#the title ‘she came in through the bathroom window’ has been on my mind for seven years

[pennyserenade]

i got high to write but now i’m listening to 70s dad music and feeling it intertwine with the very fabric of my being, like god intended

[uncouth-the-fifth]

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

_

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

_

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

_

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

[internnormaloak]

In Little Ways Chapter Three: I Don’t Wanna Be You Anymore (Mid September)

Summary: Hermie has a crisis in the bathroom when his makeup begins to run. Two unlikely heroes come and help.

Pairing: OakWorthy

Tags: Hurt/Comfort

CW: Self Hatred, Past Burning, Anxiety

Title from i don’t wanna be you anymore by Billie Eilish

Previous Chapter

Read On AO3

-

Hermie ran into the classroom, slamming the door behind him. He grabbed his bag and pulled out his mirror. He stared at his face, tears coming into his eyes. He grabbed some foundation and desperately tried to get it on his face where his makeup began to patch, revealing the intensive burns that he hid underneath. Shit, No, No, No, I can’t let people see this. When the foundation still didn’t look quite right he grabbed his concealer, however, it still looked wrong. He slammed the concealer down and realized his only chance of getting it to look right would be to completely start over. He looked out the window of the classroom and saw the halls empty as class had just begun. Hermie ran through the hall and into the unisex bathroom. He began to splash his face with water and started removing some of his makeup. He got off the rest with some makeup remover he kept in his bag. After it was off he just stared in the mirror.

He looked tired, he had been up all night unable to sleep. That’s why he fucked up so much at his makeup. He couldn’t believe he had let himself be such a failure. He’s an actor goddamnit, he should be able to convincingly play the version of himself he wants to be. He lives to perform.

It was so much easier when he was going through his Batman villain thing and just said it was part of his method of playing Two-Face, but that no longer worked. Partially because Normal would gently but firmly remind him that being in a character that long can not be healthy “and also Hermie is it possible you're avoiding your feelings because it’s easier to pretend?”

He wished he could call Normal or Taylor or anyone else in the gang to come help him, but he knows all of them are in class and just because he knows logically they would skip class to help him doesn’t mean he wants them too.

Plus, as much as he loved his dearest and his friends, the only one that was pretty good with makeup is Scary, and she seemed, to him, to be the least likely to help him with this problem. So any actual support he’d get from the gang would be emotional instead of practical.

He had lost track of time as he stared in the mirror and lost himself in his thoughts. The mirror was a bit grimey, the janitors rarely ever came in and cleaned it. The reflection that stared back at him was just as dirty as the mirror.

Fitting. He thought to himself, if he wasn’t so upset, he may have even laughed. A part of him wanted to clean the mirror, as if cleaning the vessel he saw himself in would make any of this better. As if cleaning the mirror made him any less stuck in his cycle of not trusting himself to put on the makeup, but never wanting to be seen without it.

Suddenly, he was startled into awareness by two people entering the bathroom. Fuck! He thought about trying to hide in a stall but as soon as he decided too, it was too late, he was spotted. He couldn’t hide this time.

He looked at the source of the voices, it was Erica and Margarita Pizza.

“Hermie?” Margarita asked. He was probably more familiar with her compared to Erica, but he wasn’t exactly friendly with either of them. Margarita had been in a couple of plays, something about needing the extra credit or something. Hermie wasn’t really paying attention to her at the time as he was too absorbed in perfecting his role, his study of the other characters in the show could come after he finished his own.

“The one and only,” He tried to say with his usual confidence but he knew he didn’t look the part, he turned back to the mirror. “Don’t mind me just trying to fix my makeup, I’ll be out of here soon.” He grabbed a brush with foundation on it though he even knew his hands were too shaky. Still, he begged whatever deity is up there, who clearly had been ignoring him recently, to listen just once and let Erica and Margarita just leave.

“Hermie, do you want help?” Margarita’s voice was strangely neutral, calm, if not a bit confused. He could hear her footsteps coming closer to him.

He looked over to her, she was staring at his burn scars, he looked down, this is exactly what he didn’t want.

“Oh you don’t have to, there's nothing I can’t handle.” He tried to smile but even he could feel it not quite reach his eyes.

“Hand me your makeup,” Erica demanded, she didn’t sound mad but her tone left no room for argument.

He passed over his bag, “It seems I have no choice here.”

He sat down on the bathroom counter while the other two went through the bag seeing the products he had. He wrapped his arms around himself and avoided the girl’s eyes.

“This foundation is not the best match for your skin tone.” Margarita said, giving him a quizzical look.

Hermie shrugged. “I must’ve grabbed the wrong one this morning. I took apart my bag last night, playing with different looks, and rushed to put it together this morning.”

Margarita just nodded, before her and Erica shared a look. After that they began the process. Hermie noticed them being extra careful on his scarred skin. He objectively knew that this was them trying to be kind but it still made him feel bad, different. But not good different like when he was on stage and people were amazed at how good he was for a high schooler and how he wasn’t like the others. Or even how he knew that he and his friends and boyfriend were different then other high school relationships and would last past high school. This different felt like a reminder of the problem when he used makeup for the opposite reason.

When they were almost done, Erica finally asked a question.

“So Hermie,”

How did you even end up with this Scar? He mentally braced himself.

“Your boyfriend, Normal, he’s never made you feel bad for your scars right?” She seemed to be looking deep into his eyes, “Like I know your whole thing with him is that you are overly-“

“-And obnoxiously” Margarita added,

“-In love with each other. But you know, closed doors and all that.”

Hermie shook his head, “No, he’s never said a single bad thing about how I look, in fact,” he gives a small smile, tiny but the most genuine of the day so far, “He constantly tells me that I’m beautiful and handsome and he’s so lucky, and he’ll support me no matter what.” He then smirks, “He’s a total simp.” Of course, he ignored that he is also a huge simp for Normal.

Erica and Margarita snorted but still looked at each other, having another quiet conversation. Erica put his makeup away and handed him the bag.

“Alright,” Margarita started, “But if he ever says anything do not hesitate to tell us. I know we aren’t like, friends, but like, that be shitty of him and we could destroy him if you need us too.”

“Yeah like, he’s not as low on the totem pole as before but I can and will send him below Pissfoot Gum Toucher if need be.”

“That’s very kind of you to offer, but I assure you that won’t ever be necessary.” Hermie got up off the counter and put his makeup in his book bag. He then finally looked in the mirror.

He looked great. His skin tone was even and it looked very natural, other than a subtle eye shadow look on his eyes that really brought out his eyes. His facial features seemed much more extenuated in the best possible way.

“Thank you guys, I-“

“-Look great, we know.” She started to walk into the corner, “Anyway, remember, sometimes the best way to use makeup is to bring attention to what’s already there, but just to cover it. Both uses are great, but I think people should know how to, and use both.”

“Anyway,” Margarita interjected before Hermie could respond, “We have horses to see during class, so we’re heading out. But we’ll see you around Hermie, yeah?”

“Yes, I‘ll be around.” He then turned away from the mirror.  “If you ever need anything just let me know okay?”

But by the time he turned around they were gone.

-

A/N: Hello, thank you for reading!

Please let me know what you think, I've been editing this chapter for like a week trying to get it to be the way it is in my head, but it still isn't, so I'm going to go ahead and post it.

Title is from i don't want to be you anymore by Billie Eilish

I hope you enjoyed!

-Cecil

[taechaos]

can u do more of jealous jk drabbles?👉👈

this one kinda cute but theres smut 😃

The best time of the day is when the sun is just over the horizon, taking on a blue and orange hue in the sky, not shining bright enough to blind or give a heat stroke to the crowd in the amusement park. Just enough illumination to not have to rely on the lights provided from the ferris wheel, neon titles above the rides and games you stand before.

You can't contain your squeal and shake your interlocked hands with Jungkook while bouncing on your feet, the three companies you came with much more casual about the occasion. "Where should we go first?!"

Your boyfriend shrugs, Soyeon glances at Taehyung who makes the decision: "Rollercoaster." He has a crazed grin on his face, the sparkle and mischief in his eyes matching yours. Both of you are extremely fond of these thrillers.

"A rollercoaster...? I'll wait for you guys," Soyeon sheepishly holds her nape with a smile. You coo at her.

Jungkook scoffs arrogantly, "Are you afraid too, baby? You can hold onto my arm."

You blow raspberries and clutch onto your friend's arm, "I love rollercoasters." You and Soyeon gaze into each other's eyes as you say, "Don't worry. It'll be fun if you come with me."

She blushes, Taehyung and Jungkook watching the interaction with quirked brows. How boy-friendly of you.

The seats were decided. You all bought the tickets, and it's your turn to hop on the carts. Girls sit in front of the boys, and Soyeon hesitantly places her hand on top of yours on the railing. Taehyung wraps his hands around Jungkook's arm, who is slouching in his seat with a frown.

"I'm so scared, Jungkookie," Taehyung's teeth chatter, "w-will you protect me?"

All the carts are secured as the ride slowly moves forward, slightly creaking as Jungkook groans, "Let go of my fucking arm!" Despite his relentless shaking, his best friend only holds on tighter.

"Why? Your girlfriend is having a sexual awakening with her buddy girl, why can't we?!"

Jungkook gapes at him, brows meeting in perplexity before he looks at the row across. The two of you have your heads leaning on each other, and no, that was the romantic scene he was supposed to have with you, not Taehyung who snuggles into him in whimsical fear.

"She's straight," he counters weakly, not even caring about his numbing arm from the sight before him.

The carts reach the peak of the tracks, a sense of adrenaline stirring in everyone's stomach and you squeeze Soyeon's hand comfortingly seconds before Taehyung's scream torments the whole population's ears. Needless to say, Jungkook had it the worst.

—————

Your boyfriend winces with a finger in his left ear as he follows the group with Taehyung next to him, behind you and Soyeon.

"Remind me to never go on a rollercoaster with you," he seethes intimidatingly, emitting a snort from the guilty.

"Ooh, bumper cars!" Taehyung childishly points at the competitive game. Jungkook smiles wickedly, "I'm going to give you a fucking concussi–"

"Boys against girls!" Soyeon chirps, and you gasp at the amazing idea.

"Yes! That'd be so fun!"

Upon seeing Jungkook's incredulous face, Taehyung bursts out in laugher and clutches his stomach, tearing up when he instantly goes in denial mode.

Which didn't help, because Soyeon stole you for herself once more and he is stuck with the dumbest person he's ever met once more.

"Let's beat those bitches."

"That's my girlfriend, Tae."

Those words were thrown out the window the moment the game began, because he became ruthless. Even Taehyung was getting nauseous from how violently the car was bumping against yours, the one Soyeon claimed shotgun in, rocking your bodies back and forth. It's revenge for not giving him the attention he rightfully deserves, and leaving him with who was supposed to be a fourth wheel.

No mercy, you must suffer.

When you all got off the ride, Taehyung couldn't stop stumbling all over the place.

"I'm going to throw up," he groans and pinches Jungkook's shirt.

"That settles it: I won," he shrugs triumphantly. Soyeon is quick to bite back, "You almost killed us."

"Oh no," you jump to his defence with a giggle, "he's just very competitive."

Your boyfriend smiles at your first acknowledgement of his existence, relieved as he throws an arm around you. "I'm not about to lose to a bunch of–"

"Please don't finish that sentence," you smile at him; sickly sweet with your warning.

He forces a chuckle, "–a bunch of strong, independent women."

—————

"You ever seen lesbian porn, Jungkook?" Taehyung asks as he licks up a fat stripe on his ice cream. Jungkook doesn't bother responding. "It usually begins with one girl being all shy and reluctant until the sexual tension becomes too much. Say they're studying, gossipping, whatever, the normal stuff. Then... one of them makes the first move, and the other eventually gets into it." He glances at his friend to measure his reaction; nonchalant and barely listening. "Oh, but I have a boyfriend, oh this is wrong, oh friends don't do this," he imitates in a higher pitch. "Then they fuck."

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asks, flabbergasted and annoyed. He's holding onto your ice cream after you left to the bathroom with your friend, Taehyung protecting hers and licking the melted drops to keep the cone clean. What Soyeon doesn't know won't hurt her; the flavor is too good for him to waste.

"I'm just saying man, you never know with these girls," his cheeks puff out as he suppresses a laugh. Jungkook's paranoia is easy to mess with, and he knows he shouldn't do it so often, but it's just so fun. A snort slips.

"They've been roommates for two years, I'm sure if she was bisexual, she'd know by now," he spits defensively.

"Oh my God, do you think they got drunk and kiss–"

"We're back!" you announce and take your cone from Jungkook's hand, your friend doing the same.

"Welcome back, baby," he stands up to hug you, effectively pulling you a few steps away from Soyeon with a glare. You relish in it with joy, mushing your face against his chest.

"What should we go on next?" Taehyung casually cuts into your display of affection.

"The ferris wheel, maybe? Oh, Soyeon, you have–" you point at the corner of your lip, and she mirrors the opposite side, prompting you to reach out a hand and wipe off the stain with your thumb. Jungkook blinks in astonishment. Taehyung's eyes widen to saucers as he watches his soul leave his body. His words are getting to him.

Your hand is snatched away in a flash, and you're dragged away back to the stalls where he corners you, answering your unspoken question: "Hey, just wanted to privately ask you how your date is going with Soy milk." His voice drips with sarcasm, the attitude catching you off guard.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, I feel like I'm third wheeling in front of my own girlfriend," he scowls, and your heart drops. "You haven't done a single thing with me today. I thought we came here to spend time with each other, yet we've done anything but. Be honest, are you..." he gulps and averts his gaze, "is there something going on...?"

"Jungkook," you startle and place a hand on his chest, "it's nothing like that. Of course I wanted to spend time with you, but Soyeon's been trying really hard to mend our friendship so I thought I would reciprocate. I didn't want things to be awkward between us, but I didn't realize I was neglecting you. I'm really sorry, love."

Your explanation endears him, shoulders slouching in relief just before he murmurs, "But in lesbian porn..."

"Oh my God," you exclaim in disbelief with a laugh, "I just hung out with her."

"You know I get needy!" he frowns with flushed cheeks. "That bitch wouldn't let go of you for one goddamned second, if I didn't know better I would've dragged you away a lot sooner."

You coo at him and squeeze his cheeks before he shakes you off grumpily. "I was going to go on the ferris wheel to make it up to you."

"Oh wow," he rolls his eyes, "can't believe you found the time to think about me."

"So jealous," you tease.

"Shut up," he pushes your forehead with his finger, "before I try to mend my friendship with Soy milk as well."

"She is not your friend," you glare at him with hooded eyes.

"So jealous."

—————

"The ride is five minutes long," Jungkook blurts out of thin air the moment you step into the moving cabin. "And we're going to stop at the top." At your gasp, he continues as he takes a seat, "Yeah, I did that movie cliché and paid extra."

"Jungkook," you coo with doe eyes and lay your head on his shoulder, "that's so romantic."

"Hey, don't get all cute. You said you were going to make it up to me." He tilts your chin, "How far are you willing to go?"

His question doesn't throw you off, and you chuckle, "Whatever you want."

"Yeah? Your time is running out," he looks past the window to see how high up you are. Four meters off the ground, give or take. "You think you can make me cum before we get off?"

Oh. "Better choose fast–"

You fondle with the buckle of his belt and make quick work of your hands to pull down his black jeans that hug his thighs. You lick your lips for moisture, and after what some experiences have thought you, you know to spit in your hand before wrapping your fingers around him.

"Damn, you didn't come here to play," he releases a humored breath as he watches you get him off. As if the limited time isn't bad enough, you have to get him erect in remarkable speed as well. He shifts slightly with a deep sigh, and when his cock starts to grow, you get on your knees before him and take the head of his length in your mouth. He sucks his teeth and weaves his fingers through your hair as he closes his eyes. Thirteen meters off the ground.

Mindful of your pace, you ease his length inside by taking him inch by inch, swirling your tongue the way he likes it and bobbing your head. His grip on your hair tightens as a low grunt resounds in the cabin. "You're doing so well," he looks down at you with half hooded eyes, lustful in their gaze, "you want to make it up to me that bad? Want to please me? Gosh," he sighs.

You deepthroat him with your hand covering what you can't reach until he thrusts into your mouth. You gag in reflex, and he uses your hair as leverage to do the rest for you. It's sloppy now, and saliva drools from the corner of your mouth with welling tears. You can only hope he reaches climax in time. Twenty two feet off the ground.

When his thrusts begin to slow down, you take it as your cue to pull away and jerk him off, your tongue taking care of the tip as his breaths grow more and more shallow. You assume he's holding back moans as to not attract any attention to your cabin. Thirty one meters. You make it a challenge for yourself to make him cum by the timr you reach the peak.

"Ah, go faster," he furrows his brows, face twisting in pleasure as he leans back on his seat. Your scalp starts to sting from his strong grasp.

Your hand listens, and you suck harder on the head while teasing the slit, and he gasps louder each passing second. He's panting while forty three feet off the ground, and a few moments later, his hips lift off the seat as he groans, his release on your tongue that you swallow. It comes in stutters, so you keep your mouth on him until you've swallowed every drop to avoid getting banned from the amusement park. Calling it simply taboo is an underestimatement.

"Shit, shit," he breathlessly says and thrusts into your mouth two last times before pulling out, a string of saliva still attached to your mouth. The ferris wheel stops. "You were fucking perfect, baby," he murmurs and his head goes limp, eyes dazed from the climax. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and smile despite the ache in your jaw.

"Thank you," you squeak and sit next to him. His head rolls to you. "Is my face okay?"

"Oh, you wore lipstick," he laughs quietly and uses the hem of his matching black shirt to clean up the smudge, his stomach on display from the action. You sit still as he fixes up your appearance, brushing your disheveled hair with his fingers, and just to be extra, he adjusts your collar, making you giggle and roll your eyes. "Like nothing happened. I'll eat you out at my dorm to return the favor."

You blush in surprise at his words, but he dismisses it by looking at the view. The sun has set, and all the lights sparkle from under you and the midnight black sky. It's beautiful. You admire it with him.

"I can't believe I paid extra for this. There's not even fireworks."

BONUS:

Soyeon and Taehyung sit across from each other without averting their gaze from the sky, effectively ignoring the presence of one another until he breaks the silence. "This is so romantic."

"Yeah."

"If we were a couple, this would be the perfect moment to kiss."

"Um... I guess," she shrugs off his unusual flirting.

"You want to be a couple for this ride?" he suggests and looks at her with wiggling brows.

She doesn't return the stare, softly speaking, "No, I think I'd rather jump off."

He chuckles under his breath, "Jungkook is going to have a field day when he finds out you're lesbian."

"Huh?"

"I said why don't you jump on this dick."

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 8 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Chapter 8 is here!

Title: Succession Chapter 8

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, OC

Rating: R for language and explicit gore (may be triggering with the descriptions of the bodies in the factory)

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary.  While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter 8

The soft tugging of your wrists woke you from sleep.  You blinked rapidly and looked up to see Heisenberg removing the cuffs and setting them on the floor.

“What are you doing?” you asked, bringing your hands close to your body and rubbing your wrists.

“Sorry to wake you,” Heisenberg murmured, “but I’m going to work for a while downstairs...didn’t want you to be shackled to the bed the whole time.  Do you need to use the bathroom before I go?”

You nodded your head, realizing you were in need of the facilities.  Standing slowly to your feet, you padded to the door and walked across the way into the bathroom.  Once you relieved yourself, you washed your hands and made your way back to the room.

“I’ll be down there for several hours,” Heisenberg said as he rinsed his hands in the sink, “I’ll probably skip lunch.  Help yourself to whatever is in the refrigerator.”

You thanked him and curled back up under the covers.  You couldn’t believe it, but this fucked-up picture of domesticity was starting to grow on you.  Last night’s dinner outside at sunset was quite pleasant.  Heisenberg didn’t talk much aside from the occasional grunt or nod if you said anything.  It seemed that something was weighing on his mind.  And when you asked him what he had been working on at his desk a few hours earlier, he once again told you to mind your business.

Heisenberg put on his hat, sunglasses, and trenchcoat and left without another word, closing the door behind him.

You fell asleep for another three hours before finally waking up and looking over at his clock on his nightstand.  The time read 11:46am.

Rising from the bed, you cooked yourself some breakfast and filled a mug full of water.  You ate leisurely and leafed through a fashion magazine that had been stuffed into one of the suitcases Heisenberg had brought from the crash site.  

Once you were finished with your plates, you washed them in the sink and put them away.  You had made up your mind that you were going to shower.  You hadn’t washed since Heisenberg brought you here and it was creeping up on day three...or was it day four...five maybe?  Either way, you needed to wash.

You gathered your shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and sponge.  You also reached for your razor and shaving cream.  It had been several days since you shaved your legs and you wanted to be clean and smooth...just in case…

No, you thought, not because of Heisenberg!  But because I want to get back to feeling normal again!

There were a couple of towels hanging over the windowed walls of the shower, no doubt used by Heisenberg himself.  You made a mental note to ask him for towels of your own when he got back…

Then it occurred to you.  When he left, he closed the door, but you didn’t hear the loud click that his key usually made in the lock...

He didn’t lock the door.

*

As you shaved and showered, you mentally weighed the pros and cons of whether or not you should leave Heisenberg’s living quarters.  He had never not locked the door.  Maybe whatever work he had planned was at the forefront of his mind and he had simply forgotten to lock the door.  Or maybe, just as he trusted you to go back and forth from the bathroom without him keeping watch over you, maybe he was starting to trust you not to leave the room.

The monotony of the room was starting to become boring...perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to walk around and stretch your legs.

You put on a pair of jeans, a long sleeved shirt, socks, and sneakers. Promising yourself that you wouldn’t walk too far, you opened the door quietly and peeked out into the hallway, looking right and left.  Heisenberg wasn’t in the vicinity.  The usual sounds of the factory rang out in the distance.  You strained your hearing to listen for footsteps.  Except for you, the area was empty.

Pushing the door all the way open, you stepped out into the hall.  You walked down the hallway, making sure to keep your steps light and quiet.  The pounding of your pulse was ringing in your ears and you were terrified of Heisenberg finding you outside of his living quarters.   He would not be happy with you if he could see you at that moment.

You walked to a closed door and opened it to see the suspended walkway you had run across on your first day.  The noises were louder as you looked out among the metal, chains, steam, and rotating bodies.  A large body of water was several feet below you.  You stood there for a minute and looked all around, afraid that Heisenberg would be nearby and see you on the walkway.

