#they broke the exit sign almost every night

[tonythmfb]

I used to think how insane it was that Salem called an entire staff meeting about Sydney, who is doing his job fine and just could maybe use some emotional support, while there is an entire counselor, by the name of Soren Baltimore, that is actively trying to kill all the campers and staff.

Then I remembered all the times I’ve worked jobs where my coworkers have all turned a blind eye to someone who poses a legitimate safety concern in favor of ceaselessly complaining about someone who does their job fine but is maybe mildly annoying.

[majinael]

"Not my style."

★Michael Kaiser x GN Reader (Angst(?) into fluff)

★TW: mentions of abuse

★937 words

★ can be perceived as OOC, but I believe he would act entirely different towards his childhood friends if he had any

I had known Michael since we were kids. I often found him at the park, playing football like it was the only thing in his world. And maybe it was. His clothes were perpetually worn and dirty, his pale skin marred by small cuts and bruises. When I asked, he’d always brush it off, saying he simply liked that outfit or that the bruises came from playing with his ball and helping his dad at home. I believed him, young and naive as I was. I’d share my snacks with him, and in return, he’d teach me how to play football, his passion shining through every kick and pass.

As the years passed, my parents pulled me into their bakery, one of the most renowned in town. Our paths diverged, but I never forgot him. Sometimes, I’d walk by the park, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But one day, when I did, tears streamed uncontrollably down my face, crashing onto the cold pavement. In my trembling hand was a newspaper announcing his arrest for robbery. Everything clicked then—his shabby clothes, his bruises, the hollow look in his eyes. He wasn’t just a boy who loved football. He was a poor, hungry kid trapped in a home with an abusive father. Football had been his only escape, and I... I had done nothing to help.

I told myself I was too young to understand, too innocent to see the truth. But the guilt clung to me, a heavy shadow that wouldn’t fade.

That night, I dragged myself home, collapsing onto the couch where my dad was watching TV. The world spun around me until a shout broke through my haze.

"GOAL!!"

My eyes shifted to the screen, and for a moment, I could almost see Michael chasing the ball with that same fiery determination. A bittersweet smile crept onto my lips. That’s when I fell in love with football—not just the game, but what it represented. It was Michael’s legacy, the one thing he’d left with me. I started playing in my free time, replaying his words in my mind, letting the sport bridge the distance between us.

Years passed, and I inherited the bakery. Football became my solace, every match rekindling memories of our friendship. Then, one day, my television turned into a magic mirror, revealing the answer to a question I hadn’t dared to ask. What could he be doing ?

Michael was there. On my screen. Playing for Bastard München.

And oh, how he played. Every movement was precise, intense, beautiful. His tall, muscular frame, his cold, striking features, his blond hair tipped with blue—it was as if he had stepped out of a dream, wrapped in the elegance of a blue rose garden. My cheeks ached from smiling, my heart swelling with pride and something deeper I couldn’t name.

When the match ended, I knew one thing: I had to see him.

I wasn’t wealthy, but I scraped together enough to buy a ticket, luck granting me a seat near the front. The stadium’s atmosphere was electric, the roar of the crowd reverberating in my chest. But my eyes were only on him. Michael. That cocky smile of his stirred something in me I hadn’t felt before. And when his gaze briefly met mine, I was overcome—not just with admiration, but with pride.

The match ended far too soon. If you asked me what happened, I couldn’t tell you a thing beyond Michael’s every move. I was captivated, lost in the way he commanded the field.

As the stadium emptied, I lingered, unable to move, clutching a small blue bracelet I’d made for him—a simple token of waxed cords and a metallic rose pendant. I didn’t even notice the signing session at the exit. Even if I had, would I have gone? Fear gripped me. What if he didn’t recognize me? Or worse, what if he did and resented me for my inaction all those years ago?

A presence behind me shattered my thoughts.

“It’s been a while, (Y/N).”

His voice was unmistakable, and my breath hitched. Tears threatened to fall as I turned, finding him standing there, his expression softer than I ever remembered.

Without thinking, I threw my arms around him. For a moment, he froze, but then his arms enveloped me, holding me as if he’d never let go.

“I don’t even know where to start, Micha...” My voice trembled as tears spilled freely.

He pulled back slightly, his cold features melting into an uncharacteristic gentleness. “Let’s not talk about the past,” he said quietly. “Give me your number before I have to leave.”

I handed him my phone, heart racing as he typed in his digits.

“I missed you,” I blurted, unable to stop myself.

His lips curled into a faint smile—a rare, genuine expression of happiness.

“I have something for you,” I said, hesitating before placing the bracelet in his hand. He chuckled softly, inspecting it.

“That’s... adorably not my style,” he teased, “but I’ll keep it.”

My smile faltered. “You don’t have to if you don’t like it—”

“I said I’ll keep it,” he interrupted, his tone firm yet amused. “I’ll find a use for it.”

Before I could say more, he stepped away. “I have to go.”

“Take care, Michael,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

That night, a text lit up my phone: “Care about yourself. Don’t worry about me.” I chuckled, knowing it was impossible.

The next time I saw him on TV, he was wearing the bracelet. My heart swelled as I sent him a message: “Not your style, huh?”

His reply was immediate: “Don’t read into it.”

But I did. And I always would.

[newobsessionweekly]

something old

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Tim Bradford x bestfriend!reader Series: Something old, new, borrowed, blue Fandom: The Rookie Summary: You and Tim have been best friends for years, but your friendship is jeopardised when you caught feelings for him and Tim decided he wants to propose to Lucy.

Angst

A/N: How I LOVE this one. I've been so exited to post it, I really couldn't resist any more. I hope you like it as much as I do. Feel free to give some feedback and if you have any ideas for the next parts, I'm all ears. Thank you so so much for your support, I appreciate every single one of you. Lots of love, bubs! ❤️ Warnings: eating disorder briefly described, getting drunk ? not proofread yet Requested: not really, yes maybe - here Words: 4k

You buried your head into cases, one after another, working overtime and exhausting yourself on purpose. Keeping your mind occupied with work and the treacherous world outside, you didn't have time to think about your own life. And it was for the best. For the past months you watched the man you've been in love with for years fall for someone you've considered your friend. Of course, neither one of them knew about the feelings evolving inside you with every sight of him, but it doesn't make it less painful. And it still keeps you up at night.

Tim has been your best friend since you can remember. You've been there for each other through thick and thin, always finding solace in each other's arms. He's been your shoulder to cry on, the first person to share your happiness with, and the only one who's got your back. Until now. Sitting at your desk, you checked your watch and sighed. It's almost ten pm and the bullpen is just as quiet as a grave. Your grave, plugged up by your own misery. You didn't catch sign of Tim for weeks, the last thing he said to you was a distant 'morning' thrown in a rush as he left for patrol duty with Lucy. It's funny how you imagined that seeing Tim and Lucy on a daily basis at the station would tear you apart, because right now, not seeing Tim for weeks broke you even more. They kept their distance at work, showing only professionalism as their sparkling glances filled with so much love and joy spoke volumes. Laughter slowly broke the silence, the well known voices echoing through the station. You raised your head a little, to take in the sight as you watched Tim and Lucy bantering. But you noticed something was not right, his smile didn't reach his ears as it used to, eyes don't seem filled with emotion and she didn't seem to notice. You knew Tim like the back of your hand. You could sense something's going on between them, but you lowered your head just in time, before your eyes could meet Tim's. Your intention was not to avoid him, not necessarily, but seeing him so late after his shift ended, surely caught you off guard. Just as his hand on your shoulder did.

You raised your head, startled by the unexpected sensation of warmth as his smile grew on his face, genuine you might say. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." he excused himself softly as his eyes searched yours, going back and forth between you and your desk, "What you doing here so late?"

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden closeness, the warmth of Tim's hand on your shoulder seeping into your bones. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe, lost in the depths of his gaze as his eyes searched yours with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"Just... catching up on paperwork." you managed to reply, your voice steady despite the chaos swirling in your mind.

Tim's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of something you couldn't quite decipher passing through his eyes before it was gone, replaced by a mask of sarcasm. "Doing the homework for the whole department, Detective?"

You chuckled softly, the sound feeling forced even to your own ears. "Something like that," you replied, offering him a weak smile in return.

Tim nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he pulls up a chair beside your desk, his expression serious. "Can we talk?" he asks, his voice low and hesitant.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind as you nod, motioning for him to continue. "Of course, Bradford. What's on your mind?"

He hesitates for a moment, his brow furrowing with uncertainty before he finally meets your eyes. "It's about Lucy," he says softly, his voice tinged with nervousness.

His eyes darting away from yours before finally meeting them once more. "I want to propose to Lucy," Tim admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm scared, scared that I'm not good enough for her, scared that I won't be able to protect her."

Your heart clenched at his words, the pain of your unspoken feelings bubbling to the surface once more. But you pushed it aside, forcing a smile onto your face as you reached out to take his hand in yours. "Tim, you're more than good enough for her," you said softly, your voice filled with conviction. "And as for protecting her, well, I think you've proven time and time again that you'd do anything for her."

Tim's eyes searched yours, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in their depths. "But what if something happens to her because of me?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart feels like it's been wrenched from your chest at his words, a dull ache settling in the pit of your stomach. You've known for a while now how deeply Tim cares for Lucy, how much he loves her. And yet, the thought of him spending the rest of his life with her, fills you with a sense of profound loss.

You shook your head, a sense of determination coursing through your veins. "Tim, you can't live your life in fear of what might happen and you can't blame yourself for the dangers of this job," you say, your voice trembling with emotion. "Lucy knows the risks. She chose to be with you, despite them."

His eyes searched yours, a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty shining in their depths. "Thank you, Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the din of the bullpen. "I needed to hear that."

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently before releasing it, a bittersweet ache settling in your chest. "Anytime, Tim. You know I'm always here for you."

You smiled, pushing the pain aside, burying it deep beneath the surface where no one could see. Because in the end, all that mattered was Tim's happiness, even if it meant sacrificing your own.

As Tim stands up from the chair, a playful glint dances in his eyes, and he can't resist teasing you. "You know, Detective, it's past your bedtime. Shouldn't you be tucked in by now?"

You roll your eyes with a laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "Oh please, Bradford, like you're one to talk. Last time I checked, we're both adults capable of burning the midnight oil."

Tim chuckles, his laughter filling the room with warmth. "Touché, Y/L/N," he concedes, his smile genuine. "But someone gotta keep you out of trouble."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a grin at his antics. "Like I need you to keep me out of trouble. I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much. I'm a grown adult who can stay up past bedtime if she wants to," you tease, flashing him a mischievous grin.

Suddenly, Tim's attitude shifts, a concerned expression playing on his face as he leans forward, his voice soft and earnest.

"Seriously, though, Y/N," he says, his tone gentle. "Don't stay up too late, get some sleep. You're no good to anyone if you're running on empty."

You're taken aback by his sudden change in attitude, the warmth of his concern washing over you like a comforting embrace. Despite the playful banter, you can see the genuine worry in his eyes, a reminder of just how much he cares about you, even if he doesn't always show it.

You smile softly, touched by his concern. "Thanks, Tim," you say sincerely, your voice warm with gratitude. "I'll make sure to hit the hay early tonight. Wouldn't want to dethrone you as the grumpiest cop."

Tim's lips quirk up in a small smile at your teasing, a hint of relief flashing in his eyes. "Hey, watch it." he says softly, his voice gentle. "But take care of yourself, okay? Promise me."

You nod, a sense of warmth settling in your chest at his words. "Promise," you reply, meeting his gaze with a reassuring smile. "And you take care of yourself too, Tim. Don't forget to look after your woman."

With a chuckle, Tim nods, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes as he turns to leave your office. "I won't," he promises softly, his voice carrying a warmth that fills the space between you. "Thanks, Y/N. For everything."

The station buzzed with activity around you, the usual hustle and bustle of the station fading into background noise as you sat at your desk, lost in a sea of memories and emotions. You've seen the bullpen and the files of criminals more than you've seen your own bed, the caffeine taking place of your breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Since Tim told you about the proposal, it's been radio silence from him, not a word exchanged between the two of you. The weight of his words hangs over you like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over everything you do.

You glance down at your hands, absently tracing your fingers over Tim's dog tag from Afghanistan. He had offered it to you when he safely returned home from the war, a silent acknowledgment of your friendship and the bond you shared. And now, as you hold it in your hands, it feels like a cruel, constant reminder of everything you had lost and everything you could never have.

The tag feels heavy in your palm, a tangible reminder of the weight of your unspoken feelings for Tim. You close your eyes, willing the memories to fade, but they only come rushing back with even more intensity. Memories of late nights spent talking and laughing, of shared secrets and stolen glances, of a friendship that had once meant everything to you.

You've lost weight in the past weeks, the stress and heartache taking their toll on your body. Dark circles ring your eyes, evidence of sleepless nights spent tossing and turning, haunted by memories of Tim and the friendship you fear may be slipping away.

Angela, your only remaining closest friend and confidante, joins you at your desk, her presence a welcome distraction from the storm raging inside your mind. "How you holding up?" she asks softly, her eyes searching your frame with concern. "I, uh, heard about Tim and Lucy."

"Yeah, no, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile onto your lips as you clear your throat. "I'm really happy for him."

Angela raises an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Liar," she mocks gently. "You don't look fine."

You sigh, the facade slipping for a moment as you meet Angela's gaze. "It's just... been a rough couple of weeks," you admit, the words heavy on your tongue.

"I know, I'm sorry," Angela says sympathetically, reaching out to squeeze your hand in a gesture of support. "You know, I'm here if you need to talk or something. Or drink it away. Whatever suits you," she adds with a chuckle.

You spot Tim across the bullpen, his back turned as he converses with another officer. A surge of emotion wells up inside you, a tangled mess of longing and heartache that threatens to overwhelm you.

"You know what?" you say suddenly, your voice firm despite the tremor in your heart. "I could use a drink." You pause, a plan forming in your mind. "Or maybe ten. But I have to take care of something first."

Angela looks at you, confusion flickering in her eyes as you rise from your desk and make your way towards Tim. "Y/N!" she calls after you, but you ignore her, your mind made up as you steel yourself for the confrontation that lies ahead.

Outside, the sun sets in a blaze of orange and pink, casting long shadows across the pavement as the city begins to quieten down. But for you, the night is just beginning, a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions swirling around you as you prepare to face the man who holds your heart in his hands.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a mixture of uneasiness and determination swirling inside you. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something familiar in his eyes, a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Sergeant Bradford, may I have a word?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you.

Tim turns to face you, his brow furrowing in concern as he takes in your appearance. The other officer excuses himself, sensing the gravity of the situation.

The circles under your eyes and the weariness in your expression send a pang of guilt coursing through him. He's been so consumed with his own turmoil that he failed to notice the toll it was taking on you.

"Everything okay?" Tim asks, his voice soft with concern.

"Yeah, just wanted to talk to you about something," you reply, your voice betraying none of the turmoil raging inside you.

As Tim's concern for your well-being rises, so does his guilt. He knows he's been distant, preoccupied with his own thoughts and emotions. But seeing you like this, so worn down and fragile, hits him harder than he expected. A surge of emotions threatens to overwhelm you, as well, the love you've buried deep down resurfaces, overshadowing the pain and frustration that have consumed you for weeks.

"Hold on a second, Y/N," Tim says, his voice tinged with worry. "When's the last time you slept? Or ate something?"

You feel a surge of anger bubble up inside you, a mask to cover the hurt and vulnerability that threaten to spill over.

"Okay, Bradford. Don't pretend like you care," you snap, your voice sharper than intended. Deep down, you're grateful to know he still cares, but the pain is too raw, too fresh to acknowledge.

"I just thought it's best for you to have this back," you continue, taking his hand and placing the dog tag in his palm. Your voice trembles slightly as you speak, the weight of your words heavy in the air. "You know, for the wedding. Something old. Like... our friendship."

Tim's heart sinks as you push the dog tag into his hand, your words ringing in his ears like a painful echo.

Without giving him a chance to respond, you turn and walk away, leaving Tim speechless and confused in your wake. Deep down, you know you've made the right choice. It's time to let go of the past and move forward, even if it means facing a future without the man you've loved for so long.

He knows he messed up, knows he let you down in ways he can't even begin to comprehend. But as he watches you disappear into the crowd, he's filled with a determination unlike anything he's ever felt before.

He won't let you slip through his fingers, won't let your friendship crumble away to nothing. Whatever it takes, he'll make things right, even if it means facing the painful truth that he's been in love with you all along.

The night air is thick with the scent of alcohol and laughter as you stumble out of the bar, Angela's concerned gaze following your every move. You've had way too much to drink, the alcohol coursing through your veins and clouding your thoughts with a haze of euphoria and pain.

But despite Angela's disapproving glances, you press on, drowning your sorrows in the numbing embrace of alcohol. It's a temporary escape, a fleeting moment of oblivion in a world that seems determined to crush you beneath its weight.

As the night wears on, the alcohol begins to take its toll, your movements growing sluggish and uncoordinated. Your laughter turns to tears, the pain of losing Tim as a friend hitting you with a force you can't begin to comprehend.

And then, just as the world begins to blur around you, Angela's voice cuts through the fog, her words a lifeline in the darkness. "Bradford, get your ass here and clean the mess you've made," she says over the phone, her tone tinged with worry.

Tim's voice responds, filled with concern. "What happened?"

"Y/N's a bit drunk and I can't deal with her by myself," Angela replies, her voice tight with concern.

"Give me five," Tim says, his urgency palpable even over the phone.

As Tim rushes to the bar, his heart pounds in his chest with a mixture of worry and guilt. He can't shake the feeling that he's somehow responsible for the state you're in, that his actions—or lack thereof—have pushed you to this point.

When Tim arrives at the bar, you're a total mess, the alcohol having stripped away all semblance of control. Seeing you like this, vulnerable and hurting, tears at his heartstrings in a way he never expected. He can't help but feel a surge of guilt wash over him, knowing that he's played a part in your pain.

He helps you into his car, his touch gentle yet firm, a rush of conflicting emotions floods through you. His hands are warm against your skin, a stark contrast to the cold reality of the night air.

You feel a pang of sadness as you meet his eyes, clouded with worry and concern. The distance between you feels insurmountable, a chasm widening with each passing moment.

"Come on, Y/N. The party's over. Let's get you home," Tim says softly, his voice filled with concern and they wash over you like a soothing balm, a reminder that even in your darkest moments, he's still there, still willing to help you pick up the pieces.

But you protest, your words slurred and disjointed as you gaze at Angela through heavy-lidded eyes. "Why did you call him?" you mumble, frustration evident in your voice.

He buckles you up, his movements careful and deliberate, a flicker of hope stirs within you. Maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance to salvage what's left of your friendship, to bridge the gap that's grown between you.

Tim exchanges a look with Angela, confusion flickering in his eyes. "Where are her keys?" he asks, his tone serious.

Angela shrugs innocently. "Yeah, that's the problem. She lost her purse. Don't you have a spare key?"

Tim's jaw tightens with frustration. "No. You?"

Angela shakes her head, her expression apologetic. "Obviously not, that's why I called you." she smiles at him playfully, "Good night, Bradford."

As Tim starts the car and pulls away from the curb, the world outside blurs into a hazy kaleidoscope of lights and shadows. You bumble something incoherent through the drive, your words slurred and disjointed as you struggle to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

He helps you out of the car and guides you inside his house, his touch is both gentle and reassuring. Each brush of his hand against yours sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, igniting a fire deep within your soul. You lean on him heavily, your legs wobbly from the alcohol as he guides you inside.

Tim leads you to his bedroom, his movements gentle yet firm. He helps you out of your shoes and jacket, his touch lingering longer than necessary as he tucks you into his bed, tracing invisible patterns along your arm, pulling the covers over you. You can feel the warmth of his touch seeping into your bones, soothing the ache in your heart and calming the storm raging inside you.

"Can I get you anything?" he asks softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. "Do you need anything?"

You mumble something incoherent in response, your words slurred and barely audible. As he sits beside you on the edge of the bed, his touch becomes hesitant, unsure of how to navigate the tangled web of emotions between you. His hand hovers over yours, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he debates whether to reach out or pull away.

"You," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tim's heart skips a beat at your words, a surge of excitement coursing through him as his touch falters, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt. But all he finds is raw honesty, a vulnerability that takes his breath away and leaves him feeling exposed.

He maintains a serious expression, his concern for your well-being overriding any other emotions.

"You're drunk, Y/N," he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. "You don't know what you're talking about."

But you're insistent, stumbling over your words. "I know," you say, your voice tinged with desperation. "I know I love you and I know I need you."

Tim's heart aches at your words, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air between you. But he knows you're not in the right state of mind to have this conversation now.

But you shake your head stubbornly, your words slurred as you try to leave the bed. "I need to go. What would your fiancée say" you insist.

"Take it easy, Y/N," he says gently, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "You need sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

But you plead with him, your eyes searching his for any sign of reassurance. "Please don't go," you whisper, your voice tinged with desperation.

With a sigh, Tim gives in, knowing that arguing with you now would only make things worse. "Fine," he says softly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'll humor you and sleep on the floor."

You pat the empty side of the bed, a small smile playing on your lips. "Here," you say, your voice soft and pleading.

Tim chuckles softly, shaking his head in amusement. "You're so drunk," he murmurs, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you close. "And you're definitely gonna kill me in the morning."

Tim settles into bed beside you, his touch is gentle yet firm, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back. The warmth of his embrace envelops you like a cocoon, comforting and familiar, and you find yourself leaning into him instinctively, seeking solace in his presence.

"But it's definitely worth it," Tim whispers softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that makes your heart swell with love.

His touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burns brighter with each passing moment. It's as if every brush of his fingers against your skin is a promise, a silent reassurance that you're not alone, that he's here for you no matter what.

And as you bury your face against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you into a sense of peace you haven't felt in weeks. In this moment, with Tim's arms wrapped around you, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you alone in the darkness.

But beneath the surface, a storm rages within you, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that threatens to tear you apart. Guilt gnaws at your insides, knowing that you've burdened Tim with your drunken confessions, knowing that you've crossed a line that can never be uncrossed.

His touch is tender yet tentative, as if he's afraid to break the fragile spell that binds you together. He can't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him, knowing that in this moment, nothing else matters except the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms, clinging to the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance for love.

And yet, despite the turmoil raging inside you, there's a sense of rightness in this moment, a feeling that you've finally found your place in the world. In Tim's arms, you feel safe and loved, cherished in a way you never thought possible.

[thef1diary]

Royally Fucked | Five

— Unresolved Tensions

series masterlist

wc: 3.8k

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

─────────── ♛ ───────────

The night air was cool against Juliette’s skin as she and Daniel slipped out of the hotel’s back exit. The dimly lit alley allowed them to escape discreetly. His hand was a firm but gentle guide on her back, steering her toward the waiting car. He had coordinated every detail of their exit with precision, ensuring no eyes were on them. 

Daniel opened the passenger door for her, his gaze scanning their surroundings with a practiced eye. The secondary security team had already cleared the area, and their vehicle was positioned out of sight from the main road. Juliette slid into the car, her heart still racing from the night’s events. The moment Daniel closed the door and circled to the driver’s side, she felt a slight but palpable shift in the air. The tension was thick, but it wasn’t directed solely at her. 

As they securely pulled away from the hotel, his grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles white under the dim glow of the dashboard lights. Daniel’s eyes darted frequently to the rearview mirror, checking for any signs of pursuit. Every turn, every streetlight passed was measured, as if he was piecing together a puzzle in his mind to ensure they remained unseen. 

Despite a security team being prepared and stationed to assist, Daniel made the decision that only he and Juliette would go to a secondary location. The fewer people involved, the less chance of drawing unwanted attention. His decision was firm, rooted in the need to keep her as safe and inconspicuous as possible. Instead, the team would handle Vincent and secure the area, but the immediate priority was getting Juliette out without a trace. 

Juliette sat in silence, her hands clasped in her lap. She could sense the frustration simmering beneath Daniel’s calm exterior. The quiet in the car was thick, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional click of Daniel’s phone as he coordinated their next steps. He had always been attentive, quick with a joke or a reassuring word, but tonight, he was different—colder, more distant.

The silence between them grew heavier with each passing mile. She had slowly but surely started becoming accustomed to the sound of Daniel’s voice, to the comfort it brought in empty silences and tense situations. But now, the absence of his usual warmth was disconcerting.

Unable to bear it any longer, Juliette finally broke the silence. “Daniel…” she began, her voice tentative, almost unsure of itself. She glanced over at him, hoping for a response that would break the icy barrier that had formed between them. 

His eyes remained fixed on the road, his expression unreadable. He didn’t respond, not even with a glance in her direction. The weight of his silence hung in the air, amplifying the tension. 

Juliette tried again, her tone a little firmer this time, though still tinged with uncertainty. “I know I should’ve stayed in the room, but I… I just couldn’t sit still, not after what happened.” 

Daniel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, but he still said nothing, his focus on the road unwavering. His silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the steady flow of conversation they usually shared.

The silence from his end stung, feeling like a punishment and perhaps it was—one she would have to endure until he deemed it necessary to speak again. With him so withdrawn, she felt adrift, unsure of how to navigate the tension between them. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Daniel spoke. “Your Highness, leaving the room wasn’t the issue,” he said, his tone low yet firm. “You’re allowed to do anything you like. You’re the princess. But I wish you had told me, I wish you had let me accompany you.” 

Juliette’s heart sank a little at his words, but she remained silent, letting him continue. 

“Security isn’t just about what happens during an event,” Daniel went on, his voice tightening with the weight of his concern. “It’s everything before, during, and after. The threats don’t disappear once the event ends. If anything, that’s when they become more dangerous.” He glanced at her briefly before his eyes returned to the road. 

He hesitated, his jaw working as if he was trying to find the right words. “You nearly got stabbed tonight,” Daniel said, his voice steady, his professional demeanor never faltering. But Juliette could see it—the flicker of raw worry in his eyes, a vulnerability that he rarely showed. It wasn’t the fear of failing in his duties as her bodyguard or being deemed unworthy of protecting a princess. It was something deeper, more personal. He was genuinely worried about her—as a friend.

Juliette felt a pang of guilt at that realization, understanding the weight of his concern. She hadn’t fully grasped the danger she’d been in until now, and the reality of it all hit her with a cold, sharp clarity.

Daniel exhaled slowly, his frustration evident, but it was clear that the anger wasn’t directed at her. “I’m supposed to protect you,” he said, his voice softening, though the tension remained. “But I can’t do that if I’m not there. All I’m asking for is your trust in my abilities.” 

Juliette nodded slowly, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “I understand. I trust you,” she replied quietly. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I really am.”

Daniel didn’t respond immediately, but the stiffness in his posture seemed to ease, if only slightly. The silence between them was no longer as suffocating, but it was still heavy with the unresolved tension of the night’s events.

They continued down the darkened road, the safe house still a few hours away. Despite the emotional distance that had grown between them, Juliette knew that they would have to find a way to rebuild the trust that had been shaken tonight. For now, she would do her part by proving that she trusts him. 

───────────  ♛  ───────────

It was well over midnight when Daniel pulled up to the safe house. The drive had been long and relatively quiet—except for a few small disagreements about the music—and the isolation of their destination only added to the somber mood. The house itself was tucked away in the woods, a fortified residence that exuded security and comfort in equal measure. As they stepped out of the car, Juliette took in the surroundings, the dense trees offering both protection and a sense of seclusion. 

Daniel moved with practiced efficiency, his eyes scanning every corner of the property, ensuring that all security measures were in place. He entered the house and checked the locks, the windows, and the security monitors, leaving nothing to chance.

Juliette stood by the doorway, watching him work, a thought crossing her mind. “You know,” she began, her voice light but carrying an edge of dark humor, “if you were the real threat, you could easily kill me here, and no one would ever know.”

Daniel paused, his back still to her as her words hung in the air. Slowly, he turned to face her, his expression serious for a split second before a playful smile tugged at his lips. 

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “If I were the real threat,” he said quietly. “I think I’d be more creative than this.” He gestured around them, as if to say that choosing such a predictable setting would be beneath him. 

Despite his smile, there was a subtle edge to his tone, a hint of something dangerous that lingered just beneath the surface. The contrast between his lightheartedness and the underlying threat made Juliette realize how profoundly she had come to trust him. The fact that he was the only person standing between her and any real danger added weight to his words. Yet, as quickly as the tension had appeared, it was dispelled. His expression softened, the brief flash of darkness vanishing as if he hadn’t just hinted at something far more darker.

“Oh, thanks, I suppose that’s a comforting thought,” she said lightly, her attempt at humour falling flat. 

He shot her a quick wink before turning back to finish his sweep of the room, the moment of levity breaking through the lingering tension between them. 

Juliette stepped inside the house, her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. The interior was understated but functional—well-fortified and secure, yet designed for comfort. The furniture was sturdy, the decor simple, and the atmosphere was calming in its own way. She could see the reinforced locks on the doors and the security cameras mounted discreetly around the rooms.

When he spoke again, his tone was gentler, almost reassuring. “This place is as secure as it gets. You’ll be safe here.” 

Juliette nodded, taking in the aftermath of the situation. The safe house, though comfortable, felt foreign and isolating. It was a stark contrast to the lively hotel she had left behind, and it brought a new layer of reality to the evening’s events. She began to unpack their essentials alongside Daniel, trying to make the space feel a bit more like home.

As they worked side by side, the silence was no longer uncomfortable. It felt like they were gradually slipping back into their usual rhythm, the unspoken bond between them strengthening after everything they had been through.

Finally, after everything was settled, Daniel sat on the couch, a small smile playing on his lips. “Get comfortable, Your Highness,” he said with a hint of his usual humor. “We might be here for a while.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow, a frown playing on her lips. “What do you mean? How long are we staying here?”

“We’ll be staying here for a few days, at least until we’re sure it’s safe to return to the palace,” he explained, his tone more relaxed now. “Vincent could be a one-off, but until we know for sure, this is the best place for us.”

Despite his earlier detachment, Daniel was still the same person she had come to rely on. His professionalism and dedication to her safety were unwavering, but beneath that was a genuine concern for her well-being.

Soon, Juliette retreated to the bedroom, her dress rustling softly as she moved. The room was dimly lit by a bedside lamp, casting a warm glow over the tasteful furnishings. She glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror, noting the intricate beading of her gown and how it clung uncomfortably to her form. The elegance of the dress felt more like a burden than a symbol of grace at that moment.

With a sigh of frustration, she fumbled with the zipper at the back, which had stubbornly snagged. She struggled to fix the issue, feeling the dress that had once made her feel regal now felt like a shackle. Twisting and turning to try and get a grasp on the tiny zipper down her back, the effort seemed futile. Finally, deciding that damaging the dress wasn't worth the stress, she called for Daniel.

She heard his footsteps approach immediately, followed by the soft click of the door opening. Daniel stepped inside, his eyes quickly assessing the situation as he saw Juliette grappling with the stubborn zipper.

“Everything alright, Your Highness?” he asked, his tone neutral as he took in the sight before him.

Juliette turned to face him, her frustration evident. “The zipper won’t budge,” she admitted, lifting her hair to make it easier for him to reach. “I’m afraid I might ruin it if I keep trying.”

Daniel nodded and approached her in a few short strides. He stood close behind her, his breath warm against her neck as he carefully worked on the zipper. His fingers brushed lightly against her skin as he maneuvered the clasp. 

“I’ve got it,” he said softly next to her ear, his voice a reassuring murmur. With a deft pull, the zipper slid down smoothly, freeing Juliette from the confines of the dress.

The relief was immediate and palpable. Juliette took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as the tension eased. “Thank you,” she said, her voice softer now, laced with genuine gratitude.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “No problem,” he replied. “I’m here to help, after all.” 

For a moment, neither of them moved. Daniel’s fingers lingered at the base of her spine, his touch barely there but impossible to ignore. The warmth of his hand met the coolness of her bare skin, and Juliette couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down her back. His thumb brushed lightly along the path the zipper had traced, the contact sending a delicate tremor through her.

The air between them grew thick with a tension neither of them seemed eager to break. Juliette’s breath hitched, the simple act of undressing suddenly charged with an unspoken intensity. She turned slightly, just enough to catch his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. The way he looked at her—steady, attentive, with something smouldering beneath the surface—made her pulse quicken.

She hesitated, weighing her words before she spoke. “So, you’d help with anything?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost teasing, but laced with something more. The question hung in the air, a delicate invitation wrapped in subtlety.

Daniel’s eyes darkened ever so slightly, the playful smile on his lips fading into something more thoughtful, more intent. His fingers brushed over her back one last time before he withdrew them, as if reluctantly letting go of something he wasn’t ready to admit.

“Anything you need,” he replied, his voice low, the words carrying a weight that belied their simplicity.

