#i was waiting for them to burn their head on the space heater and stop

[rayvern-sheep]

I feel like i need to rewatch the first 3 episodes of season 2 again w/ this new info…

Or is this just smthn that was going on for this one episode. Cos istg…

[ashyyslashy]

million dollar baby - kendall roy x f! reader

You go on a blind date with Kendall Roy circa his college graduation and learn the truth beneath his public front.

word count: 4.5k

warnings: language, drug use, sex while intoxicated, piv sex, discussions of infertility

You anxiously drummed your fingers on the back of the car seat in front of you. Bass music throbbed in your ears, barely drowning out the voice of your taxi driver blabbering to someone on the phone. You were used to overeager drivers pushing the speed limit, but this guy seemed to pride himself on going at least 5 under at all times. Worst of all, the heater in his car was broken, leaving you shivering within the fogged-up windows.

You kept glancing down at the “I’m outside” text on your BlackBerry, received a minute ago and counting. Unable to delay it any further, you typed out “I’m just a few blocks away”, and hit send. Several moments later, it buzzed with his response: “Don’t keep me waiting.”

As the taxi slowed towards the restaurant, you squinted out of the window to search for your date. Truth be told, you were wholly unsure what to expect of him. From what your friend Cecily had told you when she set the two of you up, Kendall Roy could either show up to a date wearing a tuxedo or a tracksuit. 

You slipped the driver his fare and scrambled out of the backseat before the car had even fully stopped, hurriedly pulling your bunched-up dress down. You cautiously stepped onto the curb in your knee-high boots.

“I’m here,” you texted Kendall as you made your way towards the restaurant’s signage. A bustling crowd was gathered in front for dinner, obscuring your view of the entrance. Heat lamps burned outside with customers flocking around them as they warmed themselves. 

You didn’t receive a reply. Your eyes scanning the area, you spied a lone figure standing away from the mass of bodies. He was dressed in a white shirt and black slacks. A cloud of smoke billowed around him, his fingers holding a cigarette to his lips. 

He matched the description your friend had provided: average height and a head of coiffed dark hair. As you approached him, his features became more evident, resembling the photo you’d seen. Your gaze flicked from his dark chocolate eyes to his angular nose, his long face bearing an expression absent of any emotion. 

“You’re Kendall, right?” 

His eyes narrowed, the end of his cigarette crackling. 

“Yeah. Hey. You finally showed up.” His voice was deep and distinctly authoritative, speaking to you with all the air of someone at a business meeting. 

“Sorry, the taxi was really slow.”

He nodded, taking one last puff of his cigarette before dropping it on the slush-covered cement. He ground it down with the heel of his dress shoe, his movements effortless and fluid. 

“Shall we?” he asked, striding towards the entrance of the restaurant without waiting for a response. You were compelled to fall in step behind him - you guessed that a lot of people fell prey to the magnetic force that seemed to orbit him and his family. 

He deftly maneuvered his way through the crowd and walked up to the hostess. She didn’t notice him at first, leaning over her coworker in conversation. He cleared his throat abruptly. Her head jerked up, and she blinked a few times in succession as she took in the sight of him and the way he’d forcefully inserted himself into the space.

“Sorry, sir. How can I help you?” she asked, her tone cool. 

“Reservation for Roy,” he said in a confident, clear voice, fixing her with an intense stare.

“Alright, let me check that out for you. For 8:30?”

“Yeah. I know we’re a bit late,” he said, placing a pointed emphasis on the last word, “but I know you guys have a grace period. So, I’m hoping we can get seated ASAP.” 

A look of brief irritation flashed across the hostess’ face as she picked up two menus. “No problem. Follow me.”

“Ladies first,” he directed towards you, gesturing for you to go ahead of him. You walked behind the hostess, feeling vulnerable to his eyes through the exposed skin on your backless dress.

The hostess guided you to a secluded area at the far corner of the dining room - whether he’d requested the privacy or she had opted to spare herself from Kendall being in her eye line, you were unsure. You thanked her, taking your seat across from your date. 

“Can we start off with two Smirnoffs on the rocks?” Kendall asked.

“Oh, I don’t drink. I’ll have an iced tea,” you said quickly. 

“One Smirnoff and an iced tea then.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably as the hostess walked away. 

“Have you, um, been here before?” you inquired, studying him over the top of your menu. 

“Of course. I take all my dates here,” he replied in an indecipherable tone. 

“Oh. Haha,” you deadpanned.

“No, seriously, I do.” He paused, before letting out a curt laugh at your disbelieving expression. “Come on. I’m fucking with you, you know that, right?”

“Hard to tell.” Your face burned. 

“Yeah, I’ve been here a few times. Cool if I order for the both of us? I know which dishes are the best.”

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to hide the disbelief in your voice.

His eyes studied your face. “So, Cecily wasn't wrong. You’re very pretty.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, your glossed lips curving into a hesitant smile. 

“I hear you want to go into politics?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You know, starting out as an ATN anchor wouldn't be so bad,” he said. “I’m sure we could work something out. You know who I am, right?”

“Yup,” you said, forcefully popping the “p”. “Cecily told me all about you.” 

Clearly not enough.

“Cool. Now that I’m out of college, I’m ready to start becoming more involved in Waystar.”

He looked at you expectantly, waiting for the ego stroke. 

You settled on: “Party days are finally behind you?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He flashed you his first grin of the night. 

“Pardon my reach.” A voice appeared at your shoulder, leaning over you to place the drinks on the table, ice clinking in the glasses. 

“Alright. What can I get for you two?” The waiter plastered a smile onto their face and pulled out their notepad. 

You slid the iced tea towards yourself and took a long sip, tuning out Kendall’s voice as he recited your joint order to the waiter.

He focused his eyes on you once they’d left, searching your face once again. You weren’t sure what he was trying to find. You got the impression that he was inept at reading people when so much was centered around himself. 

“Food should be good,” he said simply.

“Mm.” You were about to excuse yourself to the bathroom when his phone rang.

He flipped open his Blackberry screen and squinted at the number. “Oh. I should take this. I’ll be right back.”

“No problem,” you said with a polite smile, trying to disguise your relief.

As soon as he was out of sight, you flipped out your own phone and furiously typed out a message.

“U didn’t tell me Kendall was the WORST. WTF?!?!”

Cecily’s reply came within the minute:

“No!!!! He is an acquired taste but I thought the 2 of u might click ):”

Your fingers raced to fire back: "He’s so entitled."

“Growing up rich will do that 2 u,” She wrote.  “Seriously though, he has a good heart. Give him a chance, 4 me?” 

“Ugh,” you murmured to yourself. 

“Fine.”

You closed the phone in frustration and stuffed it into your purse, before noticing a pair of black loafers on the ground next to you. 

You glanced up to meet Kendall’s eyes. He looked as if he didn't quite know how he’d gotten there. Suddenly so much smaller, his arms curled towards his chest and his phone hung limply from his hand. A lone figure amidst the clinking silverware and pleasant conversation. 

“Um, hey..” He said, his voice shaky. His bottom lip was wavering almost imperceptibly.  “I’m not really hungry anymore. Can, uh, can we just go back to my place?” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You shook the grease-soaked paper bag, the remainder of the fries rustling around inside. You balanced it on your lap as you sat gingerly on Kendall’s art deco sofa. 

“Do you want any more?” you asked softly. 

You were answered by the sound of snorting and sniffing from beside you. Then, a nasally: “Nah, I'm good.”

You tried to keep your eyes away from the lines of cocaine on his phone screen. The two of you had sat in silence on the car ride there, save for him asking your McDonald’s order. It had felt so strange to pull through the drive-thru in one of Logan Roy’s many limos, driven by a stuffy, well-dressed chauffeur. 

Kendall still hadn’t spoken to you when you got to his apartment, descending upon bags of white powder he had stashed away. He’d wordlessly offered it to you, and when you vehemently shook your head no, he seemed to interpret that as an invitation to consume more for himself.

You chewed on the fries at the bottom of the bag, feeling like the eating noises were deafening. The apartment was eerily silent, punctuated only by snorting from Kendall’s end of the couch. 

“Thanks, for, uh, being chill with this,” he said dumbly, pinching and wiping his nose. You felt relieved to see that all that was left on his phone was the white residue. 

“With the… cocaine?”

“Just all of it, I guess. Sorry.” He turned his head to fix you with his penetrating gaze. 

You guessed this was as close to an apology for his behavior as you were going to receive. Placing the bag on the table, you hesitantly scooted closer to him.  

“Can I ask what happened on that phone call?”

His head snapped away from you again. “I don't really want to talk about that.” 

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He slumped back on the couch. 

Your purse vibrated from a text. You dug through it for your phone, holding back a dazed laugh as you saw the text that flashed across the screen.

From Cecily: How’s it going??

You switched it to silent. 

“Do you want to smoke a blunt?” Kendall blurted.

“Um, is that a good idea? After… You know.” You jerked your head towards the evidence on his phone.

“Yeah, why the fuck not?” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s do it.”

The next thing you knew, you were on his balcony, Kendall’s face illuminated by the skyscrapers and cars passing below. You shivered as the night air chilled you to the bone. 

“Here,” he said, shrugging his jacket off and holding it out to you. 

“Thanks.” Your joint crackling between your fingers, you moved it into the corner of your mouth. You draped Kendall’s jacket over your shoulders and were immediately greeted by the smell of Dior cologne and cigarette smoke. 

“You smoke really sexy,” he said. “Like a James Bond love interest. Mysterious and hot.”

You burst into a mix between a laugh and cough, waving smoke out of your face. “You’re so high right now.”

“So? Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” He inhaled deeply, then blew out a smoke ring. “You do this a lot?”

“Go on dates or smoke weed?” you questioned.

“Um, both, I guess.”

“I’ve only smoked a couple times. With friends. And I go on dates every few weeks or so.” 

“All first dates?” he asked.

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

“Are most of them bad?”

“Kinda.” 

He drew in a deep breath of smoke. “I hope ours doesn’t rank as the worst.” His eyes shined with the vulnerability you’d seen back at the restaurant. As if your opinion held significant weight to him, though you’d known him for less than an hour. As if he couldn't hear one more bad thing tonight. 

“No, of course not. There was one guy who I think was, like, into eugenics?”

“What?” he laughed. 

“Yeah. Like 20 minutes into the date, he said something like,” you deepen your voice, “Doctors say I have the best sperm they’ve ever seen. So I need a healthy wife who’s gonna bear me a shitload of children.”

He let out a curt laugh as a darkness suddenly settled over his expression. Bringing the joint to his mouth, he took another deep inhale. 

“Is something wrong?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at his shift in demeanor. 

“No, no. I just fucking hate guys like that, you know? The way they treat women, like they aren't equals.” The inexplicable passion didn't reach his eyes, as if he was reciting a script. 

“Oh. Yeah, fuck him.” You wrapped Kendall’s jacket more tightly around yourself, an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air. 

“Do you want kids?” he asked after a few moments.

“Uh, I don’t know. Not at this stage of life. But later on, with the right person… maybe,” you replied, your voice nearly drowned out by a gust of wind on the balcony. “What about you?”

“Same,”’ he said tersely. He looked like he wanted to say more, but the joint was in his mouth again before he could. The smoke drifted away in the increasing wind. “You wanna go back inside? Getting pretty cold out here.” 

“Yeah. I’m sorry for taking your jacket.”

“Don’t be. It looks good on you.” He paused. “You should keep it.”

You laughed in disbelief, sliding it off of your shoulders. You caught a glance at the tag - Saint Laurent. “I’m not going to keep this, Kendall.”

You tried to toss it back to him, but he expertly moved out of the way. Your heart dropped as the jacket soared off the balcony and onto the street below. Scrambling to the railing, you watched helplessly as it was swallowed up by the headlights. 

Your knuckles whitened around the railing and you could simultaneously feel the color draining out of your face. “Fuck. Kendall, I’m so sorry.” 

He erupted into laughter behind you. “That was a pretty impressive throw.”

You swiveled around and stared at him in shock, your mouth slightly ajar as you imagined the thousands of dollars being flattened by cars below you. “Huh?”

“Hey,” he said, moving forward and placing his hands on your shoulders. “It’s cute how worried you are, but don't stress. I was going to give it to you anyway.”

“Oh,” was all you could manage. 

“Come on, let’s just go inside.” He stubbed the blunt out on the railing and you copied his movements. His free hand found yours, cold and shaking, and steadied it as he interlocked your fingers. 

You welcomed the warmth that greeted you upon stepping back inside his expansive apartment. You could feel a heady sensation wash over your body, a mix of the heat and marijuana putting you into a hazy state of relaxation. Like Kendall, you didn’t care about the jacket: you wanted to hold onto the comfort that he must come back to every night. You let go of his hand and flopped down onto his couch, flinging off your shoes and closing your eyes.

Cecily’s words appeared behind your eyelids: It’s not his fault he grew up rich.

You wondered if you’d be as much of an asshole as he’d been earlier tonight if you were used to being in a bubble where only your needs mattered. You’d probably laugh too if someone threw a $5,000 jacket over your balcony. His lifestyle was like a numbing agent, keeping him coddled and wanting for nothing. But it seemed like he was trying so hard to pretend that he was serious now that he’d come out of college, with his desire to become involved in Waystar - although you surmised he’d spent most of school in a cocaine-induced stupor.

Did it weigh on him that none of this was his? Or did it not matter where it came from, as long as it was his?

You opened your eyes and glanced over, his back facing you. Your eyes studied the curve of his spine through the fabric of his fitted white shirt. You registered the sound of a needle dropping onto a record, and the thump of hip-hop music filled the room. 

“How vintage of you,” you teased.

“I took this player from my dad. He’d probably be pissed if he saw what I was listening to on it.” He turned to you, his eyes alight with supposed rebellion.

He moved closer until he was standing over you, his face a few inches above yours. You rolled over onto your side, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, and realized you wanted to know how his lips would feel against yours. Before you could change your mind, you reached out to cup his face and brought it towards you, brushing your mouth against his. His lips crashed against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth; he tasted unsurprisingly of cigarettes and vodka, the scent of his cologne again filling your nostrils. 

He clambered on top of you, his pelvis digging into your hips. You smoothed your fingers over his shaggy hair, gelled strands falling into your face and lightly tickling your cheeks. The long, wavy locks felt so inherently boyish as you mussed them up, providing a stark contrast to his attire. You turned your attention to getting rid of that attire, working open the buttons on his pristine white shirt. His body was pale and lean, a light smattering of chest hair coarse underneath your fingertips.

You felt his fingers travel to the back of your dress, tugging on the zipper and sliding it off of your body. He murmured a compliment against your mouth as he ran his hands up your stomach to your breasts, gently squeezing the flesh. 

“You want to move to the bedroom?” he asked softly. 

“Mhmm.” 

He hoisted you up, guiding your legs around his waist as he carried you to his room. Your lips were fixed to his neck the entire way there, leaving marks on the creamy, stubbled skin. 

Kendall deposited you on his bed before going to undo his belt. You sunk into the plush mattress, intoxicated by his luxuries. Reveling in your high, you pulled your panties down, tracing circles on your clit as you watched him finish undressing. He studied you just as intently. Tugging his pants down revealed his hardening cock through the fabric of his Tom Ford boxers. 

You dipped your fingers into your entrance in eager anticipation. He tossed his boxers to the side, allowing his cock to spring free, precum leaking from the tip.

“Come here,” you murmured, moving the decorative pillows out of the way with your free hand.

His arms were around you again, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands traveling across your naked body. You were hopelessly under the spell of Kendall Roy, dying for him to be inside you.

“Please,” you whined. 

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me.” 

He tossed one of the pillows at you. “Use that to show me how much you want it.”

You were too far-gone to be irritated at this obvious power trip. 

“Okay,” you sighed, obediently straddling the throw. You rubbed your bare pussy against the blue velvet, undoubtedly leaving a trail of slick as you ground into it. 

He laid on his side in an emulation of Kate Winslet, pumping his cock as he watched you.

“Are you enjoying the show?” you asked, your question punctuated by a soft moan.

“Very much so.” He smirked. “You can stop now.” You ignored him, continuing to roll your hips against the pillow. He reached across the bed and pulled it out from under you. 

“You’re no fun,” you complained, mourning the loss of friction.

“Wouldn’t you prefer me to the pillow?” He put his arms on either side of your torso, boxing you in. You stared up at his face; his expression was hungering for you and for something inaccessible at the same time. If you were sober, you might have stopped, asked him if he was okay. But your drug-addled brain only had one urge: the ubiquitous urge shared by a frat guy hoping to score.

“Yes,” you admitted breathily.

He responded by lightly teasing his cock against your folds. You let out a noise that was a mixture between frustration and lust. He coaxed your legs into the air, putting you into a spread-eagle position. His eyes locking with yours, he slid inside you with agonizing slowness. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to absorb as much of his body heat as possible as he thrusted into you. You were inches away from his dark, intense eyes, feeling so close to him yet so far away at the same time. You wanted to melt into one another so there was not even the tiniest amount of space between you - your flesh turning into jelly, mixing together with his dripping body into one inseparable mass. To share a hive mind, know the thoughts and emotions he was hiding beneath his well-groomed face, the desire behind each movement of his cock. 

His thrusts were sloppy, wet, unfocused. His hands held your legs in place, allowing him to push into you ever deeper. You were intoxicated by the animalistic scent of his sweat as perspiration ran off his chest onto yours. 

“I’m close,” he murmured, his thrusts increasing in speed.

“Wait, I’m not on birth control,” you protested, momentarily breaking out of your lustful daze. “Pull out first.”

“Don’t worry, I’m shooting blanks anyway.” He said it as casually as if he was telling you the weather, but he was unable to fully mask the fresh pain in his voice. Words faltered on your lips as shock washed over you. 

“So can I just cum in you?” he pressed.

“Y-Yeah.”

He stilled, a grunt escaping his mouth as a feeling of sticky warmth filled you up. Cum dripped out of your pussy and onto his pristine sheets as he slid out. He flopped onto his side next to you, facing away.

You stood up and walked over to the room’s adjoining bathroom, locking the door behind you.

What the fuck? You mouthed at yourself in the mirror. You smoothed your hair and wiped away your smeared makeup, trying to remove all evidence of a tryst that had soured. You’d blame the weed and forget all your misplaced desperation and affection for a man who didn’t even have the decency to offer to help clean you up. 

You sat down on his heated Toto toilet to empty everything out. When you stood up to flush, you found yourself at eye-level with Logan Roy. He wore a smile that didn’t quite reach the rest of his face, begrudgingly posing in a newspaper clipping from 1980 which marked the billionaire’s founding of Royco. A clipping that was, strangely, framed and affixed above the toilet in Kendall’s apartment. 

You imagined Kendall standing in front of this toilet every day during his American Psycho morning routine, staring up at his father. Dad, am I good enough for you? Do I piss like a man? A slave to the judgment of his God. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

You scanned the expensive products littered haphazardly across the bathroom counter before lathering your hands in his Aesop soap. You envied the suds and water washing down the drain of the stone vessel sink, wishing you could disappear as easily. Checking your appearance in the mirror one more time, you unlocked the door and cautiously ventured back into the bedroom. 

Kendall’s back was still facing you, his limbs splayed out awkwardly across the bed. He almost appeared to be shaking despite the warmth of the apartment.  

“Um, do you want me to stay?” you asked quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

“Whatever you want,” he murmured into the pillow. His voice was thick with tears.

Damn it.

You didn't owe him anything, but you still couldn't bear to leave him like this. Tentatively, you laid beside him, reaching for his hand. He crossed his fingers through yours. You flinched at the sensation of his clammy palm. 

“The call I took at dinner, it was the sperm bank telling me my sample wasn't viable,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. 

Your stomach plummeted to the floor. It was as if all the blanks of the night had been suddenly filled in. Every strange reaction, forlorn look, shifty glance. “I'm so sorry.”

He rolled over to face the ceiling. He stared at it for several moments as if trying to decipher something in the creases of the paint. “It was a stupid dare by my friend to donate it. He thought it'd be funny if Logan Roy had some nobody heir out there somewhere and he never knew.” He sniffled. “Anarchy and all that shit, right? Well, now he won’t have an heir at all. At least not from me.”

“There are other ways, Kendall,” you comforted.

“I know my family. None of them will be the right way.” 

You snuck a glance at his red-rimmed eyes, feeling your pull towards his lifestyle fade into obscurity. In his world of excess, there was a constant demand for more, and he was never quite enough. Just laying beside him felt stifling. The massive bedroom was closing in on you. 

You waited for him to say something else, but all you heard coming from his side of the bed was soft, steady breathing. You weren’t going to wait for him to regain consciousness. You were going to take this chance to leave, doubting that he’d ever contact you again and feeling guilty about not contacting him first. 

You threw one last look at his crumpled form before leaving to collect your purse from the living room. You were left still slightly buzzed, consumed by the odd combination of human emotions that you surmised kept zoos in business: pity for the caged animal mixed with a sick, guilty fascination at the spectacle of it all. As you boarded the elevator down to the ground floor, you pulled your phone out and stared blankly at your chat with Cecily, wondering what the fuck you were going to tell her. Your head buried in your Blackberry, you almost didn’t hear the voice calling out to you as you pushed out of the revolving doors.

“Miss. Miss!” You whirled around to see the chauffeur from earlier waiting patiently by the limo, parked out front. “I’ll take you home.”

“Oh- are you sure?” You wondered how long he'd been waiting there.

“Yes,” he said tersely. 

“Okay, thank you so much.” You clambered into the car, reciting the area of New York City where you lived. You were unsure whether you appreciated this gesture or felt like you were being shuttled away like just another hook-up. But you were just another hook-up, you reminded yourself. You were a blip on Kendall’s radar, a chance encounter, a rando he’d told too much. All you could do now was forget.

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon "Ghost" Riley X

Medic!Reader (Part 7)

Word Count - 4.7K

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn. This chapter describes scenes that some people may find disturbing, such as war crimes, mutilation, and death.

A/N - This chapter is tuff ngl.

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2 ❤︎ Part 3  ❤︎ Part 3.5  ❤︎ Part 4 ❤︎ Part 5 ❤︎ Part 6

Masterlist  ❤︎ 

“Better,” Ghost said from somewhere at your side, his attention divided by watching you practice your throwing knife skills and cleaning his rifle, “But stop flicking your wrist, it’s unnecessary.” 

Since you arrived here Ghost had dedicated a surprising amount of time to teaching you how to throw a knife. Your aim was still off and you had the occasional miss, but you were improving. He’s had you standing in front of the piece of wood for the last hour throwing the knives he’s so graciously let you borrow, picking them up and doing it all over again. He was a good teacher, but a tough one. Not even you could be spared from his hazing lectures of form and technique. And on more than one occasion you stomped off on him in frustration, only to sheepishly return after some time to restart after cooling off. 

You glanced over your shoulder at him, your expression bored, “Are you even watching?” 

“Yes. Now, throw,” he instructed, dark eyes flicking up to you, and when he saw that you were still looking at him he twirled his finger in a “turn” gesture. 

With a sigh, you turn back around and aim at the center of the target painted into a wooden board. You lined yourself up, your tongue instinctively sticking out, a habit you had since you were a child when in focus, and threw the blade. The handle banged off the board and clanged to the ground. 

“I just told you to stop flicking your wrist,” he commented as he slid ammo into one of his magazines. 

You spun on him, annoyance twinging your tone “You come over here and throw one.” 

He placed the magazine on the table beside him and strode towards you with a confidence you envied, plucked the blade right out of your hand and threw it. It embedded itself deep into the wood. Right in the middle. He held his hand out for another. Again, it landed in the middle with a satisfying thud. Impressively close to the first. He threw two more and only one of them wasn’t a bullseye instead it landed in the next ring. 

You clicked your tongue, “Alright,” you pushed him back towards his guns and ammo, “Go away.” 

For the last two days, it’s done nothing but storm, and everyone has taken shelter in the warehouse where there was still a working heater. But now that the nightly meeting and dinner had been served, everyone was headed back for the bunks for the night. The emotions have been running high the last few days and the weather was making it even harder to get things done. Soap was trying his best to keep up morale, but even he grew weary of waiting. Price and Gaz had gone on recon today to check out the town and came back with the news that the military was pulling out. Laswell was less than thrilled to have the entire team invading her space while she tried to work. 