The coast was clear.  You quickened your pace as you walked, making sure to tiptoe.  You reached the door on the other side, pushing it open.

This was uncharted territory. You didn’t know what was around the corner and made a mental note of which way you turned, how many flights of stairs you went up and down, and factory signs.  The signs were written in Romanian, but you sounded them out in your head in hopes you would remember your way back.

Occasionally you would open a door or two along the way, poking your head in and scanning the rooms.  A part of you felt guilty...you were being invasive and nosy.  This was Heisenberg’s home and even though he was keeping you here against your will, you thought it unlikely that he would want you poking around in his factory.  You could picture him now:  his brows furrowing, his gloved hands balling into fists, and his mighty voice booming as he yelled at you to get back to his quarters.

Dear god, why did that turn you on?

You had descended stairs earlier and hadn’t seen another set in quite a while, so you assumed you were down in the dregs of the factory.  It started to feel warmer the further down you went.  Why wasn’t Heisenberg’s room down here instead of higher up where the cold slid in through the walls so effortlessly?

You turned a corner and came up to a heavy steel door that was slightly ajar.  Leaning forward, you peered down a dark hall...with bodies hanging along the right side.  “Oh my god…” you whispered.  You couldn’t tell whether they were alive or dead, but a gas mask sat over each of their mouths and they hung from a tight leather strap wrapped around the breastbone and up under their arms.  Their skin was pale and their eyes closed.

Keeping your back flat against the left side of the hallway, you quietly and slowly made your way across.  You counted in your head...one, two, three, four, five, six bodies spaced out along the hallway.  Was this part of the work that Heisenberg was doing around here?  You shook your head.  Why was he doing this?  What was he doing with all of these bodies?

Another steel door was at the end of the hall and you silently turned the knob and pushed it open.

Upon entering the large room, you gasped audibly, your eyes wide.  The place looked like a morgue.  Five steel tables sat in the room...with five more corpses lying on top of them.  They each looked recently dead, their skin not as pale as the men hanging in the hallway behind you.  Decomposition had not occured yet.  The bodies had various trauma to them.  One was missing an arm.  One had its left leg sewed on.  

The other three were fitted with a visor over their eyes.  They laid shirtless on the tables.  One was a woman, her bare breasts visible with a gaping hole in her chest where her heart was supposed to be.  She was clothed from the waist down in a uniform that looked familiar...she was wearing a flight attendant’s uniform.  Could this be one of the attendants from your plane???

The other two bodies had something different over their left chest.  A circular metal contraption was lodged inside.  “What the fuck…” you murmured softly, walking amongst the carnage.  You were beginning to think that maybe you should have stayed inside Heisenberg’s quarters.

A door was opened on the other side of the room.  You crept towards it and looked inside.  The room stretched out before you and you could see a steel wall in the middle, separating one section of the room from the other.  A steel table stood next to the edge of the wall and you saw that you would have to circle it to see what was on the other side.  Swallowing the growing anxiety in your throat, you stepped closer.  

You reached the table and the wall and leaned forward, peering into the room.  Your mouth dropped, your eyes widened, and you gasped loudly.

“Bruce???”

Bruce Williams sat in what looked like a dentist’s chair, his body slumped forward.  A visor, just like the ones the three bodies were fitted with in the previous room, was also sitting over his eyes.  Three or four tubes were hanging from the ceiling and plugged into different areas on his body.  But the worst thing was his arm...the forearm from the elbow down was missing...and what replaced it was an electric saw.

A tear rolled down your cheek.  Oh, god, Bruce, you thought, what happened to you?

Before you were able to put two and two together, there was movement behind Bruce’s body.  An open door was against the back wall and Heisenberg entered the room, both of his hands holding surgical tools.  He stopped in his tracks when he looked up and saw you standing before Bruce.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Heisenberg growled, “how did you get out of my room?”

Panic, disbelief, and terror surged through your body.  You found yourself mourning for Bruce all over again and being gripped with fear over being caught...but even greater, fury had begun to make your blood boil.

“What is this?!?!” you cried out shrilly, “what are you doing to him???  Bruce...he was seated next to me on the plane!!!  OH DEAR GOD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM???”  You took several steps back, your fingers gripping your hair.  This was not happening....this was not happening...you were dreaming again…

“Y/N, let me explain…” Heisenberg said, fastly approaching you, putting his tools down on the table.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!” you screamed, turning on your heels and running out of the room.  You ran into one of the bodies on the table, your body falling forward.  Your chin touched its cold skin and you let out another loud scream.

“Y/N, stop!” Heisenberg commanded.  You felt him behind you, his hands gripping your shoulders.  You yelped and whirled around, shoving his body away from you.  You ran for the exit just as one of the tables with a body flew out in front of you, blocking your path.

Adrenaline was pumping through you and you quickly ran around the table and out of the door.  You ran down the hallway, ignoring the hanging bodies, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Y/N!!” Heisenberg yelled as he ran after you.  You were in total flight mode and you couldn’t remember which way was up.  The little notes you had jotted in your memory were long gone and you had no idea how to get out of the factory.

As you turned a corner, you saw a large industrial lift.  You darted inside, gripping the sliding elevator door from above, and pulled it down shut.  Looking over at the buttons, you hit the UP arrow rapidly in pure panic.

Heisenberg ran full force at the door, his fingers wrapping around the wooden railings.  You screamed loudly, scrambling back against the other side of the lift, pressing your back against the wall.

“Y/N!!” Heisenberg shouted, “Y/N, STOP!!! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!!!”

The elevator lift began to ascend, putting more and more space between you and Heisenberg.  You could hear him shaking the wooden railings, screaming your name over and over.  Looking upwards, you watched with growing impatience as the lift slowly made its way higher and higher until it stopped at the very top.

There was a metal door before you with thin railings.  You looked between them to see a small field surrounded by a barbed wire fence.  The metal door was shut tight.  You started to kick at the door and shove your shoulder against it, desperate for it to open.  After what felt like several moments, you shoved your body once again and the door flew open.  You spilled into the grass and looked around wildly.  Where could you go?  Where could you hide?

You looked to the left and saw a small section of fence that was rusted and pushed back, creating a space that would allow you to escape.  Running as fast as your legs could take you, you pushed at the wire and slithered your body through the hole.  Jagged edges snagged your skin and your clothes, but you were too fueled by panic to worry about scratches.

After clearing the fence, you jumped to your feet and ran towards the trees and the mountains, desperate to get as far away from Heisenberg as you could.

[rere-the-writer]

Title- 'Centuries of waiting' part 2

Warnings: Fluff, shitty older brother, Jealous!Hayley, some angst

Summary: Klaus has murder on his mind, Y/N tells how she ended up with the Elite, Elijah just wants to spoil and love on his soulmate.

A/N: Dudes I got it a little angsty between Elijah and Hayley. This is what I get for listening to 'Battlefield' by Lea Michele while writing.

Morning sunlight shined though Elijah's bedroom window waking him up and found you asleep on top of him. This made him smile glad you were comfortable with him as if you had been with him forever. Elijah ran his fingers down your back as you nuzzled his neck feeling comfort settled over the bond.

"Elijah." You muttered sleepily as Elijah smiled kissing your head feeling you shift on his chest only to roll off onto the bed making him smile. While Elijah wondered how you ended up with the Elite but he didn't rush to push to tell him as he was focused on your needs at the moment.

"Morning beautiful." Elijah said cupping your cheek smiling when you hid your blushing face in a pillow. Elijah chuckled leaning over pressing kisses on your neck as he tried to not flood the bond with adoration and love as to not to overwhelm you.

"Goodmorning." You muttered as Elijah gently urged you out of bed. You yawned getting up only to be picked up by Elijah and taken to the bathroom. You were surprised with how soft Elijah was with you as he was far from the stories the Elite told.

"Something on your mind, little heart?" Elijah asked softly brushing your hair from your face pulling you from your thoughts.

"It isn't nothing to worry about....you are just really different from the stories the Elite told." You answered Elijah as he frowned and looked at you when you reached up cupping his face.

"You don't scare me, Elijah. Because if you really the monster they say I shouldn't be alive." You tell your soulmate softly as Elijah leaned down to kiss you while you both flooded the bond with 'I love you.'.

"Breakfast is ready, Elijah." Hayley said crossing her arms still not liking how Elijah seemly had completely trusted the fact you were his soulmate.

"Sleep well Elijah?" Caroline asked with a smirk on her face watching Elijah once again pulling you into his lap. Elijah chuckled knowing what the blonde vampire was asking as he rubbed your side.

"I'm giving her a chance to get use to this first Caroline." Elijah said making the blonde giggle as you blinked looking at Elijah who just smiled at you kissing your nose.

"Goodmorning all." Klaus said smirking as he walked into the kitchen stealing a quick kiss from Caroline. Elijah raised an eyebrow noting the smirk and looked at Rebekah who noticed too.

"Have plans for today Niklaus?" Elijah asked stealing a grape off your fork making you pout but an idea popped in your head and began to feed Elijah some of your fruit salad.

"Yes. Murder." Klaus said as his smirk darken as he sat down looking at you getting a low growl from Elijah as his hold on you tighten making you look at Elijah comforting him through the bond.

"Niklaus."

"No need to worry brother. I was thinking your little soulmate goes out spend the day with the girls while we plot the death of the Elite." Klaus says leaning back against the chair as Elijah calmed down opening his mouth as you fed him a piece of melon.

"What about the first Sired?"

"They are no worry as of right now Hayley." Klaus says as he was itching to kill those that harmed you. You were family now so those that hurt you will meet his rage. You smiled feeding Elijah another grape which he happily took eyes twinkling with joy.

"Will you be okay?" You asked toying with the pendant of the Mikaelson Crest Elijah had gifted you. Elijah was making sure you were ready for your outing with the girls.

"Don't worry about me, little heart. Buy whatever you want." Elijah tells you handing you his credit card as he kissed your forehead. You blushed knowing Elijah wanted to spoil you again. You said a goodbye to Elijah then hurried to Rebekah's side.

"So Y/N were did you come from?" Hayley asked watching you as you blinked trying to remember since you had been with the Elite for a long while. It also didn't help the Elite would compel you and others for complete control.

"New York....I was a ballerina." You answered Hayley trying really hard to remember as Caroline stepped next to you smiling softly.

"Hey don't worry about not remembering right now. We have a dress to get you." Caroline says looping her arm with yours with Rebekah on the other side of you smiling also. The four of you had bought some nice dresses and some shoes more so Rebekah and Caroline was going to help you pick out a gorgeous dress for the Strix party Elijah was invited to.

"How did you end up with the Elite?" Hayley asked you watching you stop looking though dresses and put your head down. Rebekah was by your side in a blink of an eye seeing you shake and Caroline rubbed your back seeing tears fall down your face.

".....my older brother......sold me to them." You said as the memories came flooding back and your tears wouldn't stop.

"Once he found out I was a soulmate to an Original....he knew he could pay off his debts." You said shivering remembering how the leader of the Elite looked at you like you were a piece of meat. You also remember how your brother was okay with selling you off.

"How about we get you home." Caroline said softly as she lead you out of the store and Rebekah pays for your dress while Hayley felt a little guilty for bringing it up. Once back at the compound you surprised Elijah by climbing into his lap and buried your face in his neck your tears wetting the collar of his shirt.

"Baby?" Elijah asked softly as he wrapped his arms around you searching the bond for answers but only felt an overwhelming sadness and fear. So Elijah listen to Rebekah and Caroline explain to Klaus on why you were acting like this.

"Elijah?" Hayley said softly a moment later seeing that the Original hadn't moved from his chair as you had fell asleep against him. Elijah looked at her then focused his attention back on you, he had removed your heels and wrapped you in a blanket.

"Why are you pushing her away? Is it because she is my soulmate?" Elijah asked Hayley as the female hybrid crossed her arms.

"I just think you are rushing to fast on wanting it to be true."

"You don't believe that she is. Even though Freya said the bond was real." Elijah said freezing when you shifted then relaxed when you settled against his chest.

"Elijah, don't you find it a little suspicious that she shows up right when the Sired did?"

"No. The Elite had been in New Orleans longer than the Sired had from what Marceltold us." Elijah said as he stood up hold you bridal style. Elijah looked at Hayley.

"I loved you that I cannot deny Hayley but choose to marry Jackson. So if you really did love me you would have fought for us now allow me this happiness." Elijah said walking past her pausing at the door away.

"Maybe in a different life we could have loved one another. But I want to be happy Hayley and not waiting on what ifs." Elijah said softly before walking away not seeing the tear roll down Hayley's cheek.

You woke seeing it was dark out and felt Elijah pulling you back against his chest letting you roll over.

"I am sorry for earlier."

"It is fine little heart. You are still adjusting to this and the bond." Elijah says softly running his fingers through your hair.

"But....."

"No buts. The compulsion you were under us coming undone due to our bond. Hayley should have been more careful when asking about your past."

"Oh....were you two a thing?" You asked as you saw how Hayley would look at Elijah. It made you feel a little insecure but you felt Elijah flood the bond with love.

"We were but she married another. I loved her deeply I had gave up looking for you believing that I didn't have a soulmate."

"But when I felt you reach out that spark love lit with in me so I started searching for you. Hayley thought it was witches messing with me but when the auction came and I saw you....I just knew and all I wanted was you."

You looked at Elijah eyes tearing up leaning in kissing him softly and Elijah responded to the kiss right away. You squeaked as he lifted you placing you on top of him and your hands were on his chest.

"Elijah." You whispered sounding a bit whiny as Elijah pulled you down kissing you again. His hands were on your hips moving under your skirt as you both got more needy with your kisses and clothes went flying.

"I love you Elijah."

"I love you too my little heart." Elijah says softly drowning his self in your touch knowing he wasn't going to let you go.

[rolloroberson]

The Beatles Get Back/Let it Be recording sessions at Twickenham Studios, circa January 9, 1969, from the Beatles Get Back Book. Location: Twickenham Film Studios / Apple Studios. Photography by Linda McCartney / Linda Enterprises Ltd. © Paul McCartney (https://www.thebeatles.com/beatles-get-back-book).

The full list of songs recorded on this day, including fragments and off-the-cuff, unpublished songs with presumed titles (plus primary composer/best-known performer):

* Another Day (McCartney)

* The Palace Of The King Of The Birds (McCartney)

* ‘Let It Be’ (16 versions)

* ‘The Long And Winding Road’ (five versions)

* ‘Her Majesty’

* ‘Golden Slumbers’

* ‘Carry That Weight’

* ‘Oh! Darling’

* ‘For You Blue’ (15 versions)

* ‘Two Of Us’ (eight versions)

* Baa, Baa, Black Sheep (trad)

* ‘Don’t Let Me Down’

* Suzy’s Parlour (Lennon)

* ‘I’ve Got A Feeling’ (five versions)

* ‘One After 909’ (four versions)

* ‘Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)’

* ‘She Came In Through The Bathroom Window’ (seven versions)

* ‘Be-Bop-A-Lula’ (Gene Vincent)

* ‘Get Back’ (six versions)

* Penina (McCartney)

* ‘Across The Universe’ (12 versions)

* ‘Teddy Boy’ (McCartney)

* ‘Junk’ (McCartney)

* Move It (Cliff Richard and The Drifters)

* ‘Good Rockin’ Tonight’ (Elvis Presley)

* Tennessee (Carl Perkins)

* House Of The Rising Sun (The Animals)

* ‘Honey Hush’ (The Johnny Burnette Trio)

* Hitch Hike (Marvin Gaye)

* ‘All Together Now’

* I Threw It All Away (Bob Dylan)

* Mama, You Been On My Mind (Bob Dylan)

* ‘That’ll Be The Day’ (Buddy Holly)

* Jenny, Jenny (Little Richard)

* Slippin’ And Slidin’ (Little Richard)

* Shakin’ In The Sixties* (Lennon)

* Commonwealth* (Lennon-McCartney)

* Enoch Powell* (McCartney)

* Get Off* (Lennon-McCartney)

* Quit Your Messing Around* (Lennon)

* Ramblin’ Woman* (Harrison)

[thran-duils]

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.21)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Twenty One) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers.  Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 3,051 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Twenty || Part Twenty Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“What the hell happened?” Rhodey demanded after a few moments of awkward silence after Steve had stormed out.

Happy had closed the door after Steve, also looking at Tony now with expectation for an answer.

“Nothing,” Tony said aggressively, pushing the reactor and the suit began retracting.

“Nothing? You don’t get to cause that uproar here in the facility and then not give any of us an answer—” Rhodey started to argue.

“Who’s in charge here?” Tony interrupted him shortly.

Rhodey shook his head, “Tony, that’s not fair. And you know it.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Tony quipped, walking over to his desk to snatch up his phone. He began texting quickly.

“If something is going on between you two, the rest of the team deserves to know! Especially since you’re pulling the ‘who is in charge’ card. That’s the two of you!” Rhodey said. “You manage a lot of people and factions are not what the operation needs to function properly.” He stepped closer and continued, “It’s her isn’t it? Heard pregnancy test and that’s not hard to deduce why both of you would be concerned about that.”

Tony was scrolling through his phone, not answering Rhodey.

Irked, Rhodey pressed, “I don’t know why the two of you thought sharing was going to work out. You are both hardheaded, sons of—”

“Rhodey, if you’re going to continue nagging at me like an old lady, please just leave. I’m busy,” Tony interjected again, distracted still.

“No! You need to be open!” Rhodey shouted, finally fully catching Tony’s attention. Happy rose his brows in surprise at his boldness. “You two just almost plummeted each other.”

Tony ground his teeth, staring Rhodey down. Exhaling sharply, he finally said, “Fine. Yes. You’re right. Her. And you know, everything was going fine before Steve started having his martial problems. And he started playing fast and loose with Y/N’s safety. He brought her on a mission a couple of days ago – with Bucky and Sam, mind you, so they’re also on my shit list – using her as a pawn and she had no idea what was going on. He left her on a boat with Qian and Perez. Got her caught it the middle of the crossfire, so that was a fun clean up job for me.” That was shock to Rhodey and Happy, both of them caught off guard. “So, yeah, I’m a little fucking piqued, you could say. He’s spiraling because of things at home.” He paused for a beat before sighing, “And he was fucking with her birth control. So, hey, I might be a dad. Again. Even if I didn’t want that.”

Tony all but collapsed into his chair behind his desk, tossing his phone down on the desk. “I don’t know if I should move her. I told him to stay away, and he lured me away and snuck in there and took her. He has a key.”

Rhodey was silent for the first time in the conversation but Happy offered, “It might be for the best.” Tony turned his attention to him and Happy continued, “If you are really worried about it. Removing temptation… sometimes that is the best medicine.”

<><><>

“Let’s go,” Steve said shortly, coming into the locker room. He threw open his locker and reached inside for the freshly washed uniform.

“What the hell happened?” Sam demanded, seeing how disheveled Steve was. He was fresh out of the shower after having done an intense work out.

“Nothing. I’m gonna get suited up and start working. Are you going to join?”

“What do you mean ‘nothing’? Your chin is cut up and—”

Steve barked, shutting Sam up, “I said nothing happened, Sam!” He tossed his suit on the bench behind him and began working at the buttons on his three piece to get undressed.

Sam stood up, gripping at the towel around his waist, staring Steve down. He glared as Steve tossed his suit jacket onto the bench and ripped his tie off. Steve noticed his glare and his hands began to falter under the intensity until they slowly fell. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, and his belt undone.

Evenly, Sam asked, “What happened? What is going on?”

Steve sighed heavily, his hands coming to his hips, head hanging. He was quiet for a few moments, breathing deeply. His voice was quiet when he admitted, “Tony and I got into it. Badly. Right in his office. I… he pissed me off and I just saw red. He hit where he shouldn’t have and he did it on purpose to get a rise out of me. And I fell for it. Like a fucking idiot.” He rubbed at his face. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Take a step back.”

“It’s not as easy as that, Sam!”

“I mean from work. Take some time. You don’t need to throw yourself into this just to escape whatever is happening. Take a step back from work and focus on the shit in your personal life.”

Steve chewed on his lip before saying quietly, “You’re right.” He nodded this time and repeated, “You’re right. I… I need…”

Sam cut in, picking up his slack. “You need to do what’s best for you and your wife. That’s what’s important.”

Steve nodded again. Sam was not privy to his relationship with Y/N. All he knew was she was a prostitute that Steve visited sometimes. But he was right on one thing; he did want his relationship better with his wife. And right now, that was something that was going to be easier to control than his relationship with Y/N.

<><><>

Sitting at the table, eating lunch, you heard voices outside the hall coming closer and you put your fork down. The front door opened, and Tony walked in, followed by a handful of men. Luna booked it from her cat tower down the hallway towards the bedroom at the crowd. You stared at them confused as Tony was giving them directions about what to pack together. You spotted a few bringing in copious amounts of broken down moving boxes, carrying packing tape.

“Bedroom things first. That’s the most important. She needs somewhere to sleep obviously. The bed is easily broken down. The tools for it… I think are in the top drawer of the nightstand on the far side of the bed by the window. I made sure it would be nearby,” Tony was telling a few of them. He had failed to look or notice you at the table, sitting there bewildered. “I saw the cat run down there, so close the door when you go in. She’ll probably run into the closet if she’s under the bed. I just want her corralled and out of the way of everyone else. Do not – and I repeat, do NOT – let her out! We’ll get her into the cat carrier after everything is packed up. And you all are in charge of making sure that bed is ready to go at the new condo.”

New condo?

He turned towards a few more of them and said, “Start breaking down the living room.” To the last couple, he said, “The bathroom. Be sure to properly label everything.”

Tony finally laid eyes on you and walked over to the kitchen table, pulling out his cell phone. “How are you doing, love?”

“How am I… what is happening?” you inquired.

“You’re moving,” Tony informed you, texting.

The men were already setting to work, and you moved your gaze around the apartment in disbelief. Who were these guys and what in the actual fuck was going on?

“Why?” you asked confused.

“Because. I found somewhere better priced.”

“Where?”

“Carnegie Hill.”

That was his neighborhood. He had told you that before, to your immense surprise, giving away his home location. But he had – as you suspected – started trusting you more in recent months. Why was he moving you closer to his family? And especially in that neighborhood? Cheaper? You were hard pressed to believe that bald-faced lie.

