#its such a Bad idea SHUT THE FUCK UP BEFORE SOMEONE IN THE INDUSTRY HEARS YOU!!!!!!!!!!

[acrobattack]

I know people really really want a bunch of side characters to be part of the main cast or have their own spinoff or something but I really appreciate the original just sticking with the girls all the way through

[cottonpuffmouse]

Beast 4 Beast

Summary: As his attempted death, the former boss of the Port Mafia wakes up in a familiar shipping container. Unable to leave, or to know where he is being shipped, Dazai is forced to reckon with his captor.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Dazai Attempt, Dazai Reference(You Know What I’m Saying), Attempted Murder, Manipulation, Weird Fucked Up Love, Stalking, Genuine Affection, Critical Levels of Dazai Apologism

(Divider cred)

He woke up in a terrible position. Without opening his eyes, which he knew would instantly tell his captors he was alive and awake, Dazai could feel just how terrible it was. He could smell metal, maybe even rust. He could taste something tangy on his tongue, which meant he’d been fed all manner of drugs when he was out. And he could hear dense metal grinding on dense metal, a specific sound he only heard by the ports.

For a moment, he was also tempted to say he was in his shipping container. That the last four or so years of his life had all truly been a bad dream. Traumatizing Atsushi, ruining his own life, Oda refusing to give him that recognition he so craved, all of it had only been an illusion of his own diseased mind.

Readying himself for torture, Dazai opened his eyes to the truth.

Which was that he was in his shipping container. Alone and completely secure.

He flung off his blanket, a cheap cotton one he was intimately familiar with, and began searching for explanations. His vision shook as he checked his desk - with its secret drawer still full of his hidden thoughts - and then his fan, which still was the same make and model.

This was his container.

“Think,” he demanded of himself even as his ears started to ring. But his brain would not heed his orders, instead it devoted itself to panicking, to shutting down his ability to do anything but run.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be dead. His brain repeated over and over that he was supposed to be dead. How could a dead man be running around his old room?

Dazai made for the pod doors and pressed on them slowly. But even when he was shoving with all his might, socked feet sliding against the smooth metal floor, he could not open the green metal lid of his coffin. Pressure built in his lungs as he looked around, searching for an opening he knew was not there.

‘What about the metal cutter saw?’ His brain asked, momentarily helpful before showing him every possible consequence of not finding the saw. He could see himself scratching at the metal until his fingernails chipped off as he opened the drawer he kept the industrial tool in. But there was no heavy weight resisting him as he opened the drawer and - of course - no saw. He slammed it closed as his hopes and mind started to burn up.

Dazai began feverishly opening everything he could. Food, water, and various out things tumbled out but not the saw.

Out of desperation, he opened the saw drawer again and there was something in there now: a single white envelope. He immediately rationed that it must be from his captors - he had captors, someone was not willing to let him die in such a painful and humiliating way, he was saved and safe. Dazai took a deep gulp of air - a raw and undignified one as his brain started to cool down. Then he sat with the envelope and opened it.

“Dear Osamu Dazai,

It was not easy to get my hands on you!!!!!!!!! Wow! You are one slippery bastard!!!

No, no that’s too mean - too facetious. Let me start over, keep your eyes on me (the letter) for now.

It didn’t take me 20 minutes of reading over your internal documents to realize you were going to kill youself. We’ll start there. Even though the idea is preposterous as it is stupid and misguided, I knew there was absolutely no point in trying to save you before you could kiss death’s lips.

You are so stupid in that way.

Did you read that correctly?

Yes you, whom I’ve trapped in your own container for your own good, are one of the stupidest men on this here Planet Earth.

That is why I had to trap you! There is no reasoning with a stupid and emotional animal like yourself - one who earnestly believes their death should be the thing to bring peace. Perhaps someone less familiar(read: obsessed) might see the coded training logs you kept for the White Reaper and think “A sign he was training to create a monster.” But I know, I know, you were trying to train a hero.

Your handwriting gets slightly sloppier: sharper lines to indicate increasing frustration. And you started leaving annotations in the margins in dark pencil marks. If anyone could guess where the margins even started. So I know you were feeling rushed. Because you were going to kill yourself and you needed Atsushi to be ready. Or perhaps broken enough - I couldn’t decipher everything, you still have secrets, you can breathe, Osamu.

There’s more. Of course. But I wanted to prove how easy you were to figure out. To prove I was, at the very least, a competent and worthy stalker for you. And in the glimpses of you I saw, when you got in and out of the mafia’s long black cars, I could see the bags under your eyes.

I had to buy one of those cameras that can see all the way to the moon.

You have very pretty eyes. The moon’s ugly up close.

I am taking you home with me. There’ll be no more Osamu Dazai in Japan for he is dead and his corpse is currently being buried. Chuuya Nakahara is taking off his hat at the sight of Osamu Dazai, dead and being lowered into the ground - believing a ��great evil” has been put to rest.

But Osamu Dazai in the Great US of A is only beginning.

Now, now, don’t moan. You’ll come to like our dirty, filthy nature and enjoy our…well, you’ll find something to love, I’m sure. Even if it’s just me.

Right, back to the start of the letter, whoever you saw by the original’s side, it was me. I am the shadow that has been haunting your every move. And I must have done an amazing job to sneak behind you as often as I did. Perhaps you were letting me? Yes, we’ll both agree(you and this letter) that I (the letter’s author) was only allowed to stalk and obsess over you as much as I did. You really are such a generous man; it’s hard to believe more people don’t like you.

But I’ve teased you enough. And you must have been terrified to wake up where you did. So I will explain:

Right now, you(and I) are on a transatlantic journey to my home country, the United States. You are being kept in here partly as a prisoner, partly as my honored guest. You will remain in there until we arrive. Your basic needs are taken care of, you might even see my gentle feminine mind has remembered a bathroom for you, and you should want for nothing over the course of our journey.

In your left desk drawer there is a small whistle. If anything terribly urgent comes up, if you hurt yourself or need assistance, if you get dangerously bored - please whistle. A sailor will come to help you. Please use the whistle as soon as you’re awake and I will come and speak with you within the hour. Please do not save the whistle as the sailors have been trained to ignore you the very first time you do - for that whistle is for me.

The Prisoner in Your Heart,

Annaka Anderfels

Dazai nearly threw up. He felt it creep up his throat while reading the letter. Even though he now knew he was in not danger, what disgusted him was the flowery language, the intensely familiar way the author wrote to him, and the fact he’d managed to fall so low as to let this kidnapping happen to him.

Without hesitation, he found and blew the whistle.

When she did not immediately fling the doors open, he began tidying up the room he’d just destroyed. Dazai took great care to make everything look as undisturbed as possible. He’d just folded the sheets back and sat on his bed when a knock came.

“You may come in.” It came out in a hoarse, grinding way like he had stones for vocal cords. He regretted speaking at all instantly.

While he looked around for water, a feminine voice answered: “Oh, no can do, mister!” A slot no bigger than a jails slid open and he briefly saw her. “The door is welded shut.”

His heart leapt into his throat. “What?”

“I had the door welded shut! I knew you could have eventually figured out how to get to any lock so I just let heat and God’s given materials do the work for me. Much cheaper than bribing one of the sailors to watch over you!”

Dazai let the shiver of disgust roll over him. “You thought a lot about this, didn’t you?”

The sound of ship’s motor filled the air as the vessel carved through the ocean. Other shipping crates ground together as he waited for her to respond. But she was quiet. For a moment, he even thought she’d left when she did speak again.

Her tone was softer now and her voice more soothing to listen to. He crept towards the opening to hear her better as she said, “I know you must be upset, Osamu. I know you don’t like people messing up your plans. And I’m sure you’re mad to suddenly be caged by a crazy lady. But I couldn’t stand by and watch you kill yourself. I love you too much.”

“You must know a lot about me then,” He hissed sarcastically.

He heard her sigh. “You got me there. I don’t know much about you and the stuff I could confirm screams you are a force of nature, a darkness! I have trapped a little god in a shipping container.”

“Could you be more melodramatic?”

“Yes. Why? Do you want me to?”

A cool, violent smile flickered over his lips. Humorous. He could be funny too. “Yes, I want you to prove your love to me-”

“Anything!” She cried, dramatically throwing herself against the door. “I’ll do anything.”

“Get me a barnacle from the bottom of this boat.”

“...Is that seriously what you want? Will you let me talk to you a little more if I do?”

He was practically giggling now; Dazai was so delighted this trick was working. “Yes, but it needs to be from the very bottom. I’ll know everything.”

“...Okay, Osamu. I will return tomorrow with a barnacle from the bottom of this boat.”

She knocked on the opening slot to show him where it was and that he could open it himself. Then he could hear her climbing down the shipping crates to the deck below. Dazai rushed to get a glimpse of the soon to be corpse but saw no one.

In no way did he expect this woman to be able to accomplish such a feat. She would need scuba gear and would be lucky if she drowned instead of being sucked into the blade’s propellers. Perhaps she’d sacrifice one of the crew for him and regret it so deeply that she would kill him to make up for it. In either case, he was reassured death was still coming to take him away from this hellish, impossible world so he could not ruin it.

Once it was clear he was alone and unreachable by danger or otherwise, he started searching for a way to kill himself. The saw was gone, his rations were in loose floppy ziploc bags not nearly big enough to suffocate him, and he realized there was nowhere to hang a noose after destroying his sheets to make rope.

He sat down on the bed defeated. To add to the feeling, Dazai quickly found himself falling asleep. Though he wanted to stay awake and think of more ways he could finish his plans, sleep kidnapped him just as easily as Annaka had and he fell into a dreamless slumber.

He woke up to his opening being slid open and a knock at the door.

Through watery, tired eyes, he glanced over in time to see a rock come flying in. It bounced against the bottom before scittering to a stop.

Once he found the strength to accept there was no god - for a merciful one would have answered his prayers to kill him - Dazai got out of bed to play with whatever his new toy was.

He realized, as he got closer to it, that it was a barnacle.

“I cut my fingers trying to peel it off.” Hands were shoved into the slot for him to inspect. Even from a few feet away, he could see all the healing red slashes across her palms and fingers. “But I got one! See!”

He flung the barnacle back out as hard as he possibly could.

The same voice sighed deeply. “You see, when I was underwater last night, getting dragged along by the boat, I thought to myself, ‘He’s just going to throw it back out or use it to cut open his own throat’. So I suppose I must commend you for choosing the former. It’s very reassuring.”

Before he could start insulting her, she began stuffing a bundle of cloth through the slot. It bunched up and got stuck quickly, to the point she had to begin punching it in. Dazai had to show mercy and began tugging from his side. Finally it gave, exploding over him in soft, fluffy blueness.

Dazai let the sheets settle over his head and blind him to everything but the sound of her voice.

“I saw you tore your sheets. I can’t believe you thought you could out think me on the thought of your suicide. There’s nothing to hurt yourself with, nothing. Please don’t destroy anything else - we’re both lucky I thought you would do that and brought extra sheets for you.”

He, again, tried to destroy the stupid girl on the other side of the wall and was, again, interrupted by her. She prattled on, “Don’t forget you said you’d talk a little more with me if I got you the barnacle! You practically promised!”

Dazai tried to change his ability to one that killed people by thinking of their names but every time he thought ‘Annaka’ he was rewarded with more of her speech.

“Oh!” She cried, finally silent for more than a second. After twelve seconds exactly, a plate was pushed and balanced on his opening slot. “You must be starved! I gave you some snacks but I-D-K if you ate them.”

He decided it wasn’t worth praying this maniac's food tasted good and took the plate with silent acceptance. It looked fine. Orange pasta, too much butter, and a plastic spoon to eat with. His devil waited patiently, blissfully silently, for him to eat a few bites.

Dazai liked it.

It was fine. He ate the entire plate but would not actively seek seconds. The devil accepted the empty plate with a cry of glee.

“Oh gosh! No complaint or anything! You’re so darling, Dazai! I’m even tempted to leave you be for the night-“

He shoved the plate back out. A second later, a bang followed light twinkling noises as the pieces bounced away. The voice sighed. “Oh Osamu. No need to hurt the plate.”

This time he was silent. He would bore her to death and then he would starve. Dazai winced internally - that was not how he would prefer it.

“You’re quiet. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

He tried not to even breathe. Dazai tried to be so still as she tapped on the container like a fish tank. Like he was a pet to be bothered. This was hell, death by a thousand insults. Every one of her noises was a lashing on his mind. She made a wet kissy noise that triggered a sudden burst of flaming pride that he could not contain.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh thank goodness!” She cried, jumping for joy and shaking the containers ever so slightly. He stored the knowledge away. “I was so so worried. These first couple of days are the hardest.”

“Why do you keep talking?”

“To stop your brain from working. I think something in me is like…a Dazai EMP. A DMP, perhaps…..”

His chest squeezed like someone punched him.

“Is what I wish I could say! Hahaha!” She fell back against the container. “Now, what do you want to talk about?”

Dazai grabbed his pillow, pulling it to his mouth and taking deep controlled breaths.

Then he had an idea.

Working as quietly as possible as Annaka prattled on, he gathered some of the scraps from the day before and tied them together again. He roped them around the ends of his bed poles until they were taunted against the mattress. Then he slid a pillow under the tense sheet rope. His soul was sobbing in relief as he laid down and took his last deep breath before slipping his head under the pillow.

“Oh, Osamu,” The voice said, in the same way it had over the shattered plate. He briefly heard her running away, feet pounding on the metal before his pillow muffled all sound. It was like trying to breathe through a sheep.

Dazai was ashamed to say he struggled a bit. But he accepted it quickly. The darkness was easy and quiet. He hated how sticky this method felt, his own dying breaths onto top of him. He swallowed painfully, reaching for the rope to tighten it just in case. Instead, he nearly lost the tip of his fingers as a sharp snip was heard. The tension disappeared; the pillow was knocked from his face.

Breathing felt like restarting reality. He genuinely could not believe it. He grabbed the pillow and flung it to the side of the container in fury. There was absolutely no way to relieve the way he wanted to explode. He wanted to melt through the steel he was so hot with rage.

This was a highly personal form of torture.

Only the devil himself could have peered so deeply into Dazai’s heart and come up with this method of eternal punishment. Here he was trapped in his past, confined to the only place he had felt safe in his youth. Even the other him had spent several safe months in this shipping container. Now he was trapped by it, stuck in it’s safe womb and sealed there to live. That was his biggest issue. Dazai did not want to live. He needed to die for several reasons: the dead man switches he’d placed to help Atsushi, confined protection of Yokohama from that Russian Devil, and continued insurance and a golden haired sacrifice to ensure Oda’s health.

Now he was alive and safe. A pole clattered to the ground outside and his head whipped toward the slot. He was prepared to face Annaka with all the anger and dignity he could summon.

Yet crumbled at the sight of her tears.

“Are you okay? Are you? Are you okay?”

She stuck her hand in the slot like an idiot. It was a perfect chance to break her fingers-

“Please! Just say something-“

“I’m fine!” He grabbed her fingers, crushing them. Yet all the muscles were tight in his shoulder - there was no way to break her hand like this. Dazai squeezed all his frustration into it though until it slipped away, sweaty from it’s owner’s desperation.

Annaka’s eyes appeared again, red and filled with tears. “Good.”

She slammed the window closed on her side. Dazai hear the containers dull echoing thud as she stomped away. Exhausted from his own part in the production, Dazai laid on the bed. Staring up at the roof, he tried to ignore a quick living, beating heart.

For the moment, he could not admit to himself that was hers to control too.

[bakugosbratx]

NSFW 18+ The Assistant— AU Levi Ackerman x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Smut, degrading, cursing, punishment, dom levi, sub reader, bondage, bdsm, some angst, toxic relationship, spanking, cheating, etc.

Words: 3, 673

Check out my other works here

A/N: Me and my irl moot @idfkwtfgof came up with this idea so I decided to write it out. Enjoy this fifty shades of gray moment. I’ve been working on this for over a month 🙃 I’m sorry it took me forever.

Tags: @idfkwtfgof @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie

You take a deep breath as you approached the double doors in front of you. Your heart pounded against your rib cage. The silent hallways seemed to be echoing the thumps. Anyone in your position would be nervous too if they had to meet with the CEO of the Ackerman Industries. He was not one to enjoy much company nor request it. His gaze alone could intimidate the strongest of people and you are no different.

Fist resting on the wooden door in front of you, you hesitate, but close your eyes and knock anyway. You did not hear a response as you patiently wait. Instead, the door swings open to be met with the CEO himself, Levi Ackerman. Not a word was spoken, but he ushered you inside his huge office.

Scurrying, you slightly jump as you heard the huge door slam. You are in Levi’s office. Only businessmen and women are allowed in here. You feel not even worthy to be stepping on the same floor these successful people walk on. It could also be the fact that the office seemed spotless. For someone as busy as the CEO, he sure did know how to make a stack of papers seem neat in a stack.

“Sit.” Levi instructed as he strolled over to his desk chair and doing the said action. You looked around the room. Behind Levi is a wall of windows to overlook the city of New York. His desk his a beautiful dark brown that was so clean that you could see your reflection. Along with seeing your reflection, you can see —and feel— Levi starring at you. Meeting his silver orbs, you gulp.

“Do you know why I called you in here, Y/N?” Levi questioned, his tone remaining calm as always. Somehow, this intimidated you even more.

“No, sir, I don’t.” You admit. In all honesty, you are not sure why Levi called you into his office. He waited until almost everyone has gone home for the evening to set up this meeting. You have felt nauseous all day about it. Receiving an email from the CEO was enough to make anyone’s breath hitch, but to have a meeting — alone — with him is enough to make one soil themselves.

“I want to offer you a promotion,” Levi explained, his gaze hardening. “That is, if you want it?”

This is way better news than you expected. Levi has employees for a reason. He always calls the shots since it is his million dollar company, but why get his hands dirty when he can pay people to do it for him? Since no one is allowed in his office without special permission, this seemed a bit off.

“What does the job intel?”

“Well, my company is expanding even larger than anticipated this year. I need a personal assistant. Examining the work you have put in over the years, I decided you are cut out for the job. What do you say?”

You take a moment to contemplate his words. The offer is amazing and would definitely look great on your resume, but working so close to the CEO of the company is quite intimidating. Any bad habits you have developed better end swiftly or else it’s your job on the line. Levi is not afraid to terminate anyone not fit for the job.

“I’ll take it.” You smile, the words flowing out before you could even think any further.

“You start tomorrow. I expect you in my office 8am sharp. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Standing up, you straighten out your black pencil skirt and head your way towards the door. Levi’s eyes did not once leave your figure. The way you naturally sway your hips as you walk and the way the skirt hugged your hips just right. His eyes are enjoying the desires most men have yet when you turned to look over your shoulder, his eyes where focused on his paperwork.

You went home that night, excited to tell your significant other about your promotion. He did not even blink an eye in your direction. Instead, he is pissed that you are home later than normal.

“Babe—“

“Where the hell have you been?” He hissed.

“I-I was called into the CEO’s office. I got a promotion!” You stammered, nervous under your boyfriend’s glare. He always made you feel small and his anger tends to send you over the edge. This is one of those many times.

“Why would he have you in there this late? Do you think I’m really that fucking stupid?” He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Babe, I’m being serious. I would never lie to you.” You argued.

“And how do I know that?” He countered. “How am I certain that you aren’t cheating on me? Or even hurt? Are your damn thumbs broken, Y/N? Can’t keep me updated ‘bout what’s going on? I was worried sick about you.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll do better.”

Your boyfriend walked over to you, embracing your body into a tight hug. You had so much more to say, but to prevent any further escalation of an argument, you apologized and kept your mouth shut.

The next morning arrived. You woke up extra early to have time to do your hair and makeup, dressed in your nicest attire, and wear the most expensive of jewelry. Since you are going to be around the CEO for now on, you cannot show up to work appearing sluggish. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe.

“Dressed quite nicely, huh?” He spoke, meeting your eyes through the mirror. You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat.

“I have to be.”

He stayed silent for a moment, his orbs tracing your figure. He hated when you showed confidence. It killed him inside and knowing that other men saw your beauty as well made his blood boil. He just has to ruin it.

“For the circus? Your makeup looks awful and your hair is tremendous.” He scoffed.

You bit your bottom lip. Tears welled in your eyes, but you prevented them from falling. You refuse to let him ruin your confidence. You are a strong woman and his insecurities shouldn’t be placed upon you. It is not your baggage to carry.

You meet his eyes again through the mirror. You feel your confidence crumble beneath you, but you remain strong. Turning around, you brush past him as you stroll out of the bathroom. You ignored him calling your name and demanding you to return. All he could do is watch as you left without even saying goodbye.

You arrived to the business earlier than expected. You have checked your hair and makeup more than once in the car review mirror. You are not necessarily even wanting Levi’s approval, — though he is quite handsome — you just want to look presentable. He is your boss, after all. He is not afraid to fire anyone on the spot. You are no exception.

Inhaling a sharp breath, you knock on Levi’s office door. You hear his approval to come inside and welcome yourself inside. You were not even receive a glance as you closed the door behind you. Levi’s gray orbs never left his monitor screen. You gulp nervously as you proceed towards his desk.

“I stopped to get some coffee. I brought you a tea,” you lay his cup on his desk, “just how you like it.”

He nods, still typing away. This did not help your anxiety at all. Is he regretting his decision making you his assistant? Are you disturbing him? Is he contemplating firing you? Your stomach turned at the thought.

The sound of the printer disturbed your nuisance thoughts. Levi grabbed the piece of paper and placed it on top of a neat stack. He stands up, finally looking at you.

“I have a meeting to attend to in an hour. I need these documents assorted in alphabetical order before then.”

Your eyes fall to the tall stack of papers. You definitely need more than an hour to get through them all. By Levi’s facial expression, you knew he was serious. Levi always looked serious.

“Yes, sir,” you grab the stack and meet his a gaze again, “I’ll get it done swiftly.”

“Good. I’m counting on you. Sit over there.” He orders, glancing at the couches and coffee table in the middle of his office. Maybe it is just your nerves, but his workspace seems bigger than remembered. This did not help your anxiety.

You began getting to work. You thought you are doing well on time, but time seemed to have passed you by. Levi is now towering over you, his unsatisfied silver orbs glaring down at you. You hesitate, but force yourself to meet them.

“Thought you said you would have this done?” Levi recalls.

“I-I’m really sorry, s-sir.” You stammered, expecting the worse.

“Sorry doesn’t sort the papers, Y/N.” He scolds, his silver eyes only being shown through slits.

“I—“

“We will discuss this after my meeting. Until then, I want my office spotless.” Levi continues, cutting you off. He begins walking towards the door and pauses once he reaches for the handle. “Oh and Y/N?”

You look up, meeting the CEO’s annoyed orbs. “Yes, sir?”

“You’re on strike one.” Levi warns. You did not even have a chance to ask questions as his office door slams shut behind him, leaving you alone to sulk in your thoughts.

You tidied up Levi’s office like he requested of you. Every paper went into its appropriate home, cushions are straightened out, rug is vacuumed, and you are currently dusting. This man is a clean freak by nature so there was not much to do. Still, your nerves were pulsating. This is only day one and you are not on Levi’s good side. You are becoming worrisome as your job is now potentially on the line.

The door opening made you jump. You can feel Levi’s silver orbs on you as you dust his bookshelf. He did not disturb you, though, as he proceeded towards his desk and went to work like nothing happened. Curiosity is begging you to speak, but you remain silent and complete your task.

You gather the cleaning supplies and place them back into the small closet. Returning on the guest side of Levi’s desk, he does not even look up from his monitor.

“I’m finished cleaning, sir.”

Levi did not say anything. Instead, he stood up and went to the window. His fingers grazed along the exterior which collected dust on the tips. He studied it for a moment. Your heart stopped as your breath hitched. You did not mean to forget the windows, but they look so clean already. They truly do not need much more cleaning.

“Seems like you missed a spot.” He remarks, turning to face you.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir. I thought—“

“Your cleaning is lamentable. Back to dusting. Now.” He demands, cleaning the dust off of his fingers with his handkerchief.

“Yes, sir.” You reply, gathering the cleaning supplies once again. You sprayed the windows and clean every inch of them until lunch time. Levi was sure to inspect your work before releasing you to go get something to eat.

“You’re dismissed.” He finally speaks. You are quick to collect your belongings leave his office. You stroll the long hallway to the elevator. You are finally alone with your thoughts and honestly, they were overwhelming. This job is very nerve racking and it’s only your first day. You are not making the best of impressions on your boss.

Digging in your purse, you check your cellphone. You have several missed calls and texts from your significant other. A pit in your stomach began to drown your appetite. You know this is going to cause a major fight between you two. A fight you did not want to participate in.

Reluctantly, you call your boyfriend back. He picks up on the second ring.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He hissed, sending chills down your spine. The elevator doors open and you head towards the cafeteria.

“Working. I can’t be on my phone while I’m—“

“So work is more important than me?” He interrupts.

“What? No. That’s not it at all.” You argued, picking up a bag of chips and a drink from the dispensers before checking out.

“Then answer my damn calls, Y/N!”

“I can’t when I’m at work!” You exclaimed. You hand the cashier money before mouthing the words ‘thank you.’ She gave you a worried look, but you disregarded it. This is not the first time that have heard a heated conversation between you and your boyfriend.

You go find an empty table to eat by yourself. The bickering between your boyfriend did not end on a good note as the other line went dead. You slammed your phone back into your purse and forced yourself to eat your chips. You did not even want them. Your relationship is falling through the cracks, you are failing at your job, and you are on the verge of losing what is left of your sanity.

Time really slipped away while you fumed in anger because you are now late to returning to Levi’s office. Tears prickled in your eyes. This is not good at all. Levi is going to be furious. Even possibly firing you.

You raced to his office. You did not even take the elevator as it will take far too long to get to his office. You are panting by the time you arrive and sweat droplets formed at the top of your forehead. Your hands began to shake as your hand rested on the handle. You need to go in there, but your body did not want to move. Your boyfriend is already pissed. You did not want to deal with your furious boss.

Sighing, you forced yourself to go inside. “I am so sorry.” You blurt out as you enter inside. Levi is giving you a disapproving look.

“Take a seat, Y/N. We need to have a talk.”

Following your boss’ orders, you sit in the chair parallel to his. You begin to tremble as you expect the worse. Levi’s glare does not help you feel any less uneasy either. His silver orbs are staring deep into your soul and making you feel small.

“You know you’re on strike three.” Levi begins. You gulp.

“I know, sir. I’m very sorry. I’ll accept any punishment you have in mind for me.” You sigh, trying to remain brave. Levi can see right through it, though. His gaze hardens and he makes his way around to your side of the desk. He folds his arms but does not remove his gaze from you once.

“What punishment do you think you deserve?” Levi ask, hoping you have the same answer in mind as him.

“I-I’m not sure. I’ll take anything. It’s what I deserve.” You admit, a flustered feeling coming across you. Levi studied your features, clicking his tongue.

“Bend over the desk.”

“What?” You whispered, not sure if you heard your boss correctly. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His intimidating glare pierced through you.

“Talking to that lame ass boyfriend of yours must have you goin deaf. I said bend over my desk.” Levi instructs, letting go of your chin once you catch his drift. You do as your told, bending over his desk. You are uncertain what he is planning to do, but the removal of your skirt gave you a pretty good idea. Your cheeks felt hot as your bare ass is now exposed to Levi’s viewing.

“Lace panties, huh? You planned on being put in this position later?” Levi chuckles, his digits playing with the strap of your thong. You bit your bottom lip, not knowing what to say. A hard smack to your bare ass caused you to release a moan.

“I asked you a question. It’s only polite to answer, brat.”

“Yes. It was for my boyfriend.” You confess in embarrassment for more reasons than one.

“Oh, I see. Your toxic little relationship is in need of fixing, but the only thing you have to offer is your pretty little pussy.” Levi analyzes, rubbing his hand on your ass before delivering another slap. You wince in pain, but you mentally screamed for more. You wanted Levi to continue spanking you.

“That’s not it, sir.” You mumbled. His hand landed down on your sore ass once more while the other hand finds refuge in your hair. He pulls it, tightly, bending your head back.

“What really gets me is this mouth of yours. I suggest you use it to tell the truth before I stuff it.” Levi growls lowly in your ear, letting go of your hair to return behind you.

Another slap was delivered. Little melodies of moans escaped your lips that you attempted to conceal. Levi did not comment on it as he proceed with the punishment. Your cunt dripped with your slick. It is begging to be touched, fucked, anything Levi desires really.

A few slaps and a very red ass later, Levi’s digits founder their way inside your soaked cunt. “Someone enjoyed themselves, hm?” He teased, curling his fingers in you. You shuffle a bit, enjoying the sensation he is giving you. The removal of his fingers made you whine in a needy tone.

“I did, Levi. Please fuck me.” You cry, wanting his cock already. He chuckled at your begging, his hand rubbing your red ass then hitting it again.

