#so these random reels felt like a bit of fresh air

[baronessblixen]

gillian is such a middle aged mom she has discovered how to share reels on instagram and now has to post them too ☠️

It's not her doing her social media, though, is it? 😁 I think she's shared reels before? These two now seem random, though. I'm always happy with anything that's not about her book, her drinks, or various genitalia.

[oddlykilledghosts]

I Want You To Like Me - Rafe Cameron x reader (Part One)

Summary: You're a pogue by choice, kook from birth. The friendship that you have with the other pogues is undeniable, no one questions their loyalty for you or your loyalty to them. So when a certain King of the Kooks takes interest in you, it's only right to turn him down. Right?

This chapter is mostly a set up of your relationship with the pogues and a set up for future chapters so it may be a little slow! Also it’s a little long haha

Word Count: 6.1k

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x reader, John B x Sarah Cameron, platonic!Pogues x reader

"How many drinks do you think I could chug before I die or pass out?" John B's voice rang through the walls of The Chateau and you rolled your eyes, chuckling a little to yourself as you tied your hair into a ponytail. You looked at yourself in the mirror, squinting, then tilting your head. Surveying yourself, you started picking at and fixing your clothes and tidying up your new ponytail. Your skin was even tanner than usual; you had spent the last couple days either exclusively on the beach or on the HMS Pogue and Pope insisted you wear more sunblock, but you always forgot to reapply it. Especially when JJ is being an idiot and you're one of the only sane, and usually partially sober, people that can reel him back in. You even had a suntan line from a choker you had borrowed from Kiara, which you decided to put back on to cover that up. Along with another one you had with you just so it was even harder to tell, which made for a pretty good look anyways.

The other Pogues voices drifted out to the other side of the house, near the kitchen and towards the screened in porch. You could almost still hear laughter throughout the house. The Chateau felt like home to you. It was comforting and almost always warm since John B could rarely fix the air conditioning that had broken a couple months ago. John B had valiantly offered for you to stay there while your parents were away on vacation. Not like he had much of a choice, in your opinion. You would’ve spent every waking minute there anyway. But alas, John B (ever the gentlemen) had helped you pack some clothes and makeup and other things you wanted with you and had set you up in the guest bedroom. JJ initially offered to share the room, with a very obvious wink and a sly remark of something about cuddling…or more if you wanted to. You all knew he rarely spent time at his own house and you had protested that he should have the room. But JJ assured you, along with John B calling him an idiot, that he would be fine on the pullout couch. So here you were. It was nice being there. It felt more like home than anywhere else.

Again, you squinted at yourself in the mirror. Whatever it was, something was off. A weird sense of deja vu settled over you and your eyebrows furrowed at your own face in the mirror. Was it the shirt? Maybe it’s the shirt. You pulled off the shirt you were wearing and stuffed your hand into the dresser in front of you, grabbing a shirt at random. The first thing you did was sniff it, checking its freshness. Seemed alright. You pulled it over your head easily and pulled at the hem so it fit you nicely. It looked good. Maybe it wasn’t the shirt. Is it the hair? It’s the hair. It’s got to be the hair. You took your hair from the ponytail and let it fall into its usual place. You ran your fingers through it the best you could and sighed. Maybe it wasn’t the hair either.

Maybe you still felt the remnants of the marsh water. You and the other pogues had gone swimming earlier in the day off the HMS Pogue and you had taken a quick shower a little bit ago. Maybe the feeling hadn’t fully washed off. Is that it? Maybe you just didn’t feel clean. That could be it.

“Y/N!” A voice rang out. “Don’t leave me alone with these idiots and get your ass out here!” Kie. You smiled to yourself. Kie was one of your first friends on the island, being a kook and all. Although you took Kiara’s side when the whole kook vs kook drama happened and the two of you delved into a friendship with the pogues, you weren’t unfriendly with Sarah. Maybe you saw the good in people. Or that it was just high school and that a year or two could change a lot. You and Sarah used to be best friends too, so it did make things a little complicated. You had considered her family. So while you would stick with Kie till the end, you didn’t put it past yourself to give Sarah a second chance. But as long as Kie was still upset over what happened, you weren’t going to cross your friend like that. So for the most part, you didn’t really hang out with the Camerons anymore. Kie was a ride or die, you would do the same for her.

You took one last glance at yourself in the mirror. Something was definitely off. You shook your head and left the room. It’s got to be nothing.

____________________________

The sun was still out but it was making its way towards the other side of the sky. You had situated yourself between Kie and Pope on one of the couches on the porch and were leaning your head against Pope’s shoulder while Kie talked. You guys had eventually turned some music on between your conversations and it was one of John B’s playlists. You hummed along with one of the songs.

You had gotten John B off the idea of drowning himself in beer rather quickly. Which was a surprise. You had almost thought JJ was going to challenge him and you’d have to send both idiots to the hospital. Those two could rarely stop from one-upping one another. Pope was usually there to run some interference though. But after the realization that the Chateau was straight out of any alcoholic beverages, it was a short lived dream.

Kie continued, “It just sucks that no one cares about these environmental damages that the community is creating by building more and more housing developments and destroying various habitats for animals. It’s not just here guys.”

You spoke up, “I think it more than sucks. People don’t care about the environment, they care about money.” You sighed, thinking about what Kie was talking about. There was a big part of you that felt sad that the wrong people were always in charge. There was only so much a couple kids from the Outer Banks could do against these big corporations.

There was a sound of agreement from the other Pogues, who knew way more than you and Kie about what it was like for people to care more about money than being good people. Even though you and Kie were Pogues, the Kooks only treated you marginally less than their actual Kook friends. They wouldn’t outright show it, but you could tell that they didn't regard you the same way they would to JJ or the other boys.

Kiara leaned back next to you and started again, “Thank you, Y/N. I just think that-”

John B’s phone pinged.

Normally, this wouldn’t have been a big deal. Kie would’ve kept talking and JB would’ve answered the text and kept on with the conversation. But John B looked at it, smiled, then put the phone back down. He tried to hide his expression but he wasn’t quick with it, and JJ just happened to be looking at John B at that moment and a fire ignited in his eyes.

JJ laughed from the seat next to him, lunging for the phone, “Who was that? Someone looking to get some John D tonight?”

John B acted quickly, standing up before JJ could grab the phone in his right hand. “JJ, does everything have to be about sex?” Pope stood up, ready to get in between the boys if he had to.

Kie and looked at each other with wide eyes and then back to the boys. John B would’ve just said if it was just a girl. JJ laughed again, “Depends. Am I right?”

John B hesitated, giving JJ ample time to grab JB’s phone out of his hands. JJ looked at it. Then at Kie. Then back at the phone. “Bro you’re hooking up with the Kook princess?”

You felt Kiara’s body shift next to you, her shoulders tensing. She didn’t say anything. John B didn’t even reach for his phone back. He didn’t try to take a peek at Kie or her reaction. You all just stood there. Like that for a second. A minute. Pope looking at you and Kie. JJ staring at the phone, almost as if it wasn’t actually in front of him. And John B looking at JJ. Then JJ spoke up again, “She’s inviting you to a Kook party. Is this…a thing?” Again, he took a sneaky look at Kie but her face was stone. She didn’t even look pissed yet. It was hard to even tell if JJ was amused by this, usually he would be but if he was, he wasn’t showing it.

Pope finally spoke in between the silence, “Were you going to tell us?”

John B reached for his phone, grabbing it out of JJ’s hands this time, and JJ let him have it. He shook his head but didn’t say anything. Personally, anything would be better than his silence. It spoke more volume than any words that could’ve come out of his mouth. The music playing in the air from the nearby speakers felt stiff now, out of place. John B didn’t even think to turn it off.

Kiara sat up, “If she’s inviting us to a party then let’s go.”

The four of you snapped your heads at the girl and simultaneously uttered confused variations of “What?”

Kiara shrugged, “Why not? There’ll be drinks that we don’t have to pay for and just think about how satisfying it will be to see the constipated faces of the kooks when we show up.” She looked at you in that moment, motioning and willing you to agree. To say something. To help her. You could see how much this hurt her. This unknown betrayal of a line crossed that wasn’t strictly drawn.

You looked away from her and towards the boys and stood up, “Yeah I agree. This way John B can go. It’ll be good. And hey, JJ?” You looked at the blond and he met your eyes. “You’ve never turned down a free drink in your life. You’ve gotta come.” You gave him a smile and he rolled his eyes, forming a smile of his own.

He didn’t have to walk far to reach you, but when he did he laced his arm over your shoulders and pulled you into him, intentionally messing up your hair. “Oh little Y/N, how you know your way into a Maybanks heart.” He looked at the group. “I agree with the girls, why not go? It’s gotta be good to show up unannounced. Pope come on, you’re with me on this right? Look at this face and say no.” JJ grabbed your cheeks and pointed your face at Pope as you made your best puppy-dog face. You didn’t know if it was effective, and it was probably quite pathetic, but eventually Pope shrugged and agreed.

Kiara then stood up next to you and JJ and she looked at John B. Actually all of you turned to John B. “What do you say Routledge?” She said. Somehow it had an edge to it. As if she was challenging him,

“You guys promise not to be assholes?”

You chuckled a little bit and said, “Ooh sorry JB, I promised other people I would be an asshole.”

JJ shrugged with his arm still over your shoulder and smiled, “For reference, I am the ‘other people’ in this instance in case that wasn’t clear.”

All of you knew you were joking. Half joking? A quarter joking?

Pope rolled his eyes, “No comments about those two, but I know I won’t. I’ve had enough Kook drama for at least a couple more weeks.”

John B switched his eyes on Kiara who sighed, annoyed, and huffed out, “No one leave me alone with Sarah and I’ll be good.”

That was enough for John B, “Everybody in the Twinkie.”

_________________________

The party was at Tannyhill, which everyone had expected, but since you hadn’t been there in forever you had forgotten how big it was. You weren’t this kind of kook. Most of the parties the pogues frequented were those at the Boneyard so you never really got a jist of just how many people there actually were. But here? It was almost hard to ignore just how many people crowded the outside of the house and how many cars were lined up and parked following up to the house. Either Ward Cameron was out of town or he was a completely different person than you thought he was.

You guys had to park quite a ways away so it was a long walk to the house and John B, Kiara, and Pope had already started making their way towards the house when you figured you had dropped your phone under one of the seats. Or under something in the Twinkie. It had to be there. It had to. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. Thankfully, JJ offered to help you look. If Kiara was in trouble, the two of you could count on Pope so it wasn’t a big deal they went in before you.

“Are you sure you brought it with you?” JJ asked from the back of the Twinkie. You were situated at the front looking under the first two seats and getting frustrated with every single second.

“I’m sure, J.” Were you? You couldn’t really be one hundred percent sure, not really. But you were sure that you were not going into a party with kooks without your phone. How were you going to pretend to text if you didn’t have your phone?

“Can we call it?” JJ asked hopefully, popping his head up to look at you.

Your shoulders slumped as you met his eyes and you scrunched up your face, “I think it’s on silent.”

He sighed and pressed his lips together, almost forming a smile, “I think you left it at the Chateau.”

You groaned, “JJ I didn’t. I need it.”

He climbed out of the Twinkie and made his way next to you outside the door of the passenger seat. “Need it for what? We’re going to a party.”

You flopped down onto the Twinkie’s seat and groaned again. “What if I get left alone? I’m gonna need the phone to pretend to text. Or even play candy crush. Something. Anything. I haven’t hung out with these assholes in over a year who even says I know how to talk kook anymore?”

JJ tilted his head at you and smiled letting out a couple laughs between breaths, “Who says you’re going to get left alone?”

You looked at him as if he was stupid. Like, duh, yes of course there’s always a possibility that you’ll be alone at a party. Doesn’t that happen to everyone? Everyone needs a back-up plan, right? “Um, me, Maybank. I do. I say that.”

“Okay well…” he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the Twinkie, closing the door behind you and locking it. “Try and get rid of me, Y/L/N. Can’t really be alone when you have a JJ attached to your hip, can you?” He engulfed you in a bear hug and pulled you out into the street, forcing you to move towards the house. The sky was slowly sinking into darkness and it caused the illumination from the manor in front of the two of you to be so much more extreme than it already was. You were surprised no one had complained yet.

You pushed him off of you playfully as the two of you walked but he kept his arms securely over your shoulders. Which is just JJ’s way of being annoying and telling you he loves you all at once.

The two of you walked like that until you stopped in front of the entrance. His arms untangled from your shoulders and he stood next to you, waiting for you to move forward. “What are you waiting for, Y/N?” He joked, nudging your shoulder.

You shook your head, staring at the door. “Nothing it’s just-” You turned towards JJ. JJ was a great person to have a heart to heart with most times, but that time is not when he’s about to go to a party. He just looked at you, waiting. “Do you think this is going to change things?”

His eyebrows furrowed, but a soft smile didn’t leave his lips, “What is?”

“This. I don’t know. John B and Sarah. I mean what about Kie?”

“Kie’s a big girl. Sometimes you have to make compromises with friends. It’s how it is. We want them to be happy, right?”

“Right.”

“Then nothing to worry about.” He thought for a second and then grabbed his hat off the top of his head and squashed it down onto yours, effectively ruining your hair for the second time that night.

“What was that?”

“Confidence boost. I am very confident and it is my hat. Seems like pretty good logic that my hat can transfer that confidence.”

You squinted at the boy. “Yeah sure. Seems legit.”

“I’d say it’s pretty airtight.” JJ opened the door for you and waved you inside. “Welcome to the Cameron residence, Y/N/N.”

You feigned a swoon. “What a gentleman!” and walked in, JJ following after you. You turned back at him once you were in and whispered, “The hat’s already working.”

And he replied, “Of course it is.”

___________________

The party was as good as you thought a kook party would be. You stayed away from where some of them were doing harder drugs and kept yourself out in the open, almost as if to hide in plain sight. JJ had gotten the two of you drinks immediately and had stayed true to his promise for the most part. For a while you guys had found a couch and had stayed there except for when you were getting refills. It was always nice hanging out with JJ one on one. You guys got to talk about much deeper stuff than you do when he’s around the other Pogues. You both found each other funny and could talk about anything and make it interesting. You weren’t the biggest partier and JJ knew this, so it was nice of him to take one for the team and spend time with you. Kiara can make friends anywhere so while she may have been pissed about being at Tannyhill and near Sarah, she was able to fend for herself in crowds. Almost all the Pogues had that miraculous ability.

But then…JJ had to go to the bathroom. Long story. Mostly about a moldy sandwich. Hold that thought. Multiple moldy sandwiches. Apparently John B hadn’t been grocery shopping in awhile and you hadn’t really noticed since you had been eating at The Wreck most days. Moldy bread. You’d think he wouldn’t have to resort to that. In his defense, he says he was probably hungover. Or tired. Or half-asleep. Or high. Really high. Or just really really hungry. He couldn’t really decide. Dumbass.

So now you were mixed in with the rest of the kooks in the middle of the party, trying to find yourself back to the couch you and JJ had been sitting at. Even if he didn’t come back soon, it was still a comfortable place to sit and you hadn’t been able to spot any of the other pogues in a while. You silently cursed JJ for leaving you, even though you didn’t want to think about what horrors awaited him in the Cameron’s bathroom.

There were a bunch of people around the couch, but a seat was still open at the end and you decided it would be better to sit next to a stranger than to stand around doing nothing. Again, you wished you had your phone. You were down a phone. But up a trucker’s hat and a cup of what was probably beer. Didn’t seem pretty even. But in your head, you were willing JJ’s hat to do its magic.

You sat down and immediately sunk into the cushions, your back relaxing and leaving the tension behind, not noticing the person next to you staring at you. Your eyes were closed and you were humming to the music again just as you had done at the Chateau.

“Excuse me.” A deep voice broke you out of the song and your eyes squinted as they opened, even in the dim light it was brighter than having your eyes closed. You looked to your right and your eyes widened. Rafe Cameron was staring at you. He looked you up and down, almost annoyed. “You’re sitting on my phone.”

“What?” You could barely hear him over the music, which someone had turned up recently.

He leaned in closer to your face, right near your ear, and you almost had the urge to scoot away from him instinctively but you stayed put. “You’re sitting. On. My. Phone.” He leaned back away and looked at you expectantly. He looked slightly bored, like this party was just another in the books.

“Oh.” You stood up a little running your hand over the cushion of where you were sitting and found the phone almost instantly. It was the newest version of the iphone that had been released and it was much bigger than your own phone. It had a hard gray case and had a nice rough texture. Sitting back down, you handed the phone back to the boy. “Sorry about that.”

You looked down into your solo cup, trying not to be awkward. You didn’t want to get up. You felt like it would be rude. And lame. Definitely lame. Sure it was his house, but it was a party and you had a right to sit wherever you wanted. According to the made up party rules that are definitely out there somewhere. Rafe coughed, dragging your attention back to him. “So you’re dating that pogue now? Maybank?”

“What?”

He pointed to the top of your head where JJ’s red hat sat comfortably atop your hair.

You felt heat rise up to your cheeks, glad that Rafe probably couldn’t see under this lighting. “Um no.” You finally answered. “We’re just friends.”

Rafe laughed and it made your stomach turn. You couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Sure, Y/N.” You stared at him. He hadn’t forgotten your name. Of course he knew who you were, it was a small island. But with his ego, wouldn’t he at least pretend to forget? It’s not like you two have paths that cross frequently. Sure, you used to be one of Sarah’s friends but that was over a year ago. It’s not like he needed to be nice to you anymore. You were a pogue. The enemy. Even his thought that you and JJ were dating would be enough to cut ties with you.

You started scratching your nails against the ridges of the solo cup, “I don’t have to prove myself to you.” His eyes trailed back up to JJ’s hat and lingered there for a second before looking away again. Then after a second, you spoke, “Who are you dating?”

Immediately, “No one.”

“Yeah okay.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“No, Rafe Cameron. I do not believe you.”

“I don’t have to prove myself to you.”

This back and forth was not good. Rafe Cameron was not a friend to you and it was no use in pretending that he was. He consistently made the pogues’ lives hell and in turn, made your life hell. “No but really, who are you dating?”

Rafe shrugged, taking a swing of his own cup. “Like I said, no one.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Okay fine, don’t tell me.” He laughed at that and scratched his eyebrow. You were wondering why Rafe hadn’t just left this conversation yet. Doesn’t he have more important friends to talk to? Or drugs to take? Or even people he likes way more than you to spend time with?

You wanted to take advantage of this side of Rafe. The one who seemingly didn’t mind talking to you. At least so far. “How’s Wheezie?” You were genuinely wondering. You had a soft spot for the youngest Cameron and just hadn’t been around in a while to actually see her. She was usually a good kid. A bit nosey. But good.

A look of surprise washed over Rafe’s face as the words left your mouth, but he hid it rather quickly. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. He pressed his lips together to stop from forming a smile and said, “She’s good.” He didn’t say more than that. You couldn't tell if he wanted to and just didn’t want to pull away his kook mask and actually talk to a pogue or if he just didn’t care less to disclose information with you. Either way, he had already said more words to you than you could’ve predicted for the next five years. You would take it.

Then you asked, “How are you?”

Rafe looked taken aback. It was like no one had ever asked him that before. He blinked at you for a few seconds with a deer in headlights kind of look and then softened back into himself. “Good.” He didn’t seem sure. His answer was so curt, like he was trying to blow off his own response. But he moved on quickly, “What about you?”

“What?”

Rafe smiled, a smile you’re sure he’s used to get things he’s wanted in life, “I asked you how you are, Y/N.”

You weren’t really drunk, but this would be a good time to say whatever you wanted to and blame it on the alcohol later. “You really want me to tell you?”

He shrugged, “Why not?”

“Why not? A lot of reasons-”

“Just say it Y/N.”

“Okay, fine.” You looked down at your cup while you talked, instead of having to look at Rafe’s face. For some reason he intimidated you. You hadn’t had this long of a conversation since you and Sarah had been friends. He wasn’t always the friendliest and maybe you wanted to hold onto the hope that he could be. That there’s more to him. Or…he was just trying to get into your pants. Could go either way. “I just feel off today. Like something is different. I don’t really know what it is, but it’s been bothering me.” You looked back up at him, but he was just listening, staring softly at you.

When he knew you were done, he looked away and down at the cup in his hands just as you were doing seconds ago, “We already know something’s different. You’re here.” Then he leaned back against the couch and downed another sip of his drink.

Maybe he was right. The off feeling you had could be nothing. And it didn’t have to be bad. Right? But here you were listening to Rafe. Rafe Cameron.

You breathed in, “Could you show me to the bathroom?”

“Really?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’d rather not walk around your huge ass house aimlessly. It’ll take me forever.” Then you added, just for effect, “You wouldn’t want me to steal something would you? I mean I am a pog-”

Rafe was already up and grabbing your hand to get you up as well. It was a quick contact and once you were standing he dropped it immediately. He leaned into you before the two of you started walking and said, “You don’t have to overdo it, you know.”

You made a face and stood on your tip-toes to get close to his face, “With you, you never know.”

He made a face back and told you to follow him. Which you did.

____________________

The party had grown in size in just the time you had been talking to Rafe. It seemed impossible to get through the crowd of people at this point, but people moved for Rafe. You followed behind him in quick steps trying to keep up, as well as looking around to make sure none of the other pogues spotted you. You could not be seen with Rafe Cameron. The only reason you needed to go to the bathroom was to find JJ. Whatever that feeling was, it’s got to do something with Rafe. You could feel it. It was radiating itself off of the boy you were following like he had a fever. You would’ve gone to the bathroom yourself, but going alone this deep into a party when most of the participants were already pretty wasted didn’t seem pleasant. And that was if you found it yourself. You just prayed JJ was still having his moldy bread situation. You needed out of here before you did something you would regret.

Finally, Rafe pushed past a line of people and stopped in front of a door, looking at you expectantly. You knocked on the door, ignoring the looks and remarks you were getting from cutting the line. “JJ? It’s Y/N. You in there?”

It took a moment but finally someone from inside replied, “Y/N?” Your heart relaxed. You didn’t know if he was throwing up or…and you didn’t really want to think about it.

“Yeah. Um…I think I’m going to head home. Can you let the others know?”

“Yeah…” Throwing up. Definitely throwing up. You could picture him wrapping himself around the toilet seat. “Do you need the keys to the Twinkie?”

“No I-” You couldn’t take the Twinkie. The other pogues still needed it to get home. It’s not like they could all walk home from Figure Eight. You let the words slip out of your mouth before you could think about them, “I’ve already got a ride.” You tried not to think about JJ throwing up. But judging from what you could hear, it was hard not to. “Do you want me to come in there?”

“No!” Then, “No that’s okay, Y/N. Thanks. Let us know when you get home.” He either already forgot you had left your phone at the Chateau, or was counting on you getting there and reaching them once you had it again.

Before you could get too far from the door, Rafe grabbed your arm and turned you towards him. You were already a couple yards from the door so JJ wouldn’t be able to hear you at this point, especially not with the party, and especially not in his state. “Who’s taking you home?”

You stood confused for a second, quickly answering with, “No one. What are you talking about?” Rafe looked at you, then back at your hat, then at you again. Realization washed over you in an instant. “I’m gonna walk.”

Rafe scoffed, “No you’re not.”

“It isn’t even that far. My house is on Figure Eight too.” You technically lied. While your house was on Figure Eight, it wasn’t where you were going. You were going back to the Chateau. And you had no idea how long it would take to walk back there.

“No one has been at your house in a week, Y/N.”

“Um, how do you know that?”

“You think people don’t know you’re staying with Routledge? They think you’re sleeping with him. And while we both know you’re not, thanks to my sister, it doesn’t stop them from talking. It’s a small island, Y/N.”

“They can think what they want. What are they, jealous? I’m still walking.”

“Let me drive you home.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to repeat myself. I’m not letting you walk home, Y/N.”

You stared at him. “We’ve both been drinking.”

“How much did you see me drink? I had one.”

“That’s really believable, Rafe.”

“Come on, Y/N.”

“What’s in it for me?”

He threw daggers at you with his eyes. You were getting pretty tired anyways. There were only so many bad things that could happen with having Rafe drive you home. You finally decided, “Fine.” It was better than nothing. Much better than walking, that’s for sure.

______________________

Don’t get things confused. Rafe didn’t open the car door for you, or even the front door of his house for that matter. Or check that you had your seatbelt on before starting the car. Or even make sure that you didn’t forget anything at his house. He wasn’t a knight in shining armor, but he was doing his best at trying.

The first part of the car ride was quiet. And then suddenly, it wasn’t.

With no one around, the air surrounding the two of you was different. Something in the air had shifted and it laid itself comfortably around both of your shoulders. That feeling you had from earlier…that shifted too. It transformed into something you wanted. And Rafe was still at the center of it. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol, you didn’t really remember about how much you had consumed, but it didn’t really matter to you at that point. And you didn’t know what it was that you wanted either. It was just there. It could’ve been anything. A single word. A thought. Him plowing into a light post and dying on impact. But you knew at the center of it was going to be him. You could feel it. Whether or not it still felt bad, you couldn’t tell, wasn’t important anymore. It still radiated off of him, buzzing around his body.

You both talked. First about golf (on his behalf) and boating. Then fishing. Then parents. Then Sarah. Then Sarah and John B. You avoided the topic of each other’s friends in other regards. It was an obvious decision both of you had made. You didn’t want to ruin the conversation. You got to know more about Sarah and John B’s relationship. Obviously Sarah had been more open about her relationship with him than John B had been with her. And even though it hurt your feelings to be hearing it from a third party, you knew it was better to process without being mad at John B while he was in front of you.

It was weird how much more willing he was about talking when there wasn’t a crowd of people around. How those expectations floated away and the tension usually around his shoulders loosened. You didn’t want to like it. But you did.

“You know, this would normally be nice. I would fall for a guy like you if you weren’t such an asshole to my friends.” You joked. Were you joking? You sure hoped so. The words had just slipped out. So easily said. You looked out the window, your eyes following the skyline, hoping he would ignore what you had said and move on.

“You ever think that if you weren’t a pogue that would’ve happened?”

You sat up straighter and looked at him. The words vibrated in your brain, speaking again and again over one another all at once. “What?”

