#night shift so far has been uneventful…

[fauvester]

OH WE ARE SO BACK..

[eunbitchh]

sit back & watch me ride

*18+ MDNI*

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: thigh riding, slight degradation (inner monologue), teensy tiny hint of perv mike, praise, mike cums untouched lol

title based off a lyric from this song, stream it & stan chungha:

-

the familiar sound of the front door opening and shutting and the heavy steps of mikes work shoes filled the halls, catching your attention from the bathroom where you were just finishing moisturizing your skin after having a warm bubble bath to ease the days anxieties away. you peek your head out of the bathroom door and see mikes figure in the distance hanging up his security vest along with putting his wallet and keys in their designated spot not too far from the front door. you quickly finish up moisturizing your skin and slide on your bed shirt (his shirt, specifically) and a sheer pair of lacey panties so you can go greet him after his long nigh shift he had just come home from.

“hey mike, how was work?” you ask him and lay a soft kiss to his cheek. he looked exhausted, he always did, with the dreams? nightmares rather? that plagued him at any attempt to rest. he sighs and rubs a hand down his face

“uneventful.. has abby eaten?”

you nod “yeah, i made us some lasagna so if you’re hungry i could heat some up for you to eat?”

he seemed to like that idea, so that’s what you did, sharing small talk while he ate and just generally enjoying one another’s presence.

mike always appreciated having you around, he never thought he would find someone who loved and cared about both him and his sister the way that you did, but having you around definitely brought a bit of light into their lives again. he loved you, a lot. however he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty that your sex lives weren’t all that active- both due to abby being around and the conflicting scheduling between the 2 of you resulting in you both simply be too tired to even think of sex. it was pretty rare that you’d both have the time to have sex at all, but you would both find ways around that regardless.

tonight was 1 of those nights, you were horny, and who could blame you? mike looked good. messy curls, the scruff that created a delicious prickle of pain whenever he went down on you, and those ever so tired eyes. it’s almost as if he was psychic and could hear your thoughts, or maybe you just hadn’t paid attention to what he was saying.. but he was looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a hint of amusement written on his face.

“there something you want?”

“yeah, you.” you answered. blunt? yes. but you were growing antsy after not having been able to have any form of stimulation from him, or even yourself the past 2 weeks. it was torture, you wanted to do nothing more than jump his bones here and now. thankfully tonight abby was having a sleepover at a friends house after the dinner you shared with her earlier so you wouldn’t have to worry about keeping your voice down.. which you knew would be an issue with how touch starved you were currently.

“yeah? how do you want me darling?” he asked you, eyes never faltering away from you, a subtle challenge glinting within them. mike adored you, truly, and despite being too tired to fuck you properly like you deserve he would still do anything it took to leave you satisfied. you eyes scanned over his face and down his body from where he sat, eyes zeroing in on his thighs.

god how you loved those thighs. they were thick and muscular, completely irresistible.

“can i ride your thigh?” you asked him, softly biting your bottom lip while you peered back at his face.

he nodded at your question and patted a hand on his thigh, inviting you to take your rightful seat.

“go on then, pretty girl.”

you didn’t need to be told twice, practically throwing yourself onto him like a total whore, which in this case you were. his whore, specifically. but you really didn’t care, you wanted him. needed him. he watched you closely while you straddled his thigh, how your mouth formed a small ‘o’ at the sensation of his rough jeans coming in contact with your panty clad pussy. he always thought you looked beautiful like this, it made him wish he was an artist so could plaster your image onto a canvas to hang in a museum. or even just take a photo of you in this position to stash away and jerk off to while he was at work..

his hands came to a resting point on your waist, holding you firmly to help you maintain balance while you got yourself comfortable on the meat of his thigh. your quiet whines began to fill the rooms emptiness while you slowly began to rock against him. usually it was him who was louder between the both of you, but something about you being more vocal really got to him, he could feel himself getting hard just from the sight of you slowly rocking your body against his thigh, making all these pretty sounds just for him. fuck, you really had him wrapped right around your finger.

“how’s it feel, pretty girl?” he asked you, voice dropping an octave lower while he watched you through hooded eyes and parted lips, you would think he was the 1 fucking himself right now with how ruined he looked, yet here you were soaking the material of your panties and his jeans because you were so needy.

“feels good.. feels so good” you moaned, resting your face into the crook of his neck, tickling the skin with your heated breath. his hands gripped your waist tighter when you began to rut against his thigh beginning to move at a more rapid pace now, moan after moan falling through your lips.

your hands gripped his shoulders as you continued to shamelessly fuck yourself on his thigh, higher pitched moans coming from you now when he flexed his it beneath you, creating the perfect added sensation to your erratically throbbing clit. he seriously couldn’t wrap his head around how fucking hot you looked using him like this. his cock lurched in its confinement while you continued to grind down on him, oozing beads of precum while he got off just to the sight of you. he was so hard that it hurt but he refused to touch himself, focussing solely on helping you cum right now.

“you gonna cum for me, darling?” he spoke lowly to you, watching you nod in response as you were too caught up in the throes of pleasure to form a coherent response.

“cum for me, cum all over my thigh.”

and you did, with a final loud moan your orgasm ripped through you. you found yourself having to wrap your arms around his neck to hug him close to your body so you wouldn’t collapse from the intensity of it all. he watched you through dark, lust, blown pupils feeling himself cum without even having been touched.

“fuck that was so hot” he whispers to you, softly rubbing your hips while you came down from your orgasm. your breathing was shaky, but you could finally speak again clearly.

“did you.. did you cum?” you ask him with a small smirk. he rubbed the back of his neck at your question, blushing a bit.

“uh.. yeah, i couldn’t help it.” he felt a little embarassed, cumming like that despite having neglected his own pleasure the entire time.

“oh mike you don’t need to be embarassed, that’s actually really hot” you reassured him, resting your head on his shoulder while you stared contently at his face.

he rolled his eyes playfully at your comment but made no argument against it, just revelling in the closeness of your bodies right now.

“anyways.. we should probably get cleaned up and get you to bed, you look exhausted” you spoke in a softer tone, tracing a soft pattern on his forearm with your finger. he nodded in response and lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom to finally get the sleep he so desperately needed, knowing fully well he would finally get a restful night with you in his arms.

[and-claudia]

Against All Odds pt. 12 (Joel Miller x fem! reader)

General Warnings for later on: The main story will have an age gap between Joel and the reader (Reader will be 25 once we get to the main storyline), this will also be your warning that it will eventually be an x pregnant reader (if that’s not your jam, I’m sorry) there is also going to be more graphic/trigger parts later on so please always to be sure to read the warnings BEFORE reading. This story will also be 18+ and TO BE ON THE TAGLIST YOU CAN NOT BE AN AGELESS BLOG (i do actually check that) also there first hand full of parts are all prologue so Joel won’t actually be in it for a bit

warnings for this part: mentions of suicide, mentions of coming out (it's not all super heavy, I promise!!)

ALSO!!! I am making a decision that kinda contradicts an earlier part... I am adding this note so you know, earlier I was going off Joel's age based off the show, I am now changing it to be his age in the game just to make a few things work a little better... SORRY FOR ANY CONFUSION!!!!!!!

word count: 2800+

Taglist Sign-Up (read my rules carefully before filling it out)

gif not mine

Ellie’s PoV 

Once I was sure Yn was out of earshot, I turned to Joel. 

“I want to talk about what happens after we find your brother in Wyoming.” I said seriously. 

He gave me a weird look, “Okay…” 

I took a deep breath before starting, “What’s your plan for me once we get there?” 

“Well… Marleen didn’t exactly give us the address of where you were going. So I was gonna ask Tommy if he knew where those Fireflies might be. Get you there… then… I don’t know. Timeline really depends on how long we’re out here, how close Yn is to havin’ the baby.” He explained. 

I nodded and was quiet for a moment. 

“What if I don’t want to go to Fireflies…” I asked quietly. 

“Do you not want to?” Joel asked. 

I took a deep breath, “I don’t know…I didn’t want to tell Yn because I don’t want it to stress her out in any way since she’s already pregnant… but I don’t think I want to find the Fireflies anymore…” I watched him to gauge his reaction, but he gave none, “It’s just… I’ve been told I am special, that I am the key to the cure… but I don’t think I am… not anymore. I tried to save Sam… it didn’t work. If I can’t save one person, how am I expected to save thousands?” 

I paused. 

“And I know this sounds selfish, and I know I am not anything really to either of you, but I don’t want to leave you two behind… you three behind. I want to be here when Yn has the baby and watch it grow into a tiny person.” 

I looked at him, trying to fight the tears brimming in my eyes. All I could do was give a small nod. 

“That’s not selfish, Ellie. It’s human.” Joel said after a moment, “Yn and I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. And you don’t have to decide anything right now. Trust me, we will have plenty of time before now and Wyoming for you to think and make up your mind.” 

I nodded before whispering, “Thank you, Joel. For everything.” 

He only nodded back, “Go get some rest. I’ll nudge you in a couple of hours to take a watch shift.” he said, nodding off to where Yn had fallen asleep against a tree. 

I nodded and stood up. My mind was still reeling with what the hell I wanted to do. But Joel was right, nothing needed to be decided tonight. We were still far away from Wyoming, I would have plenty of time to decide by then… right? 

Yn’s PoV

The following days were fairly uneventful. We walked for hours on end and would rest at night. The sun was setting on our fifth day of straight walking. To say that my feet hurt would be a severe understatement. Joel had said something to me the other day about how I should start showing here soon since I was around 15 weeks now, but currently, the only getting bigger were my feet. I tried not to say anything, though, because I knew their feet must be getting sore, too. But every step we took sent a jolt of pain up my leg. 

“Shouldn’t we stop soon?” I asked. 

“Eh, the sun’s just now starting to set. We can probably go another hour.” Joel said.

He was a few paces ahead of me when he said it, so he couldn’t see the sour face I made… but Ellie did. 

“You okay?” She asked quietly. 

“Hm? Yeah, fine.” I said. 

She nodded before speeding up to be in step with Joel. 

“Damn it, Ellie.” I mumbled to myself as I watched her talk to Joel. 

They both stopped walking, which allowed me to catch up with them. 

“On second thought, let's just stop for the night. This is a decent clearing. There’s a creek nearby to get some water from. We can stay here for the night.” He said. 

“Joel, I’m fine. Let’s go another hour, then stop. It’ll let us get another mile or so under our belt.” I said. 

He said nothing but glanced down to where I had undone my boots earlier. They were completely undone to where they would come off, but they were clearly loosened. 

“Why’re your boots undone?” He asked, standing with his hands on his hips. 

“Forgot to relace them… pregnancy brain. Let’s go. We’re losing daylight.” I said. 

“Nope, sit.” He nodded to a large rock beside a tree. 

I sighed and did as he said. He followed me over and squatted down in front of me. Once I was sitting, he began undoing my boots. I winced slightly as he pulled the first one off. 

“M’sorry.” He said, grabbing the second one and sliding it off gently. 

“How long have they been like this?” He asked. 

“Started about halfway through the day yesterday. I didn’t want to say anything and slow us down.” I explained. 

“You need to speak up when you’re in pain. We’re not traveling tomorrow. We’ll take a day to rest.” He said. 

“No, I don’t want to slow us down.” I tried to argue. 

“Not resting will slow us down even more. Tomorrow, I want you on your feet as little as possible, okay?” He said. 

I nodded, “Can you go fill my water for me?” I asked, leaning over to grab it out of my pack that I had dropped beside me. 

“Yeah. Ellie, give me your water, I’ll go fill them. When I get back, I’ll set a trap to try and get us some dinner.” Joel said, standing up and walking over to her. 

Once he was gone, Ellie came over and sat down beside me on the ground. 

“You didn’t have to say anything to Joel, you know.” I said. 

I wasn’t actually mad at her in any way; I was more just frustrated with myself for being the reason why we were taking a break. Deep down, I knew it was out of my control, but it still didn’t help make me feel any better about it. 

“I know. But I also know you weren’t going to. Plus, I could tell you were in pain.” She said. 

“Thank you… sorry that I’m slowing us down.” I said. 

“Eh, it’s not your fault, it’s the rugrat’s.” She said, making me smile. 

“I guess you’re right. I just want to make sure we can get you to the Fireflies as soon as possible. I don’t know if they’re on a timeline or something.” I explained.

I noticed that she stiffened up slightly at the mention of the Fireflies. 

She let out a nervous laugh, “About that… I talked to Joel a few nights ago… I am having second thoughts on finding them.” She said, looking at me clearly trying to watch for my reaction. 

“Okay… any particular reason why?” I asked. 

“I am not certain that I am the cure… I just don’t know if it’s worth leaving you and Joel… and the baby for something that’s not a guarantee. And I know I at least want to stay with you until the baby gets here… but then thinking about leaving after that doesn’t feel right either. I just don’t know what to do. I told Joel that part of me feels guilty for even considering staying because I could be potentially saving thousands… but I may not even be the cure.” 

“That’s a decision only you can make, Ellie. But it doesn’t have to be soon. We’ll have plenty of time before we even get to Wyoming. Only you know what is best for you… I will say that I would love to have you here when I have the baby. I want them to meet you for sure. But if and when the time comes that you decide to go find the Fireflies, I won’t hold you back. I’ll support you in any decision you make. Come here.” I said, scooting over to make room for her on the rock. 

She got up and sat beside me. I hugged her to my side. 

“Thank you.” She said. 

I only nodded. 

“You know, you’re pretty good at the whole mom thing.” She said suddenly, making me look at her. 

“What?” 

“I don’t know… you just have something that makes me feel like I can share anything with you… like I don’t have to hide anything.” She explained. 

“Well, I’m glad. And you really can tell me anything.” I said.

“Okay, well… do you remember how y’all mentioned a boyfriend when asking if anyone would come looking for me?” 

“Yeah.” I nodded for her to continue. 

“Well, truth is, I’ve never had a boyfriend… and I honestly don’t see myself ever having a boyfriend. If you know what I mean…” She said, glancing over at me. 

“I get what you mean.” I said, smiling and nodding. 

“You’re okay with that?” She asked, almost shocked. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? You’re not the first gay person I’ve met.” I said with a small laugh. 

She nodded as she let out a breath, “Do you think Joel will be okay with it?” She asked. 

“Oh yeah.” 

“Really, even at his age?” She asked, making us both laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” Joel asked as he walked back up with our water canteens filled. 

“Nothing.” Ellie said. 

“Okay…” He said, clearly not convinced, “I am going to go try and trap something for dinner.” 

He collected some supplies before heading off once again. 

“So… if there wasn’t a boyfriend, has there ever been a girlfriend? Sorry if that’s too personal, just curious about your life before all of this.” 

She hesitated, and I was scared that I had crossed the line. But then she began to speak. 

“I don’t know if I would call her a girlfriend… but there was a girl I liked… Riley.” 

The way she said told me everything I needed to know at that moment. Riley was dead, and she clearly wasn’t over it yet. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” I shook my head, “You don’t have to talk about if you’re not ready. I get it. I lost the last of my brothers years ago, and I still don’t like talking about it. It’s okay.” I said, hugging her close once again. 

“I miss her… does that ever go away?” She asked. 

I shook my head sadly, “No… it gets easier. Eventually, you get to where you don’t even think about it anymore until something reminds you of them, then hurts again, not as bad as it originally did, but still hurts. Then again, you eventually stop thinking about it until you get reminded again. It hurts, but it's even less than last time. And it continues. It always hurts just a little bit.” I explained the best I could. 

She nodded. 

“Whatever happened though, it wasn’t your fault… and neither was Sam.” She snapped her head to look at me, “I don’t know what happened with you and him, but Joel mentioned you tried to save him, and it didn’t work… that’s not your fault. I know it’s hard, but don’t blame yourself. And trust me, I know that’s easier said than done. Hell, it’s been over ten years, and I still blame myself for my brother’s death…” 

“What happened?” She asked. 

“He hung himself… I am the one who found him. He had just done it. I tried to cut him down. I just wasn’t fast enough… My father blamed me for it until the day he died… and I still carry that with me. Like I said, the pain never fully goes away…” 

“How old were you?” She asked. 

“Doesn’t matter… no one should have to experience that… I was younger than you were.” I said, staring off. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t pry.” She said. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll share more about my brothers later if you want. Some of the better memories.” I offered, and she smiled. 

“I’d like that. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have siblings, even just one.” She said. 

I couldn’t help but think about how if she chose to stay, then she would definitely be getting one. Although I wasn’t much older than her, just around ten years, I could see her becoming like a daughter to me. And I had a feeling the same was happening to Joel. 

small time jump

Within the next three days, we finally found ourselves entering Nebraska. We hadn’t gotten the chance to clean up in a while because the creekbeds were too low, so when Joel informed us of a creek that was deep enough to rinse off in, I was overjoyed. 

“You two go ahead and go. I’ll try to trap a rabbit or something.” Ellie said, nodding us off towards the creek. 

Joel had recently shown her how to trap things, and she actually gotten pretty good in the couple of days she’s been practicing. 

As we walked, I turned to Joel, “As much as I love you, I have only one thing on my mind, and that is to scrub the grime off of me and go sit down and get off my feet.” I said, making my intentions clear. 

“Got it. Give me your clothes, and I’ll rinse them with mine.” He said as we got to the creek. 

I nodded as I slipped my boots off and then peeled my socks off of my feet. The ground beneath me was cool to the touch and felt like heaven against my swollen feet. I finished getting undressed, tossing my clothes over to Joel, and soon I was in the cool water. 

As great as it felt, I was soon getting out and getting my “clean” clothes from Joel. Once again, I was forgoing putting my bra back on for the night and was just about to pull my shirt over my head when Joel stopped me. 

“Hey, wait, turn back around.” He called out to me. 

I turned to face him, “What?” I asked, confused. 

“Just turn to the side again…” He said, staring at me intently. 

“What?” 

“Just do it, please.” He wasn’t being pushy. Instead, he seemed oddly curious. 

I did it and looked at him expectantly. 

“When did that show up?” He asked, in slight awe. 

“What?” I asked, confused. 

“That.” He emphasized, nodding to my stomach. 

“Joel, it’s nothing. I’m just a little bloated. I don’t think it’s what you think it is.” I said. 

“I don’t think so… no offense, but we haven’t really eaten anything that would be making you bloated. I think you’re starting to show.” 

I honestly hadn’t really considered that as a possibility. My mind just jumped to it being bloated. 

“Really?” I asked, looking down, it was just barely there, but there was definitely a small bump forming. 

“I mean, I’m no doctor, but that’s what it looks like to me. Here, come sit while I rinse off, and we can talk about it more afterward, okay? I’ll be quick.” He promised, standing up and beginning to undress. 

Once he was done, he rinsed our old clothes, and we began walking back to our camp. Ellie had managed to catch two squirrels that Joel quickly prepared and began cooking. Then he came and sat by me. 

“Sorry if I made you self-conscious or anything… I just wasn’t really prepared for this part of all of it.” He explained. 

“Were you not…” I trailed off, knowing that his daughter was a touchy subject for him. 

He shook his head, “No, her mom and I were like an on-again-off-again type of thing. Then, at some point, we were off again for a while, and then she showed up at my door out of nowhere with a baby. She was gone the next morning. So, I am a little inexperienced in this part of things… I do vaguely remember my mom being pregnant with Tommy, but that’s about it.” He said with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood from when he started talking. 

“Well, you got more than I do. I was the youngest, so…” I said, and he nodded. 

“Also, you really remember your mom being pregnant with Tommy… that was so long ago…” I teased. 

“I am only 52. I’m not that old, you know.” He shot back, nudging me with his shoulder. 