“On your knees. Now.” Levi demands. You happily oblige before him. He pats your head in approval. “Good girl. You do know how to listen.”

Levi begins unbuckling his black belt. You are practically foaming at the mouth as he slides the leather out of each loop. He sets it on the desk before proceeding to unbuckle his pants, releasing his hard cock for you to pleasure. Your eyes light up at the sight. The tip of his erection is at your lips, ready for you to move forward. Your tongue teases his sensitive head before you let each inch slide in-and-out of your saliva filled mouth.

“Yeah, like that, baby.” Levi praises as you deep throat his length. You choke some, but continue taking all of his cock. Your tongue spends time playing with the veins in his cock while his head relaxes in your throat.

“The cock hungry slut having a hard time deep throating all my cock?” Levi mocks as you pull it out to catch your breath. A string of saliva connected your lips and his cock together as your lust filled orbs met his.

“Not a chance.” You grin, placing his dick back in your mouth. Levi groans in delight as you repeat the same patterns as before. His cock twitches inside your mouth as pre-cum leaks from the tip and down your throat. You gladly swallow it as his cock becomes overwhelmed, releasing his semen onto your tongue. Not a drop was spilled as you milked his cock for all he had to offer.

Pulling away, Levi praises you again. “Such a good little slut you are. Time we give your pussy some attention, huh?”

“Yes, please, sir.” You beg, eagerly. He taps his desk.

“Bend over my desk.” He commands. Following orders, you bend over his desk like before. You arched your back so your ass and pussy is more accessible for Levi. He spreads your legs out more so your weeping cunt is fully exposed. The cold air sent chills down your spine. Levi is already hard again as he stares at your pussy.

Aligning himself, the tip of his cock enters your dripping hole, sliding in perfectly. You moan as he thrust a rough rhythm. His hips slap against your ass and his hands cling onto your hips. You tightly hang onto his desk as he pick up the pace. You sob out pleas for more.

“Better quiet down. Don’t want your coworkers hearing me fuck you like the whore you are now do we?”

You did not even care. You wanted Levi and you wanted him bad. Groans and profanities filled the room from you two as Levi hits all the right spots. You babble incoherent sentences as you start to climax again on Levi’s girth. Your walls clenched on his size and released when he re-enters himself. This does not stop Levi, though, as he chases after his own high.

“Already cumming again, slut?” Levi teases as he is slowly losing himself inside you. He hit your ass again while his dick twitches. “Ask permission next time.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You cry out, not wanting him to stop. He pulls on your hair again, bending down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m going to fill you up so much that you have to hide it from your boyfriend.”

“Please Levi.” You beg, not even caring anymore. You wanted Levi. You have wanted him for a long time and the feeling is mutual on his end. That is why he hired you, after all.

Levi’s cock could not withstand the pressure anymore. Releasing into the depths of your cunt, he huffs profanities as every drop enters inside of you. You gladly take it as you breathe heavily. He finally pulls out, leaving you a cum filled mess. Giving your ass a gentle tap so you will get up.

“You are dismissed for the day.” Levi grumbled as he situated himself and you did the same. You straightened out your outfit and fixed your hair. You will fix your makeup in the restroom. You proceeded to exit your boss’ office when he called out to you. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yes?” You purred, looking over your shoulder.

“Let your boyfriend know you’re my slut now.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[whump-a-la-mode]

Ok so I had a prompt idea? We’re all familiar with the “villain is sent to a ‘rehabilitation center’ that turns out to be secretly torturing the villains there” trope, but consider this: scared villain is captured by a kind hero and sent to a villain rehabilitation center, and villain has never experienced such warmth and kindness! Not to mention frequent visits from hero to check up/see how they’re doing. Maybe it’s no good but just a thought I had; I love your writing so much!! 💛🌼

(No pressure though, I know you’re probably busy!)

Oh, I absolutely love this prompt! Evil rehab centers are all well and good, but I’d never thought of one as being a source of comfort. I hope you like this! I was going to do some more with it, but it was already running a little long ^^

Thanks so much for the prompt!

CW//Arson, burning buildings, smoke inhalation, fear of death, gross food, mentions of torture, animal disease

As though singed by smoke, Villain’s lungs burned.

Even as they gasped, they felt as though they could not inhale a single breath. Yet, somehow, they had enough air to keep going.

It wasn’t as though they had a choice.

They were unsure, at that point, if their legs were truly moving at all. They had lost feeling in them far too long ago to be able to verify such a thing. Somehow, though, they were moving forward. Even if they wanted to, they didn’t know if they could stop, with momentum pushing them as it was.

Everything was riding on this. Days of keeping ahead, of leading the chase. If they stopped moving for just a moment, it would all be wasted.

And their life would be over. If they stopped running now, there would be no Villain left.

In that instant, they understood what it was to be a rabbit. When there was a fox on your tail, there were no do overs. No second chances. It was run or die.

As long as they could, they were going to run.

Villain couldn’t remember the name of the building in which they had managed to find the briefest of respites. Despite its sprawling size, there was nothing truly remarkable about it. Perhaps it did not have a name in the first place. At some point, it had been some sort of industrial complex-- the home of half a dozen separate companies, each clashing and butting up against one another.

Yet, the structure had long since been left to rot. They had a feeling that mold clinging to every corner had something to do with that.

Just a week ago, they would never have dreamed of so much as going someplace like this. The air smelled rotten, and breathing it left a sour taste sticking to their tongue. Not to mention the fact that several animals of varying size and danger had already claimed the rotten complex as their home.

But, they weren’t the same Villain they had been a week ago. Stumbling upon the building had felt like a gift from above, and, the night prior, they’d managed to get some honest-to-god rest among its sodden carpeting.

It was the most rest they’d gotten in days, despite the fact that, halfway through it, they’d awoken to a diseased rat with its teeth buried in their forearm. They’d had worse awakenings.

After shooing away the animal, they’d managed to sleep an hour or so more. Then came the worse of their two awakenings, that night.

The shouting voices of heroes.

Villain didn’t know how they’d found them. There was no trace, no trail. They had no vehicle-- instead moving through the woods on foot. ‘On foot’ was quite literal in that instance, considering the fact that they’d lost their shoes three days ago to a patch of quickmud.

But, still, they’d been found.

They didn’t no how long ago it was, that they’d been awakened by those voices. With the darkened building’s clocks hanging stubbornly on the wrong minute and hour, there was no way to tell how long it had been.

How long they’d been running...

Villain skidded around a corner, hissing as their foot caught on an uprooted carpet tack. Had they been this way before? It was impossible to tell-- all the halls looked the same.

The halls repeated, just as the heroes’ footsteps did.

How were they not tired?

Maybe because they’d eaten. And slept. And had water.

Villain had found that stream the other day, though...

Everything about them seemed to be repeating. The walls. The footsteps.

The lies of the heroes.

“Just stop running! We don’t want to hurt you!”

They couldn’t count just how many times they’d heard those words. Lies. Of course they were lies! Or, perhaps, it was their own sick attempt at a joke. We don’t want to hurt you, we just want to kill you!

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not just yet.

Another corner was taken with haste, and their nostrils were overwhelmed with the scents of rust and oil.

The garage was massive-- reaching further upwards than the shreds of sunlight filtering through dusty windows could reach with their furthest rays. Its concrete floor stretched out, seemingly, all the way to the horizon-- dotted only by support beams, and whatever scattered machinery and supplies the company had not deemed valuable enough to bring along.

The source of the scent of gasoline was quite rapidly made apart. Stacked haphazardly in the corner, red gas containers stood. Their reek alone made it well known that they were far from empty.

But the gas was far from Villain’s main concern regarding the garage.

In the past few days, they had become awfully good at finding exits. It was with a ruthless instinct that they scanned the room for one.

But, in the end, they reached a terrifying conclusion.

There was one exit. It was the same door as the entrance. The garage doors on the other side of the chamber had long since been chained shut, and there was no time for lockpicking.

The heroes flooded in.

It was with an exhausted hopelessness and steadfast stubbornness that they kept running forth. Of course, with their terrible luck, they did not make it very far. A rebar pipe caught their toes, sending them sprawling onto the concrete, pain shrieking from a thousand different, tiny wounds.

For a few seconds, Villain let themself breathe. They figured that, at the very least, they should let themself enjoy their last moments alive.

Their relaxation did not last long. They refused to die laying down. Trembling from exhaustion, pain, starvation, dehydration, and terror, all at once, they staggered to their feet. For a moment, their vision blurred, before solidifying once more.

Half a dozen heroes fanned out before the entrance, guarding it ruthlessly. Faux looks of concern painted their countenances.

From the array of aches and pains swarming Villain, a single one, all at once, made itself known. Something pressing up against their leg.

Their lighter.

Their trembling gaze flicked to the pile of glimmering red gas cans. It was behind them-- only a few steps back. If they could just...

“Villain!” The person in the front of the group called out-- Hero. “There’s nowhere else to go. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You just need to come with us. You can’t survive like this much longer, you know that!”

No. What they couldn’t survive was the heroes.

But, they didn’t have to.

Villain took a step back, inching towards the pile.

“Come on, buddy!” Another hero called. “What are you so afraid of?”

It was the heroes who should be afraid. Another step back.

“There’s nowhere to run, Villain.” Hero spoke once more. “Just come with us. No harm will come to you, I swear to it.”

No.

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not today.

They took the final step, until they were mere inches from the pile. With a well-placed kick, and a horrible clattering, the cans toppled from their precarious pyramid. The reek of gas grew tenfold as brown liquid spilled out, onto the concrete below.

Stepping back from the gasoline-- they were ready to go, not just yet-- they reached into their pocket. The heroes had no time to identify the object they pulled out. By the time they realized what had happened, the lighter had already been thrown.

The flame leapt into the air with such force that Villain was thrown back, tossed to the concrete like a ragdoll.

The faux compassion on the heroes faces turned to an emotion that was very, very real.

Fear.

Spreading so fast that its growth could be heard, the inferno pounced, grabbing onto the base of a wooden support beam and licking its way upwards.

“Everyone!” Hero shouted-- terror in their voice overpowered by sheer determination. “Get out! This building’s not stable.”

“W-what about you?”

“If I’m not out within five minutes, send someone in after me.”

“Are you certain?”

“We’re heroes. And, sometimes, that means saving villains, too.”

Despite their clear reluctance, the other heroes, one by one, nodded, allowing their terror to spur them to flee.

When the last of them was gone, only two remained in the garage. The villain and the hero.

Villain looked upwards, watching as the flame reached the top of the support beam and rippled onto the ceiling.

There were only two ways this could end. They knew that.

Either Hero lost their nerve and fled, allowing their prey to escape, or they both perished in the flames.

No matter which came to pass, there was only one thing that mattered:

They would not die by the hands of a hero.

“You’re scared.” Hero began. Another stupid speech. “I know. I know you’re scared. This last week has been hell for you, I know that. But it doesn’t have to go down like this. You can still make the right choice. 

Please. Come with me. I don’t want to hurt you. Believe it or not, I don’t want you to die!”

“You’re a bad liar, you know.” They croaked.

Villain’s lungs were already torn from gasping. The slowly-rising smoke only served to salt their wounds.

Before them, a flaming ceiling tile fell, spraying them with embers.

“You don’t want this! I know you don’t! You don’t want to die!”

“Why do you think I’m doing this?! Of course I don’t want to die, you fucking idiot!”

“Then come with me!”

“It’s like you don’t even hear yourself.”

The building shuddered as a support beam splintered and collapsed. The force of it sent Villain, once again, to the concrete, bathing their face in smoke. As they scrambled to their hands and knees, they could not help but let out a shuddering cough.

“Villain! Watch out!”

“Wh-”

The ceiling tile struck their head, burying them under its accompanying rubble.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Warmth... and music.

They awoke to warmth, and music.

The first of the two came in the form of something soft, heavy, enveloping them, making them feel as though they were buried within a cloud. The music, too, seemed to surround them-- there were no words to it, just the soft, lulling tone of a piano, accompanied by the occasional splash of waves.

It was confusion that first whispered to Villain, when their leaden eyelids at last agreed to open. Above them sat an off-white sky, stretching out to meet with a light blue wall. They blinked once more.

Where...

The chase the heroes the running the building the gas the fire the rubble the-

Villain jolted upright, tossing off of themself a heavy, fleece blanket. Trembling fingers gripped the mattress below them as they scanned the world around, instincts kicking in, searching frantically for an exit.

The room was small, walls colored a soft, baby blue, and lit by a pair of lamps with warm, orange bulbs. The few items of furniture were made of a light brown wood-- three small nightstands, two in corners, and one next to the bed in which Villain lay.

Next to one of the stands was placed a small writing desk and chair, while the other was accompanied by a potted plant, petals just starting to emerge from its buds. Embedded in one wall, a window stood, a small radio perched upon its sill.

The door was at the room’s far end, next to their bed. A wooden door with brass handle-- easy to break down.

But guarded.

Before the door, a figure stood-- a person dressed in a bright flannel, from the breast pocket of which stuck an overabundance of pens.

They did not look particularly strong, but, then again, neither did Villain. At the sound of their movement, the figure turned to face them, a smile growing upon their round face.

“I didn’t even notice you waking up.” They hummed. “Good morning.”

There were two options for escape: The door or the window. Neither was particularly desirable, but they had to choose one...

“Hey, buddy.” The stranger’s voice felt almost as warm as the fleece blanket. “You’re looking a bit like a deer in the headlights, there. I’m sure this is all a bit overwhelming, and I’m sure you’re pretty confused. I’d be confused too, trust me.”

No. There was no confusion in Villain’s mind. They were focused on one thing, the only thing that mattered: Getting out of here!

The flannel-wearing figure took a few steps towards the bed. In instinctual panic, the villain scrambled to their hands and knees, shuffling backwards until their spine was flush with the headboard.

“Hey, hey, shhh.” They hushed. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll stay right back here, okay?”

“L-Let me out of here!”

The figure frowned.

“Bud, I’m not sure that you’d last another day out there. Not in the state Hero found you in.”

Hero. Of course they were working for Hero.

“I’ll explain everything, alright bud? But let’s just start here. My name’s Doctor. What’s yours?”

Villain only then noticed that they were shaking like a leaf. Whatever this method of torture or interrogation or whatever it is was, they wanted no part in it. They just wanted to go home! To get out! Warm bed or not, this was a prison. They were sure of it.

But, the bed was comfortable, and there wasn’t a single rat in sight...

“How about this...” Doctor coaxed. “You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you what’s going on, okay?”

A trade. Information for information.

Was it worth it? They supposed there was little use in lying.

“V-Villain. My name’s Villain.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Villain.”

“Now, wh-what is this p-place?”

Doctor nodded.

“This is the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center. We’re in the city, right by the river. Next to the botanical gardens, if you know where that is.”

They were really telling them the location of their prison? Surely it would have been better to keep such a thing secret. That is, assuming they were telling the truth.

“I believe you’ve been asleep for about... seventeen hours.” Doctor glanced to their watch. “Yep, just about. You’ve been here for maybe half that time. After you got caught in the fire, Hero brought you to the hospital. They bandaged your wounds and brought you here. I hope you slept well.”

Villain almost laughed at that, before a realization struck them. They had slept well. Sure, remnants of the specter of fatigue still haunted them, but for the first time in days, they felt awake enough to think clearly.

But, this was still a prison.

Right?

Prisons didn’t usually have soft beds and fleece blankets, but...

No. It was a trick. This was a prison, and they were a prisoner.

“Let me go.” Villain insisted, though it was halfhearted. “Y-You can’t keep me here! I’m leaving. I need to leave!”

Doctor frowned again, biting their lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Villain, but for now, you’re going to have to stay here. But, I promise, you’ll like it here.” They sighed. “I know you’re scared, and confused, and a thousand other things. But, here, you’re safe. There’s other people here-- quite a few of them, in fact. And, at one point, they were all like you. But ask any one of them. This is the best place for you to be.”

Other people?

“Where are they? W-What are you doing to them?!”

Doctor smiled.

“They’re in our main wing, right now. I believe everyone is eating lunch right about now. I don’t know about you, but where I come from, lunch isn’t a form of torture.”

Villain pursed their lips.

“Then, where am I?”

“This is our arrivals wing. You’re going to stay here, for a few days. Until you’re comfortable, and we can make sure all that smoke is out of your lungs. Then you can join in with everyone else. I’m gonna move over to the side of the bed now, okay? I won’t touch you.”

Even with the warning, Villain couldn’t help but flinch as Doctor approached. They moved to the nightstand at the bed’s side, plucking a small, red box from its surface.

“Hero told me to give this to you, when you got up. It’s not exactly the most nutritious thing to start your day off with, but I think you deserve something tasty.”

They offered the box. After a moment of hesitance, Villain snapped it from their hands, drawing it close to their chest. Was it a threat? Some kind of warning? Morbid curiosity took hold of them, prompting them to open the box’s lid.

Chocolates.

A dozen chocolates, laid out in the design of a star.

“I can eat these?”

“Go ahead.”

Without hesitance, this time, they popped one of the candy pieces into their mouth. Its flavor overwhelmed them, strong enough to nearly knock them over. It’d been days since they’d eaten anything that didn’t come off a bush or from the dumpster.

“Um...” Villain looked back up, closing the box. “So, when are you going to kill me?”

Doctor laughed.

“Hero will be visiting tomorrow. With how long they can talk for, I think you’re only in danger of dying of boredom.”

This was a prison. Of course it was.

Yet, as they glanced down at the box of chocolates, they could not help but forget all thought of panic and escape.

[silversatoru]

the thin line between hope and despair

yelena x gn! reader

synopsis: you’re in love with yelena, and she feels nothing for for you. constant hook-ups and faded morals = very messy feelings

tags/warnings: nsfw, some smut?, angst, unrequited love, one-sided feelings, fuck buddies

word count: 2.5k

a/n: for my my sweet bby girl @brandmeyelena <3

Yelena knows what she’s doing with you isn’t right — on so many fucking levels. Taking advantage of your utter desperation for her over and over again when she knows damn well that she couldn’t care less about you. It wasn’t fair, especially for you, but she just couldn’t really find it in herself to feel sorry for someone so pitiful. You were so willing to devote yourself to her in exchange for mere crumbs of her affection, and it was pathetic. You left a sour taste in her mouth, a taste of sorrow and complete wretchedness, but you were also the perfect distraction. The perfect relief from all of her stress and all of her responsibilities with the volunteers. She was tired, and you were just so damn desperate to make her feel better — so how could she refuse? The answer was simple, she couldn’t.

That exact thought process is what landed her here today, with her fingers around your throat and your eyes rolled back into your head. She knows you love it too, being used like this — the way your cheeks grow flushed and your eyes get foggy when she cuts off the circulation to your brain. But she doesn’t do it for you — Yelena enjoys these things just as much as you do, her power hungry ego being fervently stroked by dominating you like this. Pinning you underneath of her and giving you orders made her feel in control — and that was perfect, because god knows she isn’t in control of anything else in her life right now.

Get down, she’d hiss at you, pointing to the floor with her long, slender index finger. Your pathetic frame would sink to your knees instantly, wordlessly doting to her every command. She’d lean back on her shoulders, her hips propped on the edge of the bed, and give you an expectant look. You know what to do. Do it, her voice would snarl, her empty eyes swirling with hunger. You’d feverishly obey, launching yourself forward and graciously opening your mouth for her pussy. You were dedicated to your craft, taking your time and ensuring that your tongue consumed every inch of her. Yelena’s head would fall back and, raspy, wet noises gurgled from her throat. She was entirely consumed by this twisted bliss — and she was a horrible monster for letting you do these things to her, but she felt far too good to care.

So now here you were, your tongue buried deep inside her while you worked desperately to make her feel better. She was quieter than usual today — the only things to leave her lips were small groans and half-assed insults. Things like the occasional “faster” while she pulled your hair, or “stupid slut” when you weren’t doing things quite right. The slander only made you work harder however, and honestly anything that came out of the blonde woman’s mouth was music to your ears. You stared up at her with rose-colored glasses, living in a delusional world where you truly believed Yelena cared about you.

It was a dreadfully fucked up dynamic — this relationship the two of you had, if it could even be called that. One of you lived in a terrible fantasy of what could be and the other was practically incapable of feeling human emotions. It was truly only a matter of time before the world started burning around the two of you.

A very short matter of time.

Yelena was spasming underneath of you now, warm juices and shaky convulsions racking through her body and into your mouth. You drove your tongue deep against her contracting walls, your eyes squeezed shut. A disgustingly sticky mixture of her fluids and your own saliva dripped down your chin as you finally pulled away, a bitter taste hanging on your tongue.

And Yelena was always quick to leave, she never stuck around any longer than she had to. She came, she came, and then she’d pull shitty excuses out of her ass as to why she needed to leave so soon. Those reasons more often than not consisted of one person — Zeke Yeager. Whether or not there was something romantic between the two, or if she was just highly devoted to him, you could never tell. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know, honestly, because the answer might just break your heart.

Why don’t you stay tonight, Lena? You looked over at her as she pulled her trousers up her long, gangly legs. You craved something deeper with her, something more than just occasional casual sex — but it was really too bad that she didnt reciprocate those feelings at all. Sorry, there's a meeting tonight. I have to go. She’d respond, her voice dull as she carelessly brushed you off and slipped on her boots.

Will Zeke be there? Your voice always got low when you talked about him, but you made intentional efforts to hide the jealousy in your tone. Of course he’ll be there, he is the leader, she’d state dully as if this was obvious, and maybe it was, but it still made your chest ache.

You spend a lot of time with him lately, even outside of meetings, you’d state your observations out loud for the first time. Confrontation wasn’t something you enjoyed, and you certainly weren’t any good at explaining your feelings either. But your heart was starting to nag you lately, and you needed to voice your opinions before it was too late.

We’re preparing for a war, her eyes grew incredibly narrow, try not to make such selfish accusations right now. The words were like daggers of guilt stabbing between your ribs. Yelena had a way with words — a shiny silver tongue that always made you believe what she said without a doubt. You started to believe that you were being selfish — after all the war was very real and Yelena was very involved, that's probably all it was.

You’re right, I’m sorry. I just wish you were around more. Your voice was much quieter now, shame and remorse churning in your stomach -- maybe you would have been better off not saying anything at all.

We’re busy. You have to understand where I’m coming from here. It’s hard for me to make time right now, she’d continue to spew nonsense into your impressionable ears. She didn’t like that you were starting to question her, not at all. She’d say whatever you needed to hear to keep you around at this point — she didn’t plan on losing her little fuck-toy anytime soon. If you needed a little affection to keep you complacent, then she’d just need to put on a little show for you.

Come here, I’m sorry, her tone grew softer, but not at all sincere. You helplessly sunk into her spindly arms, and she pulled you tight to her chest. Just hold on until after the war, okay? Once we make the world a better place, we can do whatever you want.

More false hope, false promises, and false reassurance. The war would be brutal, you’d probably die at some point in a terrible event of collateral damage. You’d die and then Yelena would never need to fulfil her empty promises -- it was that easy, and you’d never know the difference.

That sounds nice, you’d smile, your heart warming at the idea of living in a free world with Yelena by your side. You fell ignorantly for her words, missing every single warning sign and every single red flag. Maybe if you’d noticed the subtle darkness in her eyes, the strain in her tone, or the way she hugged you a little too roughly, you could have saved yourself from the ensuing heartbreak. Or maybe if you had realized that with you being a scout and her being a follower of Zeke, it was unlikely that the two of you would ever work out. But you stupidly refused to consider any of these things, and it was going to cost you your heart.

That fateful memory was a few months ago, and now the both of you were in Marley, anxiously waiting for Eren’s plan to unfold. You were partnered with your friend Connie, his lips twisting into a thin line as the two of you hid in the shadows on top of an industrial building. You were incredibly capable with your 3dm gear, and even more capable with the new gun technology, but you were practically useless with your head in its current state. You watched the streets with fervent eyes, dashing them up and down nearby alleyways and hoping for any sign of Yelena. The attack hadn’t even started yet, but not knowing her whereabouts made you incredibly uneasy. She was probably wherever Zeke was, of course, but you liked to think that wherever she was, she was worried about you too.

Yelena was hiding in plain sight, dressed in a traditional Marleyan Army uniform with fake facial hair wrapped around her chin. She did as she was ordered, trapping two of the titan shifters in a large hole and then retreating back to her position. She was focused solely on her task, and on Zeke and how she could ensure his safety, and honestly, the thought of you hadn’t crossed her mind once tonight.

When Eren’s attack came, it came suddenly and violently -- and it was like nothing you’ve ever seen before, or at least not since the colossal and armored titans attacked so many years ago. Before you could even take in the horrifying scene in front of you, Connie was grabbing your hand and ushering you to run, the two of you taking off with your 3dm gear. You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering as your body swung through the air, frantically searching the streets for the tall, blonde woman who owned your heart. But maybe you should have paid less attention to finding her, and more attention to where you were going.

Connie’s shrill scream shook you to your core, and at first you didn’t even notice the array of guns pointed right at the two of you. A group of Marleyan soldiers were lined up atop a building, every single nozzle of their firearms preparing to shoot at you and Connie. Your friend shot his gear downwards, swooping underneath the scope of the guns and shouting at you to follow him. And you tried, you really did, but you were horribly distracted and accidentally shot your gear into the very edge of a building. The hook crumbled the corner of the building and was unable to secure itself, sending you hurling to the ground beneath you. Your breath was wiped clean from your chest as you smacked against the ground, dust and dirt filling your lungs. Connie was forced to swing up onto a higher building, narrowly avoiding the bullets and unable to come down after you. Your bones ached as you peeled yourself off the ground, looking up just to see pieces of rubble hurling towards you. What the FUCK, Eren? You silently cursed out that irresponsible titan boy, scrambling to avoid the giant chunks of building that were quickly getting closer.

You thought you’d made it, your heart beat gushing in your ears as you launched yourself towards another building, only to be knocked back down by a slab of broken concrete. Pained yelps squeezed out from your throat as your body fell helplessly back to the ground. This fall did a number on you, your ears ringing and your head pounding with a dull pain. The large piece of rubble had crashed into one of your legs, rendering your leg immobile and absolutely crushing your gear. Connie couldn’t help you, not when saving you guaranteed his own demise — you needed to do this on your own, unless-

“Yelena!” You called out to the towering woman who was stumbling towards you. Her arm was wrapped around an injured Zeke, and she was working hard to carry him to safety. Levi must have rocked his shit again, you’d have to thank him for that if you made it out of this alive.

Yelena stopped momentarily when she saw your mangled leg, but not even an ounce of concern crossed her determined face. She looked you up and down, and then glanced down at Zeke as if she was weighing her options.

“I’m sorry,” She shot you a horribly unsypathetic look, dragging her gaze away from you and hurrying off with the injured blonde boy.

It was so simple, so short, and there wasn't the smallest hint of remorse in her voice. Your brain couldn’t process how easy it was for her to leave you there, your mouth hanging open in a small “o”. You would give your life for Yelena, and she didn’t even blink when you were faced with certain death — and that’s when it all started to set in. The delusional facade that you’d imagined between the two of you was shattering, small pieces of glass memories crashing and crumbling around you. The cruel owner of your pitiful heart felt nothing for you, and it had taken this long for you to finally realize.

All of the days and nights the two of you spent entangled in each other's arms had meant nothing. All of the time you spent with your lips locked against hers and her large hands caressing your body had been devoid of anything more than lust for her. Terrible embarrassment washed up inside of you as you recalled all of the sinful things you did for this cold-hearted, unfeeling woman.

Your motivation to fight was gone, your eyes locked onto Yelena’s tall figure as she ran further away and out of view. She’d picked Zeke over you again, she always did, and she always would. She practically worshiped him, like he was some kind of fucked up, twisted god. You weren’t sure why you ever thought you could compete with that.

In the midst of your complete breakdown, a firm arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into the air. Connie had come back for you, cold air stinging your face as the two of you shot up to the safety of a tall, nearby building.

“Fuck, y/n, stop being so careless! And I hope you’ll finally give up on that lanky bitch after she walked right past you like that,” he let out an exasperated breath, slumping behind a large brick wall.

“Sorry… thank you,” you mumbled, “You really shouldn’t have risked your life like that”.

“No, but that’s what people are supposed to do when they care about each other. Is it finally sinking in, that she's been using you for the past year? I tried to tell you so many time-,” He continued to ramble on in frustration.

Every one of his words poured salt into your already burning wounds, tears beginning to leak from your eyes. Yelena didn’t care about you, she never did — she’d never even sacrificed time for you, never mind compromising her or Zeke’s safety for you. And you were stupidly ignorant to ever think that she saw you as more than a toy she used to pass the time.

[stardancerluv]

Doubts

Side-Story

Summary: Reader had a world wind meeting with Roman…a kidnapping…passion…but now its almost two weeks since Roman and her were together. Reader is convinced she knows how Roman feels. While Roman, is wondering where Reader is.

