#the YA voice curse is unrelenting

[raiiny-bay]

writing adult kel & co for the first time in my life

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

You would hit BELIEVE how happy I am that you’re writing fics for Declan O’Hara he’s my new DILF obsession!!! Also it was so well-written and in-character, oh my goodness!

I was wondering if I could request a fic where Declan and female!reader are having an affair, and she’s super nervous because she’s Taggie’s best friend. She meets Declan one night in his car, and he calms her down and, obviously, they have car sex.

Ending this with a huge I LOVE YOUR WORK

Shut Up and Drive.

It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? The one person who riles you up the most is also the only person that can calm you down.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. age gap. cheating. declan and his dirty mouth. one use of the c word. overuse of the nickname sweetheart.

word count - 3k

authors note - the minute he put that baby blue t shirt on… I was suddenly on my knees. funny how that happens. can’t and won’t stop with the fics for this man. I am riding the rivals train to the ends of the earth, baby. thanks for being so sweet, anon <3

masterlist. inbox.

The phone is shaking in your trembling hand, cord all tangled where you keep twisting it around your finger nervously.

“Hello?”

You almost drop the receiver at the sound of that familiar Irish accent, despite the fact that you were the one that rang him. It has your stomach churning, in a different way than usual.

“H-hi,” you barely whisper, before clearing your throat and trying again. “Hi. It’s me.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he breathes, as if it’s the first time he’s taken a lungful of air all day.

“I, um… I’m sorry to call you on the house phone. I know it’s not how we do things usually.”

“It’s alright. What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I just, uh… I called to say that I can’t do this anymore.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I would have told you in person, but I didn’t know when I was going to see you next, so.”

“Can we-” he begins, before lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, “-can we talk about this properly? Please?”

“We can’t. I can’t. We shouldn’t.”

“Sweetheart, I’m beggin’ ya. One conversation. You’re not ending this in a quick phone call on a Wednesday night, you hear me?”

You inhale deeply, biting at your lips. There’s pure anxiety radiating through your body, prickly and unrelenting.

“I hear you,” you murmur down the receiver. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he sighs in relief. “I’m gonna come and get ya - we’ll go for a drive, alright?”

“Sorry you have to lie,” you whisper, guilt colouring your tone.

“I’d lie for you a thousand times over.”

His words shouldn’t make you feel as giddy as they do, but alas. Here you are.

“I’ll put some shoes on.”

“And a coat. It’s cold as fuck tonight.”

You half laugh, half snort at him down the phone, dreamily imagining the grin he most likely has painted on his face listening to you.

“Yes sir,” you tease, giggling. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll drive up without my headlights on. Look out for me, yeah?”

“I will.”

I always do, you think to yourself. I always do.

The line goes dead abruptly, the buzzing vibrating straight into your temples. You slip your shoes on, quickly fixing your hair and touching up your makeup in the mirror in the hallway while you’re there. You shrug your arms into your coat at Declan’s orders, knowing he’d tell you off if you turned up without it on.

You’ve almost forgotten the entire reason you called in the first place was to break things off with him.

Almost.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

True to his word, Declan drives up your road without his headlights on, slowly and with practised precision.

You’re waiting at the window for him, patiently anticipating the sight of that stupid yellow car. You’re out of the door in seconds as soon as you see him, bounding towards the passenger side and slipping in before anyone notices. He drives off quickly, not taking any time to say hello before he’s taking off out of the town and towards the rolling countryside.

You drive for a good fifteen minutes, to a spot the two of you frequent on your drives. It’s a dirt track, leading to nothing but fields for miles on end. Declan pulls the car around the bend and out of sight from the busier road, knowing that it has more than enough privacy. You’ve never been caught here before, and you don’t plan to start.

Finally turning off the engine, he turns to face you, taking in how the moonlight illuminates your features in the lowlight of the car.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

You’re refusing to look at him, knowing that if you do, you’ll surge over and kiss him until you’re both dizzy. You can feel his gaze on you, though, intense and unwavering. As it always is.

His thumb and pointer finger hook under your chin, forcing you to stare straight into his determined brown eyes. You’re willing yourself not to crumble, but you can feel your resolve starting to slip already.

“I missed you,” he whispers, careful not to spook you.

“I missed you too,” you say before you can stop yourself. “Shit.”

He chuckles, and the low timbre of it settles right in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s all this about then, hmm? The phone call?”

“What did you tell Taggie? Where did you say you were going?”

It’s your least favourite part about all of this, the lying. Lying to Taggie, to Patrick, to Caitlin, to Rupert, to your friends, to your family. Coming up with excuses has become second nature - something you hate about yourself now. You hate how it comes so naturally to both of you these days.

“Told her I was going to meet someone about some potential research for a show. She had evening plans anyway, she’s off out to Lizzie’s.”

You’re fiddling with your fingers, picking at your nails in a nervous habit as you chew your bottom lip. If anxiety was personified, it’d be you.

“You avoided my question. We need to talk about what you said on the phone, sweetheart.”

Taking a deep breath, you turn in your seat to face him properly, going over the speech you’ve practised in your head dozens of times.

“Okay. I’m… I’m not sure we should do this anymore. I- I just… I feel guilty. For lying to Taggie, mainly. And because you’re technically still married, but mainly for lying to Tag. She’s the closest friend I have, and I’m sleeping with her father. It makes me a terrible person, Declan. I have to put a stop to it.”

He processes your words for a moment, looking at you intently.

“Do ya want to?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to? Put a stop to things? Or do you just feel like you should? For other people.”

You want to lie, tell him exactly what you had planned out, feed him what you know will work. But you can’t. You can lie to everyone… except Declan.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “But I should. We should.”

“Why now? Did something happen? Did someone say something?”

“No, no. I just… Taggie said something really sweet the other day about how she was glad that she had me, because making friends here hasn’t been easy for her. And it should have made me happy, and instead, it broke my heart.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Declan cradles your face in his rough hands, resting his forehead against yours. It’s like the whole world melts away for a moment, leaving just the two of you in the tiny yellow car.

“I’m a horrible person,” you mumble. “And a horrible friend.”

“You’re speaking as if it’s just you. And it’s not, you know. There’s two of us in this affair - I’m just as guilty as you are.”

“Fine then. We’re both horrible people.”

He chuckles, breath tickling your face, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. His lips are brushing yours every time he speaks, meaning you can practically taste the cigarette smoke and spearmint on his tongue.

“I never claimed otherwise,” he retorts, still smiling.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit as his thumbs sweep back and forth across your cheekbones. “It’s weighing down my conscience, and I don’t want to hurt Tag. But… I can’t give you up, Declan. I need you. I need you more than anything.”

“You make me crazy. God, I think about you night and day, sweetheart. My thoughts revolve around if I’ve seen you and when I’m going to see you next.”

“So what do we do? I can’t quit this. I can’t quit you, I can’t quit us. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. I wish I had the answers… I wish I could make all your worries go away. But I can’t.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just… I thought that I could do it in one clean sweep. Get it out the way, you know? Call you, end things, be done. And then the minute I heard your voice over the phone… I knew I couldn’t do it. Because deep down, I didn’t want to.”

He leans in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, desperate to be close to you.

“Declan.”

“If I could fix it all for you, I would,” he murmurs against your skin. “You know I would.”

You pull back to put some distance in between you, watching him carefully for his reaction to what you say next.

“You should break things off.”

He flinches as if you’ve punched him in the stomach.

“What?”

“You should. I clearly can’t, so you have to be the one to do it. Do it, Declan. End things with me right here, right now. Please.”

Your tone is weak and unconvincing, as if you can’t even bring yourself to say the words with any conviction.

“I can’t,” he confesses, voice breaking on the last word. “I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, exhaling it slowly as if he’s buying himself some time. You wait patiently for him to continue, nerves frayed at the edges.

“Because I love you.”

Now it’s your turn to flinch, his admission smacking you across the face violently.

“You-”

“Yes. I love you, sweetheart. It’s taken me a while to figure all of this out, but I know it now. That’s why I’ve never been able to end this. Because it’s not just incredible sex… it’s something more. Something real.”

There are tears welling in your eyes as you look at him, watching the way he lays his heart on his sleeve in the moonlight just for you.

“I’m scared,” you confess. “I love you too and it scares me.”

You don’t miss the way his face lights up as you say it, but he’s trying to keep a careful lid on his emotions for now.

“I’m not going to let anything bad happen to ya. You know that.”

All you can do is nod in response, digesting everything that has happened in the last five minutes. You do know that. He’s proven time and time again that you’re not just some fleeting fling to him.

“Declan?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Now he grins like an idiot, eyes alive with adrenaline and hope.

“That’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard ya say.”

You tuck some hair behind his ear before leaning in to gently press your lips to his, wanting to seal the moment. He kisses you back sweetly at first, before taking control with more force, slipping his tongue into your mouth cheekily. You happily let him take the lead, sighing in contentment as you melt into him.

“C’mere.”

Climbing over onto his lap, you hinge your legs on either side of his in the drivers seat, straddling his hips. You try to straighten up but end up hitting your head on the roof of the car, which makes you both wheeze with laughter.

“This car is too fucking small,” you grumble, rubbing the spot that you smacked.

“Y’alright? Want me to kiss it better?”

You hate the way the teasing tone in his voice shoots right to your core, shaking your head in defiance.

“Fuck off,” you mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Patronising bastard.”

“I like it when you get your claws out,” he chuckles, tracing patterns on your thighs over your jeans. “S’hot.”

You kiss him again to shut him up, biting at his bottom lip in punishment. He groans all low and slow, which makes you grind your hips into his, despite the multiple layers of clothing separating you.

“Backseat,” he whispers, pushing you off of him gently. “More room.”

You splay yourself across the wide back seat, opening your legs so Declan can slot in between them.

“You’ve got too many clothes on,” he prompts as he shrugs off his own jacket and undoes his belt.

You can’t help but chuckle at his impatience, happily taking off your coat and jumper and unbuttoning your jeans. Your breath catches in your throat when you look back up at him - he’s wearing the Venturer t shirt that hugs his biceps just right, accentuating every delicious muscle he has to offer you.

“Wore it for you,” he mutters against your lips. “Know you like me in a t shirt.”

You roll your eyes but kiss him with determination anyway, all teeth and tongue and clashing bodies. You’re clawing at his clothed shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist to buck your hips into his.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he mumbles into the skin of your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “Lying awake at night thinking about your thighs, your tits, your cunt.”

All you can do is sigh, fingers digging into his biceps in desperation.

“Wish I could take my time with you like you deserve. These quick fucks just aren’t the same.”

He sounds almost upset about it, voice staying deep and low.

“Remember that time I stayed the night? And you couldn’t walk in the morning?”

You laugh breathily, thinking back fondly to that night a few months ago. You’d both orchestrated it so carefully, crafting cautious lies and fabricated stories to snatch a good sixteen hours of time together.

“Need that again soon. Might have to start sneaking ya into my house in the dark, make you climb the gutters like we’re in a film. Although, it is a bit hard to keep you quiet.”

You try valiantly to ignore the heat that flushes across your chest as he teases you, knowing that he’s right.

“Declan?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You grab his hand and shove it down your underwear, jeans trapped around your thighs. There’s very minimal room in this tiny car, but you’re both determined to make it work. He groans when he feels how wet you are, swiping through your core.

“Fuck me. Have you been like this the entire time?”

“Since this afternoon,” you whimper, trying to grind down onto his fingers. “Couldn’t stop thinking about when you ate me out on my kitchen worktop last week. My legs were shaking for two days afterwards.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, slipping a finger into you as he drops his head onto your shoulder. “I got myself off thinking about that yesterday. I swear if I concentrate, I can still taste you on my tongue.”

All you can do is whimper, desperate to have him in any way you can. The fact that you have the same effect on him that he does on you makes your head spin, dizzy with want.

“Don’t make me wait,” you beg, cradling his face so he has to look you in the eye. “Fuck me, please. Please, Declan.”

“Okay, pretty girl. I’ll give ya anything you want. Anything.”

He shuffles around so he’s sat back on his knees, pushing his jeans and underwear down just enough to free himself. You spread your legs as wide as you can, trying to give him as much room as possible. It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself in this position in this car with him - and it won’t be the last.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss you, licking across your teeth with his tongue. “Most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”

He slides into you with ease, both of you gasping at the familiar sensation. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as he holds your hips in a bruising grip, pads of his fingertips biting into your flesh.

Declan doesn’t waste any time, setting a relentless pace that has you bouncing across the seat. The car is shaking like crazy, all the windows fogged up - anyone who passes will know exactly what’s happening inside.

The man above you can read you like a book and play you like a fiddle. He knows the exact angles of his hips that’ll have you keening, the certain spots to focus on that’ll have you seeing stars. He knows you better than anyone, in more ways than one.

“That’s it,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Atta girl. Taking it like you were made for me.”

“Maybe I was,” you breathe, tipping your head back to give him access to your neck. “Just for you.”

He groans all melted and golden like molten honey, the vibrato of it rumbling through your bones. You’re holding onto him for dear life, as if he’s the only thing tethering you to this reality. When his thumb finds your clit to rub firm, slow circles, you’re convinced you’re floating on another plane of existence.

The only word you can seem to formulate is Declan, which only pushes him closer to the finish line. He’s determined to get you there first, angling his hips upward to hit that one spot that has you gasping. When he moves one hand to your throat and gently squeezes, you fall apart instantly, taking him with you.

“I love you,” he breathes as he comes, forehead resting on yours. “My girl.”

You’re shuddering and shaking as you lie underneath him, panting like you’ve just ran ten miles. Declan collapses on top of you, laying his head on your chest comfortably. Your fingers rake through his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp like you’ve done so many times before.

You both allow yourselves to close your eyes for a minute, recovering and attempting to catch your breath. You’re convinced, for a moment, that you’ll never feel more peaceful than you do right now. You breathe each other in, satiated and content.

You finally open your eyes, expecting to see nothing but fogged windows and starlit darkness. Instead, you see a man bending down, looking straight at you. Arguably the worst possible person that could see the two of you in the position you’re in.

Rupert Campbell Black.

He’s grinning like an idiot, shaking his head in disbelief.

You’re about to warn the man in your arms when Rupert opens the car door, slipping himself into the drivers seat and spinning so he’s facing you. Declan has jumped out of his skin, jolting upwards to cover you as best he can.

Rupert smirks all dirty and knowing, eyes dancing over your half naked forms.

“Well, well, well. Secrets out, lovers.”

@graceflorence @dionysus-drabbles

as aaaaaaaalways… reblogs are golden!! they’re the currency of tumblr, my loves. you reblog, and your favourite writers will write you more fics. simple as that. mwah. <3

[mossygirl333]

AN: Okay, first of all, I love your mind @machveil. We all know Service!Top!Simon is the best Simon and I love fluff so much. So here <3

TW/CW: mentions of children and some angst, cursing

You walked around the furniture store, practically mourning the loss of that good table. Yes, it was beautiful and you loved it, but half a goddamn million for it? Hell no.

Your husband trudged alongside you, his hand resting on the small of your back. "We can look tomorrow? See if any other stores have whatcha like?" He tilts his head and you shake yours no.

"But I liked that one..." You grumble, before snapping your eyes back to him. "Do not buy that table Simon Riley. It is way too expensive. We can get a new one but...not in the mood to go anywhere else."

He chuckles, shaking his eyes, a few strands of dirty blonde hair falling into his face. Gentle eyes settling onto you. "You know me too well."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your eyes flutter open to the sound of Simon pulling into the garage, stretching out your poor muscles you slip off the bed. Bare feet touching the cold hard floor as you padded silently to the stairs.

Rubbing your still sore hickey covered neck and pulling down Simon's giant t-shirt, which you used as an impromptu nightgown, you headed down the stairs.

he hasn't come in yet, which was odd, unless their were groceries which wouldn't make any sense..? Your hand reaches for the door and suddenly it swings open, startling you. Blocking the inside with his body, he stares down at you.

"Simon, honey, are you okay?" You try to peak into the garage. But he moves to block your gaze.

"Its a surprise. Will take a long time so you can't use the garage for a bit. I promise it's worth it hun."

You stare at him, slowly nodding as you raise a brow. "What is it?"

He huffs in amusement. "What does 'secret' mean ta ya sweetie?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your husbands warm rough hand covered your eyes, your own feeling around so you didn't bump into anything. A giggle starts to bubble up in your chest. Down the steps carefully, his gentle voice murmuring in his ear.

"Okay...here we are. Ready?" You nod, his hand falling from your face. Eyes flutter open as you gaze upon a new table settled in the dining room.

"Oh...my God. You bought one?" You turn to meet him, raising a brow. "It's gorgeous but how expensive-"

"I made it." He cuts you off, his chest slightly puffed up in pride. A smile starting to bloom on his scarred lips. Your eyes soften and you turn back to the table.

"Really? Oh my...how long did this take you?" Your hands glide over the smooth wood, it was really beautiful.

"Couple months. Learned how to work with wood and made a few knickknacks for ya too."

You cover your mouth and look at him, trying not to cry. "Oh my God....this is so sweet baby." His lips brush underneath your eye, pecking against your cheek and nose before landing on your soft lips.

"Anything for you." He sticks his hand into his pocket, pulling out a tiny duck sculpture. "Thought-" He paused, a vulnerability settling between you. "Thought I could make our babe a few toys. If you ever wanted to have one."

It's not often Simon talks about children. A deep rooted fear of his father tangled in his perception of family, a sickening bile rising up when he thinks about being like that monster.

Letting you down. Letting your baby down. The thorns of his children digging into his soul, tangled up like ivy leafs, unrelenting and tightening. He tried to hide it, but that empty feeling inside throbbed at the prospect of you, giving up any wants of a family to make him happy.

But the truth was, when his mind wandered, during long missions and saferoom escapades, he imagined you with a bundle in your arms. A scrunched up chubby face sleeping nestled inside. Handing it to him. A little girl.

The hands who held weapons, now cradling new life. The stench of death and blood replaced with newborn smell and baby powder. The ringing of bombs, screams of the innocent, and gunfire, transformed into cries and giggles of someone so small exploring.

You stare up at him, gently cradling the figure in your hand, biting your lip. "Looks real good Si." You murmur, kissing his forehead. "I love you."

"I love you more."

[freeabortionslol]

shake it off, babe (a lake house series fic) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pairings: cole caufield x reader, mentions of quinn, jack, luke, and trevor (but there's no dialogue with them) summary: reader feels lonely at the annual lake house party, cole steps in to cheer her up, italics means flashback warnings!! mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, cursing a/n: here's a lake house blurb for all you Cole lovers!! this was a request by an anon :) I love the suggestions so keep em coming!

wc: 2.4k lake house series masterlist

The volume of chatter and music ran high through the lake house, your eyes saddening with every beat of the drum. You sat on the couch, swirling your drink in your hand as you stared at the wall. Jack and Luke were somewhere in the house talking to various women, Trevor was far too drunk to function, and Quinn had to fly home to Vancouver for some emergency with his apartment. You were left sitting alone, missing Quinn more than ever. You pulled out your phone, already beginning to type out a message. 

You: miss ya lots

You sighed, placing your phone back in your lap and taking another sip of your drink. You sank back into your seat, your eyes scanning the room for anyone to talk to, but you didn’t recognize most of the people in the house. It was one of those weird weeks out of the summer where all your girlfriends were busy and couldn’t carve out the time to come to Michigan, so you were left with no one. You could get up and talk to the girls that the guys had invited, but you knew they were only here for whichever player invited them. You’d seen this film before; you walk up to a girl, start talking about something unrelated to hockey, and the conversation always flips to them trying to get you to set them up with one of the guys. Your girlfriends never did that, knowing how truly annoying your little band of hockey players could be at times.  

“Hey, you okay?” Cole asked loudly, planting himself down in the seat next to you. You jolted a bit as you were knocked from your daze, your gaze softening at the sight of Cole.

You nodded your head, gracing him with a half smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed, gently biting his lip as he stared you down. “I know what ‘fine’ means, and it definitely doesn’t mean you’re okay.” 

You sighed, sinking deeper into the couch, feeling the weight of your thoughts pressing on you. "It's just...I miss my friends. My girlfriends," you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended. "It’s weird, you know? Jack, Luke, and Trevor are off doing god knows what, Quinn left, and I'm just sitting here alone." 

Cole's expression softened as he turned toward you, his body language more relaxed. "I get it," he said quietly. "Jack’s always off trying to find his next conquest and Trevor-" He took a moment before continuing. "Trevor’s just over there being a fucking idiot." You let out a soft laugh, glancing over towards Trevor in the kitchen. He was shirtless, wearing a cowboy hat as he wrapped an arm around Jamie Drysdale, almost slipping on the linoleum. 

“Yeah,” You said quietly, taking another sip of your drink. “He’s ridiculous.” Silence draped over the two of you as you returned your gaze to the wall, fiddling with the drink in your hand. Cole let out a soft sigh, taking a look at your sad eyes before sinking in the couch next to you, knees touching slightly. He took a sip of his beer letting his eyes scan the room as the two of you sat in silence. He caught sight of a particular guy, one he’d seen hanging around Luke at various parties like this. The guy wasn’t much taller than Cole, maybe an inch or two, he had blonde hair that was covered by his Michigan baseball cap. Cole had met him a couple times, though it wasn’t enough to remember his name. He remembered the guy being an absolute dick, your typical pretentious hockey play-boy. The guy’s drunk stare was centered on you as you sat there with sad eyes and a pouty lip, clearly upset about something. Cole noticed immediately, his soft gaze turning into a more aggressive stare. Casually, he placed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side. Almost immediately, you leaned your head on his shoulder, assuming Cole was just trying to comfort you from the weight of the night. Cole’s arm around you felt warm and comforting, a subtle distraction from the heaviness in your chest. You breathed in, trying to steady yourself, but the thought of Quinn still lingered. You tried not to let it show, but Cole could sense it. You let out a long sigh, your gaze flicking across the room again, this time landing on the guy with the blonde hair in the baseball cap. He was still staring, his gaze lingering too long for comfort. Your stomach twisted, the feeling of being watched settling over you. You ignored it as best as possible, lifting your head from Cole’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. 

“You wouldn’t rather be talking to all these pretty girl’s instead of slumming it with my sad ass?” You asked, your voice quiet. 

Cole’s brows furrowed as he shook his head. “Nah,” He said, taking another sip of his beer. “Not when I've got the prettiest girl in the room sitting next to me.” You smiled softly, bumping your head against his shoulder before taking it off again. You let out a sigh, picking your phone back up to check for new messages.

quinnifer: Miss you too 🩷 don’t have too much fun without me

You simply turned your phone off and set it back down, not wanting to continue sulking. 

“Hey,” Cole said, tapping your shoulder lightly. You whipped your head to him, seeing that he was looking elsewhere in the room. “Girl in the white top, blue shorts.” He pointed to a girl on the far end of the room. She was sitting in one of the rocking chairs, both of her legs over each arm of the chair as she slouched, looking at her phone. 

You let out a soft giggle, now looking at her as well. “Holy shit. That can’t be comfortable.” Cole laughed along, feeling the vibrations of his chest rising and falling against your skin. 

“‘Have you ever tried this one?’” You and Cole said in unison, quoting the song ‘Juno’ by Sabrina Carpenter, like your brains were intertwined. You both whipped your heads to each other, mouths wide open as you realized you had the same thought. You both doubled over laughing on the couch, trying your best to catch your breath. Cole’s loud, hearted laugh echoed through the living room as you gripped your stomach, tears falling from your eyes. Once the laughter finally began to die down, you wiped your eyes and leaned back into the couch, still smiling. Cole took a deep breath, calming himself, but his grin was still wide, his eyes twinkling with amusement. 

“Man, you’re way too much fun to be sitting around here looking all mopey,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder. 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You always know how to boost my ego, Cole.” 

Cole let out a soft laugh, returning his arm around your shoulders. “That’s my job.” You held up your drink in cheers before leaning back into his touch. “When we finally get married-”

“And, you ruined it.” You interrupted, taking another sip from your drink. Cole groaned in mock offense, letting out a slight snort. 

"Come on, I was getting there!" Cole grumbled, feigning disappointment as he dramatically slouched back against the couch. "You can’t just cut me off mid-proposal, that’s rude." 

You couldn't help but laugh again, your heart feeling a little lighter despite everything. "Oh, was that supposed to be a proposal? Sorry, I didn’t realize I was supposed to say yes." 

Cole’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open in exaggerated shock. "You’re breaking my heart here!" he said dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d just delivered the worst news of his life. "I’m offering you a lifetime of terrible jokes, unsolicited advice, and questionable dance moves, and this is how you repay me?" You laughed again, the feeling of being surrounded by laughter and easy camaraderie easing the knot in your stomach, even if only for a little while. There was something about Cole’s effortless ability to make light of a situation that always made everything feel less serious. In that moment, you realized that maybe this night wasn’t all bad. It wasn’t the same as being with Quinn or Jack, but there was something comforting about having a friend like Cole, someone who could always make you smile when you needed it most. Just as you were relaxing into your spot, taking another sip from your drink, ‘Shake It Off’ by Taylor Swift came over the speakers. 

Cole’s head whipped over to you in a second, his eyes wide as his smile grew. “Oh shit!” He exclaimed.

You giggled, shaking your head at him. “Nuh uh. No way, Caufield.” 

“What? Why?” He groaned. “It’s our song!” You scoffed playfully, your giggles intensifying. 

Two years earlier…

You and Cole sat outside on the back porch, the wind blowing fresh summer air against your cheeks. The whole group had already gone inside after a smoke session. Everyone was sleepy, wanted to pass out as soon as possible, but you and Cole were always the late nighters. Cole was known to be effortlessly funny- the kind of funny that had you lying on the floor almost wetting yourself. You stuck by his side that summer more than you cared to admit, the tension from arguments from Jack causing you to drift away a bit. You and Cole just sat together, talking about random things in the midst of your loopy states. 

“Okay, Okay,” Cole started, brushing off his giggles. “What’s your best party trick?”

You wiped tears from your eyes, something that occurred almost every time Cole opened his mouth. “I don’t have one.”

Cole tilted his head, widening his eyes. “No way. You’re too cool to not have a party trick.” 

You laughed slightly, leaning back in your adirondack chair. “It’s true!” You exclaimed. “Never saw a reason to have one.” 

Cole scoffed, leaning his head against his hand. “Well, I don’t have one either.”

You whipped your head over to him, a stoned thought hitting you like a lightbulb. “We should come up with one.”

“Come up with a party trick?” He asked.

“Yes!” You said loudly. “But like…one that’s together. Something we can only do if both of us are there.” 

Cole sat up, his brows furrowing. “Hm…like what?” You pointed your gaze down at your hands, trying to think. Cole did the same, looking out at the lake as ideas swarmed his mind. “Like a choreographed dance?” 

You turned your head to him slowly, a bright smile on your face. “Exactly.” You whispered.

The two of you spent the entirety of that night strategically choreographing dance moves to Shake It Off. Most of the turns ended in you falling straight into Cole’s arms, stumbling and laughing as he pushed you back up on your feet. By the time the clock hit 5am you and Cole had a brand new party trick that you were both extremely proud of. 

“C’mon, babe!” He groaned, sitting closer to the edge of his seat. “It’s why we created this amazing dance.” He stood up in front of you, placing his beer on the coffee table before extending his hand out to you. “Will this beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, smokin’ hot lady please join me for a dance?”

You smacked your lips, a smile cracking slightly. “Well when you ask me like that, how am I supposed to say no?” A wide grin wiped across Cole’s face as you took his hand, standing up along with him. As you stood, you could feel the playful tension between the two of you, like something was about to unfold. Cole's energy was contagious, his grin impossibly wide as he pulled you gently towards the center of the living room. You could hear the music in the background, the familiar beat of ‘Shake It Off’ starting to fill the space around you. 

"Alright, here’s the deal," Cole said, his voice low and dramatic. "We’ve been practicing this for two years, and if we don’t do it now, it’s gonna be a waste of all that hard work." You laughed, shaking your head as you took your position, mirroring his moves from the countless rehearsals that now felt like a lifetime ago. The excitement in his eyes told you that he was all in, and you couldn’t help but feel the same. Cole threw his hands up in exaggerated excitement. "Let’s go!" The music kicked in, and without missing a beat, you both started the routine. Every move perfectly timed, every spin and shimmy choreographed with surprising precision. You fell into each other’s rhythm effortlessly, recalling the late summer nights spent perfecting this ridiculous but strangely satisfying routine. You twirled, and Cole caught you in his arms, just as he had done countless times before. You both laughed, the entire world outside the living room blurring into the background as you and Cole reveled in the moment. The laughter and joy from your past drifted through the air, only making the experience feel more surreal. As the song’s chorus hit, you both pulled off the final spin and ended it with an exaggerated bow, panting from the fun but smiling like fools. The living room went silent for a brief moment before you both burst out laughing, unable to contain yourselves. 

