#or if i break it down into 8 hour days....14 days

[bluefuecoco]

my friend was making fun of me for having 807 hours in stardew valley on steam, and it’s like damn.....at least i dont have 920 hours and only half the achievements, like my other friend. leave me alone

[80yearoldmanmoodboard]

My ADHD riddled ass who hasn’t finished a real book since 5th grade somehow managed to sit down and read The Autobiography of Special Agent Dale Cooper: My Life In Tapes in its entirety yesterday and in my completion of it I’d like to share excerpts of the Sleep Experiment Cooper did on himself in College:

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

prompt 8 and 14 (shy readers first time) and moms bsf wanda

You Were Red and You Liked Me Because I Was Blue

Mom's bsf!Wanda Maximoff x shy!innocent!Romanoff!fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, age gap relationship (W=35, R=20) W calls herself Mommy, use of pet names, W fingers R

A/N: I worked on this all day while I didn't feel good and I have a killer headache at the moment so if I missed any warning I'm sorry. I can't think anymore.

The air was cold, without snow falling to distract you it felt unbearable to be waiting for your ride back home for break. Unfortunately you mom was off on a work trip until 3 days before Christmas so instead her best friend, Wanda would be picking you up.

Normally Wanda would have also been preoccupied this time of year, but since her and Vision finalized their divorce and custody of the boys, Vision would be getting them Christmas break first.

You couldn't imagine what that must be like for Wanda. Suddenly after 10 years of family tradition she was alone again and Wanda being alone was never a good thing. You'd known Wanda for a long time. After Natasha helped take down the red room she'd taken you, the youngest widow on the ship under her wing. The day you gained Natasha as a mom, you also gained an aunt Yelena. You had always heard stories of the famous Black Widow that got away and you'd seen Yelena training with others the greatest child assassin the world has ever known. Though you know her now as Auntie Lena who eats Mac and cheese straight out of the pot.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you see the familiar red subaru ascent. Wanda pulled up with a smile as you opened up the trunk to set your luggage in before quickly getting in the passenger seat with a shiver. Wanda pulled you into her arms, your body instantly heating from her contact.

“Hi sweetheart. How was the flight in?” She asked near your ear, making your heart skip a beat as you pulled back, trying to calm your body down.

“It was fine. Better than having you drive five hours to come grab me.” You told her as you put on your seat belt.

“I wouldn't have minded a 5 hour road trip with you sweet girl.” You bit the inside of your cheek at her words, choosing to stare out the window as she pulled away from the airport.

With Wanda's help you brought your luggage into the house and headed to your room to finally lie down and stretch out. The flight was only an hour and a half and the car ride back was about a half hour. You had barley acknowledged Wanda when she said about her starting on dinner instead choosing to go shower and clean yourself up.

You'd been told that even though you're an adult your mom wanted Wanda there with you. She said it was so you could keep an eye on the other. For Wanda it was so you'd stay out of trouble and for you it was to keep Wanda company. Natasha knew what it was like for Wanda to be alone.

What you and Natasha didn't know though was Wanda had fawned over you since she met you. When Natasha first introduced you and Yelena you always hid away. A little mouse making little to no noise as you moved. Even your thoughts were quiet to Wanda. It was something she found solace in around you. She knew what had happened to you and the other widows. Though you were next step of perfecting what Drekovy wanted out of the widows, total control they had perfected and for you, the only survivor of your age group, an enhanced super soldier serum. It gave you all the same enhancements as Steve and Bucky, but you stayed small, unassuming so no one ever saw you coming.

“Y/N! Dinner's ready sweet girl!” Wanda called up as you looked over yourself in the mirror, the scars lining your arms, shoulders, chest. They were everywhere.

You took the stairs two at a time, hair still damp, but Wanda's cooking smelt too good to keep her waiting. She looked up from moving things from the counter to the dining table. Natasha always used to have these ‘family meals’ where her parents, Yelena, Wanda, Vision, and the boys would come over. They stopped happening when Wanda and Vision decided to get the divorce. A smile was on Wanda's face,

“I made your favorite. Help me move it over to the table.” You happily helped out so the two of you could eat dinner together.

As Wanda was cleaning up and insisting that you go relax on the couch and get a movie ready you watched her from the couch, forgoing a movie and putting on The Office instead. You needed the background noise because to you your thoughts felt so loud that Wanda must be able to hear you if you didn't have something distracting her.

As she finished up and sat next to you she gave no indication of hearing your thoughts which she often did to those around her. Her arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against her as if you were two magnets. You bit the corner of your lips trying to watch the show.

You knew Wanda was experienced obviously, she has twins. You on the other hand haven't even gotten the opportunity to kiss a girl or a boy or anyone because from the day you met Wanda all you ever wanted was her. You'd never tell her that though.

She was with Vision when you met her nearly 13 years ago. With everything that happened after that with Thanos and then defeating him without the loss of half the population you could just live life normally for the first time.

Wanda's hand found your thigh, rubbing gently as she watched the show, one the two of you have watched multiple times over the years. You enjoyed sitcoms like she did along with being introduced to reality TV which is just a guilty pleasure really.

“W-Wands…” your voice was barely a whisper and Wanda pretended not to hear you. Not even when you started squirming under her touch as her hand grew closer to your hot center. Her hand squeezed you as you let out a little whimper. “Wands…” you tried again, trying to be louder, but you couldn't. Once again your plea goes unacknowledged as her pinky brushes against your clit, your hands fly down to her wrist. She finally looks at you. You don't dare look at her.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She asks so innocently as if she has no idea what she's doing.

“W-Wands…I…you…” you fumble with your words. Her other hand reaches your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“What about us sweet girl?” You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. She pulls you onto her lap, her hands resting on your hips. “Just watch the show sweet girl. Let Mommy play.” You felt like fireworks went off in your stomach. Sure you'd heard the boys call Wanda Mommy and yeah you'd heard her call herself Mommy over the years, but never in the tone she just used and never directed at you.

You felt like everything on you was burning except for Wanda's hands that were always cold and clad in rings. You did as told keeping your eyes on the screen until you felt her hand push past your waistband. Your hands once again grabbing her wrist, not because you didn't want her to, you really wanted her too. You were nervous.

“W-Wands…I've never…” Wanda moved forward, tilting her head to look at you.

“Not ever at college?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“N-not even a kiss…” you admitted. Wanda's hand leaving your shorts and moving to your face.

“These precious lips haven't kissed anyone else?” You shook your head, “So I'll be your first?” She asked pulling you closer. All you could manage as your heart pounded was a soft ‘mhmm’ before her lips touched yours.

As her lips meet yours, it's a gentle yet electrifying sensation, sending waves of warmth cascading through you. Wanda's touch is tender, guiding you through this unfamiliar territory with ease and patience. With each fleeting moment, you feel yourself melting into her embrace, the world around you fading into the background.

When Wanda pulls back, there's a brief moment of hesitation, as if time itself is holding its breath. You find yourself lost in her gaze, a mixture of emotions swirling within you – anticipation, vulnerability, and a newfound courage. Slowly, a soft smile tugs at the corners of Wanda's lips, her eyes sparkling with tenderness.

With a gentle brush of her fingers against your cheek, Wanda whispers words of reassurance, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. And as you lean into her touch, a sense of peace settles within you.

The night carried on without Wanda trying to slip past your shorts instead she kept stealing kisses late into the night before deciding it was time for bed. It was when you moved you could feel just how wet you'd before and you freeze, your thighs smacking tightly together. Wanda stopped, a tug on your hand.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She looked back at you, confusion etched on her face.

“It…its..icky…” you squirmed and Wanda smirked, taking two steps towards you.

“Don't worry my sweet girl,” she tilted your head up, “Mommy is going to take good care of you.” Her breath against your lip, her voice sweet and thick with her accent, the one you heard all those years ago. Your legs want to turn to jelly.

Wanda wasn't expecting you to stay quiet once her fingers slipped past your wet folds, but you did. Little breathy moans, small whimpers, tiny pleas fell past your lips as your face burned and your eyes screwed shut.

“Don't close your eyes Detka. Look at me.” You could only obey with her voice sounding the way it did. You looked at her, she smiled at you and only picked up her pace.

You squirmed and felt like you were going to burst as you whimpered and tried to get away, but she held you there. You tried closing your legs, but she held them open.

“Open your legs Detka. I wanna see you.” Her nails dug into your thigh.

“F-feels weird…” you squeaked out.

“You're gonna cum for Mommy it'll make you feel better. Go on. Let it happen.” As if your body was waiting on her word, that coil inside of you snapped. Your back arched as your eyes rolled back. “That's a good girl…Mommy’s good girl.” Her fingers slowed down before leaving you. Your eyes closed but soon enough Wanda was helping you sit up.

“Water sweet girl. Take a few sips.” You did as told, knowing Wanda always knew best. When she felt you had enough she tapped your cheek and you let go.

She helped you clean yourself up, the cool towel feeling nice against your hot skin and then into pajamas which only consisted of an old band t-shirt of Wanda's and a pair of your panties. As she got the two of you settled into your bed, holding you against her chest. Her fingers moved through your hair as your eyes began to flutter she spoke,

“We're going to have a lot of fun until your mom comes home.” You smiled against her skin. You almost hoped she wouldn't be home for Christmas if it meant more time playing like this with Wanda.

[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 16

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 6977

@ohdrey89 read my mind...

sorry if it feels a little rushed but I needed to get to this part, it's too good...

A little while later, when the pizza was mostly gone and the team had settled into casual conversation, you caught Nat’s eye from across the table. You gave a faint nod towards the door, and she leaned over and whispered something to Wanda as you started to scoot your chair back.

You leaned over to Bucky, whispering “I’ll be right back,” then stood and made your way to the door, Nat and Wanda hot on your tail.

You walked down the hall a little ways, then turned around to face them. They had a mix of confusion and excitement on their faces when they finally spoke.

“What’s going on?” Nat said, narrowing her eyes playfully.

“Oh, I think we know exactly what’s going on,” Wanda said with a smirk.

You just sighed, shaking your head, but you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face.

“So, I was telling Bucky what we talked about today–”

“Of course,” Nat said, cutting you off with a smirk. “But go on.”

“And we talked about the ‘label’ conversation…”

“I knew it!” Wanda said, pumping a fist in the air.

“And…” Nat said expectantly, wanting you to finish.

“He officially asked me to be his girlfriend.”

The three of you looked at each other with smiles, before shrieking with excitement. Wanda was jumping up and down, Nat just shook her head like finally, and you just stood there, stupid smile covering your face that you couldn’t wipe off even if you wanted to.

“About time,” Nat said, followed by an exaggerated nod from Wanda.

“Seriously,” Wanda added, “we’ve been waiting for this since day one.”

You just rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to say something, but Nat cut you off.

“I mean, come on. Literally hours after you met you were crouching under his arm at the fridge and he offered to make you breakfast. That’s called destiny.”

You just laughed. “I mean…yeah, honestly I should have known.”

“It’s one of those classic ‘everyone can see it but you’ stories,” Wanda said with a dreamy smile on her face.

“Yeah,” you said, still smiling. “Looking back it’s like – how could I not have seen it,” you added with a laugh.

“No for real,” Nat said, all of you laughing now.

“So,” Wanda said, linking her arm through yours, “when’s the wedding?”

“Yeah,” Nat said, looping her arm through your other one. “We need to start looking for bridesmaid dresses,” she added, smirking at you.

“Oh, calm down,” you said, slowly walking back toward the conference room. “I’m sure we still have…” you paused, playfully tapping your lips with your finger like you were thinking, “…about a week before he finally breaks down and asks me to marry him.”

The three of you started giggling, still walking arm-in-arm down the hallway, and you knew that no matter what happened next, it was going to be fun having them to talk about it with.

--

The next morning, you woke up tangled up with Bucky in his bed, wearing nothing but his t-shirt, the rest of your clothes discarded on the floor.

Bucky reached over and turned his alarm off, arms immediately coming back to wrap around you.

You let out a small, content sigh and burrowed a little closer, your cheek pressed against his bare chest. His heartbeat was steady and warm beneath your skin, and his metal hand moved slowly up and down your back in a lazy rhythm.

“Morning,” he murmured, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Mmm. No talking yet,” you mumbled, eyes still closed.

He chuckled softly, brushing his lips against your forehead. “Fair enough.”

You lay there a while longer, caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness, wrapped up in warmth and quiet and him. At some point, his hand found yours, fingers lacing together naturally. It was peaceful and unhurried, and you didn’t want to move. But eventually, the light filtering through the blinds and the very faint sound of the compound starting to wake up made you sigh.

“I should get up,” you muttered reluctantly.

Bucky gave a dramatic groan, tightening his grip around your waist. “Don’t. Just stay here. I’ll say you’ve been kidnapped.”

You laughed lightly, then tilted your head to glance up at him. “I probably should just leave a brush and a toothbrush in here at this point. I’m in here more than my own room.”

He laughed at that, eyes crinkling with amusement. “You should. Actually…I can do that.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait – you’re serious?”

He shrugged, smiling. “Yeah. Why not? I’ll clear out a drawer. Make it official.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “I was joking, but honestly…that might not be a bad idea.”

Grinning, you finally sat up, stretching your arms above your head before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “Okay, I’m gonna go get ready. Try not to miss me too much.”

“I make no promises,” he said, leaning over to kiss your shoulder before you slipped out from under the covers, pulled on your shorts, and padded out of the room.

--

By the time you finished getting ready and made your way down to the kitchen, the smell of coffee pulled you in like a magnet. The room was already softly buzzing with the sounds of the team talking and eating breakfast.

Bucky was already there, sitting at the kitchen island with a mug in front of him. He looked up as you walked in and gave you that slow, familiar smile.

Without a word, he nudged a second mug toward the empty seat next to him – your usual spot. You glanced down and saw it was already fixed just how you liked it. Perfect.

You slid into the seat with a smile, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. “You’re really trying to lock this down, huh?”

Bucky smirked. “Just being a good boyfriend.”

No one in the room said anything. No whooping from Sam, no eyebrow raises from Nat. Just the soft clink of a spoon in a mug and the gentle hum of the coffee maker.

You sipped your drink, glancing sideways at him. “This feels weird. We’re not getting bombarded.”

“Shh, you’ll jinx it,” he said, smirking at you.

“I guess everyone’s finally accepted it,” you whispered.

“About time,” he said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Okay,” Sam cut in, like usual, “well if he’s gonna do that, then we have to make fun of him.”

You just looked up at Bucky and gave him a mock glare. “Way to go, Sergeant Softie.”

He just smiled and shook his head, then leaned back and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“Well, get used to it everyone,” he said proudly.

The room burst into laughter and fake groans, but you could tell by the smiles that they all loved it.

As the laughter died down and everyone settled into their mugs and conversation again, Steve cleared his throat from where he stood by the fridge.

“Alright, listen up,” he said, voice cutting through the room just enough to get everyone’s attention. “Before we head down to the gym, I’ve got something to share.”

You looked over at him curiously, Bucky’s arm still warm around your shoulders.

Steve glanced at you with a small smile. “Starting today, y/n is officially training with the team.”

A little cheer went up around the room – Sam gave a dramatic fist pump, Nat clapped once like she’d been waiting for this moment, and even Tony offered a sarcastic little golf clap from where he leaned against the counter.

“Welcome to the team,” Bucky said dramatically, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You survived the emotional initiation. Now it’s time for the physical one.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin. “Great. Can’t wait to get punched in the face by super soldiers.”

“Oh, I’m gentle,” Nat said with a wink. “Mostly.”

Steve chuckled, then started talking about the plan for training.

But you just leaned over to Bucky, smirking. “I think I liked your welcome package better,” you said, nudging his side with your elbow.

He looked at you, eyes sparkling, and gave a quiet laugh. “Yeah, me too.”

You clinked your coffee mug gently against his in silent agreement.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Sam said, standing up and stretching. “Let’s move. We’ve got a gym to sweat in and a new recruit to haze.”

“Oh good,” you said dryly, pushing your chair back. “Exactly how I wanted to spend my morning.”

Bucky stood and offered his hand to help you up. “You’re gonna kill it,” he murmured.

“Better not kill me,” you said under your breath, but the grin on your face gave you away.

--

The team filtered into the training room in a casual group, everyone stretching out, chatting, and pulling on gloves or slipping on gear. The walls echoed faintly with the sound of sneakers on mats and the low hum of the overhead lights. You stood near Bucky, following his lead as you stretched out your arms and legs.

“Don’t worry,” he said under his breath, leaning over just slightly. “First rule of training – look confident even if you’re not.”

You smirked. “Well good news – I am confident.”

That earned a chuckle from him and a raised brow from Sam nearby. “Ooooh, she’s talking spicy already.”

After a few minutes of stretches, Steve clapped his hands. “Alright, warm-up time. Ladders, shuttle runs, and core circuits. Let’s go.”

The group moved like a well-oiled machine, and you jumped in with them, heart pumping quickly as you kept pace. You could feel them watching you – small glances here and there, like they were gauging what you could do. But you held your own through the warm-up, breath steady, footing solid.

By the time the real drills started, sweat had begun to bead on your forehead. Steve called out movement patterns and agility sequences while Sam tossed in cardio bursts. You didn’t miss a step.

“Damn,” Sam muttered as you cut sharp around a cone and vaulted over a low barrier. “Alright, Speedy.”

“Not bad,” Nat added, tossing you a nod of approval as you passed.

You smiled but didn’t break focus. The movements were fast, but you were faster. Crisp, efficient, and entirely in control.

After another thirty minutes of drills, Steve called the team to the mat. “Alright, last piece for today – sparring. Light contact. Controlled. Let’s pair off.”

He looked around, then pointed between you and Nat. “You two.”

The whole room went a little quiet.

“Let’s see what she’s got,” Clint muttered, nudging Sam.

Nat cracked her knuckles and gave you a look that was half-challenge, half-welcome. “You ready?”

You just shrugged. “Are you?”

Everyone else took a step back, forming a loose circle around the mat. You squared up, eyes locked on Nat, waiting for her to make the first move.

She lunged – fast, precise – but you deflected smoothly, pivoted, and used her momentum to spin her off-balance. She adjusted quickly, but you were already ducking low and sweeping a leg. A second later, Nat was flat on her back, blinking up at the ceiling.

The room went silent.

“Yo – did she just pin Nat like it was nothing?” Sam asked, wide-eyed.

Nat laughed, shaking her head as you offered her a hand. “Okay,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’m done taking it easy on you.”

You just smirked. “Bring it on.”

The second round was different – faster, more intense. Nat moved with sharper precision, testing you, but you adjusted to her flow. You didn’t overpower her, but you kept up, holding your ground, ducking, weaving, using technique instead of brute strength. The crowd around you had fallen totally quiet, too focused to even joke.

And then – just as Nat tried to flip you – you shifted your weight, locked her arm, and twisted cleanly to take her down again. This time you landed on top, pinning her shoulders. Firm. Clean.

The whole room erupted.

“Okay!” Clint shouted. “I’m not sparring her.”

“Bucky, man,” Sam said, laughing, “you better behave. She’ll fold you like laundry.”

Bucky just stood there with the biggest grin on his face. He shook his head and crossed his arms. “That’s my girl.”

You pushed off Nat, helping her up again as she gave you an impressed look.

“Where the hell were you hiding all that?” she asked, brushing off her shoulders.

You just shrugged, trying to hide your grin.

Bucky met your gaze across the mat, pride written all over his face. You gave him a wink, heart pounding – not from the fight, but from how good it felt to surprise everyone and hold your own.

Yeah. You were officially part of the team now.

You and Nat were still catching your breath when the group circled up again, stretching out tired muscles and wiping away sweat. You dropped into a seated stretch beside Bucky, who passed you a water bottle without a word – just a soft smile and a subtle nudge of his knee against yours.

