#they get in and out of the coolers and warmers even when the doors are closed bc the rubber seal is so degraded and falling apart

[alltherelicsofalifelonglived]

what if i just lit the entire kitchen on fire

[nataliasquote]

Midas Touch [pt.2] | n romanoff

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: How is Y/n supposed to process the events of the last 24 hours when life wants to continue as normal? Her head is a total mess but the two people she is closest to are the ones most responsible. In a room full of people, she is the most alone

Warnings: bad coping mechanisms, shitty husband, cheating, mentions of an injury

Pairings: James Barnes x wife!reader, maid!Natasha Romanoff x mistress!reader

wc: 5k

Note: hello :) I am back! This is nowhere near as good as I want it to be but I need to get back into writing so I pushed myself to write this :) I hope you enjoy and thank you for all the love on the first part of ‘Midas Touch’

-⧗-

If Y/n Barnes was a master of one thing, it was pushing her feelings so far down they didn’t dare bob above the surface even just an inch. There was no tell-tale sign of what had happened the previous night…

… except for the dark bruise scattered nicely across her high cheekbone.

James didn’t return home that night so Y/n woke up to an empty bed. It wasn’t the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the vast expanse of the egyptian cotton bed sheets encased her body like a glove, and pulling herself out would be an impossible task.

Natasha knocked on the door at 10am, her uniform ironed to a crisp perfection. Flashes of last night blurred through her mind but she cleared her thoughts with a deep breath and pushed the heavy door open after a suitable and swift knock. She headed straight to the long curtains that concealed the balcony doors and tugged them open to allow a small strip of light to dance across the oak floors.

“Good morning, Mrs Barnes,” she spoke gently, watching her mistress smooth her hands over her mussed up hair. The same soft hair she’d felt beneath her own fingertips in an entirely new way. “We have plenty of time, but I would like to remind you that you have your Vanity Fair photoshoot today.”

Y/n groaned and shuffled up to prop her torso up against the thick pillows, the strap of her nightdress falling down her shoulder slightly. “Did we not reschedule that?” She asked, large eyes following Natasha like a hawk.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” Natasha replied with a grimace. Y/n rolled her eyes, again, and blindly gestured for Natasha to bring her robe over. Whilst the spring days were getting warmer, mornings still carried a cooler breeze that felt rather harsh if you were dressed in nothing but a silk slip. “I can still call ahead and see-”

“There’s no need. It’s just a photoshoot, not the end of the world.” Y/n’s bleary eyes were still half closed as Natasha approached, rather hesitantly, with the feathered robe draped over one arm. She reprimanded herself to stay professional but as their eyes met, she couldn’t help but see the helpless expression that she saw in them only hours before, the same one she fell for without considering the repercussions. Natasha was sure Y/n could hear how loudly her heart was beating behind her blouse and she waited for a remark or look that would truly test her to the limit, yet nothing came.

Y/n accepted the robe with a tight lipped smile and moved into the bathroom without another word. Natasha couldn’t help but linger on the blue bruise in contrast with her pale skin, but she knew not to mention it. It was just another elephant in the room, which was turning into quite the zoo now.

Photoshoot preparation was fairly minimal as hair and makeup would be taken care of on set, so Natasha just focussed on preparing breakfast and briefing Y/n on everything she needed to know.

“- and I think that’s everything,” Natasha said, placing her pen down on the table. “Oh, um, well, there is one more thing, but…”

“Spit it out, Natasha, we really don’t have all day.” Y/n peered over the top of her large framed sunglasses with a raised brow, watching as the redhead cowered slightly under her gaze. “What is it?”

Natasha swallowed and started to fiddle with her nails under the table. Why was this so hard? “It’s just your… cheek, ma’am. Would you rather we covered it up here to avoid any suspicions, or we could create a cover story? Perhaps you were hit with a tennis ball-”

Y/n held up her index finger, effectively cutting Natasha off mid ramble. The stress was evident in her tone and it was slightly irritating to the young woman who had managed to distance herself from everything rather quickly. Sure, the ache on one side of her face was still there and served as a harsh reminder of what her life was, but she had a part to play, and nothing, not even Natasha, would get in the way of that.

“I don’t care,” Y/n stated bluntly, pushing her sunglasses up into her freshly washed hair. “You can do both, cover it up and make up a story.” Her tone was blasé and Natasha frowned, unsure of how to handle her next words. “It’s not a big deal, so please don’t turn it into one. And James cannot know that you know, okay, or he will fire you if he finds out.”

Her words were like a kick to the stomach and Natasha nodded swiftly before busying herself with collecting the breakfast tray. Despite being the one to end their kiss last night and cement to Y/n that it was wrong, there was still a part of her that clung on to their relationship being forever changed for the better and she yearned for that feeling they’d shared only hours previous. But Y/n cooler demeanour squashed all hope and she even wondered if it all had been a dream. If it wasn’t for the bruise, maybe she would have been convinced.

Natasha didn’t utter another word about it, instead immersing herself into preparations. Y/n was typing away on her phone on the drive over, so Natasha stole thirty minutes to continue with her book. But the words on the pages were simply just that, she couldn’t focus on more than a paragraph. She was hyper aware of the heeled foot bobbing out the corner of her eye where Y/n had one leg crossed over the other as she scrolled through her phone, and how if they were only a few inches closer it would be brushing against her calf. But Natasha shook her thoughts away as they pulled up to the studio and fetched the bags as Y/n’s publicist greeted them at the door.

Natasha was directed to the dressing room, the kind of place she was familiar with, and she laid out her things before hovering by the door. Her role during photoshoots was minimal, and quite frankly she didn’t need to be there, but Y/n always requested her presence as a sense of comfort and familiarity. Things got overwhelming quickly on set.

“Oh thank god, I thought you’d got lost,” Y/n breathed as she spotted Natasha by the soft couch, hands clasped over her lap. “I have a favour to ask.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Y/n peeked down the hallway before quickly closing the door, allowing them a moment of privacy before the chaos ensued. “Will you stay with me all day?” Her voice was quiet, like she was afraid to admit it. Natasha’s eyes softened and she nodded. “It’s just- I’ve never felt as safe with someone as I do with you, and after yesterday I-”

“It’s okay, I’ll be right here, and I’ll hover on set so I’m never far away. And I’ve already sent the message around so no one will ask about your cheek.” Y/n smiled gratefully, counting her blessings for how lucky she was to have Natasha in her life. She went above and beyond her duties and had the kindest heart, one that captured Y/n more than she cared to admit.

Their sweet moment was cut short as a knock on the door sounded, promptly followed by the entry of the glam team. Y/n was swooped away into hair and makeup, a simple yet versatile look that could be adapted to fit each outfit. Natasha watched like a hawk, scanning Y/n’s body language for any signs of discomfort. But her mistress was also a professional when it came to performing in public, so no outsider would ever know what was bubbling beneath the surface. She chatted and laughed with her stylists just like any other day, complimenting the soft waves in her hair and the shade of blush used on her cheeks.

The shoot itself harnessed the light and airy feel of summer, utilising bright colours and soft prints that complimented Y/n’s complexion perfectly. She’d worked with the photographer a few times before, with James too, so they worked naturally together, her features enhanced by his skill and her ease in which she posed.

The camera adored her. Which wasn’t surprising, Y/n really was gorgeous. Each outfit fitted her body like a glove and she gazed down the lens with such a sultry look that Natasha shifted in her seat a few times. She watched, mesmerised - this part of her job never got old.

Natasha had come crashing down overnight, the one small taste of her mistress that she’d managed to get had got her addicted and the way the redhead looked at her was far from professional, no matter how hard she tried.

And life wasn’t helping her case either. Not when Y/n came strutting out in her final outfit, a light blue silk dress with a dangerously low back and swooping neckline. She locked eyes with Natasha and winked as the make up artist added a final coat of lipstick before stepping back to allow the set to be empty. Y/n turned at an angle to the camera and looked back over her shoulder, eyes gazing off away from the lens… and straight to Natasha. Her soft eyeliner brought out the colours in her eyes in the most gorgeous way and they seemed to sparkle in the studio lights as she turned and posed, all whilst looking directly at her maid.

Anyone looking at the meek redhead in the corner would just see a maid on duty. No one would be able to see the way her eyes followed where Y/n’s hands went, knowing she’d held them in hers only hours before. Nor would they see how she stared at her slightly parted lips whilst remembering the way they felt on her own. How gentle and delicate they felt, a wild contrast to her captivating and consuming presence that made everyone on set stop and stare. Y/n had finally trusted someone to see her vulnerable and Natasha treasured it like a precious stone, keeping it near and dear to her heart.

The day wrapped after a few hours and Y/n changed straight into a bikini before heading down to the pool, her hair loose and still curled from the shoot. The water was always her preferred way of unwinding and Natasha gave her some space to be alone for a while, something that rarely happened in her hectic life.

The house was peaceful as the afternoon sun warmed the patio where Y/n resided, her legs dangling into the crystal pool water below. Her large sunglasses stopped the glare from blinding her and she moved her feet slowly, following the ripples that she created. There was nothing to be heard but the birds in the trees and the occasional clink of crockery as the chefs prepared a light dinner. Natasha stayed back, her chair placed in the shade to save her delicately pale skin from the harsh sun rays. She didn’t tan like Y/n did, and looking like a lobster was not on her to do list for the week.

But her seat still gave her an amazing view and as Y/n stood up to refill her glass, Natasha took the time to admire her toned body and how it glistened from the tanning oil. Every piece of exposed skin looked smooth and she knew it would feel just as soft under her fingertips.

Her attentive ears picked up the sound of heavy footsteps across the marble floors and Natasha sat up a little straighter as James appeared in the doorway. He was focused on the woman by the pool, her damp hair sticking to her exposed back as it dried in the heat. With four strides he was at the pool edge, saying something that made Y/n climb to her feet.

Natasha was used to their PDA, but this one felt wrong to watch. The second their lips touched, she brought her book closer, trying to distract herself. But the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t keep looking away. She saw how James’ hand instantly found the curve of Y/n’s lower back and pressed her body into him as he held the back of her head to kiss her. Natasha saw Y/n almost melted into his touch and she cursed how natural they looked. Was everything okay with them? Had Y/n really pushed her pain that far down that she could forgive her husband in two seconds? Or was this all just an act that the couple had perfected over time because this had been happening a lot longer than Natasha knew. She dreaded to consider the latter but the sinking feeling in her stomach wouldn’t let it go.

At the poolside, Y/n finally pulled away from James, her lips slightly numb. “Where were you?” she muttered quietly, not fully looking him in the eye as he brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Work, doll, you know how hectic it gets sometimes.” There was something off about him, but Y/n was too exhausted to pry so she let her eyes fall to the exposed chain resting on his chest thanks to the buttons undone on his shirt. “Have you been good today?”

“Had a photoshoot,” Y/n replied, and James tensed, gripping her waist firmer as he waited for her next words. “The one for Vanity Fair’s cover next month.”

James grunted in response and dragged his hand up his wife’s body, raking in her figure in her small black bikini. Natasha watched over the top of her book, perplexed. No one could see how uncomfortable Y/n was as James’ hand gripped the back of her neck and guided her inside, her facade was good, but she prayed it would be obvious as they passed the redhead who could only pretend she didn’t see them. Y/n desperately tried to make eye contact with her maid but Natasha ignored her, sending a shudder down her spine as James’ grip hardened.

“Why are you so quiet today? Cat got your tongue?” James asked once the bedroom door was closed and the couple were finally alone. Y/n lingered by the bed as he discarded his button down shirt in exchange for a lighter and more simple one. “I asked you a question, Y/n.”

“I’m just tired from the shoot,” she replied, eyes flitting over his muscular back. “And the constant dodging of questions.” Y/n saw the way he froze, still with his back turned, and the confidence that had blossomed in her chest for a moment was snuffed out.

“Excuse me?”

Her chest heaved as her breathing sped up but she stood her ground, using the mattress behind her knees for support. “It’s hard to lie through my teeth when people are asking about the bruise on my face and I can’t tell them it was my husband. Photoshop is really going to save you-”

“What did you tell them?” James demanded as he stormed over, towering over her as he gripped her upper arm. “Did you dare?”

“I told them it was a tennis ball.” Relief flooded James’ face and he let her go, creating space between them. Y/n saw the way he looked at her cheek that was still covered with makeup. “Didn’t want to risk getting another one if you found out I’d told the truth.” The words were out before she could stop them and Y/n braced herself for the impact, expecting the inevitable.

But it didn’t come.

A hand touched her cheek, making her flinch, before it slid down to her waist and James knelt before her, his head resting on her bare stomach. His sudden change was unnerving and Y/n didn’t know what to do. He was leaning against her like a child, apologising and mumbling like a madman, and part of her wanted to push him away, but it would be a step too far. She just stood and listened to his apologies, once again blaming his work for making him aggressive and swearing that he’d never lay a hand on her again.

Part of her believed him, the naive part, but as she screwed her eyes shut, all she saw was Natasha. How gentle her touch was, something James could never do. He was always rough, no matter what, his hands calloused from years of fighting. The way Natasha’s palm felt against her burning cheeks would never be matched by anyone else and no matter how hard Y/n tried to imagine that the hands that were running across her back now belonged to her maid, she knew what Natasha’s touch was like and she couldn’t pretend anymore.

The moment the kisses started across her lower stomach, Y/n pushed James’ head away and sat down on the soft duvet, taking his hand in hers.

“It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Lies.

But for the sake of her life and safety, it was all she could say.

James was no knight in shining armour, despite his skillset. No, her true saviour knocked on the door in that moment, knocking the air out of her lungs as she breathed a sigh of relief. Natasha knew not to enter unless ordered, so Y/n scurried to the door and visibly softened at the sight of the redhead who’s cheeks were slightly flushed.

Right, Y/n was still in her bikini.

“I’m just here to say that dinner is ready and on the patio when you both are available,” she announced, smiling politely at James who had joined his wife at the door, his hand sliding around her waist possessively. “Chef prepared those oysters you requested, Mr Barnes.”

“Thank you, Natasha, Y/n and I will be right there.” The redhead didn’t linger, instead disappearing back down the stairs in a hurry.

“I’m just going to get changed, I’ll meet you down there,” Y/n said, wriggling out of his hold as soon as she could. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Don’t be too long, doll. I’ve missed you.”

He certainly had an odd way of showing that, considering he had disappeared for over twelve hours with not a word. But, once again, Y/n pushed that out of her mind and slipped on a simple white cover-up that was modest enough for dinner and padded downstairs to the patio where James had already tucked into his food. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a kiss, more of a display to the staff around them than anything else.

Seafood was never Y/n’s preference, so once she was sat across the table, her fork picked at parts of the salad, occasionally stomaching an oyster that James pushed her way. He glanced at her plate with a frown

“Are you on a new diet?”

Y/n almost dropped her fork and quickly fumbled to catch it before it clattered to the floor. “No,” she replied, mortified. “Should I be?”

James just shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he took a swig of his drink. His tanned chest was exposed and he revelled in the feeling of the sun on his skin, something he missed working in an office all day.

“That’s not up to me. I just want you to look good.” His vague response left a sour taste in Y/n mouth and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, subtly adjusting the way the cover-up sat around her stomach.

“Then why did you ask?” Her mind cast back to the earlier photoshoot and the tight fitting clothes she’d squeezed into per the stylist’s request. Did they all think she needed to be on a diet too?

“You’re so sensitive,” James replied, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “It was just a question, just eat your food, doll. Or don’t, I don’t care.” Y/n looked down at her dish and pushed a cherry tomato around before eventually dropping her fork to the side with a clink. Despite how fresh her salad tasted, James’ words sank to her stomach like a stone and she felt disgusted at the thought. “What are you doing on Friday night?”

“I don’t think I’ve got anything planned, but I’ll need to check with Natasha-”

“You’re coming to the charity ball with me.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand, and Y/n just nodded. “Rogers said it’s non-negotiable and you know how much I love having you on my arm. Rumlow will be there too, which is a bonus.” Y/n’s stomach lurched at the thought of seeing that man again. He was far too handsy for her liking and had zero respect for women, especially her. “It’ll give me another chance to show you off and put that asshole in his place.”

“James, you know I don’t feel comfortable around him-”

“I know, doll. But you’ve got me to protect you,” he countered, subtly flexing his arm that was placed behind his head.

But his words didn’t fill her with much hope. She hated feeling so helpless, but being surrounded by the men that James was associated with through work was like being surrounded by bears in a forest. How could she rely on her husband to keep her safe when he was now part of the reason why her hands shook? His slap had knocked her confidence away just like it did her breath, and the determination and independence she’d felt a few days ago was now nowhere to be seen. And she hated it.

“May I be excused?” Y/n asked, already feeling restless in her seat. James nodded and muttered something about a call, but she was already out of earshot by the time he’d finished.

Her legs didn't carry her up to her room like she expected. Instead, she found herself down the least familiar hallway, stopping outside a door she’d only knocked on once before.

A faint rustling was heard before the door flew open and Natasha’s face morphed from surprise to confusion at the sight of her mistress in the staff quarters.

“Can I come in? Please?” Neither Y/n or James ever ventured into the staff quarters, nevermind the rooms, but Natasha stepped aside and allowed her to enter, excusing how bare her room was.

“Is everything okay? You could have called for me.”

Y/n shook her head as she admired the neatness of Natasha’s living quarters. Her surfaces were dust free and bed made to perfection. “I don't know, I just wanted to get away from everything. And you’re the only person I could think of.”

Natasha frowned, her brows creasing as she watched her mistress peering out of the window at the gardens below. Y/n sensed her close presence and turned to face her, scanning her face and more importantly her eyes. A gentle hand raised to smooth the lines between the redhead’s brows upon instinct before Natasha stepped away, effectively placing a blockage between them.

“We should go somewhere else, Y/n, you shouldn’t be here.” It all felt wrong yet right and Natasha was so conscious of someone walking in on them. “Come, we can sit on the balcony.”

Y/n shook her head desperately. “No, James is out there on a call and I can’t face him right now. I don’t want to feel like I’m being watched anymore but there’s nowhere else I can go except to you and I shouldn’t, but you don’t understand, I can’t-”

“Y/n, breathe, it’s okay, I won’t make you go anywhere. What happened?”

“It’s pathetic,” she replied, adjusting the neckline of her coverup. “I’m just being ridiculous and sensitive, just like he said.”

“James?” Natasha probed, wishing she had been out on the patio to hear the conversation that had clearly shaken her mistress. “What did he say?”

“He just said something about a diet and I overreacted and asked if I should be on one and he got mad and I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.”

“He said you should be on a diet?” Natasha repeated in disbelief. That was another score for the James Barnes hate chart, and if he didn’t pay her wages she’d have acted on her impulses a long time ago. They never quite saw eye to eye.

Y/n winced, feeling guilty for making the situation seem worse. A messy mind led to messy conversations and she just wanted to stop. “No, he-”

“So he said he doesn’t want you on one?”

“Well, not exactly, but that's all I can think about now. He wants me to look good, I’m his wife for god’s sake, I have to.” Her voice cracked and Y/n turned away from Natasha, moving back towards the door as doubt began to set in. “But what if I’m not enough, or perfect enough for him anymore? ”

Natasha had to fight to stop herself from speaking the words on her mind and she bit her lip. “No, Y/n, you are beautiful just the way you are. You don’t need a diet or anything like that,” she spoke softly. The other woman didn’t look convinced, so Natasha carefully stood up and opened her closet door to reveal a small mirror about ¾ of a full length. “Here, let me show you something.”

“Natasha, I can’t-”

“Y/n, please…” she trailed off, holding out her hand patiently. She wasn’t about to force her to do anything, Natasha could see the cogs whirring in her busy mind and knew what she was fighting. Half of her wanted to go and find James and kick him in the balls, just like she wanted to last night, but she was here for Y/n. Not him.

“I shouldn’t even be here, this was stupid-”

“No,” Natasha interrupted, stopping Y/n in her tracks. “What’s stupid is James making you feel as worthless as you do. Why do you listen to him?” Y/n avoided her gaze, choosing instead to twist her wedding ring around her finger, it suddenly feeling heavier than usual. “Do you not see how beautiful you are? How you give your heart out to anyone who needs it without caring what state it is in when you get it back? Do you not see that you are so much more than just his wife?” Natasha’s words were true, but they fell upon deaf ears and Y/n shook her head, reaching for the doorknob whilst trying to hide her trembling hands.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled, not giving Natasha a chance to stop her before slipping back out into the hallway where she came from.

Natasha watched the door close dejectedly, her heart sinking. “Do you not see how much I love you?”

Y/n sped down the hallway with glassy eyes, her head more clouded than ever. She had so many questions, but who was she to ask when the two closest to her were the ones completely messing with her head, tugging it in opposite directions until the rope threatened to snap. She barely registered travelling back upstairs until she reached the bedroom door and threw it open without a care. James’ head turned at the noise and he spoke down the phone before hanging up and followed Y/n into her dressing room.

Y/n was completely lost with her thoughts when she felt his hands on her and barely reacted to his touch. His lips trailed up her neck to her ear and she tilted her head back purely on instinct. She felt too numb for this, but let him continue because she was his wife and that was her job. Nothing sparked her brain when he pulled her coverup off or when he picked her up and placed her on the dresser in the middle of the room. It was all muscle memory and he was too focused to notice her lack of enthusiasm.

How could so much change in twenty four hours? She lived an amazing life, incredibly privileged, so why wasn’t she happy? Couples fight all the time, her husband was an aggressive man, but a single slap didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. She’d get over it and maybe James would go back to being the loving husband he was before.

But even now, as his calloused hands pulled off her bikini top and pressed his lips to her soft skin, she doubted that her life would ever go back to the way it was. Not now that she had Natasha.

Yet that was nothing more than a fruitless desire. Because, despite her comebacks and displays of confidence towards her husband, he was more powerful than she would ever be and had the ability to ruin her life if she went against his wishes.

Was it worth it? Y/n really wasn’t sure. She would never be certain.

[myfictionaldreams]

Winter Soup // Mafia!Stucky x F!Reader

Summary: There was no better feeling than a bowl of hot soup when you're feeling unwell and, what's even better is when it's delivered to your door every day by your new guard. It tasted amazing and you could always trust everyone in the Mafia... right?

Requested by: @senjoritanana​​ thank you so much, I hope you enjoy all the angst!

A/N: PSA I don't know the specifics of how poisons work and didn't want to risk it on my google history lmao so please ignore any inaccuracies. Please read the tags if you're affected by near death experiences, please proceed with caution and if I've missed any tags/warnings, please let me know!

Warnings/Tags: 18+ readers only, hints of smut, angst (LOTS BUCKLE UP), fluff, polyamory relationship, poisoning, blood and injury, anxiety, crying, begging, near death expierences, reader is injured, pain, emotional hurt/comfort, hospitalization, protective Steve Bucky and Sam, everyone needs a hug tbh

Words: 7.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The warmer months were slowly starting to shift into winter and for some reason this year, the weather change was beginning to affect your health. You’d heard of the phrase ‘seasonal depression’ but you were convinced that it was due to the cooler weather that was making you feel this rubbish.

It had been happening for a week now, and some days you’d feel fine, normal in fact but then others your chest felt so tight as if an elephant was sitting on top of you, nausea, vertigo and heart palpations that would have you clutching your chest with fear you might explode. With each passing day, you would be praying for the summer months to return, especially as the snow and ice increased with intensity outside of your home.

You were fine for the most part, good days and bad; yes you might be getting worse with each passing day but you were adamant that the seasonal illness would pass. However, the frosty weather was also a minor blessing because it was your excuse to stay home and be a pretty housewife for Steve and Bucky. Being able to stay home made it easier to keep the illness to yourself as well, it was a busy time within the Rogers mafia and you didn’t need them wasting their time fretting over your wellness when they had a lot of other things to do. They had many international deals that were so close to being signed for and contracted that every waking hour was spent at the office, on phone calls, and emails, trying to talk to locals across the world to attend meetings on their behalf so the boys were thoroughly busy.

There were a few occasions you’d attended with them to the office if you were feeling particularly needy or lonely but it unnerved you to drive on the snow and ice so when you suggested that you might stay at home, Steve and Bucky offered no complaints.

At home at least you were able to mop about, trying to perk yourself up with movies, pyjamas and your favourite bowl of warm soup. Over the last few months, you’d been trying to improve your cooking skills, especially to impress Steve who usually cooked for three of you. This became more interesting as the colder months drew in over Brooklyn as this meant you could cook more homely, hearty foods such as soups and stews, especially as you had recipe suggestions from the newly hired grounds guard Rafael.

He’d been recommended by a friend of a friend for Steve to hire which was perfect timing because the last grounds guard had retired. There were a few occasions when he was the guard to bring the post to the front door from the front gate and you soon found he was enthusiastic and easy to talk to, even though he was a little bit older, which was how you found out he had previously been a chef and offered to give you recipe ideas. As winter drew in, Rafael began turning up when he knew you were by yourself to deliver some of his momma’s family recipe soups, hoping that the meal would perk you up which it did, they tasted so delicious that you were secretly hoping he would keep bringing them to you, especially as you continued to feel unwell.

