#sent three hours ago) it's back to the same bullshit. whatever

[lonesomedotmp3]

every once in a while I rerealise that my teenage self wasn't crazy/selfish/ungrateful and my parents really were just Like That

[joshslater]

Manhood Exchange

The premise is based on a story I read a while back and forgot to bookmark. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I was in a shopping mall when I got the notification on my phone. Out of habit I just tapped the icon and suddenly I got a large, erect cock filling the phone screen. I immediately became aware of where I was and had a few seconds of panic before reassuring myself that no one else saw it. I moved a few steps to somewhere less open, where no one could walk behind me, and had a look again.

It was beautiful. Massive and uncut, with the skin pulled back to expose the pink, gleaming head. Actually the entire cock glistened like he had made a few strokes with precum on his hand and then positioned himself with just the right lighting to make the veins pop a little extra. The truly remarkable part was however the overlay at the bottom of the screen. "$400, quick trade"

I'd been on the Manhood Exchange app long enough to know a cock like this is usually hundred times that price, if not more. Whatever impression you've got from watching porn, people are on a bell curve with cock sizes, and the ones on the higher end of the scale aren't selling. All the people who used to compensate with a big truck suddenly ended up in the same market, competing for the same cocks, and they make a hell of a lot more big trucks than big cocks. Oddly enough there was a market for really small cocks as well, not quite as high prices, but just as small supply. Normal people like me in the middle of the bell curve with no cash to buy and no cock to sell just had to make do.

It's not enough for a cock to just enter the market either, which itself is a thread to needle with the 18-35 eligible age span and clean health declaration. For you to find one it has to be bio-compatible for science reasons and roughly the same race for ethics reasons, though the latter is just a matter of money. Obviously I tapped the "Deal!" button in the app before I even checked out his profile. With that kind of cock everyone would know you either had a shit ton of money, or you could get it by selling. The profile didn't add much though. Just more good-looking images of him and his cock. A text message function as well, but was there really anything to talk about?

You'd think I'd be a bit more careful swapping cock with another man, especially since you can't swap again until all the cells have been replaced because of some quantum spin entanglement bullshit. Ten years with bad meat is a long wait, but I already knew he was a bio-match and healthy, so it was more Fear Of Missing Out. I had some shit I hope I could fence, so I took an instant online loan and had the whole deal closed before I'd passed Baskin Robbins on the way out. Both I and my normal size cock were excited.

Just ten minutes later the phone chimed again with a proposed time for the swap at 7:20 pm, almost three hours away. Though I didn't know anything about this less than an hour ago, any delay felt too long, like I hadn't realized how much I wanted this. What it would mean for my position in the crew. Every minute of waiting was a minute where something could derail everything. My phone could be stolen. The exchange could cancel it for some reason. I tapped "Accept" and headed home with the phone in a secure grip in my pocket.

The instructions after I had accepted were straightforward. Be seated with a naked crotch and open the app ten minutes before the scheduled time for exchange. I decided to be pantsless until then just to be safe, and I set three alarms on the phone. One at 6:50 to sit down, if I wasn't already sitting, one at 7:05 to be ready, and one at 7:09 to open the app. I sent a text to Shawn and told him I wouldn't be joining the crew until later, if at all. No details of why.

Then I just sat down in the comfy chair. Three hours to go. I was only wearing my hat, socks, and T-shirt. And my bling of course. The sweatpants and my trunks were in a pile on the floor, and the phone was charging next to me. My cock was pointing almost straight up.

I realized that it would only be my cock for another few hours or so, and I should say goodbye properly. Normally I would jerk off in the shower or in front of the computer, but since I was already perfectly seated and with an erect cock in front of me I just grabbed it and started to remember all the highlights we'd had. When my neighbor Jamar excited came over and wanted to show me something. He was a few years older, but still occasionally spent some time with me. He showed me into the bathroom, lowered his pants, and told me to do the same. Then he showed me that by pulling on his cock he could get it to "bend" in his words. I remembered waking up one early morning with my boxers wet and worried I'd peed my bed. To my surprise they were filled with slime, but just to be safe I put them under the bed to dry so my mother wouldn't know. I remembered that time I got an erection during a movie screening, and slowly wanked but desperately trying to avoid cumming or anyone else noticing what I did.

I remembered the first time I had sex, the first porn I jerked off to, the first time a date ended in sex, the first time I had sex in a car, the first time I jerked off to a porn video on my mobile. All while doing this I tried to go as slow as I could, like at the movie. Flashing before me were dates, partners, and porn stars, while the top of my cock had some frothy pre-cum. I was shocked when the alarm went off. How the fuck could time have moved that fast. I scrambled to get hold of an old T-shirt within reach, and pretty quickly came into it with a few pumps of cum. Not really the satisfying climax I had envisioned.

Suddenly time was moving slowly again, and I was stuck watching dried off, limp cock in front of me. I became self-conscious about how it looked, worried about if the seller would cancel the trade last minute seeing what a lousy deal it was for him. He'd seen my photos already though, but they were taken erect and with good lighting. What was the cancellation policy anyway? The next alarm went off. Why did I even set that one? I was getting nervous. What if it hurt? There was a lot of news about misteleportations some years ago, and this was way more complicated. I didn't even understand how it worked. I knew the basics of standard teleportation from school. Every particle is a probability wave that exists everywhere, but the probability of it actually being at a specific point is overwhelming. By manipulating the quantum state you can poke the probability so that it is more likely to be somewhere else. Just a change in probability, so it can move instantaneously anywhere in the universe, given enough math. Swapping body parts between people was way harder, so it was bound to have lots of issues that could happen.

The last alarm interrupted my train of thought. I kind of felt not ready. Rich people did this, so it should be safe to do I reasoned, and tapped the activation button on the phone.

"This will start a legally binding contract with Manhood Exchange Incorporated adjudicated in the state of Delaware. Please identify yourself." the phone voice said. I pressed the white circle on the screen with my identification finger, the middle one of course.

"Please sign that you are aware that concluding this transaction will replace your penis, testicles, prostate, and relevant connecting tissue, glands, and other structures with a third party as preliminary agreed." I pressed the circle again, wondering what would happen if I didn't. The $400 would certainly be gone.

"Please sign that you are aware that this is a one-time transfer option with Manhood Exchange Incorporated that cannot be reversed through quantum transplantation." I pressed the circle a third time.

"Please sign that you are aware that both set of testicles will be made infertile through this swap." I pressed the circle a fourth time, not so nervous I barely registered what I had signed. The screen of the phone changed to showing a live video from my selfie camera, showing me half-naked in my lounge chair. "Tap to connect" it said on the screen. I did.

The image quickly changed to show the man from the photos lying down in a white, far more upscale couch than I was sitting in. "Yo, man. You ready to do this?" he asked. His erect cock was just as big as it had looked on the photos, almost looking bigger as it was swaying with his breathing. The instructions on the screen said "Verify the other party is the selected exchange party and that he is seated with exposed crotch."

"Yeah, let's do it." I said, and tapped the Verified button on the screen. I could see from his motions that he did the same, and a timer started on the screen, counting down to 7:20. "So, will it fit in speedos?" I blurted out, still feeling nervous and with several minutes to kill. He chuckled. "Shorts are better for swimming, but you want some tight trunks to keep it in place when you're wearing normal clothes. I use compression shorts a lot."

"Well, you can use whatever with mine."

The last 40 seconds we just stared at the countdown in silence. The actual swap was instant, almost silent, though I wouldn't be able to describe the sound, and without any shimmers of light as you can sometimes see when teleporting. It felt like someone spilled warm water over my crotch, though that quickly went away, but it was replaced with the most amazing, intense horny hardon I've ever felt. It was like the cock was buzzing, craving attention. "Enjoy the wank" the other guy said. "What? Oh. Thanks!" I said and the video was closed from his side.

I grabbed the cock with my hand and instantly felt the difference in size. It was almost the size of my wrist. I just moved my hand up and a trickle of precum oozed out and trickled down over my fingers. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and continued where I had left off, thinking about the most recent porn videos, and in not too long I could feel the buildup of a climax, only this time I was unable to force it back. It just kept building and building, and I think I actually moaned out loud as the first rope of cum erupted. Then another one, and another one. Then I had to open my eyes to look at the mess, and it wasn't any small squirts of cum either. It looked almost comical how my T-shirt was completely soaked in cum, and I was still pumping out a few more ropes.

To my amazement the cock was still semi-erect. I got up and hurried to the bathroom and threw the cum-wet T-shirt. After a quick look at my sticky chest I decided to have a shower. I stripped out of the few remaining items I had on and proceeded to have another wank in the shower. This one lasted a bit longer and produced slightly less cum, but it was still a shocking amount.

I had barely dried and put on my underwear before the new cock started to firm up again. I grabbed the phone and sent a text to the seller in the app. "What the hell is happening with my cock? Were you always hard?"

The app sat silent for a few minutes until a response chimed. "It's called hyperspermia. It's a genetic condition, so not a disease in Manhood Exchange's definition. You'll learn to cope several hours between wanks. It was the precum that bothered me the most. Just drink a lot of water, always wear a condom, and compression shorts really help, as I said. Good luck!"

[remyfire]

caught masturbating, any ship 👀

Kink Writing Prompts (no edits, we write smutty one-shots like MEN 🫡) (Hawk/Trap btw, and thank you!!)

There's a chill in the air tonight, not quite driving everybody to absolute misery, but just biting enough that a couple of hours ago, Hawk helped John roll down the flaps on the tent with fingers that ached without their gloves.

Honestly, though? It's kind of nice. Like being tucked in a blanket fort back home under the dining room table. If John closes his eyes, he can almost feel Cathy and Becky there, curled up with a bowl of popcorn, whispering and giggling and—

The pang comes. The agony. John huffs as he rubs the bridge of his nose and kicks out a leg over the edge of his cot. It's not his first fucking war, but it's the one that's eating at him the most. Keeps thinking he's gonna get used to it, and then here comes another punch in the gut in one way or another—a shitty string of patients in OR, a hungry orphan, a whiff of perfume from one of the nurses that smells just like Louise.

There's a couple of ways he can go about shutting his head off tonight. One, he waits for Hawk to get done with his post-op shift and they go hunting nurses. Two, he just leans over and grabs some gin and gets the party started early. Three, he goes sauntering around camp until he finds a taste of heat that chases all the longing away by himself.

He could say that he knows why he's waiting for Hawk, ooooooor he can just casually pretend he doesn't.

It's kind of like making tea instead of settling for the bullshit they call coffee in the mess tent. Setting the scene. Getting his mug ready, whatever bag he wants from the most recent box Louise sent his way in her care package. Sprawling out lazily while he listens to the water begin to stir. The tickling of the bubbles, the rising heat, the anticipation. Knowing that even when the kettle begins to whistle, the tea's still gonna have to steep good and slow, color blooming in the water in dizzying swirls, long before he'll ever take that first hot, bitter sip onto his tongue.

John's not a fancy guy, but his lips twitch all the same at his mind's wanderings right now. Listen to him. He keeps this up, somebody's gonna start thinking he's like those classy Boston types—the ones who look at guys like him and sneer 'cause they think they know everything that John McIntyre is with a single glance.

These few months have been the scene-setting, he thinks. The kettle's been heating. Inside, it's starting to sweat. Every time he and Hawk lock eyes in OR, each moment their shoulders brush when they're tight in a Jeep, the temperature's been rising. This silent sense of waiting to see which one of them is gonna flinch forward first.

Honestly, he's not sure what Hawk's been waiting on—he's as bent as some fucking Hohmann retractors. Hell, John would've gone for it ages ago if he didn't enjoy the tension as much as the release.

Speaking of tension...

Why not?

In the name of chasing off the ache with an appetizer before the main course, he tugs his glove off with his teeth and lets it drop on his chest, then spits in his palm. Maybe later on, he and Hawk'll split a nurse, and John'll take his time good and slow just so he can tease Hawk for letting go too fast, watch him flush as he grins and tries to find his words to shit talk him right back. Now? He's just gonna take the edge off.

Without a hint of shame, he shoves his pants and boxers down around his thighs. The flaps are down. Hawk's in post. Frank's off with Margaret, no matter what his shitty little excuse was. Anybody walks in here without a knock, it's their own fault what they see.

He's got a million fantasies to choose from, but the problem with thinking about Hawkeye is he's bound to swim straight to the surface. He's a little piece of work, isn't he? Pretty eyes and a soft mouth and long fingers, shoulders that are begging to be pinned down, tiny fucking legs that ought to be held against his chest while he's getting pounded. He's got these incredible noises he makes too, so many that almost sound like perplexed questions, like he needs permission to feel the pleasure that makes them bubble out of him in the first place.

As John works at himself, he chews on his bottom lip and lets out a ragged breath. Fuck, it really doesn't take much with somebody like Hawk. All he has to do is think about him pressing his hands into the wall, peeking over his shoulder, lashes low and coquettish as he arches his back. Or, God, no, maybe Hawk grabbing him by the shirt and throwing him down in the dentist chair, pinning him there with a hand on his belly while he yanks John's pants down and sucks him straight down to the hilt with a groan. Shit, the thought of being mouth to mouth with him in the pitch black darkness of supply, the heat of their breath tickling each other's lips as they jerk each other off hard and fast until Hawkeye starts to whine and John has to muffle him with a palm tight around his jaw—

The door creaks. A rush of wind. And John turns his head to see a wide pair of blue eyes, almost hidden under windswept black bangs.

The kettle, it seems, has come to a boil.

John bites back the urge to moan, but he can't stop himself from fucking up into his fist. "You wanna give the whole compound a show?" he growls.

Hawkeye darts in and all but slams the door behind him. "Jesus, Trap," he murmurs, thick as molasses.

"Ain't you supposed to be in post-op?" Maybe he should stop. Check in. Anything. But as he twitches in his grasp, another bead of precum slicking his grip, he also reminds himself that Hawk could've just walked right back out that door.

"Yeah, Henry needed..." Hawkeye won't stop staring at his cock. He takes a step forward, then shies back again, turning his head slightly even though his eyes stay right where they are, goading John to all but strip his cock from how fast he's jerking it. "H-He, uh, I'd forgotten to grab..."

Of course this would be how it happens, something this fucking random, Hawk looking like he's died and gone to heaven while John goads him on. He can't help but smirk. "Cat got your tongue, honey?" he teases breathlessly. "Shame. Could'a used that someplace else."

There it is, that punched-out groan, curved up just so right at the end. Hawk grabs the front of his own shirt, twisting it into a fist. He takes another step forward, then sits on the edge of his cot. "I-I've really gotta..."

John can see it, the wave of hunger all but overwhelming his bunkie, his sense of goddamn duty the frail dam that's holding it at bay. "You better get back," he breathes.

Hawkeye meets his gaze, sharp as a dagger. There's one, two, three seconds of searing contact before he licks his lips. "Do it. C'mon, Trap, let me see it."

"Fuck..." John tips his head back with a groan, letting the fire overtake him. "Yeah, you want it, Hawk?"

"Right fucking now, Trap, I don't have time for this."

Little fucking brat. John's so far gone for him. He bucks off the bunk with a sharp moan, doesn't give a shit about how he paints his shirt in his release. He rides it out, stroking himself until it hurts, until he's shivering in the thin sheet with a satisfied grin.

When he rolls his head to the side and opens his eyes, Hawk looks almost pissed, he's so focused on him. John's smile widens. "I'll see you after your shift, huh?"

Hawkeye takes a deep breath. He shoves something in his pocket, then gets to his feet, comes across the room, and reaches for him. John half thinks he's gonna pull him up for a kiss, but no. Hawkeye grabs his wrist and sucks his slick fingers into his mouth. John sits up with a punch of oversensitized agony in his gut, groaning as he watches Hawk clean the cum off his digits.

Hawkeye gives him one last look before he darts back out of the tent, leaving John boneless, pleased, and counting the seconds.

[troglobite]

i’m trying to unpack why it makes me immediately furious to hear my mom groaning or whining in pain

two events have recently caused that, one happening rn

this past week she got her bivalent booster (bc she finally could after having covid a few months ago) 

i was absolutely happy to help and do whatever she needed, and i said as much multiple times. just text me if you need help.

she asked me directly for help maybe twice in 3 days. every other thing she just suffered alone in her room, or got up to do things that hurt her. 

that makes me mad. i’m sick of her needlessly hurting herself for some stupid fucking bullshit that either doesn’t matter or that i could do instead. 

every year she sends out these fucking holiday packages to friends, family, and coworkers. it’s not fun for her at all. she doesn’t enjoy it. she spends so much money ordering the same gifts each year. she goes through the hassle of personalizing each package (there are over 20). then she pays for postage and shipping. 

and she did it while her body hurt from the booster this week and i’m just like. WHY. if your back is killing you, you’re tired, like WHY?!

she “had” to get them done so they arrived by christmas for most ppl.

and again, WHY?! these are not incredible one of a kind gifts. it’s the same shit she gives every year. and i’m sure some of them arrived later than christmas before. like. WHY?!

if someone i knew typically sent something out each year and i didn’t get it one year, i’d check in w them and see how they were doing. i wouldn’t give a single fucking shit if their little annual gift to me didn’t arrive. 

but no, my mom has to bend over backwards and get this shit done bc?????? Reasons. 

and right now she’s doing my least favorite thing of hers. 

so cardboard boxes have been piling up in the hallway (bc this house is small and fucking sucks) and there’s not much room in the garage but in order to put them in our recycling, they have to be broken down. i can’t do it bc the sound and texture of cardboard makes me want to fucking perish. so she unfortunately has to do it. but she doesn’t want to. bc it’s time and energy consuming. i have said that i could help, but i would need to wear my headphones and some gloves. 

well. 

today she was going to go pick up some new end tables she ordered. 

her lifelong friend who moved here last year to be closer to us (and away from ohio) was going to go with her to pick them up. i don’t really know why it wasn’t an option for me to go and help? but it just wasn’t, i guess. 

but now she’s been spending the last three or four hours cleaning the entire house and moving the boxes into the garage and just cleaning EVERYTHING.

bc her lifelong friend who has seen her through both of their own messy relationships and divorces and a million other things is going to be inside our house. for. 15 minutes???

so she’s wheezing and huffing and puffing and agitated and running around and just in a fucking frenzy.

WHY?!!?!?!

SHE’S KNOWN YOU FOR LIKE 45 FUCKING YEARS.

SHE DOESN’T FUCKING CARE STOP DOING THIS

and she becomes INTOLERABLE when she’s like this and doing this. 

i’m hungry. i have been awake for 1.5 hrs. i missed my 15 minute window to get food while she was in the shower.

i offered to open the garage door for her while she moves boxes around.

she just said it would be “too hard” so she’s INSISTING she do it on her own.

she just made some of the worst fucking noises in the hallway outside my room rn. boxes scraping. all this shit. and there she goes, wheezing and huffing and puffing.

but god forbid she ask for help 

but mainly forbid SHE JUST NOT DO THIS FUCKING SHIT BECAUSE WHO ACTUALLY FUCKING CARES?!! NOBODY!!!!!! NOBODY GIVES A SINGLE FUCKING SHIT!!!!!!!!!!

i SHOWED her that gayle video “company’s coming over” YEARS ago. she laughed like haha that’s me. 

and i’m like

yeah, it is.

and it makes no sense

this isn’t even an exaggeration 

she’s going to fold all of the blankets on the couch that we use every day and move the pillows all around

“WE CAN’T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE SIIIIIIIT!!!!!!!” but LITERALLY in REAL LIFE. THAT IS WHAT SHE DOES.

i’m so tired of seeing a million reasons she needs to go to therapy (this is so far down the list and only related to a few things at the top of the list) and not being able to say or suggest anything bc she’ll see it as an insult.

which is super kind to me, a person who has been in therapy off and on since i was like 9 years old. 

i went to sleep early last night bc i was so exhausted. i slept forever. i woke up 1.5-2 hrs earlier than i have been. i was feeling good.

and ever since i’ve woken up she’s just been doing this fucking useless completely unnecessary and EXTREMELY FUCKING LOUD AND IRRITATING bullshit, and i haven’t been able to do anything.

and then i got up to check and i have to send out like 35 more emails for the job she gave me that, again, I DIDN’T EVEN WANT TO DO IN THE FIRST PLACE, bc nobody else has responded since i sent the emails on tuesday and wednesday. and i need to DOUBLE the responses i’ve gotten. 8 ppl for this one campaign from over 40 emails that i sent. so i need to send 30-40 MORE emails. i’m just. 

and i can’t do that.

bc if i TRIED rn, i would be HUNGRY bc i haven’t been able to get ANY FOOD YET bc she has been NEEDLESSLY CLEANING THE FUCKING KITCHEN

AND i wouldn’t be able to focus AT FUCKING ALL bc even with my noise canceling headphones on, I WOULD STILL BE ABLE TO FUCKING HEAR HER. 

i’m just so fucking tired

i HATE having these family friends over PURELY BECAUSE IT MEANS MY MOM JUST LOSES HER ENTIRE GRIP ON REALITY FOR MULTIPLE HOURS AND I HAVE TO SUFFER THROUGH IT BC SHE WON’T EVEN LET ME HELP IN ANY WAY

it’s so fucking stupid and i hate this

[cosmicjoke]

Chapter 2:

Levi digs his thumb into his right eye, his bad eye, uselessly trying to press out the pain beginning to form in a burning cluster behind it.

He’s exhausted.

There’s a woman in his shop. The only customer left after the afternoon rush. If you could even call it that. He never got more than three or four people at a time in his shop, which was why he’d ignored Falco’s suggestion that he hire an extra employee to help him around the place. With so few people to serve at any one time, Levi hadn’t been able to justify the extra expense to himself.

He wishes, now, that he’d listened to the boy.

He wants desperately to close the shop early so he can go to the back room, where it’s cooler, turn off all the electric lights, put a cold cloth against his head and lay down.

But he can’t, because this woman…

She’s been here all afternoon, and she’s done nothing but give him shit since she came in.

Twice already, she’s complained that her order of tea wasn’t brewed right, and sent him back to make her a new one. Levi had had to focus all his effort on swallowing his tongue and not telling her to fuck off. There wasn’t much he was certain of. Even less he could pride himself on. But knowing the proper way to brew a tea was one of them.

But what the hell was it Onyankapon told him that time, about the proper way to run a business? How you had to do all you could to please the customer, even when they were wrong? The customer was always right, or some fucking bullshit like that.

So Levi tried, because this shop was all he had, and he didn’t want to lose it because he couldn’t control his temper.

This woman though was testing the limits of his patience.

She’s calling at him again, trying to catch his attention.

He’s trying to ignore her, staying focused on wiping down the front counter, trying to swallow past the threatening nausea beginning to tighten his throat with the growing headache.

His leg already started aching viciously an hour ago, the sharp, shooting pain snaking up into his hip, and now it was beginning in his lower back, a dull, kneading throb.

He wishes Gabi and Falco were here. He needs their help.

“Excuse me!” The woman’s voice raises, refusing to be ignored. “Boy! I’m talking to you!”

Boy… She kept calling him that.

Levi was going to be 40 years old in less than six months. He doesn’t think this woman is any older, though her bitter, pinched face is reflective of her shit fucking personality.

She’s shockingly rude. Levi is aware how some might call it ironic, him calling another person rude. So many have accused him of the same. But it’s testament, he thinks, to just how much this woman is, if even he’s taken aback by it.

She’s snapping her fingers at him now, trying to draw his attention, and Levi knows he can’t just keep ignoring her.

He sighs, dropping the rag in his hand, closing his eyes a moment to try and brace himself for whatever complaint she’s going to lodge this time.

Another, long second, and he grabs his cane, leaning against the counter, his grip around the wooden handle too tight as he makes his way around, out onto the floor of the shop.

The pain in his leg and hip pulsates and flares with each step he takes.

He catches how the woman rolls her eyes and shakes her head at his slow progress toward her. He doesn’t think it’s an accident that he catches her muttered words as he draws nearer.

“So damned slow…” she’s saying, and Levi shoves down the embarrassment he feels, clenching his jaw and holding tighter still to his cane.

“What?” He asks when he’s close enough, not bothering to cover his own irritation.

“What?!” She has the nerve to look offended at his tone, her face twisting in disdain. “You really need to ask me? It’s this tea. It’s still not brewed properly.”

Levi sighs, shaking his head.

“It is.” He tells her, unable to bear it any longer. “Maybe you just don’t like that flavor.”

“Excuse me? Are you trying to tell me I’m wrong?”

“Yeah.” He answers. “You’re wrong. I’ve been makin’ this tea almost my whole life. I know what it’s supposed to taste like, and it tastes like it’s supposed to. You just don’t like it, I guess. So you can order somethin’ else if you want.”

The woman scoffs.

“What I want is my money back.” She sneers.

A lick of fresh agitation twinges in Levi’s chest. This woman has already lost him a profit by demanding a second, then third cup while only paying for one. And now she wanted her money back altogether.

His gaze drops down to the cup in front of her. The tea is nearly gone. Only a small amount remains at the bottom.

If she hated it so much, he doesn’t think she would have drunk the whole damn thing.

“What are you staring at?” She snaps at him suddenly, drawing his eyes back to her face. She’s glaring at him with open repulsion. “Didn’t I just tell you to give me a refund? So, what are you waiting for?”

Levi bites the inside of his cheek, his teeth grinding together to keep the words from coming up his throat.

He just wants to get rid of this lady. He wants to go lie down.

“Fine.” He says, resigned.

“I have to say,” she starts again as he bends, reaching for the cup and saucer, not wanting to have to make any extra trips back to the table once he gets rid of her. “I’ve never experienced such horrible service. This is what I get for listening to my friends.”

Levi ignores her. Or at least, he tries to. The pain behind his bad eye is worsening, his vision, for a moment, doubling, as the woman’s voice drones on. His fingers close around thin air as he grabs for the cup and saucer, and he realizes he’s misjudged the distance again. His depth perception has been fucked ever since getting caught in that thunder speak explosion. He doesn’t know where things are any more.

The woman just keeps talking, her voice caustic and grating, and Levi tries again to grab hold of the cup.

He feels his knuckles bump into the still warm porcelain, hears the soft clatter of the cup knocking over against the saucer.

There’s a sharp gasp, and then the woman’s voice cuts off. Levi blinks, sees he’s knocked the cup over in his clumsiness, the dregs of the tea spilt over onto the table.

A beat of silence, and suddenly the woman’s voice comes rushing back in, pitched higher and abruptly louder.

“Y-you idiot!” She screeches. “You clumsy idiot! Look what you’ve done!”

Levi blinks again. His vision is still doubling on him, the throbbing behind his eye shifting into something more acute. He tastes bile on the back of his tongue and thinks, for a horrifying moment, that he’s going to throw up.

He stares, transfixed, at the small amount of amber liquid as it flows slowly toward the edge of the table.

“Well don’t just stand there! Clean this up!” The woman’s voice breaks into his dazed paralysis. “You horrible, ugly little man! What, are you deaf on top of being a cripple? Look! You’ve gotten it all over me!”

Levi shakes his head, trying to clear his sight, to jostle his thoughts back into place.

“I… I’m sorry.” He stammers, confused. Why is this woman here, yelling at him? “I’m sorry, I’ll…”

“I knew this was a bad idea. All of your kind are useless. Damned filthy Eldian’s…”

Levi swallows against the bitter tang in his mouth, thoughts all jumbling together. The pain in his head is getting unbearable. His eyes burn.

“I’m sorry.” He says again, and his voice comes out wavering. “I’ll… I’ll fetch something to clean with…”

“Yes, you do that. Idiot. Is your brain as slow as you are?”

Levi grips his cane, white knuckled, and begins to turn away. The kitchen. He needs to go get a rag to wipe up this mess. He needs…

He turns too quickly. The room tilts and falls off its axis. He stumbles, listing to the side as the wave of dizziness crushes down on him. He tries to catch himself along one of the tables, his hand reaching out. But he misjudges the distance, again, feels the tips of his fingers just brush the tables edge. And then the floor and table are rushing up toward him, too quickly for him to react. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he’s falling.

The edge of the table that he’d missed with his hand connects, hard, with his temple, the floor smashing against his face. His vision goes white in both eyes, and he’s blind, a sharp, piercing ring in his ears. Pain blossoms and drowns him. There’s the taste of copper in his mouth, washing over his tongue. Blood down his throat. Or, no… up. Up his throat. He’s coughing up blood. The smell of burning air fills his nostrils. Death and blood and sizzling flesh.

And through the ringing, he hears someone scream. A desperate, raw cry of fear.

“Connie! Connie, wake up!”

Connie?

No, Connie, he… he was going to be killed. He was going to be eaten. Eaten by a titan. He was going to die.

Levi can’t… he can’t let him die. He can’t.

Move, he thinks. Move, you pathetic, useless sack of shit. Move. Save him!

He grasps for the triggers of his gear. Squeeze. Squeeze the triggers. Hurry! Forget the weakness in your hands. Hurry, hurry! Connie is going to be eaten by a titan!

//

It takes Gabi a moment to realize what she’s looking at.

She and Falco had discussed it earlier, deciding to skip out on the rest of school for the day. They’d both seen Levi at breakfast earlier. The way he’d zoned out, the way he sometimes did. Getting trapped in some memory of the past, they figured, though Levi never really spoke much on it. But, whenever he had days like that, she and Falco felt concerned enough to make him their priority. Mr. Levi always argued against it, of course. Insisted he was fine. But Gabi knew better, and so did Falco. It wasn’t that Levi was particularly proud or anything. He really wasn’t. Especially considering what a hero he was. It was more just that he didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, or what he thought of as a burden. He hated the idea of Gabi and Falco spending too much time with him, when he said they should be out “living their lives, instead of worrying about a stupid old man.”. Those were his words. Gabi always scolded him for talking about himself like that.

But he had spells sometimes, and would get lost and confused, sometimes agitated. Sometimes it could lead to him accidentally hurting himself.

So, the two of them discussed it, and decided they should head to the shop to help Levi close up, and then they could take him home and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening together.

Levi would give a half-hearted show of complaint, they knew. But they both also knew he secretly enjoyed having them around, and would be pleased for their company.

She and Falco had pushed open the shop’s front entrance and walked in on what seemed the tale end of a customer yelling at Levi. The woman’s words were, for a moment, lost to Gabi under the harsh and ugly tone of her voice. She recognized it too easily. The hostility and hatred of it. She’d been on the receiving end of that kind of attitude more times than she could recall. People who hated her for an accident of her birth.

And then the woman’s words clarified, and Gabi’s own anger had erupted in her chest in a vicious snarl.

