#ignore my terrible bathroom please it came with the space

[shabby-alonso]

haven't posted selfies in a million years so have these previously arthur @vangoggles exclusives

[tinydeskwriter]

THE 7 B’s- Part Two

jack harlow x eminem!daughter!reader

word count:1215

warning: Fluff;

A/n: Soooo, this is Part Two you guys have been asking me about, it’s kinda of a fluff filler;

THE 7 B’s- Part Two: Their Little Parasite

Her parents reacted better than she had expected.

They were a little disappointed that she had been so careless and irresponsible, but she was an adult, and despite being the second youngest, Y/n was always the most mature for her age, terribly precocious compared to her sisters, she was financially well established— the only one completely independent of the allowance her father gave them—they would be there for whatever she needed despite the distance—her father spent the weekend trying to convince her to move back to Detroit—.

“You lost weight.” Y/n never heard that phrase being said as an offense until it came out of Jack's lips when they met in the doctor's office waiting room.

She glared at him.

Y/n hadn't been able to keep a lot of things in her stomach—just that morning, she'd thrown up the yogurt and berries she'd had right after waking up, the smoothie her assistant had brought her, not to mention the toast and jam—she was hungry, and to make her day better, she hadn't fitted into her favorite skirt when she went to dress for a meeting—which no longer fit her around the waist—she doesn't need criticism as if she wasn't taking care of herself—or the baby—.

“The baby disapproves of the things I eat, the only thing that seems to sit in my stomach these days has been ice cream.” They hadn't seen each other since she'd flown to Atlanta to break the news to him. Jack called her daily—to the point where she even ignored his calls sometimes—and texted her frequently.

Jack hadn't been able to attend her first appointment due to his schedule, but he had received a long email with all the points that had been discussed, a copy of the sonogram as well as the audio of the baby's heartbeat.

When they spoke later that same day, he got the details… and how Y/n didn't like her doctor “she’s just too… perky, and happy, she smiles way too much, and Gosh… she kept referring to the baby as ‘a beautiful miracle’ and a ‘little tiny blessing’”

Needless to say, Y/n had changed doctors, Dr. Bradshaw had been a recommendation from the wife of an acquaintance of Jack's, and he hoped it would work out, as he had no doubt that Y/n would keep switching doctors until the end of her pregnancy if she found anything about them she didn't like.

Jack pulled his jacket out of the space on the couch he was saving for her.

Y/n sat down next to him muttering a brief 'thank you', and then she caught a whiff of his cologne.

She remembered the scent, it was subtle, expensive and manly and it had made her stomach flutter a little over four months ago when they met but now it made her stomach turn.

“Can you move aside a little, please?” The young woman covered her nose and made a gesture with her hand.

“What is wrong?” Jack asked with furrowed brows, leaning slightly towards her.

Gosh, he's cute. He looked so absolutely divine in a black sweats ensemble, which was completely unfair.

“You smell.” She said in a matter of fact tone, trying to dispel her thoughts regarding the appearance of her baby's father, Y/n she leaned slightly away from him, the scent of his cologne making her nauseous, his face fell and he blushed a little, the woman just shook her head. “You probably smell nice, but right now certain smells are making me…”

And she got up and ran to the bathroom. And there went the lavender and honey ice cream she'd had for lunch.

She was so tired of vomiting all the time. Y/n grabbed the mouthwash from her handbag—a new essential in her life— na rinsed her mouth. She looked at herself in the mirror critically. Where was the damn glow everyone was talking about? She looked tired, she had lost weight, and all her beauty seemed to be evaporating.

Jack's image came to mind. Y/n pulled her hair up in a low bun, and put on some lipstick—and even applied some to her cheekbones to look a little less like a corpse—.

She walked back into the waiting room and found Jack standing there speaking to her new doctor. The man looked clearly nervous, his cheeks red and a bit of perspiration on his temples as he nodded at whatever the younger man was saying as though Jack were a drill sergeant.

Both men turned to look at her and Jack crossed to her.

“Sorry, I’ll stop wearing this cologne.” He told her, rubbing the back of his head.

“No it’s… I’m sorry. It’s happening all the time.” She blushed and shook her head.

He gave her a sympathetic smile. The young parents-to-be went over to the man and Y/n held out her hand.

“Hi, Y/n Scott-Mathers.”

“Frank Bradshaw,” he said, shaking her hand.  His hand was clammy but his eyes were kind. “Let’s see about this baby, shall we?”

She and Jack nodded and followed him into the small room. Dr.Bradshaw gestured to the examination table as he closed the door so she placed her bag down on the counter and took a seat at the edge.

“So how are you feeling lately?” he asked as he washed her hands.

“It still seems a little surreal to me, you know? A little anxious, a bit nervous…” Dr.Bradshaw and Y/n both turned to Jack. The rapper blushed slightly, running a hand through his beard. “You were asking her, weren't you?”

“Well, all feelings are...welcome...it's important to...you know...” Dr. Bradshaw said gesturing vaguely.

“I can't stop vomiting.” Y/n interrupted.

The two men turned to her, remembering why they were there. Jack adopted a concerned dad look, turning his attention to the doctor awaiting an answer.

“It will get better with time, your body is still adjusting to the little alien you have in there.”

“The alien?” Y/n laughed in satisfaction, she was starting to like Dr.Bradshaw.

“Some parents don't react well to the word parasite.” The doctor shrugged.

This time Y/n laughed, throwing her head back while Jack looked at her worriedly.

“I like you Dr. Bradshaw.” The young woman stated. “Parasite is a cute nickname for the baby.” She commented smiling at Jack.

The doctor smiled at her. “Tea is good for nausea, try ginger... mint is good too... you know what? I'll give you a list.”

“Thanks.” Y/n said genuinely grateful. “I have also been losing weight due to vomiting, can this harm the baby?”

“Why don’t you just…” he gestured for her to lie back.

She pulled up her shirt to expose her stomach, and there was a small but definite bump there, Jack couldn't help but stare. A few hours of fun, and they made a new tiny human.

Dr. Bradshaw turned on all the machines and then squirted some of the jelly onto her stomach, the doctor placed the probe on her stomach. Her eyes went to the screen as he moved it around and then all of a sudden, there it is. Their little parasite.

“That’s my…” Jack said, he looked emotional. “We’re really having a baby.”

Damn hormones. Making her cry all the time.

[yunhoez]

Coincide

pairings: timeskip!suna rintaro x f!reader

genre: smut, FLUFF, tiny bit of angst like for 2 seconds, followed by more fluff

warnings: NSFW 18+, swearing, orgasm denial, public sex, breeding, "bunny", not proofread (its 3 am), I think that's it but pls let me know if I missed anything

a/n: this is really self indulgent, I had this thought in the shower and something about my trash ass ex seeing me happy with suna makes my brain go brrrrr. don't worry, I'm working on that in therapy :D anyways this is my first time writing smut, lol bye! hope y'all enjoy!!! <3

There’s no reason to attend a high school reunion with people you never liked nor thought of in years. Meaningless chatter mixed with the stench of beer, while the god awful fluorescent lights sting your eyes didn’t sound appealing to you. Yet here you are, standing against the wall of the poorly decorated banquet hall with a drink you’ve hardly touched. The “Welcome Class of 2017” banner in front of you, reminded you of just how little time has passed since you’ve seen these people. If it were up to you, you would’ve ignored the e-vite and binged a show you’ve seen 100 times already. However, your sweet boyfriend, Suna Rintaro, was so eager to see where you spent your teen years and the people who knew you way before he did. Not that they would have very many stories about you, considering how much you kept to yourself, but that didn’t stop Suna from RSVPing on your behalf.

“I fucking hate you.” you spat, taking a sip of your drink, wincing at the strength.

“I know.” suna smirked, handing you his beer and taking your drink for himself.

The both of you stood close together, watching people fein happiness at the sight of each other. What was the point in attending these events if not to show off how much better you’re doing to people who no longer matter to you, if they ever did that is. Suna nudged you lightly, motioning towards a group of people coming toward the two of you.

“Hey! I didn’t think you’d be here!”

“Yeah! Me neither!” you giggle, shooting a glare towards Suna who’s already grinning at you.

Suna knows you hate small talk, but something about seeing you perk up at the memories you’ve seemingly forgotten made him feel warm inside. Although you never wanted to admit it, you missed the people who made your teen years a little less terrible. Suna wrapped his arms around your waist, settling his chin onto your head, as the two of you listened to your friends reminisce about your antics.

“I’m telling you, this girl was in detention every single day!”

“Don’t act like you weren’t there with me!” you huffed, feeling Suna’s chest rumble with laughter. No one had ever taken much interest in your life, except for Suna. It was safe to say you had no idea how to react to his attentiveness when it came to you. You looked up at him, watching how he was soaking in the memories of you, that he didn’t get to witness. He smiles widely at the thought of you picking at your chicken sandwiches, only for you to eat the bread and call it lunch.

You notice the crinkle in his eyes, as he catches you in photos on the projector screen. You cover your face, a blush creeping onto your cheeks, as everyone awes at their younger selves. Suna grabs hold of your hands and pulls them down from your face, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“You know if I went to your school, I would’ve been afraid of you.”

“Says the one who looks bored out of his mind all the time.” you tease him, your gaze still fixed on the dimly lit screen.

“Guess we’re soulmates then.” he hums into your ear, tightening his grip around your waist.

The night went by smoothly, well as smooth as it can get when you’re surrounded by people who most definitely hated each other. Suna leads you to the bar, ordering a round of shots for the two of you.

“If we’re going to be here, we might as well take advantage of the open bar.” he grins, pouring salt onto your hand and handing you the tiny glass.

“I’m sure that’s the only reason so many people showed up.” you respond, licking the salt and downing the burning liquid. Suna brings a lime wedge to your lips, you suck on it lightly as he watches you intently. He brings it to his own mouth, draining the remainder of the juice before neatly folding it in a napkin.

“So what’s the story with those two over there?” he motions to the couple arguing a few feet from you.

“Them? They always do that, one minute they’re in love and the next they’re having a Twitter war.” you say, signaling the bartender for another round.

“Does that mean we’ll get to read some drama tonight?” Suna perks up, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. You giggle, clinking your glasses together and savoring the tequila running through you quicker than you expected.

“Already feeling it, pretty?”

“Pft. No, I’m just feelin’ fuzzy.”

Suna turns you to face him, his eyes starting to glaze over from the drinks. Everything around you feels hazy, but his touch is amplified as he taps on your lips to open. He wedges the lime into your mouth, gaze fixed on the way you swallow the tart juice and pucker your lips. Placing the fruit in his glass, he attaches his lips to yours, groaning at the mix of your sweetness and the sour taste of citrus. The lingering taste of tequila was replaced with his own, your body getting drunk off of him more so than the alcohol. He places his hand onto the small of your back, pressing you into him and eliminating any space between you two. A firm poke to your thigh was enough for you to have you moan softly into his mouth. He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you two before snapping back onto his lips. He licks them, relishing in the haze of love and need he feels for you.

“Bathroom. Now.” he demands, throwing a wad of cash onto the bar and pulling you with him. A smile plastered on your lips as you follow close behind him, stumbling on your platforms.

The two of you stumble into the men’s bathroom, small giggles falling from your lips as Suna trips over his own foot before locking the door. You lift yourself up onto the counter, feeling the cold tile on your thighs and leaning against the mirror. Suna nudges your legs apart with his thigh, slipping in between them and running his hands up your short dress, peppering kisses along your neck.

“God, I love you.” he mumbles, pulling you closer to him and smashing his lips against yours. Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling at it slightly as he deepens the kiss and moans into your mouth. His grip on your ass tightens, before he makes his way between your legs. He lifts your dress and shoves your panties to the side, staring at the mess he’s caused.

“Always so wet for me, bunny.” he whispers into your core, placing a light kiss onto your clit. You whimper at the minimal contact and he grins, flattening his tongue and licking a stripe between your folds, savoring the taste he could never get enough of. “Fuck..” he moans, the cold metal of his ring clad fingers pumping into you slowly. The sinful moans of his name leave your mouth with no shame, the sound of him devouring you and your screams were sure to be heard from the hallway.

“Rin…” you moan out, your thighs tightening over his head as he continues to suck on your clit.

“You need me, baby?” he asks, looking up at you through his thick lashes. His honey eyes dripped with lust, as he moved his slick covered fingers to rub your clit. The small, tight circles cause your thighs to shake. “Answer me, pretty.”

“R-Rin… need you.” you stutter, feeling the familiar warmth in your stomach building up. You were so close, his fingers entering you once again and curling into your sweet spot. He grins at you, his face wet from your cunt, as he leans to press a kiss to your swollen lips. “Rin! I’m-”

“I know, baby. I got you.” he coos, going in and out of you faster. Just as you were about to reach your high, his fingers slip out of you. A mischievous grin plastered on his face, as he sucks on his fingers. You groan, covering your face and pressing your thighs together. “Ah… Ah…” He pushes your thighs apart with his body, unbuckling his belt and pulling himself out. “Thought you needed me?” He pouts, pumping himself slowly.

“I- Rin. Please, I was so close-” you whine, eyes pressed to his thick cock near your entrance.

“Spit on it.” you obey him, pursuing your lips to let the liquid fall onto his dick. He pumps himself, moaning and grabbing your face with his other hand. “Now tell me, pretty. What do you need?”

“Y-you.” you whisper, looking up at him with wide eyes as you unbutton his shirt. He places a sloppy kiss on your lips, breathing heavily when your cold hands replace his as you jerk him off. “Bend over for me.” His dark eyes watched you scramble off the counter, slipping your panties off and leaning over the sink. Your pretty face in the mirror looking back at him with pleading eyes as he rubs his cock against your cunt. He moans, pushing into you slowly, throwing his head back when he bottoms out. He stills, basking in the warmth of your plush walls.

“Fuck, Rin, move.” you huff, trying to relieve yourself.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the moment?” he responds, gripping onto your hips tightly.

“Yeah, but- Fuck!” you moan at his sharp thrusts, a smile tugging at his lips as he pulls you back and forth on his dick. “Sorry, bunny. Couldn’t wait.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the steady pace of his thrusts driving you close to your peak once again. You reach your hand down to your clit, but Suna slaps your hand away. You look up at him in the mirror, his loving eyes boring into you, as he rubs at your clit in fast circles.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well, baby.” he praises, his head falling back, letting his moans get louder the closer he gets. “Gonna cum in you, fill you up, and make you a pretty mama.”

“Fuck- Suna, don’t- WHAT THE FUCK?” you scream, feeling the fullness of his dick leave your dripping cunt.

“Who the fuck is Suna?” he giggles to himself, his dick grinding in between your folds at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Rin, c’mon- shit!” you bite your lip, your walls clenching around him as he kneads your ass.

“Good girl.” he coos, one hand on your hip and the other pulling your dress down to let your breast fall out. He moans, gripping at the soft flesh. “You gonna let me cum in you, baby?”

“Yes, fuck… don’t stop.” you hum, your brain starting to fog up as you near your release.

“S-shit, ‘M gonna.” he hisses, feeling your walls clench as you ride out your orgasm. Your fucked out expression and loud screams of his name was enough to have him spilling into you. He moans out your name, leaning over you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder, before pulling out and watching him spill out of you.

“You’re lucky I’m on the pill.” you pant, looking up at the mirror to him snapping a photo of the two of you. “Rin!”

“What? It’s a good memory!” he defends, taking several photos from different angles before lifting you up and setting you down on the counter. He shoves himself back into his pants, tucking his shirt and buckling belt before averting his attention to you. Your arms wrap around his neck as he kisses you softly, mumbling sweet words into your lips. He breaks away to dampen a towel, wiping you down as you scroll through the many pictures he took. A loud knock breaks the atmosphere, followed by annoyed screams.

“Have some fucking decency, some people need to use the bathroom!”

You both look at each other, laughing loudly before putting yourselves together. Suna adjusts his shirt, leaving the top buttons open and ruffling his hair. You slip into your underwear, smoothing out your dress and reapplying your lipstick. He gives your ass a light slap before opening the door and exiting, his eyes flicker between the couple outside. Suna’s lips twitch, realizing who the man leaning against the wall is. A smug expression spreads across his face, as he reaches his hand out for you.

“Sorry your sex life’s so boring.” he grins. You grasp his hand, walking out and nodding to the couple, recognizing the familiar set of eyes that you once adored.

“Sorry about that, bathroom's all yours.”

You squeeze Suna’s hand twice, a signal the two of you made up for when you’re feeling anxious. He quickly wraps his arm around your waist, pressing you into his side and placing a soft kiss onto your head. He hums quietly, leading the two of you out of the banquet hall and out to the garden. You stop at a bench, overlooking the city. The soft chirps of crickets and Suna’s intoxicating scent grounds you, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Fuck high school reunions, can’t believe you wanted to come here.” he jokes, pulling you onto his lap and holding you.

“Oh, shut up. You loved every minute of it.” you nuzzled into his chest.

“Particularly the bathroom part.” he hummed. “You okay?”

You sighed happily into his chest, nodding in response.

“So, tell me, what did the side bang do for you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Rintaro.” you hiss, getting up from his grasp, only for him to pull you back and attack your neck with kisses. Your laugh fills his ears, followed by your small fists punching his arm lightly in an attempt to get him to stop tickling you. A blush creeps onto his cheeks, the overwhelming feeling of love feels his body. He pauses his attack, your love laced insults about how irritating he could be was music to his ears. You’d never admit it to Suna, but you were glad he dragged you here. Seeing how his usual deadpan expression changed every time you were talked about made your heart swell. Maybe these things weren’t that bad, as long as he was by your side.

reblogs/likes appreciated <3

[losingherface]

I have the moon

Warnings: Quick ish Smut, 18+

Info : It’s Ellie and readers first night at their new house, that used to be Joel’s.

A/n: srry if it’s terrible, i’ve been busy and just not in the mood to write if i’m being honest but yeahhh also I would love to have requests that obviously fit within the story line because I’m getting a bit dry :))

•

The boxes were full and ready to go. It took about a month to pack up and completely move into Joel’s farmhouse.

It was strange seeing your apartment empty. You had lived here on your own for so many years before Ellie came along. The furniture had changed over the years, and pretty much everything did due to Ellie moving in, having dogs, they suddenly die, having cats, and they suddenly died as well. But this time, it was finally empty, it looked like it did when you had first bought it. It looked like you kept it the same all these years.

You handed the key to your landlord, Britt, she was always fun and kept you company before Ellie, when you were depressed about your job, or anything really. It was hard seeing you go and you felt the same of course. She held you in the tightest hug and it felt like a stab in your heart. But you wanted this, so you weren’t really worried about how you’d feel in a few days.

Ellie waited for you in the car. When you got inside, you immediately noticed the constant smile on her face, she would try hiding it but you could tell, and god that made you feel so good.

It was a long month. From the wedding, to Joel dying, and now this, moving five hours from the city into a rural town where you two would be basically separated from everything, it was a lot. Now you were ready to get to your new home and nap it all off.

•

Jesse, Dina, Tommy, and Maria had all helped move us in throughout the week, and make things comfortable for us. Dina couldn’t get over the countryside and Jesse was irritated by her constantly whining to move closer to us as their baby, JJ, spilled his juice everywhere and made a mess. You were ready for them to leave. Reaching over to pull JJ away, from potentially making another huge mess, Dina calls you to the kitchen.

You were close to losing your temper but instead just ignored it, maybe Ellie will do something.

“Yea?”

“I love these counters, I have a friend if you guys ever need a renovator.” Dina told you as she took out something from the oven, your attention immediately going there.

“Yea I know, What’s that in the oven?”

“My special banana bread, so you can think of me when we leave.”

It was literally all you wanted right now.

“Thanks Dina. I’m going to miss you. And that baby of yours.”

•

As for Ellie, she had been fine, for the most part. She hadn’t completely opened up about how she was feeling but you knew it was passing by. Passing by as in, she was accepting that she’ll never talk to Joel again, not that she’s getting over it and forgetting about him- she’ll never forget him, it was her dad. There was a glow that sat beautifully on her face and it was the same glow she had when you two got married, when you two would be in each other’s presence. It seemed that was her way of telling you but not telling you either that she was content and you loved it.

Your head peaked out of the kitchen once again to look at Ellie, JJ and Jesse in the living room. Ellie had been playing with JJ and you couldn’t help but lose your train of thought. It was so cute when she did that.

•

Dina, Jesse, and JJ were finally leaving. You were going to miss your best friend as she wasn’t just down the street anymore, she was five hours away. Her baby was getting older, and soon it was time she would have to start paying full attention to him so the chances of regular communication were getting lower.

You couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken.

•

After everyone left, you devoured the banana bread with a large cup of milk, leaning over the counter, nitpicking everything in your head about this house.

You remembered Ellie had been setting up her art room, it was a nice size and way better than the balcony at the apartment. You cleaned yourself up and walked to the room.

The door was slightly open and the room had been quiet, only Ellie’s humming being heard.

You knocked on the door.

“Come in.” Ellie said softly and you walked in. Shutting the door behind you, trying to not disturb the peacefulness.

“It’s late, do you want to come to bed?” You asked as you watched her draw yet another portrait of Joel.

She yawned and put down her pencil. She didn’t answer your question and instead walked over to you and hugged your waist while kissing down your soft neck. She pulled away, “Let’s go.” She stretched her long arm out for you as she opened the door, leading you to your new bedroom.

The bedroom was large, with a walk in closet, a bathroom and a beautiful large window that wasn’t covered with curtains for the purpose of the countryside view.

The room was obviously empty only with a bed that had pastel yellow sheets Maria had bought. You sat down on the bed as Ellie followed. She sat and watched you take off your pants leaving you only in your underwear and a slightly large shirt, Ellie had done the same only her top half was completely bare.

•

It was the middle of the night in the new house, the first night you two had slept there. It had a creepy feel to it. It was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the large window you had been facing. From the window where you had been lying down, you got a nice view of the farm and the night sky, and also an occasional few cars that would pass by.

It was so hot that you had been fighting with the blankets all night, whether they should be on or off. Looking over at Ellie, she had seemed to be sleeping like a baby. You continue to look at the window while laying down, eyes wandering all over the place. The time was 2:00 a.m. It was going to be a long night.

Sweat begins forming on your back, causing you to pull your shirt off, now only in your undergarments.

“I’m going to go look for a fan. I think he had one in the attic.” Ellie just randomly blurs out causing you to look at her, startled.

“Please, baby it’s so hot.” You say as you lean over to the small chair beside the bed and grab the water bottle, desperately chugging it again. As you did that, Ellie leaves to look for a fan.

•

What had felt like forever, Ellie finally arrives with a fan. It was a decent size and was perfect. As Ellie plugs it in, you unclip your bra and let all of the cool air hit you before lying back in the bed, covering yourself with the blanket.