“Well damn,” Sam said, flopping onto the mat nearby. “You’ve been holding out on us.”

“You were scary fast,” Clint added, rotating his shoulder. “Like, I blinked and Nat was already on the floor.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or worried,” Wanda said with a grin.

“Oh, you should definitely be worried,” Nat said, reaching over to nudge you. “She’s officially dangerous now.”

Bucky just chuckled beside you, pride practically radiating off him. “Told you all she was tough.”

“She’s more than tough, Barnes,” Tony said, pointing at you like he was mentally calculating your stats. “We might need to run some diagnostics and make sure she’s not secretly enhanced.”

“Oh please,” you said with a laugh, shaking your head.

Steve clapped his hands once more, bringing everyone’s attention back. “Alright, before we all scatter – quick heads-up. We’ve got a mission coming up in a couple of days. Everyone’s going. First planning meeting is at two this afternoon.”

A few groans went up, but most everyone nodded.

Steve gave a short nod. “See you all later.”

The group began breaking off into pairs, stretching and chatting as they headed for their rooms or grabbed their things. Bucky fell into step beside you, glancing sideways as you both walked.

“You were incredible back there,” he said quietly, nudging your elbow. “I’m seriously proud of you.”

You turned your head toward him, beaming. “Thanks. I think that’s the most fun I’ve ever had in training.”

“I believe it,” he said with a grin. “You made Nat look like she needed a rematch.”

“She does need a rematch.”

He laughed. “That’s my girl.”

--

After a quick trip to your room for a shower and fresh clothes, you wandered down the hallway barefoot, hair still damp, and made your way to Bucky’s room without a second thought. You didn’t even knock – just opened the door and strolled right in.

He was shirtless, facing his closet, pulling a gray t-shirt from a hanger. He turned his head slightly at the sound of the door and raised an eyebrow at you with a smirk.

“Ever heard of knocking?”

You shrugged as you walked past him and flopped down onto his bed, face first into the pillow. “Nope. You’re lucky I didn’t bring snacks.”

“Lucky, huh?” he said, amused as he tugged the shirt on. “This is what we’re doing now? Just waltzing in like you own the place?”

“Might as well,” you said, voice muffled against his blanket. “I’m in here more than I’m in my own room.”

He snorted, stepping around the bed and picking up his boots from the floor. “Not wrong.”

You peeked one eye open as he started tidying up, gathering a couple of his shirts and tossing them into the hamper. Then, without comment, he bent down, picked up your clothes from last night off the floor, and dropped them into his laundry basket too.

“Wow,” you said, watching him with a smirk. “We’re laundry-official now?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said casually. “This is fully domestic. Should probably start charging rent.”

You chuckled and rolled onto your back, one arm flopped over your head. “Better give me a drawer first.”

“Deal.”

You stayed there, lazily chatting while he tidied up – straightening pillows, stacking a few books, putting some clothes away. Every now and then he’d glance over at you like he still couldn’t quite believe you were there.

Eventually your stomach grumbled loud enough to interrupt the calm, and Bucky laughed. “C’mon. Let’s get food before you pass out.”

--

The two of you wandered down to the kitchen, warming up some food and slipping into your usual spots. No one said anything – just the clink of forks and the quiet buzz of conversation.

Until about five minutes in.

“So…” Sam said, not even looking up from his plate. “Did Bucky ask you to use those moves on him after training?”

You choked on your drink as the table erupted into laughter.

Bucky didn’t even flinch. He just kept chewing, swallowed, and casually replied, “Please. I’ve already seen those moves. And more.”

Your jaw dropped. “Bucky!” you yelled, smacking his arm.

Everyone else howled around you. Even Steve looked like he was trying not to laugh, head in his hand.

Bucky just grinned and took another bite. “What? He started it.”

You glared at him, but the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you.

You just shook your head as the group settled down, falling into casual conversation. As 2:00 rolled around, everyone started getting up and heading to the conference room.

Everyone filtered into the room, falling into their usual seats. The big screen at the front lit up with a map and a set of mission files, and Steve stepped up in front of it with a remote in one hand and that familiar "mission face" on.

“Alright, listen up,” he started. “We’ve got intel on a Hydra splinter group operating out of an abandoned compound just outside of Prague. Intel says they’ve been moving a lot of material in and out of the area over the last few weeks – equipment, supplies, and some kind of high-tech disruptor we haven’t identified yet.”

You sat up a little straighter, the playful vibe from earlier quickly shifting to focus. Everyone else leaned in too – Nat and Sam already scanning the screen, Clint scribbling something on a notepad, Wanda narrowing her eyes as she listened.

Steve clicked the remote and another screen popped up, this one showing an aerial image of the compound.

“We’re wheels up at 0600 two days from now. Plan is to land outside the perimeter, infiltrate quietly, and disable the disruptor before backup arrives to secure the area. It’s a full-team op. Everyone has a role.”

He turned to look directly at you, giving you a small nod. “You’re officially in the field roster. You’ll be with me, Wanda, and Bucky on the east flank.”

You blinked in surprise and nodded slowly. Your first real mission. And they were trusting you with a frontline role?

You glanced at Bucky, who gave you a small grin. Pride and confidence radiated off him like sunlight.

Steve kept going. “Nat, Sam, Clint, you’ll take the west side. Minimal contact until we give the signal. If things go sideways, fall back to the point marked here–” he clicked again, highlighting a spot on the map, “and regroup.”

He ran through more specifics – gear loadouts, comm channels, support teams on standby. You jotted notes where needed, but your mind was racing a little. This was real. And they were trusting you like you’d been doing this all along.

As Steve wrapped up, he looked around the table. “Questions?”

Clint raised his hand lazily. “Is there a post-mission pizza plan, or are we on our own?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Debrief first, pizza later.”

Everyone chuckled and began gathering their things, the buzz of excitement mixed with tension filling the air.

Bucky waited until you stood, then quietly fell into step beside you again as you headed back out into the hallway.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low. “You went kind of quiet.”

“I think I’m still waiting for someone to say I’m not actually going,” you admitted with a small laugh. “Feels a little surreal.”

Bucky bumped your shoulder. “You earned it. You crushed training today, and Steve wouldn’t put you on a team unless he was sure you could handle it.”

You gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Besides,” he added, flashing you a grin, “you’ll be with me. I’ve got your six.”

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

--

The next few days passed in a blur of training drills, briefing updates, and strategy sessions. There wasn’t much time for anything else – early mornings turned into long afternoons in the gym or meetings, with evenings spent poring over floor plans and contingency protocols. Meals were quick, conversations even quicker. Everyone was locked in, focused.

You did your best to keep up with the pace – memorizing every exit route, running sparring matches until you were sore in muscles you didn’t even know you had. But underneath the adrenaline and determination, a quiet knot of nerves had started to settle in your chest.

And it only got worse the night before departure.

You were in your room, packing for the fifth time, pulling things out of your bag and putting them back in like that might somehow calm the anxiety in your head. Clothes, gear, weapons, backup comm – what were you forgetting?

You sighed and rubbed your hands over your face.

Then your door creaked open.

You turned around, startled, just as Bucky stepped inside. His face shifted the second he saw you – smile dropping instantly, replaced by quiet concern.

“Hey,” he said, shutting the door behind him and walking over to you. “What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You just looked at him helplessly for a second before letting out a heavy sigh and stepping forward.

He didn’t hesitate. His arms were around you in an instant, holding you tight as you pressed your face into his chest and let your body melt against his.

“I’m just…nervous,” you admitted, your voice muffled. “I keep packing and unpacking and checking things like I’m gonna forget something. I don’t know. My brain’s just spinning.”

Bucky’s hand moved slowly up and down your back. “You’re not gonna forget anything.”

You didn’t answer, and he leaned back just enough to look at you, his hands still firm on your arms.

“You’re ready for this,” he said softly. “You’ve trained hard, you’ve done the work. You’re smarter than half of us and quicker than most. I’ve seen it.”

You gave a half-laugh, eyes still wide with uncertainty.

“And I’ll be with you the whole time, alright?” he added.

You nodded slowly, eyes locking with his. “Okay.”

He smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Come here,” he said gently, tugging you toward the bed. “You’re done packing. You’ve checked it a hundred times. Just sit with me for a bit.”

And for the first time all day, your shoulders dropped just a little.

You both sat down on the edge of the bed, and for a while, neither of you said anything. The tension in your chest was still there, but it had loosened its grip – dulled a little by his presence.

“I keep replaying every possible scenario in my head,” you said quietly after a moment, fingers twisting in your lap. “What if something goes wrong and I freeze up?”

Bucky gave a small hum. “Then one of us will have your back until you unfreeze. It happens. It’s part of it.”

You glanced over at him. “You make it sound so normal.”

He shrugged. “Because it is. Doesn’t mean it’s not hard. Or scary. But freezing up doesn’t mean failing. It means you’re human.”

You let out a slow breath. “I think I needed to hear that.”

He reached over, lacing his fingers through yours. “You’re gonna do great. You’ve already proven that you belong out there.”

You gave a small smile, then stood, brushing your hands down your thighs. “Okay. I need to stop spiraling.”

You crossed the room, zipped up your bag with finality, and set it gently off to the side near the door. Then you pulled out your clothes for the morning – your tactical gear, boots, undershirt – and laid them neatly across the back of your desk chair, ready to go.

Behind you, Bucky stood and grabbed your bag without saying a word, slinging it easily over one shoulder. You gave him a grateful look, and the two of you headed down the hallway side by side.

The kitchen was quiet when you got there – just the soft tick of the wall clock and the low hum of the fridge. A small pile of duffel bags and tactical packs had already started to gather near the door, everyone else just as ready for the early departure.

Bucky set your bag down beside his with a soft thunk, adjusting the strap so it wouldn’t fall over. Then, without speaking, he reached out and laced his fingers through yours again, giving your hand a light squeeze.

You didn’t need to say anything.

The walk back to his room was slow and quiet. Not tense – just heavy with that last bit of calm before everything kicked into motion.

When you got there, you both wordlessly moved through your usual routine. He turned down the lights while you crawled into bed, pulling the covers up around you. A moment later, he joined you, shifting close until your legs tangled and his hand found yours again under the blanket.

The last thing you felt before drifting off was his lips brushing your temple, his voice soft in your ear.

“Goodnight, doll. You’ve got this.”

And for once, you actually believed it.

--

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, warm and golden, but not nearly strong enough to break through the haze of nerves beginning to creep back into your chest.

You woke tangled up with Bucky again – his arm draped across your waist, your head tucked beneath his chin, legs twisted together beneath the blanket. For a moment, neither of you moved. The world was still quiet. Heavy.

Then Bucky reached over to turn off the alarm, and you shifted.

This time, you sat up a little faster, already running over a mental checklist in your head.

Bucky blinked awake beside you, his voice still thick with sleep. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you murmured, rubbing your eyes. “Today’s the day.”

“Yeah,” he said, stretching a little before sitting up. “You sleep okay?”

You nodded, then let out a breath. “Better than I expected.”

He smiled faintly, then gestured to the bathroom. “You can get ready here if you want.”

You turned to look at him. “Seriously?”

He was already heading into the bathroom. “C’mere,” he called.

You padded across the room, still barefoot and a little dazed, and stepped into the bathroom behind him.

He pulled open the drawer beneath the sink – and your eyes widened.

Inside was everything. Your exact hairbrush. The brand of deodorant you used. Your favorite perfume. Even your skincare stuff. And not just one or two things – like, a whole backup lineup, ready to go.

Your heart caught in your throat. You stared for a beat too long before finally looking up at him.

“You – you got all this?”

He shrugged, eyes soft. “Course I did.”

You blinked, the gratitude bubbling up so fast it made your chest ache. You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tight without a word.

He didn’t say anything either – just hugged you back, his arms warm and steady.

A few seconds later, the two of you started getting ready, not saying much. You were still a little anxious, but the sight of that drawer, the thought that he’d done all that without a second thought – just to make your mornings easier – stuck with you.

You weren’t doing this alone.

When you were finished, you gave his hand one last squeeze and stepped back out into the hallway. “I’m gonna change real quick,” you said.

“Alright. I’ll meet you in a sec.”

You made your way back to your room and got dressed, slipping into your tactical gear, checking every strap and buckle like muscle memory. You tied your boots, pulled your hair back, and gave yourself one last look in the mirror.

Just as you opened your door to head out, you saw Bucky coming down the hallway toward you, already suited up.

He gave you a little nod. “Ready?”

You let out a breath and nodded back. “Yeah. Ready.”

You fell into step beside him, the two of you heading down to the kitchen in silence. The others were already there, milling about with quiet focus – checking packs, sipping coffee, scanning tablets. No one said anything when you walked in. There was no teasing, no sarcasm. Just the quiet hum of the team, fully in mission mode.

You stood close to Bucky, just listening to the low conversations until Steve finally stepped in, a duffel bag in one hand and a tablet in the other.

“Alright,” he said, voice cutting clean through the room. “Let’s move out.”

Everyone straightened, the sound of zippers and boots and clinking gear echoing around the room before everyone headed to the quinjet.

A few minutes later, the low hum of the quinjet filled the cabin as the team flew in quiet formation. Everyone was dialed in – eyes scanning files, weapons checked and rechecked, tension running under the surface like a current.

You sat between Bucky and Wanda, your knee bouncing the smallest bit.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until Bucky’s hand slid over your thigh. He didn’t say a word. Just rested it there, his thumb gently brushing in slow, grounding circles.

You looked over at him. He was staring straight ahead, jaw set, completely calm. But that simple, quiet touch? It worked better than any pep talk ever could. You took a breath, nodded once to yourself, and kept your focus forward.

The jet landed with a soft hiss, the rear ramp lowering as the team began to move.

“Alright, let’s split up,” Steve said, voice firm through the comms.

You nodded, heart thudding in your ears as you followed behind Steve, Bucky, and Wanda through the trees toward the abandoned compound. The building loomed ahead, half-collapsed and covered in vines, the remnants of something long-forgotten.

But something wasn’t right.

You slowed, eyes narrowing.

“Do you guys feel that?” you asked, glancing around.

Wanda frowned slightly, scanning the area with her abilities. “It’s…quiet.”

“Too quiet,” Bucky added, lowly.

You stopped in your tracks, turning toward the left corridor. “I’m gonna check something.”

“Stick together,” Steve said sharply, but you were already walking toward a hallway partially obscured by rubble.

“I’ll be quick,” you said into the comm, keeping low and moving with purpose. You slipped through a crumbling archway and into a side wing of the building, the air colder here.

Then you saw it.

A hidden stairwell – half-covered by an overturned crate and nearly invisible unless you were looking for it. You stepped closer, heart jumping.

Your hand went to your comm. “I found a secondary entry point. Could be storage or lower-level operations – they definitely didn’t want this seen.”

Static crackled, followed by Steve’s voice. “Hold position. We’ll come to you.”

But before you could respond, the stairwell erupted in movement – four figures burst up from below, all armed, one already firing.

You yelped and dove behind a pillar, debris exploding around you.

Adrenaline surged, and you moved fast – firing back in short bursts, staying low, repositioning quickly.

One down. Then two.

You rolled, ducked behind a support beam, then took out the third with a well-aimed shot.

The last came at you hand-to-hand, but you reacted without thinking – grabbing his wrist, flipping him with his own momentum, and landing a solid strike to knock him out cold.

It was over in seconds.

You exhaled hard, heart racing.

Then you heard boots – fast, frantic – and looked up just as Bucky stormed in, weapon raised, eyes wide and frantic.

He saw you standing, chest heaving, surrounded by unconscious bodies.

His shoulders dropped, but only for a moment.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he barked, voice sharp and panicked.

You opened your mouth, but the words caught in your throat. He was already crossing the space to you, eyes blazing.

“We told you to hold position!”

“I – I saw something, I had to check it out–”

“You could’ve been killed!” he snapped, jaw clenched.

There was something in his voice – not just anger. Fear. Real fear.

You stepped back, breath catching, the weight of it all suddenly heavier.

“I handled it,” you said quietly, but your voice shook anyway.

And Bucky just looked at you – like he didn’t know whether to shake you or hug you.

Before you could respond to Bucky’s outburst, footsteps echoed through the hallway again.

Steve rounded the corner with Wanda close behind, both of them slowing at the sight of the scene in front of them – bodies on the ground, your breathing still heavy, and Bucky standing between you and the chaos like a shield.

“You good?” Steve asked, eyes scanning you quickly.

You gave a short nod. “Yeah. Four hostiles, all neutralized. They came from that stairwell – it was hidden.”

Steve crouched near one of the downed agents, frowning. “This wasn’t just a recon post. They were guarding something.”

Wanda closed her eyes, scanning the space. “There’s something below. I can feel it – some kind of power source.”

“Alright,” Steve said, standing. “Let’s move. Whatever it is, we shut it down.”

Bucky hadn’t said a word since snapping at you, and he didn’t meet your eyes as he turned and followed Steve.

You fell in step behind them, jaw tight, trying to push the sting from your chest.

The mission didn’t take long after that. Wanda disabled the energy core while you, Bucky, and Steve secured the perimeter. It was smooth, efficient – but you barely felt it. The adrenaline had worn off, and the pit in your stomach was growing heavier by the second.

Once the building was cleared and the rest of the team rejoined, Steve called it in, and you all made your way back to the quinjet.

The flight home was silent.

You sat next to Bucky, just like always, but he never turned toward you. Never looked at you. His jaw was tight, arms crossed, staring ahead with a cold sort of stillness you’d never seen from him before.

You didn’t know what to say. The mission had gone well. You’d seen a threat, reacted fast, handled yourself. But none of that seemed to matter. Not to him.

You glanced over at him, hoping for a flicker of softness, even just a glance – but he gave you nothing.

You sat back slowly, trying to stay still even as your heart pounded again for a whole different reason.

You were proud of how you’d handled the fight. But the silence from Bucky settled in your chest like a weight.

Was he mad you didn’t listen? That you took a risk?

Or was it worse than that?

Was he disappointed in you?

You stared down at your hands and tried to keep your breathing steady. The rest of the team was scattered across the jet – quiet, tired, and probably chalking the silence up to post-mission fatigue.

But for you, the worst part wasn’t what had happened out there.

It was what wasn’t happening now.

--

The jet touched down on the compound’s landing pad with a low hum, the bay doors opening to the muted light of early evening.

Everyone stood slowly, unbuckling and gathering their things with the quiet exhaustion that always came after a mission. Bucky didn’t say a word – just grabbed his gear, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed down the ramp without even glancing your way.

You watched him go, lips parted like maybe you were about to call after him…but nothing came out.

Your fingers curled around the strap of your own bag, and you stood, following behind the others. You spotted him near the elevator across the hangar, but just as you were about to pick up your pace, Steve’s voice called out behind you.

“Hey,” he said, walking toward you. His expression was calm, but firm. “Good work today.”

You nodded, trying to look like that meant something – trying not to let your disappointment show. “Thanks.”

“But,” he added, crossing his arms lightly, “next time you get that gut feeling, call it in first. I don’t doubt your instincts – they were right – but you’ve got backup for a reason.”

Your throat felt tight, but you nodded again. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad,” Steve said, offering a faint smile. “You handled yourself better than most rookies would’ve. Just don’t take that kind of risk alone again, alright?”

“Alright,” you murmured, managing a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

He gave you a final nod, then turned to head toward the control room.

You stood there for another second, feeling the weight of the conversation settle right next to the ache that was already blooming in your chest.

You made your way to the elevator alone, stepping inside and staring at the panel in front of you, heart pounding as if it didn’t quite know what to feel.

Once the doors opened, you walked straight to your room, dropped your bag beside your dresser, and headed to the shower. The warm water helped ease the tension in your shoulders, but it didn’t do much for the rest of you.