“What is it today?”, you asked voice full of hope and trying to sound as upbeat as possible. Even though you were desperately holding onto the door handle as your head was spinning and scared you’d fall over.

“Potato and leek soup and they’re all grown in my back yard so hopefully you’ll love it even more than usual”, Rafael smiled as he handed over the container, his smile broad and causing the aged creases at the corner of his eyes to deepen.

Gleefully you accepted the soup, opening the lid slightly to smell the delicious meal, your stomach grumbling with hunger. Your appetite had reduced significantly over the last few days due to always feeling nauseous however it seemed the only thing that you could stomach was his delicious meals and therefore his arrival was always welcomed.

“Thank you so much! Please will you let me pay you this time? You’re being way too kind to me, always giving me free meals, you’re going above and beyond a usual guard”, you pleaded whilst also having to return holding onto the door handle as it felt like the ground was moving with your dizziness.

Rafael held up his hands and shook his head, taking a step back, “Absolutely not! Just wanted to give you something to make you feel better and make the fairies go away”.

The guard halted, a look of embarrassment passing out his features as he realised what he just said, especially as you asked, “Fairies?”

He awkwardly looked down at his shoes, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to explain, “Yeah it’s just something my momma use to say. If we were feeling unwell, it’s because the fairies had crept into our stomachs and were being naughty and making us ill and now I’ve said it out loud to another person I’ve realised how insane that sounds so I’m going to stop talking”.

You squeezed your lips together to try and contain your laughter but that lasted a moment before you were both laughing which only turned into you losing your balance against the door and swaying to keep yourself upright. The laughter died in Rafael’s eyes as he reached out to you, “Woah, you ok, Ma’am?”

Quickly brushing him off, you took a step back into your home, trying to ask nonchalantly about the situation, “Yeah sorry, probably just the fairies pushing me over”. Your joke didn’t seem to comfort him in any way as he continued to look uneased by your appearance.

Thankfully Rafael didn’t push the situation any further, seeing that you wanted to escape back into the comfort of your home, he took his step back with a simple smile. “Get back inside before you catch another cold from this snow. Eat the soup whilst it’s still warm and I’ll be back tomorrow to hear the verdict on the taste.”

“Thank you Rafael! Enjoy the rest of your day!”. You waved him off and rushed to slam the door, sliding down to the floor against the wood, losing all energy that you’d built that morning just for that one conversation. Ok yes, you were feeling sorry for yourself as you tried to catch your breath, heart pounding violently in your chest that it also echoed in your ears and your vision was still seeing double of everything.

However your stomach continued to gurgle with hunger so without wasting any more energy, you opened the lid and ate the entire contents then and there. Releasing a satisfied sigh at the delicious meal, you took another couple of minutes to gather your senses before dragging yourself over to the living room, collapsing onto your back on the couch and letting sleep take you into a dreamless realm.

A violent shake of your shoulders by a hard grip on your shoulder was what startled you awake as Sam’s voice then surrounded you as he shouted, “Hey! Wake up!”.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever been close to hating you Sam Wilson”, you croaked before coughs shattered your chest, rocking your body as you tried to sit up and suck in any air between the painful coughs. Finally, you calmed down enough to collapse back against the decorative cushions of the couch and open your eyes to look at the three Sam’s that hovered over you. After a couple more blinks, they merged into one, very distressed-looking bodyguard, eyebrows knitted together and jaw muscle clenched harshly.

Sam reached towards your face, pressing against your cheek in concern, “Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?”

“What? I’m not ill, I’m just tired, can’t a girl nap around here?” you questioned with a raised eyebrow, trying to look as relaxed as possible. 

The man didn’t look convinced as he sat on the edge of the couch next to you. Releasing a heavy sigh which only twinged something in your chest that made you want to cough but you refrained from doing so as you emphasised, “Sam seriously, I’m fine”.

Sam gave you another serious glance, eyes hardening as he explained, “You didn’t sound fine, you were wheezing so hard in your sleep I thought you were going to stop breathing”.

There was no denying the panic that filled your heart and would explain the tightened feeling in your chest but you tried to not let the fear show on your face as you rolled your eyes, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

“I appreciate your concern Sam, but I feel ok, I’m just tired, I was probably just sleeping in a weird position and look, no wheeze now!” Taking a deep breath to show there was no more noise coming from your chest, however, it didn’t seem to comfort him in any way.

“Yeah well you’re still looking peaky and why are you so tired all the time recently, you’re never usually like this”.

“It’s probably just the cold weather or something. If I start to feel unwell, you know I’d tell you. I’m a big baby when I’m ill, you’ll be the first to know”. Sam looked to be contemplating believing you and all you were silently begging for was that he didn’t call Steve and Bucky, they just didn’t need this stress right now. Even though it was in his contract to call them at any sign of injury or illness but as Sam looked at you, other than looking tired, you seemed to be fine and still joking with him. Finally, he gave you a simple nod and you couldn't hold back the thankful sigh. “Do you mind if I go back to sleep for a little while longer or do you need me for anything?”

“You’ve been sleeping a lot recently”, he stated his earlier point again.

“What, so I’m not allowed to nap now?” you teased him with a subtle smile, hoping to crack his worried exterior. It only half worked as he shook his head to himself, standing up and pulling the fluffy blanket that had been left behind you on the couch and throwing it over your body. Before you could even thank him though, sleep had stolen you back into its resting state. 

Sleeping for a few more hours, Sam was nowhere to be seen but he usually liked to check the perimeter ever so often and speak to the other guards so you weren’t worried about his whereabouts. As you shuffled to the kitchen, you couldn’t tell if you felt any worse or better after all the sleeping, haven’t wasted another day feeling sorry for yourself, you tried to snap out of it by glancing through the refrigerator and cupboards and deciding to ssurpriseSteve and Bucky with a romantic meal.

The house was soon filled with delicious scents of sweet and savoury as you’d baked and were in the process of cooking their dinner. You were in your own little world and had only stumbled a handful of times with dizziness and the headache that was building was currently mild in comparison to others you had, it was fine you determined to yourself

Still lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t even heard the front door open as you were suddenly enveloped by a muscular chest and arms, a smile aching your cheeks as you nuzzled back into Steve’s body. His lips danced over your cheek and down your neck as he held you close, the roughness of his beard comforting. “I didn’t hear you come in”, you commented, turning your head slightly to chase after his lips, sighing deeply in your chest as he held you tighter for a second, hands dipping beneath your shirt at your waist so that he could feel the warmth of your skin.

“I did shout”, he revealed whilst moving back to neck, not to kiss but just to smell you in, his body almost melting into the floor as he felt at home with the familiar scents. “I’ve missed you”, he whispered against your skin.

Goosebumps instantly flooded over your body as you shivered, turning in his arms to hug him properly, your fingers scratching through his hair that was beginning to curl at the ends where he’d allowed it to grow out over the winter months. “I’ve missed you too”, you whispered against his lips, lazily kissing and breathing each other in.

“Come with us tomorrow, I want you to be near me”, he admits with words that were making you cling to him harder.

You wanted to say yes and the word was on the tip of your tongue but then your thoughts drifted to the soup coming. “I’ve got a delivery coming that I can’t miss, I’m sorry”.

“The guards can get the delivery”, he counters.

“It’s fresh soup I want it whilst it’s hot”, an embarrassed smile finds its way to your lips as he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he just enjoyed the moment of the two of you being together.

“Soup? But we could order that to the office if you wanted it, you know that’s no issue”. 

You pout dramatically, hanging off his neck as you whisper with a childish tone, “But it won’t be the soup that I’ve ordered and want”.

Steve rolls his eyes but you know he's being playful, he could never find a reason to be upset with you. Rolling back his shoulders, he stands back to his full height, opening his eyes to cup your cheek with his massive hand but this was when he took you in and a frown dawned on his face just like it had on Sam’s. “Are you feeling ok?” The hand on your cheek moved towards your forehead, expecting to feel a temperature but it felt normal.

“I feel great”, you say with as much cheer in your tone as possible, still holding onto his neck but mostly because another wave of dizziness had rushed through you and you needed some support to stay standing.

Steve didn’t seem convinced, “You just … look a little off”.

You playfully rolled your eyes, similar to how he had just done, “Wow thanks Steve”.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that”.

“I know, I’m joking, I’m fine - really, it's nothing to worry about”. He eyes you and doesn’t fall for your grin so you tried your next trick up your sleeve. Leaning on your tip toes whilst pulling his face closer, you whispered against his lips, “I love you, Stevie”.

The tension momentarily eased from his shoulders as his grip around you tightened, “I love you too”.

“Sorry to interrupt your love fest but I want my own loving”, Bucky broadly announced from the entrance of the kitchen where he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes however as you pulled back from Steve and he could finally see your face, the happiness seeped from his face. “Woah, what happened? Are you ok?”

You gave a frustrated huff, finally releasing Steve’s neck as you pointed in the direction of the decorated table. “Right, both of you go and sit down before I decide you don’t deserve any food for being mean”.

Steve shuffled away first as you continued to cook the food, Bucky looking ashamed as he came over and kissed your cheek but before he could pull away, you quickly captured his lips in a kiss to show you’d been playing before and weren’t upset.

“Why are there only two plates on the table?”  Steve questioned as he took a seat.

Without looking over your shoulder at him, you casually answered, “I’ve already had mine, I wasn’t sure when you were both going to be home and I didn’t want to wait”. They both seemed to accept your lie and you happily sat with them as they ate, asking about how the deals were going. They both seemed to be agreed that they were sure to have contracts signed tomorrow and had even been able to pay off some of the international police so that shipping of the goods could occur. In truth, after the soup, you were not feeling at all remotely hungry and even the smell of the cooked food had turned your stomach over.

A couple of hours later, the three of you were preparing for bed. Steve is in the middle and you are to his right and Bucky is to his left. You and the mafia boss had been kissing deeply for a couple of minutes, his hands beneath your shirt, brushing against your breasts, rough fingertips peaking your nipples as you ground down on his thigh. You were soaked and he could feel the evidence of it as you weren’t wearing any underwear but the longer the touches and kisses went on for, the more you were feeling unwell.

As his teeth tugged on your bottom lip and he began to trail open-mouthed kisses over your jaw and down your throat, you noticed Bucky was doing the same thing but to Steve’s neck from behind. However, there were two Bucky’s instead of one as your vision swayed and it felt as if you were on a water bed with how unsteady you felt. The headache was close to a full-blown migraine as well now which only continued to make you feel nauseous so even though there was nothing more you wanted than to continue where this intimacy was leading but, for once, you had to stop it.

“Wait, just- just one moment”, you pushed against Steve's shoulders at the same time. The blonde's hold on you loosened as he moved his face back to look into your eyes but you’d closed them, trying to hide your face from him and Bucky who had also sat up further to check on you. “I just- sorry I’m tired and I… I’m not sure- sorry.. I don’t think-”.

Steve’s fingers tipped your chin up to look at him as he smiled softly down at you, “If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to. If you’re tired then I’ll just hold you close, ok? Please don’t apologise for not wanting any of this”.

You relaxed in his arms, feeling grateful for him but also bad that you could feel how aroused he was against your stomach. “Thank you. I’m just feeling so tired today. Please don’t let me stop you both, continue without me, I just want to go to sleep”.

“You don’t have to give us reasons why you don’t want to do it, baby, we’ll do whatever you want to do. Me and Buck don’t have to fuck if you want to be held, I don’t want you thinking we’re neglecting you”.

Affection and love warmed your heart as you kissed Steve’s lips and then reached over his shoulder to kiss Bucky. “I love you both but seriously please continue, I like watching you both anyway so that’ll satisfy me enough if I’m not asleep by that point anyway”.

They both gave their love back to you with praises and pecks to your face before rolling away from you and beginning their exploration of each other's bodies. You watched with a smile on your face for a couple of moments and your core ached with need but as a burst of pain pounded through your temple, your eyes shut automatically to help ease the pain and from there, they never opened again as sleep took you soon after.

The next morning, your migraine had gone but your entire body felt weak and drained of any energy. Steve and Bucky took one look at you and determined that they’d be working from home, wishing to remain near you but they still needed the comfort of their home office upstairs whereas you remained downstairs, pretending to watch TV.

Somehow, you had continued to hide your seasonal illness, they just thought you still looked peaky. Today was the worst you’d felt so far, even having to use the wall as support whilst walking around the home, silently coughing into cushions so that the boys wouldn’t hear upstairs and this only increased the sharp pain shooting through your chest.

At lunchtime, Sam came over to visit and found you at the table in the kitchen, head lying against the table top as you dipped in and out of sleep. You were too tired to even pretend to joke and thankfully for once he didn’t pester you with being unwell, especially knowing Steve and Bucky were home, he assumed they had seen how bad you were so he just sat next to you at the table, easing his hand under your head so you had some comfort against the hard surface.

Soon after, Rafael knocked on the front door with your soup delivery. Usually h,e would stay at the door, never coming into your home but Sam insisted that he come out of the cold and deliver the soup to you in person.

“Yay!” you croaked, reaching out for the warm container, seeing the soup within and seeing that it was a deep red colour today, possibly tomato.

“I didn’t know you cooked, Rafael”, Sam noted, taking his seat next to yours once more as the new guard stayed standing at the head of the table. Other than Natasha, Sam was the lead of the security and guards and technically Rafael’s boss.

“Oh yeah, he used to be a chef”, you explained to Sam, whilst opening the lid of the container, smelling the delicious food and confirming your theory that it was tomato soup.

“Chef? I didn’t know you worked as a chef”, Sam remarked with a frown, eyeing Rafael with confusion as he’d been the one to complete the job interview and didn’t remember seeing chef on his CV.

Rafael casually shrugged his shoulders, looking somewhat tense at the questioning but still forced a smile to his face to please his boss. “I didn’t think it was relevant to the job, to be honest”.

“We’ll have to get you on the bbq when the weather perks up, maybe that’ll stop the arguments between Steve and Bucky”, Sam mused over the thought.

You tried to chuckle but the exhaustion had you slumping against the table as you mumbled, “I feel like shit”.

Sam tensed next to you, “Maybe we should call a doctor. You know, I’m surprised Steve and Bucky aren’t down here right now looking after you, do they even know how bad you’re feeling today?”

“Wait, they’re both here?” Rafael asked Sam but he ignored him, his focus solely on you.

Once again you’re too tired to think of an answer and shrug your shoulders, turning your head to look up at Rafael, “I think the fairies like me too much”.

“Fairies?”, Sam questions thinking that you’d become delirious.

You smile genuinely to Sam, reaching to tap his shoulder, “Inside joke Sam, keep up”.

There was no further discussion of fairies as more hacking coughs ripped through you. It took a couple of moments and Sam rushed to get you a glass of water before you slumped back against the table in exhaustion.

“Why don’t you have the soup and then see how you’re feeling later? Maybe the rest is all you need”, Rafael suggested, filling the silence with his voice.

You couldn’t see it but Sam gave his employee a scathing look, “Rest is all she’s been doing. I’m calling the doc and then I’m going upstairs to tell Steve and Bucky”.

“Aren’t they busy?” Rafael continued to question Sam. “I’ve heard they’ve got that deal coming up from Italy and France, they might appreciate it if you wait a little bit before calling Doctors”.

Sam’s voice was quiet and stern but you were too tired to notice. “That’s not common knowledge, how do you know that?”.

Massaging your temples with the pounding thuds that hadn’t stopped since your coughing fit, you decided that Rafael was right, usually sleep made you feel better. Reaching for the soup one more, you opened the container as you addressed your bodyguard, “he’s right Sam. I just need today for all the work stuff to be over and then I’ll call the doctor. The boys don’t need any distractions, especially today, one more day isn’t going to kill me”.

Sam didn’t look happy as you began to idly sip on the thick, delicious soup. As you thanked Rafael for the meal, Sam finally looked back to him, his frown deep and unmoving as he asked, “Don’t you have work to do?”

Rafael’s spine straightened, “Oh yeah, right. Sorry, sir” and with that, he left to return to work.

“You don’t have to be so bossy you know, he’s just trying to help”, you tried to reason with Sam.

However, your friend ignored you and moved to hold your hand to pull your attention away from the meal and towards him. “I’m giving you until the evening, wait no- if you get any worse before the evening, I am calling the Doc, no arguments, understand?”

“Yes sir”, you say with a little salute.

Finishing your soup, your boyfriends finally came downstairs and you attempted to straighten your posture and plaster a fake smile on your face. Bucky paused in the entryway, sniffing the air and asking, “What’s that smell, I know it's from somewhere but can’t put my finger on it”.

“Is it my soup?” you say, trying to stand up and act like the floor was spinning beneath you.

“No, it’s not that”, he pondered, still looking around and trying to smell whatever he recognised but couldn’t pick it up again. Steve and Bucky both walked past you, kissing the back of your head as you casually explained that you were going to lie down for a little bit. “Wait, let me come with you-”, Bucky started but you held out your hand to stop him.

“You’ve got a busy time at work and I’ve got Sammy boy here anyway so you two continue with your work and we’ll have a nice evening in, Ok?”

“Yes Ma’am”, he mutters before continuing to make his lunch. It wasn’t often that he listened to your instructions but both men were so busy and overwhelmed with work and the consequences that could come from it all that they were all over the place.

The next hour passed by slowly and you didn’t manage to sleep even for a moment because your symptoms were making you feel so awful. You were wheezing so bad that each breath felt like you were suffocating, your eyes began to roll with how much the room was spinning and a violent tremble rocked through your entire body, you didn’t feel right, something was wrong and it was beginning to scare you.

“Sam?” your voice was nothing more than a rasping whisper but he still was able to hear you from where he had been on the phone with the doctor from across the room, having noticed your deterioration in health. He was kneeling by your side in a couple of broad steps, the phone balancing between his cheek and shoulder as he rested a hand on your temple, feeling your spiked temperature. “I don’t feel good”, you admitted, voice full of terror before more coughs ruptured through your chest, leaving you struggling to breathe.

“Steve! Bucky get down here right now!”

“No… no, I just need to sleep”, the fear had disappeared from your voice as you wished for the exhaustion to take you completely, hoping that in sleep you wouldn't feel the pain destroying your insides.

“Hey! No!  Don’t go t sleep, need you to stay awake for me, Doctor Banner is on his way but you can’t go to sleep”, Sam urgently tapped your face, rousing you from the sleep as Bucky had all but jumped down the entire flight of stairs at the shouting.

“What’s going on- What the fuck? Doll?” he replaced where Sam was so that he could continue to explain to the doctor what was happening.

“I’m just not feeling ok, it’s fine Bucky go back to work”, you were somewhat delirious, still not really opening your eyes but leaning into the coldness from Bucky’s hand as he cupped your face. Bucky looked to Sam for answers, his eyes bright and alert with fury and worry.

When Sam shrugged his shoulders, not having any answer as to why you were suddenly so unwell, Bucky quickly turned back to you and assessed your deteriorating health and noticed just how laboured your breathing had become. As he spoke, it was with surprising gentleness but still held authority, “I need you to take a deep breath for me, honey, I want you to try and fill your lungs with air”.

“I’m trying, it’s just seasonal illness, it’ll be ok”.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asks, not letting go of your face but just moving in closer.

“It’s just seasonal”, your words began to slur as you became incoherent.

Steve finally descended the stairs with just as much purpose as Bucky as he demanded to know what was going on but Bucky couldn’t answer him as he continued to talk to you and keep you awake. “It’s not seasonal, you’re not breathing properly, it’s not-”. Bucky was leaning so close that he was able to smell your breath and he froze, it looked like he now wasn’t even breathing.

“What is it Bucky?” Steve demanded, kneeling next to him and reaching over to take your hand but also feel your pulse, which only made his own increase with worry.

Bucky leans closer and smells your mouth again, so close that you tried to move away as his nose nudged your lips. “What did you eat?” Bucky asked in a tone that forced your eyes to open with concern.

“Huh? Um just my soup”, you say whilst blinking quickly as he still wouldn’t come into focus.

“Soup? Where is it? Where’s the container?” before you could answer, he was on his feet and running into the kitchen as Steve continued to demand answers from his boyfriend, his hand now moving from your wrist to directly over your heart, continuing to count the beats.

Bucky cursed so violently that it actually made you shrink into the cushions but the movement only made you cough more and chest tighten as you struggled to breathe. He returned to the room, his face a deathly white and green shade as he uttered just one word: “Hemlock”.

There was just one brief second where not a body in the room breathed or even moved, one single second to process the poison that Bucky had spoken, the planet that he only knew about because of his time as the Winter Soldier and using it on his target. The poison that he could now smell on your breath, that originated from your container of soup.

It was Sam to speak first, Sam to snap the two men out of their frozen states as he gave the orders from Doctor Banner who had heard the word over the phone. “We need to get her to a hospital right now”.

Steve picked you up, and his entire body began to tremble with adrenaline and fear as no one even stopped to properly dress for the snow outside, only putting their shoes on before rushing to the car. Sam thankfully was able to use the adrenaline to remain headstrong as he climbed into the driver’s side of the car so that Steve and Bucky could both hold you in the back seats and try and keep you awake.

You were lying with your head in Steve’s lap with your body lying across Bucky’s as they clamped their arms around you as makeshift seatbelts. You had heard the word that Bucky had said and even though you knew what it was, you didn’t want to believe it, even as you continued to feel worse. “It’s not poison, it’s just soup”.

However, those words triggered something within your throat and once more you were coughing so hard that you thought you were going to vomit and cringed as metallic warmth filled your mouth and leaked out of the corner of your lips.

You slumped onto Steve and Bucky, head lulling back but Steve was quick to grab your face, tapping it and forcing you to stay awake, “Baby don’t go to sleep! Please stay awake for me! Stay with us, we’ll be at the hospital soon, I promise”.

You were scared, even though you were half-conscious, you were terrified now realising the severity of the situation, knowing that you were coughing up blood which was now soaking the front of Steve’s shirt and hearing how panicked your boyfriends were only made it worse. Through all the scary, dangerous times in your life, they always remained calm and in control but now they were both frantic and frightened. 

As all three men continued to plead with you to stay awake, you forced yourself to open your eyes, only allowing yourself the luxury of blinking occasionally as you kept looking into Steve’s ocean-blue eyes. With his body and face so close to yours, you used him to ground you in the situation, trying to copy his breathing which had slowed since you’d opened your eyes; ignoring the pain from the breaths and resisting the urges to cough even though blood continued to fill your mouth.

“Am I going to die?” you whisper, not being able to ignore the questions now in the back of your mind anymore.

Steve’s breath hitched for a second before he tried to confidently whisper, “No, you’re not going to die”.

You didn’t believe him, especially as the trip to the hospital was delayed by the snow, every second feeling like it could be your worse, you didn’t want it to end like this.

“I love you.”

“You’re going to be ok, just keep looking at Steve, keep breathing”, Bucky pleaded, squeezing your freezing cold hand.

“Please, just say it back”, your voice was hardly audible anymore as your mouth was so full of blood.

“Stop talking and save your energy for when you’re feeling better”, Bucky tried to keep his composure but you knew he was close to snapping.

Your breaths were wet and laboured, wheezing so violently it rattled and echoed around the car but you still managed to plead, “Say it back-”.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, please don’t leave me, baby”. Steve snapped first, his eyes were wide, fearful and yet beautiful with how stark the blue was as his eyes filled with tears, leaking down his cheek and into his beard.

You were thankful, for both of them, for everything and you wish you could have told them, wishing that you could have heard Bucky’s own declaration of love and adoration for you but the pounding of your heartbeat became so loud in your head that you couldn’t hear anything anymore.

But you continued to hold on, never once looking away from those pretty eyes of Steve’s as Sam finally screeched to a halt outside of the hospital. Once more, Steve carried you and there was a flurry of people in different coloured scrubs suddenly surrounding you as you were placed onto a cold bed.

One moment you were staring into Steve’s eyes and the next you were looking up at a stranger and the comfort you’d once felt, the thing that was grounding you to life was now gone and you couldn’t find him again, no matter how much you moved on the bed, even as the strangers poked and prodded at your body until you couldn’t deal with it anymore and finally closed your eyes.

Do you ever have those naps where you wake up and forget where you are, or what time or day it is? That was currently how you felt except the added sensation of floating encompassed your body as well. The only sort of normality felt throughout your body was a cool feminine hand stroking across your temple in a soothing, repetitive manner.

Your toes wiggled firstly and then your eyes behind your eyelids and even though you knew who was stroking your forehead, you still croakily asked, “Steve? Bucky?”

“It’s just me Sugar” Natasha sounded calm and peaceful as her fingers didn’t stop with their soothing motions. “The boys are going to be so pissed that you’re awake before they’ve got back”.

You huff and dared to open your eyes, grunting at the brightness of the room but thankfully your eyes adjusted and only one, still, Natasha smiled down at you. Seeing that you weren’t going to vomit or freak out, Natasha sat back in her chair, moving to hold onto your hand to give you some comfort. “You gave us a real scare”.

You thought back to everything that happened, some of it was a blur but most of it still played through your mind like a horror movie that you couldn’t look away from or escape. “Was I really poisoned?”