“You found something cheaper there than this?” you asked him, completely disbelieving.

“Yep,” Tony told you curtly, still not looking up from his phone. “A nice condo. Nice dropped living room and dining room. Iron work looks great.” You were staring at him intensely as he clicked away on his phone. He felt the burn of your stare and looked up. “What?”

Exasperated you threw your hands out, “What… Tony! I’m just sitting here eating lunch and all these people are in here now and just packing up my stuff! And you’re telling me I’m moving!”

Tony exhaled sharply, tossing his phone onto the table as he pulled out a chair beside you and sat down. Leaning in close he said, “You’re moving closer to me. It’s easier.”

“Easier?”

“Better,” he offered.

“Why? So I can run into your wife into one of the coffee shops and she can maul my face there?”

Tony’s expression was hard, and you really could not give a shit less. You had already told him how you felt about being in close proximity with her.

“First off, Alessia does not go get her own coffee. She sends people for that, Or she has the maid make it for her in her French press. Hell would freeze over the day she was asked to stand in a line and agree to it,” Tony started out, his tone tight. “And secondly, only I will have a key to the place.”

Reality set in on what he was doing. He was leaving Steve out. Did Steve even know this was going on? The memory of Tony last night telling you that he loved you outright flashed through your mind. He had been furious when he had learned what Steve had done to you. A wedge had been driven between them at your expense.

“So, yes, easier. And better,” Tony clipped, leaning away from you again, keeping his gaze fixated on you for a few more moments before tearing it away. He picked up his phone again and unlocked it. “Finish your lunch. You don’t have to lift a finger for this. They’ve got it covered. All we gotta do is get Luna into a carrier. And that’ll be easy, right?”

You were at a loss for words. What if Steve came looking for you? How angry was he going to be when he realized that you were no longer here? And would he think it was you that had asked Tony to move you? You had so many questions.

Tony picked up your fork and held it out to you. “Eat, love. Just relax. I’ve got it covered.”

Timidly, you reached out and took the fork from him, and he visibly relaxed of the tension in his body. You stuck your fork into your rice and took a bite, watching the men working warily.

<><><>

Steve kissed up Cecile’s abdomen, his trail leading between her breasts and up to her lips. She smiled against his lips as he entered her slowly. They rocked together in tandem, coming down together. Steve held her close and whispered in her ear, “Let’s take a few days. You and me. Maine?”

“Seclusion is always nice,” Cecile told him, pecking him on the nose, causing Steve to smile.

“Right on the sea?” Steve questioned, holding her close, cognizant of her swollen abdomen.

Cecile traced his face and said, “You know what I like.”

“That I do,” Steve returned softly. He kissed her deep and relished in feeling like they were truly close again.

<><><>

You had just gotten out of the shower to wash the chlorine off of you. One of the perks of the new condo was the pool. You enjoyed doing laps and the hot tub afterward. Sitting in a robe, you picked up the remote and turned on the TV. Choosing a show, you unwrapped the popsicle you had taken out of the fridge.

The familiar sound of the key in the door echoed and you did not bother to move, knowing the only one who would be coming in was Tony. You had been here for a week and had finished rearranging all of your things in the new layout a couple days ago. Thankfully, Luna had adjusted and loved the window beds on the large windows, giving her access to watch out over the street.

He was dressed down – unusual for him. And he looked nervous, and you were on edge immediately just as you had been when he had looked that way sitting in the living room when you had come home from the gym.

“What?” you asked him reluctantly.

He said nothing. He held a bag out to you, and you stared at him for a moment before you opened it, peaking in.

Your stomach dropped, seeing another pregnancy test.

“Why are you making me do this? For real this time?” you asked him seriously.

He licked his lips and sat down stiffly on the opposite end of the couch. He was refusing to look at you, his elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped. “I… you need to do it.”

“Why?” you pressed.

“Because. You… you might be pregnant.”

Shaking your head, you told him, “I already took a test. Less than two weeks ago!”

“Have you missed a period?”

“I rarely bleed,” you countered.

“That makes it even more important that you take the test then.”

“Why are you so concerned about this?”

Tony exhaled sharply, hanging his head. He was silent for a few moments, the suspension in the room thick. His voice was brittle, “You weren’t protected. For over a month. December and January, respectfully, between the two.”

You gaped at him. Stammering, you asked, “W-what are you talking about?”

He looked resistant to speak but he shook his head, “Steve.”

“Steve, what?” you asked dangerously.

“He told me at the beginning of January that he had been fucking around with your birth control. Giving you placebos.”

You felt like you had been kicked. Your fingers grasped tighter onto the paper back, it crinkling in your hand. The silence in the room was deafening; Tony refusing to look at you made it even worse.

If what he was saying was true, Steve had betrayed you beyond belief. You had thought his actions at the docks were the lowest he could go but apparently, he was determined to prove you wrong. And for what? To lock you down further?

“Why?” you rasped.

Tony shrugged, “I don’t know. Really. He… he’s having problems. At home, with his wife, I mean.”

“And? Getting me pregnant was going to solve that?”

“No,” Tony gave a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, it wouldn’t have solved it. He’s… he’s not thinking straight. That has been made noticeably clear.”

“You knew?” you asked quietly. And he finally looked at you, shame etched into his features. “When you asked me to take the first test?”

His answer hit you like a ton of bricks. “Yeah, I did.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” you asked breathlessly.

“You… you were negative. And I was just going to let it rest and move on. No purpose of drawing up drama when it didn’t need to be drawn up.”

“I trusted you,” you half gasped, getting up from the couch.

Tony followed your movement, half stumbling around the opposite side of the couch to chase after you as you clutched the bag close to your chest. He quickly dove into excuses, “I mean it when I said I thought it should stay buried. As long as it was okay. To save you from that stress. And I thought Steve could get his head on straight. But then he went and proved me fucking wrong. So wrong. And that’s why I moved you. He doesn’t know where you are. I’m not going to let him around you. Not until he can prove he has himself set straight again. And if that never happens, then you don’t have to see him again!”

He sounded so desperate for you to forgive him, thank him for what he was doing.

Swallowing sharply, you put up a wall. Coldly, you told him, “I have to go do this.” You tapped the bag. “You know… something I didn’t want to have to do. Ever. But here I am forced again by controlling men to do shit against my will.”

Tony looked wounded by that, and you ignored it, turning on your heel, storming down the hallway. You gritted your teeth. You were going to do your damndest to not cry.

<><><>

It had been over ten minutes since Y/N had locked the bathroom door before he finally heard something.

Tony was leaning on the wall outside and he heard her stifle a sob. His eyes closed, exhaling deeply. He pushed away from the wall and his hand came to the door handle of the door, but he hesitated. His hand fell from the handle, deciding to give her space, and he walked away back towards the living room, his hand coming up to rub at his face, distressed.

Yes, it was going to be easier having her close by pregnant to watch over, he thought to himself.

Regardless of if it was his or not.

<><><>

Daryl or Eric were not in the lobby, causing Steve to frown. Were they upstairs? He got into the elevator, a bad feeling swirling in his gut.

He exited the elevator, holding the envelope to Y/N’s favorite local boutique close to him. He meant to just slide it underneath the door to avoid pissing Tony off even further but to still connect to her. Extend an olive branch and slowly apologize, getting himself back to her good graces.

He stopped though, seeing Terrence or Wylan were not there at the hallway’s end. Worry was beginning to seep in deep at the fact both sets of men were not where they were supposed to be.

Picking up his pace, Steve moved to her apartment door and his heart hammered seeing the keylock on her door instead of a deadbolt. That meant she had moved, and the apartment was empty.

His jaw set, fury burning its way through him.

Tony, that son of a bitch.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics @agustdowney @fanofalltheficsx @buttercandy16 @last-saturday-night

[tundrainafrica]

Hey so how does it feel to carry the entire Levihan fandom on your back? I absolutely love all your stories! I always look forward to when you update! I had an idea for a fic but I haven't seen anyone do it. Where past levi wakes ups ( when he only sees hange as a friend) in the future to find that he's happily married to hange or living domestically with her and just contemplates his feelings for her

Title: Unwritten

Summary:

“Hange Zoe. One of the reasons why she creates really quality works is because aside from writing the script, she’s very hands on with everything from the direction, to the design and just the overall production… And she knows how to do it. When I watch her movies, it feels like they're peering into my soul or something.”

“Peering into your soul…” It was a tacky choice of words and Levi could only repeat them with some level of disbelief.

“What makes Hange Zoe's writing special are those in betweens. The unwritten parts... if you know what I mean?" 

Levi is assigned to work with screenwriter Hange Zoe and he is left constantly wondering why the hell she's taking her work so seriously.

Link: AO3

Note: I conceptualized this long fic after looking through a some of the prompts in my inbox and playing with them.. TYSM to everyone who sent those. I won't be dropping all the prompts I used when making this now because it might end up spoiling the fic as a whole but I will be dropping the prompts with every chapter I updated.

This fic doesn't actually follow any prompt strictly, I twisted the prompts around them, tore them apart, put them together so they might seem unrecognizable for some.

Either way, I'm very grateful to readers who are sending me prompts. It keeps me writing and brainstorming even when life gets terribly busy.

So thank you for them :D. I'm trying to get back to posting my writing more regularly again and this fic has been sitting in my folder for a while, I was just a little nervous to post it. Thanks to itShailaAM for looking through it!

If neither of us remember anything… Then it’s like it never happened right?

The voice was nostalgic, heart wrenchingly nostalgic. It had a unique way of twisting at his gut, spidering up his spine then leaving an almost painful pang in his chest.

Despite the overwhelming sensations, Levi found himself still able to take control.

So he reached out.

Then he was chasing after her again.

Chasing… He then wondered. How long had he been chasing? How long had he been awake?

With the first light of morning, whatever message, whatever meaning he could have made up for himself dissipated.

Or maybe it was never there to begin with.

For the first time in years or even decades, Levi was wasting his early morning window before work. He wasn’t doing much of anything but staring up at the white ceiling in some feeble attempt to make sense of it again. He came up empty save for two things: a faint throbbing in his head and a half hearted conclusion that maybe it really was just some fevered dream.

“Good morning!"  Someone was right next to him. Her voice was higher, more mellow. A hairs breadth away from his ear though, it grated.

Levi narrowed his eyes and the blur cleared somewhat. “Petra?” He heard himself speak. He was in an unfamiliar in-between, completely in control of himself, yet strangely disconnected. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Petra put one hand on the back of her head and gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry about barging in like this…” She didn’t have to apologize. They were childhood friends and with all the family gatherings they had spent together growing up, they were more than comfortable just flitting in and out of each other’s apartments.

Levi didn’t respond. There were more important things to think about like the slow and almost painful process of sitting up. That morning, he was a little more careful than usual.

“Your mom told me to check on you.” Petra continued.

“Typical,” he muttered coldly. He turned towards the window, and took in the view of the blue sky, a few stories above ground. It should calm him if he stared at it long enough. “She always overreacts,” he added. At that point, the crankiness had started to subside and Levi realized he didn’t mind the doting too much. His mother had always been like that anyway. Growing up, a sprained ankle or an animal bite from a family pet had always been enough for Kuchel to insist on a visit to the doctor.

Petra let out a dry chuckle. “I don’t blame her though. Since the accident, she’s been asking about you every...”

Everyday. Levi completed it for her. He wouldn’t be surprised if his mother had asked about him every hour. “She can always ask me directly,” he said out loud before Petra could finish. He didn’t feel too bad about interrupting. Petra had been speaking particularly slowly since a while ago and if he let her speak like that for any longer, they might not get anything done.

As if she had read his mind or at least noticed the impatience, she immediately gathered herself. “You always downplay it,” she said, more clearly this time.

“She always exaggerates it.”

“That accident was pretty bad though.” Petra cocked her head to the side. “I’m sure you understand that, right?”

Levi averted his gaze for a brief second. He couldn’t deny that part. That accident had apparently been bad enough to merit a month long hospital stay, bad enough for Levi to not remember much of it aside from the phantom pains in his chest, And bad enough to take the brunt of the pain and the inconvenience of dealing with the symptomatic disorientation, the fatigue and the begrudging need for some support.

A few seconds of reflection later, Levi concluded maybe there was good reason for that overreaction. “But I can take care of myself.”

Ironically, his body chose that moment to teeter.

“Hey, you okay?” Petra put one warm hand on his shoulder. “You think you can make it to work today?”

The throbbing at the back of his head had dulled to a bearable ache but he could have sworn it had been worse in the hospital. “I don’t have enough leaves,” he said. He focused for a while longer on Petra’s eyes and saw reason.

Maybe I can take a longer break?

His body was probably silently begging for more leaves. On the contrary, another part of him had been yearning for normalcy for a while. Practicality had been the deciding factor. Although Levi had more than enough leaves, did he have more than he would have been comfortable giving up? Maybe not. He wouldn’t take it anyway. He had more than enough strength to push himself out of bed and pad lightly to the bathroom.

Unwillingly or willingly? He was too tired to tell.

“You were in the hospital just a week ago.” Petra was a voice of reason or a voice of temptation.

“I can’t take any more leaves,” Levi repeated again, as if saying it louder somehow made it more convincing. He made his way to his closet, keeping his strides purposeful, partially for himself, partially for her.

Even for a long time friend, Petra had always been shy and conservative. As soon as Levi motioned to pull his shirt up, she rushed out of the room in some characteristic gesture of modesty.

His bedroom door closed with a click and Levi started to slip his clothes off much faster. His head continued to throb. There was a strange ringing in his ears and the room was a little drafty, typical for early spring.

Levi didn’t have the mind space to prepare for that brush with icy wind. Fucking hell. Discomfort then the desperation that followed had him considering calling in sick again.

After using up three week’s worth though, vacation leaves were starting to feel more like a scam than an actual benefit of the job. He ran through the motions of his typical morning routine. Or at least, what had been typical a month ago. Since the accident, he hadn’t worn anything but loose shirts, pajamas and hospital gowns. Back in the hospital, he had been asleep a lot of that time.

He pulled his pants on, then sluggishly pulled his sweater over him, dolefully noting how snug fitting clothing seemed like strangers to his skin.

He didn’t feel like the same person anymore.

It looked like Petra did notice something was different. Over breakfast, she had pushed the plates closer to him. She did the honors of pouring the scrambled eggs onto his plate, then placing a loaf of bread right next to him. “Eat, we have a long day ahead.”

Levi mumbled something that could have been a ‘thanks’ or a ‘yes.’ He didn’t think too far about it either. There were more pressing things to deal with, like internally psyching himself up for his first day back at work and finding routine once again in the recovery process.

For a few minutes after, the two were silent in the small kitchen save for the sound of chewing and the sound of cutlery clacking on the plate.

“Hey Levi,” Petra hesitantly broke the silence. “You really don't remember what happened?” She had asked that question countless times before, back at the hospital, on his first day back at home and every single time she paid a visit.

He chalked it up to worry. In some semblance of a response, Levi downed the bread in his mouth in one painful gulp, then took a sip of tea. “I remember waking up in the hospital.”

“Before that.”

Levi dropped the half eaten bread on the plate and stared straight up at the ceiling for a second. “Leaving work,” he answered. It was too vague of an answer and Petra didn't seem satisfied.

Of course she wouldn’t be satisfied. He always walked the same route home and routine wouldn’t give too much of an answer to the question of how the hell more than a month ago, he had ended up with a severe concussion and a few contusions in the hospital emergency room, a few towns away from his own.

Past was past though. There was no use digging into it. At present, he had medical bills to pay and a career to salvage. No time for a personal investigation. He attempted to digress. “What did I miss?” Levi asked. “At work?” He noted Petra’s very disconcerting expression, a combination of pity and uncertainty. It was starting to get annoying.

Petra furrowed her brows, a little more hesitant to speak that time. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about...”

In protest, Levi put the bread down and stared at Petra, his stone cold expression unwavering. He wouldn’t be eating unless Petra continued. He wasn’t hungry anyway.

A few minutes of silence later and it seemed to work. Petra looked down at the bread then up at him. Whatever was plaguing her mind then had taken some control over her. “A lot has changed since the accident,” she started.

“With work?” Levi asked again. He dropped the bread on the plate, deliberately allowing the clatter, as if the loud jarring sound would be enough to drive away the disbelief. Three weeks or fifteen business days wasn’t supposed to be a long time taking into account the speed of office bureaucracy.

Petra nodded, a wry smile on her face. Her expression, her demeanor gave the uncertainty away before she spoke of it. “You’re probably going to have to talk to Mr. Zackley about it…”

Levi’s mind was racing. Despite the throbbing, Levi had managed to fill in the blanks for himself. Even before Petra expounded on it, Levi had started to accept already, going back to work was probably not going to be such an easy ride.

Being gone for weeks had done a number to his job.

Three weeks to be exact. It was just three weeks, fifteen business days. Despite Petra’s apparent discomfort, her incessant warnings not to ‘expect,’ Levi had expected some semblance of normalcy. When his hopes were dashed, Levi felt like he had been body slammed out of nowhere by an oncoming train.

“I’ve been working on their set for years…Since the pilot episode, ” Levi said slowly. Hell, since even before the pilot episode if you consider the preproduction stage. He didn’t want it to seem at all like it was an argument and he subdued his tone to something lighter, with the intention of reminding himself not to talk back at authority.

“And we’ve transferred you,” General Manager Darius Zackley said matter-of-factly. “Underground City has been garnering a lot of attention lately and we couldn’t afford to be undermanned at such a crucial point of production.”

“But was it necessary to transfer me?”

Mr. Zackley’s expression softened. He didn't have a natural expression that demanded authority but he made up for it with reason. “It’s a primetime show,” he explained. “One of our best, and given the uncertainty regarding your accident…” For some reason, he had hesitated at that word. “We couldn’t take a gamble. We had you immediately replaced after the first week.”

“And?” At face value, the new developments were starting to seem terribly, terribly disappointing. “I can still work there.” Levi was perfectly aware of where the conversation was going. Still, it didn’t hurt to try.

Mr. Zackley was surprisingly patient. “It’s not an issue of you not fitting in. But we want to properly and more efficiently distribute our labor. The production of Underground City is currently…” He cleared his throat. “Oversaturated.”

Oversaturated with budget, resources. Underground City was a crime and mystery drama, one of their more high budget productions. Levi wasn’t too surprised at that piece of information, having worked closely with the producers and the writers since the pilot.

With a boss a few reporting levels above his own though, Levi couldn’t do much but listen quietly. Disappointment and uncertainty loomed over him and he was tiring more quickly.

“We’ve made some arrangements, set you up with a new role.” Mr. Zackley was taking his sweet time, his painfully sweet time.

At the butt end of Mr. Zackley’s whims, Levi was a mess. He racked his brain for all possible outcomes of the ‘arrangements’, a painful process, hampered by the weight of too many possibilities. They were a medium sized network that produced most of their own TV shows on top of news coverage and documentaries, still too many for Levi to have cared enough about to count.

At that moment, he was determined to make up for lost time. Naturally, his mind first flew to the more well known productions, those that had been receiving the best ratings in prime time TV since he had started working there.

Underground City. Military Police.

Working at the set of the crime drama ‘Underground City’ had been a good run for Levi, one he would have liked to continue but Mr. Zackley said so himself, they replaced him. ‘Military Police,’ one of their more popular historical war dramas, also received one of the bigger chunks of their budget. With Zackley’s very sullen expression, it looked like he wasn’t at all there to give Levi a promotion.

He didn’t really mind not working on the ‘Military Police’ set anyway. Everyone there seemed like a lazy prick and that long running drama had always seemed overrated to him. What else would be waiting for him though? “To where?” Levi pressed.

The old man hummed for a second, leaned forward on his seat. “I talked to Erwin about this and we have an opening in one of our daytime shows.”

“Erwin?” Levi repeated. The name was more than just familiar and he allowed himself a brief moment to recall. Erwin Smith. One of the more prominent in-house directors. Just digging deep into his mind, riling up whatever was causing the headache in the first place. He sat still and waited for it to subside again.

Then he wondered if it had been physical or just an emotional reaction to the mess he found himself in. He was barely recovering, he was plunged into a new position and he was confused, utterly confused.

“Consider it a temporary position until something else opens up,” Mr. Zackley added. “Given that you just got back from the hospital, it would be better if you started small.” He shot Levi a placating look. “Either way, this is a good opportunity for you, Ackerman…” It didn’t seem so genuine. “To ease you back into the hustle and bustle of working in TV production.”

Zackley spoke for an eternity longer after that but it had done nothing to make the transfer any better.

Levi had been working with that same hustle and bustle for years and he was confident, a three week break at the height of production wouldn’t have been enough to throw him--- hell, most people off completely.

But he was being treated like some invalid. Zackley’s warm words yet his uninviting demeanor sent some alarm bells ringing inside Levi.Mr. Zackley was overly consoling, overly placating and Levi’s mind was racing.

Levi took a deep breath and dropped his shoulders, willing himself to relax and focus on the present. Whatever the catch was, he’d find out soon anyway.

To ease you back into the hustle and bustle of working in TV production.

What a magnificent fucking lie.

“Start small my ass.” With the stress just piling up and his body barely catching up, Levi was tempted to let it out as anything louder, accompanying it with the very dramatic motion of dropping the paper work on the floor and relishing the loud thud. He imagined scattering the pages on the table, spilling them onto the floor and maybe kicking them out onto some curb.

Then he brushed off that mental image completely.

That would only create an unnecessary mess, maybe even cause a scene in that small cafe. Although his life seemed like it was complete chaos, his fastidious side wouldn’t have allowed him to make it any more worse. Then and there, he deemed it the best option to just take a sip of his tea, allow it to warm him up slowly and create a comfortable distraction, somewhere convenient.

A minute or so later, Levi accepted, tea didn’t do too good of a job. After all, what could tea do, aside from supporting him through the long and painful two days of ‘adjustment’ and the journey to the very frustrating conclusion that the general manager of the studio, Mr. Zackley was too out of touch with the struggles of the average worker.

“Just for long enough to get back to the hustle and bustle of TV production? What a fucking liar,” Levi muttered again. He dropped the tea cup on the saucer with a clank.

“Well, technically you are starting small,” Petra said. “They don’t expect too much quality wise from a soap opera on a day time slot.” She flipped through the pages of scripts and the storyboards that formed an overwhelmingly thick pile of papers on the coffee table.

It wasn’t too thick. Levi stared for a while longer and he decided it was a manageable pile of documents. The soft copies on his laptop were also of a countable number.

