot more comfortably into the couch, allowing your eyes to dip closed.

“Met Yoongi and Hobi after that. Jin had…a thing for being in control of a situation. I was always the ‘leader’ once we realized there was such a thing as covens. Groups of people like us with territories and shit. I’d meet with them sometimes, talk about those things in alleyways and bowling alleys, diners—diplomatic. But he was always keeping things tied down at home. He was always trying to make sure we were all okay. I guess it comes with being the oldest.”

He pauses.

“I have no idea when he was changed, actually. He never talked about it and I never pushed. I know he’s older, though. I always looked to him for answers. But after Jimin and Taehyung—it got complicated. Tae was a decision we made together, and Jimin…Jimin was my fault. I went behind Jin’s back for Jimin. He wasn’t happy. Finding victims who the haze worked on, avoiding police—it was rough back then and we couldn’t afford another mouth to feed. Could barely keep a handle on Taehyung, once he woke up. I shouldn’t have done it.”

His hand alights on your knee, rubbing absently. There’s nothing sexual in it; you aren’t even sure whether he’s aware he’s doing it. It feels nice. It feels really nice. You choke back whatever emotion that’s trying to bring forth in you.

“I don’t regret it,” he adds hastily. “I don’t regret it. We were a family. But it only got worse. Jin was upset that I didn’t ask him and I upset that I apparently had to. Who said he was my keeper anyway? We were supposed to be partners...A lot of stuff came out. Differences in opinion. We argued constantly. There were rumors of cops getting too close, and we were so scared of being found out. In the end, Yoongi and Hobi and I decided to leave. Jin decided to stay.” He snorts. “And we all know how that ended up.”

“How did that ended up?” you murmur.

“Jungkook.” He says his name like it’s the punchline to a joke. “It ended up with Jungkook. After all that shit about scarcity and keeping a low profile.”

You mull over what he’s saying.

“Jungkook said you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him.” Namjoon replies quickly, pulling a sigh through his nose, like he’s had this conversation countless times already. “I don’t like what he represents. That Jin can just do whatever he wants to do. That he doesn’t have to listen to anyone else. That earth and heaven can and should orbit around Jin, and everyone else just falls in line. Jin, the martyr.”

“He works hard.”

“He does. We all do.”

“He misses you.”

“That’s a step.”

You try again. “Jimin misses you.”

His chuckle catches even him by surprise, becoming a snort. “Now that I believe.” There’s a beat of quiet. His voice goes soft. “Jimin always was happiest when we were all together.”

“What about you?”

Another moment of silence passes. His hand on your knee tightens, thumb rubbing gently, as if afraid to let go.

“I don’t know. I’m happy sometimes.”

“When?”

“How are you feeling, by the way?” Your leg feels cold when he moves his hand to brush his palm beneath the turtle again. You peer at him through the cracks in your eyelashes, and for a moment you could almost believe you can see how long he’s been alive. It’s written in the slope of his eyes, his brow, the tight line of his lips pursed in what nearly passes for a smile. He looks tired. Unbelievably tired. “Good enough to go shopping?”

“Shopping?”

“For clothes. You can’t wear my bathrobe forever.”

“Who’s bathrobe? This one’s mine.”

He snorts again, turning away to pat your ankle. “Good enough to sass me back means good enough to go. I’ll ask Yoongi if you can borrow his sweats.”

The couch squeaks in protest when he gets up, and you turn away into the cushion. It’s a lot to think on. You aren’t sure a sad story mostly made of being needlessly catty to each other makes up for kidnapping and…well, probably murder (you’re not gonna think on that one too heavily) but it’s definitely a rough situation. You almost feel bad. You almost feel…sympathetic. What’s the word? Stockholm. It takes a lot of self-control not to roll your eyes at yourself.

The turtle begins to levitate off your eyes independent of your will and you whine, clutching at it, casting a glance upwards. It’s Namjoon leaning over the couch at you, tugging at the turtle with a pinch of fabric.

“Yoongi said he’d trade sweatpants for the turtle.”

You frown up at him, hands falling to your sides, relinquishing the item in question. “Would he rather I didn’t wash the sweatpants either when I return them?” you ask dryly.

“He didn’t say as much, but probably.” He’s straightening, already on his way to make the trade, tossing the pack up and catching it deftly with long fingers as he goes.

Hold on a second.

“You didn’t give him back the dirty vibrator, did you, Namjoon?” you ask, suddenly horrified.

No reply. The door to the spare room clicks open and you sit up just in time to watch him disappear behind it.

“You didn’t, right, Namjoon??” You raise your voice, but flinch back, fingers flying to rub at your temples again. The headache’s better, but it isn’t gone. You’re no longer on the brink of dying, at least, but you’ll be tender for a while yet, you suspect. Long enough to get clothes.

What even is the point?

You throw another look at the far door.

Who would bother buying clothes for you if you weren’t going to be around for much longer? There’s the thought that turns your blood icy.

Are you going to be around for much longer? How does this all end? Fuck, you miss being hazed, you miss not thinking about these things, you miss not having to care. Your head pounds.

For a moment, in the stillness, the tiny apartment with the tv on quietly and the traffic outside, you are the only human being on the planet.

Previous    Masterlist          Next

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Kat Watches Mighty Med

27 seconds in and they’ve already made a poop joke. Wow.

ALSO THEY’RE BABIES?? THEYRE SO TINY???

Oh my god I forgot about the thing they did where they pretend to take a picture together. Do they not have cameras on their phones I’m so confused.

CLYDE AND WALLACE I REMEMBER THEM

Ahh token Violent Girl

She’s pretty tho 👀 and I like her style

Where do I know this chick from

Oh hey she’s Hazel from Dolphin Tale

“He won’t say a word” “Really, where are we gonna get a muzzle?” A MUZZLE YOU SAY?

“Fine, just keep him away from me” “Now we gotta get a leash, this is becoming a nightmare!” STOPPPP THINGS ARE BEGINNING TO MAKE SENSE ABOUT MYSELF

I’m sorry you’re telling me a cardboard cutout was heavy enough to trigger a nerf gun and a singular dart managed to knock a chandelier type item down?? I’m sorry no???

“You always do these crazy things and expect me to just follow you!” “Hold that thought, follow me” okay fine comedy

Also you’re telling me this superhero looked around to make sure nobody saw him go into the secret supply closet and didn’t notice the teenage boy standing in the middle of the room looking directly at him

THE SPECIAL EFFECTS WLDBEKE NOOO

Also how do I still have the entire theme song memorized. Send help.

“Maybe the extreme gravity pulled his heart from his chest down to his feet!” IM SORRY IS THAT HOW THIS WORKS NOW? I KNOW I PASSED BIOLOGY BY EXACTLY ONE POINT BUT THAT SEEMS A LIL INACCURATE

“What do you think they’re gonna do to us?”

“It says ‘now you die!’”

“Do you think they mean you or me?”

“Well it says ‘you’.” OKAY FINE THATS FUNNY

Wait how the hell did they manage to say the word “sexiest” on Disney channel

Cause the guy is holding a mug and he reads out what the mug says and word for word it’s “world’s sexiest chief of staff and vice chancellor of medical administration.” I’m still stuck on the ‘sexiest’ part how the hell did that end up on Disney channel

Sweatervest’s voice is insanely squeaky. Who wants to bet he hits puberty for season two.

“I’m gonna get a normo cage.” What’s with all the dehumanization in this show hot damn it hasn’t even been 10 minutes

Here it comes here comes the first mention of the bridge thing

“This. Is a picture of a bridge. I love bridges!” He’s so enthusiastic and for what. Was it a setup the entire time for Bridgette or did they name her that as an afterthought. Hmm.

THEY DO HAVE PHONES WHAT’S THE POINT OF THE FAKE PHOTO THING

Also bridge guy is officially a boomer. He mentioned the whole “you youngins are always on your phones” shit. Shut up I hate you now.

Hold the fuckity. So the Annihilator stole Skylar’s powers and invisible flying motorcycle. Okay cool. But he also stole her clothes? And left her standing there? IN HER UNDERWEAR? AND OLIVER PROCEEDS TO STARE INTO SPACE, THINKING ABOUT THIS MOMENT? HELLO??? I guess we know what he’ll be thinking about next time he ma— *dies*

Sorry but Gus (he’s the one that they discussed muzzling and leashing by the way) sniffing Jordan’s hair after coming up behind her all creepy-like (although it doesn’t seem to be being played in a creepo way, just a nuisance) is giving me major Doofus Drake vibes. Stop that.

“MY PARENTS GIVE ME MONEY INSTEAD OF ATTENTION” I FORGOT GUS WAS RICH AND NEGLECTED NOOO

Damn this man is straight up impaled through the chest

“We kind of have a prior commitment.” “I thought your commitment was to this hospital.” SIR THESE KIDS ARE LIKE 14 AND IN SCHOOL?????? LIKE ITS THE MIDDLE OF THE SCHOOL DAY?

Why are there literally 8 desks in this classroom. No class is that small I’m-

How does Disney channel think school works. Cause it’s not like this.

Why are the teen boys left alone in a surgery room with a dying superhero. They’re gonna fuck it up somehow.

DID YOU JUST PULL A STOPSIGN OUT OF A MAN’S CHEST WITH YOUR BARE HANDS? FIRST OFF THATS SO UNSANITARY AND SECONDLY SIR YOU ARE IN MASSIVE TROUBLE

Oh it’s a 2 parter pilot okay

Part 2 here we come

PART 2

“Have I ever let you down before?” “CONSTANTLY!” Lmao iconic

Okay but I’ve got to wonder. The entrance to the superhero hospital is in the regular person hospital. So like? Someone must notice these two boys coming in every day right??? Does no one question that?

Not Kaz using fanfic as a cover for why he’s talking about a superhero as if they’re real. Me too Kaz me too.

Also the twin brothers act like they’re gay for each other and I hate it

Alan is a little bitch send tweet. You’re basically making fun of someone who just became disabled (?). Sir what the fuck

Oh wow you saved her life because she was determined to see that she still had her super strength powers and almost got crushed. Give the man a medal.

Ooo best friend fight

They have photographic memory shit going on?? Damn

WHY WOULD YOU REACH INTO A HOLE IN SOMEONE’S CHEST WITHOUT GLOVES SIR YOU ARE IN A HOSPITAL

“That video has 56 likes!” Is that... an achievement?

IM CRYING WHY DID IT ZOOM IN ON HER FACE LIKE THAT WHEN SHE SAID HER CATCHPHRASE

But also “There’s a storm coming. Skylar Storm.” Has been living in my head rent free for years so thanks I guess.

This was like 2013 how does Paris Berelc still manage to pull off being a teenage girl for Alexa and Katie

KAZ IS SO BAD AT KEEPING MIGHTY MED A SECRET I STG

“It’s just the twins” wow who could have predicted the funny twin shop-owners were actually villains

———

And that’s all for me reacting to one of my favorite shows from my childhood. Wow that was an... ordeal.

[evendeadlmthehero]

The Keepers (2/10) “The Hulk and Arrow”

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Based on after the events of Avengers: Endgame and Spider-Man: FFH

Summary: The Keepers, they call themselves. Little children know them as Santa, The Easter Bunny, Leprechaun, Jack O’ Latern and you. You’re Valentine Cupid; a seducing-angel who’s good with arrows. The Keepers have been a secret for centuries, but when one member goes rogue, this forces The Keepers out of hiding and needing the help of The Avengers.

‘The Keepers’ Masterlist

The quinjet hummed quietly as it neared it’s destination. Bucky had stood in the back, adding knives to his pockets and bullets to his guns. He had hoped that the mission goes smoothly. That Bruce won’t require to Hulk out on anyone, and that he wouldn’t have to shoot anyone. He didn’t want to add to his body count.

Your face however had haunted his mind. He had never seen someone as beautiful as you. Your beauty was not the standard of Hollywood. Your beauty was so unique that it had its own standard. One that went above and beyond Hollywood.

“Okay, it’s 1 minute to land. We’re landing on the old Avengers building in New York,” Sam spoke, grabbing the shield from the ground. “We got clearance from the new owner. Lets make sure this goes smoothly guys, no casualties. It’s in, out and then questioning these guys. You know your missions. You know your assigned targets. Don’t underestimate them. We do not know them and they can be a threat. Make sure you watch each other’s sixes.”

The Avengers nodded, standing up to ready themselves. Sam then looked at Bruce who was standing in the back beside Wanda. “Bruce remember, when I give you the signal, that’s when you come in. You will only be called if things go south and the targets won’t cooperate.”

“Well hopefully it won’t come down to that-“ Bruce had spoken, but stopped when he looked outside when the view of New York had come into view. There was a great snow storm covering the city. Snowflakes fell profusely, which were carried by what looked like a tornado. 

There was also flashes of fire near the ground but Bucky couldn’t see where the source was. Snow mist was everywhere, blocking his vision. He couldn’t see anything at all but ice and fire.

Sam quickly ran over to the pilot seat, switching the flight mode from automatic to manual. Bruce also walked over, taking the co-pilot seat that had a bigger chair due to his hulkiness-size. Both men tried to manuver the quinjet away from the tornado. “New plan, we’re going to land on the bridge!”

Mist had clouded his vision and he was unable to see anything. He was flying in blind. Bucky walked over to the windows, looking down at the city. His face had morphed into shock when he saw the same old man controlling both the tornado and snow. He then fell back when he saw something flying in full speed passed the quinjet.

“What the fuck.”

5 hours earlier

We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Good tidings we bring, to you and your kin. Good tidings for Christmas and a happy new year.

You sipped your coffee, a blanket wrapped around you as you listened to the radio. It was the day before Christmas, the first Holiday since the disappearance of Jacko. Your hair was a tangled mess, bags under your eye. Yes, Jacko was still missing and you had yet to recover.

You wore your Christmas sweater, black leggings and snowmen socks. You were desperate to keep the Holiday alive, despite everyone being in a gloomy mood. You hadn’t had a proper nights rest since the 31st of October and you haven’t been out since then.

Truth is, none of you have been out since that night. Nicholas Santa and Osterhase had both went out in search for Jacko and Saint had stayed with you. If Nick and Osterhase were to go missing, at least you and Saint would be safe to remain has Keepers.

But they came back, to your luck. However they were the bearers of bad news when they had announced the official disappearance of Jacko. He was gone, he really was. And there was nothing that you could do but wait.

“Maybe he ran away,” Osterhase spoke, when he and Nicholas came back from their search. You sat down on the couch, tears streaming down your face as Saint rubbed your back. Nicholas looked away in sorrow, feeling guilty that he couldn’t find Jacko. “Maybe he wasn’t ready to be a Keeper.”

“The guy is almost 200 years old, Osterhase!” You yelled back, wiping your tears away furiously whilst getting up. Saint got up with you as well, trying to hold you back from doing something irrational. “What would he go back to? Everyone he knows is now dead! If anyone was not ready for the Keepers, it’s me! I had a fiancé, a family, and you took that away from me! You all did! And they’re still out there, thinking that I’m dead, yet I’m still here!”

Your thoughts vanish from your head as Nicholas walked into the room, donning a red shirt. When he armoured up, that’s when his infamous red suit with white fur outlines came to light.

When you first became a Keeper, you always wondered how Nicholas gave presents without Adults getting suspicious about there being random gifts scattered under a tree that they never bought. Then you found out that Nicholas implanted false memories into their mind, one of them buying the gifts for their children. The fact that he also had the power of invisibility also enabled him to remain anonymous.

“Good morning,” he muttered to you, buttoning up his coat. You gave him a little nod, taking a sip from your coffee. You watched him getting dressed, a feeling of sickness coming over you. You and Santa were not as close as you were to the other members, but you were still worried about him.

“I’m coming with you,” your voice just above a whisper. It was hoarse, due to the nights you spent crying. Nicholas knew this, as he heard your cries during the early hours. He stopped buttoning his shirt when he heard your voice.

“Coming where?”

“Tomorrow,” you finished, putting your mug down on the coffee table. “For Christmas.”

Nicholas scoffed, shaking his head at you. He scratched his beard before his blue eyes made its way towards you. “I’m centuries old, I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t care how strong you think you are Nicholas,” you replied back, getting up from your seat. “I am coming whether you like it or not.”

You crossed your arms, standing in front of him in determination. By the looks of it, Nicholas knew you weren’t backing down. And by the slight tint of pink on the tip of your ears, he knew that meant you wanted to cry. He let out a sigh, continuing to button his shirt up.

“How about you and I go to that little cafe in the City you always tell Osterhase about, yeah?” Nicholas spoke, before walking over to the door, his hand on the handle. He stopped when he saw you weren’t following him. “Are you coming or not?”

You stared at him, before nodding slowly. “Let me just get dressed.”

•

People murmured around you as both you and Nicholas were sitting in the cafe. Nicholas was sipping some lemon tea whilst you settled for a red velvet cake. It was quiet between you two, a sense of gloom settling in. Both of you felt like you failed as a Keeper. Like if you couldn’t save your own family, how did you guys expect to save the world?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Nicholas spoke, blowing over his tea to cool it down. You looked at him in confusion as he took a sip. “You talk in your sleep every night since Jacko went missing. You want the Keepers to go public. But you have to realise, that we can’t.”

“And why so?” You told him, taking a bite off your cake. Nicholas was about to speak before a waiter walked up to the table, placing a Nutella crossiant on the table. You looked at it confusedly, before facing the handsome waiter. “Sorry, we did not order this.”

“Don’t worry, it’s on the house,” he replied back, giving you a wink. He walked away, leaving you and Nicholas alone. Nicholas looked at you with an annoyed looked. You shrugged at him. It’s not like you had control over your seductive abilities.

“Anyway, back to what I was saying, we simply can’t,” Nicholas spoke, placing his cup down. You looked outside the window, seeing the sky slowly darken, despite it being only 12pm. Your attention went back to Nicholas as he kept speaking. “The Keepers work better when they’re hidden from the public’s knowledge, from the Universe’s knowledge.”