There was one thing that you appreciated about Natasha and that was her blunt honesty, not one to ever sugarcoat her words, “You were”.

“But… But how? I mean… the soup, Rafael, he wouldn’t-”. You stopped yourself talking, trying to envision all the interactions you’d had with him but only one thing repeated through your thoughts: Don’t trust anyone. That was one of the first rules Steve had taught you. “I don’t understand why? He seemed so nice to me, is his name even Rafael? Was everything a lie?”

“That’s what they’re just finding out. Apparently, the friend of a friend rouse was made up including his credentials, usually, our background checks are very thorough but he had some help to slip through the cracks”.

“Do you know what help he had? Who it was, I mean?”

Natasha for once seemed to think before she spoke which unnerved you, knowing that whoever’s name she spoke next wouldn’t be good news.

The monitor displaying your heartbeat began to beep as it increased with the dread that was settling through your body.

“All signs are currently pointing to Pierce”.

Your eyes closed as you tried to remember how to breathe. You knew about Alexander Pierce. Everyone did. He was ruthless and had plenty of finances and power to pay for his success but not only this, he had been one of the top employees of Hydra and usually in charge of the Winter Soldier. So yes, you all knew a lot about Alexander Pierce and his name was one to send fear through any of those involved in the Rogers mafia, even Steve.

As you opened your eyes again to look at Natasha, you could tell she wanted to tell you more but was holding the information to not panic you further but you needed to know. “Please just tell me whatever it is you’re not telling me”.

“We think he paid this guy to come and spy on Steve and Bbucky and it seems he put his sights on you. Specifically.. Because you’re their biggest weakness and it seemed like everyone knows that”.

Your face warmed with fear and anger, as fear prickled the corner of your eyes, “So what, now I’m not even safe in my own home?”

“That’s not-” Tasha began to lean forward in her seat but another voice cut her off.

“No, you weren’t safe in your own home”. Steve stood at your hospital room door, dressed casually in a black shirt and jeans, looking nothing out of the ordinary but his face was wrath of calm and anger. Your eyes snapped from him to Bucky who had looked just as serious but as your eyes connected with his, the hard lines of his face smoothed out into a weak smile.

The two of them step into the room as Natasha stands, informing everyone that she’d give us some space and guard the door.

You’re trying desperately to keep the tears at bay, to keep them from slipping and cascading down your cheeks, not wanting your boyfriends to feel any more guilt but as you took a deep breath in, a sob erupts through you and you can’t keep the emotions back anymore.

You attempted to hide your face with your hands, even with the added difficulty of having tubes and wires attached to the backs of your hands and the tips of your fingers. The realities of everything that had happened began to destroy any hope that you had. You’d nearly died, in your own home where you were supposed to be most safe.

Steve and Bucky sat on either side of your hospital bed, moving silently as they always did and with careful ease, gently took a hand each and pried them away from your face, stroking away any tears that continued to escape.

“I’m sorry, I just- I don’t know… It’s a lot”, you tried to give reason for your crying, even though it was unnecessary. Bucky tilted your face towards him, his voice was so soft and caring that it nearly made you sob with how careful he was being with you, “Don’t apologise for crying, I tell you this all the time, Doll”.

You offered him a wet giggle, taking a few deep breaths before rambling on with your anxiety, “I bet I look like a right mess right now, I don’t even know how long I’ve been asleep for”.

They let you calm yourself down before Steve praises with his low captivating voice, “You always look beautiful, no matter how much snot is on your face”. He smiles as he manages to make you laugh before he turned serious, “It’s been 5 days, baby”.

Your face drops, “5… I’ve been asleep for 5 days?!”

“You passed out when we arrived and when they could finally stop the bleeding you-”

“Bleeding?” you questioned, remembering you were bleeding from the mouth but it didn’t seem like that much.

“The poison you’d ingested that day was a higher dose and caused internal bleeding. After they were able to stabilise you, they needed to detox you from the poison and make sure your body was healing so it was safe to keep you asleep”.

You tried to process everything that Steve had told you, it felt confusing for you to have been through so much and yet feel such little pain in your body.

As if reading your mind, Bucky once again captivated your attention as he asked, “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

“No I’m not in any pain but I feel wrong like my body is floating in the water or something”.

“That might be due to the medications that they’ve got you on, they’re pretty strong Sweetheart”, his pet name helped to calm your disorientated mind, clinging on to the familiarity and focusing on the way both of their hands were holding yours and stroking tiny circles in your skin,

“Did you get the answers you wanted, from Rafael, or whatever his name is”.

Steve and Bucky shared a glance between each other but Steve decided to be the one to answer. “We got the answers, it was as Nat was explaining. Pierce wanted someone in the gang, spying and getting as close to us as possible and I guess they somehow managed to weasel their way in and tried to succeed with their plan to hit our weak spot”.

You took a deep breath to try and reduce the rising anxiety in the pit of your stomach before asking tentatively, “So what happens now? With Pierce I mean.”

“That’s a problem for another time, just need you to get better first”, Bucky interjected, lifting your hand to kiss the few fingers that were attached with clips or wires.

You tried to smile at him, wanting him to know how much you appreciate him but the feeling never met your eyes and this seemed to twist something in Steve and Bucky. Both of their demeanours changed, no longer were you looking at just your boyfriends but also the mafia boss and his second in command, mixing business with family.

Bucky began talking first, tone strong and husky, “This isn’t something we are taking likely. Sam’s already spent the last day and a half revisiting everyone’s past, making sure there are no other moles that have slipped through the cracks. No new faces are allowed anywhere near our home or you.”

As he spoke, you managed sure to nod your head and try to squeeze his hand in understanding. Steve shifted in his chair, capturing your attention as he continued the discussion. “You are safe and you should have been safe but we let you down, you were vulnerable when we weren’t there to protect you like we promised we would. We let you down, we broke our promise, we could understand if you didn’t want-”.

“Whatever you’re about to say you better forget about it right now”, you say sternly, heartbeat beginning to race on the monitor again as Steve’s mouth shut quickly with a snap. “The idea of being your weakness has always frightened me but, I could also be your greatest strength. I mean - Look at what you’ve been going just to protect the house, to protect me. I know you feel like you’ve let me down but I don’t feel let down in any way. Yes, of course, what’s happened is scary, especially in our home but I doubt it’ll ever happen again. They can try and tear us apart, they can try, but they won’t break us, they can’t break us. We have to remain on top ok? I always feel safe and trusted when I’,m with you both so please, don’t ever feel like I'm not because I am. I’ll always love you both, I’m not going anywhere”.

You sucked in air greedily after your short speech, the building emotions spilling freely everything you truly believed to the men beside you, not wishing for them to ever feel doubt for the relationship or how you felt.

Looking between them both, your heart sank as you noticed Bucky quickly wipe the corner of his eye. “I thought you said no more tears”, you spoke softly whilst trying to wipe away a stray tear.

“That’s before you decided to swoon me with your speech”, he quipped back, the light returning to his eyes once more as you laughed.

“I love you Bucky”.

“I love you, Doll”, standing from his chair, his metal hand stroked over the side of your face as he captured your lips with his, lingering for a few beautiful seconds before sitting back down.

Steve had lifted your hand during your speech and was kissing your palm and you reached out to stroke his beard, “I love you, Steve”.

He too stood, just as Bucky had but he kissed your forehead first, breathing you in for a moment before doing the same against your lips. “I love you too, so much baby”.

As Steve sat back down, your eyes began to feel heavy, all of the strong emotions exhausted you completely. “Will you both be here when I wake up? Not that I’m complaining about Natasha but she doesn’t spoon me like you both do”.

They both chuckle under their breath before Steve promises, “We aren’t going anywhere, sleep, Sweetheart”.

[akystaracer22]

Maybe in Another Life We Would Hate Each Other a Little Less

A chance encounter sheds a little light on Adam that Lucifer couldn't have predicted, leading to a moment he thought he'd never have with the man.

Notes (Aka my thoughts while writing):

God is a dick and I wanna kill xem

Adam folds his wings like a bird because monkey see monkey do

Both these guys were traumatised by the same person and we don’t talk about it enough

Probably Guitarduck/Adamsapple but in a fledgeling platonic kinda way

Refer to my ref for what Adam looks like!

I listened to Rät while writing this and- it kind of fits Adam???

Jesus is God’s favourite child and it fucking shows

How tf did this become a sickfic????

Lucifer gets the experience of being me whenever I make the impulsive move to boot up Char.ai and talk to literally any of the AI’s, get aunt agonied bitch.

Oh my god Adam has middle child syndrome.

Can you tell I attended a Christian school when I was younger???

Adam was hiding just how fucked over he was from the wing rot but he’s not having a good time in this. Most of the latter half of the oneshot is him dazed from both the one set of wing rot and the feeling of someone touching his wing.

Shit emergency wing HC for Adam ig: His wings grow warmer corresponding to his mood, as in when he is in general happier his wings radiate warmth and when he’s in a foul mood they’re just normal or even a little cooler.

In saying that yes Lucifer’s wings glow when he’s happy

Word Count: 1902

Fic under cut!

“Fucking- Shit!”

Lucifer paused, looking behind him and backing up to peek through the crack in the door. This ought to be good.

Sure enough, he was right, this was entertaining.

Adam was ranting again.

Honestly it was a nearly daily thing by this point, probably the only good thing about his daughters decision to let Adam stay at the hotel. He loved his daughter, he really did, by Adam was… Adam.

Lucifer knew he was a lost cause.

But still, didn’t mean Lucifer couldn’t tease the hell out of the man since he was stuck down here with the rest of them.

Lucifer’s smirk at watching the first man rant quickly died as he took in the guys appearance, he looked…

“What is wrong with your wings.”

Adam jerked and twisted around, scowling at him and oops he said that out loud didn’t he.

“Piss off!”

Lucifer, in his typical fashion, did not piss off and instead entered the room, “No seriously what is wrong with your wings.”

Now that he was closer, the king was certain they didn’t look like that a week ago. The feathers, while already having looked like a wreck were duller and the colours seemed almost… muted. Ignoring the already horrific state Adam’s wing were in, they shouldn’t look THAT bad so why…

“Wait-”

“I said-!”

“Have you not been preening you wings?”

Adam went silent, staring wide eyed at Lucifer much to the kings confusion. A beat passed, then two.

“What the fuck is preening?”

Lucifer blinked, he wasn’t serious, was he?

Surely not.

.

.

.

“By the heavens you’re dead serious.”

“What the fuck are you talking about.”

Lucifer debated whether he should explain it or not. On one hand, it’s Adam. On the other, Wings were a serious thing. He’d even seen Husker cleaning his wings from time to time, for Adam to just not know…

“You know what? For once my hatred of you is outweighed by my need to show you what’s what,” The fallen seraphim huffed, closing the door behind him and summoning a chair to block it from the outside so Adam couldn’t escape. “Come on we’re fixing this travesty.”

“What part of fuck off you do you not understand?!” The first man snapped, his wings mantling as Lucifer rifled through the closet, dragging out one of the many jars of oil he’d had the foresight to put in most of the rooms, perks of being a guy with basic common sense.

“The part where you’re being stupid and my daughter started rubbing off on me,” Lucifer shot back, his own wings serving well to corral Adam towards the bed, “How you don’t know how to preen your wings is beyond me but that’s ending today.”

“Again- what are you blabbering about.”

Lucifer paused, hand hovering just over Adams feathers. Preening someone elses wings was… intimate. It was something reserved for friends, family, lovers, and stuff… not enemies. Was he really going to just go ahead and clean Adams wings for him?

The seraphim’s eyes flicked over to where the ruined wing was draped over the bed. The wing was already in bad enough shape as it was, if he didn’t do this then wing rot was bound to hit it at some point and-

He didn’t really have a choice, not if he didn’t want to watch someone die of wing rot again.

Adam went stiff under Lucifers touch as he started work on the mans functioning wing, it was the easiest to work with, not the mention the safest to start with. The injured wing would no doubt be sensitive to any interaction, so better to start small.

Ish.

Adam shuddered as Lucifer moved between feather’s, periodically reapplying preening oil as he went. He was right as usual, looking closer most of the barbules had been separated and needed to be locked together again. Grimacing, the seraphim gently scratched out what looked like dried blood from where it was hidden in the base of Adam’s Secondary coverts.

“What are you doing?” Adam whispered, his voice for once lacking it’s usual bite. Lucifer paused for a second in confusion before Adam’s wing flexed back into Lucifer’s hand, “Don’t stop!”

“Okay okay!” The king huffed, working on his primaries, “What I’m doing is called preening. It’s something beings with feathers do to clean them.”

“Like birds?”

“Yeah, like birds,” Lucifer agreed, “The oil helps take care of bacteria, but you got to realign the feathers, get rid of the ones ready to moult, and fix the feathers that are out of sorts, though you can just shake the feathers to do that part quicker.”

“Mhm”

Lucifer shifted over to finally tackle the ruined wing and froze, a chill slinking down his spine. As he took in the state of the tattered appendage.

“Shit.”

This close the seraphim could see the red pimples under the thinning layer of feathers surrounding the injury, it was wing rot in its early stages.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Lucifer dove his fingers into the scapulars to shut Adam up while he discreetly conjured up some disinfectant for the rot, if he’s lucky he can treat it now and just get Charlie or Vaggie to deal with it now, knock it over the head before it becomes so visible the others can notice. He ignored Adam’s breath hitching as the seraphim started, just as predicted, the wing was sensitive from the damage done to it.

“But seriously you need to do this more, this is just horrific,” Lucifer grumbled to himself, not really caring if Adam listened, “Honestly I’m surprised this hasn’t happened to you before!”

“Mmmm tried once… I think?”

Lucifer, glanced at Adam’s face, it was pointed away from him, but he could still sense Adam’s attention was on him, “Yeah?”

“Saw the birds doin’ it and tried to copy ‘em,” Adam continued at the prompt, spreading his other wing, “It hurt so I stopped, didn’ know there was a method to this shit or someth’n.”

“You… nobody even tried to teach you?”

“I think they thought I knew,” Adam chuckled sourly, “I think they thought I fu’kin knew how to just- do this. ‘Cause I was meant to right?!” Another laugh, “I bit the fu’kin apple so I shou’da known this kinda shit! Apple of knowl’dge or what’ver.”

Lucifer, wisely, didn’t say anything, he just kept working on Adam’s ruined wing, applying the disinfectant, and fixing what few feathers were still healthy and removing the rest. If it was anyone else in this situation he’s wrap the wing and tell them to rest but… it was still Adam that was in this mess.

“I- why didn’t they teach me? Luci why didn’t they teach me this shit?”

“I… don’t know,” Lucifer replied carefully, deliberately skipping over the butchering of his name that sounded way to close to a nickname for comfort, “Come on, up you get he still got the underside to finish then I’ll be out.”

Adam grumbled but complied, sitting up a little to turn around as Lucifer summoned a pillow for Adam to lean back on. Rolling his neck Lucifer got to work on the auxiliary feathers, the lighter feathers were definitely in better shape, but then again that wasn’t exactly a high bar, and they still were looking rough.

“Jesus was prob’bly taught how to preen himself.”

Lucifer’s shoulders hitched as his wings tucked in against his back abruptly. Jesus… was a rough topic. For all sinners talked about him, Lucifer never met him but from the sinners around that time… it was never a fun conversation. Pretentious once kings cursing his name while hopeless commoners lined up for the exorcists blade, faithful until the end that Jesus would let them into heaven if they just believed in him.

… there was a pattern in there, wasn’t there. Like father like son, he supposed.

“Jesus was made from me and yet he’s God’s favourite fukin kid, course he’d fucking know how to preen,” Adam continued unimpeded, “Doesn’t matter if I was Gods first- Jesus was always fucking better than me.”

Okay! Lucifer was in no way prepared for this conversation, but he highly doubted Adam was even going to remember this conversation, so he just focused on the wings.

“…Luci, do they all hate me?”

Lucifer sincerely wished Anthony, or just anyone really would bust down the door at this moment, at least then he could get himself out of this conversation.

“Why do you think that?” the seraphim deflected, moving onto Adam’s good wing and going through his coverts.

“Because none of them ever fucking did this,” Adam waved his hand haphazardly before letting it rest on his chest, “You’re my enemy but you’re fixin’ my fu’kin wings because I’m too stupid and useless to just figure it out myself.”

“Not useless,” The words left Lucifer’s lips without his input, damn himself to double hell, but it managed to shut up Adam, so he kept on the thought train, “You’re not useless you were just never taught, it’s not your fault heaven doesn’t think.”

“Jesus-”

“Is God’s prodigal son and shouldn’t be counted.”

Adam huffed and leaned back on the pillow, “Why’re you good at this?”

“I’ve had aeon’s to learn, and over a decade of putting it in practice,” Lucifer thought about his daughter, a small smile making it’s way into his expression, she really was the best thing to happen to him.

He finished up with Adams good wing and moved onto finishing off the wrecked one. Applying the disinfectant to the infected spots on the underside before reaching for the preening oil again.

“Y’know, maybe in another life we would’ve hated each other less.”

Lucifer just laughed and started preening the wing, yeah right, maybe in a reality where the apple incident never happened, “You’re sick Adam, feverish even.”

“And you’re a wife-stealer.”

“Should have been better in bed.”

“Fuck you,”

Lucifer stuck his tongue out at the first man, earning a tired chuckle. Then the seraphim blinked at the sudden warmth radiating out from the feathers. What in the-?

“Oh… they haven’t done that in a while.”

Lucifer blinked up at Adam who was staring at his feathers in amazement, “Ackde-whuh?”

Adam leaned back and closed his eyes, “Yeah… sometimes they just get warm all of a sudden it’s weird. Hasn’t happened in a while though. Apparently it sometimes happened when Lute was around? I dunno why.”

Lucifer blinked a couple of times before letting out a small “huh” and running a hand through the ruined wing, it was definitely warmer.

Sighing, Lucifer let his hand fall away despite the wing chasing it, “Alright well your wings are definitely cleaner now, so I’ll be out of your hair now.”

The seraphim stood up to leave through the balcony, opening the window and almost stepping out when Adam called after him, still sounding exhausted.

“I can see why they left me for you.”

Lucifer paused, before smiling sardonically and looking back at Adam, who looked like he might have just passed out.

“Tell me that when you’re not delusional from illness and I might believe you.”

With that, Lucifer stepped out and left for his own room… though, if Adam woke up to a small plush duck on his nightstand, that was between Lucifer and the god that cast him down.

But there is one thing Lucifer will admit.

Maybe Charlie wasn't wrong about thinking Adam could be redeemed.

Pings:

@sleepy-hijinx @whatataha @cyborg0109 @birbisanon @legogator @overlord-rey @luckyburgerz @spiny-dogfishes @justakidicarus

[ginsengkittensecondary]

I HAVE MOVED TO MY MAIN. PLEASE FOLLOW GINSENGKITTEN <3

“His large, rough hands adorned with rings, tenderly kissing the strings.”

*this is my very first gnr/slash fic. I’m not proofreading it either it’s just something for the depraved slash girlies*

✰ TEACHERS PET ✰

slashxreader

✰slash!xfem!/age!gap/praise kink/daddy issues/extreme!smut/NSFW ✰

Did not narrow down slashes age here. Anywhere from 40-current age- left up to reader

Because of your "fading talent", your dad thought it would be best to force you into guitar lessons. He told you if you took lessons seriously, that he wouldn't make you get a job. Guitar was your job.

You never resented guitar playing. It was your first love. You knew you were good at it. You could lose yourself in playing and the world would disappear. And you didn't want to disappoint your dad. You constantly felt like you weren't meeting his expectations of being some sort of renowned guitar player. But you knew nothing else and felt good at nothing else but guitar. It felt like you're only option as a career path.

Your dad worked in the music industry for over 20 years. He saw the success that could come from being a musician. He had connections and everyone knew him and he knew everyone. You remember tagging along in and out sporadically throughout growing up. It was just the two of you. You had met cool bands and musicians and other famous figure heads. While it was "cool", you also didn't care much as it had monopolized your childhood. Long nights, early flights, the rush of recording studios, backstages, waiting around on your dad in meetings. Probably sometimes being in places not meant for a kid. You became indifferent and tired.

But now you were older and the expectations of you were even more elevated. Your dad wanted more from you. You weren't sure if it was for profit or fame anymore for him. He never seemed quite satisfied and never gave any sort of clear affirmation.

-

You hopped out of the blacked out suburban with your equipment. Your dad closing the door behind you. You stepped into the cold night air. A shiver ran up your exposed legs under your skirt. Although a brisk walk from the parking garage to the recording studio, you wished you had dressed a little warmer. But dressing like a rockstar wasn't for wimps! You liked to model your style after female rockstars you had met growing up but always ended up just looking like some little groupie.

The recording studio was more or less an old penthouse with a recording area built in one of the rooms. It was nice but had this eerie grungy appearance that made it seem like it could have been a trap house in the 80s. While you tried your best to fit the role, you looked like you didn't belong there. Even your dad looked cooler than you. Suddenly you started to feel insecure. As you walked down the dark hallway inside, music became louder as the smell of cigarettes did too. A hazy light shone through a cracked door at the end of the hallway. Was this a guitar lesson or a concert? Your dad pushed through the door and you followed tucked behind him timidly. Immediately old friends of your dads excitedly gave him greetings and hugs complete with hearty slaps on the backs. You stood there nervously clutching your guitar. "You guys remember my daughter, Y/N!" Your dad announced you, stepping back to reveal you hidden behind him. Your cover suddenly exposed. "Well I'll be damned! If it isn't Y/N!" They all exclaimed happily. A scruffy man with blond hair embraced you fatherly and gave you a small gentle noogie on your head. "Man look at this kid! Haven't seen you since you were what, 12! Look at you all grown up now!" He said simultaneously exchanging his eyes from you to your dad. You grinned sheepishly embarrassed at the attention in the room on you. Guns n Roses. Man they were so fucking cool. You'd met them a few times growing up when your dad worked with them off and on. This part of his job was pretty cool. It was more like family friends than the world famous rock legends. Except when you were younger, the barrier between you and them was bigger. Your dad shielding you from the crazy drunken scraps, sessions and other rockstar mischief. You'd meet and then your dad would leave you with his assistant in another office or the tour bus while he fucked around with the guys elsewhere. But now you were an adult like them! You finally got to be on the inside. In the ring with the rockstars. This made you even more intimidated. 'Am I getting lessons from rockstars?' You panicked to yourself. Suddenly completely doubting your skill at all. They can't see you play! They'll laugh for sure. There's no way.

The music playing on the speaker suddenly changed to a softer tempo, "She Rides" by Danzig started playing. The slow intro intertwined with the dark atmosphere of the studio. Dark purple velvet curtains limply hung from the ceilings, old trunks full of excess junk and costume attire, records plastered the walls, the only light in the room glowing from dim warm lamps throughout the room. It felt safe and comfortable in here, like an old theatre. Cigarette smoke danced through the warm glow of the lamps.

The feeling of eyes on you started burning the back of your head. Someone was watching you. You turned your head to the left corner of the studio. A broad shoulder man sat open legged on a old couch and became illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp. The smoke trailed from his full lips out from under his dark full curls decorating his tan face. He had remained quiet and out of frame when the greetings went on. You dad shooting the shit with the other men in the room.

It's Slash. Your heart beat a little quicker in your chest. Oh my god of course, how could I forget SLASH! You became suddenly star struck for a brief moment. He was the GOD of guitar. He's so badass and he's so talented and he's....staring..at me? Your thoughts left your head. You felt his gaze on you like you were being hunted. Like his prey? You tried to examine him back, thinking you were being inconspicuous. His luscious curls sat atop his large broad frame, shirt slightly tight across his massive chest. His legs spread open as he relaxed into the couch like a lazy king on a throne. A cigarette pursed between his soft lips as he strummed a guitar. He kept his eyes on you, strumming without even looking. His large, rough hands adorned with rings, tenderly kissing the strings.

"Your new guitar teacher!"

You snapped into reality. "What?" You responded sounding a little more eager than you wanted to but so in disbelief. " Slash was kind enough to lend his time to you. You remember him right?" Your dad said flippantly. He walked over to the couch, harshly scooting you along with him. No fucking chance. You tried to lock back in and play it cool. Slash lifted his guitar off his lap and set it aside. He leaned forward on the couch to greet you. His gaze on you now more apparent and obvious. He scanned you up and down. "Well look who's all grown up." He said in a teasing but serious manner. He half smirked at you. You weren't sure how he intended that to come across but the way it landed made your stomach flutter and your cheeks flush. "I've been told you're quite the player these days" He said, still scanning you. Was everyone else in the room so oblivious to the electricity unfurling? Or was it just you? Was his blatant hungry gaze all in your head because you wanted it to be real? Because you wanted slash to think you were pretty? Because you thought he was attractive? No. It was real. His primal gaze on your body was definitely real. How was everyone else missing this? The energy in the room? Did your dad not realize the borderline dangerous fixation that slash's eyes cast on you? You snapped back again, remembering why you were there.

