#chapter two is already written but I gotta sit on it for a second

[whump-town]

Oh, Sinnerman

Warnings: child abuse, bible nonsense, I'm pretty sacrilege but like really it's just a funny word I'm only half sure of the meaning, and self-harm

Word count: 6 or 7,000? No pairings. All of them die single.

Here's the bible shit you need to know only because Hotch knows: In Genesis, Cain killed his brother Abel. Also In Genesis, Abraham's faith was tested by God telling him to take his only son, Issac, to the top of a mountain and offer him as a sacrifice. He is stopped before he delivers the killing strike and a goat is offered in Issac's place. In Exodus, Moses saw a flaming bush and God instructed him to get the Israelites out of Egypt.

Chapter Two,

Now to the main show:

He goes to sleep with his window shut. 

Dreams of the branches of the willow in the backyard creeping into his room. Long branches wrapped around his throat. A noose. He’s seen pictures in his history books. Black and white pictures of limp bodies. How bad would it really hurt? Worse than broken ribs? Worse than a fractured skull? He’s passed out before, a hand around his throat and another slamming into his stalled chest. That hurt. But suicide is a sin. The preacher on Sunday mornings, voice cracking through the mountain fog, looks right at Aaron as he breathes these words. It’s the worst sin. To kill the gift of life that God has so tenderly breathed into your lungs. Aaron looks away. He’s angry enough, scorned enough, not to care. 

He wakes up and his window is open, leaves scattered on his carpet. 

His mother tells him this too shall pass, holds his hand, and reads from the bible. She thinks that this is a trial, smiles, and tells him his father is just battling the devil. Aaron looks away from her, lets her hold his cold, thin wrist but refuses to sit with her. God is her comfort but not Aaron’s. If the devil is who his father battles, Aaron can’t imagine how small God must be. The devil is a bottle. So who is God?

Whiskey. The devil is whiskey, hellfire scorching Aaron’s face as his father holds him still. “Smartass,” his father jeers, thick fingers sunk into Aaron’s bottom jaw. “You never know when to shut the hell up, do you?” Aaron’s mouth hurts, his jaw grinding under the grip his father has on it. His lips are bleeding, split by the fat class ring on his father’s index finger. His blood is smeared on his cheek, dripping onto his nice shirt. Held still by his father’s crushing grip, looking into his wild, angry eyes only inches away from his own,  Aaron survives by withdrawing. He sees nothing and feels nothing. Thinks about the willow in the backyard. He wouldn’t even need a rope. The branches are so thick– He’s shaken back to cognition, reflexively pulling back as his father’s face gets closer. “Are you listening to me, you little bastard?”

The fingers loosen just a fraction, he’s moving his other hand back to slap him, but Aaron sees it coming. He wrenches his face free, feels the sting of the slap, but runs. Throws the screen door open and runs. Doesn’t look back. Can’t look back.

“Come back here you stupid little prick!” 

The woods welcome him. He is their child. His blood has spilled onto their foliage. He has laid in their safety. It is their life that has maintained his. 

He stole a knife from the Brookes’ County Store, the owner the father of a girl he goes to school with. He’s a nice old man but Aaron doesn’t trust him. No matter how softly he speaks. Aaron’s not stupid. He’s not certain Roy Brookes would hurt him but he knows what happens when you trust adults. Two summers ago, Johnny Raylan was found drowned in the river. Lured there by his neighbor. A man he trusted, a man who loved him. Roy Brookes doesn’t even care about Aaron, so no, he doesn’t trust the man. 

He stole a knife just because he knew Roy wouldn’t say anything and that made him feel big, powerful. Untouchable. 

Mockingly, he carved into the bark of the oak in the middle of the woods. Taking out his pain and fear on old wood. Where no one would find his sacrilegious offense, he left “These trials will show your faith.” Aaron finds it easily and knows where to go. The woods are his home, these trees are just hallways. He comes to stand at the base of the oak tree, panting from his run. He presses his fingers into the jagged letters, feeling where the wood raises. From his back pocket, he pulls out his knife. He thumbs the blade experimentally. He sinks it into the tree, satisfied by the resistance but craving more. The knife shimmers in the sunlight, a wicked idea crosses his mind. How terribly fucked, he imagines, he must be to think such a thing. To hurt himself because he’s being hurt. How terribly unforgivable and immoral… He craves it nonetheless. 

His blades are one thing, sterile and thin. Pinched perfectly between his own fingers, the depth and length determined by him. 

He presses the blade into his skin, the same way he would with a razor. He punctures the skin, grunting at the hot pain that lances up his arm. This is so different. It bleeds more. More than cutting and more than he’s expecting. He presses his wrist to the tree and guides the blood into the words. Forces his blood to take to the words. It looks written in his blood.

A blood sacrifice. 

[x.]

A painter does not put brush to canvas without a reference, without some idea of what comes next in the process. And for that reason, Hotch could never imagine fatherhood. How do you raise a child as a man raised by his own hand? And as the living proof of his own handiwork, at his own success at raising a child, Hotch could not suggest that other people leave their children in his care. His well of understanding on how to raise a child was not just barren, it was dry. There had never once been water to pull from his well. He’d never seen successful, kind fatherhood. He had never felt it. So how could he do it? How could he be expected to love and care for a child when he had never known it himself? When he had never been able to show even himself that same kind of gentleness. 

Yet… 

Jack’s head rests on Hotch’s pillow. His hair is thin still, a youthful straw yellow he’ll grow out of before too soon and Hotch will miss just how young blond hair made Jack look. His little face is still pink with agitation but his breathing calmed. He’d woken up sobbing, as he often does these days. He’s too young still to understand exactly why Hotch can’t just go get Mommy, why she won’t come back no matter how much either of them cry or agree it would be better if she were here. 

It’s soothing to watch Jack sleep. 

His morning breath smells like pure rot but he’s terribly adorable taking up all of the bed with all of the three feet of his body. Hotch’s on the edge of the mattress, sleeping on his side – Jack’s razor-sharp elbows and harsh kicks having driven him to there. And as fit full as his own sleep had been, he smiles as Jack slowly works at waking up. He yawns and Hotch grimaces at the face full of his son’s morning breath. Hotch makes him brush his teeth every day but there is just something about the breath of little kids…  

Jack is disjointed, moving his shoulders and hips in a way that would certainly cause Hotch’s to lock up painfully. Jack tries to stand up and Hotch smirks at the state of him. His little wisps of hair stick up in every direction but he smiles happily. “Morning!” Jack dizzily falls back down on the bed, aiming and landing right on Hotch’s side. Hotch grunts at the impact, sharp elbows meeting his ribs unforgivingly. “I’m hungry.”

“Morning,” Hotch kisses his forehead, soaking in the unexpected way Jack crawls up to him. “Did you sleep alright?” Jack lays down on his chest, yawning and nodding as a reply. “You ready to get up?” Hotch rubs his back, not surprised to find Jack’s back and hair slick with sleepy sweat. The kid sweats more than anyone else he knows. Jack shakes his head. Hotch hums, he’s not ready to get up yet either. The day holds so much to do and taking a shower and shaving does not hold up to sleepy cuddles. Neither does the meeting he has with Strauss at three this evening. 

But they can only put off getting ready for the day for so long. 

Jack sleeps while he showers, rolling over to claim the warm part of the mattress Hotch had been laying in. Hoarding the one part of the bed he hadn’t taken over earlier in his sleep. By the time Hotch is out of the shower, working a towel through his hair quickly and trying to get a shirt on while Jack’s frantic knocking begins to be accompanied by a loud, Daddy hurry! I’m gonna pee myself! The carpet is spared an accident and Jack scowls at him from the toilet seat. He’d much rather stand to pee but in the rush, Hotch had embarrassed him by just stripping him naked himself and plopping him down on the seat rather than watch Jack piss himself trying to get out of a pair of footie pajamas. It’s happened more than once. A pouty four-year-old is better than one standing in a puddle of his own urine, sobbing uncontrollably over an accident. 

Jack recovers from his humiliation and is happy to be allowed to sit on the edge of the sink and watch Hotch shave. Yawning sleepily as he walks his fingers over his father’s ribs and up to his sternum. All until he falls forward and just lets Hotch hold him upright, little feet kicking off the counter. 

Brushing his teeth is like torture. Jack can not brush them well enough to avoid cavities on his own so Hotch has to double back and Jack hates it. “If you let me brush your teeth,” Hotch barters, moving Jack’s toothbrush back so he can’t grab it, “I’ll let you brush my teeth.”  

Jack squints skeptically at Hotch for a moment but that’s too good of an offer to refuse. “K.” 

True to his word, Hotch does allow Jack to brush his teeth and he’s very rough on the gums. But Hotch smiles and tells him that he did such a good job anyway. 

He has his morning cup of coffee and two or three spoonfuls of soggy cheerios. Jack eats all of his cereal soggy, a side-effect of not yet mastering the motor control it takes to wield a spoon. Most foods he eats end up all over him. They’re working on it. In the meantime, Hotch is force-fed bits of soggy cereal every morning. Bites he has to take because he’s pretty certain if he rejects his terribly adorable son’s offer he’s an awful father. And he does enough stupid shit throughout the day to be a bad dad, he needs the easy breaks where he can get them. 

Unfortunately, he really fucking hates soggy cereal. 

He has two more cups of coffee before he leaves the house and he realizes then that he is fighting a very unwinnable battle. 

He hasn’t been sleeping well. 

Or, at all. 

The couch in his office was a gift from Dave in ‘98 when he got promoted. It was a complicated gift – Dave was retiring, leaving, and giving Hotch that shitty old couch felt like blood money. Not that Dave really cared, he just didn’t want to figure out how to get that couch out of the building or to pay for a U-Haul. And who better to pawn it off onto than Hotch? In the three years that the couch sat in Dave’s office, only Hotch had ever liked that ratty old thing. The cushions are thin and the fabric is very rough. Jason would rather stand through hour-long meetings than sit on it – springs digging into his ass and back were not as bad as just standing uncomfortably. 

The first concussion Hotch got on the job he slept off on that couch, curled up like a baby, and almost unwilling to get up once Haley got there. It had taken Dave and Jason to get him back up off the couch – the only reason he left the safety of the shitty couch was with the promise of a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. The only person who ever liked that couch was Hotch but Dave was almost surprised to find Hotch had kept that old piece of junk for so long but then again, not really. Then again, Hotch was still packing PB&Js for lunch so nothing really changes. 

That couch is every bit of twenty years old, it’s only redeemable quality is simply that Hotch loves it. The cushions are thin and the only way he can sleep on it is on his back but that couch does what nothing else can. He takes sleeping pills and he ends up having nightmares – sleep is futile to the body if it never has the chance to relax. And the nightmares are night terrors, dreams so intense he wakes up soaked in sweat. He takes sleeping pills and then sits up for four hours in the middle of the night waiting for anxiety medications to bring him down from whatever anxiety attack he manages to work himself into. 

Penelope buys him tea and the only person that seems to work on is Jack. The smell of organic Chamomile tea steeping, even just the sound of water boiling, has Jack yawning and rubbing at his eyes. Penelope says honey will help the taste and dutifully, Hotch stirs a little into his mug, but he’s not sleeping. 

Except for one that shitty old couch. 

It’s not at a point where people are noticing, people being Emily, but someone’s noticing and that’s never any good. She doesn’t say anything to him or any of the others about it because when it comes to dealing with Hotch making public observations about him doesn’t blow over well. Noticing him is always a bad thing but it’s better to notice in private. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Hotch sits up slowly, palms pressed into his eye sockets as he tries to encourage his brain to work. “I was,” he offers matter-of-factly. For someone else he might sit up, fake being more attentive and awake. Get right to business and distract from his just sleeping hair sticking up in every direction. But Emily’s seen him worse. Besides, she’s got her arms crossed over her chest and giving him this look that he knows is going to annoy him. He has no choice but to entertain it. 

She’s sitting on the coffee table, her knees against his. She’s cornered him. “You’re being weird.” 

He uses the side of the couch to stand, old knees protesting the deep movement. “I do believe that calling people names is rude.” His left leg is asleep and he limps to his desk, rubbing at his eyes as he moves blindly around his office. He knows exactly where everything is just as he knows Emily is watching his every movement. 

Emily clicks her tongue, pleased that he’s still groggy from his nap. Enough to loosen his tongue, to give her what she wants. “Now you’re deflecting.” She has no questions to ask. If she should be worried, he’d tell her. If something were wrong, he’d tell her. They’ve worked hard at this trust, given up too much to suddenly start pulling back. 

She caves, she doesn’t want to but he sits down at his desk and puts his head in his hands. He needs to drink more water and eat something. She brought him a muffin from downstairs, a little plastic-wrapped situation. Blueberry. Normally, she brings him the chocolate chip muffins because those are the ones she likes and he never finishes one on his own. So he’ll always give her half, it’s a win-win. They’re giant muffins, really. But he is acting weird. So she feels bad and he knows it. “Here,” she throws the muffin at him and he reads the vulnerability in her kindness easily. “Eat something.” 

She got him the muffin he prefers. 

“Thank you.”

She shrugs it off and makes a face at him that says more than she’s willing. A warning not to make this a weird thing and a careful avoidance of his eye contact, a clarification that he does matter to her. That his well-being is something she considers and cares about. “Eat it, JJ wants us at the round table. Got a case.” 

He frowns, JJ didn’t say anything to him. “Where?” 

“Winchester.”

Winchester. 

Barefoot two a.m. runs down the road, tearing off in one direction for as long as his legs would carry him. Hoping, praying, that his father would be too drunk to be able to find him. Seeing headlights coming up behind him and bracing for the impact. 

Squeezing between his mattress and the floor when the yelling got too much, hoping if he made himself scarce he’d suddenly be forgotten. Drunk hands swiping at him, trying to grab at an ankle or a wrist and pull him out. Coming into his room the next day to find his bedframe gone, his mattress on the floor. 

The clawfoot tub in the bathroom, being held under the water by a strong grip on his hair. He could never do anything right. His fear of water was born one summer afternoon, the lawn hadn’t been mowed the right way, and his t-shirt was too dirty at the dinner table. He couldn’t breathe, didn’t think he ever would after that. 

One short invaluable life measured out in quick, thundering heartbeats not certain things wouldn’t end right here. His head underwater. Headlights casting the shadow of his long skinny legs up the road. 

Winchester.

“Hotch?” Emily is still standing in his office, watching him just pause – this vacant, horrified look in his eyes. 

He clears his throat and lowers his eyes to his desk like he’s looking for something. “I’ll – I’ll be out in a second.” He opens the muffin but only to make her think he has any intention of eating it. He doesn’t. 

Winchester. 

In terms of relativity, is a big enough place. Logically, the odds are on his side that they run into no one that he knows. But he knows better than to hope that luck is aligned with that logistic. 

JJ hands him the file and he opens it, holding his breath as his eyes scan the page. And, of course, he’s wrong. JJ doesn’t need prompting to start so with him standing she begins the case outline. 

Abraham Boseman, thirty-four, was found in the woods at the base of an old dying oak tree. Laid out on a firewood prye, throat slit.

Under the table, Emily kicks his foot. Hard. No one else notices, Derek keeps on his worried path arguing with Dave about sacrilege. Reid is trying very hard to patiently wait them out. Lips pressed together to glue them shut and his entire body bounced with his leg. 

“It looks like  a sacrifice.”

Hotch can’t tear his eyes away from the pictures. 

“What’s that written on the tree?”

The tree. He can’t think. The tree? He looks up and watches Emily flip to pictures forward. He does the same. The tree. 

Solemnly, Derek reads, “these trails will show your faith.” His voice is steady and even, the opposite of Hotch’s beat skipping thundering heart. He can’t help but look up, search Derek’s face for some reaction to the thing that he is seeing. But Derek gives nothing. He just sighs and shakes his head. “Look at that tree, the coloration of the wood, the words?” He points the tip of his pen up at the board, “it’s dark. Aged. That was written there… years ago.” He shakes his head and looks back down at the photos in front of him. “So, either he chose these woods, this tree… or we’re missing years worth of bodies.” 

Hotch wonders if they can see the pulse he can feel in his face. 

Dave scoffs, “we don’t know that. Something like this?” They all look back at the photo, Hotch stares forward. “It upsets people. Southern, old people don’t sit well with sacrilege. They’d have called it in if there were more bodies or, at least, called in a priest.” Like an exterminator. Leave some traps to drag the pests out. 

JJ sighs, “I meant, where’s the quote from?”

Spencer raises his hand, fingers poised in that thoughtful way he does as he thinks. “It’s 1st Peter, These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.” 

Derek grunts, “so this is a sacrifice? For who, God? Kind of… grotesque.” 

Spencer shakes his head, “no not really. Biblically, sacrifices are very common. From the Israelites, God asked for a ram. From Abraham, his son Jacob”. From Aaron–” Spencer’s eyes move involuntarily to Hotch “–Mose’s brother, a bull.” 

Derek frowns, rolling his eyes, “animals are a totally different thing.” 

Penelope gasps. 

“Baby girl–”

Aaron clears his throat, his head throbbing as the attention in the room spins back to him. He feels immediately light-headed. “I think Dave’s right,” he knows, “but we won’t know for certain until we get to the scene.” It’s meant to be demissive, the sound of closing files following him out. They don’t but he’s also not going to stop for the meandering conversations that they’ll have once he’s gone. His residual presence in the room will make things awkward, they’re less open when he’s around. After all, he’s the boss, not their friend. 

Emily noticed his unnoticeable dissociation.  The way his eyes never left the photos JJ paperclipped to the file. She follows him out of the room, accusing his back, “you’re still being weird.” 

Hotch keeps on his path and ignores the Emily that apparates at his heels. He does leave the door open when he steps into his office and lets her take the time to close it behind them. He tosses the file on the desk, and lets it thud punctuate his sentence. Gives things a theatric pause. “Do we need to talk about the hostile work environment you’re causing?” He leans back onto his desk, arms crossed. There is no malice in his tone. He collected coins as a child. Endured torture at home and in class. Weird is on the list but it’s not that harsh or even creative. 

Narrowing her eyes, Emily crosses her own arms. “See?” She nods her chin at him, “now you’re being defensive.”

He opens his mouth nearly immediately but closes it and that’s nearly the same thing as answering her. At least this way he doesn’t arm her with words. Pushing himself off the desk he rounds the other side, puts the desk between them. Keeps being defensive. “Is there something I can do for you, Prentiss?” 

She frowns at him, calculating the response she’ll get from anything that isn’t her departure. He’ll kick her out, he’s done it before. “Yeah,” she decides. “I gave you the muffin to eat.” She turns back to the door, “so eat it, you get real… moody when you’re blood sugar is low.” 

“It’s not–” he shuts his mouth. He hates the way that she gets under his skin, and bothers him like no one else can. “Tell the others we’re heading out in thirty. I just need to call transport, get enough SUVs.” He smiles politely, already thinking about how he’ll send her in the same SUV as Penelope and Spencer. Payback. 

“Yes, sir.” 

It’s mocking and he knows it. 

“Thank you.” 

[x.]

It’s a forty-five-minute drive which is, truthfully, one of the more tame adventures they’ve endured in cramped SUVs. Not that Emily will forgive Hotch anytime soon for making her go with Derek, Penelope, and Spencer for it. Her head pulses to the beat of the song Derek and Penelope happily sing over, not even the wind from her downed window relieves the pressure. He’s a bastard and she stares at the SUV in front of them, trying to stare a hole into the tires. She wants him to have to change one on the side of the road. The sweltering sun beating down on his suit-clad shoulders. Make him get a weird pain in his back. Dirt all over his hands. He’s a rat bastard and she hates him. 

They’re greeted into the city of Winchester by an old wooden sign, rustic in an authentic, rotting in the ground kind of way. Derek cringes. Small towns are the worst cases to work.

Immediately, something is off. The Sheriff is a little too stiff as he shakes JJ’s hand. But Emily can’t figure out why. She narrows down the oddities to age – no one younger than thirty eyes them oldy. The woman who works the front desk frowns at them and not even Dave’s nasty way of flirting with her eases that tight frown. It’s weird, Dave’s charming. It’s also nasty but he’s very good at it. 