She, out of all of you, felt the pressure the most.  

Tonight it was your turn to take the night watch, and Ghost stayed behind until midnight to keep you company. He even went on the few patrols he was with you for, “You never talk about your family,” Ghost clutched at his rifle as he strolled beside you, purposefully shortening his stride so you could keep up.

“Well, I could say the same about you,” you knock your shoulder into him, trying to come off as playful but in truth the last thing you wanted to do was unpack the fuckery that was your family. 

“That’s because I’ve got skeletons in my closet,” he shrugged, seemingly nonchalant about it. You’ve become accustomed to his casual attitude; where normal people would become skittish with that type of admission, he wasn’t. 

You hummed, inching closer to him. Even in the rain his body heat radiating from him. 

“Well,” you started, chewing on the inside of your cheek as unease rippled through your gut, “My parents divorced when I was sixteen. My mother is the kindest woman I’ve ever met. She used to take me to the theatres every Sunday for the matinee.” 

“And your father?” He asked carefully, sensing your hesitation on the matter. His attention was on you but he made it less intense by looking off into the darkened shadows of the trees beyond the fences. 

“He’s…” your throat narrowed at the memory of him, of his hardened face and emotionless eyes, “He’s the worst man I’ve ever met. And I was his favourite,” you wrung your fingers, the tips of them going numb from the cold air, “He’s estranged now and I haven’t heard from since the divorce.” A lie. You knew exactly where and what he was doing. You also knew he kept a close eye on you and yours. “My mom has since remarried. To a guy she went to high school with, it’s quite adorable,” 

“Any siblings?” He asked as he opened the door to the warehouse for you. He didn’t push for more information, understanding that were some things better left unsaid.

“Two,” your heart skipped a beat, “Both significantly older. But one of them died when I was in high school. A car accident,” you didn’t give any more detail than that. Didn’t think you could handle dredging up old wounds. 

You silently thanked Simon for not giving you a half-hearted “I’m sorry” at the mention of your dead brother.

You told him about your childhood friends, and about the sports you played. You told him about how your brothers used to have epic fights in the backyard, and how one of them had ended with your father making them run laps at the track until one of them collapsed and the other threw up all over the grass. 

Ghost quietly listened, adding little comments here and there. He just liked hearing you talk and would sit here for hours completely content with doing just that. 

As soon as the clock struck twelve a yawn interrupted him mid-sentence and you sent him off to bed. 

“I’ll be fine. I’ll keep out of trouble. But you were up last night for your watch, you need to sleep,” you shooed him out the door. Before stepping out the door he turned to you, bending down to catch your lips with his. It was a quick, innocent gesture, and the boyish grin of his that accompanied it was even more so. 

The rest of the night was fairly tame, but your raincoat never seemed to dry and you were forever cold. Gaz had pulled out a space heater at some point but even that couldn’t seem to thaw your frozen bones and muscles. What you really wanted was a hot shower. Or even better, a bath. You’d grown weary of the cold showers. 

The silence and isolation of the night watch were welcomed. It gave you time to think and to work through your ever-flowing thoughts and emotions. You were beginning to wonder what comes after this. If you were labelled as deserters, would they just “let” you get back to your normal job once you exposed Spector? There were so many questions and you were too afraid to find out what the answers would be. Would anyone even believe you guys? 

You spent the rest of the night trying to distract yourself before you found yourself spiralling. You reorganized the makeshift kitchen area, sewed a rip in your jacket pocket, and read the first few chapters of a particularly boring book Gaz had brought with him. You had quickly become thankful for the hourly strolls outside.     

“What are you doing up?” You asked, setting your rifle down, having done a patrol. It was a little past 4 am when you returned to find Soap lounging on one of the chairs at the makeshift table. 

His cheery blue eyes found yours, “Thought I’d come and keep you company.” 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you took a seat across from him, fiddling with a propane lamp before lighting it. 

He yawned and stretched out his arms above him, “Have you been able to?”    

You shook your head. Truth is, you haven’t had a good sleep since you got blown up. You grabbed a deck of cards someone had left on the table for everyone to use, “You shuffle,” you said, handing it to him. With practiced hands, he shuffled and dealt out a hand of canasta. 

He won the first round, and he sighed, “One more game, I’m starting to feel bad for you.”  

“Laswell find anything?” you asked. Laswell had left to meet up with one of her contacts and wasn’t going to be coming back until tomorrow.

“Not really,” he scratched at the growing beard on his face, and exchanged a card from his hand, “She’s stressing. So is Price.” 

“I don’t blame them,” you murmured. If you were going to ask anyone and not fear that they’d think you a doormat, you were going to ask Soap, “Are we still going to have our jobs once we figure all this out?”  

He blinked at you, “Our job?” then his expression softened in realization. You’d been uncharacteristically recluse these last few days and everyone had noticed it. And Soap was just relieved to have finally understood why that was, “When we find that bastard Spectator and pull his pants down in front of the brasses we’ll be handed medals.” He leaned back in his chair and it creaked against his weight, “There are, of course, probably going to be some legal measures that will need to be addressed, but when are there not? A few years back we were being hunted down by every allied force for ‘espionage’.” He rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of the idea. “We’ve got our hands tied behind our backs a few times, and yet they haven’t gotten rid of us.” 

The looming misery that had been breathing down your neck for the last few weeks backed off at his answer.     

“That makes this a little less stressful,” You wished there was more you could do, but none of this was your specialty. “You want tea?” the chill you developed from your patrols was becoming unbearable. You got up to heat up water in a pot on the propane stove before he could answer. 

“Absolutely,” he replied. 

You turned back towards him just in time to catch him trying to peek at your cards, “Are you joking?” you threw up your hands in disbelief. You’ve played a lot of cards with Soap in the last two weeks, and never once did you win against him. Now you know why. You tossed a tea bag at him.

He slid back into his seat with a sheepish grin. 

“I’m not making you tea anymore,” you glowered over at him, “You can make your own.”

You cracked open the door to take a peek outside. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the ground sodden with water. It smelt like fresh earth. An hour later Ghost joined the two of you, claiming that Price was snoring so loud that he woke up thinking someone was attacking him with a chainsaw. Soap asked if he cared for a game of cards to which he curtly replied with a very stern, very definitive “No, you little crook.” 

After a brief discussion, you and Ghost decided it would be as good a time as ever to check in on the town. He wanted to scope it out to see if the military had pulled out yet. You wanted to check in on the school. 

The drive into the town was silent, the pit of your stomach was turned inside out. Your intuition screamed at you that something was wrong. 

Thick fog clung to the trees and made the drive more unsettling.  

A strange pungent smell invaded the cab of the truck a few miles back from the town. It smelt like smoke and something else you couldn’t place a finger on. The smell got stronger and stronger the closer you got, to the point where you shoved your nose into the collar of your shirt. 

“Ugh,” your eyes began to water, “What is that?” 

A large dark form lay on the side of the road as you turned a corner and Ghost slowed the vehicle, his hand dropping to the pistol at his thigh.   

So he feels the unease too. 

That thought alone was alarming. 

As you rolled forward confusion clouded your thoughts. The corpse of a horse was left in the ditch. Its brown coat stained darker in some spots—with dried blood. From the looks of it, this happened days ago.

“They killed off all their livestock,” Ghost grumbled, his attention fixed on something ahead of us. You followed his gaze. The herd of cows he passed every day we drove into town was left to rot in one of the fields surrounding the town. Their bodies are already half-decomposed. In their state, it was obvious this occurred days ago. 

“Isn’t this a war crime?” 

He nodded, features hardening. 

You wondered why no one had tried to dispose of them. 

In fact, as you neared, there wasn’t anyone around. No passing cars or people walking their dogs. 

As the town came into view, and the fog fell away from the buildings to could better make out the shapes hanging from the sign. You squinted, leaning forward. Your blood ran cold, “Riley–”

“I see it,” he grunted.

Three bodies hung from the town's welcome sign. The faces were mottle shades of blue and grey. Hands tied behind their back and feet bound together. Two men and one woman. They had died long after the cattle. Their clothes and hair remained dry, despite the last few days of rainfall. 

Ghost nodded his head towards the woman, “That’s my informant's wife.”    

If you hadn’t known him as well as you did you would have thought him indifferent to the sight but guilt lined the edges of his words. 

You looked back to the women and your stomach rolled. Her neck bent at an unnatural angle, “Did–” you shook your head in disbelief, “Why would they do this?” It was hard to believe that the same army you fought for could do something like this. Something so animal. 

Beside you, he didn’t answer. His eyes scanned the empty streets, finding nothing and no one. 

“Take me to the school,” you breathed, worry piling up inside you. 

He opened his mouth to say something, probably to argue but thought better of it. 

He rolled to a stop just outside the school, his brows furrowing, “Are you sure you’ll be fine?” 

You nodded, but you couldn’t find it within you to smile at him.

“You just need to click twice on your radio and I’ll be right back,” he was going to go check in on his informant. If his wife was dead, the probability that he was too was high.  

He waited for you to enter the building before he pulled out and went on his way.   

The school was desolate, no single child milled about. No teachers lined the halls. It was a school day, you were sure about that, yet no one was around. 

You followed the now-familiar path to the classroom at the back of the school. Peaking into empty classrooms on the way there. 

Your hands shook as you reached the door to the classroom, and eerie silence on the other side. You knocked but the door wasn’t shut properly and creaked open. The lights were off, and no voice answered from within as the sound of your approach. You swallowed the lump in your throat before pushing the door completely open. 

The room was empty. Yesterday's date is still etched in chalk on the chalkboard. 

Along with the angry rushed words, “Your sympathizers will be killed.” 

You didn’t need to ask to know those words were meant for you. You looked around the room once more, searching for any sign of life. But the room was nearly spotless, there was no blood, no sign of a struggle. Textbooks and pencils still lay on the desks of the students, ready for their next lesson. 

You picked up one of the books, examining it. 

Something outside caught your attention, a flash of a silhouette as it rushed across the courtyard.

You peered out the window and into the courtyard in hopes of seeing who was out there.

The breath wooshed out of your lungs, and the textbook in your hand slipped from your grip. You didn’t even hear it fall. 

Outside, hand-tied above their head to a wooden post was what was left of a female body. There wasn’t much left of her but the chard-blackened flesh. Gone was her scent of rosemary and pepper. Gone was her soft voice and youthful face. 

A hand flew up to cover your mouth as bile rose up your throat. 

The door behind you creaked open and you spun, hand going for your gun. 

A small familiar figure appeared, her usually emotionless face tear-stained. When she caught sight of you her face contorted into one of distrust and hate. 

It was the girl you had been helping heal the wound on her arm. 

Then she was rushing at you, her slim fist slamming into your armoured chest, her voice cracking as she yelled up at you. She kicked her feet out at your shins and ankles. You couldn’t understand her but her face revealed what she was saying. There didn’t need to be a language barrier to know what she was calling you. What she was saying. 

“This is your fault. You killed her. You’re a monster. A killer.” 

There was no doubt that her screams would draw attention if anyone was still here. You covered her mouth, hushing her. She trashed against you, nails digging into the exposed skin on your wrists. Her feet stomped on yours. 

Voices echoed down the hall and the both of you froze. Wide eyes connecting in dread. She stopped breathing entirely. You lifted a finger to your lips, prying she’d remain silent. Slowly and as quietly as you could you brought her to the windows, opened one of them and signalled for her to slide out. Her brows furrowed with skepticism but she obeyed. 

I was the lesser of two evils in her eyes.     

“Run,” you whispered to her, palming a throwing knife into her hand and she climbed out the window. 

She didn’t turn back to look at you as she sprinted to the other side of the building. You watched as she hesitated before running past the brutalized body of her teacher. You watched her dip out of one of the many doors. 

You tore yourself from the window and the scene beyond it, wishing you could at least cut her down from the post. 

But there was someone else here. 

You crept back out into the hallway, following the same route to the main foyer, trying to avoid the direction the voices came from. 

Wrong. 

At the end of the hallway were two men, their attire and the patches on the side of their arms making it obvious that weren’t here to be friendly. You considered ducking back behind the corner but they had already seen you. Their concealed faces snap towards you. 

Your hand reached for this radio at your shoulder and clicked it twice.  

“What are you doing here?” one of them called out, his head tilted to the side trying to get a better look at you. There was no way in hell you were going to get away with pretending to be a local. You were decked out in a bulletproof vest. Instinctively, your hand dipped for the pistol at your thigh but stopped short. They weren’t the enemy, they were here following orders. 

You cleared your throat, “I was told to meet the lieutenant here,” you could only hope they didn’t ask for a name.

They shared a look, the postures stiffening, before turning back to you, “Lieutenant, Smithers left yesterday morning.”

Welp.

You pulled one of the knives Ghost had given you earlier this morning from its sheath, “I don’t want to have to hurt you,” you swore. 

But it was too late, and this was going to be a short-lived fight. You were outnumbered and outmuscled. You could only hope you would be able to hold them off until Ghost got here.  

The first one moved quickly, and you flung the blade in his direction. You were aiming for his throat but missed. It landed in his shoulder, which worked well in slowing him down but wasn’t going to put him out of this fight. The second one closed in on you, throwing a dangerous left hook that for sure would have knocked you out cold if you hadn’t sidestepped him, now behind him you kicked out at the back of his leg. His momentary loss of balance was enough for you to drive your knee up into his face. Bone cracked, and his nose immediately started spewing blood everywhere. 

The first guy was still recovering from your knife, but he was still more than capable of doing major harm once he regained his composure. 

Your fingers found the warm metal of the soldier dog tag and wrapped your fist around it, tugging at it until his gargled protest echoed. You grabbed for the second knife equipped at your chest. 

An arm wrapped around your waist and you were being hauled up into the air and slammed into the wall behind you, knocking the wind out of you. You brought your elbow down in the soft spot between his shoulder and neck. Once. Twice. He let you go, driving his fist into your jaw. Your head snapped to the side and stars blossomed in the corners of your vision. 

You grappled at your assailant for purchase, but you were already being yanked into the other soldier's arms, your hand twisted painfully behind you.

“Bitch,” he missed in your ear.

Your vision was swimming but your eyes landed on the blade still jutting out of the first guy's shoulder. You leaned your weight back, lifting your feet to kick the blade in again. The man stumbled back, screaming. You dropped your weight as fast and hard as you can, bringing the last guy down with you. 

He was faster than you. Climbing on top of you, pressing into your back with a knee. His finger gripped at your scalp, bringing your head up only to smash it back into the ground. Again and again. 

There was a bang that cracked through the air. And you waited for the searing pain that usually accompanied a bullet. 

The heavy weight above you began to suffocate you, and you struggled for breath. A whimper escaped you. 

There was the sound of a struggle somewhere above you but you couldn’t find the strength to so much as look up. 

The weight was lifted off of you, and you came face to face with the unseeing, dead eyes of the soldier who was just bashing your face into the floor. Then you were being flipped and your eyes met familiar brown ones.  

Alarm flashed across his face, “Shit. Can you walk?”, his arm slipped under and around you. 

“Yes, I think,” You blinked up at him, your vision blurring. You wiped at your eyes, “I can’t see.”

“You’ve got blood everywhere,” Ghost hissed, shifting your weight onto him. The floor beneath your feet was slick and you fought to keep them under you. He nearly carried you to the truck before shoving you into the passenger seat. He was driving off before you could register where you were.  

“Was it just them?” He asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road but they kept snapping over to you. 

Your arms felt heavy and you slumped in your seat, “I didn’t see anyone else.” 

He drove fast back down the road and out of the town. If there were two soldiers still here there was bound to be more. And he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. 

He reached into the back to find something, anything for you to wipe the blood from your face. You weren’t sure which of it was yours and which of it was the now dead soldiers. 

He found a plain white cotton shirt from his pack.

“You’ll never get the blood stains out,” you half joked as you wiped at your face.  

“I’m not too attached,” he ground out but you could tell he wasn’t in the mood for jests right now. 

“Did you find your informant?” you strained as you wound a particular sore spot above your brow. A break in the skin that would surely scar. 

“He was dead.” 

Nausea gripped your stomach and you weren’t sure if it was the signs of a concussion or because of the aftermath of what you’d seen at the school. Most likely both, “Riley,” you struggled, fingers finding the door handle, “Pull over.”

“What?” 

Saliva flooded your mouth, “Pull over.” 

He turned into the ditch, tossing you a concerned glance before he moved to open his door.

“Stay in the truck,” you ordered, before slipping out your door. 

You were retching before your feet found the earth. You retched until you couldn’t anymore. Until your stomach was empty and your legs were useless.  

He didn’t say a word when you stepped back into the truck, but his knuckles turned white in the steering wheel. 

He handed you the bottled water from the cup holder and you rinsed your mouth out before speaking again, “We can’t involve any more civilians,” even to your ears you sounded defeated, “They will hunt them down. They did. They…called her a sympathizer,” you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. You told him of the school, and the message written on the chalkboard. You told him about the little girl and the teacher had to leave in the courtyard. “Did you informant know anything about the rest of us? Did he know I was at the school while you were with him?”

He stiffened, “No and yes. He wasn’t aware that anyone other than us two were on the run,”   

We drove for another few hours before he turned off the road once more. 

He was jumping out of the truck and reaching into the back seats before coming around to your side. His head was on a swivel, as he walked, looking for any signs that we had a tail. He opened your door, “We can’t go back to camp just yet,” he handed you your pack and placed his at his feet.

You had noticed that he was going in the complete opposite direction of the base a while back. Those soldiers knew we had been to that village, and they had been waiting for us to turn back up. There was still a chance they were following us, hoping we’d bring them back to everyone else. 

“Agreed,” 

“Dress in your civi’s,” he took out a fresh pair of jeans and a plain grey sweater, “The closest safe house isn’t as secure as the last,” He looked over your face and removed his vest, “I can stop on the way there and get you some ice for your face.” 

Then he was shirtless, then he was nearly naked. 

And too soon he was dressed again. His sweater pulled tights across his chest and shoulders. He looked even better in regular clothes than he did in his uniform. He moved to help you with your vest, the velcro a harsh sound in the silence. He helped you wiggle out of your shirt. You were sticky, cold, wet and with blood. He handed you a hoodie and waited for you to put it on before closing the door.

His Foresight - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @marytvirgin ❤︎ @stickygumchewer ❤︎ @lauraliisa ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy ❤︎ @lululandd ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy ❤︎ @naxxsstuff ❤︎ @sididakra-jo ❤︎ @yukisawer ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @kat-nee ❤︎ @meganoreid ❤︎ @thewoodenarcade ❤︎ @kaghost ❤︎ @shadowcldx ❤︎@mymommmy ❤︎ @crunchlite ❤︎ @mychrysanthemums ❤︎  @xheera​  ❤︎ @lockleywife​ ❤︎ @ryethebrokengae ❤︎  @yellow-devil18 ❤︎ @tangledredstringsoffate ❤︎ @gingergirl06 ❤︎ @wwe1rdc0re

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮 (I love Cranberry)

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️ (WEDDING WEDDING WEDDING)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐

YEAH!

69 for 🦮:

---

The whole thing had made him do a lot of soul searching. A lot of research. A lot of honest reflection on his life and his relationships with women and men. Ultimately, he’d comfortably settled on the label bisexual. He’s even told Eddie as much, carefully and in a way that didn’t put the focus on whatever the two of them have. Eddie had seemed glad to hear it, has been supportive, but hasn’t said anything about himself. 

It’s all fine by Buck. He can wait. He’ll be as patient as he needs. For the time being, they are something in between friends and boyfriends. Closer and more intertwined than any friends Buck knows, but with none of the physical aspects of dating, save the occasional sleepover where Buck stays in Eddie’s bed.

“You’re freezing,” Buck says. 

Eddie nods. “Can’t get warm.”

“Let’s get you home?” Buck suggests. 

Eddie nods again. He pulls away from Buck and crouches to see Cranberry. Usually, he’s vigilant about not touching her while she’s vested in public. More vigilant than Buck would be, even. Tonight he has less composure. He reaches forward for Cranberry, she shuffles forward into his space, popping up so she’s on her back legs, front paws on his shoulders. She nuzzles her head into his shoulder. This is a little routine the two of them have at home. Something she only does for Eddie. Buck thinks it’s adorable, albeit somewhat naughty. 

“Thanks, girl,” Eddie whispers into Cranberry’s silky fur. “Thanks for coming.” 

Cranberry licks his ear. 

Very naughty girl, really. Stealing kisses in hospital waiting rooms.

“Come on, Cran,” Buck says. “Let him up.”

Cranberry hops off of Eddie and does a deft little pivot back into heel. Eddie rises, a bit slow and stiff. Buck puts a steadying hand on his back. If Eddie notices the way Bobby watches this interaction, he doesn’t show it. 

🦮🦮🦮

The first half of the drive is absolutely silent. Buck blasts the car heater. He can hear Cranberry start to pant in the back. Buck isn’t super comfy either but they’ll both be okay for a little while. Eddie needs this. 

Buck doesn’t ask him about what Bobby said. 

We thought we’d taken precautions against him ending up stuck. You can ask Eddie what he did to circumvent those.

Buck’s sure that means Eddie did something stupid heroic. He remembers Eddie climbing into a burning horse to rescue a trapped kid. Like he’d been overcome by the spirit of a Marvel superhero. Eddie isn’t typically reckless. Not the way Buck used to be. But it’s there inside him, buried not quite deep enough to be completely covered up. 

“I really almost died,” Eddie mumbles eventually, when they stop at a red light. “I almost passed out, swimming.”

Buck inhales sharply. 

“I’m fucking glad you didn’t.” 

He doesn’t know what else to say. He’s almost died a few times now. He knows I’m sorry feels empty. 

“I don’t know what would have happened,” Eddie whispers. 

What would have happened? If Eddie drowned? Obviously Eddie knows the mechanics. He’s a medic. 

“You don't have to worry about that,” Buck says firmly. “You’re alive. And you saved that kid, right?” 

“I saved that kid. Hayden. Someone else’s son.”

---

72 for ⚡️:

---

“No,” Buck replies apologetically. He presses three big, theatrical kisses to Eddie’s forehead. “Just one more week of work and then we’re getting married!” 

Eddie chuckles. “Was that so hard?”

“No,” Buck says between more kisses. “No, because I’m the luckiest hungover guy in the whole world.”

“That’s me,” Eddie argues. He’s keenly aware that they likely sound as nauseating as he feels. 

It’s been a fantastic few months, really. Wedding planning has been easy. Honestly, it has. Because they’re going so simple, there hasn’t been a ton to do. And there’s so many people in their lives that have pitched in to help out. Eddie keeps waiting for Buck to devolve into clipboard levels of neuroses, but it simply hasn’t happened. They’ve been lucky. Lucky and smart. 

Eddie has a calmness about him regarding the whole thing. He’s going to marry Buck next week, and it’s going to be perfect. 

“We only have to sleep today, right?” Buck yawns. 

They don’t have to check out of the hotel until one in the afternoon. Adriana has Chris for the day. Their responsibilities are minimal. 

“We’ve got a few more hours,” Eddie confirms. 

“Good,” Buck murmurs. “I’m so sleepy.”

Eddie kisses the side of his jaw. 

“Go back to sleep.”

After all, with every hour that passes, the closer they are to being married. 

🗲🗲🗲

Buck’s head still hurts the day after their bachelor party. He blames Ravi. Ravi and tequila. 

They have a shift tomorrow morning, but before then, they’ve received a last minute call from their real estate agent. Gianna. Gianna is young and enthusiastic and ready to find them “the perfect dream home for your growing family.” Literally. She uses this phrase at least twice a conversation. It’s become an inside joke between Buck and Eddie. 

They don’t need the perfect dream home. They need a three bedroom within budget that’s accessible for Chris and has a decent kitchen for Buck’s cooking. This is proving more difficult than expected. Wedding planning? Easy. House hunting? A Herculean task. To be fair, they haven’t put their entire attention into it. Because of the wedding. But it feels like everything they’ve seen has been a bust. Either too pricey or too many stairs or basically just a closet. 