The deadline to be completely functional in two days though wasn’t as reasonable.

In search of some semblance of a break, Levi shifted his gaze towards Petra.

Her familiar presence had made the job change bearable. A half hearted response with her attention mostly channelled towards the piles of scripts had still been enough to have Levi more at home in the middle of the coffee shop in the late afternoon. “You didn’t even need to transfer,” Levi said. The indignance and the bitterness of a while ago seemed to be mellowing into something almost sweet.

Petra turned a beet red and she put her hands up in defense. “No no… I wanted to. Besides, this type of set is always in need of more people.”

Levi raised one eyebrow in response. Soap opera sets? Or maybe just daytime soap operas in general. Or maybe just that particular soap opera set. He turned back to the pile of papers on the table then back to his laptop.

The pile of papers on the table was the script for that month alone. The folders in the USB were eight seasons worth of soap opera scripts and episodes. Levi was once again reminded why such a project could have been so undersaturated.

Scratch that, he had never forgotten and he didn’t think he would ever forget anyway.

The script for just that month was much larger than the piles Levi worked with at his previous production. By the second day, he was starting to conclude, working with daytime soap operas was turning out to be a grind, a seemingly thankless grind.

Soap operas ran with the expectation of producing five episodes a week with a shoestring budget. The pressing deadlines and just the amount of content that had to be produced meant vacations and holidays were few and far in between for the average employee. And the unreasonable demands usually meant that quality would naturally suffer.

Since he started assimilating into his job, he also started to wonder. What audience were they even producing soaps for in that day and age?

“Do you think you’ll even enjoy this?” Levi challenged.

“It’s too early to tell,” Petra said.

Levi didn’t want to admit it then, but he was convinced that she would even find a way to enjoy it. The question should have been for him. He was the one who could barely even get past the first page of the script.

Petra flashed him a knowing smile, flipping the pages a little faster. She wasn’t reading them and all attention was on Levi.

Her face could have been asking questions. Or Levi could have been projecting. He repeated the question to himself. What now? More specifically, what was he supposed to do?

Then he answered it. Get used to it? Or maybe just accept it as a job. The grind would eventually get less painful he was sure. But would he ever see the beauty in it?

Levi had never taken the time to watch that particular soap opera but he had seen too many in passing to know what he would be working with.

The stories didn’t make fucking sense. The sets were cheaply made. The lights, the cameras and the resources for special effects were far from what he was given when he was still working with the twenty-one-episodes-a-season, one-season-a-year ‘Underground City.”

According to Erwin, they just didn’t have the budget. Besides, the average viewer didn’t expect much else anyway from a soap opera.

Either way, he was still hired as the cinematographer. This is still your job. Levi took a deep breath then exhaled with a soft huff. First things first, he had to familiarize himself with ten to fifty episodes worth of scripts. That night, he would be watching the blocking, the lighting, the editing, the overall production.

That was the job of the fucking cinematographer anyway. Erwin had warned him though, they were severely undermanned in all facets of production, pre production, production proper and post production. And for shows that aired multiple times a week, that meant, the grind wouldn't end.

So he wouldn’t just be the cinematographer.

At the impending workload that followed his orientation phase, Levi closed his eyes tight. For a second there, his mind flew to other opportunities and just the process of editing his CV and applying elsewhere.

Maybe in a year he would reapply, or maybe even in months.

He wondered if Petra was thinking the same thing. If she were, she didn’t make it obvious. Petra enjoyed the production process just as much as he did and she had been the reason he had found a job there in the first place.

“Welcome back to the working world.” Petra chuckled.

Levi blinked back the surprise in his eyes as he was once again pulled back to reality. Admittedly, he was overwhelmed. The weak throbbing returned and after spending too many hours insisting to Petra that he was ready to go back to work, he didn’t think it right to take a break.

He sipped his tea and deemed that a quick break.

“God I miss our tea times,” Petra said, looking pointedly at Levi's tea caup. She flipped the script over and pulled her teacup towards her.

Levi noted the wistful expression on Petra’s face. “I was only out for a month,”

Petra shook her head. “But for a week or so, we thought you wouldn’t make it.” There was a subtle crack, not too noticeable if Levi hadn’t tensed up and watched her closely.

It was bringing up too many unwelcome emotions at once, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a haze of memories aggravated the throbbing in his head.

Levi turned back to the pile of papers. With the amount of work to do, he would never have the time to ponder what happened anyway. In an attempt at digression, he pulled the script towards him, and started to flip the pages, poring over words yet only taking in half of it.

A very boring half.

Eventually, he gave up. “Let’s go back home. We’re not getting anything done here.” He gathered the pages, and meticulously returned them to each envelope.

He was supposed to be reviewing the scripts to get some idea on how the TV show worked. They had chosen to work in the cafe to escape from the bustle of the sets and attempt some productivity. Yet, they had been in the cafe for a few hours already and he still didn’t remember what the story had been about in the first place.

Soap operas didn’t have logical plots anyway. Levi thought to himself. Maybe just accepting could make his work feel more unbearable. He watched as Petra gathered the pages on her end, stuffed them into her bag.

“Sorry, I thought you would have wanted tea. You always liked this place…” Petra was explaining herself. The not-so-eloquent way at which she did it was a distraction. In fact, everything at that point was either a distraction or even irritating. Levi took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let the throbbing take control for a second.

One step at a time. Levi slung his bag over his shoulder. “The tea was good,” he said, more for her than himself. That was a lie. In fact, the tea tasted underwhelming. Tea usually didn’t disappoint though and Levi was starting to suspect the fault was in him. “Just give me some time to get used to life again,” he added, his tone more apologetic that time.

A few seconds or even minutes of reflection later and Levi had to admit, he felt like he really had changed during that break.

Cinematography is visual storytelling. Or so, that was what he had been taught when he started working with TV shows years ago.

When there was no story he could follow, there was no essence or heart to portray. So, Levi naturally approached it like a cold hard science. The hard copies on folders lay abandoned on the coffee table. His laptop remained unopened.

Levi's attention was trained on the big screen. He had silently been sprawled on the sofa since they arrived back to his apartment hours ago. Bundled up in a sweatshirt, legs propped up on the coffee table, Levi was in that convenient trance between relaxing and analyzing.

He had no idea what the couple on the TV had been arguing about. He had no idea who had fathered the large overly tacky baby bump sticking out of the woman.

The latest episode was playing on repeat and Levi remembered two things happening in the past ten minutes. A pregnant woman entering the crappy set of their mansion, hand on her oversized belly and  man looked back at her then approached her, a look of abject horror on his face. He was shouting something, obscenities maybe?

By that point, Levi’s mind started to wander with too many other passing thoughts.

The horror at finding out the protagonist was pregnant was overly exaggerated. Were baby bumps really supposed to be that big? And why did it take them that many months to figure it out? How many pregnancies did the protagonist go through? How many love interests did she have?

Then the cinematographer and the photographer in him took over.

There were more important things to look into. The camera never moved. Levi was familiar with multi camera setups and he didn’t need to think too hard about it. Most of the scenes were filmed in the house, in the office, all conveniently made sets, the conveniently written scripts were written around the shitty budget.

And the high frame rate, in tandem with the inorganic lighting, the lack of special effects and just the lack of some careful camera movement, made the overall story and the overall view, underwhelming, not at all cinematic.

The soap opera effect.

Some wouldn’t see it. Others would probably notice it but not glaringly enough to complain. Levi had worked in film for years and when he would search for the characteristic motion blur, he would immediately find it. The culmination of a simple camera set up, a few sets, a cheap camera, and with a studio and network always in some hurry to cut the budget, the soap opera effect was very apparent.

And they would be expecting the same cooperation from him in putting together a cheaply made production. On the bright side, that meant that despite having to deal with some shitty soap opera plot that didn’t make any sense, he wouldn’t have to do too much thinking with lighting, blocking and editing. Planning sets and scenes would be a light stroll in the park at best, soul suckingly monotonous at worst.

Levi reached for the remote and started to rewind, his interest suddenly piqued.

“So what do you think happened to the baby?” Petra asked. She dropped a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

Levi wasn’t in any mood to eat. More importantly, he in the mood to speculate the cheap excuse for a plot. “Am I supposed to care?” He pulled his legs close to him and leaned further on the armrest of the sofa, giving Petra more than enough space to get herself comfortable.

“Well, you’re working on the set right? Better to at least know the major plot points of what you’re working with.”

“Spoil me,” Levi said.

Petra reached for the popcorn and grabbed a handful. She turned to him, a wry smile on her face. “You really don’t even wanna try to enjoy it?”

“This is a job. ”

Petra dropped her shoulders in defeat. “Well… Hanako gets kidnapped…”

“Hanako?”

“The baby…” Petra answered, looking pointedly at him. “They literally spent an episode discussing the baby’s name.” A laugh was very much evident in her voice.

And there are a hundred episodes to sift through. “I don’t have to know the baby’s name to do my job.”

“The baby will be the main character in the next season. If you have been reading the script--- Or even just following the story...” Petra put her hands out and pointed at the TV, starting to look more exasperated by the minute.

“Okay,” Levi responded firmly, not in any mood to stomach accusations. “Then I’ll learn her name when I start working. Just tell me what I need to know to do my job. ”

Petra sighed. “When we get back on air, there will be a time skip. Then the season post time skip picks up after Hanako’s first day of college. So before that she grew up with her adopted parents who found her abandoned in a box. They went through some tough times financially and in the latest pages of the script she gets a job in a coffee shop.” She turned towards the thick envelope on the table then glanced accusingly at him. “I could have sworn you were reading through that back in the cafe.”

Levi didn’t notice it. He had only half heartedly read the script. Still, he feigned a look of interest.

“Then a lot of the writers quit,” Petra continued. “So a lot of what happened hasn't been written yet.”

Levi flashed Petra a knowing look.

Petra sighed. "Apparently, people were overworked, the job didn't pay much so a lot of the crew, cinematographer, production designers, they all left which was most likely why they put you there.”

Levi only had to look back at his first day and his second day to understand the turnover rate. He had spent a little less than an hour familiarizing himself with systems that seemed to be put into place for show. Soon after that, he was bombarded with unreasonable deadlines, timelines, responsibilities outside his actual job title and a little less than two days to sift through eight seasons worth of scripts.

“And why they easily transferred me. We're really behind now.  Post production for the last few episodes should be completed this week, aired by next week.

"Then we have a hiatus at least," Levi said, repeating it with that same cold professional tone Erwin had used with him on their first day. Except he knew that was a scam too. They would be using that two week hiatus to start filing.

That reminder at least pulled Levi back into reality. He couldn’t flit mindlessly from side to side and clock it up as ‘learning the ropes’ forever. Eventually, they were going to ask him to actually know the ropes. “Erwin said something about me working with production proper and post production,” Levi mindlessly rewinded some of the scenes again. “But they can’t expect me to write the script right?”

Petra shook her head. “No, I don’t think you will,” she said. “I talked to a few of the crew. They said they were hiring a writer. A whole writing crew actually--- And you know, among them, there are rumors about a big name screenwriter.”

Levi raised one eyebrow in disbelief. “Joining the set of a daytime soap opera.”

She put her hands up in defense. “It’s just a rumor.”

“A stupid rumor. What kind of screenwriter in their right mind would want to work here?”

Petra paused for a second, deep in thought. “Fine, it might just be a rumor. Still, ask yourself, why would there be rumors circulating in the first place?"

Levi sighed. “Which screenwriter then?” he asked, mostly in an attempt to humor her. And himself. The fact that a big name screenwriter would work in soap operas, might actually make ‘soap operas’ work.

“Hange Zoe,” Petra said, a wry knowing look on her face. As if it was a name Levi was supposed to know.

“Hange Zoe?” And if he followed the same ups and downs of Petra’s tone, he could pretend it was familiar to his lips. “Hange Zoe,” he said again.

Petra nodded. “The writer of the Titan series? The final movie of `Advancing Titans’ is coming out in the fall.”

Advancing Titans. The name had seemingly come out of nowhere, especially when Levi had already run through a few possible names in his head. Hange Zoe hadn’t been one of them. Although she was a big name in the screenwriting industry for sure, the idea of Hange Zoe working with soap operas seemed almost preposterous.

“Hange Zoe…” Levi said it one more time, in surprise or in some attempt to practice saying it. “You’re seriously talking about that writer?” Levi looked to Petra for confirmation. Hange had only ever written one movie series from a completely different genre, which begged a question.“She has some experience in soap operas?”

Petra unlocked her phone, opened the browser and started typing and scrolling. “No… Just the movies…” she muttered a second later.

“Then why do you think she would suddenly want to work in a cheap ass day time soap opera?”

Petra looked back at him, a dumbfounded look in her face. “But the timing just fits too well. The final movie is about to be released. Apparently, she didn’t renew her contract with her studio. There are even rumors of her leaving the movie industry… And there were speculations and everything.”

“Retirement?” Levi suggested.

“Why retire in your thirties?” Petra said.

“Well, when you’re earning millions per script…” Levi trailed off. Thinking up an argument was too much of a tall order. He continued flipped through channels in silence and he had managed to pick out the movie ‘Advancing Titans’ by just a few seconds worth of a scene.

Speak of the devil.

But it wasn’t strange at all to come across the movies while flipping through channels. After all,  Advancing Titans had become a household name over the past few years.

A person in a green cloak was flying, killing some man eating a zombie. It was a familiar scene, Even Levi, who almost prided himself in never having watched the movies, was familiar enough with the iconic movements, the colors and the insignia on the back.

The wings of freedom. How the hell that was connected to the story, Levi never watched enough to find out. Nor was he interested. Science fiction and fantasy were just never his cup of tea.

If Levi had to guess, soap operas and crime dramas shouldn’t have been big wig screenwriter Hange Zoe’s cup of tea either, especially after dedicating years of her life into a production as complex as a science fiction, dark fantasy cinematic universe..

“Do you really think Hange Zoe can actually work with low budget soap operas?” Levi asked.

Petra shrugged and Levi wondered why he had even asked her in the first place. Of course, she wouldn’t know. Still, she spoke up. “Even if the rumors were wrong and it wasn’t Hange Zoe. The important thing is they get someone to pump out scripts right? And your job anyway is to make sure everything gets filmed.”

“I guess.” Levi kept his eyes trained on the screen. The scene shifted from a forest, to the cobblestoned streets in town. A parade of miserable soldiers entered the town within the walls. The camera focused on a father, who navigated through crowds of people, zooming in one of the shorter soldiers.

Captain, I wanted to talk to you about my daughter… She wrote me a letter… She’s too young to get married.

Something about the expression of the soldier pulled Levi in. For a moment, he was frozen on his seat, completely hypnotized.

Petra’s voice tore into his trance. “That’s one of the scenes I can never forget.”

In some desperate bout of retaliation, Levi switched the channel of the TV. “Let’s watch something else.”

“Why? You okay?” Petra asked.

“I’m fine. I’d rather watch something more productive.” Levi flipped more rapidly through channels. He was tempted to just turn off the TV and call it a night.

“There’s a lot to learn from watching that,” Petra started.

"Like what?" Levi asked, his grip on the remote was still firm.

Petra opened her mouth, then closed it again. She sighed. “It's hard to explain... but remember that scene just a while ago. The father approached the captain about his daughter… She died while fighting the titans and they had to empty the cart so they lost all the bodies..."

Levi kept his eyes glued to the screen, suddenly hyper aware that there might have been a judgemental or impatient look on his face. “Go on,” Levi said, as if that could do anything to placate the discomfort already apparent in her voice.

“I guess the point I wanted to make is…” Petra still seemed far from calm. “Hange Zoe. One of the reasons why she writes really quality works apparently is because aside from writing the script, she’s very hands on with everything from the blocking, to the screenwriting and just the overall production… Which makes the storyline and the movie so gripping. When I watch it, it feels like the movie is peering into my soul or something.”

“Peering into your soul…” It was a tacky choice of words and Levi could only repeat them with some level of disbelief.

“A lot of the novelty of Hange Zoe’s writing… The parts that make it special are those in betweens. The parts she left unwritten... if you know what I mean?"

“That’s cool,” Levi responded, only barely. He switched to their local channel, to the late night reruns of the soap opera. .

“They’re good movies. I don’t think they were overrated," Petra said, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

"I never said they weren’t good movies."

"You don't seem to want to hear about it at all."

"I'm just not interested. Besides, I'm too busy with work." That was the right moment to feign business. Levi held his phone in front of him, opened up the browser and wrote out a few familiar keywords. The movies of the titan series were all ranging from four to five star ratings. Whether it had been commended for cinematography or writing, he had been too lazy to check the more detailed reviews.

The reviews were most likely raving, sloppily made and potentially biased and Levi didn’t want to hear another synonym for ‘peers into your soul.’

His eyes were drooping, he was exhausted. Petra seemed to be ready to leave as well. But he had some space, he needed some break. And what better way to spend it than to do a little stalking? "Petra, could you send a file of the first movie? I think I might wanna watch it."

"You can stream the older ones on demand," Petra said.

Levi only had to open the menu on his TV to see the option for streaming. Right. Watching movies was starting to feel like a chore though and he was in no mood watching that night.

He didn’t say much else after that and the night ended with greetings exchanged. Petra only lived a few floors below him and it didn’t feel any different from being alone.

Before he knew it, he was half asleep already. He gave up, turned off the TV and allowed himself to doze off. When he came to his senses again, the sun was streaming through the window, and with work starting in an hour or so, he had little to no time to even start the movie.

The set was small. The budget was miniscule. The turnover rate was high.

And for projects that wanted to disguise themselves as official and corporate, it was utter chaos. One week into his job, Levi had to admit, he was reaching too widely, and he was spread out too thin.

There was a semblance of structure within his team. Petra and Eld worked with cinematography, filming and camera management and all he had to do was make sure the blocking looked good, limit the amount of retakes needed. Gunther and Oluo worked in post production and video editing.

But structure was an illusion.

The actors hadn’t arrived yet. Other new roles hadn't been finalized. The script was still unfinished. Yet, they were under the mercy of the vision of higher ups

"We're heavily delayed,’ or so that was what Erwin had explained. ‘Feedback of the higher ups.”

There were deadlines, unreasonable deadlines for the employees, yet a reasonable wait for the average audience. They had less than a month to finish filming and post production for the first few episodes of the new season, less than a week to produce everything for the old season.

When he was in a pseudo-management role, as a cinematographer, it was automatic. When filming, he should be going down to the set. But they weren't filming yet. In fact, there were people in the set not doing anything.

In the chaos, everything didn't seem to add up. So Levi forced one memorandum, one attempt at structure. He would finish the final editing by that night and start the next day with a blank slate. Even if he needed to, he would stay until midnight to make it work.

That new writing team should be coming soon. Levi repeated to himself. Erwin had said so himself, Petra had also mentioned it excitedly over lunch.

All Levi had to do was get the episodes ready for review by the higher ups, then ready for airing then he could start that new season with a healthier approach, maybe find some way to add more structure to his already hectic job.

“Petra, don’t wait for me. I’m working overtime today.”

Petra jumped on her seat.

Levi only realized then, he had come up from right behind her. And Petra had been busy reading through something in her laptop, a quick glance confirmed, it was the unfinished script.

Levi continued. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

Petra looked back at him, a worried look in her face. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Deadlines,” Levi answered.

“You need any help? You know Oluo and Gunther, they can stay too. Or even me.”

“I can finish it myself,” Levi said. He was completely aware either way that it was his job to review everything before anyone else reviewed and before it went on air.

There was an indignant look on Petra's face. But Petra never really imposed. She nagged, doted, argued but she never imposed.

And he managed to pacify her by requesting an espresso and a cup of tea from the tea shop right in front of the studio. Beverages were frowned upon in the video editing room. Levi though was particularly meticulous, he was tired and stressed and he allowed himself some leeway.

Just today. And when they start filming the new season, during the hiatus, Levi would reopen his work with a more organized approach, more suited for his personality. He constantly reassured himself of that as he continued to edit the videos, crosschecking with storyboards and scripts.

Most of the work had been done. Most of the work had been easy to scan through. Still it was hours of sifting through retakes, reviewing and setting them up for reviews and cuts. In the silence, completely alone, He gladly gave the task the required focus, more than enough not to have noticed the sound of the door click behind him.

“This is the coffee you asked for right?” The voice wasn’t Petra’s but still it didn’t seem at all hostile. In fact, the voice seemed friendly.

Friendly enough for Levi to feel obliged to respond.”Thanks.” A new hire maybe? In the one week he had been working there, three people had already quit.

It wasn’t worth a second thought. The important thing was he got his coffee and tea. So he didn’t bother looking up, only looking with his peripherals to see the paper white of the cup just a few inches away. He reached one hand towards the cup and surprisingly, his hand didn’t grasp for paper. It went for something a little softer, something a little cooler but still warm to the touch.

And it moved. A bug? A pest? That had been Levi’s first speculation, being the paranoid clean freak he was. Before his guesses could get anymore creative he looked at the cup and saw the cup was stable on his desk. He had a grip, not on the cup itself but on the other hand which held the cup. The movements were from a hand underneath his..

A wild hand. It slipped out of his grip, and before Levi could pull away, it gripped him in return, squeezing harder on his pointer finger and his middle finger.

For just a second. A painfully awkward second.

A second of realization was all Levi needed to pull away. “May I help you?” he asked. It took a lot more willpower not to curse at that strange invasion of privacy. A second later, reason took over and Levi realized that he was the one who had gripped her first.

He had planned to grip the coffee cup, he justified himself.

“They said… You needed some coffee.” The voice was nonchalant. Yet somehow, nonchalance had managed to make his blood boil. “So I came here to drop it and say hi,” she added, as if that was the most natural response.

‘Say hi’ didn’t usually involve two hands gripping one another, then interlocking. Her hands were still gripping the tip of his fingers and for a second they were frozen.. “Are you always this touchy then?” Levi pressed. Especially with a total stranger. Levi looked up, turned his head towards the voice and confirmed it, she was definitely a familiar face but they were barely even acquaintances.

Brown hair tied up in a ponytail, glasses propped comfortably on her nose and just underneath them, warm brown eyes that had no problem just staring, studying… And in their own way, leaving Levi very very jarred by the mundane gesture called ‘eye contact.’