Leaning close to JJ, the only trustable person on this team, Emily asks, “Is it me or…” Emily frowns, “they’re acting weird.” All of the officers. It started with one or two, no reason she could wrap her head around. They don’t typically like having the team around but the reactions are… different. Too much whispering and side-eyes. Not the side-eye JJ gets or the kind Spencer gets. 

JJ looks up from her work, because she’s doing work and not gossiping like Emily, and frowns. She looks over her shoulder, around the room, and then back to them. “I guess,” she shrugs. “Why?”

Emily sits down, shaking her head. “Hotch.” JJ frowns. “They haven’t even noticed Reid, you notice that? Everyone notices Reid. And Garcia? Same thing. Hotch asks for something, they get weird.” She taps her finger, thinking. “Nobody does that to Hotch.” He’s big. Not broad but long. Mean too. And angry looking. Hotch asks for something and people do it. Not here. 

It started with the Sheriff, the old man’s face falling as quickly as Hotch’s had twisted into something unrecognizable. Something akin to fear or… at least recognition. Then a few of the older officers. They looked angry. 

JJ shrugs, “people are weird.” 

“Always,” Emily frowns. She leaves, suddenly, no warning. 

JJ doesn’t bother overthinking that comment or even wonder what the hell that’s supposed to mean. She has no particular interest in paying them any more mind than she has to. Places like this create a certain type of man. Those who eye her as she walks past because they don’t care to be seen watching. That’s exactly why Hotch asks her to go out to visit the victim’s family with him. He doesn't want to stay at the station any longer and he suspects JJ will have far less to say about everything than anyone else. 

Her silence is valued and then it’s corrupting. She doesn’t play music in the car and he has entirely too much time to think. 

His house of horrors was framed by woods on three sides, the front opening to a driveway connected to the end of a dirt road. As a boy, he’d rest his head on the fence in the backyard gazing out into the trees and imagining the life within them. His mother forbade this after one night he told her a story, one he’d come up with all on his own, about a deer with human teeth standing on the edge of the property. It stood on its hind legs and waved. He was, from then on, no longer allowed anywhere but the front yard. Which he thought peculiar given the front yard was where his story took place. His mother smoothed this over by making sure he understood to never tell that story again. His little head just got away from him sometimes, she said. He was a gifted storyteller with an overactive imagination. 

Though, typically, overactive imagination is what she called rehearsing his lies with him. Dotting fleshy color back into reddened, painful skin. Her fingers were gentle where his father’s had been rough the night before. “How’d you hit your head, sweetheart?” And with crooked teeth, he’d smile, “fell off my bunk bed!”

He wasn’t sure he’d actually seen a deer do what he told his mother he’d seen it do until that very moment. This was the line between fiction and truth – his overactive imagination.

He never really wanted to play in the backyard after that anyway.

Not to say he’s scared of the woods. He’s a grown man, faced real demons in the daylight, not ones living under his bed and waving at him from the edge of the woods. But that’s not to say he can’t feel a cold sweat breaking out underneath his shirt as JJ drives them down winding backroads of another Virginia county he wishes to not recall the name of in a month. It makes him nauseous as well, hills upon hills and forever winding roads. It has nothing to do with the trees. Nothing to do with Spencer’s sudden interest in folklore or the older man who Derek questioned who smelt exactly like honeysuckles and moonshine. It’s the road. Long and winding. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” JJ says, blinker keeping track of the pause that follows her comment. She looks down both sides of the road and turns left. The blinker stops with a click. He says nothing. She glances over at him again. Quiet is the polite way to put it. He let her drive. Aaron Hotchner doesn’t let anyone drive. He’s been acting oddly. Paranoid in the exact same way Spencer is – looking over his shoulder and sitting with his back to the wall. She thought he might just be ill. Hotch wears ailments like relapses in his PTSD. As if the flu brings George Foyet back to life and once again they are in an active manhunt. But she’s fairly certain he’s not sick.

JJ doesn’t want to test her luck, she’s planning on bragging to the others that he let her drive and it’s really salt in the wound if she gets to drive back to the precinct too. But she also just can’t let this go. “You grew up in the area, right?” she glances over at him. Finds a storm cloud in her passenger seat. Quickly, to throw the blame, she adds, “Emily said something about it.”

Head turned towards the window, he hides the eye roll he can’t really help.  

Both Derek and Emily have said something about it to him. No sooner than he could pull his hand out of the Sheriff’s, offering the man a small, tight nod, as they walked side-by-side the Sheriff’s attention going anywhere but Hotch. Which is never the standard. Sheriffs usually like to talk to Hotch, not because they like him but just because he’s the easily identified guy in charge. This Sheriff goes to Derek. Even less normal. 

Derek knew. Emily was only just starting to work it out. He might not know the name of the street Aaron grew up on or which backroad would take you there but he knew the county name and that look on Hotch’s face. The same one Sean gets when he’s had too many drinks and heads down a road Derek wishes he wouldn’t. 

Seatbelts unbuckling, the rest of their car ride spent in complete silence, Hotch pauses a moment before opening his door. JJ sees his contemplation and waits. After a moment he offers, “I grew up a few miles from here. On the other side of those woods.” Then he opens his door and leaves the conversation. That’s all he’s willing to say on this matter. 

JJ doesn’t look in the direction he vaguely nodded to until they’re walking towards the house. He grew up in a home, that much she knows for sure, but Hotch’s history is a patchwork of half-truths. This one she’s inclined to believe but she looks into those woods and can not imagine a boy. Knowing Jack, and loving him to pieces, she knows he’s entirely woven from Haley. JJ could never imagine such wide smiles coming from Hotch, such unashamed laughter. It’s heartbreaking. 

Normally, Hotch would send Derek or Emily out to do this sort of work. He is better at it and yields better results faster but he’s usually preoccupied with sheriffs and deputies. Here those people would prefer he stay very far away from them and he couldn’t be happier to oblige. He leaves them to Dave and prays the older man doesn’t say too much. 

They’re visiting a widow, the victim’s mother. She’s in her eighties, a very typical southern mother. It’s easy and Hotch is comforted by the idea of it. He plays fully into his southern charm, slipping into an accent occasionally guided by the older woman sitting across from them. “And your other son–?”

“Abel,” the old woman gushes. “Abraham, Abel, and Abigail.” She sips at her sweet tea, her smile never fading. “Two sons and a daughter and I couldn’t be happier. They make me very proud to be their mother.”

JJ smiles back, “three As, that’s impressive.” She’d never understood why parents are inclined to pick one letter of the alphabet and name all their children by its guide. 

Without looking away from the fireplace Hotch adds, “Abel the good shepherd, Abraham the obedient, and Abigail cause of joy.” The old woman smiles and Hotch looks away. Gideon had called him a divining rod, the kindest way to say traumatized. Adapted. He always knew which family members would be helpful when investigating. Which fathers would curl their lips when questioned and which mothers would weep, would come undone and spell out generations of just the way things are done. Always knew just what to say. 

Once she’s done giggling, prideful of his knowledge, the old woman asks, “you said your name was Agent Hotchner? You any kin to the Hotchner’s over thataway?” 

Hotch steadies his attention and keeps his eyes on the older woman so he won’t glance at JJ. “No,” he lies, smoothly. Smiles too wide. Too much. Too forced. “I’m afraid it’s a very common last name where I’m from. More Northern.” He glances at JJ, shying from her gaze. His eyes aimed back at the creaking floorboards below. 

The old woman shakes her head, “I’ll be damned if you don’t look exactly like that family, though. Could fit right in. Exactly like the daddy of that bunch, spitting image.” She shakes her head and turns to JJ. “Meaner than a snake, that ol’ bastard. ‘Bout beat the skin off his oldest more than once. Why if I had–”

Hotch clears his throat, and suddenly his collar is too tight. “Sorry,” he apologizes immediately. Old habits die hard. Sorry was the first word he ever learned. “Did your boys know them?” He already knows the answers. Against his better judgment, despite everything he knows, he takes a sip of the sweet tea she poured him. Tries to wet his mouth. “You said that – You’ve been in the area for a while. Could they be involved?”

He obviously knows the answer. Her sons are younger than Sean and no one knew anything more about Sean in this town than they did about him. The entire town decided the Hotchner boys were the only things to fear in those woods. Drugs and alcohol and screams. Besides, no one lives in that old house anymore. 

“No, no,” the old woman says, decisively. Without a shred of doubt, he doesn’t ask for further proof. Doesn’t need to. “Them boys… I couldn’t tell you what they’re up to. Likely prison.” She shakes her head, looks at JJ again. They share a kinship of motherhood and she suspects JJ will agree with her. As if one of those boys isn’t staring a hole into the floor beneath their feet, avoiding her eye contact. 

Prison makes the skin on Hotch’s arms stand. He thinks of Sean. 

The bails he’s paid off. 

The law he’s practiced long after his license expired. 

The rehab stays. 

“Neither one of them was worth a damn.” The old woman looks remorseful, shakes her head. “Not that their daddy ever let ‘em have the chance.” She looks off to the side, wistful. Imagines the thin, inky black-haired boy standing at the edge of her property. Picking blackberries tell his fingers bled with the juice. 

Hotch takes another drink from his sweet tea and sits it down with an air of finality, a southern sort of dismissal. “Thank you,” he manages, “your hospitality has been welcoming but Agent Jareau and I really should get back to the station.” He extends JJ the same smile, never reaching his eyes, “JJ can leave you with a card to contact us.” 

Aaron would be the final puzzle piece. His business card would be the damning piece of evidence and that’s a distracting conversation to have. It would destroy the relationship they’ve just built. She’d known in an instant. He is that little Hotchner boy, not worth a damn. 

The air is not nearly that humid but it stirs his vision dangerously the second they step out onto the porch. JJ is right behind him, having another goodbye, so she doesn’t see his miss-step. She doesn’t see the man standing in the woods either. 

“Who is that?”

The old woman said her oldest son had moved out of the county two years ago and started a family. Her daughter had done the same. The only kids who stay here are caught, if you know what’s good for you, you leave so Hotch hadn’t considered she’d lie. 

“JJ!” 

Shotgun pellets. His side stings. 

“Go!” JJ has the old woman pinned to the house’s wall. “Go! I’ve got this!” 

Abel and Cain. Guess he should have seen that one coming. A biblical retelling. All the wrong characters, the story jumbled. Close but not right. 

It suddenly makes too much sense. Hotch wonders what they’d find in Abel’s house. He’d only heard stories, awful, crass retellings of the sort of things recovered in the bedrooms of men and women in fitful delusions. Mostly, he just gets twisted up. Abel killed Abraham. Dave will eat this up, it’s perfect book material. The twisted biblical stories. Not right but intricate and interesting. 

Another shot is fired, this one aimed at his head. He falls down in the driveway, scrapes his knees up but doesn’t get shot. “Abel!” he shouts, following the back of the man in front of him. The bushes at the mouth of the woods have been beaten into a path of sorts, thistles pushed aside. They reach for his pants, tear at his clothing. “FBI! Abel, you need to stop running!” 

His side pulses, hot and angry, and he comes to a fumbled stop. He searches the woods for a moment, hearing nothing but the sound of his breath. Then white-hot pain blossoms across the back of his head. He falls back, sticks and rocks digging into his back. 

“I did what was asked of me!” Hotch pitches forward, gasping and spitting up vomit. His vision swims dangerously until his head is suddenly grabbed. Two hands hold his face still, forcing his eyes to meet the man in front of him. “I did what was asked of me,” Abel repeats. “You must understand. Who am I to disobey God?” A second time, more frantically, he repeats, “God!” 

Hotch tries to open his mouth, to encourage Abel to let him go or to find the right thing to say. But he just can’t think of any words. He just can’t feel anything. His eyes roll back into his head, his lips meeting in a soundless last attempt to stay alive.

#chapter two is already written but I gotta sit on it for a second #gotta make sure it's good #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #spencer reid #david rossi #jennifer jareau #jack hotchner #oh sinnerman #child abuse #self harm

[livingemkayde]

ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?”  What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.  “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”  “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.” 

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head. 

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it. 

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy. 

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.” 

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink. 

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully. 

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all. 

“No, I don’t think —” 

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes. 

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far. 

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.” 

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.” 

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?” 

“Why.” 

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.” 

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.” 

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice. 

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink. 

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside. 

“Hello?” 

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes. 

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window. 

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight? 

“Jesus. No — no.” 

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me. 

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly. 

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.” 

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought. 

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl. 

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.” 

Love you, bye. 

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately. 

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good. 

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys. 

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers. 

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment. 

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things. 

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day. 

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief. 

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before. 

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten. 

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say. 

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar. 

“I did good, didn’t I?” 

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. 

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” 

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.” 

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now. 

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever. 

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do. 

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy. 

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely. 

Jealous? Yeah. That one. 

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can. 

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving. 

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice. 

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long. 

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back. 

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.” 

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away. 

Good for him.  

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone. 

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore? 

“You alright?” 

You snap your head to Tommy again. 

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears. 

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.” 

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one. 

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind —  saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault. 

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet. 

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears? 

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop. 

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one. 

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips. 

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?” 

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.” 

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs. 

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back. 

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers. 

You can see her better in this light. 

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older. 

More like Tommy — more like Joel. 

More age appropriate. 

Less like you. 

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit. 

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud. 

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs. 

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods. 

“What did you study?” 

“English.” 

“Ah. English. Remember those days.” 

“What do you do?” 

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink. 

Great. Journalist. 

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you. 

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation. 

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd. 

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze. 

How could you be so stupid? 

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel. 

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start. 

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway. 

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel. 

~

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him. 

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose. 

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night. 

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed. 

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

 Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building. 

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through. 

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes. 

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser. 

Maybe you want it to hurt. 

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is. 

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude. 

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough. 

“You should come. Right, Joel?” 

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother. 

“To my party?” 

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower. 

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?” 

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere. 

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face. 

Jesus. 

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met. 

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering. 

“Need some air,” you say. 

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It���s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends. 

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away. 

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words. 

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—” 

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you. 

“I do — wanna help.” 

You smile shyly. 

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.” 

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar. 

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.” 

“Maybe,” you echo. 

Suddenly, the air feels less playful. 

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you. 

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.” 

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.” 

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face. 

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you— 

Stop this. 

~

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever. 

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —” 

I like you. I want you. I need you. 

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities. 

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you. 

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind. 

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead— 

“Where are you goin’?” 

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you. 

Because that’s all you want. You just want him. 

“Home.” 

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it. 

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his. 

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave. 

Please. 

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all. 

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw. 

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.” 

~

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer. 

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too. 

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes. 

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man. 

Not like Tommy. 

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately. 

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken. 

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment. 

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered. 

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.” 

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that. 

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to. 

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside. 

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed. 

~

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck. 

You grumble with him. 

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.” 

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving. 

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.” 

You smile lazily at him. 

“Like you aren’t?” 

He laughs back. 

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash. 

Tommy speaks first. 

“What’d you and Joel talk about?” 

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much. 

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.” 

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help  — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar. 

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.” 

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.” 

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Well thanks anyways.” 

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness. 

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?” 

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question. 

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle. 

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.” 

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest. 

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes. 

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away. 

Tommy continues when you don’t respond. 

“Took her home though.” 

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart. 

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all. 

“Really?” 

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life. 

Tommy pulls up to your driveway. 

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park. 

“Is that —  like —  an issue?”

 Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?” 

“No. Think she’s good for him.” 

There it is again. 

Good for him. 

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion. 

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements. 

You don’t pull away. 

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face. 

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away. 

“Jesus.” 

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time. 

You’re scared of what he might say. 

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?” 

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips. 

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?” 

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now. 

“No, like — like a date. I guess.” 

_

chapter v. just you

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[lunarw0rks]

Through The Ashes | Chapter Three

Summary: You've been given an offer to join the 141 Task Force. Upon taking it, you find yourself ensnared with the mysterious masked man who won't take his eyes off you.

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), p in v sex, unprotected sex, no aftercare/no comfort

A/N: This is my first time writing smut, so I hope it's decent. There will probably be more in this fic later on... | Word Count: 2.4k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter // requests | ao3 | playlist

The Point Of No Return

The look of disappointment written on Price’s face drew you in.

“It’s been silent for two days. Nothing on El Sin Nombre.” He was like a ticking bomb, ready to explode and demolish anything in his path. “Keep working at this. Find out anything you can, I want answers.”

You’d gotten used to the action-packed days, wake-up calls in the middle of the night when there’s new information. But to suddenly hear nothing on the person you’ve been tailing for months? Strange.

In a way you missed the chaos; twiddling your thumbs was going to be the death of you.

Perhaps you were right, and the tunnels really were a dead end or a distraction in finding El Sin Nombre.

“We sit around here and do nothing, while he’s still out there?” Ghost spoke, which was nearly an irritated snarl. Price replied by pressing his lips into a line.

Ghost was a man always ready for action, and when he didn’t get it, it boiled inside him.

—

Part of you felt guilty for taking advantage of the radio silence. The enemy could be planning something catastrophic, already fifty steps ahead of where your team will be when the intel hits your desks.

You couldn’t pass up the feeling of relaxation, however. No bullets whizzing past you, no drowning in tunnels, no wondering if you were going to be the next dead soldier.

Soap’s voice reverted your attention. “Enjoying the free time?”

“As much as I can… How could there be no new information? I have a bad feeling about this.” You speak, taking your eyes off the paperwork in your lap. Surely he understands. Although he usually keeps a more casual demeanor, you can tell he has the same concerns.

“Nothing we can do right now. Better to wait and be prepared.” Soap retorts as he puts a hand on the back of the chair beside you. He was right. Why exhaust yourself and become a weakness for the enemy to take advantage of?

—

After an extended period of mundane papers, you felt your head begin to swell. You need a distraction to keep yourself busy. You head to the shooting range and decide to practice your accuracy. You snag a rifle off the wall it's mounted on and load it, lining yourself up with the target at the end of the lane. You fire off a few bullets, mainly focusing on your reloading speed between shots.

“At least your shooting is better than your punching.”

You turn to Ghost and fiddle with the rifle in your grip, giving him a sarcastic nod.

“I suppose you’re right about that.” He returns his usual detached gaze in response. “But you’ve gotta have a weakness somewhere buried beneath all that brawn, L.T.”

You could swear he smirked under his mask. He might’ve been able to conceal most of his body language, but the look in his eyes was something that rarely lied.

“We all have weaknesses, some of us just need to hide them better.” He seizes a step forward and grabs a sniper rifle off the wall, placing himself in the shooting lane beside you.

You purse your lips and turn back to your target and line up your sights, preparing to squeeze the trigger. You knew he was right. Someone wasn’t always going to be there to save you in the thick of it. It would have to be you.

The following shot bounced off the walls with a sharp crack. You hit the mark in the middle, feeling satisfied with yourself. He glinted at it briefly before he proceeded to snipe the moving targets, a bullet going through the head of most of them.

It was impressive the way it was almost second nature to him. How deadly he truly was in the field. In terms of work, he’s the best ally to have because he won’t let you die, but on the other hand, he’s withdrawn and won’t form connections with anyone around him. Why does he keep saving you? Why doesn’t he give to you the harsh reality check he gives to the others who make too many mistakes?

You had a sense that figuring him out was a can of worms you didn’t want to open anytime soon.

You made sure the rifle you were practicing with was clean, then placed it back on the wall, leaving Ghost to continue taking his feelings out on the targets.

—

As the hot water ran down your spine, you leaned your head back in relief. The steam of the shower relaxed muscles you didn’t realize had been tense.

The only part of you that wouldn’t let lose was your head. Specifically, the thoughts inside them. Why did you gawp at him like that in the kitchen? Thoughts like that hadn’t crossed you up until now. His appearance was striking to you, and the way he stared made it even worse. Not even a glimpse of his true features, and you’re a puddle at his feet.