“I don’t mean you falling for me. I mean us. And then…”

“And then I became a pogue.”

“Right, yeah.” His hands on the wheel had a harder grasp then before and his knuckles were almost turning white. He pulled into the Chateau’s driveway and parked in front of the small house, leaving the car running. But you didn’t get out. And he didn’t give you any reason to.

“Yeah. I guess I did.” Heart hammering in your chest, you willed it to slow down. You were Sarah’s friend, of course you had been ‘“in love” with Rafe Cameron. It was like a Kook right of passage. You’re sure the only outlier had been Kie. The thing was, at the end of your friendship with Sarah, it had started becoming less and less one sided. You hadn’t noticed right away, of course, but you had definitely thought about it afterwards. You and Rafe had been getting closer. He started being nicer. He started caring about what you would say. He would talk to you while you waited for Sarah. He would bug you and Sarah a little more than usual on sleepovers. Of course you thought about it. But you thought that was gone. So gone, that even you had begun to forget about it. You thought he had too. You never thought he would bring it up. Ever. Especially now.

Now, both of you were looking at each other.

“You ever want it to happen now?”

Your heart stopped.

“Do you?”

He leaned forward.

You leaned forward.

Your lips were about to touch and Rafe whispered, “Yeah. I do.” Then crashed his lips against yours.

JJ’s hat fell to the bottom of the car as it tumbled from your head.

[wastelandcth]

Better Love - cth

part four: a darker blue

summary: The rain stops. 

author’s notes: I've loved writing this story and I hope you have all enjoyed reading it!

warnings: mentions of sexual themes. 

masterlist || request || join my taglist!

part one || part two || part three

And I've never loved a darker blue Than the darkness I have known in you, own from you You, whose heart would sing of anarchy You would laugh at meanings, guarantees, so beautifully

Calum was running. His legs carried him through the overgrown forest and over fallen trees. The wind around him bit at his skin, leaving him gasping for air until all he could feel was the burn in his lungs, one that was different than the burn the cigarettes he smoked gave him. Behind him, the footsteps were getting closer and closer, never stumbling like Calum had. In his arms, the beating heart pumped, racing and then slowing in random increments that left Calum's blood running cold. He hadn't remembered the way back to the cottage, the thick forest trapping him in and spitting him out somewhere unknown. The lighthouse had been the only thing high enough above the trees that Calum could see, his legs burning as he ran closer and closer towards it. Somewhere behind the wind, the ocean waves crashed into the coast and shook the world beneath him, making him stumble whenever a particularly large wave hit.

He was alone and running from something he couldn't see.

As Calum ran, the forest disappeared behind him and all that was in front of him was rolling hills of green. The footsteps behind him had stopped and Calum leaned over himself to catch his breath, the cold air burning his throat as he tried to listen for anything or anyone else. Stepping towards the hills, where the ocean roared right below, Calum's eyes watched the lighthouse in awe. The light illuminated the world around him in glimpses, making its round across the landscape to warn ships that would never come of the land. The father Calum got from the edge of the forest, the darker the sky became, leaving him to wait until the spinning light was cast his way in order to take the steps up the rocky hillside.

"Calum?" a voice said behind him, echoing through his body as rocking the Earth much like the dark blue waves beneath him.

Calum turned sharply, his eyes scanning the forest at the bottom of the hill, searching for that voice in the darkness. The whirl of the lighthouse, which got louder and louder with every pass of the light, made Calum dizzy. His head hurt with every pass of the bright light, but he kept searching until his eyes finally landed on her. The wind had whipped her hair across her face, her clothes soaked with mud and leaves that left her shivering at the edge of the forest. Calum wondered if she had been chased her too, how she had managed to outrun something that Calum barely did.

"Maeve?" he called out, his voice lost in the wind and the waves, the sleeves of his sweater ripped to shreds by the trees behind her, "Come on! It's safe in the lighthouse, we have to get there!"

"I-I can't! I have to go back to the cabin!" she sighed, Calum's ears aching at the pain in her voice, "I can't go with you! I have to stay there!"

Calum frowned, watching as Maeve turned back around and ventured deeper into the forest. His body ached, his escape making his legs burn and his joints ache front he cold, but he took another glance at the lighthouse. One last look at the promised safety before he rushed down the hill and headed towards the woods once more, calling out Maeve's name.

Calum woke with a start, his lungs aching for a breath of fresh air as his eyes looked around at the dark room, trying to gain a sense as to where he was. The bed under him was soft, the mattress pillowy and not at all like his hard mattress back home. Next to him, Maeve's soft voice was slow and even Calum's mind too panicked to listen to the words she was whispered. But the softness of her skin against Calum's was what truly made his mind wake up and made his eyes meet hers in the darkness. He was sure he looked like an animal caught in the middle of a dark road, his face illuminated only by the sliver of light coming in through the blinds of the window. But Maeve's voice brought him back down, brought his breathing into a steady rise and fall of his chest until his forehead was leaning against hers.

"Hey, I'm right here," Maeve whispered, one hand cupping the side of his face as the other was placed over his heart, feeling the pounding of it against her palm, "You're okay." Calum's lips found hers in the dark, the soft sigh that left him as their lips connected making him forget for a second all about the lighthouse and the forest.

Maeve was on his lap, their bodies moving in a slow and lazy rhythm before Calum would even remember the dream. He was lost in the way her body curved into him, how her back arched back into the palm that was keeping her steady. The bed was squeaking with every move of their hips, hidden under the groan and soft grunts leaving them both as they melted into one another. With his eyes adjusted to the dark room, Calum could see how Maeve's face twisted in pleasure, her nose scrunched up and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Calum was sure his own face looked pretty similar, his grip of Maeve's waist tightening when he felt her clench around him, the waves of pleasure rolling off of her as she got closer and closer. Calum's hand, which had been shaking in fear only a few minutes before moved between their bodies, his thumb running through the hair at her mound before moving lower and finding the bundle of nerves that had made Maeve gasped and whimper the night before.

"Come on, pretty girl," Calum breathed out, his thighs tensing underneath Maeve as he rocked up into her, "Let go for me,"

And Calum had never heard such a pretty noise like the one’s Maeve made.

"Choose life?" Maeve whispered into the darkness, her fingers slotting in between Calum's.

"Mhm," Calum breathed out, his eyes unfocused in the darkness of the walls and the bouncing of their voices, his mind still reeling from the high she'd brought him, "From the movie Trainspotting."

Maeve's shifted, moving onto her side as she rested her head on Calum's chest, her fingers tracing over the words against his skin again and again as she listened to Calum whispered about the movie and how it had changed his outlook on life. She felt the goosebumps under her touch, could feel the blush that ran down from his face to his chest. Her lips had been leaving trails of kisses on his skin, her smile pressing against his skin whenever Calum's voice stuttered from the kisses left on his skin. They'd been lying there for what could have been hours, in Maeve's mind, both enjoying the afterglow of being together in more ways than one.

"I like it," she whispered, placing a soft kiss over the peak of his nipple, "Always question the world, huh?"

"Always." he breathed out, his hands exploring the softness of Maeve's curves.

Maeve had decided that the Scottish air was infused with magic. Every day, she’d try and spend as much time outside as she could. In the beginning, it had been to give Calum some alone time; but after their eventful night and early morning, Maeve has needed the fresh air to clear her mind and stretch out her sore limbs. Her walks in the forest had been a lifesaver in the beginning too, they gave her peace and quiet and a sense of calm that hadn’t been around since the crack of a bridge had forced her to lodge with a stranger. Well, not so much a stranger anymore.

“Or is he?” Maeve thought to herself, a frown on her face as she leaned against a tree to tighten her shoelaces, “All you two do is talk and get to know one another, Maeve, you’re not so naïve to sleep with a stranger!”

In the short time that she knew Calum, she had found a lot of herself in him. She didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, but that hadn’t mattered last night or this morning when she woke up wrapped in his arms. She knew that Calum had a passion for learning and exploring, much like she did. She knew that Calum had been in a different situation than her, relationship-wise, but that hadn’t meant he was broken. If she was being honest with herself, Calum had been in the exact opposite of her situation. She wondered if he knew that too, if he resented the fact that she could leave someone so easily and not be affected by it or if he sympathized with her. Maeve felt the pain in his voice that night when Calum spoke about his ex-fiancé like she was the stars and the moon before the supernova wiped them out of his universe. She knew that he had loved her and he wanted a life with her, even if he had rushed into things.

She knew Calum just wanted to feel a love that would never be there.

The sun had filtered in through the brightly colored leaves, the kaleidoscope it made on the ground below Maeve leading her back from the depths of the forest to the cabin where the man who had made her see stars just hours ago had been when she left only an hour before. She had wondered for a long period of her life whether she was broken or not. Whether her heart was defective and unable to love since it had seemed like she was never able to love her past partners. But last night with Calum, under the safety of a dark cabin, she had felt her heart race and her mind go numb to anything but the thought of him. Maybe she’d been alone for too long, Calum’s soft touch and grunts in her ear stirred something inside of her, or maybe it meant more.

Maybe Calum had become something more.

"Do you think you'll stay in Scotland longer?" Maeve asked as she walked into the kitchen.

Calum was stood by the small window, watching the sway of the trees, a cup of tea in his hands keeping him warm. He'd been lost in his head again much like he did nowadays, the worry of heading back home to deal with his problems instead of running away pressing against his temple. Maeve’s soft voice had drawn in his attention back into the moment, his body turning towards her, pulled by the softness of her presence and how hours ago that same soft voice had thrown him over the edge. Since he’d watched her walk out of bed, dressed in only the shirt she’d thrown off of him, he hadn’t gotten the image of her out of his head. How the sliver of moonlight had shown him sneak peeks of her body; the shade of red her chest had turned from Calum’s lips, the darkness that the hair on her mound had been. He’d been thinking of her ever since she walked out of the bathroom past him in a dark blue sweater, her boots leading her outside before Calum was once again left in the dark and silence of the cottage.

“My flight leaves in two days,” he said quietly, setting the cup of tea down, “If we’re ever rescued,” he teased.

“I’m sure we will be,” Maeve laughed quietly, “I’ll jump from tree to tree if I have to. There’s no way I’m missing this interview.”

“They’d hire you anyway,” Calum chuckled and shrugged, his eyes meeting hers, “They’d be foolish not to.”

The afternoon sun beamed down on both Maeve and Calum, leaving them warm and energized. The hike, which Calum had forced Maeve out of the cottage for, had taken place on their last day alone. Maeve had brought a blanket, making Calum carry it in his backpack which was also packed with snacks, water, and a camera that Calum had insisted was necessary. They'd walked next to one another, their hands grazing one another every once in a while. Calum's eyes were focused on the trail, knowing that no matter how far they walked, their way back to civilization grew farther and farther away. Eventually, his focus turned from the panic of being alone again and the reminder of his dream to the way Maeve's warm hand wrapped around his. He looked down, where their hands were joined and swinging with every step they took, his heart jumping at how right it all felt. "Is this okay?" Maeve asked quietly, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth.

"Of course," he whispered and nodded, giving her hand a small squeeze as he continued on through their walk.

When the grassy field came into view Calum had unfolded the blanket and set down the backpack, sighing at the relief his back felt when the heavy bag was no longer straining his muscles. The field was surrounded by trees, leaves scattered around them as the sunshine warmed the air. They'd sat in comfortable silence, listening to the songs that the forest would play for them. In the daylight, where the trees, birds, and river could see them, the distance between Maeve and Calum grew until they were nothing more than strangers again. They would drift off into their own minds, stuck in the waves of anxiety and tension that came from sleeping with a stranger. But that afternoon, their last afternoon, things were different. The sunlight brought soft touches and laughter that floated into the leaves above them. Calum's lips were puffy from the soft kisses that Maeve would leave every time she giggled at something he would say.

"I'm going to miss this," Maeve whispered at one point, her eyes focused on passing clouds, "I don't think I've ever felt this carefree before."

"Me too, I didn't think my trip to Scotland would've ever ended up like this," Calum mumbled, his own eyes watching the clouds swim across the sky, "I'm jealous you get to stay here."

"Do you think we'll see each other again?" she asked softly.

"I think the universe trapped us in a cottage together for a reason, no?" Calum asked and chuckled softly, his head lifting up to look over at Maeve.

"It seems that there is no theory for which to explain a moment like this," Maeve whispered and smiled as she watched Calum lean in closer to her, "I'm going to miss you."

Their last morning together, was one they hadn’t even realized would be their last.

In the morning, when the sun hit both Calum and Maeve, the bedroom was quiet. Calum's chest was rising and falling, the soft snores that usually left him hidden by Maeve's shoulder. The wind had no longer whistled against the cottage, the last of the raindrops from the night's storm falling down with a drip, drip, drip. The birds outside were singing, cheering as if they knew the bad weather had passed and the final storm, an encore complete with thunder and lightning, had come and gone. Calum's eyes opened slowly, his hands pulling the warm body next to him closer. His body leaned closer to hers, the warmth between their bare bodies a reminder of the night before where they both held one another as their moans were whispered in between kisses.

Calum had been stroking her skin, lost in the softness of her and the way his heart ached knowing that his life would never be the same as it was in that moment when he heard the familiar accent of Mrs. Bagby. His body tensed, his arms reaching out to pull the curtain back, flooding the room with light and being met with Mrs. Bagby, who was waving from the other end of the broken bridge. Calum's wide eyes and shaky hands had forced him to pull the curtains closed, his body moving on its own as he grabbed his sweatpants and sweater, before rushing out of the cabin. His shoes were covered in mud as he jogged over to the bridge, his breath hitching as he watched the roaring water splash against the rocks below him.

"Mr. Hood! Oh no, this is horrible, are you and the girl okay?!" Mrs. Bagby called out, "When did this happen?!"

"The day I walked out here! We couldn't contact anyone! The power hasn't worked since that storm blew over!" Calum yelled, watching as the older lady’s face turned into confusion.

"Storm? Darling, there hasn't been a storm here since before you arrived," she said with a shake of her head.

Calum frowned, standing at the edge of the broken bridge, his eyes searching the older woman for any hint of a joke. But Calum was met with a worried look that made his blood run cold. He'd clearly remembered the rainstorm, remembered hearing the tumbling of the bridge and how Maeve had gasped from the room next to the kitchen. He remembered walking out that next morning and standing where he was now, trying to figure out how he was meant to spend the night with a stranger who had taken his breath away.

"Calum?" Maeve asked quietly, her voice still laced with sleep as she stood by the door. She was wrapped in a blanket, her hair a curly mess around her head as she looked at Calum confused, "What's going on?"

"I'm going to get help! You two pack your bags!" the older lady called out, the engine of her car rumbling through the forest as she disappeared down the road.

And then they were alone.

Maeve had been quiet, packing clothes and memories of a day she couldn't help but think would be the last remnants of Calum she would have. Calum, who was sat on the couch, had packed his bag and sat in silence wondering whether he was ready to leave the cabin behind. Whether he was ready to leave Maeve and the safety of the dark powerless cabin. The past couple of days had been a whirlwind, they had been tiring and filled with silence. But Calum had loved nothing more than spending time with Maeve and learning about her in those moments when the silence was broken. He'd never met anyone like Maeve before, she was open and willing to tell Calum her story with no hesitation and yet, Calum found himself wanting to know more and more about the woman in the bedroom next to him. But the sound of a car across the river brought him back to reality. Brought him back to the fact that he had to go back to a sunny city where his life had been. A city where every street reminded him of the fact that he was alone and where the only trees he could see were palm trees. He'd be back in a city where his friends tiptoed around him and the way his heart had been broken.

Maeve had been outside, sitting on a stone that had looked more comfortable than Calum assumed actually was, staring up at the sky. The sunlight had illuminated her, leaving her skin a soft golden color that looked breathtaking in the dark sweater she'd slid on after Calum had taken it out of his bag and handed it to her on the car ride back to civilization. The car ride, which had consisted of Mrs. Bagby, or Baird he still didn't quite know, apologizing profusely for all the confusion and for leaving them trapped in the forest. Maeve had been focused on the passing trees and the way the river was no longer a constant noise in her ears. But when the rolling hills of the Highlands came into view, Calum felt the ache in his heart, knowing that their little universe was far away and no longer just theirs. The sweater engulfed Maeve, leaving her protected against the bitter wind that nipped at her skin even through the sunlight. Her bags had been sat at her side, like two piles of rocks ready to float away and leave Calum stranded.

“You’re going to do amazing,” Calum mumbled as he walked over to her, “They’re not even going to know what hit them.”

“Thank you,” Maeve whispered, her head turning up to look up at him, “I hope you have a safe flight back, take lots of pictures of the ocean.”

“And you take lots of pictures of those hills for me?” Calum smiled, the flash of his teeth disappearing as the car that would take him away from the woman, and the country, he’d fallen in love with, “It was nice meeting you, Maeve.”

“It was nice meeting you, Calum,” she nodded, her arms wrapping around his waist as they both hugged, hoping that maybe the world would bring them back together again.

The sky outside of the forest had been a bright blue, the white clouds puffy and soft as they floated towards one another before separating and going their own way. Some clouds would find their way across the world, seeing bright cities and vast oceans. Others would find a patch of weather that filled them with so much water, eventually draining themselves until all they became were a forgotten memory. They would change from the white and puffy clouds above to the dark grey and condensation-filled rain clouds that hid the dark blue sky. It was unfair, Maeve thought to herself, how such an aching moment in her life had been on such a beautiful day. How the man who had unknowingly changed her life in a matter of days had left on such a beautiful and sunny day. Maeve’s eyes focused on the black car, watching as it drove down the same dirt road she’d traveled on a few days before taking a turn and disappearing from view.

taglist: @hoodhoran​​​ @finelliine​ @moonlightcriess​​​ @mxgyver​​ @calpops​​ @karajaynetoday​​ @notlukehemmo​​ @calumrose​​ @devilatmydoor​ @lowkeyflop​​  @matchacal​​ @hemmo1996-5sosvevo​​ @myloverboyash​ @2fangirl4u​​ @multistann​

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

Damaged Souls

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: dark humor, cussing, loss of parent. 

A/N: A comfort fic for myself/ me dealing with my dad’s passing. NOT EDITED, sorry for mistakes. 

Summary: While waiting to meet with Steve, Bucky meets a woman trying to skateboard. 

The park was twelve steps away from where Bucky parked, waiting patiently for his usually on time friend. He leaned against his hood, a cup of stale gas station coffee in hand. The plan was to meet Steve for some down time - he hadn’t gotten much time off from work lately. Sam and he were doing some intense intel ventures that brought him away from home in weekly intervals. Now that his oldest friend was, well, his oldest friend - he tried to see the aging gentleman as often as possible. 

His cell phone rang and he picked it up to Steve apologizing for running late. “I guess old age has its disadvantages.”

“Come, on, punk,” Bucky teased, eyes following a woman who was walking passed him. She held a skateboard in hand, a duffle bag thrown over her shoulders. “By the time you get down here, I’ll have gray hair too.”

Steve laughed and promised to be there as soon as he could. “Go grab us a bench, before they’re all taken.”

“Jesus, you really are old.”

“Respect your elders,” Steve coaxed, laughing as his dog barked for his attention. “Be there soon, Buck.”

The friends hung up and Bucky sighed, pushing himself off the car hood. He walked further into the park, sipping on his coffee and enjoying the fresh air. Admittedly, he was tired and a little run down. He was truly looking forward to meeting up with Steve, so he wasn’t upset that he had to wait a little longer. It was nice being out, so he took his time looking for a bench and ended up finding one near a basketball court. No one was playing, so he sat down and relaxed. 

That’s when he noticed you walking up to the court; he wondered if you were going to play alone but saw the skateboard in your hand. You were the woman who had passed him in the parking lot - he watched as you threw the duffel bag down at the edge of the court. Drinking his coffee, he focused on you - observing as you put on knee and elbow pads on. That was more protection than Sam wore on missions, the thought made him laugh a little too loud because you turned his way. Bucky quickly took a sip of his coffee, pretending to not notice you.

You looked away and continued to secure yourself before moving to the middle of the court. Embarrassed, Bucky tried to not stare, cursing his friend to hurry up so he wouldn’t look like such a creeper. He attempted to think of the things he wanted to tell Steve, mainly asking him for advice on how to rein Sam in but those thoughts were momentary. His eyes quickly went back to watching you attempt to skateboard. 

He noticed how unsure you were at first, getting on the board and kicking off but stopping yourself right after. Personally, he never rode a skateboard in his life - he already spent too much time off the ground and he could only imagine how silly he would look. So, it was interesting to watch someone attempting to learn - he was living vicariously through you, whoever you were. Feeling a bit more relaxed as you noticed him less and less as the time went by, Bucky watched freely and even felt excited for you when things started to go smoothly. You were balancing yourself perfectly and even picking up speed, and as if his promising thoughts were jinx - he watched as the skateboard halted and you flew backwards. 

Bucky couldn’t stop himself, leaving his coffee on the bench as he raced forward. You had fallen on your back and when he got to you, he was shocked to see you were laughing on the ground.

“Miss, are you okay?”

You blinked a few times before waving a hand in the air. “I’m fine, just...my ass hurts.”

Bucky laughed and offered up a hand. “Let me help you up, it looked like…”

“I ate shit,” you murmured, letting him pull you off the ground. Rubbing the back of your head, he asked if you hit it. “Not hard at all, I guess that’s what I get for being 30 and thinking I was Tony freaking Hawk.”

Bucky had no clue who you were talking about, but he just smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay, if it helps, before the fall it looked like you were doing great.”

Reaching down for the skateboard, you shrugged. “I guess, it’s really not that hard but my body felt that fall.”

“It looked brutal,” he admitted, pointing to the bench he was occupying. “Maybe you should sit down for a bit?”

You looked to the bench then back to the man in front of you - he was attractive, that much was obvious but his smile was kind and that’s what reeled you in. You wondered if he did this often - lingered around the park for silly women who did silly things to occupy their depression. 

“I probably should, let me go get my bag.” 

Bucky watched as you started to walk away but stopped, turning to tell him your name. He took the hand you held out and shook it lightly. “I’m Bucky.”

“Thanks for watching me fall on my ass, Bucky,” you amused, nodding to where your bag sat. “I’ll meet you at the bench.”

He watched as you left to retrieve your bag, scratching his head and praying that in his old age, Steve would take even longer to get to the park. Jogging back to the bench, Bucky sat down and picked up his coffee just as you approached. You were limping a little and he had to hide his smile as you sat down, tossing the bag down to the ground along with the skateboard.

“I have to ask,” he said, trying to get the conversation going. “Why skateboarding?” 

You let out a low laugh but your smile faded quickly; he recognized the pain in your eyes and he felt guilty for asking such an innocent question. 

“Well, my dad passed a few months ago,” you explained, feeling the constant lump in your throat forming. “And...it was one of those things, where life just feels empty. So, here I am, trying to cure my depression one new hobby at a time.”

Bucky felt a sting in his throat as you shrugged and laughed - god, he knew that feeling all too well. He lost all his family and the hell he had been put through since then, had crushed his soul. “Sorry about your father.”

“Don’t be sorry, you didn’t kill him.”

It was apparently raw, the false sense of humor in your voice - trying to deal with your pain with dark jokes. He could tell you used it often by the shrug you gave, paired with a nervous laugh. Bucky just grinned back and asked what number hobby was skateboarding.

“Shit, number six. I’ve done knitting, rug making, yoga, day drinking, throwing myself off buildings,” you laughed as you rattled off random things. Bucky grinned and shook his head, asking if you had found something worth sticking to. 

“I kinda like skateboarding, just gliding around feels free. At least...I don’t know,” you said, embarrassment written on your face. Here you were, showcasing your dead dad personality to a complete stranger….again. The difference was that this time, the person wasn’t walking away confused and unsettled by you - a person so terribly broken all she could do was just laugh at her life. Laugh loud and abruptly because it was either laughing or crying, and fuck, were you sick of crying. 

“I understand,” Bucky said quietly, half smiling as he stared down at the to go cup in his hands. “It feels like you’re just standing still while everything around you keeps on living, like you’re frozen in time…”

“Exactly,” you practically yelled, holding back as you laughed a little. “I mean, shit, can I bitch get a break?”

Bucky’s eyes widened at your vulgar humor and you apologized. “Sorry, I just - I blurt things out without thinking, more than ever now. “

He held up a hand and grinned. “No need to apologize, it’s actually refreshing.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, glancing down at your cell. “I have to go, I just decided to randomly come to practice but I need to go meet my sister. We have our weekly crying sessions over ramen and slushies.”

You reached down for the duffel bag and skateboard, and he watched as you took off the knee and elbow pads, stuffing them in the bag. Zipping the bag, you stood up and groaned. “Yeah, my ass is going to be sore tomorrow.”

“Ice it,” Bucky teased, standing up with you. “I’m glad you’re okay...it was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, again, thanks for witnessing my downfall,” you remarked, unable to move. This was different, it felt strange and a part of you didn’t want to leave the bench or this stranger. Not wanting to miss your chance and this possible attractive sign from the universe, you decided to make a move. “So, I’m going to be coming back here tomorrow around noon to practice some more…”

Bucky felt relief in his chest as he smiled over at you. “I’ll bring a bucket of ice.”

Laughing, you pointed a finger at him. “That was a good one, I better go - my sister might commit suicide if I’m not there on time and I can’t let her go see our dad first. I’m very competitive like that.”

Your eyes watched for Bucky’s reaction and when he shook his head with a chuckle, you just knew he understood. Whatever he had gone through, although not the same as yours or maybe it was, it definitely was a pain the two of you could connect with and that was enough reason to show up the next day. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he nodded, his smile small and kind. 

Holding back a smile, you started to walk away but turned to wave at him. He waved back, although you had to admit, he looked pretty dorky. Laughing, you turned around and nearly bumped into an elderly gentleman with his dog.

“Oh, sorry!”

He smiled and shook his head. “No problem, sweetheart, have a nice day.”

Usually a sweetheart from anyone irritated you but his sweetheart was kind and surprisingly genuine. Smiling at him, you left the park somewhat happy for the first time in a long time.

…

Bucky watched as Steve made his way to the bench, patting the seat next to him. “About time, old man.”

Ignoring the comment, Steve sat down, whistled for his dog to sit, and nudged Bucky in the ribs - he was still pretty strong for a man of his age. “She seems nice.”

