#anyway this is so all over the place its 1am i need to wash the dishes

[illfoandillfie]

Thanks for the request! I think I’ve figured out why tumblr isn’t letting me post these things as actual replies to the asks. Apparently, from what I’ve been able to find out, ask responses have a character limit of a little over 4000. But I’m using a lot fuckin more than that to write a 1000 word blurb, so it keeps giving me error messages. I’m making this post in the legacy editor because I think it works better but you have to use the new editor when replying to asks and its a whole fuckin thing. It’s 1am rn but in the morning I might investigate xkit or something to see if theres an easier fix. If anyone knows anything please tell me lmao.

ANYWAY back to the smut. I had totally forgotten about the original blurb so if you need a refresher you can find it here. This one picks up right after the spanking is finished.

Warnings: references to spanking and public humiliation, degradation (whore/slut), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, fingering, p in v sex, references to oral sex (f receiving) and recording. i think thats it but its 1am so let me know if i missed something big

When you left the studio it was with teary eyes and a stinging bum. You kept your head down as you headed for the door, not wanting to meet anyone’s eye. Flirting with Roger had been fun, teasing him with your short skirt had been fun, and wearing no knickers just in case he wanted something to happen had definitely been fun. But you realised now you hadn’t quite known what you were getting yourself into. Had the spanking happened under different circumstances you were sure you’d have been nothing but pleased. But Roger had chosen to bend you over his knee in front of a room full of men – his bandmates and audio technicians who worked at the studio. It had been humiliating knowing they were silently watching it happen, listening to each crack of Roger’s palm against your arse. And, the worst part was how horny it had left you. You’d been aroused before the spanking but now you were wet. Pulling the door closed, you took a moment to lean against it, hoping to get your breathing under control and calm down.   “Rog, what the fuck?” Someone’s muffled voice asked, though it was difficult to know exactly who. “I can’t believe you just did that to her.” “What? She’s been throwing herself at me all day.” That last one had been Roger and he seemed completely indifferent to your humiliation. You couldn't bear to hear anything else and absolutely didn’t want to be around the next time one of them came looking for assistance. So you fled to the ladies room.

It was quiet in the bathroom. You washed your face and used the mirror to examine the red patches Roger had left on your arse cheeks. Try as you might, you couldn’t help thinking about the incident. In the moment you’d barely thought of the audience you had, only noticing once the hits had stopped and you’d stood up and seen them all frozen in place. And even then it had taken you a few seconds to realise what it meant. In the immediate aftermath your mind had been completely occupied with thoughts of fucking Roger, of how insanely horny you were. You shook your head, cringing away from your reflection as you replayed the whole thing in your mind again. Needing to sit down to try and process the whole thing, you shut yourself in one of the stalls and sat on the closed toilet lid, pressing your palms to your eyes like you could delete the afternoon from your memory.   Suddenly the door to the bathroom squeaked. Maybe you could sneak out of the building and just go home, call in sick for a few days.   “Y/N?” a familiar voice called. You breathed in sharply and then cursed yourself when you watched the person’s feet move across the bathroom and stop outside your stall. “Are you okay?” Roger asked. Since he knew you were there, you decided it’d be best to face him straight away rather than waiting him out. With a deep breath for courage you opened the door and walked to the sink, refusing to look at him. “Well Roger, you just spanked me in front of a bunch of people, some of whom I will have to work with after your band leaves. So no, not really.”   Roger had the decency to look a bit sheepish but you were too busy trying to explain how horrible it had been to let him get a word in. “You humiliated me. I had no idea that was what you intended and I wasn’t expecting it to happen in the studio and then after the punishment you didn’t even try to touch me let alone get me off.” Roger’s rapidly appearing smirk made you stop and realise what you’d just said.   “No, oh my god, no that’s not what I meant to say.” “I knew you enjoyed the spanking.” “Shut up, no. That’s not-” “Well love,” Roger said still smirking, “I didn’t cum either and I would have followed you sooner if I’d been able to stand up, but it took me a few minutes to calm the old fella down. Even just thinking about all your adorable little whimpers and squeals now has got me stiff as a rock. So I think theres a way to solve both our problems.” You hesitated, once again taken off guard by Roger, and unsure what to do. He deserved to be turned down, at least until he’d apologised properly. And yet, you were tempted to agree with his idea.   Sensing your indecision, Roger said, “No audience this time, no punishment. If anything, this is a reward for taking a spanking so well. You deserve to cum. You deserve my cock.” It was infuriating how cocky he was and yet you began talking yourself into it, excited to have the chance to actually fuck him.  Roger was hot and the spanking had been hot and if he was half as good as he obviously thought he was then you wanted to experience it. “Okay.” “Good girl,” he half growled, turning you around and pressing on your back to make you bend over, “would have been a waste not to fuck you after you went to all the trouble of not wearing panties. Now let’s have a look at you.” You whimpered as he pushed your skirt up, examining the results of your punishment.   He let out a hum as he ran his hands softly over the skin, “Faded a little but it looks very good on you. If my cock wasn’t about to break through my jeans I’d give you a few more just to see how you handle it.” But, no matter how mean he sounded, Roger’s touch was nothing but nice. He delicately traced around the hardest hit parts, which still smarted, and then trailed his hands down to your pussy lips.   You panted, the arousal you’d felt from being bent over his knee immediately rekindled.   “You really are a whore,” he growled, fingers becoming more insistent as they worked into your hole, “Can feel how much you’re enjoying this already.” You just nodded at him through the mirror, trying to retain some dignity by not outright begging for more.   Roger’s attention was mostly focused on watching his fingers disappearing into your cunt, monitoring how easily you were accepting new ones, how frequently you clenched with the need for more.   “Think you’re ready for my cock now.” He suddenly announced, unbuckling his belt.   “I am, Roger,” you whined as you lost his touch, pushing yourself back to try and hurry him. Roger just laughed at your eagerness as he pushed his pants down and took his cock in hand.   “No condoms, sorry. But I’ll pull out and cum on your arse, promise.” “Okay,” you nodded, sure his naked cock would feel so much better than a condom. He notched his tip at your entrance, “Just tell me when you’re close to I can be ready, okay?” “Okay, okay, just put it in already.” You caught his smirk in the mirror again but quickly lost it as he sheathed himself in your heat, pushing deeper than you’d expected on the first thrust. Your arms shook and you lowered yourself to rest on your forarms, moaning as he worked himself into you.  

Roger’s pace quickened immediately, each thrust coming quicker than the one before. His hands gripped you tight, one alternating between toying with your sore arse and your clit, the other pressing down on your back to keep you angled the way he wanted. You didn’t try to fight him either. The angle was working just as well for you, making you gasp and moan as he rubbed against some truly delicious spots. And whenever he decided he’d been quiet for too long, Roger was sure to come out with something new to say, calling you degrading names and talking about how good you felt for him. Before long the combination of your humiliating arousal from being spanked, his grade A dirty talk, and the physical sensations of being fucked so well, had your body tightening on the verge of orgasm. “C-Close,” you managed to gasp, the familiar sensation of nearing release sitting in the pit of your stomach.   And then suddenly Roger stopped. You whined desperately and tried your best to fuck yourself backwards onto his cock but he wouldn’t let you move, pinning you to the benchtop instead. “Please, you promised.” “Oh don’t worry, I’ll let you cum. Twice even, since you obviously love my cock so much. I just have one request.” Letting your head drop to your arms you asked him what he meant.   “Stay late with me tonight.” “What? Late? Why?” “I might have incidentally got your spanking on tape earlier and I’d like to have a matching recording of your pathetic, desperate moans.” “Roger!” you felt flustered again and couldn’t quiet meet his grinning reflections eye.   “I swear I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realise they’d started recording. But listening to you be a filthy slut while I eat you out or full your needy cunt would be much easier to get off to.” You hid your head in your arms again but Roger forced you to look up. “No one else heard the first recording and no one else would hear this one. Just me. So I can think of you while I wank.” You tried to squirm again but he grabbed your hips to still you and you broke, “Okay, anything you want Roger, please just let me cum.” “That’s my good cock whore.” he cooed, pulling out and ramming back into you as his fingers found your clit once more, “two orgasms now, like I said.” You just nodded as your denied orgasm picked up again, rapidly building to a strong climax. But even after you came Roger didn’t stop, relentlessly rubbing your clit and pounding into your cunt, rushing you into a second orgasm.” You were nearly sobbing as Roger pulled out entirely and stroked himself off onto your arse. And you were still leaning against the bench, dazed and satisfied, as he did his pants back up and moved to the bathroom door.   “I’ll see you tonight.”  

#my writing #my blurbs #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor smut #(just gonna keep posting them separate from the asks if i can't fix the problem) #(any requests i fill that were sent in by a non-anon person i will also post the ask with a link to the blurb #but if it was on anon i'll probs just delete it tbh #just so things don't get cluttered and confusing) #bday blurbs 2023

[adrienscroissantx]

I dream of dead miraculous holders

AU idea that most of the heroes die in the end with the battle of hawkmoth. Marinette is the only one who makes it out with no injuries, because fusing the ladybug earrings and the chat noir ring at the end of the battle healed all her injuries as a side effect. A few of the heroes survived, but all found themselves with disabilities. Luka will never walk again, Kagami lost an arm, Rose is blind and suffers chronic pain. 

But the threat is over now. And they all still address her with respect and admiration after all these years. She saved the world, and so did they. But compared to what she lost, what they lost, was it really worth it? 

She keeps in touch with the Lahiffes, hears how well Chris is doing in high school. The Cesaires tell her how successful Nora has become, how Ella won a soccer championship and Etta has gotten really into painting. She never hears anything from the Agrestes. There aren’t any left after all. She doesn’t keep in touch with Chloe’s parents either. She hears about the world moving on, the world celebrating her victory with festivals all over the world. Monuments are erected all over the city, commemorating the fallen heroes. 

It doesn’t feel the same, living without them now. 

Being the guardian has it’s perks though. Because in her dreams they’re all there. 

Nino tells her it was worth it. He’s spinning his hat in his hands the same way he’d toss his shield as carapace. Tossing, catching, tossing again. He’s rather casual about it, as he was about most things. Says he’d do it again in a heartbeat. Marinette tells him that he shouldn’t have had to. He shrugs. S’okay. It wasn’t ever about what i had to do, you know? She knows. She hates it.

Alya tells her about all the exciting things happening in the world, and she smiles so brightly and her eyes light up like they always did when she was talking about something she was passionate about. Marinette argues that it’s not fair if she isn’t there to see them. Alya tells her not to worry about that, that that’s not the point. It was never the point. 

Chloe acts like its obvious. Of course it was worth it, that’s a stupid question, surprising for you to ask, Ladybug. She still talks up to her as if she were an idol, looking at her with doll eyes and insinuating their best-friendship in every sentence she can. In death, she must know that Ladybug was Marinette all along. Chloe doesn’t seem to care about that though.

Chat Noir tells her that he loves her and that he misses her. She says she misses him too. She says she’s sorry, and he asks for what. Cmon, my lady! We saved the world! I wish I could be there with you, but hey! This isn’t so bad. You’re safe after all, and that’s all I could ever want. Go out and live in the world we made! Go and do all the things we always talked about doing! She tells him she only wanted to do those things if he could do them with her. He doesn’t respond to that.

Kim and Max always come together. They finish each others sentences. When she asks, they look at each other and nod. 100% certain, 100% sure. On some level she knows this cant just be a dream, because she still doesn’t really understand everything that Max says. His mind was always up in the stars, translating the secrets he found in them into words for everyone else to hear. She wishes she were smart enough to understand him. She never appreciated his brilliance when she had the chance to. Kim always tells him not to worry about what he’s saying, and does some cool trick you can only do in dreams. She always laughs. Even if she doesn’t mean it.

Juleka comes alone. She can never really get an answer out of her. She’s always looking up, talking about the rain. She never really understood what she meant, until a few days later when Rose tells her she’s growing violets on Juleka’s grave. 

Ivan never speaks, but he does smile. Mylene touches her cheek and tells her not to doubt the battles end. That she’s happy here. That she’s proud of what she accomplished.

Alix looks different every time. Sometimes she’s older, sometimes she looks like a teenager. Sometimes she’s Bunnyx, and sometimes she manifests as the young girl Marinette met in pre-school all those years ago. I always knew it would end this way. I couldn’t change it even if I wanted to. Trust me, i tried. Marinette asks her if she’s okay with the result. The result isn’t over. This end is not the end. There is still so much work to be done. She never stays for long, she’s always busy. With what? Marinette doesn’t know. She’s the only one who shows up in her hero costume, Marinette reasons that’s why she never found the rabbit miraculous. She never had much control over that one as the she did with the others. It was always meant to belong to Alix anyhow. Neither bothered to follow the rules. 

Sabrina has never looked so free. Marinette had never seen her in a dress before, but she’s always wearing one when she comes to visit now. A lot about Sabrina has changed. She never stops talking. It’s hard to get a word in, so she just lets her speak. Marinette gets the feeling she never got to much. She wants to ask her the question she asks everyone, but she already knows the answer. It greets her with a smile every time she visits, paired with a fun fact about water filtration systems and a top ten list of cretaceous dinosaurs from South America. Sabrina isn’t bothered. Sabrina is happy. 

They’re all happy. 

There was one other dream she had. It only came once. She had found herself in a park, with a light blue sky and soft green grass. And there HE was, sitting on a picnic blanket, throwing a giggling toddler Adrien in the air. Gabriel is laughing. Child Adrien is smiling. His wife is there, happy and charming as ever. And it makes her so angry. He doesn’t deserve a good dream. After all the hurt he caused. After all he’d done, all the death, all the pain, all the suffering. She wants to move, she wants to lash out, to take Adrien away and scream. But she can’t move. He doesn’t even see her. 

Emilie sighs a summer sigh, chuckling at the two of them, before looking over at her. She’s beautiful in person. Adrien looks so much like her. Her smile falters slowly, and there’s a sad look in her eye. “I wish things could’ve stay like this. I’m sorry.”

And she knows it’s not his dream. 

#Angst #very angst #marinette dupain-cheng #guardian of the miraculous #uh #death mention #her class becomes heroes #miracuclass #miraculous ladybug #emilie agreste #this is mostly purely for angsts sake #because i heard a sad song and came up w a scenario #and just like #what it must feel to be the one that survives #because it all depends on you #and by all accounts your fine #but thats the problem #anyway this is so all over the place its 1am i need to wash the dishes #miraculous au

[levis-coffeecup]

chapter 8| A fight and a Fall

WC-6.6 k

Content/Warnings

canon- compliant, canon-typical violence, descriptions of PTSD, grief, depression, heavy angst and themes, strong language.

Author’s Note

I'm a little late, I'm sorry. It's almost 1am in my country and I am technically a day late. I hope I didn't leave anyone waiting coz I know that feeling all too well. But on the brighter side, its valentines day when I'm posting this.

Song for this chapter is It will rain by Bruno Mars.

Chapters

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Masterlist | Playlist | Other Works

MAY 846

A light breeze ruffles Mae's hair as she sits reading a novel in Levi's office.

His quarters are painted in hues of brown and white. There's a wooden desk that falls right in your sight as you step in. And that's where Mae usually finds him, always scribbling on some sheets, and completing paperwork.

Two big windows are carved on the wall behind the desk so that enough light filters in and he can work easily without straining his eyes. And his desk is neat as expected. All his paperwork is usually stacked on one end of the table and his stationary on another.

Then there's a dustbin in the corner, filled with crumbled pieces of paper.

For some reason Levi takes hours to complete even a few sheets of paperwork. And he's often tossing paper after paper into that bin.

Mae thinks it is because he is insecure about his handwriting. His writing is a little messy. Always filled with lines scratching over words, because the right words come to him a little slower. So he keeps filling sheet after sheet until he finds the one where everything looks perfect.

Her eyes wander around his office. For the most part, it is covered in darkness, except the candle burns on the ottoman in front of her.

And another one flickers from the small kitchen top that is placed against the wall, right opposite to his desk. A few shelves are built over it, and it also has a small place to light a fire, and cook some meals if needed.

On the right, there is a fireplace, to heat the room against the winter winds. And on the left, there is a couch, where Mae is seated. And just behind the couch, is a door that leads to Levi's connected bedroom.

Levi's bedroom is simple. There isn't a single crease on his neatly made bed, placed in the corner, right below a window. A clothing rack filled with his washed clothes is kept in the empty space. There's a plain cupboard with a mirror attached on one side. And that's all there is to it.

Everything is clean and sparkling, and it smells like fresh laundry.

Levi is super busy these days with all his work as a captain, now that his squad has been formed.

So Mae comes to his place instead. He's well-versed with all the basics, and he can manage just well on his own now. But it's not just about tutoring now. She comes to meet him because she likes him, and his company. He makes her happy, very happy.

And in a month's time she's going to work here anyways. She has sent a letter to Mr. Mendes. She has spoken with Erwin, and it's all set. So then why not get acquainted with the place as well.

But that excuse doesn't work really well, because she is always cooped up in Levi's office.

The moon is out and it is late, and as always she's perched on the couch waiting for her friend to finish his meeting so that she can quickly tell him the corrections in his paperwork and head back home.

Levi always makes sure she proofreads it and identifies all the mistakes, and then he fills another sheet once again, with all the corrections she just gave.

Mae always tells him that she can write over his words and correct all his mistakes. That would be so much more quick and efficient. But he never lets her write a single word on his sheet, because apparently her handwriting is so shitty that it is almost pitiful

As if on cue, Levi barges in with a cup of tea and more paperwork in his hands. Speak of the devil. "What the hell are you still doing here?"

"I was waiting for you, just like you told me too?"

"Don't remember telling you to wait for me when the meeting ended 2 fucking hours late, shithead. How the hell are you planning to go back this late?"

"I'll walk."

"You'll walk?" He cocks an eyebrow up, scrutinizing her with scrunched-up eyes.

Her cheeks tinge pink at his intense stare as she averts her eyes elsewhere, thinking about how he is probably seeing all the imperfections in her face. What was he even trying to do? Applying the Pythagoras theorem to her face?

"Wow, you're not even kidding," he deadpans. "Quick tell me if there are any corrections in my paperwork, while I finish my tea, we'll leave in 5 minutes."

"W-we?"

"Yeah, can't let our little shithead roam all alone this late now, can we? She'll end up getting kidnapped and annoying the shit out of the kidnappers until they're out for me." Even though Levi jests, it isn't like the matter in hand isn't serious.

The crime rate has increased so much more since the fall of Maria. Yeah the evacuees are gone, and things are close to normal. But 1/3rd of the land is still lost. Crop is still lost and nothing can make up for it. So the prices are close to what they were before, but they still aren't as low as they used to be.

And a lot of people were pushed to the path of crime during the economic crisis. And now they stay there because they find things easier this way.

It's unsafe to walk out so late, all alone, and so he'll walk her home.

And Mae is so lost in the flutter of her heart, that she doesn't realize that she's walked back late often before. When she used to make trips to her spot in the forest. But things have changed now, and Levi cares for her enough to not let her out to wander alone at night.

"Aww! Levi, you're concerned," she chuckles at how peculiarly he voices his concerns.

"Yeah I am...for the kidnappers. And why the hell are you getting red again" he questions as he pokes her cheek. It's become a common occurrence these days and Levi believes something is genuinely wrong with her. "It's not even cold here, are you sure you're not unwell?"

"N-no I'm alright,... let's get going," she adds quickly changing the subject. A small smile quirks up on her face at his words. And at how lost he is about romance as well.

She picks up the stack of paperwork kept on the ottoman, and goes over Levi's mistakes. Slowly and steadily they are getting lesser, and she is very happy with the progress he's making.

In a matter of minutes Levi has written the corrections down in his notebook, and they walk out of his room, into the hallway.

The hallways are dimly lit by torches that are attached beside every door. Their burning fire heats up the way, and gives the brick walls a golden glow.

It's 11 at night, and the headquarters are quiet. There is not a single person within sight, as the curfew starts at 10. And all the cadets are cooped in their dorms after then.

Levi and Mae walk side by side in silence, crossing room after room as they make their way towards the main gates.

Something rattles in the distance. Levi's attention snaps towards it, and the door to the library opens. Erwin walks out with folder stacked in his hands

His gaze is quick to catch Levi's, and his figure draws closer and closer, as he makes his way towards him.

"You are heading out Levi?" Erwin asks as he nods at him, and then at Mae.

"Taking this tomato home, what else, she had to wait and increase my work just like you guys."

"Tomato?"

"Yeah Mae, who else, lord knows what types of illnesses she catches."

Mae stares wide-eyed at Levi as the words leave his mouth. And she is sure that all shades of red ever known to man are all visible on her face. Walls! This is so embarrassing.

"L-Levi stop it," she stutters in a hushed tone. Fingers tugging at his sleeve for his attention.

Erwin studies Mae's stiff figure. Her face is beet red, and she tries to cower behind Levi's slender frame.

"What a horrible illness you have caught Mae!" he jokes as realization finally dawns upon him. "Do notify me of any further implications, please," and with that, a hearty laugh escapes his lips as he waves them goodbye and walks away.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

It's another day, another night and just like always Levi and Mae walk along the barren street and the flickering street lamps.

It has become a habit by now. Whenever she comes over to his place, she purposely stays until it's late, so that he walks her back, and she gets to spend more time with him. In her opinion, it's also a well deserved break that Levi needs, because god knows that man is a workaholic.

And he hardly takes any time out for himself.

And the town seems so serene at this time, there are hardly any people in sight. Everything is so quiet and it feels like they are the only ones living in the entire world.

Levi is a step ahead of Mae, eyes focused somewhere in the distance. And the both of them walk in silence. Listening to the sound of the crickets and the occasional wind.

"Mr. Mendes wrote back to me this time." Mae speaks out after a while.

Levi's gaze shifts, and he stops and swivels towards her.

"They are coming back in a month, exactly at the time when I was planning to leave."

"So.. are you planning to continue working at the clinic?" Levi quirks a brow, curious of what her answer will be.

"No... nothings going to stop me from leaving the clinic." Mae speaks with determination in her voice, but then she sighs, a little exhausted. " It's been more than a year and the only time he responds is when I write about leaving his damned clinic... My life feels like such a joke sometimes, I think god himself is trolling me..." .

Levi remains silent. Keeps the space open if she wants to add something else as well. And in a few seconds she voices her thoughts out loud. "I just think it's suspicious. It can't be that he decided to read one letter and that turned out to be the one where I wrote about working somewhere else. It's too much of a coincidence. I think he read all my letters but for some reason he didn't reply back to them..."

"Does it still bother you that he just left and you started ignoring you all of a sudden?"

There were days when she missed him so miserably, she would feel abandoned and lonely. But ever since she has started spending more time with Levi, the void caused by Mr. Mendes's absence has faded away. And Mae can't help but smile as she says, "it doesn't bother me a lot anymore."

Levi hums and a comfortable silence settles again. Their footsteps fall into perfect sync. Minute by minute their time together, tonight comes to an end, as the distance to her house reduces. And Mae savors the moments that she has with them.

And she doesn't notice Levi's steps get slower, his presence getting closer, until his hand grabs hers. "Levi?" She jolts out a little loud.

"Ssh, someone is following us," he whispers in return.

Mae can't hear any sounds or clues to confirm his suspicions, but Levi has always been very alert and sensitive to minute changes in the environment, and for something like this he can be undeniably trusted.

What is to be done is understood, they have to make the pursuers believe that they aren't yet aware of their presence.

So without turning her head back, she gives him a smile and continues to walk ahead.

But what she doesn't understand is that her dear student Levi isn't really planning to act and sneak her to her house. No, he is planning to confront the pursuers, as soon as they reach the upcoming crossroad.

With not many houses around there, it is the perfect location to beat them to a pulp.

Levi's hold tightens on her hand and Mae the feeling of security engulfs her whole being. The crossroad looks bigger and bigger as they walk towards it. And it's just a 15 minute walk to her home now and she hopes everything will be alright till then.

But Levi halts. Hand still holding hers in a gentle grip and body as calm as always. As if there is no one following after them.

And then he takes a 180 and turns around. Tucking her behind his frame as his eyes scan through the area.

"Oi! You shits can come out now," he yells out. And Mae can only stand frozen in shock as five bulky men walk out of the darkness. A wicked grin adorns their face, and a chill runs up her spine, as they step closer and closer towards them.

"Levi, what the fuck?" She whispers meekly.

He doesn't respond and his eyes remain focused straight ahead.

"Levi?" She clutches his upper arm with her free hand and tugs it in desperation, begging him to move so that they can run away.

"Levi." It isn't a whisper this time and her actions get frantic.

But Levi stands straight, unbothered by her ministrations. He doesn't budge an inch. He just stands calmly observing the men in front of him.

Mae watches them too, as stride forward. They are huge, and their build is brawny. Their biceps bulge out of the sleeves of their shirt, and she is sure their arms are big enough to cover her entire face, if flexed.

And then she looks at Levi who stands in front of them, with unwavering confidence. She doesn't know what he is thinking, but she knows that these men will break him into two, in a matter of minutes.

The men stop at a distance and Levi lets go of Mae's hand as he says, "Mae run, go straight to your house, I'll be there in a while."

But, Mae stands still, as she stares at Levi in shock "WHAT! Are you kidding me?"

There is a twitch in her leg, and a part of her is begging to run away. Her hands tremor with fear and she tries her best to not let the conflict in her mind show in her voice "LEVI ARE YOU BLIND! There are 6 men and all of them are at least a foot taller than you... You'll get your ass handed to you, how the hell are you going to escape from a situation like this."

Her jitters obviously don't go unnoticed by Levi. And even though his steady grip doesn't hold her back anymore, her concern for him does.

"Maybe you should listen to your darling and give up, we don't mean to harm you after all shortie. Just give us all the money you have in your wallet... and your little darling. She'll fetch us some good money in the market," the man in the center snickers, as he looks at Levi menacingly.

Mae's mouth runs dry as she hears those words. They want to sell her. And if Levi loses, which he probably will, then she will lose two of the most important things in her life. Him and her freedom.

Levi taps his feet, as his patience wears thin. Time is ticking, and any moment the men in front of him can charge his way, and start attacking him and Mae.

He looks at her through the corner of his eye. She is shivering and every ounce of dread that is running through her mind is clearly visible on her face. Yet she stands beside him, unwilling to back off and leave this place.

He clicks his tongue in frustration. Just if this woman could listen to him and go, he would get over with this in an instant.

"Oi" Levi waves his hand in front of her eyes. "You literally look like you just pissed your pants, so go RUN. I'll fight them off."

But his words fall on deaf ears, and it only leaves him more agitated. "Mae, you're useless in combat... just go away," he seethes through his teeth.

Mae's eyebrows contort into one of disgust. He is taking this situation very lightly, and now is not the time to be cocky and impractical. "You're a little stupid and overconfident Levi, but I'm not leaving you here alone to get beaten and robbed... So you don't need to act all cool and heroic... I'm staying, we'll figure out something together." Her voice cracks a little at the end, and tears well up in her eyes as she looks at her surroundings.

There are 5 men around them, and they are bound to gang up against Levi. And even though she is useless in combat, she will not leave him in so much danger.

She knows that Levi doesn't have much money on him, and if she escapes then they will have no leverage. The men will lose even if they win the fight, and she doesn't want to imagine the horrible things they'll do to Levi then.

Her hold on Levi's upper arm loosens, and her trembling body slowly lumbers forward until it is shielding him, hands raised up in surrender.

The men stand dauntingly in a semicircle in front of Mae. She gulps, but her resolve is strong. And there is no way she'll let Levi fight these guys and get his body mangled into pieces.

"You run faster than me Levi, I- I'll go with them, and buy you some time. You escape and get help from the military police... They want to sell me, so they won't harm me, physically at least... They'll want me... in a good condition."

"That's the worst fucking plan I've ever heard." Levi scoffs in response, and he yanks her back to the spot beside him.

"I AM NOT LEAVING YOU HERE TO FIGHT ALONE, OKAY. JUST SHUT UP, I'M TRYING TO THINK." She yells out, voice teetering close to an order..

"Sorry lovelies, we ain't got the time for all this," the leader snickers, clearly enjoying all that's happening in front of him. And then he points his finger at one of his cronies, and gestures to him to move forward.

Haughtily one walks out, stretching his bulky arms as he walks towards the short pair.

"Mae run, MAE RUN," Levi booms. Hastily placing his hand on her head, and making her bow down with him as he evades the punch that the man throws.