Note: This chapter falls directly between parts & 3 of Creative Fervor. Roman is here is not used to being in a relationship or caring for someone other then himself.

If you have read Gotham Lockdown 2020 or Gotham Surviving the Pandemic 2021, 🤪 Roman has continued to grow as a character, while (my consistent) Reader has been along side him.

You had poured yourself your fourth glass of wine. You were finally feeling no pain. That was exactly where you needed to be as you tried to start your new project.

Roman chuckled. “To think I was going to woo you while we would talk business.”

His voice echoed your mind.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “You can still woo me, but I am all yours.” You could still hear your reply.

Your heart hurt. Why the fuck did it hurt. It honestly had all been a mistake. Thirteen long days since you and Roman came here and looked over what Jareth had done to your studio.

Seriously, his men had kidnapped you, albeit by accident and somehow you both had ended up fucking. He was so magnificent, the power he exuded. Your old infatuation had bubbled to the surface. You had not been in the right state. So what if he remembered you coming in that rainy night. You had not seen or heard from him.

Obviously, after a few quick fucks he had now. Just like all the other girls who apparently caught his eye. At least that is what you had read in the papers.

You refused to let yourself cry one more time. You were a lady, a woman. A casual fuck wasn’t exactly a bad thing, women did it all the time. And heck, he was one of the handsomest men in Gotham.

You could try and bop Bruce Wayne after all these years and have both men as a notch on your scissors. You threw your head back and chuckled. That thought had made you smile. Designer by day, torrid sexual liaisons with all the eligible men of Gotham at night. You chuckled again.

******

This was day thirteen. He paced in front of his desk. Where was she? Why had he not heard from you. Usually he had to push the girls away. But you, you just vanished.

“You can still woo me, but I am all yours.”

The memory of your sweet voice still echoed in his ear. Damn you! Usually he didn’t care but you were different. The memory of you tugged at him.

He wanted your perfume tickling his nose, he wanted to watch your eyes as he was in you. Damn, he wanted to also just talk to you. Something about you fascinated him.

“Zsasz!” Clenching his fists, he hollered.

“Yes boss.” He scratched the back of his head, after he entered his office.

“Was there any response to the flowers or the bolts of fabrics?”

“The what?”

“The fabric I had you order and send to Y/N… The fucking bouquets?”

He watched as the shorter man bowed his head. Rarely, did Zsasz ever look sheepish or even reluctant. But now that look washed over his face. He only ever saw it when he fucked up.

“Zsasz, what did you fucking do?” He snarled.

“I thought you were fucking kidding.”

Roman closed the distance. “What about ‘get a really nice bouquet and send it to Y/N’ was funny?”

The man didn’t look at him, his shoulders slumped.

“Or what about ‘I think these are some great fabrics, go and buy them from here and have them sent over to Y/N with my wishes’.”

“Nothing.” He barely looked at him.

“Then why didn’t you do it?”

“You’ve never done that before.” He could barely hear his voice.

“Man, when you fuck up, you fuck up.”

He stormed out of his office. He went over to his walk-in closet. He chose a fresh suit jacket. He ran a comb through his dark strands.

“Roman, you have a meeting in an hour.”

Roman stopped and turned. “Fucking cancel it. They can wait.”

He made it to the elevator and took it down.

Once there, he eyed the rack of keys.

“Sir, where can I drive you?” His driver, sat up and was alert.

“I’m driving today.”

He grabbed the keys to his ‘66 Mustang. Maybe you’d like that. Maybe the two of you could drive down to the wharf. But first the fashion district and then he’d grab some flowers.

*****

He sighed, shrugged out of his suit jacket and laid it in the passenger seat. He put the bolts of fabric in the back. Turning the corner, he found a florist. This was easier than he thought.

Finally, with a roar of his engine he began making it to the slice of Gotham where your studio was. He even smiled. This would be great, he’d explain the two of you would be back on.

*****

Sliding out of his car, he smoothed his hair and straightened his jacket once he slipped it back on. He grabbed the bouquet, went over and pushed the industrial bell. He stepped back and waited.

******

You turned up your music, feeling a good warmth from the wine. You wiggled happily about as you got to work.

Soon, your hand was moving this way or that way. The Mad Hatter’s chair soon took shape before you.

*****

He pushed the button again. Still no response. He pressed his lips together.

Perhaps he could see if your door was open. If you were out, maybe he could leave it all and then call or perhaps leave a note.

He brought a gloved hand down to the doorknob and he stopped. He hesitated. He could just walk.

Like a ghost, he remembered how strong you looked when he had first approached and even stronger when you saw the full extend of what that Jareth did to you. On principle alone, when he got back into town, he would be handling him personally.

He nodded to himself. He had to get to know you better. Inhaling, he twisted the knob. He could feel the cold metal through the fabric of his gloves.

Music almost as loud as it would be at the club greeted him. No wonder you had not heard the bell.

He closed the door behind him. At a fair distance he stopped and called to you. He didn’t want to startle you.

“Y/N.” He called out.

Nothing. Had you even heard him. He shouted again. Nothing.

As he looked around and he came closer, he saw you and that you had painted over the spray painted vulgarities Jareth had left in his wake. The paint was newish, it made his nose twitch.

Placing the bouquet down, he stopped. Something prickled at him. This was new to him. He looked back at the door, then looked back at you. The way your curves were under your slouchy shirt, the way your shorts were way too short. He was reminded of how much he really wanted all of you.

The urge to go up behind you filled his mind’s eye. He’d let his hands slip under your shirt, you’d feel so soft and warm. It made his breath catch, he bit the inside of his cheek. Damn, he really wanted to nuzzle your throat. Or perhaps he’d lay a hand on it, delighting in how his glove would look against your soft pale skin. His stomach churned.

He watched as you sat back and looked at your canvas. Now or never. He closed the distance.

He placed his hands on your shoulders. “Hi baby.” He managed before you screamed and managed to free yourself from his hands. Leaping up, you were flat against your easel. Your eyes were wide, darting around for an escape. But then when you saw him, your face relaxed. But the expression he could not read.

He stepped back and raised his arms. “Hi baby.”

Now you were the one who closed the distance. You pushed him. He was so shocked he actually stumbled back. But then he composed himself and grabbed your by your wrists before you could push him again.

“What kind of greeting is this?” You wiggled and he wasn’t going to let you go. “Stop.”

Your eyes were aflame, damn if that wasn’t sexy. “I’m not a convenient fuck.” You snarled. He could smell something, maybe wine mingling with your perfume he had so missed.

He brought your hands down. He knew sometimes it worked for him. His migraines made his anger explode. It was only once or twice that he'd allow Black Canary or Zsasz to calm him this way. You continued to wiggle. “Stop!”

“No.” Your voice broke.

“You’re not.” He shook your hands as he continued to hold them and brought them down again. “Zsasz fucked up and never sent my messages.” His voice was firm. Some of the anger he had bottled up came through in his voice.

You stilled. “What messages?” You raised your eyebrows, as the flames that were still burning in your eyes met his.

“That I wanted to see you again.”

“Really?” He had to admit, seeing a breathlessness coming over you was delightful. He finally let go of your wrists.

“Yes, damn it.” He ran his fingers through your hair. “I had told him to send you some flowers. And when I didn’t hear from you after those, I sent some fabrics.

Seeing you rub your wrists, he felt a little bad about that. Though the idea of pinning them above you entered his mind and he did like that.

You put a hand on your hip. “Really?”

He nodded. “To correct his fuck up,” He gestured to the bouquet on the table. “I brought those. And in my car are some fabrics I thought you might like.”

******

You followed him out to his car and gasped. “Roman? Where’s the rolls?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want the driver in tow. I want this between us.” You watched as he pressed his lips together, his eyes softened. “I should have never delegated when it came to you.”

Those words brought a sweet beat to your heart.

“You are a very busy man.” You acknowledged.

“I am, but...” His voice trailed off. He opened the door then. He made a grand sweeping gesture. “These are the fabrics.”

Shock filled you as you looked over the dynamic array of fabrics. There were several types, colors and patterns. You leapt at Roman, hugging him tight. You felt as he stiffened but then relaxed. You smiled up at him. “They all look so wonderful." You enthused.

He smiled, it was that kind of smile that hit you. It was soft, it reached the blue in his eyes. He was behind it. The wine still strong in your system made tears prickle and fall down your cheeks. The smile disappeared.

“I- did I fuck this up too?” His voice was almost hollow.

“No… No. I just drank too much wine. These… These...” You let one arm drop so you could gesture. “These are wonderful. Thank you so much.”

You don’t know what came over you, but right there you went up on your tiptoes the best that you could and you peppered his chin with kisses.

He chuckled and actually kind of wiggled. “Y/N, ok… Ok. That tickles. Let’s um… Get these inside.”

******

Clad now only in his t-shirt and slacks, your messy ponytail was gone and your hair loose. Like Roman preferred. You were cuddled in his lap.

You both had put away the fabrics, after looking at them all. They went where they should and that took a little pulling and tugging till they were all tucked away. So now you two sat and rested.

“Is my baby going to tell me what she has been up to while we were apart?”

You rose your head from the wonderful nook of his shoulder and throat. “I tried working on the Mad Hatter’s chair, but I missed you too much.”

“So you missed me?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I wanted to spend time with you. How, I have no idea.” You shrugged. “But somehow.”

“We’ll think of something. I’d like you to spend the night.” A smirk that sent butterflies, curled his lips.

“Oh?”

His eyes twinkled. “Yes. We have more catching up to do.”

@spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @nebulastarr @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97-blog1 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @professionalclown123 @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @sioniss @mrskenobi19 @bdffkierenwalker

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 18)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 5308 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Wedding weekend starts now and I know you’re all very excited! Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 17 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Sweat trickles down your temple as you climb up the stairs from the subway, inhaling a deep breath of fresh air. It was a little thick but a thousand times better than the overwhelming stench of sweat and other odors from those that didn’t understand the concept of deodorant. The sun was pounding on you for the rest of the walk home, as your heart and mind raced, calculating if there was enough time to pack and eat something before you had to leave. This weekend may not bring a reprieve from the heat but at least things would be able to slow down.

In preparation for the wedding this weekend you had been working as much as possible, spending most of Memorial Day at the hospital to get a jump on making up for some hours, and getting to Stark Industries a bit early each day in order to get your proposals for an upcoming project completed. You weren’t drowning yourself in work to avoid Bucky, nope, that definitely wasn’t it.

Technically you weren’t avoiding him, he kept in touch during the week through messages, making sure you were all set for this weekend. When he asked if you wanted to grab food you told him the truth, that you couldn’t because you were too exhausted. If he asked last week you would have gone out with him despite your exhaustion but ever since you witnessed one of Bucky’s thousand hookups in your face this past weekend you weren’t in any mood to see him.

It was better to keep the distance, allowing the time you spent apart to let the logical side of your brain take the reins from your heart and stop it from falling for someone you know you shouldn’t. None of this was new. You knew exactly who Bucky was before you even met him, hearing the revolving door of women screaming out every night. He was a nice person, a good friend, but someone to date? Never.

Bucky: hey.. the trains @ 4:19 so you wanna head out a quarter to?

Somehow he always texts when you’re thinking about him… or maybe you just think about him too much.

You responded quickly, taking advantage of the time you didn’t think you had to make something quickly. In between bites of a sandwich you ran around your apartment, gathering together the things you would need through Sunday.

“Fuck!” you barked in response to the knock at your door. It wasn’t even three o’clock, did you read Bucky’s text wrong?

With worry settling on your brow you opened the door, relieved to find Wanda standing there instead.

“How’d you get in?” you asked curiously, letting her inside your apartment.

“Hello Wanda. How was moving, Wanda?” she said, mocking with sarcasm.

Your hands came up in playful defense, “Sorry, sorry.” You laughed, giving Wanda a real greeting as you pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry I haven’t checked in. How was moving? Are you all settled in at Sam’s?”

“Hell no,” she laughed, making herself comfortable on your couch. “Unpacking is like fighting a hydra, empty one box and two more take its place.”

You offered her something to drink along with your services to help unpack her never ending boxes when you get back.

“That would be great!” she said, taking the glass from your hand. “Anyway, Clint let me in because you didn’t respond to my texts. I thought maybe Bucky was here and you might have been… busy.”

The smirk her mouth pulled into made you roll your eyes. “Wanda, no… just no. There is nothing between me and Bucky, okay? You saw that girl last weekend. That’s what he wants. One and done, nothing more.”

Her lips pressed together as her head shook ever so slightly. “Mmmhmm.” With a hand digging in her bag she spoke, “Well, all I’m saying is you should be prepared, just in case.”

Wanda threw whatever she pulled out of her bag towards you. Catching the small box in your hands your eyes widened at the logo. “Condoms? Really?” you huffed, throwing them back at her.

“What? I want you to be safe!”

You turned away from her, taking a moment to compose yourself. Wanda didn’t know how bad you were feeling this week, you really were too exhausted to reach out to anyone. Maybe if you had a chance to speak she would have known not to joke about you and Bucky.

It’s not completely unreasonable, the idea that you could have sex with him but you didn’t want to be another girl on his mile long list. You wanted something he could never give, and the fact that your hopes were up and subsequently crushed in front of you didn’t make any of this easier.

“Take those back Wan, I promise you I won’t be needing them.”

“Fine,” she huffed.

Wanda helped you go over what you packed to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything.

“Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, razor…”

“Oh shit, yes. Gotta shave my legs tomorrow.” You grabbed the bag that held your toiletries, taking it to the bathroom with you to pack your razor and anything else you might have forgotten.

Wanda looked over your bag pulling out the clutch you packed, staring at the glittery reflection of sunlight on your walls. “You should wrap this in something,” she called out, waiting for you to return towards the bed. “If not, the glitter will get everywhere.”

She made a good point. You searched through your closet for something you could place in it and handed it to her, thankful that your dress was still hanging up and unaffected by the ubiquitous glimmering speckles.

“Oh shit I almost forgot!” Wanda went back into her bag to dig out something you actually wanted.

She handed you a beautiful gold necklace meant to wear down the open back of your dress, with four diamonds spaced out evenly along the dainty chain. “You’re going to look incredible. Bucky won’t be able to keep his– ”

“Wanda! Nothing is going to happen between me and Bucky!” you shouted, cringing at the fact that he probably heard you through the walls. With a groan you squeezed your fists tightly, releasing them with a heavy breath. “Those condoms better be in your bag, okay? I’m serious.”

She pulled the box from her bag, scrunching her face with her tongue slightly sticking out at you. A smile broke the hardened look on your face, you could never stay mad at her. Before she left Wanda hugged you, wishing you a nice weekend and thankfully she didn’t mention Bucky anymore.

Everything but your dress was packed so you texted Bucky to let him know you were ready. He was bringing a garment bag for his suit so he offered to put your dress in there as well. A few minutes later you heard the knock at your door and remembering you locked it after Wanda left you had to open it up for him.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, staring wide-eyed at Bucky who sported a new look– short hair!

His head hung down, scrunching his eyes shut to avoid any more of your reaction. He hadn’t cut his hair in years and honestly he never really planned on it but something changed over the week and Bucky knew exactly what it was.

Last weekend surrounded by all of his friends who were happily coupled up really showed Bucky what he was missing and the run in with Whitney reinforced everything about how he’s been living his life and what he wants to change. Bucky wanted a relationship and he was desperate to start one with you.

He couldn’t believe that after all these years of screwing around and closing off his heart that he was able to find someone he could trust with his heart. It’s a crazy thought, for Bucky Barnes, the man who thought he’d live life as a bachelor to have these desires but he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. His revelation came with a need for change.

If Bucky wanted a fresh start he needed to let go of the past, cutting away the dead ends in more than one way. He deleted all the numbers from his phone from the girls he has no interest in sleeping with any more. He deleted the apps from his phone because he didn’t want to meet anyone else, he already found the perfect person and he was sure he had seen sparks in your eyes, the same ones that set off fireworks inside of him anytime you were together.

But this weekend wasn’t going to be about convincing you to date him. He was genuinely happy to have you as a companion to his cousin’s wedding but if there is something between you (and Bucky really hopes his suspicions are true) he would let things happen naturally. And if it’s not meant to be he’ll be there like he always was, as your friend that wants to see you happy, no matter how badly it hurts.

“You cut your hair!”

He grimaced, clenching his teeth together with worry. “You hate it right?” He ran his hand through the short crop, what used to be long strands now a fluff of brown on top of his head.

“No, no, I think it looks great. It’s just… you look so different!” His anxious smile made you clarify your words. “You look great Bucky, honestly. I really like it, I just have to get used to it.”

The soft smile on your face reassured Bucky that his haircut wasn’t a mistake. Deleting apps is one thing but he couldn’t reattach his hair.

You placed your dress in his garment bag, still a mystery to Bucky as it was wrapped in white plastic and then you were off to Penn Station. A large crowd rushed down to the platform of the Long Island Railroad when the train was announced and you had to walk fast down to a further train car to get seats.

Bucky hung the garment bag on the rack above before settling down beside you. He was all prepared with tickets on his phone, declining your offer to pay him. He insisted everything was on him this weekend since you were his guest so you didn’t argue much.

During the long train ride Bucky began to tell you about the people whose wedding you were attending. His cousin Scott was marrying Hope Van Dyne, the daughter of his new employer.

“This is Scott’s second marriage actually. He got divorced after he went to prison.” Your eyebrow quirked at Bucky’s remark. “Scott found out his company was stealing from customers so he hacked their system to pay ‘em back. He did a good thing, shouldn’t have gone to jail in my opinion but anyway, it didn’t help his marriage, ‘specially since he couldn’t see much of his little girl.”

Scott had a daughter named Cassie who he was now able to see regularly since he and his ex Maggie had reconciled and according to Scott she’s going to be the cutest flower girl ever. Bucky isn’t sure how many people would be at the wedding, only that it was taking place on the North Shore of Long Island in a beautiful venue off the water. The hotel Bucky found was about twenty minutes away, something moderate and comfortable for the weekend.

“So, my parents offered to drive us to the wedding, if that’s okay, but I’m assuming they’ll leave early so we’ll probably have to Uber it on the way back.”

“Yeah that’s fine,” you replied. “I was going to meet them at the wedding anyway so we might as well get the awkward introductions out of the way first.”

“About that…” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, feeling goosebumps prick at his skin. “They actually wanted to pick us up from the train and go for dinner.” He turned to face you, biting his lip as he tried to sense how you were feeling about it. “I can tell them no if you don’t want to.”

Bucky appeared to be more nervous than you’ve ever seen him before and it finally hit you why, he’s never had his parents meet anyone before. Do they know about his lifestyle? Running through women like fire through a haystack. Your curiosity took the lead, wanting to see Bucky sweat a little under the heat of his parents' possible interrogation.

“No, I’d love to!” you answered, trying to hide the sly smile that started to creep its way on your face.

“Cool, yeah…” Bucky responded with failing confidence at trying to hide the fact that he wished you would have declined.. “I’ll text them now.”

More people filed into the train at the next stop, sharply dressed white collar workers looking to get a jump on the weekend even if it was just before rush hour. A man squeezed into the seat beside Bucky, making him encroach on your space a little.

You could tell he was uncomfortable in the middle seat, his muscles stiffening to keep his legs as close together as possible and also not play accidental footsie with the woman in front of him. By shifting your body you were able to give Bucky a little more space at the cost of getting closer, leaning into his shoulder.

With a few more adjustments you both found a comfortable position though Bucky can’t say his nerves had gotten any better. You spent most of the ride that way leaving Bucky’s brain to imagine several scenarios of you snuggling close to him; his arm tucked around you, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses from your temple, down your cheek until he reached those perfect lips.

“Is that our stop?” you asked, breaking him from the trance where he was indulged in fantasies.

“Uh yeah, comin’ up.”

Grabbing your bags you made your way towards the doors waiting to exit. Bucky checked his phone, finding a message from his parents that were already there. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, his stomach sinking like an anchor as he realized what was about to happen, and worse he hadn’t told you something important.

You began walking ahead of him down the stairs from the platform and Bucky rushed behind. With his hand on your shoulder you turned around to find worry written all over his face. “I have a confession to make. He sighed, “My– ”

“James!” A soft bubbly voice called out and Bucky turned his head to find a woman on the next block waving both arms in the air and calling him over.

“James?” you questioned under your breath as you walked over to the woman who was clearly his mom.

She was half a foot shorter than him, with shoulder length hair that reminded you of Bucky’s but with a slightly brighter color. Her eyes crinkled with her mouth opening to a huge grin.

“Your hair!” she exclaimed, cupping both sides of his face to examine his new look up close. “You look so handsome.”

She lifted her heels to bring herself closer to him and Bucky met her halfway for the distance so she could give him a kiss on the cheek. You stood there smiling as you watched the cute exchange.

When they pulled apart her gaze came to you, another smile stretching across her face. “James, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Bucky cleared his throat nervously, “Uh, yeah sorry Mom, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my mom Winifred.”

“Call me Winnie dear. It’s a pleasure to meet you, James told us all about you.”

“Oh really?” you replied, cocking your head towards James who clearly had some explaining to do.

Bucky swiftly changed the topic as he saw his father’s SUV approaching the curb. As he opened the passenger door for his mother you wondered if he was showing off or not. Then again Bucky had no reason to try and impress you. Your friendship from the start has been completely platonic, except for a shared kiss on New Years.

Considering the first encounter you had, where you awkwardly told him his “guests” were always so loud, Bucky had probably figured there was no point in barking up that tree with you. And he was right, there wasn’t. You’re not interested in becoming another notch on his belt.

Bucky’s father George turned around to greet you after you settled in and he bore a striking resemblance to Bucky, sharp jawline, cleft chin and piercing blue eyes. His smile was different though, still a very warm and friendly one but there was always something about the way Bucky smiled that makes your heart skip a beat. Made. It used to do that but not anymore.

In no time you were at a diner, being seated next to Bucky in a booth across from his parents. Right away they began asking about The September Foundation; apparently Bucky really has told them a lot about you.

“That sounds like a wonderful opportunity to enrich so many young lives,” Winnie said.

“And speaking from the social work field, it’s a great alternative to keep kids active and away from harmful situations. A lot of the programs are STEM based but since that doesn’t appeal to everyone I’ve also worked out a homework help program, where kids can connect with a teacher on-site or through video conferences for extra help.”

Lost in the joy of discussing your work you completely missed the way Bucky was staring at you, seeing your face shine brighter than the sun. Winnie didn’t miss it though, as her eyes flitted over towards Bucky’s, catching him in the act which caused him to look away as an embarrassing shade of pink dusted his cheeks.

“October is our official opening even though we were aiming for September, not because of the name but to coincide with the start of the school year. Though we plan on keeping it open all year round, if we can get the donations of course.”

A proud smile spread across George’s face, as if he was listening to the accomplishments of his own child, “I have no doubt that you will.”

Bucky’s blush deepened knowing you had his parents' approval, not that he meant for this. He told them you were just friends, neighbors, that’s all, nothing more. Despite the details of your life he couldn’t help but tell them; how incredibly devoted you were to helping people, how smart, talented and funny you are… how beautiful. Yeah, he may have let that one slip out but it didn’t matter, you were only friends, sadly.

His thoughts were interrupted by a server coming around to take everyone’s order and thankfully the conversation had changed to his sibling Rebecca, giving his cheeks time to return to their normal shade.

“They’re coming tomorrow, right?” Bucky asked.

“Flying out in the morning and has to be back for work Monday,” Winnie began, “Rebecca was just promoted to Director of Avian Care.”

“That’s great ma.”

“It is, but it means they’ll be even busier than before, so next time when they’re in town James you better stop what you’re doing and come over. It’s bad enough you didn’t come over for Thanks– ”

Bucky interrupted with a vomit of sounds to stop his mom from completing her sentence, revealing the lies he had told everyone about his plans for Thanksgiving. “I promise from now on when Bex is in town I will always make time to see them, okay?”

Nervous inflection took over and he cleared his throat, taking a sip of water to clear it away. An opportunity to change the subject had come up as his mom took out her phone.

“You got a new one?” he asked, nudging his chin towards the device in her hands.

“She didn’t need it,” George added, ranting about the high price. “Your mom thinks she’s a photographer now.”

Winnie playfully nudged his arm, cracking a smile as she told him to knock it off. “I can become one if I want to. The camera has a lot of new features... if only I can figure out how to use them.”

You and Bucky shared a smile, an unspoken look that remembered previous conversations about your parents and technology.

“Hang on, let me try something,” Winnie whispered quietly under her breath and before you realized it she had taken a picture. “Look how good that came out!” she beamed, showing off her phone to George who smirked.

She revealed the image to you and Bucky, the moment you just shared, gazing at each other with a smile that shined all the way through your eyes. A lump settled in the back of your throat as you stared at the picture; somehow seeing it from an outside perspective opened your eyes to the truth. The feelings you had for Bucky were written all over your face, no matter how much you tried to hide them and the fact that his expression mirrored yours made you feel conflicted.

His parents knew things about your life that you never expected him to share with them. Does he do that with all his friends? Probably, right? Because you were just his friend. Bucky doesn’t date, you repeat in your mind over and over. But friends don’t look at each other like that.

The jarring thoughts battled in your mind as you stood silently, an innocent bystander in the war for truth with your heart on the line. Looking back at George and Winnie didn’t help at all, not when he leaned in to peck a kiss on his wife’s lips, crinkles surrounding his eyes as he looked at Winnie in a similar manner, the way lovers see each other.

As dinner finished his parents insisted on picking up the check, and after another short drive they dropped you off at the hotel, with plans to speak tomorrow before picking you up. Walking into a hotel with Bucky was something you never expected to be doing but you tried to keep the awkwardness inside.

“Uh, hi,” Bucky said to the man behind the counter, placing his bag on the ground, still holding the garment bag over his shoulder. “Checking in, James Barnes.”

How can you even think Bucky likes you if he wasn’t even telling you his real name? Your thoughts were interrupted seeing Bucky struggle to take out his wallet with only one hand. You offered to hold the garment bag as he handled the check in process.

“Alright Mr. Barnes, we have you staying for two nights. Check out is eleven, breakfast is available in our lobby from six to nine-thirty. Your room is number 342. If you need anything please don’t hesitate to call the front desk.”

He thanked the man and took back the garment bag from your hand as you walked towards the elevators, stepping inside as the doors opened with a ding. He pressed the button for the third floor, looking around everywhere but to you. The silence was quickly broken as you spoke.

“So… James is it?” You turned towards him as a smirk pulled at your lips.

He sighed, smiling as he shook his head. “I knew this was coming.” He swiped at his chin, chuckling under his breath before he began. “My name is James but no one calls me that. Well, except for my parents.”

“So where did Bucky come from? Is that your stage name?” you teased.

“Ha ha,” he said dryly. “I grew up with a friend named James and since my middle name is Buchanan I sorta became Bucky.” A boyish smile crossed his face.

The door opened and Bucky followed your lead to find the room. The card unlocked the door and you stepped inside happily surprised that there were in fact two beds. You didn’t think Bucky lied when he said he was booking this but the scenario did play in your mind. There must have been a mistake and now there’s only one bed, I guess we’ll have to share. At least Bucky didn’t pull anything scummy like that.

The garment bag was hung in the closet and then you threw your bags onto the bed closest to the window, laying back on the moderately soft blanket that was meticulously tucked in.

“You up for a walk?” Bucky’s question prompted you to lean back on your elbows. “There’s a CVS down the block, I wanted to grab some drinks and stuff.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You popped up from the bed, ready to go, taking the extra room key to place in your bag just in case. The white and red illuminated sign was visible from when you stepped out onto the street, and beyond it was a beautiful sunset, the fiery orange sky licked at the clouds above, with blue trickling through like a stream of water.

“I’m in the mood for chips, you want some?” Bucky asked, as you entered the store.

“Yeah, chips sound good and maybe cookies?”

The exaggerated batting of your eyelashes combined with the innocent smile that stretched along your face made Bucky let out a chuckle of laughter.

“Fine, but you’re eating the cookies in your bed. I don’t want crumbs in mine.”

“Oh and chips don’t make crumbs? I guarantee you’ll get tiny flecks of potato chips all over that bed.”

“No, you’re wrong Y/N,” he said, placing his hand on your shoulder, “‘Cause I’m getting Doritos.”

You laughed along with him, browsing the aisles until you found what you needed. Doritos, chewy chocolate chip cookies, a few protein bars and a small package of almonds (to stay healthy of course), along with some Gatorade and flavored water, split between a few bags, with Bucky carrying the heavier items.

“My water’s going to explode if you keep swinging the bag like that Bucky.”

With a mischievous gleam in his eye he said, “Oh, like this?” He shook the bag that held the carbonated water as you pleaded for him to stop.

“I’m gonna make you open it!” you said through laughter.

