#i will not be lectured on time management by some bastard who’s never taken an X-ray in their life

[humandisastersquad]

The company i work for is absolutely Haemorrhaging staff atm bc management refuse to listen to anyone and/or listen to the wrong people when it comes to changing and improving things, and ofc aren’t able to replace them at the same rate so instead of, yknow, finding and fixing the issues said staff have said caused them to leave (aka the regional manager), they’re just riding the asses of us poor sods who are left, berating us for not being able scan as many patients and condescendingly telling us how to do our jobs even tho basically none of them have a background in health, let alone have to deal with patients every day. Not to mention there’s national HCW shortages so we’re pretty much guaranteed a job somewhere else bc everywhere is just as desperate for more staff

[californiaboytoybilly]

HoHoHoe Week Day One: Childhood Bedroom

Pairing: Harringrove (Steve x Billy) CW: Domestic bickering, oral sex, biting. WC: 1.4K AO3: Link "Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" 

Steve groaned miserably, dropping his head into his palms for a moment as he sucked in a deep breath. 

Billy let out an absolute cackle of delight, looking around at Steve's childhood bedroom. Steve immediately regretted agreeing when his mother told him to bring Billy home for Christmas. 

The blond was still in awe, muttering something about the wallpaper with a smirk twitching up the corner of his mouth.

"Come on, we only have an hour until they get home…" Steve tried to distract him, dropping their bags on the floor next to the desk and then pushing the door closed. "Gotta make use of the time before we're stuck down the hall from my parents for five days, and we have to behave."

Billy hummed noncommittally from the middle of the room, "I think the wallpaper permanently killed my dick, actually. Rest in peace, big guy." 

Steve absolutely rolled his eyes at that, hard enough he could almost hear his grandmother lecture him about his face getting stuck.

At some point, he'd made his way behind Billy, who made a rumbling noise low in his throat and tilted his head to grant access as Steve's lips trailed over where his pulse beat steady and strong in his throat. "Bet I can revive it." He teased, huffing out a laugh. 

"Might need a blindfold," Billy still managed to bite back even as his breath came out a little shakier, Steve pushing him towards the bed. The brunette grinned, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin in reply. 

"I don't think I will." 

Billy grunted as he was unceremoniously pushed onto the bed, curls flying around his head as the springs squeaked loudly in protest. Before he could bitch about being manhandled, Steve blanketed his body with his own and pressed their lips together. 

Still, his boyfriend nipped his lip sharply in rebuke, getting his little payback in any way he could. Steve mumbled the word 'asshole' against his lips in return, his muffled tone still drowning with affection. 

Despite his earlier protests about the continued liveliness of his dick, it took Billy little time to wiggle out of his jeans and kick them to the floor as Steve lavished him with slow, lazy kisses and fleeting touches. The blond man was never exceptionally patient, which didn't change in bed. It made teasing him infinitely more fun, though. 

"I'm going to keep picking apart your room until you give me something else to think about." Billy threatened, a little too worked up to really sound remotely intimidating. Steve didn't hurry his pace too much, bunching the red cotton shirt the man wore up around his ribs as he started to trail his mouth a little lower. 

But Billy wasn't one to make empty threats. 

"So… how many of Hawkins' future simpering housewives lost their virginity in this plaid hellscape? What a memory that must b- ouch!" 

Steve, having had enough of his commentary, had sunk his teeth into the skin covering the younger man's hip bone and was almost positive he heard Billy sulkily call him a bastard through a sharp intake of breath in response, but hey- it had the desired effect. A distinct lack of taunting filled the room now. 

He didn't give him too long to pout, though, thumbs hooking in the waistband of his underwear and tugging them down. Billy's neck was cast into sharp relief as he leaned his head back, throat bobbing once as Steve leaned down to brush a kiss over the spot he'd previously bitten. 

Almost an apology, even if he didn't feel so bad. 

Thick fingers slid into his hair, pushing him down further towards where Billy pressed hot, heavy and flushed against his navel in a way that made Steve nearly bite through the tip of his tongue, snickering. "God, you'd think you didn't initiate this for how long you've taken without actually doing anything." Billy snipped, a hint of a whine at the end of his sentence. Steve smiled again.

God, he loved this man, impatience and all. 

Finally, having finished drawing it out, Steve gave his boyfriend a little warning before leaning in, flattening his tongue and dragging it up the underside of solid velvet skin until he reached the tip and parted his lips in one smooth movement.

When he'd first gotten together with Billy, Steve had struggled to take even half of him. Billy was the first and only man he'd ever been with- and if he had his way, it'd stay that way. He'd been a mess every time back then, jaw aching from the foreign stretch, eyes watering, and drool coating his chin. 

It was only with a little hint of smugness that he now took him nearly in full in one go, breathing out through his nose and pushing past the spasm of his throat until he felt his shoulders relax. 

"Fuck-" Billy's voice cracked on the exclamation, fingers tightening in his hair almost painfully. Little shocks danced across Steve's scalp, dragging a muffled moan out of him as his hips rutted down against the mattress for friction. Billy made a pleased sound. 

They knew each other's weak spots well, but the familiarity never got boring like he'd always heard other guys complain about. Steve certainly didn't miss the days of his love life being one date, sex, rinse and repeat. 

Steve had once read about treating your lover's body like a well-practiced instrument. At the time, he remembered rolling his eyes as he read it to Robin off the glossy magazine page, only for her to admit she thought that sounded romantic. 

He'd cracked some joke about band kids that had caught him a freckled knee to the ribs at the time, but reflecting back on it years later, he understood the romance in it that he'd missed then. 

Billy's taste, his musky natural scent and a hint of cologne, the little rolls of his hips that he tried so hard to control but never could. Steve could pick up the difference in every sigh, every flex of his muscles, every twitch of his mouth. 

Hazel eyes turned upwards as he hollowed his cheeks, desperate to watch Billy slowly crumble apart at the seams. It was his favourite sight, watching the man who'd perfected wall building before he was in middle school let go, allowing Steve to pull him apart. 

Please make no mistake; he did allow it. Steve had tried to break through that wall on days when Billy couldn't bring himself to let it fall even though he wanted to, and that had been an impossible task. 

Not today, though. Billy's hair-dusted thighs were pliant on either side of his head, core relaxed and moans unrestrained. It was beautiful. 

He was beautiful. 

Steve could feel a heady heat crawling through his veins, skin sparking and abdomen tightening in a way that told him there would be no need for reciprocation after he finished the blond. He'd always loved giving more than receiving, no matter how good both felt. 

Snaking his hand between his body and the bed, he let the other slide down to possessively grip Billy's leg as he really started to put his all into getting them both off. As much as he liked working him up, they were on a bit of a time limit, and he knew better than to think Billy could be quiet if they pushed this too long. 

As highlighted by the sharp groan of his name that followed as Steve pulled off with a filthy sound, tongue licking up the trail of saliva and precome as he made his way a little lower. 

"Please-" Billy slurred, about to protest the loss of wet warmth when Steve curled his tongue around the other man's balls, rolling them lazily and drawing them into his mouth. Billy's back arched, thighs tensing and abdomen quivering. "Shit!" 

There it was. 

Steve would've grinned if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied, humming as he let go of Billy's leg to start stroking him, quick and messy, perfectly timed with the pace he was working himself to the edge. 

It didn't take long. 

Barely thirty more seconds passed before Billy's pleading and praises reached a crescendo, voice cracking through every syllable. Steve let Billy's balls fall from his mouth and moved fast, continuing the slick movements of his hand as he opened his mouth and looked up at Billy through his lashes. 

Billy came with a mangled sound, ocean blue eyes locked on Steve's flushed face as he was turned into a portrait of debauchery. Billy gasped, muttering a curse under his breath at the sight he made. As he reached down to swipe a little of his mess off of Steve's upper lip, he felt his tired dick throb painfully as Steve pulled the digit into his mouth and sucked it clean. 

Before the blond could even form a single sentence after having his brain scrambled, Steve's blissed-out expression shifted into a smug grin. 

"That's why those girls didn't give a shit about the room." He purred. But he must've looked too victorious for Billy's sake because then-

"Oh, you suck on their balls too?" This was going to be an incredibly long week.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Rage Fire Institution

Confessional. 2.

A month passed by slowly. Maki unable to interrogate that damn bastard of a babysitter and unable to rid himself of that damn feeling. That damn TC08 had piloted as if it weren’t a training model. The synapse rebound was minimal. The split second delays between thought and action nearly extinct. Never had he piloted a mech that felt that damn smooth and it was all that damn Professors fault.

Not once had that bastard showed up in that month. Day by day Maki’s irritation had grown. Himself blind over his own actions and cold glare that reinforced his status as school delinquent. His friends not helping as they carried on about the TC08 as if it were some godly creation and not a simple bloody mech. Trying to take his mood out in the physical combat classes hadn’t helped. And thanks to his ever churning mind, his sleep schedule went to hell.

The whole month was hell and it was all because of that bastard Professor. He just knew there was something up with the man. Why else would he condemn him to the hell he had if he wasn’t messing with him? The bastard plagued his mind, leaving him gritting his teeth. Even his nightly excursions had been cut, all out of anger over being piloting that mech.

Twice a month students were allowed a Sunday in the city. School uniforms had to be worn, as were personal trackers which clipped to one’s ear and could only be deactivated by the dorm father. Knowing his awful mood, his friends had taken him out for fun. His best friend, an annoying alpha his age named Kang Li, had sworn black and blue it’d be the perfect chance to get his mind off the things bothering him. Little did either of them expect to run into the very reason Li why suffered at the hands of his angry best friend.

Out of all the cafes close to the institute, Li had assured Maki this one was a hit with the ladies. The cute atmosphere seemed to draw them in, and given Li’s other attempts to change his mood had failed, Maki had gone with flow, intending to ditch his best friend and find a way to really let off some steam.

That was until his damn babysitter came steamrolling back into his life. The alpha had barely taken in the overly sweet atmosphere when his grey eyes landed on the Professor. If anger had a taste, Maki would be choking on the flavour. Sitting across from a shorter male, the pair of them instantly pissed him off. How dare they be there enjoying himself when he was running laps in his mind over how to give the man a piece of his mind. Beside him, Li leaned back, letting out a low whistle as his gaze landed on what had caught Maki’s attention

“Would you look at that. He knows how to leave the institute. Do you think he’s on a date? He has to be on a date”

Li had no social awareness. As Maki’s eyes traced the Professors from, he noted the way the man’s hands were clenched together beneath the table. He noted the way his babysitter sat a little too straight and the way the smile on his thin lips didn’t meet his eyes. If it was a date, the Professor clearly didn’t know what to do. Hissing, Maki elbowed his best friend

“Stop staring, he’ll notice”

“We’re not at school. He can’t punish you for being here on our off time”

“Idiot”

Li flashed him a hurt look, Maki wondering how they’d managed to become friends

“That’s rich coming from you. I was merely stating…”

“You’re merely stating is giving me a headache. You promised this would help my mood”

“And? It’s not my fault you’re not having fun. You made those children at the game centre go crying to the manager. I hadn’t even finished my game because you went and stuck your nose in. Now you’re all bent out of shape over him”

“I’m not bent out of shape. Why should I care what Professor over there gets up to? He’s the arsehole who cause this mess to begin with”

Still, Maki was unsettled. It’d been a whole month. A whole month without lectures and now Professor was sitting there without a clue over what he’d put the alpha through. Ordering, the food was tasteless and no girls dared approach their table due to his fierce aura. Li tried his hardest to get through to him, showing him videos on his personal comm device as if it’d provide entertainment. He needed a cigarette. A dirty habit picked up by the planet from Earth II that was still somewhat popular since they’d moved away from the cancer causing carcinogens. Pushing his chair back suddenly caused Li to jump, Maki biting down teasing the alpha for being so skittish

“I need a cigarette”

On the other side of the cafe, and unknown to the alpha, the Professor had finished his own dealings. Maki making the mistake of automatically glancing in that direction and accidentally making eye contact with his babysitter. His first instinct was to sit. To sit back down and wait until the close was clear. That was until he reminded himself he’d done nothing wrong. He was allowed in the same cafe, heck, the same suburb, and no reason to change his life decisions because of one man.

Ignoring the Professor, Maki stalked out ahead. Though he shouldn’t have been smoking in public, no one was going to say anything. As long as he stashed the thin cigarette pen before reentering the school, there’d be no questions asked. Casually, he leaned back against the smooth black exterior of the cafe, half turned from the entrance into a poor attempt to hide his presence.

Not that it worked in any form.

A few moments later, the professor left the cafe with his date. Am autonomous vehicle smoothly pulling up to the curb as if timed to the last millisecond. Ever the bootlicker, his babysitter stood beside the open door to the ride, allowing his companion to enter before him. Having never seen his arch nemesis acting this way, Maki couldn’t help his curiosity. From his reckoning the man who’d entered the car was also an alpha. The Professor had found himself an alpha. Tch. Clicking his tongue at the scene, Maki quickly looked away, keeping the Professor in the corner of his eye as the vehicle door closed and the man stepped back.

Now should have been his time. The bastard in front of him had been plaguing his thoughts. As irrational as it was, he had to know what had happened to the TC08. He’d never get a moment rest without it. Twisting the end of his cigarette with his lips, Maki stashed it in his pocket, before turning his body towards his babysitter. In return, the man across from him simply looked him up and down before turning away.

The man was adamant to make a fool of him. Whether it be at the institution or in the streets, Maki was sick of it. No one simply went around doing good deeds

“Oi. Professor…”

The Professor’s body tensed for half a moment, clearly hearing him, yet choosing to keep walking. Angrily, the alpha jogged after him, catching his babysitter by the sleeve with ease thanks to his long legs

“I’m talking to you”

Tugging his sleeve free, his babysitter huffed through his nose. It was hardly Maki’s fault if the man was in a bad mood and he had no right taking it out on him. Looking as if he wanted to bolt for a second, the Professor seemed to mentally give up, finally turning to face him as he asked

“So I’ve gathered. Did you miss me that much?”

The nerve. For a moment the alpha nearly gaped. As if he’d miss being scolded and ridiculed constantly by a man only 6 years his senior. Not that was the point. No. He had far more pressing matters on his mind as he blurted out

“What did you to that TC08?”

For a moment the Professor’s eyes went wide, the arsehole covering him mouth as let out a breathy squeak of a laugh. For some reason the air around them seemed to relax, and for some reason that only made Maki madder

“I’m asking you a question. I’ve never piloted anything as smooth at that. No other mech moves that way. What did you do?”

“You really think I did something? What am I, in the maintenance department now?”

Ah.

Right. The maintenance department. Red coloured the young alpha’s cheeks. He’d been so busy being angry at the Professor that he… Ah… Reaching up, Maki found his hair ruffled by the Professor before he could figure out what happened. The man’s tone still carried a trace of laugher

“Don’t tell me you chased me down just to ask me a question about the TC08. No wonder I’ve been reading reports about your bad mood”

Reports on his mood? Who was reporting on his mood? Why?

“What the hell? Do you teacher types have nothing else to do? You’ve been gone for a month!”

“You don’t check the school forum often do you? You’ve been the trending hot topic”

“What the fuck…?”

There were too many questions to unpack. Why was he on the school forum? Why was the Professor on the school forum? Why was the Professor on the school forum checking up on him? Dropping his hand, his babysitter sighed

“You really have no self awareness, do you? Use your optical headset tonight and take a look for yourself. If that’s all…”

Maki’s brain couldn’t catch up. He was too busy being angry with himself for blaming the Professor and not the maintenance department. Covering his face with his left hand, the alpha lowered his head. He needed someway to save face, owing his babysitter didn’t sit right

“Wait… Just… Why did you tell me about the mech? Why me?”

The Professor shrugged

“Because you have your reasons. And call mine me acting on my own impulses”

“You actually know what impulses are?”

“I do. Look, Skylark’s a grade one arsehole, so if you think about it, you got one up on him by piloting the one mech that had halfway decent responses. Not that I should be encouraging you. You’d be eaten alive if you transferred to the front lines now. I’ve got somewhere I need to be. Go back to your friend and try to stop overthink it. I’ll see you at school tomorrow”

Without a way to claim back his pride, all Maki could do was watch the Professor turn and walk away, the arsehole casually waving it him over his shoulder as he went. In the last month he felt like he’d learned more about his permanent babysitter than he had since he’d gotten stuck with him, and seeing he’d learned a whole lot of nothing, he felt he shouldn’t feel as ruffled by it all as he did. Clicking his tongue, Maki turned on his heels, driving his hands into his pockets as he started back towards the cafe.

***

Li wouldn’t shut up. In his absence his fellow alpha had met some girl that he’d instantly fallen head over heels for. Ignorant to all the thoughts swirling through Maki’s mind, his best friend trailed him back to his dorm, throwing himself on the alpha’s bed as Maki threw himself into finding his headset.

“Bro, what are you even doing? Are you still listening to me?”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Maki slammed his desk drawer closed before pulling open the one under it as he replied sarcastically

“How can I do anything else, you’re in love. Big shocker there”

Li sounded offended as a pillow flew over Maki’s shoulder

“Her name is Li Yon, like, what are the odds? Li and Li? She was so lovely. Get it, like Love-Li”

“I get it. Fuck, have you seen my headset?”

“That thing I’ve been trying to get you to use since our first year? It’s in the bottom of your wardrobe, you threw it there when you couldn’t find your charger. What’s got you so amped up?”

As if he could possibly tell his best friend that his babysitter was the root of all his issues

“Nothing. Tell me more about this blind girl you’ve snagged”

Dreaminess took over Li’s voice

“She’s beautiful. She’s an alpha. She goes to that fancy prep down the road. Next free day we’re going to go shopping. She said she’ll help me colour my hair”

Li had it bad. For being a tremendous flirt, his best friend was far more familiar with rejection that acceptance. Abandoning his desk, Maki started on his wardrobe

“So she’s trying to change you already”

“As if. I told her I wanted to change up my style. You’d know all of this if you hadn’t gone chasing your babysitter. She knows him, you know. She said she recognised him. Apparently he’s been in the news or something. Anyway, she’s practically perfect… and I’m going to make a second account so she can get on our school forum too. It’ll be so much easier to talk about what’s happening if she knows what’s going on”

Maki nodded along. So driven to find his headset, he once again found his brain lagging. Pausing as he picked up a shirt he didn’t remember owning, he frowned as he looked to Li, who’d taken over his bed completely

“Hang on, what did you say?”

“I said I’m going to make an account…”

“No, not that bit. What do you mean the Professor’s famous?”

Li shrugged it off

“She said she recognised him. She wasn’t sure how she knew him, only that she did. I can see why. I mean, he does sort of stand out”

For an alpha who’d landed himself a blind woman, Maki was baffled

“What do you mean “He stands out”?”