You hear Ellie rumbling into bed, a lot closer than before, wrapping her arm around your body, pulling you closer. It felt so nice to have her this close, as she really hadn’t been willing to for a few months. Also with the heat, you’d just hate being that close.

Ellie takes her warm and soft lips, and presses it on your neck. Kissing you up and down, you closed your eyes hoping she wasn’t just giving you a goodnights kiss but wanted more.

You pull your blanket down from your face to show her your exposed breasts, ready to be caressed and sucked on (lmfao idk how else to say it).

She looks at you with a slight smile before kissing your temple. “Please..” You whisper, grabbing her head with both of your hands, she knew exactly what you wanted. You adjusted your position, lying on your back, waiting for Ellie to slip under the sheet.

Ellie and you hadn’t been together like this in a while, considering everything she’s been through and the missed honeymoon. You can see it on Ellie’s face, she felt so good at this moment. Her face was lit up and the light coming from the night sky reflected on her face.

Ellie kissing down your neck, you move your hand over to caress her soft, slightly greasy hair. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you whisper, “I love you.” She breaks the kiss, whispering the same back to you before continuing to kiss, getting lower with each one.

At this point, you both knew exactly where this was going, it was one of Ellie’s favorite ways to make you smile. You spread your legs a bit further, allowing Ellie to have some space. You desperately throw the blanket off of the both of you to be able to see her. Her strong hands hold down both of your legs, her eyes lock with yours as she begins licking you right where you wanted her to. Your eyes begin to look drowsy as Ellie begins to pick up the pace. As you moan loudly, you notice Ellie smiling at you making your sounds every once and a while. Seeing her do that made you want more, you loved seeing her that way. You throw your head back into the fluffy, white pillow, grabbing onto anything that was in your region as Ellie relentlessly pleased you with her wet, warm tongue.

you were a mess and by the time you were able to let it all out over Ellie’s sweaty face, you were covered in your own sweat, sitting up on elbows, looking at Ellie get up and move towards you.

Ellie grabbed the blanket nearby and covered you and herself up. You immediately wrap your body around hers, pressing light kisses to her face.

“I forgot how much I love doing that.” Ellie says as you slowly begin to open your eyes.

You propped your head up on your elbow, leaning into Ellie more, caressing your hard, short nails up and down her back. “It looked like you really needed that.”

“Yeah, I think us moving into this house, and getting to do that, makes me feel better.” Ellie struggled to say but it was genuine and you knew she’d be back on her feet again in about another week.

You didn’t know what to say, Ellie’s smile forming on her face effortlessly put you in awe and it left you there once again, staring at her because sometimes that’s all you could do. She appreciated it either way.

.

A/N: I suck at comforting ppl irl and it rlly shows in these stories, and this took me long cuz I can’t bring myself to write smut correctly so i was a little insecure but whatevererrr

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Things You Said When it was Over

Somewhere else, anger, a truce, and fight, and a happy ending

cw Jon's typical level of wanting to die but not actually wanting to die, fighting, mentions of vomit but no vomit, mentions of stabbing, mentions of stitches, losing time

Spoilers for 200

Let me know if you enjoyed!  Stop back in a week for another fic. I am accepting Things You Said prompt list prompts for Jon, Martin, and/or Tim!  I have two prompts in my inbox and both have been back written, but if you are wondering if I have ignored your prompt, chances are I have not!

Being unwound hurts.  Unwound.  Rewritten.  Removed.  Pulled and crumpled and twisted and extracted.  Spun in with a web of tapes.  

Masses of crinkling magnetic strips.  Unsure where voice, and web, and body, and blood intersect.  

Woven and ripped through that careful crevasse.  

And it hurts.  Much more than being stabbed.  With that awful scratch and skittering of strands being eaten by an eager, hungry machine.  

As time and entities and two people are chewed through and eaten with all the care of a faulty cassette player.  

It’s a shriek of static, the thrumming whine of machinery wound wrong.  The deafening scrabble of unknowable and terrible things going Elsewhere.  Loud enough that the explosion doesn’t even register.  Just a background whine to the overpowering white noise of the end of the world moving.  

And Jon wakes up.  

With a gasp.  Small.  And so painfully normal.  Like his POTS flaring up and waking up in the break room.  Again.  

That hasn’t happened since the world ended.  Since things went wrong.  

A strange thing to reminisce about.  POTS isn’t something he thought he’d miss.  And… well… he doesn’t?  Didn’t?  Doesn’t know the tense to use because there was that slim, slim chance that everything is actually okay.  The smallest, most fragile idea that things are back to that idyllic normal of the safehouse.  

He doesn't move for a while.  Focusing on breathing.  It's cold.  He isn't sure if the air is cold or if he's experiencing cold himself, or if this is just a new way of feeling pain.  He can't tell.  

His chest hurts, but he can't make himself check for blood.  Moving is still a little too beyond him.  

He wants to open his eyes, and look for Martin, but he doesn't want this to go away.  Because if he's alive, then Martin must be too, right?  Martin was much more likely to survive this.  Not being... you know, stabbed?  

But what if only Jon is somewhere else?  What if this is somewhere Martin couldn't follow?

In that case, Jon would rather not be alive at all.  If he doomed all the other universes because he couldn't go through with it in the end... if he gave it all up for Martin... he can't live with that.  He can't.  More than not wanting to, he just... Can't.  

Then again everything is... kind of numb so he can't actually be sure that Martin isn't there... but he is never that lucky.  Jon never gets the privilege of the best case scenario.  

Breathing still hurts.  But he doesn’t think it hurts in the “breathing around a knife” sort of way.  Then again, after bearing witness to the pain of Everyone on the planet, a single wound is hardly a drop in that ocean with all the other pain just Gone.  

“Jon!  Jon!  Can you hear me?”

He cracks his eyes open, and is met with the safe house ceiling.  Eyes struggling to focus, trying to find the source of the voice that certainly sounds like Martin, but Jon is too sore to move.  The force of it hitting him out of nowhere, without him even trying to lift a finger.  Senses filling the void of 7 billion people screaming with the voices of scars and joints and exhaustion and hunger.  

The best response he can manage is a wheezy groan.  

Wheezy?

Does he need his inhaler again?  Did Martin pack that even?  He hasn’t needed it… since… the world ended.  

Everything’s blurry.  Where did his glasses go?  

“Oh thank Christ!”  

Jon makes to sit up, but stars burst in his vision, and his arms give out.  

Martin’s hands fluttering around him.  Flying to his chest.  

Jon carefully reaches for his chest also.  There is a hole in his shirt.  Well.  A lot of holes, but he’s only looking for one.  

He feels tacky blood on its way to drying.  And as he carefully probes further, he finds a tidy line of stitches in slightly sticky thread, that he has a sinking suspicion is spider’s silk.  A final gift.  A thank you.  He wants to vomit.  

But Martin’s hand catches his, stopping him from potentially hurting himself.  Jon stretches his free hand to cup Martin’s cheek.  He finds it wet.  

It occurs to him that Martin has been crying.  Is crying?  Jon can’t tell.  His face is too far away to see more than the fuzzy outline.  (Not that Martin’s face is actually far away, Jon just has shit vision).  

Crying, present tense, Jon assesses, when Martin shakes with a suppressed, silenced sob.  “How could you do that Jon?  Fuck!  I mean… I knew you would.  But how could you do that?  You Lied to me.  You could have Died!  And I know you didn’t.  But Jon, I… I can’t.  You Promised me!  You Promised!  I…  How could you make me do that?  To you?  How could you?  I…  Jon, how could you?”  Martin’s crying too hard to get anything else out, and Jon still hasn’t managed to find enough breath and energy to speak.  

Jon whines.  Too exhausted to even sign.  

Martin’s hand on his chest.  Still trying to keep the blood in, even when there is no blood trying to get out anymore.  Martin’s usually warm hand icy (Jon hopes with fear, and not the Lonely, but he can’t know.  Firstly because he can’t break another promise, Secondly because he doesn’t think he can Know anymore, and thinking about trying makes his stomach drop.)  

And Jon just… can’t.  He rolls on his side away from Martin.  Curling up tightly.  Against the angry words and the guilt, and the rest of the guilt, and the pain in his body.  He’s doomed infinite worlds.  He’s betrayed everyone who ever cared about him… who he ever cared about.  He caused so much pain and he sat back and watched.  It seared through him the entire time of unknown and uncountable quantity that made up the apocalypse.  

All the words that he could never say, the guilt he could never express, all his own fear that had been just as much a meal for his god choking him.  

And he braces for the hate and the rest of the yelling, and everything else he deserves.  Everything he brought upon himself, one poor choice after another.  

Squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself gone and wills that if he doesn’t just vanish out of everything that Martin will get done yelling quick so maybe Jon can grovel some comfort out of him, even if it isn’t forgiveness, it will be better than the aching nothing that has been threatening to overtake him since he tasted the bitter words of the false statement.  

Martin more than deserves his anger, but Jon can’t take it.  He’s literally held together by spider silk.  He’s worn and tired and battered.  Guilt plunging deeper than Martin’s knife ever could.  

Not that he’s not grateful for this time with Martin.  Not that he doesn’t deserve every centimeter of guilt piling up on him.  He deserves all the hate.  And all the anger.  

He’s spineless, and he knows it.  He Almost did the right thing, but he couldn’t.  And he almost lost everything he cares about.  And now he probably still has.  And… and what?  What now?  Martin elected to stay with him despite it all, on one stupid, slim chance that things could be okay, but how can they be okay ever again, with this aching hole of fault and blame and regret and shame pulling at his core.  And he wants to be pulled open and rip it out.  He wants to enjoy what he has, but he can’t and Martin has every reason to hate him.  

He’s lost time.  

Martin’s calling his name, and his limbs are stiff and numb from bracing for an impact that never came.  

“Jon.  Christ.  Jon!  I’m… I… I didn’t mean to scare you.  I… I don’t hate you.  I love you, I promise.  …I’m… angry.  And we need to talk about this.  But… but I think that should wait until you’re up for talking, and I’m up for not crying for ya know, more than five minutes at a time.  ….And Fuck.  I just… well.  You owe me a good screaming at, too.  And Goddamn it, you were just doing what you thought was right… and you tried to tell us… tell me.  I’m not saying you were right, because you weren’t… but I’m not saying you were wrong.  And.  Well.  We’re both here.  Please.  I’m sorry for yelling.  Can I touch you?”

Jon nods jerkily.  Because he can’t stand the distance between them.  He doesn’t care if touch can get him hurt, he’d take hurt over the space between them.  

Martin holds him like he’s precious and Jon cries.  

Harder than he has in a very long time.  

And when he’s done he’s empty and shaking and filthy.  

They shower and sleep.  In the morning they can shout at each other for broken promises and wandering off, and not communicating enough, and not listening when the other is trying to communicate.  And one leaves in a huff, and one cries himself sick in the bathroom, and there is hugging and a trip to town for tea and figuring out if this is the universe they saved or one of the infinite they doomed.  And there are years for the aftershocks of those arguments to bounce around, losing energy in the form of heat: tea, hugs, hot showers, overeager workouts, kisses a little too rough, hugs a little too tight, a strange combination between fierce affection, and things a little too much to make them feel like they are accomplishing something.  

And they can grow whole once more.  

And they can grow old.  

[isthisthingeven0n]

the list : d.d

brief summary: you grew up with david, and he always wanted there to be more than just friendship between you both. however, now adults and david is dating someone else, you coming back into his life causes him to have doubts about what he wants. (1.8k)

requested: yes by the sweetest anon, i hope you like the outcome!  warnings: none that i’m aware of 

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(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” You call out as you gather your things in the kitchen, your back turned to the guys as David sighs quietly to himself.

Ilya can’t help but roll his eyes at David’s lovesick expression that remains plastered across his face whenever you’re around. “Dave,” Ilya slaps his chest, causing David to snap out of his trance.

“No!” David blurts out, and you turn around quickly.

“Okay,” You nervously chuckle, thinking nothing of it as you head towards the front door. “I’ll see you later.”

With that, you close the door behind you, and David groans loudly as he buries his face into his hands whilst Ilya and Zane share a knowing look.

“Dude, you gotta get it together.” Ilya states as David shakes his head in his hands. “It’s only Y/n, we’ve known her since High School.”

“That’s the problem,” David mumbles. “it’s Y/n.”

It was true, David had known you for many years but for at least half of them he was sort of (most definitely) in love with you whilst you remained oblivious to it. He grew up alongside you as you had boyfriends, was the shoulder for you to cry on after a breakup and one of your best friends. Yet, David always wished he could’ve been something more.

There had been moments between you both, flickers of something more than just friendship, but nothing came of them.

Yet, David had moved on and was happy. At least, he thinks he’s happy until you walk into any room he’s in with your bright smile and joyful laughter; before he realises David’s back in High school, pining after his best friend.

“Look, David, you have a girlfriend.” Zane states, knowing Taylor is out of town currently. “You can’t be drooling over Y/n like this.”

“I know, I just,” David sighs as he thinks of you, knowing he should think of Taylor in that way. “whenever she’s around I just forget any other girl exists, and I just want to be with her.”

Ilya rolls his eyes once more. “God you need help.” He mutters as he rises to his feet, clapping his hands together as both David and Zane look up.

“What are you talking about?” Natalie speaks up as she walks through into the open space with Todd by her side.

“About David and Y/n.” Zane motions to David who simply shrugs his shoulders meekly at Natalie’s raised brow.

“She finally tell you then?” Todd smiles brightly, unaware of Natalie’s eyes widening. “Why’re you all looking at me like that?” Todd asks as wide eyes stare at him from across the room. “Oh no.” He mutters.

“Oh no is right.” Natalie remarks.

“Y/n likes David?” Ilya asks, sounding astounded by the idea as he looks over at David and back to Natalie. “You sure?”

Natalie sighs before nodding. “She has for a while now,” Natalie starts, and David falls back down into the sofa, his mind dazing over in shock as Natalie continues. “but then David started dating Taylor, so she felt like her chance was gone.”

“Okay,” Ilya begins pacing around the room. “so, Y/n likes David, David likes Y/n, but David also likes Taylor.”

“Thank you Captain Obvious.” Natalie mutters. “Look, David, you gotta sort this.”

“But how?” David asks weakly as he looks around at his friends before Ilya’s face lights up.

“I’ve got an idea.” Ilya smirks as he rushes out of the room, returning with the portable whiteboard. “We make a pros and cons list.” He suggests, ignoring Natalie shaking her head.

“Ilya, that is a terrible idea.” She tells him, but Ilya chalks it up on the board instead.

“Actually, it might not be that bad.” David comments, now standing up as he approaches the whiteboard and twiddles the pen in his fingertips as he eyes the pros and cons list. “If I can think of more cons, then I’ll know she isn’t right for me and Taylor is.”

“Your logic is so fucked.” Todd looks down to Natalie who remains silent, hoping that something will come of this for everyone’s sake.

*

Exhaling deeply, David stands back as he admires the board completely covered in the pros and cons of possibly dating you. “I never realised there could be so many.” David half laughs, now feeling more conflicted than ever before.

“Yeah, this is way harder than I anticipated.” Ilya comments, resting his hands on his hips. “Anyway, wanna order food?”

David nods as he walks out from the room, going to grab his phone whilst Ilya heads into the bathroom.

Both remain unaware as the front door opens, and you walk in with bags in hand. “God, it was crazy out there.” You huff, placing the bags on the kitchen counter. “Even though you said you didn’t want anything, I got you guys Starbucks!” You call out, picking up your drink as you notice the whiteboard out and covered in writing.

You can’t help but be intrigued by the board, and as you read over it, your heart drops. The board is about you, your pros and cons in David’s eyes.

“Y/n,” Ilya speaks up softly, emerging from the bathroom as he sees you standing there, trying to force back tears in your eyes as you remain still, gaze fixated on the board. “I can explain, we can explain.” Ilya starts, but you hold your hand up, silencing him.

“Ilya, I ordered pizza from-” David’s voice becomes closer until he’s stood metres from you and his smile drops instantly. “Shit.” He mutters. “Y/n, I, you weren’t supposed to see this.”

A light scoff leaves your lips as you step backwards, glaring to David. “Gee, I wonder why.” You retort. “You’re unbelievable David.” Your voice softens as you turn around, grabbing your bags from the counter and leave without saying another word, too afraid of your own voice and what will be said.

“Fuck!” David yells, gripping his hair in his fists as he groans loudly. “How could you do this to me, Ilya?!” David shifts the blame to Ilya who stares, utterly dumbfounded.

“I wasn’t the one who wrote the fucking list, David.” Ilya reminds David. “You gotta talk to her, man.”

“I,” David starts, but Ilya stops him.

“No, I mean right now.” Ilya states firmly, pointing to the front door. “Go, you idiot!”

Without needing to be told a third time, David jogs over to his front door, opening it and thankfully, you’re still loading your shopping back into the car as you wipe your eyes repeatedly.

“What, David? You wanna tell me about my pros and cons?” You speak up, slamming your boot shut as you near your car door.

“No, I, I wanna explain, as it wasn’t fair you saw that. It wasn’t something you should ever have seen really.” David begins to try and explain, but seeing you so upset, it causes his mind to fall apart. “Y/n, I, I know we’ve always been friends, and I’ve always cared about you- which you knew already.”

“Thought I did.” You mumble to yourself, causing your heart to ache even more.

“But I gave up the possibility of us ever being together a while ago, and then I met Taylor.” David tries to sound happy about his relationship, that it’s a good thing that he moved on. “Before I knew it I was swept up in this new relationship, and then you came back from your trip, and my feelings kinda dug themselves back up and you’re all I can think about.” He half laughs, realising how ridiculous it all sounds.

“David, don’t, please.” You tell him, now opening your car door as you lean against it, but David simply steps closer.

“Y/n, I can’t help how I feel about you, and I know you feel the same.” A nervous smile crosses his lips as you stare blankly at him. “Todd told us, and that’s kinda what caused all this. We were trying to figure a way of trying to decide if we should date, and it was so fucking dumb as I already know you, and I know you’re close enough to perfect.” David laughs light-heartedly. “And I’m so sorry I hurt you Y/n, just please, give me a chance?”

Silence falls between you both as you remain lost in thought. And then, you break it as you exhale quietly. “You’ve got Taylor, David. I can’t do that to her.” You force a small smile, ignoring the tears that fall down your cheeks. “Maybe we just weren’t to ever be.” You chuckle, forcing back pain in your voice as you climb into your car.

“Taylor broke up with me.” David blurts out, just as you’re about to close your car door.

“What?” You ask, staring up at him as he stands in front of your door.

Lowering his gaze, David tries to keep himself composed. “She broke up with me before she left. She knew something wasn’t right  between us and didn’t want it to carry on and get messy.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” You can’t help but ponder over why he never spoke up, listening along with stories as you all sat together in his house and would leave to speak with her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because all I want to do is kiss you, Y/n.” David admits. “I want to be there with you in the mornings, make breakfast or try to at least. Sing shitty songs in the car and film dumb TikTok's together. I just wanna be beside you, and finally, let myself love you after all these years.” David confesses, feeling a weight lifting off his heart as he finally looks at you, seeing you focusing back at him.

“Wow.” You breathe out, now rising to your feet as you move past your car door, closing it as you stand in front of David. “You actually love me?”

David laughs quietly. “I think I always have, weird right?”

“Super weird.” You chuckle. “But kinda cool, cause I think I’ve always loved you too.”

“Oh,” David stumbles over his thoughts, as you lift your hand up, resting it on his shoulder. “that’s pretty cool. So er, what now?” He asks.

Running your hand along his shoulder, you move your fingers across to the back of his neck. “This is usually the part where you kiss me.” You mutter, smiling shyly to him as he nods.

“I think I can do that.” He whispers before resting his arm around your waist, tugging you closer into his embrace as his lips ghost yours. “I love you.” He breathes out as his lips part.

“I love you too.” You mumble back, finally allowing yourself to open up after all these years, never thinking dreams could come true.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [2]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Gender Neutral Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied violence, drama kings, and stupid tv show references

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: ayeeee, we’re back for part two. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Hours were spent on the road in thick silence. 

The both of you had been driving around for a while now. You were a considerable distance away from the mansion and Pierce, but you didn’t dare to stop.

Initially you had only put the pedal to the metal without solid plan. Get the fuck away from there was the only objective you cared about. 

Hours later a signboard registered in your frantic thoughts. Familiarity struck a chord, and all of a sudden you had a vague idea of where you could go. You were unsure if it still existed, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

Darkness still coloured the sky, but the roads were deserted. No cameras along the highway was a welcomed feature. You eased your foot off the accelerator, carefully assessing the path you were taking for your exit. 

You saw a small clearing near the highway, taking a deep breath before pulling the car into a sharp turn off the road and into the woods.

“Where are you going?” your companion jolted up when the car swerved abruptly. 

You didn’t answer; just kept your eyes peeled for the structure. You didn’t have a backup plan if this didn’t go right.

It took much longer than you anticipated before you found it, pulling the car to a stop. You were deeper into the woods than you would have liked. 

You stuck your head out of the window to confirm you were at the right place. It looked like you were.

“Where the hell are we?”

“My summer vacation house,” you murmured, unbuckling your seatbelt. You stepped out of the car to assess the damage. .

Another door opening and closing told you that he had gotten out of the car as well. However, he trudged ahead, leaving you behind. 

The car was pretty beaten up. The metal gates hadn’t done it any favours.The question was whether it would still work if you needed it to.

Probably would, but not for too long.

You looked to the side to see where he went. He was standing in front of the house, arms crossed over his chest as he ran his eyes all over the building.

You trekked past him, walking up the two steps to the door. Pulling at what looked like a doorbell in any other scenario, you tugged off the outer shell to reveal a small scanner underneath.

You pressed your thumb to it, tapping your foot impatiently as it gave a beep of approval. The door gave a soft click. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, twisting the handle to let yourself in. 

“You’re kidding right?” he asked incredulously from a distance behind you.

“Hey, man, stay outside if you want. Suit yourself.” You were sure he could fashion a bed out of leaves and twigs if he was that desperate.

Fumbling for the light switch, you sigh in relief when the room is illuminated.

“Whose safehouse is this?”

“Ransone’s.” You shrugged nonchalantly, moving ahead to inspect the place.

“I have every single one of his safehouses committed to memory.” His voice was becoming fainter as he planted his feet firmly at the doorway, refusing to move. “This ain’t one of them.”

“He’s sneaky. Once watched the next episode of Desperate Housewives without telling me.” The house wasn’t as dusty as you thought it would be, clearly being maintained once in a while although not regularly. “Broke my whole heart, he did.”

“Whose house is this?” he asked once again, tone hard as steel.

“Best that you don’t ask questions, buddy.” You looked at him wearily, a slo warning in itself, ending the conversation there. “Or else you’re welcome to leave.”