You didn’t, insisting that it would be fine if you let it sit until tomorrow, but it did mean Bucky would have to share his Gatorade tonight. He poured two cups, placing them on the nightstand in between the beds and tossed the package of cookies onto your bed.

Opening up your bag you pulled out pajamas, along with a bag of toiletries you took to the bathroom to set out. While you were in the bathroom Bucky got comfortable, toeing off his sneakers, and changing out of jeans into loose basketball shorts. He kept his t-shirt on even though he felt a little hot.

He saw your reflection in the mirrored closet opposite the bathroom door, smiling as he noticed your pajamas, a plain shirt, not too loose worn with pink cropped bottoms decorated with happy smiling faces on all types of breakfast foods; a smiling stack of pancakes with a syrup spilling over the edge, a happy frosted donut, bacon and eggs holding hands with beaming smiles.

“You have to wear those when we get breakfast,” he said, a smile pulling even wider across his face the closer you got.

“No way!” you laughed. “You wear ‘em.”

“I think I will,” Bucky grinned.

Propping up the pillows on your bed, you sat back, pulling back the foil of the package to take out a cookie. The remote was on your side so you flipped through the channels to find anything that might keep you both entertained.

The bag of Bucky’s chips crinkled as he opened them, digging his hand in the bag. It wasn’t long after that he craved something sweet. “Cookie?” he asked, sucking the orange powder off his fingers.

“I thought you didn’t want crumbs in your bed.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah yeah… well I like cookies more than I hate crumbs.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Fine, but only if I can have some Doritos.”

Bucky scooted over from the center of the bed. “Fine, c’mere. Might as well have just one bed covered in crumbs.”

You smiled, tossing the remote to him as you climbed out of your bed and into his. Only when you were sitting so close did you realize how weird this felt. It shouldn’t though, you’ve been close to Bucky before, closer even, but since you’ve acknowledged your feelings you’ve become more aware of how being near him makes goosebumps prickle across your skin.

But this was nothing, just an easier way to share snacks. Nothing more.

“Go back!” you said, as Bucky was flipping through channels. “Look! It’s you!”

The Music Man was on, Bucky’s namesake for when he first moved in. Bucky looked past your finger that was pointing towards the screen towards the main character “Professor” Harold Hill.

“You think I’m a con man?” he questioned, his brows furrowing as his lips pulled down into a sad pout.

Though he looked concerned you saw the smallest twitch in the corner of his lips and decided to tease him some more.

“You didn’t even tell me your real name so…”

His frown broke out into admitted laughter. As Bucky stared at the way your smile reached your eyes he felt his own lips form a soft one, letting out a sigh that made his heart skip a beat. “You know it now.”

The gaze between you was held for longer than you should have let it, your heart urging you to lean in and press your lips to his again, to feel the sweet relief of the way his soft lips caressed your own. Against your wishes you felt your eyes break contact with his for a brief moment, glancing at his lips, your tongue delicately sneaking out to wet your lips… that is until your mind took control of the reins again.

Clearing your throat you dug your hand into the Doritos, keeping your mouth busy in a different way and Bucky shrugged off whatever was about to happen. He grabbed a few chips for himself, knowing he was not going to push you into something you didn’t want.

A hint of tension lingered in the air but Bucky diffused it quickly, joking, “And anyway, Harold Hill can’t even read music so that was a pretty poor choice of a name to call me.”

A smile eased its way onto your face again. “Well I didn’t call you Harold Hill, I called you the Music Man, which was a shorter way of saying ‘my annoying new neighbor that plays every instrument known to man through our thin walls every night.’”

“Not every instrument.”

You chuckled. “Right, right. You don’t do horns.”

Bucky laughed back, the boyish smile on his face retreating slowly as he asked, “Am I still annoying?”

Your answer was halted as you appraised him, eyes narrowed, lips pursed tightly in an attempt to make him nervous, but you couldn’t hold a straight face for very long.

Breaking out into a smile you couldn’t hide the truth, “No, definitely not.”

It’s amazing how far you’ve come with Bucky, from silently cursing him out in your mind everyday to forming a friendship, one close enough that brought you to this situation that has your heart and mind dueling in a battle for the path you should take.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night, when all you wanted to do was hop into Bucky’s bed, lay your head on his chest and cuddle. Instead you wrapped the blanket around yourself and rolled over, knowing that no matter what side won a part of you would still lose.

PART 19

[brattyfics]

Cape Disappointment | Part One

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Black!OC [Chantel Williams]

Summary: Miguel doesn’t rescue a damsel in distress because Chantel Williams is not a damsel in distress.

Warnings: None yet.

Chantel Williams was a lot of things. Quirky, witty, sarcastic. Condescending, impulsive, sometimes even chaotic. She could be all those things and more, but she refused to be anyone’s victim.

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m not a damsel in distress…” She chanted over and over in a low tone. 

On the side of a low traffic road, snow raining down on her head, Chantel willed the words to be true. Unfortunately, she remembered very little of what her Papa taught her about cars, eyeing the confusing parts under the hood with frustration.

Papa was a school teacher but he worked as a shade tree mechanic on the weekends to be able to afford dance classes for little Chantel. Teaching was his passion through and through. He would talk her ear off in the car on the way to recitals or while she did homework on the bench in his workshop. Being a bratty kid, she learned to tune him out when the topic didn’t interest her and not for the first time she regretted not soaking up more of Papa’s wisdom before he passed. 

If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the road with no solution in mind. Empty handed and no closer to fixing the car, she shuffled through the snow. It wasn’t much warmer inside the car despite the thick North Face coat she wore with a matching hat and pair of gloves. She was sure she resembled a wet dog as she shook the snow off, not wanting the ice to melt into water droplets that would surely sting. 

Just a week earlier, she’d splurged on the fanciest new smart phone after losing the older model at a dinner party. Even with all its promised features, it was useless. No signal and no nearby WiFi networks to connect to meant she couldn’t call her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend for help even if she wanted to. She couldn’t even call a tow truck! 

Pride. 

Another one of Chantel’s many traits. She liked to think of it as a positive thing. It kept her from being desperate, saved her from being dependent on others for her happiness. No one else seemed to agree her pride was a good thing. 

Among the naysayers was her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend, Adam. Pride was what had led her to take off from the Yurt they shared on their week-long winter break getaway to race back to her industrial loft in the heart of Seattle despite the weather advisory. She would never admit it to anyone else, but she realized her pride didn’t always serve her well. 

If not for her bruised ego, it would have been funny that her car had chosen to break down a few miles north of Cape Disappointment State Park. It was where she had been staying with Adam. The yurt was too far away to walk back to in the snow but still close enough that it only made sense to stay there for the night once the car issues were resolved. She wasn’t looking forward to ending the night with him. 

Remembering Papa’s belief in God showing up when most needed, Chantel sent up a quick prayer. She really hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long for someone else to come down the otherwise deserted road. Winters in Washington were fairly mild so she wouldn’t lose her extremities to hypothermia or anything crazy like that, but she’d certainly suffer by way of the shivers. 

Any sane person was cuddled up next to the fireplace in their cabin with a bowl of chili, or participating in heat-inducing sexual activities in their yurt to keep warm, not on the road driving. It was only natural for her thoughts to snowball into all the types of un-same people she could run into. 

Indigenous women from Washington and Canada went missing far too often on roads just like the one she had so conveniently broken down on. Chantel had a bad habit of researching everything there was to know about topics when they peaked her interest and she knew too much about human trafficking in the area to not feel a considerable amount of fear. 

“That would be my luck.” She muttered meanly to herself, resolving that whatever happened would be her own fault. 

It wasn’t like a whole lot of people would come looking for her anyway. She had a large group of friends in Seattle, but she kind of had a reputation for taking off without saying much. She hadn’t even told anyone about the weekend excursion to Cape Disappointment! The family she had left she wasn’t close to, and by the time Adam realized she hadn’t made it back home it would be too late. 

Yellow headlights bathed the narrow road, the light blinding her the closer it got. Her hazard lights blinked red, signaling that she was broken down, but Chantel second guessed whether she wanted the help. 

“I’m going to be a sex trafficking victim all in the name of independence. Way to go, idiot.” 

Her fingers fumbled around in the gigantic backpack she’d been using as a purse for the weekend, hastily pulling at the zippers until she found what she was looking for. A purple taser she purchased on Amazon for a whopping ten dollars. She doubted it would stop anyone in their tracks, but it was better than nothing. 

It turned out the man who knocked on her window wasn’t an axe wielding serial murdering rapist, or at least he didn’t appear to be. She tucked the small device into her side as the ridiculously handsome middle aged man with a salt and pepper beard smiled at her through the foggy glass. 

He looked harmless enough, sporting a pair of smart designer glasses and what Chantel knew to be a really expensive cashmere turtleneck sweater underneath an equally expensive Canada Goose coat. She wasn’t shy about looking him up and down as she assessed the risk. What if the male model was a decoy?

His neatly manicured eyebrows twisted down in confusion and she thought it was one of the cutest things she had ever seen. 

She rolled down the window with a nervous smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” 

She hated how breathy the words came out but he was truly stunning. 

Tall, fit, well-dressed. 

“Are you alright? It looks like you’re having some trouble.” 

A gentleman.

“What would make you think that?” Chantel spoke before she thought it through, but the stranger didn’t seem to take offense if the amused smirk on his face could be trusted. “I’m kidding. Yeah, no. I’m not alright. The car was making weird noises so I pulled over and now it won’t turn back on. I looked under the hood but I have no idea what’s wrong.”

He nodded attentively while she spoke, watching her lips with interest. She noticed him staring and licked them.

“I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be.” His bronze skin reddened with the admission and she wondered if he was blushing or if the cold was getting to him. “I don’t know anything about cars but I can give you a ride wherever you want.”

She’d like a ride alright. In his cushiony truck that may as well have been a royal carriage considering the circumstances. Or on his handsome bearded face that she couldn’t stop staring at. 

Chantel wondered if he could tell what she was thinking. 

Movement caught her eye and she noticed an identical black SUV pulling off the road to park behind the one Prince Charming departed from. Her hand squeezed around the taser instinctively. 

Was the sexy stranger bait to catch naive, unsuspecting girls? 

“...but I’m sure we’d both rather leave it to the professionals.” He gestured back towards the dark truck and paused, noticing they weren’t alone. Her breath caught in her chest when four bulking men slammed their doors shut and started walking in their direction.

“I apologize. That’s my security team. I left without telling them.” 

Hmm. A kindred spirit. 

Who was he to have a security team? Was he telling the truth? Or just stalling? 

She wanted to believe him. To trust that it was in human nature to help one another without some ulterior, sinister motive. 

Did she even have a choice? How long would she have to wait on the next passerby? There was no guarantee they would be any better than the (so far) kind stranger and his friends.

Chantel Williams was a lot of things, but she was not naïve. With surprising coordination, she swung the door open, knocking the man back several steps. Her boots crunched as she landed in the snow. 

“Back up or I’m going to tase you!” She warned, putting space between herself and the stranger while keeping an eye on the approaching men. 

The corners of his mouth turned up as he fought back a smile. 

Chantel scoffed. He wasn’t taking her seriously. 

“I’m not fucking around!” She insisted, charging up the small device. The buzz felt more powerful than she remembered. The man seemed to think so too, changing his approach. He spoke in a soft tone. “Can we slow down?” 

“Don’t patronize me. Just back up like I said. No, this way!” She ordered until he stood across from her with his back to his men. 

Behind him, they speed up their approach but they could only move so fast in the snow. Following her gaze, the strange man looked over his shoulder and gestured for the men to stall at the front of his truck several feet away. One of them shouted at her to put the taser away from his position. He sported two braids and a cut in his brow. Chantel shouted back at him to ‘shut the fuck up’

Mr. GQ gave another signal and like he was the conductor of an orchestra, all noise ceased. Well, all external noise at least. Chantel swore she could hear the sound of her heart ringing in her ears. 

“Hey!” He demanded her full attention. His hands were up in a defensive position. “What are you looking for here?” 

It was a great question but she had no answer for him.

Trouble maker. Fire starter. Full-time agitator.

Chantel was that way even as a child, responding to normal adolescent teasing with violence. Sharp bites in the classroom or royal rumble style fights on the playground were her specialty in grade school. She made anyone stupid enough to provoke her regret it whether big or small, male or female. That wasn’t to say she was organized or calculating in her plans. She acted and dealt with things as they came. 

She had no idea what the endgame was when she pulled the taser, but she had to stick with it. The crowd of onlookers made her feel more justified in her rash decision.

“I don’t think you really want to hurt me.”

“Now, what would make you think that?” Chantel asked incredulously. He didn’t know her from Eve. 

She was even more steadfast in pointing the taser in his direction but he didn’t seem phased.

“When you want to hurt somebody, you don’t wait around or warn them. You just do it.”

“Are you suggesting I should’ve tased you?”

He shrugged as if they were discussing the weather.

“That certainly would have been more effective.”

Was he serious?

“I mean I still can. If you keep talking I just might.”

He had the gall to laugh in her face. 

Hysterically. 

And it wasn’t fleeting or sarcastic. It was genuine laughter from deep down in his gut. She hated how beautiful he was, even in the middle of showing blatant disrespect for her ability to harm him. 

“Seriously?” She griped, fighting against the way her face muscles twitched. 

Giggle box.

When somebody at church mispronounced a word during the announcements or when her aunt murdered a hit song, she giggled uncontrollably. Papa chastised her for it, but it couldn’t be helped. When the urge struck and she got that itch in her throat, she had to laugh.

So naturally, like two birds of a maniac feather they shared a laugh in four (and counting) inches of snow.

***

GENERAL TAGLIST

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus

MIGUEL TAGLIST

@thesandbeneathmytoes @taylortheeshowpony

[bbrandy2002]

The Getaway

Part Two

A/N: This is obviously a continuation of a birthday fic I wrote for @ao719 that is now 2 weeks late 🙈 I was dealing with stuff, dont judge lol The writers block and doubts were for real yo! But thanks to my Tumblr bestie, who wouldnt let me quit, encouraged me, talked me through this thing and gave me ideas, it finally all came together.

Anitah, I apologize for being so late and the silliness of this fic and if it's terrible. I still hope you had a wonderful birthday and are blessed with so many more 💜

A/N/N: Thanks to @burnsoslow for beta reading and literally a thousand other things.

Warning: A lot of bad language, a miserable Drake Walker and violence involving tasers, fires, animals and car accidents ... No one dies people!

**Drake and Liam belong to Pixelberry, Nikolas belongs to me, the driver and mailroom guy belong to @burnsoslow​ and Liam's secretary belongs to @ao719​

Drake stepped out of the truck in a furor, cursing under his breath, to check on his damages. The front driver tire had fallen into a deep ditch, and it was evident by the thick mud it sunk into that it would be next to impossible to get unstuck without some assistance.

He shook his head, gritted his teeth, and the veins in his neck enlarged and throbbed. As he knelt down to assess the damages further, Nik hopped out of the truck and stood over Drake. With one glance, Nikolas clutched his belly and let out a loud continuous cackle that soon sent a storm of hot blood that seemed to collect in Drake's crimson-colored face.

And the laughter just got louder and louder.

And the laughter didn't stop.

In Drake's head, it sounded like a thousand Niks laughing simultaneously, each one with two horns, a pointy tail, and a pitchfork in hand. 

His anxiety took over.

He stood up, and in an attempt to let some of his anger out, he kicked the tire with an enraged shout that echoed beyond the heavily-forested valley and sent flocks of birds in a frenzy.

The tire's air must have been over-pressurized by the drop's force and popped as soon as Drake's foot made contact. He fell back onto his ass with a heavy thud causing Nikolas to screech out in more laughter. Drake sat up into time to see the front bumper and side panel fall to the ground.

"I think your truck is broken, Uncle Drake," the prince chortled.

Drake's head whipped around and glared at the boy. "No shit! What the fuck are you even doing here? You're supposed to be on a plane to Paris."

Nikolas shrugged. "This sounded more fun." 

"This isn't fun, you little asshole!" Drake jumped up and attempted to lunge at the boy, but slipped in the mud, caught his balance for a split second by grabbing onto a tree limb, then slipped again, before wiping out completely. "Son-of-a-monkey-fucker!"

Drake laid on his back, staring up at a large tree branch that hung overhead, praying to God the damn thing would just fall on him. 

Nikolas walked over to him and looked down on the face of fury. "Is it time for dinner yet? I'm staaaaaaaving!"

"Nikolas," Drake groaned then took a deep breath, his back mud-soaked and achy. "How? How in the hell did you pull this off?"

Nik plopped down on Drake's stomach, causing him to grunt loudly. "Easy. I told my dad you invited me, and he let me go. He was happy you wanted to spend time with me." The Prince smirked.

Drake gritted his teeth. "And he just believed you? Fucking Liam."

Nikolas shook his head. "No. I got Neal in the mailroom to pretend he was you on the phone."

Drake lifted his head and glared. "You mean that grease trap that lives in the ambulance down by the river?"

The young prince nodded. "Yeah. Except he doesn't live by the river anymore. He moved behind the elementary school .. said it had a better view."

There was dead silence for a moment as Drake grimaced at what he just heard before jerking his hips upward. "Get the fuck off me."

Nikolas stumbled to the ground with an uproarious laugh.

Drake reached into his front pocket and pulled out his cell as he rose to his feet. He was dead set on getting someone from the palace to retrieve this little menace to Drake Walker society before he found himself tied up to a cinder block at the bottom of Lake Boogaloo. The issue with his truck could wait.

Liam and Riley would already be on the plane with Bastien in tow, so calling them right now would be useless. He pressed the contact for the palace operator, hoping to be directed to the mailroom; if Neal was part of helping get Nik into this, his shady punk ass could come pick him up in the renovated ambulance that served as his home and part-time blood mobile. 

Pacing back and forth, Drake raised the phone to his ear, waiting impatiently for a ring. 

"Trish! Put me through to the mailroom." 

While he was distracted taking care of that, Nikolas was somewhat disappointed the trip was already over -- he had so many plans for his favorite uncle. With his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips, he leaned up against the truck in a huff. "This sucks!"

The sounds of leaves crunching and brush moving around nearby caught his attention. Nik's eyes widened in fear when the black furry coat of a creature with a white stripe down its middle could be seen scampering around searching for food. The boy gasped and pinched his nose as the animal's foul scent started to become thick in the air and made his eyes water. "Uncle Drake," he called out in a nasally voice, "there's a skunk."

With a scowl, Drake lowered the phone and scrunched up his own nose. He took one glance at the animal, who didn't appear to be a threat, then glanced back at the kid. "It's probably more scared of your evil ass than you are of it. Just keep your mouth shut and don't move." The call with Neal resumed.

"But, Drake ..." Nikolas whined, trying to plead for him to listen but could tell his uncle would have none of it.

Frantic to scare the smelly animal away, the young boy searched the ground for something to throw at it: a large stick, a rock, Drake's Air Bud soundtrack. Those things might scare the skunk off, but they posed a risk of it spraying before doing so. Memories of the smell of Madeleine's office when he had one shipped to her came flooding back. It took a month for the palace to lose that scent. The prank was hilarious until it affected his comfort.

 A devilish smirk took shape as an idea popped into his head. “I need my backpack.”

Nik grabbed the top of the truck bed and stepped up on the rear tire and swung one leg over, then the other. He found his backpack and quickly unzipped it, pulling out night-vision goggles and a rope, then placed them beside his feet. He proceeded to move aside a bottle of industrial-strength super glue and the glass jar holding his tarantula, Barf. Finally, at the bottom of the bag, was the taser he “borrowed” from Bastien’s desk, and he quickly took it out. Holding the electrical gun in front of his face and twisting it around menacingly, he said, “Okay, Mr. Skunk. Get ready for a shocking experience.”

“No!” Drake yelled into the phone at Neal, “You can’t borrow my binoculars. What the fuck are you gonna use those things for at a children’s museum anyway?”

“The … the …” the man scrambled for an answer, “those dinosaurs … yeah … the dinosaurs. They’re, like, really tall, ya know? I want to be able … to, uh … see their faces and stuff.”

“I call bullshit,” Drake bit back, “I won’t be an accomplice in your bone watching … dinosaur or small boy.” He resumed his pacing, wanting to get the conversation moving along. “Now listen, my sister and brother-in-law are in Texas, Lord Beaumont is on a book tour, and the guards are off duty until the royal family returns. You are going to come pick up this kid.”

“Oh! I would love to come pick him up. He’s under 10, correct?”

Drake could practically hear the creepy mirth oozing from the man's gruff voice and spat back, "I'll be with him the whole time, you oily ass, ambulance-driving …  è piccola cagna!"

"What does that mean?"

Drake knitted his brows; he didn't really know, just that Nikolas called him that from time to time, and the word just kind of stuck with him. "Just ... just get here now!"

"Okay, okay! I'm coming."

The call ended. "God, I hope he meant that literally, and I didn't just get that fucko off." He slipped the phone into his pocket and turned to Nik. "Alright, listen up, assh ..." Drake stopped dead in his tracks and stood, stunned, at the first glimpse of a taser-wielding Nikolas with the gun aimed almost directly at him, with a tiny finger wrapped around the trigger.

"Wwwhatcha got there, boy?" Drake's voice sounded calm and friendly. He even managed to fake a genuine-looking smile. Inside, however, he was close to shitting his pants.

Nikolas licked his lips and closed one eye to find the perfect aim. "I'm about to fry that skunk with extreme vengeance. One ..."

"Nikolas, no! Give me the taser." Drake cautiously approached him with his hand held out.

"Two," the small but menacing voice continued the count.

"Nik, don't do it! Give it to me now!"

"Three.”

"Noooo!"

The piercing sound of Drake's shout startled the skunk, and it scurried out from the thick brush.

Nik jumped up with the taser. "Hey! Get back here, asshole." He aimed at the fleeing creature and pressed the trigger.

___________

The instant Drake's mocha-colored eyes fluttered open, an acrid mixture of what smelled like ass, sweat, rotten eggs, and his mother's hairy feet had bubbled up inside his nostrils. The aroma was slightly overshadowed by the 1200-volt prongs that had pierced just below the protruding vein in his neck, causing him to seize up and then drop like a rag doll to the dirt, and muck that littered the ground.

Close by, he could make out the discernible sound of footsteps crunching through foliage and bark and sloshing over wet earth.

Drake's cheek rested against the cold, soggy ground, even as the silhouette of the young prince crouched next to him with his little head tilted sideways and blinking owlishly. He saw the child's lips moving but blocked out the little shit until the feeling of electrocution and muscle spasms had waned.

Drake looked at the small face next to him that resembled his best friend at that age. Liam is a good man, Drake thought; he was a considerate child, too. We had fun together. We always had each other's backs and would do anything to protect the other, no matter the consequences.  Liam wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s just the best all around.  So …  how in the actual ass fuck did he produce the spawn of Satan? 

Is there any chance he’s ... Neal’s kid? 

Maybe Riley ... No, fuck, no. She wouldn’t.

The sky transformed from a brilliant blue to one streaked with gold and orange hues before Drake shook himself of the aftershocks that sparked through his body. 

The metal prongs left behind two bright red spots, resembling a large spider bite and stinging like hell when he pulled them out.  A thick layer of mud had dried and clung to his back, while a fresh layer adhered to his front. The numbness in his limbs had dissipated somewhat, but the pins-and-needles feeling remained. He was grateful the back spray from the skunk missed him, but the remnants it left on the nearby trees were stifling.

At this point, the only thing Drake wanted was a hot shower, a clean change of clothes, and to get stupidly drunk to the point he would pass out in bed and sleep for days. He scanned the perimeter and could make out the crystal-blue lake through a small clearing in the trees about 100 yards away.

Removing his filthy shirt and tossing it in the back of the truck, he eyed Nikolas, who was surprisingly quiet and subdued. The child was sitting on the lowered tailgate, swinging his legs, and trying to force his tarantula to eat a dead cricket. Drake rolled his eyes but was relieved the kid was staying out of his hair for now. He just needed to take a quick dip in the water, change his clothes, and hurry back in time for their ride home. Nik would be fine by himself for 10 minutes.

Drake let out a sharp tongue whistle that caught Nikolas' attention. "Listen up, kid. I'm going down to the lake real quick to clean up and change into some clean clothes." He opened the driver's side door and reached across the seat to toss his cell phone and wallet in the glove box while he continued, "You and your spider get in here and lock the door until I come back."

Nik dropped Barf in the jar and slapped the holed lid on it. "It's not a spider, Drake. It's a tarantula. A tarantula," he corrected with emphasis as he slid down from the tailgate.

"I don't care if it's your grandma's bladder control protection, get your ass in the truck, and don't move until I get back."

Stepping up in front of Drake, Nikolas sneered at an annoyed Drake towering above him. "I'm telling her you said that. And why can't I go with you? I wanna go to the lake, too," he whined.

Drake nearly doubled over in fake laughter. "There ain't no damn way I'm taking you. For one, you've ruined my entire trip. The one good thing I had in my life to look forward to, and you ruined it! And two, I don't know what the rules are about grownups, and nakedness, and with kids around, and all that shit. So the answer is no." 

Drake could tell by the beady little eyes glaring back at him that Nikolas would not give up on this. He let out a heavy sigh. "Look. Do what I tell you right now, and when I come back, I'll build a campfire, and we can make up some s’mores. How's that sound?"

“Okay.”

“Really?” Drake shook his head in astonishment that he actually won that argument. Without another word, he watched as His Royal Highness happily climbed into the cab of the truck and gave a thumbs up.

Did that taser kill me? I’m dead, right? He did it. Do you smell that, Cordonia? No, not that fucking rank ass skunk. It’s the smell of victory! Drake Walker is a god! I have the power back.

Grabbing his duffle bag from the back, Drake hurriedly made his way toward the lake. He felt a little on edge, leaving Nik by himself for even just ten minutes, maybe even somewhat guilty. But he was caked in mud from head to toe, and the grime was starting to seep and burrow around certain parts of his anatomy. Nothing was worse than having monkey ass.

Within minutes, Nikolas sat on his haunches and looked out the back glass. He hadn’t wanted to show it, but he did feel a little bad for shooting Drake to the point it drew blood. Also for causing him to crash his truck. And even though it was funny as hell to watch, the second slip in the mud was kind of brutal. Perhaps a little remorse was starting to set in as the words of his Uncle Drake telling him that he ruined the one thing he was looking forward to repeated in his head. Tomorrow he would return to normal, but Nik was determined to do something nice for a change for the rest of the evening.

With the quick snap of his little fingers, an idea formed, and it would be the perfect thing to make Drake feel better. Nik unlocked the door, grabbed his spider, and jumped out of the truck. He headed to the back and rummaged through the bags of camping items laid in piles until he found what he was looking for: a lighter and lighter fluid.

“I’ll make the bestest s'mores ever for Uncle Drake. That’ll make him happy.”

Nikolas had never built a campfire before, but he’d seen it done in a movie once, and that was good enough in his mind to practically make him an expert.

Feeling clean and refreshed, Drake dried off from his dip in the lake and put fresh clothes on. Making his way back to the site, he caught a glimpse of thick, black smoke protruding above the trees and the smell of burning rubber that traveled with the approaching evening breeze.

“Nikolas,” he muttered as his heart crashed into his stomach. He raced back as fast as he could, fearing the absolute worst thing had happened to the Prince of Cordonia. “I knew I shouldn’t have left him alone. Liam and Riley are going to kill me, and I would deserve it. I just hope he’s not …” he trailed off when the site came into full view. It was worse than he imagined.

His eyes searched frantically until relief washed over him when he caught his first glimpse of Nikolas sitting under a tree, eating, and seemingly unconcerned by the inferno that had lit up the dusky sky.

Drake rushed over to him and lifted him into his arms and held onto him tightly.  “Are you okay, buddy?”  

Nikolas chuckled, “I’m fine, Uncle Drake.”

He lowered him back on the ground and started patting him down, looking for burns or injuries. 

Drake let out a sigh of relief. “How? How did this …” he turned to look at the fire, then raised his voice. “Wait! You caught my goddamn truck on fire?”

Nik followed his uncle's gaped-mouth stare to the truck engulfed in flames, then screwed up his face. "Yeah ... about that. I think I used too much of that lighter fluid stuff building a campfire. But I made you something." He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a s'more, licked the melted chocolate off the side, then proudly held it up to Drake. "The marshmallow is exactly the way you like it, too: completely charred."

Drake dropped his head into his palms and repeated a slew of curse words and sounds that were not even human. As badly as he wanted to destroy everything around him at that moment, to release a fit of anger the likes of which no one had ever seen in him before, it appeared Nikolas had beat him to it: There was nothing left around there to destroy. 