“… All your kind are useless. Damned filthy Eldian’s…” she’d said, and then Levi had begun to fumble, muttering out a shaking apology that had sounded all wrong coming from him, his voice confused, almost frightened. Overwhelmed. Everything had happened so quickly then, as he’d continued to speak, saying something about cleaning some mess up, going to get something to clean with. The woman had kept berating him, oblivious to the distress she was causing him, and then Gabi had watched as Levi had turned, and lost his balance. She’d seen him try to catch himself along one of the tables, only he’d missed, and the dull crack of his face colliding with the tables edge instead had filled her heart with horror, the same for the way he'd crumpled like a broken puppet to the floor then.

“MR. LEVI!” She cries now, her body suddenly coming to life, and then she’s moving without needing to think, running to his aid, Falco right behind her.

“Oh, please,” the woman starts, standing from the table. Gabi stops, staring back at her, wide eyed with fury, disbelieving of her cruelty. For a moment, her anger makes her forget herself, forget Levi in need of help, and she steps toward the woman, right in her face.

“What the fuck if your problem, you stupid bitch!?”

“Excuse me!?” The woman says, startled, her own eyes going wide as Gabi grabs her by the collar of her shirt. “G-get your hands off of me!”

“You piece of shit! I oughta’ pound your face in!”

“Gabi! Forget her, Mr. Levi needs help!” Falco’s voice behind her startles her from her rage.

The idiot woman’s face is fat and red with fear, eyes bulging as Gabi gives her one, hard shake.

“Get the hell out of here, you nasty bitch. And you better not fucking come back!”

Gabi guesses it works, because the woman doesn’t need to be told twice, stumbling back as soon as Gabi lets her go. She grabs her bag up from the table and scurries toward the exit, muttering something about reporting the shop for mistreatment of customers, but Gabi can’t be bothered to listen, turning back to Falco and Levi.

Falco has Levi turned over on his back, his head resting in his lap. Gabi can already see a nasty cut alongside where he hit his temple on the table’s edge, deep, ugly bruising and swelling already starting to form around it. His teeth are bloody, like he got hit in the mouth too. She thinks that must have been when he hit the floor.

He’s muttering something, his hands half-held above him, his fingers seeming to grasp for something which isn’t there. His cane lies dropped and forgotten a few feet away.

Something terrible and suffocating grips hold of Gabi’s throat then. It closes up on her suddenly, her eyes at once beginning to burn sharply.

“Oh, God, is he…”

“He… he’s having one of his episodes, I think. He keeps muttering Connie’s name.” Falco tells her. “We… we should move him to the back. He’s got that mattress back there that he sometimes takes naps on, right?”

Gabi nods.

“Yeah.”

“Can you help me lift him? I… I don’t think he can walk, or… I don’t know. Mr. Levi? Can… can you hear me? It’s me, Falco.”

Levi’s one, good eyes shifts up to Falco’s face, but he doesn’t seem to recognize him, staring glassy and confused.

“Connie…” he murmurs again. Gabi sees Falco’s face contort for a moment, stricken as he shakes his head.

“N-no, Mr. Levi, it’s me, Falco. You know, Falco.”

Levi blinks, and Gabi feels her heart ease from her throat a little as his gaze seems to clear some.

“… Falco.” He breaths.

Falco nods, a watery smile breaking out over his lips.

“Th-that’s right. A-and Gabi’s here too. You… do you know where you are, Mr. Levi?”

“Falco…” Levi visibly swallows, the action appearing painful for him. “… why aren’t you in school?”

Gabi lets loose a relieved laugh, and Levi’s eye drops back down, searching a moment before finding her.

“Hiya, Mr. Levi.” She waves at him. He only blinks at her, still lost, and Gabi’s smile fades.

“I’m just… I need to…” he starts after a moment, and suddenly he’s trying to sit up, out of Falco’s lap. Falco takes hold of his shoulders, forcing him to lye back again.

“W-woah, Mr. Levi, wait. You… you need to stay still for a moment. You hit your head when you fell.”

This only seems to confuse Levi more.

“… Fell?” He asks, voice slightly slurred, and whatever relief Gabi felt seems to vanish in an instant. “… I… what?”

“Y-you fell Mr. Levi. We… we saw. That woman, she was yelling at you. Don’t worry, I made her leave.” Gabi tries, coming to kneel beside him and Falco. “You lost your balance, remember?”

Levi shakes his head, his face twisting into a pained grimace, and he reaches a hand up, fingers touching gingerly against the contusion along his temple.

“I was… sh-she… the t-tea spilt. She wanted her money back. I…”

“Shh, Mr. Levi, it’s okay.” Falco says gently. “Forget all that now. We want to get you to the back so you can lie down on your mattress and relax. Do… do you think can walk?”

Levi swallows again, and Gabi thinks he looks too pale, all of a sudden, even as he mutters out a yes, and tries once more to push himself up.

Falco tries to help him, supporting him by the shoulders. He’s only up for a moment before Gabi sees his eyes go wide, and a second later, Levi leans over, throwing up onto the floor.

“Sh-shit…” he mutters, holding the back of his hand to his mouth. Gabi sees it’s shaking, his forehead broken out in a sweat, and for a moment, a feeling of panic grips her chest.

“O-okay. That’s okay.” Falco tries.

“… Don’t… don’t let nobody s-see…” Levi stammers. “Shit, I… I fucked it all up.”

“No you didn’t Mr. Levi.” Gabi says, and she turns away, wiping at her eyes. She hates seeing Levi like this. Hates seeing him struggle like this.

“Yeah, don’t… don’t worry about that Mr. Levi.” Falco says. “We’ll clean that up. Here, just, let us help you to your feet and we’ll get you laid down.”

Gabi moves to Levi’s other side, taking hold of him by the elbow, as Falco does the same, and together, they count to three before hauling him up to his feet.

He’s unsteady, nearly falling back to his knees, but Gabi manages to duck her shoulder under his chest and keep him upright, still gripping his elbow.

Honestly, she thinks she might be able to carry him all the way to the back by herself, if she really had to. He’s so small, and he doesn’t weigh as much as he used to, she knows. He said he used to be about 143 pounds. But now he’s closer to 120, maybe even less, if the ease with which she rights him is any indication.

But she knows that would be humiliating to him, so she just keeps hold of him on one side, Falco on the other, and together, they make their slow way to the back room, matching their pace to Levi’s as best they can.

Eventually they make it, and Levi lets out a pained grunt as they help settle him on the mattress. He won’t look at either of them.

“… I’m sorry.” He mutters after a moment.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” Falco assures, but Levi just shakes his head.

“Th-that woman wanted her money back. I don’t… I was just gonna’ let her have it. But then, I don’t know what happened. I don’t know… how’d I… end up with…”

“It’s okay Mr. Levi. I… I think you might have a concussion. Gabi, can you stay here with him while I clean up in the front? I want to put up the closed sign too, so no one else comes in.”

Gabi nods.

“Sure.”

“I think there’s a first-aid kit in Mr. Levi’s desk too. You should maybe treat the wound on his head?”

Again, Gabi nods, before turning and heading for Levi’s desk where he deals with inventory lists and budgeting and the like. Sure enough, there’s a first-aid kit hidden in the bottommost drawer on the left. No doubt Falco put it there, just in case of this sort of thing, she supposes. He’s always been thoughtful like that. She grabs it and takes it back over to Levi, and Falco heads back to the front to clean up the mess.

Levi’s got the palm of his bad hand pressed to his ruined eye, his teeth hard together. His breathing is a little too fast and shallow, Gabi thinks worriedly as she settles beside him on the mattress, opening the kit up to rummage through it.

“Do you have a headache?” She asks, and he gives a single, stiff nod.

“For how long?”

Levi huffs out a harsh breath.

“Been buildin’ since this morning.” He admits weakly. “It’s gettin’ worse now.”

“Okay. Have you tried taking anything for it?”

He shakes his head.

“Alright. Well, there’s some aspirin in this kit, so how about you take a couple pills?”

That’s going to be difficult, Gabi knows. Levi hates taking any sort of medication if he absolutely doesn’t have to. But she can tell he’s really suffering, and it doesn’t hurt to try.

A long moment passes, and Gabi thinks Levi is just going to ignore her suggestion, before suddenly he holds out his hand. Gabi smile, relieved, and shakes two pills out into his open palm. He dry swallows them. Gabi will never know how he does that.

They don’t say anything else to each other as Gabi starts about cleaning the cut along his temple. Levi takes it like he takes all pain, silent and still, and Gabi bites her lip as she works, her heart sinking as she recalls the words that woman had been saying to him when they walked in. Who knows what other shit she said. Gabi isn’t sure she wants to find out.

She feels like she should say something, make sure Levi didn’t somehow take her bullshit to heart. She knows how easy it can be to do that. To let the cruel things people say get to you.

“Mr. Levi…” she begins after a few more seconds of debating with herself.

He doesn’t reply, so she keeps going.

“What… what that stupid lady was saying to you, I… I hope you didn’t listen. She was a total bitch.”

Levi is silent for a long moment. And then he lets out a soft sigh.

“… Don’t worry about it, brat.” He finally answers, and Gabi frowns.

“It’s just… I know how it feels, when people say dumb shit like that. I know how much it hurts. I don’t want you having to go through that too. People are so fuckin’ prejudiced against us.”

And suddenly Levi’s hand is on her wrist, stilling her movements.

She looks at him, and sees he’s looking straight at her now, his face pale and serious.

“I know.” He says softly. “Gabi. I grew up with people spittin’ on me and tellin’ me I wasn’t worth nothin’. I know. Where I come from, my life wasn’t worth the dirt people took a piss in. You don’t gotta’ explain.”

That same burning is back in Gabi’s eyes then. She feels her lip wobble, and doesn’t even try to stop it. Because she knows. She knows Levi knows. That he knows exactly what it feels like, to be told you aren’t worth anything. To be treated like you’re subhuman. It’s why he never scolds her, or tells her to calm down, or that she’s wrong when she’s upset over something someone said to her, or something she overheard. It’s why he tells her things like he did this morning, about getting back at whoever talked trash by shitting on their desk. It’s why he never judges her, or Falco. Because he knows what it feels like too, to be hated or thought of as lesser than.

And so she doesn’t try to stop her tears, then, as she throws her arms around him, burying her face against his neck. She’s upset. She’s upset, because he got hurt. He got hurt by that woman’s words, and she hates it. She hates that she wasn’t there to protect him, the way he’s so often protected her. She doesn’t try to stop it, and Levi doesn’t tell her she’s wrong, or scold her for making a scene. She only feels his arm come up around her, holding her against his side, the press of his lips soft against the crown of her head.

This Life, After

Chapter 1:

Levi wakes in the morning after three hours sleep. Normal, for him. How it will always be.

There’s no one in his life anymore that he needs to worry about dying. About being eaten by titans, or killed by violence or disease.

There are no titans anymore. There is no war. The medicine in this new world is beyond anything Levi ever dreamed of, living in the squalor of the Underground, thoughts of clean living and good food and fresh air, up above, always filling his head.

All the things he has now.

None of that stops the dreams.

They still come to him every night. He still sees their stricken faces, eyes wide with horror, bloody and torn to pieces as they beg for him to save them.

Erwin. Hange. Petra. Olu. Gunter. Mike.

Furlan… Isabel.

All of them.

Well, it’s just the way it is for him. No use hanging on to it in the warm, morning light slanting through the half-pulled curtains over his small bedroom’s single window.

The images smear and wash from his mind as he pushes himself up and slides himself to the edge of his mattress.

As it is every time he stands now, Levi has to brace himself for it.

He reaches out, gripping the corner of his nightstand with his three, remaining fingers, and uses it to help lever himself to his feet.

His bad knee creaks and cries out in protest as he puts his weight on it, threatening to give out, and Levi pulls a deep breath in through his nose to steady himself, waiting until the sharp throbbing dies down into something more manageable before he reaches with his left hand for the cane propped against the wall between the table and bed frame.

It’s a relief as he transfers his weight from his leg to the stick.

He hobbles to the washroom.

He might be embarrassed by how long it takes him to make it across the floor, if anyone were here to witness it.

But the house is quiet.

It won’t stay that way.

Later, Gabi and Falco will arrive. They will have breakfast with him, as they do every morning. And then they will help him to his shop, help him to open, and set up.

The both of them will be off to some fancy university in a couple of years. They won’t have time to see Levi every morning when they do, he supposes.

That’s alright.

He’s glad to know they got accepted. Glad to know they’ve got the brains for it.

Education was important. Erwin used to tell him that. Hange too.

Levi never went to school. Not a single day of it.

That deprivation made itself known to him in strange ways, sometimes. Most times, he got by just fine.

He takes a shower. The water comes out warm just by him turning the handle the right way.

They had plumbing here, in Marley. They hadn’t had that back on Paradis. Not Underground, and not back when he’d first joined the Scouts, and had been a younger man. Then, they’d had to pump the water from a well.

He has to take showers sitting down now. Falco had helped him install a little bench along the stall where he could do that.

He doesn’t let himself indulge in the warm water, even though it feels nice. He’s out in five minutes.

He shaves.

The sparse stubble he’s always had is even patchier around the gnarled scars which mar both sides of his face.

It no longer hurts, the way it did early on. It’s numb now as he drags the straight razor over and around the puckered, white skin.

His right eye is milked over and blind, the scar which runs from his forehead and over it, down across his lips and chin, often frightens the new customers who wander into his shop, their eyes widening with fear, sometimes disgust, when they see him. They’re never rude enough to say anything.

Children openly stare at him. Sometimes they point. Sometimes, he hears people whisper as he passes.

“Look at that man’s face.”

“Don’t you know who that is?”

“No. Who is it?”

“Captain Levi Ackerman. The Eldian who helped save Marely.”

“That’s Captain Levi? He’s so small though.”

It hardly registers.

He’s been treated far worse in his life. Spoken of so much worse.

Anyway, he was always ugly. Everyone told him so. A few scars weren’t going to make much difference.

He combs his hair, then goes back out into his room and dresses.

He’d had a hard time, at first, buttoning his shirts, with the index and middle fingers of his right hand gone. But he’d gotten used to that too, eventually. The same as he’d gotten used to performing menial tasks, like holding utensils, holding his cups the way he preferred. He’d spilled hot tea all over himself more times than he can recall.

Every time that had happened, Gabi and Falco had fussed over him as if he were a small child, frightened that his skin had been burnt.

A few times it had.

It made him think of Hange. How they had died.

They’d had so much courage.

He doesn’t like to think on it. Makes his guts twist all up and his throat tight. He thinks how much pain they must have been in. How scared.

He thinks these things about all of them, at different times. All his comrades.

All his friends…

Those first, several months… after the war had at last ended, Levi had spent in a hospital.

It hadn’t just been his face that the blast from the thunderspear had damaged.

His insides had been a mess.

The doctors told him it was a miracle he hadn’t died. That they didn’t understand how he’d lasted so many days after the initial blast without proper medical treatment, let alone how he’d been able to fight.

He hadn’t bothered explaining to them about his blood. About how being an Ackerman made him stronger, supposedly.

He would never again walk unaided. That one had to do with his leg nearly getting bitten off by a titan.

Some days, Levi thought, if he had to, he could still use ODM.

But there was no need for that, anymore. Because there were no titans.

He moves then from his bedroom and out into the hall. It’s only a short distance to the kitchen.

Levi had wanted a single story house, when he’d moved here. Well, he hadn’t really moved. Just decided to stay.

He hadn’t ever wanted to go back to the island, even if he’d been able. He couldn’t either way, on account of the Jaegerists, and how they still considered all of them who’d stopped Eren enemies. Well, even without that…

Too many bad memories, he guesses.

A single-story house, he’d said, on account of his bad leg. He didn’t want to have to go up and down no stairs.

Onyankopon had helped him find one and buy it. The same for where he’d eventually set up his tea shop. He wouldn’t have known where to start without the other man’s help, since Levi didn’t know anything about that sort of thing. He’d never owned anything. Never owned any kind of property.

His life in the Underground had been nothing but squatting down in one abandoned hovel after another, moving constantly when things got too heated, either from rival gangs, or the MPs, or, when he’d been a kid, just any passing fucker with bad intentions, looking to snatch up or steal from a lone child with no one looking out for them. Before that, even, there’d been the whore house his mother worked in. After it all, he’d lived in military barracks.

So, there he was, almost 40 years old, and he hadn’t known nothing about buying a house. And so Onyankopon had helped, talked to all the people that needed talking to, and taken care of all the paperwork. All Levi’d had to do was give him the money. Easy. He’d had almost everything saved up from his time in the Corps still, all of it. He’d never spent it on anything. Nothing to buy.

He puts a kettle on the stove for tea. He sets to breakfast.

Gabi and Falco will be by in a little less than half an hour.

Levi likes to think he’s become alright at cooking simple foods. Stews and breads and things like that.

He makes egg white omelets now, with diced tomatoes and avocado. Gabi likes the avocado. He slices and toasts some bread, spreads marmalade over Falco’s, jam for Gabi and himself.

The two brats arrive just as he’s plating the food. He hears them come in through the front, Gabi’s excited chatter filtering in, Falco’s quiet responses following after.

They remind him, in so many ways, of Furlan and Isabel. Sometimes, when he looks at the two of them, he swears he sees his family, and his breath catches in his throat, and his eyes burn, and he has to look away.

One time he called Gabi Isabel by mistake, and she’d looked at him in alarm, and Levi had turned his face away, ashamed and embarrassed, muttering an apology.

“Mr. Levi!” Gabi calls loudly, and a moment later, she comes skidding into the kitchen, breathless and happy. Falco is right behind, his entrance quieter, but the smile on his face just as genuine.

“Hey, brats.” Levi says in way of hello, setting their plates down on the table.

Gabi strides towards him in her confidence, throws her arms around him in a hug.

She’s taller than him now, by a good three inches. Falco by almost half a foot. They’ll keep growing, he knows.

Levi hugs her back, awkward and stiff. He should be used to hers and Falco’s affection by now, but he isn’t. He doesn’t think he ever will be.

Falco hugs him too, after Gabi pulls away, his arms gentler around Levi’s shoulders.

“How are you?” The boy asks, looking down at him with the same, pinched concern he always greets Levi with.

“Fine.” Levi tells him, the same as every time he asks. “Sit down and eat, you two, before it goes cold.”

He can feel Falco’s eyes on him as he turns and hobbles over to the ice box. He ignores it. They don’t need to be worrying about him. They have their own lives ahead of them. Their time should be spent on that.

He retrieves the pitcher of juice he’d put in there last night to cool, brings it back to the table and pours them each a glass. He goes to the stove when the kettle whistles, and pours himself a cup of tea.

Gabi’s already sat down, inhaling her food. Falco is still standing, waits for Levi to finish pouring and then pulls his chair out for him.

Levi almost snaps at him that he doesn’t need his help, but he swallows it down. The boy is just being kind to a crippled old man.

So he mutters out a thank you instead and lets himself fall heavily into the hardbacked chair.

He hooks his cane over its back.

He asks the two of them how things are going in school, and Gabi chatters away excitedly about their classes. She tells him in their science class, they’re dissecting frogs, and the food in Levi’s mouth turns sour at the thought. He thinks poor things, and says nothing. Falco says they’re going to start learning about the wars, soon, between Marley and Eldia, and the table goes quiet at that.

Levi thinks its pointless, to explain to those who have lost why they have lost. It doesn’t make the feel of it go away.

“If anyone says anything rotten about us Eldian’s, I’ll knock their fuckin’ teeth in.” Gabi declares.

“Gabi!” Falco gasps, as if her language is going to offend anyone sitting here.

Levi stares at his eggs. His stomach hurts. He forces himself to eat anyway. He could never justify wasting food. You can’t, he thinks, when you know what it feels like to truly starve.

He scraps his knife and fork through the eggs, his grip clumsy and slow. He can’t hold the knife right. Shit, he… He’s gotta’ be able to hold the knife right, he thinks. There’s a tight, flighty feeling in his chest, all of a sudden. How’s he gonna’ show Kenny he knows right, if he can’t… Can’t even grip the damn thing right? Kenny’ll be mad, if he can’t… he’ll… he’ll take him out back again, whip his hide raw with his belt, ‘till Levi starts crying and begging him to stop, and that’ll just make Kenny madder, and he’ll… he’ll…

The sound of metal on ceramic grates in his ears.

“Just take a giant shit on their desk.” He says. “That’ll hurt worse.”

The air goes still and silent. He looks up, sees Gabi and Falco staring at him and Levi realizes a beat too late they don’t know what he’s talking about. Minutes have passed since Gabi’s comment about knocking fuckers teeth out. Levi got stuck in his own head again.

He looks away, and sees he’s cut his eggs to ribbons.

“Anyone talks shit in class,” he mutters, ignoring the heat spreading over his cheeks. “just take a giant shit on their desk. It’ll save your knuckles from getting busted.”

Another, heavy beat passes, and then Gabi bursts out laughing. Falco chuckles nervously beside her.

Gabi’d gotten used to Levi’s crass humor pretty quickly. Falco, not so much. Kid thinks he’s weird, Levi knows. Well, he is weird, he guesses. That was alright.

After breakfast, Levi insists on cleaning the dishes and putting them away, like he always does, and Gabi and Falco wait for him out in the entryway.

By the time he rejoins them, Falco’s already got his wheelchair set up and waiting, unfolded from its spot near the front door, where Levi keeps it leant against the wall. He only uses it when he’s got to go a distance longer than a mile.

He hadn’t wanted to use it at all, at first. He’d been a stubborn ass, insisting he was fine to go on long walks with just the cane.

That stubbornness hadn’t lasted long. Not much after he’d gotten set up here, after the deal for his new house had been finalized, and Gabi, Falco and Onyankopon had helped him move in, he’d agreed to accompany Onyankopon on a walk downtown, and not half an hour into the fucking thing, Levi’s leg had cramped up so bad on him, he’d collapsed in the middle of a busy market and thrown up in front of a startled, gathering crowd, the pain had been so bad.

Levi can’t remember ever feeling what he’d felt then. His skin had turned so hot, it’d felt like someone was holding a flame to it, his stomach tight and nauseas, like how you felt in free fall, sometimes. He remembers thinking he had to get away. Needing desperately to get away where no one could see him. No one could look at him.

And he’d cursed himself for his stupidity.

Because he’d felt his leg going lame on him long before then. Had felt the telltale pings and twinges and throbbing which let him know he was putting too much strain on his fucked-up knee. Had felt the creeping ache which always started just above the joint, and traveled slowly down the whole of his calf, into his ankle, ‘till it felt like the whole fucking limb was being flayed and peeled and crushed with stones.

He'd ignored it because he’d thought, for some stupid fucking reason, Onyankopon would think less of him if he couldn’t keep up. And even when his whole face had started breaking out in a thick sweat, the same pooling in the pits of his arms, and he knew he must stink, and his whole lower half on his left side went numb up through his hip, except for the zap of wretched burning each time he took a step, and he couldn’t feel his foot striking the ground anymore, still, he hadn’t said shit.

Well, and he’d paid for it alright, because as fucking embarrassing as all that had been, it was even worse when he’d realized he couldn’t stand back up on his own, and Onyankopon had had to lift him onto his back like a damned child and carry him back to his house.

So he’d accepted he needed the damned chair.

He settles himself down into it now, laying his cane across his lap.

“You want your hat, Mr. Levi?” Falco asks. “It’s pretty sunny out today.”

“Sunglasses too, Mr. Levi.” Gabi points out.

Levi blinks, and then nods.

This is how they take care of him. These small sorts of details they notice. Which Levi is hardly aware of himself.

He gets headaches, now. From the sun. A cluster of pain which forms behind his ruined, right eye.

Gabi fetches the things for him. A wide brimmed fedora and a pair of round, blacked out spectacles.

Levi likes the way they hide his face. The way that, when he wears them, people notice him less.

The fewer people that notice him, the less people want to speak with him, the less chance he has of saying or doing something to make them uncomfortable.

He’s always a disappointment, he guesses.

The walk to his shop takes only fifteen or so minutes, and is uneventful, as it is most days. Gabi pushes his chair at a leisurely pace, Falco beside her, just behind Levi’s periphery. Levi keeps himself occupied with the paper in his hands, ignoring the passing people.

He’s tried to get better at reading, in his time after the war. Wasn’t much else for him to do, other than run the shop. He was never going to be brilliant, the way Hange or Erwin had been. He still struggles with anything above the reading level of a grade schooler.

Exercise could be difficult too, though he still kept up a routine in the afternoons and before he went to bed. Pushups and sit ups. He had a few weights he moved around. It was pathetic, compared to what he once could do. But he kept in shape as best he could.

Once they arrive, Gabi and Falco help him set up shop. Levi unlocks the front entrance, and the two brats hurry inside, beginning without needing to be told to take the chairs from where they sit waiting along the surfaces of the scattered tables, positioning them neatly into place while Levi heads to the backroom to take inventory and start in on setting up his displays.

Gabi and Falco can’t stay long after that. Gabi pokes her head round the door, looking into Levi’s stockroom.

“We’re heading to school now, Mr. Levi. We got all the chairs set up, and Falco opened the register for you. You okay from here?” She asks.

Levi waves a hand at her, keeping his focus on the tin he’s holding. He’s running low on this particular blend. He’s going to have to order more soon. He hates dealing with the suppliers.

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Alright! We’ll see you for dinner later!”

And with that, he hears the two of them scamper out, the little bell Gabi had insisted he put over the door to let him know when customers had entered reaching his ears faintly.

He sighs, pushing himself up with his hands on his knees, the joints aching viciously as he straightens. He’s not even that old, but some days he feels ancient.

He grabs his cane in one hand, holding the tin in the other, and heads for the front counter, where the telephone sits. Levi still can’t quite get over that particular contraption. How much easier would it have made things, back on Paradis, to be able to deliver urgent messages and orders in seconds, rather than the hours it often took to send a rider out?

Well, it was pointless, wondering over things like that.

It was all over, anyway.

He lifts the receiver from its cradle and begins turning the dial to ring his supplier.

The static that fills his ear as he presses the receiver to it makes him think of sound of wind rushing. The deafening wash of a titan’s roar.

[sinner-as-saint]

we can’t stop, we’re enemies.

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader AU

Run-through: After the events of the last battle against Thanos, you teamed up with Sam and Bucky to carry on your superhero duties. You got along with Sam just fine, he was a really good friend to you. Bucky however, was not. From constant banters, to unnecessary hand-to-hand combat, to purposely getting each other in trouble during risky missions, to being the main cause of Sam’s migraines; it was safe to say that you and Bucky considered yourselves to be each other’s nemesis. Although that soon changes when, courtesy of your silly banters, a certain mission goes slightly wrong - one which involves strong chemicals which, unbeknownst to you, were designed to mess with the brain and hormones, thus encouraging the need to breed and procreate amongst all those who inhale it...

Themes: enemies-to-lovers, smut, sex pollen trope, dirty talk, swear words, fluff

“How is it going up there Sam, talk to me.” 

You spoke, waiting to hear from Sam through the ear piece. 

The three of you were on a mission on unfamiliar lands. Rumor had it that some shady organization was conducting illegal experiments. The whole location was spooky, and you needed to be thorough and quick. So Sam decided to get an aerial view along with Red Wing, and see if there are any threats coming your way while you and Bucky decided to check out the underground laboratories. 

The whole place was shadowy and old, it almost seemed like no one had been here in a long time. But still, these people were criminals so you had to gather every evidence you could which would lead you their way. 

And so far, after exploring the place for the past half an hour, you found nothing major. Just weird laboratory glassware filled with liquids and what not. 

“Sam?” you called out again into the ear piece, keeping your gun at the ready. “Say something damn it.” 

His reply came. “There’s something sketchy about the building at the back, I’m gonna go check it out. But you have to promise me you won’t kill each other by the time I get back.” 

You and Bucky sent death glares at each other in disgust. He was on the other side of the lab, flipping through files and papers, while you were searching the cabinets and drawers. The two of you were separated by a steel workstation. Dark leather jacket, metal arm exposed; you’d find him handsome if he wasn’t so annoying. 

“Sure, whatever.” Bucky mumbled, being his grumpy self. 

You frowned at him, “Dude, drop your fucking attitude.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at you, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Sam roared through the ear piece, “Enough! Focus, you two are in the labs and we don’t know what’s in there. Just, maybe look out for each other. Okay? I’m going in.”

“Be careful, Sam.” You spoke, sending another dirty look at Bucky. 

“Yeah y-,” 

Sam got cut off. All you could hear was some static noises and then complete silence. 

“Sam? Can you hear us?” Bucky tried reaching out but neither of you could hear him. “This isn’t good.” 

“Damn it!” You cursed. “Maybe he flew out of range. Or maybe we’re too deep under.” 

For once in his life he nodded, agreeing with you. “Let’s just hurry up and see what we can find. We need to get out of here as fast as we can and get to the Jet.” He said, flipping through more and more files and papers, his metal arm glistening in the poorly lit room. 

You sassed in the same tone he used before, “Don’t tell me what to do.” And you earned yourself another glare from him. 

Fifteen minutes later and you two still had nothing to work with. 

“This is useless. There’s nothing here, this is just bullshit.” Bucky complained, slamming down a file on the workstation so hard that it made you jump. 

You were annoyed. You slammed a cabinet shut and turned to face him. “Oh I’m sorry princess, is work getting too tiring? Do you need a break? Hmm?” 

“Shut up, you’re the one who keeps whining all the time.” He wasn’t wrong. 

You stepped forward, grabbing the edge of the cold workstation. “Well maybe if you’d quit complaining and actually do your part of the job, then I wouldn’t have to whine about always doing everything on my own and you taking credit for it in front of Sam.” 

He leaned forward, his metal arm already denting his side of the edge of the workstation. “Maybe if you’d stop bitching about everything and everyone all the time then maybe we’d get along and actually get shit done.” 

You leaned in too. “Or maybe if just me and Sam teamed up, we’d work better. I still don’t know why he keeps you around. Take your metal arm away, what are you? Exactly, just a hundred year old, confused man.” 

He smirked. “And what are you? Just a spoilt, whiny brat who knows how to use a gun?” He knew just what to say to get the reaction he wanted out of you. 

In less than a few seconds you had your loaded gun out in front of you, aiming it at his forehead. “And guess what, she never misses a target.” You spat at him. 

You had done this before; aiming guns at each other until Sam comes to break the tension. But Sam wasn’t here this time. 

Bucky knew you would never pull the trigger on him so he gave you a handsome, arrogant smirk which only pissed you off even more. “Come on, shoot.” He provoked you. 

“Stop pissing me off.” You warned. 