“I was hoping to talk for a bit,” she said. “If you’re not too busy, we can---”

“I’m busy right now,” Levi said. He pulled the coffee closer to him, suddenly careful when awareness dawned on him abruptly. Suddenly, he was completely aware that the coffee cup was only a few inches away from the computer. “Can this wait?”

Those brown eyes were suddenly wider, a hint of surprise. Then they narrowed at him and Levi felt some pity blanket his already sluggish and aimless movements. Before he knew it, he was very very unproductive.

He had to do something. “My name is Levi by the way.” He was deliberately gentler that time and usually lowering his voice and slowing down did some magic to make him seem kinder than he usually seemed to new people. Or so, that had been what Petra had advised multiple times before.

Levi looked up, forced a subtle smile, a combination between a tightlipped line and crinkles at the edge of his mouth. The most he could manage for a courteous introduction.

Her reaction was unexpected to say the least. He noticed her eyes first, the way they widened. Her jaw dropped. She closed it again, a subtle twitch in her lip.

Did I say something wrong? Levi thought to himself. He looked back at the computer screen. “Levi… Levi Ackerman,” he added. Would that help ease the tension of the room?

Even when Levi started to make a game for himself, playing video edits again and again, he realized he was more focused on pretending to concentrate than in actually polishing the transitions between scenes.

Hange eventually spoke up. “Hello Levi. Nice to meet you.” Her voice was softer in that last sentence.

“Nice to meet you too.” That had been surprisingly difficult to say. He sensed the discomfort in her voice, and maybe he had unknowingly mirrored it.

“My name is Hange Zoe. I’m going to be working as a screenwriter here…”

Oh. Oh. So that’s Hange Zoe. For someone who spearheaded blockbuster hits, who had people talking like crazy over rumors, it turned out she was a very underwhelming presence.

“I’m the cinematographer here,” Levi said. Technically, that was his job title but at that point, he was doing everything. “So I guess we’re going to be working together a lot.”

“We will,” Hange responded. Her presence was underwhelming. So underwhelming that Levi felt no need to even be excited that they had a prodigy screenwriter in their midst. Her voice was soft when she spoke to him. Her eyes were some mix of disappointment, nervousness, uncertainty.

Levi suspected it was her demeanor, her approach towards him that had caused such tension to settle in such a tiny room. “Thank you for coffee,” Levi said. Any nice gesture seemed like a worthwhile attempt to ease it.

A wide smile played at Hange’s lips, still far from what Levi would have considered confident though. “Happy to help.”

That’s the award winning screenwriter? “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“I’m going to be working on a few scripts tonight, have Erwin look at them in a day or so,” she said. Her voice had shifted to something more professional, and her meekness was starting to feel more like a misinterpretation on Levi's end..

“Looking forward to them,” Levi said.

The door slammed behind him, a little louder than the click that followed. The room was dim, it was almost distracting. When Levi turned towards the lights, he considered turning it on, to save himself the discomfort of sore eyes.

He turned his chair, put enough wait into one leg only to notice the sluggishness, the numbness underneath. His legs were jelly. Her hands were trembling and his breaths weren’t coming out in predictable bouts. He turned back to the computer and prepared to review what he had already edited.

The video was playing and Levi was convincing himself that he was productive.

Halfway through the episode, or even a quarter through the episode (Levi wasn’t counting), his mind had wandered. When his surroundings just became a little too overwhelming, Levi let loose just a little bit. He let the heaviness in his chest and the stiffness of his limbs speak for him then.

That voice of a while ago, Hange Zoe’s voice. That voice was nostalgic, heart wrenchingly nostalgic.

[mattsvn]

Nostalgia.

Iwaizumi Hajime x fem!reader

Summary: A summer after graduation finds Iwaizumi Hajime halfway across the globe, sitting in a lecture hall and staring at a golden dome that reminds him of the world and his place in it. Or, the lack thereof.

Genre: Slight angst to fluff. Character introspection, self discovery!

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: none.

A/N: Guess who’s crying :smiley: Okay, so I got inspired by this tik tok, check it out, show the artist some love, and adding to another idea I had this came up, I hope you guys like it!  ALSO, that beautiful summary was suggested by @meliorist-midoriya​ !!!​ Repost from my old blog, this is on my favorite fics ever written hehe

There is something distinctive about the traces left by people in the places they inhabited. Whether intentional or not, to enter a house that was once occupied is to step into an unknown life, where all that remains are the lines drawn on the wall frames, with random dates, leaving a record of someone’s growth.

A part of the wall with a lighter color, where photographs once hung and the trace of old drawings on the wall could be seen even if you paid close attention. Seeing the home you had lived in for years empty, lifeless or without its distinctive smell caused an ache in your chest that you couldn’t describe, how was that atmosphere created again, with spotless walls, perfect floors and the lack of human warmth?

You weren’t afraid of living alone, you were afraid of having a lonely life.

It was frightening to think that the apartment you had just bought might feel like it was inhabited by a ghost, with no trace that anyone had ever been there. One way or another you wanted to make that space, with only two rooms and one bathroom, feel like your home, even if it was just you, even if you would only live there for a few months.

So, amidst the worry about establishing a home and hundreds of paperwork, came the first day of college, one more step to adapt to, the breaking of a routine you had just begun to create.

There was no better way to start that school year than by being on time, so, at least for the first week, you tried to be there early enough. It gave you time to get through the school buildings, and to finish your coffee just before the first class started.

Thursday arrived, with the first class being Medieval Art, not usually a subject that caught the attention of many, so it was common to see empty seats. Still, as usual, you were planning on choosing the seat right next to the window, where the sunlight illuminated your notes, but that day, it seemed that someone already occupied that place.

You sat next to him, there was no reason not to share the table, didn’t pay attention to him, it seemed that the boy was taking a nap a few minutes before class, probably he had a class before that one, or he was just tired. The teacher settled into her seat, and you glanced sideways, only to see that the boy was still asleep, not moving.

“One day, the architect, Frank Gehry said: architecture should speak of its time and place, but yearn for timelessness” she began, while behind her appeared the image of a building you had heard too much about. “I think one of the best representations of this is Hagia Sofia” she continued, showing the image of that beautiful golden dome behind her, she kept talking.

As the guy next to you opened his eyes, sleepily he took a deep breath, concentrating on the image in front of him, with some concern he took the supplies from his backpack to take notes for the class, he seemed lost, confused and, in general, tired, like he was there by mistake, or, against his will.

Iwaizumi was not usually like this. Before moving to the United States, he had never been late for a class, he was the type of person who kept everything in order, always punctual, with notes in order and an impeccable grade. A role model in every sense of the word, student, athlete and perfect son.

But as soon as he arrived from his flight, tired to the bone and affected by jet lag, he slept as much as he could, only to wake up in the early morning, stunned by the different time zone he could not fall asleep at the right time, he still couldn’t get used to the food offered there, and he was unable to find the ingredients he would commonly use in Miyagi to eat.

People drove on the left seat, and the road was on the right side, they used to eat on the street without any concern, or on the way to their jobs and schools, nor did there seem to be manners in public transportation, at least no the ones he knew. There were words that confused him, and the symbols on the streets made his head spin.

People did not have the same habits he knew, and he noticed that after only a couple of days after moving in. By the time school started, Iwaizum was still trying to sleep at the time he was used to and didn’t make it until two or three in the morning, so, it resulted in waking up late and sleeping in between classes, he still wasn’t used to having his notes in English, so his handwriting looked weird, the teachers spoke too fast for him to understand, therefore, his notes were all over the place

Not to mention how unpunctual they were, he found himself a couple of times arriving late to class, only to find out that the teacher wasn’t there, and that it would probably take them twenty minutes more to arrive, and sometimes, they would cancel the class when you were already there, just because.

Even in the classes he looked forward the most, he found himself tired, bored, easily distracted, and he expected the same from this one, a subject he had taken only to complete his units. But, when he opened his eyes, he swore he had never seen anything as beautiful as that. A gorgeous dome of gleaming gold, with light streaming in through the windows and the distinctive marks of history on its walls.

It took him a few seconds to listen to the professor properly, as he was still impressed with what he saw on the projector, there was nothing that did not interest him, from the columns to that painting of the Virgin Mary, an impeccable marble floor, and, the mixture of both religions on its walls was perhaps what left him most curious of all that he had seen.

There was nothing like that in Japan, or at least not that he remembered. Byzantine architecture had that distinctive feature in which it left you mesmerized for a moment, he was so enraptured by it that he didn’t notice that there was someone sitting next to him, taking notes of the things the teacher was saying, with a slightly frown, concentrating, and different pens scattered around the table. The teacher continued talking, still detailing how a building created almost fifteen hundred years ago remained one of the finest constructions in human history.

Hagia Sofia, she read from the blackboard. He wrote down the title in a slightly disorganized way, along with the rest of the words on the board.

Hagia Sofia, meaning: holy wisdom. Constantinople, now Istanbul.

“Long before what we now know, the Byzantine Empire took place in what is now Istanbul, the capital of this empire is perhaps one of the most important historical and architectural sites of the Medieval Era, this was the largest known church  for about a thousand years. It has been used as a church, a mosque and now serves as a museum.” She explained, showing the various images of the building. ”There were two later constructions after this, one destroyed in a fire and the second in the Niká riots, then, in the year 532 construction began on what we now know as Hagia Sofia.“

"Wow” Iwazumi sighed, absently sketching the shape of the building.

“I won’t tell you much about this building, at least not for now,” said the teacher, pausing for a moment to look at the picture. “I want an essay on this topic, and I would like you to gather in pairs for it.” she asked them. “I just want your opinions and analysis on the things that are most important to you about the place and what you think is meant to be represented by these, either imagery or architecture. Your partner will be the person who is closest to you, starting with the two of you, at the bottom.”

You looked at Iwaizumi out of the corner of your eye, having to work with people you didn’t know was always a problem, but, you hoped it wouldn’t be like that this time. He also looked at you, a little relieved thinking that you would surely know something about Medieval Architecture, not like him, who felt totally lost in that new subject. Even so, he returned his gaze to the front, memorizing every detail of that dome in his mind.

The class continued, with the teacher talking about historical processes in the fifth century and the topics that would be taken throughout the course, Hajime could not help but see the excitement that certain topics caused you, especially with the mention of some gothic buildings. And so, in the blink of an eye, the class was over, and before he realized it, you were already grabbing your things to leave.

“My next class is Historical Theory, what’s yours? We can organize on the way” you said, looking at him for a second while you closed your backpack. Iwaizumi tried to put his belongings away as quickly as possible, but failed a bit with his clumsy movements. “What’s your major?"

"Oh, Sports Science,” he replied. Your reaction was as expected: confusion, what was a sports science major doing in a medieval art class? “All the other classes were busy and I needed some extra units.”

“Oh, I see” you nodded, walking out of the classroom with him walking beside you.

“What’s your major?” he asked, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he hadn’t asked that before.

“Art History” you replied, with a smile. “By the way, my name is y/n” you said, extending your hand, he received it, still not used to the way people introduced themselves there, but little by little he was starting to adjust to it.

“Iwaizumi Hajime” he cleared his throat, here they speak by first names, not last names, you idiot, he said to himself in his mind. “Hajime.”

“So, Hajime, you didn’t organize your classes on time, you take naps before class, and you don’t know anything about Medieval Art” you jokingly commented. “We have quite a bit to learn, don’t you think?”

“Uh… y-yes” he nodded, stopping when you did, not even realizing how far he had walked. “I won’t let you do all the work, if that’s what you’re worried about” he assured, it seemed they were in front of the door to your next class the moment you stopped and looked at the door, Iwaizumi didn’t want to take up your time, but he had no idea what to say either.

“Well, how about we meet in the library later this week? You can give me your number so we can schedule the day” you hoped the professor wouldn’t come to the classroom while you were talking to  Iwaizumi, as he seemed like a very nice person, despite how nervous he was.

“Sure, I have the whole afternoon off tomorrow, is that okay?” you nodded, extending your phone to him so he could write down his number and name, to your luck, he returned it just in time.

“Sounds perfect to me, I’ll text you as soon as my class is over” you said, saying goodbye and entering just before the teacher, who closed the door behind himself.

Iwaizumi stared at the door for a few seconds, letting out a sigh,then, he walked to his next class. It felt awfully strange to walk around campus alone, with no one by his side. Maybe he had gotten too used to spending his free time with the rest of his friends in highschool, and, at times like these, where he was waiting for a message from a cute girl, he couldn’t help but think about how much he missed them.

He was alone, and that was terrifying.

Iwaizumi looked at his phone for the third time in an hour, the class, food chemistry, was just short of making him fall asleep, yet he couldn’t help but look at his phone and wonder at what point the cute girl in the Medieval Art class would send him a message.

She didn’t until almost four hours later, just as Iwaizumi had recently returned to his apartment and was working on a long assignment for the rest of the week. Ignoring the sound of a message at first, thinking it was probably Oikawa bugging him about some new thing he learned in Argentina, so, he didn’t look at his phone until a couple of minutes later, when a second message came through.

“Hi! Sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner, I’ve been a little busy, but this is my number!”

“My last class ends at 2:00 p.m., do you mind if I meet you at that time in the library?”

He answered almost immediately, regretting later for doing it so quickly, you look like a desperate idiot, he thought. To his luck, as soon as he locked the phone, the screen lit up again with the reply.

It seemed that after that things flowed perfectly, even though before he met her they would have seemed like inconveniences to him, now they looked as an opportunity. The professor for tomorrow’s class informed them that he was out of town, so his classes would start until the following week, which gave Iwaizumi a chance to continue with his homework calmly, and, to get ready to see the pretty girl the next day, maybe even sleep properly that night.

However, nothing went as he planned.

Again, he found himself staring at the ceiling at midnight, without any possibility of being able to fall asleep, no matter how hard he tried, nothing seemed to work. That wasn’t his bed, nor his sheets or his favorite pillow, it wasn’t his wall or the window overlooking his backyard. As he stared at the empty, flat ceiling, he wondered why he couldn’t at least see a golden dome so he would have something to think about while he tried to sleep.

And so he woke up quite late, much later than he was used to. Maybe his body took the opportunity to recover all his lost energy, he had no idea. The only thing he knew was that he woke up thirty minutes before the agreed time with the pretty girl, and, it took fifteen minutes to get to the library from where he was.

He sent as many messages as he could while getting dressed and trying to look as presentable as possible. At least it wasn’t strange to see people running around campus, although it was in the first few weeks of school, where no one was really worried about anything.

“I told you I could wait a while” you mentioned, Iwaizumi was standing in front of her, trying to control his breathing, visibly agitated for having run all the way to the library. “Tell me you at least ate something” you murmured, in a way to accept his apology, then he sat on the free seat in front of you, trying to avoid that questioning.

“I can eat something later, sorry I was late” he apologized, again, he expected you to be upset, but you weren’t, instead, the first thing he saw was a reassuring smile, you hadn’t been more than ten minutes late, so, there was really no problem. “Again, I’m sorry, I was…”

“You don’t have to apologize, Iwaizumi. You were only ten minutes late, I’ve known people who take an hour to show up” the boy looked at the table for the first time, it was almost like the mess she had in yesterday’s class, only now it had several open books around it. “My class ended early so I went ahead to research an assignment I had, don’t you want to go get something to eat before we start?”

“I’d rather do this and then I can eat something, I wouldn’t want to waste your time even more” he replied, it was too obvious that he still didn’t quite master English, or maybe he did but he was quite embarrassed about how it was that he pronounced things. “I’ve never had this happen to me before, I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay? Seriously, but why are you late? If you say it doesn’t usually happen to you” Iwaizumi looked towards the window with a frown, he felt like he would spend an embarrassment for that, because, sleeping late was not a good excuse, actually, nothing was a good excuse for his lateness, but still, he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re coming in with a hangover?”

“No, no, not at all. It’s just… I’m still not used to the time change here and I’m used to sleeping at a totally different time” he said, though there was more to it.

The insomnia was only a collateral result of how he felt, and perhaps what kept him most irritable. Perhaps he had chosen that change too quickly, or the feeling was probably something that would fade with time. But he couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t quite connected to reality, like he was living a strange dream. The routine he had worked on for years that kept him safe was gone, and was now out of his reach.

He missed going out every Tuesday for lunch with Oikawa, Makki and Mattsun. He missed walking to school and greeting his neighbors, or the way Oikawa’s older sister squeezed his cheeks, even though he said how much he detested it, he missed the karaoke he went to once a month and his mother’s food, hell, he even missed Oikawa’s obnoxious nephew.

“So, where are you from? Moving is hard enough, I can’t imagine doing it from another country” he looked at her, realizing she was genuinely concerned and curious, she meant it. The sincerity brought him calm, enough to say what he felt.

“Japan, I just got here a couple of weeks ago, I still don’t understand much and my English isn’t the best so I’m not having the best time” he pointed out, as he picked up his notebook, watching as she jotted something down on the computer, adding a document to start the essay. “Not to be rude, but your culture is really weird.”

“You don’t have to tell me, it is. But you end up getting used to it, don’t you? I find people’s behavior patterns depending on their culture interesting” Iwaizumi hadn’t even noticed that there was already a book on Byzantine architecture on the table, which showed a picture of Hagia Sophia from the outside. “Besides, it’s normal to miss your hometown, don’t you think, what did you most like to do there?”

“Playing volleyball with my friends” he answered without hesitation, for it was true. He missed every detail of it, from the practices, to the coach yelling at his teammates to the games, even the ones he lost.

“Oh, were they on a team together?” she put the computer aside, devoting her full attention to him. Iwaizumi nodded, ready to talk about all the amazing things his team had. “Were you guys good?”

“Well, yes. At least within reason, we were. We never made it to nationals, but within our prefecture we were very good” he nodded, still feeling the bitter taste of defeat on the tip of his tongue as if it had happened yesterday, his last chance to go to nationals ended before it even started.

“And what position did you play?” he questioned, Iwaizumi picked up the book on the table solely to have something to distract himself with.

“Uh, wing spiker. I was the ‘ace’ of the school, but of course, I couldn’t be any of it without Oikawa."

"Oikawa?”

The conversation did not stop since then, between readings, corrections and stories about his high school, Iwaizumi did not even realize that almost three hours had passed, three hours in which he could not believe what he saw in images, despite all the fear he had, all the nostalgia that accumulated inside him, seeing that building in Constantinople brought him a peace that he could not manage to understand, no matter how much he wondered what was going on.

Although it didn’t compare to how the pretty girl explained things, he should probably stop referring to her as the pretty girl and start calling her by her name, as he ended up forgetting it, and every time she said his name, he blamed himself for not remembering hers. He learned everything he wanted to know in one afternoon, thanks to her, the semi domes, the atrium, every detail, structural and artistic there, he memorized it with her voice, melodious, calm, safe.

After making a couple of questions, he lost his fear of asking what he was seeing, because, as she told him, “no one knows everything, there will always be someone who knows something you don’t”. So, he ended up engaged in a conversation about the wonders of medieval architecture and no more than ten minutes later, the conversation drifted to the karaoke that his friends loved, or the park where he and Oikawa learned to play volleyball.

Life at the university became more bearable thanks to her, Iwaizumi heard the story of how she had just moved out of her parents’ house, how they also moved out of their house and the pain it caused her to leave the home she loved empty. She enjoyed knitting, watching movies and listening to new music all the time. In a couple of weeks, he discovered her favorite food, and the kind of clothes she liked best, the movies that made her cry and the ones that made her die laughing, and with each thing he learned, she asked him the same questions. Even though he wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to answer, or what people used to say, it made him wonder if he seemed like a nice person or someone who would be interesting to spend time with.

Tuesdays of going out to eat became Tuesdays of organized movies in the dorms, once-a-month karaokes became visits to museums instead of his neighbors, now he was greeting his roommates every morning, now the cute girl in Medieval Art class was the one squeezing his cheeks, it seemed that, little by little, everything was starting to be as he knew it.

Or at least that’s what he thought

“But what do you like, Iwaizumi?” she asked him on a sunny afternoon where sunlight illuminated her room and there was a random movie on TV as the background noise, around her a lot of snacks and fried food, that’s what Saturdays were like, relaxed and sunny. “I almost feel like I know Oikawa like you do, but you don’t tell me much about yourself.”

“Huh?” he asked, doubtful, hadn’t he been talking about himself all that time, or had he only thought he was? “I don’t know what you want to know about me.”

“I want to know who you are, beyond all your friends and the people in your life.I know what Oikawa likes and how many fans he had or the perfect settings he did, but I want to know about you.” she told him.

She didn’t know if it was because the girl was an art enthusiast, or if she just hadn’t met someone who wanted to know more about him for her own pleasure, for what she felt was inexplicable.

“Well, well… with my team” he began, stopping the moment he saw the look on the girl’s face, who could only thus make him feel as if he were a scolded child. He sighed, running his hand through his hair, confused as to what it was he should say.

“Who are you, Iwaizumi, what do you like, what song do you like the most? I don’t want to know about other people, I want to know about you, about what makes you who you are.” She began, the moment only seemed more special with the way the sun was shining on her skin and her smile seemed to shine even brighter than it always did. “I know you’re a good teammate, a good son, a good friend, but who are you, what are the qualities that you have?”

He looked into her eyes, how many times hadn’t he stopped to look into those beautiful eyes that stole his breath, or those lips that said the cutest yet most painful things?“

"Iwaizumi. I want you to tell me the story that you have, like Hagia Sophia, do you remember all the marks that it has? the mix of everything that lies in you? There is so much history in who you are beyond your friends, I want to know if you are happy or if you like ice cream, how you react to things. I hope you understand me, it’s okay to like things that your friends do or showed you, but I don’t think it should be all that you are, so, who are you?”

Still not taking his eyes off her, he remembered every detail of the building he studied for weeks, the religious motifs and art on its walls, the history even in the broken parts of the floor, or those portions where the paint was completely gone. And, with tears in his eyes, he replied:

“I don’t know.” He murmured, his voice trembling.

And he really didn’t know, he had lived so long being a friend, son, teammate and neighbor that, little by little, without realizing it, he stopped prioritizing the things that to him and only to him made him happy.

“Well, there’s only one thing to do about it” she murmured in the same way, very close to him as if she were telling him a secret. “Find out who you are.”

And just like that, the first picture of the two of you decorated your wall, along with some paint smudges from a sunny afternoon, a canvas, and some brushes, and a volleyball mark at first. Two wrongs can make a right, your mother would say. You, in search of rebuilding your space, and he, in search of himself.