“I know, I just like giving you shit.” I said, looking over at him with a smile. 

“You’re lucky I love you. You know that, right?” He said. 

“Yeah, I know. I love you too.” I said, leaning over to kiss him. 

“You better not be letting those squirrels burn.” Ellie’s voice made me jump slightly. 

“They’re not.” Joel said, rolling his eyes, though he wasn’t really upset. 

He finished cooking them before dividing up the small amount of meat from them to all of us. After we ate, we settled in for the night. We had one more day of traveling before we would rest for a day. It was slow progress, but it would work. I knew the cold would set in soon, and the cool breeze that blew through the trees just as the thought crossed my mind only confirmed that. 

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[luvrsbian]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

A/N: she's finally here!!! this was initially supposed to be a one shot but has kinda turned into a draft up of a pretty plotless, sweet, fluffy mini series. it follows canon for the most part minus eddies death ofc but because im bad with canon lore and science shit, its not heavily mentioned (some minor canon lore was changed but it's not super important.) this is a fem!reader, no use of y/n, set in 1992, 4k words, and i've kept reader pretty vague for inclusivity minus some background lore. this series is not 18+ (yet) but my page is, so please do not follow if you are a minor. thank you sweet baby mona @enam3l for beta-reading for me (ily)

MASTERLIST ✿ PART TWO

Eddie Munson liked his life. He liked his friends, even if a lot of them have now dispersed across the continental United States for school, jobs, general life (minus Robin who has somehow managed to make her way to Australia doing God knows what.) He liked his home, a house on the edge of town – slightly bigger than the old trailer – which he still shared with his uncle. He liked his style and hobbies and taste in music and movies that haven’t really changed much in the last 5 years since his final senior year. 

He really liked his job. 

Which felt odd for him to admit to himself.  It wasn’t anything like what he thought he would be doing. A younger Eddie Munson would imagine himself traveling city to city, adored by fans, living creatively and free spirited.  

But a middle school janitorial gig kept him young. One could argue 26 wasn't even that old, however, compared to his friends (who he'd already been older than) with their careers, relationships and growing families, he felt like a lonely old man. So, yeah, the awkward, funny, and extremely honest pre-teens made him feel young.  

Initially he thought the job would be lonely. It’s a small town with even smaller schools. Besides him, there was only one other night janitor that he alternated weekend cleans with and only really ran into during day-to-night shift changes. Ron was nice enough, older than Wayne, with a far higher patience for children. Unsurprisingly, behaviours from high school died hard and the teachers and administrative staff all kept to their own little cliques. Resulting in Eddie keeping to himself, rarely speaking outside of his custodian duties or the occasional faculty meeting. 

He didn’t even think he’d interact with the students aside from cleaning the odd vomit or getting stuck balls out of the gymnasium rafters. He unintentionally found himself yet again the outcasted mother goose to a small hoard of pre-teen metal heads when their unofficial leader, Matty Sherman, caught site of the various posters Ed keeps hung up on his office (custodial closet) door. The seventh grader quickly forcing himself under Eddies wings and refusing to budge. Matty was a good kid. Reminded Eddie a lot of himself at that age. He was loud, abrasive, and way too confident for such a gangly frame in ill-fitting clothes. Matty had hair though which 13-year-old Eddie couldn’t relate to. 

There was also Ms. Virginia Wagner. The eccentric, nurse who has been working at Hawkins Middle since Eddie was attending. Maybe even before that, he wasn’t quite sure and whenever he asked anything close to finding out her age, she quickly shut him down. She was sweet. She was funny. She was also a mean old hag sometimes, but God did Eddie love that about her. If he was just 20 - or more realistically 40 - years older and wasn’t almost certain she swings the other way, he’d shoot his shot.  

The Summer season was extremely uneventful for Eddie. Due to the kids being out of school, his hours were cut in more than half with only the yearly repairs and deep cleaning needing to be done. He went into work about 3 days a week, spending the extra free time to do some manual labour gigs here and there around town. When he wasn’t working, he was hidden away at home watching movies, listening to music, trying to plan out ongoing and future campaigns for Hellfire meetings that have begun to be fewer and far between now that everyone has dispersed. On some rare occasions when he didn’t feel like a complete shell of a person and was able to leave the house to socialize outside of life obligations, he met up with the few friends that remained in the Hawkins area (which at this point in time was really only Steve Harrington and Gareth Emerson.) 

It was now the Monday of the week before students would return back to these fluorescent lit halls. That meant all other faculty were now gracing the school to prepare for the year ahead. Organizing and prepping and finalizing lesson plans and class rosters.  

Eddie had a slight pep in his step as he walked through the halls, scuffed up sneakers squeaking on the shiny, extra polished tiles. He whistled a silent tune that clashed with the jingles of his keys that he swung around his middle finger. Getting to the janitors closet to put on his navy coverall and put his hair into a low bun. He zips up the stiff material, covering the self-altered muscle tank top that had the logo for some local band down in Indianapolis he saw a few years back before things went to shit. A cracked and stained mirror hanging up over his work sink being used to make sure his hair looked casually messy in the bun. With a final once over, he hooks his keys to the belt loop of his coveralls and preps for the day's work. A glance at his wristwatch, the one that has somehow survived hell and back just like him, reads 7:58. Just 4 hours and 2 minutes until lunch.  

He couldn’t wait. 

Eddie used those 4 hours and 2 minutes to check each stall in all bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and the likes, clean the actual toilets themselves, and make sure the water was running properly in every sink. Once that was taken care of, he began on his biggest task of the week of dragging desks and chairs out of the back storage building to be put into classrooms. Sheryl from the administrative team having left the small packet of papers indicating how many seats each room would need for the coming year.  

He could move the chairs in stacks at a time but could only really stack two - maybe three if he was careful - desks on his hand truck before it became a safety problem. Once moved into the main building, he had to wipe them down, tighten any loose screws that could make them wobble, and make sure they were still in usable condition. Eddie had completed almost 3 of the 32 classrooms before lunch finally rolled around.  

He grabbed his lunch sack from the custodial closet and whistled on his merry way to the nurse's office. He’s been eating lunch with Virginia for as long as he can remember. Of course, there was those 5 years of High School and then the year of recovery following the events of his second senior year, and the summer breaks of course, but besides all those he’s been eating with her for a good 7 years.  

This ritual beginning in his 6th grade, the first year he moved in with Wayne, all sad eyed and past aside due to events outside of his control. Kids he had grown up with suddenly not wanting anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really make any friends again until 7th grade, and his first band of misfits was created, Corroded Coffin. 6th Grade was the worst year of his life until 1986 and now it’s about tied.  

Sadly, in middle school who you ate a meal with or gave the time of day too was so integral into maintaining the hierarchal balance of the ecosystem. It was bullshit. With everything that happened that lead to his father going to jail and him burdening his uncle, the kids of Hawkins middle school decided Eddie wasn’t worth risking their own reputations. He doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, his brain kicking the memory out at some point to make room for more important stuff like D&D lore. But he does remember he went from eating lunch in the bathroom to eating it in Nurse Wagner’s office.  

Even after being integrated back into the Middle school social circle, he couldn’t just leave her to eat lunch by herself. She needed him with his alternative music education and retelling of the fantasy books he’d been reading lately and his strong headedness that could keep up with her dry and sarcastic quips many interpreted as rudeness. Although Eddie would still refuse to admit it, in actuality he probably needed her more than she needed him. 

He doesn’t knock, just moseys his tall frame into the nurse's office, wide dimpled smile on his lips as he hears rummaging coming from the actual office area that was blocked off by a wall. He looks at the two plastic-y beds covered in paper sheets, inhaling that antiseptic smell that can only seem to be found in medical settings. No fluorescent lights were on, only natural light being let it from the two big windows.  

There are curtains on them now which surprises him. Floral pinks and yellows with lace on the edge that really fit the grandma vibes Virginia has but refused to acknowledge. The windows all have blinds, but curtains were deemed a non-necessary commodity by the school board budgeting team, meaning if you wanted curtains, you’re gonna have to fork money out of pocket for them. Eddie had asked Virginia about it once, commenting about how it would help spruce up the place. Make it look a little less sterile. She told him to go to hell, that she’s a nurse not rich. Any out-of-pocket money she spent on work only going towards things that actually matter, like the allergen friendly laundry detergent and the nicer, name brand candy for the candy bowl. 

Putting his lunch on the side table of the first bed, he lays down in a relaxed position. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, eyes closed, he lets out a relaxed sigh. 

“Virginia, dear, I really love what you’ve done with the place,” he calls out to her, hearing the close of the filing cabinet and footsteps soon following, “feels all homey now, dontcha think.” 

The footsteps stop. 

“I'm glad you like them. You feelin’ comfy there?” 

That was most definitely not Virginia Wagners voice. 

Eddie jolts up, eyes wide and cheeks red. He’s not one to get embarrassed easily but since recent events he’s been a bit more reserved in how comfortable he gets around strangers. And you were most definitely a stranger. A pretty stranger. A very pretty stranger in a teddy bear patterned scrub top and an oversized cardigan with embroidered sunflowers. You’re a disorienting mess of patterns and colors but you’re also, like, really pretty and Eddie isn’t sure how to go about this. 

“You’re not Virginia,” is all he can get his voice to come out with. 

“I’m not Virginia.” You give a chuckle. A positive response, Eddie thinks. 

“Where’s Virginia?” 

Eddie is now standing away from the bed and closer to the door, ready to run from the situation if needed (something he’s learned to embrace in the last few years.) You give him a friendly smile, hands in your cardigan pockets, the sleeves bunched up. You look cozy.  

“Florida. She’ll be in the Caribbean by the end of the month,” you supply. He can tell your fingers are fidgeting in your pockets. His hands are fidgeting at his waist, pinching at the material of his coveralls.  

“Why?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “Retirement.” 

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, eyes breaking contact with yours for the first time since standing, shifting to look at your white - almost pristine - sneakers on the tile floor her spent all summer mopping and waxing and removing scuff marks from. “That sucks.” 

You snort. Teeth biting your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him further during this awkwardly endearing meeting. Your own eyes looking him over now that he isn’t completely focused on you. He’s cute. His cheeks stained your favourite shade of pink once he realized you weren’t the now retired nurse he had been so fond of. Hands covered in jewlery. His inability to stay still so natural it makes you think he doesn’t even realize he’s been shifting his body weight back and forth from his toes to his heels this whole time. Tall, lean, maybe with some extra fluff hidden under the baggy attire. He’s got some shadow of hair on his cheeks. And if you weren’t a civil person and he wasn’t a stranger, you’d be begging to kiss at the column of his throat. 

Your gaze moves to look around the waiting part of the office to avoid thinking even more things about this guy. A brown paper bag chicken scratched with the words ‘ED LUNCH’ catches your eye. Before you have a chance to speak yourself, he starts his interrogation again. 

“Who are you?” 

Your attention cuts back to him quickly. With a smile that shows all your teeth and a hand leaving your pocket, held out for him to shake, you give your full name. 

He takes it with his own reserved smile. His hands and rings are warm, but they still tingle your skin from the unfamiliarity of the metal. You enjoy it you think. Before he can introduce himself, you beat him to the punch. 

“You must be Edward, right?” 

He grimaces, “Just Eddie,” your handshake falls. His hand back to his hip and your hand back into your pocket, “Just Eddie is fine. More than fine, actually. Preferred, really.” 

Another chuckle from you. Eddie knows he’s funny when he wants to be but if it’s this easy to make you laugh, he doesn’t ever want to stop. 

“Well, just Eddie,” you smirk at his eye roll, “you can join me for lunch if you’d like. I feel like my presence may have ruined your initial plans,” you let out a huff of a laugh and gesture to the lunch sack by the window. He grimaces again at your wording and shakes his head. 

“It didn’t ruin any plans just was shocking ‘sall,” his hand moves from his hip to rub at his slightly scruffy chin, pretty brown eyes back on yours, “but um, yeah. Yes, I’d love- like to join you for lunch.” 

You smile. He smiles back. 

Eddie has sat in this chair, in this office, and eaten his lunch for years. Today it feels awkward and unfamiliar.  

It might have something to do with you sitting where Virginia used to sit. Same chair, same desk, same office, but completely different. Virginia didn’t decorate her space, leaving it functional and impersonal, if people wanted to know about her life they could ask her. She wasn’t going to flaunt it.  

You were very different. An orange, gaudy looking vase filled with fake flowers. A matching candy bowl with various sugary, little treats. A picture frame of you and what he could only assume was your family based on the similar features shared between each person. A decorated Coke can with the top cut off and trimmed with glued on lace and covered in holographic stickers of vibrant cartoon animals, sparse enough to still see the iconic red drink logo, was now holding an assortment of colorful gel pens.  

Even the chair wasn’t safe from your interior decorating, a purple knitted blanket folded over the top of the rolling seat. The seat itself now adorning a red, white, and black cushion of an ugly faced bulldog with a spiked color and cap with the letter G, the words ‘GEORGIA BULLDOGS’ splayed above him. A sports team he assumed.  

The conversation hadn’t started back up since the introduction in the sick room. Both of you taking your respective seats in the office area, opening your lunch bags and digging in.  

Eddie being a creature of habit brought his usual bag of pretzels, a can of Pepsi, and a sandwich made of whatever he could find in the kitchen. Today it was two slices of whole wheat, mayo, lettuce, the last piece of deli ham, and shredded cheese.  

Your own lunch seemed much more put together. For starters, you had an actual lunchbox, a bulky and vibrant plastic thing with Snoopy sleeping on his dog house on the front. Inside, there was your own ziploc bag of green grapes, a can of Coke, and a sandwich cut into triangles. White bread, crunchy peanut butter, and grape jelly. A Little Debbies Swiss Rolls pack sitting on the corner of your desk for dessert. 

He’s mid chew on the final bite of his sandwich, half his Pepsi left, his pretzels being the first thing devoured, when you speak up. Your own sandwich having on triangle section left, grapes gone, and Coke untouched. 

“Have you always lived in Hawkins?” 

You’re wiping your mouth with a folded paper towel, curious eyes focused on him. You’re very good at that, he’s realized. Eye contact. Focusing on your center of attention. Eddie has never been good at it, having to remind himself to look at the person talking to him. It’s polite, Wayne would say, shows people you’re listening and interested in what they have to say. Eddie gets so worked up in remembering to seem focused, he loses it and doesn’t hear what’s being said. He hasn’t had that problem with you so far. He thinks he could look at and listen to you all day if you let him. 

“Born and bred,” he swallowed his bite and shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hands together to get the crumbs off, “you’re not though, are you. Feel like I’d remember you,” he raises an eyebrow. Feeling a little more confident in himself, especially with the obvious signs of you not being a local, and gives a playful smirk. 

“You got me,” you hold your hands up in mock surrender, moving your arms back to rest your elbows on the edge of the desk, “I’m from Georgia.” 

Eddie nods, the seat cushion making sense now. It’s your home team for… sports. A sport. Probably football. Eddie mentally pats himself on the back for guessing it was a sports team. Good on him for knowing sports. (Eddie doesn’t know sports.) 

“So,” Eddie lulls, small talk never being his forte. Much more interested in getting into the nitty gritty of conversation when interested in someone but he doesn’t know you yet. He needs to find something to relate with you on and he can’t do that with tidbits he may know from growing up in town like he could other people his age or older here. “You’re like a southern chick,” it was your turn to grimace.  

“You’re really bad at this,” you snort and shake your head, finishing up the last of your own sandwich. Tidying up your desk, throwing away the ziploc bag and sandwich wrapping and paper towels. Opening the coke can and moving the swiss rolls pack to in front of you, looking back to Eddie. With a tilt of your head and saccharine grin you ask, “Splitsies?” 

He nods at the opportunity to get a sweet little treat before addressing your initial comment, “Small talk requires talking and I just don’t really do that anymore with people who don’t already know me or just have a preconceived idea of who I am,” he shrugs his shoulders again, voice softer, slight regret in being too real. Eyes watching your fingers open the package, folding another paper towel (which he has now realized are coming from a roll kept in the lowest drawer of your desk), and setting one of the processed roll cakes on the indented paper before placing it in front of Eddie’s seated and slouched body. “Thank you,” He looks back up to you and you’re already looking at him. 

“Virginia told me a lot about you,” you smirk, lifting your own cake to take a bite. Your eyes not leaving his except for split a second to give an appreciative glance and hum to the cream filled ‘pastry.’  

“We’ve been corresponding for months,” you snicker at your own use of the word, making you feel like some sort of 18th century countess or captain, rather than a young nurse taking over the position of an older nurse.  

He looks panicked at this reveal. Which is cute considering he had a bit of white cream on his upper lip. Although he looked so pretty when his brow furrowed, it was clear he was frightened so you were quick to reassure him. 

“All good things, of course. I think she’s just worried about you. It’s cute, really, just really cute.” Another kind smile on your lips and your hand holding out the paper towel - his now eaten roll was sat on - as hint for him to clean his mouth off. 

Eddie knew Virgina wasn’t one to gossip but the prospect of a rare new person in town he’s actually interested in, being privy to all his shit-uations without him telling them himself, scared him. But Virginia did love to meddle and that may be worse. She was a big supporter of Eddie needing friends his own age.  

Letting out a sigh of relief that his tragic history had yet to be exposed, Eddie returned your smile with his own half one. You reach into your desk again, pulling out a letter instead of paper towels this time. ‘Edward’ scrawled in a familiar, loopy handwriting with blue ink on the white envelope caught his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and intrigue.  

You hold it out for him to take like it was something precious, “This is for you.” From Virginia, is unspoken but recognized between the both of you. Who else would it have been from. Eddie flushing as he realized, Virginia never told him about you. Virginia never even told Eddie she’d be leaving. They didn’t speak much, or really at all, during the summer unless they happened to run into each other outside of these brick walls.  

Callused finger pads grazed your palm when he took the letter from you, he kept his eyes focused on examining the letter. A sad smile on his lips appreciating the loops of the E and W and curves of the D’s. Realistically he knew Virginia probably wasn’t gonna be gone from Hawkins forever, she had roots here. A son. That’s son kid or maybe kids now, he wasn’t sure, hadn’t checked in on Rick since he got out of jail in ‘88. But it still hurt that she was gone, without a word, and was happy enough to talk to her replacement about him but not to him about her. You. 

“I’m gonna read this later,” he mumbles and puts the offending but appreciated letter in his deep pocket. A quick glance at his watch read it’s been about an hour since making his way into the nurses office, lunch was over. He threw his trash out in the bin by your desk and gave you a friendly smile, standing from the seat in front of your desk. 

“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” eyes shifting around the office again, not really taking things in, just needing to not get trapped back into your gaze. “Ya know, with my lunches free now and everything,” he humorlessly chuckles. 

“Eddie,” you spoke softer than you had before, a more sympathetic smile on your lips, “I’d really like that.” 

He looks at you now. You have really shiny eyes. What a weird observation, Eddie thinks, but it’s true. With a quick wave of his hand before retreating them back into his pocket, fingers playing with the paper edges of Virginias letter. He begins his trek out the door.  

“Hey, next time though,” he stumbles in a spin to walk backwards while speaking, “We’ll speak more about you than about me. Feel’s like you know too much about me,” he huffs with a smug smile before spinning back to look forward. “See ya, Peach.” 

Your sweet laughter follows him out into the hall. You call out, “See ya, Eddie,” to his retreating back, watching the door long after he’s left.  

“Peach,” you snort and shake your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip to stop from smiling too wide. 

the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3

comment or ask to be added to the clean up crew!