“You must have noticed how the girls look at him… He’s got a slim figure and a nice face”

Blinking at Li, Li cocked his head in response, asking

“What? That’s what they all say”

“I suggest you go to the infirmary and have your head looked at. The Professor is as ordinary as they get”

With a heavy sigh, his best friend sat up

“That’s because you’re always in trouble. There’s a lot of people aiming for the Prof. For a starters, he keeps you under control. Then there’s that air of mystery around him. Is he really a research subject here? If so, what’s the secret project? You should know, you spend the most time with him”

Once again Maki questioned why he was friends with the man. Returning to his rummaging, the alpha shook his head

“All he ever does is complain and tell I’m better than this. He wouldn’t even know how to pilot a mech”

“Because we all know how well you do. He can’t be all bad, he did give you the heads up”

“And cursed me while he was at it. Don’t you have your own dorm to go back to?”

“And miss this? No, I’m here to support my best friend in his moment of need”

Translation. Li was there for the inevitable moment Maki lost his temper at his headset

“Then you could at least try to be helpful”

“Excuse you. I’m plenty helpful. Yon said she had the perfect girl in mind for you. I know you have no luck with the women. What was the last one called… Amelia? And that was months ago”

Li kept a better track of his dating life than he did. Maki didn’t like to think himself a player, nor did he like to think himself clueless, but he’d thought he’d made a forced friend, not agreed to dating the poor woman. Still, he sighed heavily

“It was Ashar. And I didn’t even know we were meant to be dating”

“She cooked you lunch”

“She heated up some instant noodles… then dumped them in my lap because you told her “she was alright, but needed bigger boobs””

Li clicked his fingers. Maki didn’t need to look back to know his friend would have taken on a “superior all knowing” look

“That’s right. Then isn’t it all the more important I look after your love life now? She’s promised this girl is cute and one of those quiet types. We’re too young not to take a chance”

“And you’re too loud. Fuck, I can’t find it. Give me yours”

“Nope. Not happening. I promised Yon…”

“Alright, already! Enough. Fuck. You go back to your dorm”

Shoving everything back into his wardrobe, Maki slammed the door closed before it could all fall out again. Sensing he was on the move, Li finally got off his bed

“Nope. I’m sticking with you. Where are we going?”

“Student services. If I can’t find my headset I need a new one”

Shit. This was all the Professor’s fault. If he hadn’t gone spouting on about the school forum, then Maki wouldn’t have had to bother with replacing the headset… He’d have to bill the bastard. Further adding to his questioning of why he was friends with Li, his best friend served to drive him further crazy

“Forget that, I’ve got a spare one. It’s outdated… third or fourth gen…”

Striding over, Maki hit Li upside the back of the head

“Why couldn’t you say that before? It doesn’t matter how old it is, as long as it does the job”

Li shot him a scathing glare as he rubbed his now aching head

“It’s not my fault. You didn’t give me a chance. You’re getting set up, whether you like it or not. You need to let out some steam”

“Yeah. Right. Can we go get that headset now?”

In a fluid motion, Li crossed his arms, asking teasingly as he did

“What’s in it for me?”

Despite Maki’s mood, Li might withdraw his offer should he continue showing his agitation, so the alpha picked his words carefully

“I won’t hit you again tonight”

“Make it a whole month and it’s a deal”

Despite Li making it sound as if he hit him at every chance he got, Maki nodded

“Fine. Deal. Now can we get a move on? The sooner I get this over, the better”

“Done, let’s go. We don’t have time to stand around waiting all day”

With his teeth ground together and a headache coming on, Maki wasn’t sure he wouldn’t completely lose it at the Professor the next time he saw him.

[song-of-the-rune]

Shock

Some good old Healer!Xyll, taken as prisoner in an under-manned Garlean camp. l took some inspiration from @\the-imperial-nuisance - hope you don't mind! This is pretty tangential to the prompt, but that's fine. I am not ready to post this but it's posting day so out into the world it goes help-

"I need to stay here with this patient," Xylluna says, flicking an ear back. "Send someone else."

"You are here to take orders, not make decisions. Come along."

Xylluna keeps their hands over the wounded woman's side, green ether flowing from their palms into the gash left by, presumably, an Eorzean blade. "If I am to follow the orders I was previously given, then I am staying here. You can tell your commander as much."

Something blunt jabs them between the shoulders, and they almost fall onto their patient, but they manage to fall to the floor instead. The aether's glow fizzles out. "No more warnings, or you'll both be-"

Without thinking, Xylluna stands up and uppercuts the officer in the jaw in one fluid motion, sending him reeling backwards. "She is my patient, and I can only assume --"

"Someone contain this beast," the officer commands once he steadies himself, and two of the mostly-recovered soldiers -- who, up until now, had been passively watching as if they weren't sure what to do -- pick up their swords and begin to approach them.

A third, still covered in bandages, chimes in. "Sir, shouldn't we let the Viera -- er, let them stay until another chirurgeon arrives?"

The officer's face, just barely starting to bruise, turns red with anger. Xylluna watches the two, hands raised unthreateningly, as one of the two recovering soldiers retrieves some rope. "The thing you don't understand about Eorzeans, boy, is that they're craftier than you realize. He might have looked like he was healing Cantia, but make no mistake…"

"Primum non nocere," Xylluna interrupts, scowling, as the guards bind their hands. Their accent is thick without the help of the Echo, but there is some satisfaction in speaking the words themself, even if the Garleans probably don't understand what's happening. "I may be a Conjurer, but I am a Scholar, too. And he's right -- " they shout back into the tent as they are escorted across the camp, "if you don't let me heal her, she's likely to go into shock." They realize the officer never stopped lecturing his subordinate, and walk the rest of the way in uneasy silence.

They finally stop at a larger, but still plain-looking tent. One of the guards peeks inside the door and, a few moments later, a woman -- by her dress, a medical officer -- emerges with a furrowed brow and greying hair. "Why did you bring me the prisoner? I told you to keep them busy in the ward while I sterilize my equipment." Xylluna raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm sure you'd like to know why I'm doing that kind of grunt work, or why I'm trusting you with our soldiers, but I'm already showing you more than I'd like."

"Well, sir," one of the guards says, hesitantly, "The Decurion -- "

"He ordered you to come here?"

"No, sir, he ordered us take the Eorzean to interrogation, but --"

"Who is running the ward right now?"

The guards stare nervously at one another for a long, tense moment, the medical officer looming over them.

Xylluna risks piping in. "Cantia is bleeding out. I was for bidden to stay and continue to help her. One of the other soldiers in the ward did try --"

The woman points to the closer of the two soldiers. "You, untie them. We can hear the rest of the story later. This is the last time the bastard tries to overrule me."

---

Trying to resuscitate Cantia is difficult with all the commotion, but Xylluna seems to be managing, at the very least, to keep what blood she has left from pouring out. The two officers are engaged in a shouting match over whose orders apply when, and Xylluna picks up that they haven't received any supplies or orders in a very long time. They want to tear into both officers -- who in the hells would leave a stranger in charge of the ward so they could clean, rather than the other why around? Who insists on leaving a bleeding soldier to die? None of it makes any sense -- but for now, there's nothing to do but focus. And they do focus -- until the poor soldier's breathing steadies.

"She's going to make it," Xylluna announces, and waits a moment for an answer, but the squabbling continues.

In a lower, softer voice, they ask, "Cantia, can you hear me?"

There is no response from her. Xylluna takes another long, hard look at the gash in her side now that it's closed. Whatever it was made with had been dirty. Had the Garleans lied about her being wounded in battle? She was not the only one to return, but the party had been small -- not that they had the men to comprise anything more than a small contingent. It would have been a small skirmish, then, for the rest to survive it, perhaps over something scarce nearby. So small there may not have even been other people involved. They could have been skirmishing with a mountain lion over a rabbit --

They hear their foot thump against the ground as they speak. "You were both just going to let her die, weren't you?"

Both officers freeze. Finally, something got their attention.

"You didn't want me to save her. You wanted me to either kill her deliberately, proving that I was an untrustworthy prisoner and you could get rid of me, or by accident, because I don't know 'proper' medicine. You don't have the resources to feed your camp. You haven't for a long while. So you've been letting them die so that they don't have to starve. It sounds merciful, almost, but that's not everything, either, is it?"

"Seize him," orders the Decurion.

No one moves.

Xylluna points at the medical officer. "You can't starve; you're too gods-damned important. So you've been hiding food in your supply closet and going away to 'clean' where no one can see you eating. And you," they point at the Decurion, "are in on the whole thing. This bickering is all just a show so that your soldiers don't notice while they're too busy trying to feed themselves."

"You heard him. Seize the prisoner," says the medical officer in a calm, steady voice.

One of the soldiers begins to approach Xylluna, placing himself between them and the officers. The others watch him warily.

The medical officer looks at one of the stationary soldiers. "You don't really believe we'd do that, do you?"

"Well, sir, it -- no, of course not, sir," he says, uncertainly, as he begins to approach Xylluna as well. He exchanges an uneasy gaze with the other soldiers as he walks past them. The rest begin to follow suit, even those still recovering from various injuries -- except for Cantia, lying unconscious, but finally stable, next to Xylluna.

Instead of seizing Xylluna, the soldiers form a wall in front of them. One of them draws her sword and points it at the two officers. "We're relieving you of command."

[nillegible]

the JGY amnesia Fic

[AN: Someday I will come up with decent titles for my fics... but not now XD I hope you like this fic, the premise is that the issue with XY and NMJ happens before JZX’s death, and so the argument and the stairs moves up in the timeline! And JGY hits his head and gets TV-show amnesia, and remembers no one, not even himself, but is otherwise his sharp, suspicious self...]

He wakes up sure that he is dying, nothing else could hurt so sharp, agonizing pain radiating out from the back of his head, stabbing sharply every time he is swung, and he forces his eyes open. The light burns, but he can make out an earth green and brown collar, and a strong jawline. He is being carried by this man.

He doesn’t know who this is, but he feels… safe. Even though every step this man takes makes his eyes water.

He blacks out.

*

His name is Jin Guangyao. It rolls smoothly off his tongue, but sits wrongly in his mind. “Temporary amnesia,” the doctor had informed him, when Jin Guangyao could not tell him the answers to any pf his questions; not his name, or the date, or where they were.

A fancy young master in white-and-gold robes, who introduces himself as Jin Zixuan, is the one who sits by his side and tells Jin Guangyao the basics of his life. There is such an obvious lack of detail that it leaves him intrigued. And Jin Zixuan looks ashamed when Jin Guangyao asked if he was Jin Zixuan’s uncle. “No, I’m your older brother,” he says. “We… we share a birthday, but you’re a day younger.”

Jin Guangyao watches him for a moment, and wonders at the source of his brother’s shame. “I’m a bastard, aren’t I?” he asks.

“My father legitimized you!” Jin Zixuan protests. “You’re my brother.”

Jin Guangyao smiles at him. This man is clearly naïve, but has no ill-intent. The man who had named Jin Guangyao Jin Guangyao, however? He is yet to ascertain that.

*

Jin Guangyao’s memory doesn’t return within the first week. With his head injury healed, though, he’s allowed to leave the infirmary which allows him to collect a lot more useful data.

There is a lot of work piled up in his room. Disorganized, as if someone had gone through it to take the important paperwork to work on while he is <infirm>. That he was assigned so much work that was non-essential makes him wonder if he was actually pretty low on the social ladder, here. He goes through all of them anyway, most of it is useful information, painting a picture of Jin sect’s activities, and the sorts of projects that they allow to drag on for weeks. Jin Guangyao has left meticulous notes in a separate notebook about how to put everything into a more sensible order. That such reworking was required

His accessories, or lack-there-of, are even more enlightening. There’s also a scholarly-sort of hat, and only a few cheap hair ribbons. Nothing at all like the intricate jade hairpins or crowns with intricate metalwork and precious stones that Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun wore daily.

Jin Guangyao’s place here is… obvious.

He wonders who the man who had picked him up after his injury, was. No one tells him, not even Jin Zixuan, he just pats Jin Guangyao’s hand and says, “Don’t worry, you’re safe now.” The implications of that are obvious, of course, that the stranger was the one who had hurt him. And yet it’s a subject no one speaks of, of how Jin Guangyao had fallen down the thousand steps of Koi Tower, and he hadn’t asked after the first two times. He stays wary, watching everyone. Someone had tried to kill him, and he doesn’t even remember which of his acquaintances might want him dead.

*

Lan Xichen arrives two days after his release from the infirmary, Lan-Zongzhu, according to everyone else. He’s beautiful, the most beautiful person that Jin Guangyao has ever seen. Since he remembers all of a week, this doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Jin Guangyao could probably search for decades and not find anyone more beautiful. It would not be fair.

They have tea together, after Lan Xichen – “Call me er-ge, you are my sworn brother, A-Yao,” – has checked him over worriedly, and checked his meridians, and pressed his fingertips gently to the back of Jin Guangyao’s head, to where his head injury had been, and ascertained that he truly is well.

“They did not tell me you were injured,” he says. “Da-ge had to, and this is the week of new students for the summer lectures, I could not leave. Jin Zixuan promised me you were well, though,” he says. Sincerity shines through him, and Jin Guangyao wonders what on earth he, an unwelcome child in his own family, could have done to make this man care for him.

So he asks.

Lan Xichen describes a heroic young man, who gave him shelter when he needed it most, who had smiled and laughed at him, and helped him with chores he could not do, and gave him the strength to fight a war. Lan Xichen tells him that this kind young man had gone into a war that did not affect him, only to help, that he had turned spy against a raging mad man, and finally taken off his head.

“So that is why my father took me in,” says Jin Guangyao. There’s a flicker of pain on Lan Xichen’s face as Jin Guangyao tells him what he’s surmised about how he’s treated here. “Did you know?” asks Jin Guangyao.

“I suspected,” Lan Xichen says softly. “But you were too proud to tell me. You insisted you were happy here. I visited when I could, but I never… I’m so sorry.”

Jin Guangyao reaches out to pat Lan Xichen’s hand, it feels so familiar, even if Jin Guangyao can’t remember doing it before. He must have, Lan Xichen’s sad face cannot be borne. “I’m sure I didn’t want to bother you, er-ge. You’re overworking yourself even now.” The signs are there, even behind his flawless composure. “You look so tired.”

“I had to come,” says Lan Xichen. “I was so scared that you…” He trails off, then turns his hand, holding onto him tightly. “If you don’t remember your place at Koi tower, do you want to return with me until your memory recovers? We’re still reconstructing, but Cloud Rececsses is still an excellent place to ”

“This Jin Guangyao is honoured, but what if it doesn’t?” asks Jin Guangyao practically. “I can’t just leave my home like that.” More quietly, he adds, “There must have been some reason I didn’t leave before.”

“You never said, exactly, but I believe it was because of your mother,” says Lan Xichen. “She wished that you would gain your father’s recognition, and a place at Koi Tower.”

“Do you know anything about her?” Jin Guangyao is not an idiot, he knows from the snide remarks, the way that people try not to touch him that he is of low birth, that his mother’s occupation was. That. He wonders if Lan Xichen will lie to him.

“She was an educated woman,” he says. “A renowned beauty. You’ve told me that you take after her, in many ways. She was skilled in the arts. She never taught you art but she was your master in calligraphy and music. She loved you very much and wanted you to have a good education because she knew… she knew that A-Yao is so incredibly smart and destined for greater things.” He squeezes Jin Guangyao’s hand. “Her life was not easy. She suffered, but she loved you. She would be proud of you, to know how much you achieved.”

It should matter, it does matter, Jin Guangyao’s heart squeezes, but it is from sympathy for what Lan Xichen is feeling. The dark honey-gold eyes are bright with tears. Clearly Jin Guangyao had loved her very much, before. But Jin Guangyao cannot find in him any love for a woman that Jin Guangyao cannot imagine. A woman with his face, a prostitute, but educated, talented. And ambitious to have Jin Guangshan’s son.

“My father did not take her in, I gather?”

“He did not. She died of illness shortly before I met you.”

“Thank you for telling me,” says Jin Guangyao.

*

Lan Xichen stays an entire afternoon, and readies himself to leave at dusk. Jin Guangyao accompanies him to the sky-pavilion on Koi Tower that the Jin disciples use to take off from.

There’s a last nagging question that Jin Guangyao hadn’t managed to slide into the conversation, as it meandered into cultivation theory and Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen had tried to piece out some kind of pattern in what kinds of cultivation knowledge he had retained, and what he had forgotten. It had been an interesting exercise.

“Er-ge, before you go,” says Jin Guangyao. He looks around cautiously, but no one is near enough to overhear. “You’re older than Jin Zixuan, aren’t you?” he asks, and Lan Xichen nods. “So our da-ge… you never said. Is he… did he die during the war?”

“No!” cries Lan Xichen. “A-Yao no, he’s not. He’s fine, he just could not find time to visit.”

Lie.

It’s the first time Lan Xichen has lied to him today, but Jin Guangyao is certain of it.

“No one talks about him, and I couldn’t find any letters from him. I did find a few of yours. No one even says his name. Who is he?”

“Nie Mingjue,” says Lan Xichen, sounding defeated. “Of course you would think to ask, but his name is Nie Mingjue.”

Everything falls into place. Jin Guangyao has seen some Nie disciple couriers on their way to private meetings with his father and the Jin council of elders. Hard faced and angry looking, they kept to themselves and departed the moment they could, without staying for a meal or entertainment.

“You think he pushed me down the stairs,” says Jin Guangyao.

“No,” says Lan Xichen. “We know he did. He kicked you down the stairs. He–”

“And you believe that?” asks Jin Guangyao.

“Of course I do,” says Lan Xichen. “Da-ge was the one who told me. I knew that things were difficult between the two of you, recently, but I had not imagined… It does not matter, we are looking through the records now, so that you can be free of your vows to him, and even if we can’t find something, he won’t visit Koi Tower again, Jin-zongzhu has forbidden it.”

“Oh,” says Jin Guangyao, mind whirring. “Okay then.”

“Is A-Yao afraid we’re covering something up?” asks Lan Xichen. Jin Guangyao is not sure what gave it away, he thought he’d kept his face smooth.

“Naturally I trust er-ge,” he says, smiling up at him. “I just remember him, vaguely. He picked me up. He saved me.”

It’s Jin Guangyao’s first memory, pained and fragmented though it is.

“He did take you up to the infirmary right after,” Lan Xichen agrees. He looks faintly puzzled, like he’s not sure why that matters to Jin Guangyao.

“I understand,” says Jin Guangyao. “Nie-zongzhu would of course regret his action after his moment of anger.”

“He does,” Lan Xichen assures him. “You should write to him, if you are willing to accept his apologies, but Da-ge is terribly sorry.”

“Thank you er-ge, I will,” Jin Guangyao promises. The relief on Lan Xichen’s face is too pure for this world.

He waves goodbye after Lan Xichen takes off, and steps back into the maze of Koi Tower, mulling over all the new knowledge that Lan Xichen had brought with him. He was right, he should write to Nie Mingjue.

But after some more research.

What could they have possibly quarrelled about so badly?

Jin Guangyao makes his way back to his rooms, keeping his face expressionless at the gilded opulence and overt unfriendliness of his home. He doesn’t understand his past self at all.

Why does he still live here, where he’s so clearly unwanted?

Why did he even care for the acknowledgement of Jin Guangshan, who from even just Jin Guangyao’s few interactions this week and the gossip he’s picked up, is a selfish, disgusting pervert who wouldn’t spit on Jin Guangyao if he was on fire.