He dropped his arms to his sides in defeat and looked to the heavens before surmising, “This is my punishment, isn’t it? I stole that taser from the guard as a kid and let Liam take the blame for it. I insisted Liam come with me in that boat during a storm, and he nearly drowned when it overturned. He got lost in the woods on my time. I pushed him too hard once during maze tag. I got stuck in that laundry chute all night, and Constantine took hide-and-seek away from him. This …” he motioned to Nikolas, who was smiling back at him with a big cheesy grin, “this is how he got me back for all of it. Well, you win, Liam! You win!  I hope you are having one hell of a time in Paris, schmoozing and laughing your ass off, because I have nothing left in this world but this …  hairy, lint-filled s’more with your son’s saliva all over it …  and it’s not even toasted right!”

“I didn’t make it right?” Nikolas asked thoughtfully. “Hang on. I can make you another one.” He bent down, pulled out a marshmallow from the bag and rammed a mud-covered stick entirely through its center. Drake watched as Nik skipped over and held it next to the flames shooting out the window of his truck.

For several seconds, Drake contemplated whether he should just leave the child there and let nature take its course. Glaring back to the star-filled sky, he groaned, “You owe me big for this.”

Tugging Nik by his jacket hood to pull him away from the hot blaze, he startled the boy who then whipped around with the burning marshmallow and accidentally got it stuck to Drake’s shirt. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

Ten minutes passed, and the two were on the dirt road heading back to the highway’s main stretch. After patting out the fire on his shirt, Drake planned to call the fire department to report the inferno taking place in the woods. He laughed wryly when he realized the phone was still in the glove box of his burning vehicle. And it appeared Neal’s skank ass wasn’t coming after all, so the pair would have to flag down someone and hope they actually stopped. Thankfully, Nikolas had his backpack on, and Drake used the night vision goggles to direct his way along the darkened path.

Hand in hand and approaching the main thoroughfare, Nik’s legs were starting to tire, and his droopy eyes looked up. “Uncle Drake, will you carry me?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeeease,” Nikolas begged in a high-pitched squeal that grated Drake’s teeth.

Drake stopped with a huff and crouched down. “Get the fuck on my back,” he commanded, “you’ve burned and shot the front part of me, so your ass is gonna have to hold onto the back. And I swear to God, Nik, if you so much as drool on me, you can sleep in the woods with the wolves and bears and poodles. Understood?”

With a tired nod, Nik wrapped his little arms around Drake’s neck and held on. As they proceeded ahead, the prince asked, “Would you tell me a bedtime story?”

Drake grunted, “You wanna bedtime story? I’ll tell you a bedtime story. It’s an ol’ Bianca Walker original that she used to tell me every night called ‘Go the fuck to sleep!’ The end.”

Nikolas sleepily chuckled. “I already have that book, Uncle Drake. My dad’s secretary, Charlotte, gave it to me and told me to put it in my room. She said if my mom or dad found it, just to tell them you gave it to me.”

“Of course she did,” Drake scoffed, thinking about the other person who found pure delight in annoying him.

Through the night-vision goggles, the headlights of a random car could be seen driving by, and Drake let out a relieved breath, knowing they were so close.

The night couldn’t end that easily, though. A sudden sense of unease enveloped Drake, telling him that everything was not as it seemed. His steps quickened, and his heart pounded away in his chest.

Feeling like he was being followed, he turned on his heels, then widened his eyes. 

A large brown bear let out a roar that echoed past them.

Drake shrugged his shoulders and muttered, “Yep. That’s about right.”

The survival training he’d learned from his Campers Anonymous group about bear encounters kicked in, and he completely stilled his body. That was until he heard, “BEEEEAAAR!” screamed over his shoulder and felt Nik’s body drop to the ground.

“Don’t move, Nikolas,” Drake ordered through a whisper.

It was too late; he was gone and headed toward the road.

Drake whirled around to see the bear on its hind legs, drumming its chest and licking its lips. “Shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Wait for me, Nik!” He took off running.

--------- 

Alyssa was headed back to Cordonia earlier in the night than she expected. With her hands firmly gripped on the steering wheel, she complained to her friend through the car's Bluetooth, “The guy showed up one hour late to our meeting spot, then drove through a McDonalds, asked if I wanted anything, proceeded to park behind a church and tell me he has condoms before the cops picked him up on a warrant! Worst. Date. Ever.”

Driving around a bend in the road, Alyssa slammed on the brakes when her headlights reflected off a small child darting into the road. As her tires screeched, she let out a deafening scream when a man came out of nowhere, followed immediately by a bear. The frantic man shoved the kid out of the way.

Though  the brake pedal was pressed to the floor, the car collided with Drake, and his body flew onto the hood before falling feebly to the road.

The bear sniffed at Drake and batted him around a couple of times before taking off into the woods.

When Alyssa was sure it was safe to do so, she and a crying Nik both crouched around a moaning Drake.

_________

The following morning, Drake's eyes fluttered open. His vision was a little fuzzy, but he could make out a doctor hovering over him and a worried Liam standing with Nikolas at the foot of his bed. He tried to speak, wanting to know what happened, but was unable to open his mouth.

"Don't try to speak, Mr. Walker. Your jaw was wired shut to protect the small fracture you suffered from the car accident. You also broke both legs and sprained your neck. You have a long recovery ahead of you, but shouldn't need to spend any more time in the hospital. You’re a very lucky man. Now if you’ll excuse me, I will get the discharge papers and check to see if the ambulance transporting you to the palace has arrived. His Majesty has offered to allow you to recover in his home." 

Drake took one look at a gleeful, bouncing Nikolas and shook his head as best as he could with a neck brace on and emphatically mumbled his indiscernible objections.

Liam chuckled, "Quit being so modest, Drake. I assure you it’s no trouble at all. Besides, it's the least I could do after you saved my son's life. And Nik here even offered to let you stay in his room to keep you company."

Nik nodded with a grin. “Yep. For the next eight to 12 weeks, it's just me and my Uncle Drake hanging out all day and night.”

Drake tried to escape from his bed but couldn’t move without use of his legs.

Liam walked around to the side of the bed and put his hand on Drake’s shoulder. “Look at you trying to protest. You never were one to accept charity. I told you, I’m more than happy to help. You deserve this and more.”

A knock at the door diverted their attention and a head popped in. “I’m here to transport Mr. Walker back to the palace, Your Majesty.”

“Perfect! And on such short notice too. So glad my secretary could arrange this ride,” Liam exclaimed. He glanced down at his injured friend in the bed and smiled. “You ready to go home, my friend?”

No! No! That’s fucking, Neal. He doesn’t even have a real ambulance. I’m not going. Somebody, anybody, heeeelp!

[honeycashmere]

Pretty

Inspired by: Pretty by The Weeknd also the Partition music video by Beyonce. 

Warning: NASTY. PURE SMUT. A lot of cursing. Squirting. A little more on the rough side.

Note: YES, YOU WANTED A NEW SANDCASTLE CHAPTER, it’s coming. I wanted to drop another chapter but I needed to slide back into that and wanted to practice a little because I’m busy and I missed writing smut. SO HERE YOU GO. This is for all the freaks ;) Sorry for any errors, I’m rusty. This is posted on AO3 and my tumblr. As someone with a “too much gene” is this too much?

It has been weeks since you’ve last seen Chris. Normally you thrive in long distance relationships. You loved having your own space and thought it was romantic to surprise each other often. It kept the relationship fresh despite being together for five years. Both you and Chris worked in industries the required the both of you to travel for work and be apart sometimes. Despite living together and making time to spend together. Sometimes Chris would be gone for months and after a month or so he’d fly you out to visit. Even though you both tried to make the relationship work and it did. You both couldn’t get passed one thing.

Sex.

When Chris and you would live together, sex everyday was a given. Unless someone was truly exhausted or wanted to take a couple days break. Both of your sex drives soared in each other’s presence and even with the freaky FaceTimes and texts… those couldn’t replace the real thing. You missed that frequency, you lusted over the idea of your bodies colliding again. You wanted to feel his hand run through your hair and grip it. You wanted to feel the pressure of your back against the wall or your face pushed up against the mirror. Or the feeling of your bare skin grazing the carpet or him ever so lightly gripping your neck. You were daydreaming about being reunited with Chris again. You’d send him little naughty texts messages here and there. You knew exactly what you were doing, you wanted to get him all rattle up so that way he’d pounce on and oh how you missed that too. You wanted to put on a show for him. There were plenty of times, one of you came home from a trip and rushed into the bedroom. You wanted to play with him a little more. So you sent careful instructions for him.

Pull into the driveway, keep the car headlights on. I’ll let Dodger out to greet you, cause he misses you like crazy but when you’re done, get back into the car and wait.

These instructions puzzled him. You loved to put on a show and give him a little surprise when he’d come back from a trip. The hours leading up to Chris’s arrival you did your hair, planned a truly devious outfit. A jaw dropping savage x fenty lingerie set, faux fur jacket and easy to slip off heals that killed your feet. You only wore them for small amounts of time, for an event, a picture, and even a wedding which was a mistake by the way. You imagined how you’d look with the headlights beaming on your marvelous attire. Your phone went off, you wondered if Chris had any questions or thoughts about your instructions as they were a little too vague.

As long as you know that when I land you’re mine.

Whenever Chris came home from a trip, he’d be exhausted but that never stopped him from letting his hands roam over your body. You shook your head trying to stop yourself from daydreaming again. It was time, you can hear the car pull into the drive way and you felt yourself flush in excitement. First you let Dodger greet Chris, he was incredibly excited to see him after a while but you had taken him for a hike earlier that day and hoped he’d be tired right after an exciting hello. You whistled for Dodger to come back inside and threw a dog bone into the living room which he raced after. When you looked in the drive way, the headlights shined brightly on to the house and you watched Chris get back into the car, giving it a couple seconds before you came out. You walked slowly trying not to trip in the on the pavement, standing at a distance in front of the beaming lights. You could barely make out Chris’s face. You smile his way as you slowly unbuttoned your faux fur coat, letting one side slowly slip down your arm doing your best pose for him. You give him quick twirl and a flirty grin. Chris doesn’t waste his time, he shuts off the car and struts out of it, fixated on your body. He takes a deep breath and grins. “Is this for me?”

You bite your bottom lip and nod. “You look so pretty baby.” He reaches out to you, pulling you from behind your neck into a deep kiss. When he pulls away his eyes run up and down your body and you leaned in to say, “Wouldn’t I look so pretty with your cock in my mouth?”

A deep growl emerges from within in him. He scoops you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, nibbling on his ear and kissing his neck. He pushes past doors and swiftly down the hallway to the master bedroom. He tosses you on to the bed recklessly. “Come here,” he said with his hand motioning his fingers towards him. You crawled to him, kicking your shoes on to the floor. You knew what to do, you rubbed his hard cock through his jeans as they were a barrier blocking it from springing loose. He groans from your touch, you start to undo his belt and undo his jeans, barely pulling them down when his cock sprung loose inches away from your face, dripping with pre-cum. God, you needed him.

You look up at Chris eagerly, giving his tip a little peck before licking it, giving it a taste. Swirling your tongue around the head you could see Chris’s body tense up, he runs his hand down the back of your head. You move towards the base letting your tongue and open lips wet his cock before taking him in. He takes a deep breath guiding your head. You slowly let his cock travel down your throat before slowly letting him out. You use both go your hands to message his cock up and down as you sucked on his head. You can hear Chris breathing loudly above you. Trying his best not to cum in your mouth. You pick up the pace knowing that it’ll frustrate him a little. His hand on your head grips your hair and slowly pulls you off of him. “Tsk, tsk. You knew what you were doing,” he says with a grin shaking his head, he reaches down your ass and spanks you not once but twice. You moaned as it stung and he pushed you down on the bed, climbing over you. He grips your chin as he kisses you, letting his tongue message yours before moving to your neck. His hand furiously messaging one breast to the other and the other hand unlatched the expensive lace bra you were wearing. His lips move from tit to the other sucking and playing with them as you sort of pushed him on his shoulders to move lower. “Impatient huh?”

“Tell me how many times have you played with yourself since our last face time?” He was referring to a week ago when you two FaceTimed and you both made a pack after to not orgasm till you saw each other. “…None,” you say feeling defeated. You wanted his tongue down there so bad already. “Are you lying?” He asks seriously, slowly moving down your body, he widen your thighs, slowly kissing from your knee inward. “No,” You shoot him a pleading look and he recognized your desperation. Chris wanted to play tonight, he loved watching you beg, scream, plead and cry while having full control over you. He loved when you were a fucking mess and he fantasized about having this moment with you after spending weeks apart. “How badly do you want me to eat this pretty pussy?”

Your mouth dropped, “Chris!” you whined like a spoiled brat. You wanted him so badly, his mouth, his cock, his hands but he was moving a slow as a snail. He chuckled at torturing you a little. “Don’t worry baby, I’m going to give you what you need.”

He pushed the fabric of your panties away from your lips, taking a moment to admire his ability to make you wet. You were glistening, dripping nectar and you watched him anticipating your needs being met. “Fuck you look so good baby,” he says in a half groan before diving in. He licks your clit before giving it a suck and you squeeze your eyes tight finally feeling some pleasure. He rested his fingers on your slit, gathering some wetness before stroking your clit in small circles. You bit your bottom lip trying to suppress your moans. He gathered more of your juices between his fingers before pushing them into you. Your eyes open quickly glancing downwards to him as you sat up on your elbows. You watched as he flicked your clit with his tongue over and over again while he finger fucked you. His eyes would close sometimes, enjoying the sounds of your quick breaths and moans and then dart to your face to watch you. Your hand finds its way to his hair, giving it a little grip as you began bucking forward a little. Ready to cum any moment now. It only drives him to give you what you want. He works harder to make you cum, using his arm to keep you steady on the bed. “Oh my god,’ when you cum, the one standing elbow gives out, your hands reach for the duvet under you, gripping them as you become a crying mess of screams and curses. A panting hot mess, you close your eyes in bliss as you could hear Chris get up and the wrestling of his remaining clothes. He stands right by your head and couldn’t help but want his cock in your mouth. You got up like an eager slut. Wrapping your hand around his cock, playing with his head in your mouth. His eyes close as he sighs before bending down to caress your ass and slap it, “Baby turn around.”

You smile to yourself, bending over in your favorite position, laying with the side of your head on the mattress, flashing a smile up at your man. He bends over, giving your pussy a look again as he pulled your panties down and off of you. He groans at the thought of just fucking you, he takes his cock in his hand coating it with your juices as he traced the tip up and down your folds before pushing the head in. Your mouth falls open with a quiet moan. Chris watched you, he loved watching what he could do to you. “You miss me baby?”

“You miss me fucking you?” He slams his hips forward, pushing his full length inside of you with ease since you were practically dripping wet. He starts to thrust in out of your pussy, grabbing a hold of both your hips to keep him study as he pushed into your body. You grip the sheets as you whimpered at his ball slapping fast pace. “Yes, fuck me!”

A animalistic growl slips from his lips as he reached down to the back of your head pushing it into the mattress, his left leg arched up, planting his foot onto the bed frame trying to hit your pussy harder from a different angle. You felt like blacking out, you were a whimpering wreck, you could feel your pussy overflow. “Oh god, you’re fucking squeezing my cock.” Chris pulls you up by your neck, holding you in place as his other hand found your clit, he began rubbing frantically, your hand holds on to the wrist holding your neck and your other hand on his other wrist. Your head falls back on his shoulder, he’s fucking you mercifully. “You’re gonna make me fucking wet the bed.”

You could feel yourself combust. You came around him, your pussy pulsing, trying to push him out but he held on tight and slowly began fucking you through it. You feel your thighs become wet, the duvet underneath you become wet from you and the front of Chris’s thighs soaked with your juices. “You’re such a dirty little slut.” He pulls out of you, flipping you over, practically pulling you towards the corner at the end of the bed to get away from your mess. He leans down to kiss your lips, you wrap your legs around his waist as he inserts himself into you again, his energy was relentless, he thrusted in and out of you at the perfect pace. His hands wander up to your breast, massaging them. You knew he was close. “You gonna take my cum?” You don’t respond distracted by cock sliding in and out of you violently. After hearing no response he leans down gripping your neck, fucking you harder, forcing you to respond. “Yes fuck!” He becomes sloppy trying to fulfill his needs it almost drowns out your screaming. Chris throws his head back, coating your walls with his cum, pumping until he was empty, resting inside you. When he pulls out of you, you see his cock coated in your nectar and his cum. It turned you on even after fucking. “Fuck baby,’ Chris chuckled watching your drip. “You trying to kill me with that outfit? We better get cleaned up.”

You smirk to yourself. “I don’t think I can move.” Chris’s smile widens and he picks you up off the bed, giving your ass as another slap before carrying you into the bathroom. “Hmm, funny, even after my flight and that, I don’t think I’m that tired.” Your mind wanders as you start the shower, it’s going to be a long night.

[hollyxqx]

PLAYING WITH FIRE  //  YOONGI  //  05

↪PARING: Min Yoongi x Reader ↪ GENRE: angst » smut » idol!au » enemies to lovers ↪ SUMMARY: Yoongi hates you. Or at least he thinks he does. (AKA the one where you work for BigHit and Yoongi is bad at feelings). ↪ WORD COUNT: 6k ↪ WARNINGS: heavy angst | sex | secret relationships | jealousy | mild possessive behaviour a/n: don’t hate me too much for this chapter lol i promise its for a reason.

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX

Yoongi could barely control the toothy grin that spread across his face as you practically skipped down the hallway, hand firmly encasing his. It was 1am, the perfect time for a secret rendezvous with someone he wasn't supposed to be with. Talk about taking control of the situation and being smart. People say it all the time but he literally couldn't help himself when it came to you.

Where you were taking him he wasn't aware; Yoongi was happy to be led as long as it was with you. You urged him on further with an encouraging smile thrown over your shoulder. He couldn't control how his heart skipped a beat.

"We can't go in here!" He hissed when he realised what you were up to.

"Be quiet." You reprimanded, holding a finger to his lips for a moment before you pushed open a fire escape door. He was almost certain this was at the very best was frowned upon and at worst - illegal. Left and right he looked up and down the deserted corridor double and triple checking that you were absolutely alone. The coast was clear.

Disobeying every instinct inside that was screaming this is not a good idea he followed you through the open door into the cool air of the concrete stairwell. You kept your grip on his hand tight as you dragged him up the flight of stairs.

"Where are you taking me?" He questioned aloud.

"Almost there." You ignored the question, panting a little from the exertion of this many steps. "It's worth it, I promise."

To his absolute horror you pushed open a door marked 'rooftop: do not enter' as if it was nothing. A thousand terrible images flashed through his mind of him getting caught doing something so wild and then being kicked out of BangTan and having his home country hate him. You could sense his reluctance.

"Yoongi, it's fine, I promise. The night manager of the hotel is a friend of mine. We're not going to get in trouble." You assured. He shot you a confused look.

"Wha - ? How do you know the manager?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Friend of my dad's. I lived in LA during the summer when I was younger you know."

He didn't actually know that. You hadn't really disclosed much about your life before moving to Korea to him and he hadn't asked, hesitant to pry too much assuming you'd tell him if you wanted him to have that information. "Oh." He muttered dumbly.

Now that you were outside the chill air of the summer night felt refreshing and he inhaled deeply, taking it in along with the view of the city below. He looked up at the sky, disappointed that the LA pollution hid the stars in the sky. Turning back to you, Yoongi watched as you wedged the metal door open with a wooden doorstop so it didn't close behind you both.

"The view is great huh?" You asked as you strode over to him.

He looked at you. "It is." He swallowed thickly.

You gently nudged him over to the furthermost concrete edge of the building. He wrapped an arm around your side and  held you tightly against him. "Do you see that tower over there?" You pointed somewhere to the left and he squinted, nodding when he saw what you were talking about. "That's where my father used to live. When my parents divorced that's where I would stay when I came to visit."

"How old were you when they separated?" He asked quietly, a gentle hand stroking your side comfortingly.

"Eleven." You hummed softly. "It was a lot, going back and forth between here and Britain alone but I'm thankful for it now. It made me brave enough to go to new places. Hence Korea."

"I had no idea." He felt a little foolish for not asking more about you sooner. It always seemed as if there never was enough time when you were together, every moment was stolen. He was thankful for the opportunity to learn now however. "I just assumed you were brave. Or stupid. One of the two." He teased, squeezing your hip affectionately.

You rolled your eyes, swatting him on the chest playfully. "There's a fine line between courage and stupidity but I'm going to assume there's a compliment in there somewhere."

Unable to stop himself he placed a tender kiss against your brow, feeling closer to you emotionally in that moment than ever before. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch. "We're leaving tomorrow." He said quietly, wrapping his other arm around your waist. "This will be the last time we're in each other's company for a long time."

"Yeah." You sighed sadly. "We're both at that point in our lives where our career's are taking off and taking up all of time."

"Timing has never been a strength of mine." He quipped. "When I moved to Seoul I promised myself I would work as hard as possible, with zero distractions. Then I met you."

"Kiss me, Yoongi." You pleaded faintly. He was planning on doing that anyway. Dipping his head he slowly leaned forward, eyes flickering from your mouth to your lips and back again. His lips pressed to yours delicately, carefully, ever so slightly sucking your bottom lip as he pulled away. If this was going to the last time he did not want to rush.

This was a moment he wanted to remember.

"Thank you for bringing me here and sharing more of yourself with me." He murmured against your lips. "I like getting to see more of you."

The way you blushed didn't go amiss and it only made him kiss you harder this time around. Fingertip under your chin he tilted your head upwards for him so you were at the perfect angle, allowing him to gently slip his tongue into your mouth. You rotated in his arms so you were chest to chest and pressed yourself against him.

When you eventually broke apart, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed your foreheads together, smiling like love drunk fools at each other. "You are the best kisser." You giggled.

"I think you bring it out in me." He grinned.

You stood normally again and hugged him, burying your face in his neck. He held you close, just savouring the moment, enjoying having you in his arms. Minutes passed and he felt like he could stay like this for hours. "Yoongi?" You asked, voice muffled by his skin.

The tone of your voice had changed suddenly and it made him nervous. "Yeah?" His throat felt dry.

"What happens now?"

The million dollar question, the one he often asked himself in the quiet hours of the morning unable to sleep and unable to stop his overthinking brain spiral with the 'what ifs'. Truthfully, he didn't know. The only thing that seemed to work for your relationship was taking every moment as it comes. No expectations; no disappointment.

"I don't know." He answered honestly.

"We've been so lucky this far. If people find out - "

" - I know."

It goes without saying. Everyone has seen the articles and the vitriol that spreads like wildfire whenever an idol is caught being anything less than perfect. A relationship is certainly out of the question. A relationship with a staff member, absolutely never.

"I don't want to say this." You began. His stomach dropped and all he wanted to do was kiss you into silence so he didn't have to hear the words that were about to follow that ominous sentence. Everything was perfect right now and he didn't want it to be ruined. It had been a long, arduous road to this point.

"Your career is important to me." You continued. "Just because I don't work for you anymore doesn't mean I don't care. I do. Tremendously. That's why I want to see you do well, well all of the boys obviously. Which is why," You lifted your head to look him in the eye. "I don't think we should continue whatever...this is."

He'd be lying to himself if he hadn't expected this at some point, considering everything had felt like some sort of dream so far. He swallowed thickly, trying not to show you how your words had made him almost feel winded. "If that's what you want."

"No!" You protested, shaking your head frantically. "You misunderstand. I don't want that. Not even a part of me wants that. There is so much going on for both of us and we're young enough that we can be a little selfish and focus on work for a bit. Unfortunately we're in an industry where we can't exactly be open about being together. And we're both so busy is it really fair?"

He sighed.

"I think I get it." He said eventually. "It just fucking sucks. I wish I could date you. Y'know, properly. It's funny, when I was a kid I was so shy I never would have spoken to a girl like you." He laughed at himself. "I'd probably be too nervous to date you if you hadn't started working with us and I'd gotten to know you."

"You? Shy?" You scoffed. " No way. I've seen you onstage don't forget. That is not a shy boy, that's a god damn sexy man."

"It's true!" He contested, wide eyed. "I never wanted to perform. I just wanted to make music."

"Yeah? I didn't know that." You smiled fondly. "Where would our first date be do you think?"

"We've already had it." He smirked, thinking back to the concert you went to together and how he'd spent most of the night watching your reactions.

"Please - that doesn't count. I'm talking about the hypothetical world where I meet shy Yoongi."

He laughed a little. "For our first official date I'd take you for dinner somewhere nice," He hummed pausing in thought. "Then maybe a walk along the beach afterwards. I think something out of the city would suit us."

"You're so cute." You kissed his nose. "I agree, away from the city is better."

"Then, I'd want to kiss you at the end of the date. But I'd probably bottle it at the last second and do something awkward instead."

The two of you shared a genuine laugh. "I would have liked to meet him."

"You'll have to settle for me, sorry."

"He's okay I guess." You smiled, kissing him again. "Nice Yoongi."

"So after tonight we're definitely not doing this again?" He asked to confirm. It felt terrible even saying the words aloud.

"It's for the best. Not forever, just...until we're settled. Then we can do it properly right? No sneaking around?"

His stomach lurched but he nodded anyway. That sounded a lot like forever to him. It wasn't fair, he wanted this to run it's course naturally and once again, being an idol was interfering with his life. As thankful as he was for his career, sometimes he yearned for a little normality.

***

Yoongi's not entirely sure how it happened but it doesn't take long for him to be pushing you roughly up against the concrete wall of the stairwell, sliding his hands up and underneath your shirt. It wasn't his intention but he couldn't help himself. If this was the last time he was going to make it count. You had tried to leave but he'd pulled you back to him, desperate to have you once more.

"Not here," You told him breathlessly. He grunted in agreement but didn't stop, shoving a muscled thigh between your legs to give you something to grind on and guided your hips for you. He just wanted to hear you moan for him and you did. "Seriously, not here. Let's go to my room."

It's easy to slip back to your hotel room unnoticed given the lateness of the hour. He's careful to keep his hands off of you until you're safely behind a locked door.

He laid you down on the bed and hovered over you. The bruise he'd sucked into your skin the day before had darkened over night. As he kissed it he smirked. He was going to leave more tonight wherever he could, purple marks that said I was here, here and here. Maybe you'd remember for a while that you were his at one point, in some way shape or form.

"You're going to think about the way I fuck you tonight for months." He smirked into you skin with a smile and he meant it. You groaned out loud at his words, clutching desperately at him. "I promise." He assured, nipping at your ear.

"I do that anyway." You breathed a laugh as he kneeled on his haunches to have better access to rid you of your skin tight jeans. "The amount of times I've touched myself thinking of you..."

Yoongi froze. He peered up at you through the dark hair that hung in his eyes. "Tell me more." He urged. "What do you think about?" Your jeans were gone and your panties soon followed. He slowly ran his hands up the inside of your thighs before spreading them open for him. "Better yet, show me."

He guided your hand between your legs, encouraging you to masturbate for him. The way you shyly bit your lip as if you were nervous made him weak. His thumbs rubbed circles on your inner thighs as he watched your fingers move intently. "Tell me what you think about." He repeated. He wanted to hear it so badly.

"Mostly I," You took a shaky breath, thighs flexing slightly underneath his palms. "I think about you eating me out. A lot."

"Yeah?" He laid down on his stomach and licked a stripe up your cunt next to your working fingers. "I love eating you out." You stopped for a moment but he placed his hand on yours, telling you to keep going so he could watch how wet you were getting for him.

He rested his head on your thigh, gently sucking a bruise on the tender flesh, making you moan out loud. He kissed the forming bruise a few times after he was satisfied, throwing a smirk your way when you realised what he had done.

"Remember the first time we fucked? On the bus?" Yoongi nodded. "I think about that a lot too."

"Why?"

"Because you're so much dirtier than I thought you were." You both laughed a little. "I love it when you fuck me open with your fingers, feels so good. Honestly I just love it when you just hold me down and fuck me, Yoongi."

He tried to hold in the groan that was bubbling in the back of his throat. Right now he had the patience of a saint, because that's all he wanted to do too. He rid himself of his clothing and hovered over you slowly stroked his aching cock as he watched you, desperate for even a little bit of relief.

"Yoongi I want you." You moaned, back arching off the mattress so much so that your breasts pressed against his chest. "Please."

He wanted you too but was only delaying himself so this moment in time could be frozen a little longer. As soon the sex was over, everything was over.

Lacing his hands through each of yours he pressed them down on the bed next to your head as he pushed his stiff length inside of you. It was so warm and tight and wonderful he stilled completely as soon as he was sheathed, just to commit this moment to memory.

He attached his lips to your neck to distract him from the overwhelming sensation that was already beginning to build. "You're so fucking pretty, baby." He mumbled into your skin. He could smell you; your perfume, your natural body scent and he wanted to drown in it, commit it to memory forever. "I'm lucky I ever got to have you like this."