“Or what? You’re gonna shoot me for calling you a whiny, spoilt brat? See, that’s exactly what brats do.” 

“James, stop.” Oh he was getting on your nerves. You were agitated. 

He just smirked and went on. “I actually believe that that might be your superpower, destroying people by annoying them to death with how much of a brat you can actually be.” 

You glared at him, unmoving, furious. You placed your forefinger on the trigger. “Say brat one more time and I will blow your fucking head off and when Sam asks, I’ll make it seem like an accident.” 

He leaned closer, aligning his forehead to the barrel of your gun. He stared at you with his stormy, ocean blue eyes; inciting you to just pull the damn trigger. He watched you with mischief in his eyes. “Brat.” He mouthed, smirking right after and waiting for your reaction. 

You clenched your jaw and shifted your aim just a little so that the bullet misses him but still shoots right by his ear. You pulled the trigger without hesitation, shooting at the shelf filled with dark red and brown liquids behind Bucky. 

Bucky maintained his calm and composure despite the loud sound of the shattering glass falling on the tiles right behind him. “Brat.” He said again, out loud this time. 

“I hate you.” You lowered your gun but then noticed something behind Bucky. Smoke, or some sort of vapor oozing out of the broken flasks and test tubes. You froze for a second. “Bucky, look.” You walked around the workstation and joined him on the other side. 

The vapor quickly filled the room like thick fog, reducing visibility and making your throat burn a little. You coughed; once, twice. You looked beside you and Bucky was standing there with a look of horror on his face. 

The moment his supersoldier sense got a whiff of the vapor, something in him ignited. No… 

“We have to get out of here. Now.” You heard his voice, then felt his cold fingers wrap around your wrists as he tugged you along, making his way out of the lab. He tried to hold his breath but he couldn’t hold it very long. He tried to find the door to exit the room but that was hard too because neither of you could see properly. 

“This stuff,” you spoke in between coughs, “will probably kill us, won’t it?” You held on tightly to his arm. “You need to get us out of here now.” The vapor was reducing your visibility more and more. 

He felt the side of the wall, looking for the metal handle of the door through which you entered the lab. “It won’t kill us.” He growled as he looked beside him. You were standing close to him, so close, holding on to his arm tightly, a thin layer of sweat covered your face. 

It was almost funny how you had your gun aimed at him just a minute ago and now you were relying on him for protection. 

“How can you be so sure? Do you know what this stuff is?” You asked. 

He sighed. He knew. “I have a hunch, but let’s hope I’m wrong.” He felt warm. Deep inside something stirred in him. Animalistic, primal, feral. It was there, pressing and burning. Guess he wasn’t wrong. 

He finally found the door and he pushed it open, letting the two of you out and you took off running at once. You tried to reach Sam. A couple tries later, he finally responded. “I got some names, I think we got what we’re looking for. Where are you guys?” 

“We found…. uh, nothing. We’re on our way to the jet, meet us there.” Bucky responded, running beside you. 

You were confused out of your mind, not to mention you felt feverish. Hot, and you were sweating more than usual in places you’d rather not think about. Something in you was yearning to break free. You felt chained, you needed release. You felt like something had awakened inside of you; a deep hunger. Aroused, you felt aroused. Or was it just the adrenaline rush? 

By the time you tried to figure out what was actually going on with you, you both had made it to the Jet. 

“I feel sick.” you mumbled, stumbling on your way inside the jet. “I think… I think that smoke poisoned me.” You placed your palm against the side of the plane to hold on so you don’t fall. You felt like gravity wasn’t pulling you down anymore. You were a little out of breath. 

Then you felt a cold hand on your shoulder. You grimaced as it only ignited the fire which you just found out had been burning inside you since you left the lab. 

“You’re not poisoned. You’re not sick, you’re gonna be okay. We just have to… we have to get home.” Bucky was worse than you were. His enhanced senses allowed him to feel everything you felt, times ten perhaps. 

His heart raced as he got a whiff of your fading perfume, mixed with the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your natural, raw scent. He could feel your arousal from here, and it pulled him in so easily. All he wanted to do was to tear your suit off, pin you up against the side of the Jet and fuck the living hell out of you, stretch you out and just rail you until you could no longer take it. 

Fuck. 

You looked up at him; heart racing, palms sweating and even your mouth was salivating more than usual. “You know what that thing was, don’t you?” You asked, ignoring the way his cold hand upon your shoulder made you want to lean into his touch even more. “What was it?” 

You saw the look in his hooded eyes. Bucky sighed, pulling his hand away from you and the loss of contact made you whimper ever so quietly. You felt warmer and more and more breathless with each second that passed by. 

“They used to make those substances, long ago back when I was with HYDRA. I didn’t expect to find those here. They were used to… to try and see if they could get super soldiers to procreate naturally.” Bucky explained and waited for your reaction. 

“Sex pollen. Correct?” 

He nodded, “Yes.” 

You were a little shaken, but relieved knowing that at least it wasn’t poison and you wouldn’t be dying a painful death. “That’s… I mean, it could have been poison.” You didn’t know how to react after you pieced it all together. “How long before it wears off?” 

“Twenty-four hours unless...” 

“Unless what?” 

“Unless you fuck it out of your system well enough.”

That had you surprised. “Oh. Well that’s just great, isn’t it? Fucking perfect. I’m screwed.” 

Bucky tried his hardest to refrain himself from leaning in and biting that sassy mouth of yours, shoving his tongue past your lips to shut you up, to hear you moan and gasp and cry out his name as he takes you however he wants to… 

“We.” He corrected you. “It’ll get worse every hour.” He replied. 

You sighed and moved away from him, unzipping your combat suit partly and removing the jacket because you couldn’t handle the heat. Bucky cursed as you stripped into just a tank top and tight pants, right in front of him. He felt his cock get harder. 

“Can you not?” He sounded pissed off again; frustrated. “This is all your doing. The least you can do is make this a little bit easier for both of us.” 

His words made you turn around and glare at him. “How is this my doing? I didn’t even know what was in that lab.” 

He stepped forward, instinctively. The sight of your exposed neck and your soft skin was making him think of unspeakable things that he wanted to do to you. As he advanced, you tried not to look down at his cock, straining against his zipper. Your heart raced as you took in the size of his bulge. Enhanced super soldier indeed. 

“Had you not been a spoiled brat who can’t take a joke, you wouldn’t have tried to shoot at me nor would you have shot those flasks!” He argued, feeling more and more warm as he got closer to you. 

You took a step forward as well, fueled by annoyance, lust and anger. “Who was it who provoked me into doing that because they couldn’t keep their fucking mouth shut, huh? That’s right, your annoying ass!” 

Bucky pushed you against the side of the Jet without a second thought. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with his hand while pressing his body into you, his metal arm circling around your waist and pressing you further into him. 

He hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t thought about how your warm breath would feel against his skin, or how warm your body would be under his touch. You felt feverish, having him this close. His tall, large frame and his tight grip made your whimper under him. Your body reacted to him naturally. 

All you felt was warm, his body heat, his scent. The feeling of his cold leather jacket against your flushed skin. You wanted him. Or rather, your body did. 

“Don’t you provoke me now, you fucking whiny brat.” He whispered, menacingly into your ear. 

You tried to ignore the shivers his voice sent down your entire body. But he saw it. And you could feel his erection press against your crotch. Just to mess with him, you discreetly moved your hips against his, making him hiss loudly. 

“What are you gonna do about it, dipshit?” You sassed, knowing that given his intensified senses he must be feeling much worse than you. 

He groaned as you kept grinding against him, your pulsating core rubbing against the bulge in his pants. And that only made it worse for both of you. 

“Fuck…” Bucky swore, before quickly pulling away from you, but not releasing you yet. “You’re such a bitch.” His body was screaming for you, each nerve ending of his was on fire. A fire only you could douse. 

You were just the same, on the edge and wanting to reach out for him; knowing he would satiate your hunger better than anyone could. Your body was throbbing as you stared into his eyes, your gaze lowering down to his dog tags. How you wanted those dangling right above your face… 

You heard someone clear their throat. It wasn’t Bucky. 

“Something you two need to tell me? Or is this just your new way of trying to kill each other?” A deep voice asked from behind Bucky. 

“Sam! Are you okay?” You escaped Bucky’s grip and rushed to Sam. 

He seemed alright to you. He nodded. “Yeah, we just need to get home. I need to notify the team and see what we should do next. What was in those labs?” 

You glared at Bucky. His smug face alone was pissing you off, but God right now you wanted to ride that man until the sun came tomorrow morning. 

“Just a bunch of useless experiments. Nothing major.” He glared at you as he said the last bit to Sam. 

The ride back home was one of the most painful, annoying and frustrating situations you had ever undergone. Each time you felt like someone was watching you, you’d turn your head to the side and find Bucky staring; and his stares would make your body tremble in need. 

Meanwhile he was having a hard time too, in more ways than one. He could feel his blood rush south even at the brief sound of your voice whenever you sighed in annoyance or talked to Sam. Luckily the latter could not pick up on the thick, sexual tension. 

Once at the compound, you each hurried to your own rooms and that’s where you stayed until the evening. Sam found it weird that you both skipped dinner but he didn’t need another headache today so he went to bed, telling himself that he’d deal with you two tomorrow morning. 

Bucky was a mess. Even after an hour under the cold shower his body was still calling out for you. He tried taking care of his business on his own, but that wasn’t working. He was still so hard it was painful. Nothing could make this better, nothing could soothe the pain - nothing but you. He needed you so badly it was driving him insane, like he was an animal in heat being asked to suppress his feral desires towards his mate. Being away from you was painful. He couldn’t help but hate you for no reason at all usually, but he’d do what it takes to be inside you and make you scream his name right now. 

You were equally as troubled at the super soldier. You tried taking a warm bath and tried to think of other things you could focus on, but nothing worked. Your toys didn’t seem appealing tonight, you needed him, all of him. You shivered at the thought of his taut, virile body under yours, or above. His masculine scent, the sound of his moans, would he bite?… fuck. You could feel your arousal leak out of you every now and then, it was insane how aroused you were. You couldn’t look at him for long without getting unnecessarily annoyed, but you would do anything just to have him rearrange your guts right now. 

What made it worse was that neither of you could stand each other at all. Enemies, you called yourselves. But right now you couldn’t help but crave each other in the most salacious way possible. 

Fuck this. You couldn’t take this anymore. You decided to swallow your pride and make your way to his room and ask him if you two could come to an agreement on how to fight this thing because it would be impossible to go another twenty hours feeling like this. You were burning from the inside. This was unbearable. 

Just as you opened your bedroom door, you were slightly surprised to find Bucky standing right outside your door. His metal hand up midair, as though he was to knock on your door and you happened to open the door just in time. You almost drooled at the sight of him; sweatpants and a tight, white t-shirt. You swallowed and cleared your throat. 

“Hey.” You greeted him, not knowing how to deal with this situation. You felt so drawn to him in that moment, so damn restless and needy that it was hard to breathe right while looking at him. 

“I was, uh, about to knock…” He didn’t know how he got here, he didn’t remember. Maybe it was the chemicals messing with his brain and turning him into a hungry beast. He didn’t care that he was knocking on your door in the middle of the night, he wanted you. He was craving you and that’s all he knew. Also the oversized t-shirt, the only you were wearing at the time, was not helping at all. 

“Yeah, um…” you rambled then stopped talking the moment you found him staring into your eyes with a wild look in his eyes. 

That was it. 

You grabbed him by the waistband of his sweats and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him. Before Bucky could process anything, you had him pushed against your closed door and your mouth was on his, kissing him hungrily. Your hands slowly slipped under his tight t-shirt and you lazily trailed your hands up and down his toned abs. 

His hands gripped your hips on either side as he kissed you back with just as much ardor as you did. His body ignited the moment he felt your lips and hands on him, yet the heat was weirdly satisfying; it stimulated him but calmed him down at the same time. It felt perfect. This was just what he needed, you. 

Your movements were rapid and passionate, fiery. Hands roaming each other's body, touching and feeling and exploring; making each other moan like you were both touch-starved. 

You let out a soft moan when you felt his tongue slip past your lips, stroking the top of your mouth while his metal hand slipped under your shirt. Your body was tingling wherever he touched you. His touch made you feel way better than you had felt in the past few hours and you were grateful. Your moans sent his mind straight to the gutter and he couldn’t wait to be inside you. 

“I need you…” you whispered against his lips as you pulled away to catch your breath. “I need you to fuck me… right here, right now.” Your demands made him smirk as he looked down at you with lust in his eyes. 

“Oh?” he managed to still find the energy to be an ass to you. “Why don’t you go on and beg for it, then?” 

You scoffed, leaning in to lick his lips while you hand dipped into his pants. You grabbed his erected cock and gave it a little, gentle squeeze. He moaned like he hadn’t been touched in forever. Like he was desperate for one thing and one thing only; you. You whispered, “You need me too, Bucky. I’m not gonna beg you, I’m doing you a favor here.” You slid your closed fist up and down his length and made him moan some more before you let go and watched him groan and clench his jaw in annoyance. 

He looked down at you, panting in need just as you were. His hand slid into your hair and he gripped it, tugging on it just enough to make you gasp in pleasure and pain. “Still a fucking brat with that annoying attitude I see?” He leaned in to bite your exposed neck, making your cry out in pain before he licked the spot, soothing it. “Don’t worry doll, I’ll fuck all that attitude out of you.” 

He let go of your hair but tightened his grip around your waist as he placed his mouth back on yours. Kissing you like there’s no tomorrow; biting your lip and bruising your already swollen mouth. He was wild, and you needed it and more. 

He pushed you down on your bed, and stood back to watch you for a moment. How did he never realize that you were so naturally beautiful? He looked down at you like a predator looking at his meal; fiercely, ready to ruin you and make you scream and beg and satiate his hunger. As well as yours. 

“Well, if you’re done staring…” you knelt on your bed and reached out for him, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him closer. “I want you in me. Now.” Your demanding tone riled him up. 

Bucky grabbed you by the hair and tilted your head back again. “If you wanna get fucked, you’re gonna ask nicely. Understood?” 

You glared at him, shooting death glares right at him while your hand palmed him through his sweatpants. “I fucking hate you.” You spat at him, whimpering as he pushed you back down on the bed, quickly climbing on top of you this time. 

“I hate you too.” He knelt on your bed, straddling your waist as he tore your oversized shirt in half and off your body, throwing the pieces of fabric somewhere on your bedroom floor. You laid beneath him in just your underwear and he growled. 

“That was my favorite shirt, you fucking idiot.” You whispered, breathless, shivers dancing down your spine as he traced your mouth with his two fingers, slipping them past your lips once, then twice then trailing his now wet fingers down your neck, till your belly button. 

“You think I care?” he leaned down and took one of your breasts into his mouth, kneading the other with his metal hand. The contrast of his warm mouth around one and his cold hand around the other was driving you crazy. He bit, and tugged and licked; making your back arch off the bed as you purred in pleasure. 

Your hips moved on their own, grinding against his erection again to try and alleviate the pain. You were desperate. Bucky pinched and rolled one of your nipples while he lightly grazed the other with his teeth, and you let out a loud moan. 

“Please… please, I need you. Please…” You muttered under your breath, knowing he could hear you. Bucky smirked as he pulled away from your chest, ignoring the way his cock throbbed. “What’s so fucking funny?” You grabbed him by the throat, pulling his face closer to yours. 

His metal arm reached down in between your legs and he ripped your underwear off. The fabric hurt just a little when it tore against your skin. “Just that it's the first time I heard you asking for something so politely. It’s not so hard after all, is it?” 

Now he was pissing you off. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and flipped the two of you around. You got on top of him and straddled his waist, trapping him under you like he had you before. You had better control like this. 

You grabbed him by the jaw and leaned in to kiss his lips, fiercely. “Stop fucking playing, Barnes.” You whispered against his lips, grinding against his hard cock again. He closed his eyes and hissed in pleasure as you kissed down to his neck, nibbling on his skin along his throat. 

He moaned, hands gripping your hips and guiding you as you rubbed your bare core against his clothed erection. “No? I thought brats liked games?” He mumbled. 

You pulled away from his neck and looked down at his smug face. “You are so fucking annoying.” You reached down in between your bodies and lowered his sweatpants all the way down until he kicked them off. You grabbed his cock and stroked him gently, agonizingly slow. He moaned shamelessly, and eventually caught on that you were just teasing him even more. 

“Don’t tease me…” he sounded just as breathless as you were. 

“Why? Not so fond of games anymore?” you sassed, rubbing your throbbing core against his thigh while you stroked him so gently that he felt like he was losing his mind. 

He growled as he grabbed you by the waist and flipped the two of you around, him being on top again. “Enough,” he growled in your ear, “Spread those legs for me.” He ordered, settling in between them as you spread your legs to accommodate him. He grabbed your thighs and parted your legs even more as he aligned the tip of his cock to your opening. “Now stay still, don’t move.” 

You braced yourself for him, but nothing could have prepared you for that. His length stretched you open until he was seated deep inside you, filling you up entirely to a point where you couldn’t even think of anything else other than him being balls deep inside you. 

You moaned as he removed himself entirely and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to adjust to his size. He lowered his face again, and leaned into your ear, “Fuck….” you heard him moan; panting and swearing under his breath as he rocked into you. 

You were a moaning mess under him in no time. He kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you over and over again, making your eyes tear up. The burning need subsided a little bit as his cock brushed against all the right spots inside you. “Buck… faster, please,” You whimpered. 

He chuckled into your ear, “Needy little brat…” he mumbled as he sped up into you, making you lose your ability to focus on anything else other than him and his body. He pulled away from your face to look down at you, his metal hand coming up to wrap itself around your throat. “This is what you wanted since we left that lab, huh? For me to fuck your greedy little cunt? Hmm?” He taunted as he stretched you out completely. You lifted your legs up and wrapped them around his waist; allowing him to thrust deeper into you. 

You felt tears escaping your eyes as he pulled you closer and pressed his forehead to yours fucking deeper into you. He was relentless; each moan which left your lips only encouraged him to get more and more rough. 

You felt a pressure form in between your hips, your body begging for release. “Bucky… please.” You moaned, begging. For something, anything. You’d take anything at this point. But right when your walls started clenching around him and when you were just about to come undone; he pulled out. 

“Please what?” He surprised himself with how he was able to tease you in this situation when all he wanted was to make both of you cum over and over again. 

“I need to cum, Bucky please,” you cried, with tears in your eyes. 

Bucky leaned in to kiss your swollen lips, not minding the tears. “Do you deserve it?” He asked, and you nodded immediately, your body shaking with how bad you needed to cum. “Oh you do, do you?” 

You nodded again. “Please…please...” 

“Well since you asked nicely…” Bucky flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips and pushed himself inside you again. You felt his muscular body press against the curve of your ass as he filled you up again. 

He rocked into you from behind. His hand found its way to your front and he pressed the palm against your lower abdomen. He liked how he could feel himself deep inside you with each thrust. And he liked how that drove you insane, he could by the way your walls gripped his cock. 

“Feel that, little brat? That’s all you’re good for… to take my cock like a good little slut.” He whispered. 

You groaned at the sound of his raspy voice, his words making you milk him even harder. “You wish, you dipshit.” You moaned as he sped up when you least expected it. You whimpered, and he chuckled now that he had you at his mercy. 

His hand travelled all the way to your throat and he choked you gently as he bent down to whisper in your ear, “I can assure you that no one is ever gonna fuck you this good,” he boasted as he very gently squeezed the side of your throat. But hard enough to make you lose your mind.

You could only moan and whimper in response while he kept pounding into you incessantly. “Fuck… please....” you cried. 

You felt the pressure in between your hips grow until you couldn’t hold back anymore. You felt him quicken his pace as he chased his own orgasm. “Cum for me. Now.” 

You didn’t have to be told twice. You came undone, hard and fast; moaning his name as you did. Bucky came right after you. 

You collapsed onto your bed, sprawled unevenly and not even caring. Your eyes were shut in fatigue, your heart racing and you could feel Bucky’s body heat right next to you. He was catching his breath too, mumbling something under his breath which you couldn’t catch. 

For the first time in hours, you felt at ease. Your body wasn’t yearning anymore, but the hunger was still there. So when Bucky got up to leave, you grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back into bed with you. 

He smirked as he fell helplessly onto your bed again, right next to you. “You want more, you greedy little brat?” 

You punched his arm before getting up and getting on top of him again, sliding your body down his cock. He hissed as you did. 

“Just another round.” You whispered, loving the sight of him under you. His tan skin against your white sheets, him moaning as you slowly lifted up and sank back down on his cock. Oh fuck… 

You placed your hands on his muscular chest to hold yourself up as you sped up, riding him like you’ve been dreaming of this whole time. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you up and down his cock until you both found a pleasurable pace. 

You weren’t going to last too long, but you just needed to have him buried deep inside you again. His thick, girthy cock stretched you open as you took him as best you could, moaning and whimpering desperately as he groaned and gasped under you. 

Your walls gripping him and milking him like they had earlier, not even a few minutes ago. You felt the pressure forming nicely in between your hips again. You let out a loud moan as you felt his cock reach places it hadn’t before, turning you into a mess. 

His grip on your hips tightened as he brought you down on his cock with force each time and thrusting upwards to fuck you deeper. “Cum for me.” He threw his head back, growling. “Cum for me again…” 

Your hand grabbed him by the jaw and you leaned in to press your lips against his, claiming his open mouth and muffling his animalistic growls as you came undone around him again. Your orgasm then triggered his. 

You fell limp on top of him right after and he instinctively cradled your head. “You okay?” 

You nodded, your sweaty bodies pressed against each other but neither of you minding it. “Yeah.” 

Bucky gently rolled to his side, letting you down on your side of the bed. You tried your best to calm your racing heart. Not to mention you felt much, much better than earlier. 

Bucky got up to leave again, and you grabbed his hand before he got completely out of your bed. He turned to face you with a smirk then groaned dramatically, “Woman please, I’m not a machine. The pain will subside now, I believe we’ve done pretty good at fucking it out of our systems. I can’t go all night, seriously.” 

You were in a haze so his words made you giggle. “You’re really leaving?” 

He looked down at you, sprawled on your bed. Your face was glowing, you looked ethereal. “You want me to stay?” He asked, wondering where the sassy brat in you went. 

You nodded. 

He smirked, getting back into bed next to you, “What, now you're obsessed with me?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Shut up. I’m just saying since I might need you again in the morning, you might as well just sleep here.”  

He pretended to be hurt. “Wow.” He didn’t mind that at all. He got under the covers with you, “So… is it just the chemicals or are we…?” 

You snuggled closer to his side, he wrapped his arm around you, tucking your head under his chin. “Shh, I still hate you.” Your tired, soft voice reminded him of a sleepy kitten. 

He held you closer. “Of course.” He looked down at you and saw that you had already fallen asleep on his chest. He cracked a soft smile, whispering under his breath, “Brat.” 

[wormstacheangel]

Second part to the mixtape headcanon. Dean’s reaction to Cas being at his door in the middle of the night with the mixtape in hand.  

Dedicated to Liv ( @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie ) sorry it took me a while but here it is. Might not be what you expected but hopefully you enjoy it either way.

Cas stopped short in front of Dean’s door. His heart raced as he held the Walkman to his chest, clinging to the words he just heard, but he knew those words were years old. So much has changed in general, but between them, it felt like a still lake.

Since coming back, Dean has acted as if those dying words weren’t even spoken. Sometimes Cas wondered if he imagined the whole thing, but he knew the truth; Dean didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for them.

It was something Cas has accepted the last few weeks of being in the bunker, being home, but now, with Dean’s secret message, he felt the courage in him bubble up his throat.

Cas quickly knocked three loud, quick bangs with his fist before waiting for a response. He heard a groggy, “What?”

“Dean? May I—Can we talk?”

Cas didn’t hear an answer right away, and for a second, he thought maybe Dean fell back asleep; he knew it was the early morning hours but wasn’t quite sure of the exact time. Still, time never really meant anything to him before, but now, as a human, time has become precious, and he didn’t want to keep wasting it.

He took a deep, shaky breath, raising his fist to knock again, but the door then clicked open. Revealing a disheveled and disoriented Dean.

He leaned against the door frame wearing lemon patterned boxer briefs and a hand up his t-shirt to scratch at his chest, as he yawned before he blinked at Cas a few times, “Dude, it’s 3 am. What can’t wait ‘til morning?”

Cas swallowed his nerves down before looking down at the Walkman to take out the tape. He brought it up to Dean’s face, and with an earnest voice, he said, “You said to come ASAP. So I’m here.”

Dean only looked at the cassette tape; a small gasp of a breath raised his chest, but then his face scrunched up in the familiar fixed glare, so Cas continued knowing Dean won’t talk. Not yet anyway.

He put the cassette back into the Walkman as he talked, rewinding it to keep his nervous hands busy. “I believe I understood what you—what the songs mean, but I am still so new at all this. If I am wrong, I don’t want it hurting us.” Cas took a sneaky look back up at Dean to find him watching the Walkman with the same intensity Cas was.

It only took a few seconds, and then Dean was shuffling in the doorway as the first song, Ramble On, started to play through the headphones. With no other words, Dean opened his bedroom door open just a little more, an invitation to come in, before he walked back over to sit at the edge of his bed.

When Cas walked in, he closed the door behind him but stood awkwardly by it. He broke the silence first as he looked anywhere but at Dean.

“You know what, maybe this can wait until morning.”

“You already woke me up.” Cas looked up to meet Dean’s stare, it wasn’t cold, but it still sent a shiver down Cas’s spine. “So talk.”

Cas opened his mouth, not knowing what words he was even forming, but Dean stood with a hand up to stop him before any words were spoken.

“Actually, first, why are you bringing this up again? I gave you that thing years ago.”

Cas put the Walkman down on Dean’s desk, the music softer but still background music, before looking at Dean with guilty soft eyes, not knowing how to explain himself. “Yes. I just heard—I appreciate the gift, Dean. Thank you but-um.”

Dean seemed taken back by the words, and, by his hardening demeanor, Cas knew they were the wrong ones. Dean was building walls up again.

“You know what, Cas,” Dean scrubbed a hand down his face as he glared past Cas with an uneasy smile settled on his face. “I can’t do this right now. How about we leave the rejections for some other time? Yeah?”

Cas opened his mouth, confused, but Dean nodded.

“Good. Night, Cas.”

Oh. He was already being rejected. It made sense that Dean’s feelings changed after all this time. He must have been waiting for Cas to mention the message, but it’s too late now. He lost Dean’s love.

Cas reached for the Walkman, but now he wasn’t sure if he wanted to listen to those songs, understanding why Dean skips them now. So he fists up his hands, leaving the Walkman where it laid, before giving Dean a stiff nod in return.

“Understood. Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean didn’t say anything in return, his jaw clenching as he looked at anywhere but Cas. “And take your damn gift with you.”

Cas’s chest tightened at the words. He felt familiar pain spread through his body, one he wished had a physical reason than an emotional, psychological one because a fist to his chest would hurt less.

“I don’t want it anymore.” Cas spit out as he opened the bedroom door and walked out into the hallway. “Throw it away for all I care.”

He slams the door closed behind him and stalks to his room, slamming that door behind him as well.

Then as soon as he is in the safety of his own space, he can feel the pain making itself known, like a hot blade slowly cutting into him or something heavy sitting on his chest. Either way, he wanted it to stop. Wishing he never heard that message or that he heard it at the right time.

Cas laid wide awake in bed, curled up around a pillow he was hugging to his chest. He stared at the wall, wishing he had a better imagination to keep him entertained, but all he could see was Dean’s glare. The glare those green eyes dug into him really digging roots and pulling him apart from the inside out with an invisible pull.

He couldn’t go out there and face him now. Maybe, Cas should have just ignored the long-ago message. It was apparent Dean had lost those feelings for Cas; he would have brought up Cas’s dying words weeks ago if Dean felt remotely the same. Now Cas was left with an awkward situation he didn’t want to be a part of.

He needed to leave.

Cas knew that. This is how it always went. Cas needed to go.

Cas stood up to walk over to his desk to grab his wallet and keys before grabbing his coat, ready to sneak off before the sunrise. He’ll be gone before Dean can kick him out again.

He didn’t even get a chance to open his bedroom door before Dean was striding in with a determined glare, “Okay, fuck this, I think we really need to-” Dean stopped to look Cas up and down as his shoulders dropped. “You’re leaving.”

“I think—I think it’ll be best.”

Dean nodded, his bottom lip being sucked into his mouth as he stared back at Cas. “Sure. Just do what you do best. Runaway.” Dean threw whatever he held in his hand across the room and broke it with a loud bang. Cas flinched as he saw what it was, the Walkman. “Fuck if I care!”

Dean was already turning to walk away, but Cas grabbed hold of his arm to stop him. “Why are you so damn mad, Dean?” Cas walked to step in front of him. He moved until he finally locked eyes with the angry hunter. “I’m only doing this for you.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged Cas’s touch away. “Don’t bullshit me, Cas! You’re running away cause you don’t want to face me.” Dean poked Cas’s chest as he continued his angry rant. “Why don’t you start acting like a fucking man and face the damn consequences instead of being a little bitch and running away?”

Cas didn’t stand down as he glared back at Dean. “Enlighten me then. What would those consequences be?”

Cas took Dean’s finger and pulled it away from his chest, but it stayed in his grasp as he took a step forward, never taking his eyes off the familiar angry glare. The angry man he left behind still here after all those years, looking back at him with an ‘I dare you’ stare, but Cas could always read past those words. Dean was hurting.

“Why don’t you stop acting like a…like a little bitch, and just-!” Cas stopped with a loud sigh while he dropped Dean’s hand, along with his stare. Instead, he looked down at their socked feet. Dean was wearing pizza socks while Cas wore matching burger ones. They came in the same pack, and Dean split it up for them. He cracked a small smile thinking of that day before looking back up at Dean with pleading eyes. “Dean. I’m tired of this. Can you please just…Just talk to me?”

“Nothing more to talk about, Cas.” Dean sounded more defeated than angry now. “I got the message. Loud and clear.”

Cas blinked at him a few times. “Well, I’m sorry, but I apparently haven’t gotten the same message.”

“Don’t play dumb.” Cas just stood there staring at him, waiting for him to continue. “Geez, Cas, how many times are you going to fuck with my—I get it, dude, you don’t feel the same! I am doing my damn best here to be fucking normal about this, and then here you come bringing that old relic back as if—Did I fuck up somehow? Am I not giving you enough space?”

“I have enough space, Dean.” Cas tried to understand Dean’s words, process them, but they all felt just as jumbled in his mind as they did, leaving Dean’s mouth. “I—I’m sorry, I just don’t understand.”