Cole wiped his forehead, pretending to be out of breath. "See? Told you we were the best." 

You doubled over in laughter, clutching your stomach. "I can’t believe we’re doing this in front of a party of strangers," you gasped between giggles. 

But Cole didn’t care. His grin never faltered as he threw his arm around you, pulling you into his side. "Who cares? We’re having the time of our lives, and everyone else can catch up. You’re welcome, world." 

You shook your head, still laughing. "I swear, Cole, you’re the only person who can convince me to do something so ridiculous and make me actually enjoy it." 

He shrugged nonchalantly, clearly proud of his success. "What can I say? It’s a gift." 

As you both settled back onto the couch, the energy of the moment still buzzing between you, you felt lighter than you had in hours. With Cole by your side, even the heavy moments felt a little easier to carry. 

[death-threats]

Jealousy.

Trafalgar Law x f!reader

cw: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!, 1.3K words, jealousy, possessiveness, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, edging, dacryphilia (if u squint), begging, overstimulation, cum eating, squirting, uhhhhhhhhh general Law brainrot, lmk if i missed anything

It was a quiet night on the Polar Tang, save for the sounds of slick sex reverberating through your shared bedroom. Law's hips slammed into yours with a harsh intensity.

"Gonna keep flirting with Eustass-ya? You know you're all -ngh- all mine." He said, his voice hot and husky in your ear. He has kept you right on the precipice of orgasm for far too long. Your body is aching and trembling. He wants to make sure you learn your lesson tonight.

You moan and whimper as he takes his frustrations out on you. "I...I wasn't fl-flirting!" You manage to rasp out, your chest heaving and throat sore. "I promise!" You plead with a whine.

Law growled and gripped your hips tightly, his eyes narrowing with possessive intensity. "I don't care what you were doing, Y/N. The fact that he's talking to you is enough to piss me off." He continued thrusting into you relentlessly, his pace increasing with each passing moment. "You're mine, and I won't let anyone else touch you.

He leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "You belong to me, Y/N. Say it."

“I belong to you, Law!” You moaned out, clawing the sheets beneath you. “You feel so fucking good.”

Law's grip on your hips tightened even more, his thrusts becoming more intense at your words. He relished in the way you gripped onto the soft cotton for dear life, reveling in the pleasure he was giving you. His voice grew husky with desire as he responded, "That's right, Y/N. Only I can make you feel this good. Only I can satisfy you like this."

He shifted his angle slightly, hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside you with each thrust, knowing exactly how to make you lose control. His pace became almost punishing, his body moving with controlled precision as he pushed you closer to the edge. "You're mine, Y/N. I won't ever let you forget it."

You let out a low whine as he hit that deep spot within you. “Please Law, l-let me cum!” Your abused walls contracted around his unrelenting thrusts.

Law smirked at your pleas, savoring the desperation in your voice. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Not yet, Y/N. You're gonna hold on a little longer. I want you to beg for it."

He continued his relentless pace, his thrusts so deep and powerful that it pushed you towards the edge of pleasure. He wanted to test your limits, to see how far you could go before you broke. His voice dripped with dominance as he commanded, "Beg for it, Y/N. Beg me to let you cum."

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you tried your hardest to obey him. “Please…pl-please! I can’t hold on much l-longer…” you stuttered out, your voice raw and wracked with pleasured sobs.

Law's grip on your hips tightened even more, his thrusts growing more forceful with each passing second. He watched the tears stream down your face, an intoxicating mix of pleasure and submission. His voice softened ever so slightly as he replied, "That's it... Good girl. Just a little longer."

He could feel himself reaching his own edge, the tightness in his core growing with each thrust. But he wanted to see you unravel first. With a final, powerful thrust, he hit that deep spot inside you once again, nudging you towards the precipice of release. "Now, Y/N. Let go for me. Cum. Now."

A string of curses left your lips as you came hard around him, soaking yourselves and the bed with your squirting orgasm. Your were left a babbling, fucked out mess as you convulsed around his cock.

Law's own release hit him like a tidal wave as he witnessed your intense orgasm. He groaned deeply, his hips jerking as he spilled himself inside you, filling you with warm pulses of pleasure. He held onto your hips tightly, riding out the waves of his climax, his body trembling with satisfaction.

He pulled out of you slowly, careful not to bruise you further, and collapsed onto the bed beside you. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, his gaze never leaving your flushed form. There was a mixture of possessiveness and tenderness in his eyes as he spoke, his voice laced with a hint of pride, "You're mine, Y/N, and I won't let anyone else have you."

“All…yours…” you panted between breaths. Your mind was swirling and your body still trembled with the aftershocks of that intense orgasm. You shivered as you felt his hot cum leak out of your abused hole.

Law's gaze turned even more possessive as he watched your trembling form, taking in the aftermath of your pleasure. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the contours of your heated skin. "Good," he murmured in a low, satisfied tone. "Remember, Y/N, this body belongs to me. Every inch of it."

He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead before leaning down, cleaning the trails of his release from your body with delicate strokes of his tongue. His movements were slow and sensual, leaving a lingering sensation of both pleasure and possessiveness. "You're mine, Y/N, in every possible way."

Law's lips curled into a devious smirk. He paused for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on you as he spoke in a voice laced with a mischievous edge, "You know, Y/N, I can be as filthy as you want me to be. Anything to satisfy your dirty desires."

With a swift movement, he positioned himself between your thighs, his eyes locked with yours. His tongue darted out, lapping up the remnants of his cum mixed with your essence. He savored the taste, his expression filled with a mix of hunger and satisfaction. "So sweet," he growled softly, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "You're mine to devour, Y/N."

“Oh shit…” You muttered as you witnessed him eating his own cum from your pussy. He never failed to amaze you with how utterly dirty he could be when the mood struck him just right. You exhaled a breath you weren’t aware you were holding in and bit your lip while you weaved your shaking fingers through his sweaty hair. “I’m always yours…always.”

Law's eyes darkened with a possessive hunger as he felt your fingers threading through his dark locks. He pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh before pulling away and settling beside you on the bed. His voice held a hint of tenderness as he spoke, his gaze fixed on your flushed face.

"That's right, Y/N... Always mine," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of satisfaction and adoration. He reached out, his hand caressing your cheek lovingly. "Remember, I'll always be here to satisfy and protect you."

As he held you close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, Law's protective nature merged with his desire, creating an intoxicating mix of possessiveness and tenderness. And in that moment, you knew that you truly belonged to him, body, heart, and soul.

You took his hand in yours and placed gentle kisses over each one of his finger tattoos. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Law's expression softened further as he watched you shower his hand with tender kisses. He felt a surge of warmth and contentment, knowing that you fully embraced the dynamics of your relationship. His fingers curled around yours, his touch gentle yet firm.

"I'm glad," he murmured, his voice filled with a rare vulnerability. "Having you, and knowing that you belong to me, is everything to me, Y/N. I'll protect you, cherish you, and give you all the pleasure you crave."

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, pouring his emotions and desires into the connection. In that moment, it was clear that you were his obsession, his possession, and his beloved. And he would stop at nothing to ensure your happiness and satisfaction.

[cozy-earthbaby]

3 of a Soul - (part 3)

(Repost)

---

(A/N - Everyone is over 18 to make life easier)

---

Jason was pissed.

There was nothing really else about it.

It started with Replacement.

Jason had asked him the check out a new cafe that had popped up close to his turf that was giving him all the wrong vibes. Just standing outside the place made Jason's skin crawl and the pits go wild. Obviously, there was something wrong with the place, and who beast to sus it out than the most paranoid of the Bats? So far so good. Then Tim kept going back, and not even going back to investigate. No. He was gone for hours in there just enjoying himself and getting unrelated work done.

That really set Jason's mood off.

So, what did he do?

He got Dicky involved.

Who then dragged along Demon Brat.

Surely, they would get to the bottom of what was going on, right?

Wrong.

They had become just as bad as Tim! Dick was even stopping in there as Nightwing before patrols and getting a drink to go. It was getting ridiculous! And it was pissing Jason off to no end.

That's how he found himself standing outside the cursed establishment, swearing to himself as his brothers eagerly pushed him to the door.

"Come on, little wing! This place is great! Just wait till you meet the boys. Danny is a riot! and Pete is such a sweety. They're great!!! Oh. and maybe you'll get to see Ro! They're something else I tell ya! Trust me. You'll love it in there." Dick was clambering on as they neared.

"I swear Dicky. If you make me regret coming here, I'm putting glitter in your shoes." Jason grumbled out bitterly.

"Todd, don't be immature. Danny is harmless, Peter is amiable, and Ro is respectable. There is no need for you to act like a child." Damien chastised in a bored tone.

"Amiable? Respectable? Don't let them hear you say that! You won't hear the end of it." Tim teased out, clearly excited to enter the cafe.

The bell let out a chime as the four of them walked in the door.

Jason immediately felt the pits both rise up and curl into itself. Looking around, he locked eyes with the cause, and the cause looked back. Time seemed to stop, and Jason couldn't take his eyes off the man before him as he approached the counter. He was pale, almost sickly, a tad shorter than Tim but taller than Damien, with impossibly dark hair, eye bags, and the brightest blue eyes Jason had ever seen. His presence both demanded attention and demanded for one to look away. The world froze as their eyes met, eyes matching eyes, the eyes of predators. A lazy grin and a cocked brow rested on the young man's face, looking almost excited. A challenge. A challenge Jason didn't know if he could win. Fear. Jason was seeing green.

"Don't even think about it!" A feminine voice called out, stern and authoritative. From the back came a tall strawberry blonde, standing in what could be described as a 'scolding mom' pose. A handsome young man with chestnut hair and sweet honey doe eyes stood next to them, amused smirk on his face. "Danny. We talked about this."

Like a broken spell, the world returned to normal, not a bit of green to be seen. The pits had gone quiet.

Jason almost felt... at peace.

The young man seemed to deflate into a dramatic sigh. The intimidating aura that was coming from him all but vanished, breaking the illusion of whatever that was.

" But Rooooo! He's perfect! Look at him! Just one little fight, please?? I promise I won't break anything." Danny wined out as he lazily gestured to the group of boys, all but Jason clearly amused.

"No means no, Danny, you heard them! Sorry about Danny, we just got him to stop biting people. Sometimes he forgets." The other boy sang out. His New York accent was strong and playful. The friendly tease caused a snort from Jason's brothers and a dramatic gasp from Danny.

"Petey! 'Att's so unfair! I was just gonna great the guy! Just a little friendly fight!" Danny whined out, flopping onto the other man. "I wasn' gonna be doin anything too crazy! Swear!"

Peter flicked Danny's head, earning a groan. Blinking away his confusion, Jason couldn't help his smile with a chuckle, the two of them were strangely charming how they acted off each other. Dick was right, they were kinda funny to watch. An apologetic smile was sent his way. "Sorry again about that. Name's Peter, this is Ro, and you've met Danny."

"No problem Peter! This is our brother Jason, it's his first time. Jay here heard that we were big fans of the place, and he just had to come with us and check it out!" Dick, by some greater power was ever the social butterfly, decided now was the best time to be laying the charm on thick as he wrapped an arm around Jason. Ro gave a nod before returning to the back. Peter took his place next to Danny behind the counter.

"Nice! Still. Sorry again. Now, what can we get you boys?" The New York accent taking on a friendly, almost playful tone, as his doe eyes crinkled with his smile. The pink on this brother's faces did not go unnoticed by Jason. Interesting.

"The usual for us, Jay will take a Special." Dick said with a wink.

"Awesome! One special order and three regulars coming right up!" Peter rung them up, then dragged Danny to the back, who complained the whole way.

"Tch. Danny is defiantly an idiot. Drake, you need better taste. " Damien said with no real malice.

"He's not so bad once you get talking to him. He's just got some weird thing about trying to fight people right as he meets them. Peter swears it's just how things are back home for him. I don't know. It's kind of funny to see." Tim spoke as his face reddened. Defiantly Interesting.

Jason decided to keep how Danny effected the pits to himself for now.

Guess Jason will be returning to this cafe as well.

---

Tags:

@the-ghost-trader @saphirecross @the-autistic-spider @emeraldcorpral @randomkiddoscrewingaround

[gildedmuse]

Fandom rookie here. Could you please walk me through your Zoro/Law and Zoro/Ace HCs? Love your humor btw!

Ahhh! A little fandom greenhorn! So cute!

You have asked the wrong person the wrong question, newbie.

ZoLaw:

Zoro is from the East, and while he isn't use to Winter Island Cold, he naturally runs hot. Law is from the North and while he HATES being stuck on Summer Islands on hot days, he naturally runs cool. They balance each other beautifully when they share a bed.

Up in the North Blue, it's considered weak to admit that you're cold. Weaknesses gets people killed in the North Blue, so having someone imply you need an extra blanket is a direct insult to a person's ability to keep themselves and their loved ones alive. So obviously Law would never need the extra heat.... But he MAY find himself scooting closer to Zoro-ya on the chillier nights.

The handle of a katana isn't the only thing Zoro can talk around.

...

(Cock. He can talk around a mouth full of cock. And Law LOVES it. Its the only time he can stand one of the Strawhats yapping on).

Look, Law is scientifically minded and likes to believe he is very rational (that's open to debate). He's seen Zoro-ya in the sea and knows he doesn't have a devil's fruit. But sometimes it feels like he does. SPECIFICALLY, one that somehow manages to undo every single one of Law's plans. Because the problem certainly isn't in Law! His plans are complex and perfect. But anytime he comes up for one about how to, say, ask Zoro-ya out it always somehow manages to go terribly wrong. It MUST be a devil's fruit ability.

The first time Zoro actually properly asks Torao out, he first bows to and addresses Kikoku. Since it's imperative he has the curse blades permission to touch his master (especially with all the touching Zoro has planned).

Law doesn't get jealous. That's petty and below him

Law has personally threatened at least three shichibukai and one very (also highly annoying) horny yonko. Not because he was jealous, they just need to step off and stop looking at HIS Zoro-ya that way.

If you ask the boys when they started dating, you get VASTLY different answers. Law would argue that while he'd of course taken notices of the other Supernova back on Saboady, the boy then disappeared for two years and besides Law had a lot of plans that he needed to focus on and execute perfectly. They didn't really see each other again until after Punk Hazard and of course Law was very distracted until after Doflamingo..... Then the horrors they saw on Zou, though, admitedly he may have found himself distracted by Zoro-ya once or twice even at the time.... You know, he would say it was Wano. It was Wano when he realized what an idiot the other boy was, and how he absolutely needed Law on the ground watching after him or he would do something amazingly stupid like... Like listening to Law's plan for instance! When Zoro-ya endangering his life was CLEARLY not what Law intended! Yes, that is when Law decided this boy simply couldn't be considered safe unless Law is there to watch after him..... Also, it's sometimes nice when Zoro-ya looks after him as well.... SOMETIMES.

Zoro would say "Did you see Torao cut that island in half?" And that is all he has to say on the subject of when they started dating.

Law has noticed that Zoro-ya doesn't seem to pay much attention to what he wears, just picks up what is nearest and easiest and throws it on. On an unrelated note, Law has been "accidentally" making sure to strip down right by their bed, and leaving his shirts right there. His shirts with his jolly roger.

Nico Robin had to use not just her ability but her most Teacherly voice in order to separate Luffy and Law when Zoro shows up with the Heart Jolly Roger on his shirt. Law's smirking about it (while Zoro remained utterly confused through the entire fight) didn't help.

Zoro is super weak to people playing with his ear. This goes double when it's Torao and his stupid, sexy hands. He already wants to squirm whenever he watches Torao do that stupid switch-switch thing, but once Torao starts to sit closer and, even while reading his fingers seem to find their way to Zoro's earrings..... Twirl twirl twirl, TUG. Its enough to break Zoro's brain.

Historically, Northern denizens tended to have shorter and much more dangerous lifes compared to the relatively safe and stable East Blue, leading to them having a much different view of things like romance and marriage. That's part of why tattoos are so popular among North Blue denizens. However short your inevitably short life is, a tattoo is permanent. You can't change your mind or take it back. It's a way of wearing your loyalty.

Right behind his ear, the same side as his piercings, Zoro has a small black heart tattoo. He got it on their way up to Wano.

Usopp still doesn't understand how Zoro got lost on a submarine. He didn't see him for a whole four days! What's so funny, Robin.....

I actually have a number of HCs for these two that basically boil down to "Each Island should have its own culture, and by extension, each Blue should have its own culture the way each state has its own culture but the USA also has its own general culture." This can range from things like what I mentioned above, about North Blue having historically shorter lives due to the harsher environment or being more technologically advanced. But I also had smaller things like Law kissing Zoro-ya on the nose, since up North that was how you showed affection to family or younger friends and acquaintances. I also went the entire opposite direction of "smaller" and invented an entirely Shinto derived religion that's customs and kami differed based on the Blue.

I even came up with particular weather that happen almost strictly up North (Ice Storms which are incredibly deadly at sea and Black Mist, a yet unexplained phenomena that seems to choke the life out of any one who gets caught outside) and then wrote up an entire "Old North" mythology that explains the two phenomena and why they often follow each other even though one happens strictly on land and the other typically at sea. I pretty much full on created a whole religion and mythology and wrote individual stories just so Law could have a whole culture that belonged to HIS blue. The myth in question involved a human falling for a siren, and just like actual myths I created multiple retellings and versions where the characterization changed depending on the message the storyteller was trying to express. But in most every version the Siren, Isa, had green hair (because of course the North associates green hair with fertility; oh that's another thing, I created a whole sex profession hierarchy for the North Blue with the one common feature among different types of sex workers being they typically dyed their hair green, like that was a way to physically depict that you were fertile and later that you were, you know, open to being fertilized) and regardless of how they are depicted they end up turning into the shards of an Ice Storm either because they accidentally take human captain's life, do so and then regret their hunger, or are told they have killed them and in turn kill themselves. Law was told the latter version as a child and so always felt bad for Isa, who didn't know they were eating the captain's life force but the crew could have just told him and he would have left and instead because he is "different" they think it's better if he simply destroys himself. It's a character Law can both identify with but also see aspects of Zoro in; both his physical appearance which I'm sure to Law he just pictures Zoro now, but also in his loyalty and honor which aren't as important values up North which instead values survival and strength.

As you can see if I presented an accurate list of my HCs for these two, it would be insane and make no Earthly sense. I just really enjoy world building, especially when that world building leads to two hot sword boys pining after one another.

Oh, did I mention the whole "green hair = sex worker" association and just how personally All Hearts Law takes that when applied to his Zoro-ya?

Yeah.....

ZoBurn FistRo PortZoro

ZoAce:

Upon meeting him during Alabaster, every single non Luffy Strawhat was - at least a little -totally into Ace. He just seemed so cool (and also hot.) He's like a sexy Luffy and the whole crew wanted some.

Zoro wanted it the most, bitches

[hollowwrites]

In the Light of the Relic

Ominis x MC

Summary - Yay alternative universes!! This is a reversal of the Shadow of the Relic quest where everything goes tits up! THIS IS WHAT WE COULD HAVE HAD!!

This is continuing my “What if there was a relationship system and you side with Ominis” BS

Also I just believe I could save Seb. Not with words I think I should be able to slap the sense out of him. It’s always effective.

This is already in my ‘Blindsided’ series but I understand if not everyone wants to read chapters of waffle

Warnings - Mentions of death, cussing, Crucio, angst, sad (Why do any of us like Seb and Omi?)

Word Count - 2199

~

This was it.

This is how she was going to die.

The Sorting Hat was certainly correct when it placed her in Slytherin. Pride was going to be her downfall.

After Sebastian had called her ignorant she refused to speak to him outright. Even when she desperately needed his help, like now, for example.

She sat back against a desk she had upturned in desperation for cover, flinching every time a spell ricocheted off the flimsy wood, sending splinters flying everywhere. Grimly, she thought how long it would take for them to find her body or if she’d attended the school long enough to become one of its ghostly residents. Everything went quiet when one the Ashwinders’ had rounded the desk, wand drawn.

“Thought you could outsmart us with a desk did ya?” He shoved the tip of his wand sharply to her forehead.

“Worked for a while” she laughed humourlessly before throwing a basic cast at his face. Her hand fell limply to her side, clutching at the gash caused by a Diffindo earlier in their fight

“Oh you bitch…Crucio”

Hot white pain ripped through her chest and radiated all of her body. The ringing in her ears was indistinguishable from reality and she couldn’t tell if it was actually happening or if it was part of the torture.

Oh this was different than when Sebastian had cast it.

This was unrelenting.

She tried to blink through it but her eyes remained unfocused. Shallow and unfulfilling breathes failed to fill her lungs as she gasped for air. How long had she been screaming for? Was that why her throat stung or was that also the curse? Her fingernails filled with dirt as she grasped for her wand.

Merlin, she wished Sebastian was here.

Or Ominis.

He’d been so tender with her after Sebastian had cast it on her. She could really use those reassuring words right about now. Or a second wand in this fight. She squeezed her eyes shut hoping to assuage some of the pain. An unpleasant pressure surrounded her. Not painful just, odd. But when it ceased so did some of the pain. Not completely, the Cruciatus Curse still emanated from her chest where the spell had struck. She gulped at air for the first time in what felt like hours, gasping at the sensation of air scraping down her throat.

“What on earth are you playing at?!” Ominis’ harsh tone shot at her “Oh…”

“Ominis?” She cried flailing outwardly, unable to focus her eyes on her surroundings. She crawled toward his voice, padding at the floor.

“I’m here, what has happened?”

She didn’t reply.

She grasped at his robes as he got closer, pulling his body down to hers, a soothing hand circling her back.

“We need to…get out of here” she grabbed at his forearms insisting he to listen to her.

“Don’t speak. Just relax it’ll be over soon”

“No…Ominis…dangerous, can’t…be here anymore”

“Evelyn…” he took her face in his hands willing her to look at him “You’re in Hogwarts. I don’t know how you apparated here but you’re safe. We can talk soon just…relax”

“….Crucio….” She whimpered

“I know” he pulled her back to his chest rocking her slightly back and forth, mumbling into her hair “I know”

It took a few minutes for the pain to alleviate enough for her to collect her thoughts. Her breathing now returning to something of normality, she heaved herself up and off Ominis. He remained kneeling on the floor next to her, hands outstretched still in case she needed the support.

Finally being able to take in her environment she struggled against what it told her.

“How did I get here?” She said voice ragged still. Her eyes settling on the bed she leaned against, it’s bright green sheets indicating she’d found herself in the boys dorm of the Slytherin Common Room. “I remember thinking …you were kind the last time…I wanted to see you”

“I don’t know, you must have apparated. Gave me quite the fright” he breathed humourlessly “But people can’t apparate into, or out of, Hogwarts. It has defensive charms stopping that sort of thing.” His mouth hung open as though he were going to continue. His eyebrows practically fused together in worry “Forget all that for a moment. How are you feeling?”

“Better” is all she managed. She watched his face shift ever so slightly. His brow still hard and knitted together, his eyes darkened in their deep sockets.

“Who?” He murmured through clenched teeth “Who cast that on you…again?”

“Some Ashwinder, but that…Ominis it felt different to when Sebastian cast it on me…” her eyes filled with tears imagining the pain once again. As though he could see the tears threatening to overflow, he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. Once she took it, his hand found it’s way to her shoulder, rubbing small circles with his thumb comfortingly across her collarbone.

“Intent matters with The Unforgivables. Though it is true you have to mean them you can do so in different ways. Sebastian’s was a means to an end this…Ashwinder…wanted to hurt you” his jaw was tight “What were doing out there alone?!” He chastised her, failing to hide the pain in his voice.

She felt the anger from Sebastian once again, followed by the dawning horror that she hadn’t told Ominis a thing. Because Sebastian and Ominis were a package deal, she had inadvertently ignored Ominis this whole time.

It was about time he knew everything anyway. Sebastian was doing some stupid things and she’d promised him that after collecting that relic it would be the end of it all. But Sebastian was falling harder and faster than anticipated even on matters unrelated to Anne. She told Ominis everything. Her abilities with Ancient Magic, the Keepers, the Triptych, everything Fig and Sebastian would rather she not spread around. At some point during her confession he’d guided her to sit on his bed. He held her hand the entire time, reassuringly, nodding sagely and just, listening. Every other time she’d told people about this they, rather unfairly challenged her on everything, like she had any answers. She knew they meant well, but having someone just listen to her for once, really shone a light on just how overwhelmed everyone else had made her feel. When she stopped speaking for a while, finished with her monologue, Ominis squeezed her hand.

“Thank you for keeping your word and telling me about Sebastian. I’m really sorry if I seem selfish, Truly I am interested in your Ancient Magic and whatnot…”

“But you’re worried about Sebastian”

“…Yes” he sighed

“It’s fine. It’s why I told you. I’ve wanted to tell you all of this it’s just very overwhelming. This time last year I didn’t even know magic existed and now-“

“It’s okay” his hand giving hers another squeeze

“I’m scared for him, Ominis” her voice barely a whisper

“I…have an idea”

That night they found themselves at the Sallow residence. Solomon was away finding work so it was just Anne, Ominis and Evelyn. They told Anne everything unsure of how much she was actually aware of. She didn’t even seem upset, just tired. And considering this was all for her, she seemed done with it all.

“Why is he doing this, Ominis” she said flatly, her curled eyebrows betraying her sadness.

“He loves you. He just has a…ludicrous way of showing it” Ominis patted Annes shoulder.

The plan was to just outright confront Sebastian and make him see Anne wanted none of this. Anne had wrote to Sebastian asking them to meet and to bring all of his research. If push came to shove, they were going to destroy it all. If he hated them, he hated them. It’s the risk they all agreed to take. A few days were spent at the Sallow Household before Sebastian finally arrived.

“Sorry I took so long, I had to-“ he stopped briefly when he saw Ominis and Evelyn sat at the dinner table with Anne “-make some arrangements. What’s going on?” He continued, eyes narrowing and tone becoming sharper. Anne stood, shakily at first, but she knew what was at stake. She smiled at her brother sweetly before outstretching her hands.

“Can I see the research?” She asked plastering on a dainty smile

“Why are they here?” He barked

“Research. Now. Sebastian” she barked back, her charade now completely gone. Ominis stood, wand in hand. Not unusual for the blind boy but something about the way his hand wrapped around it’s handle made Evelyn uneasy. He shifted slightly around the table positioning himself in front of Eve.

Sebastian reluctantly handed over Salazar Slytherins Spell-book and the relic recently recovered. She took them both and pottered back to the table, her breath slightly laboured as she sat back down next to Eve.

Annes eyes darted over the pages quickly, a trait both her and her brother shared, more than likely inherited from their parents. She rubbed at her forehead taking in the words on the pages in front of her.

“This is-“

“Incredible isn’t it?” Sebastian chimed in almost giddy. Ominis shifted once again between Sebastian and the girls. Eves’ eyes flashed between the two boys. Sebastian didn’t seem to notice Ominis at all.

“Disgusting, Sebastian” Anne finished “I want no part of this” he looked distraught.

“But Anne…this could save you” he pleaded

“I don’t need saving!” She raised her voice “I’m sick of being treated like a victim. Damn it Sebastian, you’re supposed to love me unconditionally”

“But this isn’t you”

“It is now” her chest heaved from the heartbreak in her words mixed with the pain she was almost flawlessly masking

Something shifted in Sebastians face. Any trace of hurt melted away and was replaced with something dark. Eve recognised the look from when he’d cast the Imperious Curse on that goblin. He stood up straight, shoulders squared off and jaw clenched.

“Give me back the book” he demanded. This prompted Ominis to not-so-subtly shift once more. He raised his wand, pointing it towards Sebastian, and took a step forward

“No” Anne replied closing the book and clutching it to her chest. Evelyn picked up the Relic off the table and pocketed it, in case Sebastian tried to make a move for it. Sebastian chuckled darkly, looking around at his ‘friends’.

“You know, I could just take it from you. Give. It. Back” Each word he took a step towards Anne, not taking his eyes off her.

That worked to their advantage.

He didn’t noticed Ominis, seething beside him and approaching, hand outstretched, to find Sebastian’s neck. He pushed him against the wall by his throat, angrily pressing his wand deep into the skin at his temple.