“You did nothing,” you interrupted him, pushing the plate away from you. “You guys did nothing for New York, nothing for Sokovia when I said we should go and fight and nothing when Thanos had obliterated half of the universe. But no, that doesn’t matter. Because none of The Keepers vanished. Because we’re dead already, right? None of us turned into ash so we didn’t need to fight a battle that didn’t affect us. But what exactly do we do, huh? The Keepers are meant to save the world yet we deflect the biggest battles on Earth to who? The Avengers?”

“Valentine, you know we can’t fight publically and the Avengers had it handled anyway if I sensed for a second that they didn’t then I would’ve gathered the Keepers. We fight when there’s no one else left to fight. Like in London-“

“Who says we can’t be public?” You spoke back, trying to get the truth out of him. He rubbed his chin in anger before letting out a sigh. “Jacko told me The Keeper’s were once living amongst humans, fighting with them, not away from them. We can make a stand Nicholas. We can help find Jacko without being tied down to our anonymity, we can get rid of The Avengers who fight for glory and install a new band of heroes who-“

“Last time we were public, all of the Keepers got killed!” Nicholas whispered-yelled at you, slamming his fist in the table. You went quiet at the revelation, leaning back to your seat. He then sighed, a look of sorrow pooling his eyes. “Long ago, dark elves ruled earth. Without any opposition, without any question. I used to give gifts to little children to make their days just a bit better. My sister, Saint Patricia used try to make people believe that certain things had luck within them, you know, like white doves, four leaf clovers. Just random objects, and she would tell people they had luck within them just to give them something to believe in. And they did believe.”

“My uncle, Jackson Latern, used to play pranks, you know,” He smiled fondly to himself. This had also cause a smile to break out on your face. “And gave us treats. Lots of them. Drived my mother mad. It also didn’t help that his brother, my Uncle Osterhase, who had protruding teeth, give us chocolate as well. My bestfriend, yes my best friend. Valentino Cupid. A ladies man. Every girl, and man, was in love with him. He was also very caring and loved everyone. Even our annoying neighbour who used to steal our toys.”

“The celestials gave us powers in order to help regain Earth from the Dark elves, only if we keep doing what we do. Me giving presents, Valentino spreading love and so forth. We were heroes of the public, until one day,” Nicholas spoke, shaking his head at the memory. “Their leader grabs this red stone, the reality stone, and kills everyone. Everyone but me.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

“You see Valentine, that’s why we do things undercover. We die slowly, in a timely death. Not all at once with one person remaining to gather the rest of the Keepers and train them all by himself whilst trying to deal with the grief that his friends, his family, is now gone. The Cupid before you died, but at least us remaining four had each other,” He replied back.

“Nicholas, you know there will come a day where we’d have to go public, right?” You spoke to him, grabbing his hand. Nicholas looked away, letting out a scoff. “It could be today, tomorrow or centuries after we’re all gone. But there will come-“

You stopped, retracting your hand from Nicholas. You stood up, which got the attention of everyone in the room as you did it so abruptly. Nicholas looked up to you, his faced morphed with confusion as he looked at your concentrated face. “What is it Valentine?”

“Hate,” you spoke, a slight tremble in your voice. Hairs on your skin stood up as every thing around you slowed down. Voices, people and the whole atmosphere had slowed down.

Within a millisecond, you had ran towards a little girl sitting near the window. In that millisecond, your wings has sprouted from your back and your armour had replaced your clothing. Strands of your hair begun to braid itself but before it could finish you jumped, your eyes watching the bomb slowly crash through the window.

You grabbed the bomb that had previously wanted to land near the girl, and placed it underneath the armour that covered your stomach. The final strand had finally braided itself when the bomb went off from under you and your wings that created a barrier between you with the bomb and everyone else in the restaurant.

Everyone gasped as they saw you, a women who grew wings on her back. Many had grabbed their phones, taking photos. You got up, looking at Nicholas. He had looked shocked at both the bomb and your appearance. You looked at him, slowly backing away as you felt the presence of more hate, more bombs and more enemies surging towards you. “I guess today is that day.”

You then took off, your fists clenched beside you as you flew. Your wings pointed downwards as you reached speeds of 600 miles per hour. You were fast, but you could go faster if you wanted. You saw aircrafts, many small aircrafts, flying towards New York. You slowed down, grabbing an arrow from behind your back.

You had three different coloured arrows; pink, green and black. Pink was for love, green was to spread hate and envy and black were the ones you used to fight. They were essentially photon explosives. You aimed at one of the aircrafts whilst flying in great precision, causing the aircraft to explode before coming down.

This happened for over twenty minutes before you landed on top of the old Avengers building, looking at the more hundred and thousands of aircrafts that were coming out of nowhere. You couldn’t do it all by yourself. There were too many.

You looked down, seeing civilians scramble around and running in chaos. There were screams and police were trying to round up everyone and get them away from the centre of the city.

You breathed in heavily, trying to regain your breath. You let out a sigh, your face morphing into determination. You had to save these people. You had to prove to Nicholas that you can go public. Your were about to jump off the building and fly before a burrow formed two meters away from you. Specifically, it was Osterhase burrow that allowed him to transport places.

The burrow got big enough until three individuals popped out; Osterhase himself, Saint and Nicholas. You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “If you’re going to stop me from fighting guys, it isn’t going to work.”

“Oh no, we aren’t,” Osterhase spoke, drawing out his swords from behind his before giving you a grin. “We’re here to fight with you.”

You looked at Nicholas unsurely, not believing what you were hearing. He nodded at you, making you smile. “I still don’t agree, but it’s kind of too late anyway since you grew your wings in front of everyone which will probably be trending on twitter.”

You shook your head at him, giving him a grateful nod. You then looked back into the city, seeing weird creatures terrorising civilians. They were small, stodgy and had fangs for teeth. You had never seen anything like this. You then looked at your teammates you looked as equally as horrified as you. “Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll cover the sky. Any aircrafts have to go through me. Osterhase, you cover the ground with Saint. Osterhase if you see a pedestrian, use your burrow to get them the hell out of here. Nicholas, create the biggest damn snow storm you’ve ever seen. Hopefully that will throw them off course.”

“Got it blondey,” Saint Patrick spoke, getting out his golden encased staff, his green armour now in full show. Osterhase then formed a burrow, before he and Saint disappeared from sight. You then looked at Nicholas with a smirk.

“This is just like London all over again,” you spoke, as you started running towards the edge of the building. Nicholas also started running towards the edge of the building.

“You and I remember London very differently,” he yelled back as you both jumped. You hurled towards the ground, feeling the wind against your face. You felt the cool chill blast as Nicholas formed a snow tornado around him. You then sprung your wings out flying back up towards the numerous aircrafts.

One in particular being the Quinjet.

•

“There’s just too many,” you heard Osterhase speak as you flew back onto the ground. Osterhase, Nicholas and Saint stood in a circle as you guys regrouped after an hour of fighting. “It’s like you kill one, and then the whole family comes to visit for the funeral. It’s been an hour and we’ve yet to make progress.”

“Osterhase is right,” Saint spoke, his hand on his hips. There was dirt in his face and a cut on his lip. You pulled a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you looked around at all the ruins. “We need to find the one source that powers them. They must have a leader or something.”

“Yeah,” Osterhase replied back, his fur now matted with sweat. “We have to find the core of this thing or else we’re screwed.”

“Then let’s find the core-“ you spoke before you stopped speaking. You looked at a figure that stood still behind Osterhase. A familiar figure. But he had looked different to what you had remembered. “Is that-“

You couldn’t complete your sentence, because you couldn’t believe it. Nicholas looked at where you were staring, his face morphing into disbelief. “Jacko?”

You smiled, your eyes tearing up in happiness. Your feet begun making there way over to him. It started off as a slow jog before going into an all-blown-our sprint.

“Valentine wait!” You heard Nicholas yell from behind you, but you didn’t care. Jacko was here, and you were filled with happiness, hope and relief. You continued running towards him, but he had made no move towards you. You then saw him draw his arm back, a flame igniting in his hand.

You stopped, confused at what he was doing. He then looked at you with a dark look, resulting in a chill going down your spine. You let out a breath as Jacko hurled a ball toward you. You felt heat coming towards you before Nicholas had fused it out with his own ball of ice.

You looked at Jacko, gulping as you took a step towards him. He tilted his head to the side, watching you closely. “Hey, it’s me, it’s Valentine.”

“Valentine, get out of the fucking way now! It’s not fucking him!”

“It’s me, okay,” you ignored the pleads from the rest of The Keepers as you got closer to Jacko. You then whispered the next words, careful to make sure the other Keepers didn’t hear. If they knew what Jacko had revealed personal information to you, it would result to the permanent banishment of his title, resulting in his ultimate death. You didn’t want the others to know what Jacko had revealed to you about his past.

“Your name is Louis the Secound, son of King Louis the first. He wanted you to be the heir to the throne. But you fell in love, remember? And you bought a farm, and you raised two beautiful children,” you spoke, your bottom lip trembling as you shakingly reached out to his face. He leaned to the side a bit, trying to delve into the palm of your hand. “You were the first person to talk to me about the past, knowing the repercussions it may bring if others found out. But you still did it. Louis, please, come back to me. Come back from whatever spell a wicked being has casted upon you.”

He looked up at you, his eyes flickering with fire every now and then. You smiled at him, seeing that you may have sparked some recognition in the man’s head. But you were wrong. He quickly weilded a flame in his arm, going in for the strike before you felt the ground below you consume you. You then let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in as Osterhase created a burrow from Jacko to next to him.

“W-what do we do?” You asked the Keepers. You were heartbroken and gutted. Your plan had failed and it seemed like emotional memories wasn’t going to aid you in getting your friend back. “He’s not- he’s not himself. We can’t just leave him, we have to do something.”

“Let’s knock him out and bring him back home, simple,” Osterhase stated before he started sprinting towards Jacko. Saint looked at you and nodded, before following Osterhase with his golden staff.

You felt a hand grab onto your arm. You looked at the source, seeing that it was Nicholas. He gave you a sad smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll get him back. He’s strong, that fucking bastard.”

He then created a snow storm, flying across towards Jacko who was currently fighting both Saint and Osterhase with fire. You let out a little sigh, before you sprouted your wings from your back and flew towards the fight.

Instead of using your black arrows, you opted for the pink ones. Maybe it will bring some sense of love and remove the hate that has poisoned his veins. You flew into the burrow that Osterhase created and came out the other side near Jacko, shooting an arrow successively onto Jacko’s arm. Jacko let out a blood-curling growl, before shooting a flame towards you. Before it could reach you, Saint had re-directed the flame away from you with his staff.

“You’re going easy on him,” Saint grumbled at you before running back towards the fight. You rolled your eyes at him, flying back again near Jacko. Osterhase used his swords, cutting the flames that kept rolling in towards him. Nicholas cooled down the flames that came towards the rabbit with his freezing abilities.

“Hey guys, just like we practised?” You asked your fellow Keepers that were still sane. Saint smirked at you, before positioning his staff. You ran towards his staff, before he used it to fling you across to Jacko. As Jacko was distracted by you and the arrow you were pointing at him, Osterhase created a burrow for Saint who was sucked into the ground and spurted right out near Jacko. He used his staff and wacked Jacko in the head before using the end part of the staff to knock the air out of his lungs.

As Jacko was hunched over, Nicholas used his freezing abilities to freeze his upper and lower limbs into the floor. You landed on the floor before walking over to Jacko. You then stopped, watching as Jacko kept letting out chilling screams and growls, one that was animalistic.

However, before you could do anything, tanks rolled out from behind you. It was the U.S. Army. The tanks had their weapons pointed towards all of you. They came out from behind building, a mechanical road deafening the entire city.

There was 20 tanks pointing their weapons at all of you. You then heard helicopters, looking up to see four. Ropes fell down from them and men and women in army clothing slid down the rope before rolling on the floor and pointing their machine gun at all of you.

“Freeze. This is the U.S Army. Drop all of your weapons and remain still. If you do not cooperate, we will use force.” You heard someone demand from the speakers. Wind blew against your face as you watched more tanks, more helicopters and more soldiers coming into the City.

Another plane, one that was bigger, had landed in the middle of the street, it’s force taking you a step back. This time it was shield agents, donning a black suit and even bigger guns.

You looked back to where Jacko was, only to see he was gone. You looked at the remaining Keepers, there faces in shock as well. He was just there, how would he have left, you had thought. It was a mystery that you had yet to solve. How easy it was for Jacko to disappear without a trace.

A man came flying down with his mechanical wings, a gun pointed towards all of you. He was followed by a man with a metal arm, a women wearing red clothing and Spider-Man. The other Keepers had de-armoured themselves and you were about to as well until another figure emerged from the shadows.

It was him. It was The Hulk, or as he liked to go as now, ‘Professor Hulk’. It didn’t matter to you. He had killed you and taken away your life. You could’ve been 36 years old today, married with your partner with children. But no, you were dead and stuck at the ripe age of 25.

“Bruce, what are you doing here, we said emergency only,” The dark-skinned man spoke to the giant as his eyes were still on you four.

“I saw tanks and I thought it was an emergency,” he replied back, before facing the rest of the keepers who had there hands up and de-amoured. All of them, but you.

You felt your blood boiling, staring maliciously at the Hulk. You grabbed the black arrow and pointed it towards him.

“Woah, woah, woah,” The Keepers and The Avengers had spoke to you at the same time. You felt everyone’s gun click as they all faced you. Bucky watched studied you intently, wondering why there was so much hate filling your face at the presence of Bruce. He saw as your whole arm was trembling as well as your bottom lip. You were struggling and Bucky could tell.

“Valentine, put the arrow down,” Nicholas had hissed at you. You glared down at the Hulk who seemed taken back, wondering why he was singled out. “Put it down now before you do something stupid.”

Your breath was shaky as you continued to stare down Bruce. All the guns and tanks were pointed towards you. You could kill him right now and end your life in return. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t let the reason for your second death be because of the same person. So you let out a little huff, trembling as you put down the arrow, de-armouring.

At your surrendered, the Avengers and Army ran towards you, arresting the lot of you. Bucky had walked towards you as you finally made eye contact with him. He gave you a slight hesitated look, as if he was afraid of your presence. You let out a scoff before bring your wrists towards him, letting him cuff you.

Bucky was trying really hard to ignore the attraction and pull he felt towards you. It felt like he was on drugs the moment he had touched the soft surface of your skin. It took him a while before he was able to cuff you. He then guided you towards the quinjet, a tingling feeling surrounding his body as your dorsal area was in close proximity to his anterior area.

As he was guiding you, you made eye contact with the Hulk. You glared at him with all the hatred you could muster. The beast who had used his anger to murder you. To ruin your life. You could never hate anyone, you were the goddess of love. You were a Cupid, a Keeper.

But you hated him.

Taglist (comment below if you want to be tagged because I forgot to add some people)

@xxpapasfritasxx

@evanstush

@willowtree42095

@wh1te-tsh1rt

@gracfulpenguin

@thenormreedus

@jeonjungtokki

@lokixme

@paullrud

@wendaiii

@lost-moon-child96

@fangeekkk

@vgiselle

@just-a-littlebit-of-everything

@marvel-ousnesss

@winnielinleigh

@all-I-need-is-marvel-and-coffee

@psychoticobsession

@ilovemysupersoldiers

@love-devvie

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@theprettynerd

@leasly

@chook007

@jessyballet

@grace-writes-shit

@yeahhemmings-

@jumpxjess

@myfriendstexts

@aspiring-fangirls-world

[coll2mitts]

Super Mario Bros. (1993)

Thanks to the awesome people who donated to Extra Life (you still can, btw!)  y'all will now be treated to a retrospective on the 1993 classic movie, Super Mario Bros.  When I took on this milestone, the first (and only) person I messaged for ideas on terrible (but wonderful) films based on video games was my friend Max, who has a history of viewing and talking about bad movies.  He suggested this, and while I was aware of this magnificent piece of cinema history, I had not had the pleasure of viewing it myself.  He hooked me up with a copy, and to say this film lived up to my expectations would be an understatement.

I couldn’t help but be charmed by this movie.  It is filled with so many questionable creative choices that were fucking ridiculous.  Mario and Luigi not being blood related?  Sure.  Cheesy Italian accents replaced with a New York ones?  Yeah, why not?  Having all the enemies in Super Mario Bros. be canonically dinosaurs?  I mean... It's a choice informed by the great media dino wave of 1993, but whatever.  Yoshi is a dinosaur, if we want to extend that to goombas and Koopa for whatever reason, I'm down.  Having these dinosaurs live underneath New York City in a parallel dimension?  It's based on a video game, why the fuck not?  Everything is so goddamn bonkers.

The opening credits roll, and we’re told that 65 million years ago, a meteor created said underground parallel universe dinosaur land.  We witness a human-looking woman, who is really a dinosaur, leaving an egg baby on a church doorstep.  Don’t think about it too hard, the logistics of a human giving birth to an egg that size are just... it’s gross to think about.

We’re then introduced to the titular characters, Mario Mario and Luigi Mario.  Yes, their last names are Mario.  Making them the Mario brothers.  Because this movie is interested in answering the important questions.  Mario is the owner of a failing plumbing business, while Luigi is a conspiracy theorist who would have really enjoyed modern-day YouTube.

While they’re out trying to find work, they run into Miss Amy March herself, Daisy, who is an archeologist in charge of digging up dinosaur bones from a New York City construction site.  She’s being forced off the property by the mob, who apparently are annoyed that a blonde lady in cargo shorts is coming between them and whatever the fuck they’re building.  

They try and intimidate her, she storms off to use a payphone to call for security, and is almost picked up by two inconspicuous bozos in a cab who apparently are stealing Brooklyn women off the street for no reason.  Their plan is quickly thwarted by a random moving pane of glass.

Instead, Daisy runs right into Luigi, who forgets how to human once he sees her pretty face.  He asks her on a date, where she reveals even more exposition.  She believes the meteor that destroyed the dinosaurs landed in New York City.  Oh, and also, she’s the abandoned egg baby.  Luigi is also an orphan, and this shared trauma apparently gets them both hot and bothered.  They wander off to the dig site, because an underground pit attached to a sewer is so romantic, and it is also where Daisy feels the most comfortable.