The entrance opened directly into what you assumed was the living room, or a sorry excuse for one. It had a couch facing an old cable television set, mounted on a small cupboard.

In the same space was the kitchen, with a microwave, a sink, and shelves lining the wall. A small mini fridge sat atop the counter.  There was a dining table with six chairs for a family, almost like a sick joke. You found yourself letting out a short exhale at it, moving onto the next room.

It was bare except for a shelf pressed against a well. Opening it, you found yourself looking at multitudes of what looked like burner phones, microphones, cameras, some as small as a button. Regular security cameras and monitors to go with it, trackers, anything you needed was available in those four drawers.

You pocketed a burner cell to use for later, moving to the room on the opposite side of the hall.

However, unlike the rest of the rooms you had seen so far, this one was empty. Not even a shelf decorating it.

The next door you opened was a bathroom, the final being a bedroom with one bed in the centre pushed up against the wall. A wardrobe in the corner contained numerous t-shirts of black and grey of every size, tactical pants and other necessary items of clothing.

You eyed the last door at the end of the hall before finally deciding to pursue it.

It opened to the patio in the back, two steps leading down from the house into the wooded area. Pillars held up the corners of the roof. It all looked picturesque, meant to blend in as a normal house.

You stood there for a second, taking in the silence around you. Nothing could be heard for miles, so if something were to happen-

You shook your head, forcing your imagination to stop running wild. You shut the door behind you, steadily making your way back to where the guy was.

It appeared that he had caved. He had moved from the doorway, instead taking a seat on one of the dining chairs. He was observing you, eyes keen as you took a seat opposite to him.

Dropping the burner phone on the table, you looked at him expectantly. Silence ensued until it dawned on him what you were implying. 

“I’m not calling him,” the guy said, leaning on his palm. Coward. 

“Fine.” You pulled it back, snapping it open to dial the number.

You let it ring all the way until the very last second.

“Hello?” the low voice resonated from the other end.

“Ransone.” You rolled your eyes at his tone, somehow letting your exhaustion tear down any kind of filter you usually had while in conversation with him. 

“Y/N?” His voice jumped two octaves higher to his usual pitch, dropping the facade immediately. 

“Did you set us up?” You ignored the small glance you got from the guy at your name.

“What?”

“Did you set us up?” you repeated brazenly.

“What?”

“Oh, cut the shit Ransone, was this a trap?” The guy next to you exploded impatiently.

“Wilson?” Great. A name to the face.

“Answer the fuckin’ question, Vincent.” The mention of Ranone’s first name had you surprised. No one dared to call him that.

“No, Sam,” came his response almost mockingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sam Wilson. It sounded familiar. You’d heard it tossed around a few times at the organisation.

“Why were both of us on the same assignment?”

“I told you, I wasn’t sure if Wilson was going to show up.” You could hear his chair faintly creak in the background. “This was his mission first.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” you interjected. Faint memories of a passing comment he made during your briefing were beginning to surface. 

“It means,” Ransone emphasised. “I called him first. He was being a bit… difficult. So I sent you as a backup.”

You looked at Sam. He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, as if to say to ignore what he was saying.

“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me that you were sending someone else?” If Ransone had told you, he should have mentioned it to him too.

“Oh, grow up.” Ransone sounded irritated, a tone that he seemed to reserve for Sam specifically. “You’re not children anymore. You can handle a few miscommunications.”

“Bullshit. You and I both know this isn’t an accident,” Sam retorted, dangerously good at not giving a shit. 

“You better watch yourself, agent.” Ransone snarled. “I don’t like being questioned.”

“Like I give a shit about what you like or not. We were outnumbered 8 to 2. You tellin’ me you had nothing to do with this? That the stars just aligned to royally fuck with us?”

“Yes, I waited until Mercury was in retrograde to plan this hit,” he drawled sarcastically. “Don’t you for a second forget what you owe me, Wilson. You’d be stupid to believe I’d let it go so easily by having you killed.”

His voice was ice by the end. Sam’s eyebrow furrowed as he leaned back, crossing his arm over his chest.

“Then what about me?”

“Y/N,” he sighed, instantly sounding softer. “I didn’t think he would show. That’s it.”

“You’ve never been unsure of anything.”

“Which is why I sent you in. Pierce had to die one way or the other. Don’t care how.” It wasn’t what you were talking about, but it brought up something else. 

You looked at Sam. Should you tell him that Pierce was dead before you got there?

You decided against it, not knowing what his reaction would be and too tired to gauge it over the phone. If someone else had gotten to Pierce before you, it meant that Ransone didn’t get a chance to deliver a dramatic end to his life, which would tick him off endlessly. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Sam broke the momentary pause.

“You don’t.” He paused. “Distrusting me is the wisest thing you could do.”

You scoffed at his stupid Game of Thrones quote. How he was this obnoxious at a time like this was beyond comprehension. 

“Give me your location.” He couldn’t sound less interested, like a parent forced to pick up their child. “I’ll send someone to come pick you up.”

Sam’s finger tapped at the table, drawing your attention to him.

He slowly shook his head, mentioning to his ear then drawing his finger in a circle indicating his surroundings.

Disclosing confidential information over the phone wasn’t the wisest idea. You had no idea if anyone was tapping into Ransone’s calls, listening for sensitive information. For all you knew that’s how they got to the mansion before you. 

“Forget it. We’ll figure it out,” you told Ransone, eyes still locked on Sam.

“All right, stay low for a while. Keep me updated.”

You cut the call without another word, removing the battery and tossing the phone onto the table.

“What now?”

Neither of you said anything for a while. The silence rested uncomfortably between you as you stewed over what to bring up. 

“Did you kill Pierce?”

“Christ, we still on this?” he scoffed.

“It’s a yes or no question.” 

“No,” he stared at you. “I didn’t.”

“Did Ransone send you to spy on me?” It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened, although you thought he had moved past the need for that years ago. 

“No, I was there for a mission.”

“You got any proof?”

He rolled his eyes. “Scout’s honour.”

He lifted his hand up in a mock-salute. A wince flashed across his face; barely, but enough for you to catch it. His arm dropped back down again.

You examined him silently, searching for any hint of a lie or bluff. You found nothing, only an adamant set of eyes staring right back at you.

Your chair creaked as you pushed yourself away from the table. You could feel his gaze following you as you walked down the hall to the bathroom. Shuffling through the shelves for something you were sure was there, you soon stepped back out.

You had no idea why you were doing this. You didn’t even know the guy.

He had his sleeve pulled up to his shoulder, examining the wound from the bullet graze. Dried blood streaked his forearm, partially covering his tattoo.

You tossed the first aid kit onto the table, watching it slide across to where he was sitting. Sam glanced at the box, then up at you.

You just turned around silently, walking back down the hall and towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

__________

Sleep didn’t come that night, and predictably so.

Whether it was the survival instinct guarding you from the stranger in the house, the adrenaline from the mission or even the anxiety of not knowing what exactly was going on, you were sure that you didn’t catch even a bit of shut eye.

Morning came around after what seemed like days rather than hours. You still stayed in bed well past the sunrise, pulling at the hem of your pillow. Your knife was still strapped to your thigh and your gun found a place on the nightstand, just in case.

When you heard the opening and shut of cabinets down the hall, you finally pulled yourself up, stretching to get rid of the weariness in your muscles. You decided against the gun but left the knife strapped to your thigh as you shifted off the bed.

You paused at the doorway, hand on the knob. Shoving aside your hesitation, you opened the door quietly. You could handle it, easily.

Walking towards the kitchen, the volume of his ruffling and filing through the kitchen only became louder. You stopped at the entrance, watching as Sam slammed a cabinet door shut.

“C’mon man,” he groaned before turning around to lean his body weight against the counter. There was a small bump under the sleeve of his arm, different from the curve of his muscle. You assumed he had bandaged the bullet graze the night before.

He was still wearing the same thing as yesterday. Dust was slightly settled on his shirt and one knee of his pants was ripped slightly.

“Mornin’.” You quickly looked back up at him, not realising when he had seen you. “Get any sleep last night?”

You wordlessly shook your head and he shrugged in understanding. 

“Did you?”

“Oh yeah. Out like a light.” He pushed himself off the counter.

“Really?” You watched as he pulled out a chair for himself, taking a place at the dining table, same place he was sitting the night before.

“Sounded like the reasonable thing to do.” He had an unnatural amount of faith in the fact that you wouldn’t murder him. Although you couldn’t judge if he was simply putting on a show, having stayed awake just as you had. 

“I'm stuck in a safehouse with a stranger, forgive me for being a little careful,” you muttered defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, never said you were wrong.” He lifted his hands up. “But just to make sure; are you going to kill me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“And I’m not going to kill you. I’d say that’s enough reassurance to get at least a nap in.”

“Give me one good reason to believe you.”

“If you killed me, Ransone would blow the roof of this place with you still in it. I’m one of the best he’s got.”

“Bullshit.” You scoffed, walking around the table to go see what you could find to eat. Ransone wouldn’t do that for anyone, and he knew that.

He didn’t bother responding but you could sense him tracking your movement.

The first cabinet you opened consisted purely of jars of peanut butter, stacked together neatly. The one beside it had jelly arranged in a similar fashion, jar to jar and taking up the entire space. Adjacent cupboard had loaves of bread, probably the most you’d seen together in a house ever.

The next cupboard was... empty.

“You have got to be fuckin’ with me,” you cursed under your breath. “Is there nothing else here?”

Save for a few plates and cutlery, every other shelf was empty. Your frustration only grew with each drawer you opened and shut, finding nothing but the same three components over and over again.

“There’s some soup on the top right, behind the bread.” His voice came from behind you. You checked where he mentioned, finding multiple cans of tomato soup. “I hope PB&J is your favourite, ‘cause that’s really all we got. I checked twice.”

“We won’t be here long anyway. It’s fine.” You walked a few steps towards where the TV was, sitting atop a small cupboard. If you weren’t getting gourmet meals, hopefully it would be compensated with some entertainment.

Rummaging through it didn’t prove to be a major hassle since there were only three DVDs; Die Hard, Notting Hill and Megamind. Beside it sat two books, American Gods, and Pride and Prejudice. That’s all. 

“Really made sure to cover all demographics with those movies. There’s only one local news channel, everything else is static,” Sam informed you, unmoving from his position. You sighed, tossing the DVDs back and shutting the door.

“There’s a room over there with some basic shit. Burners, mics, cameras. Clothes are in the bedroom drawer. Should probably take a shower while you’re at it, I can smell you from a mile away and it’s giving me a migraine.” You pushed yourself off the ground, pointing towards the rooms as you walked down the hall. “Backyard’s all heavily wooded. If we try hard enough, I’m sure there are a few trap doors or crawl spaces or whatever around here.”

You could hear him follow you as you gave him the tour of a place you were sure he already had examined thoroughly before you greeted him this morning.

Pushing open the door to the suspiciously empty room, you stepped to the side, allowing him to observe. The both of you had the same thought process as you split up, sticking close to the walls, running your fingers across the plaster to look for any major differences.

“Got it,” he called out. You spun on your heel to face where he was standing. A small chunk of the wall was missing, a small button in the centre of the cavity he had created.

Pressing it lightly, the mechanical sound of sliding doors filled the air as the entire side of the room gave way to shelves upon shelves of weapons. Guns, knives, ammunition, bulletproof vests; enough material to last you years.

The doors slid shut when you pressed the button again, not until you had a mental note of what was available in case you found yourself in a situation where you required them.

“That about covers it. Don’t think we’ll be here long so just think of it as your three day long staycation.”

“I’ve had a better time at funerals than I’ll ever have in this shithole.”

________

“What do you mean they escaped?” Their voice was booming, dripping with slow rising anger. “Someone explain to me how the fuck that’s possible.”

“They took the car and left.”

“They took the car and left,” they said mockingly in a high pitch. “I know that, you fucking imbecile. I’m asking how they were alive long enough to do it?”

“They teamed up. Took out nearly everyone,” the agent was monotone. His arm was in a sling and his partner stood beside him, thick bandages around his midsection.

“They shouldn’t have been there together. They shouldn’t have been sent together.”

No one said a word, not even daring to breathe loudly.

“This wasn’t supposed to fucking happen. We killed Pierce. Everything was perfect,” their voice dropped as they spat out the last word. “So then how did this fucking happen?”

“Boss, we’ll-”

“I want them dead.” They interrupted, casting silence in the room. “I don’t care how you fucking do it. I want you to find them and rip them to shreds. Both of them.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And if you even fucking think of coming back without a proper update-” they brought their hand down harshly on the table. “-I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

The agents just nodded, faces pale as they shuffled out of the room silently.

“Fucking idiots.” They nursed their forehead on their palm, calming the nerve that was menacingly visible on their temple. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Part 3

[cno-inbminor]

domus

a/n: here we have another short drabble dump! i wrote this up very quickly -- i’m still working on that long fic i’ve been talking about! i apologize for taking so long to put it together. pls take this short fic as an apology for now. stay hydrated, wear your masks, and be safe! love you all so dearly <3 

plot: when kuroo tetsuro drops the hard-hitting truth that he’s fallen out of love with you, your first thought is to escape. but you find comfort in the least likely person: akaashi keiji, a boy you had grown up with out of forced family interactions, who always seemed so distant from you. yet you probably knew more about him than anyone else. 

characters: fem!reader, ex-bf!kuroo, & family friend!akaashi 

wc: ~3.7k, will probably have other parts in the future.

genre/warnings: angst with dashes of fluff; mentions of alcohol

pt. 2 | pt. 3

edit: now crossposted to AO3!

When you’re in love, you spend weeks and months wondering why time won’t stop. You sit and ponder over why you’ll have to die someday and leave behind the person you’ve dedicated your entire soul to, or what might happen if your death came early and you didn’t get to say goodbye. You wonder why the seasons seem to pass you by so quickly, that in the blink of an eye, you go from enjoying a cup of iced tea on the porch to holding a mug of hot chocolate inside watching snowflakes swirl in their journeys to the ground.

But when love ceases to exist, time seems to stop. The days drag for longer, the seasons crawl at a turtle’s pace, and the inevitable end feels less terrifying. You no longer fear the eventual sagging of your skin or the spider legs that grow at the corners of your eyes. You no longer cling onto a hope that there will be a lover’s hand holding yours at your bed of eternal sleep. You simply become, just you. Solitary, single, independent you.

It’s no longer you and someone else. The realization stings so badly that it physically hurts you, a whimper leaving your throat. You shakily reach over for the next blouse and fight back the tears, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. The skin is chapped and broken to the point that you would need layers and layers of chapstick to save any semblance of it, a terrible habit that you wish you hadn’t possessed. It’s muscle memory, the way you fold the blouse in half, fold the sleeves in, bending it over your arm before it lands in a neat stack of other tops in your suitcase. Your eyes take a glance at the clock, and you gather you have about another hour before you needed to leave for the airport and make it on time for your flight.

You ignore the male figure hunched over on the edge of your bed, tuning out his pleas and broken promises. He begs you to give him time, to implore that it’s all his fault and he’ll make it work for the two of you. Tetsuro promises that he didn’t mean to and that it wasn’t anything you did, but you feel so empty inside that you can’t even find the energy to argue, to turn on him and say that he was pretending to take all the blame so it’d be a better explanation to all your friends. A relationship involves both parties, and while there were special exceptions, this wasn’t one of them. Something was clearly wrong with you, and you were okay with that. You were just tired of Testuro attempting to take everything onto himself.

“I thought it’d be best to come clean with you,” he says, throat hoarse from lack of hydration. “I know you would question it and I haven’t done anything, I swear, I know you’re amazing and don’t deserve to live a lie and—”

“Do you want me to say ‘thank you’?” You interjected quietly, morosely. Your hands slide open the underwear drawer and take out a week’s worth of underwear, bras, and bralettes. “Do you want me to express my gratitude in your honesty for telling me that you don’t love me anymore? You can easily buy a trophy online and make the inscription yourself. ‘Most honest man alive’? Is that what you want?” You ask, tone flat and not possessing the least bit of amusement and humor.

“Can’t you give me some time? I’ll try, I’ll try to figure out what went wrong, and I can love you again. We can still get married and everything, but please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving forever, Tetsu. I’m just gone for a week, maybe more.”

“Where are you even going?”

“That’s none of your business,” you quickly reply, defenses back up as you make a beeline for the bathroom. You pick up all the toiletries you can, the ones that would be allowed in your carry-on. Strangers won’t care about your missing skincare routine and your complexion not looking its best.

“What if you get lost? Or kidnapped? What if people ask—”

“Easy. Just tell them I had a last minute business trip, family emergency, whatever floats your boat.”

“Can’t you see that I’m trying? I—”

“This isn’t just about you!” You snap, whirling around to look at him for the first time in the last hour or so. Testuro notices with a pang in his heart that your cheeks have sunken in slightly since he broke his revelation to you just last week, the eye circles darker than ever. But your eyes are soulless, dead, no shine or spark that he’d wake up to every morning even muddled with sleep.

“You can’t just expect me to be okay and continue to bend over backwards for you without question. The least you could do is give me my time, give me some space to think about all of it. That’s the bare minimum.”

And with that, you zip your suitcase shut, grab your passport (even though you probably don’t need it), keys, wallet, and phone, and walk as quickly as you can to the front door. The scheduled Uber will arrive in just a few minutes, and as you slip into a pair of flats, you can hear the creak of the bed and Testuro’s padded steps nearing you.

“Just be careful, okay? Call me if you need anything, anything. You’re still one of the most important people to me, so just – text me at some point. Let me know you’re alive at least.”

“You need to rest. You’re on call tomorrow,” you digress while opening the door.

“(Y/n)—”

“I’ll text you. Promise.”

And the door shuts behind you.

-

Your relationship with Akaashi Keiji is…hard to explain. In fact, you’re not even sure what to refer him as in your life. Anytime you spoke of him or attempted to explain, you’d fumble over words and draw blanks. While it was irritating and aggravating at times, you learned to just accept it.

Akaashi Keiji was the neighbor down the street, two years older, and someone who had known you since you were 8. Your moms were attached at the hip not longer after you moved to Tokyo, and that meant holidays were spent together, impromptu get-togethers and dinners were a common occurrence, and you saw him frequently at school. He was a quiet soul, gentle, but reserved. In fact, most of the things you knew about him were secondhand conversations from your mother talking about the family, because honestly his mom was basically your second mom now, and your mother trusted you with everything. His past, his troubles, his personality all relayed through your mom from his own, and when you saw him in the hallways, he wasn’t much of an enigma to you. Many other girls had found the mysterious air around him to be attractive, that the pretty setter who only ever smiled around his volleyball team and kept a tight circle of friends had something significant beneath the layers.

Keiji grew up with you, playing Smash on the Wii to pass time as your parents gossiped away. Sometimes, you’d play an intense game of Monopoly with him, a game that typically tipped in his favor. He never said much about himself, always relayed more about others that overlapped in your lives. The most he ever spoke to you about was when it came to teachers at school, even giving you some of his old notes and pointers. But even you could tell that he kept his guards up, and you wondered if he even classified you as a friend.

Your go-to explanation of Keiji’s standing in your life was a family friend. But that insinuated you were close with him, which you weren’t at all. No matter how many times he walked home with you (mainly at the pushing from his mother), no matter how many times he was forced to entertain you at dinners and holidays, no matter how many times he gave you a small smile in school, there was such a large gap between the two of you. He always seemed so different around his team, like they had the privilege of knowing the real him, and at times, you felt…jealous.

And the weird thing is that you can rely on him somehow – whether it be because he’d get an earful from his parents if he didn’t help you when you asked it or out of the goodness of his heart, he was simply always there. Sometimes, you were bold enough to text him about a show he talked about in the past, and he would reply quickly as if your unexpected, rare text about something benign didn’t faze him at all.  

Yet despite the distance, despite the lack of any semblance of an actual friendship with him, he was the first one you thought of when all this happened. He was the one you wanted to see – maybe it’s because he was the closest thing to home, and you didn’t want to go back to your parents explaining everything. It’s been a while since you’ve been back in Tokyo, ever since you moved to Sapporo for your job and Testuro got matched for a residency at a hospital there.

At 7PM on a Friday afternoon, past the baggage claim with the sunset beaming in through the sliding glass doors, you stare at Keiji’s contact on your phone, thumb hovering hesitantly over the call button. You could count the number of times you’ve called him on one hand, but this was an emergency, right? Is this why your heart is pounding against your chest, so anxious that you feel like you’ll break into a cold sweat any time soon?

You jump into the deep end.

Your hand nervously brings the phone to your ear, waiting with bated breath as the dial tone echoes in the chamber of your brain. Part of you wants him to miss the call so you can avoid this awkward conversation, but another part of you desperately wants him to pick up as if he’ll be able to save you.

Oh god oh god oh god, you panic as the tone stops, there’s a pause, a rustle, and then a hesitant, “—Hello?”

You didn’t plan this out. You’re not ready for this. Shit, what are you supposed to say?

“—hello? (Y/n)?”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

Wow, you’re a terrible conversationalist.

“…um, I haven’t actually. I was about to warm up some leftovers?”

Your eyes focus on the taxis driving by, picking up passengers as they get waved down. Maybe you should just find a cheap hotel nearby, continue this conversation tomorrow.

“Well…I’m in town, actually. I just landed about 30 minutes ago and realized I didn’t have anywhere to go and I don’t really want to call anyone else and I don’t exactly know who else to call so I just, um, thought about calling you and asking if you’ve had dinner? Which if you’re busy and stuff, that’s totally fine, I should’ve texted you beforehand instead of springing this on you and—”

“(Y/n), it’s okay, alright? It’s okay. I’m not busy, so you can stop by. Did my mom ever give you my address?”

Keiji’s brief attempt to calm you down works, surprisingly. You allow yourself to take a deep breath despite the stale airport air, but it was some much-needed oxygen. This is going to be okay, Keiji doesn’t hate you quite yet.

“N-no, she never did.”

“That’s fine, I’ll text it to you. My place is about 30 minutes from the airport, I’d recommend getting a taxi instead of an Uber. I’ll order some delivery—”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“You still like the miso ramen from that shop not far from your house, right? They opened up a second store not far from where I live.”

How did he remember that? You’re pretty sure your own mother had forgotten that fact by now.

“Y-yeah, I do,” you smile to yourself. “I still think about it sometimes.”

“Sounds good then. Get here safely then.”

“Okay. Thank you loads again. I’m sorry for all this—”

“Don’t worry about it. Keep me updated, see you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Not 30 seconds later, a text arrives to your phone with an address, a keycode for getting past the main door, and other relevant instructions.