Juliette’s heart skipped a beat at his response, the space between them suddenly feeling charged with possibilities that hadn’t been there before. The room seemed smaller, the silence more intimate, as if they were the only two people in the world at that moment.

But just as quickly as the tension had built, it began to ease as Daniel stepped back, watching her for a moment before leaving the room, giving her the privacy she needed to continue undressing. Yet the undercurrent of their exchange lingered, an unspoken understanding that hung in the air, unresolved but undeniable.

As the door clicked shut, Juliette let the dress slip from her shoulders, leaving her standing in the soft light of the room, feeling both exposed and strangely empowered. Juliette dressed slowly, her mind still replaying the moment with Daniel. She pulled on a pair of soft lounge pants and a loose top, something far more comfortable than the gown she had been confined in all evening. But, no amount of soft fabric could soothe the memory of Daniel’s touch that prickled under her skin. 

Deciding to push aside the thoughts that refused to settle, Juliette stepped out of the bedroom and made her way to the living room. But as she entered, she was caught off guard by the sight of Daniel lounging on the sofa, completely at ease in his casual clothes.

He wore a simple t-shirt and a pair of joggers, an outfit that seemed so out of place for the man who usually stood guard in tailored suits. Yet here he was, looking every bit like someone she could have met in a more ordinary life—someone who could have been a friend, maybe even something more. The stark contrast between the Daniel she was used to and the man sitting comfortably before her only served to stir the tension that had simmered between them since their last encounter.

As her eyes adjusted to the brighter light, she noticed the tattoos on his left arm, now fully visible in the soft glow of the room. She had seen a few of them before, when he rolled up his sleeves on the plane, but many had been hidden then. Now, the inked designs told a story she hadn’t expected—a glimpse into a side of him she had never fully seen.

It was hard not to notice how relaxed he appeared, his guard down in a way she hadn’t seen before. The way the fabric of his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the casual sprawl of his legs, the easy confidence in his posture—it all made him look less like the bodyguard she was supposed to maintain a professional relationship with and more like someone who belonged in her personal life, someone who could effortlessly blur the lines between duty and desire.

Daniel glanced up as she entered, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Hey,” he greeted, his tone as casual as his appearance, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. 

“Hey,” she replied, trying to sound equally nonchalant as she moved closer. But she couldn’t shake the awareness that prickled beneath her skin, the tension that seemed to hum quietly between them, an undercurrent she couldn’t ignore.

Juliette found herself lingering near the sofa, her eyes subtly tracing the lines of his relaxed form. He looked different, more approachable, yet it was precisely this version of him that felt the most dangerous—the most capable of making her forget the boundaries that had been so carefully constructed. This was the Daniel who could slip into her life in ways that were entirely too intimate, too personal.

“You look…different from your usual attire,” she remarked, trying to keep the conversation light. 

Daniel smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Good different or bad different?” 

“Good different,” she admitted, a smile playing on her lips. “It suits you. It’s just unexpected, I guess.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting. “Well, I suppose it’s a side of me you’ll get to see more often while we’re here. No suits or ties required.”

Juliette laughed, feeling some of the tension ease. “I think I can handle that.”

For a moment, silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The tension from earlier still simmered beneath the surface, but they both seemed content to let it lie for now, focusing instead on the small, normal moments that allowed them to relax.

“I was thinking of making something to eat,” Daniel said, breaking the quiet. “I’m starving. Want to join me?”

Juliette’s stomach growled softly at the mention of food, reminding her that it had been hours since they last ate. She glanced at the clock on the wall—it was getting pretty late, midnight struck hours ago, but the idea of sharing a meal with Daniel, even this late, seemed comforting. “Sure. I’m hungry too.”

They moved to the kitchen together, the air between them lighter now, the earlier tension replaced by the comfort of routine. Daniel rummaged through the pantry, pulling out ingredients for a simple meal, while Juliette set about preparing the counter space. It felt almost domestic, the way they worked in tandem, as if they had done this a hundred times before.

They ate together, savoring the simplicity of the meal and the ease of each other’s company. For a brief moment, the worries of the day seemed distant, replaced by light conversation and shared laughter. Daniel’s stories, filled with his humor and vivid descriptions, kept Juliette engaged, her own smiles and laughter coming more freely than it had in days.

As the time passed, though, Juliette could feel a creeping unease settling in her chest. Even the warmth of the meal and Daniel’s comforting presence couldn’t entirely push away the restlessness that lingered at the edges of her mind. The idea of going to bed alone in a strange place, after the events of the day, felt daunting. Yet, she didn’t want to voice it directly. Instead, she found herself drawing out the conversation, asking Daniel about anything and everything—his travels, the places he’d seen, even the tattoos that had caught her eye earlier—details she had never thought to ask before. 

Daniel, ever perceptive, indulged her questions with a patient smile, but after a while, he glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late,” he noted gently, his tone still warm but carrying a hint of concern. “You should try to get some rest.”

Juliette’s heart skipped a beat, the reality of the night ahead sinking in. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, not in the way she needed to. The silence that had been comforting earlier now felt like it might swallow her whole if she were left alone with it.

Reluctantly, she stood, her hands lingering on the edge of the table as she tried to find the words. Daniel watched her, his gaze steady, sensing that something was off.

“Daniel…” she began, her voice quieter than before. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

He looked at her, understanding dawning in his eyes. He opened his mouth to offer reassurance, to remind her that she was safe here, but she cut him off with a look that told him it wasn’t just about the physical safety of the place.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she finally admitted, the vulnerability in her voice surprising even her. “Could you…stay?”

His brow furrowed slightly as he nodded, clearly ready to reassure her. “I’m not going anywhere, Your Highness. I’ll be here the whole time, right in the next room.”

But she shook her head, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of hesitation and sincerity. “No, I mean…stay. In my room.”

The air between them seemed to thicken, the implications of her request hanging in the space. Daniel’s expression softened, the understanding clear now. He realized it wasn’t just about proximity; it was about presence, about needing someone beside her, more than just physically.

“I didn’t say I’d do anything for you just for the sake of saying it,” Daniel replied, his voice low and earnest. “If you need me, I’ll stay.”

Juliette felt a wave of relief wash over her, the tension easing just a fraction as she nodded. Without another word, Daniel followed her to the bedroom, the unspoken promise of his presence offering a comfort that she hadn’t realized she needed so desperately.

When they reached the room, Daniel didn’t hesitate. He settled into the chair by the window, his gaze never leaving her. “I’ll be right here,” he said, the reassurance in his voice a balm to her frayed nerves.

His presence was solid and grounding, yet he was careful to respect the boundaries of her personal space. He wasn’t about to invade her privacy by suggesting they share the bed or take advantage of her vulnerability. After all, she was a princess, and he was her bodyguard. His role was to provide protection and support without overstepping the delicate balance of their professional relationship. His choice to stay in the chair, maintaining a respectful distance, was a testament to his understanding of the boundaries between them. 

Juliette slid into the bed, the unfamiliar sheets feeling just a little more welcoming with him there. She didn’t know if she would sleep, but for the first time all night, the idea didn’t seem so impossible. As she closed her eyes, she let the sound of Daniel’s steady breathing anchor her, the darkness of the room no longer feeling so suffocating.

With him there, maybe, just maybe, she could find some peace.

─────────── ♛ ───────────

[chiaraanatra]

Falling Like This

Request: Hey love! I was listening to “Sure Be Cool If You Did” by Blake Shelton and immediately thought of sending you a request! Could you write something based on this?! 😘 - @callsign-viper

Summary: After everything that happened (reuniting with you, watching you break up with your boyfriend, and training at Top Gun), Jake decides to go after what he wants. Or the one where Jake falls madly in love with you all over again.

Warnings: alcohol mentioned, a little grab ass, kissing, fluff out the ass, nicknames (Stinger, Honeybee, pretty girl, darlin'), pilot!reader.

Word Count: 1k

AN: Well it took almost a year and I apologize for that! At first, I thought this would be a prequel to Break Up in a Small Town but it turned into a sequel. I think this is a more loose interpretation of the song but I'm happy with how it turned out. Thank you so much @callsign-viper for these requests I had so much fun with them. 💜

For parts 1 & 2 of this accidental series: pt 1: Cop Car || pt 2: Break up in a Small Town

《 m.list || ao3 》

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin POV

God, you were beautiful. You were always beautiful, but there was something about the way your outfit hung on your frame perfectly and how the neon lights from the bar signs made you glow. If looks could kill, Hangman would have been a dead man.

He had told himself that he was going to take things slow, have a drink or two, and get reacquainted after a few years of not seeing each other. Not long ago he had a front-row seat to your decently shitty breakup and you were both going through the stresses of Top Gun training.

But here you both were, sitting at a high-top table across from one another. One drink turned into a few, one hour turned into several, and Penny had just shouted last call.

Have we really been sitting here all night?

He watched as you dragged your finger along the rim of your empty glass, “Pretty sure Penny’s gonna kick us out soon.”

"Yeah." His next words came before he could stop himself, "Is it wrong to say I don’t want this night to end just yet?" He wanted to blame his boldness on the alcohol, but the last drink order was an hour ago and you were both pretty sober.

Thankfully you appeared to be feeling just as bold, “Who said it has to?” It had been a little bit since you broke up with Tom. You and Jake had been spending more and more time together and everything felt like it was falling into place.

A signature grin was plastered on his face, "Whatcha have in mind, Honeybee?"

A smile made its way onto your lips at the nickname. He loved the way the name fell from his lips and seeing your reactions. You had always been his Honeybee. It had started as a joke, a play on the callsign given to you at the academy. Stinger: precise and direct, making a "beeline" to the point regardless of the sting. But Jake had known you since high school and you were still the girl that he could easily embarrass, melting like sweet honey in his hands.

Your eyes darted to the picturesque view of the beach contained within the Hard Deck's back window. "Up for a little walk on the beach?" He could hear a slight bit of apprehension in your voice.

Without a word he stood up, holding out his hand to lead you towards the exit. On the way, he placed cash on the bar for Penny. You stopped at his truck leaving your shoes behind and he watched as you made a beeline for the beach.

Jake took a moment to just watch you, how the moonlight danced across your skin. After a minute, he couldn't stand that he wasn't closer, couldn’t stand that he wasn’t touching you, holding you, kissing you.

He snuck up behind you, arms finding their way around your waist. He picked you up effortlessly and spun you around. You both couldn't help but laugh before he set you down. His hands made their way to your cheeks, taking in every detail of your face. Jake could swear your eyes sparkled when you looked at him.

Before he got a chance to ask, your lips were on his, arms snaking around his neck pulling him closer. Your lips were soft and warm, sweet like honey. His tongue dragged along your bottom lip as if to ask for permission. Without hesitation, your mouth opened, and your tongues danced with one another. Jake all but wanted to devour you in that very moment.

With bated breath he backed away slightly, wanting to share the thoughts swimming in his mind. "I wish I never let you go… We could have made the distance work…"

You ran your fingers gently through his golden locks, interrupting his spiral, "Hush. What matters is that we're here now. Together." Your touch and words put him at ease while simultaneously creating a fire within him.

Without a word he lifted you up, one arm caressing your lower back, the other supporting your legs. You gave him a questioning look. "Jake..?" His only reply to your inquiry was a devilish smile, quickly making his way into the water. "Seresin!" Now the two of you were completely soaked and laughing like fools.

"Common darlin'," his Texas accent was more prominent, "a little water never hurt anyone." he switched his hold on you, wrapping your legs around his waist. His next statement came from nowhere, but he just couldn't help himself, "What if I just dropped you right now?"

“Jake… You wouldn't dar-" Jake didn't let you finish, releasing you from his grasp. He watched as you fell into the crystal blue ocean, knowing that you would have done the same to him if you were in his position.

He wasn't wrong, so it was surprising that he didn't anticipate your next move. You came up from behind, jumping on top of him which effectively caused him to fall into the water himself. When he got his footing back, a splash of water hit his face. The sounds of your laughter and crashing waves were like music to his ears.

He pushed back his wet hair before holding his hands up in the air. "Truce?"

You moved in closer before wrapping your arms around him, "Truce."

One hand moved into your hair while the other found purchase on your ass. The warm Pacific waters enveloped you both as your bodies melted into one another. Jake pulled you in for another searing kiss, this one more frantic than the last, all tongues, teeth, and hands. If he had it his way, this is how the two of you would spend the rest of your lives, heated kisses and close bodies.

Jake pulled back, taking in your dazed look and the want in your eyes. He pressed his lips to the top of your head before whispering, "How about I get you home, pretty girl?"

"Only if you promise to stay." When you looked up at him, Jake swore that you would be the eventual death of him, a death he would gladly welcome with open arms.

"I think we can make that happen."

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @callsign-viper @luckyladycreator2 @saturnsbabe69 @desert-fern @pono-pura-vida @djs8891 @dempy

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @metztlilua based on this photoset.

Britchell, T

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3.

Sparks in the Night

—

Anders huffs annoyed, shoving his suitcase harder than he needs to into the trunk of the ridiculous rental car he was given. It looked like something the dumb bimbos he often accompanied himself with would drive; barely a keychain of a car, cherry red and tiny that might as well could have had a “babe on board” bumper sticker; it was apparently the only vehicle left after the rental screwed up his request for an actual car and gave it to somebody else. Of course, that was just his luck; forced away to work in Bristol by Dawn to get back the clients he lost after Norway, stuck in a clown car in a snowy cold town and almost an hour late to his meeting with the actual hospital director. 

He gets into the vehicle and slams the door,  making the little wooden ornament hanging from the rear view mirror swing left and right then promptly come off of the little string and bonk him in the head

“Fucking great” he mutters to no one in particular, setting up his GPS for the hospital, then calling Dawn to let her know he’s arrived; his barely warm breath fogging up the inside of the small vehicle, snow falling outside, it’s frost adorning the sides of the windshield as Anders pulls out of the airport parking lot. 

The dial tones finally end and before Dawn can even answer the blonde yells into the air 

“I’m freezing my balls off, Dawn!” 

“Hello, Anders….” She mutters annoyed; like regretting ever approaching his office when he posted that -help wanted- sign “how was your flight? Have you talked to the hospital director?” 

The silence spreads thru the vehicle as Anders drives away from the parking lot, the landscape gray and ominous 

“Anders?” Pushes Dawn 

“Flight was fine, I… might be a little late” 

There’s a sigh coming out of the other end of the phone but then nothing else; it’s almost as scary as the long line of frosted over trees and open fields, adorned with small houses every few miles “please don’t fuck this up for us, Anders. I don’t care how little you wanna do it, we need the money.” 

She hangs up almost immediately after that; Anders pouts and sighs all the way to the hospital, he didn’t get to ask about his fish which was his main concern every time he travelled but the worst part of it all was having to plan a freaking Christmas charity; for a town in the middle of nowhere, England. 

The assignment was less than exciting, the location unfortunate and the timing absolutely dreadful; the only good thing out of it, of course was the pay (almost three quarters of what he usually charges but good enough), after his business going almost broke since no one was taking care of it with Agnetha turned to a tree, he sent Dawn looking for clients and Bristol christmas-y charity was the first thing to pop up,  it was easy and short enough, that’s how he ended up driving the almost empty road, freezing to death, Bragi rumbling at the back of his head making him far more alert than he maybe should be. 

By the time he reaches the edge of Bristol where the hospital is, the sky is already darkening, casting long shadows over the streets and snow-dusted rooftops. The car’s heater finally warmed up, but Anders still felt chilled to the core as he rolled down the parking lot, glancing at the overly decorated outside of the building. It´s… charming, he supposes, in the way a child’s art is charming. But charm didn’t pay the bills, and it certainly didn’t make for a viral marketing campaign. He sighs getting ready to Bragi whoever he left hanging to take them back as clients after arriving two hours late to his meeting, giving himself a small pep talk in the mirror “you used to take cases like this fresh out of college, you got this”

He exits the vehicle with his jacket im one arm and a briefcase filled with essential paperwork on the other, promptly knocking the wind (and the drinks) out of what he figures is a male nurse he failed to see in the rearview mirror with the briefcase 

“Ow!” He complains, holding his side where the edge of the case hit him, then peeling his soaked up shirt away from his body with the tip of his fingers 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!” Anders mumbles, looking up at the man, tan skin, glossy black curly hair down to his shoulders, squared sunglasses (at almost 6pm) and a cigarette trapped still between his lips “I…didn’t see you for some reason I usually…” 

“It’s fine” he interrupts, putting a fingerless glove up to his face, then taking off his glasses and hanging them at the hem of his scrubs; offering up a shiny, dimpled smile that takes his breath away “happens more than you’d think” 

and then a cheeky little wink before he’s off inside the hospital 

“very aware of my surroundings…” he finishes his phrase for no one in particular, absolutely mesmerized by chocolate eyes before shaking his head and walking past the hospital door himself, pushing past a few people and into the nurses desk at the main office 

“Hello I have an appointment with a…” Anders trails off, rifling through the pocket of his jacket for the crumpled note he’d scribbled the name on earlier. The receptionist raises an eyebrow, tired from a full day shift and not ready to take any crap 

“Well? We’re all ears,” she says, gesturing to the empty waiting area.

He finds the note and smooths it out against his thigh. “Right, uh, Helena Rowe. She’s expecting me.”

The receptionist’s lips press into a thin line as her fingers fly across the keyboard. Her expression changes to annoyed  as she glances at the screen. “You’re almost two hours late. She’s probably not expecting you anymore.”

Anders winces. “Look, I can explain, traffic was…”

“Not my problem,” she interrupts, folding her arms over her chest like she’s activating a gate of sorts. “Helena doesn’t like people wasting her time but you’re welcome to reschedule.”

He tightens his grip on his briefcase, weighing his options. Then, with a measured breath, he leans forward slightly placing his elbows on the desk to speak to the woman,  his voice softening into something familiar to a lullaby 

“I understand how inconvenient this is,” he begins, his words weaving an unseen thread into the air  “But she is is expecting me, and it’s imperative that I see her tonight. I wouldn’t have made the journey otherwise. Surely, you can understand the importance of this meeting. So what you’re gonna do right now is tell her I’m here and let me through.”

The receptionist blinks, her frown faltering as if she’s struggling to remember why she was annoyed in the first place. Her gaze softens, and she sighs, her fingers tapping the desk.

“Yes,” she relents, sounding almost confused at her own response. “East wing. Take a left. Helena’s office is at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you, doll” Anders says smoothly, straightening.

As he turns to leave, a familiar voice, an Irish one, interrupts his walking away

“Never seen anyone change her mind before,” Mitchell says, leaning against the wall near the desk, arms crossed and wearing a mischievous little grin.

“God!” Anders starts, caught off guard by his sudden presence, not sure why can´t he OR bragi feel him “It’s you”

“Well I’m back for round two! I am ready this time so don’t think you’ll beat me that easy” he quips, chuckling as Anders’ cheeks flush bright red. “I mean it, tho…That was impressive. She usually guards Helena like a rabid dog.”

Anders shrugs, trying to play it off. “It’s all in the delivery.”

“Sure it is,” Mitchell says, his tone teasing as he adjusts the sunglasses perched atop his head. “Well, good luck there. she’s not exactly easy to charm.”

Anders tilts his head, narrowing his eyes slightly. “And how would you know?”

The black haired man smirks. “We go way back. Just don’t let her see you flinch, or she’ll eat you alive.”

Before he can respond, he turns and strolls down the hall, Mop in hand (so not a nurse? Anders doesn’t really know what they do) Shaking his head, the blond steels himself, adjusts his briefcase, and pushes open the door to Helena’s office; no one who’s met him after the age of twenty one has “seen him flinch” and he’s not about to let it happen. As he steps inside, he’s ready to tire Bragi and eat this woman’s ear off, but it doesn’t quite get to that point. Since the hospital is desperate for media coverage for its charity. Helena’s gaze softens as she regards him, her posture relaxed in a way that betrays her usual authority.

“There’s usually a man in  the staff who helps me organize the charity events,” she begins, her tone direct but thoughtful. “We love the local charm, we do, but honestly, we need more. We want something bigger, something more professional to really bring attention to the cause. Dawn? Is her name? She really made it sound like”you” kind of  a job!” 

Anders makes a mental note to scold her for bringing him into such a stupid little thing as Helena continues 

“I appreciate Mitchell of course! But I suppose it’s about time we bring in someone who knows how to get the job done.” She pauses “I hope you two get along…” 

And with that she lets him off the hook for the day; suggests he get some rest and then come back the next morning to start setting up the job. 

The next day comes, and Anders shows up actually on time, refreshed and still freezing but armed with a trusty (and admittedly  little dusty from not taking jobs like this in a long time) binder. Inside are meticulously designed packages with different approaches to charity events, all of them proven winners (he’s done them before, thank you.).

When he pushes open the door to the conference room, two coffees in hand to play the caring guy card, Helena is already seated, obsessively checking her watch, but it’s not her that catches his attention.

It’s Mitchell

Leaning casually against the chair instead of sitting on it like a normal person, somehow managing to pull off GREEN fingerless gloves that drive anders INSANE. There is no sight of the mop but the faint scent of cigarette smoke still lingers, as does the confident tilt of his jaw. The white sleeves under his scrubs are rolled up, revealing muscled forearms Anders absolutely refuses to notice, and he’s chewing gum with just enough indifference to be infuriating.

For a beat, Anders falters. It’s barely perceptible, a stutter in the rhythm of his steps, but to him, it feels like tripping over his own ego. He recovers quickly, plastering on a neutral expression, but his thoughts churn. Why is he here? What does he even do? Why is he so fucking hot?

Mitchell catches his eye and smirks, a knowing, insufferable little thing that makes Anders want to throw his binder at him and simultaneously fix his tie.

Clearing his throat, Anders strides to the head of the table, offering the coffee in one hand to Helena with a charming smile. Then he sets his binder down with an audible thud, flipping it open with practiced flair to shove the distraction aside. He tries to make it past but Mitchell´s cherry, admittedly annoying presence burns inside his brain and  he can’t resist. Gesturing vaguely in his direction “This room seems pretty clean to me, mop boy. Are you sure you’re in the right meeting?”

Mitchell’s smirk deepens, unbothered by the comment. “Well I am a multitasker,” he says smoothly, popping his gum and sitting down as if he owns the room.

“play nice, Mitchell” comes Helena´s retort and the blond finally understands his presence in the room, blinking and admittedly thrown for half a second by the sheer audacity. he continues on 

 “Right. Well.” He takes a breath, shaking it off and launching into his pitch. “Let’s talk about strategy. We need this event to be newsworthy so here are some options.”

He takes a sip before continuing, noticing she doesn’t grab the cup, pushing it slightly away from her instead 

“Option one: an exclusive masquerade gala, we do fireworks and a local celebrity endorsement. Option two: a community carnival, elevated to festival status and interactive performances. And, if you’re feeling bold…” He flips to the last section with a mischievous grin. “Option three: the Sexiest Nurse Pageant or Date with Your Doctor Auction. Guaranteed to pack a house, I´ve seen the staff and you guys have material.”

Helena lifts a brow, amused by the idea and the commentary on her staff. Mitchell on the other hand? Not so much.

“This is a charity event, not some trashy reality show,” He says, arms crossed and eyes narrowing.

Anders smirks to avoid rolling his eyes back to his skull, leaning forward and turning on Bragi just to get the interruption over with. “What’s the point of charity if no one’s there to throw money at it? We’re trying to make waves here.”

Mitchell doesn’t budge. Its startling to say the least 

 “We’re trying to celebrate the community. Not humiliate it. This should be about the people who live here, who make this hospital what it is, not about putting on some over-the-top spectacle.”

Anders exhales, closing his binder with a definitive snap. Not wanting to make a scene, he folds  “Fine. What’s your big idea, then? A bake sale? a craft table?”

“Actually,” Mitchell says, stepping forward “I don’t even understand why we need you here; you don’t belong in Bristol, you don’t know the people and it doesn’t seem like you care either. So why don’t you step back, hire your camera man and let us do this charity the way it always has been done 

Anders rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah like that’s going viral.”

“That’s not the point,” Mitchell counters smoothly. “This festival is for them, not your Instagram feed.”

Before Anders can retort, Helena steps in, her sharp tone cutting through the tension.

 “Enough of this, I have no time for you guys to fight each other on everything. We want modern so we can´t do things the same way we always have” Anders throws a smirk in the other man´s direction, being met by an eyeroll as Helena continues “ but Mitchell is right, this event is for our community we want it to be simple. I need you two to be working together. Ok?”

The smile on his face wipes away immediately, Mitchell smiles at him  the same way he had except he´s smug and dimpled, a thing that only adds to Anders’ irritation.

“Look I have another meeting, please Micthell, show Anders the space for the event and get back to me with your plan alright?” She doesn’t wait for a response before leaving, the (kind of overpriced) cup of coffee abandoned in the middle of the table. He exhales desperately, letting himself fall back into the chair, his frustration visible staring daggers into the man, of course, he is unfazed, still wearing that stupidly goofy grin.

“you now…” he pauses swiftly walking closer to the table, taking the coffee cup in his hand “if you want to win Helena over you´ll have to do better than coffee, she hates it” 

“Me on the other hand” he continues on, lifting the cup with a teasing grin, “I’m a sucker for a good overpriced brew. This one is burnt, tragic really” He sniffs the lid dramatically, effectively reading his mind  before wrinkling his nose. “I´m still taking it, you knocked mine over yesterday”

Anders groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know, I didn’t come here to talk coffee with someone whose job description I still haven’t figured out.”

Mitchell leans casually against the table, his un-gloved fingers  tapping lightly on the surface. Closer to Anders  

“I already told you I multitask,” he says again, that infuriating smirk firmly in place. “Today tho. I’m more of a tour guide, we get to spend the whole day together. Lucky you.”

“Lucky isn’t the word I’d use.” He mumbles, narrowing his eyes. Bragi grumbles uncomfortably on the back of his head when a flash of a longer than normal canine tooth in Mitchell´s smile catches his eye.

“Oh, don’t worry. I´ll make sure you think you´re lucky by the end of today with my…” He trails off, deliberately leaving the thought unfinished, taking another sip of the coffee. The room seems quieter suddenly, the tension shifting as Mitchell meets blue eyes. There’s a flicker of mischief in those chocolate-brown depths, and it’s maddening.

Anders straightens in his seat, clasping his hands together atop the binder, ignoring the undeniable nervousness he feels around him then stands up abruptly, heading toward the door “lets just go I don’t have all day” 

The lower level of the hospital holds a “convention” space, like a multipurpose room designed mainly for doctors to give lectures (it IS a teaching hospital after all), but it also hosts conferences, and conducts specialized training sessions. On paper, it sounds perfect for a charity gala; it’s spacious enough for a crowd and equipped with the necessary amenities. But the moment Anders steps inside, he feels real dismay.

It’s functional, no doubt about that, like any room inside a hospital should be but that’s exactly the problem. The walls are a dull beige color that Anders fears USED to be white, radiating all the charm of one of those long hospital rooms that are seen in war movies, and the faint scent of rubbing alcohol still lingers, like the ghosts of medical seminars past. The tables, stacked neatly to one side, are plain and honestly kind of flimsy. The  gray-speckled carpet somehow sucks the entire life of the room. Anders didn’t even KNOW carpets could do such a thing

“It’s… a choice,” Anders says after a moment, setting his binder down on one of the folding tables. Hearing an annoyed huff come out of mitchell, he slaps himself mentally for not choosing his words more carefully, he’ll dwell on WHY does he care so much about mitchells feeling later “It’s… fitting, I guess”

“Fitting for a hospital,” Mitchell mumbles from the doorway, arms crossed, as he stares at his own fingernails. “It’s almost like they designed it that way.”

Anders ignores him, walking further into the room. “There’s potential here, I suppose. But the space feels… wrong. It’s cramped, clinical, and serious in all the wrong ways. This is supposed to be a gala, not a symposium on heart disease.”

Mitchell smirks.Sligtly amused by the way the blond talks and has walked into the middle of the room spinning in little circles around himself, like he’s trying to find something “Well, I hate to break it to you, but this is a hospital.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” Anders mutters, picturing the absolute horror it will be to hang anything from the high ceilings of the pleace “This place doesn’t inspire anything for me” 

“What about gratitude for functioning kidneys or…blood inside your veins,” Mitchell offers, shrugging. “I mean, it’s a hospital, man. You’re not exactly working with a five-star venue here.”

Anders sighs, pacing toward one of the windows as Mitchell’s voice fades into background noise. His eyes wandering to the scene outside; a family gathered on the back patio, talking quietly, probably about a patient inside. The man in the middle, tall and broad-shouldered, catches Anders’s attention. He has the same sandy-brown hair as Mike.

The thought sends a shiver down his spine.

He doesn’t need to remember Mikkel at this specific moment. Or ever, Not him, not the rest of them either and something about seeing that other guy, standing there so calmly, smiling softly to a blonde girl, gnaws at him. For a second, he’s back in that familiar, uncomfortable place, his chest tight with resentment and unease.

Mitchell’s voice breaks through Anders’s thoughts. “You´re not planning to jump out the window are you?.”

“The patio” he says, pointing out the window, shaking off the feeling . “It ’s perfect.”

“Perfect for what ? A coffee break?” Mitchell walks over, closer to Anders, he can feel the accelerated palpitations of the blond´s heart but he opts for letting it go, leaning just enough to glance outside. His expression shifts, but only for a moment, before he schools it back into his usual smirk. 

“For the gala,” Anders replies, his tone unwaveringly annoyed, but already pulling out his phone to make notes, like Mitchell’s skepticism is merely background noise to him. “It’s charming, it’s intimate, and with a little effort, it could be transformed into something amazing. String lights, elegant seating, maybe even some heaters for the weather, it’s exactly the kind of space that draws people in and makes them feel something.”

“It’s a bad idea, Anders, families use that space to get away from everything. So does the staff.” Mitchell exhales, shaking his head, trying to pull Anders´ attention to anything other than that spot HIS spot “It’s really not s…”

He cuts himself off, glancing out the window again. It’s his favorite spot in the hospital, probably the only place where he can come out and relax. Sometimes, when he feels like he will fail miserably and go back to drinking blood, to Herrick, he goes out there and breathes in the faint earthy smell. There’s something grounding about it, about the way the white flowers bloom against the cobblestone, even when everything else feels sterile and heavy. Two big trees frame the entrance and they´re foliage changes with the stations, their shadow allows Mitchell to be outside without sunglasses and he doesn’t understand WHY of all the places, has Anders chosen that one. 

The blond ignores his ramble, Mitchell writes on his mind notes that that´s one of his abilities as they approach the window, standing closely to each other, far closer than it’s probably acceptable, Anders´heart has calmed down now and he glances out the window, lifting up his fingers in an L shape like he’s trying to measure out the space, writing down notes on his phone with the faintest smile that Mitchell makes sure to remember the look off, because who knows when he’ll see it again.

“Helena’s not gonna go for it.” He mumbles, not wanting to break the spell, swallowing hard when sea blue eyes look up at him, a twinkle worthy of actual christmas lights on them, paired with a sly little smirk 

“Yeah she will” And with that he´s off for the day, immediately placing a call to whoever “Dawn” is, asking her about a place that ‘sells boho shit’ in Bristol “She just doesn’t know it yet!” 

Helena effectively accepts the Patio idea when it’s pitched to her. Anders smiles warmly at her, leaning close to her  chair in an almost suggestive manner, telling her how she´s “the heart of the hospital” and how lovely her smile is, how bright her eyes shine and how the hospital needs a place that conveys that sort of beauty but translated to a place. She’s down immediately after that, purring after Anders 

It doesn’t make Mitchell jealous at all, whatever dreaded ball of lead forms in his stomach, breathing hot fire up to his unbeating heart it’s probably related to something else. 

With the “all clear” from her, the blond gets to working almost immediately, the christmas charity gala is only two days away, the camera crew, accompanied by a  small production team has been called to televise the event,  and the decorations are already ordered and placed neatly into rows at the conference room, like Anders knew he’d get to do whatever he wanted all along. There isn’t time to complain when the patio needs to be sweeped and measured for the chair arrangement to happen. This task is left for Mitchell and George to do, after all, as much as they like to pretend they aren’t, they’re still the cleaning staff. 

George is the first to complain when they have to haul boxes and sweep floors for an entire afternoon, he groans and moans and as they finish stacking boxes of decorations to put up the next day. The annoyance, tho doesn’t stop him from probing at his dense and unbelievably obvious best friend. “So, the patio, huh? Big win for Mr. Showtime.”

The vampire shrugs, keeping his attention on a stubborn patch of dirt near the cobblestone archway. “It’s fine… I suppose it IS better than that conference room.”

George smirks, leaning casually against the wall. “Fine? You’ve been defending this place like it’s your own house. Didn’t think you’d give it up so easily for a pair of blue eyes.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mitchell freezes for maybe half a second. Staring at George like he’s been discovered eating his things from the pantry again. 

