#like I’m trying to heal my body…so that I can sit behind a desk and work for minimum wage

[archiebaldo1414]

What is with the whole “no one wants to work anymore”

Like the same people who say that talk about not liking their job and how they…don’t want to work

[chlorinecake]

— YOU'RE RIGHT, BABY | 𝐂.𝐁𝐂

▹ PAIRING: soft!dom fiancé bangchan x f. reader

▹ SYNOPSIS: Chan gets a little upset upon realizing that you weren’t wearing your engagement ring, but you make it up to him by letting him fuck you in his studio after a long day of work…

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, kissing, teasing, dry humping and heavy petting, mentions of food, breeding kink + cream pie (chan’s a possessive freak and in love with the idea of getting you preggers lol), dirty talk, light breath play (f. receiving), pet names (good girl, baby), that’s about it

▹ WORD COUNT: 1.8k — DAY 2

BEING THE AMAZING partner you are, you decided to stop by the studio where your fiancé was working and bring him some dinner, and by dinner, I mean a box full of his favorite takeout foods:

Grilled beef, steamed rice, broccoli teriyaki, and a chicken egg roll…

He was working a few hours overtime that day, and aside from the fact that you wanted him to have something good to eat after expending such efforts, you really just missed his presence…

You missed looking at his gorgeous face and hearing his adorable voice while he did absolutely nothing but vibe with you… you missed having his hands on you and your hands on him as you both got lost in the lusts of your own hearts—

“Chris,” your voice came out gently as you stood behind him, caressing over his tense shoulders while he remained seated in his desk chair, “just rest your little head, baby… you worry too much…”

“I do… you’re right…” he sighs deeply while leaning his head back against the headrest to look at you, the smell of takeout distant in the room.

His eyes are clearly tired as you know he’s been overworked lately, but you hold yourself from bringing it up to him, placing a gentle kiss to the center of his forehead instead.

“Thanks for stopping by, though, princess,” he went on, and you already feel like he’s trying to push you away, despite how you literally just got here, “I have to get back to work now, though—”

“You’re always getting back to work, Channie…” you chuckle slightly, and his eyes flutter shut as your thumbs come across a particularly tight muscle in his left shoulder…

Digging in, you massage the knot gently, but the pressure you apply doesn’t feel so soothing at first—

“Ouch, that hurts!” Chan exclaims with a wince, and you simply smooth over his skin with your touch, massaging a different area instead as you decided to give that spot time to heal on its own.

“Look… your body’s aching as if you’ve been working in a field all day… that’s why I’m here to make you feel better,” you return, and his body is clearly starting to relax the more and more your fingers smooth along the base of his neck and back down his shoulders again, soft hums coming from his throat at the sensation.

“But you don’t have to, love…” he says, voice a little weak as the warmth of your touch reeled him into relaxation, “just having you around is making me feel better already…”

“Aww,” you pout facetiously, even though he can’t see it from where he’s sitting, “You missed me, Channie?… Your very own nagging fiancé?…”

“Nooo,” he corrects, turning in his chair now to get a proper look at you, “I missed my beautiful wife to be, and my adoring partner in crime…”

Reaching out a hand, the veins in his arm appear highlighted under the dim studio lighting as he guides your face into his before giving you a kiss that you both smile into… weakly though, considering how it’s literally 4 in the morning...

Breaking from the contact, you tug at his wrist slightly, not letting go until he finally gets up from the chair, letting you lead him to sit on the couch.

The look on his face now very clearly lets you know what’s on his mind, but you simply decide to sit on his lap in a straddle position, wanting him to make the first move from here…

And he did.

“Can I?” He asks while lifting his hands from the couch cushion, hovering them over your hips and being careful not to touch until you allowed him to.

“Of course, silly,” you chuckle, making him blush slightly at your brief fit of laughter.

“It’s not like anyone’s here to tease us for it,” you went on, thinking back to the countless times that your fiancé’s friends (specifically Minho and Han) would outwardly gag whenever you two publicly display affection—

“You’re right, baby… no one’s around to bother us,” Chris breathes in agreement, finally letting his eager hands rest at your hips before adding a bit of pressure as he caressed up your waist and along your thighs, “The two of us could practically get away with doing anything we want for the next few hours in here…”

You didn't even have to ask to know what he was specifically implying, but you decide to play dumb anyway, just because you absolutely loved hearing his strong Aussie accent come out whenever he was sexually worked up with you…

“Takeout’s still waiting to be opened, Chris,” you whisper, letting your nails gently drag against his scalp as he melts into your touch, his silky curls looping around your fingers, “we shouldn’t keep it out for too long or else it might spoil…”

“Well I’m not in the mood to eat anymore,” he whispers back in a raspy voice, and you let your weight sink further into his lap, your bottom resting right above the spot his true hunger was pulling him most.

“Use your words, baby… tell me what you want,” You press, leaving a kiss along his clenched jawline… and another one on his pretty thick lips… and a third one against his Adam’s Apple that makes him groan out loud…

Or maybe his groan had more to do with the way you were also rocking your hips against his clothed hard on, making his hands slightly grip at the fabric of your jeans for any sort of leverage.

“Why… of all the bottoms that you own, did you close to wear tight, denim jeans at a time like this?” He asks with frustration, making you giggle a bit at the way his chest rises and falls every time you circle in his lap, the rough material tantalizing him…

“Don’t you think they make my ass look good, though?” You tease with a pout, watching as he smirks at your question, only to hiss at your movements again.

“They make your ass look great, babe… but they also make it impossible for me to touch you properly…”

He was doing it again, you thought to yourself… That thing where he gets you to do what he wants without specifically asking.

Yes, Chris was a typically a pretty confident guy, but sometimes, you had a way of bringing out his shy, reluctant side when it came to sexual things, but you still found it cute nonetheless.

“Fine, then… since you’re too shy to ask for it properly, I’ll just do it myself,” you say in a bratty tone while getting up from his lap, and he visibly scoffs at the way you stood before him now, fingers meddling with the buckle of your jeans until he stopped you.

“C’mere,” he huffs, pulling you close to him by the belt loop of your jeans until you fall into the couch beside him with a gentle plop.

His smirks again once he finally unzips the rough fabric just enough to see a leak of what’s beneath, and the expression is so wide that his dimples come through…

At first, you’re not sure why he’s a grinning mess, but you understand once his fingers run over the lace of your black panties, the same pair that he brought you a while back on one of his tours cross-country.

“I’ll take a wild guess and say you wore these for me, huh?” He asks with a husk to his tone now that you’re bumping your knee against his clothed hard-on, and his hips subconsciously chase the friction.

“Mhm,” you hum softly, lifting up on your elbows now to look at him better, “I just didn’t expect you to take so long to get ‘em off me…”

“How cute,” he returns, and your eyes follow the veins trailing his forearm, his flexed fingers hooking at either side of your hips before tugging your jeans the rest of the way down and past your ankles with your panties, tucking them under the couch cushion for his private use later…

“Cute?” You repeat with a raised brow, spreading your legs before him as you both watched each others cores intently, practically itching within yourself for him to finally untie his sweatpants.

“Yup. Love it when you get in your little attitudes,” he says plainly, but his smile is half-hearted now as he leans over you, bracing himself with his hands before kissing your forehead.

You try to follow where his eyes are looking, but his bangs are in the way, and you can’t help but ask him what the matter is…

However, he doesn’t answer immediately, simply taking your hands in his and placing a kiss to l the closed knuckles of your left hand, right before pinning your wrist at either side of your head on the couch.

And that’s when it hits you… the reason behind his sudden change in aura:

You forgot to put your engagement ring on…

You had only taken it off for a second before coming to meet him in the studio because some oil from the takeout bag had spilled on your hands… while washing up in the bathroom, you had put the ring in your purse and simply forgot to put it back on…

Though, you knew at this point it’d be worthless trying to get that story through Chan’s thick skull, as he had already made up in his mind that you were playing games with him…

“Where’s your ring, baby?” Your fiancé asks while shimmying down his boxers and trousers with one hand, and you near choke on air at the sight of his glossy and girthy tip springing out before you, red and angry with need.

“I-it’s in my purse,” you stammer, almost feeling guilty now that you had even forgot to put it back on in the first place, “I can go and get it—”

“No need,” he interrupts you, lining himself up with your entrance as the depth of his voice equally catches you off guard, “just make sure you put it back on after this, yea?”

You winced at the sudden stretch of his cock filling you up just right, and your hips are already trembling at the delicious fullness.

“Channie… it slipped my mind, baby… please,” you say, and you’re not quite sure what it is that you’re begging for, but you always had a habit of going dumb around his cock, even if it’s just resting inside you.

“I gave you a simple order, love… now, do you understand me, yes or no?” He asks more sternly this time, thrusting into you with a sharp hit of his hips, and you internally cringe at yourself for hiccuping at the force.

“Y-yes, I understand,” is all you manage to say as he continues slamming his hips into you at a painfully slow pace, looking you dead in the eye as you crumble beneath his intense gaze.

“Say it again,” he orders, and you listen, gripping at his biceps and biting your lip as an attempt to keep your moans in, but the little whimpers and whines end up spilling out anyway.

You can feel Chan's cock twitch inside you every time you say yes for him, especially with the way your walls are throbbing around his length as he groans the words “good girl” in the midst of it all.

“So so good for me,” he continues, grinding his hips in a way that makes his pelvis graze your clit rythmically, and you’re sure you’re seeing stars once his hand finds your neck, just resting it there to get your attention.

“Good enough to let me cum in you, huh?” He questions, but it’s more so of a suggestion than anything, and you oblige to it, nodding your head in desperation as your hips start to follow the movements of his.

“Yes, baby… w-want you to fill me up so bad,” you whimper, and he lets a groan out right after you… one that makes your stomach flutter with emotions given how beautiful it sounded.

“Gonna put a baby in your pretty little stomach,” he huffs in between fucking you open with all his strength, “and at that point, who cares if you don’t have your ring on? Everyone will know who you belong to once your tummy’s all swollen because of me… tell me who this pussy belongs to…”

“Y-you, Channie,” you blabber out pathetically, your own mouth filling with saliva at how amazing he’s making you feel right now.

“Louder…”

“It’s all- fuckkk… yours, b-baby,” you cry out, and it’s a weak cry at that given the way his hand is tightening around your throat, but you don’t mind… not one bit when it feels THIS. Fucking. Good…

He finally lets his lips find yours in a needy kiss, and a string of spit keeps y’all together as he break away to let out a moan of his own, but you’re pulling him back into you, wanting him to be as close as possible to you in this moment.

The couch starts to creak to the rhythm of his movements, and you couldn’t be more thankful for the large cushions it was made with, otherwise you’re certain the both of you would’ve been on the floor at this point.

“Feels so fucking good inside you, baby… sooo fucking good,” he grunts, and you know he’s almost close just from the way his eyebrows are screwing into adorable little crinkles, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier by the second.

“F-fuck~” you mewl against his lips, feeling the knot in your own stomach tighten as his cock hit mesmerizing places inside you.

He keeps his hand snug around your neck while looking into your eyes, and his hips can’t bare to piston into your cunt any longer once your walls clench around him, making him feel dizzy in the head.

“Cum in me,” you plead with a soft voice while, lips puffy from how hard you’d been biting them, and Chan finally lets himself go, barely getting any extra thrusts in before painting your walls with his hot release, groaning shamelessly like a porn star.

“Oh my God,” he grunts with a strained voice, using his last bit of strength to prevent himself from collapsing on top of you given how spent he is now.

“Wait, Channie,” you say, thighs still trembling a bit as he pulled out of you, a bit too early though for you to remind him that his cum would only spill out—

“Shit,” he swears under his breath upon realizing, rushing to catch the fluid spilling from your cunt now with his fingers, trying not to get it on the couch, but to no avail.

He instead lets his fingers push the cum back into you, holding his wrist there until he’s able to reach for a napkin off of his desk to help clean you up.

“Stop that, baby,” he says with a mischievous smile, but only because your walls were sucking his digits in, preventing him from taking them out to clean them off, “give me some time to recharge and then we can go again, okay?…”

All you can bring yourself to do is hum at his words, and he in turn offers you another gentle smile.

Applying light pressure to your lower stomach, he finally gets your walls to release his fingers from the confines of your sloppy hole, wiping the residue off with the napkin.

“Didn’t expect you to cum this much,” you say in a sleepy tone while reaching for your jeans to slide them back on.

“Me neither,” he chuckles, readjusting his pants before getting up to toss the soiled napkin in the bin nearby, “but uh... just know that if in three weeks, we find out that our first future child was conceived on this couch, never tell this story to anyone…”

⋆♱✮ Huge thanks to everyone who made it to the end of this fic, concluding DAY 2 of my Kinktober Event !! This was also my first time publishing any written work for Stray Kids (my ult group XD) so feel free to tell me how I did in the comments !! Finally, if you're interested in reading more works like this, check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist here by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408

also, check out THIS fic NEXT if you're interested in more...

[ornii]

Hi I requested the irish heimdall one a while back if ya are still accepting requests would ya be open to doing one where he's high on really strong painkillers after an accident and Wednesday is trying to help him but his foresight is active subconsciously and he's dodging her until she kisses him and when she grabs his jaw to kiss him it makes him whine and she uses that as something to tease him about after

A God In Need?

it is Seldom that a God would be asking for help, but some things simply cannot be done alone. After an incident in Biology class that left (Y/n) with a torn muscle and a few cuts on the body. He can think his girlfriend for the incident as an argument between the two left a scathing message. Sitting in his room, (Y/n) poured a tall glass of water with his one good arm, the other in a sleeve and a bandaged up abdomen. He struggles to open up a pill bottle and fumbled it, reluctantly pouring a few in his hand he swallows it chases it with water. There is a knock on their door. (Y/n) hobbles over to it, and opens the door.

Waiting for him was his girlfriend, Wednesday Addams, she had a small black doctors bag in her hand. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not dead yet, you can’t perform an autopsy.” He said.

“Silence, I came to reapply your gauze.” She says.

“Really? No kiss on the cheek for me? No, “Hello (Y/n).” Just storm into my room?” He scoffs, Wednesday calmly leans in and gives a peck on his cheek.

“Hello (Y/n), now move.” She was a force to be reckoned with, and (Y/n) was in no position to fight. He side steps and she strolls into the room, closing the door behind him (Y/n) follows.

“So the doctor’s allowed you to work on me?”

“No.” Wednesday replied.

“No?”

“No. I’m doing this of my own volition.” She explains. And places the bag down upon a desk and begins to rummage through it. Pulling out tape and a few pieces of medical supplies she turns to (Y/n).

“Strip.” She orders, (Y/n) reluctantly sighs and attempts to struggle to remove his shirt. Wednesday watches him fumble around it.

“You are truly helpless.” Wednesday grabs his shirt and lifts it up, her eyes trail down his abdomen and for a moment in her life she was actually a bit flustered. She shakes it off and helps him remove his shirt. Her eyes look him up and down and hesitates.

“Beautiful figure, like a god I know.” He said smugly, Wednesday pulls off the bandage wrap with a quick tug, (Y/n) bites his lip not to yelp. She begins to unwrap. The bloodstained bandages fall on the floor as Wednesday sees the scars along his chest.

“Your wounds are healing faster than I expected. In a week I can finally stop listening to your incessant whining.” She applies fresh bandages as (Y/n)’s medicine begins to kick in. As she reaches to remove his arm sleeve he instinctively steps back. She hesitates for a moment, she looks into his purple eyes to see the lack of clarity within them, hazy.

“And how many did you take?”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about…” he stammers out. “Your medication, you took to many, didn’t you?”

“Of course not, I don’t need any help counting.” He retorts, trying to shake off the lack of response time from his body to his brain, as if traffic is being blocked off there. Wednesday just dragged him to a chair to sit him down and looked him in the eye.

“Dilated pupils, Slow response time, cold clammy skin..” she thinks and he checks off the list.

“(Y/n), I need you to focus.” She reaches into her bag to retrieve an alcohol swab and a needle.

“You know… you’d make a pretty hot doctor, or a nurse.” (Y/n) admits, Wednesday continues to prepare as he looks around the room, his brain slowly moving forward. “You could be like, “Oh (Y/n), it’s time for your bath?”

“I wouldn’t debase myself for someone’s sexual pleasure.” She said sternly. (Y/n) scoffs, leaning back. “ar ndóigh ní” he mutters angry.

“What was that.” She responds.

“I said.. of course not, because it’s all about you, isn’t it? Hey (Y/n), help me track down a killer, Hey (Y/n), help me figure out where Crackstone is by lying and endangering Enid, Hey (Y/n), almost get yourself killed trying to protect me.” (Y/n) rants off, in disbelief of his stupidity. Wednesday turned to the boy, who was falling asleep

“Since you’re under the influence of pain and medication I’m going to allow that to slide.” She walks over and reaches to check his face, but his body jerks his head away. She reaches again and he moves again, she attempts to catch his head but his body moves.

“Quit being childish.. stop it.” She orders and grabs his jaw, a muffled whine comes from him. “Owwwws” he drones on until her lips connect with his. Letting go she looks him in the eyes.

“I was selfish back then, and you still took your time to love me. I am forever grateful for that, I apologize for it. So will you stop pussyfooting and let me put your bandages on?” She asks, a laugh comes from him and he sits up, still a little drowsy as she begins to wrap his body. She has to get close to his chest to do so, his good arm gently caresses the top of her head.

“You know, Tyr would love to meet you.. and Baldur and Thor.”

“You mean literal gods?” She said. (Y/n) nods, “All Father would be blessed to meet you.”

“So you intent to take me to a realm of gods?” She asks, looking up at him.

“It’s a place where you belong.” He replies, Ladykiller wasn’t a skill that was taught at Asguard, that was all skill. Wednesday gave a soft nod.

“Fine. As long as you don’t whine like that in front of them.” She replied in cheek and goes back to wrapping his wounds

“In front of my lady? Never.” He gives her a soft hug with his one arm, Wednesday halted her wrapping to feel his warmth against her, and returned the favor with her own hug. A God Asking for help was rare, but a god finding true love, one in a million.

[lostloveletters]

Sweetheart Grip (John Egan x OC)

Summary: Day 21 - Gun Play. Bucky remembers hearing somewhere that a girl is a gun. [AO3 link | Kinktober 2024 Masterlist]

Note: This is probably trashy and in poor taste but whatever! Visual reference for what a sweetheart grip is can be found here.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Inevitable historical and technical inaccuracies, obviously unsafe handling of a gun. Sexually explicit content involving elements of gunplay.

Holly’s eyebrows furrowed when she looked down the long, unfamiliar hallway. Still, at a quarter after seven, she walked until she got to the third door on the left, as she was asked to do earlier that day. Filled with boxes and miscellaneous supplies, all covered in a thin coat of dust, it was almost like everyone had forgotten about that back office, though the lights turned on when she flipped the switch. She wondered how Bucky even knew about it, considering he hadn’t even worked as an Air Exec for all that long.

No evidence of him around, but she’d wait. Sometimes he ran a little late to their rendezvous, so she made herself comfortable on top of the desk in the corner of the room, her legs swinging back and forth above the scuffed floor until she heard footsteps approaching.

Bucky smiled when he saw her, closing the door behind him. “No one saw you, right?”

“I don’t think so.” The lock clicked. “Sounds like you wanna get us in trouble.”

“I’m trying to keep us out of trouble.”

She hopped down from the desk, a bit hesitant as she walked over to him. “You’ve been acting kind of cagey lately. You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know that, doll. I’m just not great at surprises, and I didn’t wanna ruin it before it was ready.”

The corners of her lips turned up slightly. “What surprise?”

He stuck his hand in his jacket pocket, making his way over to the desk she’d been sitting on. She eagerly followed, startled to see a gun on top of the worn wood grain until she took a closer look at the grip.

“Oh my god, that’s me!”

He grinned. “Who else?”

“How’d you do this? With the photo and everything?”

“Wasn’t that hard to get Woody on board. She did one hell of a job,” he said.

She took his face in her hand, standing on her toes to kiss him. “It’s so… sexy,” she confessed, her cheeks flushed pink. “Makes me feel like I’m the girl in one of those gangster pictures or something.” Her hand hovered just above the grip. “Can I?”

“It’s not loaded, but be careful.”

“How do I hold this thing like I know what I’m doing?” 

He shrugged his jacket off and came up behind her, positioning her arms before placing his hands over hers. “Always treat it like it’s loaded, and don’t point it at anyone unless you wanna shoot ‘em.” 

His fingers caressed the middle knuckle on her left hand, where the raised scar was. When he initially bandaged up her hand, he honestly didn’t think she needed stitches. It was too late for that when he unwrapped the gauze to redress the wounds and noticed how oddly the broken skin over her knuckle was healing. She claimed she didn’t mind.

“So you put your finger on the trigger—”

“And then I say, ‘Put the money in the bag and nobody gets hurt.’”

He laughed, the soft rumble of his body, so close to hers, made her eyes flutter shut for a moment. The day when they wouldn’t have to sneak around the way they did couldn’t come soon enough. At the very least, if Chick knew about their relationship, he tolerated it, even if he couldn’t outright condone it. They were better together.

“Alright, Bonnie, then what?” he asked, his lips close to her ear.

“We hide out in a nice hotel somewhere, lay low for a while,” she said softly.

A pleased hum rolled through his chest. “I like the sound of that, you and me in bed for a week.”

She glanced up at him, a slight smile on her lips to find him staring down at her. 

Licking her lips, she looked at the pistol nestled in their hands. “Pull the trigger.”

“What?”

“You said it’s not loaded. I just wanna see.”

He glanced at her, intrigued by her request, even more so by the strange look in her eyes. Bringing his gaze forward, his finger curled to the sound of an empty click. A shiver ran down his spine as she gasped, pressing herself against him.

“Do it again.”

Click.

Her voice was breathy. “Again.”

Click.

“Are you getting off on this?” he asked, his voice hoarser than he was expecting.

She tilted her head back against his chest, shameless in the face of his accusation. “Why, are you?”

He swallowed roughly. Of course she could feel his cock growing hard in his trousers, pressed against her back as closely as he was. Wanted to give some smart response, but found himself unusually flustered by the situation.

“Jesus Christ, Holly.”

It was as if he blinked, and she bent over the desk, her panties and stockings pulled down to her knees, her skirt hiked up over her ass. He placed the gun down next to her, the grip right in her line of sight. Mesmerized, she stared at it, the plexiglass-encased photo of herself smiling back at her. His hands shook as he rushed to free his cock, straining almost painfully against his clothing.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked.

“I think so—”

“You better,” she said, looking at him from over her shoulder through half-hooded lids, her dark brown eyes nearly pinning him in place. “I know you’re not shooting blanks, are you, Major?”