-

Keiji’s apartment is exactly as you expect it to be – prim, proper, neat almost to a fault, with minimalist decorations. The apartment complex he lives in is rather high-end, if the security guards standing outside the main entrance indicated anything. You almost feel completely out of place or like a bug on the wall as you step in after him, a rather comfortable silence between the two of you. His kitchen is spotless and almost sparkles back at you, and the only thing that seems out of place are the containers of your ramen he so kindly ordered for you.

“Your place is really nice, it’s really…you,” you comment, setting your stuff down at the door. Keiji indulges you with a quiet laugh, making sure that there wasn’t anything that would be in your way. His glasses are perched on his head, an old monochrome t-shirt on his shoulders and sweatpants hung low on his hips, yet in this apartment that almost seems like it should be in an interior design magazine, he looks at home. His ethereal beauty, the softness in his eyes, the gentle up-turned strands of his hair – he belonged here.

“The ramen came not too long ago, so it’s still hot. I’ll go ahead and put it together, you can put your jacket on the couch.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Instead, you fold your jacket over your suitcase and quietly make your way into the apartment. Straight across from you are doors to a balcony – darkness had long taken over the city, so you see nothing but your reflection at first. But as you near the plexiglass, the reflection disappears into the view and you almost gasp from the beauty of it.

Blinking lights, flashing billboards, and the brightly lit Tokyo Skytree peer back at you. It only hits you now how much you’ve missed home, and that even though Sapporo was one of the largest cities in Japan, it still wasn’t Tokyo.

“I never get tired of it,” Keiji chimes in while carrying your bowl of ramen to the dining table.

“It’s an amazing view, I can see why you’d live here,” you reply while moving away from it. The table also has two empty wine glasses, and just as you’re about to ask him why they were there, he returns with a newly opened bottle of chardonnay.

“I haven’t had a lot of time to restock the wine fridge, but I knew I was going to kick myself for not having a bottle of that dessert wine we had before you went off to college,” he said with mirth and amusement. “You remember that one?”

“Yeah,” you nearly splutter, almost flushing that once again, Keiji was remembering details about you that you didn’t even know. “Your mom wanted to throw me a graduation dinner and you made it back in time after finals. And she had a bottle of it and between the two of us, we probably drank most of it. Our parents said it was too sweet.”

He nods and sits across from you, elbows on the table as you mutter, “Itadakimasu,” and start eating. You finish your meal silently for the most part, making small talk here and there. Keiji refills both of your glasses and the two of you sip the wine demurely, and while he seems okay with the lack of an explanation, you’re struggling to find the right words.

“So what’s with the impromptu trip to Tokyo? Are you going to see your parents?”

“Should I try to lie to you?”

“It’s up to you.”

Oh, okay then.

But he looks expectant, as if he knows you wouldn’t lie to him – in fact, you’ve never lied to him before. There was never any need to, but did that just mean neither of you ever cared enough?

“Something happened with me and Testuro. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but at the end of the day…I just needed to get away, as cliché as it sounds,” you laugh brokenly. Keiji continues to carefully observe you with a stare that you can’t escape. “I don’t want to tell my parents – you know them, they’ll ask a million questions. Without thinking, I booked a ticket to Tokyo and…now I’m here.”

That was a lie. How are you supposed to tell Keiji that he was the first person you thought of in an effort to run away? You and Keiji have never gotten personal before, he made sure of that. The last thing you want to do is weird him and scare him off.

“…did he cheat on you?” Keiji asked. His voice is darker in his inquiry, deeper than you’ve ever heard before. He has his hands folded in front of his lips and his eyes harden. Testuro may be an old friend to him, but you were in his life longer.

“Nonononono,” you quickly wave off. This isn’t the time to slander your…boyfriend? Could Tetsuro still even be your boyfriend if he no longer has any feelings for you? “Nothing like that.”

“That’s good to hear. If you want, you can tell me another time then. You’re welcome to stay here until you go back to Sapporo.”

You look up at him, eyes incredulous. Could Keiji really be this comfortable with you?

“I wouldn’t mind staying tonight, but I can stay in a hotel for the rest of the week that I’m here.”

“Nonsense,” Keiji refutes, standing from the table and taking your wine glasses to the sink. You follow with your bowl and he starts washing them before you can even offer. “Mom would kill me if she knew I let you pay for a hotel when I have a perfectly functioning bed you can stay in.”

“I mean, if it’s not a bother…”

“It’s not. The futon’s pretty comfortable, I’ve definitely fallen asleep on it plenty of times.”

“We can switch, I would never let you sleep on the futon for a whole week.”

“If you say so then. But for tonight, you can take my bed. Let me grab you an extra towel so you can shower. I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” he says while drying everything off, folding the kitchen towel neatly before heading off to his room. He returns with a large, soft grey towel and you shyly take it from him with a word of thanks, but he stays there in front of you, waiting for something.

“I’m really glad you picked up the phone,” you whisper softly, feeling the effects of the alcohol. You’re entering uncharted territory for the two of you, and this could either kill or strengthen this odd distant friendship. “I meant it when I said I didn’t know who else to call. You were the first person that came to mind and just…I don’t want to make this weird, like you can kick me out,” you begin to ramble. “Don’t feel like you’re obligated to take me in because your mom would be disappointed if you wouldn’t, you’ve already put up with me for over 15 years and it’s fine, I can be on my own and—”

Smooth, calloused hands delicately hold your face, large palms and nimble fingers cupping your cheeks. Your words die on your tongue as Keiji stares straight into your eyes, holding your gaze until your breathing calms down to a steady, languid pace. “You’re my friend, (y/n). So it’s good that you called me.”

“I’m your…friend?” You ask unsteadily, feeling a sense of disbelief.

“Yeah,” he confirms with the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now go shower.”

“Okay.”

-

You’re fast asleep before Keiji finishes his own shower, his bedroom door left ajar as the hallway light beams through. He pauses in the midst of drying his hair with a towel, letting it bunch and hang off his neck as he cautiously pushes the door open. Keiji notices your even breathing and how much more relaxed you look in sleep. You’re curled up on your side with the blanket pulled up to your face and he can’t lie: it’s adorable and cute, and he shouldn’t really be thinking these things.

He sits on the edge of the bed in the little space that’s provided, lithe fingers reaching out to brush back a few stray wisps of your hair. Watching you sleep pulls him back into a fond memory he’s kept of the two of you, one that might’ve held very little significance to you but meant something so much more to him. He knows you know him well, he knows how much his mother babbles on about him, and adults were more prone to gossip than the rowdiest of teenagers – he’d be painfully oblivious if he didn’t think you knew that much about him, or more than the average friend.

But it’s comforting to him, sometimes. Knowing you, how kindly you think of others, he might not have to explain what he’s feeling in the moment. You would be able to know, and that soothes him to some degree.

Maybe he had a little bit too much wine as well, but ever so subtly, motions steady and unhurried, he deftly leans closer and closer until his lips brush the apple of your cheek. He lingers for no more than a few seconds and sits back up, gazing at you before standing. His hands adjust the blankets and make sure you’re properly tucked in. He pads away, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible as to not wake you.

And when he’s found a comfortable position on the futon with his most comfortable throw blanket, he realizes, begrudgingly, that this week will fly by too fast for his liking.  

[kaimelia]

never be alone

a/n: okay! this was originally supposed to be part of enough for you, but got cut out and I figured I would still turn it into it’s own fic...I hope you enjoy it! thank you to everyone who helped me out with this one!

tw:references to drug use

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

"Link?" Her voice was quiet, so soft that for a moment, she wasn't sure that she had actually said anything; the only thing she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her chest.

"Yes?" His response was stern, the way he had spoken to her the last time their relationship fell apart, when their only communication was shared over patients at work, when Amelia had lost him for the first time. She sighed at the sound of his voice. It had only been a few days, but it sounded so unfamiliar to her that it took her by surprise.

"Link, I know you're mad at me, but I need you right now." There was a pause before she heard him sigh, her hand shaking on the phone as it was held up to her ear. "Please," she whimpered, her eyes darting around.

The bathroom was dark; she'd purposefully not turned on the lights in the hopes of avoiding the reflection of herself in the mirror. Between the bags under her eyes and the knowledge of the thoughts swirling around her brain, she knew that she couldn't bear to look at herself. The floor was cold, her pajama shorts providing no warmth as she shivered slightly.

"Where are you?"

"At Meredith's, she's out with the kids, and Maggie's still on her honeymoon, and I can't be alone right now, Link; I need to not be alone right now." Another pause, followed by shuffling from his end before he made some mix of a groan and a sigh, and she felt momentarily guilty. "I'm sorry," she whispered, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

"Is Scout okay?"

"Link, he's fine; he's with Mer; I need you right now."

Her mind was filled with so many dark thoughts that she was surprised she was able to speak to him. The idea of feeling the relief from taking the one thing she had sworn away a long time ago was more appealing to her than anything, and if she wasn't frozen in place, she was sure her legs would be carrying her to somewhere she shouldn't end it.

It wasn't good. She thought of her son, her son who far, far away at the park, probably running across the woodchips where he often tripped and ended up in tears. Her son, who she had to stay sober for because she didn't want to ruin his entire life all because she couldn't be a good enough mother for him.

"I'll be there in five minutes," he muttered, and Amelia heard the sound of him picking up keys.

She wondered if it was his regular key ring, the same one that held his house key, the bright blue key he'd insisted on spending an extra dollar on because it attracted Scout's attention for so long.

"Okay." She breathed out slowly, her face dropping as she heard the sound of the call ending. She brought it away from her face and frowned at the black screen in front of her.

The air around her was so quiet that Amelia was sure the world had stopped turning on its axis. She leaned her head back on the wall behind her, staring up at the ceiling and trailing her eyes over the molding of the wall.

She heard the sound of rain outside as it hit against the bathroom window, finally filling the silence around her with something. She breathed heavily.

The sound of the door opening was jarring, causing Amelia to flinch as he burst through. She somehow hadn't heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs or the door unlocking downstairs when he came in. She glanced up at him.

He looked terrible, to put it gently. He hadn't shaved in the past few days; he was wearing the pajamas he almost always wore to bed, and part of Amelia knew he likely hadn't washed them since putting them on. His hair was disheveled, longer than she remembered it being, the strands falling straight down to frame his face.

Link looked down at her, his jaw locked and his eyes dark. He kneeled in front of her slowly, placing his hand on her knee wearily. "What do you need?"

"Hold me, please." Link sighed, maneuvering himself to sit behind her against the wall, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his body. She felt him embrace her tightly, pushing his arms into her body and applying pressure.

Amelia leaned forward as if about to heave, coughing loudly and choking on her breath, her body instinctively slamming back into his as she breathed heavily. He didn't loosen his grip on her at all, and Amelia was grateful for that.

He pressed his lips against the side of her head, and for a moment, she allowed herself to think that everything was normal. That she had a rough day, lost a patient, and came home to Link, who promptly wrapped his arms around her without any question. That she wasn't on the verge of ruining years of progress in her life, that everything in her life hadn't been flipped upside down, and didn't feel entirely wrong. His embrace was so warm that she finally stopped shivering, his breath hot against her head, his stubble scratching gently against her skin.

Shivering soon turned into shaking. She was no longer cold, but her body wouldn't stop moving, and she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but her voice was gone.

Amelia didn't even realize she was crying until she felt Link's thumb against her cheek, brushing away a stream of tears. His touch was soft and gentle, and she felt his other arm lifting her ever so slightly until she was sitting on top of his legs, her body sideways against him. She subconsciously leaned into him, pushing her face into the fabric of his shirt.

The fabric smelled like him, his cologne that she knew he managed to pack before he left their home, as it had already been gone by the time she arrived. She inhaled, and the strength of it caused her to cry harder, feeling his shirt damp against her cheeks as she realized how much she had missed his comfort over the past few months when he slowly slipped away from her and seemed to turn into a different man.

She shut her eyes.

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

She woke up to the feeling of his thumb grazing against her arm, his embrace just as tight around her as when she closed her eyes. The next thing she took in was the warmth around her, sweat dripping down her face, and the smell of her damp shirt mixed with his cologne suddenly nauseating. She coughed, finally finding the strength to move, and she quickly crawled over to the toilet before vomiting into the ceramic bowl. His palm rested on her back, rubbing a circular pattern as his other pulled back the strands of her hair fallen out of her ponytail.

Her vision blurred as she sat up, reaching to flush the toilet and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, slowly standing and spitting into the sink. "Can I get you something? Tea, maybe?" Link tried, pushing himself off of the floor and standing behind her.

"No, I'm fine."

"Amelia, you need to drink something. You look-"

"Like crap? Yeah, I haven't exactly been doing very well recently," she muttered, swishing mouthwash around and spitting it out. "Water, I guess." He nodded sternly, his hand dropping from her back as he hurried downstairs, returning soon with a glass of water. Amelia turned around and took it, attempting to hide the shaking of her hand as she took a drink.

"Can I ask what happened?" The glass clinked against the sink as she set it down, her hand running through her hair and an accompanying sigh leaving her mouth.

"I was worried that if I was alone any longer, I would," her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip, drumming her fingers against the edge of the sink. "I was worried that I might relapse. And, I know that you hate me right now, but I just needed a second to breathe and make sure that I didn't find some junky oxy dealer and screw him for drugs. Because I don't know if you've noticed, but these past few months have been absolute hell for me, and I'm not going to marry you when it takes everything in me to just stay sober."

"You didn't say anything," he muttered, leaning into the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. "I didn't realize."

"How the hell am I supposed to talk to you when every time you open your mouth, you start rambling about putting the clothes Scout's outgrown in the attic so that we can use them for our next kid! Link, I don't want to have another kid. I don't want to get married, and I couldn't say anything about it because you kept shoving your happiness down my throat when all I needed was a minute to breathe." Her mouth closed slowly, and she looked away from him. "You haven't noticed how I go to meetings almost every day? Link, I feel like I'm dying over here, and all I've needed was for you to be there for me." She took a breath before looking up at him, his gaze cold and his face hard.

"I don't hate you, Amelia."

"Then why the hell would you propose to me, at my sister's wedding, in front of the kids, when we haven't been talking about marriage. You stopped checking in, Link; you stopped giving me space to talk to you about things."

"I thought you wanted it. When Owen proposed to Teddy on Christmas, you looked happier than you had been in months; Amelia, I thought you were ignoring me because you wanted more. And you started working for longer and longer, and I didn't know what to do. How am I supposed to know what's going on if you don't even try to talk to me about it?" He had raised his hands as he spoke, and he now brought them down, sighing loudly. "Listen, I'm sorry. I did stop checking in, and I should've asked before I proposed; I just thought that-" He froze at the sound of the front door opening downstairs.

"It's Mer; she was only taking the kids out for an hour or so," Amelia spit into the sink again, wiping her mouth with a washcloth. "I can't fight right now, Link; I need time to think things through. I need to make sure that I'm okay."

"Amelia?" Meredith called out, and Amelia glanced up as her sister's footsteps approached the bathroom. "Can I come in? Scout just wants to be held, but I need to go ay down; I'm exhausted." She hesitantly moved towards the door, only opening it enough to take Scout from her sister's arms. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, go lay down," she began to shut the door before Meredith grabbed onto it and pushed it open, her eyes widening at the sight of Link against the wall.

"Oh, I'll leave you two-"

"We're not, god, Mer, just go." The bathroom door shut, and Amelia leaned back against it, Scout babbling in her arms as he tugged at the loose strands of her hair.

"Can I hold him?" She raised her eyebrows at Link. "I haven't gotten to see him in the past few days," Link muttered, walking towards them. "I've missed him."

"That's not my fault."

"I didn't say that, Amelia." He grinned at the boy, holding his arms out and happily taking Scout from her, the baby immediately settling comfortably in his father's arms. "Can I take you to a meeting or something? I'm not sure how to help."

She thought for a moment. The sight of her son so relaxed in his father's arms was both enraging and settling. He had been asking for his father ever since she arrived home from the wedding, and even though she knew he got over it the second she handed him a toy, it was relieving to see them interact so normally.

She didn't want to move on, find someone new and restart her family. But, she also wasn't quite ready to forgive Link.

"Amelia?"

"Yeah, a meeting would be good." He smiled for a moment, and Amelia almost did so herself as well. Link nodded, cringing slightly as Scout's hand slapped against his cheek.

"We should get going before this guy bruises my face," Link laughed, bringing Scout's hand up to his mouth and pretending like he was going to bite it. Scout shrieked happily, babbling nonsense as they headed down into the car, and he was placed into his car seat.

The car ride was silent and not the comfortable silence that Amelia was used to between them. She stared out the window, occasionally glancing back at her son, who had fallen asleep as soon as the car had started moving. She snapped forward as the car was put into park.

"Do you want me to come with or stay here?"

"Stay, I need to do this by myself," she murmured, opening the car door. "Thank you. For coming over, for bringing me here."

"Amelia, I'm always here to help, no matter what's going on. And, I'm sorry-"

"No, not right now." His lips pursed tightly, and he nodded. "Text me if he needs anything."

"I will." She stood in place for a moment, glancing between Link and Scout, breathing slowly.

"Alright. Bye, Link," Amelia whispered, waving to both of them in the car and shutting the door.

Maybe she was too optimistic for someone who had just been screaming twenty minutes ago, but part of her felt hopeful. The things that had weighed down on her for months were finally out in the open, and as she stepped towards the group of people, she finally allowed herself to smile.

[camistired]

stranger

scenario: trying to show Bucky that your there for him during tfatws, but he keeps ignoring you

a/n: i started writing this yesterday after watching the first episode of tfatws. if people like this, i might make this a whole ff following the show, so let me know if you like this. also please ignore any mistakes or if it’s wordy, i haven’t written anything in months. i am open to criticism!

edit: i didn’t realize i didn’t name until i was trying to add it to my masterlist, so please ignore the half-assed name, please and thankyou

reader has been left gender-neutral and has no specific race written

spoiler warning

It had been a few months since everyone started reappearing, yourself included. The last thing you remembered was waiting out the fight with Thanos with Shuri, and you remembered feeling lighter then usual and you watched as your friend turned to dust before your very eyes. However what felt like the same breathe, you watched as her being was rebuilt by the same dust the took her away.

It had been a lot to process, to know that you and others close to you had basically died, and came back to the same exact fight happening. It was worse to come back to know that one of your dearest friends was dead and she couldn’t be brought back like the lot of you. It sucked standing in-between Bucky and Sam at Tony’s funeral.

You had missed five years of life, and for what? For some giant purple pyscho titan to stop over population and then become a space rancher? In your eyes, it was complete and utter bullshit. But you can’t change the past.

With Steve’s retirement, Bucky’s pardon, and Sam still kicking ass and saving people as The Falcon, you felt lost. Everyone else has scattered around to handle everything by themselves. But you thrived off of others, that’s just how you worked. So, sitting lonely in your single bedroom Brooklyn apartment, you let out a loud sigh.

You stayed in New York, purely for Bucky’s sake. The man is a hundred and six, and is an ex-assassin, he doesn’t need your help. Especially since you can barely hold a gun without nearly pissing your pants. But you knew the man was basically alone. He spent his past ninety years being in and out of ice fighting, except when he had his moment of peace in Wakanda.

You’ve tried to reach out, called him every now and again, but it was always went to voicemail. You left so many voicemails, your surprised it isn’t full by now. But you’ll keep leaving them, no matter if he actually listens to them or if he just deletes them immediately. You hoped that they gave him some sort of comfort if he did ever listen to them.

You looked at the time, it was a quarter past eleven. You let out another sigh. Something you still haven’t been able to get down was your damn sleep schedule. Sometimes you stayed up until two - three in the morning and sleep into the afternoon, and that was on a good day. You tried to establish a routine, but it just  never worked. If you tried to go to bed earlier, you end up either staring at the ceiling till sunrise or waking up in the middle of the night, for no reason. You didn’t have to use the bathroom, you didn’t have a nightmare, you just woke up, and you couldn’t go back to sleep, no matter what you tried. You’ve expressed this to your brother, you suggests maybe you go see a therapist, maybe do a sleep study, but you just shut the ideas down. That was the last things you wanted to do, was be monitored.

However, you couldn’t do this anymore. You forced yourself out of bed and changed your clothes from your normal sweatpants and baggy t-shirt to leggings and a slightly less baggy shirt. If you couldn’t fall asleep naturally, might as well take a walk around the block and maybe take a melatonin tablet or two, see if that does anything.

Locking your door, you start walking down your hall when you see a man walk away from your neighbor’s, Yori Nakajima’s, door. You’ve known the old man for as long as you lived here. You’ve tried to help him out as much as he will let you, and even though he’ll never admit it, he appreciates the help. He tries to repay in small ways, he even offers you to join him and a younger friend of his for sushi down at Izzy, but you always turn him down. You helped to help, not get anything in return.

You walked up to Yori’s door but he closed it before you could reach his door. You sighed and instead decided to talk to the man walking away.

“Excuse me!” You called out, walking towards him. He seemed to tense up and walked a little faster but you touch his arm before he could go much farther.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, I just have a few question...”

He cursed under his breathe but he didn’t move. That’s when you noticed the way he held himself. His body language very much showed he was uncomfortable, and whether he was doing on purpose or subconsciously, he was leaning away from where your hand met his arm.

You moved your hand back down to your side but you walked in front of him and you froze when you saw his face.

“Bucky?!”

He seemed to shy into himself more when you recognized who he was, making you instantly felt bad. However, examining him he looked different. His hair was a big one, ever since you first met Bucky,  his hair was shoulder length. But he looked a lot cleaner with shorter hair, his loose curls a lot more prominent now. However, that  seemed to showcase the most change. It felt as if he went backwards more than anything.

His jacket, the gloves, the brooding energy radiating off of him. He felt like the man you met back when the whole “Civil War” mess was happening.

He softly addressed you, but he still never looked at you directly. It was concerning especially since you considered you two close. But maybe it was because you two haven’t talked properly? Maybe because he’s been ignoring your calls? Whatever the reason, you didn’t care. It made you feel better he was out talking to people, no matter that it was your older neighbor, he was interacting with people. It made you wonder if he had talk to Sam, but you doubted it.

“Long time no see, stranger. Glad to see your still alive.”

He looked at you with a blank expression, and you recognized that looked. He was looking for a tell, if you were angry at him or not. In all honesty, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry like he excepted you to be. You’re glad he was doing something, he didn’t have to be okay fully, just as long as he was going out.

“I’m not angry, Bucky.” You said flatly, as his eyes met yours. You could tell that he relaxed, physically. “I mean, concerned, sure. Scared you had locked yourself in your apartment, definitely. But not mad. Just... wished you would have called. Sent a text to let me know you were okay... Anything, really.”

He sighs, “I know... I should have done something- said something. I just have a lot going on.”

“Everyone does. Half of the population got turned into dust, we’ve lost a lot of friends. It’s just... we’ve gotta stay together, you know? We can’t rely on Steve anymore... And the more we’re by ourselves, the more we’re just creating terrible coping mechanisms, ya know?”