Swiftly, Levi swiftly grips the goon's wrist and twists it with all his might. The sound of a bone breaking pierces through. The goon loses himself in the moment of pain, and Levi turns around and yells at Mae in his most commanding voice, "MAE GO."

His tone is dripping with frustration. He doesn't understand why she can't just listen to him and leave him alone. And with her lack of experience in combat she'll get them both in trouble.

He turns his head around and looks at her. His jaw is clenched and his eyebrows are furrowed. And then his furious eyes meet Mae's teary ones. They are watery, brimming with fear and... concern, so much concern.

She's clutching onto his arm tightly, and nodding her head left and right, telling him that she is not going to leave him . One jerk and he can yank her off him.

A mellow expression takes over Levi's face. He releases the breath he has been holding since long, and he gives her a nod of reassurance. "I'll be fine, just trust me and go."

Mae watches as the goon yelps in pain, trying to get his wrist off Levi's iron grip. He uses his other hand in the process too, but Levi still remains so calm and stiff. His body doesn't even budge an inch. And nor does his gaze shift from hers.

But this is just one man, how will Levi ever be able to take down 4 more like him.

Watching their comrade suffer, the leader tells two others to help him. And Levi's eyes widen as he catches the sound of their footsteps threading closer, and closer.

"Mae, have faith in me, I'll come back alright... just go. I'm going to fight them, and you will only cause me more hassle if you stay here" His eyes are unwavering and he speaks with so much resolve, that a part of her mind is convinced that he'll be alright.

Her hands around his bicep loosens and she gave his hand a tight squeeze with her trembling hands. She doesn't know if he'll win this fight, but she does know that if he plans to fight, then she'll only be deadweight.

"Y-you promise me you'll come back alright," her voice breaks and her eyes glow fresh with tears.

Levi looks forward, gaze sharp at the men who cautiously step towards him, "I promise."

"I'm s-sorry" she stammers as she throws him one last remorseful look. And then she runs, runs without throwing a glance back because she knows that if she sees even a glimpse of Levi getting beaten up, her will would crumble.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Drenched in sweat, Mae rests her hand on a wall and takes a break, to steady her breaths.

She can feel the cool beads of sweat that stream down her face. Her breaths are quick and heavy. And her heart burns in the worst way possible. It feels like it will fall out of her chest anytime now.

She wipes the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand and surveys the scene in front of her. 3 men have fallen flat on the ground and two are still fighting with Levi, attacking him at the same time.

Her heart beats frantically, both due to exhaustion and fear, and she hopes that she's here in good time.

Taking a steady form, she charges towards the goon who has his back towards her. And then she hits him with all the force she could. With a pan, right on his head.

Already fatigued and fully engaged in his fight with Levi, the man immediately drops unconscious. Both the other combatants look at her and on instinct Levi, grasps both the hands of his opponent, lest he attempts to target Mae instead.

Their eyes meet for a fleeting moment. Levi seems to be doing pretty well, but without putting much thought into it she quickly makes her way to the other men laying on the floor. Beating their head with the pan a few more times, and then checking their pulse and their eye.

Shortly, the leader falls to the ground, many of his bones broken and parts swollen. "Pl-please join us, yo-you'll have the highest pay," he chokes out as he looks at the short man with pleading eyes.

"Tch," Levi puts his shoe on his face, not even bothering to answer as his eyes fall on Mae, examining whatever weird shit she's doing. She's hitting the unconscious men with a pan on their head. And then flipping them over to check their eye and pulse?

With a final kick on the leader's face, Levi walks towards her, "Oi, what the hell are you doing?"

Mae's head turns towards Levi instantly, and tears prick her eyes as she spots the big patch of blood-staining his shirt.

"Levi", she gasps. The pan in her hand drops and clatters against the road as she races ahead..

In a breath she's in front of him. Hands reaching out, towards the red stain and fingers hastily unbuttoning his shirt.

Levi's eyes widen, eyebrows scrunching up as he looks at her in disgust. Instinctively he pushes her away, almost yelling in her face, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

"Levi, you're wounded," she whimpers as her hands reach out towards his crimson shirt once again.

But he swats them away in an instant. Uncomfortable at the thought of being undressed by someone. His hardened gaze flits towards hers- to tell her to stop this bullshit, but when he looks at her face, it is so full of hurt and shame.

Her back slouches as she looks to her feet, fiddling with her fingers as even more tears fall from her eyes. This is all her fault, she shouldn't have left him all alone. He is injured because he was accompanying her and she stayed up late at his office. "I'm sorry," she speaks in a timid voice.

Great! Now all he feels is regret. Levi lets out an annoyed sigh as he unbuttons his shirt," It's not my blood, look, I'm alright, not even a scratch or anything," he calmly states, trying to be as reassuring as possible.

Slowly her eyes look up at his toned chest, only to find some blood smeared on it. "C-can I see knuckles?"

And Levi compliantly follows, not wanting to upset her anymore.

Satisfied with her inspection, Mae quietly gasps "you're a- alright."

Her eyes meet with his for a fleeting moment before they look down again, but Levi doesn't miss her bloodshot eyes, still moist from all the crying. He doesn't miss the glossy rivulets of sweat that deluge her droopy eyes and reddened face.

His gaze darts downwards as he takes in her tousled state and wilted frame. Her knuckles now pale, tightly clutching the sides of her dress which is splattered in dust, even ripped at a few places. There is a knife, in her waistband, and he has no idea where she got it from

And she even has a fresh bruise on her forehead.

Tch, what a mess. Why the hell did she come back when he clearly told her not to?

"You're injured," he plainly states.

The threat is over, and the stillness brings forth the searing ache that throbs in Mae's knee. The bruise peeks through the rip in her dress. And lifting its hem, she stares at the wound.

Pebbles stick to her skin, buried in the edges of the cut. And dirt coats the hot blood that trails down her knee. It hurts like a bitch.

"I am", she affirms to herself, "I fell when I was running."

Levi's hand slides down his pocket, and he pulls out a handkerchief. "Here take this."

Instantaneously, Mae takes the napkin and presses it on her injured knee. The dirt gathered in her cuticles doesn't go unnoticed, and her movements hesitate as vicious thoughts fill her head.

Here she is a damsel in distress, and then there is Levi, who fought all the thugs and is still calm and collected.

And now they are wasting time on a cut that her clumsy self got and he just waits.

Her movements hasten as she rubs her knee roughly, trying to get the dried blood and debris off the cut on her knee.

Levi sighs as he looks at her frantically cleaning the blood on her knee. She is a mess, both emotionally and physically.

"You're causing more damage," his voice is soft and Mae's eyes widen as Levi kneels down in front of her.

Levi takes the napkin from her hands, and her body shudders as she feels his warm hand wrap around the back of her knee. The fingers of his other hand are covered in the napkin. Wiping the blood that trails down her knee, as they slowly reach upward towards her injury.

Gently touches wanders over her wound, removing the pebbles stuck on her skin. She bites the insides of her cheek in an attempt to not let any pained sound from vocalizing.

After a minute, the pain fades away. And a soft fabric wraps around her knee. Levi's hands tie a knot at the back to hold the napkin in place, like a bandage. And his warm gesture makes the butterflies Mae's stomach dance in bliss .

"Do I have to do everything for you... you are a doctor aren't you?" The moonlight catches his silver orbs, as he looks up at her. His hand is still lingering on the bandage. And the sweat coating his face makes his skin glow.

Beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

And here she is smeared with dust and blood, a complete mess. Her dress is filthy and her hair is knotted. She is sure she looks ugly. Embarrassment floods her mind once again.

"Does it hurt?" Levi asks as he sees the gloomy expression that flashes on her face again.

Mae gulps. As it is she has wasted enough of his time, by making him walk her home. And now she even got her stupid self injured.

"No... let's get going," she affirms confidently, as she turns away from him, and makes her way towards the pan that lays next to the bodies of the unconscious men.

But Levi doesn't miss the limp in her step as she ambles ahead.

Liar.

"It doesn't? Okay catch up with me then," Levi jogs ahead of her. And once he has a lead, he turns around and watches her trying to hobble his way. Determination is plastered on her face, and her pace increases when she sees the way Levi tauntingly stands.

He sighs, his expression softening at the woman in front of him.

He's looking at a woman, who always prioritizes keeping safe, rather than taking a risk and getting yourself killed. He's looking at a woman who is practical and self-aware of her own weaknesses. Who makes decisions in accordance to her abilities.

And he doesn't understand why she came back, when he clearly told her not to. It would have made the whole task a whole lot easier. It isn't like her to act so irrationally.

In her haste, Mae continues rushing ahead. Midway, her face winces in pain, and a small gasp escapes her mouth. The white napkin on her knee is now splotched in blood again. And for a fleeting moment Levi sees the despondency that flashes on her face

It's only then that he realizes that this woman who told him to stick to Miche, and not risk his life, was ready to lose hers, knowing that she was absolutely powerless in comparison to him. She was ready to fight these men who were a foot and a few inches taller than her, when she knew she couldn't even hurt a fly.

And even though a part of him wants to lecture her for acting so out of nature and irrationally this time, a part of him just feels so ... cherished, so valued.

Warmth spreads in his chest, as he looks at her defeated form. Her eyebrows are pinched together, and she frowns as she looks at him. But still she continues to limp towards him, at her own slow pace. Ignoring the ache in her leg.

He walks towards her, and her gaze falls down to the ground.

"Why do you always have to be so stubborn? Hmm?... You are a doctor, don't you know what's best for you?

She gulps heavily, and then mutters, "sorry."

Levi stares down at her, gaze dawdling on her eyes, before it flits down to her wounded knee. It's bleeding even more, and he doesn't know how she's planning to walk all the way home now.

He turns around, so that his back faces her. And then he squats down. "I'll carry you home."

Mae's cheeks heat up at the suggestion. And even though she wants to jump at the opportunity of being so close to Levi, hesitation lingers in her mind as well.

The food shortage is over, and she has snacked on all the types of dishes that she had missed for an entire year. And now she feels a little anxious about the extra pounds that she has gained.

And right now, she is filthy as well. "Are you sure? I mean- I can walk it not like--"

"Shut up." Levi sneers as he throws her a sideward glance. And Mae can feel his eyes burning holes through her skin. She swallows thickly, and takes a step closer to him.

Placing her hands on his sturdy shoulders, she puts her legs through his looped arms. And as her chest presses to his back, she feels how muscular he is. Every part of his body is hard and toned, lean muscle.

He stands up, in a swift motion. With no support or even a stumble. And she can't help but be a little astonished at how strong he is.

He doesn't look that strong, his body is lean, not brawny like most men, who take pride in their strength.

"Am I too heavy? You can drop me if you get tired." Levi sighs but he doesn't miss the concern in Mae's voice.

"Why are you always underestimating my strength?"

"Levi you are a short, skinny man, and you just beat up 5 men... you must be tired."

"And you are a tiny ass woman, as if lifting you isn't a piece of cake."

Mae sighs, and wraps her arms around Levi's neck. "You just aren't realistic when it comes to your strength."

Levi stares ahead, at the path he needs to take. Unconscious bodies are scattered around and he knows he has injured them enough that they won't wake up until next afternoon. And by then they'll already be arrested.

His eyes fall on the metal pan that shines silver in the moonlight. And he remembers how Mae was beating the heads of these already unconscious men, and then checking their pulse and eye.

"Should I carry this...weapon along? Or are we planning to forget it? He teases, as he walks towards it.

"Carry it." She mutters as she rests her chin a little above his clavicle.

"What were you even doing with this?"

"I was checking if those men are unconscious, what if they are just pretending to be unconscious and throw mud in your eyes later? I mean I would definitely try some trick like that... because obviously I don't have the strength or technique to go off without a ruse or a backup plan..." Her voice trails off. "I-I also got a knife for you... I thought it might help... It's a kitchen knife though. I went around knocking at the near buy houses, and asked them for help. They gave me whatever they could."

Levi can feel the mumble of her words against his skin. He can feel her heart beat rapidly against his back. And her warm breaths that softly graze the side of his face.

And he is so used to fighting for himself and for his survival, that this surprising behavior of hers is evoking emotions he has never experienced before. A pleasant sensation surges through his chest and his mood lightens, from the irksome fight he just had.

The world around him feels a little brighter, and a fuzzy feeling makes his heart flutter as her words echo in his head-

"I'm not leaving you here alone to get beaten and robbed."

"You don't need to act all cool and heroic... I'm staying, we'll figure out something together."

"I am not leaving you here, okay, just shut up, I'm trying to think."

He remembers the night when he first saw the stars with Isabel and Furlan.

They were nagging him about going on the expedition as well. They told him that they were together in this too, just like they had been in the underground, and he recalled how happy it made him... That was the first time someone told him they were with him.

And, this is the second.

Levi's gaze falls down to her feet that sway with every step he takes. And he internally chuckles at her weird antics.

This stupid shithead who shivered like she had just seen a titan at the sight of intimidating-looking weak asses. Also came back for him, with a pan and a knife, just 5 minutes after he'd told her to go home.

A small smile creeps up on his face, and his heart dances with joy at the selfless concern she has for him. After more than a year and a half of losing Farlan and Isabel, he finally feels wanted. Not just for his exceptional strength, but for the grumpy, awkward man that he is.

He has figured it out, his emotions. He is feeling happy because he feels looked after. The last two years have been so full of loneliness, since his friends had died. But now, after so long does he finally see a glimmer of hope... or it can just be because of how stupid she is sometimes, it almost funny.

'You are stupid and cocky, don't go up against 6 men taller than you.'........my ass.

Yeah, to be honest, he hasn't completely figured out that fuzzy feeling yet, but that isn't really bothering him at the moment. For once his mind doesn't feel tormented by his past or the future. And he just relishes in the cool night, the warmth of her skin and the exhilaration that overwhelms his body today.

Mae's head perks up as Levi enters the familiar lane where her house is situated.

She glances at the door longingly. It looks bigger and bigger as Levi walks towards it. And oh! how badly she just wants to hide in there and never come out because of her embarrassment.

In no time, Levi is right in front of it, squatting down again, and she quickly gets off his back.

"Thank you Levi," Mae mumbles, as she walks towards the door, without throwing him a glance or showing him her face. And Levi knows the usually high-spirited girl isn't back by how low her voice sounds.

She never bids him off like that. There's always a smile on her face, as she waves her hand with enthusiasm. And she doesn't step inside her house again, until she sees his figure retreating away, fading behind the house at the end of the street.

His hand reaches forward and latches on to hers. Fingers wrapping around her wrist. They are strong yet gentle, and they don't let her move any further.

She turns around at the gesture. But her head is still bowing down, and Levi doesn't know why she won't look at him.

He wants her to look at him. He wants to see her smile before he walks back to the headquarters.

"Oi you okay?" His hand still lingers on her wrist, and then slowly it roves down her skin. Fingers sliding down her knuckles, to the white ends of her nails.

But Mae's gaze is still fixed on the floor, and she just slightly nods her head, up and down. Conveying a yes.

Obviously, Levi doesn't buy it. Gingerly, he places his thumb under her chin, and lifts her head upwards.

Her eyes are glossy, sparkling with unshed tears. And her nose is still red and puffy. Warmth fills his chest again, as he looks at her face. And Levi knows he's bad with communication, but he thinks he will explode if he doesn't get this feeling out of his system.

"Thank you, for staying by my side and coming back for me." He speaks softly. And even in the quiet night, his voice is low, just loud enough for her to hear. Because the words are only meant for her ears.

"You don't t-think I just messed everything up a-and caused you more trouble?" she stumbles over her words, and insecurity floods her again.

The corners of his lips twitch upwards into a curve. And in an instant he looks ten times younger. A small crinkle forms below his right eye. And Mae stands frozen at the beautiful sight in front of her.

Levi is smiling and it is absolutely heart-stopping. And she holds in a breath as she realizes this is the first time she has ever seen him smile.

She can't help the faint curve of her own lips, as she looks at him. He's smiling at her, and that itself makes her so happy.

"No, you did well," he pats her head, and she relishes in his touch.

A small sparkle flickers in her eyes, and her smile widens. He doesn't think she's irritating and burdensome, he doesn't think she's stupid and useless, and that's all the reassurance she ever needs.

No words are exchanged, but it's a beautiful moment. Filled with genuine smiles and warm gestures.

The moon gleams in the dark, its silver hue present everywhere. Levi's heart runs at a 100 miles per hour and he blames it on the sudden adrenaline rush during the fight.

Mae smiles in front of him and he never thought that he had the power to make anyone so happy. After all his hands have only spread terror and pain, wherever her went.

And as Levi looks at her elated face, he realizes he hasn't been this happy in a long time as well.

Author's note:

ITS FINALLY HAPPENING! (The fall in the chapter title is related to Levi not Mae.)

This was one of the first chapters I wrote for this fic.

I started writing the story in feb last year, and those days I would write and publish 700 word chapters everyday on wattpad. Obviously I was trying but the writing was pretty shitty. Then I decided to unpublish it and just have the entire story planned out before I start publishing the chapters.

The plot became clear in my head, and then I would write chapters randomly depending on my mood because I knew what was happening in each chapter. So this was actually the first chapter that I wrote and LIKED. I saw an improvement in my writing, but yet back then it was only at 1500 words and left incomplete.

And obviously I edited quite a lot of stuff when I added in more details during winter last year. Now its at 6.6 k lol.

I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is obviously very appreciated. If anyone at any point feels disappointed with something, I'd like to know about that as well. Because I like listening to different opinions.

Thank you for reading! See you next Sunday.

Taglist: @keijikunn

#levi ackerman #levi #levi x oc #levi x reader #levifanfic #romance #romance fanfiction #fluff #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman fluff #levi fluff #levi ackerman angst #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snklevi #snkfic #aot fic #levi ackerman x fem!reader #levi ackerman imagine #aot #levi ackerman headcanons #attack on titan #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #levi fanfiction #grumpy and sunshine #slow burn #strangers to friends to lovers #oc x canon #fanfic

[spicykiwiis]

Late Night Café (pt. 1)

Summary: The streets of New York seem to change at night, and Bucky gets drawn in to the little café with strange work hours during a heavy storm. Lucky for him you really don't mind that he's drenched head to toe.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warning: None :)

Word Count: 2k

Series Masterlist

New York City completely changes at night.

Maybe it’s the lack of sunlight. Although these past few days have been pretty bleak, with rain forming puddles that cover the sides of the road and splash onto the sidewalk anytime a car drives by. Not that the sidewalks weren’t already wet though, this heavy rain hasn’t been forgiving, and not an inch of outside New York remains dry. Still though, even when the city hasn’t seen sunlight for what feels like forever now, the ambiance still shifts when it gets fully dark. It’s not that there’s a lack of people keeping it lively, no. I don’t think there’s ever going to be a point where the streets of New York have no people on them. Maybe it’s the type of people that are out. Surely that girl that walks by every early morning with her dog wagging its tail beside her is not the same girl that walks by at four in the morning with her heels in one hand and a beer in her other, bumping shoulders with her friends as they walk back from a night out.

You’d think with all the people that are out and about during those late nights in the city, some type of noise or chaos would follow them, but no. At some point in the night it always gets quiet, almost like a sense of stillness that slowly creeps up on you as the moon climbs up higher in the sky. And with that sense of stillness comes a sense of peace that covers the little café that lits up the dim streets of New York.

There’s a small sign on the door that says open 7am-6pm and then again 1am to 5am. It’s a weird schedule for a small local café to have, but still the little bell that hangs at the top of the door doesn’t cease to chime during those dark hours. It’s normally students that come in so late at night, looking for a caffeine boost that will help them get through those assignments that they’ve left for the last minute. There’s the insomniacs too though, and those always seem to be the same regular customers that have their orders ready for them when they stop by, like a sort of routine that gets created over time.

It’s been more quiet than normal the past few days though - heavy rain really seems to stop people from leaving the warmth of their apartments, no matter how sleep deprived they might be. The clock’s already at 2:34am, and if it were a normal day you would’ve already made and served at least 5 coffees. Even old Mike hadn’t shown up like he usually did every night at around 1:40, and now his mug stays empty and unused in the shelf, making you extremely aware of the absence of customers. You understand though, the rain is hitting extra heavy tonight, and the water that cascades down the windows makes the streetlights look distorted and blurry. No sane person would think to be out on the streets with this weather, but still you leave the small café open, busying yourself by wiping down a few tables and cleaning a few mugs and dishes Alfie from the dayshift had probably forgotten to clean.

The playlist you always played during these late shifts played quietly in the background, the smooth 40s jazz making you sway slightly side to side as you set the now clean dishes aside to dry. As much as you love serving customers, these rare empty nights are always appreciated from time to time, even if sometimes you can slowly feel loneliness creep up on you. You pushed those feeling down though, and right as you were about to step foot on the kitchen the small chime of the bell you had grown to appreciate over the years stopped you, catching you slightly off-guard.

It was a tall man that had just come in through the door. His short hair was completely drenched and was sticking down on his forehead, water droplets falling down his face. The black leather jacket he had on was completely wet, but lucky for him the impermeable material probably stopped the water from getting to the shirt he had underneath. He brought up a gloved hand and pushed back his hair, careful to not get anything wet.

“Sorry I- I don’t want to make a mess. I don’t have an umbrella and this was the only place open” his voice caught you off-guard, it’s softness making you relax your shoulders. You hadn’t noticed how tense you’d gotten, but a man his size coming in at almost 3 in the morning during a night like this would get anyone on edge. The hard look in his eyes had completely disappeared when he noticed and spoke to you, and you were glad about it.

“Oh please! Don’t worry, come in. Weather’s rough tonight. You can take a seat wherever.”

A small smile appeared on his face and disappeared as soon as it came, but you didn’t miss the look of relief on his face as he took a seat on one of the stools placed behind the main counter. You still took notice of how careful he was of not getting anything else wet, which was nice.

“What can I get you?” you smiled as you grabbed the little notepad clipped to your apron, ready to take his order.

“Uh- just a black coffee’s fine. Thank you.”

You nodded and walked over to the coffee maker, making sure everything was in order before making his coffee. He kept his jacket and gloves on, which slightly concerned you since he was drenched in water and probably freezing. You waited for the coffee to be made and watched from the corner of your eyes as he looked around the small café, stopping to look at all the doors in it for slightly longer periods of time. He seemed to be alert, but after a couple looks around the place he finally settled down completely.

The coffee machine came to a stop and you grab one of the mugs you had just cleaned, filling it to the top and grabbing a clean rag along the way as you went to serve it to him.

“Here’s your coffee. And here’s a clean rag if you want to dry yourself off a bit. Sorry I don’t have any towels on hand right now, I’d give you one if I did.” You placed the coffee in front of him and the rag next to it, smiling as he looked up to meet your eyes.

“Thank you.” He took the rag and brought it up to his hair, rubbing it to get rid of the excess water. “I’m sorry again- about the mess.”

You reassured him it was fine, that he didn’t even make a mess. It was only the entrance that had gotten wet, nothing a couple swipes with the mop could fix.

He still kept his gloves on even when holding the hot cup of coffee between his hands, but you decided not to question anything and went back to working. Most of the customers that came in during the late nigh shifts weren’t there to have a conversation anyways, just there to have something to drink and think about their lives. It was always interesting to see. There’s a lot of characters that come in so late at night, and working there you end up learning how to read people very well.

This guy though – he was hard to read. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, but you could tell he was still alert about what was going on around him. It was safe to say you hadn’t gotten a customer like him in the years you had been working here, and yet there was something weirdly comforting about his brooding presence. With the smooth jazz paying in the background, he seemed to belong there.

“Weird time for a café to be open.”

His deep voice catches you of guard again, he certainly didn’t seem like the type to come in and make conversation.

“Weird time to be drinking black coffee.” You replied back with amusement, both of you turning to look at the clock hanging on the wall to the left. 3:22am.

“Touché.”

He took a sip of his coffee and watched as you grabbed another clean mug and a tea bag, turning on the kettle that was next to the coffee machine. He seemed to be up for some distraction, so you spoke up again.

“So, what’s a guy like you doing walking around under pouring rain? With no umbrella too.”

“A guy like me?”

“I asked first. You can’t answer a question with another question.” You smiled in amusement, watching as he sat up on his stool. He looked at your face, and stayed silence for a few seconds. It was as if he was taking you in, deciding whether or not he wanted to have this conversation with you.

“Apartment felt crowded. Got too far out before I realised it was raining.”

“Wow. Must’ve been really deep in your thoughts if you didn’t notice yourself getting drenched.”

He shrugged and took another sip of his coffee, eyes wandering to the side. Taking in the empty tables that were scattered along the place. The café was small, so there where only three tables along with the six stools that were placed in a row along the counter. Plants covered most of the place, and if you paid close attention you could smell the fresh and somewhat sweet scent they gave off. He changed the subject.

“I am curious though. I’ve never seen small cafés like this open so late.”

“You’d be surprised at the amount of people that stop by. Some people just need an escape late at night that sleep can’t give them.” The corners of his mouth turned up at this, almost like he knew exactly what you were talking about. “And students. Sleep deprived students that leave their assignments to the last minute sure do keep the business alive.”

He let out a chuckle at this comment, and for a second your breath got caught on your throat. There was no denying this man was extremely handsome, and something about his laugh gave you a weird feeling at the pit of your stomach.

“Late Night Café. It’s a fitting name.”

“Funny enough there were no night shifts when we started. Figured we should stay true to the name though, and here we are.”

It seemed like the rain was slowly starting to cease now. The loud noise of the water hitting the window glass was slowing down, and the streets were starting to look clearer now that the rain was not constantly washing down the glass.

“You’re in luck, it looks like the rain is starting to slow down.” You nodded to the glass and he turned his head, taking in the way the once pouring water turned into water droplets that slid down it. He let out a hum in response.

Now that the rain had slowed down, a couple other customers appeared through the door, bell chiming each time they walked through the door. You could see him taking in the people that came through, listening to their orders and watching as you moved around getting the orders ready. He had asked for a refill in the middle of this, and you smiled as you poured more hot coffee into his empty mug. As much as you liked the empty nights, there was something about serving the people that came through that made you feel peaceful. It was like second nature to you.

“You really seem to be in your element.” He spoke again as you cleaned the mug of a customer that had just left, and you smiled in content.

“Been doing this for a long time now.”

You took in his state now, noticing how his hair was completely dry now and his leather jacket no longer had water droplets sliding off it. He seemed to be less alert now too, maybe because he had taken in the whole café now. As you went to set down the mug you just cleaned he looked at the clock, noticing it was already almost four in the morning. You watched as he stood up from his stool.

“I should probably get going. Thanks for the coffee. And the shelter too.” He placed a twenty-dollar bill on the table besides his coffee mug and gave you a small smile getting ready to leave.

“Woah- wait. Coffee here’s definitely not that expensive. Let me get your change.” You went over to the cash register, but he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it, keep the change. Consider it an apology for getting the place wet.”

“I can’t let you do that; you didn’t even make a mess-”

“Really it’s okay. I won’t take the change if you give it to me.” He smiled once again, placing his hands on his leather jacket pockets to stop you from trying to place the change in his hands.

“Okay fine – but let me at least give you something for the way back.”

He wanted to say no, but you were adamant on this, so you grabbed one of the savoury pastries that you had on display and placed it on a takeaway bag for him, smiling in achievement when he took the small paper bag. He smiled at you, saying a quick bye as he left through the door, bell chiming and leaving the café feeling more quiet than ever.

You soon realised that you never got his name, and part of you wished that you had asked, even if that was something you never asked to new customers. Besides, who knows if he’ll ever stop bye again. You were grateful for the heavy rain now, and little did you know he was too, because thanks to it he found out about the little café lighting up that dark street of New York.

******

A/N: Hey! I haven't written anything in what feels like years, let alone post anything. I hope yall like this, i might turn it into a series, i'll have to see if inspiration hits. Anyways thanks for reading!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #late night café #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x reader #marvel #the falcon and the winter soldier #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier

[hollandbaby]

roommates - t.h smut

a/n: um so i haven’t written in a long time pls be kind. this is just a 4.9k one shot based on how i’m feeling, sexually frustrated, but unfortunately I’m not in lockdown with tom so cannot have sex with him. also I’m tipsy. AND feedback is much appreciated

warnings; smut, oral (f receiving), daddy kink, choking, biting, scratching, super long intro

You had lived with your lifetime best friend, Tom, for just over a year now, alongside his best friends Harrison and Tuwaine and his younger brother Harry. There was never a dull moment in the house, even when Tom’s away filming the other boys provide just as much entertainment. You’re used to spending lots of time with the boys, but when it’s announced lockdown was in place, it took a toll on everyone. Tom is unable to work which is a benefit considering he’s allowed to actually rest finally, plus he’s around a lot more which is nice. Harrison is always practicing his juggling which is entertaining until he breaks your favourite lamp. Tuwaine and Harry tends to keep to themselves, mostly playing video games or working from home. But boy was the house becoming messy. 