We’re not in a rush, Eddie has reminded him time and time again. Every time Buck finds one of these viewings unbearably frustrating. And, yeah, that’s true. There’s no pressure. But if they both want a kid and they can’t have a kid until they have a new house, Buck wants to get cracking. It’s like the moment Eddie said yes, Buck went from wanting another kid to, like, needing one. He thinks about it all the time. 

So when Gianna called to said she has something, Buck felt hesitant. He doesn’t want frustration about this so close to the wedding. But she insisted. 

“It’s just had a big price drop, it’s perfect for you, and I think it’ll sell quick at the new price,” she’d promised. “Humor me!”

So they had. Residual headaches and fatigue aside. 

The first thing they notice about the address Gianna sends them is that it’s within walking distance of Bobby’s. Not too far from Maddie and Chim’s or Hen and Karen’s, either.

“That’s promising,” Eddie opines on the drive over.

“Not for our budget.” Buck replies. 

“What did I say about being a buzzkill?” Eddie warns.

---

24 for 🔼:

---

“Oh, there you go,” the doctor says. “There’s your fetus and there’s cardiac activity.” 

Eddie looks at the screen to where she’s pointing at a not very baby-like blob. That's a little bit more than a late period. His jaw tightens even more. 

“I-I can’t hear a heartbeat,” Shannon stammers. “Are you sure?” 

“It’s a little too early for you to hear it,” the doctor says. “But everything looks alright. You’ll want to make a proper appointment with an OBGYN, though. I’m just emergency medicine.” 

“Thank you,” Shannon tells her. “Thank you so much.” 

“Of course. I’ll leave you to get dressed and send someone to discharge you.”

And then they’re alone. 

There’s a long moment of silence before either of them says anything. Eddie is so angry. He’s trying not be emotional. He’s trying to stay calm. It feels impossible. 

“You must have a lot of questions,” Shannon says sheepishly. 

“You think?” 

Eddie’s tone sounds a bit more growly than he intends.

---

24 for 👑:

---

Chim has to rush. He doesn’t have a lot of time to go home, get clothes, and get ready. He doesn't even know if he has a proper outfit. Oh, god. He has to go shopping for a nicer shirt on New Year’s Eve! 

Hen finds him in the locker room, frantically packing his bag. 

“I think I like the new captain,” she says with a knowing smile. 

Chim pauses for a second. 

“How did you do it? What did you say to him?”

Hen shrugs. “I just explained why I thought you deserved this chance. That’s all.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” Chim says. 

“That’s the thing, Chim. You do.” She shakes her head. “And you deserve to know whether or not you and this Maddie could be something special. So go see.” 

Chim grins. “Thank you, Hen. I don’t say it enough, but I love you, you know?”

“I love you, too. Now get going!”

---

24 for 🩸:

---

“If I had to guess,” Athena nods. 

“That’s insane,” May exhales. “That’s… This is wrong.”

Eddie thinks about Kim. If their hypothesis is right, this means she’s out there somewhere. Still alive. He swallows, a lump appearing in his throat. A path forward presents itself to him. One that seems damning to walk. 

“Don’t you think about it,” Bobby says. 

Eddie flinches, as though Bobby is reading his mind. But when he looks at his former captain, he sees that it’s not Eddie’s he’s speaking to. 

It’s Buck. 

“I’m not!” Buck insists.

“You absolutely are,” Bobby replies flatly. 

“Okay, well maybe a little,” Buck admits.

“Buck,” Eddie sighs. 

“Need I remind you murder is illegal?” Athena says. “And I am still a police sergeant?”

“Which is why it was only a small thought,” Buck says. “But it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Why is that?” Bobby asks.

---

48 for 💐:

---

 She might as well take advantage. 

May turns on the kettle in their tiny kitchenette. She grabs a mug and a bag of chamomile tea. Her brain really doesn’t need any coffee right now. As she does, she looks at one of April’s mugs in the cupboard. It’s white, with two animated characters on it. Characters she recognizes, but doesn’t know much about. One is a tall blonde woman in white armor with a sword, and the other is tinier, dressed in red, with cat ears and claws. Isn’t that that remake of the older cartoon? She-Ra? 

May sighs and Googles it as her water boils. She doesn’t know why she cares. She doesn’t care. Curiosity killed the cat, or whoever the fuck is on that mug. May immediately finds an article about She-Ra and the Princesses of Power - corny ass name, in her opinion - and the “gay agenda.” She reads it through, surprised at how much queer representation is reportedly packed into a kid’s cartoon. 

Maybe watch it, a tiny voice tells her. But that’s stupid, right? She doesn’t watch cartoons. Like, ever. She never got into anime. Not even adult cartoons, like Bob’s Burgers. Why should she watch this one? She’s here for Love Island and Too Hot to Handle, mostly. Not much television in general. A sweet little cartoon isn’t her style. 

Why is she curious? 

She doesn’t know, but she blames Buck.

May is pouring boiling water into her mug when the front door opens and April walks in. She immediately stiffens, grip tightening around the handle of the electric kettle. 

“Hi,” April says, kicking off her shoes. 

She’s dressed in a crop top and dark, high-waisted jeans. May can see a floral tattoo poking out on the exposed layer of skin on her midriff. She wants to know what the whole thing looks like. Just because she’s nosy, though. No other reason. 

“Hey,” May replies, a little rigidly. 

“Surprised you’re here,” April says. 

“What does that mean?” May asks. 

April raises her hands in mock surrender.

“Just that you’ve not been, lately.”

“Are you keeping tabs on me?” May demands haughtily.

April smirks. “I pay attention.”

May’s cheeks heat. She must be visibly bothered, because April’s smug, annoying expression only deepens. She bites her full bottom lip a little.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Second-Hand Goods #4

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: Groping, drugging, implied future non-con

The basement didn’t have a clock, but Emmett knew it was early when he woke to the sounds of Master on the stairs. 

The basement was still chilly, even with the space heater and bedding Master had given him. Emmett distantly wished Master had given him bedtime medicine, because he hadn’t slept well at all.

“Good morning, sweetie.” Emmett stopped himself from wrinkling his nose at the pet name. It wouldn't be received well.

Master was carrying something rolled up, a paper bag with the PetSmart logo, and a bowl with a spoon.

“Aren’t you going to say good morning?” Oops.

“Sorry Master. Good morning.” Master smiled at him, and put the bowl in front of him. Oatmeal; maple and brown sugar flavor. Emmett savored the hot food as he watched Master unroll the whatever-it-was onto the floor of one of the kennels.

A hint of discomfort tickled the back of his mind, but he dismissed it in favor of breakfast. 

“I’m going to pick up a guest tomorrow,” said Master, “So we’ll need to get your uniform on.”

“Uniform?” He didn’t like the sound of that.

Master picked up the PetSmart bag. “It’s nothing to worry about. I had it custom made so it’ll be comfortable.”

Oh. Master hadn’t lied to him so far, how bad could it be?

Master pulled out a muzzle. 

“Wha- why-”

“I was thinking,” Master interrupted. He crouched, patting Emmett on the cheek. The muzzle clanked in his hand. “You’re so sweet, and our guests can be so feisty. And you really want to come upstairs, right?”

“Uh huh.” He really didn’t see where Master was going with this.

“Well, they won’t be so troublesome if it looks like I’m making you help me out. So this handy little accessory will show them you’re friendly.”

That… made a little sense. He didn’t want to have to wrestle with a ‘guest’. He’d never been much of an athlete.

Master loosened the strap, pulling the wire frame over his head and onto his face. There was a padded barrier between the metal and his cheeks, and the actual shape and size still allowed him to open his mouth. It wasn’t so bad.

Master grinned at him, and Emmett didn’t like the look of it. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t stay in the cold basement forever.

Master reached into the bag again, and Emmett’s heart dropped. There was more? It was only a red collar with an engraved name tag, but still. He didn’t like all these surprises. 

Once the collar was fastened, Master grabbed his chin and tilted his head this way and that. A tiny voice in his mind wondered if this was really to help with the guests, or if Master was just pleased to see him looking like a pathetic dog.

It didn’t matter what the tiny voice said. Emmett didn’t want to die. He’d take a thousand days in a muzzle over an hour with his torturer. And he’d wear a collar forever if he didn’t have to work two jobs just for rent.

There was one more thing in the bag. A leash.

Master clipped it to the ring on his collar, the metal jingling. The tips of his ears burned as Master unlocked the shackle around his ankle.

“It’s a little chilly down here, isn’t it?”

Emmett opened his mouth to respond, but Master put a finger to his lips. “Ah, ah, ah! No talking when you’re in your uniform. Understand?”

Emmett nodded.

“Since you’re doing so well, I think we can have an hour upstairs.” He tugged on the leash, and Emmett followed for half a moment before Master laughed and stopped.

“You can stand up, silly thing. I didn’t tell you to crawl.”

His face burned as he got to his feet. 

Upstairs was much warmer, and Master had Netflix already running with the next episode of the nature documentary. 

“Want a coke?”

Emmett nodded. He hadn’t had a soda in… how long had he been missing? 

The coke was a fancy one, the glass bottle and made with real sugar. Master stuck a straw into it so he could drink through the muzzle. 

One hour, and he’d be back downstairs.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

___________________

Maybe he was overdoing it with the drugs. Emmett didn’t protest when he put his arm around his shoulder. Didn’t react when Ander put a hand on his thigh.

He’d slipped part of a dose into the oatmeal and the second half into the soda, but it was clearly too much for him. He was half asleep. Damn.

Ander didn’t feel like fucking him when he was so out of it. No fun at all.

He took Emmett downstairs, keeping an eye out for stumbling. 

He ordered him to sit down, and even that seemed like a lot for him. 

Ander snatched Emmett’s allotted pillow and blanket, tossing them into the kennel. 

There, a cozy little cage for his favorite dog. 

He grabbed Emmett by the back of the hair, like scruffing a cat. Emmett whimpered, and shit if that didn’t make him a little hard.

“C’mon sweetheart. In you go.” 

Emmett crawled in with little resistance. Ander locked the door, and Emmett was already clutching his pillow, eyes unfocused and drowsy. Cute.

Maybe he’d get around to fucking him tomorrow.

taglist: @writereleaserepeat @paintedpigeon1

[fixed-signs]

Marzana, Marzana

Marzana, Marzana - Chapter 5

Pairing: Josh x original female character

Warnings: SFW, blood, hospitals

Eventual pregnancy and angst, we got slow burn, we got fluff. I didn't proof read this, bc idgaf. 

Word count: 3k

Hadley let out an ‘ouf’ as she set down the rubbermaid bin of Christmas decorations, Sara followed behind her holding the poorly stored fake Christmas tree like she was about to joust her route from the garage to living room. 

“I think he likes you.” 

“What? He hugs everyone, just generally a very friendly person.” Hadley was hit with the smell of cinnamon, peppermint, and cheap candle wax as she opened the lid to the bin. 

She fanned the open box with the lid, hoping it would help disperse the nauseating smell. Sara wrangled the post of the tree into it’s base and it’s limbs fell limply. Burl quickly came over from his snooze on the couch to investigate all the new smells. The chilly garage air still surrounded all the items. 

Hadley remembered the year her mom stored the candles on the very top of the bins. When they opened them there was red wax over everything and her mom couldn’t stop laughing about how everything looked so gnarly. The angel that went on the top of the tree got her mom laughing to tears as it looked like it was a possessed porcelain and lace remake of the scene in Carrie. 

The sound of crinkling plastic started to fill the house with a dull white noise as Sara fluffed out the wire branches. 

“Do you still have any of your mom’s leftovers?” Hadley didn’t wait for an answer as she made her way back to the kitchen. She didn’t bother to reheat the thanksgiving leftovers, simply ate right from the Tupperware. 

“He gave you that flower at their show.”

Burl’s attention was redirected to Hadley and the food she was pacing around eating in the living room, “That’s nothing, it’s probably a gesture for the guitar.” She said after a gulp of food. 

“Ok, well why is he texting you all the time?” 

“I dunno, travel is probably boring.” The turkey started to taste too much like turkey and Hadley gave up on food again. “Look, I’m not going to be some creep and misinterpret something.” She put the food on an end table and started digging through to hang stockings. “Plus he’s probably a little weirded out about me sleeping with his literal twin.” 

“Probably,” Sara mocked, “Yeah, yeah it’s probably nothing.”

Sara made her way around the ever growing perimeter of the plastic tree to see Hadley crouched down tilting a Santa hat over one of Burl’s ears, a gold garland was draped loosely around his neck. Hadley’s little giggles she was holding in grew as Sara laughed and cooed at Burl. 

“Is this not Christmas card material?” Hadley gingerly sat back hoping Burl wouldn’t shrug off the hat, took out her phone, and snapped a picture.

* 

The month crept by during the day by day, but before Hadley knew it there was snow on the ground and it was dark at 4:30. Christmas felt like it was almost there already. She often stayed late at work to work on the guitar, she preferred to be out of the house this time of the year. Without her mother there, even with the best efforts of decorating and cookie making from Sara, reminded Hadley more of the homesick void deep in her chest. She’d been managing it, but her grief was rearing it’s ugly head. She knew it wasn’t going to ever really go away, but why taunt it?

If she couldn’t swing staying late at work, she could be found in her makeshift workshop in the garage- a space heater at full blast. On occasion Sara, despite Hadley’s claims of exhaustion, would force her out to a show in some dive bar or dinner at a trendy place.

*

Josh’s joy and excitement grew more and more each day with the anticipation of giving gifts and celebrating. It took everything in him not to tell everyone what he had gotten them for Christmas. Just like every year his brothers scolded and stopped him from doing so, Sam was especially on his case this year to keep it under wraps. 

Each day with shows and work since Thanksgiving had flown by, but their small holiday hiatus felt eons away. The family group chat was constantly dinging with new Christmas menu items, extended family updates, and cocktail ideas.

Every snowflake that melted on the tourbus window made him vibrate with warmth. 

*

It was hard to tell exactly how the multiple quilts and comforters were configured into a perfect cocoon around Hadley and Burl. Hadley had enough room to scroll on her phone and look up to see the TV at the end of her bed, while Burl was equally wrapped up with just his snout sticking out.

The delicate infrastructure of the covers were quickly ruined as Burl shimmied his head all the way out and started barking. Sara was shuffled down the hallway, wordlessly chucking a bag of candy at Hadley as she passed by her door. 

“Hey I’m leaving tonight.” Sara shouted as she made her way to the bathroom, “You’re still more than welcome to come.”

Hadley could hear Sara opening and closing drawers and the medicine cabinet, “I thought you were leaving tomorrow?” Hadley sat up and took stock of what was just hurled at her. 

“Nah, it worked out better this way.  I guess my brother requested off early and something about traffic tonight and my uncle’s wife’s family…” Sara continues to ramble and pack, meanwhile Hadley had popped a piece of holiday peppermint bark into her mouth. 

“Thank you!” Hadley waited until Sara seemed done and she has the bark at least half chewed and shoved to the side of her mouth. 

Sara popped her head in, nodded a bit, then looked at her sweater slung over Hadley’s closet door. She nabbed it, stopping to scratch Burl’s ear, “You sure you don’t want to come with?”

“Nah.”

Sara scrunched her nose and stuck out her tongue at the rejection.

 “No, dude- come on it’s even weirder with Christmas and having to sit there while everyone opens gifts. And the boys haven’t picked up the guitar yet. And I want to get stuff done around the house…I’d just rather not.”

Sara shrugs satisfied with the answer. Can’t really argue it. She continues on her way. 

*

1 missed call

4 text messages

1 instagram notification 

3 ‘gibson’ email

6 ‘personal’ email

1 Facebook market place

Hadley squinted her eyes at her phone screen, 5:45 showed in thin white numbers. Another night of not remembering falling asleep at 9:30.

One text was from Sara saying they got to her parents house safely. The other texts and the voicemail were from Josh.

‘Hey, I’m flying home tomorrow afternoon. Could I pick up the guitar around 8:00?’

She responded yes and then clicked her voicemail box. 

“Oh, well hi. It’s Josh, I’m home in Nashville again….sorry if I caught you at a bad time- just wanted to call and make sure it wasn’t too early to stop by. If not I can ask if you can drop it off at Danny’s or see if Jake could swing by. Lemme know, buh-bye!” 

It was still dark outside, but birds were beginning to sing, and the sound of traffic was nonexistent. Hadley chucked her phone on her nightstand and tried to roll over to sleep again. It was no use, the bed wasn’t quite as comfortable as before and she had to wiz. She freed herself from the bed to tiredly stumble to the bathroom, her legs sticky with sweat but the tip of her nose ice cold.

A wave of nausea came over her as she washed her hands. She reasoned she shouldn’t have eaten so many sweets before bed and being up so early usually did this to her anyhow. A splash of water over her face snapped her out of it. 

She opted to get dressed and make sure the guitar was perfect before Josh got there.

*

Hadley tapped her phone that was sitting face up on her work station. The garage was warm from the heater and Burl laying on her feet. She couldn’t polish or mend the guitar anymore and it was neatly put away and staring her. It was 8:45, she clicked her messages again. 

Nope, she did in fact, give her address and told him to use the garage door. Hadley exited her texts and changed the playlist. Music blared in her headphones and she sighed as she looked at the plans for the inlay on a guitar neck hung on the wall. In the peg board next to it was various tools and the white rose hanging. The petals faced down towards the floor and were a beige colored now that it was dried. Her heartbeat rushed and she stared at the inlay plans again. She plucked it off the wall.

“God I need to sharpen this shit…” She muttered to herself as she struggled to make a dent in the new rosewood neck she started.

“What was that?”

Hadley screamed and flung the knife, causing it to clatter on a pile of mother of pearl. Immediately she felt a searing pain in her hand. 

“Oh no-“ Josh hurried towards her across the garage, “I didn’t-- shit!“

“Jesus Christ.” She tried to laugh through it. An involuntary tear was forming in the corner of her eyes as she pulled her headphones around her neck.

Josh motioned for her to hold her hand out so he could look. “I think this needs stitches.” He said with a frown, Hadley wincing when she tried to bend her pointer finger in any direction.

“Hi, by the way.” She said, now that her heartbeat was slowing back down and the pain was turning to a constant dull throb. 

“Hi.” Josh chirped, “Hospital? My treat.”

“With this country’s health care? The best Christmas present ever.”

He rushed to the work bench. There was a roll of blue industrial strength paper towel he tore a piece from. He looked up and saw the preserved rose, so delicate and organic next to the shiny metals tool. 

Josh cleared his throat, “Well sit on my lap and call me Santa.” 

Burl was busy pacing, tail wagging so hard it was almost hitting his own rib cage, and following Josh’s every move. 

“I- you- no- I hate it.” Hadley stuttered and laughed.

“Here,” Josh triumphantly smirked at his bad joke pissing someone off and out the paper towel now folded into third. 

“And you!” Hadley half heartedly scolded Burl to avoid seeing her hand as Josh wrapped it, “The one time you don’t fucking bark at something.” 

Burl attempted to sit at their feet between them, tail still wagging fiercely, and a goofy doggy grinned covered his face. It garnered a wispy chuckle from the two. 

*

It was pretty quiet for a holiday in the ER, but was early in the day. Check in was fast. Hadley had laid down on her side on the thin hospital bed trying pass the wave of spins and nausea that had over come her again. The flimsy paper towel from the shop sticking to the wound and tattered from saturation. Josh was busy going between apologizing to Hadley and frantically texting his brothers he was going to miss the flight.

“Danny says he hopes there aren’t too many stitches-“ Josh’s phone dinged again, “Jesus, Sam that little freak, wants a picture of it.” 

“How gnarly of pic was he looking for? Because I think it’s finally stopped gushing blood."

“That’s good,” Josh looked around and stood, he nabbed a fresh paper towel from the sink in the corner of the room.

He came over to Hadley on the hospital bed. She slowly sat up, a grunt left her, and Josh steadied her with a hand on her upper arm.  When the head rush left she let her feet off the side. 

“Here.” He motioned the paper towel in his hands. 

She unstuck the very red one from her finger and crumpled it up- tossing it on the bed next to her leg. Josh observed intently, trying to see what the damage really was. He stood closer, his thigh pressing lightly into her knee as he supports her palm up hand. 

“Now would be the perfect time to make a blood pact if you want.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled softly and looked up from her hand to her eyes, “Are we in an early 2000’s coming of age movie right now?”

Hadley nodded and tittered. She tried to think of something clever to say back. She was in short supply of wit this morning. Josh was grinning ear to ear, dimples deeply pronounced as he stared at her. Hadley was suddenly aware of Josh’s hands on her. One was gently rubbing her knee and the held her hand, the pad of his thumb in the middle of her palm. A fever from core to limb shot through both of them. Josh gazed down at Hadley and he slid his hand up her leg to her hip.

“Can I?” He whispered, pausing millimeters from her lips. 

She nodded— their lips hardly grazed when there was a single curt knock. The nurse entered without waiting for a response.

The two separated as casually as they could, not too jumpy like a teenager being caught in the act by their parents or something. The nurse paid no mind to it, she was just annoyed to be working and eager to leave early on this Christmas Eve, holiday pay or not. 

The nurse logged into a computer on a melamine desk kiddy-corner in the room. Josh swiftly settled himself into the plastic and metal chair across from the hospital bed. Hadley was rapid firing answering questions as fast at the nurse asked. 

“When was your last period?” 

Hadley’s feet stopped lazily kicking, “auh- I don’t remember- it’s December?” She rasped out, her sentence going in a decrescendo.

Josh looked up from his twiddling thumbs to Hadley. Her eyes if possible looked bigger than ever and she looked green. The nurse for the first time spun on her stool away from the computer and turned to face Hadley. 

She sourly glanced between her and Josh, “Hun, if your man here is bashful about your cycle I will kick him out.”

“No, it’s not that.” Hadley defended. 

The nurse rolled her eyes and swiveled back to the computer, “He wants to do grown shit with you, he better act grown…” She muttered clacking her tongue a few times.

It really wasn’t talking about her period. Hadley would gladly talk about the torture she experienced several days every month to anyone. She had to live it, they had to hear it. It was talking about not having it was what was embarrassing her to no end. 

“Let me see if your labs are done from your urine sample…” a half a second later and what felt like endless clicks, “I’m going to order a blood test to confirm you’re pregnant.”

The nurse stood promptly, the heavy wood door automatically closing behind her.

Tears welled up at the large space between Hadley’s iris and lower eyelid. She squeezed her eyes tightly and covered her face with her good hand. His stomach flipped and his cheeks became red. He needed to move. Josh began pacing the room. 

“Wh-whose is it? I- mean do you, um, know?” He thought he knew the answer, but didn’t want to assume anything.

“It has to be Jake’s. I haven’t- not since—God I’m so fucking stupid.” Hadley adamant she was only going to open her eyes when she felt like tears weren’t going to immediately flow out of them. It turned into small bought of stifled hyper ventilating. 

Josh stopped his tranced pacing when he heard Hadley’s breathing fast and uneven. The knot of tension that had built in his shoulders softened. He could see her folding into herself, like an attempt to be small and out of the way, even from her own feelings— he hated it.

“Hey,” He cooed as he gripped lightly at her wrist and brought his other hand up to wipe away any escaping tears on her cheek. “Here, hey, hey, here…” Josh guided her to lay down. 

Hadley gulped for air and rested her hand on her throat. Feeling the warmth of Josh’s fingers still gently around her forearm made her let out a loud bawling sob.

 “God, I’m so fucking stupid. Fuck.” 

She cringed. She knew she couldn’t verbalize her sense of time flying and crawling at the same time and how she’d lost track of her period. The room was an ice box to her and she started shivering, goosebumps on any exposed skin. 

Josh felt her trembling, “Hey, you’re not. Hey, shhh…” He moved to the head of the bed and brushed some stray hairs caught in the cross fires of crying off of her forehead.

“I’m just so stupid.” Hadley blurted again covering her face and undoing his work of unsticking the hair from her face.

“Look at me Marzana, Marzana.” He pulled out his exaggerated pseudo accent.

She couldn’t help but feel that surface level annoyance at her name. It was enough to bring her out of a breakdown though. She furrowed her brow, garnering an nearly silent and wispy chortle from above her.

“Please, look at me, Hadley?”