“Shocker.”

“Did I understand the message wrong?” Cas ignored him as he asked, turning his head towards the shattering remains of his gift.

He felt his shoulders fall as a pang of sadness hit him from seeing his first gift broken. Cas walked towards it, hoping he would find the tape safely stored away inside the deck of the Walkman. He crouched to pick up the big chunk of plastic in his hand. It was smashed beyond repair, and the eject button was not working. Great, he’s going to have to break it more.

“ASAP,” Dean mumbled to himself, and Cas hummed in response, twisting the part in his hand.

“Yes. That’s what you said, so I did.”

“I told you to talk to me ASAP years ago, Cas.” Cas didn’t have to look up to know Dean was walking closer to him. “Did you just listen to the message?”

“I did.” Cas’s shoulders slumped in guilt. Dean has been waiting for a response all this time. “Sorry.”

“So when you were—when you tried to return the tape, that wasn’t a, um, a rejection?”

Cas looked up at him before he stood up, the broken Walkman in his hand. “I have loved you then like I love you now, Dean. I would never. Is that what you think happened?”

“Yes!” Dean took a step forward as he ran his hand through his hair, his eyes traveling down to the broken shards. “Shit. So wait, when you said you loved me, before the empty…did you mean,” Dean cleared his throat as he walked closer, nervously scratching his beard when he realized he didn’t have any pockets to hide his hands in. “Did you mean romantically? Like, like human romance?”

“I,” Cas felt his throat dry up as he tried to swallow a lump as he nodded earnestly. “I did. Yes.”

Dean looked at him, looking for something, and before Cas could ask what it was, Dean had his hands on either side of Cas’s face—pulling him in close until they were chest to chest. Then lips to lips.

Cas didn’t even realize he dropped the machine until he realized he had his hands on Dean’s skin. Feeling his body lift off the floor until he was being dropped on the bed, and Cas was watching something he never thought he would have or hear.

“I love you, Cas. I love you so much.”

Happiness isn’t always in the having, but fuck, this was so much better by a long shot.

[arvinsescape]

My hero

A/N: Hope you enjoy, foul language used a couple of times in this one.

Summary: A fan is rude to you and Tom jumps to your defense.

W/C: 2K... yeah it got pretty long, sorry.

The plane had landed not too long ago, you were still stretching out due the stiffness of being sat on an eight-hour flight. Tom doing the same, the both of you relatively tired and excited to get to your hotel room so that you could shower and remove the smell of plane that was sticking to the both of you. Tom interlocked your fingers as you made your way through the airport.

“There might be a few fans, but I promise that I’ll be as quick as possible so that we can get to the hotel, I cannot wait for a shower.” Tom said as he yawned.

“That’s okay Tom. They’re your fans take as long as you need with them, I don’t mind I promise.” You told him and you honestly meant it. You thought it was amazing the amount of love and support he received and that he deserved. He worked so hard and you knew that for a lot of fans it meant the world to actually meet and speak to him. Tom smiled at you appreciatively, your patience and kindness really amazed him at times.

As predicted the minute you stepped into view the fans approached. You’d been with Tom for over three years, so you were used to it. You took a step to the side, wanting as many fans as possible to get things signed and speak to him, not wanting to get in the way. You waited patiently as he signed pictures and took them, he smiled at you every now and again as he engaged in conversation with some of the fans.

You’d been stood around for a good ten minutes or so watching in awe as the small amount of people showed their love and support of your boyfriend. You were quite lucky today as you’d kept the trip quiet and not many fans had found out about the holiday you were having. You watched as a girl approached you. You were also quite used to his fans asking you for pictures and having small conversations with you. Most of his fans were incredibly sweet and lovely towards you, some weren’t and you’d gotten more used to that over the years but most of the fans that you met in public that were rude usually just ignored you and sent you nasty looks which were hurtful but easier to deal with.

Assuming she was going to ask for a picture, you sent her a small smile and she just glared at you in return as she continued to make her way towards you. Your smile dropped a little as you took in her expression, not sure how this exchange would play out. Hoping stupidly that this would end well. She continued to make her way towards you and stopped right in front of you. You stole a quick glance in Tom’s direction but he was having a conversation with three fans and his back was towards you. You looked back at the girl and forced a smile.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” You asked politely as you swallowed hard, her face was still hard as stone as she looked at you.

“Nothing. I just came to tell you a few home truths is all.” Oh, fuck, you thought. This was not going to end well.

“Okay..?” you answered hesitantly.

“I just want you to know that I don’t think you’re good enough for him. I think he can do better, he should be with someone who is more attractive and has a much more interesting life.” She shrugged as she spoke.

“I think that’s between me and Tom. No disrespect but it’s not really your place to say those things.” You answered as politely as possible, you could feel your heart in your throat. Some of your insecurities coming to the front of your mind. Insecurities that you and Tom had worked hard on over the years and although you knew how Tom felt and you knew how much he loved you, you couldn’t help those small insecurities that you had at the beginning of your relationship making a reappearance.

“Well you have a public relationship, so I think it’s everyone’s business.” She sneered. “I mean what is it you actually offer him? You don’t do anything, you leech of him and he works with women who are far prettier than you. We’re all just waiting for the day he decides to leave you, honestly.” You glanced at Tom as she spoke, he still had his back to you. You felt the tears welling in your eyes as well as the anger but you didn’t want to make a scene, didn’t want to ruin Tom’s reputation by saying the wrong thing. Your insecurities were well and truly taking over at her words. What was her problem? You were used to people being cruel but usually you could just log out of social media and didn’t have to look at this. This you couldn’t escape.

The girl noticed your tears and laughed. “What? Going to cry because you know I’m right? I really don’t know what he sees in you, seriously.” She continued to laugh as a few tears made there way down your cheeks. You were lost for words, you didn’t know what to say so you just kept quiet.

One of the fans that had been talking to Tom noticed you and wanted to get a picture with you, she was about to make her way over when she noticed you look frantically at Tom and noticed the tears that were falling along with the girl that was laughing at you and taunting you. Although she couldn’t hear what was going on she gathered that this girl was upsetting you. She turned back to Tom as she interrupted something he was saying.

“Erm, Tom?”

“Yes?” He asked with a smile, although she interrupted him, he decided to let it slide, he didn’t want to be known as one of those famous people that was rude to his fans.

“I think Y/N might need your help.” She said as she pointed in your direction. He furrowed his brows and turned around to look for you. His heart dropped when your eyes connected, he could see the pain in them as well as the tears. He glanced at the girl stood near you and furrowed his brows further as he made his way over. The three other fans following carefully behind.

As he approached, he saw the relief on your face as he enveloped you in his strong arms. “Are you okay?” he whispered into your ear as he kissed your temple. You just nodded not wanting to tell him, you knew how protective he got over you and didn’t want to cause a scene, you’d tell him later. Unfortunately, he wasn’t satisfied with the answer, he guessed what was wrong as he’d watched the girl taunt you on his way over. Unfortunately for her she spoke up.

“Tom! Oh my God, I’ve been waiting to ask you for a picture and to sign some of my posters. I was just having a talk with Y/N while I waited.” She spoke. Tone completely different to the one she’d used with you. Tom tensed, yeah, he knew what was going on, he was just thinking of the best way to handle it. The fans that had followed kept a distance but made sure they were in ear shot.

“Oh yeah? And what were you talking about?” He answered in a stoic manner as he turned to face her. You grabbed his hand in an attempt to calm him down.

“I was just telling her how the fans feel about her, that’s all.” She replied vaguely as she smiled up at Tom. It was like you could feel the anger radiating off his body, you squeezed his hand.

“Tom, don’t. It’s okay.” You pleaded with him.

“No Y/N it’s not. What did she say? She’s clearly upset you, so what did she say?”

“Tom really it doesn- “

“I was just telling her some home truths is all. She just didn’t like it, she was being sensitive if you ask me.” The girl interrupted you as she rolled her eyes. “I think you’re getting a little defensive Tom, how do you know she wasn’t rude to me first? You’ve just jumped straight to her defense.” This girl.

“So, you were rude to her? And I don’t believe for a single second that she was rude to you. Strangely enough when you’ve been with someone for over three years you understand what sort of a person they are. If you can’t be kind towards Y/N then I really don’t want anything to do with you. You will get nothing from me, I promise you that.” He answered, his temper flaring as he slightly raised his voice.

“Look, I just want a couple of pictures and then I’ll go. I only said what other fans are thinking. I’m sorry if she didn’t like it.”

“Like I just said, you’re getting nothing from me. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to enjoy my holiday with the love of my life. I sincerely invite you to unfollow me and not continue your support of my work. I really don’t need or want people like you associated with me, if you can’t support my life choices then I don’t want to know. Have a lovely day.” He said as he grabbed started to walk away, interlocking your fingers. “Thank you everyone else for coming, it was lovely to meet you.” He turned back and smiled at the fans who had actually been a delight too meet. You made your way through the airport and into the taxi.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that darling.” He sighed as he got himself comfy in the back seat.

“It’s okay, you didn’t have to do that you know?”

“I did. She had no right to make you cry like that. I don’t know what she said but whatever it was it’s fucking bullshit, I can tell you that much. I love you and only you.” He said as he let his anger wash away.

“Thank you Tom. I love you too.” You knew once you got back to the hotel you’d have a proper conversation about what had been said and you knew he’d help you put those insecurities back where they were before that girl had walked up to you. He smiled at you as he held your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of your hand, your stomach doing flips at the action.

Later on as you were waiting for Tom to get out of the shower so that you could go to the pool and forget about this horrific day, you found yourself on twitter. You saw that Tom was trending. Oh shit, he’s probably going to be getting slated for being rude to that girl. You decided to have a quick look and was shocked with what you found. The three fans that had been talking to Tom had videoed the exchange and were openly showing support for you. This snowballed of course with it being the internet and twitter was flooded with people being supportive of you and Tom, applauding him for the way he handled it. You smiled at him as he made his way out of the bathroom, ready to head to the pool.

“You’re popular online.” You teased.

“Oh, fucking hell, what’ve people been saying? Should I be expecting a call from my publicist?” He groaned.

“No, I don’t think so. Everyone is applauding you for jumping to my defense.”

“Yeah well, she deserved it and I don’t feel guilty whatsoever.”

You got up from the bed and made your way over to him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as you kissed his lips. “My hero.” You teased as you whispered against his lips. He laughed in response as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a heart racing kiss.

[dongofthewolf]

Dancing in the Deepest Oceans- Chapter 3

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

Your first date with Abby doesn’t go quite as planned.

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury, swearing, angst, hurt/comfort, uhhh yea I did that

Here’s chapter three! It definitely took way longer than I expected to do since I really wanted to get a lot of those requests done, so I’m v sorry about that.

Also I kinda cheated and included someone’s request for a bath scene with Abby in this so shhhhh it’s fine I’m just lazy productive like that okay LOL. I hope you all enjoy (esp if you requested the scene) ! :)

Read the previous chapter here

You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. You felt like the protagonist in one of those cheesy rom-coms from back in the day; the ones where the girl suddenly stumbles into the arms of her true love and everyone sings a happy song, except this isn’t a movie and also it’s kind of the apocalypse or whatever. You didn’t care though, this was the closest thing to rom-com perfection you were getting and you couldn’t complain, because it was with her.

Though you had only known Abby for a few short days, something inside you couldn’t help but feel like you had known her your entire life. The intimacy of those few stolen glances, the slight brushes of your shoulders, the way your hand fit perfectly in hers; it all felt so natural. You just hoped she felt the same way. 

--

She should be here.

You glanced down at your watch again, it was 8:15. Maybe you had heard her wrong? No, she definitely said eight o clock. Your mind swarmed with possible excuses as to why she wasn’t here; perhaps she thought you were meeting at seven and now she was the one who thought you were standing her up, or maybe she thought you guys were meeting at your room and this was the fault of some kind of miscommunication, or maybe she simply forgot. You racked your brain for any possibilities as to why she wasn’t here, trying your best to neglect the most obvious reason out of denial or maybe fear.

The hallway was dark and quiet, the tile floor cold against your skin as you sat with your knees tucked tightly against your chest. Your back ached from leaning against the steel door, and you had become increasingly more embarrassed every time someone passed by. Their lingering gazes made you want to disappear into the earth beneath you. 

For at least an hour, you sat outside her door contemplating whether or not you should wait for her. Was this whole thing a mistake? Your heart began to sink at the frightening possibility that she had been toying with your feelings this whole time, that you were just a naive girl with a childish crush on this person you barely even knew. God, how could you have been so stupid? This is exactly why you never formed attachments; they always ended in heartbreak, disappointment, or both. As more time passed, the fear and sadness that occupied your thoughts slowly began to fade into frustration.

This was dumb. Why were you waiting around for her like some lost kitten? You scoffed at how pathetic you felt. Anger began to rise in your chest as you thought of all the things you’d say to her when you saw her—how you’d scold her for standing you up, dreaming up this gigantic speech about how if she wasn’t interested she should’ve just told you. Or maybe instead of yelling you would just never speak to her again. Give her the silent treatment for the rest of your life. That is what she wanted anyways, right? 

As you sat there arguing silently with yourself you heard a pair of heavy footsteps headed towards you. You craned your neck to try and see who or what was approaching you, but the hallway was too dark to get a clear view. Panic quickly replaced the anger that had been occupying your heart just seconds ago as you stood up from your uncomfortable position. You could hear the adrenaline pumping in your ears as you squint your eyes at the dark figure headed towards you. A sudden rush of relief fell over you when a familiar face appeared out of the shadows.

“Y/N.” Manny emerged from the darkness. His hair was slicked back into a bun and he wore a nervous expression on his face. The sole of his boots were caked with a thick layer of mud that left a trail of footprints in the hallways, and you pitied the poor soul who would have to clean it up.

“Where’s Abby?” There was a sharpness to your words. You knew you should've been a bit more conversational (Manny had done nothing to you after all), but after sitting on the floor for an hour, you didn’t feel like wasting time on bullshit small talk. If Abby was going to send Manny to get rid of you instead of doing it herself, then the last thing you cared about right now was seeming polite.

“Right, about that…” You raised your eyebrow, Manny’s expression was difficult to interpret and you could tell he was here to break some kind of news to you, but for some reason it felt like whatever bomb he was about to drop was far worse than what you had expected.

“Manny, what’s going on?” You took a small step towards him, searching his face for an answer.

“Isaac sent Abby and I on a supply run this morning. Nothing too difficult, just transporting a few things to another base but…” Manny looked down at his feet as he contemplated his next words “but we ran into a group of scars on our way back and we got separated.”

You suddenly felt a tinge of guilt for thinking all those things about Abby. “W-what do you mean you got separated? Where’s Abby now?” 

Manny’s eyes were fixed to the floor as he delivered the news, his thumbs twiddling together nervously. “I uh… well, I don’t know.” Manny noticed your face twist with anger at his answer and tried to diffuse some of it “But Isaac’s already sent out a group to find her. It’s going to be okay Y/N, Abby is one of Isaac’s top soldiers and you know he’ll do whatever he can to find her.”

You were speechless, but more than anything you were frustrated. Frustrated at yourself for thinking such horrible things about Abby—for having such little faith in her. You wanted to scream at your past self for being so ignorant. Tears began to well in your eyes and Manny’s words did little to comfort you.

“I should be out there.” You marched down the hallway determined to find Abby but Manny was quicker.

His hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you back “You can’t go out there Y/N, you’ll die. Abby’s smart, okay? She’ll find her way back.” 

You tried to resist his grip on your wrist even though you knew he was right. You weren’t a soldier nor did you have the proper training to leave the outpost alone. And while a large part of you knew it was stupid to try and leave, a much bigger part of you didn’t care. You had to find Abby; you were willing to do anything, even if that meant putting yourself in harm's way. 

“I don’t care, I have to go out there.” You managed to yank yourself free from his grip and booked it towards the door but Manny was quick and caught you. Wrapping his arms around your stomach and hoisting you over his shoulder Manny carried you into his and Abby’s room while you fought and cried like a little kid. 

“Fucking let go of me Manny!” Tears stained your cheeks as you sobbed into Manny’s shirt. 

When Manny finally set you down on his bed you were exhausted from crying; the only thing left in your heart now was an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. You weren’t even allowed to leave the outpost to look for Abby, and the only thing you could do was sit in this wretched room praying she didn’t get mauled by a clicker or hung by a Seraphite. 

Manny didn’t feel any better about this than you did, in fact it was his job as Abby’s partner to watch out for her and he failed. Now his best friend was missing and it’s all his fault. The guilt weighed heavily on Manny as he tried to comfort you while you wept silently into his pillow. Even though he couldn’t have possibly predicted the surprise attack, he still felt like this entire thing was his doing. He tried to plead with Isaac to let him go back out and search for Abby but he refused, so Manny figured keeping you safe was the least he could do. 

Hours later you got up from Manny’s bed to use the bathroom, and he was nowhere to be found. You figured he probably went to bother Isaac about Abby or something, he was persistent like that.

You splashed some cold water on your face before tipping your head under the faucet to help ease the dryness in your throat. When you brought your head back up you almost didn’t recognize the person staring back at you in the mirror. Your eyes were red and puffy and there were dark circles under your eyes like you haven’t slept in days. You looked like a mess. Your hair was wild and unruly but at least with that outfit you had spent way too long picking out, you still looked pretty cute. 

At least you were a hot mess.

The longer you stared at yourself in the mirror, the more unrecognizable your face became. And then for reasons you couldn’t explain, you started laughing. A hysterical laugh that echoed off the walls in the bathroom like a sick symphony fell unwillingly from your mouth, and you couldn’t stop. There was something so incredibly sardonic about the events of these past few hours, that your body just decided to break out into a breathless cackle. It was a twisted reaction to a terrifying situation but for some reason it wouldn’t go away. Your stomach began to ache and your throat was dry and sore again. It felt like this sickening nightmare would never end. 

You felt tears begin to well up again when you heard something that immediately shook you from your shocked state: the rattling of the doorknob.

Your heart swelled with hope as you ran towards the door, not concerned about waking up the people in the rooms next door with your loud footsteps. The door creaked open, flooding the dark room with a pale yellow light that blinded you, and from that light emerged a figure you knew all too well— one that you had become intimately familiar with.

Abby limped through the door, at first not even realizing you were standing right there. You were looming in the darkness like some kind of monster, and you tried to speak but nothing came out. The only thing that snapped you out of it was the sound of Abby’s voice, hoarse and hushed like she was speaking into the darkness rather than you. God, you almost forgot how much you loved the sound of her voice. 

“Y/N?” Abby wasn’t sure if she was imagining this. She thought maybe the expired pain meds had some hallucinatory side effects and you were just what she wanted to see the most. Abby’s doubts faded into nothing when you took a small step into the light. In that moment she knew that this was real—that you were real.

When your eyes finally adjusted to the harsh lights you saw her face and gasped. To say Abby was in rough shape would be putting it lightly. There were cuts and bruises all over her face and body, and her clothes were absolutely filthy, but you couldn’t be bothered with that right now. You ran into her arms to embrace her tightly and Abby winced at the contact. Quickly you pulled back out of fear you hurt her, but Abby’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you back in.

Abby let out a loud exhale and for a small moment the jabbing pains all over her body ceased to exist. The only thing occupying her mind was the warmth of your body—how she could feel your heart beating with how tightly she was holding you, and she could finally exhale.

When you pulled away, a flood of emotions suddenly began to flow through you, filling you to the brim until the only words you could manage to mutter out through choked sobs were “I thought you were-“

“I know. I’m sorry.” There was a somber expression on Abby’s face as she wiped the tears from your cheek with the pads of her thumbs. 

You sniffed, looking up at her, you cleared your throat before speaking “Jesus Abby, your face.“ you softly grabbed Abby’s chin, examining her injuries in the light. There were crimson slices all over her face, and she was beaten black and blue. A particularly deep cut on her forehead had been stitched carefully and there was a cotton bandage wrapped around her left forearm. The state of your distress now seemed like peanuts compared to Abby’s state.

Without thinking you hugged Abby again tightly, revelling in the comfort of her embrace. Abby’s eyes were closed when you wrapped your arms around her, her eyebrows were furrowed and you weren’t sure if she was about to cry or scream. Though you didn’t know much about Abby, you did know she was a soldier—a warrior who wasn’t disturbed easily. You had no idea what she had just been through, but whatever happened had shaken her up pretty good. 

“Here.” Bringing your arms up to the strap of her backpack, you helped her ease it off her shoulder. She let out a breath of relief as you lifted the weight from her back and placed it near the door. 

Looking at Abby now you finally realized how dirty she was. There was mud and grime all over her clothes and her braid was loose and unruly. 

“Hey, uh I’ll run a bath for you, just wait here.” Considering her state you figured a bath would be more relaxing than a shower. Besides, you needed to feel useful right now, and if that meant taking care of Abby for a bit? You didn’t mind at all.

Hesitantly, you made your way to the bathroom and laid out a small towel on the tile floor. Turning on the faucet, you placed the plug in the tub and made your way to Abby, guiding her to the edge of the tub. “Let me know if the water is too hot, okay?”

Abby nodded as she ran her hand under the running water, letting the warmth fall between her fingers. When the tub was full, you turned off the faucet and stood up, using Abby’s shoulders to help steady you as you started for the door but something stopped you. 

“Wait-“ You stopped, Abby’s hand was over the one you placed on your shoulder, securing it there so you wouldn’t leave. She looked at you with pleading eyes as she spoke “Can… can you stay?” Abby didn’t say anything more but you could tell by the look in her eyes she needed you here. 

“Sure. I’ll turn around and you can get undressed.” You turned to face the door, looking down at the tile floor as you traced the crevices with your finger. The only sound that could be heard was the droplets of water that fell from the faucet echoing against the walls and the soft rustling of Abby removing her clothes. Eventually you heard Abby lower herself into the tub, she let out a loud sigh as the tension in her muscles dissipated from the warm water.

“You can turn around now.” Abby’s voice was quiet when she finally spoke.

Slowly you turned around to see Abby sitting in the tub, her legs tucked against her chest as she hugged herself tightly. Her eyes were fixed on the floor of the tub while she rested her chin on her knee. It broke your heart when you saw her injuries in the light. There were deep purple bruises along her shoulder blades and scabbed over cuts along her arms and legs. You also saw scars, a lot of them. Some were old and faded, while others were new, probably sustained within the last couple of weeks.

The steam from the water floated up, fogging the mirrors and warming the room. You made your way to the edge of the tub with a small washcloth, dipping it into the water just slightly. “Here.”

Bringing your finger to Abby’s chin you lifted her eyes to face yours. Her features softened when you met her gaze and lightly you brought the washcloth to her face. Careful to avoid the stitches on her forehead, you rid the dirt from her face, dipping the cloth into the water every once in a while before bringing it back to her face.

Her freckles were more prominent in the light and her eyes stuck attentively studying your movements. When all the grime was gone, you couldn’t help but notice a whisper of a blush on Abby’s cheeks. 

“One hell of a first date, huh?” Abby spoke seriously but you could see a hint of a smirk on the edge of her mouth. A bit of her normal self was beginning to return.

Sitting up more straight now you gave her a small smile. “This is definitely the most interesting one I’ve ever been on.” 

You reached for her braid, undoing the elastic and separating the strands from each other while Abby spoke. “Oh so you’ve never bathed someone during a first date?”

“I can confidently say that this is my first.” Grabbing the small bar of soap from the dish in the corner, you dipped it into the water and lathered it between your fingers. 

The soap filled the air with the scent of pine and rain and you sighed at the smell. It filled your senses and reminded you of the first time you saw her. Not the time in the cafeteria but on that rainy day when you bumped into her for the first time. You inhaled deeply; it smelled like her.

Gently you began massaging the bubbles into Abby’s hair. Weaving the blonde locks through your fingers, and purposely taking longer than necessary. Watching closely as Abby’s muscles relaxed and her eyes fluttered closed from your touch. 

“Lean back.” Shielding her face from the water you grabbed a cup and poured the water over her head, letting the bubbles wash away from her scalp and into the water. “Is this okay?” 

Abby hummed in response and you took that as a yes. You repeated the process while you washed the soap from her hair, doing it a couple more times than needed because you knew it calmed her. 

The bathroom was quiet again, the only sound coming from the steady flow of water from the cup onto her head, and into the water. It was peaceful, and the both of you were content in this familiar silence. Appreciating each other’s company without the need to fill the air.

When you were done you sat up and laid out a towel for Abby, drying your hands on your shirt. “I’ll grab you some clean clothes, just give me a sec.” 

You left Abby to dry off while you searched for some clean clothes. Grabbing what you assumed was a clean shirt and a pair of sweatpants, you made your way back to the bathroom. Standing outside the door, you knocked lightly. “Can I come in?” 

Before you could wait for an answer, Abby opened the door a bit, hiding herself behind it. You handed Abby the clothes and she gave you an appreciative smile, it was small but genuine. “Thanks.” 

You sat beside the bathroom door waiting for Abby and trying not to think about the fact that she could’ve died out there. She was here and that’s all that mattered for now.

Your mind wandered as you picked at your sleeve, you noticed there were a few wet spots on your shirt from the edge of the tub. The cool air made you shiver and you regretted not bringing a sweater, even if this was supposed to be a night in. 

When Abby finally emerged from the bathroom you quickly stood up, unsure of what to do next. Her hair was still damp and spread across her shoulders; this was the first time you had ever seen her without that signature braid and you were in awe of how beautiful she looked. It was such a strange thought but it was the only thing occupying your mind. There was something so rare about seeing her like this that you couldn’t stop the flutter in your heart when it happened. 

Grabbing her hand, you led her to the bed on the opposite side of Manny’s and pulled the covers back so she could slip in. When she settled under the sheets you neatly tucked her in before standing up again. 

You didn’t know what to do now. Would it be rude to stay? Abby clearly needed the rest, but something in you desperately wanted to stay. You decided to let her sleep and started towards the door when you heard a small voice from beneath the covers. “Stay. Please.”

Abby’s voice was quiet and you could hear the exhaustion behind it. You looked at her with a smile and sat down on the bed next to her, pushing a strand of hair from her forehead before smoothing it down softly. She looked at you apologetically as you caressed her head, and  you gave her a look of reassurance even if you were scared out of your mind. Her eyes fluttered closed and her features softened from your touch. You stayed like this for a while, continuing even after her breathing had slowed and you knew she was asleep.

You stayed up watching her sleep; studying the way her mouth was slightly agape as she let out small breaths. She looked so peaceful.

A small teardrop escaped from your eye, and you quickly wiped it away. You knew this wasn’t going to be the last time she’d be like this; battered and bruised and fighting a war that seemed to never end. It hurt your heart to know that she was on this path of self-destruction, but what hurt most was knowing she’d likely never stop. 

You tried not to think about that right now. Eventually letting your attention fall onto the wet shirt that was still stuck to different parts of your body. Removing the item you walked over to the drawer where you had found the clothes for Abby and slipped on one of her t-shirts. It was devastatingly oversized on you but it was warm and smelled like her. 

You settled onto the space next to Abby’s bed, ignoring the ache in your back as you lay flat on the floor beneath you. Though the pain was worth enduring with the knowledge that Abby was here, and that’s all that mattered to you right now. 

While you lay on the floor you began thinking about how different things were just hours ago. It wasn’t long ago that you were practically dancing like an idiot in your mirror because you were going on a date with Abby. It’s strange how many emotions you had gone through in one day, you were almost positive you had broken some kind of record. You chuckled at yourself; surely no one was going to spontaneously break out into a song like in the movies, but you didn’t mind. This was enough— being here with Abby was enough. 

Eventually, exhaustion overtook your body and you quickly felt your eyes becoming heavier. The floor was beginning to feel a lot more comfier than when you had sat down and before you knew it, you had fallen into a deep slumber.

[once-upon-a-oneshot]

Friends with Benefits

Summary: You and Calum are friends with benefits, but what happens when one of you starts to want something more

Genre: Frat!Calum

Warnings: swearing, sexual themes

Word Count: ~900

“Same time tomorrow?” Calum asks as you clumsily climb out of his bed and search around the room for the panties you arrived in.

“Um,” As you reach under the bed, you feel the silk material in a crumbled heap. You pull it out only to realize that these are not the panties you wore here. In fact, they aren’t even yours. “I actually have plans.” You continued, throwing the panties away from you and wiping your hand on your still bare thigh.

“Plans?” Calum’s tone is doubtful, almost even mocking. But you’re too busy scowering the room for your panties to notice.

“Yep.” Deciding to abandon your search for your undergarments, you grab your pants off the foot of the bed and shimmy them on. “So, looks like you’re going old school tomorrow. Just you, yourself, and Miss Righty.” 

The way you grin to yourself as you pull your shirt over your head annoys him. He hates for any one, especially just some girl he hooks up with, to feel that they’ve got anything over him.

“Bold of you to assume you’re the only girl I call when I need to get off.” He pushes, raising an eyebrow at you. Uninterestedly you roll your eyes at him.

“Not only,” you smirk to yourself, “but best.” He’s trying to best you, but you’re not like all the other insecure girls he messes around with. You know what you’ve got, and you know what it’s worth.

“Again,” it was Calum’s turn to smirk at you. “Bold assumption”. Your only response it to roll your eyes as you bend over to pull on your shoes.

“I mean, for the past three weeks you’ve called me, what,” You turn your eyes towards the ceiling and scrunch your face pretending to think. For added measure you use one finger to solve an imaginary equation in the air. “Oh that’s right, every night.”

You won’t back down. But Calum won’t either.

“Yea, and who do you think I’ve called every morning?” Calum smirks triumphantly. You say nothing as you grab your purse and head for the door.

“Good, then call one of them.” You say it and mean it. Just like it was for Calum, to you this arrangement was simply a business transaction. A mutual exchange of sexual favors. Nothing more. 

“See ya.” You call over your shoulder as you finally walk out of the room. Leaving Calum naked and alone in his bed.

*****CALUM’S POV*****

Friday night. Exactly 22 hours since I last got off. I’m not OCD or anything. It’s just that over the years I’ve found that keeping a strict “booty-call” schedule made it easier to keep track of my endeavors. Not to mention it prevents the always awkward “two booty-calls running into each other” situation. If you’ve never experienced one chick leaving your room half naked, while another chick is walking in ready to smash, trust me – you don’t want to go there. However, it did make for some pretty hot hate-sex.

Not that the schedule really mattered much lately. There was really only one time to account for. (Y/N)’s time. Every night for the past couple weeks. 10 o’clock on the dot is her call time. Usually she won’t get here until about midnight, but that works out perfectly for me. The later it is the less likely she’ll be to try and hang out, or some shit, afterwards.