“Sorry Sebastian. I have the monopoly on family trauma so I suggest you apologise to your sister” Ominis spoke through his teeth causing his words to come out as a hiss. Sebastian grunted as he struggled against his best friend. He reached for his wand but was halted in his tracks.

“Arresto Momentum” Evelyn snapped now standing, hand over Anne willing her to stay out of it. A deep irritated growl rumbled from Sebastian, struggling more. “Remember who you’re doing this for”

“Stay out of this” Sebastian shouted back at her. Ominis scoffed, flexing his fingers against Sebastian’s neck.

“Do you have any idea what you’re risking here?” Ominis spat twisting his wand deeper into his flesh “This is it now. This is the family you have left and you’re jeopardising it for some imaginary life you don’t know you can obtain.”

Anne gasped suddenly clutching her chest. The pain from the curse rearing it’s ugly head. Sebastian’s face softened as he watched his sister double over in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut unwilling to watch anymore.

“This is ending tonight, Sebastian. One way or another” Evelyn spoke not looking at him. She was attending to Anne holding her up as she screamed into her chest. Ominis felt Sebastian swallow thickly under his hand.

“Take…the book a-and the relic far from me. Let me go to my sister” all fight left him in an instant. His shoulders slumped and head rested back on the wall Ominis still held him against.

“Evelyn, grab them” Ominis instructed. Dispite not seeing, his eyes wouldn’t leave Sebastian.

“I don’t want to leave her al-“

“I’m okay” Anne’s words ripped straight from her chest, a deep guttural groan following her words “I’ve had worse” she smiled. With her permission, Evelyn took the book from the floor where it fell and patted her pocket to ensure the relic was still in there from earlier. She shuffled to Ominiss’ side, who only now released Sebastian, a deep indentation marking his temple. He instantly bolted for Anne, throwing his arms around her and sobbing.

“Let’s go, now!” Ominis barked taking Evelyn’s hand and dragging her out of the house. With his wand directing him he headed straight for the Feldcroft Floo Flame.

“Do you think we did the right thing?” Evelyn asked panting, a light jog forming as she tried to keep up with Ominis

“I…don’t know…”

Masterlist

[pan-fried-autism]

The North Experiment Part 4: Like Prey in a Trap

Characters: Swap!Grem, Swap!Jack, Swap!M0u5e, Swap!Nikolai (@bowlerhatwearer)

Summary: It seems like Grem and Jack's game of tag has come to an end.

TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Stalking, like a boatload of horrible obsessive behaviour, attempted kidnapping, and murder + death. You have been warned.

Grementine was frozen in place. The cold gales of wind blowing from the doorway were practically heavenly compared to the current situation.

How did he find her here? She hadn't made any actual indication she was leaving. Hadn't mentioned it to him last week when he come over with that stupid pearl bracelet. Hadn't even posted about it, since she kept having to block Jack's sockpuppet accounts. The only people she had told were her coworkers.

Jack kept staring down at her, smirk still on his face, waiting for a response.

Ok, ok, what should she do? There wasn't really any way to get help. M0u5e. M0u5e, yeah, she should get him somewhere safe first.

Grem turned to the robot, who still watching the movie.

"M0u5e, go to the bedroom now." she said to him, quickly and urgently.

The tone of her voice brought M0u5e out of her trance.

"What--"

"M0u5e."

M0u5e was about to say something else, but its eyes flicked over to their visitor. Within a second, it was pausing the movie and awkwardly scurrying off to the bedroom, shutting the door behind it.

Grem breathed a sigh of relief, though it was immediately nulled once she faced Jack again.

"H... How did you find me here?" she asked him, voice shaking.

"Eh, wasn't too hard." Jack replied, looking off to the side. "All I knew was that a friend of mine wasn't able to go to the local pub tonight, seeing as she had to cover a coworkers' shift."

He turned to face Grem again, smirk deepening into a menacing smile. "Kaia thinks you're strange, you know that?"

Wha-

Oh.

... That connects some dots.

Jack shook his head a bit, and closed the door behind him. "Whatever. The important thing is, you don't have to run anymore."

The cats eyes widened, and her eyes flattened down. She started to slowly take a few steps back. Jack matched her movements, walking closer to her each time.

Shit, she thought, this is bad, REALLY bad. What do I even do???

Jack was still talking, his facade of cold indifference already slipping a bit.

"It's been a real pain dealing with ya, kitten. Always on the lookout for something I need that just keeps slipping out of my grasp! Even changing your name to something dumb. You've always tried to make it hard for me."

Fuck you, the name change was unrelated, Grem spat at him within her thoughts. She was still backing away from him, Jack still approaching.

Finally, Grem felt herself bump against the counter, a sensation that skyrocketed her heart rate. DAMN IT! She was cornered! She could see Jack's face twisting a little into something between a grimace and a wide grin.

Strings of curses and profanities whipped through her mind as she desperately thought of possible ways to escape. Her hands fumbled around the counter and brushed against the handle of one of the drawers.

An idea sprang forth-- a knife! She could stab him somehow!

Grem started speaking gibberish a little loudly, like "Ah, uh, Jack-- you-- uh..." and fumbled with the handle behind her, trying to open the drawer and search for a knife, or really anything sharp.

Unfortunately, Jack had came prepared.

Seeing the cats hands at the drawer, he quickly moved his arm and hand around Grem to the base of her neck, and in one swift motion, Grem was off the ground, held by her scruff.

Now was when she was really, truly trapped.

Panic filled Grems mind and spread throughout her being. She felt her limbs go numb, being limp and unmoving no matter how hard she tried. She begged at least an arm to move, to slash Jack's face, to do something.

Jack watched the fear and panic in Grem's face grow and grow, and chuckled with a horrible delight, muttering "silly kitty" to himself.

The hare walked away from the counter (still holding Grem), and stood in the living room, near a wall. He said nothing for a few seconds, before looking back at Grem and raising his eyebrow callously.

"You know..." he started,

"I don't know why you won't give me another chance. I always try and check up on you. And I bring you nice gifts I think you'll like. Hell, I even left you alone for a while when you 'needed it.'"

He looked away from Grem again, eyebrows now furrowing.

"... and yet, you don't appreciate or care about one god damn second of it." he hissed in her face, malice coating every word.

Grem said nothing, too scared to make a sound.

Jack continued.

"You can't bring yourself to care when someone else does. Not in high school, not five years ago, not even now when I come for a visit. You've KNOWN this is all I ever wanted, especially with YOU, and you don't give a shit. I mean, I guess I can give you a pass, considering... y'know.

"But now I got you where I want you. And I'm not letting you go this time."

His deep, angry frown was curling up into a wide, toothy grin, his eyes widening and staring deeper into Grem, whose eyes were spilling tears.

Quickly his expression changed to a more neutral one, though you could see the hidden rage if you looked at him for more than a second. He took a deep breath before speaking yet again.

"Now, Claire-bear, here's what we're going to do.

"I'm going to put you down on the couch, and I'm going to pack up your belongings. We're going to walk back to the parking lot, we're getting into my car, and I'm driving us back to the house.

"And finally--" he looked off past Grem, a wistful expression forming-- "FINALLY, we'll be able to spend our lives together.

"Got that, kitten?"

Grem said nothing, trying to form words through the cloud of tears and hatred, and the lump in her throat, though both eventually went away.

"Jack," she snapped at him, " I'm not going anywhere with y--"

Jack quickly lunged forward and slammed Grem against the wall, which caused her to yowl.

"Got that, kitten?" he repeated fiercely, not even bothering to hide the 10 years of pent up fury within in being.

Combined with the fear and newfound pain in her back and head, a new feeling came over Grem-- despair. She really couldn't get out of this, could she? No internet, no phone in the cabin, miles away from everyone else, and the only other person anywhere here was waiting for her to come over TO him. What could she do?

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she finally whispered, "... Yeah."

Jack's expression changed to neutral once again, and he smirked, pleased with the outcome. "That's what I thought." he quipped.

Jack removed her from the wall and carefully placed her on the couch, bending down to meet her eyes.

“Stay here, and don’t move. I’ll know if you do.” He stated.

He quickly got back up straight and walked to the bedroom door, opening it and going in.

Grem sat down on the couch for a while. Maybe 15 minutes or so.

She sat down and felt the feeling return to her limbs, and she heard Jack opening and closing things, occasionally saying something unintelligible to himself. She heard M0u5e, he was evidently talking to Jacks, saying things like “What are you doing in here?” and “Why are you taking that, Jack?”

She never heard any response.

Jack also went through the kitchen and combed through the cupboards, taking anything he thought was Grems or just thought was needed. So enraptured in the task at hand that he barely noticed anything going on inside or outside the house.

Grem sat for 15 long, long minutes, and felt the life she had built for herself crumple away.

Eventually, Jack had two suitcases and a bag of odds and ends packed. He put one down before grabbing onto Grem’s hand and yanking her onto her feet. The cat stumbled a little before Jack gave her one of the suitcases.

Jack was smiling. Was one of those smiles that never quite reached your eyes. A smile so sweet, it seemed rotten.

“Excellent. This is going good so far,” he remarked to the both of them. He cleared his throat, and spoke again.

“Now, Claire-bear, I'd say it's about time we get ready and get our coats on and stuff. That way we can safely get down the mountain and the snow. You ready to go, wifey?"

She couldn't respond. There were way too many things, awful things running through her mind. One in particular stood out, however.

"... What about M0u5e?" she murmured.

The hare's expression changed to one of confusion. "Uh.. what about it?"

"What are we doing about M0u5e?" Grem implored, anxiety creeping into her tone.

Jacks brow furrowed a little, not in anger but in thought. Seems like he didn't factor the little robot into his plan. After about a minute of thinking, he simply shrugged and responded, "Tell it we'll be back in a bit. I'll be waiting here."

Oh. So we abandon her. That's fantastic. Grem brooded in her thoughts.

Defeated, she turned to go to the bedroom, but something happened that caused both her and Jack to freeze.

There was a knock at the door.

Jack eyed the door. There was no window or even a peephole to see out of. Who in Gods name was that?

Looking back at Grem with distrust in his eyes, he slowly made his way over to the kitchen counter. A drawer was opened, and Grem could hear his hands rummaging through its contents, bumping against woods and metals.

Eventually, Jack closed the door and let out a frustrated grunt, and opened the next one.

Another knock at the door.

She could see his shoulders tense for a moment, then relaxing as he went back to rummaging through the drawer a bit faster than the first. It didn't take long before he pulled out his prize--

A knife. A Chef's knife, specifically. It looked a little old, but it didn't look blunt.

Shit.

A look of triumph on his face, Jack headed back over to the front door. He turned to Grem and held a finger up to his mouth, making a shooshing noise. Hiding the knife behind his back, he opened the front door...

A figure was standing there, in ratty old winter wear.

He was recognizable to only one person in that cabin.

Jack was going to greet him, but his words stopped in their tracks as he took in the sight of... whoever this is.

"... Who the he--"

A dry, bony hand was clasped around his throat, and faster than he could percieve, he was about 15 feet in front of the house. The shock of the cold hit him before the shock of the situation.

The hand around his throat brought him down to face level with whoever (or whatever) had attacked him. The hood on his head covered most of his face, but what he could see was a pale, flaking chin and an angry frown, plus a faint blue glow from under the hood.

From that frown came the coldest voice Jack had ever heard.

"It seems you have overestimated the value of your life, Harris."

After that, all Jack could feel was an absolute, piercing freezing sensation. Until he felt nothing at all.

.......

Nikolai watched the flash frozen body of the hare plummet to the ground, fluffing up the fresh snow around it.

Good. That's one thing off his bucket list.

It only took a second or two for him to turn his attention to the cat in the cabin, though, and he quickly went over to the front entrance, getting as close as he could without being affected by the warmth within (though considering the amount of cold air blowing inside, he could get pretty close).

"Dr. Mewton, are you okay? Did he hurt you?? What on earth happened?!" he spluttered to her, worry creasing his face beneath the hood of the coat.

In the doorway standing there, a frazzled Grementine found herself unable to respond.

She stood taking deep breaths with every second, shivering but not just from the cold.

Neither said anything for a while.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (iv)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.

“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch. 

They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.

It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.

“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”

“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”

“I pulled myself out of the case.”

“I thought you were having fun.” 

Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”

Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-

His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was. 

It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.

“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them. 

“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.

“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.

Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest. 

“What?”

“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”

Steve and he look at each other.

“Well?” Steve prods. 

Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.

The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist. 

There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free. 

Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing. 

The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack. 

“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.

There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel. 

“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously. 

“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”

“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.” 

The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky. 

“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”

He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it. 

“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”

“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”

Of course.

“The staff?” he asks again. 

“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”

“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”

You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper. 

Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.

Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.

“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”

“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.

“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.

“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”

His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?

He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.

“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back. 

“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.

If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.

New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.

“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”

Your grip on the gun falters.

“If I let him go...”

“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”

You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.

“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house. 

“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”

Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.

He expects blood to be splatter across his face.

Nothing happens.

A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.

“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”

The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.

The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.

“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.

“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Where is the agent assigned to your case?” 

“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”

Bucky’s nose twitches. 

“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t. 

“I could have.”

“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats. 

“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”

“You held someone hostage as leverage.”

“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”

“You’re evil.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”

He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it. 

“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects. 

“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.

You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.

“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.

He only watches you leave.

It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.

He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over. 

It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.

Next part 

[owo--bot]

Loyal as a Dog // Sanzu x Reader

Masterlist:

Chapter 31: Cycle of Decay & Departure

wc: 9.5k

cw: arguing, angst, unhealthy/toxic behavior, cursing, plot progression

an: it's a doozy! Also, I hate tumblrs line spacing jfc it’s so ugly T^T

Let me sink into you.

No, it's not like that I swear.

You won't feel it.

Don't look at me with those eyes.

It's like you hate me.

You don't hate me, do you?

Tell me you love me,

Show me you love me,

This body is vulgar without it.

Trust me,

You haven't seen desperation yet—

—I haven't seen desperation yet.

I hear each bond cracking and mending.

What is this awful melody?

It’s the cycle of decay and departure.

It’s a world in which every rope frays.

My hands burn from tugging, so I take breaks to let go.

-

There comes a time in every business owner's life where they ask; why am I doing this?

Today was that day.

Or it would be that day, but the owners of fast food corporations live in a utopia separated from the average human filth. Instead, they hire some chump who wants to eat. It's a simple process. When they win that moron over with a penny and free sandwich for good measure, they hand over the keys and say something like: make this thing work, good luck. Although, since the fast food gods are such celebrities, they have their underlings hand off the keys to the lowerlings.

With that unnecessary and accurate explanation out of the way, we've reached the why factor. Why did it take until now for this fast food overseer to question this utopian job? Simple.

Teenagers are terrifying.

Their entry is an omen.

Smart overseers knew to quit while they still had a wife and kids. Coincidentally, this overseer must not need either, because fifteen omens were in his lobby. Somewhere along the line, they pushed a bunch of tables together. Frankly, the overseer stopped caring long ago—possibly since birth. As long as the omens didn't steal his retirement money, they could be loud and inconvenient to a moderate degree.

Side by side, the first division yapped amongst themselves. It wasn't often that everyone ate out like this and today was as odd a day as any. While there was an ongoing collective conversation, there were also individual ones. Out of many and obviously superior in all ways, one focused on a topic of life and death circumstances.

“Mr. Sanzu said I’m too immature. So, that must mean he only likes mature women,” you complained, teary-eyed and frantic, as you shuffled your trash around. “Right Mr. Baji?”

"Yeah, looks like you’re outta luck," he answered, unrelenting as ever.

“Do ya think he’ll love me if I’m an adult?”

“Couldn't tell ya, even if I wanted to.”

“I bet he would—but that's a super long time from now.” You tore at your hair. “Do ya think I still have a chance if I'm not an adult?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he yawned, putting his canines on display. “No harm in knowing when to quit.”

"Nobody likes a quitter, Mr. Baji."

"Yeah? Well nobody likes try-hards either."

"Uh-huh, they're even worse than murderers and weather-men. I bet no one would miss them if they were suddenly… I dunno, gone forever? But only the ones who tried too hard to be born any year before me. Minus kids." Radiating an immaculate air, your smile conveyed the end of all human suffering. "Leaving only the disgusting try-hard scum older than twenty to never be seen again."

Half of mankind just made the worst enemy.

If we're being honest, it's their fault for existing in the first place.

Your villain origin story blossomed within a fast-food chain.

"Bark all you want, they're not going anywhere." Baji grinned and sent you forward with an aggressively chummy slap on the back. "A small fry like you would end up getting bagged up instead."

……

You laughed in response while simultaneously sinking.

There was no denying its presence.

Everything seemed the same, but not.

It was off.

Baji was 'off'.

You could feel it. Feel what?

His tone of voice? The same.

His facial expressions? The same.

His engagement? The same.

His mannerisms? Once again, the same.

Everything was the same. Except it wasn’t.  

Baji occasionally chimed in to each conversation while sporting an iconic grin. He looked happy but…

Absorbed in ‘what’s off’ thoughts, you stared down the raven haired delinquent as though he were an adult.  

“What?” Baji asked.

You shook your head and smiled. “Not a thing.”

“If you got something to say, then say it.”

Repetitive in nature, the first occurrence was May.

October brought out the worst of it.

But October was the same.

So who's to say what 'off' really is, other than

—bad.

“Do ya hate me, Mr. Baji?”

“Where the hell’d you get that idea?” He scratched the back of his head. “Everything’s fine, ain’t it?”

“Tell me, do ya hate me?”

“I don't hate you, if I did you'd know.”

“I think ya do,” you said, bordering on accusatory.  

“I don't, but if you don't knock this shit off, I might.”

The balancing act Baji was performing abruptly ended as the two elevated legs of his chair slammed back down to planet earth with a clack. The death of his casual tilt signified playtime had transcended into shut-the-hell-up time while irritation progressed to smear atop his features.

“My bad.” You scratched at your cheek, attempting to cover up the blunder with a smile.

There was no logic behind it, only

—emotion.

“Then… is something wrong?” You asked.

“Nothing I’m aware of.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What, you having trouble listening today? I said nothing, now stop asking.”

“Bummer.” You shot him a sinister grin. “I was hoping I could make ya slip up.”

“Hate to disappoint you but I got nothing to slip up on, so drop it.”

“‘Kay, since ya asked nicely, I will,” you taunted sweetly.

Baji furrowed his brow, looking ready to feed into your statement at any second. Instead, he opted to be the bigger person.

What a fine captain.

A role amongst models.

To function effectively as a unit, examples need to be set. Today, Baji decided to set a good example. Although if it were any other day, you'd be under verbal fire by now. Technically, still a good example; it’s called don’t egg on what can kill you.

Baji’s cup, aside from being empty, was being siphoned to call upon the obnoxious melody of: it’s ice. Just ice and maybe a few drops of melted ice. If it’s that dire, then fill it back up. Refills are meant to be free, even if they aren’t.

Baji sucked the skeletal remains out of his drink.

Straws are weapons of loud destruction.

Once that noise complaint of a distraction was out of the way, he focused his undivided attention to an ongoing distraction.

“You got something against your trash?” Baji asked.

“Meow—happy way early birthday.”

Amidst the tray of so-called trash was an amateur adaptation of a cat's face. With some fries here, some condiment cups there, a few fragments of plastic from a fork to spice things up, it was trash turned to treasure.

Arts and crafts, but make it fast food.

“Even if this is the best present anyone will ever give ya for the rest of your life, ya still gotta pretend you're happy when other people give ya inferior ones.”

Baji stared and opened his mouth to speak but instead, his head fell back in laughter.

Booming laughter.

The sound barrier was in danger of shattering.

“That's some real talent you got there.” He let out in hysterics, as if he'd never drawn something strikingly similar in pre-k. “You sure you don't wanna sell it off instead?”

“I'm not built for fame Mr. Baji. It's all yours.”

“That's too bad. You might've made enough to pay for your own meals for once.”

"Pass. I won’t be corrupted by currency.”

“Doubt you ever need to worry about that since you’re already corrupted by freeloading.”

"I chose my evil, but the scale can always tip." You shook your head in reflection. "Yup, that's a thought I lose sleep over."

"Man, you're gonna be the worst kinda person in a few years."

After staying well past food consumption recreation, a noisy group was on the move. Passing through the gates of all that is fast food, October greeted you through a pleasant breeze.

Right, there was still time to enjoy being alive before the next extreme season arrived. Since the reign of fire and pop sticks met an end, the reign of hypothermia and underage drinking would soon return. You were in good hands until that apocalypse of a season returned to cast hell upon those with borderline busted heaters. Autumn, aside from having good hands, was well mannered. Though its lifespan may be short, it existed for the purpose of one-upping its winter and summer brethren.

It didn’t have to try hard. Those guys were the worst.

In your current state, you were unfit for the upcoming activities. Wording it like that might be misleading, but meetings are still a form of activity. In a few hours, the entirety of Toman minus Baji would meet at Musashi Shrine.

First, you needed to hitch a ride home and say goodbye to your street clothes and hello to your uniform.

Tailing behind one of your squad mates got put on hold as the role model captain called out to you. Despite standing only a few steps away from the fast food empire, it was all the distance you needed to produce a manuscript of five hundred reasons as to why Baji wasn’t allowed at meetings.

He was a few steps too slow for his own demise.

“Sorry, but Mr. Baji's not allowed to go. I wonder if it's 'cos-”

“Go somewhere else,” he cut through.

Being the bigger person came with a time limit.

Coincidentally, that time limit just ended.

Verbal fire was never actually called off, only postponed.

“What, are ya sick of looking at my face today?”

“I'm not in the mood to play around. I'm telling you to go live somewhere else.”

“Huh?” Lost in translation, a blankness spread across your features. “Why would I do that?”

“Simple, because I told you to,” Baji said, bending words in an all but persuasive manner. “You don’t need any other reason.”

“No.”

Outright refusal.

Some took it better than others. Who they were would remain a mystery because the others in question would rather burn everything to the ground. Baji, despite being a role amongst models, didn't take it well.

“What part of that sounded optional to you?”

You kicked the toe of your shoe against the cement and looked up at the hellpath human.

When in doubt, tune a burning world out.

“The part where I said no.” You let out a phew of relief. “Now that we got that settled-”

“We won't have shit settled until you get away from that guy.”

With all of humanity leaving that prior disaster in the past, the present lies in wait for the next catastrophe. They didn't have to wait for long because, after a quick evaluation; it came to your attention that the radius around Baji transitioned into a flammable hazard zone. On its own, it wasn't a major threat and came with a simple remedy. Just throw a few dozen water parks over that has-been hazard and it'll be a danger to the public for generations to come. But just think how grateful the generations after that will be, so long as it didn't kick-start the death of mankind first.

“Oh. It’s about Mr. Sanzu again…” You pondered the ground for a moment. “I think ya need to get over it already,” despite the delivery, malice played no part—pure intentions offered advice to a friend.

No matter the intention, it comes down to perceptions. Because no one intended on dousing the flammable zone in gasoline, but these things happen, so perceive that they didn't. Better yet, perceive Baji as five notches above irritated and every dangerous comparison up until this point will be resolved.

Route unlocked: Emotions Minus Catastrophe.

—GOOD END.

“Did you forget who you’re talking to?”

“I’m talking to Mr. Baji.” You smiled. “But I think he’s feeling cranky today since Chifuyu ate all of his fries. I know ya would never say something like that with a clear head.”

“That's funny, because I am.”

Baji's typical grin remained absent.

That expression shouldn't be for you.

While the universe may not have been a natural born gambler, it knew to fully invest in what was about to transpire. The stars aligned to showcase the most unproductive conversation in all of human history. For nothing good comes from having firm beliefs, besides the free entertainment it provides for those with flimsy beliefs.

Transcending 'nothing good'; unbridled disaster comes from thinking genocide can be eradicated through explaining why it's bad. On the other hand, starting something is always easier than ending it. In this case, genocide can be achieved by explaining why it's bad even if it's bad.

And that's just no good.

You handed over a delicate smile as a letdown gift.

A doomsday smile.  

“Hey Mr. Baji, whaddya think love is?”

“Love,” Baji answered, like it was the most obvious thing, but his confusion over the matter was visible. "What else would it be?"

“Then ya should get what you're telling me to do,” you spoke tenderly. “When ya love someone—like, really, really love someone, them not being there would be worse than dying, so you might as well just die if that’s the case.”

If Baji looked lost before, then he leveled up to become entirely absent.

Luckily, you leveled up to enlightenment.

“It's like running, and running, and running without knowing how to breathe,” you explained warmly. “So, how long do ya think people can live without air? For me it's a day. But what happens if I trip? Then I might run out of oxygen on the spot. But as long as I remember how to breathe again, it's okay. That's what being in love is, it's breathing while you're together and forgetting how when you're apart. So I'm serious, without him—”

I'd die, you said.

Reaching the grand finale, Baji forgot to clap but did well to stare.

As predicted by the: 'nothing good comes from' catalog, no good came from teaching what can't be taught;

Because you can't expect an alien who's familiar with long distance intergalactic love to suddenly understand why it should drop dead since it's still technically alone.

“Oh, you were being serious about all that…” Baji scratched his head. Something like bitterness tried to seep through fire defenses. “Well, get that shit outta your head ‘cos it's wrong.”

“Huh?” You cocked your head. “Ya think?”

“What, is that a surprise to you? Do you understand what just came outta your mouth?”

Fully aware of what came out of your mouth, you nodded.

“Uh-huh, I thought my explanation was way on point, but I guess it wasn't clear enough.” Dispirited by your tutoring failure, your shoulders hung in consequence. “Sorry for letting ya down Mr. Baji.”

If Baji scrunched his eyebrows any further, they’d be at risk of falling off. Thankfully, hyperboles are just exaggerations otherwise we’d be venturing into some troubling territory. Specifically, when faced with concepts that don’t align with our own flowchart of personal values, most will find that eyebrows can always scrunch further. And while he might’ve had tolerance equipped at the beginning of the day, we’re steadily approaching the death of afternoon, so we can presume that tolerance died fairly early on.

“No, I get it. I understand that everything you're saying's ass backwards.”

“Are ya saying it should be ass forwards?”

“I'm saying it shouldn't be so shot-out,” Baji snapped as his irritation peaked. “So lemme guess who fed you that wonderful line-”

“Wow, your way devoted today, huh Mr. Baji?” you asked, cutting his slander short. “Ya hate him that much?”

“Yeah, that's the idea,” Baji replied.

“How sad. Mr. Sanzu's the best human I've ever met.”

“Yeah? You sure we're talking about the same guy? Because what I'm seeing doesn't match up. Shit, at this point I'm convinced he doesn't even see you as a person.”

You looked at him in utter defeat.

“This entire time you've been trying to dump your feelings all over mine, so if anything…” A dim smile haunted your features. “I think it's Mr. Baji who doesn't see me as a person.”

“Don't be an idiot. If I didn’t, we wouldn't be standing here right now.” He paused to backtrack. “Look, I'm not saying any of this to be mean, alright?”

“Wow, ya totally fooled me Mr. Baji. But, since I love ya I’ll wipe this whole thing from my memory.” You continued at the speed of sound, “as long as we never talk about it again.”

“Yeah, that ain't gonna happen 'cos I need you to get it through your head—that guy doesn't care about you in the slightest, if he did, he wouldn't still be bringing you along to those sketchy ass jobs,” Baji disputed, as if he were chewing on nails.

"So, those are your beliefs? Hmm, I mean as long as it's somebody else's problem it becomes super easy to judge from the outside," your flippant demeanor smudged with a slight degree of malice.

The canines of a predator grit down in irritation; a sneak peek as to how this conflict would end.

"No one's judging anyone, but that's how it must seem when you're learning everything from some guy who shouldn't even be trusted to raise dirt."

“Hey, Mr. Baji.”

“What?”

“I’m happy. So stop tryna' change things—oh, and stop treating me like I don't understand anything. It's making me blush.” Finishing up with a coy smile, you were pushing to end it on a light note.

Baji preferred to carry on with a harsh note.

“I’ll be happy to stop once you move somewhere else.”

Watching the state of your captain;

You read without words.

Those stories were strange.

This story was one of the worst.

“Is this it?”

“Is it what?”

“'Off’,” you said, serious as ever. “This is what's been making ya seem 'off'. Right, Mr. Baji?”

“I hate to break it to you, but something like this wouldn’t get me bent out of shape.”

“Then what is?”

“I told you already, nothing,” he barked.