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck—fuck—just hold on—”

He searched frantically through his jacket pockets until he found one and tore open the packaging to slip it on. Something in his brain was short-circuiting, the way she looked at him, spoke to him, he nearly whined when she called to him with a gentle, “Baby?”

She bit hard on her lip when Bucky pushed inside her, frustration crashing over her when she tasted blood. She wanted him to hear how good he was making her feel. But for the time being, she reached back, placing a hand over one of his that was gripping her waist. Her thumb rubbed against his skin gently, and upon looking at the pistol again, she felt overwhelmed by her sweet, sentimental, sensitive Bucky. Something about the way he looked at her, held her, transcended mere affection, actually made her feel like a person again.

“You’re so good to me,” she said, as softly as she could manage, though a moan caught in her throat when she added, “You’re everything.”

Never thought she’d find a man who could make her feel that way again, her heart pounding against her ribcage as if about to burst through so she could present it to him in kind. 

She withdrew her hand from its place on top of his to grip the edge of the desk. So close, so fucking close she could scream. Bucky was never all that good at keeping quiet, even when they had to be, like then, with his face buried in the crook of her neck to muffle the sound of his moans.

“Please,” he whimpered against her skin, “doll, please.”

“I know, baby. I’m almost—fuck—keep going.”

It was the sweetheart grip that pushed her over the edge. She wasn’t sure why she curled her fingers around it, dangerous and intimate, the thrill it sent through her set her off, pleasure tearing through her so violently that she could hardly hold herself up on top of the desk. Her chest lay flush against it when Bucky came, and for a few moments afterward, the room was unnervingly silent save for their heavy breathing.

“Christ,” Bucky groaned as he pulled out.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “Was that—was I too much?”

“If I knew you had that in you, I would’ve gotten this a lot sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t wanna scare you off.”

She smiled, leaning up on her elbows to look at him over her shoulder again. “If you wanna get rid of me, it won’t be that easy, Major.”

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Rewind, Remix, & Replay Jay & Kim 5x16 NSFW

You can read the rest of the series here

There is mature content at the end of this chapter- completely filthy smut actually. My mind completely ran away with it. But here we go, the platonic friends area finally ends. I’m so excited to write for the rest of the season.

The team had only been back in the office for a few minutes when Trudy had shown up. There were a few cuts on her face, and she looked more shaken up than anyone had ever seen her. Kim was already starting to take a step towards her, and inquiry about how she was doing formed on her lips when Trudy spoke, “If one more person asks me if I’m okay, they will not be okay. I just want to help.”

Jay grabbed her forearm redirecting her a few paces back. Kim glanced over at him like she wanted to object but his look quieted her and instead, she leaned against his desk. Jay’s hand was still comfortable but directing weight on her arm just like it had been earlier in the day.

It had happened in a blur. The mailbox explodes. Kim had felt it vibrate through her entire body, leaving lasting tingles in her fingers and toes. The man had been blasted and with such a short distance there was no way that he could have survived it. The female detective’s mind was trying to process what had happened. This was the second bombing on the same day. The first one had nearly killed Trudy. Had she been sitting any closer to it, it would have.

Jay’s form filled Kim’s vision. His warm hand was wrapped around her forearm, his piercing blue gaze looking over her. “Are you okay?” His voice was rough and sharp with emotion. It sounded like irritation, but her mind supplied a different word- fear. Kim had been one of the closer people to the blast, but she hadn’t been hurt. “Kim, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” His grip lingered as he searched her body again for any injury, he may have missed the first time.

Trudy didn’t miss the silent exchange. Nothing could get past her sharp eyes. The older woman may be behind a desk now, but she had been a detective for years. And a damn good one at that. She didn’t miss things. She surely didn’t miss her protégée emerging closeness with Halstead over the last four to six months.

It wasn’t obvious like when Kim had been a green patrolman and started her relationship with Adam Ruzek. It was still innocent in a way. Trudy doubted that they had crossed any real lines yet. Jay Halstead was a step up from the men Kim tended to pick. Jay had his faults to be sure. He had wounds that hadn’t fully healed, even those that had left ugly emotional scars that were callous and abrasive. None of that took away from the man he was. He was a good cop, but it was more than that, he was also a good man.

Trudy glanced over at Kim who was exiting from intelligence. The others had already filtered out. Kim was lingering to make sure that she was okay. Trudy knew it and it warmed her heart almost as much as it irritated her. Or at least that is what she would let Kim think.

“Burgess,” Kim jumped to stand up straight. The desk Sargent was still looking down at the papers in front of her when Kim made it to the desk. Her eyes were bright with the want to help her mentor.

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“You're lingering like a lost puppy. Go,” Kim sighed trying to put a cap on her own emotions at the day and fighting her urge to needle Trudy with her help. Instead, she took one last look at the powerful woman and nodded. Kim had only taken it two steps when Trudy called for her again, her finger crooked in a gesture for her to come closer back. “You and Halstead have gotten pretty close.” Kim scrambled to find the right words. Trudy cut her blabbering off almost immediately by saying her last name again forcefully. “You know how I told you that I used to be quite an eater at the precinct when I started out? If a man looked at me the way that Halstead looked at you today, I wouldn’t hesitate. You only live once Burgess, might as well enjoy it.” Trudy eyes raised and her piercing stare locked with Kim’s eyes.

XXX

Kim’s heart was pounding as she waited in the hall. Her brain raced through hundreds of scenarios. Jay opens the door looking only mildly surprised to see her. She hadn’t called or texted to give him a heads-up that she was coming. She hadn’t wanted to lose her nerve. Jay was shirtless, his gray sweatpants strung low on his hips. Kim tried and failed to keep her eyes on his face.

Kim had always known that Jay Halstead was a good-looking man. She would have to be blind not to notice. But he had always been filed tidily in the friend zone. Things had been shifting over the last few months. They had been spending time together. They had talked more than ever in the five years she had known him. She had got to experience his sarcasm and sass on a new level and up close and personal.

Then there was the physical aspect of it. Kim had cuddled with her male friends before- mostly Kevin. It was nowhere near the level that she had with Jay. They had been toeing a line for a while now. Her feelings and his position in the friend zone had been blurring around the edges for the last few months.

Jay quirks an eyebrow at her, “Did you want to come in or-” Kim still thrumming with adrenaline pushes up on her toes pressing a soft but firm kiss on the lips. She pulls back searching his face anxiety squeezing her throat. Jay blinks, “Or you could do that.” Kim opens her mouth to say something- apologies maybe.

Jay’s hand cups her cheek pulling her into a feverous kiss. Kim arches into him stepping into the warmth of his body. Fire alights in her stomach and pulses through her body. Kim opens her mouth nibbling at Jay’s lower lip. He groans dominating the kiss as he forces her into the apartment, slamming her against the door as it closes. His hands grip her thighs and she jumps wrapping her legs around his waist.

She rocks deliberately against him, his sweatpants doing nothing to conceal the feel of his growing erection. Jay groans, his lip finding the delicate skin of her neck. He leaves hot open-mouthed kisses down her throat and the V of her shirt. Kim tugs at his hair, her other hand feeling the muscles of his shoulders and back. Jay carries her to the living room throwing her down couch. Kim laughs breathlessly and starts to push up on her hands when Jay pulls her legs forcing her to slide to him with her legs spread for his hips.

Jay folds forward kissing her exposed stomach where her shirt had ridden up. He licks at her skin, his scruff tickling her as she unconsciously rolls her hips up into his face. Her hands trace his naked back as he continues his assault downwards. His fingers pop the button of Kim’s jeans. She lifts to help him pull them off, her cotton underwear coming off with them.

Jay’s eyes dilated and Kim barely breathed his name before he dropped to his knees in front of her. He nipped and kissed up her inner thigh. Just as he was about to get to her wet center, he passed over it going down that other thigh. Kim was panting hot and desperate with need. She whimpered at his teasing, her legs wrapping around him to pull him closer to where she wanted him.

Her eyes rolled back, her body arching as his mouth finally found her pussy. He lapped at her juices, sucking her clit into his mouth. His fingers soon joined his mouth in pursuit of her pleasure. Jay pumped them into her curling his fingers to find the place inside her that would make her fall apart.

Detective Jay Halstead was always detail-orientated and a quick study. This was no exception. It didn’t take long for him to figure out what Kim liked. Her thighs were shaking on his shoulders and he had to force them to stay open instead of squeezing around his head. Kim’s toes curled and her vision went white as her orgasm crashed over her. Jay's fingers worked her through her pleasure. He didn’t rush her letting her bask in her afterglow. She giggles trying to catch her breath. He gently let her legs slide down to his waist as he moved to steal another messy kiss.

Kim could taste herself on his lips and it was more erotic than it had any right to be. Jay was searching for the hem of her shirt and broke away from her just long enough to yank it over her head leaving her completely naked under him. His hands caressed the newly exposed skin, cupping her breasts and rolling her tight nipples in between his fingers. His mouth traveled down her body to meet his hands, sucking her right nipple into his hungry mouth.

Jay's body thrummed with white-hot energy. His hip rolled against her, wetting the front of his pants with her arousal. His cock was hard and rubbing a delectable spot. Kim’s hands push down his waistband, feeling his cock jump free catching between their sweat-slicked bodies. Jay broke free of her breast to groan, his hands following her curves down to her hips and squeezing in a warning. “Kim,”

“Do you have a condom?” He rose to search her eyes. There was no hesitation in the brown depths. He nodded stealing one more kiss before sitting back to reach for his wallet on the corner table at the end of the couch.

Kim took this time to study his body. He had an athletic build, all lean muscle. His thighs were as muscled as his arms and back. Her gaze stuck on his cock. Jay Halstead was above average in many ways and this was one of them. She knew it had to be on the bigger side when she was rocking against it but seeing it was another thing. His dick was long and slender curving slightly up, precum leaking from the swollen tip. Kim traced the soft hair of his happy trail from his belly button down. His hair was dark and neatly trimmed. Without thinking Kim leaned up and licked the bead or precum off the tip. “Fuck,” Jay dropped his wallet in surprise, luckily keeping his grip on the condom he had retrieved. Kim was looking at him innocently through her full dark eyelashes. Her hand grasped his cock firmly pumping it leisurely. “And you act so sweet.” Jay opened the condom with his teeth, and Kim let go so he could put it on.

“I am sweet,” Kim kissed him twisting her body to urge him to sit so she could straddle his lap. “But I do my best to get what I want.” She sucked at his pulse point and ground her hips against his making them both moan.

“Then take it.” His voice was husky as his touch brushed softly across her back. Kim needed no more encouragement as she sank onto his cock. Her arousal from her orgasm made it an easy slide. Kim cried out her breath hitching as she became fully seated on him. Jay’s hands gripped her hips tightly holding her down on him.

The pace starts slow but neither are willing to keep it that way for long. Kim increases the pace rapidly. Jay lets her take control-at first. Watching her body bounce up and down on him, feeling his pleasure sizzle through his body. When she finds a solid rhythm that she sticks to that is when he starts teasing her again. His fingers sneaked between their bodies to circle her clit. It has the immediate desired effect. She curses her movements getting sloppy as she arches her back giving him the perfect access to her breasts. He keeps his hand firmly on her back to keep it arched as he catches it in his mouth, tongue swirling around the bud then sucking.

He keeps rubbing her and feels her legs start to give the slightest tremble again. Kim might think she is in complete control. He has no problem with her assumption as he has her exactly where he wants her. Her movements get sloppy, grinding more than thrusting. “Jay,” It was a breathless whine. He released her nipple to watch her face as another albeit gentler orgasm washed through her. Arousal flooded through her dripping down her thighs and onto his, as she clenched around his cock.

He grabbed her ass and started thrusting up into her. Her nails bit into his back, holding desperately onto him. The angle is madding and Kim's hips stutter while following his pace. Jay’s hand tangles in her dark tresses. He knew Kim liked her hair played with. His fingers curled the strands around the nape of her neck and gave an experimental tug. A moan escaped her throat and he pulled harder feeling her core clench around him. His thrust gets sloppy as he comes hard.

Only the sound of the couple's mingled panting can be heard. Kim rests her forehead against his shoulder, rising and falling with his chest while he attempts to catch his breath. She tilted to see Jay’s blue eyes. “That was incredible.” Jay hums in agreement. “Let’s do it again.” He chuckles, but Kim levels him with an even stare showing her seriousness of the statement.

He huffs out a breath, relaxing on the couch for a moment then abruptly standing up and lifting her by the ass. She shrieked wrapping her legs tightly around him as he took her to the bedroom.

[mxlktxa]

kiss and makeup

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairing; abby x f!reader

summary; abby can definitely hold a grudge, but when it comes to someone she cant even spend a full month without she caves in, ready to get on hands and knees to beg for forgiveness

warnings; 18+ content, language, verbal abuse

a/n; do yall listen to music while you write??? or do you just raw dog it??? cuz personally i physically cant funcion without it

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

“Abby’s been asking about you,” Nora spooked me as she spoke, hands slamming down on my shoulders while I was picking the door to a room in the cabin. I sighed, turning to her as I put my knife away.

“Who?” I questioned, giving a puzzled look as she leaned against the door frame.

“Uhm… Abby? Y’know, your-.”

“Gives an actual fuck,” I dropped the expression, pushing through the doorway as Nora followed right on my heels.

“Y/N! You guys never fight like this. What the hell happened between you two?”

“None of your goddamn fucking business! If Abby wants to speak to me then she would come to this door right now, begging for my forgiveness.”

“She can’t exactly do that if you won’t even be in the same room with her.”

“Sucks to fucking suck then, doesn’t it?” I scoffed at the woman in front of me, searching the room for either supplies or possibly infected.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Nora brought her hands to her hips, sitting at the desk in the corner, “Abby is seriously worried about you.”

“No! She’s worried about that fucking immuned girl and her fucking guardian! She does nothing but spend her time searching for the fucking two, not even giving me the light of day to speak with her!” I argued, holding back on saying anything too harsh about Abby.

Just then a knock sounded at the door frame, Abby standing in it and rubbing her hands together. A groan left me, eyes rolling at the timing. Thank god I held back, I guess.

“I’ll take my leave then,” Nora left the room with a smug look, the tension between me and Abby swallowing us whole.

I kept my distance, arms crossed and eyes trained on her. Even if I was upset with her, I couldn’t help the urge to go over to kiss her then allow her to take her frustrations out on me.

“Y/N-.”

“Spit it the fuck out Anderson, I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

Shit. I need to calm down. At least just a little bit.

“Then just listen,” Abby huffed, walking towards me, the door closing behind her, “I know I haven’t exactly been caring for you but you need to understand that I’m trying to get back at them for my own sake. This is important.”

“More important than seeing if my fucking injuries would heal up? More important than a fucking gunshot going straight through my side? I fucking matter too, Abby!” I laughed, obviously not trying to lighten up the mood but because she was unbelievable. At least to me.

Abby huffed out through her nose, still walking towards me. My first instinct was to step back but I couldn’t. I wanted her to touch me, to hold me, to fucking love on me for once.

“I promise. From here on out, you’ll be one of my top priorities. I won’t leave you out anymore. I swear.”

Her words acted as a blanket to me, making me feel warm and comfortable. I could just tell by the look in her eyes that she meant it. All of it. But I didn’t want her to stop at that and understand that I was forgiving her.

“I want you to prove it to me,” I lowered my tone with her, scanning her body before she responded with a confused expression.

“Prove it? Prove it how?”

“Get on your fucking knees. Prove that shit to me.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter? I’m tired of letting you off the hook so easily.”

Abby complied, eyes glued to my own. It was pathetic to see a much physically stronger and bigger woman listen to someone,who wasn’t even close to intimidating overpower her so easily.

“Y/N. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve treated you the way I did. I shouldn’t’ve ignored you for so long. I was just blinded by my own goals.”

My hand lowered to her lips, observing as she desperately clung to it, kissing it so gently and holding my hand to her chest. Abby’s head then rested on my thigh.

“Yeah? And what have you learned from this?”

“To always, always include you. Always give you some of my time. Always check up on you.”

“When will this start? Today, tomorrow? Or after you’ve achieved your goals?”

“Now. Right now.”

“Good,” I smiled, “Stand up. You look absolutely pathetic. Don’t you think?” I asked, watching as she slowly began to tower over me.

“I do. I’m sorry.”

“Shut up and take me already,” I snarled, pulling her close to allow her to pick me up from the ground and kiss me roughly.

Abby went straight to pin me against the door, my legs wrapping around her hips as she palmed at my breasts for a bit. In the heat of the moment, I wrapped her braid around my hand, violently hauling her head back, winning a slight grunt from her. I chuckled, shaking my head.

“Fuck, Y/N, please.”

“How are you not embarrassed, Anderson? What do I do that keeps you coming back to me?”

“I-I dont know. Fuck, I need you. That’s all I know.”

I released her hair, Abby immediately let her teeth sink into my collarbones, now hovering her hands over the hem of my shirt, her frosty fingers sending shivers up my spine.

“Can I?” her tone was so beautiful, almost intoxicating. She was asking, no begging to touch me. To feel me up and give in to me. I couldn’t say no to her, to her heavenly requests.

“Do whatever pleases you, Abby. I’m all yours.”

Right there, Abby had let me fall to the ground, kneeling to undo my pants and shover her face into my crotch, forcing a moan from me as she did so. Her tongue swirled inside of me, lapping up any slick she could, letting her thumb play with my clit as she ate me out.

“Fuuuck, Abby, shit,” I did whatever I could to keep my voice down, leaning my head back on the door. Abby was grunting and humming as she continued her assault, her unoccupied hand digging her nails into my hips.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she mumbled, “I’ll never disrespect you. Never again, I swear.”

“Shut the fuck up and keep going, damn it,” I murmured, looking down at her as her eyes locked with mine, “Fuck you, Anderson, holy shit.”

Abby only chuckled, hands running up and down my waist. Soon she had noticed I was just panting now, which she understood as I was ready to release this unbearable knot in the pits of my stomach. Her thumb moved fast, producing more moans and whines from both parties.

My knees were ready to give up on me but Abby was able to somehow keep me up, eyes still on my own as she kept her teasing going.

“Abby, Abby, please. Fuck, I’m so close, so fucking close,” I cried, hands meeting her hair again only to refuse her from pulling away and denying me. But maybe I should’ve let her deny my orgasm as when it hit, I couldn’t help but cry out her name, banging on the door restlessly.

Once she pulled away from me, she helped me with my pants then allowed me to fall on my knees and into her arms. At that point, I was a mumbling and quivering trainwreck.

“We gotta work on that delivery, Y/N. What am I supposed to tell the others when they run up here?”

“F-f-fuck if I kn-know,” she tried to hold me even closer to her chest, like she wanted to become one, “I fucking hate you, Abby.”

“I know.”

[harri-etvane]

In lieu of the next sharing-a-bed chapter, I wrote 1k words of angst instead because I couldn't get this video of Vova at the Kharkiv printing press out of my head.

Let me know what you think? x

For the first time in a long while, Maks isn’t sure what to say; the words he wants to automatically rely on feel trite and useless - 

You’re not okay, are you? I’m sorry. It’s awful. Tomorrow will be better. Let me hold you. I know. I know. You're doing the best you can-

Sometimes, more often now than at the beginning- there is anger, rage; a vicious snarling fury that comes out at night. It’s something he knows how to handle, he knows what to do when there are no other thoughts than revenge like a razorblade; he’ll roll with the punches in the gym at whatever hour, with the barely controlled force that comes and then just as suddenly - goes. He picks Vova up off the mat and holds him quietly as he trembles. This time, he doesn't see the rage come, or go- just the aftermath in all its brittle fragility.

The office is dark now, too dark. The day is at an end and Volodymyr is a silent, faceless figure, bowed beneath the burden he carries, the Ukrainian flag at his back.

“Volodymyr- I think it's-”

“What?”

Volodymyr's rough-edged voice cuts through Maksym like a knife, leaving him flayed open suddenly- a quiet, lone syllable drenched in barely concealed bitterness; what do you want from me now? I have so little left to give.

“Talk to me.”

He doesn't say anything; still staring at his desk. The papers have been filed away, his phone sits silent; there is nothing for him to work at; but he sits, motionless. Maksym bites down on the inside of his cheeks until he can taste blood, his own body aching to reach out, to gather Volodymyr to him and take him away from all this hurt. But he can't. Not yet. Not now. He thinks about the possibility of - one day; of pulling Vova away from this, the moment when he will hand his precious, beloved country to another. He thinks about a quiet, warm cabin in the Carpathian Mountains, or a small, private place by the sea, below the endless blue sky, somewhere he can see his country whole and entire and blossoming. Somewhere he can heal, where he can rest - finally.

But that will come later; Maksym tells himself. It has to. What they have is here and now. He takes a breath in.

“Please. I know today was-”

“Books. Maksym. Children's books-” his voice cracks over the words, one hand clutching hard at the edge of his desk as though if he were to let go, he would shatter irreparably. The pain in his voice runs deeper than water, than blood. His raw, unfettered grief is for more than material as it always is; for the lives lost, the loves fragmented, the families shattered. For the children's books and all they represent - their future as a nation, their hopes for a peaceful and prosperous democracy no longer under the shadow of war. Ukraine's children and all their unchecked, still unrealised promise, waiting to bloom in the sunlight.

“I know.”

The look on Volodymyr's face feels like someone has reached into his chest, pulled out his heart from behind his ribs and crushed it beneath a steel-toed boot. He wishes more than anything he could have been there to try and help somehow; the image of Volodymyr amongst the ruined printing press and damaged books, his face like an open wound will stay with Maksym for a long time. He thinks of the way Vova had folded his arms, gripping onto himself as he listened silently to the manager- another senseless tragedy among hundreds that seem to occur without pause. He doesn't know what to do, what to say to make this hurt lessen somehow.

Vova's quiet inhale is half a sob, some strangled cry from within dragged to the surface and Maks cannot bear it.

“I don't- I don't know how-” 

“I–” the words for a reply are stuck in his throat, lodged there. I know, love. But he doesn't know. 

It is not for want of trying, painfully evident in each quiet attempt Maksym makes to take some of the weight from Volodymyr with varying degrees of success. Sometimes they get little moments together - an hour here or there to read, to drink coffee, to watch the football or listen to the radio. They feel like miniscule victories to be treasured wholeheartedly. Other times, there are days, weeks in between the tiny moments. Countless nights where Maksym places an arm around him and pulls him away from his work at an ungodly hour in the night because he has worked for eighteen, nineteen hours - too exhausted to do anymore. There are weeks on end where he travels through several time zones and speaks myriad languages, until he is too drained to talk, to think, to do anything.

Maksym moves forward and gently turns Vova's chair to face him, placing a hand on his cheek, guiding those dark, tired eyes to meet his, before pulling him to his feet, guiding him to rest against his chest. He swallows hard, but his voice is firm, steady as he speaks, one hand rubbing quiet circles against the knots, the hard grooves of tension in Vova's back

“You're doing everything you can. No-one could ask anything more of you.”