Not surprised at all, he laughed. “So you saw that whole thing?”

Steve shrugged. “I saw enough, are you going to see her again.”

Thinking of the sadness in your eyes and the familiar reflection he saw in the mirror every morning, he glanced over to the basketball court. He had felt lonely for so long and while he wasn’t going to depend on anyone else or put his own baggage on others, but something about you felt interconnected. 

Two damaged souls, it sounded very dramatic but hell, his whole life had been dramatic. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said through a smile. “I’m definitely going to see her again.”

[augment-techs]

I DON'T KNOW HOW THE WRITING PROMPT MEME WORKS REALLY

but it's WAYYYY too CUTE to not do. Sooooo how about I toss ya some numbers! ^^

Hand holding: 12 and 10! 33,

Hugs: 2, 18, 27

Hope it isn't too much!!! ^^

Kim was emotionally fluctuating between feeling sorry for Tommy, and trying not to go into shock whenever she walked into a room and found her older, alternate universe, badass-self kissing an older, Coinless General Bulk. Watching them seemed more perfect than she might have dared hope for whatever fate was allotted to the Ranger Slayer. When they'd first dropped into their Command Center and explanations had been given, Alpha had allowed Bulk to lead his Kimberly to the medical bay, and Kim had followed after them in case they got lost. Bulk was incredibly good with the damaged woman that could probably beat him into the ground at any moment. Kimberly hadn't even huffed when he'd offered her a piggy-back ride and then insisted on bandaging up her hand that'd been cut open when she'd gone after Tommy and he'd had to defend himself with Saba. He'd sterilized the wound, wrapped it tight but not without sympathy and hadn't bothered untangling their fingers or letting go when they'd wandered back into the room Zordon occupied so they could all talk and argue and occupy themselves with searching the data banks for ways out and locating their other friends for hours. The kissing was on the extreme end of their affections, though. In the days that followed, Kim didn't see them lock lips as often, as they usually found themselves training or cooking or reading with just one hand, as the other one was invariably found more often holding onto the other; like two magnets that would always find themselves connected if given enough time.  It was, admittedly, adorable as anything she could have imagined, but still a surprise she couldn't help but balk at. Tommy underwent the same amount of shock with the random displays of affection that he often stumbled into with Kim, but he had more pressing issues: when he left to walk into a room with one of the Coinless universe alters, he always had to keep his movements to a minimum, hands far away from his pockets, and eyes to the ground. With the older Trini, Zack, and Bulk, it wasn't so bad; with the Omega Rangers out in space and their history with this smaller Tommy helping them before Drakkon shattered the Morphin Grid, they were more willing to acknowledge that the evil despot and the teen weren't the same. With those Coinless who had never been Rangers--Rocky and Aisha in leather and combat armor with battle scars, had looked very shocked when they'd met their younger selves in Ranger gear, Adam being given the oddest looks from the elders--it was much harder, because they hadn't even spoken to Tommy. And they'd all been dumped through a hole in space and time that the Eltarians and Zedd had caused when Zelya had gotten away from the moon, so everyone was still reeling--especially with them being separated into three groups around Angel Grove. Perhaps they'd make up their minds when the stragglers from Drakkon's universe arrived at the Command Center... * * "He's very strong, and very sure, but he's no Drakkon." "No offense, Skull, but how--" "Could I know that?" The spy--spy, spy, actual double agent who had to relay messages and blend into the background and not die a horrible painful death at the slightest misstep, how the fucking hell--smiled with benevolent pragmatism. Rocky nodded, mouth tightening into a line as Aisha stood her own ground in their questioning. They would have loved not to have come to such an awkward position with having to use Skull to calm down their worries, put them to bed, and smother them to death, but they couldn't find solace and reassurance in Zack and Trini's words and it didn't seem fair to keep putting the kids in defense positions just because they could calm the fuck down. Skull flicked his hand open and made a motion for Tommy to come closer to him, which he did with only a slight hesitation. He wasn't wearing his suit, but Skull had been the only person so far from the other dimension who hadn't looked at him and gone fully rigid, so he had a good sporting chance of not being injured here. When he was only a

step or two from walking directly into Skull, the man offered up his open palm, harmless and dangerous at the same time, and Tommy blinked, unsure and afraid, before deciding it was better to get everything that was going to happen one way or another out of the way. He lifted up his own hand and laid it flat in Skull's. There was dirt under his pointer finger and he only had a single twitch of a moment to be embarrassed before the much bigger fingers circled his wrist and wound around his knuckles, brought his hand upwards, as if he was little more than an infant fresh from a tub, or a sun warmed kitten.  Tommy felt a coil behind his belly bunch up all of his nerves at once when Skull's fingers slotted between his own in a possessive kind of way that sparked familiar-unfamiliar thoughts--those all fading away when the man kept their palms together and brought his head down, breathing out like a gust of a train through a mountain pass, and inhaling at Tommy's wrist. Nose tip to his skin raising all the goosebumps Tommy thought he even had. He's pretty sure his ponytail sparked at the end when he jerked a little back. Which swiftly brought him to absolute internal humiliation that showed across his face like a goddamn Muppet. Just because he'd seen that Skull let the Coinless drink his blood right from his finger and they all ate it in bread and stuff after he'd let a tube from his arm pour into the batter of whatever he made them, didn't necessarily mean the man would bite him. ...He hoped. Then, as if that hadn't been the weirdest thing, Skull lifted his head to grin at him, but didn't let go of his hand as the man addressed Rocky, Aisha, and all the other adults--and Tommy was too confused to ask him to let go, so... there was that, "He doesn't smell like he's rotting from the inside; like he needs to be wearing five layers of Axe Body Spray. And he isn't getting all put-upon and squirrely with me holding onto him. And, if you'll humor me a moment?" He was looking at Tommy directly at the last bit, but didn't let the teen answer before he found himself being wrapped in arms that had way more muscle than Skull had any right to have in any universe holy hell--and Tommy was suddenly in a bear hug, feet off the ground and spun around twice as much as he had ever been even at five years old; three times around and around, before he was planted on the couch like a sack of flour right next to Kim (his Kim, who looked utterly stunned and far too amused). The giggle that left his mouth when he smiled at her smiling at him should not have come into existence, and if he hadn't been red before, he was practically blazing as he brought his hands up to cover his mouth.  Skull's hand patted him on the head as he ducked his head as much as possible at the sounds of snickering and the other adults choking on their own reactions. He definitely felt like a kitten. "See? Totally harmless to us. Now let them take us to the Juice Bar and feed us; I'm hungry and Ernie's alive here to make me that banana-marshmallow smoothie I haven't had in over a decade." * "I...played the right politics." It would have been so fucking nice if Billy would stop asking Skull questions about the past and present the Coinless had to live through. He didn't mean to make the adults with faces he knew and worried over angry or tired, but Adam was getting very, very annoyed with how he always seemed to find the core root of things that made Skull look... All the emotion left Skull's face at that word, every single time. Politics, like a euphemism for something else entirely.  (And it was.) Adam remembered, because he was there when Zack and Trini, Aisha and Bulk, Rocky and the others weren't; inside the fortress Drakkon ran and imbibed in terrorizing whenever he got especially bored. The monster loved to play games with his sentries, with his prisoners, but rarely with his staff, because it took time and effort to train up new ones. But the sentries were his favorite, because they had to prove their loyalty each and every day. Some in

little ways, some in big ways. And Drakkon remembered Skull. Zack and Trini hoped he wouldn't, and Skull, when he was giving help and clues and time that he could to them, made it seem as if he never even crossed Drakkon's mind from being a punk that wore a spiked collar back in high school to becoming one of the higher-functioning members of the red sentries. Oh, being a spy made him so good at pretending nothing was wrong, how to be cool under pressure, how to avoid danger on all sides with one way out or none at all; how to think ahead, think like his opponent, pull facts and plans out of instinct and thin air (because what other choice was there, after all). That was why he was the best; probably why, too, he was revived from death by the universe and multiverse reshaping itself with the Grid's renewal. Politics translated so well to Games in Drakkon's palace. (It was amazing how often the horrible bastard made the sentries fight or fuck each other in his presence; the threat of his being displeased getting them through most of the time, and out the door when he was finished with himself to go vomit or find a shower or smoke so many cigarettes. As far as Adam knew, Skull was one of the very rare few who were made to fight or pleasure Drakkon himself. Skull and Adam and one yellow sentry that died before Kim returned to their world. If Kim was ever made to do as they were, she didn't tell or didn't remember, and Adam was thankful for that. And thankful for Skull. When he fought other sentries, he injured with care to avoid it being permanent or knocked out the other in a show of force that Drakkon appreciated that didn't lead to brain damage but made a good show. When he was made to fuck the others, he carried necessary aids to protect them from hating themselves or leaving much of a trace behind--condoms made from animal skin by Finster-5 he bribed out of the little freak; lubricant so there wouldn't be blood or bruising; an aptitude for pleasing other people as thoroughly and as quickly as he could while being on top and leading them through it with hands calloused but still soft. When he had to use his mouth on Drakkon or submit to the tyrant--often in front of others and while being degraded with his real name being used like words from a djinn or an immortal snake--he did so efficiently and made it seem as though he wasn't being forced at all.  Adam hated Drakkon more than anyone those times he had to be there and watched Skull pull his armor back on and resume his place in line among the other sentries like nothing had happened. He hadn't known him before the world came crashing down, but before he'd traded his loyalty for the hope that his family might survive--what a stupid hope that had been--he'd heard that the man had cried over Billy Cranston's gave for a week after his death and been good.) But this small, wide-eyed Billy Crantson, alive and well and looking at Skull with so much awe and respect that Adam could spot it from a mile away if he was goddamn blind, didn't need to hear that. Did not need the thought in his head like a rotting wound festering with so many white little maggots. So Adam continued sipping his coffee (pumpkin spice; which was so fucking good after years of straight, bitter instant black) and remained in his usual place beside Skull in the daytime, watching him go through the motions in this time out of joint from their own. Gladder still to be in the Juice Bar, watching the teens enjoy themselves, play at their video games, ramble on about tests they had to take in school; watch the Coinless eat their food and drink their smoothies, enjoy watching their young reflections practice gymnastics or martial arts. When Billy excused himself to talk to the Stone Canyon Trio about some notes they'd asked for from Ms. Appleby's class, eyes still sparkling with information given and listening to Skull like he would have listened to him even if he knew everything out of his mouth could have been a lie; nobody saw Adam wrap an arm around Skull's waist and squeeze

him from the side. It was just as well.

[lunaslethifold]

A Summer in Ottery St. Catchpole: Part 2 (George Weasley x Potter!Reader)

Pairing: George Weasley x Female!Potter!Reader

Series Synopsis: Y/N Potter used to have a huge crush on George Weasley. She could hardly even function around him. Now fresh out of a long relationship, she can say with confidence that those feelings she harbored for years are gone. George, on the other hand, had barely even acknowledged her existence. But now that Y/N is more comfortable around him, he starts to see the real her. George starts to see her in a new light. Boy, is that bad news for him.

Warnings: none, I think. (let me know if I missed any!)

Word Count: ~2.8k

Find the other works in this series in my masterlist (pinned and linked in my bio :))

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support on this series! If anyone’s wondering, I have about 7 parts planned for this series. I’m very excited to continue it and thank you so much for your nice messages! I apologize if there are any delays for me releasing parts, it’s because I have a lot of work to do :( Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think! Sorry for any grammar mistakes!

Y/N and Fred were bored. Very bored. So much so, in fact, that Y/N was going through her trunk. For fun. Fred was sat on the bed, watching her. How could they be so bored so early in the morning? There was no reason to be up, yet here they were.

“You know…” Y/N started, surveying the books she just pulled out of her trunk. “I could use a new muggle book to read. I’ve already read all these twice over,” she said, tossing them carelessly back in. “Maybe I’ll ask Hermione if she’s got any.”

Fred sat up and grinned. “Or…” he said, letting the anticipation grow for a second. “We could go find some new ones from the shop in the village.”

Y/N stood up from her spot, a new light in her eye at the opportunity to do something fun. “Fred, that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

-

Somehow the whole gang was roped into joining their trip to town. Fred invited George, for obvious reasons. Then, Y/N thought Hermione might want to visit the bookshop as well. Ginny overheard and was happy to accompany her friends. The five of them ran into Ron, who was holding a pair of gardening gloves that were missing 3 fingers. He had told the group not to ask, and so they didn’t, instead inviting him to find a replacement at one of the local shops, albeit with a little laughter. And wherever Ron went, Harry followed. 

By mid morning the seven of them had begun the short trek to town. Y/N seemed to already be cured of her boredom, as she was laughing loudly with Ginny and Harry. Ron and Hermione led the group, the former of the two still a bit embarrassed by his glove situation, and the latter excited at the prospect of new reading material. Y/N walked a little bit behind them, with Harry and Ginny on either side of her. Fred and George were at the back, talking about who knows what.

Suddenly, Y/N stopped in her tracks, pointing at the large tree that was a few yards away from them. She glanced at the two people beside her, and then took off running towards it. Harry and Ginny yelled something at her, before running after her. The three of them began to race up the tree, stopping only to yell at each other. Ron and Hermione hadn’t stopped walking towards their destination. Fred let out a light chuckle at their antics before also continuing on. But George didn’t. Fred looked to his side, about to say something to his twin, only to find he wasn’t standing there. He turned around and saw George watching the tree intently. Fred walked back to him.

“Oi, mate, you alright?” Fred said to George.

George didn’t look at him. His eyes were still trained in the direction of Y/N. “Does Y/N seem… different to you?” George said, breaking the silence.

“Different?” Fred replied, a little puzzled. “No.” George finally turned to look at him as Harry, Ginny, and Y/N began to climb down from the branches of the tree. He saw that Fred looked like he was contemplating saying something.

“What is it?” George asked, now curious to know what his brother wasn’t telling him. 

Fred looked around to see if anyone was within earshot. Ron and Hermione were already far ahead past the hill, while the other three were starting to climb up it. He lowered his voice. “Alright, I’m only telling you this because it’s in the past now, and I never keep anything from you. But you can’t tell anyone, alright?” Fred said with a serious look on his face. George nodded sincerely. “Well…” George leaned in. “Y/N used to fancy you, so she didn’t feel comfortable around you. But now she’s over it, so I reckon she’s acting more normal,” he said, shrugging. 

George gaped at Fred. Did she really have a crush on him? If he would have known… 

If he would have known, what? George shook his head. Snap out of it, he thought. You just think she’s pretty, that’s all. And she’s nice. And funny...

George remembered Fred was looking at him. “Y/N Potter? Had a crush? On me?”

“No, I’m talking to the tree,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Yes, you. Well, now that you’re seeing the real her, maybe you can be friends.” Fred began to walk up the hill, clearly ready to join the others.

“Yeah… friends.”

- 

A relaxing tune played as the nice smell of fresh paper filled the air. Y/N, Harry, Fred, and George were scouting out the horror section of the bookshop. Ginny had followed Hermione to the romance shelves and Ron was poking around the knick knacks at the front of the shop. 

George was still reeling from the piece of information that Fred had given him earlier in the day. He was trying to act casual, but he felt as if he was hyper aware of everything Y/N said or did. The heart in his chest seemed to race whenever she looked at or talked to him. 

Y/N had a deep, contemplative expression on her face. It was almost comical. Her hand reached out and she nicked one of the books off the shelf. “Look Harry, this book is about me,” she said, trying to contain her laughter. She shoved the cover in front of them. It was titled The Babysitter.

“Wha-” Harry sputtered for a moment. “You’re only one year older than me-” 

Y/N broke into quiet laughter at Harry’s reaction. Fred, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care about how much noise he was making and began to laugh loudly. George chuckled too, and one could even see Harry trying to cover up a smile. Several heads turned their way. George couldn’t help but grin at Y/N’s joyful expression. 

“That was incredibly lame, Y/N,” Fred said through his laughter.

She giggled and said, “Maybe, yes, but at least I’ll never be as lame as you.” For some reason, George found this incredibly funny and laughed even more.

As they quieted down, people stopped looking at them. Except for one boy standing nearby. He was a muggle, probably, and George wouldn’t have noticed him if it weren’t for Y/N. The boy’s eyes seemed to be trained specifically on her. His grin faltered slightly. And the worst part? Y/N noticed he was looking at her. She looked up at him and met his eyes. Her lips turned up in a half smile at him. The boy smiled back at her. George panicked for a second before quickly picking up a random book off the shelf.

“Hey, Y/N look at this one,” he said, stepping in front of her, effectively blocking Y/N from the view of the muggle. What are you doing?!, he thought, suddenly a little embarrassed. She smiled at him and leaned over to see what he was holding. All ill feelings he had seemed to wash away as he looked at her. George was holding the book upside down, sure, but it seemed to distract Y/N enough as she gently took the book out of his hands and began to read the back. 

“You know what, this actually does look interesting. I think I’ll take it,” she said, grinning at him. “Thanks, George.” He swelled with pride as she added it to the other two books in the basket that was hanging on her arm. “Cmon, let's go see if Hermione’s done.” He smiled at his sheer dumb luck and followed after her.

-

Y/N was having a pretty good day. She was spending time with her friends, eating candy from the local sweets shop, and had three new books in her bag. She felt like this was a day to remember, a stark contrast to how she had felt in the morning. Everyone was lounging around in the square of the town, looking at the windows of shops or the vendors on the street.

Y/N had her arms linked with Hermione's and Ginny's as they merrily walked to a nearby flower cart. She stopped to examine and smell her favorite flower. 

"Why don't you take it?" the woman who was selling them said.

"Oh, I couldn't-" Y/N started, surprised at the offer.

"Please, what's one flower? Plus, it would look lovely tucked behind your ear," she said, smiling warmly.

"Thank you very much," Y/N said, smiling back. She followed her advice and carefully placed it on her ear. 

She almost skipped away, feeling like her day was just made 10 times better. She joined Hermione and Ginny on a bench nearby, basking in the sun that shone on her face. It was a bit cloudy that day, but the spot they were at had the perfect amount of sunshine on it. 

The three girls chatted there for a few minutes, before a loud roar of thunder could be heard from above. Within a matter of seconds a downpour of rain began, and everyone was scrambling for cover. They took cover at a cafe nearby, where they found the rest of the gang. Harry, Ron, and Fred were sat in a booth and Hermione and Ginny squeezed in next to them. George was standing nearby, eying the summer rain through the window.

"I reckon I'll get us some drinks, yeah?" Y/N said, surveying her friends. She made her way to the counter where a longer than usual line was beginning to form, likely due to the amount of people trying to escape the rain. She stood near the counter, reading the menu written in chalk on the blackboards. She decided what to order and joined the end of the line. Someone took their place after her and tapped her shoulder. Y/N whipped around, a little startled. Her eyes met a boy whose face she oddly recognized, but couldn’t place her finger on it.

“Hey there,” he said, smiling at her.

Y/N smiled back politely. “Umm, hello!”

“I recognized you from the bookshop. Do you read horror often?” the boy said. That’s where she recognized him from! Earlier at the bookshop, when she was browsing the horror section with her friends, they had exchanged smiles. 

“Oh, I remember now. Yeah, I’d say I enjoy it from time to time,” Y/N replied.  

“You like horror books and you’re in my favorite coffee shop? A girl after my own heart,” he said. Y/N let out a small laugh. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Y/N Potter.”

He stuck out his hand. “Michael Smith.” She took his hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

-

When the rain had started, George was with Fred, Ron, and Harry. Fred and Ron were arguing about something in Ron’s shopping bag, and Harry was laughing at them. George was leaning on the alley wall, only partly listening to what they were saying. Normally he would’ve found it hilarious, but something else was in the back of his mind. It was like a looming cloud; everytime George stepped into the sunlight, it made its way back to him, invading his thoughts. 

Sensing that the conversation would not be ending anytime soon, George slowly let his mind wander. He thought about earlier in the day, when Fred had revealed Y/N’s secret to him. How long had she fancied him for? When did she “get over,” as Fred had said, her crush on him? Probably after Kenneth, George thought. That was when the change began. He thought back to that day, when she had bounded up to him and Fred in the corridor. Y/N had looked so excited at the idea of going with him. Okay, maybe there was something behind how she looked at him. How could he have been so blind to her feelings? I mean, she spent almost every bloody summer with us, he thought. Fred called his name and brought him back to reality. Snap out of it, George thought to himself. Why are you even worried about this anyways? It’s not like there’s any reason to dwell on it.

Just then the sound of thunder filled the air and a summer shower started. The four of them pulled out of the alleyway and into the nearest shop. Soon, Hermione, Ginny, and Y/N came in. Everyone except George and Y/N were sat in a booth. He stood nearby, looking out the window. 

George always liked the rain. For some, it ruined their day. But not for him. It was loud and spontaneous. It came out of nowhere and was basically unpredictable. A recipe for disaster. But not for George. It was calming, in a sense. He liked to look out the window and watch the droplets hit the pavement or soak into the dirt outside. 

So, yeah, he was a fan of the rain. But as he noticed Y/N waiting in line, he wished he had paid less attention to the weather outside and more attention to what was happening inside. He registered that Y/N was going to get them drinks. He had never really noticed it before, but now that he thought about it, it seemed that Y/N always knew what everyone’s order would be. George wondered if she made an effort to remember, or if it was just accidental. Either way, the thought brought a wide smile to his face. It warmed his heart that she so subtly showed she cared in small ways. But, when he looked up from the window he saw something that left an unsavory taste in his mouth. 

Y/N was standing in line, talking to a muggle. And not just any muggle, mind you, but the same muggle that was trying to look at her in the bookshop. George clenched his jaw as a scowl made its way to his face. There was just something about the way he was looking at her. Or maybe, the way that he had shook her hand. It made his blood absolutely boil. He saw Y/N laugh at something he said and George forced himself to tear his gaze away from them and to his shoes. His arms seemed to cross in annoyance on their own.

“Oi! What’s got your boxers in a bunch, George?” a voice brought him out of his fit. It was Fred, who had a lopsided grin on his face, with a hint of concern behind it that only certain people could recognize.

George plastered a half smile onto his face and said, “Nothing.” Fred sent him a questioning look, but hummed in acknowledgement. George tried to shake off the lingering, icky feeling that he felt. What was that feeling, anyways? He stood still for a moment, mulling it over, before he realized. Oh no, was George jealous? No, there was no way. He couldn’t be… could he? It’s just that she’s been around for so long, it’s natural that he’d be protective. Unless…

No, no, no. C’mon, it was out of the realm of possibilities. But the truth was that what he felt was undeniable. It was jealousy. 

But why? Why was he jealous of seeing Y/N talk with that boy who was so obviously interested in her? There was only one possibility that came to mind. Do I… fancy Y/N?, he thought to himself, biting his lip in thought. He shook his head lightly. It couldn’t be. But then why was he acting this way? He was having an internal battle in his brain.

 Bloody hell, he thought, I guess I do fancy Y/N. It was a wild thought, really. This girl who he had known since he was twelve quickly and suddenly captured his attention. 

George took a second to bask in the feeling of his revelation. A giddy smile made its way to his face. It was freeing almost, admitting to himself that he had a crush. He sighed and shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. At that moment, Y/N began to make her way over to them, balancing two drink holders in her arms. She set them down on the booth table, and began to pass them out to everyone. Choruses of “thanks” could be heard. 

Finally, she pulled the last cup out and walked over to George. She handed it to him, with a dazzling smile on her face. Well, dazzling to George at least. It was probably just a friendly one to her.

“Here you go, just the way you like it,” she said, before pulling up a chair to the booth. George’s cheeks heated up as he gazed at her. She was so beautiful, even here after a day of walking around in town. 

Maybe, just maybe, he could buck up the courage to ask her out.

Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it! 

[hunflowers]

Hate Me or Love Me

Word Count: 7.6k

Requested? Yes, and you can too, here :)

A/N: YAY the long awaited arrival of part 2 of Femme Fatale is here :D Thank you all so much for being so patient with me, I appreciate you all so much. The smut itself is 2k so enjoy ya filthy animals. And when you’re done, maybe throw a comment my way! *nose boops*

Everything was different.

In hindsight, this was expected. There was no way everything could simply stay the same and they knew that. They expected things to change, and honestly, they expected it for the worst. But, it was a good different. Everything was good, new, fresh, different.

Three months ago, when Harry visited Y/N at her office, nothing had been the same since. That much was clear when she straddled his lap and kissed him feverishly, losing themselves in a heated make out session, mindlessly dry humping one another until their lips went numb and their bodies felt overheated. She would’ve liked to have her way with him right then and there, but unlike Harry, Y/N liked to keep things in her office professional – besides this, which was a one time thing.

Once they separated themselves – well, once Y/N was able to remove herself from his lap because apparently he was a teenage boy that had no control over his sexual drive – they got to talking. And seriously talking at that because they knew they wouldn’t be able to go about their days anymore normally. They had to situate a common ground, a way they could run their businesses separate but cohesively without any bumps or forks in the road.

For a century, their city had been divided. Now, it was blending back together as a whole. Rough patches were inevitable. That’s why over the course of the last three months, Harry and Y/N dedicated their time to working on the city and its people and their livelihoods, hardly focusing on them as a pair and what this all meant as a step forward in their relationship.

But now, as everything was going smoothly just like they had hoped, they were left with nothing to worry about and were left with no choice but to sit down again and talk about their relationship.

They didn’t see themselves as dating. Dating would be the proper term but the two of them were hardly proper and the word just didn’t seem to fit who they were. Y/N didn’t think calling Harry her boyfriend sounded right and maybe it’s because she’s never really had one so the word was completely foreign to her or maybe it’s because she never expected Harry to hold the title, but boyfriend wasn’t exactly how she imagined him.

They were exclusive, that much was certain. About a month ago they were at a meeting and this guy had come up to Y/N and was all polite and sweet and had the courage to ask her to go out for a drink, but Harry stepped in, not liking the fact that someone had the audacity to come up to her, especially now, as he had these mushy-gushy feelings about her. If he would’ve done this months ago there would’ve been no problem. But, now that Harry got a taste of what liking Y/N felt like, he didn’t want to stop and he wasn’t going to let some random lad swoop in and take his girl.