“But I think that’s a lie,” you offered a straight faced reply. “Lately, every time I’m with ya I get this real gross feeling. Like—something’s crawling under my skin. So, just tell the truth and stop being off.”

“Well, you're in luck 'cos 'off' don't exist,” Baji snapped. “And I gotta say that's a damn funny accusation you're throwing around, considering how much you lie on average.”

“I don't lie, Mr. Baji,” you shot back with an irrefutable delivery, yet your tone fell flat.

In a game of words, yours opted to play offense.

There wasn't a single crack or flaw in your execution; even your exterior was solid as diamond. The assertive nature of it almost seemed desperate.  

It was a delicate balance.

It was a lack of footing.

It was fragile territory.

For the portrayal of diamond was nothing more than the shell of an egg; also known as radical denial.

“Alright, then you won't mind telling me how you broke your wrist. And don’t give me that ‘I wasn’t paying attention’ shit.”

You held it all together, only to have your composure snap right here.

Baji’s feet were planted further in the ground than yours ever could.

Dread arrived at the scene.

“I’m not lying.”

“Sure seems like it. I know there’s something not right about the entire thing. All I have to do is bring it up for you to get like that."

“I really hate all these conversations, so just-”

–stop.

Just stop.

Baji slashed through your request.

He wasn’t acting the way he’s supposed to.

“I'm your friend, ain’t I?” Baji’s question was sincere despite the brutality behind it.

Amber eyes squinted at your figure, as if urging for your compliance;

As if demanding a different version of you.

"Yeah, but…" you murmured.

But friends don't…

“Then stop feeding me bullshit excuses. If you can't do that, then it's only proving my point.”

Baji’s conviction emitted an eternal blaze.

Even before it engaged with yours, this was destined to result in a gruesome demise.

—a mutual demise.

Watch as two suns collide.

“I'll hate ya if ya don’t stop,” you mumbled, as the threads of your composure frayed.

Faced with such indistinct conviction, a grin flickered to tug at Baji’s lips.

“If it's that easy, then go right ahead,” he said, encouraging your threat with a provoking tone.

Baji was supposed to be a good person.

So why didn’t he stop yet?

He always stops.

Always.

Baji was supposed to be a good person.

Nothing was supposed to change.

Never.

“......”

“Whatever it was, wouldn't have happened if you weren't tagging along with that guy. You need to get it through your head, ‘cos eventually things might not play out the way you hoped. When that happens, don’t think for a second you mean anything to him.”

Baji was supposed to love you.

But this wasn't…

If he loved you, he would've stopped.

He didn't love you.

Which meant he hated you.

Which meant–

“You're a shit-head asshole Baji,” the thread split, as sharp words came out free and easy.

With eyes fixed on the captain, death's blade loomed over your shoulder. It was a mutual exchange. That was the type of environment this disheveled into. Both parties exerted an overwhelming pressure without sparing the faintest trace of concern for civilian life.

“Look at that,” Baji commended mockingly. “You finally figured out how to say my name.” A wolfish grin established permanent residency, if only out of limitless irritation.  

“Uh-huh.” You nodded with enthusiasm. “It's shit-head asshole.”

Though it was dim, Baji was identical to the color black. In a city where stars couldn’t reach, he fit right in. Humans are only human. You shouldn’t expect them to shine.

You turned to reject the color you hated most.

Placing one foot in front of the other.

A formless world forgot its name.

In the vast emptiness;

Baji's words reached you.

But sound didn’t exist in this version of earth.

You missed Sanzu so deeply.

It was uncomfortable; not wearing skin.

On a quest to nowhere soon, you covered a hefty proximity. Consumed by playing out the prior dispute in your head on loop, all else disappeared.

Including your location.

It was irrelevant.

Betrayal bestowed by a person who should’ve loved you was an unfamiliar field. All you could do was find more and more fault in Baji’s actions.

Picking it apart.

Putting it back together.

There was no breakthrough in understanding.

Only raw emotion.

Unpleasant emotions.

Ripping your throat down to your stomach.

If not for the descent of sunlight, you might have continued on like that until time ceased to exist. Luckily, the sun had your back. Unluckily, you didn’t have the slightest clue where you were.

But Mr. 7 did.

Or at least an employee working there did.

Mr. 7 would never be caught dead in the land of mortals.

The chain of fate was a quad colored convenience store.

Conveniently placed in a convenient location, glowing signage acted as a beacon of hope. As if things couldn’t get anymore convenient, the woman manning the register was nice enough to let you use the store phone. Penniless pockets couldn’t afford a pay phone, so Mrs. Cashier spared every store in the surrounding area from the worst kind of customer.

Typing in the number to the joint cell phone, it wrung

And wrung…

And wrung…

And wrung…

And answered—in the form of: leave a message after the beep.

Meeting such a fate didn’t discourage you until about the tenth or so attempt.

Then it was dreadfully discouraging.

As the phone wrung for the ×-th time, you shoved your hand in your pocket. Confused by its contents, you pulled out what felt like a thick piece of paper, which was in fact a card, so technically still paper. It must've been in hibernation for some time now, because the last time you wore this jacket was—a date you didn’t know off the top of your head.

Long ago… before the era of roaches, you wore a jacket.

The end.

Created for this exact moment, the crumpled business card printed with kanji (whose meaning was still in question) accompanied a set of numbers. Your life line. Mrs. Loaded Lady may have overdone it with card quantity, but right about now she seemed like an angel sent to combat despair.

Typing in the numbers listed on the lucky business card, it wrung.

—barely.

“Ito residence,” greeted the voice of an elegant angel.

“Hey lady, it’s me,” replied the voice of an inelegant pedestrian.

“Me…? Oh, yes, of course, it seems that those cards served their purpose–”

It goes without saying, the name she addressed you by wasn’t yours.

“Uh-huh, they super served their purpose ‘cos I’m super lost right now.”

Or at least this one that undoubtedly went through the wash served its purpose.

The card of origin.

“I see, so transportation is in order? My hands are tied at the moment, but I can send someone who is just as capable.”

“You’re a real good person, y’know?” you said, almost touched to tears by her absolute good will.

“I’m glad to be of help, dear,” she replied pleasantly. “I’ll write down your location and send someone right away.”

Communicating the address from the convenient cashier to the upstanding citizen on the line, she ensured someone would be there soon. 'There', was apparently Shibuya, meaning you stayed within range of where you started.

With that, she called you by another name and hung up.

It was efficient, if nothing else.

Parting with your short time assistant, Mrs. Cashier continued her shift in peace. Passing through the automatic doors, you manned the sidewalk in wait.

A long, long, wait.

Patiently pacing, a familiar car entered your vision. Tinted windows and a build fitting of higher society, you waved gleefully as it pulled up beside you. The figure of a man occupied the driver's seat, presumably Madam Loaded’s butler, who beckoned you in with a wave. Opening the door and hopping into the back, you met the support of leather seats with a fwmp.

“Thanks for the lift, mister.”

You grinned, looking around the spacious vehicle. It couldn’t be further from Mr. Scumbag’s human death trap, and the scent of harsh cleansers only widened that gap; for scum never cleans.  

“It's my pleasure. So where am I taking you?”

Locks sounded with a click.

A steady grip shifted the clutch.

The turn signal blinked in repetition.

Tires hummed over loose gravel and asphalt.

Steering away from the curb and onto the road, the makeshift taxi sped up.

Looking straight ahead, your gaze went stiff.  

Breathe in…

Breathe out…

Slender hands coiled around your throat.

Cold hands severed oxygen from your lungs.  

Someone was behind you.

Strangling you.

Their grip twisted around your neck.

Digging into skin.

& constricting.

—tighter tighter tighter tighter tighter tighter-

They won't stop and you can't breathe.

They won't stop and you can't breathe.

They won't stop and you can't breathe.

They won't stop and you can't breathe.

They won't stop and you can't breathe.

They—aren't real.

It's just a feeling.

—a really bad feeling.

Demons pretend to be human and wear their flesh.

Through the rearview mirror, a fine tongued politician held eye contact. Eye as in singular; a patch covered the other. Adorned in a suit and tie, his image impersonated the ranks of those who’ve never touched dirt, despite being covered in filth. Well-mannered lips of an upstanding citizen curved to welcome you.

Wide eyed and vacant, you smiled out of fear.

In the confines of your lap, violent fingers threaded to silence trembling hands;

Strangling one another.

“Miss?”

“—Shibuya Station, please.”

There was a disconnect.

This car existed in a separate reality.

The outside world decomposed into a blur of shapes and colors.

Survive.

The sole term that reached you.

It was one that always relied on physical strength.

This version relied on something else entirely;

Words.

To lie through your teeth.

To become someone else.

You're not you.

There was no room for error.

You had to be perfect.

You had to bear it.

You had to.

“I'm glad I finally had the opportunity to meet you. We must have just missed each other at the firework festival.”

You felt hot.

So uncomfortably hot.

Dampness enveloped your palms.

He knew.

He already knew.

“Ah, I've gone out of order already, my apologies. It's nice to meet you. My name is Ito Akiyoshi. Ito written with the characters this and wisteria. Akiyoshi written with the characters autumn and luck. You're acquainted with my wife and son. They–no. My wife said she ran into you while looking for me.”

This is that kid's dumb dad?

The guy who broke your nose.

The 'bad guy' you were fighting.

The scumbag you robbed thanks to the pretense of prostitution.

“It's nice to meet you,” you said, paying close attention to your pronunciation.

Everything was uncomfortable.

You weren't you.

“I heard a lot of good things about you,” you added.

“Likewise.” He glanced up at the rearview mirror. “So, do you live around here?”

“I do, but not for much longer. We're in the process of moving.”

“What a shame. Moving can be rather difficult for children your age, I hope it's not too far.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I wish it could’ve been closer. I mean, Osaka seems nice, but I’m gonna miss my friends.”

“I can imagine.”

It'll be okay.

You don't know him.

“Though, judging by the manner of your speech,” he said, without the slightest waver in tone, “I take it that this is not your first time moving.”

“—hah, you got me there.” You converted the shock into a smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I typically am.” He chuckled in a light-hearted demeanor.

His gaze was consistent.

Back and forth between the road and the mirror.

Consistent in watching you.

Observing you.

It’s fine.

You don’t know him.

“It’s a bit hard to tell from up here, but on your hand, is that a tattoo?” Akiyoshi asked.

“Yeah, it is.”

“It looks quite faded.”

“I’ve had it for a few years now, so I think that’s normal.”

Normal meaning unprofessional.

Normal if you don’t go deep enough.

Normal isn’t actually normal if you look at the time frame.

Normally, you wouldn’t ever be thankful for botched ink on your thumb.

It's okay.

It existed as proof.

You don't know him.

“I see. Your parents must be lenient, no?”

“No, they were really mad.”

"Mm, rightfully so. What is it they do for a living?"

“Ah, my parents…”

“Yes, how about your mother?”

“She works from home.”

“And your father?”

“His work makes him travel a lot.”

“I see, but what is it that they do exactly?”

“I wonder, do you need a job?”

“No, I'm quite alright.” He chuckled. "I'm just curious, nothing more.”

See, it’s okay.

Because, you don’t know him.

You don't, you don't, you don't, you don't, you don't, you don't, you don't, you don't, you don't-

“Tell me,” he demanded pleasantly, “do you, by chance, have any siblings?”

His voice upheld the same formalities, without a shred of ill intent.

But you could feel the decay in his words.

Burrowing under your skin.

Decomposing the car's interior.

—while a clean world was rotting with miasma.

You held your breath.

“I have an older sister but she left for school awhile back. Fukuoka, I think,” you said, blurting out the first location that came to mind.

“Fukuoka,” he repeated. “Even from Osaka, that's quite the trip. How often is it that she visits?”

“It's rare.” You shook your head dejectedly. “The most recent time was last autumn. Sad, huh?”

He didn't offer a response.

Your heartbeat shattered atop his silence.

Bad ends are everywhere, one misstep is all it takes. Up until now you've pursued your fair share of those routes. Have you lost count yet? There's no shame in not keeping track of numbers among other things. The point that matters is the sheer abundance of them, although that being said;

There's only one true ending.

But that one's not intended for you.

After all, a bad ending had been sitting beside you this entire time; you should know since you brought it here.

—that feeling.

What an irresponsible parent, letting it get so carried away.

It hated that you could breathe.

It wanted you dead.

You shouldn't have exposed your neck.

The one up front must be thinking the same thing.

The stillness violated your senses.

It was hard to breathe.

“Very,” he finally replied. “I can see the resemblance.”

“Hm?” You tilted your head curiously. It was almost as if you weren't just contemplating the survival rating of jumping out of the car. “Do you know her?”

“Not quite, though I believe I may have seen her in passing.” He cleared his throat. “Nevertheless, I wish her well in her studies.”

“I'll pass her the message.”

He smiled in recognition.

“I must say I was surprised, my wife seemed adamant about getting you.”

“She's a good person.”

“That she is. Thanks to her, there is not a day that passes where I don’t feel the grace of luck,” the cheating scum boasted. “My only gripe is, that memory of hers could use some improvement. Wouldn’t you say–?”

The name he called you—it wasn't yours.

Which meant he got it from—his wife.

Hah…ha…haha…

She really was a good person.

“I think she's exactly how she's supposed to be, and if she heard you saying things like that, I bet it'd make her cry.”

“I see. Well, please forgive me, I meant no harm by it. Truthfully, she wasn't always like that. I believe it has something to do with the anxiety of recent times. With all those girls disappearing. Though I can’t help but to share her concern,” he said, as empathy lingered in his tone. "If my son were to go missing, I don't want to think about the sort of man I'd become. Yet—that fear is a reality for many, I'm afraid."

Not this.

Not with him.

Not something that feels this heavy.

Guilt became a fugitive that inhabited your stomach.

You borrowed a shit rumor from a certain worm.

“—I heard it’s a yokai who's adding new wives to his collection. What do you think?”

“A yokai.” He chuckled. “That's the first I've heard of it.” He tapped on the steering wheel with the pads of his forefinger. “We expect monsters to act like monsters in the same sense in which we expect humans to act like humans. In truth, that story of yours is the better reality.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “If I had to choose one, I'd rather be eaten by a yokai instead of getting stabbed by a friend.”

"I see. Escapism is rather prevalent in youth," he stated. "Well, adding an option that doesn't already exist can ease the harshness of reality. In this case, without a yokai, the guilt of this matter falls upon the friend. Though in the eyes of a child, it's easier to accept that it was a monster instead of their own kind."

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t expect to see a yokai out on the streets? What a letdown, I seriously believed in that rumor.”

“Believe what you like dear. Don’t let an old man sway your opinion.”

“What old man?”

“I can see why my wife likes you.”

That absolutely wasn't why, but that was a different matter.

“So, was your son busy too?”

“Yes, in a sense.”

"Oh.” You scrambled for a reply. “I guess that’s better than being bored."

"Yes, and no. We got into a bit of a disagreement earlier. Truth be told, that's why I'm here in the first place." He let out half of a laugh. "He's a difficult one, but it's unlikely that he would've come out of his room if I were still there."

"How sad."

“Yes, well, you know how boys are at that age. We butt heads more than I’d care to admit, but he will come around once he’s older.”

“Right. That's how it always works.” Quick to agree, you didn’t have the faintest idea what you were talking about.

“I hate to cut our conversation short, but our trip is already nearing its end. Who could have imagined you were this close.”

The car came to a gradual stop.

A blurred world became clear.

Shibuya Station glimmered with the white light of sanctuary.

The front seat scum turned to face you but the fabric covering his eye sucked you in. It wasn't every day you saw that kind of thing, plus it looked out of place on the clean face, suit and tie type—or on any type.

Best case scenario was that his wife snapped and dealt an eye ending blow.

Pain hurts worse when it’s delivered by a loved one.

Mid case scenario was that a prostitute lashed out on him for trying to skip his tab.

Those who excel at delivering pleasure must also excel delivering pain. Or at least that’s what you assumed. Like a warrior code but with some glitter thrown on top.

“Curious?” He pointed at the cloth, as you lagged to avert your eyes. “It's alright, most children are. Come visit us sometime and I'll be glad to share the story. It's quite funny, if I might add.”

“Okay, I’ll call if I’m ever back in the area.”

“Ah, that's right. And I had the nerve to complain about my wife's memory.” He laughed to himself, momentarily forgetting that adults aren’t funny. “Well then, please, don't hesitate to call if the need be,” he said delightfully. “Though I can’t promise we can be of any help if you're in Osaka.”

“Thanks, it was really nice meeting you.”

Opening the car door, you stepped out onto the street. Turning back, you smiled, waving your hand loosely in parting as he pulled away.

—not yet.  

In a bustling city, floodlights imitated the sun in a showing of advertisements, while electronic billboards encapsulated the future. Buildings were built to tower above giants in a flashy display. The clashing sounds of commercials, cars, people and music made for a noisy soundtrack but it needed to be louder. The busiest pedestrian crossing held no shortage of people. From salarymen to teenagers, each had somewhere they needed to be. You needed to be anywhere else.

Blending into the swarm of bodies, it wasn't enough.

It felt like you were being watched.

—not yet.

Approaching an entrance to the station and wedged well within the masses, it wasn't enough.

It didn’t feel safe.

—not yet.

Passing through the turnstile and mixing into the structure, it wasn't enough.

You walked with perfect posture.

—not yet.

Entering the public restroom, the noise and chatter of the world ceased to exist.

Excess water occupied tile floors.

Stall doors hung wide open.

Fluorescent lighting beckoned your head to throb.

Using the wall for support, you sunk down into a crouch.

Sharply inhaling.

Sharply exhaling.

The long-term effects of inhaling miasma were scribbled in black.

Defacing humans with their least favorite shade—no.

How could there be favorites if there was only ever one?

This one.

Smudging over the lines, every page was black.

With your face propped up on buzzing hands.

Unstable breaths dispersed from your lips.

A chill wandered up your spine.

You stared at the floor.

You were alone.

Yet, no safer.

There was no relief, only this;

Agony tore through your psyche to inspire the worst.

You spilled over and exposed all the filth that couldn't be erased. To witness yourself turn inside out in a public place seemed like a corrupted god's take on entertainment. Tears welled yet refused to touch skin already drenched in arsenic. Black matter lashed down to splatter against each and every tile and crack. The bad parts were getting out.

You couldn't live like this.

You closed your eyes.

It was hard to think with so many gnats buzzing around inside your skull. As a last ditch effort, you crammed your brain full of static.

The gnats died miserably.

It was hard to think with so much noise shrieking around inside of your skull. As a last ditch effort, you devoured white noise and in return; it devoured you.

The white noise died miserably.

Sound burst into silence.

Time ticked sideways.

The faucet dripped.

Home.

You needed to go home.

You needed to get to Sanzu.

How?

The door creaked open

Heels clacked against tile.

Stepping into the inhospitable zone of a zigzag crisis was a dress suit harboring a middle-aged woman inside. It only took one step before the fumes got to her head, taking half a glance at you before she offered a curt bow.

I'm sorry, please excuse me, spilled from her lips.

She snatched the door handle fast enough to outrun the plague, but the precision of a predator outmatched the plague and captured her wrist. You looked up at the lifeline like a dog who lost its bite.

“A phone,” it came out as less of a request, and rather some poorly strung together plea. “Do ya have one?”

“Yes,” she squeaked, digging through her purse as if she were being held at gunpoint. “Here.”

Trading off the small peace offering, it was sleeker than the clunky kin you were accustomed to. For an adult in a dress suit, her taste in phones was suitable for her kind, suitable meaning second-rate, and her kind meaning scum who should disappear. Nevertheless, you punched in the only number you could.

It wrung… once.

“Where are you?” Sanzu asked, without so much as waiting for any indication of who he was talking to.

“Shibuya Station,” you answered plainly.

“That’s a surprise. You're not in the middle of nowhere for a change.” Sanzu said, his words corrupted by static.

“...”

—say it.

“Stay by the Hachiko exit and don’t go anywhere.”

“...”

—say it.

“Answer me if you're there.”

—just say it.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “it's just-”

“Is this your first time using a phone? If you want me to hear you, speak up.”

"Sorry but I…"

“I messed up again, real, real bad this time.” Wide eyed and high-strung, you tore your fingers through your hair. “I really, really, really–”

“You must have shit service, I can barely hear you. Just go wait at the Hachiko exit for now. Oh, and-”

The line beeped three times.

Then went silent.

The call dropped.

You stared at the screen for a few seconds.

Your end didn't have service.

……

Wait at the entrance.

That’s what he told you to do.

You looked up at the hostage.

“The Hachiko exit,” you repeated, offering the dress suit her phone back.

“Take a right from here and go straight,” she said, making a clean escape.

Relinquishing a world record crouch, you stood up and offered meager self-encouragement by rubbing any sign of this incident from your eyes. Trekking through sludge and filth, there was no sentiment as you departed from the graveyard entrails. Thanks to the dress suit's aid of direction, you emerged from the ever gleaming Hachiko exit.

You did a bad job today.

But waiting was something even you could do.

The night greeted you with pitch black skies. Judging by the harsh decline of foot traffic, it must’ve been getting late. Walking by blank face after face, you headed towards the Hachiko memorial statue.

There was a lingering sense of unrealness to everything. A divide existed between you and all the rest. Those loved by the universe, and those hated by it.

If it hated you today;

It might love you again tomorrow.

While you had no say in the matter, you'd sooner wring its neck out than ever accept this degree of punishment again.

Mr. Baji hated you today.

He'll hate you again tomorrow.

When Sanzu hears what you did, he might hate you today too–no.

He's the only one who can never hate you.

The laws of the universe said so.

…….

You did a bad job today.

You never wanted to be away from Sanzu again.

You never wanted to be alone again.

You never wanted to be alone.

Bad things always happen when you're alone.

The massive crowds weren’t nearly as massive, even the occupancy at the meet-up memorial dwindled. Replicating something akin to sitting, you took to a slanted bench that detested the homeless. You looked up at the most loyal dog in Japan; Hachiko. It might be dead, but the bronze statue portrayed the living version. If it waited nine years for its owner to return, then how could that be considered loyalty? If it were that loyal, it shouldn’t have let them leave in the first place.

It shouldn’t have lived after.

Something that tasteless wasn’t loyalty.

It was a pitiful display of betrayal.

……

Maybe you should’ve been born a dog. Humans have too loose of leashes.

Despite not receiving your seal of approval, Hachiko never left you alone. It would’ve been concerning if he somehow did, or maybe impressive is the right word. You could never agree with the faux version of loyalty he stood for, but in an odd way, you appreciated the company.

Because you weren’t technically alone.

You weren’t alone, so you tried to rearrange shattered glass.

You weren’t Sanzu; you were only you. So, what exactly were you trying to solve?

You shoved your hands into the abyss of glass.

A solution never came.

October existed every year to harbor the weight of watching oneself die. Stray leaves dressed the cobblestone at your feet while sectioned off trees remained within the confines of grass and cement. Today they were feeling orange, tomorrow they might feel red; the colors of humans and plants weren’t the same.

Yet no plant or human could ever compare to that shade of cleansing white.

Gifted with the stealth of every cat in Tokyo, Sanzu stayed under the radar until he spawned in front of you. Of blonde hair and gentle features, he was every single star that a sleepless city never got to see. Your vision blurred with a fondness that could snuff out the sun, but blue eyes simply gazed. If you knew anything, it was the language they spoke. No–the picture they painted.

It was serene as rain.

Typhoons stuck to summer.

For now, light showers whispered through the night.

“Let’s go.” Not seeming particularly chatty, Sanzu extended his hand out towards yours.

Reaching out in one frame you clung to his arm in the next, spewing an incoherent mess of what vaguely resembled, I don't want you to hate me, into his sleeve.

“Hm? What made you think that? It’s not like you went off and got lost again, so you have nothing to worry about,” Sanzu retorted.  

“That's not it.” You looked up and bit the bullet. “I got in the car with that man.”

“Then don't get into the car with people you don't know. I don't know what else you want me to tell you.” With no intention of taking your words at face value, he pulled his arm back. “C’mon.”

Thanks to the route chosen by a certified moron, the aftermath needed to be handled by someone who was capable. Shaking your head with cruciality, a pained expression ate away at the short-term relief.

“No, the one that broke my nose.”

Exhibiting the composure that didn’t come standard with your model, Sanzu looked at you with a deep sense of suspicion in his eyes. Briefly, he weighed out the accuracy of your claims.

“Make it easy and tell me what actually happened,” Sanzu said, with his scale tipping to the 'don't believe a word that she says’ side.  

“I'm serious, he drove me here,” you said, putting a desperate strain on the delivery.

It’s not often that Sanzu looks so entirely blank, but in seconds flat a vague grasp wiped it clean. Working with a fresh canvas, his eyebrows scrunched in sheer bewilderment.

Summer came early and so did the typhoons.

“I didn't think I'd need to tell you something so obvious, but that was careless of me so listen to what I'm about to say—ready?” Sanzu asked, solely to paint on the condescending nature of it all. “Don't get into the car with people you've mugged.” Amidst his backlash, Sanzu spared minimal room to effectively get his point across, and simultaneously deflect the threat of nosy ears.

“I’m sorry, I didn't realize until he was already driving.”

“So it just didn't occur to you to check whose car you were getting into? No, on second thought; 'already driving' seems like the perfect time to check.”

“I'm sorry,” came out pitifully but it was the best you could give.

Despite the expected bout of snide remarks, Sanzu dialed back and took a breath for the sake of composure. Recalibrated in presence, he continued with a clear head.

“Whose car were you supposed to be getting into?”

“That one. The rich lady said it's no good to wander around at night, so I called the number on the card.” You said, pulling the sad thing from your pocket. “She's a good person, but she's married to a bad man.”

With eyes fixed on the card, you seared each character into your psyche while offering Sanzu the briefest summary you could.

“Look at me,” Sanzu demanded, to which you obliged. “I don’t care how nice they were to you, if you ever see them again don’t talk to them, and stay out of sight. Understand?”

“I do.”

“Good.” He snatched the card from your hand. “Is this what you were shoving behind the drawer?”

Biting your lip plaintively, you nodded.

When Mrs. Loaded saddled you with all those cards, you were on the fence about throwing them out since space is less than limited. Instead, guilt swerved you to an alternate route. As it stands, if one were to remove the dresser drawer, they might conclude that drug paraphernalia was stashed in the interior. But reality is often disappointing—especially if you’re a cop. In the end, it was just a convoluted way of preserving the cards. Some people just happen to conceal drugs in the same manner. It’s not clear who’s copying who.

Not that their location mattered in the end.

Soft features expressed a neutral appearance, as Sanzu sustained his decisive as always nature.

“All of them need to get thrown out.”

“Okay, but—is that gonna be enough?” Your words spiraled as you senselessly stuffed your hands back into mounds of glass. “Like, I really, really, really messed up this time. He’s gonna figure out I was lying, right? And then-”

“As long as you listen to me, everything'll be fine, yeah?”

Effortlessly, Sanzu vanquished a shattered earth.

In the mess of the moment, familiar words were an entity you nearly forgot. There was a peace of mind that accompanied them, more so than usual.

Acting alone was a nightmare you’d like to bury.

The burden didn’t have to be yours.

“Right as always, Mr. Sanzu,” you said, as a vague smile touched your features.

Even if you fucked it up to shit—nothing would change.

After all;

Sanzu was always right.

So long as he made the decisions;

You could remain happy, and everything would be okay.

“So what happened, you were supposed to be with Baji weren’t you?”

“Yeah I was, but we got into a real bad fight. I wasn’t thinking, so I walked away, but… I don't want him to hate me.”

The memory possessed the potency of concentrated poison.

Baji was bull-headed at times, even a shit-head asshole. But that was just today’s version of him. When you broke your wrist, he always barged in to visit. Baji wasn’t well off either, but he always paid for your meals. Plus, if shit really hit the fan, he was someone you could rely on.

But above all;

Baji was a good person.

“He doesn't, right?” you asked. “He doesn’t hate me?”

At the time, you detached from a majority of the interaction. Yet, right at the end, you split into pieces that would’ve bitten down if the survival rating wasn’t zero. Baji’s existence was rewritten as someone else. Was that you, or were you rewritten too?

To harbor a feeling that intense seemed wrong.

That state of mind manifested as a paradox.

It overflowed until it was empty.

That wasn't you.

It wasn’t either one of you.

Seemingly out of reach, sleepy eyes studied the ground. Taking your worries out on your nails, anything besides an immediate reply felt unbearable. The people you loved could never hate you—that route would diminish you to nothing.