Throwing the weight of my body on the bed, I pull my phone out of my tight jean pocket and call her.

It’s not until she doesn’t answer that I remember about the bullshit “plans” she told me she had.  Whether they are real or not, they’ll just have to wait. Because right now, I need her. Well, my dick does anyway.

I call again. This time the phone rings twice and then goes straight to voicemail.

She sent me to voicemail.

This is probably all just some elaborate scheme to make me think she actually has better things to do than fuck me.

Two can play at that game

I toss my phone on the bed and head towards the bathroom. The sound of my phone vibrating on the bed makes me stop in my tracks. I smile to myself and eagerly make a move for the phone.

Eagerly? Why are you eager?

I blame it on my being horny. I can’t help the way my face falls with disappointment when it’s my friends contact name on my screen instead of hers.

Disappointment?

I must be really, really, horny.

“What?” I bark annoyed. It’s not actually him I’m bothered by, but he’s the one who’s available.

“Dude, where are you?” he’s yelling into the phone, and I can hear loud music blaring in the background.

“My room?” I don’t know what he wants, but if he doesn’t tell me soon this conversation is going to end.

“Oh, I figured you were at that Phi Delta party?”

“Well, I just told you I’m in my room.” I snap. “Why the hell would I be at some frat party?”

I’m far from the type. All those preppy douchebags. Running around with their gelled-hair, short shorts, and flip flops. What real man wears flip-flops other than to the beach? And even that is pushing it.

“Yea but-” the sound of his voice pulls me back to reality from my internal rant. “Your little fuck-buddy’s here so I figured-”

“Who?” I interrupt.

“Uh, you know that one chick. The one you rated best rack!”

“(Y/N)?!” I don’t know why but knowing that she was ignoring my calls, while she was probably running around with some douchey frat guy irritated me.

“Yea! Yea dude her! She looks-” Before he can even finish his sentence, I hang up the phone and grab my keys. I don’t know why I going to the party or what I’ll do when I get there, but right now all I can think about is (Y/N) laying in bed with a douche in flip-flops.

As I finally pull up in front of the huge trashy house, none of the irritation has left my body. Taking long strides, I make my way in the house and navigate through all the drunk teens determined to find (Y/N). I do a quick scan of the living room, the kitchen, the backyard, but she’s nowhere to be seen. With every room I check off the list, my fears of her being locked in one of those bedrooms upstairs with some guy grows.

Just as I’m about to storm up the stairs and kick in every door, I spot her walking through the front door, with a guy following close behind. The type of guy who looks like he wears flip flops. As I watch her grin from ear to ear, I can feel anger rumbling deep in my stomach. Suddenly the house feels hot. Too hot.

My eyes follow them into the kitchen. I count to 10, and I head towards the kitchen too.

“Wooow, hey.” I fake shocked to be running into (Y/N) here.

“Calum.” Her statement sounds more like a question as her eyes go wide.

“Plans huh?” My eyes shift to the tool standing too close to her. I mean come on its burning up in here. Definitely, too hot to be standing that close to someone.

“Yea. Uh Corey this is Calum, Calum this is my friend Corey.” Friend? Her friend Corey? And what I’m? Just Calum? What she should’ve said was ‘Douchebag this is the guy who fucks me better than anyone ever has be-‘

“Nice to meet you man.” Douchebag interrupts my perverse thoughts and reaches out to shake my hand. I don’t want to take it. Who knows where those fingers have been.

Hopefully not in her.

I choke on my own thoughts as my breathe gets caught in my throat. I burst into a fit of coughs and (Y/N) and Douchebag just stare at me like I just grew another head. Douchebag pushes his cup towards me and I take it. As I chug down the beer from his cup, I swear I can taste (Y/N)’s pussy on the rim.

His lips better have not gone anywhere near her.

I can’t stop the thoughts going through my head, or the places my fucked-up imagination keeps taking me, but I know it needs to stop.

I finish off Douchebag’s drink and hand the empty cup back to him. I can feel the alcohol immediately. My muscles ease ever so slightly and I’m starting to function like a normal human being again. I need to regain control of this situation.

“So,” I chose to not even address whatever the hell was going on with me a minute ago. “This is the hot date (Y/N) was all giddy about.” I challenge her.

“You told him this was a date?” Douchebag raises an eyebrow and turns his attention to (Y/N) who’s shooting me daggers with her eyes.

“Well I didn’t use those words exactly.” She says through gritted teeth.

“Damn this is embarrassing,” He continues. I smirk to myself and wait for the show to begin. “Because ... I’ve been telling everyone it was.”

Douche, and I can’t stress this enough, bag.

I can’t help but roll my eyes and scoff, which I play off as another cough.

“You Calum, should take care of that cough, and you Corey, follow me to the beer pong table.” I watch as she grabs his hand and pulls him back towards the living room.

I decide to stay in the kitchen and continue adding alcohol to my system. The liquor burns my throat but for the time being it stops the weird thoughts in my head and helps me think more clearly. I mean obviously I’m not jealous or anything because, why the hell would I be. He’s a douche yea, but not because he’s here with the chick I occasionally fuck. And obviously I’m not irritated with her just because she’s here with a douche. It’s just that I needed to get my dick wet and she ignored my call to be here with said douche. Like he’s somehow more important than me getting off.

I stumble back into the living room and find a spot on the couch. Of course from where I’m sitting I have the perfect view of the beer pong table, and therefore the perfect view and Miss Thing and her new boy toy.

I sit watching them as I down beer after beer. My eyes follow (Y/N) intently as she finally walks away from the table towards the kitchen again. Without thinking, my feet are carrying me to the kitchen right behind her.

“Are you like stalking me now Calum?” she spins on her heels noticing me trailing her.

“Fiesty.” I wink at her. She just rolls her eyes and continues over towards the punch bowl to refill her cup. “I just wanted to tell you how good you look tonight.” I lick my lips while allowing my eyes to rake up and down her body, paying particular attention to her breasts.

“Fuck off.” She rolls her eyes at me while shaking her head. She knows this is a game, and she’s fighting hard not to lose.

“Damn,” I place one hand on her neck tilting her head to the side. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.” I make a move to attach my lips to her neck and she lets me. And I know I’ve won. I suck at the sensitive skin and try to push my body closer to hers. “Let me take you upstairs.” I whisper into her neck.

“See I would,” she speaks but doesn’t move away from me. “But, I have a hot date to get back to.” She finally pulls away from me. “I’m just so giddy about it.” She’s mocking me. She smirks as she brushes past me leaving me and my bulge alone in the kitchen.

One hour, and too many shots later I’m still here. At this stupid frat house with these stupid people. I could’ve just gone home, but something keeps me here. I think it’s my obsession with beating (Y/N). Finally proving to her that she should’ve been in my bed with me tonight. Not here with what’s his face. When the first bit of alcohol entered my system, it helped keep my thoughts from running wild. Now that it’s pulsing through my veins as thick as my blood, the thoughts have returned.

I sit on the stairs, watching as (Y/N) grinds her perfect ass against Corbin, or whatever the hell his name was. It makes me sick. He slides his hands down her hips. He could never navigate her body as well as I do – even if she drew him a map. I’m the one that knows all the right places to touch her. I’m the one who knows all the right buttons to push. My name is the name she calls out while I pound into her.

The alcohol is mixing with my lust and my anger and it’s pushing me.

Douchebag spins (Y/N) around and wraps his hands in her hair.

The way that I do.

He tries to lean in and kiss her, but just before his lips meet hers, I’m pushing him off of her. My mind is confused but my fist are determined. I tackle him to the ground and start beating the shit out of him.

“Calum! CALUM GET OFF OF HIM!” (Y/N)’s voice pulls me off of him when no one else has been able to. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I don’t know how to answer her, because truthfully, I don’t know what I’m doing. I stand there glancing around at all the faces of the small crowd that had formed around us.

“He-You-” I was struggling to find a way to blame them for this. She stands there impatiently waiting for me to speak. Her angered expressions triggers something in me. She thinks she can stand here and face off against me. What does she think? She can intimidate me or something?

“You’re the one who should’ve answered my call!” I bite back at her. “Then I wouldn’t have had to come to this stupid ass party in the first place!”

“Calum get over yourself!” Why can’t she just let me win. Why does she have to be so damn stubborn? My body burns with rage and the faces of all these staring people aren’t making things any better.

“What the hell are you all looking at?!” I yell at the nosy ass bystanders. I probably look like a mad man. Wild hair, sweating, with knuckles busted and bleeding. I look scary enough for the crowd to scurry away in all directions turning their attention to something else.

(Y/N), along with the crowd, turns her back on me.

“Don’t,” I grab her arm and spin her back around to face me. “Turn your back on me!”

“Fuck! Off!” She emphasizes each word never letting any of the anger simmer. She jerks her arm away from me and turns her back on me again. I want to say whatever I need to to keep her from walking away from me. And of all the things I could, and probably should say, the best I can do is:

“That guy isn’t right for you!” The words taste foreign on my lips. I’ve never been one to look of for what was “right” for someone. Especially not some girl. The second the words leave my mouth I want to shove them back down my throat.

Now she’ll think she got me.

Now she’ll think she’s won.

“Right for me? Christ Calum it’s a date, not a fucking proposal!” She’s pissed, but at least she stayed. (Y/N) marches up to get in my face. She’s not done with me yet. “And what the hell do you know about right for me?! We fuck on occasion but that doesn’t mean you KNOW ME!”

She turns around and storms off. This time I let her go.

As I watch her walk away from me, I get this feeling. A feeling in the pit of my stomach. A sinking feeling.

Don’t leave me.

The thought scares me. I’ve never wanted someone to stay before, nor did I ever want to want someone to stay. But as the possibility of her staying faded -- leaving me alone -- I realized how desperately I wanted it. How desperately I needed it. Needed her.

This wasn’t a game. It never was. But as she turned her back on me, I couldn’t help but feel like I had just lost.

[allegra-writes]

"Bad together"

Prologue: Benjamin Reilly

Peter Parker x Reader

General audiences

Warnings: none.

"And if I'm dead to you

Why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed"

My tears ricochet - Taylor Swift

"... It's a disaster! Look at her! It's like someone took a look at Black Cat, selected everything that made her sexy and then took it out!"

Black Cat. The name froze the young photographer on his tracks right outside his boss' office. He hadn't heard that name in a long time, the last sighting had been well over a year ago. He would know.  After all, it had been him, the very last person to have seen Felicia Hardy, alive or dead.

"What are you talking about? That looks hot af, not to mention badass!" Jade's persuasive voice reached his ears, making him smirk: It was no secret the chief editor had a soft spot for the young intern. And, on her part, the petite brunette was a firecracker. Poor old Jameson didn't stand a chance. "Come on, dad. Single handedly taking down three of the Kingpin's goons? That's impressive. It deserves to be one of the slides!" 

"Not if we don't get a higher quality picture. That blurry video is good enough for a thumbnail, but not for a slide" Slides were a big deal, they were the Dailybugle.net's equivalent of a front page, and if J. Jonah Jameson took something seriously, it was his web site. He prided himself in the quality of the "receipts" of his "tea", as if that validated the trashiness of the bullshit articles he posted, more fiction from hyper imaginative wannabe writers than serious work from real reporters. 

"Well, then let's get the pictures. Where is that star photographer of yours?" 

The photographer rolled his eyes, typical Jade. As if the queen of cool didn't know his name. As if she hadn't graced his bed a handful of times already. 

"That's a good question. Dolores, get me Reilly!"

"I'm here, Jonah" Ben finally stepped inside the office, throwing an envelope on Jameson's desk before throwing himself on a chair across it. He could feel Jade's eyes on him, almost like a physical caress, trailing from the long, slick back curls on the top of his head, to the muscles of his arms, threatening to rip open the seams at the sleeves of his white t-shirt, to his jean clad thighs. Still, he didn't turn to look at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction. 

"What do you have for me today, boy?"

Ben gesticulated vaguely with his head in the direction of Jade, and Jameson caught the hint. 

"Jade, out!" 

"But, dad, my story!" The petulant reply left her mouth before she could stop it, undoubtedly the product of years of habit. But she had the grace to look embarrassed and leave the office without another word, trying to save whatever professionalism she had left. 

Once she was gone, Jameson opened the envelope, flipping through the various pictures of a masked figure swinging around New York in a black and red suit. 

"Hmmm… these are good" the older man praised, staring at the images of a frustrated robbery at 5th avenue

Ben snifled nocomitically,

"There was a fire at 16th avenue happening at the same time" He offered, "we could use that. Spider-Man forgets his roots and leaves his old neighborhood to fend for itself, running off to save some pretty socialite…"

"Oh, that is excellent! See, this is why I like you, kid. You have initiative. Unlike these snowflakes out there. Oh, but Spider-Man is a hero. Hero, my ass"

"Well, when you watch your so called hero sit back and do nothing as your life gets destroyed" Ben shrugged, "the rose colored glasses tend to fall off…"

Jameson made a face at that,

"Yeah, about that… I'm sorry. For the role the Daily Bugle played on that…"

Ben shook his head, 

"You thought you were getting the truth out there. It's not your fault to have been played, along with half the world. Plus," he added, sounding genuinely enthusiastic, "you gave me this job. And now we can really tell the truth"

"Even when our idea of the truth is somehow different" The older man scoffed, flipping around a picture of Spider-Man sat on what appeared to be a hammock of his own webs, eating a hamburger and reading something that looked suspiciously like a comic book, "Still hung up on that high schooler theory of yours?"

"Well, if it talks like a brat and acts like a brat…" Ben took out another envelope, this time containing a few burger king wrappers and, effectively, a spider-man comic book. 

"Where did you even get these?"

"Harlem" was Ben's curt reply, and Jameson knew that was as exact a location as he was going to get. 

"So you still believe this is a copycat? Some kid playing dress up"

Ben simply shrugged again. 

"Well, there seems to be an epidemic of those lately" Jameson admitted, indicating Ben to come closer, passing a tablet to him, "Jade just handled me this, take a look"

Ben took a deep breath, steeling himself, already knowing what he was going to see in it. Yet, a part of him couldn't help but hope to be wrong. To hope the silver haired figure facing three much bigger, stronger looking ones as he pressed play, wasn't the same one he had spent weeks memorizing last summer. Wasn't the body he had found solace in, when everything fell apart, once again, for the hundredth time in his life. 

To hope it wasn't you. 

But when in his twenty-two or so years of existence, had things ever gone his way? 

Ben felt the screen crack under his fingertips.

"I've heard of her" he lied through his teeth, "didn't even think she was real, to be honest. Extremely elusive, and cunning." That much was true, "I don't understand how something as mundane as a security camera managed to catch her…" 

Unless you wanted to be caught, that was. 

"Well, I don't care if she's the fucking Loch Ness monster, I want an HD picture of her on my desk tomorrow to go with Jade's article. I already have a headline: New Catastrophe Jen wreaks havoc on Hell's Kitchen" Jameson's eyes lit up with glee as he weaved his hands up in the air, like writing on an invisible marquee. 

Ben snorted

"Don't you mean Calamity Jane?"

Jameson's face fell, the color rising to his cheeks, characteristic vein popping on his forehead. 

"I meant what I meant, boy! Now, what are you still doing here? You have 24 hours to get me that picture"

"I'm going to need 72," came Ben's unphased reply, "and I want twice what you pay me for the spidey pics"

Jameson's vein looked about ready to explode,

"48 hours. And deal."

Ben jumped from his seat and bolted out of the office before his boss could change his mind, not realizing until it was too late that he was on a collision course with a sweet looking short haired blonde girl. 

"Watch where you're going! Jeez!"

"Me? You're the one who crashed against me!" 

Ben rolled his eyes, but crouched next to the girl anyway, helping her gather the papers that had been sent flying on impact back together.

"Peter? Oh my god, is that you?"

Of course. What an idiot, he should had recognized that annoying, shrilly voice the second he heard it. It had caught him off guard, something he knew he couldn't afford. But how could he had ever imagine he could run into Betty fucking Brant, Yale cum laude, in the freaking dailybugle.net headquarters of all places?

"Sorry, sweetheart. You must confuse me with someone else…" He mumbled, lowering his head even more in a vain attempt to hide his face.

"Of course not!" She insisted, "You're Peter, Peter Parker, we went to Midtown together!"

"Miss, I have no idea what you're talking about…"

"Don't be silly, Peter!" She chuckled, completely deft to his tone or the way his whole demeanor had changed the second she had called him by the old name. "How have you been? Oh, just wait until I tell Ned, he's going to be so-"

CRACK.

At last, the tablet that had been in peril ever since Jameson had put it in Ben's hands, the one that contained his assignment, met its demise, both broken halves falling to the ground, along with all the papers he had picked up for Betty. It was several moments before he could get the shaking of his hands under control, before the tar black rage inside him subsided enough for him to be able to move without shifting. But it had.

"Peter Parker is dead." He deadpanned, dark brown eyes finally meeting Betty's stunned blue ones, "Tell Ned that, he'll probably be glad to hear it"

With that, he stood up and walked away, leaving a confused and agitated Betty behind. 

To be continued...

[whitehotharlots]

A true story about rehab from 2007

Names and places changed, dates slightly fuzzy, yada yada

This all starts with Chris.  Chris might be a good example of how things are objectively broken.

Two summers ago, Chris and his girlfriend moved from everyone's old hometown, Alton, to everyone's current home, Garden City.  I had known Chris briefly when I still lived in Alton, which was up until about 8 years ago.  In high school he was friends with my sister, a year behind her, I think, only he had some legal trouble and didn't graduate until two years after her.  The first arrest came during his junior year, when police found some marijuana in his car while he was in class.  "Apparently Alton is a utopia," he said years later.  "No robberies need solving, no cars need ticketing, no fences need mending, fuckit nobody's house must've been dirty because if there was anything else even remotely worthwhile that those cocksuckers could have been doing they wouldn't have taken a drug dog through the high school parking lot."  

The ironic part was that he was, honest-to-god, holding it for a friend.  Hadn't touched the stuff until then, hadn't even drank more than a beer or two.  Cops came in and pulled him out of class.  Cuffed him right there in class, in front of everybody.   From what I've been able to piece together that marked a very strong loss of innocence for young Chris.  No rules were worth following, after all, if The Bastards could punish you for nothing.  This was greatly exacerbated by the fact that, according to several of the best lawyers Alton had to offer, the search of Chris' car was unconstitutional as it was not actually parked in the school parking lot, or even on school grounds, at the time of the search.  The juvenile court judge would hear none of it though—all the police had done was break Chris' constitutional right to privacy.  He had committed the much greater crime of having an eighth ounce of marijuana in his glove compartment. 

His claim of having his rights violated incensed the judge, who sentenced our poor Chris to 72 hours in county jail and 12 weeks of rehab.  Were it not for his successful, stable family, he would have been sent to juvie. 

It was his first offense.  He was 16. 

Jail, he said, wasn't that bad.  He got to do it over a weekend. The guard was an old lady and even though she was kind of a bitch she let him bring in his homework.  She said she was surprised to see someone his age in here, with the adults, but whatever he had done it must have been pretty bad or else he wouldn't be here, would he?  They kept him away from the drunks at night and the only other people who came into the "pen" (his word, not mine) were guys who got bailed out within a couple of hours and were too pissed off about their own bad luck to give him any shit for his. 

What really fucked with him was rehab.  It didn’t matter that he'd never smoked a single joint (or even a cigarette) at this time:  he was an addict and by gum he had to admit to being an addict before the obese, shit-smelling overseer would sign the form saying that Chris had attended his sessions.  Every weekend for three months he was legally forced to lie.  Yes, he said, he was an addict.  Yes, even though it made no sense in any grammatical or even symbolic context, he was forced to say "my name is Chris and I'm a narcotic."  His personal habits were picked apart—why was his hair so long (it wasn't that long, really)? Why did he wear the same pants on Sunday that he wore on Saturday?  Who were these "Dead Milkmen" that his T-shirt spoke of?  Ohh… and surely this is a good-tempered, Christian punk band, right?  No?  Well you see right there that's a part of the problem.  Have your mother sign a note saying you've thrown out all of their CDs and any other enabling you might own.  No—you can't sell them, you must throw them out. 

"We had to go in a day and a half every weekend.  All day Saturday and then Sunday from noon until 4.  It took me five weeks, when I was starting to get comfortable, before I asked if I could come in Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday.  It worked out better for me that way, since the place where I worked wasn't open Sundays.  The fat guy just opened his mouth and would not close it.  'When would you go to church?'  he said. By then I knew enough to laugh and say 'oh yeah what was I thinking.'"

A few of the people had actual problems.  One guy got caught with meth, was beating the shit out of his wife and his two little girls, and seemed genuinely remorseful.  Another guy had to drink a sixer every morning or else he'd get the shakes so bad he wouldn't be able to drive to work.  But most of the people there were more or less normal and had either fucked up once or else been fucked over once—got into a bar fight while legally drunk, blew .02 over the legal limit at a roadblock, smoked pot once every few weeks and got narced on by a snitch, that kind of stuff. These people were split over how much they believed the bullshit they were being fed.  Those who believed, as the official literature did, that being hungover once in your lifetime or ever drinking more than 4 beers in a sitting two or more times in a month are both signs of hardcore alcoholism, they became repentant and preachy. 

One such lady was a thin, tan, well-dressed soccer mom who would snitch on the others when they didn't pay close enough attention to the instructional videos or else would appear in any way to not be taking things seriously enough.  If you were bad you got demerits, credit card-sized pieces of construction paper upon which frowny faces and intimidating biblical verses were printed. The overseer would also scribble something down in his notebook, which must have had some kind of official weight because it was on his person at all times.

Most people have an innate desire, however illogical it might often be, to please authority figures, and so Chris and the rest of the doubtful "addicts" thought the embarrassment of getting their reprimand literally handed to them was punishment enough for resting their eyes or letting a stray giggle break loose when the acting in an informational film was especially bad. Chris made only one such mistake.  During a lecture, the overseer kept making the point that it wasn't the drugs that people get addicted to—oh no, it's the high that keeps you coming back.  Chris smiled—remember at this point he still probably hadn't ever been high, not in his whole life—because it seemed like such a stupid, nonsensical thing to say, because even though he was only 16 he could appreciate moments like this, when the moronic essence of a big, scary process could concentrate itself into a single sentence. 

"It's not the drugs:  it's the high," the man said.  He was very clean shaven, dressed like a detective in a 70s cop show, his hair was combed so straight it was like wire, his glasses were round and cruel looking and he had this, this look on his face, this air about him like he thought he was a genius.  He nodded a little bit after the repetition of his idiotic point. Proud—he was actually proud of the things he was saying, proud of his position, proud of getting to fill the heads of desperate or else unfortunate people with nonsense.  And this made Chris smile—not laugh, just smile, and the soccer mom pulled on his ear really hard, so hard it made his eyes water, and then she raised her hand to snitch on him.  The proud overseer was still proud, looked like a king in an old movie, and with the most serious air Chris had ever seen, the fat man called him up before the entire room.  His eyes were still watery from the shock of having his ear nearly yanked up and so he looked down, towards the ground, so people wouldn't think he was crying.

"You ashamed of something," the fat overseer asked.  Chris didn't say anything. "Look up," said the overseer.  Chris kept looking down.  His chest moved in and out heavily and his fists were clenched, and he wasn't sure but he may have been crying normal tears by this point, but they were out of rage, not sadness.  Or—no…really what's the difference between those two, and it's impossible that the immense hopelessness of his situation and the utter retardation of his surroundings hadn't saddened somewhat.  If it were just rage making him cry then he would have also lashed out, punched the overseer or at least called him a name. No. No, the hopelessness must have stung enough to make him sad.  But his tears were out of rage primarily, and out of nothing even close to shame.

"Look up.  Now."

He did.  His jaw was clenched and his eyes were tightened into red little slits but he looked more defeated than mean, more helpless than threatening.

"I want you all to look at this face.  Soak it up.  Take it all in.  Done?  Give you another second.  Okay, now you're done.  This, people, is what failure looks like.  Some of you will see it again, right here.  This is what it looks like when you don't take yourself seriously, when you don't care enough about yourself to appreciate the chances that are being given to you."

He extended a demerit card towards the Chris’ face.  It was accepted without a whimper.

Weeks later, it came time for Chris and the gang to "graduate" from their classes.  By this point, Chris had gotten drunk several times (even puked, once) and tried to smoke pot a few times but it hadn't done anything to him.  Maybe he was just too drunk to feel it or he wasn't inhaling right, who knows.  Anyhow he figured a few bong hits wouldn't hurt before he had to show up to the ceremony, right, since he hadn't felt anything yet.  And, man, it was a blast because he was high as a fucking kite at the graduation, must have shoved 20 inches worth of the party sub into his mouth and downed at least 7 flutes of sparkling grape juice.  

His mother and stepfather—both stinking rich, by the way, disheartened by the lad's sudden fall from grace and more than a little pleased to see him making such a fast and exemplary recovery with the aid of such a caring and competent program—were dressed to the nines.  His mom was making time with the addicts.  This was her wont, the irresistible, flirty friendliness that drove her from the dregs of society (Chris' biological father) all the way to where she was today. While this was going on, Stepfather gracefully let loose to the riffraff around him all those little signs that showed that he was a kind man, but of great consequence.  He'd talk about sports while stretching him arm just so, just far enough to let his fancy watch fall into view.  He'd offer to lift heavy objects as an excuse to show off his bed-made tan, his gym-toned arms and back.  All of your jokes made him smile, but only just long enough for you to get a glimpse of his perfectly straight, snow white teeth. Both of them kept making their way over to Chris, who had stationed himself near the concessions table, to whisper into his ear how proud they were of him for pulling himself around and hint bluntly at him still receiving for his birthday a new car.  All the while, through this bleary, more-or-less with it haze, feeling content and calm with his surroundings and his high, Chris kept thinking about how much he had it made.  Everyone was a sucker, it seemed, but him.  Really, wow.  Everyone is stupid but me.

The soccer mom cut quickly around the room, stopping alongside each cluster of people and telling them that something important was about to happen,  it was time for everyone to walk into the little classroom where they normally met.  "You're not gonna want to miss this" she said, looking right into Chris with a mean little smile on her face that she knew would scare him.  Oh god, Chris though, she knew that he was high.  What was she in here for—ooh shit man, you've heard her talk about it 100 times.  Vicodin, right.  Vicodin and wine, passing out while one of her kids started a fire.  That's right.  Calm down. She wouldn't have known what someone looked like when he was high on pot.  Mom and Stepfather couldn't even tell and they saw Chris every day.  Calm down.

Chris shoved a few more bites of party sub into his mouth.  His mom laughed and said "getting better must make you work up an appetite, huh?"  Stepfather laughed.  Chris couldn't say anything, not even by the time they had walked all the way into the classroom and sat down on little folding chairs, because there was so much sandwich in his mouth.  Things began to quiet down within a couple of minutes. The overseer, smiling, poked his head out of his office and waved to the small crowd.  People clapped a little bit.  Chris noticed that "AWARDS RECEPTION" had been written on the blackboard with colored chalk, the letters alternating blue to red, blue to red.  A stack of certificates sat on the table up front.  The overseer waddled to the table and gestured towards his office and a large, black policeman walked from office to the entrance.  He looked all business.  There was another one who poked his head out from the office and then the overseer was still smiling, like the soccer mom he was wearing big, mean, fake smile and Chris sunk into his chair and moaned a little bit because he knew he was about to get arrested, again.  Arrested in front of his parents. 

Mom asked stepfather what the policemen were hear for the stepfather said—ahh the great rational bastard, it was all Chris could do to stop himself from hugging him—that since this was an official presentation, court mandated and all that, they must have some cops come and witness it.  That's all it was.  Nothing to get too upset about.  Still—gotta stay calm.  If the cops took no notice of Chris then they wouldn't take any notice of his being so incredibly fucking high. 

"Well," the overseer began.  Chris was hyperobservant and noncritical and he realized for the first time how long it took the overseer to get through sentences, because of all of his fat.  He'd pause every few words and take in a deep breath from his gut.  When he spoke it was in these bursts that were effeminately condescending but still bulky and powerful.  Like, if being told you were bad by a sharp-tongued gay man didn't hurt you then maybe being yelled at by an abusive gym coach would. Only he wasn't a gym coach and probably wasn't gay, either.  Talked about his wife and kids all the time.  This was an act.  He had measured out this persona for himself.  This was some kind of cruel professionalism.

Jesus, Chris thought to himself.  Pot fucks up the way you think about things.  How long had it been since they sat down?  How long since he'd been scared by the cops?  When was the guy going to start talking—ohh, wait he's already talking.  Might want to listen:

"And this is what this program is supposed to achieve: smiling faces.  Not just the smiling faces of those who are on roads to recovery—their own personal roads—but of their families and their friends.  The selfishness might end here.  The pain they have caused you, that they are sorry for, might end here.  But it's up to everyone here to make sure that all of these faces keep smiling."

He paused—too long.  Wanted people to clap for him.  They did.  Then they finished.  He continued.  His tone was different.  He had sounded like he was reading off a card.  Now he sounded more like he normally did, during classes.

"But it would be… hypocritical of me to let everyone who came here leave here, especially… if I knew that they would be making people start… to cry sometime soon.  Two of our friends will not be graduating today."

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"The first… Rup-ERT Donwiddle."

Ahh.  Okay.  That guy—white guy, lots of scars—never even showed up after the first day.  He wasn't even here.  Chris sunk his head into his lap, like he was stretching or about to puke, while the overseer mumbled about how Rubert had squandered his chance for recovery and blah blah blah. 

"Rufus failed… due to lack of initiative.  He didn't come.  But every time we have this course, it seems… there is someone who does come…  but who shows such disrespect that he might as well not have"

The overseer's tone changed, again, abruptly but not in a way that seemed unplanned.  He was talking somewhere in between the rehearsed tone he'd used earlier and the mumbling, jumbled tone he used during regular meetings.  The air shifted around Chris.  It felt like strategy, men moving into position in order to accomplish some kind of task or anticipate some kind of resistance.  The bigger cop stood by the door that led to the outside, blocking it.  Meanwhile the guys who had missed the most class and been handed the most demerits began to shift in their seats a little bit while their wives looked at them in white fear, the sterile blank walls felt like they were closing in—that's what  expression actually meant, when it actually feels like the room you are in just got smaller, more oppressive—and the big fat fuck who ran the place worse the biggest fatfuck smile Chris had ever seen and he if had dropped dead of a heart attack no one with a mind or soul would have gotten up to help him.  In spite of all of this, the synchronization was such that Chris couldn't work up any fear.  He was too busy admiring the evil of the whole process. 