Hadley nodded. Her eyes stung when she opened them between the salty tears and adjusting to the glaring light directly over head. She focused on Josh upside down and hovering above her, his necklace swinging and his eyes matching with glints of gold. She found the way his face drooped and made his lips slightly puckered enduring. 

“We’ll figure this out. We’ll figure it out, ok?”

Hadley nodded again. Josh continued to stroke her hair, aptly tucking a strand behind her ear.

“Ok,” She said on an exhale. “I- I swear most of the time I’m Coconut Harry Nilsson, you just keep seeing the Everybody’s Talkin’ Harry Nilsson.” She tried to joke and hold her still shaky voice even.

Josh shook his head, biting his lower lip to contain a smile.

[final-girl96]

Firefly Chapter Forty-Four

Flashback

Winter 2009

I sat in the chair beside the window, legs curled up, a blanket draped over me, and a cup of hot cocoa in my hands. I don't know where or how Joel found it, but he did. He came how one night and pulled one of those big tins of it out of his bag. He also pulled out a few oversized sweaters he said he found in a department store, along with gloves, hats, a pair of fluffy socks, and new boots for me since mine were beginning to fall apart.

The snow was coming down in big, fluffy sheets. It was hard to see anything with how heavy it was, I was almost a complete white out. Everyone was staying inside their homes. Not everyone was lucky enough to have some source of heat. The QZ had electricity, but it was mainly used for FEDRA purposes. The residents had electricity, but not all of them. We were lucky enough that Joel found a space heater while he and Tess were out on one of their trips that he forbade me from going on. It was just enough to keep the small apartment warm through the cold nights.

We didn't use it during the day unless it was that cold out. We only used it at night when the temperatures would drop below zero. We weren't used to the cold like this. I mean, during the winter it would get cold at night and sometimes in the morning it would be chilly and by the afternoon it would warm up. But it was nothing compared to Boston winters.

I sat waiting for Joel to get home. It was already dark out, and the temperature was dropping. I set my mug on the stand beside me and pulled the blanket tighter. The sound of the door being unlocked grabbed my attention, and I looked over to see Joel pushing it open and stepping inside. He was covered in snow. His dark hair wet from the melted snow. He took his boots off and set them beside the door after he shit and locked it and hung his jacket on the back of one of the dining chairs.

"Hey, what're you doing sitting in the damn cold?" He asked, walking over to turn the heater on. "I didn't feel like I needed to turn it on," I said. Of course, I didn't really realize how cold it was in the apartment since I had my blanket wrapped around me, so it was also covering my head like a hood. "Well, I doubt you can even feel how cold it is in here, with how you're bundled up."

He came over and pulled up off the chair, sat down, and then pulled me onto his lap. "It's getting close to Christmas," I said. Joel hummed and wrapped his arms around me tighter. "How was your day?" I asked. He sighed, "It was long. There were a lot of bodies to burn today. Some were infected, but there were some that died from the cold, more so the older people," he said quietly.

When someone died, they weren't buried. That wasn't a thing anymore. You didn't get to have a funeral for your loved ones anymore. All bodies were burned now. Joel did the job of pulling those bodies off the back of trucks and putting them in the fire. You were paid in ration cards. That was the currency now. Joel always made sure we had what we needed. He worked any job he could get, but he also went outside the walls. He and Tess smuggle stuff in and out all the time. Me, I do whatever I can get, too. Joel doesn't usually let me go out with him and Tess.

I stood up and grabbed Joel's hand. "Come on, let's go to bed. It's late." We walked over to the bed, and I threw the blanket I had wrapped around me at the bottom, then slipped under the covers. Joel pulled his jeans off and climbed in beside me, pulling me into him and wrapping his arms around me. His hand slid down my stomach and into the sweatpants I was wearing.

He moved down to my panties and found my covered clit. He pressed his finger over it, drawing small circles, and started to kiss my neck. His fingers were moving my underwear to the side when someone started to bang on the door. "Ignore it," I begged, holding onto his wrist. The pounding stopped and Joel continued. He ran his fingers through my wet slit. I turned onto my back, spreading my legs apart so he had more access. His lips connected to mine as he slipped his fingers inside of me.

The banging on the door started again, but Joel ignored it, pressing his thumb against my clit and pumped his fingers in and out of me. It didn't take long for my release to come. I groaned when the banging started again and Joel started to pull away. "Just ignore it. Please, Joel." I pulled down to connect our lips but as soon as the person on the other side of the door spoke he was pulling away again.

"Joel! Joel, open the door!"

He gave me an apologetic look, got off the bed, and pulled his jeans on. The banging kept going until he yelled out to them. "Alright!" He reached the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. Tess stood on the other side. I sat up on the edge of the bed, sighed, and slowly stood up. She was talking fast and pacing back and forth. Joel grabbed her by the shoulders and made her sit down.

She slowed down and started explaining something about one of the guys they deal with. Apparently he fucked them over on a deal. Something about supplies they were supposed to be smuggling out of the QZ in a few days. I walked into the living room and picked up the mug I left on the table. I was pissed, it was late at night. Why couldn't she have waited until the morning. I didn't miss her watching me as I walked past them to the kitchen.

"We need to get this tonight, or we will lose everything."

I slammed the mug on the counter and spun around. "Are you fucking kidding? There is a fucking snow storm going on outside! There is no way that he is going out there to fucking smuggle something that you set up! You're the one that wanted to do this and now you want to head out in a snowstorm?! Just take the damn loss!"

An argument broke out, and in the end, they ended up leaving anyway. "Joel, please, don't do this. Stay here with me," I begged. He was pissed off at my outburst but kissed my forehead and opened the door. "I'll be back in a few days."

[plsimsuchasimp]

cheating.

part 2 here

Ft: Suna Rintarou x !gn reader, a little bit of atsumu miya x !gn reader

Genre/warnings: one (1) curse word, cheating, brief implied sex, angst, hurt/comfort, fighting

Wc: 1.8k

NOT PROOFREAD!

a/n: i’m so sorry for this angst but i had to do it for y’all... didn’t have it in me to write a happy ending, maybe later.

The rain was pouring down, clattering against the roof of the gym. You, sitting against the wall in a corner by the benches, watched Suna’s team play, smiling slightly at the way they seemed to seamlessly move together. Your boyfriend looked concentrated, green eyes flickering from one player to another. 

His phone buzzed beside you, and you picked it up, intending to set it to Do Not Disturb so you could do work, but the notification caught your eye. 

“Hey!” It read, “it was so good to meet you >;) you made me feel good <3″

Instantly, your heart drops into your stomach. Silently willing for the notification to disappear, your eyes cling to the screen as yet another popped up. “I miss you babe, we should do that again”

Your eyes begin to burn, trying to deny the obvious truth of what you saw in front of you. Suna Rintarou had cheated on you, and from the looks of it, with a stranger. You swallow, hard, as the lump in your throat grows and tears begin to form in your eyes. No wonder he’d been overly affectionate in the past week, he probably felt guilty.

What hurt most wasn’t that he didn’t tell you, pretended that everything was fine; no, it was the realization that you just weren’t enough for him. All the time you’d spent on him, everything you’d done, the words of confirmation and the countless amount of love and affection you’d given him, it all wasn’t good enough. 

You were bad enough for him to seek loving in a stranger’s arms.

Clicking the phone off, you put it down and stared into space for a moment, fighting the tears that threatened to spill onto your cheeks at any second. Practice was wrapping up, and you couldn’t face Suna right now. Luckily for you, he was on cleanup duty this week, so he had to stay late. 

Trying to shake the rigidity out of your limbs, you gathered your things and stuffed them into your bag, not taking the time to organize them so they all fit. Head down, you headed for the door, hoping that Suna wouldn’t look over. Opening the door, you were faced with another harsh realization: It was raining and Suna was supposed to drive you home. That wasn’t happening today, for sure. Glancing around, you spotted Atsumu pulling his umbrella out of his bag, and rushed over to him.

“Hey Atsumu,” you said, attempting to keep your voice steady, “Can I catch a ride with you?” He was going to ask why, when Suna had a perfectly good car, but then he caught a glimpse of the tear streaking silently down your face and decided it might be better to wait until later.

Unusually serious, he agreed and put a comforting hand on the small of your back as you two hurried out of the door under his umbrella. Opening his car door for you, he let you in and then went over to the driver’s side, sliding in and turning on the car so it would warm up. 

Stealing the occasional look at you, he noticed you were shaking and turned up the heat in the car although he was warm from volleyball practice. He started driving, sensing that you didn’t want to talk. Jaw clenched, he drove in silence for a couple minutes, then dared to speak.

“Hey, are you okay?” Hearing sniffles from your side of the car and seeing your shoulders shake, he pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park. Gulping, he awkwardly reached out a hand to pat you on the back, but this only made you cry harder.

Looking up to face him, tear streaks staining your cheeks, you tried to stop shivering from shock. “S-Suna,” you mumbled, fighting to keep your voice from completely breaking, but another sob escaped before you could get anything more out.

“Wha’? Suna what?” he prodded, brow furrowing in concern. You rarely cried, so he knew this was something really serious.

“Suna c-cheated on me.” The last couple of words were whispered, your voice breaking, and Atsumu’s mouth dropped open. Of all the things he’d expected to hear, it wasn’t that. Your relationship with Suna had always seemed perfect. He’d seen the way Suna looked at you, his eyes soft, seen the way his behavior changed around you, seen his eyes light up whenever you smiled. This wasn’t possible.

He opened his mouth, shutting it again when words failed him. You were hunched in the passenger’s seat, shaking so hard he could hear your elbows accidentally hitting the car door. Without a second thought, he took his sweatshirt off and covered you with it, hoping that it would warm you up at least a little bit. 

“I- I’m so sorry,” he muttered, unsure how to comfort a clearly distraught you. As soon as your shudders subsided, his mind turned to Suna and what he would do next time he saw him. No doubt he deserved to be beat up for what he did to you, hurting you like that, but it just didn’t make sense. Suna was totally in love with you, and it was obvious to any outsider. 

He started the car again, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your shoulder, trying to calm you down. “Y/N, I’m gonna drop ya off at home, okay?”

A quick nod from you reassured him, and you two drove with just the raindrops crashing down on the roof of the car. When you arrived at your house, you made a motion to give back his sweatshirt, but he just waved a hand and said “Don’t worry about it. Ya can return it to me when I next see ya.” Your lips trembled and you turned away from him, making the way to your door and letting yourself in. He didn’t leave until he saw that you were inside, then started driving back to the gym.

You shed your jacket and turned on the heater in your house, not bothering to turn on the lights or draw the curtains. Kicking your shoes off, you crawled into bed and under your blanket and let the tears come, hugging the pillow that smelled too much like Suna.

Meanwhile at the gym, Suna was just finishing up and wondering where you’d gone to. The guilt of his mistake still hung with him, and he was looking to take you out to dinner tonight and spend some more time with you. However, when he saw his phone laying faceup, the bold words in text still plainly on the screen, he knew that you’d found out, and his heart contracted. Sinking to his knees, he struggled to breathe through the upcoming panic. He was in love with you, and he had no idea what had possessed him to fall into someone else’s arms for the night.

The feeling surged when he remembered that one of your biggest fears/insecurities was not being good enough, and a short gasp fell out of his mouth as he realized just how much he’d messed up. The gym door swung open, banging against the wall with the sheer force of the push. There stood Miya Atsumu, a murderous expression on his face.

“Suna!” He barked, and the middle blocker glanced up briefly before returning his attention to the phone clutched in his hands, frantically pressing the call button as it once again went straight to voicemail. The sound of your voice was almost too much for him to bear, his breathing accelerating and his head pounding. 

y/n please pick up please i’m so sorry i swear i didn’t mean it they mean nothing to me i love you i love you so much please don’t leave me

His fingers speed across the keyboard, hoping against hope that you’ll talk to him. Any sort of contact. The phone is suddenly knocked from his hand by Atsumu, the look on his face nothing short of furious. 

“What the fuck were ya thinking?” He spits, rage evident in the bulging veins of his neck. “You hurt y/n so badly that they had to drive home with me rather than face another second of ya.”

His words stung Suna, because they both knew they were true. He doesn’t resist when Atsumu pulls him to his feet, glaring at him and shoving him towards the wall. 

“You’re pathetic. Y/N is the best person ya will ever meet, and ya ruined it all.” Once again, Suna doesn’t reciprocate, his eyes falling miserably to the ground. Atsumu’s fist comes up and hits Suna straight in the stomach, forcing the breath out of his lungs as he collapses to the floor. Atsumu looks at him with an expression of pure disgust, walking away to leave Suna where he is, slumped against the wall.

His eyes are dull, the life drained out of them, because he knows Atsumu is right. A notification causes his phone to buzz and he picks it up immediately, hoping to see anything from you, but it’s just another text from the fling. Hatred for himself and the person fills him, and he slams his phone down, allowing his head to sink into his knees. 

He needs to see you, so he grabs his stuff and rushes to his car, barely remembering to lock the gym on his way out. Going ten miles above the speed limit, he makes it to your house ten minutes after you had. 

Walking up to your front door, he knocks urgently, over and over again. He hears shuffling from behind, and the door opens to reveal you in an oversize sweatshirt that doesn’t belong to him and sweatpants, eyes red and puffy from crying. 

The instant you see him, time seems to stop. The hurt is written all over your face, and the regret all over his. He can’t seem to move, can’t do anything besides whisper your name.

“Y/N.” 

You shake your head, new tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and turn away. “I don’t want to talk to you, Suna.” 

With those words, his heart shatters a little bit more. He was your Rin, your Rinnie, never Suna. “Please-” the door slams in his face and he hears the lock turning, signaling the final goodbye. He screams, pounding on your door as the panic overtakes him. 

“Please! I love you! I’m so sorry, just please don’t leave me! I’ll go insane if you do!” Tears stream down his face and yours, mourning each other on opposite sides of the door. His words wrack you, tempt you to open the door and forgive him, but you can’t. He already showed you he didn’t care.

Half an hour passes, with the yells from the door fading into whimpers. Finally, you hear a car door slam, and you allow yourself to sob, held immobile on the floor. 

You’re broken, and it’s his fault. His head falls onto the steering wheel, not caring that it sets off the car horn.

Still, the rain patters on the roof, both of you less than three hundred feet apart, but forever separated.

He’ll never love anyone like he loved you.

[concealeddarkness13]

Fire and Steel (Speedrunning Therapy) Part 3

Content warning for alcohol. Yes! I’m still actually writing this! Just as a reminder, this is an AU where Chess goes to @drabbleitout’s world of Time Borrowed! I actually wrote part 3 and 4 hoping to put them in one part, but the wordcount got too high. About 4,600 words for this part! And it might end a bit abruptly, but I’ll be posting part 4 right after this!

Part 1, part 2

Tagging: @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses, and @for-fuchs-sake (just in case you’d like to see this!)

I smiled at the sight of the bar as Garnet and Valetta finished up a conversation in the front. Valetta snickered. “Take it easy, I’m not gonna do anything weird.”

“Yeah, I’ve known you long enough to know better than that.” Garnet stopped the car. “Alright, we’re here. Everybody out.”

I kept staring at the bar as I got out of the car. I had never been to such a cool bar! I had always had to go to the more underground bars, where people wouldn’t care that I had prosthetics from the experiments. “This looks like a nice place!” Wait, what if I didn’t even recognize any of the alcohol? Fuck.

“Well, of course,” Valetta said as she put on a different jacket. A leather one. My cheeks got hot as she gave me a playful jab on my shoulder. I still wasn’t used to the friendly touch. “We gotta show off a little bit. Only the best of the best for our guests. Crowds your thing? Downstairs usually gets pretty packed. I personally like the view up top.”

“Christ,” Garnet muttered, wrapping an arm around Beau’s shoulders. Oh. I was pretty sure who Beau was interested in now. “You’re probably driving tonight.”

“I figured.”

Valetta looked over at me excitedly, motioning me along. “So, what do you think? Upstairs? Downstairs?” She was shorter than me, and that made my cheeks burn worse. I was a sucker for height differences—either way.

“Upstairs. I enjoy open air more than enclosed spaces.”

“Same.” Valetta grabbed my hand at the entrance and pulled me inside, past the crowd and upstairs after waving and pointing upstairs to the bartender. I could barely take in the bar before she pulled me upstairs, but it looked bright and lively. The atmosphere wasn’t so oppressive, but that was just because I knew people shouldn’t judge me for my prosthetics. When we got to the top of the stairs, she glanced back at me, flashing me a smile, and my eyes wandered to her lips. Damn. She was so pretty.

She opened the door to the roof, and it was so nice! There weren’t many people up here, but there was another smaller bar up here and beautiful strings of lights and fake grass. There was an awning overhead, with a few stained glass panels that also seemed to double as heaters. This was amazing! Valetta glanced at me. “Not too cold, is it?”

I shook my head. “I should be fine. But if I get too cold, you’re hot enough to keep me warm.” Shit. My cheeks burned even worse.

“That’s right, I gotchu babe.” Valetta laughed as Garnet slipped past her. They pushed some tables together for everyone near the edge of the roof, so we could still see the view well. I kept watching the city as colorful lights started lighting up the skyline.

Valetta pulled a chair out for me. “Alright, know what you want? I can grab it for you.”

Garnet sat down in a different chair. “Whiskey sour.”

“I was talking to Chess.” She laughed as Beau grabbed a menu and showed it to me. I looked over it quickly, but I didn’t recognize any of the names. Shit. “You should be taking drink orders.”

“A-ha, no, this was your idea.” Garnet grinned at her.

This one sounded like straight alcohol, which would be nice, and it wasn’t too expensive. “A whiskey sounds good.”

“Good call. Beau, want anything?”

“I was going to get a mug of hot water.” He grimaced but Valetta waved it off.

“I got you, bo-bo.” She headed to the bar as Ryker, Lora, and Ives arrived. She glanced over at them. “You better order before you sit down because you missed your chance.” Ives continued over to the table while the others waited to order at the bar.

He looked over at me especially. “I’m glad you made it safely.”

I had been looking over the menu, having no fucking idea what a burger or chicken was. But when I looked up, my cheeks burned all over again. He was gorgeous. I stuttered a bit before I could get the words out. “Yeah. I’m…I’m glad you did too.”

“I know how to drive,” Garnet muttered.

“If you’re concerned about the price of items, know that they honor a discount for first responders.” Ives sat down across from Chess. “Everyone always has great things to say about this place. So, please take your time in deciding what you want.”

“Yeah, no one is in a hurry,” Beau added. “We’ll probably be here for quite awhile. So don’t rush. I know it might be…different.”

I nodded, finally tearing my eyes away from Ives. Fuck. I still had no damn idea what anything was. “What do you like here?” I directed the question to anyone.

“The steaks are great, if that’s your thing,” Garnet said. ���Sandwiches are a good route too. But I get the ceviche tacos, can’t go wrong there.”

“Everyone knows the fried chicken is where it’s at.” Valetta returned with drinks. “Though, if meat isn’t your thing, they have some killer vegan burgers.” She took a sip from Garnet’s drink before giving it to him. “Waitress tax.” She then handed the hot water to Beau, who clutched it in both of his hands.

“Burgers, hands down.” Ryker followed soon after, sitting beside Ives. “But it’s hard to go wrong.”

I glanced at the menu and took into account what everyone said, and I knew Garnet the best, and the picture of a steak did look really good, so I nodded. “A steak sounds good. Thank you.”

“Ives, did you get any help today with that configuration issue?” Lora asked. “They had you in there awhile.”

“Yes. The problem ended up being my rifle. It was a process of trial and error. Although I had no errors, the Auditors like to double check everything to be sure.”

“Does that mean you get to skip next week’s audits?” Ryker peered over the rim of his drink but scowled when Ives shook his head. “I dunno how you don’t throw them through the window sometimes.” Beau seemed to get smaller, clutching his mug closer. I was going to fucking punch any Auditor I found.

“You guys should’ve seen Chess with Niner,” Valetta interrupted. “She took to her like a fish to water. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Niner go into puppy mode so fast!”

Niner had been so good. And Valetta sounded like she was trying to distract them, and I wanted to test the waters to see if I could tell them that I wasn’t from this world, so might as well slip a hint in there. I looked up at Ives. “Yes, she was really sweet. I wanted to thank you again for letting me be with her. I admittedly have never seen a dog before, so it was a wonderful experience.”

The table got quiet until everyone exclaimed about me never seeing a dog in some way or another. Ryker leaned forward, looking at me. “Are you serious?”

I nodded. “There aren’t any dogs where I come from.”

“Oh, honey, you’re missing out.” Valetta patted my hand.

“In that case, I’m glad Niner was a good introduction.” Ives nodded. “I know not everyone is comfortable around dogs, but you’re very welcome. I’m sure Niner would appreciate seeing you again.” He kept eye contact as Lora started talking.

“Like, I know Niner is, well, Niner, but she just looks so real. Dogs are scary.”

“Do you have any pets at home?” Ryker asked. “Horses? Hamsters? Snakes?” Valetta shuddered at the last animal.

I shook my head. “Um. I don’t have a home. And what are horses?”

“She travels a lot,” Valetta said.

“But like, where are you from then? I can’t imagine a place that doesn’t have dogs or horses.” Lora set her drink down.

I swallowed hard, but they were nice, and I didn’t want to keep it from them if I didn’t have to. I glanced at Beau, and he nodded a little. “Well, um, I don’t think I’m from this world. I don’t recognize anything, and it’s a lot different from what I know.”

Everyone got quiet again, and no one moved. Garnet spoke up before anyone else. “Okay, so I know it sounds crazy,” he dropped his voice as Ryker looked over at him. “Don’t start that. She’s telling the truth.”

Ives nodded. “She is.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Valetta sat back. “What do you mean another world? Like another planet? A-another timeline?” Her mouth fell open. “Like when we all thought the world ended in 2012? And things got so stupid bad we were sure we were on the dark timeline. Are you from the bad timeline??”

“I’m thinking like another universe kinda thing,” Garnet whispered. “And is that really that strange considering a few years ago we had a literal alien living on our planet?”

“An entire universe without dogs??” Valetta hissed.

I nodded. It really was a tragedy. “Yeah, probably another universe. I don’t know how I got here.”

“What’s the last thing you remember before you got here?” Lora asked. They all leaned closer to me, and I shrank down a little at the attention.

“I was hungry and huddled in an alley, hiding from some…law enforcement who wanted to hurt me. And then I blinked and I was standing outside this city.”

“Oh honey,” Valetta reached over to hold my hands, and I welcomed the touch.

“She’s been through a lot,” Beau said. “Law enforcement where she comes from is a lot different than what we do here. Garnet and I found her this morning.”

“It was a little bit of a process, but I’d put my career on it she’s telling the truth,” Garnet added.

“Her prosthetics don’t match any known catalog of make or models. And they’re far too advanced to be an underground operation.” Ives frowned, staring at my prosthetic hand. “Are you wanting to go back from where you came?”

I immediately shook my head. “No. I’m alone there, and because I was forced into experiments, which gave me my prosthetics, everyone else sees me as lesser and a monster. I didn’t know anyone could be as kind as you guys have been.” I ducked my head as tears blurred my vision. That sounded so fucking cheesy.

I quickly blinked away the tears as Lora got up, coming over to pull me into a hug. My cheeks burned as I ducked my head into her shoulder. She gave amazing hugs. “Absolutely! Who would want to go back to that! You poor girl! How can anyone do such a thing?”

“Well, you won’t be alone here.” Valetta soothed her thumb over my knuckles, and my cheeks burned worse. “You’ve got us.” Oh fuck, I might actually cry.

“Ryker?” Ives asked, and I looked up to see Ryker studying the table, his jaw working and brow pinched.

“We gotta keep her away from Auditors. Of anyone, they’ll notice her prosthetics aren’t from here and I doubt they’d be above trying any experiments. That’s not happening again.”

I couldn’t find any words as I started crying. They were all so nice.

Lora continued. “Well, there’s no way we’re leaving you out here on your own. She’s going to need somewhere to stay.”

“She might not be sure where she wants to stay, even if she wants to stay with any of us,” Garnet said. “She’s just now meeting everyone. Maybe she just needs some time over dinner, and we can see if maybe we need to get a hotel room if that’s more comfortable.”