Shooting a stalled gaze back into your soul, Sanzu’s tone was ruthless and to the point.

“Baji betrayed Toman.”

“...”

Your perception lagged.

No, not lagged.

It was trying to figure out what Sanzu actually said because-

“Do you understand? He changed sides.”

“Sorry, but I don’t really wanna play right now.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

"Hey…" You pouted. "That's too harsh, even for you Mr. Sanzu."

“Is it? I don’t remember doing anything wrong.”

Sanzu had a talent for sharpening words into weapons, but this wasn't that. Otherwise, why would they sound so dull? For the sake of not drifting too far out of character, and not becoming someone else.

Sanzu had a talent for sharpening words into weapons, but it's not like he had a talent for making blankets out of them. Because people just do what they know how and straying from that path doesn't always work as intended. There's comfort in sticking to your own script, trying to read someone's else's makes it come out all wrong. The tactician can attempt the role of the nurturer but that's not what they signed up for. It's mean to make those demands. So, adjust the standard to something more realistic, anyone can be anything, even if it's far from the source material.

The source.

Sanzu was at a loss.

He wasn't built for soothing.

He was just doing what he knew how.

He wasn’t a nurturer, but his pores were full of seeds.

If he wasn’t a nurturer, then the adjusted term said differently.

Accepting any burden was something he could do, but handing over emotions just wasn't plausible. Not here at least. Not with this.

Sanzu was a dull blade, and that's what made this scary.

It was cruel. Something like pity dripped from a knife that couldn't cut.

A black hole formed in your chest.

A dejected onslaught engulfed your face.

“Are ya that mad at me?” you asked, desperately clawing for a different motive.

Crossing his arms in resignation, Sanzu opted to not answer with a reply.

Sanzu is always right. But…

Baji was a good person.

Baji is a good person.

Baji is.

—a good person.  

If not, then that made him…

—a bad person.

Even if Sanzu forfeited his words, no–even if he didn’t know how to use them; he didn't need to. It needed to be established because it was real, it wouldn't go away, it couldn't be ignored.

He laid it all out.

Sanzu spoke without words.

His gaze was iron, and you were being crushed.

Why couldn’t it have been paper?

"Oh."

Indistinct voices passed by in crowds.

Pale eyes would always be a language you’d never read.

Love would always be a condition that you just couldn’t reach.

October would always echo the cycle of death and decay.

A vacant smile brushed by your lips.

“So he really did—hate me.”

—

It hurts.

[missallsundayyy]

"You're just saying that"

ANOTHER LAWBIN DUMP BECAUSE I SHIP THEM LIKE A MAD WOMAN ITS INSANE! here is just Law being a simp for our fave straw hat archeologist, Nico Robin <3

“You’re beautiful”

“You’re just saying that”

“No Im not”

Law crawled towards Robin who was fully naked and tangled in between the sheets and smiled at her. He had a goddess on his bed and today was the last day she was going to be on his ship before she had to return to the strawhats. His head bowed and his lips connected to her long slender soft legs, he peppered kisses in a straight line and went towards her thick thighs. “You’re going back to your ship tomorrow Robin-ya” he muttered in between kisses. Robin had her head thrown back against the soft pillows with a contented sigh “Yes i do”

When it comes to pleasure build-up, there was no one better than Trafalgar Law, he made her horny beyond words and he could go for hours and hours just making sure that she was satisfied and pleasured magically. Since he was a doctor, on god he knew where all the good spots were and fuck did he rub, kiss, touch and reach all these area well. All her weak spots were mentally printed in his brain and he touched her so well because he knew her body like the back of his hand.

Law didn’t just wanted to please the historian but he worshipped the fuck out of Robin’s body. She was the definition of beauty and his ideal woman. Her hourglass figure, her large bust, her porcelain skin, her long luscious raven hair, her waist that was meant for his hands, her scent when she was turned on...oh how fucking addictive she was. He could go down on her for hours craving for more and more even when the historian was sore but no he could never get enough of her. “You make me so hard Robin-ya, you look so fucking absolutely mouth watering.” he grunt out licking her soft thick thighs in long strokes. His hands were already parting her legs wide, giving the sight he’s been craving to see. She was already dripping wet for him.

“La..law-kun...please…” Robin moaned softly, her hands reached out for his head and gripping his hair ushering his face forward to her wet core. He smirked and licked her pussy with one long and teasingly slow stroke. Her head dived deeper onto the pillow at the contact even though it was minimal. “You’re already looking so fucked out my love, did i keep you waiting that long?” He teased her by bringing one digit and plunging it into her hole without warning and going at a rough pace.

“A..ahh!” she moaned and fisted his hair roughly. Law was unrelenting; he added the second...third...and fourth digits into her wet hole that was gladly accepting his intrusion. He fucked her with his fingers hard and fast never stopping to let her adjust or catch her breath. He pulled out JUST for a second much to her dismay, her blue orbs adjusted its vision to see what her lover was doing, and his actions made her whine in lust, this man was so sexy. The feral demeanor he had and the way he was enjoying pleasuring her turned her on to the point she could feel more juices dripping out from her cunt. “Fuck.., you’re dripping onto my bedsheet and soaking it baby” he groaned and admired how wet she was for him. Law gathered his saliva in his mouth and spit it directly onto her soaking cunt “Let me make it even wetter Robin-ya” he said. He shifted his position so fast that even she didn’t see this coming, he plunged his hard cock into her with no warning again. “Ohhh my god!” Robin screamed, he filled her up so good and there was no way in hell she was going to feel this type of way with anyone else. Law was not only long but his cock was so very very big and the first time they ever did this, she was taken aback like taken aback would have been an understatement.

“Gomen I cant control my...oh fuckkk you’re so tight R-robin-ya.” Law grunted aloud, he didn’t go slow nor did he held back this time, he was going to fuck her hard and long and make sure she felt him for weeks and months until they had the opportunity to meet again. He was going to wear her out and that's exactly what he was now doing.

“La...law..please..more! I-its so so so so gooood! Ahhh ah ah” whatever words she could muster out was no incoherent, she couldn't even form any proper sentence with how good he was fucking her. His length was impressive, it hit deep and reached everything that she couldn't satisfy herself and the width...mmm she worships this man’s cock. How good his dick was and how amazing the person was as well. “C’mon use your words my love, i’m going to miss you so much and i- ergh fuck!” his hands had a tight hold on her legs, spreading as wide as he could while he fuck her into oblivion. Her large breast was now being kneaded by her hands trying to maximize her pleasure even more.

“You’re so..ahhh fucking hell….sexy. Look at you right now, i could fuck you for hours and prolong this as long as I could my love” he looked down at their connection, what an erotic sight and sound. She was squelching around him and her pussy wasn’t even trying to milk him with everything he got, their juices were mixed and was dripping out of her wet hole and cum was splashed everywhere on his sheets. Oh how he would love nothing more than to capture this image and frame it in his cabin room.

His cock went in and out of hole at a vicious pace, never giving Robin a chance at catching her breath. Everything that came out from her mouth was vulgar and sinful and only her moans and his grunts echoed throughout the bedroom. “Fuck fuck fuck you feel so good around me, gripping my cock like that...so tight like- ahhh…” he brought himself down to her chest and buried his head into her giant globes and grunt out in pleasure of her soft skin and the way her pussy was sucking his cock in.

Robin had one hand gripping his sheets and one hand clawing his back trying to hold onto him to be in sync in his monstrous pace all while he was comfortably sandwiched in between the valley of her breasts. He brought his face back up and tongued her nipples that were basically calling out for his mouth, his large hands palmed the right side of her breast while he was basically making out with the other side.

“La..law….kun...ahhh its too much...im g-gonna… ah ah ahhhh..” she screamed and clawed his back drawing blood, the pleasure he was bestowing upon her has become overwhelming. Law ceased all his actions and brought one hand and took both her arms, pinning them above her head and his other hand found her throat and gripped at it hard; now this was how he could get Robin to cum so hard because this has always been her kink, almost cutting off her oxygen intake brought her euphoric pleasure. “You cum only when I say you can love, are you forgetting that?” Law whispered in her ears, giving her a long teasing lick at her lobes.

Robin whined at the loss of his movements, his cock was still yet buried so deep in her hole and she was rocking back and forth trying to get some friction but his body weight kept her in check and she knew better in strength that she could never outmatch his strength especially in bed. “La..w….please please please please...ne-need to cu..cum!” she begged him desperately, her eyes were half lidded and both corners of her eyes were filled with tears of pleasure and desperation.  He brought his face down to hers and their forehead rested against each other and he locked eyes with hers, souls intertwined and orbs connected and both of them read each other like an open book.

“You look so beautiful baby, you look so good like this…” he whispered to her, face evident with pure lust and adoration. He loved this woman and he fucking knew it, there was nobody he wanted to share such passion and connection with. He wanted to pleasure her to the point of no return, making her the happiest woman alive and he relishes in her existence. “You're gonna cum so good I promise you baby” he grunt out. With that he resumed his thrust but it was even more powerful, dominant and oh so impressive. He pounded her hard and fast fucking her stupid and passionately, he gave his 1000 percent when he do her and right now he was treating her hole unforgivingly and no mercy and she was definitely going to feel him inside her everyday. He printed and branded his cock in her pussy and there will be no other man that could be compared. She whined and moaned hotly, tongue sticking out with a string of drool at the corner of her mouth, the bed shook with the rhythm of their fuck pace. The atmosphere was hot, the air was bathed in redolence of sex and passion. Sounds of his dick going in and out of her wet hole immited sloppy wet sounds that was the focus of their hearing and the unison of their sinful moans. His grip on her throat tightened and he moaned out loud at the sight and took her mouth in his and gave her an open kiss, it was sloppy and hot, their tongues fought each other and both of them were moaning in each other’s mouth.

“Cmon, cum now baby, i can feel you squeezing me so hard, you’re so good for me”

“Law...law! Law! I ahh...ahh im go..gonn! gonna cum”

“Cum for me my love” he’s raspy voice commanded her and if she was grenade, his voice was the trigger. She was sent over the edge and everything in her felt awakened and she exploded with a scream. With his hands on her neck her voice was semi blocked but this kind of orgasm remains unmatched. Robin heard Law muttering strings of curses and swears at her orgasm, she tightened and her insides was trying to milk the fuck out of his cock.

She was sent over the edge and everything in her was awakened and she exploded with a scream. With his hands on her neck her voice was semi blocked but this kinky action always had her fucked out. She saw stars and her body was instantly taken into another universe. Her legs tightened around him and were now trembling, her body still rocking with his  rampaging thrusts both rocking to the rhythm of her high.

“F-ff--fucking hell.” He grunt against her collar bones.

“La--law…” Robin whimpered softly, “Do it in me...please...i want you to cum in me and fill me up please please ple-- AHHH!” He didn’t need to be told twice, her filthy words spurred him on more and she swore he felt him getting harder.

“Fuck i- gonn...a fill you in so good..” he groaned and she captured his mouth with her open ones and their moans and grunts were drowned in the messy and sloppy wet kiss.

“Mmhmm!” Strings and strings of his load was pumping into her hole as he came the moment Robin kissed him with so much need and to simplify it….she was so fucking sexy and was the hottest woman in this god damn planet; he thought.

“Sss--so full!” she whimpered in his mouth.

Her facial expression drove him crazy, she was in a state of bliss and she was on cloud 9, only he could do her like this.

Both of them rode each other, absorbed in their high and lived for each others’ touch.

TIMESKIP

Law tossed the towel that he had used to clean Robin up into the laundry basket in his bathroom and came out to the sight of his goddess laying down peacefully. She was now looking at Law who only had a towel hugging his lower regions and she smiled, admiring his body. He was so handsome, his body was lean with the right muscles everywhere.

“You’re so handsome”

“You’re just saying that”

“No I’m not” he laughed, they were having the same conversation before their love making. He loves her. Trafalgar Law loves Nico Robin so damned much.

THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE AND READING MY FIC. DO LIKE AND REBLOG, ask me if there is anything you guys want me to write! I'm currently working on more LAWBIN. I know I've been writing them like crazy but that's because the internet doesn't have enough Lawbin and idc I will write till i'm satiated.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Monsters  -  Nine

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Smut (Somnophilia, Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Power Kink, Anal), Language, Injuries, Minor Violence, Trigger Warning: Neglect, Childhood Trauma, mentions of mental illnesses

Word Count: 5.5K

A/n: Nat goes on a rant in this part that is very relevant. If y’all have any questions about her rant, ask and I’ll answer based on my own personal knowledge with the subject matter. I hope you all enjoy!

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

SORRY IF SOME TAGS ARE FORGOTTEN!!!!

Series Masterlist

You anxiously wait in the pristine office, looking around nervously at everything in the room.

There isn’t a lot, and hardly anything super personal, but it’s something to get your mind off of impending doom.

The door opens and you jump to your feet, staring at the tall man as he walks in.

“Miss (Y/l/n).” He nods. You wring your hands out and gnaw on your bottom lip before speaking, voice small and hoarse.

“H-have you heard from James?” The blond man stops in his tracks. “What do you mean?” You shake your head, sniffling and taking a deep breath.

“H-he hasn’t been home in a few days... I’m worried. The last time he was home the soldier was off the rails... he was really rough... and then he disappeared. I-I know I’m just supposed to be his stress relief but I’ve grown to care for him and if something happened to him I-” Steve places a hand on your shoulder, gently ushering you to sit down. He can’t help but glance to where your skirt rides up as you move.

“It’s okay. I’m sure he’s okay.” Your bottom lip wobbles and Steve’s eyes are drawn to it.

“I-I... what do I do?” He sighs and sits on the edge of his desk, arms crossing over his broad chest.

“First of all, relax. I’ve known Buck my whole life. I’m sure he’s fine. He probably felt bad for hurting you so now he’s trying to figure out how to make amends.” You take a deep breath then nod, clenching your jaw tightly.

“I hope he’s okay.” Steve watches you, proud of how you’ve grown attached to his friend and a little envious of the relationship the two of you have.

“I-I’m sorry for wasting your time, Captain. I was just... I don’t want anything to happen to him is all.” He nods, leaning forward and smiling softly at you.

“Call me Steve. And you haven’t wasted my time.” You smile, eyes darting down to his lips for a moment then back up to his baby blues.

He swallows hard and takes a deep breath.

“C’mon, I’ll take you home.” You hesitate, looking down and shrinking in on yourself.

“What’s wrong?” You shake your head and scoff at yourself. He crouches down in front of you, shouldering his way gently between your legs and for a moment he wonders what it must be like to be between them in a different setting. His eyes find your panties and he licks his lips. The light blue fabric has a small damp spot in the middle and he finds himself fighting the urge to bend you over his desk.

He rests a big hand on your thigh, smoothing over the bare skin for a moment before smiling encouragingly up at you.

“I just... I don’t like being in the house alone. Especially when I don’t know where he is or if he’s safe. I just... it’s scary,” you whimper, closing your eyes tightly.

‘Oh Lord, Buck’s gonna kill me,’ he thinks, knowing that he’s about to take full advantage of your fear.

“You can stay with me until we find him. If you want.” Your eyes snap to his and you nod, fighting a smile.

“Yes, please. If it isn’t too much.” He shakes his head, lips brushing against your thigh for a moment.

“Anything for you, Princess.” The nickname makes you shiver and you can’t help but smile this time. He stands up and takes your hand, pulling you to your feet.

Instead of backing up like you know you should, you stay pressed against him, head back so you can look into his beautiful eyes. His cock twitches in his pants at the innocent look in your eyes and it takes every ounce of self-control he has to step away from you.

The ride to his apartment is filled with tension, and he nearly breaks more times than he’d like to admit.

The final straw, however, is when you’re looking around his bedroom (which he so kindly offered up for you to sleep in) and make yourself comfortable, not giving a rat’s ass that he’s there.

You look over your shoulder at him, making sure he’s still standing in the doorway watching you. And sure enough, he’s there.

With nimble fingers you pull off your top, skirt dropping to the floor a moment later.

“You know,” you begin, climbing onto the bed in just your underwear. “It’s been so lonely since he’s been gone. Could you... stay with me for a while? I’m not used to sleeping on my own.”

He watches you bat your eyelashes at him and mentally curses himself for what he’s about to do. He pulls his shirt off, his jeans following closely after.

“Come here.” It’s not a request, it’s an order, and it sends sparks flying in your belly. You crawl to the edge of the bed and look up at him, holding your breath in anticipation as he steps towards you.

One hand comes up, long fingers gently tracing over your throat before wrapping comfortably around it and giving a light squeeze.

You let out the breath you were holding, eyes falling closed as he leans down and brushes his nose over your neck.

“You miss having a cock in that tight little pussy?” You squeak at his words then nod, whimpering when his other hand trails down your shoulder to your chest.

He pulls back slowly, eyes raking over your figure as if he’s pondering something.

“Lemme help you with that,” he murmurs, crawling onto the bed with you. You move backwards then lie down, heart thumping loudly in your chest as Steve crawls on top of you. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your throat then peppering kisses down down down until he gets to the middle of your bra.

“Gonna let me take this off?” You nod breathlessly, arching your back as he reaches under you. He pulls your bra off easily and his lips are immediately latched around your left nipple. A moan slips past your lips and he grins against your chest, teeth scraping lightly over the sensitive skin.

“S-Steve...” he adores the way you sound. “That’s right, sweetheart. Who’s making you feel this good?”

“Y-You, Steve. Only you... please... I need more....” He nods, pushing himself up to his knees and sitting between your legs.

“Such a pretty colour on you, baby. You look so pretty.” You hum, body alight at his praise, and he chuckles.

“Bucky doesn’t take care of you the way he should, does he?” You shake your head, looking up at him through lust-clouded eyes.

“He doesn’t. Can you? Take care of me the way he should, show me how he should treat me.” He nods, chest puffing out a bit at the challenge.

In an instant, he’s ripped your panties clean off of your body and he looks ready to devour you.

“You want me to eat this pretty pussy? Show you how a real man eats pussy? Yeah? Ask daddy nicely.” You absolutely love this.

“Please daddy. Please eat my pussy.” He leans down and attaches his mouth to your dripping centre.

Your back arches off the bed at the contact and you moan loudly, eyes rolling back into your head as he laps at your folds then focuses his tongue on your clit.

He expertly works the little bundle of nerves, flicking and smoothing his tongue over it in a way that has you seeing stars. Your hands find his hair and you tug him closer to your centre, cursing as he slips two long fingers inside of you.

His mouth continues its assault on your clit while his fingers search for the spot that’ll make you see stars. When he finds it you let out a gasp, thighs clenching around his head as the coil in your belly tightens.

He’s unrelenting, tongue and teeth working your clit while his fingers continue pounding against your g-spot, making you see stars. He has you cumming in no time, gushing and creaming all over his handsome face, and he licks up every last drop.

When your legs stop trembling and you seem to have regained your breath, he climbs up your body to lie beside you, watching with pride as you struggle to open your eyes.

His fingers find your lips and you take them into your mouth, sucking the taste of yourself off of him. He grinds his teeth together and before you can comprehend what’s happening, he’s got you flipped onto your stomach, legs forced apart by his knees while he slides a pillow under your hips.

“You ready for daddy to show you how a real man fucks?” You nod desperately, wiggling your hips back a bit. He chuckles and grabs onto them, stilling your movements. The tip of his cock, all hot and wet and perfect, presses against your slit and you can’t help but moan, arching your back a bit more.

“So desperate for me, aren’t you?” You nod, hands gripping the bed sheets tightly as he slides his cock through your drenched folds, gathering your wetness on his length and coating himself in it.

“Your pussy is so nice and small, bet you’re gonna squeeze me so tight, huh? Gonna have this pretty little cunt wrapped around me so damn tight and you’re just gonna take it, aren’t ya? You’re just gonna take the fuckin’ beating my cock’s gonna give you, huh?” You nod again, desperately wanting him to fuck you.

He pulls back, then slides his cock through your folds again, then pulls back, and slides through again. On the third time, and just when you’re about to snap at him to hurry up, he plunges right into you, successfully silencing any thoughts you had.

A smug smile spreads across his face at the way you gasp and choke, his length throbbing inside of your tight heat.

“B-Big,” you whisper, eyes rolling and toes curling at the feeling of him just sitting inside of you. “Y-you’re so big.” Granted, he’s not quite as thick as Bucky, but he’s longer. He hits every perfect spot inside of you while still making you feel like you’ll fall apart if he moves but die if he stays still.

“Look at that...” he whispers, eyes focused on where the two of you are connected. He slowly pulls out, groaning at the way your cunt clings to his cock. He traces the rim where your pussy is stretched and tight around his cock and you can’t help but shiver.

He grins to himself for a moment, pulling out even more until only the tip remains in you, and then he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt again.

You let out a broken shout of pure ecstasy and he feels himself fill with pride nat the fact that he’s the one getting you to make those sounds.

His hands stay tight on your hips as he pulls back then pushes in, starting up a steady pace and making you feel every inch of his deliciously long cock.

“You my good girl? Huh? You gonna be a good girl for daddy and take every inch of me? Yeah, you’re daddy’s good girl, aren’t you?” You nod dumbly, tears leaking out of your eyes as he fucks you senseless. “I’m daddy's good girl.” He nods then speeds up.

The feeling of his hips slapping into your ass combined with the stretch of his cock in your pussy and his balls brushing your clit has you balancing precariously on the edge, almost ready to fall into your second orgasm.

He leans forward and grabs your hands, pushing them into the mattress with his weight but you absolutely love it. His hips speed up and his lips find your neck, licking and sucking on the tender skin while his cock absolutely abuses your pussy.

“S-Steve! I... can I cum? Please. Please, I’m gonna cum, please!” His teeth find your neck and he bites at your skin, the pain pushing you headfirst into your second fiery orgasm of the night.

“Cum around my cock,” he murmurs, thrusts unrelenting even as you clench around him. He basks in the feeling of you, slowing his thrusts but putting more force behind each one. You’re not sure where your second orgasm ends and third one begins, all you know is that if he keeps this up you’re gonna pass out.

He groans into your neck, muscles trembling as his own climax approaches.

In a matter of moments, he’s spilling his seed deep in you, coating your walls in his cum.

“Gonna fill you up,” he murmurs, pumping his hips while your cunt milks him of everything he has to offer.

“Gonna mark this pussy up so you always know who you really belong to.” You clench around him at his words and he groans, hips slowing before stilling.

He stays on top of you for a moment, just catching his breath, then pulls out and flops onto his back. You’re perfectly content to remain where you are, but he’s having none of that. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you onto his chest, one hand between the two of you to help you sink back down on his cock.

You whimper as his softening cock presses against your tender walls and he can’t help but chuckle.

His hands rub soothing circles on your back and a small part of you wishes that this was the man you were forced to be with.

You squash that thought quickly but cuddle closer to Steve, post-orgasmic bliss taking you to sleep quickly.

You fall asleep on his chest, but he finds himself unable to fall asleep just yet. Not with the way your breasts are pressed to his chest, or the way your cunt clenches and flutters in your sleep.

He spends hours trying to fall asleep, trying to ignore the throbbing in his balls and the way you’re keeping his cock so warm. But he can’t.

Steve Rogers isn’t done with your body just yet.

He carefully rolls the two of you over so that you’re on your back, hovering over you and making sure you’re still asleep. When you show no sign of having regained consciousness, he slowly starts thrusting his cock in and out of you again.

Your body is pliant and lax and he finds himself so entranced by it. He leans back onto his haunches, grabs you by the hips, and hoists you up so that you’re at the perfect level for him to fuck.

He wastes no time in taking what he wants from your body, fucking you hard and fast and borderline brutally, not giving a single fuck if you wake up.

You stay asleep for far longer than he thought you would, what with the way he’s fucking your abused and swollen pussy. The squelching sounds of your soaked cunt is almost enough to drown out your confused groans, but he hears them. Over the pornographic sounds your pussy is making, you’re calling out for Bucky, wondering what’s happening.

And that fact alone only spurs Steve on.

He fucks you even harder, cock hitting every spot inside of you that makes you see stars, and you moan.

“Go back to sleep, Princess. Daddy’s just finishing up here,” he whispers, hands holding your thighs so tightly that he’s definitely leaving bruises.

“m’kay,” you whisper, head cloudy with sleep. He watches the way your eyes fall closed, the way you just succumb to him and allow him to do whatever the hell he wants with your body.

His abs clench and soon enough he’s cumming inside of you again, adding to the white mess inside of your puffy pussy.

He pulls out after a long moment and gets on his stomach between your legs, eyes focused on the way your pussy twitches and gapes, a thin line of white trailing from your pussy to your tighter hole. An idea strikes him and before he knows what’s happening he’s got his middle finger in your pussy, coating it in a mixture of his cum and yours.

Once he deems it wet enough he slowly pushes it into your lower hole, eyes focused on the look of pain that crosses your features. He hums to himself, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he fucks your ass with his middle finger.

“Bucky never take this hole? Huh? Nah, he just sticks to that cunt of yours. So this pretty little ass is all mine.”

He pulls out of your ass to coat his ring finger in the slick oozing from your cunt, then pushes the two fingers back into your ass.

“Would you look at that? A fuckin’ natural.” He fucks you with his fingers, working your ass open slowly until he can fit all four fingers inside.

“You’re gonna take my cock in your ass, Princess. And you’re gonna like it.”

He positions his cock at your ass and uses his fingers to scoop the cum out of your pussy. He covers his length in it then slowly eases into your ass, face scrunching up at just how tight it is.

“Jesus... Fuck, you’re tight,” he rumbles. Your face is contorted with pain and your eyelids flutter for a moment before slowly opening.

He pulls your legs up over his shoulders and grabs both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head while he slowly rocks in and out of you.

His hips don’t stop, even as you’re on the verge of waking up. He continues fucking your ass because fuck, you’re so tight and so perfect. You whimper at the pain but he continues, hips speeding up as he feels ready to burst again.

You start squirming beneath him and that's what does it. The fact that he has you pinned and you can do absolutely nothing to free yourself. The absolute power he feels over you. He cums hard, shooting his load into your ass and making a mess that matches that in your pussy.

Only when he’s sure he’s been milked of all the cum in his balls does he pull out, and even then he’s not finished his assault on your sleeping body.

Now that he has you, has an outlet, he intends to make full use of it.

~*~

“You look tired,” Fury notes, eyeing the super-soldier warily.

“Had a long night,” is Steve’s reply.

The blond man pushes open Bucky’s front door, listening carefully and trying to find any evidence that the man has been home in the past 24 hours.

“Buck?” He calls, walking through the house and pausing every so often to listen for any noise.

He almost doesn’t notice it. It’s so faint and so far away that if he was even the slightest bit more distracted he would’ve missed it.

“Someone’s here,” he whispers, feet pulling him to the basement door. The sound of muffled arguments only gets louder the closer he gets.

Fury follows Steve down the stairs, eyebrows raising as the blond jogs over to the cellar latch.

He pulls it open, the sound of the argument ceasing in an instant.

“Buck?”

There’s an audible sigh of relief. “Steve! Nat’s here too. You’ve gotta help us, man.” Steve hurries down the ladder, confusion slapping him in the face as he takes in the scene before him.

Bucky is on the ground clutching at his chest, blood staining his shirt and dribbling from his chin while Natasha is bound and naked beside him, a bar spreading her legs apart.

Steve’s cheeks flush and he quickly glances away from her, tugging his jacket off and covering her body with it while he works to untie her bonds.

When she’s finally free, she wraps herself in his jacket and stumbles away from Bucky, heart racing in her chest.

“What happened?” Steve asks, grabbing her forearms and pulling her into an embrace. She takes deep breaths, trying to compose herself and not lash out before giving a proper explanation.

“He broke her, that’s what happened. He broke her and she finally exploded.” She pushes past him and up the ladder, Fury waiting to help her out of the house.

“What the hell does she mean?” Steve asks his friend, grabbing his arm and hoisting him to his feet.

“She’s gone fuckin’ crazy, man. She kidnapped Nat and she stabbed me! Yeah, I was a little rough with her, but I didn’t think she’d go ape shit!” Steve thinks back to the night he spent with you, trying to piece things together.

You seemed so genuine. And yet you’ve caused so much damage.

“Where is she?” Bucky asks suddenly, his hand pressed tightly to the wound below his ribs.

“She uh... she spent the night at my place. She was still asleep when I left.”

The brunet stares at his friend, different emotions playing through his body. He opens his mouth to speak but a voice that isn’t his comes out, a metal hand reaching up and grabbing Steve by the throat.

The blond grabs his arm, confusion in his eyes as his friend chokes the life out of him.