What if we made out at the bone pit?

Their touching moment is cut short when the mob sabotages the plumbing in the sewer and water starts flooding the area.  They run to get Mario, because he is a plumber, to fix the pipes, which is so fucking clutch, I love it so much.

While the Mario brothers are distracted, Daisy is captured by the weirdo twins and dragged into the alternate dinosaur universe.  Mario and Luigi follow, and we’re treated to the most fucking amazing transition scene of Bob Hoskins spinning wildly through colorful rocks.

Turns out, parallel dinosaur world, or Dinohattan, is fucking lit as hell.  I am convinced that Futurama based their sewer city on this movie.

King Koopa, who is a dinosaur with badly bleached hair gelled back in an effort to look like Michael Douglas in Wall Street, has taken over Dinohattan.  He is the one who asked the goons to kidnap Daisy, because of the tacky crystal necklace she wears.  Apparently, it is a piece of the meteorite that crashed into earth, and once he puts the piece back into the original space rock, the dinosaur world will merge with the mammal world after 65 million years of his people being sequestered underground, and Koopa will have endless resources at his disposal.  Also, Daisy is a princess, and her dad is a giant fungus taking over the city, so that’s totally normal and not at all weird.

Problem is, the two idiots he sent to grab her didn’t think to check if she was wearing the necklace.  Turns out, Luigi has the necklace, or had the necklace, as they are quickly mugged by a granny, who is then robbed by a lady with a bright red spiky latex coat and springy robot feet.  The brothers are then arrested by the dinocops and are grilled by Koopa for the whereabouts of the rock.  When they play dumb he uh... reacts in a proportionate way.

I am not even going to attempt to explain the devo process...  It is a combination of insane and fucking disgusting.  Whoever in the costuming department looked at the cute fucking mushroom Goombas in the video game and decided to translate them into this scaly, jagged-teethed nightmare fuel deserves to be committed.

Also, there’s only one lizard king, and that’s Jim Morrison, so back off, buddy.

What is hilarious to me is this is the story the screenwriters came up with.  Super Mario, as a video game, doesn’t have much lore, right?  You slide down pipes, you jump on mushrooms, and you save the princess from a spiky turtle.  They took that game and created... This.  A parallel underground dinosaur universe that has a sentient fungus as a king, taken over by a human-like t-rex that devolves other lizards into tiny-headed night paralysis demons.

The middle of this movie alternates between a slog of expositional scenes about Daisy being a princess, and pretty entertaining action scenes of the Mario brothers running from Goombas while trying to find and save Daisy.  Mario and Luigi steal a cop car and drive it off a cliff Thelma and Louise-style; They cosplay as Ketchup and Mustard to steal the necklace back from Big Burtha while asking her to stomp on them; They jump off a bridge into a garbage truck; They break the pipes in Koopa’s building to freeze everything, and get past an elevator full of Goombas by making them dance.

Watching Daisy damsel-in-distress-it in Koopa’s high rise office building and fend off advances by a long-tongued dude who devolved her father into a mushroom was pretty boring and disturbing.  Alternatively, witnessing Bob Hoskins and John Leguizamo pretend to jump on giant sheets of fungus really sold this movie for me.  It succeeds when it tries to be ridiculous and fun, and fall flat when it attempts to integrate any sort of drama that I’m assuming was added to make this story more appealing to adults.

Mario and Luigi eventually find Daisy, and she introduces them to her father - a giant dripping blob suspended from the ceiling.  Luigi wants in her pants badly enough that he pretends this is a reasonable thing to do.  Mario heads further into the building to free the other ladies kidnapped by tweedle dee and tweedle dum that they initially thought were Daisy, but weren’t.  The newly assembled group are able to escape by sliding down the frozen pipes on a mattress before they are green-screen launched out of the pipe and back into the greater Dinohattan area.

The amount of times Mario and Luigi use their plumbing skills to overcome obstacles may be my favorite part of this movie.  The plot goes out of its way to justify a really bizarre character trait for the original game.

Anyway, the end of this movie comes at you fast.  First, the sentient fungus king gives Mario and Luigi a bomb, and they decide to wind it up and aim it at Koopa.  This takes about 10 minutes of screen time to matter again.

Koopa’s second-in-command tries to merge Daisy’s stolen necklace with the meteor, and instead gets skeletoned to bits, prompting the best line delivery reaction from Daisy, a deadpan “Yikes”.

Because the necklace has now been returned to its resting place, the worlds start to merge Infinity War style.

“Mr. Koopa, I don’t feel so good.”

Koopa and Mario end up back in Manhattan, and Koopa just starts shooting his devo guns at human mobsters, turning them back into primates, and giving their wardrobe a whole new literal definition of monkey suit.

Luigi uses his super plumbing powers to drill the necklace back out of the meteor, separating the worlds again.  The bomb finally goes off, they devo Koopa into slime, and the citizens celebrate by immediately painting over his ever-prevalent propaganda.

The king evolves back into a mushroom person or something, and Daisy stays in Dinohattan to get to know her father better.  Mario and Luigi return to their lives in Brooklyn as plumbers, and their heroic acts make them conspiracy community famous, as they now refer to our heroes as the Super Mario Brothers.  Roll Credits.

Except not, because Daisy returns to ask for the help of a couple of great plumbers, setting up a sequel that will never, ever happen because there is no god and we’re not allowed to feel joy.

Honestly, Super Mario Bros. is great.  It owned every bold plot and visual choice it made, and I have to respect it.  I could listen to John Leguizamo say Mario like 700 more times.  Y’all are missing out if you think you’re too cool to watch this movie.

I’ll be back to musical reviews later this month.  I have a few seasonally appropriate movies in my big red sack waiting to be placed under the tree...  Yes, I meant to phrase it that way.

[twinklebitch]

As an RA, we get lots of random things in lost and found, and for the last 6+ months, we’ve had a pair of airpods (without the charging case) that no one has come to claim. (Side note: my friend put them in her own charger, so we could get a possible name for who they belonged to, but they were literally just named “gay.” We also messaged our resident group chats to let them know that we found some headphones - I want to make it clear that we did try to find the owner).

Now, I’ve never owned airpods before because I don’t want to spend that kind of money on headphones. And there happens to be a sort of unspoken policy in the office that if at least a semester has gone by with no one claiming the item they lost, it’s fair game, and then whatever else - depending on what it is - is thrown out or donated. I had the thought that maybe its possible to buy a charging case without the airpods in it - and yes, its possible. For only $40 as opposed to the $100+ that airpods cost.

Now I didn’t want to just take the headphones - our lost and found is actually just the corner of the RA desk that literally anyone can see in passing, so someone would notice they were gone. Which meant I had to ask my boss.

He’s a very chill man, but I still wanted to play it cool, so i casually asked “how long can something stay in lost and found before its.. fair game?”

he looked confused and mildly offended as he said, “What?”

I thought I fucked up, but I still persisted. “You know,” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “..fair game? like is it a year, or..?”

He immediately zeroed in on our Lost and Found Corner and said, “You want the airpods.”

I had been made, so I meekly nodded. I figured at this point that I would not only not get the headphones, but might also get in trouble.

To my surprise he gave me the green light, told me to go ahead and snag them, and then said he would pretend he never had this conversation with me.

I bought a charging case like five minutes later.

Then today, I got a text from him. He texts in that gen x way where everything comes off as vaguely ominous or displeased, so when he asked if I had bought a charging case, i thought my bad luck had come to bite me, and the actual owner had come looking half a year after the damn things were lost, and I was about to find out I spent $40 for nothing.

Once again I was surprised. My boss, the second chillest RA boss I’ve ever had (so I really shouldn’t have been worried) simply said, “They are definitely yours. As far as I know, “they were yours all along, you just left them in the office and forgot about them” Don’t forget that factory reset.”

Anyway, should I get him a #1 boss mug?

[jj-lynn21]

Cozy Cove: Old wounds

Previous in Cozy Cove: Saved by an Angel ,   A side of tits with your pancakes,   Fires Burn Ho , Spending the Nights, Learning and Loving,   The end id not always the end,  Axel Grease ,  Big Decisions, Sex and Jet Skis, Late night fun ,  Old Wounds , Storms pass, Dangerous Waters

Warnings: smut talk, very angsty, talk of a parent leaving children, fear of alcohol abuse. 

A silver of afternoon bright sunshine snakes its way through where the blackout curtains come together. It beamed right on to still sleeping Axel and Susie. She further buries her face in Axel’s chest.

He snorts covering his eyes with his free hand. The other resting on her back, “Close the curtain, baby girl.”

Susie whines without moving.

“I got it Mr. Axel,” Carol whispered. “Rest as long as you need, I will clean quietly.”

“Thanks, Carol,” Axel mumbled. “Put coffee on?”

“Of course, Sir,” She picked up some cloths on the floor and put them in his dirty cloths basket to go do laundry. 

A half hour later, the couple woke slowly to the smell of coffee. Susie stretched rolling to her other side. Axel kissed her shoulder softly before getting up, grabbing some cloths and heading to the shower. The hot water felt amazing as he stood there with his head down, palms flat against the wall, as the water beats over him.  

The door slides open for Susie to get in with him. She wraps her arms around him and lays on his back. Axel stands. He turns towards her smiling down as droplets of water tumble off his hair, down his nose to the tip of hers.

“How are you doing this morning Babe?” He grabs a shampoo bottle squirting some in his palm. “Turn around.” He starts to wash her hair.  

Susie turned closing her eyes as she leaned her head back a bit for Axel to wash her hair. “I’m a little sort, Daddy.” She muttered.  

Axel grinned, “Not when anyone is in the house Babe. That little game is between you and me. Would you like to have an interview for that mechanics job you want? We can make it like a game.” He rinses her hair and adds conditioner combing it out gentle.

“Yes, I would love that.” She smiles wide keeping her eyes shut as Axel rinses her hair. “Only I don’t think of that as a game, Axel. An interview with any company is to be taken seriously.”

“Maybe you are always to Serious Susie Q, but I guess I will find that out in a few hours.” He washes every part of her.

Susie giggles, “I am perfectly capable of washing myself, Axel.”

“I know,” he smiled. “I just like to take care of you if it is alright?”

“I guess it’s fine,” She turned as he rinsed her with the handheld shower head.  

“Now go get a nice sundress on,” He opened the back of the shower door. “I believe Carol has coffee, donuts, and fruit for us to have for breakfast. She always has good treats when she comes to clean.”  

He stays in the shower to wash when she gets out. She does what he tells her without a second thought. Her only thoughts were how nice it felt for him to get her clean and of course, coffee. When Susie ventures out to the kitchen she saw to coffee mugs, a basket of fruit and box. On further inspection she looks in the clear window at the top of the box to see a myriad of donut holes in a variety of flavors.  

Carol rushes over to pour her some coffee, “Good morning Miss. Do you like the flavored creamer that is in the refrigerator?”

“Thank you, Carol,” She smiles. “I would like the creamer. You can call me Susie.”

“Sure thing, Miss Susie.” She gets the creamer and pours it until Susie holds her hand up to stop.  

Axel Comes out in Camo board shorts drying his hair with a towel. As soon as Carol sees him, she pours his coffee, adds a little sugar to it before starting back to straighten up the bedroom.

“Thank you, Carol,” Axel yells after her. “We will be out of your hair for a few hours after breakfast.”

“You are welcome Mr. Axel,” She rambled, “You need to eat more. You are to thin.”

“If you say so Carol.” Axel laughed, “Carol has been the family housekeeper as long as I can remember. She also took care of me and my brother Josh when my mom,” He looked down fidgeting with his fingers before taking a sip of coffee. “When she left us.” He popped a sprinkle covered donut hole in his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Axel.” Susie took his hand from across the table. “Can I ask what happened? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

Axel shrugged, “I was about thirteen and saw how my Mom was kind of flirty with guys other than my Dad. It was disgusting. I think her leaving was the best thing that ever happened to him. But he was pretty pissed when I told him that.  

“Josh was only eight. He cried a lot for a few weeks as far I remember. He needed a Mother. Carol tried her best to fill the void. Eric was trying to get a degree in something when she left. I can’t remember what. I just remember he came home on break and never went back. Dad was disappointed. I was happy. My mom couldn’t embarrass me when she hit on my teachers.” He popped another donut hole.

Susie ate a strawberry cream filled and sipped her coffee not sure what to say. Her parents never seemed to notice anyone else but each other. And they could sometimes be amorous in public which was embarrassing for her. It was embarrassing for her now. It was ten times worse when she was thirteen. But She didn’t think it was nearly as embarrassing as Axel’s situation.

“How about we take a walk on the beach,” He sighed. “The ocean air always clears my head in the morning. Then I’ll take you to the garage to do that interview. I don’t think you are dressed correctly for an interview, but I’ll let that slide since I told you what to wear and you look fine as Hell.”

“I guess it pays to know the owner,” She giggled. “If you give me the mechanics job,” She picked up another donut hole licking the glaze off before slowing sucking it into your mouth to eat. “I’ll give you another kind of job.”

“Hell no,” Axel got up. “That would be sexual harassment Miss. We don’t play with rules laid out against such things at my garage. That is the worst interview tactic you can have in this day and age, Susie Q. I hope that isn’t your usual interview technique.”

She blushes, “No, of course not Axel. I was just kind of joking.”

“I take my business serious,” He leans down to her ear. “Also fuck jobs. So, one does not mix with the other. Unless my girlfriend wants to suck my cock during my break.” He grins. “Let’s go.”  

They walk out down the back stairs to the beach. The sun is blazing. The farther they walk the more sun bathers and families liter the beach with their towels, blankets, chairs and umbrellas. Axel and Susie ignore it all as they walk together silently for a while.  

“Axel,” Susie keeps walking with him as they talk.

“Yeah?” He picks her hand up to kiss it gentle. Some waves splash over their feet.

“I’m sorry your Mother left you when you needed her.” She squeaked out quietly.

“I never needed shit from her,” Axel grumbled. A small tear escaped his right eye.  “I just feel bad for Josh. Him being upset was worse than her leaving. But we all got over it. No use talking about her anymore, alright?”

“Okay,” Susie leaned on him as he put his arm around her shoulders. “Just know I’ll listen if you ever need too...”

“I won’t, so just drop it,” he growled before taking a deep breath to calm down. “Let’s grab a pineapple rum slushy at the snack house. Then walk back to get the bike. You have an important interview in about an hour.”  

“Your right; I do.” Susie Beamed. “Should I be drinking before my interview?”

“These aren’t very strong,” He gets up to the outdoor counter. “Can we get two spiked pineapple slushies?”

“Sure thing, Axel,” The counter person said. “I am bringing my viper in for a tune up tomorrow. Will you be working?”

“No, I’m off this weekend, Dwayne but Danny is excellent.” Axel praises his worker. “He will have your motorcycle running perfectly when he is done.”

“Cool man, thanks.” Dwayne hands them their drinks.

“Thanks for keeping everyone cool with these drinks,” Axel raises his drink to Dwayne before walking off with Susie.

They walked back on the edge of the even more crowded beach and ocean entrance. They had drunk their slushies by the time they got to his motorcycle.

“I haven’t walked the beach to get a slushy since I was a kid,” Axel smiled. “Of course, in those days I didn’t get the extra kick. Not that this has much of a kick.” He got on his ride. “Let’s go baby girl.”

She crossed her arms and shook her head, “No, I know you said there wasn’t much rum in that, but I could taste it. I’m not sure you should be driving.”  

“Really?” Axel glared. “Just get on the fucking bike. I’m fine. The legal limit here is 08% blood alcohol. According to intoxalock.com it takes about five drinks an hour for someone my weight to reach a .08%. I had a dash of rum. I don’t drink more than one drink of any kind if I am going to drive. I won’t put in us in danger like that.”

She stands there staring at him without budging.

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me.” He gets back off the bike.

“I trust you fine Axel,” She bites her bottom lip nervously. “I just don’t trust the alcohol in your system”

“Yeah, that isn’t a thing.” He grabs her upper arm. “I have no problem taking a fucking breathalyzer test at the Lifeguard stand.

His temper flared as they made their way to the closest Lifeguard tower. “ Hey Roni, you have a minute to prove to my girl one fucking rum slushy doesn’t make me to drunk to drive. She doesn’t fucking trust my word. Sorry wrong words. She doesn’t trust the fucking alcohol.” Axel smirks.

She looks down at Axel and Susie. He looks pissed. Susie has tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She tries not to let it show how upset she is about the situation.  

“I just...” Susie starts.

“I don’t need to hear anything but a sorry from you, young lady,” Axel chides.

“Um yeah Axel,” Roni hoped down from her tower. “But give the girl a break, would you.”

Axel glared, “test, please.”

She gets the test out of her bag, “I think you know how to blow in this.”

Axel nods. “I’m ready.”

Roni puts the breathalyzer between Axel’s lips. Hits a button, “Now, blow, blow, blow, blow, and … your good.” She shows the results to Axel and Susie. “You are at .005. Your fine Axel. Susie, Axel can actually drink a few drinks in an hour and still drive fine. But I know he doesn’t. You want to check yours?”

“Yeah, make sure your judgement isn’t impaired to judge me,” Axel mumbles.

Susie rolls her eyes, “fine, I’ll do it to.”  

“Okay then Susie,” Roni wipes the mouthpiece with an alcohol pad before putting it in Susie's mouth. “blow, blow, blow, blow, and … your good.” She shows the results. “You are .07. Your quite a light weight.” She laughs. “Still you would pass a test. But Axel is driving, right?”

“Yes, I am,” Axel said proudly. “Thank you, Roni. You going to the garage with me still Susie Q.?”  

Axel and Susie start walking away.

“Of course, I am,” Susie assured him. “I still have an important interview, don’t I?”

“Yeah, if you don’t think you drank too much to deal with it?” Axel smirked.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She whined.

Axel got on his motorcycle and revved the engine waiting for her to get on. “I think a little girl that acts like you have today needs punished, but we will discuss that later.”