What you yourself were oblivious to was the fact that his eyes had locked onto you the second you entered the room. Not recognizing the delicate girl who looked like a brand new doll getting thrown into a junkyard. She stuck out like an Angel to him. Her soft and bright features contrasted the worn out room. She looked pretty but young. How young? Who was this girl? This wasn't Y/N was it? His friends daughter he had agreed to tutor although half drunk at the time of his agreement. It couldn't be her, this girl here now was grown up and filled out. He couldn't help but pour his eyes over her entire body. Her soft and smooth legs, her thighs tucked under a little black leather skirt that hugged her hips so perfectly. A nice little ass under there too. God she was perfect. His pants grew a little tighter. He couldn't stop looking at her. She's like a timid little bunny, he thought to himself. Too timid. Too young. Need to check yourself, he snapped back into reality as she walked over to the couch. It was Y/N. Wow- She had to have been 19 or 20 by now if he remembered right. Still, what would a bright young girl like herself want with a old man like him? He steadied himself. Remember why she's here. She's not your next meal. Yet.

-

It was nearly midnight at the studio. But to everyone in the music industry it might as well have been 5'o clock in the afternoon. The night just getting started to most. After and hour or two of your dad catching up with the guys and some other musicians, the penthouse became filled with people. This was one of your average studio parties it seemed. Not so much a lesson. You did wonder why the lesson was so late at night in the first place. Now it was apparent that your dad had wanted to party with the crews and the lesson was a back burner idea. You were not really a partier. In fact not at all. As the party began to rage louder and heavier, the more you stuck out like a sore thumb. You felt silly and out of place. Surrounded by drunk messy adults, heavy metal blaring through the sound system. Everyone had filtered out of the studio and you sat on the couch once occupied by Slash earlier in the night. His peppery, musky cologne lingered on the couch, it smelled so good. He smelled so good. You couldn't stop seeing the image of his face in your mind. The depraved, hungry stare he had locked onto you earlier. It simultaneously struck butterflies and fear into your body. Your dad had disappeared into the party and it honestly gave you relief that he wasn't there to hover over you, casting shadows of his disappointment in you through every undertone of every word he spoke. Technically though, that did mean you could practice without anyone's judgement.

You began unpacking your guitar on the floor, checking the strings, your picks, your sheet music. You put your headphones on and turned on none other than Guns N' Roses. Trying to drown out the heavy metal playing in the other rooms. You hummed to yourself while you fiddled with your things.

Moments later, the door opened slowly and slash entered. He was alone, holding a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He immediately saw you over the corner by his favorite spot. He quietly shut the door behind him and made his way to the couch. Seeing you oblivious to his gaze, he quietly studied you from the couch. His thoughts once again snaking their way through impure desires. The way your reddened knees held you on the floor. A small glimpse of cotton panties poking out from under your skirt. Your thighs curving across your calves like a puzzle piece. He watched the way your delicate small hands tried to handle the far too oversized guitar laid across your lap. Fuck she's so cute he thought. He could hear the GNR song "Think about you" playing from your headphones. Unaware you weren't alone, you softly chirped out a few lyrics to yourself as you hummed.

"I think about youuuu, deep inside, I love you best."

He let out a breathy chuckle

"I think about youuuu, you know you're the one I want..."

He could watch you in your own world forever like this. Your sweetness enveloped the room. A breath of fresh air he had been craving for so long. It made his heart pound in his chest. He licked his lips. Studying his student. The adoration danced with a dark and perverse stream of wishes. To get closer to you. To feel your warmth and inhale your sweet scent. To touch you. Your soft and delicate skin. To have you. He had to have you. He left the couch and stood behind you. The light from one of the lamps now being shaded threw you out of your little world and you slowly turned around in confusion.

"Oh my god!" You yipped out in a fast spool of fear, embarrassment and shock. You twirled back to him on your knees. His tall dark body towered over you like a monolith. He smirked big. Looked down at you on your knees in front of him sent aches down his chest and into his abdomen. It drove him crazy. It was exactly where he wanted you if it were up to him. Your innocent eyes peering up to him. Your fear almost adding a little bit of extra sweetness to him. You looked so cute to him when you were scared. You quickly took off your headphones. "Didn't mean to scare you doll face." He chuckled maliciously. You hesitated to believe that was true.

Suddenly Slash broke the thin barrier of space that had been aching to be ripped apart between the two of you. His large strong hands wrapped around your small wrists and he yanked you on your feet. At full stature you still only met his sternum in height, still peering up at him. The warmth of his strong hands touching your skin shocked you in the best way. Deep swirls pooling inside you. His scent now strong in your presence. You were so close to him. Almost body to body. Your doe eyes glittered up at him. He let out a slight huff as his serpent stare connected with you once again. Like a hungry animal. "This perfect body. I need to ruin her pretty cunt. Fuck me..." he thought. He glanced down at your chest concealed in your tight shirt and then back to your face, know you saw him do it too. He wanted you to see. A slight curl of his lips as he did it. His big hands still wrapped around your dainty wrists. You slightly try to pull them away as to relieve him of his duty to help you up but his grasp tightens and his lips curl. "You've grown up little bunny" he broke the thick silence in his scratchy and deep voice. Giving one more soul stealing stare and he let you go before you could reply. He sat on the couch, resuming his king like pose. He took a drag from his cigarette and sucked the smoke into his nose. Staring at you as he slowly let the smoke trickle out of his lips and nose. God did he know what he was doing? Fuck he was so hot you thought. You wanted to just climb on top of him and steal the smoke right out from his mouth. "So I've been told" you sneer back. "And you're sassy now too? Tsk tsk" he clicked jokingly. "So.." you ignore his quip. "When do I get this lesson of yours?" You ask earnestly. His eyebrow raises. Was that a serious question? He thought. The innocent and curious nature of your voice. He tried to ignore his pants becoming more uncomfortably tight again. He placed a guitar over his lap and strummed to hide anything. "I have a couple things I could teach you little bunny."

You wondered if his statement was two folded or if you were just imagining things. The conversation could have easily been interpreted as normal to an unsuspecting person. So your reply you camouflage in case his intention isn't what you thought. "I want to learn so many things. I'll be the best student. I promise" you say sweetly. That drives him crazy. This girl knows what she's doing doesn't she? He thought. He thinks on a reply before saying anything. Combing his mind to think what the next move is here. Calculating.

Everything else falls away and you deem it in this moment to finally have something YOU want for a change. No more expectations. If it fails it fails but it's not like you lose anything. It's not like anyone cares, let alone this massive superstar in front of you who can have anyone he wants.

Your need for his touch makes you brave and you trace your fingers over his as he plays. He doesn't stop at this though but glances at you. "I can be a real good student, Slash." You coo to him in exactly the right tone to drive him crazy. This now stops him. Hearing his name escape your perfect lips. He needs to have you. All to himself. As soon as possible. He traces his ring decorated fingers over yours on the neck of the guitar. You hover your face at the head of it. His fingers slowly snake up the neck. He takes a final pause before connecting with your skin once again. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. Goosebumps explode across your arms. The tip of his thumb dips into your mouth, he rests it atop your tongue. "Sweet girl" he whispers gravelly. He doesn't know your slit is wet with eagerness just as you don't know his cock is throbbing with excitement. He removes his thumb slowly from your mouth and grips your jaw with his robust hand. He pulls your face forward to him. "Do you want to be a good girl for me Y/N?" His hand tightly gripping your face. You ignited something inside him. You awoke something so primitive. He set his guitar aside and you quickly took its place on his lap. Your light warm weight resting on his crotch. You felt his bulge already at full extent. It felt good against your panties. You give it a slight grind as you secure yourself on top of his lap. He lets out a low sharp groan and gently throws his head back, leaving his thick neck open for the taking. You start peppering small kisses up his neck. His warm silver scruff brushes against your lips as his jaw clenches. You meet his ear.

"I want to be your good girl Slash." You whisper in his neck. You felt him throb underneath your wet panties.

He needs to fuck you. You were like a precious gem to be scrounged after. He wanted all of you. He needed to make you his. To own you entirely.

Climbing him like a jungle gym. He pulls you back with your hair in his fist. He grips your face again tighter this time and makes you look at him.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asks.

"Please" You cry.

-

You lock the door The air seems to leave the room. Is this really happening? What's happening? Does he just want to fool around? To kiss me? To fuck me? God I need him to fuck me. Your thoughts raced at the reality before you.

Suddenly his hands snake around your waist. His warmth flush against your back. You let out a small gasp of surprise and pleasure. His large hand grips your entire neck tilting it to the side. He sprinkles gentle kisses down your neck and you let out a sigh of pleasure. "I'm going to ruin you Y/N. You know that?" He cooed. "I'm going to make that pretty cunt of yours mine." He taunted. You let out a whimper.

I want to ravish her but at the same time I feel like I could break her in half at a single touch. He thought.

Fuck it. I need to have her."

You become blind with pleasure and melt into his arms. Still gripping your neck. He walks you both backward and falls back on the couch, towing you onto his lap. Still behind you, he fists your hair in his hand and the other travels down to your thighs. You get increasingly needy for more. You grind your ass on his lap. His ringed fingers tease up your inner thigh. "You ready to be a good little bunny for me?" He affirms one more time before letting himself go feral on your body.

"Please Slash"

"Please what baby? Use your words honey"

"Please fuck me. I need you. Please." You whine.

That was all the confirmation he needed. He just wanted to hear you say it again. Hearing you beg for him pushed him over the edge. He grips your hair tightly again. Ensuring your neck is wide open. He is suddenly completely animal. He dives into your neck and collar, this time his kisses are many and messy. He bites your neck. You whimper louder this time and he moans into your neck in reply. "That's its sweet girl. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours" he pants

His fistful of your hair, guiding your neck open. His other hand slides up your skirt and finds your panties.

"My little bunny is already wet? That's a good girl." He praises into your ear from behind. You arch your hips into his hand. Needing more.

"Needy girl, aren't you?"

His hand moves from your hair to your breast. His large hand completely covering it. He gives it a strong squeeze and then slips it underneath your shirt and bra. You gasp as you feel his rough hand hold you. He loves the way your tits feel. Grinding your ass on his lap he begins rubbing circles on your panties. Right where it feels so good.

"I've wanted to do this since the minute you walked in tonight. In your tight little skirt. It drove me crazy." He whispers with hot breath on your ear. Still working his hands simultaneously on you. He shoves his hand into your panties and starts toying with your soaked cunt.

"So wet for me huh dollface?" He grins feeling his way through your warm folds. He hikes you up higher on himself and enters a finger inside you.

"Oh fuck Slash." You moan.

"Spread those pretty legs for me doll"

"This pretty pussy is mine now, you understand?" He growls in your ear. His hands so muscular and talented, he effortlessly slides in and out of your pussy while making perfect pinches on your nipple simultaneously. The years of guitar playing shining through his fingers. He plays you. His thrusts feel so fucking good inside you. You grind down on his fingers, he holds you tight in his arms like a wild animal trying to squirm. You grind your ass back on his cock, feeling his size through his jeans. He groans. "I need to see that pretty cunt". He exits you and places you on the couch facing outward and he kneels before you. He lays you back and grabs your legs and pulls you forward to his face. He carelessly flips your skirt up and hikes it over your hips, exposing your panties underneath.

"You don't need these anymore" he says. You raise your hips as he slides your panties down and off your legs. The cool air washes over your exposed bottom.

Now bare, he spreads your legs open wide and looks at your pussy as he prepares to dine on it like a wolf with fresh meat. "Such a pretty cunt" he gives it a slap and before you can fully react to the surprise or pain, his face disappears into your legs. His warm tongue glides right into your pussy.

"Oh fuck." You moan softly. You can't think straight. You lace your fingers into his thick curls.

Heavy rock muffles in the background but all you focus in on is the sounds of his lips on yours. He eats you like a savage. He looks up at you through dark eyes and flattens his whole tongue up your pussy in one long stroke.

"You taste so good baby."

You whimper. You need more. He looks at you with hooded dark eyes. He needed more.

He stands up and unbuckles his belt. You sit up on your knees and take over. Your hands stop his own and you look up at him. "Can I do it please?" You almost beg. He takes no time to think on that and allows you to continue. Your eyes line with his tanned happy trail peeking out from under his shirt. You dip your fingers into his waistline and feel a massive warm shaft. The other hand pulling down his waistline. You free his throbbing cock. It glistens along its thick veins. The girth is incredible. You waste no time and lick the pre cum off the tip. That send him into a craze. He tips his head back and groans loudly. "Fuck baby. Be a good girl for me." He commands. You take him in your mouth -or try to. He's so big but you manage to take it all in down to the back of your throat. You gag slightly on its size. He tastes so good. You Bob your head up and down. Swiping your tongue all over in a messy fashion. He fists your hair again and starts guiding your head on his hard cock. He lets out a deep hiss and pants faster.  You look up and see the muscles in his throat clenching. He looks down at you as he continues thrusting into you. "That's a good girl. That's such a good girl" he pants in disbelief and pleasure. Sweat beads down his face. Tears well in your eyes as you choke on his size. Giving a few last hard thrusts he slips himself out of your mouth and caresses your messy spit covered face. Looking at you on your knees if front of his cock, the hungry look on your face. It makes him throb. It's almost painful. "Lay down baby" he says. You obey and lay back vertically on the couch. He removes his pants and shirt, exposing a muscular yet softly toned and tan abdomen, decorated with a large tattoo across his stomach. He then leans over and removes your shirt and bra. All that remained was the small leather skirt riding up your waist more like a sash than a skirt now. He hovers over you, his necklaces hanging from him. He opens your legs and gives his cock and few pumps before teasing your soft wet entrance. "Look how sweet you look." He smirked devilishly. "Please fuck me slash" you beg. He grits his teeth out of pleasure to hear those words come from your mouth. Hours earlier this was nothing but a perverted fantasy in his mind. But now he had you, naked underneath him. Ready for his cock. He leaned down to your face and gripped it once more. His hand on your face, he licked your breasts briefly. You try to tip your head back but he forces it forward. " Look right at me honey. Right here. Let me see that pretty face as I fuck you. Are you ready? You're so ready." He grumbles out. He smiles at you, a painful grip on your face, forcing you to look straight at him. His tip brushes the leaking wetness from your pussy all around like a paintbrush. And then slowly he slides his cock in.

You want to squint your eyes shut in pleasure, he gives your head a firm shake to remind you to look at him "I know baby I know." He growls. He himself tries to control his voice through his own searing pleasure. You whimper loudly

"Oh fuck Slash oh my god" You sharply inhale and whine out.

"That's it little bunny, let me hear your pretty voice".

He coos as he begins thrusting in and out of your wet hole. His grunts vibrate your body. His thrusts rock your body like ocean waves. He begins a faster rhythm almost If only to watch your breasts sway up and down with each thrust. His stance towering over you.

You continue letting out moans. Your moans are like honey to him. Weakening his limits with each sweet cry out.

"Oh that's a good girl taking my cock." He coos again.

"Slash I can't-" words fail you. You begin feeling a familiar tenseness overtake your body. 

"Is my pretty girl going to cum out of her pretty cunt?" He teases.

His rhythm increases. His rough skin slapping agains your soft supple skin. Sweat drips down his tanned abdomen. The power of each thrust inside of you increasing.

He feels your wet walls tightening around his cock. Looking down at you getting fucked by him- he was close too.

"Slash I'm-" you moan

"Be a good girl and cum for me doll-face. Look at me, look at me."

"That's it, you can do it" he encourages before tipping over his own edge. His grunts louder and more animal. His chains sway above you. He slaps against you. His brow furrows and his sweaty curls drape along his face as he pants like a dog in heat.

The bittersweet finale of stars bursts throughout your body. Your pussy tightens over his cock once more in ecstasy.

"Oh that's such a good girl" he grunts as he also reaches his breaking point. He releases hot white spurts inside of your quivering cunt.

A loud grunt leaves his throat. His large cock twitches inside you, finishing you off with pure pleasure. He smiles still thrusting inside you. Shoving his cum deeper inside

"That's a good girl, take it. Take it all." he whispers

The wetness leaks out of you as he pulls out. You both panting for air.

"God you're beautiful. You're perfect" He says breathlessly. He looks at his disheveled masterpiece below him. Completely braindead fucked. You blush hard. A shyness making its way back to your senses. He continues eyeing you. He softens his hand on your face, thumbing your cheek gently.

He protectively dotes on you as he helps re dress you again. Taking pride in taking care of you like this. You feel satisfied yet silly. You blush as he finishes and smooths him hand down your hair. "I own you." He whispers.

To him. The most beautiful girl was now his and his alone. He felt prideful and protective of his girl. He didn't want anyone else here to even glance at you. You were too sweet and kind for a place like this. Parts of him questioned his own morality for corrupting something so delicate. But he was too far gone.

He had unlocked the door with luckily no one having tried to find them in the past hour. In precise timing, axl drunkenly stumbled through the studio door. "Studying guiar at a time like this?" He slurred.

"Careful now girlie or you'll end up the teachers pet."

"Alright fuck off" Slash Ushered him out the door and closed it. He locked it again.

You sat embarrassed on the couch and he sat next to you.

"You are a little teachers pet aren't you?" He smirked.

[bruisedboys]

hii lovely, congrats on 3k!!! can i get a blurb for dialogue prompt “ there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you. “ with james potter please? <333

thank you ml!! loved this prompt with james so much tbh

summary: you get overwhelmed at the pub and james is the best boyfriend ever

fem!reader 0.9k words

James has made a habit of finding you when you’re upset. He’s got this creepy sort of sixth sense for you that really comes in handy at times like this.

He finds you in the pub bathroom. Knocks on the door and somehow you know it’s him before he even opens his mouth.

“Y/N, is that you in there? It’s James.”

You sigh. Not because you hate that he’s found you, but because you hate that he’s left the group to find you. He’s always doing this. Leaving the fun for the sake of you. You scrub your teary face harshly.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you call back, your voice much too clogged with upset for your liking. “Give me a second.”

You wash your hot hands and face, pat them dry with your shirt, then open the door. James appears, looking like an angel in the dim light. His leather jacket a stark black against his white silk shirt. The chain you’d gifted him on his birthday sitting snugly over his sternum.

He smiles when you appear. Soft and kind. “Hi, pretty girl,” he says, beaming. “You know, I was really hoping it was you in there, otherwise that would’ve been really awkward.”

You giggle despite yourself. It’s hard not to smile around James. But then someone pushes past you to get to the bathroom and it’s like all the noise comes rushing back, and you remember where you are. Remember why you’re upset.

James must catch the way your face falls because he gets his hand around your elbow and pulls you to the side, a tiny space out of the way of everyone else.

“Do you want to go outside?” He asks you, straining to be heard over the noise. “It’s loud in here, isn’t it?”

He’s being gracious. Pretending he hates it here because he knows you do. It makes you want to cry.

“Yeah, please,” you say, too quiet, nodding because you’re pretty sure he can’t hear you.

James gets the message. He guides you out of the pub quickly but gently, and it only takes a few minutes before you’re out of the crowd and in the fresh air. It’s cooler out here, the air fresher. And it’s far more quieter.

“Better?” James asks quietly. He’s watching you carefully.

You nod. “Yeah, much. Thanks, Jamie.”

James grins and nudges your shoulder. “Any time, shortcake. You wanna sit down?”

He’s guiding you over to the stone steps that lead to the pub’s side door before you even answer. He sits you down and then sits down himself, close enough that his jeans rub against your half-bare thigh.

His arm presses into yours. Goosebumps erupt in his wake. You shiver, partly because of the cold air and partly (mostly) because of James. He notices, because of course he does.

“You’re cold?” He asks, already moving to take his jacket off. He pulls it off and gets it over your shoulders. “Here, sweetheart.”

You try to protest but it’s lost to the wind when James helps your arms into his jacket. It’s warmer than warm and it smells like him. His heady cologne, his familiar bergamot scent.

“Thanks, James,” you say, very quietly. It’s hard to get your lips around the words when you’re feeling so overwhelmed by him. By his care for you. You think you might start crying if he does one more nice thing for you tonight.

“Stop saying thanks,” he says, fake-scolding. He gets his arm around your shoulder and squeezes. “You don’t need to, angel. I’m happy to help.”

He turns his head so he can kiss the skin next to your eye and your heart feels like it might burst. He’s so nice. So lovely. You feel like you need to tell him how much it all means to you.

“Hey, James?”

James hums to show he’s heard you. You swallow.

“Um. You don’t have to do all this for me, you know?” Your voice sounds too quiet. James makes you shy at the best of times. “I know you were having fun in there. A-and, it’s not that I’m not grateful for your help, because I really am. I just … I don’t want to ruin your fun.”

James doesn’t say anything. You twist so you can look at him, worried you’ve said the wrong thing. He’s got this half-frown on his face. It’s hard to figure out what he’s thinking. He sighs, then. But it’s far from impatient.

“Lovely girl,” he says through another sigh. His eyes flicker up to your hairline and he lifts one hand to push your hair behind your ear. When he meets your eyes again it’s so intense you can’t really look away. “Don’t think things like that, honey. Don’t think that I’m— that I’m wasting my time looking after you, or something like that. I’m not.”

James cups his hand around your neck and you find yourself unable to say anything. He’s pouring his heart out and it’s all you can do not to start crying.

“I love looking after you. Because I love you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, you know? Nowhere I wouldn’t go.” He dips his fingers beneath the shoulder of your top, then grins and adds, “No lame party I wouldn’t leave.”

You giggle, even though you’re so close to tears your eyes sting.

“I love you,” you say, because apparently you’re not allowed to say ‘thanks’ anymore and it’s the only response you can think of anyway.

James grins. Hooks his fingers under your chin and taps twice. “I love you back, shortcake. But you already knew that.”

You did already know that. You’d never really doubted it.

-

[cottonlemonade]

2 For 1

word count: 795 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: Inuoka x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: Lev

synopsis: Inuoka has a crush on you and tries to find the courage to talk to you with more or less success

Inuoka threw a quick glance at his reflection in the storefront window to make sure his hair still looked tousled as ever.

With a deep breath he stepped through the automatic door and heard your Welcome call. He stuttered a Hello back and, like the previous week, began wandering aimlessly through the rows of products, picking one up every once in a while and pretending to study it closer before putting it back and doing the same thing a few steps further down the aisle. He kept throwing looks in your direction as he tried to come up with a somewhat confident, possibly maybe even kinda sorta flirty line. You seemed to be occupied with noting things down in a black folder, checking a small stack of receipts.

Despite the busy street outside, the store itself was mostly deserted.

He just had to say Hello. The rest would come on its own, right? He absentmindedly grabbed something off the shelf to appear customer-y while he ran through various greetings in his mind.

Hey! Hi! Yo! Sup? Hello. Hello! Hello (in a deepened voice).

None sounded right.

“Can I help you?”

Inuoka gave a loud shriek and jumped. His heart pounded when he turned around and saw you hiding a laugh behind your hand, then composing yourself again and giving him a smile bright enough to lighten his whole week.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You just seemed to… contemplate quite strongly there. I wanted to assist.”

“Y-yeah…”, Inuoka said, feeling his ears getting warmer. He was glad for that standard blue vest every convenience store part-timer seemed to wear. If you would have hit him with your whole unfiltered cuteness he probably would have collapsed. He had severely underestimated just how gorgeous you were. Your chubby cheeks and round hips had him think of picnics and feeding you strawberries and sweets, kissing your soft lips to share their taste.

“So, what kind of cat do you have?“

“Huh?“

You pointed at the tiny can of cat food in his hand.

“Oh… I-I…“

Aaaand, he even forgot his own name.

Sensing his short circuit, you said, “I‘ve seen you around here last week, too. You go to Nekoma, right?“

Inuoka nodded, still clutching the cat food.

“Yeah- how did you…“ He was in awe of your detective skills until you pointed at his chest.

“Your jacket kinda gave it away.“, you laughed and he could have melted right into the ice cream in the cooler next to you at the sound.

You seemed to wait for him to say something but he couldn‘t think of anything else besides how prettily your eyes sparkled in the fluorescent lights (and he felt that might come on a little strong, so he stayed quiet).

“This one is really popular. And it‘s 2 for 1 today.“, you said eventually, grabbing a different brand from the shelf and holding it out to him.

Now, Inuoka didn‘t have a cat but he took the two small cans without hesitation, feeling his fingertips tingle where he accidentally touched your hand.

You blushed. So did he. And after another moment of silence you turned to go back to the cash register.

When he finally worked up the courage to say something, the doors slid open and a group of middle schoolers came in, chatting loudly, grabbing sodas and snacks. Meanwhile, the middle blocker scanned the prepared food section, keeping himself occupied until the kids left and he could try again.

With an onigiri, a peach tea and the two cans of cat food in hand he shuffled towards the checkout, determined to actually use a complete sentence.

“Did you find everything?“, you asked, blessing him once more with an arresting smile.

“Yes, thank you.“ Not bad, he praised himself. “Hey so… I was wondering, if-“

“Inuokaaa!“, a giant silver haired boy stood in the doorway, throwing a comically large shadow on the linoleum flooring, “Are you done staring at the Fukurodani girl? Wanna come practice with me?“

Utterly mortified, Inuoka forced himself to meet your eyes, then took a deep breath and with tense but straightened shoulders said firmly, “No, I‘m not done yet.“

Granted, it came out a little higher than he would have preferred but it definitely had the effect he was hoping for.