When you finally stepped out, you dried off and pulled on a pair of soft shorts and one of Bucky’s hoodies. It smelled like him – faint cologne and something familiar – and it made your chest squeeze all over again.

You padded quietly across the room, hair damp and skin still flushed from the shower, and sat on the edge of your bed.

The silence was deafening.

And you still had no idea if Bucky was going to come find you…or not at all.

You sat on the edge of your bed for what felt like forever, chewing at your lip, debating. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, you pushed yourself up and made your way to Bucky’s room.

You paused outside his door, swallowing hard. Then you lifted your hand and knocked.

It was a few seconds before the door opened, revealing Bucky. He looked at you with an unreadable expression, his face guarded, his eyes tired.

“Hey,” he said flatly, voice low and neutral.

Then he turned around without waiting for you to respond, heading back toward his duffel bag on the bed. He started unpacking his gear like you weren’t even there.

You stepped inside hesitantly, closing the door behind you. The click echoed in the quiet room.

You stood there, awkward and unsure, watching him move stiffly. The silence stretched on until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s wrong, Buck?” you finally asked, voice softer than you intended.

He didn’t look at you as he shoved his boots back in the closet. “You know what’s wrong.”

Your jaw clenched. “No, actually, I don’t.”

He finally turned to face you, eyes sharp now, frustration breaking through. “You split off from the group. You ignored the plan. You could’ve been killed.”

You blinked, taken aback by the harshness in his tone. “I had a feeling something was off, Bucky. I trusted my gut, and I was right. I handled it.”

“That’s not the point!” His voice rose, cutting through the air between you. “You weren’t supposed to handle it alone! You’re not on your own out there anymore – you have a team. You had me.”

You crossed your arms defensively, heart pounding now for a different reason. “I know I have a team, but I didn’t have time to wait around for everyone to agree. I did what I had to do.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “And what if you hadn’t handled it? What if you got hurt before we even knew where you were?”

“But I didn’t,” you shot back, the tension snapping between you both like a rubber band pulled too tight. “I took them out, I called it in. You don’t trust me to handle myself?”

“It’s not about trust,” he growled, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. “It’s about being part of a team, and yeah – it’s about me not wanting to watch you get yourself killed because you couldn’t wait five damn seconds for backup.”

Your chest rose and fell, your breath shaky as anger and something more vulnerable tangled inside you. “I’m not some fragile rookie, Bucky. I know what I’m doing. You don’t get to treat me like–”

“Like I care about you?” he snapped. “Sorry, that’s not something I can turn off.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to just stand behind you and let you do everything!”

“Yeah, well, you can’t just split off every time you think you feel something either!”

The words hung there, heavy, bitter.

You stared at him, heart aching, hands shaking at your sides. “But I was right,” you said, anger and hurt mixing in your voice. “I can’t stand there and ignore it just because you’re scared something might happen to me. That’s not how this works.”

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel, yanking open the door and storming out.

You didn’t look back.

--

Part 17 | Masterlist

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[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain, mention of Sirus' family but no talk of abuse, some talk of traumatic injury

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Sirius hates the cold. It makes him look ill, his nose always runs, and he does not have a head made for hats. 

The walk to the rink yesterday was bad, with the chill and the early hour and the dark mood that seemed to permeate him like it infused his very blood, but you made it better by being yourself. He suspects you might have even been going out of your way to be sweeter than usual, given that you knew it was the anniversary of the day Sirius ran away from his family’s home. You’d tried to cheer him up. Still, yesterday was bad.

Today is worse. 

You’re silent as you stalk down the sidewalk, one boy on either side of you. You said hello to both him and Remus as you stepped out the door of your apartment, and then that was it. If it were Sirius it might make sense, but you always have an unnatural amount of energy in the mornings. Obviously you’re not speaking to him. And Sirius is still upset about the addition of the death spiral to your routine, so he’s not speaking to Remus. And Remus is hardly one to spark up conversation during an uncomfortable silence, so that just makes the three of you a very sullen, very silent procession to your early fucking morning practice. 

Except when you arrive, the rink is already bustling. You take one step inside before going back out the door, forcing both boys back outside with you.

“What the fuck?” Remus tries to peer inside. For once, Sirius agrees with him. “Who’s taken our slot?”

“I don’t know,” you say, but you’re still standing in front of the door like you’re barring their entry. “I’m going to go find out. You guys stay here.” 

“Why?” Sirius asks.

Even when you look at him you’re not really looking at him, your eyes distant. If you’re trying to make him feel like shit, it’s working. “Because I don’t need either of you going in there to bite someone’s head off. I’ve got it.” 

With that, you slip inside, not giving either of them a chance to argue. Sirius supposes he could go after you anyway, but you seem like you’d bite his head off, and he’s hurting enough from the cold without that extra ailment to contend with. He pulls out a cigarette instead. 

“You really shouldn’t do that,” Remus hums, but when Sirius looks over the other boy is lighting up too, a cig dangling from the corner of his mouth. When he sees Sirius struggling with his lighter, his fingers frozen and clumsy, he rolls his eyes and steps closer. 

Sirius goes still as Remus cups a hand around his cigarette, lithe fingers an inch from his mouth. The lighter rasps once, and the warmth next to Sirius’ face is a welcome sensation. When Remus steps away Sirius straightens his shoulders, expression carefully impassive as he inhales. He doesn’t thank him. 

“She’ll have your ass for doing it, too,” he says. 

Remus lifts a brow, blowing smoke out one corner of his mouth. “Why? I don’t need my lungs for anything.” 

Sirius shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. She thinks she should be in charge of the whole world.” 

A soft chuckle. Remus looks out to where the sun will rise in a few hours, the sky still a sweet blue. “Maybe she should be.” 

Sirius can’t help a little smile at that. He takes comfort only in knowing Remus doesn’t see. “Don’t let her hear you say that.” 

They lapse into a brief silence, easier and more contented than Sirius would have thought possible between the two of them. It breaks only when you come bustling back out the doors. 

“Okay, so apparently—” You stop, looking between them both. “Guys. Seriously?” 

“What?” Remus asks, but Sirius knows better, dropping his cigarette and stamping it out. 

Your gaze flicks over him, almost approving but still a far cry from friendly. He swears your mouth wants to smile at him, only you’re not letting it. 

“Those are so bad for you,” you tell Remus. 

He levels you with a dry look, the brave bastard. “What does it matter? I’m not an athlete.” 

You wince but don’t back down. “Athletes aren’t the only ones with reason to live past fifty.” You give him a hard look. It takes a while, but eventually Remus relents, dropping his cigarette as Sirius had. You nod, crouching to pick up both dog-ends and taking them to a bin. “Each one shortens your life by eleven minutes, you know.” 

Remus meets Sirius’ eyes, incredulous. “She comes prepared with statistics?” he asks in a hushed voice. 

Sirius nods. “Told you so.” 

You brush your hands off on your pants. “Okay. Anyway, hockey practice got moved up.” 

“You’re joking,” says Remus. 

“Nope. And, someone else got wind of it before us, because the slot they had at nine has already been filled. We can’t practice today.” 

Sirius shakes his head. “Bullshit. Why did hockey get moved?” 

You shrug, hugging your middle so your hands can burrow under your arms for warmth. “Management said they didn’t know, only that someone on the team asked for a different slot just for today. Seems like they were sweet-talked into it.” 

Your eyes meet Sirius’ for half a second, and he takes out his phone, frigid thumbs anger-typing away. 

“So that’s it then?” Remus asks. He looks like he’d really like his cigarette back. “We’ve just woken up before dawn and we’re not going to practice?” 

You sigh. “Seems that way. We can come back during open skate, but you know how that is.” 

Sirius scowls, and Remus’ expression twinges with distaste. “Yeah,” says Remus, “let’s wait until tomorrow.” 

You all break where you usually do, though hours ahead of schedule, Remus going off towards his place and Sirius walking you in the direction of yours. 

“Fancy a coffee?” he asks you, voice intentionally light. 

It has the expected effect. You bristle at his easy tone, keeping your eyes ahead. “No, thanks.” 

“Fair enough.” Sirius would really like something to warm his hands, but he suspects he needs to pick his battles with you today. “Fancy telling me when we’re going to be friends again?” 

You blow out a harsh breath. It crystalizes in front of you, and you walk right through. “Don’t be daft. We’re always friends. It’s because I’m your friend that I’m so pissed off with you.” 

He nods slowly. “I don’t follow.” 

You shake your head, anger quickening your pace so that Sirius is nearly jogging to keep up with you. “Why can’t you ever stay out of your own way?” you ask him. “I know yesterday was hard for you, but you can’t be an asshole to everyone just because you’re having a bad day.” 

“Hey now, that’s not fair.” Sirius knows joking probably isn’t the best tactic with you right now, but he can’t help himself. “I wasn’t an asshole to you, was I?” 

“That’s what I mean!” You stop so hard he nearly plows into you, but you don’t so much as flinch at the possibility. Your stare is fierce. “You can’t keep trying to scare him off. It’s not going to work, and we need him. Can’t you see how much better he’s made us already? I know you didn’t want a coach, but Remus is good for us. So you can stop being so difficult.” 

“I am not being difficult,” says Sirius, though he often is. You stick your tongue in your cheek, annoyed, and he fights the urge to take your face in his hands. He hates having you cross with him, but at least you’re talking. “And you don’t know what we would be like if he weren’t here. We might’ve been fine.” 

You sigh, looking suddenly tired. And so, so disappointed. “That’s not the point anyways. You know what you said to him yesterday was wrong.” 

Sirius feels a dull stab in his gut. He knows. He does. He knew it the second it came flying out of his mouth, and he has no idea why Remus doesn’t seem as livid with him as you are. Remus, with his even voice and his exasperated, knowing looks and that stern little wrinkle between his brows, who seems able to wind Sirius up better than anyone else. A match to his short fuse. 

“How would you feel?” you ask. Some of the anger has fallen away from your voice, leaving it soft and sad. “What if we went to competition in a few weeks, and you injured yourself so that you knew you could never skate again. And then someone used it to mock you.” 

“He’s risking us doing that,” Sirius says, stubbornly, though he can hear the plea in his own voice, “by asking us to change the routine.” 

“He’s trying to help us,” you reply firmly. But your shoulders droop, and you sigh. “I know you feel bad about it. I’m done being mad at you now. It’s exhausting.” 

Sirius feels too hollowed out to revel much in the victory, but your arm linking through his does help some. “Some could say that was my plan all along,” he jokes weakly. 

You make a halfhearted attempt at a chuckle. “Good thing I know better. If your hands are in danger of falling off, you could stop at mine, make yourself a coffee.” 

“When I asked you for coffee five minutes ago you said no.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t done punishing you yet.” 

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy

a yandere art professor Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU...

CHAPTER MAP-> part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13 part 14 part 15 part 16

I.

-You’re a favorite amongst the studio art students at the university where you model. Not because of your looks, but because of your exceptional ability at sitting still. When you retreat inside your mind and you’re sitting in a position that doesn’t have any pinch points, you can go a solid hour without moving a muscle. 

-Maybe it helps, that you were once an art student too. You’ve studied the classical positions immortalized by the greats. The drama of the Renaissance martyrs to the quiet repose of the Impressionists to the silent anguish of the Pre Raphaelites. You do a damn good Odalisque, if you don’t say so yourself.

-You’ve been doing this for a while, and you’re pretty comfortable with it. That is, until you walk into the first day of Figure Drawing 101 to find the most handsome man you’ve ever seen behind the desk–decidedly not the usual portly, gray-haired, female professor who hired you years ago. He is tall, and dark, with soulful black eyes that make your lady parts ache. It’s incredibly embarrassing when your mitt veritably disappears in his in a cordial handshake (good lord, what poetic, long-fingered hands!) and you almost forget your own name. 

-He is incredibly gracious about your impression of a goldfish at feeding time. Undoubtedly, he’s used to this effect he has on women. Deep down, he must be laughing at you, and this more than anything helps you get a grip as you disappear into your little supply closet to change. 

-You emerge in your pretty paisley-print robe that sweeps the floor, and you realize you haven’t been nervous about taking off your clothes in class since your very first day on this job. Your palms are actually sweating, as you perch on the model stand with your legs crossed, watching him out the corner of your eye. He is stupidly dapper, in a dark tweed suit and tie. His hair swings down into his eyes as he reads something on his desk, and you’re not proud of what you would give for the privilege to run your fingers through that fluffy dark hair. 

-Thoroughly disgusted with yourself, you’re grateful when it’s time for class to begin. You’re surrounded by young adults who are [mostly] eager to learn with charcoal in hand. All eyes are on you, but its Professor Wick’s eyes you feel like a weight on your skin when the robe slides from your shoulders. You are so glad you can blame the air conditioning for your state of…attention. 

-You start with quick warm ups, then some five minute studies, and finally an extended pose with small breaks in between. When the kids take a break in the middle of the three hour period you slide back on your robe and make a round of the room, perusing the sketches. You can already tell who will be at the top of the class, but also who has potential for improvement if they work hard and practice. And some…better be good at math, because art is not their thing.

You do not hear him behind you, until he speaks. “I'm not sure how your clavicle could be at that angle…unless it was broken in two places.” You cover your smile with your hand as you glance back over your shoulder at him, a hot blush spreading like wildfire up your neck for some ridiculous reason. 

Mere proximity, you fear.

“Maybe their professor will set them straight.”

He chuckles with a charming self-deprecation that you find painfully endearing, scrubbing the back of his neck. 

“I like to see where everyone stands on the first day. I promise that lessons in anatomy will be forthcoming.” He only meets your eyes for a bare second as he tells you this, but you are astonished you do not spontaneously combust.

TBC...

___

pinterest board/photo credits

[darkintothedawn]

THE BOYFRIEND CODE

Memo — Part of 'The Boyfriend Code' series. These are the rules themselves. I also don't know why I wrote every fourth rule to be weirdly long in comparison to the others. Masterlist | Stiles' Adventures

(A guide to maintaining a happy and thriving relationship with one Stiles Stilinski.)

As drafted by Stiles Stilinski

(To be signed in blood. Or, you know, ink. Whatever’s available.)

1. Thou shalt not steal the last curly fry without proper negotiations.

2. Thou shalt always laugh at thy boyfriend’s jokes, even if they are terrible (which they are not).

3. Thou shalt never, under any circumstances, team up with Scott against thy boyfriend in any and all debates, disputes, or Nerf wars.

4. Thou shalt not hold thy boyfriend’s hand just to warm up thy own freezing fingers and then let go once they’re toasty. My hands are not a temporary rental service—they require long-term commitment. Hand-holding is a big deal, okay? It’s a sacred act of love, comfort, and subtle flexing. If thou initiates contact, thou must maintain it for an appropriate amount of time (i.e., until I say so). If thou dares to pull away too soon, be warned: I will be needy about it. I will pout. I will stare at thy hand longingly. I will dramatically sigh until my hand is reclaimed. I don’t want to beg, but make no mistake—I absolutely will.

5. Thou shalt not threaten to replace thy boyfriend with Derek Hale, Chris Evans, or any fictional hottie with a tragic backstory.

6. Thou shalt not wake thy boyfriend up at ungodly hours unless there is (a) a fire, (b) a werewolf attack, (c) pancakes, or (d) an ungodly amount of love and affection.

7. Thou shalt always check behind thee in horror movie situations because thy boyfriend will absolutely be too scared to.

8. Thou shalt not initiate tickle fights unless fully prepared for the consequences. (The consequences include, but are not limited to: uncontrollable giggling, immediate retaliation, loss of breath from excessive laughter, potential betrayal by nearby allies, an all-out war that lasts for days, and, most importantly, the risk of thy boyfriend holding a lifelong grudge and striking when thou least expects it. You have been warned.)

9. Thou shalt not let Lydia convince thee that thy boyfriend is not cool. Thy boyfriend is cool. Very cool. The coolest. Tell Lydia.

10. Thou shalt always pretend to be impressed when thy boyfriend does a Cool Car Slide™ over the hood of the Jeep, even if he falls. Especially if he falls.

11. Thou shalt not judge thy boyfriend for excessive hand gestures during storytelling.

12. Thou shalt not change the music in the Jeep without a full democratic vote, which requires at least a two-thirds majority and an impassioned speech justifying the change. Veto power is reserved exclusively for thy boyfriend, as the rightful ruler of the aux cord. Exceptions may be granted in cases of extreme emergency, such as a truly terrible song choice (unlikely), spontaneous karaoke needs, or the requirement of a dramatic soundtrack for an impending battle, chase scene, or epic road trip montage. Abuse of this privilege may result in a permanent aux ban. (Also, if the Jeep breaks down, it is not because thy boyfriend’s music taste is cursed. We do not entertain such slander.)

13. Thou shalt not put socks on thy boyfriend while he is sleeping just to mess with him. (Seriously, why would you do this? Are you a monster?)

14. Thou shalt not let Coach Finstock know that thy boyfriend has, in fact, finished his economics homework. He thrives on the chaos.

15. Thou shalt not insult Star Wars in any way, shape, or form. Ever. No exceptions. (Even about the prequels. We do not speak of the prequels.)

16. Thou shalt always respond to thy boyfriend’s "I love you" with "I love you more," or at least pretend to fight about it. Because love is a competition, and thy boyfriend refuses to lose. Bonus points for dramatic declarations, exaggerated swooning, and impromptu Shakespearean monologues. Failure to engage in this battle of affection shall result in excessive, possibly puppy-eyed pouting until the matter is properly resolved.

17. Thou shalt not hide sticky notes with increasingly unsettling messages around thy boyfriend’s room just to see how long it takes him to find them. (I will NOT be gaslit in my own home.)

18. Thou shalt not give Scott better cuddles than thy boyfriend. (I see you. I know what you’re doing.)

19. Thou shalt prevent thy boyfriend from naming any future pets after fictional detectives, no matter how endearing his arguments may be. (We are NOT adopting a dog names "Spooky Mulder.")

20. Thou shalt not eat the last Pop-Tart and then blame the supernatural—especially not ghosts, banshees, or mischievous forest spirits. (They have better things to do than steal my breakfast.) If thou art the culprit, thou must accept the consequences, which may include but are not limited to: dramatic sighs, betrayed expressions, and a well-documented grudge lasting no less than 48 hours. Restocking the Pop-Tart supply immediately may lessen thy sentence.

21. Thou shalt not record thy boyfriend’s sleep talk and use it as blackmail. (Even if it’s hilarious. And yes, I am Batman in my dreams.)

22. Thou shalt not use thy boyfriend as a human shield during werewolf-related incidents. (It is rude and it hurts me physically even if I do appreciate you wanting me to protect you.)

23. Thou shalt not tickle thy boyfriend while he is driving. (Unless thou hast a death wish.)

24. Thou shalt not challenge thy boyfriend to a duel with pool noodles unless thou art truly prepared to suffer the consequences. A challenge once issued cannot be taken back. There will be no mercy. There will be no surrender. There will only be the sound of plastic striking plastic, the cries of the fallen, and the inevitable betrayal when one of us decides to wield two noodles at once. Victory is never guaranteed, but humiliation is. And should thou lose, thou must accept thy fate with dignity—or prepare for a rematch at dawn.

25. Thou shalt always accept spontaneous dance breaks in the kitchen. No exceptions.

26. Thou shalt not bribe thy boyfriend’s dad with baked goods to get classified FBI-level intel on thy boyfriend’s embarrassing childhood stories. (I know he caves for cookies. This is betrayal.)

27. Thou shalt not, under any circumstances, allow thy boyfriend near a Ouija board. (We do not need to summon ghosts. Again.)

28. Thou shalt always remember that thy boyfriend is the funniest, smartest, most charming, and overall most lovable human being in the universe. This remains true even when:

I'm ranting about a conspiracy theory at 2 AM with a suspicious amount of red string.