You couldn’t have picked a better time than that, or a better life than that.

taglist: @sugas-sweetheart @kirislut @hannahalanib1 @goopyartiste @yee-harr @ohno-grapes @peach-pops @meliorist-midoriya @milktyama @majestic-sea-flip-flop @starlessnyx @tanakasimpcorner @msbyslugg @ordinary-ace @boosyboo9206

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 46

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 46

The girl simply pulled up a chair and sat down, and said inexplicably: "There are other things. Grandma said that before I was born, many people from Beijing went to the tomb and hired people from the town. And then I don't know what happened but they dispersed without a result, and the people who came back were so frightened that they said. . ." The girl pretended to be mysterious and approached Lin Yan's ear, lowering her voice, "It's haunted."

"Yo, it's not far away, you're not haunted, are you?" Yin Zhou teased her.

The little girl rolled her eyes in disdain: "Our store has good feng shui, otherwise why would you rush to come here?"

The girl babbled and talked a lot. Whose children met zombies in the wild, whose house was haunted by weasels*, which man came back from work and was tortured by ghostly things all night. Everything she mentioned, Lin Yan heard. He always suspected that Xiao Yu was a village official who had been conscientiously frightening ignorant people for decades.

*(T/N: In China, it is considered bad luck to kill a weasel, as they're said to be wandering spirits (shen) that can steal and replace people's souls; killing them brings bad luck or death to the killer and their family.)

The wild cat on the roof let out a cry. The night was getting deeper and deeper. These people weren't in the mood to listen to her nonsense anymore and went back to their rooms to sleep.

The room was on the second floor. Its layout was simple. The door smelled musty. The place wasn't big; there was only the bed, wardrobe and a TV that who knows how many years old it was. There were beer cans on the window sill. The window pane is wooden, painted with green paint, and a faded ribbon wind chime is hanging on it. Lin Yan opened the window for ventilation, and the brass bell was blown by the wind, clattering.

The white porcelain basin in the bathroom had not been used for a long time and is caked with a layer of scale.

"The place is broken, can you make do with it?" Lin Yan asked.

"All I need is you here with me."

Lin Yan nodded tiredly and turned off the lamp.

"Go to sleep. I'll unpack my things tomorrow. I'm tired from running around all day."

The mountains were damp, and the damp quilt was heavy on his body. In the little moonlight, the mildew on the walls looked like a group of large moths. Lin Yan tossed and turned and couldn't sleep. He got up and leaned on the bed to smoke, one hand casually ruffling Xiao Yu's hair. The ghost's eyes were closed. His black hair flowed behind him, his skin showing a sickly bluish white.

Lin Yan looked at his face, and suddenly a thought flashed in his mind. What did he look like when he died? Wearing a white scholar's uniform, blood pouring out, his face gradually losing its colour, his lips turning purple. He was lying in the coffin alone, his skin grew corpse spots, rotting, and oozing thick yellow corpse fluid, and the bones were vividly visible.

He shuddered at his own imagination.

The room was so quiet that you could hear the wind whistling through the mountains, and the water tank in the courtyard was bubbling. Xiao Yu caught Lin Yan's hand and said softly: "What she talked about, I didn't do it."

Lin Yan smiled: "I know, my nobleman's son is a ghost with modesty."

Xiao Yu dragged him under the blanket. Lin Yan snuffed out the cigarette in his hand and turned back to kiss the ghost's lips. Their legs were entwined and rubbed against each other, and the kiss was so urgent that he couldn't control it.

Something hard pressed against Lin Yan's legs, and Xiao Yu stared at him in the dark like his eyes were on fire.

"Do you want to?"

Xiao Yu asked Lin Yan to turn his back to him. He clasped his waist with both hands, burying his cheeks in his neck, moaning and then he stopped moving.

Lin Yan stroked along his fingers: "Just one time."

"That won't be enough."

The two looked at each other and smiled helplessly. They calmed down after a while, hugged each other and slowly fell asleep.

It was cloudy and raining. The dog that was lurking somewhere was barking desperately. Lin Yan broke out of Xiao Yu's arms and pulled his shoes to open the door to go downstairs. There was no one on duty at the service counter on the first floor. A short distance across the street was the wilderness. The mountains in the distance were dark, the moon couldn't be seen at all, and there were unknown little white flowers blooming everywhere.

Lin Yan walked forward unconsciously. He always felt that someone was waiting for him in front of him. As he walked, a lone light appeared in the wilderness. It was a lonely house. The old-fashioned windows were covered with white paper, revealing a long dark shadow, resembling a man with drooping shoulders, hung from the window lattice and looked out.

He immediately remembered the girl's words and quickened his pace to go around. When he reached the door of the bungalow, the door suddenly opened. A rural couple came out and slowly waved to Lin Yan. The woman's hair was twisted into braids and the man was thin and tall. Their faces were extraordinarily pale, and their movements were slower than normal. Lin Yan didn't dare to stop, so he lowered his head and trotted up.

Surrounded by mountains, the shadow of the town could no longer be seen. There was no one around.

The wormwood grass was getting higher and higher, and the road became difficult to walk on. Lin Yan broke a branch and held it in his hand. He crossed a large field of wild sorghum and came to a flat wasteland. Right in front of him, there was a large coffin more than half a person tall. The coffin, soaked in rain, reflected the wet white light.

He knew this black coffin, sealed with 64 copper nails, made of golden silk, and immortalized for thousands of years.

A strike of lightning flashed. The coffin suddenly opened, and a figure sat up silently, wearing a bright red and purple burial costume, black hair drooping, and a pair of malicious eyes staring straight at Lin Yan.

It was Xiao Yu.

Lin Yan couldn't help taking a deep breath. Why was Xiao Yu here? He thought in confusion while picking up his pace by a few strides, could it be that he saw him going out and waited here on purpose? Or. . . was he simply calling him here?

The face of the person in the coffin was pale as if it had been painted with powder, but his lips were a sickly red, and his blue-white fingers tightly grasped the sides of the coffin. Seeing Lin Yan step forward, the corners of his mouth pulled upwards, revealing a strange smile.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time. . ." His voice was raspy and slow. Every word he said was accompanied by a strange hissing sound as if there was a leak somewhere.

Lin Yan used his sleeve to wipe the rain from Xiao Yu's face and heartily gathered the soaked black hair together.

"I'm here, aren't I? Let's go. Come back with me."

Xiao Yu smiled grimly in the night. His cold hands clasped Lin Yan's neck like a metal claw. He suddenly felt that something was wrong, but the hands on his neck tightened even more.

"Look at me, Lin Yan. Look at what I really look like."

Lin Yan's eyes widened in horror. The ghost's face slowly changed. Green corpse spots began to grow and his lips began to rot, revealing white teeth. Because the muscles at the corners of his mouth were atrophied, he seemed to be smiling all the time. Strands of hair hung down, and his skin was heated like wax and began to drip down.

A soft object fell in Lin Yan's hand, and when he looked down, he saw it was an eyeball.

His skin felt like it was being stabbed by thousands of needles. Lin Yan wanted to push Xiao Yu away, but when his hand touched his shoulder, he slid away. His muscles were like rotten soap, soft and slippery. Just a touch would sink in. . .

Lin Yan shouted loudly, shouting Xiao Yu's name indiscriminately and struggling hard. The hand on his neck had become a withered bone, but his strength was unbelievably strong. The skeleton approached him, and his voice became high-pitched: "See what I really look like!"

"Go away. . . go. . ." Lin Yan gritted his teeth. His chest felt stuffy, like a sack of rice was pressed against it, and he couldn't move.

"Lin Yan, wake up!"

Someone was shaking his shoulder hard.

Lin Yan struggled to open his eyes. What he thought was a shout was just a mindless murmur. The light of the lamp was warm. Xiao Yu's face came into view up close, his eyes concerned. The image of the skeleton in the dream world came to the surface. Lin Yan jerked up and rolled backwards, cowering in a ball against the head of the bed.

"Go away." He said aggressively. The nightmare was really unlike anything he'd had before. His clothes were wet with cold sweat, and they clung to him coldly.

Xiao Yu pulled Lin Yan's arm from around his knees and held him in his arms despite the resistance. He soothingly kissed the side of his face. It took a while for the man in his arms to stop shaking. He still lowered his head, not daring to look at him

"A nightmare?"

Lin Yan nodded and said hoarsely: "I. . . I dreamed of a coffin, and you, you. . ."

"What I looked like after death." Xiao Yu calmly said.

"How did you know?"

Xiao Yu was silent for a moment then said softly, "Lin Yan, you're very afraid of me. You often show that expression, as if I would suddenly become an evil demon mandrill, the god of plague, or something else."

"If you don't want to see it tomorrow, don't go. I became a pile of bones long ago. After watching this, I don't know how many nightmares you'll have again."

"I didn't mean that. Don't think too much about it. . ." Lin Yan awkwardly tried to hug Xiao Yu, but he quietly avoided it.

The two lay side by side on the bed, each thinking about their own thoughts. Lin Yan stared at the ceiling. The mildew on the wall seemed to be magnified in the darkness. He heard Xiao Yu sigh, but he didn't know what to say to comfort him. The old-fashioned window frame couldn't close tightly, and the wind got in through the crack of the window, making a rustling sound.

"Are you asleep?"

"No."

"Let me tell you a story."

The ghost didn't answer. Lin Yan said softly to himself: "It's a famous ghost story about a couple climbing a mountain with their friends. Halfway up the mountain, the girl couldn't walk and decided to let the rest go up the mountain first. She stayed at the camp and waited. Unexpectedly, an avalanche occurred soon after everyone left. The girl waited for seven days with fear and trepidation. When she thought there was no hope, she suddenly saw a group of people returning from the blizzard. It was her friends, but among the group of people, the only thing missing was the girl's boyfriend."

"The friends told the girl that her boyfriend had died in the avalanche. The girl was heartbroken. Three days later, everyone gathered around the campfire to keep warm. A man with blood on his face suddenly rushed out of the mountain. It was the girl's boyfriend. As soon as he grabbed the girl's hand, he said: 'We encountered an avalanche on the mountain. Everyone else died. I'm the only one who survived.'"

"Tell me, who is the one who died?"

Xiao Yu turned his back to Lin Yan and continued: "What do you think?"

"I don't know." Lin Yan sighed. "But if it were us instead, I'd go with you."

The ghost didn't answer. Lin Yan rested the side of his face on Xiao Yu's back. This time he didn't hide and let him hold him.

"I don't know what will happen this time, but no matter what the circumstances are, let me choose, and I will choose you." Lin Yan grabbed Xiao Yu's shoulder and whispered embarrassedly: "Turn around and sleep. I'm a little bit afraid of you. . . But when I can't see your face, I'm even more afraid."

Xiao Yu chuckled. He turned around and pressed his forehead against Lin Yan's. He reached out his hand and pinched his face: "Wait and see what you do when you turn into a skeleton."

"Boil a big pot of bone broth." Lin Yan put his chin on Xiao Yu's shoulder with a smile. "Nurturing and nourishing. . ."

Before he could finish speaking, the smile on his face suddenly froze.

There was a face outside the window. A white and blue face was quietly staring at them. It was round, wearing an empty earthy yellow robe, and its head was tilted to one side. Seeing Lin Yan looking at him, the corners of his mouth were pulled upward in a strange smile. It disappeared in a flash.

Outside the window, only the ink-like night and the whistling wind remained.

Lin Yan pointed out the window and was speechless for a long time. Xiao Yu frowned. He couldn't help the thumping in his heart.

Ten minutes later, Yin Zhou, the little Daoist priest and Lin Yan gathered on the dirt road in front of the hotel and looked around. The group was drowsy. Yin Zhou was dragged from the bed by Lin Yan and took a dagger from under his pillow. He was only wearing shorts at the moment, standing on the empty street looking a little dazed.

"Brother Lin Yan, did you fall asleep and get confused?" A-Yan asked suspiciously.

Lin Yan shook his head: "I haven't slept at all."

Yin Zhou changed his usual confusion and suddenly said, "Lin, what did you see?"

"The temple master. I'm sure it was his face. he found us." Lin Yan said. "We have to be careful. . ."

"No way." Yin Zhou stared at Lin Yan's face, "Think about it. You're staying on the second floor."

Lin Yan froze. After a while, he took off the slippers on his feet, glanced at the soles of the shoes, and said solemnly: "I had a nightmare just now. I dreamt that I went into the wilderness and saw a coffin. . . The problem is that these disposable slippers are from the hotel. I've never worn them before going out. How can there be mud and weeds on the soles?"

[sylvie-writes]

𝐀𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐦 ✯ 𝐒. 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

word count: 4,000

pairing: steve rogers x female reader

summary: If one had to live the same day over and over again, it would be most sensible of them to choose the best one. Well unfortunately for you, you didn’t get a choice.

warnings: angst

a/n: this was the one-shot i had posted a preview of and i apologize for taking so long to post it. i couldn’t decide how to end it so then i took a poll and it was a fluffy ending, which helped me a bit! thanks! btw sorry if the formatting looks weird. on my computer it looks weird, but on my phone it looks normal so idk. 

please excuse any mistakes!

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For the first time in years, you awoke to notice the light of the sun and how it ever so brightly twinkled. The sun had never actually disappeared, but today you had actually taken the time to notice it in all of its glory. Just the mere sight brought a bittersweet smile to your face, along with the feeling of delight, something you had missed so dearly during the dark period of time that had finally ended yesterday. Half of the world had disappeared for what seemed forever and with that no longer looming over your head, you could actually live and enjoy life for what it is. It may sound cliche, but the sun did seem brighter to you now, and the world a happier place after being reset. Last night, you had watched the news and for the first time in forever, it was enjoyable. On the screen, images of people reuniting along with many others sending words of thanks to your crew mates turned family, the Avengers. 

Today, you were mostly relishing in the peace, but just a small bit of worry settled in your stomach as Steve was returning the stones back to their normal timelines. No matter how many times Sam offered to go with him, the stubborn man refused, still ready to take the risk on his own. Times like these made you miss Nat even more as she was probably the only person, aside from you, to be able to talk Steve out of anything. Instead of continuing to dwell on the matter that was out of your hands, you turned away from the sunny window and to your left. The sound of your shuffling in the sheets must’ve awoken the man beside you as his grip tightened its hold on your waist. He pulled you closer into his chest and then wrapped two arms around you, forming a warm and inviting hug. After some sleepy groaning, lips met the top of your head which you could only tell by feeling since your face was currently being squished into the man. 

“Good Morning, gorgeous. What time is it?” Steve picked his chin up from the top of your head, peering over to your nightstand where the clock sat. As he did so, he noticed you were squeezing your eyes shut and murmuring some silent “no’s” and “it’s not time yet.” 

He chuckled at your defiance and then unwrapped his arms so he could lean back and instead run his fingers through your hair. “I hate to break it to you, but we have to meet the rest of the team in an hour.” 

Turning onto your stomach, you threw your face into Steve’s pillow while also ignoring his annoying bright smile as if he was entertained. “Ugh, can’t they just wait. It’s not like the stones have suddenly grown feet and are gonna run away.”

“Hon, you’ve left me no choice.” 

It got freakishly quiet and next thing you knew, Steve had thrown back the sheets and thrown you over his shoulder.

“Steve! I was just about to get up!!” You quickly sat up to face the blonde and not his backside which caused him to somehow gently rotate you in a way that you were now being held bridal style. Steve simply shrugged and kissed your forehead before heading to the bathroom to start the shower, you still in his arms.

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

It was only supposed to be seconds. 

And as of now, it has been at least a minute.

All hell's breaking loose at the moment. Bucky, feet glued to the ground, looks around as if Steve is gonna magically appear and Sam is worriedly questioning Bruce who is anxiously messing with the buttons of his controls. On the other hand, you are still staring at the platform, the traffic in your mind finally halting which ultimately caused you to drop to the floor in shock. As you were out cold on the ground, Sam looked over for a split second and luckily caught you in his sight. 

About fifteen minutes later, you woke up in the infirmary. You looked to your right where Bruce was standing with a water while Bucky and Sam waved at you from the nearby seats. Your first reaction was anger as you saw the three here and not working on getting Steve back who was currently nowhere in sight. Rejecting the bottle, you sat up straight. With fire in your eyes, you stared at Bruce, “Where is he?”

The gentle giant just shook his head, urging you to drink more water. Immediately, you ripped the i.v tube from your arm, ignoring the slight burn and then the draft from the paper gown that clothed your body. Just as you made it to the door, both Sam and Bucky held out their hands, stopping you from exiting. 

“Woah woah, missy. Where do you think you are going?”

Bucky slowly reached out to place a hand on your waist in a way to make sure that you wouldn’t run off while Sam distracted you further. 

“To find Steve.”

Sam sucked in a harsh breath and folded his arms over his chest. “(y/n). We all care about both you and Steve very much-”

“If you did care, then you’d be out there looking for him!” Your emotions had finally bubbled over and now resentful tears were starting to emerge. 

“Think about what you just said because it doesn’t make sense! We are just as worried as you are and we’ve done everything, and I mean everything, we can. He’s gone.” Sam’s eyes softened and he put a hand on your shoulder, “Please get some rest. There’s nothing else to be done.” The stubbornness started to subside and in turn, reality seeped into your mind. You then looked to Bucky, seeing that he was looking at you the same way as Sam.

“Sam and I will be on the lookout. I promise (y/n). Steve wouldn’t want you up right now and you know that.” 

With a childlike huff you turned back towards the bed as the two men ushered you to it. 

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

Hours must have passed because next thing you knew it was morning again and you were back in your own bed. It was somewhat shocking as you felt as good as new, possibly even better than you’ve felt before. As you finally awoke, you felt something heavy on your waist and looking down, you noticed an arm slung around your torso. You blinked a few times to make sure it was real and your mind then ran to the most sensible conclusion.

Whispering, you stared at the hand as if it was foreign, “Bucky?”

Suddenly a voice replied in all of its deepend glory, “Sorry, doll, but it’s Steve.” 

The hand then moved and you heard sheets shuffling as Steve turned onto his back to stretch his arms with an overdramatic yawn.

You shot up faster than an eager student’s hand. With a soft gasp you brought a hand to your lips. It couldn’t be…

“W-When did-d you get back?” It was quiet, but Steve’s enhanced hearing picked it up just as he had done so a few seconds before.

“What do you mean?” He looked at you with pure confusion. 

“You returned the time stones. Yesterday… And you never came back.”

Dark blonde eyebrows creased together and a hand made its way to your forehead. “(y/n), you are worrying me. We aren’t returning the stones until today. Are you okay? What did you eat last night?”

Before Steve could mother goose anymore, you clumsily shuffled out of the bed, but not removing eye contact from the man. “I’ll-I’ll be right back.” 

You slipped on shoes, apparently mismatched ones, but you were too anxious to care. In a millisecond, the bedroom door was shut. You, running out like you were fearing for your life and Steve on the other side, concerned and confused.

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

“GUYS, THEY ARE REAL! WE ARE GONNA NEED TO GO INTO LOCKDOWN!”

Running into the kitchen like a madwoman, you screamed the words you believed to be true. The innocent bystanders, Scott and Wanda, were currently gathering the rest of their things, while Bruce stood in the kitchen making breakfast. Everyone had been ready to go off onto their own paths after the events of yesterday (including Tony’s funeral), but currently you thought you held some mind-blowing information that would stop time, so to say.

“(y/n) what’s happening?” Wanda threw down her box and rushed to your side as you were already talking a mile a minute. None of them could understand a single word for it sounded like absolute gibberish. 

“There is a shapeshifter in my room. You know, those things Carol talked about! I thought she was bullshitting us, but the Skrulls or whatever are real. What are we gonna do? I know there are some th-” 

“Darling, what are you going on about? There’s nothing in our room, I just came from there. You’ve been acting weird all morning.” Entering the common area, Steve leaned up against the doorway before beginning to approach your shaking form.

Absolute horror in your eyes, you looked at Steve in terror as he now tenderly held your wrists in his hands.

“It’s you.”

He titled his head like a confused puppy while the rest of the onlookers stood by. You weren’t sure what to say for if you said “it’s him,” that would be equivalent to standing in a bank robbery and calling the cops right in front of the shooter. Rather you went with what you thought was smart and uttered Wanda’s name. 

It took her a second, but she looked as if she had caught on once having invaded your thoughts. Although, your hope was lost when she ended up mirroring Steve’s perplexed look. 

Taking matters into your own hands (quite literally,) you roughly shook your hands free from Steve’s loving hold and walked over to the nearby side table, discreetly eying the lamp. From first glance, it looked to the team members as if you were simply going to turn on the light, but all of a sudden, the lamp was in your hands and ready to launch at Steve. A mixture of “stops” and gasps sounded when it flew in the air. The team was quick to act, but it all happened in slow-motion for you. 

The lamp froze in the air with a red aura surrounding it thanks to Wanda while Steve tossed himself at you to avoid the incoming object. Of course, by doing so he rolled to make sure not to crush you while making impact with the ground. Once everything stopped, the lamp was returned to its place and your teammates started to slowly approach, you went to stand up, but Steve’s grasp stopped you. In fact, he flipped you over so your back was now on the carpet, an aggravated blonde now hanging over your body. His hands were pinning down your once flailing arms and his eyes burned into your own.

“(y/n). Tell me what is going on. Now.” Rarely did Steve ever use this tone with you. Actually, he’s never used it with you. It also occurred to you that you probably looked a bit insane to your friends and boyfriend, so you figured it was time to come clean. If they thought you were deranged, then oh well. What else was there to do?

“If you aren’t a shapeshifter then what’s happening!?!” 

You reached out to grab the fistfuls of his shirt before beginning to cry quietly. Steve could sense you were really upset over whatever this is because you were never one to act in such an irrational way. At this point, Bruce, Wanda and Scott stood by, concerned for you and the current situation. Steve leisurely leaned down, pressing a comforting kiss to your temple before hovering by your ear. 

“What is wrong, my love? Tell me so I can help you.”

Stopping the tears, you peered up at the man who you trusted your life with. So far, you had managed to convince yourself that this was really your Steve, but that only left one conclusion, yet you didn’t want to believe it.  Not yet anyway.

“Steve, you disappeared...yesterday. I can remember it all, I swear.” Your voice died down as you thought of a way to convince them. “Bruce, tell them, you were there too! Please, I’ve already lived this day.”

Chiming in from the back was Bruce, “What day do you think it is then?”