Chris took to talking to the soccer mom, a few months later, as part of some revenge scheme that never quite materialized.  He had first planned on sleeping with the woman and ruining her marriage.  When that didn’t work out he thought about maybe figuring out the vulnerabilities of her home and passing that knowledge on to some unseemly sorts who, god willing, would have raped, robbed, and kill her.  He didn't do that, though, for the same reason he didn't speak up during the meeting when the police were blocking off the door and overseer was smiling the very worst smile the world had ever seen:  because the woman's evil was so immense that he could barely process it, could do little else, in fact, aside from sitting back and admiring it.  What he learned from her, after she had opened up to him and filled him on all the details, was that if you didn't pass the rehab course it counted as either a violation of your parole or else as a violation of your court sentence, so your failure was akin to skipping bail trying to escape from prison.   That's to say it was a Very Serious offense, one that could put you in prison for a long, long time.  And what the overseer hadn't told to anybody but the soccer mom, who was his favorite, was that his policy was that out of every class there had to be at least one addict who failed to pass in spite of showing up, one person who because of this or that reason simply did not deserve to consider his or her self cured of their addiction.  That's what the demerits were for. Whoever got the most failed the course.  You couldn't tell the whole class about this since then the people who got the most demerits early on would have stopped coming all together.  On top of that, if you got into a situation where a few weeks in one guy had racked up 20 or 30 demerits, then that more or less lightens the stakes for everyone else.  They'll start mouthing off or falling asleep since they know they'll never make up enough demerits to catch the worst guy, and then by the end of it you'd have been better off not doing any sort of demerit system at all.  No—no, the trick was to keep it a surprise.  That had two positives:  one, you catch the guy by surprise and make sure he gets what's coming to him.  Two, you put the fear of god into the others who are all sitting around watching.  That's when they got taught what happens if you don't respect the things you should.

All Chris knew at the time of meeting was that the balding factory worker, Hank was his name, was getting pulled up really unnecessarily roughly by the cop, had his arms thrown behind his back, and was getting cuffed and pushed out of the room while his teenage daughter was screaming in abject terror and his wife was burying her head in her hands and then the two women sat there while the smiling overseer berated Hank, talked about how he needed to learn how to accept help and how this was for the good of him and his family and You two ladies should stop crying, it's pointless, what you need right now is strength, loyalty, and conviction.  Hank had blown .02 over the legal limit at a road block.  He insisted he hadn't had a drop to drink in months, not since his first DUI, that he couldn't perform the heel-to-toe sobriety test successfully because of a fully documented injury he had sustained during Desert Storm and that the alcohol on his breath—which came up on only one of the 5 breathalyzers he was given—must have been from gum or mouthwash or cologne or something.  His parole was zero tolerance, though, and so he found himself at the meetings.  Every week he told the overseer that something he had said was bullshit.  He wouldn't say "My name is Hank and I'm a narcotic," he said, because that is just fucking stupid.  He wouldn't apologize for hurting anybody because he hadn't hurt anybody.  He wouldn't lie for the sake of lying because goddamn it that's not what this country is about.

And for that he went to prison.

Coming face-to-face with the reality of just how cruel and unfair the system is can, especially for a teenager, lead to a distrust so strong and all encompassing that it borders on despair.  This distrust can, sometimes, be healthy and inspire you to try and change things.  More often, it can grow into full-blown hatred, a maniacal desire to change things or to right wrongs that leads you to do something rash or destructive.  Still more often, it leads to a sense of defeatism, a feeling that you can't win since the system is so fucked so why the hell should you even try.  At least, that's what I gather from hearing Chris talk about it.  That's probably what I would have done if something like that would have happened to me.  I would have given up and failed.

And for the longest time Chris had given up and had failed. He drank and drugged and destroyed.  This made him a blast to hang out with.  This was when he still lived in Alton and I would see him once every few months, when I was at home visiting my family.  My sister moved to Garden City to attend the university at which I now teach.  Most of her friends soon followed suit.  He was left behind.  As I am self-absorbed to the point where I don't care about my friend's lives except for when their stories are particularly miserable or amusing, I don't know much about this time period except that it saw Chris turning things somewhat around.  Not by much.  He still drinks far too much.  But he's in school now—he's at the school where I teach, actually, although I've never had him for a student. 

[wing-ed-thing]

Group Project (Shino x Reader x Kisame x Temari)

Request: 

Word Count: 2,282

Tags/Warnings: Language, Alcohol Mention, Gender Neutral Reader @brokennerdalert​ @narahanabi​

Notes: I have never written for Temari before. I think I got her spot on tho. This was actually too fun to write. Enjoy, y’all.

The only time that worked for everyone was 10 o’clock. Which, by the way, sucked ass. At least, that was what Kisame said in the groupchat just ten minutes before you dragged yourself out of your dorm and into the rain. You trudged through the puddles, holding your jacket closed over your body to protect your backpack-encased laptop. Shino had a night lab. The earlier he finished his work the earlier he could leave. Temari had been insistent about that. She had some sort of circle and you remembered Kisame asking her why she couldn’t just skip for the week only to be met with a passive aggressive response. And Kisame himself had hockey practice. Even the sports houses were off campus, only impeding your scheduling efforts.

When you got to the longue, Temari had already set up all of her belongings. She sat herself in a cluster of four shallow armchairs and spread out a flurry of papers on the long coffee table. With the packed schedule that she threw into the chat, you wondered how she got there so quickly. Temari looked up at you with one long, slender brow raised.

“Oh good, at least you’re here.” Unsure, really, of what to make of her backhanded compliment, you sat down in the chair across from her and wordlessly unpacked your laptop.

You never liked general classes. At the end of the day, you worked on a few big, group projects, ultimately learned nothing, and your grade depended on the work ethic of others. You glanced over at Temari. She likely didn’t even have the same major as you. Granted, that was probably the point of the class, but nonetheless, it weighed on your already drooping eyes knowing that you’d have to pour so many late night hours into a project that would amount to nothing.

You pulled up your school account and sifted through your notifications.

“I signed us up for a research question. I thought that censorship in the classroom was an easy and relevant one. I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to get into the intricacies of drones at this time of day.” You couldn’t help but nod. Temari sure pounced on top of things quickly and for that, you were thankful to have received an easy prompt.

“Sounds great,” you mused and the heavy door from the outside to the longue slammed shut. You glanced over your shoulder to find Kisame, still in athletic clothes grinning as he approached.

“Well this is bullshit, isn’t it?” Those were the first words to come out of his mouth and you could practically hear Temari groan in exasperation. Kisame plopped down in the armchair beside you, offering you a wink as he did. “What kinda professor assigns a project on Tuesday only for it to be due Thursday? Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

You averted your eyes back to your screen, pretending to sort through your notifications. You hummed in response, too easily flustered and too tired to process. Temari’s fingers flexed over her own keyboard.

“It’s the beginning of the semester. It’s to test out organizational skills and teamwork,” she managed through half-gritted teeth. You looked between your two teammates, wondering what exactly happened between them that made them so hostile to each other. You made a mental note to not get in the way of whatever that was. Kisame scoffed, sitting back in the arm chair and reaching for his own computer.

“I don’t really care what it is and why it is. What I care about is that I’m wasting my Wednesday night…”

“Ah, yes, Wednesday night,” Temari repeated mockingly, “Because I know that I like getting plastered in the middle of the week.” Kisame leaned towards you on his left arm cushion.

“Soy Sauce over there is just sore that her brother picked a fight with one of my boys and lost. Sasori’s a short guy too, you should link with us sometime.” You heard Temari scoff.

“Yeah, like Kankuro would lose to any of the thugs you hang around—”

“Who are you calling a thug?” Temari met Kisame’s pointed glare. Even so, he sank farther into his seat, lifting one ankle to rest on his knee. “Though, I think it says something that you knew exactly what I was talking about—” He punctuated every word with a smug swing of his head before Shino walked in.

“Nice to see that things are lively in here.” He made his way across the lounge before plopping down next to Temari. A white piece of cloth hung out from his backpack, something that Temari didn’t miss as Shino prepared his materials.

“That’s a hazard.” She bit the inside of her lip.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s been grumpy since before you came here,” Kisame quickly explained, much to Temari’s disdain.

Looking across from you, you almost wished that you had just been paired up with Shino. You didn’t know him that well, but he seemed smart, capable and overall, quiet. Temari had drive, but her approach felt intense. Meanwhile, Kisame seemed like he couldn’t care less about the project. Or perhaps, it was more that he couldn’t care less about Temari.

“So the paper,” you began out of sheer nervousness. “And the presentation…” The three sets of eyes turned to you. You glanced at the clock. You had already wasted more than a half hour.

“Let’s be real here, a five page research paper is nothing,” Temari said, also crossing her legs. “It’s the presentation that we should worry about.” Kisame let out a breath.

“Well, here I was about to say the opposite.” He turned his neck to the side and you heard a few audible cracks. “What about we split it up if the paper is so easy for you?”

“I’m not just doing the paper by myself. Besides, I’d need to find sources and by the time I’ve found sources and written everything up, I’ll have done most of the work.” Temari wrinkled her nose at your partner next to you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what you were banking on.”

“Here.” Shino’s low voice broke through the room. With one exaggerated click on his keyboard he looked up at the three of you. “I just put a list of sources in the shared doc. There’s ten of them which should be more than enough. I pulled a few articles and a few academic papers which should meet the criteria from the rubric.”

Temari blinked down at her computer, furiously switching tabs. Her lips formed a round ‘o’ shape.

“Nice work, Shino,” you praised only to receive a shy nod. “I think if we take an anti-censorship stance, it’ll make out work easier given the time that we have to finish. Maybe Temari, you can start the paper and I can start the slides.”

“I can help you with that,” Kisame offered and you typed his email into the share box.

“I’ll help Temari with the paper,” Shino said with another nod.

“Start with the counterarguments. I’ll work from the top, you work from the bottom.” Temari gestured widely to Shino’s screen and you let out a relieved sigh. Maybe you’ll be able to get all of this done after all.

Time flew during the late hours of the night. You didn’t know what it was about the nighttime that made time feel quicker than usual. Soon enough, the clock struck one. Temari plucked ferociously at her laptop and it surprised you that Kisame hadn’t asked her what she was punishing her keyboard for. Shino, on the other hand, liked to stand. About an hour ago, he had stood up from his seat, and with one foot on the low level of the coffee table, kept at writing his part of the paper. Temari and Shino didn’t speak much. Rather, their side of the table mostly sounded of clicking.

Meanwhile, you and Kisame were having a great time. He made you laugh much to Temari’s annoyance, but knowing that you were getting your parts done, she didn’t comment. Despite his outward physique, Kisame had a sense of style when it came to design and organization. You flew through fonts and images quickly and by the time you had cleared the first few slides, even you were impressed by how professional it looked. The clock read two o’clock.

“This was your conclusion, right?” You turned your screen in your hands to face Temari. She squinted over and her eyes lit up.

“Actually, that’s a way better wording. Imma just steal that…” She clicked some more. “That’s some great work.”

“It was actually all Kisame.” And to your surprise, he didn’t gloat. Instead, he remained eerily focused. Temari glanced at him before glancing away.

“Like I said, great work…” she muttered.

“We’re almost done with the slides,” you announced, “Do you guys need help with the paper?” Shino shook his head. You found that he preferred non-verbal answers.

“We’re wrapping up over here, too,” Temari answered.

“Good, because I’m fuckin’ starving.”

And with the one mention of food, you all looked up at each other.

***

There was only one place open this late at night and it was one block away from campus. Fast Food, of course, but no one in your group complained. The dining halls were closed and most of you didn’t keep your rolling pantries stocked with anything worth eating at two in the morning, so you packed up your things.

It felt odd walking down the road with this group of people. You chattered amongst yourselves about anything other than your assignment.

“Me? I’m a biology major. I want to study beetles but I have to get my undergrad before I can do anything really specific.” By far, Shino had to be the most interesting of you all. You made your way off of campus, the restaurant in your sight. And as the walk continued, so did your conversation.

“I’ve wanted to try the new place that they opened up by admissions but they’re always closed when I try to go.” Temari pouted and you crossed the street together. You wondered if spending four straight hours having to communicate with any three people could make talking to them this easy.

“Marine biology?” You stared up at Kisame. “I don’t think I would have guessed.” He let out a hearty laugh that sent a few birds flying.

“Oh yeah, they have us go out of labs for the whole day. And when I say the whole day, I mean the whole day. I’ve always loved the ocean, but I think I’d have to transfer if I had to wake up at seven and come back at eight for more than one day a week.” Kisame reached for the handle, only for it not to budge in his grip. He tried again.

“Are they closed?” you asked, getting slightly agitated at the prospect.

“No.” Shino cupped his hands around his eyes as he stared through the window. “Wet floor signs are out. This must be the time that they clean the dining room.” Shino hardly had to finish his sentence before Kisame was already on his way to the drive thru.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Temari yelled after him as she jogged to catch up. “You can’t just walk through the drive thru.”

“Sure you can.” Kisame stood directly in front of the speaker with his hands in his pockets. “There are no cars around and even if there were, they’d have to take our order to get us out of the way… Hello?” The speaker crackled and Kisame shot a pointed look at the rest of you before moting for you to come closer to order.

“What can I get you?” the apathetic worker droned.

“Can I get a number nine?” Kisame started.

“Oh me too,” you whispered to him, not entirely sure why you spoke with such a hushed tone. He crossed his arms with a smirk.

“Make that two number nines? One large—” He stepped back to let Temari come up to the speaker.

“May I please get a number six with extra sauce, please? And, uh, a number seven too, please.” Like Kisame before her, Temari stepped to allow Shino to talk.

“Two number forty-fives, one with cheese and a large soda.”

With nowhere else to sit, you claimed a spot in the empty parking lot. Temari ended up paying. You put up a fight, but she insisted. You were secretly convinced that she was loaded anyway.

“You two got a lot of food.” Kisame handed you your fillet burger. Temari hummed, taking one of her backs and folded it behind her.

“One’s for my boyfriend,” she said, and before Kisame could get out a snarky comment about how Temari could ever land a boyfriend, Shino answered,

“I just usually eat all at once. Can’t usually grab dinner while doing night labs.” You all grimaced to yourselves. You knew the feeling of skipping meals because of your schedules.

You looked out at the city. Your school sat on a hill just outside of the twinkling lights. You found comfort in the blinking that came from below and your surroundings made the atmosphere feel completely still.

“You know, if we have a choice, we should just stick together for the rest of the semester.” Shino’s monotone voice cut through the air. You turned to the rest of them. Temari shrugged.

“It’s less of a gamble since we know each other, I suppose. I know that most of you won’t mess up our assignments…” You and Kisame nodded along, both stuffing your faces with french fries.

The decision was unanimous.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: 

Shino’s lab coat was in with his regular supplies which is technically a hazard when working in chem and bio labs since lab coats should be sealed. 

Not all fast-food places well take your order without a car, but if you block the line they’ll give in (that’s what I did). Don’t blame me if you get arrested for doing that though. 

"I'll have two number 9s, a number 9 large, a number 6 with extra dip, a number 7, two number 45s, one with cheese, and a large soda."– Melvin "Big Smoke" Harris

[avengersassemble-fics]

Stark Legacy

part 02/?? "the same fucked up past"

master list

previous part // next part

word count 5.3k

Okay so… Maybe you went a little too hard last night. This headache that you’ve been fighting the last thirty minutes was killer, and the sunlight that peeked past your curtains and into your eyes was not helping. You were so out of it, you swore you could smell bacon. Which could never be the case, it was just you here - and that’s what made your eyes open. You were suddenly hit with the memories of the previous day, and you sat yourself up to stare at the door.

No yeah that was totally bacon you were smelling. You rubbed your hands over your face and flung the blankets off your body, not even wanting to know how you got in here last night. You stripped out of your day old clothing and jumped into some jeans and a random shirt before preparing yourself for what you were about to walk out to.

You pulled your door open to find your living room tidy and put together, and in the kitchen your eyes landed on the backs of Sam and Bucky. They were hovering over your stove and talking amongst themselves, but as you came closer you could make it out more as arguing. You were more focused on the full pot of coffee begging to be drunk (by you specifically).

“Just let me make them sunny side up!” Sam told Bucky as you came up behind them.

“I’m telling you, you gotta have a little bit of crunchiness around the edges,” Bucky argued back. “That’s the best part.”

“I hate to say it but he isn’t wrong,” you said as you opened a cabinet to grab a mug. The two men glanced at you just as you began pouring yourself a hefty cup.

“See?” Bucky said to Sam who all but huffed.

“Thanks for having my back,” Sam mumbled your way and you hummed as you passed him to grab a seat on a stool.

“What is all this anyway?” You asked as Bucky plated a couple eggs and a piece of toast. He turned around and placed it in front of you and held your gaze for a moment before turning back around to repeat the process. You raised a brow at the two men, then grabbed the fork and cut into the eggs. “Thought you two would be gone by now.”

You missed the shared glance between them, you were too busy shoving some food into your mouth. But as you chewed and looked back up at them they faced you together, and you knew that look on their faces, and started shaking your head. “No-”

“Come on, (Y/N),” Sam tried to reason again. “We’ve got at least eight super soldiers out there. We need all the help we can get.”

“Can’t you track down Strange or someone who, ya know, wants to help?” You asked and took a sip from your cup. “Besides, I have very important things here.”

“Is that right?” Sam asked and you gave him a small mhm before going back to your plate. Just as you were about to dig into the other egg the plate was pulled away from you, and you raised your gaze up to meet Bucky’s stare.

“You’re bullshitting,” Bucky stated. You narrowed your gaze at him.

“You’re annoying,” you challenged. Bucky huffed and leaned forward towards you, and you shifted back in your seat.

“You owe me a favor,” Bucky told you. You shook your head at him and sighed.

“You’re really bringing that up?”

“Yeah I’m bringing that up,” Bucky countered. You held his gaze for a few more moments, while Sam watched the exchange from behind. You finally blinked at Bucky and rolled your eyes.

“Fine, but give me the plate back,” you asked and after a few seconds Bucky slid the plate back to you and you grabbed it and went back to cutting into your eggs. You were almost completely sure you were going to end up regretting this decision, and for still owing Bucky this favor.

It’s been awhile since you’ve had to pack for a mission, you really didn’t even know where to start. Sam had filled you in on everything they knew so far. Eight confirmed, though there could be more for all they knew. They had followed up on a lead before coming your way but it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. And he also filled you in one this new Captain America.

“So.. You’re officially out of leads?” You asked and Sam nodded while you shoved some clothes into a bag. “What about Walker? Think they have any information?”

“Even if they did, we are not teaming up with those two,” Bucky interjected as he came into your room. You could tell he was antsy, ready to get a move on. You ignored him though and zipped your bag closed. “Besides, Walker doesn’t have any leads.”

You could see Sam’s face scrunch up a bit as he stood to level with Bucky, and you raised a brow at the two. Was this going to be an everyday thing?

“I know where you’re going with this, and the answer is no,” Sam told him and Bucky shifted and leaned closer and lowered his voice.

“He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia?” Bucky asked and you fought back the urge to twitch at the mention.

“Okay Tweedledee and Tweedledumb,” you cut them off and they looked your way. “Anyone wanna fill me in on who you’re talking about because I know you’re not talking about the man who used my parent’s death as a revenge tactic-“

Bucky’s face fell into a straight frown and Sam looked at him like he was ashamed as well. You sighed and shook your head. “No, of course you would suggest that.”

“I’m just playing devil’s advocate here-“ Bucky started and you scoffed.

“Doing more than just playing,” you mumbled and Bucky huffed.

“But he’s the only lead we have right now.” Bucky finished. The two looked at you as if waiting for permission and you closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh. You were already regretting your decision.

“Fine. Let’s go see Zemo.”

You didn’t like this one bit. Bucky had gone to see Zemo a few hours ago, and here he was trying to talk Sam into breaking him out. Thankfully, Sam was more sound minded then Barnes was. They argued back and forth (this really was going to be a daily occurrence) while you sat on a bench in whatever creepy dark warehouse you were in. You snacked on a packet of fruit snacks you hid in your pocket from home, and watched the two men bicker amongst themselves.

At this point you were just along for the ride.

“Have you lost your mind?” Sam asked and you held back a laugh. You wanted to answer that on a dime and cleared your throat quietly. But the glare Bucky sent your way let you know he heard you. Good.

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing,” Bucky tried to reason and you watched him shift his balance and look your way. “At least I’m trying to help.”

“By breaking out one of the most dangerous men in the world? Who single handedly broke up the Avengers? Yeah, so helpful,” you said and shoved your trash back into your pocket before standing to join them.

“We have eight super soldiers that are on the loose, in case you two forgot,” Bucky said and you crossed your arms.

“We haven’t forgotten, but Zemo is gonna mess with our minds, especially yours,” Sam pointed out to him. “No offense.”

“Offense taken,” Bucky said in a low tone. “Super soldiers go against everything he believes in. He’s crazy, but he has a code.”

“Well at least you two have one thing in common,” you said below your breath, but the look Bucky gave you let you know he heard you, again. “Let’s not forget he blew up the UN and killed King T’Chaka in the process, and framed you for it. Oh yeah, and used my parents death as a revenge tactic, and showed the footage to my brother and I. Didn’t think you forgot that by now, or what about the Wakandans? They definitely haven’t forgotten.”

“Look, we get why this matters to you,” Sam cut in, almost taking a step in front of you to block you off from Bucky’s view. “But it’s pushing you off the deep end.”

“We don’t know how they’re getting the serum, or how many of them there even are, Sam.” Bucky tried to reason, and you scoffed.

“Aww, can’t handle a couple tough guys, Terminator?” You asked and Bucky huffed.

“Will you two stop with the nicknames already? I don’t understand most of them anyway,” Bucky said and you shrugged.

“That’s what’s fun about it,” you suggested and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Just hear me out, okay?” He asked. You stood there and listened to an elaborate plot of breaking Zemo out of his containment, and you couldn’t help but wonder what you were dragged into.

“I don’t like how casual you’re being about this,” Sam said and you nodded in agreement.

“It’s unnatural,” you agreed and Sam nodded with you and Bucky’s face fell.

“Is this how it’s going to be? You two teaming up on me?” Bucky asked and you shrugged.

“Probably,” Sam and you said at once. Before anyone could get another word out the doors to the warehouse were pushed open, and everyone turned to see a man’s back, who was closing the doors. When he turned around and took off his cap, your stomach folded. You looked at Bucky once more with a glare.

What an idiot.

“Whoa, woah, whoa,” Sam began to say and take a couple steps back.

“No, come on, listen-“ Bucky tried to reason. Sam looked back at Zemo and pointed at him.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked and Zemo just shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t let this happen,” Bucky said and you shook your head and looked at Zemo.

“For good reason,” you said.

“What did you do, Bucky,” Sam asked and Bucky motioned back at Zemo.

“We need him,” Bucky stated and Sam came back to your side.

“You’re going back to prison!” Sam said to Zemo, who lifted his hands in peace.

“If I may-“ Zemo started to say.

“NO,” the three of you said in warning, and Zemo dropped his hands and listened to the bickering.

“When Steve refused to sign the Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and stuck your neck out for me. All I’m asking is for you to do it again,” Bucky said to Sam before looking your way. “And you owe me, so you have no say in the matter.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Tinman,” you threw back at him. Bucky rolled his eyes and looked back at Sam, waiting for his blessing. Sam looked annoyed but finally sighed and looked at Zemo.

“If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission,” Sam ordered and Zemo nodded.

“Fair,” Zemo agreed. You shared a glance with Bucky and shook your head at him.

“Okay Zemo. Where do we start?” You asked.

You couldn’t believe you were onboard a private jet, headed to an unknown destination, with the three biggest idiots you’ve ever met (well okay.. maybe second to a certain super soldier you did not want to talk about). You settled into your seat across from Zemo (please could someone end your misery) and looked out the window to the passing clouds, before a fuzzy feeling settled into your throat. You slid the blind close over the window just as Oeznik was offering you a drink, but before you could accept, Bucky took the drink from him.

“She won’t be drinking,” He told the older man, and you gaped at him.

“Says who?” You asked and Bucky handed the drink to Sam and sat opposite of him.

“Says me, as part of the favor you owed me,” Bucky replied, and started to search his pockets from something.

“My presence is the only favor you’re getting out of me,” you argued back at him, but he ignored you. You huffed and crossed your arms and watched Zemo pull out a small notebook, and your heart dropped.

That was Steve’s. And it seemed right as you noticed, the idiot beside you did too.

“Who is Nakajima?” Zemo asked. Bucky was up in a split second, snatching the book back and getting in the criminal’s face.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you,” Bucky threatened before moving back to sit in his seat across the aisle. Sam watched the exchange before meeting your gaze, and you shrugged. You had no answers for that.

“I’m sorry,” Zemo offered. “I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Bucky warned and you looked across at Zemo. He offered you a smile and you shook your head.

“I don’t like you,” you told the Sokovian man. Zemo nodded and took a sip of his drink.

“Understandable. I’m sorry that you got caught in the crossfire,” Zemo offered and you blinked at him. “But it was necessary to share the truth.”

“By showing us a video of our parents being killed?” You asked a little too loudly. You had sat forward in your seat, and narrowed your eyes. “You’re the HYDRA expert. Tell me then, how do you think that affected me, hm? You think when I close my eyes at night that I don’t see that replaying in my head? You triggered that memory. You knew what you were doing.”

You stood from your seat abruptly and Zemo (probably everyone, but who cares) watched as you went to the back of the plane, and you locked yourself in the bathroom. You didn’t come out for most of the trip until there was a knock, and Sam’s voice spoke through the door.

“We’re landing soon, and we need you out here,” Sam said. You took a deep steady breath and unlocked the door and pushed it open, and it folded open to reveal Sam. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you told him honestly. Though he looked like he didn’t want to give the topic up, he nodded and motioned back to the front of the small plane.

When Sam and you regrouped, you watched Zemo picking through some outfits (where did he even get these?) before handing Sam one. It was an odd red and yellow suit, and Sam took it but raised a brow.

“What the hell is this?” Sam asked. Bucky was just zipping up a leather jacket that had his vibration arm exposed and you avoided his looks.

“That is your cover,” Zemo offered without, and seemingly picked another fit for himself. “We cannot simply walk in as ourselves.”

“All of us,” Bucky chimed in, and you knew he was directing that to you. You rolled your eyes and finally looked his way and crossed your arms.

“Just tell me the plan,” you said and Zemo looked to Oeznik, who disappeared around the small corner for something. Sam disappeared back to the bathroom, probably to change.

“Sam will become Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger. One of Selby’s usual patrons, while I remain as myself. James here, will enter as the Winter Soldier, and I’ll be offering his services to get us in with Selby.”

“Are you sure this is a good plan?” You turned and asked Bucky. Bucky was fastening a glove over his flesh hand and looked up for a moment at the wall. “Isn’t this what you’ve been working away from?”

“We need the information,” Bucky said coldly. You blinked at him as he avoided your gaze, and you looked back to Zemo.

“So what am I doing?” You asked. Oeznik came back around the corner with a black dress and you tilted your head.

“You are accompanying me for the evening,” Zemo said and you eyed the dress.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said as you eyed the silky dress. Bucky seemed to be paying just as much attention to the pick. For some reason, this changed his tune on letting you tag along.

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Bucky said and you gaped at him.

“Oh I can’t go but you can, and then go all Winter Soldier? That’s not how this works, Barnes,” you challenged and he faced you fully and got in your face.

“I’m saying that you need to stay put,” Bucky said. His low voice was almost a growl, and if you hadn’t been used to being outsized by a super soldier in the past, maybe this would’ve intimidated you. You looked him over and held his gaze as you leaned past him and snatched the dress from Zemo’s grip.

“Try and stop me,” you challenged. You turned around towards the bathroom, and just as Sam exited, you entered and relooked the door.

That was so… Weird. Right? You looked yourself over in the mirror and then looked at the dress in your hand. It was smooth to the touch, probably the same material of the dress you wore to that party Ultron crashed. You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory of that night, besides a murdery robot, you had met and got along with everyone well that night. Sam, Wanda, Thor… Natasha… Tony… Steve.

You cringed and shook your head. Pushing down the memories of that night, of those people really, you stripped from your comfortable clothes and into the satin black dress. When you could finally adjust it right, you smoothed the thin straps over your shoulders and looked yourself over in the mirror. The black form fitted dress stopped high on your thighs, and there was a cut out on the side that offered a little wiggle room for walking. You fixed your hair, touched up on whatever makeup you had on, and with a final glance you had to admit.. Zemo had taste, at least. You threw open the door and stepped out, only to hear the three of them fighting. Again.

“You didn’t tell me that part of the plan,” you could overhear Bucky saying.

“Buck, does it really matter?” Sam asked and Zemo nodded, in a fur collar lined coat. All together everyone looked… Okay, but separated it was a tad off. You blamed Bucky of course, if he hadn’t broken Zemo out this wouldn’t be happening.

“As far as I know, she can handle herself,” Zemo said and he straightened his clothing.

“He’s right,” Sam agreed and you finally decided to butt into the conversation.

“She can handle herself,” you chimed in, and they turned to look at you. If you were checked out, you didn’t notice. You had snatched the heels that were laying out for you, and with one hand you gripped onto Sam’s shoulder, and with the other you began to put the shoes on. “Besides, someone needs to keep you all in check.”

“We’d be fine without you,” Bucky tried to reason, just as you set both strapped feet back on the ground and met his gaze.

“First you want my help, then you don’t.. Starting to think I should just head back to the Netherlands,” you commented and Sam shook his head.

“No, ignore him. We need you,” Sam reassured you and you nodded in acceptance. At least someone wanted you around.

A light came on to indicate a descent from the sky, and everyone took their original seats. You ignored Barnes’ looks, and stayed mostly silent as the plane landed, and even as everyone walked side by side one another. To your right was Bucky, Zemo, then Sam at the end. You tilted your head to the side and felt a small crackle, and sighed at the released tension. Somehow, Bucky took it as an invitation to talk.

“Why are you so hard headed?” He asked quietly, as if to shield the conversation from the other two who were discussing Sam’s cover. “You couldn’t have just stayed on the plane?”

“I’m sorry, weren’t you the one who came to me for help?” You shot back at him and he rolled his eyes at you. You shook your head and looked back straight ahead. “But no, as soon as it became clear I’m Zemo’s arm candy, you changed your mind. Kinda misogynistic if you ask me.”