Just because his mother wanted him to?

She was a good woman, he hears again, in Lan Xichen’s sincere voice. But Jin Guangyao doesn’t get it. She had to have been a fool, to believe in Jin Guangshan, or terribly cold and cruel to send him to Jin Guangshan knowing exactly what kind of derision would await him here. He is a war hero, and yet he’s treated like a servant.

Jin Guangyao is in the mood to be charitable, so he picks the former.

He still doesn’t know why he stayed.

[You can now read part 2 here!]

[rebeccccccaaa]

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ɴᴇʀᴅ ⓟⓐⓡⓣ ①

______________________

ғʀᴀᴛʙᴏʏ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x sʜʏ-ɪsʜ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀᴜ 

(ɪɴᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ɪ ɢᴜᴇss)

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: (two part series!) You’re starting to struggle in class and decide to ask your professor for some tutoring or extra classes to boost your  grade. He ends up assigning the last person you’d expect to tutor you. (is it really a surprise though?)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: none in this chapter ;)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟸.𝟸ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅs (sᴏʀʀʏ ɪᴛ’s ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ)

______________________

You stare at your work for what seems like hours before deciding to glance at the clock only to find it’s been 20 mins. This subject was never your strong suit but in order to earn your desired degree, you had to take this class. You’d been putting it off for some time but it’s just better to get it over with then struggle right before graduation. So here you are sitting and staring at the work that just doesn’t seem to make sense. 

By the time your professor released the class for the day, you’d barely even lifted your pen from the table.

“Y/n, could I speak to you for a minute?” your professor said, “James, if you could stay as well.”

“What’s up, professor?” Bucky flashed a cheeky smile. The bastard has always been charming since you saw him and especially taking a couple classes with him too. A huge player too of course. I mean what’s a frat boy without getting laid after every party they throw.

“Lemme speak to you first,” he gestured to you, “how is the assignment going?”

You were a bit embarrassed to admit that you were struggling a lot especially in front of Bucky. He’s actually a pretty nice person but not really being a super social one yourself, he tends to intimidate you along with the rest of his friends more than you’d like to admit.

“Well if I’m being honest, I can’t seem to grasp onto the material. I’m really trying but I just can’t,” you practically whispered.

You didn’t want to but you took a quick glance at Bucky to see what he was probably thinking but thankfully he was on his phone; probably giving you as much privacy as he could. 

“Well is there anything you like me to do to help in understanding the material? Maybe a tutor?”

“Yes, that would probably be beneficial,” you chuckled.

“Perfect, because James here is one the best students I’ve had,” ok kinda backhanded. 

Bucky’s head shot up when he heard his name and quickly put his phone away averted his attention to the professor. 

“Right James?”

“Hmm?” 

“James here has a  97% in the class. He’s got the highest grade of all my classes,” the professor seemed like a proud father to him. Bucky merely just shook his head, getting really shy almost. Bucky, shy? Weird. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” he murmured.

“Nope, 100% true. Your teachers and I talk a lot about you. You’re very gifted, James,” James looked at you completely embarrassed. You stood with wide eyes because you didn’t think frat boys actually took their studies seriously. They’re usually up late with all the parties they throw every weekend and some of them are so indulged into their sports that they probably didn’t have time to get A’s in their classes. 

“So what do you say, Y/n? Willing to let him tutor you?”

“I mean if he has time and wants to, I’d be very appreciative of it.”

“Yeah I guess I can,” he smiled.

“Thank you, and thank you too, Professor.”

“Looking forward to that assignment, Y/n. Now scram, kids.”

“Hey thanks for-”

“You can’t tell anyone that I'm tutoring you,” he cut you off, not in a mean way, just panicked.

“Oh ok.”

“I mean it. Look it was already hard getting into the frat house and now being head of house, it’ll be embarrassing if they found out I’m a nerd.”

“What’s so bad about being a nerd?”

“I don’t know. It’s like an unspoken rule I guess.”

“What a nerd,” you joked.

“Whatever,” he chuckled, “So your place or mine?” 

“Huh?” you questioned.

“For tutoring? Do you want me to come over?”

“Oh I thought we would do that in the library or something,” you responded.

“I mean we can, I just didn’t know what time and the library closes pretty early.”

“You can come over. I’ll ask my roommate if it’s ok.”

“Ok, let me get your number so we can coordinate.”

“Ok, thanks again, Tom.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he smiled back.

+++

“Girl what are you getting yourself into?” your roommate, Natasha questioned.

“What do you mean?” 

“Buck is gonna tutor you? I’m pretty sure he knows jack shit about what is going on in that class.” Right, no one knows he’s practically a genius. 

“I don’t know. My professor said he could help me so I’m gonna give it a shot. He can’t stupider than me, especially with this subject.”

“Ok,” she mocked.

“But if he tries anything let me know,” she warned.

“Why would he try anything?” you asked, confused about the sudden subject change. 

“Y/n, Bucky is a huge player. He’s hooked up with like more than half the girls in the sorority houses. Hell, even I hooked up with him.”

“Oh my god, what!”

“It was last year when I was in a house. I hated it so I moved out this year. Still friends with Wanda though. You’d like her.”

“Ok well I don’t think he will, I mean look at me.”

“What?”

You hesitated because you weren’t the most confident person. There was nothing wrong with you but there also wasn’t anything special. You were barely a social person let alone some who could easily pursue a relationship or even a hook up. 

“I think you’re hot, but something tells me you think otherwise,” Nat said.

“I don’t wanna get into it but just know you won’t have to worry about anything happening.”

You texted Bucky that he could come over whenever he was available and about 30 mins later he was knocking on your door ready to help you with the assignment.

+++

Obviously nothing happened that night, or the night after, or the night after. Or the next four weeks after. Bucky was actually helping you understand the material a lot better. You were still a bit confused but not as much as before. During your sessions you were beginning to learn a lot more things about Bucky like how his childhood best friend Steve Rogers was also a member in the house; and also knows about his prodigy brain. 

“How’s the tutoring going?” Steve asked walking into the kitchen where you and Bucky were doing work.  

“Good I guess,” you responded.

“Well I’ll uh, leave you two be.”

He didn’t in fact  leave but instead start gesturing quite aggressively to ask you more questions to get to know you better. See what you didn’t know was that Bucky had taken even more of a liking to you since starting  your study sessions together. He never pursued anything because he didn’t want to scare you and definitely didn’t want you to think that he was taking advantage of the situation you guys were in; you know being your tutor and all.

Sure Bucky was kind of  a player but the rumors of sleeping with another girl at every party every weekend wasn’t totally true. He hooked up with a couple girls but he wasn’t a sex addict. And he definitely didn’t leave them high and dry. He would usually meet up with the girls but they didn’t seem to want anything more than a one night stand. 

He sort of gave up on finding a relationship and soon after altogether stopped having sex, especially at their parties the boys host every weekend. He definitely wasn’t waiting until marriage but he didn’t want to feel used anymore because that was seemingly the case after each ‘hook-up’ that happened. 

When Bucky first saw you in class, he truly thought you the most beautiful girl ever. He quickly caught on to the fact that you were not a social person; you weren’t exactly shy but definitely didn’t initiate conversation. You always kept to yourself in the back of each classroom and quietly did your work. Bucky goddamn fell head over heels for you. 

But you two never talked.

Every chance he got to initiate some sort of conversation was quickly taken away whether it’d be the end of class time where you’d briskly leave the classroom to attend your next lecture, or the boys in his house would meet up with him completely interfering with his window to talk to you. And it’s not like you ever went to any of the frat parties. 

So he continued to chase you all the while having absolutely no idea one of the most well known and well liked frat boys at the university having this massive giant enormous fat crush on you. And to top it off, now that he’s certainly got all the time in the world to finally get to know you, he freezes up and can only seem to answer your questions… about school.

You didn’t take Bucky to be such an awkward guy. You definitely didn’t think with all the girls that are constantly after him and how charismatic he seemed he would actually be super quiet awkward after the initial ‘Hey, what’s up!’.

You grew a liking to him though because he wasn’t annoying. The majority of guys in the house were pretty loud and obnoxious whenever you got the chance to hear them usually while you were studying in Bucky’s room because again, no one really knew how much of a nerd he really was. But you never actually met the rest of the boys. You’d always managed to sneak out to avoid confrontation about why you're even there. 

Speaking of loud and obnoxious frat boys.

“Hey hey hey!” they walked in.

Immediately you and Bucky grabbed all the papers and threw them in your backpack while Steve went out to hopefully stall the boys from coming into the kitchen like they always did after football practice. 

As soon as the last paper went inside your bag, the boys walked past Steve into the kitchen to find you and Bucky standing there awkwardly.

“Who’s this?” Tony asked.

“This is a girl in my class, Y/n.”

“Whatcha doing here?”

“She’s tutoring me,” Bucky quickly lied. Ironically. 

“Oh man, dude,” one of the boys laughed.

“Well we’ll be out of your hair. Good luck, Bucky and don’t annoy her.”

“We’ll be in my room studying you guys are fine,” Bucky grabbed your arm and took upstairs to his room.

“So they’re fine with you being tutored but not tutoring?” you asked in a mocking tone.

“It’s a weird rule but also a lot of the guys downstairs get tutored too. Like Vis, and Thor, oh Thor. Loki does too and Steve. But if I’m being honest, I  do in fact think Bruce and Tony are science nerds. But Tony sleeps around enough to distract from it, not Bruce so much but he’s pretty quiet.”

“Ugh, boys.”

“Anyways, shall we continue?” he chuckled.

“I guess, yeah.”

After about an hour in his room, you ended up leaning out of studying and more into talking and getting to know each other; properly this time. 

“And yeah, that’s how my sister’s pants exploded.”

“That’s hilarious.”

There was a moment of silence between you two before it got too awkward and you spoke out.

“I should probably get going.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“I can call a cab. It’s fi-”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted, “I’ll drive you. It’s not a big deal.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yeah. It’s totally fine.”

You told Bucky your address to your apartment and remained in silence during the majority of the car ride.

“You know I never striked you as a quiet person,” you broke the silence.

“What? I’m not a quiet person.”

“Yes you are. Everytime we have a study session it’s usually silent until I have to ask you a question about something.”

“Well, it’s not my intention to be so awkward around you.”

“Why are you?” you asked him.

“I don’t know,” then it got quiet again.

You arrived at your apartment and unclicked your seatbelt. You turned to Bucky to say goodbye and realized how close you two were. Admittedly you didn’t mind too much; what you didn’t expect was for Bucky to in fact kiss you. He grabbed your arm gently and pulled closer to him as his eyes closed, lips moving against yours slowly. You weren’t exactly mad but you weren’t also happy with this outcome. 

Despite Bucky not hooking up with anyone for a long time now and being completely enamored by you, you still believe he was a ladies man because he hadn’t told you otherwise. You didn’t want to be another name added to the list of a frat boy’s one night stands. So you pulled away with slightly furrowed brows and Bucky realized he fucked up. 

“Thanks again, Bucky,” you quickly got out of the car, not acknowledging him shouting your name before the car door closed. You ran up the steps to enter your apartment as fast as you can, still feeling the taste of him on your lips and tongue. God why did he have to do that?

Bucky sat in his car for a bit but decided to leave to not bother you and possibly fuck things up more than they already are. He’ll wait for you to come to him so he doesn’t seem invasive. Yeah that’s the plan.

But things don’t normally go to plan right?

[crystallizedkingdoms]

it’s Johann Appreciation Week! man, I remember last year’s like it was yesterday. I’m glad to be participating again :) because the @johann-appreciation-week has been so lovely enough to allow us to make our own prompts and ideas, the prompts I have given myself are…

…Mitski songs! because I am an insufferable bastard who’s going to her concert tomorrow so I’m making that everyone’s problem for this entire week! yahoo!

today’s song: Everyone (Laurel Hell, 2022)

word count: 1,463

“Don’t.”

Johann tensed up. That wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “What do you mean ‘don’t���? I didn’t spend my time practicing for nothing,” he said, closing the front door just a tiny bit.

“That place can be dangerous at these times, Jo. I wouldn’t want you playing there right now,” Mom warned.

Johann swung his violin case side to side, annoyed by the sudden lecture his mother would spiel into. “You said I could do it. It’s literally only a few blocks away.”

“I didn’t think you were serious, baby. You know I don’t enjoy you going unsupervised… Now, watch yourself, Johann. Don’t think I can’t see you rolling your eyes,” she said, her attention mostly occupied by the dinner she was preparing. “Have a seat, Johann. I’m almost finished.”

The scents were enticing, but even more alluring was the desire to play in front of the little corner his mother had often taken him to see other bards who played in public. It tugged on his heart, to chase after the dream he so desperately needed in his life since he was in his teens now.

“Did you hear me? Close the door and sit down,” Mom called out again.

Johann remained where he was. “Mom? I’m going out. Today’s not too busy, which might not bring a lot of attention, but I’ll be safe. You know where to find me, I won’t go anywhere else between the distance from here to there.” The script he recited was one he practiced for days before this, listing off all the things he knew his mom would fret over. She had to let him go, right?

His mom did not reply. Johann wished he could hear her thoughts, see if she would let him go or not. He hated the stretch of time in silence, silently waiting at the door, the darkness of nightfall having quickly approached.

Another few minutes passed in silence. Grueling silence. It was only broken when his mother asked, “Johann? Are you still there?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Hah! I expected you to have run off at this point,” she admitted. Johann’s mother walked out into the living space, staring down at Johann with crossed arms. A brown bag hung within one of her hands, to that he smiled.

“So does this mean you’re letting me go?” he asked.

Johann’s mother sighed and handed the bag over to him. The bottom felt hot in his free hand, but it smelt nice. “I wish you wouldn’t go—” Johann immediately wilted, “but I can’t pretend like you aren’t going to go anyway.”

Even though Johann did get her permission… It still felt wrong. He felt disappointed. “Why don’t you want me to go?” he asked, despite knowing the answer.

“You know I enjoy your passion for music. I don’t mean to come off as dismissive of this career you want to take, you know that. But you also know it’s not as simple as playing out in the streets and dazzling people with your talent. It’s not just playing all day and getting people to fall into your lap with coins.

“It’s a taxing job! One that I really don’t believe you’re ready for yet, Johann. Being out on the street for a time just… isn’t something a young man like you should worry about. I also think you can manage so much better. So, get this night out of the way, come back home, and we can discuss some things then, okay?” his mom said.

Johann hated the explanation more than he thought he would.

He pulled his violin case closer to himself with a bitter glare towards the door. Forgetting to hold himself back, he yelled, “Why can’t you just let me do it? I never said this was something I was gonna pursue forever! It’s just something I want to try, and that’s important to me! Why can’t that be enough? Why do I have to prove that everything I do is up to your standards?”

That got his mother to be quiet. It’s a silence even more sickening than the one before and it ate at Johann’s insides until he felt no appetite for the food in his hand.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Not an apology, not a more rude assertion of his emotions, nothing. He just stood there at the front door of their small Neverwinter house, feeling barren inside… except for that deep tug to run out and play his violin, and feel that surge of creation flow through him as with any other time he did it.

“You may go, Johann,” his mother finally said. Johann couldn’t discern the emotion in her voice. It was no wonder where he got that deadpan habit from; his mother had practically perfected it.

“Mom, I—”

“I’m giving you a chance. Take it, Johann,” she asserted, her voice firm as she pointed down the street.

Taking the chance, Johann took a deep breath and let his music take him.

———

“Don’t.”

How sick of that word Johann has become.

“You said it would be hard to find a well paying job,” Johann says. “I found one. Now you don’t want me to go?”

“Because you won’t even tell me what the job is. Where you’re going to be working. Why won’t you tell me where this place is?” Barbara asks.

Johann shrugs. He wishes he had a better answer for her, but… what could he say? When he couldn’t even mutter any description of the job he had been offered without his words trickling off into crackling static to anyone other than those inoculated, Johann couldn’t answer if he wanted to.

It surprised him to realize he didn’t want to.

“Please, Johann,” Barbara sighs and rubs her temple. It’s a pain being so vague with his mother, but Johann couldn’t answer.

“I’ll visit you. I have that guaranteed, mom, I’ll visit as soon as I can.”

Barbara rolls her eyes. Fun, how he got that habit from her. Seeing it used against him felt only natural.

Johann fiddles with the handle of his luggage. “I’ll send letters. Often, I promise I’ll send them often,” he offers. It wasn’t a lie, he was going to send them. Often, however… He isn’t sure what would count as “often” when he would soon be spending his days peddling out writings for some brilliant creature.

“Johann, please, all I ask of you is to stay. You won’t have to do any of that if you just stayed.”

“Mom, I need to go. I have to. This is just what I needed, and I— I can’t afford to let it slip away,” Johann insists.

To that, Barbara remains silent. With her arms crossed in front of her chest, seated on the kitchen table, Johann is struck with just how exhausted she looks.

“…Is there nothing I can say to get something out of you?”

Johann considers it. He truly almost lets the words spill out of his mouth, to let his mother hear the stifling static and realize that this is something exceedingly important. An important mission that Johann, her closed off son, could actually be a part of! Something that mattered not only to him, but the entire world.

But he doesn’t. Johann knows his mother would not see it that way. She’d see it as dangerous, an unnecessary risk. Why concern yourself with such a heavy duty when you could leave that job to those who were fit for it? he can practically hear her say. That’s not what he needs at this moment.

So instead, Johann grips the handle tighter. “No, mom,” he mumbles, “There’s nothing. I have to do this. It’s important to me. Why can’t that be enough?”

Barbara looks up at him sharply, her jaw tight and her eyes narrowed. Johann is suddenly aware of what he just said to an uncomfortable degree and nearly shrinks away from her gaze. It takes a horrifying strength to not do so. “If it’s important to you, then I cannot hold you back,” she finally says. “But I expect visits.”

“Of course.”

“And letters.”

“Yes, mom.”

She stands up from her chair and walks towards Johann. Her hand makes way to his cheek, running her thumb along his skin. “And you can tell me to my face that you’re not joining some MLM cult thing?”

That gets a laugh out of both of them. Johann rests his head on Barbara’s hand with a small smile, saying, “Yes, mom, I promise I’m not joining an MLM cult thing.”

Barbara grins back up at him, but there is a settled weariness in her face. “You promise you’ll be safe?” she asks. It’s almost a plea.

“I promise I’ll be safe.”

[softcallofdutyimagines]

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 7 - Finale

Summary:

It all comes down to this. Will Frank be able to make things right?

Tags: Slow burn, fluff, age difference, angst

Tag requests: @direwolfspostsrandomshit

Chpt 1 | Chpt 2 | Chpt 3 | Chpt 4 | Chpt 5 | Chpt 6 Warnings: strong language, age difference, and references to depression like symptoms and past childhood trauma

Another hour passes. Another beer down.

The television drones on in the background while he stares right through it. Why is he even watching this? He hates TV.

He should be training today, maybe the gym or the firing range, but… He just doesn’t feel like it.

His stomach growls. He looks at the clock. He should get something to eat, but… He doesn’t feel like that either.