He speeds off cutting through the late afternoon traffic like it didn’t even exist. Susie held tight around him thinking she would almost fall off as they leaned into a sharp turn nearly touching the ground. He skids into his packing spot In front of the garage.  

Axel sets up the kicks stand before getting off. “Give me five minutes before knocking on my office door.”

“I can do that,” Susie said meekly. She waited as instructed before heading into the garage with a smile plastered on her face. She nodded to the guys fixing a few cars and scrubbing down the place like their life depended on it. She knocked on the office door.

Axel answered the door with a clip board in hand, “Good afternoon Miss,” he looked at the clipboard. “Quinnby. You’re a little late.”

Susie was more nervous than she had ever been in an interview. “I’m sorry, I...”

Axel put his hand up to stop her as he sat down. “It says her you have some technical training in auto mechanics. What kinds of vehicles have you worked on?”

“I worked in a group on a few different cars and a truck,” She answered crossing her legs at the ankle. “I know I can learn a lot here.”

“I’m sure you could,” He leaned back clasping his hands behind his head. “Tell me what you like to do for fun?”  

“I read.’ She wasn’t sure why the question was significant, but it had been asked of her before in interviewed. “I have been reading mechanics journals and magazines and learning about water sports.”

“What is the most interesting article you have read?” Axel prodded.

“They are all fascinating,” She fidgeted a little.

“Oh yeah?” He smirked. “What article was the most interesting?”

“I read Popular Mechanics and Rider.” She pauses. “There was a cool article on fuel efficient High Mileage Carburetors. And an older article that talked about a guy who built a carburetor for his sedan which vaporized the fuel and enabled his V8 to get over 100 mpg.”  

Axel nodded and got up, “Thank you Miss Quinnby. I have many applicants to see but I will call you if you get the job here.”

Susie got up as Axel opened the door for her to leave, “Your welcome Mr. Cluney.” She walked out thinking Axel would follow her. He shut the door behind her instead leaving her a little baffled.  

Inside the room Axel’s anger raged as he mumbled to himself. “fucking can’t trust me but wants to hide out here and expects a fucking job...” He punches his fist against the wall a few times. Blood ran from his knuckles. “Can’t fucking believe females. Fucking whores to get what they want. Expect me to just forgive and forget all their treachery.” He banged his head against the wall and screamed. “FUCK I AM MORON FOR TRUSTING ANYONE!”  

When Axel doesn’t come out for a few minutes, she tries to go back in. The door is locked, so she calls out, “Axel?”  

Axel splashes some water on his face. He took a few deep breaths as he walked to the door opening it, “I’m fine. Let’s get you a ticket back home or wherever you want to go but here. Here is not the place for you to hide.”

Susie’s mouth dropped open as Axel brushed past her without a look. She followed him without a sound waiting for a better time to ask him, what the hell he is thinking.  

“Danny, Dwayne is bringing his Viper in tomorrow for a tune up. Buff out any scratches he has on the house.” Axel ordered. “I told him you would do it since you’re my best mechanic when I’m not here.”  

The other guys scoffed at Axel’s remark. Axel glared, “Anyone have an opinion they want to share just step right up.” They all turned back to what they were doing. “Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.” Axel gets on his motorcycle. He waits impatiently for Susie.  

She comes out, “Axel, what’s going on? You are obviously upset.”

“No more fucking public displays.” He revved the motor. “You want to talk you come with me now.”

“But I think you are too upset to drive,” Susie squeaked.

“Of course, you do,” Axel sped off yelling, “You know where I live.”

[the-quiet-winds]

Turn Me Inside Out, Turn Me Upside Down

“All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.”

“Maybe I should take your coffee, then.”

Anna narrows her eyes. “Do it and you lose the hand.”

“Oh?” Aragon raises her eyebrows challengingly. 

“You can’t take this coffee,” Anna says. She takes a long swig of the drink. “If you so much as touch my mug, you’ll regret it.”

A playful light dances across Catherine’s irises. “Like...this?”

Before Anna can react, Catherine’s hand darts across the counter and taps the side of the mug, the click of her nails resonating through the otherwise fairly quiet living space.

Anna looks horrified and offended, comically at the same time. There’s the faintest hint of mirth in the crease of her forehead that shows it’s all farce, but Aragon smirks.

She reaches over to touch the mug again, this time pulling it completely out of Anna’s hands. 

“Hey!” Anna whines. “I want that!”

There’s a playfulness in Aragon’s eyes, one Anna had never seen before. Still, she wants her coffee. 

She lunges for it, causing Aragon to pull it out of her reach.

“Bollocks, Catherine!” She exclaims, although her eyes sparkle to reflect Catherine’s own. 

Catherine laughs. “You really do only drink coffee and say bad words, huh.”

“I warned you.”

With another soft chuckle, Catherine returns the drink to its rightful owner. Grateful, Anna takes a sip of her (luckily still hot) coffee. 

“Say, Catherine?”

“Hm?”

“Since you’ve already tormented me this morning,” Anna jests, “what are the odds of some banana bread?”

Catherine grins, slightly lopsided. “You’re in luck.”

She climbs off the couch and moves to the kitchen, where, as fate would have it, a slightly-overripe bunch of bananas waits on the counter.

Anna is beaming with excitement - Catherine’s banana bread was one of her favorite foods in the world.

The first time she had eaten it, she had all but devoured the entire loaf single-handedly. Her mouth nearly waters at the thought, and, as she sits down at the island to wait, she’s nearly deliriously happy.

Catherine chuckles at the sight. ‘Accidentally’, she jostles the bag of chocolate chips, snapping Anna out of her fantastical state and causing her to flush with embarrassment. 

They make small talk, well, just general chit-chat, as Aragon prepares the dough. She pretends not to notice Anna’s swift hand reaching to steal a chocolate chip every few minutes, and pulls the mum-patented, “if you eat them now, there won’t be as many in the bread!”

Anna just smiles cheekily, and it warms Catherine’s heart to see her so relaxed and free.

She spoons the dough into a dish and pops it in the oven, and the disappointment is evident in Anna’s face as she watches Catherine set the timer to twenty-five minutes.

However, Anna can’t say she was expecting Catherine to take her arm and pull her to the couch, much less shifting so they were flush against each other. 

But, despite the unusual nature of the situation, Anna can’t help but lean into it, resting her head lightly against Aragon’s shoulder as an arm wraps gently around her own.

A tiny laugh echos in the back of her head - this is must be what Katherine sees during her cuddles with Jane.

Tiny tremors shudder through Catherine, and Anna once again blushes as she realizes that she must have said that out loud. 

“Your hugs are good too,” Anna promises quickly, somewhat shyly. She feels the soft press of lips against the top of her head.

“I love you too, Anna.”

Afterwards, they sit in silence, almost purely uninterrupted, until the oven timer beeps. Catherine finds herself chuckling as Anna quickly untangles herself and makes a mad dash for the kitchen, sliding along the floor in her socks as she goes.

Aragon removes the bread from the oven and sets it out to cool. She turns to see Anna grabbing plates and napkins for them both and bringing them to the counter, as well as, smiling excitedly, handing Catherine the required bread knife.

Once the bread has sufficiently cooled, she cuts a sizable piece for Anna and a slightly smaller one for herself. The bread is barely on the plate before Anna is grabbing her free hand and dragging her to sit at the island. 

There’s a small, victorious grin on Catherine’s lips as she watches how Anna digs into her bread.

“What?” Anna asks when she notices, barely a moment or two later.

Catherine laughs softly. “Three things.”

Anna raises her eyebrows. “What?” She repeats.

“Now you do three things.” Catherine’s grin grows. “Say bad words, drink coffee, and devour my banana bread.”

Anna, behind the crumbs on her lips and tiny smear of chocolate next to the crease of her mouth, can’t help but smile too.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[izzy-b-hands]

Hammer To Fall

Inspired by this set of pictures posted to the DL discord today! 

A.K.A: Roger and a hammer, what could possibly go wrong?

This became a bit more than just that, but the hammer is what sets it all off, lol. Also didn’t intend for it to join The Things Roger Kept series, but that’s where it ended up by the time I was done! 

And as for the title...I mean, it was right there. Can you blame me, what else was I going to call this? 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“Can I keep this?” 

“He’s kidding,” Brian said. “He doesn’t need to keep it.” 

“I absolutely need to keep it,” Roger scoffed. “I can use it on something! Can you imagine the sound...” 

“I can imagine something happening,” Brian said. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” 

“Roger being the one to open this thing, or him keeping that?” Freddie asked, a good few steps away from the barrel and Roger with the hammer.

“Yes,” Brian replied. 

“You can keep it, if you would like, Mr. Taylor. We’re honored!” their hosts grinned, talking over each other in assurances that he could have it. 

Roger stuck out his tongue at Brian. “See? At least some people here have common sense.” 

“In letting you keep that?” Brian muttered. “That’s not common sense.” 

“Are we opening this, or not?” John asked. 

“Oh, we are,” Roger grinned, and Freddie took another step away. 

“Someone else take that, now,” Brian said. “Quickly, please!” 

But it was too late, and with the most joyful yelp, Roger smashed the barrel open. 

The spray of sake only hit him, John, and Brian, but everyone jumped at it.

Brian shook his curls like a dog after being caught in the rain. “Do you all see what I meant now? Why I said to take it away from him?” 

“Hush,” Roger said, and handed him one of the cups, now full of sake. “I’m keeping it. And is there another one of these you need opened, by chance? I may have found a side career.” 

---

“Roger, no,” Brian sighed. 

They had been home for a few weeks, and had only now gotten together for an informal jam session/rehearsal. Sure enough, the hammer from the sake barrel had not only made its way home with Roger, but to the studio as well. 

“I think you mean, ‘Roger, yes,’“ Roger said as he tossed it from hand to hand. “What do you think this’ll sound best with?” 

“A shelf, where it can sit as a nice souvenir,” Brian replied. 

“Could try a timpani,” John suggested.

“You are not helping,” Brian sighed, exasperated. 

“Wasn’t trying to help,” John said. “I want to see what happens when he uses it.” 

“Freddie!” Roger crowed as Freddie walked in, a cup of tea in his hand. “You have the final vote: do I start with this on a timpani, or something else?” 

Freddie sipped at his tea. “Roger. You know I love you, right?” 

Roger nodded. 

“And I like to support you, yes?” 

Roger nodded again, a bit more hesitantly.

“That said,” Freddie sighed. “That was meant to open a barrel, which is...hardier than most drums, I would guess. I mean, I’m not an expert on drums or barrels, but-” 

“No, not you too,” Roger interrupted with a dramatic wail. “Oh, he’s gotten to you. The infection of Brian’s Stupid Sensibility and Boring...ness!” 

Freddie tried and failed to bite back a giggle, ignoring the glare from Brian. 

“Well, I’m not going to let you all hold me back,” Roger said. “When I have a number one single using this thing on my drums, don’t you cry to me that I have to tell anyone who asks about it how none of you supported me.”

“I’m neutral,” John protested. “I can think this is a stupid idea and support it at the same time!” 

“You aren’t going to the piano?” Brian asked Freddie as he settled into an open chair near him. 

“No, I’m going to watch the show first, and finish my tea,” Freddie replied. “Give it your all, Rog. However it goes down, we’re here for you.” 

“Thank you,” Roger nodded. “Finally, some actual common sense from you! You had me scared for a moment.” 

They watched as he dragged a tom close to him, and gently tapped at it with the hammer. The sound wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t nearly loud enough. 

“Oh dear,” Brian muttered under his breath, wincing as Roger drew his arm back high, and brought the hammer down with a thunderous noise. 

Roger frowned at the broken tom. “Oh.” 

“This is what I was afraid of,” Freddie admitted. “Maybe now we could-” 

“Toms are too delicate for this,” Roger interrupted. “Bass won’t do either.” 

Brian dropped his head to his hands as he leaned forward on his knees, his chair creaking as he moved. 

“Roger,” Freddie tried again. “You’re a smart man. And I know that means you like experimentation. However, I think this might be a time where more experimentation is not better, and you know I don’t like saying that, but for the sake of the instruments-” 

“Timpani!” Roger interrupted with a grin. “That’ll be the one.” 

“I told you it would need to be the timpani,” John said. 

“I’ll give you a credit on the song for your help,” Roger said. “A special one, ‘to John, for knowing which drum was best.’“ 

John nodded. “That’ll do.” 

“John!” Brian shouted. “Stop helping!” 

“I already told you this isn’t technically helping, because I still think this is stupid!” 

“Shouting isn’t helping either,” Freddie said gently. 

“Then what should I do?” Brian scoffed. 

“Sometimes you just have to let things happen,” Freddie replied, and rubbed at Brian’s back, his mug of tea forgotten and set on a nearby equipment case. “We’ll be fine, and this will be over in a moment.” 

Roger looked utterly hurt at that.

“Oh, Rog. Please don’t give me that look, but you aren’t listening to reason,” Freddie said desperately. “Please leave the timpani be, darling. We can find some other way to use the hammer in a song, I’m sure. Maybe hitting something sturdier with it, instead of a drum of any kind.” 

But Roger continued dragging one of the timpani away from its siblings, and raised the hammer again.

“Why don’t you go get us some lunch,” Freddie said to Brian as he covered his ears with his hands. “You and John. I’ll take care of Roger.” 

“Burn the hammer,” Brian whispered. 

“I’m not going to do that,” Freddie said. “And I don’t think that’s necessary. Go get us some food, go on.” 

Brian nearly ran out of the room. 

“Go on, John,” Freddie said, and nodded for John to follow him. 

“But-” 

“Please,” Freddie said, edging towards a gentle beg. “He’s upset, and he’ll end up forgetting something while he’s out as a result. I’m hungry, and I’d rather he not forget to bring enough food. You’re my back-up on this.” 

John rolled his eyes, but nodded and stood to run after Brian. “Fair enough. Good luck with this one.” 

Roger seemed to be stuck in his aiming, and in looking at him one could almost see the calculations in his eyes. 

“Before you do that,” Freddie said, letting his hands off his ears as the horrible noise no longer seemed imminent. “Can we go over what you’re about to do?” 

“Create a new, fantastic sound,” Roger said, but his arm holding the hammer twitched. 

“Possibly,” Freddie agreed. “Or, and stay with me here, you might be about to break a very expensive timpani.” 

“That...is also possible,” Roger admitted. “This is a bad idea, isn’t it?” 

“I’m so sorry,” Freddie said, and his honesty was evident in his tone. “I wish I could say otherwise, Rog.” 

Roger let the hammer down, and gently set it on top of the timpani. “I really do think it could be used to create something cool though.” 

“And I don’t disagree,” Freddie said, getting up to join him at the drum, resting an arm across Roger’s shoulders. “But I think we need to get...more experimental.” 

“...John has that big sheet metal he hasn’t used yet,” Roger mused. 

“He does,” Freddie said. “After lunch, we could send him out to get it.” 

“I could just catch up to him now and help him get it,” Roger said, and picked up the hammer before darting for the door. 

“Yeah,” Freddie agreed, then gasped. “Wait, no, bring the hammer back! Fucking hell, running down the sidewalk, waving that...” 

He charged out after Roger, the door slamming shut behind him. 

As if to add insult to injury, the shaking of the slamming door rattled his tea cup enough to bring it crashing off the edge of the equipment case to the floor. 

Along with their keys to the studio.

---

“Roger!” Freddie shouted, out of breath, platforms clacking on the sidewalk. “Oh these are fucking useless for this. Slow the fuck down!” 

Roger turned, and gave him a puzzled look. The passersby on the sidewalk gave them both a wide berth, eyes on the hammer in Roger’s hand. 

“What are you doing, Fred? I was going to be right back, after I found John.” 

“I know,” Freddie said. “But look at how you look right now.” 

Roger paused, looked to the hammer in his hand, then to everyone walking widely around them. “Ah.” 

“Yeah,” Freddie said. “Come on back to the studio, and put that back, at least. Then we can come back out and find them together, how about that?” 

Roger nodded, and they started back to the studio. 

“Lucky I didn’t get too far,” Roger laughed as they approached the front door. “Can you imagine what people must have been thinking?” 

“That you were on your way to commit a very particular murder?” 

“Huh. That sounds about right,” Roger said, and gave the door a yank.

It didn’t open.

“Freddie.” 

“Yes?” 

“You didn’t happen to lock the door when you came to the studio, did you?” 

Freddie nodded. “So no one could disturb us unless they had a key to get in.” 

“Okay. But did you grab our keys before you ran out to get me?” 

Freddie patted down his jacket pockets, and the color drained from his face. 

“This is fine,” Roger said, and gave the door another hard yank. “We can still get in.” 

“I’ll have to call the owner and let him know,” Freddie said miserably. “That seems fitting for today though, doesn’t it? What else can go wrong?” 

Roger stopped his fighting with the unbudging door, and stared at the hammer. “I’ve had an idea.” 

“...we already do have to pay for the tom,” Freddie sighed. “Go for it.”

It took a good few hits, but the door swung open after Roger battered it with the hammer. The doorknob was mangled, and the lock useless now. 

But they were in. 

“Told you lot that keeping this was a good idea,” Roger said as he strode triumphantly inside. “Can’t deny it now, can you?” 

“I suppose I can’t,” Freddie said. “But should we let it rest now, maybe? I’ve got some lyrics I’d like you to look over anyway, and we’ve got some time yet until Brian and John get back I’d gather...” 

It wasn’t an intensive pouring over the lyrics, but even so, they were deeply in the moment when Brian and John walked back up to the studio.

“What the fuck?!” 

Brian’s shout echoed into the studio, and they both winced. 

“We share equal blame in this,” Roger said. “He can’t be mad at both of us.”

“I think he can,” Freddie said. “But I admire your optimism all the same.” 

John was the only one who came in though, handing out the takeaway silently. 

“Is he okay?” Roger asked. 

“Ah,” John replied. “He is on the ground outside, trying to figure out if we can fix the door before anyone notices how broken it is.” 