“Buck!” He rasps, calmly fingers sliding down the metal of his arm. “Buck, stop!”

The brunet shows no sign of even hearing his friend, and Steve quickly finds himself running out of options.

He thrusts his fist out, striking the injury at the brunet’s ribs.

He drops Steve and grabs at his chest, panting hard and shaking his head a few times.

“Fury, get the tactile team here. And have a second team at my house now!”

Steve grabs the brunet, pushing him to the ladder while he’s still disoriented and in pain.

He climbs up the ladder then up the stairs, collapsing on the floor in the kitchen.

“Where is she?” He demands, his voice caught between Bucky and The Soldier.

“We're finding her,” Steve says warily, eyes focused on the man on the ground before him.

“She’s dangerous, Steve, she’s fuckin’ dangerous.”

~*~

“So you really didn’t think to do a thorough background check before you went and grabbed her?” Natasha asks, arms crossed over her chest as she glares at the three men before her.

“I had nothing to do with it! Fury and Steve brought me files of different women and told me to pick one so I did,” Bucky defends, raising his hands from where he sits in front of Steve’s desk.

“You’ve got different problems, problems that we’re gonna discuss later,” She hisses, levelling him with a glare that tells him to shut the fuck up.

“We did a background check. Her mother is supposed to have died years ago, her father too,” Steve defends, “the legal documents were hidden deep. It took a while for Stark to find them.” The redhead raises her eyebrows in confusion.

“So what’s the deal then? What secrets needed to be hidden?”

“Her father commit suicide. He was a paranoid schizophrenic, got removed from the family after the neighbours reported him exhibiting... strange behaviour and teaching his daughter... unethical things. He then escaped the psych ward and jumped out of the twelfth-floor window, died on impact,” Steve says, eyes scanning the document on his computer screen.

“Her mother raised her until she was fifteen, then she got admitted to a psychiatric hospital, official diagnosis: Narcissistic Personality Disorder with recurring episodes of intense psychosis that included visual hallucinations.”

“So craziness runs in the family,” Bucky mumbles, wincing when Nat elbows him in the ribs.

“They’re not crazy. You of all people should have some sympathy and empathy when it comes to mental issues and disorders.” His jaw clenches but he otherwise says nothing.

“So what about (Y/n). What’s her... official diagnosis? If she even has one,” Natasha urges.

Steve’s eyes rake over the screen before finding the part where you really come in. “She was removed from her mother’s care after her teachers noticed patterns of neglect. The official diagnosis she was given was Conduct Disorder, but they thought nothing of it considering her upbringing. She bounced around through group homes and foster families until she turned eighteen, which is when she moved to New York and got her own life.”

Natasha is silent for a moment, mulling over Steve’s words.

“Conduct Disorder is the precursor to Antisocial Personality Disorder, isn’t it?” She asks, eyes flashing to the blond. He nods, having read in-depth about that particular disorder.

“What does that mean?” Bucky asks. Steve sighs and pats his friend on the shoulder. “It’s what, back in our day, we’d call a psychopath. Or a sociopath. Those aren’t the politically correct terms anymore, but that’s pretty much what she is.”

Bucky nods thoughtfully, thinking over the words for a moment before speaking. “That explains the stabbing.”

Natasha grabs Bucky by the collar, her eyes full of fiery anger.

“No, James! She’s had this disorder her whole life and yet she has not one smidge of a criminal record! Her disorder isn’t what made her lash out and do that terrible shit! You are! You’re the one who beat her and broke her! You destroyed her, mentally and physically! You don’t get to shove off what you’ve done onto a disorder that she had under control!”

She’s panting, her chest heaving as she finally gives him a piece of her mind.

“You fucking destroyed that girl, James. This is her mind’s way of protecting what little sanity she has left. She isn’t a bad person because of her disorder. If I remember correctly, she was nice, she was liked by people, and she was a functioning member of society. So don’t you dare go and blame your actions on her disorder because I can guarantee that if you hadn’t fucked her up so bad, she wouldn’t have lashed out the way she did!”

The two other men are silent, Steve trying to figure out what Bucky could’ve done that was so bad while Bucky hangs his head in shame.

“I know that what I did was wrong, but I couldn’t... I couldn’t stop myself.”

Nat snorts, “bullshit. I don’t care if it ‘wasn’t you’. You still started treating her badly. Fuck, you agreed to this whole thing in the first place. You caused this, James.”

“What happened?” Steve finally asks.

“What happened is that your war buddy over here decided to see how much torture it takes to break a person. Turns out it’s a lot less than you’d think. Fucker took a video of it and everything.” She turns to Bucky with her arms crossed over her chest. “Show him the video.” He shakes his head, hand instinctively going to his phone.

“Show him the fucking video, James. Show him what you did, why she is the way she is. Do it.” He grinds his teeth together, trying not to lash out at her.

“See? He knows that what he did is too fucked up to even show you.”

“I agree that things haven’t gone the way we thought they would, but that’s a fact we need to accept,” a new voice chimes in from the doorway. Natasha glares at the man as he walks in.

“How could even suggest something like this?” She demands. Fury shrugs, lips pursed for a moment.

“There are certain people in this world... whose roles are expendable. They don’t serve one significant purpose. So I gave her a purpose.” She shakes her head. “You don’t get to decide the importance of people’s lives. That girl was doing just fine, and then you decide to ruin her fucking life.”

“There was no way we could’ve known things would’ve gone this way.” He sounds so unbothered by this and that only pisses Natasha off more.

“No, but there was a chance you could’ve realized that if he needs an outlet so bad, maybe he should be the one we’re focusing on! If the soldier is that uncontrollable, maybe we shouldn’t have him here with us! Maybe we should lock him up somewhere where no one will find him if that’s how dangerous he is.” She points aggressively at Bucky

He’s out of his chair in an instant, chest heaving as he glares at her.

“I care about her! I value her and she’s important to me! To both of us! I’m not fucking happy with what I did to her but we made it work! We were happy! We were functioning perfectly!”

“Then why the hell did you sleep with me?!” Natasha counters, stepping forwards so she’s toe-to-toe with the assassin.

“If you were so fucking happy playing house with your little sex toy, why did you feel the need to start something with me?! Not only were you dishonest and deceitful with me, but you were fucking lying to her too! You lied to us both! You fucking deceived us both! If you cared about either one of us, you would’ve told us both what was happening from the start!” She’s shouting herself hoarse but she doesn’t care. She hopes everyone in the building can hear her.

“It’s not that simple! I couldn’t just confess to you what my coping method was! You’d never understand! And she was just starting to trust me again, to be good for me. I didn’t want to lose that.”

She takes a deep breath and shakes her head, scoffing slightly at the absolute idiocy of the man before her.

“James, you don’t understand. That woman doesn’t trust you. She’s terrified of you. She’s been mistreated her whole life and now you come on the scene and you fuck her up even more. She’s realizing that giving in to your sick fetishes and desires is what makes you give her attention, and she’s gone her whole fucking life without having attention so she’s gonna do everything in her power to keep it.” She takes a deep breath and shakes her head, wrapping her arms around her torso.

“That woman doesn’t love you. She’s afraid of you. Afraid of the monster she knows you are.” She turns around and shoulders past Fury on her way out.

“You guys have fucked up. We’re supposed to be the good guys. The good guys don’t fuck people up the way you have,” she calls over her shoulder before storming off.

The three men are all silent before Steve clears his throat.

“So what are we going to do about her? We can’t exactly have her running around telling everyone what happened.” Fury nods, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll try talking to her, see if we can work something out,” Bucky suddenly says while avoiding the eyes of the men around him. He slips his phone into his breast pocket and makes for the door, stopping when Steve speaks.

“She stabbed you, Buck. Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks, his hand grabbing Bucky’s shoulder. The brunet nods with a sigh. “She wanted me to pick her over Nat. And maybe that’s what I should do. For the time being anyway. Just until we figure out what to really do with her.” Steve nods, his hand patting his friend on the chest before allowing him to leave.

Bucky walks out without another word.

“I trust that you’ll be able to make the difficult decision, right Captain?” Fury suddenly asks, eyes going pointedly to the phone in Steve’s hand. Steve holds it tighter, clearing his throat after a moment.

“Yes sir.”

“Remember when you sacrificed your life to save the lives of thousands of people?” Steve nods warily, trying to figure out where Fury’s going with this. 

“Sometimes, we need to sacrifice one to save the many,” Steve replies, realizing what Fury is implying.

“Make the right choice, Rogers. That’s all I’m saying. The right choice for everyone.” He leaves the room without another word and Steve sighs, closing the door then plopping down at his desk and unlocking Bucky’s phone.

He scrolls through the camera roll until he finds the video, beyond curious as to what Natasha was talking about.

His eyes are focused on the video, watching the way Bucky uses your body and degrades you. When the camera pans up to your tear-stained face, he groans, blood rushing to his cock.

It’s wrong. It’s so fucking wrong to find something like this so very arousing and so satisfying but he can’t help it. The absolute control Bucky has over you is something Steve yearns for, something he's been wanting for quite a while.

And he makes the decision then and there that maybe Bucky isn’t so much in the wrong after all.

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (13)

word count; 14,463

summary; in the aftermath of an unusual rescue, some big revelations come to pass.

notes; y’all are gonna hate me but love me.

warnings; descriptive gore, gun use, reference to death, violence, gang activity, reference to drug use, reference to arson, reference to house fires, main character injury.

It was a known fact that it took three whole seconds in the morning before you could process where you were, and remember anything other than your own name.

That first second was spent in a quickly disseminated state of serenity. Your head wasn’t yet hurting, and you eased back into consciousness with a slow start, the darkness surrounding you oddly reminiscent, but the chilling cold and the damp was less so.

The second was when panic rushed through your system.  Your throat felt blocked as you came back to consciousness, the pain in your head came crashing back over you like a crushing tidal wave, the blood rushing on your head as coughs racked your body, trying to take a deeper breath, and panic filled you.

The third second made you roll onto your side, spluttering a little as pain throbbed behind your eyes and your head was spinning, making you feel like you were falling for just a second, before your nails were scraping at the material underneath you as you tried to sit up, everything along your body screaming out in agony and almost giving out with your weakness. It wasn’t soft cotton like your sheets, it was gritty like stone, tearing at your nails.

And then, you remembered.

You remembered exactly where you were, and what had happened, and why you were here. Well, that part was still a little fuzzy, you’d never really been given a reason. The pain in your body made sense, the dull throbbing in one eardrum more than the other and the shock of residual adrenaline left in your sore body that was beginning to make a resurgence in your fear, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath.

The familiar burn of tears in your throat as a lump formed and the stinging of salt in your eyes as they threatened to fall, and then you found the strength to sit up, to blink and clear dust-filled eyes a little more, before wiping a hand over your face to get rid of it all. There wasn’t much light where you were, but there was a clear spot of musty-yellow lighting in the centre of the room, your body curled in the corner, dumped in uncomfortable positions that made your legs ache, and there was a figure you recognised leaning over the table.

Covered in blood, frantic, brown eyes fixed on you that glittered under the low light, you swallowed thickly.

“Nice of you to join us, sleeping beauty. Think ya’ can come give me a hand over here?” Your brows furrowed, still trying to piece the puzzle together, but then there was a clicking that made you jump unnecessarily violently in fear, the memory of the last time you’d heard it flashing behind your eyes like a scene from a movie. Newt was panicked, but clearly trying to stay calm, his eyes widening just a fraction in a messaged for only you to hear, and despite the pain you felt, you forced yourself to your feet.

Your bag was weighing you down, medical supplies rattling, and you stumbled on feet that you could barely feel until your hands were braced on the edge of the table, and you could see what was going on a little better.

A gunshot victim, at least four bullet wounds, two packed with gauze that was rapidly soaking through as Newt had pressure on two others; swapping between them frantically if the pile of blood-sodden gauze on the floor was anything to go by. You assumed from the recognisable tattoo on the other half of this mans face too that he was a part of whatever gang this was, and clearly, an important member if they were willing to commit these kinds of crimes to save his life.

“You got more gauze, ‘cus I’m running out, and I could use your help getting him fixed up before we both end up looking like him.”

His words were low and whispered, and you gaped as you stared at the man. “This guy needs a hospital, and a team of professional medical surgeons. Like, Derek! Or, Dr Lahey! We aren’t trained for this!”

“Yeah, well, we’re all he's got.” Newt huffed, a spit of blood leaving the unnamed man’s body between Newt’s gloved fingers as he tried to shift his weight, a whispered curse from his lips as he tried to stop the flow again.

You nodded, swallowing thickly and squeezing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to quell the pain bouncing around the inside of your skull. You assessment the scene, noting the Newt really hadn't been able to do much, and thankfully, if the change in the daylight outside was anything to go by then you had only been out for an hour or so, maybe a little longer, light still coming in between the cracks in the boarded-up windows.

The man in the corner was slumped in his chair, gun sitting beside him on the table, and your heart was racing so fast that the headache you sported was only getting worse. Your voice felt raw and hoarse as you tried to speak on it, squeaking and cracking the first time you tried to speak in anything above a whisper.

“We’re gonna’ need some water over here, boiled if you can to stop an infection, but even just bottled water would do at this point.” The man sitting on the chair stopped his rocking, the groaning of the seat against the concrete pausing, and you jumped as the front two legs slammed back down onto the floor. He stared at you for a moment, analysing you, before giving in, wandering over to the door and undoing a heavy deadbolt to open it up, never turning his back to the two of you and keeping his gaze locked with yours before throwing a demand for bottled water over his shoulder.

There was scuffling, various sounds of movement on the other side and you assumed there would be multiple people, before the door was closing once again, and the grating sound of metal was making itself knowing again in such a piercing scream along the lock that you shivered, wincing at the chill it gave you, stomach twisting.

“All right, this is a fucking mess.”

“You don’t say, love.” Newt grunted, a soft laugh falling from him as you opened up your bag, hands shaking as you tore it roughly, the zip ricocheting along its tracks to expose the contents to you. A fresh pair of gloves, and two of the strongest painkillers you could find that you forced yourself to choke down dry, and then you were attempting to focus.

Your scissors came first, chopping around Newt’s hands as best you could to remove the sodden clothing that covered his body to expose blood-smeared and frayed skin, torn from bullet wounds and bruised from the bleeding under the skin. Pushing the fabric aside, Newt pressed down a piece of gauze that was turning redder from pink by the moment, no white left on it, and the colour of his skin was beginning to turn sickly pale.

Grabbing for your flashlight, you noticed it was gone, left nowhere on your bag and missing from your person, patting down every pocket, before your partner simply huffed. “I wanted to do a trauma exam, except my torch is on my keys, too, and they took those a while ago because they have things that could be used as a weapon on them.”

“What, like my star-shaped plushie keyring?”

“Apparently.” You rolled your eyes, reaching a hand up to the lamp overhead, and tapping your fingers against the metal, hissing at the heat building up along the cover of the lamp, but deciding it would have to do. It wasn’t ideal, and it wouldn't give results all that accurate, but if there wasn’t any functioning or reaction at all, then there was no point in doing this at all, because the bleeding in his torso wouldn’t be the bleeding that would kill him.

Grabbing onto the stem instead, you covered his eyes with one hand, adjusting the lamp to sit a little differently, holding it over his head. Moving your hand back quickly, you lifted his eyelid, his pupil sluggish in his movements, but there was definitely a reaction, and you let out a little breath of relief. One more thing you could deal with. Checking the other eye, just to be certain, you got much the same reaction, not a speed you were overall happy with, but certainly better than nothing. This guy really had seen the worst of it, there was swelling along his jaw, cut and battered, a blackish bruise forming above his cheekbone and burst blood vessels in the same eye, and that was just his face.

He was coated in blood, and you couldn't tell whether it was his or someone else’s, some dried and other patches still oozing, body marred with bruises and cuts, both old and fresh, most of which were unrelated to the gunshot wounds he had. A fist came banging on the door, just in time, water bottles being handed through when it was cracked open a fraction, and there was only six of them by your count, eyes flittering over the sealed packets of water that hadn't even been opened, and you’d have to stretch it to make it last.

“How’s your leg?”

“Better than this guy, he has a bullet in his thigh.” The joke was to brush off his own pain, but for the past couple of minutes, he’d been shuffling his weight from one foot to another, and you glanced around, noting the box that was sitting only a few feet away. The unidentified man set to guard the two of you was coming over, the door sealed up tight once again and the packet of water in his hands.

“Can you put them down on the box? We could use the extra surface?”

He paused, glancing at it, considering the request, before agreeing. Silently, albeit, he accepted your request, dropping the bottles down onto it and kicking the crate across the floor to you, wooden container scraping over the stonework and bumping against your leg roughly, and you tried not to glare at him as your leg buckled.

A coppery taste filled your mouth as you licked over your bottom lip, wincing at the slight pain of the cut, swollen and sore, but not as much as the pain along your forehead, a cut you assumed you gained on the drive here. “So, first up, we need to try and stitch up those holes.”

“If I let go of these cuts, he’ll lose a lot of blood.”

“I know. We can work fast, but I need you to do the stitching, because I’m not sure I’m up to it right now.” You held your hands up, the uncontrollable trembling taking you over was far too violent to be able to do sutures, but you could definitely hold down pressure. Newt nodded, your hands closing over his, the squeeze of cold blood between your fingers from the gauze making you gag slightly, choking down that feeling of nausea.

His hands slipped out from underneath your own, and you pressed down the second they were gone, the man underneath you groaning under his breath as he constantly walked the border between conscious and unconscious. As you held down, Newt reached across his body, snatching up the first of the water bottles. Unscrewing the lid and placing it down, he left the cap beside it, before he was shuffling through his bag.

Pulling out the kit with needles and thread in, your emergency stitches kit that you’d ever actually to use in the field, and you were having flashbacks and pinpricks of pain along the tips of your fingers as you remembered practising the stitches in the academy, constantly poking your fingers with the metal thread.

The strongest antiseptic followed, dark brown liquid in a half-empty container sloshing against the sides, and it dripped across the edges, spilling a little in his haste, before he was diluting it in the first bottle. Lid back on, shaking it to mix, the once drinkable water turned a murky brown colour, and your eyes were stinging a little front he still open bottle letting strong fumes out into the air.

“I’m thinking chest, stomach, stomach, thigh.”

“Should probably elevate his legs if you wanna’ go thigh last, it’s pretty close to his femoral.” Newt nodded, glancing around, before realising there wasn’t much for the two of you to work with.

“Alright, chest, thigh, stomach?”

“I guess.” You mumbled, none of the odds being in either of your favours, and you watched as your partner pressed his fingers down against the pulse in the man’s neck, frowning at what he found and holding the position down for longer than what was good, the results silently given to you simply by the actions. “Do you need me to push the cut shut so you can stitch?”

“I do, but if you let go of those other ones, he’ll bleed out.”

You gnawed a little on your lower lip, fear and panic building once again, because every slip this man made closer to death, he was dragging both you and Newt with him. The words hadn't been specifically spoken, nothing was clear, but you could read between the lines, and if this man didn’t survive the day, then neither would you and Newt.

You didn’t know what had happened to him, you didn’t want to. Whatever kind of illegal activities, gang territory fight or simply men wreaking havoc upon one another had caused this, you wanted no more part of it than keeping him alive long enough to hope that you and your friend might get out of this situation. The hand under your heart thudded a little more violently as he surfaced back into total consciousness once again, a gasping breath followed by sputtering, fresh red bubbling in his spit as he tried to clear the blood that was pooling in his throat, before an agonising sound was leaving him.

“What the hell are you doing to him?”

You jumped at the loud voice, yelling from across the room and the gun clicked again, the sound a threat that made your entire body stiffen painfully, nails digging into the mains chest as your hands tried to ball themselves into fists.

“We’re trying to save his bloody life!” Newt yelled back, and you gasped, eyes widening a little, because if the two of you had already learned anything from talking back to these people it was the risk of a ruptured eardrum and a killer headache. Clearly, this wasn’t the same man who’d taken you hostage, the rasp in his voice a little different and this man simply grunted at the pair of you disdainfully, rolling his eyes and shuffling in his seat beside the door.

“Alright, what if we use the bags for weight? It’s not ideal, but if we work quickly, I can hold one shut while the bags put some pressure on the other two, and I can hold it shut.”

The blond before you flicked his eyes over everything, fiddling with the tools as he toyed with the tweezers he had retrieved, wiping them down as best he could with some tissue dipped in the antiseptic water. “This guy is so gonna’ fucking die.” He whispered, and you couldn't help the chuckle that left you, swaying on your feet a little as you did, the rush of a chemical other than adrenaline being overwhelming.

“Well, we’re all he’s got.” You repeated his words back to him, a cheeky flash of white teeth in a smile that was gone as fast as it came, before you were shaking your head and refocusing on the task at hand, chasing away anything else you might be feeling in the moment. Daring to free one hand from his thigh, you watched the rapid spurts of blood that came free, trickling over his trousers to the table below, before you were putting your bag down on top. You couldn't see much, whether or not it was even working, but it was the best chance the two of you had.

Newt copied your action, placing his bag down over the wounds on his stomach, much like you had done, giving the two of you the chance to focus on the wound on his chest.

Taking the disinfectant from his hand and pressing down a cotton pad over the end, you soaked the small white ball in the liquid, packing it into the wound as Newt tried to clear the area to see what he was doing, but really, it was only smearing the blood around further. You could clean him up and do a better job of it later, but the first thing you needed to do was get the blood flow under control and wash off the antiseptic once it was clean.

You pinched the hole shut, temporarily stopping the floor, beads of red pooling at the corners, and Newt spilt water over the tops of your fingers, the cold feeling making you shiver, because despite the freezing temperatures in whatever kind of warehouse you are trapped inside of, the layer of clammy sweat coating your skin was hiding you from the chill. Once you could see what you were doing, Newt sighed, taking the tweezers in one hand, and nodding his head.

“Push up around the edges to stop the bullet slipping, I should be able to get it pretty quick. I was good at this part.”

“You scare me a little, why the fuck were you a bullet removal prodigy?” He shrugged, winking a little and holding the metal tongs over the wound, before nodding his head once. Slipping your fingers out of the way, you pressed down around the edges, blood spurting up again but you pressed down, stopping the bullets from shifting as Newt pushed into the man's chest through the hole already made. There was a scarcely audible sound, one deaf to the untrained ear but like sirens to a paramedic, the cling of the tips of the needle against the tip of the bullet, and newt shifted his fingers a little.

Letting the metal open back up from where he’d squeezed them closed like a bullet, the edges of the hole stretched around the expanding metal, and an intense look of concentration took over Newt’s face, not even looking at the wound but staring at the wall behind you, looking right through it as he operated purely on instinct and the touch as he felt his way through it. He let out a victorious little noise, pulling back, and as he did, he brought out the shell of a bullet, one that looked to be homemade, though that didn’t exactly surprise you, and it let out a much louder clanging as he dropped it back down onto a metal tray beside the victim’s head.

You moved instantly, the second that it was pulled back you were pushing your thumb and forefinger back up against the edges of the cut to contain the bleeding. Holding it tightly, Newt picked up the next set of his equipment, an atraumatic needle, one of ten and you hoped he was as good as he boasted being because you only had ten between you both, and you’d need two per wound with the length of these wires to seal them up tight enough.

You watched, carefully, as Newt threaded the first of the holes through the wound, pulling it out of the other side with the tweezers, and beginning to tie a series of surgical knots to keep them closed. He gave it a test tug, the skin pulling as he did, but it didn’t rip or tear, neither the wire nor the flesh, a solid base with which he could work. Beginning to sow him up further, Newt moved in steady motions, each gap only two millimetres apart at the maximum, pulling them tightly enough to stop the blood flow and allow tissue repair to began, but not enough that it would tear at the inevitable strain it would undergo when it was done up.

As soon as she was halfway through, attaching a new thread to continue with, and the wound was getting closer to being shut, allowing you to move your fingers out of his way, a slight breath escaping you as your breathing hitched each time the needle or thread came too close to you, because the last thing you needed right now was to get an infection from someone else’s blood and a dingy warehouse, or to lose time on this man’s life by having to start disinfecting everything all over again.

As he sealed it up, he pulled all of the threads a little tighter, working his way along to make sure the thread was evenly distributed, before fastening up the thread. He pulled back, the both of you waiting with bated breath to see whether blood would come free or whether they would bust open once your fingers moved, and while they pulled tautly, they never broke or tore.

You flooded with relief, Newt letting out a mix between a chuckle and a sigh, relief overlaying it all, and you took just a second of reprieve to know that you were just one step closer to this all being over. Opening your mouth, you weren’t sure what was coming, words of gratitude and accomplishment sitting on your tongue, aimed at any kind of higher power that might be watching over the two of you right now, but your partner beat you to it.;

“Let’s check the bag wounds.”

You nodded your head, swallowing back whatever you were going to say, beginning to feel a little dizzy as your head spun, and you squeezed your eyes shut for a second, containing the way you were feeling. Lifting away the bag that was sitting over his thigh, you were both surprised and impressed that the bag method had held reasonably well. There was more blood than there would be if you’d held it yourself, but you could work with what you had, and as your eyes flicked to where Newt was checking his stomach, you found similar results. Your gut was twisting again, bile rising in your throat at the sight of the blood in various places, an unusual phenomenon as blood had never bothered you before, and you turned away, gagging as vomit threatened to make itself known, and you tried not to clap a blood-soaked hand over your mouth, the thought only sickening you further.

“Woah, you alright?” You gagged, dry heaving a few more times as you tried to keep back the vomit that was on the verge of making itself known, tears lining your eyes and heat flooding over your cheeks as everything within you threatened to let go, but you managed to keep a lid on it. “The fuck was that?”

“I don’t know. I’m fine. Just aftershock, I think. Hunger, too, maybe, been a long time since I had anything real to eat, I think my body is just all fucked up right now.” His eyes narrowed on you, but he nodded, accepting the answer because the two of you needed to focus on things that were more important.

Once you had suppressed your nausea, you were picking the scissors back up, Newt resetting and disinfecting the equipment once again as you cut away at a patch of the ruined jeans the man was wearing. The denim was stiff while wet, and you struggled to cut it, your fingers aching as the metal of the handles pressed into the edges of your fingers, and you released a breath as you were holding as it was finished. Wiping down the area and packing the hole with disinfectant to make sure it was clean.

The procedure between the two of you started up again, only a second later you were pinching the wound shut, waiting for Newt to extract the bullet before moving to knot the thread and begin to fasten the stitches. It felt like time was coming to a stop while also speeding along, your fingers moving to the pulse point on his neck to monitor how it was going, counting the beats you could feel and trying to remember how light it felt so each period check would reveal whether it grew stronger or weaker.

You felt like the clock was ticking by too fast, every time you glanced up to the musty glass barrier hanging over the door seemed like it was spinning by at double speed, the hand constantly moving in starling jumps around the clock, the shadows in the room growing more pronounced and sharp as the sun moved across the sky, the light becoming duller as the one hanging over you both seemed to become brighter, and you watched Newt work.

As a team, you stitched him up, making sure that each wound was sealed up tightly and that they wouldn't burst, the pair of you physically exhausted. You could see the ache in Newt’s leg, he’d given up on even trying to hide it a while ago, as the two of you had moved onto the third bullet hole, all of his weight sitting on his good leg as he balanced barely anything on the bad one. Four bullets were sitting in a row, lined up neatly beside his head, and you let out a sigh, scrubbing over his skin carefully to wipe up the traces of blood.

Once he’d been stable enough, you checked his vision again, his reaction times having increased by a fraction of a second, but it was enough to mark an improvement, and his pulse was picking up with both strength and speed. You could see the bruises and cuts along his skin more clearly once you’d wiped him down of excess blood, littered with marks that would fade, only the bullet holes to turn pinkish-purple with scar tissue eventually, to join all of the other battle wounds along his flesh. Various tattoos to match the symbols on his face were across his body, and you made sure to treat every single cut, not wanting to leave anything up to chance, your body screaming out in protest as your adrenaline died down, and exhaustion was crawling in.

You were overwhelmed, tears building in your eyes, and Newt mentioned nothing as a few fell free, because you were sure that at some point - perhaps before you’d surfaced back to consciousness all that time ago - that he would have done the same. The situation was terrifying and you were struggling to process it all, every thought you had was like a swirling hurricane, melded with every other thought and emotion you were feeling, leaving you hopeless to process your thoughts but just lay rampant to them.