At last the cramping moves him to action, and sluggishly he gets up and wanders to the kitchen. He grabs his go-to as of late, a bag of chocolate chips for baking. His diet’s been such shit lately, and he knows it’s not helping. He hates that. And he loves it. Because right now he’ll do anything just to get even a flicker of feeling.

Good. Bad. He doesn’t care.

He just wants to feel.

It’s been a couple weeks since he last saw you, out back behind the CIA gym, and he’s been numb ever since. Mason’s been trying to bring him out of it all this time.

‘You did the right thing’, he says. ‘She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know what she’s doing’, and then, ‘If anything, you did her a favor. She doesn’t really want to get caught up like that with an old guy, right?’, he laughs.

He eats another handful of chocolate and looks down at himself. ‘She doesn’t want to...’ Is he really that repulsive? He runs a hand over his belly. It’s been feeling more rounded than usual.

Fuck.

For a moment, that same old burning, consuming flare of fury he’s so used to getting rises up. He grips the plastic bag so tightly, his knuckles turn white.

His discipline has been getting looser and his belt has been getting tighter, the polar fucking opposite of how things should be. His nostrils flare and lips draw back to reveal tightly clenched teeth, like a dog readying for an attack. Every muscle in his body tenses as he bores holes into nothing in particular. He starts to cock his arm back.

Throwing something will help him feel better.

Right?

He aims for the wall and winds up for an all star pitch, and then…

and then…

He can’t even muster the motivation for that.

As quickly as it came, the anger leaves, and as he lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his entire body relaxes once more. What the fuck is wrong with him anyway?

What, mommy and daddy didn’t love him enough, so now he throws little tantrums whenever the fuck he feels like it? He mocks himself, feeling almost ashamed suddenly of all his outbursts, but when he thinks about it…

Yeah.

Maybe that...

He sighs, suddenly feeling extremely defeated and very alone. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised you left him. Everyone else who ever loved him did.

Woods drops the bag of chocolate from his limply hanging arm and watches the pieces scatter and roll all over the floor.

Whatever. He’ll eat something else.

This is how it’s been for weeks and this how it’ll be for the foreseeable future. He lazes around, completely numb to the outside world, grazing his pantry and doing anything to distract himself from his thoughts. If only any of it worked. Then at night he’ll lay awake well past midnight, until either regular exhaustion or exertion from shedding tears sends him to sleep.

But it wasn’t always like this.

After the first few days since he chased you off, he tried to make up for it.

He called.

He tried to see you at work.

He even sent you some fucking flowers and a letter.

Not a word back.

Well, aside from the ‘Get the fuck out of here, and don’t you fucking dare come back’ he got when he came to your office. After that one…

He hasn’t cried that hard over a woman in… Well… Ever.

And that’s what really gets to him, isn’t it? Just a woman. You’re just a fucking woman. There’s billions of others out there… And yet, he can’t manage to land even one, can he?

This message plays back in his mind over, and over, and over again.

Even now, as a slow stream of tears leak from his eyes to his pillowcase. He looks over just a few inches away to the empty half of his bed. Frank sniffs and swipes at his nose before gently plopping his hand on the pillow beside his. The fabric is icy cold against his skin.

You know, Alex told him once that he’ll lay in his wife's spot on the bed to warm up the sheets for her at night.

She hates the cold, and Alaskan nights are no joke. Would you like that? He wonders. He heard once that women are always fucking cold. He’d warm up your sheets for you, you know. Or maybe, you’d like a blanket? He’d get you one. A nice one! Fresh and new, not any of the tattered shit he keeps in his linen closet.

Or, maybe, you’d like it more if he just… Held you? He could keep you warm all by himself if you wanted him to. Would you even like him to?

Would that make you happy?

Would he make you happy?

A fresh round of tears breaks over him.

He closes his eyes and curls in on himself as he lets the sobs take over him. Damn it, he promised himself he wouldn’t do this again… He thinks about you far too much. All the time, really. And where does it get him? Somewhere about like he is now, he supposes.

He stews in his own wretchedness like this for quite some time, and it’s not until a few days later that anything changes.

Mason pounds on the door of the dingy little house, “Frank?”, he calls, “Frank, open up you bastard, I know you’re in there!”

Truthfully, he’s only in town on some work related business, but… He can’t just stand by and let his friend suffer like this.

So, he waits and waits, and pounds and pounds until he's sure the door is about to come off the hinges. Mason cups his hands to the crack of the door, shouting into it as loud as he dare, “I’m not leaving until you come out here asshole!”

At last, a quiet voice comes from the other side, “What do you want?”

For a moment, Mason is rather dumbfounded. Never before has he ever heard his friend sound so soulless. So… broken. He shakes his head, and pulls himself out of it, “Frank will you open up? I’m here to check on you man!”

Woods sighs, “Don’t waste your time”, the voice trails off as though he’s walking away.

“Hey!”, Mason pounds on the door again, “Son of a bitch, get back here!”

The door swings open abruptly, and Mason nearly falls over as the door’s taken out from him. He stumbles a moment, then catches himself as he stands up straight.

Mason locks eyes with his old friend, and Woods says nothing. Alex takes in the sight of him. His stubble is out of control, the bags under his eyes are dark and purple, and the undershirt he’s wearing could’ve used a wash about a week ago.

“Jesus…You look like shit”

“Thanks”, Woods replies flatly, “Now go away”

He makes to close the door, but Mason stops him, “Wait wait wait… Ok, I’m sorry, I just… Wow, um… Can I come in at least? Let’s talk about this”, Alex motions to Woods in his entirety.

“Do I have a choice?”

Mason pushes the door all the way open, letting himself in and taking his friend by the shoulders as he leads him further into the house, “No, we’re having a fucking intervention”

He leads him to the living room and clears a pile of clothes and trash off the cushions so they can sit down. Alex commands his friend to take a seat, then follows suit. Once they’re both settled, Mason grows serious but maintains a cautious, sympathetic veneer.

Mason rubs his hands together and gives it to him straight, “Look, I know you feel like you fucked up. I know you’re feeling lonely and it’s got you in the dumps. But… Come on man, look what’s been going on with you!”, He gestures to the living space around them.

Dirty laundry and neglected trash sit in little piles all around in a room that smells of old must with a faint, queasy scent of booze. “This is no way to live, buddy!”

Frank says nothing. Instead, he sits and listens without even attempting to make eye contact, like a child receiving a tiresome lecture.

Alex grits his teeth and tries to keep his temper in check. “So… What I’m trying to say is…. Maybe you need to get out of here, you know? Go to a game, take a vacation, something!”, he scoots a bit closer, taking on a more personal tone with his old friend, “I don’t want to see you destroy yourself like this Frank…”

Woods recoils at that, snapping to life as though he’d just now entered the conversation, “I’m not! I just… I need some time to get over this, alright!”

Mason casts an exaggeratedly doubtful look at the other man. Frank jumps to defend himself once more, but Alex cuts him off, “Ok ok! How about this, let’s you and me go out for a little bit huh? Have some beers, some guy time! I just want you to get out of this place for a little while, is that so bad?”

Frank grumbles a bit, but somewhere in there is an agreement. Mason cheers, "That's the spirit!", and drags his friend upstairs to clean up. He pushes him off to shave and shower before going downstairs to help himself to the kitchen.

It takes far longer than he anticipated, but Alex doesn’t go up to pressure the old Sargent even once. At last, the staircase creaks softly as Woods descends. He looks like a new man. Clean clothes, shaped up beard, and a gentle wafting of clean, musky shampoo emanating from him.

Woods walks up without much fanfare for himself, but Alex offers him a smile and a firm pat on the back, “There, now isn’t that better? You look great!”

Frank grunts and perhaps even mutters a thank you, but Mason is too busy trying to keep the momentum up. Once more, he drags his friend along and out to the car. The sun is starting to set and options for places to go are beginning to dwindle. Woods wonders where they’re going, and yet as the streets race by, he finds himself caring less and less.

By the time the car comes to a stop, he’s nearly fallen asleep.

Mason turns off the engine and shakes him awake, “Hey don’t fall asleep on me now, we’re just getting started!”

Woods snaps awake, but has to shield his eyes immediately. It seems impossibly bright out considering how late it is. He blinks a few times and rubs his eyes. Once they're fully adjusted, he finds that what he sees does nearly nothing to alleviate his confusion.

Before him stands the front of a pulsating night club. Blue and purple neon blaze in the dusky twilight. He can only imagine how they must look in the dead of night. A pounding beat comes from somewhere within, no doubt the drum track to some popular, modern song. Small clusters of younger people and a handful of adults hang around the doors pregaming for what they must be anticipating to be a long, wild night.

The pair get out of the car, but Woods is bewildered all the while. When Alex finally comes around to him, he can’t keep silent any longer, “What the fuck did you bring me here for?”

Mason seems almost taken aback, “For some fun? Come on, I know this isn’t really your scene but maybe that’s exactly what you need! Something new and fun, right?”, he doesn’t wait for a response, instead he pushes his friend along as they head towards the entrance.

The air seems thick and hazy around him, a fact only highlighted by the glowing miasma created by the neon interior. If Alex wasn’t pulling him along, he’s sure he’d get lost.

Alex takes him over to a table buried back in the corner. They take a seat and despite being right across from each other, Mason nearly has to shout to be heard over all the noise, “Want a drink?”

Woods thinks about it for a moment, still taking in the environment as he does so. He’s trying to find the bar, and when he does he figures it’s impossible to miss. A huge back wall of glass bottles, all lit up by a halo of purple neon and cool fluorescent lights stands bright as a beacon behind a solid bar top and array of stools and customers.

“Sure, I can get my own”

“Great! Hey, grab my usual would ya? I’m gonna take a leak real quick”, he points over his shoulder and excuses himself as he makes for the restrooms.

This… is not at all what he wanted.

Suddenly, Woods feels trapped and alone again, no better than he was back in his own home. Except now he’s surrounded by the heat, noise, and stench of over a hundred other people.

The lights feel heavy and blinding, the pulsating pop music, deafening. He trudges up to the bar slowly yet surely, but with every step he comes closer to committing to his plan of escaping back to Alex’s car.

He never should’ve went along with this… he was just fine at home, damn it.

Lost in his thoughts and half blinded by the smoke and lights, he runs smack into another person. With a dampened thud, they hit the ground hard. Wood swears under his breath and figures he can at least offer a hand. He bends down to help up the fallen individual, only to see…

You.

Suddenly, it’s as if all the haze and fog has cleared from his eyes. He can see you clear as day down here, and the noise and smells of the crowd all fade away. A soft blue glow highlights your features, and an electric magenta bounces off your hair. The sparkling, sequined little dress you wear glitters in the halo of light descending around you, and a thousand flecks of light reflect back onto his worn, tired face.

Woods' hand hangs in mid air, half way through it’s journey to assist you. He whispers your name, quietly and fondly, as though he never thought he’d see you again.

For the first time in what must have been days, a smile breaks free from his stern glower.

But all you see is the asshole who teased you along for weeks, only to give you the highest embarrassment by sending you off like a misbehaving child after you were at your most vulnerable with him.

You were ready to give him your very body, and he only felt up what he wanted and sent you off.

With a sneer, you slap his hand away and hop up on your own. You don’t even bother to spare him a word. Instead, you stare daggers into him and walk off.

For a moment. For a second time… He watches you go.

He should let you walk away.

After what he did, you deserve at least the privacy. And that’s aside from the fact that you’re clearly pissed.

But he can’t. Not again.

“Hey, wait!”, he dashes after you, shoving his way through the crowd. A little too roughly, he grabs your upper arm and spins you around. You yank yourself free from his grip and glare right through him. Even through all the rage…

You look so beautiful in this light.

“I… I- uh. Hey”

“Hey?”, your blood is boiling. Is that all he has to say for himself?

The venom in your voice makes him recoil, shrinking back into himself. But still… “I uh, I just… H-how are you… I didn’t think you’d be in a place like this, heh…”

Out of pure manners, you respond, “Fine. What are you doing here?”, you cross your arms, defensive, but genuinely curious.

Woods looks over his shoulder then all round, searching for any sign of Mason. Nothing. He snaps his attention back to you, trying to come up with any reason at all to explain himself. Frank stutters for an answer, but you end your indulgent lapse before he can say anything coherent and turn to walk away.

“Wait! I… I-I miss you...”

You whip around, seething with anger. Then, very seriously, you ask, “Are you following me?”

“What? No! Fuck no! I just… I miss you, that’s all!”

You scoff, “Well maybe you should’ve fucking thought of that first”

“...You’re right”

That stops you dead. This is nothing like the Woods you know… You can’t recall a single time he’s had the humility, let alone the balls, to admit that he’s wrong.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah…”, he sighs, and even in the darkness of the club you can see a glimpse of just how much pain he’s in, “Look… I shouldn’t have done that, back there behind the gym. You trusted me and I fucked it up. I know. It’s just… I was scared”

A biting edge creeps back into your voice. You don’t buy that. “Scared? Of what, getting caught?”

“What? No! I was scared… that I was taking advantage of you, alright?”

You blink, and suddenly all the rage leaves you, as though the hot air was deflated right out of you. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Well I mean… You know… Y-you’re just a kid, and I’m… not. I just- It didn’t feel right. Hell, I didn’t even get a chance to ask if you really wanted all that, I just… went for it”

You take a little step closer, your hard gaze softening just a touch, “Well… It’s not like I was saying no”, you chuckle

“Yeah, but that’s not the fucking same, you know?”

You look away, “Yeah…”

“So… Anyway… I’m sorry, alright?”

At last, you turn back and smile at him, “Alright. I forgive you, and… thanks. For saying that”

Woods nods and accepts your thanks. The two of you share a little smile and a short pause of uncertain silence until he breaks the silence, “So… What now?”

You look him up and down. He’s wearing jeans and a tightly fitting flannel, a stark contrast to all the trendy, flashy fashion of the rest of the clubbers, and yet it’s so… him. You trace a finger down his limp, tattooed arm, stopping at his fingers to intertwine them with yours.

“How about a dance?”, you tug his hand gently, then nod towards the dance floor.

A feeling like euphoria washes over him, and time seems slow as he floats along while you tug him through the crowd. Somewhere in the beautiful, prismatic show of lights, he hears himself agree. You lead him to a cramped, but vacant spot on the glowing dance floor and turn an ear to the music, “Hey, I love this song…”

Woods perks up to listen, just in time to catch the start of More Than A Woman, muffled slightly by all the noise and bustle of the crowd.

It’s like it’s playing from within a dream.

You rest your hands on his chest, letting them slide down so that the heels of your palms sit where the curve of his stomach begins to swell out. Frank has his hands on your waist, swaying in time with you slowly to the music. He clears his throat and looks away from your sparkling, gorgeous eyes, a nervous blush creeping up his neck.

He knows you’ve been over this before, but… “Yeah, uh… so, you know, I’ve been thinking I should lose some weight... You know, while you’ve been… gone”, he moves your hands up from his belly to clasp behind his neck.

You quirk up your brow, a confused smile on your lips, “Why?”

“Uh, I don’t know… I think it makes me look old, I guess”

You laugh and come a little closer, your bodies nearly touching, “Well, if it means anything... I don’t think so”, You inch up and kiss his cheek, bringing one hand down to rest on his softened pect. He huffs a nervous laugh and masks the flattered embarrassment with a timid smile as he covers your hand with his, holding it there just a little while more.

He's never forgotten how amazing your touch alone feels.

He clears his throat and re-establishes eye contact. A whole kaleidoscope of color plays inside your eyes. He could get lost in them for the rest of his life. “You uh… wow. You- you look beautiful tonight...”, he steals a quick glance as your little, sparkly dress and the neon rainbow refracting off the thousands of tiny sequins, “Nearly gave this old man a heart attack when I first saw you”, he laughs.

“Oh?”, you smirk and lead him into a turn, “ In that case, you should see me take it off”

His heart pounds underneath your palm, but his face looks frozen with surprise. He doesn’t hear women say that kind of stuff to him often…

“D-do you… Do you mean that?”

“Well, I mean… Maybe after this, I’d love t-”

“No, not that. I mean… Me. D-do you really feel that way about me?”

You stop dancing for a moment.

His words cut deeply with the quiver of hope they carry, as though it had never crossed his mind that someone would want to be with him.

“Of course I do. But… I want you more then just for that you know”, you chuckle.

His cheeks go pink, “Oh. Damn, so you like that kind of st-?”

You place a single finger to his lips, shushing him. “I meant… I love you”

Your words echo back to him in slow motion, as though reality and time itself are breaking all around him to unveil a haven of euphoria. His heart is beating in his ears, and yet it sounds slow and calm, just like the wild crowd and the blaring music all around him.

Everything grows quieter and softer until it all fades away, leaving behind just you and him.

He wracks his brain, trying to remember the last time he heard those words, only to come up empty handed. It’s been so long… He can’t even remember.

Frank looks back at you, a little neon angel clinging to his beat up old shirt. Gorgeous. That’s all he can think of when he sees you. He almost feels like he shouldn't even have the privilege to do so. You bat long lashes up at him and a slow smile draws across your soft, glossy lips.

More than a woman…

Slowly, you come up to meet your lips to his. You’ve kissed before, but this… It feels like the first kiss of his entire life.

He presses back gently, sucking softly as he draws you close. You smell like dark cherry and amber, some combination of perfume and lip gloss. The faint smell of whisky and musk radiating off of him mingles with the divine scent of you.

He can taste it all on his tongue, even as he slides it over to flick across yours.

More than a woman to me…

At long last you part, breathing softly as your eyes drift up to meet one another's. And when he looks down into those deep, glittering pools, he wonders how he never saw all the love and warmth they hold for him. The love they always had.

“I love you too…”, he whispers, tears stinging at his eyes and voice, before he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

And now? The love they always will.

[madswritingvoid]

Say You’re Sorry

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Words: 3k (oops haha)

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, fingering, swearing, slight choking, first time writing smut should probably be a warning itself, sexism, Max Phillips is a warning probably.

You knew it was a bad idea. Well, actually, no you didn’t. Not fully. The voice in your head was just screaming at you to stop - there were other ways to get his attention. Other ways to make Max feel bad for what he did during the Synersavers presentation that didn’t require you stooping this low. Fuck it, you figured, if he can go around and do whatever he wants to get his way then so can I.

Fixing your hair and outfit in the mirror one last time, you went back into the office looking for the desk you usually avoid like the plague. Max Phillips, fuck you.

Earlier That Day

“So you see, Mr. Jacobson, our third quarter projections have us coming in on top by two million dollars and the fourth quarter is looking even better. I mean really champ, if these numbers were anymore amazing they’d be as hot as your associate there in that fetching skirt,” Max winks at the woman taking meeting minutes for your potential new client, causing her skin to blotch, “fucking unreal. Pardon my French,” he finishes, earning a big laugh from the CEO of Synersavers, the new bullshit placebo pill that was supposed to alter the brain’s natural neural pathways to promote synergy. You weren’t sure what dreams synergy was helping pathetic humans to achieve, but it meant a bonus if they signed on so you made sure that PowerPoint presentation was the best slides of your career.