He seems to be taking in your words and you just smile at him softly. “Just think about it, okay?”

You begin walking down the hall before you turn towards him again, “Oi! And Barnes?”

He looks up at you, “Yeah?”

“If I don’t hear from you soon, just know I will hunt you down and beat your ass! No more of this distancing, stranger shit. I know how to find you now. And you know where I live!”

You smirk as you turn around to finally go on that walk, but little did you know that Bucky had a little smirk of his own as he took in your words.

“No more distancing, no more acting like a stranger... I have to start nurturing my friendships...”

[maxinaptak]

(AoT/SNK) Reluctant Hero: Levi X Abused!Reader

You looked around nervously and pulled your sweater sleeve down farther as you walked into the school building. You didn’t want anyone to see the new bruises on your arms, let alone on your neck. You hoped the turtleneck sweater would hide them. You knew the sweater looked suspicious since it was late spring, borderline early summer, and the temperatures called for lighter clothing, but you really had no choice. You tugged the neck up higher and scurried off to your locker, hoping everyone would ignore you like they normally did.

“Hey ________, what’s with the sweater,” your best friend Max asked, scaring you near shitless, “Isn’t it a little warm?”

“Ah…,” you muttered, panicking slightly, trying to come up with an excuse, “I’m not warm at all! You know me, I’m a fucking ice cube, I’m cold all the time!”

You cringed internally, knowing it sounded like a terrible excuse, but you prayed to whatever god there was out there that she bought it. You breathed a silent sigh of relief when she laughed.

“Yeah, you’re right.” She said, smiling.

You grabbed your books and shoved them into your backpack. You slung it over your shoulder and winced in pain as it hit a particularly nasty bruise on your back.

Max looked at you concerned and asked, “Hey, are you ok?”

You quickly nodded your head and said, “Yeah, I’m fine! I just hurt my back last night trying to move my couch.”

“Why were you moving your couch?” She asked, confused.

You racked your brain for any lie possible and quickly spewed, “I was trying to clean under it.”

She seemed to buy it and you breathed another quiet sigh of relief. You finally bid your friend goodbye and hurried to your first hour class, pre-calculus. You immediately sat in your seat and took your book and notebook out, getting prepared for class. Class began and you wrote down everything your teacher did exactly as she did, but you still didn’t understand it. When you finished the notes, she began to hand back your last test. You got nervous, knowing that you didn’t do very well. When she placed it on your desk, it was upside down, and she gave you a sad look. She continued on down the rows and you sighed, flipping the test over, groaning quietly at the red “f” at the top. Next to it, also written in red letters, was a note that said, ‘See me at the end of class please – Mrs. Palmer’. You sighed again and looked up, only to have your (e/c) eyes lock with steely grey irises.

‘Shit!’ You thought, blushing lightly and looking away from him.

His name was Levi Ackerman, a fellow senior at Shiganshina High, and he was a student aid for Mrs. Palmer first hour. You’d known Levi since you were in fourth grade when he had moved from France to Shiganshina. You were never friends, but he had been in both your fourth and fifth grade classes and several classes after that in middle and high school. You’d learned a little bit about the boy by watching him from afar, but you had never talked to him more than just a passing encounter during class about an assignment. You’d heard from other people that he was a very unpleasant person, but from the few brief encounters you had with him he didn’t seem that bad.

“Alright, that’s all for today,” Mrs. Palmer said, snapping you out of your thoughts, “Either review your test or start on your homework.”

You chewed your lip as you rose from your seat, beginning to walk towards Mrs. Palmer’s desk. You eventually came to a stop before her desk and played with the end of your sweater, dreading what she was going to say.

“________, do you know that you’re failing?” She asked quietly so that only you could hear her.

You swallowed and nodded almost guiltily.

“Why is that?” She continued.

“I just don’t understand the stuff…,” you muttered, looking down, “I write down the notes exactly how you write them, but I just don’t understand how to do it….”

She frowned and said, “That’s what I thought. Would it help if you had a tutor?”

You thought for a moment and nodded. Your teacher nodded as well and motioned someone behind you over. When that someone stopped beside her, you looked at them and resisted the urge to gasp. It was Levi.

“From now on I’m going to have Levi tutor you,” she said, gesturing to the short male with her hand, “He’s amazingly good at math and he’s tutored many students before so I’m sure he can help you.”

You nodded and looked at him shyly.

“Do you have a lunch or a free hour?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“Um, both, actually…,” you said, voice shaky, “I have lunch fourth hour and IA eighth hour.”

“Alright,” he sighed, nodding, “I’ve got lunch fourth hour and I student aid for Mrs. Palmer again eighth hour for pre-calc so were meeting both those times, got it?”

You quickly nodded.

“I’ll find you at lunch, so just sit where you normally do.” He said, picking his bag up from the floor.

You nodded again. The bell rang and he nodded at you before walking past you and leaving the room. You quickly gathered your things and made your way to your AP psychology class. You took your seat next to your best friend and stared off into space.

“Hey,” Max said, snapping her fingers in front of your face, startling you, “Earth to ________! What’s up with you today?”

“Well, I wasn’t feeling the greatest this morning, but then last hour I found out that I’m going to be getting tutored twice a day by Levi Ackerman.” You said, shaking your head.

“Wait, you’re getting tutored by Mr. Forever-Pissed-Off-With-A-Stick-Up-His-Ass?!” Max asked, surprised.

“Oh come on,” you said, rolling your eyes, “He’s not that bad.”

“You’ve never seen him mad then.” Max said, shuddering.

You shook your head and tried to pay attention to your psych teacher.

You grabbed you lunch and sat down at your normal table, across from Max.

“Why are you over there?” She asked.

“Cause I’ve gotta get tutored.” You answered, pulling your book and notebook out, getting ready for number hell.

A minute later, a book and a tray were placed beside yours and a body settled onto the bench next to you.

“Alright brat, you ready for this?” Levi asked, cracking his knuckles.

You flinched at the sound and began to shake.

“U-uh, excuse me…!” You said, jumping up and running from the table, heading towards the bathroom.

Levi watched ________ run off with confused grey eyes. The girl looked terrified. He turned his perplexed orbs to her best friend, hoping she could shed some light on the situation.

“Is she alright?” He asked.

Max sighed and said, “She does that sometimes. She’ll randomly cringe and suddenly run off, most times to the bathroom. I feel like it’s got something to do with hearing or seeing something but I can’t figure it out.”

The girl looked worried about her friend and Levi wanted to figured it out as well. He wondered if it was something he had done or said. He frowned and looked in the direction that ________ had run off and saw that she was coming back.

You quickly pulled yourself together and left the bathroom. You headed back to the table, an embarrassed blush coming to your cheeks as you saw Levi looking at you.

“Sorry,” You said quietly, pulling on your sleeves, “I get these little nauseous spells and I tend to run away when they happen… you know, just in case….”

You hoped the lie sounded believable, because if they didn’t buy it you were in big trouble. Luckily they both nodded and Levi dove right into the tutoring lesson. Mrs. Palmer had given him all the things that you’d need to go over and he luckily started at the beginning. You didn’t get to go through much, but what you did get through you finally understood.

“Alright, so eighth hour, just go to Mrs. Palmer’s room and we’ll pick up where we left off, alright?” Levi said, packing his things up.

You nodded and did the same, shoving you book in your bag. You slung it over your shoulder and flinched again as it came in contact with the same bruise from that morning. What you didn’t know was that it didn’t go unnoticed by both Levi and Max, who shared a worried look.

Eighth hour you headed to Mrs. Palmer’s room, your pre-calc book in hand. It was an odd feeling but you accepted it. When you reached the room, you were relieved to see that Levi was already there.

“Back here,” he said, leading you to a table in the back of the room, “We’ll be going over things back here while she teaches and she’ll probably drop in and check up on us at some point knowing her.”

You giggled slightly, knowing he was right. You sat down and began studying again. Levi really was a good tutor because you were picking the material up really fast now. Soon the bell rang, signaling that you were released from prison. You both let out a breath and began to slowly pack up your stuff.

“Thank you for tutoring me…,” you said softly, causing Levi to pause in his movements, “I know Mrs. Palmer probably asked you to do it, but still, it’s really helping me already so… thanks….”

“Actually,” he said, beginning to put his stuff away again, “I offered to do it.”

“What?!” You said, looking at him in surprise.

“She was grading tests and she started talking about how she was sad about a student not doing well and she started ranting to me, as she often does, and after she was finished, I offered to tutor you.” He said, looking at you.

You blushed lightly and looked back down at your stuff, shoving the last thing in your bag.

“Well, thank you….” You said.

He nodded and you both stood. You excited the classroom and parted ways with a quick goodbye. You stopped by your locker to drop off a few things before leaving the school. You groaned loudly when you reached the door and saw the light sprinkle turn into a downpour. You sighed and were about to accept your fate when a voice sounded from behind you.

“Are you walking home ________?”

You turned around with a start and saw Levi standing there, backpack over one shoulder, umbrella in one hand, and car keys in the other.

You looked back out the door for a second before returning your gaze to the male and answering.

“I have to,” you said, your shoulders slumping slightly, “I don’t have a car….”

He frowned and shook his head.

“I’m not letting you walk home in this kind of weather,” he said, walking up to you, “I may be an asshole, but I'm not that much of an asshole.”

You opened your mouth to argue but a clap of thunder sounded, cutting you off. You flinched at the loud sound and began to shake. You nodded your head, agreeing to letting him drive you home. He walked to the doors, you right behind him, and opened one. He opened the umbrella and stepped outside. He grabbed your backpack and pulled you out and under the umbrella with him, keeping his arm around your shoulders. He led you through the parking lot to his truck and unlocked the doors. He opened the passenger side door and helped you into the truck before closing the door and getting in himself. He tossed the wet umbrella into the backseat and started the truck.

“Where do you live?” He asked.

You swallowed hard and told him where you lived. He looked at you with a strange look in his eyes but began driving anyway. You looked down at your hands shyly. You didn’t want him to know you lived in the really nice neighborhood. When he pulled up to your house, you blushed more. It was really big.

“Um…,” you muttered, looking at him shyly, “Thanks for driving me home Levi….”

“Yeah, anytime.” He said, a strange look in his eyes.

You grabbed your bag and quickly jumped out of the truck, running into your house. You watched through the window as he pulled away and sighed. You trudged up the stairs to your room. You entered the barely furnished room and set your bag down on the floor. You locked your door and sat on your bed, bringing your knees to your chest. You reached over to your bedside table and picked up the framed picture that was set there. You looked at it and felt tears roll down your face. It was a picture of your family from when you were little. Your mother was holding you and your two older brothers were standing beside her, hugging you two, their heads on her shoulders. Your father wasn’t in the picture since he was the one who took it, but it was all for the best since you hated the man. You hated him because he didn’t even want you. He had never wanted you. He’d only wanted sons. The only reason you were born was because your mother wanted you. She loved you with all her heart and you shared the same adoration. But then she was taken from you when you were six. She had been hit crossing the street while she was out shopping one day and died before the paramedics even arrived.

“I miss you mom….” You whispered, letting more tears flow.

Your phone rang and you sniffled, wiping your eyes. You grabbed your (f/c) phone and looked at the caller ID. You saw that it was your older brother Mason and smiled slightly.

“Hi Mason.” You said, voice still shaky.

“________,” he said, sounding concerned, “What’s wrong? You sound off.”

“Nothing. I'm fine, really. I was just looking at the picture of me, you, Joshua, and mom and got a little sad, that’s all.” You said, smiling to yourself.

“Ok, well as long as that’s all that it is. Don’t be afraid to tell me if there is something though. Cause I’ll cut a bitch, and you know it.” He said.

You giggled and said, “Yeah, I know.”

He chuckled and said, “So how’ve you been little one?”

“Holding on.”

“School kicking your ass?”

“Yeah….” You trailed off a bit.

Your brother laughed and asked a few more questions before ending the call. It was hard having twin older brothers who were ten years older than you. You had a great relationship with them but they didn’t know what was happening with your father.

“________!”

Speaking of your father….

You flinched at the yell you heard and knew you’d be getting a few new bruises.

It’d been two weeks since Levi started tutoring you and since you got a few pretty new bruises on your back, arms, and neck from him. It was beginning to get too warm for long sleeve sweaters, so you were wearing a tank top under and light hoodie, trying to hide as much of the bruising as possible. Levi also started driving you home every day, insisting that you shouldn’t have to walk if he could drive you. When you got into the truck, you dropped your phone, so you leaned over to grab it. You weren’t careful when you leaned though, and Levi got an eyeful of bruising on your neck and chest.

“Shit ________,” he said, staring at you, wide eyed, “What happened to you?!”

You looked at him confused before realizing what had happened. You blushed and pulled you hoodie around you tighter, trying to cover the bruising. You began to shake, fear coursing through your veins at what was to come.

“________, did someone hurt you?” Levi asked softly, startling you.

You’d never heard Levi use that tone of voice before. It almost sounded like he was talking to a frightened small animal. Which, in some respects, was what he was doing, but still. You swallowed hard and stared at him, (e/c) locked with steel. You contemplated telling him or not. No one knew what was going on, not even Max.

“________...,” Levi’s soft voice brought your full attention back to him, “Please, tell me what’s going on….”

You broke. Tears began to form in your eyes and chocked sobs began to escape your throat against your will. Levi quickly, but gently, pulled you against him and let you sob into his chest. After some time had passed, you finally calmed down enough to speak.

“My father….” You whispered, voice hoarse.

“What?!” Levi uttered, shocked.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and rested your head against his chest before elaborating.

“My father has been abusing me since I was six,” you said, sniffling, “It wasn’t as bad when I was little because my brothers were still at home so he couldn’t really do much, but then they went to college when I was eight. That’s when it started to get bad.”

“Why would he do this to you?” Levi asked.

You smiled bitter sweetly and said, “He never wanted me. He only wanted sons, but my mother wanted me. But she died when I was six, so I lost my only real protection. Then when my brothers left, I was left completely defenseless.”

Levi was quiet and you looked up at him. His jaw was clenched and he looked angry.

“Levi…?” You said quietly, putting your hand on his chest.

He looked down at you and said, “When would your dad be home?”

You were confused but answered him anyway.

“He won’t be home until later… why?” You said.

“Because you’re going to go grab a bag of your stuff, and then you’re coming to live with me,” he said, his arms tightening around you, “No arguments. I'm not going to let that bastard hurt you anymore.”

You stared at him with wide (e/c) irises and he suddenly began to blur. You burred your face in his chest and began to cry again.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered into your (h/c) hair, “I promise….”

“Thank you…!” You cried, nuzzling into his chest.

You sat there for a little while longer before heading to your house. You threw what little belongings you had into a bag and left with Levi. He drove you to his apartment and he settled you into the spare room he had.

“Why do you live alone?” You asked, looking at him as you sat on the couch.

“My parents decided that they wanted to go back to France, but I didn’t want to leave,” he said, bring one knee up to his chest, “I was already eighteen at the time so they decided to get me an apartment so I could finish out high school and figure out what I want to do with my life.”

You looked at him and thought he looked a bit sad. You smiled faintly and leaned your head on his shoulder. He rested his on top of yours and you just sat there in a comfortable silence until you both decided it was time to turn in for the night.

“If you need me for what ever reason, just come in,” he said, leaning on the doorframe to his room, “Chances are, I might still be awake. I don’t sleep very well most nights so it won’t be any trouble.”

You nodded and smiled at him before going into your own room. You changed into your pajamas and crawled into bed. You closed your eyes and were able to fall asleep fairly quickly.

Your eyes shot open and you sat up in bad, your breathing ragged. You took a shaky deep breath and closed your eyes, only to gasp and quickly open them. All you saw was his face when you closed your eyes. You took another deep breath before getting out of bed and heading across the hall. You quietly opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind you as quietly as possible.

“________?” Levi asked, sitting up slightly.

It looked like he had been awake, so you didn’t feel that bad about coming to him. You walked over to his bed and sat on the edge. He sat up all the way and put a hand on your shoulder. As soon as he did, you lunged at him and buried you face in his neck, your body shaking from the fear.

“Nightmare?” He asked softly, stroking your slightly messy hair.

You nodded and shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable. He pulled you down to lay beside him and cuddled your shaking body against his, trying to take your fear away. No matter what he did however, your body wouldn’t stop trembling. So he gently took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted your face upwards to face him.

“I told you that I would protect you didn’t I?” He whispered, slowly leaning closer.

When you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance between your lips and kissed you. You kissed him back after the initial shock wore off. He pulled back after a few seconds and rested his forehead against yours.

“That felt good….” He muttered, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips, tickling yours.

“Yeah….” You breathed your agreement.

“Be my girl?” He asked quietly.

You smiled and kissed him again.

“I don’t think it’s even a question….” You said, kissing him again.

He chuckled and nipped your lip, kissing you deeper this time. He was defiantly not letting anything or anyone hurt you now.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Joshua ____(l/n)____?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“I’ll explain in a minute. First let me get your brother on the line as well.”

“Hello?”

“Mason ____(l/n)____?”

“Yes?”

“Ok, good. Now that I have you both, my name is Levi Ackerman. I'm your sister’s boyfriend. We recently got together, she hasn’t been hiding it from you. But that’s beside the point. The reason I called you both is because I need your help. ________ is currently living with me because your father has been abusing her. I have pictures of the bruises he left even.”

“He what?!”

“That bastard! I knew something was wrong when I’d call and she’d be crying!”

“Like I said, I need your help. I know it’s short notice, but if you could make it out here within the next few days, I want to get him where he belongs.”

“I’ll be on the next flight there.”

“I’m in the car in an hour.”

“See you soon.”

You heard a knock on the door and got up to answer it.

“Joshua, Mason?!” You exclaimed, extremely confused.

They both enveloped you in a hug together, confusing you even further.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, hugging them back.

“I called them.” Levi said from behind you.

“What?” You were now completely confused.

“We’re putting that basted where he belongs,” Mason said, clearly upset, “Why did you never tell us?!”

Your eyes widened and you turned to Levi.

“You told them?!” You asked.

He nodded and said, “I need their help to put him where he belongs to make sure you’re truly safe.”

You sighed and sat down on the couch. You listened to them plan and scheme about how to get your father arrested. You rolled your eyes and finally spoke up.

“How about we just go file a report with the police,” you said, looking at them, “We’ve got plenty of pictures of the bruises and I’ve got some scars I can show them.”

They looked at each other and seemed to agree. So they took you down to the station and you did just that. And they arrested your father. You wouldn’t have to deal with him for a very, very long time.

It’s been a few months since all the excitement of getting your father arrested. You and Levi graduated along with your friends. And speaking of your friends, you and Levi set up Max and one of Levi’s friends Mike, so they were having their own summer adventure. But as for you and Levi, you were traveling around Europe together for the summer. And in the fall, you’d both be starting at a university in France.

“Oi, brat, why are you staring out the window?” Levi asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You looked at him and smiled. You went over to him and startled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Because I had some stuff on my mind,” you said, kissing his neck, “But, I think I know something else that’s on my mind now.”

Levi smirked and flipped you over so he was hovering over you.

“Great idea.” He said, nipping at your neck, trailing his tongue lower.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled.

“I love you ________....” Levi murmured against your chest, placing a kiss to your heart.

“I love you too Levi….”

[emcon-imagines]

Finally Okay, Pt. 3

part 1, part 2

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characters: Wanda Maximoff x reader words: 2194 summary: reader and Wanda are close friends, one joining the Avengers and one going rogue after Sokovia. But after one terrible night, Wanda is forced to face the reality of your mission for revenge. a/n: ahhh fingers crossed please don’t let this flop lmao I worked real hard on this part and you can catch up if you haven’t read parts 1 + 2 yet!!! but anyways surprise and merry christmas!!!!! it’s like a little additional gift to you guys and the conclusion to this trilogy. tagging: @moonlit-imagines​ and @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​, who both expressed interest in a part 3!

You sat with Wanda for a long time in containment, saying nothing, but her familiar presence calming you down enough that your stomach started to churn less and less, and the shaky, panicky feel began to dissipate into exhaustion.

“You still with me?” Wanda murmured as you laid into her, head resting against her shoulder. She squeezed your hand again, trying to get a read on where your mind was. “You seem better.”

You lifted your head up as the door opened, simultaneous with the mechanical beeping of it unlocking. Wanda seemed to sense you tense and she didn’t let go of your hand, even as you clenched hers harder.

“Y/N?” one of the SHIELD agents in the doorway asked. “We’re going to have you stop by the lab to get checked out one more time, and then someplace more permanent for you to sleep tonight.”

You looked at Wanda, uncertainty etched across your face, as you mouthed the word “lab?” with the fear unmistakable in your eyes.

“They’re gentle,” Wanda said. “They’re not going to hurt you. Probably just make sure...” she nodded at the bandage on your stomach. “Well, you really tore yourself up there,” she said, almost ruefully.

You considered her words and finally nodded, sliding off the cot and wincing at the muted stab in your side, still hugging the shawl over your shoulders, as if it could offer some sort of protection from the unknown. When you got to the door, the SHIELD agent waved over to Wanda, who had gotten up as well, but was still standing on the other side of the room.

“Coulson asked if you could stay with y/n,” the agent said. “It’s better than...” he trailed off, glancing down at you and then back at Wanda, who was glaring at him.

“Sedating them again?” Wanda asked. She stepped over. “That’s what HYDRA used to do. You scared them, working on them while they were asleep.”

“That wasn’t my call,” the agent said, quietly. “But... I’ll let Coulson know.”

“It won’t happen again,” Wanda said, and you weren’t sure if she was talking to you or the agent.

The journey to the lab was quick, though you couldn’t ignore the stares from other agents, and the way many of them stopped walking completely to let the five of you, the main agent accompanied by two others, pass. You tried to look braver than you felt, standing up straight, putting up the same mask of anger that had helped you survive for so many years with HYDRA, your eyes dark and your eyebrows furrowed, mouth in a hard slash.

It was clear that Wanda wasn’t comfortable around the agents either, perhaps she would have preferred Natasha or Clint be the liaison instead, but if she did feel that way, she didn’t say anything about it. She’s here, isn’t she? Not her hero friends. Wanda came.

There were only two people in the lab when you arrived, but it seemed busy enough for ten times that amount of people. Not like any of the labs you had seen before. It was well-kept, though lived-in, a mug of tea here, a sweatshirt tossed over a chair there. Work covered the lab benches; you could only begin to guess what SHIELD was working on.

“Hi,” the new woman said, and gestured to a medical station set up behind a glass partition. “You can sit right over there, I’m just finishing something up first.” The others agents stopped at the door, not going any further, and you stepped into the lab cautiously, as if breathing could break something.

“Fitz, where did you put my notes when you moved them?” the woman asked. “Was two tables not enough space?”