“It's not enough-” Vova’s voice cracks in two again, something desperate about it, agitated.

“It is.”

It has to be - because this country, your most beloved Ukraine; she will swallow you whole if you are not careful and you would let her because you love her; because you would give her anything. You are giving her everything. 

But we cannot lose you. I cannot lose you.

“I promise you. It is.”

In the dark of the office, Maksym feels the weight of Volodymyr in his arms and knows that in the morning, these shadowed minutes of raw, broken misery will be shoved aside in favour of work, of action- always moving forward because if Volodymyr stops, he's never quite sure if he could begin again. But, for now, Maksym can stand here, hold on to him and let the moment pass through them.

[harrietwritesstuff]

I wrote this a while ago; after that one video where Vova went to visit the printing press in Kharkiv & the way he held himself that day just, stuck with me. I think I posted this on my other blog, but it doesn't harm to have it here for prosperity.

Title: Printing Press

For the first time in a long while, Maks isn’t sure what to say; the words he wants to automatically rely on feel trite and useless - 

You’re not okay, are you? I’m sorry. It’s awful. Tomorrow will be better. Let me hold you. I know. I know. You're doing the best you can-

Sometimes, more often now than at the beginning- there is anger, rage; a vicious snarling fury that comes out at night. It’s something he knows how to handle, he knows what to do when there are no other thoughts than revenge like a razorblade; he’ll roll with the punches in the gym at whatever hour, with the barely controlled force that comes and then just as suddenly - goes. He picks Vova up off the mat and holds him quietly as he trembles. This time, he doesn't see the rage come, or go- just the aftermath in all its brittle fragility.

The office is dark now, too dark. The day is at an end and Volodymyr is a silent, faceless figure, bowed beneath the burden he carries, the Ukrainian flag at his back.

“Volodymyr- I think it's-”

“What?”

Volodymyr's rough-edged voice cuts through Maksym like a knife, leaving him flayed open suddenly- a quiet, lone syllable drenched in barely concealed bitterness; what do you want from me now? I have so little left to give.

“Talk to me.”

He doesn't say anything; still staring at his desk. The papers have been filed away, his phone sits silent; there is nothing for him to work at; but he sits, motionless. Maksym bites down on the inside of his cheeks until he can taste blood, his own body aching to reach out, to gather Volodymyr to him and take him away from all this hurt. But he can't. Not yet. Not now. He thinks about the possibility of - one day; of pulling Vova away from this, the moment when he will hand his precious, beloved country to another. He thinks about a quiet, warm cabin in the Carpathian Mountains, or a small, private place by the sea, below the endless blue sky, somewhere he can see his country whole and entire and blossoming. Somewhere he can heal, where he can rest - finally.

But that will come later; Maksym tells himself. It has to. What they have is here and now. He takes a breath in.

“Please. I know today was-”

“Books. Maksym. Children's books-” his voice cracks over the words, one hand clutching hard at the edge of his desk as though if he were to let go, he would shatter irreparably. The pain in his voice runs deeper than water, than blood. His raw, unfettered grief is for more than material as it always is; for the lives lost, the loves fragmented, the families shattered. For the children's books and all they represent - their future as a nation, their hopes for a peaceful and prosperous democracy no longer under the shadow of war. Ukraine's children and all their unchecked, still unrealised promise, waiting to bloom in the sunlight.

“I know.”

The look on Volodymyr's face feels like someone has reached into his chest, pulled out his heart from behind his ribs and crushed it beneath a steel-toed boot. He wishes more than anything he could have been there to try and help somehow; the image of Volodymyr amongst the ruined printing press and damaged books, his face like an open wound will stay with Maksym for a long time. He thinks of the way Vova had folded his arms, gripping onto himself as he listened silently to the manager- another senseless tragedy among hundreds that seem to occur without pause. He doesn't know what to do, what to say to make this hurt lessen somehow.

Vova's quiet inhale is half a sob, some strangled cry from within dragged to the surface and Maks cannot bear it.

“I don't- I don't know how-” 

“I–” the words for a reply are stuck in his throat, lodged there. I know, love. But he doesn't know. 

It is not for want of trying, painfully evident in each quiet attempt Maksym makes to take some of the weight from Volodymyr with varying degrees of success. Sometimes they get little moments together - an hour here or there to read, to drink coffee, to watch the football or listen to the radio. They feel like miniscule victories to be treasured wholeheartedly. Other times, there are days, weeks in between the tiny moments. Countless nights where Maksym places an arm around him and pulls him away from his work at an ungodly hour in the night because he has worked for eighteen, nineteen hours - too exhausted to do anymore. There are weeks on end where he travels through several time zones and speaks myriad languages, until he is too drained to talk, to think, to do anything.

Maksym moves forward and gently turns Vova's chair to face him, placing a hand on his cheek, guiding those dark, tired eyes to meet his, before pulling him to his feet, guiding him to rest against his chest. He swallows hard, but his voice is firm, steady as he speaks, one hand rubbing quiet circles against the knots, the hard grooves of tension in Vova's back

“You're doing everything you can. No-one could ask anything more of you.”

“It's not enough-” Vova’s voice cracks in two again, something desperate about it, agitated.

“It is.”

It has to be - because this country, your most beloved Ukraine; she will swallow you whole if you are not careful and you would let her because you love her; because you would give her anything. You are giving her everything. 

But we cannot lose you. I cannot lose you.

“I promise you. It is.”

In the dark of the office, Maksym feels the weight of Volodymyr in his arms and knows that in the morning, these shadowed minutes of raw, broken misery will be shoved aside in favour of work, of action- always moving forward. But, for now, he can stand here and hold on and let the moment pass through them.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Nothing and Everything - Part 8

Summary: Certain times of the year are harder than others. This is the first year where they have all been present to face the memories of all the trauma. How can they come together when they each have their own traumas to face?

Pairings: Gen fic (they love Layla and she loves them)

Warnings: Heavy dissociation, Mentions of child abuse, some mentions of violence, Depression, mentions of self harm, PTSD, mentions of hospitalization.

Word Count: 5299

Part Eight: It's time to communicate. Or at least try. Why can they only get part of the story? What do they have to do to come to an understanding?

Previous Chapter HERE

------

“I’m supposed to be happy. To be cheerful, aren’t I? To be this shining beacon of light in the dark.” Steven gazed up at the gray sky, feeling the wind shift as it rustled through the trees and the birds moved as if following the sun. 

He closed his eyes and let the last of the warm rays bathe his face before they faded behind the clouds. 

Today was the day. The day when he had become we. Perhaps that was what it really meant. The birth of a brother. When I became us and when mine became ours. 

The loss of a brother, when everything became nothing. 

Now here they existed in this nothing desperately trying to make it work. 

Steven felt like a child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was hard for him to admit that he had done wrong when he was doing what he felt was necessary. It had never crossed his mind that it had the potential to hurt them. 

Yet, he had still kept it a secret and done it without asking. Perhaps a part of him had been afraid of being told no.

Marc had been so distant lately and hardly around. Steven had felt he was free to make that call. He had not thought that anything about the situation might trigger Marc out. 

You are lucky I didn’t answer the phone.

Jake had chastised him, making him feel like a small child, as Jake cleaned up the mess. The mess being Marc. 

He watched memories be swept away like so much dirt on the floor. The papers were pushed into a top drawer of his desk and locked away. Jake had elected not to dispose of the past, but had made it very clear that if Steven were to look at it, he had better do it when Marc wasn’t around. 

Why do you have to be difficult? You don’t need to know these things. These things don’t involve you. They aren’t your timeline.

But they did. They involved Marc and Jake. They involved the body. They involved the making of them. 

“What does involve me? What history do I have?” Steven had been angry. Demanding to know his place in how they got here. 

You have every happy thought and moment of peace. 

The message on the board was for them all. Talk. How did they talk? How was it possible to communicate when Steven sat alone in the light and the other two hid in the shadows?

Steven had asked Layla, much like a child asking for permission, if he could go outside on a walk through the park. She had hesitated, offering to go with him. “I need this. Please?” 

She had nodded, saying that she couldn’t keep them caged up forever. Perhaps a test of her fragile trust. Steven promised not to run. 

How could he run when the problem was very much a part of him? 

“We can’t heal if we don’t know what we are healing from.” Steven sighed. “I’m not some house plant that you feed and water and put in the sun so that it can look nice.” 

You are not the one with the trauma. You are here to support us. Jake argued. 

“Presumptuous, don’t you think?” Steven shot back. “My trauma and your trauma may look different, but they are still traumas. Bad memories can’t and shouldn’t always just be covered up!” 

I’m sorry you feel bad. I really am. Jake sounded tired. We aren’t ready to all sit here anguished in memories that just hurt. You saw what happens when it becomes too much. 

“So I’m just supposed to never be sad? To be upset or overwhelmed? That’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think?” Steven hunched as he continued his walk through the park. His favorite oversized sweater kept the gusts of cool air from chilling him, even in the warm afternoon rays of the sun. Summer was ending but there was still some fight left in it. 

So what do you want to know? Do you want to know how many people we killed in the service? Do you want to know that we weren’t always the good guys? Do you want to know how many detentions we got or how we flunked out of chemistry? Do you want to know how to most effectively reload a gun when under fire? How to avoid getting stabbed in hand to hand combat? Maybe you want to know the best way to defend yourself against a belt buckle! Or do you want just the basics on how to pretend to be good so the psychiatrist will let you out of solitary after you tried to escape!

“Have you ever erased my memories?” Steven paused to let a happy family walk past him on the path. Two seemingly loving parents doting on their young child. Would it stay that way forever? The child had yet to disappoint them. The father had yet to look the other way and slowly disappear into a silent background. The mother had yet to fall into alcoholic dependence that both distanced her from them all and also sparked a violent fire that would burn them. 

You know the answer to that.

“No. I don’t.” Steven watched the family disappear down the path. “I know the fake memories. Those are mine. Those were my coping mechanisms. I’m dealing with that. I’m sorting it out and I’m dealing with the fact that I’m…” 

Not real. Made up. A fictive.

It didn’t matter how many times Marc and Layla both tried to reassure him that it didn’t matter. That Marc hadn’t made him up. It still didn’t take away from the knowledge that he now had that he was a person born from a desperate need to be someone and something else. It didn’t take away from the fact that Marc had a history and Jake was his own person from the start. 

You are Steven Grant. You are a man with your own wants and desires and stubborn ass beliefs. Jake sighed softly. I have never taken away your memories. I’d made up stories to explain why you suddenly woke up in Bosnia or Pakistan, and you accepted them happily because you were not ready for the truth. You once woke up in the middle of a gun fight and fought me when I tried to put you back to sleep. You won’t remember that because it didn’t fit into your narrative. I never had anything to do with how you handled your memories. I only take away what Marc can’t handle. 

“Dreams.” Steven nodded. “The feeling of restlessness and travel. It’s what I told myself.” 

His own coping device had always been to brush it off and continue on. On and on and on until it was too much not to look away from. Until Marc had crumbled at his feet and Steven had literally tripped over him. 

“Why didn’t you stop it? When Marc went back for…For Mum’s funeral. Why did you let it get that bad? Why let me out? Why did you let me wander off with our life and away from Layla?” Steven gripped his sleeves as he found a bench and sat on it. “Why let me wander into that gun fight in that village?” 

Jake was silent a moment and Steven could feel him shifting inside. 

I was…compromised. 

“Compromised? What does that mean?” 

When she died. I… went to sleep. I woke up in the Alps. 

Steven looked up as if he might see Jake standing before him, eyes on the ground and hat down low to hide his face. “You went dormant?” 

Not to that extent… But close to it. I didn’t think I was helping. With her dead it felt like I wasn’t needed. That maybe I was hurting things. That maybe we could get our lives back together and just be… normal. 

“I was dormant then too.” Steven looked down at his hands. “I know I wasn’t around. Years… There are so many years I have missing. You tried to give the live back to Marc. You didn’t think he would break down and try to give the life to me.” 

We all make mistakes, Steven. Was it so wrong of me to think that without me or you that maybe if we were one person that things might be easier? Marc obviously had the same thought with a slightly different twist. 

“Bloody hell.” Steven closed his eyes and listened to the wind rustle the still green trees. Soon their leaves would turn and fall. Bare limbs reaching for a sun that sat too far away and indifferent to care for them. “We are a mess, aren’t we?” 

It was nice for a while, wasn’t it? Just you out here living… Doing normal things… Being one person….

“I’m not one person!” Steven snapped loudly and winced as a jogger gave them plenty of space as they went by. 

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? I’m not one person. I was given the stage without a script! I was alone and shouldn’t have been! I should have known what was going on and I didn’t! Some of that is my fault but you both left me drowning and did nothing!” 

I’m not here for you! Jake snapped back. My purpose was Marc! Not you! Every time I ran was because of him! Every time I had to protect us it was because of him, not you! How was I supposed to keep an eye on you when every time I looked away from him we died! 

“Try looking at yourself for a change, Jake!” Steven stood up, angry and wanting to stand his ground. “You’re a part of this life too! Try living in it!” 

I DID LIVE IN IT! 

Steven huffed for a moment then a thought hit him hard. “Did Marc go dormant before?” 

Two years. Maybe three. I was primary host. We were still very young. 

“Was I around?” Steven sat back down. 

A bit. You went to synagogue and major holidays. You were the good one. Marc started to dissociate so much that he became a problem. He couldn’t run the life and you were too…you. We were in hiding, Steven. This isn’t normal. You have to understand that. A little british boy has no place in a hispanic jewish family in Chicago.

Steven nodded. He understood the concept of masking but the thought to actually do it always made him feel ill. It was just one more thing Jake had been forced to do in order to protect them. 

I had to take over. Marc is missing those years. He faded so hard and fast that I thought he might disappear all together. 

“Like the others?” Steven probed gently. A suspicion that he had long had ever since he started looking into their condition. 

Jake quietly and carefully checked to make sure Marc was nowhere near. Steven could feel him locking doors and shuttering the place till it was like they were both enclosed in some sort of tomb. 

Yes. There were others. They came and went. Some split, some just showed up. They never stayed long. There was one that only showed up to eat since Marc went on a hunger strike once. They all had specific purposes. I can’t tell you how many. I don’t know. There was one that was obsessed with space. Another fictive maybe? I’m not really sure. It’s been a long time and they didn’t make it past our teen years.

“We really are just a small system, aren’t we? Is it still just the three of us? I want to know.” Steven didn’t mind if it was. What he did mind was the thought that maybe there was someone else inside that was in pain and he wasn’t helping them. Someone hiding or unaware that was just as lost as he had been. 

As far as I’m aware… It’s just us three. I check now and then. 

“Were they your friends? Do you miss them?” Steven couldn’t imagine having other head mates that just disappeared. The thought scared him suddenly. It was possible to lose purpose and fade away. What if Marc really did leave one day? What if Jake left? Would he ever no longer be needed and go like the others? 

The space guy was kinda cool. Jake smiled and Steven could feel a wave of sadness come off of Jake. They were not as well defined or developed as us. We got along and functioned as well as we could. I think maybe if things become as bad as they were, there is always the possibility for others to show up. 

“But as long as we can hold down the fort it will be just us three.” Steven sighed. “I want to know these things, Jake. I want to know our life. I want to know how we lived and what hurts. I want to be able to know why I’m sad and how not to make Marc spiral. I want to know how to help you.” 

I don’t need help. I need cooperation. We have to find our flow again. I can’t protect us if we’re all freaking out!

“Welcome to denial, Jake.” Steven laughed softly. “You aren’t immune to pain and hurt. We’ve all got trauma and some form of PTSD. I think you’ve been ignoring your own pain for too long.” 

Jake made a grumbling sound but he better than to argue this with Steven. 

They sat in silence for a moment then they felt a nudge. 

It felt strange and Steven felt himself shift as if he were floating outside the body. Marc had entered the room and things had gotten so bad that their communication suddenly felt like they were yelling across a vast field against the wind. 

Steven gripped the sleeves of his sweater and brought them to his face, covering his mouth with the soft fabric. He could smell their aftershave and a hint of Layla’s shampoo. There was a faint smell of their morning coffee and toast. He felt the light fabric, soft and warm brushing his cheeks and lips. 

It was comforting and brought him back down. 

They sat still, all three holding on. After numerous tries, Steven at last shook his head and stood up. 

“Sorry mates. It was worth a try, right? Maybe three is a bit much right now. I’m going to head back. Can I talk to Marc?” Steven waited patiently while Jake faded back and the field between them all disappeared. 

He could feel Marc shifting behind him. It felt like so long ago when speaking only happened through visual effort and control was fought for. He missed the moment of fluid switching when they were so close that they could share thoughts and motions. 

Now, a wedge sat between them and there was frustration, hurt, and confusion. 

Steven continued on his walk through the park. He looked at the sun burnt grass, the reaching flowers, the bees on missions, and the children that ran without care. 

He paused to watch a game of cricket, lamenting on how Marc and Jake didn’t understand the sport at all. Not that he understood baseball. Not that any of them had tried to understand the other… 

“We’re really shit at this.” He laughed. 

I’m glad you find it all so funny. Marc muttered. 

“Laugh or cry, Marc.” Steven smiled. “I’m tired of crying today.” 

Did you cry today? 

“One of us did.” Steven was starting to accept that perhaps he was the emotional medium between them all, if that was even a thing to be. He could feel their overflow of sadness, anger, and often brutal self hatred. He now understood them to be not his own, but it still affected him. 

Sorry. Marc apologized, though Steven wasn’t so sure it was Marc who had been the one to start the tears. He was always taking the blame. Always ready to assume the worst of himself. 

Steven shook his head. “I know what day it is. It’s okay to shed a few tears.” 

Marc nodded, his lips pulled thin. Was he ready? Would he ever be ready? 

“Do you think Randall would have liked London?” He continued on, leaving behind the cricket match. 

I don’t know. Maybe. 

“I think he would have liked the museum.” Steven couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to bring a brother to the museum. Pointing at the pictures and picking what they liked best about them. Would he have liked Egyptology? Maybe he would have been more into natural science and collected rocks.

I think he liked anything he was given. He was just a kid. I don’t know what he would have liked now. Marc sounded a bit short tempered. It was hard for him to imagine who Randall would have been. 

“Did you like things?” Steven changed directions quickly. “When you were little, I mean. What things did you obsess over?” 

They stopped walking and looked up at the sky, watching the clouds. 

I don’t know. I don’t remember. 

Steven thought back to their bedroom. The one in his memories and the one he saw in Marc’s memories from the afterlife. 

“Did you like cars? Space? Egypt?” 

No. Jake likes cars. You like Egypt. I think we got a telescope at some point but I don’t remember ever using it.

A warning flashed across his mind, some sort of signal from Jake to stop pressing on their childhood. 

So he was still watching. 

“Yeah. I don’t remember much from our childhood either. Guess it wasn’t that important, huh?” Steven turned up the path and settled into a comfortable stroll back towards the entrance to the park. “Do you hate Dad?” 

They stopped walking and Steven felt his legs stiffen on their own. He wasn’t sure if it was Jake or Marc. 

He stubbornly pushed on. “You were angry I talked to him. I don’t understand why. I have so few memories of him and I don’t know how he fits into my life. Am I not supposed to figure that out?” 

I think the general consensus was that we were going to cut out all the toxic bits from our life. He was a part of that.

“How was he toxic? Was he cruel to you? Did he hurt you?” Steven didn’t mean it at all as a sort of prod. Wide eyed and hands at his chest as he pulled on his sweater, it was an innocent question. He legitimately didn’t understand. 

Compliance in the face of cruelty is still cruelty.

Steven jumped as Jake’s voice cut across the space between them. 

Marc’s voice was a little quieter but still there. He’s right, Steven. He let it happen. He was very much a part of our abuse. 

Steven walked on slowly, hands gripping the fabric tightly as he struggled with this. 

“I don’t think he understands.” He thought about the few conversations he had had with the man on the phone lately. How surprised he had been at first and then how easily he had slipped into a normal conversation of ‘how are you’ and ‘how is the wife’ and further ‘you should visit.’ 

He doesn’t have to understand. Marc huffed. 

“But how will he know that he hurt us if we don’t tell him? What if he’s sorry?” A memory flashed across their minds of the old man in the window, beconning for them to come inside. To return home. Of the younger man pleading with him not to leave. 

It is not our place to tell him that he has caused us pain. It is his place to know and recognize that he should have done better as the father. He has every right to ask for forgiveness and we have every right not to accept it. 

Steven stopped again and felt himself drift ever so slightly. It was a lesson he had heard before. A teaching that he had never understood at the time. He was so gentle and soft, he had not understood what it meant to not forgive someone asking for it. He never wanted to hurt anyone. To cause conflict or pain. He wanted to be the peacemaker. To be loving and make people happy. 

Memories started to flow. Ones that never made sense before. Memories of an empty chair across from him at the table. Memories of his father sitting silently at the head of the table. Always silent and looking down. Memories of sad eyes watching him and turning away. 

When he thought of his father, he never could picture his father addressing him. Never recalled any conversations or praise or interaction. That was why he had become a hidden part of Steven’s life. Overshadowed by the mother that he thought and wished he had. Her attention had been on him. Her eyes always fixed on him. Her everything enveloping him while his father had given him nothing. 

Steven?

Marc gently reached out and Steven pulled back, physically taking a step back. 

Today was the day that he had become they. Today was the day that they had become a second thought and a third and then on and on until a mind shattered and now all the pieces were trying so hard to come back together but there were pieces missing. Pieces that would never be there again. Pieces that were too broken to fit. 

Steven, give me the body, okay? 

Steven shook his head and sat down there in the grass and dirt. He turned his face to the sky and felt the sun, colder now as it faded behind the clouds. 

Jake. Don’t… Don’t force it. Okay? Make it gentle. 

I have an idea.

Marc sounded tired and far away and Steven was distantly aware of his hand moving into his pocket to fetch his phone. A few buttons hit by feel and memory alone. 

The phone was a comfortable and warm pressure at his ear and against his cheek. 

Steven smiled as the phone rang. He searched the memories. Had it always been voicemail? Could he remember her voice? What would he say to her now? 

He would say a lot. He had so much to say. 

He heard the click of someone picking up. Or perhaps the machine. 

He could pretend. He could imagine just like always. It was no different than when he had thought she was alive and she had been dead all that time. Talking to ghosts. Celebrating ghosts… Everything in his past was a ghost. 

“Hey Mum.” Steven took a slow breath. “I’m glad you’re dead. I am. I don’t know what I’d do if I knew you were alive and had everything that I have now. Everything you gave to me.” 

There was a sound on the other end of the line but it was too far away for him to know it. He took a shaky breath and continued. 