You scoff, worried that if you roll your eyes they’ll get stuck. You know Max Phillips was quite the charmer, you knew better than anyone in the office. This past year saw him go from being just your hot vampire boss you had a crush on, to your hot vampire boss that was now your boyfriend. 

While you never made an official statement to your coworkers, you quietly signed the papers Amanda in HR needed signed and let the sound of you screaming Max’s name in his office while he was balls deep inside you let the rest of your coworkers know of your relationship. Overall, Max was a great boyfriend. Better than expected even - attentive, caring, protective to a fault, all while still being that loveable (?) piece of shit frat boy extraordinaire he had been at the beginning. 

You knew he still had to lay on the charm to close sales from time to time, never actually violating your relationship in any way, but after the fight you had this morning you didn’t think flirting with the only person in the meeting who did not actually control whether or not this partnership was going to happen right in front of you was the best move.

“Mr. Phillips,” Jacobson says, once again only acknowledging Max and completely ignoring you as he had been for the entire presentation, “you got quite the silver tongue. But I like that about ya, I think you get what our product is all about and I wanna make this partnership work. I’m surprised your presentation is as good as it was, because if you’ll pardon my French, if my secretary looked as delicious as yours does I’d be too busy fucking her left, right, and centre to even think about the fourth quarter anything!” He laughs and claps Max on the shoulder and you tense up, sure that Max is going to say something. Not even because he’s your boyfriend, but because he landed the sale and doesn’t have to be as sleazy as this dickhead is. 

“See that’s where you’re wrong Jacobson, it’s almost like I’m working double to avoid her. Just doesn’t get the mojo flowing, y’know? Maybe we should switch, what do you think sweetheart?” He looks over at the still flustered secretary, “Come on and work for me and we’ll work on some new ways of making synergy happen,” he wags his eyebrows and you’re surprised this poor woman hasn’t slid right off her seat. You’re stunned. Even as Mr. Jacobson laughs and brings a laughing Max into some sort of capitalist bro hug, you can’t bring yourself to move. It isn’t until you hear the squeak of the wheels from the chair Mr. Jacobson’s secretary was sitting against the shitty meeting room carpet that you snap back to the present and shut everything down. By the time you finish everyone is long gone, leaving you to stew in your rage.

A hesitant knock on the meeting room door makes you jump as you’re met with a sheepish looking Evan in the doorway. You were never a big fan of Evan when you started, kind of thought he was a wimp but he was nice enough. After getting with Max and learning their shared history, you couldn’t stand Evan, but were able to be far more professional when needed until Max.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still in here after Max and the Synersavers people left,” he shrugged. “What the fuck do you mean Max left with them?” You asked through clenched teeth. Scratching the back of his neck nervously, Evan took a deep breath before telling you, “yeah, um. They left for a late liquid lunch from what it sounded like, Max said you would be too busy learning how to make a paper clip bracelet to join them… Sorry, he’s such an asshole. You don’t deserve that, especially not from that bastard,” He couldn’t meet your eyes. Even though he still tried to tell you to leave Max every single day, you appreciate him being there this time.

There were many things you could be mean to Evan for, but deep down you knew he didn’t deserve the wrath of your anger this time. 

Later That Afternoon

After taking the elevator up to the office to mentally cleanse his mind from that mindless lunch with that absolute creep Jacobson, Max was trying to come up with the best apology for you. He knew he didn’t have to be so forward flirting with that secretary, what the fuck was her name anyways, in order to win the sexist CEO over. But he was feeling petty after your fight while you were getting ready for work he figured it wouldn’t hurt to remind you that many other women find him quite the catch.

“You’re lying! You have to be lying!! There’s no way that happened oh my god,” Max stops dead in his tracks as he hears your giggles from inside the office. “It is! I totally saw Tim practising the dance moves the day after that Kelly Clarkson concert in the men’s washroom. I didn’t even know she had dancers, but from what I saw it really must have been a hell of a show,” Evan says as you throw your head back and let out another over-the-top cackle. You’re sitting on top of Evan’s desk, resting your hand on his shoulder as he sits in between your open legs, clearly enjoying the attention. 

You’re hamming it up, he knows that, he knows that’s not what your real laugh sounds like - the laugh he gets to hear when he really does something that you like. He knows you don’t mean it but he’s immediately flooded with anger and guilt. He obviously didn’t realize how much the day had taken a toll on you and now you must be really mad if you’re going to Evan to get back at him.

“Oh my god Evan that’s too funny,” you giggle and place a hand on his shoulder, “you just made my day! I won’t tell Tim anything, it’ll be our little secret,” you wink. Evan’s blush deepens at the touch, maybe you weren’t so bad after all and if Max (and Amanda at this point) didn’t look out he would maybe ask you out for a drink sometime soon. Bring you back to the land of the living.

Deciding he’s absolutely had enough, Max quietly comes up behind Evan and slaps both hands on his shoulders after seeing you move yours back to your lap, causing him to freeze and let out a little squeak. “Slugger, I’m sure whatever’s going on here is just too funny, but didn’t I ask you to finish up that presentation for tomorrow’s meeting with NuevaWeight?” he pouts, “I really thought you were taking this job seriously buddy, but maybe I should just get Andrew to take over…”

“N-no Max, sorry. Yeah the presentation is almost done, it’ll be ready before the end of the day,” Evan stammers. Max finally meets your eyes and smirks, “and you can meet me in my office. Apparently you think you can stop doing your job and distracting my employees.”

You can’t even speak, your jaw set and eyes burning from the absolute rage you feel right now. Yeah you’ll meet him in his office, but it won’t be so he can lecture you about whatever bullshit he’s already thought of. “Of course Mr. Phillips, meet you there,” you manage to snap back, calmly making your way to his office. Anyone walking by you immediately gets out of your way, your anger coming off in waves making your undead coworkers shiver.

Clapping Evan on the shoulder one more time, Max saunters over to his office, ready to make you beg for his forgiveness after that little stunt. As soon as he opens his office door he realizes that won’t be happening.

You’re sitting in his chair, legs propped up on his desk in a way that makes your skirt ride up and expose more thigh than what HR might deem office appropriate. “Ah, Mr. Phillips, so nice of you to make it,” you smirk. “Sweets, I think there must be some sort of misunderstandi-'' you cut him off with a dark look and stand up. Walking up to him you close his office door and push him against it, “No champ,” you sneer, “I think you’re confused here. I’m not the one who decided to be a very, very bad boy by flirting with someone else and insulting me in front of new clients.” Chest to chest, your hand slithers up to grab Max’s throat. Even though he is a vampire who could toss you around like a ragdoll, you know he’s letting you be in control. He likes it.

“While you were out entertaining I’ve been thinking about what I could do to make you really sorry, baby. You were already on thin ice from this morning, but now you’re drowning,” you squeeze a little harder on his throat making his eyes roll back. “What are you gonna do? I’m so sorry,” he whispers. You take a moment, just looking into those eyes you love so much, before answering.

“Maybe I’ll sit on your cock. Let you fill my pussy up but not let you cum, because only good boys get to come, you know that Maxie. Maybe I’ll just use you like my own walking, talking dildo. If I’m so replaceable you won’t mind not getting to fill me up? Right?” You smirk again as he whines, his hands clenching because all he wants to do is make you feel good now. 

“You wanna run that mouth, Phillips? You wanna make everything think you’re so fucking special when I know you’re really just a scared little vamp, huh?” You say with a pout. Grabbing his hair, you force his head up so you can look right into his eyes that are now almost completely black from lust. “Come on big shot, if you wanna be a big boy then you gotta show me that mouth can do something other than just spew bullshit, slugger.” 

That’s all the permission he needs. He hoists you up in his arms and thanks to vampire speed you’re now sat on his leather couch, skirt up around your waist, underwear ripped clean off, fully exposed to his hungry eyes. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” he pouts, “let me make you feel good. I just want you-” You’ve heard enough, pushing him down so his mouth finally reaches your core. Moaning at finally tasting you, Max wastes no time taking your clit and sucking hard, already teasing your entrance with one of his long fingers. 

“Y-Yes Max, fuck! Be a good boy and make me cum just like this,” you moan and clench around the finger inside of you, knowing you’re absolutely dripping onto the couch underneath you. He adds a second, then a third, making you arch your back until you’re almost sitting up from how good he’s fucking you with his hands. His mouth doesn’t stop, sucking and licking, spelling out his apologies against your body. Knowing you’re close, he starts focusing on that spot inside of you that drives you wild. 

“Oh! Oh, Maxie yes. Such a g-good boy,” you pant, meeting his hand thrust for thrust trying to reach your high, “make me feel so good please please please baby I’m right there, I-” you can’t finish that sentence as your vision goes white and all you can do is let out a strangled moan that sounds like his name.

Once your legs start shaking you pull both of you up, undoing his belt and pushing him onto the couch so you can straddle his waist. You wrap a hand around his neck and start nipping at the area, rocking your soaked pussy along his aching cock that was now free from the confines of his dress pants a few times before sinking down on him. A wicked grin stretches across your face as his moans get louder. He chokes when he feels you gush around him, not expecting you to come again so soon but you were still sensitive from his mouth, the hair above his cock rubbing deliciously against your clit, but you wanted more still. 

Picking up the pace, you squeeze around his throat again and start taunting him, “You gonna replace me baby? Yeah? You gonna find a pussy that takes you this good? Be my guest. Go right now and find something better, or show me how goddamn sorry you are.”

Granting him permission to take over, Max flips you on your back, making sure your head is supported by one of the couch cushions. He immediately wraps your legs around his waist, angling one leg to let him sink even deep inside of you, your moans mixing together as you both revel in the feeling of him finally being inside of you. Wanting to prove himself he wastes no time pulling out just to start slamming back into you. 

You moan and clench around him, making him hiss and he doesn’t let up. Watching him disappear inside of you over and over again, he starts babbling his apologies. “N-Never baby. Could never replace you. Never gonna find a pu-pussy this fucking good. Look at you, so perfect, so so perfect taking my cock like that. I’m sorry. You’re so good. I don’t deserve it, it’s- fuck it’s so fucking good. Best pussy of all time,” he moans as you clamp down on him, your third orgasm ripping through you. 

“Yes - yes Max, that’s fucking r-right. I’m the best pussy you’ll ever have,” you moan again from being so full. You know he’s sorry so you decide to let him finish after all. Taking your hands off his shoulders, you start tangling your fingers in his hair and bring his face close to your so your lips are almost touching, “you did so good Maxie,” you coo, “you cock made me feel so fucking good I know you’re sorry now.” He shudders at your words but keeps his steady pace, trying to make you cum again, still holding back his own impending orgasm. “Thank you baby, ‘m so so sorry, I love you and I just wanna be good for you-” “shhh shhh Maxie, I know I know. You did good baby, now show me how good you are and cum inside of me.” 

That’s all he needs. 

Something between a groan and growl comes deep from within Max as he finally lets go, pushing himself as far as he can inside of you as he starts painting your walls. Coming down from his high, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck as you start peppering him with kisses wherever you can reach, carding your fingers through his hair.

“I’m really sorry baby,” you hear him mumble into your neck, “I love you.” He kisses along your throat and you hum, moving your head to give him more access. “I know Max, I love you too. I forgive you. But try that again and I’ll cut your dick off in front of the whole office,” you laugh.

He chuckles too, continuing to shower you with love. “As much as I want to stay right here forever baby, let’s go home and I can keep showing you how sorry I am,” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows to earn a giggle from you, “sounds good Maxie, you’re lucky I’m just sooooo forgiving.”

Untangling from each other and making yourselves as presentable as you care to be, you leave the office hand-in-hand, ready to see what the rest of the night has in store.

[ibijau]

I’m a fucking DUMBASS and I read a prompt wrong but only realised as I was just about to post it :D So enjoy this jzx/jc that nobody actually asked for, I guess :D

It was Jin Zixuan’s idea to go explore, mostly because he was bored out of his mind. Visits to the Lotus Piers were never particularly fun to begin with, of course, but this time Jiang Yanli was not well enough to deal with visitors, so Jin Zixuan was stuck with her boring brother instead. 

At least, it was just her boring brother this time. The Jiangs had figured out that Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan really couldn’t get along, so he was always absent for one reason or another when the Jins visited. Which would have been great, because Jin Zixuan could be convinced to tolerate Jiang Yanli when nobody bothered him or teased him or upset him in any way, but she wasn’t there and now he was stuck with Jiang Cheng who everyone said wasn’t very bright or very skilled or anything, less good than the bastard Jiang Fengmian had taken in, anyway, and…

And Jin Zixuan hadn’t wanted to spend any amount of time alone with someone unskilled, so he’d suggested that Jiang Cheng make him visit the Lotus Piers and the town around.

It turned out to be more interesting than expected. Jin Zixuan had never really gone around the Lotus Piers, usually sticking close to his mother during visits, or having tea with Jiang Yanli. He had felt no particular curiosity, knowing that of course it had to be inferior to Carp Tower. His parents often said so, criticising the Lotus Piers for its relaxed atmosphere, for the way it was so accessible to common people, for its less showy aesthetics. But Jiang Cheng, proud beyond words of his home, explained why things had been organised a certain way, why the history of the Jiang sect had favoured certain choices. His usually dull and somewhat grumpy face illuminated as he talked about the Lotus Piers, glowing in a way Jin Zixuan never knew that people could do. He’d never seen anyone do that at home.

So Jin Zixuan listened, enraptured against his will, as Jiang Cheng explained the choices of his ancestor with a skill for lecturing that none of Jin Zixuan’s teachers ever had.

“And that’s why it’s important to Yunmeng Jiang to be easily accessible to common people,” Jiang Cheng concluded as they finished their tour. “If they have a duty to us, then we have a duty to them as well, so it’s only fair.”

“My father says if we’re too easy to reach, the commoners will forget their place and start thinking they can bother us with just all their problems,” Jin Zixuan retorted, less assuredly than he normally would be when quoting his father. Jiang Cheng’s arguments had been pretty good. Or maybe it was just the conviction with which he’d said them. Jin Zixuan wasn’t used to so much passion.

Jiang Cheng shrugged.

“Well, maybe the people of Lanling are lazy or stupid then. But here, people don’t usually bother us unless it’s really needed. Except old Liu, but mostly he just needs to be given something to eat and sent back to his house so it’s fine.

Jin Zixuan felt insulted on behalf of the people of his city, but he couldn’t really argue against that logic. It annoyed him though, because Lanling was the best place in the world, he’d always been told as much, so it stung to think that maybe the people living there could be trusted less than the fishermen and lotus farmers of Yunmeng.

There was a moment of silence after that, as Jin Zixuan tried to find a way to defend his home and his people. Even if he was pretty impressed with everything Jiang Cheng had shown and told, it was absolutely impossible to admit it.

“Do you want to go in town?” Jiang Cheng asked when the silence lasted too long for his taste. “I know where to get good candies.”

“We’ll need to find an adult to come with us,” Jin Zixuan protested. “And to ask for permission, and…”

“No we won’t,” Jiang Cheng retorted, throwing him a puzzled look. “The door’s right there, and as long as we stay on the big streets it’s fine. We’re twelve, who’s going to stop us from going around a bit?”

Jin Zixuan, who was barely allowed to visit even some part of Carp Tower without supervision, stared at Jiang Cheng as if he’d grown a second head.

The wise thing to do, of course, was to refuse this invitation. Jin Zixuan couldn’t say why when he refused, because Jiang Cheng was clearly used to far more freedom than him and would mock him for still being a baby who can’t do anything on his own. But it was clear that he had to refuse. His mother would absolutely murder him if he just disappeared like that, without warning anyone, without any grown-ups to look after him.

“Come on, let’s just go!” Jiang Cheng insisted, grabbing him by the arm as if they were close, something nobody would dare to do in Carp Tower. “It’ll be fun.”

Jin Zixuan should have protested.

He had to protest.

He did not, thrilled beyond words to be doing something forbidden.

Yunmeng was a very different sort of city from Lanling, a lot freer and noisier. Jin Zixuan wondered, briefly, if that was because the people living there just weren’t the same, or if it was because the people of Lanling made special efforts to be deferential toward Jin cultivators. Back home, nobody would ever have dared to shout at a junior disciple to come check their wares or try a dish, let alone shout at the heir apparent of the sect. But people were calling out Jiang Cheng's name as if he were just one of the other children playing in the street, complaining about how long it had been since he’d visited, teasing him about managing to get rid of Wei Wuxian for a day.

Jiang Cheng took it all in stride, glowing even more than he had done when offering a tour of his home. His face looked really different when he was smiling, and Jin Zixuan found himself wondering why Jiang Cheng didn’t smile more when it suited him so much better than his usual sour expression.

Not that Jin Zixuan had that much time to observe Jiang Cheng. The familiarity with which the other boy was greeted was extended to Jin Zixuan whenever Jiang Cheng introduced him as a visiting friend. People would ask him all sorts of questions about his visit and his family that he didn’t quite know how to answer, still reeling from Jiang Cheng calling him his friend. It was just easier than to explain Jin Zixuan was Jiang Yanli’s fiancé, of course, that was the only reason, but nobody had ever dared to presume they were Jin Zixuan’s friend before and he found it… nice.

Nicer than it should have been, for sure.

Nice enough that Jin Zixuan could tolerate being talked to so casually by merchants and street vendors.

It was fun, anyway, to be given so much food to try out. The candies that Jiang Cheng had mentioned as the goal of their little adventure were probably the most disgustingly sweet thing that Jin Zixuan had ever tasted, and he loved them even if they made his jaw ache. Most of the dishes were pretty nice as well, at least until Jiang Cheng made him taste a very red looking stew.

Jin Zixuan should have guessed, from the way Jiang Cheng and the vendor glanced at each other, from their barely restrained grins, that there was something fishy. But everything so far had tasted so good, and everyone had been so nice, and Jin Zixuan didn’t want to be rude. So he had a mouthful of the stew.

And nearly immediately broke into tears, his lips and tongue burning as if he’d swallowed fire. Jiang Cheng burst out laughing, the horrible little bastard, even though Jin Zixuan was in absolute agony. He’d never tasted anything like that, and he hated the heat clinging to every part of his mouth, refusing to cool down until Jiang Cheng took pity on him and paid for some white rice that surprisingly helped with the burning sensation.

“I trusted you,” Jin Zixuan hissed when the pain receded enough to speak.

“That’s your problem,” Jiang Cheng retorted.

“You! Is this how you treat everyone, or am I just unlucky?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, still grinning at the prank he’d just played, but he didn’t seem triumphant the way, say, Wei Wuxian would have been if he’d managed that.

Then again, Jin Zixuan would never have trusted Wei Wuxian in the first place.

“You’re just too dramatic,” Jiang Cheng accused, more teasing than anything. “Come on, I’ll get you some honey candies, it’ll help you.”

It did help, in fact. And while Jin Zixuan was a little more careful with tasting things after that, Jiang Cheng didn’t try to trick him again. In fact, he even warned him against trying certain dishes, explaining that these too were spicy, even if they didn’t look like it. For some reason, it made Jin Zixuan’s heart beat a little faster each time. He assumed it was the fear of nearly tasting something painful again, and was mildly grateful to Jiang Cheng for protecting him.