“He knows that isn’t possible, right?” Freddie asked. “We’ll simply have to pay for it to be repaired.” 

“I think he does, but I don’t think he’s ready to accept that knowledge yet,” John sighed, and sat down with his food. “You going out to bring him down?” 

“It’s partially my fault, so yes,” Freddie murmured. “Give me his food. I’ll take mine and his with me. Maybe I can lead him back in with it.” 

“Can always take the hammer too!” Roger said. “Kidding.” 

Freddie chuckled and shook his head. “We’ll leave that as Plan B. And only because I think he would go after it to destroy it if I tossed it in here, and at least then he’d be inside.” 

As it would turn out, an apology and food were all it took to get Brian back inside, along with a promise that the sheet metal of John’s would be the only thing the hammer would be used on next. 

Years later, it had been fully retired, and rested on a shelf in Roger’s house. The shelf was another souvenir from Japan, bought on a later tour for him by Brian, who was still insistent that his original suggestion of keeping the hammer at home on a nice shelf had been the best one. 

And perhaps, now, he was right. 

[celtics534]

Natural Chapter 16

So, here we are. The second to last chapter of Natural. Get prepared for quite a ride! 

Read on: FF.net or AO3

Pregnant women are strange, Harry thought as he watched his wife dip a pickle into a jar of peanut butter. They were lounging on their sofa, the room filled with natural light as the wireless crooned in the background. It was comfortable, so comfortable that Harry had almost been lulled to sleep until he heard a loud crunch and saw his wife eating… that.  Now he may never sleep again.

 Five months into her pregnancy and Ginny had fully embraced its quirks. The unique eating habits, her increased body temperature (she had taken to casting cooling charms on whatever room she was in), the really odd dreams, and who could forget Harry’s personal favorite-- an increased libido. Just the other day Harry had been lounging on their bed studying the playbook Wood had created when Ginny basically appeared from thin air and jumped him. Not that he was complaining...quite the opposite, really.  

 Harry figured they were in the peaceful part of pregnancy. According to the books (because yes, he was actually reading them, Mum), this was the easiest part of the experience. Months seven through birth sounded like one of the layers of Hell and Harry was not overly excited for those months, but fuck he was excited to be a father.

 When they told his parents, his mother had cried and nearly hugged them to death. But when James took Harry aside and told him how his life was about to have a bigger meaning than he would have ever thought, that really hit him hard. Father and son had sat in the study drinking and talking, and honestly, it had become one of Harry’s fondest moments with his father.

 “Harry?” Ginny’s voice broke Harry out of his woolgathering.

 “Yes, Gin?” Harry sat up, ready for any task she had.

 “Could you please massage my feet?” Though Ginny had embraced the changes to her body, she didn’t like all of them. The heartburn and swollen feet were two of the worst. The number of foot rubs Harry had given in the last few weeks alone couldn’t be counted.

 He gestured for her to come closer. “Send them my way.”

 Ginny twisted her body so her back rested against the arm of the sofa and her feet were up in Harry’s lap. He tugged off her socks and took one foot into his hands. His thumbs pressed into her arch with knowledgeable precision.

 Harry moved slowly making sure to give every section of her foot plenty of attention. Based on the satisfied moans coming from Ginny, he was doing a good job.

 “Please quit your day job and become my personal foot masseuse.” Ginny arched her freshly rubbed foot, as Harry moved to the next one.

 “I don’t think Coach Cara will like that much.” Harry couldn’t help but smile at Ginny’s unladylike snort.

 “I’ll tell Cara where he can shove it.”

 “Now, now, no need to get violent.”

 Ginny shrugged. “I need a new way to vent. I can’t just go around knocking basic bitches off their brooms for the next few months like usual.”

 Harry paused his magic fingers and looked up at his wife. “You only did that to me once.”

 “And that was enough for you to be inducted into the basic bitch club.” Ginny took another pickle out of the jar and scooped some peanut butter with it.

 “Such loving words from the future mother of my child,” Harry said sarcastically as he dug the pad of his thumb into Ginny’s heel.

 Ginny looked unperturbed. “You knew what you were in for before you knocked me up. Besides, you love it.”

 Harry set her foot down gently before shifting his body so he lay between her hips. Their breaths mixed as Harry leaned in to kiss her. “More than I can say, even with your peanut butter and pickle breath”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 “Have you seen this?” George flourished the paper at his sister and brother-in-law. The couple were resting on the Burrow’s sitting room sofa, Ginny enjoying an extra slice of pie and Harry a cup of tea. Harry placed his mug on the coffee table and took the paper.

 He quickly scanned over the article that George had folded to, scoffing at the author. “Merlin, they never think before they publish, do they?”

 Ginny leaned onto his shoulder. “They’re talking about my career as if it’s over.”

 George nodded. “That’s what they say on the next page. They say how your impending bundle of joy, who we all pray has his Uncle George’s good looks, will keep you home and off the pitch.”

 Ginny straightened indignantly, her hand naturally coming to rest on her six-month baby bump.  “Just because I’m having a baby doesn’t mean I’m done with quidditch!”

 “Tell that to Witch Weekly,” Fred suggested from his spot by the fireplace.

 “That wouldn’t be the only thing I’d tell those pricks at Witch Weekly,” Ginny muttered darkly. Over the course of her pregnancy, Ginny and Harry had been hounded by the press and it was Ginny’s greatest desire to Bat-Bogey the lot of them. In particular the ever attentive writers at Witch Weekly, who had been harping on about Harry not being the father of their baby, with no evidence whatsoever.  

 “As much as I agree with you, Gin.” Harry placed a hand on his wife’s knee. “I’d rather not have the mother of my child give birth in Azkaban.”

 Ginny raised a ginger eyebrow at him. “That would only happen if they caught me, and I’m pretty sure I’d get away with it.”

 George laughed, nodding his head. “That you could Gin-Gin. It would be just like that time you stole a biscuit from the jar, and you got mum to think it was Ron.”

 “Oh yeah!” Fred shook a finger at his sister. “You are too cunning for your own good. I still don’t know how you convinced mum of that one. Multiple times.”

 Ginny smirked at her twin brothers. “It was rather easy. I just need to send her one of these.” She batted her eyelashes in a way that Harry recognized all too well from the times he hadn’t wanted to do something, and in end had done them. “And then I picked a brother to throw under the bus.”

 Fred let a low whistle. “That’s it?”

 “I would have thought there was more.” George stroked his chin in thought. “What about that time where you made mum think we stole Percy’s favorite quill?”

 “That was you.” Ginny reminded him.

 “Oh yeah. Okay, what about --” Over the course of the next three hours, Harry realized his wife was a nefarious mastermind, and he loved her more for it. But that damn article came back to nag at him throughout the rest of the day whenever left to his own devices.  

 Ginny seemed to still have it on her mind as well because she brought it back up while they finished their nightly routines. “Why is that women are expected to stay home and mind the children?” Harry had already tossed the excess pillows from the bed and crawled into his predetermined side while Ginny had changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and one of Harry’s old shirts. “Just because I want to continue playing after I have a baby doesn’t make me a bad mother.”

 “No, it doesn’t.” Harry faced his wife as she crawled under the covers.

 “Yet, that’s what people will think.” Ginny’s voice was filled with disgust. “I mean I don’t really care what people think, but I still find it fucking annoying.”

 Harry leaned across the small gap between them and pressed his lips to hers, which seemed to be what she needed after her rant. She scooted her body so it was tucked close to his-- well, as close as her extended stomach would allow. He felt her sigh as she pressed her nose into his neck.

 They lay in silence, arms around each other. Content just being there in their bed, where the rest of the world didn’t matter. It was just him and her.

 Harry took a deep breath, inhaling Ginny’s intoxicating scent, before speaking. “I’ve been thinking.”

 “A dangerous pastime, love.” Ginny murmured in a sleepy tone.

 “I know, but what do you think of me minding the baby full time?”

 Ginny shifted in his arms, leaning back so she could look at him in the bare light of the moon shining through the curtain. “What?”

 “Cara is retiring at the end of the year.” Harry guided his hand to rest on her stomach. “And I love quidditch and I do love playing, but not like you do.”

 Ginny reached behind her for her wand and lit the room with a quick wave. When she rolled back to look at him, her eyes blazed like the setting sun. “Are you saying you’re applying for the coaching position?”

 “I’ve already applied and I have it if I want it.” Harry kissed her lightly. “Ginny, I can take the baby with me to practices and what not. There is this little contraption that lets a baby sit on your chest while you walk around. And if the little bugger gets tired I can set up a bassinet in my office with a monitoring charm.”

 “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven't you?”

 “Since the day we found out you were pregnant.”

 Ginny’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

 Harry nodded. “I want to do this, Gin. I just need you to be on board with it.”

 “Why wouldn’t I be on board?” Ginny’s hand came up to rub his jaw. “As long as this is truly what you want to do.”

 “It is.” Harry felt like a weight lifted off his chest. “I’ll tell the owner I accept the offer tomorrow.” He took Ginny’s wand, which she had placed in the small gap between them, and turned out the lights.

 They resettled, Ginny turning around so her back was pressed against his chest and his hands could rest on the baby bump. Nothing had ever felt more right to Harry. This was him in his natural habitat. There was no doubt in his mind that he was doing the correct thing.

 The light fluttering pressure on his hand made Harry smile. His child seemed to agree and acknowledged it with a little kick.

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 “How’s the wife, Harry?” Sirius asked as he, Harry, and James settled in comfortable lounge chairs. They had put on the Wasps versus Catapults games on the wireless when they had entered Sirius’ ‘study,’ which was never used to study anything except old muggle motorcycle magazines.

 “Good.” Harry smiled at the mere thought of his seven, almost eight, months pregnant wife. “She’s out shopping with Luna today. Apparently, Luna thinks the baby needs some… well, I’m not quite sure what genre it is because Luna said a word I’d never heard, but a certain type of music.”

 “And Ginny’s all for that?” James asked with a raised brow.

 Harry shrugged. “Yeah, she loves Luna so she takes her suggestions seriously.”

 “What is this music suppose to do?” Sirius asked curiously before taking a large gulp from his beer. “What makes it so dire?”

 “Clear all the baby’s chakras.”

 Sirius blinked once, twice, and third time. “Oh good, I was worried about that.”

 James snorted but smiled. “Well other than chakra cleansing music, what else do you two need?”

 “Not much to be honest.” Harry took a sip from his drink. “Ginny’s already nesting. The last three weeks have consisted of us going out on random shopping trips to buy whatever item she’s thought of. But I think we have all the basics.”

 James placed his glass down and stood from his lazy chair. “Not everything. I have something to show you.” He poked his head out the door to yell for his wife. Lily hurried over from the kitchen where she had been talking with Sirius’ current bird (who had made it an unheard of six months).

 Harry accompanied his parents out of the study and towards the attic, Sirius following behind them like a dog. The old creaky stairs of Sirius’ old London house was the only sound between the group.

 Once they reached the door, James turned to Harry. “You know how I’ve been taking that woodworking class?”

 Harry nodded. He still found it odd that his father had taken up the old muggle art form. Though he did find it adorable when his father visited after a class and had wood shavings in his greying hair.

 “Well, I started this project as soon as you told me about the baby.” James opened the door and lit the oil lamps with a wave of his wand. A dark oak rocking chair sat in the middle of the room. Harry forgot how to speak as he moved over to the chair. He brushed his hand across the finished armrest up to the intricate headrest.

 “Dad --” Harry cleared his throat, hoping to dislodge whatever had gotten stuck. “It’s amazing.”

 “Your mother picked out the design and wood color.” James threw an arm over Harry’s shoulder. The headrest had outlines of two quidditch players. One held a quaffle under their arm and the other was speeding towards a snitch. With a bit of magic, the two figures flew past each other, and their heads turning to look back at the other.

 Lily pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “It will be perfect for you and Ginny to rock the little one to sleep.”

 Harry nodded, completely forgoing words as he pulled both his parents into a hug.

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 “I swear I’ve become a beached whale,” Ginny moaned as she adjusted her position on the bed. Her bum had become completely numb. Being eight months pregnant had led to an array of unexpected uncomfortable things. The amount of gas she had for starters…

 “The prettiest beached whale I ever did see.” Harry leaned over to kiss her cheek.

 Ginny snorted. “First of all, you shouldn’t agree with the description of beached whale. As the husband, it’s your job to find an alternative comparison. Secondly, if I hadn’t just found the most comfortable position, I would totally hex you for your impudence.”

 Harry smiled at her threat. “Now you wouldn’t want to hex the father of your child, would you?” Ginny just raised an eyebrow. Harry tried again. “Father of your child that wears glasses? Would that deter you?”

 “You know,” Ginny let her voice drop, becoming sultry. “There is something that could, as you put it, deter me.”

 “Oh?” Harry smile slid into a dirty smirk. He adjusted his body so he was on her side of the mattress, his lips an inch from her ear and his fingers at the hem of her shirt. “What might this interference be?”

 “A big bowl of that vanilla ice cream we have.”

 Harry blinked owlishly for a moment, before chuckling. “Out of everything I had to offer, you pick ice cream.”

 Ginny smiled at him. “I think we both know what your preferred distraction would be, that’s what got me into this mess of hormones and cravings.”

 “And wasn’t it a great diversion. It made me forget about losing to the Tornados.”

 “A pick me up wasn't the only thing you got that night.”

 Harry laughed, pressing a final kiss to her lips and her stomach before rolling off the bed. “Right, because it’s my fault you ambushed me while I was in the shower and you were on a faulty potion.”

 “Obviously.”

 Harry smiled to himself as he headed towards the kitchen. He paused in the doorway when Ginny called his name. He spun to see his gorgeous wife propped up on her pregnancy pillow. He still couldn’t get over how amazing she looked while carrying his child. Merlin, his child, who would be born in a month or two...

 In all honesty, Harry didn’t feel prepared at all. He knew all first-time parents felt like this, between talking with his parents and Ginny. Merlin, he was scared. But then he looked at Ginny and couldn't get it out of his head, how their child will be with them in mere weeks. Her freckled nose with his eyes on their baby’s chubby cheeks. Being able to lay in that very bed and just snuggle their baby as they fall asleep. No, Harry wasn’t prepared at all, but he couldn’t wait.

 “Yes, darling?”

 Ginny gave him that look. The look that she only gave him. Her eyes seemed to melt his brain into a puddle of goo, all the while making sure his body knew he was alive. “Don’t forget about the chocolate sauce and cherry.”  

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 “Only one week until the suspected due date of Ginny Potter.” Mothers reminded the listeners. “Dan, what do you reckon the baby will be? A boy or a girl?”

 “I don’t know.” Dan tapped his chin in consideration. “Witch Weekly claims it’s gonna be a girl because of how she’s carrying, but honestly I’m sensing a boy.”

 “Me too. Harry actually told me last week, after the Puddlemere versus Portree game, that they've decided to wait to find out the gender, so they don’t even know.”

 “Did he have a preference?”

 “No. He just wanted his wife and child to be happy and healthy.” Mothers paused for a second. “Though, he did say he would love to have a daughter that was just as beautiful as her mother. And if that isn’t the sweetest thing you ever did hear…”

 “Harry Potter, star seeker of Puddlemere United, the closet romantic.” Gregory laughed. “If everyone didn’t love our star couple, the birds would be flocking to him.”

 “Ah, here come the teams now.” Mothers tuned the listeners back to the game. “This is Puddlemere versus The Harpies. It will be a different game without Ginny Potter.”

 “This is the first time these two teams will have met this season.” Gregory reminded everyone. “The Harpies’ main driving force last year was Ginny Potter and without her talents… Well, we’ll have to wait and see what the Harpies have up their sleeves.”

 “You can tell Captain Gwenog Jones is thinking along those lines. The glare she just sent Harry Potter.” Mothers chuckled.

 “That’s what he gets for impregnating his wife.” Dan joined his fellow announcer's line of humor. “An angry captain.”

 “Though Ginny is here to watch the game.” Mothers pointed her out in the crowd to Gregory. “She’s here with at least two of her brothers. I think it’s the twin owners of Weasley Wizard Wheezes.”

 “The captains have shaken hands and the balls have been released.” Gregory tuned everyone into the action they were paid to talk about.

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 George waited for Ginny to open her eyes before speaking in a low voice. “You’re in labor aren't you?” Over the last hour, George had seen his sister wince three times before shutting her eyes.

 “It’s fine.” Ginny met his gaze. “They’re still far apart. It’s when they come every four minutes that I need to go see Padma.”

 George gave her a skeptical look, but he didn’t know enough to truly argue with her. “Fine. But you’ll tell me as soon as it’s at the four-minute mark?”

 “Of course.”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Harry took a large gulp of water from his water bottle. The game had been brutal, neither team willing to give any leeway. The number of bludgers Harry had already avoided in the last hour was remarkable.

 He threw the bottle back onto the bench and ran his hand against his forehead, wiping off sweat.

 “Alright, lads.” Cara came over to the squad after talking with Devlin. “The Harpies have come to kill, but we won’t let them. Love, I need you to focus on Hawkins. She’s on point today, and we need to ruin her day.”

 Cara listed off a bunch of plays to help the chasers cover more ground. Finally, he turned to Harry. “Potter, you --” He stopped mid-sentence as a silver coyote ran into the pit.

 “Harry!” The patronus spoke in George’s voice, but with a slight nervousness that was wasn’t normal for the prankster. “Ginny’s in labor. I’m taking her to St Mungo's now.”

 There were ten seconds of stunned silence between the entire team, before Bastille shouted, “Well? Get going, Potter.”

 Harry ran a hand through his hair as the team joined in the chant. His brain couldn’t catch up. Ginny was in labor... Devlin gave him a little shove and finally, Harry’s feet got the message. He ran… straight towards the fireplace in the coach’s office, and to his wife.  

[hennessystevens-udaku]

My Bloody Valentine

A little twisted Love Day fic for my favorite rebel @thereturnofbadazz!

“I wonder how many lovers are gonna die today,” Aly’Sha said with sneer as she watched the news.