Your fingers wrapped around the cold metal faucet and shut the water off abruptly.

Reflection about your feelings wasn’t getting you anywhere. It was not the time either, you were here to work with a Task Force. You weren’t going to jeopardize that with just anything - especially a hardheaded, unattainable colleague.

Since Price eagerly wanted new intel on El Sin Nombre, you had no plans to go anywhere. You didn’t know how to tell him there was quite literally nothing new. The pipeline had gone dead - all you could do was wait for the next move.

You slipped on your casual uniform and proceeded down the hall. When you passed the window framing the yard, you saw Ghost sitting outside. He looked deep in thought as if the weight of the world was straining him, even more than usual. You opened the back door and peeked your head through, giving a concerned look.

“Everything alright?” You weren’t sure how else to approach the conversation.

Formal? Casual? Either way, it was like approaching a burning building that was ready to collapse. Although, it wasn’t because he was unpredictable. It was the opposite problem. He always remained stoic and untouchable.

“I’m fine,” he utters, holding a cigarette between his fingers. “Just get back to work, Sergeant.”

He wasn’t going to get away with that today. You can’t be expected to trust someone with your life without knowing the human behind the disguise of a killing machine.

You approached the bench he was sitting on and sat next to him. “I’m not going to pretend to understand what’s going through your head, because I don’t. But whatever it is…”

He spits back instantly, “None of your concern. Go back to work.” His tone is harsher, but you can tell he’s trying not to let his voice carry too loudly.

You gave a hefty sigh in response. You knew what to expect from him, but it still stung.

You shared a glance with each other briefly as he tosses the cigarette onto the pavement and snuffs it with his boot heel. You take that as your cue to walk back inside and leave him to brood. Perhaps some things, or some people, should remain untouched.

You walked into your dorm and opened the laptop sitting on your desk. He was right, you should just get back to work. After all, you had some files that still needed to be reviewed. You clicked on the first one and began typing away at your notes.

When you adjusted the angle of your screen further back, you spotted a figure in the reflection of it, and it was standing in the doorway.

You jerked around, seeing Ghost standing there for God knows how long. 

“Ghost…” You said under your breath. You tightened your brows when he didn’t respond. Something about it felt uneasy, like maybe you pushed him too far earlier. “If I pushed things too far earlier, I’m sorry.” You stood up from the chair, keeping an apologetic look as his eyes burned into yours.

He stepped closer.

“I didn’t mean to be a pain. It wasn’t my intent-” 

He grabbed the sides of your face and pulled the bottom of his balaclava up to his nose. Before you could even try to think, he’s initiated an impatient and heated kiss.

At first, your hands were frozen in place at your sides, but you couldn’t help yourself. They were soon resting on his waist.

There was no time for questions, and he wasn’t showing any signs of doubt.

You stumbled backward as the back of your knees hit the bed behind you. You felt a warmth wash over you as he climbed on top of you, forcing you to lay with your legs off the side of the bed - and his body in between them.

He reached for your belt and unbuckled it without even giving it a glance, only breaking the kiss when you both needed air. Your lips rested against his as you exchanged breaths into each other’s mouths, eyeing one another as you did so.

His fingers wrapped around the waistband of your cargo pants and yanked them down, leaving you in your t-shirt and underwear. You felt a rush of heat to your cheeks as you met his eyes again. The moonlight shining through the window illuminated his saliva-coated lips and the five-o-clock shadow that had begun to show itself.

He had boxed you in with his frame, and the hands roaming all over your body made him impossible to resist. It was too late to ask why any of this was happening, you were already in it too deep. He rolled your panties off and tossed them aside, running his thumb over your hips afterward. 

You felt a tingle whenever his hand left an area of your skin, it getting stronger as he went lower and lower.

You murmured a plead as he hushedly unbuckled his belt. He snakes his hand in between your thighs and brushes his fingers over your folds, finding your sensitive bud. His eyes had a look of amusement buried in them as he examined your reactions to his touch. His calloused fingertips gave friction against the slick already pooling around your entrance. 

He didn’t give you long to get used to his fingers before he was sliding his boxers down to his mid-thigh and guided his cock toward your moistened entrance, rubbing the seeping tip of it in a circle. You felt yourself shutter at the feeling of his manhood teasing you, wanting more of him. 

It was so wrong to feel this way about a superior, but his very skin grazing against yours made you drip in arousal for him.

He lifted his shirt up and put the fabric in between his teeth to keep it from blocking his view of your core. Your eyes wandered toward the bandage still wrapped around his torso - the one you put there.

“Wait,” you said in between gasps, halting his next move. “What about your side… your arm… won’t it hurt you?”

“It’s nothing.” His tone dripped with arrogance as he replied, pushing himself deep inside you while his thundering tone filled your ears. The natural deep octave of his voice had formed goosebumps all over your body.

You choked at the sensation of him filling you up with ease, sending a shock of desire up and down your spine. The cockiness made you ache for him more. The way he continued fucking you without the injuries he sustained holding him back.

You spread your legs wider, splitting yourself on his cock, letting him go as deep as he possibly could. He suppressed his grunts well, except for a few that slipped out when you dug your nails into his shoulder blades.

Your mouth hung open slightly as the pleasure began to form in your core, building with each thrust he gave you. He noticed you becoming weaker underneath him like you couldn’t take much more of this before you fell apart.

He looked as if he was approaching his climax before you. Even when he tried to hide it, his breaths formed more into shutters, and his pace quicked and got more sloppy. He gripped your thighs, making them stay in place against the sheets.

“Shit…” you cooed, feeling completely at his disposal.

He still hadn’t uttered an entire word this whole time, seeming to be completely focused on the sensation of being inside you. Your clothed nipples brushed along his chest repeatedly, putting you on the brink of overstimulation.

His eyes fluttered open and closed a few times as he pulled out of you, daring you to whimper from how sensitive you were with the absence of him crammed into you. You figured he wasn’t going to risk any accidents during a sloppy hookup, so you understood. In fact, you would be lying if the sight of him finishing himself with his hand didn’t make you want him more.

He ran his hand up and down his own manhood, still having the lubrication of your own wetness to help guide his fingers from tip to base. He quicked the movement of his hand, taking only seconds before he dissolved into his own pleasure, strewing his cum all over your stomach, some even ending up on the t-shirt you still had on.

You expected him to lean back in, to satisfy you with his hands or his mouth, but he didn’t. He pulled the balaclava back over his chin and pulled up his bottoms, leaving you a wet, sensitive mess.

You sat up, propping yourself on your forearm. “Did I do something?” You asked, knitting your brows together. This wasn’t some power play, he was quite literally leaving you high and dry.

He adverted your gaze as he readjusted his bottoms and lazily looped his belt before he trudged out of your dorm, closing the door behind him in haste.

You looked down at your nude bottom half, the cum on your stomach and shirt. You scoffed and ripped the shirt off your body, instantly finding yourself a clean one from your dresser. How could he do this to you? Quite literally leave you in his mess without saying a word?

You slid off the mattress and plodded into your bathroom, feeling ashamed of what you saw in the mirror. You wet a rag and cleaned off the wetness of your vagina before tossing it in the hamper, as well as the underwear he tore off of you.

In the heat of the moment; you wanted this, he wanted you.

This didn’t make any sense. He had to be playing some sort of game… or worse, just using you for his own satisfaction. 

Either way, you weren’t going to let him walk away from this.

This wasn’t over.

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[a-kaash-me-outside]

not fair - ch5

in which your boyfriend is perfect in every single way... except for one and kei can't just sit back and watch you suffer...

previous | ch5 | next (coming soon) [masterlist]

// "don’t question me again or i’ll leave." ~ ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ʏᴀᴍᴀɢᴜᴄʜɪ ᴛᴀᴅᴀsʜɪ ~ 8656 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter/tw: 18+ minors dni super nfsw!, cheating (seriously, major plot point), threesome, vouyerism, size kink, weird feelings, use of character first names, degradation, oral f!receive, dom/sub undertones, coming untouched, stop light system, dirty talk, name calling, coming twice, plot-heavy, pegging, cross posted from ao3, afab reader she/her pronouns

join my taglist here!! ~~ (one more chapter left?!?!?!) ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

It’s one of those phone calls that you hope goes to voicemail. 

Hey, Tadashi, just wanted to let you know that Kei and I were coming to get the car and boxes tomorrow. Sorry it’s been there for so long. That’s all it had to be. You’re repeating it in your head, waiting for the polite message and tone to come. 

It doesn’t.

You don’t remember what Tadashi says when he answers the phone, don’t even know if he said anything at all. You pull the phone away from your ear, making sure that he didn’t answer and hang up or that the space between the rings isn’t just skipping. The numbers are counting up, seemingly slower than seconds typically pass by. 

“Hey, Tadashi,” you start. You should have practiced or wrote a script or something, because any words, phrases, questions in your mind are gone now, leaving Tadashi to pick up the pieces once again.

If it weren’t for the tiny breath from the otherside of the phone, you might’ve hung up waiting for a response. He mutters your name first, practically lost by the hestiance and heaviness of the word. “Are you calling about coming to pick up your car?”

“Right, yea, I’m so sorry we left it there and haven’t, uh, been back to get it. We kinda just wanted to give you time because of everything and didn’t want to, yknow, rush anything or give you any trouble or-” you’re rambling on, nervous to stop. Kei rests his hand on your lower back just to let you know that he’s there. 

“It’s fine, really, just, are you guys coming to pick it up?” he asks, interrupting your nervous spiel.

“Yes,” you reply, knowing that you have so much more to say, but not ready to say any of it. After being so intimate with him and Kei, you’d think that it would be easier to talk, like everything’s already been out on the table. It’s not until Kei raises his eyebrows, lets his thumb graze under your shirt and against your skin that you actually get the words out. “Do you think we could come in, too?”

Tadashi isn’t stupid. He has to know what you’re implying or, at the very least, know that the two of you want to talk with him. Kei is staring at you, the room is dead silent, and every second that Tadashi doesn’t answer is more confirmation that you’ve just made a fool of yourself. 

You’re about to take it back, to backpedal without remorse in an attempt to salvage civility, but Tadashi clears his throat, unknowingly interrupting you. “Yeah, that would be okay.” 

Almost too stunned to speak, you’re sure that the surprise was written across your face. “O-Okay, yeah.” It’s heavy in your throat, banging at the back of your teeth, you want to ask, clarify, make sure that you’re on the same page, but you also feel like you should quit while you’re ahead. Kei’s confusion turns to understanding when you give him a wide-eyed, short nod. 

“Alright,” Tadashi replies, but still doesn’t hang up. 

Tsukishima doesn’t grab the phone from you, but he talks loud enough for his voice to make it through the receiver. “Like last time?” 

“Like last time,” Tadashi confirms quickly. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, for sure, see you then,” you reply, “Looking forward to it, Dashi.” You can faintly hear the hitch in his breath followed by the low clear of his throat. 

“Me too.” Click.

You bring the phone down from your ear. The weight on your chest isn’t as unbearable with the assumptions off the table. There’s still a lingering force quickening your heartbeat, but at least you can breathe for now. 

“Thanks,” you say, looking up at Kei.

He shrugs. “That’s what I’m here for, bluntness.”

“And doing the hard things that I can’t,” you scoff. 

He bends down, pressing a kiss onto your forehead and pushing your hair out of your face. “Definitely not all the time. It’s probably like half and half,” Kei says and then tilts his head, “Mm, maybe 60/40.”

You nod, “Yeah, but that seems pretty fair to me.” You pull back, wiping your palms on your pants. “I should bring the thing, right?”

“Why else did we buy it?”

“No, I know, I guess I’m just nervous,” you admit.

“No reason to be. You’ll be great and Tadashi will love it, you know that,” Kei reassures you. 

In theory, you did know that. If you really thought about it, you knew that. The evidence backs it up, the reciprocation in excitement backs it up, and yet you can’t help but doubt the ideas that have been swarming your head since that night. 

The entire walk to Tadashi’s feels heavy, steps dragging, bag weighted, Kei’s hand in yours evident. So many thoughts are taking place in your head. You try to rid them, but you can’t. The conversation from that night is on repeat in your mind. Maybe it’s a good thing, maybe it’ll make you more decisive, maybe the repetition will hammer in these clouded thoughts. 

You thought that the first time coming back felt weird, but coming back the second time comes with a mix of eerie comfort and looming taboo. 

It’s a blur, really, Tadashi answering the door, inviting you inside. You remember the small things like taking off your shoes and placing them neatly next to the spot that you used to every single day and when you shake your head no at Tadashi politely asking if you want a glass of water or cup of tea. The rest of it is lost, second to the anticipation and the thought in the back of your mind to book it out the front door.

You are sitting on the couch. Kei is sitting next to you. Somehow everything in your head is talking at once and they’re your thoughts, but you can’t make out a single one. 

You want to just skip to the part of the night that doesn’t feel like this anymore - fidgeting just to calm your nerves, the three of you sitting in a small circle like a meeting with stale coffee, no eye contact, barely allowing yourself to breathe. Kei’s hand hovers over to yours, slowly, trying not to bring attention to itself, not for his sake or even Tadashi’s, but for yours. His grasp wraps around your fidgeting fingers, his intertwining with yours like they were meant to be there. 

In a matter of seconds, you catch Tadashi’s eyes as they flicker from the intertwined hands in your lap to your eyes back to your hands and then down at his own. You can’t get a long enough look at his face to see the emotion, but you don’t really need a long look to tell you that Tadashi is feeling more nervous than you are now, as if that’s even possible.

How hard would this have been without Kei sitting here right next to you? Without Kei throughout this entire process? Tadashi doesn’t have that, doesn’t get the sweet hand hold or the supportive presence. He deserves it, though. 

You take the first step, hands shaking, breath unsteady as you stand up and move towards Tadashi. You don’t know what to say once you are right in front of him, so you opt for silence. Instead, you take this time to regulate your breathing and focus on the emotions in Tadashi’s face that you couldn’t find before.

All of the doubt that you had last night (and a few seconds ago, for that matter) is fading away. Now that he’s sitting here in front of you, now that you can see the soft features on his face, can feel Kei’s assuring presence behind you, can watch the way that Tadashi waits for your next sentence, patient and attentive. Your hand moves slowly as you reach to cup Tadashi’s face, directing his attention and testing the waters. 

Banging against your sternum, your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest. It doesn’t calm on contact or when Tadashi leans into the touch ever so slightly and it gets much worse when the words tumble out of your mouth. You can’t help them, seeing how pretty Tadashi looks in front of you, getting flashbacks from last week, remembering how good he was for you.

“Can I kiss you?”

You don't know if this sentence takes Kei by surprise, don’t dare to look back or show an ounce of hesitation in front of Tadashi. Besides, at this moment, you’re more concerned about Tadashi, the way you can see the emotions clearly now, but you still can’t read them very well for the sake of how fast they’re changing. But you can read the nod, though slight, of Tadashi’s head after a beat of contemplation. 

The kiss is sweet, warm. You have to bend down a bit more than you’re anticipating, but that only means you get to tilt his head up, bring his lips closer to yours, thumb gently pushing on the underside of his chin, fingers resting against his neck in a way that you can feel his harsh swallow as soon as you pull away. His eyes are wide, struck with something bordering wonderment, and you are drinking it in. 

This has to be exactly what Kei felt like on the night that started it all. 

There’s a surge of confidence for the first time since your last visit, like it’s no longer testing the waters, because you know exactly why the three of you are here. You’re not sure that Tadashi knows, but somehow that makes you feel even more assured, like he’s depending on you to guide him through the night. 

And it really does feel like history repeating itself.

Still, it doesn’t matter how much you see yourself in Tadashi right now and how that means that if he is you then you would be Kei and how you know that if Kei were standing where you’re standing right now, things would unfold a lot differently. Despite the lingering pressure of this new role you’re embodying, you have to ask.

It comes out sweet, warm like the kiss you shared moments ago. “You’re okay with all of this?”

Tadashi’s nod is a touch more certain than the previous, but you follow it up nonetheless. “And it’s alright that I don’t keep asking if it’s alright?” you ask. He nods again. “If something is getting too much or you’re starting to feel uncomfortable, just say yellow.” God, saying it aloud brings you back. You remember that Kei had started touching you, kissing you at this point, but all you want to do is stare at Tadashi, see the understanding and attention. “If something is too much and you want to stop immediately, then say red and we’ll stop, make sure you’re okay.” 

He nods again, but not one curt nod like the rest of them, more desperate, repetitive, like he wants you to stop talking, not because he doesn’t care, but because he knows what’s ahead and he wants it to come faster. You give in, moving your hand down his shoulder, leaning in to press your lips against his ear. “If you can’t breathe, mouth full, can’t verbally communicate, just 3 nice hard taps against me or Kei and we’ll stop.”

A whimper slips out from between his teeth in lieu of a nod, but you want to hear it in stumbling confirmation. “Understand?” mhm “Say it. Need to hear you say it, Dashi.” 

“Yea- I mean, yea, yes. I understand.”

You stand up straight, towering over top of Tadashi. “I’m in control tonight.” You’re not sure how Kei looks behind you, taller than you, you know that, but you wonder if his height makes you look less in control than you feel. You wonder if his facial expression is making Tadashi doubt your dominance over the situation. You didn’t really talk about this, Kei and you, not in detail, not about power dynamics. Truthfully, if you had, you’re not sure you would be in this position right now.

It’s comfortable for you to be right between Kei and Tadashi in the order of power, but to declare that you’re in control, not just of Tadashi, but just in general, it’s stepping out of your comfort zone. 

“Y-You?” Tadashi asks innocently enough, eyes flitting from you to just behind you where you know that Kei is standing. Part of you, the safe part, wants to quiet down, wait for Kei to answer for you, to either protect you or scoff at the notion. That part of you doesn’t win. 

Rather, you bend down again, eyes level with Tadashi’s. “If that’s a problem, I can leave instead.”

“No, it’s not- I’m not- I didn’t- I’m sorry!” he starts immediately.

“Don’t question me again or I’ll leave,” you repeat. 

“I won’t. I won’t.” Tadashi says, not a promise, but you believe it like one. 

You turn around, look up at Kei. There’s still that voice inside of you looking for his permission, for his approval. You don’t think that will ever go away. This little voice inside of you comes through in the form of a silent question. If it were anyone else on the receiving end you’d think it’d get lost in translation. Am I doing okay?

“What do you want me to do?” Kei asks plainly, unwavering, like it’s not completely left field for him to be asking you for direction. It’s the perfect answer to your question. 

You’re not exactly sure how you’re going to get through this night. You’re exhausted already and you haven’t even really given a command yet. You figure, however, that the best mantra to get you through the night is to just continue to ask for things that you really want. What do you want him to do? 

You go with your first instinct and though your voice isn’t as strong as you want it to be, it feels good leaving your mouth. “I want you to carry me upstairs, want Tadashi to follow. And I want to be placed nicely on the bed.”

Kei moves immediately, hoisting you up and letting you wrap your arms around his neck. There’s no hesitance to just doing what he’s told. You assume, for now at least, that it’s because the tasks aren’t too demanding or degrading. You’ll be waiting for backlash for the rest of the night. 

You don’t have to direct any of the demands to Tadashi. He hears you and he listens, waiting just enough time to give you a breath of space and then following you like a puppy. By the time Tadashi enters the room, Kei is placing you, exactly as you asked, nice and gentle on the bed. 

It’s so much different than normal. Kei is always attentive, always makes sure that you’re taken care of, but it’s so different . His hands follow your body as he lies you down, making sure that there is a cushion of his palm between each inch and the bed as it comes in contact. God, you wish you could feel it on your skin. 

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” Kei asks. You can’t detect any amount of snide smirk or tone, have to take it as sincere despite months and months of experiences screaming in your head. Your stomach is in knots and you want to say yes just because he asked, but making him wait feels like it’ll have a better payoff in the end. 

“Not yet,” you say, low like a whisper. It’s not loud enough for Tadashi to hear, not meant to show your dominance or prove yourself. It’s a moment just for you and Kei. His eyebrows raise and then furrow, a remark starts to bubble, but he shuts it down before it reaches his throat. You don’t know where Tadashi is, but you don’t care either. You’re following your wants, pushing your fingertips through Kei’s blonde locks and making soft fists. “I want you to want it more.”