[starlight-lesbians]

for the Taco Bell au, how did everyone get their jobs? like their reason and the process? (sorry if this has been asked already)

OK SO-

Greaseball was the first of the group to start there, she was 16 and didn’t want to work at her dad’s mechanic shop anymore. The elusive “Real Adult” GM at the Taco Bell hired her on to the night shift and then pretty much left her to her own devices. The shift lead at that time basically just showed her the basics and then quit, so she got shoved into the shift lead role FAST, probably when she was like 17-18

Dinah was hired at 15, just about a month after Greasey. It was her first job, and Momma and Rusty were family friends, so it was pretty natural for her to work there

Slick, Lumber, and Porter all got hired around the same time right after a bunch of night shift people quit, they were the first people Greaseball had a hand in hiring bc she got thrown into way too much responsibility really fast

Hydra got hired about a month later, rolled the most perfect burrito anyone had seen in his first week and was immediately the most valuable employee there besides Greasey

Belle and Tassita got hired within a week of each other, which was pretty uneventful, just both needed jobs since they were moving out on their own for the first time

Electra started just a little after Dinah I think, they were like 17 and coming off of interning at their dad's company, just really needed to not be in an office

Pearl got hired about right when the fic officially starts, she's Dinah's roommate in campus housing and Dinah gets her the job. Momma sees this girl who's moved super far from her family for school and just adopts her immediately

Rusty started out helping his mom at the cafe, but he decided he didn't want to officially work there since his mom being his boss would be kinda weird. He wanted to be close enough to still hitch a ride with her sometimes though, so Taco Bell lol

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Night Nurse - Ch 7

A John Wick x Helen Fic

When nurse Helen Morgan is caught in the crossfire of a shootout and aids the injured John Wick, she’s faced with two options: serve the High Table, or be executed as a Witness. She tells herself her choice to work at the Continental has everything to do with survival, and excellent pay, and *not* her growing feelings for the Tall, Dark, and Handsome Assassin™ who got her into this mess in the first place, thank you very much. │ Masterlist / Chapter Map │

VII.

“You did good,” he complimented.

“I did good?” she scoffed. “That was like a movie. Is your life always like this?”

He thought a little bit about that while turning onto the ramp to the highway. “More or less.”

He didn’t get shot at in broad daylight very often. Usually his opponents were smarter than that. More discreet, at the very least.

Luckily, no blue and white sirens appeared in his rear view. There were certain cops in the area who would recognize his car and not pay his hijinx much mind, unless they absolutely had to. More likely though, he’d simply outrun any sluggish response the city might have offered.

Unless Igor and Alexei could get their ride flipped back over, he had a feeling they would be having an annoying little chat with the fuzz. The thought made him feel slightly better, though his overall sense of resignation didn’t subside. The fact of the matter was, they had shot at him, and that was a thing John Wick the Baba Yaga couldn’t let slide.

He would have to do something about it. That was a fact of their world. Any sign of weakness would be pounced upon. Usually this was a thing he would have dealt with quickly and efficiently, but…he didn’t want to go hunting that evening. He wanted to make dinner for this beautiful woman beside him, and linger over a bottle of good wine. Usually self-discipline wasn’t an issue for John, but this once, just this once…

The rest of the trip was uneventful—as uneventful as driving in the Big Apple could ever be. However, John didn’t really relax until the city views gave way to the pastoral, the landscape shifting from the angular grays and browns of buildings to the welcome softer lines and greens of early spring. It was about an hour’s trip, all in all, and Helen looked around curiously as they motored up his manicured driveway, slipping into the garage.

“Wow,” she said quietly as they went through the mudroom to the kitchen, the cavernous open living area filled with natural light from the wall of windows. “So modern.”

“I guess so,” John shrugged, dropping his keys in the bowl on the counter.

“It’s definitely not what I would have pegged for you,” she admitted as she stood on the cusp of the living room, looking around. There was no negativity in her words, more a statement about her own perceptions of him.

John joined her in looking around, curious if there was something he’d missed.

“What would you have guessed?”

“Something darker, maybe. More traditional. You seem to gravitate towards classics.” From his suits to his taste in books to his vintage car, he supposed she wasn’t wrong, and thus far those were the only things she knew of him.

With hands in his pockets he looked around. He realized he was about to share something he’d never told anyone; it came so naturally, with her. “I only realized this a few months after moving in…but I think I bought a luxury version of the Soviet orphanage I grew up in.”

He thought back on the cold concrete building that had been home for years of his young life in Belarus. The hard angles, the utilitarian design. Ugly, but cheap to build in a pinch when housing was needed for the numerous parentless children of the USSR.

This home took those design principles and made them into something beautiful. In this rich country, the most basic modern building materials of concrete and steel were transformed into luxurious commodities for the rich. It mirrored his own transformation in a way. The hungry but stubborn child, ragged but determined to survive—and now, a man of means, living comfortably. The American Dream, or some version of it.

She turned back to regard him, compassion in her eyes. He hadn’t imparted the information to garner sympathy; it was just the truth. She had a way of bringing it out of him. He realized he wanted her to know him. The real him, outside of the legend she’d been gossiped to about at the Continental.

But rather than coo over him, you poor thing, I’m so sorry, she simply canted her head. “So, this house is like your ‘Fuck you’ to Communism?”

It was also the exact opposite of the shabby elegance, the opulent but crumbling ormolu mouldings and dark enclaves of the Tarkovsky theatre, another place he did not miss.

He smiled a little, in spite of himself. “Yeah. Something like that.”

She nodded, looking around with approval. “Nice. So, you like it, then?”

He looked through the windows, across the expanse of his yard to the tree line. Beyond that, there was a glimmer of water in the distance. The travails of the city were a distant dream there. He’d bought this house under the name of a shell corporation; one could not easily look up where John Wick lived in the real estate records. It truly was a sanctuary. And now, for the first time, in fact, a beautiful woman was standing in his kitchen, looking through him with her wise, bright, eyes. It made this place feel like a home more than any couch or table or painting, and he wondered what it would take to convince her to stay.

“Yeah. It’s peaceful.”

“I’m happy for you, John.”

Strangely enough, he believed her. After that, he didn’t know where he got the cheek to tease her. “Thanks, for not calling me a rich asshole to my face.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just for that, I’m going to make you carry my bag.” Hefting the thing, she handed it over.

“Oof. What’s in this? Bricks?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” With an insouciant look over her shoulder, she began to wander down the hall like she owned the place. Allowing himself a borderline dopey smile with her back turned, John made to follow.

***

“I think we’ll start with the basics. Do you know how to throw a punch?”

Helen placed a hand on a spandex-clad hip, one eyebrow raised high. “Do I give the impression I grew up on the yuppy side of Boston? I’ve been in a scrap or two.”

They were in his home gym, a large room he used to exercise and train, and he was fairly certain the sight of her in form-fitting yoga clothes was going to be the death of him.

The corners of John’s mouth turned up, delighted by her sass, as usual. “Yeah? Have I got a juvenile delinquent on my hands here?” He couldn’t fathom a young Helen getting up to much, in the grand scheme of things. Shoplifting. Possession. The usual mischief teenagers amused themselves with. He’d been running guns by the time he was fourteen. Killed for the first time when he was sixteen. Most teen misdeeds paled, in comparison.

As soon as the words left his mouth Helen froze.

After a few awkward seconds she remarked, “Did Winston tell you?” There was a strain in her words, and he knew he’d stuck his foot in it somehow. Sighing heavily, she looked off to the punching bag hanging in the corner of the room, avoiding his eyes. “That man is a terrible gossip.”

“Tell me what?” asked John, feeling like things had jumped from point A to point F and he’d missed everything in between.

Helen, however, kept skipping ahead, talking to herself as much as him. “I wondered if that was why you mentioned blade training today. The record’s supposed to be sealed, but I guess he has his ways of finding things out.”

“I…am completely lost here,” admitted John, and only then did she look at him again. “Did you stab someone?” The suggestion seemed ludicrous, but Helen’s frown conveyed a multitude of words.

“Would you believe me if I told you he had it coming?” 

To his credit, only a beat passed before John answered, “Absolutely.”

“That's something, I guess.” 

“Give me a name.” It was becoming a theme with them.

“I would...but he's dead.” John’s eyebrows lifted at that. “I didn't kill him,” she quickly amended. “But...I would have. Still think I'm such an angel?”

He could tell that the possibility that he might think less of her hurt her.

“Yes,” he answered, unequivocally.

“Well. You do kill people for a living…” She tried to muster a smile, but it was an extremely watered-down version of her usual radiant offering. “I don’t think you enjoy it though.”

“No.” It was true. He thrived on the adrenaline of completing a difficult task—but the actual killing brought him neither joy nor much pain, these days. He’d numbed himself to it. “Did you enjoy…what you did?” He had to admit this was not a conversation he’d ever expected to have with this woman.

She crossed her arms over herself, sighing again. “In a way?” A nervous little laugh escaped her. “God, I’ve never told anyone this before.”

John simply waited, patient as the mountain.

“I guess I should give you some context.”

“Only if you want to.” What he’d meant to be a playful comment had turned into an ordeal for her, and he loathed himself for it. This was what he got for trying to flirt.

She nodded, more to herself than him. “My father died when I was in my early teens. My mom...was a drunk and an addict. It got so much worse after Dad was gone. Some of the men she brought home were very aware of the fact that she was a train wreck with two young girls in the house. Luckily I was older by then, but my sister…” She grimaced, and even after so many years, the flash of rage in her eyes could have started a wildfire. “I caught my mom’s boyfriend trying to corner my little sister in the kitchen. So I stabbed him with a kitchen knife. And in the heat of the moment…it felt good. I hated him. He was creepy and horrible and it felt so good to hurt him.”

John wanted to hold her in that moment, yet he could tell she didn’t want to be touched just then. He understood that all too well, so he simply nodded. “You did what you had to do to defend her.”

“I guess.”

“I think you’re amazing.”

There was a broken note to her laughter. “I know he deserved it. But I think in a way I’ve been trying to make up for what I did to that awful man my whole life. Nothing like Catholic guilt to make a bad situation worse, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He thought for a moment about this information she’d offered up like a confession, eyes lowered. He had a feeling she meant it as a warning, but he couldn’t take it as such. He knew what true evil looked like. He saw it in the mirror every day. This woman was not it. “I do know that your sister is very lucky to have you for a protector. I never had anyone who would have done that for me.”

She took a deep breath, her long fingers holding her throat as she looked at the ceiling, picturing the conditions he’d endured as a child. The thought of him as a scrappy little dark eyed boy with hair in his eyes, fighting for the meagerest crust of bread, lodged her heart directly in her throat. Her voice came barely a whisper. “Was it as awful as I’m imagining it was?”

  “Probably. But my point is…don’t blame yourself for doing what had to be done to survive. For your sister to survive. Blame your mother, if you have to blame anyone.”

That brittle laughter came again that broke John’s heart. “Oh…I do.” She swiped at a tear that escaped the corner of her eye. “Jesus, I’m sorry. Enough pity party. Teach me how to kick some ass.”

And just like that, she was back. He’d always known it in a way, but he found himself more convinced than ever that this woman was tough as nails beneath her warm exterior. Somehow, despite what had happened to her, she had not let the world turn her bitter or mean. That took a strength that John could barely fathom. He felt that he had survived the traumas of his youth out of pure spite. Spite for his captors, and his tormentors, and the dark world he owed fealty to through no real choice of his own. He’d killed and killed until he’d carved out an existence for himself that slightly resembled freedom.

But Helen—she resisted, and kept her heart full all the while, and he’d never admired her more than in that moment. This woman was precious, and he wanted to make sure she had the tools to fight anyone or anything that might dare try to quash that light. It was possible he’d never realized how much he’d numbed himself to the horrors of the world, until she’d entered his life. Now he felt everything to the power of ten. Desire. Fear. Rage. The thought that someone might even dare hurt her made him want to burn the world down. He knew it was crazy, but now that the box had been opened—he didn’t know how to put it all back.

He was realizing there was no going back, and if he’d had any sense left to his name, that would have scared him.

***

He knew it would take a lot more practice for this multitude of information to sink in, but hours later he was proud of Helen’s focus. She absorbed information like a sponge. She was already no stranger to the workings of the human body. As it turned out, taking it apart was almost easier than healing it. He showed her how to attack the vulnerable pressure points in a man’s body. The underarms, the throat, the eyes, the groin. How to break from certain holds on the wrist and how to turn joint locks against them. How to use an opponent’s momentum or own bodyweight against them, so it didn’t matter if they outmuscled you, if surprise was on your side.

Despite his earlier faux pas, he taught her some blade work too. As a student of anatomy, she already knew where the most vulnerable arteries were. The femoral in the leg, the carotid in the neck. The wrists weren’t bad either, and the belly would certainly usually make an aggressor pause and evaluate their life choices. With a small knife concealed in her pocket, he felt comfortable that she could do almost more serious damage than with a gun. He already knew exactly which one from his collection he would be sending with her. 

He would have been a liar, if he’d claimed it didn’t move him to be in such close proximity with her. Touching her. Even if with such a specific purpose in teaching her how to defend herself, there was a titillation he hadn’t anticipated. Training had always been about survival. Now, after they had been at it all day with only a short lunch break, exhaustion and maybe a lowering of guard was setting in.

“One more time, then we’ll call it,” he insisted.

Helen answered with a pout of lips that played hell with his resolve. “But I’m tiiiired.”

“I know. You’ve done great, and I’m proud of you. Kick my ass one more time.”

“Yeah, right.”

She looked him up and down, taking in his lean form, the corded muscles of his arms deliciously bare in his black sleeveless shirt. He’d been slowly driving her mad throughout this training session. It took every iota of her concentration to focus on what he was trying to teach, with those large hands touching her. To not utterly melt, like in every delightfully bad bosom-buster romance she’d ever read. She’d known John was strong, in theory. He had to be, to do what he did. However, it was quite another matter to experience that inexorable strength first hand, even while she knew he was being exceedingly gentle.

“It will make me feel better about unleashing you back onto the world.” He couldn’t watch her back 24/7, as much as maybe he would have liked to.

“Ok. One more, then I will be officially pooped.” They assumed the position, the way they had countless times that day, John standing close at her back with his arm around her waist, his other hand resting lightly at her throat. After several seconds Helen released a shaky breath. Centering herself, John reasoned. Reviewing her options. Probably not enjoying the fleeting moment of closeness, the way he was, because he was a sick bastard.

The moments of stillness stretched on, their awareness of each other amplified by this exquisite nearness.  

“Are you going to do something about this?” He didn’t mean to whisper it. He really didn’t. But she was so close, and her scent of sweat and that sweet honeyed herbal soap drove him to the edge of sanity.

In answer Helen leaned back slightly, closing the line of their bodies that were damp with sweat from the day’s exertions. Nerves he didn’t even know he had came to attention, leaving him painfully aware of this woman in his arms. He held her weight effortlessly, his grip tightening of its own accord about her waist.

He never wanted to let her go.

She turned her head, their lips agonizingly close to touching. One hard intake of breath was all that stood between them. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. “You make it hard to want to get away,” she answered in equally hushed tones, as though they were in a church, and not the place where he daily honed his deadly trade.

“Helen…” He didn’t know what he was asking for, in saying her name like prayer. Benediction, absolution, or damnation.

She touched the tip of her nose to his lightly, experimentally. How well they fit. John Wick was not a man to give in to nerves, but he realized his hand on her throat shook ever so slightly.

He’d never wanted anyone, the way he wanted her.

Her eyes fell to his mouth, a tell as to her thoughts if ever there was one.

Then her gaze dropped lower, and those beautiful eyes went wide as saucers. “Shit, you’re bleeding!” A smear of tell-tale red glistened across his shoulder.

The magic of the moment shattered like glass on stone as she turned in his arms, all business as she wrenched back the shoulder of his shirt to see. “You’ve pulled your stitches. I was afraid this would happen. John…you are a hazard.” The exasperation in her tone was mostly endearing.

Indeed, the newest wound on his shoulder had opened a little. Blood seeped from the small tear in his flesh, running down his pectoral.

“Sorry.”

She shook her fist up at him, though her smile belayed any ill feeling. “Well, you wanted to know what was in my bag. It’s mostly the Costco-size first aid kit I’ve put together for hanging around with you.”

“Lucky me.” He tried not to betray his disappointment, still feeling as though live electricity crackled over his skin, desire tying his insides up in knots. This woman would be the end of him. It took everything he had not to grab her up and kiss her silly, his noble intentions and his pulled stitches be damned.  

“We’ll see. Alright, where’s my operating room? Bathroom? Kitchen?”

“How about…the dining room.”

“Okay, it’s your furniture.”

“I’m not bleeding that much.” He certainly wasn’t bleeding enough to want to stop what they had been about to do.

Maybe there was something wrong with him.

This was probably for the best, but why did it have to hurt so much? Worse than his wound, by far.

“Lead the way.”

<<CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 8>>

[come-away-with-me87]

Love & Angst Chapter 6

Chapter 5 here

Warning: Forgive me on this one if there are typos or whatevs. I had a big 'ol glass of wine after a looong work week while writing this chapter, hehe. We're still in the fluffy stage of this budding romance, but I promise there will be some angst in later chapters. As always, thank you for reading and sharing my love of Aizawa!

******

About an hour after you got home, you picked up your phone where you left it on the kitchen counter. You had a huge smile on your face as you read the missed text from Shouta. You texted him back as soon as you read it, "so did I, Shouta. I look forward to seeing you again too :)" After sending that text, you called Naomi. Without hesitation, without any greetings, she practically yelled when she picked up the phone, "WELL! HOW DID IT GO?!" You laughed, and proceeded to tell her about it, ending it with saying how you had a very nice evening with him.

You couldn't miss this opportunity to ask Naomi about her and Present Mic while you had her on the phone. "HAHA, 'ol scruffy tired eyes said that?! It was just a little harmless flirting, nothing to write home about!" You let it go at that, but did decide to dig a little deeper next time you worked together. You two talked on the phone for a little while longer, eventually hanging up with your usual, "love you!" After hanging up with Naomi, you went on to call Shoto with the intention of asking him how the gala went. He didn't pick up, so you just left him a voicemail asking him to call you whenever he had some free time. Surely he was hanging out with his friends in the dorm at the school, and would rather be doing that than talking to his aunt on the phone. You then went to your bedroom, set your alarm on your phone for the next, and fell into a peaceful sleep, dreaming about a "scruffy, tired eyed, ebony-colored hair" man.

The next few days were pretty uneventful. You weren't scheduled for any shifts at the restaurant, so you just had your job at the city hall. The only thing that concerned you was...you hadn't heard from Shouta since your date. Over the course of those few days, you talked with Naomi some more, and even Shoto called you back to talk about how the gala went and how school was going. But not a peep from Shouta. You truly were not sure what the protocol was when it came to texting. He didn't respond to your text on Sunday evening after your date, but there was really no reason to; it was a reply to what he said first. Should you have texted him again at some point, or should he have texted you? You tried your best to not overthink it; you knew he was busy being a teacher during the day, and an underground hero at night.

Nevertheless, you thought about him...a lot. Even though your encounters with him have been relatively brief, thus far, he all but consumed your thoughts. No person, especially a man, has ever had this kind of effect on you; not even any of the men you previously dated. You couldn't stop thinking about his beautiful dark hair and dark eyes; his scruffy facial hair, and his mysterious aura. He intrigued you like no one else ever had in your lifetime. Oh boy.