Something of similar style happened in Y/N’s case too. Two weeks ago, after a long night of bullshit this and bullshit that, they went to their favorite bar. Y/N goes to the bathroom for one minute and when she comes back, she’s greeted not by one, not by two, but three women crowding around Harry. He didn’t look uncomfortable per se, because they were attractive women, but Y/N could just tell he wasn’t enjoying their presence. And this bubble in her gut –she deemed it to be jealousy, swelled the moment she saw one of them put their hand on his shoulder. If Y/N didn’t have any decency, she wouldn’t hesitate to hurt each and every single one of them, but Y/N’s a nice girl, so she went over to them very calm and with the most southern belle smile she could muster and made it very clear they were not welcome to talk her Harry.

Needless to say, they were shaking in their heels.

But, they weren’t dating.

They were simply exclusive.

Right?

Right.

Maybe.

They figured that this night was as a good as any to sit down and hash things out since business was a little slow on both ends, but it seems nothing can ever really go smoothly for them.

At around six, Harry knocked one the door to Y/N’s home, bottle of wine in hand, a kiss to the forehead delivered, and the smell of heavenly dinner wafting up through his nose. The sun was just setting over the horizon, a warm glow radiating through the large windows on the far wall that reeled in the romantic and dreamy atmosphere around them.

Never had Y/N imagined herself to be romantic, wanting to enjoy a candlelit dinner with some wine and with her guy, but she was surprising herself more and more these days, all of her attitudes shifting and changing the more she found herself around Harry. Same goes for him. He would rather be caught dead then settle down with someone, but alas, his morals were taking a hundred-eighty degree turn these days.

And maybe romanticism went a bit more down the sexual path the more they indulged into that bottle of wine. Leaving the remainder of their dinner to sit until Y/N cleans it up later, they moved themselves over to her couch – because that seemed to be their brand – and engaged themselves in another heated make out session. Except this time they moved past the teenage humping stage as Y/N gently shoved her hand into his pants and past his briefs, nails scraping over the patch of hair that trailed to his growing erection, her fingers maneuvering to pull him out and into the open. He hissed at the cool air conditioning encasing his throbbing cock, mouth falling open and Y/N leaned down to press a moist kiss to his tip.

And he knew, he knew he was about to get the best head of his life and she knew was going to give the best head of her life, but then the phone rang. They ignored it at first, letting it ring on as she sank her mouth down and around him, her warm, velvety mouth sucking him in like he was a lollipop. Her tongue flattened against his shaft as her throat constricted the moment he pushed further down her throat, a guttural moan escaping Harry’s lips at the mesmerizing feeling.

Then the phone rang again.

This time it was both of theirs.

Y/N removed herself with a huff, and Harry whined in discomfort, but they both reached for their phones on the table and answered hastily to whoever disrupted them. They both specifically remember telling everyone not to bother them for the rest of the day, yet it seems no one knows how to comprehend simple words.

“What–”

“Y/N I could not care any less if you were in the middle of having sex, you need to get to Central now,” Flo snipped on the other line, although from what Y/N could tell, it seemed like her best friend sounded nervous. And that concerned Y/N a lot.

Then Flo hung up without another word, which sent Y/N into a scramble of pulling herself together and putting some shoes on. Harry looked beyond confused at her while also trying to focus on whatever the person he was talking to was saying and then not another moment passed by before his dick was shoved back into his pants and he was running out the door with Y/N.

“This had to happen the moment I hit the back of your throat,” he scoffed as they waited for the elevator to reach them from whatever floor it started on.

Y/N turned her head to Harry slowly, looking at him with a straight face, and blinked her eyes before smacking him on the chest. “Not the time!”

From what Harry could gather from Will, who was basically the night-shift manager in his office, it seemed there had been a bit of riot down in Central City because God forbid anything go easy. It was no secret people were upset with the merge of the city, because all their lives they’ve grown to hate the other side, and it was understandable because change needs time. But it was fucking tiring having to deal with ignorant people stuck in their ways.

The drive never felt so long, especially with the few traffic heading into Central. It was normally a twenty-five minute drive from Y/N’s house, but this night it seemed everybody and their mother wanted to take a leisurely drive.

Harry and Y/N tried thinking of whatever this could be about, but for the past week there had been absolutely nothing for them to worry about, so this whatever this was really coming out of left field. And it pissed the both of them off to no extent that they had very little to go off of for whatever it was they were walking into.

Y/N tried to text and call Flo numerous times but in the timespan from the phone call to now, she hasn’t responded once. And Flo was always on her phone.

“What the fuck?!” Y/N screamed when her phone went straight to voicemail for the fifth time. It was ringing minutes ago and now there was nothing. Her heart rate had picked up immensely at the thought of something happening to her best friend, and all she could think about is how she would absolutely ruin whoever hurt her. They’re practically signing a deal with the Devil the moment they touch someone Y/N cares for.

They had a general idea of where to drive to because most of Central was occupied by old and abandoned warehouses that mainly housed business meetings and transactions every now and then. Besides that there was the one strip of bars and restaurants right in the middle of Central. Best bet was whatever was happening, was happening in that strip over some pathetic drunken fight. Although that wouldn’t make sense if it was some drunk fight, because Flo would never sound so shaky over drunk people.

Then they saw it.

In the street along the strip, a group of people surrounding others, guns in their hands to keep them on their knees, beneath them as if they were gods. And among the people kneeling was one who was lying on their side, and Y/N could recognize that blonde pixie cut from anywhere.

And then she was seeing red.

Everyone turned to the headlights of the car that was beaming at them, their guns immediately raised and ready to start shooting. Harry and Y/N exited the car with hands raised, knowing not to come off as a threat and risk their lives or the lives of anyone else. Even though it was tempting to go at them because it had been awhile since Y/N got her hands dirty, it was best she kept her cool.

When all of their eyes adjusted to see who was walking towards them, some of them took a breath of relief dropping the aim of their guns before remembering what they were doing in the first place before aiming it back at the group on the floor. Y/N’s eyes quickly scanned over who she was dealing with, not instantly recognizing anybody nor feeling intimidated by any of them. Quickly turning her eyes to Harry, she saw that his jaw was set in a tight clench as his eyebrows furrowed in anger, giving her the feeling she knew who these people were.

When they walked close enough, one spoke up, demanding them to stop where they were, and the way he slurred his words, it didn’t take an idiot to figure out he was plastered beyond comprehension. “Look who decided t’finally show up,” he snarled.

“Pat, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Harry growled, dropping his hands down to his sides as his hands balled into fists.

“Could be asking ya the same thing, mate. Last time I checked, we swore on our lives to be the enemy to her yet here you are showing up in the same fucking car. You get one taste of pussy and you suddenly become one,” this Pat guy laughed, swinging his gun around as if it were some toy.

Y/N couldn’t visually recognize Pat, but from the times her and Harry talked about business and who worked with them, she can recall the name Pat being thrown around and from what she could gather, Pat was pretty fucking important on Harry’s side. Guess it didn’t matter anymore because if Y/N knew Harry at all, he had a zero tolerance rate for anyone who goes against his word, and by tomorrow morning, this guy was going to be erased as if he never existed.

And if they weren’t in such a compromising situation right now, the idea of Harry holding such power would turn her on immensely.

Well, it is turning her on immensely she just can’t exactly act out on those feelings at the moment.

Before Harry could get another word in, Y/N stepped closer, gaining everyone to avert their attention to her, a few clicks of their guns to ensure that they were ready to be fired at any given moment. It didn’t phase her though, she was used to that sound more so than she’d like to admit. “You have five seconds to explain why you ruined my night before I ruin yours.”

Then someone that wasn’t Pat stepped closer to her, the nozzle of their pistol now pressed firmly into her temple, keeping her head forward. In her peripheral she could see the pale skin of the guy stretch upward into an open mouthed smirk, and it was then she could smell the overbearing stench of whiskey that masked him.

God, did he fucking bathe in it?

“As your boss, Pat, I’m telling you to save whatever dignity you have left and put down the guns–”

“And as your enemy, Pat, I’m telling you to put down the guns before you make any more regretful decisions.”

“And what the fuck are you gonna do abou’ it?” He laughed, genuinely laughed knees buckling a little as the alcohol consumed his inability to stop laughing. Practically everyone cocked their heads to the side to wonder what was actually so funny, eyes looking around to see if anyone else was laughing.

Nobody was.

Then, all in just a matter of seconds, Y/N stomped on the person’s foot beside her, heel of her boot digging into the toes of his, a high-pitched yelp of shock leaving his lips as she used her arm to knock the gun out of his hand before catching it in her own and smashing the butt of it into his nose, immediately a waterfall of blood gushing down his face and onto his clothes and onto the cement below them. He kneeled over in pain, a scream of anguish sounding in the air as she brought her knee up and into his forehead which knocked him backyard, his body collapsing to the ground in a heap of blood and cries.

That shut Pat up.

His hazy eyes widened in fear and nobody else knew what to do as they swayed from intoxication and cowered in fright. At this point, everyone that was once kneeling on the ground had managed to scurry themselves behind the two demanding forces, because that’s just how dumb these guys were. It made Y/N wonder how the fuck Flo was unconscious–

Right, Flo was unconscious.

Tracing her hand over the sleek black metal of the pistol, Y/N pulled back the slide, aiming the gun right between Pat’s puny little eyes, finger resting very close to the trigger. “Your five seconds are up.”

“Wait!” He pleas, eyes wide with desperation, voice laced with worry as the cool metal pressed against his forehead. “He told me to do it!” He shouted, hand pointing at Harry with a furious nod of his head.

Y/N’s eyes snapped to Harry who looked as confused as ever, but the way his hands rested on his hips and the way his lips were rolled into his mouth, there was some truth, or maybe all of it was true. “What’s he talking about?”

Harry sighed, looking down to his shoes in defeat which made Y/N all the more angrier. Harry pinched his eyes shut, then brought his line of vision to his girl. His girl that he couldn’t imagine wanting to hurt anymore. Yet the past always wanted to come back to bite him in the ass.

“Listen–”

“I’m telling the truth, you gotta believe me! It was all his idea I swear it!” Pat panicked beside Y/N, hands clasping together in a pleading motion, and when she looked to him, she could see the faint moisture buildup in his eyes.

There was a lot happening all at once, yet it also felt like nothing was going on at all. There was the claim Harry set this up yet in the thirty seconds it's been floating around in the air, there’s been no jump to deny it or explain it. And Y/N was feeling a whole lot of everything, and she would appreciate it if something could be explained so she could focus all of her energy on one emotion. And at this rate, anger seemed to nestle itself nice and snug inside her veins.

She’s seen Harry change over the course of the past three months. Honestly, she has, and she knows that deep in her heart he wouldn’t put their blossoming relationship at risk anymore; But something was also telling her this was exactly something he would do. He would use her just to get what he wants, and that’s all of the power. The power to be the sole King of the city.

And that broke her just a little bit.

Harry hasn’t made a move to say anything again, and that didn’t settle well with Y/N. Turning back to Pat, she kicked the shin of his left leg, knocking him down to the floor, keeping the gun against his skin, looking down at him with her nicest smile, hissing out, “Tell me the truth. All of it.”

He gulped, eyes bouncing between the two mafia leaders, before he kept his twitching gaze on Y/N. “He w-wanted to start a war. It’s been his plan for months – to end what his grandfather started and… take you down. Starting with her,” his head gesturing to the girl that still lay unconscious atop the cement.

Then the stressed look left Pat’s eyes, and his original smirk settled back on his greasy skin. “Did you think he actually liked you? Cared for you? … You said it yourself, you’re the enemy.”

“Y/N…” she heard him step closer, his fancy shoes scuffing across the ground. Y/N cringed at the idea of him being closer, so without really thinking about it, Y/N bashed the butt of the gun into Pat’s head, knocking him out, now having it aimed at the guy who’s managed to hold her heart in his hands and then crush it.

She shouldn’t be surprised and she will listen to what he has to say, but this didn’t change the fact that he wanted a war. There was always the tension that a war was bound to happen just to keep everyone on their toes, but Y/N never had the intention to actually start one unless necessary. She figured he thought the same because war meant a lot of unnecessary deaths were bound to happen and a lot of clean up and resituating the city that no one had time for.

Guess she was wrong.

“I would say I’m shocked… I’m not,” Y/N shrugged, looking at the gun in her hand before dropping it to the floor. Even if he wanted to hurt her, she couldn’t do that to him. Not now, not after everything they’ve worked for.

“I said it a year ago when I was drunk off my mind in a brief conversation! I wasn’t going to act on it, c’mon you know this, you know me,” he scoffed, hands never leaving the comfort of his hips. He stood as if he were her father scolding her for something ridiculous, and maybe she was overreacting a little over everything, but she didn’t take shit from her father and she wasn’t going to take shit from him.

“Regardless, your people hurt mine and that goes against the biggest rule of conduct. Fix your shit and get your own ride home,” she rolled her eyes, stepping over the body of the first guy who was still cradling his broken nose in his hands.

Y/N made her way to Flo, gently touching her to see if she would wake within the next few moments. From the way her lip was busted, the small bruise forming under her eye, and the blood drying in her hair, Y/N could tell she didn’t go down easy and she needed to get her out of here as quickly as possible to make sure she didn’t suffer from any long term damage. When she noticed her friend stir a little, eyes squinting open as she moaned in pain, hand flying up to caress her aching head, Y/N went to help her up, helping her walk to her car parked down the road.

Y/N didn’t know how to feel. She really didn’t. She couldn’t be mad at Harry for saying something when he was drunk, because God knows the amount of things she’s said when she her blood was replaced with vodka, so it would be wrong to be a hypocrite. But she can’t trust that one time a year ago was the only time he discussed it. If it were something that was mentioned once on a whim, there would be no way Pat and his men would do something like this without some sort of order. None of it made sense and the more Y/N tried to think about it, the worse her headache got.

But the one bit she couldn’t stop her mind from reeling over and over again, like it was a broken record. Did you think he actually liked you? Cared for you? … You said it yourself, you’re the enemy.

Y/N never, ever got herself into relationships. She didn’t want one, wish for one, crave for one because with her lifestyle, it’d be difficult to keep up with. It wasn’t in her cards and for all of her life she was fine with that. But now that she got that taste of one, taste of something that resembled something of a relationship, she didn’t want to give it up. But did he like her? Or was it all some sort of show just so he could rip the rug right out from under her feet?

This was exactly why she didn’t do relationships. Because now she was getting too much into her own head and didn’t know what to believe anymore. And she would be damned if out of everybody on this fucking planet it would be him to break her heart.

When Harry saw her car speed away, he knew he fucked up. He felt something pang in his chest, in his heart when he saw her cold eyes for the last time. When she said she wasn’t shocked, her eyes looked bewildered yet defeated all at once and for Harry to know he was the cause hurt him. He was used to her being angry at him, it was practically how they lived their lives, but over the past three months, every time their eyes locked, he saw something else hidden behind them, flashing across them, dancing over them, like admiration and adoration. He would give anything to get that look back instead of the icy glare.

Picking up the gun that she dropped, a fit of rage washed over him as he realized he now had to deal with this group of idiots before him. They all looked as if they were going to shit their pants, and rightfully so because they knew what happened when anyone crossed him.

They get a bullet in their skull.

Maybe everything wasn’t so different after all.

❊ ❊

Moments passed by.

Silence.

Seconds passed by.

Nothing.

Minutes passed by.

Not a word was said.

They sat in gruelling quietude, neither of them jumping to break the tension.

It had been a month since they saw each other. That was mainly due to the fact they both had over inflated egos and didn’t want to be the first to cave. She was mad at him and felt it was necessary for him to want to contact her first because he was the one who had some serious explaining to do. And he did try to talk to her. He called her at least ten times a day for the first week, which she declined all of them. So, then he was angry and gave up and didn’t want to beat his already bruised narcissism. Then, when he didn’t call her again, she got even more angry that he didn’t want to try harder for her. So they ignored each other for three weeks after that. And when the silence became too overwhelming, Y/N decided to give him a call back, so it would seem she was taking the higher road and was the better person.

Then he ignored her.

It was all a competition, and it always would be between the two. Even when they didn’t really mean to make things so complicated, there was that underlying rivalry creeping back into their lives. Maybe it would never go away, and that’s okay because being rivalrous was their chivalry, and that’s what drew them together as partners both business and pleasure.

Eventually, they put their differences aside - or rather their similarities, and they finally discussed a time and place for when they should meet and actually talk about things. And they decided on a public restaurant to make sure they wouldn’t cause too much of a scene. Not that that’s ever really stopped them before but it was worth a try.

But, again, it was a battle of who would open their mouth first. This never ending cycle was kind of sickening, but it was also a little funny. They were laughing on the inside, but on the outside they could kill someone with their dirty looks. The poor waiter that had come over recognized who they were instantly and was already nervous from the get-go, but when he saw how miserable and angry they both looked, he was near shitting his pants. When he saw Harry send him a grimace at his presence when he approached the table, he wanted to cry. And if Y/N wanted to lose and break the silence first, she would’ve scolded Harry for being so rude to someone just doing his job.

But she wanted to win, so she kept her trap shut.

Of course, though, they both tied when they spoke the first time, at the same time. If being mad at one another wasn’t angering enough, but to both speak at the exact moment so neither could have the title of being winner or loser was near infuriating.

“I’m not mad y’know-”

“Look, I’m sorry-”

At her words, Harry looked a little perplexed, head tilted in confusion at her confession, a million thoughts now running through his head. If she wasn’t mad, what was with the silent treatment? What was with the icy look before she left him that shot right through his heart? He knows he deserved it so how could she not be angry? If the roles were reversed, Harry would expect a decent apology and to be honest, he’d probably, but he’d never forget.

Maybe that’s why he liked her so much. She amazed him in so many ways because no matter how similar they were, they did also have their differences. One of them being that Y/N would inevitably always be the nicer one out of the two. She had the reputation of being the nice boss. People preferred living on her side of the city a lot more than they did his, so even though it used to be illegal to move to the other side, people always found a way to emigrate. And right now, that much was clear that she’s a better person than him by a landslide. Harry would always admire that about her and could only wish that he matched her.

Taking a sip of his wine, he licked his lips in thought, gesturing for her to continue with her previous statement. Ladies first, after all. And even though she felt it was really his job to do a lot of the talking now, she was going to let it slide. “I did a lot of thinking this… break. I was mad at first, I’ll admit. Thinking after everything we’ve worked through for you to go behind my back and want to hurt me, well, hurt me and I hated that I let myself get to the point where you were able to hurt me. I was mad that I didn’t see it coming yet at the same time I did see it coming and didn’t do anything to prevent it. I was mad that my best friend got hurt because of you and it took everything in me not to put you in the same state she was in.

But, I realized that what I was feeling wasn’t anger, but… pain. What Pat said about you not actually liking me didn’t settle well with me at all and I got a little too into my head, thinking he was probably right and I’m the biggest fucking fool there is. Then I did more thinking and realized he’s fucking wrong. You’re not the same disgusting person I’ve known all my life after these past months, and I know you like me. You like me so much and I know that because I like you so much. So, long story short, I’m not mad. But, Flo is, so you better fucking apolgize to her,” Y/N concluded, reaching for her dry martini, finishing off the remaining droplets of it, observing Harry as he sat very stunned from her rambling session.

That was a lot more to take in than he anticipated.

At least she wasn’t angry. But he still had some apologizing to do and wouldn’t stop until she knew how sorry he was. She was right, he did like her a lot and he needed to fix this to the best of his abilities, because he wants her in his life liking or loving him rather hating him. What a sap he’s become.

“I will, I promise. I never intended for that to happen and I know with our past it doesn’t seem too far off, but I could never do something like that now. I was drunk when I first mentioned it, but I’ll admit the idea of a war had been brought up on a few more occasions past that. But when we first agreed to merge together, I made it very clear to my team that any previous ideas were to be thrown out because this was the new plan, and the plan I intend on sticking to. I don’t know why Pat did what he did, and it pisses me off to no end that he did it.” Taking a breath, Harry took a moment to gather his next thoughts, leaning forward on the table between them, green eyes never leaving hers.

“I know you said you don’t believe what he said, but I’m telling you myself, just to clarify your thoughts, that it wasn’t true. You’re not my enemy… anymore and I want you in my life. What we have is good and I don’t want to risk losing it. So even if you’re not mad, will you please forgive me?”

Y/N has to refrain from smiling brightly, biting her lip to conceal her laughter. The way he still wanted to apologize even if she declared he didn’t really need to, and the way his mouth formed itself into a small pout as he awaited her forgiveness was too cute to not want to smile at. She wanted to pinch his cheeks like a mother to her child and coo at him with all of the love in the world. Not hating him felt so nice and like such a relief that she couldn’t even comprehend how they lasted that long in the first place. Over the months she got to know him a lot better than she used to, and he’s one of the biggest dorks she’d ever meet, so not liking him simply didn’t feel like an option anymore.

Nodding her head softly, Y/N leaned across the table to capture his lips in a soft and quick kiss, ensuring that they’re back on good terms. Harry couldn’t hide the smile that flashed across his skin.

“Now that that’s settled, you’re paying,” she motioned at the checkbook that was just placed between them. He rolled her eyes at her before picking it up to read the total and reaching into his pocket to pull out his money.

They both stood up, pushing in their chairs and exited the restaurant practically different people from who walked in. They didn’t hold hands walking to their cars because that was just a little out of their comfort zones, but they did walk in step, arms brushing against one another as they kept stealing fast glances at one another through their sunglasses.

Stopping in front of her car, they stood chest to chest, goofy smiles planted on their faces that hardly seemed like they were leaving. Then of course Harry had to ruin the cute moment. “Now that that’s over, do ya think you can finish that heavenly blowie? M’practically itching to feel the back of your throat again.”

“Shouldn’t you be the one trying to please me?” She quipped, digging into your purse to get out your keys.

“You’re right, I’m also itching to feel you on my tongue. Sixty-nine?”

Somehow, that’s exactly where they ended up. On her king-sized bed, Harry’s cock down her throat again, her nose brushing against the taut skin of his balls, her dripping cunt resting over his face as he devoured her like she were his last meal.

Crazy how a day could change so quickly.

She gagged as his hips involuntarily thrusted upward into her velvet warm mouth, tears springing to her eyes causing her to rest her hand on his thighs and give herself a moment to breathe. He ushered a quick mewl of an apology, aching to get her back on him, his release impending. He knew she was sensitive and he tried his hardest not to rock his hips harder and more frequently, but when she was moaning around him, sending vibrations up his spine because his tongue delved into her pulsating core, he found it very difficult.

Dabbing at her eyes with her fingers, she took her hair and wrapped it around her fist to keep it out of her as she pushed herself as far down as she could on him. Harry let out a moan similar to that of a pornstar as she bobbed her head faster, his tip constantly pushing against her soft throat, which shook Y/N and had her thighs clenching around his head fiercely when she felt the familiar coil in her stomach begin to churn.

Harry removed one of his hands from the soft skin of her ass, admiring the nail and handprints he’d left in his wake before he took his thumb and focused rubbing fast circles on her clit while his tongue continued to lap up her juices and plunge into her sopping wet entrance. At the attention of her bud, Y/N was a mess, her work on Harry becoming a lot sloppier, saliva trailing down the sides of her mouth and onto her chin, dripping to his balls and onto the sheets below him. Harry could feel her spit travel from her mouth and onto him, and the vision of her mouth stuffed completely of his cock had him twitching in her mouth and he wanted nothing more than to cum in her mouth and for her to come in his.

Removing himself for a moment so he could speak, he placed kisses along her pussy and thighs, words coming out after the smack of his lips to skin. “M’close baby… gonna cum in deep in your mouth – fuck, I know you’re close too… c’mon, princess, cum for me. Want you to soak my face, have your honey, shit – dripping down my chin.”

He always had a way with words.

Holding his balls in her hand and softly tugging on them and massaging them, without using actual words she was also encouraging him to cum down her throat, wanting to swallow every drop he had to offer. She wasn’t going to put all this work in for nothing.

And because these two were so insync these days and never letting the other come out as superior, they both managed to reach their climaxes at the same time. Ropes of his release flew down Y/N’s throat, and wave after wave of pleasure seeped onto Harry’s face, and both wouldn’t want it any other way.

Removing Harry from her mouth and moving her body off his, they both took a moment to breathe, never being so grateful to get a taste of fresh air. But before they relaxed too much, they busied themselves into a good old fashion make out session, enjoying the taste of themselves on each other’s tongue. Y/N separated their mouths to lick up the remnants of her on his chin, this having Harry’s cock practically shoot right back up.

Harry sat up against the headboard of her bed, situating themselves so Y/N was sat in his lap, her slit slowly guiding up and down against his shaft, quickening his recovery period.

“You’re not too exhausted, hm? Need you to fuck me good, H,” she murmured against the skin of his neck, biting on the flesh, planning to make it very evident that no one else had the privilege of touching him again.

He had the same thought process, except he didn’t care about other people, rather wanting to leave marks on her skin so she would remember who put them there and who would be the only one to put them there. Her poor ass was bright red as he kept grabbing and slapping at the battered skin, but he didn’t care. If she couldn’t sit, oh well.

He gripped her hips, forcing her downward to grind against his growing erection, giving her her answer. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t feel his prick nestle into her tight walls after this month of separation. Her pretty pussy is all he can think about these days and if he could keep himself inside of it forever, he would. So, yeah, he’s gonna fuck her good, with a hint of love making because he wants her to know that he’s hers for as long as she’ll have him.

“I’m nowhere near finished,” he replied, bending his head down, latching his mouth around her pert nipple, tugging on it with his teeth as his other hand reached for her other and pulled on it between his fingertips.

He took his time on her tits, paying equal attention to each nipple, swirling his tongue around them, lightly sucking and pinching, all of which was making her moan quietly into the otherwise silent atmosphere.

She kept the slow grind of her clit on his mound going, knocking her head back as she was in euphoria as he continued his assault on every inch of her body. She wrapped her fingers into his curly hair, tugging on the roots like he likes, his moans reverberating on her chest, hitting against her heart that pounded against its cage.

Removing himself with a pop, he smiled up at her with a boyish grin, reaching both hands up to squeeze her tits, pushing them together, imagining himself fucking them now, her chest slippery with spit and precum as he slid between her slowly, enjoying every second of it.