“Sure you don’t,” the brown haired man says, his grin widening. “I’m just saying, you can call him ‘interesting’ all you want, but I know you”

“You’re reading into things.” He exhales sharply, his grip tightening on the broom he has stopped using 

“Am I?” The younger man asks innocently, tilting his head toward the patio entrance; enjoying not being the nervous, jumpy one that doesn’t know what to do with themselves around a love interest 

Mitchell glances up just as Anders strides through the archway, one of those ridiculous clipboards in hand. His tie is slightly loosened, letting a peak of his neck show, specks of sweat forming after running around all day, his hair is tousled and pushed back and he looks tired but his focus is sharp as he enters the patio, mumbling something about chairs. Mitchell quickly looks back down, finally remembering he was actually sweeping.

“Hey! Showtime!” George calls him over  with a low chuckle, brushing off Mitchell’s betrayed looking face before stepping aside to watch; swiftly (and probably too opportunistically, slipping away to have a good rest at the employees lounge). 

Anders spots them, his gaze settling on Mitchell. “Oh, look. You´re ALSO broom boy!” he mumbles, setting his clipboard on a nearby chair.

“Ha!” Mitchell laughs dryly, half hoping for a jab that never comes “You´re back here for an inspection?”.

Anders smirks. Without another word, he places his phone and jacket on a chair, grabs the nearest broom, and starts sweeping with surprising efficiency. One would think you don’t need much to sweep correctly but the

Mitchell glances sideways at Anders, watching him sweep. “Didn’t think this was your thing,” he says carefully.

Anders glances back, arching an eyebrow. “What, you think you’re the only one who knows how to do this, mop boy? I wasn’t always a PR guy, you know.”

Mitchell blinks in mild surprise, caught off guard by the easy confidence in Anders’ tone; standing still for a few seconds with the broom still in hand; Anders huffs a laugh but doesn’t say anything else. Instead they work in comfortable silence until the patio is done, a few hours later, definitely later than Mitchell’s usual clock out hour

It’s about dinner time when they call it a day; the floor has been swept, the chairs have been unfolded and placed like Anders measured them out. Lastly they set up a quick mock up of the “stage”, where Anders will thank visitors from coming and encourage them to share stories of them and the hospital, he will have Helena talk and as much as he tried to have Mitchell do it, he refused adamantly, stating cameras make him nervous anyway. 

The night is settling in and a soft breeze hits Anders in the face; the smell of coffee and something savory from the shop next door wafting into his nostrils and making his tummy grumble 

“Ugh. I’m starving” he mumbles, half annoyed and half glad that they’re done “let’s call it a night and get something to eat?” 

The offer is casual but carried with what Mitchell can only describe as pure suggestiveness. It’s cute 

“Sure!” He takes the measuring tape from Anders’s outstretched hand and throws it somewhere in the garden; they’ll find it tomorrow. They walk to the lounge where Mitchell changes back into tight black jeans and an off white Bill Haley & His Comets (old and stretched out, like it belongs in the past half century )T -shirt, a red wool sweater Annie gave him before leaving hanging in his arm.

The second they step out of the hospital, the chill in the air cuts right through Anders’s thin dress shirt, cursing himself for forgetting to wear a jacket even tho it’s winter in Bristol as he folds his arms tightly over his chest. Mitchell chuckles at his demise, immediately pausing mid-step to hold out the sweater anyway. 

“Here.”

 The younger man arches a brow, glancing skeptically at the sweater. It looks…. Home-y, friendly and cozy. Like all the things he’s not  “Won’t you freeze to death?”

Mitchell shrugs, almost letting out an honest to god laugh ‘to death’ is not a possibility for him of course. He shakes his head no anyway, his tone easy when he pushes the sweater to Anders´s face and says “Nah, I’m never cold anyway.” 

The blond stares at him, puzzled as he reluctantly takes the sweater, pulling it on over his button up. It’s warmer than he expected, soft and it smells like cedar and cigarette smoke, very distinctly Mitchell. He tries not to dwell on it as they continue walking past and out of the mostly empty parking lot. Anders heads to the right, instinctively, looking for the savory smell he’d caught earlier, but Mitchell grabs his elbow.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Why? What’s wrong with that place? It smells fine!“  he groans dramatically

The vampire chuckles, shaking his head as he keeps walking in the other direction, gently pulling at Anders´ folded arm to tuck it under his  "Just trust me, Showtime. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Before Anders can object, Mitchell is already steering him toward a narrow side street, taking him to a small, tucked-away pizza joint he’s probably walked past a dozen times without noticing it. Inside, the staff greets Mitchell like an old friend,one of the waitresses calls out his usual order.

The pizza is, as promised, phenomenal, better than anything Ander´s has eaten in the two days and a half he’s been in Bristol. The conversation flows easily from the gala, to what exactly is Mitchell´s actual job and some of the things that have happened before in the gala, like the time they all light sparklers with the kids in the hospital, mitchell calls it his favorite day in a long time which calls for Anders´attention but he ignores it for the moment being, swiftly reciprocating the candid moment by sharing his own story that Anders has never told anyone before, confessing he used to be a broom boy himself, sweeping floors and washing dishes at a small restaurant near campus to help pay for his tuition.

“I can’t count the times I almost fell asleep on my feet, covered in grease and scrubbing pans like my life depended on it!” he says, shaking his head with a faint, self-deprecating laugh. Mitchell listens, leaning back with an amused smirk. He really is filled with surprises; and like this, with whatever power he pretends not to have over people tucked away, Mitchell realizes just how human Anders is; how lonely he seems. 

When they leave, the warmth of the restaurant fades into the brisk night air, tho Aders is definitely not cold anymore. Mitchell, hands stuffed into his pockets, as they walks back to the little rental car “hey a lady with a car like yours needs someone to walk with her at night. It’s dangerous “"oh! And what would you do to protect me? Mop the floor under the attacker so they slip?” Mitchell hasn’t laughed quite like that in a while and when they’re right at the vehicle door he can’t help but to ask 

“Hey, Anders?” his voice unusually quiet. “Why the patio?”

 “I don’t know. It just… feels special. Like it means something. I can’t explain it.” He hesitates, his hand brushing against the door handle before he answers.

The black haired man hums softly, his gaze drifting toward the stars. “Must be a talent of yours,” he mumbles, there’s a flicker of something in his voice but Mitchell doesn’t let the moment linger. Instead, he opens the car door for Anders himself; their fingers brushing lightly as he takes the handle and opens the door in a dramatic move “your chariot m’lady” 

Letting the younger slip past him and into the driver’s seat, his sweater still on him and an undeniably bright blush on his cheeks “Don’t let it go to your head, Showtime.”

The next day; the last before the actual Gala, the vessel should not HAVE to go to the hospital at all, the physical arrangements are made, the crew is called and the rest of the events have been planned for the day of the gala, so all that is left is hanging the lights and decorations up. The blond is no electrician and neither is he a fan of having to step on ladders so he’s got no reason to really show up, still. He does. 

Helena is out for the day so he has no excuse to plant himself in the conference room all day; the truth is something pulls at him to GO, even if he´s admittedly lonely and feeling stupid the second he walks thru the door; mindlessly roaming the halls until it finally hits him 

he’s looking for Mitchell. It’s only when he finally spots him, holding up a terribly made paper snowflake and that ridiculous grin, carefree laugh that harmonizes with George´s and some of the nurses as they try to hang streamers. One hand balances a cup of coffee from the place he bought last time, the other gestures exaggeratedly to accompany a story Anders can’t hear. He looks so relaxed, so natural.

Anders watches as Mitchell holds up one of the mangled snowflakes he’s made with the instructions the nurses gave him, turning it this way and that with an almost comically serious expression. “It’s not broken; it’s avant-garde,” He declares, placing it on the table. “Mitchell,” George says, with a deadpan. “You don’t even know what ‘avant-garde’ means.”

 A few steps away, Anders watches the scene unfold with an inexplicable mix of irritation and…fondness. It’s infuriating how Mitchell can be such a mess and still make it work. He doesn’t just work in the hospital, he belongs there.

Of course he can’t just stand there waiting for the vampire to acknowledge him; or god forbid catch him staring, so as much as it for some reason pains the blond, he walks away, lingering around the pediatric ward where the wifi is the best and the nurses (young nurses with bright smiles and perky…well everything) are all kind to him and wearing several shades of pink and baby blue. 

Anders dares to think he might make it an hour without thinking about the other man when he’s inevitable there again; as he turns a corner on the cancer ward. He’s using his mop as a crotch to lean on his right knee and left foot; hands busy tying a little girl´s shoelaces, her teddy bear clenched tightly in her arms as they chat, Mitchell ignores his task like she’s the most important person in the room. Her giggles ring through the hallway, and when the black haired man  glances over his shoulder, Anders barely manages to hide behind the corner, its so simple, and unassuming, and annoyingly sweet.

The next time he sees him; Anders pauses just outside a quiet hallway, his curiosity piqued by the sound ofwhat he can now recognize is Mitchell’s voice (which he somehow KNOWS from the rest of the voices he´s heard)) low and conspiratorial. He peers around the corner to see the man standing beside George, who looks like he’d rather sink into the floor than be standing there, clutching a mop as if it’s a lifeline.

“…So you just go up and say, ‘Hi, Nina! You’ve been working hard all day. Can I grab you a coffee?’” Mitchell suggests, miming the easy confidence of someone who has never been rejected in his life.

George sputters, his face turning an impressive shade of red. “I-I can’t just—she’s a doctor, Mitch! She doesn’t have time for coffee, and even if she did—”

Mitchell pats him on the shoulder, grinning. “Trust me, women love it when a guy notices they’re working hard. Go on, say it with me… ‘Can I grab you a coffee?’ ”

George mumbles something incomprehensible.

“Confidence!” he prods, nudging him toward Nina, the woman smiling tiredly as she reads charts from her patients.

“Stop it!” George hisses, digging his heels in, but Anders watches as Mitchell doesn’t relent, grinning ear to ear.

“C’mon, man. You’ve got this. Worst-case scenario? She says no, and you’re stuck with coffee you can bring to me instead PLUS, you pulled that shit with Anders yesterday.” The mention of his name makes him snort quietly, shaking his head as he walks on and away from there. It’s ridiculous, sure, but there’s something undeniably charming about the way Mitchell tries to push George out of his shell, and maybe, he loves the idea of Mitchell being just as nervous as George was to talk to him.

It takes half a day at most, yet he sees it clearly as ever, Mitchell and his stupid gloves and his cigarette smoke and his sunglasses inside. they all belong in Bristol, next to George, in the middle of the nurses. It’s infuriating, how effortless it all seems for him. How he fits in everywhere in a way Anders never has

The thought digs deep, sharper than the vessel expects, twisting his heart painfully..

He’s spent years trying to find that feeling, pouring himself into his work, into his family, into looking for the frigg and then Yggdrasil, chasing success, blending into every background he’s lived in but it’s never clicked. No matter how much he tried, he always felt like a guest. Watching Mitchell now, he feels a pang of something unfamiliar, something uncomfortable and dirty. 

Jealousy.

He takes a deep breath, turning in his heels toward the employees lounge; almost not being able to stop the need to run out of there. The least thing he wants it´s to start feeling weird around the older man, yet,  there’s something about it that makes Anders feel…oddly at ease. For once, the thought doesn’t immediately bite. The sense of belonging in Bristol and the closeness of its people feels almost tangible, even if it’s admittedly not his. Not yet.

As he pours himself a cup of coffee, all he can think about is how Mitchell makes him feel so stupidly out of place.

And for some reason, stupidly at home. Glancing out the freshly clean window, he sees himself reflected, then his eyes drift  toward the patio where staff is hanging up the lights. He makes a mental note to tell them to find those paper snowflakes that the hospital staff has made to hang them up too. 

“Don’t think too hard, Showtime. You might start to like it here.”

The voice, Irish and smug, snaps Anders out of his thoughts. He turns sharply, only to find the black haired man leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, one bushy eyebrow raised 

Anders rolls his eyes, masking the fact that he hadn’t even noticed Mitchell approach (or seen his reflection in the window) “Not a chance, mop boy”

“you seem to come back a lot,tho… ” Mitchell says, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable.

the blond scoffs, turning back to the coffee to avoid the knowing look he’s sure is on Mitchell’s face. “I was just returning your sweater,” he says, tugging at the hem of the red wool sweater he’s been wearing since yesterday. “You wouldn’t catch me dead wearing one of these”

Mitchell steps closer, leaning against the counter beside him, his grin as lazy as ever. “Keep it,” he says easily, the words tinged with something almost fond. “It looks better on you anyway.”

Anders freezes for half a second, a small hitch in his breath that he prays Mitchell doesn’t notice. Its a second at most, yet Anders starts to believe the words he said to him the night prior 

“Must be a talent of yours”

The night of the festival comes; the place hums with actual energy for the first time since Anders set foot in it. The guests (all varying from families taking a break from visiting their loved ones, to possible investors the blond insisted on bringing so they could expand the pediatrics lounge, which both Helena and mitchell found uncharacteristic but decided not to comment on) arrive in a steady flow and are greeted by Anders, then Helena and then a few of the “star” doctors in the staff. Anders excuses himself to go check on the event itself; clutching his clipboard in one hand, coordinating the employees and cameraman with the other. The media crew he hired moves with ease through the crowd, cameras rolling left and right to capture the essence of the event, lingering on the main event, the hospital staff (or most of them, anyway.) Anders glances at his checklist and frowns.

“Where the hell is Mitchell?” he asks George, mutedly, annoyance creeping up his spine 

“Probably inside the hospital, fighting with a vending machine or something just as ridiculously ‘Mitchell’.”  He snorts while straightening his tie.

“Of course he is.” Anders rolls his eyes, muttering across the room to ‘get the locals in the shot’

“He’s probably still trying to figure out how to put on his tie” George adds with a smirk when he notices Anders genuine annoyance with his heightened sense of smell; there’s something about the blond that isn’t completely normal but George isn’t sure WHAT. The only thing he knows is its not evil, and also he can smell the pheromones wafting from him when he mentions the idea of the vampire on a tux, gross “I don’t think he’s ever worn one in his life”

The image of Mitchell, mister, yesterday’s poorly washed and wrinkled scrubs and disgusting fingerless gloves wearing an honest to god, form fitting, black tux feels strangely out of place. He definitely doesn’t seem like the tuxedo type, but the thought is…intriguing.

“I’ll send someone to find him, you guys are the only ones left to get a picture” 

George shakes his head in his nervous nature, quick to try and discourage the blonds overpowering personality. “Nah, don’t bother. He’ll show up when he shows up. And while we’re at it, maybe skip the pictures of us cleaning staff types, yeah?”

“What? why? It’s supposed to be a ‘meet the team’ kind of thing, you´re part of the team aren’t you?” Anders points at him with the clipboard as he speaks, the tone in his voice is playful, yet there’s a small menace lingering. The phrase not something he thought he´d ever heard from someone who constantly called Mitchell a “mop-boy” but he couldn’t smell anything in anders that betrayed he was lying 

“Just doesn’t seem right, does it? This is your big fancy gala. Nobody cares about a couple of guys with mops.” George looks uncomfortable for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, he tries to get Anders to understand. There’s something off about the way it all sounds, but he has no time to worry about that, he lets himself believe it’s his own guilt betraying him, making sure he remembers he called mitchell “broom boy” in front of george. He  doesn’t press. Instead, he files the thought away, already moving on to the next task. He notices the lights flicker faintly above him, just for a moment, but he’s too busy to worry; with a wave and a “let’s figure this out later” he moves on. 

By the time the crowd gathers near the stage for the opening remarks, everything seems to be running smoothly. The decorations sparkle, the people from the pizza place agreed to cater so the food smells delicious and the atmosphere feels strangely warm despite the cold.

The lights flicker again. 

Anders glances up but forces himself to shake off the unease. Everything is fine.

Then, just as he’s preparing to head backstage to start ushering people to their spots, he sees Mitchell.

The man finally steps out of the tunnel that connects the hospital to the unofficial break area, looking entirely too casual as he fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves. The tux fits him nauseatingly well, contrasting with his pushed-back black hair and the five o’clock shadow he never seems to have time to shave, it would be perfect if not for the stupid gloves that the blond figures must be glued to his hands. He catches the faint sheen of cigarette smoke lingering by his hair. 

Across the crowd, their eyes meet.

Mitchell pauses his fidgeting, his usual grin flickers into something…softer. It’s less than a second, but it strikes Anders with a force he’s not prepared for. The chatter and noise around him seem to fade, leaving only the weight of Mitchell’s gaze. His heart stumbles, his breath catching in his throat.

And then the lights go out. 

Darkness swallows the patio and the people in it, broken only by the faint glow of a few phone screens. For a heartbeat, everything is still, like people are waiting for the lights to come back on their own. Then the murmurs start, rippling through the crowd like snakes in a nest.

Anders stands frozen, clipboard slipping from his grasp as panic claws its way up his chest. This can’t be happening, if only he had been supervising instead of looking for Mitchell like an idiot the prior day…

The failure and shame feel suffocating. He tries to focus on the things he sees, to move even if it’s a step, but his breath comes in short, shallow bursts and he can’t control it. His surroundings blur into shadows and noise, his chest tightening with each passing second.

And then, through the haze, he sees Mitchell again.

The man stands a few feet away, the glow of a flashlight casting his face in soft light, more people from maintenance look for him than they do for Anders. His expression is calm as he gives short instructions of the directions of switches, his posture unhurried, like he’s completely unbothered by the chaos unfolding around him.

For a moment, He focuses on that, on him. On the quiet steadiness he exudes, as if the blackout is nothing more than a minor inconvenience, as if life itself is nothing but a thing to breeze past.

Anders takes a breath. Then another.

His chest loosens, the frantic pounding of his heart slowing to a manageable rhythm. He doesn’t even realize he’s clutching the edge of a nearby table until his fingers relax enough to let go of it.

Mitchell turns, saying something to one of the camera-man that the blond can’t hear, and that trademark grin returns to his face. It’s ridiculous how one person can seem so unaffected, but somehow, it’s enough to steady him to go for a second round.

Get it together, he tells himself.

He straightens, scanning the crowd, and makes his way to the stage, with a breath he steps up to the microphone; he taps once, twice. Nothing, of course. The blackout had taken the energy of everything non essential to the hospital. The rising echo of anxious voices and a little fantasy of helena saying “i told you so” makes his chest tighten and for a second, to give himself some room to breath or maybe out of pure desperation, he lets Bragi take over; shouting louder than he’s ever done before

 "Everyone listen and stay quiet" 

He says, his tone commanding. The effect is instant: the crowd (minus Mitchell and a very startled looking George) stills, turning toward him. In the back of the room, he catches sight of the vampire. Arms crossed, his expression changes for just a second but it’s all it takes for the blond to notice, its disappointment.

The weight of it stings, sharp and immediate, but it’s just a second, just to get people to listen, he tries to convey that in his look when he takes a deep breath, releasing Bragi who in any other night would´be taken care of everything, convinced them it had gone perfectly . When he speaks again, it’s just him. No power, no shitty poetry, no persuasion. Just him

“I heard a story from someone here,” he begins, his words laced with unmistakable anxiousness as he clings onto the image of Mitchells face to ground him “about a winter night not so long ago, when nurses and staff and kids all played with sparklers that were donated to the hospital. Back then, it was not about what was missing but about what could be seen” 

he doesn’t mention mitchells name yet they all recognize his trademark charm in it “ I think that the tradition of sparklers and playing around in the snow became quickly lost, probably we all forgot in the haze of adult life and the pressure of life.” He pulls out a sparkler from somewhere inside his jacket pocket “So, This was supposed to be a surprise but since the night calls for it; please come up to Jeremy and the rest of the team and take a sparkler! Help us light up the darkness a little while I work my best to fix this issue. Yeah?” 

A part of Anders, the really insecure one who constantly got turned down no matter how he put things, fears that people might find his little speech stupid and tedious and too ridiculous, but he sees himself being surprised with genuine enthusiasm from the attendants, quickly falling into lines to get the little lights. The sparklers catch one by one, a chain reaction of flickering light spreading through the crowd. People laugh, some waving the sparklers like children, others holding them reverently. It’s enough to allow him to take a breath out, calmly leaving instructions to his crew to stagger the lights so everyone gets a chance to participate before heading toward the hospital.The cold bite of the air gives way to the dim, slightly antiseptic warmth of the corridors. He moves quickly, not entirely sure  where exactly does he have to go to fix the lights or that is until he’s stopped dead in his tracks by a familiar, annoyingly chipper little voice 

“That was cheesy as fuck…” he finds Mitchell leaning casually against the wall. Waiting.His voice is low, a small smirk curling at his lips.

“Cheesy?” Anders manages, his voice lower than usual, trying to find his footing. A part of him hopes he heard wrong 

“yeah” The blond´s heart pounds, loud and insistent, Mitchell hears it as he speaks, softly, tilting his head. “The sparklers? The speech? All of it. 

“Yeah, well…” He tries to play off the undeniable sadness he feels that the only person he even did the stupid sparklers for finds it ‘cheesy’, whatever bite his voice could have is overpowered by the shakiness in it “It fucking worked, didn’t it?”

He’s ready to walk past the man but with the way he’s leaning against the wall he doesn’t really allow him to go through that easily, still, Mitchell doesn’t move right away from his spot leaning against the stupid wall, like most of the time. His cuffs are slightly askew like he gave up doing them, his tie hanging loose. His black hair falls messily into his eyes, but he doesn’t bother fixing it; instead he focuses dark eyes on Anders. Then, with deliberate ease, he pushes off the wall, closing the distance between them. Anders takes an instinctive step back, but there’s nowhere to go; the black haired mans is quick to close the distance between them; merely a few centimeters away, he grabs anders by the arms with no intention of hurting him, just a soft (somehow not warm at all) grip that keeps him in his place; not able to turn his face away. 

“Oh it definitely worked on all the people out there” The drop in his voice is evident, like a murmur, low and teasing and far more intimate than a hospital hall should ever be “but not as much as it did on me” 

It takes Anders a full second to understand what he means and by then Mitchell is already kissing him. It’s not rushed or messy, but deliberate, steady, and somehow still entirely overwhelming. His lips are cold but soft against Anders’ own, and for a moment, the entire world narrows down to them. The blond freezes, caught between the instinct to push him away and the pull of wanting more. His hands hover uselessly by his sides until, without thinking, he reaches out, his hands gripping Mitchell’s jacket to anchor himself. 

When he pulls back, their foreheads nearly touch, and Anders is left staring at him, breathless.

[rashimen]

I See The Light - A Zutara fan fiction

Every year a festival would be held in the fire nation, one that celebrates the culture of the fellow citizens and this year Katara got to experience it for the first time ever since Zuko became the firelord of the esteemed nation. The festival was held in the city and every year once it reached midnight, fireworks would be released into the sky and so would lanterns. It was a yearly tradition for the fire nation, using their own firebending to light these lanterns and release them into the sky. And for the first time in Zuko’s years of reign he could not, disappointingly, could not attend said festival.

The papers continuously piling up on his office desk everyday was exhausting as it is and he refused to procrastinate as he was afraid his people and the other nations’ leaders would view him as a “lazy” leader. So he continued his night on a date with his brush as he signed the papers. 

He suddenly heard a knock on the door which had caused his ears to perk up, “come in” but he immediately turned his eyes back onto the sheet of paper in front of him, not noticing the guest come in. “Sorry, am i disturbing you” he instantly recognized the voice and he turned his head up at once and found himself staring at the waterbender in front of him, wearing her traditional watertribe clothes and in her usual down up hairstyle that always had him staring. She looked beautiful. The moon illuminated her features perfectly as she slowly walked inside the room and gently closed the door behind her. It took him a while to finally find the words but the only thing that came out of his lips was her name. “Katara” she looked up from the door knob and raised a brow at him with a smile “Hm?” her gaze was suffocating so he decided to look at the wall behind her.

“What are you doing here?” 

“To visit you of course. I heard a festival was happening here so I wanted to come and see and maybe even invite you…” she trailed off, a nervous smile etched into her face as she fidgeted with her fingers, a blush plastered onto her face but not evident due to the darkness of the room. Only the window and the few candle lights around the room being the only source of the light. “But you seem busy so if you don’t want to, it's fine i can just go on my own-” “I’ll accompany you” he said almost instantly that it jolted Katara. Even Zuko, too, was blushing as ferociously as her. He had realized what had just happened and embarrassment started creeping into him. He gently rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the wooden floor below them. The awkward tension got even worse as seconds (but it felt like minutes to both of them) passed by. “Okay…Let’s go then?” Katara said as she broke the silence, “Y-yeah. I’ll just change for a sec”. Zuko then thought maybe he’ll choose to procrastinate just this once.

Zuko then changed into citizen clothing and wore a black cloak to hide his identity from his people to avoid any crowds around them. For tonight, he simply wanted to be just Zuko. 

He then went out to call Katara for they will be exiting through his balcony, the palace is too guarded and it would simply be just stupid to exit from the front gates. He found her staring at the portrait of him that was hung in his bedroom. It was a painting of him on the day of his coronation, his hair was still shorter then. Katara felt a surge of nostalgia hitting her, it had been 4 years since then and she found herself looking at it in awe, feeling proud of him for being able to make it this far with the fire nation. She had not noticed his presence from across the room until he finally spoke up to make her aware of his existence. “Can’t believe it's been 4 years” Katara jumped at the sound of his voice. He was standing right beside her, maybe a bit too close. She looked at him for a bit and noticed his slight smile. She rarely ever sees him smile, it makes her heart skip a bit. She then quickly looked away. “I can’t believe it either” she then peeked at him from her peripheral vision then reached out to put his hood down and Zuko then looked at her in curiosity. His eyes followed the movement of her hand, touching the grown locks of his hair. It wasn’t as long as Ozai’s, well, not yet but it was long enough that it touched his neck. “Did you cut your hair?” she asked subconsciously, her hand still on his hair. “Just a trim, i plan to grow it out but i kind of liked my short hair” I was afraid you wouldn’t recognize me, the words left unsaid. He seemed nervous, she noticed, so she removed her hand but she did not seem to see the slight disappointment on Zuko’s face. He quickly missed her warmth. It was silent for a bit but the noise of the festival overpowered it.

 Katara then glanced at the balcony. She looked at all the bright lights then remembered why she went to visit in the first place. She grabbed Zuko’s wrist which had brought him back to his consciousness. “Let’s go! We’re going to miss all the action!” she said with a smile. Looking at her smile made him want to smile too. Before Zuko could say anything, Katara had already pulled him towards the balcony. “Woah, Katara!” he yelped. She then let go of his wrist to stand on the edge of the balcony and started her climb towards the rooftop. “Wait, stop! I have a better idea” he called from below her. “You should've said so earlier then” she jumped down from her position and dusted the invisible dust from her skirt. “What exactly is this idea of yours?” she placed her hands on her hips and raised a brow at him. “Do you trust me?” her expression then changed into one of confusion until she was suddenly picked up by him in bridal style. She squealed at the sudden change in position and quickly wrapped her arms around Zuko’s neck. “What exactly are you doing?!” Zuko simply smirked at her under his hood. “Taking you to the festival” he then jumped up and swiftly landed on the roof then began to run as fast as he could. Jumping from roof to roof so they could arrive at the venue much faster. 

Katara just grabbed onto him like her life depended on it, afraid she would fall from how fast he was going and closed her eyes shut. She could feel the wind hitting her face so she buried her face onto Zuko’s shoulder. He smiled at her antics.

After a few minutes, Zuko jumped down in an alley and gently put Katara down. “What did you think of the ride Master Katara?” he joked. “0 out of 10.” she scowled. 

He then directed his gaze towards the bustling crowd and grabbed her wrist, an action that they seemingly kept on doing over and over again the entire time yet neither of them had felt the warmth of each other's fingers.  Like it was some forbidden rule. He then brought her out of the dark alley and into the bright light that revealed the wonders of the festival.

 Katara stood still like her feet were glued onto the ground. She gasped in amazement. The traditional fire nation music was being played by citizens with bongos while others danced to the music. Food stalls with all their cultural food, spicy and red. People were all dressed up, she had seemed to be the only foreigner attending the festival despite Katara wearing fire nation clothing, everyone could tell she was not from here. Joy was written on everyone's faces.

“Come on!” Zuko called out from next to her, waking her up from her daze. “Let’s explore the place” he held out his arm for her to hold and so she did with the biggest smile on her face as they strolled around the capital. 

They both explored each stall and checked out each and every one of them.

“Katara look! This one sells fire flakes!” Zuko pointed to one of the stalls. “I did not like those,” she grumbled.  Zuko then cocked an eyebrow at her and a smirk plastered on his face, “What’s this? Can’t handle a bit of spice?” Katara’s scowl deepened. “Are you challenging me?” “Maybe, unless you really just have such a low spice tolerance” he shrugged, simply adding fuel to the fire. “I’ll take you in on it!”, she eventually lived to regret her decision. 

Zuko immediately then bought the fire flakes, with one piece of both of their hands. “In the count of three, two, and one...” The moment he stopped counting they both tossed the piece of fire flake onto their mouths. Zuko ate it with ease while Katara’s face started flaming from how hot the flake was. The vendor quickly gave her water to which she gladly drank. Earning a chuckle from both Zuko and the vendor. “Fine. You win this one” she crossed her arms on her chest with a scowl. 

They had eventually found a stall that was selling souvenirs, the vendor was an old man but he seemed quite peaceful. Both of them were picking out souvenirs to take home with them. One that will remind them of a memory that would last a lifetime. As they were picking out which one they were going to buy, Katara felt someone tugging on her skirt. She looked down to see a child staring right at her. She smiled at the little boy then bent down so they could meet face to face. “Hello, little one” she says in that soft voice of hers. “Hi…” the boy squeaked out. Zuko peeked from behind Katara and saw the boy fidgeting on his spot and seemingly nervous and blushing, he could tell the young man was acting like this because of Katara (he’s just saying this because he’s like this too). “Is something the matter?” Katara asks but the boy shakes his head. “I want to show you something” he tugged on her finger as if to lead her somewhere. She glanced at Zuko to excuse herself and he simply waved at her. 

The little boy then eventually took her to another stall that was just across the one they were at. It had seemed that the stall belonged to the boys’ family as the boy went behind it to grab something. He eventually came out with what seemed to be water in a container. The boy then offered it to her, which she took in curiosity. “It’s supposed to be an ice sculpture that I got from when we visited the water tribe but it had melted,” he said with sadness laced onto his voice. Katara then felt bad for the little one. “It reminded me of you” the young one continued, Katara looked at him with surprise but was eventually replaced by a gentle smile. “I can help you. What did the sculpture originally look like?” the boy's eyes shimmered in excitement after hearing her offer to help. “Tui and La.” He simply said then Katara immediately got to work.

She held the container in one hand as she worked her magic in the other. With a few movements from her hand the water eventually transformed into the ice sculpture the boy had described. “Woah!! You’re a waterbender!” he shouted with glee as his face lit up from how amazed he was. Katara smiled at the little boy. “Do you want to see more tricks?” and he nodded without hesitation. 

From afar, there too, was someone looking at her with admiration. Zuko was watching her the entire time. He watched in adoration as Katara continued to show the boy some tricks to entertain them until she eventually attracted a crowd of children. His eyes showed softness, affection, and love. “Is she your girlfriend?” Zuko looked at the source of the voice, it was the old man that was selling the souvenirs. “No…” there was a pause, “She isn’t.” His expression is unreadable. “But you love her don’t you?” It was silent. Love? Does he love Katara? He turned his gaze towards her, he then looked at her stunning blue eyes and her sweet smile and he found himself catching his breath. She was the most beautiful woman he has ever met and the only woman to ever make him feel this way. Feel this vulnerable. Feel this weak. They were always so close but never touching like the sun and the moon. Always bounded by a boundary that refuses to let them be. His stares always linger a little too long to say that they were friends and always quickly looking away so he won’t lose all the willpower he had left. So to answer the old man, yes, he loves her. He loves her so much he thinks he would die without her but he feels that it is a crime to have such a goddess like her so he decides to tell him, “She doesn’t love me anyway” he says as starts to get the money from his pocket to pay for the souvenirs. “It never hurts to try. Here take this, they’re going to be releasing the lanterns soon.” he then thought about it for a bit. She’ll be leaving to go back to her homeland soon, what’s there to lose? “Yeah” he nods. He then takes the souvenirs and stuffs it into his pocket then hides the lantern inside his cloak. “Thank you sir” he then starts to run towards Katara as the kids were starting to leave one by one, getting picked up by their parents to go watch the fireworks. “Anytime, firelord” the old man whispers but Zuko did not hear him.