“You gave me so much, didn’t you? More than pretend postcards. I wonder if you knew that you birthed another son when you picked up that belt. You lost one and gained another. Was it a fair trade? Was I enough like him?” 

He breathed softly, listening to the machine record. It was silent but he could hear breathing. Was it her listening? 

“I think I tried to make up for it, didn’t I? In a way. Marc felt so bad about how we lost Roro that he tried to give him back, didn’t he? But I wasn’t right. Did you notice? Did you notice me at all? Did you notice Jake? We tried, didn’t we? I wanted your love so much and what did Jake want?” 

He dug his free hand into his sweater at his chest and twisted tightly. 

“I realize now that I never asked about Dad. In all our conversations, I never once asked for him. He didn’t care for me. Even now, he calls us Marc and I realize I’m still masking. Without trying, I wear the mask around him. He wouldn’t give me the time of day. Now here I am reaching out and all he can see is Marc. And it isn’t even Marc he sees. He sees who he wanted Marc to be!” 

Steven closed his eyes and turned his face to the sky, listening. “Jake took over when it was too much. Did you beat him too? Did you make Jake listen to you as you made him nothing? As you told him not to exist? Is that why Jake doesn’t want to exist now? Because you hurt him so much? Did Dad ignore him too? Or did Dad talk to Jake? Jake was more of the son I couldn’t be. Did Dad tell him to be a better son? Did Jake ask Dad for help? Is that why Jake hates him?” 

He could hear the breathing on the other end, quiet and trembling slightly with emotion. 

“I hate you for how much you broke us. I hate you every time I wake up from a nightmare. I hate you for every tear I’ve had to shed without knowing why. I hate you for the doubt and self destruction you embedded into our heart! Every time Marc drinks and every time Jake sits in his car trying not to have a panic attack! I hate you for every moment I was alone and didn’t understand why! I’m glad you’re gone. I don’t know what I would do if I had to know you were there hurting us by refusing to love us! All I wanted was a mother and all you gave us was this broken house!” 

Steven wiped the tears from his face with the back of his sleeve. “Today is Roro’s birthday. Somewhere in another timeline I like to think that he’s still alive and I don’t have to exist. He’s celebrating with his big brother and a loving mother and father. But those people don’t exist here. There never was a loving mother and proud father. Roro is dead and so is that happy big brother. He died and now it’s just these ghosts inhabiting this body. We aren’t who we are supposed to be because of you.” 

He took a slow breath and looked at the sky, gray and filled with colors as the sun started to set. They were pretty. In the past, he would have glowed about it to his mum. Told her about the gorgeous sunset and amazing weather. Now he could only focus on the clouds. 

“I got your death certificate in the mail. Dad sent it to me.” He took a moment to swallow back the tightness at the back of his throat. “Long term alcoholism. Destroyed your liver. You must have been sick a long time. Dad must have known. We don’t let Marc drink anymore. It’s hard. We also made Jake stop smoking. I won’t let them destroy us the way you did. You took everything. You even took away our chance to tell you how much you didn’t deserve us. So I’ll say it now. You didn’t deserve us. We were too good for you. We deserved better. And we still do.” 

Steven choked back a small sound and wiped his nose. “Bye Mum.” 

He hung up and slowly put the phone down. 

The world was silent for a moment, and he floated over it. He floated in a space where he was happy and unaware. He lived in the light and acted as a beacon of happiness. He had to. There was too much darkness in their lives and someone had to help guide them out. 

He felt gentle hands wrap around him and strong arms pull him close. It was imaginary, deep inside where touch was odd and sometimes communication didn’t work. Yet still he sank into it as Marc and Jake wrapped around him like his favorite sweater. 

Distantly he heard the phone buzz and sing a jaunty tune. A hand picked it up and he wasn’t sure who it belonged to. 

“Hello?” No one was certain who was speaking. All three of them felt the body a if they were controlling a puppet on strings. Real but not where they were. They existed in a far away place where nothing could hurt them. 

“Baby?” Layla’s voice reached out. Even she didn’t know who she was talking to. She couldn't find their accent. 

Steven smiled at the cleverness that was Jake. Jake, unsure if they were in danger or not and knowing that they needed her, had called Layla. Always her. 

They struggled to reach through time and space, all three happy to hear her and all three unsure where they were in the head and body and world. “Hey. We’re… We’re okay. Still at the park, I think. We didn’t go far. There’s… Families and kids.” 

“Do you want me to come get you? Are you okay?” She was crying. They could hear her crying. Was she crying because she was scared? Had they hurt her again? 

No. She was crying for them. Because she at last understood where their pain came from. Where it started and lingered across their lives like an unending storm. 

They looked around. “Could you meet us at the exit? The one at the corner. We can get there.” 

“Of course, Baby. Do you want me to stay on the phone?” She sounded worried. 

“No.” They thought about it for a moment. “No. I… We want to be us for a moment. See you soon.” 

“Okay. I love you. Call if you have any trouble, okay? I’ll wait for you.” 

“We love you too.” They hung up and stared at the phone for a moment. It was odd. Before, in the rain and storm inside, they had all wanted different things and fought. Now it was different. They all wanted the same thing and moved without argument or asking. 

Standing up, they brushed the dirt and grass from their pants then moved carefully as if expecting the body to not function right. Taking a step, they expected it to be like walking across the moon. Yet gravity and the world was still there. The body moved and they blended in a way they had never felt before. 

It was odd. Both unsetting and comforting. They deeply disliked the loss of autonomy but there was a greater sense of comfort in knowing they had support. They were functioning as a team. 

They made it to the end of the park and stared at the people around them. People that moved and functioned every day as single units with one purpose and thought. None of it seemed real. How one body and mind could house so many and endless worlds and realities. 

One of those people smiled to them and hugged them close. “Layla.” They sank into her, hugging her, though they could only feel it from a distance. “Sorry. We aren’t sure who…Who is where.” 

“Do you need help? I’m not sure how I can help…” She looked them over as if maybe she could find a button or something that might separate them out again. 

They shook their head. “It will sort itself out. We’re just going to be for now. If that’s okay… We just want to exist right now.” 

She slipped her hand into theirs and held it tightly, anchoring them to her as they walked back towards their flat. “Exist. You deserve to exist as much as the rest of us.” 

They smiled and held her hand. It was nice to exist together. 

Part Nine (last one) HERE

[messenger-of-stupidity]

Little Bit of Hope - Day 4

I have officially listened to every video by Castle Audios (By the time this gets posted it’s been a while. I wrote this in the beginning of March.), and come to the realization that I am in fact a bisexual mess that simps over any and all types of voices and accents. Someone save me dear god, I was happy with the reminder that ✨feminine voices✨ are  amazing by hearing some of my friends speak. Now I got the fictional characters reminding me too.

Also I know Castle is on Tumblr but I stfg if she sees this, I'm going to scream. It's bad enough that I'm worried about anyone seeing this. But the original creator?

Hrhehjfjevffhrhrhr

Okay I'll shut up and get on with the actual fic now.

Day Four: a little bit of hope

Characters: Ranger and Claire

CW: mentions of previous episode at time of writing, cursing, fluff, crack, pining

Masterlist

Ranger slammed the door closed behind them, their shoulders slumped. The side of their face still ached from the fight that they had found themselves in a couple days ago now. The bruise had healed enough from dark purple to show hints of greens and sickly yellows. If it hadn't been for Diane and the fact the park ranger team wasn't exactly big, they might have gotten in trouble for so obviously having been in a fight. The bruise that covered a good portion of their right ribs was uglier though. Should they have probably gone to a hospital to make sure their ribs weren't fractured or anything? Yes, but that was something they would rather die than do and it also felt like letting Claire win. Something they were absolutely not going to do.

"Dear, can you try not to slam our doors?" Diane's eternally concerned voice asked them. Ranger looked over guiltily and offered a sheepish smile and nod.

"Yeah. Sorry Diane." They said as the mother hen of a woman wandered over to them. She reached over and cupped their cheek gently, thumb brushing gingerly of the discolored skin. She clicked her tongue, whether scoldingly or sympathetically Ranger couldn't tell you. "I'm fine. Really. You shoulda seen the other guys." They weren't going to tell her about the bullet hole in the sign. She would only worry more. And at that rate all her hair would go white and she might have a stroke or something. She nodded, even if she was unconvinced and let go of their face. They smiled and stretched to try to convince her even if little bit more that they were fine. The action of stretching made their side ache, but they hid it. She sighed and patted their shoulder before going back towards her office. They exhaled and turned towards their desk, sitting down, giving their body a rest.

They pulled open a drawer to pull out the bottle of painkillers, popping one in their mouth and grabbing the old water bottle from the corner of their desk to swallow it down. The bottle was put back inside the desk and closed. Ranger leaned back in their seat, scowling at their computer as the events of the past couple days replayed in their head.

-- No they weren't going to think about that extremely awkward car ride with Claire. Shut up. As far as they were concerned, no such thing happened. --

They weren’t going to regret releasing classified information about the poachers to Claire. As long as she didn’t spill the information, they were safe from losing their job. And then there was that bullet hole. Was it simply an expression of displeasure or was it a threat? With people like that, you could never be too sure. Even if it was a threat, they doubted that the local law enforcement would do anything. After all, the poachers should have had jail time after everything with their records. But here they were, wandering around free and shooting state park signs. Ranger’s frown deeped and they leaned forward again, booting up their computer. They had the files about the poachers and the gun that they were licensed to own... maybe if they could compare the bullet hole and licensed guns they could try to get the law enforcement to care about unlicensed gun use. That might be something to look into. Of course they would need solid proof, which would mean taking the short walk down to the sign. And a gun expert.

They might have intimate knowledge of forestry, but finding specific bullet hole information was a stretch of their skills. The likelihood that the guns were allowed was high as well considering it was a lone bullet hole and not from anything with a spray range, nor automatic multi-fire. It could just be from a hunting rifle. Which the police wouldn’t care about, even if they should since the poacher’s hunting licenses were revoked after the trap-setting on protected grounds. They scrolled through the listed weapons, chewing on the inside of their cheek. They pulled out their phone to take a couple pictures before they stood up again, grabbing the hat off of the hook next to their desk. 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Diane!” They called and left, closing the door softly behind them this time. They walked down the faux trail --because how could you consider it a real one when it was so obviously planted in the middle of a few pathways to simply simulate trails?-- towards the sign, sliding their phone in their pocket as they placed their hat on top of their head. Eventually ‘GLENWOOD STATE PARK’ shone out at them with a few smiling native animals decorating the metal. They were more focused on the hole in the sign. They eyed it before gently poking it with one finger. They were so absorbed in it that they didn’t hear the truck rolling up behind them. They spun around quickly at the sound of slightly husky voice calling out to them.

“Hey khakis! What’cha doing?” Beth asked. The window of the backseat from the truck rolled down and another inhabitant of the old country club building stuck their head out. Ranger was pretty sure they responded to Knight. Ranger crossed their arm and made sure they were standing in front of the bullet hole. No need to worry this group of people either until they were sure of the motivations behind the message. Besides, it was directed to them and them alone. They were pretty sure...

“Nothing you need to worry about. Are you headed up to the old lounge?” They asked. They weren’t sure if the group calling the old lounge ‘the den’ was legitimate or not. It seemed weird anyways. Beth nodded and jerked their thumb back towards Knight. 

“Yeah actually. This pipsqueak needs to pick up something for their girlfriend. Are you headed up there to talk to Claire?” She asked. Warmth sped up Ranger’s neck and they scowled. The reaction spurred a laugh from Beth, who looked back at Knight. “I hope you have the money you promised. You really have to stop placing them." She asked. Knight opened the backseat door and scooted away from the window.

“Hop in. We’ll give you a ride, Ranger.” They said. Ranger gave a confused look to the both of them, but found themselves climbing inside regardless. Were they some kind of glutton for punishment? Claire wouldn't be happy to see them just traipsing around her property. And why did that bother them a little more than it used to? Who were they kidding, they knew why. They clicked the seatbelt into place and huffed, crossing their arms as Beth started driving down the broken pavement of the road.

"When are we getting these roads updated, Khakis?" Beth asked. Ranger wrinkled their nose at the nickname but didn't protest. Pick your battles and all that. They glanced over at Knight, who was currently trying to fit half of their legs out the window as they twisted in their seat.

"I'm not sure. Most taxpayer dollars go to maintaining the trails or the office and parking lot. Usually when people come here they aren't looking to drive on the main road." They answered calmly. Beth sighed and mumbled something about wet blankets. Ranger thought the conversing was over until Knight spoke up.

"Have you ever met my girlfriend, Khakis?" They asked, looking up at Ranger from where they were sprawled sideways on the backseat. Beth groaned and caught their eye in the rear view mirror.

"Say yes and move on. Otherwise that lovesick idiot will ramble on and on about Evie. I love her like a sister, but it's a bit much." Ranger stared at her before smirking and looking at Knight.

"Can't say I have. Would you like to tell me about her?" They asked. Knight sat up quickly, their eyes gleaming, and Beth groaned again. The sound tapered off into a soft whine and Ranger laughed. That would teach them not to refer to them as 'Khakis'. Even if they did wear them a lot.

The truck eventually pulled up to the old lounge and the ignition turned off. Ranger got out quickly, hearing the soft ticking of the cooling engine before they turned towards Beth and Knight. They watched as Knight grabbed a wrapped up rug and hold it over their shoulder as Beth grabbed a cooler. They stared at the cooler curiously. Their curiosity only heightened as Beth shifted it over to her other hand upon catching Ranger staring.

"Claire is inside. You're welcome to come in." Knight called over their shoulder as they walked up the steps. Ranger rubbed the back of their neck in an effort to self soothe as they followed the two towards the front door. Maybe they really should just turn around...

"Thank fuck. I thought you two somehow miraculously got lost." Another familiar voice sounded. It was a lot less grumpy than when interacting with them, that was for sure. They heard a snort from Knight before the younger pushed past Claire from the sound of a tongue clicking and a soft 'rude'. Beth giggled and stepped towards the side, putting them in full view of Claire.

"Look who we found just standing by the road." She said before moving around Claire to enter the lounge. They figured that was revenge for getting Knight to recite all the reasons they loved their girlfriend.

"Oh. Hi there Ranger. This is certainly unexpected." She said, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. They swallowed and stared directly into her eyes.

"I'm guessing unwelcome too?" They said, sarcasm coating their voice heavily. Ah, just like old times. They watched as Claire wrinkled her nose.

"I never said that. Although it's always welcome to change depending on why you're here. So why are you here, Ranger?" She asked dryly. They pushed their hands into their pockets and rolled their eyes. They needed to come up with a lie, and quickly.

"How familiar with guns are you, Miss Green?" They asked her and Claire sighed, face dropped into one hand. Their brows drew together slightly in confusion before scoffing at her muttered explanation for the reaction.

"Always answering my questions with questions. Dear lord..." She straightened again and her hand returned to being tucked safely in her arm. "Some. Not enough to comfortably call myself some kind of firearm expert. Why?" Ranger tipped back their hat and turned around, walking down the stairs. They didn't hear the door close and after a couple moments of silence Claire swore and went after them. She caught up to them pretty easily, hands now pushed inside her jeans pockets. "What is this about, Ranger? Is it about the sign from the other day?" She asked. Ranger stopped abruptly, turning towards her.

"If I could get the local law enforcement to care about illegal gun possession, usage, and destruction of government property I might be able to get those poachers nailed. I probably won't get them on possession, but the other two might work. I just need to make sure the bullet that came from the rifle was anything that had been registered under their name. And since they defaced a state government protected park it might go to the circuit Court instead of just the municipal one." They said quickly. They watched as Claire's face furrowed and doubt entered her eyes. All that was encouraging was the small twitch of the corners of her lips. They sighed and turned away from her, continuing to walk away. "Nevermind. I'll let you know if it works." They murmured. Claire didn't stop them.

Instead she watched them go down the gravel driveway before sighing and turning back towards the lounge. It was kind of adorable seeing them get so fired up and hopeful about something that was unlikely to happen. But if they intended to give a little hope to her again, it certainly had its intended purpose.

"Good luck, Ranger." She hummed as she closed the door behind her.

[just-a-silly-little-whumper]

You're Still Alive (Inside my Head)

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

For Whumptober Day Four. Title from More by Billy Locket.

Renata is gone, but not dead. That is the hope that Malik clings to.

Contains: Minor character death, some gore, grief/mourning, vampires, angst, complicated feelings

---

Dr. Blackwood didn’t cry at the funeral.

No tears fell from her eyes as the pallbearers carried two caskets into the graveyard behind the cathedral. Her face remained impassive as the priest gave his last rites. The only indication that she felt anything at all was when she closed her eyes as her daughter’s empty casket and her husband’s mangled corpse were lowered into the ground.

Malik wondered how she could remain so stoic.

The sight of Augustus’s study was still burned into his mind’s eye. Blood had covered his desk and floor and shelves, had splattered all the way up to the ceilings, the smell of it hanging in the air like a dark miasma. Augustus’s throat had been torn out in deep gashes down to his stomach, as though a wild animal had set upon him. His body had lain against his desk, a mockery of a tired professor having fallen asleep writing in his journal.

A scrap of Renata’s blouse, the white cloth stained red, had been left behind. There was no other sign of her.

Malik couldn’t believe it at first. Even as he called for the guards, rushed forward to try to wake Augustus up, he couldn’t believe that something like this could happen. That his friend and professor could just be gone. They had all had dinner together earlier. They had plans to go to the lake later that month.

But now, as he watched the gravetender throw dirt over Renata’s casket, it was more than grief that had him trembling. Who could do something like this? Because as violent and senseless as it was, there was no way it wasn’t planned and purposeful. Not with Augustus’s office being the only one to see any blood. Not with the books carefully taken from his shelf. Someone did this, someone took people that he cared about away. His one friend, gone, and he didn’t know why, but he intended to find out.

And, given that they never found Renata’s body… did he dare hope that she was still out there somewhere?

---

The first sign was a bloody handprint on the wall. Then, the almost-silent sound of footsteps against the stonework. When he turned the corner, there was a cloak-shrouded figure, ever-so-slightly hunched over, back towards him and a hand braced against the wall.

“Hello?” He was careful to keep his voice friendly, even as his hand hovered near his sword. “Are you hurt, stranger? I can take you to the university if you need healing.”

The figure went still, almost unnaturally so. Malik couldn’t see if they were bleeding, but their cloak was too dark for him to really be sure. But they didn’t turn towards him, didn’t even seem to breathe.

“It’s okay,” he said, softer. “I won’t hurt you. If you’re in danger—“

“I’m fine,” they said, sharp and scared, and it was Malik’s turn to stop cold. The voice was familiar, even after all these years, even after time and change and who knew what else. “I’m fine, you can- you can go—“

His hand fell limp at his side. Unthinkingly, he took another hopeful step forward. “Renata?”

She didn’t turn. Didn’t look at him. Didn’t even pause. Just took off, down the alleyway and away into the evening.

“Wait!”

He didn’t hesitate to follow her, heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t let her get away, not when he just found her. But though he knew these streets like the back of his hand, barely a minute passed before she was gone entirely. As though she had never even been there.

Coming to a stop, Malik heaved a deep sigh. His heart ached. He wondered what he did wrong. Wondered what she was so afraid of. Wondered if it had even been Renata at all.

---

There was a vampire sitting on the edge of the lake.

His old friend was sitting on the edge of the lake.

The vampire and his friend were the same person.

Malik had been sent to kill the vampire, or, failing that, bring her in to be dealt with by the Church. She was a danger to the city. She couldn’t be allowed to walk free.

But Malik couldn’t hurt his friend. He just couldn’t.

He just watched her as she stared out at the sun disappearing beneath the lake.

She looked small.

Could it really be her? It seemed impossible. But there was no mistaking it.

“I know you’re there, Malik,” she called, her voice carrying easily across the open air.

He wanted to get closer, but he was afraid that she would run away again. So he stayed where he was. Held his ground. “I’m not going to hurt you, Renata.”

“Aren’t you?”

He winced a bit at that. Sighed. “I don’t want to. I won’t.”

“Yeah?” She didn’t turn to face him. She sounded tired.

He didn’t understand how she could sound tired. He was here to kill her. Nervous energy was skittering under his skin like electricity; it took a matter of will to stay still.

“What happened, Renata? Why—“

“Don’t.” Her voice was flat, but strained with just enough tension to give Malik pause. “Please.”

“Okay.” His mind was racing, trying to figure out what to do, but she spoke up again before he could come to any sort of conclusion.

“I just wanted to see the lake again. That’s all. I wasn’t going to stay any longer. You can tell your captain that I’m gone.”

“They want you dead.”

She turned to look at him. Her face looked younger than it should, and yet so, so much older. Her jaw was set; there was no affection in her gaze. “I already am, Malik.”

He watched her stand, and walk away into the forest. He didn’t stop her, or follow her. Just watched her go.

Renata was a vampire. But it was still her. She was still out there.

And maybe there was still something in her that could be saved.

[drazzilder]

Control

By Drazzilder 

Endeavor x Male Reader

R18+

An Anonymous request:

“Could i request an enji x male reader.

Maybe its during his redemption arc and the reader hates to see enji so down and depressed as apposed to his normal confident and loud self so the reader treats him to a nice date night where he lets enji take full control.

Rough sex, reader is a bottom, anal or oral, up to you. Some fluff date stuff before hand.”

Endeavor hasn’t been himself lately. The big man has been very solemn and quiet. He is a man of few words to begin with but now he barely says a word, mostly just grumbles. The other sidekicks notice this as well but all are too afraid to anything about it. You can’t help yourself and try to help him out.

Today he is in his office and the door is cracked open. Your curiosity is at a peak when you tip toe to the door and listen. The hero is speaking but it seems to be only to himself. You can barely make out the words but you manage to make out most of it.

“Why do I keep seeing the same dream?….Why am I never there?….I hurt them all so much…. Is having them move out the right thing to do?.... They deserve to be happy…” Endeavor starts to trail off as his words become more mumbled. All you know is that he is down, something is up and you wanted to find out. You don’t even bother to knock as you open the massive door. Endeavor doesn’t even look up from his desk when you slam your hands down on his desk.

The man sounds like he had to force out the word “Hello.” You don’t have to look at his face to know there isn’t an ounce of emotion showing.

“Endeavor! How have you been?” You say with an exaggerated tone, trying to brighten his mood; however, this seems to cause the opposite. When he looks up, you swear that he could kill with that look. You guess that maybe that wasn’t the best way to start so you try again.

“Sorry to be so over the top, I’m just really excited to go to this new restaurant in Tokyo! The wait list is 6 months to just get int but a friend of mine had to cancel so he gave me his spot.” Looking back at Endeavor, his face now goes back to a blank stare.

“That is nice of your friend.”