“What yo lil psycho ass talking about, Sha Sha,” Erik asked with a smirk.

“Yeah, it’s Valentine’s Day. Why you talking about folks dying?” Kimora chirped from the other side of the living room.

“It’s also Purge Day,” Aly’Sha responds casually.

“You mean poor man elimination day,” Angel says, cradling the twins closer. Now that she was older, she didn’t see the point of violence as a means of “cleansing” the country of its sins.

“Yeah that shit’s stupid,” Erik agreed, flipping the station. “Just another tactic white folks use to eradicate black folks. Alright ladies, if y’all don’t mind, me and Mama got a date,” Erik says with a sly grin in Hennessy’s direction.

“Actually baby, I was thinking maybe you could spend the day with another wife. You’ve spent the last 16 Valentine’s Days with me, spoil someone else,” she says not looking up from her MacBook. She was in the process of scouting out new locations for her dispensary and wasn’t exactly in the mood to break concentration. Before Erik could ask which of his wives would be the lucky lady this year, Ryley stormed into the house, chest rising and falling quickly with anger.

“What’s the matter, Princess?” he asked from his relaxed position on the couch.

“Them white bitches down the street keep fuckin with me. I’m trying to be nice and keep it cute since I’m a princess now and shit, but they about to make Ryley Badazz come out of retirement!” Erik chuckled at her, loving how sexy she got when she was angry.

“Calm down, Ry Ry. Tell Daddy what happened.” He listened intently, blood boiling as she explained how the Becky’s with the stringy hair had egged her car, slashed her tires, and had been overall mocking her for the past week.

“Calm down baby. You’re a princess, don’t lower your standards for peasants.”

“That’s cute and all, but look at what they spray painted on the house.” Erik’s smirk quickly faded to a menacing mug when he saw the words ‘Killmonger’s a bitch’ spray painted in bright red paint on the northern wall of The Kompound. Without another word, he made his way downstairs to his arsenal with Ryley hot on his heels.

“How about we show them white bitches who run shit,” he called over his shoulder.

“What you mean, Daka?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well it’s Valentine’s Day and it’s also Purge Day, so how about for our date we show them why they shouldn’t fuck with the Stevens-Udaku household?” Ryley’s face twisted into a devilish grin as she gazed upon the various weapons.

Wanna play, Candy Girl?” he asked as he handed her the Swarovski studded M-16.

“Let’s play, Daddy.”

--

“Y’all sure y’all don’t wanna get in on the action?” Erik asked the remaining wives as he prepared for the night’s festivities.

“This is Ryley’s night, why you inviting other people?” Henny scolded from her relaxed position between Charlie’s plush thighs. They had all agreed to watch the events from the body cameras Shuri had installed on his and Ryley’s protective armor, Angel not wanting to engage in the sport because she didn’t see the point of senseless violence.

“You right, Mama,” Erik replied solemnly, looking over at Ryley. “My bad, Princess.”

“It’s cool, Fathead. Now let’s go murder some white bitches,” she says with a laugh. She was all dolled up in a pink and black bejeweled bodysuit with a pink tutu and thigh high Louboutin Frenchissima boots. On her head, she donned a pink headdress that matched her bodysuit, each piece made out of vibranium to keep her safe. Not like anyone would dare try to harm a Princess of Wakanda.

“Damn you look good enough to eat, Ry Ry,” Erik said as he admired her attire.

“Later, Daka. We got business to handle first.” The announcement sounded as the pair finished adjusting their masks.

This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government. Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 a.m., when The Purge concludes. Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn. May God be with you all.

At the sound of the alarm, Erik and Ryley made their way outside to his blacked out Lamborghini Aventador with butterfly doors. For aesthetic effect, he blasted the psycho version of I Got 5 On It as he maneuvered the car down the street.

“Which house baby?”

“That one, that last one on the right.”

“Sha Sha, do your thing, baby.”

In an instant, the target house went completely dark and all of their protective armor was disabled, leaving them completely exposed to the outside world.

“How did you even do that?” Kimora asked Aly’Sha, whose face was buried in her iPhone.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t really want the answer to,” Hennessy answered for her.

“You ready, Ry Ry?”

“Let’s go.”

The pair exited the vehicle and slowly crept to the bay window that displayed the living room. The owners of the dwelling could be seen crowded around one another, a desperate attempt to protect themselves. Idiots.

“Sha Sha, do the thing.”

With another press of a button, the living room began to fill with tear gas, forcing the occupants of the house to run off in different directions, unintentionally aiding the pair in their sadistic plan.

“Time to go hunting,” Erik says as he kicked the door in.

--

“Aye, Vita,” Bast called out quizzically to Big Sis meandering in her lab. “Why you not upstairs watching Erik and Ry Ry turn up on the Beckys?”

Vita had a theatrical setup with a projector and surround sound. It was as if she converted her space into a miniature IMAX theater.

“Because, I have some unfinished business that's about to play out on this computer screen,” she explained leaning back in her seat, gathering her snacks, getting comfortable.

“What unfinished business?”

“Did I ever tell you the story of how I came to own Amazon?”

“Since when did you own Amazo-”

“See, what had happened was…”

He bowed before me, kneeling with great shame and humility. Once a proud, vain man now driven to begging. It's his own fault you know, this present state of duress. Often times when you wish to destroy your enemy you don't have to pull the trigger yourself, you only have to had them the gun and watch them blow their own brains out.

What made him a target, you ask? They were the vices he frequently indulged himself in; greed, lust, hubris, all of which led him to being an easy mark.

What were the bullets I used? His disgruntled employees, his gullible mistress, his betrayed wife, his disloyal business associates. Each pawn having been strategically used for my benefit and mine alone.

What pulled the trigger? He dared to insult me as if I were anything less than greatness. He'd the nerve to belittle my life's work as if I weren't a force to be reckoned with. I had just finished a masterful presentation of my future plans for my then budding tech company and as everyone else showered me with my well deserved praise he thought it humorous to describe my exemplary business model as “cute”. I could not let such a slight get away with impunity, a lesson needed to be taught.

Shortly after his billion dollar divorce when his liaisons with another woman were “mysteriously” leaked he tried to push his already exhausted workers even further which led to an international strike, that lasted for several months due to strikers being funded by an “anonymous” donor that helped them pay their bills at home and even finance ad campaigns to expose the heinous labor practices of the company, causing a severe decline in business. With sales and online traffic on the decline stocks careened further into the economic abyss leaving investors dissatisfied. Receiving inside information from an “unknown” source, they collectively decided to relocate their interests into another expedition… Mine.

That's right, my “cute” little business became a worldwide conglomerate seemingly overnight. And he could have shared in that wealth had he not crossed me. Now I, Davita Roberson, tower over him as he's become a hollow shell of his former self, selling what remains of his share in his dying company for pennies of what it used to be. Both his ex wife and former flame have found new loves that I helped introduced them to, his former workers are living more fulfilled lives under my employ, and I've blackballed all of those crooked investors because they couldn't be trusted.

Jeff will have to live out the remainder of his life buried in debt and regret, but who cares. The moment he affronted me was the instant he sealed his fate…

“And that's what happened,” Vita concluded.

With a roll of her eyes Bast couldn't help but ask,“You righteously decided to pull a massive company takeover because he called your business cute?”

“He was being passive aggressive. By calling my business plan “cute” he was downplaying it as if I were some child. He was belittling me and underestimated my capabilities. So bitch had it comin!”

“Aight aight, so what does that have to do with this little personal movie night you got going?”

“Well, Bezos couldn't stand being broke so he sold his body for a Purge Feast. He was right back to living his old lifestyle only on someone else's dime.”

“OK? That sounds amazing, what's the catch and what is a Purge Feast? Is he about to be gangbanged, what?”

“He's about to be eaten.”

“WHAT?”

“When a person donates their body to a Purge Feast they are provided a lavish lifestyle, they have to be disease free, drug free, given massages to ensure their tenderness and are put on a supremely exquisite diet of delicacies so that they're meat is undeniably sweet. Jeff has been fattened, and now is the time for the slaughter.”

“Ooooooh shit scoot over, bitch!”

The two women watched as Bezos was guided onto a giant chopping block placed on a stage. He was stripped bare naked then instructed to lay face down on the human sized cutting board. The executioner came into view wielding a great axe with a long blade, sharp enough to split hairs. The massive weapon was hoisted into the air then brought down upon the back of the former CEO’s neck. A clean cut, in only one swipe the head was severed and the blood gushed forth like the intense orgasm of a woman. The executioner continued to dissect the body as a flock of chef's assistants scurried to pick up the pieces while avoiding the swings. Once completed, the good was quickly prepared and presented to a dinner party that catered to the adventurous elites of society. As the soiree carried on, Davita took a bite of her own snacks, inhaling deeply, savoring the moment.

“Mmmm, delicious.”

--

“My bloody valentine, sweet comic Valentine. You make me smile with my heart,” Erik’s deep voice sang from the body cam. Charlie, Kimora, Hennessy, and Aly’Sha watched with glee as their husband dismembered one of the sisters, impaling her on the banister of the grand staircase of the foyer. So far, the pair had murdered three of the six members of the family and were searching for the patriarchs of the family. They passed the young boy’s severed head and the second sister’s torso on the way upstairs. They found the mother and father huddled in their shared bedroom, the mother clutching a bible to her chest.

“Why white people always turn to God when they about to die?” Erik inquired, more rhetorically than anything.

“P-Please don’t hurt us. We’ll give you anything you want,” the woman attempted to bargain.

“Bitch I’m a Prince, I don’t need ya money. I’m just here to give your family a lesson in respect. Now, I’ll only ask this once, where’s Penelope?”

“What do you want with my daughter?” the father asked with a little too much bass in his voice. Erik fired a warning shot to his right thigh before answering.

“I ask the questions here, Bob, but if you must know, the little bitch vandalized my property and harassed my wife. She just wants an apology, right Ry Ry?”

“Yes Daddy,” Ryley said with mock sincerity.

“She’s downstairs, under the staircase.”

“Say less,” Ryley said, skipping downstairs to the girl’s hiding place. She growled with anger when she discovered the spot was empty.

“That bitch lying, Daddy!” Another set warning shots went off upstairs, this time striking the mother in the ribs and the father in the shoulder.

“See, I was tryna be nice about this. I’m already gone kill y’all, don’t expedite the process. Where the fuck is she?”

“I’m right here you black bastard!” Suddenly the entire room exploded in flames as Penelope appeared with a flamethrower. When the flames dispersed, Erik stood completely unharmed with a twisted grin on his face.

“You really though you did some shit, huh?” Penelope’s face twisted in horror as she watched Ryley appear behind her with a metal baseball bat, a weapon she’d gotten from the younger boy’s room. With one hard hit to the head, Penelope was out. Erik and Ryley the drug the bodies downstairs, tying them up in the center of the living room.

“We are gonna purge today, purge today, purge today. We are gonna purge today and burn this bitch down,” Ryley sang gleefully as they exited the house.

“Sha Sha, cue the fireworks.”

In an instant the entire house exploded, lighting up the entire neighborhood like the 4th of July. As a means to commemorate the night, the couple made love on the hood of the Lamborghini, the screams of the dying family serving as their background music.

“Wow. That was hot,” Charlie said as Erik emptied himself onto Ryley’s bloodsoaked face.

“Literally,” Hennessy said in agreement. Suddenly, Ryley’s voice could be heard from the cam.

“Happy Purge Day, sluts!”

***************************

TAGS: @itsangeludaku @hearteyes-for-killmonger @poosypoosy @vikkidc @panthergoddessbast @blackpantherismyish @dameshaemonique @sydneebleu @amethyst1993 @blowmymbackout @trevantesbrat @thadelightfulone @princessstevens @princesskillmonger @killmongersgurl @tgigoldie @supersizemeplz @wawakanda-btch @bidibidibombaclaat @calitexastrillgoddess @thehomierobbstark @mareethequeen @iamrheaspeaks @forbeautyandlife @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove

[tybalt-tisk]

.whiskey-stained walls

Gangster Au Shallura Summary: Allura always knew exactly what to say to bring him back. Slight angst, fluff. Note: This is for my girl @mitzoco who passed her exam to get her nursing license! I am so proud of you! Since you loved A Gangster’s Wife so much, I decided to write another chapter for you as a reward.  Ao3

//

Keith flinched at the sound of glass shattering as it collided against the wall. Ever since they discovered that a mole had infiltrated their tight circle, Shiro had been on a rampage. He swept the city, searching through every warehouse, every hideout, every cafe, and every club questioning owners and workers alike. It didn’t take long to pinpoint exactly who had been foolish enough to betray his trust. The situation was quickly handled, the body was properly disposed of, and the only thing that was left to do was to tie up loose ends to make sure something like this never happened again. However, after witnessing Shiro’s wrath first hand, Keith was sure no one would even dare to consider the thought.

Even after everything was set and done, Shiro was still seething. He paced his office and anything he came into contact with was confronted with his rage. Keith had never seen him like this before. Usually, he was the one to lose his temper and Shiro was the one to keep his cool and guided him to do the same. Now the roles were reversed and nothing Keith did was enough to calm the leader who he saw as a brother.

Another whiskey glass met an untimely fate with the wall and it was followed by a long string of hostile words Keith couldn’t comprehend. He told himself that he would teach himself Japanese long ago, but now that he saw his brother in this state, he’d rather not understand what the older man was saying.

Keith slouched in his chair before he folded his arms over his chest and resisted the urge to yawn and stretch out his stiff limbs. It was late. Maybe half past midnight and they had a long, stressful day. He was usually a night owl, but the day had been taxing and it took its toll on him. But none of that seemed to have any sort of effect on Shiro. The man was wired, heated, and stressed beyond the point of no return. There was no way in hell that the man was going to calm himself down enough to take a breather and by the state of his usually organized office, he probably wasn’t going to bed anytime soon, either.

Shiro continued to pace his office as he talked on the phone of one of his trusted men. He needed to make sure that whatever the mole had leaked would not affect future plans or put anybody under his watch in danger.

Shiro took the greatest pride in his role as a leader of a gang who was notorious for all the morally right reasons. His turf was his home. It held his family; those who weren’t related by blood that helped raised him since he was a young boy who lived in the streets. From the bakery on 5th street, who fed him daily to the police station on Myrna Ave who let him go with warning after warning but never let him go without a lengthy lecture. In a way, they saved him.

And he was going to return the favor.

He grew up here. He made a life here. He learned to protect it with his bare hands, both metal, and flesh, here. He would do anything to make sure its residents were safe from harm from outsiders who wanted to run this city into the ground. He would guard his city until he was no longer physically capable to do so.

Today, a mole had managed to get past his defenses. He took it hard and it showed to the point where the entire city knew it. He needed to make sure that it would never happen again.

Shards of glass cracked under his feet with each step as he made his way to the window to continue his heated conversation. “I don’t care that you just got them this morning. Throw them all out, Gaizan! What…” he paused to give the man a chance to speak, but when he didn’t hear what he wanted to, the flame once again returned to a raging fire. “Will you fucking listen to me? I don’t give a shit if he gives you half off on Sundays. We can no longer trust that supplier. Cut all ties with him, now.”

Keith rubbed his temples when he heard the man on the other line continue to argue with his boss. It was going to be a long night. Behind him, he heard the door creak open and he rolled his eyes. Whoever it was, he felt sorry for them because they didn’t deserve whatever heat Shiro was going to give them.

His body jerked tensely but immediately relax when he felt soft arms wrap around his shoulders from behind. Long, silver curls tumbled over his shoulders and he let his head fall back to look at his savior. “Oh thank God you’re here,” he said relieved after she kissed him the cheek as a sweet greeting.

Allura laughed lightly at his response. “Is it that bad?”

Keith nodded tiredly. “I’ve never seen him this riled up before. And I thought I was bad.”

She ruffled his hair. “Oh, but you definitely are, Kogane,” she said playfully in return.

She unwrapped her arms from him and stood before she walked around him so she could set a hefty tote bag on the mahogany desk. “Have either of you eaten?” she asked as she unpacked the containers full of hot food.

At the sound of her voice, Shiro finally turned away from the window. His body was still tense - balled fist, heavy breathing, and flared nostrils, but his eyes softened significantly at the sight of her. His eyes went from her to the food on the desk and he raised a thick, dark brow in question. The look didn’t last long before it was replaced with anger and he was back to talking to Gaizen. He turned his back to Allura and Keith and continued to explain what their next move was.

“I ate about two hours ago, but he hasn’t eaten anything since this morning when we found that bug on one of the landlines,” Keith explained through a long yawn.

She nodded in understanding as she unpacked two matching mugs - one of their many wedding gifts, and a flower printed thermos. “Careful with those, you don’t want it to end up like the rest.” Keith gestured towards the whiskey-stained wall with glass shards at its base. They were going to get drunk ants if someone didn’t clean that up soon.

Allura seemed unphased at the sight and she continued to set up the rest of the containers around the desk in a neat and organized fashion. Shiro watched her out of the corner of his eye and his tone was losing some of the animosity it carried like a grudge all day. “Keith, will you be joining us for dinner?” she asked him casually over Shiro’s voice.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I can. It’s too late for me to eat, ‘Lu,” he said with a stretch and another yawn escaped his lips.

She watched his tired form. “I already prepared one of the guest rooms upstairs for you. Go to bed, Keith. I can take over from here.”

He frowned as he watched Shiro’s tense shoulders. “You sure?” He didn’t fear for Allura���s safety because Shiro would never dream of harming her, but he didn’t want to come back later to have to deal with two stressed out individuals on his hands. Shiro was stubborn when he wanted to be, but he was no match for the hellfire that was Allura.

She sent him a dazzling smile followed by a sly wink. “Of course.” She grabbed his wrists and pulled him to his feet. “You’ve done more than enough, Keith.” She gave him a hug goodnight and he returned it the best he could in his tired state before he left the room.

When Allura finished setting up her desk picnic, she took a step back to admire her handiwork. Now that dinner was ready, it was time to wrangle in the cowboy. She approached him wordlessly before she stuck her hand out and gestured for his phone. Shiro’s jaw clenched as he eyed her through steel eyes.