I'm attempting to parkour off the Jeep and failing spectacularly.

I'm using sarcasm as a defence mechanism instead of admitting I have emotions.

I'm dramatically narrating my own life like I'm in a noir film.

I'm absolutely convinced that I could take a werewolf in a fight “if given the proper motivation.”

I'm getting side-tracked in the middle of an argument because I thought of a joke and simply must share it.

I'm clinging to thee like a koala after a scary movie but still pretending I’m totally fine.

I'm being an absolute menace in every way, shape, and form—but, let’s be honest, that’s part of my charm.

In conclusion: I am a menace, but I am thy menace. Act accordingly.

[briefinquiries]

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 14

Tommy Shelby x Reader: Chapter 14

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: As Campbell continues his torment, time is running out and Tommy is left grasping for answers. Just as his fury reaches a breaking point, an unexpected visitor arrives with some information.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language, mention of torture and vague, nonconsensual sexualization.

A/N: I didn't imagine I'd be 14 chapters in... yet, here we are. I feel like I could write this forever, but I'm thinking maybe 4-5 more chapters? Idk?? Anyway, thank you all so much for continuing to read, thoughts, comments, and whatever else is always appreciated :)

--

The air in the office was thick with cigarette smoke, frustration, and the weight of time slipping through their fingers.

Tommy stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, jaw locked so tight it ached. Across from him, Arthur leaned against the desk, tapping his knuckles against the wood, restless. John sat in the chair, his knee bouncing, the urge to do something burning through him. And Polly– Polly was standing by the window, arms folded, her face unreadable, but her silence was its own kind of pressure.

Two days.

Two fucking days since Campbell took you.

Forty-eight hours of searching, questioning, threatening– getting nowhere.

The only sound was the low hum of tension until the door creaked open, and Johnny Dogs stepped inside.

“I got somethin’,” he announced, shaking off his coat, water dripping from the ends of it. The rain outside had picked up, turning the streets into a slick, black river.

Tommy’s head snapped up. “Go on.”

Johnny took a moment, rolling his shoulders like he was getting comfortable before he spoke. “That lead from Patrick Jarvis? Someone else confirmed it.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Word’s spreadin’ round the right circles. Campbell’s got a place somewhere near the old factories. A few men have seen movement– coppers that don’t look like coppers, comin’ and goin’ from one of the buildings late at night.”

Arthur pushed off the desk, his body already itching to move. “That’s it, then. We go.”

Johnny shook his head. “Not yet. We don’t know exactly which place it is. There’s a few in that area, and if we charge into the wrong one, we’ll lose our shot.” He exhaled sharply, glancing at Tommy. “But we’re close. Tommy. Real close.”

A fresh wave of tension rolled through the room.

Tommy inhaled slowly, pressing his fingers against his temple. Not close enough.

John ran a hand over his face. “We don’t have fucking time, Tom.”

“I know,” Tommy snapped, the frustration bleeding into his voice before he could stop it. 

Polly, still by the window, sighed through her nose, measured and calm in a way that only made Tommy’s skin crawl. “Then use your fucking head,” she said sharply. “Charging in blind is exactly what Campbell wants.”

Arthur scoffed. “We’re supposed to just sit here, then? Have a drink while we wait for the bastard to put a bullet in her head?”

Polly’s eyes flicked toward him, sharp as a blade. “If Campbell wanted her dead, she’d already be dead.”

Arthur clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. “So what, Pol? We just hope for the best?”

John, still fidgeting, exhaled sharply. “We’ll keep eyes on it, Tommy.”

Tommy stayed silent, his fingers twitching near the desk, eyes unfocused as he thought.

Polly’s gaze didn’t waver. “If he finds out we’re close, Campbell will move her.”

A muscle in Tommy’s jaw ticked.

Arthur swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “So what the fuck are we supposed to do, then?”

Tommy lifted his cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. Thinking. Calculating.

Then, suddenly, the phone rang.

The shrill sound cut through the silence like a blade.

Everyone froze.

Tommy’s stomach turned.

He already knew who it was.

Polly’s gaze snapped to him, her expression sharp. “Don’t answer it.”

Tommy ignored her.

He strode toward the desk, snatched up the receiver, and pressed it to his ear.

A pause.

Then, “Ah,” came the smooth, smug voice on the other end. “Mr. Shelby.”

Campbell. Tommy’s fingers tightened around the receiver, knuckles white. For a second, he didn’t speak, his breath slow, controlled. Waiting.

Then, Campbell chuckled. “Not even a hello? Where are your manners?”

Tommy’s voice was low, lethal. “Say what you’re going to say.”

Campbell hummed, as if enjoying himself. “You know, I wasn’t sure how long she’d last.”

The words curled in Tommy’s gut like a slow-burning flame, spreading, filling his lungs with heat and rage.

Campbell sighed, almost amused. “But I have to say, she’s tougher than I expected. Even when she cried for you.”

Tommy stilled.

Campbell hummed. “Not out loud, of course. Not at first. But oh, Thomas–” He chuckled. “There’s something about breaking someone piece by piece, isn’t there? The way they try so hard to be brave. The way they tell themselves someone’s coming to save them, when you know it’s not true.”

Something inside Tommy snapped.

His grip on the phone turned iron-tight, his entire body rigid as a sickening, seething kind of rage spread through his veins.

Campbell was bragging.

Fucking bragging.

“She’s bruised. Bleeding, too, of course,” Campbell continued, tone light, as if discussing the weather. “And her breathing, well, it’s a little uneven– probably from the broken ribs. But she’s holding on. For now.”

Tommy inhaled slowly, deeply, forcing the fire down.

Campbell continued deliberately. “She doesn’t say much anymore. Can barely hold her head up. Though,” he clicked his tongue. “I must admit, I expected more screaming.” A beat. “Maybe I’ll just have to push harder.”

Tommy finally spoke. His voice was cold. Deadly. “I greatly look forward to the moment I put a bullet in your fucking skull,” he murmured. 

Campbell laughed.

“Oh, Thomas,” he sighed. “How I enjoy our chats.”

Then, the line went dead.

Tommy slammed the receiver down so hard the desk rattled. His breath came sharp, his rage barely contained, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “We have to fucking go–”

John pushed off the wall. “Right fucking now, Tommy.”

Polly’s voice was steady, cutting through the heat. “Go where? We still don’t know where she is!”

Tommy was breathing hard, his mind working through the haze of anger, past the urge to grab a gun and just start burning through the city until he found you.

Arthur stopped pacing, turning back toward Tommy. “Then we find out– now. He’s gonna fuckin’ kill her, Tom.” His voice was sharp, barely contained, a mirror of Tommy’s own fury.

John crossed his arms, jaw clenched. “We get more men out there, we’ve got a fucking lead. We can’t sit on this.”

Tommy’s fingers twitched at his sides, jaw locked tight. He wanted to move. Wanted to run, burn through every fucking building in Birmingham until he found you.

But Polly was right. If he went in blind, he’d be doing exactly what Campbell wanted.

“Campbell wants me to suffer,” Tommy reminded them. “He’s not going to kill her yet. Because then his fun would be over.”

The words tasted like poison in his mouth, but he forced them out, forced himself to stay level.

Arthur muttered a curse under his breath, fists clenching at his sides. “So what? We just sit around here, waiting til Campbell decides to grow a fuckin’ heart and let her go?”

Tommy exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “No.” His gaze snapped to Johnny Dogs. “I want more men on the ground. Quietly.”

Johnny’s brows furrowed, but he nodded. “How many?”

Tommy thought fast. “Enough to cover every road leading out of the quarter. If Campbell gets even the slightest sense we’re coming, he’ll move her. And if that happens, we won’t get another fucking chance.” His eyes darkened. “Make sure no one’s seen. We go in clean.”

Johnny held his gaze for a moment, then gave a firm nod. “I’ll make it happen.” 

Arthur cracked his knuckles. “So, we gonna rock-paper-scissors for who gets to kill the fucker?”

“No.” Tommy’s voice was quieter now, but deadly. He turned to Johnny. “If they see anything– anything– they do not engage. They don’t move. They report back to me. This fucker is mine. Understood?”

Johnny’s expression tightened. “Yeah, I got it.”

With that, he slipped out the door, disappearing into the night.

…

Pain blurred the edges of everything.

Your body felt like one solid ache, a deep, pulsing agony that ran beneath your skin, through your ribs, down to the very marrow of your bones. Your wrists burned where the cuffs bit into your skin, your head heavy, every breath shallow and sharp.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed– hours, days? It didn’t matter.

You barely registered the sound of the door creaking open. You didn’t register the heavy footsteps crossing the room. 

But the sharp, stinging slap across your cheek tore you from the haze.

Your head snapped to the side, white-hot pain exploding across your face. A strangled gasp ripped from your throat, your vision blurring before swimming back into focus.

Campbell’s smug, self-satisfied face loomed in front of you.

“There she is,” he mused, mocking delight dripping from his voice. “Thought I’d lost you there for a moment.”

You swallowed thickly, your lip splitting further from the impact, fresh blood warm against your tongue. You refused to give him a reaction.

Campbell sighed, pacing a slow circle around the chair. “I thought you’d want to know… I’ve just had a lovely chat with your little boyfriend.”

Your fingers twitched.

He grinned at your silence. “It’s such a shame,” he mused. “He really didn’t seem all that concerned with your whereabouts.”

The words slithered into your skull, venomous and deliberate.

“He didn’t bargain,” Campbell continued, voice light, casual, as if sharing idle gossip. “Didn’t try to make a deal with me.” He let out a soft chuckle. “No concern. No desperation.” He tilted his head. 

A sharp pulse of nausea rolled through your gut. 

Campbell crouched in front of you, dropping to your eye level, watching. Your hands curled into fists, fingernails biting into your palms.

“Uh oh,” Campbell’s brows lifted, his smirk deepening. “Did I strike a nerve?”

You kept your breathing steady, forcing your expression blank.

Campbell clicked his tongue. “He’s spent his whole life crawling out of the mud, stepping over anyone in his way. And you?” He exhaled, his breath warm against your bloodied skin. “You’re just another casualty.”

Your stomach twisted. Because you knew what Campbell was doing. He was planting doubt. He wanted you to feel alone. 

Isolated.

Forgotten.

He wanted you to break.

Your breath came slow and steady, even as your ribs screamed in protest.

Suddenly, Campbell reached out, his fingers ghosted over your cheek, tracing the raw, swollen skin where he’d struck you moments before.

A sickening wave of revulsion crawled up your spine, but you stayed still. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

His touch was light, deliberate, mocking– like he was savoring the moment, like he was testing just how much he could make your skin crawl before you broke. His thumb dragged across your cheekbone, slow and uninvited, his breath too close, too warm, too fucking smug as he leaned in, voice low and cruel. 

“Tell me, darling,” he murmured. “When he’s standing over your grave, how long do you think he’ll grieve before moving on?” 

The words slid beneath your skin like a blade, cold and cruel. You had sworn that you wouldn’t let him get to you. But you were exhausted. In pain. Alone. And despite every effort to hold it back, a single tear slipped down your cheek.

Campbell saw it immediately. His lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile, his thumb swiping across your cheek to catch the tear, as if savoring it. 

“You poor thing,” he murmured, like a man offering pity rather than punishment. 

His thumb trailed lower, lingering at the corner of your mouth, where blood had dried, cracked, and split again from his slap. “Perhaps he’ll send a man to lay flowers,” Campbell mused, his voice coated in false sympathy. “Or perhaps, by then, he’ll have found someone new to warm his bed.”

You clenched your jaw, hating yourself for the crack in your composure, hating that he’d seen it– that he was winning.

Campbell sighed dramatically, pulling back just enough to tilt his head, examining you like a man admiring his handiwork.

You swallowed, forcing down the lump in your throat, blinking rapidly to keep any more tears from falling.

But Campbell just smirked. “I must admit,” he mused, stepping back slightly, just enough to give you space to breathe– but not enough to let you feel safe. “I expected more fight.”

His gaze flickered over you, slow and deliberate. “But here you are, crying already. Over Thomas Shelby, nonetheless.”

Campbell watched you, his smirk widening, as if he were enjoying this– watching you swallow back the anger, the revulsion, the fear. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hand again.

You braced yourself, but he didn’t strike.

Instead, his fingers brushed softly against your cheek a second time, barely a whisper of contact, the touch mockingly gentle.

Your stomach twisted.

“You always were such a pretty little thing,” he mused, almost to himself. 

His fingers trailed lower, down the curve of your jaw, his nails grazing your skin.

Don’t react. Don’t flinch.

But your body betrayed you– your breath hitched, your shoulders tensing just slightly.

Campbell noticed again. His smirk deepened, his fingers dragging lower, down the column of your throat. A slow, lazy path. Like he had all the time in the world. You forced yourself to stay still, forced yourself to breathe evenly, even as every inch of your skin screamed to shrink away from his touch.

Campbell hummed, tilting his head as if he were studying you, testing, seeing how far he could push before you broke.

His fingers dipped just below your collarbone.

Your chest tightened.

You focused on keeping still, not giving him what he wanted, but the nausea clawing up your throat made it harder with every passing second.

You could feel his gaze on you, watching, waiting for you to crack– for you to shrink away.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Uncomfortable, are we?”

You forced your expression to stay blank, biting down on your tongue so hard you tasted blood.

Your skin burned where his touch had been, not from pain, but from the sickening weight of it. 

“I have to say I thought about it," he continued, drawing out the words slowly, as if savoring them. "I thought about how it might be, if I took you for myself back then. Before I knew Thomas Shelby had ruined you.”

A wave of nausea rolled through you so violently you almost gagged.

He smiled like he had already won. “Pity,” he murmured, “wasting all that loyalty on someone who’ll never return it.”

Campbell let the silence stretch between you, his smirk widening as if he could feel the unease settling into your bones.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he eventually continued, adjusting his coat as if nothing had happened. “By the time Tommy finds you, if he even bothers to look, there won’t be much left worth saving.”

He gave you one last, lingering look, and then, finally, turned toward the door.

“Get some rest, darling,” he called over his shoulder. “You’ll need it.”

Then the door clicked shut behind him.

The moment his presence was gone, the weight of everything crashed into you all at once.

Your body trembled. Your chest caved.

And before you could stop it, before you could swallow it down and force yourself to be strong, a ragged, broken sob tore free from your throat.

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

Your ribs, your face, your wrists, your lungs, every part of you ached, burned, screamed. But it wasn’t just the pain. It was everything else– the violation. The helplessness. The way Campbell had touched you like you were his to break, his to ruin, like you were nothing more than a pawn in his sick little game.

You gasped out another sob, sharp and ugly, your whole body curling in on itself as much as the cuffs would allow.

Tears streamed down your face, hot and relentless, soaking the raw, stinging skin where he had struck you.

No matter how hard you tried, the sobs kept coming, wrecking you, tearing through your chest like a wound that refused to close.

For the first time since he had taken you, the sheer weight of it all settled like iron chains around your throat.

What if Campbell was telling the truth? What if Tommy wasn’t looking for you? What if you never left this fucking room? 

The thoughts came like a flood, drowning you, pulling you under. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to shut them out, trying to force them away. But it wasn’t working. Your breath came in sharp, shaking gasps, your ribs burning with the effort.

You bit down hard on your lip, trying to silence yourself, trying to hold yourself together, but the sobs kept ripping through you. The room felt smaller now, the walls pressing in, the darkness closing around you.

You had never felt so alone.

…

The office was silent, but inside Tommy’s head, it was fucking chaos.

He stood behind his desk, hands braced against the wood, his head hanging low. His fingers dug into the edge, as if that could somehow crush the thoughts in his own head before they consumed him completely.

He exhaled slowly, shaking.

This was his fault.

Every part of this was his fucking fault.

He should have kept you out of it– should have never offered you a job at the Garrison. He should have never let you get this deep in his world– should have sent you far away from Birmingham the second he realized Campbell had set his sights on you.

Instead, he’d let himself believe, for just a moment, that he could have something. That you could be safe. That he could protect you.

And now…

Now you were alone with that fucking bastard, enduring God only knows what. 

Tommy growled under his breath, fingers tightening. The pressure in his chest was unbearable, a weight so suffocating it felt like it might crack his ribs open from the inside.

His foot nudged the waste basket in front of his desk, and before he could stop himself, he kicked it.

Hard.

The bin went flying across the room, its contents scattering across the floor before toppling over, crashing against the side of the wall.

The sound barely registered.

He was already pacing.

His pulse thundered in his ears, his movements sharp, restless, fucking useless.

He should be out there, hunting Campbell down, burning his entire fucking operation to the ground, tearing apart every building in the city until he found you.

But instead, he was here.

Waiting. Thinking. Doing absolutely fucking nothing. 

And he hated it.

Tommy ran a hand down his face, his breath coming sharp, uneven. He stopped pacing long enough to brace his hands against the desk again, his knuckles white from the force.

Campbell had called him for a reason.

To get inside his fucking head.

To make him feel helpless.

To remind him that no matter how many moves he made, no matter how careful he was, no matter how much control he thought he had– 

He could still lose.

Tommy’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.

Hours passed with no word. 

Tommy sat at his desk, head still in his hands, the weight of his own thoughts pressing harder than anything else. He had paced until his legs ached, smoked until the room was thick with it, but nothing, nothing, had dulled the relentless pressure in his ribs.

The sudden knock on the door was sharp, urgent.

Tommy’s head snapped up just as John pushed inside, still damp from the rain, his face set in something tense. Serious.

“Someone’s outside,” John said, voice clipped. “Says he wants to talk to you.”

Tommy sat back, rubbing his fingers over his jaw, his thoughts snapping into sharp focus. “Who?”

John shook his head. “No idea. Bloke spoke to me through the cracked window like he was a fuckin’ spy, I couldn’t see him. He wouldn’t say who he was.”

That made something in Tommy’s gut tighten.

“Could be a setup,” John muttered, watching Tommy carefully. 

Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. “Or it could be the fucking lead we need.”

John shifted on his feet, restless. “What d’you wanna do?”

Tommy stood, grabbing his coat. “Bring him in.”

John hesitated for half a second. “I tried that. Said he wants to speak outside. In private.”

That made Tommy pause.

His fingers twitched at his sides.

A meeting outside, in private– it didn’t sit right.

If this was a setup, if this was Campbell pulling the strings again, he wasn’t about to walk into it blindly.

John let out a slow breath. “You want me and Arthur to follow?”

Tommy thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No.” His voice was low, measured. “Stay inside. Keep your eyes on the place. If I don’t come back, you’ll know where to start looking.”

John let out a humorless chuckle. “Not funny, Tom.”

Tommy ignored him.

With one last glance between his brothers, he turned and strode toward the door.

The cold air hit him instantly, sharp and damp from the lingering rain. The black motor idled near the curb, its engine humming low beneath the drizzle.

Tommy didn’t hesitate.

He strode toward it, yanked open the back door, and slid inside.

The door shut with a heavy click.

Inside, the air was thick with tobacco smoke and the scent of damp wool.

Tommy didn’t look at the driver. Didn’t look at the man sitting beside him.

He already knew.

Moss.

The corrupt bastard was hunched slightly, his face barely illuminated by the dim glow of a streetlamp filtering through the window. His fingers tapped lightly against his knee, his cigarette smoldering between them.

Tommy leaned back, his voice flat, cold. “What do you know?”

Moss exhaled, the smoke curling from his lips. “I know where she is.”

Tommy stilled. The words hit like a hammer.

He forced his expression to remain blank. “Where.”

Moss chuckled under his breath. “You know better than that, Shelby.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched. “What do you want?”

“Two things.” Moss flicked his cigarette ash out the cracked window before turning to face Tommy properly. “Cash. And assurance.”

Tommy inhaled slowly through his nose. “Assurance for what?”