“The problem is that it is a reservation for two and I have no one to go with. I didn’t want the second seat to go to waste and eating by yourself is so lonely. I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

Those words made his nose flare and smoke come out of his nostrils. “Why should I go with you?”

“Lighten up. I just wanted to know if you wanted to come. You are away working so hard and you seem down lately. Maybe some time away from home could be good for you.”

The man sits there a moment in silence. You are starting to worry you might be fired for asking him to come to dinner with you but you are shocked when he finally speaks. “Very well. Where and when.”

“REALLY?!.... I mean meet me at the train station at 5, dinner is at 6.”

The hero goes back to look down at his desk which signals you to leave. You close the door and lean against it and sigh. Maybe you can find out what’s going on and maybe help him. You then stand back up and finish your day at the agency. After running home and changing, you meet the man himself at the train stations. He is in a full suit; you are just wearing a nice shirt and kakis. The train ride couldn’t be more tense, he never said a word as he followed you on and off the train. At the restaurant, you are greeted by a gentleman in a nice suit and seated immediately in a private corner. After the waiter takes your order, Endeavor just sits looking depressed.

“You haven’t said a word all evening, something has got to be on your mind.”

Endeavors gaze now turns into a harsh stare as he responds “It is none of your business!”

“Well, I finally got a word out of you.”

“What?”

“I’m just trying to see why you are acting different.”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you are.”

The man just stares blankly as you before looking down. “I-I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry.”

He is about to leave but you grab his hand. “Endeavor, wait!”

He pulls his hand away and glares “Why do you want me to stay?”

“I heard you in your office.”  

His nostrils flare and his face now only shows anger. “You were spying on me?!?” He says much louder than he wanted.

“I didn’t mean to but you sounded like you are hurting.”

“You know I should fire you that.”

“I know but it is only because I care. You have been down recently and I heard you talking, I couldn’t help myself to try to figure out what is wrong.”

Endeavor sighs “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

He looks down and speaks under his breath: “This isn’t your problem.”

“But I might be able to help. You can tell me.”

He sits down and begins to tell you all about his family: how he hurt them, why they are gone, why he is living alone. He is trying so hard to atone his mistakes but he forgetting about himself. He has been alone for a few months and it’s hitting him hard.

“I guess that is everything….”

“I see.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Give me a second, it’s a lot to process…. It sounds like you are willing to change to help your family heal and be better. The only problem is you are forgetting something: yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you need to heal as well.”

“I am fine.”

“Look at yourself, the man you used to be was so full of life, loud and boisterous but now you are in a slump. You hardly spoke all day even when prompted.”

“Oh.” He just tilts his head down after his response.

“It’s ok that you are feeling guilty but you need to help yourself too. I bet you can’t even look at yourself in the mirror easily. I have an idea that might help after dinner. Are you willing to try?”

“If it will help me, then yes.”

“I think it might.” The dinner was delicious, no wonder it had a 6-month waiting list, it was the best food you ever had. You finished the meal with Endeavors favorite, kuzumochi, to try to cheer him up more. Soon, you are both back on the train and headed home. However, Endeavor follows you instead of heading back to his home. You arrive at your apparent and close the door behind him.

“What now?” The large man questions while standing in the middle of the living room.

“Sit down while I get something.”

Endeavor finds his way to the couch and waits for what feels like forever. He is about to get up and leave when he hears you coming back to the room. You are now only wearing a thong and begin to approach him.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?” He starts to crawl backwards into the couch but can’t go any further.

“Helping you….”

“How is this going to help me?!”

“Your life has gone out of control recently, maybe you need to take control of something again.”

“What?”

“Take control and do what you want with me.” You say as you begin to sit down in his lap. He looks at you in complete shock as he stares unblinking.

“You are a man, my sidekick, I can’t possibly- “

You interrupt him by placing a finger on his lips. “Don’t think about that, just let go. It already looks like your body is responding.” You look down to see a large budge forming in his slacks. You look back up and see something is different; his eyes look almost glazed over. He pushes you off and you are afraid he is going to leave but he just takes off his jacket and grabs your face. He almost drags you off your feet has he begins kissing you all over your face. At first, they are gentle but then more and more forceful until your lips meet. Then he starts to push in full force with his tongue. The sweet flavor of the kuzumochi is still all over his mouth as he assaults you with his lips. You feel his arms go down to your chest and hold you tight has he lifts you up.

“Ooof” is all that comes out of your mouth when he slams the both of you on the couch, still kissing you. You lay under him for a moment until he stands up. The look in his eyes have changed again, almost looking primal as he starts to rip his shirt and slacks off. Now just in his underwear, you see that he is fully hard and large. You can’t help yourself and tease him seeing the number one here like this. “Looks like someone is excited. What are you going to do to me?” You finish your sentence with a wink.

The hero responds by grabbing your arms and flinging you over his shoulder. “Just shut up and do as your told.” He carries you to your bedroom. You are slammed down again and you look up to see the Endeavor has flames on his face. “My sidekick has been very naughty today spying on his boss? What would a good punishment be?”

“Oh, I’m sorry~” you reply back in a sarcastic tone.”

He grabs your ankles and flips you over. “I think a few good spanks should do….” Endeavor doesn’t even bother to finish his sentence when you feel his massive hand hit your rear end hard. You can’t help but moan in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he continues to spank you. By the 6th time, you are at your limit and tears are running down you face. You feel him grab your legs again and flip you over.

“I thought spanking was supposed to be a punishment?” He says with a smirk. You look down and notice you are now full hard. “I guess we should take care of this.” The big man grins and he takes a finger under your thong and rips it easily. Once exposed, you feel his hand grasp you, fully engulfing your member with the size of his hand. He starts pumping up and down as you start moaning again. You try to match his pace with your hips but he uses his other hand to hold you down. He must sense you are close again as he stops. “Not yet, you still need to be punished properly.”  Moving to the nightstand, he grabs a bottle of lotion and starts to pull down his underwear. You could tell he was big but seeing it fully in person was something else. He starts to rub lotion all over his cock and approaches the end of the bed with an evil grin.

“You are going to take all of this.” Is all he says as he lifts your legs. You feel his tip start to push into you. You slam your head back on the bed as he starts to going further inside, his girth is way beyond anything you had to handle before. It isn’t long before it gets everything inside of you but you can barely breath from the feeling. He then starts to move again, this time out. He almost pulls out completely before going full speed into you, his hips practically spanking you with the speed they are moving. You start to feel his hands getting hot on your thighs as he starts to get into it more. Endeavor is too into his own world to notice you already came but you can’t tell him even if you wanted to.

“You are such a naughty sidekick!” The motions are starting to intense as he starts to literally steam up the room with his sweat. Your body has gone limp from all of the thrusts but Endeavor is too busy to notice. Between the name calling and speed of the thrusts, you could tell he is getting close. Right before the big man climaxes, he just yells “You are going to take all of my cum!” His huge cock pumps semen deep inside of you, it’s so hot it almost feels like it is burning your insides. You do your best but the amount overwhelms you and some does leak out. He keeps up his motions as the twitching starts to slow. He finally stops after what feels like an eternity. Once Endeavor pulls out, yours legs flop down.

“Are you going to clean this up?” The hero almost demands as he is standing above you.

“I would but I can’t feel my legs right now. I will later if that’s ok?”

“It will have to do.” Endeavor then gets into the bed next to you. He shifts the both of you to the top and places the covers over you both. It isn’t long before you fall asleep in the man’s grip. You wake up the next morning in the bed alone, only the sound of a shower indicates that someone else is home. The shower stops and the door opens.

“Good morning.” He walks out in only a towel.

“I… I am sorry about last night.”

“I am off to get ready for work, you should do the same.” Is all he says as he gets dressed and walks out the door. You just quietly get up and get ready for the day. It isn’t long till you find yourself at the agency. However, the quiet that has taken over the agency recently is now replaced with the yells and demands of the number one hero once again. Nothing mean, just being a good leader and hero.

“What’s going on?” You ask a fellow sidekick.

“I don’t know but what ever happened, he seems to finally be himself again. He does seem less harsh now.” Is all she says before she rushes off. When he sees you walk in, Endeavor tells you in his loud voice to quickly get to work and check your patrol area.

“I guess he is going to pretend that nothing happened.” Is all that goes through your head as you log onto the computer. When you get your schedule, you see that you are working with Endeavor today, alone; something that never happens. You look up and see the hero walk past you with the same look in his eyes that you saw last night. You don’t know what is in plan for today but you can’t wait to find out.

[boldlyvoid]

Amethyst you so much

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.

Warnings: pure fluff, weed mention, hurt/comfort, grief and mourning

Word Count: 6.4K

Read on Ao3

Late nights at the office had become his thing since Gideon left.

He couldn’t bring himself to go home some nights without a game of chess, a cup of coffee, and the ambiance of the post case staff working. He would’ve had no idea about what goes on after they close a case if he didn’t stay behind most nights.

The phone rings almost every 10 minutes, and it’s always answered by the sweetest voice. The fax machine never turns off, and the most beautiful girl in the world is always running around placing papers in different places.

He’s been smitten with her since she started here, 2 years ago. Never seeing much of her since she was switched to the night shift, always wanting to just watch her from afar, never speaking to her unless he needed to.

“Yes, again we are so sorry for the door,” he can hear her voice from the back corner of the room. “Agent Morgan will be paying for that out of his paycheck, don’t worry, Mr. Kennings. We’ll be sure to remember your hotel when we’re in the area again. The FBI has a very generous budget for overnight cases. Of course, you have a good night too.”

She hung the phone up harshly and let out a deep sigh. He turned around to see her face in her arms, resting against the desk. She looked done, completely fed up. He would be too.

She looked up then, noticing that he was making eye contact with her. She awkwardly smiled and waved at him, “sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Spencer replied. “We asked for the key, I should have stopped him from kicking it in.”

She laughed then, walking over to his desk so she didn’t have to yell across the room. She sat on the corner of his desk lightly, “why do you stay every night?”

“Oh, um,” he wasn’t prepared for this. She had never talked to him before. She was barely able to even look at him when she used to place papers on his desk 2 years ago, now she was on his desk.

“I don’t like to bring the work home with me, it’s better to destress here before I go to my apartment,” he answered, half honestly.

She nodded slightly, “I get it. Luckily I go home in the mornings so the sun helps me feel better.”

“Going home in the dark isn’t fun,” she lightly smiled up at her.

“Do you want a coffee or anything?” She asked softly, “seeing as I am still your assistant as long as you’re here?”

He laughed lightly, “I would, but I’d like to join you in the staff room for it?”

“Okay,” she stood, straightening out her shirt as he stood as well.

He held the doors open for her, letting her walk out first, still smiling as she waited in the hall for him. Never being anything less than 1 foot from him for some reason, and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Do you like your job?” He asked lightly.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “It’s like customer service on crack. Have you ever had to explain to someone why you can’t pay for the cracked foundation after Agent Morgan’s ransacked a place?”

“I honestly never thought of who has to deal with the aftermath,” he awkwardly admitted to her. “I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t stop laughing as they entered the kitchen, “it’s fine. I never have to apologize on your behalf, it’s everyone else who seems to be reckless. Sometimes I feel like it would be better if I came along to babysit.”

“That would be helpful,” he smiled softly as she entered the staff room.

He watched as she took a new coffee filter out of the cupboard. Emptying the coffee pot with ease, rinsing everything before adding the water and scooping in the grounds. He was mesmerized by how fast she was able to do it, then again it was sort of her job.

“What mug would you like?” She turned to him with a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Um, the purple one, if it’s there?”

“You really like purple, huh?” She teased him, standing on her tippy-toes to reach the mug for him.

She placed it on the counter before grabbing a white mug, it had a bumblebee on it, “bee happy” written along the top. It was perfect for her.

“Purple is a stress-reducing colour,” she explained. “When I was a kid my parents painted my room purple so that I’d sleep better.”

“I’ve always been drawn to it.”

She leaned against the counter while the coffee pot started to percolate, “Probably because of your anxiety, coffee doesn’t help that.”

“It’s in my DNA to be like this,” he tried to joke, knowing he succeeded when her smile crept back onto her face.

He was on a mission to keep seeing it.

“For someone who spends a lot of time with dead bodies, creepy places and bad people, you sure are a mousy little thing aren’t you?” She teased him.

“I also love Halloween, go figure.” He’s not sure where the confidence came from, being able to make light-hearted jokes like this was only easy with the team.

Which she technically was a part of. He’s seen her almost every single day for 3 years, slowly being able to get comfortable enough for this very moment.

“What else are you into, outside of here?” She asked honestly, making his heart swell as no one else had ever asked him before.

“Lots of things,” he sighed. “I love to read, I’ll read anything. But mostly I enjoy far-off worlds. Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Sherlock mostly.”

“No supernatural?” She gasped. “Sacrilege, honestly. What kind of nerd are you if you don't support supperwholock?”

“That's the show with the monster hunting brothers right?” He tried to recall it to his mind.

She nodded with a pressed-lipped smile, “it’s bad but in a way where I can’t stop watching every Thursday, they just introduced an angel who is pretty gay. Star Trek is cool too, I guess, I was raised by Trekkies.”

“My mom was into Doctor Who.”

“Mamma’s boy,” she teased him slightly, returning her focus to the coffee as she poured the now finished brew into their mugs. “She was nice when she came in that one time, I made her a very sweet coffee just like yours.”

He reached for the sugar then, poring a generous amount into his mug with a grin, “how much do you like?”

“the same amount,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “I hate the taste of coffee, but it keeps me awake.”

He poured the sugar into her mug as she places a spoon in each. Allowing him to stir his own before picking it up finally. Holding the warm ceramic in his hands, it was almost as warm as the feeling in his chest when he looked at her.

He’s felt it for a long time. He’s been caught staring at her by Derek, JJ even tried to get him to give her his number. Which she already had for when she calls him into work in the middle of the night. They knew he had a crush, he did too. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

“Come to my desk, I want to show you something?” She asked softly, avoiding eye contact as she walked towards the door.

He followed, like a lost puppy, all the way back to her desk. It was always neat, he always looked at it when he made his way up the stairs to the briefing room. He could even see it from where he sat at the table sometimes. Always wanting to see her leave in the mornings.

She had a collection of rocks that always changed, he loved the blue one the most but it wasn’t there currently. She had all new ones since the last time he looked.

“Here,” she hands him one. It’s brown and gold, the colours moving and shifting as he turns it with his fingers. The gold running through it like a beautiful wave.

“what’s this for?”

“It’s a Tiger’s eye, for good luck and happiness,” she smiled. “Keep it at your desk and maybe it’ll be easier for you to relax when you come back?”

The butterflies in his chest were swirling then as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting him to take it, wanting him to feel better. Caring for him.

“Thank you,” he barely whispers, clearing his throat softly. “It’s very nice of you.”

“You’re always nice to me, so,” she shrugged.

They sat down then, he dragged his chair from his desk over to hers. Sitting in close as she explained all the meanings to her rocks. He listened carefully, getting to examine each one as she spoke.

“This one is Jade, it’s for balancing emotions and allowing compassion so I don’t scream at everyone on the phone,” she laughed as she placed one in his hands. Her fingers brushing his palm softly.

It was a beautiful green stone with a thin white line running through it, separating into 3 directions as he flipped it over, “it’s beautiful.”

“I know some people don’t believe in this stuff,” she started to get embarrassed as she placed them all back on the shelf. “But I’ve always thought; if the moon, which is just a rock, can control the water, and humans are 70% water, then who’s to tell me the moon cycles don’t control my emotions and these smaller rocks can’t help problem areas?”

“You’re not wrong,” he shook his head softly as he thought her words over. “People depended on the stars and planets for guidance originally, as well as rocks and herbs for healing, just because it’s outdated doesn’t mean it doesn’t work?”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “No one has ever agreed with me that easily.”

“Anytime you want to talk, I’ll just be over there,” he pointed at his desk. “And I’m a phone call away?” He swallowed sharply at his boldness, trying to stay calm as he awaited her answer.

“I do have your number,” she smiled, reaching out to place her hand on his. “But you should go home, I’m sure you’re chilled out now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, staring at her hand as they touched. He lightly wrapped his hand around hers, holding it slightly, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after,” she whispered, tilting her head as she smiled at him.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Penelope was always dragging him out. She would take him shopping, to dinner, to the movies. She was like his big sister, dedicated to making sure he wasn’t always cooped up or trying to retreat into a fantasy life.

She kept him busy.

She had 4 bags in her hands as they walked down the street, peering into the store windows to see what else she could possibly be interested in taking home for someone. That’s when they passed the natural health store.

He stopped in his tracks, seeing all the different rocks on the wall accompanies by little cards that described how they could help. He opened the door and rushed inside before Penelope even noticed he stopped following her.

“Good afternoon!” The shop owner called out to him. “How can I assist you today?”

“Um, the girl I like has a rock collection,” he says softly, knowing Penelope is behind him listening. “Crystals more specifically, I’d like to get her some?”

“Well, you came to the right place,” the man beams, escorting him to the wall of rocks. “What is she like?”

“Wonderful,” the words are carried out of his mouth on a sigh as he thinks about her. “She’s confident and nice, and caring. She’s always positive and just so lovely.”

“I’ve got you,” the man starts picking rocks off the wall and placing them in his hands.

Spencer follows him to the desk where he lays down a handful of rocks, Penelope is shockingly quiet as she stands beside him, staring at the collection. She’ll be full of questions later, all of which he is terrified of.

“This is a rose quartz, pretty basic love, beauty, anti-depression stone,” he pushes the pink and a green rock towards him. “Serpentine is for new adventures, observation and insight. I have a feeling you’re up for an adventure with her?”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, “I like that one. It would be better to get her some rare ones, some that have to do with friendship, new beginnings, or opportunities?” He tried to explain his feelings as best as he could. Not knowing if he sounded dumb for a change.

The man smiled wide, “here,” he dipped below the counter and dug out a box. “Chrysocolla is literally for new beginnings, love and opportunity.”

He hands Spencer a vitreous, raw blue stone with small green marks running all through it, it’s beautiful like her. “This is perfect.”

“I’ll throw in a Kiwi Jasper as well, it’s for being by someone's side, support and trust. As well as a Ruby in Zoisite it symbolizes finding the joy in life with someone,” he hands Spencer two equally beautiful stones, prepping a bag and wrappings for all of them.

Spencer lays out the 5 stones he picked out, watching him wrap them with care before placing them in a bag. He rings everything up, Spencer pays and before he’s even out the door Penelope is pouncing on him for answers.

“Who?!”

He can't help but blush and stutter, trying to brush past her and continue walking down the street. “You can’t hide forever Spencer, who is she?”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“You literally said so?” She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Come on? I won't tell anyone!”

“Y/N.”

The gears are turning in Penelope's head as she tries to place a face to the name, knowing she’s seen her somewhere, “From the office?”

He nods softly, “the one Derek bullies me for staring at?” He clues her in more as they walk.

“He also bullies her for staring at you,” she adds with a smile. “She’s going to love those, when are you going to give them to her?”

“I was thinking about just leaving one on her desk every day? Maybe with a note for why I picked it?” He really wants to woo her, she’s too special to just flirt with.

“She’s going to love that.”

—

Sure enough, he walked into work every day for the next week, placing a rock on a sticky note on her desk. He was never around when she was able to see it, only knowing she got it when he'd arrive at work the next morning with a note reading 'thank you ♥︎ ' on top of his files.

He thinks about her all weekend, planning how he'll give her the last rock as he takes the elevator up that morning. Only to see her sitting at her desk, phone pressed to her ear as she tried to talk someone out of suing the FBI, she looked absolutely miserable. Just a casual Monday morning for her, almost at the end of her shift.

He rushed over to his desk, putting all his stuff down to dig one of the rocks from his satchel. Picking the Kiwi Jasper for today, he grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote her a little note.

“Always here if you need to talk, -Spencer ♥︎”

He walked over to her desk, she was still talking so she didn’t notice him until he was right there, she looked up at him with a thankful smile.

“Yes sir,” she answered the person talking to her. “Can I call you back after I speak to the chief? thanks.” She hung up on him, turning all her attention to Spencer.

“I know you know it's been me leaving these, but I brought you in another one,” he says softly, placing the rock in her hand and sticking the note to the shelf where it would end up.

“oh my gosh, Spencer?” She placed her free hand on her heart as she looked at the rock.

“You looked upset?”

She stands and pulls him into a hug, he can feel all the eyes on him as he holds her back, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as she squeezes him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled back, awkwardly smiling at him as she also noticed everyone staring.

“Always,” he smiled back, hand still resting on her arm. “Um, I have a case I need to get to.”

“Of course, good luck,” she smiled.

He pulls the tiger's eye out of his shirt pocket, showing her that he still had it, “kinda hard not to have good luck with this.”

She bit back a smile, her eyes gleaming as she took a deep breath through her nose. Releasing the same feelings he was keeping inside, allowing both their butterflies to swarm out together.

—

He loved when they had cases in Virginia. Being able to stay in the bullpen and work was relaxing, it was easier to think where he felt safe.

He was working on the geo profile all alone, a huge map stretched across a clear case board as he laid a yardstick across it. Drawing a thick red line with marker over it, in his own little world as he worked away.

He doesn’t realize she’s standing there too until she’s lightly pressing her hand on his back.

“Hey,” she whispers softly. “It’s 10 pm, thought you’d like a coffee?” She places the purple mug on his desk with her purse, turning her attention back to what he’s doing.

“Thank you, I’m almost done here,” he says softly, finishing the red triangle he was making on the map.

“I’ve always found it fascinating how you do this,” she complimented him. “You’re so careful.”

“Like baking, it’s an exact science,” he smiled softly.

It made her giggle slightly, placing her hand back on his back as she moved in closer to look. He wanted her to stay there forever, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. He tried his best to steady his hand as he finished the line.

Putting the yardstick back down and turning to her, she doesn’t move her hand, instead, softly moving to rest on his arm as she stands close to him. “How are you?”

He feels nervous for some reason, it’s not like she hasn’t been this close to him before. It’s just that she’s close and she smells wonderful and he wonders if her lips would be a better wake-up call than the coffee she brought.

He realizes he’s staring at her lips when he licks his own, “I’m good,” he furrows his brow and clears his throat with a nod.

She smirks at him, “how come you’re the only one still here? Hotch said it could wait till tomorrow?”

“I was waiting for you,” he admits, “but I got carried away setting this up, I never heard you come in?”

“Cause I didn’t,” she scrunches her nose slightly as she straightens her stance. “I saw you working hard and went right to get you a coffee.”

“You’re wonderful,” he blushes as the words slip out, trying his best to keep eye contact when all he wants to do is kiss her.

She pats his arm slightly as she backs up a little, grabbing her bag from where she set it on his desk. “I’m going to set up for the night, come talk to me before you leave?”