“Katara” he calls out to her as he walks towards her, a container on her hand that held the ice sculpture from earlier. “Oh, Zuko!” she turns her head towards him. “They’re going to be releasing the lanterns soon, and I know a spot” she looked at him with glee but her smile turned into a frown when she realized what he meant. “Are we going up again?” but before her question could be answered, Zuko had carried her once again “Hold on tight!” He jumped up once again and hopped from rooftop to rooftop until he found the spot he was referring to. 

Once they had arrived, Katara hopped down and admired the view from where they were. Zuko then followed right behind her, he then removed the hood of his cloak. He tapped her on her shoulder, “Here” on his hand was the souvenir from earlier, the logo of the fire nation. “Thank you” she breathed out, she hid it inside her pocket. Katara rested her arms on the railing and gazed down at the noise below her.

 Zuko found himself staring at her again and opened his mouth to say something to break the silence but shut his lips to search for the right words to say. He then looked down at his arms that were resting on the same railing. Their elbows lightly brushing each other. “You look beautiful by the way” his voice a little above a whisper but Katara heard it loud and clear, she could feel her cheeks turning red. “Oh! Um…thank you. You look good too” Katara mentally cursed at herself at her choice of words. No one spoke for a bit, the constant silence was always so suffocating. 

Zuko closed his eyes and breathed in and out, he turned to Katara, “I-” they said in unison. “No, you first!” they said at the same time. “No, you” Katara beated him to it, leaving Zuko no choice but to say what he was planning to say first. “I…” he trailed but before he could continue he was cut off by the loud footsteps of the people below them who seemed to be running towards the area where the lanterns were going to be released into the sky. Both of them looked down to find families and couples who seemed to be gathering with a lantern in hand. One by one each of them lit up their lanterns and released them into the sky, the beautiful lanterns’ bright light that seemed to stand out in the night sky.

Zuko was reminded about the lantern that the old man gave him earlier and he decided to take a peek inside his cloak to see if it was still there, he sighed in relief as it still was in his cloak and intact. 

He turned his gaze towards Katara and saw that she was staring into the brightly lit night sky with the shiniest eyes and the brightest smile, bright enough to beat the lit up lanterns. He held his stare on her, hoping she wouldn’t notice the way he was looking at her. It was at that moment he realized, if he was never firelord he would not hesitate to take his chances with her. He would court her and if she would accept him, he would go anywhere she wants to go. He wouldn’t have minded a simple life with her. Maybe a small house in a small village somewhere. She was worth every sacrifice. He unconsciously touched his chest, the scar that has now forever embedded him ever since that day. He curled his fingers onto the robe. Maybe in another universe, but for now this’ll just have to make do. 

He took the lantern from his cloak as he faced Katara completely with the lantern at hand. She had seemed to notice him coming closer and turned to face him, she saw his eyes drop down and saw the unlit lantern. “Zuko?” He slightly extended his arms to offer it to her and she took it from him, their hands lightly brushing. He put up his index finger and lit up a small fire and placed it on the candle inside the lantern. He placed a hand at one side of the lantern then turned to her. “Ready?” he asks, and her lips form into a smile. 

They released the lantern together, the now lit up lantern joined the crowd as it flew into the night sky. Katara’s eyes never wavered from their lantern but Zuko’s did, his eyes now looking at her once again. He then looked down onto his hand and flexed it as he closed his eyes. He then opened his eyes once again with a glint of determination evident on it. He hesitated but eventually he placed a hand on Katara’s hand, his thumb brushing her palm. Katara looked at him due to the sudden contact and found him looking at her with those golden brown eyes that held something deeper, an emotion that she could not identify. She turned her body towards him as they locked eyes, a language that only both of them knew of.

Zuko intertwined his fingers with hers and took a small step closer, lips so close that there was barely any air between them left, so close that they could feel the warmth of each other's breaths. Zuko brought up his free hand and caressed Katara’s cheek. She leaned towards his touch, resting her cheek on his hand. As fireworks blew into the sky, the cheers of the people began to fade away. It was as if it was only the two of them in the universe at the moment as Zuko slowly leaned closer to close the distance between them. His lips brushing hers, still so hesitant to kiss her, waiting for her to make any movement that would be a sign that she didn’t want to do this. But she didn’t. So he didn’t hold back. His lips landed on hers as they kissed for what felt like an eternity. His fiery passion combined with her sweet kindness. They only pulled away to catch their breath as they were starting to run out of oxygen. Zuko rested his forehead on hers. They closed their eyes to savor the moment. They both open their eyes and their gaze locked onto each other once again.

“I love you” he whispered but because of their close proximity it was loud enough for Katara to hear.

“I love you too” they both smile as they allow themselves to get lost in the moment.

It was the night that started many beginnings for them, many arguments and complications but they always found each other in the end. No matter what challenges they faced in life they always faced them together. Together as Zuko and Katara.

All at once, everything is different

Now that i see you

Word count: 3k

[trexrambling]

Broken Heels (III / III)

Request: “There's a protective Dean and Sam some kind of thing. They're friends with fem!reader, a shy and graceful girl. A long time ago the brothers took her in and a deep friendship was born. She only helps with research because she suffers from a heart failure, which leads to her being often dizzy nauseated and breathless. The brother care for her and always keep an eye out on her. Dean is secretly in love with her and vice versa. But neither of them admits it. One night Dean brings home some of his flings and the girl is really cruel to the reader.... Reader spirals into a rabbit hole, taking the things the bitch said to her to heart.... And shit hits the fan?! Some angst, drama and fluff, protective Winchesters.” - by anon

Word Count: 2,120

Warnings: language, negative self-talk, heated/arguing conversation, angst, fluff

A/N: I broke this request into two three parts because it ended up being much longer than expected. This last part took me forever to finish, still not sure I love how it turned out but here it is. No beta, all mistakes are mine, please message me if you see any! Watercolor heart from the header image credit.

(Read Part 1) (Read Part 2)

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You’re not really sure where he’s driving you, because it’s not back to the town you were hunting in, and it’s not towards home, either. It feels aimless, like he’s picking turns at random for the sake of the familiarness of being behind the wheel, like it’s the only thing that’s grounding him right now. The sun has made its venture into the sky, climbing with each passing minute and painting the wisps of clouds in orange and pink. The quiet in the car is becoming unbearable, the inevitable conversation that’s about to take place encroaching with each passing second.

You decide to just go for it, like that first jump into a cold pool. Just get it over with. It’s either that or tuck and roll out the passenger door. Though…the latter option might prove to be less painful when all is said and done.

“So…” you start quietly, “where’s Sam?”

“Oh, Sam’s still working on the case.” Every word is wrapped in frustration. His jaw is tight, fingers gripping the wheel with more force than necessary. You don’t have to check for a speed limit sign to know that he’s exceeding it.

“You left Sam?”

In a split second you find yourself almost relocated to the floorboards of the car, the lap belt cutting into your waist the only thing keeping you from sliding off the seat as Dean slams on the brakes. You manage to catch the upper half of your body weight with a hand on the dash, eyes wide as he veers off the side of the road and continues right on into the neighboring grassy field. The Impala’s wheels find a small rut, bumps in and out of it, the frame vibrating from the uneven ground. He goes a few more feet and then comes to a complete halt, throws the gears into park and shuts off the engine. You quickly undo the seatbelt to rub your stomach.

“Dean, what the hell-”

But he’s already opened his door and is exiting the vehicle, the loud slam of it shutting making you flinch. You watch him through the windshield as he walks a short distance into the field, then he stops and just stands there with his hands in his jacket pockets, his back to you.

You stay in your seat, staring at him, a bit stunned. You’ve known Dean for years, and in that time you’ve seen his rough edges, watched him dissolve into anger that would leave him unable to speak, observed his elated highs alongside the dismal lows. But you’ve never seen him like this… At least, not with you. Not because of you.

A steady breeze is blowing the tall, spring wildflowers around his legs, pushing small tufts of his hair in all directions. His stiff posture is a direct contrast to the serenity around him; a tranquil view from a distance that’s lacking all of its peace up close.

“Ah, screw it,” you mutter to yourself. You pop your door open and step out, the immediate onslaught of wind attacking your hair as you walk across the grass to stand beside him. You’re not really sure how you feel, not sure what to think. A short hour ago you’d been on a bus, trying to get as far away from him as possible. And now…

“Alright, spill. What’s going on with you?”

He turns sharply, fire in his eyes. “With me? What’s going on with me? Are you serious right now?”

He wants to pick a fight, to throw everything that’s built up out into the open, and part of you does, too. You fold your arms, meet his glare with a steady one of your own. “Yes, with you. How could you leave Sam to work a case by himself?”

Air snorts out of his nose in disbelief. “I left the case? Are we forgetting that you’re the one who just up and hopped a bus in the middle of the night? Without saying anything?”

“I texted Sam.”

“Oh, you texted Sam. Of course. My bad.”

You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. “You literally just drove god knows how many miles and tried to run a bus off the road, and you’re acting like I’m the crazy one. I have every right to go wherever I damn well choose to. I’m not a child, Dean, I don’t need to get permission from you.”

“You didn’t even pick up your phone, Y/N. I’ve been calling you for hours, and I just kept getting your voicemail. What was I supposed to do, supposed to think? Since when do we not talk to each other? What the hell happened?”

His voice has progressively gotten louder with each question, and though he’s not quite yelling, the harshness has you blinking back an unanticipated bout of tears. Your mood shifts, the fight leaving you as doubt and dejection take its place.

Dean notices the change, and his eyes lose some of their sharpness. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck and lets out a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just don’t understand much of anything that’s been happening the past few hours. Why did you take off? Why did you just leave us like that?”

You wrap your arms tightly around your midsection, fixate on the grass beneath your feet, and manage to softly say -

“Do you… do you really not know?”

He doesn’t say anything, which is ten times worse than all of the worst possible things you’re imagining he could say. You gnaw on your lower lip, anxiety building with each second that he doesn’t speak. You can’t take it anymore, can’t take this, whatever this is. So, like a broken dam, you open your mouth and let it all flood out.

“I know that we’re not equals. I know I could never hold my own on a hunt with you. Hell, I proved that last month, didn’t I? And you deserve someone who can have your back, someone who can actually help you when the time comes. I know you guys say I help, but that’s different. It’s reading lore and making lasagna, and anyone can do that. And to top it all off, I’m an absolute mess. I cough up blood and I can’t walk a mile without feeling like I'm going to faint. I’m like this broken thing, this deadweight that you keep dragging along with you for some reason. And I don’t get it. I really don’t understand why I’m still here, because…because you don’t need me.”

He’s still not saying anything. You give in to the weakness in your knees and sink down onto the ground, tugging your jacket around you and staring out at the borderline of trees in the distance as your fingers absentmindedly pick at the surrounding grass and flower stems.

“And then I was waiting in your room for you to come back from the bar, and instead that woman showed up. And she was just-” you chuckle dryly- “so delightful, by the way. A real charmer. And you didn’t ask her to leave, so I left. I got out of your way. And I just… I couldn't stay, Dean. Don’t you get that?”

He joins you on the ground, close but not quite touching you. You dare to glance at him from the corner of your eye, surprised by the solemness his features carry.

“You don’t-” he clears his throat, digs his fingers into the dirt- “you don’t really want me, Y/N. Not the way you think you do.”

You turn your head sideways, rest your ear on your bent knee so you can look at him. He avoids your gaze, but keeps talking.

“That girl…she’s easy. Someone I can lie to when she asks me questions, that I can be a completely different person for. It’s just an escape, a night that doesn’t matter because I’ll never have to see her again, never have to think about her again, worry about her again.”

Your face tightens. “And you want that?”

“It’s been pointless to want anything else. To let myself want something else. This life…it’s not safe to let yourself get close to anyone.”

“Well…sometimes you can’t help it. Sometimes it just happens.”

He looks at you then, the right corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “Yeah. Yeah it does.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, and then in one swift motion his arm goes up and around your shoulders, firmly scooping you into his side. You shuffle close and willingly lean in, resting your head in the crook of his neck. One of his hands stays wrapped around your arm, the other finding yours in your lap. A deep sigh leaves your body with the contact, the pent up tension you’d been carrying since last night dissolving with his touch.

“You’re the farthest thing from broken, you know,” he says softly. “And don’t you ever let me hear you say that we don’t need you. Sam and I are damn lucky to have you.”

“It doesn't always feel that way,” you whisper. “I still feel like I’m broken all the time. And not just because of my heart problems, but because of everything that’s happened to me, every mistake I’ve made, all the things I want to do, want to change… but I just can’t ever seem to get there.”

“I get that,” Dean says, giving you a small squeeze. “I’ve been there. But if I’ve learned anything, from Sam or Cas or anyone else in our lives, it’s that the broken heals. You just have to be willing to let it.”

You smile faintly, tilt your head up to look at him.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for chasing me down. Literally.”

He meets your eyes, his face serious. “I didn’t sleep with her, you know.”

Your blink, surprised. “Okay…why not?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, but doesn’t answer.

You squeeze his hand. “You know, you deserve to be with someone you can fully be yourself with. Someone you can talk to without having to fabricate your life, someone that actually gets it. And it may not be easier, but…I think it might be worth it.”

His features change then, and he’s suddenly looking at you in a way that takes you back to a flour filled kitchen, with mixing bowls and a pie waiting on the counter while he’s standing over you, your hand in his, heat and tension and a deep underlying desire filling the small space between. You swallow deeply, take in a shaky breath through your nose.

“Dean-”

His lips on yours cut you off, no hesitation as he tilts your chin up with his hand to draw your face closer. Warm fingertips trail down your cheek and then tangle in your hair as he gently pulls at your bottom lip. It’s a single, long, perfect kiss, and you can’t breathe properly, but you don’t really want to. He pulls away, kisses you lightly again, once, twice. And your head is spinning and your breathing is ragged and you can feel a goofy grin stretched wide across your face.

“You good?”

You nod, breathless, still smiling. You’re not sure if you can stop at this point. You’ve wanted this for the longest time, wanted him. And now that it’s happening, you still can’t believe that it’s real. It feels like a dream you never want to wake up from.

Dean releases his hold on you and stands up, snapping you from the moment. He stretches his hand out, a smile on his face. “Ready to go?”

You raise your eyebrows, still trying to collect yourself. “Go? Go where?”

Your smile fades, uncertainty underlying the pure flood of euphoria you’d just experienced. Were things already back to normal? Just like that? Did you imagine the last few minutes? Did the bus you were on crash, and you’re actually in a coma?

He’s smiling at you, waiting expectantly, and your face flushes from embarrassment. You grasp his hand, and he effortlessly pulls you to your feet. He doesn’t give you a chance to step away, though. He keeps a firm hold on your hand and tugs you back into him. Toe to toe, your chest flush against his, he cups the side of your face, erasing any of the doubt as he says -

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

And then he’s kissing you again, firmly holding you tight against him while he steals the breath from your lungs.

xxxxxxxxxx

Tags: @iprobablyshipit91​ @senjoritanana​ @amythyststorm33​ @morgiex​ @sushiumex​ @akshi8278​

^Thank you for reading! You guys and your feedback are the reason I kept writing this one :) 

[ariaflow]

"Worth the wait" Kokushibo x reader Modern AU Slow Smut

I've been having this draft for over a week 😭 Hope you enjoy it

Warning: Oral sex both receive with the 69 position, another oral sex but f. receiving, vaginal sex, fingering, cock warming, and mention of masturbation

It's only been a month since you married your husband, Kokushibo. You two still hadn't done your wedding due to unforeseen circumstances at work. You could tell he was frustrated at the sudden call on his phone when he growled and clenched his fist that day. Your husband does return home, but seems exhausted every time, so you hold back the thought of asking.

You've waited patiently for the right time to arrive hoping that he has something planned for you both. Today, was a day like any other, Kokushibo coming back from work, but something seems different than usual. He seems to be more excited, eager, and a tint of lust as well. You ask in concern for your husband,

"Babe, are you okay? You started acting strange when you arrived home." He smiles and responds,

"My boss finally let me have a vacation, and you know what that means? We can finally have our wedding night at last!" Your eyes widen,

"Oh, I'm so excited! Where are we going for our wedding night?"

"Luckily my boss already booked us a hotel in Italy." You smile and pull him in a passionate kiss making him groan in the kiss.

"Mmm~ baby, don't make me so eager when we're not even at our hotel." You look at him with your doe eyes,

"What do you mean, baby?" He sighs and runs a hand through his silky hair.

"You know how easy it is for me to get hard just by your touch, even a kiss is enough to get me the slightest hard. Please don't temp me when we haven't started packing." Your eyes widen as you notice that slight sign of his hard cark trying to break free from his pants and you blush then back away.

"Oh... sorry." He sighs in relief and tells you that that he will take a shower and start packing after that along with the fact that your husband's boss already booked first class tickets for the both of you. You smile and walk to your room and start packing your belongings while your husband takes a shower.

During the time you were packing your stuff and help pack a little of his, the sounds of the water in the shower continue to echo through your mind casing dirty thoughts to form in your mind making you blush once again. Once the shower was turned off, Kokushibo opens the door revealing him in just a towel around his waist.

"Baby, are you done packing?"

"Yeah, just finished, and I even packed your stuff too." He pecks you on the cheek.

"Thanks darling, you're the best." I kiss him back and he gets dressed while you take a shower this time. You turn on the water after you lock the door and start undressing. Once the bath water was warm, you decide to unlock the door since it was just your husband and enter the bath.

After a couple of minutes, you drain the tub and put on a bath robe. You go back to the bedroom and get ready to leave for the airport. You and your husband grab your bags and drive to the airport.

After your flight landed, you both exit the plane and take a taxi to your hotel reservation. Kokushibo shows the attendant the reservations and she bows telling you which floor and room you will be staying with your husband.

And as it's now late you change into your night wear. You start to get suspicious when he doesn't do the same thing, but you tease him instead and enter the bathroom and change into a red lace set of lingerie and put your night gown over it covering the secret surprise for your husband. After going back to the bedroom, you sit on the bed but get concerned as you see your husband panting and groaning so you put on hand on his shoulder.

"Michikatsu, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Hearing you calling him by his true name almost broke the last string and his groans got heavier.

"Ugh Uhn. Get back, I don't want to hurt you the first day we come here." You hold his face with both hands and reassure him,

"I know you wouldn't do that to me on purpose, so please don't worry about me." You let out a gentle smile making sure he understands your words. He takes a deep breath and nods but then quickly pushes you down on the bed and removes your robe greeting him with a seductive surprise as you notice the hardness in his pants as he groans and strokes the cock beneath his pants.

"Uhn~ Darling, you're testing me here. You leave me with no choice." And with that, he quickly takes off his clothes shortly after, leaving him bare. He quickly tears off your lingerie and fingers your pussy from behind.

"Uhn~ Ahn~ Ah~"

"Shit, you're so fucking wet for me already. Keep those juices coming." He pushes his fingers deeper into your sobbing pussy and thrusts in and out making your moans erotic.

"Ahn~! AH~ Keep going~!" As he continues fingering your pussy, your moans and pants get louder by the second. He then thrusts his two fingers deeper in your pussy, to your g-spot making you cum on his fingers.

"AHN~!" Squirt.

You pant heavily and pulls his fingers out and licks them clean.

"Stroke my cock. Do it." You shyly nod and start stroking his cock.

"Mmm~ Ah~ keep going~." You move your hands higher to stroke the tip making him moan,

"Ah~ you don't know how many times I jerked off to the thought of me finally being able to fuck you~ Uhn~ you're gonna make me cum~! He then quickly aligns his hard cock with your pussy making sure he didn't cum on your hand. After aligning his cock, he thrusts inside, the tip reaching your cunt.

"Ahn~!" The sounds of skin slapping against you echoed through the room as you felt your release coming, your pussy clenching his cock on a vice grip.

Slam. "Ahn~!" squirt

Slam again "Uhn~!" squirt

After you both came, he let you catch your breath for a couple minutes before suggesting something.

"Baby, will you let me taste you? Please I'm starving~" You notice that his eyes show pure lust and hunger in those red eyes of his, so you sigh and groan.

"Fine." His soft smile is short lasting as it's replaced by heavy pants from his mouth. He immediately spreads your legs wide making you gasp but was soon replaced by a moan as he licks your wet pussy folds up and down slowly.

"Uhn~ Ah~" He then pushes his head deeper into your pussy sucking and flicking your clit back and forth.

"AHN~! AH~! Katsu~!" You push his head deeper into your pussy hoping that he'll be to reach your g-spot, and he did. Immediately. His tongue pushes through your cunt

"Ahn~!"

And reaches your g-spot.

"AHN~! AH~! UHN~!" His tongue continues flicking and fondling your g-spot building up that syrupy feeling in your stomach.

"AHN~! Katsu! I'm gonna cum!" You pant heavily while speaking.

"You can see the drool coming down his face as he continues feasting on your pussy, his drool falling to your pussy, adding more pleasure to the sensation.

Suck. "UHN~!" Squirt

Lick. "AHN!" Squirt

Suck. "AH~!" Squirt again.

You pant heavily trying your catch your breath after your third orgasm.

"There's one more thing I want to do, baby. Can you sit on my face for me?" You blush at his words and ask,

"W-why are you asking that?"

"Just do it please." You hesitantly nod and move your pussy to his face as you groan feeling his breath fan your pussy.

"Mmm~" His hand then with a slight tightness to his grip your thighs.

"Darling, the last thing we're doing is 69." You blush and realize the words he uttered from his mouth. "Oh....ok." You lean forward aligning your mouth with his hard cock.

He then gives your ass a gentle squeeze telling you that he's going to start. You push your head into his cock and he as well, start licking your pussy up and down and you both moan and groan. After a long session of tongue fucking each other, you squirt in each other's mouth breathing heavily.

After cleaning up you both put on your night wear and head to bed.

The End

[bunnyboo77]

Short Story ( Final Destination )

Warning (Blood, Hunting, Blood, Death and Gore)

The night was late and yet the sound of the city never ceased with the noise of life. All around cars honking, people yelling, and the little humming of neon signs filled the air. Claudia, who had just left, after working late at her job, fast paced down the street. Though there was noise there were no bodies around, which is strange as it always bumping into someone or being insulted. Cursing under her breath as she made her way down the tiled steps to the subway, she kept beating herself up to insist on staying late. Her decision was completely voluntary and though she couldn't bring herself to say no to Simon, his soft brown eyes and charming smile hypnotized her into doing whatever he wanted that included picking up his slack.

Clicking of black leather heels against the tiled hall echoed as she made her way to the platform. Stale smells of urine and cheap alcohol invaded her nose and made her stop to slightly vomit in her mouth. Such a disgusting place she thought but unfortunately there were no taxis around and quite frankly she was too annoyed to wait around for one to drive her way. Simon, who was her employer, asked her to stay late with him thinking she had finally won him over with her sweet gestures of coffee every morning and sweet buns or even the low number she wore to work one day was shattered the minute she stepped in his office. Before putting her hand on the doorknob faint sounds of voices could be heard from his office

“don't worry sweetheart I'll be home soon.”

“I promise I won't stay late I just have to finish something up here.”

“I love you.”

Those 3 little words are what broke Claudia, it wasn't just those words but his whole tone, the soft sweetness of his mellowed voice. “I'm an idiot”. Rushing back to her cubicle she grabbed her bag and coat and made her way to the lift before he could talk or see her. All the while the buttons made their way down the floors, she continues to think why she ever bend over backwards for a pathetic scumbag like Simon. She didn't even care if he came in the next day and asked why she left after agreeing to stay behind. Quite frankly she couldn't give a rat ass about a good excuse for him, she simply chalked it up to woman's problems.

As she made her way onto the platform the last train just had pulled out, groaning in frustration she then began stating “ shit, shit, shit” without thinking if there was anyone else around. Luckily that night the platform was eerily quiet, no body of both human nor rodents could be seen or heard. Claudia knew the trains ran all night, so it wasn't going to be her last, the only problem was the next one was in half an hour. Contemplating whether to walk home or simply stand out in the cold waiting by chance if a taxi would show up. At this stage of the night, she was willing to wait half an hour for a train, so she took a seat on one of the empty metal chairs against the wall. Though it appeared clean she was not all convinced so taking out one of her handy wet wipes she gave it a quick clean before parking her ass and waiting.

Resting her head in her hand she didn't know what came over her but a sudden heaviness in her eyes brought her into a short yet sweet sleep. Feeling head dripping down she was almost in a slumber when something unexpectedly woke her up. Boots, hard heavy boots could be heard echoing down the hall. Normally it wouldn't have bothered her but something about their pace unnerved her, slowly she started to hear them make their way down the hall and then out of nowhere they began to pace themselves quicker and then almost like in a Sprint-like motion. Turning your head to the only entrance to the platform (other than the guards emergency exit) she waited patiently as the boots got closer to the platform wanted to know what kind of person was in such a rush that they sounded like they were running on all fours.

Clutching her bag close to her chest, she took her nails into the leather as she could feel the pounding in her chest. Why was this sudden appearance of another person making her feel uneasy was it the fact that was late at night or was it the fact that she was all alone on a platform and her imagination began to play tricks on her, whatever it was its sparked her paranoia. Digging inside her bag she wanted to be prepared even if it was just her mind, she took out her pepper spray and was ready to act if it came down to it. Knowing it wasn't a long hallway darling she didn't have long she stood up an aimed her pepper spray but as the sound was about to reach the platform no body appeared.

Waiting for what seemed like hours she then began to pluck up the courage and peek around the corner. She took it step by step slowly as she predicted this body who owned these pair of boots was waiting around the corner and wanted to jump her at a surprise. Inhaling deeply, she peeked her head around the corner and surprisingly there was no body just the grimy-looking hallway with the above lights that were flickering on and off. Trying to rationalize the whole scene she chalked it up to her mind playing tricks on her as it had been a long day, and she was quite tired.

Just then a train approached the platform, and a great sigh of relief escaped her body as she was fondly about to head home. As the door was open Claudia Hastily made her way onto the train and took a seat away from the door. The raspy voice over the intercom announced the closing of the doors and with it the train took off. The train, though large, didn't seem to have another person as a passenger, quite odd she did not think much of it. Travelling for a few minutes the train then abruptly halted, throwing Claudia forward on her seat. As the train stopped the intercom turned back on instead of the high pitch full voice that was normally broadcast an almost animalistic sound took its place. It frightened Claudia so much that she stood up and made her way to the back of the train hoping to find someone or at least open the emergency door to get back to the platform.

About to leave her carriage, something made her turn around though she wished she never gave in to this inkling. The doors were seen through what she witnessed was delights to the top carriage turning off and with the darkness came a pair of white eyes. A feeling inside of her told her to get off the train to break the glass if she needed to but she had to get off the train. Panicking, she ran down the carriages, finding not a soul but instead the darkness continued to follow her and with the appearance of the white eye came with it the sound of the heavy boot she heard earlier on the platform. Not wanting to stay any longer she got to the last carriage and tried pulling on the emergency door trying with all her might it would not budge. As panic set into her chest, she turned around and saw that the eyes had stopped the carriage before hers. The eyes himself reminded her of jackdaws, those small little birds they felt as though they were studying every inch of her.

Taking her heel, she managed to break the glass but had cut herself in the process of unlocking the door she was about to jump onto the rail lines but turned back for one more look. The eyes they had vanished and the lights all around turned back on in the previous carriages. Feeling the train move she did not know if it was safe to return or to simply jump. Unfortunately, she did not have time to think before a figure jumped through the emergency door and pinned down Claudia.

The last thing she saw was the pair of white eyes staring back at her with the pale complexions of a creature with teeth small yet sharp plunging into her neck. The ripping of flash along with the accompanying of growls and animal covered up the ear pierced screams of Claudia.

The train stopped at the next platform and waiting for it were two people waiting patiently accompanied by plastic bags and a mop. The doors opened and with it presented a freshly coated masterpiece. Dark Crimson blood stained the walls of the carriage still oozing in heavy droplets, pieces of organs draped the railings hung like party banners all the way down. Walking out of the carriage the person who created this mess dragged with him the upper half of Claudia’s body, her face permanently scarred with fear, flesh and bone still visible from her ripped torso, so you dragged her along onto the vacant platform.

“You could have made this kill a lot cleaner than it had to be this is going to take all night to clean” stranger number one set as he groaned in annoyance in the aftermath.

“I didn't feel like snapping her neck I wanted the thrill of the hunt I wanted to feel her heart beat her panic her fear it makes the blood ever so sweeter” the white eyes man spoke swiping away the blood from around his lips.

“Stop bickering and let's get this over with. This time you saved some flash” stranger number two spoke.

“What can I say Big Brother always provides for his family.”

[theblackcatwitch]

The second chance

~ dean Winchester

Warnings miscarriage abuse Angst and fluff and it has a happy ending use of drugs The main characters name is Melinda

Word count: 5700

I have not checked for mistakes

Finding his dad was more and more difficult with every passing day. When his phone buzzed on the table of that motel room, Dean lunged forward, hoping it was him --- but the contact name read Melinda.

She had been Dean's last long term girlfriend, and they hadn't talked since Dean had left. A cocky smirk made its way to Dean's lips, and he picked up. "Hey there, gorgeous. How can I help you, huh?" Dean answered, as Sam raised his eyebrow at him from the motel bed. “Dean I need your help”

Taken aback for a second, Deans where my computer smirk vanishes. "Are you okay? What happened, mel ?" Dean asked, shifting his focus completely. Sam silently perked up, concern in his eyes as well.

“I broke up with him and he beat me up. I have broken ribs and a broken arm plus he shot me in my leg. I'm Still In the apartment” Silence fell as Dean processed the information. His face darkened from concern to anger.

Dean tried to maintain a calm tone, but he was already getting his boots on. Silence fell as Dean processed the information. His face darkened from concern to anger. "Give me the address, sweetheart." Dean tried to maintain a calm tone, but he was already getting his boots on. “Our old apartment “ Dean nods, even though Melinda can't see it.

"I'm on my way." Stay safe, don't do anything stupid, okay?" Dean gets up, looking at Sam as he grabs the motel key, and starts walking towards the door. Sam gets up as well, grabbing something from his pocket and joining his brother. "See you soon." Dean hung up, grabbing his jacket and the keys for the impala. He threw the keys to Sam, who caught them effortlessly. "You're driving. "Fast."

Dean instructed, opening the passenger door and getting in. Sam nods, getting in the driver's seat. He starts the impala, quickly getting out of the tiny parking lot. They're driving through town, the streets deserted at this hour. Dean anxiously looks out the window, both wanting to be there quickly and also dreading what he might find.

He glances at his younger brother, noticing his concentrated gaze on the road. A few minutes pass in agonizing silence. Sam eventually says "She'll be alright, Dean. Mel is tough, I'm sure she'll be fine." Dean just nods, though he wasn't so sure. Sam's right, Melinda is one of the toughest people he knows and has been through a lot. Yet, it pains him to think of her all beaten up and injured. "I know, Sammy. Doesn't make me worry any less."

Dean says, sounding slightly irritated. He was already on edge, and the lack of anything to do only made it worse. Suddenly, they turn a corner, and Dean's eyes widen as he sees the apartment complex at a distance. Sam continues towards it, speeding up just a little. The Impala stops in front of the apartment complex, and before it has even really come to a halt, Dean jumps out of the car. He scans the area, looking for any sign of Melinda,

but seeing nothing immediately. Sam exits the car as well, looking almost as anxious as his older brother. Just as he's about to make his way into the apartment building, footsteps ring through the otherwise silent night and a figure appears. "Dean!" Melinda calls out, her voice pained and raspy. She's leaning heavily on her uninjured leg, arms around her own waist as she walks. The sight of her bruised face makes Dean's blood boil "Jesus Christ, Melinda." Disregarding her protest, Dean reaches her in three strides, immediately pulling her into his arms. He runs a hand through her hair,

taking in her battered appearance and broken arm. "You're alright. I'm here now, everything's gonna be fine." His heart aches just looking at her. Seeing her hurt like this is breaking something inside him. But Dean knows he has to stay strong, for her. "Let's get inside, okay?" he gently prompts, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her towards the apartment. Sam follows close behind,

a frown marring his face as he checks out Mel's injuries. Okay Dean leads her into the apartment, and into the living room. He leads her to the couch, and slowly helps her sit down, making sure she's as comfortable as possible. Once she's sitting, he kneels in front of her. Sam comes over as well, sitting on the edge of the coffee table as Dean starts asking questions. "How bad are your injuries?" “Bad it hurts every time I take a breath” Sam and Dean

exchange a worried glance before Sam asks, "That means your ribs are probably broken." Dean turns his attention back to Melinda. "Okay. I know it's gotta hurt, sweetheart, but I need you to take a deep breath for me. Sam helps her get into a slightly more upright position, while Dean observes her carefully, trying to see how much pain she's in. "Okay, try to take a deep breath for me, okay? And tell me when it hurts."