Your eyes widened, your mouth fell open and your face was dusted pink.

Inuoka floated out of the store, and as soon as he was out of sight pulled his phone from his pocket to save your number you had jotted down for him on the back of his receipt. On his way home later he‘d give the food to the strays he always came across and send you pictures of them enjoying their meal.

[ravenfenty]

RUNNIN'

Pairings: STEVE ROGERS X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: None just fluff. I was in the mood for fluffy Steve. Enjoy. Images and gif not mine. Sort of edited

_________

Running was a favourite pass time of Steve. It was a great way to get your steps in and curb the anxious thoughts that'd creep in during the day. If he couldn't fall asleep, he'd walk if he woke up too early with fatigue leaving him he'd go for a jog.

Steve chose the same route all the time. 6am sharp, he was out of his apartment and running. Sometimes bumping into Sam.

"On your left."

"Oh, come on." Sam would call out, picking his own running pace to catch up to him.

Soon, more runners joined. It was the new craze online now, thanks to social media. News outlets and articles. Encouraging people to exercise and run.

You'd been roped in by those articles. There were so many health benefits, too. Great for cardiovascular health, brain health, and social health, you name it.

You wanted something different than the everyday gym visit. Soon, you saw yourself joining a run club. It was a nice group of men and women. Chatting as they jogged besides each other.

Your friend had joined alongside you with her husband. It was working great for her relationship, spending time with her husband as they both worked longish hours.

So most times, you are third wheeling. You didn't mind. You had others to chat to. As the months were getting cooler, numbers dropped. But you pushed through.

Today was your day off, and so you decided to run earlier. Putting on light but warm jacket and taking other needed essentials.

It was nice our birds chirping, lovely autumn colours displayed around you. You jogged slowly, taking in your surroundings. There were at least 20 of you were jogging this morning.

You heard footsteps beside. You turned your head to find. Steve figure touring over yours he was wearing navy blue sports pants and a grey compression shirt.

Wow

You thought to yourself.

That was the first of run-ins. It soon became a common occurrence. 6am, slow jog, and Steve running past you with Sam.

It became your favourite part of the day. Talking to Steve and Sam came easy, a nice conversation flowing. You'd even exchanged numbers with him and Sam.

Sometimes, Steve, Sam, your friend and her husband, and you went out for breakfast. Or hung out at dinners hosted at your apartment.

The warmer months were now approaching again, run ins with the super soldier and the falcon were not as much. Missions had, been keeping them away. And anyone who'd watched the news knew what was happening. The fight between the Avengers, Steve finding the Winter Soldier.

At times wouldn't get a text back until days later. Then they started dwindling....it sucked to say the least but you understood. Steve and Sam were put there protecting the world.

To say you didn't start to like Steve you'd be lying. The texts from him had turned flirty. You were skeptical at first but then started to flirt back.

You loved the deep conversations and the jokes you had going between the two of you and the deep timbre of his voice when he got a chance to call.

It was the evening and you were cooking a nice meal before you settled with champagne and a nice steak and veges.

A knock on the door. Caught your attention, you peeped through the peep hole. Steve stood there with flowers and a tuxedo.

"Hey".

"Hey."

"These are for you." Steve held out the bouquet of pink roses and white mixed in with baby's breath. You took the flowers, loving the welcoming sweet scent of the roses.

"Thank you, Steve, do come in."

Steve entered and closed the door behind the both of you. You walk to your pink couch, and Steve joined you.

"I'm sorry I've been ghost the past few months, I should have been more transparent."

"That's okay, I understand that you were busy, it's part of the job, hey. How have you been?".

"Yeah, a tough job, some days, but thoughts of you and calling you was a nice comfort. I've been alright, just glad it's all over. How have you been?".

"I've been good,just keeping busy with work. Back to the gym, there is no running club anymore, at least for me. I've missed talking to and running with you. "

"I've missed your company too. What I'd like to ask you Y/N. I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me?".

"Yes Steve, I'd love to."

[strangerqueerthings]

Billy hates the rain.

In San Diego, it rarely rains. The climate there is often called "American Mediterranean," due to the warmer winters and cooler summers, with only 40 days or so of rain a year.

Billy hates the rain because it means being stuck inside. It means not being able to escape Neil, being stuck in the house with him- or later, being stuck inside with him, Susan, and Max. He can only play his music so loud without being yelled out, and it's never loud enough to drown out the screaming between Neil and Susan, and it's always loud enough to bring down Neil's wrath.

It rains a lot more in Hawkins. Not a lot, compared to other places, if you ask around, but it's a lot more than Billy's used to, and he hates it, because it's more time under the same roof as Neil.

Which is why he finds himself in the woods, sitting in the back of Eddie Munson's van, the doors open to let in fresh air as they smoke and share a beer.

He'd just wanted to buy some weed, then drive to an isolated place to smoke in his car and ride out the rain, sober up, then drive home in time to crash, avoiding Neil altogether.

Eddie had surprised him, though.

When Billy had asked for indica, Eddie had lifted a brow.

Everyone asks him for sativa- they want the mind high, the giddiness and the "everything is funny," kind of high that makes them feel good without making them want to faceplant into the floor.

Yet here's Billy Hargrove, the newest bad boy, the new King of Hawkins High, standing in the rain, asking for indica, wanting the full-body stone that makes one sleepy, content, and agreeable before sliding into a well needed sleep.

And he wants to smoke some, sleep it off, then go home.

"Have you ever smoked indica?" Eddie asks.

"It makes you drowsy," Billy shrugs. "I've always had sativa, but I want something a bit more mellow."

"Yeah, sorry, man. I don't know if I can give you a strain you've never smoked- especially if you're gonna drive somewhere by yourself, when you don't know how you're gonna react to it," Eddie replies with a frown.

Billy wants to punch him. He's taking a risk, coming out to buy weed, and from what everyone says about Munson, the less time spent around him, the better. But he sure as hell doesn't want to drive away empty handed- and he sure as fuck doesn't want to go home, or be sober.

When Billy sets his jaw, the tendons in his neck going taut, Eddie expects a swing at his face, but it doesn't come. Billy simply shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and turns to go back to his car.

"Hey," Eddie says. "Hold up."

Billy glances over his shoulder at him, and when his hair falls off his cheek, Eddie sees the barest hint of a faded bruise, and it clicks.

Hargrove hasn't gotten into a fight- not yet. It'd be all over school if he had- especially since everyone knew Tommy Hagan was the first one to talk about any fights.

"What?" Billy asks, his voice tight.

At that moment, he looks like a sad, wet stray dog afraid of getting kicked, and Eddie can't stand it. He might be a hard ass, but he looks so pathetic, despite the clenched jaw and hard eyes, that Eddie can't send him away. Eddie motions for him to come over, patting the blanket he's spread over the back of his van. "Come on. Free sample, see if you react to it alright. If you do, I'll sell you some, and you can be on your way. How's that sound?"

He can't really say no to that, and sharing a joint with Eddie Munson is better than going home.

So here he is, feeling the tension drain from his body as he leans against the inside of the van, watching the rain fall outside as he and Eddie pass the joint back and forth in companionable silence.

Eddie doesn't ask any questions, doesn't even make small talk, and Billy appreciates it- especially since he can see that Eddie is full of curiosity.

He's also glad Eddie let him have a free try- indica hits him like a sledgehammer. He's not about to fall asleep- his natural anxiety is too strong for that- but he's so relaxed, his limbs so heavy, that the thought of getting up seems like such an insurmountable task that he can't even fathom driving home.

But for the first time in a while, he feels relaxed enough that he can unclench his jaw, lie back against the panel of the van, and just listen to the rain pattering on the metal roof.

Eddie moves to the front of the van and puts the engine in accessory, the tape deck crackling to life. Metallica fills the air, and Billy hums in appreciation as he recognizes the Ride the Lightning album.

"Sorry, was a bit too quiet for my liking," Eddie says, settling back into his spot beside Billy- close enough to pass the joint, but not close enough to touch.

"No, I like it," Billy replies. "Love Metallica."

Eddie gives him a small half grin, and rummages in a cooler beside him. He pulls out a beer and cracks it open, handing it to Billy, who blinks, surprised, but takes it with a soft murmured "Thanks," and he takes a long quaff. It's cold, and smooth, and tastes even better with the indica coursing through his veins.

He and Eddie sip their beer in silence, listening to the rain and Metallica, watching the world start to darken as the sun the sets behind the clouds.

For the first time, Billy doesn't mind the rain.

[alexihollis]

Paying Your Dues

A short thing I wrote, trying to get a better hold on the dynamics and everything. More stuff to come probably! The brain worms really got a hold on this one lol.

“Swan? That you?” Swan heard Cleon call from the kitchen as she shut the door to the apartment behind her, locking the three dead-bolts and hooking the chain. It had been a few months since the Van Cortland Park meeting, but Cleon still insisted on the higher level of security. 

“Just until the Riffs give the all-clear,” she would say, but…Well, Swan did not have high-hopes that that would ever happen. Luther’s damage ran deep and Rogues kept popping up as new recruits of other gangs in ways that made everyone uneasy. The Orphans alone seemed to take half that the Riffs did not pick up the morning after Cyrus’ death, though Mercy insisted Sully was too dumb to be much of a threat. At least Masai seemed…weirdly fascinated with Cleon in a way that Swan did not want to interrogate too deeply. Or at all. 

“Yeah,” Swan called back as she shrugged out of her winter jacket, hanging it up with the beanie she stole from Cowgirl – who bitched, but had an extra hat anyway and Swan was freezing, winter weather really settling in the week after Thanksgiving. If Cowgirl cared that much, she would cross the street from her, Cochise, and Rembrandt’s apartment and steal it back later. 

Cleon appeared in the hallway, slouching against the wall, arms crossed. “Cool. We need to talk about something.”

That took Swan’s attention away from her boots as she straightened back up to look at Cleon, one boot off and one on. “What’s wrong? Is it Ajax?”

After three months, Ajax finally came home. Not even two weeks out, she was still jumpy. Quiet in an unnerving way. Cleon had yet to send her out on an errand and Swan didn’t know how long Ajax would let that slide. 

“No, no, she’s fine. Or- you know what I mean. Rembrandt came by and stole her earlier. No clue what they’re gonna be up to, but at least she’s out of her bedroom.” Cleon shook her head, “Anyway, no. It’s about Mercy- Nothing’s wrong.”

Swan’s heart started beating again. “For fuck’s sake, Cleon!” She threw a glove at Cleon’s head, that she easily ducked, laughing like an asshole. 

“For the love of God, I got her a bartending job two blocks away, will you chill out about her not being in your sight for two seconds?” Yeah. This had been Swan’s life for the past three months. Because her Warrior sisters were assholes. Cleon pushed off the wall, “Come on. I made coffee, we can talk in the kitchen.”

The mug was warm in Swan’s hands and the coffee even warmer as she took a too large drink, barely missing blistering. It suited the cooler weather.

“So, what do we need to talk about?” Swan asked when it became obvious that Cleon wasn’t going to start. Which was strange, because Cleon was not exactly known for her indecisiveness. 

Cleon sighed heavily before saying, “Have you noticed Mercy doesn’t have any clothes?”

Immediately, Swan’s eyebrows tried to merge with her hairline. “Uh…?”

“Her own clothes,” Cleon said.

And Swan went to disagree. Mercy had her own clothes – her color vest, for one, that she had been beyond excited about when Cleon gave it to her. There was a red flannel that she wore all the time. That she definitely stole from Cowgirl, now that Swan was thinking about it. The t-shirt Mercy was wearing the night of the meeting that somehow survived with minimal staining. Her jeans. Her sneakers and the zip-up hoodie. She wore those clothes a lot, when she wasn’t stealing Swan’s stuff. 

She mostly stole Swan’s stuff. Not that Swan was complaining. It started early on, with Mercy rolling out of bed and snagging one of Swan’s t-shirts while Swan half-heartedly complained about thievery to make Mercy laugh. 

When Mercy started working at the bar, Cochise had leant her some appropriate clothes. A small black dress. The tiniest skirt that Swan had ever seen. A pair of similarly sized shorts. A few black t-shirts. It had mostly surprised Swan how many clothes Cochise had to lend in the first place and it had been weeks now. 

Huh.

That was about the time a thick white envelope was placed on the table in front of Swan. At her confusion, Cleon motioned for Swan to open it. It was filled with cash.

“What is this?” Swan asked.

“Mercy’s dues,” Cleon said. 

Swan flipped through the cash. Did the mental math. “This is at least four times what she should be paying. When did she even start paying dues?”

“I didn’t ask for it,” Cleon said. “She gave it to me last night. I stopped by Jenkins earlier. He said that’s practically all the money she’s made at the bar, tips and paychecks.”

“And what did Mercy say? When she gave you this?”

“That she wanted to pay her dues. Contribute to the Warriors. Said thank you for getting her the job and letting her stay here and food and everything,” Cleon said. “She asked if this covered it and when I said, yes, it more than covered it, she asked me to put whatever was left towards your dues.”

“I don’t pay dues,” Swan said. 

The only ones who really did were members who did above-the-counter work, members who made the bulk of their money outside of the gang, which, technically, would put Mercy in that category, but Cleon usually waited a good six months before even broaching the topic. And even then, there were a lot of other circumstances that surrounded whether someone paid into what was less “dues” and more a communal money pot for rent for the various Warrior apartments, food, and, in certain circumstances, a slightly better lawyer. Which, considering Ajax’s recent run-in, did mean that pot could use a bit of boosting, but they still had a comfortable cushion. While Swan expected Cleon to ask Mercy for dues at some point, it was still early and this amount?

“I know.” Amazing. Swan loved it when Cleon talked in circles. Taking pity on her, Cleon continued. “She said that she wanted to pay back whatever you had paid for her over these few months. Said that she didn’t want to just be A Girlfriend anymore, but a fully-fledged member. Which seemed like a lot of emotion that you are in a better position to help her with while you try to convince her to spend her damn money on herself.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that,” Swan sighed, rubbing a hand down her face as she tried to think of where to even begin with that conversation. 

Because this was going to be about a lot more than money. They had been skirting around this conversation since the moment Mercy handed Swan her Orphans bandana to make the Molotov cocktail. Like when Swan dragged an overly drunk Mercy home from a house party at one of the lower-level Warriors apartment because someone (Vermin, definitely Vermin) told her it was part of the more traditional initiation. When it came to talking about herself, Mercy got cagy. Not many Warriors liked talking about family, Swan steered as far from the subject as she could, but Mercy wouldn’t even give a damn neighborhood.

Girls like Mercy joined the Warriors before, usually young enough that it made Cleon nervous and so jumpy they refused to give a name until they earned their name. They wanted to burn their old lives to ashes and throw them in the ocean off Coney Island. Swan respected that, she all but did it herself, but they always made Cleon nervous. Until recently, Swan didn’t really understand why – they made some of the best soldiers, fighting with everything in them and then some. Swan loved helping them learn to fight.

Swan loved helping Fox learned to fight. 

Then Swan learned what all that desire to prove yourself, to throw yourself into your new life and protect anyone you got close to could lead to. 

Losing Fox nearly killed her. Losing Mercy would finish the job.

“I’ll talk to her,” Swan repeated. 

Cleon smiled. Leaned over and ruffled her hair, which Swan half-heartedly protested. “It’ll be fine. And tell Rembrandt to take her shopping. The poor girl’s too pretty to be stuck in your clothes. Or your taste in clothes.”

“Fuck off, Cleon,” Swan grumbled. 

The next few hours found Swan in her and Mercy’s bedroom. She tried to distract herself by reading. That failed. Turned on the radio. Got sick of the radio. Tried to watch TV in the living room. Got bored of the news that Cleon insisted on watching for whatever reason. In general, she was being ridiculous. 

The hours leading up to a rumble? Swan was calm. Collected. Helping their newer members chill the fuck out and not lose their heads before the fight began. 

Hours leading up to a potentially emotionally charged conversation with her girlfriend, though? That was the time to panic. Perfect sense. One hundred percent logical. 

Swan didn’t hear the door open. 

She barely heard when Mercy said, “Babe, what are you doing?”

Swan turned on her heel, mid-pace to see Mercy looking at her quizzically as she closed the bedroom door behind her. And said the first thing that popped into her head: “You need new clothes.”

Mercy blinked and looked down at herself, then back to Swan. “I thought you liked this skirt.”

It was Cochise’s skirt. Swan loved that skirt. That was not the point. “Sit down.”

Mercy sat down on the very edge of the bed. “Are you just gonna stand there?”

Swan sat next to her, also perched on the edge, and just far enough that they didn’t touch. They rarely sat like that, especially in their room. It felt alien. 

“Is this about me giving my dues to Cleon?” Mercy asked. 

“She didn’t ask you for them. You don’t owe her any,” Swan said.

Mercy sighed. “Look, it isn’t that I’m not grateful, but…I want to contribute. I’m a Warrior. I’m a member just like anyone else.”

“You are a Warrior, this isn’t about that.”

“Then, why is Cleon being so weird about it?” Mercy asked.

“Because you don’t owe dues. Yes, you do have an actual job and you don’t join us on jobs or anything, but Cleon usually gives a six-month grace period to new members before talking about it,” Swan tried to explain.

“Are those other new members usually living in a Warriors funded apartment and eating Warriors funded food?” She cocked an eyebrow in a way that made it seem like she thought she had won the argument.

Unfortunately for Mercy: “Yes. Usually.” 

“What?”

“Cleon has a thing about picking up strays. Remember?” Swan said. Referencing herself, but then immediately: “Not that you’re a stray.”

Mercy laughed. “Well, I did follow you home.”

Swan chuckled with her. “You did in fact do that.”

A short period of silence followed after their laughter subsided. Mercy sighed, deeply. “I just don’t want people thinking I’m sleeping my way through here. Or that I have it easier than anyone else.” She aimed a slight glare at Swan, “You already refuse to put me through initiation properly.”

Oh, for the love of- “You went through more than enough. You have fucking Ajax vouching for you. You don’t have anything more to prove to anyone.” Then, a thought: “Is someone giving you shit?”

Swan could fix that. Easily. 

“No one here, I just-” Mercy let out a frustrated huff. “I’ve done that before. I’ve been that girl. I hated it. It was horrible. I don’t want to feel like that again.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that,” Swan said. “But…you know, treating you like any other Warrior includes not making you pay an absolutely ridiculous amount of dues.”

“All right, all right. Is Cleon giving it back to me or something?” Mercy asked.

Swan gestured over to their dresser. “It’s with the socks.”

“Thank you.”

“I promise people don’t think that about you,” Swan said. “You deserve to have your own things with the money you earned at Jenkins’ bar.” Swan narrowed her eyes slightly at the very familiar red sweater Mercy was wearing. “And I deserve for you to stop stealing my shit.”

“Mm, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mercy scooted back a little further onto the bed, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. 

“Oh, really?”

“Not at all.”

And, really, Swan should have probably thought through the having-an-important-conversation-on-their-bed a bit more, because how else did she think this was going to end? A good while later found them both on their backs, catching their breaths, in considerably less clothing than before. After a moment, Swan pulled their blanket up past their shoulders as Mercy moved onto her side, then tucked herself against Mercy’s back, face nestled in the small of her shoulder. 

“You know, considering the conversation topic, this didn’t really help your argument,” Mercy said. 

Swan rolled her eyes. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Why should I get my own clothes when these seem to be working just fine?”

Swan choked back a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I try.”

…

“Maybe keep the skirt, though.”

“Cochise said she doesn’t want it back anyway.”

[mewhenimanangel]

cherry, eren jaeger

—synopsis. eren confesses to you but instead of letting it break your heart, you choose to be understanding

—chapter 9 ౨ৎ

𝜗𝜚 content!: au-high school, black reader, drunken confessions, self sabotage, mutual friend zone, senior year activities

previous ౨ৎ next ౨ৎ

it seemed like you and eren had an unspoken agreement that you would simply stay friends.

the day after your recital, connie was throwing a little 'kickback' as he called it, that you and all your friends went to.

you spotted eren almost immediately when you got there. he was sitting on some couches with jean, armin, and mikasa. you watched him laugh at something armin said before he took a sip of whatever was in his red solo cup.

he looked over towards the door for a second, doing a double take when he noticed you standing there with lana while connie held her hand.

he smiled and waved you guys over, standing up to hug you before dapping lana and connie up. "i didn't think you would be here tonight" he told you.

"i figured why not make an appearance" you smirked. "hm no more practices right?" and you shook your head no. he grinned before asking you if you wanted a drink and you followed him into the kitchen.

"there's no pink whitney so how about a twisted tea?" he grabbed two cans from a cooler. "sure"

you spent most of the night by eren's side - you sat next to him when the group sat around talking. you teamed up when it was time to play a game of cards, just so there would be enough for everyone.

you even ended up on connie's porch swing together. eren lit up a blunt and the scene felt nostalgic. except this time was different, it was spring now meaning the flora and fauna were thriving and it was warmer out - this time there was a tension between you and eren, one different  from before, and for the wrong reasons.

it seemed like neither of you wanted to bring up what happened two weeks ago but the topic still loomed over your heads.

eren passed the blunt to you and you took a strong inhale, trying your best to relax. eren watched you close your eyes and let the smoke fill the air as you eased back into the chair from the awkward straight up way you were sitting.

in a drunken confession, eren looked down at his pants and told you him and historia hooked up the other night.

your heart sank - you felt like crying, you felt like interrogating, you felt angry.

but you knew this was your fault. you pushed him away and pushed him right back into her arms. there was no way you could be angry at him for going back to her when you’re the one who told him to do exactly that.

you wanted to be understanding, because you knew feeling anything other than that would be irrational. you’re the reason for this, you’re the one who sent him away just when things were getting good, you’re the one who continually sabotages yourself.

“oh..” it was your turn to look away now, fiddling with the fabric of your jeans.

you almost felt bad for him more than you felt bad for yourself. you never wanted to hurt him and yet it seemed like you hurt him the most. you knew how eren felt about historia, he would never go back…unless driven there by something else.

you felt like shit but you swallowed your tears and looked at him. you told him you were sorry about everything and that maybe it was for the best. you were graduating in three weeks and then going off to different colleges so maybe your chapter with him should end here.

he nod his head and understood, though he didn’t say it, that’s not what eren wanted at all. he wanted to be with you. but if what you wanted was to go your separate ways, then he would comply. plus at least you’d stay friends - you and lana had been indoctrinated into the friend group so he knew he would still see you all the time.

he would just have to learn to get over you, and if not he would just have to learn to hide his feelings for you.

ʚɞ

the following saturday was prom night. you wore a long pink dress with a rose on the side of your waist, and a long slit down the left thigh. a pair of gold stilettos were on your feet and your hair was curled with jewels placed on the top of your head.

you spent the night with friends - taking pictures, dancing on the dance floor, complaining that the food that was catered was awful, singing along to the songs, and taking a sip of alcohol someone snuck in before denouncing it out of fear of getting in trouble.

the next week at school was your spirit week, your last one and you indulged in the wacky themes. the friday of that week you completed your senior walk throughout the school’s district. you didn’t care much for the elementary and middle school since you didn’t attend there with the rest of your class.

once the day was over you joined your friends and a few classmates to a park to watch the sunset.

armin laid down a giant blanket on the grass and began unpacking the snacks he had brought for the occasion.

you spent the night taking pictures, reminiscing, and laughing and it made you realize how much you would miss this little group, even if you’d only known them for a few months.

once the sun was down and it was still a little light out you all head down to do some night swimming at the nearby lake. you stripped yourself of your t shirt and jean shorts, bikini underneath before diving into the water with lana.

eren swam over to you and splashed you before you chased him through the water to get him back. he picked you up by the waist and threw you into the water making you laugh.

“i don’t know why they don’t just grow some balls and date already, they obviously like each other” connie said to lana and armin. “yeah it’s obvious alright” armin said.

ʚɞ

you zipped up the back of your white dress before your mom helped you out on your sash and your cords over your black gown. you adjusted the cap on your head as your grandmother came into the room.

“we are going to have such a wonderful dinner tonight to celebrate!” she hugged you. “oh my little fawn, if only your father was here today to see you graduate” she held your arms, comfortingly.

“mommy!” your mom shouted at her. “what i’m not saying anything wrong” she shrugged. “yeah but it’s the wrong time” she shook her head. you just giggled.

your grandmother was right though, you wished so badly he was here today that you woke up crying. he always said when you were younger that he wouldn’t miss this for the world, but now it’s you that misses him.

“it’s okay sweetie, he will be there. i know he’s watching over us from above” your mom rubbed your shoulder and kissed your cheek.

you moved your tassel from right to left before throwing it in the air with everyone else. once it was back in your hand you booked it to where lana was. she began running towards you before slamming into your arms and jumping around. “we out this bitch!!” she squealed. “i can’t believe it!” you hugged her again.

you both went to find kailee and your other friends before lana spot connie and grabbed your head to run towards them.

eren turned around when he heard lana squealing and went to hug you before everyone exchanged hugs and gratitudes.

you went to find your family and your mom immediately squeezed you in her arms before enya joined in on the hug. “does this mean i get your room?” she joked, but you could see the tears welling in her eyes. “absolutely not” you smiled before bringing her in for a hug.