All things considered they had a great time in town together. It was probably the best afternoon of Jin Zixuan’s life, and he found himself wishing he could come visit Lotus Piers more often. It wasn’t so bad to spend time with Jiang Cheng, when it was just him.

[indiavolowetrust]

THE OBEY ME BOYS AS YANDERES: GAKUEN EDITION

**thank u @sl33pymimikyu and @thelazystrawberryboi for the ideas! es para todos ustedes

You are accepted into a particularly exclusive, prestigious school. As you are of low class, it is an acceptance based purely on merit. A fact that some of your wealthier classmates use to bully you. Due to your lonely upbringing – your parents and close relatives died when you were young – you find yourself determined to make friends, pass with honors, and prove yourself.

Unfortunately, you just so happen to draw the wrong kind of attention.

Word Count: 3,369

TW: Blood, Violence, Mention of Sexual Harassment, Yandere

PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO / TRIGGERED BY THESE TOPICS. I HAVE TAGGED AND INCLUDED TRIGGER WARNINGS.

BELPHEGOR

You can’t remember the last time you’ve managed to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. Time passes by in a sleep-addled haze, given your penchant for afternoon naps and sleeping in, and each day is a struggle to focus on your classes. Belphie tells you that you should see a professional for your narcolepsy, that he can pay for the best medical treatment, but you won’t hear it. You’re not even sure if it is narcolepsy, considering its strange, sudden onset. You’ve tried time and time again to cure your condition. Pills, alarms, strict sleeping schedules – you’ve tried them all, to no avail.

Thankfully, you have Belphie at your side. At his behest, you’ve taken residence in one of his guest bedrooms for the time being. A precautionary measure to watch your condition. Without his generosity, you’re not sure if you’d have the ability to keep your scholarship.

You struggle to read the textbook in front of you. The words go in and out of focus, making you dizzy, and you grip the edge of the desk to stop yourself from falling over. It only works for so long. One wrong movement, and you feel your body tumble out of the chair and towards the ground.

Much to your surprise, Belphie catches you before you can crash into the floor. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“You shouldn’t be so careless,” Belphie chides, firmly placing you back in your seat. You mumble a quiet thank you, trying to hold him in your wavering vision, but he merely waves off your gesture of gratitude. “Coffee’s by your book. If you want more, just tell me.”

The coffee mug is warm in your hands. Freshly brewed, homemade, and steaming, with the coffee beans roasted to a deep flavor. Belphie insists on making cups of coffee for you day and night, which you greatly appreciate. Honestly, you’re not sure if you would even be able to stay awake without the extra caffeine.

LUCIFER

You’re sure that this is a direct violation of school policy. One involving sexual harassment, specifically. Lucifer, your biology professor, is close enough that you can feel his breath tickling the nape of your neck. His skin radiates warmth, even through the fabric of his dress shirt, and the darkness of the classroom shrouds his expression from you. The result of a random and unexpected blackout during your tutoring session. While the contact isn’t exactly unwelcome – Lucifer is very, very attractive, after all – you’re not certain that you’re comfortable with the current situation. Especially when he hasn’t made any indication of –

“There’s something dirty on your uniform,” your professor says, pulling the aforementioned object off your shoulder. You blink. “I see that blackouts are a bit too nerve-wracking for you.”

Oh.

He sighs. “I thought you heard me tell you that.”

You didn’t, but he could have just repeated himself. It’s not like you don’t have the ability to straighten your uniform. The blackout does have you a little on edge, besides – it would have been better if you had done it yourself.

The conversation for the rest of your tutoring session plays out nearly as you had expected. There is pride in having a perfectly clean, composed school uniform, he states, and it is imperative that all students learn the importance of appearance in the workplace. All impurities must be cleansed. Removed totally from one’s person and the surroundings. That is a major part of the school’s creed, after all. It would do no good not to follow it.

You wish you had listened that day. You wish that you had noticed the hunger in his gaze at the time.

Yet you would only realize the importance in his words months later. Your hands handcuffed to a pipe, the light flickering above in the sterile laboratory, and that hungry gaze branded on Lucifer’s features. The classmate that had dared to kiss and touch you without your permission had been strapped to the table.

You hadn’t bothered to listen to him the first time. If this lecture in biology isn’t enough, Lucifer says, then he’s not sure how else he can explain it to you.

MAMMON

He did give you a chance, he explains. Countless chances. If you had just agreed to be his the first time, you wouldn’t have forced his hand. If you had just allowed him to be greedy with your time, he wouldn’t have had to pay off his hitmen. If you had just given him everything of yourself – your time, your touch, your smile – then he wouldn’t have felt compelled to do what he did. So it is your fault that all your friends are dead, really. It is your fault that you have no one else but him now, if you can even consider it that.

Which you don’t, of course. You had glared at him from the golden bars of your cage as he had gone on and on in his spiel, adjusting your position in your shackles, and then you had spat on him when he dared to come close. While he had effectively monopolized your time, he would never have your heart. He would never truly have all of you, no matter how much he tried. No amount of money could buy it. You had called him a monster, a demon, a complete fucking bastard – anything and everything that you could think of. You had told him that nothing he could do would ever win you over. Your demands on being freed from your prison had fallen on deaf ears.

Even now, with a knife to your throat and his body pressed too close to yours, you don’t regret that decision.

“If I finally stop fucking around and take ya for myself, would ya hate me?” Mammon draws out, testing the blade against the delicate skin of your neck. You force yourself to stay still as blood begins to trail down the edge. “’Course ya would. But I’m nicer than that, so I think I’ll go ahead and explain again. Just for good measure.”

You gasp as you are driven higher up the golden bars of the cage, the cold metal digging uncomfortably into your back. Still, you fail to relent. Your glare is just as intense as ever, focused on Mammon, and Mammon responds in kind. The cocky smile that makes itself known on his features does nothing but irritate you, as is the sickening knowledge that you have little control over the situation. Your escape attempts have only angered Mammon further.

“I’d carve yer tongue out first, ya know,” he reassures you. “I’d carve yer heart out and take it for myself before ya gave it to anyone else. If ya think you can pull a fast one on me – well, ya got another thing comin’.”

LEVIATHAN

Each drop that falls from the shower head is a needle against your back. Piercing, biting, and numbing in the most unpleasant manner possible. Worst of all, it is a sensation that has forced you into a violent awakening, as if your mind had been clouded by some unknown entity. Denial, contradiction, some sort of psychological defense mechanism – regardless of whatever the name is, it is one that has been ripped away from your consciousness. And so you find yourself curling into fetal position on the floor of Levi’s shower, attempting to drive away the thoughts that threaten your already fragile psyche. Needle-like drops bury themselves into your skin, the tiled floor of the Levi’s exorbitant bathroom has rendered your fingers numb, and your wet hair plasters itself against the nape of your neck.

You should have known. Perhaps there was some part of you that was aware of Levi’s atrocities, quietly connecting the murders and disappearances to his obsessive adoration for you. Perhaps some part of you had known all along, and you had chosen to ignore it.

“Do you need help in there?” Levi’s voice calls beyond the door. You flinch. “You didn’t fall or anything, did you?”

Your mouth is dry when you open it to speak. The words are silent.

The cases were too clean to be anything but planned. You’re painfully aware of that now. The fact that they were all romantic rivals of some sort hadn’t been a coincidence. They hadn’t drowned on their own, either. Something had pulled them under, deep into the black waters and underwater caves, and they had little choice but to do so. Nitrogen narcosis and hypoxia could only occur so many times. Someone with a knowledge of the underwater cave systems near your school had known of its dangers and lured the victims there.

Who was more suited to do that than the captain of the swim team? It is an answer that is almost too obvious – as well as one that he had skillfully manipulated to hide himself in plain sight.

A knock at the door. It swings open. You can’t bring yourself to move.

Levi tuts as he gathers you up in a towel, doing his best to pat you dry. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone,” he says, sighing. “Still, if you were too tired to shower without falling over, you should’ve told me. We’re friends, right? You can ask me to do anything.”

You hadn’t asked him to drown every one of his romantic rivals, but you keep that to yourself. Instead, you mumble something that you hope sounds like agreement.

Even as Levi works to dress you in your catatonic state, you think of the last expression you had seen on your date’s face. A mixture of surprise and bewilderment. You had noticed the familiar glove of the hand that had pulled him under, and the revelation had shocked you into complete and utter stillness for a few moments. Then you were desperately swimming upwards, your panic forcing you to use too much of your oxygen. You’re not sure if Levi dragged your date into a false chimney. You’re not even sure how Levi got you out of the water and to his family’s manor.

Regardless, you’ve been unconscious for nearly a day, your date’s body hasn’t resurfaced, and you’re now trapped in the same room as a murderer.

SATAN

While you haven’t sustained a concussion, you’ve awoken with more injuries than you would like. Which is just as well, considering what you’ve been through. One of your many harassers had saw it fit to throw you from a  story balcony – payment for your uppity nature, he had said – and you had been powerless to fend him and his friends off. Your books had gone off the railing first, your papers fluttering to the ground. Next was your bag itself, your pens and pencils, and the calculator you had saved up to buy. You had flinched at the sounds of your belongings cracking and scattering against the concrete below.

And then it was your turn.

You remember screaming. Begging for your life. Despite your pleas – you wouldn’t score as high next time, you hadn’t cheated, this could very well kill you – they had decided to toss you off the balcony.

The crack of your own bones was sickening. You had fractured your femur, broken one of your arms, and earned more than a few lacerations and bruises from the impact – but you had lived. Satan had managed to find you mere seconds after you had fallen, he had explained. A fortunate coincidence. As the heir of a healthcare corporation, it had been no trouble to call an ambulance and have you treated for your injuries. He and his family could waive the fees for your treatment, of course. It was the least he could do as a friend.

Yet you have a nagging feeling that something is wrong. Something off about his story. You were dragged out of your dorm at night and taken to a secluded part of campus that night, you remember. How had he known you would be there? How had he found you in such a short amount of time? And the perpetrators had mentioned something about being paid off, too. If you didn’t know any better, then you would think that –

The door to your hospital room slides open.

“How are you feeling?” Satan asks, a worried expression on his face. He crosses the room with quick, long strides and places a tray of food by your bed. Curried vegetables, white rice, and a hot cup of tea. “I know it’s not the best, but I hope it’s to your liking. I had you put in a more private wing, too – I figured you’d want some space.”

He shouldn’t feel obligated to apologize for hospital food of all things, you tell him. A pang of guilt strikes you. How could you think so badly of one of your only friends? You’re grateful that he was there.

Satan smiles. “Well, that’s good to hear,” he says. “My family owns this hospital, so feel free to stay here for as long as you like. I’ll inform the school later.”

You offer him a grateful smile, thanking him. He responds in kind.

Why would Satan pay someone to throw you off a balcony? The idea itself is completely ridiculous. Maybe you should get yourself checked for a concussion. Satan – your bookish, glasses-wearing, and studious friend – is about as dangerous as a newborn kitten.

ASMODEUS

It was, admittedly, a slow process. Anyone that had ever dared to harass and bully you had disappeared for a variety of reasons. Inexplicable ailments that sent them to the hospital. Drug overdoses that turned out to be fatal. Air embolisms for a variety of reasons, despite the youth and health of the victim. Calling cards that sent them to schools overseas. Freak accidents regarding pharmaceuticals. Mix-ups in medication.

Yet you ignored the strange occurrences. You sorely regret that decision.

Asmodeus twirls a ring of keys on one of his fingers, offering you that familiar, teasing wink. Given that you’ve been locked in this lavish room for days, however, it has an entirely new meaning now. He steps towards you with deliberation, his heeled boots clicking lightly against the marble floor, and you swallow audibly. He’s trying to intimidate you. He’s only trying to scare you. Asmodeus hasn’t raised a finger to you once since your capture, so you can at least have faith in that. Other than the drugged tea he had given you – a measure to render you unconscious and drag you in here – he hasn’t done anything else untoward.

“You’re really cute, you know,” he teases. “All that planning and scheming and plotting. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I thought you knew me better than that.”

You won’t say anything to anyone, you tell him. If he lets you out of here, you won’t tell anyone what he did. It would be disastrous if his family were to find out that he was using their pharmaceutical company for such purposes, wouldn’t it? While you don’t understand why he’s killed so many people, you promise you’ll –

Asmodeus stops for a moment, thinking. The keys are just an arm’s reach away. If you can just bolt off the bed fast enough and knock him out, you’ll have them. You’re fairly sure that you can overpower your waifish former friend.

“Really?” Asmodeus pouts. “You promise?”

You promise. You open your arms to give him a hug, urging him closer. You two are friends, right?

A moment passes. The tension between the both of you is thick and palpable, as is the silence.

And then Asmodeus is flying into your arms. You find yourself relaxing for a brief second as he sinks into your embrace, holding you close in that familiar way, and you let your guard down. This is the person who so valiantly defended you from harassment during the first few weeks in school. This is the person that helped you clean up your locker after class, emptied the tacks out of your shoes, and wiped off the derogatory scribbles on your desk. This is the person that had bothered to introduce himself on the first day of school, regardless of your status. If this hadn’t happened – if he hadn’t drugged and imprisoned you here – you would have considered him an infallible friend. Now, if you could just shove him to the –

Pain shoots from your shoulder. You turn to see a bright syringe sinking into the skin of your shoulder, the liquid forcing its way into your body. Asmodeus offers you a smile as you sink to the floor. Cradles you as your body goes slack. You mouth wordless questions at him.

“You idiot. You didn’t think I was that dumb, did you?” Asmodeus draws the now empty syringe from your shoulder. He sighs. “I thought you’d have figured it out by now, but I guess you’re still as dense as ever. Guess you’ll need some more reinforcement.”

Your vision blurs. A lock of hair is brushed away from your face and tucked behind your ear. Your limbs are unbearably heavy, your body refusing to listen to you, and your eyelids follow suit.

“It’s okay, though,” he reassures you, placing a quick kiss against your forehead. “Even if your mind breaks, I’ll still love you.”

BEELZEBUB

Despite being on the way to inherit a number of high-class restaurants, you often find Beel doing menial work in the kitchen. It was a sight that had caught you off-guard the first day of your part-time job – one that you haven’t gotten quite used to, actually. Beel explains that it’s best for him to know every aspect of the food and customer service industry, that it takes a load off the other employees, but you don’t quite believe that. You’re pretty sure he’s just there to snack on bread sticks and extra food. Most of the time, anyway.

Still, you can’t deny that he’s exceptionally good at cooking dishes made of ground meat. It becomes tradition to make you dinner after seeing you working in one of his father’s restaurants, which you gladly welcome.

And so you are treated to pub burgers topped with blue cheese and arugula. Spaghetti with wine-infused meatballs and freshly shredded parmesan. Baked mac and cheese filled with ground meat, five cheeses, and cream sourced from a local dairy farm. Shepherd’s pie with perfectly piped mashed potatoes on top. Wild mushroom soup with buttered, crusty bread. Stuffed zucchini drizzled with olive oil. After a long day of both school and part-time work, you gladly clear your plate each and every time.

You watch a news segment on your phone over dinner one evening. A newscaster prattles on about missing students in the area, some of their names seeming vaguely familiar, and you find yourself staring at their photos. While they are suspected to be murdered, it appears that the bodies are nowhere to be found. The killer must have some way of disposing most of the body parts, if not all of them. Anyone with information is welcome to –

Beel reaches over and turns off your phone for you, much to your surprise. There is a strangely serious expression on his face as he informs you that it’s rude to have your phone out at dinner – especially when he’s gone through the trouble of frying up croquettes. A hot plate of freshly fried, meat-stuffed croquettes is placed in front of you, and your thoughts about the strange news segment are immediately dismissed.

Halfway through dinner and with most of the croquettes devoured between the both of you, it occurs to you that you’ve never asked what kind of meat you’ve been eating.

[soukokuwu]

can i get uhhhh university au with dazai yeah okay

➥ genre: fluff, university!au

➥ pairing: dazai x reader

➥ synopsis: it’s your final year of university, and the infamous suicidal bastard has just returned.

➥ warning: mentions of suicide — it’s dazai

➥ word count: 2.1k

➥ a/n: sorry this took a while prod but here’s to me hoping you like this take on a university au ✨ only the second au i’ve done (apart from grim reaper dazai) but i hope it’s okay!!

Take a chance

Mumbles stir in the lecture hall as a tall, lanky man with brown hair and bandaged arms stroll in. You look past your friend’s head to see the infamous male take his time to get seated, far in the back corner away from everyone else. He’s awfully laid back for someone who’s half an hour late for class. But why wouldn’t he be? He’s —

“Dazai Osamu.”

Attendance after being away from school for a few months: taken.

You watch as he leans back in his seat, barely even listening to the lecture. His hands fumble in his awfully dirty brown satchel for something, and seconds later his fingers are thumbing on the pages of a book with a bright red cover.

The Complete Guide to Suicide.

What a name for a book. Not that you‘re surprised. Is that where he got the inspiration for his suicide attempt? That is what he is famous for. His failed suicide attempt a few months back. It got the whole school in an uproar. Nobody even knew what exactly happened, but all that anyone knew was that paramedics were spotted outside his house. And given how he’s always had bandages wrapped around nearly his entire body, everyone just assumed it was self-harm.

You never understood why nearly every girl swooned over him when he said the same thing to each one of them. That Dazai was always basking in the limelight, always sat in the most visible part of the room. That Dazai never caught your attention.

But this Dazai does. And as his gaze shifts from his book to you; you know in that moment — you catch his too.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Attraction is a weird thing.

You spend the next few weeks simply observing him whenever he’s near. It’s intriguing — he’s intriguing. His change in behaviour, especially, is what piqued your interest. Why would an infamous casanova, who was already suicidal before, tone down his behaviour after an actual attempt? Is it enlightenment?

“Do you want to tell me what’s on your mind or should I coax it out of you?”

The smooth, velvety voice floats to your ears, startling you. You didn’t realise you had been staring in his direction for far too long. You gulp, looking around you. Anything sounds loud in the deathly silence of the library.

Dazai sits himself next to you and his eyes gloss over the book nestled between your palms. “Do you have an interest in photography?” he asks as he swiftly grabs the book from your hands and scans the pages. It’s a beginner’s guide to photography; you’d been meaning to try — that’s why you joined the photography club even though it’s your senior year.

“What does it matter to you?” you whisper back, shooting him a glare and attempting to get your book back. Dazai pulls it further away from you though, and he seems amused by your puzzled reaction.

That day he spends pestering you about what you like — for what reason, you have no idea. But you are flattered, somehow, and you entertain him. You don’t push it though, you don’t ask him what you’ve always been asking in your mind. It’s a touchy subject, and he’s surely aware of your curiosity, but even so you don’t say a thing.

It is the least you can do — to see Dazai for who he is, instead of what he’s done. Surely he’s gotten bored of that already.

And that is why Dazai stays with you for the rest of the day. You are vastly different than the others, and he hasn’t figured out why, but he figures it’s at least worth it to try.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A photograph can capture powerful things, but there’s something it can never picture.

Click.