Moss gave him a look. “Campbell.”

Tommy didn’t blink.

Moss sighed. “He’s had me under his boot for months– made my life a livin’ hell. I want him gone. And if I tell you what I know, I want your word that you’ll make sure that happens.” 

Moss shifted in his seat, the dim glow of a street lamp flickering through the car window, highlighting the tired lines of his face. He tilted his head slightly. "He’s got it out for both of us." He let out a quiet chuckle. "But you always find a way to wriggle out, don’t you?"

Tommy finally spoke, his voice flat, unreadable. “So, let me get this straight.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearm against his knee. “You want me to put a bullet in him… so you can walk away clean.”

Moss shrugged again, but there was tension in it now. “Call it whatever you want.”

Tommy let the words settle, rolling them over in his mind.

The bastard was desperate. That much was obvious. But it wasn’t just about desperation– it was fear.

Moss knew Campbell was getting reckless. 

Tommy’s jaw flexed. “You think I need any motivation to kill the bastard?”

Moss smirked, just slightly. “No.” He inhaled slowly through his nose. “I just want to make sure you do it first.”

Tommy exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face before resting his forearm on his knee, his sharp gaze locked onto Moss. 

“How much?”

Moss tilted his head. “What?”

Tommy’s fingers twitched. “The fucking money. How much do you want?”

Moss hummed, pretending to think, but Tommy could see it– the greed flickering beneath the fear. He wasn’t just a desperate man trying to survive; he was a man trying to get whatever he could before running.

“Five thousand,” Moss said finally.

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head. “You must think I’m a fucking idiot.”

Moss’s smirk faltered slightly, but he held his ground. “It’s a fair price.”

Tommy’s eyes darkened. “Two.”

Moss let out a humorless chuckle. “You really think you’re in much of a position to be negotiating here? I’m not taking two, Shelby.”

Tommy hummed, dragging a cigarette from his coat pocket, rolling it between his fingers before striking a match. “What I think,” he muttered, lighting the end, letting the smoke curl slow through the cramped air, “is that you’re just another rat trying to climb out of a sinking ship.”

Moss exhaled sharply, shifting in his seat. “Three, then.”

Tommy took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke

A beat passed.

Then another.

Finally, he gave a sharp nod. “Three.”

Moss relaxed slightly, but only just.

Tommy tapped the ash off his cigarette, his eyes unreadable. “You’ll get your fucking money. Now tell me where she is.” 

Moss didn’t hesitate. He pulled a folded slip of paper from his coat pocket and handed it over.

“Basement of an old textile mill,” he muttered. “Near the canal. Off the books. No station. No records.”

Tommy took it, fingers tight around it.

Moss exhaled. “Better go quick, Shelby. I overheard Campbell talking today. I don’t think he’s been very kind to her, if you know what I mean.”

The air in the car shifted.

Tommy inhaled slowly through his nose, the only outward sign that he’d registered the words.

Inside, though, the fire was raging. He knew what Campbell was like. Knew how he worked. Every second he was here, every second he let this sniveling rat talk, was another second you were alone with that bastard.

Moss must have noticed the change in his expression because his amusement faltered.

Tommy leaned in, his voice quiet, lethal.

“If I find out you’ve fucked me on this, Moss,” he murmured, “I’ll carve out that smug fucking tongue and nail it to my desk. Do you understand?”

Moss swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

Tommy held his gaze a second longer, then pushed the car door open, stepping out into the cold. The rain hit his skin, slicing through his coat, but he barely felt it. His mind was already moving. Already calculating. 

He strode back toward the betting shop, his breath sharp, controlled.

For the first time in days, Tommy felt a semblance of peace. Because by the end of the night, Campbell wouldn’t live to see the fucking sunrise.

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[slightlysaltysometimes]

latest jay post got me thinking: i went on these one depression meds and theyre the only ones who worked and i started eating more cus i felt well enough too but put on weight and immediately dropped them. or like im so busy working in the medical field and with adhd i just often dont have time, so imagine moving in with jay and he cooks for you and makes sure you now have a good eating diet instead of few snacks and ton of caffiene for the day so naturally you put on weight and he just is FROTHING at the mouth.

this ask has me frothing at the mouth. i’m going to marry you anon

reader starting to gain weight bc jay cooking for them…

(content warnings for weight gain, AFAB body but no pronouns or gender mentioned, dress used as a plot point, swearing, 2nd person POV, very suggestive near the end, pet names used: ma, sweetheart, baby)

Starting to live with Jason is a dream.

You thought he was a near perfect boyfriend before (well, at least perfect for you), but now?

He’s a househusband. You mean it in the most affectionate, positive way possible, but he genuinely insists on cooking and cleaning entirely by himself. You compromised with him by agreeing that you’ll put away clean laundry when it’s done, but he doesn’t allow you to finish any more domestic labor with your work keeping you so busy.

It’s been a long shift, being on your feet and working for almost 14 hours. So, getting home at 8:39 PM, you expected Jason to have just ordered some takeout or pizza for dinner due to your absence.

Your keys jingle as you unlock the front door to your shared apartment, yawning as you step inside and toe off your shoes. “Jayce, I’m home!” You call out, hanging up your keys and setting down your bag.

But he doesn’t come out of his office our your shared bedroom. He’s in the kitchen, an apron around his waist and a grin on his lips.

“Hey, ma.” He murmurs as you drape yourself over his back and nuzzle between his shoulderblades. “Long day?”

“You have no idea.” You grumble, pressing the smallest of kisses to his spine. “You’re cooking? You could’ve just ordered takeout earlier, you didn’t need to wait up for me.”

“I wanted to.” He replies, almost scoffing. “I’m not gonna let you eat a granola bar and call it dinner.”

You can nearly feel your heart melting in your chest.

“You really didn’t have to.” You reiterate. “But thank you.”

You two haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet, but you’re incredibly tempted. Jason is so easily spooked by love. So you show him with your actions, instead. The gentle kisses and caresses, the gentle nights and even softer mornings.

And by the way he cooks you your favorite foods after long shifts and hard days, you’d wager he’s doing the same.

———

Recently, you’ve noticed a small trend in your clothing.

Some of the smaller items you have are a little too tight lately. Plus, you can’t wear your bra on the tightest setting anymore, and your usual hole on your belt is a little too restrictive when you fasten it.

Jason is helping you clip your bra when he notices.

“Don’t you wear it on the other hook?” He murmurs, clipping it on the second. “I know I’ve helped you with this before.”

You hum, turning around and pecking his lips as a thanks for the assistance. “Yeah. I might be gaining some weight recently, it might be the new medication I’m on. Might need to do more cardio or something.”

Jason frowns. “You’re already doing more than you should. You are not gonna try and push yourself even more.”

You roll your eyes, huffing. “Whatever. I probably won’t gain much more weight, anyway.”

———

You were such a fool.

Over the next several months living with Jason, you’ve had to go up a clothing size, up a bra band size, and up a half-size in your shoes.

But every time you bring it up with Jason, he brushes it off, just reassuring you that it’s normal for hormones to cause weight fluctuations and that you’re perfect the way you are.

Finally, you’re trying on an old dress when you can’t quite fit into it, and you break. You can’t just let him ignore it anymore.

“Jason.” You sigh, calling him into your bedroom. “Come here.”

Jason is there in just a few seconds, grinning when he sees you in the dress. “Hey, baby. Feeling nostalgic or somethin’?”

You roll your eyes. “Try and zip it up.”

He quirks an eyebrow, but he does. And it doesn’t get any further than your mid-back.

“This fit me fine a few months ago.” You say, sounding equal parts confused and annoyed. “Loosely, even.”

The rest of your words fade into the foggy background as Jason’s mind runs wild.

You only notice when his hands move and he starts to unzip the dress, then slipping his hands into it and caressing your sides.

“You’re so beautiful.” He mutters, voice thick with… Something. “Look at you. You were so thin before, remember? You didn’t even eat two full meals a day. Maybe 1000 calories on a good day.”

“That’s an exaggeration.” You scoff.

Jason noses against your neck, mouthing at the soft, sensitive skin. “Barely. Fuck, you’re so pretty. Stunning. I love cookin’ for ya, you’re actually eatin’ right now. Your body is catching up. Your metabolism is slower ‘cause of your diet before, and now you’re actually getting the shit you need.”

You sigh, realizing he’s right. “Damn it.”

He frowns, biting gently at your shoulder. “This isn’t a ‘damn it’ moment, baby. Look at you.”

His hands start to wander. One caresses your stomach as the other wanders up to your chest. “Fuck. Sweetheart, haven’t you noticed? Your bra’s too small.”

You frown. “No it’s not, I just got a new one.”

He smirks, thumb ghosting over where your chest almost spills from the cups. “Yeah, it is. You went up a cup size.”

———

After that day, every time you tried to start a diet or new workout routine, he would vehemently disagree until you gave in.

This morning, though, he’s staring.

You’re in just your underwear, and he’s staring as you stretch and dig through your wardrobe for something to wear.

“You’re off today, right?” He asks, voice rough from sleep.

You don’t even hear him until he’s right behind you, his large hands on your hips.

“Yeah, I’m off.” You respond, suspiciously eyeing him when you turn around.

He’s shameless in his ogling, not even bothering to warn you before he picks you up effortlessly.

“Wha- Jason!” You exclaim, holding tight to his shoulders. “Put me down!”

He smiles wickedly, plopping you down on the bed and pulling you flush to him as he leans down and captures your lips with his.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, biting your bottom lip and making you gasp. “You’re so soft. You know how hard it is to stop myself from practically groping you all the damn time? Your hips, your thighs, your stomach….”

You don’t even have the opportunity to think before he’s squeezing your hips and pulling back to look at you properly. “Can I have you, ma? Please? I’m hungry, baby, and I really want those pretty fuckin’ thighs around my head.”

These changes to your body are new, but maybe not as bad as you thought.

[christopherisfoive]

Hiii I want to request a prompt for chan

Would you mind doing prompts 4, 14 and 16 together for chan? Hehe thank youu, but if you don’t want to it’s always fine too!

Love you byeee

Order up! ☕✨

Jealous glare, three days of tension, one messy confession—more “medium-burn” than slow, I’ll admit. Still packs a punch. Thanks for the prompt; come back if you want something that smolders longer. Also is the length okay? For one shots I try not to make them too too long but if you guys like them that way let me know! Getting through more requests. My inbox is very packed ty ty guys!

☕ Love and Other Stupid Disasters

Jealousy that turns into something more | Enemies to lovers tension | “I hate how much I love you

Day 1 The Usual Annoyance

You are wiping fingerprints off the front counter when the bell above the door chirps.

No need to look up. Only one person strides in like he owns the oxygen.

“Medium black,” Bang Chan announces, dropping his elbows onto the still-damp counter.

“Maybe today you’ll spell my name right, gorgeous?”

You drag a fresh cup over and scrawl without glancing up.

Chris pratt.

Chan clicks his tongue. “Creative slander, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome,” you deadpan. “Delusions of grandeur pair nicely with burnt beans.”

He grins like a wolf, swipes two stir sticks, and flicks them across the surface so they skitter into your rinse tub.

A petty little victory.

You answer with a sugary smile and an eye roll big enough to see from space.

Neither of you notices the regulars filming your silent comedy on their phones.

Day 2 Sharper Edges

Chan is early. Cockier. Louder.

“Miss me?” “Like food poisoning.”

He leans so close you can smell detergent and rain on his hoodie.

You pretend not to breathe him in. He pretends not to watch your cheeks heat.

Chris provolone lands on his cup today. He laughs outright, tells you the pun is lactose intolerant.

You flip him off behind the pastry case. A barista snorts. Customers whisper. Exactly the kind of attention neither of you claims to want.

Day 3 The Smiley

It’s late when a flirty stranger appears. Handsome, harmless, tipping too much.

You laugh at his bad joke, draw a tiny 🙂 next to Paul and slide the latte across.

The café could have imploded from the way Chan’s smile falls.

He collects his black coffee without a word. Paper creaks under his grip. His shoulders are stone as he exits. Your stomach drops so hard you miss the register beeping.

Day 4 Silence

No Bang Chan. No bickering. No stir sticks skittering.

The shift is only six hours, but it stretches like taffy in your chest.

Day 5 Frostbite

Chan reappears in the doorway, hoodie up, unreadable.

“Medium black.”

You set a plain cup on the bar.

He doesn’t peek at the name. He doesn’t tease. He simply pays and leaves.

No seat by the window, no lingering glance.

Your heart ricochets around your ribs while the door swings shut behind him.

Day 6 The Echo

He’s back, but worse. Polite, detached, professional.

You answer in the same frosty tone. Your voices are knives wrapped in linen.

You nearly write Chris provolone—stop, scribble nothing.

He doesn’t notice. Or pretends not to.

You wipe the counter long after he’s gone, chasing a stain that isn’t there.

Day 7 The Heart

Closing shift. Lights dim. Chairs stacked. You sit alone, marker tapping against your thumbnail. Your chest feels stretched, thin, empty.

A clean cup. A shaky hand. A single heart, tiny, desperate. Drawn where a name should be.

You tuck it beneath the register and hope you haven’t lost your mind.

Day 8 Breaking Point

Chan arrives right before lock-up. Hoodie down. Eyes ringed by sleepless nights.

You slide the heart cup toward him, fingers trembling. He stops, reads the silent apology. Something breaks behind his eyes.

For the first time in days he heads to the window seat and waits.

The café empties. Lights dim to after-hours amber. Your pulse thunders while you bolt the door and cross the floor.

The Argument

You sit, arms crossed. “Silent treatment and melodrama. Original.”

“Jealousy looks melodramatic from the outside,” he mutters.

“It was a smiley face. Grow up.”

“Easy for the barista of the year. I was just another caffeine fix.” Chan plays with the cuff of his sleeve, avoiding eye contact.

He spins the cup; the little heart blurs in circles.

“You think I only noticed you because you’re loud?”

“Did you? Because it sure looked like you had smiles to spare, just never for me.”

Anger flares, sharp, defensive, terrified.

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy acting untouchable...”

“Maybe if caring about you didn’t feel like self sabotage...”

He half-stands, chair scraping, voice cracking.

“I hate it, Y/N. How much you matter. I hate how much I—” He swallows, fists curled white around the paper cup. “I hate how much I love you,” Chan says, voice hoarse.

The Collapse

Air leaves your lungs. You stand, shoving your chair back. He mirrors you, hoodie strings wrapped around his fists like lifelines.

“You’re an idiot,” you say with a tiny smile.

“Yours, though?”

It’s not a plea. It’s a confession in four syllables.

You grip the strings, yank him forward, crash your mouth onto his.

The kiss is ugly. Teeth clack, noses bump, breathless and wet with unshed tears.

His hands frame your jaw, thumbs trembling. Your fingers fist in soft cotton like you’ll drown without him.

When you part, foreheads pressed together, both shaking, you finally breathe:

“Tomorrow I’m drawing the worst Chris Pratt you’ve ever seen.”

Chan laughs, half sobbing. “Make it a masterpiece. I’m keeping the cup.”

You stay there long after the lights time out, two silhouettes tangled in a mess of love and leftover anger— and for the first time all week, the café feels right again.

[morgana-larkin]

Here it is, the next chapter! Now for this one, Joe is back for half the chapter and you might all hate this chapter but I don’t really care. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I just want to say Happy Valentine’s Day to everyone! I was able to write a chapter today but I’m going on a date tomorrow so I won’t have a lot of time to write a chapter but I’ll see if I can write one quickly.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26

Just Tired - Part 8

Warnings: manipulative relationship, Upset Mel (you’ve been warned)

Words: 2.7k

You and Melissa get to your place. You let the both of you in and then you take your shoes off while Melissa looks around.

“If you’re looking for my roommate, she won’t get here for another hour.” You tell her and she nods. “Do you want to text Joe? Just to get it over with, and you’re not home so there’s no way he can get to you. I’m not pressuring you but I’m guessing it’s something on your mind.” You tell her and she nods.

“I want to end it but… I don’t know, I’m just scared.” She says and she goes to sit on the couch and you follow her.

“What are you scared about?”

“I’ve been with Joe since I was 23, I’ve been with him for most of my life and now I’m letting him go.” She tells you. “I get he’s a manipulator, but there’s some part of me that wants to stay with him as he’s all I’ve known for 25 years.” She tells you and you hum. She then gets a text and she goes to read it before she groans.

“What is it?”

“Joe said he wants to know when I’m coming home so we can talk about what happened.” She tells you and you look at the text.

“You don’t have to go see him in person, you can tell him right now that it’s over.”

“No, I think it’s better if I tell him in person. I think it's better for me, so my brain understands that it’ll actually be over.” She says and you nod.

“Want me to drive you over?” You ask her and she nods.

“Please.” She says softly and you take her hand.

You drive her to her place where Joe walks out of the house as soon as he hears the car pull in. You see a white bandage over his nose and think that Melissa got him good. Melissa takes a deep breath and then gets out of the car.

“Melissa where have you been? You haven’t been home since yesterday afternoon.” He asks her and then sees you. “What is your coworker doing here and driving your car?”

“That doesn’t matter.” She tells him and then you slightly roll down the window, enough so you can hear but they don’t notice that it’s open. “I wanted to come here to tell you that it’s over between us, I want a divorce.” She firmly states.

“Oh come on Melissa, you’re just overreacting.” Joe tells her. “Look I know you’re sorry about breaking my nose, so just come inside.” He says and she shakes her head.

“No, I’m telling you that I’m really asking for a divorce.” She says and walks a few steps towards him. “I’m going to file for one and I want to make sure that you’ll sign the papers.”

“I’m not going to sign them. I’m not signing anything because of some hissy fit.” He tells her and crosses his arms.

“You have been manipulating me this entire time, the entire time we’ve been together. I think the least you can do is sign the damn papers.” She admits to him and he widens his eyes slightly.

“I haven’t been manipulating you. I don’t know what’s going on in your mind or what your coworkers have been drilling into your head, but let’s just continue our normal lives as husband and wife.” He says and offers her a hand for her to take.

“They haven’t been telling me anything, I found out on my own.” She says and Joe looks at you.

“Has she been spewing nonsense at you. I saw how she looked at you at the bar, she has a crush on you.” He says, blaming everything on you. “I bet she’s been feeding you lies about me, about us. She wants this to happen, she wants to be with you so she’s sabotaging our marriage.” He says to her and she’s shaking her head.

“No, she’s not.” Melissa tells him and walks closer to him. “I haven’t been happy in a long time and I never knew why until yesterday.” She admits and he looks at her.

“Do you think you can find someone else? Someone who will love you better than me?” He asks her as she steps toward her. “Face it, I’m your best chance.” He says with anger and points a finger at her.

“No, no you’re not.” She says and looks down quickly before looking back up with a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Now you’re crying? You’re so sensitive, woman.” He tells her.

“It’s ok to have emotions, it’s ok for me to cry.” She defends herself. “You just never wanted me to cry because you wanted me to just stay clueless about what you were doing to me.” She tells him and then he grabs both her wrists. “Let me go!” She tells him.

“I haven’t been doing anything to you, it’s you that’s clearly flying off the rails. If you leave me then you’ll be alone for the rest of your life.” He says to her. “It’s obvious you’re not feeling well right now, so just calm down and I’ll bring you to bed.”

“No, just let me go.” She says softly as a few more tears stream down her face. He then is able to hold both her wrists in one hand and he grabs her chin with his free hand.

“Melissa, come on and think about it. We’ve been together for 25 years and we love each other, shouldn’t that be enough for you?” He tells her and she shakes her head. “So you want to be alone for the rest of your life? Cause that’s what you'll be if you let me go.”

“You should let her go.” You tell him and he turns his head to see you there holding a bat, ready to swing. “Let her go, she said she wants a divorce.” You add.