“Yeah, and this is about celebrating, too,” Valetta said softly. “We can worry about all that later. Right now, let’s spoil you!”

I didn’t understand, but I decided to not question it as I pulled back from Lora’s hug and furiously wiped my eyes. “Thank you so much. You’re all amazing.” I sat back down, sniffling.

Lora returned to her seat as a waiter came and took our orders. I ordered the steak, like I had decided. After I was done, Beau gently placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled. “See, everything’s going to be okay.”

I smiled back and nodded. It would at least be better than on my world. “I’m fine staying at one of your places, if that’s okay.” I didn’t want to be alone again.

“That should be fine. That’s what I do! We’ve started a rotation so I spend a week at everyone’s house. Does that sound okay to you? Or do you think you rather stay at one place?”

“The rotation sounds nice.” There were so many gorgeous people in the squad, and I could spend the night with all of them. My cheeks burned at the thought.

“I’m at Garnet’s this week. Would you rather be on the same rotation with me, or maybe your won? And, you don’t have to start the rotation just yet, if you’re not comfortable to. If you rather get to know everyone better, that’s completely up to you.”

Well, that could get awkward if I flirted with one of them and convinced them to sleep with me and Beau was there. My cheeks burned worse at the thought, but it would be nice. “I’m comfortable with the rotation. Maybe on my own?”

“Okay, that sounds great!” He smiled. “Just about anyone is going to be happy to have you over, so take your time in deciding.”

I nodded and watched the others, my eyes especially lingering on Ives. He was especially gorgeous. And he had Niner. I could see Niner again tonight. Oh shit. I certainly wanted to go with him if I could see Niner again. Once the waiter left, I looked up. “What are horses though?”

Everyone laughed, grabbing out some devices. Ives spoke up first. “They’re a type of grass eating, four-legged mammal, that have been used throughout history as transportation, racing, or as an agricultural working hand. They range in sizes, but most are quite large.”

“They look like this.” Valetta passed down her device, and I stared at the beautiful creature. It was so big and huggable and beautiful!!! “Have anything like that where you’re from?”

I kept staring at the horse. “I don’t think so. There aren’t a lot of big animals in the enclosure though.”

“Enclosure? Like…like a zoo?” Valetta whispered.

Oh, shit. They didn’t have any damn clue what I was talking about. I bit my lip. “On my world there are other sentient species besides humans, and because humans were too violent, the other species threw all humans into a small walled space to keep them away from any other sentient species.”

“Other species? Have they always been there or did they invade?” Everyone was staring at me again, and I instinctively made myself smaller.

“Are there many humans where you come from?” Garnet asked.

“From what we know, they’ve been around as long as humans have. And yes, there are a lot of humans around. They’re the ones I’ve really had to worry about, since I’ve been in the enclosure as well.”

“Is that where you lived? In the enclosure?” Lora whispered. “How small is it? Like a country or more like a city?”

I nodded. “It’s more like a small country. Multiple cities, but kind of cramped with all the humans stuffed inside. And yes, I lived there. I didn’t stay in one city for too long.”

“Yeah, I could see how…Jeez, that’s terrible,” Valetta hissed, taking a drink.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here instead of there,” Ryker said. “And I don’t blame you for not wanting to go back.”

I nodded. “Thank you. Could you tell me a little more about this world? Like any other animals I should know about? And, honestly, I was never allowed to hold a job, so could you tell me more about how to go about getting one?”

“Oh, uh sure. Let’s see…where to start.”

“This is Featherfall, one of the first sustainable cities that popped up about twenty years ago. Nearly everything here makes or harnesses energy.” Garnet pointed to the stained glass above us, and I looked up too. Cool! “That’s solarglass, takes power from the sun and runs the rest of the building. A lot of other cities in the nation started doing it too, but ours is a little more advanced. And that’s why you see so much green everywhere. Roof and balcony gardens have been growing for years.”

“It’s pretty now, but it hasn’t always been,” Ryker interrupted. “A few decades ago, we were on the brink of running out of clean water. Nearly all plant life was dying off an humans were on their way too.”

“As far as getting a job, that shouldn’t be too hard,” Lora shrugged. “We can get you registered for a work permit, see about setting you up for citizenship. I had to do that a few years ago when I immigrated in. I doubt it would be anymore complicated for you. We’ll get you all set up.”

“And through all the red tape.” Valetta winked. “Do you know of something you might like to do? We can always browse through the net and see what we can find.”

My cheeks burned again. “Anything with animals? I really like them.”

“Oh, I bet we can definitely find something like that! I think you’d be really good at that.” She smiled. “And maybe this weekend we can explore the city, see what might catch your eye. I know off the top of my head there are plenty of shelters around, or, if you end up liking training, we might be able to get you into a program like that!”

I nodded, smiling a little. This was going to be great! I’d be able to get a job with animals! “I would like that. Animals are just so amazing.”

“I’ll ask around too and see what we might be able to find for you,” Ryker said. “I know a few people who work for animal rehabilitation places and see if maybe they have any ideas if they don’t have openings themselves.”

Ives nodded. “We have traditional k-9 units at the station whose trainers work for a third party company. They may have intern positions. But I think getting to know the city and what options are available would be best. Find what you enjoy and are comfortable with doing.”

They were all so amazing. “Yes, I’d love to get to know the city. It’s a lovely place already. But that all sounds wonderful. I can’t believe I’ll actually be able to have a job.” It sounded foolish, but I’d never had the chance to get a job.

“We need to take you out shopping,” Lora giggled, while Garnet rolled his eyes. “She’s going to need her own things.”

“I’ve got some spare clothes and stuff if you need ‘em in the meantime,” Valetta said. “You look like you could fit into them.” She pinched her straw between her teeth but grunted with a sudden jolt, glancing over at Garnet. My cheeks just got hotter.

“That and if she needs a toothbrush or if she wants her own soaps and accessories. She’s going to want her own things,” Lora added, perking as the waiter brought out plates and started handing them out.

I stared at the huge meal they set before me, and I couldn’t believe it. All this? Just for me? My mouth watered, but I ducked my head first. “I can’t pay any of you back yet. I’m sorry.”

Everyone started talking at once, trying to tell me that I didn’t have to worry about paying them back, but still. Why would anyone buy such a big meal for someone they barely knew? But I still couldn’t stop myself from starting to eat. It was so fucking amazing.

“You’re practically part of the team,” Ryker said. “And this is what we’re here to do, to look out for people. It wouldn’t be right if we expected you to pay us back.”

“If we expected payment, we wouldn’t offer.” Lora smiled.

“Let us make up for all the assholes back where you’re from,” Garnet said. Once all the plates were passed out, they started eating too, and it got quiet.

Beau watched me with a smile. “So? What do you think? Is it different than where you’re from?”

I was halfway through the steak by now, and I was finally filling my stomach. I’d actually feel full! “The food’s really good. I don’t usually have such fancy food. And…I still don’t understand why everyone’s so nice. Might not for a while.”

Ives nodded, and I frowned, just now noticing that Beau and Ives weren’t eating. Were they not able to? That wasn’t fair. “That’s alright, it took some time for me to understand it as well. But it’s understandable if this is an extreme change for you. We understand.”

“Ives was originally made for military operations,” Beau whispered. “He didn’t really have any socializing programs like I did. He had to learn it from everyone else, I think from everyone here, actually.”

“You’ll get used to it. Just take one day at a time, alright kid?” Ryker smiled at me.

I nodded but fell quiet, finishing up my meal as I thought about everything. They were all so nice, and I didn’t know what to do. Was there a way I could make it up to them? As I fell quiet, the others chatted around me, but I barely listened. I just could barely believe that such kind people existed.

Once everyone was basically finished, Valetta looked around. “Anyone want anything else? I might get another shot? G? Chess?” Garnet was slumped, looking like he might topple onto Beau. He just smirked and shook his head, and Valetta looked over at me.

I barely felt anything from the alcohol, so I nodded. “I’ll take another whiskey.”

Valetta pumped her fist in the air and headed over to the bar with an unbalanced skip. Everything was getting nice and dark now, and it still didn’t feel too cold. The jacket Garnet had given me was so warm.

Beau turned to me suddenly. “Don’t feel like you have to get up and come to work with whoever you stay with. You can rest and relax. We can always swing by and pick you up while on patrol. Everyone kinda gets up early, so don’t think that you have to.”

I didn’t want to be alone if I could help it, and anyway, I never slept in. “I’m a light sleeper, so I’ll wake up whenever someone else gets up. But if you’d rather me stay, I will.”

“Well, it’s…it’s up to you, really. We don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped.”

“Can do a ride-along.” Garnet leaned back to look at me. “Just hang out all day, whenever.” He waved at the air, and Beau whispered something to him. “Oh, yeah, I mean yinz could go see Mikki.”

“Oh, that’s true. But it’s only your first real day, so you can do whatever you like. Take your time.”

I shook my head. “It…really doesn’t matter to me.”

Valetta returned, and I took a large drink. She sat down, looking over at me. “So, how are you liking things so far? Whiskey helping any?”

I nodded. “It’s really good, and the food here is some of the best I’ve had.”

“Glad to hear it. I think you’ll really like things once you get to take a look around. Or after a good night’s sleep. Know you’ve got to be exhausted.”

I nodded again. “Yeah. I think I’ve had…six hours of sleep in the past seven days?”

“Whoo! Rock on,” Garnet cheered.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s an insomniac,” Beau scolded.

“Shit girl, you definitely need some sleep then. Like a week to recover.” Valetta took a sip from her glass and leaned on the table. “We’re gonna get you somewhere comfy to sleep tonight. Don’t you worry.”

I frowned. It wasn’t that bad, was it? “I guess I need to decide who I want to stay with?”

Valetta nodded. “Let’s see. Ryker has an apartment smack dab in the middle of down town, it’s never quiet.” Ryker opened his mouth to probably argue, but he closed his mouth and shrugged. “Lora has a house just on the edge of the suburbs, so there’s dogs barking all the time. Ives has an apartment like sixty floors off the ground. Garnet has an apartment on the far end of town, like good luck driving all the way out there.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s not that far.”

“And I’ve got a swank little apartment just a few blocks from the station. Very modern. Brand new bed.”

“Ives’s is new. I think he just finished furnishing it a month or so ago,” Beau said.

“Three weeks ago,” he corrected.

I paused. Valetta was gorgeous, but Ives was also gorgeous, and he had a dog. I bit my lip. “If it’s okay, I think I might want to start with Ives.” My cheeks burned. “Especially if Niner’s there. But if not, I’d still love to go.”

“I don’t think that would be a problem at all.” Ives nodded. “Niner will be there as well, which I hope may make your stay better.”

“Ryker, if you need me to, I can ride with Beau for a ride home if you’re taking Ives and Chess home,” Lora said. “That way it would be fewer stops for everyone, and if you need to leave sooner.”

“If that’s easier.” Ryker nodded, turning to me. “Please don’t feel rushed or that you have to stay out late. I usually save the late nights for the weekends, so we can go whenever you’re ready.”

I couldn’t help but smile when Ives mentioned Niner. This would be amazing. “It really doesn’t matter to me. I don’t want to mess up anything.”

“If you’re tired we can go ahead and head out.” Ryker leaned around to whisper. “Judging by how quickly Garnet’s sinking, he probably won’t be here much longer. So you’re not messing anything up.”

“I’m used to not having a lot of sleep, so please don’t leave on my behalf.”

“Look, I’m an old man. I rather leave sooner than later,” Ryker chuckled.

“We all know we can’t stay out late anyway,” Valetta snickered. “Last thing we need is the whole squad down and out during shift. Don’t feel bad. Trust me, this won’t be the last time we get to do this. You should go ahead and head out. Get a good night’s sleep. You’ve earned it, girl.”

I nodded, finishing up my whiskey and slumping a little. I was really fucking tired, honestly. “Okay. I give in.” I made sure to keep my voice lighthearted.

“No shame in the game.” Ryker finished his drink, standing up and tossing the keys to Ives. “If you want, drop me off at home bright-eyes and you two can use the car. I’ll call a rideshare to get to work.”

“Are you certain?” Ives watched him, but Ryker nodded.

Beau placed a hand on my shoulder. “Call me if you need anything. Although, I know Ives is going to take good care of you.”

I stood up and smiled at him. “Thanks. For everything. I will.” I glanced again at Garnet and remembered the connection they had. I leaned closer so I could whisper. “And we’ll have to decide on a date to meet up alone to really talk about who you’re interested in.”

Beau stood as well, laughing and hugging me. I hugged him tightly back. He was so comfortable. “Okay, we should do that. Try to get some good sleep, you’re safe here, I promise.”

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

maybe Y/N Stark is a new avenger, Peter see her before in a college party where they had very great sex. When she is introduced to everone. Wanda reading her thoughts finds out what happened between them. and CAOS. I love you xx

Okay see I love this because it plays into my favorite headcannon that (y/n) Stark is just a big party girl. My favorite trope is just like mean x soft, love someone who is just soft for their baby and that is so my favorite way to potray (y/n) Stark, like she’s just kind of brat expect for with Peter. Anyway I’m saying a big fat yes, and here she is. Hope you like it babe! Love you xx

Guys I am still doing requests and promts so please feel free to send some in, or even just hit me up, would love to be your bestie 💖

Awkward

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Summary: The first post hookup meetup is always a little awkward 

Prompts

Masterlist

//

(y/n)’s pov

New York city has to be the most magical place in the world, the lights are brighter, the buildings are taller, and the parties are way more awesome than the little boarding school dorm parties I’m used to. As a Stark it’s really just my social obligation to throw the best parties in the city though, and that’s a lot of pressure. I knew my New York debut would have to be awesome, so I rented out the 404 NYC and filled it to the brim with the best food and liquor money could buy, the most killer DJ I could find, and sent out an invitation to every socialite in the city. 

Then I invited Peter Parker, a boy I’ve only ever met in passing really, but he was important to my dad. Dad always used to tell me he thought we’d really get along, but we never really got the chance to know each other before dad passed away. Now that I’m in New York I want to try to be friends, he’s also the only avenger my age so if I want to carry on my dad’s legacy I think he’ll be a good teammate to have. From what I remember he was just a dorky, quiet kid, he’d hardly said two words to me the handful of times we had met. So you can only imagine my surprise when he walked in and the dorky little boy next door had become possibly the hottest boy in all of NYC. 

“Hey Peter,” I giggled as I waved to him, “I’m so glad you came.”

“Yeah, of course, I was a little surprised you invited me though…” he rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward smile.

“Oh yeah, I just figured a friend of daddy’s is a friend of mine,” I stopped one of the waiters walking by and passed Peter a drink, “Here, have this, it’s crazy good.”

He takes a little sip and nods, “Good. I’m glad you did, I was wondering if you were still gonna go to college out here after everything that happened.”

“Of course! I love New York,” I wink before taking a big swig of my own drink, “Plus I kind of wanted to give the whole Avengers thing a shot.”

“I heard, Fury said you’ve been talking about helping out.”

I nod, “Yeah, I don’t know if I really want to be a superhero per say, but it’s my dad’s legacy and I want to help out in some way.”

“Cool,” he blushed as he glanced down at his drink, “Sorry, parties aren’t really my thing still, I actually kind of just came to see how you were.”

“Aw,” I coo, “That’s so cute, I thought you would be, you seem more confident, you actually look me in the eyes now, mostly.”

He looked back up at me with a smile, “More confident sure, but I still don’t really go to parties.”

“Well you’re like an honorary Stark aren’t you?”

His whole face flushed red at that, “I don’t know about that.”

“Nah, you totally are, which means you’ve got to party like one,” I push the drink to his lips, “Chug that and we’ll get you another, then I’ll teach you how to dance,” I wink, downing my own drink to demonstrate.

He takes a deep breath and down the whole cup in one drink.

/

The first thing I notice when I wake up is how unusually warm it is, then it’s the arm around my waist. I roll over groggily and rub my eyes, giving myself just a few moments to take everything in. The first thing I spot is Peter, laying in bed besides me, naked. After checking him out for a second, what happened last night comes crashing back to my mind.  I feel my face start to burn, don’t get me wrong, he was great in bed, but I just know I totally corrupted him. Oops. 

It’s a little hard to feel bad when the sex was that good.

Peter’s eyes flutter open, looking over me sleepily before going wide eyed, “H-Hi,” he stutters.

“Hey,” I smile back, “You’re like a little space heater you know?”

“Uh, thanks,” he sits up very suddenly, looking a little frantic as he grabs his phone, “I-I’m sorry I really have to go, I h-have plans.”

I frown, watching him scramble back into his clothes, “No problem, I’m sure I’ll see you around?”

He nods, not meeting my eyes as he pulls his shirt on, “Y-Yeah, see you!” he’s out the door fast enough to give me whiplash.

Did I just get smashed and dashed by Peter Parker?

/

I feel awkward about what happened with Peter, I mean I had a good time but the more I think about it it just seemed like something was off that morning. I want to apologize or something, but I don’t have his number or anything. I was hoping he’d be at the Avengers tower while I’m in today, but no such luck. I feel really bad, I had a lot of fun with him, I really did want to be friends. He just really doesn’t seem like the type to hit it and quit it so I really feel like I did something wrong…

“Oh hey kid,” Bucky breaks my train of thought and draws my attention away from the papers I was looking over, “What are you up to?” “Looking over some of my dad's old suit plans,” I hum, “What about you?”

“After mission snack,” he smiles as he opens the fridge, “Peter and Wanda were right behind me.”

My eyes widen and I look right to the door, waiting for them to enter and debating what I should do. I guess just ask him to talk?

He meets my eyes as soon as he enters the room, his cheeks flush instantly and he clears his throat, “Oh, hey (y/n).”

“Hey,” I smile back.

Screw that fucking Spiderman suit, he should go to jail for looking like that.

“Hi (y/n)” Wanda smiles as she walks in behind him, “How are you?”

“Good, you?”

“Starving,” she rubs her stomach with a smile, “I need a snack,” she heads right for the kitchen while Peter just stands a few feet away from me. “How was your mission?” I ask.

“Good, nothing special really,” he crosses his arms over his chest, “How have you been?”

“Good.”

How do I bring this up? I mean normally if I hook up with someone I don’t care that much about talking to them after, but I really liked hanging out with Peter at the actual party too. He’s awesome in bed, let’s not pretend he isn’t, but he’s funny too, and wicked smart. Plus he’s a lot nicer than most guys, I don’t know, I just really got along with him. I really hope I didn’t ruin things between us.

“Well I’m just gonna grab a snack too,” Peter pushes his hand through his hair, a light pink color dusting his cheeks and nose, “I’m pretty tired…”

“I bet, you should get some rest,” I cross my legs and turn back to the notes, only to spot Wanda staring at us, “What?”

She smirks, “Nothing, nothing.”

I frown, “Okay, not nothing, what is it?” “You two are just having some interesting thoughts,” she snickers.

Both Peter and I flush red while Bucky cocks his head in confusion, “What are they thinking about?”

She gets ready to speak but I’m quick to interject, “Nothing.”

“The kids were just having a little fun,” she smirks, “Come on Bucky, I think they need a little alone time.”

He went wide eyed, “You two better not try anything in here.”

“Jesus Christ we won’t!” I snap, “You two are gross!”

“Oh I’m gross?” Wanda raises a brow, “I know exactly what’s going on in that little head of yours,” she glances towards Peter, “She’s into the suit Peter.”

“Hey!” I glare at her while he blushes, “Don’t kink shame me.”

“I’m gonna go throw up,” Bucky snatches up his food on his way out. “You better leave to,” I threaten Wanda, pointing my pen at her as threateningly as I can.

She starts laughing, “Yeah I’m getting out of here before you two start getting heated,” she winks to me as she saunters out of the room, “Wrap it up this time!”

“Hey!” I snap, my cheeks flushing once more, “I have an IUD,” I try to assure Peter, who seems to be malfunctioning, “Uh, you good?”

His mouth hangs open for a minute before he speaks, “I’m really sorry about them.”

I shrug, “It’s fine. I really did want to talk to you alone though, I’m really sorry about the party.”

He knits his brow, “Why are you sorry? I had fun at the party.”

“It seemed like you regretted it,” I bite the inside of my cheek nervously.

He purses his lips and shakes his head, “I don’t regret it. I shouldn’t have left like I did though, I promise I’m not normally like that.”

“Oh,” I don’t really know what to say, “So you really just had to go?”

He averts his eyes before shaking his head, “I kinda panicked?”

“Panicked?” I chuckle, some of my nerves starting to ease out, “Why?”

“I just haven’t really done that before…” he blushed.

My jaw falls open, “Oh my God Peter I am so sorry, I had no idea. I should have asked if I was your first th-”

“No, no! Not like that, I’ve slept with people before,” he shakes his head, “It’s just always been with long term girlfriends. I just didn’t really know what to do when we got up and I panicked.”

I can’t help the small laugh that escapes from my lips, “That’s really cute Peter, and I mean what you did was fine, I was just a little disappointed I guess. I mean I had a lot of fun just hanging out too so I was kind of hoping we could have kept hanging out, but if you just wanted a one night stand that’s fine too.”

“W-Well I wanted to keep hanging out too, I guess I should have just asked,” he laughs lightly at himself, “Sorry.”

“You can make it up to me by taking me on a date sometime,” I shrug, “You know, just if you still wanted to hang out sometime.”

He goes wide eyed before clearing his throat, “Oh, um, yeah, I should do that. Do you, uh, have plans tonight?”

I shake my head, “Nope.”

“Cool, uh, would you want to go to the movies then?”

I nod eagerly, “I would love to.”

“O-Okay!” he grins ear to ear, “I’m gonna go shower though, and change! I’ll be back in ten?”

“I’ll be right here,” I smile back, “Can’t wait.”

“Me either,” he begins walking away but spins suddenly loudly declaring, “Oh!” before he spins back around. He presses a quick peck to my lips and bites his lips, “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

I blush, my stomach filling with anxious butterflies, “I’ll be waiting.”

[honeytae]

You’re my muse every night.

hi bubs, happy wednesday! (or whatever day it is for you <3) this is like...possibly the most self indulgent piece i’ve written. it’s just some really simple fluffy joon content with a dash of “i’m so in love with you it hurts” which is exactly what i feel for namjoon so. fitting. the self indulgence is so so real. okay anyways i just hope you all enjoy :)

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters

genre: fluff

word count: 1.7k

It was cold. 

The icy sheets were the first thing your brain registered as your body came to, stretching across the mattress with a groan at the tightening and untightening of your muscles.

You felt disorientated; you definitely weren’t ready to wake up yet. But god, this bed was freezing. Why was it so cold?

Reaching out for your own personal space heater of a boyfriend, you let out a whiny “hmph” when you came up empty-handed, peeling your eyes open to confirm that Namjoon was no longer beside you.

Lifting your head to glance over at the door of your en-suite bathroom, you frowned at the lack of light flooding into the bedroom, huffing as you sat up to swing your legs over the empty mattress.

The time stamp on your alarm clock told you that it was three hours after midnight, much past your usual bedtime. You should be sleeping.

Every normal person should be sleeping. 

Even if you hadn’t looked at the time, you would’ve known you should be sleeping. Your limbs felt far too heavy, your eyes were mildly sore, and you felt groggy beyond belief. 

Wanting to check again, you listened for any noise from behind the slightly ajar bathroom door, quickly coming to the conclusion that you did at least thrice a week.

Namjoon was working. He was working when he was supposed to be sleeping, like every other person on the planet whose schedules permitted them to after full days like he had.

Huffing as you walked back to the bed, your fingers began tugging at one of the blankets from atop your duvet, lazily wrapping it around your shoulders with a shiver. Even the soft fabric was icy to the touch from lack of human body warmth. 

“I’m gonna kill him.” You grumbled to yourself, slipping your feet into your slippers and beginning to shuffle out of the bedroom with a yawn. 

This was not the first time you had woken up in an empty bed. Not at all. In fact, it was often that you went to sleep in Namjoon’s arms and woke up in the middle of the night alone. 

You no longer wondered about what he could possibly be doing at this hour. 

Stubbornly walking through the apartment until you could see the light on in the kitchen, you stared for a moment at the familiar sight of your boyfriend hunched over the island as he scribbled in his notebook, pointer finger pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he concentrated on his penmanship. 