You replied the date at which Wanda told you that it wasn’t, but rather that it was the day before. 

Steve had loosened his hold on you at this point and you managed to scoot up and lean up back against the side table. 

“So then what does that mean? I’m living the same day… over again?”

Everyone started to nod in acceptance like they were welcoming the idea and you just suddenly burst out, hysterically laughing at the ridiculousness.“Well that’s just great, guys!  I’ve lost my damn mind. It’s okay you all don’t have to play along, just ship me away already, will y’a?” 

“I’ve gone off the rails, Steven. How do you even put up with this!?” You motioned to yourself in disgust and Steve laughed, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I’ve seen a lot, especially these last five years, so this doesn’t even sound remotely crazy.”

Scott moved closer to reassure you. “No, (y/n), you haven’t! This is entirely possible. believe it or not. In simplest terms, it’s like that movie,” The man paused to think before shining a boastful smile at you, “Groundhog’s Day. You know, the one with Bill Murray.”

Bruce piped up from his distant spot in the kitchen, “Not another movie, Scott! We’ve already discussed this, just because it was in a movie, doesn’t make it true.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it. That IS how we found time travel after all. Thank god my parents let me watch Back to the Future or else-” 

The doctor looked at Scott with a face that practically screamed “fair enough and please just shut up,” which the rambling man took note of as he quickly piped down. (You took note of this situation and for future reference remembered not to ask them this question for the rest of the time you’d live this day.)

From there, you and the team spent the rest of the time trying to figure whatever it is before Steve had to leave with the stones. You only hoped that night everything would be normal or that this was really just a bad and very vivid dream. 

An extremely bad one.

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

Unfortunately, you awoke the next morning in the same position that you’d love to be in any other day, which was Steve’s arm cocooning you. 

Starting from today on and for the next ten days or so, you’d approach the day as such. 

In the morning, you’d try your hardest to convince Steve to not leave. 

He’d ask you why and you’d come up with some bullshit excuse, different from the day before, along with some puppy eyes that the man would just laugh at. As you pouted, he’d kiss your sulking lips and murmur “you’re so silly, doll.” 

No matter how many times you tried to convince him, he ironically always said that exact phrase in return.

Needless to say it was a bit annoying and you were tired of living the same day over and over again. Steve would never not do something for the world unless it meant hurting you. If only he knew that this simple act was like driving a knife straight through your heart. 

You tried to keep count of the amount of days on a piece of paper, but soon discovered that would be useless by day two since it just disappeared into thin air. 

Of all the days to relive, it just had to be the one where Steve vanished. Yet, no matter how many times you live that day, a pit of angst always settled in your stomach even though you knew what was to come later on that day. It was absolute torture seeing the love of your life perish  before you and you couldn’t do anything to change it. Sometimes at night, while you laid alone, you’d wonder why of all the days that it had to be this one. What had you done to piss off the universe so bad?

Finally, by what you assumed was day eight, you just accepted your fate and decided to just have some fun with it. If you were gonna have to suffer, you might as well make something out of the day. Granted you were gonna solve cancer or help homelessness because your efforts would be reset the “next” day. 

As the team prepared for Steve’s departure, you’d be out eating tons and tons of your favorite meals knowing that it wouldn’t affect you tomorrow. One day you even spontaneously caught a plane to some country you’d never even visited and just blew an unfathomable amount of money. On other days, you had also invested time and money into getting your hair done into impossible and whacky styles while simultaneously regretting not having painted your nails the day before. It was stupid to worry about or even bring up, but they were constantly chipped and it was aggravating to look at as you foolishly sped through the city in an expensive car that wouldn’t be yours tomorrow. 

What you were doing was absolutely careless, reckless and just downright out of character for anyone, especially you. Yet when you knew it all wouldn’t matter tomorrow, you carried on with your disregard for the world. Numb from the pain you were just trying to feel something. 

When it finally came time for Steve to leave, you’d bid him goodbye and when he vanished, you would see Sam, Bucky, and Bruce’s shocked expressions for what felt like the thousandth time. Honestly, you knew they wouldn’t remember and instead you’d just walk away, trying your best to not let your emotions jump out once more. You figured that after the tenth day, you were just desensitized and that you should be unaffected by now, when in reality you were still hurting. At this point, even though you got to spend time with Steve, your hours hurting outweighed your hours enjoying life. 

There was no use in any longer faking to yourself. The logic of “what you think is what you become,” wasn’t helping so you instead swallowed the bitter pill of reality and moved on. For real this time. 

You had finally come to accept that Steve was gonna be gone and no one knew when he’d come back, but you knew one thing.

The pain of constantly seeing him disappear, knowing there was nothing you could say or do to stop him because boy did you try, was much more profound than that of the pain you felt when he was just gone. There was more hope for him to return that way than not moving on at all. 

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

Somehow, by doing so and accepting the truth, the universe reset that night. 

You woke up and Steve wasn’t there.

For having lived the same day on repeat for at least 3 weeks time, you knew with absolute certainty that he was gonna be there. 

These people you’d been living were practically programmed with a script so there was surely no way anything could change unless…

“Hey (y/n) glad to see you are awake. We have some good news.” 

At that moment Sam popped his head in from the hallway and you couldn’t keep a smile at bay. 

It was finally a new day.

The man gave you a confused look, but was happy nonetheless to see you. 

“Wow, you seem pretty chipper for someone who has been through a lot in the past few hours. You good?” Sam came to your bedside and gave you a blueberry muffin wrapped in a thin napkin. It was hard to come by muffins in the compound, let alone breakfast at all, and you felt a ping of joy when you noticed that Sam remembered your favorite snack. He’d always have your back whether it was a muffin or a bullet. 

“It’s nothing. I am just happy that today is a new day and I can start with a clean slate.” Taking a bite into the muffin, you relished in the fresh and spongy cake while your conscience scolded you for not indulging in these during your everlasting day from hell. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten to you, but I am loving the cringe-worthy optimism. Speaking of which, I have something to add to that.” You ignored the subtle dig at your newfound look on life and rather keened in on the last half of his words. 

“Did you-” Tears started to brim your eyes. Happy ones. Soon your muffin was long forgotten as you threw off the covers and stood from the bed. Sam was quick to stand as well, steadying you when your sheets got tangled at your feet and you spun a bit. 

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

There he was. 

Your Steve was standing before you with a look of adoration on his face while his arms were wide open, beckoning you to him. 

“How?” A gasp of question fell from your lips and at this point you were sure your body and mind were gonna explode from this extra case of surprise, as if you hadn’t been through enough of that. It was astronomical that you could even feel that emotion at this point. 

“Scott discovered that we somehow ripped time?” You furrowed your brows and Steve continued on. “ When you all sent me back to return, I guess it was a bit miscalculated.” 

So it wasn’t all a dream? Could it really be that you had lived the same day on repeat? It was like someone had accidentally hit the repeat button for a song one too many times, but instead of a song, it was your life?

“Now I am not good with all the technical things, but apparently it stopped time in a way. Dr. Banner even said that it could have caused for some to experience some type of repetitive time abnormality!” Steve chuckled, not understanding a single word that he was saying to you. It was like a foreign language to him. He blamed it on being from a time where technology barely existed, but you and the rest of the team were quick to reassure him that it was confusing for all. 

“Oh, if only you all knew.” Wrapping your arms around Steve’s slim waist, you nestled your face into his chest, inhaling his cologne and embracing his warmth. Steve placed his lips on the crown on your head and you two stayed that way for an eternity,

One day maybe you’d tell them the story, but for now you were gonna relish in the time you had with Steve. If you had learned anything from your experience, it was that time was a tricky thing and that you shouldn’t hold a grudge as life did on you for that day. You will never make any progress if you do. Live in the moment and roll with the punches life throws in your direction. 

taglist: @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight @patzammit @iwik3it

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Just Another Regular Day At The Avenger Tower - The Avengers

Title: Just Another Regular Day At The Avenger Tower

Steve Rogers X Loki Odinson, Bucky Barnes X Sam Wilson

Additional Characters: Steve, Tony, Peter, Natasha, Wanda (Mentioned), Loki, Thor (Mentioned), Sam, Bucky, and Bruce.

WC: 1,358

Warnings: Crackfic, in Steve's POV, mentions broken bones, fighting, sparring, teasing, yelling, and slight angst.

Steve woke up with a huge yawn, stretching his arms into the air. Letting out a sigh of relief, he looked out his window, the beautiful sun already in the sky. Birds were singing, and that made him smile. But, that wasn’t the only bird in the sky, catching Sam flying gracefully in the air. And a Bucky clutching onto Sam’s arms, screaming for mercy. He could even hear his screams clearly through the thick glass. Steve couldn’t help but laugh, imagining Sam as an eagle and Bucky was his unknowing prey.

Steve sighed once more and got up from bed, getting dressed for the day. Pulling on his shirt, he realized it was more of a tight fit. Tony and his darn washing machine. Steve didn’t mind though, but he’d talk to Tony later about it. Going to his bathroom, Steve went and started brushing his teeth, closing his eyes and leaning down to spit out the foam. Looking up, he staggered back. His reflection was not doing what he was doing.

Toothbrush pausing in his mouth, Steve looked around. His bathroom looked like it usually did. Plain white walls, floors, toilet, tub, sink, and his unicorn pooping rainbows shower curtain that he got from Natasha last christmas. Looking back at his mirror, Steve watched as he slowly began to brush his teeth again, his reflection instead brushing his hair. Steve narrowed his eyes at the mirror and continued his daily routine. 

Steve was about to leave his room when his phone began to ring. The Star Spangled Banner played so loudly, he covered his ears. Picking up his phone, he sadly was forced to get by Tony, he answered it.

“Hallo?” Steve asked, with a small wince.

“Steve, I need your help, immediately!” Tony exclaimed, voice desperate. 

Steve’s eyes widened and he raked a hand through his hair.

“What… What’s wrong!? Who do we have to fight?” Steve asked, looking around for his armor and shield.

“No, no one is attacking anything today.” Tony spoke up, and Steve sighed in relief but then got really confused.

“Then what is so important that you had to call me?” Steve asked, frustrated.

There was a bit of sniffling on the other line before Tony spoke up. “I don’t have enough money for chicken nuggets.”

Steve was silent on the phone for a bit. “Tony, you’re rich, you have money.”

Steve then finally hung up, finally leaving his room for the day. Stepping out and entering the main room, most of the Avengers were already there. Natasha looked up and over the couch, giving the Captain a smile.

“Good morning, Steve.” She greeted, which Steve returned.

“Good morning, Nat.”

Steve went into the kitchen, preparing a bagel with cream cheese. Coming out, he snacked on his breakfast, sitting down next to Loki, who was peacefully reading a book. Suddenly, Peter came bursting in with his Spidey suit on, wailing his arms in the sky abruptly stopping in the room, all eyes on him. They stared at Peter confused, as he had swim goggles over his spiderman masks eyes, which looked very odd.

“It’s Wednesday, my dudes!” He spoke in a funny voice before screaming and running back out.

Steve continued to stay the way Peter left, confused, before turning to Loki, who shrugged, going back to his book.

“Hey, Loki? Do you happen to know why my mirror has been acting up?” Steve asked the god, who shrugged once more.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Steve.” Loki spoke, eyes not leaving the book pages.

Tony popped out from the adjoining room, wearing a white button-up shirt, dark green slim pants, wool cashmere jacket, combat boots, and a pink camo fanny pack. Supermaning his shirt, arc reactor glowing, he began to do a little dance. Getting down low and twerking he even began to sing.

“Why you always lying? Why you always lying? Dude, oh my god, stop f-ing lying!” He finished, before skipping into the kitchen.

Steve stared at the kitchen entrance, even more so confused on Tony’s behavior. Was he drunk? Turning back around, Steve tried to ignore Tony’s weird ramblings. Wanda then turned on the TV, putting on the national geographic. The team sat around, watching together, and sooner or later, other members arrived and joined too. As the screen panned over on a bunch of flamingos, Sam smiled and pointed at the screen with such joy. 

“Look at all of those chickens!” He shouted with glee. 

Tony looked over at Sam with a glare. Pointing to the screen which still had the flamingos.

“Those are flamingos, birdbrain.” Tony remarked, causing Bucky besides Sam to growl like the alpha he is.

Sam shut his eyes, pouting, and crossed his arms.

“I think I know more about chickens than you do, genius.” Sam rebuked, but Tony rolled his eyes, turning back to the documentary.

Soon enough, their show was over and everyone got on with their day. Steve stretched and stood up from his seat on the couch. Wrapping his arm around Steve, Bucky pulled him into his side, before giving his head a noogie. Steve nudged Bucky in the side with his elbow teasingly.

$ $ $

“Steve, bro, do you want to watch me and Loki train? You can cheer me on.” Bucky asked, joking. 

Steve laughed and nodded but Loki scoffed and rolled his eyes. Standing up and teleporting his book away. He pointed towards Bucky.

“He’s going to be cheering me on, Barnes.” He spoke, glaring.

Bucky gave him a smirk, arm still around Steve’s shoulders.

“Oh, are you so sure of that?” He asked and Loki growled, getting closer to the sergeant.

Sam stepped in, pushing the two apart, with a laugh. “Girls, girls, you’re both pretty, can I go home now?”

Bucky tilted his head to the side, confused.

“You live here, Sammy.” 

Sam just shrugged and the four headed to the training room.

Loki stood on the training mat with Bucky. Bucky was in a fighting stance as Loki stood nonchalantly.

“No powers now.” Sam reminded the god, who nodded.

As they fought, Bucky was getting annoyed, every time he threw a punch, Loki would just lean away, as if he predicted his exact movements. Bucky stepped back, arms out, very frustrated that he couldn’t land a hit on the god.

“You can’t even hit me…” Loki chuckled, Bucky was fuming.

“What the fudge is up, Loki!? No, what did you say!? What the fudge, dude!? Step the fudge up, Loki!” Bucky yelled, trying to fight him again, but to no avail. 

Steve looked at them, concerned really. His boyfriend and best friend are fighting. Well, it was more Bucky swinging and amissing while Loki stands and watches. After a good twenty minutes, Bucky gave up, shouting frustratedly into the air, and hopping off the mat, planking right into Sam’s supportive arms. 

“Country boy, I love you, AYYAHH!” Sam proclaimed, lifting Bucky in the air as he cried.

Steve turned to Loki who was floating in the air, legs folded, reading a book, nonchalantly. Steve was about to ask him what’s up, but Loki slowly began to float away, whipping his thumb on his tongue and flipping the page. Steve stared as Loki slowly floated out the door. 

Heading upstairs, back to the main room, Steve walked into another one of Tony and Bruce’s fights. 

“I’m just saying that you should work on my suit!” Tony exclaimed and Bruce shook his head.

“It’s your suit, Tony. You work on it. Why do you even want me to work on it?” Bruce spoke, getting frustrated, adjusting his glasses.

“Well, on the last mission, I broke my elbow.” Tony spoke, as if it was common knowledge, which it was.

“I don’t care that you broke your elbow.” Bruce spoke before huffing and leaving the room altogether.

Steve slowly walked out of the room, back to his. Shutting and locking the door, Steve hopped on his bed and wrapped the blanket around himself. Trying to go back to sleep and get away from his real-life nightmare.

[tthankstoyou]

hi ana!!! i also appreciate the quinncedes content a LOT! been thinking about them lately.... do u have any quinncedes thoughts you'd like to share

Hi hello yes I sure do have some thoughts I’d like to share... and you will get those thoughts in the form of a one-shot 👀

Either read it under the cut or here on ao3

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

“Hey Mercedes, it’s Quinn. I know that we haven’t talked in a while, but I just took a listen to your new album and wanted to congratulate you. You never fail to amaze me. Call me back when you get the chance, my number’s the same from high school.”

Quinn ended the voicemail and put her phone down. She wasn’t kidding when she said that she just took a listen; the album ended just a few minutes before she picked up the phone. Looking back, Quinn should have waited a little longer. She should have put her thoughts together better. She had so much more to say about Mercedes’s music.

You never fail to amaze me.

She doesn’t know why she said just that, it was like nothing else could come out of her mouth. But it is true, Mercedes always took her breath away. Quinn should’ve said something more. She had so many thoughts about her friend's music. This is what happens when she doesn’t think.

Quinn spent the next hour running over possible conversations in her head. This, now this was something that Quinn was good at. She was good at planning and making sure that everything was perfect. Sure, things may not always work out how she wants them to, but she's good at planning nonetheless. It was something that Mercedes once said she liked about Quinn; how she always prepared little speeches in her mind. Mercedes said that she should work in politics because of that, Quinn wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.

Of course there were times where things went to shit and she had no idea what to do. That’s when Quinn was at her worst. Like when she slapped Rachel after she lost prom queen. None of that was planned. I mean, who would plan to slap someone in the bathroom during prom. The worst part of that night, was that when she was running from the stage out of humiliation, she thought Mercedes would follow her.

She didn’t.

That’s when Quinn knew that things were over between them. Mercedes was doing whatever with Sam, and Quinn was alone. Technically she had Finn, but she didn’t care about him. It sounds heartless, but it’s true. Quinn wanted to be prom queen, and she needed Finn to help obtain that title. Finn was just in her life to win a crown.

When she was with Finn all that she could think about was Mercedes. She couldn’t help it. The other girl was always running through Quinn’s mind. It’s silly to think about, considering how they were never really an item.

They never kissed. They never confessed their feelings to each other. They were never anything more than friends.

The unsaid hung over them like a cloud. You don’t have to tell the other person you love them for them to know how they feel.

Neither of them could deny how their heart raced when they held hands. It was something special between them. They understood each other. To this day, Quinn has never met anyone that could read her mind like how Mercedes has. And the same goes for her, Quinn had Mercedes memorized. After living with Mercedes, she learned her little quirks. Like how she’d hold her hands in front of herself when she was nervous, or her little eyebrow raise when someone was annoying her. To Quinn, Mercedes was like a poem waiting to be dissected. She wanted to study the girl and learn everything about her.

That’s why when Quinn first heard about Mercedes’s new album, she rushed to pre order it. If she asked Mercedes would probably give her a copy for free, but they haven’t talked in five years. Plus Quinn would rather help her sales.

Quinn wasn’t expecting to get a sudden urge to call Mercedes, it just kind of happened. The last track on her album ended, and the next thing she knew, she was dialing Mercedes’s number.

She was hoping that listening to this album would give her some sort of closure. Quinn would listen to it and feel at ease knowing that Mercedes is on her way to becoming a star she was born to be. That was her plan. Everything changed once the song closing song came on.

The song might have been about anyone, but it reminded Quinn of what they had. Mercedes was a permanent part of Quinn, something that she couldn’t just forget about, like a tattoo. Quinn had been convinced that Mercedes hadn’t felt the same about her anymore. She thought that Mercedes must have moved on. She had so many men and women that would do anything to date her. Quinn thought that there was no way that Mercedes was stuck thinking about her like how Quinn was stuck thinking about Mercedes, but these lyrics showed that she was very wrong.

Thinking about you as I lay my head on my pillow Transported back in time To when you put your head on my chest And mumbled in your sleep, “I wish you were mine”

Quinn was pretty sure this was about her. It reminded her of the times that she would go to Mercedes’s house after school. They would lay on her bed together, with Quinn often ending up resting her head on Mercedes’s chest as they cuddled. Of course the cuddling became even more of a regular occurrence when Quinn moved into her house. She had trouble sleeping at night, it was hard finding a comfortable position to sleep while pregnant. Mercedes would always let her lay with her. She sang Quinn to sleep while running a finger up and down her arm. Mercedes did tell her that she talked in her sleep, she said that she found it adorable.

All is well as long as you’re here Given me something to hold onto when all else failed And all I can think about is how I wish you were mine

It could easily be just a coincidence or Quinn relating her life to things that have nothing to do with her, but she couldn’t help but think about freshman year. When Quinn saw Mercedes struggling in the Cheerios. She wanted Mercedes to be stronger than she was and not give into Sue’s disgusting weight loss tactics. If she had it her way, she would have gotten Mercedes to quit the Cheerios right then and there. She knew that Mercedes was too good for them. When Quinn first joined Glee Club, she just had a hunch that Mercedes would go onto great things. To be honest, Quinn thought Sue’s torment was holding Mercedes back. She may or may not have celebrated when Mercedes told her that she quit the Cheerios. And look at her now, showing the world the star that she is. Just what Quinn knew she was capable of.

Despite everything We were strong together I wish you could’ve been mine I wish you were mine

Everything that Mercedes was singing about was just too familiar. Quinn couldn’t help but relate it to their… thing. But she didn’t want to have her thoughts consumed by that.

She shouldn’t be so fixated on a silly little crush she had in highschool. That was years ago, Quinn was a different person now. Quinn didn’t even know if Mercedes would like the woman she’s become. She was so different from the person she was back in Lima, Ohio. Quinn could barely recognize that girl.

All of those thoughts flew out of the window when she heard her phone ring. The number flashing on her screen had a Los Angeles area code… which could only mean one thing, Mercedes was calling her back. Quinn quickly answered the phone and melted into the voice on the other end of the call.

“Hey Quinn, sorry I didn’t answer your call. I’m glad you like the album.”

“I’d say ‘like’ is an understatement”

“I’m in New York right now visiting Kurt and your call got me thinking. How would you feel if I met you for dinner? I can take the train down to New Haven this weekend. That way we can get a chance to catch up… I miss you,” Mercedes said.

“I miss you, too. So much.”

“I’m in a rush and I have to get going, but I can’t wait to see you. I’ll text you later tonight. Bye Quinn.”

“Bye ‘Cedes,” Quinn said before Mercedes ended the call.

“I love you,” Quinn whispered into the phone after Mercedes hung up.

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.8)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Eight) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 2,487 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior, drug use Author’s Note:  **More mentions of Tony doing cocaine and with RDJ’s past, that may be offensive to some! Head’s up! You have been warned**

Part Seven || Part Nine || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Three months ago (cont.)…

Tony was fidgeting in the seat next to you and you stayed silent, knowing he was riled up and giving him any type of poke was going to set him off again. Granted, you really did not have to do anything yourself to set him off; he was good enough at doing that himself.

His gaze fell on you beside him and he gestured fiercely at Mikhail driving in the front seat. “See? This is how you get faded and take a joy ride! Speaking of which.”