“Alright, who’s underwear are these and why are they on the living room floor!?” You shout to the house, picking up the pants by the broom you had in your hand.

“Whadda they look like?” Shouts Harry, most likely on his laptop editing something.

“Grey Calvin’s but I know all of you own at least one pair so it’s not very helpful!”

You move to put them in the laundry basket by the washing machine, carrying on with your cleaning by sweeping the kitchen floor. Tom emerges from the bathroom, in just a pair of grey sweats and a towel wrapped around his neck, you try not to let yourself get distracted but it’s hard when you can see a single drop of water make its way down his toned, bronzed torso.

“Sorry, love, I think they may be mine,” he chuckles as he goes to fill the kettle for a cup of tea. He leans against the kitchen island, drying off his hair with his towel.

“What the fuck are they doing in the communal living room?” You ask, laughing as well. Living with boys may be hard sometimes due to the mess and the fact they’re all super dumb, but it’s so endearing and you have good times.

“I dunno, I probably threw them at one of the boys as a joke.” Tom giggles to himself but you roll your eyes.

“Well next time you throw your dirty laundry at someone pick it up after, doofus.” You chuckle, walking past Tom to head to your room for your wash bag before going for a shower. You turn the shower on and start to undress. You found yourself thinking about Tom, and the way he looked after his shower earlier, his wet curly hair all floppy and cute, water droplets falling onto his broad chest and toned abs. You’d never really thought about him sexually before, obviously he’s an attractive man and you’ve been close friends with him since you were kids, he knows you better than anyone, but you’d never realised just how hot he is. Maybe it was because you hadn’t had sex in over a month due to lockdown or maybe it’s because you’ve been able to spend more time with Tom recently, but there’s a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach that stretches all the way down to your core. You bite your lip, stepping under the hot water, steam filling the bathroom as you try to wash away your sins.

You’re cooking dinner for everyone, Harrison, Harry and Tuwaine playing some game in the living room and Tom is just watching, laughing along with them. Tom looks over the sofa to you, watching your movements for a second before getting up off the sofa and walking to the kitchen.

“Need any help, darlin’?” He asks, as you chop up some vegetables.

“You can chop up some onions with me?” You smile at him, and he gets a feeling in the pit of his stomach. You both continue chopping and cooking the meal, Tom drinking beer and you wine as you both dance around the kitchen and giggle and sing with each other. You call the boys into the dining area, serving up dinner and grabbing drinks for all the boys. As you turn from the fridge to place the beers on the counter, Tom is already stood behind you, making you jump. He grabs your waist to steady you, and you’re grateful you didn’t drop any of the bottles.

“Sorry, love,” he chuckles as your face heats up, a mixture of the fact Tom’s warm hands are still on your waist and you just had a close call to a very messy and classy clean up.

“S’okay, I’m just glad I didn’t drop any of these! The boys would kill me,” you pop open all the bottles, attempting to grab them along with your bottle of wine AND glass.

“Woah there, darling, I’ll grab those for you,” Tom takes three of the bottles from you, letting out a breathy laugh at your disgruntled facial expression, your bottom lip slightly jutted out and hair falling in your face.

“Thank you,” you smile and pick up your wine and glass, following Tom’s lead back to the table.

The boys are all chatting away, dishing up their dinners as you and Tom place their beers down in front of them.

“Thank you so much for cooking, Y/N, we’ll wash up.” Harrison says, smiling at you.

“Will we?” Tuwaine chimes in, looking confused.

“Bro shut up.” Harry says, you roll your eyes but you’re laughing alongside them.

“Well maybe after dinner, and after Haz, Harry and Tuwaine wash up, we can do something together?” You suggest, sipping your wine before munching some more.

“Sounds good. What did you have in mind?” Asks Tom, eager to spend some time with you.

“Well we could all play some card games or a board game?”

And that’s how you end up drunkenly giggling at 1AM over monopoly.

“How the fuck did I get go to jail again?!”

“Unlucky Baz man, looks like you’re in jail again,” you giggle, moving his figurine to the jail space.

“How are you doing so well at this game Y/N? It’s like you’re the monopoly mastermind,” Harrison asks, slurring the M’s slightly.

“I dunno man I used to play a lot with my family, plus it’s a game of chance.”

“Well it’s a fucking stupid game of chance,” Harry chimes in, pouting at the fact he has to miss a go.

“Shut up, dickhead, you love this game,” Tom grabs Harry by his shoulders and puts him in a headlock, ruffling his hair.

“Tom!” Harry exclaims, thrashing around. He kicks the board, knocking all the houses and hotels and cards everywhere.

“Harry!” shouts Harrison, clearly angry at the fact he’s lost his place and cannot for the life of him remember where it was.

“Oh my god you’re all idiots,” you laugh, Tuwaine exclaiming a “hey don’t put me in that category with them!”

You finish the last gulp of your wine before attempting to stand up to grab another bottle. You steady yourself on Tom’s shoulder before heading over to the fridge. You can feel his eyes on you as you pour yourself some more wine, but he quickly looks away when you turn back around. The lads are all laughing together on the floor, sipping beers and being stupid.

“What’re you all laughing at?” You ask, smiling, as you go to join them on the floor, Tom’s hand gently grabbing yours to help you sit.

“Harry’s suggesting we play never have I ever,” Tuwaine laughs.

“It wasn’t just me! Harrison suggested it I just said sure why not!”

“God you’re all a bunch of kids. Alright, are we playing or not?” You ask, getting confident from the booze.

“I know I suggested it but the room is spinning so much right now I think I’m gonna throw up,” Harrison states, hiccuping.

“Wow, good one genius. Alright, let’s get you to bed. Night all,” Tuwaine gets up, picking Haz up in the process and wrapping his arm around his waist, guiding Harrison to his room before making his way to his own.

“Aaaand I’d rather go to bed than stay up for whatever weird shit is gonna happen between you two,” Harry says standing up and chugging the rest of his beer, “peace out.”

“And then there were two,” Tom chuckles, starting to pack away the long forgotten monopoly board. You help him, placing pieces in their respective compartments and giggling with each other.

“So how about that game of never have I ever?” You ask biting your lip. You look at Tom to find he’s already looking at you, cheeks flushed and a curl falling into his face.

“Sure,” he chuckles breathily, “I’ll just grab another beer.” You smile to yourself as you watch Tom walk to the kitchen, biting your lower lip as you realise you shouldn’t be staring at his ass as he walks away. Tom returns to the living room, you’ve moved onto the sofa now, put some music on and your feet up on the coffee table in front of you. He plops down on the sofa next to you and smiles, taking a swig of his beer.

“Alright. Never have I ever pissed my pants from laughing,” Tom chuckles to himself as you slap his chest.

“That was ONE time and it was a TINY amount!” You huff, taking a swig of your drink. You smirk as you pull your legs up onto the sofa, turning to face Tom. “Never have I ever tried to impress a girl by doing a backflip but it ending up awfully badly and I broke my wrist.”

“For fucks sake,” Tom throws his head back and groans, taking a swig of his drink. “She still went on a date with me though, I assume out of pity. Okay, ummm, never have I ever had sex in a park.” He’s smirking this time, knowing full well you definitely had.

“I was 16 and fucking stupid. Guy was a douche anyway. Okay never have I ever, been walked in on.” You laugh at this one. Harrison loved telling the story of the time he walked in on Tom and some girl he’d brought home from a bar.

“For fucks sake, I wish everyone would stop bringing that one up.” He drinks, keeping eye contact with you. “Never have I ever had sex with a roommate,” he licks his lips, watching as you take another sip of your wine. “How’s that even happen?”

“You know the story, Tom, I had to move out because of how awkward it got.” You frown at him, these never have i evers we’re getting too real. “Okay, never have I ever had phone sex.” You watch Tom roll his eyes and take a swig of his beer.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never had phone sex?”

“No, what’s the point when I could just have sex with someone?”

“What if you’re far away from someone you’re dating and can’t go see them? I was working on set you know.”

“I know that! These are to try and get you drunk Mr Holland that’s the aim of the game,” you smile at him, “your turn.”

“Never have I ever,” he trails off, lips pursing as he thinks of one to say, “never have I ever had a threesome.”

You pause for a second, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinting wondering if he knew you’d had a threesome before or if he was just curious. Either way, you take a sip of your drink.

“Now, this I’ve got to hear,” Tom’s smirking, an eyebrow raised as he waits for the story.

“I thought you knew! Oh, god. So it was my first year of uni, I was fresh out of a bad relationship, exploring my options etc you know. I start having sex with this guy regularly, just causal stuff no feelings involved. One day he comes round, then this girl calls him and he asks if she can come for drinks too. Obviously I say yes because I’m already tipsy and open to anything. She comes round, we end up drinking 3 bottles of wine each and it just, happened.” You look to Tom, after taking a sip of your wine, your cheeks flushed but it’s nothing compared to the look of shock on Tom’s face. He’s aroused at the idea but he won’t let you know that. His mouth is agape, then he licks his lips and smirks.

“Wow who knew you were crazy like that?”

You slap his chest, “shut up! I bet you’ve been up to some crazy stuff. I’m surprised you’ve not had a threesome yet.”

“I’m not the type of man to share, darling.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Besides, it was a foursome.”

“Ahhh and there it is.” You roll your eyes and smile, finishing off your drink. “Be a darling and grab my bottle from the fridge please, Tommy?” He tuts at your demand, nevertheless standing and going to grab your bottle. He grabs himself another beer too. You smile and thank him as he fills your glass, putting the bottle on the floor in case you need a refill. “I miss sex. That’s the worst part about all this shit.”

“Oh, totally agree. Stupid lockdown.” Tom sighs, sitting back down on the sofa next to you. You place your glass on the coffee table, turning to face Tom fully, resting your arm on the back of the sofa.

“What if we had sex?”

Tom spits his drink out, coughing and spluttering, getting his spat beer all over his white t shirt. “Shit. Um, what?”

“C’mon, we’re both adults with needs, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. Just a one time thing, a favour, to release all the sexual frustrations we’re both clearly experiencing since we don’t have dick or pussy on tap at the moment.” You pick your wine back up, taking a long swig before continuing. “I could just give you a blowie and we can go our separate ways.”

“Y/N, we live together. You said last time you did something like this it didn’t end well.”

“That was only a bad idea with my past roommate because he became obsessed with me after. Tom, we don’t have to do it it was just a suggestion.” You don’t know if it’s because the alcohol has given you a load of confidence or if it’s because you’ve not had sex in a long time but what you do know is that Tom is very attractive, especially when he runs his hand through his floppy curls, his white shirt tightening around his bicep. You lick your lips as your eyes rake up and down his body. You meet his brown eyes, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip.

“Conditions?”

“We can do whatever you want. My only condition is, we need a safe word. Actually, that and we probably shouldn’t tell the others what happened.”

“Agreed. Safe word can be pineapple.”

“Pineapple?” You laugh, leaning closer to Tom. You can smell his cologne, and it’s absolutely divine.

“I dunno. It was the first thing that came to mind.” He leans closer into you as well. “What’re you into?” His eyes flick to your lips and back up to your eyes.

“Hair pulling, biting, scratching, choking, spanking, call me babygirl or a good girl and I’m a goner. You?”

“Same, but call me Tommy or baby. Maybe daddy as well, depends how rough we’re going I guess.”

You put your glass back on the coffee table after finishing your wine, moving to straddle Tom’s lap. “Okay, Tommy, looks like we’re doing this.” You move in, testing the waters, eyes flickering between Tom’s and his lips. You can already feel the heat in your core and the wetness in your panties, your thin shorts barely protecting you from the feeling of Tom’s arousal in his grey sweats. He caves first, crashing his lips against yours and moving them oh so deliciously against your own. Your eyes instantly shut, your hands combing through his hair before gripping onto his brunette curls. Tom lets his empty bottle drop onto the sofa, long forgotten as his own hands move to your hips. His tongue experiments by licking your top lip, asking for entrance which you more than gladly grant him. Your tongue dances against his, your hips subconsciously grinding against his already hard cock. You let out a rough, breathy moan into his mouth, Tom’s hands moving to your ass, feeling the skin that your shorts don’t cover. He pulls back, panting and lips glossy and red.

“Your room or mine?”

“Whichever’s closest.” You kiss him again, letting out a slightly startled noise as he stands, picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, hands gripping onto his shoulders whilst his are gripping your ass. You peck his lips, kissing down his neck as he walks you to his room. It’s closest to the living room and nearest to the bathroom so it’s a win win for you. You open Tom’s door for him, he almost drops you when you do but luckily you grip back onto him, accidentally scratching his back. Tom lets out a hiss, but it’s not with pain, more so pleasure at the feeling of your nails digging into him. It makes him wonder how amazing your nails will feel scratching down his back while he’s fucking into you. He throws you on his bed, and you briefly note how clean and tidy his room is considering he’s so chaotic. Tom removes his (slightly damp with beer) shirt and is on top of you in an instant, his lips meeting yours again in a messy kiss, teeth and tongue in the mix. You wrap your legs around his waist, his hips grinding down into your own as your hands rake through his hair, tugging on tufts as you sloppily kiss. He pulls away, his lips moving down to your neck and nipping and sucking there. You let out a moan, your eyes rolling back as Tom’s mouth works wonders on you. Your hips buck up into his and his hand moves from the bed to your body, trailing down your neck and chest to the hem of your vest top, tugging on it as a signal for you to take it off. You listen, moving your arms down to the hem to rip your top off, Tom instantly moving down your body, his lips kissing your chest before his hand moves round to your back and unclasps your bra. He pulls it off you, his mouth making its way to your nipple as his eyes look up into yours. You scrunch your eyebrows in pleasure, biting your bottom lip as you moan lowly. You don’t even notice Tom’s hand trailing down your body until it reaches your clothed pussy, your hips instantly jerking up to meet his hand. A mixture of Tom’s tongue on your nipple and his fingers rubbing your clit through your shorts is giving you a feeling you’ve not felt in a while. Yes you’ve been getting yourself off but there’s something so different about someone else’s touch that feels so fucking amazing.

“Do you know how fucking hot you look in these shorts, baby? I’ve wanted to rip them off you all evening.” Tom moans out, he can feel your wetness through the material.

“Do it, then.” You smirk, but your breath is hoarse and raspy. You let out a gasp as Tom practically rips your shorts from your body, along with your underwear. He wastes no time moving down your body, lips leaving a wet trail of kisses on your scorching skin. Hiking your legs up so your feet are flat on the bed, he kisses your hips, then down your left thigh, as your hands make their way to his hair. Tom looks up into your eyes as he licks closer and closer to your wet pussy, his mouth hovering over you, causing you to grind your hips up in an attempt to meet his tongue. He finally ends the torturous teasing, gently licking his tongue through your folds and to your clit, you throw your head back and let out a soft ‘oh, fuck’. Tom’s fingers make their way up your body, gently teasing your nipple as his tongue massages your clit, your hips meeting his movements as you let out small, breathy moans.

“Fuck, Tom, fingers please,” your voice is broken and still raspy, but Tom makes eye contact with you again and the moan you let out is much louder than before. You throw your head back again, writhing against him.

“What do want, baby girl? Hm? Want my fingers inside you?” His breath is cool against your warm skin, his eyes searching for yours.

“Yes!” You attempt to buck your hips up again but Tom’s hands hold them in place.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please, daddy!” Your voice is broken and your attempt to keep quiet is ineffective. Tom moves his right hand from your hip, his tongue returning back to your clit as he slowly pumps a finger into you, curling it up to reach your g spot. He has you writhing beneath him, adding another fingers stretching you out as his tongue laps at your clit, your hands grip his hair as you grind against his mouth, breathy moans escaping your lips. You bite your lip as your eyes roll to the back of your head, you figured Tom would be good in bed but, god, he was so much better than you expected.

“I’m close, Tommy,” he all but growls into your pussy at the nickname, fingers picking up speed as he sucks on your clit gently. One of your hands flies up to your face, biting down on your arm to stop yourself from letting out an extremely loud moan as you cum. Tom slows his movements, helping you ride out your high. He removes his fingers from you, looking into your eyes as he licks them clean. You bite your lip and let out a soft groan at the sight of him, pulling him up to you so you can kiss his lips, allowing your tongue to massage his. You can taste yourself on him, only making you moan into his mouth as you kiss. You pull on his sweats, pushing them down his thighs along w his boxers. Tom pulls them the rest of the way off and you roll onto him, pinning him to the bed with your thighs. Your lips never leaving his in a sloppy, wet, tipsy kiss. You’re overwhelmed by his senses, his hot skin, his sexy scent, his soft curls and the way his teeth occasionally nibble on your bottom lip. You start grinding your hips against Tom’s hard cock, his hands flying to your hips as you do so.

“You’re so fucking wet for me aren’t you, baby girl?” Tom growls against your lips, feeling your wetness on his skin.

You moan against his lips, nodding your head, “do you have a condom?”

“Yeah, bedside table, 2nd drawer down.” You reach over him to the nightstand, retrieving a condom, opening it with your teeth before rolling it onto Tom’s cock. Tom lets out a hiss at the contact, throwing his head back and panting as your hand moves up and down him, before you lift up and slide down onto his cock. His hands instantly grab onto your ass, nails digging into the skin as you find a pace, adjusting to his size. He was bigger than you were expecting but, fuck, did it feel good. You pick up the pace, hips moving up and down as Tom’s hand moves from your ass cheek to your clit, using his middle finger to circle the bundle of nerves. He’s grunting with each move you make, and your head falls back as you continue riding him. He moves his other hand off your ass and brings it back down in a harsh slap, your skin jiggling and a sharp moan escaping your lips. He smirks up at you, your body dropping forward, hands moving to rest by his head as you keep the movements of your hips. He slaps your ass again, massaging the red skin there as you bite your lip, looking into his eyes. You reach your right hand to around his throat, gently squeezing. Something snaps in Tom at that, planting his feet on the bed to get leverage to thrust up into you, fucking you from underneath, he grabs a handful of your hair and fastens the pace of his fingers on your clit.

“Fuck, Tommy!” You moan, trying to keep quiet but it’s hard when he’s fucking you so good, the arch in your back allowing him to go deeper, creating a delicious feeling. “I want you to fuck me from behind.” You’re panting and your voice is quiet but Tom hears you loud and clear.

“Fuck, love, you’re so hot,” he pulls out, rolling you over onto your front, your arms reaching in front of you, chest on the bed as your knees widen and your ass is in the air, Tom slaps your ass as he moves behind you, sliding his hard cock between your fold and collecting your wetness before he thrusts back into you.

“Shit, you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” Another slap on your ass as he fucks into you, hands grabbing your hips for leverage.

“Yes, baby, keep fucking me like that!” You moan into the sheets. Tom reaches forward and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your back up against his torso, fucking up into you. His hand slides around to grip your throat as he continues fucking you, his lips leaving sloppy kisses on your neck and cheek. He nibbles on your ear lightly, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure. Tom’s other hand snakes it’s way around your waist down your body, his middle fingers circling your clit. Your head is resting on his shoulder, your hand coming round to pull on his hair as he continues fucking you, Tom’s grunts and groans right in your ear as his lips caress the skin there.

“So fuckin tight, baby, jesus,” Tom’s breath is hot on your neck leaving goosebumps all over your body as you moan at his words. “I want you to cum for me baby, can you do that?”

“Yes, Tommy, I’m so close,” you groan, but Tom pulls away completely. You’re shocked and disgruntled before you realise he’s throwing you on your back, spreading your thighs and thrusting back into you. You grab his shoulders, nails digging in as Tom fucks you, harder than before. Your moans are muffled by the skin of his shoulder, you bite down on his skin, sucking, most likely leaving a mark but you don’t care, too consumed with the fire in your stomach as your orgasm approaches.

“Rub my clit, please,” you breathe out, one of Tom’s hands moving from your thigh to between your legs, resuming his movements on your clit from before. He fucks you in a rhythm, your nails scratching down his back as he does so, Tom’s hair is falling in his face and tickling yours but you don’t care, he looks so hot like this, sweaty and panting above you. Your toes curl and your pussy clenches around him, his cock pounding into you, and it’s like nothing you’ve felt before.

“I’m gonna cum, Tommy!” You throw your head back, letting out a moan as Tom’s fingers rub your clit faster and he fucks you harder, his lips crashing against yours as you reach your high. Tom follows shortly after, sloppily thrusting into you as he cums in the condom. Tom collapses on top of you, your breathing steadying as you play with his hair. After a minute, he pulls out and discards of the condom, flopping onto the bed beside you, opening his arm to you so you can roll into his side.

“Well, that was ... wow,” you sigh contentedly. Your breathing is starting to slow down and a wave of exhaustion hits you. You rest your head on Tom’s bare chest, one of his fingers curling a piece of your hair around it.

“Oh, god yeah it was, something else.” He chuckles, pressing a light peck to your forehead.

“I should probably go to the bathroom then back to my room.” You sigh, you don’t want to move though. You’re absorbing Tom’s warmth and it feels so good. You roll off of his chest, pulling his t shirt from off the floor and sliding it on. Tom sits up as you go to collect your things, “you could stay in here tonight? I mean, sex isn’t the only thing I miss.” His face is flush and he smiles sheepishly at you. You smile back and bite your lip, leaning back onto the bed to peck his nose before heading off to the bathroom. Tom thinks you’ve gone to bed, sighing in defeat and flopping back against his sheets. You go to clean up, making your way back to Tom’s room but not before grabbing another 2 bottles of beer first. You return to his room, smiling as you hand him a bottle. He laughs at you as he opens his beer, taking a sip before opening his arms to you, inviting you to sit with him on his bed. He’s got his boxers back on, duvet loosely wrapped around his hips, shifting while he moves. You sit back on the bed with him, taking a sip of your own beer. You both laugh and chat until you finish your drinks, lying down again and falling sleep curled up in Tom’s arms, his hand gently massaging your scalp as he places occasional pecks on your forehead. You realise that maybe this won’t be the last time as you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #also this isnt proofread lol #daddy!tom is a ducking loos tho

[sadaboutniall]

Without Fear

masterlist | tag | wattpad

hiya! since tomorrow is thanksgiving I thought it would be better for everyone if I posted this week’s chapter today! hope you like!

Chapter Two. February 

give me moonlight, and a smile from you that I can // that I can barely believe — dancing under red skies, dermot kennedy

It comes on slow, the way waves lap up against the shore late at night, when there aren’t many boats out to disrupt them. Over and over, bit by bit, it settles in. The first wave of it bites at Lu’s ankles when her toilet overflows at 6am, leaving her standing in her socks in the bathroom, soaking wet, worrying about the water leaking into the shop below, while Ruairí meows in concern from his spot atop the sink. Frantic, Lu calls her dad, and it goes to voicemail twice before she remembers it’s 1am in New York. 

Accompanied only by a YouTube tutorial and the rising sun, Lu manages to fix the mess, shower, and start the day all on her own. Her dad calls back five hours later, and Lu feels like she’s lived a whole lifetime between then and now. 

The second wave of it has more venom. She sleeps in on a Sunday—the only day the shop is closed—stirring around 10 because Ruairí is relentless, screeching in her ear, kneading at her belly, desperate for something to eat. Mindless, she feeds him, freshens up his water, makes herself a cup of coffee, pulls out a pastry leftover from Siobhan’s bake the day before, and settles into a spot by the window of her flat, overlooking the sea, all before thinking to take a look at her phone. 

Even if she goes 12 hours without looking at her phone, Lu finds she doesn’t miss much these days—she left home on a whim, without a ton of fanfare, and knows full well that she isn’t putting in the effort she should to keep in touch with friends from home. She also knows that’s why she left.

So, most mornings, she wakes up to a few messages in the family group chat, a message or two from her best friend Georgia, and not much else. This morning, it’s different. 

208 texts. 12 missed calls. 

Lu’s stomach sinks like a stone. Her whole body heats up at once. Her hands start shaking and her heart starts hammering, all before she even manages to swipe open a single notification. 

She doesn’t even have the wherewithal to cycle through possibilities. Her brain, hitting overdrive from the start, has no question that it’s bad. 

In WhatsApp, Lu finds that her family group chat has 206 messages. She has one separate text from her dad, and a final separate text from her brother. Nothing from her mom. 

Shaking, she swipes open her dad’s first. On the counter, Ruairí is sniffing at a banana. 

Hi, love, his message says. Figured the number of messages in the group chat is overwhelming. We’re at the hospital with Sam now. All is well, the appendix is out and he’s resting. Mary’s with us, she got back from Honduras yesterday. Good timing. Give us a call when you get a chance. 

From her brother, Lu finds a selfie. He’s in a hospital bed, gown around his shoulders. He looks pale, dark circles around his eyes, but he’s okay—he’s smiling, giving the camera a thumbs up. Underneath, the message says I lived, bitch. 

Relief coursing through her, Lu lets out a shaky laugh. It’s scarily on-brand for Sam to pull out a meme at a moment like this. 

Slowly but surely, Lu’s heartbeat slows to its normal rate. As it does, she scrolls back through the messages from the night before: her brother raising the alarm that he had a pesky pain in his side, their mother, a doctor herself, urging him to get it checked out. There’s a moment where Sam says the doctor is sending him home, and another where their mom urges him to demand an ultrasound, just in case. He does, and they find the appendicitis. Lu shudders to think what would’ve happened had her mother been the one sleeping soundlessly an ocean away. 

It’s five am in New York. Lu figures they’re all shattered. Rather than call and risk waking everyone up after what was surely a late, long night, Lu shoots off a text to her dad, asking him to call her when they wake up and sending lots of love. She turns her ringer up all the way so she won’t miss anything else. She feels a million miles away. 

####

On February first, Lu wakes up in a cold sweat. It’s still dark outside, but that doesn’t mean much in a place where the sun doesn’t rise until nearly 9am. Still, Lu doesn’t even need to look at a clock to know it must be early: perched on the pillow next to her head, Ruairí is snoring gently, dead to the world, not yet ready to demand breakfast. 

Heart hammering, Lu gropes around the bed until her hand closes around her phone, cold. She squints, then sighs, as she checks the time.

4:45am. 

Lu is no stranger to waking up mid-panic attack. Sometimes, it feels like choking—like she can’t get a breath down deep enough, to pool in the bottom of her lungs. Other times, it feels like an unavoidable urge to get up, move, get as far away from the space she woke up in as physically possible. Right now, it feels like a stomach ache, period pains, itchy skin, her body trying to tell her that something, somewhere, is going terribly wrong. 

Logically, she knows it’s not. She holds her breath, five, four, three, two, one, and checks her phone as her heart jackrabbits away. Nothing out of the ordinary: her mom texted a picture of her glass of wine with dinner to the family group chat, her dad reported the score of a soccer game, her brother sent that he’d managed to run a full two miles today, his furthest since the appendectomy. Everything is fine. 

Except for Lu. 

There’s no use trying to go back to sleep; Lu knows herself better than that. Heart still working overtime despite reassurance, she slips out of bed as gently as she can, praying that she won’t wake Ruairí. She’s silent as she gets dressed and silent as she tiptoes out of her bedroom, out of the apartment, and down the stairs. The morning is still and dark, but you can hear for miles and miles on Inis Mór, and as she begins her walk the soft, familiar sounds of tractors roaring to life, cows mooing for their breakfast, sheep and goats bleating, remind Lu that she’s not the only one—that others are here too, alive, beginning their day, pushing on. Home. And underneath it all, there is, always, the sound of the waves, constant, crashing against the shore. 

####

Lu doesn’t get a chance to nap. She walks, balancing on the edge of the cliffs that overlook the Atlantic, breathing in the sea air and thinking about how the water here, crashing, violent against the cliffs below her is the same water that once lapped up on the shores of Long Island, of Coney Island, of the Rockaways, of home. Seagulls swoop, low and graceful, over her head, over the ocean, and Lu thinks that if she asked her dad to drop a floatie into the Atlantic for her it just might make it—just might wash up here, on the edge of the Earth, the way she has. 