But he’d save that for another time.

“Gonna ride me, love? Can you do that f’me?”

She didn’t exactly want to, because even though she asked him if he was tired, she was a bit exhausted herself. She would certainly try to ride him, bounce on his dick with all of the power she has in her, but she couldn’t count on having energy forever. And something told her he wanted her doing all of the work all the way through.

Y/N wasn’t a pansy though, so she nodded her head and lifted herself onto her knees, feeling him bob up and his head hit against her moisture. Reaching down and taking ahold of his member, she tortuously moved him between her folds before sinking down on him, inch by inch, savoring the moment of connection.

They groaned in unison, electric pleasure shooting up both of their spines as he stretched and filled her to the brink. It took her a moment to fully adjust to his size before she rolled her hips forward, her spongy walls sucking him in.

Harry wrapped his hand in her hair, pulling her head back so her throat was on full display, peppering hot kisses along the skin. “Feel so good, baby. Your cunt was made for me. Tha’s it, fucking bounce on me, get that ass moving.”

She whimpered at his words, mouth falling open as her eyes rolled back the moment she felt him hit that spongy spot inside of her over and over again. Harry couldn’t resist resting his thumb on her tongue, and she couldn’t resist closing around it, sucking on it like a baby. Her tongue circled around it, gently biting on it that had him slapping her ass in response. Y/N cried at the impact, which also had her sinking down on him a lot quicker.

“Faster, Y/N. Act like you’re mad at me… ruin me, c'mon know you got it in ya,” he growled, taking his hand away from her face and gripping her hips again, thrusting up into her harshly to egg her on. He bent his knees which lulled her body closer to his, the angle pushing him a little deeper inside her walls.

Sweat coated their bodies as she worked herself to a faster pace, her hands resting on the headboard behind him. Her clit rubbed against his tuft of hair, sending her into a frenzy as her orgasm approached a lot quicker than before. She would be done for soon but she needed to make sure he wasn’t so far behind, and when she clenched down on him, hearing his whine of delight let her know it wouldn’t be long until he was coming undone.

“Harry… oh my God Harry.”

“We’re almost there, keep going. Harder, Y/N, you can do it.”

“Har–” She cut herself off the moment his hand wrapped her throat, lightly squeezing and causing her to now have to work for her air.

She crossed the finish line. She couldn’t help it as her orgasm suddenly shocked through her body, her thighs clenching and twitching around his, her hands holding onto his shoulders with a tight grip. She rode it out, crying at the sensitivity of her clit as she continued to sink onto him, waiting for him to follow.

Because she came, she felt this sudden wave of extreme fatigue, hardly finding the energy to keep herself upright at the moment and Harry noticed this. So, he pushed her body backwards so her back hit the soft material of her comforter, and now he put the effort in and pounded into her at a furious pace. His hand didn’t leave her throat and because he was a cocky son of a bitch, he attached his thumb to her hypersensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing a third orgasm out of her.

Y/N was crying at the sensation, her legs trembling as she released again, his cock completely coated in her wetness, the sound of their connecting genitalia heightening at the increased moisture between them. Admiring how much of a mess she looked beneath him, her hair a scattered mess, throat and chest littered in love bites, thighs and ass bright red and bruising like a peach, he decided why not add to the collection.

Pulling out of her, much to his dismay, he pumped himself a few times in his hand before he let out his second round all over her thighs, pussy, stomach and chest.

He was satisfied to say the least.

Both of their chests were heaving, their breathing patterns working oppositely, she breathing in and he breathing out. Harry laid himself down beside her, eyes drooping closed in utter contentment, a smile dashing across his face as he and his girl lay completely worn out.

“I need… to get cleaned… but too… tired*,” Y/N murmured in a pant, not finding the energy to wipe off his cum that littered her entire body.

“I quite like the way you look,” he started, flipping to his side and caressing her soft cheek under his palm.

“All fucked out, and all because of me.”

[puckinghell]

All Over You | Elias Pettersson

Summary: Elias had his chance with you, and he messed it up. But the idea that you might be over him? That’s more than he can handle.  Words: 3.8k Note: I wrote this in a drunken haze of sleep deprived creativity brought on by a country song. Please ignore any errors, I couldn’t be bothered to proofread. 

---

Elias’ eyes are following you across the room. 

The beer in his hands is still full and lukewarm, by now. He hadn’t really even wanted it, but Brock had pressed it into his hands.

“Get that scowl off your face, bud,” he’d grinned, and then scurried off. Maybe he’d noticed that his typical, happy go lucky Brock demeanor was too much for Elias to deal with tonight. 

This bar, the bar that his teammates dragged him to, is the same place you and him used to go all the time. He likes the lowkey vibe, the fact that there rarely seemed to be any hockey fans there - or at least none that would disturb him - and you like the music that gets played there and the fact that they have your favorite cider brand. 

You were never much of a beer fan, and Elias watches with heavy eyes as you take a sip of your cider, now, and laugh at something the guy says. 

Something ugly curls in the pit of his stomach.

The thing is, Elias knows he has no right to be jealous right now, but as he watches you laugh and talk to this random guy, jealousy is definitely what he’s feeling. 

He spotted you the moment he walked in. You were already at the bar, and Elias made sure to stick himself in a corner, not going anywhere near you.

He thinks it worked; it doesn’t seem like you’ve seen him, yet, and he’s planning on keeping it that way. 

He lost the right to your attention. 

It’s Bo, unsurprisingly, that sits down next to Elias. He puts a glass of coke on the table. 

“Go home,” he says softly. There’s a tinge of worry in his voice, and Elias hates it, because he knows he doesn’t deserve to be worried about. But Bo has grown into his captain role beautifully, so Elias should’ve expected him to notice. 

“I’m fine here,” he says, but his voice sounds flat. He tries again. “It’s just, you know...”

“Y/N is here,” Bo finishes for him. “And you don’t want her to see you.” Elias supposes he’s easier to read than he thought. That, or Bo knows him better than he thought.

“I don’t want to see her, with him, either.” Elias grits his teeth. It’s not the kind of truth he would normally blurt out like that; normally it’s only Brock and Quinn that he confides in like that.

Brock because he makes everything seem less catastrophic with his everlasting optimism and his easy grin, and Quinn because he usually doesn’t really say anything at all, except maybe “sucks, bro” and sometimes that’s nice to hear, because some things really do suck. 

But Bo is here, and Elias is not in the best place, so the words just kinda tumble out. 

“It’s funny, how these things happen,” he says. “Joke’s on me, I guess.”

“Nobody is laughing, Petey.” Bo gives him a sympathetic look. “You look like you want to punch something, and it’s scaring Tuna.”

Elias dares to look away from your figure, for one second, to find Jake. Jake is staring back at him with big eyes, but averts his gaze when Elias catches him looking.

He sighs. “I don’t hate her, you know.” 

“I didn’t think you did.” Bo’s statement is bland but full of all the things he’s not saying. Elias has a distinct feeling Bo knows exactly what Elias hates.

Hates that he’s basically a stranger to you, now, that he can’t go up to you and wrap his arms around your waist, that he can’t say something to make you laugh. He hates that you’re dancing with him, with that guy, and not with Elias. 

He never liked dancing, but he usually let you drag him along anyway, just to see the way your face would light up when he did. 

“You could go over there,” Bo tries, carefully. “Say hi.” 

I wouldn’t survive the look of disdain in her eyes, is what Elias thinks. 

“I don’t wanna make it weird for her,” is what he says. 

“Why would it be weird?” 

Elias laughs, but it’s bitter, with not even a hint of humor in his eyes. He takes a swig of the coke, then slams it down on the table hard enough that a little bit slushes over the edge. The bubbles pop once they hit the wood. 

“Because I might say something I regret.” 

“Like?” Bo prompts.

Like I miss you. I’m sorry. I wish I’d never left. 

“I’m gonna go home,” Elias says, and he doesn’t wait to see the look of pity on Bo’s face before storming out of the bar and ordering an Uber.

He also doesn’t see you watching him leave.

--

6 weeks earlier, you’d been sitting on a chair on Elias’ balcony, a blanket over your legs and a glass of wine in your hands.

It was late enough at night that the streets of Vancouver had gone quiet, and Elias’ eyes were half closed as he leaned his head against the wall.

It was peaceful, everything about it. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; you’d just spent the night with Jake and his girlfriend, so you both needed some quiet. 

It wasn’t warm, per se, not this time of year, but you always loved the fresh air and it wasn’t too cold either. 

Elias’ cheeks were red from the fresh outside air, and he seemed perfectly content, like that.

It wasn’t the first time you looked at your best friend a different way, but you couldn’t remember it ever being this intense before. Like, you looked at him sometimes and thought; wow, he’s really hot, or, wow, he always makes me laugh, or even wow, I want to kiss him right now.

But up until that night, you’d never thought: wow, I love him. 

Strangely enough, the thought didn’t scare you as much as it, in hindsight, definitely should’ve. Maybe because you’d known Elias for almost a year, and you liked to believe you knew him quite well.

There had been moments, you thought, where you could’ve sworn he felt it too. That undeniable, invisible cord between you, pulling you towards each other. The way the air got charged with something, when your eyes met. 

It sounded cliche, you knew that, but in some ways you thought you’d always known it would end up like this. 

Which is why it was such a shock that it ended the way it did.

You can barely remember, now, how exactly it happened. You think your mind blocked out the memory, somewhere between crying your eyes out into your pillow and crying your eyes out on the phone to your sister. Some kind of protective mechanism, probably.

You remember something, though. You don’t think you’re ever going to be able to forget the look on Elias’ face, when you told him you loved him as more than a friend. 

No neurologic protective power big enough in the world to get that memory out of your mind.

He’d looked... Shocked, kinda. Like he’d never thought of you that way. But there had been something else there. Something that hit you way harder, hurt so much more. 

Disbelief.

How could you dare to love him. 

Not to get you wrong; you know Elias isn’t arrogant. He doesn’t think he’s the Canucks’ savior, he doesn’t belief he’s better than anyone. You’ve not been able to put your finger on why he looked like that, although not for lack of trying - you’ve lost nights and nights of sleep over it, but still, you don’t understand.

He looked shocked, upset, and he looked unhappy.

And that’s something you don’t think you’re ever going to get over. 

He left, after that, ran away from the balcony like the devil himself was chasing him, hid in his bedroom, and then you never heard from him again.

No texts, no calls, no house visits. Not even an Instagram DM saying, “hey there, it was fun to be friends until you decided to be a creep, see ya never".

Nothing. 

And you’d been too ashamed to reach out, so that meant there had just been silence. 

Before this, you never thought silence could be quite this loud. 

--

Elias can’t sleep.

That shouldn’t be surprising, after tonight. His body is still reeled up with adrenaline.

He would never fight the guy you were with, cause he could see that he made you happy, and there’s not a scenario in which he would choose to ruin that for you.

But God, would he have loved to just. Do something. Make him disappear, and preferably, put his own body in that place.

The place of the guy that makes you happy. 

Tonight just really drove the point home that you’re over him. Elias had his chance, messed it up, and you moved on. He can’t blame you for that, he just wishes he could do the same.

He doesn’t think he’s ever going to be over you. 

The thing is, when you told Elias you loved him, he was mostly just in shock. You’d been one of his closest friends, and he would trust you with his life. He told you everything and he knew you did the same.

He knew he loved making you laugh, he loved being there for you when you needed something, he loved talking to you so much he stayed up all night even after a game, he loved seeing you in his jersey, he loved...

He loved being around you. 

He just hadn’t really noticed he had started to love you. 

When you said it, he hadn’t known what to say. A thousand words had entered his brain and then left within a split second. None of them seemed to make it to his mouth; not in English, not in Swedish, not in any language. 

He remembers the way your face fell, and you turned your gaze to the ground. How you’d looked so uncomfortable, so upset. 

He thought the best thing to do would be to leave, until he got himself together enough to speak to you, to make actual words and force them out of his throat. 

He hid in his bedroom, paced around in circles for ten minutes; all that time, it was like he was looking through a kaleidoscope of memories, of you and him.

He knew, when he left that room, that he loved you too, and he was planning on telling you that.

But you were gone.

He didn’t know, and doesn’t know, still, whether you left because he reacted like a jerk and didn’t say anything, or because you changed your mind. 

He waited, for you to call, or text him. To call him out or to act like nothing ever happened. 

You didn’t call.

And he didn’t call, either, figured it wasn’t welcome. Still wasn’t even really sure what to say, maybe. He didn’t call, but every time he didn’t, he almost did, and now he’s sitting on his couch staring at his phone and wondering if that guy that made you smile and laugh in the bar calls you every day.

He feels sick to his stomach, and he didn’t even drink anything.

--

At 3am at night, Elias really isn’t expecting a knock on his door, but when there is one, he figures it’s Brock, or Jake, maybe even Quinn, who got drunk and got lost.

It wouldn’t be the first time Brock showed up at his door drunk because he was lonely and wanted to cuddle. 

At 3am at night - and really any time - Elias would not expect a knock on his door and upon opening it, to be faced with you. 

“How dare you,” you snarl, pushing past him without giving him a chance to say anything. 

Elias raises an eyebrow; he would ask you what you’re doing here, but that feels too normal; like the type of thing he would ask before you were no longer friends.

“I saw you, you know,” you continue. You’re not yelling, but it’s a close thing; Elias hears the anger in your voice, can’t quite decide whether he’s happy you’re talking to him or unhappy because you’re looking at him the same way one might look at a dead snail. 

“Saw me?” he repeats, a little dumbly.

“At the bar, Elias!” You step away from him, throw your hands up in the air. “I fucking saw you at the bar! And if I hadn’t seen you, I would’ve seen all of your other teammates! 10 hockey players don’t walk into a bar unnoticed, you idiot. So what am I supposed to do?” 

A silence falls, like you’re actually expecting Elias to answer that. 

He would, he would do anything you wanted him to, but he has no idea what you’re wanting to hear.

“What are you doing with what?” he tries, carefully.

You laugh, but it’s clear that you don’t find anything funny. “What am I supposed to do when we see each other in public? Am I ignoring you? Saying hi and moving on? Running away?” You pause. “Or is running away something only you are allowed to do?” 

“That’s not fair,” Elias says, a little quietly. It probably is fair, but it still stings. “I left to make it better for you. I didn’t want to ruin your night. Besides,” he adds, and now he sounds a little resentful, “you were all over that guy, and I didn’t wanna watch.” 

“All over that guy?” you repeat incredulous. “I wasn’t all over anything, Elias, I’m not even over you!” 

The words that Elias was meaning to say die on his lips, and suddenly there’s a distinct ringing sound in his ears, like he just took a puck to the head. 

Did you just say...

“All over... me?” he says softly, and something in your demeanor shifts at the quietness of his voice; the tension leaves your body and all your willingness to fight is just gone, sucked out of you like someone switched a light switch.

You sink down onto his couch and put your head in your hands.

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “I didn’t come here to say that.” 

I’m not usually this pathetic, is what you mean, but you don’t say that, because the truth is, you usually are this pathetic, at least when it comes to Elias. 

“What did you come here for?” Elias asks. The words could sound harsh, but they don’t. It’s only genuine curiosity that you hear in his voice.

Maybe, if you were being honest to yourself, you would even hear something like hope. But you wouldn’t dare believe that. 

“I don’t even know,” you tell him, and it’s the truth. “I just, my friend took me to that bar because she said I had to get over you at some point, and that guy was kinda nice and he reminded me of you because he has the same dry humor, and then I saw you and I thought...” You pause. “I thought I was dreaming.” 

You feel the couch dip under Elias’ weight as he sits down. He’s not sitting close enough that you can feel him, but somehow you can still feel his presence.

Something settles, within your stomach. Something that hasn’t been settled since that night on his balcony.

“But then you ran away like you couldn’t stand the sight of me, and it hurts, Elias, it hurts to know you feel like that, and suddenly I got so mad and...”

You cut yourself off. 

This is not the time, or the place, to put yourself through this, to lay it all out in the open like this. After all, Elias has made it clear he doesn’t want this from you, and you should accept that.

If you want even an ounce of dignity intact, you need to leave now, lick your wounds in peace, and get the fuck over it.

All over it. 

You stand up.

“Nevermind,” you tell him. “I’m sorry for coming here.” 

But before you can take a step towards the front door, to leave and never come back, Elias’ hand catches your wrist, slender fingers wrapped around you so tightly it nearly hurts.

It doesn’t, really. Not in comparison to how much your soul is hurting. 

“Elias,” you say, and you’re pleading, now, “please don’t.” 

It’s not a full sentence, but you think it covers the bases: please don’t make me say it, please don’t let me embarrass myself like this, please don’t break my heart again. 

Please don’t let me go.

“I’m sorry,” Elias says, and his voice is a little gruff, like it’s hard for him to speak. “I’m so sorry I left. Today, and last time. I know I don’t deserve it, but please... don’t leave.” 

You inhale sharply; these are words you hoped, but never expected to hear, and now that you’re hearing them, you don’t really know what to do with them. 

“Let me just say some things,” Elias continues, soft and careful, like he’s trying not to spook you. “Just sit, listen to me, and then if you want, you can leave and I’ll never bother you again.”

That’s, like, kinda the opposite of what you want, but you suppose you never really had a chance. Because you look back at Elias and his blue eyes are honest and pleading, so you nod curtly and sit back down on the couch.

You sit on the opposite end to Elias, and his hand falls away from your wrist, ends up on his own knee. 

Elias is looking at you intently, his blue eyes bright and focused. Under his gaze, it seems a little harder to breathe. 

You don’t know what you’re expecting him to say, but it’s not what comes out of his mouth next.

“You’re my best friend.” 

His voice is quiet, but firm. 

You frown. “Brock is your best friend.” 

Elias smiles a little sadly. He twists the string of his hoodie around his finger, then lets it fall again. 

It’s a sure tell that he’s nervous, which really sucks to notice, because you don’t think Elias has ever been nervous around you before.

“Maybe,” he says, “but so are you. In a different way, I think.” He pauses. “I didn’t realize that before. That it’s different with you.” 

“Elias, you’re not making a lot of sense right now,” you tell him, confused, and the sigh that escapes his lips is heavy. 

“I know,” he says, frustration lacing his voice, “I’m not good at talking. I don’t know... what to say, how to say. That’s why I didn’t say anything, that night.”

He doesn’t have to explain which night he’s talking about. 

You feel your cheeks flush at the mention of that night, and avert your gaze to stare at your hands, that are linked together laying limply in your lap. 

“Y/N,” Elias says softly, and there’s something vulnerable in his voice, “our friendship is different because yes, you’re one of my best friends, but that isn’t all I feel for you.” 

You risk it; you look up at him, and his eyes are big and sad when they lock with yours. 

“I didn’t realize it, when you said...” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t have to. You know what he means. “I didn’t realize it until I thought about it and suddenly it all made so much sense, it was all so clear... But then I came out and you were gone and I worried you changed your mind.” 

He inhales, then very slowly, oh so carefully, reaches out and puts one hand on yours, his hand warm and soft. 

You don’t really know what to say; you think Elias is trying to tell you he has feelings for you too, but after last time, you’re too scared to make any assumptions without him literally spelling it out for you. 

There’s something circling in your mind, one thought that means nothing else really matters.

“You left.” 

The silence is almost deafening, but you don’t fill it. You can see the wheels turning in Elias’ head, can see the shame on his face. 

“I’m really, really sorry,” he says, finally. “I think I freaked out. Like I said, I didn’t really realize what we had... Until I didn’t have you any more.” He sighs again. His fingers have tightened around yours, but you don’t know if he means to do it, or if it’s something subconscious, trying to keep you close to him. 

“These past weeks have really sucked,” he continues. “I thought you were over me, and I didn’t know what to do.” He smiles a bit wryly. “Words are not my strong point.” 

Your heart is beating in your chest, so loudly you can almost feel it in your ears. You think if Elias is quiet for a while, he might be able to hear it, too. 

There’s really no way you could misinterpret this, probably. But you’re not gonna be the one to make the first move.

That didn’t work out so well for you last time. 

Instead, you ask; “Show me?” 

Something flashes across Elias’ face, something heated and determined, and then suddenly he’s close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating off him. 

His lips are soft at first, almost hesitant, but when he notices you’re not pulling away, Elias’ kisses you more intently, swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and moves his hands to your hips, tugging softly.

You let him pull you against him. You don’t think you really ever had a chance to say no. 

The kiss makes you dizzy, but there’s still a voice nagging at you, somewhere in the back of your brain. And when Elias pulls back from you long enough to breathe, the thought somehow makes its way out of your mouth.

“Please don’t do this if you’re gonna run away again.” Your intake of breath is a little shaky. “I’m never going to get over you after this.” 

Elias laughs, and for the first time, it’s a genuine laugh, one that lights up something inside of you.

“I don’t want you to get over me,” he mumbles against your lips. “I was an idiot for giving you the chance to do that once. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

His hands move to your back, caressing the skin there.

“I love you,” he says, easily as ever. “I love you, and I’m never going to run away anywhere except if it’s after you.” 

You don’t think you could smile any wider if you tried. 

“I love you, too,” you say. The words feel a bit foreign on your lips, after six weeks of telling yourself to not think them. 

“Thank God,” Elias breathes, and then he’s kissing you again, and his hands seem to be everywhere at once, touching your skin and your face and your hair. 

His hands are all over you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[poisonedapples]

Lasting Impressions - Chapter One: Three Hours Before

Summary: Virgil makes a good friend at the weirdest time of day; four in the morning, where everyone and their dog is fast asleep. However, deciding to befriend that person ends up getting him into a lot more trouble than he could ever suspect. His new friend ended up going missing that same night. And Virgil was the last person to see him alive.

Chapter Warnings: Kidnapping, missing people, nightmares and anxiety, mentions of death, mentions of murder (regarding Disney characters), blood, mentions of drunkenness/alcohol, and swearing

Pairings: Familial Royality, platonic Prinxiety that still flirt with each other in this chapter

Word Count: 4,307

Notes: Heed the warnings, as this story (although not mentioned a lot in this chapter) will contain missing people, kidnapping, and its fair share of violence as we go along the story. Always read chapter triggers before you dive in, and if there’s a chapter or scene you can’t read, you can always DM me for a less graphic or trigger free version of it.

It was 3:51 AM when Virgil felt himself jolt awake in a cold sweat.

He frantically turned his bedside table lamp on, ignoring the pain of the blinding light on his adjusting eyes. It wasn’t often he got nightmares anymore, but God when he did, they were horrible. He could always barely remember what it was about; something with not being able to scream and a weird creature chasing him, but nothing more than that. Instead he was left to shake in his bed and attempt to breathe in for four seconds.

In for four...hold for seven- fuck, wait-...four...hold for seven…come on! In for four...sev- Are you fucking kidding me!?

Virgil jumped out of bed, ignoring the weakness in his legs and shakiness of his arms and threw on his hoodie and a pair of jeans. He only bothered with putting on a sports bra, instead of trying to breathe in his binder, then stuffed his phone in his pocket and walked out his bedroom door. He was careful not to slam it to not alert his roommate Elliott, instead quietly scooting himself to the front door of their apartment. Despite his haste, he double checked to make sure he locked the door before going down the apartment steps. Like always, Elliott would be none the wiser.

Virgil walked out to the front of the apartments and took a left down the block. His body was still shaking, but the fresh air always helped.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

...It’s gonna be another one of these days, isn’t it?

Virgil sighed. Anxiety was always the worst. Sometimes, all it took was for you to wake up in a certain mood and hope it was gone by the next day. He’d certainly gotten better over the years when it came to nightmares and having to run away at terrible times in the night, but disorders never completely went away. Not that he’d heard of, at least.

The air had a different feeling to it outside. Fall was cooling the atmosphere and giving Virgil a kind of contentment he could only reach in this time of year. Halloween decorations had filled store shelves before September ended, though none of those stores were open at this time in the early morning. Instead, Virgil walked down the street and occupied himself with looking at street lights and the occasional car passing by.

The very, very occasional car.

Virgil plucked his earbuds out of his hoodie pocket and plugged them into his phone, putting a random playlist on scramble to drown out the eerie silence. Everything was so quiet at this time. Usually in the city, the streets would be so noisy Virgil was more at risk of a sensory overload than being this kind of uneasy. In a way, walking alone in the dark was the worst way to recover from a nightmare, no matter how many times it became his solution. He felt watched.

...Shut up, no, don’t think like that. No panic attacks for you. Not in the middle of the damn street.

Virgil pressed his earbuds deeper into his ears, as if that could muffle his thoughts the same way it damaged his hearing.

At least the air was a nice change of pace. Fresh air always helped him when he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and now the chills in his body could be explained with a different reason. Even if it really wasn’t that cold outside.

Virgil felt the cold bring a sudden wind to the back of his feet. He almost jumped three feet in the air as his mind raced with thoughts of someone’s chasing you, but as he looked around, no one was there. 

He saw something move in the corner of his eye and jumped again. 

Virgil kept deathly still, like any sudden movement would bring this mysterious shadow to kill him. The only thing keeping him sane was the emo music blasting through his earbuds, the rest looking like something out of one of his horror movies.

He saw something in the corner of his eye again, shooting to look at the black blob right next to his foot. He took a sudden, sharp breath to stop himself from screaming such a sketchy time of night and darted his head around to find the source.

Underneath Virgil’s feet was a very offended looking squirrel. Before he could smack himself in the face for being an idiot, the creature scurried away and disappeared in a dark alleyway.

Virgil rubbed at his eyes. Jesus, he thought, I’m really on edge. It’s just a damn squirrel.

Still, Virgil turned around and walked faster until the alleyway was out of his sight. He sighed and attempted to calm himself down a little, but his chest still felt ready to burst from all the fear. He breathed in deeply, then out again.

His hands still shook, but it was okay.

Everything is alright.

He paused his speed walk long enough to continue his breathing patterns. He focused on the feeling of nighttime air instead of the what-ifs. He looked up to gaze at the dim stars, barely visible from so much light pollution, but still a soothing presence. With each time he counted a second of breathing in, he counted another star in the sky. The sight of twinkling lights with a bright moon in the sky was more than calming. It reminded him of the nights he’d spend on his parents roof, looking up and not bothering to think about what was down on Earth.