“I’m not trying to be misogynistic,” Bucky replied and sighed deeply. “I just thought you… Didn’t want to be reminded of doing this type of mission.”

You understood pretty quickly what he was implying, and honestly it made you even more mad. “You really want to talk to me about this, when you’re planning on engaging as the Winter Soldier?”

And with that… Bucky grumbled to himself and moved on from the subject. In the distance motorcycle lights began to form, as well as the headlights of a car, and everyone came to a stop in the middle of a road.

“No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it, there’s no margin for error,” Zemo instructed and you nodded a bit to yourself. This should be simple enough.

The ride in was ominous, the car silent as an unknown man drove the group to its destination. You were sandwiched in between Sam and Bucky, and you did your best not to meet the gaze of the man in the rearview mirror. This is fine, everything was going to be fine. The car came to a stop in the city, and everyone began to get out, and Zemo offered you his hand. Without hesitation, you took his guidance and he helped you out, and you walked by his side as the group made their way deeper into Madripoor.

God, it smelled bad.

There were guns and crimes galore, and you kept your eyes focused on Zemo’s head in front of you, Sam and Bucky trailing behind you. Zemo entered an alleyway that soon was filled with a bunch of people, and suddenly your hands were sweaty. Zemo came up along a bar and the man behind it turned around and looked everyone over.

“Hello gentleman,” he greeted and looked at Sam pointedly as you grzed Zemo’s side. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed,” Zemo explained and rested his arms on the bartop. “We have business to do with Selby.”

The bartender looked at Sam again with an odd look on his face before giving him a short nod. “The usual?”

You watched as the bartender turned around and moved to a jar, and pulled out a snake. You had to fight back a grin, sliding one of your hands up Zemo’s arm, while the other grazed over your lips to hide the smile that so badly wanted to form. You met Bucky’s glance for only a second, whose pointed stare just screamed Winter Soldier mode. Either way, he didn’t look amused.

Zemo had a simple drink, while Sam was handed one with something from inside the snake floating at the bottom of the shot. The two men clicked their glasses together, and eventually Sam joined Zemo in downing his shot. The Bartender still looked unsatisfied, but moved on from the group. You were about to remove yourself from Zemo’s side when an unknown man came up behind you, sandwiched between you and Bucky, and looked at Zemo pointeedly.

“I got word from up high. You ain’t welcome here,” he informed your “partner”. You glanced at Bucky, then to Zemo who seemed completely unfazed.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me, or…” Zemo motioned to Bucky by your side. You unlatched your hand from Zemo’s arm and held Bucky’s gaze. Deep down, you didn’t want him to do this.

“Or bring Selby for a chat,” Zemo offered. The man looked at everyone and disappeared, and you inwardly sighed.

“What’s a power broker?” You asked quietly and Zemo shook his head.

“Every kingdom needs its king, let’s just pray we stay under his radar,” Zemo said and you nodded a bit and looked over at Sam.

“Enjoy the drink, Smiling Tiger?” You asked and wiggled a brow at him. Sam was about to respond, he probably had a good comeback, when Zemo looked at Bucky with a more serious look.

“Зимний солдат,” (Winter Soldier) Zemo said in perfect Russian. “Атака.”

Just as a hand fell on Zemo’s shoulder beside you, Bucky was quick to move around you and grab the man’s arm, and step into action. He pulled the man from the group and with a glance at everyone, he engaged. You watched as he practically laid the man out in full force, before another charged at him. With another hit and kick, that one went flying into a third attacker. You couldn’t help but take a small step forward with the rest of the crowd, as Bucky just… Demolished anything that came at him. Another man was flung forward and Bucky reacted perfectly on time, and before you knew it he had a man sprawled out on the bar top right in front of you.

The audible sound of guns readying made everyone freeze as Zemo carried on his Russian to Bucky, keeping the act up. But your eyes didn’t leave the back of Bucky’s head. He dropped the man from the bar and slowly turned around and finally met your look. You wanted to say something, you’re not a total asshole, but you couldn’t. Not even when you felt someone’s hand move some hair from off your shoulder and expose your skin from behind. You sucked a deep breath in, but the man’s touch wasn’t on your long. Bucky’s vibranium hand was quick to snatch the perp’s hand from your neckline, and you could hear the crack and Bucky bent (probably broke) his wrist and sent him flying back.

You missed where the bartender said Selby would see everyone, you were too entranced on Bucky’s gaze. But Zemo was quick to redirect your attention, and off everyone went to meet his contact. You… You just couldn’t believe how easily Bucky fell back into that, and didn’t want to think about the fact you fell back easily into your past too.

So things did not go as planned, as many of the missions you go on unfold. Lucky for everyone, an unexpected old friend came to the rescue. Everyone else seemed okay with it, but what were the odds Sharon Carter was in Madripoor? Either way, you were glad to get out of these clothes, and Sharon was nice enough to lend not only a shower, but something normal to wear. Really it was a sweater like material shirt and some dressy pants to go with it, but it beat the dress and heels.

You had zoned out of the conversation occurring around you as everyone settled in. You let out a content sigh, maybe you could actually get some rest tonight-

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right?” You could hear Sharon say and your eyes shot open, and you stared at the floor. “The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.”

“He knows,” Zemo chimed in with his wisdom. “And not so deep down.”

“By the way, how is the new Cap?” Sharon asked and you looked up a little higher to watch the exchange.

“Don’t get me started,” Buck replied, and you watched as Sharon came around the couch to sit beside him.

“Please,” she scoffed. “You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit. Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr America! Cap’s best friend.”

You couldn't help the fist that formed by your side. What the fuck was her deal? You couldn’t just sit here and listen to this. You stood from your place and everyone looked your way for the first time since this conversation started. You looked over all of them and shook your head, and without a word went to the door that you had come in from, pulled it open, and shut it behind you.

You had no destination in mind besides just getting the hell out of the building for some air. The boots you had on clanked through the halls, and eventually you made it back to the front of the building, where the two guards glanced your way for a moment before going back to whatever they were doing. You walked past them and turned down the sidewalk, just far enough away so you could lean against the wall and cross your arms.

You just wanted to be alone for a bit. But that didn’t last very long before you could see Bucky coming your way.

He didn’t say anything at first as he joined your side. You both stared ahead at the lit up skyline of Madripoor. It still smelled a bit, not as strong as Low Town, but enough to where you noticed it. Bucky slid his hands into his pockets and you could see him glance your way.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked.

“Not really,” you replied. After a few moments you glanced his way, and sighed. He was putting in an effort… Maybe you could too. “I just… Don’t get it. How can she believe that after everything that’s happened? People died to get the universe back to how it was. But that’s bullshit to her?

“Natasha’s sacrifice was a joke? Vision was just a machine? Tony’s life didn’t matter?” You asked and Bucky watched as you worked your way through your thoughts. You blinked a bit, maybe to fight back some tears, but he watched you shake your head and lean back against the wall. “I get that her life was turned upside down. But she wasn’t the only one.”

“Maybe not,” Bucky replied and turned to you fully. “But people deal with things differently. Sam and I owe it to her to make it right, and her tune may change.”

You nodded a bit at his words and let out a small hum. Bucky looked your stance over and gripped his hand closed in his pocket. “Are you okay..? About tonight-”

“Tonight was fine,” you reassured him. “Besides, we should be asking you that.”

“It was nothing,” Bucky tried to say and you shook your head.

“I saw that look in your eyes, Bucky,” you said, averting your gaze back to the skyline. “You can say it didn’t mean anything, but I know it did. We have the same fucked up past. Like you said, I may be the only one who understands what’s going on in your head.”

Bucky couldn’t help but curse himself for implanting that thought in your head, and when he didn’t move to talk about how tonight really made him feel, when you both did return to the rest of the group, the thought lingered in his mind. He so easily went into the Winter Soldier mode, it was too natural. And he couldn’t help but worry about that, but also how easy it may be for you if something triggers that repressed memory of the Phantom program. Sooner or later he knew the Wakandans would come, and if he could get back in their good grace’s… Could they help you too?

- - - - - - - - - -

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[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 73

Title: Best Laid Plans

Warnings: some profanity, talk of domestic abuse, child death

Tagging:  @tragiclyhip, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @ocfairygodmother, @lokitrasho, @miss-smutty,  @raith-way​, @ocappreciation​

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/85024549

He’s up at quarter to six; throwing on a muscle shirt and a pair of work out pants and slipping into the well worn sneakers he keeps by the back door. A run on the beach as the sun peeks over the horizon is exactly what he needs; his bad knees cushioned by sand beneath him, a steady, cool breeze blowing in off the ocean, and the sky painted in vivid orange and gold and stunning pink streaks. The two dogs run on either side of him; their tags clinking against their collars, each carrying a tennis ball in their mouths in hopes of play after the hard work is done. The excursion to his body is calming to both brain and soul; pushing all thoughts of Mark and his devious intentions onto the back burner and concentrating on nothing but his breathing and his heart rate and the sights and sounds around him. And once at the finish line, he bends at the waist and places his hands on his thighs; eyes closed as the sweat trickles off his forehead and runs down his nose and his temples and gathers at the nape of his neck. Chest heaving and burning; a familiar discomfort that serves to remind him of just how far he’s come. Fighting against the odds to complete the long and painful recovery after the incident with Nathan and coming out almost as good as he was before; strong, agile, his health better than it's ever been. He’d somehow survived and he’d long ago swore he'd never take another minute for granted; always grateful to wake up and find himself on top of the ground instead of below it.

After a half an hour of entertaining the dogs, he returns home; splashing cold water on his face and neck and running wet hands through his sweaty hair and then heading for the kitchen. Busying himself with the morning routine; brewing his coffee and the three shots of espresso he always adds to it. The smoothies are next; a wide selection of fresh fruit and various supplements and vitamins recommended by both his doctor and Esme’s fetal and maternal medicine specialist. And the moment he hears her footsteps above -small and light, but just heavy enough to NOT be a child- he begins preparing her breakfast; kettle boiling for her tea while he throws a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and gathers up a container of plain yogurt and a handful of different fruits to chop. He glances over his shoulder and smiles in greeting when she joins him; messy hair held away from her face and out of her eyes with a sparkly purple headband stolen from one of their daughters and her tiny frame clad in a pair of baggy Hello Kitty night shorts and one of his t-shirts. And before he can open his mouth to offer up a ‘good morning’, she’s wrapping her around his waist from behind; yawning loudly and rubbing her cheek against the fabric of his shirt before laying her head against his back.

“Babe…” he warns. “ I probably stink. Gonna make you pass out. Give the baby in utero PTSD.”

“Bullshit. You smell good. You smell like a man. MY man. “

“All the kids still asleep?”

Esme nods. “You already went for a run?”

“Just a small one. Took the dogs with me. Tired them out.”

“I thought you said Sunday was your ‘set in stone rest day’?

“I did. But that’s just for lifting heavy.” Turning around to face her, he takes her face in his hands, turning her head up towards him as he leans down to kiss her. “I’m still going to run every day.”

“You know how I feel about this; when it comes to you pushing yourself too hard.”

“I know you worry. I know you don’t blow out my knee or fuck my femur up somehow. I’m taking it easy; I’m not going full tilt and I’m not ignoring my body when it starts screaming at me. I’m doing a lot better; when it comes to recognizing the signs and paying attention to them.”

“I just want you to be careful. I don’t want you hurting yourself. And you've been spending a lot of time in the gym. You went from one three hour a work out a day to TWO. That’s a lot, babe. Even for a bad ass like you. I know you feel this need to be bigger and stronger and…”

“I’m past that. Maybe just looking to put on another ten. That’s it. That’s probably as big as I’ll ever get again. Sorry. No return to the thicc, lumberjack stage that you enjoyed so much.”

“I DID enjoy it. You had the big muscles and the extra weight in your tummy and your hair was short and your beard was really thick. It was a good look on you. A VERY good look.”

“But…”

“But I love you EVERY way. And how your body is right now? That’s how you looked when we met. When I fell in love with you. So it tends to be my favourite. It’s very sentimental to me. And you know what would make it even MORE sentimental?”

“If you want me to get the haircut, I’ll get the haircut.”

“You would do that for little old me? You’d do that to keep your pregnant and extremely hormonal wife happy?”

“I would do anything for you. Pregnant or not.”

“Best husband ever,” she declares, and stands on her tip toes as he kisses her once more; hands tightly grasping the sides of his t-shirt.

She’d long ago gotten used to that ‘after work out’ stench; the potent tang of sweat , the lingering remains of laundry detergent, and the cool, brisk, freshness of antiperspirant. It’s HIS smell. One that reminds her of safety and protection and love. Of HOME. When he’s away, it’s those combined, familiar scents that offer comfort; bringing solace to her aching heart and effectively relieving at least some of the fear and worry nagging at her. Sleeping with his pillow every night and often wearing one of his t-shirts or bundling herself up in one of his hoodies; soothed by the smell of him clinging to the sheets and clothes and subduing her rattled nerves just enough for her to fall asleep.

It never gets easier; kissing him goodbye at the front door or the airport and then wondering -as he walks away- if she’ll ever see him again. The job isn’t a life you ever really get used to; lying to yourself when you tell others that you’re completely fine with your husband being thousands of miles away, putting his life on the line in the hopes of saving another. But she copes; knowing he can more than handle himself when it comes to the physical aspect and that he’ll do whatever it takes to get back to her and the kids. But the ache is real when he’s not under the same roof; both her and their brood feeling his absence and both saddened and angered about it. And the worry and fear never disappear; feeling as if she’s holding her breath the entire time, never releasing it until the moment he walks back through the front door. Safe and sound.

Pressing his lips to her forehead, he turns towards the counter once more; snagging a knife from the butcher’s block and preparing the only breakfast her stomach has been able to handle. Dry toast accompanied by chunks of fresh fruit, a smoothie containing all the vitamins and supplements recommended by her doctor, and a tea that helps with calming both her tummy and her nerves. While the nausea lingers throughout the entire day, the mornings have been especially horrendous; unable to keep even the smallest sips of water down and struggling with both weakness and dizziness. All of the pregnancies have been the same in that respect; losing weight before actually managing to put it on, suffering from headaches and queasiness and even a handful of scares that sent them running to the hospital in fear there was something terribly wrong. But the sixth pregnancy is turning out to be an even bigger struggle; half a dozen different medications fighting to keep her blood pressure down, help her sleep, and keep her eating and drinking properly.

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Tyler remarks, as she moves to the stove to tend to the boiling kettle. Offering a mug with the tea bag already in it; his hand briefly resting on the small of her back as he places a kiss on her temple. “You were sleeping pretty good when I went on my run.”

Sighing, she sets the mug down on the stovetop and fills it with water. “I probably still would be if your spawn didn’t wake me up out of nowhere and send me on a mad dash to the bathroom. I’ve come to expect SOME sickness, but this?”

“This one’s giving you an extra hard time, huh? What did the doctor say? Something about making too much human growth hormone? I don’t know. She completely lost me when she broke out the science speak.”

“A variant of it. And it’s too much of ALL the hormones. Kind of weird; that the last pregnancy would be the worst. You’d think it would be the easiest; your body totally used to everything, able to push that sucker out with only two tries. I swear to Christ, Tyler. If this is another Millie labour…”

“You’ll cut my dick off?”

“That’s a little extreme. You need your dick. It’s still very useful. I’ll just chop your balls off. So you can’t make any more swimmers.”

“How about we not do that and just let the surgeon handle things?”

“I want a goddamn guarantee from him that this isn’t going to happen again; your penis remarkably healing itself and letting those swimmers of yours have free reign.”

“I’m going to jump in here for a second. You realize your body fucked up too, yeah? That it took BOTH of us to make this baby? Your tubes were tied. Right after you had Kota and Brookie. You’re not supposed to be able to get pregnant in the first place.”

She stares at him over the rim of her mug. “Even if I hadn’t gotten them tied, you weren’t supposed to be able to produce any sperm. Ever again. For the rest of your natural born life. But low and behold…”

“You…” He points the knife at her. “...need to accept some responsibility in all of this.”

She huffs, taking a sip of tea and then setting it on the stove; hands on her hips in a show of defiance. “I will do no such thing.”

“Come on, this can’t all be pinned entirely on me. Both our bodies had to screw up for this to happen. So be a big girl…” snagging her by the front of her t-shirt, he gently pulls her into him. “...and take some of the blame.”

She stares up at him; a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth and those enormous, dark eyes sparkling mischievously. “No. You can’t make me.”

“Listen pocket wife, I’m a foot and three inches taller than you and almost a hundred pounds heavier. I can make you.”

“I’d like to see you try. You don’t intimidate me. Your muscles and your resting asshole face and all those tattoos and scars. They don’t scare me a bit.”

“You realize I have ways of convincing you, don’t you? Ways that don’t involve intimidation. “

“Yeah?” Both hands clutch the front of her shirt as her body leans into his. “What kind of ways are we talking about then?”

He swipes the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip. “Sexual ones.”

“You realize that sounds more like pleasure than punishment, right?”

“You remember that thing we did back in New York City. In the bathtub. The thing you claim to hate but always seem to love? The one thing that I always can count on to make you squirt? Do you know what thing I’m talking about?”

“I know EXACTLY what you’re talking about.”

“Well next time around, when you least expect it? I’m going to do that twice as much. Only this time there won’t be a happy ending. For you, anyway.”

Her eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t.”

“Yes. Yes I would.”

“You’re evil.”

“Most evil husband out there.”

“You may be the most evil, but you’re also the sexiest out there. So at least you have THAT going for you,” she chides, giving a tiny yelp when he brings a palm down on the cheek of her ass in a ringing slap. Giggling when his hand reverts to lightly pinching and squeezing before drawing her into him; body pressed against his and her hands tightening their grip on his shirt as he leans down to kiss her. Long and slow and deep; the brief contact between their tongues finding her curling her toes and sighing into his mouth.

When he pulls away he’s smiling down at her; blue eyes sparkling with a mixture of unbridled lust and pure adoration. Hand moving from her ass to the side of her cheek; knuckles grazing over the soft skin before gentle fingertips clear wayward strands of hair away from her face and tuck them behind her ear. “You’re beautiful.”

“You need glasses.”

“I already knew that. But needing them doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful.”

The smile she gives is shaky; tears welling in her eyes as a lump of emotion wedges firmly in her throat. It’s overwhelming at times; seeing his love, adoration, and affection laid so bare. This big, strong man with his myriad of tattoos and scars and a lifetime of trauma, guilt, and regret. So brave and fearless yet so vulnerable at the same time; possessing a heart that he’s even bigger than his body and a beauty to his soul that not even his father, Asif, Mahajan, or Nathan had been able to rob him of. Working as a team, she’d spent years helping chip away at the seemingly impenetrable walls that he’d built around his heart; patiently urging him outside of his comfort zone and encouraging that humanity lingering inside of him to make itself fully known. In the end, the reward was far beyond anything she could ever imagined; a man that loves her so wholly and completely. And profoundly. So much so it often takes her breath away; and all consuming and often leaving her feeling unworthy of such devotion.

He frowns when he notices the tears in her eyes and the tell tale wobble of her lower lip and chin. “What’s the matter? Why are you gonna cry? What…?”

Her voice comes out as a childlike whimper; reminding him of Addie when she’s been scolded or has had a particularly rough run in with Millie and the teasing was just too much to take. “I really need a hug right now.”

Setting the knife on the counter, he gathers her in his arms. One arm circling her waist as a hand settles on the back of her skull; palm lightly pressing her head into his chest. And when she stands on the top of his feet and perches on her tiptoes in order to return the embrace, he crouches down until she’s able to successfully wrap both arms around his neck. His beautiful, tiny wife; his best friend, truest confident, and his rock during his darkest and most dire of times. Always sticking by his side no matter how difficult he sometimes makes things; forever patient and attentive during the long and painful recovery after Nathan, always forgiving him for his sins and mistakes even when he can’t forgive himself. Suddenly seeming so weak and vulnerable herself; her entire body trembling and her tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he promises, and presses a kiss to her ear. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s ALL gonna be okay.”

*****

He hates seeing her like this; face lined with worry and exhaustion, shoulders drooped as if carrying the weight of the world upon them, eyes dark and downcast instead of sparkling and playful. He’d long ago gotten used to her morning persona; overly cheerful and extremely talkative compared to his grumpiness and need for complete and utter silence until he’s at least finished his coffee. So it’s unsettling when she deviates from the norm; missing the familiarity and the routine of her chattiness and her teasing and witty banter. Instead completely silent as she sits across from him at the table on the back deck; her feet resting in his lap as she merely nibbles at the dry toast and moves the pieces of various fruits around on her plate.

He gestures at her plate with his fork. “You need to eat. Start putting weight on instead of it dropping off.”

“It’s not like I’m NOT trying.” She spears a chunk of watermelon and brings it to her lips, taking a tiny bite before setting it back down again. “I WANT to eat. My body is BEGGING me to eat. But it’s kind of hard when you just feel...I don’t know...off.”

“Something we need to worry about? Something to do with the baby?”

“No. I feel fine that way. Other than being crazy nauseous and already having insane heartburn. How much hair is this kid going to have? Because the only other time I suffered this bad…”

“We ended up with Addie. Hairiest damn kid I have EVER seen. Hands down.”

She manages a smile, then nibbles at a slice of dry toast. “Remember how it was practically head to toe? Because she was a preemie?”

“She looked like a little monkey. A cute one, mind you. But a monkey.”

“Don’t ever say that to her. It’ll be her new obsession; monkey this, monkey that. None of our other babies had much hair. If any at all. Well, Declan…”

“I will never forget seeing that head of hair. Bright red.”

“You looked so confused,” Esme muses, as she once more pulls her plate towards her and attempts to eat. “When he was crowning. It was like he had two heads or something.”

Tyler winks at her from across the table. “I was trying to figure out when you had time to get busy with me AND the cable guy.”

“Baby, he is all yours. Without a doubt. The cable man didn’t stand a chance getting close to me. So unless you can get pregnant just by breathing the same air as someone…”

“I hope you’d have better standards than that guy. If you’re going to do something like that, can you at least have the respect to go a notch higher than I am in quality?”

“That’s not even remotely possible. You’re already on the very top rung of quality. In fact, you’re in another league all your own. All by yourself. If you have the best, why settle for less?”

A grin plays on his mouth. “You are so good for my ego.”

“Besides, we both know I’m the last person that would EVER do something like that. I am way too hopelessly and madly and wildly in love with you. Always have been. Always will be. So unless you’re planning on going somewhere, you’re stuck with me. For the long haul.”

“I’m perfectly happy where I am. And with who I’m with. You know that, yeah? That I’d never do something like that. No matter who’s trying to get with me? I would never...EVER..cheat on you.”

“This is stemming from my insecurities, isn't it? Those women yesterday.”

“I just wanted to get it out there. I don’t care about any of them. There might as well not even be any other women on earth. The only one that matters? The only one I want? Is you. And that’s not going to change.”

“And you say I’m good for YOUR ego?”

“I mean, maybe it doesn’t need to be said. Maybe you already realize all that. Or maybe you’re going to tell me that you don’t need the words; you can see everything in my eyes anyway. I just think sometimes I should say it. Who knows, maybe I need to tell you more than you need to hear it.”

Well…” She reaches for his hand that rests on the tabletop, running her fingertips along his forearm and over his palm before lacing their fingers together. “...a girl DOES like to hear how much she’s adored and worshipped.”

“I thought you like it better when I SHOW you how much.”

“That too. But sometimes it’s a nice little bonus; hearing the words.”

Pushing his chair away, he stands and leans across the table; free hand reaching out to cradle her cheek in its palm. “I worship you. I adore you. I love you. And I can’t live without you.”

While tears sparkle in her eyes, her smile is genuine; filling out her cheeks and crinkling the bridge of her nose. “And you say you’re not romantic.”

He bends down to kiss her; the soft press and languid movements of closed mouth upon closed mouth. “I do have my moments,” he says with a grin, running the tip of a finger down the bridge of her nose, playfully tapping the end of it before returning to his seat.

They sit in companionable silence. Enjoying the crisp, refreshing breeze that rolls in off the ocean and the familiar yet calming sounds of the outdoors. The waves rolling up onto the shore, the rustling of the trees as they sway in the wind and the different melodies that come from Esme’s collection of wind chimes attached to the awnings of the pool house. It’s home. The familiar yet never boring sights and sounds of the where they’re the most comfortable; where they grow and nurture their family and take advantage of the many spoils given to them by such a beautiful and expansive piece of land.

Returning to Australia had been the best move they’d ever made. The start of strengthening not only their marriage, but every aspect of the life and relationship they share; making sure to nurture and grow each separate component that makes them, THEM. Often having to pull back from the chaos and stress of everyday existence to remind themselves that they’re not just spouses and people raising kids together; they’re each other’s confidants, best friends and devoted and faithful lovers. Two unique individuals that share a bond unlike many could ever fully understand; broken and in tatters when they’d first met yet somehow managing to comfort and heal one another. What had happened in Dhaka will forever remain the foundation their life together has been built open. A rather odd concoction of many things; shared grief and regret, adrenaline and fear, profound lust accompanied by the pangs of the heart that remind you that you’re still human. And a lot of blood, sweat and tears. All combined with the unforgettable stenches of raw sewage, blood and sweat, and spilled gasoline.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He breaks the silence first, pushing away his empty plate and reaching for his smoothie. Satisfied with her attempt to get food into her belly; her own meal almost completely finished save for a couple bites of toast and a small handful of grapes. Her feet once more resting in his lap; both hands curled around the plastic tumbler that contains the thickened ‘super shake’ he’d made for her earlier.

“By ‘it’ I’m assuming you mean Mark?”

Tyler nods.

“What more is there to say? He’s in town. Not like there’s anything we can really do about it. Not until he at least makes a move.”

“I’ve got guys trying to track him down. Looking into every hotel, every bed and breakfast, every short term rental within a fifty mile radius. Unless he’s gone totally off the grid and he’s holed up in a cave somewhere, my guys will find him.”

“Is that really what you were doing last night? Taking care of all of that stuff? Getting people going on all this?”

“It was some of what I was doing. Not all of it. When you came in, I was doing exactly what I told you I was. I’d already gotten it all set up; guys already starting to dig. Told ‘em not to leave any stone unturned; Mark’s crafty and he’s slippery and he’s going to do everything he can to avoid me catching up to him. He wants the element of surprise; get to you when my guard is down. I’m hoping to get to him before that happens.”

“When do you ever let your guard down?”

“Even I slip up, Esme. You know that better than anyone.”

“Tyler Rake doesn’t make mistakes when it’s family on his line. He rarely makes them when it’s complete strangers he’s looking out for. You’re not the type to fall asleep at the wheel, babe. Especially when it comes to the kids. And ESPECIALLY when it comes to me.”

“I can’t be around you twenty-four seven. There’s going to be times I can’t be with you. As much as I’d love to be glued to your hip…”

“Do you trust the guys you picked? You don’t exactly hand that out lightly, Tyler. And you’ve always been very careful about who you bring into the business. You’ve always had the strictest hiring practices I’ve ever seen. You don’t just bring anyone aboard. And if you’re willing to put them in charge of keeping an eye on him…”

“I trust them when it comes to the job. They’re some of the best I’ve ever seen, actually.”

“Other than yourself, you mean.

“They’re good, Me. They’re quick on their feet and they’re strong as fuck and they will not back down. From anyone or anything.”

“But…”

“But I don’t fully trust anyone when it comes to you. That’s not something I can give; just hand over your life like that. No matter how well I know someone or how good of a merc they are. But I don’t have a choice, do I? It’s not possible to be around every second of every day. I wish it was. I wish I was the only one taking care of you. But…”

“If your gut tells you that these guys can handle it, then that’s what you go with. I trust you, Tyler. Whether it’s protecting me on your own or making the decision to hand it off to someone else. Your instincts are so strong. Some of the strongest I have ever seen. And if they’re telling you that this is right...that these men are right…”

“They’re telling me that I don’t have any other choice. That I NEED to trust these guys. And I want to Esme; I want to be able to sit here and tell you that I trust them one hundred percent. But other than you? There’s no one I trust that way.”

“If you say this is the right decision and that these are the right people, then I’ll go with that. Because I trust YOU. I always have. I always will. So if this is the move you need to make and you’re confident in it…”

“As confident as I’m gonna be.”

“Then there’s nothing more to talk about. If you trust them, then so do I. Simple as that.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words, then offers a small smile and once more takes her hand; lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“I know you don’t have any answers. And to be honest, I don’t expect any. But I just don’t understand. Why is he doing this? Why now? If it’s a revenge thing, why wait this long? I haven’t been married to him for fifteen years. Why wait that long?”

“I don’t know, Me. I don’t even know if that’s his angle.”

“Everything says it is. What else could he possibly want? Do you think he’s a threat? To me?”

“Yeah,” Tyler reluctantly admits. “I do. He wouldn’t come out of the woodwork after all this time and play all those little mind games in New York and then make it a point to show up here IF he wasn’t planning something. I just don't know exactly what it is. Or when he’s gonna make his move. And hopefully the guys I have trying to find him will track him down. Sooner the better.”

“What will they do with him? If they do find him?”

“Found a little out of the way place in the northern territory. Somewhere they can keep him; until I can get there. Off the beaten track, no through roads, heavy bush. Not a single soul around. Figure that’s for the best, yeah? Keep him somewhere no one can hear screaming and pleading for his life.”

“You’re going to handle that yourself?”

“Hopefully. Told my guys that they can rough him up, but I want him very much alive. So he can feel every goddamn thing I do to him. And I know you’re probably thinking this is a throwback to McMann; taking him hostage and torturing his ass. But…”

“You do what you need to do, Tyler. You do whatever you feel he deserves. I’m not going to think any less of you. And Lord knows that I’ve had quite a few fantasies about how brutal I would love you to be if you ever got your hands on him. I’m not going to ask how and I don’t expect you to tell me. You just do what you need to do. To make him suffer and make him pay for what…” Her voice cracks; tears of both rage and insurmountable pain welling in her eyes. “...just make him pay. Promise me you’ll make him pay.”

Sliding his chair away from the table, he’s at her side in only three long strides; dropping to a knee in front of her and taking her trembling hands in his.

“Promise me, Tyler. Promise me you’ll make him pay.”

“I’ll make him pay, Esme. I promise.”

“Everything he did to him. Everything he said. It’s just all coming back. All those horrible, mean, degrading things he called me. All the times he forced me to do disgusting, horrible things to him. All the nasty, gross shit that HE did to ME.”