You let go quickly, as soon as it’s about to elicit a response, and then you press on his shoulders with the heel of your palm, digging your fingernails into the tops just hard enough for him to really feel it . As soon as he’s stood up, standing at the foot of the bed, so familiarly over top of you, you ask, “Aren’t you going to ask me what else I want?”

He swallows the alternative response and asks just that, “What do you want now, (y/n)?”

You hook your fingers into your waistband. Both Kei’s and Tadashi’s eyes follow the movement as you push your shorts and panties down to your ankles. They’re still dangling off of one of your ankles after you maneuver one foot out of one side, spreading your legs apart and realizing just how bold you’re being tonight. 

You hadn’t realized, though, how wet you had gotten from just a few small actions. It was a mix of the newfound control and the way that they were both listening to you so well. It was the possibilities of tonight and how Kei, right now, was about to do whatever came out of your mouth. 

“I want you to eat me out,” you say. You could’ve stopped there, short and sweet, but the words tumble out and you don’t regret them one bit, “Want you to say please and thank you. You don’t do that very often.” Kei’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t talk back.

“And I want Tadashi to watch,” you say to Kei and then turn to face Tadashi, “I want you to watch. Like last time.” You glance down to the small tent in Tadashi’s pants, let your eyes linger as an added explanation. “Just like last time. Do you understand?” Your tone is a mixture, a condescending softness. 

Tadashi lifts his hand, brings it steadily down to his bulge, but hesitates before touching himself through the fabric. “Now?” he asks. 

You give a small laugh, “The show hasn’t even started yet, but yes, if you’re that desperate.” 

You don’t know how quickly Tadashi is to start to touch himself because Kei hooks his arms underneath your legs and pulls your pussy against his mouth in one motion. You keep repeating to yourself that you’re in control. You have to keep reminding yourself or you would, probably instantaneously, slip back into doing whatever Kei wanted you to do.

Actually, even while you’re repeating to yourself that you’re in control, every part of you wants to close your eyes, lay back, and just let Kei do whatever he wants to do, and you know that tonight is all about what you want, but this is a once in a lifetime experience and you’re going to take advantage of it. You grab a fistful of Kei’s hair, pulling his head away from you in a way that surprises both of you.

“Say please.” It’s not nearly as cocky and confident and strong as you want it to be. In fact, it’s followed by an airy laugh from yourself because it’s so out of place. “Kei, baby, say please.”

“Please.” It’s not nearly as pleasing and desperate and appreciative as you want it to be. You cock your head. 

“That doesn’t sound like you really want to eat me out,” you furrow your eyebrows. You tighten your fist in his hair. “So say please.”

His eyes widen and he groans at your harsh grip, “Please, can I eat you out?”

“I still feel like you don’t really want to taste me, baby. I feel like you don’t want to bury your face in between my legs and eat me until I come all over your face.” You’re talking down to him now and the confidence is building in your chest as you watch his facial expressions shift. His mouth is basically watering. “I know you want that, so why don’t you ask really nicely and maybe I’ll let you.”

The pleasing, desperate, appreciative tone that you wanted is there and, with it, a bit of embarrassment to have to ask for something you usually beg for. “I- Please, can I please eat you out? I want to taste you and eat you, please.” His voice is more timid than you’ve ever heard it and it’s making your stomach flutter more than how close he is to you.

“You’re gonna make me come all over your pretty face, aren’t you?” you ask, slowly pulling his face towards your pussy. He’s moving with you, mouth opening as he gets centimeters away, but you stop him. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” he nods, trying to finish the motion and bury his face in between your legs.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I’m going to make you come,” he mumbles. You can see just how much he wants to skip this part, but you’re having so much fun.

“Where am I going to come?” you smirk.

“All over my face,” Kei answers, knowing full well he’s not giving you the answer that you want.

“All… over… your…,” you say slowly, tilting his face upwards to look you directly in the eyes, watching the warmth spread across his features.

“Gonna make you come all over my pretty face,” Kei finally finishes.

“Now say please,” you tease.

“Please,” he says quickly.

“Pretty please?” you push on.

“Pretty please, fuck, (y/n), please let me eat you out. Please. I need to fucking eat you out. I need to feel your come on my tongue, need to taste it, need to please you and feel your thighs against my cheeks. Pretty please,” he spews, hoping that this time he actually gets to do what he’s been wanting to do since he knelt between your legs.

The last thing he sees before being pulled into your pussy is your huge smile. “Good boy, see, that wasn’t too hard.”

Between your legs, Kei has some ounce of control. He knows exactly what he’s doing and how to make you squirm and even though he had to say please a million times to get here and will have to stop when you say stop and follow your orders as you give them, until then, he gets to do whatever he wants. 

There’s no teasing, no build up. You’re so wet, dripping from teasing him and the control you felt with Tadashi. Kei doesn’t let a drop go to waste, running the flat of his tongue between your lips and prodding at your hole with the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t want to waste another second without his tongue deep inside of your tight little hole.

He fucks his tongue in and out of you, pressing his face as hard into you as he can in an attempt to get his tongue so deep inside you. You help as much as you can, both hands at the back of his head, pulling and tugging at his hair, clawing at his neck and back and as far down as you can reach. He knows how sensitive your hole is, feels it quivering against his tongue. 

He knows your body better than you do, knows exactly how to make you come. After all of the teasing you did, all of the talk, he can’t think of anything he wants more than to make you come as quickly as possible.

You weren’t going to stop him. 

“Holy fuck, Kei, oh my god.”

His lips are moving against your clit as he tries to fuck his tongue into you deeper. He’s moving his entire face, the tip of his tongue harsh against your hole as his nose nudges against your clit. The motions are perfectly repetitive just like he knows you like it. The louder that your moans get and the harder that you start to squirm and the tighter your hands grip, the more motivated Kei is. “Gonna, fuck, I’m gonna come all over your pretty face,” you tell him between moans.

Your core is tightening and your body is convulsing, but you can’t let go. You need to hear him. He needs to tell you. You want him to tell you. “Kei, fuck, tell me. Please, tell me. Let me come, please. Please.” There is no remorse, not even after the fact. Part of that comes with the lack of snide remarks or tone from Kei, the other part comes with just how close you are and how hard you’re about to fall.

“Come, baby, come all over my pretty face, please, please come for me. Please come all over my pretty face,” he says against your pussy, but you can hear each word so clearly. That’s all it takes for you to come undone. You let go, head hitting the mattress harshly as you grab onto his hair even harder. His name is the only thing coming out of your mouth, the only thing on your mind until it isn’t.

“Again, again, again,” you say, repeating as you nod at him.

He listens instantly, diving back between your legs and continuing to eat you out. He doesn’t have to tell you to come the second time or the third or the fourth. You let them roll over you like waves, coming as soon as your body allows you to. 

“Okay, okay, fuck, okay, that’s enough,” you breathe. He doesn’t stop, driven by the pure bliss in the reactions you’ve given him and the way that you dropped control for a passing moment. He wants to feel it again, taking control from you. You almost let him. “Fuck, Kei, enough,” you repeat, more stern this time. 

He lifts his head from between your legs, face a mess, hair tangled, breath ragged. “What do you say?” you ask, not even letting him compose himself before responding. 

“Thank you,” he says, and honestly, he looks just as grateful as the labored appreciation sounds. 

You push yourself up despite how much you want to just sit with Kei’s warm cheek against the fat of your thigh and despite how tired you are from everything that just happened and despite how you want to hear Kei thank you forever. “Kei, get him prepped for me, yea?” You miss the initial reaction from Tadashi, only catch the end of his attempts to compose himself and the lasting redness on his cheekbones. You don’t say another word until you’ve made it to the doorframe. “Dashi, Kei’s in charge while I’m gone, listen good, okay?”

You catch the faintest glimpse of Kei’s smirk as he stands tall once again, making his way over to the corner of the room that Tadashi was frozen in. The second that you’re out of view, you let yourself breathe, let your shoulders slump and your legs wobble as much as they want. You grab your bag that you left at the front door and change in the familiar bathroom closest to the top of the stairs. 

You went all out, decided that if you were going to do this, you were going to do this right. The thick main harness was just one part of the intricate buckles, straps, and fasteners. You had tried it on before, the first time that you got it. Kei helped you put it on, tightened the straps and moved each piece so it fit snug and comfortable. 

The top belt sits on your waist, thick faux leather straps with buckles on each side adorned to a ring that rests on your stomach. The second set of straps holds the main ring in place, two fasteners tightly fit against your hips. You slide the dildo into the ring before tightening the straps to your liking. It’s heavy between your legs, thick and lengthy, deceivingly lifelike to the touch and eye. 

As you’re putting the finishing touches onto your look, fixing the harness and making sure that everything is exactly as you want it to be, the soft and subtle noises that you’ve been hearing from the other room become louder. The noises quickly fill the entire upstairs. You’re sure at this point that Kei has asked Tadashi not to hold back, has told him explicitly not to. 

There is a lot of gratitude coming from Tadashi and only as he’s practically screaming can you hear what he’s thanking Kei for. 

“Thank you for getting me ready for (y/n),” Tadashi cries. “Feels so good, so good, fingers feel so good thank you, Kei.”

It sends a shiver down your spine, the amount of desperation and the sincerity of the thank you.

You gently press open the cap to the lube, letting a stream of the cool liquid coat the top side of the silicone cock. You use your thumb and palm to spread it over the skin, twisting your wrist and slathering the slick liquid all over, pouring a generous amount on the tip and watching it drip from the head. You know that it’s not really yours, that it’s not actually attached to you, that you don’t feel from it, and yet, as you push your hips forward, as the cock slides between the hole you’ve created with your fist, your core feels warm and you let out a small moan. 

The walk back to the room feels like a mile. You know that the two of them are undoubtedly too enthralled in their own actions right now to notice you at the door. It’s not a bad thing though. You get to watch for a few moments. They don’t know you’re there, aren’t acting in any sort of way for an audience or praise. 

Tadashi has taken your spot. His legs are high in the air, held up by his hands grasped around his ankles. Kei holds a bottle of lube in one hand and is fucking 4 fingers into Tadashi’s hole with the other. 

Tadashi’s cock, rock hard and angrily red, is slapping against his stomach every time that Kei’s fingers bottom out. The back of his head is pressed into the mattress so hard, but his eyes are trained on Kei, bottom lip quivering whenever involuntary noises weren’t tumbling from them, sheets bunched up against sweaty palms. 

You could’ve watched this all night. You’re sure that if you hadn’t interrupted them they would’ve continued all night, partially because you didn’t give them instruction to stop, but also because the determination and joy in Kei’s demeanor matches Tadashi’s desperation perfectly. There’s something about Kei’s actions that makes it incomparable to how he acts with you, something about the fact that even though he’s in control, he’s just following directions. 

“Is he ready?” you ask, followed by an observation, “Looks like you’re just doing this for him now.”

They’re startled at your voice, immediately taken out of the intense moment that the two of them were in, but there’s no disdain for the deprivation of the transfixion. The only word to describe the look on their faces is gawking. There is less surprise in Kei’s given he’s seen you in it before, but that doesn’t stop the harsh swallow or the dwelling gaze over your chest, down to your waist, following the straps. 

Tadashi isn’t as subtle. His face is bright red, blushing, gasping for air from just being stretched. He pushes up from the bed, props himself on his elbows, and just stares. You can practically feel his heartbeat from where you’re standing in the doorway. “Is that for me?” he asks, void of the confidence the question deserves, tongue wetting his lips. 

You walk over, agonizingly slow, cock in hand. “Why don’t you turn around and I’ll show you?”

By the time you’ve made it to the edge of the bed, Tadashi has scrambled over himself and gotten on all fours, as if any delay would result in you giving up on the notion. You climb onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as you take in the sight before you. Tadashi looks rigid, not knowing when the next order or movement is coming, eyes forward on the pale wall. 

The second that the soft skin of your palms comes into contact with his hips, he melts into you, pushing back into your touch. His shoulders slump, head falls down, staring at the comforter below him instead. “Is this alright? Are you ready?” you ask, leaving one palm resting on his hip, but using the other hand to guide the tip of the dripping dildo against Tadashi’s stretched hole. 

The answer is evident in the urgency of his whimpers and the desperation in his reactions, but you need to hear it coming out of his mouth. “I’m not going to fuck you until you tell me you’re ready for it,” you clarify. 

“Yes, yes, I’m ready, please,” Tadashi answers. 

“Good boy.” There’s only a second between the finishing of your praise and you pressing your hips forward. It’s slow, but the pace is necessary no matter how badly you want to watch him take it all right this instant. You’re using your hand to guide the thick cock into Tadashi’s tight hole. You don’t need to physically feel it to know how tight it is, to see the rim swallowing the dildo. 

The moans and whimpers have ceased, replaced by labored breaths and diffused whines. You’d ask him questions, try to elicit some sort of verbal reply to the process, but he looks so focused on taking your cock. Still, you guide him through it, not just with the small kneading that you’re doing into his hip and the slow pace you’ve adapted, but with small coos of appreciation. “You’re doing so great, Dashi, fuck. It looks so good back here, you taking my nice thick cock just like that.” 

As soon as you don’t need your hand to guide the dildo, you lace it into Tadashi’s hair. It’s so soft. You can barely grasp any of it, can’t reach until he picks his head up and pushes it back into your hand. You feel disgustingly powerful now, hand weaved into Tadashi’s hair, slowly thrusting in and out of Tadashi’s ass. 

It takes a few beats for Tadashi to fully stretch around the girth of your cock, but with every gentle fuck into him, his whines turn back into whimpers which turn into throaty moans. “Can I go faster now?” you ask with a genuine softness. “Can you handle it?” with less genuine softness. He nods, choking out a few yeses amongst the noises.

You reward him with praise once again, “Good boy, huh, Tadashi? Are you my good boy?” You punctuate the question with a hard thrust, your hips meeting his ass in one fluid motion. His hair is tugged by your harsh grip and, with it, his lax body every time that you pull your hips away. 

He’s putty in your hand, malleable. The harder that you fuck him, the louder his moans get, the more power you feel. “Fuck, Dashi, it’s like I can fucking feel how pathetic you are squeezing my goddamn cock. So tight, so fucking perfect.” Your hips are on fire from repeatedly slamming into him, your palms are so sweaty that you can barely get a good grip, resorting to using your nails to anchor in place instead. Praise keeps falling out of your mouth so quickly that you’re not even sure what you’re saying half the time. It’s fast and you’re in control and he’s listening to you and you’re so drunk with this feeling. 

You can’t stop ramming into him, glad, actually, for once that you can’t feel how good Tadashi’s tight hole is squeezing your cock. It lets you fuck him relentlessly, no worry in the world about stamina even if your glutes and core are on fire from the constant motion. You don’t want to stop, can’t, not with how fucking perfect he looks, not with how fucking obedient he’s being. 

“I know you just want to be good, Dashi, fuck, we’ll teach you to be good, you’re being so good,” you moan. 

It’s like you’re a completely different person here, so vastly different than the last time you were in this bedroom. You don’t miss it, not even a little bit. Well… at least not at this exact moment. 

With no word from you, Kei has just been standing there, behind you, just watching . All of your attention is on Tadashi, soaking in his noises and body language, you’ve barely even noticed Kei. One quick glance over your shoulder and you can see how mesmerized he looks taking it all in, seeing you in this new element. You see the bulge in his pants, the little satisfaction that he is getting from his own palm. After doing so much already, he deserves better than what he’s giving himself now. 

“Do what you do best, Kei. Abuse his throat,” you command, trying to keep a steady voice through your wandering thoughts and thrusts. You don’t have to ask him twice, barely have to finish the three word demand and he’s walking around to the other side of the bed. 

He gets to see the side that you don’t get to see, the mouth agape and wet lashes. All that you get to see is the smirk that plagues the bottom half of Kei’s face as soon as Tadashi is in view. Your thrusts are slower now, but still at a steady enough pace to appreciate the subtle ripples in the fat of Tadashi’s ass, letting Kei get a good hold on the situation, giving up just a small fraction of your control so that Kei can have his way with Tadashi. 

You offer a bit of advice as Kei is undoing his buckle. “It’s easy to pleasure Kei,” you breathe, “You just let him do whatever he wants to you.” You can practically feel Tadashi tighten around you. 

“Open,” Kei says as soon as his cock is exposed to the air. “Wider than that, Tadashi, don’t insult me.” Both of Kei’s hands are braced on either side of Tadashi’s face as Kei pushes the tip of his cock past Tadashi’s lips. “Just like that, good.” Kei’s voice is monotonous, if only a bit condescending. “Keep that hole nice and tight for me.”

You watch Tadashi shiver as he drinks up every single word. Tadashi has been on the reciprocating end of Kei’s smart mouth before, but not like this. Even the last time he was in this room with the two of you, the directions that he was following only affected himself. Tadashi knows how poor he’s been at pleasing you in the past and he really just wants to be good, wants to listen and learn.

Kei shallowly thrusts in and out of Tadashi’s mouth, the head of his cock repeatedly slipping past Tadashi’s wet lips. “Use that slutty fucking tongue, Tadashi. You’re not doing anything, just sitting there getting railed, the least you could do is move your tongue.” Kei lets his head fall back, something evidently changing in the technique that Tadashi is using. “Good.”

The more that Kei seems to be enjoying it, the deeper his thrusts go, the faster his pace. It doesn’t take long for Kei to start using Tadashi like he uses you. If Tadashi didn’t look like he was enjoying himself as much as he did, pushing back onto your cock, whimpering and gagging around Kei’s, you would have stopped and taken his place. 

He couldn’t make you come for years, even as you tried to guide him, begged him as you cried out instructions, but there was something so different about the way he’s going down on Kei. 

You had directed him in the past, nudged his face where you wanted it to be, wrapped your legs around his neck to pull him deeper, but none of it mattered. He just couldn’t make you come. 

But there was something so distinctly different about the way Kei was treating Tadashi. There was no begging or asking, and directing wasn’t the right word, neither was guiding. Kei now has a commanding hold of Tadashi’s face, one hand on either side as he moves Tadashi’s mouth up and down his cock. His hips are still, letting Tadashi’s head bob through the complete motion. 

When Kei’s methods catch your eye, you can’t help but stop to take it in, no longer watching the ripples in his skin as your hips meet his ass, now watching it unfold from this angle, from behind Tadashi, your cock engulfed by his tight hole.

Kei’s long fingers bracket Tadashi’s face, pushing into his jaw, neck, cheek, wherever he could reach, and wherever he needed to adjust to get the most perfect angle. It’s mesmerizing. 

And it’s so different from the way he handles you. Sometimes he holds your face like that, moves you so agonizingly slow on his length that your throat will hurt for days after, but there’s always an amount of trust. 

This in front of you? The way that Kei is so meticulously moving Tadashi, the way that he’s leaving nothing up to assumption or interpretation, this is Kei teaching. 

He’s wordless about it, doesn’t teach Tadashi through verbal instructions or lengthy explanations, he just shows him exactly what he wants. It’s almost more condescending than if Kei was talking down to him in a way, like he’s too stupid to understand what he means, so he can only show him. 

You don’t think Tadashi catches this or thinks this far or has any thoughts at all right now other than controlling his breathing and every single muscle in his mouth and throat. It’s not a normal state of being, you know that well. 

You catch a glimpse of Kei’s face, manage to pull your attention away from the thick cock splitting Tadashi open and Kei’s strong hands on Tadashi’s jaw. His face is strewn with pleasure and concentration. You don’t normally get to watch Kei from this angle nor this intently. You watch his eyebrows furrow together, his jaw clench between slow exhales, his features soften and his eyes flutter close every once and awhile. You’re cursing yourself for never having filmed the two of you having sex. You would watch this on repeat if you could.

“Kei,” you breathe, ready to repeat yourself on account of how quiet his name is in comparison to the lewd sounds that are bouncing off the walls. Kei looks up at you immediately with an air of confusion, waiting for another command or instruction. When nothing else comes, he doesn’t break eye contact like you thought he might. He’s not paying attention to Tadashi save for the mindless thrusting. “God, you look so good right now.”