It was Friday afternoon, you just got off from your shift at city hall, and you were just sitting on your couch decompressing from the day and week. As if he was reading your obsessive mind from before, you suddenly received a text from him: "Hi Y/N. I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to reach out you, but I've been thinking of you. Hizashi and some of the others are dragging me out tonight to the bar. It really would be nice to see you again. Would you like to join us?" You read the text and felt your heart pounding in your chest. While you would much prefer to spend some time with just the two of you, you were still excited at his proposition. You took a minute to think about it, and instead of responding to him right away, you instantly texted Naomi: "let's go out tonight." If you were going to do this, you wanted there to someone you also knew. You knew she was off from the bar that night, and quickly replied back, "sure?" She knew you were more of a homebody, so you could understand her hesitancy.

You went on to explain about Shouta texted you asking you to join him and his friends at the bar, and she had a much better understanding of the situation, and told you she'd be happy to accompany you. You were forever in her debt, she was such an amazing friend. You finally texted Shouta back, "I'd love to. Would you guys mind if I brought Naomi with?" He replied back saying that wouldn't be a problem at all, and everyone agreed upon 8pm as the meeting time.

You started getting ready for the night, and went to your closet to decide what to wear. Since you were going to a bar as opposed to a cat cafe, you decided to switch things up a bit for that night. You decided to keep your hair down again, using your curling iron to add a few waves. You opted for a nice black dress that went right to your knees, but still accentuated your curves. You still didn't want to go overboard with your makeup, so once again, you just opted for a bit of mascara. This time, though, you also decided to wear a tinted lip gloss. Finally, you picked out a pair of red kitten heels to wear with your dress. You looked in the mirror and decided you looked acceptable. No one was harder on you than you, so that was the best compliment you would ever be able to give yourself.

Around 7:30pm, you left your house to go pick up Naomi. Since she was gracious enough to come with you tonight, the least you could do was drive so she could drink and have some fun. When you pulled up, she was standing outside waiting for you. Once she got in your car, she eyed you up and down and exclaimed, "you look HOT, mama!" You blushed at the compliment, and quietly thanked her; besides the fact that you could barely compliment yourself, taking compliments from others was even worse. She looked amazing, too. She was wearing a tight mini-dress with stiletto heels, and her makeup and hair looked beautiful. She was a complete knockout, and you wished you had her self-confidence. You two took the car ride to gab about the drama at the restaurant, when you suddenly arrived to the bar right a little after 8:00pm.

You and Naomi found a spot in the busy parking lot and walked inside. It took about two minutes, but after looking around the busy bar to find your group, you finally spotted Hizashi's mohawk sticking out from one of the booths. You guys walked over the booth and said hello to everyone, which included the same group that was at the restaurant last weekend; Shouta, Hizashi, Toshinori, and Nemuri. You all exchanged your hellos, and you and Naomi each took a seat at either side at the end of the booth; you were next to Toshinori, and she was next to Nemuri. Right next to Toshinori sat Shouta, and next to Nemuri sat Hizashi. "Hey, Y/N," exclaimed Toshinori, "do you mind if we actually switch seats? I don't plan on staying late since I can't drink, so I'd like to be able to easily slip out once I'm ready to leave." You could've kissed him on the cheek right then and there; you knew what he said was true, but there was also an underlying meaning; he wanted you to sit next to Shouta. Sly dog.

You two switched seats, and suddenly, you found yourself sitting next to Shouta. He was dressed very similarly to the way he was at the cat cafe last weekend, and he looked delectable. He gave you a small smile as you and Toshinori switched seats and whispered in your ear, "you look incredible." It was such an small statement, but it made you blush very hard and made your whole body feel like jello; you were very grateful you were sitting down. You shyly whispered back to him, "thank you, so do you." Before you felt even more like jello, the server then suddenly came over and to get the drink orders of the newcomers. You ordered a white wine, and Naomi ordered some sort of girly, fruity drink. It was weird for both of you to be on this side of things, since you two were used to being the ones serving others. It was a nice feeling.

The conversation flowed very easily between the six of you for the next hour or so, involving a lot of laughing and talking about the antics of the students at the U.A.. Toshinori took his leave around 9:15pm; you gave him a big hug and whispered a thank you into his ear as he was getting up. He just smiled knowingly at you, and took the opportunity to say his goodbyes to everyone. The drinks kept flowing at this point, and the others, mainly Naomi, Hizashi and Nemuri, took the opportunity to go get down on the dance floor, leaving you and Shouta at the booth alone. He grinned, "I guess you could tell who the extroverts are versus the introverts at this table." You audibly laughed at his statement; he had no idea.

You and Shouta sat in a comfortable silence while watching the others dance. As expected, Naomi and Hizashi seemed to be really hitting it off, often found dancing with each other. Nemuri seemed to be off in her own little world; you could tell the alcohol was taking its effect on the three of them, while you were still nursing your first and only glass of wine. Shouta was still on his first drink, as well; a whiskey on the rocks. He suddenly stated, "do you want to go outside and get some fresh air? It's getting a little stuffy in here." You readily agreed, and as you got up, you two let the others know you were going to step outside for a bit. They couldn't care less; they were off in their own worlds dancing.

You two stepped outside into the chilly evening air; it felt so nice. As if he was reading your mind, he exclaimed "this is much better." You smiled up at him and replied, "agreed." Instead of talking, you two instead found yourselves just staring into each other's eyes. And you didn't feel uncomfortable in the slightest. All of a sudden, you felt his warm hand caressing your cheek, and instinctively, you leaned into it. As you two were still looking into each other's eyes, he leaned down and captured your mouth in a kiss. It was just a simple kiss, but you felt like you were on top of the word. You lifted up your arms and wrapped them around his shoulders, and kissed him back, to which he responded by placing his arms around your waist.

******

To be continued!

[chiakery]

Imogen had a bad habit of not noticing that something tremendous was happening until way later.

She didn’t realise when her father’s reluctance to be near her had started. There must have been a number of situations that marked the shift in their relationship, a gradual process that caused them to fall apart but, as far as she was concerned, one day both of them were sitting side to side on the porch, scraping the horse shit from their boots after a day of work in the stables, and the very next day she was alone, stigmatised and avoided by people she had once considered friends.

It was the same with her relationship with Laudna. Imogen didn’t realise something had changed until one winter evening, months after they'd met. There wasn’t even anything particularly remarkable about that night - the snow had settled on the ground a week or two before, they'd found shelter in a barn on the outskirts of the village, their host letting them stay there after Imogen helped him with brewing herbs for his horse. It wasn’t the most pleasant or dire place they’ve stayed. The days were a string of uneventful sunrises and sunsets with bits of work and a lot of talking in between them. All that Imogen knew was that at the end of one such day Laudna had made them tea and when she crawled underneath their pile of blankets and handed Imogen one of the cups, she saw in Launda’s eyes that she would have opened her ribcage and stash Imogen inside if she knew it would keep her warm. And suddenly she realised that she was in love with Laudna too, even if she couldn’t put her finger on the moment when the fondness in her heart had morphed into something so terrifyingly beautiful.

Now it happened again, this momentary blindness or ignorance that has already stolen so many important moments from Imogen’s life and it felt like a curse and a blessing at the same time.

Is she your favourite?

This too, Imogen didn’t fully grasp until much later.

She did of course see the horror of a blade moving through the body, piercing through paper-thin skin, sliding silently between two perfect ribs; the bloom of crimson, scarlet, ruby painting the front of the dress. But the implication of this was lost to her. She didn’t see any difference between this and any of the other dozen of fights they’ve been in, and each of them had ended with both Laudna and her breathing and holding each other close.

(She knew it was different this time. The thing is, Imogen grew to be able to lie to everyone - including herself.)

[gamdaughter]

DAY 1 ON THE SURFACE:

Dear everybody,

The surface is so interesting! ... Well, also pretty frightening, but I'll get to that. It's not very different from underground, I think, but the plants up here are way brighter! There are a lot more beings in the rainforest than just the small insects underground. I almost got attacked by a tiger today... Which is what Irminsul said, anyway. Nonetheless, it is of course waaaaaaaaaaay brighter than downstairs. Of course most of the plants are fluorescent themselves, but above, there's less glowy plants and are instead brightened by the Sun! The big ball of fire that I was warned about. Luckily, though I feel the heat of it's flames, it's not very scary! It's pretty far away, and even though it looks like I can grasp it with my hands, it's very far. Probably a lot bigger than I assume. 

I did meet a human today, however! She was.. A little scary! Speaking of humans, they don't wear kaunakes up here! That was slightly expected but it's good to have my assumptions confirmed! Well. Maybe. Maybe the lady I met was an exception! She's a healer, and her name is Natalia. A doctor! Apparently she's a clone of a man named Il Dottore.. Which does just mean 'doctor', doesn't it? But that's not very important. I think she called me dense.. She compared me to someone who she referred to with a slight contempt and annoyance. I'm assuming this person she was referring to.. 'Webttore'? He sounded like someone who is not smart. Natalia basically said I was slower than him. 

Not great. However! I can blame it on the fact I'm still practicing Teyvat's language! ... Well, not BLAME, per se, but as to determine the root cause of my 'slowness'. I'm not slow!! I'm just processing things twice over because I have to translate through my head first! Did I mention she also has four arms? Four!! Humans don't usually have those. And the extra pair of arms was made out of metal!! She said they were a gift from Il Dottore.

Doctor Natalia also said that once she recovers(she was in pretty bad shape! She started bleeding mid-conversation and I tried to give her a Sumeru Rose to eat. She ate some tablets instead. Embarrassing..) she would(could? I forgot!!!) install mechanical parts into my brain to help me learn Teyvat's language faster. That was absolutely terrifying. So I kind of ran away! I don't think it was rude of me to do that. Hopefully. She kind of turned away after I said good bye and then I ran off. 

Is it wrong of me to hope I never have to talk to her again..?

Missing home already,

Geegee

The rest of the day following Geegee's encounter had gone relatively uneventful. She had explored a bit, climbed some trees, tried to approach a tree village and gotten scared, (she also met a mermaid but we dont have to talk about that yet..) and set up camp as the sun slowly disappeared, the sky turning warm tones of orange and red. She didn't need one, really, but it was reassuring to have. Now, as she scribbled down little notes onto leaf pads, the girl found herself missing home a lot more than she had anticipated. She had really only been here for less than a day! 10 hours at most! But she missed the cooler atmosphere of underground. She missed her friends, she missed her older sister of sorts.. She missed her grandma. Gamgam, so she affectionately dubs her.

Just when would she be allowed to return? The council had never specified. Just what really was she supposed to be doing on the surface? How would she figure it out? As the sky shifted from warm tones to the cool of the night, the girl tucked her leaf away, laying on her back to listen to the rustle of leaves and watch the new, gentler orb above. The moon. Maman Malikata. The girl reached up to grab it with one hand, but she was quickly reminded she was too far away.

geegee's journal - link to thread - next entry

[duskyashe]

CAMP NANO DAY 26

[First] [Previous] [AO3]

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Mischief, better known as Stiles now, had had an overall uneventful past five and a half years since he Wished Peter Hale back into full health. Sure, there'd been some... Challenges with trying to incorporate a werewolf, two humans, and a never-before-seen alpha werepolar bear as a single, cohesive unit, especially when said alpha werepolar bear was the youngest of the entire unit and was an actual child who was trying to lay claim to and manage a territory that had previously been held by a respectably sized werewolf pack with only a single beta of his own. So, overall not the easiest thing to do, but, well. They had managed pretty well thus far, and things had gotten much easier after the first two years had gone by without the Stilinski Pack ("Sleuth!" "We are not calling ourselves a sleuth, Mischief, and that is final." "Uuuughh. Fine.") giving a single inch in terms of territory disputes. It had gotten to the point that Stiles was finally able to just focus on normal teenager things, like worrying about his only friend in the entire school.

Isaac Lahey was one of three kids his age in the entire school that wasn't either a complete douche canoe or a simple minded sycophant, but Erica Reyes couldn't get through a simple conversation with him without nearly passing out from blushing too much, and Vernon Boyd didn't talk to anyone, so that left Isaac. Whom Stiles was about ninety-three percent certain was being abused at home, though he only had circumstantial evidence that could, sadly, be easily written off as the results of simple teenaged clumsiness and a natural result of playing a contact sport. It frustrated the sixteen year old to no end that, even in the off season for lacrosse, he just didn't have enough evidence to prove his friend was in an unsafe environment at home. Even when he's suspiciously absent the day after the results of the first big exam after the school year began were sent home. Stiles had seen the way Isaac had paled when he'd seen his grade the day before, the way his friend seemed to shut down the closer the end of the school day came. By the time school ended, Isaac had practically gone comatose and had to basically be guided onto his bus. When Isaac hadn't shown up to first period that morning, Stiles had been concerned but hadn't really thought too much about it, he'd been late to school before, after all. But now it was lunch time, and Stiles hadn't seen hide nor hair of his friend since just after school the day before, and he was getting genuinely worried for him.

Stiles had almost made up his mind to text his dad about a possible missing person's case when suddenly a lunch tray was set down next to his own. Startled out of his thoughts, Stiles looked up, hoping beyond hope that it was just Isaac, but his senses caught up to him as his new table companion sat down. "Stilinski," Jackson Whittemore said, looking everywhere but at Stiles, and lacking the usual hostility he held towards him.

"Whittemore," he replied, more than a little confused and extremely wary of what the head douche canoe wanted from him.

"I noticed Lahey has been absent today," the blond remarked idly as he started digging into his food, acting as though him sitting amicably with Stiles wasn't the absolute weirdest thing to happen in years.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Jackson and started on his own food. "Yeah, I noticed," Stiles agreed hesitantly, honestly thrown by the blond's shift in attitude. He took a barely noticeable sniff and caught the scent of deep frustration and fury nearly masked by some rather potent determination and Jackson's expensive cologne.

Jackson hummed around a mouthful before swallowing. "Y'know, I heard some awfully suspicious sounds coming from across the street last night," he offered as he glanced at Stiles from the corner of his eye. "Figured you'd like to know."

Taking another discreet sniff, Stiles could smell Jackson's honesty and his helplessness. Jackson was desperate to help Isaac, Stiles suddenly realized. He made a split second decision and pulled out his phone.

Me: is papa working tonight?

Mom: He's planning on it, why?

Me: got a new project im gonna be working on, he might wanna claim plausible deniability

Mom: Stiles...

Me: nothing outright illegal! Or that would get me in trouble!

Me: i think.

Me: would plotting to get a friend out of a dangerous situation with a potentially former enemy count as something that would get me in trouble?

Mom: I'll make sure Peter's home...

Me: thanks mama, youre the best!

"My house, after school, bring Danny and any evidence you have," Stiles said putting his phone away and going back to his lunch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jackson relax as a brief whiff of relief entered the blond's scent. "My dad's at work tonight, so anything not outright illegal is fair game. We're breaking Isaac out of there as soon as we have something substantial we can give my dad."

Jackson pocketed his apple and grabbed his mostly empty lunch tray before standing up. "Deal, Stilinski. See you after school. Later, loser," he called as he walked away, though the insult was almost... Teasing, in a way.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Jackass!" Stiles playfully called back. Jackson gave him the bird over his shoulder which almost sent Stiles laughing hysterically. Who knew the thing they needed to get over their childhood animosity of each other was a shared goal and a common enemy that didn't have anything to do with lacrosse?

=============×∆×=============

It took the three of them just over three weeks to finally gather enough evidence of abuse to compile the legally (and mostly legally) obtained stuff for easier access. Danny had been put in charge of anything and everything technological in origin, up to and including (at his own instance) taping into Isaac's attendance record for the current school year. ("Transcribing more than this year's attendance records would look extremely suspicious. We aren't far enough into the school year for it to be too weird for at least Stiles to have been keeping track of Isaac's attendance since school started." "Okay, that's fair, but why do we need to back track his attendance for this year in the first place, isn't what we have already between us enough?" "We're establishing a pattern, which will hopefully lead the authorities to look deeper into his previous attendance records as well as security footage for further evidence that we have no way of legally obtaining on our own." "Alright, that's fair...") Jackson was keeping track of any beatings that got loud enough for him to hear, recording start times, end times, and any points where it seemed things got particularly violent. He did this both on paper and with a high end microphone set up in his window, which faced the Lahey household, recording as much of the audio as possible. Stiles, on the other hand, was keeping track of any and all injuries, their locations, their severity, as well as when they showed up and how fast they seemed to be healing, if they had the opportunity to heal at all. ("I'm telling you, his hands are constantly banged up, and they're definitely not healing!" "Okay, okay, I believe you, I'm sorry I said anything!")

It was early Saturday morning when Stiles entered the sheriff's department with his two new best friends and a thumb drive metaphorically burning a hole in his pocket. "Hey, Tara! Is Dad in his office?" Stiles called out with a wave.

The deputy looked up from her desk with a grin. "Hey yourself, Stiles. Yeah, he's in there, grumbling about all the veggies you and your mom packed into his lunch box again. Don't worry, he's only had a single donut this week, we've been keeping track for you."

Stiles grinned. "You're the best, Tara. You guys are getting a whole apple pie next month as a thank you. Keep up the good work, deputies!" He called as he guided Jackson and Danny toward the sheriff's office, getting various greetings and cheers in response. Catching the confused looks from the duo, Stiles answered their unasked question in a quieter voice. "Dad's got bad cholesterol, but he doesn't appreciate the efforts Mom and I have been going through to decrease his risk factors and likes to sneak junk food as much as possible. Last year, I asked his deputies to help keep an eye on Dad's diet cheating, and I give them a pie when I feel like they've been doing a particularly good job at it. Since it's fall, and since deputy Danvers is allergic to pumpkin, they're getting apple this month."

Jackson made a noise of understanding while Danny nodded in thought. "My parents might have some recipes that you guys could try that are lower on cholesterol and taste really delicious, I could ask them if you'd like," he offered.

Stiles couldn't help but agree. He'd seen Danny's homemade lunches, but more importantly, he'd smelled them, and he could say without a shadow of a doubt that his papa would have a hard time saying no to anything the Mahealani's gave them to try.

Soon enough, though, they'd made it to the office. Stiles knocked a pattern, specifically chosen to let his dad know this wasn't just a social visit without letting others know anything was amiss. Without waiting for an answer, Stiles swung the door open with gusto and exclaimed, "Hey, there, Daddio! How's work been treating you?" He walked in and gestured the other two in to sit down. Once they were in, he shut the door and immediately got down to business. "We have cause to believe that Isaac Lahey is being abused, almost nightly, by his father," he said, tossing the thumb drive onto his father's desk before walking over to lean against the wall with his arms crossed against his chest.

=============×∆×=============

Noah blinked at his son and the two mostly familiar faces sitting across from him before looking down at the thumb drive sitting oh so innocently on his desk and sighed. "Please tell me there's nothing on here that will force me to arrest one or all of you?"

Stiles scoffed in mock offense. "Excuse you, sir, do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, my son," Noah deadpanned, already reaching out for the thumb drive. All jokes aside, he knew his son well enough to know that if he was giving him the thumb drive at the office, it was at least mostly clean and wouldn't criminally incriminate any of the three teenagers currently in his office. Now, if he'd handed it to him at home... All bets were off.