He pulled a baggy out of his pocket and muttered under his breath angrily. “So fucking stupid, Y/N.” He took a pinch out of the bag. “Don’t be a fucking idiot. Don’t get your rocks off and then fucking…” he inhaled the small bump and leaned back, stuffing the closed baggy back in his pocket. It took a few minutes for him to say, “Fucking take a car that I paid for. And then try to kill yourself!”

Angrily, you responded, “I didn’t try to kill myself! I was going to my friend’s! I just wanted to be away from you being a dick for a while!”

Tony pinned you up against the seat, his fingers digging in. “You are reckless! You drive me fucking insane sometimes! You are going to be on a very short leash, you understand me? And me being a dick? Because I told you no? You know, I am right telling you that! You can’t even conduct yourself well at home under supervision. What would you do if I wasn’t there to watch out for you? Huh?”

You tried to look away from him and his hand left your chest and came up to force you to look back at him. “You better count yourself lucky that there are people over cause that means I’m not gonna spank you just yet. When we get back, you’re going to walk that ass of yours out to the pool and sit right where I can see you. You got me?” You took more than a few seconds to answer, and he demanded again, “I said you got me?”

“Yes,” you forced out.

He let you go roughly and sat back against his seat, still glaring daggers through you. You turned your eyes away and you still felt him staring at you for a few moments before he shifted, and you saw out of the corner of your eye that he had pulled his phone out. Tony busied himself on his phone the rest of the way home and you sat with your arms crossed, staring out the window.

“Pull up out front, we’ll get out there and then you can go down into the garage,” Tony told Mikhail as he pulled into the driveway.

When you got out of the car out front of the house, Tony was at your side, holding on tight. Like he did not expect you to follow what he had ordered you to do. The music was still playing outside, and you heard chatter; the party was still going in the two of your absence.

Coming through the living room, the two of you met Happy coming back from what you assumed was the bathroom.

Happy looked relieved to see you. “Oh, so you found her.”

“Unfortunately,” you snapped at him, yanking your arm away from Tony, just wanting to walk on your own.

He was quick though and grabbed you back, turning and pushing you up against the wall, holding you in place with a hand on your chest, his other finger pointing in your face.

“You are being a fucking brat! Cut the shit! Shape the hell up. I won’t have you embarrassing me out there! I know you can act better!”

Tony let you go and gestured for you to walk on. You sucked your teeth and went forward, shooting a look at Happy who was watching you closely. He looked as unimpressed as Tony was. Tony was at your back as you walked outside, and you went straight for the alcohol.

“Yeah, good idea. More alcohol. But you know, maybe it’ll chill you the hell out,” he said quietly, annoyed to you. He took the bottle from you and poured the shots for you. Picking it up, he shoved one into your hand and took the other for himself. Clinking your shot glasses, he downed it, you following his lead.

His hand snaked around your hips and he gave you a push to start walking. You did not miss some of his men at the table watching the pair of you approach. He gave you a forceful shove to sit in one of the chairs at the poker table and you fell back into it. Hands gripping the arms, you did your best to not clench your jaw as he sat down next to you. Tony knew you would be embarrassed to be out here – no doubt everyone knowing something had to have happened if Tony and you both left, even if they were not privy to the details – and that was the form of punishment he was choosing for now. Everyone knowing that you had done something to piss him off and now you were being forced to sit there and be obedient.

<><><>

Later that same night…

“I still can’t believe she pulled that shit,” Tony spat, rubbing at his mouth furiously.

Him, Mikhail, and Happy were sitting around the fire pit. The party had long since died down and it was just the three of them outside in the dark, still having some drinks. Tony had sent Y/N upstairs an hour ago and told her if she opened the bedroom door, F.R.I.D.A.Y. would notify him.

“She’s got a wild streak,” Happy commented, taking a long inhale off his cigar.

“Something I’m simultaneously attracted to and also wanna smack her a good one over,” Tony muttered. He shook his head and sighed, “Fucking scared the shit out of me. The thought of losing her. Especially like that.”

“Get her pregnant. Lock her down,” Mikhail said simply. Happy and Tony stared at him and Mikhail rose an eyebrow. “What? She’ll have to be more cautious and then you don’t have to be worried about her going anywhere. I mean, another tie to you too.”

“C’mon. Tony with a kid?” Happy laughed and then noticed Tony was not sharing in on the laugh. His laugh subsided slowly, smile shrinking. He stared at Tony in disbelief, who was lost in thought. “What? Boss, really?”

Tony shrugged and took a drink. “We’ve been together for almost two years.”

“Tony, you had to go retrieve her after she went drunk driving today,” Happy said slowly.

“She’s not usually that rash. Isolated incident.”

Happy threw his hands out weakly, throwing a desperate look at Mikhail for help. Mikhail shrugged and Happy sighed sharply. He straightened up in his chair, “So if she’s not usually that rash, why the talk of a kid? Look, has this ever come up in conversation? Does she even want a kid? I mean, not to be completely rude, but do we think we can trust her to raise one?”

“I want a kid. At least one,” Tony said at the same time that Mikahil spoke.

“She won’t have to raise it by herself. That’s what nannies are for. Give the parents a break,” Mikhail chimed in and Happy set his jaw, looking like he wanted to sock him.

Tony nodded slowly, taking that in.

Mikhail continued, “Women think they don’t want it but if you get them pregnant, the hormones just take over. And they’re immediately momma bear.”

“I don’t think that’s exactly how it works,” Tony said cocking his head, giving Mikhail an odd look. “But I get your overall point. Just… give her some responsibility. Focus on her projects and a baby. Refocus her energy.”

Happy could see the wheels turning and he knew that when Tony set his mind to something, there was very little that could dissuade him from that path.

“Well, she’s already not on birth control,” Tony said, taking another drink.

“Are you joking?” Happy asked.

“She got the IUD taken out a couple months ago. Just been using condoms… most of the time,” Tony replied, smacking his lips. “She didn’t want to get another one. An IUD. Talked about pills. But never followed up on it…”

Happy blew a raspberry and shrugged, “Well… that’s fortuitous I suppose.”

“Yeah… seems like it,” Tony said, staring off into nothing.

<><><>

“So, I overheard something…” Happy said, trailing off.

“What?” Tony questioned, leaning back in his chair.

“I think you and the missus need to have a little chat. Just to nip something in the bud,” Happy said, tapping his fingers on the desk.

Tony had just hung up with a business partner and Happy was sitting across the desk from him. The meeting had been relatively short, about twenty minutes. Happy did not waste time to bring the conversation he had overheard between Pepper and Y/N to Tony. Especially since the meeting had gone well, he would be in a better mood to hear it.

“I only caught the end of the conversation but sounded like she’s trying to figure out how to… get rid of the baby.”

Tony was silent, staring across the desk at Happy. His expression was unreadable. When he did speak though, it was not a secret he was pissed.

“Who the hellwas she talking to?”

Happy sucked his teeth and admitted, “Pepper.”

“Pepper?”

“Yes.”

Leaning forward quickly, Tony slammed his finger on the call button for her office. “Pepper!” Tony barked into the intercom on his phone.

“Yes?”

“Can you come to my office for a second.” It was not a question. It took her a few since her office was down the hall but Pepper walked into the office, standing by the door, and Tony gestured at her saying, “Closed.” She closed the door behind her and turned back to him, looking curious.

“You got anything to tell me?” Tony asked. She stared at him dumbly, shooting a look at Happy. He was returning a blank stare. Tony gestured impatiently. “Here, I’ll help. About my wife.”

Pepper shot Happy another look and he was returning a hard stare now. She surmised that he knew that Y/N had talked to her – had overheard it – and she had no opportunity to lie here.

She shrugged, “About her talking to me?”

“Mhmm,” Tony nodded, his gaze burning into her.

“She wanted me to talk to you. She thinks you’d listen to me.”

“About?”

“Not having a baby,” Pepper said plainly. Tony’s mouth fell open in anger hearing it confirmed and she said quickly, “I don’t know why she thinks you would listen to me. But I told her that’s a conversation she should be having with you, not me.”

It took Tony a few moments to gather himself before he spat, “Does she have a plan?”

“Not that I know.”

“What else did she say?” Pepper bit her bottom lip, silent. Tony demanded, “What else did she say, Pepper?”

Shrugging, Pepper treaded carefully, “She’s worried you’re gonna divorce her after ‘her body gets completely destroyed’ and then she’s ‘just gonna be stuck with a baby that she has no idea what to do with’.” She noticed the baffled looks on both Tony and Happy’s faces and sighed. “I’m assuming you didn’t hear the entire conversation,” Pepper directed at Happy. His expression said everything, and she sighed heavily again, looking back at Tony. “She is extremely insecure Tony. I don’t get it. It’s actually a little alarming. Do you get off on that?”

“No, Pepper, I don’t ‘get off’ on that,” Tony said tightly, looking offended.

Pepper closed her mouth, recognizing the anger on his face. After a few moments, she stated, “She’s scared, Tony.”

Tony was silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, pique still evident in his expression. He cleared his throat, shrugging, “Sounds like it. Anyway, I wish you would have brought this to me unprompted.”

“Tony, that conversation just happened like a half hour ago,” Pepper told him slowly.

“And you didn’t come to me immediately?”

Unamused, Pepper said, “No. I figured if she was serious she would talk to you like I told her she should. And she told me she was going to. She hasn’t had much opportunity to do so though since then and now.”

Tony snorted, “Y/N is not one for mature conversations most of the time anyway. She’s got a flair for the dramatics and gets in these moods, has outbursts. Trust me. She’s a goddamn handful. I mean, you know! The running off and starting fights.” Pepper was staring at him incredulously and he noticed. He rose a brow in return, “What?”

“Nothing,” she said flatly.

“Hmm. Well..” he exhaled deeply, smacking his lips. “Looks like I’ll just have to have a chat. Thank you for being honest, Pepper. Even if it was forced. You’re a doll.”

“Yeah.”

She turned away from him and began walking towards the door. Pepper stopped her stride and exhaled sharply before turning back around to face Tony. “You know, Tony, maybe it would serve you well to listen to her.” Tony stared at her reproachfully in return and she added forcibly, “Seriously. She sounded worried.”

“You don’t think I listen to her? What do you think I do every day, Pepper? I might miss some things admittedly because it’s very hard to keep up with her. Sometimes it changes every hour. The only things she seems to be sure on are: cuddling with me whenever possible and her charity work.”

Pepper ended with, “Well, I don’t think her ‘outbursts’ come from nowhere.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out.

Tony’s gaze slid to Happy, the two of them locking eyes, put off by her attitude.

“What… the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know, boss,” Happy admitted.

“Fucking women…” Tony trailed off, looking lost in thought. He then asked curiously, leaning forward towards Happy, “Do you think I don’t listen?” Happy gave him a knowing look and Tony snorted, waving it off. “That’s what I thought. If anything, it’s Y/N that doesn’t listen to me. Well, I am not having any more unpleasant conversations on an empty stomach.” He leaned back across his desk towards his phone again. Clicking the button to his secretary, he said, “Angelica, tell Y/N I’ll be out in a second to go to lunch.”

“She’s not out here, Mr. Stark. But—”

“What?” Tony demanded.

“She’s not—”

“I caught that,” Tony interrupted irritated.

“But I can page downstairs. She went down there with Mr. Rogers.”

“Why the fuck is Star Spangled here?” Tony grated, shoving himself away from his desk. “And why is he taking her all over the building?”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21, @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @kvzctam @farihafangirls, @teenageregression @mrsnegan25 @lilacs-lavender @agustdowney @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @emmariexx

[vanillann]

five star conversation (r.p)

a/n: i’m going to cry, i can’t believe this is the last part of my favorite mini series:(

word count:

5 star conversation masterlist

place four: a 1 star gig

Flynn was always on top of things, she always was, but when she wasn’t you didn’t want to be lodged on a tour bus with her. She had already tried to throw her phone out the window, thank God Alex was looking for his hat and he caught it.

“They canceled our reservation! That must be illegal!”

I curled closer to Julie on her bed, letting my head rest on her shoulder every time Flynn let out a line of words. Reggie had a small panic attack with the yelling and Flynn tried to apologize but he didn’t blame, he was just as mad. So now the boy walked around the gas station we had stopped at and Julie and I let Flynn rant to us, she deserved it.

“Maybe another venue will host us,” Julie spoke up when Flynn didn’t yell again, her feet had finally stopped leaving marks in the carpet from pacing.

“I’ve already called two and they said their full, which had to be a lie, and plus how do we get the word out to the fans!” Flynn reached down and grabbed my knee, looking at me with sad eyes.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, waving it in the air while I sat up.

“I can always do a live and explain everything, why don’t you get some air,” I rubbed her shoulder, hoping she would take my advice, She had always given Reggie and Alex a heart attack and maybe going to the little nature walk across the street would be good, she could throw some rocks at some trees.

“I’ll get some air, yeah okay.”

She hurried off the bus, most likely to throw or kick rocks around the parking lot as Flynn never liked nature trails, it was nice to dream. If she dented this bus, we’ll be in debt.

“I can’t believe the venue canceled, it was our last gig on tour too!” Julie stood, looking down as I laid on her bunk and played with my phone in between my fingers.

I didn’t have to heart to tell the fans that we didn’t have a venue, that we wouldn’t have a final gig that was supposed to help release the new album coming out in five months.

It might have seemed small, we were blessed we even had this opportunity but it doesn’t change the fact that the one we're most excited for now was not happening.

“I’m going to find the boys, you coming?”

I closed my eyes, the boys. Everything they worked for was now becoming a nightmare, their idea of the perfect tour was ruined with falling through plans and missed opportunities.

“No, I need to go live and get the word out anyways,” I brushed off Julie, I didn’t have the heart to look any of them in the eye and tell them. To break their heart like everyone else in their life has, I just couldn’t do it. Julie waved behind her, I waited until the bus door shut before I let my head rollback.

I looked up at the bunk above me, Flynn’s, and let my mind wander over the past few months. They were perfect. Watching the fan scream their name for hours and they showed them in their element. The pictures that have been taken, many saved in my phone of the people I would always turn to. The edits that have been made have made me laugh harder than I imagined. Before this tour, nobody knew me, not that I ever cared, but I was behind the scenes. Now, the fans want me on the stage even if I don’t contribute to the music.

The music, the music had been show-stopping. Luke has been through four journals the past few months, writing back fast food drive in’s and doing stupid things with friends, that how the new album was coming out so fast. They were all so excited, Reggie was so excited to have one of his own songs featured as a single.

Reggie.

I let my hand run over my face, feeling the embarrassment from the incident at the fair. Watching his face move closer to mine, like a slow-motion picture and then ripped away when it was ripped in half. I took a minute and tried turning it into a moment, but it was never our moment. All the giggles and inside jokes hurt my chest and I thought back to the more recent time of the tour.

The motel, the way the light shines across his face and we wondered would the world cave in around. The feeling of his hand gripping my shirt because he always felt he had to be touching someone, he said it reminds him not to act so dead.

The diner when he gave me sweet little comments and took my fork from my lips. When we laughed about food poisoning and wondered would we ever be the same people after he played with my finger from across the table.

The fair where I gave him his first horse, then named it after an artist I introduced to him too. The way the wind passed his hair like he was made to run away from the world that had disappointed him more than once.

Every one-star establishment that made me believe could kiss my butt because now we had nothing. I didn’t need any more one-star buildings and places in my life. They’re just cheap and used for people who have no other options.

I sat up quickly, so quickly my head hit Flynn bunk.

No other options and cheap, exactly what someone in our situation could use right now. I let my phone spin between my fingers, unlocking it quickly before finding my search bar. We sat in the center of California, there had to be a one-star building somewhere near, one that we could turn into a dive bar or something. I smiled when a cheap bar popped up first, the area large enough to hold people and a small stage the band could work with.

Larry’s Bar was suddenly open for business. I dialed the number quickly, praying for the first time in a week something would go my way.

“L-larry’s Bar,” the woman sounded out of breath but I couldn’t care.

“Can we rent out your bar for a band?”

“Huh?”

“We need a venue for a band performance,” I realized why Flynn handled this and not me, this was out of my comfort zone.

“Are you sure you have-”

“Incredibly sure, yes or no?”

The line went silent, for a minute I thought she hung up on me and I considered crying with Reggie’s stuffed horse for a minute.

“The bar’s yours,” the lady's voice sounds light suddenly like we finally both got some good news. She definitely made my week without knowing.

“We’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” I didn’t wait for a response, rushing out of the tour bus to find someone. When I spotted everyone leaning against an ice machine outside the gas station with sad faces, my legs couldn’t stop me from rushing. I was happy Fylnn already kicked all the rock because otherwise, I would have felt.

“Guys!”

“Hey,” Alex's voice was sad and sincere, about to place a hand on my shoulder but I was bouncing on my toes.

“Whip off your sad faces, I got us a gig!”

*

“Just got off live, the fans are going to spread the information,” I yelled throughout the bar, and Luke and Jessie, the lady from the phone, moved the last few tables around the bar to make more room. Reggie and Alex did a quick soundcheck, we were currently renting amps and such from across the street since the owner's daughter was apparently a “Luke Girl”.

“Thank God, I would hope we don’t do all this work for nobody to show up” Alex called back as he did the classic comedy drum sound, giving a smile as he grabbed the extra drumstick from his back pocket.

I rolled my eyes, hopping off the stage to the small table at the door for Flynn and me to sit at for tickets and shirts, CD including, and a special code for the single Reggie was presenting tonight.

Luke and he had been fighting over it for ten minutes because Reggie changed the one he wanted to release last minute, it must have been good if Luke was letting him get away with it.

“I can’t believe you pulled this off,” Flynn sat in her seat with her arms crossed, people would be arriving as soon as possible and we were prepared for anything.

“What can I say,” I smiled brightly, taking the seat beside her.

“What made you think of this?”

I wanted to say, Reggie, that he almost always somehow inspired my best ideas but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Almost everyone knew of the almost kiss and how awkward things have been between us, so awkward I couldn’t say his name.

“Just about what happened at the motel, how we had to make it work.”

It wasn't a lie, that was for sure.

“Well, you saved the tour,” Flynn leaned over and squeezed my shoulders, her bucket hat titled as it smashed against my face. I hugged her back, smiling into her shoulder, I saved the tour.

*

The crowd screamed as the band finished off “Bright”, sweat dripping down them as they gave wide gestures.

“Thank you! Now it’s surprise time!” Julie passed the microphone to Luke, who looked so excited for his next set of words.

“The rumors about the new album are true,” he let the mic drop until the screams died down, “and we are here to show one of the singles for the said album that will drop on March 3rd at midnight!”

The crowd went crazy again and I laughed against Flynn, we both decided to stay in our chairs for the performance as we had an amazing view and we didn’t want to push through everyone. I was scared that everyone would see the one-star and turn the other way but every ticket that was bought came.

Reggie smiled as he took the stage, his bass switched for an acoustic, which confused me but I didn’t think much about it, I knew he liked to mess with it sometimes.

“Hi everybody!”

Reggie gave a peace sign to the crowd, the few girls who wore Reggie’s face on their shirt screamed at the top of their lungs.

“This is a song I wrote a few weeks ago on tour called “Five Star conversation.”

I looked over my shoulder at Flynn, her eyes wide as she watched Reggie get situated on his stool in front of the mic.

“What song is this?”

“Uhm, this one?”

All she did was point and I decided to go back and watch him play. I could always ask later, I’d have to make merch with it anyways.

“Dingy bathrooms and motel floors, I’d never wanted you more than right now,” Reggie's voice came out rough as his voice played with the melody just right. His finger-picked at the string and I was shocked by the slow melody. This definitely wasn’t a song I’d heard.

“The city lights across your face, I swear you fell from grace. The world around me seemed to disappear the second you spoke,” that when it happened, the moment he turned his head. He looked in my eye, the words rooting themselves in my chest, tattooed across my heart.

“Our five-star conversations were softer than the pillows beneath me, I wish you could have really seen me.”

I felt myself chew on my bottom lip, feeling my eyes turn to me as his attention never left my face. He was watching me, the same way he had in every other one-star establishment, but this felt different.

“Oh, you wouldn’t know the five-star conversation I had with your soul.” The medley rang out, Julie’s soft humming joined in behind and I wondered how anyone could focus.

How could anyone think straight when someone was looking so adoring under the flashing light of a cheap bar that smelt like feet?

How could I pay attention while he looked at me like I hung the stars in the sky when he hung the moon?

“Crappy food and screaming doors, I wonder if you knew of your own grace!” His word rang back in my eye, like a bug that wouldn’t quite go away, not that I would ever want this to stop.

But it had to stop because I was suddenly the center of attention and I couldn’t handle it. I couldn't know the world more than I did. But I was rooted in place watching the boy I had fallen so hard for a look at me with his puppy eyes and wonder where we would stand after this.

“Don’t let me lose our five-star conversation in a one-star world after all,” he strummed the last bit of the song, I barely processed half the word before I let my legs go. I was walking somewhere, wherever my feet would allow me to go. I was outside, the brick wall of the bar brought me back to reality.

The same reality where I didn’t think boys wrote songs that sweet and they didn’t look at you like that. They didn’t look at you like you spun gold strings and gave them pretty smiles, but he did.

He always did, he always looked at me like I belonged next to him saving tours and making horrible plans. He looked at me like I could be his muse for the rest of his life, of death is more appropriate. He looked at me as if I was more than his because I wasn’t his, I was myself and that’s all he wanted.

He was in love with me, the same person from the motel, the same person for the diner, the same person from the fair.

I was the five-star person in the world star world, I was the extra star he was always looking for.

“(Y/N)!”

As soon as I watched his body slide out the door of the bar, I walked to him. I didn’t realize how far I walked until he started rambling.

“I’m sorry to put you on the spot but I couldn’t stop-”

My hand gripped the thin jacket material, not thinking twice and my lips smashed against his with force. He fell back slightly, his hand grabbing my wrist for a second before he was running them over my shoulder and down to my elbows. He pulled me closer if that was possible, and I let my hand touch over his heart.

The heart that wanted me, Reggie wanted me. There were girls who would wear his face on a shirt and he wanted the person that made those shirts.

I was his five stars, even if I loved him in every one-star and three-star establishment.

I felt myself pull away, our forehead resting on one another and I took a shaky breath.

“I’d give that kiss two stars.”

He smiled down at me, raising his eyebrows and letting his tongue run over the side of his cheek with a smirk.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll make it five stars.”

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