He clicks his tongue at the compliment, shaking his head a small amount before returning his focus, looking back down almost quick enough to hide the subtle blush on his cheekbones. You don’t force him to look back at you, though you know that you could, but you still want to have some sort of contact with him. You are becoming increasingly aware of how much you want to be where Tadashi is and how much you want to feel Kei’s skin on yours.

Tadashi’s voice pulls you out of it, the repetition of your name that follows his gasping for air. “Want, want to- So good- Need to come,” Tadashi manages to get out in between harsh swallows and intakes of air. 

“Not yet.” It comes out of your mouth without any thought and you realize why Kei does this so often. The sense of power that comes alongside controlling Tadashi’s orgasm is mindblowing. Even if he came right now, didn’t listen to you at all, you would have rode this high for weeks. 

Tadashi does listen, though. He whimpers a small okay before Kei starts using his throat again. You claw your fingernails into his hips, pressing hard enough to leave small indents in his soft skin, and you pull him onto your cock to match your thrusts. “Look at that, see, you didn’t need to cum, not yet, Dashi, being such a good boy.”

Kei only gets to fuck Tadashi’s throat for a few moments before Tadashi is pulling away once again. “I- I can’t hold it any longer, please,” Tadashi’s voice cracks as he begs. “Please.” You pull out in one motion leaving Tadashi gaping and empty in front of you. 

“Then come, Tadashi,” you say in a tone that is eerily as condescending as Kei’s. You run your hands down Tadashi’s side, grabbing onto his ass and spreading him open as wide as you can. “If you can’t hold it, then cum.”

Tadashi is thrusting into the air. “I- I can’t.”

“You’ve come without touching yourself before,” your voice is stern but steady at first, but as you keep thinking about it, there is a simmering underlying anger that is emerging. “Sat right there on the corner of the bed and came in your pants like a pathetic little cuck.”

You grab Tadashi by the shoulder, flipping him over onto his back. “Kei, pillow under his head so he can look at me while I’m fucking talking to him.” Kei doesn’t hesitate for a second, puts the pillow underneath Tadashi’s head so that his line of sight is directly at your face, eyes narrowed as you continue. 

“When no one is paying attention to you, when you’re watching your ex get railed and satisfied in a way that you never could, you lose your mind. You’ll shoot your load, make a fucking mess all over yourself, but when I’m here giving you everything that you could ever want, you can’t fucking come?”

You positioned yourself between Tadashi’s legs, the head of the dildo grazing his hole. “What? When Kei tells you to do it you can, but when I tell you to come after pounding my fat fucking cock in and out of you, you can’t? Do you know how fucking pathetic that is?” 

Tadashi’s chest is rising and falling faster, his breath is labored and he’s not breaking eye contact with you. You can tell just how close he is.

“I won’t tell you again. Instead, I’ll just fucking leave. Come. Now.” You wrap your hand around his throat, leaning your weight into your grip as his face scrunches up in ecstasy. His lips are moving, but no sound is coming out and only when you ease up on your grip can you hear the gratitude that he’s repeating in between the grunts.

His come spills from the head of his cock, lazily dripping down the sides of his rock hard erection and down his twitching balls. He’s struggling to keep his hands at his side and not jerk himself off through his orgasm. 

“Is that all it took?” you scoff, pressing the head of the dildo against his asshole, catching some of his come as it drips down. “Still hard though, right, Dashi? Still want to get fucked?” You don’t give him time to answer before pushing your hips forward, slowly spearing him with your cock as tears fall from his eyes.

“Yes, fuck, please, I want to come again,” Tadashi begs, eyes not leaving yours. 

“Greedy,” you shake your head, but you can’t hide your smirk as you pick up the pace. In this position you get to watch his face as you ruin him. The tears that are running down his face, wetting his cheeks and long lashes, just make it that much hotter. His cock is slapping against his stomach as thrust in and out of him.

It doesn’t take long before his breaths are closer together, back is arching, hips rolling, and he’s nodding in your direction. “I- I’m already so close. Can- I need- I want-.”

“What do you want? Tell me and I’ll give it to you. You’ve been so good, came for me without anything but my voice, took Kei’s cock so well, just tell me what you want,” you say.

No one has touched his cock all night, covered in his own come, violently twitching against himself as it slaps against his stomach. 

His eyes are screwed shut, thrusting up into nothing, consequently fucking himself on your cock, you’re sure that he’s going to ask to touch himself. In your mind, there’s no other option, nothing that he would feel comfortable enough asking for. 

It leaves his mouth so confidently. He trusts you so much, knows that you wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true, so he asks for exactly what he wants and he’s so assured as he does. 

“Want Tsukki’s mouth on my cock.”

You look up to see Kei’s reaction, refuse to do it if there is any sort of discomfort or distaste, but there’s nothing of the sort. He gives a short nod, a nod that Tadashi is too fucked out to notice. You don’t slow your pace or allow a falter in your rhythm as you watch Kei climb onto the bed. He’s gentle as he takes Tadashi’s cock into his mouth, captures the head first, swirling his tongue around the tip before taking the entire length. Kei doesn’t seem to struggle much, easily takes it to the base.

Tadashi is surprised despite the fact that he’s the one that asked for it so nicely. His eyes flutter shut, truly taking in every single feeling and sensation that is happening to him right now. Tadashi’s hips are thrusting up into Kei’s mouth now, moaning as he slides down Kei’s throat and then falls down onto your cock. 

“Gonna- Can I? Please,” Tadashi can barely say more than two words at a time, but you know exactly what he’s asking for. 

“Go ahead, Dashi, come, you deserve it.” 

As soon as you say the word, he’s coming down Kei’s throat. You watch it drip from the corners of Kei’s mouth as Tadashi keeps thrusting desperately. Tadashi is thanking you and thanking Kei and mumbling other words that you can’t quite pick up. His hands are roaming, trying to find a place to land. One finds a spot lightly on Kei’s shoulder and you meet the other hand with your own, locking your fingers with his as he holds onto you through his orgasm.

Kei waits for Tadashi to calm down before pulling his head off of his cock. Kei wipes his lips and you can tell there's a smart comment that wants to come out so badly, but he doesn’t get the chance to say it. 

“Thank you,” Tadashi says, eyes shutting every other second. You’re surprised that he’s still awake after two back-to-back orgasms like that. His eyebrows furrow and he perks up just a little bit, “but, wait, what about- what about you guys?”

You shake your head, carefully getting up from the bed, cautious not to disturb Tadashi as Kei gently positions him more comfortably in bed. You unbuckle the straps on your harness, taking it off and stepping out of it. You feel so light without the extra weight between your legs.

You manage to get in bed before Kei reaches for the covers and extra blankets. “This wasn’t about us,” you assure Tadashi. “Thank you for letting us in and for trusting us enough to do this again.” You feel the mattress dip behind you as Kei climbs underneath the covers he’s laid on top of the two of you. 

In the morning there will be more to say, more conversations to be had, boundaries to set and feelings to talk out, but for now… for now you are happily in bed, surrounded and warm, and you know that your company is too. 

taglist: @daddyjackfrost @karasunoya @girlwith-kalei-do-scope-eyes @itsmeteiiteii @omiivr @cyueksims @kei-tsuki21 @ks-tsukki @snazzyturtles @rinniemybeloved @tsukiran @kurapika-1999 @hehatesmati

join my taglist here!! ~~ (one more chapter left?!?!?!) ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut #hq smut #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #tsukishima kei x reader #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi smut #tsukishima x yn #toriwritesshit #not fair!

[foolforharrry]

Strawberries & Memories - Chapter 2 - It's Beautiful Isn't it?

Hi. This is the second chapter of my brand new book. I'm really excited about it and it would mean a lot if you shared it or gave me some feedback on it.

Summary for Strawberries & Memories: Anna went to the Coachella Music Festival to finally see her idol perform in person. Little did she know that would end up changing her life forever in ways she never even dared dream of. But everything comes at a cost.

Chapter index

Chapter 1

I really hope you enjoy this story as much as i enjoy writing it

"You're lying right?"

I shake my head, unable to suppress the massive grin threatening to break out on my face. "I am dead fucking serious, Morgs."

While I wait for her to process, I take in the calming sound of the waves rolling over the sandy beach before retracting back into the ocean again and the warm sun hitting my skin. My sunburnt skin.

I need to start remembering to wear sunscreen when I'm here. Or anywhere with sun and the danger of getting sunburnt.

I did my best to avoid getting sand in my shoes, but the second I stepped onto the beach, that game was lost. Under normal circumstances, I would have been grumpy and frustrated about it until I was back

"You're telling me that the man you've been drooling over since you were a teenager invited you out for drinks...and you said no?" I flinch when she screams the last part, grimacing at the unnecessarily loud volume.

"Jeez. Calm down please.", I plead, deciding to just sit down in the sand. My phone is in my tote bag, probably getting the screen in worse condition than it already is as Morgan keeps scolding me for being responsible and not going out with someone who's virtually a stranger.

"...finally getting some action. You know if you keep not taking opportunities like these, then you're going to end up being the grumpy cat lady who is mean to everyone but her cats."

"At least I would be the cool aunt to your kids.", I point out, expecting her to argue it. But instead, she changes the topic, "So since you obviously weren't busy with a man these last two days I haven't heard from you. What were you doing?"

"I've been getting busy with my laptop."

Margot giggles, "I hope you hear how sad that sounds, Anna. You're in LA and you're couped up in a café and your hotel room with your laptop instead of doing something you can't do back home."

I know she's right. But there isn't a lot I can do about it. When inspiration strikes, I have to use it. Because there is very little that compares to when the block finally eases up and everything you've wanted to get out just flows out just the way you want it to.

"I am outside now. And not at a café. To socialise.", I defend my life choices even though I know she isn't going to change her mind. She rarely ever does.

It's one of the things I love most about her.

"Whatever you say, baby." Morgan doesn't sound convinced at all. "I gotta go. I've got a hot date waiting for me."

"You better tell me all about them when I get home tomorrow night."

We say our goodbyes rather quickly. The second she hangs up; Spotify resumes my playlist. It has an instant calm wash over me when the familiar melody to 'Night Changes' starts. The same way the water does the beach.

I've always had a love for music in general. Not just because music is something truly and undeniably beautiful. It's also the ability it has to make me go from devastatingly sad to dancing with joy in a beat. And vice versa. Or the way it can transport you back to a moment you've tied to the song so effortlessly you don't even notice it until the memory is playing like a movie in your head.

It still feels surreal that I've met the man who's written a lot of the songs that gave me the strength to keep clawing myself back off the edge when all I'd wanted to do was let go.

I'm honestly convinced I had a stroke at some point and these past few days are just a figment of my own imagination while my body is in a coma somewhere. And I have a tube stuffed down my throat and the doctors have decided I'm brain dead and they're about to pull the plug so all my organs can be donated to the dumpsters.

If against all odds, that's not the case, then the last two days I've done a few things.

1. I've found a new favourite café to sit and write at. It has the cutest little stuffed bunnies everywhere and little cookies shaped like seals.

2. I have written at the café.

3. I have talked to Harry Styles.

I still don't fully understand what possessed Harry to actually DM me instead of just unfollowing me the second I left on Saturday. But he did. And I can't say that I have been complaining about it.

I have learnt two things about him.

1. He is genuinely funny.

2. He is also clinically insane.

He would have to be for asking me to meet him. Again.

I threw my phone across the room when the words 'would you want to meet' were in the grey bubble on my screen. From him. I might also have screamed as if I was dying, but that's beside the point.

And what else could I answer him with but, 'Are you on drugs right now?'. And I stand by that. What else was I supposed to say? Something normal?

Like, just say no? Probably would've been the best thing for me to say considering I'm not even half as stable as a normal person should be. But after Harry assured me that he was 100% not on any kind of drugs and promised no one had a gun to his or his loved ones' head, we agreed that he would pick me up here.

I still don't know what or why he wants to see me again, but it's too late to talk myself out of it now.

He told me to meet him here at 3. And looking at the time right now, it's in two minutes.

I'm never on time, but I am for sure not going to be late when I am meeting him.

"Ok, Anna. You can do this.", I tell myself, doing my best to focus on the distant sound of the traffic that's almost completely drowned out by the waves.

Almost.

The beach is around a five-minute drive from the highway. I couldn't see any clear point I was supposed to get out of the taxi, so I just told him to drop me off when he was starting to get a little impatient.

I sent Harry a photo of where I settled on getting out of the taxi. So hopefully he manages to find it.

The taxi driver was a sweetheart though. He even asked me if I was sure I wanted to be dropped off in the middle of nowhere.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

With wide eyes, I snap my head towards the sound of the voice. If it had been anyone else, I would've probably jumped out of my skin from someone suddenly sitting down next to me without me noticing until they speak.

I clear my throat, doing the best  I can to push away the nerves that have been bubbling in my stomach ever since I opened my eyes this morning.

Don't say something stupid now.

"Yeah, it is pretty." Ok, that's not the stupidest thing I've ever said. We're good. "Hi."

Harry's smile grows wider, his bunny teeth coming into view as I feel my own smile grow as well.

What can I say? He has an infectious smile.

His curls are mostly pushed back and out of his face by his hands. But a few, short strands have fallen over his forehead and temples despite the comfortable breeze coming from the ocean. The ends of the hair barely brush against his eyelashes. They move every time he blinks.

He must have noticed me staring at it because he lets out a light laugh while pushing the rebel hairs back with the rest, "I forgot to grab my clip, so it keeps falling in my eyes."

"That happens to the best of us. I have a spare hair tie if you want it?", I offer, already rolling it off my wrist. Harry takes it, quickly and skilfully gathering a large section of hair on the top of his head and twisting it around his finger until it's a little ball. That's when he seals it with the hair tie.

"Thank you, Anna." I cock an eyebrow at the way he emphasizes my name. "You're welcome, Harry."

Harry wrinkles his nose a little, his eyebrows scrunching together, "That feels a little weird."

"What's weird?", I ask confused. "No, no, no.", he sits up a little straighter, probably getting more sand on his brown, wide-legged trousers. "I like my name. But all my friends call me H. It's just strange when you say Harry."

I feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my head.

Do. Not. Say something stupid. "You're not allowed to call me A.", I tell him seriously.

I've watched two seasons of Pretty Little Liars. And what I learnt from it is that nothing good ever comes from someone called 'A'. I'm not saying I'm this really great person who only brings good into the world. But at least I don't send encrypted texts and torment a group of teenagers.

"Ok. Deal. I won't call you A and you don't call me Harry." He holds his hand out between us expectantly. His fingers are curled up into a fist apart from his pinkie.

"I might call you Harry. But on very rare occasions." "Deal."

I wrap my own pinkie around his, squeezing it firmly while nodding, "You can't go back on a pinkie promise." "Oh, pinkie promises are holier than marriage, darling."

"Does this mean I'm your friend?", I have to ask to make sure I don't just assume something he doesn't mean. Because he just said his friends call him H. He didn't actually call me his friend. If I just went around thinking we weren't. That would be way too embarrassing. Even for me.

Harry releases the hold his thumb and pointer finger had on his bottom lip, his smile dropping. "Do you not want to be? I- I'm so sorry, Anna. I completely just assumed. But if it makes you more comfortable, we could be sworn enemies or something."

He furrows his eyebrows, scowling at me playfully as if he was actually mad at me while gesturing to his face "I can be angry and scary. Just look at this."

My hand flies up to stifle my mouth to stifle a laugh while he keeps up the 'angry' face. "You look like an angry kitten."

Harry shoves me playfully, "You're a dick." "At least I don't push people.", I roll my eyes at him while brushing off the sand on my left arm from catching myself on the sandy ground.

He points a stern finger at me, "I only push people when they insult my angry face. It is very scary. You've just been around too many scary people to know." He justifies his actions as he stands back up off the ground, stretching his hand out for me to take.

"By scary people do you mean Morgan?", I ask him with a cocked eyebrow. I accept the gesture hesitantly, not fully trusting him not to drop my ass to the ground. He keeps a strong grip on my hand, helping me off the sand with ease as he nods, "She seems pretty terrifying from what you've told me." He doesn't even bat an eye when I thank him with an obnoxiously high voice. He just offers me a soft smile.

If he doesn't run for the hills now, I'll be more surprised than I was when he asked me to meet him here.

"She is pretty great though.", I say softly. Harry hums, "That's great."

He is wearing a white t-shirt with brown and beige stripes tucked into his trousers. It looks immaculate. There should be some kind of law against it to be honest.

I trail after him when he motions for me to follow him.

"So, did you have anything specific in mind. Or did you just plan on walks on the beach and kidnappings?", I ask him after walking in wordlessly for a bit, kind of regretting breaking the serene calm that came from the waves.

If Morgan would be up for it, maybe moving to LA wouldn't be such a bad idea. Or at least to somewhere with beaches like these.

Harry takes a minute, keeping a slow, steady pace as the sand dips beneath our feet. "I was going to ask if you had anything you wanted to do in LA before I suggest anything.", he explains, making a wide grin spread on my face before he adds, "This is your first time here, right?"

I ignore the warm feeling in my stomach from the fact that he remembers that I told him this is my first time in California. Instead, I play it off. "Do you mean at this beach or in Los Angeles in general?"

"Please tell me you're not trying to be funny right now, Anna.", he pleads. "Because that's just sad."

I scoff, pretending to be offended, "It's better than some of the jokes you've come up with." "What do you mean? My jokes are amazing. You just have no humour." Harry turns his nose up and away from me. The sun is making the higher points of his face stand out more and it's getting harder to keep myself serious.

"Sure, H. I'm the one with no humour, Mr. let's start a conversation with the worst pick-up line I've ever heard."

Harry purses his lips, blowing out air in disappointment, "Don't you know that the foundation for every good friendship is a good pick-up line?" I take a second, debating to myself whether or not I should comment on it while also trying not to laugh.

I decide to just agree with him. "Sure, H. Whatever you say. And to answer your question." Harry perks up at that, directing his full attention back to me. "No, I didn't have anything I wanted to do in LA."

"You're fucking with me, right? You go to LA for the first time, and you don't have anything planned other than Coachella?" When I shake my head, Harry walks faster than before, grabbing my forearm to make sure I'm keeping up with him.

I laugh at how much this seems to be bothering him, "I've had a really nice time, though. I've been working. And I'm going home tomorrow anyways."

"If you're leaving tomorrow, we have to get going.", he tells me, changing direction from going straight forward to away from the sealine and to a car parked just where the sand begins.

"Where are we going?"

Harry twists his head to look at me, still nearly speed-walking to his car, "We're going sightseeing."

-

Masterlist

#harry #harry smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles masterlist #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles #one direction #fanfiction #masterlist #coachella #harrychella

[peachdues]

i won't lie.... i may or may not open up tumblr every hour or so just to stalk your page (this is insane i need to stop).

how long does it take you to write every chapter/part of phantasmagoria??? or just fanfictions and works in general. or maybe every 10k words,,,, whatever's easiest to estimate the time for

CAUSE YOU WRITE SO MUCH OMG?????????????? it's insane (in such a good way) also is phantasmagoria j 3 parts or more? epilogue? or.... > . < i'm curious so so curious

i wanna swear off of fanfiction after you're doing w phantasmagoria but I STILL WANNA READ TWAHM AND SEASONS IN LOVE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH maybe i should block tumblr x-x my obsession is insane

THANK YOU ALWAYS FOR WRITING :DD it felt so weird stalking your page/spotify playlists without interacting so uhm here's an ask and a notice that you might have an influx of comments on your posts. or none. depending on if i cut myself off of this addiction!!!!!

TYTYTYTYTYTYT FOR WRITING it's genuinely so beautiful i wanna steal it HOW DID YOU GET SO GOOD AT WRITING IMA LEAVE NOW HAVE A GOOD NIGHT AND DAY

aww thank you!

I mean, as a writer, I obviously don't want you to swear off fanfiction lol, BUT I get it. You've gotta do what's best for you!