She walks and walks—you can walk all the way around Inis Mór and back in under five hours, but she doesn’t have that kind of time. She walks along the cliffs, the white, blinding, otherworldly geology of the Burren, through the grass and the mud and the cow shit, until she’s back at the cafe, windows glowing golden against the rising sun, condensation clinging to them from the inside. Siobhan is pulling pastries out of the oven when she opens the door around 6:30, and Ruairí, curled up on the counter, looks at her, bitter. 

Siobhan smiles, “There you are. No worries, pet, I’ve fed him his breakfast.” 

She wobbles through the day, exhausted from the panic, the walk, the lack of sleep. She messes up at least two orders—gives Mrs. Duffy whole milk instead of skim, drops Mr. Kennedy’s sandwich on the floor while she’s bringing it over to him—but, as always, no one bats an eye. They touch her arm gently, lull “oh, it’s no bother, darling, we’ll make it right, now,” and the cadence of their laughter carries as she does exactly that. There’s no venom, no rush, nothing to give Lu the adrenaline she so badly needs to make it through the day. 

Somehow, she almost forgets that it’s Niall’s first day. But all of a sudden it’s twelve hours later and he’s bustling inside, bringing a rush of cold air with him. The door swings shut behind him and Lu, who had been curled up at the cushioned window seat with Ruairí on top of her in a moment of quiet, jumps. The cat’s only just forgiven her for this morning, and her movement causes him to stalk off in anger. She sighs after him.

“Oh, no,” Niall laughs a little, “sorry, did I interrupt something?” He looks soft and sweet in his dark jeans, his hat pulled low over his forehead. He’s shedding his puffer jacket to reveal a navy blue cable knit sweater and his cheeks are flushed from the cold. His eyes, bright and blue as Lu remembers them, find hers. He smiles. 

“Yeah,” Lu just about manages. “He just forgave me, you totally ruined it.”

Niall barks out a laugh, head thrown back, shoulders hunching up. “What did you do?” 

“Forgot to feed him breakfast this morning,” Lu sighs. “Siobhan did it, but he held it against me anyway.” 

“Ah, well,” Niall shrugs. “I’d be mad too, if I were a cat.” 

“S’a good thing you’re not, then,” Lu smiles. “I’m not here to feed you.” 

Niall’s still giggling. Lu wonders if he ever stops. 

“I’m thinking I might make him pupcakes or something as an apology…” Lu is rambling a bit now, but she’s so tired, and Niall’s so cute, and nothing is real here, anyway. “I know they’re for dogs but I can’t imagine they’re bad for cats? I bet he’ll like those—honestly, I bet he’ll just like knowing I slaved over a hot stove for him. It’s like he can tell, you know?” 

It wasn’t meant to be that funny, but Niall is fully cackling, crinkles by his eyes on full display, one hand clutching his tummy. “You’re funny,” he says between laughs. “A bit looney, me da would say—hey, Lu, looney, Looney Tunes. It all makes sense.” 

“Isn’t ‘looney’ offensive?” The banter with him comes so easily, Lu doesn’t let herself overthink it. “Think we’re supposed to stop using it.” 

“Ah, well,” Niall’s pulling his guitar out to tune, now, “You’re in Ireland now, love. All good nicknames are a little offensive.”

####

The night is mostly quiet, a dozen customers at the most, which Lu thinks is probably good for Niall’s nerves. He’s just as stunning as he was the night Lu first met him, pulling out an arsenal of covers ranging from Bruce Springsteen to Post Malone, somehow making them all work for his voice, for the vibe, for everyone, but he’s shaking—she can see it when he pushes his hair off his forehead, or when he drops his pick on the floor between songs, laughing awkwardly as he bends to grab it. Even with the mistakes, the dropped pick, the few stumbles over lyrics, he’s endearing, engaging, all-consuming. Lu’s meant to be working, but she can’t find it in her to look away.

From her spot at the counter, Lu watches how Niall keeps his eyes trained on the window across from him. He doesn’t seem to be looking for anyone or anything, but Lu suspects it’s easier than looking his audience in the eye—despite the fact that she can see for herself just how captivated they are. It shouldn’t take an hour and a half to drink one coffee and eat one slice of chocolate cake, but that’s how long old Mr. Kane spends in the shop anyway, eyes closed, listening to Niall play. 

For two full hours, Niall keeps the shop warm and alive. Everyone is so captivated that Lu barely has to work after all; she leans up against the counter instead, cradling the mug of hot chocolate that Siobhan made her before she left for the night, and taking him in. She barely knows him, and yet. 

Lu has seen plenty of nervous first-timers performing in front of apathetic crowds—it was practically her job, after all. She’s also seen more than her fair share of world class performers stunning crowds that want to eat them up, keep them on stage forever, bottle their energy and carry it through the rest of their lives. Working in the music industry, even just as an assistant, for five years turned her hard and jaded, made her feel like she’s seen the seedy, rough, rude underbelly of it all—but she’s never seen anyone perform like Niall before. His unadulterated, all consuming love for music is tangible, even from across the room. This is now Niall communicates. This is how he understands the world. This is how he sees life. Half of Lu feels lucky to hear it—the other half feels sick knowing that his talent is wasted here.

It almost makes her sad to have to close up at 9. Niall’s good about it—he’s designed his set to last exactly two hours, finds a climax in the middle with “Dancing in the Dark” and tapers his song choices toward a slow but steady ending, letting everyone know, without having to say it, that it’s time to head home. Lu doesn’t even have to ask him if he knows how to play “Closing Time.” 

Mr. Kane is the last to leave, sticking around a little after nine to shake Niall’s hand and tell him he had no idea how talented Maura’s son is. He talks about Maura—Lu assumes she must be Niall’s mom—while Lu slowly, quietly begins putting dishes away. She likes the routine of this already, Niall’s quiet voice, his booming laugh, his warm presence keeping her company while she settles down for the night. It’s something she could get used to. It’s something, the first thing, she thinks she could miss, if she left. 

Niall masterfully leads his conversation with Mr. Kane toward goodbyes, shaking his hand again as he shuts the door behind him. Lu looks up from where she was rinsing a cup to watch as Niall watches through the window to make sure Mr. Kane gets in his car. He waits for the car to start before turning around, leaning his back up against the door, dragging a hand through his hair, and letting out a long sigh. 

“Alright?” Lu asks, gentle. Niall’s got his eyes closed, his head back, neck exposed to her. It’s thick and littered with freckles, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. In her chest, Lu’s heart does something funny. She presses her thighs together, tight. 

Niall opens his eyes halfway, exhaling a little laugh as he meets Lu’s gaze. She hopes he can’t tell—how could he? 

“Yeah,” he says then, standing all the way up and shaking his head. “That was mad.” 

“It was amazing,” Lu counters. She gently places the mug back into the sink, bracing her hands against the edge. Part of her is afraid of what she’ll do without something between him and her. “They were so into it. No one could look away from you.”

Her cheeks flush, and Niall catches it. The corner of his mouth pulls up in half a smile as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Ya think so?” 

“I know so,” Lu presses her lips together, but it doesn’t do much to prevent her smile. “‘Dancing In The Dark’ was my favorite one; it’s perfect for your voice.” 

“Thanks, Looney Tunes,” Niall hums, making his way back over toward her. “Can I help ya clean up? I wash, you dry?”

“Oh,” Lu stills. She’d half forgotten about the dishes still left to clean, the floor to sweep, the leftovers to toss, the counters to wipe down. Her mind stumbles over the best way to go about this: it would be rude to keep him, but, God, she wants his company. She realizes, with a slight swoop in her belly, that she hasn’t felt homesick in two hours. She needs him to stay. “I actually—I have a dishwasher. I just like to rinse everything before I put it in.” 

Niall smiles. He comes around the counter to stand next to Lu at the sink, knocking his hip against hers. “Sensible,” he says. It’s quiet. Just for her. “I’ll rinse and put ‘em in. You’ve been stood here all night. What else do you have to do?” 

“Uh,” Lu feels like her whole body is vibrating. Her mind turns over itself like an engine that won’t start. “Sweep the floors, wipe down the counters, lock up.” 

“Alright,” Niall is so close that Lu can smell his aftershave. Warm, soft, mixed with sweat from his nerves and the smell of his skin. “Let’s do it.”

####

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[slaveformingi]

Midnight Adventure (M)

READER (y/n) X CHOI SAN (Ateez)

Genre:Smut, Car Sex, Public Sex(?) Word Count: 2180 words. Summary:  You were ready to call it a night but suddenly you receive a text from your boyfriend claiming to invite you on a midnight adventure. Knowing San, that adventure will definitely be... breath taking.

(Author’s Note: Fix On! So my last smut (Seonghwa X Reader X Mingi) got almost 200 notes, wtf? Thank you so much guys! It really gave me more motivation to write knowing that there are people out there reading my work 😭 Anyways, I hope you guys like this one as well. I always thought of San as someone who would like to do public sex and car sex, so yeah, that’s where the inspiration came from. Enjoy!”)

##

“Baby, how do you sleep when you lie to me?~~”

You sang quietly to yourself as the melody of the song played in the back of your head as you walked around your room, tidying it up a bit. You sang softly, trying your best not to bee too loud since it was almost 1am and you didn’t want to wake up your parents who were sleeping in the room next to yours.

You neatly placed your textbooks on your table and proceeded to make your way to your bed, to catch at lease a few hours of sleep before you needed to wake up for school.

3 more days left till school is over and you couldn’t wait for it to end so you could sleep in and not have to worry about exams or needing to do any homework.

You were even more excited to spend the holidays with your boyfriend, Choi San, the boy who adults knew as the perfect gentleman. The boy who has a perfect smile (complete with an eye smile) and perfect manners. Little did they know your boyfriend had a devilish side to him too.

Your parents love him. They were smitten for everything he did. He would always bring you home on time and never stopped acting like a gentleman when he was with your family. As good as that sounded, your parents didn't know what was happening behind their backs. They didn’t know the fact that he would sneak in your room before your dates and do things they wouldn't approve.

You were convinced that San was the spawn of satan masked as an angel. Whenever he was around your parents he would dress as a young gentleman with a bright future plan, but when he was alone with you, and not naked (which was very rare) he would dress like a goth rock star that was ready to rob a bank and fuck his girl. But despite all that, you still couldn't help but love him with all your heart.

You picked up your phone that was on your nightstand and to your surprise, you did not received any texts or calls from him in the last few hours, which was weird since he was a night own and there was no way he would be asleep right now. You shrugged it off and went into your bathroom to change into your PJs and do your night routine (washing your face, brushing your teeth, etc.)

As you got out of the toilet, ready to go to bed, you heard a notification sound from your phone. You unlocked your phone and saw that you got a text from your beloved boyfriend;

{ Ready for a midnight adventure baby girl? 😘 }

You were confused. Midnight adventure? What did he mean by that? Did he meant to send that to someone else? If yes, he needed to give you a big explanation since you were the only person he was allowed call baby girl. But you decided to just go along with it. { Excuse me sir, but I don’t think my boyfriend would be fine with going with on a midnight adventure with a stranger. }

You sent him, hoping to tease him a little.

{ Screw that asshole, come outside. Your Prince Charming is waiting for you. Better be quick before your parents notice me. } You let out a smile, quickly you undressed yourself and stuffed your blankets with pillows making it look like you were in it, just in case your parents decide check in on you. 

You slipped on a hoodie and some shorts and made your way downstairs, as quietly as possible. You headed over to the front door, accidentally tripping on one of our shoes. You cursed under your breath. You open the door carefully and slipped out of the house.  Once you were finally out of your house, you ran over to your boyfriend who was waiting for you, leaned against the hood of his car. You felt like you were int a typical teenage girl movie, the one where they sneaks out in the middle of the night to meet the bad boy.

You rushed into his arms, your body crashing into his. San wrapped his Hans around your body, holding you closer to him as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. The fresh night air hit your skin, which sent a shiver run down your spine.

“What made you come here so late?” you whispered, hoping not to make too much noise “Am I not allowed to see my girlfriend?” San said as he looked at you, as he gave you an innocent face. You squinted your eyes, you knew he wanted something from you.

“What do you want San?” “Nothing, I just wanted to see my girl.” “San...” you said with a warning tone. “Okay, okay. You got me. I’m horny and I couldn't stop thinking about having your body against mine.” he admitted as his hand slid down your back and onto your ass which fit perfectly in his rough hands. He gave your ass a little squeeze as he nuzzled his face into your neck. You felt his hot breath on your cold skin, you couldn't believe that he came all this way just to get laid.  “Why couldn't you wait till tomorrow or just come upstairs like last time?” you said as you pushed yourself away from him. A groan left his lips as he quickly pulled you back against his chest kissing you deeply. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time I snuck into your room?” Your mind suddenly went into flashback mode to the time San decided to sneak into your room at 3am to have some “fun”. You were a moaning mess and your parents walked in on you, but you were lucky, San was quick enough to hide in your closet. You had to explain to your parents that you were having a bad dream.

“Oh yeah.” you said remembering what had happened. “But that doesn't mean that you can call me whenever just too fuck you in your car. What am I? Your sex toy?” you said as you left little punches on his chest. “You aren't baby girl, but you make me feel soooooo good and I really need you right now.” he said with his puppy eyes. “Please baby, just this one time. Pleaseeeeeee.” You haven't seen him begged for you before and you liked it, it made you feel powerful. Plus, it was hot seeing your boyfriend all tensed and flushed up by the sexual frustration that you caused him.

“Alright, just this one time.” Before you could say anything else, his lips crashed into yours, a small moan escaped your lips, allowing San to slip his tongue into your mouth, flicking it against your own tongue causing you to moan into his mouth. San pulled back causing you to whine.

“There’s more where that came from baby girl.” he said smirking “Come with me.” he smiled as he moved you away from him as he left the hood of his car.

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere amazing, just my car.” he laughed as he led you to the back seat of his car, your hands entwined with his as he unlocks his car with his free hand.

“And why are you bringing me to your car?”

“Because I want more privacy.” he smirked as he gestured for you to get in his car, you smiled as you got in. San got in after you and closed the door behind him.  “What do you want to do to me love?” you asked seductively as you made your way to his neck, kissing, nipping and sucking it, leaving small hickeys.

“Fu-- Fuck.” he groaned, he pressed his lips against yours, licking the seam of your lips as his hands wondered your body, his hands made it’s way to your breast and gave it a squeeze. You gasped against his lips, giving him access to slide his tongue into your mouth. You mewled against his mouth as you subtly grinned down on his clothed member. San let out a deep moan as he steadied your hips so that you could grind on him properly. You could feel your underwear getting soaked, you wanted him so badly. “Let me help you with that.” he flipped you, so that you were lying against the back seat of his car. San quickly pulled off your shorts and underwear at the same time. 

“Baby girl, we barely started but your already so wet.” he moaned, licking his lips at the sight of your juices dripping from your pussy. “I have an idea.”

“What?” you asked.

“Ride my face.” he grinned. 

“But I thought you were the one that needed released.” you said questioning him, he gave you one of his killer smiles.

“Making you feel good is a better pleasure than me needing release.” he said as he quickly adjusted himself to lie under you. You carefully straddled his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked as his fingers drew circles on your thighs.

“Yeah, I just don’t want to crush you.” 

“Trust me babe, you won't.” he grinned lifting you onto his face. 

His lips immediately sucked your clit into his mouth, causing pleasure to shoot through you, your hands gripping onto the seats in front of you as San ate you out. He licked up and down your clit, collecting your juices on his tongue, causing him to moan against your pussy, making you even more turned on.

“San-nie, I’m so close.” you moaned as San flicked his tongue against your clit. “Let it go baby girl, I want you to cum on my tongue.”he said against you pussy, the vibrations causing you to cum instantly. Your head fell back as your orgasm hit you. Your body started shaking due to the pleasure you felt. San lifted you off of his face, letting you fall against his body.

“You taste so good baby girl.” he said as he pulled you into a kiss, you could taste your juices on his lips. The kiss became even more passionate and heated.

You moved your hands down to unbutton San’s jeans, pulling it down and leaving him in his boxers that were damp due to his pre cum. You bit your lip as you pulled down his boxers, his member slapping against his toned abs, finally released from its confinements. You held his dick in your hands, swiping your thumb over the tip, spreading his pre cum.

“Fuck.” he groaned as you lowered your mouth onto his dick. Your head bobbing up and down on his dick. He let out a string of moans and profanities as you deep throated his dick.

“y/n” he called out as he bucked his hips.

“Mmhmm?” you hummed as you continued sucking him off.

“Fuck baby, I need you now.” he whined, you smiled against his dick. You lowered you mouth on his dick till his tip hits the back of your throat, you lightly ran your teeth up his cock as you came up. “Fuck, fuck.” he groaned as he lifted your chin with his finger. “Stop teasing me baby, I need to be inside you.” “Please tell me you’re on the pill.” San asked as he swapped positions with you. “What kind of question is that boo?” you said laughing. You spread your legs enough for San to fit between it. “God damn, I’m so lucky.” he said as he sinked his cock into you. “So so fucking lucky.” he moaned as he felt your warm walls envelop his cock.

He waited for a moment to let you adjust to his size. You moved your hips a bit, signalling him to move. His hips thrusted forward, hitting you deeply causing you to moan out his name.

“You feel so good baby girl.” San grunted as he thrusted faster into you.

You hands tugged on his hair as one of his hands played with your clit. Both of you were a moaning mess. The windows of the car started getting foggy.

“San baby, fuck.” you moaned as you tugged on his hair roughly and clenched your walls around his dick, making San groan outwardly in pleasure, and pain. “Do that again baby girl.” he panted, his thrust becoming sloppy as you clenched on him again.  “San, I’m goi-- going to-- to--” you could barely speak, your head was full of lust. “I’m close too baby, cum for me.” 

A few more thrust and you came undone on his dick, your walls clenching tightly bringing him to his own orgasm. Each others names left both of your lips, leaving both of your breathless and panting.

“Fuck, we definitely need to do car sex more often baby.” 

“Sure,” you breathed heavily “Just not in front of my house next time.”

You both let out a laughter before San pulled you into a kiss.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez text #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez choi san #choi san #ateez san smut #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez say my name #ateez hala hala #ateez illusion #ateez wave #ateez pirate king #woosan #ateez wonderland #action to answer

[danksimstho]

first previous next

Ripp Grunt reluctantly left for work, not wanting to lose his biggest opportunity for independence. However, he was rushing so much he forgot to say goodbye to Johnny. As Tank realized he missed work today, Johnny watched TV in the armchair in the living room.

“Now hold on young man, what are you doing around here with all that green skin and punk-ass clothes, are you spying for your pop?”

“No sir, I came here to see your sons.”

“Really. I doubt Tank would want to see you. You’re here for Ripp, and he just left. You better leave too.”

“I would be happy to.”

Meanwhile in the dining room Buck and Tank were eating lunch.

“So… I heard you and Ripp got in a fight.”

“Yeah, we did.”

“I’m sorry, It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have painted my face…”

“… I think it looks nice.”

Buck looked up in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, you did a good job.”

“Thank you!” he said with a smile.

“Don’t… Don’t give up on your art just cause of what me or The General says. I know what its like to give up on your passions for him. I don’t want you to go through that, and I don’t think you have to.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the youngest, so he goes easier on you. You’re lucky, don’t waste that.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, Hey General”

“Don’t hey me soldier, hay is for horses.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry… Anyway, I wanted to tell you, I enlisted in the military!”

“Now that’s some good news! Finally one of my boys is doing me proud today.” Said Buzz, patting his eldest son on the shoulder.

“Will you do some training with me in the yard to get ready for it?”

“Sure, son.”

“I’d better wash this off my face now… I caused enough trouble today.”

“Oh Buck you look so much better! There’s my gorgeous boy!”

“Thanks dad. I don’t need makeup to look pretty.”

“Of course not, you look so much better without it.”

Buck frowned. “Ye-yeah.”

“Now if only we could do something about your mother’s freckles. I’m just teasing you! Lighten up!”

“Right…”

He ruffled his son’s hair before going out in the yard to train Tank.

After Ripp came home Tank made everyone mac n cheese for supper, set the table and then sat on his own at the other table to do some introspection. However, no one asked him what was wrong.

“Hey Ripp?”

“Yes Buck?”

“Have you kissed a girl yet?”

Ripp coughed loudly “No, No I haven’t, hahaha… Why do you ask?”

“Well, I think… People always talk about kissing and how nice it is but I just don’t see the appeal of it.”

“Well that’s good, you’re still young. Also, this isn’t really the right place to talk about this.”

“No Ripp let him talk.” Buzz interjected. “It’s good for him to know he’s gonna kiss girls when he gets older.”

Ripp looked at him strangely.

“Why? Why should it matter? He has all the time in the world to figure this out.”

“This mac’n cheese is good, Tank!” Buck hollered to Tank, trying to change the subject. “Manners, Buck, Don’t talk while chewing your food and don’t shout.”

“You should take your own advice on shouting” Ripp mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” asked Buzz.

Ripp stood up from the table. “I have to go make a call.”

“Alright.”

Meanwhile Johnny snuck over and knocked down their trashcan, hoping that Buzz or Tank would be the ones to pick it up. Snickering he tip toed off the lot.

He rang up Ophelia but it went to voicemail. He tried again and she picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey Phe! What’s up?”

“Olive is in a bad mood. I couldn’t get the phone because I was at dinner.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I had a bad day today too… I wanna talk about it in person, thought.”

“Well I didn’t say my day was bad, but. Well anyway, I don’t think you can come over.”

“That’s cool, we can just sneak out and go to the playground.”

“The one we used to play at as kids?”

“Is there another one?”

“You’re right, that was a dumb question. Well, There’s Olive’s garden but that’s not a place I’d like to play at.”

“Ew, no haha. Pick me up?”

“sure, I’ll pick you up at 1am.”

#strangetown #ripp grunt #sims 2 story #buck grunt #tank grunt #general buzz grunt #tw child abuse #ophelia nigmos #johnny smith #ts2 #the sims 2 #sims 2

[jenmyeons]

Tender Love

Pairing: chanyeol x fem reader Summary: When insecurities eat away at you, your lover is the first one to show you why he thinks the opposite Word count: 1.5k

Author’s note: half of this was born at 1am due to some severe soft boyfriend pcy feels and said feels were then encouraged by my sweetheart @mayrubyy who kind of sort of convinced me to finish this and let it see the light of day. fair warning: this is the first time i’ve completed anything in years so feedback and asks related to this is absolutely welcome. hope you enjoy the ride! ♥︎

Date nights were never boring in Chanyeol’s opinion, not when they were spent with the love of his life, you. However what he was not expecting when he got home after today’s magazine shoot was to find your defeated form sitting on your shared bed with your head in your hands.

”Hey baby, what’s wrong?” he asks while crouching down before you, taking your hands in his and placing them in your lap.

The sudden contact makes you look up at your boyfriend, dressed to the nines in one of his many designer suits for your romantic night out at a restaurant recommended by Kyungsoo. You look away with a sudden guilt washing over you after seeing all the effort he had put into getting ready.

”I don’t know I was getting ready but nothing fits and I have just never felt uglier in my life,” you confess, still not looking him in the eyes. ”I was really excited to finally get you alone for the night but now i feel like total crap.”

Chanyeol releases your hands and instead moves to brush the hair sticking to your face from what he assumes were tears and behind your ears. A shiver runs down your spine at his intimacy and you think of how lucky you are to have found such a sweet man to spend your life with.

He stares at you for a long while with a deep frown between his brows.

”You’re always pretty to me,” he states with utmost confidence lacing his voice. ”Even when you don’t believe it yourself, I will always think you’re the most beautiful person I have ever met. I know that me telling you that won’t erase your insecurities for all time, but I hope to provide at least a little comfort because it hurts to see you putting yourself down like this.” You don’t think you can ever love him enough for being this good to you and a stray tear falls from your eye which Chanyeol is quick to brush away with one of his thumbs. What did you do to make yourself worthy of such a man? You think to yourself. ”So do you want us to stay at home tonight or should I help you find something to wear?”

You contemplate, weighing your options against each other. ”I don’t want us to cancel our date night because I’m being stupid and insecure.” You can see that he’s about to object to you calling yourself stupid so you hurry to continue before he can interrupt. ”But most of all I don’t want to cancel because I have really been looking forward to this the past few weeks.”

It was true, getting a reservation had been difficult enough but actually managing to squeeze in a date with your hotshot idol boyfriend was almost impossible with him leaving almost every weekend for concerts and the weeks being jam-packed with other promotional schedules and photoshoots.

”Cancelling when you’ve dressed up so nicely would be a crime too.”

He laughs with a gentle smile making its way onto his face.”Don’t worry about me babe,” he tells you before leaving a quick kiss on your forehead and then makes his way over to your wardrobe.

”Question is, are you ready for a makeover by Park Chanyeol the international fashion icon?”

You can’t help but laugh at his confidence, your mood shifting for the better. Maybe he could teach you a thing or two about self-confidence and being your own hype man.

”Honey, the only thing iconic about your sense of fashion are those ripped jeans you were caught wearing five days in a row.”

The gasp he lets out is loud enough to be heard from inside your closet, followed by loud protests muffled by the sound of clothing hangers rasping against the racks. You would never tell him that you secretly adore those washed out jeans that are now ripped almost beyond recognition. Chanyeol continues to mutter inside the closet and while you can’t really tell what he’s saying, you can imagine that he’s pep talking himself after your playful jab bruised his ego.

A few minutes later Chanyeol emerges into the bedroom once again, this time holding a piece of fabric you recognize as the Valentino dress he gifted you on your first anniversary in his left hand. The same dress that had been worn once before you convinced yourself that your stomach bulges too much and that your boobs have become too saggy for the no bra situation required. If the smug smile your boyfriend sports is anything to go by, he thinks the exact opposite. With a deep sigh you stand up and grab the sparkling dress reluctantly. There’s an overwhelming urge in the pit of your stomach to complain about his choice in clothing but one glance at the clock on your bedside table tells you there’s no space for arguments if you want to make it on time for your reservation.

Chanyeol lets go of his grip on the expensive dress then goes to make himself comfortable on the bed, his favorite spot for watching you get ready. He’s always loved seeing you pamper yourself, whether that involved seeing you blend out eyeshadow or putting on earrings with a frown of concentration taking over your features. However, it was nothing compared to watching you undress. Maybe he should cancel that reservation after all and instead spend the night unraveling you. Show you how beautiful he really thinks you are. The dangerous twitch in his nether region has him closing his eyes and in a desperate attempt at not getting a hard-on, he forces himself to instead think of the ugly selfie Baekhyun sent him earlier. It seems to do the trick for a minute but when he opens his eyes again the sight that greets him undos all his hard work in a millisecond. You’re all dressed up in the chosen dress and he almost regrets choosing such a fitted dress that hugs you in what he deems to be all the right places. Almost. Chanyeol moves off the bed and takes a few determined steps until he’s standing behind you by the vanity where you’re in the process of choosing the perfect jewelry for the occasion. He wraps his arms around your waist and let his hands travel their way from your stomach up to your breasts. The content sigh leaving your lips give him all the confirmation he needs and he leans in further to whisper in your ear.

”I knew that dress was the right choice, you look like a goddess baby. My goddess. We should just cancel dinner and let me devour you instead.”

A shiver runs down your spine and you catch his aroused gaze in the mirror in front of you but before your thoughts are clear enough for you to respond, the sound of your stomach growling fills the otherwise quiet room. Chanyeol laughs heartily and you with him at the ruined mood but he plants a kiss behind your ear nonetheless before sliding his arms from their grip around you. The dress hugging your body suddenly feels a lot more beautiful than when you first put it on.

”Alright maybe we should keep the dinner reservation,” he points out with a goofy grin and you can’t believe the duality of Park Chanyeol. The same man who just whispered dirty secrets into your ear to the point of soaking the lingerie you put effort into wearing only for him. You almost tell him that you’re fine with eating ramen if that means him making good on his promise to ’devour you’. At this point you’re not sure you can make it through a whole meal without having him, all of him. Your stomach growls once more, making it abundantly clear that that’s not an option.

With a disappointed pout you move around so you can face Chanyeol and reach up to give him a kiss on the lips.

”Thank you for making me feel beautiful honey,” you tell him and you swear you can see stars in his eyes as he gazes down upon you, wishing for him to look at you that way for all eternity. ”I love you so, so much I hope you know that.”

Chanyeol pulls you into a bone crushing hug against the hard plains of his muscular chest, no words needed for you to understand that he already knows and loves you just as much, if not more.