Shuffling further into the room, you examined the man, his lack of messy hair and clothes perfectly placed causing you to conclude that he’d probably not slept in the first place tonight. 

“What are you doing?” You croaked, Namjoon raising his eyebrows a bit in surprise as he looked up, obviously unknowing of your presence.

Smiling a bit at your appearance, Namjoon let his pencil rest on the paper, his own eyes wide awake as they peered into your sleepy ones. 

“What are you doing?” He smiled a bit at your appearance, grumpy expression softened by your swollen eyes and puffed out cheeks as you held the blanket around your body, the man reaching an arm out toward you to welcome you into his side. 

You easily accepted the invitation, stumbling toward him and collapsing into his side with a grunt. 

Namjoon only laughed at the noise, letting his hands leave the table to instead hug you to him, both arms wrapped around your torso to secure your sleepy figure.

“What are you doing? You okay?” He asked, voice low as he concentrated on your sleepy features. Your eyes drooped as you tried to look at him, nodding to dismiss his question and find out the true cause of him being out here. 

“Hm, you seem tired.” He observed, frowning at the sight of you almost nodding off in his arms. 

“I had to come check on you.” You said, bracing yourself with a hand on the counter to keep yourself awake and properly focus your hazy attention on the man. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt in a clingy action. You knew he had left your bed for one of two reasons: either inspiration had struck, or other, not as light thoughts had invaded his brain.

You knew how complex his brain was. You knew how dark it could get in that head of his. And you never wanted him to struggle alone.

“I’m okay, love.” He answered calmly, his tone soft and stable as he spoke the words. Staring into his dark orbs, you detected no deflection of his gaze, only blinking back at you with a gentle smile lifting the corners of his lips. No signs of him faking anything for your sake. He was okay. 

Nodding at his answer, you rubbed the pad of your thumb over the soft material of his shirt still held in your hand, humming as he collected your fingers in his and squeezed lightly. It was a gesture born out of appreciation more than anything; before you, it hadn’t been every day that someone was actively checking in on him. Now, it was just a part of his daily routine. 

“What are you writing about?” You perked up, the man quirking a sideways grin as he looked up at your curious expression.

“You think I’m gonna tell you?” 

At his words, you knitted your eyebrows together in offense, lifting your gaze from the words scrawled across the paper to shoot him a look. 

“Why shouldn’t you? You did drag me out of bed, after all. It better be good, Joon.” You jokingly nudged at his thigh, the man’s features fading slightly as he fixated on the remaining imprints on your cheek from the pillowcase you’d been contentedly sleeping on only minutes ago. 

“Did I wake you?” He inquired softly, the guilt in his tone causing you to shake your head as you reached over to run your hand through his hair. The action caused his forehead to be revealed for half a second before the hair stubbornly laid back over his skin, leaving his bangs practically in his eyes as he stared up at you.

“The current temperature of our bedroom woke me. But a toasty boyfriend would’ve been nice to cuddle up to.” You said with a raise of your brows, challenging the man with a grin.

Laughing quietly to himself, Namjoon slid his hands beneath your arms, making you squeal slightly as he pulled you onto his lap, rubbing his hand up and down your arm to create heat as he hugged you closer to him. 

“Is this better, love?” He asked, smile widening against your temple when you hummed. 

It was nice. His body heat was incomparable, his touch electrifying as every area of your skin against his practically burned with the energy it created within you. 

“Hm. It’d be a whole lot better if we were in bed, though.” You commented honestly, wishing you were laying in your bed beside the man you loved, both sleeping in order to rest up for work in the morning. 

At your words, Namjoon sighed, knowing you were right but unmoving in his quest to finish writing his thoughts tonight. It was simply better to do so when the thoughts were fresh in his brain. If he waited until the morning, they’d be gone. 

“Baby, go back to bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?” He soothed his request with a pucker of his lips against your forehead, eyes lighting with amusement as you shook your head. 

“No?” He repeated, making you shake your head again in defiance as you clung to his shoulders. 

“Do I have to make you go back to bed?” He raised his eyebrows challengingly, hand moving beneath the blanket draped over your body to rest on your hip, beginning to wiggle his fingers continually against the skin there.

“J-Joon! No!” You screeched, the man laughing as you began shaking with giggles, squirming on his lap as he continued tickling at the spot. Eventually caving to your begs for him to stop, Namjoon shook his head at you as you remained on his lap, trying to catch your breath, but still refusing to go back to bed. 

“I’ll only be a few minutes.” He repeated, causing you to stare at him with a doubtful raise of your eyebrows, knowing damn well he would be much longer than that. 

Maybe an hour, at the least.

“Promise.” He said, causing you to chuckle as he offered his pinky to you. 

“Then I’ll wait it out with you.” You shrugged, locking your little finger around his with a knowing smile as he sighed.

“I don’t want to keep you up, though.” He said, glancing at the clock approaching a now god-awful hour in the morning. 

“It’s okay, Joonie.” You said, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek, the man turning his face to gently purse his lips against your own before pulling back to look at you.

“I’m actually kind of glad you’re here. It’s always better when my muse is in the flesh.” He smiled softly, you shyly dropping another kiss to his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder again. 

“I’m your muse tonight?” You wondered out loud, the man confirming with a hum as he picked up his pencil again. 

“You’re my muse every night. How could I not write a million songs about you?” He squeezed you tighter to him while you blew out a breath at his words, cheeks heating up against his skin causing him to wholeheartedly grin at just how flustered he could make you. 

“Joon, stop.”

“Stop writing songs about you?” He asked for clarification, the teasing in his tone lifting all possible tension from the question. 

“I,” you started, “well, no.” You answered honestly, Namjoon tipping his head back in laughter at the exchange as he affectionately squeezed you in his arms. 

“Good,” he sighed when he had composed himself, “you make it too easy.” He said, smiling at you as you brushed some of his messed bangs out of his eyes again. 

“Charmer. Just finish writing your song so we can go to bed, please.” You directed, Namjoon dutifully nodding as he stifled a grin. Taking his pencil back between his fingers, he twirled the utensil once in his hand, giving you a fond glance before setting the lead back on the paper.

“Yes, ma’am.”

[multiplefandomsblog]

[Identity V] Domestic!VAL x Gn!Reader (HCs)

request; I’ve been having a rough day, so may I request a poly VAL (Victor, Andrew, and Luca) x Reader? Maybe some domestic headcanons?

warnings!: sfw, very fluff, reader uses gender neutral pronouns, polyamorous relationship, domestic, mentions of burning down a kitchen, robots gone rogue, nearly getting hit by a bus, comedic violence, cuddling, mentions of DILFs, irresponsability, slight neglecting, you all suck at cooking except for [redacted]- no spoilers!!

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

⭒ You would all live in a little apartment because Victor thought it was cute( and you all have no right to deny his adorable little butt )— despite it being way too cramped and messy for 4 people to live in, you all somehow made it work.

⭒ Victor would force everyone to have movie night. EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT.

⭒ Everyone has to take turns walking Wick by Victor’s orders, but Andrew gets the occasional free pass because he gets real bad anxiety every time he passes by one of your neighbours as he walks Wick.

⭒ “Oh god, do i look at them in the eye? Do I even look at them? What if I look at the wrong spot? If I look at them, will they think it’s creepy? But what if they try to wave at me? What if-!?”

⭒ You get it.

⭒ Luca often spoils Wick, and/or overfeeds him when Victor isn’t around to scold him for it. For that, Wick has literally no shame when he pesters Luca for what he wants, because he knows he’ll get it.

⭒ Everyone would rush to you when you say you’re going out for a walk, longing for alone time with you. They’d all play a game/fight to see who gets to walk with you, but they all end up losing because you’re already out the door.

⭒ Out of the three, Luca would be the most jealous/protective one out of the relationship. He’s just a teensy bit insecure, mixed with the fear of you all hating him because he can’t remember anything, and he’s no good for you, and-

⭒ That being said, Luca doesn’t get jealous when you three spend time together without him; he’s usually pretty busy, so he doesn’t get much time with you all in the first place. It reassures him and makes him feel less guilty for diving into his work and neglecting you all sometimes.

⭒ Honestly, it makes him really happy to see you all together. But if you take a group photo without him; silent treatment for 1 month. 

⭒ Victor or Andrew are always the ones to end fights/debates, Luca being the one that starts them.

☆ “... What do batteries run on?” “Probably you.”

☆ “Do one legged ducks swim in circles?” “...” “Hold on-” *metallic rummaging in the bg* 

☆ “If I eat myself, will I get twice as big, or disappear completely?-” Fed up with his bullshit, Victor would all of a sudden start signing aggressively, “NOW LISTEN HERE YOU PIECE OF SH-” It almost looked as if Victor was using his hands to ready up a running punch.

... Wait-

“ViCtOr PLEASE!” 

⭒ Victor would steal everyone’s hoodies, and obviously, it’s always adorably oversized on him, ugh- ❤️

⭒ You guys tend to share all your clothes. None of you have your own clothes, if it fits anyone else, they’re wearing it too. 

⭒ The laundry would get mixed up anyway.

⭒ Andrew always picks up everyone else’s leftover trash or laundry, taking on the role of the responsible mom in the relationship. He’s actually pretty bad at taking care of himself, but that eventually gets easier when he has you three to take care of too. 

⭒ Everyone collectively knows sign language to understand Victor because he’s mute.

⭒ Your house would have 2 queen-sized beds because of how small your house is. Two people would share a bed each; you often rotate with who sleeps with whom. Luca stays in his room though, he won’t rotate so you three are going to have to take turns with who sleeps with him. 

⭒ Honestly, no one will admit this, but Luca is probably the warmest and most pleasant one to sleep with. He’s like a walking space heater; his hands are always so warm, and he always cuddles with them roaming everywhere. That being said, he does twitch and tic when he’s still awake in bed; so you’re going to have to wait for him to sleep first if you don’t want to accidentally get hit.

⭒ Andrew is the coldest to sleep with, and insists on being little spoon. Not verbally; but if you ask him to be big spoon, he’ll stop and stare at you, as if communicating, “You think I can big spoon? Who do you think I am?” He’ll try at first, because he loves all of you— but you’re going to wake up with him as little spoon.

⭒ Victor doesn’t really cuddle when he sleeps. I think he’ll probably just have one of his hands touching his partner, or just clutching at the material of their clothing— but other than that, he just sleeps normally. 

⭒ Andrew and Victor are usually the ones to go shopping for groceries, Luca can’t be trusted with buying things and needs supervision if left at home. 

⭒ There had been too many times when he used the trolley(full of groceries, mind you) as a vehicle, and almost got himself, as well as many others hurt. He claims he, “Didn’t see the huge bus coming at him,” and, “Didn’t hear the loud shrieking for him to stop, as well as the honking and beaming.”

⭒ When cuddling all together, Andrew would actually be the big spoon, Victor would be the spoon in the very middle (Wick would be the littlest spoon if he decides to join in) and you and Luca would be hold him like that. 

⭒ Andrew is mainly the head of the apartment, Victor is second and command; and together, they’re unstoppable.

⭒ Different parts of the house is separated for different stuff.

⭒ Luca would reserve a small working corner for him to focus on his inventions and machines.

⭒ Another corner for Victor to write letters and Wick’s stuff, a corner for your hobbies and a corner for Andrew’s shovels and dead bodies.

⭒ Everybody takes turns to prepare dinner.

⭒ Luca usually just gets take-out if he’s in charge of food; he doesn’t know how to cook, and that’s probably for the better.

⭒ However, there had been a time when he tried to construct a machine that could cook by itself.

☆ It worked at first; everything was fine and dandy, you were all proud of him.

... Until it went rogue.

Let’s just say you all had to move the next day.

⭒ Victor would probably be decent at cooking, though there tended to be a few things are burnt or undercooked, otherwise not too shabby.

⭒ Victor would also make sure to include a dessert. It’s usually store bought but he does try baking if he has the time.

⭒ If you guys were good buddies with your neighbours, Victor would mail little box cakes to them with a small letter.

⭒ Believe it or not, Andrew would be the best cook out of everyone. 

⭒ He started out rusty, but it soon became a hobby after watching countless chef videos. Team Jamie Oliver, screw Gordon Ramsay. I mean, working as a grave-keeper, there has to be something else you do to keep your humanity. 

⭒ Andrew has a fly swatter specifically bought and used for swatting Luca when he tries to steal some food while Andrew is still cooking.

⭒ Everyone’s mouth waters when he starts to bring the food to the dinner table.

⭒ Andrew gets praised every time he makes dinner, and he nearly passes out on the spot. 

⭒ Everybody clap for DILF Andrew—

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Wilhemina Came To A Halt

Requested by anon: “Wilhemina confesses her love to reader on New Years but the fireworks are too loud”

A/N: thank you anon, I really loved writing this fic <3 Shoutout to @mckennamayfairgoode ; your writing has contaminated mine, there is SO much burning in this one x

Word count: ≃ 5 200

When Wilhemina pressed the doorbell, her heart was beating faster than it had ever beaten in her whole life. Her palms were embarrassingly clammy and left glistening shapes on the head of her cane.

A few weeks ago, this state would have terrified and revolted her. Now she accepted it as her new normal whenever she was about to see you.

The truth was, she – the door opened and there you were, flashing the most beautiful, warmest of smiles at her that annihilated all the thoughts in Wilhemina’s brain. She felt incredibly small and incredibly tall at the same time, as if she could melt at your feet and touch the stars.

A few weeks ago, Wilhemina would have been incredibly embarrassed to think that she was the kind of person who could smile giddily at another person for an incredibly long time, and later remember it as one of the best moments of her life. The knowledge was only slightly unpleasant now. It was made easier by the fact that you always, always did the same. Just stood there before her with a smile shedding light on her and your gaze lost deep in her gaze as her heart thrummed in her ears and her fingertips tingled.

Moments like this were too short and lasted forever. She cherished every one of them, collected them selfishly. For the truth was, she was head over heels in love with you.

The revelation had come to her all of a sudden, bursting free after months of denial. She had no idea what to do with it. She carried the love in her, a burden, stifling her and scratching her and painting the world in hundreds of bright colors. She saw beauty in things she had always despised or found ugly. Once, you had exclaimed at the elegance of a flying butterfly – she had fallen in love with butterflies.

Paradoxically, every other human being she found even more pathetic and idiotic than before, since she knew now that they didn’t have the brains to see how beautiful, how charming, and how kind you were. How could they set eyes on you and not lose their heart? There was only one explanation: they were morons. Hopeless idiots. How empty their life was, how empty hers had been. She despised every single one of them who did not fall at your feet or build a shrine to you.

From Monday to Friday she would wake up with an eagerness to see everything that you would touch, to hear everything that you would say to her at work. She would do her hair and apply her makeup with a beating heart that almost made her forget the ache in her back. Painting her face had acquired a new meaning: she no longer only did it to hide the loathsome but also to please, to enchant, in the hope that maybe you would find a glimpse of the beauty you sowed every day of your life. Surely if your fingertips touched her cheek, her skin would light up and shine, and even the world, taking one look at her, would blush.  

The weekends had to pass as quickly as possible. And then they no longer had to, for you started inviting her to your place, on picnics, to the pictures. Talking to you was easy, listening was a blessing. She found that when she was with you, secrets slipped from her mouth and your hands never hurt, but cradled instead.

So here was the truth. Wilhemina was in love. Deeply, infuriatingly. With all the passion that had lay dormant within her. The tiny part of her that had always held on to hope had known that the day she would fall, there would be no restraint: she would love with all that she had. Her world shook and reshaped itself around you. It chose a new sun, and its light reached dark corners that had never been warmed up before. It threatened to thaw the ice in her head and in her chest. It was dripping already.

Now she treasured the beating of her heart. You had given her life value just by looking at her.

So it was with the weight of her love enlightening her from within that she took off her coat and handed it to you with a small smile. And the people in the room who turned to glance curiously at her as she entered, saw the glow and smiled to themselves, as one does who feels in the air the warmth of the upcoming spring.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you beamed at her; then added low in her ear: “I don’t know half of the people in this room, and I’m not sure the other half I like.”

A small laugh ran past Wilhemina’s teeth.

Your aunt had given you the keys to her flat for New Year’s Eve, since she was away for work and her windows offered one of the best views on the fireworks show. You had invited a few colleagues and friends from Kineros Robotics, who in their turn had invited a few friends of their own. Before you’d known it, you had lost control over the guest list. But you had shrugged good-naturedly, and merely said that this kind of thing happened all the time.

“Is that the man who tried to sell Jeff and Mutt sexy underwear for the robots?” Wilhemina asked, nodding at a man who sat sipping wine on the couch.

You pressed your mouth against Wilhemina’s shoulder to stifle a giggle. “Yes,” you breathed. “He came with a suitcase.” You straightened up, met her eyes with a flash of mischief in yours. “I’ll ask him to try them on on you.”

Wilhemina waved a hello at Mutt just so she could turn her face away from you as heat flooded her cheeks. She didn’t fool you, though. You bit down on a grin, and wrapped one hand around her wrist as you asked her, as casually as possible, if she wanted a drink.

Wilhemina’s eyes flicked down to your hand, as wide and shining as they always were when you touched her. As your fingertips stroked her skin, her cheeks turned that soft pink that was now and forever your favorite color.

“You are such a tease,” Mutt had once told you, a little reproachfully, after he had passed a very flushed Wilhemina hurrying out of your office. “The poor girl’s gonna die of yearning.”

“No she won’t,” you had answered, a fond, dreamy smile on your lips. “Part of loving her is waiting for her. I bet you she doesn’t even know what’s happening to her.”

Wilhemina tapped her cane on the floor. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it earlier,” she said, eyes avoiding yours.

“That’s alright,” you smiled. “You’re here.” You tilted your head to the side, trying your best to fight your grin as you waited for her to collect herself and meet your gaze again. “Care for a drink?”

Wilhemina followed you across the room, finally taking in her surroundings. There were people sitting on the couch, people on the balcony, people speaking in groups everywhere. Some of them were wearing fancy, glittery clothes; some were drunk; others were dancing to the mellow indie music that tried to make itself heard over the chatter of voices. Cold air wafted through the French windows that led out onto the balcony. Wilhemina’s eyes fell curiously on a group sitting on the floor before she realized they were playing spin-the-bottle. A boy and a girl pulled away from each other with disgusted laughs.

“Shall we?” you teased, with a mock bow.

Wilhemina shook her head urgently, confusion and nervousness written all over her face. She hurried away from the group as fast as she could, and only stopped when she had reached the kitchen.

You fixed her and yourself a drink, then took her on a tour of the flat. The place was quite small, and very crowded, which gave you an excellent excuse to stand as close to Wilhemina as possible, and brush her arm or shoulder with yours whenever you could. Once, as your fingers grazed her hip, Wilhemina almost tripped over her own feet, and you had to cough to try and hide the smug giggle that escaped you.

Wilhemina delighted in the art reproductions you pointed at, the yellowing plants you bent over quizzically, the carpets your feet threaded, the battered old book you picked up from the floor. Even the handle of the bathroom door your fingers closed around looked to her like the most beautiful handle she had ever seen. She skimmed her fingers over it when you were not looking. Part of her was growling that she was being so very ridiculous, but the voice was very weak, drowning in the sea of joy and giddiness that was her mind.

You took her hand as you led her outside onto the balcony. Wilhemina shivered, so you draped a blanket over her shoulders, which she accepted, even though she hadn’t shivered from the cold.

“Look at the view,” you smiled dreamily, leaning against the railing. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Yes,” Wilhemina breathed, looking at you.

Perhaps, she thought, if she shivered again despite the blanket, you would press her close against you for warmth.

She chased the thought away. But it came back, singing and drunk.

She rubbed her arm exaggeratedly.

“Are you cold?” you asked, straightening up.

“A little,” she answered harshly.

“Then let’s go back inside. I don’t want you to catch a chill.”

“I’m fine”, she retorted, still as harshly.

You eyed her confusedly for a second or two.

Wilhemina rubbed her arm again.

A small, amused smile danced on your lips.

“Lucky for you,” you said, closing the space between her and you, “I’ve been told I’m a very good human heater.”

You wrapped your arms around her waist and pressed your front against her back, your chin coming to rest on her shoulder. Wilhemina was very, very stiff against you. But then, slowly, her body relaxed, as if melting in the warmth that oozed out of you and seeped through her clothes

You stayed like this, watching the city lights. Faint echoes of techno music drafted from somewhere on your right. You heard voices, a car honking. You couldn’t tell whether the quick heartbeat you could feel thrumming in your chest was Wilhemina’s or yours.

When you glanced up at her, her eyes were closed. She looked so different from the Wilhemina you had met so many months ago. There had been talks at work, that certainly Mutt and Jeff were paying her or fucking her to be kinder. Once, she had walked in on you pressing ice on your swollen cheek after you had thrown yourself at a big, tall man who had been making dirty jokes about her. Her fingers had skimmed your skin worriedly, big dark eyes scanning your face for any sign of pain. You had lied, invented an excuse as to why you had punched someone twice your size and weight. But God - no one would slander her on your watch.

You rubbed your chin on her shoulder, and stopped yourself at the last second from pressing a kiss on her cheek. Her skin was flushed from the cold and looked so incredibly soft.

“I’m gonna have to go back inside,” you grumbled. “I’m supposed to be the host.”

Wilhemina hummed her disapproval, eyes still closed.

“Will you manage without me?” you chuckled.

God, if you could just – nuzzle her cheek. If there could be no consequences. No risk of her stiffening, closing up, snapping at you, running away. If you could just – press a kiss.

You watched as her eyes fluttered open, and scanned the jeweled darkness in front of her.

“Of course,” she scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You gave her a gentle squeeze before you slowly peeled yourself off her. The process was almost physically painful, as if she were a part of you now, a new layer of skin. Your heart protested.

You weaved your way back inside to greet a few people who had just arrived. Wilhemina followed you and planted herself in a corner near the front door. She pretended to scan the small crowd, but her eyes regularly sought your face. Mutt and Jeff came up to her to share a few words and then disappeared into the kitchen. The rest of the guests, most of them Kineros Robotics employees, stayed away from her.

You crossed the living room carrying a bouquet of roses and smiled at her. A few minutes later, as you stepped back into the room talking on your phone, you looked her way and waved. Wilhemina moved to another corner when hers got invaded by two tipsy girls. Next time you appeared, you scanned the room questioningly, and your expression only relaxed when you found her again.

Wilhemina had never before in her life been someone else’s first priority. The idea that she was now, made her feel weird things she couldn’t quite comprehend. As if she were floating, or made of golden light as that of a summer evening. She could have burst into tears or bounced on her feet. Instead she returned your smile, and averted her eyes shyly.

Dear Lord, Wilhemina Venable didn’t get shy. What was wrong with her? She was being ridiculous and pathetic, and what’s worse, she was putting herself in danger. There were people in this room. People with eyes to see the soft pink of her cheeks and the nervous shaking of her hands. She should walk up to you, proud and threatening, tap her cane on the floor to scare you and then she should say something mean, something like “I love you” - no! she scolded herself, with a shiver of terror. Something mean! Something that would hurt! And she would say it loudly, she would make it boom and thunder for everyone in the room to hear and remember how strong and ruthless Wilhemina Venable was.

Here, you were waving at her again, with your face illuminated, and you were weaving your way to her through the crowd. Wilhemina tightened her grip on her cane and raised her chin and thought very hard of what she would say as you came closer and closer, you were here! right next to her, so very close she felt the air shaking and dancing in the joy your presence brought. A hand touching her wrist, warmth everywhere, she was melting into a puddle at your feet. You smirked knowingly at her and she felt herself blush, heart beating madly as you repeated what she had been too entranced to hear the first time: “Mina, I wanted to introduce you to my friend Anne.”

Mina! Her heart burst.

A breathless “Yes” was all she could manage to say.

God, she was pathetic. As more heat flooded her cheeks, as she noticed the amused, knowing expression on Anne’s face, something else rose in her. Something cold. Something all too familiar, that slid up her veins winding like a snake to beat up her heart. It left it bruised and crying.

Wilhemina raised her head and tried to swallow back the self-hatred. Like waves when the tide is coming in, it reached further.