Through the phone line, she heard Gaizan’s muted voice call out her husband’s name and before Shiro could respond, Allura took the phone away from him. His grip on the phone lasted only a fraction of a second before he gave up the device to her. He never denied her anything and he wasn’t about to start now. No matter how stressed he was.

She smiled at him before she spoke into the phone. “Good evening, Gaizan.” Shiro rolled his eyes at the man’s immediate change in tone. Just like himself, Gainzan’s voice lost its hostility the second he heard the woman speak. “I’m well and yourself?... That’s wonderful to hear! How are those granddaughters of yours doing?”

She always knew exactly what it took to steer the conversation until the ball was in her court and she played it to her advantage. She walked away from Shiro but didn’t get far before he gently pulled her by the waist to steer her clear of the broken glass that covered a large portion of the wooden floors. She frowned at the scene when she recognized her favorite champagne flute was now in hundreds of pieces but mouthed her gratitude as she listened to the man speak intensely about his grandkids on the other line.

Shiro pulled at her away from the shattered glasses until he backed her into his desk. He buried his face into the crook of her neck so he could inhale the scent of her shampoo.

God, he didn’t realize how much he missed her until she was here.

Mindful of the food Allura had already set up, he then wrapped an arm around the small of her back and the other around the underside of one of her thighs before he lifted her so he could sit her on his desk. At the new angle, he took a moment to look her over. She had enough money to wear the finest silks to bed but she opted to wear an oversized, bleached stained NASA shirt she found at the thrift store for $3 and a pair of yoga pants she refused to do yoga in. Her hair was in a messy bun that sat atop her head but silver clumps of hair still managed to escape the hold and cascade down her back.

As she continued to chat with the man that he wanted to strangle just 3 minutes ago, he took the chance to take off her slippers so he could check for any glass shards that might have gotten lodged into the soles of the fuzzy, pink bunny slippers. When he cleared the slippers, he moved on to check her feet for tiny pieces of glass as well. He was still on the verge of unfiltered anger, but it didn’t stop him from playfully running a finger up the arch of her foot. She immediately jerked her feet away before she frantically swatted his hand away from the ticklish area.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face but it wasn’t enough to take away the stress. He leaned back into his chair and stared at the ceiling. He sighed when he saw another whiskey stain on the ceiling. They were gonna get ceiling ants.

“Now now, Gaizan, you know that we need to take precautions for instances like this.” Her words suddenly caught his attention. It was rare that she handled this aspect of the life she married into. Shiro would rather that she stayed away from it just so he could have that extra layer of security between her and the profession he could never escape.

Allura must have seen the look in his eyes because she reached out to caress his face with a soft, delicate hand. Her hand moved from his cheek, up into his hair. He felt himself relax into her touch as she gently raked her perfectly manicured nails through his black hair. “Yes, I know. It’s unfortunate that this happened but you have to understand that we can no longer trust this supplier because he was reported talking to the wrong people.” Her voice was soft and diplomatic but it held no room for argument. “You know we will make up for the lost wages, Gai. Besides, I may know someone who has a better deal. How about 40% off on – let me finish. I let you talk, now you are going to do the same. How about 40% off on Sundays and Thursdays?”

Shiro snorted. Sundays and Thursdays? That sounded like a good bargain. But only 40%? Impossible. There was no way Gaizan would take a deal like that. He had been trying to convince that old cheapskate to get a new supplier for years. There was no way in hell, not now, not ever that the man would ever even consider agreeing to such a ridiculous ide–

“Perfect! I say we have a deal,” she said as she threw a wink towards Shiro.

Son of a bitch.

Shiro groaned and laid his head in Allura’s lap and she patted him on the back. Maybe as a way to console him or maybe she was just rubbing his face in the fact that she was better at negotiations than he was.

“Alright, Shiro will come by tomorrow to go over the details with you. And tell your wife that I am looking forward to coffee on Wednesday.” She paused for a moment before her eyes lit up. “Of course, I can bring you those scones! Just let me know what kind you want by Tuesday and I’ll make it happen. Alright, you have a good night, Gai.”

She ended the call with the stubborn man she suddenly had wrapped around her pretty little finger and placed the phone into one of the drawers. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Shiro mumbled into her lap. He wrapped an arm around her middle to bring her closer to the edge of the desk and closer to him.

She laughed and continued to run her fingers through his hair. “I’m fully aware, there’s no need to tell me,” she teased with a smirk. After a moment, she lightly pushed him away so she could open the containers of food and Shiro immediately recognized the smell from his favorite Thai restaurant just a few blocks away.

He checked the clock on his desk. “Pheung’s is still open this late?” he asked as she laid out the food.

She shook her head. “No, but like the rest of the city, she heard what happened today and she just knew that my idiot of a husband was giving himself a hard time about it. She came by about two hours ago to drop it off.” She opened two pairs of chopsticks and set them each in a different bowl. “I figured that I’d give you some time to cool off before I brought it in but since that never happened...” She left the rest of her sentence unsaid with narrowed eyes. She then poured him some tea from the thermos and handed him a mug before she poured herself a cup.

Shiro took the tea gratefully and he closed his eyes in satisfaction at the smell of the bittersweet liquid. Before he met Allura, he was not a tea drinker. But she had convinced him to give it a try and through trial and error of the all the different flavors the beverage had to offer, he finally found his favorite and hasn’t let it go since. He wanted so badly for the tea combined with her presence to be enough to calm him down, and yes, to a certain extent, it was, but he still found his shoulders stiff and his breathing slightly stifled.

He took a tentative sip to make sure the temperature wouldn’t scald him. “I’m sorry, Allura,” he apologized after a deep breath. “I just–“

She shook her head. “Let's eat first, then we can talk about what happened today.” It was a command that she had wrapped up to look like a suggestion.

“To be honest with you, I don’t have much of an appetite,” he confessed as he eyed the food she had.

She watched him silently for a moment before she sighed and broke the chopsticks. She brought her chicken pad thai up to rest on her thighs and she picked up a piece and brought it to his lips.

He raised a brow. “You can’t be serious.”

“Try me, Shirogane,” she challenged.

He rolled his eyes before he opened his mouth to take the offered food. He hummed in content when the savory food made contact with his taste buds. It was better than he previously remembered.

Allura almost laughed at his reaction. “Pheung told me to tell you that she made your favorite dish with love, today.” She picked up another piece of chicken and popped it into her mouth. “That woman is an amazing cook. She told me that she was going to teach me how to make gaeng daen so I, ‘could make my husband happy.” She laughed to herself when she finished the quote.

Shiro joined her in laughter. “You already make me the happiest man alive,” he said before he childishly opened his mouth welcoming another piece from her. He could already feel his anger dwindling down. Since the moment he laid eyes on her, she always had that effect on him. When he was lost, even to himself, she always managed to find him and bring him back.

She wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Apparently you could be happier with red curry.”

Shiro grinned. That old woman never could hold her tongue. Whatever was on her mind, she made it known. He took the chopsticks from her so he could feed himself. “By the way, how is she? Was she walking okay?”

Allura crossed her legs and brought the cup of hot tea to her lips. “She still had a limp, but she’s looking a lot better than she was last week after her fall,” she informed him.

Shiro nodded, processing the information. “Do you think she’s taking her medication?”

“I’m unsure actually,” she said. “I’ll make sure to send Hunk over to spy her.” The sunshine boy was her favorite and she always made sure to let everyone know so they could be rightfully jealous.

Shiro’s jaw clenched. That’s what the rival gang, Sincline, did to him; sent a spy. He should have caught it earlier. He shouldn’t have trusted the man so easily and like a fool, just as they had predicted, he fed right into his enemy’s lies. His hands started to shake at the thought of his stupid mistakes.

Once again, through the darkness and through the clouds of self-doubt, Allura hands reached out to ground him once again. Her fingers danced over his skin as she caressed his cheeks before they wandered to his scar to lightly trace it. Besides his kind eyes, it was her favorite part of him. “Deep breaths, Takashi,” she said suddenly and he followed her command without question. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth.

The anger he had for himself was no match for the love he had for her. But the overwhelming sense of guilt was a strong contender and threatened to consume him whole. “Takashi.” Why did she sound so far away?

“Look at me.”

He couldn't.

She brought her hands under his chin and forced him to meet her gaze. She brushed the white strands of hair out of his eyes. “What happened today wasn’t your fault,” she told him carefully.

He suddenly pulled away from her. “I’m the leader, of course, it’s my fault,” he argued, careful not to raise his voice. No matter how angry he was, he would never even dream about taking that frustration out on her.

“But you caught it before he was able to do anything.”

He stood up quickly, the action caused the desk chair to fly back and slam against bookshelf behind him. Before he could stop himself, he was pacing the floor again. The glass under his feet crunched with each step. She was too forgiving. She should hate him. Everyone should hate him.

“Allura, that’s not the point!” he almost shouted. “The point is that it happened! It happened when it shouldn’t have! I let him into the gang. I trusted him! I told him plans that I hadn’t even told Keith and that...that fucking snake was working for the other side this whole time! No wonder they took over one of the warehouses.

“Allura…,” He paused in his pacing to face her and it's a look she never saw in him before. His eyes were raging and his fists were balled at his sides. “Allura, I let that man drive you home.” His voice was dangerously low. Allura knew that if he could, he would kill that man all over again. “H-he, Allura he could have…”

“But he didn’t,” she interjected. “I’m here. Everyone is here. The only one who paid for his actions was him, Takashi.” She moved to leap off the desk so she could approach him but Shiro was quick to keep her from getting down barefooted by blocking her in.

Her hands cupped his cheeks to him his eyes on her. “Listen to me. You are a great leader, Takashi. You would gladly lay down your life for anyone in this city and they all know it. Mistakes happen, and they are going to happen again. But that’s what it takes to be a great leader. You fall, you learn, and you get back up.”

He searched her eyes and at that moment, he knew she was telling him nothing but the truth. If it was even possible, he found himself falling more in love with her. He bent down slightly and pressed his lips against hers. She was his favorite flavor and his most dangerous addiction. She always knew exactly what to say to bring him back.

He wrapped his arms around her small frame and kissed the top of her head. “I love you so fucking much,” he said. “You know that?”

She giggled and she returned his embrace. “Of course I do, but I love to hear you say it,” she said as she kissed the underside of his jaw. “Over and over again.”

“I’ll tell you as many times as I can for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes to satisfy you.”

Shiro’s eyes widened when she suddenly squeezed his backside through his pants. “I know what else will satisfy me,” she purred deviously.

Shiro chuckled before he reached to the side of him to bring out the phone she had hidden away in the drawer. “Just let me make few calls and then I’ll satisfy everything you need.”

She frowned and reached out to take the phone away. “It’s almost 1 in the morning!” she scolded. “Let people do what you should be doing; sleeping.”

“But, Allura,” he countered. He thought he sounded manly but he’s more than positive that it came out as a whine.

“Takashi.” Her tone told him that the conversation was over. When she caught the look on his face, she let her fingers walk up his chest and her voice took on a sultry whisper. “Relax. Things can be worked out in the morning. For now,” she paused as she kissed the corner of his lips and traced his jawline in the way she knew drove him mad. “Come to bed.”

She knew is ultimate weakness and she was never afraid to fight dirty. “Fine, but don’t blame me if everyone sleeps in tomorrow.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she replied with a wink before she let him go and started to pack up their late dinner. He downed the rest of his tea as well as the rest of hers before he helped pack up rest of the food and organized it back into the bag she brought it in with.

“I think that’s everything,” he said and swung the bag over his forearm. He bent down slightly to pick Allura up and drape her over his shoulder and the surprised squeak she made brought a smile to his face.

“I can walk you know?” she said from her upside down position over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I know, you don’t need to tell me, Princess,” he responded with a boyish grin and he resettled his grip on the back of her thighs. He walked towards and out the door before he paused. “Get the light, will ya?” And he heard random slapping against the wall until he heard her hand make contact with the light switch.

As soon as he entered the foyer, other members of his crew stood up to greet him and he settled them down with a look. “You guys head to bed. You can crash here if you want. Tomorrow, we’re having a meeting at 7:30, sharp.” A cough from Allura made him roll his eyes. “Fine, 8:30.” He handed Rylo the bag and instructed him to put it in the fridge before he ascended the stairs.

Behind him, Allura wished Shiro’s crew goodnight before she grabbed a handful of his backside to show them who the real boss was. “You’re totally going to pay for that, Princess,” she heard him grumble.

“Can’t wait,” she said with a giggle.

[adolphuslongestaffe]

Like it Always Should Have Been

How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with him? The answer, of course, is you don’t. Because in real life, people don’t fall in love with their best friend and hide it for years and let it fester like an infected tooth until every smile hurts so bad they give up and confess just to be rid of the ache. If they do, it doesn’t end in a nice way. Friends don’t tend to respond well to, “I’ve been secretly in love with you all these years when you thought I was your best friend. Surprise!” Because that’s creepy as fuck.

But what if you really were his best friend and you loved him like a brother, and those other feelings were something that grew out of that. Slowly, over long years of seeing each other through trial and hardship, sticking together through thick and thin, and by the time you even admitted it to yourself, you were too far gone to do anything about it. And what if you felt like a piece of shit for letting him think he was still just a pal to you, so you decided to tell him, no matter how he might react, because you had to get it off your chest.

And what if you kept meaning to tell him, but every time you were just getting up enough courage to do it, a war happened. Or you were kidnapped by Nazis. Or you fell off a train and sort of but not really died and then came back brainwashed seventy-odd years later and tried really hard to kill him. Like, seriously, you shot him a bunch of times, then beat the living shit out of him with your cybernetic arm. You did drag his heavy ass out of that river, though. Hypothetically.

The point is, people don’t secretly fall in love with their best friend, wait seven decades to tell him, do all that shit with the Nazis and kind of dying and coming back and shooting and punching, and then confess their love and expect to get back a “holy shit I love you too” and live happily ever after. It doesn’t happen. It especially doesn’t happen when your best friend is Captain fucking America, and you’ve been sleeping on his pull-out sofa for three months because, technically, you’re a dead Soviet assassin with no credit score or bank account, and that doesn’t look great on a rental application.

This was absolutely not the situation James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, formerly-deceased war hero and currently-unemployed ex-assassin found himself in. Even if he had found himself in such a hypothetical conundrum, he would never have dreamed of admitting it to said hypothetical best friend, because, as previously stated, that doesn’t get you a happy ending in real life.

In real life, you shut the fuck up, be grateful you’re not locked up in a steel box for the safety of your fellow man, and try not to stare at Steve’s perfect ass while he’s cooking steak and eggs. Again. It’s like he doesn’t eat anything else. Hypothetically.

Bucky, being the pragmatic, real-life type of man, swallowed his excellent black coffee and Steve’s passable steak—and godawful scrambled eggs—and kept his feelings and his eyes to himself. Just like his dad taught him. In 1935. Because that’s what real men do. Or, they did in the 1930s. He’s seen an awful lot of men crying and talking about their feelings since he woke up out of that fucking nightmare.

“Hm?” he said, emerging from his reverie just in time to realize he was being spoken to, and hadn’t heard a word of it. “Sorry, what’d you say? My mind was…wandering.”

“You’re getting senile, old man,” Steve said, waving the cast-iron pan at him. “I asked if you want some more eggs. I made plenty.”

“Oh, no thanks. I’m watching my figure, you know?”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Buck,” Steve admonished, with that mixture of paternal firmness and youthful buoyancy that only he seemed capable of. He walked over to the table and scraped another helping onto Bucky’s plate anyway. “Your body is an engine and if you don’t fuel it properly, it won’t keep running. Now eat your eggs.”

Steve sat down and dug into his breakfast with hearty enthusiasm, while Bucky took up his fork and poked at the yellowish pile on his plate. He’d just gotten up enough resolve to shove a rubbery wad into his mouth and start chewing through them, when Steve burst out laughing.

“What?” Bucky frowned. “What’s the joke, wise guy?”

“Buck, why don’t you just admit you hate the eggs?”

Bucky blinked. “Why don’t I—wait, you knew?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, though his laughter. “I’ve been watching you struggling to choke them down for three months.”

“Oh, I am going to kick your ass to the moon, Rogers, you rotten little sneak! Why didn’t you say something before?”

“I wanted to see how long you’d keep it up, but it’s just getting mean at this point. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I was being polite!” Bucky exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Your face wasn’t. You’re not very hard to read, for a spy. Everything in there is all out here,” Steve replied, gesturing toward Bucky’s cranium and face respectively.

Bucky’s traitorous face, of course, flushed with heat at the idea that what was going on in his head was so plainly visible to Steve, which made his war buddy and best friend laugh even harder.

“I wasn’t a spy, I was an assassin,” he grumbled into his mug. “You don’t have to hide your feelings from people you’re gonna kill anyway. Sorry about the eggs. I didn’t want to offend you.”

“It’s just eggs, why would I be offended?” Steve said, hopping up to clear the dishes. “You have to learn to say what you’re thinking, though, Buck. That’s how people are nowadays. They expect you to be a lot more forward than the way we were taught. Otherwise, they won’t know what you really want.”

Bucky decided he’d best disregard this advice for the moment, since what he really wanted was for Steve to stop talking and put his mouth on his mouth, and there was no way he’d ever heard of to say that kind of thing to another man without getting socked for it. He turned to look out the window, lest his apparently legible face divulge this tidbit to his friend, and sipped morosely at his coffee.

“How you doing?” Steve asked, as he reseated himself at the table with a glass of milk, which he still insisted upon drinking with every meal. “You feeling up to this thing tonight?”

From anyone else, this kind of treatment would’ve made Bucky’s stomach turn. Steve, however, had more than earned the right to frankly address his condition, and his particular brand of steady, tenacious concern didn’t carry the same sting as would the saccharine sympathy of others.

“I’m doing as well as usual,” Bucky answered stiffly, pre-WWII habits regarding talking about feelings being hard to break. “I’m not sure about the thing tonight, though. Dr. Barenbaum thinks I need to try some low pressure social situations before I jump headfirst into trying to make friends.”