Dazai Osamu looks beautiful in picture, but the things he makes you feel — that’s the real treasure you hold dear, the thing that a photo can never capture. No, he isn’t your boyfriend — could you even call him your friend? You know next to nothing personal about him. Yet.

There are days when he’d sit next to you in lectures, much to the surprise of everyone else. Your friends knew to leave you two be — Dazai isn’t awfully friendly with anyone else. In fact, he rarely even spoke to anyone apart from you. It isn’t nearly as special as everyone makes it out to be though, they don’t know that your conversations mainly centre around the unimportant small talks. It isn’t anything lovey-dovey — and why did your heart sink a little thinking of that?

Other days you barely speak; just two acquaintances passing by each other in the hallways in exchanged silence. Those days you find yourself wanting to reach out — but there’s an unspoken fear that stops you.

“Hey, quit dreaming, my belladonna,” Dazai hums, smirking once he sees he’s caught your attention.

“Who’re you calling yours?” you snap back, positioning your right eye behind the camera lens and another ‘click!’ sounds in the empty classroom.

As you continue taking photographs of your muse, you can’t help but notice the way the bandages are wrapped around his arms more sloppily today than they were usually. You swallow the lump in your throat as the lens zoom in on his wrist, a seemingly fresh scar visible between the gaps in the bandages. You shift the focus onto his neck this time, and you see another scar there. You try not to make it too obvious that you are hovering the focus on them, but he knows anyway. Dazai always knows.

Click.

And then you have a realisation. As you straighten your posture and look up at him properly, your heart leaps when you catch that smile on his face. It isn’t a normal typical, happy smile. It’s much sadder, much... hollower than that. It’s nothing sinister, just helpless in a way. You’ve seen sad smiles before, but none quite as meaningful as his.

“You wanted me to see?” you ask, despite every muscle in your mouth begging you not to.

Neither you nor Dazai liked to get attached to anyone, but you’re about to make the both of you cross that line. Dazai knows that. And he lets you continue anyway. In fact, he dares you.

“Ask me.”

Do you dare?

“Why—” you bite your tongue, but then you peer at his inviting eyes, and feel a little more encouraged. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” His voice isn’t teasing, he isn’t trying to toy with you. Dazai knows there is a lot you wish to know about him, and he’s curious to know what’s been hanging on your mind the most.

It’s the same as everyone else’s answer, although when it comes from you, Dazai is most likely to see through how genuine it is. You don’t ask from mere nosiness. You care. And so he tells you while you continue to photograph him — everything that built up to that moment he used a razor to draw a deep vertical gash up his forearm, everything that contributed to that decision, that cry of defeat.

You try not to cry from just hearing his story, you didn’t want him to feel that you pitied him. Although maybe a part of you did, after all, why else would you crying then? But Dazai sees the way your fingers tremble, the camera following with.

“I can stop,” he offers. But you instantly shake your head. You want to hear about him, you want him to be able to tell his story to at least someone, even if it’s someone like you — someone who can barely do a thing.

But you can’t be more wrong, and you don’t realise it yet. Because you’re the first person he chooses to let in, and is reciprocating well, accepting him for who he is — someone beyond the scars, although they seem to be the main focus of your project. But he smiles as he sees you write up the title for it at the end of the day.

The things that make you beautiful.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They say it’s possible to miss a moment while you’re still living it — that it’s bittersweet. And they were right. That’s how you felt after that day, in the empty classroom with him, about your entire senior year.

“When the school year ends I’m going abroad, there are some things I need to deal with.”

His words echo in your mind on a loop. Dazai didn’t have to explain anything further, you understood perfectly. The gentle tone of suppressed sadness you can never forget. He’s trying not to sound it, but you can still tell that whatever’s hurt him still does. That, though, he doesn’t hide from you.

The final school year goes without a hitch — your grades are up, a considerable thanks to Dazai for teaching you nearly everything. He’s highly intelligent for someone who looks like they put nearly no effort into school. He knows even about subjects that he doesn’t take.

Dazai is probably the only reason why your senior year goes better than you expected it to. Your photography project ended up beautiful. There isn’t a thing about Dazai in your pictures that is out of place. The lighting, the shot, the composition — you were satisfied with it all. But you never turned it in. You chose to hand in another less significant project.

Some things you just have to keep them close in your heart; some things are better kept private, intimate.

Some moments make you feel like time is at a standstill — for you, they‘re usually the ones that you treasure most. Like the way his arms casually brush against yours as the two of you walk out of school together, the way he puts his arm around your shoulders when you bug him for a picture together, or even the way he accidentally falls asleep on your shoulder on the bus ride home. It’s these small things that tug on your heartstrings.

But time waits for no one. And graduation day came faster than you expected. Dazai is missing that day, and you find yourself anxious. Did he do something to himself? Or did something happen to him along the way? You find out he never opted to participate in the ceremony at all though, through your friends no less. Why didn’t he tell you?

You can’t manage to stop fidgeting as you wait in line to receive your degree on stage. It’s obvious to everyone but you — and then you get a text.

Stop being so nervous, belladonna, you look gorgeous today.

You try to look around for him in the crowd, but everyone looks like minuscule dots on a canvas; you can’t see clearly.

I’ll meet you after it ends, I’m so proud of you.

And he does. He walks towards you with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, but you just charge toward him and throw your arms around him, with Dazai twirling you on the spot once you do. You feel like you can’t be any happier until your eyes catch the suitcase he’s trudged along beside him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It takes absence to value presence.

That’s how you’ll feel after he enters through those doors to the departure area, you’re sure of it. That’s why you’re sheepishly holding on to his sleeve like a child. A silent question you pose to him: do you really have to go?

And the answer lay in his apologetic smile.

“I planned on leaving while you were at the graduation ceremony, but I pushed my flight back.”

You furrow your brows as you meet his gaze. It takes you back to the first time he laid eyes on you from across the lecture hall.

“Why?”

“I wanted to see my beautiful belladonna graduate,” Dazai replies coolly, tousling your hair gently. But you both know there’s more to it than that. There’s one other thing, one other reason he wanted to leave while you were occupied: Dazai Osamu is horrible at goodbyes. It’s why he tried to kill himself only when his roommates weren’t home too. And yet he’s willing to try for you.

This is one moment you wish would last forever. You didn’t want to have to say goodbye. Is this farewell? Would you ever see him again? You didn’t even dare to ask, you’re too afraid of the answer.

But you find the answer as he turns to head for the gate. The way he lightly presses a kiss on the top of your head, the way his heart pounds erratically against your chest as he hugs you goodbye, the way he doesn’t tell you a sayonara, and in the way only Dazai knows how.

There are many things that are left unspoken between you and Dazai. And as you wave goodbye and watch him disappear in the crowd, you have the utmost confidence that one day the fog will clear and everything will fall into place, that your one day of clarity will come.

And that one day you will meet Dazai Osamu once again.

tags: @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes

[straymackerel]

Headcanons for dazai, chuuya and fukuzawa (and maybe if you want too and have time mori too) with a s/o who often forgets to drink and eat over the day? Stay healthy and i hope you are doing good :)

➽─{hiii lovely i’m trying my best to stay healthy and hope everyone else is too! thank u bbg}─❥

dazai osamu

• ok but he also forgets to eat and drink all the time

• he’s a stinky boy with matted hair and a suicide wish, not exactly the epitome of self care

• oddly enough, the two of you manage to bond over your flaws, though dazai is much worse than you

• sometimes one of you will crawl into bed and both your stomachs will go brrrrr, so expect lots of late night snacks when you’re with him.

• insomnia cookies, midnight pub crawls, 4 am pizza delivery, you name it

• if anyone’s pulling your collective shit together, it’s gonna have to be you, because dazai doesn’t really care about his own wellbeing 😅😅

• but once he realizes that you’re affected by his tendencies too, he’ll start to take initiative. he genuinely wishes health and happiness for his raison d'etre

• the only kinda food he knows how to make is breakfast food, so expect steamed rice and miso soup and pan fried fish in your near future.

• it might turn out a little burnt the first few times but you know what? it’s the thought that counts

• he’ll swing by and bring bento boxes to your school/work on his lunch break

• when he slacks off at work he might give you a phone call just to tell you you’re the best lover he could ask for… and also to drink some water

• he might finally start bringing a water bottle to the detective agency, to which his coworkers ask him if he’s ok and if he hit his head or something

• if helping himself = helping you, then fuck it, he’ll do it

nakahara chuuya

• chuuya keeps his fridge well-stocked and he straight up tells you to take advantage of it

• and oh my, his pantry––it’s loaded. if it weren’t for your forgetful ways, you would never go hungry

• when he learns of your self-neglect, he makes sure your favorite foods are always available; that way, you have extra incentive to eat

• he brings this beautiful tall glass pitcher full of water to your room every morning for easy access...

• …but he also thinks wine counts as hydration, so that’s a little problematic.

• on nights when he can’t come home, he’ll ring you asap and make sure you get dinner

• he’s a pretty good chef when he has the time, so his home-cooked meals are top-notch (but it’s on a rare occasion)

• chuuya wouldn’t think twice about hiring a personal chef for you, one who can make all sorts of delicious japanese and international food cause he’s fancy like that

• he schemes with the chef to make sure you’re getting proper nutrition in proper portions at proper times, which is pretty nice cause you won’t have to figure it out yourself

• chuuya is lowkey a little jealous of you because he’d love to kick back at home, eat amazing food, and down it with alcohol water more often

• and on his few days off he’ll do just that, relaxing with you in his arms in the meanwhile

fukuzawa yukichi

• initially assumes you’re at least capable of eating and drinking every day

• genuinely befuddled when he realizes people like you exist

• he finds it extremely confusing––how does one neglect their basic human functions..?

• he is surrounded by a great deal of hungry hungry orphan kids after all, making you an anomaly

• fukuzawa is firm on the matter: “three meals and three liters of water a day. no excuses, we’re gonna get to the bottom of this.”

• takes a pragmatic approach to all of this, even consulting yosano for help

• he has yosano lecture you on the importance of eating/drinking properly, warning of malnutrition and exhaustion

• will install a telecare system in your home, the kind that prompts you to eat if you’re absent from the kitchen for hours on end

• the president of the ada may be busy catching criminals every day, but he’s never too busy to pack you a healthy lunch

• (he learned how to cook when he was raising ranpo up; he’s pretty fast at it now, especially anything that requires some kinda slicing and dicing)

• he’d secretly love to spoon-feed you, so pleaaaase let him if he ever lets that slip 🥺❤️

mori ougai

• he doesn’t say anything when he first notices, opting to simply observe you

• this guy, this absolute bastard... when he notices a potential weakness his first instinct is to see how to exploit it

• he wonders if it’s easier manipulate and take advantage of you when you’re in a hungry, physically weakened state. he might test out a theory or two without you realizing

• whether you forget to eat/drink because you’re stressed, busy, bad at managing time, careless, or just not equipped with a substantial appetite, he figures out the underlying reason of your absentmindedness

• he’ll help you out after some time, but expect him to periodically withdraw his support to remind you of his influence over you.

• mori will go to mafia hq, find the first culinary school dropout he has under his thumb, and say “you! yes, you. you work for my darling now.”

• the poor recruit is threatened with the penalty of death if he doesn’t do his new job right

• mori doesn’t comment on your condition much, but elise will find a way to tease you over it

• ex. if you get in a fight over mori’s attention, she’ll yell at you to “leave us be!!! just go drink some water or something!!!’

• generally, you’ll be well taken care of. just don’t forget that the snake has fangs.

--

sources

link i

link ii

[icanshouyoutheworld]

Bakugou x fem!reader // ch.1

This is a style of fanfic I'm experimenting with - please let me know if you want more! Also, my inbox is open for haikyuu and bhna requests!

It’s been years since you’ve seen either Bakugou or Midoriya. You can’t help but think of them now, as you pedal down the street towards U.A. It’s your first day of school, having gotten in through recommendation, and a roiling mix of excitement and nerves rolls through your stomach.

You bet Bakugou will be there. At U.A, you mean. Back when you were all kids it’s all he went on about, wanting to be a hero, wanting to be the next All Might. Which, really, would have been all well and good if he wasn’t such a bastard to everyone he met. To Midoriya, in particular. You can clearly remember, even now, the way he’d kept himself on a pedestal above Midoriya at all times. Never taking an offered hand, never stopping to consider the weight of his actions and the damage they left behind.

You’d lost contact with the both of them during middle school after having moved away. It was only to the next city over, but it was far enough that you’d had to go to a different middle school. At first you’d kept contact with the both of them, willingly with Midoriya and grudgingly with Bakugou. You’d tried to put the two of them in a group chat with you but Bakugou wouldn’t have it and left immediately. Not long after that, you completely lost contact with him.

You always wondered how he was doing, but you weren’t sure if it was out of nostalgia for times-gone-by or genuine concern. Either way, Midoriya hadn’t ever really said more than the standard kacchan is doing just fine!! and not long after that you lost contact with him, too. You later heard from a friend who knew people at their middle school that Bakugou had broken Midoriya’s phone and, though you didn’t believe that the boy who kept a note of everything hadn’t thought to take a note of your phone number, you didn’t push it and eventually let it go.

That’s just how life goes really, people come and go.

Until now anyways. 

You’re almost certain that Bakugou is somewhere beyond the giant, gleaming doors to the entrance of U.A.

You release a slow breath; nervous but unable to fight the wide smile.

You’re finally here, afterall. After dreaming about U.A for so many years, dreaming of entering the hero course, you were finally about to live the reality.

By the time you’ve made it to the sliding door of 1-A your heart is thudding in your chest. From the stairs or from the apprehension? You don’t really know. You’re not sure you care, either. The elation of actually being here trumps everything else.

“I can do this,” you murmur under your breath. You place a hand over your chest, above your heart, feeling it pound and channelling that fear into excitement. I’ve got this, you think. I can do this.

You curl your fingers into the handle and slide the door open.

Bakugou is there. You were right. 

But thinking he was going to be there is one thing, actually seeing him is something else entirely.

He looks exactly how you remember him. Older, sure, but he’s exactly the same.

Your stomach bottoms out, your throat goes dry. You don’t know what to think, what to feel. You know you should be pissed off. Pissed off for how he treated Midoriya over the years, pissed off for how he refused to keep in contact with you. 

But you aren’t. If anything, you’re a little taken off-guard by how good-looking he is.

As soon as the thought registers in your mind, Bakugou’s eyes meet yours. 

They’re a burning red, and the intensity of his stare startles you for a second. A tall boy with glasses is lecturing him, clearly unperturbed by the fact that Bakugou is no longer paying him any attention and continuing to rant about Bakugou’s obviously-unchanged bad attitude.

Bakugo is sitting leaned back in his seat, his right leg thrown haphazardly up onto his desk, his hands stuffed low in his trouser pockets. He isn’t wearing a tie, his shirt is untucked and unbuttoned at the top, looking the absolute picture of disobedience. 

Though, you can’t help the way that your eyes are drawn to the rounded points of his collarbones that are framed in the V of his open collar. 

Bakugou still hasn’t spoken, neither have you. The students in the room continue talking, the world continues spinning, but you and Bakugou are frozen. 

He slowly lowers his leg off the table, leans forwards and opens his mouth as though to say something but is immediately cut off.

“y/n?” A voice says behind you. You jolt in surprise, not having expected anyone to come up behind you, and the voice immediately registers. It’s deeper than you remember, but there’s no mistaking it.

“Midoriya?” You say, with all the incredulity you were trying desperately not to show. You definitely hadn’t expected Midoriya to be here. He didn’t even have a quirk! Unless… unless, he’d lied to you? But… No. Midoriya wouldn’t lie to you like that, would he?

“Deku?” Clearly you weren’t the only one in shock. “How the fuck did you get in?” Katsuki yells, his voice as gruff as it is in your memories of him. 

“I-” Midoriya starts. Bakugou’s desk squeals across the floor as he stomps to his feet and shoves it away in a burst of power. Whatever haze of surprise had come over his face when he saw you was long-gone now, replaced by blazing fury and gritted teeth. The skin between his eyebrows pinches as he furrows them in anger. Midoriya squeaks as Bakugou grabs him by the front of his shirt. 

“You don’t even have a fucking quirk, stupid Deku!” Bakugou growls.

“Y-yes, I do!” Midoriya shouts back, standing his ground despite the tremor in his hands and unsteadiness of his voice. “You saw it!”

“You-”

“I earned this!” Midoriya continues, cutting Bakugou off. “I can become a hero!”

Bakugou sucks in a sharp breath, up close you don’t miss the flash of hurt across his face. He feels betrayed, you realise. The same as you do. You don’t hate Midoriya for it, you don’t even know what his quirk is. Maybe it just materialised late? But you can’t shake the uneasiness lodged in your gut. 

“I see you haven’t changed one bit?” You snap at Bakugou, sucking your teeth with a sharp tut and yanking Bakugou’s arm from Midoriya’s uniform. 

“What’s it to you, y/n?” Bakugou says sharply, shoving Midoriya away with a deft movement just to show he can. Midoriya stumbles back into the corridor for a moment, before righting himself and sheepishly fixing his clothing. 

“Ah, right. So you do remember me, then? I was beginning to think you’d forgotten.” You cross your arms over your chest and glare at Bakugou. Though, on the other side of the corridor sunlight is catching the swirling motes of dust, making them glitter the sort of gold that seems to set them on fire. Bakugou’s hair is caught in the light, in the gold, fly-away strands of his already unruly spikes glowing with it. It’s distracting, for a second you half-forget you’re meant to be angry.

“Ah! You got in! I knew you would!” A girl has come up behind them, her bag bouncing against her back as she jumps up and down, cheering for Midoriya. As frustrated as you are with him, you’re glad at least Midoriya seems to have made a decent friend. 

With a loud huff, Bakugou turns away. He shoulder barges you, very obviously on purpose as he returns back to his seat but you don’t give him the satisfaction of stumbling to the side. He’ll need to try harder than that if he wants to get you off-balance. You’re nothing like the girl he treated like an underling when you were kids. Given the right opportunity, you were more than confident that you could kick his ass, knock him down a peg. God knows he needs it.

“This isn’t a place for socialising,” another voice drones from behind you and, really, you need to stop letting people creep up on you like this. First Midoriya, then his friend, and now… Ah. The teacher. Well. You can’t really fight with that. 

Although, teacher may be a stretch. You recognise Aizawa immediately, even through the mess of black hair covering his face in mussed clumps from where he lays on his side in a bright yellow sleeping bag. He looks like some sort of overgrown larvae. 

“This is the hero course,” he says flatly, pointedly sucking a pouch of juice empty for emphasis. “It’s taken you far too long to quiet down.” He slowly peels himself out of the sleeping bag and gets to his feet. “Time’s precious, you lot are wasting it.”

Aizawa pins you with a dry look and you hurry to take a seat. Which unfortunately turns out to be the one right behind Bakugou. All of the other’s are taken, though. Midoriya and his friend had rushed for a seat at the same time, and managed, somehow, to seat themselves before you.

Bakugou’s eyes follow you as you walk around him to your desk. His lips are pursed in a scowl, his nostrils flaring slightly as though he’s restraining himself from something. His shoulders bunch tensely as I sit behind him. 