You saw the change on her face and in her posture. You frowned, faltered a little under the sudden hardness in her eyes. As Anne characteristically started to ramble, you stubbornly held Wilhemina’s scowling gaze, and you wondered, as you had dozens of times before, how you could protect her from the blows when the blows were dealt by herself. How to cut open her chest and carefully remove the self-hatred. Put it in a box, throw away the key. And the sadness and the fear. Remove those, too.

Someone called for you, so you excused yourself and left Anne and Wilhemina together. The former set curious eyes on the latter and asked her questions in a cheerful, chiming voice. From behind her shields, Wilhemina spat out answers that soon weakened Anne’s enthusiasm. Anne refused to give up so soon, though. You had told her so much about Wilhemina, spoke of her with such light, such bright happiness in your voice and eyes that a few incivilities weren’t enough to send her away.

And Anne – Anne had been touched by you. She had been made sublime. Try as she might, Wilhemina couldn’t find ugliness in her features or clumsiness in her gestures. And Anne spoke of you with such kindness, in such high terms – when you came back, she let out a happy squeal and took your hand in hers.

Utter, complete idiot, Wilhemina tried to convince herself. Except Anne wasn’t an idiot. She too was aware of your supremacy. Wilhemina could see it, the way her eyes shone with admiration, the way she touched your arm and laughed too loudly at something you said.

Anne sat between Wilhemina and you on the couch as you people-watched and exchanged jokes and sipped your drinks. As minutes ticked by, Wilhemina felt herself slip into silence. Anne’s body next to hers was sending forth burning mockery that made her want to shrink back and curl in on herself. She sat with her back ramrod straight and her eyes glazed, fingers nervously playing with her empty glass, as thoughts she tried to silence nagged and mocked in her ears.

At one point, Anne stretched her body, arms curling up towards the ceiling and back arching elegantly, and Wilhemina had to look away to stop herself from throwing insults at her or bursting into tears – she didn’t know which would be more likely.

At 11:55, people started to sing excitedly. A young man grabbed Anne by the arm and led her into the kitchen. You stood up, and offered your hand to Wilhemina.

She hesitated one second, out of pride, before she slid her palm against yours. You laced your fingers with hers.

Those who were brave enough to stand in the cold had clustered on the balcony. You playful pushed a man to the side to request a place at the railing. The available space was small, so Wilhemina’s side was pressed against yours.

The city spread out below her was vibrating with happy expectation. She heard laughter, she heard joyful cries, she heard music. The cold breeze blew on her cheeks but the cold didn’t harm her. She was made of fire when your body was touching hers like that.

The streetlights went off, and an excited shiver ran through the city. You leaned in against the railing. Wilhemina turned her head to look at you.  

She watched, mesmerized, the fireworks in your eyes.

Your lips parted in silent admiration at the lights, and Wilhemina wondered whether anyone had ever looked as beautiful as you did in this moment. She doubted it. Jealously and selfishly she leaned closer to you to keep this secret treasure hidden from the rest of the world. You glanced at her, and your gaze lingered admiringly on her face before you shook yourself and focused your attention back on the fireworks show.  

When blue blended with red Wilhemina’s breath hitched, and something in her swelled like a wave. It was the genuine happiness on your face, the firmness of your body against hers; one more blue, one more red.

As the next fuse whizzed up the sky, Wilhemina breathed out, “I love you.”

Paw paw paw, mocked the lights. The noise swallowed her whisper.

“Y/N!” cried Anne, appearing out of nowhere with her eyes shining and her steps bouncing, “Y/N! New Year’s kiss!”

Wilhemina took a step away as Anne cupped your face and pressed a kiss on your lips which you, with a giggle, returned.

Red. Just red, this time.

Wilhemina watched the fireworks as they whizzed and exploded, her eyes glazed and her heart ice. She decided her heart was ice and she couldn’t feel anything anymore. Just a prickle - but as you broke the kiss, and Anne, with beauty, laughed, and captured your lips with hers again, the prickle became a blow that broke the ice.

A flower of gold bloomed in the sky and immediately died. Wilhemina looked at the golden dust as it floated downwards.

Something settled in her chest, something new that must have been lurking beneath the ice. It ached. Her fingers started to shake.

It was the finale, she hoped, looking at the fireworks, it couldn’t get worse. There were pink and green and yellow and gold. There were bruises in the sky, and smoke for the lights to choke on.

Like an automaton, Wilhemina turned and walked away from the balcony. She let her brain take over since her heart was dying and making her fingers shake.

In the living-room were people with their faces pressed against the windows, people kissing in corners and on the couch, one woman crying. No one noticed her as she walked past. No one saw her, except a little boy who curiously glanced her way, and immediately lowered his eyes with an awkward, nervous expression, to resume playing with his toy.

Wilhemina had almost reached the front door when her right ankle hit the corner of a coffee table. Pain shot up her leg, making her hiss. She made to bend down and press her palm against where it hurt, realized her eyes were filled with tears, vision swimming, objects and colors blending. Her grip on her cane was shaky and weak. She would sit down just for a second, she thought – Hell no, she scolded. She would push on, put on her coat, reach the door, open the door, and Lord in Heaven if she so much as showed the slightest limp she would, growled the hatred in her chest, the hatred biting everywhere, she would walk for miles in the dark till the pain in her back felt like agony, like molten metal pressed to her skin from within. Shoulders up, chin up, back straight. She forced herself to focus on the pain throbbing in her ankle. Her palm pressed against her chest.

Just as she was about to move again, a hand fell on her shoulder.  

“Where are you going, Mina?” you sang in her ear. Your breath tickled her skin and made her shiver. “You missed the last part of the show.”

Your hand gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She could feel your touch, burning her through her clothes, spreading warmth from her shoulder to her toes. It set everything inside of her on fire, brought everything back to life and made her feel – she didn’t want to ache.

And yet – how addicting a feeling. She had never felt so alive, body and soul so violently vibrating with life and want.

“Is everything alright?”

You had walked around her to plant yourself between her and the door, scanning her face with a frown of worry deepening between your eyebrows.

From the living-room behind her rose voices. They broke into a song. Applause, laughter. Your eyes stayed on her.

“Do you want to leave?” you asked. Nervously you shifted your weight on your feet. There was guilt flickering in your eyes. “I can give you a lift, if you want.”

“I drove here,” Wilhemina heard herself say.

Your eyes flicked to her lips, before meeting her gaze again.

“I know,” you said with an awkward chuckle. “But if you’re too tired to drive, you know, or just would rather I drove you, I could – what I mean to say is, I really don’t mind. Or you could stay here,” you added quickly, eyes shining at the thought – it was just the light, Wilhemina told herself. Just the light. “There’s a spare room with clean sheets. If you’re too tired to drive.”

From far away, a firecracker exploded. Someone in the living room screamed excitedly.

“Did you like the show?” you asked.

“I don’t care about fireworks,” Wilhemina answered. She had meant to speak coldly, but the ice in her had melted under your touch and she was made of heat.

“You don’t? Is that why you didn’t stay to watch the end?”

More firecrackers. The sound reminded her of her defeat. More bruises in the sky, more green.

“I didn’t want to bother you and your… girl,” she heard herself say. Her throat closed up behind the words, as if in protest, refusing to let any more words out ever again if it was going to hurt like that.

“Oh,” you laughed, waving a hand to dispel the thought, “she’s not my girl. We’re both single and you know, a New Year’s kiss is always nice.” Your eyes smiled – but it was a sad smile. “And you know how it is. You rarely get to kiss the person you really want to kiss.”

You laughed, nervously, ran one hand through your hair. Your other hand was still on her shoulder, holding her as if you were afraid she would disappear. Your eyes fell to the floor as a blush bloomed in your cheeks – and then, you looked up again, and watched her with a new, curious expression Wilhemina had never seen before.

“Did you get your New Year’s kiss?” you asked.

Bold. There was boldness in your voice that scared her.

Wilhemina pressed the head of her cane to her stomach protectively, and tilted her chin up to look taller and stronger. She veiled her eyes, shielded her heart, built up her walls – to no avail.

Your face broke into a soft, sweet smile that was so loving, so incredibly fond, it reached the last dark corner in her.

“Oh, sweetness,” you breathed.

Sweetness! Before she could register what was happening, you had leaned in and pressed your lips against hers. And the world shattered.

She didn’t feel the kiss with her lips, but with her whole body, every inch of her tingling and melting and igniting all at the same time. The sweetness and the softness coursed through her and made her forget she had ever been cold, ever been hurt and hated. You rubbed your lips against hers, chaste and warm and dry. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think. All she could do was feel.

When you pulled away, there was something cheeky and victorious shining in your eyes. A laugh ran under your nose as you saw the completely stunned expression on Wilhemina’s face.

“Breathe,” you smiled, stroking your thumb over her lower lip.

Wilhemina closed her mouth and inhaled shakily through her nose. She couldn’t understand what had just happened. She tried to process it, but it didn’t make sense. She had turned away, walked away, and you had run after her, touched her shoulder, called her sweetness – you had called her sweetness! – like a balm to her heart, and then the tingles and the fire and the melting…  

“Breathe,” you repeated fondly.

“Did you just…?” Wilhemina whispered.

Your smile grew, sewn with warmth and affection. “Yes,” you whispered back, cupping her face in your hands and holding her gaze as she searched your eyes to try and make sense of it all.

Joy sparkled in the black of Wilhemina’s eyes when her mind finally caught on.

“Could you…” Her voice trailed off.

“Yes?” you breathed expectantly.

“…do it again,” Wilhemina breathed back.

You didn’t waste a second. Your mouth met hers again, bolder this time, desperate to taste and to love. A soft moan pushed up Wilhemina’s throat and wrapped around your tongue. She dropped her cane to clutch your collar, lost her balance. You wrapped one arm around her waist and pressed her against you for support.

“Someone’s quite eager,” you giggled against her lips.

She only whined and kissed you again.

And just as you were quite sure you would lose your head, just like you had lost your heart, her body tensed and her hands pressed on your shoulders to push you away.

You refused to let go of her waist, afraid she would fall without support and way too addicted to the feel of her already. Part of you had to be touching her, now and always and forever.

You met her eyes.

For a few moments Wilhemina only stared at you. And then to your utter dismay, her gaze hardened and her face closed up.

You searched her eyes worriedly, but it was like trying to see the ripples of the waves on the ocean’s surface at night under an overcast sky.

“Did it make you feel better about yourself?” Wilhemina spat – voice so cold, so very cold when she had been so warm pressed against you just a second ago.

“Excuse me?”

“Kissing the girl no one wants to kiss. How so very kind and heroic of you.”

She swallowed, blinked; a glimpse at the moon through a hole in the clouds.

“I do not want nor need your pity,” she snapped.

Your thumb started stroking her hip, to ground her, to call her back to you.

“I did not kiss you out of pity,” you said softly, with a reassuring smile. Wilhemina only glared. “I’m not playing with you, I promise. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months.”

Wilhemina let out a disbelieving laugh. “Then why haven’t you?”

You leaned closer to her, and smiled again when you heard her breath hitch.

“Because you would have run away,” you whispered. One of your hands came up to cup her jaw and greet the warmth and softness of her again.

And just like that, the wind blew and dispersed all the clouds; and the full moon poured out its light on the ocean. And then you saw.

What you saw wasn’t the peaceful floating of stars on lazy waves. There was no white foam grazing sand with a gentle, sleepy sigh. What unfolded instead was a scene of terror. Half-drowned sailors clutching pieces of wood, corpses sinking, screams under the indifferent eye of the moon. And you on the shore, shivering, watching mesmerized and terrified the bodies thrown this way and that, the arms flailing and reaching out towards the sky.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat and gave Wilhemina a smile, so sweet, so tender – just for her? She felt herself tremble.

“You would have freaked out and pushed me away, wouldn’t you? A little like you’re doing right now.” Another smile, so full of adoration it pulverized every single one of her remaining defenses. “Except now,” you went on, voice getting lower to share a secret, “now you know what you want. Don’t you, sweetness?”

Yes, whispered Wilhemina’s heart. Instinctively she pushed the thought away, questioned it. Yes, her heart insisted.

“I love you,” was what she said.

The smile that you gave her lit up the night.

Had the world always been so bright? Had every single thing always been so beautiful? Wilhemina’s heart was bursting with so many emotions and above it all – love. Love was singing inside her. She was shining.

Tag list: @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers   @coconutlipss  @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills  @vintagepaulson @billiedeansbottom @lilypadscoven @winslctrg @simpforpaulson @venablesgirl @mckennamayfairgoode

[galaxywhump]

Birdcage

[Masterlist]

Continued from Proper Introductions.

cw: hero/villain whump, pet whump, defiant winged whumpee, captivity, dehumanization, caged, restraints, threats, forced name change, humiliation, manhandling, mention of strangulation, hand gagging.

~~~

“A bird joke. Isn’t that too original?”

“Couldn’t help myself”, Bradley laughed, draping a large towel around Oscar’s shoulders in an attempt to dry his wings at least a little bit. “Black birds are so serious, but canaries? They’re fun! They’re adorable! They’re… pets.”

Oscar’s stomach sank at that, and he swallowed. Deep down he’d known that was basically what Bradley had made him into when he decided to keep him - a phrase that made him nauseous the first time he heard it - but hearing it said out loud still felt like a punch, a series of punches, each more painful than the last.

“I’m not your pet, and my name is-” His words turned into a sharp mmph! when Bradley covered his mouth with his hand.

“Ah-ah, I know it, but I don’t want to hear it. You’re Canary now. Get used to it.” There was genuine sadistic glee in Bradley’s voice, and yet Oscar felt as if it was the glee of a first-timer, reveling in this unique opportunity to humiliate and threaten.

He had just been given a new toy, after all.

Bradley retracted his hand and pulled off the towel, already soaked through and useless.

“I wish I had invited someone with heat powers”, he said, tossing the towel aside and critically eyeing Oscar’s sopping, shivering form. “Or caught myself whoever it was that evaporated that swimming pool last week. Do you know them?”

“No, and-”

“Oh, well. Point is- I can’t bring you into the house like this”, Bradley continued, once again disappearing behind Oscar, who tensed up, waiting for another nightmare to follow the whip of freezing water, “and it’s cold out, so you’ll have to wait here a little longer, until you’re dry. Or at least drier.”

Oscar wished he had taken the chance to sit down when he had it. His body was killing him in the strained position he was in, and he doubted Bradley was going to free his wrists from the chains. Something was set on the tiled floor and he managed to turn his head to the side to see what it was as Bradley plugged it in and turned it on. A space heater.

He sighed. At least he wouldn’t be freezing anymore.

“Alright. Here’s your first order: just stay here until you stop looking like a drowned rat.”

He glared, but Bradley had already done a heel turn and was walking towards the door.

“I’m not following your orders, you ass”, Oscar growled after him despite knowing too well that he had no choice, at least in this case; he was only answered with a chuckle. “And my name is Oscar!”

The door slammed shut, leaving him alone once again, and with nothing distracting him anymore he became acutely aware of the aching pulsating in his arms and the tension in his legs and torso. At least his wings weren’t dripping with water anymore, but, folded up as they were, they would take longer to dry than if he was able to stretch them out.

And they cramped. And itched. And it was driving him insane.

Maybe it was better to focus on that, though, rather than his apparent new name and status as Bradley’s pet, pet Canary.

Oscar wasn’t one to cry, but this time he had to blink away burning tears.

-=-

He didn’t know how much time had passed since Bradley had left him there. All he had to go by was the fact that he was getting drier, which was more than welcome. His hair and clothes were almost completely dry, while his wings were still unpleasantly damp, but not dripping wet. His arms were getting numb after the throbbing pain forced a few tears out of his eyes, but at least they dried quickly, too, and when Bradley entered again, there was nothing hinting at Oscar’s moment of weakness, other than his humiliating situation.

“Much better”, Bradley commented, reaching up towards Oscar’s hands to remove the chain, leaving the handcuffs on. Oscar had to stop himself from audibly sighing with relief when he was finally able to lower his arms - he didn’t want to let Bradley know how much pain he was in. Good first impressions and all that.

“My wings would’ve dried quicker if you’d cut that tape”, Oscar said while Bradley crouched down to unlock the manacles around his ankles. Their grip didn’t lessen even when he let go, though; the chains were holding his legs still, preventing him from kicking Bradley - which he mourned - while he stood up straight again.

“I’m not in a hurry. And I’d rather not get smacked.” Bradley released his invisible grip on the manacles, grabbed Oscar’s handcuffs, and pulled him forward, forcing him to walk. “Follow me, and don’t do anything stupid.”

He clicked his fingers and a length of chain flew up from the workbench and towards the metal bracelet on his wrist; he swiftly grabbed it and wound it around his fist, an emergency weapon and restraint more than anything. Oscar glared at it. With Bradley’s powers, which he used to envy and admire, trying anything stupid was out of the question- for now, he reminded himself.

He was finally led inside the house proper, leaving the garage behind him. (He hoped it was for good, at first. Then he realized that wherever Bradley was taking him might be, and probably would be, ten times worse.) He stayed quiet, taking in the interior, just as brochure-esque as the exterior. He caught a glimpse of the kitchen with black marble counters, and the living room with an obscenely large TV and black leather couches.

It was almost nauseating, really.

Bradley led him past it, through a corridor, turned right, and soon enough they reached a closed door - with a lock, of course, an ostentatious decorative one. Oscar wondered if it was a recent addition. Bradley grinned at him and pushed the door open, revealing the room on the other side.

The trophy room.

Its walls were covered in cut-outs from newspaper articles, drawings and letters, probably fan mail; there were glass cases with medals inside, trophies, and even the key to the city. That wasn’t what made Oscar’s heart sink, though, because straight ahead, by the far wall of the room, there was a spot prepared for Bradley’s most recent, unusual trophy.

“What the hell?” he spat out, his eyes going wide.

What the hell did you expect, more like.

“I had it custom built for you!” Bradley said, excited, and pulled Oscar forward again, which required more force this time - he was simply frozen in place.

He was staring at a cage, built into the wall. It was a half-circle with a metal bottom slightly elevated above the floor, and bars - gilded, of course they were gilded - that curved elegantly at around two thirds of their height to connect in one spot of the ceiling. A gilded birdcage. His new home.

“It still needs some tweaks, but it was a miracle that I could find people who could do the job at such short notice. Nothing like a little renovation, right?”

Oscar didn’t respond, still unable and unwilling to comprehend what he was looking at, stumbling behind Bradley as he led him closer and opened the door; he let go of him, then, but his power immediately took over and Oscar was pulled into the cage, tripping as his handcuffs yanked him downwards. He landed hard on his knees and hissed in pain while Bradley finally got to removing the tape from his wings. Once they were freed, he was wise enough to step aside before Oscar spread his wings out to relieve the cramps and, with a little luck, smack the bastard.

“Woah!” Bradley laughed, and Oscar cursed under his breath when the handcuffs once again dragged him forward until he was forced to bow. “Careful there, Canary. The tape can always go back on.”

He gritted his teeth, but brought his wings close again. He heard Bradley walk out of the cage and close the door behind him, then lock it, and his handcuffs finally disconnected from the bottom of the cage.

“Come here.”

Kneeling with his back turned to Bradley, he closed his eyes, trying not to shudder. He was in a cage. He was being given orders.

It hurt more than he cared to admit.

He stood up, which was a feat on its own with how sore his body was, and turned around to face Bradley, immediately hit with the sheer weirdness of seeing him - seeing the room, seeing everything - through the bars. A newfound unease settled in his heart, his stomach, and his lungs, unease that he didn’t want to entertain.

He decided to pretend the bars just weren’t there. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to pretend.

“Come on. I’ll get these off of you.”

“Can’t you do that with your telekinetic hocus-pocus?” Oscar snarked, but still approached. Getting the handcuffs taken off was a tempting prospect, even if it was a reminder that they weren’t needed anymore, that he was powerless, that the cage had become a new restraint.

“Nope. I still need a key. I can always do this, though.”

This time Oscar knew what to expect, and the sharp pull on the handcuffs pinning him to the bars of the cage barely made him stumble.

A metal cage. A damn playground for Bradley’s powers. Oscar felt even more overwhelmed upon realizing that. The handcuffs were, however, the last metal element he had, and once they were off he held on to the relief that Bradley couldn’t control him directly anymore.

He was still in a cage in his trophy room, but that fact he preferred not to think about too hard - not while Bradley was there.

“Looks like you’re all set!” Bradley took a step back, as if reading Oscar’s mind, knowing how tempted he was to reach out and wrap his hands around his throat. “Okay, almost. But you have a name and a home now, and that’s what matters.”

“So what now?”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud, and it was only by miracle that the pathetic question didn’t sound as uncertain as it did in his head. Bradley smiled.

“Now you just make yourself comfortable, get acquainted with your new room, and then… I’m sure my friends would love to meet you.”

Oscar’s throat went dry, but he didn’t break eye contact. He cursed himself for his stupidity - of course there were going to be other people, hell, he’d already gotten acquainted with security guards, and Bradley didn’t seem the type to do his own chores. And there would be his friends, too, other heroes, most likely. More people seeing him like this, defeated, caged, humiliated.

“And I’d rather not meet them”, he managed to say.

“Well, too bad. There’s no easy way to say this, Canary, but I’m sure you understand… You’re mine now.”

Why did it sting? Why did it feel like a punch to the gut? He knew this. He knew all this, he knew he was a criminal, he knew what Bradley deciding to keep him meant - but denial was a powerful defense, and he kept it up as he looked into Bradley’s eyes, sparkling with excitement.

“You could be in jail right now, but instead you’re here, in this beautiful cage I commissioned just for you. It’s special treatment, and because of that, because you’re mine, you’ll be doing what you’re told.”

“I don’t think so.” It was getting harder and harder to keep his voice from shaking, to force himself to talk at all. He hadn’t found Bradley himself particularly terrifying before, but now his smile, the spark in his eyes, and the way his voice was getting quieter, darker, froze him to the core. 

Bradley laughed, a genuine laughter that Oscar could swear echoed throughout the room and kept ringing even after it stopped.

“We’ll see about that! But- I hate to leave you, but I still have a few things to sort out for you, and I’m sure you’d like to get accommodated at your own pace, so I’ll be back later. Enjoy your new home, Canary!”

He grinned seeing anger flash through Oscar’s eyes, but he got no response other than that – this time words got stuck in Oscar’s throat for good. Then he was left alone again, in his final destination, with no restraints, no further journey. It was just him in the room with all the evidence of Bradley’s victories and adoring crowds, of his powers and his devotion to helping people, to doing good; and yet he had a captive now, a new trophy more fit for a villain.

Oscar sat down slowly, cross-legged, and wrapped his wings around himself, grimacing at the itching and static resulting from the prolonged restraint. It helped combat the cold – and he wasn’t sure whether it was the room that was freezing, or just his terror - and offered the most comfort he had gotten in days. He reached for one of the dozen or so pillows strewn around the bottom and buried his face in it with a long, shaky exhale. He didn’t cry. Didn’t scream in frustration. He stayed perfectly still, with his eyes closed, for what felt like hours, until pretending that the cage didn’t exist became a tad easier.

He would have to open his eyes eventually, but for now he allowed himself to get lost in memories of places he wasn’t sure he would see again, and people who couldn’t save him.

taglist: @funky-little-glitter-bomb

~~~

[next]

[hockeyboysimagines]

Say it to me softly

Chapter 4

Warnings: heavily implied mentions of sex, some nsfw below the cut, swearing, mentions of cheating, angst, fluff.

This is such a long chapter, but I am giving you something at the end I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for😉 trust me there will be more. Enjoy babes💕

“GOD my feet are killing me!” Nash kicked a shoe off each of her feet sending them flying across the floor and dropped her purse on her dresser. Travis followed behind her and watched as she sat down heavily to remove her earrings.

Take your own advice

Nolan’s words swam around in his head clouding his vision.

You can do this Konecny.

“ Uh Nash. Can I talk to you?” She turned in her spinning chair, and he almost passed out as she gave him a sweet smile, still removing an earring.

“ What’s up?”

But her smile faded when she saw his expression. He rubbed his hands on his dress pants and then shoved them into his pockets.