But he tells you anyways, ”I do know that and I love you and your sexy body even more but finish getting ready now so I can take you out and show you off to everyone at that godforsaken restaurant. Then I’ll take you home and show you just how pretty you are.”

The switch in mood from his tender confession of love to his much more explicit plans for the evening has your heartbeat picking up again and the heat rising from your neck up to your cheeks is all the evidence you need to confirm that Chanyeol will be the death of you. But you don’t think you mind that at all.

#exo #chanyeol #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol smut #exo fanfic #exo fluff #exo smut #chanyeol x reader #park chanyeol #chanyeol fanfiction #really can't believe i'm doing this #exposing myself like this #holy crap this is scary #but also kinda fun #i blame maya #also thanks for pushing me into doing this

[tazzytypes]

Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 1

EDIT (6/10/2020): I know this is unprofessional as hell, but I added more because the ending didn’t sit right with me. Was too excited too hurry up and post and forgot there was a reason I plotted things out in a certain way. Hope you all can forgive me.

Finally! Chapter 1! I hope you guys enjoy it. I loved reading your comments and every kudos made me more excited to keep writing. Also, I apologize for the weird spacing throughout the post. I had to copy it from scrivener to AO3 to here and it just made things messy, but it’s 1AM rn and I’m tired.

Read on AO3 or Fanfiction.net! 

click here for: Prologue |

Emily shifted in her seat, head rebelling after spending a week in the dim light of candles which cast everything in an orange hue and made the shadows dance on the walls. Even her large circular glasses did nothing to ease her sight… it was a wonder she wasn’t already legally blind. Either way, she had the mother of all headaches. 

 The constant fires always left E uncomfortably hot and the layers upon layers they were forced to dress didn’t help. First thing the wardens did when they arrived was strip her down and burn every shred of fabric… her favorite shirt nothing but ash. Clothing standards were non-negotiable. Evening wear on the left side of the armoire. Don’t mistake it for your daily clothes or you won’t receive dinner. Cocktails before-hand at 6:30 sharp. Lucky for Emily, she was always early for everything and had yet to find out what the punishment was for that particular faux-pas. She wished nothing but to grab the t-shirt and shorts she had arrived in just to find some relief.

  “Be careful what you wish for,”  Her mother had always told her. 

 At first, she had been relieved when the others arrived. Now she had to wonder if she would have been better off on her own… the supplies she had counted in storage would certainly have lasted longer. Small little cubes with all the nutrients they needed. They probably would have been better with non-perishables, but she doubted the wardens would risk a venture outside to hunt for some… not like they would be able to eat it, anyway.

 Another stabbing pain pulsed at her temples, hands going to smooth it out as she listened to the chattering around her that sounded more like white noise than coherent sentences. Waiting out the apocalypse in solidarity would have driven her insane, humans being the social creatures they were. However, she doubted any of them would survive the end of the world with their sanity intact. 

 Not that one could guess it was the end of the world by the conversations of her fellow residents, most of them rich and most of the snobby. Gallant and Coco were thick as thieves… their personalities almost comically matching that of Regina George from Mean Girls. Evie, Gallant’s washed-up film star of a grandmother was almost repulsively republican — so homophobic and racist that most of the residents hoped she’d have a heart attack and die. The Stevens, a mother and son pair along with the son’s boyfriend, were tolerable. Andre liked to throw shade, but he was balanced by his witty counterpart, Stu. 

 She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she thought of their earlier conversation.

   “It’s like Satan’s Spotify playlist,” Stu had joked in response to Gallants endless complaining, making Andre nearly choke on the water he had been drinking. 

  “For the amount of times I’ve been told I’m in league with the devil, I’d have expected him to have better taste.” Emily had joked in return. 

Stu laughed and Andre only sighed, “don’t even get me started on the clothes.”

  “Well at least you don’t have to wear a corset,” Coco had snipped, hand going up to pat at her hair in an attempt to keep it in place.

  Emily tugged at her own, something poking her in her stomach, “These are not historically accurate.”

  “Let me guess,” Stu said, gesturing to her glasses, “history major?”

  “Insomniac.”

  The pounding returned to her head and she leaned on the table, pressing at her temples with the hope of some relief. Maybe she could ask a Grey to get her some ice… she doubted Venable had a stash of ibuprofen in the reserves. 

 It had been 14 days since they had gotten here. 3 of which she had spent on her own, wandering the halls with a candelabra like a damsel from a Victorian novel. She tugged at the high collar of her shirt. Whoever designed this hole in the ground was determined to have them living in a corset-laced wet dream. 

 “Are you okay?” The girl beside her asked, a gentle hand placed on Emily’s arm. She had just arrived at the outpost, 2 weeks after the bombs dropped, with a boy around the same age. They had barely been able to introduce themselves before Venable cut in, ringing a bell obnoxiously to usher them to dinner. 

 The few words the pair had said still haunted her. 

   “It’s all gone,” The brown-haired boy had told them at Gallant’s insistence, lips pressed into a thin line as he tried not the let the emotions that came with those words to overwhelm him.

  “Everything,” The girl echoed, voice hollow.

  Gallant fell back as if he had been shot, panic threatening to overtake his lungs after it was done squeezing the life out of his heart.

  “What…” Emily had stuttered out, trying to calm herself, “What did it look like?”

  Andre’s voice had cracked and spat out like venom, “who cares about what it looks like?”

  Stu had placed a hand on his lover's shoulder. His brows were furrowed and there was a slight shake that came over his body. Andre curled into him, Stu wrapping his arms around him as if he could somehow shield the man from the world. 

  Her anxiety spread through her like a wildfire, the attempted facade of strength cracking, “It matters because it could tell us how fucked we are!” 

  “We’re well past fucked!” Coco had snapped.

  The girl with ebony hair focused on Emily, eyes welling with emotion she all too well understood. 

  “No sun…” She said, forcing the words from her mouth, “just green… smog.”

  “Does that mean anything to you?” Stu had asked her, eyes betraying his own fears.

  “Hiroshima happened in the… 50s? Chernobyl happened in the 80s,” Emily began to say, too in her thoughts to notice the side-eyed stares of her companions, “and that was still radioactive before it was radioactive… again.”

  The comment seemed to stir something in the new girl’s head, “I heard about that… people were able to take trips last year… once in a lifetime opportunity.”

  Coco scoffed, “so is dying.”

  “Wait, so like… this can go away?” Gallant asked.

  The girl looked to Emily, “People were living on Hiroshima before all this.”

  “Possibly,” Emily mused, “Then again, we’d have to multiply that incident by… well, a lot.”

  “We’d have to find out where and how many bombs were dropped.” The girl added, “as well as the area affected by it.”

  Coco frowned, still more focused on her hair than the literal end of the world, “could you stop talking like that? You’re seriously freaking me out.”

  “We’re all freaking out,” Dinah snipped.

  “Just tired,” Emily reassured the girl, leaning back in her chair. She realized she had yet to ask the girl her name, but the Grey’s entered with their meal before she could — one Grey for each purple at the table. The large black plates were almost amusingly large in comparison to the singular small cube that sat at its center. 

 A full table-set was spread out before them, silver soup spoons, teaspoons, knives, and a salad fork mocking them every day. They stood out against the dark wood and reminded them that they were doomed to a life of tasteless jello for the rest of their lives. Emily finally understood how her pets felt, fed the same food day in and day out… at least she had bothered to change up the flavor. Her body rebelled against her after the third day, gagging whenever she brought the cube anywhere near her mouth. A few days of starvation quickly rectified the situation and greatly amused her jailer who was all too happy to put the food back from whence it came.

 Venable chose the seating arrangements, naturally. Emily was sat beside the two new arrivals, positioned as far from the woman as possible. It was an arrangement neither of them minded. Emily didn’t hold her tongue in moments such as these and she didn’t like placing her wellbeing in the hands of another. Venable expected complete and total control over her residents, enforcing strict standards of order that were almost as tight as her hair, tightly pulled together in a double french twist at the back of her head. Emily was the stray hair that wouldn’t lay flat no matter what she did. 

 The new arrivals stared at their plates as the Greys placed the cubes before them, sending each other confused glances and waiting to see what the rest of them did. It hardly looked appetizing, brown and having a texture reminiscent of a health-nut’s chia-seed protein bar.

Emily poked at her own food for good measure, feeling her throat clench at the mere thought of eating again. It didn’t listen no matter how many times she tried to reason with it. You’d think the body would behave and finally realize that this was as good as things would get.

 Gallant turned towards the girl to his left, “Don’t be too disappointed.”

 “Darling,” Evie sighed from the other side of the table, spreading a napkin across her lap, “You don’t know what disappointment is until you’ve slept with Yul Brynner.”

 The mere thought of the old woman having sex was enough to make Emily’s lips curl in disgust… maybe she didn’t need to eat after all. For once Dinah was amused by the old crone, chuckling as she cut apart her cube like it was a five-course meal instead of the science project of Elon Musk. 

 “I want to die,” She could hear Gallant mutter a few seats over, head in his hands as he contemplated his decision to bring his nana along on whatever this adventure was. 

 Dinah was quick to explain the cubes to the new pair, “The cube on your plate contains every vitamin our body needs…”

 Across from Emily, Coco ungracefully shoved the entire cube into her mouth with one fell swoop, cheeks puffing out. Dinah continued to speak, pretending to have not seen Coco, words coming out rushed, “…or so they tell us.”

 “Whether or not it aids in our caloric intake is up in the air,” Emily added, following the woman’s lead and gently cutting into the cube. 

 “The fewer calories the better!” Evie proclaimed from down the table, waving her fork in the air to accentuate her statement.

 “Until you become a skeleton.”

 Emily had learned from Dinah’s example to take small bites, savor it. She hoped it would fool her body into thinking it was eating more. Either way, her stomach still growled and she was grateful to her handler for taking her to Chick-Fil-A on their way to the Outpost. The mere thought of that last meal made her mouth water.

 Coco’s silverware clattered onto her plate as she closed her eyes and whined, “I’m still hungry… I am so tired of the hunger.”

 A fist to the table made Emily jump, dropping her own silverware in turn. The girl next to her looked to the other residents as Coco stood up abruptly, letting her chair screech against the floor as it was thrown back. She looked to Emily and all she could do was offer a half-hearted shrug that said,  “same shit as usual.”

 … God, she missed John Mulaney. 

 “Fuck! This! Bullshit!” Coco continued, “With all the thought that went into this they don’t have a  single  bag of  Pirate’s Booty  in the pantry?”

 Evie sat back as if watching a soap opera while the rest of the residents braced themselves for another tantrum. Coco raved on, unaware of the sudden looming figures coming up behind her, “For a hundred  million   dollars a ticket, I expect goddamn Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen cooking us   real  food!”

 Then she stopped, a tap of a cane on the floor signaling the arrival of Venable, Miss Mead on her heels like an obedient dog. They braced themselves for another, self riotous lecture on appreciating what they had as if none of them mourned for what was. Slowly, head bowed and aware of her impending doom, Coco turned. 

 The slap rang in everyone’s ears, causing a collective gasp to fill the room. The brown-haired boy beside Coco caught her as she fell back, her hand going instantly to her cheek. As she stood once more she took it away and examined it. Emily could see the barest hint of blood on the blonde’s fingers. A growl threatened to rise in her throat and her lips curled in a disgusted snarl.

 It was hard to keep calm as she addressed the woman donned in black, “we’re all adults here. We can use our words… I hope. At least  some  of us have mastered that much.”

 Venable turned to her. The black-haired girl beside her shifted uncomfortably. One could cut the tension between the two women with a knife. 

 Finally, Venable pulled her eyes away and turned her focus to the spoiled girl before her, her hand resting back on the cane she always carried, “Let me be very clear so there will be no misunderstanding. We have enough nutrition to last for the next   18 months  and if our situation doesn’t improve, you can count on less and less.”

 Slowly, Coco sat. Shaking hands pulled away from her cheek as she reached for the chair. She was so scared that her movements were stiff. Yes, she had been yelled at before. God knows she was a stubborn woman with a temper, but no one had ever slapped her before.

 Venable retreated into the only exit of the room, slithering back into the shadows. Venable’s tone bordered on the overly-theatric, playing the part of a woman burdened by knowledge she dare not speak lest it disrupts the peace. 

 “You could have told us that from the very beginning.” Emily blurted out.

 The woman didn’t even bother to look at her as her lips curled into a mocking smile. When she finally turned to Emily, her tone was thick with condescension, “and cause  unnecessary  panic?”

 “You know what they say about communication and relationships.” 

 “ Situation ?” Gallant asked, waving a hand to get their attention, “What is our   situation ?”

 Miss Mead looked to her boss whose face glimmered with uncertainty and surprise, but only for a moment. Venable was debating whether or not to tell the truth or keep them in the constant state of unknowing, easy to control. If she were still in college, Emily could have written an essay on the ways Venable reminded her of the worst sort of people in their history books. 

 “We had a perimeter alert this morning,” She finally told them, less than pleased with the fact the words were leaving her mouth at all, “Something penetrated the grounds. It was a carrier pigeon delivering a message from our benefactors.”

 Coco gasped, “Wait! A pigeon! Can we eat it?”

 Emily sighed and leaned on the table, resisting the urge to hand her head in her hands. This place was going to be migraine city the moment she tapered off her medication.

 Miss Mead’s tone echoed her feelings, brows scrunching at the pure idiocy of the question.

 “It was  contaminated   by the   fallout .”

 Her response didn’t phase Evie, who made it abundantly clear she had never made a meal for herself in her entire life, “Can we  boil  it?”

 Venable reached into her pockets and pulled out a small sliver of paper and began to read, “There are no more governments. Only rotting mounds of corpses, too many to bury.”

 Emily’s hands fell to her lap and curled into fists until she could feel her fingernails embed themselves into the flesh of her palms. All she could hear were the voice-mails, each and every last plead for life. She could still hear her brother’s voice, cracking in a way she hadn’t heard since their grandmother’s funeral. It was etched into her brain to the last breath. To his last breath, he took his role as an older sibling seriously, trying to soothe her fears instead of his own.

   “I don’t want to die. God, I don’t want to—”

  Venable continued reading, “Starving people kill for a piece of bread.”

   “I love you… I… You were… are a good sister.”

  “Three outposts have been overrun.” Venable’s voice droned on, voice cracking ever slightly as she reached the end of the letter, “We are the last vestiges of civilized life on the planet.”

   “I… I know you would have made a difference… I wish I could have seen the life you would have created.”

  Venable looked to them all as she read the last line, “be vigilant.”

 Emily was pulled from her thoughts by a squeeze to her hand, instinctively pulling it back until she realized a hand covering her own. When Emily met the ebony-haired girl’s gaze she offered a reassuring smile, Emily nodded in a small message of thanks before brushing away the single tear which had begun to roll down her cheeks. 

 “Everything we know is gone,” Mead summarized, eyes blank. It was nice to see that even the Warden and Venable felt fear. Made them feel… human.

 “In  two     weeks ?”, Andre shook his head, staring blankly at his hands, “That’s all it took?”

 In a rare show of empathy, Gallant reached out and squeezed the man’s hands. Emily noted the way Stu watched the interaction, eyes watching the hands as if it were a snake slithering in his direction.

 “They made you think the system was a rock,” Mead explained, standing at attention with her hands locked together in front of her, “It was a water balloon. One prick of the needle and —”

 She made a popping noise, “that’s all it took.”

 It wasn’t as if Emily was surprised. One of the first things she learned in a college psychology class was that the only reason the world didn’t fall into chaos was due to people putting faith in a system that would protect them… conventional. The bombs had scattered them, left them weak to the chaos that ensued. It reminded her of the way roaches scattered when sprayed with Raid. Lawlessness was the antithesis of reason, mob mentality was evidence enough of that. It was textbook horror.

 “We will only survive if we follow the rules,” Venable emphasized.

 Emily scoffed. Some of Venable’s rules she understood while others were a blatant overreaching of power. She could understand the “no sex” rule to a degree. Copulation could result in the creation of new life which they had no means to sustain, but even the Victorians had condoms and you couldn’t walk into a 7-Eleven without finding a rack of Plan B. Not to mention half the residents were gay which made her rules pointless. 

 “Rules are the basis of order,” Venable said, clearly addressing her despite staring at the wall above them, “unless you find yourself to be above the rules? Too   special  for them to apply?”

 She hadn’t a moment to voice her thoughts, quickly distracted by the army of wardens that quickly began to fill the room. They all watched with bated breath as The Fist bent down to whisper in Mead’s ear, her lip twitching and eyes flitting to the ground as she gave the other woman her full attention.

 “There’s a problem.”

 Those 3 words were enough to break Venable’s gloating, head snapping to the side like Coco’s had a moment ago. They all watched the pair, unsure of who to keep a better watch on — Venable or Mead.

 “We’ve detected a spike in the background radiation, centered in this room,” Mead informed her boss.

 Gallant was quick to point fingers to the new pair, whatever empathy he had shown with Andre gone like the wind as he moved from them as if they had the plague, “It’s them! They just came from the outside!”

 “No!” The girl exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously and sitting forward in her chair, knuckles white around the wooden arms, “No! We were checked when we got here! We’re clean!”

 She looked to Emily for aid, brown eyes wide and pupils dilated. Her eyes glimmered with confusion and panic, searching for an unspoken question. Emily’s brows knitted and she bit her lip, eyes flickering between the girl before her and the wardens preparing a device that looked like a microphone attached to a larger box.

 “No,” the boy echoed, “we went through decontamination.”

 His eyes also went to Emily as he continued to speak, begging for her to understand, “we were cleared.”

 Emily opened her mouth but could find nothing to reassure them. Mead addressed the room before Emily could utter a word. “Place your hands on the table… and don’t.  Move .”

 Shaking her head at the girl, Emily did as she was told. This hadn’t happened before. She didn’t know what to expect. As the device clicked from her left, she edged her pinky towards her knife. It wasn’t sharp. It didn’t have to be sharp to cut through jello. With enough pressure, it could cut through skin. The rest of the room faded away as she kept her eyes on The Fists' hands, a second device in her hands as well. Emily’s heart hammered with each step closer.

 “Radioactive contamination,” Mead spoke, devices crinkling like static as they hovered over each person, “is a grave risk to our  entire  community.”

 The Fist, a giant of a woman with blonde hair pulled back from her face, towered above Emily when she was standing. Sitting down made her feel like a child in the presence of a giant. She held her breath as she felt the device get closer, clicking sounds falling silent as soon as it came above her hand. The Fist repeated the motion a few times more, making Emily’s heart go haywire in her chest, before moving on to the new arrival next to her, the clicking resuming once more.

 “The clean rule is there to protect all of us,” Mead continued, now going over the boy who sat stiff as a board, eyes following the woman’s every move, “A  single stray gamma particle can cause skin lesions. Your DNA breaks apart, your body disintegrates. You’ll   wish  you died in the blast.”

 The residents weren’t sure what to make of her speech. It wasn’t as if any of them graduated with a degree in radiology. They had learned it in high-school, sure, but that was ages ago… before there was colored TV for some of them. 

 “But someone here decided,” Mead went on, circling the table for a second round of testing, “that their  individual needs  were more important.”

 Emily tensed once more as the stick was waved around her, Mead pausing momentarily to look down at the box she held in her hand to see if it had somehow turned off. Finding nothing, she continued. “Someone went outside. Touched something  dirty .”

 The room was holding their breaths. They all knew they were innocent, but didn’t trust their companions as far as they could throw them. Their gaze followed the device, then to the person next to them, then to the person in front of them. They searched for a sign of guilt. It was easier to point fingers when someone looked shifty. 

 “Makes me sick to think that this person,” Mead spit as she made it to gallant, “to risk contaminating all—”

 A wild crackling filled the room. They all jumped in their seats, eyes focusing on the hairdresser. Emily’s heart leapt into her throat, paralyzed as the vultures began circling, donned in leather and stronger than any of them could hope to be.

 “No,” The man said after a moment, shaking his finger as he looked to the Wardens, “nononono. That’s a mistake because the  only  thing I’ve touched is Coco’s hair.”

 The Fist stood over Coco and shook her head. Mead gave the final order, voice lacking any pity, “she’s clean. You’re dirty.

 The wardens grabbed at Gallant, claws latching onto him as he began to struggle.

 “No!” He cried, “this is impossible! That machine is wrong!”

 Fingers dug into his shoulder and Gallant cried out in pain, dragged to his feet and across the floor. The warden closest to him placed him in a choke-hold, Gallant letting out a fearful sob as he clawed at the man’s arm. Evie stood, chair screeching across the floor as she reached out towards her grandson with trembling hands.

 “This is outrageous! Stop! Please, stop! Bring him back!”

 Coco gasped and let out a cry, hands moving to cover her face as her eyes welled with tears. The girl beside Emily looked between herself and the boy in front of her, chest rising and falling rapidly as she began to hyperventilate.

 Gallant scream pierced the air, “Evie!”

 The crackling filled the room once more. In their panic, they had failed to realize Mead making her way towards Andre and Stu. The couple could only stare at each other, the seconds dragging on like hours.

 “No way!” Stu chanted, refusing to look away from Andre, “No! No way!”

 “No,” Andre sobbed, reaching out towards the man and trying to pry him from the grasp of the warden pulling him away. He was thrown away with a shove.

 “Get your hands off me!” Stu screamed, another warden now going to carry him by his feet.

 Mead’s voice rang out from the chaos, followed swiftly by the marching of footsteps.

 “Take them to the decontamination room!”

 They could hear the groans of their fellow residents echoing down the hall. The sounds resonated long after the steel doors had closed.

Emily reached out for the hand of the girl next to her. Her face was frozen in a gasp, eyes wide with terror. Her hand rested on hers which still sat on the table. She squeezed back and held on for dear life.

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

  For once the saloon was quiet. Evie had gone to bed. Emily currently sat next to a crying Andre, Dinah opposite her. He hadn’t been able to stop crying since dinner, now unable to do more than hiccup.

 “How could he have been contaminated,” He sobbed, a horrible epiphany crossing his mind as he turned to Emily, “do you think they—?

 Emily gave him a look, “Did you forget Gallant’s little hand-squeeze during dinner? He was coming on to you, not Stu.”

 Andre had a fleeting smile before anxiety overtook him once more.

 “What we need to do now,” Dinah said, running a hand up and down her son’s back, “is make sure Stu comes back safe.”

 Her words were less than comforting, Andre shoving away her arm and staring at her with an emotion Emily couldn’t quite place… somewhere between distress and anger.

 “Why wouldn’t he be safe?” he demanded, looking to the brunette when his mother offered no response. Emily opened her mouth, hoping something would pop into her head, but she was at a loss for words. She couldn’t reassure him of anything. It would be a lie.

 The man scoffed, stepping back and shaking his head, “I can’t believe you.”

 He turned on his heels, breath hitching once more as another fit of sobs threatened to take over him. Why Stu? Why not them? Of all the residents Stu was the least deserving of—

 Emily rose, hand held out to stop him, “Andre—”

 A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder. Dinah took a step around her, hand trailing down her purple-clothed arm until she held her hand, the other coming to rest on top of it.

 “Let me talk to him,” the woman tried to reassure, the events clearly have shaken her as much as Stu. 

 Emily pressed her lips together and nodded, pulling back and watching the woman hurry towards her son, heels clicking down the hall. The door clanged shut behind her and silence filled the room.

 … but only for a moment.

 “What’s going to happen to me if they find out Gallant is —” Coco started to ramble, “I mean I  was  the only reason he was here in the first place.”

 “You were clean,” The brown-haired boy pointed out, face twisting in confusion.

 “Well, I know that!” Coco exclaimed, turning on the couch to face him, “but who’s to say there won’t be a  second investigation. I mean there had to be a   reason   they were tainted.”

 She went quiet for a moment, hands held out in front of her as if she was having a revelation, “oh my gosh! If they kill Gallant who’s going to do my hair?”

 Emily sighed and sat next to the new girl who was wringing her hands and staring into the fire. 

 “I never did ask your names,” Emily noted, looking to the girl and the boy.

 “Timothy,” He said with a nod of his head.

 The girl was pulled from her thoughts, turning from the fire and to the people behind her, “Emily.”

 Emily chuckled, “You’re joking.”

 “What?”

 “It’s the end of the world and I can’ escape the fate of having a basic girl name.”

 A smile curled at the other Emily’s lips, then a laugh, “really?”

 Emily extended a hand, “Hi, Emily. I’m Emily.”

 “There’s two of you now?” Coco groaned.

 “I was named after my grandmother,” The other Emily said, taking her hand and giving it a shake, “you?”

 “My parents looked in a baby book and picked a ‘less common’ girl name. 21 years later and there’s at least three Emily’s in each one of my classes.” 

 “God, this is going to be confusing,” Coco sighed, pressing her fingers to her nose in a praying motion, “Oh! I know! Emily 1 and Emily 2… no... That’s too wordy.”

 “Middle names?” Timothy asked.

 “No way in hell,” The two replied.

 “I can always go by ‘Em’,” she said, “god knows I’m used to it by now.”

 “M?” Coco asked, “that’s original.”

 “Well, we can’t all be named after a brand of cereal.”

 “I was named after Coco Chanel!” she snapped, turning to Timothy with crocodile tears, “You get it, right?”

 “…yeah?” he answered, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion, “The clothing brand.”

 He looked to the two Emily’s as he spoke like he was part of some hidden camera show. The two could only laugh and shake their heads as he was quickly rounded into another one of Coco’s monologues.

 “My parents named me Coco because they knew I was destined to make it big. So it was only natural that I…”

 Timothy looked ready to face nuclear winter. His guilt over the previous dinner altercations made him feel guilty for wanting to run away, but the boy always had a hard time saying, “no.” The Emily’s watched on, sparing him pity-filled glances when he looked to them for help.

 “So did you pay your way in here or are you here for your  superior  genetics?” Emily asked. 

 “Genetics,” Emily… Em replied, “I was supposed to be on the east coast but someone paid for me to be transported all the way out here.”

 “Who?”

 She shrugged, “no idea. Some rich snob wanted their dog to go with them… at least that’s what Venable tells me.”

 “I’d hardly call her a  trustful  resource.”

 Em laughed, “That we can agree on.”

 “How long do you think we’ll be here?”

 “More than we have rations for,” Em sighed, reaching for a glass of water, “Fallout could last up to five years and we’ve talked about Chernobyl… but nothing on this scale has ever been recorded.”

 Emily stared blankly ahead and nodded, trying to recall all she had learned about the matter in school, “we could be here for 30 years… maybe more.”

 “Sorry,” Em offered, “anyone here can tell you — I’m not one to speak to for optimism or reassurance.”

 “No,” The other girl shook her head, “I’d rather blatant honestly than pretty lies.”

 “If we had anything more than water I’d toast to that.”

 Emily laughed and shook her head. She reached for a glass of her own and held it up.

 “Let’s toast anyway.”

 Em smiled and leaned her glass forward, a dull clinking sound filling the air. 

 “What were you doing?” Em asked, leaning back and taking a sip of water, “before the bombs hit?”

 “Protesting. It sounds minuscule now… climate change, minimum wage.”

 “Everything is minuscule in the presence of death.”

 “Poetic.”

 “I sure hope so,” Em jested, “or all the money I wasted on an English Major was worthless.”

 Emily laughed, “Is that what you were doing before the bomb’s dropped?”

 “Nah… I was at home… enjoying summer. I was working on our campus’ literary magazine and selling art prints online as a side-hustle.”

 Em shook her head, silence sitting for a moment before Emily spoke.

 “I don’t know what to do with myself now.”

 “I don’t think any of us do, but at least we’re not alone.”

 “I wouldn’t call this particularly good company,” Emily admitted.

 “It’s not,” Em blatantly admitted, earning a short laugh from her companion, “but you and timothy seem alright.”

 “And you?”

 “Well…” Em said, side eying Coco who was still avidly speaking without a sign of ever stopping, “I’m no influencer.”

 Emily snorted and shook her head, “that may be for the best.”

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

“All I’m saying is Stu was boring and using up our food, and that lesions won’t work with my complexion.”

Em rolled her eyes and looked to Emily who once again sat beside her as Coco’s tirade went on. The blond-haired woman once again was patting at her hair like she was on the red carpet. They looked to Timothy across from them who just sat looking blankly ahead of him. Em smiled at shook her head, not able to blame the man for pretending he was anywhere else but here. If not for the mandatory cocktail hour and communal meals, Em would have stayed as far away from the others as possible.