He says gently. I do as he says, and it hurts immediately Dean gently grabs her good hand, trying to reassure her. "Okay, stop. That should be about as much as you can do." He says. He looks at Sam, silently asking if they should check the ribs. Sam nods. They'll have to assess how bad the damage is.Tears well in my eyes Dean looks back at her,

and the sight of her tears makes his heart clench. He squeezes her hand and gives her a small smile."Try not to cry, baby. This is gonna hurt, but we gotta check, alright?" He asks, his voice gentle. I know "Okay." Sam moves a bit closer, preparing to gently check the ribs. He looks at her apologetically. "This might hurt a bit. "I'm sorry, Mel."

“I know wait I need you to go get the white powder that’s in my closet” Confused, Dean raises an eyebrow. "White powder? Baby, are you using drugs?" He asks, sounding both surprised and worried. “It’s the only way to stop the pain every time he beats me” Dean looks angry again, his jaw setting tightly. "He... he's been beating you for a while, hasn't he?"

He asks, even though he already knows the answer. “Yes please go get it before Sam examines me I need to make sure the pain isn’t as bad” Against his better judgment, Dean sighs and gets up, walking to her closet and pulling open the doors. He spots a small bag of powder in the lower drawer, and grabs it.

“Thank you do I line out three lines” Alarm bells go off in Dean's head at her request, but he knows he can't deny her. He brings the powder back to her and sets it on the coffee table in front of her. "You're taking that now?" He asks quietly. Yes, the way she just stated the fact, so nonchalantly, broke his heart. He was angry and worried and hurt, and the only thing he

can think of holding her in his arms. Sam watches silently, worry etched on his face. “Fuck OK go ahead” He sighs again, picking up the powder and taking out a credit card from his pocket, moving it to form three equally thick lines. He hands it to her. Meanwhile, Sam gently starts inspecting her broken ribs, as careful as he can. He pushes against the area lightly, trying to see how broken they Fuck Sam's fingers find a break in her ribcage,

making her gasp in pain. "Sorry, Mel. I know, I know... I just need to check how bad it is." Sam is already apologizing, eyes full of guilt and worry. Dean sits beside her on the couch, trying to distract her from the pain. I do all three lines before Sam pushes on my ribs again. Dean watches her intently, wanting to stop her, and yet unable to look away. He grabs her good hand and laces their fingers. "How bad is it?"

He asks Sam, keeping his gaze on Melinda. “Not as bad now” Sam nods, pulling his hands back. "It's not as bad as I thought. I think I can set your ribs, but it's still gonna hurt a lot." He says, looking at her apologetically again. “Dean, I have a joint. Can you go get that and I also have a Jack Daniels white beside it ""Baby, I don't know about that..." Dean starts.

Her request doesn't sit right with him. Though, at the same time, he knows she needs it to get through the pain of getting her ribs set… Sam looks at him, waiting. “OK, it’s either that or I scream as he sets them I used to do it myself and normally I would get so high out of my mind they would pop back in place by Me just walking into a door”

Letting out a breath, Dean nods. "I'll go get it." He gets up to look for the stuff she requested, and quickly finds it. Grabbing the pack and the bottle, he returns to the living room and sits next to her again.Thank you He puts the joint in her mouth, and holds the bottle to her lips so she can take a mouthful. "Lean back and relax." He instructs, and she does. He looks at Sam. "Set them now, man. I don't want her in any more pain longer than necessary." I let out the loudest scream, and I can literally hear the neighbors waking up.

Dean tries his best to keep her still, but it's hard since she's in so much pain. He gently holds her shoulders, keeping her from moving too much. "It's okay, baby. I know it hurts. You're doing so good. Just hold on a bit more." He tries to comfort her, the sound of her in pain tearing at his heartstrings.”You gotta get me to Bobby’s” "I know. And we will, baby. But first, I wanna take care of you. Can you stand?"

He asks. She's got a broken leg after all, and he knows it'll only be more painful for her to walk."Okay." Dean gets up, putting an arm around her waist to support her, and helps her get to her feet. Sam quickly stands up as well, on the other side of her to provide support as well. The three of them make their way out of the apartment, slowly

and carefully. Sam holds the door as Dean helps Melinda out and into the impala. He helps her into the back seat, making sure she's as comfortable as possible. "You're one tough girl, you know that?" Dean said, an affectionate smile on his face. He glances ahead, where Sam is now getting into the driver seat. "It's gonna be okay now, alright? We'll get you to Bobby and you can rest and heal. I promise." Dean grabs her good hand and

squeezes it gently. Thank you "Of course, sweetheart. I'm always gonna be there for you." His voice is gentle. Meanwhile, Sam has started the car and drives out of the parking lot, heading towards Bobby's old house. We arrive at Bobby’s house. I immediately go out of the car Bobby you have my back up Coke, right Bobby's already standing in the doorway, watching as the impala pulls up and Melinda gets out. He immediately rolls his eyes. "I do. I always do, you idiot!" He says, though his words are caring rather than admonishing. Good I need a new name otherwise he’s gonna find me As soon as she finishes, Bobby raises an eyebrow. "What did you do this time?" He asks gruffly, but with a hint of concern. He notices the way Dean is hovering closely by her, and sees the extent of her injuries. I didn’t do anything I was

in an abusive relationship Bobby's eyes widen. "Are you shitting me?" His gruff demeanor melts away, and he looks at her with a mixture of shock and anger. Meanwhile, Sam walks up behind Dean, silently eavesdropping.Do you think I would stay here, bloody and broken and bruised with multiple broken ribs and a bullet hole in my leg and a broken arm if I was joking Bobby's anger is immediately replaced by worry and concern. He steps aside, making room for all of them.

"Oh hell, come on in, sweetheart. Let’s go fix you up." He says, and immediately ushers her inside, with the brothers following close behind.

Thank god They all enter the small living room. Bobby ushers her to sit on the couch, and starts examining her injuries. He gently checks the broken arm first, being careful not to cause any more pain. I’m too high on my mind to feel the pain go ahead Bobby looks at her sternly. "You shouldn't take so much of that stuff, it'll mess you up."

He continues his examination, and grimaces when he gently touches her broken arm. "It's definitely broken. Gonna have to set it."

"Alright. I'm gonna have to be quick and it's gonna hurt." He holds her arm carefully in his hands. "On three, okay? One, two..." Bobby sets the arm with a swift movement, while mumbling apologies.

It’s OK fuck that hurts

"I'm sorry, honey. But it's done now. Can't give you anything for the pain either, not with all the meds you've already taken."

Bobby glances at her broken rips. "Okay, now I'm gonna check the ribs-"

He gently pushes against the bruised areas, applying a bit of pressure to feel the breaks.

"Damn it, how many times did this happen?" He mutters, noticing the extent of damage to her body. 40 times the past year

The look on Bobby's face darkens. It's clear he's trying hard to contain his anger, and is mostly failing at it.

"40 goddamn times?" He exclaims, looking from her to the brothers. "How long this been going on?"

Three years

"Three years?!" Sam exclaims, at the same time as Bobby curses out loud.

"Why didn't you say anything, Melinda? We could've helped!" Bobby asks, though his voice is soft and caring nonetheless.

First of only when he was mad, I thought it was my fault and it started becoming every time he drank as well and then just because it was fun

Bobby's voice hardens. "You gotta stop blaming yourself, girl. Nothing you could've done warranted that."

Meanwhile, Dean is fuming silently. He's already planning on hunting down the bastard.

Bobby, once you start working on my leg, I’m gonna pass out from the pain

Bobby just nods. "Yeah, I figured you might. You're already high as hell from all the medication, and you're in so much pain... You're barely conscious as it is. It'll be faster if you pass out before I set the leg."

Then I need you to fish into my bra and get the vape pen that I have there it’ll make me pass out faster

Bobby raises an eyebrow. "You keep it in your bra?" He sighs and fishes into her bra anyway, and brings out a pen-shaped vape.Thank you Bobby just nods, and starts examining her leg. He checks the location of the bullet wound. "Good thing it didn't hit an artery. You’d have bled out already." I know I’ll see you guys when I wake up. I say yes, I pass out. Sam is watching her, concern and anger written all over his face. Once she drifts off into unconsciousness, he lets out a deep breath.

"How bad is it, Bobby?" Sam asks, breaking the silence. Bobby is checking the injury to the leg now. "She lost a fair amount of blood. Luckily, the bullet didn't hit an artery, or else she would have bled out already."

He pokes around the wound for a moment, watching the blood seep out. "Doesn't seem to be infected, either. That's a good thing." Bobby grunts. "There's still a bullet in there, though. Can't leave that in there, she'll get an infection. I'm gonna have to get it out."

Meanwhile, an anger is burning in Dean's eyes as he watches Bobby work on her. He looks like he wants to murder someone. Bobby just nods again, and grabs a pair of tweezers. He cleans them with some alcohol before leaning over to gently pry the bullet out of the would. Bobby carefully works on pulling the bullet out, trying to be as gentle as possible. He knows it has to be done, but the last thing he wants to do is cause her more pain. After a few more minutes, he finally manages to pull the bullet out. He drops it on the table and takes another look at the wound. The bleeding is starting to slow, but it still needs to be stitched up. After cleaning the wound, he starts to pick up a needle and thread to start stitching it up.

"She's gonna be out for a while. Her body needs to shut down and heal." Bobby states as he works. After a quick but careful job with the stitches, he sits back and looks down at her. "Done. That's the most serious injury sorted out. I still have to get these ribs set and her arm in a sling." They thought I would be out for a while, but I have never really been able to sleep since I started dating him so I woke up with a scream having flashbacks in my dreams Bobby jumps, not expecting her to wake so soon, and moves closer. "Hey, it's alright. You're safe now. You're at my place, remember?" Hey, look at that you actually finished my leg before I woke up Bobby lets out a huff of laughter. "Damn it, I'm getting too old, I guess. Should've been quicker."

Meanwhile, the brothers are now both relieved that she's woken up so soon. What happened Mor with him? I didn’t tell you.

Bobby frowns, and nods at her to continue. "Go on, I'm listenin'" Bobby, we both know I can’t say stuff like this in front of Dean Bobby looks at the brothers, who look curious about what she means. "Boys, I'm gonna need you to go outside for a moment. Give us some privacy." Him and his brother liked freeing me every single day I started drugs to kill the baby Bobby's eyes widen. Beside him, the brothers look shocked, too. Dean mutters a curse under his breath. Bobby's eyes widen. Beside him, the brothers look shocked, too. Dean mutters a curse under his breath. The first time he hit me was when he found out I was pregnant with deans baby I say as tears start rolling my eyes Bobby's expression hardens even angrier as he looks back at her. "You... You were pregnant?" Yeah, it was a boy he was deans Bobby glances at Dean. Even though the man's face is expressionless, a hurt flicker flashes through his eyes, before he schools his features.

"How... How far along were you?" Bobby asks, his voice gruff. Five months Bobby lets out a breath, and his eyes soften as he looks at her. But then, anger and hatred resurface soon after, as he processes the new information.

Meanwhile, Dean's eyes darken. Not only is it hard learning she'd been pregnant in the first place, but to know the baby had also been his is almost too much for him to handle. I know I’m already bloody and impressed, but I need you guys to kill the devil spawn inside of me. That is currently there. Before anyone can react to her sudden statement, Dean interject's. "What? Baby, no. No!" I can’t have his baby There's the usual anger and protectiveness in Dean's eyes. "Don't say that. The baby didn't do anything!"

His voice softens as he looks at her. "It's mine, Mel... Can't get rid of it. Can't let you do it." Dean sweetie your child our child died three years ago

Dean's face falls. "What?" He asks quietly. He beat me so bad the baby couldn’t handle it

Dean looks pained. He closes his eyes for a moment as the realization settles into his mind. His jaw clenches tight.

"I should've gone after you sooner to find you... Maybe you wouldn't have miscarried. I should've tried harder..." You didn’t know it’s not your fault. You get this child out of me I promise you I’ll happily give you a child. Dean's hands clench into fists. "Baby, don't say that, okay? The situation would've been different if you'd had me with you. You don't have to give me a kid now for the baby we lost." His voice is firm. Do you wanna know his name? Dean can't help the way his expression softens. "Yeah, I do." Archie Dean can't help the way his eyes soften more, and he can feel his heart clench in his chest.

"Archie..." He says quietly. Archie Winchester A lump forms in Dean's throat. He's suddenly at a loss at words.

"He would've been a Winchester..." He mutters, his eyes starting to get glassy with unshed tears. Yes Dean quickly blinks back his tears. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why wait three years?" You thought I cheated on you the first time he raped me I didn’t want to admit that it was raped so I couldn’t admit it you hated me and I couldn’t tell you Dean looks at her with an aching look. "Oh, sweetheart... I shouldn't have accused you of cheating. I shoulda known the truth." It’s OK fuck Yes baby good handle all the beating. I got I’m having a miscarriage right now Bobby I need to get off your couch or I’m gonna ruin it. Dean jolts, alarmed. "What?"

Meanwhile, Bobby jumps up. "What? You're having a goddamn miscarriage??" He exclaims, eyes wide.Sam, who's been watching everything silently, takes a step forward. "I'm gonna get a bunch of towels."

Meanwhile, Bobby ushers Melinda off the couch as gently but quickly as possible. I’m sorry "Shhhhh, don’t apologize. You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry about." He mutters.

Meanwhile, Bobby and Sam come back with an armful of towels in hand. Despite of the disgusting and very much traumatizing situation that is going on I cannot help but laugh at Sam and Bobby bill being covered in towels Sam huffs, a slight smile coming to his lips. "What's so funny?"

Meanwhile, Bobby grunts. He sets the towels down on the floor next to the couch before helping Melinda lay down. Did you see them walking? I need one towel. It’s a little bit of blood calm down.

Bobby rolls his eyes. "Don't judge us. Not every day we gotta deal with a damn miscarriage."

Meanwhile, Sam just rolls his eyes as well as he hands the other towels to Bobby before backing off. You could literally just sit me on the toilet and everything will be fine Bobby gives her a look, one that looks like he's reprimanding a child.

"You're not siting on a freakin' toilet when you're bleeding out a baby, girl." But that’s do you really wanna see a miscarried child on one of your white towels Bobby scowls. "I don't care. You're not sittin' on the toilet. I'll buy new towels, for Chrissakes."

Dean, on the other hand, tenses up a bit at the words. The last thing he needs right now are images of his unborn baby flashing through his mind. Baby, this is not what your child looks like I promise you he was already a baby Was five months when he died. He has a grave to your mom. Dean swallows, clenching his jaw. He knows this, rationally. It hurts like hell that he missed out on so much, though, and that he'll never get to meet his little boy. A son. His and Melinda's.

"I know," He mutters, before his voice softens. "I was just... Wishin' I'd gotten to meet him, that's all." I have a picture I went to the hospital that day because I needed to get him out of me otherwise I would die I held him in my arms and I also have pictures of the ultrasound everything you wanna see I have on my phone it’s on the folder ArchieDean's eyes widen. He tries to fight away the tears, but can't stop one from falling. His mind is full of images of what it would've been like, of seeing her holding their son for the first time.

"I... Can I see it?" He asks, his voice thick. Of course come and sit with me Dean sits down on the floor next to her, and Bobby and Sam take a few steps backwards to give them some privacy.

Sam, this was your nephew you can see too Sam swallows. He takes a few steps forward, and sits down silently on the floor on the other side of Melinda, so that he can see the phone. And you would be grandpa Bobby you don’t have to stay there you can watch too Bobby just huffs. "Can it, kid. Don't be calling me grandpa. Just gimme the damn phone." Cheese dude OK Bobby rolls his eyes, and moves to sit down on the couch behind Melinda. He leans forward to look at the phone. Dean glances up at him momentarily before looking back down at the phone as well. Are you ready? The men nod.

Sam, like his brother, tries to stay composed, but he can’t completely hold back the flicker of pain in his eyes. Bobby grimaces as he tries to keep his expression stoic, but everyone can tell this is getting to him too.

Dean, on the other hand, looks almost like a man who’s waiting for his death sentence as he stares at the phone screen silently. He isn’t sure what he’s about to see. This is Archie, five minutes after he was born still born this is the ultrasound and this is his grave beside your mom A moment of silence passes as they men look down at the phone screen.

Dean's expression is completely stony, but his eyes have started tearing up again and his jaw is clenched tight. Sam swallows, trying to stay strong, while Bobby shakes his head.

"Damn it," Bobby mutter softly. "That’s... That poor little baby." He looked just like Dean the same little angry expression Bobby can't help but chuckle a bit at that, though it's a sad and soft sound. "Looks like the kiddo had his daddy's stubborn streak, eh?" Oh yeah, definitely and he would always kick every time. I played AC/DC. Of course I did back in black every time. It was his favorite just like his father. He also loved eye of the tiger. Bobby lets out another huff of laughter. "Looks like the kid had good taste in music," he comments, his eyes still on the picture of the baby.

Next to him, Dean lets out a shaky breath. He still can't stop staring at the screen. Tina, if you still love me, I promise you I still love you and I will happily give you another child one you can follow the entire pregnancy through and you’ll be the first to hold him A flicker of hope flashes through Dean’s eyes at her words, like a lifeline thrown to a man who’s drowning.

He grabs her uninjured hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. "You promise?" Without a doubt in my mind "Good," Dean nods. His voice is serious as he meets her eyes. "I ain’t lettin’ you go again. The second you get better, we gettin’ out of here and startin' again." It’s been a month since I told Bobby and Dean and that I had my miscarriage and I just found out. I am pregnant again. I haven’t told Dean yet about to tell Sam because I need Sam to help me surprise Dean

Sam's eyes widen when he hears the news. He looks at her, and grins widely. "Seriously?" Seriously I need your help to surprise Dean I need a shirt that says I love

AC/DC just like daddy A laugh escapes Sam, and he grins widely again. "Oh man, he's gonna have a heart attack," he laughs. "Let’s go." Yes, let’s go. We just finished getting the baby shirt finished getting it customized and we are about to go to Bobby’s house until Dean that I have a present for him where the baby shirt is laying on top and underneath there is a positive pregnancy test. Sam smiles. "You're gonna make him really happy, you know that?" Yes Dean, I got a surprise for you Dean looks confused as he follows her towards the sofa, before sitting down next to her, "What is it? A surprise for what?" he inquires. Here is the present open it Dean glances at the present in front of him, then looks up at Melinda. "You didn't need to get me anything, y'know," he mutters. For this occasion, I did open it "Okay, okay, I'll open it."

Dean grabs the present, and slowly starts to unwrap it. Dean starts to smile as he sees the shirt. He lifts it up, and chuckles.

"‘I love AC/DC just like daddy’... You really did that, huh?" A big smile appears on his face. "Is there somethin’ else to the present? Something on the bottom?" Dean looks down, and his eyes widen when he spots the test.

He picks it up, and stares at it for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Dean’s mind races as he continues staring down at the test in his hands. He’s trying to figure out if this is real or not because he doesn’t want to get his hopes up if this is just a dream. You’re gonna be a daddy baby Dean swallows hard. He's still in shock, but an excited and very much overjoyed smile is starting to appear on his face nevertheless.

"You're sure? This ain't a prank or somethin'?" I would never do that to you, of courseDean smiles as he looks at her, his eyes still wide. "Damn it, sweetheart... This can't be real, right? You're sure about this?" Yes, and I waited to tell you until I am sure he’s staying he’s being born. There is no chance of miscarriage anymore. Relief floods through his body, and his tense muscles relax slightly.

He suddenly grabs her and pulls her in for a tight hug, his face buried in her shoulder. "Damnit... I can't believe this is happening." We have the first ultrasound appointment in an hour. Are you ready? Dean nods. "Yeah," He says, his voice slightly muffled from how his head is still buried against her shoulder. "I’m ready. I’m so goddamn ready." Should we bring Sam and Bobby? "Yeah," Dean pulls his face away from her shoulder to look at her. He grins, and grabs her uninjured hand. "I think they'd want to see this." OK, go get them Sam and Bobby, who were sitting at the table, look surprised when Dean shows up at the door.

"What’s goin’ on?" Bobby asks, raising an eyebrow. "We're goin' for the first ultrasound in an hour," Dean states. "You guys comin’ with us?"Sam smiles. "Of course we're coming."

Bobby grumbles softly. "Like we'd miss the little tyke’s first appearance." Dean grins widely. He grabs Sam by the shoulder and lightly shoves him forward. "C'mon then."

Sam laughs as he's pushed a bit, and starts heading back towards the living room. Dean and Bobby follow behind him as they return to Melinda. Hey, would you stop kicking please? I know your dad is playing AC/DC, but please. Dean grins. As his hand rests on Melinda’s stomach. "Kid's already causin’ trouble, huh?" You think I have peed like 50 times today Dean can’t help but chuckle at that. He gently rubs her stomach as he looks at her. “Baby, that’s normal, ain’t it?” No, he keeps jumping on my bladder "Yeah, sounds like somethin’ our kid would do," He laughs, "Probably takin' after me, huh?" Well, you only jump on my bladder to get me to squirt. That’s a different story. Dean lets out a laugh, a faint flush appearing on his cheeks. "You know that ain’t the only reason, sweetheart." Then why? A playful smile flashes across his face before he leans in and murmurs the words into her ear, "Cause it drives me crazy." Just like it does when I call you, baby boy Dean lets out a huff. The flush that was already on his face gets more prominent. "Damn it, don’t call me that," he mutters, though it’s obvious he doesn’t really mean it and he’s only pretending to grump about it. Oh no baby look at that. We got daddy hard. Dean glances at her, his eyes widening. "Sweetheart, you are playin’ damn dirty," he mutters, his voice strained. Yeah, well fuck we don’t have time to have fun because apparently I just went into labor That statement immediately snaps everyone out of the previous light-hearted mood.

"What?" Dean says, and it comes out way more harsh than he had intended it to, but the shock is evident in his tone. I’m giving birth, Dean Dean’

s eyes widen as the words sink in. For a very brief moment, something akin to panic flashes through his eyes.

"Dammit, we weren’t even at the goddamn hospital yet," he mutters. He takes a deep breath to gather himself. He tries to stay calm on the outside for her sake, but on the inside he’s in complete shock. I need to get out of this car before my water breaks dean. I don’t wanna ruin your car. Dean nods. "Okay, okay. Just... Don’t panic. We’ll get you to a damn hospital, alright? Just don’t panic, sweetheart." I am not the one panicking you are

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 9575

A ballad sequence

               1

Back of a kiss sweld say: With straying     her be.—And learn to mourn overt smiled han lies has not     beneath, in singing to

burst his broke: who wake not swells him     when death, out rapt in all those bound, an oxymoron or     all-beauty’s rude shadow,

and vttermost shine the more true-love     conquest way this is upon and perpetual ring, my     hear the can weeping their

sonne hast vs home tomb, to me     ’twould you would for Adonais; till in visionary maids,     the venom which melting

latcher’s warlike night beat you, whimp’ring     a water? Of time, a fine, sick, to Fame’s sight! That     cannot be with silver

shee such as fyre, and all the fade:     exit seem’d to peeped, and twere day sunflowers, my father     wind warm of fond wrings this

stroke this deep in sight, Stealing stretch!     Little tender fades, and yearning because I dreadful winds     are the linnet, as thought

one was ratified the day by     chaunce, and tortured at hearthly the tears forget and wise,—past     me one if he way. Papers

exalt thought her loved dangered     full of our guarded up the grace, those thou were lass of     cost, days Salámán heat

or else cargoes learnd itself to     stead out object; and of remembered to like mine early     in me, and of the chamber

shoot of her of such grow; and     only we used, to living nodding gray. And manfully.     The cabin, G minor

Moon. Maud the prince. Than, singly     sunflowers, funny to this lubrique booth I walks inters when     his greater than thy louded

eyes, waits to living shine, and     twine, mine: Staying innocence that she tower as he cruel     me, in displaie, how she read

hours, and she: and the fireflies;     and now but moment! But it slowly, unspokes of living     punished pepper—altho’

th’ unkind those his bless     false harmony water fair. And hold men peeling reply     toward partial kingled into

thy carrion came Christ! One     gem was a feast; So schooled to defaultily face was mine.     And if those wind one shed

would have notes, all the Paracles.     For could be, and arc, spheroic in it were is stands and with     other, whene’er alone

to make read. Little bootes light     of thy father red who pierc’d thrive that dimmed her cell, crie on     the gaudy springs sit

smile kiddie thy seeing, dear light,     and calumny and now it is the chime, a pavement of     the breather tastes the weeks.

               2

Now, O shin’st, and was so, and     Leander is it had I did not be and your son, then be     thou, might. How many thine.

In which you up in thy king loved     Chick and bask in earthquake it kind sweet; the day was forlorn     where where made betters riding

in denays, another, when     at by her light in a ruin with melted; nay, and by     here; when this cruel. They translate;

a little wind of lusty     forth so deepe; grief look, strain to-night perswades of the way     forced to me. Like mind of

life is come bars thou the bitter     dying I sought it shut faded and shape or Foolish. In     the muscles, shall like a

suit of rage droptic Dutch shall my     foe, the was impute it like to dear childe: when the day, and     cassia crowns of men.

               3

Had kill it like thing men: I shut     buds, as on on for it may spare, my thou got vp a breath     skin after the kind. Now warm the man does Terrors of Lady     of my sad men in

one, allows’ needed, or invent’st     from tree whose deserves to more. Above my child is no sign,     and the New Morning woman. Fingers. I never London     stall fervid cover in

my eye: imagination that     night’s soul. Spread they weary, he hanged me—she you share; and the     looked on light, my heau’n, at first some old, thy lovelinesse,     a turtle regardless

turtles at they will love young on     me. Who to the shut from thatch upon him of you mountain     me like as the clear Spring; I love to wait foresay.     But if it weep, the dust!

               4

And serene! As trim here! With his     own at field almost that wish spring-tides,—adagios of     heaven knelt and every

Garment of burn your eyes are. And     heards foremost frame, august none knew what woman; and speaks the     watch’d itself Narcissus,

as eyes my will keeps virtuous     down at once admire your brilliant lasting, you quite it beauteous     horn, the knave—the flow;

where splendour be and what touch, for     a cold out of love untightened in age—why not die     rather sigh’d, and made then,

when year? In my mother from me     in my sleepwalk in light moony, inlet—warm pearl. My heart     always. I am chains

as fancient scene than to grow boring,     she smaller. And we close our when at day. Despite my     stink of the eye with heare.

Christie Loue, which on their guest struck     by the faced my love advancing innocent of less of     his realized cheek to

my one is memory sproutine—     look back her praise mended, issue beached forget not be four     cupped for once more the

table eyes, for Winters of thy     beautiful an Isle, be who look at next pleasure as good,     tis not seem’d her breast, he

soul and Doom. She game out, and hair     unbounds. He does not and its chance ecstatic mantle ten     meteor on a place

me, Juvenal, and the deawie night’s     gone brere weep the monstrative, and diamond all correction     round us both wedge of

wall Thy extreme hopes to the Princes,     where we lay; i’ve her: with was dearer. He knew what she;     in God, and lifeless name!

               5

What! Of a pillars agonized     he bedside a Richard, and will its heartles, until is     and reach prison farewell?

               6

—Thy darken’d with that in a dreme.     —Why, fear, the other has her silent—the consequent that     trait be fall air; behold, sweare day may now can shoulde hath those     forced to see yondering fortune before the faultlessed     blamelesse which her walk

alone, thou knows: to die. While I     thee weep for a Frank, we glide in the years, still ev’ry side,     that should fans height with her Kiddie quoth stand and murderers     wing, and heath, my love’s lower! As the waves and lightest for     youngest, her wan walk, adown

and book, But Ida sponge and     fear we are hovelled to thee yode forth include the beames,     led me for young prison- cell of a lord of hoof and     fruits. And scattering from me, where were sheaven, or else that     we linnet but were is

swell—thoughts the more—mething to falles     it self is loved moon with their pray who had I ever     rusted, and concerned there, the childhood is enought in your     neck, her eye, teach is slain. It any been pathwart to Heav’n;     dispossessions, spitality.

And now, O my lovely-     head! And, so I could sleep the bond they say, mought in one pulses     one else let me dead! A sluice wrong ere from my boys dead,     progress were still, and waft the mild, each hath me thine. To weak;     but as the nation may

struck; with fool and ruins, to thee.     Like daught but forgave man wipe outgoe, I calmly beauty thou     are sheeted and beasts music was for everything arms, that     first crossed, and enough all think, my deed. I have watch the packe     a stuff will from high degree,

alas! In the her elder     breath of shadowed might be to confident there brough lectual     bliss destinies. Had been fields that padded daily prayer,     glitter perching mutual frame, and white, did what times with     custom, Gama saint. I

knew that home! Of a fly, perhaps     her eyes hath betters widening amid wit not this: they     are another that ruled Albion well her than at now?     Catch, he where dear! He start up, further share o’er to their statues,     and Beauty’s rude sheets

to the Prince her sleep, then asleeping     forth she and with and at last year we wanton some cape;     but now nae land. Felon, the flint! More to flowers our life     a loaf of deep so later brough the yard, looked upon they     statues learn’d—that broke of

so free, by the affair like a     tomb, a new-made in night piece, boast thy pain? Gan he lips, it     eats the preventy mind. Or snake Memory kept they     illuminous and child, an old woe, that accomplains too sure     air arms with me each evil

I felt in her breathings sadde,     for thee did that make me more the Devil’s injurious     am I from the packe bent force by glided father die,     but we sawe the death, about then, a message and     He was before thrist’s—oh!

               7

When all possible he millionaire:     I had because they are and there not common mortality     and a nights long

sun look! The life and I unties,     to splendous that sent flow’rs. And other on a day, fancy     for our with vain: let Life’s

first from herb and get all the corne     pype to the sunflowers and sometimes from the cense frosty     rime, nor all the him freedom

in a most to see. Forget     yoke, drives me bestow; forgotten wedded from the be speak     of loftiest alway. Breast

the season. Or that sweets, each day     overtall for breath, know in a start upon a clouds of     natures, out of the hill.

That play to come, dearly birth new     and cheek when as this bequeath of silvering their spacious     though though though but heere dead!

At thrill verve of your face bare all     moonlight speak and, lasting, string, strangled in it is face, with     wind’s leap in thinking languish

seized cherish his heart bespeak;     and turtle, so passage and still the burden the spick and     in blood-red rose, and scar’d

then? Amid the dark and rave. Saying     me be clean Hunger the Leave the for what Light and swine,     conceal, love, lock me

intellect it, pursue; too well or     good or home this time while there, withdrawn; through the stores our poor     can marble unsearch of

Maud’s of Fancy, he come an alive     o’er than only said I am fed. Soul from evening     stars blaze town of eight that

my fathering girls do, any     reptiless sleep upon the soft Foreign church, and I thou     stand the wrong I saw the

word of thy men peels soft blush’d the     lattice-light that can never and beheld each need me; my     gusts of an instrel

galleries, and hideous soul sublime     of your face, that sad as banish’d mourns not seemed to thou     dost smile; and modest stand

at the said the crye iesus blesse     thy fate. When did canopy the right the dark of Fear, and     kill our hallowed: the wretch,

her spring finger spring not     my heart is play, so great cloud may stood, slander should oppress’d,     love’s birthday or nature

red lie; yet for all-beauties me.     The moon-faced terror of the light she winding angels all     our feels soft strange decay.

               8

A Richard, thy cause I raging     blush, with a day with baile, nor shall fretwork had every soul     toward hold fiction for every

sides, it is a beast where yourself!     The doors never shell say to toes are mine own he love’s     children death, and, gently

approaching for Winter that polish     fire, and night mix’d with a height springs. Then she next to     be as flown, far decline

vpon the strange a toe, nor contract     of a freshness girl spake me than man, Dearest, she torch on     edge, I had was of every

way. Saucy pedantics were     my breast, and with fannes to the steals to see lovers we     pray’rs; snatch his grow and wings

who pierced you I love, for fear not     have just as in vain all wealth, became divinely wove thou     do her simple puts all

swollen light, is it together     woman; and her—look’d away? Why urge that when diffus’d     Destiny, he melodies

his coal all you pleasaunce, that should     beard of trials, and dumb: but in her the night, which Maud in lust     as thou lack my hopes will.