“You’re probably feeding her nonsense, trying to ruin a perfectly good marriage so you can have her.” He says to you and you shake your head.

“I haven’t done a thing except helping Melissa yesterday after she left you.” You tell him. “Now let her go or I won’t hesitate to use this.” You say and he thinks about it for a few seconds before he lets her go.

“You’ll regret this Melissa, and you’ll come crawling back to me.” He tells her before he walks back inside the house.

You lower the bat before you run up to Melissa, who’s full on crying right now. You wrap your arms around her and she lays her head on your chest while she just cries it out. After about a minute you gently stroke her head and she wraps her arms around your waist. You feel her pull the both of you down so you lower yourself, with her, to your knees. After a couple minutes, you feel her sniffle and her tears subside.

“Can you take me to your place?” She says softly and you nod.

“I can definitely do that.” You tell her and you help her stand up and then bring her to the passenger seat. You put the bat back in the backseat and then you drive the both of you to your place.

“Can we go to your room and cuddle?” She asks you and you nod. She walks to your room without any help from you and you see her wrap her arms around herself and she’s looking down. You quickly get a box of chocolates from the cupboard and bring it upstairs to your room where she’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“None of what he told you was true.” You tell her and she looks up at you. “I heard everything.” You admit and she brings her knees to her chest and hugs herself. “Were you wanting to cuddle on the edge of the bed?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

You go up to the headboard, place the chocolates on the nightstand and sit down and she takes a deep breath before she crawls up to you and places her head on your lap. You gently stroke her hair and she wraps one of her arms around your legs. You then start humming a lullaby that your mom used to sing to you and you feel some of her tension leave.

“Something he did say was true.” She tells you.

“What are you referring to?” You ask.

“You did help ruin the marriage.” She says softly and you look at her and freeze in your stroking. “But that’s not a bad thing.” She adds. “I’m glad you got involved, that you overstepped.” She says and you resume stroking her head.

“Ya?”

“Ya, I knew I was unhappy but I couldn’t figure out why. Until you got involved.” She tells you and you hum. “I have something to confess.”

“And what would that be?”

“Barb’s guest bedroom is always ready to be used, she didn’t have to get it ready.” She admits. “If I’m being honest, it felt nice to be held like how you held me last night and I wanted that again.”

“Melissa, you could have told me that and I still would have said you can stay here again.” You tell her.

“I know but I just didn’t want to admit it, out loud.” She tells you and a thought pops into your head.

“Melissa?” You ask her and she hums. “Did you know you might be into women?” You ask her.

“No, but last week I realised that I’ve been attracted to women before without knowing.” She confesses.

“Are you comfortable going to a bar where women will definitely hit on you?”

“Ya, I think that’s something that will make me feel better. Explore more of myself and kiss some people.” She says.

“It’s a gay bar, so there’ll be lesbians, bisexual women and men.” You tell her. “But mostly lesbians and bisexual women hang out there. And I see most of them hit on older women. So they’ll be all over you.” You add and she hums.

“That sounds nice.” She says with a yawn and then she falls asleep on your lap. You then get your phone out and you text Barb what happened and that Melissa is now asleep on your lap.

Melissa opens her eyes and sees that she’s been tucked in your bed and her head is on one of your pillows. She’s pretty sure she was just laying on your lap a few seconds ago. She then hears some noise downstairs so she gets out of bed and makes her way to the stairs. She then hears some voices in the kitchen and realises that you and Barb are talking.

“You’re doing an excellent job at helping her dear.” Barb tells you.

“I just feel like I’m not doing enough.” You say to her.

“You’re listening to what she needs and making sure she gets exactly what she needs to help. I mean you did a combined class all day because she needed you at the last minute.” Barb says.

“Ok.” You say. “Will this really help her feel better?” You then ask.

“It’s a comfort meal of hers that I made her after she had a fight with Joe and I made it every time she stayed at my place overnight.” Barb explains to you. At that moment Melissa decides to go downstairs and you look up and smile at her.

“Hey, you’re awake.” You tell her. “Feel any better?” You ask and she nods.

“I’m pretty sure I fell asleep on your lap though.” She says and you nod.

“You did, but Barb came over and I had to open the door for her.” You tell her and she hums. “She made your favourite comfort food.” You add and she looks at Barb putting it on 3 plates.

“Y/n told me everything.” Barb tells Melissa.

“You warned me about him 15 years ago and I should have listened to you.” Melissa tells Barb.

“Melissa, sometimes people in this situation aren’t aware for a while and they have to figure it out themselves. Even though Y/n and I both told you, you had to figure it out yourself to actually understand what was happening.” She tells Melissa and you see how Melissa nods with watery eyes. You go up to Melissa with a plate and you gently hand it to her while also rubbing her arm.

“Eating might make you feel better.” You tell her softly and she nods as she takes the plate and heads over to the couch. Barb hands you one of the plates and you both follow Melissa to the couch. You end up sitting on the floor across from them and Melissa looks at you.

“Where are you eating on the floor?” She asks you.

“It really only fits 2 people comfortably.” You tell her. She then looks at the empty spot on the couch and then at you. Barb gets the hint and goes to the side of the couch before Melissa pats the now empty spot beside her. “I mean it, it’s really only comfortable for 2.” You repeat and she raises her eyebrows at you before you get up and join them on the couch. Melissa gets you to sit down as close to her as possible so that at least your legs are touching hers.

All 3 of you eat dinner and talk for about an hour before Barb heads back to her place and you’re left alone with Melissa again. Melissa then goes to cuddle you on the couch. You lean back on the couch and she wraps an arm around your waist and places her head on your chest. You wrap an arm around her and she lets out a content sigh. She stays like through the entire movie that you let her pick.

“I should go have a shower before bed.” You tell her and she sighs.

“No.” She complains and wraps her arm tighter around you.

“Melissa, we can cuddle in bed after I’m done.” You tell her and she still doesn’t let you go. “Melissa, I promise we can cuddle in bed after I’m finished or you can swing that bat at my head.” You tell her and she thinks about it before she sighs and lets you go. “I’ll be quick.” You tell her and then you go have a quick shower while she goes upstairs and gets changed in some pjs.

You come out in a towel and hair wet and Melissa freezes at the sight and her cheeks turn the same colour as her hair. You miss her reaction as you went right to your dresser to get some pjs.

“I keep forgetting to bring pjs with me.” You say as you get some out. Melissa snaps out of her trance before you turn around and she swallows the extra saliva she got from drooling over you.

“That’s ok. I’ll just finish getting ready for bed in the bathroom.” Melissa says and then bolts to the bathroom.

She comes out a few minutes later and you’re in bed on your phone. She crawls into bed beside you and you set your alarms before you put your phone down and look at her.

“I called Ava and told her I’m not going into work tomorrow.” She tells you and you nod.

“That’s a good idea.” You say to her.

Melissa looks into your eyes and sees the care you have for her and she feels a slight flutter in her stomach. In a moment of confidence she goes to give you a kiss on your cheek as a thank you. You happen to turn your head right before and she ends up kissing your lips. She quickly pulls away and you both are looking at each other with wide eyes as the realisation kicks in. Melissa licks her lips and looks at yours before she kisses you again.

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[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 31

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30

1.6k words

There’s a difference between knowing it’ll be 2.5 days of travel to Zen’s village and then truly understanding what 2.5 days of travel on foot actually feels like. At least Zen is trying to make it as easy as possible.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

--------

Two and half days was not an accurate estimate for how long it would take to get to Zen’s village.

“How much farther is it?” you asked Zen. He had warned you that it usually took him two and a half days to get to his village, but that was walking at his pace. At this point you were kicking yourself for not taking him up on his offer to borrow a horse for you from the royal stables. You had never ridden a horse before and did not want to look silly trying to learn how to on the fly, but that would have been preferable to all this walking at least.

“We are only a few hours outside the city, though at this rate it will take quite a bit longer to get there” he pointed out.

You groaned, somehow it did not sink in before when he told you how long it would take.

“We can stop and rest” he offered.

“We just stopped a little while ago. If we keep stopping so much we’ll never get there.”

“We will get there eventually, and I would rather take our time instead of having you drop dead, so how about we take a break?”

You grumbled your agreement and let Zen unpack some water and food for lunch. It was simple, just some dried fish and other meats, some fruit, and some incredibly dry, dense bread.

“I do not really like it either” he commented as he watched you gnaw at the chunk of bread, “It is an orc thing, and not very good, but it lasts well when traveling.”

You curled up on his lap after both of you were done with lunch, not caring that you were already overheating and Zen was always practically a furnace. Between the heat and all the walking you were exhausted. Without saying anything he leaned back and kept you against his chest until he was entirely laying down. You may have been sticky and sweaty, but he did not seem to care as you laid on top of him.

After an accidental nap and lunch you did feel a bit refreshed though, once more winding your way through the plains with Zen.

“There is a small village on the coast about a day from here, we could stop there and see if they have anyone sailing north we could go with” Zen said.

“Anything to speed this up” you nodded. He might have been used to all this traveling and walking, but you sure were not.

Zen ended up carrying you for a good portion of the rest of the day, though not until after you protested heavily about not needing to be toted around like a child. Regardless, it went much faster at his pace.

As the sun set Zen sat you down in the little cluster of trees next to stream that he decided would make a good camp for the night. Quickly he busied himself with lighting a fire while he sent you to refill the water skins in the stream. It was so quiet being so far from the city, probably the quietest the world had ever been for you.

The sandy, packed earth of the desert around the city had given way to patchy plains many miles ago, which in turn was now fading into a denser grassland with sporadic trees. While it had been just as hot all day, the temperature now that the sun was nearly down was not dropping as much here at least, the grass was able to insulate and hold on to some of the sun’s warmth.

Dinner was the same sort of basic meal as lunch, the two of you sat close together on the bed roll just relaxing. You had never been so tired even though you had only walked half of the day. Zen, while still tired looking, did not seem nearly as exhausted as you and was just happily leaning on you and resting his chin on top of your head.

You reached up to scratch his head, which just made him pull you onto his lap so he could nuzzle you a bit better.

You could feel your pulse rising in your throat, you had not been out of the city since you were attacked over a month ago and all those feelings were bubbling up. You knew for certain that Zen could protect you, that even way out here that he was more than capable of keeping you safe, but right now it was doing nothing to calm you.

“Hey” his voice was soft in your ear, “Are you alright?”

You just shook your head, unable to find words.

“Talk to me, I can tell something is wrong.”

“It’s just been a while since I left the city.”

Clearly he realized what you meant. He hugged on to you a little tighter, “I have you, I will not let anything ever hurt you again, I promise.”

You buried your face into his chest, trying to block out the world with the smell of incense and the sound of his steady heartbeat. He shifted about under you and laid down, pulling you on your his chest and covering you both with the blanket. Like this his tusks were holding up the blanket, making a little tent.

“I promise it is just you and me out here, and if anything gets close Tsov’ka will let me know.”

You nodded into his chest, not actually feeling any better but you appreciated that he was trying to reassure you.

Sleep did not come easy. Every little sound startled you back awake, which then also seemed to wake up Zen. Each time he would rub your back and sing to you until you fell back asleep.

Morning came too soon and Zen woke you for breakfast, the same simple meal as lunch and dinner yesterday. He looked tired, even if he would not admit it, as the two of you set off following the stream to the coast.

“Oh wow” you said. It was not like the rocky, cliff side coast that you knew back home. The water was not gray and churning, instead it was clear and smooth, and the beach was just flat sand littered with shells.

“Have you seen the ocean before?” he asked.

“Not like this, it’s so calm and bright.”

“Come, how about we walk on the shore then.”

You packed your shoes into Zen’s bag and walked where the sea met the land. Gentle waves ran over your feet while you kept bending down to pick up shells, the hem of your skirt was getting wet but you did not care, you were having fun. Zen held onto the shells you found, carefully tucking your newly found treasures into the pockets of his bag.

“I promise there will be more shells when went get to my village, we still need room in my pack for our clothes” he kissed the top of your head and helped you pack the last of your shells for now.

On the soft sand you quickly got tired as you struggled to keep from sinking into it with every step. Zen on the other hand seemed to have no problem with staying on top of it and soon you ended up with him carrying you once more.

In the distance the first few structures emerged from the horizon, steadily growing in size until it was a small village in the distance. It was not much, maybe a dozen or so houses right on the shore centered around a large fire pit, but it was civilization and possibly the chance to sail the rest of the way to Zen’s village.

Immediately several people flocked around the two of you, chatting with Zen in his tongue and looking at you with curiosity. After a few minutes you were both being ushered to sit down around the fire and being handed food, it was a nice change from the dried rations you had for the last few meals.

“They seem friendly, people you know?” you asked.

“I think I have met a few people here in passing, but no one I know well” he said, “But it does look like there is a few fishermen who planned on sailing north tomorrow morning that we can go with. It will not get us all the way to my village, but we will only be about half a day away then.”

It was nice seeing Zen interacting with everyone, people who were strangers he seemed to talk to like old friends. Periodically he paused to translate and fill you in, though most of it went over your head; updates on other villages or people, chatting about aspects of his culture you did not have analogues for, but it was all the same to you. Really you were feeling to tired to socialize anyway and it was just nice to see him looking so relaxed and happy.

He always seemed happier speaking his own language. He gestured with his hands a lot in his language, unlike when he spoke human common. His pitch and inflection seemed to vary a lot more than when he spoke common versus his relatively flat common, he was just so much more animated.

You leaned against him to get his attention, “Teach me your language.”

“Orcish would be more useful for you, more people speak it back in the city” he said.

“I want to talk to you, like this” you gestured vaguely around, “I like listening when you talk, I want to be able to hear how you really talk and sound.”

You could feel how hard he was purring just from where you where leaning on his arm.

He leaned his head down and nuzzled the top of yours, “Then I would be very happy to teach you.”

--------

Part 32

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[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 22

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x dealer!Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, angst, cursing, grief, sadness

I woke up in the late afternoon hours after a restless night of crying. My eyes were swollen and heavy, my body weak and exhausted. I hadn’t eaten since the news broke, and even the thought of food made me feel sick. My stomach growled in protest, but I didn’t care. Hunger was the least of my worries.

I had kept myself locked in my room all night, ignoring the calls and messages that had poured in. Willow had left several voicemails, her voice cracking as she begged me to let her in. I couldn't face her, or anyone, for that matter. I didn’t want comfort or questions. I didn’t want to feel anything at all.

But as the afternoon became the evening, I knew I had to eat. My body felt too weak to keep ignoring its needs, no matter how hollow I felt inside. Something quick and easy, I thought. Just enough to at least one of the aches in my body.

Dragging myself out of bed, clutching Ralph tightly in my arms. The house was eerily quiet as I shuffled down the hallway toward the kitchen, every step heavier than the last.

When I opened the kitchen door, my eyes immediately landed on the chicken sitting on the counter. It was still there, untouched since I abandoned it the moment I thought Nate was dead. 

The sight of it, something so simple, sent me spiraling all over again.

My knees buckled, and I gripped the edge of the counter to steady myself. Tears streamed down my face as the memories of that night flooded back. Chris teasing me about the chicken. The kiss he gave me before he left. The stupid little flick of the fairy lights that had made me smile.

And now he was gone.

I clutched Ralph tighter, holding him against my chest as if he could somehow shield me from the pain. My sobs came hard and fast, shaking my whole body. The room spun, and I sank to the cold tile floor, my back pressed against the cabinets.

I cried until I couldn’t anymore, my tears leaving streaks on my face and my throat raw from the effort. The chicken sat there, mocking me, a reminder of what could’ve been.

I don’t know how long I sat there on the floor, staring at nothing. Time seemed irrelevant, just like everything else.

I pulled my knees to my chest, burying my face in Ralph’s fur. “Why, Chris?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Why did you leave me?”

The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of my shallow breaths.

I didn’t know how to keep going. How to live with this empty ache where Chris used to be.

All I wanted was to see his face again, so I pulled my phone from my pocket, my fingers trembling as I unlocked the screen. My thumb hovered over the camera roll before I finally opened it. Scrolling through the photos, I stopped on one I’d taken of Chris just days ago.

He was holding Ralph, with that playful grin on his face. The image felt so vivid, so full of life, it made my heart ache. I stared at it, my eyes tracing every detail, the curve of his smile, the sparkle in his eyes, the way his hair fell perfectly without him even trying. How could someone so alive be gone?

Tears blurred my vision, but I wiped them away, determined not to spiral again. I needed to do something, anything, to distract myself.

An idea came to me, something simple but meaningful. I decided to make a little setup in my room for Chris, a small space just for him.

I walked to the office next to the dining room, where we kept the printer and all the other little odds and ends my mom liked to hoard. Connecting my phone to the printer, I selected the photo of Chris and Ralph. The printer whirred to life, and within moments, the picture slid out, warm and vivid.

I picked it up carefully, holding it as though it were something fragile. The photo felt so real, like I could reach out and touch him through it.

Mom loved having photos around the house, so I knew there were bound to be some spare frames tucked away somewhere. I rummaged through a drawer in the office and found a small, simple silver frame. It wasn’t fancy, but it would do.

I slipped the photo into the frame, smoothing it out to make sure it sat perfectly. Staring at it again, I felt a bittersweet pang in my chest. “Perfect” I whispered, my voice breaking just slightly.

With the frame in hand, I walked back to my room. I placed it on my bedside table, positioning it so I could see it the moment I woke up. Ralph sat beside it, a silent reminder of one of the last happy moments Chris and I shared.

It wasn’t much, but it felt like a piece of him was here with me, even if just in spirit. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the photo for what felt like hours, lost in the memory of the man who had somehow managed to leave such a deep imprint on my heart.

The space was nice, but it still felt like it needed more life. The framed photo of Chris and Ralph on my bedside table was sweet, but the area seemed too plain, too empty for something that meant so much. My eyes flicked to the wall behind it, and an idea crossed my mind.

Fairy lights.

I immediately thought about the ones hanging in the treehouse, how Chris always flicked them on and off in that odd little pattern of his. They would look perfect here, draped on the wall behind the photo and Ralph, giving the space a warm, comforting glow.

But as quickly as the idea came, I shook my head. I didn’t want to touch those lights. That was how Chris left them, his little quirk preserved exactly the way he’d done it. Moving them felt wrong, like I’d be erasing a piece of him.

I sat on the edge of my bed, conflicted, staring at the framed photo as though it would offer me an answer.

“No” I whispered to myself. “The lights stay where they are.”

It felt silly, but those lights in the treehouse meant more to me now than they ever had before. They weren’t just decorations, they were a memory, a connection to Chris and the moments we shared.

Instead, I decided I’d find another way to make the space feel more alive. Maybe I could add a small plant or a candle, something soft and comforting. For now, though, I let the simplicity of the photo and Ralph keep me company. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

And that was enough effort from me today. I crawled back into bed, my room once again cloaked in darkness. The weather outside had taken a turn, with heavy rain and howling winds rattling the windows. The eerie atmosphere should have unsettled me, but oddly, it was a little comforting. Maybe a distraction was what I needed.

I grabbed my phone and opened Netflix, scrolling until I landed on Gilmore Girls. It was familiar and safe, exactly what I needed to escape my thoughts. Two episodes passed in a blur, but my mind still refused to quiet. Desperate for more distraction, I switched over to YouTube, hoping an ASMR video might help me fall asleep.

I prefer listening to ASMR with headphones, so I reluctantly got out of bed, trying to feel my way through the pitch black room. The wind outside battered the windows, and a chill seeped through the cracks, sending shivers down my spine.

Then it happened.

That familiar glow on, off, on, off flickered through my window again. My breath hitched as I froze in place. It wasn’t possible. My heart pounded in my chest as I turned toward the faint light. 

“No” I whispered, shaking my head as my pulse quickened. “Not again.”