As his son played up his spluttering, Noah inserted the drive into his work desktop and waited for it to load, taking the time to really observe the two young men sitting across from him. It took him a moment to place them as Jackson Whittemore and Danny Mahealani, the new captain and the goalie for the school's lacrosse team. They were also, according to his wife, kids who Stiles used to barely tolerate but was now spending a lot of time with, usually at their house where Peter helped her keep an eye on them. Danny's name and face didn't bring anything specific to mind, other than Stiles telling the pack about how cool Danny was for being openly out of the closet, how everyone at school loved Danny, and that Danny's biggest flaw was the fact that he was best friends with Jackson Whittemore. Jackson, on the other hand, did bring a few things to mind, such as who his adoptive parents were, who his biological parents were, as well as what had happened to them. But it was Jackson's face that was drawing Noah up short. Because he recognized some of those features from his own time in high school, the name of the person they reminded him of was right on the tip of his tongue, but before he could figure it out, the thumb drive had loaded and his attention was pulled to the potential new case the three teens had given him, and all thoughts of who Jackson reminded him of were pushed to the back of his mind.

Oh well. If it was important, it'd come back to him eventually, right?

"Okay, now do the three of you want to walk me through what you've got here?" Noah asked, turning his monitor so that they'd all be able to see. The shared looks of grim determination had Noah stealing himself for the worst. If Stiles wasn't smirking in triumph at finally having something to give him concerning Isaac's home situation, then things had to be pretty bad. Either way, if the law can help, then I'll make sure that kid gets as much help as legally possible, Noah vowed to himself.

=============×∆×=============

TADA! I finally got chapter three of The Polar Bear Necessities written! And yes, there's quite a bit of a time skip between chapter two and chapter three, but for clarity's sake, the events of canon aren't "due" to start until the end of the winter holidays, which are a few months away. It's my understanding that, in canon, Laura was lured back almost exactly six years after the fire, give or take a few weeks, and the fire canonically happened at the beginning of January, so that's what I'm basing my timeline off of (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

I will have you all know, this chapter almost didn't happen because the chapter I was planning on writing today is the one that'll be written next lol it was as I was planning the now fifth chapter that I realized I needed a chapter between chapter two and the chapter I was originally planning on writing today, so I instead wrote this one and all the plotting and brainstorming that I did originally has been set aside for chapter four! (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ I'm just glad I caught it while I was still brainstorming lol if I had already been writing, then I'd have been screwed (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

I hope the interaction between Jackson and Stiles was believable, I have this personal headcanon that, by the time they'd reached high school, 98% of Jackson's problem with Stiles was his over-the-top crush on Lydia as well as his constant defense of Scott McCall (I'm not that big of a Scott McCall fan), so in a world where Stiles had no real reason to befriend Scott while at the hospital, and Claudia was there to help curb the worst of his crush on Lydia, Jackson and Stiles would only be antagonistic towards each other out of habit more than anything else. At least, that's my take on it ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭

Have a good morning/day/night!

[kuraikyu]

@trehontin : " So loud for no reason~ "

ㅤ𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 allay one's own fears. Hundreds of conversations in voices loud as if all of them competing with rock music to dominate the thematic atmosphere. Suguru himself very much wished he could melt into the vibe of this bar and laugh at simple cares he had. But after barely finishing one glass of dry Vermouth, he came to conclusion it would not quiet roving mind, still greatly fatigued if he continued. Too much exorcism brought along too many dark thoughts no one knew about, thus came the inability to do anything else than just blandly remain deeply immersed in established set of attitude by the bar counter.

Elegant facade always in a good mood, the one he daily displayed seemed weary, and his face more lined than one could remember, for thoughts wandered back to his students. A kindred spirit must attend to the hurts of those injured by the curse of their techniques.

'You can't help these kids.' No, and it was true. But there was something he could do ... let them know they are not alone in this mess and somewhere there might be the slightest chance to optimize poultices that will bring them some measure of relief. Yeah, some deep matters are still left undone here. Such reward, should he prevail could be significant for his aid has been requested for this aim. Sometimes he would internally recount to details of each plan. He was hardly a beard of many winters, and still have seen things this day people would not have believed yesterday.

And then - thoughts wandered back to his twin girls. Stronger and madder - with each swallow a shadow of vengeance comes to tap his shoulder, cultivating sacred offers of gold obsidians manifesting amid his fingers. Its currents are strong, bitter, squeezing further his throat like an opiate of poetry crafting a sling knot above the abyss. What were lives of mortals more than a flickering candle-light in the gale to something greater and ancient? Mortals had more allies than they supposed, even among those they deemed no more than legends.

Humans ... spoke to Sorcerers as friends, gave them shelter, took the sweat from their brows, and repaid everyone with what? Treachery. So, he wondered, what would happen if someday someone would repay them in kind ... ? These forbidden thoughts had periodic frequencies of their darkest bloom, but fortunately, so far they vanished as quickly as they appeared. And sometimes there were days when he was worried to ask himself a question: what if one day they won't disappear, what then? Perhaps he wasn't made for teaching at all, perhaps his ambitions were far greater than that. It was then that he realized it is time to head back home, lay, and rest when every droplet in his throat started to turn into ashes, and the bar ran out of ice. Someone behind him was making a ruckus that clearly ( by the sound that traveled to him ) had nothing to do with ambient mirth. But of course, bars at night, pure nests for curses and demons born from negative human emotions intoxicated by spirits.

His wishful landing for peace may be uneventful, but then it may be tumultuous indeed.

The bartender was a good, humble person who Geto would once in a few months visit after frequent patrolling of local streets and in pursuit of special-grade wanderers. But that moment, the bartender lacked his typical sense of merry collectiveness as timorous eyes shifted nervously back and forth from drying glass at brutes apparently approaching closer. As the one who is strong, you are obligated to maintain the order. He gazed up at the desperate bartender. Don't worry, I'll take them out; they won't disturb your place any longer.

Someone from behind apparently shouted his way : ' Hey you!! ' '' ... '' Geto said nothing. Instead, almost mechanically cranium would tip from right to left shoulder, in a manner of awakening black cat stretching stiff neck muscles for what was going to follow next.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤF*cking Monkeys ...

---

It was a fraction later — that the back doors kicked widely open, and a man was literally thrown out by great force. Then another ... third, fifth. Pathetically beaten and driven out from coming back by the immensity of Suguru's dark aura crisped with disturbing sensation of living rot covering each span by naught but a singular stride beyond threshold.

' So loud for no reason~ '

'' ... '' '' ??! "

Where life expects to renew caution sudden voice caught him off guard. An instant tick of moment triggered immediate cessation of blackened aura until its gradual then ultimate vanish along with any hardness in Geto's mien. Someone shortly behind ... and closer to his left.

This guy shouldn't be here. Wait, was the man here all the time? How could he not notice him? The change of playlist resulted in louder rhythms of music protruding from cranny gaps ; which brought along a strange switch in the atmosphere. With proper aim of senses that strange man ( who would not elude from fixation of Suguru's focus ) stood inches away from him; his profile a refined riddle clad in elegant biding. The flickering neon text light glitching: ' 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒 ' reflected into the bleak avenue and caressed across subtle facial lines of the speaking stranger like velvet constellations, yet navigated to the pair of deep browns, gleaming just the same like polished amber in first rays of dawn; and he was brave enough to meet them with his own spinning mantra of nothingness and palette of starlit black. Great. The last thing he needs in this sh*tty state of mind is bumping into a beautiful man; that type of guy, who at first sight seemed like the one giving him a good talking about his own bad manners. A situation truly worth of deep sigh. But looks could be terribly deceiving. Many factions remained in being where he couldn't identify why he was spellbound to place and stiffness. And Geto, as a guy made of stern stuff, and shaped by sorts of experiences starting from the strangest to grossest feelings ... nothing for him quite ever felt like this uneasiness, but even so, on a level of intuition, he kept his movements in slow synchrony.

Under other circumstances, he would raise an eyebrow and subject other one to closer scrutiny, but again too much exorcism had a price. '' Sorry about that, didn't mean to throw these guys almost right — ugh, right ... at you, '' he managed in haste his scattered manners and admittedly apologized about his shortcomings, contemptuously glancing as well at pitiful display of mankind cowardice in attempt to slink away from kindled spitfire of their mortifying ordeal, '' this lot is hardly ever over their limits. But believe me, there was a reason for this noise. '' Was there? Was there any other reason than his own savageness?

Nor Sorcerers nor other entities can exist without encountering one another; such is the law of existential attraction. Macabre incognito shouldn't be able to melt away your inner pains, but perhaps the reality was that ... that very same pain was overshadowed by something else, something ... unexplainably inhumane although perfectly humane, standing and smiling at him with a degree of faithfulness only constant of death can bring. It was just as alluring as it was terrifying. Don't mind him. Don't stare. He pinched his nose bridge from unexpected sensory overload he likely blamed on overusing powers and looked reluctantly back at the speaker, '' If you're ... on your way in, then I suppose you couldn't pick better timing. The air's clear from further troubles. Oh, yeah, and May Geminis get all the free drinks today, well, applies twice if it's your birthday, '' thumb directingly pointed over his shoulder back at doors as he stepped forward passing around his mysterious encounter, '' have fun. '' Like a cloud of smoke, the curse manipulator continued to wind down along the steps and fully out of the place; manifesting his prior intention to vanish into the night, and sanction further his emotional cannibalism from dangers of public affairs.

[moralalee]

22/08/2024

It's a Thursday. I don't know if I have some sort of summoning or manifestation capabilities, but AT has messaged me today (as per previous entries, the crush from when I was in secondary school). She had messaged me last month to wish me a happy birthday, which was nice of her since we haven't spoken in a long time. We used to talk on and off, but things just fizzled out.

Maybe it's just cause I reread my old entries, or maybe it's because she seems to be living this amazing life now, but I feel weirdly nervous about responding. She asked how I'm doing and it's like, yeah, I'm fine. But what am I even doing? She's posting pictures at award ceremonies and graduating. What have I achieved? "Well, I got a cat and I love him even though he's a nightmare." Weird. I guess 17-year-old BF and I had it cracked, some people you do just repeat with. Same shit, different year.

Went for a piss and was just thinking about what a disaster case I am. Loved Mae from Night in the Woods when I was younger, now I AM Mae. A university drop-out who just kicks about. I have a job at least, but one with no room for growth and that pays decently but still leaves me tight at the end of each month.

Right, got a bit doom and gloom there. I'm feeling crap but trying to get my head in the game. It's weird how my mood can just shift. I've been feeling pretty good today but in the past hour or so, it's like a dark cloud comes over.

I wrote the start of the entry while at work, I’m in bed now. Work was okay, uneventful again. It feels weird how quiet (touch wood) it’s been in the past week. BR has been off the whole time, so I expected us to be drowning. I do miss her and I hope she’s doing okay. I think she’s been pushed too far and we all have a breaking point. I understand the place she’s in. The quiet of work has been highlighting for me how unchallenged I feel. When work is tough, it isn’t because it’s stimulating, it’s just too much of a workload of inane shit. There’s nothing wrong with having a job that isn’t a passion, but it leaves me feeling unfulfilled. I don’t even know what I’m passionate about anymore. Weirdly, I think I had a stronger sense of self as a teenager. It felt easier to write, to be kind, to be real. I’m trying so hard to be authentic now but it’s a battle when I don’t like who I am anymore.

My self-hatred has grown and matured with me. When I was younger, I thought “I’m ugly, everyone secretly hates me, I’m broken and I don’t know why.” Now I feel like I’m a bitter, useless person. I have no drive, I just float about, existing. I know people say your twenties are the years to figure shit out, but I think they’re used to that just being getting hammered or a regrettable tattoo. People don’t seem to get me and my nothing life. I’m figuring things out while spending all my time sitting in the same 2 chairs. Desk chair at work, desk chair at home.

CW tells me I can find something I’m passionate about, tells me I should do something creative because it’s what I thrive in. BF tells me I can use the skills from my current job, pursue business or management, something with a support system in place. I just don’t see a way to either. It’s crazy to me that some people just quit their jobs and go do what they want with no plan. The closest I’ve been to that was quitting working at the cafe when I was 19, but I lived at home and couldn’t handle that place any longer.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to find my way. I’m just stuck in an endless loop of day to day. That’s why I started doing things like baking or going to the gym to try to improve myself in some small way. I want to explore some options for an actual career, not just a job. Maybe I can find some way to dig myself out of the hole.

I responded to AT. It sent me on a bit of a self-doubt spiral. I told BF about her message and she said she’s “clinging on” to me, which is a crazy notion. AT has zero reason to hold onto the past and I can’t even remember the majority of mine. I realised as I was driving home that AT is the only person I’ve ever felt that comfortable or close to. How sad is that? I found the person I clicked most with when I was 12 and I haven’t met anyone like that since. Maybe I have rose-tinted glasses and maybe I’m just a commitment-phobe now, but when I was a kid I genuinely believed she was my soulmate. In the years since I’ve just been telling myself I was a kid and ridiculous and didn’t know what love was, but I loved more truly then than I ever have since or could ever dream of now. I wish I could capture even an ounce of that feeling again. Whenever I’ve chased a relationship, what I’ve wanted most was that feeling of being in someone’s arms and being home.

I highly doubt AT and I will pick things up again and become best friends, but it could be nice to even speak a little, to know she’s doing well. It makes me happy when I open her Instagram story and see another picture where she seems to be thriving. I hadn’t thought properly about her in a long time. I wonder if she thinks about me.

Anyway, that was a pretty pathetic monologue but this has been what I’ve been thinking on. I can’t really say any of that to my friends. I know they wouldn’t get it or that they’d think it’s silly. It was just a hard realisation when I figured out that nothing else has come close since. I wonder if that’s part of why I’ve struggled romantically? A little unconscious part of myself always felt like it wasn’t enough and planted that seed of doubt.

I’m planning on this weekend’s bake to be brownies, DJ was asking for them. And BF is ready for us to get the flat in order this weekend. I’ll feel a lot better when things are clean and tidy. Maybe a little more sane and I can focus more on figuring shit out.

I’m also wondering if my sudden clarity of mind is anything to do with the pill. I always hit rock bottom right as I’m due my period and that’s where I was. Now I’m a few days in and today I’ve felt a lot more balanced. Maybe it’s a coincidence. I don’t know how this shit works.

Goodnight. Looking forward to us finally reaching the weekend tomorrow and BF and I are going to go to the cinema and shops tomorrow. That should be fun.

Edit: Fucks sake, forgot my gif!

[sopxhiea]

Disturbance

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: The scary gangster realizes that there’s only one creature that will not do as he says and his soft spot for the eldest girl grows into something else before he can prevent it.

Part 1

“She’s cranky.”

“Move away if you don’t want this kiss.”

He’s not going to say it.

Not when he watches you fiddle around with the buttons in your hand, the one your younger sister ripped off her jacket the same morning. He will not open his mouth when you come around to talk to him about some shipments and some things that don’t add up. Not even when you’re so close to him, standing right next to his seated form that he can smell the vanilla off you. 

Although everyone knows it.

The match was rather uneventful, a test of some sorts for the gangster to make sure he kept his hands to himself. He had behaved, asked after the girls and about you and you’d given him vague information while wearing what he thought seemed like a golden shower. He had gone out to gather himself a few times, leaving a confused pretty lady and snickering Ollie behind.

He was a man that got everything he wanted.

People never said no to him, most of the time they already knew what he wanted anyway but you just toyed with the gangster. A few smiles here and there, a slight touch on his arm and he was feeling some type of way already. He had dropped you off at your house after collecting your sisters and found his eyes searching for you in every little corner.

He was right fucked, as he’d put it.

It’s been a couple of months of you working for the gangster. The workload is significantly demanding and the more time passes, the more jobs he gives you but you don’t dare complain. Your sisters are all in school, some sort of daycare in the weekends whenever you have to work and he’s the one making sure you’re all taken care of. 

There’s less screaming in the mornings, as Essie has grown fond of the broad man who shows up nearly every morning with breakfast in his hands. She’s young, and even Lily doesn’t see the way he steals glances your way but Emily, the oldest is not blind and the gangster forgets that. Although he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

The bakery is hot with the changing season, hot to a point where short sleeves do not cut it anymore. The women at the front bakery store have told you to wear skirts, long ones with less garments underneath but you have decided on a dress, nothing fancy but something to get you by around the house as well. It almost hugs you too tight in some areas and you realize this once some bakers start giving you a look but are too afraid to flirt or even comment.

Since you’re off limits.

Apparently everyone knows but you. The workers, the bakers around the front, even Emily but she won’t say a word because she thinks Alfie will take away her going out at night privileges she’s earned by taking care of Lily. You climb the stairs, footsteps soft against the wood and he hears it, almost feels a lump in his throat but decides he’s too much of a man to feel light-headed around a woman, whatever that means.

You knock once and enter, don’t realize the way his eyes are ogling you in the dress you’re in. A smile is apparent on your lips and he knows what day it is. 

“Mr. Solomons-”

“‘s Alfie, lass.” he says, like a plea at this point to try and get you stop calling him by his surname. Not only does he want to hear you say his name but the formality does things to him where he has to shift in his pants.

“Mr. Solomons, Lily has that ballet recital today and I was wondering if I could leave early to get ready.” you say and he nods, looking at your eyes the entire time. 

He knows what day it is, since Lily has spoken of it so much and you realize the gangster remembers everything, well almost everything, they say. She’s been showing him some moves she’s learned for the recital every morning he’s around and all he’d do was to clap with Essie on his lap.

“When is it, pet?” he asks, the pet name stuck on you after months of working for the man and you don’t mind. If anything, it’s the evident mark on his soft spot for you but you don’t ponder on it too much. 

“Around 7, I think. Shouldn’t last too long.” you speak and he throws a light smile your way. His lips are closed this time as he watches you, head to toe and you wonder about how appropriate some things he does around you are.

That is not to say that you’re not oblivious but you’ve been around enough men to know the signs. The way he leans towards you while walking, the small nods he throws your way each time you’re around his perimeter and not to mention Essie telling you that Alfie had been calling you ‘the pretty sister’ for a while now. 

But you decide some things take time.

And you speak this time, before he can ang the slight glisten in his eyes do not help. “You want to come with?” you speak, and his eyebrows raise slowly.

He’s a smart man.

Taking care of his late employee’s girls as much as he could, that was smart. Offering them all his help and even visiting them in the mornings, that was smart. Hiring his pretty little daughter who happens to be an excellent bookkeeper to walk around in dresses, that was not smart. 

Going to the younger one’s ballet recital, that would not be smart.

He didn’t care for the talk around town, people loved to gossip and he knew it from being around the streets but he figured it would hurt the little girls and her. And he wouldn’t let that happen, it simply wasn’t smart. 

But he did want to see you in a different dress, all dolled up.

He wasn’t too proud of the dreams he’d been having, they were mostly daydreams but he’d caught himself envisioning you in too many scenarios that involved a lack of clothing and an expression of pure bliss. He knew the boundaries but the looks you would give him didn’t help.

“Lily would like it.” you speak and it’s the last blow.

And you know it.

Unlike what many would’ve thought, the gangster is not all he was told to be. Sure, he’s scary looking and very cruel to some but not to little girls. He’s soft, too kind at times you find out as you watch him play with your little sisters every morning. 

He doesn’t care, he realizes and the words leave his mouth before he can stop himself, although it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. “I’m fuckin’ there, lass.”

------

He can hear the screaming.

He knocks once on the door and braces himself. The man has been to war, seen dead bodies with their brains all over the soil but this, this he has to get ready for. Emily opens the door with a scowl, which then turns into a smile when she sees it’s him. She’s wearing a pretty dress, hair done beautifully and Alfie wonders how the other ones are looking.

“Hello, Mr. Solomons.” she speaks, Alfie can tell you have taught her to speak that day but reckons he can do better.

“Aye, Emily, what did we say about ya’ callin’ me that, hm?” he asks, not swearing although it takes all his might to be careful.

“But Y/N said-” she says and confirms his suspicions. Alfie throws a smile at the young girl before stepping in and realizing the living room is empty, although the screaming has not stopped.