His hips moved of their own accord, thrusting into you. You keened and moaned, squeezing his hands at the sensation. He always loved how responsive you were to his touch. "It feels amazing. So good Yoongi. You're so perfect."

There was too much he wanted to say. He was afraid of spilling every wonderful thing he'd ever thought about you in that moment. This was an ending. A goodbye of sorts. He couldn't. So he focused all his energy into making you feel as good as possible and not on the things he wanted to say.

He touched your clit with his thumb, just how he knew you liked, feeling you tighten around him. There was a sense of pride every time he made you cum, getting to see you at your peak, just for him. He doubted you were had been like this with other partners before.

"Let me see you cum," He husked, gazing down at you. "Just one more time. Cum for me pretty girl."

You responded to his encouragement by whining his name as you clamped around him. He kept going, stimulating you into over sensitivity and only stopping when you clutched at his wrist, signalling you'd had enough.

Yoongi hoisted you up so you were pressed chest to chest, resting back on his haunches. Desperately he kissed you, tasting some of the sweat that had formed on your upper lip. His hands slid down your body, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. He almost felt as if he couldn't get close enough to you.

"You think you can go again?" He breathed against your lips.

"I don't know but I'm happy to try." You smiled breathlessly as you clung to him.

In a flash he had you on your front, knees straddling your thighs as he entered you again. He leaned down, caging you in with his body and pressing you into the mattress. As his hips slapped against your ass he kissed your shoulders sloppily. He wasn't going to last much longer. You felt too good.

"Fuck me just like that Yoongi." You gasped, hands curling in the sheets, gripping them tightly. "Please, please, please."

Fuck, he was going to cum. Before he could he pulled out and squeezed the base of his cock delaying his impending orgasm. You looked at him, brow furrowed in confusion over your shoulder. You tried to push back on him but he stopped you.

"Turn over baby." He groaned. You rolled onto your back, reaching for him. "Don't want to come too soon." He exhaled, pushing back into you. You whimpered.

Yoongi pushed both of your legs together and rested them over his shoulder as he leaned into you. The angle was much deeper than before and he went as hard as he could. "I'm close again Yoongi, I might come like this." You panted.

"Come like this." He almost begged.

"Yoongi." You almost cried. "Yoongi."

It only encouraged him. He wanted you to come without having to touch yourself. The pace he kept was relentless. "Baby, please. Let go for me."

You did. He followed shortly after, holding himself with a hard thrust inside of you, holding himself as deeply in you as possible. "Fuck." He swore against your skin when he came.

You pushed some hair off of his face. "So good." You murmured, nuzzling into him. "So good."

When both of you reluctantly had cleaned up, maintaining some sort of distance you walked him to the door. Kissing him deeply as a depature was a surprise, but he welcomed it nonetheless.

"Yoongi, this isn't goodbye."

He frowned at your words.

"Yoongi this isnt goodbye. It's see you later. I promise."

***

Blearily he walked back to the room he shared with Namjoon, a little worse for wear and a lot exhausted. Normally after a night with you he would be feeling pretty great about now. There was a heavy emptiness he carried with him this time. Everything would be fine, he knew that having been through much worse in his life, but that rationale still didn't stop him from feeling shitty.

He slipped into the room to find Namjoon already up and on the phone, ordering some room service. He nodded to Yoongi in acknowledging hello. Yoongi shrugged off his jacket and shoes, throwing himself on to his twin bed with a long yawn and closed his eyes. Maybe he could have a quick rest before his turn in the shower.

"I ordered you breakfast, I figured you'd be back in time." Namjoon spoke. Yoongi hummed, unable to open his eyes. "Did you sleep at all last night hyung?"

"Nope."

"You're an animal." Namjoon laughed, correctly assuming what his friend had been up to.

"I'll sleep on the plane." Yoongi yawned again, mentally counting how many hours until the flight. If he could make it through the next six he could rest. He needed coffee urgently.

"Do you mind if I shower first?" Namjoon asked.

"Go ahead. If I'm asleep wake me up when you get out." Yoongi rolled onto his side, curling into a ball. He desperately wanted to quell the ache in his chest, chastising himself for being ridiculous. He found himself dozing off as he heard the soothing sound of the shower start to run.

It felt like thirty seconds had passed when Namjoon shook him awake, but one look at the clock told him it had been close to thirty minutes. Even though he'd requested the wake up call he still grumbled as he groggily sat up. "I'm going to shower."

"Breakfast will be here in about five."

Yoongi nodded and went to the bathroom. He washed and brushed his teeth quickly, eager to get to the coffee that was due imminently. When he returned to the room Namjoon was setting up the food for the two of them.

"Need coffee." Yoongi muttered, going straight for a mug and the pot.

"You're so grouchy when you're tired." Namjoon teased. Which in all fairness was true, but he was grouchy for more reasons than lack of sleep. He was going to have to explain to Namjoon sooner or later, the prospect of which made him feel embarrassed.

They said nothing else as they ate. Yoongi looked at his phone, caught up on some messages and emails he'd missed while with you.

"Y/N ended things with me." Yoongi eventually said. Namjoon looked at him in surprise he went to speak but Yoongi stopped him. "It's for the best. Yes I'm fine, no I don't want to talk about it."

"I..." Namjoon hesitated, confused. "Okay."

"I don't really feel like telling everyone else so if you could, yknow if it comes up. It's not a big deal."

"Sure." Namjoon was still looking at him peculiarly. "Whatever you need."

"It really isn't a big deal."

"I know, you said so."

Yoongi didn't know who he was trying to convince, himself or his friend. He couldn't wait to be on the flight and unconscious for twelve hours.

***

It was business as usual when he landed in Seoul. They had the afternoon off before a night time practice session. Yoongi was thankful to be thrown straight into the deep end with work, it was a welcome distraction. If Namjoon had told the others about you and him, he didn't know. Either way no one mentioned you and for that he was grateful. In time he'd forget and move on.

He didn't entirely trust nor believe you when you said this was on hold, not over. It would be in his best interests to assume it was done for good, he told himself. He'd pined and lusted after you for so long now, he wasn't going to do it anymore. He couldn't allow himself the luxury of that interference. Music came first now, always.

You promised to stay in touch but he wasn't going to hold his breath. Not because he assumed you disliked him but because he knew first hand how busy you were at the moment. A new boy group to manage doesn't leave a lot of free time for a social life, especially with someone who was as busy as yourself. So for now, being your friend was good enough. He wouldn't go back to being cold to you, he'd be the nice, shy Yoongi he promised you he was.

***

The first time he heard from you was through text. Roughly one month after LA. He wasn't expecting it.

from: y/n i'm watching your live stream ;-) nice sweater vest, you look like my dad

He didn't normally look at his phone during his solo lives, so he only received the text after he'd already turned off the connection. He laughed at the text before sending you a reply, defending his taste in fashion. You didn't reply to that text.

The next few weeks turned into months and you remained in contact solely through text.

from: y/n a little birdie @ bighit told me you're going to be blonde for the comeback send me pics!

from: yoongi who spilled?  [ i m a g e  s e n t ]

from: y/n cute cute cute i love it

from: yoongi your turn to send me a pic not bc i miss your face.  I just forgot what you look like

from: y/n [ i m a g e  s e n t ]

from: yoongi there she is now i remember

from: yoongi: you're going to be at the MAMA's?

from: y/n yup

from: yoongi if u get time come say hi

***

"Let me get this straight. You went from hating her, to sleeping with her, to sort of dating, then not dating and now you're constantly flirting with each other through text? My head hurts."

Yoongi looked at Seokjin and shrugged, as they both towelled the sweat off their brows after performing. Waiting in the wings of the stage until it was time to return to their seats. He didn't really have a good explanation for it either. In his mind he was just being friendly. Not that he would speak to every one of his female friends like this. Yoongi double checked to make sure no one could overhear them.

"We're just friends. You all talk to her as well." He defended.

"Not like that I don't." Seokjin smirked. "As if she sends me selfies. Don't think I didn't clock that one. Come on, Yoongi hyung."

"It's complicated." Yoongi sighed, accepting defeat. "I don't think her and I can be just friends but I'm trying."

"It's complicated because of all the loooooove." He laughed, nudging Yoongi with his elbow, who then proceeded to swat at him like he was a pestering insect.

"Shut up." He grumbled.

"She's here tonight, I passed her earlier but she was on the phone." Jin informed him. Yoongi knew that already. "I bet you end up in bed together again. Both of you are fooling yourselves."

Yoongi rolled his eyes and took that as his cue to leave the conversation. A tiny, deeply hidden part of him hoped that would be the case but he wouldn't dare allow himself to feel that. Hope was a dangerous thing.

He wonders if you're feeling as much anticipation and trepidation as he does. Even that thought creates a knot in his stomach.

"Hey blondie." He knew it was you before he looked, turning on his heel to face you. You ruffled his newly blonde locks with a grin.  "You were amazing tonight."

"Thanks." He broke out into a genuine smile, fixing his now mussed up hair. "How've you been?"

"Busy. Good." You answered, returning his smile. It had been months since he'd seen you and he cursed himself for getting so excited just being in your general vicinity. He was supposed to be moving in the other direction. The getting over you for good direction. You waved at Seokjin over his shoulder before your phone chimed with an incoming message. "I've got to run, but we'll be at the BigHit building later? See you there?"

"Yeah, sure."

You're gone as quick as you had appeared, leaving Yoongi dumbstruck in your wake.

Yoongi never saw you that night after everything. Bangtan had won a total of five awards, so he was on a high and looking to celebrate with everyone. He texted you but was left on read with no response. At the very least he had expected a response of congratulations, but his inbox remained empty.

Seokjin was wrong about you ending up together, and Yoongi was disappointed. He should have known better.

*** Time off is a rarity, so to have five entire weeks of schedule free days ahead of him had Yoongi excited. Personal projects that had taken a back seat were now finally able to be a priority for him and he was looking forward to holing himself in the studio for a few days and making some progress. Namjoon and Jimin were going travelling while the rest of the boys were going home to their families.

He had only vague plans to visit his own family but when his mother sent a guilt inducing text, Yoongi made those plans concrete. Nothing like a mother's disappointment to motivate you. He knew he needed to make more of an effort.

Daegu still always felt like home, no matter how long he had been away. Even just the smell of his house (usually whatever his mom was cooking combined with fresh laundry and flowers) made him feel comfortable. His mom gave him a bone crushing hug the instant she first saw him. He definitely had left it too long this time. Yoongi made a mental note to visit more.

It felt good to have a family meal. He remembered sadly that the last time he had shared a table with his parents had been his grandfather's funeral. It wasn't often that Yoongi thought he worked too much or too hard, but he certainly wondered now.

He forced his mother to relax while he washed the dishes, knowing how tirelessly she worked to provide for her family. He just wanted to do something nice for her, however minor or insignificant it seemed to him he knew she would appreciate it.

Yoongi's mother essentially pushed him out the door when he tried to clean the entire kitchen. He had plans with some childhood friends (not that he was particularly excited about them) and his mom knew. She yelled at him with a laugh to go enjoy himself and stop re-arranging her kitchen. Somewhat reluctantly he trudged to the bar he'd agreed to meet at.

They'd been coming to this place since Yoongi was sixteen. As soon as they realised they could get away with buying beer and not having to show ID it became a regular hang out spot for him and his friends. It's not the most amazing place he's ever been to but there's a sense of nostalgia here now that keeps them all coming back.

A quick scan of the room enabled Yoongi to spot Jongdae, sat in the back right corner of the somewhat busy bar. He weaved through the tables, greeting his old friend with a hug when he reached him.

"Even though you're so famous now you haven't changed a bit." Jongdae laughed, patting him on the back. Yoongi merely shook his head with a smile. "There's something I have to tell you - Ara's coming tonight."

"What?" Yoongi frowned, confused. "Does she know I'm - ?"

"Yeah. She knows."

Ara was Yoongi's one and only official girlfriend he'd ever had in his life. They had met in school and dated on an off for years before going separate ways. There was never any animosity between them, but there certainly was no love lost on his part either. He couldn't even remember the last time he spoke to her. He could remember her crying her eyes out when he ended things however. It still made him feel like a total dick, even to this day.

Ara was an adult who just happened to be a part of his childhood friend group. Yoongi was sure she'd moved on. He wasn't in the mood for a stifled awkward evening.

When she arrived she had Jonghyun and Jun in tow. Jongdae beckoned them over to the table. Ara gave Yoongi a polite hello and he relaxed, tension of anticipating an awkward arrival dissipating.

Most of the conversation was centred on him, much to his dismay. Yoongi was an idol and his friends found joy in playfully mocking him.

"He isn't even wearing makeup for us, guess we're not that special." Jongdae teased, squinting at Yoongi's face and pretending to look for traces of non existent foundation.

"Ah, fuck off." Yoongi couldn't help but grin. "You don't understand how irritating wearing makeup is."

"You would know." Jun laughed. Yoongi didn't miss Ara's laugh either.

"Idol life isn't easy." Jongdae mocked. "Just being rich and adored all the time. God, how awful."

"I wish," Yoongi scoffed. "At least you can have a girlfriend without everyone hating you." He said before he could think, alcohol loosening his tongue. Ara looked at him curiously.

"True, true." Jongdae agreed. "You must date a little though? On the down low?"

"I did for a while. It's hard." Yoongi sighed, cursing himself for putting a damper on the conversation. He needed to stop talking before he revealed too much.

"You're single now?" Ara asked, taking him by surprise.

"Yeah." He nodded. "I'm single."

***

He was an idiot for ending up in this situation. This is why I don't drink went through his head as he followed Ara into her home, her fingers laced through his to guide him where she wanted him. He wasn't drunk, he knew what he was doing, he'd just had enough alcohol to lower his inhibitions. Ara was a warm, willing body who wanted him and Yoongi was lonely.

Thoughts of you were creeping into his subconscious and he shook his head, as if to clear his mind. No. He couldn't and wouldn't think of you now. You didn't want him and Ara did. He'd be a fool to even consider you in this moment. Yet he couldn't help himself, memories flashing before his eyes. Like reverse psychology. The more he didn't want to think of you the more he did.

When Ara's lips touched his cock his eyes squeezed shut, willing the image of your lips around him away.  A horrible, gut wrenching thought entered his mind - the idea that you might be doing this with someone else right now and he felt sick. He gripped on to Ara's hair as if to anchor himself to reality. The reality that it was not you who he was in bed with.

It took him forever to cum, despite the enthusiasm Ara gave to the blow job. He was too much in his own head, drowning in memories. If she was offended she didn't show it, much to his relief. Yoongi did his best to get her off as well, not that he had much desire to but he wasn't selfish.

He snuck out of her room before sunrise, feeling a mixture of shame and remorse. All he wanted to do was go home and shower.

He thought about you several times on the walk to his house and wondered if the feeling was mutual. Maybe you were just better at compartmentalizing than he was. Yoongi was a textbook overthinker. He was struggling and admitting it to himself as he stumbled through the streets at 5am felt pathetic. Maybe he should have fought harder for you.

MASTERLIST

[monkeebratz]

Dad Eddie Brock Miraculous Ladybug AU - Initial Idea

OKAY SO THAT WAS A WILD FUCKING RIDE HOOOO BOY SO  LETS GET INTO THIS EVEN WILDER RIDE OF DAD EDDIE BROCK

SO. At the very start of the Eddie Brock Report. Show? Whatever its called. Eddie goes to Paris to report on a corrupt SOMEONE. I’m going to say somebody in the medical industry since that seems to be a theme here. And, of course, Eddie manages to fuck up and ends up loosing his tickets, papers, phone, and what have you. And is left stranded on the streets of Paris. 

Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng, newly married bakery owners, find this American stumbling around, clearly struggling, and invite him in. Because, honestly, its the good thing to do. And Tom’s a fucking GIANT of a man, even if Eddie DID try something, he wouldn’t get very far. Now, Sabine doesn’t speak English, but Tom speaks it a little, on behalf on Gina. So there’s a lot of miming and broken English and the handful of words Eddie picked up wondering around Paris. 

... I’m not entirely sure how, but, they strike up a friendship while Eddie is there. And when he goes back to San Francisco, he and the Dupain-Cheng’s stay in touch. Eddie works on his French and Tom and Sabine work on their English. This friendship grows into a long distance relationship. Which, once the Brock Show picks up, grows into an actual relationship! Now, I’m going to keep this purposely vague as to who is actually Marinette’s father bc honestly? It doesn’t REALLY matter. And by that I mean, it matters less if Eddie or Tom is Marinette’s biological dad, both are her fathers. So, feel free to pick and choose who is biologically her dad, but for this au, it doesn’t really matter! 

Anyway. When the Dupain-Cheng’s hear that they’re expecting, they tell Eddie, who is ecstatic! They’re having a baby! Yes!! Eddie, of course, knows that this kid is probably not his, but they will be in spirit. Annie, of course, knows about Tom and Sabine, and vice versa. Everyone’s very happy with the current situation. 

A few years pass, with frequent visits to Tom, Sabine, and baby Mari. Tom is Mari’s Papa, and Eddie is her Daddy. Later upgraded to ‘dad.’ 

And, when Mari’s about 8? Lets say 8. The events of Venom happen. And since this all obviously happens over the course of, lets say, a year, a lot goes down. Tom and Sabine hear about what happens with Eddie losing his job bc of that interview, and then they have trouble getting into contact with Eddie. He’s depressed and struggling and he doesn’t want his partners to see him like this. Doesn’t want his daughter to see him like this. 

But then VENOM happens and shit all goes. Like it does. 

Venom obviously has access to Eddie’s memories and he gets a call from Tom and Sabine and starts thinking about them and its its just. Eddie? Eddie you have offspring? Why are they not here? Eddie let us to go them and your mates. Eddie lets go. 

And Eddie, of course, is like IF, and that’s a BIG FUCKING IF, we go to Paris, there’s none of. THIS. none of that. (There is of course, lots of THAT) 

They go to Paris, and Mari is about 9-10 now and she’s so excited to see her Daddy! Tom and Sabine were just so worried its just big bear hugs. Also Tom is about the size of fully out Venom. Its hilarious. 

Venom, also, loves the idea of such a tiny child. So little. Very delicate. Much love. Pokes his head out and Mari is just. Screams. But not the bad scream, the excited child scream that comes with seeing something they love but nobody can tell the difference. So there’s panic. But then Mari has her hands full of squishy Sybiote face shouting “SLIPPERY PUPPY!” ANd all the adults are screaming.

There is, of course, and explanation of what happened and who Venom is and what’s been going on. So Mari gains ANOTHER dad, who is very eager to sit with her and have fake tea parties and have deep, kinda concerning children conversations about right and wrong and which is the best flavor of chocolate. (Venom likes dark chocolate and Mari loves milk chocolate and they will forever argue over which is better. Eddie stays out of it.) 

Now, when asked, Mari says she has three dads and one mom. That two of her dads are married and live in San Francisco and she lives her her Papa and Mama here in Paris. Nobody is ever really sure how to take that, but just kinda accept it? Mari’s whole class is weird. Though, considering how shy and isolated it seemed Mari was during her school years BEFORE the events of Miraculous Ladybug, I assume only a handful of people actually know this. 

(Also Gina gets along swimmingly with Eddie and they occasionally do reports together. And ride their motorcycles together. And drink and talk about how disappointing it was to miss so many moments of Marinette growing up.) 

Anyways, Marinette becomes Ladybug, yada yada. Except this time, there’s no secret identities. Not in the family, at least. Eddie and Venom are hero’s (or at the very least anti-heros or whatever you want to call it) and now all four of her parents are aware that she’s a superhero. 

Actually, scratch that. Marinette doesn’t become Ladybug. She becomes Lady Noire. Bc seriously this girl was clumsy as all fuck and being incredibly unlucky is like. Her THING. And also you have Venom and Plagg shenanigans. Father and daughter can bond over having these dumbass’ constantly all in their space. 

Eddie and Venom may or may not threaten Plagg that there will be NO dating. Mari is a baby and specifically THEIR baby. None of that. Plagg screeches bc SHE’S PRACTICALLY AN INFANT. A FETUS. ALSO ROMANCE IS GROSS AND HE IS MARRIED TO HIS LOVELY SUGAR CUBE NOT THIS TINY KITTEN. HE’S LIKE, THE YODA TO HER SKYWALKER. GROSS. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. CHEESE AND HIS SUGAR CUBE ARE BETTER THAN ROMANCE. 

Tom and Sabine ask that Eddie and Venom stay with them, now that Mari’s a superhero and obviously needs their help. 

So then you have Venom and Eddie (as its full on Venom training the fledgling hero’s) kicking Lady Noire and Mister Bug into shape. And shutting down this flirting bc Mari is clearly not having it. There shall be respect in this relationship! 

(Venom; Can we eat Hawkmoth?

Eddie: ... Maybe.) 

And this is. Honesty all I got so far. Here you go. 

OH NO, wait, there’s also Mari have Eddie’s sense of humor and they’re both incredibly kind so take THAT.

And the ring/bracelets Eddie wears during the movie are from the Dupain-Cheng’s. The ring was Tom’s, the beaded bracelet is from Sabine, and the braided(?) bracelet is one that Mari made him. 

and now i’m done. 

I have no idea if i’ll continue this BUT here’s the tag list. If you’d like to be added, send me an ask for next time. IF there’s a next time. Or if you have questions, drop those too, I’ll see if I’ve got anything. 

@zalladane @sassydepression @virgil-is-a-cutie

[ladybugsfanfics]

I swear I don’t have a crush [23/23]

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader | social media AU

Summary: you’re starting a new job at Stark Industries and already on the first day you’re making a fool of yourself, but maybe, just maybe, is that enough to gain someone’s attention?

warnings: some angst, a warning for Captain Dumbass, bad memes, idk

A/N: i can’t believe this is the last part! where the hell did the time go? but, holy shit, i hope you like it. there might come smth more later because i’ve gotten some comments about wanting more, but i can’t promise anything. hope you like this ^_^

masterlist

You glance at your watch for the nth time. It’s half an hour until midnight, half an hour of this nervousness coursing through your veins, and half an hour of a racing heart trying to kill you. 

“So,” says Wanda, “are you going to go for it?” 

The answer doesn’t come out right away. You give her a pained look and bite your lower lip. “I think so…” 

Nat smiles at that. “Great, because it’s about fucking time.”

“Yeah, but it hurt me. My stomach hurts, my heart aches, my head pounds, and I honestly don’t understand why I have to live in this agony.” 

The two girls shake their heads and laugh. “Oh, you’ll see it’s worth it.” Nat places her arm around your shoulder, making you face the bar where Steve stands with Bucky and Sam. “Now, go along and get your man.” She pushes you in the direction and as you stumble forward, you turn your head to give her a glare. 

But you can’t say you’re not grateful for the push. 

When you make it to the bar, both Sam and Bucky smile at you knowingly, and you shoot them both a glare. Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t notice you coming. At least, not before the couple he’s standing with excuses themselves and walks away, and you lean over the counter and signal the bartender. 

“A shot, please,” you say. “Surprise me with what,” you add, not wanting to make that decision, and it’s a shot so it’ll be down in a second. 

Steve shuffles a little, and you lean away from the counter to see him better. The suit he wears fits so perfectly, and the tie hangs from his neck just waiting to be pulled. But you restrain yourself. 

And shake your head as his lips move and you can’t hear what he’s saying. But the sound returns as the bartender asks for your attention, giving you your shot. Only after the burn has clenched to your throat, does your brain reboot and when you turn to Steve only to see him smile and slightly roll his eyes, you hit him lightly in the shoulder. 

“I’m really sorry, but I didn’t hear what you said before I took that shot.” 

Steve chuckles. “I figured, but it doesn’t matter.” 

“Well, wanna take a breath? I think I need some fresh air.” You smile sheepishly at him, and he nods, giving you his arm to latch onto. You don’t hesitate hooking your arm around his, and from there you weave through the crowd until you’re standing outside on the balcony, looking over the city view. 

As you unhook your arm from Steve’s you take a glance at your clock. It’s only been fifteen minutes since you last cast a glance down on it, and you curse yourself for wanting time to move faster. To be honest, you almost want more time. 

You want more time to prepare yourself, more time to let your pounding heart die down, more time to have your gut stop churning. You need more time to feel ready, even though you, admittedly, have wanted to kiss Steve since you spilled coffee on him that day a little over a month ago. 

And you need more time to ignore the heavily awkward air that surrounds you. Something happened after Christmas eve and he patted your head, because ever since, it’s almost like you’ve tried to avoid each other. Right now, your standing together in silence, hands resting on the railing an inch apart, and though the air isn’t awkward, its tense. 

You keep looking down at your hand, hoping Steve will make the move to hold it. But eventually, and you keep it there for rather long you think, you have to bring it to your other. The air is cold, and it’s slowly seeping into your bare arms and shoulders. 

“Do you want my jacket?” asks Steve, looking at you worriedly. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and squeeze your mouth shut to not say yes so hastily it’ll sound desperate. But, you want the jacket, and find yourself nodding slowly. 

Steve slips out of it so easily and drapes it over your shoulders, it has your heart shoot to your throat. “Thanks,” you breathe, and smile up at him as you wrap it around you. 

He shrugs. “No problem. I’m feeling rather warm anyways.”

You raise a brow at him. “Warm? It’s like thirty degrees or something!” 

“Don’t ask, I’m just feeling a little warm.” He shoots you a tight-lipped smile, and you shake your head at him. But, you have to admit, just him asking if you wanted to borrow his jacket made the heath crawl over your skin, hopefully, he was feeling warm for almost the same reason. 

You stand outside for another minute or two before the cold gets the better of both of you and Steve’s jacket isn’t enough to keep your warmth. Inside, the warmth feels like an attack. Both with the huge crowd of people Tony has invited for the party (honestly, you have no idea where these people come from, it’s like he’s invited the whole of New York) and with the knowledge that―glance at your clock says more or less five minutes―you’ll kiss Steve (because you will do it, you’ve made up your mind), makes your body feel like it’s on fire. 

“I think I need something more to drink,” you say, “want to join me?” 

“Sure, could probably use something anyways, even if it doesn’t have anything to say.”

The two of you walk through the myriad of people to an unoccupied bar. Everyone is moving in the direction of a gigantic TV showing Times Square and, soon, the start of the countdown. 

Frantic as the moment closes in―another glance at your watch says two minutes―you order another shot. Those two shots you’ve taken are the only alcohol in your blood, because your original thought was to stay as sober as possible, but a little courage can’t hurt. 

Steves fixes you with a slight stare as the bartender gives you one and you down it instantly. But, at the same time, he doesn’t look too surprised. 

“That wasn’t the drink I was expecting,” he says when you turn around and lean your back against the counter. 

“It wasn’t for me either.” You shoot him a smile. “Guess I needed the courage.”

Steve raises a brow. “Courage for what?”

You watch says a minute. “Something, you’ll know soon enough.”

“Not good enough. I want to know, now.” 

You glance around, seeing if you can spot a rather empty place. The bar may not be crowded, but it’s too crowded anyways. You find a spot a little ways down, a corner in the shadow where there are no one. 

Without saying anything, you grab Steve’s hand and drag him with you there. Fortunately you don’t have to wave through a crowd and use precious time to get there. Just as your back hits the wall and you turn around to see the question mark in Steve’s face, the ten second countdown begins. 

Your heart hammers in your chest, your lungs feel tight, and your hand shakes. But you still manage to change out Steve’s hand for his tie, and as you shift your eyes to look into his steely blue ones, his other hand comes to rest against the wall by your head. The countdown drowns out in your ears, but your hear the cheers as you pull him to you and your lips connect with his. 

The same fireworks that are going off in the night sky outside, celebrating the new year, goes off inside your gut. Your arms move to wrap around his neck, and you press your body into his. One of his hands come up to cup your face and your body presses back into the wall, helping balancing the two of you. 

Every part of your body is on fire. The places where skin meets skin, scorching hot. Your heart pounds in your body, faster than it has earlier, and something in your head has you want to laugh. It feels like a surreal dream. 

And it comes out, too, because you start to laugh in the kiss. 

Steve pulls away, raising a brow and looking at you like he did something wrong. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I just am so, so happy right now.”

A smile pulls on his lips. “So am I.” 

You pull at his tie again, dragging his face close to yours, but stopping your lips to connect. “Okay, what about this? You, me, date, tomorrow? Tonight?” 

“Sounds great.” He leans fully in, pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss that wakes the same feelings as the first one did. “How about this? You and I get out of here?”