“my sweet girl, ohh my god i can’t believe you’re done! you’re gonna go and be a big girl out in the real world oh my god!” your mom teared up before your grandmother squeezed you tight and gave you flowers.

“you’re going to do amazing things mi nina, don’t let anybody get in your way.” she put a stern finger in your face.

[gloomzombie]

I'll Bury You For This

Pairings: Jeff the Killer X Male Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,554

Chapter Five: The Pros and Cons of Breathing

Ch.1 , Ch.2 , Ch.3 , Ch.4

August 21. 12:34pm.

Gage’s arms around me aren’t enough to pull me out of the blurry and noisy state my mind is in. His lips press against my cheek before he pulls out of the hug. “I’ll see you Monday, then?” He asks, and I nod. Though he’s right here, he sounds so far away. “See you,” I responded. I hesitate for a second before giving him a small kiss. “Bye Gage,” I whisper. His face flushes. “Bye, Y/N.” I get on my bike that was left just outside his door, and take off down the pristine pavement.

The ride home is quick, not only because of the relatively short distance, but also because I’m not paying attention. I got to the house faster than I really wanted to. I’m putting my bike down against the house without really registering it. Only when I’m at the door do I take a second to slow down. I sigh heavily. I don’t want to go. Why did I waste my time with Gage like that? I wish I could’ve stayed. I shake my head and stick my key into the knob, twisting open the door.

When I walk in, John isn’t there. Thank god. I shut the door behind me quietly and make my way down the hallway just as silent. I peek into his room to see him passed out on his bed, snoring. I quickly go into my room, then shut and lock the door. I sit my backpack down next to my bed and lie down in it. Ugh. Going from Gage’s back to this is terrible. I take my phone out and check the time. 12:47pm. I bite my lip. I guess I should start getting ready.

I got up and changed outfits, because for some reason I didn’t bring some for today; this morning I changed into what I wore yesterday, which did not smell good. The stench of cigarettes and beer isn’t exactly pleasant. I slip into some more comfortable pants that I got from the last time I went to Hot Topic, along with a My Chemical Romance shirt I got the same day (with a long sleeve underneath of course). I slide a studded belt through the loops on my pants. I don’t feel like being extra today, so I leave the accessories at that. 

I unzip my backpack and take out my meds along with the water bottle I left in there yesterday. I press the capsule pill to my tongue and swallow it down with gulps of water. I hope I don’t get a headache this time because I never did take one yesterday. I sit back down on my bed. I’ll just listen to music until it’s time to leave, starting with Siouxsie and the Banshees. 

August 21. 1:54pm.

I took the familiar route to my favorite bookstore. I figured I should walk since he usually drives me in his car once we meet up. I’m not entirely sure how that’s gonna go. The last time I was in his car, he made me drive (illegally, I don’t have a license) while he and his ex made out drunkenly in the backseat. All throughout the walk, my mind was swarmed with a buzzing sound. Not literally, but it might as well have been just sound with the way I couldn’t stop fucking thinking.

I’m sweating by the time I reach the store, only slightly, but enough to make me feel disgusting. The lovely breezes at night have been getting cooler, but it has barely dented the warmer weather during the day. I wish I wore a tank top today, but even just the thought of having people stare at my arms and wrists makes my skin crawl. I hate attention, especially the bad kind.

I sigh as I sit down on the sidewalk, beside the door. I watch cars and bikes pass by as I listen to music, waiting for Xander’s car to show up. I hum along to the lyrics of I Will Not Bow by Breaking Benjamin. I will not bow / I will not break / I will shut the world away / I will not fall / I will not fade / I will take your breath away.

I sit up at the sight of his black toyota pulling into the parking spot in front of me. I pause the song and take out my earbuds, putting them back into my pocket. I stand up, brushing off my pants and sliding my phone into my back pocket. I suddenly wished I wore a light jacket so I had something to do with my hands, though that wouldn’t have been great due to the heat. I could’ve worn just the jacket if I had thought about it.

I think he trimmed his hair up, because it looks all choppy, much more so than before. His hair’s been freshly dyed black too, some dye still staining his neck. He walks up to me, his hands shoved into the pockets of his skinny jeans somehow. “Hey Y/N.” He smiles at me and it makes me feel nervous. He’s gonna want to talk to me about whatever it is later it seems.

“Hey Xan.” I respond coolly. I’ve already decided I’m letting him do all the talking until he wants to address the elephant in the room. “Well, let’s go.” he responds after a second of staring at me. Weird. I lead the way inside. “Where do you wanna go?” I ask and turn to look at him. He shrugs. “I dunno. I guess wherever you go the most.” I roll my eyes and walk down the countless bookshelves into many different rooms. 

I can feel his hand touch mine a few times, which makes my eyebrows furrow. I don’t say anything about it, as his touch doesn’t linger, but it’s still really weird. He doesn’t usually do physical affection with me; that’s something he saves for his girlfriends and hookups and crushes, even though that’s not the word he likes to use for them.

We make it to the familiar Y/A + Horror section, a section that I always visit. I tap my finger on my chin as I look down the aisles. I didn’t think about buying any books today, but I probably will- especially since Xander’s paying for lunch. “So, what do you usually get when you come here?” I hear him ask from the front of the area. He’s looking at the Stephen King books, though I doubt he’s gonna buy anything from a bookstore. 

“Whatever’s on my list. I just finished a series, so I don’t have much to really start with now.” I bend down at the knees to look at the bottom of the fantasy shelf. I carefully picked out a book- Realm Breaker by Victoria Aveyard. “You have a list?” I stand up straight and walk down an aisle back to the novels. I picked up one of the books that they stood up straight and examined it- Girl in Pieces by Kathleen Glasgow. I’ve heard really good reviews about it. 

I take the books in my arms, holding them close. “Yeah. How else am I gonna keep track of all the books I’ve read, and all the ones I want to read?” I ask, walking up to where he’s standing. He’s looking at the Twilight books. “Think I’m gonna get one.” He mutters. I stare at him, my eyes widening. “Really?” I ask. “Twilight?”

“Well yeah. Is there something wrong with that?” He gives me a glare. I shake my head. Why is he being so defensive? “Of course not. Just, why Twilight?” I ask, looking not at him, but at the bookshelf. “Because I know you really liked those books, and hated the movies apparently,” He murmurs in the last part. His words rattle in my brain. I don’t understand them. He’s never shown interest in my interests like this. So what changed? Maybe he feels bad about practically leaving me to deal with my shit alone for months straight. But, then again, I know him well enough to know that probably isn’t true. Xander suddenly gaining a conscience? Please.

“Well, yeah. They left out so many important scenes from the books, and oh my god, don’t get me started on how they changed the way Rosalie tells Bella her story in Eclipse.” He laughs. “Guess I’ll have to read the books first then.” I look back at him and he’s already looking at me, a small smile on his lips. My face heats up. “Yeah. You will.”

I shake my head a little and step back. “But you really don’t have to buy one. You can borrow mine. I have the whole set plus Midnight Sun.” I offer. I’ve underlined stuff in the books, but it's just a romance- not anything personal, so I’m really not worried about him reading them. He looks down at the book in his hands. Slowly, he shakes his head. “Nah. I think I want to start collecting books the way you do.” He looks back up at me. “Do you think I should get New Moon too?” 

We make our way through the endless hallways to the front with our books. I placed mine on the checkout counter. “Just these two?” Melissa asks. I still have to thank her for the last time I was here; she rounded my total down because I didn’t bring enough cash. But not while Xander’s here. As I go to speak, he interrupts me. “Four. I’ll be paying,” He places his books beside mine. Melissa nods and starts scanning the books. I glare at him. I can feel my face grow unbearably hot. Why is he paying for me?

“Your total is 48 dollars and 34 cents for two used hardcovers and two new paperbacks. Cash or card?” Melissa smiles at me, then looks at Xander. After he hands her the cash, he takes our books into his arms before I get the chance to take mine. He smiles at me, then leads the way to the door. As soon as the door shuts, I pull my books from his arms into my own. “I can pay for my fucking self, you know.” 

I don’t wait to see his reaction. I step down onto the pavement and stand by his passenger door, waiting for him to unlock it. I stare at my reflection in the glass. I grimace and open the door as soon as I hear it unlock. I slide in and place my books down in my lap before closing the door. I put on my seatbelt and stare at the books, running my hand over the cover of Girl in Pieces. I distract myself by thinking about how different the cover feels than most paperbacks I own. It’s soft somehow; pretty looking and pretty feeling. 

“I didn’t know that’d make you so upset,” Xander speaks through the silence, starting the car. I chew on my bottom lip, tearing the skin. I fight the nerves and look over at him. His eyes are on the road as he pulls out of the parking lot. Have his hands always looked that good? They’re more veiny looking than I remember. He’s probably practicing with his guitar again. 

I sigh. “Sorry for that. There’s a lot on my mind and I-” “No, no. I’m sorry. For assuming you wanted me to pay, and, well…” He trails off, and as I look at his face, I see how he looks different, even there. There’s a softness to his features that wasn’t really there before. He looks somehow different than he did a few months ago.

“Where do you want to eat?” he asks, his fingers tapping the wheel to the beat of the music. I look away. “I don’t know, really. Anything is fine.”

He takes us to the diner we used to go to every other day. I think it makes me emotional, but I can’t really tell if it’s this, or if I was already feeling it. When our food is ready, he takes it in one hand and, weirdly enough, mine in the other. What’s happened to him that he’s wanting so much physical affection from me? When we get in the car, I place my books in the backseat with his so I can hold the food. I lean my head up against the window as he drives silently to the park, with A Day To Remember playing in the background. 

As he drove, I kept my phone by my leg. That’s usually not a great sign, when I don’t use my phone the way I always do. It’s getting bad again, I’m sure. I never realize it until I’m already deep in it.

He parks the car, but sits there for a moment. “Y/N?” he asks. I look over at him. He’s got this sort of pained expression on his face. One I’ve only ever seen once. When his dad cheated on his mom and the yelling, throwing things, and beating started; he’d come sneak into my room through the window I’m not allowed to open. It was the only time I really felt like we could’ve been something more, even though I knew even then it wasn’t happening. 

I’d let him cry into my shirt, clinging onto me as if I was the only thing he needed. And I was, but not in the way I really wanted. He’d talk to me about it through sobs while I rubbed his back, and wiped the tears from his eyes. Those were the moments I really knew I loved him. And even now, some twisted part of me still does. God I can’t think about that anymore, can I? 

“Yeah?” I bite my lip. He turns to meet my stare, and it looks as if he’s about to cry. “Y/N..” He whispers, and his hands move from his lap up to my face. It feels like my throat is closing up. I can’t breathe, so I turn my head away, his hands retreating back. “Let’s go,” I say, opening the car door quickly and sliding out. I shut the door and look around.

This place used to have more woods, but then they started adding to the playground- more climbing rocks, swings, and other weird stuff I can’t put a name to. I start walking to the picnic tables when I hear his door shut. I sit down on one of them, Xander taking a seat in front of me. We take the food out of the bag and start eating in silence. 

I can’t help but think about the way he’s been acting today. It’s so different from how I know him. It’s kind of worrying me. I gaze at him, his attention on his food. I examine his face more. His eyes are sunken, though the lines under his eyes are only slightly noticeable. I look him down and I notice he’s gotten skinnier. Skinnier than usual of course, as he always was twig like. 

His eyes meet mine and my face heats up, my eyes drop down to the fries I haven’t finished. I eat a few more, and after a few seconds, Xander speaks up. “I’m 3 weeks sober, y’know.” I raise my eyebrows and look up at him again. He’s still looking at me, but his facial expression is serious. Of course it is, this is something serious.

“Really? From what?” I ask and immediately regret it. He grimaces and I realize that’s really not something I should ask since there’s so much it could be. “Sorry.” “No, it’s fine.” He sighs, looking back down at his food. “Everything, Y/N. The drugs, the alcohol…the cutting too,” he mutters. He jams a fry harshly into the ketchup dumped onto his hamburger wrapper. “Well, everything but cigarettes. I won’t be able to quit those for a while, or at least not anytime soon.” I nod. “Hey, that’s awesome Xander. Really, I’m proud of you.” For the first time in months, I reached out to touch him, caressing his hand. He looks back up at me, and I can see the tears welling up in his eyes. 

I can’t help but feel like crying too. In the past few days, I’ve been getting more and more prone to it. I usually don’t cry nearly as much as I have this week. More reason to believe it’s getting bad again. Though I guess this is different. Reasonable. My best friend is sober for probably the first time in years. This is the farthest he’s gotten with it; he’s only ever been able to get to one week before he starts with, “Y/N, please let me drink some of your beer. I promise it’ll be just one drink,” or “Pass me the bong, will you? I know, I just couldn’t take it anymore. You understand, don’t you Y/N?” 

He turns his palm upwards, holding my hand in his. “Thanks. That means a lot.” I smile, and he smiles too. A sad smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I pull my hand back, and his smile drops. “Besides that..” He starts, and takes a deep breath. “I wanted to…apologize.” Well, that I did not expect. Hoped for? Yes. Expected? Absolutely not. 

I wait a few seconds before responding. “For…what?” I ask. His fingers tap on the wooden table. “For…well, being an asshole. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out before, or come to school, or-” He inhales sharply, looking anywhere but at me. “Did you not come to school because of..me?” I ask, my jaw dropping a little. I never thought he did that because of ME. 

He nods, still not looking at me. “Not all of it was because of you. There were a lot of reasons. Mainly because of how fucking hard it is to go there and want to stay sober, but it was also because I can’t stand all the attention anymore. It was because I didn’t want to see my shit ton of exes again or..” he sighs before looking at me, finally. “I didn’t want to see you because looking at you made me feel...bad.” 

I blink. How do I feel about this new information? How am I supposed to feel about it? I chew on my lip as I process what he’s just said. He doesn’t like all those girls that follow him around? All the girls that surround him constantly? And looking at me makes him feel bad? “Why?” I ask. I have to know. 

He hesitates, his fingers scratching at the table. “Uh..Well…” He groans, moving his hands up to cover his face. He mutters something into his hands, but I can’t understand it. “What?” He slams his hands down on the table and I flinch. “Because I can’t stand to look at you when you don’t look at me.” My brows furrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stares at me, his deep brown eyes piercing into mine. Suddenly, his hands are cupping my face the way they did in the car. In a quick motion, he pulls my head forward and his lips meet mine. I’m so taken off guard by this that I sit still for a bit. What the fuck? I push him away from me, swing my legs over the bench and stand up quickly. “What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I’m screaming at him and I don’t even care. “Who the hell do you think you are doing that to me?” I’m breathing in and out so harshly, it feels like my lungs are on fire. 

“Y/N-” “Kiss my ass, Xander. I loved you. I loved you for so many fucking years. And when I’m finally, FINALLY, getting over your ass you go and do this? And I’m supposed to just go along with it?” My face feels so wet; my throat feels like it’s closing up and I’m choking on the words that spit out of my mouth.

I start to laugh, but it sounds and feels so wrong with all the crying mixed with it. “What the hell is wrong with you, Xander? And I started to believe you were getting your shit together,” I pick up my trash and move as fast as I can to the nearest trash can. The sound of crunching leaves follows me. “Y/N please,” He whines as I throw out my trash. I spin on my heels to face him. I don’t think twice about it; I punch him in the face as hard as I can. 

He’s shocked, flinching away from me as soon as my fist pulls back. His nose is bleeding, and I’m sure it feels even worse with the tears streaming down his face. “I loved you too. I just didn’t realize it,” He’s sobbing; there’s so many cracks in his voice I barely understand what he’s saying. “Just leave me alone, Xander.” My voice is just as pitiful sounding as his. He pleads with me more, begging me not to leave. I don’t care. I don't care. I take off, sprinting out of the park as fast as my feet will let me.

[edupunkn00b]

Roomies, Ch. 7: Realizations

Prev - Realizations - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 6460 (My hand slipped) - Rated: T - CW: Parents being assholes (but also parents being awesome); uh, swearing; kissing - Written for @intrualityweek 2024: Realization

When everything comes to light.

Despite rushing and more than a little haphazard packing, they didn’t quite finish gathering up Patton’s stuff before Ro and Logan had already bundled into the Reyes’ truck. Accustomed to driving around half the cast of whichever play Ro was in or transporting giant sculptures from the school and out to community gallery showings for Re, the Reyes’ drove an impossibly large SUV. With all the seats up, it seated eight.

For this trip, though, to make room for all their bags—and a small cooler of snacks and drinks for the long ride—Mr. Reyes had needed to drop one seat in each row.

When they got downstairs, Ro and Logan were happily squished together in the middle row, leaving two seats for Re and Patton in the back.

“It’ll be cozy,” Re smiled, a little nervously, maybe. Was he afraid Patton got car sick?

“Are you sure—” Patton looked back over his shoulder and up at the dorms. He couldn’t see their window from here, but maybe seeing the truck so full might’ve changed their minds. “I’m gonna squish you.”

“No you won’t,” he said and opened the car door. When Patton got closer, he bent his head and whispered near his ear. “I hate riding alone in the back.”

His voice was light, like he was about to add a punchline but his eyes were serious and Patton whispered back, “Really?”

“Really, really,” he said, grinning when Patton clambered inside and buckled his seat belt. “See?” Re said once he’d folded himself into his own seat. “We fit just right.”

Re was right, the back row was cozy, but not cozy the way a too-tiny studio was called ‘cozy.’ Comfortable cozy. A mug of hot cocoa in the dining hall and listening to Re talk about his newest project kind of cozy. Hiding together in the utility closet across the hall from Ro and Logan’s dorm room during the first water balloon incident kind of cozy. 

With a bag on one side and Re on his other, Patton felt hugged in the best of ways.

He nodded. Pressed up against his, Re’s leg was warm, even through their clothes, a very much appreciated warmth when he remembered how the Reyes’ liked to keep the car cool on long drives to make sure whichever one of them was driving stayed alert. As the car drove out past the college gates and out onto the highway, Logan unzipped the bag next to him and pulled out a small throw blanket.

Re shivered next to him and Patton looked at the bags surrounding them. “Hey, my sweatshirt’s near the top,” Patton murmured to Re, twisting over the back of the seat to reach his bigger bag. “Lemme get it.”

“Oh, sure, yeah,” he said, doing his best to move out of the way. He chuckled when the sweatshirt caught on his head when Patton retrieved it, knocking his hair in his eyes.

“Sorry,” Patton laughed, helping right his curls in the dim light before unzipping the oversized hoodie.

Re blinked at him when he covered both of them with the plush fleece. “You don’t mind?”

“‘Course not. Oh—unless you mind?” Patton added, eyes wide. It was dark outside and hard to read his expression. Was Re just trying to be polite?

“Never,” he grinned, teeth flashing under a passing streetlight. He chuckled as he helped cover their laps with the hoodie then sat back with a sigh. “We’ll be warmer together.”

~

It was after midnight by the time they turned off the highway and down into the local streets. Most houses were dark, with only a few whose Christmas lights hadn’t yet been turned off for the night. It felt weird to be back, a queasy nostalgia for a neighborhood Patton didn’t think he’d see this Christmas. Or ever?

For not the first time, Patton was grateful his parents lived deeper into the cul-de-sac than Re and Ro did. This time, though, instead of the thrill of a glimpse of the Reyes’ house on his way back home, he was relieved it meant the Reyes’ likely wouldn’t need to drive past his parents’ house on the way in. And likely spot their car in the driveway.

Mrs. Reyes eased the car to a stop and put it into park. “We’re home, niños,” she said quietly, chuckling when she looked back at them through the rear-view mirror.

All three Reyes men were asleep.

“Nothing to do but love them,” she said, shaking her head with a smile. “Lindo,” she murmured, touching Mr. Reyes’ shoulder. [ ‘Cutie,’ ] “Corazoncito, we’re here,” she said when he didn’t budge. Patton didn’t know that word but she’d said it before. He could ask Re later. Whatever it meant, it seemed to work because Mr. Reyes opened his eyes with a little groan and climbed out of the car.

Half-listening to Logan’s sleepy attempt to wake Ro, Patton brushed Re’s arm. “Hey, Re,” he murmured. “It’s time to get out of the car,” he added, a little guilty for waking him at all. Deeply asleep, head tucked between the headrest and one of Patton’s bags, Re’s eyes and mouth were completely relaxed. “Re?” he said again, giving his arm a little shake. 

“Mm-hm,” he said, nodding with his eyes still closed. Mumbling something Patton couldn’t understand, Re shifted closer and curled one arm around him, head rested on his shoulder. Re’s hair tickled his nose, soft against his cheek. It still smelled faintly of the hair dye they’d picked out together the week before.

Even in sleep, Re’s grip around his middle was strong and secure, a firm but not unwelcome hug. Smiling in the still dim back seat, Patton carefully laid his arm over Re’s and gave it a little pat.

The car went quiet. Patton didn’t move, didn’t look up. The spell was broken a moment later when Ro reached over the middle seat and shook Re’s shoulder. “Dude, wake up,” he said. “You’re laying all over Pat.”

“Wha—” he jerked awake, looking first at his brother and then at Patton, eyes wide. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry,” he said. 

“It’s okay,” Patton tried to smile, bubbles popping in his stomach. He probably shouldn’t’ve liked it as much as he did. Re hadn’t meant to hug him in his sleep. He was… asleep, after all.

“Pendejo,” Ro muttered under his breath, too quiet for their parents to hear. Re looked away, unbuckling and climbing out of the car before Patton could ask him what it meant.

His confusion must have shown because Logan whispered as he got out, pulling a bag along with him. “It means ‘creep,’” he explained. “Letch.”

“Ro, he wasn’t—” Patton called after him but he didn’t stop, just picked up two of the larger bags and kept going. Patton clambered out of the car, dragging the bag next to him. Laden with bags, the Reyes’ and RoLo headed inside the house. Re was at the trunk, taking out the remaining bags and setting them down on the floor of the garage.

He didn’t say anything at first when Patton joined him, just pulled out another bag, grunting when the strap snagged on a hook in the back. Patton reached in to help free it and Re gave him a weak smile. “Thanks, Pattycake. I…” He shook his head, still not quite looking directly at him. “I didn’t mean to… I mean I wasn’t trying to…”

Patton reached for the bag, covering his hand. “I didn’t mind, Re,” he whispered back. “It was…” He took a deep breath then looked up to meet his eyes. “It was kinda nice, actually. I liked it.”

“Really?” A smile tugged up one corner of Re’s mouth. Gaze still fuzzy with sleep, his eyes practically twinkled in the low light. 

Patton nodded. “Really, really,” he grinned and hooked the bag over his shoulder.

~

The rich scents of coffee and chilis fried in butter greeted Remus when he woke the next morning. “‘Morning, Patty—“ he mumbled, rolling over to face his own closet in his own quiet room back home. 

But Pat wasn't there. Shaking the last of his dreams from his head, he stretched and shoved aside his blankets. No, Pat wasn't in his room, but he was just down the hall. He pulled on the first T-shirt he found, brushed his teeth and took his meds, then rushed out of his room.

He lingered in the hall, listening to Pat’s muffled laughter dancing up the stairs. Sounded like Ro was already up, too.

Early in the morning after their 13th birthday sleepover, Ro’s voice was the first thing Remus heard. Well, his braggadocious brother was the second voice he’d heard that morning. He’d been woken by Patton’s stifled laughter outside his door as he and Ro had whispered in the hall on their way downstairs. Now Ro boomed up from the kitchen. “So we were at two minutes to curtain and the props master still couldn’t find my goblet~” Remus snickered to himself when Ro’s voice cracked at the end. Puberty’s a bitch, huh, Ro-Bro? Ro cleared his throat and Patton’s voice tittered, “And then what did you do?” “Well—” Standing on the upstairs landing, Remus didn’t have to see his brother to imagine him standing tall, shoulders back and a hand pressed regally to his chest. “I had no choice! I had to go on stage without it.” “Oh!” Patton gasped. He would be looking up at Ro, eyes big and round, mouth drawn into a soft little O-shape. Or maybe he’d covered his mouth entirely, ready to laugh at Ro’s wind-up. “But it was the grail!” he said. “I know,” Ro intoned, deathly serious. Remus rolled his eyes and ran down the stairs, only half listening. “I held my right hand upstage for most of the scene and then at the very last minute—” “Good morning!” Remus cried, bounding into the kitchen. “Re! You ruined my story!” His brother whined, stomping his foot. Smile gone, Patton slid to one side, keeping Ro between Remus and himself. “Morning, Remus,” he said quietly to the floor. “Um, would you like some sofrito and eggs?” he asked, pointing to the big skillet at the back of the stove. “There’s plenty.”  “Pattington, you needn’t bother— “Nah, just coffee’s good for me.” Reaching for the pot and his favorite mug, Remus interrupted whatever snide remark his brother hoped to make. “I can’t believe he drinks that sludge,” Ro complained under his breath to Patton before turning back to him. “You’ll stunt your growth that way, you know.” Remus shrugged. “Still taller than you, little bro,” he cackled, sipping to see if it was hot enough. Nodding to himself, he opened the fridge and rooted around for an open can of condensed milk. “And wouldn’t Mamí just love to hear you call her café con leche ‘sludge.”” “You wouldn’t dare! And I am the elder brother!” Ro stomped his foot again. “By two hours,” Remus laughed. “You sure as fuck act like it, too.”