“I’m your homeroom teacher,” Aizawa continues. “It’s nice to meet you. Now, put your gym clothes on and head to the grounds.”

Bakugou’s back jolts with a scoff you don’t hear.

Then, he turns his head. His profile catches in the light, catches the red of his eyes, giving them a rich, liquid quality. A shadow accentuates his sharp jawline as he speaks.

“You’re going fucking down,” he threatens, not once breaking eye-contact. 

You stand from your seat and, before you can even question where the confidence has come from, you slap his shoulder as you walk past him.

“You can try.” You wink.

[opalmaplehibiscus]

Leona, this is Romance – Romance, this is Leona

**I’m so sorry it took so long to actually finish this request OTL I really do hope I did it justice since I do happen to like Leona despite him being so petty and jerky**

Leona x Reader HC

·       When Leona sees you the first time, he didn’t think much of you other than some entertaining herbivore. After all, it wasn’t every day for him to see someone without magic get into a magic school, none the less NRC. You not knowing anything about Twisted Wonderland, making it funnier

·       Although he found you fun to watch, as he often gets bored a lot, he wouldn’t get close to you. He didn’t want to get involved with the chaos that occurs around you. All the nosiness and troublesome things you have to deal with? No thank you, I’m already in a relationship called sleep and I have no plans on breaking up with her yet

·       He spends his day like normal, lazing around, taking naps, and skipping classes until his tail gets stepped on. To say that he didn’t appreciate the pain as a way to wake him up was an understatement. Whoever stepped on him was going to die

·       Once his eyes met with yours, he would be surprised and curious how you ended up staying in the school, no less, a student

·       Maybe you were hiding magic or had it sealed? Those could be a probable reasons to have you enrolled. To test his theory out, he comes closer and sniffs you. But nope, he couldn’t smell even a hint of magic from you

·       Once again, his interest in you piqued as he found himself finding a toy to keep him entertained. But first things first, whether you had magic or not, you stepped on his tail. And he can’t let you go just like that

·       He was cracking his knuckles, ready to actually punch you, only to stop when Ruggie starts calling for him

·       He didn’t appreciate Ruggie interrupting, nor having to let you off. As Ruggie was busy nagging at him for skipping his classes, Leona would replay the events that had happen, recalling the scared look you had on your face. It reminded him of a scared, baby herbivore that was about to be eaten. Cute and entertaining to watch

·       As Ruggie and him walked to Leona’s remedial lessons, Leona would be smirking unconsciously causing Ruggie to get the chills and send his condolences to whomever caught Leona’s attention

·       When word of you defeating and saving OB Riddle spreads around campus, Leona knew that he needed to stay low from you. After all, if you were able to take on OB Riddle, you weren’t simple as he had initially thought

·       Careful, careful, Ruggie be careful, would be the words Leona always gave to Ruggie, before sending him off to the next target. It annoyed him how careful he had to be, more than what he had originally thought, but if rumors about you were true, it would mean he would need to be extremely careful

·       You were sharp and clever as it was obviously seen with how you were able to create a plan on spot to take down OB Riddle. And like hell is he letting you ruin his plan

·       When his plans crumble right before his eyes, he wasn’t happy but not surprised that it was you who did it. You were too observant to the point there wasn’t a chance for him to get away with it. Especially if it was true that Ruggie had shown you his unique magic before the plan even started.

·       After obing, he was ready to face the full consequence. Not you interfering, letting not just him but the whole Savanaclaw to play in the magift tournament

·       He initially thought it was going to be out of pity, and like hell was he going to accept that. He may have lost 90% of his pride, but he still has 10% of it left. And yeah, no, he’s not about to get that taken away from him

·       But after hearing how it was for the victims to get their revenge, he couldn’t hold back his laugh. No matter what, in the end you would always find a way to surprise him – something he started seeing as charming and attractive

·       When you got knocked out from Grim’s attack – which was like, really? Really? You can’t even control magic but you still tried doing that? Dumb cat – he was the one to pick you up and bring you to the infirmary as Ace, Deuce, and Jack were panicking over you while lecturing Grim in the same time

·       He will never admit it that he was worried for you at the time. He just felt annoyed and frustrated how the 1st years didn’t even use common sense to take you to the infirmary. Seriously, he swears, every year, the newbies come in with one less braincell than the previous year

·       When you woke up and ask about Savanaclaw, all Leona could was huff at your question, not being able to understand why you cared about his dorm so much. It was as if you actually cared for him and his wellbeing, something he never felt or experienced before in his life

·       When he sees you smile and laugh while watching Cheka fooled around with him, he doesn’t know why, but he starts feeling embarrassed. Annoyed was his usual feeling, but embarrassment? Never heard of it until now. It doesn’t help when his heart starts feeling warm when Cheka went over to you and talked with you with his precious bratty smile

·       During Chapter 3, after hearing that you were kicked out of your own dorm, the unfamiliar feeling of concern enters him, making him feel frustrated and conflicted. He didn’t want to deal with your problem, because…well.. It’s not his problem and it’ll probably be too troublesome. On the other hand… okay, he might’ve developed a soft spot for you, which would probably be the reason why he wants to help you

·       Either way, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what to do so decided to let fate decide the course of things except with a challenge that was obviously suppose to favor him not helping you. Because as always, he doesn’t like to bother himself with troublesome things. Just let him stay lazy, stop bothering him dang it

·       To put it bluntly, he lost. And boy oh boy did he had a hard time sleeping in the same room as you during the next 2 days. He didn’t really notice at first, yet as soon as he caught himself covering you back up with a blanket, he found himself actually mothering you. What the hell

·       It’s just, well, because seeing you sleep while shivering annoyed him. So was removing Grim off your stomach. It looked way to cringy. Yeah. Yeah. That was it. Totally

·       During that time, Ruggie continued to give Leona a knowing look, snickering whenever Leona had his eyes trained on you, though subconsciously.

·       Leona: What’s with that look? Ruggie: Nothing~ Nothing~ shishishi. By the way, aren’t you looking at the freshman too much? *Sound of a glass cup cracking* Leona: You said something? Ruggie: …No

·       When you were able to reveal the weaknesses to Azul’s contract, it reminds him that despite your herbivore-exterior, you still had the mind of a predator. Something he finds himself appreciating

·       One thing led to another, and he finds himself facing off with an OB Azul. Leona questions himself as to why he was there in the first place but when the memory of you threatening him into helping came up, he remembered why. Yes, he also wanted to get rid of the contract he made with Azul and maybe, maybe, egg that octopus-bastard (which he had fun by the way. It was his first time ever seeing Azul desperate and to say he didn’t enjoy it would be lie). Now, he regrets it to a T

·       When you thank him for the help though, Leona brain froze for a second. To be thanked by you, felt weird. For some reason, it made him feel warm – as if everything he had just put up with was worth it. But after feeling a certain someone’s stare, he ended up smirking, saying it was obvious that you should be thanking him

·       Winter break roles in, and he finds himself continuing to think about you. He would chuckle to himself time to time, freaking Farena, Cheka, and Cheka’s mom out as he found it endearing and amusing that you always manage to find a way to either surprise or amuse him

·       All of those feelings disappeared though when he suddenly gets a phone call from Ruggie while he was in a middle of trying to run away from Cheka

·       Dread fills his mind as he watches the whole Magicam live from start to finish. Soon he’s filled with anger, directed towards a certain snake, when he sees you get kicked to the ends of the desert

·       He only gets angrier when he realizes that he can’t come and help you this time. He’s stuck at palace and if he leaves, Cheka would most likely throw a tantrum leading to more headaches

·       He couldn’t understand why in the world you care about others so much. It doesn’t matter whether it was because of your good will or the fact that you simply can’t help it. If it’s going to put your life in danger, why do it from the start? What if you actually get hurt?

·       The more Leona thought about it, the more frustrated he got. He tried to calm himself, reminding himself how you weren’t dumb like most of the freshies but actually smart. You’ll be able to solve this and somehow get of the situation at hand

·       When he came back from break, he didn’t greet you with his signature smirk or his neutral expression. Leona was glaring at you, to the point he could see you shiver from fear. Ruggie was on the side, trying to get him to calm down yet it only annoyed him more. He wanted to at least punch you once for acting like an idiot and getting yourself in danger

·       After 5 minutes, he ended up calming himself and walk towards the dorm, calling you an idiot before he left

·       He wouldn’t talk to you until he was forced to participate in the Fairy Gala. During the time off, he would try to figure out why he was so angry at you. Even he knew that he was behaving strange, but for what reason?

·       You were weak, fragile, and an herbivore. You can’t even use magic. Yet you always manage to surprise him, making school life interesting with your antics. Cause underneath that “weakling” cover, you were observant, clever, intelligent, always looking cute when you were able to discover hint or clue. When you explain how were you able to reach your accurate conclusions, it showed you were a force to be reckoned despite your exterior. And that just made you all more cha- ah

·       Midway through his thoughts, Leona paused as he realized he was complimenting you in his head. His dictionary usually doesn’t have such things like compliments. And all he could think after realizing this was – Oh. Oh…F***

·       During Fairy Gala, he continued to curse Vil in his head for insulting him in front of you. It’s already bad that he got spanked – spanked what the crap. He’s a prince and he was spanked – but to be insulted about walking? And in front of you? This is the worst

·       He could see Ruggie trying to not laugh in the corner of his eyes. And like hell he’ll let the hyena off. Just you wait Ruggie, once this whole thing is over, you’ll regret ever enjoying my pain

·       When he sees you in your Fairy Gala attire, he did his best trying not to blush or saying something nice. It was taking all of his self-control not to take you right there especially when you were looking adorable

·       He enjoyed getting praised by you though, as he saw you turn apple red at his appearance and tell him he looked good despite the ridiculous make up Vil made him put on and the cape that seemed to resemble a blanket (he knows that Crewel and Vil were shading him but he’ll let it go for now since it helped him get to see a side of you he never knew you had)

·       When he was heading back to his spot after walking the run away, he didn’t expect to see you and Ruggie nearly getting caught by the fairies. Panic entered Leona’s head as he realized that the two of you were hit by the sprinkler, washing off the fairy dust

·       Quickly, he grabbed the fairies’ attention, trying to give you both the chance to escape. After all, it would be annoying if the magic stone didn’t make it back to campus and put all his hard work in vain. Does anyone know how painful it was to walk with a vase on your shoulders and head?

·       Once everyone was able to sneak out of the garden, Leona wanted to rip Ruggie a new one for nearly getting caught. But when you praised everyone for doing a good job on making the plan successful, he dropped it as he opted to hear more praises from you

·       As everyone was heading back to their own dorms, Leona walks with you to the hall of mirrors, listening to you as you talked about how you enjoyed attending the gala despite being there only for a day. The way you were speaking with pure joy and bliss, smiling while Grim chirped in here and there made him smirk, but with an edge of softness and endearment though you wouldn’t notice

·       Once the two of you reached the hall of mirrors, right before you enter the mirror Leona suddenly grabs your arm and spun you around

·       You were tense when your eyes met his, feeling overwhelmed from how Leona’s eyes seemed to be glowing with some sort of passion

·       And without hesitation he kisses your lips firmly yet softly for what seemed to be eternity before he lets go of you and heads to his dorm

·       When he sees Ruggie standing in front of the dorm entrance, snickering after seeing the whole thing, Leona scowled

·       Ruggie: Wow, Leona-san. Who would’ve thought that you could blush like that? Shishishi~ Leona: I could make you turn red, but for a whole different reason if you want Ruggie: Kidding, kidding~ Shishishi

·       That night Leona had the best sleep, feeling satisfied and actually…happy for once. He didn’t regret anything one bit. You may be smart, but he was smarter to the point he knew what you were going to do and say

·       All his thoughts were confirmed as he saw you at the entrance of Savanaclaw’s dorm, smirking as you turned towards him with a blush while Grim was growling on the side with Jack, Ace, and Deuce

·       For the first time in his life, he felt happy. And only became happier when you walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek with a muttered “Good morning” before walking with to main campus as the 1st year crew and Grim were screaming “No” in despair

[allidoiswritewritewrite]

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

AN: So... I watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith last night, then immediately got this prompt from writingexercises.co.uk and I figured I would try my hand at it. This is my first fic in YEARS and my first fic ever here, so be kind plz and thank you :)  let me know what you think, or if you think I left anything out of the TW.

Pairing: Assassin!Bucky Barnes x Assassin!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Bucky Barnes had a happy marriage for six years, until they realized they were competing assassins.

TW: Some violence, shooting, mention of guns and a knife

To save his own life, he knew he would have to kill her. 

That much became apparent to him as soon as he realized the woman who took a shot at him on a job that day was his wife of six years. 

He sat on a rooftop, legs dangling over the edge while a cut bled freely from above his left eye brow as the only evidence of the job gone wrong. His hair hung around his face, the sweat beading off his nose as he pondered his options. 

Steve’s voice was droning on in the background, telling him how he told him so, and lecturing him about how could he be so stupid. 

“You were probably just a job to her this entire time, Buck.” 

Bucky didn’t think that could be true. With his eyes shut and his metal fist clenched, he looked down and remembered the night they first met.

Dusk was falling over a sleepy Seattle as Bucky tucked a sheathed knife into the waistband of his jeans, walking into the quiet bar to enjoy a drink. 

As he glanced across the room, he saw her sitting there. Eyes shining in the neon lights hung up behind the bar, smiling to the bartender while she swirled a glass of whiskey around in one hand. 

Her hair was a windswept mess, but her put-together pencil skirt and blazer suggested it was just a long day at the office. 

He felt like he didn’t have any control as he walked over and took the stool next to her. Like a moth to a flame, he was entranced. 

That’s how it all started, six years ago. 

Staying in that bar until the last call, going back to her place and pulling at each other’s clothes as they walked through the door. 

Bucky shook himself out of the memory. That was before he knew everything about her was a lie. Maybe he was just a job to her after all. 

He thought back to the mission the day before when he realized what a disaster his life was. 

Alexander Pierce, class A scumbag and member of the World Security Council, was set to be driving through that desert any minute. 

Bucky’s M82 sat next to him, his music blaring next to him. 

Who would hear it anyways? 

That turned out to be his first mistake. 

How was he supposed to know someone else was trying to take out his mark at the same time and place as him?

Five minutes after he settled in, a bullet hit the sand near him. 

Looking up, he saw a figure aiming an M82 of their own his way.

He grabbed his backup gun, an AK-47, and turned it on them, raining bullets on their sheltered area before running to find cover. 

As bullets chased him through the desert, he looked to the right and saw the SUV carrying his target flying through the hellscape.

He didn’t realize who his would-be killer was until he got back to Seattle, rain pouring down outside as he reviewed the tapes from the day’s failed mission.

When her hair blowing in the wind, lips puckered while she tried to take him out, he knew who she was. 

That’s when he thought: what if I was her target all along?

He blinked away the thought and steeled himself, bidding goodbye to Steve and waved off his offers of help. 

“I’m with you to the end of the line, pal. You say the word and I’ll be there.” 

No, this was something he would have to take care of on his own.

To save your own life, you knew you would have to kill him.

Your marriage was an impulsive one, but everything always felt so right. 

Now, though, as you sat in the quiet hotel bar staring down at the whiskey in your hand, things had never felt more wrong. 

Everything about him had been a lie. 

He was no engineer. Hell, he’d probably just been trying to kill you this entire time. You scolded yourself as you remembered the day you met him.

You had stopped by the bar on a whim. Someone else had taken out your target before you ever had the chance, and you knew you were in for a reaming when you got back to the office. 

That’s how you found yourself sitting at the bar, sipping a whiskey and smiling at a comment the bartender made. 

When a man came over to take the bar stool next to you, you thought it would be accompanied by another pickup line that would send your eyes rolling. 

But instead, a sideways glance had you turning in your seat when you saw his blue eyes shining under the brim of his baseball cap, standing out against the dark strands of hair falling out of it. 

Like a moth to a flame, you were entranced. 

And so, that night led to a whirlwind of two months of dating, an elopement and six happy years of marriage. 

Until you saw him, gun in hand, waiting to take out your target. 

You shook your head and downed the rest of your whiskey, feeling it burn as it slid down your throat. 

The sun shone down on the desert sands as you fanned yourself, waiting in the vacant shed for your target. 

Alexander Pierce, secretary for the World Security Council and a treasonous bastard.

He had been selling defense secrets to the country’s enemies, both foreign and domestic. At least 40 people were thought to be dead because of his actions.

You wouldn’t sleep any less at night for taking him out.

You had been taking shelter in the shed for a couple of hours, gun already set up and a bottle of water sitting next to you while you waited, when you heard someone’s music blaring to the left of you. 

Looking down, you saw him. Broad shoulders stretching out a white t-shirt with sand all over it. Sweat slipping down his arms under the hot sun.

When you saw the metal arm, you knew who it was. 

How could your husband, the love of your life, have betrayed you like this?

What if he was just there to kill you? 

You couldn’t bring yourself to shoot him.You shot around him, got him to run so you could make a getaway. 

Alexander Pierce was long forgotten.

A heavy sigh left your pursed lips as you slid some cash across the bar, stood up and walked out. 

It was time to take care of business.

You noted that his truck was already parked in the driveway when you arrived at your perfectly suburban home, but not a single light shown through the windows into the night sky. 

Opening the glovebox, you pulled out your handgun, flipped off the safety and took a deep breath. 

You held your head high as you walked to the front door, opening it with your gun held out in front of you. You knew he had to have heard you coming. 

It came as no surprise when your gun was knocked out of your hand the second you walked through the door. 

That was all it took to start a tussle through the lower level of your house that left everything in tatters.

The sounds of skin slapping furniture mixed with grunts could’ve sounded erotic if you weren’t battling to the death with your betrothed. 

Your back slammed into the pantry door, his arm pressing into your neck and cutting off your air supply for a moment. Wrapping your arm around his, you were able to get him off you long enough to catch your breath and send a kick to the side of his head.

“Enough with the foreplay, Barnes. Let’s get this show on the road.”

He advanced on you, gun in hand but aimed to try to hit you with it. 

When you ducked, you grabbed his arm and used his momentum to get him to drop the gun. 

His legs swiped yours out from under you, sending you reeling to the ground.

You latched onto his legs to pull him down and stood back up, but he didn’t follow far behind.

A punch that landed on his nose sent him stumbling back, and you pushed him onto the ground with a kick to his chest.

But that sent him just within reach of the gun you lost walking through the door. 

Grabbing his off the ground, you spun around with the gun pointed toward him, his stance a mere five feet away mirroring yours. 

His voice shook while he questioned you.

“Was any of it even true? Or have I just been a job this whole time?” 

You shuddered, the hand holding a gun shaking as you clicked on the safety and lowered it, managing a whispered answer. 

“If you think I could fake how much I love you, go ahead and take the shot Bucky.” 

The seconds passed like minutes. It felt like the silence might swallow you whole, chest heaving while you watched his eyes skim across your face. 

Tears shone in both of your eyes as he lowered his gun and took a step closer to you. 

“I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, doll.”

/ f i n /