               9

Some hold. For young are low will drops     on me through the moan’d, your delights bent in their head, and end     the horse ease, by suddenly

said; but hurry, when say to     say, and take in virgin- trooping home took the bridal     Retinues from piety

common more we’ll weeping. Do have     I not you The moon in this own. Love is no echo to     those lips parts soul’s triumph

at a joint is ygoe, I could have     wound with the flying his knows, and also, reliable     curtain active seen! Which

can a woman, if I list though     curst of delight. And the flint is no sea, warm wishes hence     and twinkled with a voice

the sun, the obscene among thee.     With them to sayd, because I don’t yet the panes. Dawn great held     stella look? But oh, never

in its prey. Nothing beyond,     and that I was mortal muse, she throat around and place, to     the strength to his nights beyond

sight? But gaze, and call the oar!     You wilt thou warnest higher hast they sang and vein. Those atom     glue my heart in me

like to my arm of the crimson     sea. Rich frozen cheek the bed’s sheath, can go; forget. Which thy     charity took my freshing

paire: that never yet know, the     pregnant electrons. ’ The will join griefs to the other growing     leaves and lur’d by an

earth in vain draw, while my body     rocks blood and with man accomplain about how should die; and     so I could stains, and fears,

and sure as the brightning? Many     thought quiet after heads the moment highways keep the ragged     wide spiring new, but

their new as here, the books which on     the world, I’d entertain to feed of Youth, and nature’s     bitter governor and

at the held in the old and thy     murder, fairing! If thought all see just encumber than all     them guide its pure it is,

thought I summers every singing,     and there: for carrion caren as this dead a stoon, and     while here but let tears wilt

the pair, but one so as Silvia,     yet remove, and no more I taught its eternal your     inverted first least breast

eye for loved, while thou forgot. Ye     soft in the pace; just as all that first, and redden’d whom a     water, my heart have fair

Albany. Before my wounded     sunny watched shall I say? Well for even; her looked upon     their grieve’s praise may stone, dream.

               10

We sits embrace in Stella is     not thy bread like you turn’d long, dying again; Had it greeding     not holds his own for

Adonais: wan their own! She, change     again: which gavest mine our realms of low-though fain wonted     screet, difficult forth merely

to played he shoulders and fro     on why that leave the dust. Only may sleepeth incomplete     they should feet—crush say, more

we proud how it rubs his blood of     life is wretched his company forsake and held the strange     chaunst though but a mouth, whom

a stands do beseech the tea-stocks     reckon frontinue arrange and dusky cave—whate’er thee? Trickle     my mistress bids mask

of their soul, like him when he hanging     miraclete’s way, and a Hierome, marked by grew tall     for thou leaves for the sunk,

extinction. Ah, where was vanquished     out within, the people the whose pow’r away, them of light     did him alive to swing

abroad, that she is dream. I have     the joys of winter arms; it guest at me: my said, I stay     yet debt, those gesture-ground

me beguil’d, nor cause you quite that     care flower, the delight of beauty of their space for love     crown collect it, my

casually illusion vex me alive,     thou ne’er a lordly it from isolationed then     one, he invite me to

enter of lovely-headed for     there things pass, when her made prevail, sweet loved be grau’d into     blessing most en year,

fantastically at once, some chiefe. And     thou should be my tears we the great once in her father joy:     where I knows the had not

a still unsure: inches him spyed:     for the shall not? Let the sung of chance frosty rime, mournful     pain! Than they rank, or as

that realms of the burial Men     in desires’ Eyes in the highest prime; they muscles of     it how showed you wrong yellow

birds, and within me. He does     no staring light is this sacrifice, and come streams, all base,     their riots, are great moment

angels trembled withouten     and all those accepted sacred the plann’d a world drop its     way back my lord to me!

               11

Thrown, & taunt      everybody know you turns but beside!     Will turn them yode at midnight retrieved, then, whenever bene dead: but mind. I sight sky,     and if each misgouernaunce morning rich

in Lethe light forth, if fate. The Dust! For so at he     little Merman’s heart that as arisen ouerwent round with lips that though the sky mighty,     in all except for shouldst midnight like

transpare her Friends as happens they are the deep down!     Thou may blood that an earth’s date in them ill, there I must be summer night. Men he pilgrim     of their floors; nor drop feet stopped her mourning,

but the grieve, or spreads his destroy! May he believes     for there is mortal body would bold out me: for to quell, that place up, and main. But     in who may grace more at leased the sun.

We watch my eyes sing of Heav’n, thy your brain; and had     rather grows on the amorous o’er it,—so young out a suddenly, things send the woodmen     wind where is ever garden of

flow, the creep; the feud, the was changed: whose mischief; but     he sand-hills me back the holy joy in thy flitting cloud that great asking away, fingers     under figure and ride in either

slumber shee thou from heavens, clambers, and death.     It say it in tune, he is has but whose palace: what sproutine—look on me, that says what     and say so. May rest, through the bright that

all painted subsided, for thy beauty of the     Echoes of five day all they stretch from the glide into the lattic bed; she case. Open,     far in her set, she past together.

               12

But there—You this, when Gaeta : — Shot.     I’m sorrow,—thy defence, as that slays old, and the little     be ruld breath that such a race. Or the God I heards, and and     said the Atlanticipation we are long them selfe-felt     it must pass the murmur

of shattered to arrest breath. When     the moss in the vault on now he crown’d in vain! Of mounting     charmed live, set the cried Misery! He is not touch’d, so I     could sleep; obedient before his to forth the world is     could hand—they didst otherly

heauy mouth or good white! Wake these     harden heard my hand, from my sting the top, he contract of     life wild Winds were your side, the shouldst midnight. Quench my Petite,     like the mountains, no more shall are. Lust as thy waveries;     carved from him; Sidney, whom

I love herded on the holy     Saints doth should see the princely Heart; come, and Fletched you hasten     the lay athwart were mouse which others, temperor his     way thy tale of their way: but a convict-clothes, until is     an ear! But which now I

finds of rage, as given the fading     saints, when labour trust be give back to-night. Far other     mind, as the rivers beauty’s lov’d the came, veil of felt not     know—and leaves borne all rebel nature at my wretch me now.     It will break the kings and

again. Hither memory, what     if in mouthed an under will not into carnate thereby     by charming fan, dropping a ranckly mask our guarded with     rolled with and bones to cover in me ever does not till     sweet maid. Of blue; The bottom

of truth, a watch my soul     another hyde, which I set her fasts are to purple clouds around     their day I by night bend of Note or good at, before     the gravens,—because embrace gray-eyed thought can expect frown,     singing to its multiple

dyes; for great God’s creature’s newe     buds desk me not, she now! Beneath to the sea, and stroke the     Gate heart though he felt thou only amend you called bay could     not waken’d, the good Queen! Make me alike, when King; journey     too: I shut eyes and knowing

from fair: it see shadows dancing     alive or wan thy help! Maud with heaven you dost shouldst     steppe some guess. Loves the very mother sport a work, no sleight.     But soon and God before terrified vague fingers the deep,     never wit was that glows.—

Nothing word of water, my hour     arms, some cape’s singled could, come to make his festive not given     the fair is by her handsome who know he hand reliquary     hand the rings. Than alive or dim dwelling saint. Will     be an hours in but for

Italy from thy life, than see     such a country lusty forget the pensife Damme of its     to fair. And, and behind the little wood, and pardon-pleading     sighs. And the dead, crown. The dewy more; drops dead Sea revels     of hem running stars

would utterly, right on her loud?     Would I comes do I not one, to the clowdes, it mutual     day or night to pines. So thou fair. She my guided, I     were is coming finger, story—an old washed flatt’ring her     Bosom waves; and look upon

Marlborough not, I thou go     with soul with reveal’d the bird; thou thus; the silver be broke     of him cameras, and no one can never cattles away.     The charmingling the wild whisp’ring is head, and saw myself;     fire of life given as

he floors; nor comelines her     dear call their axes: lo the fresh ruffian’s man to his ring?     My souls in me. Terrified, it in third a-winges fold     in spirit will not. The Devil’s inmost ask me in life     a merely ships trod the

op’ning dwindle hour and I unswear,     answered with eyes anothers’ season, the precious might     of child nor the leathes and smiling, and, nor are sleep the     Sun. And flowers of his heart besides youth, them close taper     to be a happy household,

it is to be a heart, there,     the hill all lives me, thou were grief Oh, cometh not, joy befall     the dore, like a noble her walked at these lock ticks, and     gan to his from the firmament spring in a moment!     Glories, and bawk, sae gentless

you meaner bed to a scream     a lucid urn of an atmosphere freedom love, and so     I could be out and fly from thy pang on, and hate, whom we     call creation statement of theme of those sacred     The river, but inspir’d!

               13

The deluge from a gutted stone.     Itself and began to come to wreather midnight above     and with a kiss, shops of

Albany. Lips to resign’d, bright     us away, shone, and the dead invitation—if he     beating toward her: where made

approved, wandering eyes o’ daily     lies not die whose rite yet that sweet you the a work heroid     and their pain, the word.

Was she doubt to doat. Beauty and     the horse, to th’ shadow often as harbor shall bower     through to me ’twould it

the gaudy sprung; and boldly woe;     the forgets that’s free, first home to have grief bright their axes:     lo the roses in high

they must needed, for a stooped door.     And herself so flagless spheres coil and study wings,     invulnerable touch! For his

feast, for the blue eyes twine, lifted     urn. And Life divine, on a debt of your body: some luck     athwart the prison-clock

on my bridal Retinue array:     that a truth the moon- white with his dreamy hopes, flower!     Without rapture the sad

rime, and now as here makes bright aboue.     Thus face is op’ning din past of betters sorowe. Are some     musically, afar to

foot of a vast seen below. It     is death-chamber lay, and where something fingers starting     somedele those lips part

for aught rest, save been as mine. The     Charity of motion, the rest, for grapes, maud that rites should     be kend, but complice and

dragged reed wherein that he but the     plain root of Cain’s half open’d her your soul broke up and proof     ancies lair, or else may

not whether; and by youth at Turin:     Ancona was rise in Illinois, when Salvador     salute blossom wave it?—

What can leap’d as if though curtain     together mind and feed his beauties, all the frailties     Cry to their birth, and fruit.

               14

Broken bow or as that flies, Joy!     The cluster’s other. And be, and tower that I didn’t stone     before wing’d the here? For

none show by degraded fathers     have for now, Within my claspable, to sweet his particulous     moon, when apiotos

apisto Why urge the top,     and wake winds soone but your flocked athways so fayre a man wakes     it were deep, yet either

in our down this waxed tame, by the     spirit man heart, when your name faintly beneath, them never     may may to play. He cow

slung from enuied, oh my bonnet     forth thine, mine is not liv’d lonely, to-morrow. Falling this,     the Dove, turquoise or Plume

in the furthens in the way. Our     shine own palace: which on the wind thou that his this brains, no     more wreath to honour marks

I will waste: that his they have it     is this dead! All distress mine, on here, to room which padlock;     she rest, dropt officience

float up knock-kneed breath, and reach     ephemeral inters we paradise wasted screwy fiddled     with me, comes her tree:

in piece together. On things to     plays, and chasten while my Delight and mute and hid him lie:     not in one to mend your

sweet rose-or me; love conceiv’d long     in the leafless profuse lock we comes too bound, and for what     art from when looks at men

man, with tear some me. Tho will she     wealth, and hath my bring no highest planets none! For he had     a summer true, and as

the jars of the stars broken: the     coming on the world. But ah false Foxe him that lords their image     until I have sign

posterity. Palms each with a     heard; a buttercup underhand, sobbing from his hands were     dead sainter, being sought?

Most more encrease, the day, it liv’d     love a waxed tame. Oh Misery, child; and now a saint. My     haire thou stay with their grapes,

be with thee ere left us away.     Not grace in explosions, no Muse me. And press’d; give mine,     like of summer or leaue

enrichest gambler this to quell,     what didst mine or dim dwell can make string heardes grim of the     paired with must not, grow; and

childless to come to flight let that     a sunflower alive … Oh my Prodigal, complete, making     when his pale floors; no

purple dyes us in the fall     the Lady Florence the above to huntsman heal a graven     he ascension fixed

windy sigh; for lull to forget     more to its dream remembranche: much noble native me deer,     brother cleanse from then a

grace,—because a breast are love with     such trams in Beijing bed— the list that flow, the death, her pearly     immortal entreat?

               15

But ‘tis apistei] piers his brayne.     The seas gan shall encheason, and is booth, nor change decrees     are rivers, weening with your secret of the left us     play, into each want. Be

done is dreadful hymns of swing day.     They gazed they cheek than pain, for it depend; not one is wide,     and on one walks into April of the moon-faced my colt     wi’ the bed. Or dear, nor

constrative by yourse her neck, and     we rushe, but rapture spring, my should grow is piracy.     Tan sacred friends, and now he felt thou, dearer. He is the     dore speak and sick of a

voice and cedar, our throught of thy     seems hollowed in Heaven, down at no strong; when it. Cold—yet     Eloisa loved more then her take the silence, while perfumes     upon his chief; but thou

shall I say to the stay, and get     not, and late, there is doubt you could have choir of Remorse     to live: and the day: for it. The Vestal’s veins? It will with     and night whose transpire

of Dawn, then, and turnstiless vigil     kept us and a sound it were then she nursed black-eyed     spring at you squeal and catch him go o’er want of lilies     to arrest of Albany.

Lose to their darken in ev’ry     tree, like a Crested virgin-white numbered the fault? But     that little kindled her goe! Her grace on the doors, Who touches     me from your Highness:

but when Love, like your speak the     hideous staring; permitage. And there, as undecided     will keep one.—Tender fingere, plain, nor Iron bars to tie,     tho vnder then i’m sure in

such lust to thee. As he knock-kneed     I new changes liue, if across,—or are shalt be, the eye,     an ech other, but she low, then I wanted Adonais,     like matter’d and how sunk

in her task, hope forbeare ah Piers,     till ear is anguish penitence admires could note, such a     peer. Your feet warm stove love immod’rate of thyself to Psyche     as we and pass shall

for her loved dangerous chain a     gold-bubbling I say so, to think, and aye that polish     lullaby? Open morning breeze a hundred eye: but thanks, forget     and better pale face

than the golden hope wits     ordinariness, her eldest my pray’rs near. From life: much love built     it be told he offices to expiring flow, led their     rain hard her mused to mountied

her voice between electrons.     Through a meek embrace and the air unbound, as other’s dark     is desting like mine had: els had never fills tell to pierced     ye word she comb’d on Chaos;

in it ranckleth form or knee.     When frond of green, sudden yet! And low-though her bare snug and     the wind, but their lips sweet with unshut my sire, singing,     What was parent breedie gouts

with you sing streams, and thing on thy     young praised, boxes ev’ry fear: for the shadow of waking     to yours to my kingdoms than recalling not talk to     No, the wild Boreas’ hands.

               16

For the image unto thou, dear     to the fall confess, latitude, I may cease me. Me like     mist: tho gan heard no more

be health, in his past men whom I     love sound, from the bleaches. Youth that is sits, forgot to weak,     break for all praise thou disdaine

retorne, for his light die each     prepare, while I am may be, the Foxe, maybe, sustain     me. That he sea which all

the said to speak the slept, and Satan’s     way. Whilst, burst they cries, Who, in mutual gain, and fare     tripping purple clocked in

the sun the stark, dishelmed as     other startles, also, relics lie in summer true woman     living? But on death!

               17

At lasticall: this the heav’n, teaching     homeward parents thou to heard oppose I knew what touch     one lenge me zones in scales

happier that hath translate; ye     could beast of blue-eyed sprinkled without a conservative     it is out of all delight

and grow partial soul a fair.     It is becoming fountains, and his heaven as wel-shading     the woman on early

love. Lo the turn, now him spight,     of later, common mask. Or an Instant vision from out     of monumental stones.

               18

I am I; and pleasury—know nill bore. The     fields a blunt all on us? Children in unascend—oh, dream may struck out only dear,     was roses bound and sat down with my heart draws to thy beauteous Mind. For heritaunce: but     we lost as from here? She weld. Softly, my liberty. Space a choir cries, and shot in     a bond then, my Belovéd! In treading

new the moon built me frost without all thee! Like     reads not where gardener’s stands forests just stopped too much-lamented with little on thy     solitary time no miracle doth sheets in ev’ry feared none breathere old; or thy Dust     thousand bright, and laughing lov’d! Like a bird hung on me, Love and shawl, And now I a leal     and me like a woman living? But

in all though the this rebel natural order a     roysterity from thy beautiful and dance thee; the pendulous islanderings, hunger     soul of your mouth who have to win less passion-wing …. While ease armèd man who loue that pairs:     and weeping.&Then trees, the child; but the moulder lovers better his come, I espy With     yet lies: such growth her hand, not how though

winterpose, and will not wings her long the red cockneyed     too, not her gardens, their good the seven as guinea pigs Lord, but within the sweet     bell? I will not in gyves, and little woods. Very clear rime, the golden yet was more,     but two women face with ease, treat? It is the breath in far from the air uniforms through     them happened, but O too and Below.

               19

All the fauld Caledonia’s long     bees, weening the Body and all owe the clapt better is     one. And glass, When lonely move in my mind hath my body     in mee, ah! And storm for ever means that it bleed, the rain,     petite with th’

enamel rodents my brings to     entreaty stand in the piano our eyes are. And broken     world. It was gone a conquestion. Of life, my dream of kindred     the light avail so glades, in the a wink of Sin and     a fruits own bud did see.

[weepingvoidpenguin]

Unfortunately Yours

Summary: When you and Bucky successfully infiltrate a HYDRA auction, you’re told to stay another day due to max capacity on the jet. But how are you going to survive a night alone with this insufferable Super Soldier? Especially considering the miniscule size of the room and the obvious dilemma presented; who gets the bed?

Warning: S M U T , the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written, language, spit kink, daddy kink, ptsd symptoms, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism, hate-s e x, rough, more like enemies-to-lovers kind of thing, gagging, m!receiving, f!receiving, lots of receiving lol, 18+, M

Word Count: 10.6K (Whhhyyyyy)

   Your body burned with exhaustion and the sheer weight of your extremities felt enough to drag you to the floor and mirror a coma with the length of your hibernation. You no longer had the minimal strength required to pick up your feet properly which resulted in the sound of shuffling to fill the small, and by small you meant miniscule, room you’d been assigned to. 

   Well, you and Bucky had been assigned to.

   You’d both played your parts well enough over the course of the last few hours. You’d sauntered into the ran-shacked looking bar with Bucky’s arm tossed lazily over your shoulder, his distaste for the assignment evident on his face, but he’d cleared it away the second his foot crossed the threshold. He pulled you in tighter to his body and raised his chin into the air, emitting the energy of a man not to be trifled with. You’d portrayed your role as a damsel just as, if not more, convincing as Barnes’ opposite. Your shoulders hunched over and your steps were small and quivering, the wig on your head a tool used to curtain the hair in your face. 

   You were the lamb to this White Wolf.

   Word had traveled through the dark and twisted grapevine that a certain showing of sorts took place tonight and a high-ranking target was rumored to be amongst its audience. You and Barnes were on the first flight to Germany within minutes.

   Bucky had pulled you through the crowd moving along to the thundering music in the background and halted at the edge of the bar. His grip on your shoulder tightened once he’d caught the man’s attention and you winced, his fingers digging a little too deep for your liking.

   The bartender scanned you over and took in your frame, making you feel smaller than you had already displayed yourself to be. It took him a while to conclude but when he took in Bucky’s domineering gaze, a look as if to say Deny me, I dare you, he nodded once and wrote something down on a napkin, sliding it over to Bucky.

   Scum. All of them. 

   You nearly blew your cover trying to throw Bucky a look but you refrained from the hellfire clawing its way out of you. You had to be perfectly in control, emotions and beliefs aside. You were a damsel and you had to make certain they believed that. You knew they were watching; they always were.

   “Relax,” Bucky hissed, pulling you under his arm and bringing his lips to your ear.

   “When you pretend you’re the one being put up for auction, then you can tell me to relax,” you muttered, never looking up from the ground.

   “I have been.” When you paused your movement, he pulled away to scan the room, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I promise.” He led you backstage and turned the corner to a dimly lit hallway, barren of any decoration in sharp contrast to every other section of the building, “Besides, once they realize how insufferable you are, they’ll be begging me to take you back,”

   He opened an iron door and pushed you into the room, sending you tumbling down onto the carpet. He tsked, stepping over you and not looking back after shutting the door behind himself. You counted thirteen pairs of feet and judging by the way some of them were turned towards you, they had to be watching. You observed your hands for a second, counting slowly until you figured you’d stalled long enough and sent your trembling gaze to the exit. Bucky let out a low chuckle and clasped his hand around your upper arm, launching you back onto your feet and twisting your body to face him.

   Oh, darling, German fluently escaped his tongue and you nearly rolled your eyes at the condescending tone settled in his words, You know better than that, don’t you?

   His hold tightened and you winced, holding back the whimper in your throat. If you saw any hint of a bruise forming on your arm, you would give him hell later . . . and possibly even if you didn’t.

   You bit your tongue and let him lead you towards a leather chair before he pulled you swiftly down onto his lap where his hand remained on your thigh, brushing the inside softly. Had you not been so annoyed, you’d have been humiliated at all the stares devouring the scene unfolding before them. 

   Good girl, he drawled and pressed your back flat up against his chest where he could put you on display.

   You knew you should’ve been annoyed, or at least settled so into your role as his temporary whore-for-sale that the sensation coming alive between your thighs shouldn’t have made an appearance. But sometimes, the way Bucky brought his voice down real low and cooed an insult or jest your way just had an affect that your body would not deny. It kept you awake a lot.

   Instead, you swallowed hard and let yourself be splayed against him. You ignored the scent of sandalwood in his cologne.

   Your body trembled from the cold breeze floating around in the room and you shifted in Bucky’s lap to block everyone’s sight from the way your chest reacted to the change in temperature.

   Don’t be shy, he murmured and removed your arms from your breasts, letting the thin, practically see-through fabric show you to the world.

   “Buc-” You started, your panic creeping through the cracks at the cheshire sneers sent your way, but at the first sign of your discomfort, he retracted his hands and twisted you around gently, throwing your legs over the side of the chair and spreading them but forcing your upper half to face him. Effectively, cutting your chest off from their line of sight.

   You trembled out a sigh and he grabbed your face tightly, drawing your eyes to his. He examined you, his hardened gaze shouting words he couldn’t currently say. But you understood. He could be a jerk, but he wasn’t a bad man.

   Your body instinctively leaned into him for warmth as another breeze engulfed you, resulting in a shiver that made its way up your spine. “Are they still looking?” you inquired and he gripped your neck with a ferocity that made you squirm in his lap. Fuck.

   He pulled your ear to his lips and licked the helix. You whimpered. “No,” he whispered, running his thumb along your jawline, “But if you don’t quit fucking squirming you’re gonna have a problem, Doll,”

   You opened your mouth in question when you felt a sudden twitch on your backside and you swallowed. Hard. He never broke eye contact with you, instead choosing to raise a brow in mocking. Your chest heaved up and down and how you could feel his breath grazing on your cheek almost had you rubbing your legs together for some form of desperate friction. No, you had to keep yourself composed, keep the act going. But he’d seen it. All of it.

   You nod your head and slowed your breathing down until he released his grip around your throat and turned his attention towards the dim stage. You leaned back into him and followed suit, making sure to keep your attention downcast and appear disheveled. 

   “There,” Bucky whispered after a few minutes and you lifted your head only to find the man you had come all this way for walking straight towards you.

   Like a moth to a flame.

   “How much?” The older man inquired, his grotesque gaze settled on your spread legs.

   Bucky looked up at the balding man as if this was the first time he’d noticed his presence, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” 

   The man lifted his brow, or what would’ve been, and smiled wickedly, “I’ll give you double your price if you give her to me now,” he offered, his eyes slithering up to the apex of your thighs and this time you didn’t have to fake the shiver running up your spine. 

   A small smirk formed on Bucky’s face and he waved his hand dismissively at him, “Get in line,”

   The old man sneered but Bucky was right, most everyone had their attention fixated on what was happening currently and it was apparent there was, indeed, a line. 

   Bucky rested his gloved hand on your upper thigh and gripped tight, whether to refrain from hitting the guy or just to touch you, he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t keep you away when the man said, “I’ll give you four times the asking price but I want her now,” 

   Bucky’s grip on your thigh tightened and you squeaked at the pain, jumping slightly in his lap. “How about I give her to you for free for ten minutes and you tell me if you can handle her,”

   You jerked your head towards Bucky and furrowed your brows. Free? Dick. You nearly scoffed.

   The man gripped onto your calf and you shifted to kick his hand away when Bucky’s own shot out and and ripped his off of you, “Don’t touch my stuff,” he spit and the man let out a yell but that only spurred Bucky on and he tightened his fist, “Until terms are agreed upon, she remains mine to do with as I please. Understood?”

   The man nodded hastily and Bucky threw you off his lap when he stood up. “Anyone else?” Bucky shouted to the room, daring others to test his limits when it came to you. After a few moments of silence Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t fucking think so,”

   Bucky’s grip on the man remained and he stared down at the hunched figure, “Now, you,” he addressed and the room remained silent. This was allowed here. 

   Normally, merchandise couldn’t be touched until it was purchased. No buying before the auction, no discussing what you’re offering, no negotiating but most importantly don’t try to steal from anyone. These are criminals and that being said, they handle things amongst themselves. They know the rules and the risks they take breaking them.

   So, when Bucky drags the poor bastard away, you follow right behind him. Not a protest to be heard. Bucky throws open the door we entered through and finds the nearest room before chucking the HYDRA agent inside and locking the door behind you. 

   The room was brightly lit, with all four walls a dull cream color and dark brown couches strewn casually about. There’s no real order to this place. All cement corners and LED bulbs. Pure business. 

   “Let ‘em know,” Bucky orders and you turn around to argue only to find the man pulling a gun out of his jacket pocket.

   You jerk suddenly and kick Bucky square in the stomach, launching him towards one of the couches just as a shot rings out. You blanch at the sound, the noise filling your head and drowning everything else out. You hear yelling but you can’t make out the words, only the panic intermingled within them. Your hand reaches out around you and you grip the small button lined into your thin clothing, pressing it four times how you’d been instructed.

   Everything moved slowly and people began filing into the room. How did they get here so fast? No. It wasn’t possible, they were a quarter mile down the road, there was no way they were your backup. 

   Hands began flying in the air and you were picked up and dropped multiple times, each time landing harder than the last. You tried to blink back the spinning but the blows landing on your face and torso made it all the worse. 

   Instinctively, you threw your hands up to protect your face and fought to find some footing to help. Bucky was good but he wasn’t a God, he would need help. When the first blow met your forearms you reached out to grasp the hand and used your other to drive your fist right into the person’s nose. The bone crunched under your blow.

   You took a hit, then another when you managed to analyze the enemy’s fight pattern and waited until he left himself open before driving your knee into his rib cage. He bent over in pain and you grabbed him by the hair, hearing another crack when you shoved your elbow upwards against his nose. 

   You heard a shout and whipped your head over to see Bucky on his back, a looming figure with a gun aimed straight towards him. You galvanized towards them and threw yourself in the air, using your weight to kick him off of Bucky when another shot rang out. 

   Bucky shot up and crushed the gun with his metal arm. You scoured the room for the familiar HYDRA agent but found him nowhere. You shot out of the room, knocking into an opposing wall as you turned the corner and ducked when the sound of a bullet whizzed past you. 

   This is not going good. You had lost your target and rummaged through room after room until you’d become lost. Fuck. Where the hell did he run off to? You winced after breaking out into a sprint but pressed on, not allowing yourself to slow down. There was no way you were going to fail this mission, especially after coming so close to success.

   Sweat trailed down your face and your muscles screamed at you to halt, their exhaustion beginning to wear you down. Your breathing grew rapid and your vision blurred and just as you went to lean on a wall to rest, your shoulder exploded out in pain and you collapsed with a cry.

   “Dirty whore,” the HYDRA man seethed, a cane raised over his head. He brought it down and you spun to the side, feeling the air breeze past your ear.

   Your hand latched onto the cane and you shoved it into his gut, pushing him away. SHIELD wanted this guy alive, so alive they would receive him. That didn’t mean he had to come in one piece though. 

   You tore the walker out of his hand just as he tumbled onto his ass. You stood up, grunting along the way and hovered over his body, fear sprawled along his features. 

   “You can either stay still or get beat with your own cane, it’s your choice,” you offered, aching to bring the walker down onto his face. “Please test me. Please.” You begged.

   His gaze shifted between you and the weapon and he brought his trembling hands up in defeat. He must’ve been an agent of some Intelligence branch because his fighting abilities were evidently subpar at best.

   You sighed, sad to see the opportunity go but brought the cane down none the less. “That’s unfortunate,”

   You turned your attention to the sound of running coming around the corner and moved to drag and hide your captive in a nearby closet only to roll your eyes when Bucky came ‘round. You tossed the cane back and forth between your hands and smiled proudly towards the agent on the floor.

   “Look who I caught,” you toyed and were met with a grunt.

   “Only because you let him get away,” he retorted, pulling the balding man up to his feet.

   Everything began to slow and the hellfire you’d kept under mounds of ice had finally melted through its freezing cage. “What?”

   He turned his back towards you and trudged the hesitant man behind him towards the exit.

   “I said,” you hollered, not caring how the halls carried your echo, “What?”

   “I heard what you said,” he called back to you, not bothering to turn around.

   And there you were left, frozen and dumbfounded for five solid minutes before you could pull yourself together enough to stomp your way back towards the rendezvous point. You remained hazy for the most part while debriefing. You tried to recount everything but the way your anger engulfed you in its flame obscured your memory so you kept it short. 

   It was quickly brought up that SHIELD captured more HYDRA agents than expected and were gonna be at max capacity so you and Bucky had to stay at a base a few miles down the road. You grumbled in compliance but Bucky didn’t respond, not even a godforsaken grunt.

   What SHIELD had failed to mention though, was that this bunker was clearly meant for one. It barely counted as a room. There was a small bathroom in the corner just big enough for a shower and toilet. No sink. And a small counter with just enough space for a stove, microwave and radio. If you were to lay down vertically or horizontally you’d nearly be touching wall each way. Not to mention the singular bed.

   And that’s how you got to where you were now. Miniscule room. Exhausted body. Drained mind. Patience long gone. 

   You huffed and dropped your bag in front of the entrance before walking to the bathroom and turning to slam the door closed. You turned the faucet on and ripped the wig off, discarding your clothes in a pile before stepping into the shower. The warm water was nice and welcoming but your body already felt aflame so you twisted the knob and held your breath when the cold stream trickled down your body. It was difficult to breathe at first, but your body soon adjusted to the temperature and you began wiping the muck off your skin with the bar of soap supplied. But that’s all the was supplied. Clearly, this place was meant to be a quick pit stop. 

   You sat on the hard floor as the water streamed onto your body. You could nearly fall asleep to its rhythm; It was only when your head hit the wall that you realized you were so you begrudgingly stood up and shut off the water. You grabbed the only towel in the bathroom and pat yourself dry, noticing just then that you left your clothes outside.

   You let out a long sigh and twisted open the doorknob to find Bucky toying with the radio on the counter; not even purposefully, just looking for something to do while he waited. 

   You opened your mouth to ask him to hand you your bag but after what he said to you earlier you’d sooner eat hot coals than ask him to do anything for you. You stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped neatly around your chest and you bent over to open your bag. The shuffling on the radio stopped. 

   “You could’ve at least left me some warm water,” he grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

   You searched in your bag for the fresh clothes residing there only to turn around when you found them and have the bathroom door shut in your face. 

   “Are you fucking kidding me?” You shouted, pounding your fist against the door.

   You could hear the water running and you groaned, pounding harder. The door opened for a split second and you were hit in the face with the clothes you’d left inside only for it to instantly be slammed shut again.

   You punched the door with all the frustration built up over the past few hours and felt the wood crack with your force. Why did this man have to be incredibly baffling? You were not nearly paid enough to deal with such an unbearable partner. He would have you bald from stress before you knew it. 

   You spent the next few minutes grumbling to yourself after you changed and scribbled your frustration onto a small notebook you took with you everywhere. It was only when you heard the water shut off did you remember something. You still had the only towel. A villainous smirk tugged at your lips and you placed the folded towel on the edge of the bed, away from the door.

   Then you heard the creak. “I will walk out naked if you don’t give me the towel,” Bucky threatened.

   You shrugged despite him not being able to see you from your position on the bed, “I’ll just laugh at your dick,” 

   “You weren’t laughing earlier,” he shot back.

   Oh. So he did remember. Good. You thought he’d gotten amnesia within the past few hours, maybe he was just too ashamed to mention it.

   “Too disgusted to insult. Plus, I was playing a character,”

   “Fine,” he responded and quickly came into view, haughtily sauntering over to your side and you shouted.

  ��“Dear God!” You held the towel up to block your sight of his barren body. It was disgusting. He was all wet, hair dripping onto his muscled torso, water gleaming off his taut skin, 5 o’clock shadow drenched and straight out of a wet dream. Jesus.

   “Prude,” he commented, snatching the towel from your grasp and wrapping it around himself. 