Anxiety was spiking through your system, choking it down by focusing on the methodical cleaning of the man, but eventually, there was nothing left to do. Fresh gauze and bandages were stark in comparison to his sickly-coloured skin, wrapped neatly and tightly and finally staying crisp and clean as you had everything under control, and your legs were threatening to buckle. You packed away slowly, stepping back from the table, and removing your gloves to join the scattered piles of medical waste that covered the floor and the edges of the workspace.

Newt didn’t even bother to put things back properly, to look after the equipment, he simply dropped it all inside, doing the zip up enough to hold it shut, before it was dangling from his fingers by the straps, and you followed suit.

Noting the movements, the man in the chair stood, his movements slightly wobbly from how long he’d been sat down, and you realised how long must have passed. As he approached, he kicked one of the empty bottles aside, all six used to the last drop for cleaning and disinfecting, and he pulled the gun from his waistband, making sure his finger was over the trigger in case either you or Newt made an attempt to pull something.

Not that you had any chance, there was a pile of everything that could possibly be used as a weapon over on the table beside where he had been guarding.

“He’ll live?”

You raised your hands, folding them behind your head in a symbol of your cooperation as he turned to you, and you tried not to sway too much in your weakness, simply nodding your head to him, and swallowing thickly. “He’ll need to keep those wounds clean, you can take the stitches out in about a month, or longer, wait until they start to form flesh for a scar but take them out before the skin gets too puffy.”

He nodded his head before lifting the gun up a little higher, motioning to the bag you held, and you trembled, his finger flexing a little on the trigger. “Whatever we’re going to need to keep it clean. Get it out. Put it on the table here, and then walk over to the wall until your back is pressed to it.”

You lifted the bag slowly, the dragging of the zip over the metal was all that field the room, tense silence taking over before you were reaching inside, daring to take your eyes off of the man and quell your fear to be able to reach inside. Pulling out both the diluted and undiluted bottles, you hoped he didn’t notice the lack of canister spray you’d left at the scene, your mind suddenly becoming aware of the life you’d left hanging in the balance, and wondering whether he’d survived.

By now, the shift at the firehouse would have been over, and you did not doubt that a missing persons case would have been filed for you and Newt, the abandoned ambulance after over an hour of no check-in would lead them to know something had happened, but you didn’t know how long it would take to find you, or if they even could.

Placing the bottles, spare bandages and wraps, as well as some painkillers down on the table, you stepped back, fastening your bag up.

“He’ll be in a fair amount of pain for a while, they should last two weeks, he can’t take any more than two a day, or else he’ll OD.”

The man nodded, motioning backwards toward the shadowed walls, and you stepped back slowly, Newt following when his command was given, and his hands were held up into the air too, both of you proceeding with caution.

While one danger had dissipated, another was making itself known, the purpose of being brought here was over, you and Newt had served your purpose, and if the man asking for supplies and advice was anything to go on, it meant that either they planned to let you go or planned to kill you, because you clearly wouldn't be sticking around to follow through on a treatment plan.

Once your back hit the wall, you stilled, Newt coming to stand beside you. The door was unlocked, several more men coming in, and the four of them all lifted their comrade carefully, carrying him out, and the door slammed shut behind them, leaving you both in cold silence. This area of the room seemed even colder than that of your impromptu operating theatre had, the shadows creating a drop in temperature, but you were simply too tired to care anymore.

Your head was still throbbing, your eyes felt heavy each time you tried to hold them open, the adrenaline and fear in the situation had been all that had helped to even keep you awake, and you rolled your head from side to side, trying to ease the pain in your neck.

Newt followed beside you, your legs pulled up before you as his stretched out, your bags abandoned together between your bodies, and your head came to rest on his shoulder, a heavy sigh let out.

“I think you have a concussion.”

You chuckled, but it was dry and humourless, simply a sound made to fill the silence and bush him off, but he wasn’t accepting that answer. His hand closed over yours, lacing your fingers together comfortingly and squeezing tightly, and you did your best to squeeze him back just as firmly. “I don’t have a concussion, I just have a headache.”

“Yeah.” He hummed, and you thought for a second, you may actually have won an argument with him. “But you also have nausea, you passed out, you’re a little confused, you’re weak on your feet and you can barely stand up straight.”

“It’s a-”

“You say aftershock and I’ll slap you.” He teased, a genuine laugh leaving you this time, and your shoulders rose and fell with a shrug. “When we get out of here, w-”

“If.”

“When we get out of here,” His voice was a little firmer, commanding you to have as much faith as he did, “Will you please just get it checked out? Just to make me feel better.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes behind closed lids, and groaning when he jostled his shoulder to wake you back up to the fullest alertness you could muster. “Fine! Fine, when we get out of here, I’ll get it checked out.”

Silence encased you both, darkness taking over, and the man who’d been tasked with guarding you both returned, taking his seat again and setting up to play on his phone from the second that he was comfortable, and you waited. He said nothing, not noticing the stare both you and Newt had fixed on him, your heart sinking as he remained quiet. The longer his lack of information dragged on, the more you felt doom beginning to sweep over.

The fact that he had nothing to say to you both screamed volumes into the void. There were no threats to keep your mouths shut, or looming promises of what would happen if you exposed the group’s location, or even any information on when you’d be leaving, and it seemed that they had no intention to let you go at all.

As you wiggled a little against the concrete, butt becoming numb from the stone underneath you, your legs stretched out to match your partners, and your eyes closed. You were fading away again, drifting towards sleep as it called out to you, the spinning of the room, the dizziness that was bordering on vertigo and the nausea with the headache, it all seemed to lessen as you slipped from consciousness.

Newt was talking to you, forcing you to stay just enough awake that you didn’t drift completely, but you weren’t processing what he was saying, the words just becoming background noise that disturbed you from being able to slumber, but you suspected that was the whole point. He wasn’t talking about anything important, he was telling you his mother’s recipes and the time he once went to buy new work shoes but almost walked out of the store while wearing an un-purchased pair because he was so tired from a double shift.

You missed the banging in the other rooms, you missed the actions taking place, barely roused by the sudden shaking your body felt, and you only snapped back to consciousness when you felt hands on your body. You kicked roughly, Newt barely avoiding the blow as all the pain you’d felt came flooding back over you in shockwaves, making you shudder violently at the surge of pain and nausea, before you were blinking at the dull lighting in the room.

“Stick with me, love. Tommy would kill me if we had to take you to the hospital after the final hurdle because I couldn’t keep you awake.”

“Oh, shut up.” Your words were slurred, and you shook your head, eyes squeezing closed at the throbbing taking place behind them. “You’d love that, I’m surprised you haven’t sacrificed me for a trip to the ER yet, anything to see Dr Derek in his lab coat, right?”

Pink flushed his cheeks, his eyes flickering over to the door, and he leaned in a little, hugging you tightly and shaking you enough to jolt energy through your body, a groan on your lips as he did. “Something is going on outside, and I never pass up a chance for an I-told-you-so!”

“A what?” You questioned, confusion still washing over you, but you never got a chance for an answer. The sound of a bullet pinging against metal was so sharp that it left another ringing in your ears as you cupped your hands over the sides of your head just a second too late. Newt did the same, falling away from shock with a grunt, and the man beside the door was in a little more agony at his close proximity to the sound.

You blinked blurry vision clear, watching smoke curl up from the lock, before the heavy metal door was falling open. It was a uniform you recognised, one of the police members you’d already seen much of over the last few cases, your brows raising a little as you watched them enter. You kept your hands over your ears, at least two more shots reverberating through the air and you felt them more than you heard them, body feeling the impact and breath feeling knocked from your lungs at the vibrations over the airwaves.

It was all like a dream, detached from reality as you were pulled to your feet by an officer, Newt’s hand dropping away from yours and you stumbled, feelings as though your movements weren’t your own. As you were guided through the halls, you tried to remember some of it, any of it, but everything you saw and heard seemed to be going in one ear and out the other.

Flashing blue lights outside with wailing sirens signalled the police cars, and several men around you were all being arrested, pinned down face first and snarling as they were cuffed, but you didn’t have enough energy to feel intimidated right now.

The fresh air was a shock, like plunging into water below the freezing point, and you took a sudden and gasping inhale, coming to a full stop, and everything out of focus suddenly went into overdrive. As you stepped out of the building the haze seemed to drop away, and you took another lungful of the air, panting breaths as you tried to fill your lungs with the source of oxygen, a panic attack building as you finally let everything cup back through, and gentle hands were guiding you to an ambulance.

You recognised the paramedics waiting inside, they were friendly as they greeted you by name and you recognised them from another case, perhaps the one on the bridge or at the chemical plant, you weren’t too sure, but it didn’t matter. An oxygen mask was placed over your face, fresh breaths of air racing through your lungs on a steady distribution that forced your breathing to even out, and you were grateful for it, not wanting to break down until you were curled up in your own bed tonight.

You winced at the flashlight that flickered over your eyes, stars in your eyes flashing for a second as you blinked to clear them, and while the paramedic around you shuffled within their own devices, you shifted yourself slightly on the stretcher, turning to stare out at the collections of cars instead, trying to see more than just the inside of the ambulance.

You searched for Newt, unable to find his blond hair for a good few minutes, before finally, you spotted him. Messy mop head in a far corner, beside a collection of cars that didn't belong to the public services, but instead to the members of the public services.

He was wrapped up tightly in his best friend's arms, Thomas patting his back comfortingly, as Minho all but bounced with excitement at his side. Brenda was leaning on her car, and Gally was standing beside them, hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. They were all in casual clothing, clearly having changed since the end of their shift had rocked around so long ago, the night sky closing in overhead as the day was being chased away, and you took another deep breath through the mask, smiling again.

Just the sight of your team was reassuring, to know they’d found you, they’d come to collect you, to make sure you were okay, and your heart thumped steadily and surely in confirmation that you needed their comfort right now. They were talking, Newt using a lot of hand gestures and while you couldn't tell much about their features, you knew they’d all be flickering from amusement to confusion to horror. Newt was quite the storyteller, at any time, no matter the trauma.

They turned, Newt pointing over to the ambulance you were within, and you raised a hand to wave to your friend as you watched all of their attentions move to you, before the paramedic before you was summoning your attention once again. You turned to her, the call of your name snapping you to the moment, and as much as you didn't want to look away from them all, you knew you’d be reunited with them soon enough.

“Well, you definitely have a concussion.” She confirmed, and you pouted, taking a final deep breath from the oxygen mask, and then taking it off.

“Newt is going to live for the ‘I-told-you-so’.” You scowled, and she seemed to come into more focus within your memory now. You remembered her, she had been there at the chemical plant, she’d been new at the time, a trainee, fresh out of the academy and on one of her first cases, and you’d tried to comfort her about the card system, making sure to navigate as many red cards away from her as you could to make a hard day just a little easier.

She grinned, handing you a plastic cup with some tablets inside, and a bottle of water, with the lid already unscrewed. “I’ll spare you the medical analysis, I’m sure you know what to do.” You only nodded, taking both from her gratefully and tipping the pills onto your tongue, before following them with a gulp of water, and taking them down eagerly. “Two painkillers to keep the headaches and muscle soreness at bay, as well as the nausea.”

“As much as I’d love to chat, I’m going to have to rain-check. Am I good to go? I’m desperate to just get home.”

She chuckled, nodding, and you stood up, still feeling a little unsteady and lightheaded, but it was beginning to get easier. Giving her a final thanks, and climbing down from the van, you closed the doors up for her, banging on the back when they were sealed up, and she gave a thumbs up from inside of the window, before sorting everything out and preparing for their journey back.

Turning around, there was a body directly behind you, and you cursed loudly while jumping, eyes trailing up from a familiar chest to his face and raising a brow as warm honey-coloured eyes stared at you. “Fuck, Tommy, hasn’t anyone ever told you not to sneak up on someone who’d been freshly rescued after an abduction? We tend to be jumpy.”

He grinned, shaking his head a little at your words, before your own smile was following. His hands came up, cupping your cheeks, and you leaned into the warmth that his palms brought over the cold skin of your face, sagging a little at his touch. “I have a lot of questions, but the main one is; are you okay? I just need to know you’re alright, and everything else can wait.”

“I’m okay, Tommy, I promise. A little battered and bruised, but hey, what’s new?” He rolled his eyes softly, a yawn following on your lips as you covered it, not missing the fond look he held as he continued to stare, eyes sweeping over your features. You waited for a second longer, before nudging one of your feet forward to bump your toes against his, your brows raising a little. “What’s wrong?”

“I was just really fucking worried about you.” He whispered, eyes dropping down a little, fixing on your lips, and licked over his own. His hands fell further down, sitting over your jaw and he dragged a thumb across your lips a little, your mouth pouting instinctually as he did, and his lips flicked up at the edges, never taking his gaze from where his finger was resting. “Chasing after you is like being on a damn rollercoaster.”

“How’s that?” You mumbled, breath clouding in the cold air slightly but the words were whispered, and his lashes tickled against your cheek as he shifted to bump his nose against yours, dragging them together slowly, his lips pressing to his own finger on the other side.

“Exciting, addictive, a total rush, but a little scary right at the big drop.”

You brought a hand up, sitting over his cheek, his head tipping into your hand, and his thumb slipped away, leaving nothing between you to stop you from being able to taste the overly sweetened coffee on his breath that he drank whenever he got worried. “Don’t kiss me yet.”

“Why not? It’s me and you, and now I know you’re okay, and I just really want to.” He teased you, pushing in enough to trace his lips very gently against your own, sparks of electricity shooting along you at the fleeting brush that you could still feel but wasn’t enough to be a kiss, but already left you wanting more. “If you don’t give me a reason soon, I’m gonna’ kiss you breathless, and they’ll need to put you back on that oxygen mask.”

You let out a soft breath, an airy laugh, before finding the strength to pull back by a fraction. “I have a concussion.”

He snapped back, eyes wide and brows furrowing so tightly you thought he'd get permanent perry lines, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “You said you were fine! You little liar!”

“I am fine!” You took his hands, pulling them away from your face and weaving your fingers with his on both sides, before rocking up on your tiptoes, and pressing your lips to his lower cheek, hearing him whine a little at the near-miss kiss. “I’m just a little woozy, and tired, and shaken up.”

“You promise that’s all?”

“I swear.” You offered, and he smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your own cheek in return as he respected your boundaries. “If you can set rules for our first kiss, then so can I. I want to be at my peak when we do, I don’t want anything to spoil it, I want to remember it perfectly, and not have such a killer headache, preferably.”

“I can live with that. We’ll wait. For now.” You nodded your head, foreheads resting together once again, and your eyes closed, simply soaking in how it felt to be surrounded by him, before a loud and exaggerated clearing of the throat was breaking you apart, and Brenda stood with her hands on her hips, a wicked smirk on her face as she stared at you both.

“Do we get any greetings, or do we not matter anymore? Because I was kinda’ worried about you too.”

You grinned, the woman who you were proud to call your best friend was holding her arms out for you, and you dropped Thomas’ hands, feeling him let you go and step back just as quickly now that everyone else had come over, and you wrapped her up in your arms as she squeezed you tightly, rocking you from side to side. Another pair of arms wrapped around you, and you grinned as the familiar smell of your partner’s aftershave overwhelmed your senses, the man clinging to you from the back as he wrapped his arms around the both of you.

Minho followed, a wicked grin on his face as he draped himself across Brenda’s back, squeezing all of you even tighter, and Thomas followed beside Newt, Gally and Fry coming next, until you couldn’t see out past the mass of bodies that had joined, feeling as though you were in the middle of a rugby scrummage and you could barely breathe, the laughter you were letting out doing nothing to help.

Eventually, Brenda was elbowing the men back, letting you slip free when they all backed away, and you missed all of their body heats, wrapping your arms a little tighter around yourself to keep warm All you had was the thin material of your uniform shirt, soaked in blood and clammy sweat, as well as various medicines and chemicals, with a vest underneath. It was doing little against the cold of the night closing in, twilight well past as stars started to make themselves known.

You shivered, rubbing your hands up and down your arms, wondering how Newt wasn’t feeling the cold, but he was excitedly retelling the tale already of the surgery the two of you had been forced to perform, a story that would last him for ages, no doubt, but it was his way of processing the trauma; to turn it into something he was proud to remember instead of something he was scared to think about, something that made him feel bold instead of terrified, and you wanted to support that, so you kept your mouth shut.

Stepping back over to Thomas, his gaze left his best friend, flicking down to you, his hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, and raising a brow when you tugged his arm out of his pocket. He let you, his arm limp in your hold as he let you guide him, a soft pink flushing his cheeks as you tucked yourself under his arm, your cheek moving to rest on his shoulder, your hands tucking into his pocket and one set of fingers weaving with the fingers of his that were still inside. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before turning to look up at him as his arm squeezed around you a little more tightly.

There was a grin on his face, one with a hidden meaning as he bit at the inside of his cheek to contain it. “You know, Newt is gonna’ give us shit for cuddling.” His fingers were moving over your back in slow patterns, large palm rubbing slowly and transferring warmth back to you where you were chilled to the bone.

“I don’t care. I’m fucking cold, and you’re nice and warm.” You moved, face pressing into him a little further, the rest of your words becoming muffled, and he chuckled.

“Well, in that case,” He simply rested his chin on the top of your head, freeing up his other arm to hold you more securely, and letting out a slow breath that became a slight yelp as you pressed cold hands under the edge of his hoodie to sit on warm skin, grinning cheekily at the scowl that formed as you did. “Is any of the story Newt is telling actually true?”

“Surprisingly, most of it.”

“Well, which p-” He was cut off, the gruff clearing of a throat making him fall silent, and you pulled back, slightly embarrassed as heat made itself known along your cheeks when you found the police officer to be looking for you, the rest of the squad falling silent too and all turning to look at you, following the officer’s gaze, and you untangled yourself from Thomas.

“Sorry to interrupt you all. I just need your statement, ma’am, it’ll only take a moment.”

“You haven’t given your statement yet?” Newt quizzed, clicking his tongue in a tutting fashion, and you stuck your tongue out a little bit at him.

“You still haven’t been checked out by a paramedic yet?” You mocked, his amused face falling as he mock-glared at you, Minho pinching his arm as he tried to insist he was perfectly fine, his friend telling him otherwise.

“I’ll meet you over by that car in a moment, it’ll only take a few minutes to get your statement.” You nodded, the policeman giving you a polite smile, before tapping his pen against the pad in his hand and wandering away to the vehicle.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Lips brushed against your ear, making you jump a little, and you turned back to face the man behind you, your lieutenant standing back up to his full height as you did, and raising his brows.

“No, I want you to take Newt over to an ambulance and force him to get a check-up. He’s more than happy to diagnose me, but he won’t do a self-diagnosis.” Thomas laughed, a hearty and full sound, and you assumed there were memories flashing behind his eyes of a childhood full of similar circumstances. “I’ll come and meet you over by the cars afterwards. I’m going to need a lift home, y’know..”

His hand came up, tucking away stray hairs behind your ear, and nodding his head. “I was already planning on that, don’t worry.” You smiled, head ducking a little, and you tensed up a little at the clenching in your gut again, fearing it was another bout of nausea rising, but instead, your stomach rumbled, loudly. There was a snicker, hidden in your hairline, and your lips pursed, a shy feeling growing within you once again. “I’ll take you to get some food, too.”

“Shut up.” You mumbled, a finger hooking under your chin, pulling your face up, and there was a smirk there that only made you flush further. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like you’re adorable? Because, you are.” You scowled, blush only growing stronger, and he smoothed a thumb over your cheek as did, glancing away over your shoulder for a second. “Go give your statement, I’ll wrestle Newt into an ambulance.”

“Mhm, ‘kay.” You twisted your head, nuzzling a little into his palm for a second, before pulling it away from your face and squeezing his hand. “I want McNuggets. McDonald’s drive-thru.”

“Whatever you want, angel.”

You raised a brow, hand smoothing down over his chest to sit just above his stomach, and his eyes dropped, following your hand, a slightly more vulnerable look on his face when he turned back to you; wide eyes, swallowing thickly. “Whatever I want?”

“Anything.”

You tugged on the front of his clothing. “Can I wear your hoodie?”

He froze for a second, before a rush of a breath was leaving him like a punch, and he smiled, reaching behind his head with one hand and tugging it up, stripping the garment off and shucking it down his arm, the long-sleeved shirt underneath rising up a bit as he did, and you forced your eyes away from the happy trail revealed or the flex of his biceps, taking the warm garment from him. He held it out, soft green material looking warm and inviting, flooded with his body heat and the smell of him, your fingers twitching to take it.

Undoing the buttons on the front of your shirt, you cursed under your breath at the cold while taking it off, just a tank top left underneath, before taking the hoodie. It caught on your ponytail, Thomas helping you to adjust it over your head before taking the ruining uniform from you and draping it over his arm like a waiter’s towel, nodding his hair and lifting your hair free from the collar.

He leaned in, lips pressing to your forehead, a soft kiss given to you, before he was pushing you backwards. “Go. Go give your statement, the sooner it’s over, the sooner we get you those nuggets. I’ll meet you at the cars.” Tucking your hands into warm pockets, you wandered away, bumping your hip against Brenda’s as you did and she stumbled a little from where she’d been balancing mid-yawn, flipping you off as you laughed while walking away, and making your way over to the officer.

He stood up straighter from where he’d been leaning against his car as you approached, offering you his hand and introducing himself politely, and you freed up a hand to shake, giving him your name for the record, before your hands were once again clenched with the oversized hoodie’s pockets.

It was a simple case, there wasn’t much to tell. In all honestly, you didn’t know much. You wouldn't be much help, you’d been unconscious for the first half of the journey and in the midst of your concussion symptoms the second time, and you’d never seen the man pull up. You did tell him what you could, about the unusual call, you and Newt splitting up to check the area, before finding the man under the bridge. You tried your best to patch him up, before the two of you had been taken at gunpoint, and you’d lost consciousness when you’d been put in the car.

You asked about the fate of the man under the bridge, your heart sinking a little at the answer you got. He hadn't made it, he’d tried to use the equipment you’d left him but had passed away before the hour mark had passed, and you gripped onto yourself tightly to contain how you felt. He attempted to comfort you about it, to tell you that it was the gang activity you and Newt had speculated it to be, and that the man who’d been stabbed was a criminal, but it did little to ease your suffering.

You were a big believer in second chances; if you didn’t you wouldn't be in the place you were now, with the family you’d found.

Once he had you sign off on the confidentiality forms and disclosures, your name signed next to Newt’s chicken scratch signature, you were free to go, more than ready to just go home. Everything ached, you were still sore and covered with pain, your muscles all tensed up and torn from the strain of the day, your hunger making you feel like you were being eaten from the inside out by your own stomach and the headache that came with it wasn’t a highlight of your day, and your bed was calling out for you.

As promised, the teams were over by the cars, music playing on the radio from within Brenda’s as the door was open, letting her lean against it, and Newt was sucking happily on one of the lollipops reserved for little children that some of the ambulances carried, his tongue turning purple from the false-grape flavour of it.  

He saw you coming, a little bounce in his step as you approached, before he was coming to stand before you, a smacking sound making itself known as he pulled the sweet treat away from his mouth. “You okay? Did he tell you about the guy?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, and he frowned, shrugging a little, but holding his arms open.

“He was a bad guy, you can’t save everyone, but you tried, okay? You gave it your best.” His words were true and you knew they were, you didn’t want to wallow in self-pity, you’d done everything you could without losing your one life, in which he would have died too, and you were trying not to risk your own life as much these days. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah.” You huffed, and he squeezed you a little tighter, clearly not accepting that answer, and waiting for me. “God, I hate this job sometimes, but I love it too. We save more lives than we lose, we change more lives for the good than bad, but every job has its bad sides.” It felt like you’d been having an awful lot of the bad side lately, but that only meant there was a lot of good to come to balance out the scales. “Have you texted Derek, yet, I bet he’s pretty worried.”

Newt let out a breathy sound at the mention of his crush, sagging in your arms a little before pulling back, and pale cheeks were flushed with warmth, the men avoiding your gaze and scratching at the back of his neck. “Not yet. Bren had my bag in the car, I got a lot of missed texts and a missed call, but I don’t really know what to say. It’s late, he finishes shift soon, I figure I’ll just wait until I get home.”

“Maybe you should go and see him.” You teased, poking at his shoulder, and your friend’s flush only deepened, shaking his head a little.

“I want to take a hot bath, and watch embarrassing rom-coms and eat an ungodly amount of food in a very unattractive way, and I don’t think me and Derek are quite at that stage. Yet.” He added the last word on, smirking as that cheeky attitude came flooding back, and you felt a presence coming to stand behind you. You knew who it was without having to turn, feeling it instinctively as a slight thrill raced through you, before a kiss was being pressed to the back of your head, an arm slipping around your waist, and a chin hooking over your shoulder.

Newt smirked, eyes moving over the pair of you slowly, and you ignored the look as he busied himself by moving to the backseat of Brenda’s car to retrieve your bag as well, and rifling through his own for his phone.

“Is this okay?”

“Why wouldn't it be?” You relaxed a little further into his hold, his fingers toying with the stitching underneath the pocket of the jumper idly as you sagged into him, feeling the movement of the muscles in his chest as he shrugged.

“Whole teams here, and you’re kinda’ the centre of attention right now. You and Newt. I didn’t really wanna’ push my boundaries, but I’m kinda’ afraid that if I let you go again, you’re going to get into some more stupid shit and get me all riled up again, and I’m still all full of adrenaline form these last few hours worrying about you.”

You moved to the side a little, twisting your head to be able to look up at him, eyes scanning over his face as you analysed his words, nothing but honesty and vulnerability shown to you. “Hey, I didn’t get myself into this one, it just happened. For once, I have no blame! I was cooperative with the criminal, kept my mouth shut, for the most part, you would have been proud of me.” His lips twitched with a soft form of amusement at your joke. “Besides, they all know how I feel about you, anyway. I’m not exactly subtle about it, and neither are you. I don’t think whatever this is, is exactly a state secret.”

He beamed at that, you weren’t sure why, but his face lit up with pure joy, and he nodded his head sucking down to peck the tip of your nose with a sweet kiss, one that made you feel ticklish, your face screwing up slightly. Turning back to your friends, you watched Newt stare at his phone for a second, considering accepting a call as his finger hovered over the accept button, the vibrating device with Derek’s name flashing along the top going off after a second, and you frowned.

“You sure you don’t want company tonight, Newt?”

“Yeah, I don’t really think either of you should be alone. Especially not with your concussion.” She pointed at you, but her attention quickly moved back to Newt, and the lanky blond shrugged. “How about a girl’s night? You can join in, Newt, because you can talk guys, so you’re acceptable.”

“Wow, thanks, Bren.” His tone was sarcastic but his face lit up a little, and he chuckled. Brenda turned back to you, raising her brows.

“Girl’s night?”

“How about a girls day tomorrow?” She pouted, and you grinned. “You’re right, I really shouldn’t be alone for forty-eight hours with severe concussion symptoms, but I think I can monitor them myself by tomorrow night.”

“Exactly, tomorrow night! Who’s gonna’ look after you tonight, huh? Girls. Night.” She punctuated her words with emphasis, and you tried to hide your giggling at her confusion behind your hand as even Minho groaned, both Fry and Gally snickered. “What?”

“Brenda..” Minho sighed, nodding his head towards you, where Thomas was squeezing you a little tighter, pressing a series of kisses along your hairline, and she studied you both for a second, before scoffing.

“Really? You’re taking Thomas home instead of me? Boo, you whore.”

You gaped, not sure whether to be offended or amused, and Thomas made the decision for you, protesting in offence on both of your behalves as he questioned why he was deemed as a ‘bad’ choice. “He’s bigger. He gives good cuddles. He promised me McNuggets. He smells good. Those are compelling arguments.”

Thomas’ chest puffed out a little against you and the compliments. “Uh, I smell excellent, I give great cuddles, I’d buy you a share box of nuggets that you wouldn't have to share, and I could put on tall boots.” She raised her hands, her voice teasing now, and your head tipped to the side as you stared at your best friend. “But, fine, girl’s day tomorrow it is.”

“I’ll come to that!” Newt chirped, sticking his hand up, and you nodded your head, Brenda taking the opportunity to high-five him.

“If Newt gets to go, then I’m staying.” You huffed, Thomas squeezing you a little tighter, and you lowered a hand to rest over his, soothing as his intense affections were based on the need for his comfort as well as your own.

“Uh, no.” Brenda deadpanned, her bluntness making you laugh. “You’re one of the main topics we’re going to be talking about. Newt gets to come because he can talk boys, and he tells me about hot doctors.”