He feels the rage that immediately begins to take hold; his jaw setting and tightening and the blue of his eyes becoming much darker. Bile settling in the back of his throat; acrid and burning. He hates hearing about it; the horrific things that she’d been subjected to at the hands of someone who was supposed to love her, protect her, and give her a good life. The person he loves more than anything else in the world and would gladly lay his life down for. Not just his wife, but his best friend and the mother of his children and the centre of his universe.

“You don’t have to talk about this,” he says, and tightly squeezes her hands. “Nothing good will come from going there. Nothing…”

“He is an evil, sick, demented person,” she continues, words struggling to make it through the sobs. “He used to make me clean the baseboards and the grout with my toothbrush and then he’d force me to use it afterwards. If he was in a mood and didn’t like what I made for dinner, he’d throw it on the floor and he’d make me get on my hands and knees and force me to eat it. Like I was a dog! And when I tried to fight back, the beatings just got worse and worse and worse and…”

“That’s enough,” he gently orders, and releases his hold on her hands in favour of drawing her into his embrace. An arm wrapped around her waist and a palm resting on the back of her head; pressing a kiss to her temple and her cheek before drawing her face down to his shoulder. “No more. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t go back to that place.”

One of her hands clutch desperately at the back of his shirt, the other clamping down on the nape of his neck. “How do I ever get over it? How do I ever fully leave all that behind? I thought I was doing okay with it. I thought I was finally putting it all past me. I thought…”

“Sometimes there’s things we don’t really get over. Not completely, anyway. And that was fucking hell; the shit that he put you through. I’m sorry, Me. I am so fucking sorry.”

“Is it weird that sometimes I think about ‘what if’? That I’ll wonder what it would have been like if we’d met some other way? Some other time. Some other place. Before all the bad shit ever happened. Imagine? If we’d met before all of that; if we’d found each other and healed one another sooner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with thinking about that stuff. But babe….listen to me….” He pulls away and cradles her face in his hands; thumbs swiping at the tears that continue to fall “...you can’t live the rest of your life thinking about that. Because if none of the bad ever happened? We wouldn’t have met. Because all the loss and the bullshit put us on the path that led us to each other. And yeah; it was fucking painful and I wanted to put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger so many times. But in the end, all that crap? All the hard stuff? It brought you into my life. You know that. I KNOW you know that.”

“What if it was all for nothing? You spent YEARS trying to make up for all his mistakes. You didn’t care how messy I was or how messy my life had been before you. You just picked up the pieces and you put me back together. And you never complained ONCE; You just did it.”

“I did it because I love you. Because I couldn’t exactly go and find the guy and kill him with my bare fucking hands. And believe me, I’ve thought about it many times. About how I’d do it. And how I’d make it as slow and painful as possible.”

“All the time and the work you put into fixing me. What if Mark puts me over the edge and I become a big mess again? What if all of a sudden I’m in a million fucking pieces again? What then? It will all be for nothing?”

“No. It won’t. And you know why? Because even if you fall apart a thousand times, each time I’m going to pick those pieces up and I’m going to find a way to make them up. I love you, Esme. More than I ever loved anyone. More than I even thought was possible. And if it DOES happen...you do fall apart...I’m just going to be here to pick you...and all those pieces….back up.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve YOU.”

“Baby, you deserve the fucking world. And I’d give it to you if I could. Come here…” Pressing a kiss to her brow, he tangles his fingers in her hair and draws her head down onto his shoulder; other hand moving in slow, comforting circles in the middle of her back. “...everything’s alright. There’s nothing to be scared of. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s not that I’m scared. Not of him getting a hold of me. I know that you’d never let him get that close. You’d do anything to protect me. I’ve never...ever...doubted that. I just hate what it’s doing to me; him being back in my life. I feel like I’m drowning in all this stuff from the past and that there’s no way you’ll be able to pull me out of it. Like it’s going to suck me under and you won’t stand a chance of getting me back.”

“That’s not going to happen. I won’t LET that happen.”

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,,” she admits. “Worrying all the time about the baby and trying so hard to take care of the other kids and now this crap with Mark and him being so close to us.”

“I know it’s really overwhelming right now, Me. I know it’s a lot of things being heaped on your plate. And believe me, I am taking as much of it off as I can. And this stress with Mark is just making everything else seem even worse. But I got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I just need you to trust me.”

“I do. I DO trust you.”

“You got lots of help with the kids. You got me, you got Stel, Riley’s always willing to drop everything and lend a hand. And you know how much grandpa Koen loves to spend time with them. He’s always ready, willing, and able to step up.”

Managing a laugh, she pulls back and swipes at her tears with the back of her hands. “He was in fine form last night, huh?”

“He was definitely on top of his ‘shit talk Tyler’ game.”

“Everything he says, he says with love. He’s a wreck, you know. When he showed up in Dhaka. He was all laughs and jokes at first and I’m sure that was just to calm his nerves, because when he got to your room? He just lost it. Totally broke down. I’ve never seen him get that emotional since.”

“I guess he’s got a little bit of a soft spot for me. Considering I was an enormous shit head when I first met him and he threatened to beat the attitude out of me. And believe me; he tried a couple times. Tough love, yeah? He’s the guy that turned me into the solider I became. And tried to stop me from destroying myself after everything fell apart. Spent years trying to talk some sense into me. Never stuck.”

“Guess you just weren’t ready for that yet. You just had a bit more of your journey to take. I’m sorry it was as crappy as it was. That you had to go through what you did.”

“Lost my kid and my sobriety. And probably most of my sanity.”

“It’s not fair. That you had to go through so much. Starting right from you were a little boy. Not a single step of your path has been easy.”

“No. I guess it hasn’t. But every one of those steps was worth it. ‘Cause look where I am now. I’m a long way from The Kimberley.”

“Leaps and bounds,” she smiles. “Even in the last five years.”

“It was worth it. It was ALL worth it. And this? Whatever the hell THIS is? With Mark? That’s just another bump in the road we gotta get past. I just need you to trust me. That’s it.”

“I’ve always trusted you, Tyler. Always.”

“Everything’s going to be alright,” he promises, and once more gathers her into a tight, protective embrace. “I didn’t lose you in New York and I’m sure as hell not gonna lose you now. Especially not to him.”

The scrape of the screen door opening upon its track captures his attention, and he glances up in time to see his oldest son step onto the porch. Hair mussed from sleep and sticking up in several different directions; barefoot and clad in only a pair of blue, red, and white plaid pyjama bottoms. And it’s the first time that he’s noticed just how grown up that his namesake is becoming; only ten, but tall and athletically built with well chiselled ab muscles and noticeable definition in his arms and shoulders. All long limbs and torso and tanned skin; brilliant, expressive blue eyes and his once shoulder length dirty blond hair now chopped short. Despite his issues with impulse control, his diagnosis with ADHD, and his volatile temper, he always seems much older and wiser than his actual age; independent and detail and routine oriented and always willing to step up and lend a hand with his younger siblings or with chores and repairs around the house. And it’s bitter sweet; his first son after losing Austin growing up in what seems like the blink of an eye. Proud of him for the person...the man...that he’s becoming but missing the little boy he was; the one who’d be attached to his hip and who explored the world with wide eyed, breathless abandon and wanted nothing more than to exactly like his old man.

“Dad?” Worry tarnishes the ten year old’s voice; eyes darkening and narrowing as he observes the sight in front of him. “What’s going on? What…?”

“Nothing, mate. Your mum and I were just having a chat. She just got a little...worked up.”

“About what?” He finally approaches, a hand on the back of his mother’s chair as he leans in to check on her. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Just some adult stuff. Your mum’s just a little emotional today.”

“Mummy?” TJ lays a palm on her shoulder, gently squeezing and then pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Are you okay? What happened? What..?”

“I’m alright,” Esme assures him, and turns her face into his, pecking his lips. “Daddy and I were just talking and…”

“You don’t look alright. You’re crying. Why are you crying?” A mixture of panic, worry, and the beginnings of anger creep into his voice. And he fixes his father with a steely glare. “What’s wrong with mum? Why is she crying? What were you talking about that would upset her?”

“Just a couple serious things,” Tyler informs him. “ADULT things. Things you don’t need to worry about.”

TJ’s jaw clenches. “What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything. Why would you…?”

“Daddy didn’t do a thing,” Esme assures him. “Like he said we were having a chat and things turned a little serious and I got emotional. That’s it. He didn’t do anything or say anything wrong. I got upset and I started to cry and he was just trying to comfort me. That’s it.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause if something else happened…”

Turning sideways in her chair, she clasps her son’s face in her hand. “Tyler James. Listen to what I’m saying. Daddy did nothing wrong. I started crying and he got worried and he was trying to calm me down. He didn’t say or do anything. He was trying to help. He wanted to cheer me up. That’s all.”

“Mummy…”

“That’s all,” she insists. “I appreciate you worrying about me, but we’re telling the truth. I just got emotional about some things we were talking about. That’s all. Daddy would never...EVER...do anything to make me cry. Unless it’s happy tears.”

TJ sighs heavily. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. But thank you.,” she presses a kiss to his lips and smooths a hand over his unruly hair. “I’m okay, baby man. There is nothing for you to worry about, okay? And good morning, by the way. Thought for sure you’d sleep in a lot longer; all the running around you did after the littlest yesterday.”

“Dad said we could go surfing. Before everyone else got up. I set my alarm.”

“Well the water looks perfect today. Or as you would say, the waves looking ‘bitchin’.”

Excitement replaces worry and simmering anger. “Dad checked the surf report last night. They said it was going to be perfect conditions. And that it could just be us. I like when it’s just us. It’s a lot more fun. And we sit on our boards and talk. A lot.”

“Then I’ll let you guys get to it. I’m sure you have a lot of boy stuff to talk about.”

Tyler pushes himself to his feet as his wife slips out of her chair; hand on the small of her back as she stands. “You good?”

“I’m good,” she assures him, standing on her tiptoes to return his kiss. “I’ll take the dirty stuff in and I’ll grab some towels and throw them out here for you guys. And maybe I’ll even crash on the couch; until the rest of the hoodlums wake up.”

“If you need anything, you know where to find us.”

“I’ll be fine, Tae. Everything will be fine.”

Nodding in agreement, he offers a small smile and presses his lips to her temple. Watching as she gathers the dirty dishes, mugs, and cutlery and carries them into the house. TJ gallantly holding the door open for her; a broad, beaming smile spreading across his face as she plants a kiss on his cheek.

“IS mum okay?” The ten year old turns to him once Esme is out of ear shot.

“She’s fine, mate. She’s just going through some stuff.”

“Bad stuff or…?”

“Just some stuff. Nothing you need to worry about. You’re mum’s alright. And you know I’d never hurt her, yeah? That I would never...ever...say or do anything to break her heart. Tell me you know that.”

“I do. But you used to. Do stuff like that. I know I was just little then, but…”

“I’m not that guy anymore, TJ. I haven’t been him in a long time. I would never hurt your mother. I love her in ways you can’t even begin to understand. And I would do anything to make her happy and to keep her safe.”

“Is there a reason to? Keep her safe?”

“No,” Tyler lies. “There’s not.”

*****

From the moment he first held Austin in his arms, Tyler had pictured these moments; introducing his son to surfing and forming a tremendous bond over their shared love of the water. Teaching him how to not only handle the waves, but to give himself over to the release and the escape that comes not with conquering them, but being submissive to them; gliding smoothly and confidently yet remembering that nature always has the upper hand and should never be questioned or underestimated. When he had first found out he was going to be a father, he’d often daydream about sharing his passions with his offspring; surfing, fishing, hiking, and camping trips. But military life had been all consuming, as had been his commitment to it; putting fighting the battles of others higher on his list of priorities than his wife and soon to be born child. And having the baby home hadn’t changed a damn thing; signing up for extra tours whenever he got the chance, putting his be all and end all into the army and having nothing left to give his family.

For his fifth birthday, he’d gifted Austin with two things; a custom made surfboard and the promise that he’d change his ways and become the dad that his kiddo needed and deserved. Neither of things ever came to fruition; Austin diagnosed with cancer just three weeks later and the board going unused and Tyler’s promise dying the moment the news had been dropped into their laps. And when Austin had died, so had all of the dreams and the hopes that Tyler had had as father; the loss tremendous and robbing him of both his heart and soul. The grief composed of many things. Not just the loss of his boy, but of all of those expectations, and fantasized moments, and the memories that would have been made during them.

He never dreamed that he’d ever be a father again; his marriage and his military career both disintegrating and finding him throwing himself headlong into mercenary life and a battle with booze and drug addiction. Wracked with so much guilt, regret, and profound grief that he truly believed he deserved his self imposed exile from the rest of humanity. He was a monster and not deserving of any form of a normal life; taking the most dire and dangerous of jobs in hopes one would kill him, drinking and popping pills in hopes of not just numbing the physical pain, but the mental anguish as well.

In the blink of an eye and in the midst of his deepest and darkest moments of suicidal ideation, everything changed. In the form of a tiny, tattooed and pierced brunette with the most beautiful smile and dark eyes he’d ever seen. Since then, every blessing has come with great sacrifice. Ones that he’s willing to pay over, and over, and over again for even a slice of the life that he has now. It’s a normalcy that isn’t normally rewarded to guys like him; a wife and children and a beautiful home in an even more beautiful place. So many bridges burned and toes trampled upon; exuberant coin in your pocket in exchange for scars that litter your body and enemies within all four corners of the world. It’s generally a short existence; catching a bullet in the midst of all the action or a bodyguard or a mercenary -contracted to take you out- catching you by surprise. Most never even attempt any form of domesticity; preferring the company of random women -or men- instead of committing and settling down. The job follows you. Stays with you. Remains embedded in your soul. Accompanied by long lists of evil people you’ve crossed and will forever seek revenge, debts that you can never repay and will forever be held over your head, and addiction and mental health issues. You’re never fully away from it; it will follow you wherever you go, keep you up at night, have you constantly looking over your shoulder or being wary of the smallest of bumps in the night. It’s easier to not get someone else tangled up in the madness; half the time it’s hard just to keep yourself alive, let alone a spouse and children. They’d be the first to pay the price for your misdeeds, and bringing them into that kind of world would be considered not just risky, but selfish as fuck.

Sometimes he still sees himself that way; a weakened, pathetic version of himself that opted to put targets on the backs of others instead of just dealing with his issues and his loneliness in a healthier, SOLO way. But love had found him. Somehow. In the midst of all the darkness and ruin and decay of his life, something...someone... so beautiful and bright had stumbled into his path. She’d effortlessly and easily saw past the hardened and fearless facade he’d created through an endless cycle of self loathing, sorrow, and regret; slowly chipping away at the walls he’d built around the remains of his heart and making him feel alive again. Opening his eyes to a different future and sparking a longing and a desperation and a hunger that he had felt to his very soul. Wanting her...ALL of her...in a way he’d never wanted anyone else. Trusting her in a way he hadn’t since the death of his mother; finding himself both soothed and ignited by the compassion in her voice, the kindness in her eyes, and the gentleness of her hands whenever she touched him.

His heart had been hers long before he’d ever gotten the nerve to tell her so. And he’d been both terrified and filled with hope when he’d even dare to think about a life...a future...with her. He has always felt that his time with her has been far more than he deserves; that kind of existence reserved for those who are morally stronger AND superior. But for some reason, fate had smiled upon him; giving a woman that so plainly wears her heart upon her sleeve and remains stalwartly devoted and faithful. Bearing him seven...eventually eight...children and building a home and a life beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

He’d spent the better part of an hour feeling tremendously grateful and unabashedly proud as he’d watched part of that life so confidently handling the waves below and around him. Ten years old but sometimes so wise and mature beyond his years; misunderstood by so many and not given the credit or the attention that he so rightfully deserves. A fearless, tough kid with an enormous heart; so much love caught up inside him that he’s sometimes unable to express or even cope with it. Exploring the world and the elements with near reckless abandon; always looking for adventure and forever staring challenge straight in the eye. And it’s bittersweet; the act of making the memories with THIS son that his mind had created with for the boy he’d lost years before.

“What do you think it feels like?” TJ asks, as they sit side by side. A hundred yards from shore where the water is calmer; perched upon their boards with their legs dangling over the sides. “To get bit by a shark.”

Tyler glances over; noticing small inklings of his wife inside the ten year old. The way his namesake tilts his head to the side and his eyes narrow as he contemplates a question. The smooth bridge of the nose and the shape of his jaw. But he’s definitely a ‘chip off the old block’; the brilliant blue eyes and the broad shoulders and the long, lanky body, the cheeky smirk and the smile that brightens his entire face. And there’s more. So much more. A strikingly similar personality; dry witted and quick with the sarcasm and the smart ass comments. And the temper; volatile and unpredictable, always seeming as if it’s on a permanent, slow boil.

“I don’t know, mate. But I can guarantee that it does NOT feel good.”

“Mick Fanning...the surfer that mum likes...he got attacked by one. During a competition. A great white. Hit him right in the face with its tail! Can you imagine? I would have been shitting bricks for sure! It would be kind of cool to see one, though. We’ve only ever seen a couple of dorsals in the water. When we’ve been hanging out on the beach. Kinda weird we’ve NEVER come across one.”

“I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you. I’ve spotted a few in my time. Long before you were even a twinkle in your mumma’s eyes. Wasn’t close enough to go one on one with ‘em. Thank Christ.”

“Sometimes I get this really weird feeling in my stomach. When we’re out here. It’s like something is just moving around in there; kicking at your insides and tugging at them and stuff. Like my body is telling me that there’s something underneath me. Maybe even WATCHING me. You ever get something like that? Where you just KNOW something is there?”

“Had that happen a lot. Always been too chicken shit to look down, though.”

“I like that, you know. That you’re not afraid to admit you’re scared of things. Lots of guys are. They act all big and bad and like nothing bothers them, but you know it’s all bullshit. You’ve never been like that. Even since I was little. You’ve always talked about being scared of things and how it’s okay to be afraid of stuff. And that we shouldn’t be embarrassed to get emotional. Cry and stuff. Do you still feel that way?”

“I do. I feel even stronger about it now. Nothing wrong with a guy being vulnerable. Doesn’t make them weak or pathetic or less of a man.”

TJ grins over at him. “Just makes them human.”

“You know, you sound a hell of a lot like your mum sometimes.”

“That’s a good thing, if you ask me. ‘Cause mum’s pretty awesome.”

“Yeah…” Tyler smiles wistfully, then glances towards the shore; his wife up from her nap and getting the littles settled for breakfast on the deck as the older kid’s lend a hand. “...she certainly is.”

TJ’s expression turns serious. “You meant it, right? When you said you didn’t say or do anything to make mum cry.”

“Everything we both told you was the truth; we were talking about some adult stuff and she got emotional. All I was trying to do was comfort her. That’s it. You know how your mum can be; when she’s feeling overwhelmed and hasn’t been sleeping well and she tries to take too much on.”

“She needs to learn how to rely on other people . And ask for help when she needs it.”

“It’s hard for her. Even after all the years she’s been with me. She finds it difficult to ask for help. Guess she’s so used to people letting her down, that she just can’t shake that part of her. We’ll just keep an eye on her and just chip in where we need to and hope for the best, yeah?”

TJ nods, then gives a bashful smile. “I’m sorry, dad. For kinda flipping out on you earlier. But I saw you kneeling in front of mummy and then I could tell she was crying and my brain just immediately went to think you’d done something wrong.”

“We’re a lot like, you and I. In a lot of ways. I tend to react a little too quickly, a little too soon. Old habits die hard. But I would never…EVER...hurt your mum. That is the last thing I want to do. Intentional or not. I love her, mate. In ways you can’t even understand. In ways I can’t even understand sometimes. I just hope that one day you get to feel that way about someone. Or close to it.”

“I just worry about her,” TJ sighs. “I don’t like when she’s upset. Especially when she cries. I hate seeing it; mummy sad. I wish I could find a way so she’d never be sad EVER again. Wouldn’t that be nice? If we could find a way to make sure mummy NEVER got sad again?”

“Yeah, mate. It would. But life isn’t like that. We gotta go through the good AND the bad. Unfortunately.”

“Mum’s been through a lot. I mean, I know you have too. But mum...I don’t know...she’s different. She’s...well...she’s my mum. I know you’re tough and strong and brave and all that. That you can handle things better. But mum puts on a good show for people I think. She lets on that she’s okay and she’s totally fine with taking care of everything one else. But sometimes? Sometimes I don’t think she’s okay at all. Do you ever think that? That she’s just pretending to be alright?”

“I don’t just don’t think. I know she’s doing it. And believe me, I’ve tried to get her out of it. But your mum…”

“And she has the nerve to call US stubborn? She is way worse.”

“She’s got a hard head,” Tyler agrees. “And in some ways, it’s a good thing. She never gave up on me. Even when everyone around her was telling her she should. She just ignored them. Had my back no matter what other people said.”

“It’s ‘cause she loves you. And you’re the first person to ever really love her. Other than her dad and he died when she was young, so ....” TJ rakes a hand through his wet hair. “...sometimes it must feel like it’s just you and mum against the world, huh?”

“I’ve felt that way. A few times. But then all you guys started coming along and our team got even bigger. I like to think we ALL have each other’s backs.”

“Of course we do. We’re family. We’re all in this together. And we’re Rakes. Means we’re tough and we don’t back down. From anyone or anything. We might be scared, but we’re still standing up for what’s right. That’s what you taught us. That even though we might be afraid, we gotta do the right thing. Always. A man isn’t measured by the things he has, but by the people he’s helped.”

Tyler grins. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I read it in a book at school. One of the grade eight kids left on the playground and I was bored and I found it and I just started reading it. I guess I liked that line for some reason. It stuck in my head. Even if there isn't much else up there.”

“Don’t you do that,” Tyler gently scolds. “I don’t want to EVER hear you do that. Talk shit about yourself.”

TJ frowns. “It’s kinda hard when everyone around you is doing it.”

“At school?”

He nods. “I’m the dumb, crazy kid. That’s what everyone thinks. Especially the teachers.”

“They ever say that to you?”

“Not to my face. But I walked by the staff room once and they were talking about that ‘Rake kid’. About how he’ll probably end up in juvenile detention by the time he’s thirteen. And in and out of jail when he’s older. You can’t tell me that it was about Takota or Declan. I might be stupid, but I’m not THAT stupid.”

“You’re not stupid at all. And I don’t want you ever calling yourself that again. You just need some help. Find different ways to learn. Not everyone learns the same way. I was like you in school; couldn’t focus, got ignored when I asked for help, that turned into me goofing off or getting frustrated. Lots of times I put a fist into a locker or a wall. A LOT.”

“Is that why you didn’t go to college? Like mum? Is that why you went into the military?”

“I suppose that’s part of it. Guess I liked the danger and adventure of it too. Going off and fighting bad guys and getting to shoot guns and all of that shit. Never thought about actually having to kill people and what that would feel like.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Not good, mate. Not good at all.”

“Even if it’s bad people? Like that Nathan that hurt you?”

“People like him are exceptions. But for the most part? I don’t like doing it. Not even if it’s in the course of helping someone else. But sometimes…”

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” his son finishes for him. “Sometimes it’s you or them, right?”

“Exactly. And don’t worry about school, alright? I’ll give them a call. Ask for a meeting. Get things sorted and get you the help you need. And deserve.”

“Man…” TJ grins. “...they are going to shit their pants when they hear from you.”

Tyler reaches out to ruffle his namesake’s hair. “Maybe. Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Wanna head in? See what mum’s cooking up?”

“I don’t know." The ten year old's nose crinkles in disgust. "Do you think it’ll be edible?”

“Is it ever?”

TJ laughs. “Dad…”

“Whatever you do, do NOT tell her I said that.”

“Don’t worry…” Leaning across his board, the ten year old wraps both arms around one of Tyler’s; squeezing tightly and laying his head against his dad’s shoulder. “...your secret’s safe with me.”

[heavcnslyre]

ricky bowen x reader series! part one

— starstruck au!

series masterlist, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten

IN WHICH you reunite with your cousin, ashlyn, and the rest of your family in california, and your sister plots to find a way to meet the one and only ricky bowen.

WARNINGS swearing

NOTES you are 17, camilla (your sister) is 19, ashlyn caswell is your cousin and she is 17, your aunt debbie is your moms sister and you’re visiting your moms mom in california. this is very NOT CANON! not all of the mcs know each other and they don’t live in the same city. also my writing isn’t the best but i hope you enjoy anyways! let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next parts :)) also STREAM LIE LIE LIE

(y/n) = your name

text dividers from @writeyourmindaway !!

lowercase intended.

“are you really watching this movie again?” you ask your older sister, camilla. she groans.

“yes! now move, it’s almost ricky’s scene.”

you roll your eyes and move out of her way, keeping your eyes on the screen. the movie was cheesy and you felt like you’ve seen it hundreds of times, since your sister was constantly watching it. she had an obsession with this guy— ricky bowen. he was an actor and a singer and any teenage girl you talk to loves him, but you didn’t really understand the hype. sure, he was attractive and talented but….

“i can’t wait to meet him, i’m sure he’s even nicer in person,” camilla gushed, staring at the screen.

“what do you mean meet him? we live in new york. he lives in california. not really someone you can just run into on the street.”

camilla rolled her eyes, not looking away from the screen. “we’re going to california in a couple weeks, dumbass. and i’m going to meet him, i just know it.”

“we’re going so we can visit grandma in glendale. you can’t just go running off to los angeles by yourself to somehow find him.”

“i’ll... figure it out. i’m nineteen anyways, i can do what i want. and glendale is really close to la, only like a 15 minute drive.”

“yeah, okay. good luck with that.” you watch another minute of the movie before turning away to go into the kitchen. you’re making yourself a snack when your mom comes in.

“hi hun,” she said, setting some groceries down on the counter.

“hi mom. what are these? i thought you went grocery shopping on saturday.”

“i did,” she said, starting to put a few groceries away. “this is stuff for california, i wanted to start shopping early. we also have to go find christmas gifts for your grandma, aunt, uncle, and cousin. easier if we get them here rather than there.”

“oh, aunt debbie is going? last time i texted ashlyn she said they weren’t going to make it out there this year,” ashlyn was your cousin, and she was 17, just like you. you and her had been close your whole life, but when your aunt, uncle and her moved to minnesota a few years ago, you drifted a bit. seeing her for holidays was one of your favorite things, you loved having your whole family together.

“yeah, well, apparently my mom has a new boyfriend and debbie decided she wanted to meet him so they made it work.”

you hum. “also heard that ashlyn’s still talking to the guy she met last summer in california.”

“that was probably also a deciding factor.” you and your mom laughed and you helped her put away the groceries.

ashlyn: plane just landed!! when r u getting here?

you: leaving in about an hour!! see u soon omg

ashlyn: CANT WAIT!!!!

you heart her message and slip your phone into your pocket, excusing yourself to go find some last minute snacks from the shops at the airport. you had been sitting next to camilla and she was blasting ricky’s music in her headphones. she was so obsessed with him it was tiring.

eventually, your flight was called and you boarded the plane. you texted ashlyn that you were boarding and she sent back a party emoji, then proceeded to tell you to hurry up. luckily, the plane ride was only around four hours, and you had a really nice playlist that was the perfect length. your current favorite artist was nini salazar-roberts, who had recently released new music. she also happened to be ricky bowen’s girlfriend, and camilla refused to listen to her for whatever reason. you couldn’t really care less, nini had good music.

‘drivers license’ began to play and you drifted off to sleep. you woke to camilla shaking you harshly.

“c’mon, we’re landed,” she said and you nodded, stretching. she stood up and left her seat, not even waiting for you to catch up. you scoff and grab your things before jogging to catch up to her and your parents who she had rushed to. you were already feeling the change of time zones, leaving new york at one then arriving in california at two after a four hour flight.... super trippy.

as your parents went off to rent a car, you and camilla sat by each other. she went on her phone and was scrolling through ricky’s instagram. you rolled your eyes.

“have a plan on how to meet him yet?” you ask. she sighs.

“sort of. he’s performing tonight. at nini’s birthday party. i just need to find a way into the party.”

“yeah, because a random girl is going to be allowed into a famous persons party.”

camilla scoffs. “you don’t know, they don’t always have great security. i just have to convince mom and dad to let me go.”

“go where?” your dad asked as the two of them return, car keys in hand. camilla’s eyes widened slightly.

“go to the different malls. and beaches. with (y/n) and ashlyn. girl time,” she lied quickly. your mom nodded.

“not a bad idea, spend some time with your family. we’ll think about it. grandma mentioned having a car for you to take.”

“awesome!” camilla squealed. she turned to you and made a ‘i-can’t-believe-they-just-agreed-to-that face’ and you laughed.

“c’mon girls. time to get going, everyone’s waiting for us.”

“(y/n)!” ashlyn squealed, running out of your grandmas house as soon as you closed your car door. you grinned and ran towards her, hugging her tight.

“ashlyn i’ve missed you so much!”

“i’ve missed you! i have so much to tell you!”

you raised your eyebrow at her. “about the boy you’re talking to?”

she blushed and mumbled a maybe before your grandma came out of her house, her boyfriend following close behind. today was the first time anyone was meeting him, and you were pretty excited.

you hugged your grandma tight and she introduced you to her boyfriend, kevin. he greeted you all and although he seemed a bit awkward at first, he seemed like a good guy.

soon enough, you were in the room you were sharing with both camilla and ashlyn. camilla was not excited to hear that the three of you were sharing, but your grandma assured her that the room was more big enough for all of you, and it would be nice for you all to spend time together — get into the christmas spirit. camilla mumbled under her breath that that was bullshit, but your grandma didn’t seem to hear her.

as camilla was out in the kitchen with your family, you and ashlyn sat on your bed as she scrolled through social media.

“ashlyn! tell me about this boy you’re talking to!” you exclaimed suddenly. she laughed at your sudden outburst but put her phone away immediately and turned towards you with a big smile on her face.

“oh my gosh (y/n) he’s the best. we’ve been texting and facetiming everyday this year. i honestly can’t wait to see him later, i feel like i’ve been waiting years to finally see him again.”

you grinned. you don’t think you’d seen ashlyn this happy in a long time. “when are you seeing him tonight? what are you doing? do you know what you’re going to wear?”

“oh, jeez (y/n). one at a time,” she teased. “i’m meeting him at this club. it’s his best friends girlfriends birthday, and he invited me to her party. and i do have a few ideas but i wanted you to help me out.”

“absolutely i’ll help!! am i going to be able to meet him while we’re here?”

“yeah, i don’t see why not. he’s talking about going to vienna to go to the beach, i’m sure it’d be fine if you tagged along.”

“if i tag along and third wheel,” you both laughed. “kidding. i’d love to go!”

“good. because i wasn’t going to let you say no.” she stands up and stretched. “now help me figure out what to wear tonight.”