“ Trav? What’s going on?”

He let out a shaky breath.

“ We’re best friends right? Like real best friends?” She frowned

“ Of course we are Trav. Why?” Her expression changed to confusion and she frowned.

“ Are we though? “ he asked bravely “ Just best friends? I mean people ask all the time and I’m starting to have to ask myself. I know we get annoyed at how many people don’t believe us but do you ever wonder why everyone thinks we are? For Christ sakes Nash, we spend more time together than I spend with my own teammates and I miss the fuck out of you when I’m on the road.”

Her expression was unreadable so he kept going not giving her the chance to stop him.

“ I live with this revolving door of questions in my head all the time. Are we just friends? Do I like her? Does she like me?” He added the last part softly.

Nash’s eyes were closed but he could see tears threatening to spill over her lower eyelids when she opened them.

“ Don’t do this Travis. Please.”

“ Nash I-“

“ Stop!” She jumped to her feet and grabbed both of his wrists “ just stop. I’m not-I’m not good enough for you okay. Your my best friend and your going to realize that and then I’ll lose you and I just can’t.”

“That’s Justin talking and you know it.”

Travis regretted what he said the minute it left his mouth.

“Can we just pretend you didn’t say all that!” The tears fell freely now, streaking down her cheeks and dripping on to her dress.

He shook his head, looking down at her hands squeezing his wrists. “ I can’t pretend Nash. Not anymore.” He said sadly. He reached forward to dry the tears on her cheeks.

“ Travis please-“ he stepped backwards and walked out of her room.

Out of her house.

Out of her life.

******

Several blocks away, freshly changed out of their formal attire Nolan and Sawyer sat out on her small balcony. It was cold, so she had pulled a small space heater outside, each of them with wine glass in front of them.

“ What are you thinking about?” Nolan asked from his spot next to her as he stared at the stars. Music playing softly from her bedroom and floated outside through the cracked door. She chuckled.

“ That awful haircut your mom made you get before the draft. You looked so funny.”

He turned very slowly mouth hanging open, eyes squinted.

“Rude.”

She laughed throwing her head back and examined him.

“ Okay okay it didn’t look that bad. I just like it this way better.”

Nolan felt his cheeks burn and was thankful for the dark to hide them, even though she knew he was blushing.

“ I like you this way too.” He said softly. She chuckled and tucked her hair behind her ear “ What, anxious and wine drunk?”

“Not what I meant asshole.”

“Now who’s the rude one?”

“I meant-I mean I like you here. In Philly.”

“ I like me here too. Winnipeg is just so sad. It’s home but it’s full of some pretty dark times too.”

“I know.” Nolan bit his lip and boldly reached for her hand.

She turned face half illuminated by the street lights. Nolan froze for a second suddenly aware at how close she was. He could feel the heat radiating off of her.

“Nolan.” She whispered as his hand came up to rest on her cheek. Her eyes slid closed and he leaned in.

RINGGGGGGG

They jumped apart and Nolan hurriedly reached for his phone, fumbling with it before reading the caller ID.

Fucking Travis.

“Hello?” He answered in a huff.

“Pat? I need to talk to you man where are you?”

He frowned “I’m at Sawyers. What’s going on?” She leaned over ear pressed against the other side of the phone.

“Can I come over?”

******

Travis sat with his head in his hands. He had come in and thrown himself on Sawyers couch 10 minutes before but hadn’t spoken a word. While Nolan was concerned about his friend his almost kiss with Sawyer was still on his mind.

“Travis?” She said gently sitting next to him and leaning down to look at him.” What happened?”

“I told her.”

She looked confused

“Told her what?”

He looked up at Nolan who nodded slowly “Holy shit.”

She looked between them eyebrows furrowed, before her eyes widened and she covered her mouth.

“You told Nash that you-“

“Yeah and it blew up in my face.”

“Fuck.” Nolan sighed and sat on his other side patting him on the back “I’m sorry Teeks I didn’t mean-“

“It’s my fault. I-I brought up Justin.”

Sawyer looked confused again, but Nolan shook his head and mouthed “later”

“Why don’t you stay here tonight? I’ll get you some blankets and a pillow and we can talk about all this tomorrow okay?” Travis nodded and Sawyer left to get him blankets and Nolan bumped his shoulder.

“It’s all gonna work out buddy. I promise.”

Travis fell into the sofa like a zombie asleep before Sawyer even turned out the lights.

Once they were alone she crossed her arms and asked the question he had been dreading.

“ Who’s Justin?”

Nolan sighed and sat down on her bed.

“Nash had this boyfriend, Travis never liked the guy. He destroyed her life. He started by changing the way she dressed, and then isolated her from her friends. She would never give up Trav but she lost a lot of friends because he made her feel so guilty about having them. Then he started keeping her home. She was like a prisoner Sawyer. And then she got sick or something and went to the doctor....they ran some tests and he had been cheating on her the whole time, and gave her something. She lost her shit. It was terrible.”

Sawyer sat down next to him.

“That’s awful.”

“Travis almost killed him. It took me Carter and Kevin to hold him back when we helped Nash pack her things.”

He was quiet for a few minutes before he added quietly “ I would do the same for you, you know if someone did that to you.”

She smiled, a big genuine smile and reached across the wrap her arms around his shoulders and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t worry Nols. That won’t ever happen.

******

The next 3 weeks were miserable.

Nash spent an increasing amount of time cutting herself off from society and had stopped coming to games. Sawyer and Libby had finally had enough and picked the lock to her apartment door and came barging in, to find her curled in a hoodie that she had been wearing for 3 days. Sawyer glared at her and put her hands on her hips.

“ What is this? Some kind of pity party?”

“ It is. And your not invited so get out.”

“ I will not. “ Sawyer kicked a pile of clothing off the coffee table and sat down on it, yanking the remote from her hand and throwing it across the room. Libby looked at Nash sadly, remembering herself in this position not that long ago, crying in bed over Joel.

“ Listen to me. Travis is dying without you, and judging by the smell in this apartment right now I’m assuming you are too. “ Nash felt tears coming to her eyes at the mention of his name, but blinked them away. “ Do you really think that he would have poured out his heart that way if he didn’t mean it or are you that dense?”

“He’ll change his mind. They always do.”

“Oh Nash.” Sawyer reached forward and grabbed her hand clutching it as the tears Nash tried to keep at bay rolled down her cheeks.

“Travis is NOT Justin. Not even close. He has been sleeping in my apartment for a week now because he says his reminds him too much of you. His game is suffering and his mother is worried about him. Nash you have to fix this with him.”

“ You don’t understand-“

“I do understand.” Sawyer said eyes softening “But trust me when I tell you that Travis loves you, maybe more than anything. Please just talk to him. Please.” Sawyer herself looked close to tears as she spoke, and turned to Libby for help.

“Ive been there Nash and I know it’s hard, but Travis needs you. “ Libby sat next to Sawyer on the coffee table and grasped her other hand “And your going to feel so much better when you talk to him and work this out.”

“And if it doesn’t work out?”

Sawyer and Libby looked at eachother before turning back to her each squeezing a hand “Then we will be here for that too. With wine and tissues for as long as you need us.”

Nash chuckled and they pulled her into a hug. She couldn’t ask for better friends, blessed that the Philadelphia Flyers had brought both of them to her life.

******

“So it went well?”

Nolan and Sawyer were each 4 beers deep later that evening. Travis was staying with Kevin while Ryanne and Claude planned to throw a last minute get together in an attempt to get Nash and Travis in the same room together the next evening.

“I think so. She loves Travis obviously, she’s just afraid to get hurt. And understandably so.”

Nolan nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

“ I think it’s all gonna be okay.” She rubbed her arms and stood, walking a few steps to the kitchen to throw away the empty bottles. Nolan watched her as she moved, long hair catching the light. She had on this tight little T-shirt and a pair of second skin leggings and he could feel himself getting hot under his clothing.

“ You know.” She said turning to him as she leaned against the counter “ Libby told me that she fell in love with her best friend. What’s that story?”

Nolan smiled “ Libby and Joel are sorta like us. They’ve been friends forever and then one day things changed. Beezer said it took a lot of time and Libby spazzed over it but he never gave up on her.”

“Sounds like Beezer...and Libby.”

“Hey can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

She was still leaned on the counter, arms braced on either side of her.

“ You said to me a few weeks ago that what happened to Nash could never happen to you. Why is that?”

If someone had lit a match between them it would have sparked, as the tension grew thick in Sawyers tiny kitchen. She stared at him, unwavering before she answered.

“Because the only person I’d ever let in my life wouldn’t do that to me.”

Nolan swallowed “ Who’s that?”

“ I think you know the answer to that question Nolan.”

******

The get together was just the team.

Rain was pouring out of the sky in buckets as the wind howled through the buildings in south Philly. But Ryanne and Claude’s home was warm and cozy and full of laughter as wine and liquor flowed through it. Nash had been hiding in the kitchen for the last 20 minutes but with some coaxing she had loosened up and was smiling now, between Libby and Sawyer taking silly pictures with Ryanne and Gina. Travis entered the kitchen, eyes big and sad and Nash smiled in spite of herself just at the sight of him. As the girls excused themselves they each gave Nash a squeeze.

“I’m glad you came.” Travis said hands in his pockets. He looked good, his hair looked longer than it had 3 weeks ago. Nash smiled weakly and tucked her hair behind her ear. Over his shoulder she made brief eye contact with Sawyer and Libby who both gave her a thumbs up.

“Travis I-“

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out “ I shouldn’t have pushed the issue and I wouldn’t have said anything if I had known it was going to push you away.”

He took a step closer to her eyes looking sad before continuing “ I just. Jesus I fucking love you Nash. And it’s okay if you don’t love me that way, I understand. But I can’t just keep pretending that we’re friends and that I don’t feel differently about you. I had to say it out loud because it’s been eating away at me inside. It killed me to see what Justin did to you.” Nash flinched at the mention of his name and felt like crying, watching Travis pour his heart out in Claudes kitchen, eyes pleading with her to say something.

“Travis. It’s not that I don’t love you, you know I do. I’m just scared.”

“ And I get that. I would never do to you what he did Nash. Please tell me you know that.”

“ I know. I know your not Justin. I’m just still really hurting.”

“I understand if your not ready” He was looking sadly at his feet hands still in his pockets.

“ I didn’t say that.”

Travis smiled slow at first and then it grew wider. He opened his arms very slowly and Nash fell into them, gripping the back of his shirt.

“We can do as fast or as slow as you want. I’m not going anywhere. I promise you.”

And then Nash looked up and kissed him right on the mouth, in the middle of the Giroux’s kitchen as a sea of applause and catcalls erupted from the living room. Sawyer let her head fall on to Nolan’s shoulder. He breathed out a sigh of relief not only because things were whole and peaceful again, but because of that there would be no one to interrupt him when he finally made his move.

******

Travis fell into bed, still smiling while Nash curled up in bed in her own apartment across town. Libby and Joel had come home and spent the rest of the evening curled up, watching a movie and the Girouxs congratulated eachother on a job well done over a glass of white wine.

******

She wasn’t quite sure how it happened. One minute they were standing in her living room and before she knew it here they were wrapped up in bed together his lips pressed against hers, hands leaving goosebumps as they moved across her skin, pulling her shirt up over her head.

Nolan’s eyes burned into hers as he pulled her leggings down agonizingly slow, and tossed them to the side. He shed his own pants and slowly pulled his shirt over his head. Sawyer propped herself up, and really looked at him. His once lanky frame was now padded with rock hard muscle, and his jaw more defined than she had ever seen it before. He was no longer the shy boy from Winnipeg but someone different who stood in front of her. His hair, long and shaggy fell around his face and into his eyes. She watched the muscles in his arms flex as he moved hovering over her, nose brushing her neck as he planted soft kisses down to the base of her throat. His hands were hot on her cold skin, and she shivered underneath him in anticipation. He picked his head up to look at her and kissed her very softly, but methodically fingers brushing her hair from her face, as his deep voice came in her ear.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

[shiversdownyerspine]

14. Isolation

A long chapter, just for y'all. :>

We gonna get a lil sad, a lil sweet, and a lil weird and dirty. >:D

18+

You fold your grocery list and tuck it safely away. The brothers doubt that they'd experience any significant injury, but you won't be discouraged. It's good to be prepared, just in case.

The Commission did provide its field agents with training and adjustments once they had been employed, but the improved healing wasn't as...thorough?..as yours. Some first aid wouldn't hurt.

You'd decided once the brothers leave for the mission you'd get the shopping done. Otto and Oscar had almost seemed to sulk, but Axel had agreed with you that this would be more convenient. There wasn't all that much to grab and everything would be ready and waiting when they returned. Scooting from between Axel and Oscar you remind them that if there are complications they are free to return to you to restrategize, and you certainly wouldn't mind a surprise visit.

Oscar playfully pulls you back against him. "Aw, you're going to miss us?"

Squirming with a laugh you tease him, "Maybe a little."

The youngest Swede releases you with a pout, feigning hurt as you apologetically rub his back. With a grin you wander over to the pantry to double check the cat food supply as Otto heads to their guestroom to retrieve their guns. Tugging the bag you estimate there's a good couple months left before it's gone, so no need to worry. Though you will be grabbing a couple cans of wet food for the kittens as a treat.

Otto returns with bag in tow as you head out to the garden to consider what to plant for fall...carrots, onions, maybe cauliflower? Kneeling you reach for your sugar pumpkins, happy to see that they're coming along nicely and should be ready around Halloween time. Lingering among the plants you take a moment to relax and think, breathing in the cool air. Autumn is practically on your doorstep, and the gray skies and yellowing leaves herald its arrival. Winter won't be long now, and you will once again be keeping an eye out for a space heater.

Long ago you'd found an old used one available in town, much to your delight. It had lasted a single day before the thing let out this awful high pitched noise and died right there on your floor. You count yourself lucky that it didn't burst into flames. For a moment you had considered keeping it to try to fix it, but it didn't come with a manual and you didn't want to risk it burning down your home, so you decided to do away with it. Hopefully you'd find another space heater, but the town is old and you've yet to get lucky.

In the meantime, you have Axel, Otto, and Oscar to help you with the cold. Your cheeks flush; the touches they've been giving you have been working, though some nights your condition successfully rears its stubborn head. You have a feeling you'll have to start knocking on their door when Winter creeps a little closer.

You've yet to see what they've done with the guestroom, if they've put up any knickknacks from home or from their travels. Certainly you're curious but you won't invade their privacy. Maybe they'd prefer your room? The sofa? You don't mind sharing your bed, you trust them.

The creek of the door interrupts your thoughts, and you lift your head to see Axel motion you inside. Dusting your hands and knees off, you head in after him. Coats and jackets donned with packs strapped to the younger's shoulders, it looks like they're ready to go.

With your own canvas bags in tow, you walk along the dirt path with the Swedes to the abandoned bus stop. The vine tangled little shack is being overtaken by nature and is tucked back against trees and bushes, making it easy to miss. The windows are long gone but the door still remains, stubbornly resisting the wear and tear of time.

Before you get the chance to say goodbye, Oscar is pulling you into a hug and kissing you on the cheek. You wrap your arms around him in return. "Be careful, don't get into too much trouble."

"Only a little, here and there. Danger is..ah...spice of life." Oscar squeezes you again as Otto's hand rubs your upper back before lifting to stroke your hair. The two release you as their older brother clears his throat. Faces blank and eyes hard, they stride through the overgrowth into the little shack to wait for Axel.

The blue-clad man gazes down at you with scrutinizing eyes as the sounds of the forest ebb and wane. He steps forward and reaches into one of his coat pockets to retrieve a familiar item wrapped up in a familiar old cloth that you'd forgotten about. Your fingers curl around the 'gift'.

Grasping what you know is your paring knife, Axel's voice is a bit gruff when he declares, "For protection."

Touched, you step forward to reach for his empty hand and give it a little squeeze, smiling when his thumb sweeps over your knuckles. "Thank you."

His opposite hand cups the back of your neck as he leans down to press his lips to the top of your head, nose buried in your hair. The moment is interrupted by Oscar barking out one of the windows, "Pussa henne igen!"

Axel gives an exasperated sigh but takes a second to breathe you in, squeezing your fingers one more time before releasing you to join his brothers.

The three are gone with a flash of light and you're left standing alone. After a melancholy moment or two of eyeing the empty bus stop, you're turning your attention to your knife and unwrapping it to check the blade. But as the cloth falls away, it's the wooden handle that draws your curiosity.

A little symbol has been carved into the wood, but you don't know what it is or what it means. But for some strange reason you still feel a lump in your throat and a prickling in your eyes the longer you look at it. You remind yourself to ask about it when they return.

Your shopping trip was uneventful and you had successfully gotten everything on the list. The trek back to your home was lovely, though when you walked by the bus stop you had lingered a moment. When you entered your home and put away the groceries, the emptiness of your house was disquieting.

Efforts are made to distract yourself hour after hour after hour with relative success. The day fades into night and you curl up in bed to read your well-loved book of fairytale collections until sleep finds you.

The morning is quiet, but the cats keep you company. After lunch you take the opportunity to plant some of the carrot seeds you purchased. Towards the evening as you're figuring out what to make for dinner, you realize you can still smell Axel in the kitchen. It's bittersweet and you wonder at how deeply you miss your cooking buddy. After dinner when you're doing a load of laundry, you discover one of Otto's shirts in the dryer. As you're folding the garment, his scent grasps your heart and squeezes. The entire time you're wandering around your home, something in particular is gnawing at you, something is missing...Oscar's sneak attacks.

You drop on the sofa with a huff, shaking your head at how quickly you miss the three men. It's absurd, you're used to being alone...but at the same time it makes sense. You've gotten used to their company. As have the cats. Rubbing your temples, you watch a little television before heading to bed.

The next day is much of the same; distract yourself, do chores, care for the animals, read books, go for walks, tend to the garden and the forest, miss the Swedes. It doesn't take long for you to start worrying about them as well, if they're okay. Your home doesn't feel right and eventually, you don't feel right.

You feel...twitchy. And restless. And tingly?

The fourth day is a little easier, as is the fifth, but you still feel off.

On the sixth day your cats are crowding the living room windows. Not all that strange considering you live by a forest, who knows how many birds and little critters visit your home. Besides, more important things have your attention this morning; specifically, you feel the urge to bake.

When the front door opens you're in the kitchen messing around with baking sheets so you don't hear it. Maybe you'd have felt the cool air drifting in if your oven wasn't on. But you recognize Oscar's spicy scent a second before he pulls you back into his chest and nuzzles into your nape. He lets you twist around in his hold to hug him as the sound of his brother's boots grace your ears.

You wiggle out of Oscar's arms to pull Otto and Axel down for hugs as well, Otto with your left arm and Axel with your right. It's hard to tell whose hand is rubbing your back and whose is cupping the back of your neck but you don't mind. Noticing they still have their coats and packs, you welcome them back before telling them to make themselves comfortable.

The two brothers head for their guestroom and Oscar follows them after giving you one last hug...and scratching the chins of the cats desperate for the men's attention.

Your house returns to normal, but a little later you find you still don't feel quite right. Your condition doesn't really feel like this, so maybe you're just still feeling the absence of the Swedes? Only thing you can do is give it time...and pop on a cozy sweater, just in case.

The strange antsy feeling gets a little stronger one evening as Otto and Oscar play a game outside in your garden with a vicious looking knife. Leaning back against the side door to your kitchen, you watch as they throw the knife into the dirt at their feet, trying to see who can land it the closest. Apparently the game was called Mumblety-peg.

"Is this what siblings do? Assert...dominance over the other?"

Axel snorts, "For fun."

"...I see." Your next comment is cut off when the knife punctures Otto's upper thigh, courtesy of Oscar.

Immediately you're tugging Otto inside to sit at the kitchen table, the world fuzzing and voices fading as Otto removes the knife with a firm tug. Blood is staining and you're staring, focused and utterly silent before turning to Oscar. "You should have been more careful."

Oscar shrugs, "Not serious. Don't be...tråkmåns?..stick. Stick in the mud."

You know they have better strength, better stamina, and better healing. But while you were missing the three men, you had also been worrying about them...

Axel doesn't have a chance to reprimand his brother again before you're bristling and baring your teeth, "Well do excuse me for caring about you three. The first aid kit is in my bathroom. Get it now. Please."

Oscar blinks, surprise mingling with guilt and maybe a sprinkling of arousal at your feistiness. He follows your order, slinking down the hallway as he remembers the awful sinking feeling in his belly the one time they discovered a bullet buried in Axel's back that they had to dig out.

The eldest Swede watches the exchange silently, approving of this stern, no-nonsense side of you. Not to mention the 'please' you added at the end was cute. Even though you had reacted a little strongly to Oscar's shenanigans, it shows you care for them a great deal. You had worried for their safety while they had been gone. As you check Otto's wound, the large man admires the fire in you that is quietly sizzling down. You're deep in thought, forcing yourself to acknowledge that the Swedes are technically your mission so if anything should happen to them you would be notified. Sometimes it's hard to hear your voice of reason when it's warring with the paranoia and lack of trust in your employers.

Still, Oscar should be a little more careful. The youngest Swede returns with the kit and you apologize for snapping, that you know they heal more than civilians.

Feeling sheepish at having reacted the way that you did, you try your best to explain, "It wouldn't even take me an hour to heal from a wound like this. With my ability...if a wound lingers it's proof that it's severe. That something is deeply wrong. So...I just..reacted when I saw the bleeding. Before I could think."

You admit to them that you panicked a little...and yes, missing them may have had something to do with your reaction as well. Oscar apologizes to you, and when you raise an eyebrow, he apologizes to Otto as well.

That night when Otto pulls you down on the sofa with him to sleep, eyeing your sweater with a little concern, you decide it couldn't hurt. You've been feeling strange for quite a while, so maybe a dose of body heat is just the thing you need. Making sure the man was alright with the way you were positioned on top of him, minding his injury, you settle in with a deep contented sigh.

But you did not sleep through the night. In fact, you woke several hours later to darkness and that strange restless sensation that had been plaguing you for days now.

Otto's hand has slipped down a bit, fingers caressing the bare skin of your back that your sweater has revealed in your sleep. Your lips part with soundless pleasure at the gentle calloused warmth of his fingers, eyes fluttering when a tingle crawls up your spine...and down your arms and legs? Your brow furrows in confusion as your toes and fingers prickle and heat builds under your stomach before reaching a gentle simmer and lingering until...!

Startled, you shakily pull yourself up and stumble on your feet. You feel like you're wading through molasses, your head wrapped in fog as instinct leads you towards the safety and privacy of your bedroom. Entering your room, you whimper as you feel another wet rush that soaks your panties. Desperate, you lurch into your bathroom and rip off your clothes to find your inner thighs damp. With a trembling hand, you gingerly swipe your fingers through the fluid, not quite daring enough yet to touch the direct source. Clear and slightly sticky...hm.

You blink and look closer at the apex of your thighs...you're a bit swollen and flushed...and with a careful ticklish caress, find yourself to be somewhat sensitive as well. You're baffled, this looks to be simple arousal...well, deep arousal all things considered. As if to mock you, another shallow surge slicks your thighs and trickles down your legs. No, the small puddle your body is supplying isn't normal, your fuzzy head and lethargic body isn't normal, but you're not normal so maybe it's just...new? Something that's been delayed because of your long-term isolation? You've always lacked a menstrual cycle, so what are the odds this has some strange connection with it and your ability?

Without delay you hop in the shower, fiddling with the knobs as you begin to put the puzzle pieces together. The hot water that cascades over your skin is soothing, fighting back the earlier panic. Feeling quizzical, you once again gently slide your fingers down, pushing lightly over your clit as your eyes flutter shut with a soft sigh, touch lingering.

And suddenly it's not your hand, it's a much bigger palm cupping you possessively before fingers thicker than your own tease between your swollen lips and oh so slowly, a fingertip pushes inside, sliding to the first knuckle- A rush of juices from your cunt jerks you back to reality as you gasp, practically hyperventilating as you tear your hand away from your aching body to grasp at the tiled shower walls. ...Oh.

Maybe you missed your men more than you realized.

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Pussa henne igen - Kiss her again!

tråkmåns - Stick in the mud.