Days had passed since Gallant and Stu had been forced into decontamination. Gallant refused to speak of the incident and… well… they knew where it got Stu. One would have liked to have said that Coco had shown some respect for the deceased, but the farthest she got was initial shock followed by contempt towards their fallen comrade.

“Fuck you,” Andre spat, murder in his eyes, “I hope they come for you next.”

“If they don’t,” Em noted, Coco’s eyes glaring into her own, “I will.”

She gaped at her, nose curling as her expression turned into one of disgust, “Is that a threat?”

“A promise.”

Emily gave her a look like a mother trying to get their child to behave among strangers.

It’s not worth it!” She hissed under her breath. Em was far too annoyed to pay her any mind. She could forgive selfishness and vanity, but her complete lack of sympathy for those in pain? It didn’t matter if it was genuine. All she had to do was shut up, give Andre space to grieve. 

Lucky for Coco, their jail-keepers arrived at the table before Em could follow out her threat. Venable’s cane sounded like the tik of a clock with each step she took, reminding the brunette of a horror story her friends and herself would tell around Halloween. 

“Nobody is coming for anyone,” Mead told them as they both rounded the table to their respective seats at the head of the table, “unless you break the rules.”

She looked to Em, “which includes murder.”

Em paused as she took a sip of water, raising a brow at Coco, “I never said anything about murder.”

The older woman looked into her lap and shook her head, trying to hide the amused smile threatening to show on her face. Coco scoffed.

“This is harassment!”

“This is a difficult time for everyone,” Venable spoke, failing to address Coco’s claims, “as a small consolation, we have a special treat.”

Em could smell the food before she could see it, the salt and the meat, she could taste it in her mouth without even touching it. She felt like a dog, smelling things with such detail she had never been able to notice before. It was incredible what desperation could do to the body. The whole table buzzed with excitement, grins brightening faces and hands going to silverware before the food could be set on the table.

Emily was unable to hide her shock, “no cubes tonight?”

Venable’s lips curled into a smile, the expression doing nothing to ease the woman’s continuously angry expression, “enjoy the bonne bouche.”

Bowls clinked together, the Greys hurrying to place food on the table. 

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Yes,” Emily sighed beside her, looking over to Em with an expression of relieved joy. 

The brunette didn’t care. If she was being honest, she hadn’t exactly paid much attention to the woman’s words after she saw the soup on the food trolley. It was much like a cat seeing a bird at the window, green eyes widening and pupils dilating as if Em had found her true love. While her companions were much more graceful, at least attempting some decorum, Em quickly dug into the meal.

Her mother used to chide her for this as a child, sitting next to her brother at the dinner table and seeing who could finish first. She couldn't explain to the woman that she had to eat fast or else her brother would steal her dessert. Such things didn’t make sense to an adult, but a child’s reasoning was elaborate and honest. For a life so short, every little detail mattered.

Usually, she wasn’t a fan of stew. Something about the floating meat and murky broth didn’t sit right with her. Now she wondered why she didn’t enjoy the delicacy more often. The meat fell apart like well-buttered bread in her mouth, the broth warmed her from the inside out. She could feel it burning down her throat like a shot of Bourbon, somewhat painful but none the less satisfying. 

“You think bribing us with a hot meal’s just gonna’ to make everything okay?” Andre asked, voice sore with grief. A white handkerchief flourished with the wave of his hand. It had been somewhere on his person since Stu was pronounced dead. Em was too caught up in her hunger to realize the weight of his words or the sudden stillness of the girl beside her, an unspoken conversation between herself and Timothy. She would take the bribe happily if it meant being spared from the tasteless cube she had become accustomed to. It wouldn’t win her over, but only a fool refused something readily given with no strings attached.

By the time Emily swatted at Em’s arm the brunette had already finished most of the stew, the bottom of her bowl visible through the broth. She sent Emily an irritated glare, gesturing with her hands as she swallowed her last bite.

“What?” she hissed.

Emily only rose her brows and sent a pointed glance towards Timothy. Turning towards him she was meant with an equally suspicious gaze and a shake of the head. With a sigh, she sat back in her chair, looking between the two and waiting for an explanation. 

“I think my mouth just had an orgasm,” Coco moaned with a full mouth, quickly shoving more food into her mouth in fear it would turn out to be a cruel mirage. Em looked at her and embarrassment made her flush a pale pink. Is that what she had looked like?

“Andre,” Venable sighed, settling in her seat and arranging her silverware before she took a single bite, “We’re not trying to bribe anyone, but there is something we all need to understand.”

With a thud of her cane on the floor, the residents turned to her like raccoons being caught in a garbage can. Em prepared herself for a show of saintly-hood the uptight woman so adored.

“There is no ‘us’ and ‘them,’ We are in this together,” Venable proclaimed, “No individual is greater than the group. We did what we had to do. This is, quite simply, a tragedy.”

Em held her tongue for once. While Stu and herself hadn’t been close, she respected him more than she respected most of her fellow purples. The old world may have died, but the power games still presided — a strongman was still a strongman even when draped in fine clothes and laced in a corset. 

It wasn’t as if any of them were paying her any mind, too enthralled in the smell of salt and meat like Hansel and Gretal in the witch’s house. Dinah sighed as she took another bite.

“Where have you been hiding the meat?” 

Venable’s pause waved over Em like a bucket of cold water, the slight twitch of her lip as she looked down at her plate louder and more illuminating than any sermon she had given them. “We have resources… for special occasions.”

Em could only stare at her as she ate, trying to work at the puzzle which was Miss Venable. There were moments where she swore the woman showed regret or perhaps anxiety, but they were small and fleeting. Everyone had a tell, even the most stoic of society. Em just couldn’t figure it out and it drove her up a wall. It felt like she was staring at a brick wall, waiting for it to crumble.

Gallant pulled something out from his mouth, cringing as his teeth dig into something hard. It was white and square, but he couldn’t tell what it was? Gristle? Bone? 

“I’ve never tasted anything like it.” He murmured, examining the object further as he twisted it in the light.

“It’s chicken,” Mead told him a bit too insistently. 

“That’s not a chicken bone,” Timothy spoke, looking from his untouched bowl to the object the hairdresser was holding. His lips pressed into a thin line. Venable took a spoonful to her lips, then another, and then another.

Andre spoke from the other end of the table, voice wavering as he stared at yet another hard piece which had made his teeth hurt, “tell me this doesn’t look like a finger.”

Em looked to her plate, stomach twisting as she poked at the remains of her meal. A piece of white glimmered to the surface. Damning polite behavior, she reached in with her hand and pulled it out. Her mind went blank as she stared at it, rectangular with two prongs reaching outward from the body. It was a tooth. There was no doubt. Chicken didn’t have teeth. A frog gathered at the back of her throat, threatening to leap from her mouth.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Andre sputtered out, breath coming out in wheezing gasps as he flew back from the table shrieking, “The stew is Stu!”

The table erupted in panic. Gallant spit out whatever was in his mouth, leaving a dripping dark stain on the tablecloth. Andre wailed and Coco shrieked to a Grey named Mallory to make her throw up. Em could only stare at the near-empty bowl in front of her, the reality not quite sitting with her. Morbid questions filled her mind. It had tasted like… she didn’t know what it tasted like other than meat. Salty, maybe? Sweet? 

A firm hand squeezed her own, Emily once again there to pull her from a spiral. 

“You didn’t know.”

Amongst the screaming, the gagging, and the retching Venable sat, unmoved by the fires of fear rising around her. She didn’t smile, didn’t frown, didn’t show any reaction at all.

“For heaven’s sake,” she spoke with the same amount of annoyance she always addressed them with, a touch of boredom in her tone “Don’t be ridiculous. There are lines which can never be crossed.”

Something was glinting in Venable’s eyes, something that Em had seen many times before but could never properly place. The woman looked to Mead, “not eating people is off the first rank.”

Em’s voice sounded hollow as it left her, “Yet it is always the first taboo to be broken among the desperate.”

The thought of cannibalism wasn’t what alarmed Em. Cannibalism was deeply ingrained in human history — from burial rituals to a final stand against starvation. No. What frightened her was realizing she would do it again in an instant if it meant her survival. A fire burned in her as she looked to Venable, sitting there with a smug glow of victory. She had hated Venable before, but this made her blood boil at the sight of her. A revelation she did not want had been forced upon her and Venable’s eyes glinted as they met her own. 

Her message was clear: Don’t rebel or you’ll be next.

#ahs fanfic #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x oc

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Sweet Pea//About Last Night (Part 4)

part 3

“Sweet Pea. Y/n.” Cheryl greeted you with a fake smile as she entered your bedroom. 

“Hi Cheryl.” You replied awkwardly. There was a few minutes of awkward silence before Sweet Pea broke it. 

“Soooo.” He started. “Our clothes?” He asked. 

“Oh yeah. There you go.” She replied and placed a plastic bag down on your bed. 

“Thanks.” You replied awkwardly. 

“Do you wanna know why I have your clothes?” She asked. 

“Not really, no.” Sweet Pea sighed. 

“But you’re gonna tell us anyway.” You added. 

“Of course I am.” She told you and Toni smiled. “Well, I was woken at 1am because I could hear strange noises coming from the garden. I looked out and saw two people in my pool. I begrudgingly went outside to see who it was and I see you two shouting at each other to ‘get out of the pool. The red headed devil is coming!’ and then Sweet Pea picked you up and ran out of the garden. So to cut a story short you went skinny dipping in my pool and then ran away naked.” She explained and you both groaned as Toni laughed hysterically. 

“We are so sorry.” You apologized. 

“Don’t bother.” She cut you off. “It was funny.” She finally laughed and you both sighed in relief. 

“You’re not the red headed devil.” You told her. 

“Oh, I so am.” She smiled. 

“She is.” Toni agreed with a grin and Cheryl glared at her, but you could see a small sign of a smile. 

“I do know some people who you may want to apologize to though.” She told you and you sighed. 

“Who?” Sweet Pea asked. 

“And what for?” You added. 

“Betty and Jughead.” She replied. 

“Oh, thats not important. I’m not apologizing to them. I don’t really care what I did.” Sweet Pea rolled his eyes as your phone rang

“Hello?” You asked as Toni and Cheryl left.

“We want our clothes back!” Betty told you angrily. “And my mother wants her lamp.” 

“What?” Sweet Pea asked while laughing. 

“You broke into my house, when nobody was in. I assume you both thought it was Y/n’s. You stole my clothes and some of Jughead’s, as well as a lamp from my mother and you were sick on my bedroom floor.” 

“I was wondering why these clothes felt tiny. I felt like I was wearing a toddlers shirt.” Sweet Pea laughed. 

“Yeah. I knew I lived on the Northside, but I didn’t think I dressed this much like a Northsider.” You added and wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Really?” Jughead asked annoyed. 

“Sorry, sorry.” You apologized and tried to get your breath back. “I will return your clothes and lamp as soon as I can. I will even wash your clothes if you want. And I will pay for any damage mine or Sweet Pea’s sick caused.” You told them after you had eventually stopped laughing, however you were still giggling every so often. “See you later guys.” You hung up and turned to Sweet Pea. “I can’t believe we stole their clothes.” 

“Maybe if we wear their clothes we turn into them. Maybe thats where all their Betty and Jughead mannerisms come from. Their clothes!” Sweet Pea said fearfully. 

“Dear God. Nooooo.” You teased. 

“Y/n. I need to tell you something.” 

“Anything Jughead. I mean Sweet Pea.” 

“I’m weird. I’m a weirdo.” He replied and your eyes widened with fear. “Its taken over. Help me!” 

“I can feel it happening. I have a need to put a black wig on!” 

“GUYS! YOU DIDN’T HANG UP!” Jughead shouted angrily down the phone. You and Sweet Pea looked at each other with wide eyes, whispering about what to do. 

“We must still be a bit drunkkk.” You slurred and looked at Sweet Pea for help. 

“Yeahhhh.” He agreed. 

“That was terrible.” You whispered. 

“What do you want me to do?” He argued. 

“Hey guys!” Fangs interrupted you. 

“Fangs is here! Hi Fangs! Bye Betty and Jughead.” You said quickly and hung up, checking just in case. 

“Toni said you’d be here.” He smiled and sat down at the end of your bed. 

“What did we do to you?” Sweet Pea asked. 

“Nothing” He smiled. “I came to say congratulations!”

“Congratulations?” You asked. 

“Yeah. On your engagement.” 

tag list: @elsie2018​ @anahgiedd​

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine #jordan connor imagine #jordan connor x reader #jordan connor x you #jordan connor x y/n

[kiszkakiss]

I Always Think of You

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Reader

[AO3 link, if you prefer: x / x]

Summary: Based on this request. You’re in high school and Sam is your best friend but it turns into more.

Warnings: None, just fluffiness.

A/N: Second fic ever! Feedback is very welcome.

[Word count: 1331]

You were bouncing your leg up and down, chewing on your pen and staring at the clock. Two minutes ’til class was over and you could hang out with your best friend. When the bell rang to signify the end of the day, you practically sprinted out of the room, barely keeping a hold of your books. You adjusted your grip as you power walked down the corridor when you saw the person you were hoping to see. He was leaning on your locker, long-limbed and looking at his phone. “Sam!” you called out. His hair was voluminous and longer than ever, denim shirt half buttoned. You caught his warm eyes lighting up as he watched you stride towards him. Putting his phone in his back pocket, he reached out to grab your books for you. “Where’s your backpack?” Sam asked, confused. You just tapped on your locker and he got out of the way so you could unlock it. “Oh.” he breathed when you pulled your bag out from behind the mess of textbooks. “You really need to be more organised; and before you even say anything, I only nag because I care.” “Sam, I don’t want to hear it. I’m just glad today is over. Now, take me to the study room.” You hoisted your bag over your shoulders and pointed down the hall in a valiant manner. He just shrugged, used to your odd personality, and led the way.

The two of you got yourselves situated in the small, private study room. Sam spread out his notes and books on the desk, though, you knew that you weren’t going to be studying. You reached into your bag and pulled out a bag of chips, spinning around on your swivel chair as you ripped the packet open. “God, I’m hungry.” You groaned as you popped a chip in your mouth and crunched down. It took you a minute to realise that Sam was holding back laughter. “What? What’s funny?” You questioned, slightly offended. “Nothing, it’s just…” He wasn’t even trying to hide his smile. “Never mind.” “No, seriously. Tell me. What is so funny about me eating potato chips? Really. I’d love to know.” You were starting to feel self-conscious. “Nothing, I told you!” He paused. “Were you chewing on your pen again?” “No, I wasn’t, Sam.” You stated, actually quite unsure whether you had or not. “Really?” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms and giving you a dubious look. “Something tells me you were. Go like this.” He bared his teeth and you copied. “Yeah, you have ink on your tooth.” You gasped and covered your mouth. “I’ve been walking around like this all day and no one told me.” You felt your cheeks warm up as you frantically searched for your phone to get a good look at yourself. He gently grabbed your hand. “Hey, calm down. It’s not that bad. Show me again, like this?” He bared his teeth, once again, and you reluctantly did the same. Sam moved his chair closer to you and placed his left hand on your face to keep you still. His other hand made its way to the other side of your face and you had a feeling you knew what he was about to do. You felt his thumb graze across your tooth once and then a couple more times. You couldn’t help but notice how great his skin looked. He was glowing, honestly. Weird. “There.” he said, matter-of-factly, smiling goofily back at you. “All gone.” You were grateful but you just huffed out a sigh. “There will be no more pen chewing for me, I swear.”

-

That night, you sat upright on your bed with thoughts of Sam. The moment he touched your face, you felt… something. You couldn’t pinpoint it. He was close enough that you could feel his breath, warm and sweet smelling. It was intoxicating, really. You shook your head. He was your friend; always had been. There was no way he felt anything more than that, anyway. Before you could think your way into a crisis, your phone buzzed, bringing you out of your thoughts. It was 1am; what was Sam doing up this late?

Sam: Hey, you awake? You: Yeah. What’s up? Sam: Josh accidentally set a fire in the microwave. But, don’t worry, we’re all fine. You: How…? Nvm, not even going to ask. This late? Must have had the munchies. ;) Sam: You know, I wouldn’t put it past him. I can’t sleep after all that drama. You: Aw. Well, I’m glad you’re all safe. And it’s nice to know you thought of me first. Sam: I always think of you.

-

Still sleepy from staying up late the night before, you strolled up to your locker. Of course, Sam was already there, waiting for you. Shoving your backpack inside, you exhaled. “Hi, honey.” He smiled at you, wrapping both of his arms around your shoulders. You gave him a tight squeeze around his waist and pulled away. His hair was pulled up into a bun, some pieces of hair at the front framing his face, and his usual button up shirt was replaced with a cosy sweatshirt. You swore your heart skipped a beat. He was beautiful. “Since we’re using terms of endearment: good morning, sweetie.” You smirked at him, hoping to disguise how much you really meant it. “Yeah, why not?” He shrugged, blush on his cheeks making an appearance. You started to walk to your first class but Sam managed to catch your wrist. “Hey, uh… do you want to skip today?” He asked, hesitantly. “Uh, yeah, duh. I’ll never say no to ditching; I thought you’d know this about me by now.” You winked, about turning and walking in the opposite direction. Sam giggled and followed you, still holding onto your wrist.

You made your way outside, with Sam in tow, but changed your mind when you saw the rain pouring down. “Do you think one of the music rooms is free?” You suggested. Sam raised his eyebrows and made a vague noise. “Alright, let’s try, at least.” So, you did, peaking into each room. The last room was unoccupied. “If any teachers come by we can just say Ms Smith said we could practice here. She likes me, so.” You grinned and hopped up to sit on the one table in the middle of the room. Sam moved a pile of sheet music and sat at the piano, his long fingers improvising expertly over the keys. “Remind me; why aren’t you taking music?” you questioned, leaning back on your hands. “I like it and I’m good at it but I prefer science. It’s more of a hobby, I guess. My brothers make me play bass for them at home.” “Oh, yeah. You mentioned that.” You jumped down and moved to sit next to him at the piano; you were shoulder to shoulder now. “Yeah, it’s like Jake can sense when I’ve finished my homework. As soon as I’ve written one last sentence or equation, he yells at me to come down to the garage.” He laughed, shaking his head. “When can I finally meet your brothers?” you asked as you lightly nudged his arm. Sam thought about it. “How about tonight?” “That is very soon.” A sudden rush of anxiety washed over you. “Or tomorrow!” Sam quickly took back what he said. “Whenever you’re comfortable.” He turned his face to look at you, his eyes wandering all over your face. “Tomorrow sounds good.” Your voice was almost a whisper as he ran his thumb over your cheek. A stray piece of hair fell in front of your face and he tucked it tenderly behind your ear, cupping your face; much like how he held you still the other day. “It’s a date.” he replied, just as quietly. Sam took a hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

#greta van fan fiction #greta van fleet fan fiction #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fluff #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fan fiction #fanfic #fic #fan fiction #gvf fluff #gvf fic #gvf fanfic #sam #fluff

[yourhero404]

Katsuki’s Birthday (4/20/19)

A/N: TECHNICALLY I’M ONLY LIKE, TWO HOURS LATE TO THE PARTY (it’s uh almost 1am as I post this) BUT EVERY DAY IS A GOOD DAY TO LOVE AND APPRECIATE BAKUGO KATSUKI

Idk why I made this shit sad and I also dunno why I can’t hold onto a plot line but I’ve been exhausted and I just couldn’t let myself NOT do anything for his birthday so here, have this anyway

Villain!Reader and ProHero!Bakugo? You betcha. Hell yes. It’s honestly one of my favourite ideas and I really hope I can write more some time ;u;

Why was today so fucking busy?

Bakugo was never one to fuss about a birthday, especially his own, but the amount of work he’s got on his plate today was massive compared to the usual and he was beyond ready to just go home. A villain here, a theft there—aren't there other heroes working? Ridiculous. What made it worse was the fact that no one seemed to remember that his birthday had been today; He was happy because it meant there was no large, over the top party waiting for him, but some part of him actually felt... lonely.

He stood amongst the wreckage of a, luckily, abandoned warehouse, sweeping the building one last time to make sure he and the police arrested everyone involved in the bust. Very faintly, a creak came from broken boards of the exposed second floor above his head, causing his attention to snap to the silhouette leaning against the wall.

“Oh, Explode-a-boy,” the voice drawled from the clearer image of (Y/n), “Lookin’ a little worn out there.”

“Fuck off,” He spat, “Either come down here and get the ass kicking that’s coming to you or get lost. I’m not in the mood to deal with you.”

“Woah,” they took liberty of their sarcastic cat’s meow and hopped down to the space in front of him, “Those pants got your panties in a bunch today?”

“Didn’t I tell you to fuck off?”

His lips turned up to a snarl, a few medium explosions coming from his palm to serve as a warning for the villain in front of him to back off. They gave him a smile and threw their hands up as a sign of surrender before gesturing for him to relax.  

The curve of their lips was unsettling—something about it pissed him off; It wasn’t smug or dark, but... genuine. That’s what pissed him off—how genuine this villain always was amongst their attitude, it was... human. They fought every time they came together, but it never seemed to end in a win or a loss, just a smile from them as they left—it felt like the damn training sessions he’d gone through in school. This villain was an odd one, and they left and even more odd feeling in his chest with each interaction.

“Okay okay, I can see you’re having a rough kinda day,” they offered their apology with a bow that held a large flourish, lightly making their way backwards towards their exit, “I just wanted to tell you about a little surprise I have for you-”

“What surprise?” He cut them off, his entire form dripping with irritation, “If you’re looking for a fight-”

“God, shut up for five seconds, big head.” They curled their lip to a snarl that rivaled his own, “Since you’re beyond rude, I won’t tell you now.”

“Tell me.”

“Not happening!” They turned quickly and made their way far out of his reach, throwing one last smile over their shoulder, “You’ll just have to wait for it!”

“Great,” he murmured to himself, “Just what I needed. More fucking work to do today.”  

The rest of his day was just as hectic, the stress he held in his shoulders over the idea that some large-scale attack by (Y/n) could happen at any moment did nothing to help his mood, either. Not one ‘happy birthday’ text, not one second glance his way—everything was bland and mundane. Is this truly what it was like to be an adult? It was a shitty sort of life to lead, especially since he’d been dreaming of this heroic sort of world since he could remember. The only thing he looked forward to now was the shower that was calling his name, but he couldn’t have that either, it seemed.

All it took was a small crack of his front door to allow the smell of food to hit his face. Food? There shouldn’t be any smell of food; Now on high alert, he threw the door open quickly and held his hand ready for any sort of attack—only to be met with an empty room.  

On the counter in his small kitchen sat a plate—a warm plate, actually, there was an abundance of steam coming off of the spicy curry that sat on it. Someone had to of just left it there moments ago, but who? The small, handwritten note beside it gave him his answer—and for some reason, it didn’t cause him any worry like it should have.

‘Nice place, Explodokill. You really should clean your fridge up, though—you really do live like a single dude. I told you I had a surprise for you, didn’t I? Figured you were too tired to do it yourself, so I made you something.’

He eyed the food sitting on the counter before a small arrow on the bottom of the note caught his eye, and he turned it over to find the continuing message.

‘NO, I didn’t poison the food. Killing you like that would be too easy, I want you to go out in some big, extravagant fight. Basically, it’s safe. Check the fridge when you’re done.’

Too tired to really argue with that logic, Bakugo cautiously took a bite, not really knowing why, but mostly trusting the food. It smelt divine—extra spicy and had some sort of twist to it, one he couldn’t put his finger on but knew he hadn’t had homecooked dinner that good in a while. Ignoring any sort of logic to be wary of their intentions, he checked the fridge as they had suggested and found a small, home-baked cake waiting for him as well. It was lopsided, frosted hastily, and held a coloured message with an equally lopsided smiley face-- ‘Congrats, you’re old’. He couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh—it shook his entire body until tears formed in his eyes; Just who was this person? What sort of evil villain breaks into a hero's home to cook them dinner and bake them a cake? What villain would go out of their way to do something so nice to their enemy? Bakugo always knew they were never a typical villain—maybe that’s why he somehow ended up fond of them, not that he’d admit it to anyone.  

He ate his cake- it tasted good despite its appearance- in a deafening silence, only now truly realizing how lonely he had felt today. Dragging it along, he made the cake made for one last as long as possible to keep him busy, once it was gone, he’d fall further into the realization he was alone. With heavy sighs out of the way, he silently promised himself he’d wash the used dishes later and pushed past his bedroom door to find a small box sitting on his open window sill.  

Knowing who it was from immediately, he unwrapped it- not too rough just in case they had some sort of joke to pull, but not too soft either- to find something shiny inside. On a metal chain sat a thin silver grenade-shaped pendant that resembled the gauntlets he wore with his costume, the iconic ‘X’ from his shirt engraved across it. He couldn’t stop the smallest smile from gracing his lips, only for it to drop in shock as he felt some sort of engraving on the back of it.  

‘#1 Hero- King Explosion Murder’

Bakugo swallowed hard, irritated at how easily something like this had brought tears to his eyes. He was getting emotional over a necklace he received as a gift from a villain—a villain! Yet, they had listened to him each and every time they had spoken during their fights, paid attention to each little detail of their interactions, and took the time to get him something so heartfelt. It was stupid, he knew, to develop feelings for a villain, especially one considered to be your nemesis, but how could he stop himself from falling now that they had done all of this, when no one else had even bothered to remember? Maybe they weren’t a villain by choice but by necessity—they certainly were kind at heart, and it made his own feel as though it were going to jump out of his chest at the thought of them. He had a lot to think about, all of which held (Y/n) as the main topic.

Light footsteps hopped down from his window sill, very cautiously making their way in front of him. They stopped at a careful distance, ensuring an easy getaway should he decide to attack, but he hadn’t even looked up at them. He sat at the edge of his bed, allowing them to walk just a few steps forward to make up the distance, sitting in silence for a few more moments as he clutched his newest prized possession.  

They made a move to say something, but were caught off guard at the grip he held on their wrist—before they could react, he pulled them close and wrapped his arms around their waist tightly, hiding his face against their abdomen. A few moments of realization were all it took before they gave him a gentle reaction, lightly combing his tangled hair with their fingers and laying their other hand on the back of his neck in reassurance. Normally, they would take the opportunity to tug on his nerves, piss him off, make him break—but they only smiled sadly to themselves as they barely caught the sniffling and hiccups that came from the blonde wrapped around them. Falling for a hero was the stupidest thing they could have ever done, but seeing just how soft the explosive man could be in times like this made every interaction they’ve had worth it.

(Y/n) consoled him as well as grieved for their own feelings, knowing just how vastly different their worlds were, and silently accepting they’d be destined for a road of destruction, but for the moment, just this one moment, maybe the two of them could be happy. They felt his arms pull them closer as they spoke softly, making the moment between them as personal as it could be—no hero, no villain, just human.

“Happy Birthday, Katsuki.”

#bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #its loving :clap: and appreciating :clap: bakugo hour :clap: #bnha drabbles #mha drabbles #boku no hero academia drabbles #my hero academia drabbles #bakugo birthday #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader

[arsyeong]

[5] thief | ijb.

o n e  /  t w o /  t h r e e  /  f o u r  /  s i x  /  s e v e n  /  e i g h t

summary: after leaving yet another note, the recipients come up with a clever plan that could finally get him behind bars. but now, you don’t want that. word count: 2,358

a/n: im so unsure of this uhmm,,,, im sorry if that wasnt a nice twist,,,,

You sit on the side of the little bridge, your feet dangling off it and wetting the tips of your toes.

The tiring days kept you from seeing JB again after he disappeared on you by the beach. Memories from that night kept distracting you from your work and your sleep. You would come up with a question, trash it in the next second then have another one.

Hopefully, winter will give you a chance to confront him about it.

You heave yourself up with a final sigh, hoping your little sitting down moment had given you enough energy to go through the day. When you squint and see the ocean in the distance, you immediately shake your head and turn away, not wanting to be filled with thoughts of Jaebeom again.

"(Y/N)!" calls a gruff voice, shattering the sense of peace you've surrounded yourself with.

You spot Meryll walking toward you, a bright smile on her face, and you decide to meet her in the middle and mirror it. "Good morning, Meryll!" you chirp once you've jogged up to her.

"Good morning, kid!" she greets back, pulling you into a side hug and patting you on the back. "How's work treatin' ya?"

"Battering me up as usual," you say, and both of you laugh.

"Well, that's life," she pats you a final two times, "Let 'em beat you up, but don't ever let 'em kill 'ya."