Raking his hands through his hair, Remus shook away the memory. He closed his eyes and focused on Pat’s sweet smile last night when they’d finally gotten all the bags inside and the guest bed made up and they’d said good night, promising each other breakfast in the morning. Everything was different now. Wasn’t it? 

Pushing down the butterflies in his stomach, he fluffed up his hair then dashed down the stairs three at a time.

“Gooood morning,” he called, bounding around the corner. He stopped short when he found the person making Pat laugh in the kitchen hadn’t been Ro.

But Mamí.

“Good morning, Re!” Pat grinned at him from the other side of the stove where he was beating eggs in Mamí’s big steel bowl. Sunlight streamed in from the kitchen window, setting his curls ablaze with threads of gold and copper and platinum. “Oh, no,” he said over his shoulder, pouring in the egg mixture at Mamí’s prodding. The eggs sizzled with the chilis and tomatoes and a rush of yummy steam curled up toward the ceiling. “Did we wake you?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head and stepping into the kitchen. He bent to accept a kiss on the cheek from his mother, watching Pat shake the big skillet over the burner.

“How did you sleep, mijo?” Mamí peered into his eyes, a quick press of the back of her hand to his forehead another tell that his thoughts had subtitles again.

“Really good,” he said, smiling down at her before glancing at Pat scrambling the eggs in their pan. “Hungry, I think.”

Pat laughed, “You’ve come to the right place, then. Your mom’s been cooking up a feast this morning.”

Mamí hummed, giving him a little squeeze before moving to the percolator bubbling at the back of the stove. “This is almost all Solecito’s work,” she demurred, passing Remus the coffee pot. “He really knows his way around the kitchen.”

Blushing, Pat looked down with a little shrug. “I like to cook. I’ve missed it,” he added after a moment.

“Not much of a chance to cook at university, is there?” Mamí said. “It will be good to be home for a while, ¿verdad?” she asked, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, turning as he piled the eggs onto a waiting platter. Profile backlit and his head bowed, Remus nearly missed the way Pat’s smile evaporated as he scraped the pan. 

He stepped closer, then Mamí tapped the hand holding the coffee pot. Remus blinked. “I’m going to wake Papí,” she said. “So we can get to the grocery store before it gets too crowded.” She raised her eyebrows and added quietly, “Cuida a tu invitado.” [ ‘Take care of your guest.’ ]

“Si, Mamí,” he murmured and kissed her cheek before turning to Pat. “Hey, Pattycake. Want some coffee that’ll put the dining hall’s to shame?”

Pat turned and met his eyes, and Remus warmed all the way to his toes at the return of that perfect little smile. “I’d love some!”

~

“Please, Re?” Pat looked up at him, the wetness in his eyes nearly making him back down. “You go unpack in your room while I finish washing up. I’ve got this,” he insisted, giving his arm a squeeze. Remus could take his hand right now, pull him into a hug and just make him take a break. “It’s the least I can do.”

Pat's soft fingers brushed over his as he took the stack of dishes from his hands. “No, the least you can do is go take a nap upstairs like RoLo.”

His blush could set off a fire alarm. “I don’t think they’re sleeping upstairs,” Pat whispered conspiratorially. He shrugged, more embarrassed than jealous and Re had to keep his hands shoved in his pockets to resist the urge to hug him.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he chuckled, looking up at the ceiling. Thank fuck for good sound insulation. “All the more reason to let me help you down here, yeah?” he said, bumping Pat’s shoulder.

“Alright,” he conceded before flashing him a grin. “I’ll wash, you dry?” Pat jerked his head toward the tall cabinets. “You’ve got better reach, anyway.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” Remus grinned and picked up a towel.

~

Dishes washed and put away, Patton leaned back against the counter, looking around the Reyes’ kitchen. The PTSA calendar had been replaced with a print out of the college’s semester schedule. Patton smiled. That, and a class schedule for salsa lessons at the studio downtown. Everything else, though? 

The whole house had hardly changed since the last he’d been there, a couple days after graduation. One last sleepover at Ro’s house before his summer classes started, one last hurrah before Pat left for camp. One last bit of his old life before everything happened.

“Hey, Pattycake.” Re crooned, sliding along the counter to stand beside him. “Where’d you go?” Patton realized he’d crossed his arms over his belly, pressing away the dull ache he’d had since he first woken. Re looked down at him, big green eyes soft and concerned. One hand gripped the counter just next to him and Patton had the wild urge to grab it and wrap his arm around him the way he had in the car.

Patton smiled up at him, mostly real. “Distracted, sorry. Maybe I’m just a little tired?”

“It’s probably safe to head upstairs for an actual nap if you want,” Re shrugged. 

He looked up at the stairs. The guest room was nice—really nice, with a big double bed and fluffy comforters. But it was… Patton looked up at Re. It felt weird to sleep without someone else in the room now. Without Re in the room. 

Re was still watching him like he could read every thought as he had, because he suddenly smiled. “Or we could chill out together on the couch? Put on something brainless and veg?”

The tight band wrapped around Patton’s chest loosened and he nodded. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Smiling, Re bowed like he had that first night in the dorms, one arm swung wide. “After yooooou,” he said, voice dropping as he bent all the way over until his hair almost touched the floor.

“Nooooo, yooooooou,” Patton said, laughing.

~

Rain clouds darkened Pat’s eyes, even as a sweet giggle spilled out at his performance. Pat was trying so hard to act like he wasn’t hurt his parents couldn’t fucking be bothered to make a home for him over break—over both breaks, Remus thought with a sinking feeling in his gut. He’d been so fucked up last month, he’d just accepted that Pat’s parents really had chosen a cruise over their own son.

He followed Pat’s gaze as they entered the living room, passing the wall covered in Mamí’s favorite photographs. Some were ancient, tiny black and white photos now with sepia edges, stowed away in suitcases for decades. Some were from last year’s prom. Pat paused in front of the one of him and Ro when they were just kids. Standing side-by-side at the beach, missing front teeth and all. Mamí sat between them, hugging both of them in front of a giant sand castle they’d built together. It was taller than each of them, with the final spires completed with Re perched on Ro’s shoulders. Papí’d snapped it right before Ro chased him into a wave.  

Pat’s eyes were wet when he looked up at him. “Your parents love you so much,” he whispered. “You’re so lucky.” 

“Pattycake?” A tear slid down his cheek and Remus caught it with his thumb, brushing it away before catching another. Closing his eyes, Pat covered his hand and pressed it to his cheek. “Pattycake, what’s going on?”

Eyes down on the floor, Pat moved closer. “I… I need to tell you something,” he said, voice so, so small. “I—My parents—” 

He jumped when the garage squealed open. “¡Niños!”  Papí called inside. 

“Fuck,” Remus muttered when he heard the door upstairs. 

“¡Niños! Come and help with the bags, please!”

Straightening, Pat scrubbed at his eyes. “We should go help,” he said, glancing up at him with wide, scared eyes. Chin puckered, his lips trembled before he looked back down at his toes. What the fuck did his parents do?

“Pattycake, no.” Fuck it. He grabbed Pat’s hand and cradled it between his, tracing the squishy peaks and valleys of his knuckles. Somehow Pat didn’t pull away so Re drew closer and whispered, “Let Ro pull his weight, you’re—”

But Pat shook his head firmly, tugging him closer to the garage door. Only then did he loosen his grip and wipe away the last of his tears.

Giving in, Remus leaned close just as RoLo bounded down the stairs. “Later?” he whispered.

Nodding, Pat swallowed hard before whispering. “Later.” He pulled open the door and led them out to the garage. “I promise.”

~

The Reyes were quieter than usual as they all worked to unpack the car. Looking at the bags and bags of groceries and the long, curled receipt Mrs. Reyes shoved in the recycling bin with a little frown, Patton imagined whatever this all must’ve cost would put anyone in a bad mood. Mr. Reyes squeezed his shoulder as he lugged three of the last bags, lips thin as he nodded. “Gracías,” he murmured and closed the trunk, waiting to see the dome light click off.

“Happy to help,” Patton said quickly, looking down at the bags in his hands. At least some of the extra food they’d bought had probably been with him in mind, the extra mouth to feed they’d taken on—unknowingly—for the next two weeks. Maybe he could convince them to lend him their car and he could make a grocery run when it became clear his parents were never going to show up.

A touch of his guilt allayed with his new plan, Patton set the last bags on the counter and joined Re. He’d already put away most of the groceries in the kitchen while Ro and Logan tackled the cold bags out in the garage freezer, laughing when Logan referred to it as ‘applied Tetris.’

“Solecito,” Mrs. Reyes called to him from atop a step stool next to the stove. She shook an opened box of baking powder as she stepped down. “Will you check to see we have another of these in the bags? I thought we’d bake cookies today.” Her gaze lingered on his face, like she was looking for something besides just if he thought she’d bought what they needed.

“Oh! What kind would you like to make? Can I help?” He swallowed hard when he pulled out the big ten-pound bag of flour. He and his mom baked together every year for the neighborhood cookie exchange. He wondered what she baked without him this year. Carefully setting down the bag and dusting off his hands, he looked up and met Mrs. Reyes’ watchful eyes as she approached.

“¡Sin duba!” she said, smiling. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without your snickerdoodles, Solecito.” She curled one arm around his back and squeezed.

“Yeah, they’re the best!” Re grinned, taking two giant Costco-sized cans of condensed milk from the last bag and sliding them onto a high shelf in the pantry. “Especially Ro’s secret stash,” he stage-whispered with a glance at his brother to see that he heard as they came in from the garage.

“Ah!” Hand pressed to his chest and mouth agape, Ro gasped at his brother. The lump in Patton’s throat softened just a bit. “You stole the cookies Pat made especially for me?”

“Damn right I did,” Re cackled, winking at Patton when he let out a broken laugh. “And they were absolutely scrumptious, too.”

“And you laugh!” Ro turned to Pat now, unable to hold back his own smile. “The absolute betrayal!”

Patton laughed again when Ro flung his arm over his eyes and swooned, falling into Logan’s waiting arms. “Don’t worry, I’ll make a double batch for each of you, all of you,” he added, grinning at Logan. “If—” His smile faltered and he looked back at Mrs. Reyes. “Oh, only if that’s okay with you. I—It—it’s your kitchen.”

“Ai, of course, Solecito!” she smiled and ruffled his hair. She used to call him that all the time when he was little and then she’d stopped sometime around high school. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed it until she’d started saying it again in their dorm room. “Why don’t you start a batch now? You can keep me company while I start the masa.” 

Mr. Reyes gripped his sons’ shoulders. “And you three,” he grinned as he included Logan, a wide smile reminiscent of both Ro’s and Re’s. “Come help me bring up the big leaf and some extra chairs from the basement.”

Patton looked through the little cutaway out at the Reyes’ dining room and the mahogany dining table that perfectly seated five. Tears stung his eyes. They wouldn’t need the extra space if he weren’t there.

“Go on, we need the room to bake,” Linda shooed the rest of them toward the hallway. “You, too, Garrochón, I’ve got all the help I need right now with Solecito here.” She wrapped a warm, soft arm around Patton’s shoulders and the burning in his eyes only grew. “Later you’ll help me wrap the tamales.”

It was only then Patton looked up and saw Re hadn’t followed his father downstairs. Instead he’d stepped into the kitchen and was watching him, gnawing the edge of his mustache with a wrinkle between his brows.

“Confía, mijo,” she whispered and, after a long moment, Re nodded and flashed Patton a grin.

“Whaddya say about sneaking in some cayenne into some Ro’s batch?” he said none-too-quietly.

“I heard that!” Ro called from the staircase.

“You were supposed to,” Re laughed back, eyes never straying from his. “You’ll come find me when you need a taste tester, yeah?” he said to Patton, quieter. 

“You really thought last year’s cookies were ‘delectable?’” 

“Of course,” he grinned, backing into the hallway. ”Why do you think I steal Ro’s cookies every year?” he added in a whisper before winking and heading down the stairs.

“Payaso,” Mrs. Reyes muttered with a laugh, shaking her head with a proud smile.

“Love you, too, Mamí,” Re laughed, then the door to the basement closed and the house grew quiet again.

While Mrs. Reyes took out bowls and measuring cups, Patton quickly cleared the rest of the counter, folding bags to put back in the car for next time. She hummed tunelessly, like she was thinking. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke.

“We bumped into your mother at the store today.”

Grateful his back was to her, Patton tried to still his shaking hands. “O—oh?” He’d tried to sound conversational, but his voice shook and cracked. What else could he say?

When Mrs. Reyes remained silent, Patton nodded and continued to fold the stack of grocery bags. He had enough money in his account to get back to campus if he had to. And the room was still stocked from what he’d expected would be a two week break there. He might have a bit of a wait with the holiday Greyhound schedule and he’d need to get off the local bus early. With the road work it wouldn’t go all the way onto campus. He’d figure it out once he got up there. It was all totally doable, he nodded to himself. Totally doable. 

She still didn’t speak, just waited for Patton to explain. Explain why he’d lied. Explain what the hell he was doing in their house.  “Wha—what did she tell you?” he asked, playing dumb like the coward he was.

Mrs. Reyes moved closer and laid a soft hand on his shoulder. “Everything.”

Finally he turned to face her. Her eyes had grown just as watery as his. “Ai, pobrecito,” she whispered and opened her arms. Patton fell into her hug, a small sob escaping his lips. She held him close, her shirt smelling like sofrito and the same flowery perfume she’d worn for as long as Patton could remember. Tears forced their way out past screwed shut eyes and he cried, hiding his face against her shoulder.

She never let go. Simply rocked him, stroking back his hair and making little shushing sounds. When his tears slowed, she whispered, “Solecito, why didn’t you tell anyone?” 

“I…” He let out a shuddering breath. I was going to. “I was okay,” he said instead. “I was lucky. I wasn’t like Logan, I had a lot of my stuff, and a job and—”

“No, that’s fine, Ro Bro,” Re’s voice burst out as the basement door opened. “You just keep reliving your glory days with Lo Lo down there, I’ll bring up—Pattycake?” Soft, worried, so unlike his previous snark for his brother.

“Ven,” Mrs. Reyes’ moved one hand from his back, beckoning Re closer. “But shut the door,” she murmured.

Re put down the chair he’d carried up and followed her instructions. He drew close and a warm, strong hand curled around his shoulder. Patton looked up and Re brushed back his hair from his eyes. “Is later now?”

“Why don’t you two talk?” Mrs. Reyes suggested, turning him to face Re as she let go. Patton wrapped his arms around his belly, already missing the warmth of her hold. “Can I tell the boys downstairs?” she asked him and he nodded quickly, relief flooding his veins.

He didn’t want to see their faces when they heard. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, throat still too tight for anything louder.

Re didn’t move until the basement door opened and closed again. “Pattycake?” he said again, hands twitching at his sides. “Can I hug you?”

Patton couldn’t look up, just nodded, melting into his embrace as Re wrapped strong arms around him. He finally broke when Re reached up and stroked his hair. “I’ve been lying to you,” he choked out, face tucked against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Re hummed, rubbing his back. “What about Pattycake?”

“My parents aren’t…” The web of half-truths and outright lies tangled in his throat and he hardly knew where to begin. “They’re not out of town. That’s not why they didn’t pick me up.”

“Did you kill ‘em?”

Re almost sounded serious and a wet laugh pushed its way up Patton’s throat as he peered up into bright green eyes, soft with worry even as a wild smile stretched across his face. Patton shook his head.

“Oh, well if you had,” Re met his eyes, jaw set. “You know I’d help you bury the bodies, right?” Patton was pretty sure he meant it, too. Arms curled tightly around him, Re had lost his grin but his gaze was still soft. Pat couldn’t remember ever seeing him look at anybody else like that. “What’d they do, Pattycake?” he murmured.

“They don’t want me,” Patton blurted out. “I…” He sucked in another breath when his throat closed up and after a moment tried again. “My parents aren’t like yours. I knew that,” he said, nodding. “I just… I just thought they just needed time, you know?” 

Understanding bloomed in Re’s eyes and Patton continued.

“I waited until I was at camp to tell them,” he whispered with a shrug. “To come out. Let them think about it, let them see how everyone at camp was supportive and—” His voice broke and Re pulled him close again, fingers carding through his hair. “I thought when I got back they’d be ready to talk about it.”

Re’s voice rumbled in his chest. “What’d they do, Pattycake?” he asked again.

“They said I wasn’t their son anymore. They reported my car stolen, cops came to camp and towed it ‘cause the title’s in their name.” Once he started, the words spilled out. “They bricked my phone, told Camp to take them off my emergency contacts, said they’d—” 

Re growled and held him tighter. 

“They said they’d call the cops if I ever went back home. That it wasn’t my home anymore.”

Re curled around him, cheek rubbing against the top of his head. “They’re right,” he whispered. 

Patton held his breath, hope and fear warring in his chest. 

“This is your home right here,” he said, long arms still wrapped around him as he pulled back just enough so their eyes could meet. Re smiled. “If you want it to be.”

Epilogue

Patton only saw his parents once that winter break, walking with Mrs. Reyes to deliver their cookies for the neighborhood cookie exchange. It was cold out, with an icy rain just shy of snow as they trudged through winding streets. Patton was kept warm by her proud smile as they handed over a double batch of espejos and snickerdoodles they’d baked together. 

She didn’t even slow when they neared Patton’s old house, sucking her teeth and muttering, “Deja que Dios los perdone,” as they passed. Only one other house wouldn’t answer the door when they knocked and Mrs. Reyes shrugged with a wide smile that reminded Patton of Re as she stepped off the porch with him. “More cookies for us, then,” she said, handing the paper box to him to carry with the other cookies and treats they’d been given by the other houses.

Patton’s parents walked together on the other side of the street, pretending not to see them.  They walked up to the Greyson’s house, stopping when the porch light clicked off on their approach. Patton hitched his bag up on his shoulder, keeping the waterproof flap shut. 

The Greysons had given him and Mrs. Reyes two boxes of cookies in the exchange. 

Watching from the corner of his eye, Patton saw the next house was the same. His parents knocked and rang the bell, and though two cars sat in the driveway, Christmas lights twinkling brightly in the lit windows, no-one answered. Mrs. Reyes took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Keep going?” she asked.

He nodded. “We’ve got more cookies to deliver.”

~

Christmas Eve, home again after midnight mass, after all the ‘good night’s were done, Mr. and Mrs. Reyes, then finally even Ro and Logan had headed off to bed. Pat sat across the kitchen table from him, each nursing their own hot chocolates. Without the draw of morning classes, neither of their sleep schedules were where they should be, and getting back into the right routine would be a bitch. But for now, Remus treasured the quiet time with Pat.

They both drank slowly, like a reverse race to see who could finish their mugs last. Not the Remus minded. It was getting harder and harder to fall asleep in the room by himself and as good as it felt to be home, he’d found himself counting the days until they got back to their dorm room and he could fall asleep listening to Pat breathe.

Pat yawned but shook his head, eyes watching the stairs like they might slither over and bite him. “I don’t wanna go to bed,” he blurted out, blinking in surprise at his own words. 

Remus grinned. Maybe Pat was having the same problem he was.

“Hey,” he whispered and Pat looked up, a sleepy smile curling up his lips. “We could crash in the living room, say we were waiting for Santa or some shit.”

Giggling, Pat nodded. “Okay.” Taking his hand, another bubble of laughter burst out from his chest and Pat led the way to the big couch, stopping only when he passed under one of the little sprigs of mistletoe Ro had been putting up around the house all week.

Remus’ laughter fizzled out, eyes up at the little green and white bundle tied with a bright red bow. “Look out, Pattycake,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “If you stop here, somebody might try to kiss you.”

Bottom lip caught between his teeth, Pat smiled up at him. “Somebody might,” he said, nodding. 

Remus’ throat went dry when Pat stepped closer, hands reaching up and resting on his shoulders. Distantly, he heard a door upstairs open and close, but then Pat pushed up onto his tiptoes and grinned. Automatically, Remus’ arms circled Pat’s back, steadying him.

Pat tugged him closer. “Unless I kiss somebody fir—”

“Remus!” Ro hissed from the hallway. 

He and Pat whipped around, one arm still curled around his waist. Ro glared at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“Ah, Roman—” Logan began, gripping his shoulder.

“No!” Ro shrugged him off. “I will not simply stand by while my lecherous brother takes advantage of—”

“Roman!” Pat grabbed Remus’ hand and slid between them, staring up at Ro.

Warmth shot up Remus’ arm and he shrugged, giving Pat’s hand a little squeeze. Pat squeezed back. “At least I’m not the one who spent the last week hanging these damn things all over the house just so I’d have an excuse to make out with my boyfriend!”

Red splotches spread over Ro’s face and he stabbed a finger at him. “No, but you are the one who lured poor Patton over here to try to mack on him!” Ro stepped closer, talking over Patton’s head. “And you are the one who draped your body all over his in the car on the way back home! He’s been through enough and—”

“Roman, stop it!” Pat snapped in an angry whisper. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want to kiss him?”

Ro’s mouth hung open and he looked back at Pat with giant eyes. A dead fish on a slab.

“Come on, Roman,” Logan murmured, tugging him back toward the stairs. He flashed Remus a tiny smile, nodding approvingly before drawing Ro closer. “Let’s give them their privacy. You can apologize in the morning.”

“But, mi amor,  I—”

Their voices faded as they walked upstairs but they both caught Lo’s insistent repetition. “You can apologize in the morning.” 

Remus relished Pat’s chuckle as he turned to face him again. They both looked up. They’d moved and the mistletoe was no longer above their heads. He shrugged, working to keep the disappointment from his voice, “They’re all over the place, we’ll—”

Pat cut him off, pulling him down and pressing their lips together. He tasted like chocolate and spice, a hint of peppermint. His lips were as soft as Remus had always imagined they’d be and he had to fight the impulse to chase them when he broke away with a sweet laugh. “I hope that’s okay,” he whispered, cheeks pink. “I didn’t ask.”

“More than okay,” Remus nodded, tracing his thumb over Pat’s bottom lip. “I… You…” He swallowed hard. “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about doing that.”

Pat’s smile put the Christmas tree lights to shame. “So I’m really not just your brother’s dorky friend from high school?”

“Uh-uh,” Remus shook his head, drawing closer. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he curled one arm around Pat’s back, the other hand cupped his cheek. “I’ll fuck up anyone who ever made you think were.” Remus hovered there, Pat’s breath warm against his cheek and his neck.

Pat was the one who closed the distance and kissed him again.

Remus chuckled against his lips. “And I’m not just your best friend’s creepy evil twin?”

“No.” Pat shook his head before kissing him again. Slower, this time, he parted his lips, giving him just a taste before pulling back again. 

Dizzy, Remus’ blood roared in his ears and he could never have imagined Pat’s next words.

Blushing, he whispered, “And I’ll fuck up anyone who ever made you think you were.”

[lou-struck]

Sick Days With You

Meguru Bachira- sick fic

Prompt: 🤧🤒 + cuddles

~When you’re feeling under the weather, Meguru jumps at the chance to take care of you.

a/n: I love a good sick fic, and I hope you do. This was my first time writing for any Blue Lock Characters so I hope I didn't mess it up too badly.

~This is one of the requested prompts for My Emoticon Expression’s Event; check out the masterlist On my welcome page.

The morning sun hasn’t even picked through your blinds yet, and you are awakened by a devilish pounding in your head. Your joints ache, and your skin is clammy with an uncomfortable layer of sticky sweat. You’re definitely sick.

Your poor throat feels tight as you breathe out a tired little whine, twisting yourself so that your back is to the window.

You reach an arm out across the mattress, hoping to find the familiar figure of your boyfriend sleeping next to you, only for it to lay flat against the cold- slightly wrinkled sheets.

How rude, “you think to yourself. You must have gotten this cold from standing in the rain watching Meguru’s last home game. 

He never forces you to go, but he refers to you as his good luck charm, so often you feel the need to make it to as many as you can. 

Reluctantly, you pull yourself out of bed and head to the bathroom, searching the cabinets for some medicine that will make it easier for you to rest. Turning on the light, you can see your reflection in the mirror, and you look rough. All natural color has been completely drained from your face, and your skin shines with a sickly hue; peering in closer, you see that your eyes are bloodshot and watery. As for your nose, there are definitely some bats in the cave, but the thought of doing anything about them just makes your head pound more.

After taking a bit of medicine, You have just enough sense about you to send a quick message into work telling them that you will be taking a sick day. Before your head hits the slightly cooler pillow and you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

~

Something touches your cheek. It’s just a little tap, innocent, playful. But It’s enough to have you peek open your eyes. Meguru’s bright citrine gaze stares back at you kindly. “You’re not feeling too well, are you?” He asks the question in his usual chipper voice, but you can’t tell that he is worried about you. 