Phantasmagoria is my first 3-part fic, so Part III is currently being written, and it will feature an epilogue (y'all aren't prepared, I just KNOW it). It will probably be about as long as the other two parts (bringing the grand total word count to around 35k words).

To answer your question about how long it takes me to write -- it really depends, lol. I write in short bursts (usually when I have a few minutes), and write on my phone. It depends on what I'm writing, too. For example, I wrote Veneration in 20 minutes while I was at the starbucks drive-thru. I wrote Part 2 of Tell Me to Stop (Kyojuro) in about 2-3 days (that was 16.5k words).

I've had blurbs written for Phantasmagoria since June (well before I announced it), BUT I spent about 6 hours this past weekend filling in the gaps. Part II was probably the part I had the most content already written for. I could probably have done it from scratch in about the same amount of time, if I sat down and wasn't interrupted. Part 3 is arguably the one I've had the least amount completed, and right now, it's sitting at about 5k words, and I would say I'm only halfway done, if that.

However, for me, banging out a 10k+ word fic in a day is child's play -- BUT that's because I'm in a profession where 90% of my job is writing, and writing fast. I've churned out full, 25-page legal briefs in a matter of hours, with full citations. In college, I wrote a 30-40 page research/policy paper a week. Same in law school. It's just second nature to me at this point.

Thank you so much for your kind words! I really appreciate it, and I appreciate the time it takes for you to read my nonsense. Sending you my undying love!

#peach's asks

[maybestoryideas]

A Letter in the Story - Twisted Wonderland + Reader

Author's Note: I started the day listening to "Hungover in the City of Dust" by Autoheart and ended it with "The Story of My Life" by Bon Jovi. It's kind of crazy how little things can change your whole mood. I truly hope you like this. Warnings: References to depression and anxiety Word Count: 1.7k

“(Name)? C’mon, we’ve gotta get moving.”

The second you opened your eyes, you knew it was going to be one of those days.

The idea of going back to sleep and falling into another harmless dream sinks its claws into your shoulders and ties you to the bed.

How much time did you have before you inevitably had to leave the comfort of the not-really-your room and make the slough to class?

You grab your phone from the table and check the time; one hour until class starts.

Thirty minutes to get ready, plus another fifteen to get to class, and that’s if you’re ready to hurry and skip breakfast in the cafeteria.

Which you’re not.

It takes ten minutes for you to peel blankets off and crawl out of bed. The bell rings just as you step into the classroom.

“Hey, (Name)! Grim!”

You both look over and spot Ace and Deuce waving you down. Grim crawls up onto the table while you take a seat beside them. The textbooks hit the table with a clatter that makes the other students jump.

“(Name)?”

“What’s wrong?”

You chuckle and rest the top half of your body onto the table

“Do you want the long answer or the short answer?”

Professor Crewel enters the room before either of them could respond, already shouting orders and announcements to everyone. You push yourself back into an upright sitting position, giving Grim the perfect opportunity to take a seat on your lap. He’s warm and heavy.

Like a weighted blanket.

One hand pets his fur, smoothing out the occasional knots in his fur, while the other opens up your textbook.

Class drags on, and less than half of what Professor Crewel has said registers in your head.

Not that it really matters.

It’s not like you’ll ever use any of the information on magic.

Can't use it.

Can’t do anything with it.

“(Name)!”

You nearly jump out of your seat, startling Grim awake and making him jump back onto the table. Despite being at least a good three feet above him, he still manages to stare you down like an insect.

And now the rest of the class is staring at you.

Great.

“Perhaps you’d be willing to read the next chapter?”

You sigh. “Fine.”

Tap-tap.

In the corner of your eye, you see Ace pointing to a block of text in his book. You quickly flip the page and start to read aloud. It’s a wonder how you manage to make yourself sound so lively.

Minutes turn into hours. First period turns into second, then third. You trace shapes and squiggles on your notes; the written words might as well have been in a foreign language.

You’re going to have to review all of the day’s classes later, aren’t you?

Great.

How long is that going to take? A day? Two days?

And for what?

Just so you don’t get kicked out of school you never enrolled in.

What a joke.

“(Name)?”

Deuce is standing beside you.

“Are you coming? We’re going to get lunch now,”

“Oh.”

You gather your papers and books, and follow behind the group of students shuffling out of the room. Ace, Deuce, and Grim bantered back and forth over random topics. Food, classes, club activities. The usual. Sometimes they look back to you and ask a question or make a remark.

“Okay, sure.”

“I guess so,”

“Huh, yeah…”

“Um, I dunno.”

It goes on and on. While you enter the cafeteria, wait in line, gather plates of food, and find a table to sit at. It’s only when they start eating that the conversation dies. Not that the room gets any quieter. You take a bite out of your lunch.

At least the food’s good.

“Hey, guys.”

The four of you look up to see Epel and Jack standing with their plates.

“Got room for two more?”

You all shuffle down a little to make room for them.

“That’s all you’re having?” Jack asks, looking down at your plate.

“I had a late breakfast,”

Grim’s too busy gorging himself to hear you.

“You’d better get something to eat between classes…”

His irritated sigh draws a smirk out of you.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” Epel begins, “Apparently the Mostro Lounge is having some kind of special. Drinks are worth double points today; why don’t we head there after class?”

“I guess a drink wouldn’t hurt.”

“Tch, you guys are still trying to take the easy way out?”

“Ooh, (Name), we’ve gotta go! I’ve almost filled out my point card; please?!”

When Grim looks up at you, the shining in his eyes is only matched by the bright blue flames. Behind him, the other first-years await your answer.

“I don’t know; I’ve got a bunch of stuff I need to take care of,”

“That’s fine! We can fill out a card and get a consultation with Azul!”

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

Epel just smiles, “It’s okay; we can always go another time if you’d like.”

You nod.

Next time.

There’s homework, there’s chores, and there’s next time.

You finish off your lunch and grab an apple before going back to class.

The rest of classes continues at a snail’s pace. You jot down notes that you’d have to redo in your free time, and listen to lectures that you’d no doubt forget by tomorrow. At least you didn’t have any hands-on classes; today was not a day for cleaning up messes and putting out fires.

Or maybe it is. It’d be nice to turn your brain off and deal with something so simple.

As the final class of the day wraps up, you glance at the clock hanging above your head.

How much time until you have to go to bed and start the cycle over again?

How much time can you afford to spend?

To waste?

You shove all of your papers and books together into a stack and hurry out of the room.

Just make it through the day.

And then what?

Another day. Then another day, and then another.

How many days until you finally find the way home? Or until someone finally tells you it’s impossible? Until you finally have an answer?

How much time is left until something finally happens?

The books in your hands feel heavier with each step. You could always make something happen right now.

You’re on the second floor. Just find the nearest window, open it, and throw it all to the sky. Watch it all fly through the air in one massive burst before falling to the ground below. It’d be a beautiful sight. Of course, the teachers would be furious with you, but you probably wouldn’t care about staying in their good graces at that point.

“Hey, (Name)!”

Kalim walks up to you with a smile, while Jamil watches you with a blank expression.

“Need a hand there?”

“I’m fine,”

“Are you sure? That’s a lot of books. Here! Let me help you!”

He lifts the stack of papers and first two books right off the top and smiles.

“So where are we headed?”

The original plan was to go back to Ramshackle, but you’d rather not make them trek all the way. The second plan…

“The library. I need to return a few things.”

“Alright, let’s go!”

Kalim’s already running off ahead of you, leaving you and Jamil to watch.

“Does he even know where he’s going?”

Jamil smirks. “Generally. We should keep up, just in case.”

You walk side by side, with Kalim a distance ahead but still in clear sight.

“If you need help studying, I’m sure Kalim wouldn’t mind the extra company at our next session.”

“Oh, um. That’s okay. I’m just… having an off day.”

“I see.” he paused before taking another book from the stack, “Well, I hope you realize the offer still stands. Especially for ‘off’ days.”

“Okay, Azul.”

He puts the book back in your arms.

“Hahah! C’mon, that was funny. Admit it.”

“Heh, whatever.”

You part ways once you get to the library, taking the books and papers from Kalim and waving them off with a little smile. You pass the shelves, stack of books in tow. The thought of everything you missed today still elicits a sense of dread, but not quite as badly as before.

Just get through the day.

You repeat the mantra as you start putting the books away, trying your best to ignore the lingering feelings.

Or perhaps it’s better to tackle them head on? How would you even begin such a thing?

You sigh, putting away the last of the books. One thing at a time. And since you’re in the library, you might as well complete today’s work.

A lone desk sits by the window invitingly. Compared to the bustle of the cafeteria, and the droning of today’s lectures, the silence in the library was a welcome change.

Unrelated questions and answers pop into your head.

Are you doing this right? It feels right. But there’s a difference between feeling and being. It’s all you can do, isn’t it?

You shake them away. Slowly but surely, you finish the assignments. The notes are still a mess, but you’ll have to deal with that for a later day. 

Though you really should take care of those now.

The sun hangs low in the sky, and your hand hurts from writing so much. A quick glance at your phone shows that it’s getting late; too late for drinks at the Lounge.

Next time. You’ll go next time.

With that decided, you gather your belongings and prepare for the trek back to Ramshackle.

On the way back, you get a few messages from some more students. Friendly questions and offers to study or hang out. Also a warning that Floyd’s in a mood because, ‘Koebi-chan didn’t show. TT_TT’. You either have to visit the Lounge very soon, or avoid it altogether.

By the time you get back to Ramshackle, the sky’s gone from a pale red to a dark blue. You open the door and flick on the lights. Grim’s probably already asleep, so you move as quietly as possible up to your room.

When you open the door, the first thing you see is the little monster asleep on your bed.

The second thing you see is an unopened can of tuna on the bedside table, with a little scrap of paper on it.

‘For Henchman’

You smile and gently pet him before taking the can. A sandwich sounds nice right about now. You’ll have to take him to the Lounge soon.

#Twisted Wonderland #Reader Insert

[bvannn]

Weekly Update March 1, 2024

I’m not doing the best this week but I’m also not doing the worst. I’ve not been sleeping well and I think it’s culminating today so slightly early update post just in case I fall asleep early tonight. I’ve had on and off moodiness and flareups but not a whole lot of surgery sickness, hoping next week will be the same. I think this week was a lot of semester stress, which makes it hard to take care of myself. I just ate three applesauces and next week is spring break, so I should have a bit of breathing room for more art stuff. Just in time for my art block to maybe be giving way. All I gotta do is get caught up on sleep, which I’ll try to start tonight.

So I’ve been trying to put more brain power into actual Oc story writing stuff this week. I have the little comic I’m working on in the background and that’s going a bit slower than I’d like but I’m still making progress and reviewing over it there’s fewer older pages needing redo than I’d thought. I’m also now officially through the second act of the episode/chapter/ w/e, so the third should move smoothly. Scenes are flowing nicer than I thought they would, generally going pretty good.

I also finally think my animation art block is giving way. Clip studio is good for flowier animation so I’d like to combine it with flash for any actual big animation projects I try to pick up but on it’s own it’s fine for smaller ones. I might do some more sketch style test animations for unfamiliar movements, and eventually I’ll need to do a test for one with lineart and color layers. The interface is not user friendly at all but I did figure out how to do it the way I had wanted. Not planning on doing any shaded animations though, shading will have to be done with after effects somehow. I’ll round up ideas for test animations tonight because I’m very headfoggy today so I doubt I’ll be able to throw music together.

I’ll definitely do a quick little gif for the bigger song I finished, I’ll try to get going on the next one, but for the time being I might finish up some half baked covers. I’ve fiddled with vocaloid more now, have two half finished vocal parts I’m using to test out how the English and Japanese banks work with English songs. Japanese bank is working better than I thought, but it’s annoying having to play with the dynamic and exciter settings for certain consonants, and the limited vowel selection also sucks, but it’s not like the English banks have basically the same issues too. I just need to play with settings a bit more, finish writing out the vocal parts (should basically be copy paste at this point, I’m already through one chorus of each), and throw together instrumentals to go with them, but I picked songs with simple instrumentals anyway, so it shouldn’t be too hard to get a skeletal structure ready, then I can fill it in with piano or violin because I can’t go two songs without either I’m addicted.

Music comic and animation are the main things I did this week but I am slowly getting my updated commission sheet together. I’ll probably start timing myself on smaller songs so I can try to add music options properly. Animation comms would be nice too but that’ll definitely be a ways off.

I did make unexpected progress writing an epithet TTRPG campaign, it’s like mostly structured, but maps minis and some encounters still need to get written. I might sit down to do that over break. I’m more certain now that I’ll need to take people online as players but I’ll wait until I’m closer to run before I make a google form for that

I’m going to try to either spend tonight with friends or go to bed early or both. I’m a bit worried about my body because flareups have been getting bad but tomorrow I don’t have to move my legs at all beyond doing laundry so I should be fine. If plans for both fall through I’ll either watch a movie or cartoon (I don’t do very often but if I indulge in media I can improve my writing skills) or draw or both. Tomorrow is walled off for homework though I don’t think I’ll be able to do much else.

#weekly update

[anistarrose]

Tag Game: First Lines

tagged by @novantinuum! thanks so much, Jen!

Rules are to share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you've written less than ten, that's no problem, don’t be shy and share anyway!

lotta TAZ stuff here for me, obviously, but the second most prevalent running thread has gotta be middle-aged and older people either Going Through It or About To Go Through It

fill up your lungs, feel better (The Adventure Zone: Balance)

In scattered clearings in the woods, outside cabins and encircling a lake, congregations of battle-tested heroes light campfires, tear open bags of marshmallows, and break into song and spooky stories alongside their friends, laughter bubbling up into the night air alongside the smoke and embers.

2. but the strangle lights in the sky were shining (The Adventure Zone: Balance)

Barry Bluejeans tears through the woods, lungs burning and head spinning.

3. if the grim reaper takes your professor before class starts then you're legally allowed to leave (The Adventure Zone: Balance)

Barry gets to work early, for some damn peace and quiet before he has to deal with office hours, but there’s already a guy here who won’t even allow him that luxury.

4. Someone I Have Loved, But Never Known - Chapter 1 (The Adventure Zone: Balance)

Two weeks in this world, and Lup misses the last one already.

5. leaving, as an injustice (The Adventure Zone: Balance)

Mavis does not remember her father by blood, and only knows what her Mom tells her, what pictures she’s shown.

6. Malaise (The Adventure Zone: Balance)

Lup’s died a lot of times before, and usually not been a big fan, if you could believe it.

7. Clawthornes Fly Blind (The Owl House) (cheating and putting two sentences because like. look at those sentences. you get it)

Lilith wasn’t expecting a call on the crystal ball from Luz at this hour, but, well. Teen sleep schedules will be what they are, especially without any supervision besides Eda’s.

8. hey there, ghosts, it's lup, your girl (The Adventure Zone: Balance)

Barry’s not getting his hopes up for surviving Wave Echo Cave.

9. parlay, as a gamble (The Adventure Zone: Balance) (side note: I still think this line and what immediately follows it are the single best opening I've ever written, please please please read my sad weird old man fic)

Merle’s sitting in his dorm on the moonbase, until he isn’t.

10. onwards, haphazardly (Gravity Falls)

Mabel hears an oink notification from her phone, but by the time she crosses the kitchen to check for the text, it’s started vibrating too, rhinestones clacking against the table.

tagging @holdmecloser-gandydancer, @fallen-gravity, @3hobbitsinatrenchcoat, and @fordtato, but only if you want to, of course!! also I'm most definitely forgetting folks, so anyone else, feel free to say I tagged you if you want to do this!

#number of times i opened with just namedropping my favorite middle-aged man: 3 #i see that there's only exactly one line where i did *not* mention any character by name #but it's still about the Foils and Parallels to barry. it's Always about barry. #tag meme

[tryskomys]

PSYCHO KILLER

Eddie Munson x OC

Chapter 17 - Moonchild

Summary: While the kids are questioned by the police, the older gang is stuck in the Upside Down. The apocalyptic vibe of the terrifying enviroment forces Maia and Eddie to confront their feelings.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Notes: woah, this took a while. something about this particular piece of the story was so hard to get through. but here we are! i have 5 more chapters planned, already have the last two written, now we just gotta get there. hopefully you’ll love it, i put my whole gory heart into it. <3 let’s fix this mess!

tw: blood, flirting at inappropriate times, classic upside down vibes and all that comes with it, you know the drill

Masterlist

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Maia gasped for air as they sprinted to hide behind the load of rocks further in the woods. The flock of demobats flew over their heads and they all sighed with relief, taking in their surroundings. She hesitantly traced her fingertips along the decaying stone behind her.

“Are we…where I think we are?” she breathlessly let out and looked at Nancy, who just silently nodded.

Skull Rock.

“Fucking hell…” Maia let out and forcefully rubbed her eyes.

Steve stumbled back and let out a pained grunt. Everyone snapped their heads at him and Nancy immediately scuttled over to him, scanning his wounds. Robin joined her and nervously chattered as Nancy tore off a piece of her blouse and cautiously wrapped it around his torso to stop the blood loss.

Eddie stood a bit further away and tapped his foot, darting between Steve’s bleeding abdomen and Maia’s lip, still gushing red. She kept on wiping it with the hem of her torn off t-shirt, accidentaly flashing Eddie a glimpse of her dirt-smeared stomach.

The delicate black lace that binded her chest peeked out as she lifted the fabric to her face and Eddie’s breath hitched in his throat, cursing himself when the sound made her look at him.

Her distressed eyes somehow snapped him back to the dire reality and she approached him, lifting her trembling fingers to his face to take a dried leaf out of his curls. He let out a shaky sigh, fluttering his eyes closed when her bloody knuckle brushed against his cheek. The contact made her lips twitch, creating a soft smile on her sad features.

She wouldn’t have looked away if she didn’t feel Robin’s presence behind her, which made her turn away from him and walk a few steps back, wiping her chin again.

Robin raised her eyebrows at Maia with a sly grin, but just as their eyes met, the shorter girl immediately snapped her head to the ground, not allowing Robin read her thoughts with her x-ray vision.

Eddie closed his eyes for a few seconds and rubbed his face, then he decided to get a better look around by crawling up on a big stone that stood behind them, eerily mirroring the same stone the two of them were sitting on just a few hours ago.

The green crowns of trees and milky clouds were now replaced by decaying bare branches illuminated by the swirling crimson sky, ocasionally booming with threatening thunder.

“So…this place is like Hawkins but with monsters and nasty shit?”

He turned back to the group, his cautious features framed by wet clumps of curls that looked even darker than usual.

“Pretty much.” Nancy nodded as she helped Steve stand up, holding onto his arm. Eddie started to step down, but she quickly raised her hand warningly.

“Watch out for the vines! It’s all a hive mind.”

“…it’s all a what?” Eddie frowned in confusion, cursing under his breath when Steve explained.

Robin’s idea to go to the police station for weapons caught Maia’s attention as she extended her hand to Eddie and he clasped it, bracing against it when he jumped down from the stone.

“We don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns. I have guns in my bedroom.” Nancy stated and looked around, radiating a fearless aura. Eddie raised his eyebrows.

“You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns…plural…in your bedroom?” he questioned, staring at her incredulously. Robin nervously giggled.

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?”

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver.” Nancy shook her head, annoyed at Eddie’s mocking disbelief. Steve chuckled.

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one.” he silently mused, his lips curling into a grin when Nancy smirked.

“You almost deserved it.” she playfully responded and Maia bit her cheek to stop herself from smiling, wiggling her eyebrows at Robin.

Eddie swiftly took off his denim vest and Maia saw a flash of blue with the corner of her eye, snapping her head at Eddie when it went flying in Steve’s face.

“For your modesty, dude.” Eddie bitterly muttered and Steve frowned, annoyed by the metalhead’s hostility.

Suddenly, the ground started shaking under their feet, the whole place rattling and booming.

Eddie instinctively grabbed Maia around the waist as they were falling down and extended his other arm to Robin, who held onto it as she crumbled down next to them. She hugged Robin closer and Eddie squeezed Maia into his chest, his eyes wide as he watched Steve and Nancy struggle to stay on their feet, holding onto each other. When the shaking stopped, they all took a moment to look around and process what just happened.