“So I can’t come?” Minho chipped in, pouting a little for effect as he stared at Brenda, and her words went silent, no arguments to offer as her eyes narrowed on him, a silent argument between two colleagues that only you knew to be between two lovers, and you chuckled to yourself. He knew he’d won that battle, a smirk taking up on his face, and she huffed.

“If Min gets to go, can I come then?” Gally took a more polite approach, and you nodded your head.

“Sure you can.”

“You’re gonna’ fit all these people into your living room? On your two-seater couch?” Thomas teased, a couple of smirks being thrown in his direction at his reference to knowing your apartment so intimately, and you hadn't even realised that you’d been so freely inviting people to your home until now. You felt a little winded by the realisation, by the idea that it would be so simple to accept someone into the place that was so private to you, the place you’d retreat to after a long day to get away from work, but now, work was your family, and you wanted to share it with them.

“Well, Tommy-boy here can drive himself and you over to my place instead?”

“Team day at Minho’s!” Newt cheered, throwing his hands up in the air, and you laughed, the sound fading into a yawn as you covered your mouth.

“Okay, but late afternoon, because I’m exhausted, and I want a lot of sleep.”

“Late afternoon.” Brenda teased, rolling her eyes. “Midday. You better be there.” She barely gave Newt the chance to get the bags from the backseat before she was slamming the door closed, Gally twirling his keys on his finger and Fry already leaning against the car, half-asleep as his head was popped up on his hand.

You took your bag from Newt, who was catching a ride with Gally, the member of the firehouse who lived the closest to him. Brenda’s car was leaving first, spinning dangerously on mud-tracks as she left, and you were impressed with how recklessly she dared to drive surrounded by cops, but that was probably playing it safe for her. The rest of the team slowly followed, Thomas’ arm still wrapped loosely around your waist as he guided you over to his car, fresh mud spattered up along the polished paintwork, and your bag was placed on the backseat.

He was holding open the passenger door for you when you were ready, and you sank into the seat, offering him just a smile in acknowledgement, before he was rounding the vehicle to get in too, car starting up smoothly, and his hand on the back of your seat as he reversed out of the spot.

Switching gears, he inched forward slowly, pulling up the track carefully, and glancing back in the mirrors, before both hands were sitting on the wheel, and he was flicking on the indicator for the highway.

“You still want to go to the drive-thru?”

You considered it for a second, watching the road as he pulled out, before giving in to your craving. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He hummed, a hand reaching down to find one of your own where it was sitting in your lap, linking his fingers together loosely with your own. The radio was playing softly, the cars were flying past you on the highway as you weaved between lanes, an area you didn’t recognise, and clearly, Thomas wasn’t all that familiar with it either because he didn’t talk much, instead, focusing on the signage along the road for a long time.

It was a longer journey than you’d expected it to be, almost thirty minutes passing before you were entering an area of town that you began to recognise, the very edges of your territory as far as you’d expanded so far, and you squeezed Thomas’ hand a little tighter, letting him go every so often when he needed it to change gears or to drive, but his hand always seemed to find it’s way back to being pressed up delicately with your own.

Your mind slipped a little bit, wondering just how it was that you found yourself here.

It had been a long time since you’d allowed yourself to trust anyone, to really let anyone in, and now you found yourself surrounded. Your entire team had shown up to collect you tonight, all of them wanting to make sure you were okay; honest and true with nothing to gain from it themselves except for knowing that you were safe, and the man beside you had let himself dig in a little closer.

Instead of just holding your heart, he’d managed to let himself inside, residing there and making it his own with everything he did. The moment you’d laid your eyes on him, you’d hated him, hearing him already hate you felt like a bittersweet mouthful, making it easier not to get attached but hard as it always made you one step further from home. You’d spent so much of your life forcing people away while dreaming about one day finding your home that you’d never stopped to watch the time slipping away around you as the chances seemed to get further and further away, until Newt had forced you to.

You had your own history that made you the way you were, but you’d never stopped to give Thomas the benefit of the doubt that he did, too, and you’d taken out your anger on him when it was unwarranted. He’d clearly forgiven you for it and moved on, but you’d never really apologised.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.”

He frowned, the neutral expression he’d held switching to a frown as he began to slow the car down, navigating through the car park as a surprising number of cars still milled around, shopping at the mall in the stores with later hours into the night and various fast-food joints, the illuminated letter ‘M’ calling out to you, and Thomas joined the queue of cars.

“I never said sorry for the way I treated you. I had stuff going on, I had a lot of issues, but I didn’t stop to think that maybe you had stuff going on too, and I’m sorry.”

He seemed stuck for a second, like a deer caught in the headlights, before he sank into his seat a little bit. “That’s okay, I forgive you. You didn’t know I had stuff going on at the time, I shouldn't have been mad at you, either. I took it out on you, but really, I had issues with someone else.”

The name was on the tip of your tongue, but before you could speak your next words, the static of the intercom requesting your order made the both of you jump, and Thomas rolled down the window. It took a moment, deciding as quickly as you could and putting in an order for what it was that you were craving as your stomach rumbled again, that typical greasy smell of fast-food drifting through the open window.

You stayed quiet for the rest of the transaction, reaching out to turn the music up a little bit as you switched over to a classical station, finding the latest chart-toppers to be a little overwhelming in the moment, but late-hour classical piano and violin notes were much more comfortable. The bags were hot in your lap as Thomas handed them over clutching his McFluffy in your hand carefully and staring down longingly at the chunks of chocolate candy and caramel sauce through the lid, somewhat regretting your decision not to get one when he’d offered you one.

Parking up at the back, a little bit away from where everyone else was, and you unclipped your seatbelt, watching him do the same, before he was pushing his chair a little further back and getting comfortable. You handed him over his cheeseburger, and the fries that followed, stealing one from his portion and watching as he grinned, sitting them on his lap and unwrapping the burger, while you opened up a box of nuggets, offering one to him.

You sprinkled some salt over the box, shaking the nuggets after he’d taken one to mix the seasoning, but you couldn't eat one, couldn't focus, not when a certain question was still hanging on the tip of your tongue.

“What’s up? They make it wrong? It’s pretty hard to mess up chicken nuggets.” He teased, leaning over to inspect them and winking cheekily as he plucked another from the large box, popping it into his mouth and chewing happily, a sound made as if to confirm to you that they were okay, but the food wasn’t what was bothering you.

“Can I ask you a question, and you promise you’ll answer honestly?” his brows furrowed, but he nodded, taking another large bite of his burger. You hesitated, picking at the edges of the bag, ripping the brown paper slowly, and you sighed. “That woman in the bar, that was Teresa, wasn’t it?”

He stiffened at the mention of her name, his face falling, and he was stiff as his head turned away from you to stare out of the dashboard, and your lips pursed, anxiety coursing through you at the time that it took him to reply. He chewed slowly, eventually swallowing his mouthful, and you took a cautious bite out of a chicken nugget as you waited. “Yes.”

You nodded, keeping it to yourself and looking through the bag for a packet of ketchup, opening up the small tub and dunking the savoury treat inside, swirling it around, and eating the other half. You licked salt from your lips as you finished, and turned back to look at him, where he was staring down at his food, a confused look on his features. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He took a breath, seeming to have an answer ready to go, as though he’d anticipated your words, before his jaw snapped shut, and he put his burger down, sighing a little and nibbling on his lower lip, before giving in. “I didn’t want you to know.” You raised your brows, not the answer you were expecting, and he turned to look at you, taking in your expression, and shrugging a little. “You said you wanted honesty.”

“But why?”

“Why didn’t I want you to know that was her?” You nodded, and he took a bite of his food, prolonging the suspense as he procrastinated on his answer. “I guess,” He spoke through his food, grimacing a little upon realising, and you couldn't help your smile, eating another one of your chicken nuggets. “Because you’re nothing like her, and what we have isn’t the same, and I didn’t want you to have to cross with her.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes.” He didn’t pause this time, stiff once again as he gave you the truth without even considering lying, and you felt conflicted. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to reach out and comfort him, or comfort yourself and put your walls back up; in the end, the person best at comforting you was Thomas, and so you needed to be that for him. Reaching a hand out, you placed it on his arm, and he jumped at the contact, seeming shocked by it. He turned to look at you, eyes dropping to where your hand was sitting on his arm. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t have anything to be mad at you for, Tommy. I’m just sorry you got hurt.” You whispered, and he let out a shaky breath, his hand coming up to sit on your cheek, his face dropping to bump his nose with your own, sharing a breath and nudging into you.

“Just so you know, this is one of those moments that I would kiss you, if we’d already had our first kiss.”

“I’ll remember that.” You grinned, bumping back against him, before pulling away, and eating a chicken nugget as he whined slightly at the loss of intimacy.

“She, uh, she was a paramedic. You reminded me of her, at first.” You turned, realising that in the interest of honesty, he was going to tell you it all; the information that other members of the team skirted around and answered vaguely, a mystery that had been locked up tight to keep you out of, all of them having gotten hurt in some way. “She had the same attitude you did, she didn’t really let people in; a lot of walls. We were.. something. She didn’t want to put a label on it, she wanted me behind closed doors but never wanted me near her in front of the rest of the team. She had boundaries, she wanted me to come over late but never wanted me to stay the night, she wanted to have dinner and drinks but never in public. It felt exciting, but wrong. But I couldn't stop.”

“Thomas, you don’t have to tell me this.” He sniffed a little, eating his fries quietly and shaking his head a little as he relived the memories.

“I want you to know.” You felt touched that he wanted to share one of his deepest pains with you, but it was scary, because it meant you had to do the same. “I should have seen the signs, she always wanted more, and she never wanted to settle down, kind of like you.” His words cut a little, stinging, despite knowing them to be true. “She said she was leaving one day, out of the blue, and I blamed myself for it. We got into an argument, she didn’t even tell me she was moving house until she asked me to sign her transfer papers. We yelled a lot, and I was upset, so I signed them and told her to just leave. She did.”

“Is, uh, is that the day that-”

“Newt got hurt? Yeah.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. “She left, and I was upset, and about an hour later, we got a call. I’d been too busy pacing my office and seething over it that I didn’t call in for a substitute. Newt told me it was okay, he’d been comforting me. He went alone on that call, got stuck under material that had fallen on his leg. Minho found him and carried him out after he passed out.”

He crushed the empty cardboard carton in his hand, the sudden sound making you twitch at the shock, and he whispered an apology upon sensing the environment he’d created.

“Newt’s been my best friend since I was a kid, and because of my feelings, he got hurt. I shouldn't have taken it out on you, but there were just so many similarities, it was overwhelming. I didn't want you to meet her, because you're nothing like her.”

“I’m not? Kinda’ sounds like we’re the same.” You finished your food, packing the wrapped back into the bag, and facing him more confidently as you turned in your chair, and he chuckled.

“You’re nothing like her. She may have been what I loved once, but you’re something entirely different.” He picked up his ice-cream, peeling back the lid on it and poking at the contents with a smile on his face now as he mixed the toppings in. “You’re sweet, you get along with everyone and you want to be with us, I can tell, even if you were going to leave at first. You.. you want me, you don’t hide it. I like that. You’ve spared my best friend a lot of pain instead of causing it, and you make Brenda feel like a woman again when she’s surrounded by men, and you cook with Fry. You’re a real part of our family, I don’t think she ever was.”

Once he deemed it thoroughly mixed, he took a large spoonful of it, holding it up and poking it against your smile lightly.

“Take a bite, I know you want some. You can share mine.”

You did as told, accepting the ice-cream he was offering to you, and relishing in the sweet flavour. He took his own bite, and despite how happy you were, there was still a pang of lingering guilt as you kept back your secrets from him after he’d told you his. “You’re not the first firemen I’ve been involved with.”

“I figured as much.” You were a little surprised, pausing in your words as he looked at you like it was no big deal, and he shrugged, offering you another spoonful. “I mean, I figured you had to have some kind of history in a firehouse, with your transfer record, more switches than a lightbulb sees.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning at his joke a little. “Well, you were right. In my first house, I was straight out of the academy and young, and there was a fireman. He was charming, and very attractive, and he had this way that made my heart race.” You reached up, wiping a stray piece of ice-cream for the edge of Thomas’ lip. “Like you do.”

“I make your heart race?” He was smirking, liking knowing he had such an effect on you, and you redirected your attention to the dessert, turning the spoon he was bringing to his mouth and stealing the spoonful, the chill helping to calm your flushing features.

“You know you do.” You swallowed the treat, licking the sugary taste from your lips. “He had a previous injury, and a drug problem. I was young and naïve, and he wanted the ambulance stock for the pain so he could avoid surgery. When the truth came out, I took the fall and lost my job, while he got off with a reprimand and being put on probation. I had to move to a whole new state to escape it and find a new firehouse. When someone tried to get close to me there, I panicked and thought they would use me again. I moved, and I moved, and I moved. Whenever someone got close, I panicked. I got confused. I wanted family, and I was so set on finding that perfect family that I never stopped to let anyone in, until I came to ‘21, and encountered a moody lieutenant.”

Thomas grinned, cold lips pressing to your cheek as he ducked down, and you squirmed at the slightly sticky feeling of melted ice-cream, the cardboard cup empty as it had been shared between you both.

“My real family, there’s not much to say about them. I don’t have much, my mother hasn’t spoken to me in a while, she sends a birthday card every year, and that's about all there is for me. Until I found all of you.”

“It was just me and my mom when I was a kid, and there was a house fire. She’s never been quite right since, I grew up looking after her, and Newt was the kid across the road who brought me trays of food his mom made for us, and who brought me the homework sheets when I had to leave school early. He’s my family, too. This whole squad is.”

You felt like a weight had been lifted off of your chest from the confessions, from finally trusting someone enough to tell them your story, feeling the burn of tears in the back of your throat, but you were too tired to cry, having no tears left to give. “Tommy?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“Can we go home now?” He nodded, starting the car back up, and you leaned over the centre console a little to rest your head on his shoulder, feeling him turn to press a kiss to the top of your head. “When we get there, I want to go to bed, and I want you to stay the night, and then I want to spend the whole day with you tomorrow, in front of our family, without hiding anything.”

He took a second to reply, letting out an unsteady laugh, before starting up the car and nodding for you as you pulled back. “I would fucking love that.”

[cozy-earthbaby]

3 of a Soul - (part 3)

---

(A/N - Everyone is over 18 to make life easier)

---

Jason was pissed.

There was nothing really else about it.

It started with Replacement.

Jason had asked him the check out a new cafe that had popped up close to his turf that was giving him all the wrong vibes. Just standing outside the place made Jason's skin crawl and the pits go wild. Obviously, there was something wrong with the place, and who beast to sus it out than the most paranoid of the Bats? So far so good. Then Tim kept going back, and not even going back to investigate. No. He was gone for hours in there just enjoying himself and getting unrelated work done.

That really set Jason's mood off.

So, what did he do?

He got Dicky involved.

Who then dragged along Demon Brat.

Surely, they would get to the bottom of what was going on, right?

Wrong.

They had become just as bad as Tim! Dick was even stopping in there as Nightwing before patrols and getting a drink to go. It was getting ridiculous! And it was pissing Jason off to no end.

That's how he found himself standing outside the cursed establishment, swearing to himself as his brothers eagerly pushed him to the door.

"Come on, little wing! This place is great! Just wait till you meet the boys. Danny is a riot! and Pete is such a sweety. They're great!!! Oh. and maybe you'll get to see Ro! They're something else I tell ya! Trust me. You'll love it in there." Dick was clambering on as they neared.

"I swear Dicky. If you make me regret coming here, I'm putting glitter in your shoes." Jason grumbled out bitterly.

"Todd, don't be immature. Danny is harmless, Peter is amiable, and Ro is respectable. There is no need for you to act like a child." Damien chastised in a bored tone.

"Amiable? Respectable? Don't let them hear you say that! You won't hear the end of it." Tim teased out, clearly excited to enter the cafe.

The bell let out a chime as the four of them walked in the door.

Jason immediately felt the pits both rise up and curl into itself. Looking around, he locked eyes with the cause, and the cause looked back. Time seemed to stop, and Jason couldn't take his eyes off the man before him as he approached the counter. He was pale, almost sickly, a tad shorter than Tim but taller than Damien, with impossibly dark hair, eye bags, and the brightest blue eyes Jason had ever seen. His presence both demanded attention and demanded for one to look away. The world froze as their eyes met, eyes matching eyes, the eyes of predators. A lazy grin and a cocked brow rested on the young man's face, looking almost excited. A challenge. A challenge Jason didn't know if he could win. Fear. Jason was seeing green.

"Don't even think about it!" A feminine voice called out, stern and authoritative. From the back came a tall strawberry blonde, standing in what could be described as a 'scolding mom' pose. A handsome young man with chestnut hair and sweet honey doe eyes stood next to them, amused smirk on his face. "Danny. We talked about this."

Like a broken spell, the world returned to normal, not a bit of green to be seen. The pits had gone quiet.

Jason almost felt... at peace.

The young man seemed to deflate into a dramatic sigh. The intimidating aura that was coming from him all but vanished, breaking the illusion of whatever that was.

" But Rooooo! He's perfect! Look at him! Just one little fight, please?? I promise I won't break anything." Danny wined out as he lazily gestured to the group of boys, all but Jason clearly amused.

"No means no, Danny, you heard them! Sorry about Danny, we just got him to stop biting people. Sometimes he forgets." The other boy sang out. His New York accent was strong and playful. The friendly tease caused a snort from Jason's brothers and a dramatic gasp from Danny.

"Petey! 'Att's so unfair! I was just gonna great the guy! Just a little friendly fight!" Danny whined out, flopping onto the other man. "I wasn' gonna be doin anything too crazy! Swear!"

Peter flicked Danny's head, earning a groan. Blinking away his confusion, Jason couldn't help his smile with a chuckle, the two of them were strangely charming how they acted off each other. Dick was right, they were kinda funny to watch. An apologetic smile was sent his way. "Sorry again about that. Name's Peter, this is Ro, and you've met Danny."

"No problem Peter! This is our brother Jason, it's his first time. Jay here heard that we were big fans of the place, and he just had to come with us and check it out!" Dick, by some greater power was ever the social butterfly, decided now was the best time to be laying the charm on thick as he wrapped an arm around Jason. Ro gave a nod before returning to the back. Peter took his place next to Danny behind the counter.

"Nice! Still. Sorry again. Now, what can we get you boys?" The New York accent taking on a friendly, almost playful tone, as his doe eyes crinkled with his smile. The pink on this brother's faces did not go unnoticed by Jason. Interesting.

"The usual for us, Jay will take a Special." Dick said with a wink.

"Awesome! One special order and three regulars coming right up!" Peter rung them up, then dragged Danny to the back, who complained the whole way.

"Tch. Danny is defiantly an idiot. Drake, you need better taste. " Damien said with no real malice.

"He's not so bad once you get talking to him. He's just got some weird thing about trying to fight people right as he meets them. Peter swears it's just how things are back home for him. I don't know. It's kind of funny to see." Tim spoke as his face reddened. Defiantly Interesting.

Jason decided to keep how Danny effected the pits to himself for now.

Guess Jason will be returning to this cafe as well.

---

Tags:

@the-ghost-trader @saphirecross @the-autistic-spider @emeraldcorpral @randomkiddoscrewingaround

Crack Fic - 3 of a Soul

Part 1

(A/N - silly little fic start that I don’t know if I’ll keep writing but I think it’s funny! Crossover fic from DC Marvel and Danny Phantom lol. Also my friend’s oc cuz why not? Enjoy)

—

—

For Peter, it was a knife in Doctor Strange's bag.

For Danny, it was an old camera floating in the zone.

For Ro, it was a book in an abandoned bunker.

Next thing any of them knew, the three where floating in a void. Souls connected. Memories shared. A new world awaiting them...

---

---

A new cafe had popped up on the edge of Crime alley. That in itself wasn't strange.

What was strange was that in the month that it was there, nothing had happened to it.

No robbery, no villain attack, no cross-gun fire, no gangs trying to claim it. Nothing.

And it was making the Bats itch.

Tim had done a background check on the place. It was clean. Weird, but clean. It was under the name of three college students. All going to Gotham Tech.

First was the main down payment, done by one Peter Parker. Hier to a Tech company in New York, double majoring in Biology and Enginering, clearly brilliant. A real hometown sweetheart, much like 'Brucie'. Peter Parker was the prince of New York, and his father Tony Stark was the king. Clearly not hurting in the money department due to his father, government weapons contracts did pay well.

Next was a Midwestern boy named Danny Fenton. From 'small town USA', the kids nothing records aside from his school grades and bare bone medical info made him basically a ghost. Only his sister's local Clinic and filed complaints about his parents driving. They're both were freelance engineers, explaining his own choice in majors. Scholarship money with his perfect entrance scores.

Lastly, Aurora 'Ro' Jasimen. Bounced around the country in foster care, online schooling, birth certificate. If Danny was a ghost, Ro didn't exist. In general studies, having a scholarship as well.

Now the question was, how did these three meet, and why did they open a cafe together?

---

The first to check the place out was Tim.

Jason had been not so subtlety dropping hints that the cafe rubbed him the wrong way, and it was getting on his nerves. Their relationship is a lot better than it was at the start, but Jay was a born instigator through and through. Tim decided that he wasn't going to die on this hill and caved pretty early. The background check was weird, but nothing too crazy, but Jay kept pushing. Even Bruce was paying attention now, so that's how Tim wound up standing in front of the infamous cafe.

It was cute shop-townhouse combo, apparently the three lived here as well. The sign out front was simple yet elegant, reading 'Wha Chai Doin?' as the name of the place. The pun made Tim snort. 'Dick would love this place.'

As he entered the shop, the bell on the door announcing his arrival, Tim was hit with the comforting smell of coffee. He was almost taken aback from how homey and cozy the inside was, despite being empty at the moment. It was strange in a city like Gotham.

"Danny! Can you get that for me?" A feminine voice called from somewhere, causing Tim to tense.

'Danny' came out from the back with a lethargic grace Tim couldn't take his eyes off as he approached the counter. 'Danny' was pale, almost sickly, a tad shorter than Tim, with impossibly dark hair and, despite the eye bags, the brightest blue eyes Tim had ever seen. His presence both demanded attention and demanded for one to look away. Tim felt himself freeze as their eyes met, he recognized the look immediately, those where the eyes of a predator. 'Danny' defiantly noticed the hesitation. A lazy grin and a cocked brow rested on his face.

"Hey. How can I help ya?" His voice held mischief, despite the friendly midwestern drawl.

Tim's brain finally caught up. "Hi. Sorry. I'll... Uh, I'll take a medium Death Wish please."

'Danny' looked him over for a moment, lazy grin growing to match the mischief in his voice. "Ya got it," He said as he punched in the order, " Name?"

"T-Tim." The eye contact was making his skin crawl, but he refused to look away. This only seeded to amuse 'Danny' more, the boy sending Tim a wink as he continued.

"Alrighty-Roo! One medium order of Death Wish 'or Tim comin' right up!" 'Danny' announced, rather loudly, to the back, then turned back to Tim without taking his eyes off him. "$4.75, card or cash?"

"Cash." How in the world was Tim going to stake out this place with those terrifying eyes on him. His plan was to get some coffee and work on his computer, he could hang around for an hour or two. But now he wasn't so sure.

"M`kay." His toothy grin was getting dangerous. Teeth almost looking sharp. Fear was growing within him. He had to get out of there. He had to. He--

Not another moment later after Tim got his change, his coffee there ready. Deliverd by an angel. Both He and Danny startled.

A handsome young man with chestnut hair and sweet honey doe eyes brought it out. He was more built than either of them, slightly taller too. His face and eyes were warm and open, a contrast to 'Danny', and his smile friendly. The tension melted away. 'This must be Peter. I can see how he'd charm all of New York. Bet he's a lot like Dick.'

"Here you are! Sorry about Danny, we just got him to stop biting people." His New York accent was strong and playful. The friendly tease caused a snort from Tim and a Dramatic gasp from Danny.

"Petey! 'Att's so unfair! I was just helpin' Ro out!" Danny whined out, flopping onto the other man. "I wasn' doin anything! Swear!" Danny couldn't seem to hold in his own laugh, Peter joined right after. The intimidating aura that was coming from him all but vanished, breaking the illusion of whatever that was. Now Danny just was some attractive, tired, goofy guy, not Tim's newest nightmare.

The lovely laughing that came from Peter and Danny made Tim feel warm. "Right, 'cuz freaking out the customers is 'helping out'. I could Feel the tension from the back. At least he was able to order before you started being weird." Peter flicked Danny's head, earning a groan. Tim couldn't help his smile, the two of them were strangely charming how they acted off each other. An apologetic smile was sent Tim's way. "Sorry again about that. Name's Peter."

"Tim. And don't worry about it. I've lived in Gotham all my life. I don't mind weird." In truth Tim was embarrassed that Danny got to him. He was Red Robin! He worked with Batman for crying out loud.

"Yeah, Sorry. Ya knows what they say about old habits!" Danny smirked to himself as if he told a great joke. Peter just sighed.

"Yes, yes. You're a master of comedy." Peter drily delivered, "come on. Leave the man to his coffee we gotta work."

Danny's protest went unhear as Peter returned to the back.

After a moment, Danny turned back to Tim. "I really am sorry, man. wasn' trin'a freak ya out."

"It's ok. This Is Gotham after all." Tim offered a smile. Danny smiled back a bit tired.

" 'Preciate 'att. Hollar if ya need anything!" And with that, Danny followed after Peter, sending Tim a wink and a smirk before disappearing as well. Tim's face was as hot as his coffee.

Tim got a whole day's work done after that. maybe the place was weird, but it was charming. Even after everything blows over, he thinks that he might just keep coming to the cute cafe at the edge of the Ally.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Yandere!Mammon x reader

Praise 

I know it’s late but i wanted to give something for Mammon’s birthday~ I love him so much TT

(Warnings: death, blood, gore, yandere, demons, withcraft) 

Mammon often commented on how different you were from the other witches he formed pacts with. 

He’d constantly grumble about you being too soft, too caring. But you knew he secretly liked the constant quips of encouragement you gave him. He was insecure, something you empathized with, so you’d always tell him how amazing he was, how you really appreciated him in your life. 

And for that, you couldn’t blame him for being clingy. He was never too touchy but his actions had just enough desperation to make you want to ignore it. 

The one thing you couldn’t ignore, however, was the unrelenting stench of death. 

Your eyes remained fixed straight ahead, forcing yourself to look anywhere but the dead bodies on the floor. You refused to count them, all what you could see were their massacred faces, the blood, the broken bones, before you felt yourself grow nauseous. 

So you stared straight ahead, keeping your gaze on Mammon’s back. 

He was in his demon form. He never used it in front of you, you’d almost forgotten he had one. You’d almost forgotten he was a demon.

You took a step back, keeping yourself away from the pool of blood. Your voice sounded stuffy, you couldn’t believe it was your own, how terrified it sounded. 

“Mammon?” You finally said, quietly, “What-what are you doing?” 

He turned, slowly, and you watched in agony as the man you knew as your friend flicked something red and sticky off his fingers. His eyes made contact with your own, and you thought he would try to kill you too. He’d rip out your heart, crushing it in his grasp as you squirmed on the floor before finally stilling. 

But it was his smile that made you bleed. 

“Hey~” He grinned, walking towards you, nonchalantly stepping over the bodies. 

You immediately stepped back and he paused, his grin fading. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked and your felt yourself grow faint. 

“No no no,” You shook your head, “Don’t-don’t say that...not right now, Mammon-” 

“-Mammon, did you...did you do this..?” 

‘Please say no. Lie if you have to. Just don’t say, please don’t say-’ 

“Don’t you remember these guys?” Mammon mentioned to the bodies, “They stole that potion from you, remember? I tracked ‘em down.” He grinned. 

“Now you don’t gotta’ worry about them stealing from you ever again.” 

You staggered back, Mammon’s words cutting you deeper than any clawed hand ever could. You remembered complaining to him, about the goons that broke into your home when you and him weren’t there, stealing something close to fifty dollars and a few elixirs before disappearing into the night sky. You remembered cursing them to damnation, carelessly wishing they were dead- 

He was so fast, too fast for you to comprehend before you could see him a few inches away from your face. His smile was soft, losing the egotistical shine they had a few moments ago. 

Delicately, he took your stiff fingers in his own, placing them on his cheek. It was a cheap replication of what you used to do. Something that had the action but not the emotion. 

“It took a long time trackin’ down these guys, ya’ know..” He mumbled, a soft blush looming on his face before he looked at you. 

“So, tell me I did a good job, will ya?”