You pull him back to you, connecting your lips with his. “Sounds great.”

permanent tags:  @devilbat​ @adefectivedetective​ @gamillian​ @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic​ @heartislubbingdubbing​ @wiczer​ @chillcan​ @geeksareunique​ @fandom-imagines1​

steve rogers tags:  @melannie77​

isidhac tags:  @songforhema​​ @drayshadow​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @sunshinein17​ @jessyballet​ @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory​ @xenwayy​ @ccolz88-blog​ @rororo06​​ @frackinawesomeninja​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @lifeisabitchandsoareyou

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU one-shot “Hidden Talents” (Rated PG13)

Summary: After the stress and pressure of wedding planning drives them out of the city, Kurt and Sebastian hide out in Sebastian's old room. Kurt starts cleaning Sebastian's closet while Sebastian flips through old yearbooks, being of no help whatsoever. While weeding through Sebastian's collection of clothes and shoes, Kurt stumbles upon something he'd never thought he'd find in a million years - Sebastian's long lost violin. (4613 words)

Notes: So, we all remember that in ACITW Sebastian plays the violin, that Julian claimed he was really good at it, and could have probably done something with it? Then it just never gets mentioned, not even once by Sebastian's parents, which leads me to believe there's a reason. This one-shot explores that reason, and whether or not Sebastian is really as proficient as his brother claims.

Part of ACITW AU

Read on AO3

“Donate or keep?” Kurt asks, holding up a fitted Marc Jacobs polo, fashionable despite its age. Then again, polo shirts are the standard, and designer never goes out of style. Like a fine wine, it matures, even if the shirt’s owner - sitting cross-legged on his bed, chuckling over photos in an old yearbook - has managed to remain perpetually sixteen.

His sense of humor pinging at a solid age twelve.

“Jeff, you bastard!” Sebastian snorts, flipping off a photo that Kurt can’t see from where he’s standing. Sebastian finds a block of sloppy text at the bottom right corner and runs a fingertip over it. He reads the slanted script, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, gatekeeper of another undignified snort. “Fuck, I miss you, man! See you at the wedding.”

Kurt clears his throat, aggravated by the amount he keeps losing Sebastian’s attention, but he can’t help smiling either. They don’t reminisce about high school often - too many mines left undetonated in those fields. But it’s nice to see Sebastian like this, especially considering the current stress they’re both under - a stress that’s driven them from their penthouse in the city back home to Westerville for the next few weeks.

Unfortunately, retreating to this sanctuary of family and nostalgia has caused that stress to amplify tenfold.

“Sebastian,” Kurt sings when even his most dramatic throat clearing doesn’t do the trick. “Oh, Sebastian. Eyes up here, please.”

Sebastian’s head snaps Kurt’s way, his brow pinched as if he only now remembered that Kurt is in the room with him, and that they have a job to do. “What?”

“Donate,” Kurt repeats in a syrupy tone (more like pine tar as opposed to maple - thicker, darker, more bitter), shaking the navy blue shirt on its hanger for emphasis, “or keep?”

“Keep,” Sebastian decides in an instant, then returns to his yearbook, snickering at another picture on the same page.

“Good,” Kurt murmurs, setting the polo aside. I intend on borrowing that one, he thinks, finding the silver lining since he’s the only one of the two of them taking this task seriously. He rifles through the closet and pulls out another shirt, one less style-savvy than the polo. That’s okay. At this point, it can be deemed retro. Regardless, Kurt has no intention of borrowing it. “How about this one? Donate or keep?”

Sebastian’s eyes flutter up from the page, barely focusing on the shirt before returning to the book in his lap. “Keep.”

Kurt rolls his eyes as he lays this shirt over the polo. He’d really hoped this one would end up in the donate box. If they hold on to it, there’s a chance Sebastian might actually decide to wear it, which puts the burden on Kurt to come up with something for himself that matches (provided they don’t want to run the risk of blinding anyone).

Kurt didn’t fall in love with Sebastian for his taste in clothes, which, to be fair, is decent - long lines; primary colors; simple, clean-cut elegance that pairs well with Kurt’s bolder, more adventurous choices. Sebastian can be quite the fashion plate himself when he has a mind to, one rogue t-shirt notwithstanding.

He lets Kurt style him more times than not so Kurt can’t complain.

Kurt goes back to the closet and selects a pair of shorts he knows don’t fit Sebastian anymore. They’re from Sebastian’s lacrosse days, when his thighs were bulkier, his glutes rounder. Not that Sebastian doesn’t have a gorgeous body now. His fitness regimen is impressive, even by Kurt’s standards. But spending hours on end running up and down a grass field does wonders for the buns and thighs.  

Kurt doesn’t want to banish everything from Sebastian’s Dalton days. Sebastian’s lacrosse uniforms were the first things Kurt slipped into the keep box without asking his say so. But these tan shorts are atrocious! He’s glad that after an hour of this, they’ll finally have a submission to the donate box, which has collected only dust so far along with one lonely copy of Mein Kampf - a relic from senior year AP European History.

“Donate or keep?” Kurt asks, dangling the garment presumptively over the donation box.

Sebastian glances at it, tilting his head and giving the matter a soupcon of thought. “Donate.”

Kurt removes the shorts from their clips with a sigh of relief. Finally! he thinks. Now we’re getting somewhere! But before he has the chance to drop them in, Sebastian recants (without looking up). “No, keep. Keep.”

“What!” Kurt stares at Sebastian, mouth agape. “Why? These don’t even fit you!”

“Are they too big or too small?”

“Too big! Plus, they’re cargo shorts, Sebastian! Cargo shorts!”

“They’ll be good for layering.”

Kurt’s eyes go buggy and wide. Sebastian hasn’t peeked, but he grins knowing what Kurt must look like right now, that vein in his head that throbs when he gets upset ready to burst. “When in the world would you need to layer shorts!?”

“I dunno,” Sebastian mumbles, eyes glued to a new page.  

Kurt growls, slamming the offensive item into the overflowing keep box, which might as well be labeled the Why are we wasting our time here? box. “Are you planning on getting rid of anything?”

“Uh …” Sebastian looks up and around. “Yes. That burrito wrapper over there.” He points to the corner of his desk where the trash from their lunch had been unceremoniously abandoned in favor of this. “That definitely needs to go.”

“Ha ha,” Kurt says, reluctantly cleaning up the mess. He objects to playing maid in his fiance’s old bedroom, but since he’s not currently doing anything of value, he grabs the stiff paper wrapper and crumples it in his hands - no, strangles it, using it as a stand-in for Sebastian’s neck. Sebastian turns to the next page, but looks up when he hears the wrapper succumb to Kurt’s crushing fingers.

“Oh, wait! I don’t think I finished …” Sebastian gestures repeatedly at the wadded wrapper, unable to think of a suitable end to his sentence, his brain sandwiched between curbing Kurt’s annoyance and processing the sentiments on the page without them bringing a tear to his eye. People say that if high school was one of the best times in your life, you were probably a privileged asshole. Well, he was. And it was … mostly. “I may want to hold on to that a little while longer.”

“Why!?”

“Dunno.”

“What the---!?” Kurt slams the balled up wrapper down with an irritated yawp. “Cleaning out your closet was your idea you know!”

“Oh contraire,” Sebastian retorts with maddening superiority. “All I said was that I may want to siphon out a few things while I’m here. You’re the one who came up with the brilliant idea of paring down my things and donating them to charity.”

“And why not? What good does any of this stuff do just sitting here in this closet? It’s not like you’re planning on moving any of it to our place and wearing it!”

“True, but if I get rid of it, what would my mother have in her later years to rummage through sentimentally, hold to her cheek and sigh when she misses me?”

Kurt shakes his head slowly, unamused on Charlotte’s behalf. “That’s just … horrible. Like the plot of a bad Hallmark Christmas movie.”

“There are good Hallmark Christmas movies? I sure as hell never seen one.”

“Hmph. And you say I watch too many cheesy chick flicks.”

“You do, but that’s entirely beside the point.”

“You’ve got tons of clothes here you don’t use,” Kurt presses with renewed vigor. “It wouldn’t hurt to get rid of some of it, make someone else’s day brighter by giving them the opportunity to purchase name brands for a bargain. I know that always cheers me up.”

“Weren’t you the one telling me that as much as you love Marie Kondo, closet purging is overwhelming the charity industry, and that most of the stuff we donate ends up on barges traveling the world, bouncing from port to port until they inevitably sink into the sea and devastate the aquatic ecosystem?”

“Yes, but at the time you were trying to get me to trim down my Jimmy Choo collection.”

“Because no one in their right mind needs eighty-six pairs of the same patent leather loafer, Kurt!”

Kurt tuts sharply. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“I do know you! That’s how I knew that if I came out against your plan, you’d get loud and yell-y! That’s what I was trying to avoid! I only went along with it because …“ Sebastian’s sentence cuts off when he clamps his jaw shut with a clack that shoots straight up Kurt’s spine. If Sebastian’s tongue had been anywhere near his teeth, part of it would have been chomped clean off.

“Because what?” Kurt asks, sore at being accused of acting ‘yell-y’ - a stone’s throw too close to ‘groomzilla’, which they’ve both accused one another of too many times in the last three months to count.

Sebastian sighs, rearranges his legs on the bed so that they’re spread and not twisted like a pretzel. “Asking you up here was an excuse to get you alone for five frickin’ minutes. We’ve been swamped since the second we got here! We left the city to escape your friends and my friends and the wedding planner’s incessant phone calls. But my mom and Olivia took over where everyone else left off.”

“They’re just excited for us,” Kurt says soothingly, not admitting yet that he knows exactly how Sebastian feels.

“I realize that. And I’m glad they’re excited but …” Sebastian thumbs the edges of the pages he has yet to read, watches them fall beneath his hand one by one “… who knew that deciding to get married would mean never getting a moment’s peace?”

“I guess they figure we’ll get enough of that after we’re married.”

“Then they don’t know us very well, do they?” Sebastian scoffs, venom lacing his words, so palpable it gives Kurt a rash.

Ever since Kurt moved up the ranks from Flying Monkey in the cast of Wicked to the more coveted role of Fiyero, he’s been in higher demand, and thus, less available. Even to Sebastian.

Kurt has dreamed of planning his own wedding for years. He’d started an idea book along the way, cutting out photographs from bridal magazines and gluing them into the pages, creating palettes and themes depending on current trends, potential venues, and time of year. But with both Kurt’s and Sebastian’s schedules so hectic, they had to weigh the importance of Kurt planning their wedding against the probability of them marrying before the turn of the century.

Getting married won, but only by a slim margin.

They hired the best wedding planner in the city, recommended by everyone in their tax bracket, whose artistic vision matched Kurt’s nearly beat by beat (according to the pictures on her website of ceremonies she’d helped bring to fruition). To Sebastian’s naive mind, that meant they would leave everything in her capable hands while they went on with their lives, drop in for the occasional consultation to check that the roses she chose suit Kurt’s vision or that the place settings have the right number of candles in them.

But Kurt literally hated everything their planner came up with.

So they’ve had to be present for every second of their wedding’s creation to ensure they’ll get the chance to celebrate the way they want.

They’re paying someone else thousands of dollars for Kurt to plan their wedding anyway.

The irony is staggering.

To that end, they’re having two weddings - one for their New York friends and associates, and a second intimate ceremony for their Ohio family.

Sebastian knew from go that Kurt’s pack of female friends from high school would descend upon them and monopolize Kurt’s time with the obligatory brunches and showers, which was understandable and therefore forgivable. What Sebastian didn’t factor in was the amount in which the theater company would use Kurt’s engagement as a PR instrument, slipping it into every interview, at every opportunity how one of their leading male cast members is months away from wedding his wealthy boyfriend, playing the whole thing up as some sort of fairy tale (with the term ‘fairy’ vaguely but constantly applied).

Broadway’s full of gays, remember! And this one’s gettin’ hitched!

Sebastian thought the whole thing vulgar but he didn’t sweat it … not until the side-effects of that exploitation began to bleed in to their every day lives.

Namely the celebrity.

Sebastian is accustomed to having eyes on him. He’s a handsome man and he knows it. He’s used his charm and his checkbook to open doors that weren’t already propped for his arrival his entire life. What he wasn’t used to was the sheer amount of eyes that would follow him everywhere. Letters addressed to Kurt showed up at his office. Paparazzi camped out on their doorstep. Admirers stopped him on the street to ask him every manner of question.

And Kurt’s fans knew no shame.

An unsolicited tide of attention chased them back home, along with an utter lack of privacy because everybody knows.

Everybody.

Even out here in backwater Ohio.

Checkers at the supermarket, cashiers at Target, the guy filling up the tanks at the gas station down the block, pretty much every single person they’ve come in contact with has congratulated them on their wedding.

How people found out Kurt and Sebastian had gone to Ohio, Sebastian has no idea. They left in the middle of the night and drove so they wouldn’t have to fuss with tickets. No one needed to be informed because time off for both of them had been arranged ahead of time. But someone found out they’d left early, and that person told because they’ve received everything from gift baskets to magnums of champagne at both the Smythe estate and Kurt’s father’s home.

The (now mildly - because that’s considered progress) homophobic country club that refused to let Kurt and Sebastian take dance lessons as a couple had the nerve to call and congratulate Greg and Charlotte on their son’s upcoming nuptials, offering them use of their main ballroom for the wedding, the reception, any accompanying shindigs they had planned - the same ballroom that hosted both Presidents Reagan and Carter during their administrations (they mentioned more than twice).

Olivia happened to be at the house the day they called, so Charlotte gave her the honor of the telling them where they could shove their offer.

It made Olivia’s day.

“If you’d told me from the beginning that you wanted to get me alone,” Kurt says, arching a suggestive eyebrow, “we’d be on your bed making out instead of doing mindless busywork on opposite ends of the room.”

“Ooo. Sounds like a plan,” Sebastian says, throwing Kurt a wink … then goes back to his yearbook, finger raised in a pause gesture. “Just … give me … one second.”

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Wow. That’s just … that’s just … wow. Thanks a lump.” Ego bruised, he turns back to the closet. He pushes the clothes aside, giving up on that front for a while, and tackles the floor. He smirks when he sees Sebastian’s shoes, stored in their boxes, lined up in rows and stacked three deep. If he knows his fiance, the majority of them are boat shoes, each in the exact same style but different colors.

Make fun of me for my eighty-six pairs of loafers, will you?

He reaches for the topmost box but gets distracted when his hand brushes something hard and canvas leaning against the wall. Kurt steps aside to let more light in since the object blends in with the shadows. Kurt gets a good look at it, realizes what it is, and his heart stutters in his chest.

“Oh my …” He grabs hold of the handle and tugs it out gently. “So here it is. The fabled violin.”

That succeeds in getting Sebastian’s attention. His eyes light up when he sees Kurt approach carrying the case in his arms. Kurt hands the violin case over and Sebastian takes it, bringing it to him like a sacred artifact from his own past - one he thought he’d never lay eyes on again.

“It’s been forever,” Sebastian gasps. “I forgot I put it in this closet. I thought my mother had it.”

“Why did you give it up?” Kurt asks, watching Sebastian open the case to reveal the sublime instrument, wood polished and gleaming, appearing deceptively brand new with the exception of a few tells that speak to how much Sebastian played it - light-colored wear on the fretboard, a cloudiness to the finish on the chin rest, scratches here and there on the veneer.

“It’s just one of those things that faded from my life, stopped bringing me joy … about the same time everything else did.”

“Do you think you’d ever play it again?”

“Possibly.” Sebastian removes the violin from its case and holds it lengthwise in front of his eyes, examining it from end to end. “I mean, it’s been a dog’s age. I’m not sure I’d be any good at it.”

“Any chance it’s like riding a bike and you never forget?”

“Only one way to find out.” Sebastian plucks the strings in succession and smiles. It doesn’t sound too far off pitch to Kurt. Sebastian adjusts the strings, checking them against one another to make sure they’re in tune. Then he removes the bow from its resting place and tightens it. “Don’t rag on me too hard if I completely suck at this.”

“I won’t,” Kurt says. “I promise. I’ll just, you know, bring it up subtly at special occasions and bank holidays, maybe find a way to fit it into my toast at the wedding.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Sebastian rosins up his bow. He fits the violin underneath his chin. From the second it touches his skin, his attitude changes. He simultaneously tenses and relaxes, reminiscent of the way he behaved during their first sushi date, when he dropped eel and flecked soy sauce all over Kurt’s clothes. Kurt refrains from laughing at the memory. He doesn’t want Sebastian to think he’s laughing at him. But he can’t help smiling. Yes, their past is riddled with landmines, but the memories hidden in the flat, stable ground between never cease to make him glad.

Glad that he and Sebastian got together in the end.

Sebastian runs the bow experimentally over the strings, the sound it produces warm and rich, like hot Godiva cocoa on a cold, rainy day. Sebastian leans into that tone as he runs through scales, drawing end notes out a full four beats before launching into the next set. The quickness in which he picks it up takes Kurt’s breath away.

If Kurt was thinking of making fun of Sebastian for anything, he surely isn’t now.

“Why don’t we start with a classic, hmm?” Sebastian suggests, cheeks starting to pink from the look of open and unabashed awe on Kurt’s face.

“Where do you want to start? Bach? Beethoven?”

“I think …” Sebastian sits up taller, corrects his posture “… Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt teases, but with less snark than usual. “I wouldn’t want you to set yourself up to fail or anything.”

“It’s good to go back to the basics. Limber up the old chops, so to speak.”

“Are they still chops if you’re talking about your fingers?”

“Don’t know,” Sebastian says with a shrug. “I didn’t invent it.”

Kurt settles in comfortably on the bed as he waits for Sebastian to pull something mid-range from his bag of tricks, like Minuet in G, a piece that millions of children have hammered out on innocent instruments since learning the recorder in middle school became mandatory. But true to his word, Sebastian starts with Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, picking the notes on the strings with his forefinger. But one verse in, he puts the bow to the strings, and starts a whole other story.

Kurt had expected Sebastian to be rusty, suffer a few false starts before he got into the swing of things. Scales are one thing. They follow a predictable pattern. It’s fairly simple to keep them smooth. But Sebastian sounds like he put his violin down for the last time yesterday. Kurt almost stops him to accuse him of having a secret violin hidden somewhere that he’s been practicing on this entire time, probably at his office where Kurt wouldn’t see. He considers pulling out his phone and texting Sebastian’s secretary, interrogating her to see if she’ll spill about any mid-afternoon practice sessions when the partners were out at lunch.

Though, in this particular instance, Kurt doesn’t know if Sebastian is more likely to hide his tremendous talent or rub it in his face.

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star ends and Sebastian melds it into a classical melody, one Kurt can’t name off-hand though he knows he’s heard it before. It’s slow, romantic - the kind of piece a director would use to cap off the credits on a bittersweet rom-com, one where the tragic heroine, diagnosed with a withering variety of late-stage cancer, dies after the love of her life proposes.

It’s sad.

So incredibly sad.

That sadness lingers in the air after the notes dissolve, becomes stronger, more powerful with every sway of Sebastian’s body. He’d closed his eyelids when this piece started and he’s fallen into the sadness, let it envelope him.

It’s become a part of him. Maybe it’s always been a part of him and he’s just now letting it out for Kurt to see.

Or he never intended on Kurt seeing it, and this is simply an accident.

Whatever it is, Sebastian finally notices it because he switches, keeps the same key but changes the song, seamlessly transforming into something more contemporary, slightly more upbeat.

Kurt’s heart stops when he realizes the song Sebastian is playing is from Wicked. Not only that, it’s a song Kurt sings as Fiyero.

As Long as You’re Mine.

Sebastian has never, to Kurt’s knowledge, played that song on the violin or any instrument, has never sung that song himself, hasn’t seen the sheet music. He’s heard Kurt sing it over and over, practicing it in their bathroom until the tile could sing it back to him. But now he’s playing it on an instrument he hasn’t picked up in decades.

Kurt swallows hard, heart swollen with pride but his chest hollow with jealousy.

That’s talent. True talent.

Even Blaine might not be that talented.

Kurt would kill for that kind of talent.

Years they’ve been together, they’re about to get married, and Kurt thought he knew everything there is to know about this man. But Sebastian is still such an enigma. What is Kurt going to learn in another ten years? After twenty?

On the one hand, it’s daunting the way these secrets pop up out of nowhere.

But more than that, Kurt is excited to find out.

Sebastian plays through the first verse again when the song ends, a twinkle in his eyes trying to coax Kurt into singing it while he plays. Sebastian plays with such emotion that, even though Kurt would love to duet with him, he can’t bring himself to - too transfixed to make his mouth move, or even hum the tune. But he hears the words in his head, hears their meaning ring in his ears. He’s never paid too much attention to the words outside of what they mean in the musical. Now he’s hearing them, understanding them, for a different reason all together:

Kiss me too fiercely Hold me too tight I need help believing You're with me tonight My wildest dreamings Could not foresee Lying beside you With you wanting me

Sebastian ends not on a note of completion, but open-ended, with the promise of more.

Longing for more.

“Julian was right,” Kurt says, clearing his heart from his throat.

“He’ll be ecstatic to hear that,” Sebastian teases, casually shelving the emotions his violin brought to the surface.

“You do play beautifully. You should have gone to NYADA.”

“That’s … that’s very kind of you, babe,” Sebastian says, flashing a rare shy smile, knowing how great a compliment that is coming from Kurt, how much NYADA has meant to him. “But being good at the violin and being a musician are two completely different things. And I’m not a musician. Or a performer. Not like you. I enjoy it … I definitely enjoy that you enjoy it … but it’s not in my blood. I mean, obviously, seeing as I could put this violin down for so long and not even think about it, hmm?”

Kurt wonders about that after Sebastian says it. It’s easy to believe considering Kurt found out about Sebastian’s playing not from Sebastian but from Julian (the night he devised a plan to break the two of them out of dance lessons no less). Other than that, he can’t remember for the life of him either brother bringing it up again. Even Charlotte, who praises in excess everything her children have accomplished, has never brought it up, not even to say that she misses it. The way Sebastian holds the violin to his chest reminds Kurt of the way Blaine held his favorite guitar - as if it, and not Kurt, were his soulmate. As with so many things in Sebastian’s past, Kurt suspects there’s a bigger story surrounding this violin and why he stopped playing it than he’s putting on.

It had faded from his life, he’d said. Stop bringing him joy about the same time everything else did.

The same time things went south with Julian and Sebastian moved away, which would explain why it seems to have been erased from family history.

“So what do you think? Donate?” Sebastian asks with a surreptitious sniffle. He doesn’t let go of the violin, doesn’t return it to its case. On the contrary, he seems to hug it tighter. “Maybe to one of those inner city performing arts programs you love to volunteer for so much?”

“No! Keep! A definite keep!” Kurt gushes. “Maybe you can put it down and never play it again, but now that I’ve heard you, I don’t think I can exist without your playing in my life!”

“But I thought you said I was keeping too much stuff.”

“Meh,” Kurt dismisses with a wave, done with the whole concept of cleaning Sebastian’s closet anyhow. “What’s too much stuff when you can fit half of Central Park in your penthouse? Plus, I have to think of your mother, right? Wasting away in this run-down, rickety shack with nothing at all to remind her of her youngest son? Especially not the thousands of photos and videos she’s taken over the years.”

Sebastian looks at Kurt through long eyelashes, a wicked streak creeping into his smile, turning it into a full-fledged smirk. “I guess we could always switch out some of my old lacrosse uniforms for it.”

“What?” Kurt sits up straight, the color draining from his face. He knew Sebastian would find out about that eventually (on their honeymoon, if not sooner), but he didn’t think he’d caught him when he did it. “No! No, no, no reason to do that. Who says I even … uh … weren’t we going to make out?”

[portals-to-a-new-world]

Shattered Glass

Who?: John Kennex x Reader

What?: YN and John fight, forcing both of them to realize some truths neither were willing to admit. 

Word Count: 4724

Warnings: Angst, Intrusive Thoughts, Self-Image Struggles, Portrayals of Depression and Anxiety, Language, Smut, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it, y’all), Semi-Public Sex, Fluff 

A/n: Hey y’all! This started out as a therapy fic for me after I’d had a bad day at work and just sort of snowballed lol. I’d just like to reiterate that this has portrayals of negative self image and anxiety/depression so please don’t put yourself at risk if that’s going to trigger you. I’d like to give yet another shoutout to the absolutely brilliant @bakerstreethound​, without whom this story couldn’t have happened. She kept me sane during the beginning and has been the bestest friend and partner anyone could ask for. Ace, I really don’t know what I’d do without you 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 Finally, I’m not tagging in this one, simply because I’m currently trying to work out a way to organize my tags so that people only get tagged in what they want to be :). Keep an eye out for a post soon with further details, peaches. Oh just one more thing, I’ve been seeing a lot of blogs having their works reposted on other sites without permission, and I’d like to establish here that I do not give anyone permission to repost my works. I’m on AO3 under the same username, but any other sites are not me. 

Rough days were standard in your line of work. You'd think that after 3 years in the industry, the last 5 months of which being spent with your current employer, would have you used to the stress. Then again, you weren't sure anyone could get used to the bitch of a co-worker who was causing 80% of your issues. You were higher up in the company than her, but because she'd been with them longer, she seemed to think she could order you around. Going to your bosses achieved nothing, as she was apparently "invaluable" to the company, and didn't bother listening to them anyway. It wasn't a big deal at first, just one of those "ignore them, and they'll go away" situations, but as time progressed it got increasingly worse. Today you were forced to endure her screaming insults and ranting at you about a mistake your partner had made. Your day only seemed to get worse from there, and by the time you got off, you were about ready to blow a fuse. 4 bouts of road rage and a spilled coffee later, and you finally walked through the door to your apartment, slamming it shut behind you. John's head poked around the corner from the kitchen, noodles hanging from his lips. "Jesus. Is the door still standing?" He asked once he'd swallowed. You just huffed in response. He raised an eyebrow as you walked past without giving your usual greeting in the form of a kiss. "Hello to you, too, then." He mumbled. You waved your hand sarcastically over your shoulder.

"Hey," You said. John's concern was written all over his face as he followed you into the living room. He spoke as you plopped onto the couch, placing your head in your hands.

"I'd ask if you're okay, but clearly you're not so-"

"Sorry, Detective, but you must be losing your touch because I'm fine." You said, looking up to offer a strained smile, which was met with a skeptical eyebrow raise.

"Uh-huh, and Richard's being promoted to captain. Don't bullshit me, (Y/N/N). What's wrong?" He placed a hand on your shoulder as he finished. You shrugged it off and stood to your feet, ignoring the incredulous look on his face at your actions.

"I said I'm fine, John. Just let it go." You turned to walk away, but his hand shot out to grab ahold of your wrist. You tried to tug it free, which only served to draw him to his feet. He pinned your arm against his chest, pulling you in close. "Let me go." You said as you continued to struggle against him. Any other time you'd've found being pinned against such a handsome bastard incredibly sexy, in fact, that's probably why he did it in the first place. The notion was like throwing a match onto gasoline, igniting the rage that had been simmering under the surface into a full-on blaze.

"What the hell's gotten into you??" He demanded.

"I told you to fucking let it go, Kennex. In fact, you might as well go ahead and leave altogether, cause I'm not in the mood to fuck you tonight." He dropped your wrist as if scalded and took two steps back to search your face in angry disbelief before replying.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" You threw your hands in the air in exasperation.

"Oh, come on! I'm not stupid, John. There was never going to be anything serious between us. You're not capable of trusting, let alone loving, anyone after Anna, and even if you were, you'd never choose me." He opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off. "No, you wouldn't. Put me in a line up with every woman you've ever been attracted to, and the differences are fucking painfully obvious." You took a deep breath before continuing. "I was not, and never will be, anything more to you than convenient, no matter how much I love you. Okay? So, you don't have to pretend to fucking care anymore, John."

"How dare you! I can't believe I'm standing here listening to this bullshit; matter of fact," He paused and gestured as if an idea just occurred to him. "I'm not going to!" He stormed over to his coat and yanked it off the counter before throwing it on. He stopped momentarily to look back at you, mouth open to speak before sighing roughly in frustration. "Fuck this." Without another word, he was going out your door, slamming it so hard behind him that the pictures on the wall fell and crashed on the floor. In a single moment, everything in you shattered like glass. You collapsed in a heap as sobs began to rip through your chest. It's for the best. He would have left eventually, anyway. Why would he want to stay with a useless, disgusting, pathetic thing like you? God, you can't even handle the basic stress of everyday problems, while he's out there still doing his job after everything he's been through. I mean, how weak can you be?? No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop the thoughts from invading your mind. Each one cut deeper than the last until you were numb. Eventually you stood to your feet, drained and feeling hopeless. Your body moved on autopilot, carrying you through your nightly routine and into bed. You slept in fits and starts, nightmares plaguing nearly every second. When your body finally gave in to the utter exhaustion, a tiny part of you had hoped that you would wake up to find it'd all been a dream. Most of you didn't want to wake up at all, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, neither part of you got its wish. You did indeed wake up, and you woke up to an empty bed. Your heart broke as you realized just how badly you'd fucked up. You didn't have time to dwell on your failures, though, as your phone was ringing, and upon answering, you discovered you were over an hour late for work. You shot up out of bed and quickly threw some clothes on, rushing through your morning essentials. As you stepped out of your front door, you looked up and saw dark storm clouds rolling in. You flipped through the radio in your car and found out that the storms were supposed to last through the rest of the week. At least the weather matched how you felt inside. Unsurprisingly, your problematic co-worker was standing ready to lay into you the moment you stepped through the doors. It took every ounce of what little strength you had left not to break down right then and there. By some stroke of luck, she was called away by your bosses, and you quickly took off to your desk. Your day was almost typical, until around 2 pm, your phone buzzed with an incoming text. Your heart stopped as you looked at the name on the screen. John. Your hands were shaking as you unlocked the phone to read the message.