“Of course,” he says as she walks away, letting out a small sigh as he realizes just how badly he wants her.

He never gets to talk to her before he leaves, she’s on the phone when hotch comes storming in. Saying something about another body and making Reid leave with him. He’s busy for 3 days straight, thinking about her with every free thought he’s able to squeeze in.

He carries the rock from her in his pocket everywhere he goes; in his pants beside his keys, in his bag with his books, in his breast pocket, over his heart, behind a bulletproof vest. Feeling it press against his chest, a part of her keeping him safe where ever he went.

They finish the case with minimal damage, Spencer specifically making sure that Derek leaves all the doors on the hinges for Y/N’s sake, cleaning up any messes they make so she won’t have to hear about it over the phone. They all notice that he’s doing it for her, quietly appreciating the fact that Spencer is happy for a change, that there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes again.

He arrives back at Quantico 30 minutes before her shift starts. Everyone else is packing up for the day while he sits at his desk, reading to occupy the time before she comes in.

Only she doesn’t.

30 minutes pass and she’s nowhere to be seen, it’s only 9:02 by the time he starts to panic. Wondering if she’s okay, hoping she’s just in the elevator or grabbing a coffee that’s actually good, somewhere outside of the office.

“Reid,” he hears Hotch calling him from his office door. “She just called in, her grandmother passed away last night so she won't be in.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brow, looking at him with confusion. “How did you know?”

“Penelope,” he smiles. “She’s still here too, and she knows where Y/N lives.”

“It wouldn’t be weird to go see if she’s okay?”

Hotch just smiles at him again, “go see her, Reid.”

Getting her address from Penelope felt a little weird, but she writes it on a sticky note for him and he’s out the door before she can even pry into what he’s going to say. Which is good, because he doesn’t know yet.

It’s late, but he stops by the little rock store on his way to her house. Seeing the lights still on and the same man from before behind the counter.

“Welcome back,” he’s overly cheerful for it being so late. “How did she like them?”

“She likes the ones I’ve given her so far,” he smiles, looking over the wall himself this time for the right one.

Scanning past every emotion and affirmation known to man as he looked around, picking out a beautiful pink Rhodonite for healing grief, supposedly acting as a hug from emotional troubles. And a Rainbow Moonstone for inner peace, harmony and strength.

“She’s lost someone recently?” He asks as Spencer places them on the counter.

“Her grandmother,” he says softly. “These are good, right?”

“They’ll be perfect, we also have amethyst bracelets, they’re good for healing and drawing in positive energy,” he points towards the small display of bracelets. Small purple stones separated with small gold beads.

He picks up 2 of them, placing them on the counter as well.

“Is she still just a crush?”

Spencer laughs lightly, “unfortunately.”

“She might be more after this,” he smirks, ringing him up. “I’ll give you a 2 for one deal on everything, I have a feeling you’ll be in a lot.”

Spencer thanks him as he pays, picking out a small purple bag for the rocks and bracelet. Placing one on his own wrist before leaving. Also picking up some cookie dough ice cream and a card at the corner store just beside her apartment. Remembering all the times Penelope, JJ or Emily has mentioned it being the best ice cream for crying.

He takes a very deep breath before knocking on her door, hoping to every god out there that she doesn’t find this incredibly inappropriate and weird.

“Spencer?” He hears her voice before she even opens the door, looking out the peephole at him.

She whips the door open, eyes puffy and swollen as she looks at him in shock. She’s in a big sweater and shorts, tears dripping down her cheeks as she shakes her head at him.

“I thought you could use some cheering up?” He awkwardly smiles, holding the ice cream up for her to see.

She wraps her arms around his middle, burying her face against his coat. Still crying as she holds him, he holds her with his free hand, shushing her as he presses his cheek to her head.

She pulls back with a sniffle, “come in,” she offers with an arm out, ushering him inside the small room as she closes the door.

He takes his shoes off, handing her the ice cream so he can take off his coat and satchel too. “This isn’t weird right?”

“Not at all,” she laughs slightly through the awkwardness. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you care this much.”

“I brought something for you,” he says as he struggles to dig everything out of his pocket.

He hands her the card and the little purple bag, seeing the overwhelming glance grow on her face. Her eyes grew wide as he mouth opened, speechless.

She opened the card first, reading the passage about grief that was already provided. Dealing with grief was something Spencer knew too well, adding something a little special to the bottom of the card.

“To live in hearts we left behind is not to die,” -Thomas Campbell. As long as you remember her, with a smile on your face and love in your heart, she will always be with you ♥︎ Spencer

She wipes her tears with her forearm, placing the card on the counter beside the ice cream before she opens the bag. She pulls out the bracelet first, absolute shock on her face.

“Spencer?” Is all she can say, in a high squeak as she shakes her head at him.

“I didn’t want you to be sad,” he says softly, stepping into her space and placing a hand on her arm. “I love seeing you smile, and I thought this could help.

He takes the bracelet from her grasp and places it over her hand. Resting it on her wrist softly, straightening it out against her sweater as she notices the matching on over his shirt sleeve.

“Oh this is so cute,” she swoons. “thank you, really Spencer.”

“And there are some rocks for grief healing in there too, one is supposedly like an emotional hug which should heal the grief and sorrow, and the other is more for inner peace and harmony,” he rambles away, not wanting her to miss anything.

She pours the rocks from the bag, into her hand, looking them over silently with a smile, “they’ll look great on my desk.”

“The purple looks nice on you too,” he compliments her, watching her eyes drift up to him.

She places the rocks on the counter before wrapping her arms around him once more. This time he’s able to actually hold her back, tight as possible as he rubs his hand over her back.

She smells like home, clean laundry and happiness. She’s soft and warm, he holds her perfectly against his chest, like she was a missing puzzle piece that someone finally found under the table, she fits into his life like she was supposed to be there.

She kisses his cheek softly before she pulls back, causing him to pull her into a real kiss on impulse. Connecting their lips as she sighs into the contact, melting into his grasp as she kisses him back.

Her lips are soft, fitting between his own gently as she breathes him in. Her hands reach up to grip his cheeks, kissing him again and again, placing pecks to his lips and cheeks with her eyes closed as he giggles.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his lips, “for everything.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers back, kissing her one last time before she pulls away.

“I was actually about to smoke some weed on the fire escape and probably cry some more,” she laughs lightly. “would you like to join me?”

“I’ll stick with a bowl of ice cream,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Nice one,” she laughs as she opens the ice cream.

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t even get the reference you made,” she laughs lightly, “to get high you smoke a bowl, so…”

It makes him smile, “I'm a comedian part-time.”

He makes her laugh again, loving the sound of her giggle replacing the tears. “Why aren’t you this funny at work?”

He thinks about it for a little, watching her scoop the ice cream into two bowls, “it’s a little hard to make jokes when people's lives are on the line, I know everyone else does but I get too focused.”

“They probably wouldn’t appreciate your jokes even if you did make them,” she says as she handed him a bowl with a spoon. “They’re kind of mean to you, in a family way but it still sucks sometimes to overhear.”

She walks into the living area then, grabbing a few blankets and opening the window to the fire escape. Crawling out to sit on the ledge, waiting for him.

“I don’t mind it,” he says as he finally sits down beside her.

She places the blanket over their laps, both of them sitting criss-cross applesauce as they ate.

“Do you like your job?” She asks him, just like he once asked her.

“Most of the time,” he nodded as he got brain freeze. The cold air, the cold ice cream, everything that was catching up to him as he scrunched his face up at the feeling.

She laughs at him only a bit before she’s also attacked by the brain freeze, holding the vein in her neck as she chokes out another laugh, trying to warm up the blood going to her head so the pain would stop.

They’re both just a mess of giggles together, unable to say any words as they let it all out. She leans her head on his shoulder lightly as they calm down to just soft chuckles. He presses his cheek against her head.

“Thank you, Spencer,” it sounds like she’s crying a bit. “My grandma was a lovely woman, she’d be glad I’m laughing right now.”

He reached out a hand for her to hold over the blanket. She interlocked their fingers softly, both cold from holding their ice cream bowls.

“If she was anything like you, I’m sure she was the most wonderful woman,” he says softly, not intending to make her cry but having a feeling he might.

“Would you be interested in holding me on the couch while I cry?” She asked softly, tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

—

He’s late for work the next morning.

Waking up to the smell of coffee, opening his eyes to a strange view. He’s on a couch he doesn’t recognize in a room he doesn’t know too well.

Then he remembers, they ended up cuddled up on the couch. He wakes up to the memory of her on his chest, crying softly as they listened to some music, he ran his hand over her back while she went through it all, blessed to have his support.

He fell asleep under her at some point, waking up alone with a blanket laid over him. He sat up to see her in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a travel mug.

“Good, you’re awake,” she smiles at him. “Coffee is ready, I uh, I have this button-up shirt from a guy friend, if you wanted to wear that to work today? So they don’t think you stayed here?”

“That’s smart,” he replies as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Getting up, he uses the bathroom, changes and takes that coffee from her. He’s not expecting her to kiss him on the lips at the door, but she sends him off to work like an old housewife.

He doesn’t want to pull away from her, keeping her pressed against him as he leans in for 4 more kisses before she finally pushes him out into the hallway with a laugh, “get to work!”

“Fine,” he sighs, “are you going to be in tonight?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “funeral is in West Virginia next week, so I’ll be in until then.”

“I’ll see you later?”

She nods slightly with a soft smile, “you’ll be seeing a lot of me soon, Spencer.”

“Good,” he winks at her before heading down the hallway and towards the street entrance.

He sighs as he walks outside, resting his back against the apartment complex door, taking a moment to think about everything that just happened, the night of company and the wonderful send-off.

It was something he could get used to.

He rushes into the briefing room when he arrives at Quantico, sitting down with his coffee and pretending he wasn’t late. Listening carefully to JJ’s presentation of the case as he flips through everything he missed already.

“Wheels up in 30,” he heard Hotch say as he zoned back in. “Nice of you to join us, Reid.”

“I know that travel mug from somewhere,” Derek said as he stared at Spencer, who was taking a sip to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hmm?” He played dumb.

“That’s Y/N’s. She washes it every morning when she leaves to go home, I see her do it every morning,” his eyes open wide. “Holy shit.”

“Isn’t that the same tie and slacks from yesterday?” Emily teased him as well.

“Her grandma died, I brought her ice cream and slept on the couch okay?” He all but yelled, flailing his arms slightly so they’d all back off.

Derek reached his fist out for him to pound it, “good man.”

Then Penelope noticed the bracelet, “did she get you that?”

He sunk his hand into his pocket then, “no.”

“What?” Emily and JJ asked in unison, straining their necks to try and get a good look at what she was talking about.

He nervously held his arm out for them, showing them the purple bracelet resting over the sleeve of his shirt. “I got one for her too, it’s for healing and peace. It’s what she needs right now.”

“Oh, so you love her,” Derek smiles as he teases him. Making everyone else in the room swoon slightly.

“Okay and?”

“Oh my god!” Most of them shout at him, embarrassing him to no end. He was so glad she wasn’t at work this morning or else she would be able to hear this from her desk.

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi pries, asking what everyone else was thinking.

He scrunches his face, pushing his glasses up slightly as he clears his throat, “a few times.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” JJ kept the questions coming.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “Kinda weird to walk into her apartment while she cries to say ‘hey sorry about the death in your family, want to date me?’”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees, shrugging lightly. “At least she knows you like her now, it’s been what? 2 years?”

“2 years, 3 months, 17 days and 43 minutes,” he confirms with a small nod and pressed lips.

“Gross,” Derek teases him.

“The plane is leaving in 10 minutes,” Hotch cut into their fun.

Making them all gather their things and continue the interrogation in the elevator, and eventually on the plane, and in the police precinct. Even Penelope called him in the middle of everything to bug him about her.

The questions were never-ending, everyone wanted to know how they even started talking, who made the first move, how he plans to ask her out. They were relentless, he almost regretted admitting to anything.

They bug him all throughout the day, all the way until they’re arriving back at the BAU late that same night. He almost doesn’t want to go back to the bullpen and see her with all of them, knowing they were going to follow and say something.

She’s waiting in the hall when the elevator doors open, a pressed-lipped smile on her face, “bad news.”

“Another one?” Hotch sighs, “have Garcia send us the info. Be at the table in 10.” He pushes his way out of the elevator, passed them all as they stare at Y/N.

“Hi?” She awkwardly waves at them all, showing off the bracelet on her wrist.

“See ya, Spence,” JJ and Emily say as they matt his shoulder, dragging Derek and Rossi towards the bullpen doors.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for them softly, stepping into her space.

She wraps him up in a quick hug, keeping one arm around his waist as she guides him towards the bullpen, “it’s fine, they’re going to have to get used to us being together.”

“Together?” He repeats her words.

“I only cry on my boyfriend's shoulders, if you're up for the title?” She teases him softly, pinching his side as they walk towards the doors.

“Can I frame “Dr. Spencer Reid, Y/N’s boyfriend” beside my Ph.D.’s?” He keeps his hand on her shoulder, holding each other slightly as they walk towards her desk. He felt like one of those kids who wouldn’t let go of their girlfriend's hand in the school hallway, attached to her at the hip.

“I’ll make one for you while you’re gone,” she laughs lightly.

They stop at her desk where he sees all rocks he got her collecting on the shelf, as well as a cup of coffee and his favourite kind of donut.

“Thought you deserved something nice too,” she says as she nudges his side.

He kisses her on the cheek as a thank you, “you’re welcome,” she smiles to herself. A feeling of pride growing in both their chests.

“See you later?” He asks as he picks up the coffee and donut, walking away slowly as she smiles at him.

“Come home to me safely, Doctor Reid,” her voice is just loud enough for everyone in the briefing room, where everyone is waiting at the window, watching them, deciding to put on a show in return.

He stops on the steps to look at her softly, “I’d fight a thousand unsubs to come home to you.”

“I’ll leave the light on,” she blows a kiss at him, making him blush a deep red.

He waves, making his way up the steps and into the briefing room. A smile on his face, heart thumping in his chest, all the support in the world swarming around him as everyone patted him on the back.

That tiger’s eye really did bring him good luck and happiness, and her name was Y/N.

[spoopylay]

Bnha boys reacting to someone talking about their chubby crush pt.2

Summary: Mineta is talking shit about y/n’s body and the boys aren’t having it

Denki

You and the rest of class 1-A were in class just talking and waiting for the lesson to start.

Denki was about to walk up to you and give you a gift for helping him study for a test he did very well on.

The gift had a little note that he was also going to give to you. The note read, “thank you so much for helping me the other day y/n. I know I may not be the smartest tool in the shed but the years start coming and don’t stop coming, so before we run out of time would you like to be my girlfriend?” (Sero definitely helped him write it)

Haha All Star reference anyways...

Before he could tap you on the shoulder, he heard a nasty comment come out of Mineta’s mouth.

“How did y/n get into UA looking like THAT?! She’s not fit enough.

Denki was SHOOK

His face even showed it

He didn’t hesitate to use his quirk on him right after Mineta said that.

He didn’t care that he was going to short circuit, he won’t let anyone talk about his future girlfriend like that.

After he was done, you rushed over to help him because he’s told you about the struggles of short circuiting and so you found out different ways to help him heal.

Once he got better, he gave you the gift and said to think about it.

You read the note and laughed a bit but knew the point he was trying to get across.

After school you caught up to him and told him what you have to say.

“YES!! I will be girlfriend,” you said giving him a big hug.

Sero

Sero was kinda touchy with you because you were his crush. For example, he would always hug you from behind and “compare hands sizes” with you.

You were talking to Jiro until Sero came up from behind and gave you a hug.

“Good afternoon y/n.”

“Hey Sero.”

Then Jiro said, “you guys would be the perfect couple.”

You and Sero both let out an awkward laugh

The three of you were talking until Mineta commented on your body.

“Y/n should know by now that being skinny is way more beautiful than looking like that.”

The class went silent.

Sero looked over to Aizawa’s desk, Mr. Aizawa was asleep

In the blink of an eye Sero already had Mineta taped to the ceiling of the classroom.

He was up there with Mineta and gave him a little piece of advice

“Don’t you know not criticizing people for how they look would maybe score you a girlfriend. Oh who am I kidding, you couldn’t even score one even if you did take my piece of advice. Later grape head.”

Sero came back down from the ceiling and act like nothing happened.

At the end of the day, ran over to him to thank him.

“Oh it’s no problem y/n. Anything for you.”

That’s when he finally decided to ask you to be his girlfriend.

“Oh my god, yes ,” you excitedly said giving him a hug.

Kirishima

You and Kirishima were at the beach with the rest of the class.

You wore a pink one piece bathing suit and had a pair of pink shades to go with them (Mina wanted you to match her)

Kirishima of admiring you from afar because he didn’t want to seem like a creep.

But he couldn’t help but look at how you looked with your bathing suit clinging to your waist and stomach. He really just wanted to lay on top of you and have you play with his hair.

When you turned around and waved at him, his face was more red than his hair.

Then Mineta said, “y/n shouldn’t be wearing that ew.”

Kirishima thought that what he said wasn’t manly so he decided to teach him a lesson.

So when Mineta went in the water , Kirishima made his hair look like a shark fin and scared the shit out of him.

You were looking at what was happening and started laughing.

After he was done traumatizing Mineta he got out of the water and ran to where you were sitting.

You looked over to see Mineta still trying to look for the “shark”

“Don’t worry about him, he was being very unmanly.”

You then stood up to stretch your legs and get in the water until you were caught off guard from his kiss.

“I’m sorry y/n, I just couldn’t help it. You’re so pretty, would you like to be my girlfriend,” he said with a smile.

“Of course,” you said putting your hands around his neck.

“Then it’s official,” he said rubbing his hands up and down your hips.

Shinsou

Omg his hands 👀❤️

You two were sitting next to each other at lunch and sharing ideas for his hero suit.

He loved sitting next to you at lunch and hearing your amazing ideas and to be able to look at your squishy thighs

Then he heard Mineta say something hurtful.

“Y/n should really cut off a few if she wants to be pretty.”

Shinsou was the first to hear that and was angry.

“Hey Mineta, what’s 2+2,” asked Shinsou

“That’s 4 you du-,”

All of a sudden, Mineta was punching himself and then threw himself in a garbage can?

Shinsou turned back to you and kept admiring your chubby face.

After school when he was walking you back to your dorm, he held your hand and started blushing like crazy

“Y/n, I really like you and would like you to go out with me sometime. I understand if you don’t and-,”

You shushed him with your finger and then gave him a kiss.

“Shinsou, stop overthinking. I’d love to go out with you!”

[gotnofucks]

Colour Me Red

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Your boss is chasing you like the proverbial hound of hell, and one vibrant shade of red is going to be his undoing, and yours.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Oral sex, allusions to smut, suggestive talking, kinda workplace harassment but not really, boss and employee relationship, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is for my jaan Lexi’s 700 Challenge. Congratulations baby girl @bluemusickid​ , you deserve this and so so much more. Every day I live in awe of you and can only love you more. I’ve chosen the colour Red for this challenge.

Most people arrived at work early to impress their boss. You came early to avoid yours. Every morning was a race to dress up faster so that you could be out before he pulled up at your place to give you a ride. When you’d started working at the Avengers Compound, you thought your biggest problem would be alien attacks or spontaneous combustion. Yet, here you were, being pursued by your boss who was the very embodiment of the hounds of hell.

Captain Steve Rogers, for all his brilliance, was a man unaccustomed to being told no. At one word from him, agents would run in the field and fight a battle of their lives. He was respected and revered, his beautiful visage both an endearing and terrifying symbol. However, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone.

The first time you’d met him, Steve had taken one look at you and said, “I am going to fuck you”. You had gaped at him in disbelief, wondering if this was the true Captain America. You had almost gone back home, intent on finding another job but you needed the money and well, there were so many others around, how often would your paths cross with him?

Turns out, a lot. You had applied for the PR secretary position for Natasha, so imagine your surprise when you showed up for work and were told that you’ll be working for Steve Rogers. In retrospect, you should have quit that day, but the pay was far too good. You had ignored sleazy men before, how difficult could it be to ignore Steve’s advances?

From the very first day, Steve didn’t bother to hide his interest. He offered you a seat in his office, but only after you pointedly ignored his offer to sit on his lap. He had rolled his eyes playfully, explaining your role and duties before dismissing you.

“Walk slow, I want to have a good view of that ass.”

Months later now, you could say it was a well-versed routine. He would flirt with you and you’d kindly remind him about appropriate workplace practices. He would bring you flowers, and you’d pass it on to the old lady who sat behind the reception. You almost wanted to thank him, for it was because of him you’d become a pro at running in high heels.

Arranging your documents, you waited for Steve to arrive. He won’t be happy knowing he has a press conference today. You’d typed out his speech, he only needed to say it into the camera without looking constipated.

“You evaded me again today.” Steve greeted you, entering and taking his seat behind his desk. You met his eyes, unimpressed. He never gave up, did he?

“Good morning Captain Rogers.” You said with a smile, handing him the papers that he took with a wince.

“You don’t call me Captain Rogers in my dreams.” He casually said, going over the planned interview. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him the best you could. It would be a lie to say you didn’t find Steve attractive, but you were not about to sleep with your boss.

“Can you please stick to the script this time and not call the government a piece of shit organization who are greedy, racist, bigots?” You asked, not wanting another disaster management situation on your hands.

“Spot me the lie darling.” Steve said, smiling. He threw the papers on the desk, leaning back to look at you with a fond look in his eyes. “You need to let me drive you here someday. Or I’m gonna camp outside your house so you can’t run away.”

You flush, averting your gaze. God, why did he need to be so beautiful with such gorgeous eyes?

“Can you give it a rest until the press conference? I have a lot on my hands.” You said, rubbing your temples tiredly. Steve frowned, his eyes lingering over the dark circles under your eyes before getting up and coming around the desk to stand behind you, his large hands gently taking your shoulders and kneading. A soft moan escaped you, your bunched muscles relaxing under his touch.

You leaned back farther, your head meeting his firm stomach. His fingers splayed over your collarbones, heal of the hand pressing into the soft juncture where your neck met the shoulder. Groaning, you relaxed yourself, letting Steve massage the stiffness out of your body. Slowly, he leaned down, mouth right next to your ear.

“Imagine the kind of sounds you’ll make when you’re under me.” He breathed, pressing the softest of kisses on your cheek. Your eyes widened and you shot up, putting some distance between you. Steve grinned, taking in your labored breath with interest.

“Captain Rogers” You warned, taking a step back when he took one towards you.

“Say my name.” He demanded, walking purposely towards you until you crashed against the wall. Leisurely closing the distance between you both, he caged you with his hands, leaning in close. You gulped as he got into your space, his breath fanning over your heated cheeks and eyes turning liquid.