Up there, everything was quiet. Peaceful. There was no sound or responsibility. No student loans or nightmares, only emptiness with chunks of rock and gas. The chaos was too far away for you to really be bothered with it, you could watch from afar and be completely safe on your own floating rock. Out there, nothing mattered.

Virgil closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. Everything is quiet. Everything would be okay.

The peacefulness was all that really mattered.

“Why hello, handsome!”

“Fuck!”

Virgil’s whole body jolted like an electric shock when an unexpected hand touched his shoulder. He yanked his earbuds out and turned to his attacker with wide eyes, fully ready to fucking slice the dude.

The idiot only smiled and waved. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you so badly! Are you alright?”

Virgil blinked. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine, thanks.”

Before he could put his earbuds back in, the guy put both his hands on Virgil’s biceps and pulled his arms down. Virgil was fully ready to knock his teeth out and make a run for it, but before he could reel his arm back, he noticed blood and scratches all over the guy’s face.

Virgil did a double take at him long enough for the guy to get his damn hands off of him and smile. “I mean more than you being okay after I scared you. You seem to be quite on edge in general.”

Bitch, why do you care? “Well, it’s the asscrack of night, better be safe than sorry if you don’t wanna get murdered.”

He laughed. “Fair point, fair point. And what are you doing out at a time you call ‘the asscrack of night’, as you so elegantly worded it?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “How about it’s none of your business?”

The guy put his hand on his chest in feign offense. “So cruel to me! Here I was, trying to be a humble citizen and help you out, and this is the thanks I get?”

He rolled his eyes. “Get used to disappointment. The only reason I didn’t pummel you is because you look like a wreck.”

The guy put a hand to his face. “Is it the blood?”

“It’s definitely the blood.”

“Ugh, I suppose that’s what I get for trying to have a good time so late in the night! I’ll admit, I’m exhausted and also a little buzzed. So maybe trying to befriend a cat at 3 in the morning wasn’t my greatest idea.”

“It looks like that cat wanted to gut you alive.”

“... I’m not the best with animals.”

Virgil couldn’t help but roll his eyes and laugh. Something about a tipsy guy trying to flirt after being attacked by a cat was hilarious. “You sound like an idiot.”

“Just a little bit! But that’s what’s so endearing about me, I like to imagine.”

“You keep imagining then, Princey.”

The guy seemed to freeze in place. “... Princey?”

Virgil’s eyes widened, awkwardly coughing to try and play himself off as collected. Damnit Virgil, play it off! “Well I don’t know your name, and you sound like a spoiled, dramatic prince, so… You’re Princey now.”

The guy chuckled. Nailed it. “I guess that makes sense, I am very dramatic. But that’s just what makes me wonderful.”

“You tell yourself that.”

Virgil started to walk ahead of Princey, only for him to stumble over his feet to keep his pace with Virgil. At least he wasn’t too drunk, and he certainly didn’t seem harmless. Of course, Virgil hadn’t known him that long, but right now he just seemed like a major dork who wanted to talk to someone.

Relatable, honestly.

The guy kept his pace next to Virgil, though staying a reasonable distance away before standing up proudly and smiling again. “Though if you want to know my real name...it’s Roman. Roman Goldsberry.”

Virgil hummed. “S’up Roman. I’m not telling you my name, though.”

Roman gasped. “Why not!?”

“Because I’m not gonna make it that easy for you to find where I live and murder me.”

Roman shrugged and nodded his head. “Okay, fair. I guess.”

“Maybe if I meet you in a less sketchy place, I’ll consider telling you my name.”

“I suppose I’ll have to call you something else until then. Something that suits you.”

“Oh really? What do you think suits me?” Virgil asked.

“Something dark and brooding, maybe with a dash of paranoia. After all, that hoodie you have is quite the emo aesthetic.”

“You picked up my vibes pretty quickly there, damn.”

“I have many talents! Now, as for something to call you…” Roman seemed to think about it for a long time, “...I think I’ll call you Emo Nightmare!”

Virgil reeled. “...Thank you. Best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

Roman pouted like a toddler who dropped their candy. “Compliment!? Well now I can’t call you that! If you’re going to be so rude to me, then I should be able to be rude back!”

Virgil smirked, “Really now? Go ahead then, make a nickname that offends me.”

Roman seemed to think about it again, “Gerard Wayward?”

“Clever, but I don’t think you know what wayward means.”

“I’m only warming up! How about Brad Pitiful?”

“That one’s just funny.”

“Count Woelaf!”

“My feelings have yet to be hurt.”

“Surly Temple? JD-lightful? Incredible Sulk?”

“Literally where the fuck are you getting these?”

Roman put his hands on his hips. “I’m good at improv! Oh! What about Henry Ravens-brood?”

Virgil put an offended hand to his chest. “Now that one is mean. Congrats Princey, you just offended me.”

Roman clapped his hands together. “Fantastic! I knew I could- wait...you know Phantom Manor?”

Virgil shrugged. “What can I say, I’m a Disney fan.”

“You? A fan of fairytales and magic? I find that hard to believe based on your everything.”

“You barely even know me dude, don’t give yourself so much credit.” Virgil tried not to smile at Roman’s dramaticized offense. “And that’s way too much of an oversimplification for Disney. I mean seriously, Constance Hatchaway fucking murdered ten of her husbands! Who even marries that many people?”

“I’ll have you know that she had five husbands, not ten! Also that hardly counts, it’s a ride all about ghosts! Of course people have to die!”

“Doesn’t mean she had to hack them to death. They could have toned down the axe murdering part.”

“Please, that’s nothing compared to the scene where Mufasa gets trampled. It’s not like you watch the murder happen, you only see it implied with the paintings and when her bouquet turns into an axe on the ride!”

Virgil smirked. “So you admit that Disney can get dark sometimes.”

Roman scoffed, seemingly at a loss of words. “I never said that!”

“You literally just said that Mufasa’s death scene is really dark.”

“It was a necessary part of the plot! Simba would have grown up to be a selfish king who only cared for power if he didn’t have to save everyone from Scar!”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s super dark and not just ‘fairytales and magic’, Princey.”

Roman did an overdramatic, offended gasp as his hand went to his chest once again. Is that the only emotion this dude knows? “I can not believe you! Twisting my words in such a fiendish way!”

“Seriously dude, are you a clown or some shit as your day job? Because the way you act is kind of hilarious.”

The offense dropped from Roman’s face almost immediately, replaced with a soft, yet still prideful smile better fit for this time at night. “I’m going to ignore the clown part and say that actually, I’m an actor for the community theater only a couple blocks from here. That usually tends to explain my behavior to people.”

“Sounds about right, yeah. You any good?” Virgil asked.

“I like to imagine so! In three days from now, I’ll be playing the lead of Fiddler on the Roof for our fall musical! I’m usually too busy to make the bigger shows, but I tried my best to find the time this year.” Roman’s proud smile faltered for a moment into something softer, more sad. Like he was suddenly grieving a lost memory. “...Though I might end up having to miss it after all.”

Virgil tilted his head to the side. “Why’s that?”

Roman shrugged, and for a second, Virgil could see past the dramatics and pride. He looked lonely, almost. “Personal stuff. Since you won’t even tell me your name, I believe I’m inclined to keep that information to myself.”

“You always tease people this much?”

Roman chuckled. “Not usually. But I am exhausted, so maybe I’m a little slap happy.”

Virgil pulled out his phone to look at the time. 4:19 AM. Holy shit. “Yeah, no wonder. It’s late as shit, and I gotta wake up at eleven today.”

“I think maybe you should go home then. I would offer to walk you, but considering you won’t say your name, I doubt you’ll let me know your address.”

“You got that right. You should go home too, before someone kidnaps you.”

Roman stopped suddenly, right below a street light. He turned around to face Virgil with such a sad smile, but Virgil couldn’t tell if that was from exhaustion or not. He looked at Virgil so softly for a long moment in a way that made him feel vulnerable. “Perhaps you’re right, but don’t worry your angsty heart about it, I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, fair.”

“Though, you are making me think, Emo Nightmare.”

Virgil tried his hardest not to blush. “Think about what?”

“Maybe you would like to see the show?” Roman asked, “I won’t be able to participate, but I’d love to hear how it went. And if you like Disney, maybe you can appreciate a classic musical as well.”

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, maybe. What days?”

Roman straightened his maroon polo and brushed nonexistent dirt off one of his sleeves. “If you go to the Sanders Community Theater website, it’ll show you all the details. I would tell you myself, but it’s a lot of information, and I really need to be heading out, sadly.”

Virgil took one last look at Roman. Even with a scratched up face and knuckles, he still looked like the softest person Virgil could ever meet. He was dramatic yet funny, and he didn’t seem to actually want to cause any harm. If anything, he just seemed like a humble idiot who wanted to make a friend late at night. Considering Roman also called him handsome, maybe he wanted a little bit more, but Virgil didn’t really mind. For someone who was tipsy and exhausted at four in the morning, Roman seemed like a good guy.

Maybe he’s not so bad.

“I’ll, uh…” Virgil hesitated, “I’ll be sure to check it out if I can. We all need a break sometimes.”

“We do.” Roman whispered.

“Yeah, so go home and get some sleep. I know you’re tipsy, but don’t get yourself murdered by being out here all night.”

Roman let out a tired sigh, looking behind himself as if to check if he could see his destination from where he stood. “You’re right about that, Jack Skellington. But I have one more pit stop to make, so don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”

“If you say so, I guess.”

Roman turned back to Virgil. “Though, if you’re interested...maybe you and I could swap phone numbers? So you can tell me about the show if you see it, and so our destined crossing on a raven black night doesn’t go to waste?”

Virgil snorted. “Raven black night?”

“I’m tired, shush. Let me be my own type of poetic.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, I guess.”

Roman took out his phone and pressed a couple buttons before handing it to Virgil. Virgil stared at it before taking it with a smirk. “...Android, huh?”

Roman didn’t just roll his eyes, he rolled his entire head. “Oh, shush and put in the darn number!”

Virgil laughed but did as he was told anyway, putting in his number and saving the contact as Emo Nightmare before handing it back to Roman. 

Roman smiled at the name so fondly Virgil’s heart almost broke. This dude’s gonna be pretty damn disappointed when he finds out my name is fucking Virgil, of all things. “Do you mind if I send you a text to make sure it works?”

“Nope.” Virgil said with a popped p.

Though, instead of sending a random letter or a hello like a normal fucking person, Roman posed under the street light and held his phone up for a selfie. He ran his hands through his hair in a fruitless attempt to fix its messiness but eventually gave up, smiling for the camera and dropping the pose long enough for Virgil to feel his phone buzz in his pocket.

Virgil pulled it out:

Unknown sent a photo

Unknown: Make sure to remember this beautiful face :P

He shook his head with disapproval, but also to hide his smile behind the safety of movement. “Seriously?”

“Don’t you worry Beetlejuice, you’ll get used to it after knowing me for long enough.” Roman tried to flip his hair back, but considering it was way too short to do so, it was a fail. “Though if I don’t respond to any texts you may send these next few days, don’t worry too much about it. I’m going to be awfully busy and won’t have my phone on me.”

“Alright, noted.” Virgil sighed and put his phone in his pocket. “Talk to you later then, Princey?”

“I sure hope so. Though, Brad Pitiful?”

“Pretty sure you already said that one, but yeah?”

“It’s 4:24 AM right now. Don’t forget that number. Considering it’s the time you last saw me, I’m sure it has some kind of luck to it.”

Virgil almost physically facepalmed at that. “You have such an ego.”

“It’s what people love about me!” Roman laughed as he dropped the overexaggerated smile for a second to replace it with seriousness. “Though, I am serious about you seeing the show. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. I’ll look into it at least, promise. Though for now, I’m fucking tired and I gotta go.”

Roman hummed, and without another word, the two turned in opposite directions to head to their next destination. Which for Virgil, was straight to bed until he woke up wondering if all of this was a fever dream. He did hear one last thing be called out to him: “So long, Dark and Stormy Night!”

Virgil didn’t respond, he only waved behind himself and hoped Roman saw it. When he turned the corner and was for sure away from Roman’s sight, he pulled out his phone and went to his contacts.

New contact added: Prince Underarm Stink

Satisfied with himself, Virgil walked the next couple blocks back to his apartment. Once he opened the door, he crashed onto his bed without bothering to change, letting sleep overcome his body as fast as it had woke him up in the first place.

I’ll text him tomorrow morning, he thought, just to test it out. Even if he doesn’t respond.

That was the last thing Virgil thought before he fell right to sleep.

***

It had been three days since the night Virgil met Roman. He’s sent one text every morning since then, but had yet to get a response to any of them. Considering Roman said he would be busy, he wasn’t too worried. If Roman didn’t respond in more than a week, though, he would consider himself ghosted.

Oh well, it was a stretch thinking the cute guy I met at 4 AM would text me back anyway.

On the third morning, Virgil sent a text saying You there yet??? Lol, before packing up his stuff and starting to walk to his classroom campus.

The walk was normal, nothing but other college students bumping into each other on the street and in the hallways until he made it to his classroom, leaning back in his seat and checking his phone.

No text messages, but he did have a couple notifications on Tumblr. Not surprising, but it was still something to occupy himself with.

A few more kids entered the classroom, stopping in the doorway right behind Virgil. “D’you know anything about this?” One of them asked.

“Nope. The guy doesn’t look familiar.” The other said.

“Damn. A ten thousand dollar reward would do wonders for a college loan.”

Virgil slowly lowered his phone back into his pocket at the sound of cash. With this amount of eavesdropping, he felt like a cartoon character with their ear growing five times in size.

“That could pay one year’s worth of a dorm. Ten grand doesn’t do shit for loans anymore.”

“Still dude, that’s ten grand you don’t gotta work for. I wish I had that.”

“Then go looking for information on this guy, I guess.”

The first guy laughed. “Maybe! I hope they find him, though. It’s always sad to hear about missing people. They usually find their bodies, like, a month later.”

“Yeah, well, people are fucked up. Now come on, I need your notes.”

“Again!? Dude, you’re a damn mooch.”

The two voices faded away to Virgil’s left as they walked away. Once the two guys sat down, Virgil turned around to squint at a paper he hadn’t noticed when he first walked in, even getting out of his chair to take a better look.

Though the moment he got closer, Virgil felt his stomach fill with lead.

Missing: Roman Goldsberry. Last seen October 2nd. Virgil stared at it for a suspicious amount of time. His eyes were widened like a bug ready to be squashed, ripping the paper off the wall and taking a closer look. No matter how many times he squished the paper to his face and examined every letter written, the facts were logically unmistakable. This is the guy I met.

The guy I met on October 3rd.

Virgil wanted to vomit. It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t be. Stuff like this doesn’t just happen, you don’t meet someone only for them to go missing that same fucking day!

Is this why he wasn’t responding to his phone!? Because someone grabbed him off the street and locked him in a truck!? Because he’s somewhere in the middle of the woods, probably being tortured right this second!?

It isn’t him. It can’t be. I’m remembering it wrong. Missing people just freak me out. They’re not. The same. Person.

Virgil felt a lightbulb go off in his head. The photo.

Roman took a photo of himself before they parted ways. He’d even said not to forget his face with that stupid egotistical smile that made Virgil wanna roll his eyes so far they went into the back of his head.

Grabbing his phone was like trying to grab an ice cube off the floor, but Virgil managed it, shakily opening his phone and going into his recent contacts.

Picture, picture, picture...there!

Virgil put his phone and the paper on his desk and compared them. Same hair color. Same hair style. Same smile. Same eyes. The only difference is the clothing.

He didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to pick apart every possible difference in the photos until he somehow managed to convince himself they were different people. But there was no way. Even in his hysteria, there was no way he could ignore that he had seen someone hours before their possible demise.

...He couldn’t stay here listening to a lecture. He didn’t care about his grade tanking because of a zero on attendance, or about the homework he’d miss turning in if he left, he had to do something. He had to help somehow, even if Virgil didn’t know exactly what he was doing.

The professor had just stepped in front of the class and started to speak. Virgil grabbed his bag and didn’t hear a word that was said.

He ran out the door and didn’t come back.

[maximumsnow]

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, HLVRAI - Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta, Dr. Coomer (Half-Life), Bubby (Half-Life), Benrey (Half-Life) Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical swearing, Basically an au exploring what if HLVRAI followed Half Life a little more closely, Au where there isn't a betrayal in that one spot, Mainly was wondering what would happen to the others if they hadn't been in on it., Some things change some don't, Oh also this is sort of intended as a not a game au

Summary: Anyone who knows original Half-Life knows that the ambush happens in that spot no matter what. What would have happened if the ambush was as rough for the others?

There was a lot to unpack involving the full realization of just how inhuman Benrey was, but all of it was shoved aside thanks to the current problem.

Which was that Benrey was horribly injured and trapped in a room that was full of a poisonous gas, and, if Coomer’s continued explanation from Wikipedia was anything to go by, it was really, really bad. Gordon did not know the limits of Benrey’s ability to heal, but if he looked this bad while getting poison shoved down his lungs, Gordon wasn’t sure about Benrey’s chances of bouncing back if he stayed for too long.

The worry cranked up to eleven when Benrey suddenly collapsed below the window.

Gordon ran over to the control console and anxiously glanced over all the buttons and levers that clearly had something to do with the environmental room. “Shit, is there like, an emergency release button?!”

Tommy wasn’t far behind. “There should- there has to be one. It’s gotta be OSHA compliant!”

“No offense, Tommy, but given everything else you’ve said followed OSHA, that doesn’t mean shit.”

“I was joking then, Mr. Freeman.”

The conversation was cut off by Bubby yelling, “Look for ‘Emergency Ventilation!’ They might be idiots, but they don’t want to waste that much space and money on a bricked room.” He had taken Tommy’s place at the tank of poison and was fiddling with something over there.

Now that he knew what to look for, Gordon renewed his search, but Tommy was already reaching over him and slammed a fist onto a button. “Woah-”

A sound not unlike an air conditioning unit but much louder kicked in, and there was an immediate change in the enclosed room as the green started to clear out. With the fog fading away and the lack of a large rainbow body covering the floor, it was much easier to see what the room used to be.

The rocky terrain was mostly barren by this point, with the remains of possibly alien plants dotted around pools of water. Corpses of headcrabs were also strewn about, but, shockingly, they were mostly still intact despite Benrey’s presence.

Most notably, though, there was the body of a soldier, and Gordon could not say the same about it. It was in more pieces than Benrey’s still alive body. There was an arm in the corner, a leg by that murky pool, and Gordon had to look away from the torso with organs leaking out of it.

That was enough nightmares for today.

He anxiously waited for the door to unlock, but despite the toxin being flushed out by fresh air and vented elsewhere, there wasn’t a click or a hiss or any other sound he would associate with an unlocking pressurized door.

“Uh, why-”

The overhead sprinklers in the sealed room turned on; the hiss of spraying water was immediately covered up by a sharp scream that could only have come from Benrey.

Gordon slammed against the window as he tried to see what was going on. “Benrey? Dude, you okay?” He knew the question was stupid, but due to where Benrey dropped, it was difficult to see the security guard from the angle the window allowed.

“What are you doing?” The tone would be called whiny if it wasn’t for the gasps of pain that punctuated each word.

The implied accusation stung. “I don’t know! We hit the button to clear out the gas and-”

Tommy interrupted, “Sorry Benrey! That stuff- That gas residue can stick. The room has special surfactant laced water in the sprinklers and… yeah. Just hold on a little longer, okay?”

The explanation was met with silence.

“Benrey?” Gordon couldn’t help but call out.

“Oh. Okay. I can chill a bit.” The voice was strained, but at least he spoke at all.

The tension left his shoulders a little. As long as Benrey was still talking, they knew he was fine. At least it sounded like his voice wasn’t as raspy this time.

Unfortunately, all they could do was wait until the room went through a complete clean cycle if the book Tommy had pulled out was right.

Feeling bad for their stuck companion, Gordon turned the intercom on and panicked when he didn’t have an immediate topic to bring up. Latching onto the first question his mind thought of, he asked, “So uh, was this why you kept disappearing on us earlier?”

More silence.

“Benrey?”

“Hey bro. Appreciate what you’re doing, but please no talking? Pretty please? I’ll be fine. Promise.” Benrey’s voice was barely audible over the fans getting louder.

The pained plea immediately made Gordon feel guilty, so he turned the intercom off and started to pace in front of the window. The sound made it difficult for any of them to hold a conversation, even if Benrey wasn’t involved, so Gordon was stuck alone in his thoughts as he waited for the door to finally open. From a different perspective, it looked like he was all but bouncing between Bubby and Tommy, but he didn’t get to appreciate that mental image due to worrying over the condition Benrey was in.

He was still reeling over the full understanding that Benrey’s one off line about not being human was not an impulsive gag, but a truthful statement. Sure, he probably should have guessed by now given Benrey’s apparent powers, but Gordon still thought that he was more in line with Bubby or Coomer. An… Enhanced human, if anything else.

But nope, Benrey was apparently a shapeshifting monster that had a human form. The scientist in Gordon was intrigued at the apparent alien life form, but the empathetic part of him knew that outright asking shit like that would be rude at best. De-human… Depersonalizing at worst.

Sure Benrey gave him hell, but it wasn’t like Benrey had been outright malicious. Hell, he had even rescued Coomer.

… Actually, he was probably also the thing that slammed into Bubby’s tube to release him.

Damn, Gordon really felt bad for being a dick to Benrey earlier, now.

His thoughts were interrupted as a loud hissing sound brought his attention back to the room, and Tommy all but yanked the door off its hinges before catching himself. “Mr. Freeman, you have to, uh. You’re wearing an HEV suit. You have to be the one to pull him out.”

Nodding, Gordon quickly passed him and entered the now supposedly cleaned environmental room. Benrey was huddled under the observation window, and when he looked up at Gordon, he actually had more than half of a face.

The sight of muscle and bone still made Gordon recoil in horror. “Holy shit, dude. Doesn’t that hurt?”

Benrey half-heartedly gave a one-armed shrug. “I’ll regen soon, don’t worry about it.”

“That doesn’t mean this doesn’t suck ass!” Hell, just looking at him was making him queasy. But the half-drowned puppy look compelled him to at least try to ease the poor guy’s pain. “Come on let’s get you out of here.” He knelt down and tried to figure out where he could potentially touch Benrey without hurting him.

“Need a hand?” Benrey rolled over, and clutched in his remaining hand was a now very muddy arm.

Needless to say, the visual equivalent of a non-sequitur gave Gordon pause as he tried to process just what he was looking at.

“Why the fuck do you have a random arm?”

“Wasn’t his.” He lazily waved the arm like it was a magic wand and pointed the hand end towards the dead soldier.

Gordon could feel his stress headache building. “What do you mean it wasn’t his?”

In lieu of saying anything, Benrey shoved the other end of the arm into Gordon’s face, and the movement startled Gordon into falling on his ass.

He was so glad that he couldn’t feel the mud through the HEV suit.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Look, it’s not, uh, natural.”

“I don’t want to look at the bony end-” He stopped and stared at the place he knew there should be blood and bone, but there were bits that looked shiny under the mud. “Metal?”

“Yeah. Not his. He’s kinda made of meat.”

“Is this… Dr. Coomer’s arm?”

“Think so. Tried to get it back for ‘em”

… That’s right, Benrey was the monster that chased the soldiers that had taken Dr. Coomer apart.

Gordon shook his head as he got back on his feet. “You can show him when we get out. Come on...”

Given Benrey’s current state, Gordon finally decided to just try picking him up bridal style. Other than a few grunts of pain as he was shifted around, Benrey kept mostly quiet.

Exiting became a problem since the others had all elected to stand directly in the doorway to peer in like children trying to snoop on their parents. He rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything, Benrey shouted, “LET ME OUT OF THIS BOX!”

The sudden volume actually made Bubby and Tommy scramble out of the way, but it took a not so subtle yank from Bubby to make Coomer move.

With the path clear, Gordon walked in and found a relatively clean spot next to a wall to put Benrey. “Here we go. Sorry, can’t do anything more comfy for ya.”

“It’s fine,” He said before shoving the arm into Gordon’s hands. “I gotta. Gotta nap.”

While the thought of staying too long made him nervous, Gordon couldn’t help but agree with him there. They could afford to take a break for a while. “Alright, I’ll get you up before we leave.”

“Sounds good.” The one eye was already drifting shut, but the steady breathing soothed Gordon’s fear.

Despite still being worried, he could see some of the skin regrowing on Benrey’s face, and, frankly, Gordon didn’t want to get sick. Instead, he turned to the others, nearly bumped into Tommy with how close he had been standing, and asked Coomer, “Hey, your arm-”

“Look, Gordon, you found my left Extendo-arm!”

“-Your arm is dirty. Do we have to do anything special to clean it?”

“Nope! It’s perfectly waterproof even when unattached. You’ve even seen me swim with it.”

“The chemicals in the water should have- should have made it safe to use. Even after exposure to- Even after being exposed to the poison.”

“Okay so just some good old soap and water to get off the dirt should be fine.” With that, he walked over the bloodstains to one of the sinks built into the counters. He tested one of the faucet handles, and sighed in relief when water flowed out of the tap. Grateful that the water was still working, he started trying to wipe off all the mud.

Progress was… Slow, however.

“How the HELL did this get so fucking dirty?”

The clunky gloves of the HEV suit didn’t make it any easier, either. As he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn clump of dirt, he glanced over towards Tommy and Benrey.

Tommy was practically standing over Benrey. Like he was guarding him.

But before he could say something to him, Bubby and Coomer’s movements caught his eye as they wandered towards Gordon’s other side.

Coomer had moved first. Something had caught his attention, and he was walking towards the other sink. Then Bubby’s examination of the poison tank ended, and he joined Coomer in looking over what was left on the counters.

They both stood in front of a strange egg-like thing, and when Gordon looked over his shoulder to do a quick headcount, he had to ask, “Uh, what the fuck is that? Please don’t poke it.”

“Hello, Gordon! I have no idea what this is!” Given his current lack of upper limbs, Coomer had settled on nearly shoving his face into it as he tried to examine it.

Bubby, of course, decided to pick it up, and before Gordon could stop him, the egg appeared to hatch on contact. “Oh. I uh. Didn’t expect that. Does this mean I’m a parent now?”