Then they heard something in the distance, screeching coming from multiple sides surrounding the stones.

“So guns seem like a pretty good idea to me.” Eddie muttered and sharply exhaled, checking if Maia and Robin are okay. Robin squeaked in agreement and sat up, rubbing her arm that hit the ground first.

Eddie stood up first and extended his hands to the girls, helping them up. Maia dusted off the dirt on her hands and wiped the fresh blood on her chin with the back of her hand. Nancy was first in line, leading them to what was supposed to be her home, followed by the others.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

Maia and Eddie walked a bit faster than Steve and Robin. With all the running they had to do in the past week, it just came natural to move as fast as they could to get out of this bullshit.

“You didn’t have to throw the vest so hard, Edward. You almost hit Nancy in the face.” Maia shook her head, stomping to gain some more balance on the uneven ground. She nudged Eddie with her elbow, making him stumble.

“Are you that jealous?”

He gasped.

“What? W-Why would I be jealous?” he hissed at her and pushed her back, shaking his head. She giggled.

“Well, you tell me! He’s a heartbreaker, isn’t he? Is that it? Or is it because you had a crush on Nancy a few years back?”

That made Eddie choke on his saliva.

“I didn’t know the wound was still so fresh, Munson. You surprise me every day.” she raised her eyebrows and turned around, walking backwards as her amused expression faced him. He chuckled.

“Okay, I never had a crush on Nancy. Where did you even-“

“A little birdie told me.” she grinned widely, still looking at him.

In reality she just deduced it. He was always pretty hostile towards Steve, who was, frankly, an asshole for a big portion of their school years. The freaks certainly didn’t escape the humiliation tactics of Tommy H. and the rest of his friend group. And Nancy was a beautiful girl, always was, even in middle school. Her and Maia were close friends at the time and Maia just sometimes caught Eddie staring at the two of them when they were talking in the hallways.

“Well, little birdie didn’t know shit. Wheeler? Like, Nancy Wheeler? Suburban good girls aren’t really my type.” he snorted with laughter and shook his head, carefully darting between her face and the ground to make sure she doesn’t walk into anything. She tutted at him.

“I mean, we’ve known each other for, what, eight years? And I still have no idea what your type is. You’re too unpredictable.” she mused and wiped her bloody chin again, her cheeks filling with red when Eddie’s gaze flickered down at her abdomen for a few seconds.

She cleared her throat and folded her arms, still carefully walking in front of him. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“My type? I feel like I’m too predictable to be honest.”

“Not really…enlighten me.” she nodded towards Eddie and grinned, glancing over his shoulder to see Steve and Robin chatting about something. He shrugged and sharply exhaled.

“Uh, you know…just your typical freak shit, elfs, nymphs,…halflings.” he muttered and she stumbled a bit, the blood filling her face made her dizzy for a second. He took two quick steps and caught her, his grip firm on her arms. Their eyes met and she chuckled, hesitantly moving her feet to set off in Nancy’s footsteps again.

“Well, Munson, hate to break it to you, but those are quite hard to come by these days.” she softly nudged him again as they walked next to each other. He hummed.

“Lucky me, then.” he whispered and reached out to ruffle her hair. Her lips curled into a wide grin and she winced as it stung, wiping away the fresh drops of blood that dripped down her chin.

“Wait, are you implying that I am not a good girl?” she teased, putting her palm on her chest to seem offended. He silently snickered, the dark surroundings making his dimples seem even deeper.

“Well, you are pretty defiant. You break the club rules and smart-mouth your dungeon master.”

She soundlessly gasped, his slick words sending a jolt through her stomach. They seeped into her brain and pushed out the distress.

“But other than that…you’re good when I need you to be, I’ll give you that.” he muttered, realizing he’s making himself blush with the boldness of his own words. She cleared her throat, unsure how to one-up his comments.

“All you gotta do is ask nicely, Munson. I only respond to reward-based motivation.” she shrugged and looked at him, meeting his enamored gaze. He breathlessly chuckled and nodded, averting his eyes back to the alien soil under his feet.

“‘Kay, I’ll make sure to remember that next time I cuff you.”

Next time.

The words bitterly sobered them from their sweet delusion, plaguing their minds with the realization that there might not be a next time. Right now, they were stuck in a place where even the twigs on the ground might attempt to strangle them. And back home isn’t much better, the demobats are manifested as rednecks with pitchforks looking for the slightest glimpse of their worn out clothes.

The sudden silence between them was filled out with ominous thunder and squelching noises all around them, the silent unintelligible rambling of Robin and the crunching of the decaying matter they were walking on. Eddie cleared his throat after a few minutes, carefully peeking at Maia as she dabbed the fabric of her collar on her lip.

“You know, uh, I meant what I said in the boathouse. Every word.”

Maia snapped her head at him, watching his dirty curls bounce as he stared straight in front of him.

“I mean, I love running away with you. But once all of this is over, we could…stop running, you know? Maybe get a place somewhere, get our own trailer after we graduate. I could finally stop selling shit and work full time at Tatcher’s, you’d still work at the shop, we’d manage somehow, I’m sure…or we could still run, you know? It’s up to you, we could run wherever you want.”

Eddie’s nervous rambling was punctuated by finally looking into her eyes. They mirrored his worry, his desparation, his desires. He stumbled a bit closer to her, just enough for their shoulders to touch.

“If we survive this, I’ll never leave your side.” he whispered, repeating his words from the day they left the shed.

He ghosted his ringed index finger over the back of her hand. Maia’s heart was thumping in her throat as she gradually gained confidence to slowly intertwine their fingers.

His hands were freezing cold and calloused, hardened by years of strumming and working on cars. Yet they felt like soft clouds to her, melting her anxiety into a warm wave crashing through her tired limbs. Her petite hand fit in his perfectly, like a two-piece jigsaw puzzle that was always meant to be completed this way. Their sad gazes exchanged the wordless message of mutual understanding.

“I’ll go wherever you take me, Eddie.” she softly whispered and pressed a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips.

It left a drop of blood behind so she reached out and wiped it with her thumb, putting a loose strand of hair behind his ear as she lowered her hand. He just silently nodded and let out a shaky breath.

A loud boom of thunder made them both jump and drop each other’s hands. The sky was fuming, for this was no place for tenderness. Robin jogged past them, joining Nancy in the front. Maia nudged Eddie and nodded towards Steve.

“How about you go talk to him? He’s not the same asshole he was back then. Please.”

Eddie whined and shook his head, slumping his shoulders like a little kid. She raised her eyebrows at him and nodded again, walking a bit faster to join the girls in the front. She gave him small thumbs up and a soft smile before turning her back on him and skipping a few steps to catch up with Nancy and Robin.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

Nancy was just telling Robin the story of how she threatened to shoot Steve during their first fight with the demogorgon when Maia joined them. She was so silent they haven’t noticed her at first, it was only after she giggled at Nancy’s depiction of Steve freaking out that they realized she’s with them.

“Oh, look who’s here!” Robin mused and threw her arm around Maia.

“Yeah, I wanted to give the boys some space to talk so Eddie would stop being an asshole.” she chuckled, scanning Nancy’s determined face.

“How close are we?”

“About five minutes, hopefully.” she shook her head, raising her eyebrows.

“Are you going to explain to us why Eddie Munson threw his lips on you while your nose and busted lip were gushing red?” she narrowed her eyes at Maia and Robin scrunched her nose in disgust.

“Bleugh, I told you he was into weird shit.” she pinched Maia’s sides to tickle her and giggled.

“Are we seriously talking about this right now? In a murderous alternate dimension?” Maia slapped Robin’s hands away, mindlessly wiping her lip even though it had already stopped bleeding. Her cheeks were bright red, visible even in the monotone darkness of the forest.

“Okay, holding hands with Eddie the Freak in an alternate dimension is fine, but questions about unhygienic smooching from your girlfriends? That’s where you draw a line.” Robin raised a stern finger and Nancy chortled, shaking her head. Maia mocked her laughter and nudged her quite harshly.

“Nance, I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, we all saw you salivating over shirtless Harrington spitting out blood, you’re not fooling anyone.”

“Um, no, actually no one saw that because we were all busy staring at two freaks exchanging bodily fluids after you desintegrated a demonic alien bat that tried to choke you. Grilling Nancy isn’t on the agenda right now.” Robin shook her head furiously and Nancy raised her eyebrows again, blushing slightly at the mention of Steve. Maia groaned.

“Fucking hell, Robin. We kissed, okay? We kissed and it felt good and I loved it and I wanna do it again. Is that what you want to hear?” she snapped at her, folding her arms in annoyance.

“Um, actually yes, that is what I wanted to hear.” Robin chuckled and looked at Nancy, who was biting her cheeks to hide her smirk.

“It’s so romantic, though. Stuck in an apocalyptic world that’s actively trying to kill you, on the run from pitchforks, death row hanging over your heads-“

“Thanks, Robin. You really know how to sell your point.” Maia rolled her eyes and Nancy snorted with laughter, breaking her façade.

“-and that’s when you both finally break. A little extreme to wait until you become serial killers, not gonna lie, but better late than never.” she finished with a big grin on her face, ruffling Maia’s hair. She slapped Robin’s hand away again, making her giggle.

“And Nancy still doesn’t know that he handcuffed you to a chair to punish you.”

“Wh-what?!” Nancy choked on her breath and snapped her head at Maia, who’s eyes were wide open as she slapped the back of Robin’s head.

“Does it really surprise you, Nance?” she whispered with a shrug and when Nancy was just about to respond, everything around them started shaking again.

Maia lost her balance and fell to her knees, grabbing onto a tree next to her. Robin fell down too, bracing against a big rock, mumbling about hating earthquakes. Nancy, though, suddenly started running towards something. Both Maia and Robin yelled after her, chasing her when the ground stabilized. When they found her, she was staring into the distance, fear and pain painted across her features.

The Wheelers house.

Corrupted, covered in decaying slimy vines, falling apart. The guys caught up with them, cautiously scanning the scene in front of them. Nancy’s breath shivered.

“Come on.” she breathlessly whispered and none of them said a word again.

・○・��・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

When they entered the house, Maia’s heart dropped into her stomach. The place was identical to the Wheeler house. It seemed to be.

But it was plagued by the never ending vines that didn’t seem to grow from anywhere in particular, the walls were peeling and mouldy, air filled with the floating particles that seemed to be everywhere in this godforsaken world. The whole house seemed to be…throbbing. Pulsing. Like a big sentient organism parasitizing on everything around it.

“Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.” Robin peeped as she was looking around, her hands shaking. Nancy closed her eyes for a second and her breath shivered.

“Come on, I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to.” she sighed and walked up the stairs, followed by the rest of them. Maia walked behind Steve, but he suddenly stopped, snapping his head towards the kitchen.

“What’s wrong? Steve?” Maia nudged him but his eyes widened as he pointed the flashlight into the room.

“Am I crazy or can you hear it too?” he whispered and raised his hand, shushing her when she was about to speak. She tried to listen closer, but there was nothing. Until…whispers that were barely there softly echoed through the room, originating in the kitchen. They exchanged a confused look and jogged down the stairs.

Maia took out her pocket knife and flicked it open as Steve stood in front of her, shielding her with his arm. They cautiously entered the kitchen and the whispers grew louder, eerily carried through the air, as if the particles around them eminated the noise. Maia realised they weren’t whispers, it was like a normal conversation, only coming through some kind of a sound barrier.

“What the fuck?” she whispered under her breath as they slowly creeped through the kitchen, Steve squeezing her closer at the slightest noise of movement. The next few words echoed a bit louder, this time it was clearly a girl’s voice. The response that followed made Maia’s throat tighten. The diction, the choice of words, the lisp. She stared at Steve in shock and it took him a few seconds before his face twisted into the same grimace, realizing what was happening.

“DUSTIN!” they both screamed in unison, mumbling their young friend’s name as the gang ran down the stairs, terrified of what’s going on down there. They found the two of them stumbling around the kitchen in a weird reversed embrace, waving the knife and the flashlight in front of them, checking every nook of the room. When Steve pointed the light at them, they all squinted, their faces confused and worried.

“It’s Dustin, he’s here!” Maia threw her arms around with deranged eyes, flickering between the walls and her friends.

“Henderson, he’s here…that little shit, he’s here, in the walls or something, listen.” Steve rambled and shushed everyone, but suddenly there was nothing to hear. He looked at Maia, who shook her head and looked around again.

“Dustin!” Steve screamed again and they continued their franatic search, hoping to provoke some more echoes. The rest of the gang stood in shock, but after listening in for a few moments, they realized they could hear him too. They joined in with the screams and the searching.

“Will found a way.” Nancy suddenly mumbled, making everyone turn at her.

“He found a way to speak to Joyce through lights!” she continued as she ran around the place, trying switches to see if anything works.

“Guys?”

Steve’s voice echoed through the kitchen as he pointed the flashlight at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Maia joined him, staring at the object with morbid curiosity.

“You seeing this?”

The chandelier was softly pulsing with warm orange light, glowing with ethereal sparkles of energy that were fluttering around the lightbulbs.

She carefully approached it, slowly raising her fingers towards the light. As soon as her skin touched the sparkles, they seemed to light up even more, following her movement as she waved her hand through it. It felt like a feather tickling her fingertips, sending the sensation through her arm as it pulsed out more light. The rest of the group followed her footsteps, reaching into the light one by one.

“It…tickles.” Steve whispered, face scrunched in confusion and awe.

“It kinda feels good.” Robin softly chuckled and Eddie nodded, smiling widely. He looked at Maia, who’s eyes were still glued to the chandelier, the sparkles mirrored in her big eyes.

“Does anyone know morse code?” Nancy questioned, but her idea wasn’t met with much answers. Maia just slowly shook her head, cursing herself that she never listened to her dad when he tried to teach her his scout skills.

“Um, does S.O.S. count? Is that good?” Eddie muttered and looked around as everyone turned at him. Robin shook her slowly at the dumbness of his question and Maia raised an eyebrow, slowly nodding as she narrowed her eyes.

“‘Kay…here goes nothing.” he mumbled as he reached up again, carefully tapping in rhythm.

Dot, dot, dot. Dash, dash, dash. Dot, dot, dot.

He stuck his tounge out as he tapped, his face frowned in concentration.

“Guys?”

Dustin’s muted voice echoed through the kitchen and they all sighed with relief as they raised their hands to the light, waving them around to create a big pulse. There was silence for a few moments before Dustin spoke again.

“Go to Nancy’s room and wait at the bed! I won’t repeat myself!”

“What?” Steve yelled into the air but didn’t get an answer.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

They entered Nancy’s room and sat around the bed, waiting.

“Come on, come on…” Steve muttered while holding the light to the bed, confused about what Dustin’s plan is. Suddenly, the middle of the bed softly luminesced.

Nancy reached out and waved her hand through the golden sparkles again, creating a beautiful glowing cloud that followed her fingers. Maia breathlessly chuckled, peeking at Eddie. His face was illuminated by the soft red light as the alien sparkles of energy flickered in his brown gaze, staring curiously at the beautiful strange thing in front of him. Dustin and Erica’s delighted chortles carried through the air as Nancy swirled her hand in the air.

“We’re not moving it, but we’re gonna unplug it, stand by.” Dustin exclaimed and the orange light dissapeared.

“Try it now!”

Maia rubbed Nancy’s back to encourage her as they all held their breaths in anticipation. Nancy sighed and took a second to think of what to say. She reached out her delicate index finger and moved it through the air as it sparkled again.

HI

“That worked!” Dustin’s voice carried through the walls and they all rejoiced, cheering as they could finally breathe out.

“Hi!” Eddie exclaimed, throwing his arm around Maia to pull her closer to him in excitement. She took Robin’s hand, squeezing it. A shivering breath escaped Nancy’s lips and she continued.

STUCK

“Yes, yes we are.” Robin whispered, nodding her head excitedly.

“You can’t get back through Watergate?” Dustin echoed again.

“What the hell’s Watergate?” Nancy scrunched her nose in confusion, shaking her head at the kid’s continuous antics.

“Cause it’s in water and it’s a gate.” Robin shook her head, shrugging.

“Oh, that’s cute.” Eddie mumbled and tilted his head. Nancy rolled her eyes and sighed.

GUARDED

“Okay, Watergate’s guarded?”

“Perfect. Yes.” Steve mumbled as Eddie clapped into the light.

“We think Watergate isn’t the only gate. There’s a gate at every murder site.” Dustin explained.

“Does anybody understand what he’s talking about?” Nancy’s curls bounced around as she shrugged and everyone shook their heads, confused by Dustin’s statement.

?

“Seriously? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you guys just trust me?!” he screamed into the void and Maia gasped, frowning at Dustin’s audacity.

“Jesus Christ, this kid’s gotta get his ego in check.” Steve muttered and shook his head.

“It’s his tone, right?” Eddie chimed in, narrowing his eyes. Nancy was slowly but surely losing patience and she closed her eyes for a few seconds to compose herself.

“Okay, uh, so how far is your trailer?” she turned at Eddie, who sighed.

“Seven miles.”

Maia pinched the bridge of her nose, sitting back on her heels and shaking her head.

Robin had an idea, though.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Tag list: @kik51199 @preciousbabypeter @sebby-staan @sleepysl0th03 @grungegrrrl

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fix it fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things fix it #dustin henderson #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things oc

[kusaka6e]

TUTOR

three | four | five

chapter list

———

the next day, you drive over to see your brother after your morning lectures, the cold winter air cutting through your clothes as you approach the entrance

you pull a mask over the bottom half of your face as you enter the building, thankful to be out of the cold.

"hey (l/n)! how are you?" the charge nurse waves from her desk, eyes crinkling into a smile from underneath her mask.

"hi suni, good to see you again."

you make your usual route down the hall, knocking gently when you reach the door.

"hey bub, you awake?"

"hi sissy." he paused his switch, smiling at you from his bed. you sigh, seeing the multiple bags of fluids on his iv pump.

"how come you're hooked up to so much stuff today?"

"the nurse said my platelets went down last night, so they're giving me more today." you nod, trying your best to not let any negative emotion show.

"i brought you something. the book store on campus got more in a couple days ago." you unzip your backpack and produce the next few volumes of a shounen manga your brother had been raving about.

"no way!! thank you!" he smiles brightly, wrapping his small arms around your torso. as you hug him back, you feel how much thinner he's gotten and internally sigh.

"do you like your nurses this time?"

"they're really nice! i don't remember her name, but the one from a few nights ago helped me get vending machine snacks." he's smiling brightly and talking with so much enthusiasm, you almost forget why you're there.

you stay for a couple of hours, playing games on his switch and talking to each other about schoolwork and other random things until he falls asleep.

as your packing up your things, there's a soft knock on the door.

"oh, hi (l/n)! i was just coming to check on him, you guys need anything?" one of the nurses you'd seen before whispers as she comes in

"no thank you, i'm just about to head out. can i ask you a couple questions?"

"of course." she nods away from the room, gently closing the door before facing you.

"is there any update on the waitlist thing?"

"because of his age, he's been made a priority patient on the waitlist; which is great! but, he's taking to this round of treatment fairly well. it has been tiring him out but the tumor isn't growing and there aren't any new ones."

"that's so great, thank you. and, thank everybody here from me, you all have been so wonderful."

"we're happy to help. you take care of yourself too honey, we'll see you next time." you give her a small wave before heading back to your car.

you glance up at your dashboard, cursing when you see '4:18' written on the clock. if you hurry, you'd only be a couple minutes late.

at 4:29 you fly into a parking space, throwing your car into park as you sling your backpack over your shoulder.

thankfully, baji is sitting at the same table you two were at yesterday, so it's not hard to find him once you enter the library.

"what was that you said yesterday about making an entrance?"

you glare at baji as you pull your notebook and a stack of paper from your backpack, brushing your hair out of your eyes. his hair is pulled into a bun, some baby hairs falling around his face.

"didn’t wanna be late." he grins, hearing the same words he said to you yesterday.