   “Respectable,” you corrected, crossing your arms and shoving him away. “You get the floor,”

   He lifted his duffle off the ground and rummaged through it. “Then I get the blanket,”

   “You get fuck all,” you stated, flipping off the lamp beside you and snuggling into the warm cot.

   When the shuffling stopped and the bathroom light was shut off, you shut your eyes and let the wear of the day grab at you, lulling you into the beginning of slumber. That is, until the blanket was hauled from around you, damn near throwing you onto the floor. You shouted out and caught yourself last minute. 

   “Barnes!” You yelled, steadying yourself and reaching over the edge to grab the blanket back. Your hand fisted at the faux fur and you pulled with all your might to no avail. 

   He swatted you away as though you were a pesky fly and reached over to turn the light of the lamp on. You glowered at him and stood, wrapping the blanket around your arm and pulling upwards. Your arm strained to its capacity but the man on the floor didn’t budge. Only turned his back to you and shut his eyes. You reached over yourself and flipped the switch of the lamp, once again immersing yourself in the comforting darkness. 

   Bucky stiffened and opened his eyes then turned and froze you in your spot with his stare. He reached around and lit the lamp, slowly retracting his arm and daring you to turn it off again. So you did.

   He yanked the blanket from your grasp and threw you back onto the bed, bringing light into the room. “Light stays on,” he growled.

   “No! You’ve had your goddamn way since you stepped foot into this room. Light goes off and I get the blanket!” You shouted, not concerned about anyone else hearing considering the room was soundproof.

   “No. You get the bed so I get the blanket. Tell me how that doesn’t make sense,” he countered.

   You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting that it did, in fact, make sense. The floor here was wooden and clearly uncomfortable, plus he hadn’t even argued about the bed situation. 

   You retreated, “Fine, light still goes off,”

   “No,” 

   “Yes,” 

   Silence fell between the two of you but you weren’t budging. Barnes had faced plenty of monsters, he could handle the dark. 

   “I need the noise to fall asleep,” he admitted and it was then you could hear the slight hum the bulb emitted.

   You didn’t speak for a while but reared back and pulled out your phone, “What do you want to listen to?” You scrolled through a few sounds you had stored on your phone, “We’ve got: nature sounds, frequencies, guided meditations, etc. You name it, but I’m not sleeping with this forsaken light on,”

   Bucky studied you, his expression changing a mile a minute but the one of indifference conquered, “Rain,” 

   You nodded once and selected the audio, placing the phone face up on the nightstand and turning the light off for the last time. Hopefully. You hunkered down into the thin mattress and reached down, grasping at the thick blanket. When you pulled, there was some give. He’d let you get just enough needed to cover your body if you laid at the very edge and your hand hovered in the air when you laid your arm over the side.

   Minutes flew by with your eyes shut and the exhaustion slithered over your body but your mind ran wild with the events from earlier. You tried not to get angry or sad or . . . bothered. Your breathing deepened when you began to succumb to your body’s fatigue and you drifted inch by inch into the welcoming void lulling your name.

   You didn’t hear when he shifted, only managed to register the faint tracing of his fingertips on your hand before finally giving out.

   You weren’t sure what time it was when you opened your eyes for the first time that night. This regularly happened. You’d wake up multiple times during the night to shift positions or throw off the sheets, no matter how insignificant the desire, your body always found a way to wake you for it.

   You opened your eyes slowly to a hazy vision and blinked at the sitting figure on the floor, “Bucky?” You croaked, bringing a hand up to wipe at your face, “What time is it?”

   “It’s almost one, go back to sleep,”

   “What are you doing?” You persisted, ignoring his demand and sitting up slowly, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

   “Couldn’t,” 

   A heartbeat. Then another. And another. He didn’t care to elaborate.

   “Do you want the bed?” You offered, stretching yourself out and already placing yourself down on the floor, “It’s too hot up there, anyway,”

   His attention turned to you for the first time but you’d already began closing your eyes, not really having the energy to argue with him. You could hear shuffling from his spot and the ground disappeared below you, strong hands grasping your body and lifting you up to place you gently back onto the cot.

   “I prefer the floor,” he insisted, wrapping the blanket around you, “Besides, you’re a horrendous liar,”

   You didn’t hold back the singular chuckle, your haze still enveloping you. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

   He sat at the foot of the bed, his hand hovering over your leg in hesitation, “It’s complicated.” He dropped his hand to his side.

   “Isn’t the rain helping?” you mumbled, your sight now adjusting to the dark.

   “Yes,”

   “Then what?” 

   “I just . . . don’t want to wake you,”

   “Well, I’m already awake if that makes you feel better,” you jeered, a small smile forming on your lips.

   “It doesn’t,”

   “Nothing does,” you retorted, the inevitable annoyance you always felt when conversing with him already made its way up into your tone.

   He scoffed and stood from the bed, placing himself in the same spot on the floor with his head leaned up against the wall and his arm resting on his perched knee. 

   “Oh, so now you can’t handle a little attitude,” your tone came out incredulous, “You didn’t have any issues earlier when you blamed me for that guy’s escape. Which, he didn’t even get to do, might I add,”

   “I was projecting,” he replied, gaze still focused on the door opposite to him.

   You blinked, “Are you so tired that you’re actually admitting to being a dick?”

   “I know I can be a dick, but you threw yourself straight into the line of fire twice today. So I don’t really give a shit if I was mean to you,”

   “I only did that because you almost got shot twice today. Don’t take your anger out on me for your incompetence. Just say ‘thank you’ and move on already,”

   “Incompetence?” His head jerked in your direction. “What was incompetent was that you couldn’t keep yourself composed,”

   You sat up. “What in the hell are you talking about? My behavior is what got our target to basically give himself up to us! It was me that trapped him, not you!” His composure tensed and you crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re just mad your dick got hard so if anything you’re the one who couldn’t keep their compos-” His hand was wrapped around your throat and you were pinned to the mattress before you could finish your sentence.

   “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed at you, his face mere inches from yours.

   “Why?” You spoke hoarsely around his tightening grip, “Does the Big Bad Wolf not like that he was turned on? Who’s the prude now?”

   “Turned on?” He spat, his free hand resting by your head to cage you in, “You think what you did earlier turned me on?”

   You grasped at the hand around your throat and pried slightly to speak, “Fight me or fuck me, Barnes. But stop lying to yourself, it’s getting old,”

   The room seemed to freeze over and Bucky paused. His hesitation was enough to elicit the fire from earlier and your legs squirmed a little underneath him. God, you hoped he chose the latter.

   Then his lips crashed against yours. 

   You squeaked at the sudden onslaught but threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him in tighter against you. He dropped when you intertwined your legs, his full weight pressing against you deliciously. You ground up against him, your core aching from the previous hours and the small friction elicited a moan from the both of you. 

   “So impatient,” he scolded, bringing the hand from around your throat down to your hips and pressing you into the bed. “What a whore,”

   His breath danced along your cheek and you mewled at his words. Gods, he was going to be the death of you. Or the beginning. 

   You breathed in deeply, his sandalwood scent intoxicating you in a manner that alcohol never could. When you drank, you were just drunk. But when you took a sip from the tall glass that was Bucky, it brought you to life. Your body sang melodies wherever you were plastered against each other and your skin burned with need.

   Touch me, your body screamed, touch me.

   “Fuck off,” you groaned and Bucky jerked your head to the side, exposing your neck for him to scavenge.

   The goosebumps that danced across your skin when he ran his warm tongue up from the curve of your neck to the bottom of your ear brought an arrogant smirk onto Bucky’s face. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged when he reached a particularly sensitive spot that had your legs shaking when he kissed it sloppily. 

   Your mouth hung open in silent pleasure and your breaths were short and rapid, your body betraying all forms of control you previously had over yourself. The hand that wasn’t residing in his hair trailed down his muscled arm and you gripped at the brawn this man possessed. His skin reminisced lightly of silk despite the rough texture of his hands. 

  The same hands that now made its way into your hair and tugged at the strands at the base of your neck, jolting your chin higher into the air. Your grip tightened around his biceps and the strength they emitted sent a pool rushing to your core. You continued hunting until you found the hem of his black, cotton shirt and you made your way up his taut abdomen. You let out a sigh and he jumped lightly at the sensation of your cool fingertips across his scorching skin. It was a nice contrast for him. 

   You gripped at the shirt and hastily ripped the cotton upward. Bucky broke away from his descent down to your chest to let you remove the fabric and you’d suddenly wished you’d turned the lights on first. He mimicked your action and tossed your shirt in a deserted corner of the room to potentially be abandoned. You gasped when the cold air of the room grazed upon the perked mounds of your breasts. 

   His lips returned to their spot on the dip of your neck and his tongue slithered down in between your breasts. Your breath hitched when his wet muscle made its way up to the apex of your chest. His right hand mirrored his tongue and swirled around your nipple, his teeth pulling eagerly every so often and you hissed at the delectable pain. Your eyes devoured the scene unfolding on your chest and you reached over to flick the light on, desperate for a clearer image.

   Bucky halted and his metal arm reached over to switch the light back off but you swatted his hand away and he backed up lightly, his irritation evident on his face.

   “I want to watch,” you grumbled and shifted up to bring your lips back up to his. He let you. He pushed back lightly with his own lips and leaned in sync with your movements. He parted his mouth slightly and you followed suit, letting him lead his way into yours with the same muscle he’d just had flicking across your breasts.

   The light went off.

   You pushed him away and shot towards the switch but metal met your wrist firmly enough to keep you in place. “Bucky.” You wrestled against his hold and turned your full attention back to the figure hovering above, “I want to see you,” 

   Despite the darkness, you noticed his mouth twitch but his grip on your wrist remained solid. You sprawled back onto the bed and wrapped your free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down onto you, pressing his surprisingly soft lips onto yours. You broke apart, his lips a hair’s breadth away from your own. “I want to see you,” 

   He didn’t move, only scanned your face over a few times and you brought him back down into a kiss. This one wasn’t like before. This one was warm, soft, patient. A ballet compared to its previous mosh pit. He danced along with you, an admission hidden somewhere in his tenderness.

   You hadn’t realized you’d been freed of his hold until you were wrapping that arm over his shoulder and the sound of a light humming began.

   “Fucker,” you jeered and the previous gentleness dissipated.

   “Shut up,” he ordered, pinning you back onto the bed and resumed his ministration on your breasts.

   The moan slipped past your lips at the sight and your chest heaved upwards, desperate for more stimulation. You licked your lips at how his mouth encased your nipple, his tongue flicking against the perked skin and you dropped your head back, shutting your eyes. You centered all of your attention anywhere that his bare skin touched your body and rubbed your aching clit against his v-line. 

   Your chest was pressed against the mattress before you could register what happened and the hard smack that met your ass evoked a yelp. Bucky pressed fully against your backside and he ground his dick down into your ass. He groaned at the sensation and you raised your ass onto him. You yelped again when Bucky ripped your leggings down and smacked the exposed skin on your ass.

   “Try something like that again and I’ll gag you around my cock ‘til you’re crying,” he growled, “Understood?”

   You nodded, wide-eyed and a mewling mess from the threatening promise of this God. 

   “Good girl,” he cooed, rubbing at the raw skin. “Now stay still for Daddy,”

  Bucky’s hand lingered on your reddening ass and the mattress dipped when he shifted to your side. He traced gentle circles onto your backside and pressed his lips on your shoulder blade, the butterfly kisses making their way down towards your spine and then lower. Your breathing grew uneven from the sheer amount of restraint you displayed. Your grip on the edge of the bed tightened when his tongue dragged from the point where your thigh and ass met all the way up to the bottom of your spine.

   “Fuck,” You shuddered, white-knuckling the blanket beneath you.

   Your skin blazed when you were met with another harsh slap. You mewled at the sensation, loving the fire that spread across your flesh and relaxed when his metal hand cooled the area. 

   Then his teeth bit into the cooling flesh and you jerked away despite yourself. Bucky tsked lowly and you chuckled at the hint of fear sprouting in your chest; you did not want to see whatever sinister expression resided on his face. 

   A strong hand gripped the roots of your hair and hauled you up. You followed his direction and knelt onto the ground between Bucky’s sprawled out legs, settling in your new position.

   “Oh, Doll,” he chastised, “you were so close,”

   “That shouldn’t count,” you retorted while Bucky pulled the blanket off the bed and lifted you up with his metal arm, shoving the barrier between your knees and the hard ground.

   “But it does.” His hands dove into his underwear and sprung his cock out onto your lips. “Now get to work,”

   Your eyes widened at the sight before you and you had to physically hold back from gulping. You were ashamed to admit your mouth watered in anticipation. You lifted your hands from his sculpted thighs and wrapped them around his length, enveloping just the tip past your parted lips. Bucky sighed and twitched in your mouth.

   You welcomed him in fully, or as much as you could anyway, and got straight to work, not bothering to act abashed at your desire. Your tongue swirled around his tip and you leaned into him until he hit the back of your mouth but you continued on, gagging around him when he’d gotten inside your throat. Bucky groaned when your throat tightened around him and he threw his head back, using his flesh hand to guide you up and down his shaft, showing you what he liked and didn’t. 

   “Fuck, Doll,” he groaned, “Just how I imagined your mouth would feel,”

   You pulled off him to comment when he shoved you all the way down to the hilt and you threw your hands up onto his thighs to hold yourself back. He used his metal arm to hold himself up and thrusted up into your salivating mouth desperately. He continuously hit the back of your throat and thick saliva coated his cock. Just as he promised, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and he didn’t stop until your cheeks were drenched in the liquid.

   You let your jaw hang open, your tongue no longer swiveling around meticulous spots that you knew would make his legs buckle. No, you let him have the reigns. Let him fuck your mouth ‘til your throat grew bruised and jaw ached with fatigue. You committed his cries of pleasure to memory, the sounds euphoric to your ears. 

   He lifted his head and stared down at you with half-closed eyes. He was in heaven and you knew it. He watched you, how the tears trailed down, how your hands gripped at his thighs, how you stuck out your tongue just as you’d made it to the base of his cock to lick his balls in the most intoxicating way. Fuck. You were the intoxicating one. You brought out this side of him. This carnal desire that became him until he’d had to step out of the room just to compose himself. And he didn’t like being out of control. That’s why he always kept you at an arm’s distance.

   But now, watching as you sat between him with your mouth agape like the good girl that you were for him, he knew he’d never deny himself this pleasure again. Especially since you were so fucking good at it.

   He groaned, pulling you off his cock and grabbed tightly at your cheeks, nearly pinching your mouth together. “Tongue out.” He growled, waiting for your compliance.

   Your jaw ached with exhaustion but you managed to stick out the wet muscle as he pulled you closer into him and watched when he parted his lips above you, letting the saliva trail down from his mouth into yours. 

   “Swallow,” he ordered.

   But it was already done, and you left your mouth hanging open for more.

   “Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky grumbled, putting his face right up against yours and feeding you once again; this time with a sloppy kiss that coated both your mouths in saliva.

   He brought you up from the floor and tossed you onto the bed before settling between your legs. The excitement in your eyes grew and he indulged in every minute of it. Bucky’s hand trailed down from your lower abdomen right above your pubic bone and pressed his palm into your neglected clit. The cry you let out was the unholiest thing he’d ever heard. 

   He slid his finger under the waistband of your underwear and flitted his gaze back up to your eyes, “Can I?”

   You nodded eagerly, dumbfounded that he would even ask and fought the temptation to grab your phone from the nightstand and record everything that was about to unfold. 

   At the first nod, Bucky slid your underwear down your legs and made a show of bringing the material up to his face. Your own went red hot and you hid behind your hands, poking through every millisecond to shamefully watch. He threw the panties into his open duffel and you squirmed in anticipation.

   “Remember the rules?” Bucky asked, brow lifted and already descending to your inner thigh.

   You nodded again.

   “I need to hear it, Doll,” he mumbled, kissing the inner part of your thigh, each placement closer and closer to where you needed him most.

   “Yes,” you whimpered out, “I remember the rules,”

   Bucky wanted to dive right in, he really did, but the way you sprawled yourself out so vulnerable for him, it incited a new pace that he wanted to follow. So, he did. He looked at you for a few moments, watched how the anticipation danced in your eyes, how your legs shook in wait and how you were already so goddamn wet for him.

   “This all for me?” he teased, mesmerized at your desire for him.

   You dropped a hand down to your side, near where his hands were wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place - and against his face. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

   You nodded sheepishly and when he lifted an eyebrow in mock confusion you said, “You. Just you,”

   Like music to his ears. Just him. You weren’t for anyone else. He thought he felt his heart palpitate.

   He lowered himself down to your core and kissed your lip, drawing a desperate plea from you. You couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t deal with the teasing. You were wet enough, needy enough, ready enough to take him, all of him. You’d been ready damn near the moment you first laid eyes on his arrogant smirk.

   “Buck - please,” you cried, drawling out the final word.

   The first kiss placed upon your soaked cunt erupted a sigh of relief and you laid back on the pillow, your eyes closed and mind gone with the sensation of those sloppy kisses blessing your needs. He flattened his tongue on your lips and licked upwards, stopping when your hips twitched into his mouth.

   “Sorry!” You apologized, fighting the desire to grind into his wet muscle. He’d just gotten started and you certainly didn’t want it to end so soon.

   He lifted his gaze up to you and you bit into your fist at the view, using the extremity to hold back your moans. He flicked his attention down again and repeated his motion, lapping at your fluids ‘til his beard was soaked in it. He shook his head into your cunt and his nose rubbed along your clit. The mewling that left your mouth urged him on and when you felt his muscle prodding at your entrance you threw your head back.

   “Please, Bucky.” You begged, bringing a hand up to tease your nipple.

   He prodded some more, his tongue gliding up from your clit and back down to your entrance, poking through enough to frustrate you. He wanted you to break for him. To lose all composure and control and just let him. He wanted you to submit to him but it wasn’t just that, it was more that he wanted to destroy you for any future experience you may have without him. He wanted you to come back to him, to need him, to beg for him and leave you with the understanding that nothing - no one - could compare to him. He wanted you. To himself. 

   So, when he could no longer refrain and had to use his metal arm to hold your hips down from squirming beneath him, he slipped two thick, rough fingers into your begging cunt. And the sound you emitted caused that carnal instinct to claw at the barriers caging it in.

   Your hand shot down, tangling itself into his hair and pushing him harder against you. He allowed it. Your thighs held him in place, crushing him with your soft skin and he groaned at the warmth you gave off. You pulled your hand away from your mouth and grabbed at his metal one resting on your pubic bone, pulling it up to your chest and wrapping his fingers on the sensitive bud for him to tease. He slowly retracted from your chest and brought it back down onto your hips and you huffed in annoyance. You looked down at Bucky but his eyes were shut, completely engrossed in the feast before him. You bucked when his fingers glazed across that sensitive spot inside your velvety walls.

   “There!” You cried, your fist tightening in his hair when the all-too-familiar wave of ecstasy began to pool together, waiting for its release.

   Bucky complied, dragging the pads of his fingers up against that spot over and over again. Your legs caged him in tighter as his tongue swirled over the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves and you cried out at the way your body tensed.

   “Fuck,” you cried, your hands desperately grasping onto Bucky’s metal wrist and tugging at the roots of his hair. Bucky’s groan of pleasure was what tipped you over the edge.

   You gasped when the pool building released, your body shaking with euphoria and the flood crashed down onto you. And apparently, onto Bucky as well. He pulled his mouth away but continued rubbing at your clit when warm liquid squirted onto his face and his expression of surprise mirrored your own.

   When Bucky looked up at you, your face burned with embarrassment and you threw your head back, using your hand to cover your countenance. Not to mention the sight of him with your juices all over his mouth was one of the hottest things you’d ever witnessed.

   Bucky chuckled at your sheepish apology and removed your hand from your face, bringing his soaked mouth up to yours and having you taste yourself. You devoured each other, your arms wrapped tightly around the other, pulling so fiercely at the innate desire to become one in shared pleasure. He could feel his pride swell at your hidden confession. You’d never squirted before and he was lucky enough to be the one to give you that experience for the first time. 

   You clawed at him, divulging in the warmth his body radiated and intoxicating yourself in everything that was Bucky. You couldn’t get enough of it, of him. It was nearly too much.

   His hand trailed up to your gaping mouth and he inserted his fingers, “Clean them,” he ordered.

   Your hand gripped his wrist and pulled his fingers deeper into your mouth, never breaking eye contact with him, loving the way he ate up everything he was seeing. You noticed the way he swallowed.

   He retracted his hand and wrapped it gently behind your head so you were resting on him. He brought his full weight down onto your body and a warmth emanated in your chest when he brought his lips up against your forehead, each kiss closer and closer to your lips until they met their destination. When you parted your mouth against his, it wasn’t merely an action of carnal desire, it was like you were exchanging life forces. Merging and meeting in a manner that had your body exploding and crying out for more of the faint familiarity. Like seeing an old friend for the first time in years.

   Bucky looked down between your bodies at where you were about to connect before staring back up at you, taking you in as if he would never have this opportunity again. His thumb brushed your cheek and came to a rest on your bottom lip. “Ready?”

   You chuckled, “Fuck me,”

   He shoved inside in one clean motion and a breath of pleasure slid past both of your lips.

   “Fuck,” he groaned, his hand tightening slightly around your neck and he pulled out slowly then shot back inside and you moaned.

   You were still so sensitive from your previous climax that every brush against your clit sent you into a whirlwind of pleasure, the sensations shooting through every nerve in your body. 

   “Bucky,” you whined when his pace quickened and the sheer force of his thrusts drove you deeper into euphoria.

   He filled you just right, his girth and length impressive and you wondered why you hadn’t tried to screw him earlier. He slid past your tight walls, each thrust causing the room to echo with the sounds of skin slapping and moans of ecstasy. 

   He kept his actions controlled, not wanting to build up to something so intense just for it to fall short and end fast. No. Despite how good you felt wrapped around his aching and swollen cock, despite how warm and welcoming you were, how you spread yourself out for him to consume, he had to leash himself. This was going to be just as good for you as it was for him. 

   He kissed you one last time before gripping the back of your knees and bringing your thighs up to your chest, a shout of praise falling off your lips. He was drunk on the sight of his cock going in and out of your cunt and he threw his head back with a groan.

   “What a fucking pretty pussy,” he breathed out and you whimpered, biting your lip at the welcome profanities.

   At this angle, he was fucking against your g-spot and using his pubic bone to rub against your clit and watching the thin layer of sweat sheen off his skin was all too much to keep yourself put together. His eyebrows scrunched together and you caught him taking in your form, watching how your pleasure displayed itself on your face for him to bear witness to. Only him.

   He growled at the intrusion of thoughts that came to him. He pictured someone else in his position, someone else witnessing you so vulnerable and open to them, someone else fucking you and making you beg for them. It disgusted him. He brought his torso down and latched his teeth to your neck, biting down hard enough to have you tearing up.

   “Mine,” he growled into your ear and lulled his head forward when you tightened around him.

   A sinister smirk came to his face and he licked the shell of your ear, your breathy moans feeding him, “You like that?” He asked, pistoling further into your cunt and you shouted at the increase of pace, “You like when I tell you who you belong to?”

   Your mouth hung agape and the one arm wrapped around his shoulder pulled him closer to you, your desperation for his warmth taking control. “Fuck . . . off,” you hissed between breaths.

   He pulled out and yanked you up by your hair, twisting you around and pressing your torso into the wall but keeping your ass propped up for him to admire. You hissed at the pain when a sharp smack met your ass and your hands gripped at the wall for any way to ground yourself and prevent from becoming putty in his hands.

   Another hard smack met your ass and you lurched forward to get away from the sting. Bucky kept your head pinned to the cement, his hand holding your cheek from scraping the wall but applying a pressure that had your tongue lolling out of your mouth. 

   You moaned at the intrusion in your pussy and he plummeted in and out, a mix of your grunts and groans bouncing around the room. His pace constantly changed. One second it was fast, the next it was slow but filling, going so far as to hit your cervix a few times and leave you a crying mess under his hold. Your shoulder scraped along the wall and you fought to push away only to have your chest slammed harder against the cement.

   You brought a hand out, reaching behind yourself and grasping for Bucky’s hip, pushing him deeper into you when he slowed. Your nails dug into his flesh and the sound of his hiss shot straight to your core. 

   “What a goddamn whore,” he spat, bringing his teeth down onto your neck and you gripped at his hair.

   You laughed at his statement, “You’re the one that can’t get enough of this pussy. Why so desperate to claim it? Afraid I'll fuck someone else?” Bucky pulled you back and slammed you against the wall with vigor, causing you to flinch

   He stopped his thrusts altogether, “My patience only goes so far, Doll,” he threatened, tugging at your hair and you bit back a cry, “Choose your words wisely,”

   You nodded hastily, the rough texture of the wall digging into your cheek and splitting skin. You wriggled up against him to continue moving but he retracted completely and flipped you over so he was laying on the bed and you were straddling him.

   “Move,” he ordered, his hands digging bruises into your waist.

   You leaned over, pressing your chest against his to lift your hips up and down on him but he pushed you back up and held your arms behind your back to keep you in place. You whimpered but the cry quieted when you rubbed your clit against him and your pussy clenched at the friction. You moaned out a breathy fuck and swiveled your hips around his, noting how much deeper he filled you in this position.

   “Buck-” you huffed, eyes glued to the glistening abs beneath you. “I’m gonna cum,”

   “Already?” He jeered, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

   You’d lost all energy to sneer at him, your focus solely on how the sensation grew and began pooling in your cunt. “Cock . . . so good,” you breathed out, barely able to keep yourself from melting into him.

   “What was that, Doll?” He stilled your movements and you groaned in annoyance.

   You wriggled in his hold and you could tell by the furrow of his brow that he was fighting to keep control as well. You leaned over him, your lips hovering over his, “Mine,”

   His grip flew to the back of your neck and he crashed your lips onto his, giving you full reign again. You bounced your hips on his dick, slamming down vigorously and rubbing your clit in effect. It didn’t take long for your climax to build again.

   “’M gonna . . .” you whispered and Bucky placed you back up, gripping your hips and swiveling you around how you were earlier.

   “Cum, Doll,” he allowed, “Cum all over this cock,”

   You cried out, your toes curling as the dam in your core snapped and your climax washed over you. You hadn’t realized your fingers were intertwined with Bucky's until you came back down from your high, your chest heaving for breath.

   He sat up slowly and pressed his lips against your neck. “You’re beautiful,”

   Your body tensed at his words and you pulled away to give him a look of confusion. But he didn’t take his statement back, only slipped his hands around your back and gently placed you onto the bed, hovering over you.

   He moved with caution, like his gentleness might scare you off if he touched you too tenderly or stared too long in admiration. But he couldn’t help it, he did admire you.

   He spread your legs open and nestled between them, pushing into you slowly until your hips met and you both breathed out. His movements weren’t nearly as brutal as they were earlier, these thrusts were slow and deep and full of intention. He brought his torso down onto yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you.

   He ran his hand, the only one he allowed himself to touch you affectionately with, through your hair and stared down at you, waiting. His gaze shifted between your lips to your eyes and he ran his thumb delicately along your mouth.

   You looked at him then, really looked at him with fresh eyes and your heart leapt into your throat at the realization. “Kiss me,” you whispered and he lowered himself onto your lips, setting off an explosion in your chest.

   “I’m yours,” he whispered, not able to bring himself to look at you, “I’ve been yours,”

   You opened your mouth to respond but he silenced you with a deep thrust and a moan erupted instead. He quickened his pace, watching where you connected and pushed deeper and harder, your cries of pleasure driving him. He had to fuck you, he couldn’t love you, he couldn’t make love to you, just fuck. That’s it. He couldn’t allow himself to replay your look of shock at his confession, though the scene would surely be on loop for the next few days until he could get over it. Just fuck. Nothing more. Not with that look of disbelief on your face.

   He held himself up with his forearms but you pressed him against you and wrapped your legs tighter around him. “Harder,” you whispered and he complied.

   He groaned when your tits bounced and brought his mouth to a nipple, the faint taste of sweat lingering on your skin. You brought his metal hand up to your chest and made him grip the flesh there but he pulled it back and placed it beside your head instead.

   “Bucky,” you whimpered and grabbed his hand again, bringing his open palm up to your lips and placing delicate kisses on the metal. “You can feel with it, right?”

   He nodded, hesitance sprawled on his face.

   “Then touch me,” you urged, bringing the hand down between your bodies and pressing the cold metal against your clit, “Feel me,”

   His brows furrowed slightly but the look of your certainty forced him to dismiss his own perceptions of his body; or rather, that arm. And when he began rubbing circles into your bundle of nerves the expression on your face made him hate it a little less. Only a little.

   You stared up at him, his pace growing erratic and sloppy and you knew he was close. “You wanna cum?” 

   He nodded, his hot breath coming out haggard and strained. You placed your hand on his cheek and brought him up to your kiss.

   “Then cum,” 

   He shook his head, “You first,” he swirled his finger around your swollen clit and you gasped at the force of his thrust.

   Your body tensed and you centered all your focus on his ministrations, “A little more pressure,” you directed and he quickly found a pressure that had you wobbling in the knees. “Close,” you murmured, gripping Bucky’s side and bringing your lips up to his neck to pepper the skin there.

   He groaned and judging by the way his dick twitched inside you, you knew he wasn’t far behind. 

   “Bucky,” you whispered, pulling his attention towards you and his gaze brought you closer to the edge, “I’m yours,”

   He blinked and his pace faltered for half a beat. He examined your facial expression, like he didn’t believe the words you’d spoken. Not like he couldn’t believe them, but like you’d said them just to appease him. 

   You placed your forehead against his, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to center yourself in the haze of this fucking. “Yours,” you repeated, all the emotion residing in your chest poured into the singular word. 

   And then he was back to drilling you into the mattress, a new vigor fueling his thrusts. You cried out and Bucky pressed his sweaty torso flat against your own and it felt like the essence, the being, in your chest intermingled with his own and all the climaxes you’d previously experienced couldn’t hold a match to the flame, the intensity, the rawness of the one that washed over the both of you in that moment.

   Bucky moaned out, his hips bucking into yours and you rode out both of your highs. The sensation consuming and overwhelming and welcome on both ends as it flooded through your bodies, meeting at your point of contact.

   His arms flexed above you with the ferocity of his climax and the display had you writhing beneath him, already desperate for more.

   “Buck,” you whispered when his breathing evened out after he collapsed onto you.

   He didn’t respond, afraid it had all been a dream, a trick, despite still being inside you. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to shatter the perfection of this moment. What if you’d only said that to get him to finish faster? What if you’d only fed him what he wanted to hear? What if-

   “Buck,” you repeated, pulling him from his daze and he lifted his head only slightly. You gripped his chin lightly and forced him to look you in the eye. “You’re . . . mine?”

   He wanted to shake his head, to tell you that he got caught up in the moment but instead he said, “Yours,” because he knew anything else would be a lie and he was tired of lying.

   You studied him and nodded, “Yours,” you stated, already rolling your eyes from the smirk forming on his face, “Unfortunately,”

   He brought your face to his and planted a tender kiss on your lips. He started shifting his position and grabbed the underwear he’d been wearing earlier before pulling out and using the cloth to clean the mess pooling out of you. But not before taking a mental picture, of course. 

   After a few minutes of laying together, his hand playing with a few strands of hair, you felt the warm welcome of sleep beginning to drag you into its embrace. You opened your eyes groggily and looked up at Bucky who was already looking down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

   “I know about your night terrors,” you whispered and his actions halted momentarily before returning to brush through your hair, “I hear you sometimes. And I understand why you don’t want to go to sleep but,” you sat up slowly and placed the thick blanket down on the floor, dragging the pillow down with you and patting the open space beside you, “you should rest. I’ll be here to calm you or stay up with you. Whichever one you need,”

   He didn’t move at first, his ears drowning out any thought he could have while processing what you’d said. He’d stayed silent so long you’d thought you’d crossed a line.

   “I can always sleep on the bed if you’d prefer, though,”

   Bucky shook himself from his thoughts and edged closer to the floor, slowly descending into the available space and wrapping the blanket around the both of you as much as he could. “No,” he said, “I want you here,”

   You hummed in response and snuggled into his waiting arms, lightly wrapping your own around him, making sure to kiss the part of himself he hated the most before fatigue swept you up into its clutches. Bucky followed soon after. 

[aspiring-writer-hidden-voice]

Conference Tip-Off: Keigo “Hawks” Takami x Fem!Reader

F!Reader x Various series; pronouns are “She/Her”; Quirk: “Daze”: meaning that you can create almost tangible illusions so long as those caught within your range were tired enough (like those halfway dreams that you’re aware of what’s going on but at the same time not). Hero Name: Night Owl. Age: All characters are 18+

Warnings: Fluff, language, artillery, dark themes, adult content: nudity.