“What a beautiful child!”

The creature in question was an insectoid creature not much bigger than Bubby’s hand with a large faceted eye. When Bubby brought up his other hand to presumably touch it, a beak snapped shut very close to his finger and nearly caused him to drop it.

“Careful, before it bites your hand off!”

“I’m not that stupid.”

Gordon chose to not rise to the bait and start a fight there. “We can’t take it with us, so figure out what to do with it.”

Turning back to his task at hand, he continued scrubbing mud away, and he couldn’t help but notice that the artificial skin on the arm sometimes made it look far too real.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think- Wait where the fuck did that thing go?

When he looked back over the counter, the creature Bubby had picked up was nowhere to be seen.

He had to ask, "What did you do?"

"Tranq'ed it."

Gordon blinked a few times before yelling, "HOW?"

"With tranqulizers Gordon use your goddamn brain." With that, Bubby turned away and walked over towards the desk.

"Where did you- you know what? I don't need to know." He knew a lost cause of a conversation when he saw one, and he did not want to deal with it anymore.

Once the arm was sufficiently cleaned, he placed it on the counter and nearly ran into Coomer.

“Hello, Gordon!”

“Hey, Coomer. Does this need to dry before we reattach it, or can it just go right on?” He waved towards the drying arm.

Coomer mused for a second before saying, “It is waterproof, but I’ve never tried attaching the arms while they’re still wet. Maybe we should sit it in rice for a few minutes?”

“Uhhhh, we don’t have rice, dude. But we can let it air dry for a while. Don’t think we’re going anywhere soon.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder towards the resting Benrey. In a quieter voice, he asked, “How’re you holding up?”

Matching his volume, Coomer responded, “I’ll be much better when I have my arms again. At least we’re almost halfway there.”

Gordon reached over and patted Coomer’s shoulder before going back to the others. “How about we just. Take a breather for now?”

“Best idea I’ve heard all day,” Bubby said before promptly dropping to the floor. At least that spot was clean...

“… You okay?” “I’m fine!” Despite the claim, Bubby was removing the shoe on his bad foot and was checking on the injury.

Before Gordon could go over and repeat the question, Coomer lightly shoulder checked him as he passed by and gave Gordon a look.

As Gordon understood it, that was an unspoken, “Let me handle it,” gesture, and he backed away from the older scientists as they settled.

Coomer lightly leaned against Bubby on his way down to a sitting position; the ease with which he went through the motions spoke of years of practice.

How often had Coomer been armless before?

Gordon knew the question would be unappreciated at the moment, but it hovered in his mind like an annoying fly. He tried to distract himself by taking a seat not far from Benrey and Tommy, but Benrey was still obviously regrowing shit, which Gordon still didn’t want to focus on.

So that left trying to get Tommy to relax.

“Yo, Tommy, uhh. How long before I can sleep?” He nearly slapped himself on the forehead with how dumb that was. Wow, great conversation starter, Gordon. Bringing more attention to their group's various injuries was a great way to ease Tommy’s worries.

The expected reaction of Tommy managing to tense up even more made Gordon vaguely wonder when the theoretical string would snap. “I don’t- It’s not an exact science. Just. If you-” Tommy cut himself off. “-I know we can’t keep you up forever.” The admission was followed by a drop in Tommy’s shoulders. “Can you stay up until night- until the we have to stop and sleep later?”

The correction was appreciated. Sometimes they didn’t see the sun for a while, and at this point, Gordon didn’t even know what time of day it was. The lobby had ambient sunlight shining through the skylight, but with everything happening, he couldn’t even begin to guess how long ago that was.

Right, he needed to answer that question before Tommy wrung himself into a spiral of anxiety. “Yeah, man, I can do that.”

Tommy’s face lightened up into a faint smile, and while that gave Gordon some relief, he couldn’t help but feel sad that the normally vivid expression had faded so much.

Deciding to take the conversation back to what he actually wanted to talk about, he asked, “Wanna take a breather? The rest of us are. Can you mess up the door like the last one?”

Tommy bit his lip as he appeared to weigh the options. “This door doesn’t- This room doesn’t have a Tesla charge. So it doesn’t have the same-” Tommy waved his hand in frustration, “-Things. That the last door we blocked did.”

Gordon groaned, “OSHA Compliance?”

“OSHA Compliance.”

Sure, he knew why most automatic doors didn’t have an auto-lock on them, but it made things really inconvenient right now.

“How about we just block the door with something? We’re all hanging out on the ground.” Despite that last statement, Gordon adjusted himself so that he could stand up and help.

“Take it easy, Mr. Freeman, I can get it,” Tommy said before putting a hand on Gordon’s shoulder to keep him seated.

“But-”

“It won’t take me long, just keep- Watch out for the others.”

He wasn’t entirely sure just what he meant since Bubby was already faintly snoring, and Coomer was loudly snoring, but didn’t argue as Tommy breezed past him.

Gordon would swear he only blinked before Tommy had come back and settled near him and Benrey.

“You already done?”

“Yeah, just took some- Took a few chairs and made a barrier. The counter already blocks us from view. And the- the uh, blood trail should be a warning sign...”

Tommy sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Gordon, and it didn’t look like it was working.

“I believe you.”

The look Tommy gave him conveyed incredulousness and gratitude.

“We’ll get through this, okay? But don’t burn yourself out. I can keep an eye on things for an hour or two, if that would help?”

Sure, Gordon knew he would be an alarm system at best, but Tommy looked so tired. Even if Tommy would only take a short nap, it would be better for him in the long run.

Honestly, it would be better for all of them since he was the only one not physically fucked up in some way, but Gordon’s primary concern in the moment was Tommy’s mental wellbeing.

The quiet after the question stretched for an uncomfortable minute, but Gordon knew Tommy needed to think this through on his own terms. “Sure, I can- I can take a nap. Will you wake me up in-” Tommy then seemed to notice the lack of functioning clocks in this room, “-In a little while.”

“Poggers,” Gordon nearly died as the streamer lingo slipped out. Sure his interest in video games had slipped out earlier, but the residual fear of exposing his private interests to professional colleagues never went away completely. “Sounds good, I mean.”

Tommy shrugged before handing over the assault rifle and sliding down from his seated position to a laying position.

“G’night, Mr. Freeman.” “Goodnight, Tommy.”

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 15

Warnings: language, literally zero editing

Word count: 3k

A/N: Wow I’m back to updating this story??? A million years later?? I am so sorry to anyone who was following this - but if you’re still reading and still interested, here’s an update! God as my witness, I will finish this. I actually have more ideas and inspiration for where the story’s going now - plus we’re all getting quarantined, so these WIPs have never had a better chance of getting done. Anyways, here it goes! Please let me know what you think! 

The lone monitor beeped steadily, plaintively, in the early morning quiet of the hospital room. Air rattled through the breathing machine, filling unknowing lungs over and over. A starched white blanket was pulled up to his chest, covering most of the bandages wrapped around his torso from the hours of emergency surgery. His left arm was already in a cast and laid on top of the blanket, resting against his stomach. 

Natasha felt sick.

And angry. 

How could she have been so stupid? Acting like a goddamn rookie, for starters, and running to Nick to fix their situation - letting things get out of hand with the Avengers, failing to convince Y/N to get out of here before things got bad. And they were only going to get worse. 

If Nick had been identified, then they were all in danger. And there was no fucking way, to her mind, that he couldn’t have been I.D.’d. This wasn’t a random accident, regardless of whatever the hell the local police wanted to write on the incident report. It was an attack, a warning. First blood. 

Her knee bounced in her seat by the bed, plastic upholstery squeaking with every shift in her weight. She chewed her nails - a habit she thought she had finally managed to kick. A tall nurse, dark curls piled into a bun on top of her head, came in to check Nick’s vitals; she was quiet, efficient, offering Nat a sympathetic smile. 

“If you need anything, just contact the nurse’s station, ok?” Her pink bubblegum, tucked in the back corner of her mouth, was visible when she talked. “And there’s a coffee machine around the corner, in case you need your fix before the cafeteria opens up.”

Nat nodded her thanks as the woman slipped out of the room, her white nursing clogs creaking a little, not yet broken in. 

The sky outside the window continued to brighten, a clear and cold winter morning; she wasn’t sure how long she stared at him before she decided to have that coffee after all. Massaging her temples, she shuffled down the hallway towards the flickering glow of the machine. Her boots echoed on the tiles in the empty hall, the low hum of the coffee machine filling the little alcove near the elevators. It whirred and hissed and spat out her coffee into a blue paper cup with slow, deliberate drips. 

How had she let it get this far? What was she going to do without him? And who the hell could she trust? She winced as the first sip of coffee burned her tongue. It wasn’t as though she didn’t trust the team…but she’d gone to Nick in the first place because they were no longer being objective - Barnes especially, and Rogers was only enabling him. 

Her eyes on the waxed linoleum floor, she barely noticed him standing outside the door of the hospital room. Steve squared his shoulders, directly in front of her, his eyebrows tilted at a thunderous angle. 

“You gonna tell me what the hell is going on here?” he gritted out, the hoarse edge of his voice scraping in his throat. 

Nat didn’t answer, not right away. Instead, she let him stew in the boil of his righteous anger, air tightening between them. The coffee had cooled a bit, but left a funny taste in her mouth - the flavor mixed badly with the mints she’d been sucking on an hour ago. The muscles in her neck and back ached from hunching by Nick’s bed all night, and she arched a little on her feet, stretching and flexing, though the early morning tightness never quiet left her muscles. 

Finally, when the flare of Steve’s nostrils told her he was on the verge of making a scene, she gestured toward the door with her coffee cup. 

“Why don’t you head in there and see for yourself?”

Clenching his jaw, Steve turned and let himself into the hushed dimness of the hospital room. He filled the doorway - he filled most doorways - and from behind Natasha wished he could march into this and save the day, the way he always wanted to. At the foot of the bed, he stopped and rested a hand on the mobile tray waiting there, now cleared of the uneaten food from last night. His mouth turned further down, matching the turn of his eyes as he watched the sleeping man tucked into crisp hospital linens. After all these years, I was so strange to see Nick this way - weak, still, not in command. It shook something loose inside of him, but he tamped it down, cracking the knuckles of his fist. 

“You know who did this?” he said, his voice a low growl under the tone of the monitors. Behind him, Nat closed the door with a soft click. 

“Of course I do - don’t you?” She slipped behind him, sipping from her coffee, and took up her chair by the bed again. 

Big hands curling and uncurling, Steve remained silent. From her spot in the squeaky hospital chair, Nat watched the slant of his profile, reading the rage in every line. 

“Rumlow is dead,” Steve said through clenched teeth. 

“But not the rest of them.”

“Without a leader? They’re just a bunch of thugs.” Steve shook his head. “There’s someone else pulling the strings - someone smarter.” He nodded towards Nick’s prone body. “Someone who knew about Nick. Maybe about all of us.”

Natasha nodded slowly, one finger tracing the rim of her coffee cup. Usually she enjoyed being right. 

Steve scrubbed at his face with his hands, blowing a harsh breath past his lips. He turned away from the hospital bed and paced along the edge of the room, towards the window. With the thin curtain drawn, pale sunlight cast shadows beneath his eyes, sharped the noble angle of his nose. HE never dreamed they’d be standing here, years deep in a life built on lies and duty. Fresh from the army, him and Buck, and no plans - that’s when Sam approached them. Intelligence work, a chance to do something important, to keep fighting the good fight on the home front. 

“They’re all in danger.” Natasha’s voice scraped at the edges of her throat. “You know that, Steve.” 

“I know.”

“It’s time.” He turned to look at her, bits of hair falling from her ponytail to frame her face. Bits of mascara had smudged underneath her eyes, bloodshot and heavy. 

“Make the call,” Steve said, looking back towards the window. “Get Pierce if you have to. It’ll piss off Stark to go over his head, but I’m not worried about his ego.”

Nat licked her lower lip, tracing the chapped skin. 

“What about Barnes and his girlfriend?” she asked, leaning an elbow on the arm of her chair. “I can’t see him being eager to burst their happy little bubble.”

Steve sighed through his nose, crossing his huge arms across his chest. The monitors beeped a lonely rhythm behind him. 

“I”ll handle Bucky. Just get everything ready - make all the arrangements. Do what you have to do.” 

  ***********                                                                                                  

“So for dinner, I’m thinking…we still have that spaghetti squash in the fridge? I could whip up some kind of sauce to go with it…” she peaked her head up over the door of the fridge. “Sound good to you, Buck?” 

Startled, Bucky’s head popped up from his phone. 

“Uh, yeah sure,” he said, ducking back down and resuming the rapid movement of his thumb. 

With a frown, Y/N hip-checked the door closed, bottles rattling inside. 

“Are you listening to me, Bucky Barnes?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she leaned back against the fridge. 

He looked up again - a well-developed sense of self-preservation kicked in when he caught that dangerous glint in her eyes. 

“Yes - yes, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he sighed, sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Whatever you want for dinner is good - I’m fine with the spaghetti squash.”

She was never so easily distracted. 

“What was so interesting?” she nodded his direction. “You’ve been glued to that thing all afternoon.”

Bucky’s shoulders dropped as he sighed, rounding the edge of the counters to approach her in the kitchen. Soft hands reached for her hips, reeling her in closer, sharing heat and heartbeats. The scent of his cologne drifted up on the air between them - spicy, warm, just subtle enough to remain sexy. He leaned in close and pressed his lisp to her forehead, devoted and sweet, and always properly apologetic. 

“I”m sorry, baby,” he said, squeezing her waist softly. “It’s just Steve-”

“Steve?” She looked up at him with a frown, neat little line forming between her brows. “Steve has been blowing up your phone?”

“Yeah, I know.” He shook his head. “It sounds like total bullshit, but I swear that’s all.”

“What’s going on with Steve?” 

Bucky sucked in a deep slow breath, hoping to hide his hesitation. Their “club business” had always taken first place, first priority…the job came first. The job was important. They were saving lives, putting away criminals. But now his girl was pouting at him in the kitchen, and he’s so tired, so goddamn tired all of a sudden - of all of it. Of being a public servant or a hero or whatever the hell. Of duty. He wants to pack it all up and just start driving. Move back to the city - or hell, even the suburbs would be nice. He’d take Y/N to Sunday dinner at his mom’s place; they’d move in together, and Y/N could decorate just how she wanted, and he’d sweat over rearranging the furniture and complain about trips to fuckin’ Ikea and all the other stuff that normal boyfriends got to do. In this moment, this inhale, he tasted it all, the life they could have. A dream they could build, together. 

And all he had to do was come clean. About all of it. 

In the space of an exhale, he faced it. He wanted this. It was on the tip of his tongue. 

And then the next breath. 

“Just club stuff,” he shrugged, feeling the weight of the lie dropping on her. “There’s…been a little drama between the members lately. Nothin’ for you to worry about.” 

With another kiss to her forehead, he turned away and opened the fridge. 

“I’ll put that spaghetti squash in this afternoon if you want me to,” he offered. “That way it’ll be ready when you get off work. Sound good?” 

Y/N nodded mutely, pressing her lips into a smile. She had to admit it was nice having a boyfriend who was mildly competent in the kitchen. 

“Okay, well, I’ve got to get in to the clinic,” she sighed, checking her watch. “Shit! I’ll be late.” Swinging her bag and lab coat over her shoulder, she gave him a final peck on the lips before bolting to the door. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Bucky called from the kitchen. 

“Too cold!” was her reply - and then she was out the door. 

Bucky stared at the closed door for a moment, one hip leaned against the counter, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. He just needed some time. Just a little more time to sort all this out. And then he’d tell her - the whole truth. Everything. And after, they could have a life together, something real, something safe, a home. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Steve again. 

Call me. Now.

Even as he rolled his eyes at Steve’s flare for the dramatic, a little tremor seized Bucky’s heart. Dread hovered in the back of his mind as he swiped his thumb and dialed Steve’s number. 

This could only go badly.

  **********                                                                                                  

One breath.

Inhale to exhale. That was how long it took for him to lie to her. 

Cold fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel, it was all she could think about. It scared the hell out of her, whatever it was he tried to hide in that breath, whatever he decided to keep from her. He’d never done that before…or had he? Did she know? Would she know? Would she be able to tell? 

Calm down, Y/N. You’re overreacting. She lectured herself, cranking the heat in her car to a higher setting. A top 40 song, thumping beat and repeated lyrics, hummed faintly on the radio; she was running late enough that the morning talk show had already ended, moving on to the daily shuffle of hits and local business commercials. It all went unheard in the worried circle of her thoughts. 

What could he have to hide? Unbidden, her mind flooded with horrible possibilities, every possible answer to that question, and each more horrible than the last. Was he cheating? Another woman was responsible for the constant barrage of text messages pinging his phone? Bucky was handsome, not to mention clever, flirtatious, romantic; she had no doubt he could get any woman he wanted. But his attention and affection for her hadn’t waned - just this weekend he’d planned a beautiful dinner for the two of them, followed by a homemade cheesecake he had slaved over for dessert, and then well…he was certainly still eager in the bedroom. The warning signs just weren’t there. 

So what else? He’d never been secretive about the club before. Avengers business was Avengers business, but he’d never lied to her about it. It turned her stomach sour, and she regretted having those pancakes this morning, the cloying smell of syrup still on her hands making her want to pull over and vomit on the side of the road. 

She knew she was working herself up, letting her mind run amuck, but she couldn’t stop herself. By the time she pulled her car into the parking lot of the clinic, she’d half made up her mind to turn right around, go home, and confront him. The image of herself, half-crazy with ideas of secret affairs or violence or drugs, marching into the house and accusing him of lying - it stopped her short.

God, why am I losing my shit over this? Y/N dropped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, the car idling in the lot, warm and safe from the harsh winter morning. She’d dealt with shitty men before, she’d survived bad boyfriends. It was impossible to make it very long as a woman without that experience. And yet, somehow, the memory of that paled in comparison to the devastating knowledge that Bucky was lying to her. 

You love him. Oh god, she did, she loved him - she was in love with him. 

She hurried out of the car and into the clinic, preferring to bury herself in wellness checks and vaccines and the flu than to keep thinking on it. 

    **********                                                                                                   

At the reception desk, Charlotte stopped her before she could get to her office.

“Oh! You’re needed at the county hospital today.” She handed Y/N the note, written on robin’s egg blue stationary. 

“I’m sorry? Why?” Y/N squinted at the note, a handwritten scribble. Charlotte shrugged. 

“No real explanation - but the chief surgeon said that they could use an extra set of hands with all the flu cases they’ve got coming in.” She took a sip from her travel mug. “I’ve heard they’re a little overwhelmed down there, since they’re the closest treatment for a lot of people in the county.” 

Y/N sighed, looking back out to her car. She hadn’t planned to drive the extra mileage out to the hospital today; not to mention it would probably make her late coming back for dinner tonight. Digging in her purse, she grabbed her phone and shot off a quick text to Bucky, explaining the change. 

“Alright then,” she huffed, placing her purse back on her shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you later.” 

With a wave to Charlotte and the other nurses, she was back out the door and heading to her car. This time around, she turned the radio up loud, singing along and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel and not thinking about this morning, or her own life, or anything at all. 

    **********                                                                                                   

At the hospital, she was assigned to make rounds for one of their physicians who had called in sick. Simple enough. The elevator ride up was quiet, new nurses and doctors all quiet and polite, but holding down their conversations in the presence of a stranger. 

She started on the third floor recovery ward, making her way down the hall door by door. Bedside manner was always one of her strengths; she could charm most patients with just a few words, breezing through her examinations and questions with ease. Chalk it up to customer service experience, but even the difficult patients usually treated her with gruff politeness, the insistence of her friendly manners forcing them to match with their own. Room by room, she checked charts and asked about pain levels and wrote prescriptions, the morning passing by in hours of sterile white tile and the smell of hand sanitizer. 

Turning a corner onto the next ward, she was just looking up from her clipboard when she caught a glimpse of a familiar shade of red ducking into a doorway. Y/N hurried her steps, her cadence almost a jog as she tried to catch-

“Natasha?” She knew that hair, the back of her jacket, the set of her shoulders. 

Nat was standing in the door of the hospital room, propping it open with one arm, head turned over her shoulder to stare at Y/N with weary eyes. Her face was pale, scrubbed clean of makeup, the bright baby hairs around her face twisting in tight little curls. At the sight of Y/N, she quirked the corner of her mouth up in an attempt at a smile, but it only managed to make her look more strained and exhausted. 

“What are you doing here?” Y/N went on when she didn’t get an answer. Her eyes cut past Natasha to the dim fluorescence of the room behind her. “Is everything okay?” 

Nat stared for another moment, her lips pressed tight together, jaw working back and forth. The hand she held on the door was curled in a small, tight fist, the peaks of her pale knuckles standing out against the long sleeve of her hoodie. Then, still silent, she stepped aside, gesturing for her friend to enter. 

“Come in,” she said hoarsely. “We need to talk.” 

[seokjinchuriki]

i love you | pjm

Pairing: Vampire!Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 1591

Genre:  Fluff! Angst? Vampire!AU

Summary: jimin can’t understand why he cares for you so much, a human, when he hated humans

Warnings: i dunno, spooky hypothetical situations, falling in love

A/N: this is also related to the byiav universe, but you don’t need to read that to read this. i really liked writing this, i hope you enjoy.

—

Jimin hated humans. That was a fact. So emotional, so naive, and so... complicated. Yet... he was sitting with you inside an ice cream parlor that opened 24 hours a day, watching you eat your strawberry ice cream topped with every topping imaginable, after a bad day. Maybe it was your beautiful, (e/c) eyes, or the way your hair fell down your shoulders... or the way you laughed at anything you found humorous.

You had invited to go out with your friends, and he ended being reeled into a game of cards against humanity with you, and one of the black cards had asked, what does Vin Diesel eat for dinner? and you were the one they had to make laugh, of course. So Jimin put the one card down he knew would make you laugh, Geese. That was it, that was the card, and in the end, he was right, you were bent over, heaving, because you thought it was funny.

He should hate you, you're human after all, but he can't. He can't seem to figure out why. Maybe it's the way you don't run from him or the way you gave him your time, knowing he could just... hurt you. Kill you even. You were still here.

"Why are you staring at me?" You asked, pulling him out of his you-induced trance. He was startled, letting out a cough, and shrugged it off.

"I'm not staring at you, Peaches." He dismissed it quickly, "I was just zoning off into space, or whatever it is you say."

Yes, he called you Peaches. He decided to call you this, a year or two ago, when your friendship was still fresh, because of a fond memory he had of you taking him to the farmer's market. You had knocked down an entire rack of peaches, and of course, out of embarrassment, you bought every single one of them. Spending the rest entirety of your paycheck.

You never mentioned wanting to go to the farmer's market again.

"Hmmm, okie." You just went straight back to your ice cream. No questions asked, you trusted him that much and he can't understand why. He sat back in his chair, his legs crossed, admiring you. You were just... a different kind of human, he supposed. You look like one and have close to the same mannerisms as everyone around you, but there was also something different. Something that left him unable to despise you like he would with anybody else.

—

"Jimin... do you think you could stay in here with me?" You laid in your bed, snuggled up under your blanket, you were, yet again, having a bad day. You struggled with your presentation in class and it led you down the storm drain, and to top it off, you were stood up by your 'friends'.

When you had come up when swollen eyes and cheeks, Jimin had just decided to bundle you up and put you in bed. That always seemed to work for you. Your cries were annoying and... maybe he just didn't like seeing you sad, but he wouldn't tell you that. He sighed, running a hand through his blond hair and stepping towards the bed, you felt a little dip beside you, and suddenly he was cuddling you. Giving you the pressure you needed to relieve the tension in your body and make you feel better.

You had fallen asleep in no time, and Jimin was stuck here. Holding you.

(Not that he minded.)

The initial position the both of you were in when you had fallen asleep was you as the little spoon and him as the big spoon, but as time passed, your unconscious self opted for a more intimate position, snuggled up against him with your head on his chest and your arm resting on top of his stomach.

How did a vampire who despised humans land a human roommate? How did he end up being the one to comfort you when you had emotional outbursts? How did he end up taking you to ice cream parlors at 3 in the morning?

And the most important question is...

Why did he keep allowing himself to do these things? He hated humans. Absolutely hated them.

Even though Jimin didn't understand why he was in this situation and why he allowed it to get this way, he couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

—

"Mini, why do you choose to stay here with me? Or... why do you keep me alive? You're a... vampire, and really handsome and wealthy, and you could be hanging out with anybody else, but you choose to stay with me all the time." You were both sitting on the couch, watching one of your favorite movies, Lady and the Tramp. You were laying on one of end of the couch, while Jimin sat at the other end.

Jimin sat there for a moment, asking himself why you would ask such a question, but then he realized, why did he actually stay here with you? He could be somewhere, anywhere, he wanted, yet here he was, sitting inside with you on a Saturday watching one of those ridiculous Disney movies you enjoyed so much. Why hasn't he killed you? Your blood smelled sweeter than any other person on this earth and it would sate his thirst for months.

There was a specific word in his head, trying to pull itself out of the shadows of his mind.

L... L... L!

Why did his mind keep repeating the letter L? Jimin didn't know, so he just gave you a random response, one that would likely sate your curiosity for now.

"All the luxury and change gets boring, Peaches, and with your diet, I'm sure your blood wouldn't taste very good."

You didn't ask any further, just pulling the blanket you had up so it was covering you from your neck to your toes.

"And maybe you're a bit of a cool friend too." He mumbled, his voice low enough so you wouldn't hear and it'd be lost in the cool air of the room you both sat in.

—

You were gone longer than normal. Jimin knew your schedule like the back of his hand, so why weren't you home yet? You hated staying out longer than 5PM, and would much rather be inside watching Chowder or any of those stupid, old cartoons you liked. He thought they rotted your brain, but didn't have the heart to make you stop watching them, they just made you so happy.

He was worried, are you hurt? Did someone attack you? Did another vampire decided to take you as their next meal? Did you get attacked and mauled by a werewolf in the alleyway that led to the forest? All of these hypothetical situations attacked Jimin's mind. He was scared, for the first time in his life, he was afraid and he didn't understand these emotions.