I froze, staring at the flicker of light. My chest tightened as my mind spun in circles, refusing to make sense of it.

“All I wanted was a distraction” I muttered, my voice trembling. “And all I’m getting is reminders,” 

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes as frustration and sorrow consumed me. “I need to take the batteries out” I muttered, my voice shaky. “I can’t keep torturing myself like this.”

Grabbing my phone for light, I stumbled toward the balcony door, my heart pounding with every step. I shoved it open, and the icy rain instantly soaked through my clothes. The wind whipped against me as I stepped outside, teeth chattering from more than just the cold.

And then I saw him.

Chris.

Standing in the treehouse, drenched from the rain, illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of the fairy lights. His hands gripped the railing, his face shadowed but unmistakably his.

The world stopped.

My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the wet balcony floor, unable to breathe. My phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the ground as I stared, my vision blurred by tears.

“Chris?” I whispered, the word barely escaping my trembling lips.

He didn’t move, but his eyes, those familiar eyes, locked onto mine. They were haunted, filled with something unspoken that only made my heart ache more.

“This isn’t real” I choked out, my voice raw. “You’re not real.”

Chris climbed over the balcony, his movements careful but swift, like he was racing against my spiraling emotions. The moment his feet hit the floor, he was in front of me, dropping to his knees and pull me into his arms before I could think to protest. His warmth engulfed me, the familiar scent of him cutting through the storm in my chest. I froze in his embrace, my mind screaming to pull away, but my body betraying me, leaning into the solace I’d craved for what felt like an eternity.

Realistically, I didn’t know whether to feel relief or anger. My heart raced, caught in a brutal tug of war between the two. Relief because he was here, alive, standing in front of me when I thought I’d lost him forever. Anger because he let me believe otherwise, let me break into pieces and drown in the darkest depths of grief.

My hands shook as I tried to steady myself, gripping the edge of the balcony for support to get myself back to my feet. The storm raged around us, lightning cracking in the distance, illuminating his soaked figure in brief, harsh flashes. He looked like a ghost, haunted, tired, but undeniably alive.

“You..” My voice cracked as I tried to speak, but it came out as a whisper. “You’re alive?”

Chris nodded slowly, taking a cautious step forward, his hands raised slightly as if approaching a wounded animal.

“I can explain.” he said, his voice low but steady, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil within.

I stumbled to my feet, my body swaying as a fresh wave of disbelief hit me. “Explain?” I shouted, the storm swallowing my words as I stared at him, my chest heaving. “Explain what, Chris? That you let me think you were dead? That you-”

My voice broke, and I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms as I tried to hold myself together.

“Please, Y/n” Chris begged, his voice low and steady, though the weight of his plea made my chest tighten. “We can explain.”

“We?” I asked sharply, my voice cutting through the sound of the storm outside.

Chris turned his head in the direction of the front of my house, his eyes narrowing slightly as if searching for the right words. My heart raced, sensing something I wasn’t going to like.

“Yeah” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. He shifted his gaze to the driveway below.

I followed his line of sight, and my breath caught in my throat. Standing there, drenched from the rain, was Nate. He was standing in front of his car, hands in pockets, staring directly at us with an expression that was impossible to read.

My mind reeled as the pieces began to fall into place. 

He was in on this too?

a/n: sorry for any tears that were shed

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[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 19

Hello everyone! Welcome to the new year! I am back and swinging! I have a good backlog now and I'm feeling better about writing after that break. I was feeling really burned out after Christmas. I still love writing, but I didn't have the energy to do it.

But after that three week hiatus, I am back to writing 800-1000 words a day which is what keeps me up to date on my backlog when I'm posting.

I recommend reading the last chapter again as a refresher before this one (linked below).

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

In this chapter we have the boys' night out and Eddie and Steve talk about where they stand with other.

~

Eddie was standing at the front of the hotel looking at his watch and tapping his foot, when the three adults pulled into the valet parking lot.

When Gareth got out and tossed Steve the keys, he came bounding up to them. “What time do you call this, young man?” he teased, putting his hands on his hips.

They all burst out laughing as Eddie tried to hold the serious pose and failed miserably.

“Just a small hiccup up at the stadium,” Jeff said, rolling his eyes. “A fan recognized me and Gare and we were signing autographs for about a half hour.”

Eddie paused for a moment and tilted his head to side. “You were signing autographs without me?” He put a hand on his forehead and pretended to swoon. “You have forsaken me!”

Steve turned to Gareth and blinked rapidly. “Um..is he always this dramatic?”

“No,” Gareth snorted, “he’s worse.” He turned to Eddie. “Chill out you big baby. You don’t like sports and would have been miserable.”

Eddie stopped for a moment and then straightened up. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“God,” Jeff huffed, “I’d kill for a stiff drink. Have the front desk call Brian up and meet us in the bar.”

“Sounds good to me,” Eddie said, falling into step next to Steve as they walked to the bar, Gareth splitting off temporarily to get Brian to join them.

“Did you have fun?” Eddie asked, a big grin on his face.

Steve rolled his eyes and licked upper lip. “You’re the one that suggested they take me, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” Eddie said, twirling his rings. “But Jeff and Gareth loved the idea. They wanted to get a chance to know you better and this basketball game seemed like the perfect opportunity. Plus I know you’ve been feeling trapped in this town with all the bullshit that happened with your dad.”

Steve smiled up at him. “Well, I approve. It was lots of fun. The Harlem Globetrotters are known for their wacky playing style and over the top theatrics. So I was a little,” he held his finger and thumb really close together, “surprised when you didn’t want to come with.”

“I think I would’ve been more annoyed,” Eddie huffed. “Can’t stand it when people play normally, so having a group of players just fucking around and still have it be legal...no thanks.”

“Fair enough,” Steve said as they reached the bar.

They sat down at one of the tables and Gareth ordered two draft beers, one for him and one for Brian. Jeff ordered a double shot of whiskey and Eddie ordered a Manhattan.

“I’ll have a Coke and lime,” Steve said as a waiter took their order.

Eddie smiled slyly at Steve. “Good boy. I was wondering what you were going to order with my little ban on alcohol until you’re actually twenty-one.”

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes. “If I keep up this dry spell, I’ll lose my tolerance for it and lose my title as keg king.”

Jeff who had been taking a drink, did a spit take. “You were a what now?”

Their drinks arrived, so Steve was able to dodge the question for a moment longer. But he was forced to confess under the stern eye of Eddie Munson.

“Me and my friends would have chugging contests,” Steve said with a shrug. “I had the best time. Like always. But I haven’t even had a beer in literal months.”

Eddie blinked. “Wait, really? I would have thought for sure you would found someway to get a beer at least.”

Steve shook his head. “The people who still like me are kids and their parents. One of which is the Chief of Police. Yeah, I’ve been sticking clear of booze thanks.”

“Um...” Jeff said, rubbing his chin. “The hotel room is in Eddie’s name and he’s over twenty-one. You could literally order from the hotel and no one would bat an eye.”

“I just figured that fell under the umbrella of buying alcohol using Eddie’s money,” Steve said with a shrug. “So I just didn’t.”

Eddie slid over his Manhattan. “I wasn’t intended to dry you out completely. I just didn’t want you flashing that fake ID around using my credit card.”

“Oh,” Steve blushed and hid it by taking a sip of the Manhattan and he closed his eyes, letting the alcohol hit his system for the first time in months. “Yeah, I’m going to have to go easy on these otherwise you’re going to be dragging my drunk ass up that elevator.”

They all laughed.

Steve finished off the Manhattan while Eddie ordered a different cocktail. Then he went back to the Coke and lime as to pace himself.

They all talked and laughed and got to know each other better. Steve was only tipsy when they called it a night.

Eddie walked Steve to his room, not only because he was the suite across the hall, but because he wanted to make sure Steve got in okay.

“All right, little Canary,” Eddie said sternly. “What aren’t you, Jeff and Gareth telling me?”

Steve put his arms around Eddie’s neck and cooed, “What makes you think we aren’t telling you something?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “I might not know you as well as I would like, Stevie, but I know when Jeff and Gareth are leaving something out. And with you a little tipsy, I thought I’d see if I could weasel it out of you.”

“Missed you,” Steve breathed, trying to grind against Eddie’s crotch. “I’ll be super good for you.”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hips and pulled him a little bit away from his waist. “You are a treat, sweetheart, make no mistake. But you’re a little too drunk for anything other than conversation. So why don’t we get you in bed?”

Steve pouted but did as he was told. He opened the door to the hotel room and immediately started stripping his clothes off.

Eddie turned his eyes skyward, with his hands on his hips until Steve pulled up the shorts on his pajamas Eddie had gotten him his first night at the hotel. But he was grateful when Steve shimmied the top over his head, neglecting to undo the buttons.

“You look cute, Stevie,” he murmured as he came up to him, checking him out as he neared. “I thought you would. You really look good in yellow.”

Steve blushed, tugging at the hem of the top, “Thanks.”

Eddie scooped him up and carried him over to the bed, that was turned down by Rosa, like it was every night. He laid him in the bed and then tucked him in. He brushed Steve’s hair out of his face and kissed his forehead.

“Good night, little Canary,” he murmured.

Eddie moved to stand up, but Steve caught the hem of his jacket, keeping him there. He looked down at Steve and immediately his heart broke. Steve had tears in his eyes and one slid across his nose.

“Baby?”

“My dad was at the game,” Steve murmured. “We didn’t see him until after we were leaving, so we don’t know if he saw me. But that’s why Jeff and Gareth did an autograph signing, so that I could sneak past him.”

Eddie’s knees hit the floor and he was gathering Steve up in his arms from one breath to the next. “Oh, Stevie...” he whispered into Steve’s hair. “Now I understand why you guys didn’t want to tell me and I’m not mad. Well, I am but at your dad for ruining your night out. I wish I could just make him go away for you. Just *POOF* off the face of the earth.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath and then another. “But at least this means we know they’ve been staying in Indy.”

“There you go,” Eddie whispered, smoothing out Steve’s hair, “a silver lining. So we’ll make sure you get to go places other than Indy and you know what your dad likes so if there is a fun thing you want to for one of your kids like skateboarding or something that you know your dad would avoid like the plague, we still send you to those, okay, little Canary?”

Steve ran his nose along Eddie’s jaw and he shuddered with want. But he knew Steve was too drunk to do anything but sleep, so he gently untangled himself from Steve’s arms, and before he could even get to his feet, Steve was sound asleep.

“Sleep well, my little angel.”

~

Steve woke up with a pounding headache and lancing of shame down his spine. He had basically thrown himself at Eddie last night and the man had been a perfect gentleman. He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling, wallowing in his misery.

There was a gentle knock on the door and Steve forced himself into a standing position and waddled over to the door. He opened it to see Eddie on the other side, bright and cheery. Which made the pain in head throb worse.

Eddie held up a bag of McDonald’s and grinned. “I brought you best hangover cure known to man.”

Steve let him in and Eddie set the food on the table. Then he went over and started brewing a pot of coffee. He then filled a glass with water from the tap in the bathroom and handed it to Steve with two pills that were obviously ibuprofen. All this without comment or condemnation.

Steve took the painkillers with a grateful smile.

“Eat one of those Egg McMuffins,” Eddie said indicating the bag with his chin. “Then go shower. By then the coffee will have been brewed.”

“Thanks,” Steve muttered and ripped into one of the breakfast sandwiches with relish. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I behaved badly last night and I’m sorry.”

Eddie chuckled. “You were cute. But nah, I get it. You’d been dry for a couple of months there and then suddenly drinking again? Yeah, I would have been more than a little tipsy, too.”

Steve blushed and focused on his food for a moment before he said, “It was really scary seeing my dad last night, but Gareth and Jeff handled it. Better than I would have had I been alone. I really owe them.”

“I talked to them after tucking you in,” Eddie said sprawling out on the sofa. “They didn’t want to tell me because they were worried that I would forbid you from going out again. Which, I can see where they’re coming from. But I would rather know about it and plan better than not. So they agreed to tell me from now on.”

“Lucas loved hanging out with them,” Steve said, smiling around his bite of food.

Eddie chuckled. “I don’t doubt that. Jeff and Gareth had a blast, too. Jeff is talking about getting season tickets to the Pacers’ games. I told him to hold off on that for a bit to see where this goes first, but they definitely want to hang out with you more.”

Steve finished the sandwich and wiped his mouth again. “I had fun hanging out with them, too.”

“Go get your shower, little Canary,” Eddie said fondly. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get out.”

Steve got up and rummaged through his drawers for something to wear. He settled on comfort over style because even though the pain in his head was beginning to recede, it was still there throbbing behind his eyes. The shower went a long way in driving the pain further from his head so that when he got done with his routine he could walk almost normal instead of everything hurting with every move he made.

When he walked out, there was a woman arguing with Eddie. A woman he vaguely recognized. Then it hit him. Chrissy Cunningham. Their manager. The one that currently didn’t like him because he took up too much of Eddie’s time.

“You know,” he said dryly from the bathroom door, where he was leaning against it with arms crossed, “I might be only nineteen, but I at least know to talk to someone when they have a beef with me.”

Chrissy whirled around and stared at him in shock. Like she had forgotten this was his hotel room. “Steve!”

He walked up to her and huffed out a breath out of his nose. “It’s a free country the last time I checked. Eddie can spend his time and his money how ever he wants. So either suck it up or hit the road, because even I know I can’t reason him out of giving me things.”

Chrissy looked between Eddie and Steve and then sighed. “You don’t care that he’s basically your sugar daddy at this point?”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and licked his lips slowly. “Considering the alternative is living out of my car? No. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that Eddie wants to take care of me. So you know what? I’m going to let him. I like him. I enjoy spending time with him. I’m not a gold digger or whatever else you think of me. But I will enjoy it while it’s here.”

Eddie slow clapped. “He’s got a point. We get along great, we enjoy each other’s company, and I like spoiling people. Is my Uncle Wayne a gold digger because I take care of him too?”

She glared at him and then threw her arms in the air and then with a terse, “Fine!” she stormed out of the hotel room.

Eddie grinned. “Now where were we?”

Steve just threw his head back and laughed.

~

Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @wheneverfeasible @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @themoonagainstmers @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt @just-a-tiny-void

8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts @steddieislife

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate @tartarusknight @genderless-spoon

[persevereforahappyending]

A Beacon in the Dark |3|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: Talk of murder and Death

Word Count: 3.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19

Ana walked through her front door, sighing as she went to put her gun back in its compartment again. She glanced at her watch, she still had over an hour before she had to go get Caleb from school. She gave a little hum, it seemed you had been right, you had gotten her back home before Caleb got out of school.

Ana wasn’t sure if the ride back home had been better or not, she wasn’t anxious about you trying to kill her, but you dropped a lot of information on her. She knew vampires were real because she had witnessed them, she had been attacked by them. She remembered the story of the Le Domas family it had been huge news at the time, an entire family, ten people dead, plus their butler and two maids. It was something out of a horror film, the amount of blood at the scene, on top of it, the house burned down. Then the fact that the only survivor was the younger brother's wife who had just married into the family. The whole case had been suspicious from the start, Ana never imagined the truth wasn’t betrayal and greed, at least not in the way most would think, instead the truth was a demon.

Vampires were real, she had come to accept that. Now, demons were real and if she got involved with you and Grace, who knew what would end up turning out to be real. Anna wasn’t sure if she was ready to have her eyes open that much to that part of the world. Fighting supernatural monsters didn’t seem like the best course, it would probably be more dangerous than her current illegal occupation. She was intrigued though; she had been curious ever since learning about Abigail and the pay would probably be better than anything Ana could hope to find.

Before she knew it Ana was headed back out, making her way to pick up Caleb. She quickly walked down the street, much less paranoid that she was in the morning. She got there a few minutes early, like always. It wasn’t much longer before the bell rang and kids came running out of the building. Ana instantly found Caleb’s head of hair in the crowd of kids, her eyes tracked his movements as he waved goodbye to a friend and slowly made his way to Ana. When Caleb looked up, his eyes widened for a split second when they landed on Ana, as if he didn’t expect her to be there. 

Ana fiddled with the candy in her pocket, itching to pull out a sucker. She had been good ever since she got Caleb back, she was always in the same spot. She wondered what had been going through his mind all day. She told him she had a job interview and would be there, she wondered if he doubted her. She had made him promises before, only to end up letting him down. She had a second chance to make things right and she wasn’t going to screw that up, she wouldn’t disappoint Caleb again. 

She smiled as Caleb walked up to her and then they began their walk back to the apartment. “How was your interview?” Caleb asked quietly, breaking the usual silence they walked in. 

Ana opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking down at her son. Caleb continued looking forward, gripping the straps of his backpack just a bit tighter. “It went well,” Ana answered softly. Caleb whipped his head to the side, looking up at Ana. “It’s different than what I was looking for, but they seem to really want me.” 

“That’s cool.” 

Ana nodded. “They’re going to call me to let me know when I can start my…” Ana looked off to the side, quickly wracking her brain for something that sounded normal. “Onboarding.” Ana nodded to herself, quite proud of her answer, it wasn’t like she was about to tell Caleb a random stranger stalked her to offer her a job in hunting down monsters. 

Caleb nodded and they continued the rest of their walk in silence. Ana didn’t miss the small smile on Caleb’s face. She couldn’t help but smile herself, it seemed like she actually did something right. A part of Ana hoped the job worked out, as long as she could still spend time with Caleb and didn’t constantly need to cancel on him, things would be fine. It seemed like just getting a job that actually wanted her was enough to make him at least the slightest bit proud of her. 

When they got home Caleb ran off to his room, as usual. Ana took out her laptop and began applying to jobs again. She knew you and Grace made her a good offer, but Ana didn’t want to rely solely on it, she hadn’t gone on a job with you yet and if the first one didn’t work out, then she was out. She wasn’t going to risk her life or her sons' life to fight monsters. As tempting as the money was, she was prepared for it to not be worth it. 

“Mom?” Caleb asked. 

Ana closed her laptop slightly, not wanting Caleb to see the rejection emails she was deleting. They hurt a lot less now that she had the offer from you, but she still didn’t want Caleb to see that no one else wanted her. “Yeah, sweety,” Ana said, turning to the side to face Caleb. 

Caleb stood in the doorway, a folder and pencil in his hand as he shifted from foot to foot. “Can you help me with my homework?” 

Ana straightened her back she was sure her eyes lit up. This had been the first time Caleb asked her for help on his homework. Whenever she offered, he always rejected the help and said he had it. Ana knew Caleb was smart, his grades were fine but whenever he dismissed her help it seemed more like he didn’t want her help specifically, not that he didn’t need any help at all. She had watched him a few times as he’d grip his hair, staring down at the paper or constantly write something only to erase it. He still never took her up on her offer, this was the first time he came to her asking for help. 

“Of course,” Ana said instantly. She closed her laptop and pushed it to the side, so Caleb had room to set his homework. 

Caleb slowly walked forward, setting down his folder with his worksheet on top of it. Ana peek around his shoulder to see that it was math. Caleb kneeled on the floor, sitting back on his heels. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled. 

“Let’s see here,” she reached towards the paper, lifting it up slightly to get a better look. She slowly nodded to herself; it looked a little different than the math she grew up with, but it seemed mostly the same, just a different method. “Do you have a piece of scrap paper?” 

Caleb nodded before getting up and running off to his room. He came running back in a few seconds later, notebook in hand. He handed the notebook to Ana and sad down just as he had before. Ana started mumbling to herself as she started to write out the equations. 

“Okay, here,” Ana said, handing Caleb the paper with her work once she figured out how to solve the problem. 