“This is inappropriate.” You said, blinking and looking away. You were scared his super senses would smell the arousal pooling between your thighs, warming your core. Steve chuckled, dipping his head as if to kiss you but stopping short.

“I’ll let it go today, since you’ll be screaming it soon enough. Why don’t you go and edit the speech, hmm? I want that part about thanking the government for their cooperation struck.” He smelled like sin, the musky aftershave he always wore clinging to your pores and infusing in your scent.

Smiling a little at the deer caught in the headlights look in your eyes, Steve pushed away from you and flicked your forehead playfully. He turned and walked back to his desk, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as your stumbled out of his office after hastily collecting your papers. Every time you thought you’d gotten used to his advances, Steve would reduce you to a bundle of nerves with a few well chosen words.

Persistent little fucker.

If he didn’t show up in five more minutes, you’ll have a coronary. The reporters were already waiting for him, and you still needed to debrief Steve about the changes you had made. Left to his own devices, he’d unapologetically curse the government out and call out their crap with Bucky and Sam cheering from the sidelines. Again. That had been a nightmare.

“Where is he?” Jacob asked. He looked frazzled, looking worriedly at Tony from across the room. His boss was just as likely as yours to cause a scandal during a press conference and when they sat together, a shit storm was definitely on its way.

“I have no fucking idea!” You swore, running a hand through your hair and hoping your makeup hadn’t run off. You’d be sitting at the podium beside Steve, ready to kick his shin at the first moment he went off script. Jacob shot you a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder, his hairline glittering with sweat.

“One day I’ll quit this job and be a professional troll just to roast these assholes. Oh god, where the hell is he?” You bemoaned.

“Right here.”

You turn around, finding Steve striding towards you. The frustration in your eyes melted as you looked him over, the crisp navy blue suit fitting his body in a way that saliva pooled under your tongue. Shaking your head, you wagged a finger at him, trying your best to give him an angry frown instead of fuck me eyes.

“You’re the reason I’ll get greys so early in my life.” You scolded. Steve, however, lost his smirk. His eyes were trained hard on you, eyebrows turning in as if deeply disappointed. When his eyes met yours, you unconsciously stepped back and stumbled into Jacob. You knew Steve had a temper, but that anger had never been directed so harshly at you before.

“What the fuck?” He hissed from between clenched teeth. You blinked in surprise, completely at a loss of words about why he was suddenly so angry. You exchanged a bemused look with Jacob who was inching away from you, eager to be out of sight of the fire that was so obviously burning in the captain’s eyes.

Gulping nervously, you peered at him and cleared your throat. “Captain Rogers?” Your voice was soft and confused, and yet it only seemed to incense Steve more. He made a deep rumbling sound in his chest before grabbing you by your arm and pulling you away with him. You protested, trying to steer him back towards the conference but you were no match for his strength. He remained silent as you tried to loosen his grip on your arm, alarm evident in your voice at this unexpected aggression.

He brough you back to his office, pushing you in before he shut the door with a loud bang that would be sure to scare off anyone who might have wanted to step in and save you. Facing him in bewilderment, you opened your mouth to ask him what the fuck had gotten into him when he raised a hand in warning.

“If I hear ‘Captain Rogers’ pass one more time from your lips, I’ll shut you up in a way that will leave your throat sore for days.” He growled. Your breath hitched, fear and thrill spreading like venom through your blood as he prowled towards you, completely masculine and yet feline in his approach. Your legs refused to follow your command to move away and stayed rooted to their spot, trembling when Steve was standing right before you.

“Say my name.” He whispered. You licked your lips, eyes locked with his as his name passed your lips for the first time ever.

“Steve”

It was barely audible and yet you could see the shiver that ran down Steve’s body, a victorious growl expelled from his throat and suddenly you were pulled flush to his chest, his lips enveloping yours and branding a searing kiss on your lips. You gasped into his mouth, clutching his shoulders to keep steady on your legs that had turned to jelly.

“You dare,” Steve said, pulling away to glare at you, “you dare wear that shade of sin on your mouth in front of the world?”

It took you a moment, brain still in shock from the intimate embrace you’d just came out from when you registered what he said. Taking in his words along with the red that bled from your mouth to his, you sputtered in indignation.

“Did you drag me in here because I wore a red lipstick?!” You asked, slapping his chest to push him away. Steve, unhappy with your ire, pulled you closer still and slowly traced the curve of your bottom lip, pulling back his thumb to show you your lipstick that sat in stark contrast to his pale skin.

“My girl doesn’t go out looking like this in front of the world.” He countered. You scowled, twisting in his hold so you could knock some sense into the sexist bastard.

“I won’t be policed by somebody who regularly wear three sizes too small t-shirts to fuck with my ovulation cycle deliberately. And what the fuck does it mean ‘looking like this’? What do I look like to you Captain Rogers?” You sassed, breathing heavily.

Steve fisted your chair, tilting your head back as he possessively ran his nose down your neck and sniffed appetitively. “Looking like this, like the forbidden fruit that caused man to fall. You are already my undoing, do you wish to cause a war looking as tempting as this?”

Anger that had boiled in your gut disappeared as if doused by water. Maybe you were still pissed at being treated this way, but the heat that simmered deep in your bones overpowered it. His words set your heart on fire, a raging desire you rarely let yourself feel near him sending you straight into his arms, your head buried in his massive chest that cradled you close. Oh so close.

“There are ten different things I have to say to you about what just happened here, but I’ll do it later when my sanity has returned to me.” You said and Steve chuckled, his arms around you strong like boulders.

“If my kisses alone drove you insane, you’ll be a puddle of dumb mess after I’m done with you.” He huskily whispered in your ear and your core pulsed, a warm gush flooding your panties. This man would be the death of you. For months you’d fought the urge to let him fuck you on his desk and in the elevator, trying your best to overlook this eye fucks and flirting only to end up in his arms, right where he had prophesized you belong the moment he clapped eyes on you.

You didn’t believe in destiny, but then again Steve Rogers didn’t need a divine force to interfere on his behalf to get him what he wants. This moment had been building for a while now, like a volcano threatening to erupt until it finally did, encasing those close to it in scalding layers of passion and sin and love.

“I love this shade but just this once, I’ll make an exception. I’ll wipe it off.” You conceded. This was not you accepting defeat, just a compromise. There was much left to talk about and discuss, but you had a hoard of reporters waiting for the good captain to make his big speech.

You reached for the napkins on his desk, intent in quickly wiping your lipstick off when Steve grabbed you to himself again, cupping your face.

“Oh no honey, that trace of desire won’t stain a piece of paper. The only place its going to be is smeared on my cock. On your knees.” He ordered, very much like he did on the field. And yet, the order was as much a request. You could say no and drag him to the conference right now with no consequences. He was the same man who came by every morning to give you a ride despite knowing you’d already have left. He was the same man who cheekily rolled his eyes when you snubbed his affections, and yet never said a mean word to you. What would it feel like, marking this exemplary man with your colour, knowing as he walked that he was coloured in you?

You sank to the floor, hands already working to free his cock from the confines of his pants. Steve looked at you, letting you do everything, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Peering up at him, you marveled at the fact that it took so long to have you here like this.

“You could launch a thousand ships even on your knees.” He said.

Your lips pressed against the head of his cock, kissing him delicately. Steve jerked at the first touch, digging his fingers in your flesh when you licked him from head to base, suckling lightly, teasingly. You adored the noises that escaped him, loving that he didn’t even think of hiding them from you. When it came to desire, Steve Rogers didn’t mince his words.

His cock was beautiful, silken and hard in your fist and on your tongue. He tasted like the sea after a storm, salty and electric, dangerous and beautiful. Loving him this way came easy, and though you hadn’t had much experience with cocks as big as his, you were determined to show him your feelings with a gusto. Running your tongue along his slit with an impish grin, you swallowed him deep, humming to send vibrations up his length. Had your mouth not been stretched around him, you would have smiled wide at the curse he just yelled.

Picking up your pace, you bobbed your head and rolled his balls, getting high on his taste and sounds as he came undone in your mouth, spilling his essence that went thickly down your throat and ended with a moan from both of you. Pulling away, you saw his member streaked with the red traces of your lipstick and an animalistic possessiveness swelled in your chest. You marked him.

Steve helped you stand up, kissing you deep as he seemed unable to utter anything at the moment. You reveled in his touch, holding him close and wiping the stray tear that was lingering at the corner of your eye.

“You know its love, don’t you?” He asked you softly, the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.

Was this love? Was it love when you’d secretly smile at his fixation with you? Was it love that you always kept a flower from his bouquets before passing it on to the old lady? Was it love when you could read his tiredness in the lines of his forehead and make his coffee stronger? Maybe it was. Maybe it was love because there was no other way you’d have went on your knees to worship a man. Unknowingly, in accepting every ‘no’ you threw his way, he had earned your ‘yes’. In forsaking the access to your body, you had gifted him your heart. Holding his gaze, you pressed your lips to his palm, smiling.

“It is love.”

“Mr. Stark, where is Captain Rogers?” A reporter asked. “Wasn’t he supposed to be a part of this conference?”

Jacob groaned, kicking Tony’s shin repeatedly to no avail. He wished he could slap a hand on his boss’s mouth and drag him away, because the glint in Tony’s eyes meant that he would be working damage control for the next coming weeks.

“Rogers, you ask?” Tony said grinning, his face alight in mischief. “Friday just gave me some million dollar worth information on that, and I am proud to announce to the public that the world’s oldest virgin just got his dick wet.”

Banging his head on the desk in the view of the clambering reporters, Jacob cursed you and your libido that had ruined him.

“Why couldn’t they wait until after the conference?” He moaned, jumping out and almost tackling Tony who was about to give the media some ‘video proof’. “Oh no you don’t Mr. Stark, you sir are on time out. I’ll be reporting you to Miss Potts!”

[alrightberries]

“may i?”

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff & angst.  ❈ word count: 8k

❈ summary: you’re the medic assigned to take care of captain levi as he heals from the explosion. you’re also the only person he tolerates.

alternatively: in which you create prosthetics for humanity’s most war torn soldier.

❈ trigger warnings: manga spoliers. profanity. mentions of violence, blood, gore, and death. mentions of sexual themes.

a/n: levi’s kinda ooc bc i couldn’t write the progress of his relationship with reader without making it longer than it already is. also this is medically inaccurate (re: healing time of broken bones and amputations) for the sake of the plot so pls no one throw hands. 

Levi doesn't like looking at mirrors.

There was no tragic backstory behind his distaste for the reflective surface, no deeper meaning or hidden symbolism as one would expect from a man with his past. The reason behind it was simple: he just saw no reason to.

He wasn't vain, wasn't too concerned about his face, didn't care much to look at his physical appearance aside from when he had to cut his hair or get ready for the day to look presentable to his comrades. He knew he was attractive, and effortlessly so. The little letters and gifts he’d received from fans and admirers proved as much, and his title of “Humanity’s Strongest” only added to the appeal. Really, there was no reason for him to always be looking into a mirror.

But now... Levi simply couldn’t understand why that mindset had vanished. It was replaced with the fervor to always be staring at his own reflection— not out of vanity but out of disgust.

The disgust of staring at his mutilated face.

He warily lifts up the small mirror he held in his hand, features contorting into a grimace at the man staring back at him. Scars and cuts littered his cheeks— some deeper than others, but none as terrible as the long jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face. It started from his forehead and ended at his bottom lip, held together by ugly black stitches the medics had hurriedly sewn on him the second he got back to the base. His right eye was split in half, completely useless, completely blind; held together by the same black stitches that donned the ugliest scar of all.

And Levi couldn’t help but think that this man was hideous.

He was hideous.

Levi reaches out with his right hand to touch his scars out of habit. He feels his heart tighten when he realizes there’s only air where his fingers should be and he nearly breaks the small mirror he held in his good hand from how hard he was squeezing it. 

The mirror makes a gentle clink as he sets it down onto the mahogany of his desk. Bitterly, he stares at his three fingered right hand. His pointer and middle finger were gone, nothing but pathetic stumps protruding from his knuckles where they used to be. It was still covered in bandages and a makeshift brace so he wouldn’t strain himself when he moved, but he knew it was useless. He couldn’t move those stumps even if he tried.

He probably should’ve been thankful to have made it out of that explosion alive— not unscathed, but alive nonetheless. Though Hange had tried cheering him up (“Look on the bright side, we can wear matching eyepatches now!”) he simply couldn’t find it in himself to celebrate coming back so... useless. 

His writing was as legible as chicken scratches. His right eye spasmed in pain every time he blinked. He couldn’t even try to relearn how to use the ODM gear with his new circumstance, and he mentally curses out his orders to stay put and heal.

Too many things were lost, too many people, too many lives.

All because of that damned explosion.

All because of that damned bearded bastard.

Levi is pulled from his thoughts when three soft knocks reverberate throughout his otherwise quiet office, and he rushes to put his eyepatch on and hide the mirror in his desk drawer. He attempts to sit in what he hopes was a seemingly ‘professional’ position but his stiffness gives away his discomfort. 

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

He feels himself release a breath he didn’t even know he was holding once he hears the voice. Your voice. 

“Come in.”

The wooden door creaks open before it closes with a soft click, floorboards making minuscule sounds at the weight as you make your way to his desk. Levi pretends to look busy as his good eye scans the document he held in his hand. 

The sound of porcelain clinking against porcelain grabs his attention.

“Brought you tea.” You murmured. “I figured it won’t be up to your standards again but I did try my best.”

Levi still doesn’t look up as you set the tray down on his desk, and his good hand reaches for the steaming cup to take a small sip. His eye twitches at the taste.

“If you were going to bring me shit tea anyway then why bother.”

He hears a gentle chuckle but doesn’t see the way you smile at his contradictory words and actions. He made no move to throw the “shit tea” away, something he was infamous for with teas that didn’t meet his standards. Instead, he keeps sipping, gently placing the cup down onto his table once he finished.

“I thought that maybe distracting you with terrible tea would keep your mind off me changing your bandages.” You explained, and Levi nods but doesn’t speak. When silence once again filled the room, interrupted only by the occasional crumple of documents you knew he wasn’t reading, you take it as your cue to pick up your pen and clipboard to start the checkup.

“Have you felt any discomfort or pain in any of your extremities such as your right eye or your right hand?”

“No.”

“Have you felt any throbbing or other sensations in any part of your body?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any fevers, headaches, dizziness, or sudden spasms in any part of your body?”

“No.”

He hears you set your clipboard down and his skin tingles from your doubtful stare. He didn’t have to look to know it was there. He risks a glimpse at the papers attached to the wooden board in your hands but just as he expected, you didn’t write down any of his answers.

“Have you lied to any or all of the questions I’ve asked during your routine checkup for today?”

“...yes.”

A soft sigh escape through your nose and your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. “Captain, lying to your medic won’t get you to the battlefield faster. You’re of no use to anyone when you’re injured.”

Levi clicks his tongue at your reply but he holds his smart ass comments back. He knew you were right, and it infuriated him so much.

“Fine,” he grits out. “My right eye’s been twitching all day. The fucking stumps on my right hand don’t feel like stumps. It feels like I still have fingers there, and I know it’s complete bullshit since they were lying next to my face when they got blown off.”

His angry glance finally lands on you. “That the answer you were looking for, oh medic of mine?”

It was now your turn to click your tongue. “Not quite,” you mumble, writing down his answers onto the file in your hands. “Feeling your missing limbs even after they’re amputated is normal. It’s called phantom touch.”

You place the clipboard back onto his desk and reach into your pockets, pulling out pristine white gloves before gingerly putting them on.

“Your right eye still spasming though, that’s concerning.” You add. Your hands slowly reach out to his face, and Levi momentarily flinches away out of habit. But you made no move to touch him.

He eyes you warily, tense muscles relaxing even just the slightest as he sees your gentle stare.

“May I?” You ask softly, a caring smile on your face.

Levi only nods, not trusting his words, and he once again tenses up as he feels your hands unbuckle the leather straps of his eyepatch before setting it down onto his table. He keeps his bad eye shut.

Your hands are gentle as you touch his face, touch nothing but a soft caress in such a way that his tender stitches felt no pain. Your eyes are focused on his stitches, lacking any judgement or ill will, and Levi’s suddenly aware of how close you actually were to his face.

Your eyes were beautiful, he noticed. They always were. The little furrow in your eyebrows as you concentrated was cute, and the soft caress of your hands on his cheeks as you inspected his face felt... nice, and dare he even say relaxing. Momentarily, when he finally lets himself adjust to the atmosphere, he lets his tense muscles ease.

“Can you open your right eye, Levi?”

“Y-yeah.”

FUCK.

What the fuck.

Did he just fucking stutter?

Levi’s surprise is only painted on his face for a few mere seconds before he schools his expression back to one of stoicness and neutrality, and he prays to all the existing gods he knew of that you wouldn’t notice.

He risks another glance at you. One of your eyebrows is arched and the corner of your lip is quirked up in a small smirk, but you dared not comment on the captain’s speech mishap.

Fuck. So you did notice.

Before he could try to save face by dishing out some bullshit reprimand of being disrespectful for calling him by his name and not his title, the words die on his tongue as you lean in impossibly close and oh god your noses were almost touching, your eyes are even more beautiful up close, and what the fuck is—

“Captain,” you repeat. “Can you open your right eye please?”

Oh, right.

He doesn’t speak as he does what he was told. He feels his eye open but no vision comes to his senses. 

“It’s looking... not so good.” He hears you mumble, face contorted into one of concern. “It’s actually looking pretty bad.”

Levi scoffs. “Not one to beat around the bush, are you.”

You roll your eyes, the small smile once again returning to your lips.

“How long have you been keeping the eyepatch on?” You ask. Your hands are holding his head in place now, grasp a little more firm but not enough to hurt.

“An hour at most.”

“Are you lying again?”

He sighs. “Yes.”

You nod but made no further comment, leaning back to grab the clipboard once more to write down your observations. 

“So,” you start. “Are you going to tell me the truth or do I have to poke your bad eye?”

Levi’s lips turn into a frown at the notion. “I’ve kept it on the entire day. And I know you’re probably lying about poking my eye, but in case you’re not, no. I do not want you poking my eye.”

You nod your head again, writing more things down onto your little clipboard.

“You should let it breathe. Keep it on for an hour or two at most but take it off when you sleep. Too much friction with the eyepatch might cause irritation.”

As the consultation draws on, Levi tries (keyword: tries) to be as honest as he could. Not that he could be dishonest when you were so good at snooping out his lies, though. You were already used to his stubbornness.

He wasn’t lying, however, when he tells himself that his heartbeat did not speed up when your hands gently held his own as you changed his bandages and cleaned his amputation; he wasn’t lying when he tells himself that the tips of his ears were not burning a bright red, cheeks flushed as you asked him to take off his shirt; and he definitely wasn’t lying when he tells himself that his dick did not twitch in his pants when your hands caressed his abdomen and back, accidentally hitting sweet spots he didn’t even know existed, to inspect his still purple bruises and healing ribs.

Yeah, he definitely was not lying.

“Okay, I think we’re done for today.” You say cheerfully. “I’ll be back same time tomorrow for another checkup.”

He glances up as he finishes buttoning the last buttons on his shirt. The gloves from your hands are taken off and tucked back into your pockets, and you hand him a small vial full of pills.

“Take one of these, twice a day at most, whenever you feel pain in your right eye.”

“I’m not feeling any—“

“Sure you’re not.” You cut him off with a smile. “I believe you. But feel free to contact me for any pain or discomfort you feel at any time of the day. I’ll be more than glad to find you.”

Levi says nothing, opting to instead stare at you as you gather the now empty teacup and kettle, placing them back onto the tray along with your clipboard and pen.

“Oh, by the way.” You speak, walking towards the door and opening it. You don’t spare him another glance as you finish your sentence. “I don’t think I can prescribe any pills to lessen blood flow to your dick.”

The door shuts with a soft click behind you, and Levi’s momentarily mortified as he processes your words. He risks yet another glance, this time down to his lap.

Shit, he thinks before he sighs. His hands readjust the hard-on in his pants.

Nothing goes past your observant eyes.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi doesn’t bother to look busy like he did last week, you noticed, because this time he was actually busy. Which was odd considering he was taken off paperwork duty until he could write again.

“What’re you up to?” You ask, setting the tray down onto his desk and pouring him a cup of tea. Your eyes curiously glance at the papers scattered about his usually clean desk, each filled with indiscernible writings of his name.

“Trying to write. I’m useless until I can.” He mumbles before he scoffs. “This would be easier if I had all my fingers.”

You nod along to his replies yet made no move to stop him. You picked up your pen and clipboard to write things down as well.

“You’re not supposed to be using your right hand, your amputation is still too tender.”

“Tch, what do you expect me to do then?”

“Uh... use your non-injured, complete left hand?”

Levi blinks at your words, and he has half a mind to slap his forehead for being dumb and not thinking of that. Which he undoubtedly would’ve done had you not pushed the steaming cup of tea closer to his sitting form.

“Have some tea. You look like you’re about to pop a vein.”

Your smart remark is met with silence and a steely glare, and surprisingly, as Levi drank the tea you prepared, he notices it’s not downright terrible.

“Your brew’s better.” 

“Yeah. I finally took your advice of using a thermometer to get ‘the perfect temperature’ after you complained about my ‘shitty tea’ for the nth time that week.”

Levi hides his little smirk behind the teacup, silently reveling in his small triumph before setting it down. From the corner of his eye, he notices you eyeing something, and his heart drops as his gaze follows your own.

The mirror. He forgot to hide the mirror.

Discreetly (or as discreet as he could) he takes the mirror and shoves it back into his desk drawer. You had many questions, that much he knew, but he was thankful when you didn’t push it further.

“Shall we begin?” You ask instead.

“Yeah.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi’s been trying to write again, you surmised, as you glanced at his focused eyes and the tenseness of his shoulders. Scattered papers still littered his desk and he was still trying to write his name. This time though, you were relieved when you saw he was using his left hand.

“Finally took my advice?” You asked, pouring him a cup of tea.

“Regretting it.” He doesn’t look up from his task as he answers, something you noticed he always did. “It’s been three days since I took your advice and my handwriting’s shittier than it was then.”

You smile, hand reaching out to hold his incomplete one that was clenched into a fist on the desk. He immediately stops writing, opting to instead stare at your hand atop his before glancing up at you.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you relax. You might tear your stitches.”

He feels you give his hand a gentle squeeze, and the warmth of your hand is suddenly gone from his own. You reach for the cup of tea you prepared, and he wills his cheeks to not show his blush at the small gesture. You slide the teacup across the table.

“What makes you think holding my hand will make me relax?” He asks snarkily. He reaches for the tea with his good hand.

“Are you relaxed?”