“I put them over there,” Fitz said, pointing to where you had been directed to sit.

“Oh.”

You said down on the edge of the cot just as the woman, who you realized must have fixed you up earlier, joined you, finding her notes. “Sorry about that,” she said. “We’re all over the place today, Fitz is trying to build a... well... never mind, that’s a whole other thing.” She pulled a tool off a shelf, something that looked like a gun and you flinched. “Mind if I take your temperature again?” she asked. “I want to see if it’s gone down at all.”

You relaxed and nodded, picking at the paper unrolled on the cot underneath you. She held the thermometer up to your head and read it when it beeped.

“Hmm. You’re still a bit warm. How are you feeling?”

“Y/N runs warm,” Wanda interrupted, and you looked over to see her leaning against one of the lab benches, her arms crossed. “Something to do with their powers. It’s why they’re always cold, too.”

“So, you radiate it all out?” Simmons asked. “And so it’s like you leave none for yourself?” She smiled a little as she put the thermometer away and scribbled a note down. “That’s neat.” She glanced back at you. “I mean, it’s just interesting is all.”

“Thanks.”

Simmons raised an eyebrow at Wanda, they talk?, before picking up her notes and writing something else down. “When was the last time you had a doctor’s appointment?” she asked. “I mean, a real one.”

“Um...” you glanced down at your feet. “Never?” You had managed to avoid doctor’s all these years, even the time you had the flu, or the time you nearly cut your own finger off trying to cook. Glancing at the nasty scar on your thumb, you began to think that maybe that was a mistake. From the other side of the room, you heard Wanda’s exasperated sigh.

“Right, okay,” Simmons said. “Well, I’m going to try to make this as painless as possible, as long as... well... you’re going to have to promise to help me out here. Have you eaten yet? I can send Fitz to the cafeteria to get you something to eat while we talk. What do you like?”

“I’m a bit occupied at the moment,” Fitz said from the other side of the lab, earning a hard look from Simmons, under which he finally relented. “Sorry, what do they like?”

Simmons kept her promise, which surprised you, and you kept yours, which maybe surprised you even more. She checked on your wounds and changed your bandages, tried to find out if anything else hurt that she had missed when you arrived, and only gave you one shot-- a flu shot-- of all things. And you finally ate, picking at the layers of the sandwich Fitz brought, eating one ingredient at a time, swatting Wanda’s hand away when she tried to steal one of the apple slices Fitz brought as well.

“You’re not going to share?” she asked, nudging you and giggling.

“No.”

“Brat,” she said, but she was still smiling. “After all this, you won’t even share one?” You saw red magic light up around her fingers and you clutched the bag of cut apples closer to you, knowing what she would try. “What if I--”

“Nope.”

Simmons’ exam ended shortly after that, and the SHIELD agents returned to escort you to your next destination, which the scientists had referred to holding. It was a stark white room, the walls made up of the same material your original containment cell had been made of, but this room was warmly lit, with a real bed, couches, a desk, and even a television screen. There were clean clothes laid out on the bed, grey sweatpants, socks, and a grey SHIELD sweatshirt, heavier than you expected. Warmer. There was a bathroom, too, already stocked with tiny soaps and shampoos, and you finally got to scrub the blood and soot off of yourself, turning the water as hot as possible and watching the grit run down the drain.

“Better?” Wanda asked, when you got out of the shower, examining the sweatshirt you had changed into. “You look better.”

You nodded, flopping onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling, just as the door opened again, and Wanda stood up from the couch to see who was there. “Hey, how are you?” Phil Coulson asked, stepping through the doorway, tablet in hand. You looked at Wanda, who gestured back to Coulson.

“He asked you, not me.”

“Tired,” you said. “Um... but all right.”

“I’ll take that as a good thing,” Phil said sitting down on the couch. He turned to Wanda. “Natasha dropped some things off for you if you want to grab them and clean up as well.”

You realized that Wanda still had blood, your blood, under her fingernails, and that she had been there the entire time you had. Did she not even leave this place once? When Wanda did step out, you sat on the edge of the bed, eying Coulson, still trying to figure him out. Is this someone I can trust?

“This won’t be too long,” he said. “I’m going to let you rest. I just wanted to talk with you a little more. Is that all right?” When you didn’t respond, he went ahead, glancing down at something on the tablet. “So, Simmons mentioned something in her notes here about your temperature readings. I’m assuming that has something to do with your abilities? Can you walk me though that?”

You paused, staring at your hands. “Um. They said I run hot. I heat things up with my hands... usually.... but sometimes without even touching them.”

“Is that how the fire started?” he asked softly, and you nodded.

“I didn’t want that to happen,” you said. “No one was supposed to be there.”

“I know you didn’t,” Coulson said, and you blinked, surprised. “Powers can be unpredictable. Scary, if you’re new to them, or if you were never trained.”

“I was trained to burn things,” you said. You remembered the trials, trial after trial, leaving you colder and weaker each time, unable to stop shivering, curled up against the glass wall of your cell, where a heat from the lab had warmed the glass enough for you to sleep.

“Wanda told me,” Coulson said. “I’m sorry for what you went through there.” He took another read through of his notes. “We’re going to bring someone else in to do a psych eval tomorrow morning. He’s one of the best, even helped our own. I think you’ll benefit from talking to him. And we’ll go from there. How does that sound?”

You nodded once, and Coulson stood back up, adjusting his suit as he looked around the room. “Get some rest for tonight. Simmons might be by a few times to check on you, and if you need anything in the meantime--” he pointed at a button under the screen “--call button is right there.” Just as he prepared to leave, the door unlocked and opened again, Wanda stepping back in, having cleaned up and changed herself, dropping a duffle bag by the door. She and Coulson nodded at each other as he left, the lights in the room dimming in his wake, something more suitable for sleeping.

You leaned back on the bed, sinking into the pillows, though the constant undercurrent of anxiety prevented you from relaxing completely. “Can you stay?” you mumbled, not daring to ask the question any louder, afraid of the answer. “Just until I fall asleep.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up, too,” Wanda said, crossing the room and sitting down on the other side of the bed. “Okay?” You had pulled her shawl over yourself again and she reached over to tuck it tighter around you, you pulling away for a moment.

Oh.

It was love. All of it, all around you, you realized, was love. Something you had been certain you didn’t deserve, especially in places when there was so little to go around, acts of kindness existing only in mercy. 

Wanda paused, waiting for you, as your heart beat a little faster. It was too much, sometimes, overwhelming to think about, these people with so much love to give, relentless until you were ready to accept that perhaps you deserved some peace after all. Not despite your past, but because of it.

Finally, you laid back down on the bed, leaning into her, tucking yourself in close to her warmth, sighing as a burden was lifted off of you. “There you are,” Wanda said, her hand rubbing your back as she pulled you in closer, and this time, you didn’t feel like you had to escape. It was okay. You were okay.

“Thank you,” you whispered, shutting your eyes, already drifting off.

Wanda planted a kiss on your forehead and you smiled in response, the first smile she had seen in a long time from you. It was safe to sleep here. There was enough warmth to go around. Your head rested in the crook between her arm and her chest as she laid back as well, her hoping maybe you finally would sleep peacefully for the first time in a long time.

“I’ll be right here in the morning,” she repeated again, the last thing you heard before you finally rested, finally okay at last.

[sadachmesarthim]

yes this is a rewrite, feel free to fry my ass on anon about it.

content: starker being mean to each other, peter parker has Supportive Friends™, tony has daddy and mommy issues, quentin beck is a Mean Boss™, smoking, secondhand smoke.

word count: 3.0k

square filled: coffee shop au  -> link to playlist here

part two is here!

a little vocab lesson before continuing: mobster = really high up in the chain of command for this group of coffee shops. they go around training new hirees, and often decide who gets to move up the line of command. they get to travel on company money, and are very well respected in the workplace. mobsters usually come in groups - siblings, hires from the same groups, etc. 

Tony didn't like Richland.

Sure, okay, it was a serious step up from Federal Way. He was free from his parents, he could do whatever he wanted in a house all to himself, no one knew who he was - it was a refreshing change, one he definitely needed now that he was graduated, all grown up.

He'd moved back east about two months ago. He'd wanted to get as far away from home as possible, stretch his legs - he went under the guise of missing his grandma, wanting to go to school. He wasn't a terrible liar, either. Howard and Maria'd eaten it up, encouraging him to go as soon as he could.

"If you go now, you could get there in time for summer classes. Maybe even get a job before they stop hiring seasonally. You never know, but you might as well try!"

So here he was. Still jobless, still not yet enrolled in school. Enjoying his time in the (now autumn) sunshine, biding his time before he ran out of money. He'd planned well - he had enough cash to keep him covered for a while, as long as he didn't go blowing it.

He'd blown it.

He was a sucker for good coffee, though, and he missed Outback. He'd worked at one back home for almost a year before he left, and now... now, it was like an itch he couldn't scratch - he needed the interaction, needed to go make friends. He was too much of a social butterfly.

Yet again, he found himself in his truck, on the way to the nearest stand. He was pathetic, really. Here he was, wasting more money on coffee, when he could be out hiking or climbing or... literally doing anything else.

He knew it was worth it the second he pulled in. The cutest kid was running lines that day - shorts hugging his tight ass deliciously, in a way Tony knew his operator would get in trouble for if a Mobster or Coach saw.  Christ, they lettin' just anyone work here now, that it?

He had to keep his thoughts to himself, though - the kid had just finished the cars in front of him, and was headed straight for Tony, iPad in hand. He took a breath, putting on his best poker face. He needed a fucking cigarette.

"Hey handsome! Welcome to Outback, what're we drinkin' today?" Shit, he's cute. All bright and cheery - it might be fake, sure, customer service voice and all - but boy, did he play the part well. All big eyes and wide smile. He looked up at Tony expectantly, right hand hovering over the screen of the runner iPad. Shit, he still has to order something.

"Hi, just a small iced white vanilla breve please." Tony watched as the kid pressed a few spaces on the tablet, shocked at how fluidly he moved. Tony'd never seen him at this location before, but he obviously knew what he was doing. Location transfer, maybe? Mobster? He wasn't sure.

"Perfect! I've got you in - anything else, love?" God, he was too much. There's no way this was just the sickly facade Outback enforced - no, this was all him. "Nah, I'm okay. I'm paying card today, too." He reached his hand out for the tablet, wanting to tip this kid specifically.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, this card reader's broken. The one up at the window's working though! My girl Maia'll be up there waiting for you!" He turned with a smile, skipping off to the next car.

Jesus, who was this kid? And what did Tony have to do to see him again?

•|||•

Return an application, apparently.

Maia, the girl at the window, had let him know that they were hiring. He didn't have to feign interest - he had relevant experience, could work his way up if he needed to - and he'd get to see the mystery boy again. She'd ran and grabbed a small stack of papers for him, which he dutifully filled out and brought back a couple of hours later.

The closing shift lead had briefly interviewed him, practically giving him the job on the spot. Apparently she'd met his sister on a Mob trip, before - it paid to have connections, but damn... someone in town already knew who he was. Oh well. Not a big deal. These were still new people, fresh faces - he could make a clean reputation for himself, a fresh start...

It was exactly what he needed. And if he needed to use a bit of his influence with his sister to get it... so be it.

•|||•

"Emma, please, just... don't be a dick when he calls you. I need this job, it'll be good for m-"

"Save it, Tony. I don't want your excuses. If I say I'll do it, will you leave me alone?" She was being unusually short with him. Fuck. She and Rhodey were fighting again.

"Yes, yes, anything. Thank you so much." He was met with a bored sigh.

"Whatever, dude. I'll put in a good word. Talk to you later." She hung up before he could say anything else. Whatever - it wasn't the worst conversation he'd had with his sister, but it left a lot to be desired.

They hadn't been doing well since she & Rhodey got together. It was on-again-off-again... and they were honestly both to blame. Neither one of them was good at commitment, and it showed.

It put strain on both of their relationships with Tony, and didn't do much to help keep him in Federal Way. He sought comfort in the isolation of a new town, but it didn't seem to be helping anything.

Leaving never did, but it was really all he knew how to do.

•|||•

Peter hadn’t been at Outback long, but he’d enjoyed every minute of it.

He’d gotten hired almost immediately after graduation, not wanting to waste a second of his summer not making money. It was a bit of a difficult transition - he wasn’t a big fan of Beck, his boss, and training was really overwhelming. But after he’d hit that twelve week mark... it’s like something just clicked.

He was a whiz on bar, he was making friends right and left. He and Maia’d even gone to get tattoos together a couple weeks ago during a flash sale. He was getting faster and faster at running cars, he knew almost all of his regular customers. He genuinely felt like part of the family.

That didn’t really change when Beck hired a new group, either. There weren’t too many of them, helping keep their group small. They’d been spending a bit of time in the stand here and there, going over the rules, the ins and outs of making coffee, taking their menu test.

The three he was introducing today seemed okay enough. He just barely caught the tail end of Beck's “congrats on becoming a full employee” monologue before the man set the fresh meat loose. Not that they could really go far - it was maybe a good spit's distance from corner to corner. But, if it helped them get their bearings...

He was pulled from his thoughts before they could take off too far. “Hey, Parker! Come say hi to the green beans!”

•|||•

The red haired girl was nice enough. They'd introduced themselves, exchanged snap usernames, gushed over Peter's tattoos, and bonded over the typical new job anxiety. He'd forged a sweet new friendship with Bri, and was hopeful she'd stick around. He'd seen people like her get chewed up and spit out in this industry, and he liked her.

The tall guy... was pretty boring, actually. He stayed on his phone for the majority of the introduction, opting to ignore Peter entirely. It was fine - he'd probably be gone by the end of the month. Not like they’d miss him - he barely passed his menu test, from what Peter’d overheard.

Then came Mr. Short, Dark, and Brooding - Tony, apparently - Peter remembered him from a few weeks ago. He’d given Peter a poorly concealed once-over, tried to take the runner iPad from right out of his hands... if he wasn’t so attractive, Peter’d pin him for a fuckboy.

Despite how much he looked like he’d wanted to back then, when given the opportunity, he didn’t really engage with Peter. He apparently wasn’t the type to keep eye contact, go in for a hug, make small talk. 0 for 2. Disappointing. Oh well. That’s fine - Peter was perfectly content as the only guy at this location (sans Beck, of couse). Too much testosterone didn’t foster a healthy working environment, and they all knew it.

The girls, especially. They all gushed over Peter - apparently being the token gay guy in the stand somehow made him exempt from the targetted harassment. Nearly every guy they’d hired had left within 9 months - coffee was definitely a female-dominated field.

Peter was excited to see how these two fared.

•|||•

The tall guy was gone within a week. Didn’t even leave notice, just up and stopped showing up to his shifts. Not that it was the end of the world - he was still in his probationary period, so he wasn’t even making tips. No sweat off Peter’s back.

Bri did really well, in comparison. Beck was unusually strict with her - lashing out during her initial first shifts, generally being a hardass. It was unnecessary, and everyone knew it - Peter often found himself having fridge or bathroom meetings with her to help calm her down. But she kept showing up, kept trying, and after a few weeks she was doing just as well as Peter and the rest of them.

Tony was even better. Peter’d heard through the grapevine that he’d worked at a different location when he was still in school. Why he had to go through training again was lost on Peter - Beck tended to be thorough when it came to these kinds of things, but Tony was arguably more experienced than some of Peter’s coworkers...

Apparently, it’s because he wasn’t one to play nice.

•|||•

It took them quite a while to work together. Peter’d found himself getting the shit end of the schedule, working 7-1s religiously. It was by far his least favorite shift - dealing with the morning and lunch rushes were nothing, if not exhausting. But he pushed through, and finally got a say in what he worked - a very comfortable 5 - close.

Tony seemed to fill the between-shift gap - 2-8 was his jam. He liked working later, but still getting home before dark. Apparently being a newbie meant drawing the short straw sometimes -

And the short straw just so happened to be barring with the twink from a few weeks ago.

He hadn’t been... avoiding him. Tony just... didn’t like the way he worked. Peter was flighty, always moving. It irked him... he was just so much, it made Tony’s head hurt. If he wasn’t so engaging he might actually piss Tony off - but he knew the kid had nothing but good intentions, and that made it bearable.

It didn’t translate to the bar, though.

It seemed nearly impossible for them to work well together. Tony’d been assigned the milk station for the last three hours of his shift - a long stretch, but nothing he hadn’t done before. Peter was on shots almost the entire time. Poor kid.

Tony’s sympathy ran dry when they actually began working. They were almost always on top of each other - Peter crowding his space and trying to do too much. It grated on Tony’s every nerve, made it difficult to function. Peter didn’t seem to notice at all - or if he did, he didn’t care.

It came to a head when Peter went for the fridge. 

It was a pretty well-known rule that the person on shots doesn’t reach for the fridge. Not only was it too far away from their position on machine, it requires them to go behind their bar partner, which is dangerous in a shop this small. Hot liquids, ice, sugar... they can cause spills, burns, falls... 

So of course this dumbass goes for the fridge. Opens the door. Grabs a can of cold brew with his bare hands before turning back around. 

And running into Tony face first. 

This would have been fine if it were literally anything other than a cold brew. This would have been fine if Tony wasn’t holding a fresh drink! But no - the universe lined things up just right, laid out the most well-planned disaster. 

As they made contact, Peter’s hands flew up in shock, dropping the very pressurized can. It exploded as it hit the concrete, spraying nitrogen and foam-y coffee all over them. This caused Tony to let go of the drink in his hand, coating both of their lower halves in hot, sticky milk. 

It was picturesque, the mess they made. 

Tony looked up at Peter in absolute shock. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Why were you in the fridge?!” 

“I was just trying to help! You were busy, I figured I could-” Tony cut him off before he filled the stand with more hot air. Not in the mood for his bullshit excuses. 

“I don’t care how busy you think I am - you ask before doing something outside of your station. Do you understand me?” The look in his eye was one Peter’d never seen before - it probably should have scared him, but frankly, it just made him angrier. 

“Who do you think you are to be giving me orders?” He was huffy, he could feel his cheeks burning red. He was an angry crier, and knew he was struggling to control his face. 

“My sister’s a Mobster. I think I know what I’m doing.” Oh. That explained it - his experience, his proficiency on bar... why he was such a dick. Peter’d never met a Mobster he liked, and if this guy was related to one... shit just made sense. 

•|||•

He spent the remaining few hours of Tony’s shift hiding in the back. They were better off separated, and neither complained. Tony could handle himself up front, and Peter was productive enough. He had chores to do, dishes to finish, the closing list to start... Getting an early start benefitted everyone. 

By the time 8 rolled around, the atmosphere in the stand had relaxed. They’d both had a chance to clean up, the girls on window had helped ease the tension with casual conversation. Bri had been running, and Peter spent plenty of time in the back with her, hushed enough to avoid the ears a few feet away. 

“I don’t see why he gets to walk all over us. You’ve been here longer, and the attitude isn’t necessary.” She was sitting on the edge of the sink, goldfish making their way to her mouth between words. “You know I don’t like him. I don’t see why you keep trying to be nice.”

Peter sighed. He knew she was right. “I just... I don’t want anyone here to feel left out, or like I did at the beginning. Beck can be mean... I want all of you to feel welcome.” It wasn’t a lie, either - he’d made a point to make everyone feel at home, to make this stand a family. Until Tony showed up, he’d been doing a great job. 

“I know buttercup. Just... don’t go bending over backward for someone that won’t even look you in the eye.” With that she hopped down, ready to clock out. 

Tony shuffled past them both, excited to do the same. Maia’d taken over the bar for him, alleviating him just before the four minute window was up. He didn’t even excuse himself, just inserting himself in their personal space without concern. 

Bri shot Peter a look before she left. Talk to him! 

He opted for bravery. He deserved an apology for Tony’s harsh words earlier today, and he was going to get it. 

He checked the cameras before walking back, making sure Maia wasn’t gonna wind up swamped if this took longer than necessary. Tony was collecting his things - he had to do this fast. 

“Hey, listen.” Tony looked up, unamused. “I know we didn’t exactly have a good shift, and yeah I’m partly to blame for that... but Beck doesn’t really vibe with hostility, and the girls...” 

Tony cut him off halfway through. “What, it makes them uncomfortable? They don’t like it when a man takes charge, has a little outburst? Sheesh, y’all really are a mess.” What the fuck?

“Okay, seriously. I tried to be nice. You owe me, and the rest of us, a serious apology for today, or I’m going to Quentin about it. It’s not that hard to say you’re sorry, Tony.” Good job Parker, firm boundaries. 

“I’m sorry? Sorry for what, doing my job? Fuck that, man. I’m out of here.” He opened the door and left, skipping past an oncoming car and heading toward his own. 

Peter followed him. It was stupid, sure - but he needed to assert himself here. This was his stand, his home - and he was damned if he was going to let some... some asshole trample all over his home like this.

He caught up to Tony quickly, stopping him before he could open the driver’s door. “Why are you such an asshole? The girls are obsessed with you, you clearly have a leg up against everyone else in your group. There’s no reason for you to be acting like this, dude. You’ve been here all of what, a month?” 

Tony took a long drag from his cigarette before answering. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Now be a good little closer, and run inside. Finish your shift.” He exhaled the smoke into Peter’s face, getting into his car and driving away without another word. 

What a douchebag. 

[stories-by-rie]

Chapter 3 - Heart of Silver

Back in the present, Evelyn and Ariel search the house of the dead granny in order to find clues on how to stop the heart of silver curse.

words: 3614 || masterlist

Evelyn pulled in on the house’s driveway. Now that she knew that no one was living there anymore, she couldn’t deny the ghostly aura that hung on it. The windows were dirty, the geraniums in the windows dead and brown. The driveway was growing weeds all over, so unlike the tidy places of most older people. Even the magnolia tree looked glum now.

    “The whole house feels like death,” Ariel mumbled as they walked closer. “Must have been a pretty rich lady, though. Didn’t you say she didn’t have any money?”

    “It’s an old woman. She owned the house and couldn’t bear to separate from it. Believe me, she told me for nearly a whole hour how she wouldn’t move out because she couldn’t see it in someone else’s hands. The pension was just enough to cover for house and food, so she didn’t have much extra.”

    They came to a halt before the door that was cordoned off by the police, but Evelyn swiftly cut through the sticker.

    “You’ve become unscrupulous, huh,” Ariel said and stepped in behind her.

    “It’s your terrible influence,” Evelyn replied and turned on the lights.

    “This was probably a nice house once,” Ariel noted as they looked around. The ceiling was dark brown mahogany, the floor white marble tiles that looked quite expensive, but were covered with a great Persian carpet. Overall it seemed to have been a very grandiose house judging by its interior alone. There were shadows on the walls, where paintings or photos must have hung -- which perhaps had been sold in time. This was an impression that wasn’t new to Evelyn, as weren’t the spiderwebs in the corners and the dust on the decoration.