You shake your head; you are not feeling any better than you had this morning. You didn’t think it would be possible, but now you feel worse. “No,” Your throat feels tight and itchy as you croak out your response. “I-I think I’m sick.”

“I can check for you,” he offers, placing the back of his palm on your dry forehead. His much colder skin feels like heaven against your own. 

“Oh my, you’re really burning up.” His features light up in a way that doesn’t quite fit the mood, and you furrow your brow, trying to figure out why he looks so eager about the whole thing. 

 “Isn’t this exciting?” he says earnestly.

“What? Exciting?” You wheeze pitifully, your body shivering underneath the blankets as you pull them impossibly tighter.

“Very exciting,” affection and adoration clear as day on his face as turns walks across the bedroom. Tossing open the closet door, he pulls out a pile of folded, fluffy blankets and plops them on the edge of the bed so he can unfold them. “It’s exciting to me that today, I get to be the one to take care of you.”

He carefully drapes the first one over your still shaky form and tucks it tight against you. 

“I don’t know if I’d call this exciting,” you murmur, watching him unfold another blanket and lay it on top of the other one, effectively turning you into a human blanket burrito. As you look at how much care he puts into such a simple action, you know it’s not just the blankets that are making you feel a bit warmer.

“Oh, but It is.” he grins, tucking the last of the pile over you. “You took care of me when I wasn’t feeling well, so now I get to be the one to do it.” He makes the idea of caring for you sound so dreamlike you may not understand what goes on in his head. But you know he’s being honest when he says he wants to help you.

There is a familiar tingling sensation under your nose, a sneeze, the kind of sneeze that threatens to spill the contents of your overstuffed nose everywhere. Your arms are tucked so neatly into the blankets you are unable to free them in time to reach for a tissue, or at least your arm.

But just as you are about to blow, your boyfriend carefully presses a wad of them against your nostrils. The feeling of having someone else do it is foreign to you, but it works, and instead of looking disgusted, Meguru looks almost accomplished, having helped you out already for the second time.

“See? I told you I’m here to take care of you.” He smiles, tossing the wad into the nearby trash can, sanitizing his hands.

The sneeze may have partially cleared up your sinuses, but that headache from before has returned in full force. Can you try and borrow yourself further underneath the covers to shield your sensitive eyes from the light? You are unsure why, but now you are feeling so, so self-conscious about this whole thing.

“Meguru, you really should get away. Right now, I’m cold, hot, and shaky. My head feels like it’s going to fall off, and my stomach is doing flips” You try again, speaking to him from underneath the covers. It will be much easier if you don’t have to look at his cute face while you reluctantly tell him to go away. You don’t want him to leave, but he shouldn’t have to deal with you like this, “you have a big game this weekend; you shouldn’t get sick taking care of me..”

“I’m not leaving, you are telling me all these things to push me away, but they only make me want to help you more.” he says, gently pulling the blanket off your head, “I don’t care about getting sick; I just want you to feel better.” You were ready to send him off with another brigade of excuses, but then he brings out the pleasing puppy dog eyes. “Please let me help you.”

Dammit, He’s good

“Sometimes, you are just too persuasive for your own good.” you sigh as he slips a large pillow behind your back to prop you up. “If you really want to help me out, I won’t stop you.”

He beams victoriously; the look in his eyes is almost as joyously intense as when he megs a goalkeeper to score. “Just wait; I am going to take such good care of you; you will feel better in no time.”

You wiggle a bit, working to free your arms from the confines of your blanketed prison. You have a feeling today will be much more enjoyable if you are able to move them freely. But the blankets don’t budge. “A little help, please…” you huff. 

“I tucked you in a bit too tight, didn’t I” he giggles. “I guess that was my way of trying to keep you in bed today.”

You laugh at his joke but quickly lose your breath. Your whole body heaves with each cough putting fat tears in your eyes.

“Hey, You gotta take it easy,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as if he thinks that True Love’s Kiss is powerful enough to cure a common cold. You love that he is a romantic, but you really don’t feel much better and continue to cough into your sleeve as if you are dying.

“What can I do to help you right now?” 

You are about to ask for a glass of water to soothe your dry throat, but he gets ahead of himself.

“Oh, I know; I can run down to the grocery store and pick you up some Gatorade, so you stay hydrated. I should also get you some good things to eat and pick up some medicine.” he starts pacing across the room, talking more to himself than to you. “Then when I get back, we can watch some of your favorite movies, or maybe if you are up for it, we can play those video games you like.”

He got so lost in his ramblings he forgot that you actually need something until your next fit of coughing hits you. “Are you okay? What do you need?” he’s kind of freaking out.

He starts to rush to the kitchen but stops and comes back, realizing that your voice is already so weak you shouldn’t have to yell for him.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, taking a deep breath and getting close, calming down for both your sakes. “What can I get you?

“C-could I have a glass of water, please,” you say in a small voice.

He nods eagerly, rushing out of the room as quickly as he can. His eagerness is utterly adorable. 

At first, when you heard the clinking and clanking of glass and doors in the kitchen, you were concerned, but you truly know that Meguru Bachira is a capable adult who won’t burn the place down just by pouring a glass of water for his sick partner.

He comes back with a tall glass of water, a pitcher, a few tablets of Ibuprofen, and a frozen water bottle.

“Thank you,” you say, taking a pill for your headache and chasing it with a greedy gulp of water. “You’re the best,”

“I haven’t even started yet.” he laughs, cheeks turning a bit pink from your praise. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”

Despite the mountains of blankets already on top of you, your coughing fit has given you quite the chill. Your skin covers itself in goosebumps as you look up at him pitifully. “Could you get me another blanket?” 

“Another one? You really must be freezing,” he says, looking in the closet for any more blankets. “I don’t see anymore, but I have something better in mind.”

You cock your head to the side as he strides across the room, springing onto the bed. Before you can object, he wiggles underneath your mountain of blankets and lays next to you. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Keeping you warm with some Cuddles,” he says innocently. “I told you before that I don’t care about getting sick, so why don’t we just relax and watch your favorite comfort movies. I placed an order for some groceries, so I won’t have to leave your side today.”

You cling to the heat he is giving out and enjoy the feeling of his embrace. “Do you promise?” you hum.

“I promise,” he shoots you a playful wink and holds you even tighter to his chest. “After all, I would never want to miss out on a sick day with you.”

[127luvr]

015 Heat Lightning

. ˚ ｡ ° ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⋆˙ ✧ ⋆ ˗ˋˏ ✩ ˎˊ˗ ⋆ ˙ ✧ ⋆ ｡ ° ⋆ ࿓ .  ˚

the venue is beautiful—painted a charcoal grey on the outside with no indication that there was an event indoors. there’s no sign of an exhibit—except for the large guard that stood next to the door, scanning tickets. and the ticketing booth that was stationed a few feet away from the building with a couple of people lined up out of pure curiosity.

the three of you wait for the rest of the group, standing a bit away from the building as to not attract attention. you’re near the sidewalk—standing with a knee resting on the nearest bench you could find. haechan is holding mark’s hand, standing in front of him as he fixes a few strands of hair. their affection doesn’t make you uncomfortable—it doesn’t leave you with a bitter feeling like it would if it was jaemin and jaehyun together. no—watching mark and haechan was nice—it made you want to be in love.

“hey!” renjun catches you in a hug, his arms squeezing you as tight as he could even with his small frame. it takes you a second to wrap your arms around him, smiling into his shoulder when you get comfortable in his touch. you see the rest following behind him—jeno greeting you with his signature smile—jisung offering you a fist bump by renjun’s waist—and chenle, who only greets you with a slight nod of his head. “did you wait long?”

you shook your head, linking arms with renjun as you all walk towards the entrance.

getting inside was easy—navigating was a different story. the entrance is a narrow hallway with only a restroom visible along the walls. it takes you a second to spot the door that leads inside.

you can’t see all of the different photographs at once—there are walls that separate the different themes of love. they don’t quite reach the ceiling—creating a more open floor plan to the exhibit. it’s beautiful. it causes your eyes to water as you tear away from your friends, drawn more towards the large display that covers the further most wall. it hangs in the dead center, visible from every corner of the room. it’s a picture of all of you—of you—of haechan—of mark—of jisung and chenle—of renjun—of jeno. you didn’t realize he had snapped this picture of you guys. capturing only the back of your heads in front of the night sky.

it was outside of the house—during the start of autumn where the air was finally getting cooler.

there are more scattered around as you walk around—almost dizzy with all the turns you make—but it’s worth it. you find yourself in a lot of his works. seeing yourself through his eyes—with your head thrown back in laughter as he snaps a picture quickly. you’ve never questioned it—his swift movements—but it makes sense now as you follow arrows you find placed at the very bottom of the walls.

you can see jaehyun in some of these—in more recent pictures. they go from black and white to more saturated. it’s a small detail—one that makes your stomach feel funny.

“Y/N!” you turn your head towards jaemin’s voice, a sense of tranquility washing over you as you finally spot him. he looks even better in person. the buttoned up shirt he wears tucked in only on one side, accentuating his waist incredulously. he wraps his arms around you before you can protest, squeezing you tightly as his arms bulge out of his sleeves. you can feel his breath on your ear, growing warmer as he keeps you in his hold. “thank you for coming.”

“jaemin. i’m really proud of you—you know i wouldn’t have missed it even if i was dying.” he laughs—his entire body shaking as he chuckles. he finally lets you go, stepping back to look over his shoulder and wave someone over. you feel cold now—as if the temperature had dropped in the room but you keep your cool. waving your friends over along with jaemin as he silently reels his boyfriend in. “guys.”

“jaehyun!” four voices call out his name—neither of them being you or jaemin. out of the four, haechan is the first to speak, “we’re label mates…”

. ˚ ｡ ° ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⋆˙ ✧ ⋆ ˗ˋˏ ✩ ˎˊ˗ ⋆ ˙ ✧ ⋆ ｡ ° ⋆ ࿓ .  ˚

prev masterlist next

[mybworlds]

Chapter 3

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Summary: This story sets 15 yrs before The Mandalorian events, Din Djarin is hired by Rebel Alliance forces to protect and escort you, the princess of a dead planet, to your new home. Series warnings: use of you, violence, science fantasy elements, slow burn, angst, fluff, mutual pining, eventual smut (18+ MDNI), trauma. Masterlist

Thanks @idontgetanysleep and @saradika-graphics the dividers. Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner.

Taglist: @thegreenkid2, @harriedandharassed if someone else wants to be added let me know.

When you wake up, you discover the doors of your small quarter open and the Mandalorian there intent on staring at you, you wince in fright and at that intrusive gesture, no one had ever allowed himself to stand there and watch you sleep.

“What are you doing?” you ask him as you sit up and look around.

“We arrived at our first destination,” he replies simply as if you are aware of what destination he is talking about or can read his mind.

You let your gaze wander from him to your robot friend not so far from the two of you, “Are you going to tell me more or am I supposed to guess?” you ask him raising an eyebrow.

“All I know is that I have to bring you to a safe place, give you up to someone named Fulcrum and that's it, that's all I know. I don't want to know why, what's so special about you, who's after you and why, I just have to bring you there.” he answers you almost annoyed.

You look him in his eyes or, rather, where you think his eyes are “I'm not asking you to understand, but at least be a little less harsh on me, please.” you find yourself lowering your gaze and remaining silent for a few moments “I don't know if you can understand what I say, but I'm scared, I lost everything. I have nothing left. What I have is the hope of being able to start over somewhere with someone I trust, the hope of being able to fight for something, to believe in something.” you look up at him again "I know I am nothing to you but a useless burden, but you know I have feelings too." you swallow as you look up into his face and bring your knees closer to your chest.

You hear him sigh, “I don't--” he is about to say something, but then he reconsiders, “Hold your breath, in a little while we land and the first impact with this atmosphere can be very uncomfortable.” said that, he walks away going over NK - 841 and disappearing into the narrow corridor.

“NK - 841,” you call to the robot who immediately approaches, “I feel so lonely,”

“You are not alone Princess,” he replies with a metallic voice.

“I do not know what to expect, I do not know what the Mandalorian's intentions are, whether he is willing to sell me to the highest bidder,” you reply with a sigh.

“Princess, the Mandalorian is bound by an oath sacred to him, the agreement made with the man of Arkanon will not be violated.” he replies again with a metallic voice.

You swallow, “I don't know what to believe in,” you sigh, “I'm afraid, so afraid.” you confess, as you are finishing the sentence the ship is shaken by what you imagine is the atmosphere of the Planet the Mandalorian told you about. You do as he told you, hold your breath and hide your head between your legs, the jolting gets louder and louder and your ears begin to hurt, your head gets heavy, as the ship returns to its normal set-up, you find yourself screaming, not even realizing it.

You get out of breath, you gasp. You feel like that room is closing in around you, on you, you feel like you are being crushed, you look at the ceiling trying to regularize your breathing uselessly, “H - h - he - help - help…” you want to say, but only a hoarse whisper comes out from your mouth, you are afraid. You think about your mother and her hugs, about a day when there was stardust in the sky marking the transition from cooler weather to warmer weather, about your father and how he used to make you practice sword dancing, about how uncoordinated you were at first and how funny some of your steps were, about your brothers and how they used to teach you how to read the Arkanian, how they used to tease you when you mispronounced a few words. You feel like you can hear their laughter, their words everything is confused in your mind… when you regain consciousness you're in a significantly larger room, there's light, you're no longer on the Mandalorian spaceship.

You sit down in the middle of the bed, for a moment you feel like you are in your room on Arkanon, for a moment you think that the destruction of your Planet, the death of your family and your civilization, the encounter with that strange guy were a long bad dream, but then you reconnect with reality and focus on the milky walls of the room, on a monitor on the wall, on strange lights flashing on that monitor. You get up, but your head still hurts, you approach that strange monitor when the door of the room opens and you see a young woman with long purple hair and a big smile on her face.

“Good morning, young Princess.” she greets you, you are about to ask her who she is and how she knows you, but she gets ahead of you “I am Elizia, first citizen and chief authority on Planet Ellna,” she observes you “How you feel?”

“Fine, I'm … just a little confused,” you reply, touching your head.

“That's fine,” she says approaching you “let me help you,” she continues, her tone of voice is strange, you wrinkle your forehead “come, follow me. You must be hungry.” she says turning her back to you and inviting you to leave the room.

“Yes,” you say following her, the hallway has similarly white walls, there are windows showing the outside only there. You stop to observe strange creatures running in the trees around you, some eating what looks like fruit, others fighting. You look ahead, Elizia is waiting for you “Those are sacred creatures to us,” she explains “they have been here for more than three thousand years and will continue to be here, they are essential to our survival.”

“Forgive me, but where is my--” yours? “traveling companion?”

“The Mandalorian is resting.” she replies in a quiet tone “Come, let me show you the wonders of our world while we go to breakfast.”

You continue down a corridor surrounded by many stained glass windows, birdsongs can be heard in the distance, and you almost feel like you are back at home in the evenings of the rising sun when stardust made the sky and the clothes of you Arkanians glow, you smile. It seems like something happened more than a thousand moons ago.

The two of you meet other women and men of Ellna, they almost curtsy when they meet Elizia, they all wear long ivory tunics and their white hair - unlike Elizia's - probably the purple hair of the woman next to you indicates her social status.

“All of this will seem very strange to you, maybe my hair, our clothes, even the landscape,” she says again as if sensing your thoughts “this way,” she says pointing to a door that as you approach it immediately opens revealing itself to be an open place overlooking an immense expanse of flowers, streams, it's a breathtaking sight, “Have a seat,” she says, when you turn to her, you find her next to a finely set table, there's lots of good food “help yourself.” she adds as she sits down.

“Thank you.” you say sitting down as well and starting to eat everything in your reach, you realize you are very hungry, you eat a lot, maybe even more than you need and when you look up you meet the woman's amused one “I was hungry.” you justify yourself.

“Don't worry, my young Arkanian. There is no hurry, you can sit here at the table as long as you wish.”

You swallow wiping your lips, “What is this place? I mean, why are you so nice to me?”

“This is a place of great rigor and discipline,” she begins, “We have known your civilization from what you call moons, we have been fascinated by your science, your culture have always been something we have aspired to,” you wrinkle your brow, “we want you to stay here and share with us the secrets of your people.” she adds.

You get up from the table, “Where is my traveling companion?” you ask, making the chair behind you squeak.

She also gets up, “I told you, he rests. You want to see him?” you nod, now understanding her fake kindness, that fake smile. You need to find him now and get away as fast as you can.

You enter the hallway again, this time your step is hurried, your breath short. “He's fine, don't worry,” she says again, but her voice is strange, it's like … distant, ringing in your ears like a distant echo. You walk several yards, then the woman enters a code, and when the doors open, you see a dark place, there are stairs. You hold your breath as you look toward the woman fearfully, “Come.”

You start to go down the stairs, as she passes that place seems to light up, it's frighteningly unbelievable how much you see: she's taking you to what reminds you of prisons. It's so cold down there, it's so … you arrive in front of a jail, yes it's a jail, even though it's dark you recognize the metal bars and then inside there is a machine that makes an annoying metallic noise, you look toward the woman who is watching you.

“That's our mind-absorber.” you swallow intuiting its use “It's a very useful piece of machinery especially when we have uncooperative prisoners, like your friend.” you go back to observe the interior, there's someone, but... “we discovered with this ingenious device that Mandalorians can never take off their helmets since they are bound by their sacred oath except for a few special places or for serious reasons,” you look up at her for a moment then look inward and only then, squinting, you see him lying supine completely helpless. You swallow, your heart pounding.

“What did you do to him? You told me…”

“He's resting,” she interrupts you, “of course not a voluntary sleep, but a necessary one. This place,“ she says pointing to the place - or who knows maybe she's referring to the Planet- ”is absorbing a fantastic millennia-old culture, combined then with yours will help to rise the fortunes of our dying Planet again.” you shake your head shocked and resting your hands against the bars, you shake them "Don't do that, you just make it worse."

“Mandalorian, Mandalorian, Mandalorian, wake up!” you exclaim vigorously you slamming your hands against the bars, you slam those doors so violently that you open 'em. You run close to the man still wearing his helmet, you shake him a couple of times and at that moment that eerie device begins to emit deafening and ever-closer sounds, you see so many pulses recorded on the monitor and it worries you.

“Your friend has a great brain, he has great rigor, he's going to be very disappointed when…” you rip all the wires that kept the Mandalorian connected to the machine, those sounds become whistles “NO, NO, STOP! THAT WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING!” you hear her shout behind you as she runs by the mind-absorber whose screen begins to flicker and flash red with the words ‘EMERGENCY CIRCUITS NOT CONNECTED IMMEDIATELY REPLACE THE CONNECTIONS,’ you shake the Mandalorian again as Ellna tries to grab you and block you.

You turn toward her and something incredible happens, you push her away from you, but it is as if that push you gave her was of extraordinary strength because the woman disappears into the darkness with a scream followed by a distant metallic noise. You open wide your eyes in amazement and observe your hands, they are still the same, no peculiarities, nothing that could justify what has just happened before your eyes. You remain interdicted for a moment longer and then turn back to your traveling companion, you shake him again and again and only then the Mandalorian begins to move, he is waking up, you smile fleetingly at him taking one of his glove-covered hands “We have to go, Mandalorian. You have to get up.”

He nods and struggles to get up, you help him to his feet, make him put on the things he had with him, and then help him to his feet, his step is unsteady as you walk up the stairs and back upstairs.

Above your heads echoes an alarm and a red flashing light, “Mandalorian, we must leave.” you whisper to him “Does this Planet have breathable air?” he nods, you hear him breathing heavily “Don't worry, I'm here, I'll help you. “ you tell him as you trudge down the corridor you had previously walked with Ellna, you reach the terrace on which she had earlier made you eat and from there in theory you could have descended, but in practice it is impossible as you cannot jump or climb since it is a suspended place over an overhang.

“What do we do now?” you ask him, but it's as if you're talking to yourself because you really have no idea how to get out of it, you let your gaze wanders left and right in case something had escaped you, but there's no way out. Meanwhile, not too far away from you, you hear voices, you look at your traveling companion with a frightened look, he still looks dazed, the voices are getting louder and louder they are getting closer, you back up until you end up against him, you look up at him, you know he is looking at you, you feel it.

“Here they are!” someone exclaims, opening the door that separated the two of you from the inhabitants of that Planet, only at that moment when ten men appear before your eyes pulling at you what look like weapons, you feel one of the Mandalorian's arms wrap around you completely and make you reverse your position with his, sparks of red and purple light shatter against his armor as you cling to him as much as you can closing your eyes “Hold on.“ you hear him say, you barely make it in time to cling to his armor that you leave that terrace, you feel like a strong suck in your stomach, the cold air almost scratches your face making your hair move uncomfortably, "Don't be afraid," he adds barely holding you to him, it's a gentle grip, you want to say thank you, look at him, but you can't, "You're safe, we're safe now." he tells you again.

You don't know how long you've been flying or what you've been flying on, when you finally touch the ground, your knees give out and before you know you are throwing up, the Mandalorian will probably tease you until he takes you to your next destination, but you don't care at the moment. When you open your eyes, the Mandalorian is kneeling beside you “How you feel?” he simply asks, you look at him in amazement “Good.” you say nodding your head.

“Can you walk?” he asks standing up and holding out his hand to you, you grasp it as you stand up, but you almost stagger against him “No, I would say no.” he replies for you “Okay, never mind,” he adds taking you in his arms, you barely open your lips wide in amazement, but you do not protest rather place one hand against his chest covered by his armor and the other on your lap.

You arrive after a few moments in what has all the appearance of being a forest, there are many trees and lush vegetation populated by many small strange creatures, from there you hear and feel that it is raining, you lay down at the foot of a large tree and then he fiddles with the leaves, “Are you thirsty?” he asks you.

“Yes.” you nod, looking at him in curiosity, “What are you doing?”

“Don't worry,” he reassures you as you see him create a sort of waterfall with the leaves “you can drink.” his voice is gentle and you trust him, for the first time you trust someone who is not an Arkanian. You drink, let out a small moan of pleasure and smile closing your eyes, you think back to the last time you drank your Planet's so pure water and how you didn't appreciate what you had then, today you only have a memory of it, the smile fades and you open your eyes wistfully again.

“What's the matter?” he asks you noticing your different expression from the one of a few moments before and leaving that ingenious little system prepared for you.

“You know, I was remember about my Planet, my home, and I was thinking back to my family,” you shake your head “I don't know if you can understand,” you bite your bottom lip clutching your knees to your chest “I miss everything I had.” you look at him “Don't get me wrong, you're a good company, but uhm, I mean…” he sits under another tree in front of you and looks at you, you know he's looking at you, you don't see his eyes, but you feel his gaze ‘can I ask you something?’ he nods ”is it true what that woman said? Don't you take off your helmet because of an oath? Or did she lie?”

“It's true. I mean, our people are divided into various clans, we are different from each other.” he explains ‘I'm part of The Tribe clan, we can't take off the helmet, it's our law.’

“And how do you eat?” you ask him curiously.

“That's when I can take it off, but I do it when I'm alone, completely alone,” he replies, emphasizing the last words.

“And how do you know you're really alone? I mean, someone could hide you and see you,” you say looking toward him tilting your head to the side.

“That's why the helmet is also useful, it reveals the presence of others whether they are animals or people.” you nod “Can I ask you something?” it's your turn to nod “Why are you so special? Why did that man tell me to protect you at all costs?”

So, Nanuk said that to the Mandalorian.

Oh, Nanuk!

“I don't know, I'm just an Arkanian, I'm … I was a princess, I had everything, but now I have nothing, so to answer your question, I don't know what's special about me.” you tighten your lips “I just found out a little while ago that I'm … strong, very strong.”

“In what way?” he asks, moving your torso forward.

“When you were unconscious and connected to that machine before, that woman tried to stop me, she wanted you to stay connected to that thing, while I was disconnecting everything instead, she tried to block me as much as she could, but I pushed her away and I thought I was just going to make her back off and instead, um, she… she just kind of flew away, I don't know, I didn't know I was that strong.” you tell him, looking at him ‘Am I weird in your opinion?’ you ask him.

“You are the first Arkanian I've met, I don't know your people despite having traveled far and wide. I don't know, maybe you have a power unknown to you that manifests only on particular occasions.” he replies uncertainly ‘Maybe in dangerous situations.’ he adds.

“Yes…maybe.” you assert scratching your forehead “Your spaceship do you know where it is?” you ask him, you see him fiddling with his armor that makes a series of sounds, you see him stand up and look first to the right and then to the left, he takes a few steps away from you and you follow him with your gaze.

“It's to the west, we could reach it in a short time, but we'd better wait for night. I'm afraid those people are looking for us.” he tells you, you look at him alarmed standing up immediately leaning against the trunk of that tree.

“But we're safe here, aren't we?”

“For now.” he answers you “Wait here.” he adds and then walks away without another word. The Mandalorian said nothing to you so as not to frighten or agitate you, but they are very close, they are looking for you, he sees them, they are on a hill almost in the vicinity of the clearing. He will keep them busy, you must stay hidden and safe, that is his priority, that is his mission.