Levi ponders the question in his mind, noticing how his muscles were no longer tense, his shoulders were now slumped down, and his eyebrows were no longer scrunched. He sips the tea.

“Your brew’s still shit.” He replies instead.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I came here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Your head peaks out from behind his door as you enter, closing it with your foot and making your way to his desk. You were no longer surprised when you saw him still writing and scribbling messily at his desk as he’s done for days now, and you discreetly eye the papers as you pour him his tea.

“You don’t have to keep bringing me tea.” He comments, still focused on writing.

“I know.” You reply. “But how am I going to perfect your brew if I don’t practice?”

Levi glances up, and he raises his eyebrow as he sees you sat on his table, a cheeky grin on your face. He makes no move to scold you for being so casual in his office and instead reaches out to take a sip of the tea. He notices your expectant eyes, the grin on your face widening as he nods in approval.

“Your tea’s not bad today.”

“Really?! You think it’s good?”

“I said not bad, I didn’t say it was good.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

The first thing you noticed as you entered Levi’s office was, of course, the scattered paper around his desk, face focused as he continued to practice his writing. The second thing you noticed was that he was no longer using his left hand.

“It’s barely been two weeks. Did you give up already?” You ask as you pour his tea.

“I write better with my right hand.” He simply replies, not even glancing up as you slide him the beverage. He uses his good hand to reach out for the cup, silently preparing his tongue for another unpleasant attack.

He takes a sip and his eyebrows shoot up from surprise. The tea was... delicious, absolutely delicious, and Levi couldn’t find anything to complain about. The temperature was right, it wasn’t too bitter but wasn’t too sweet, and the aroma was delectable. He takes a sip once more to double check if his taste buds were deceiving him, but the second sip was just as good as the last.

His suspicious eye makes contact with yours, a shit eating grin painted on your face as you eagerly awaited his feedback. The porcelain makes a sound as he sets it down.

“You bought this from the tea shop across the barracks. That’s cheating.”

“For fuck’s sake!”

Three soft knocks reverberate through the door to Levi’s office. The captain hastily hides the papers with your name scribbled on, shoving them inside his desk drawer. A shiny glint catches his eye before he could close the shelf and he pauses as he realizes it was his mirror. He hadn’t taken it out in a while. He was always too distracted with criticizing your piss poor tea to even think about his appearance.

“Name and business.” He calls out, still eyeing the shiny object.

“Hange Zoe. Y/N asked me to do your daily checkup.”

Levi's eyes widened, heartbeat stopping for a second as he heard Hange’s voice. Where were you?

“Come in.” He closes the drawer as the door opens and Hange walks in. 

Levi couldn’t help but notice that he was becoming uncomfortable the closer his friend got; skin prickling, hands sweating, his collar feeling a little too tight. Little by little getting more conscious of himself as Hange walked closer.

Was this what insecurity felt like?

He briefly wonders why he didn’t feel it with you, but his mind answers him with a simple fact: you were the only person who’s seen him mangled and bruised, and each time, you showed nothing but gentleness and care. Yet even with this knowledge, the notion that a person other than you would be doing his checkup today didn’t sit right with him.

He pushes his discomfort to the back of his mind, telling himself to remain objective. But it didn’t stop him from subconsciously adjusting his eyepatch and hiding his incomplete hand underneath the desk. He eyes the tray in Hange’s hands, spotting the kettle and teacup.

“I don’t want your shitty tea.”

Hange doesn’t look up as they pour him a cup, humming a tune Levi doesn’t recognize as they hand him the warm beverage.

“It’s not my shitty tea.” They reply. “It’s Y/N’s shitty tea. They made you a batch before they left for the mission.”

Levi’s good hand pauses for a brief second as he reaches for the cup, mind still processing the fact that Hange said Y/N and mission. You hadn’t mentioned anything to him, and since he wasn’t allowed paperwork duty until he could write legibly, he wasn’t aware of any missions.

“I see.” He takes a sip, and he immediately squints his eyes in doubt once his tongue caught taste of the flavor. “This isn’t Y/N’s tea.”

Hange looks up from the clipboard they were writing on, eyebrows are arched in curiosity. “What?”

“This isn’t Y/N’s tea. This is from the tea shop down the road.”

Hange’s confused face stays still for a few seconds, silently assessing whether Levi was being serious or not. A smile cracks on their face, turning into a grin as small chuckles left their lips, before finally turning into full blown laughter. The captain waits for the eccentric soldier to stop cackling and start explaining, but Hange’s answer only serves to confuse him more.

“Nice try, shorty. You crack me up.”

Levi ignores the remark about his height. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N owns the tea shop down the road. Made the recipe for the black tea you love so much, even.”

The captain’s good eye twitches, and if Hange notices, they don't comment. Levi takes a sip of the tea once more, a little more doubtful this time, before sighing in content as the drink makes its way down his throat.

“Why did Y/N go on the mission? I thought they were to be my caretaker until further notice.” He chooses to ask, placing the cup down and pretending to busy himself as he absentmindedly starts practicing his writing.

“Y/N is our topic medic, their skills are more valuable on the battlefield than in an office with you.” They reply, and the captain pretends that the truthfulness of the statement doesn’t sting the slightest.

“Besides,” Hange pulls out white gloves from their pockets, sliding the cloth over their hands to prepare for the checkup. “Y/N personally asked to be reassigned.”

Levi sputters and chokes on his tea at the sudden revelation, and he feels Hange’s hand patting his back as he tries to compose himself. You asked to be reassigned? But why?

“Why?” He manages to choke out before once more descending into a coughing fit. Hange silently hands him a napkin.

“They didn’t say.”

Perhaps you were done with his incessant criticizing of your tea making skills (if so, then why’d you keep brewing him a crappy batch? Clearly you could’ve made good tea whenever you wanted.) Perhaps you grew tired of watching over him everyday when you could’ve been attending to more injured soldiers in the medical wing or the battlefield. Or perhaps you felt a little cooped up in the office with him, hating that you were confined when you could’ve gone on missions to help the wounded.

Whatever your reason may be, Levi finally gets himself to stop coughing and wipes his mouth. Any questions he had, he would ask you. For now, he pushes his feelings to the back of his mind to ask a more important question.

“Why are you here and not on the expedition, Commander?”

Hange shrugs.

“I wanted to bond over eyepatches with you.”

Levi was trying, okay? He was really trying.

But god, the new caretaker assigned to him was nothing short of a complete and utter noob. His bandages were always either too loose or too tight, his touches every time he tried to inspect Levi’s scars were always an ironclad grip, and worst of all, his tea was pure and utter shit.

“Watch it!” Levi barks, and his caretaker jumps about two feet away from him at his yell. “What’re you trying to do?! Are you inspecting my broken ribs or trying to give me a broken rib?”

Oh, that too. His caretaker was the hands on type, something Levi wouldn’t have minded if not for the fact that his caretaker was also heavy-handed, and Levi had had enough of this bullshit.

“Stop it, just stop. Get out of my office, right now, and find me a new caretaker.”

“B-but, Captain, there’s no one else who can—“

His caretaker is cut off when he makes eye contact with the enraged captain. Levi’s eyebrows were knitted together in anger, and the glare on his left eye was nothing short of terrifying. The fact that he only had one good eye left did nothing to lessen the intimidation of his glare; if anything, it made it even more intimidating.

“I will not repeat my order. Go.”

The boy in front of him nods nervously, head bowed down and metaphorical tail tucked between his legs as he quickly scurries out of the room. Once Levi hears the soft click of the door shutting, he takes a deep breath and lets his body slump into his chair.

That was the fifth caretaker he’d kicked out this month. He wasn’t picky, he tells himself; he just had standards. Standards that apparently these damned amateurs they kept sending him couldn’t meet.

Briefly, his conscience contradicts him; the image of a certain top medic popping in his mind, one that he hadn’t spoken to in almost a month since they dropped him out of the blue. Maybe, just maybe, he was being picky. With a dash of passive aggressive and a sprinkle of butthurt. But Levi quickly brushes that thought aside when he remembers the incompetence of all his recent caretakers.

That was definitely it. He wasn’t petty, all his caretakers were simply idiots.

The captain hears three loud knocks on his wooden door, and he grits his teeth as he mentally prepares himself for whatever fuckery the clown caretaker they assigned to him was about to do this time. True to his words, Levi did end up breaking a rib from how heavy handed the last one was, and though he knew it was partially because his body was still quite fragile, it didn’t hurt his request for a new medic.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here to do your daily checkup.”

Levi feels his eyes widen and heart speed up, and he once again rushes to hide all the papers scribbled with your name as he shoves them into his desk drawer. He composes himself, trying to appear uninterested and professional as he speaks.

“Come in.”

The door squeaks open and Levi doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes soften and his shoulders slump in relief as he sees the familiar sight of you. A soft smile dawned on your face as you gently kicked the door close, walking towards his desk and setting down the tray you held in your hands.

“Heard you fired everybody who came after me.” You mused, eyes teasing as you poured him a cup of tea. He didn’t think he’d miss someone pouring him a cup of tea as much as he did now.

“Their tea was shit.” He replies, taking a sip of the warm beverage and holding back his sputter at the god awful taste. “Yours is too.”

You chuckle, picking up the clipboard and pen to start writing for today’s checkup. “Can’t help that I suck at brewing tea.”

“You don’t have to keep making me shit tea anymore. The secret’s out.”

You freeze in your spot, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before you nervously clear your throat. Levi definitely noticed.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know you own the tea shop, Y/N. Stop lying.”

You let out an irritated sigh. “Hange told you, didn’t they?”

“Yep.” He replies, popping the ‘p’.

I’m going to fucking kill Hange, you think to yourself, silently gathering your composure once more. Levi watches you intently, continuing to sip on the terrible tea before deciding that he’d assaulted his taste buds enough and placing it down.

“Why’d you do it?” You hear him ask. “And don’t lie to me. You’re not the only one who’s gotten better at spotting lies.”

Why’d you brew shitty him tea? Is he that affected by it?

Your reply was already on the tip of your tongue, head glancing up from your clipboard to say your answer. But your words don’t come out and your mind suddenly cleared when you saw the look in his eye.

Levi’s eyes were nothing short of gorgeous; a beautiful gunmetal gray with a gaze deadly enough to kill a man with one mere look. But right now, even though they were schooled into his usual look of disinterest, you could see him... wavering. A mix of unanswered questions, curiosity, and— for the briefest second you swore you saw— hurt.

“I take it you’re not asking me why I brewed you crappy tea for the past three months?”

Levi clicks his tongue in irritation. “No, you idiot. I’m asking you why you left out of the blue. If you had a problem you could’ve brought it up with me—“

“No!” You quickly interrupt. “No, god no, you’re perfect.”

The captain’s eyes widen, and you suddenly realize the words you’d spoken as you quickly try to explain before Levi could interject.

“There was no problem, okay? I didn’t request to be reassigned because I had a problem. It’s quite the opposite, actually.” You murmur.

He eyes you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“I think I have a solution. May I?” You gesture, asking if you could sit on his desk. Levi nods, not understanding why you needed permission now when you’ve done it of your own volition countless times before, but he suddenly understands when you sit directly in front him and not across from him like you usually would.

He watches as you pull a small brown box from your jacket, placing it down onto his desk before opening it. Levi is quiet as he eyes the item inside.

“It’s just a prototype for now. I was hoping to carve out a better one in my free time, one that would be a custom fit, but my free time kinda went flying out the window when you started firing people left and right until no one would accept you but me.”

You pick up the wooden prosthetic fingers and gently place them onto his desk. Your hand opens palm up, waiting for Levi to be comfortable enough to lend his hand to you, and he does so silently.

“The prosthetic’s made from redwood and the joints are connected by small metal rods. It’s light and durable, and I weatherproofed it so it wouldn’t break down so easily when you use them.” You explain, unwrapping the bandages around his hand. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out the concept, actually. I just took a pair of standard issue Survey Corps gloves and cut out all the fingers. Then, y’know, attached the wooden fingers to where the pointer and middle should be.”

Levi could only nod. You weren’t sure if his silence was good or bad and you couldn’t read his look. But Levi— Levi was speechless. In his mind, he dared not speak in fear of looking like a fool. Especially not in front of the person who gave back a piece of himself (quite literally, at that.)

He tenderly looks at the way you fitted the prosthetics onto his own hand, fastening brown leather straps around his wrists to secure the glove. The minute the glove is on and he sees all five fingers for the first time since the explosion, he feels like he’s about to cry.

“I had Hange help me with the anatomy so you could still bend them as you would normal fingers. I couldn’t figure out how to make them move on their own though, so you’d have to manually do that yourself.”

To demonstrate, you bend one of the prosthetics, the wood imitating the bend of his finger but not springing back up despite his brain commanding it to do so. You watch intently as he fumbles around with his hand, moving the fingers about. The wonder and astonishment in his usually unimpressed eye didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it spurred  you to continue on.

“Unfortunately, it’s not strong enough to flick the switches on ODM gear. You still have to relearn how to hold your blades when you’re cleared for training again.” You say regrettably. “But it’s strong enough to hold a pen.”

Your hand reaches for the forgotten quill across his desk, dipping it in the inkwell before offering it to him with a small smile. Levi slowly takes it, still speechless, as he readjusts his prosthetic to hold the quill and write.

His writing is still shit, undoubtedly; still no better than chicken scratches as he messily writes down the words. But god, the sight of the indiscernible handwriting next to five fingers brought tears to his eyes as he finally finished writing his name. The slightly legible letters of ‘Levi Ackerman’ stared back at him.

Levi couldn’t hold it back anymore. He immediately set the quill down before standing up to engross you in a warm embrace. You tense in his arms, not used to Levi willingly initiating any form of physical touch at all. But as he tucks his head into the curve of your neck and his shoulders start shaking, splotches of wet dripping onto your collarbones, you feel your arms encircle his waist, bringing him closer as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear and let him cry in peace.

Your hands ran through his scalp, willing him to calm down. Though normally the sight of a crying Captain Levi was something you never thought you’d see, you couldn’t help but feel honored he chose to share this rare moment of vulnerability with you.

You let him cry, still holding onto him, giving him his time. Briefly, you wonder what he was thinking. What pushed him to tears? Did the captain ever let himself mourn his losses? Does he mourn his friends, his family, the little pieces of himself that he’d lost along the way?

Though you had a million questions in your mind you dared not pry as you continued to comfort the weeping man in front of you.

Finally, after a few moments of nothing but silent sniffles and your sweet words, Levi finds it in himself to finally speak.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Night had fallen around the base, encasing the world in darkness that beckons slumber. Levi continued to stay awake, still in his office, staring at the prosthetic you had given him hours before.

Curiously, he feels himself form his right hand into a fist, not surprised that the two wooden fingers didn’t comply like the rest. It was imperfect and he himself thought it could use some tiny adjustments for the sake of comfort— something he definitely would bring up to you as requested.

And yet, despite knowing his ‘fingers’ were nothing but wood, leather and metal, he couldn’t help but think it was the best thing he could ever ask for. 

Silently, under the lone glowing light of his oil lamp, Levi pulls out a blank sheet of paper and begins to turn his feelings into thoughts, thoughts into words, and words into sentences as his quill meets the white surface.

Hours later, he finds himself in front of your quarters, a candle in his left hand while his right held a pristine white envelope. The envelope containing unsaid words, unspoken wishes, and hidden feelings.

Your eyes are sleepy when you answer the door, half lidded and hair a mess when his knocks had woken you from your slumber. You rub your eye, adjusting to the light as you stare at the person in front of you.

“Captain?” You ask, stifling a yawn. “What’re you doing here so late?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he opts to look at you with an unreadable expression as he asks, “Can I come in?”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, and the thought of you slamming the door on his face crossed Levi’s mind; but that didn’t happen. Rather, you nodded and ushered him inside your bedroom, closing the door behind him as you once again flopped onto your bed. 

He places the candle down on your bedside table and now he was unsure what to do. He had a plan— or, he thought he had a plan— but awkwardly standing in your room in the middle of the night wasn’t part of it.

Quietly, you chuckle at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest looking so odd and out of place, unsure and slightly panicked. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to sit, and he complies.

Both of you had your knees pulled up to your chests and you were thankful when you noticed Levi had taken his shoes off before sitting on the bed. A comfortable silence encompasses the atmosphere in the dimly lit room. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the close proximity. 

From the corner of your eye, Levi looked like he was deep in thought. Not the kind you saw plenty of times in the battlefield or in strategy meetings, not the kind you saw when you entered his office as he hastily tried to hide his mirror. But the kind you saw when he quietly suffered through his own living hell. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, finally breaking the silence. He shakes his head. 

“Well, what brings the mighty Captain Levi to my humble little room?”

“Levi.” 

“What?”

“Call me Levi.” He murmurs, downcast staring intently at the envelope on his lap. “In this room, I’m not your captain. I’m not your patient. I’m not Humanity’s Strongest.”

You feel your eyebrows scrunch as surprise and curiosity paint your face, but not because of the captain’s offer to call him so casually. No— the surprise you showed was because he unclasped the prosthetic you made, not even sparing it a second glance as he carelessly threw it to you, and you barely managed to catch the limbs you’d spent countless hours and sleepless nights to create.

“Levi, what are you—“

“But I’m not a broken teacup for you to fix either.” He says, eyeing the stumps on right hand. “I’m not a doll who’s missing some parts. I’m not a charity case accepting donations.”

You were looking at him now, head turned in his direction as he unclasps his eyepatch and lets it fall onto his lap. He raises his head, eyes making contact with yours.

“I’m just Levi.”

A few moments of silence pass but neither of you look away. The reason why the captain continued to stare wasn’t something you knew. But the reason why you never looked away was because of his eyes. 

Levi’s eyes were still as gorgeous as you remembered them to be. Though his right eye was a different shade from his left, a lighter and paler shade of gray; though it lacked the light and emotions his unharmed eye bore; though it had a jagged scar running through it from where he was hit, you couldn’t help but think that his eyes were still the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen.

Gingerly, you lift up your hand to touch the right side of his face where his battle wounds lie, the prosthetic forgotten as it falls somewhere in the sheets. He doesn’t flinch like he did the first few times you did it, when you reached for his face during checkups to inspect his scars. But it didn’t stop you from asking.

“May I?” 

Levi doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings your hand to rest on his cheek as his head leaned closer to your touch. His eyes closed momentarily, almost as if he were reveling in your warmth. But they opened once more, and you willed yourself not to get lost in the sea of gray.

“You were never a charity case to me, Levi. Or any of the things you just said.”

“Then what am I to you?”

Your heart stops, eyes widening ever so slightly at his question. Would you tell him? No, you couldn’t. Not when—

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” His grip on your hand tightens a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to distract you from your thoughts. You realize the hand that held your own against his cheeks was his broken hand, his mutilated hand.

...would you really tell him?

You sigh, eyes finally leaving his. “You’re just another soldier who got hurt from a battle, asking a medic to take the pain away.”

Your hand slips out of his grip and goes back to your side, and you turn away from him once more. 

“Are you lying?” He asks.

“No.”

“Then look into my eyes and tell me what I am to you.”

“I can’t.”

Your voice cracks ever so slightly, hesitant but determined to stick to your words. And Levi knew that he was never going to get an answer. He sighs, shoulders slumping down in defeat. It was now his turn to look away from you, gaze falling to his lap. The envelope holding the letter crinkles and he’s reminded why he’s here.

“I know.” He whispers back. “But do me a favor.”

He doesn’t look your way as he hands you the letter. He doesn’t look your way when you silently took it, eyeing the red wax seal that bore his initials, fingers tracing over the edges before—

“Don’t open it yet. Open it tomorrow morning before you come in for my checkup.”

You only nodded in response. You reached out, placing the envelope on your bedside table before once again sitting next to Levi. Just as you had started, a comfortable silence blankets the atmosphere. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the proximity.

But this time, it was he who breaks the silence.

“I don’t know what the future holds.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know what the future holds.” He repeats. “I could die in action tomorrow and be one of the bodies they wheel back from war, or you could die trying to save someone in the battlefield. Even if neither of us die tomorrow, there’s always a possibility that we’ll die the day after that. And the day after that and the day after that. Such are the risks of our jobs.”

He takes a deep breath. “But tonight, I don’t want to focus on tomorrow. I don’t want to focus on what the future holds. I don’t want to focus on titans or enemy troops or looking after my team.”

“Then what do you want?” 

“You.” 

Your eyes soften. “But what am I to you?”

You didn’t know what to expect, what his answer may be. But you know you didn’t expect it when Levi’s fingers gently grabbed your chin and coaxed your head to look in his direction. You didn’t expect it when you opened your eyes and met his, his warm palm resting on your cheek. And what you didn’t expect most was for his eyes to look at you with so much love, so much care and adoration. Gone were the facades of boredom and disinterest; the stoicness and detachment they always seemed to reflect. All there was left was softness, warmth, and what seemed to be the unmistakable swirls of vulnerability.

“You’re just another medic too busy putting other peoples’ lives before your own.”

“Are you lying?” 

“No.” He whispers. “But you make me want to plan for a future I know we won’t have— a future we can’t have.” 

And for the first time, you knew he meant it. You knew what he meant. 

In your line of work full of death and violence and risks almost too big to take. In what you once thought was your little world, turning out to be too big for you to handle. In your personal brand of hell where tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, and loss was the only constant— it was enough. This small moment was enough.

“You have the most beautiful eyes.” You whispered, entranced. A soft chuckle leaves Levi’s lips, eyes turning into crescent moons so fitting of his gray orbs and your heart twitches at the sight and sound of his melodious laughter.

His thumb brushes over your cheek and your eyes meet his once again, the beautiful shades of gray staring you back. You didn’t know who did it first but at this point you didn’t care enough to find out because slowly, you both leaned in. Slowly, you both closed your eyes. And slowly, you both tilted your heads.

He pauses.

“May I?” Levi asks, lips merely inches away from yours. You nod.

“You may.”

And suddenly, the distance between your lips was no more.

There were no fireworks, no explosions in your heart or butterflies in your belly. There was no feeling of cloud nine, no feeling of want or need. There was only warmth in your chest, the feeling of a small fireplace crackling and glowing in the coldness of the night. The feeling of warm sheets and warm bodies cuddled up in an embrace.

Home. 

The feeling of home.

Because that’s what you were to Levi, and what Levi was to you.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your routine checkup.”

“Come in.”

As the door opens and you set the tray down on his desk, hands gently holding the kettle to pour him his cup of tea, you noticed that Levi was still trying to write. But what caught your attention wasn’t the fact that it was no longer his name he tried to scribble, opting to write down complete sentences. What caught your attention was that he was wearing his prosthetics, and his eyepatch wasn’t on.

“Did you read the letter?” He asks. His hands were still writing and his eyes were still staring at the papers in front of him. But you could tell he was anxious.

“Yes.” You simply reply, and he nods.

“Good.”

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