"I won't," you assure her, and she lets out yet another laugh.

"'Ya better not," she starts again, "or else this town's gonna crumble."

"I don't think that's gonna happen," you chuckle nervously, your face heating up at what your brain took as a compliment.

"Exaggeration, yes; lying, no."

The new voice causes you to jump. You turn in horror, only to be met by a laughing Mark. "You scared me!"

"Obviously." The glare you shoot him lasts only a second before you find yourself smiling with him, also finding your reaction hilarious.

"Where's Iyah?" you ask once you've calmed down. You look behind him, searching for the girl who completed Meryll's farm trio.

"Sleeping," he says, uncrossing his arms to hold you by the shoulders and push you back down from your tiptoes. "It's still quite early, you know."

"But wasn't she always an early bird?"

"I guess she switched with someone today," he says, his voice suddenly low and void of his earlier friendliness.

Something wasn't right. "What do you mean?"

Mark says nothing as he minimizes the distance between you. You step back instinctively, but a hand stops you from doing so. That hand angles you to face away from Meryll and her crops before letting you go to retrieve a piece of paper from Mark's pockets.

"This shouldn't be new to you by now," he says in a hushed voice. You catch him scan your surroundings briefly, then he hands you the note. "The early bird in Iyah seems to have gone to the thief this morning."

I shall act like a harvest king and help myself to your crops tonight, it reads, JB.

"The solution to this is one word," Mark whispers, "Ambush."

Though you physically freeze at the word, your mind runs wild; it was a perfect tactic. There would even be more of you this time. If planned properly, it just might work.

"Two teams," Mark goes on, "One waiting, one hiding."

"Are you sure this isn't just a ruse for you to spend time with Iyah?" you blurt out. His eyes widen at the accusation, and you decide to accompany your words with a smirk.

When he recovers, he narrows his eyes at you but shoots a smirk back. "I never said it would be Iyah and me," he leans in closer to you, an arm slithering around your waist to keep you still, "For all you know, I was thinking about you and me. Alone. At night. Hidden."

His eyes were glimmering with mischief, waiting for your response. "That's a very Bambam thing of you to say," you manage to breathe out.

"I bet you would have been tomato red by now if I was Bambam," he says, "and you would have wholeheartedly agreed if you were going to be hidden and alone at night with him."

"Shut up, Tuan."

He pulls away laughing, "You're cute when you get mad."

You're forced not to retaliate when you hear his name being called from afar. Both of you turn at Iyah's cheerful voice. "Mark, stop flirting with (Y/N)! She has work to do, and so do you."

He releases you from his grip, causing you to stumble back a step. "Sorry," he quips quickly. You smile and nod in acceptance to that, then he moves so his entire body was facing you. "So, will you help us?"

Yanked back to the main topic of your discussion, fear tightens its grip on you once more. As if realizing that as well, Mark is quick to say, "I mean, you have the most experiences with him. You, out of anyone in this town, would probably recognize his strategies and whatnot."

He had meant that innocently, you knew, but it still had you shaken. It was the truth - you knew him the most out of anyone in this town - but it was also the very thing that had been keeping you from agreeing to help immediately. You knew him, and he was still human. He was your friend.

And you didn't want him to end up in jail.

"I'm sorry," you say, voice barely a whisper.

"Work's been that hard, huh?" You give Mark a grateful smile. Though that wasn't the real reason, you were glad he tried to understand.

"I'll ask around if anyone else wants to help," you offer, and he nods.

"Thanks, (Y/N)."

"It's the least I could do," you tell him, beginning your retreat and quickly adding, "Oh! And by tonight, he means some time between 10PM to 1AM."

He nods again, lips pressed to give you one last tight smile before turning away to join Meryll and Iyah with their work. You watch them for a while, letting your guilt of leaving them to wash through you.

Then, you turn and head into your busy day.

Fifteen minutes to midnight, you arrive at Meryll's farm.

"(Y/N)?" a surprised voice calls out, followed by the appearance of Iyah and Bambam. "I thought you weren't coming."

The latter is quick to reach for you when you stagger around, prepared to catch you should you fall. Literally, anyway. "I thought so too."

"You seem tired," Iyah says, heading to your side and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, "Maybe you should just rest tonight."

"I want to help," you insist, though you were aware of your body signaling otherwise.

"Not in your condition." Bambam's voice was firm and disapproving. With judgmental and concerned eyes, he takes in your obviously exhausted state.

"Bambam's right," Iyah agrees softly, "You can't really help when you're tired as you are. Let him take you ho-"

"NO!" you exclaim, putting an effort to get your point across.

"Why are you so intent on catching this thief?" asks Bambam, whose grip on your forearm was tight, whose worry and confusion was evident in his eyes. "You're already tired from work at day, but you're still pushing yourself for him at night. Please, (Y/N)," his voice cracks as he pleads, tugging you in the direction of your house, "Don't do this. Not tonight. It's unhealthy for you."

"We need to get there before twelve," you say, pulling yourself away from him, "What kind of help would we be if we leave Mark and Meryll to the thief alone?"

"(Y/N)!"

"I'll be okay, Bam," you tell him, accompanying that with a reassuring smile, "Trust me."

"I'm worried about you," he confesses quietly, "What if he uses more intense magic this time?"

There wasn't enough time to fawn over Bambam; JB would be arriving any time soon. You tell Iyah to go ahead before taking your best friend's hand in yours and squeezing it slightly, "We'll be okay. I'll be okay."

With a synchronized nod, the two of you run to the others, hands together.

As you separate into your respective groups, you can't help but doubt your sudden decision. Was coming here the right thing to do? It wasn't like they were going to leave you alone and waiting for him like the past two times. You would also need to aid the catching no matter how much you want him free, or they would be suspicious of you. All in all, if this whole thing goes according to plan, Jaebeom would end up in jail before sunrise tomorrow, and you were to be part of the blame.

But you just couldn't go home when the chance to see him had been served on a silver platter (or a piece of paper, but that's beside the point).

You came here with the hopes they'd be lured away as he did the first time, or that they would all decide to abandon this ambush plan. You selfishly wanted Jaebeom alone, and maybe then would you be able to talk to him about everything. Even when you thought they would stick with Mark's strategy, you would still be able to see him. That would be enough.

You shake your head again, trying to keep the smile off your face as excitement began to stir in you.

"'Ya really should have stayed home, kid," comes Meryll's gruff voice. In the corner of your eye, you could see her shaking her head at you. "Even that thief would think 'yer tired, what with all 'yer shakin'."

Jaebeom would see it, you think to yourself, he knows me well. "I couldn't pass up an opportunity to catch him," is what you say, "The sooner he's in jail, the more winks we all would be able to catch."

"But the longer I'm out of jail, the more winks I could give to you."

Jaebeom seems to have materialized in the scene, and you turn from Meryll to him slowly. That familiar glint of mischief was in his eyes, and the brief grin he gives you is a friendly one.

Meryll faces him, and his smile becomes a sneakier one, a more thief-like one. JB laughs, "I see you were all eager to meet me tonight."

"STOP RIGHT THERE, 'YA THIEF!" Meryll yells. "'YA AIN'T GETTING 'YER HANDS ON MY VEGGIES!"

"Now, now," he breathes soothingly, "we don't want that frown tarnishing your beauty, do we?"

You cough behind Meryll's back, recognizing the compliment, and his eyes dart to you. "Lovely lady, I wish good health for you."

"SHUT 'YER MOUTH!"

Jaebeom's eyes remain on you, waiting for you to say something, and all you can do is wonder where the other team was. Surely, they must have heard the commotion by now?

Confused, you decide to scream, "Please stop stealing!"

"Women worrying about me is always appreciated," he chuckles, and you know he heard the awkwardness in your voice, "But fear not, fair maiden! It's not my time to be caught."

In the next second, both you and Meryll were paralyzed the same way you were during the drink shop encounter. You gasp while Meryll struggles against his spell. "WHAT DID 'YA DO TO US?! LET US GO!"

"It'll wear off soon." For a brief moment, his eyes were apologetic - even quite helpless - but it's gone too fast for you to believe it right away.

"My work is done here," he says as Meryll screams for help. The last you see of him before he turns away is his signature thieving grin and a blank look in his eyes.

"WHERE WERE 'YA WHEN WE NEEDED 'YA?!"

Your group of five were standing in Tuan household, watching as Meryll paced back and forth the small space.

"I told you already," Mark groans, "We thought we saw him, so we ran after him, but it was a trick. We rushed back to you, we caught him leaving, and he used his fire something spell on us."

"'YA SHOULDN'T HAVE FALLEN FOR HIS TRICKERY THEN!"

"I DIDN'T KNOW, OKAY?"

"Please stop fighting," begs Iyah, her hands in a pleading position, "There's nothing we can do. It's over. He escaped, but at least nothing happened to our crops. Let it go."

Mark visibly softens at her words, and he is quick to apologize to her. Meryll remains fuming, though, but it only takes a few seconds for her to glare at her brother before she heads to her room.

"Thank you for coming," Iyah says, turning to you and Bambam, "We didn't catch him, but at least we tried."

"It's late," adds Mark, "Let's all get some rest, shall we?"

After a few mutters of agreement, the two of them head up while you and Bambam head out.

Peace and silence ensue once more in the Tuan's farm. You breathe out and stick your hands in your pockets, the chilly autumn breeze combining with the cold of 2AM.

"Cold, isn't it?" Bambam meets you with a gentle smile on his face. "You know, (Y/N), I've heard of a better way to keep hands warm."

"Really?" you ask, eyebrows raised as you look at him expectantly, "Show me then."

You're vaguely aware you've stopped breathing when he takes a step to you. His plump lips remain grinning as he slowly takes your hand from your pocket and laces it with his.

You're about to make a remark when he puts it in his pocket, pulling you closer to him.

"Bambam," you breathe out, but there weren't any words you could think to follow that. It takes a moment for you to realize that you've also begun to walk.

“I’m going to be blunt about this and get it over with,” he suddenly says, causing you to turn to him with a curious look. Bambam returns your gaze and, on top of the bridge earlier and under the moonlight, you come to a stop.

“I like you, (Y/N).”

p r e v i o u s /  n e x t

#jaebum #jaebum scenarios #jaebum thief au #jaebum aus #jaebum fic #harvest moon au #harvest moon ds cute #got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 aus #got7 fic #bambam #bambam scenarios #im so sorry idk what this is

[awfully-sadistic]

Week 2: Oct 7th

The Adventures of Dot and Dodger

A series of linear prompt one-shots.

I might cheat a little with this one because it’s a pretty stressful day. It’s a little condensed due to family issues today preventing me from sitting down and letting me write without interruptions. It’s a hard day for inspiration and otherwise.

--

Dot likes to keep the weekends as free as she possibly could, starting from Friday through Sunday with no calls coming in from work at all. And she did not like to be bothered. She never understood that “work hard, play hard” mentality because she would rather not work herself into the ground, how else would you get to play hard? It was a major thing at the Agency since Agents tend to be on-call 24/7, even on their days off. Their motto seemed to be “Supernatural and Human affairs don’t take breaks and neither should you!” and it drove Dot up the wall, near crazy. She believed there shouldn’t be a life-long struggle with employment. You shouldn’t have to work yourself into the ground to make a living and put your hobbies and the things that make you happy on the shelves until its time to play with them. Those things should be just as important if not more. People often wonder what the key to happiness was but Dot largely suspected it wasn’t working your ass off and getting nothing to show for it if you have to live paycheck to paycheck. It seems obvious to her the key to happiness would be to push the things that make you happy to the forefront and that’s what Dot did; she valued her time off and her hobbies.

Supposing it didn’t hurt having a job you enjoyed doing, too. But even then, it’s good to take ample breaks from it. Even Supernatural and Human business have its gruesome moments.

Opening one’s own business allowed one to set their own hours and Dot made sure to take advantage of that.

When they were working out of her home, she tried her best to make her no-work weekends stick but there was always an emergency here or there that was knocking on her door at least once a weekend. It was disruptive and it never occurred at the hours one might think. Dot was a heavy sleeper anyway and for the most part, someone knocking on her door would have been easily ignored if not for Dodger being the second person the client would try for.

It was a partnership, after all. Both their names and numbers were in circulation.

Dodger put a very special ring on Dot’s phone for her whenever he’d call when she was asleep; he knew how heavy she slept. It always did the trick on waking her up. Dot just wished Dodger had the sense not to call her whenever he decided to take the client up on their request around the same time they came requesting it. But like her, he had a heavy sense of duty. Unlike her, that duty could always wait the next morning to get done.

Unfortunately, given Dot’s adamant belief that the weekends should be sacred, the first weekend of October was really busy for them. It wasn’t until they returned with the Cursed Lockbox on Thursday, October 3rd, that Dot remembered that Doctor Strange was due to return on a Friday.

Of course, it was technically the 4th when they returned from Whitecrest. It was 1AM when the trio lugged their suitcases into the Sanctum, up to their ankles squelching along the way.

“I’m glad we don’t have carpet here,” Dot muttered, making her way to her closet. Armand followed closely with the intent on changing out of his clothes with her.

Dodger, having taken the shower, but forgetting about having to re-step into the ankle-deep flooding once he stepped out of the inn had sat down and started to pull his shoes off.

Once the trio were dried and their spirits renewed, or that may have just been the comfort of being back home, they stared at the lockbox Dodger had put down on top of one of the many desks that made up The Pen.

“I’m kind of worried about leaving this in the Sanctum overnight.” Dot said, glancing between both Dodger and Armand. She couldn’t help but smile a big wider noting the shared pajama outfits she and Armand donned.

“No kidding,” Dodger agreed. “It’s already in a lockbox but it was still powerful enough to seep out of its confines to still curse the crew of the Ocean Spray.”

“That’s another good point. I wonder why they had it in the first place.” Dot questioned.

Dodger made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat that sounded like a cross between a grunt and a hum. “I wish I had the thought to check for a logbook in the Captain’s Quarters,” he said. “it might have given us a little insight to their inventory.”

“They might not have realized that what they were carrying was Cursed, either.” Dot pointed out.

“Good point. Either way, this is Doctor Strange’s territory.”

“It would have been good to at least given him some more information.”

“We’ll just tell him what we were told.”

Dot floundered a bit. There was nothing wrong with what Dodger was saying but this was Doctor Strange. Her expression conveyed what she couldn’t quite argue against sound logic.

“What?” Dodger asked, studying Dot’s features.

“Doesn’t that sound a little… I don’t know, lackluster? He asked us to do this job and while we accomplished what I think he meant, this just feels a little unfinished. There’s a Cursed item in that lockbox but we don’t have any information about where it came from or why it was in the Ocean Spray. If there was a chance of those questions being answered from this logbook you were talking about, we should have had the sense to look for it. It’s not like we’re not new at this.”

There was a silence where Dot thought Dodger was thinking. His expression looked as thoughtful as he mulled over her statement. With a little nod of his head, he finally replied. “I get what you mean. You feel like we didn’t do a thorough job with this case. I can agree but on the other hand, you have to understand we don’t know much about Curses in the first place. Not even the Agency with a more established background—”

“Hey.”

“—Not saying that we’re not established, I’m just pointing out that even with all the years the Agency had been in operation, they’re just as clueless about Curses as we are. Allegedly.”

Dot gave Dodger a side-eye before sighing. “Yeah, honey. I know. It just feels like we could have done more.”

“Are you sure you’re not just feeling that way because this is Doctor Strange?”

Dot paused. Realized. Then flushed. “W-We do the same things for our other Clients…” she haughtily put, trying to save face and take control of the conversation again.

Armand circled around Dot, “Why did your cheeks turn red like that?” he asked with a childlike innocence that struck Dot in the heart. She stretched out her arm and grabbed Armand by the shoulder, tugging him over. Her other hand landed on the back of his head and she pulled him down, into her bosom.

“Good lord, child.” She cooed. She began to stroke his hair, mothering and smothering becoming a very fine line at the moment. When she heard Dodger chuckle, she looked up. “What?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll put in a call at the Whitecrest inn. I’ll inquire about the ship’s log and see if there was any attempt at acquiring it when it first washed ashore.”

“But that’s got to be more than a hundred years ago…” Dot shook her head, “There not might be any record left.”

“We might get lucky,” Dodger was saying with renewed interest. He had that glint in his eye that alluded to the fact he may have remembered something important, “Usually, there are two types of logs. The Captain’s journal about the journey at sea and an inventory log. The inventory logs are recorded twice; for the Captain and a copy for the land. Remember what that old guy was saying about the registry around the time Fitzsimmons was uh, alive?”

Dot’s eyes widened, “If they kept records of the registry from that long ago, they might have the ship’s inventory log!”

Dodger nodded and Dot released Armand to clap her hands in joy, “Dodger, you’re so smart!”

There was a certain pride that touched on Dodger’s smile after hearing Dot’s praise. It was usually hard to praise him considering he was almost always distracted with something else to participate in conversations, only chirping in to lend his two cents. After he said what he had to, he’d usually tune out. But that was Dodger with regular people. His attention to Dot was as intense as his gaze, and her praise never fell short on his ears. He never knew how to respond to it, though. In this instance, he cleared his throat and started, “Well, I better get on with that phone call.” To excuse himself out of the room.

“Dodger, it’s like, one in the morning.” Dot called after him but he was already ducking out of the office. She turned to Armand, “Where is he going?”

Armand looked wide-eyed confused and shrugged. It was a rhetorical question and she hadn’t expected Armand to answer but it was damn cute he had. She laughed, reaching over to straighten out the mess of hair she had caused when she smothered him with affection.

“Speaking of one in the morning, what do you do for sleep?” she asked.

Armand gestured over with his head towards the Grandfather Clock. “I go in there and it’s hard to explain but I think the closest thing is like recharging my battery.” He chuckled lowly, lowering his head to allow Dot better access to the top of his head.

Dot frowned and dropped her hands as soon as she was finished sorting out his soft strands, “So, you have to sleep in Armand, Sr.?”

“I can sleep anywhere but if I need to restore energy I have to go back to my bound item for it to affect me.”

Dot’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as she listened and then asked, “Are you low on energy right now? And if not… how can we tell if you are?”

Armand laughed, a shy sound. “You’ll know. I will act different. Out of sorts. Spacy. And I will not have any energy to become physical.”

Dot nodded with understanding. “Okay. That’s good, I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.” she paused and then asked, “Do you know how long you can go without sleeping in Armand, Sr. before your energy starts to drain?”

Armand looked thoughtful, “It depends on how much energy I deplete. If I’m spending my entire days as my corporeal form, I’ll expend more energy. It’s not much but it’ll start to add up before I realize I can’t change anymore. And if I do something really straining, I’ll deplete it faster. But if I’m just hanging around with using the least amount of energy, I can last for days without sleeping.”

“I don’t want you going without sleep,” Dot said. She couldn’t explain it but it felt like seeing Armand in little clothes go out in cold weather even if he couldn’t feel cold. It would make her worry and so Armand neglecting “sleep” was the same way. She was protective by nature and overprotective of the ones she loved; Armand struck her nurturing chord so many times, she was beginning to note she could fuss over him without a second thought. He was childlike which made the urge that much stronger.

She glanced at Armand, Sr. with another frown tugging downward on her lips. “and it makes me feel bad that you have to sleep in Armand, Sr. in the Sanctum by yourself.”

Dot and Dodger have their own homes to go back to. Armand was found living in their office, so to speak. Armand shifted around Dot, walking around her. She was beginning to see that he did that often, especially if he was trying to understand something about their expression or their words. It was a pretty odd habit of his, in the cutest way of course.

“I don’t feel bad,” he told her. “it’s where I’ve been for a very long time.”

Dot’s brows furrowed as she thought about that, “Yeah, that reminds me, how did you end up here?”

Armand opened his mouth to speak but he stopped short, realizing he didn’t know what to say. Confusion clouded his features and he closed his mouth, twisting his lips as he thought or tried to that far back.

“…I… don’t know…” he said, almost in a haze.

Dot was beginning to see that there were many more unanswered questions Armand brought up for every few he managed to answer. She didn’t ask again mainly because it wouldn’t do any good. She figured, that down the road, they’d eventually find out more about Armand.

Everything buried gets dug up eventually.

Instead, she nodded. “I wonder if we can see about making one of these rooms a make-shift sleeping area. It’d make me feel better about leaving you here by yourself. Even if you’re not bothered by it, I am, love.” Dot placed her hand on Armand’s arm, giving it the motherly gesture of a cross between a pat and a rub. “You’re not just a ghost to me or even to Dodger, no matter how he conveys it verbally. I know how he feels. He gets just as worried about you as I do. And you have feelings like we do, it just seems weird leaving you here by yourself.”

“How is it different from you and Dodger living by yourself?” Armand asked. He didn’t mean any harm by it, he genuinely wanted to know. But Dot had an answer for that one, too.

“We live in places we chose for ourselves. We don’t live in an object we’re bound to. We chose where we lay our heads. I may not know how you became bound to your Clock, but are you going to stand there and tell me it doesn’t bother you? Bound items bind you for a reason. You can’t go too far out of range from yours, right?”

Armand didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Dot was right. Dodger had asked Armand if he could make the trip to Whitecrest while they were getting packed and while Dot didn’t think of it at the time, Dodger must have thought it through. Armand must have known what Dodger had meant because he had replied with a quiet yes and that was the last they had spoken about it.

“I don’t know how far Armand, Sr. lets you travel since you went to Whitecrest well enough, but there’s got to be some sort of drawback. Do you know what they are?”

Armand shook his head. Dot bit her lip with another frown.

“That’s alright, too. When the time comes, we’ll figure things out together.”

Armand didn’t say anything again but he did rest his cheek against the top of Dot’s head, drawing her into a hug that held on a little too tightly. She didn’t say any more than that, and returned the gesture giving him a hug just as tight.

That night, the trio had separated with the intention on meeting at the Sanctum tomorrow afternoon. Dot was the last one into the office pushing past the waiting area and into The Pen where Armand and Dodger were seated, talking to each other.

She set down three cups of coffee she had picked up from the successful chain franchise, Starluck, and sat with them. “So, what are we talking about?” she asked, carefully testing her drink. It was the sweetest item their menu had to offer and about the only time she’d spend an absurd amount of money on coffee. She had ordered the same for Armand and Dodger got the same Iced Mocha drink he always got whenever he went with her.

“Doctor Strange left a message,” Dodger revealed. Dot, who was beginning to take a drink, stopped. He continued, “He said he wouldn’t be able to make it tonight. Tomorrow, though. Work was taking longer than expected.”

Dot’s shoulders slumped and she sighed. It wasn’t Stephen’s fault but she wasn’t going to lie to herself and say she wasn’t disappointed. “Alright, then we’ll just meet up here tomorrow.”

“Oh, we also got a call from Whitecrest’s record keeping department. I was telling Armand I was just as surprised to hear that they had one as well as the affirmative we received on the ship’s inventory log.”

Dot gasped, “This coffee is way too hot!” She cursed quietly before taking up a more excited tone as she registered what Dodger was telling her. “We got it, then? They can give it to us?”

“They’ve already sent it out but we won’t receive it again until next week. It is the weekend after all.”

Dot groaned, “And Stephen’s not coming today but tomorrow, can this weekend’s start suck anymore?”

“I’m sure he’d understand about the log.”

Dot nodded, knowing Stephen would be more than grateful for the information they had just obtained. She just wished it all went off without a hitch.

“Did anything strange happen while the lockbox was here?” Dot asked, looking over at Armand. She might as well ask as long as they were going to hang out for a little while.

He had stayed overnight in the clock since there was really no other place for him to go. Dot had suggested they could bring Armand, Sr. to her house since they knew he could at least travel three hours out of its hold. But Dot also had the thought that Armand would have to retreat to her home if something happened while at work. It was best to leave Armand, Sr. in the office and just bring in a spare bed like Dot had originally planned.

In the meantime, Armand was going to stay at the office by himself. He didn’t think that was any big deal but Dot couldn’t help but feel bad about it. Armand wasn’t admitting that beneath his denials there was an air of loneliness he wasn’t willing to touch on. Dot had no idea how long Armand had been alone but she could feel at least that much. She was thankful for her empathy abilities sometimes but that didn’t mean she’d bring it up unprovoked if Armand wasn’t aware. She’d wait in the meantime, but there was simply no fooling her.

“I thought I heard some sounds,” Armand revealed. “but when I searched around the Sanctum, I didn’t see anybody.”

“And the television wasn’t on?” Dodger asked.

Dot had the sneaking suspicion that there was something familiar about this conversation but she couldn’t place her finger on it. Armand continued, “No, I didn’t see or hear any of the appliances on.”

Dodger had figured putting the lockbox in the room in the back across from Dot’s closet was a good bet because it was furthest way and there was nothing in that room in case it influenced anything. It was a huge space and even going back there to retrieve the lockbox had given Dodger a bad feeling, he had explained.

“Well, let’s try not to put anything weird in that room.” Dot reasoned. It was only half a joke. She still had no idea what the hell they were going to do with it but she figured, weird things weren’t going to be in their office anyway.

A day later, she could have laughed at the irony.

Because a day later, they were staring at Doctor Strange who was explaining that he would appreciate if they could convert that back room into an artifact storage system.

“Come again?” Dodger asked.

Dot was still gaping.

Doctor Strange who had finished speaking glanced between the two and then chuckled. Their reactions were priceless in the good Doctor’s eyes. “Did you really need me to repeat that?” he asked, “or was that an exclamation of disbelief?”

“A little bit of both,” Dot admitted.

“Yes, well, I’m aware this is an unusual request but you’ve really proved yourselves upon carrying out the task I had unfairly asked of you. I had an inkling what this may have been about,” he spoke, indicating the lockbox nearly forgotten in Stephen’s presence but he drew attention to it now. His gaze was upon it as if it might misbehave in his presence and he dared it to do as much. “I know the boundaries and limitations I’ve asked your government to adhere to if they were to enlist my services; for one, Cursed items are a priority—”

“Not a top priority?” Dodger interrupted.

Stephen smiled, “No. There are worse things that draw my attention.” There was absolutely no comfort in that but Stephen seemed to gloss over it because he continued as if what he said wasn’t startling enough, “But there are classifications in which Curses can be handled. I wasn’t sure how far this world’s progressed in terms of handling them but you three seemed to accomplish what even the Agency could not. I’m pleased to see that my faith had not been misplaced.”

“All we did was pull it out of the ocean and hold onto it until you came to retrieve it,” Dot simply put. There was no lie to that, whatsoever. But it didn’t bring the comforting thought that Stephen might have tasked them with something they weren’t completely equipped to handle. What made him so sure that they were going to be fine?

Stephen turned his gaze onto Dot. It turned a touch warmer and his smile deepened and Dot was relieved of any previous worries. All she could think about was Doctor Strange’s attention on her. “Fascinating how the Agency couldn’t even pull that off, right? Even with the same equipment the two companies have, yet somehow, you three were able to complete this task.”

The simplified way Dot had recounted the tale made it seem that this task had been anything but when Stephen worded it that way. She cast him a look of confusion but Dodger wasn’t as affected by Stephen’s charm. He circled back to their previous thought.

“How did you know we’d be able to do it? It could have Cursed us in very much the same way as the crew we saw on the Ocean Spray. We would have had no way to help ourselves without knowing what harm it could have caused us. Worst case scenario, one of us could have died from the exposure somehow.”

“You weren’t pawns,” Stephen clarified as soon as he seemed to realize where their thoughts have taken them. His expression had hardened at Dodger’s accusation but this was a serious claim, too. Dot had to give Stephen credit when he didn’t shy away from explaining himself, however, there was a regretful expression on his face that matched his somber tone, “but I wasn’t entirely 100% certain what the outcome would be; I knew the Curse to be relatively harmless in terms of humans, I just couldn’t say the same for Armand. Even so, I had faith that you three would be what I was looking for.”

The regretful expression on his face seemed to be guilt. He was admitting something that had ashamed him. It made Dot sympathize with him but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was somehow more to that. She couldn’t gloss over the fact that he knew Armand might have come to harm, too. She was quiet for a long time, trying to get a handle of her own emotions before speaking because she knew she’d say something that’d be more emotional than adding to the conversation. The last thing anyone needed to do right now was point fingers.

“…It was a test,” Dodger clarified after it had dawned on him. Dot whipped her head towards Dodger who had spoke it and then to Stephen who had verified it.