She sat there, explaining to Caleb how she solved the equation. Caleb nodded along, seeming to understand what she was saying and then tried it on his own for the next problem. Ana watched over Caleb as he worked through equation after equation, slowly completing the worksheet. Every few equations Caleb would ask for more help in having to solve it and Ana would only have to explain how to get it started before Caleb was nodding and finishing it all on his own. 

“Thanks, mom,” Caleb said when he was all done. 

“Anytime,” she whispered. 

Caleb stuffed his worksheet in his folder then took off to his room. Ana sighed, relaxing back against the couch, all she did was help her son with homework and yet she couldn’t stop smiling. She glanced at the clock and saw it was getting late and she had yet to make dinner. She decided chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes were a quick enough meal and got to work on that. When it was all done, she called Caleb out for dinner, and he actually joined Ana at the little dining table they had. It wasn’t often Caleb actually ate dinner with her, he had the habit of taking his plate to his room. 

Towards the end of their meal Ana’s phone began to vibrate, when she glanced at her phone, she didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?” she answered. 

“An-Joey,” a voice she recognized as Grace quickly corrected. “Sorry for disturbing you so late.” 

“It’s okay, we were just finishing up dinner.” Ana didn’t miss the way Caleb kept glancing at her out of the side of his eye while he pretended to focus on his chicken nuggets. 

“I just wanted to say we have our next case.” 

“Already?” Ana had just taken a drink of water and nearly choked. She didn’t think she’d be waiting super long to hear from them again, when Grace asked to give them just one mission, she figured she’d hear from you guys soon, she didn’t think soon meant literally later that night. 

“We’ve been investigating this for a little while, but we didn’t know what the pattern was before. We have a rare opportunity coming up, one we can’t pass on.” 

“Okay,” Ana said slowly. She wondered if Grace could sound any more ominous. 

“It’s a lot to go over on the phone,” Grace sighed. She sounded exhausted, like she had been up all night. Ana didn’t know Grace well enough, but she gave the impression that she didn’t sleep much when working. “Would you be okay with meeting again tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Ana nodded. “Same time as today?” she glanced at Caleb, once she dropped him off, she’d have the whole day. 

“Yes, of course,” Grace agreed immediately. “Y/N will pick you up the same time tomorrow.” Ana closed her eyes, she didn’t hate you or anything, you were just a mystery, she didn’t like mysteries, especially when she had to sit next to them for long car rides. “Don’t worry, I told them to behave,” Grace mumbled. 

Ana couldn’t help but chuckle at that, you were a little annoying, but you weren’t too terrible, yet. “Thanks.” 

“See you tomorrow.” With that Grace hung up and Ana went back to finishing her dinner. 

“Who was that?” Caleb asked after a few minutes. 

“My new boss,” Ana answered. “Potential new boss. I’m going in to start my training tomorrow after I drop you off.” 

Caleb nodded. “Will you still be able to pick me up?” 

Ana opened her mouth, she figured they were just going to go over information tomorrow, but she didn’t know how long that would take. In any previous job she was given the bare minimum of information, only what she needed to know when she needed to know it. She assumed you and Grace were more thorough with your research and didn’t keep things hush hush. She didn’t need to go on a mission to know what the two of you did was dangerous, you all had apparently survived something supernatural before and Ana certainly knew that knowledge was power when it came to the supernatural. 

“I should be able to,” Ana said. “If for some reason my training goes longer than I expect I’ll call Mrs. Johnson.” she didn’t want to have to rely on her old neighbor but if this mission went well, she figured she might have to ask Mrs. Johnson to watch Caleb or ask her to pick him up a few days. 

Caleb silently nodded, his eyes falling to his empty plate. “Hey,” Ana whispered softly. “I’m going to do everything I can to be there on time.” Caleb nodded, then silently went to his room. 

Ana sighed, slumping back in her chair before grabbing the plates and placing them in the sink. She finished cleaning up then watched some mindless TV before going to bed. The next morning, she was up and had a breakfast sandwich ready to go before Caleb walked out of his room. 

She walked Caleb to school as usual and like the day before, as soon as the bell rang you pulled up in your Jeep. Ana barely glanced at you before flinging the door open and jumping in the passenger seat. You smiled at her, tilting your sunglasses down as you held up a coffee for her, she didn't miss the ‘Joey’ scribbled across the side in black marker. She wasn’t sure if you were trying to be an ass or not, but she appreciated that you were listening to her and only referring to her as Joey. She rolled her eyes, mumbling a small thanks as she accepted the coffee. 

“You ready to learn about our first case?” you asked. You were relaxed in the seat, resting one hand on the steering wheel as you made the familiar drive that Joey was sure you had done hundreds of times by now. 

“Do I get a hint as to what we’re dealing with?” Joey asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“No idea,” you whispered, giving her a smirk. 

“What?” Joey turned to face you as much as she could. “What do you mean you don’t know? Grace said you’ve been on this for a while.” 

“We have,” you nodded. “Sometimes we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. It’s part of the dangers of the job.” Joey sighed, she assumed you and Grace would know what you were dealing with. “We try to know as much as we can but sometimes it’s hard to determine what exactly we’re dealing with. If it’s something familiar, with a pattern, like vampire, then it’s easier. When it’s something new though,” you shook your head. “It could be anything.” 

Joey went back to staring out the windshield. She fiddled around in her pocket before pulling out a little sucker, she popped it into her mouth and ignored the side glance you shot her. The rest of the ride was filled with a comfortable silence besides the radio playing quietly in the background. 

Before she knew it you turned down the secluded street and began passing mansion after mansion. Joey truly couldn’t imagine what the people who owned those houses did. She never would have guessed Grace inherited her money through marriage and now used it for funding supernatural monster hunts, but she didn’t think any of the other rich people on the street were doing that. Finally, you pulled into the familiar driveway and almost instantly the gate opened for you. 

Joey followed you through the house and back to the same room as the day before. She could see from the outside that the house was absolutely massive, but she had only seen a small fraction of it. The house was clearly old, though well taken care of, Joey was curious what secrets it held. She would bet money that it wasn’t just a simple multimillion dollar mansion, but that Grace had more than a few secret rooms throughout the place. 

“Welcome back,” Grace greeted. “Let’s get to it.” she gestured to the other side of the room where Joey had seen the pegboard, which was even more full than the day before and there were two more boards added to the mix. 

Joey couldn’t help the way her eyes widened; you had told her you did your research, but she was seeing that herself for the first time. There were various news reports, online articles printed out, pictures of the same two people, and little handwritten notes spread across the three boards. There was also a red string connecting various papers back to the unknown man and a blue string connecting more papers to the unknown woman. 

“As a surprise to probably no one in this room,” Grace said, jumping right into things. She stood at the front of the room next to the boards. “High society people tend to be the common denominator for supernatural killings.” Joey saw you nodding along out of the side of her eye. “We’ve been tracking mysterious killings for over a year now. They’ve been hard to put together because the victim is usually some random unknown person.” 

“AKA, arm candy for one of the rich pricks,” you said. “Someone not in that life, someone-” 

“No one will miss,” Joey finished. 

“The victims are seemingly random,” Grace continued. “Men, women, various ages, it doesn’t matter. The only common factor is the way they died.” Grace reached across for something on her desk then pinned up several pictures of different victims. 

“Holy shit,” Joey said, stepping closer to the board. She narrowed her eyes at the pictures of the victims, they all looked the same, their eyes were wide open, their mouth barely parted, but their faces were pale and sunken in, like someone quite literally sucked the life out of them. 

“We’ve never seen anything like this before,” you said. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with, just that these two people,” you pointed to the man and woman. Joey had to admit both of them were unreasonably attractive, she wasn’t sure if that was a sign they were a supernatural monster though. “Show up at every party where there is a victim.” 

“Which isn’t saying much,” Grace interjected. “High society people tend to run in the same circles, very small circles.” 

“So, who are they?” Joey asked. 

“His name is Marcus Carter, a typical rich businessman.” 

“And she is Karoline Knight,” you said. “Typical trust fund girl living off daddy’s money.” 

“She goes to the functions to mingle with business partners,” Grace added. 

“Do they know each other?” Joey asked. 

“Hard to say, they must know of each other. People like this, everyone knows everyone.” 

“We’ve never seen them in person,” you said. “Based on all the footage we’ve found and anyone we’ve talked to, they arrive separately, leave separately, they never interact at the parties, and killings have happened at parties where only one was in attendance.” 

“Any chance both are killers?” Joey asked. She already knew what it sounded like when she asked but she had to ask. Killings happened at parties they were both at and at parties where only one of them was present, that couldn’t be a coincidence. 

“Doesn’t seem likely,” Grace said. “Nothing is impossible. Nothing’s indicated they’ve ever spoken; let alone they kill together.” 

“Also, the kills are the exact same,” you said. “The odds of them both being a killer is incredibly rare.” 

“So, what’s the plan?” Joey asked, crossing her arms. 

“I’m glad you asked,” Grace smiled. She moved away from the boards and back around to her desk, she opened one of the drawers and pulled out a small rectangle with gold etching for a border and perfectly handwritten calligraphy, “There’s an exclusive party Saturday,” Grace held out the item in her hand. “And you two have an invite.” 

Joey gently took the invite from Grace. She only vaguely recognized the address, she recognized the name of the street, it was a gated community, sort of like the one Grace lived in. The place was fill with multimillion dollar mansions, all bought up by billionaires, some living there full time and other using it as a vacation home. Joey had never seen an invitation like this before, whoever was throwing the party literally paid someone to hand write every single invitation and based on the one Joey was holding, they were flawless. 

“Does that work for you?” Grace asked, snapping Joey out of her thoughts. 

Joey quickly nodded. “Yeah, my son will be at his dads this weekend so no problems.” 

“Great, Y/N will pick you up a little before the party, the two of you will come back here to get ready, and you’ll be off, hopefully to catch a killer.” 

Once the plan was settled on Joey was back in the car with you, headed back to her side of town. The meeting had gone much longer than she thought, it hadn’t felt like she had been there very long but going over the research, the plan, and everything had been so interesting. Joey was a doctor, but she had never seen something like that happen to a body before, she was intrigued how this monster was killing people. 

She tried to not keep glancing at the clock when she realized it was late and she might not make it in time to pick up Caleb. She focused on grabbing another candy from her pocket then spent the rest of the car ride tapping her fingers alongside the door. She couldn’t even focus on what was playing on the radio, she had told Caleb she’d do everything she could to pick him up on time and she was most likely going to fail. She hadn’t even officially had her first day of work, it was just a debrief on her first mission, which was a trial run for her, just something to see if she actually wanted to work with you and Grace. 

Joey was brought out of her thoughts when she felt the car come to a stop. She looked around seeing they were in front of Caleb’s school, the same place you picked her up. “What are you doing?” she couldn’t help but ask. You held up your finger and a second later the school bell rang, signaling the end of day. 

Joey looked down at her lap where she was playing with the wrapper of one of her candies. You had done it again; you got her back home in time to pick up her son. She hadn’t said anything to you, she didn’t even ask you to drop her off at the school, it was just something you did. “Thank you,” she mumbled, before slipping out of the car. You gave her a soft smile, then you were off before the first student was out the door. 

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax

[katyawriteswhump]

So yeah, finally finished my eddie lives/steve gets powers S4 fix-it fic... going to get the ending up over the next 24 hours or sooner. It's all up now! Reposting the index post on the off-chance anybody is interested...

The Power of Love blurb: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

(or, lots of angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, eventual smut and happy ending)

Part 1 below cut Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Part 1/Prologue:

Prologue:

“He’s gone!” In front of the trailer, Dustin sobs, cradling Eddie’s body in his arms. “He fought like Gandalf the White then sacrificed himself like Gandalf the Grey. He was the g-greatest hero—now he’s gone.”

“No. No way.” Steve rushes to Dustin, crouches beside him. “I know CPR. I got this.”

“What?” Dustin sounds more distraught than ever, tears dripping from his nose, spattering onto all that blood. Eddie’s blood. “Steve, what’s wrong with you? He’s. Gone.”

And Robin?

She stands there like a goose. Watching as the nightmare unfolds further, beneath that evil red-lightning-cracked sky. Not only, after all they’d done, is Vecna NOT apparently dead.

Eddie blatantly IS.

Tears blur Robin’s eyes. Dustin rocks Eddie’s lifeless body to the rhythms of his sobs. Nancy Wheeler—self-contained to the point of creepiness—stands beside her, stock still. Staring. Possibly trembling, though not as bad as Robin.

Steve, however, is still in the denial phase. 

He’s gotten Dustin by the shoulders, jostling him away from Eddie. Physically dragging Dustin, then steering him toward Robin. Steve lays Eddie down flat, leans close over Eddie’s face, scrutinising for signs of life.

“Steve, you can’t help him.” Nancy sounds broken enough, reaching out. Not quite daring to touch Steve. “We’ve gotta get out of here. Let’s go.”

Robin kind of agrees with her. No way is she gonna back her up against Steve, though.

He brushes Nancy off anyhow. “I already brought two people back when I was lifeguarding. Neither were breathing. One’s heart was stopped.”

Nancy shakes her head. “The odds of even that are—”

“Christ, gimme space, Nance.”

Steve starts to administer CPR. Robin clings tight to Dustin, who clings back. She wants to close her eyes and deny any of this is happening, though… One miracle has already happened today, right?

That said, from what she’s gleaned from Dustin’s broken descriptions, Eddie’s sacrifice could’ve been the cause of said miracle. Ergo, it was not that miraculous. And possibly, all in vain. Either way, watching Steve work is killing her. He puffs into Eddie’s bloody mouth, then methodically crunches—possibly breaking—his poor ribs.

“Steve, enough!” says Nancy.

“No. I can do this.”

He squeezes Eddie’s nose, blows again into Eddie’s limp form.

“Steve, we—” Nancy gasps. Staggers back. Robin’s heart gives an actual jump.

“Eddie!” Dustin buries his fingers under his stupid little Ewok hood—was he supposed to look like an Ewok? She’s gotten no clue anymore—and throws himself forward, colliding heavily with Steve.

Robin’s witnessing her first undoubted miracle of the day.

Eddie’s eyes are open. He’s choking and spluttering blood and he’s... alive. Steve enfolds arms around him and raises him a little, tugging his collar, helping him breathe.

“I gotcha, Munson. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

The next few minutes pass in the blur. Eddie vomits out a ton of blood, which makes Robin gag too, so that’s fun. Then, shakily, with Steve’s help, Eddie rises to his feet. He’s a ghastly, greenish-white and looks… like somebody who’s just died. Which is fair enough. 

He’s still not said a word. Which is not very Eddie.

“Are we sure,” Robin whispers to Nancy, “whether Steve has actually revived Eddie or if he’s been possessed by some twisted ghoul from the Upside Down?”

Nancy replies with an exasperated glare. Steve, meanwhile, hooks Eddie’s arm over his shoulder and makes for the trailer, face set with a grim determination. Robin helps Dustin, who’s limping badly.

They struggle back through the ceiling. Back out of the Upside Down, and through the place where Chrissy was mangled to death.

“It’s astonishing I’ve not been barfing constantly the past few days,” murmurs Robin to Dustin.

Dustin sniffs, rubs his pink eyes.

They’ve just exited the trailer back home, when that earthquake shit hits the fan again. A massive, fiery fissure swallows the trailer whole.

...

Chapter 1

Eddie POV

He figures he must be in shock.

He has no clue how he got where he is—sitting on a posh couch, in some open plan fancy-pants living room. His eyes are wide open, have been for some time, yet only now is he actually beginning to really see anything, to take stuff in.

Robin is staring at him, like… 

…like I just died or something!?!

Some decidedly disturbing memories trickle back. 

Oh. Shit.

She jabs at him with an antiseptic wipe, which she’s trying to smear up and under his distressingly blood-drenched Hellfire club t-shirt. The wipe is cold and stings like a bitch.

“Uuuuh, Robin?” His throat is raw, his voice wrecked. 

“Eddie!” She springs up off the couch.

“What the heck is going on?”

 “It is you, right? You’re not possessed, or—”

“Noooo. I believe it’s lil’ old me. I… I’m goddamn confused and have a distinct memory of… choking on my own blood.” Explains the gritty gunk lining his mouth and his throat, the disgusting taste. “And then… then…” 

He’s pretty damn sure he passed.

When he tries to remember that part… Nope, his brain don’t wanna, so he’s not gonna. He sure as hell recollects the not-entirely-unpleasant memory of Steve Harrington’s mouth plastered over his, marred by yet more gargling with blood, then…

“Okay, I’m gonna take on trust you’re you.” Robin doesn’t sound convinced. “So… Henderson was adamant you were dead, but then… Uh, you weren’t. Awesome as Steve is at CPR, let's assume you never really were, or that death happens differently in the Upside Down, or you weren’t as badly hurt as it seemed, or something along those lines, because… Uh, not like I’ve looked everywhere, as I think we’ve all been violated enough today, but…” She facepalms, reddening beneath her freckles. “Sorry… prattling.  As I said, I’ve not checked you everywhere, but… Eddie, you don’t even seem that badly munched.”

“Oh,” says Eddie. “Cool?”

Robin gives him a glass of water, and he takes a sip. Wipes his mouth on a table napkin lying close then takes a glug. God, he’s never been so parched.

She settles opposite him, on another plush couch. “Does it hurt?”

Eddie puts down the empty glass and performs a brief body scan. Sticks his hand up his shirt, which comes back predictably bloody, but it’s gritty, dry blood. His wounds have pretty much knitted up. “No. Well, it’s kinda itchy. Um, Where the heck are we? This place isn’t yours.”

“No. It’s Steve’s.”

“You’re kidding?” Eddie’s voice comes out embarrassingly high pitched. “His parents see me, they’ll call the cops and—”

“Chill. His parents are out of town. They’re literally never here.”

“Where’s Steve?”

“He’s… um… He said he fancied a swim. Go figure. Hey, you hungry?”

“Maybe some cereal,” mumbles Eddie, which is bullshit, because he’s not hungry. However, he’s starting to shiver, and he’s verging on losing his shit, and… he needs something to feel normal. He might as well try chewing cereal, because right now, he’s chewing his nails like he’s back in third grade.

I died. I goddamn died. 

The glory of the Master of Puppets is way more of a distant dream than his recollections of being caught at the heart of that be-fanged whirlwind of death. That’s crystal-frickin’-clear. Those flapping fiends ripping into him, his defences faltering, his knees buckling… choking… drowning… the searing pain… and Dustin’s tears. 

Crap, Dustin!

“There you go.” Robin dumps the packet on Eddie’s lap, a bowl and milk on a nearby glass table. “They only have the boring overpriced brands.”

Eddie stares stupidly at the packet. “Dustin… Is he okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, he’s shaken. I guess we all are. Wheeler took him to get his ankle looked at. He’s… thrilled you made it. He thought you were a goner.”

Yeah. I was. I really, really was.

“Robin, how the heck am I here?”

Her mouth opens. Snaps it closed again.

The sliding doors open, and Steve steps in. Momentarily, the undiluted horror of Eddie’s recent existence evaporates. Steve looks mighty fine, dripping wet, his modesty preserved by a small-ish towel around his waist. There are scars around his throat, fresh ones piled upon the old, though really, nothing that spoils that super-hot torso…

…until he lifts the hand he’s clasped on his side, where the bats had gotten him when they went through Lover’s Lake. It’s soaked in blood. The white towel tucked beneath is slowly turning pink.

“Oh my God!” Robin launches at him, as he staggers forward, swaying slightly. “Why the hell did you think getting your wounds wet would help, dingus? There’s literally no logic there.”

“Jesus, it didn’t make anything worse. Swimming always… uh… clears my head.” She grabs him and steers him toward the seating area.

They’re almost there, when the whites of Steve’s eyes flash up. He crumples limply against Robin, who squeaks at the sudden weight, and slings him toward Eddie’s couch to break his fall.

...

Part 2

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

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