“That’s why it’s perfect,” Steve smiled. “It’s just a casual get-together. They do this kind of thing all the time.”

“I don’t know if hanging out with the Avengers in Stark Tower counts as low pressure. Maybe for you, but you’re Captain America. I’m just…the guy who tried to kill Captain America.”

“No, you’re my best friend, a war hero, and an original Howling Commando. There wouldn’t even be an Avengers without you guys and every one of them knows it.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, wavering.

“Come on, Buck, you have to come,” Steve cajoled, amping up the intensity of his already devastating smile. “I told them you’d be there. Besides, I need another old guy around to not get anyone’s references with me.”

“Ugh…alright, fine. But I’m gonna sit in the corner and look really dark and broody the whole time.”

“You will if you want me to entertain everyone with stories about you from when we were kids. I think they’d enjoy hearing about the time you threw up on the Cyclone at Coney Island.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

“You’re a real hardass, Rogers, you know that?”

“That’s what they tell me,” Steve said, looking eminently pleased with himself.

Bucky raised a doubtful eyebrow “Do they really?”

“Well…no. But they would if I weren’t so intimidating. I am their boss, you know.”

“Yeah, you keep saying.”

“And you keep not being impressed by it. Would it kill you to fake a little starstruck giddiness?”

“I think it might.”

“Ok, but you have to at least act like you think I’m cool at the party.”

“Nope,” Bucky said, getting up to carry his mug to the sink. “They’ll see right through that.”

“I changed my mind,” Steve called after him. “You’re uninvited.”

“Well, now I’m definitely coming.”

    Several hours later, just after sunset, Bucky found himself standing before the entrance to the massively ostentatious Stark Tower, wrought in glittering steel and glass, and erected in the heart of most famous city in the world, a monument to technological superiority (not to mention its owner’s titanic ego). He followed Steve across the palatial lobby to the bank of elevators, and they began their ascent.

As they drew nearer the stratosphere, he found his courage swiftly waning. He had tried to kill a lot of these people, and it wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect some of them to be harboring some negative feelings about that. To add to this, was his difficulty with anxiety and hypervigilance, especially in crowds, since the Soviet sickos torn his brain apart and rebuilt him as a killing machine.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said, halting abruptly as they stepped off the elevator. “It seemed like an ok idea before we got here, but I’m, uh…kind of panicking.”

Steve smiled encouragingly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, I promise. If it’s not, just tell me and we’ll get out of here, ok? I’m not trying to torture you.”

Compelled by Steve’s charismatic sanguinity, Bucky reluctantly allowed himself to be led through the marble-floored foyer into a rather large, posh lounge. The place was already fairly full, mostly with people he didn’t recognize at all, sitting at tables and on couches, or standing about in groups and pairs, laughing and chatting energetically. There was jazzy piano music coming from somewhere, and the wall on the far end was basically a huge window, with doors that opened on a wide patio.

“Hey old timers,” a smooth, smoky voice said beside them. “Glad you could make it.”

Bucky turned to see a beautiful, auburn-haired woman in a tight, black cocktail dress, smiling up at Steve.

“Hey, Nat, you look lovely this evening,” Steve said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “You remember Bucky.”

“I do.” Natasha turned her big, green eyes on him. “Nice to see you again, Bucky.”

“Likewise,” Bucky said awkwardly. “I’m, uh…sorry I shot you.”

“Well, I’d say I’m sorry I tried to strangle you with piano wire, but I’m doing a new thing where I don’t lie unless I have to for work.” Natasha said, with a sly twinkle in her eye. She held out her hand. “Let’s call it even?”

“Deal,” Bucky laughed, shaking her proffered hand.

“So, there are a lot of people here you guys don’t know, but they’re not that important,” she said, getting right to business. “The team is scattered around. Sam and Clint are at the bar arguing about whether pinball is a legitimate e-sport, Thor’s over there by the fireplace, Wanda is smoking on the patio, and Tony is late.”

“Tony is not late because this is Tony’s party,” Tony’s voice cut in. The three turned to see him strolling up behind them. “Hey look, it’s the Captain and Tennille!”

Steve and Bucky stared blankly at him.

“The Captain and Tennille,” he repeated.

Steve cocked his head perplexedly. “Um. He’s Bucky.”

“Come on, that was funny,” Tony sighed. “Nat, tell them how funny that was.”

“Eh,” Natasha shrugged.

“Traitor. Am I allowed to fire you?”

“Nope,” she grinned. “And Steve knows exactly who the Captain and Tennille are. He was fucking with you. Which actually was pretty funny.”

“Thank you, Nat,” Steve beamed.

“I really don’t know who they are,” Bucky offered. “Are they Avengers?”

“Musicians,” Tony corrected. “Well. Sort of.”

“Hey Nat, who’s that guy talking to Thor?” Steve asked, indicating to the fireplace a few yards away, where the god of thunder was engaged in conversation with another tall, blonde, athletic-looking man. “He looks familiar.”

“Oh, that’s the unhinged psychopath Nat keeps letting into my house,” Tony answered for her. “What is he doing here, Nat?”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Natasha said. “You don’t want him here, go tell his Asgardian boyfriend yourself.”

Tony made a sour face. “Boyfriend, huh? Great. Thor has bad taste in men, so now we’re stuck with him and the alien tapeworm.”

“I thought Thor liked women,” Steve said, frowning thoughtfully.

“He does,” Natasha laughed. “People can be bisexual, Steve.”

“Bisexual?” Steve and Bucky asked in unison.

“And that’s my cue,” Tony interjected. “Enjoy your sex-ed talk, have some free booze, and try not to break anything too expensive. Oh, and don’t kill anyone. It’s a nightmare for the PR department.”

“Later, Tony,” Natasha called after him, as he retreated into the crowd. She turned back to Steve and Bucky, who were still peering curiously at Thor and his male companion. “Hey grandpas, I don’t really have to explain to you what bisexual means, do I?”

“Of course not!” Steve said, crossing his arms on his chest. “We are adults.”

“Yeah, adults who totally know what that means,” Bucky agreed, adopting a similar posture.

“Even if we didn’t, we could figure it out from context clues,” Steve continued staunchly.

“But we definitely did,” Bucky added.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “If you two get any more adorable, I might actually puke. I’m going to go check on Wanda. I’ll catch up with you in a little while, ok?”

“Ok, Nat. See ya,” Steve said cheerfully.

“It means liking men and women, right?” Bucky asked, once she was out of earshot. “I’ve actually never heard that before.”

“Neither have I. I mean, I knew that was a thing, but I didn’t know there was word for it.” Steve’s blue eyes flickered over Bucky’s face, then quickly away. “Let’s go get a drink, huh?”

Bucky felt an odd little wrench in his gut at this, and he cast an apprehensive glance at his friend as he followed him to the bar. What was that look about? Did Steve suspect something about him? As his anxiety spiked, of course, his dull, reticent demeanor returned. Fortunately, Sam and Clint spotted Steve and waved them over as soon as they had ordered.

“Hey, Cap,” Clint said, as they approached with their drinks. “Tell me you’re not actually drinking an old fashioned.”

“That’s right,” Steve said, with mock sternness. “What about you? Do they make a drink called a mouthy punk?”

“You’re pretty sharp, old man,” Sam laughed, as both men shook hands with Steve. “Hey, Buck, how you doing? Keeping this guy out of trouble?”

“I try, but he’s a real pain in the ass,” Bucky said. “I’m thinking about putting him in a home.”

Sam and Clint voiced hearty approval of this idea, and the ice thus broken, quickly drew Steve into their lively conversation. Bucky was more than happy with this arrangement, since it meant he didn’t have to do much, aside from hide in his drink and make sure to smile when everyone else did.

Things proceeded comfortably enough for a while, but he found that his energy was so engaged in not whipping his head around to investigate every flash of movement in his peripheral vision, he didn’t have any to expend in blocking out the din of voices and laughter, punctuated incessantly by the clinking of glassware. His head began to swim, and his jacket suddenly felt overly warm and constricting. He couldn’t take it off without exposing his very noticeable metallic arm, however, so he persevered as long as he could.

Finally, beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He nudged Steve and said he was going out to get some fresh air, then escaped to the patio as quickly as he could without attracting attention. Steve looked after him, but let him go, understanding his need for a moment alone to decompress.

Once out of the stifling atmosphere of lights and motion and noise, the tight feeling in Bucky’s chest eased somewhat. He chose a spot well away from the few other people who were outside, and leaned on the patio railing, letting the cool night air wash over his clammy skin.

Calling to the mind a coping technique his doctor—or therapist or whatever they were calling headshrinkers these days—had been teaching him, he took some deep, meditative breaths, and concentrated on being aware of each part of his body, one by one. Gradually, the vague nausea dissipated, and his hands stopped shaking. The human one did, at least. The cybernetic prosthesis was always steady as stone.

He’d trained himself many years ago to stop reaching up reflexively to clutch his shoulder every time he thought of the thing, but that didn’t stop the mangled nerve fibers from making their displeasure known, with hot, itching little needles of pain. He sighed and stretched the arm out to the side, then across his chest, then dropped it and shook it out, till the nerves calmed down and returned to proper operation.

His enhanced hearing made him aware of a purposeful step headed in his direction, well before its owner got near him. He leaned on the railing again, body relaxed, pretending not to notice. It’s not an enemy, here. No need to wind up your muscles for a fight. No need to brace your pain receptors against the slip of a hidden blade.

The steps halted a few feet back and Steve’s voice said, “Hey, Buck,” before he came closer. A habit developed through years of familiarity with soldiers who’d seen heavy combat, and a wise procedure for approaching jumpy PTSD cases possessed of superhuman strength and speed, and trained to kill without thinking.

“Hey,” Bucky said, keeping his eyes on the city lights, twinkling far below like a chaos of multicolored stars.

Steve leaned on the railing beside him. “This city’s gotten so big since we were kids. I hardly recognize it.”

“I don’t think I’d recognize it from up here anyway. Even if my memory of it wasn’t buried under a hundred layers of coordinates and terrain maps and blueprints of every manmade structure from here to New Rochelle.”

“They did that? Put all that stuff in your head?”

“Yep. Every major city in the world. Sort of takes the thrill out of exploring new places.”

“At least you’ll never have to worry about getting lost,” Steve said, with a resigned sigh.

Bucky cast a sidelong glance at him. “I’m ok on my own, you know. You should be inside with your friends.”

Steve shook his head. “They’re not my friends. They’re my team.”

“Oh, give it a rest. Your team are your friends. You’re the one who always says the best teams are the ones that bond.”

“The best teams are the ones who do their jobs. A leader who lets emotional attachments affect his judgement is not doing his job.”

Bucky bridled at this, detecting something personal in it. “So, you weren’t doing your job when you risked your life to pull me out of that Nazi prison camp?”

“That was different. I didn’t put anyone in danger but myself.”

“What about on the helicarrier? Millions of lives were in danger, then. So why didn’t you just kill me?”

Steve gave him a look, then turned back to stare out at the city, his jaw muscles visibly working beneath his skin.

“Exactly,” Bucky persisted. “You didn’t do it because we were friends. Because you cared about me.”

“We are still friends and I still care about you. I don’t regret it,” Steve replied flatly. “But it was extremely reckless, you’re right. Thank you for reminding me.”

“Don’t fucking do that!” Bucky said, with sudden heat. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, Buck?” Steve asked, turning to face him again. “Please tell me, because I’m honestly at a loss.”

“I mean that I’m stronger than you and faster than you—I’m a literal combat machine—but I could never be Captain fucking America, and do you know why? Because I’m not a leader. You are. You care about people and it shows in everything you do. That’s why they’re willing to follow you, no matter what. So don’t give me that ‘they’re my team not my friends’ shit. They are your friends, and that’s a good thing.”

Steve gazed at him silently for a long moment. “You know…being an assassin has sure done a number on your language, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Rogers,” Bucky retorted. “How about I show you how colorful I can get.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow. “Be my guest. I’ll smack the sass right out of your mouth, soldier.”

“You can try,” Bucky said, with a wicked grin. “Hit me, assho—”

Steve’s fist flew like a shot toward his face, but the blow never connected. Quicker than sight, Bucky’s cybernetic hand caught his wrist and clamped down like a vise. In fractions of a second, he had twisted Steve’s arm behind his back, flipped him around, and pinned him to the balcony railing with his body.

“Come on, Steve,” he laughed, releasing the hold. “You’re not even trying.”

Steve turned around and leaned his back against the railing, chafing the wrist Bucky had twisted with his other hand. “We can’t play-fight like that, Buck. We’re not kids anymore.”

Bucky’s smile dissolved as he studied his friend’s face. Steve kept his eyes fixed on the ground, avoiding his gaze, but his brow was furrowed and there was a flush of color in his angular cheeks. So it was that. It must be. He must have perceived Bucky’s feelings for him, and now things were going to be weird and tense and fucked up between them. Bucky would rather die than have this lifelong friendship disintegrate that way.

“I didn’t mean to—” he began, then immediately realized there was no way to disembark this conversational train except to jump off before a full-on crash. “I’m sorry.”

Steve lifted his head to squint up at him. “What? Why are you sorry?”

“I thought…I hurt you or something,” Bucky said lamely.

“Are you kidding me?” Steve smirked, the spark instantly jumping back into his blue eyes. “Remember when you shot me a bunch of times and I still kicked your ass?”

“I mean, it wasn’t a bunch of times. And I kicked your ass. And you watch your language!”

“You know I just lecture people about swearing because I think it’s funny, right?”

“Yes. I knew that. Obviously.”

“You didn’t.”

“I should have,” Bucky grinned. “You’re still the same sarcastic little shit under all that muscle.”

“I am,” Steve said, in uncharacteristically serious tone. “And you’re still the guy who took care of me after mom died, and made sure I didn’t get killed for shooting my mouth off to the wrong people. Everything has changed but you, Buck. You’re the only one who comes from the world I remember. You’re all I have left.”

Bucky’s voice choked in his throat at this unexpected onslaught, and he could only nod in response.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you when you brought up the helicarrier,” Steve continued. “I was angry because you made me see something I didn’t want to admit. It wasn’t that I endangered lives hoping to get through to you. It was that I wouldn’t have done the same for anyone else. So, maybe those people on my team are my friends, but not like you. There’s no one I care about more than you. I love you.”

“I know,” Bucky said, a bit hoarsely. “There’s no one I care about more than you, either.”

He leaned on the railing beside his friend and clapped him on the shoulder in a companionable fashion, thinking this was the end of the interchange, but Steve went on.

“You know, for all the trouble my mouth got me into, that was the one thing I regretted not saying,” he said, with a sad smile. “Then I thought you died. A couple of times. When you came back…it was like I’d been given another chance. No one gets another chance. I couldn’t risk you dying again without ever knowing what you mean to me. Anyway, thanks for letting me get it off my chest. And for not freaking out.”

“Get what off your chest?” Bucky asked, bewildered. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t know how much clearer I can be than ‘I love you’, Buck.”

Feeling himself poised on the bleeding edge of something terrifying and spectacular, and finally goaded past the point of caution, Bucky took Steve by both shoulders and looked fiercely into his exasperatingly handsome face.

“Listen to me very carefully, Steve,” he said slowly. “There is a huge difference between ‘I love you’ and ‘I am in love with you.’ Which one are you saying?”

“Ohhhh, got it,” Steve nodded. “I see how that’s confusing now. The second one. I’m in love with you.”

Bucky’s stomach lurched, pulse pounding in his ears, as the concrete patio seemed to tilt beneath his feet. He already had a hold of Steve’s shoulders, or he may have actually lost his balance and fallen. Instead, he let his weight pitch forward into his friend, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Steve’s arms came up to encircle his waist as Bucky’s mouth covered his, devouring it with half-starved desperation.

Steve gasped and groaned in his throat. He’d been entirely unprepared for the intensity of the kiss, and the crushing force of Bucky’s embrace. He probably should have been, having experienced his friend’s power firsthand in a more violent context. In all fairness, though, he’d never been kissed by a man before, let alone a superhuman man with almost a century of stifled desire burning in his body like rocket fuel.

He let go, losing himself entirely in the moment he had longed for since he was a teenaged kid with a crush on his handsome, older best friend, but no words with which to articulate it, even to himself. Strong arms pulling him close, bodies pressed together, breathing the same breath. Holding and touching and tasting him, until he permeated every sense, and there was nothing in the world but them, together. Like it always should have been.

Bucky pulled away at last, leaving him flushed and hazy-eyed, panting through wet, kiss-bruised lips. Intoxicated and reeling himself, he buried his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, inhaling his masculine scent, and feeling the reassuring warmth and solidity of his body. Steve’s arms tightened around him and his chest vibrated with a soft laugh.

“What are you laughing at, you snarky little shit,” Bucky mumbled into his shoulder.

“It’s just that, I’m a hundred years old, I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen, and I only heard the term bisexual for the first time tonight. That’s pretty funny.”

Bucky lifted his head to look at him. “Is that what you are?”

“I guess so. Is that ok?”

“As long as you’re aware that your ass belongs to me, now.”

“Uh, no, your ass belongs to me,” Steve retorted, sliding his hand down onto the specified area of his friend’s anatomy.

“Hey! Cut that out!” Bucky said, swatting it away. “I’m not that kind of guy, mister.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? What kind are you?”

“Why don’t you take me home and find out.”

Bucky leaned in for another kiss, but at this perhaps belated moment, it occurred to him that the wall dividing the lounge and the very well-lit patio was comprised entirely of glass panels, making it essentially one massive, floor to ceiling window.

“Shit,” he winced. “You don’t think anyone saw us, do you?”

Steve turned to look toward the lounge, where it appeared that nearly every patron was watching through the glass, like he and Bucky were fish in an aquarium. He smiled and gave a sheepish wave, at which point the entire place erupted in thunderous applause, complete with shouts of “get it, Cap!” and “God bless America!” and other expressions of ribald encouragement.

He turned back to Bucky and shook his head. “Nope. I don’t think they did.”