    “They probably used to have a lot of money back in the day. Judging from the silverware alone,” Evelyn agreed and pointed towards the dining room, the door still open from the day before. Ariel nodded along and they walked over the echoing tiles, over the old dusty rugs, quieter. There was a simple chandelier over the dinner table, dipping the small room in yellow light, spider webs between its bulbs.

    Evelyn walked over to the sideboard, opened the drawer where the silverware was neatly stashed on red velvet.

    “Fancy,” Ariel mumbled and looked at the spoons and knives and forks. “So which of these is the culprit?”

    Evelyn looked down, face blank. “I don’t remember.”

    “Didn’t you say that there was some kind of evil aura?”

“Very much so. It only missed evil green sparkles or something. But it just looked like a fork. Maybe too much like a fork? It definitely stood out somehow.” Evelyn looked down at the forks. None of it was missing, the cutlery was still neatly put in its satin cushion, but she still couldn’t make out the one that had been the medium to curse her. She still remembered the unsettling feeling that had overcome her at the sight of the whole drawer the last time around, shivers running down her spine. All of that was missing now.

    “Maybe it is because I sent the granny off? Or because the curse got activated?” she mused. Ariel crossed their arms before their chest.

“That’s both possible. Curses work in a whole lot of different ways, there are dozens of various classifications for how they are transmitted alone. If the medium isn’t working once the curse gets activated, and doesn’t even show signs of the curse, then it means that either the curse gets transmitted through the victim, or that the curse medium is randomised. Any kind of object could be the medium now if it’s not you.”

    Evelyn felt her limbs get heavier at those words. It was not the silver – not yet. It was the hope that left her in that moment. Somehow, it had been so easy in her mind. Ariel knew their curses. They knew how to break them.

    “So, what do we do no-”

    Evelyn didn’t even get to finish her question before Ariel took the first fork and poked their finger on it.

    “What are you doing?” her voice jumped an octave higher as Ariel tried the next one.

    “These aren’t exactly sharp, did it bleed when you poked your finger?”

    “No. Sort of? There was liquid silver when I pressed it. But- Why are you-”

    “Maybe it is just a hidden medium. Sometimes, when curses are especially deadly, to make sure the whole power goes into just that one victim, the medium hides its potential so that it won’t curse two people at the same time.”

    “Ah.” Evelyn stared at Ariel as they kept poking themselves with the forks. “So can it still curse you then?”

    “Depends. Potentially.”

    It was late and Evelyn was exhausted, so it took a while for her to understand those words’ meaning. Once she did, however, she quickly grabbed the fork out of Ariel’s hand and put it back.

    “Are you mad? What if you get cursed too?” With horror she looked at a reasonably startled Ariel who just shrugged.

    “Would definitely keep me motivated.” Their gaze dropped to Evelyn’s neck, then wrists where the dark silver veins were well hidden by her hoodie.

    “No. If you get sick you won’t be able to cure me anymore. You stay alive, preferably.” Evelyn closed the drawer and pinched the bridge of her nose.

    “Then how do you think I am going to find the right fork if it is just hiding?” At this point Ariel sounded a little exasperated, a fake smile on their dark purple lips.

    “Don’t you have some strange curse detector of sorts?”

    Ariel just shook their head. “Only nolly-powder and that’s really just for our last resort, okay? There are really, drastically awful side-effects, and we should not lose time because of them.” 

It was quiet in the dining room, only the platter of the rain against the windows -- it sounded spitefully soft now. The quiet of a house not lived in. Consequently, it was easy to hear the door fall shut.

    Both Evelyn and Ariel whipped around toward the back of the room, where the door was still wide open as they had left it.

    “Maybe above us?” Evelyn wondered with a toneless voice.

    “Did you not say you sent the granny off?” Ariel asked instead. They glanced at each other with the same uncertain look in their eyes.

    “I am really tired. I would honestly be happier if this was a burglar, and not a ghost. Or a Mare. Seriously, I couldn’t even handle an Elwetritsch today.”

    “Isn’t that last one just some super shy chicken with antlers?” Ariel had turned back to the forks and continued poking their finger.

    “Please don’t underestimate chicken nor antlers. But yes. They also can’t shut doors,” Evelyn said and sighed deeply. Maybe, if she ignored any kind of noises for long enough they would eventually disappear by themselves.

    Certainly, getting cursed didn’t seem bad enough for one day, though. So she flinched when there followed the sound of something heavy falling over – really heavy – somewhere in the house, even if it was not close by.

    “At this point, it would make more sense if it was a burglar,” Ariel said and walked back towards the hallway. Stairs lead up to the next floor on one side, a door right underneath that had to lead into the cellar.“Hey, let’s take bets. I say it’s a burglar, you say it’s a horned chicken. Winner gets ten Euros, deal?”

    “It’s called an Elwetritsch, and also I wouldn’t make deals with dying people if I were you, Ariel.”

    “That just sounds like you have no faith in my abilities at all.” They said it like a joke, but Evelyn knew them long enough now to understand what they actually meant. The way they weren’t looking up at her when they said it was telling enough.

    “I do trust you, Ariel. You know that right?” Evelyn looked at them, and when their eyes finally met, Ariel’s crinkled. “Just, the situation is driving me a bit on edge, that’s all,” she added.

    “Mh,” Ariel hummed, not in a way that indicated that they believed her. For now she ignored it, as she did the feeling of doubt in the pit of her stomach, and focused on Ariel instead when they pointed upstairs. “Let’s check in on the Elwetritsch?”

    Evelyn nodded and followed them up the stairs. Last time she had not gone that far deep into the house, and it seemed like the old woman who had lived here didn’t either. The dust laid heavily on the old furniture, even on the ground in a way that was easy to see in the dim light.

    “Doesn’t seem like she went here often.” Ariel wiped a finger over the dust and pulled a face. “This is going to make my allergies so bad.”

    “Maybe she was too old to walk many steps. Old people have bad joints, no?” Evelyn opened the door to her side, revealing a small bathroom that looked like it was ripped straight out of a 70s decoration advert. It smelled like old water and too much soap, the tiles a shade of orange that should be banned. 

    “It would be a good place for a burglar now that the house is officially empty, just that there are no signs of a living person anywhere. Not even chicken feet in the dust.” Ariel had kneeled on the ground staring at the floor from close up and squinted at the tiles. They sneezed. 

    “Maybe the noise came from the cellar then,” Evelyn wondered and walked over to the next door. Behind it, there was a children’s room. Posters of pop bands from the eighties still hung on the walls, the bookshelves empty but the bed still made ready. It poked at Evelyn, uncurled something inside her heart at the view.

    “She had her kid’s room ready for whenever they would come back home, it seems. That’s very nice.” And still no one had noticed the old woman’s death in such a long time. She must have been truly lonely. She walked over to the next room that was mostly empty.

    “Any chickens inside?” Ariel asked into the space – nothing answered. There were still curtains and a closet on the wall. A fainter colour in the shape of a bed on another wall.

    “This probably was the old bedroom. Maybe she had the bed brought downstairs at some point.” Evelyn walked over where there was still an impression of the bedposts in the old rug.

    “Okay, one more room, I am having the hunch that I will be disappointed regarding my expectations to see horned chicken today.”

    “Wait.” Evelyn turned back to Ariel who was just about to walk over to the next room. “Don’t you think this room feels weird?” she asked and Ariel just shrugged. But there was an undeniable shadow hiding in the corners, behind the curtains, inside the closet.

    “Feels like it does in your apartment. Like ghosts are trapped in here.”

    “There are no ghosts trapped inside my apartment,” Ariel refuted but walked closer to Evelyn as she went to open the closet door.

    “Are you good with ghosts?” they mumbled behind her back as she put her hand on the door knob.

    “Most of them. As long as I recognize them, yes.”

    Ariel chuckled a bit at her words, which gave her the courage to open the door. Behind, there was nothing. Nothing but shadows. Evelyn crunched down and now it was her turn to wipe with her finger through the dust.

    “And?”

    “Looks like there were ghosts here at least. Maybe it was the granny. There is residue mixed here. See? The grey ash?” She held her finger up for Ariel to see and they nodded.

    “Knew that dust looked funky.”

    “It’s when ghosts dissolve. They lose what could be considered their body. To the human eye it looks ashen. It also tends to darken shadows.”

    “Fascinating.”

    Evelyn looked up at Ariel with a raised eyebrow. “You had a class about this. You studied the same subjects as me at uni.”

    “That really is no reason for me to actually know this stuff.”

    Evelyn supposed that they had made a fair point and let the matter be, even if the confusion would not leave her. 

“The granny was still very lifelike when I saw her. She couldn’t have dissolved that much so quickly for us to find so much residue.”

“So, more ghosts?”, Ariel suggested and Evelyn gave a nod. There was only one more room on the floor, and she could not deny the rising anticipation. Before the door, they both hesitated, though. 

    “If there is no burglar in there, we should check the cellar next,” Evelyn mused and Ariel nodded and stepped back a bit, as if asking Evelyn to open the door first.

    “We should check the cellar either way, really. No matter what we find behind this door” she said and took a step back too. Ariel just sent their hand through their hair and pointed at the door.

    “You feel that there’s something behind this, too. Don’t you? It might be important, so we should really check this out. You go first.”

    Evelyn shook her head. “There is no reason I should go first. This is about curses, so you’re the go-to person. You should go first.”

    “It’s likelier that there’s a burglar behind this, or a horned chicken. That’s your area of expertise, so you should go first. I am far too fragile to be put in such a danger.”

    “Ariel, you were the one who went to attack a Mare back when we met, do you remember?”

    “Yes, and I have learnt and changed myself through that experience. More specifically, I have learnt that it should be you who deals with these kinds of matters. So after you.”

    Evelyn sighed deeply and then shrugged. “You know what? Fine. There’s no reason not to check out this room too. I can ignore some cold shudders down my spine, I am not that easily frightened.” Just as she put her hand on the door knob, though, the knob dissipated to dust right in front of her. Evelyn and Ariel exchanged a glance. “I feel like something doesn’t actually want us to enter this room.”

    “No shit.” Ariel stepped back even farther and then waved for her to move out of the way. Evelyn just managed to get far away enough before they tried to kick the door open. 

    A loud yelp, a loud bang when the door flew open, but nothing else happened, no monster jumping at them, no screaming ghost, and no attacking burglar either. In front of them was a simple study, filled with bookshelves and a big desk full of papers and letters.

    “I am slightly disappointed. That’s what I hurt my ankle for?” Ariel said as they stepped inside. Evelyn followed right after and couldn’t hide her slight awe. For a few seconds, the sight of the study overwhelmed her, a space that was clearly well cared for, a space that must have been so precious a long time ago. It was as obvious as it could be, small decorative figures on the shelf, a few letters framed on the wall. The only sign of neglect was the thick layer of dust on the books, even inside there. It was the few seconds in which Evelyn’s heart beat a bit lighter, forgetting about the fact that it pumped liquid silver through her body.

    The spell was broken as Ariel’s words settled in a bit late. “You hurt your ankle? Should we go and check with a doctor?” 

    “No, it’ll be fine. This is how devoted I am to curing you. Let’s check out these open letters and books, maybe we will find a clue about the curse,” Ariel whispered. They had a good point though, so they both started to work through what they could get in their hands.

    It didn’t take long until they realized what the old lady had used the study for.

    “She was looking into curses,” Evelyn said as she flipped through A Beginners Guide to Curses And How to Break Them.

    “Yeah. I found a conversation with a famous curse-broker from the sixties here. Apparently they were discussing some new phenomena that they thought were linked to curses.”

    “But she was not a curse-broker herself?” Evelyn wondered and Ariel shook their head.

    “If she had been, I would have known. Not a professional one, at least. Maybe she just was fascinated by them. Or maybe she had a victim in her family. A lot of people get into curses after one of their loved ones succumbs to one.”

    Evelyn continued to flip through the book before her until her fingers traced the photo of a boy in silver, shackled to a barn wall. A cold shudder ran through her then, made her recoil a bit before she flipped to the next page, where an equally familiar photo was printed.

    “Ariel, I am certain that this woman knew about the Heart of Silver curse. This book looks well read.”

    “You have it,” Ariel mumbled from behind her, their voice a bit thin. It nearly sounded as if they would start crying, which was a slightly unsettling thought.

    When Evelyn turned around, it was not Ariel who stood behind her. Instead, she stared right at the very dead eyes of a young boy. He was maybe fifteen years old, still already nearly as big as Evelyn herself. The startle nearly made her scream, but she could control herself just in time. Carefully, she tried to look around and find Ariel, but the boy just came closer, losing his body more and more.

    “Yes, I have. I have it,” Evelyn stuttered and held out the book to him. 

    “No. You have it,” the boy repeated, in the same manner, but he still sounded more powerful. His eyes dropped to her neck, where the black lines of her silver veins were visible the best. 

    “I do,” she agreed and pulled up her sleeves as well to bare her wrists. 

    “You should find what you really want,” the boy said with a sad tone in his voice, it sounded farther away than he was. So hollow.

    “I will. Thank you.”

    The boy still looked like there was more that he wanted to say, but when he opened his mouth next, there was no sound coming from him. Instead he just disappeared into thin air once more. Evelyn felt her whole body shake.

    “Oh! Look at what I found! That old granny won second place in a cooking show once!” Ariel yelled from across the room. Evelyn turned to them and the framed certificate in their hands.

    “Wow, you look as if you have seen a ghost.”

    Evelyn just stared at them from afar and pointed towards the dusty footprints before her.

    “There is a ghost in here.”

    The ash-like dust was still falling slowly like soft snow and landed before her feet -- the thought alone that the ghost was standing so close made her skin crawl. Ariel took off their glasses for a moment to narrow their eyes at where Evelyn was pointing.

    “I can’t see anything.”

    “The ghost is currently not showing his corporal form.”

    Ariel nodded and pushed the glasses back up their nose. “So it was a ghost, not a burglar or an Elwetritsch. At least as long as there isn’t anything weird in the cellar. What happens when neither of us win a bet? Do we both pay? You give me 10 euros and I give you 10 euros?”

    Evelyn decided to ignore the question and instead held up the book that was still in her hands.

    “The old lady knew about the curse. The ghost materialized for a moment when I talked about it. He said ‘You should find what you really want’, and then disappeared.”

    Finally, Ariel got a bit more serious and walked over.

    “That’s the same book as I have at home,” they mumbled and took it out of her hands. “So the old granny really knew some of those curses. I wonder if it’s just a coincidence, or if she was somehow tied to that curse especially.” They flipped through the pages not unlike Evelyn had done before, until they looked up again. “What is it that you really want, Evelyn?”

    “I want to get rid of this curse, of course, what do you think?”

    “What do you really want, must be the focus here, then. So, some kind of personal revelation might be the key to fulfilling the curse.”

    “Believe me, my thoughts and emotions are all set on staying alive. Maybe what he said was not related to the curse, though. It could be that he was just talking nonsense. Some ghosts lose control over their words with time,” Evelyn pointed out and with another glance at the ashen dust before her, she added, “This one has been dissolving for a long time now, from what it looks like. I bet he is the one leaving all the residue in the other rooms.”

    Ariel put down the book onto the desk and stared at the ashen footprints in front of Evelyn. “Better search the cellar then? Let’s find out a bit more about this granny that taught herself about curses, hid ghosts in her house, and cursed innocent ghost hunters after her death with her silverware, shall we?”

In lieu of nothing better to say, Evelyn agreed and carefully stepped around the ghost, out of the study.

____

previous chapter || WIP intro || masterlist || next chapter

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

Liberator

Bucky x reader

Warnings: Smut, cream pie eating, cum swapping

A/N: My sis @bluestarego​ randomly came up with an idea for this chaise and her ideas are literally the bomb, so of course I had to write it. There is unprotected sex in this story. Remember, this is fiction, so in real life package the meat before a beat. Hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count: 4.7k [My baaaddd]

********

"Ayo, tin man, where you going?" Sam asked Bucky when he saw him grabbing his jacket.

"To the bookstore. I'm tired of sitting here." He hurried to the door.

"Hold on, I'll tag along this time. Maybe we can finally look at some furniture for this place. We'll be here for at least another four months." Sam laced his shoes and followed him out.

Bucky and Sam had been undercover on this mission 3 months and counting. Nobody seemed to notice them in the small southern town. Either that or no one really cared.

Sam had been going on and on about getting furniture for the house to be more comfortable, but Bucky knew he was full of shit. Tony had given them a bunch of cash and he just wanted to shop.

"You know, you've been down to this bookstore everyday this week... What's her name?" He inquired.

"What?" Bucky tried to keep from smiling, but it was almost impossible whenever he thought about you.

"Yeah okay, you can pretend if you want. She'd better be cute or I'm gonna clown you. Does she know you're half robot?"

"Sam..."

"Relax, I'm kidding," he laughed.

When they pulled into the lot, the men jumped out, but before Sam could open the door Bucky stopped him. 

"Please do not embarrass me." He said seriously. 

"Man, move, you do enough of that on your own," Sam brushed past him. 

"Welcome! I'll be up shortly," you yelled from the back. 

You put away the stack of papers that you were going through and exited the small office. 

"Hi, how may I — oh, Mr. Stan, how are you today?" You smiled. 

"Please, call me Sebastian," he smiled. "I'm good, how are you?" 

You heard some books hit the floor. When you both looked over there, Sam was clutching a rack trying to keep it from falling completely over. 

"Guess I should go help with that. Be right back," you walked off. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. He made busy pretending to look for a new book, but he was having a hard time ignoring your laughing at all of Sam's lame jokes. He finally walked over. 

"Are you done tearing up the store?" He asked. 

"I've already apologized to the lady, Mr. Stan," he teased. 

"Do you have any new recommendations for me today?" Bucky asked, completely ignoring Sam. 

"Oh, yeah, I was telling Anthony about this new thriller we got in today. The author is pretty new to the scene, but this will definitely put her on the map. I had a chance to read it before the book was officially released." You handed him one of the books from the rack. 

"But this is new, so I can't rent it." 

"I won't tell if you won't," you winked and walked away. 

"Are you gonna ask her out?" Sam asked. 

"Are you insane?" He rolled his eyes and followed behind you. 

He handed you the book to check out. He liked your store, because it was a little different from any bookstore he was used to. You sold books, but you also rented the older ones. New books couldn't be rented for six months, but you were always willing to do buybacks for the ones in good condition. 

"Oh, I remember you telling me that you were looking for new recipes. I thought you might like this," you grabbed a cookbook, scanned it and then handed it to him. 

"That's nice, maybe he could whip something up for you," Sam patted his shoulder. 

Bucky gave him another murder glare. 

You laughed at his expression. 

"Don't worry, Mr. Stan, it's fine if you don't want to." 

"No, it's not that I don't want to —" 

"So you do?" You cut him off. 

"I uhh…" he ran his fingers through his hair. "Give me two days to find something that I think you'll like." 

"Your phone?" You held out your hand. 

He handed it to you and you put your number in and gave it back to him. 

"So I'll see you Saturday?" You gave him his bag. 

"Yeah, I'll see you Saturday," he confirmed. "But only if you promise to call me Sebastian." 

"Promise," you chuckled. 

You waved goodbye to the two men and watched them leave. You waited until they were in the car and pulling out of the lot before you picked up your phone and called your best friend. 

"You'll never guess who I have a date with this Saturdayyyy," you sang. 

"Is that weird guy who wears a leather jacket and gloves even though it's hot outside?" She said sarcastically. 

"Yes!" You replied giddy and undeterred by her sarcasm. "You have to help me find something to wear. I also need you to do my nails please?" 

She was quiet for a moment and then she bit out, "Fine, but I think he's weird and if he tries anything you'd better not hesitate to pepper spray him." 

"He's not weird. He's just different and I'm ready to find out what it is." 

Sam and Bucky walked through the furniture store. Bucky didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew he wanted it to be nice for when you came over. 

He felt like every piece he liked looked really old. He may have been 100 years old, but he didn't have to let you know that.

His eyes were suddenly drawn to this odd looking chair. It was red leather with a high sloped back, a deep arc in the middle and the bottom was low with a slope. He read the tag; Liberator: $400, but who cares? Tony could afford it. 

"You thinking about getting this?" Sam asked, seemingly coming out of nowhere. 

"What do you think? You think this is something she'd like? Should we get a few of them for the front room?" 

"Nah, this should go in your room. I think she'll like it. She's young and this is a very modern piece of furniture." He advised. 

Bucky decided to trust Sam for once. He told the salesperson that he wanted that chaise. The poor girl's face turned a bright red and she was unable to look at him. He didn't pay too much attention to it, he was used to people shying away from his presence. 

The guys picked out the rest of the furniture and headed home. Bucky noticed that Sam was giggly. More so than normal. 

"What are you so happy about?" He asked. 

"Nothing man, a guy can't just feel joy? It's a good day, Buck, we finally got some furniture. You got a really nice chair. I'm happy." He tapped on the dashboard. 

"Why'd you bring up the chair?" Bucky squinted at him. 

"Because it's a nice chair. I like the chair. You know I'm all about relaxation." 

Bucky let it go. If he hated the chair once it was delivered, he'd simply return it. No big deal. 

Bucky put the final touches on the meal he'd chosen to prepare for you. He garnished the plates, set them on the table and wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing. 

The doorbell rang. You were right on time. He gave the table a once over before coming to the door. 

"Hi," he greeted. 

"Hello there," you said. 

He just stood there and looked at you from head to toe. The white lace dress you wore hugged you perfectly at the top and flared at the waist. 

"Can I come in?" You asked, tearing him away from his thoughts. 

"Oh, yes, sorry. You look beautiful," he said as he walked you to the dining area. 

"So do you. I think the apron is my favorite part," you teased. 

He looked down and quickly removed the apron from around his waist. He blushed a little. You smiled at how cute he was. 

He pulled your chair out and pushed it in once you sat down and then took his seat. 

" It smells wonderful."

"Thank you, I tried something new tonight." 

Truthfully, everything was new for him. Bucky never did any of the cooking. That was usually Sam's thing. He only got the cookbooks to suggest things, but tonight he gave it try for you. 

You took a bite and tried to keep from gagging. You saw Bucky take a bite and immediately swallow. He didn't bother chewing it anymore. 

You took a sip of wine after you were finally able to swallow. 

"It's terrible," he said. 

"No, it's not bad at all," you absolutely lied. 

"I'll order us a pizza," he said and took your plate away. 

You just smiled at him. You didn't have the heart to tell him the food was gross, because he tried and that's what counts. 

You moved to the living room and he turned on the TV while you waited for the pizza. You noticed that he still wore a glove on his left hand and was sure to keep it away from you. You figured he was just a little shy about having a prosthetic arm. 

Once the pizza arrived, you put on some quirky movie and ate your dinner. 