“Why?” was all she asked, confused and to be truthful, hurt. Everything she had ever read and heard about Doctor Strange indicated that he didn’t involve citizens in the circumstances of his work. In fact, he hardly ever involved anyone from Earth-6969. Granted, Doctor Strange’s responsibilities weren’t entirely known throughout the world, the Agency and the government in working together with Earth-616 shared information. So, Dot and her crew weren’t exactly citizens if she was privy to this information in the first place, but Stephen mainly took on his duties working alone or with any other superhero from 616.

Was that changing? And if so, it all leads back to the question why?

Stephen sighed, taking a moment to wager his words. Long ago, Dot had offered them the seating area she had cultivated just for her guests like Stephen so that was where they sat. Tea cups and coffee mugs sat forgotten and getting colder on the coffee table and snacks half-eaten. No one felt hungry.

“To be honest, I need help.”

Dot shared a look of surprise with Dodger. Armand glanced over just to express his confusion. Everything was going over his head and he was going to have to ask Dot what this meant later on. For now, he knew there was a serious conversation taking place and he was afraid to speak.

Stephen continued, “Taking on the responsibilities of two realms is difficult. I’m not saying I cannot do it, I’m just saying I cannot do it alone. For some reason, your earth lacks a protector. I’m supposing it’s a big factor for why the Great War happened the way that it did, your planet being severely underprepared for it. The tear that merges our two worlds cannot be as easily fixed by merely severing it. By now it’s common knowledge that the two realms exist and are connected in some way, but it’s been so long that these two worlds are now feeding off each other’s energies that attempting to sever one planet from another can cause catastrophic events for both worlds.

We’re leaving it alone for now but things are shifting; people from 616 are coming over to…6969 while people from your realm are coming into ours. In the last decade, this change is finally beginning to show the consequences. From anything major such as our earth’s villains crossing over to make their stake on your planet to minor examples as with the strained relationship between the Supernatural and Human beings, it reflects on those who have the same discrimination in our realm reigniting old flames that were beginning to die down.

Of course, your planet isn’t going untouched, either. You might be seeing more and more of our superheroes cross over in attempt to clean up the messes by migrating villains. And 6969 civilians are holding protests on pushing one side of Supernatural sympathizers onto 616, creating a skewed view of their own Utopia. All in all, it’s a mess and the Agency or either government aren’t showing any attempt at cleaning it with the exception of S.H.I.E.L.D. which acts as the world-wide law enforcement for our planet. For which the powers that be in the council were more or less content to push this off to. For the most part, it’s left up to us superheroes of 616. As for 6969, we’ve been looking through many Agents of the organization who want to make a difference. Civilians who show signs of Supernatural abilities are recruited into the Agency as soon as they are located so it makes for a nice hub to start searching, however, it also puts us in a hard place when you can’t find what you’re looking for. We’ve searched and failed to come up with any prospective candidates until hearing about two Agents that branched off on their own…”

Stephen cast an expectant look on all three of them. A deliberate look that couldn’t have been misunderstood.

Dot swallowed thickly, slowly rolling all of this information around in her head. Her first thought was that she should pick up a newspaper more often or at least watch the news. Being at the Agency, they were supplied with what went on with the world on the terms as the Agency’s need to fix it—Dot had never looked at it that way before, either. They might have been fed propaganda as if the Agency wasn’t as sketchy as it was. In another realization, Dot realized she was really ignorant about what went on in the world, too. She got away from the Agency because she wanted to do more good in helping people instead of turning an eye as the Agency often did but she never questioned why they did; she figured it was because majority of those cases were not promoting enough and the people they usually passed on were of no consequence, justice wasn’t being done for the little guy.

To be honest, reading about the exploits of 616’s Spider-Man filled her with the confidence to do just that.

“The Agency really does that?” Armand had asked, calling attention to himself. He had been quiet this entire time. But hearing about the Agency always compelled him to ask questions. It was the one major power just beneath the White House and its Secret Service in its importance. It was an organization that was well-known but at the same time, secretive.

“Does what, love?” Dot asked, grateful for the break from this mind-boggling revelation.

“Recruit people who show abilities like you and Dodger? What if you don’t want to go?”

Dot blinked. It was a fact she had almost forgotten. It was so ingrained that it didn’t seem unusual to anybody. “I mean, I guess. And I’ve never really thought about it before. I suppose it’s not like volunteering for the Army. You have to go once you start showing signs of anything peculiar about you.”

“You can correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m under the impression that humans here who start showing signs start at infancy once the need for preservation had died out years and years ago.” Stephen added. “From what I’m told, the Agency takes note of these children and when they become of age, they adopt a boarding school lifestyle.”

Dot nodded, “You’re absolutely right. Fun fact! I was a late case. When I was born, my empathy abilities were hard to detect and the Agency had no way of figuring out how to pick that out from any of the other crying babies in the hospital. Apparently, empathy was a rare case! Most special babies were super strong already or did other things, like shoot beams from their eyes and stuff. I just seemed like a regular baby. And this was before the A.R.T.I.I. glasses! Which would have saved a lot of trouble if we had them back them.

Anyway!

Since infancy, I felt strong emotions and for the most part was just a really happy or fussy baby. So, my dad said. When I was about six, I was exhibiting strange mood swings that I became unmanageable. I would throw tantrums out of nowhere or I’d start crying my eyes out or laughing hysterically in the middle of public places; I had no way of knowing that other people were influencing my emotions and I especially did not know how to tune them out when it got to be too much. As you can imagine, it created a strained relationship between me and my parents. I felt like I didn’t understand them and they definitely did not understand me. It didn’t help that I was feeling their emotions every time they had to “deal” with me.”

Dot cleared her throat, bypassing all the painful old stuff she would have to drudge up if she went any further. It was not something she wanted to get into right now. Or ever. She avoided delving too deeply in the sympathetic looks she was getting and put on a more brightened tone to finish off her story for Armand.

“One day, the Agency was just at my door and basically, my parents couldn’t wait to get rid of me. But I learned that I wasn’t normal. The boarding school has a lot of teachers that help you learn about your abilities based on what you got. They helped you readjust to life in the real world, basically, by teaching you how to control them. There’s further training if you show interest on wanting to be an Agent. And I didn’t want to go back home, so…”

“You became an Agent.” Stephen finished.

“Yep!” Dot beamed. She was surprised when Stephen put a hand on her head, giving her short-cut curly hair a ruffle. It was a sweet gesture, full of affection.

Armand looked sad when Dot faced him. She was about to reassure him when he stated, “I don’t think I like the Agency.”

Dot laughed, “We all don’t, honey. It wasn’t until much later that I realized that they weren’t the salvation I was looking for. I can get behind the idea of helping others but I don’t like the way they do it if they can be bothered at all. And now that I think about it, that recruitment thing is pretty weird, too…”

“Which makes me wonder why they let us go at all.” Dodger commented. “The Agency is a huge organization but I never thought they’d be the only organization to handle Human-Supernatural relations. Surely, they’d feel a little threatened with our start up?” This gave Dot pause because she had never thought of it like that, either. But then Dodger added his personal signature of realism, “Of course, they’re a big entity and we’re three people who have but one official case under our belts. I suppose the rivalry isn’t there.”

“…Good job, Dodge.” Dot deadpanned.

“And now Doctor Strange wants us to play heroes.”

Dodger’s bluntness was going to give Dot a heart attack one day.

“Not play, but be.” he corrected. “And it’s not just me, there’s other powers here at work.”

This just brought back the bombshell he had put onto their laps. Dot still couldn’t fathom the entire thing. Stephen’s coming to them was merely a test but they passed. He still gave them a dangerous task on handling a Cursed item without knowing the consequences that she wanted to scold him for but looking at him now, she couldn’t muster up the courage.

“Adding to that,” Dot said, at least giving in to an urge to give him trouble. “you’re asking us to renovate the back room into a Cursed artifact room like we’re the Warrens or something.”

Doctor Strange looked surprised. “Sometimes it amazes me that similarities between our planets.” But he came to his senses and added, “Well, that’s more of a personal request. But yes.”

“That sounds incredibly dangerous. We don’t know how to handle Curses much less understand how to store them. Do we bless them individually? And the entire room? Especially after we add a new item? I assume we have to keep the room locked but do we avoid getting 13 locks or should we get 13 locks to keep with the theme of curses and superstitions? Do we need a priest?”

Stephen held a hand up, laughing at Dot’s rapid-firing questions. “Sweetheart, don’t worry. You’re not going to be doing this alone and in no way will you be in any danger of the Cursed items I’ll have you holding on for me.”

Dot had stopped short the instant he called her sweetheart and had been hooked on that word that she almost didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. “You’ll… be working with us again?”

“Of course. I hope you did not think I’d ask this of you and that’d be that.”

“Well, no, I just didn’t think that far at all.”

Stephen laughed again, this time leaning forward to his coffee. When he put it to his lips, he didn’t at all seemed bothered that the coffee was cold. That was until Dot realized that there was slight steam coming out of the mug in little vapors. She looked down at her mug and picked it up, realizing that it was warm in her hand.

“I went to the trouble of refilling our glasses,” Stephen said, setting his mug down. “the other ones were cold. Except for Dodger. You seem to like your iced coffee.”

Dodger nodded with appreciation, seeing that he had another serving when he had finished his before. “Thank you.”

Dot and Armand exchanged gleeful expressions before Dot turned her appreciation to Stephen, too. “Thank you!” she exclaimed, quite amazed at his handiwork. Aside from his cape and portal entrances (or exits), she hadn’t seen Stephen utilize anymore magic until this moment. And even then, it was subtle.

“This is a big undertaking I’m asking of you but I have to insist on acting upon it.” Stephen continued the flow of the seriousness of the conversation. That snapped the three into serious mode as well. “I have my work in 616 that calls for most of my attention but 6969 is in dire need of attention, too. I need you three to be my Wong in this world.”

“…Wong?” Armand asked.

Dodger’s gaze squinted. Even he didn’t seem sure what Stephen was saying. “Is this some sort of magical term?”

Dot seemed to be the only one aware in the room what Stephen had meant considering the scary amount of attention she paid to the supers. She chuckled in her drink, occupying with carefully drinking it while Stephen laughed.

“Wong is my friend. He’s in 616’s Sanctum. My partner, if you will. If you cannot reach me, you’ll most definitely be able to reach Wong. In the meantime, I’ll be using your room the duration of the weekend to prepare for the Artifacts that will be stored there from here on out.”

Dot was startled, putting her mug down. “Wait, already?”

Stephen, standing up, paused. “Yes, my dear. Is there anything you need to get out of there before I start?”

“O-Oh no, it’s empty! I just meant… I thought you were going to start later. And even so, you’re going to need the whole weekend?”

“Yes and as they say, the sooner, the better, correct?”

Dot laughed nervously. It wasn’t so much as Stephen’s saying but the fact that these artifacts were going to be kept in their office. Supposing that’s what they get for naming their office the Sanctum Sanctorum. Then Doctor Strange gets involved. Was this some kind of cosmic joke?

Doctor Strange wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to get to work. He took off his cape and that was the last they saw of him behind the closed door until a few hours later when he emerged for a break. Dot and Armand were in the middle of discovering all the strange things Stephen’s cape was capable of and Dodger had been recording everything from their meeting and Strange’s cape into D.I.D.. Stephen’s cape did a playful flutter in Dot and Armand’s face before sweeping up to Stephen’s side and he clasped it back around himself.

“I’m taking a break but I did want to add,” He paused as he was talking as he fussed with his cape, “I’ve taken the liberty of also connecting my 616 Sanctum to yours. There’s no reason for it to be connected to the one in your New York; there’s nothing in there. It will also allow for the quick and painless transfer of artifacts between hands in case we need to move things around from the two areas.”

Dot’s eyes were round and she was speechless. Just like that he was going to connect his Sanctum to theirs; a personal way to get to 616 from 6969????? And he was just talking about it like it was a hallway into another room. Dot never thought she’d be able to step foot in 616 in her entire lifetime much less have it in her backyard. Or quite literally, across from her closet.

“The artifacts will be safe?” Dodger asked, ever the one to pick up slack.

Stephen nodded, “I give you my word.”

Dot raised her hands, “Well, there we go. Doctor Strange’s word! Everything will turn out great!”

“Please, call me Stephen.” He offered. Dot didn’t want to tell him she was already calling him Stephen other places but still couldn’t help but flush slightly at the permission. It was one thing calling him Stephen to Dodger and Armand but to his face?

“A-Alright.” She laughed a tad shyly.

Stephen looked appeased, his gaze lingering a touch longer on Dot before he moved it to Dodger and Armand before insisting they start with something for lunch. Around the time Stephen returned to work on the Artifact room, Dodger was taking off to go home. Dot would go home a few hours later but she wanted to spend more time in the same place Stephen was working. There was something reassuring just looking at the door this great Sorcerer was behind, working away and doing magnificent things she could only imagine. Armand had retired to his clock, having stated that it’d be pretty nice to have their company all weekend which swayed Dot bring home Armand during the weekends and they’ll see from there whether or not Armand, Sr. would need to be moved back and forth.

The weekend was filled with visiting the office and hearing some questionable noises in the backroom while Stephen worked. Dot found herself eager to see what the outcome would be. It wasn’t until Monday, Oct 7th, that Stephen had emerged for good.

They were seated at the “Livingroom” area Dot had deemed once more and Stephen was explaining to them what he had done.

“The artifact room is secure to hold any degree of Cursed item. I will take care of the management myself, ensuring that the spells I have put in place are not weakening. So many Cursed items in one place, as one can imagine, creates an abundance of bad energy. It can spill over if the protective spells I weave weaken and depending on the severity of the room, it could weaken over time. Which is why I will be stopping by every so often to make sure it holds up well. Of course, granted I have your permission—”

“Definitely, yep. Yes. Please come over.” Dot insisted. If not for Stephen’s presence alone, the thought of all the bad juju Curses emit had Dodger and Armand nodding in agreement.

“—Thank you, that simplifies things.” Stephen chuckled, “Now, with the completion of the Artifact room, there is still the manner of S.H.I.E.L.D. getting in touch with you in order to merge forces—”

“Wait, what?”

Stephen glanced at Dot when she sparked her outburst. He looked amused. “As a continuation of our chat over the weekend, I should say I largely came here as a representative. There is still the manner of forming an organization here that reflects the ideal of the unification between the two realms; S.H.I.E.L.D. is our force and the Agency was supposed to be yours. But I believe as I’ve stated before, we’ve settled our sights elsewhere.”

It dawned on Dot, “…Oh, yeah… the talk from before. You… you were really serious about that, huh?” she laughed, sounding a little frayed. The idea was too spectacular if she could honestly say so. Exciting but, too ambitious. “This… was supposed to be a private investigation firm. I mean, we’re only licensed as such…” she said, already feeling herself trying to talk their way out of it. Or perhaps she felt a little too humbled. Either way, it was making her head spin.

There was a beat of silence and then Stephen said, “Do you want to know why we focused on you?”

Dot glanced up, feeling herself wanting to say no. But at the same time, she wanted to know. Stephen continued when she couldn’t make up her mind to answer.

“We’ve seen it all before. The governments, the people divided, it’s only going to get messier if the wrong side gets chosen. The direction of relations between your species is in its infancy. Only recently are Humans and Supernaturals working together to create the future you, personally, want to see. But at the same time, there are forces against you that are willing to plunge your world back into the dark ages from ever bearing the fruit of your labors. This line of separation between species, we’ve been there before. In fact, it still rings around my planet even today but your planet is the point at one end of the spectrum that shows us how far we could fall if we don’t do something to change the direction we seem to be going and with the realization that our planets are now bound, it could get messy if there’s a separation on two global scales. We cannot control people but we can continue to set good examples to sway their views, their feelings. We just need a power as great as superheroes in our world to help deliver that message here.”

“Again, you want us to be heroes…” Dodger trailed off, the notion too big for him to swallow. “Like superheroes.”

“Like superheroes.” Stephen repeated. “Your world needs superheroes. Not the Agency.”

“But your world has S.H.I.E.L.D., too.” Dodger argued, “which from what I’m understanding is kind of like the Agency but not as corrupted.”

“It can be corrupted is what I’m saying. But for the most part, it’s not. It is genuinely in it for the best interest of its people; civilian and superhero alike. Even if the two sides are at odds with each other sometimes.”

“Why can’t you work with the Agency on this?” Dot asked. It wasn’t that she was dismissing the idea of helping Stephen or even… becoming a superhero in some weird sense, but why couldn’t the Agency change?

“It’s… compromised.” Stephen finally admitted. He seemed to say it begrudgingly as if he had been trying to hold off on divulging the information. He was holding off on saying more despite Dodger and Dot asking what he had meant. He looked troubled and on the verge of bending, catching Dot’s gaze and the confusion there making him want to share. She had a certain way of looking at him that made him feel chastised; he felt it the first time he admitted his intentions with the Cursed Lockbox and now. 

Perhaps it was the universe giving Stephen the much-needed break he deserved when a new voice interjected; a commanding tone. One that sounded like he was in charge of the conversation even though he was the one who hijacked it:

“There’s another reason why we focused on you.”

Stephen turned, letting out a slight exhale at the frame that emerged from behind their seating area. It seemed that Nicholas Fury was going to be his salvation for today.

#{{ original drabbles: spooktober 2019

[theessaflett]

To All The Ghosts I’ve Loved Before: A Farewell Letter to 53a

Written by Elisabeth Flett 

Elisabeth perches on the bed mid-move, March 2019.

How do you say goodbye to something that can’t say goodbye back?

That was the question I found myself asking as stood in the middle of my boxed-up flat, my beloved home for the last four years.

To understand the magnitude of this impossible farewell we need to go back to June 2015, when a unhappy, stressed-out 19 year old first stepped inside 53a. Like so many other second year university students these days I was emerging battered and shaken from a disastrous flat-share, my fresher’s week hopes and dreams of a rosy uni experience from the year before long since gone. I was out of my depth, winging it and wearing my best jacket and quite a lot of make-up in the hope that the estate agent wouldn’t realise that I was still a teenager. Nightmarish images of the truly uninhabitable hovels I’d viewed the previous year with my soon-to-be new flatmates had played in my mind on the bus journey there, as had all the warnings from concerned friends that moving into a flat on my own would be a terrible idea. What would happen if I was burgled? What about if I became horribly ill and needed someone to look after me? As I stood there in the empty flat, the estate agent hovering impatiently next to me, I could see that at least the worry of this place being a hovel wasn’t going to be an issue. Okay sure, there were some cracks and peeling paint here and there, but compared to the underground basement off Brick Lane I remembered viewing in 2014 (no windows, mouldy sofa and nuclear bomb-site worthy toilet…the most worrying part was that I genuinely considered it as a possibility because we were so desperate) it was practically a paradise. The shower was in the main room. The toilet was in a tiny cupboard so small that you couldn’t really shut the door if you sat down on the loo.

It wasn’t much. But it would be mine, and mine alone.

“I’d like to put a deposit on the flat,” I said, trying to feel like an adult but only succeeding in feeling like a child pretending to be a grown-up. A truly terrifying amount of money passed hands, and that was it. I was moving into my first ever studio flat. Sure, it was on the same street as two strip clubs and next to a kebab shop, a nightclub and a taxi delivery service, but what could go wrong? Single living, here I came.

It seemed like a great idea until the first night on my own. Lying there terrified, I listened to every creak, every grumble from the traffic, and was convinced that a hundred axe-wielding murderers lay in wait outside my front door. What was that noise from the landing outside? Should I call the police? My parents, wearily supportive, took my hysterical whispered 1am phone call with good grace but suggested that since this was going to be my living situation for the foreseeable future I should find some way to cope with these entirely irrational fears of horror movie break-ins. Thankfully, it didn’t end up being a big problem; one night of not being hacked to pieces was all it took for me to settle down to the idea that I probably wasn’t going to be horribly murdered in my sleep. It was just as well, as not long afterwards I had my first real nighttime “Situation”…

Picture the scene. You’re nineteen. You’ve recently moved into a flat, on your own, into a part of London you don’t know. For all the above reasons, you’re a bit on edge anyway. And then, at 2am, you’re woken by an almighty crash. I’m talking loud. You lie there, wide awake, hoping that it was part of your dream. And then you hear it. The ominous hhhhssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.

Worried now, you get up, turn a light on, blearily searching for the hissing noise whilst still mostly asleep. You grew up in a house with a gas cooker so in your sleep-ridden state you first check the electric hobs for any suspicious smells, then when that unsurprisingly doesn’t give you any clues you check the boiler in the hallway. It’s not that either. At a loss, you then step into the tiny toilet cupboard, noticing the floor is wet. Something has broken in the toilet, maybe? You idly notice a can of air freshener on top of the toilet cistern, move it out of the way. And then, very dramatically, the bookshelf on the wall - the one your father built himself but didn’t screw in quite enough, the one that had fallen directly down onto the air freshener can and by some mad, wild law of physics was balancing on its nozzle head, causing the air freshener to spray all over the bathroom, the one that now with no air freshener can beneath it continued its downwards trajectory - came crashing down onto my head, with all its contents along with it. Dazed, I lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, surrounded by broken bits of bookcase and battered paperbacks, and mused that this was definitely not on the list of things people had warned me about.

Some of the challenges I had to cope with were a little more expected, if entirely unwelcome.

I have, embarrassingly enough for someone who grew up in the countryside, a very real phobia of rodents, and discovering that I had a few mice for visitors in the winter of 2015 was enough to send me in a state of terror that I found very embarrassing but could do nothing to ease. My Top Two Least Dignified Mice Moments over the years were probably when A) a mouse ran across my floor and I screamed hysterically into the phone to a friend who had to then talk me down from the chair I’d jumped on when spotting the offending rodent, and was still stuck on despite the mouse having run off half an hour previously. B) was a little more traumatising; finding a dead mouse next to my kitchen bin and finding out that I couldn’t “pick it up and put it in the bin” as my Grandma impatiently suggested when I phoned her…because my knees actually gave out when I tried to pick it up and I just fell over whilst hyperventilating. Another London friend of mine very kindly rushed over and came to my aid. I was so grateful I even forgave her when she waved it towards me going,” Look, it’s all stiff!”

Various challenges came up over the years: the time that water came through the light fittings and dripped from doorways because a water tank on the roof had burst; the time that water came through the kitchen ceiling; the time that the toilet upstairs leaked into my Toilet Cupboard…three times in four weeks, but who’s counting; the time that my shower, fridge, washing machine and tap all broke in the space of a month; the time that the creepy guy next door tried to persuade me to take him in as a roommate despite there only being one bed in my flat; the time that the floor started to move; the very scary time a group of drugged up guys were hanging out outside the front door and wouldn’t let me in; the time I was stuck in bed with flu for three days and, as warned by those friends when I first moved in, I indeed had to crawl to the sink myself rather croak out a request for water to someone else. The front door was regularly graffitied. The electricity meter could only be topped up by a easily losable key card. The stairs creaked, and got steadily more creaky over the years, the front door lock broke more times than I can count and the street fights stopped being exotic entertainment and starting just being annoying within the first few months. I hadn’t quite anticipated the sheer level of noise the combination of shops and venues on my street would bring, and the long summer nights full of boomboxes blaring at 3am, screamed arguments about who sold who the wrong type of crack and people vomiting onto the pavement outside the apartment were not my favourite times at 53a. By 2016 I was in a relationship and my girlfriend at the time was not at all as keen as I was about seeing the whole thing as an exciting observation on modern society. “I think someone’s being stabbed,” she would darkly mutter to me as we lay in bed trying to sleep despite the traffic noise blaring outside. “There’s not enough screaming,” I would mutter back with a yawn. “That’s just your average fight. Go back to sleep.”  “I would if there wasn’t about fifty cars beeping outside your window. Oh, and now there’s a street cleaning lorry too. I can’t wait for you to move.”

In the end it was our relationship that moved on before I moved out of the flat, but having a second opinion on 53a did cast a few small doubts in my mind about the place. Was the traffic a little too unreasonable? Were the nighttime brawls a little too regular? Despite these musings I continued to love my little hide-away, my safe haven from the world.

How to describe 53a? 53a was:

chipped green paint

neon light

creak of floorboards

lamplight casting soft shadows at 1am

Radio 2 Jazz programmes and the smell of incense

overground train rumble

afternoon sunlight streaming through dusty windows

mug balanced on bed, laptop open

candle flickering,  polaroids on kitchen tiles

evenings full of laughter, mornings full of sleep

first hellos

last goodbyes.

This flat was always so much more to me than just a place to live. It was where I rebuilt myself, where I found the bits and pieces of my soul that had got lost, trampled and hidden along the way during the previous years and painfully, painfully, dragged them back to me until I was whole once more. It was the backdrop for my first love, and my first heartbreak. It saw dinner parties, welcome parties, leaving parties, parties where no-one showed up and parties where everyone showed up and brought a bottle of rum with them for good measure. It was where I practised for my final exams, where I decided what to wear for my first day at work, where I celebrated one year out of university, then two. This place has heard many words, some hard, some soft, and many ghosts live inside these walls.

It was the ghosts, in the end, who helped me decide to leave.

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It’s a difficult thing, leaving. Not for everyone, of course - there are some people out there who find change exciting, crucial to how they live their life. I am not one of them. Or rather; I feel like people who say that they like change just don’t notice enough about the world around them.

It’s almost impossible to “like change” if you begin to take note of every single little thing that is rudely adjusted around you, without the slightest warning or heads-up.

What do you think of when you think of an example of “change”? Chances are it’s something big.

Moving to a different job, maybe. Getting married. Or something a little smaller, like getting a new haircut. This is what I’ll call the “top tier” of change, and it’s the only tier that a lot of people notice as they go about their lives. There are, however, other levels below that “top tier”. Things that, if you’re me, clump together to make life just a little more hard to cope with, just a little bit more stressful.

For instance:

If the old bus stop pole that I’m used to seeing every morning has been replaced by a new, less dented bus stop pole, the seat I usually take has someone else sitting in it, the train comes at 8:57 rather than 8:55, the chair I like in the cafe I always go to has been moved to another table, there’s a different person from normal on the check-out and they’ve changed an ingredient in the drink I always get, I find out that the podcast I listen to on Tuesdays has started releasing new episodes on Wednesdays instead and then I get an email informing me that an upcoming rehearsal I was expecting to happen in one venue has been moved to a different venue that I’ve never been to before… That, for me, is a very stressful morning. Now, take that level of what I’m going to call Change Stress and apply it to something as enormous as moving house, especially from somewhere that has as much meaning for me as 53a. It took the front door breaking again, the thought of yet another summer listening to dubstep outside my window at 3am and a really stellar flat showing to convince me that it was time, but here I was. Moving for the first time in four years. And boy, it was hard work.

My moving house priorities would have seemed very odd to people helping me organise and pack my belongings. (…If they hadn’t been my aforementioned long-suffering parents, that is.) When there’s such a big uncontrollable change looming over someone as change-phobic as I am, I tend to bury into tiny details and get very annoyingly intense about them being just right.  “No, the tea lights go in the left hand corner of this box! We need to unpack everything again now. No no we can’t pack the radio there, it’s the third item that I’m going to put on my desk, next to the pen pot and opposite that picture frame!!!”  A total slide into insanity and Change Stress are hard to differentiate.

“I was walking around my East Village neighbourhood…you know…you live so much life in these very small blocks, and these routes that you take every day…You grow so much, you know, when you think about who you’ve been in this tiny amount of space… you’re living with the ghosts of yourself.”

The singer St Vincent might have been talking about her time in NYC East Village when she spoke these words in an GQ interview about her song New York, but they resonated with me as I watched the YouTube video in early 2019 sitting on my bed in London. It occurred to me that I was also surrounded by ghosts; both ghosts of myself and ghosts of people I had met, been friends with, fallen out of friendship with or had simply drifted away as folk tend to do at the end of university. The streets surrounding my flat were filled with memories, both good and bad, and 53a itself was groaning with the weight of so much life lived under one roof. 2015 was a long time ago, I realised. Everyone else in the polaroids on my wall from parties now long over seemed to have moved on. I should move on too. To have new experiences, to make new memories, and, in time, to make new ghosts.

Now, as the spring sunlight of March streamed through the windows of 53a, I looked around at the boxes and crates and felt a sense of profound loss mixed in with the fatigue and stress of moving and the excitement of what was to come. There was one more thing that I needed to do.

I laid a hand on the wall, breathed in the smell of wood, paint and dust. “Thank you,” I whispered.

It may have just be my imagination but I’m sure, just for a second, that I felt a slight energy through my fingertips, an acknowledgement of my farewell.

Maybe 53a could say goodbye, after all.