“Eh, your sister says a lot of things, don’t she.” he asks and sits down on his usual place on the sofa and Emily sits next to the gangster and nods. She’s changing by the passing day and Alfie feels like he can’t catch up.

“Good thing she’s pretty.” Emily says in all seriousness and it causes him to burst into laughter, laughter in which Emily joins her.

And that’s when you emerge from the bedroom.

Lily is holding your hand, wearing a purple dress with ribbons on her hair. Alfie can tell she cried from the hiccups that come and go but she has a smile on her lips now. Essie, on the other hand, is still crying as you hold her on the other side. Her dress is slightly different in color, looks wonderful nonetheless.

And there’s you.

Your dress is slightly shorter and completely different in color. The olive green material ends around just under your knees, with a generous look around your collarbones. Your hair is tied, a low bun which Essie threatens to ruin at any given moment. Alfie feels himself get stuck for a second but Emily slightly elbows him so that the brute can gather himself and speak.

“’ello, pet.” he speaks and Lily slowly approaches him, as she sometimes does and reaches for the beard. Alfie lets him, eyes traveling from the little one to you.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” you say, voice soft as you put Essie on the couch next to Emily so you can get your coat and theirs.

“Em let me in.” Alfie says and Emily nods, her youngest sister on her lap.

“Oh..okay.” you say and disappear behind the door. The entire time, Alfie is watching you go and Emily is watching him. She’s amused to say the least.

And that’s when Essie starts crying again.

You emerge from one of the rooms with all their coats. The little one is not coming with you, as your trusted neighbor has agreed to watch her for the night. You dress Lily and Emily dresses herself in their coats and Alfie clears his throat, making you look up at him and he signals Essie and her crying.

Although he’s far too used to it at this point.

“She’s just cranky, I don’t know why.” you say, clearly frustrated as you finally let go of Lily and reach for Essie to put her coat on.

“Tried the bribin’?” he asks with a smile on his lips and you shake your head.

“Well, if you’re talking about giving her sweets to shut her up....yes.” you say and he chuckles with a curt nod.

Then all of you get in the car, with Alfie’s hand on the small of your back and you carrying Essie. You don’t miss the way Emily looks at you, eyebrows wiggling each time she catches your eye but you just tell her to stay put. Then you drop off Essie, with much trouble and get to the recital with a gangster sitting next to you.

----

The recital goes on pretty smoothly, all cheers and smiles as Alfie lingers at the back. Emily claps for her sister, a smile on her lips as she does so but you excuse yourself a little after to get some air as they get ready for the next act. Alfie watches you walk towards the back part through the exit and decides Emily is old enough to take care of herself.

He finds you sitting on the pavement around the back part of the building, breathing deeply as you look around every now and then. He knows you need these moments. Moments of stillness without any screams, without Emily asking you for a dress or Lily’s chocolate covered hands. He knows you love them but the deed is much too strong for you.

“Y/N.” he says, cautious as he approaches you. You’re no longer sitting but leaning against the concrete block. 

“Emily’s inside?” you ask, your prior concern always being your sisters. He nods and speaks.

“Yeah, she ‘s.” he says and you nod this time.

You search his eyes then, for something that will tell you why he’s there. It’s easy to grow fond of him, you think, especially when you see him so much but there’s another side to the coin you don’t like to think of. The danger that comes.

“Something wrong?” you ask and see the heaviness in his gaze. You don’t quite know what it is, since he’s not a man easily read but you figure you know a thing or two by now. 

He shakes his head and then looks at you. There’s uncertain things swimming in your orbs much like him and he wonders if they’re the same things. Doubts and then turns his face to look at the sky. 

“There’s somethin’, yeah..” he speaks and you know better than to interrupt him.  “.....somethin’ I really wanna fuckin’ do.” he says and you nod, urging him to go on but he seems to stall for a second. He then speaks, he’s not looking at the sky anymore but you. “But see, pet, there are things yeah, fuckin’ things blockin’ my way.”

he says and watches you nod, understanding but then you stop and a smile graces your lips. It’s not mocking but not sweet either.

And then you speak, not afraid to counter his words. “I never took you as someone who’d stop just because there were....things blocking the way.” you speak and you half-know what he’s saying. 

He’s not the most subtle of admirers. You’re not bothered by it, quite the opposite if anything. You know he’s a man of power, known as cruel to some although you’d speak to differ. His lines are all harsh, you’re too soft compared to him so you don’t count on the opportunity of anything happening. 

He takes a step towards you, and then one more until he’s entirely too close. You don’t dare move and his eyes are locked into your lips. You are right, he thinks, he’s not a man that stops at anything just because he’s had a couple of doubts. But then, the doubts are worth taking into account if it’s you. He’s all harsh lines and your softness seems unreachable to him.

His eyes look at your lips for a solid second, his entire presence looming over you as you stay still. He’s tall, a bit too tall for you if you’re honest but you just crane your neck and he leans down slightly, you’d know what his lips would feel like against yours.

And then he moves and speaks. “Move away if you don’t want this kiss.”

He’s not a man of doubts, he gathers and yes, there is a lot at stake but he goes after what he wants. Alfie always has and currently, the thing he wants is standing right in front of him and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna pass up the opportunity to kiss the pretty lass.

His lips are soft, unexpectedly so as his hand finds your waist and resides there while the other cradles your skull with a gentleness that seems foreign to him. He kisses you softly before pulling away slightly to see if you’ve moved in any way but sees you staring at his lips, standing exactly still.

Then you reach for him.

He thinks he’s dreamed it until your lips peck his for the last time and you break the kiss. He sees the blush rising on your cheeks, lipstick smeared and hair slightly puffier than before. He doesn’t take a step back, stares down at you as you fix yourself too fast for him to realize what’s happening but he remembers you’re good at fixing people up.

You sigh, licking your lips once more to savor the feel of his lips before you speak. Your voice is breathy and he has to stop himself from assaulting your lips once more. “Come on, then. Emily will be waiting.”

And he follows you like your tail for the rest of the evening.

-----

He’s smiling like a damn fool.

It’s easy to realize that the big scary gangster is not all that cruel. Sure, there is a side to him that’s simply cruel. He’s not the most forgiving when it comes to some either but he also happens to be a huge teddy bear, you think as you watch him handle Essie after you’ve opened the front door to the house.

“Emily, can you take care of Essie for a minute?” you ask, not waiting for an answer from your sister before you drag Alfie by his sleeve to the kitchen. The girls stare at each other for a while before they all move to their rooms, except Lily who waits for you in front of the door.

You close the door, immediately after he enters the kitchen and look at him with a stern gaze. He’s making it obvious, all of it. The big scary gangster has had a stupid grin on his face ever since you’d kissed him and it makes you frustrated. 

“What?” he asks, still smiling a little as you stand in front of him, arms crossed and not amused at all.

“Are you going to stop smiling?” you ask, a slight mock to your words as you stare up at him.

He takes a step towards you then, his aim to trap you between his broad form and the door almost achieved before you escape his embrace by ducking under his arm. 

“Lass, come ‘ere.” he says with a tone you haven’t heard before and you don’t follow his orders, as much as you want to.

“Alfie, the girls are right outside.” you say, trying to take steps back each time he takes one towards you. Your back meets the cold wall then, a ‘shit’ passes your lips and he chuckles. His breath tickles your face. It’s not that you don’t want to kiss the gangster but the chance of Emily barging in to see the scene is too high to risk it.

But it seems as though he doesn’t care.

His lips are greedy this time, not as soft as they’ve been as he devours you within the short amount of time he’s given. You moan lowly at the way he’s kissing you and hear a thump against the kitchen door which makes both of you stop.

“Let me in!” Lily screams and it makes Alfie chuckle while all you do is glare.

Before you can open the door and pick your sister up, Alfie traps your small frame between the wall and him again and speaks. He’s not daft and knows how he wants to carry this out. His voice comes out muffled between his small pecks.

“We’ll talk once they’ve gone to fuckin’ bed, yeah, I’ll wait, pet.” he says, eyes greedy as he lets you go. You nod once more before opening the door and taking a red-faced Lily in your arms.

She doesn’t say anything at first but then speaks, connecting the dots a bit faster than you’d initially thought she would. She speaks as loud as she can and you swear she’s doing it on purpose.

“What were you doing?!” she says and finger points at Alfie but before he can answer you put her on the sofa and speak.

“Grown-up stuff.” you say and that seems to shut her up for the time being.

Emily then comes in the living room with Essie on her arms, Lily now sitting on Alfie’s lap as he tells the little girl a story about another dog he had. You watch him as his eyes meet yours in the middle of speaking, a childish glisten before he cradles her in his arms and speaks.  “Now, time for bed, innit.”

The rest of the night is filled with you running around as Essie screams and Alfie rocks her around. She doesn’t seem to mind the rocking until she almost throws up on him and it makes you laugh entirely too much for an accident. Emily takes care of herself, in bed before bedtime and you take care of Emily in the meantime. 

When you walk into Essie’s room, you see her on his arms as he rocks her back and forth, the little one sound asleep. You note the way she’s holding onto his bracelets and how he hesitates to put her in the crib. You give him a small nod and close the door behind you. He pecks your lips once more before taking your hand and dragging you away into your room and murmurs under his breath to not wake the little one. “Time for grown-up stuff.”

----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

A/n: Heyyy I hope you liked this chapter, do let me know what you thought and if you’d like to be added to the tag list !!

[edna-skiffens]

The Best Medicine

Summary: You are in the hospital, but you can never sleep in hospitals. Good thing you have a very attractive night shift nurse who is willing to help out.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: hospitals, light med talk, bad medical writing, fluff

A/N: Please ignore the plot holes or the fact that this isn’t the most realistic and also I know this isn’t how discharge works at the hospital.. It’s called fiction for a reason, darling. Also, I left the reason the reader is in the hospital open ended bc some of us may have medical conditions/reasons that we can attach to this, but if not I tried to keep it vague enough on purpose so that you can imagine whatever. Also if you like Nurse!Tom and have requests for him lmk bc i’m happy to write for him.

Toss and turn. Toss and turn. The routine was getting old. This was your third night in the hospital and sleep just wasn’t coming to you.

Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. Maybe it was the constant symphony of sounds and people passing in the hallway. Maybe it was because you weren’t at home in your own bed.

Maybe it was just because you were in the hospital.

You couldn’t be sure. What you were sure of is that you weren’t falling asleep anytime soon.

Feeling another presence in the room, you looked from the ceiling to the doorway where you saw Tom, one of the night shift nurses, standing cautiously.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” He asked as he eased his way inside.

“Nope.”

“So no sleep again, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry darling. Let’s go ahead and get these vitals over with.” He took your blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature and wrote it down in your chart. Putting the clipboard back on its hook at the end of the bed, he looked up at your tired face. “Okay. So now about that sleep. What do you think will help?”

“Not being in the hospital.”

He chuckled lightly while walking back towards your bedside.

“I know. You hate it here. You’ve made that very clear and I try not to take too much offense to it.” You let out a slight laugh and held back the fact that he was the best part of this whole experience. He almost made it worth it. “I’m sorry we can’t give you any sleeping medication. Do you think it’ll help if I talk to you?”

“You mean tell me bedtime stories?” You couldn’t help but tease him at the adorable suggestion, though it sent a swarm of butterflies off in your stomach.

“I was thinking more like bore you ‘till you fell asleep. But whatever works.”

“You’re the nurse. If you think it’ll help.” You both sat there smirking at each other for a moment. Something unspoken floating in the air between you two.

“Well, I need to finish my round of vitals first. I’ll come check on you when I’m done and if you’re still up we’ll see about those stories.”

“I’ll be here.”

About fifteen or twenty minutes later you heard a light tap on your door followed by “Still awake?”

“Always.”

“You up for a chat?” Tom asked as he made his way to the stool then rolled slightly closer to your bed.

“Got nothing better to do.” You teased again.

“Okay. Well you should probably lay down.”

“Oh. It’s going to be that kind of story, huh?” His laugh was so beautiful and you were happy you were the cause of it.

“No.” He corrected in between laughs “The goal is to get you to sleep. So sitting up won’t help.”

“Right. Right.”

“Well.. anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”

“Why did you choose to become a nurse?”

“Ahhh. Good question. So I actually went to an art school.” You couldn’t help the brief expression of surprise that crossed your face. “I know. Shocking. I did training specifically in dance and gymnastics and I loved it.”

“Wait, so what happened?” You asked, turning on your side to face him more comfortably.

“Well one day we were rehearsing for a show and I fell. Ruined my knee. Had to do physical therapy for months. I tried to get back into it, but it just wasn’t the same. However, through that process I learned a lot about medicine and the health side of things. It really turned me on to it. And when my Plan A got a bit messed up I thought ‘hey, this could work’. So far it’s treated me pretty well.”

You smiled at Tom, admiring his passion for his career and the determination he had to keep pushing after his accident. You enjoyed hearing him talk about it too. If you didn’t know any better you would say it was helping you relax.

“My story that boring?”

“Obviously.”

“Your sarcasm has no end.”

“Oh… goodness.. you thought that was sarcasm?”

Tom only laughed and shook his head the way he often did with you.

You may just have been his patient and he may have just been your nurse, but you both bonded. He kept you company and gave you comfort. In return, you kept him entertained during the quiet night shifts.

“I’m not going to sleep. I'm just resting my eyes. But still listening.” You told him as you nestled further into the hospital bed, trying to find a position that would make it comfortable.

“Okay, darling.” He grinned at you.

“Tell me more. What kind of-” You had to stop to yawn, “What kind of art stuff did you do?”

“Oh. Well, I was in a few musicals. I really enjoyed dancing. I did ballet ever since I was young and I love the control I have over my body. The tricks I can do with gymnastics or the turns and leaps. I mean I can’t do them to that level anymore, but I try to stay active.” He glanced up and noticed you hadn’t moved, “Are you still with me?”

“Mhm.” You barely respond.

“Okay. Well it was a performing arts school so we really were trained in many areas. We had classes in acting, singing, dancing, all of it. It was a lot of fun and I met my best friends there.”

Tom began telling stories about his time at school. Before he knew it, he lost himself and track of time. He looked back at you, quiet and still.

“Y/N?” You were finally asleep. “Goodnight, darling.” He whispered as he gently made his exit.

Because Tom worked the night shift, you never saw him when you woke in the morning. Instead, Tanya, a sweet nurse that felt like a big sister, or Linda, Nurse Ratched in the flesh, came in for morning vitals and meds.

You counted down the days until your release. Life in the hospital was pretty uneventful with the limit on visitors and limited activity. There’s only so many sitcoms one can take in a given timespan. The only thing that you really looked forward to each night was when Tom clocked in.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Tom.” You would smile at each other.

“How are we feeling today?”

“Better. Ready to get out of here.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you are feeling better and still ready to jailbreak.” He smiled while writing something down on your chart. “They should be bringing up your dinner tray soon and then I’ll bring by your evening meds after that.”

“Okay.”

“If you need me you know what to do.” He called to you before walking out the door.

You were disappointed when Shelley brought your evening meds by later. She was a nice enough nurse. She just wasn’t Tom.

You’d grown accustomed to mainly having him as your nurse during the evening shift. At first you weren’t sure if it was coincidence or on purpose, but after a few nights of staying up and talking, you grew closer to him. You saw less of the other nursing staff and more of Tom.

You tried not to build anything up in your head. You were sure everything he was doing was in his job description and a part of being a good nurse.

He would sneak you extra pudding cups from the cafeteria and bring you an extra heated blanket because you could never stay warm. If you needed a new IV, he held your hand to ease the anxiety. He kept you company and made you feel less alone in such a sterile and intimidating place. And when he noticed you had trouble sleeping he chose to sit with you to help you fall asleep. You couldn’t help the butterflies that built in your stomach.

It became a sort of routine. He checked on you during evening vitals, even if someone else was doing them, and you were always still awake. He would then come and sit with you and chat for a bit, telling you different stories until you eventually fell asleep.

Some nights when you were extra restless he would help you walk the halls.

“The doctors have to see you’re stable enough before you can be discharged. Plus, maybe it’ll tire you out.” He suggested.

He would help get your IV pole ready so you could walk with it. He helped you into your slippers and eased you out of bed after passing you your robe.

Walking the hall slowly, Tom knew he had to remain professional, yet he found a few excuses to graze his hand across your back to ‘steady you’ when you turned corners or he thought you were looking tired.

“It might take me a while to get back to my usual jogs in the park, huh?” You laughed in spite of yourself.

“You’ll get there. Baby steps.” He encouraged, as you turned around the Nurse’s Station. You missed the faces the other night shift nurses were giving you both, but Tom was sure to subtly flick them off. “So, do you like running?” He asked as you headed back towards your room.

Throughout your late nights together, he told you of his three younger brothers and his dog named Tessa. You spoke about what you would do when you were out of hospital. He talked about his friends and flatmates and the adventures they had. He told you many stories, but each morning when you woke up he was clocked out and the day shift nurses were there.

Tonight was your last night. You’re set to be discharged tomorrow and while you are ecstatic to go home, you’re going to miss one thing about this place.

“I bet you’re too excited to sleep tonight. I don’t know if my stories will even help.” Tom said as he sat down next to you.

You smiled up to him sweetly.

“What are you looking forward to the most once you get out of here?”

“Sleeping in my own bed.”

“Well that’s no surprise.” Tom laughed, a contagious sound making you giggle as well. “Isn’t there anything you’ll miss about this place?”

“Yeah.” He smiled “There’s one thing.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

“The pudding cups.”

“Ahh the pudding cups of course.” You giggled while fiddling with the IV line.

“They just don’t taste the same in the outside world.”

His smile grew wider as you giggled.

“No, but really. As much as I give this place grief and say I’m ready to get out of here - which I am,” You gave him a pointed look to which he held his hands up in mock surrender, fully believing you, “it hasn’t been too terribly awful I guess.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad we could make your stay not too terribly awful.. I guess.” He teased. “Do you have anything exciting to look forward to once you’re a free woman?”

“Nothing huge planned, really. The doctors did say to take it easy.”

“That’d be wise.”

“Yeah. I’ll just lay low for a while. My sister said she may try to come visit me though so that would be nice.”

“Oh that would be nice. She’s your older sister right?”

“Right. She moved away last year to be closer to her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Do you like him?”

“Sorry?”

“This boyfriend. Do you like him?”

“He’s alright, I suppose. He makes her happy.” Tom nodded along.

“And do you have a boyfriend that makes you happy?”

“N-No. No I don’t. Not at the moment.” You began fiddling with the IV cord again.

“No boyfriend or not a boyfriend that makes you happy?” He asked.

“Neither.”

“Well that’s a shame.” If the heart monitor was connected you would’ve been screwed. “I just mean someone needs to look after you once you get home. I hope this sister comes through for a visit. You’ve got to take it easy.”

“Oh I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be.” He smiled.

“How has your shift been tonight? Busy?” You asked, fighting back a yawn.

“A bit busier than usual. There was a slight emergency earlier which is why Shelley handed out meds tonight. Sorry I didn’t come around.”

“It’s alright. I know you have other patients.”

“Yeah, but none like you.” You were sure he said that to all of his patients. After all, you’ve heard similar lines ever since you went to the pediatrician as a child. But it still gave you butterflies.

“Are you getting sleepy?”

“A little. But it’s okay.” He gave you a pointed look but continued to talk anyway. “It’s the last night. One final request for storytime. Make it a good one.”

You thought for a moment before asking your question.

“Do you ever wish that life turned out differently? That you never had your accident and you could’ve followed your dreams to be a dancer?” You asked while turning on your side and getting more comfortable.