"I'm sorry about this. I should've practiced the recipe a little more." 

"What? This is perfect," you told him. 

You talked with him a little. He told you that he grew up in Brooklyn. How he and Sam were college roommates and started a contracting business together.

You clung to his every word and listened without interrupting. 

"So, are you gonna give me a tour of the house?" You ask. 

"Oh, sure," he says. He slips your shoes off of your feet before walking with you hand in hand to the stairs. 

"It's not much, but this is our office space, that's Sam's room, bathroom and this is my room." He pointed. 

You flipped the switch on in the room. You were shocked and quickly walked over to the red leather chaise.

"You don't strike me as the type to have one of these," you ran your fingers over the cool leather. 

"Oh, yeah, I thought it was a very nice modern piece of furniture to have. Um, Sam actually talked me into it." 

"Did he now?" You smirked. 

"If you hate it, I can move it out of here. I won't force you to look at it," he rubbed his neck. 

"Come here," you reached out for him. 

He gave you his hand and you told him to sit down on the chair. You straddled his lap and moved your hips in a circular motion until you felt him getting hard. He rested his right hand on top of your ass and laid his head back. 

He had been so focused on his work that he'd forgotten how much he missed the feel of a woman. You leaned in close and put your lips to his ear. 

"Undo my dress," you whispered. 

He reached up and pulled the string of the bow ties on your shoulder. The thin material fell down and exposed your breasts. Your nipples immediately pebbled from the cool air. 

You scooted back a little and pulled at his shirt. 

" No," he grabbed your hands, "I um, maybe we shouldn't." 

"What's wrong?" You quiz. 

"Nothing, it's just that I…" He was lost for words. He didn't know how he would explain his arm without you freaking out. 

"Sebastian, I don't care that you have a prosthetic arm or hand. Whichever you hide under these long sleeved shirts and gloves." 

He inhaled and pressed his forehead to your chest. He was nervous. Now he remembered why it had been so long since he'd had a relationship or sex. 

"Hey," you lifted his head, "it's okay, we don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable." You kissed his lips. 

You felt his body relax as he exhaled slowly. First, he took off his glove. You ran your fingers over the shiny black metal. You then lifted the shirt a little, this time he didn't stop you. You pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. 

You lightly dragged your fingers down his neck until you reached where the metal connected to his shoulder. You traced your fingers over the lines of gold, before moving back to his scar. 

"It's connected to you, so is it fully functional?" You were curious. 

"It is," he replied. 

"That's pretty cool. The doctors must've put a lot of work and thought into this." 

"Yeah, much better than the first one I had after the war," he blurted. 

"Oh, you're a vet?" 

"Uh, yeah," he said after realizing his mistake. 

"What was your rank?" 

"Sergeant…" 

"Well, thank you for your service and sacrifice, Sergeant." You pressed your lips to his. 

He slipped his hands underneath your dress and squeezed your ass. The cool metal of his hand made your pussy clench. 

He slid a finger down your ass until he reached your folds. He rubbed your clit in a circular motion over the fabric of your thong. He moaned into your mouth when he pulled it aside and felt how wet you were getting. 

You broke the kiss, stood, unzipped his pants and pulled them down. His hard dick popped up and was at full attention. 

"Sss, ooh," you hissed as you wrapped your hand around him. 

Bucky laid back and closed his eyes. Your hands felt so good on him. You spit on his dick and rubbed it all around making sure it was coated. 

You lined him up with your opening before slowly sinking down on him. 

"Shit!" He had to brace himself and fight a mental battle, so that he wouldn't cum at this very moment. 

You were trying your best to take all of him, but he was stretching you wide and the pain was almost too much. 

Once he was able to get himself together he grabbed your hips and thrust into you. He pulled your dress over your head, so it wouldn't be in the way. 

You rolled your hips slowly and sped up as the pain turned into pleasure. You braced yourself on the balls of your feet and held to the head of the chair as best you could. 

"Bounce on this dick," he smacked your ass. 

You bounced up and down while he sucked a nipple into his mouth. He used his right hand to rub your clit. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you warned him. 

"Don't." He said and continued to rub. 

"Sebastian, I —" 

He grabbed you by the throat, "I said, no," he stuck his tongue in your mouth and continued to drive his hips upwards. 

He waited until you were right on the edge of your climax and then lifted you up. Your first instinct was to rub yourself to completion, but he stopped you. 

"I'm the only one who touches you from now on. Understand?" 

You nodded, but he wasn't satisfied. He wanted to hear you say it. 

"Yes, I understand," you said as you moved back, so he could stand. 

"Good, girl," he pulled you close to him and kissed you. 

He sat you down at the foot of the chair and dropped to his knees. You spread your legs wide and watched while he admired your pussy. Running his fingers up and down your slit. 

"Can I taste you?" 

"Yes," you moaned and laid back. 

Bucky sucked your clit into his mouth and licked you in circles. He was using his tongue to apply just the right amount of pressure to your clit. 

"You taste so good," he said. He spit on your pussy and rubbed it before sticking two fingers inside of you. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth and curled his fingers a little. 

"Ah! Fuck!" You screamed as you felt an orgasm building. 

He could feel you contracting around his fingers. Once again he kept going until you were almost there, then he pulled his fingers out and stopped sucking. 

"Why? Please!" You begged. 

"Ooh, that was only the second one and you're already begging? It's gonna be a long night, baby girl." He teased. 

He pulled you to the edge a little more, rubbed the head of his dick up and down your slit and then slid inside of you. 

You rolled your nipples in between your fingers while he fucked you. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. He'd wanted to feel you for so long. Ever since the day he wandered into your store and laid eyes on you. 

He pulled out of you and turned you on your stomach. This time switching his pace. He spread your ass cheeks apart and rolled his hips slowly as he watched his dick disappear inside of you. 

"Fuck!" He moaned as he felt himself losing control once again. 

He watched as you clawed at the chair. He could feel your pussy getting tighter and tighter. 

"Can I cum? Can I —" you were cut off by your own moans. Your body didn't wait for permission. 

He felt it. Your pussy gripped him tight and he exploded inside of you. His hips jerked as he gave you every last drop. 

He pulled out and dropped to his knees behind you. 

He smacked your ass, "Give it to me, push it out," he demanded. 

You pushed the cum mixture from your pussy and was shocked when you felt his mouth on you sucking it out. No man you'd ever been with had been so bold or comfortable. 

Once he was satisfied, he stood and turned you around to face him. He squeezed your cheeks together, so you'd open your mouth. You stuck your tongue out ready for what he was about to give. 

You were so fucking turned on, you grabbed his hand and slipped his fingers back into your pussy. 

He spit the cum into your mouth and then kissed you. Swirling his tongue around yours as he fingered you to another quick orgasm. 

He looked at his cum coated fingers and then licked them clean. You couldn't resist kissing him again and tasting yourself on his tongue. 

Bucky picked you up and carried you over to the bed. You didn't want to let him go, but you finally gave in. He walked to the bathroom and came back to clean you up and then himself. 

He got in bed with you and laid his head on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair. So many nights he'd thought about this moment. So many nights he'd thought about just being closer to you. He wished he could stay with you forever. 

He sighed. 

"What's wrong?" You asked him. 

He sat up and looked at you, he wanted to tell you the truth, but he knew that he couldn't. It would put you in danger and he couldn't risk it. 

"Nothing, everything is perfect," he smiled. 

"You have beautiful eyes, they remind me of someone, but I have never been able to quite put my finger on it."

"Thank you," he kissed you again and turned away. 

You played with his hair until he fell asleep and then you slipped out quietly. 

You were opening boxes and getting ready to stock a rack of magazines. You'd been doing well with keeping them out of the store, but a few of the teenagers kept asking and you finally caved. You let them know that you drew the line at tablets and that they were absolutely out of the question. 

You flipped through one of the fashion magazines and came across an article about Earth's mightiest heroes. You were skimming the article when you heard a knock at the door. You looked up to see Bucky waving at you. He was holding a cup holder with two coffees and a bag of donuts. 

"Hey," you greeted him. 

He returned your greeting with a soft kiss. You didn't think you could ever get tired of those kisses. 

"Doing some stocking?" 

"Yeah, I was taking a break and reading this article. I finally ordered some magazines for the kids," you picked it up and thumbed through the pages. 

Then he caught your eyes. There he was stretched across the page. The photo had a blue and purple tint to it and his hair was long, but it was most definitely him.

"You're Bucky Barnes," you said in disbelief. 

"What?" He seemed startled by your words. 

"This is you!" You shoved the magazine in his face. "I knew that you looked familiar. A freaking superhero?! You lied to me, Sebastian — Bucky, whatever your name is!" 

"No, it's not like that, I couldn't tell you." He tried to explain. "I'm on a mission. Sam and I, we're undercover." 

"Oh, you're on a mission, so get with a local to blend in a little better? Ugh! I knew you were too good to be true." You paced back and forth. 

"No, that's not true," he grabbed you, "my feelings for you are completely real."

You squinted at him, "Get off of me and get out, because you'd still be lying to me if you'd never gotten caught." You pushed him away and walked into your office slamming the door behind you. 

Bucky picked up the box of magazines and took them. If you recognized him someone else would too. He couldn't take that chance. 

He knew doing that stupid photo shoot would backfire. He didn't want to do it, but Steve and Sam talked him into it, because it was for a good cause. He knew they'd have to speed up their plans. 

He called Sam as he headed back to the house and let him know that they had to move in on the targets sooner rather than later. 

You came out of your office once you were sure Bucky was gone. You looked around to see that he had taken the boxes. 

"Great now he's a liar and a klepto," you rolled your eyes. 

You heard the bell on the door and turned around thinking it was Bucky again, but it was just one of the people who ran the laundromat a few doors down. 

"Oh, hey, Austin," you looked at your watch, "is something wrong? You know I'm not open yet." 

He didn't say anything. He just kept stalking towards you. Your fight or flight kicked into gear and you made a dash for the door. He reached out and grabbed you, but you kneed him in the balls to escape. 

You didn't get very far before you were grabbed from behind. They put a bag over your head and threw you into the back of a car where they zip tied your hands in front of you. 

"Let me go! What do you want?!" You kicked and screamed. 

"Keep it up and I'll gag you… Maybe even with my cock," you heard one of them chuckle. 

You immediately calmed down. Last thing you wanted was that. 

"Please, if you want money you'll have to take me back to the store. I keep it in the safe." 

"Shut up, we won't tell you again." Austin said. 

"Austin, please tell me why you're doing this?" 

"Because your little boyfriend needs to be taught a lesson. Him and his friend have been causing trouble and it's bad for business. Unfortunately, sweetheart, you're collateral damage." 

They drove you for almost 20 minutes before they dragged you from the car and into a building. They took you inside, sat you down and bound you to a chair. 

"Call your boyfriend," one of his henchmen ordered. 

"How exactly am I supposed to do that with my hands tied, genius?" You sassed. 

He reached into your pocket and pulled up his name. You could hear the line ringing. 

"Can you at least take the bag off of my head?" You requested. 

Bucky was fuming. He and Sam had followed the rest of Austin's gang to this warehouse. But when Austin himself pulled in, he had you. 

He thought it was odd that they were all coming out here, but now he sees that this is a set up. His phone was vibrating in his pocket. It was a call from you. 

He accepted the call and sat his phone down to look through his scope. 

"You can either let her go right now or I will kill every single one of you." He said calmly. 

"Sebastian," you cried. 

"It's okay, baby girl, I got you," he hung up. 

He let off two shots taking out the men who stood guard at the door. He took down the others as they came running from the building. 

"I'm in position," Sam said into his comms. 

Bucky jumped down from the tree he was in and moved in. He hoped you were safe. He never meant for this to happen to you. 

You heard the shots. They were so loud and it seemed like all hell broke loose after. The men around you started shouting and then you heard the door slam. 

You rocked from side to side in the chair until it tipped over. You tried your best to get loose, but nothing was helping. You started to panic as the gunshots were getting closer. 

Fear and adrenaline took over and your ears began to ring. It seemed like the bag was keeping you from breathing as you started to hyperventilate. 

You started screaming when you heard the door get kicked open. You could feel the person cutting the tape away. You were gonna fight this time. They wouldn't get the opportunity to take you somewhere else. They'll kill you for sure. 

Once your hands were free you started swinging. 

"Stop!" Bucky yelled. "It's me—" 

You punched him in the eye. He could barely get a grip on you, but when he finally did, he snatched the bag off. 

"Y/N! It's me, calm down." He hugged you. 

You relaxed into his hold and sobbed into his neck. 

"They were gon-gonna kill m-me," you stuttered. 

"I never gave them the chance. You're safe now." 

Weeks had gone by and nobody spoke a word about Austin or his mysterious disappearance. In fact, people seemed to celebrate the fact that he was gone. 

He'd been running a drug operation through the town and using his business as a front. Apparently, he had ties to Hydra, which is why Sam and Bucky were brought in to shut him down. 

You were back at your store and business resumed as normal. Bucky had left the same night of the incident. He didn't even say goodbye. He was too ashamed to face you. 

You heard the bell above the door and looked up from your phone. Your heart skipped a beat when those blue eyes stared back at you. 

"Hey," he waved. 

"I'm busy," you said and tried to walk away.

"Wait, please," he grabbed your arm, "please?" He asked a little softer. 

"I'm mad at you, you didn't even say goodbye!" 

"I know and I should have, but I was a punk and I want to make it right." He pleaded. 

"You have two minutes," you crossed your arms. 

He lifted you up on the counter and stood in front of you. It was very dramatic. 

"I'm James, but my friends call me Bucky. I'm 103 years old, but I spent most of those years frozen and brainwashed. I really did lose my arm in the war, but it was world war 2. I'm from Brooklyn and my favorite food is pizza." He said. "Oh and I fought in two alien wars, although it felt like only one, because I died in the first one and when I woke up 5 years had passed." 

"Hi, Bucky, nice to meet you." 

You pulled him in for a passionate kiss. He pulled away and pressed your forehead to his. 

"I'm sorry," he said. 

He helped you down and watched you lock the front door and switch your sign to closed. 

"If you're really sorry, you'll make it up to me," you grabbed his hand. 

He scooped you up and carried you to your office. He'd absolutely make it up to you with no problem. 

@titty-teetee​

@bluestarego​

@literaturefeen​

@fandomfavesss​

@angrythingstarlight​

[moony-meadow]

Going for Goldie (6)

Pt. 1 / Pt. 2 / Pt. 3 / Pt. 4 / Pt. 5

After Beelzebub departed, Mammon and I were once again alone together. The white-haired demon had resumed his place on the sofa, only now he was laid out on it with his back propped up against the armrest. This left me inside his stomach at a kind of incline. I’d taken to leaning against the back wall and was taking advantage of the surprisingly relaxing warmth the fleshy surface provided.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck in here for hours,” I moaned, flopping my arm over my face dramatically. “So much for having a midnight snack.” It wasn’t uncommon for Beel and I to run into each other at the kitchen in the middle of the night. We both seemed to have a habit of craving late night treats.

“Well,” I felt Mammon’s hand plop down onto his stomach, causing a small tremor around me, “I could always swallow somethin’ for ya to eat.”

My face instantly formed into a grimace. “Don’t be disgusting, Mammon,” I chided. The idea of eating someone’s second hand food was positively repulsive. Though I knew the demon was joking, I still didn’t appreciate the crude commentary. A chuckle rumbled around me, but otherwise Mammon said nothing more.

“You know, I think since this turned out to be a lot more than a quick trip into your stomach, that you owe me Goldie privileges for at least three days,” I stated. Had I not already committed myself to helping Mammon keep his credit card from Lucifer, I might have abandoned the whole thing as soon as things got complicated. But, if I gave up now and made Mammon cough me up, then the whole thing might end up being for nothing.

A strangled noise of outrage came from Mammon. “Three days?! Ya gotta be kiddin’ me!” The stomach walls all pressed in around me slightly, I could only assume as a result of Mammon clenching his hand around his middle. “I--I’ll give ya two days, but that’s it!” he exclaimed after my lack of response displayed how serious I was about the matter.

“Fine, but you also have to take me out to dinner some night,” I declared.

Mammon unclenched his hand from around his stomach, but I could tell that he’d now tensed up all over. “Wha? You can’t be--pfft, like the Great Mammon would ever be caught goin’ out to dinner with a--with a human,'' he stammered. I had to stifle a giggle, I could just tell his face had become all blushy.

It was a pretty common occurrence that whenever I took part in some playful flirting with the Avatar of Greed, his face would heat up while he stuttered out insistences that he had no interest in humans. I knew it was just one of his defense mechanisms, so I had stopped taking offense to it a long time ago.

“It can be lunch if you prefer,” I replied, feigning ignorance.

“Huh? No--I’m only havin’ a meal with you if you’re the main course,'' Mammon finished the sentence proudly.

I rolled my eyes. “This is the last time I’m ever going to be in your stomach.” While I felt pretty sure of my own statement, there was a part of me that wondered if I really would be able to avoid being eaten again. Yesterday I would have said I would never let a demon eat me under any circumstances, and yet here I was sitting in the belly of the beast.

The pressure at the front of the stomach returned as Mammon rested both his hands on top of it. “Well ya better not end up in any other demon’s stomach,” he warned, a hint of possessiveness in his voice. “You are my human, after all.”

Being the Avatar of Greed, it wasn’t surprising to me that Mammon tended to be overprotective of his belongings. However, I never would have guessed I would be considered among those belongings. His possessiveness over me wasn’t only in regards to me being eaten, he had also expressed jealousy when his brothers tried to get a little too close to me. In a way, it was kind of endearing. Although, I always made a point to make it clear that I was not an object to be owned.

“I’m your friend,” I corrected smoothly, “and you don’t have to worry about anyone else eating me, at least not with my permission anyway.”

Mammon was silent, and for a moment I wondered if I’d made him upset in some way. But then his hand began to slowly and gently rub his stomach. I smiled softly and leaned forward to pat the outermost wall in response. The guy wasn’t the best at accepting compliments or genuine displays of affection, but he had his own little ways of showing his appreciation.

“Hey, Y/N?” Mammon spoke up, now idly trailing a finger over his stomach. “You’re not...I dunno, scared of me or nothin’, are ya?”

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. The genuine concern in the demon’s voice threw me off guard. He usually made an effort to try to convince people that he was an incredibly powerful demon that ought to be feared. And while his brothers often treated him as though he were weak, I knew better. Mammon was the second eldest of the seven Avatars, and therefore the second most powerful. However, the thing with Mammon was that the guy pretty much never flexed that power. For whatever reason, even when his little brothers smacked him around or called him names, Mammon never lashed out.

As a result of all that, it was easy for me to sometimes forget that I hung out with a potentially deadly demon on the daily. Of course, when Mammon had shrunk me I’d been reminded of that latent fear. However, I wasn’t about to tell him that. I didn’t know how he’d react to the knowledge that my natural instincts insisted I be wary of demons like him (especially when they were giant sized), but I certainly didn’t want him getting the impression that I was some scared little thing. Besides, logically I knew Mammon could (mostly) be trusted. Plus, having a pact with him meant I could stop him if he ever were to do something that really freaked me out.

“Oh please,” I dismissed. “It would take a lot more than an overgrown demon to scare me.”

“Hmmm,” Mammon hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe next time I should eat ya in my demon form, that might really give ya a fright.”

The joking tone of his voice was obvious, but I still sent a kick into the nearest wall in retaliation for the comment. “How many times do I have to tell you there won’t be a next time?” I huffed.

“Is it really so bad in there?” the demon inquired, once again prodding at the outside of his stomach.

I took a moment to assess my surroundings. It was just as pitch black as ever so I could only imagine what everything actually looked like. Surprisingly there was no foul odor, the stomach acid that was pooled at the bottom didn’t seem to have a scent to it. The temperature was a bit warmer than I’d prefer, but it was thankfully tolerable. And while the squishy stomach walls still kind of grossed me out, I had gotten pretty used to them already.

Being in the stomach itself wasn’t terrible, really it was the mere fact that I was in someone else’s stomach that I disliked so much. It was a matter of pride. Being in the Devildom, it was very important that I keep my head held high. Showing weakness would just encourage potential enemies to target me.

“It’s...well it’s not exactly the Ritz,” I responded, unsure of how exactly to explain it to Mammon. “I have no idea how I’m supposed to sleep in here either.” I couldn’t deny that it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, but I wasn’t really sure if I’d be able to fall asleep with the knowledge that I was literally inside someone’s stomach.

As if on cue, Mammon gave a yawn that caused everything around me to tighten for a moment before loosening once again as he exhaled. “Well, let’s test it out,” he announced. That was the only warning I got before Mammon sat up and got to his feet.

With Goldie safely tucked away in a pocket, I was able to easily brace myself against the walls with both hands. I felt quite secure--that is until the floor suddenly became a wall and one of the walls I’d been holding onto suddenly became the floor. “I suppose I should have seen that coming,” I thought to myself.

After a few moments of shifting as Mammon got situated, everything around me finally settled and I was able to get myself comfortable. It wasn’t like there was a ton of room to spread out, but it was plenty of space for me to lay flat. The stomach acid had seemed to dissipate shortly after Mammon had laid down, as if his body had finally caught on that I wasn’t going to be digested so it had no business sticking around.

“Comfy?” the demon asked as he went back to gently rubbing his stomach in a circular motion.

I snorted. “About as comfortable as someone can get in a stomach.”

“Good,” Mammon replied cheerfully, unphased by my grumpy tone.

“You better not roll onto your stomach,” I warned. While I figured the action wouldn’t necessarily hurt me, I doubted it would be comfortable being squished by the entirety of the giant demon’s bodyweight.

A chuckle echoed around me. “Don’t worry, I’m not much of a stomach sleeper,” Mammon promised.

With nothing else much to say, and exhaustion beginning to heavily set in, I said, “Okay...then goodnight, I guess.”

“G’night, Y/N.”

In a matter of minutes I could tell Mammon had already fallen asleep. His breathing was slow and even and his heartrate had dropped to a resting level. Honestly, the natural ambience of his body was kind of relaxing. The up and down motion his breaths caused almost made me feel like I was on a gently floating boat. It didn’t take much longer for me to drift effortlessly into a deep sleep.

The next morning, as soon as Mammon and I woke up, I demanded he quickly get me out and unshrink me. My urgency was in large part spurred by the fact that my bladder was absolutely screaming at me after having not been emptied in so long. I didn’t even get the chance to relish my return to normal size before I darted out to the bathroom, but not before ordering Mammon never to tell another soul about the previous night’s events.

After dumping everything I’d been wearing into the wash, taking an hour and a half long shower, and then absolutely stuffing myself during breakfast, I actually felt back to normal. Of course, I wasn’t about to forget the experience of being eaten anytime soon. And something told me Mammon wouldn’t either.