Come by my place when you get off. We need to have a serious talk. 

All of your fears came crashing down on you at once, punching through your chest like a bullet. You stumbled your way into the bathroom and latched onto the sink edge to anchor yourself. So this really was it. He was breaking up with you. Your hand flew up to press against your chest as the ache there blossomed into raw agony. At least he had the decency to do it in person. He could have just ghosted you. You continued to rub your chest as you typed out a simple 'okay' in response. A quick glance at the time revealed that you still had three hours left in your shift. You took a few deep breaths and splashed some cool water on your face. The last thing you needed was for someone to ask "what's wrong" and you end up breaking down in front of God and everyone. After you managed to calm down enough to return to your desk, time seemed to slow down, until the remaining three hours felt like twelve. You'd also discovered that you'd left your rain jacket at John's the last time you'd spent the night. Still, most of your body was numb by then anyway, so it didn't really matter as you stepped out into what had to be a freezing downpour at the end of your shift. In all honesty you were grateful for the numbness. You almost certainly would have never been able to drive had it not been for the near void that threatened to consume you as you drove through the crowded city. When you pulled up into the driveway, some of the emptiness cleared away, leaving panic in your chest and your whole body shivering as you sprinted to the door. You hardly registered John opening the door and pulling you inside. Your focus was locked on to the way his face moved while he spoke, committed to memorizing every detail while you still had the chance. Your gaze had fallen to his perfectly plump lips when you realized he was saying your name.

"Y/n, can you hear me, sweetheart?" You shook your head to clear some of the fog from your mind. Might as well get it over with.

"Yeah-" You cleared your throat. "Yeah, I can hear you. When do you wanna come by and get your stuff? Or would you rather me just drop it off here for you?" Confusion flooded his features as you finished.

"What are you talking about? Why would I need my stuff back?" Damn, was he so done with you that he didn't even want his stuff back? You dropped your eyes, knowing that you wouldn't be able to hold his gaze without breaking down completely.

"You're breaking up with me, right?" You cursed silently as tears began to stream down your face. Gentle fingers pressed up beneath your chin to tilt your face back up.

"You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you?" You didn't respond, too caught up in the softness of his eyes, and he didn't bother waiting for one anyway. "I said I shouldn't have walked out on you last night. I had some excuse about being tired, but the truth is I was afraid because you were right. I didn't think I would ever be able to love anyone again after Anna." Your heart clenched and the tears began to fall even harder as breathing became difficult. Had you been watching his face, you would have seen the heartache ooze across his features as he watched you break down in front of him. As it were, your gaze had fallen back to the floor, and you jumped when his hand moved up to cradle your face softly. "I was so pissed at myself, and at you for being right, that it wasn't until this morning when I woke up without you in my arms, and it hurt that I realized just how wrong we both had been. You're wrong about me never choosing you. You're smart and kind, and so beautiful you take my breath away when you walk into a room." You hiccupped and fell apart as you processed what he was saying to you. He rushed to pull you into his arms as your knees threatened to give out, and just held you until you could breathe again. He pulled back far enough to look you in the eyes before he continued speaking. "And I was wrong. Because I do love you, and I'm sorry it took me so long to figure that out." You gasped deeply and threw your arms around his neck.

"I'm so sorry too. I never should have taken out my frustrations about work on you."

"It's alright. Do you wanna talk about it?" Part of you still felt stupid about the reason for your outburst, but you felt so safe in his embrace that you found yourself nodding in affirmation. He placed a kiss on the top of your head and let you go. The sudden lack of his warmth sent shivers up your spine.

"Jesus. Why's it so cold in here?" You asked, rubbing your arms. He reached out and took your hand with a grin.

"Part of your surprise." He said with a wink. "Come on. I'll show you." You followed him around the corner and into the main room. You came to a stop as your eyes fell on the mounds of blankets and pillows arranged on the floor. He turned to look back when you stopped, and he seemed disappointed when you just looked at him in confusion. "You mentioned a while back that you loved the sound of the rain on the roof here. I'd figured-" He cringed slightly as he stumbled over his words. "Well, I mean I'd hoped-" He began to rub the back of his neck nervously before he continued. "I'd hoped that we'd be able to work things out, so I went ahead and got everything set up. Since they're calling for the storms to last for so long and all." Deciding to put him out of his misery, you stepped forward and pulled him down into a kiss. All the tension left his body as your lips connected, and you couldn't help but grin as you broke apart.

"I promise to not tell Dorian that you're secretly a big ol teddy bear who remembers tiny details about his girlfriend." You joked. John rolled his eyes, but still had a small smile on his face as he pulled you back in for another kiss. Despite his closeness, another chill ran down your spine, reminding you of your original query. "Doesn't explain why it's so flippin cold in here, though." He looked at you and gestured as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's a pillow fort. And you've got the internal body temperature of a small space heater. I'd really prefer to not sweat my ass off." He said. You bit your lip to hide your grin as you nodded gravely before replying.

"That would be a tragedy." He also was fighting a smirk as he slightly tilted his head in agreement.

"Exactly. My ass is a national treasure," He said. You giggled and let your smile finally breakthrough as he gestured in a 'come hither' motion. You began to worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you stepped forward. He reached over and pulled the soaking wet towel from your shoulders, surprise in his eyes as if something had just occurred to him. You stepped forward in concern as his eyes seemed to zone out and darken.

"John? What's wrong?" He seemed to snap out of his trance, and he cleared his throat before gesturing to your body.

"Your shirt. It's soaked. You're gonna catch a cold." You followed his gaze to your chest to discover that his eyes had not darkened in anger or frustration, but in lust. He was right, your shirt was absolutely dripping wet. It was also white. Ah.

"Would you prefer me to take it off?" You joked. A smirk emerged on his lips, sending a shudder through you that had nothing to do with the cold. He nodded and closed the distance between you.

"Purely in the interest of your health, of course," He said lowly. You tilted your head in mock defeat and began undoing the buttons of your shirt slowly.

"Well, I'm sure you know best, Detective." You barely made it half-way down the line before his lips were crashing into yours and his hands taking over to speed through the remaining buttons. He paused before he could push the garment off of your shoulders.

"Is this- I mean I don't want to assume- Or make you think I'm only after-" You cut him off with another kiss and shrugged out of the sleeves. He still seemed hesitant, right up until you nipped at his bottom lip. He huffed out a breathless growl before returning the favor, his hands landing on your bare waist to pull you into him. He swiped his tongue across your lip in a silent request for entrance, which you happily granted. Your hands moved to grip at his shoulders while his own began an exploration of your body, sliding up your spine and across your stomach before dropping from your skin entirely. You whined at the loss of contact, but he quickly made up for it by reaching down and pulling his shirt over his head. He leaned back down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. "Just making things even," He murmured against you. His hands found your hips as he led you to the center of the room without breaking the kiss, but it was his turn to grunt in surprise when you gently pushed him down on the pillows. "What-" He stopped when your hands moved to play with the clasp of your bra.

"We're not even yet, Detective." You said coyly. You barely got the garment off before he was tugging you down on top of him and into another breathtaking kiss. A moan escaped your lips as he nibbled your ear, trailing kisses down your neck. You brought a finger up to his mouth, stopping his assault. "We're not done yet, detective." You were smirking and trailing your hands across every bit of his skin you could reach, but you were partly just trying to hide the way you were trembling at having him so close. Another part was just reassuring itself that he was really there, not believing that he was finally truly yours, that you had the broken-hearted detective beneath you. It all felt like a dream until he ground up against you and whispered in your ear.

"Please, (Y/n)," He didn't even finish his sentence before you were climbing off of him to quickly remove your pants and underwear. He followed your lead and, to your surprise, pulled you back down on top of him once he'd finished. You uttered a whimper as he brushed up against your soaked folds, but it turned into a full-fledged whine as he slowly guided you down onto his length. He cursed and his eyes fluttered closed once he was fully sheathed inside you. You both took a moment to breathe and adjust to the sensation, and he finally looked at you when his hands began to guide your hips. "I love you." You leaned down to claim his lips again, tears threatening to fall at the words you'd never thought you'd hear him say. 

"I love you too." You said, pulling back to meet his gaze once again. Such a small declaration, yet it made every movement, every touch, feel different. It was slow and passionate, so contrary to the fast and rough pace that was the norm with John. You couldn't bring yourself to look away from his deep hazel eyes, full of love and adoration, as you moved in perfect sync together. He rose with every fall, hitting so deep inside you that you knew you'd be feeling him for weeks. Your hips began to stutter as the sensations threatened to overwhelm you, and without missing a beat John flipped the two of you. A yelp escaped your kiss swollen lips as his nimble fingers slipped between the two of you to rub deliciously at your clit, and you could feel yourself rapidly approaching your orgasm. "John- please- don't stop!" He seemed more than happy to oblige, maneuvering to thrust impossibly deeper as his lips found your ear once again.

"You gonna cum for me, beautiful? I-" Whatever sweet nothing he had planned to say was choked off into a moan as your orgasm hit you. Your walls clamping down around him dragging him over the edge with you as he worked you through until you were whining with oversensitivity. He finally slid out of you and quickly retrieved a towel to clean you up. When he'd finished, he laid back down beside you and wrapped an arm around you, resting your head on his chest. You hummed in contentment as he began to stroke your hair, nearly drifting off before an idea occurred to you.

"John?" You mumbled against his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Do you still have any of that hot chocolate mix I gave you?" A small laugh rumbled in his chest as he responded.

"Yeah. You want some?" You lifted your head up to smile sweetly and nod your head.

"Yes, please!" John shook his head with a smile and placed a quick kiss to your temple before extracting himself from your embrace. You booed when he slid his boxers back on, earning another grin, this time accompanied by a wink before he headed off into the kitchen. Amongst the quiet, you finally registered the sounds of the rain still hammering against the building, the constant drumming a soothing backdrop to the cozy situation you found yourself in. You stood and slid back into your panties before moving to stand in front of the window. You also grabbed one of the blankets to protect against the chill that pervaded the air around the glass. Looking out, you could barely make out the disturbances the rain made to the surface of the water through the darkness, and yet you still found yourself mesmerized by the beauty of the view. You were drawn out of your reverie when John's voice sounded out behind you. "So, tell me about work. Is that woman causing problems again? What's her name, Kar-" He said as he entered the room. When his voice cut off you looked over your shoulder to find him staring at you with wonder in his eyes. You quickly looked out the window to see what he was staring at but couldn't spot anything particularly special.

"What are you looking at?" You asked, turning back right as he walked over to you. He didn't respond; instead, his hands found their way inside your blanket to grab your hips and push you back against the window. Mild panic set in before he finally spoke up. "John?"

"You're so beautiful." He said, dropping his head to kiss along your neck. You huffed in disbelief and reached up to push against his shoulders.

"You're crazy," Your pressing did little to dissuade him from his task, and you couldn't help but smile as he continued to mutter praises into your skin. "John," You chuckled as he continued to nuzzle into your neck. "Stop it, you're fogging up the glass," Your protests were growing half-hearted though, as his hands began to wander, and his lips trailed softly over your skin.

"And?" He questioned, pulling you back enough that your blanket fell to the floor before moving back forward so you were pressed against the icy cold glass. You yelped at the shock the temperature difference gave your system, trying to shove him back and pull him closer for warmth at the same time, both to no avail.

"I was enjoying the view," You said, breathlessly in a last-ditch attempt to persuade him. He pulled back to look you in the eyes before he responded.

"I've got a much better one right in front of me." His lips found yours and you melted against him. The kiss bordered on desperate, almost as if he was afraid you'd disappear. His hands left a trail of goosebumps behind as the heat of his skin emphasized the chill in the air, sliding up your arms and down your back before moving to play with the skin just beneath your waistband. A whine left you as he dipped his fingers inside to tease at your lips, sliding around and deftly avoiding everywhere you wanted him. Just as you were about to pull back and tell him to stop teasing, he thrust two fingers deep inside you, drawing a surprised gasp from you. "So wet for me," He mumbled against your lips as he began to thrust his fingers inside you. Each pass brushed up against your g spot until you were practically seeing stars and begging him for more. Suddenly, his fingers were gone, and you opened your eyes to find him licking your juices off of them. You let out a desperate whine.

"John, please, please fuck me." You said, reaching out to palm him through his boxers. His hand grabbed your wrist before you could touch him, though, and he spun you around. 

"As the lady wishes." He leaned in and said against your ear. He reached down and pulled himself free from his boxers. John didn't bother to remove your own underwear, instead just sliding them to the side before slowly working his length inside you. You groaned in relief as he began to thrust slowly, pulling out and pushing back in to make sure you were ready. His cock dragged perfectly against every sensitive spot you had, sending pleasure shooting through your body and making your toes curl. Seeming satisfied with your preparedness he began to pick up his pace, hitting deeper inside you with every push. You yelped as his fingers found your nipples, tweaking and pulling on the sensitive buds as you moaned out his name. A hand left your skin and reached up to swipe across the glass, revealing your reflection. "Look. Do you see how fucking gorgeous you are? So beautiful, and mine." He nipped at the skin beneath your ear as his hand moved down your front to rub harsh circles on your clit. You threw your head back against his shoulder, eyes falling shut at the added sensation, but a sharp bite made them shoot open again. "Eyes open, baby girl. I want you to watch as I make you fall apart around me." Your eyes found his in the reflection, and you moaned at the way his pupils were blown wide with lust.

"Please, John, I need more-" You gasped deeply as his thrusts began to pick up speed, knocking you up onto your toes and forcing you to throw your hands up against the glass for support. Your reflection revealed how utterly wrecked you were, and the sight sent you flying over the edge with a scream of John's name. He buried his face in your neck as he continued to thrust, chasing his own release and prolonging yours as you gasped and sputtered, unable to form words thanks to the electric waves of pleasure flowing through you. Just when you thought you couldn't handle anymore, John's thrusts faltered, and he came with a deep groan. He rested his forehead on your shoulder as he waited for his breathing to return to normal, mumbling 'I love you's and pressing kisses into your heated skin. Out of nowhere tears began to flow down your cheeks, a quiet sob escaping you. John immediately noticed, and carefully pulled out of you before turning you around to run his hands over you in concern.

"(Y/n), what's wrong? I didn't hurt you, did I? I'm so sorry, sweetheart-" The panic in his voice made the tears come harder, and you struggled to voice what was happening.

"No, you didn't hurt me-" You hiccupped. "I just- don't deserve you." Confusion crossed his face as he processed what you were telling him.

"What? You-" He seemed to come to a decision, and he went and grabbed his phone, quickly pulling up the dial pad. "Here. Call your work and tell them you're taking the rest of the week off. If they ask why then tell them police business."

"What? John, I can't just-" 

"You've got tons of time off saved up, right?" He cut you off, still holding the phone out.

"Well yes, but-"

"Then, by law, they can't stop you from taking it." You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control your breathing and stop the tears.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked, finally looking up at him.

"Because I want to spend the next 5 days showing you just how amazing you are." He said, so confident, so resolute, that you found yourself reaching out to grab the phone. 

[antiquechampagne]

Antique Champagne - CH47 - Heading Home

Payne zipped up the Vault suit before throwing her hastily packed backpack over her shoulder. Time was short and changing would have taken too long. She’d square it with Nate later if it became an issue. She hated to admit it, but it was easier to strap armor over a Vault suit than a pair of jeans.

“Ready?” she asked, her sidearm already in her hand.

“Just gotta grab my shotgun.” Hancock picked it up off the nightstand, resting it casually on his shoulder. “Not exactly the way I thought the night would end, though.”

“Guess we’re going to have to have a rain check, then.” Payne replied.

They met the rest by the elevator, except for Strong. He took the lift and waited for them on the ground floor, his bulk a bit too much to fit with everyone sandwiched inside.

“We’re going to play this as quietly as we can,” Nate explained. “There are probably a couple dozen psychopaths right around the corner, ready to carve up anyone they catch into pieces. Once we get you past them, it’ll be easier to reach the Transit Center with the protection of the Operators and Pack close by.”

The park was eerily quiet as they stepped out of the Fizztop lobby, punctuated by distant bursts of gunfire. The group skulked slowly over the cracked concrete, watching each other’s backs. They made it halfway past the small courtyard when Nate’s head snapped up.

“INCOMING!” he shouted.

Everyone scrambled for cover as a frag grenade arched towards them, exploding as it hit the ground. The blast still ringing in her skull, Payne frantically scanned the area around the small smoking crater, somewhat safe behind a couple of garbage cans. She could not see anyone.

“Shit,” she cursed to herself, ignoring the several small cuts on her face.

“Strong mad!” The agitated super mutant was a few steps away from her, his huge frame barely covered by an upturned deli cart. He clutched his super sledge, ready to spring on anything that moved.

“John?!” Payne cried, her ears ringing.

A shotgun blast answered her question. Hancock was a few yards away across the courtyard, aiming at something roughly behind where her and Strong were huddled. Nate and Gage ducking behind some concrete barriers close by. Unfortunately for Payne, her end of the courtyard had less debris… and it was much closer to the huge metal doors marking the entrance to the Disciples den. Even though several more raiders fell to Nate and Gage’s careful aim, she still felt vulnerable and exposed.

A metal clad head suddenly appeared above the cart Strong crouched behind. The raider, blade ready in one hand, grenade in the other, had his attention zeroed in on the Overboss and nothing else. Before getting a chance to use either weapon, Strong stood up, swiftly planting his sledge squarely between the raider’s eyes. His head splattered like a grape wrapped in aluminum foil. Unfortunately, that also meant he lost his grip on his explosive.

The only place to retreat to was closer to the lion’s den, but with no time to consider anything else, Payne ran towards the doors. She wasn’t even sure if Strong had tried to run, the force of the blast ended up throwing him like a ragdoll, straight into her. He slammed into her, sandwiching her body between his and cold metal of the tower. Standing up and stepping away from the wall, he released Payne from her temporary green fleshy prison. It appeared that, though battered and bleeding, he was still up to fight.

“Payne!” John shouted.

Payne motioned that she was okay, but it did little to change the look of dread on his face. At least she was able to hear him this time. She was much closer to the doors than she would have liked, nearly on top of them. All a raider had to do was to poke their head out to and look to the side to see a couple of extremely easy targets. Running across the open courtyard back to their friends wasn’t a promising tactic either, leaving them wide open to a hail of bullets that would quickly cut them down. The only thing to do was to go on the offensive… and Payne only knew one way that had any prayer of being successful. She slipped her backpack off, thumped Strong’s tree trunk of an arm and told him her plan.

Hancock could only watch in horror as his stomach dropped. He was sure the second explosion must have reduced Payne to a fine red mist. His delight in seeing her emerge from behind Strong quickly turned to confusion when, after pulling the super mutant aside, Hancock watched his green shoulders shrug…

Hancock gulped. “What is she doing?” Payne caught his glance before quickly turning away, her face a mix of tension and apology. Hancock’s uncertainty turned to panic.

“PAYNE!” Standing up, he tried to set off, to reach her before she did something stupid, but he was violently pulled back down.

“Where the fuck do you think you are going?” Nate hissed glancing frantically around to see if any Disciples were ready to take an easy head shot.

Before Hancock could answer, the large door started to open, several gun barrels poking out. Hancock watched helplessly as Payne bit into Strong’s outstretched arm. The raiders might have been ready for a siege, but they were not ready for a super mutant stepping up to pull the door open… wide enough for a wild-eyed Payne to slip inside.

“NO!” Hancock screamed. This time he was faster than Nate’s grip to hold him back. He ran so fast that by the time he reached Strong, he had white sparks twirling at the edge of his vision. Quickly catching his breath, the cries from inside reached his ears. He barely noticed Nate and Gage pounding the pavement behind him.

Strong stood quietly, steadfastly holding the doors shut but even with his impressive strength, he was starting to struggle. Hancock quickly joined him.

“Strong promised.” He looked down at the ghoul. “Strong hold door shut.”

Hancock nodded, his stomach souring. “Got it, big guy.”

Nate and Gage stood too shocked to argue. They could hear rounds of gunfire and horrific screams coming from inside. Blood began seeping underneath the door. It was only when the pounding on the metal doors started to leave noticeable dents did they realize a sizable mob was trying desperately to escape their metal prison. The four of them managed to keep the door shut, only relaxing when they could hear nothing but silence from the other side. One by one, they stepped away.

Strong seemed unconcerned, but Nate and Gage glared at Hancock. They waited for some kind of an explanation.

“You gunna let us in on what just happened here?” Gage demanded.

“Uh,” Hancock cleared this throat, trying to formulate a plan. “I think I should go in first. Check around and make sure it’s safe. I’ll let you know when it’s okay to come in.”

“Safe?” Gage bawled. “Safe from what?”

The question was met by silence. Hancock just turned and opened the door, steeling himself. Stepping through put every nerve he had on edge. He made sure to close the door behind him.

The concrete floor was slick with blood and peppered with chunks of torn flesh, pieces bodies were strewn about everywhere. He strained his ears as he picked his way carefully though the gore, trying to figure out where Payne might be. Was she hunting him? His confidence in his ability to calm her down waned with each step. He had never seen her with that much mutant blood in her system. How many people had been waiting in here to ambush them?

He readied his shotgun.

As he neared the base of some giant concrete structure, a head landed with a meaty thud next to him. Looking up, he had a good idea where to head next. The industrial sized ramp that lead to the top felt like a water side, his boots slipping in the mess.

“Payne?” He called. He wasn’t really sure he wanted her to answer. “It’s me. I’m coming up.” As he reached the top, shadows danced erratically from the handful of burning barrels the raiders had used for both light and cooking. He could just see a moving form over the back of a couch opposite him. As he inched closer, he could barely make out the golden 111 under the thick coating of red.

“Hey… Payne?” he asked again, this time barely a whisper, afraid of startling her. She instantly faced him, her whole being focused, zeroed in on him. His eyes didn’t even register her movement, but… at least she wasn’t moving towards him. Good, he thought. He lowered his weapon, slightly.

“You, uh, done with that late-night snack?” She did not move a muscle, her eyes as crimson as the blood that dripped from her face. Small talk might not be the way to go, but Hancock had very little else to work with. “Nate is waiting for us outside. We have to get going, remember?” He wasn’t sure he was getting through to her.

He was sure he didn’t want to hear what he heard next; his name being shouted out from below. Nate hadn’t listen to him. Payne cocked her head.

“Payne, come on now, look at me…” He stepped into her line of sight and she refocused on him. “Not a good time, boy scout!” he called over his shoulder. He had to think fast. He had to keep Payne distracted, to bring her back to herself without hurting anyone else. If anyone else poked their head up here now, they were as sure as dead.

He took a step forward, closing the distance. He had a better view of the mutilated corpse she crouched over, its fluids seeping into the sodden couch. Payne glanced past him, detecting something he could not.

“Hey, Payne, we don’t have much time here.” He wasn’t keeping her attention anymore. That was bad.

Instinctively, Hancock reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. He hoped his touch would help ground her in some way. In the very least, she should focus on him, give Nate and the others some more time. Payne turned, looked at him and uttered a guttural hiss.

Well, at least that’s something, Hancock thought to himself. She hasn’t ripped my hand off yet.

“Listen to me, I know you’re having fun, but I need to get you to come down a bit.” He flinched. It sounded like someone kicked something large and metal below. He wasn’t sure if what he was trying was working. Slowly, he slipped a Med-X syringe out of his coat pocket, insurance in case things went south fast. “Please, Payne, show me some sign you can hear me. I can’t have you hurting our friends.”

That seemed to get the cogs turning. The corners of her eyes wrinkled. Slowly, her glare turned into more of a lost stare.

“That’s it… come back to me, Payne. I know you can do it.”

The clouds muddying her eyes started to clear, though it was painfully slow. Her shoulders slumped slightly. She still could not manage words, but she began to look around, attempting to gain her bearing, confused.

“It’s going to be okay. Just come with me. Let’s get you outside. Away from all this.”

Hancock wasn’t sure if she recognized him or not, but she trusted him enough to let him guide her off the couch. Together, they sluggishly made their wait down the sticky ramp, Hancock coaching her every few steps. He was confident her bloodlust was fading, but with each inch they gained, her strength faded. Halfway down Payne began to lean heavily on Hancock’s and the handrail to keep upright. She staggered like a lost drunk after an all night bender.

He let out a sigh of relief when she finally looked up at him, barely managing to utter his name. She was confused and weak, but she was back on solid ground.

“Welcome back,” he whispered, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, steading her.

Catching sigh of the pair, Nate and Gage ran up to meet them.

“What the hell happened in here? Is Payne alright?” Nate demanded.

Payne’s legs began to give. Hancock did the best he could to keep her on her feet, but he nearly fell over with her.

“She’s fine, she just needs some air.” Hancock brushed Nate off and ignored Gage’s unconvinced grunt. He was thankful that they let him wrangle Payne outside before she collapsed, letting him set her down on a bench by the reflecting pool before they began asking more questions. Neither moved to help him carry her the rest of the way, though.

Gage spoke first. “Once again, the Boss asked you a question. What when down in here?”

“It looks to me that Payne went in and saved you guys a lot of fuss, to be honest.” Hancock answered, wiping his hands on his edge of his coat.

“How?” Nate stated. It was more of a challenge than question. “There is no way a single person by themselves is taking out dozens of heavily armed raiders like that.”

Hancock didn’t answer.

“How.” He demanded again.

Hancock slowly tugged on the brim of his hat. “It’s not my place to tell.” Before either of the other men could get a word in, Hancock cut them off. “I’m not saying any more. Payne killed everything breathing in there, saving you a pile of ammo and manpower. When she wakes up, you should thank her.”

“I don’t care how many chems you shoot up, ain’t no chem in existence that can make a single man do that!” Gage fumed. “What the fuck?”

Nate rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Strong said she took a bite out of him before flying off. Why?”

Hancock quipped back. “Did she ask nicely first?”

That threw Nate off a bit. He paused and looked at Strong. He nodded. “I guess yes, then...”

“Then whatever went on between the two of them was consensual. Didn’t your momma ever tell you you shouldn’t pry.”

Nate bristled. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, John. That’s not what this is about, and you know it!”

“Sorry, brother, but that’s all I’m saying. I’m not spilling anyone else’s secrets.”

Hancock dug a frayed handkerchief out from a pocket. “If you don’t mind, Payne could use someone to look after her. She’s had a rough night.” He left them grumbling and shaking their heads. Returning to her side, he gently started to clean the grime off Payne’s face before picking various chunks out of her hair. He could hear the men feverishly discussing them behind his back.

After a few minutes, Nate walked over.

“As soon as she can move, I want you both out of the park. It’s not safe here.” Hancock didn’t look up. “I’ll send a few guys over to make sure no wandering Disciples bother you. We,” he motioned to himself, Gage and Strong. “Can’t stay here. I need to make sure the rest of the park is secure.” He paused. The tone of his voice tempered just a tad. “It’s for everyone’s safety. I hope you understand.”

“Okey-doke, Boss.” Hancock tried not to sound flippant. He was pretty sure he failed.

It took Payne a few hours before she could hold a coherent conversation. After filling her in about the blanks in her recollection, Hancock convinced her to wash off in the pool before changing into her own dry clothes. After that, they limped to the monorail, a trio of pinstripe clad raiders nervously following them.

The trek back to Goodneighbor was arduously slow. Payne needed multiple breaks along the way to rest, her body drained of nearly all its energy. They ended up making camp downtown the next night in the lobby of an abandoned hotel, Hancock barricading the doors against any unwanted surprises.

As they silently ate what few things they had scavenged, Payne gloomily staring into the small fire.

“I didn’t even get a chance to apologize to Nate,” she eventually sighed, obviously disappointed in herself.

Hancock did his best to console her. “He’ll realize you did him a favor and get over it. Trust me. Plus, you’ll feel better once we get home.”

She looked up at him with her sad brown eyes. “I hope you’re right.”

“’Course I’m right. Now let’s get some rest.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She melted into his side, hugging him tightly back.

“Sorry. I put you in an impossible position, but it was the only thing I could think of… we were sitting ducks. There were so many of them…”

“Hey, stop that. The bad guys died, and the good ones didn’t. That’s the best anyone could have hoped for.”

She swallowed hard. She seemed on the edge of tears. “Thanks, John. I owe you one.”

“I’ll hold you too that.” He kissed her forehead before they both settled down for the night.