“Sometimes. At least, I used to. But I think I’ve accepted it now. And I really can’t see myself doing anything but this.” You nodded taking in his answer “I look at it this way. If it wasn’t for my injury then I never would’ve changed my career path and found my love for medicine. I never would have made so many of the friends I’ve made or the memories I’ve made. I never would have met you.” He finishes with a sweet smile.

“That’s a very positive way of looking at it.” You told him. “Be honest, are you a therapist during the day?” He laughed out loud.

“No. I’m not. I guess I’m a big believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’.” You nodded while covering a yawn.

“So I’ve been curious to ask you,” He began, “Do you usually have this much trouble sleeping? Because you can get help for that you know?” You smiled at him.

“What? I thought a night nurse talking to you was the cure?” Tom smirked and shook his head. “I’m kidding. No, I normally don’t. It’s just the stiff sheets and hospital sounds I think.”

“Darn hospital.” He rolled his eyes and joked. “So this time tomorrow you’ll be sound asleep in your own bed then?”

You knew it was meant to be a happy statement, but you were a little sad at the thought of not having any more late night chats with Tom.

“Yes. Thank God.” You forced a smile.

You felt another yawn coming and tried to hold it back. It was already past the usual time that you fell asleep.

Tom could tell you were exhausted so he launched into a story from nursing school, hoping to lull you to sleep.

You yawned your way through listening, trying to soak up every last moment with Tom. In the morning he wouldn’t be here. You’d leave and likely never see him again.

When he finished, your eyes were half open and he wondered how you were still awake. Or maybe why.

“Why are you fighting it? The point is to sleep. Give in.” He told you gently after another yawn.

You looked up at him, half asleep and rubbing your eyes, not finding the confidence to tell him the true reason you were trying to stay awake.

“I’m happy right now.”

He smiled down at you.

“I am too. But you need your sleep, darling.” You weren’t sure what to say and you didn’t have much energy left in you anyway. “How about this. I’ve probably been in here too long as it is. Let me go check in at the Nurse’s Station and then I’ll come back and check on you soon and see if you’re still awake okay?”

The thought that he was leaving gave you a sad feeling in your stomach. You tried to remind yourself that he was just your nurse. Nothing more.

“Okay.” You smiled at him, sleepily, while settling further into the bed.

He stood up and instead of walking towards the door he walked closer to you. He grabbed the thin, white hospital blanket and pulled it closer around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered before he walked to the door.

“Tom?” You called out just before he opened it. He turned around with an expectant look, “Thanks for everything.”

Even though the room was dim you could see his smile.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Get some sleep.”

You don’t remember much after that. You don’t know if Tom came back to check on you. You just remember falling asleep with a smile on your face.

When you woke up the following morning it felt like any other morning in the hospital.

The hallways were much louder. Beeps, chatter, and phones were constant. The lights were brighter.

But you were quickly reminded that it wasn’t any other morning. You were going home today.

The door creaked open and Tanya, one of your regular daytime nurses, poked her head in.

“Oh good you’re up.” She made her way inside and over to the gloves. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. Thanks.” She gave you a smile, something hidden behind it.

“I’m sure.” She said quietly to herself. You gave her a questioning look. “Oh I just mean I’m sure you’re excited to get out of here.”

You nodded as she took your vitals one last time.

“Everything looks good. What do you say about getting this IV out?”

“I say that sounds amazing.”

She took it out and bandaged up your arm while informing you of how the morning would go.

“Dr. McCoy is making rounds now then he’ll be by soon to go over your discharge. You can get dressed whenever you’re ready. If you need help, buzz me. You’ll still have a breakfast tray come, but you don’t have to eat it.” She gave you a wink while taking off her gloves.

“Thanks Tanya.”

“Of course, sweetie. And in case I don’t see you before you go, you’ve been a wonderful patient. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at her as she left you to change into some leggings and a sweatshirt.

You were packing your remaining things into your bag when your doctor walked in.

“Y/N! How are we doing today?”

“We’re doing great because we’re going home.” You smiled while taking a seat to rest for a few minutes.

“I know you’re excited.” He laughed before explaining the conditions of your discharge. You had medicines to take, a follow up appointment, and strict instructions to rest for the next few weeks. After signing some forms he left you with a stack of papers. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah my neighbor should be here within an hour.”

“Sounds good. Don’t hesitate to call us or come back in if you have any trouble or questions.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

A few minutes after he left a nurse brought in your breakfast tray. There wasn’t much of a point for it but since your discharge wasn’t technically until 10:30 am you were still a patient during breakfast.

You took the pudding cup that you requested with every meal off the tray before sliding it away. Smiling to yourself, you tucked it away in your bag. All you had left to do was wait for 10:30.

Tanya came in to check on you again and told you to buzz the Nurse’s Station when you knew your ride was here. At 10:27 you had a text from your neighbor that they were out front in the pickup zone. So you hit the call button.

“Yes?” Linda, the scariest dayshift nurse, answered.

“Um hi. Tanya told me to buzz in when my ride was here so I could go down.”

“Okay we’ll be right in.”

Not even a minute later you heard your door open. Expecting to see Tanya or maybe even Linda you looked up.

An audible gasp left your lips when Tom stood in your doorway with a wheelchair.

“I hear someone needs a ride?” He smiled as he made his way closer to the bed.

“Tom. What are you still doing here?”

“I pulled a double.” You wanted to ask why, but decided against it. You were still in a little bit of shock from seeing him again. “If you’d rather I can go get Linda to walk you down?” He pointed back towards your door.

“No! No.. I’m just surprised s’all.”

“Well come on. I thought you’d be running out of this place once the clock hit 10:30.” Glancing up you saw it was now 10:34. Your neighbor is probably tired of waiting already.

You grabbed your discharge papers and reached for your bag when you heard, “I got it.” Smiling at him, you sat down in the wheelchair. Tom placed the bag around his shoulder and kicked the brakes off the chair. “Ready?” You nodded up at him.

He rolled you out of the room that felt so small for a final time. You passed the Nurse’s Station and waved bye to the staff. He turned by the elevators and when you looked up at him in question, he read your mind. Looked down at you he said, “We’re taking the staff elevators.”

When you made it there he hit the button, turning you around and backing you in once the doors opened. He hit the button for the Lobby and leaned up against the wall of the elevator, briefly glancing at you, as you rode down together.

“Well you made it. You’re a free woman.” He smiled shyly.

“Yippee.” He met your eyes for a moment before looking back to the floor. The dynamics felt different. It wasn’t like your late night talks together.

“Listen, Y/N.” Tom began as he stood up from the wall and faced you. He was about to continue when the elevator ding cut him off, signaling you had reached your destination.

Maybe that was what was different. You had reached your destination.

You had a fun time talking with Tom and entertaining each other when you were both up late at night. He was fun to get to know and you enjoyed having someone care for you. He was easy to banter with and certainly easy on the eyes. But your time at the hospital was up. You knew it would be eventually. You wanted it to be.

Tom was a nurse. He was just doing his job. He was helping take care of you. He was being nice. He was trying to make your stay more comfortable. There was nothing to read into.

Your time being his patient was up and your time with him was up.

You tried to remain realistic, but the sadness still crept up as he rolled you closer to the door.

Once outside, you saw your neighbor exit the car and wave you over. Tom steered in the direction and slowed before rolling to a stop and hitting the brake locks on the wheels.

“Hi, I’m Taylor.”

“Tom.” They shook hands as Tom passed off your bag for Taylor to put in the backseat.

“I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it really has been a pleasure having you as a patient and getting to know you, Y/N.” Tom admitted as he walked around to face you. He grabbed the papers from your lap. “Take care of yourself, okay?” You had shared many smiles with Tom, but this one felt sadder.

“I will. Thank you for everything, Tom. I mean it.” You reached up and squeezed his hand. He gave you a light squeeze back while smiling down at you. Taylor returned from the backseat of the car and Tom turned to them.

“These are her important papers about follow up appointments, medications, what to do at home, all of that so please make sure she doesn’t lose any of them.” He emphasized the point.

“Got it. Thanks.” Taylor held onto the stack while Tom turned back to you.

“If I can’t handle a few papers on my own, then maybe I shouldn’t be going home yet, Tom.” You laughed.

“I know, I just wanted to make sure they made it home with you.” He walked closer. “You ready to get in?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. He helped you up, supporting you just as a precaution. Once seated, you took a moment to catch your breath as you pulled the seatbelt down. He met your hand, taking it from you to buckle you in.

“You good?”

You nodded with a smile, “Just a little tired. No biggie.”

He looked you over before returning your smile, though his didn’t quite reach his eyes, “If you need us, call us. Otherwise go home and rest.”

This was it. This was goodbye.

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He shut the door. He walked back to the wheelchair, released the brake locks and headed inside. He looked back only when your car was driving away.

“Here’s those papers that are so important.” Taylor handed you the stack after they got in.

“Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks.” You felt them looking at you as they joined traffic.

“You sure? You sound like you feel awful.”

You try to remind yourself to forget the sweet and attractive nurse and start moving forward.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” You decide to distract yourself by reading through your discharge paperwork, when something caught your eye. On top was a sticky note with the hospital’s letterhead. You were sure it wasn’t there before. Looking closer it read,

Y/N,

In case you need someone to talk to when you can’t sleep.

555-5555

P. S. I have a connection to some pretty good pudding cups too.

Tom

The smile that grew on your face was undeniable. All the feelings you suppressed came flooding in. He wasn’t just being nice. He actually liked you.

One thing you knew for sure was that even though you would be in your own bed tonight, you still would be up, talking to a very special nurse.

Lmk if you want to be on my tag list

[demon-childe]

a response to years of solitude

relationship - Zhongli x GN!Reader rating - 18+ word count - 1k summary - Zhongli is touch starved and you make him c*m in his pants notes - this has been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute and is based on a convo abt zhongli being touch starved from my discord server.... uh ya enjoi! --

It's been a long night of celebrating after Liyue's been saved. You've had a few too many glasses of wine and Zhongli was kind enough to offer - insist, really - on walking you back to the hotel you were staying at. It's an uneventful stroll, with Zhongli telling you stories and history of Liyue. Tipsily, you lean into him, hooking your arm around one of his, and he stops talking completely.

"Oh," you say lamely. "Is - is this not okay?"

"No,” he replies and you feel embarrassed, going to pull away from him. Zhongli stops you, one gloved hand finding your forearm. “Rather, yes. It's - it's fine. I simply was caught a little off guard."

There's a moment of silence before he continues, but he does so, his voice sounding a touch quieter than before. He keeps his hand on your arm.

By the time you get to the door of your room, he’s finished his story, and you unlatch yourself from him. He seems less than eager to let you go, his grip tightening on you just slightly and you look up at him. 

“Zhongli?”

“I apologize,” he says after a moment, the glow of his amber eyes focused calmly on you. 

“Are you all right?”

“Of course. I believe it’s just been a rather long night and I am... not feeling quite myself,” he tells you. The way he speaks sounds like he’s trying to convince you and you purse your lips, but decide to let it slide.

Footsteps find your ears and you turn to see another patron round the corner of the hallway. You step forward in an attempt to make room in the small corridor and a foot collides with Zhongli’s. You glance down, trying to find your footing and when you blink, you’re pressed against him - the heat of his body far more inviting than you expected. A small squeak escapes you when you feel the pressure of one hand on your lower back and he pulls you into him firmly.

Your palms find his chest in surprise, glancing up at him with wide eyes. His gaze is still calm, but hot. His pupils are dilated, lips parted as he stares down at your face. It takes a moment and then you feel - oh. Your mind goes blank when you realize he’s -

“Ahem.”

The stranger clears their throat, startling you out of the hazy feeling clouding your mind. You feel your face flush in embarrassment, looking away from the man holding you against him. The two of you stand in silence, listening as the stranger’s footsteps fade away and once they do, you look up at Zhongli in surprise.

"I apologize," he murmurs quietly. "I am not usually so forward, but would you like to-?"

"Yes," you interrupt. He blinks down at you before letting out a breath, shoulders relaxing. "Very much so."

It takes all of two minutes for you to unlock the door and find yourself tangled in the former Archon's embrace - hands tugging at clothes, mouths hungrily slotted together. You hadn't figured Zhongli for this kind of man - eager, clumsy, desperate - but perhaps that's what years of solitude do to a person, you think distantly. 

The bed dips under your combined weight, the pair of you falling together and his long fingers pull at the buttons of your clothes. You break the kiss momentarily, repositioning yourself atop Zhongli, straddling his hips and he lets out the most delicious groan when you press yourself against him. Impatient to hear more, you rut into him, hips canting forward experimentally, and he all but chokes beneath you. 

He growls, hands going to your sides. You continue your movements, rubbing yourself against him, relishing in the feeling of his erection pressed snugly between you, drinking in the way he trembles at each roll of your hips. His fingers on your hips tighten, palms pressing into you, and he tenses.

"Been too long," he gasps. "Please. You are going to undo me like this."

Oh. The idea of the powerful Lord of Geo coming in his pants from rutting like teenagers sends you reeling. You grind against him more insistently and sigh at the pleasant friction, one hand traveling to find his own perched on your hip.

"It's okay," you reply in a whisper. "I won't be mad."

Beneath you, he's still tense, breathing constricted and you lean down to kiss him again. He mouths eagerly back at you before you break away, brushing your nose against his tenderly.

"Please?" you inquire softly, voice lilting. "Let me make you feel good, Zhongli."

You can feel him hesitate for a moment, muscles drawn taught beneath you, and when you roll your hips again, his restraint fades. His tongue licks hungrily into your mouth at the same time he grinds back against you and he swallows your surprised little moan. 

It takes only a minute for the pace between you to become frantic - desperate and pent up - and his hips jerk once, twice, three times before his breathing catches in a gasp. You feel him tense beneath you, a choked noise escaping from his throat before he gives a long, shuddering exhale.

You slow the roll of your hips against his and watch his eyes flutter open, gold of his irises eclipsed by darkness, pupils blown wide with lust. Your gaze traces the flush high on his cheeks, watching the way his lips part and you can’t help but brush your mouth against his. 

“Are you all right?” you whisper. Zhongli’s response is a low groan, leaning up to kiss you again, fingers digging tightly into your waist. Without warning, he shifts your positions and pins you to the bed, eliciting a surprised little noise from you and you blink up at him, wide eyed. “I-”

“Please,” he interrupts you lowly, dipping down to mouth at your neck. A little sigh escapes you when you feel the wet heat of his tongue trace a line up to your ear. “You seem to have caught me at a weak moment. Allow me to make it up to you.”

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 1- She Ran With Wolves

Bucky Barnes x powered (f)reader Series Re-write (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: You’re a survivor, always have been and always will be. After narrowly escaping the clutches of Hydra years ago, you’ve been keeping to the shadows for as long as time allows. With Hydra suddenly exposed and your secrets in the open, you’re on the hunt for the last part of your past, but is he ready to see you again?

Warning: angst, talk of violence, some fluff mixed in (a little); way more to come

Masterlist

Side note- This is a TFATWS Series Re-write!!! Obviously lol, anyways. Readers powers are heavily inspired by a certain Marvel badass and I just thought her powers would work so well for this. Also they’re cool as fuck.

September, 15th 2013

Location: S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters, Washington D.C.

This recent project Fury had sent her on was beginning to make itself quit the annoyance for Natasha this past of couple weeks, granted he always gave her the toughest assignments, understanding that no one else can dig up as much dirt as the Black Widow can.

But this? This was different, the target in question was practically a ghost, a legend among the ones lucky, or possibly unlucky enough to have been made aware of this dangerous individual. But no matter how much she asked around from her various secretive resources on the problem in question, this mystery person was simply just rumor to them. Or perhaps too much of a sour subject to seek into any further. Although one thing was always prevalent, people were scared.

But why?

The assassin leans back in her chair, a thoughtful expression crossing over her features as she stares bitterly down at the top secret file gifted to her by Fury himself. Suddenly a door closes, she shuts the file in an instant, only to be greeted with the apologetic face of Steve as he walks past her.

“Sorry. Fury told me you would be in here.” Begins Steve as he takes the nearby couch, something small and metal in his right hand, “Said you were assigned some impossible case. How’s it going so far?”

Letting out a jaded sigh, she shifts her gaze over to the window, “The absolute vagueness of this person is....frustrating to say the least. All I’ve been able to gather is that they’ve been part of some top secret experimentation on pregnant women. Somehow they’re involved with it....I just, gotta figure out how.” She adds with a conflicted expression dancing across her features.

Steve hums in thought, “Sounds complicated.”

“You have no idea.” Mutters Natasha unenthusiastically as her green irises shift back down to the annoying little file.

Steve palms the object in his hand before gaining his friends attention once again, “Here. Fury told me to give this to you.” Her brows furrow in thought as she reaches over and quickly accepts the strange hard drive looking object, “I think this will help. It has the location of the target and who they are. That’s it.....Well, the last reported location.”

“How did he?” She wonders aloud, face suddenly breaking out into an irked grin, “Fury you son of a bitch, about time I found a legitimate lead.”

——

Sitting on her comfortable apartment couch, Natasha sifts through the various encrypted files from the hard drive that’s currently plugged into her laptop. So far she’s spent about two hours breaking through the various encrypted file blockers and now at long last has finally made some real progress.

Studying the brightly glowing screen, she moves her finger, clicking another coded link that reads -V13X11- she’s immediately greeted with a black screen and the slightly blurred picture of a woman’s face who’s looking rather stoic and fearless against the camera flash. Her eyes are set and hard as stone, dark and almost angry behind lips that show the ghost of a forced smile. She’s noticeably an overall attractive woman, in kind of a terrifying and intimidating sort of way, like looking at a fierce lioness standing valiantly against a foe; nonetheless she stares defiantly at the person behind the camera. 

Her eye color, weight, date of birth, and presumably patient number, that's printed in big bold letters 00X13 on the glowing screen, right below her squared portrait. Furrowing her brows, Natasha scrolls down to see about a paragraph long of personal information given about the woman. Including, to the red heads tremendous surprise, a birth name, Y/N Valerious.

Oddly enough, the name indeed sounds a tad bit familiar, though she can’t quit place from where.

The file states that she was raised in a facility on the outskirts of Surinda, Russia; someplace in Siberia, close to the heart of the mammoth country. Trained by the organization Hydra and summitted into inhuman experimentation by the specific facility that held her, however the rest is all encrypted and impossible to translate into something comprehensible much to Natasha’s utter disappointment. 

Huffing in frustration, she slips out the hard drive before shutting down her laptop and slamming it shut. The room is darker by now with the sun gone, and tomorrow it appears that Natasha will be off to Sweden to confront this woman, Y/N, in hopes of gathering valuable intel into the people who created her, and any important information regarding her troubled past. 

If she’s willing to comply.

——

Closing your laptop, you stand and wander over to the opened window to stretch before taking a deep breath of freshly brisk winter air. The land here in Uppsala, Sweden is more beautiful and peaceful then you could have ever imagined since renting an apartment two months ago. In fact, this is probably the longest you’ve ever stayed in one spot since abandoning the life of an assassin many years ago.

Though you know it won’t be much longer until you leave again, but you can’t just yet, there happens to be a certain agent on her way to find you. Fury unknowingly received your encrypted hard drive with opened arms, foolishly under the impression it was sent from an old friend when he reached out for answers into your complicated history. Then when the Black Widow eventually clicked open your link, bam, you could see everything she was nosily sifting through. Everything you wanted her to see. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if something dramatic happened to the people over in D.C. at this point, idiots, all of them.