Jimin was a pureblood vampire, he was born as such. Not bitten, like his friend Jungkook, or any other vampire. He didn't have any reason to be scared. In his life, every creature submitted to his will and he could control a human with the snap of his fingers. Fear was not an emotion he felt.

Before Jimin could think any more irrationally, the sound of the apartment door opening and shutting rang through his enhanced senses and he was standing in front of you in no time. You were startled, and stared up at him with wide eyes.

"Ji-" You began, but the vampire was faster.

"Where have you been?" He asked, his tone sharp, but his eyes were soft, full of worry, something you've never seen in them before.

"I had to stay after class to discuss our end of the semester project," You said, softly, Jimin had you 'cornered' against the door. You weren't scared, even with the way he stared you down, you knew he wouldn't hurt you. Wouldn't he already have if that was his intent to all along?

"You could've... at least called, or sent me a text, do you know how worried I was? You could've gotten attacked by another vampire on the street... or even a werewolf! Not all werewolves are like Taehyung, you know that right? You can't just go out alone and after the hours you say you'll be home by, and not tell me!" Jimin was panicked, his eyes frantic, and looking all over your face, trying to find injuries he knew weren't there.

"Jimin... I- Why do you care so much? I'm pretty sure you couldn't care less if I died, just another human off your shoul-"

"I care so much because I love you!" Jimin's sudden outburst caused a sudden silence to ring throughout the room, "I... I love you, okay? And I've never felt worried or scared for anyone in my entire life, yet here I am, worried for you. Scared that you wouldn't come home, and I'd see on the news that you were found, dead in an alleyway."

Jimin loved you? He loved YOU?  A human, a creature he's hated all his life.

The L word trying to escape his mind was LOVE. He stays because he loves you. He hasn't killed you because he loves you.

"Y-You love me?" You were shocked, never in your life would you have thought that Jimin loved you. You, (y/n) (l/n), the emotional human being that came home everyday and annoyed the shit out of him.

Before anything else could happen, Jimin pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close to him.

"I do love you."

[backtobackbakubabe]

Baby its Cold Outside (PART 2)

Bakugo x Reader

Bakugo has feelings

*Angst *Fluff *Smutish *All the feelings

Words: 1894

PART 1 HERE, PART 2 HERE, PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE PART 5 HERE , PART 6 HERE PART 7 HERE PART 8 HERE PART 9 HERE PART 10 HERE PART 11 HERE PART 12 HERE PART 13 HERE PART 14 HERE

*****************************************************************************************************

Ever since that fateful day a month ago that you forgot your jacket, you and Bakugo had been all over each other. You basically lived at his place. Waking up every morning to a fresh cup of coffee just the way you like it and if you were lucky, maybe even some shower sex before you went off to work.

He loved having you over all the time, and if he didn't think it was too soon he'd probably ask you to move in. Hell you had known each other for over five years now. Just because you only now started dating doesn't mean he hadn’t thought about this for a while. He loved making you dinner and taking care of you. He found it adorable how you could never reach anything in his kitchen. You begged him to move some stuff down to a lower shelf but he refused. Saying it was more fun to watch you climb on the counters. In reality he just liked that you always needed him to reach things.

You were always popping back and forth between your apartment and his. He had learned that if he listened really hard he could hear the telling sound of whooshing air that signaled your coming and going. It was subtle but he grew accustomed to it and could now pick it out anywhere. Subconsciously smiling every time he heard it. He still acted surprised whenever you tired to sneak up on him. You were always so cute when you thought you had actually scared him.

You were nervous work would be weird now that you two were together. But it was the opposite. Your chemistry was through the roof, and you were kicking ass. I mean there was the one incident were you chased down a thief and totally kicked his ass before Bakugo could get there. First he was yelling about how you were reckless and should have waited for back-up and then the next thing you knew you were being pushed into a side closet and being fucked senseless.

Today had been a long day. Bakugo had the day off and spent the whole day with Kirishima doing whatever it is those two do. You had to be paired up with some random hero you had never heard of for patrol today and he bored you to death. You wanted your spicy nugget back.

You could hear Bakugo banging around upstairs so you knew he was home. Excitedly you teleported into his apartment which was something that had become quite the habit the last few weeks. You quietly snuck over to him as he cooked in the kitchen. You didn't know what it was, but it smelled really fucking good.

You slipped your hands around his waist as you hugged him from behind, “mmm smells good baby.”

“Keep making noises like that and I just might have to bend you over the kitchen table and take you right here.”

You playfully swatted at his stomach, “Such a caveman”

He continued to stir whatever it was he was cooking, “But I’m your caveman.”

You slowly pushed past the waistband of his pants and palmed him through his boxers, “And I’m all yours...”

And that's how Bakugo, for the first time ever....burnt dinner.

*****

You were walking around the apartment wearing one of his t-shirts looking for take out menus. You two had worked up quite the appetite. You returned to his bed, phone in one hand and a ramen menu in the other.

Bakugo put his hand on your thigh and rubbed soothing circles, “Hey I think we need to talk.”

You froze as panic started to seize you. No good conversation ever started that way.

He gently took the things from your hands and pulled you into his lap. Brushing his thumbs over your cheeks, “I think we need to tell our boss we’re dating. It's kind of unprofessional for us to be partnered on patrol if we’re romantically involved.”

You let our a huge sigh of relief, “I thought you were about to break up with me. I was seriously about to start crying.”

He brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face, “Oh no! Dont be fucking dramatic. Of course not you idiot. You think I’d wait five years to make a move just to toss you to the curb. No you’re unfortunately stuck with me.”

You gave him a soft smile and leaned forward snuggling into his neck, “Is that why you want a new patrol partner? Because you’re stuck with me.”

You were just teasing him and he knew that but he still rolled his eyes. “No I love working with you. Honestly, I know I complained at first, but I love getting to see you in action. If anything it turns me on.”

You thumped him on the forehead, “We’re having a serious conversation here reel it in horn dog.”

He frowned, “I went to get some drinks with Kirishima and we got to talking about how scary it is to have significant others also in the hero business. Y/n if something were to happen to you I don't know what I’d do.” His grip on you tightened. “If it were to come down between saving you or catching a villain or hell even saving you or saving a civilian... I would choose you every time. Hero’s aren’t supposed to selfish, but how can I not be when my first priority is always going to be standing right next to me.”

He started to run his hands through his hair out of frustration, “And honestly I don't think changing partners would even help at all. Because I don't know if I could trust anyone on this earth to watch your back while your out there the way I do. I would be worried sick every day. And I know I can’t ask you to quit, that’s not even an option... I’m just freaking out!”

You cradled his head against your chest and you ran your fingers through his hair. You felt a single tear run down your cheek. You knew he cared, but you didn't know he cared this much. That was practically a declaration of love, especially coming from Bakugo. You two had known each other since UA, and you have never seen him show so much emotion that wasn’t rage.

“Oh honey nothing’s going to happen to me. When push comes to shove I can always teleport away. It may only be 50 yards right now but that's farther than I could at the begging of UA! Remember you used to make fun of me because I could only go about 20 feet. You pushed me every day to be better and look where I am now. That’s because of you! Who knows, maybe soon I’ll be able to go miles!”

He got very serious as he took your head in his hands, “Promise me y/n. Promise me that if it’s ever you or me you will always pick yourself. I need to know that if we ever get in a sticky situation you’ll teleport away.”

You could see the desperation in his eyes. He really needed to hear you say it. But you couldn't. It would be a lie. There’s no way you could ever leave him behind. Even before you two were together you still would have fought till the end with him.

“Katsu... you have to understand how impossible that is to ask of me. Could you do it? Leave me behind and run off to safety?” His eyes watered up but no tears spilled out. “I know you couldn't. We’re heroes... it’s in our job description to put others before oursleves.”

His hands left your face and settled in his lap holding on to yours. His eyes couldn't meet yours. You had never seen him so vulnerable. “Please y/n. For my sanity. Just promise me.” His eyes snapped up to yours and they looked so sad but so serious. “I tried so hard to not have feelings for you. For years I teased you and pushed you away because I had convinced myself being a hero would be easier if I did it alone. No matter what I did though I could never get rid of those nagging feelings. You don’t even know how many times I’ve lost my shit over you.”

He took a deep breath, “Once at UA, Mineta somehow had acquired a picture of you while you were changing and I beat the little shit to a pulp.” Oh Shit he really was opening the flood gates now. “All those times I pushed you harder in training was because I knew I wasn’t going to be there with you out in the real world and I wanted to know you could take care of yourself.”

He ran a hand over his reddening face“Shit just last month when we were on patrol! When that villain had you pinned I saw red. I fucking blew his face off. All those times I bitched about you holding me back when really I was just a nervous wreck on high alert all the time!”

He was really on a rant now. His face was flushed as he just continued to get himself worked up. It would have been cute if it wasn’t such a serious topic.

“Babe, I cant even begin to tell you how much I appreciate how much you care about my well being. I really and truly do. But like you said you pushed me so hard in training to make sure I was ready. And thanks to you I am...” You gave his shoulder a playful punch, “Besides you’re Ground Zero! Soon to be the number one hero. There isn’t a villain alive who compares to your power.”

You were just stroking his ego now but he did seem to calm down a bit. “I may not be able to promise I’ll always pick my myself over you. But I can promise that starting now I’ll try and be more careful with the risks I take. I promise I won’t intentionally put myself in danger, how does that sound?”

He groaned and started playing with your hair, “You fucking stuburn women! You never do what I ask and I mean never! If you were anyone else I’d pound some sense into you!”

You wagged your eyebrows, “I mean I’m always down for you to ah... pound... some sense into me.”

“Nope! NO! I will NOT be tempted by pelvic sorcery! You will not distract me...” You could feel his hands sliding up and down your thighs, “Like the biggest brat in the world once said, ‘reel it in horn dog.’”

You moved your hips to grind against him, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just casually sitting in my incredibly hot boyfriends lap minding my own business...”

“Damnit women!... okay FINE! BUT THIS CONVERSATION ISNT OVER!”

He grabbed your ass with a hard squeeze as he pushed you harder into his growing erection. “Shit what are you doing to me. All you have to do it bat those fucking eyes and I lose my fucking train of thought.” You yelped as he flipped you over and pined you to the mattress. “Now for once just be a good girl and let me take care of you...”

[read-me-loud-and-queer]

Allen Krueger was kind of a boring kid.

He got along with kids at school, but didn’t really hang out or talk with many of them outside of class. Even when he and his buddies would ‘hang out’, it was mostly over their discord server. He never managed to find a sport or club that appealed to him. He played snare drum in the marching band, was a solid A/B student most years. Not a lot of interests outside of biology, zoology, music, and video games. Allen was a boring kid. He didn’t do a lot - a lot of things bored him. That’s life.

So a sudden, inexplicable urge to pull out the long board that he wasn’t particularly good at and just go for a jaunt on a random afternoon in March was... well, it was weird.

"Where are you off to?” his mom asked from a stack of tests she was grading.

“I dunno, just... need to go for a ride.”

“You want me to take you someplace?”

“No, I just wanted to skate around a bit. I won’t be out long, I just need... some fresh air?”

Nicole Krueger was by no means a stern woman. A high school teacher and a single mom, she mostly struck people as someone burning the candle at both ends. But in that way that single mothers sometimes are, her first instinct was to worry and helicopter.

“You’re going by yourself?”

“Mom, I’ll be fine.”

“How long you think you’ll be out?”

“I dunno. I should be back before dinner though.”

“You’ll call if-”

“Yes, Mom, I’ll be fine. You know I’ll be getting my learner’s permit this summer - I’m not, like, ...” Allen trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hands. Words had a habit of getting away from him when he was trying to use them, or coming out when they really ought to not.

Nicole smiled. “I know, I’m sorry. Watch for cars and call me if you think you’ll be out past dinner.”

“I will, okloveyoubye-”

Allen was on autopilot. He vaguely recognized the streets he was taking and the turns he was making, but he wasn’t really... in charge here. Maybe leaving the house in this state wasn’t his best idea. The voice of reason somewhere in his head kept flipping back and forth between panicking because he didn't understand what he was doing and being eerily calm because he knew he was supposed to be doing it.

It was like a metal detector was going off somewhere in his brain, or like he was following some video game compass to a quest marker. A quest marker that was apparently at the Chautauqua.  

He couldn't even say for sure when the last time he'd even been here before was. Had he ever actually been out here? A flash of metal caught his eye, alarms in his brain going off. Was this what he was supposed to come find? A pole of some sort? Allen, still on autopilot, picked up his board and made his way over to the pole - but it wasn't really a pole, it was more like just a cylinder or a mass of some sort of metal that seemed just as indecisive about its color as it was about shape, now coppery now silvery now coppery again. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that this was all very weird, very, very weird, random pieces of color-changing metal out by buildings you've never been to shouldn't... call to you. Was that what was happening? Don't be silly, don't word it like that it's... cheesy, just because you followed a random hunch to the middle of nowhere and now there's a weird pole-not-pole that you feel pulled towards like you're supposed to pick it up doesn't mean it's calling to you get a grip, dude - Allen's hand hovered over the thing for half a second. Why did he feel like if he picked it up there was no going back? 

As soon as his hand touched the metal, it felt like he'd just been hit by a truck. Accompanying a sudden adrenaline rush was a wave of feeling utterly terrified, and blindingly furious, and more confident than he’d ever been, each distinctly and all at once, and he wanted to drop this thing because it was currently on fire but it was like he couldn't get his hand to let go of the - oh god he couldn't even make out a maybe-shape anymore it was flickering like some kind of google deepmind dream. The fire intensified to a flash and just like that was gone, along with the emotions and the roaring he hadn't realized was in his ears, leaving Allen standing in the park holding onto a fairly large battle axe.

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” Allen dropped the axe and backed out of the grass as quick as he could without tripping. “Shit shit shit shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuck thaaaaat, fuuuuuuuuck thaaaaaaaaat,” He dropped his board and began to work on putting distance between himself and whatever the fuck that was.

Finding his way back from the Chautauqua proved a bit more difficult than the original trip out. The path that had somehow felt so planned and familiar before was gone, and it took him a moment to calm himself and pull up a map on his phone. 

“How was the fresh air?” Nicole called from the kitchen as Allen rushed into the house.

“Uh, fine. Good. I’m gonna go sit down for a while now.”

His mom called after him something about when food would be ready, but Allen wasn’t paying attention. His mind was still reeling.

It wasn’t real. Couldn’t have been. You must have overexerted yourself, that’s the only reasonable explanation for... that, Allen opened the door to his room and caught a scream as quickly as he could.

“Allen? Is everything alright?” Nicole called from down the stairs.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine! Just a, uh, a spider. Landed on me. Surprised me.” He rushed into his room, closing the door quickly behind him, staring at the large battleaxe that was currently laying on his bed. 

His eyes darted around the room, looking for something to use to pick up the axe. In the end he stepped over to the dresser and dug through his pajama drawer. He settled for a now much-too-small team shirt from back when he was in an ages 10-12 hockey league.

Further attempts to throw it away proved useless. It would just show up near him again, no matter how he tried to dispose of it. After multiple tries, and he was certain this... thing wasn’t about to burst into flames in his hands, he accepted it as a part of his life now. Allen used it mostly to flip the light switch on and off from his bed.

[zer0pm]

No Name (8/?)

A/N: This is a V x Fem!Reader based on an Imagine that I have written. It covers the entirety of a romance with the charming tattooed gentleman from his conception to the end, wherever that is. If you would like to follow this story from the beginning you can click to my Ao3 page linked as “V” on this blog’s header description and it’ll take you straight to my work :) Please enjoy.

Synopsis: Dante and you have a brief heart-to-heart as you journey within the Qliphoth. Your past comes back to haunt you and after swearing off devil hunting for good, you pick up your weapon once again against the demon king.

Dante: “Morrison said you and V met before. Where did you find that guy? On the street?”

You: “Yep. Clothed him, fed him, put a roof over his head for the night. He was an excellent house guest.”

Dante: “Now’s not the time for jokes, Neff.”

You: “I wasn’t joking, Dante. What does it matter to you, anyway?”

Somehow Lady and Trish managed to get ahead, leaving you to make the journey to the target with Dante alone. And truthfully, you were not enjoying it one bit. It seemed the man was bent on getting under your skin at every waking moment whether you two were just walking around the hellish maze that is the demon tree or fighting ravenous hordes of relentless monsters simply by talking.

Dante: “It doesn’t. I’m just saying that you need to be careful around him.”

You: “I don’t like what you’re implying. It’s almost like you suspect there’s something between me and V.”

Dante: “Ha. It doesn’t take a genius to know he steals glances at you. It’s a guy thing and you’re...”

You glance over at him, waiting for his answer in challenge with a hand on your hip. The man was facing you, the way you were looking at him was making him try to come up with words that wouldn’t provoke you.

You: “I’m?”

He throws both of his hands up in defeat before cocking them on his hips, he turns his head away from you now in some random direction.

Dante: “You. You’re you. That’s it.”

Shaking your head, you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. He was tiptoeing, a terrible habit of his when he loathes to admit something. The way he was speaking, it was almost like he was jealous. Truthfully, you felt that he had no right to be.

You: “Look, Dante. V and I just met the other day. Even if there was something...”

With a finger, you poke at his chest once for emphasis before walking past him in a huff.

You: “Well, that’s just none of your damn business. Isn’t it?”

Intent on leaving it at that, you continue walking forward towards the area where the other girls were fighting. Dante stood in place for a moment before calling back to you.

Dante: “You know, we never spoke about it. That day you left.”

Flashes of the moment you walked through the doors of Devil May Cry for what you thought was the last time all those years ago began to sting the ends of your eyes. The look on Dante’s face, the angry exchange between you both, how betrayed you felt - all came flooding back. You had to bite your own tongue to will away the tears.

You: “What’s there to talk about? What’s done is done. My sister is dead. End of story.”

Only you truly wished it was. However, the story keeps replaying in your head, like it was nagging for you to finish it. But honestly, you didn’t want to. Afraid of closing that book forever, yet just as afraid of picking it back up again. So you did what you did, you let it be. You had hoped Dante would do the same, the story didn’t really include him anyways, yet the man somehow finds a way to make himself integral in every tale. This you’ve learned.

.

.

.

“You son of a bitch, I told you to wait!”

“We were out of time. Your sister told me-”

“I don’t care what she told you. That wasn’t part of our plan, Dante! You didn’t listen to me!”

“Both of you couldn’t get out of it alive so I had a choice to-”

SLAP!

“That wasn’t your choice to make!”

“Well, I made it anyway! I chose you. No matter how you look at it, it will always be you.”

That moment of anger and bitter pain was the only memory that was vividly fresh in your mind. You dared not think further back than that, to the past that led to you leaving Dante and Devil May Cry and devil hunting behind. That day was the last day that you used your weapon which now hung as a silver piece on your belt. You didn’t think you would be using it again so soon and alongside the man you didn’t want to see again period.

Eventually the two of you reached what appeared to be a double set of doors. In between the cracks, you can barely see a grotesque-looking monster...sitting on a throne? This must be the demon V spoke about and the one that had Dante on edge the moment he heard his name. Vergil.

You: “We’re here. Are you ready?”

You glance over at the legendary devil hunter who usually when it comes to jobs we just waltz right in not giving a crap. Yet right now, right here beside you, he’s still. Like a statue, staring at the doors.

You: “Hey, what’s going on with you?”

Dante: “...I wanna ask you a favor. Sort of.”

You: “Huh?”

Dante: “If we beat Ver... this demon king, you have my permission to kill him.”

You: “Okay... and why does that require your permission?”

Dante: “This way... you and me, we’re even.”

This shocks you into silence. Already your mind was speculating, reeling over about Dante, a man who prides himself on calling all the shots, prides on being a solo player, conceding this one action to you. You wanted to ask him, to elaborate further on what the hell he meant, but the legendary devil hunter was already through the twin doors, squaring his shoulders for the big fight. When you followed behind, you first spotted Lady and Trish rolling along the ground. It looks like they were beaten pretty bad and that alone began to bubble a growing anger inside you. This place was already setting you on edge and the greatest source of that anxiety was sitting before you all.

So this was the “demon king” that had even Dante garner the serious look? By appearance, he, assuming it’s a he, fit the word terrifying by every definition. Dante traipsed across the floor before the demon as if he was performing in a play.

Dante: “Well, well... O king of stench and filth. I’m impressed! Those are two of the most badass women in the world. Well, behind my sweetheart over here.”

He looks at you over his shoulder to wink at you. You had to roll your eyes and will yourself not to like over his words. His infamous monologue was already underway and he didn’t strike nor was he struck first this time. Must be a new record.

Dante: “And I know only one other guy that can defeat ‘em...”

The shift in his voice was evident along with the sudden change of mood in the air. Dante was staring down at the grotesque monster sitting on the throne, the latter of which appeared entirely unamused the entire time. You were almost certain that you were looking at a statue until Dante spoke a single word that made him tilt his head from the palm of his hand.

Dante: “Jackpot.”

Demon King: “Dante...”

It speaks. Prior to reaching at this point, you had your special arm tucked away on your belt, fighting the demons alongside Dante with nothing but a revolver. It wasn’t meant to show off, but to save as much of your energy as possible, not wishing to underestimate this powerful evil. Now that you were there, it was time. You remove the silver cylinder from your belt and lay it horizontally on the palm of your hand. By your will, it begins to glow and in and instant, it expands to a long staff. Across the surface were runic patterns of white and gold atop the silver that emitted a faint glow of energy. To grab a good feel for it once again, you twirled the staff in your hands, each spin releasing a burst of light.

The demon king moved again, this time facing you. It was hard to get a read of his expression, but you assumed that he did not like your presence one bit. Afterall, you were the last and he speaks that with venom in every syllable.

Demon King: “Nephilim.”

The last of a kind that the demons have feared and hated the most.

[wilthebean]

I use the holidays...

as a time to step out of my usual routines. I don’t think about the second bottle of wine I’m ordering. The third slice of my mom's sweet potato pie I'm about to shovel down my throat, the pack of Camel Lights that will eventually end up in my purse. All my pseudo secret bad habits are out in the open until January 1st. I always found this time a year a bit overwhelming, so doing things that I considered out of control felt comforting. I’m trash with no one to tell me “no.” I reel myself back in when “I” see fit. But something felt different this year.

It’s hard for me to describe my 2019. If I had to describe it in one word that word would be “crying.” An activity that I like to avoid at all costs. I cried alone in my bedroom after yelling at my ex-boyfriend. I cried while walking to a second 4th of July party because the first party had my ex-bf there...with his new girlfriend. I cried in New Orleans in front of Michelle Obama as she spoke about self-worth. I cried alone in my hotel room in Miami during a work trip, I was a battling sickness and was completely overwhelmed but didn’t want anyone to know. I cried in a bar bathroom right before I hosted one of my first comedy nights because I thought the night would be a failure. I slightly cried on the subway after I convinced myself I ruined my chances with the first guy I genuinely liked after my ex. I thought I was ready for a new adventure. I was wrong. These moments good or bad chipped at me in a way that was extremely uncomfortable. I spent the better half of my 30′s cultivating my world, my system, and most importantly my emotions. Nothing made sense anymore, nothing was working. 

So now we have the holidays and emotionally I was a wreck. I stepped the fuck out of my routines with reckless abandonment and was determined to end 2019 numb. Any food, liquor, and occasional drug that was available to me I would consume.  I saw no reason to “reel it in” or “work on myself.” I was tired. Friday night I went out and I’m sure I had a blast but don’t remember much of it. I woke up Saturday morning with my stomach in knots and my head pounding. I stumbled out of bed and saw the trail of clothes/shoes that started from my bedroom to the bathroom. There was dried vomit in my sink. I don’t remember throwing up. I finally saw myself in the mirror only to see smeared eyeliner and lipstick on my face. I always wash my face right before I go to bed. That bothered me the most. 

It dawned on me that I had appointments in the early afternoon. I had a therapy session downtown and then my cleaning lady was coming right after. I crawled into the shower, brushed my teeth, put on my black hoodie, and called an uber. Every turn and bump from the car made feel sick. I was relieved to get some fresh air after getting out of the car. The security guard asked me “Yo..you good?” as he took my ID so I can enter the building. “Yeah, I’m good. Just not a morning person.” as I tried to muster a fake smile. “He smirked and said...it’s 1pm.” 

My therapist was in the bathroom while I was buzzing the door to gain entrance to her office. She was probably smoking a cigarette but didn’t want to tell me. I could smell it on her when she greeted me at the door. The smell made my stomach turn. I got to her office and I could immediately smell the combination of Frebreeze, a portable heater, and cigarette smoke. I wasn’t sure how long I was going to last in her office. She wanted to start the session asking me about the holidays and how I spent it. All I could think about was if I didn’t get fresh air in 2 minutes I was going to throw up all over her couch. I squirmed and rubbed one side of my temple as I described Christmas morning at my sister's house. I felt beads of sweat on my forehead. All I needed to do was survive 15 more minutes, then I can run out of the building and puke somewhere. She stopped midway of the session and asked was I okay. That I seemed preoccupied and distant. Then out of nowhere, I cried. Through my tears, I said, “I can’t take this anymore..this is all too much!” She thought I was having an anxiety attack, I just wanted to leave the smelly room. I started to apologize for my random outburst but she insisted there was nothing for me to be sorry about. Those emotions, whatever they were would eventually go away, that I have to let them run its course. I can’t control how I feel but any bad feelings won’t seal my faint or determine my worth. That was nice of her to say, even though what I really wanted was fresh air.

After my therapy session, I managed to walk myself to a local coffee shop without vomiting all over myself and got home just in time to let in the cleaning lady. I laid in bed with a hot towel on my face the majority of her stay, until she kicked me out to clean my bedroom. By 5pm I started to feel better. 

I guess my reckless abandonment finally caught up with me, but I didn’t mind that the last time I cried in 2019 was because I was severely hungover at my therapist's office. In fact, I thought it was a bit funny. It’s impossible to be numb without facing consequences. I should’ve just told her the truth, told her what was really going on with me. 

And there you have it. I think I discovered my life lesson.

2019 I was hungover and didn’t tell a single soul, so for that, I suffered.  

2020 I need to start asking folks to open up the god damn window.