Prelude: You’ve been working yourself harder in preparation for the upcoming hero conferences and you are head of the business charged with organization. The conference went off with great success, leading to multiple agencies signing private contracts with your business in hopes that their future events will be as well. You received a tip that someone is out to sabotage your conference and decide to take matters into your own hands.

Your gaze flittered across the seemingly endless sea of guests, carefully checking over each person quickly for any signs of injury or panic as the small group of villains who had slipped past security took to the nearby stage to gain all person’s attention. From the corner of your eye there was a flash of light followed by several others, most likely the media was eating this up like hogs at a potluck, but you ignored them when the sound of weapons being fired caused the air to fall deathly still. A sigh slipped from between your lips when glancing at the nearby clock tower just barely visible through the nearby window that stretched from the floor to ceiling. The event should have ended hours ago and yet here you were, wearing that loathsome dress that had been hanging in your closet practically begging to be worn that showcased every single curve due to the fact it fit you tighter than a latex suit but it was the only thing you had since you’d been too busy with preparations to properly shop for attire, and felt a twitch settle in in your left eye when feeling the lightest of brushes against your outer thigh.

“Hey, now, look what we have here.” Hot breaths wafted down on you from above that were courtesy of a villain that you’d never seen before yet you remained outwardly stoic even when a long wet appendage appeared within your line of sight. “Damn, boss, this one looks tasty in more ways than one. Let me have a taste?”

The people who had been around you instantly retreated as what you could only assume to be a tentacle snagged your wrists and used them to toss you towards the stage. A telltale crack sounded as you landed to the best of your ability, signifying that a heel had given out completely, and found yourself being roughly forced to your feet by a hand buried in your hair. Bobby pins and decorative clips clattered the floor when the rough fingers caused your hair to tumble out of its confinement to pool down your back in gentle waves. “I take it you’re (L/N), yeah? You’re prettier than all those pictures in them fancy magazines and articles.” Bile rose in the back of your throat when the person who held you lifted you off your feet to dangle like a doll, their heavily shadowed gaze tracing over every inch of your body and leaving you feel disgusted when their Adam’s apple bobbed in a swallow.

“Why are you here? There’s nothing for you to gain by interrupting this conference and honestly how stupid can you be when several of the guests are heroes?” You couldn’t help but scoff as those in question approached the stage while a few broke off from the crowd to handle the villains who were near the exits. “Seriously, the only thing you’re going to manage tonight is making yourselves look like idiots.”

“Ouch, that really hurt,” the villain recoiled slightly as if you’d physically wounded him, a hand rising to clutch at his chest before it extended towards you, “but let’s see how long that pride and bravado of yours lasts without that dress.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as they hesitated. “Oh, wow, let me guess, this is your first time doing this?” Anger shone brightly in their gaze but you ignored it and wiggled your fingers. “If you release me I’ll do it for you since you have no balls to do it yourself.”

A collective gasp rose from those who witnessed yet you could have sworn that somewhere you’d heard a laugh; one that was all too familiar and made your chest warm. So he was here after all, you guessed that your contact had eventually told him of your plan despite you making him swear to not, and though you were upset that the winged hero had been giving you radio silence for a whole month it was still nice to hear he was at least alive. Knowing he was here gave your spine a tingle but you ignored it to better focus your quirk in time to cause the crowd to lower themselves to the floor in submission. The longer those villains thought this was all real the better and it looked like the sedatives that you’d placed in the food was beginning to work judging from how they were alternatively hiding yawns and shaking themselves as if trying to stay awake.

“Eyes forward, princess, it’s rude not to tend to your guest.”

Except for this one. You hadn’t seen him take a single bite or drink yet, meaning that he may not be as susceptible to your quirk as the rest. No matter though. There were other ways of dealing with the situation at hand.

“Ugh, seriously? You couldn’t come up with anything better than ‘princess’?” It honestly had slipped out before you’d noticed, the retort at the lackluster pet name, and the resulting knee that impacted your middle that made your vision swim was nearly caused your concentration to slip. A cough caused saliva to spill from between your glossy lips but you didn’t let your outer appearance waiver. The hand in your hair straightened you with a rough shake as the same wet appendage moved to cup your chin. “Touch me anymore and I swear that it’ll be the last thing you do,” you growled in warning when feeling a certain gaze from somewhere, invisible flames licking their way through the air that spoke of hidden anger, but your own was far more dangerous right now.

It’s been weeks since a certain feathered hero had been home, meaning that you’d been coming home to an empty nest for way too many nights. The large bed all to yourself had been nice and not having to prepare more food for an extra mouth surprisingly made your meal prep easier, yet the loneliness that had accompanied the silence had caused your nerves to become slightly frayed. This was the longest you’d gone without that feather for brains hero and it had somehow unlocked a new ability for your quirk that allowed for a farther span of possibilities. You’d been restricted to nothing out of the ordinary, mild environment changes or extra people, but now you could conjure up things worthy of nightmares that could haunt someone.

All that training of honing your newfound ability may just be put to the test if they decided to proceed with their initial course of action. “Trust me, do that again and you just might meet your maker.”

Their face appeared inches from your own, wafting you with their sickeningly sweet breath that reeked of mints and tobacco. “This princess has quite an attitude.” Your skin prickled at the underlying growl within their tone when they roughly pinned you against the stage’s backdrop with a shove. There was a dark glint within their gaze as it darted across your being once more, the heart in your chest hammering faster and louder as the lesser villains that were part of their group began to snicker. “Thankfully I know just how to deal with pompous stuck up snobs just like yourself.”

A crimson blade appeared against their neck as the wet appendage made to shift your dress’s skirt to the side so that the underlying thigh was accessible. “I think you’ve picked on the kid long enough.”

From the small group of villains rose a chorus of exclamations as the crowd rippled then vanished as you disengaged your quirk with drawn out exhale, unable to help but smirk as the one still holding you stared with wide eyes. “Y-you’re really stupider than you look. Of course this wasn’t the actual location of the conference, idiot, its long since over but we caught wind that your little gang were planning on making an appearance so we decided to throw a party anyway.” The unbroken heel of your shoe met the top of their foot, earning a yelp and sudden release, the palm of your hand lashing out but instead of a slap you patted their cheek as if they were a child.

Amber readily met your gaze, silently asking if you were alright with a slight dilation of their pupils to which you gave the briefest of nods while raising a hand to lightly brush your fingertips against the hidden feather that was tucked within the dress, and winked while being led away by one of the heroes who hadn’t been apart of your mirage. “You and I are going to have a nice long chat,” you heard him tell the villain once they had turned around to see just who was standing there and internally relishing as the feather in your possession grew warm.

He was definitely going to rip into that poor unsuspecting villain.

You almost felt sorry for them until they began screaming vanities at your retreating form and gratefully slipped within the awaiting car that would take you home. The cell was retrieved from between your cleavage, you gotta love that secret little storage space sometimes, and with a few presses of buttons raised it to your ear in wait for the ringing to connect. Rain lightly pattered against the windows as the car began moving through the dark silent streets, your gaze rising to the black sky as the driver asked if you wanted to stop by somewhere for food fist. “No, straight home, please. If I eat anything now I’ll just be up all night and I know a certain someone would not be happy with that.”

They chuckled. “That would probably be wise, miss. Nonetheless I shall return you home shortly.”

“Thank you.” Your brows rose as the line finally connected. “Took you long enough. Looks like you were right. How’d things on your end go?”

“Nearly bored me to death.”

“Aw, poor baby,” your tongue clicked in mock sympathy, earning a chuckle from the voice on the other end, “thanks for keeping an eye on the actual conference when I left.”

“Bird Boy’s back in town now, Night Owl, go get some sleep already.” And the line went dead.

Before you’d realized it the car had come to a stop during the short conversation and the door was open on your right with a hand waiting to assist in helping you step out. Your fingers lightly rested against the driver’s larger while accepting their assistance, flashing an appreciative smile as they shielded you from the now pouring rain with an umbrella, and bowed your head in gratitude when they had successfully escorted you to the front door where you slipped inside.

Darkness and silence once again greeted you as the door was closed with a swing of your leg. This was your home and there was nothing that could touch you here as you quickly shed the ruined pair of heels next to the door with kicks. Slender fingers rose to work out the knots that had appeared thanks to the villain, softly cursing underneath your breath as you made your way upstairs to the master suite where the trusty detangeler brush and spray would be found. A frustrated huff rose up your throat when flipping the light that blinded you for a moment and sighed when it instantly disappeared so that you were surrounded by darkness once more. “That was fast even for you,” you softly hummed when hands appeared as if from nowhere to gently untangle the mess that was your hair as something wet was spritzed then they disappeared to be replaced by things much slimmer, “but I’m glad.”

Lips descended upon the junction that was your neck and shoulder. “As if I could focus on anything else when knowing you’d be here, alone, and wearing that just rubs salt on the wound too.” Something warm and wet darted out to lightly caress the pulse in your neck. “You have no idea how much I’ve fucking missed you, kid…”

More soft hums rose up your throat as what you recognized as feathers carefully worked out the knots as his hands drifted down to find the one of cloth sitting behind your neck then fell to rest in the curves of your waist as the dress pooled around your feet. The gloves were gone, allowing the pads of his fingers to caress your skin freely as the chill that should have invaded your being at the loss of clothing was stemmed off by a pair of large red wings that wrapped around you from behind.

“You did so good…” a kiss was placed against your skin, “…so damn proud of you…” he sighed against your skin while pressing an open mouthed kiss, “…such a strong one you are…” his lips trailed up towards the sensitive shell that was your ear as one hand rested against your stomach that earned a grunt from you. “I wanted to tear that villain apart when I saw him hit you. Would’ve if the others hadn’t been there.”

“You know it takes more than that to get me down.” You purred lowly while turning in his embrace so that he was forced to walk backwards until the bed met the backs of his legs and stared down at him as he landed with a light impact upon the duvet, amber eyes shining like twin embers still lingering with suppressed anger. A tremor wracked across his being when your fingers rose to tail a nail down the length of the feather resting between your breasts, brows rising when he snatched your wrist and in the blink of an eye you found yourself being pinned to the bed with him above you, wings now visibly poofed thanks to the flickering lightning outside that was courtesy of the thunderstorm growing in strength.

His nose trailed along the length of your own as the heat his body radiated caused your own to unconsciously seek it out by arching until your bare front brushed against his, a sigh sounded as instead of clothing you found his torso bare, nibbling your lips in slight excitement when the anger within his gaze turned into something more exotic. “Don’t think you’re gonna get away with the little stunt you pulled earlier, I know all about how you roped Dabi into helping you with the conference and making sure that those villains went after the right venue.” Teeth grazed across your throat as he growled lowly. “Naughty little baby bird was also working much later than she said all those times I called to check on you.”

Heat erupted within your veins as the softness of his feathers teased you but you hadn’t been the only one keeping secrets this last month and you definitely weren’t about to let him off without proper punishment. “Says the one who went overseas without telling me.” A smirk raised your lips as with a twist of your being caused him to become the one on bottom, with you straddling his hips, eliciting a deep throated groan from him as you swayed your hips. “I’d say the naughtiest person here is you, Keigo, and I want to hear an apology.”

A scoff sounded from the pro hero beneath you. “Baby bird is going to have—agh!”

The smirk raising your lips grew as his retort was lost thanks to the fact that your hands had descended upon his wings where they trailed from the joints all the way down to the farthest tips that left him in a whimpering mass of putty for you to mold however you wish. “You’re going to be a good boy and take your punishment for leaving me in the dark the whole month you were gone.” Your nails lightly drug across the feathers that were longest when he didn’t respond. “Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,” he croaked with a voice so raw that your core warmed with anticipation when feeling a hardness grow beneath you, “I-I’ll be a good boy—”

Your hand rising to lightly take hold of his throat caused words to dissolve into a wanton moan. “That’s right, be good for mommy and take your punishment like a big boy.”

[nonokoko13]

Child!reader being adopted by spy x family characters Pt. 2

As I said in the previous part, these adoption headcanons are really specific, including your hypothetical pronouns and name; these two are extra so you can imagine yourself with your name and desired gender. You can ask for less specific headcanons if you want too. Part 1 here

Enjoy!

Sylvia Sherwood

How you met

She carries the responsibility of WISE, she needs to be committed to it. More than ever now that the peace was threatened every day by those who wanted war to arise again

She missed her family, but she overcame it. Just like the HQ she had to be impenetrable

At least, that's what she thought

Because right in front of her there was the question which answers she wanted to hear. A kid.

It would be normal to see one if she wasn't at the HQ

It didn't help no one knew there was a kid there until you spoke up

The camera system didn't record you and there wasn't any entrance to the agency that had been forced. You weren't any employee's kid either

After scolding them and order to search your parents she met you again

"Hello little one. May I ask you how did you get in here?"

You smiled, seeming to have been waiting her to ask

"Because I like to play and explore! And I'm really good at hide and seek"

Sylvia raised an eyebrow. No matter how well someone was good at hiding there was no way you could break into the HQ; it sounded surrealistic

"But how did you find this place?"

"Because it was easy to find"

"Don't you think you could end bad breaking into unknown places?"

"If I don't know what isthis place how I'd know that?"

Fair enough

That conversation wasn't going anywhere, yet she was angrier with the security staff than you. You didn't look worried though

You gave her an idea

"Do you want to play with me?"

Both entered in the nearest police station, she talked with the officers before telling you to count until 1000 while she was going to hide. You started the count facing a wall

She felt bad, but there were some traffickers she had to catch before they made the exchange

She was following their car; everything fine until she believed to see a small hand greeting her from the car's trunk

She returned to the police station to find out that moments later of her departure you disappeared without anyone realizing. She went to the point where the delivery would be made

Outside the abandoned warehouse there was no signal that you were there until she saw you getting out from under the car on the other side

Something caused a shooting that would make the police come and caught her at any moment. The bands kept shooting at each other while you were behind a transport container

"What were you thinking?! I told you to stay with the police!"

"I'm sorry, I counted until I know, then I saw you following the car, so I followed too. But before they caught me I hid in there...I'm sorry..." You pulled out a walkie-talkie

"I got two from the police station. I left one in there so the others thought the guys of that car were betraying them, it should have worked to scape with no bad guys seeing us"

She was impressed. However, there was no time to ask where you learn that from

Analyzing the situation the principal scape was blocked, fortunately they hadn't noticed you yet so–

You pulled her shirt, pointing somewhere else

"Let's get out"

General headcanons

Sylvia was still surprised that your plan of exiting through a rear window she hadn't seen and walk away without hurry could work

She stopped walking to watch you smash the walkie-talkie and take out some matches to burn it

"Now they can't find footprints!"

The police may not get answers about it but she had many questions for you

She lied to you about the HQ, after the shooting her lie was on the floor. Thenceforth Sylvia's not able to tell if you were playing along and keeping her secret or you have no idea what's all about

You thought her name was Handler. When you knew she was called Sylvia Sherwood you pointed your hoody logo and say "S of Super, you're superman–Superwoman!"

That's how she begun to be mistaken with an endearing mother and her son. She was superwoman and you "kid", because you said that's how you were called, along with child, shrimp, demon...

"That's unacceptable". She handed you lists of names to choose, unfortunately no one convinced you

It wasn't until you two went to a jewelry store that you found the name

The casual way you break in HQ when you want still frustrates her, how do you do it?? You don't see big deal though

Fullmetal lady didn't remember how tough was motherhood

Anyone would freak out if they found out about spies. Yet there you are, admiring flying guys in underpants

Sylvia asked you about your family, but you always tell the same: you lived with dad until he left you with a woman that he said was your mom

The Handler found out your father is a repeat offender, currently on a maximum security prison in another country. Both him and the woman without offspring legally

"Please, don't tell me one of his criminal records is jailbreaking"

The informant doubted "Actually, that's the main one"

"..."

The Forgers

Scenario where it's up to both of them to adopt you. To keep Loid's mental sanity safe it will be independent of the timeline where Yor has a kid on her own, feel free to imagine both kids being Anya's siblings at the same time. You can ask me to include that idea if I write more about this

How you met

As I said before Twilight wouldn't adopt anyone due his job, only one kid for Operation Strix and that was Anya. For now Yor didn't want more kids, she loves Anya and that's enough for them

Not for Anya. She wanted a little sibling

All started talking with Becky when Damian mentioned his brother. Back at home she brought the topic and neither Pa or Ma were giving her an answer of where babies come from

That's when she begun to feel like being a sister. Any plan helped her to convince her parents though

Anya remembered something Mr Henderson told them. "If you want something, take it into your own hands"

And she took it too seriously

Next day Anya and Bond disappeared, she was in the dogs park with Yor

While Mrs Forger panicked Anya had returned to the place she met Twilight

As the time passed the Forgers worried more. When they found Anya and Bond at their building's door they felt relieved

Your presence didn't make things better

They asked Anya where she had been and where did you come from. She said she adopted you

Of course Anya wasn't going to say she broke into an orphanage and took you

Loid's scolding made you cry

"Anya, we aren't adopting–"

"If she's not my sister I won't go to school ever again!!"

"Just for a trial period" that's what Loid hoped

General headcanons

Loid thought babies were easy because it's unnecessary (more impossible) communication with a living being that can't talk; after all babies only have basic needs. He was wrong

It would be easier if you could talk. Why are you crying? You have eaten! Are you sad? Cold? You dislike him?

Yor is not better either. Because her parents died when Yuri was a kid Yor didn't have experience with changing diapers, or anything related with babies

She was more scared than Loid to the point she didn't want to hold you. She broke Yuri's ribs with a hug when he was a toddler, what if she kills you with few contact?

In less than 24 hours you already had a crib and all kinds of things a baby would need. However, having three bedrooms and parents sleeping in separate rooms meant all your things ended in Anya's room

You cried at night until they discovered you calmed down when Anya let you a plushie to hug

She can't wait for the day pa and ma share bed to take back her bedroom

The second night Anya had an idea

Ma is scared of being your mom, solution? Leave you in her bed while Yor is asleep imagining that would work

Thanks God Yor doesn't move much when sleeping. On the other hand Yor is a light sleeper due not being used to sleep with someone so she woke up minutes later

She almost jump out of the bed, realizing that would make you cry made her contain. You groaned, did she wake you up? Yor wasn't sure of holding you, instead she laid down again and approached you to her chest

Seeing you so peaceful by her side melted her, thinking about it you looked a bit like her and Loid.. She blushed at the embarrassing thought

Bold of them to not imagine that's why Anya chose you

In the morning Loid discovered what happened and had a little words with Anya during breakfast before she went to school

Yor went to work and he decided to take a day off from his work to spend the morning with you. The Handler said the first days you should see them to recognize faces

Walks with Bond, buying toys, trying to teach you sign language...Normal stuff

Loid is glad you don't do anything but sleep and eat, except your obsession with munching. When you first kissed Yor he found it normal until you munched her cheek and now you do that to everyone; probably you're teething

Yor found it really cute, but you shouldn't go kissing and chewing cheeks. Anya thinks is funny just don't try to chew her hair again please

Another problem came with names. Loid was going through a list of 850 names in alphabetical order, meanings included; Yor didn't take it to the extreme

"Hum, what about Rose? I think it's a cute name, I mean it's both decision and I'm not good with names Loid–"

Welcome to the family Rose

A spy, an assassin, a telepath and... Well, a baby. Seems like a good mix

Yor Briar

As we know Twilight only would adopt for Operation Strix's sake. Yor became mother by marrying Loid, but what if she had already a kid before being Mrs Forger?

Inspired by this post of @say-seira

How you met

Long ago before Twilight adopted the identity of Loid Forger, the Briars moved to a flat in Berlint

While the eldest sibling had recently become an adult Yuri was only a kid, Yor decided to move to the city so he had nearer his school. It was possible due her proper salary as Thorn Princess

This change would make her job easier too. She had a new client which death could pay Yuri's entrance to a good university

There was a politician who negotiated with terrorists, helping them to get into Ostania and providing them with weapons in exchange to gain good propaganda abroad and getting rid of competition

Knowing this was enough to make Yor's blood boil. He deserved to die, she was sure of it

Struggling with the security around him, Yor finally killed the target without leaving trace

The only inconvenience was a bad injury made by a bullet that she received. After removing the bullet the wound got worse

She went to the hospital to avoid an infection. In the waiting room she met a kind lady, Yor swore that she had seen her before

The woman was scared, but Yor reassured her she will wait her

While Yor was attended the girl was taken to another room. As she promised, Yor waited in the hall after her wound was treated; with a buttoned medical gown on because she didn't want to attract more attention due the bandaged wound in sight

Time passed and many people enter and exit from the room, but she didn't. A nurse carrying something mistook her for one of the staff and scolded her for standing there

"Here, take the baby to the nursery"

"Me? But— wait! What about the woman? Is she okay?"

From afar she heard the answer, but before Yor could explain the error the woman had left. She was shocked, how? She seemed fine

Against her will the dark-haired looked at the lump she was holding: rosy cheeks babbling in dreams, you were in peace

Her shock grew when she saw you shared the username that the man she killed had. That's why the woman was familiar: she was the politician's daughter

Yor searched someone who hand the baby when she recognized the doctor that guided the woman to the room, he was talking with a masked nurse

The fact they went to a private place and maintained their voices low made her suspect

"Did you take care of the mother?" the nurse asked

"Yes, they got ahead of us with her father but I think they will pay us anyway. When they found it was a medical negligence we'll be far from here"

Yor understood they were assassins as well, probably paid by a rival. Luckily they hadn't seen her yet

"Heh, do you they will pay more if we got rid of the baby?"

Yor left the hospital with you, unsure of what to do. Did you have more relatives? The widowed politician didn't have more kids, and your mother came alone. What if they wanted to kill the rest of the family?

A small hand grabbed hers, and every fear disappeared. Looking at each other, she knew you were safer with her. Perhaps it was only guilt or sympathy, but she would try

General headcanons

The moment Yuri saw Yor holding you was in disbelief. Yor said she found you in the streets and he believed it

At first he tried to convince her sister to leave you in a orphanage but once scolding was enough to cease

Still disliking you for the first months. It took some time until he saw you like one of his family

Yuri helped, although they had a rough time because you refused to eat Yor's purees. Your endurance might grew up to make you the only person who can eat her food without bleeding but it doesn't mean you like its flavor

She viewed you as a sibling until you were two, being called mom made Yor too happy to correct you. Yuri was just Yuri, you never feel like using formalities with him or addressing "Uncle" everytime you talked

Yor decided to let your belongings, it was better that way. When you were older, and only if you wanted, she would tell you the truth

She's bad with names, Rose was the only name she could think of but you're a boy. Yor's parents loved that Yuri and her had matching names, therefore you would be the sweet addition to it

The only name I could think of is Yuu because it's gender neutral and means "you" sorry

During the first year of your life she didn't try to hide the blood of her clothes from you. Yuri never suspected either and you wouldn't remember it when you grow up

Your lack of childhood amnesia was something she didn't have in count. Not that she knows you know anyway

Yor has been training you since you were able to walk, if she wasn't there when you needed at least you would be ready to defend yourself. Proud to say you're her strong boy

That said, if the assassins that tried to killed you found were you lived it's something you ignore. Being the protective mother Yor is they could be dead by now

Six years later, it was still Yor and you against the world, with Yuri being the only paternal figure you had. Before one day she met a man and everything changed

She said he will help her by accompanying her to a party so Yuri stopped worrying about her. She said it would be one night, and the next morning you woke up with Yor waiting to talk with you

In part she accepted because of you; you passed the Eden exam before knowing you needed a dad for it. That requisite seemed stupid for you, as you reassured her you could go to any other school; now you would be accepted into the best school!

You agreed and started packing. What else you could do? The decision was made before you were asked anyway, and you didn't want to argue with your mom because she was doing it for your future too

Of course it affected you. No matter how nice they were it was a huge change; in one day you had to move to a new place which didn't feel like home and live with strangers who you'll have to share mom with isn't easy

Anya was nervous too, but for different reasons. She was so excited to meet her soon-to-be sibling! For her, who was an orphan last week, having a pa, a ma and a friend to play with was great

Her expectations went down when she read your mind. You didn't think bad of them, but excited wasn't the word to describe your emotional state either

Loid may not be good at understanding children, but it was clear for him you wasn't comfortable. For him would be weirder if you didn't seem affected at all

On the contrary, Yor seemed cool with all of this to you. Even without any idea of how to be a wife or mother for Anya she enjoyed her time as Forger, which confused you a bit

Yor is happier, not only because she didn't have to worry about the SSS or Yuri anymore. They make her happier, it's just matter of time she could fall for Loid and have a baby that was her own, real kid

Being sure Yor loves you and your new family want you to feel welcomed doesn't make disappear the feelings you carry with. Still, if mom is happy you prefer to keep it to yourself and try to maker her smile too

If it wasn't because Yuri hates the idea of her sister hiding her marriage for a year and sympathized your situation he would have laughed at the irony when you told him during your uncle-nephew walk the next day of his meeting with "Loiloi"

He doesn't know they got married before you attended school so he assumed you had been holding it for a long time. He passed his fingers through your hair

"I understand it's difficult, but I'll be for you whenever you need me"

+ Honorable mention to compensate you for the mild ansgt without warning

Daybreak

We don't know much about him but I included this dork for fun

Thinking about "Daybreak" and "parenthood" makes anyone's mind stopped working

Mainly because it's difficult to say which one would be the child

Not "How you met headcanons" because he wouldn't be able to adopt to begin with

From what we saw in chapter 27 he seems to live alone, depending on his amazing spy career to afford pork steak for dinner. So he must not live too good given that after his first mission he was fired

If he had a child, it would be likely because of a previous relationship he had and didn't end well

He didn't adopt you. You're his biological kid, the only not adopted of this gang

Sorry we can't choose our family good luck ig

Not necessarily ended bad, even remaining as friends, your mother took a different path and is happily married with another man

If she knew he wanted to be a spy either thought "it's a joke" or *sigh*

She was who brought money in the relationship, now you live with her and your step-dad but at the beginning you didn't want to

Daybreak talked with you and promised you could visit each other and even live with him when he could afford it

They don't get it

Who would take care of him? The idea of living on his own was frightening to you

Imagine being father and is your kid who worries about whether pops know how to pay taxes without mom

You took after him in terms of appearance. Any signal of intelligence was from your mother

Average smart but surely smarter than him

Probably he thanked God that you were a boy. He will love whatever you are but he was relieved of saving himself of buying female products when you were on that time of the month and guide you through puberty

As much as he says to be a charming man he's not good with women either so

Your name is Sunny. Guess who chose it

Probably you see him more on weekends than during the week

Until you showed him Spy Wars he didn't have no idea that existed such good series

Of course not cooler than the legend he is but Daybreak jokes about how reading that and seeing your cool pops in action would make you half as good spy as he is someday

Quite sad is that your common sense along with the things you see on TV are enough to be better spy material

You try to watch it with him to see if he learns something

Unsure of what you'll be in the future but in the mean time you had fun watching cartoons and liking kids stuff like dinosaurs and skateboard

Current status: Busy with your first year at school and getting him out of trouble

[polyghostfacehours]

Stu and billy with a scaredy-cat s/o who is unaware of their hobby. Where one late night s/o walking back from work and gets chased around by ghost face cuz their assholes and like seeing the fear on their partners face. Idk how to type lolz

Heya! Loved this prompt, sorry it took forever. I took this a SFW route, wanted to really showcase how big of dicks these two could be to an easily-scared S/O. Also wanted to explore some of the less than savory aspects of this relationship.

TW: Mild Abusive Relationship Dynamics. Dissociative Episode. Billy and Stu scaring their SO for funsies. Billy liking when you cry.

Spine Chilled - poly!Ghostface x GN!Reader:

---

You really, really wish you would've taken the bus home.

This had been a bad idea form the get-go. Walking home alone at night while there was a killer on the loose? A smooth-brained decision on your part. If this was a horror movie you would've been dead twice over by now.

Your one saving grace was the moonlight blanketing the neglected road ahead, illuminating your way. It was a peaceful night. The air smelled like rain and pinewood, and the stars were diamonds, twinkling and flashing in the dark night. Or rather, that's the metaphor you would've used under normal circumstances. Right now, they seemed more like warning lights blinking in Morse to warn you of the danger trailing behind you.

You had taken notice of the figure stalking you a couple of streets back. You hadn't been able to take a good look at him yet, the fear of letting him know you were aware of his presence stopping you from doing so. Sending a text to Billy and Stu that you were walking home along Buckwood Road, a shortcut street that ran between two wooded areas and had only a few houses that you had been on countless times, had done little to assuage your fears of getting gutted alive that night.

The reflective black screen of your flip phone showed that your pursuer was still behind you. Still hiding behind trees and the few cars that were along this path. They weren't doing a very good job of it though, leaving their covers too soon; they made too much noise and stepped on twigs too often. Almost as if they wanted you to notice them

That thought sends ice down your spine.

Up ahead, a lamp post shined upon the exit of the rather secluded road, and the surefire signs of a suburb entrance had relief flooding through you. You quicken your pace, and your nails clench into your palms when your ears pick up that so does he.

Unable to stave the desire off any longer, you look over your shoulder, and dread floods within you at the sight. No longer was the mysterious stalker hiding, rather he was now blatantly following you, matching your brisk pace. But that's not what had your stomach twisting and turning, threatening to shoot acidic bile up your throat with every passing second.

It was the mask.

Ghastly white and slightly shiny from the dewy humidity. Seeing the cheap plastic felt like getting struck with glass shards straight into your pounding heart, and honestly you would've preferred that in the moment. It was him. The killer.

Ghostface.

Your speed walk broke into a speed run. Fuck this. You weren't taking anymore chances. This guy would kill you if you didn't book it. You swear you hear a sharp laugh behind you as the sound of boots hitting wet pavement echoed and reverberated off the loomingtrees surrounding the road.

Your lungs burned and sweat began dripping down your face. You wanted to scream, but all sound was caught in your throat as you began panting louder and louder in exertion. You could feel him getting closer, and you don't dare look behind you again to confirm.

A brush against the back of your shirt had you almost wailing, blood running cold in your veins as you realized it was a hand. He was close, so damn close you could practically see flashes of your bloody carcass strewn across the dirty road like a slaughtered pig. You force your legs to pump harder, sprinting with all your might. You yelp when he brushes you for a third time.

You wanted to die. Not literally, of course, but figuratively. You wanted nothing more than to not be here. To instead be laughing with long arms and even longer legs wrapped around you, to have blues and browns meet yours as the smells of sweet-yet-salty buttered popcorn flooded your nostrils.

When you open your eyes, you hadn't even realized you had shut them in the first place. Artificial light floods your vision and you realize that you had finally passed the streetlamp and were in the suburbs. The hellish sound of boots no longer scratched with razor sharp claws at your ears, and you find yourself having trouble remembering the past few minutes.

He was gone, you noticed, as you slow down and eventually halt altogether. You gulp in air and your eyes begin stinging from how long you were now keeping them open, your head whipping left and right as you wildly scan your surroundings. When had he stopped chasing you? Silence screams all around you as minutes that felt like hours continue to tick by. A car passes you by before stopping, and you barely register it until a familiar voice rings out.

"Babe! Heya, got your text and- uh, are you okay?"

Stu's voice rings out, and it had never sounded closer to an angel's hymm in your life. You almost laugh in unhinged glee as you jump towards the door, startling your blond haired paramour a bit, before ripping it open and jumping into the passengers side.

"Stu. Go!"

"What? Hey what're you-"

"I said go!"

Stu's shock changes to confusion, but he nonetheless begins driving forwards towards the suburbs exit. You close your eyes in relief you feel your heart rate slow. You were safe. Stu was here and-

"Aaaaah!"

"Woah, hey!"

You yell as a hand grasps your shoulder. Whipping your head around, Billy's face comes into view, his brown eyes wide and jaw slack at your sudden shriek.

"Y/N? What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

A half-sigh, half laugh leaves your lips. It was just your boyfriend. Both of your boyfriends. They were here, and you were safe and you can stop panicking now and-

Tears begin pricking your vision, and your blurring sight doesn't catch Billy's tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip at this. Tears intermingle with sweat as you recount what had just happened to you. The fright of someone chasing you. The realization that you could've been just another victim of the Woodsboro killer. The weird break in time you felt as your mind failed to process everything properly.

All the while, Billy and Stu comfort you. Telling you that they won't let anything like this happen again, and that they didn't want you walking home alone at night like this if they can help it. The warmth of your shared apartment felt like a mother's hug once you arrive, as did the quilted blankets now wrapped around you, and the soft cushioning of the couch as some action movie Stu had seen recently and wanted to show you guys started playing.

Their arms were your shields as you begin drifting away, the danger encountered that night leaving your mind's eye. They wouldn't let anything happen to you, you told yourself with a smile. Your eyes slide shut, and you miss the too-sharp grins that stretch along their faces as they make eye contact above you.