For the past couple years S.H.I.E.L.D has become sort of a troubling snooping nuisance for you, constantly delving their way into your relatively uneventful lifestyle every couple of months, meddling around to figure out if you’re still currently active for Hydra and if not, are you willing to pay for your crimes or to join them like she did. Definitely not on your to do list any time soon.

Watching as a small black bird zips by, you quickly shut your window and close the dark colored curtains to block yourself from the rest of the chaotic world. Hastily making your usual rounds about the apartment to be absolutely certain all the possible openings are locked. Soon after you head for bed, ready to face the ex-assassin whenever she arrives in the following days ahead.

-

Seated at your kitchen table, you casually sip at your steaming hot tea while watching security footage from downstairs from when you hacked into their system, the same night you began renting the place. As expected, the notorious red head slips her way into the building and up the four flights of stairs until finally a light knock is heard at your old wooden door.

So she wants to do this cleanly.

Switching off the device, you stuff it in a nearby drawer before calmly walking down the tiny hallway over to the frontdoor and opening it, lock off and all. Her green eyes blink in curious surprise as you show her no indications of aggression; she’s about your height if not maybe slightly smaller, thick scarf and a winters coat about her person as she holds a normal sized black bag in her right hand. No doubt a gun concealed somewhere close, a light precaution in case things go south from here.

Trailing your wary gaze from her travel bag to her pale face, you raise an intrigued brow, “I assume you’re here for me?” You ask with the tinge of a confident Eastern European accent as she slowly nods, eyes calculated and calm as she studies your mellow yet slightly defensive stance.

Pursing plush lips together, she casually shrugs with a light hearted smile, “I only realized you must have sent that hard drive when I arrived in London...”

“Well I’ve gotten rather bored running away from your persistent bastards over in America.” You interrupt before opening up your door even wider, gifting her an open invitation instead of a fight, “Come in. I assume we have much to discuss.”

Following you to the table, she sets her bag on the closest chair as you take another sip from your tea. Cautious eyes trained on her every move as she shifts a bit uncomfortably in her chair, “So, I assume you’re not here to sell me that pretty bag of yours. Not that I’d want it.”

She smirks at your blunt sarcasm, pleased to know you’ve at least got a sense of humor after all you’ve endured, “No. I’m here to learn about who created you and if there are any more. Y/N, I’m well aware of how dangerous you truly are...but given the fact that you’ve had time to adjust, and let me into your home willingly. I came seeking answers. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Folding your hands together, you tilt your head at her thoughtfully, “Well that’s good. I didn’t really want killing the Black Widow on my conscience, though I’d speculate a few would be relieved.” You quip with a playful smirk before your face turns serious again, “I’ll tell you about the fuckers who made me. Then you leave and never bother me again. Understood?” You add in almost a growl.

Handing you a polite smile, she nods in agreement, “Of course. You have my word.” You take another sip of your tea as she reaches into her bag, a beige file suddenly plants itself atop your kitchen table. “This is the only surviving file on you. It’s enough, but there’s too many cracks that need to be filled. I need to know how they conducted the experiments and who else survived them. This is important for the safety of S.H.I.E.L.D and the rest of the world. Y/N, we’re trying to make sure something like this can never happen again. And well, any secrets on Hydra always helps.”

Setting your cup down, you smirk, “This should be filled with liquor if I’m going to be spilling some top secret Hydra business of this velocity.” You muse, setting aside your mug, your face quickly shifts to a more serious expression. “For starters this isn’t a very heartwarming story.”

“Neither is mine.” Begrudgingly admits the ex-assassin.

“Well, at least we have something in common then, Black Widow.” You assert with a pointed look before leaning back against the barred wood of your chair, thinking of where to start first. Your eyes trail over to the window as you begin your story, “This place, where they kept us. The scientists working for Hydra wanted to test out special DNA altering serums on the embryos of willing participants. Well, we weren’t willing....but they targeted the poor, feigning a program that would pay these mothers-to-be thousands if they participated. Plus a comfortable place to stay for awhile.” You reveal before taking another sip of your tea, “You see, I’m not originally from Russia, my home was some nameless village in Eastern Europe that I’ve forgotten the name of by now, it was so long ago. But anyways, I guess fate has a funny way of administering it’s business to the ones seeking safety in times of struggle. So my mother...” You take another sip of your tea to help clear your throat and head a little bit, God you hate talking about this.

Setting it down again, you continue, “Mine accepted. They took her and twenty-two others to this facility deep in the woods. This place was practically a paradise for them...” You chuckle miserably, “soon enough the scientists pumped them full of drugs and began their altering of the embryos DNA, genetic codes, and whatever else they saw fit to mess with. Nine months later we came into this world kicking and screaming.”

“Shit.” Mutters Natasha in astonishment, fully engrossed in your story as she starts to realize maybe her upbringing wasn’t as fucked as yours.

“They monitored us for the first few months, waiting to see if anyone acted strange....nothing, to their utter disappointment. Soon they drew blood samples and as it turned out, we all had altered DNA from the serum. Just as they’d planned.”

Her brows furrow in puzzlement before she asks, “How’d you get your powers then? I don’t think I missed anything.” Insists your guest questionably as you shake your head.

“You didn’t. But you have to understand that as we grew older, all of us basically became tiny super soldiers as fucked as that is, not only did they change our genetic code for meddling with later on when we got older. But this serum was so well developed that it completely fused with the fetuses genetic code, only causing us to grow stronger as we aged from toddlers to three-year-old's and up. Testing even revealed that it slowed down our ageing process just like with Captain America. But it wouldn’t be effective till we reached our mid to late twenties.”

Natasha takes a moment to process your words before she nods in acknowledgment, “Y/N. It’s my understanding that this is a buried secret from the organization for good reason, it’s just....what year did this all take place? It’s not in any of the records I was able to dig up, not even in yours, nothing except for your date of birth.” States Natasha curiously, stopping you before you speak of anything else.

Nodding you lean your arms against the wooden table, leaning in a bit closer now, “1953, after World War ll when people where still recovering from the heavy aftermath while the Cold War was still raging on when well, you know.” Giving her a lopsided shrug, you glance from an old faded picture on the wall then back to her, “Lets just say Russia wasn’t exactly having a stellar time, nor was my mother for that matter.” You Conclude before aimlessly pursuing your lips together, “Which yes, makes me at around 60 years old. Don’t I look pretty.” You add, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Natasha’s eyes concede silent astonishment as she blinks back surprise, “Even after all these years doing what I do, meeting the people that I have. I’m still left speechless every once in awhile. Y/N I can’t even imagine what you’ve seen.” Reveals the red head honestly as her green irises flicker from your file then back up to you, a conflicted expression dancing across her features, “How did they...how did you gain your powers, aside from what the serum gave you in the process?”

An apprehensive sigh escapes freely from your lips while you lean back into the creaky old chair, a troubled look darkening your features as you avoid her intrigued gaze, “They waited until we were twelve before testing us....in the meantime we lived as normal children; learning, playing, and training to survive. You know, the typical stuff.” You add with a small breathy laugh, though no humor finds your eyes, “We had our mothers until a year before they began the experiments. But it wasn’t that terrible of a loss since they trained us to adapt to our environment and never fully depend on anyone but ourselves.....it’s sick. And I’m not even sure what they did to them, I guess I never will.”

She nods as you make a disgusted face, an acidic hatred rising in your chest at the thought of your childhood, “I’m sorry, I can’t even imagine how traumatic that must have been.”

“Oh believe me, it gets better.” You joke bitterly, “In pairs of two they tested us, putting us into rooms where two doctors would strap us down and stick a needle into our skin. After that, they waited until something dramatic happened. Oh, and it sure as fuck did.” You conclude with a sneer.

Biting her lip anxiously, Natasha asks anyway, “How many survivors?”

Scoffing, you shake your head in revulsion for what those doctors did to everyone, an angry expression soon crossing your features, “One.” You sourly mutter, “All my other friends died of the new serum they gave us, either right then and there on the table, or in the following days. You see, it was supposed to blend with our altered DNA to create something powerful out of it, something beyond humans normal capabilities. It just ended up horribly mutating everyone except for me.” You whisper, clear sadness and hatred coating your very words.

Your eyes stare sharply at the peeling table top paint, a frown on your lips as you take in a deep breath before continuing, “What they did to me....no one should have to go through something so goddamn agonizing, I was only a child, just a little girl in a terrible place whether I knew it or not....and you know how it affected me?” She slowly shakes her head no as you smile miserably, your brows furrowed in pain, “I was gifted with bone claws that retracted out of my knuckles and one from each of my feet.” You confirm, eyes suddenly darkening in fury, “And you know what those goddamn bastards did to me afterwards? Like I hadn’t suffered enough from the pain of it all, they pumped me full of liquid Adamantium. Turning my claws to solid metal, the fucking strongest material on earth. Right in the body of an eleven year old child!” You shout furiously as she flinches back at your outburst, blinking hard, you let out a heavy breath before leaning back into your chair in defeat.

Calm down, Y/N. It’s just a memory now.

Strong brows dent her clear skin in thought as you await a response, after a few long moments does she soon gather her racing mind, lacing her fingers together she raises a brow at you, “That doesn’t explain how you’ve survived so long. The years working for Hydra, they turned you into a weapon....yet you’ve escaped and haven’t been killed yet. Not even a scratch to be found.....well, at least that I can see.”

Turning to face the puzzled assassin, you give her a lopsided grin, your chill composure coming back to you quickly enough, “I didn’t just get claws from the enhanced serum that fucked with my genetic make-up, it completely heightened my humanly abilities. Suddenly I was stronger, faster, and all my senses felt like they were on overload. Best of it all, I came to realize I had accelerated healing capabilities. Who would have thought that their shitty inhuman experiments would have gone so horrendously, yet with the one miracle of an exception. Me.”

“I had figured that branch of Hydra was meddling on dangerous ground, I hadn’t realized the extent of what they were doing. Did they try making any more like you?” She wonders.

“I was the last. Since I was the only compatible vessel, they didn’t want to waste anymore time or money on others who could possibly fail.” You explain with a shrug, “I became one of their most treasured assets.”

Pursing her lips together, she gives a slight nod before revealing a different file from her bag, you watch as she pauses for a moment before opening it up, you quickly take notice of the many white papers pinned together. Some with encrypted symbols and words while others are in plain English. Your brows furrow as she flips the first page to reveal...

“I know I came asking for answers about classified information, but this won’t be a complete mission if I don’t ask you about your time with Hydra.” Proposes the red head cautiously while she studies your face for any hostile reactions, not getting anything but skepticism, she continues, “I understand you were very important to them. It’s recorded you’ve completed about three dozen kills over an active period of about thirty-seven years.”

You scoff before muttering, “So it would seem. They gave me my first mission in 1971...when I was 17.”

“Right, but that’s not exactly what I’m seeking.” Her eyes immediately trail down to the files, “I assume you must have seen this man at least once...” She flips another page over and pulls out a playing card sized photograph, she turns it around and slides it closer to you. Instantly you recognize who he is, but how did she?..

“I haven’t seen him in years, nor heard of him for that matter.” You mutter, though your tone shifts to a more aggravated one.

Noticing this difference, Natasha continues, “That’s the look of someone who has met him for less then friendly reasons. What happened to the Winter Soldier?” You take a long moment to study his stoic face of icy blue and white, and black; its when he was in the Cryostacis chamber, the place where they would freeze him to keep their Winter Soldier locked away until he was needed for a new mission. All that you can fully witness is his sleeping face, though you know exactly what he looks like up close and with no ice crystals in his dark hair.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you slide the photograph back over to her folder, “I met him when I was 25 in 1979, Hydra needed us for a duel mission somewhere in South Africa, they needed their best. We were tasked with locating and stealing some precious metal which we later learned was Vibranium, because apparently they had used the last of the Adamantium on me.” You reveal with a casual shrug, “It went relatively well as expected...and well, we worked with each other many times after that, until I escaped and he was sent to kill me in 2009.”

“You knew him for almost twenty-nine years. Do you know where he might be now?”

Scoffing, you almost laugh, “Even if I did, you’d never get him. But if I’d have to assume, he’s probably frozen in some cryo tank somewhere in the middle of Russia. Waiting to be let loose again so he can take out a new enemy of the state.”

“Right.” Nods the Black Widow as she closes up her files, her green irises quickly on you again, “Thank you for your time, and for the heavy material you spoke of.”

“It was a long time ago, someone else should remember what those fuckers did to innocent mothers and their children. No one in this entire world knows except for me, you, and the doctors I haven’t killed yet.” You growl with venom lacing your every word.

Soon you watch as she swiftly rises to her feet, as you do the same, “I wish you well then.” Affirms the Black Widow as you follow her lead to the door, she stands on the other side for a moment before asking, “Is there any way I could find you again?”

Leaning against the door frame, you break out into a knowing smirk as she stands waiting expectantly, “If you’re lucky, you’ll never see me again. Goodbye agent Romanoff.” And with that do you gently close the door, leaving her in the hallway with a plethora of useful information, but still nothing significantly useful on the Winter Soldier, now only time will tell if he ever happens to show up on her radar again. Hopefully not, she thinks doubtfully before turning on her heels and sauntering off down the hallway.

——

Almost two whole years had passed since last you’ve spoken to the assassin, in that time you’ve watched her speak on live television when Hydra had finally been exposed to the world and all their secrets let loose for the prying hungry eyes of the public.

Even some of your own information had been leaked, the world knew who you were now, what atrocities you’ve committed for the organization during your time with them and that you’ve been M.I.A since 2009. Now you’re on an international watchlist. Fantastic. Apparently some very important leaders of the world and other prestige family members alike aren’t very fond of yourself for murdering their adversaries or filthy rich husbands. 

But it’s not like you had a choice, Hydra would always alter your memories when they shocked you into forgetting who you even were; thus you’d complete a mission and a couple days or so later would your mind stitch itself back together again the best it could from the electrical trauma. Only the killing part would be a dark and fuzzy memory, thus revealing itself to you in bits and pieces at a time. Soon everything blurred together and you just complied or face getting electrocuted multiple times a session, until your eyes remained empty and dangerous.

Considering you’ve been on the run since that information was released, in this time, you’ve tracked down past agents and doctors alike who had wronged you, considering you now had full access to their recent history. Hence increasing your body count as you went from one country to the next, making the world a tad bit lighter with their darkness whipped from existence.

Although soon enough you became unsettled with the loads of information expunged from Hydra, your mind inevitably making a one eighty back to a certain broody super soldier from your complicated past. He must be in the world somewhere, living as a secret civilian or whatnot. He has to be. And you’ve decided to find him before someone else does.

Maybe it was curiosity, or the fact that he was like you and shared a bloody history with Hydra, but your instinctual drive to find the Winter Soldier eventually drew you the beautiful city of Bucharest, Romania. Although he didn’t make finding him effortless in the slightest, after endless days hacking into network databases looking for even a snippet of information. You found a lead.

Turns out airport security footage is very useful, even more so, footage from around the city’s grant center; and from there you were able to track him to Romania. Eventually after a couple of days in the city, you were able to catch a glimpse of him at the local market place and thus followed him to his little shitty apartment without him as so much as noticing.

Once he left again, you slipped inside and began your wait for his eventual return. But will he even want to speak with you? Does he even remember you? Your memories hadn’t been continuously whipped like his were, granted you were forced into cryo more then once and electroshocked into forgetting your memories. It eventfully stopped once they realized your mind would just heal itself into remembering again, so instead they threatened you with a tracking device deep into your skin tissue that would blow up if you tried to run.

Clearly you eventually found a way around this, as terrible of a memory it gave you.

——

Looking out the window, your ears suddenly pick up the sound of boots stealthily walking down the hallway, they’re incredibly light against the tiles outside, perhaps he somehow knows you’ve been following him. A moment later the scent of a man fills your nostrils and you know he’s inside the apartment. You could barely hear the door.

He’s silent as a mouse, nothing indicating he’s even there except for his rapidly thudding heartbeat that pounds anxiously against his strong chest; you slowly turn to face him. His hat from earlier is gone, dark blue eyes stare warily on you while soft breaths emit from his slightly parted lips. He’s not afraid, but he is nervous.

Folding your arms over your chest, you take a glance around the room, “Nice place.” You confirm casually, eyes back on the Winter Soldier in a second as the corner of your lips pull into a humored half grin, “I’m not here to complete some personal Vendetta against you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then why are you here?” His voice is more curious then cold, maybe he can be reasoned with after all.

Taking a step forward, you shrug, “Wanted to make sure you aren’t still on their side.”

He keeps silent for a moment as you watch him watch you, “I’m done with them.” Mutters Bucky, disgust dripping off his words. That’s exactly what you wanted to hear. Progress.

“Good.” You add with the tiniest of smiles before motioning towards his little kitchen table, “Mind if we sit and talk? As, well...I guess civilians now.”

Studying your face for any indication of falseness and hostility, he’s pleasantly surprised when he finds none. Bucky takes off both of his gloves and sits, metal hand shinning in the low lighting. A threat or a precaution? Maybe he just wants it off?

You follow his example, and soon the two of you sit not even three feet away from each other. Both yourself and Bucky hold an awkward silence for a long moment as the tension in the room rises, shifting your gaze from the counter behind him, you don’t really notice as he trails his eyes over your face, “I remember you.” Reveals Bucky to your great surprise, your eyes falling onto him in an instant, “They sent us on missions together, until you left and they woke me up to kill you for it.”

Smiling, you let out a humored breath of air, “Turns out you didn’t miss me after all. I gave you a nice scar for your troubles though, you still have it?”

Bucky purses his lips into the tiniest of shadowy grins, although no real joy is shown, “It’s a thin little line across my left rib cage. Just barely reached my bone.” Yeah, and I would have if you didn’t punch me in the eye socket first, you think to yourself from when the Winter Soldier had tracked you down. But that’s a long story.

“Glad it’s healed and they didn’t have you come after me a second time. I don’t think I would have let you live again.”

He thinks hard for a second as he processes your words, “You let me live? The first time?”

“Well,” You serenely admit, “I couldn’t exactly kill you...I guess, well....I don’t really know why I didn’t kill you when I had the chance. Guess I’m not as ruthless as Hydra wanted.” You mumble with a conflicted frown, the two of you keep silent before you break the odd tension, “Doesn’t matter now. I heard about what happened in D.C. just like the rest of the world. Gotta say, I was wondering what everyone over there had been getting themselves into.”

“They leaked everything.” Mumbles Bucky with a knowing flash of insight within his dark restless eyes.

“I know.” You add with a slow nod, “I’ve been traveling more cautiously for the past year and a half now. You’d think they’d let us live in peace, of course not. But I guess it means the world knows what a piece of shit organization Hydra is. So that’s something.”

“Yes.” Agrees Bucky, eyes trailing from your fingerless gloves to your face, of course he remembers what hides beneath, “What happened to you since you left?

Fumbling with your fingers as they lay against his table, you turn you head to the window, the ghost of a smile dancing across your lips, “Surviving. You?”

He shifts his gaze back down to his metal hand as you turn to face him, “About the same I’d say.”

Leaning back against your creaky wooden chair, you hand him a small yet friendly smile, “Well then. What of us now? Two ex-assassins alone in the world. With nothing but our wit and fists to keep us afloat.” You add with a low chuckle, he doesn’t crack.

Losing your smile, the two of you keep silent as ghosts for a long moment before Bucky shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “I got some tea.” Replies the admittedly handsome man now since you have a moment to really look; the briefest hint of a grin revealing itself against his lips for only but a flash of a second. But you still see it.

Fumbling with your fingers you give him a pursed lip grin, “I like tea.”