"i was looking at the notes you wrote me yesterday and i got confused."

"about?" you were greatful for baji not picking up on how stressed you were, or at least wasn't saying anything about it.

"how to get answers with this avo... ago... avor?"

"spit it out already." you giggle, his face twisted in focus.

"av... avocado's number. i don't know how to use it."

"avogadro's number. let me see the problems."

he noticed you looked stressed, different from your usual collected demeanor. given, this was only the second day he'd actually spent time with you. but, whenever he saw you with mikey or on campus, you always came off unbothered and put together.

"okay, we're gonna do some practice problems. you gotta know this to be good at stoichometry."

"stoich-y what?! i thought this was chemistry!"

"stoichometry is a part of chemistry, dipshit. it's just a fancy way to say dimensional analysis."

"that already sounds fancy, don't make it even more complicated."

"shut up and do the problem."

just like the day before, it takes him awhile, but all the problems get done without any mistakes after a number of tries and a multitude of questions.

"no celebration routine today?"

"not until i don't need your help with anything, remember?" he doesn't look up from having his head tossed back in exhaustion, long eyelashes fanning towards his eyebrows. you let out a small smile, surprised he remembered what you said.

am i blushing ?? ew

"well we've got a ways to go, but you're not doing too terrible."

"wow, thanks for the encouragement." he chuckles, lifting his head to look at you.

"i've gotta go but i'll see you next time, text me when you wanna meet up again."

"bye (l/n)." his eyes stay on you as you exit the library, sighing.

....

"what's got you quiet?" chifuyu raised an eyebrow at baji, lighting the joint in his hand.

"grades. chemistry sucks."

"how's that tutor mikey found for you?" he notices baji tense, smirking.

"she's really smart."

"and...?"

"and what?"

"is she hot?"

baji's lack of an answer makes matsuno laugh, letting a puff of smoke exit his lips.

"so, when are you gonna ask her out?"

"dude!"

"you're not? why don't you give me her number then?"

"i'm not giving you her number!" baji glares at him, jealously kicking in before he can try to keep it under wraps.

"i'm just fucking with you, i'm not gonna mess with her."

"it's not like she'd hang out with me other than tutoring."

"what makes you say that?"

"because she's so like.... together . she never seems stressed or mad, or sad, or anything."

"so? mitsuya comes off that way too, look how quick he is to knock someone out. i don't think you know her well enough to say that yet."

baji sighs, holding his hand out to chifuyu and taking a drag from the blunt.

"i guess it can't hurt to try, right?"

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x y/n #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu #baji fanfic #baji fic #baji x reader #keisuke baji #baji #baji keisuke

[elexuscal]

1/4 This has gotta be in four asks but this is for the DVD commentary, from Re-Initialization: It's strange being able to wander around, go wherever I want, without anyone looking at me strangely or telling me to stop. I can pause and appreciate all the artistic and historical displays we'd passed during the day, and take the time to savour them. After 2.4 hours of this, I find one of the station's public parks and sit down on one of the benches.

(cont) The flora is kind of nice, greens and blues and pinks. My human breathing code seems to be useful for taking in their scents, and I let myself enjoy that while I play an episode of the animated adventure serial I started earlier. I’m a couple of episodes in when I feel something huge brush against me in the feed. It’s just a ping. I ping back, curious.

And in response, it’s no longer just a brush, but a presence, thick and heavy, on all sides, encompassing my walls like a wave, and it is very clear that if this being tried, it could dissolve that wall in seconds. SecUnit, it intones, the word drowning out the rest of my awareness. They rescued you. There’s only one being this could be. The asshole research transport. The Perihelion.

I should be terrified. It is, objectively, terrifying. My risk assessment module is going crazy. Three was being completely and absolutely accurate when she described this thing. In terms of processing power, if I was a stage light, it would be a star. But stars are warm and bright, and I realise I’m not scared at all.

=======

😭😭😭😭

Okay honestly, I'm so touched that you picked this particular section for the ask meme, because honestly, this is one of my favourite bits I've written in a long time?

Basically, there were a few things I was trying to achieve here:

The first two chapters of Re-Initialization are extremely beige prose. Like, that's the entire point of them. Dialogue is written as a transcript, and descriptions of actions are very bare, the writing is technical. All of it to show just how much of Murderbot's self has been stripped from it, to leave its usually bright internal voice so dull and clinical But this is the chapter where it finally starts to get a hold of itself! It writes in first person again, starts using normal dialogue tags. Between its partially recovered memories and re-discovering its love for media, its bootstrapping its own voice, experimenting with rhetorical devices and metaphor and those other linguistic tricks

And honestly, this bit is sappy for Murderbot. It usually runs away from confronting emotions, even (especially) these big positive emotions as quick as it can. But it's still not quite back to normal, and a little more willing to be honest and vulnerable to itself.

(Also to be frank the first draft of this was even SAPPIER and I had to tone it down considerably)

When writing this, I contemplated having Murderbot be scared of ART. But to be honest, I'd already written a different MBD memory loss fic where that happened, and while it was a blast, I wanted to try a different angle.

And more like... circling back to Murderbot hiding from its emotions... Every time its met ART in canon (thus far), its been scared. It was scared when they were first introduced. It was scared when ART's body showed up to attack the Preservation ship. It was scared and angry when it recovered the real ART's kernel. So I just wanted a chance for them to have a reunion that wasn't driven by fear, or anger, or panic. Just the lovely, warm bond the two of them share.

#ahahaha this was so self-indulgant to talk about but i had fun thank you #murderbot #fanfic #<3

[luvvvvangelssssstories]

What's Luvvv?

~ Chapter 7 ~

TW: Cussing, and n word (thats it boo)

Written by ~ ME (with the support of my bsfs TJ, Krissy, Andy, Yuri, and Kevo)

While he's babysitting his sisters alone I get into the shower. I just fucking had sex. That's the only thing in my mind right now. When I get out I realize I don't have any clothes. I call Deandre on my phone and he picks up.

D: "Whatcha need"

A: "Some clothes. I ain got no clean ones."

D: "Aight one second."

He comes to the bathroom door and leaves his hoodie and some clean leggings on a hanger. When I get the clothes on and put vaseline on my face and body I walk to the living room with him and his sisters. "Why do you even have leggings? You tryna fit ya fat ass in some?" he gently slaps my arm while holding his baby sister, "Nah Jus wanted to see your thic ass in some." he bounces his baby sister as she whines and his other 2 sisters run around the house, giggling. "What's all their names?" I ask while holding his sisters bottle in my lap. "This little one is Dior" he says while bouncing his baby sister. "Uh the one with the jumbo braids is Dalila. And the noisy one with the curly ponytail is Diamond." I smile and take Dior out of his arms. "Hiiii Diorrrr, Hiiii! Aweee your even better that the actual product babyyy" I say in my baby talk voice and she giggles. I tickle, hug, and play with her. She squirms and make a noise as if she's straining "Uhm..Here have your sister back babe." I give him back Dior and he glares at me, "Thats a nigga fa you. Only gone hold and look at tha baby but when they gotta be responsible they dip." I side eye him, "Your describing every dad that left to get the milk." he rolls his eyes but then Dalila runs over and gives a shy look while holding a baby doll up towards me "Can you braid her hair please..?" I smile and take the doll and comb. When she tries to walk off I snap and call her back "Lil girl come back ova here. I'ma teach ya how to braid." she sits down on the couch next to me and she watches me braid, when I tell her to practice herself she calmly braids the rest of the dolls hair. Deandre leans over to me and whispers "Try calmin down Diamonds energenic ass. I pray fa you baby. If you can calm her down we can go for round two" he smirks and kisses my cheek. "Boy you just nasty." I go to Diamond and see her playing with some edge control "You wanna do ya edges or sum?" I say while leaning on her doorframe "Pfft no. Just wanna see how much can chunk ya hair up." I roll my eyes because I know I'ma deal with some shit. "Do it on ya sisters babydoll. It'll piss her off and you can do ya dirt." she nods her as if shes thinking and takes one of her sisters babydoll, cuts some of the hair off and puts edge control on it. "Wanna watch a movie with us?" I say and she crosses her arms "Hell yea!" I side eyed her "Lil girl! You may not be my sister but you should watch ya languege." She nods and I hold baby Dior again while putting it on Encanto. "Babe y'know what I just realized? All ya sisters and ya self has the letter D as ya first name." he throws a peice of popcorn towards me and I catch it. His sisters fall asleep and he puts Dior in her crib. "Soo...Earlier..That was uhm. Intense?" He looks towards me and I tease "Awee was that too much for you?" he flips me off "Shi by the way you were screaming and deadass was finna get off to my fingers I'd think that shit was intense for you." I roll my eyes and get all up in his face "Oh fuck you." He gets closer to the part he's almost touching my lips "I would say 'Fuck you' but I kinda already did..." He says and he kisses my lips passionatly before his sister Diamond wakes up and gags "That's nasty." and she walks to her room. "Lemme put Dalila in her room ok?" he says and he kisses me one more time before walking away to carry his sister upstairs. When he comes back I climb into his lap. "Aiyanna?"

"yeah?" He hugs me tight, "Thank you for choosing me." I cock my head "Whatcha mean?" he lays his hands on my lap "cus hella dudes like you more. Richer dudes, hotter dudes, y'know? ones that can spoil you." I smile "But you forgot somethings. Sweet, nice but rude, funny, warm and you spoil me babe. A lot." he rolls his eyes. "I don't spoil you enough." he smiles and we continue watching Encanto until I fall asleep. When i fall asleep I feel him gently rubbing my back.

When I wake up I see him sitting on the edge, watching tv. "Aiyanna. I need to talk to you about something..."

PART 8??? WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXTTT????

#black love #high school #black romance #fem x male #what do i even tag this as #i dont know what to tag this #high school love #romance #black female writers #highschool love

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Shield

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 5595

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, John Walker, Emotions, Character Death, Mentions of Blood, I know people had a hard time with that last scene so please take caution because it is in this part! GIF at end is the ending scene, so be careful when you get towards the bottom! I feel like I’m forgetting some, so just know this one’s a bit more than the others.

A/N: Here it is, folks! The Part we’ve all been waiting for! It’s the longest one I’ve written so far but so much happened and I couldn’t find a better spot to end it than where the episode ended. Thank you all for being patient with me today. I know I didn’t get this out as quickly as I would’ve the past few weeks, but you guys are so awesome! Seriously! I love that you understand I do have a life and work comes first! Thank you, thank you!

This Part is a doozy, guys, and…I’m sorry? But not really. I’m SUPER excited to see where this is gonna go, especially considering Episode 5 is supposed to be the real tear jerker. I can’t believe there’s only two more episodes! I’ve grown so attached to these characters just in the past month! I’m so glad I’m able to share some of my thoughts and feelings with you guys, too! You’re honestly the best!

I’ll be doing more One Shots this week, so look for those on the Masterlist. I’m still taking requests for them, so if there’s anything you want explored about the reader and her relationships that you don’t think will be explored in this Series, just ask and I’ll try to add it to the One Shot list.

As always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading, be kind to yourself and others, enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

(I couldn’t decide on which GIF to use because there are so many good ones! Thank you Tumblr Creators!)

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“Doll…hey. Doll. C’mon, sweetheart. We gotta get moving.”

You cracked your eyes open begrudgingly, squinting up to see Bucky’s amused grin, head tilted and eyes soft. “Huh?”

He chuckled as you rubbed your eyes, confusion lifting an eyebrow. “The funeral. Zemo said we’ve gotta go if we’re gonna make it in time.”

“Wait, but…huh?”

Sniggering again at your reaction, he held up your phone. “You passed out in the middle of a chapter, sleepyhead.” He teased lightly, grabbing your hand and gently pulling you to sit upright. “It’s almost been an hour.”

You huffed tiredly, stretching and placing your feet on the floor, taking back the phone he held out to you. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You haven’t been sleeping well.” He stated, like it should’ve been obvious. “How’s your arm feeling?”

“Better than earlier. It’s just sore. That’s all.”

He studied your features for any hint of a lie. Not finding one, he nodded, holding out his hand. “Okay. But tell me if it starts bothering you.”

You placed your hand in his, marveling for a split second at how big his hands were compared to yours - something you noticed every time but still it never ceased to astound you. He tugged you up, and you looked up to meet his worried eyes, remembering his question.

“I will, Buck. Promise.”

He nodded, tilting his head towards the door. “C’mon, cuddle bug. We don’t wanna miss this.”

A groan passed your lips, but you nodded and followed Bucky out into the main room, where Sam chuckled at you from his spot at the table. “Sleeping beauty has finally awoken.”

You flipped Sam off groggily. “Are we going or not?”

“Do you wanna wake up s’more first?”

“No.” You answered the one armed brunette. “I’ll just splash some water on my face or something. I’ll be fine by the time we get there. Where’s-”

“Looking for me?”

Zemo strolled out, now dressed in that coat of his, that smug smirk on his lips. You scowled. “I wish I wasn’t.”

Sam stood up, standing subconsciously between you and Zemo. “Let’s head out.”

You nodded in agreement, shooting the Baron one more glare, before following him out the door and into the city, Bucky right besides you, shoulders brushing as if you weren’t ignoring him just hours prior.

The walk was mostly silent, a few jests between Bucky and Sam plus a couple comments from Zemo here and there. You talked about strategy, with Sam bringing up the fact that he wanted to try convincing Karli to step down. Zemo didn’t look pleased with the arrangement, but both you and Bucky relented, agreeing to let Sam at least try.

It wasn’t until you were close to your destination according to Zemo that anything exciting happened.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!”

Hell. No. 

The moment the voice registered in your brain, your jaw tightened, your teeth starting to grind together as you held back the very not nice things you wanted to say. 

“Ah! How’d you find us now?” Bucky called out, tucking you into his side protectively, and a little possessively you noted, as Walker and Hoskins came down the steps, the two groups nearing each other.

You were relieved when the subject of Zemo escaping jail went by relatively quickly, Walker latching onto the fact that you were going to talk to Karli instead of focusing on the escaped fugitive in front of him.

You very nearly punched him when he ran in front of you after Sam told him the plan, making the four of you stop in your tracks, but Bucky’s arm tightened around your shoulders, holding you in place next to him.

“You’re gonna let him do this?” Walker questioned Bucky in disbelief, self righteous judgement practically dripping from your tone. “You’re gonna let your partner walk into a room with a super soldier alone?”

Bucky’s jaw ticked. “He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.”

“And you?” Walker narrowed his eyes towards you. “I expected more from you; the last original Avenger.”

You snorted, shaking your head. He obviously didn’t know how chaotic the Avengers were. What Sam was proposing? You’d seen it a million times with Steve alone. Not considering Nat, Clint, Thor, even Bruce and Tony. All of them willing to try to negotiate before running in, bullets raining and hell rising. “First, I’m not the last original. I’m technically not even an original. Second, I trust Sam with my life and I’m standing by his decision. He’s my brother. As a soldier, I would’ve thought you understood that.”

Before he could respond, Sam stepped around Bucky. You saw the reluctance in Walker’s eyes as he admitted a temporary defeat once Hoskins agreed with Sam. The fact that he was so unwilling to try to save more lives - including Karli’s - made the truth that he wasn’t, and would never, be your Captain harden deeper into your heart.

Ignoring Walker’s confusion as you followed the little girl Zemo befriended - which was weird, you’d admit, but it was getting you closer to Karli - Bucky’s arm slipped from your shoulders, hand sliding across your back and skimming down your arm to grip your hand. Even through your jacket, you felt goosebumps erupt along his fingers’ trail.

You finally came to your destination and you let out a small breath. If everything went smoothly, this mission could finally be over and you could go home and take a bath, get take out, get out a bottle of wine, watch TV, and just relax.

What a dream.

“Hey.” You stopped Sam before he could go through the entrance of where the girl said Karli was, holding his forearm. “You want me to come with you?”

He shook his head. “I think it’ll be better if I go alone.”

You nodded, letting go without any hesitance. “Okay. Be careful.”

“Always.” And despite all you’ve been through, no matter how many times he’s followed Steve’s lead in doing something stupid, you knew he meant it. You nodded again, before he disappeared around the corner.

You leaned back against the wall, Bucky once again wrapping an arm around your shoulder now that you weren’t walking - he liked having mobility on the move, hence the reason he held your hand instead - leaning besides you and pulling you against his chest.

Ten minutes. You tried looking at Bucky’s watch, which was on the wrist of the arm around you. He noticed and turned his wrist slightly, bending his elbow more, which brought you even closer to him, showing you the time.

Giving a small sigh, you nodded slightly and dropped your head back against his bicep, your hands shoving in your pockets, one of your feet coming up to rest against the wall. Bucky shifted to your other side so he could stand in front of the doors to where Karli and Sam were, pulling you against his back, arms wrapping around your shoulders tightly.

It was a long ten minutes. You kept eyeing Walker, and you couldn’t help the anger burning through you as he held the shield in his hands. That damn shield. It wasn’t his. It would never be his. And he would never understand it. The fact that the shield didn’t make Captain America. The shield isn’t what made Steve a good man. Not even the Serum did. He already was one. Steve made the shield what it was, not the other way around.

But then you remembered a conversation you had, years ago, and your eyes flitted up to Bucky’s hardened face, the brunette staring intensely at the ground.

~

You didn’t get it. You were confused. You knew how important Barnes - Bucky - was to Steve. But apparently you didn’t understand it quite yet.

You watched from the entrance of the hallway, leaning against the wall, as Bucky went under once more.

Steve stood there for a moment longer, before turning and walking towards you. “Why’d you do it?”

He raised an eyebrow at you while you turned to walk with him down the hall. “Do what?”

“Give up the shield. And don’t say it doesn’t belong to you. It does. Howard gave it to you. You’re the reason it’s…a symbol.”

He hummed. “And what exactly is it a symbol for, honey?”

You scoffed. “Uh, freedom? Justice? Resilience? The defense of the whole life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness thing?”

He stopped, facing you with a strange expression on his face, thoughtful. “I dropped it because I can’t be that anymore. Not right now. People don’t have the same beliefs they used to have. How can I stand up for freedom and let the Sokovia Accords track every person they deem a threat, just like HYDRA tried doing? How can I be a symbol for justice and let Bucky take the fall for something that he wasn’t in control of? I can’t. And until the world is ready to change…I can’t be Captain America.”

~

And suddenly, it seemed to click. Steve gave up the shield for Bucky because the world wasn’t ready to admit it was wrong. Just like Sam gave up the shield for himself and his family because the world wasn’t ready for the truth that would come with him becoming Captain America.

God…when did a metal circle become so complicated?

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty lil’ head’a yours?” His whisper in your ear startled you out of your thoughts, his nose brushing against your temple tenderly as he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek.

You looked up at him and shook your head. Of all the things Steve gave up, he never gave up Bucky. And it used to confuse you, but you understood then. His blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and slight concern, his fingers tracing patterns along your collarbone with a barely-there touch that was so light it didn’t seem to exist. You finally understood. Not just Steve’s decision, but Sam’s too. And maybe you didn’t understand it fully, and that was okay, because you weren’t them, so you never would, but you understood a little bit.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, keeping your voice down so the others couldn’t hear, the conversation being a private one, “I’m just waiting for this to be over.”

He hummed, nodding in agreement, setting his chin on your head. “Me too.”

Walker started pacing the room about half way through, getting too antsy for your liking. “Shhh.” Bucky mumbled under his breath, feeling you tense as Walker started talking. “It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.” Bucky stated confidently, straightening slightly from his leaning position, arms falling from your form. The two of you exchanged glances as Walker checked the clock over on the far wall, blocked from your view.

“I’m going in.” Walker strode across the room, heading for the entrance, no doubt willing to steam roll anything - anyone - in his way.

Bucky stopped him with a hand on his chest. You glanced back and forth between the two as Walker spoke, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Buck…we promised him ten minutes.” You reminded him, seeing his resolve crumble a bit. You could guess he was thinking of the nightmares. The people he couldn’t save. The blood he already considered on his hands.

Walker used his moment of hesitation, shoving past him roughly. “I’m not waiting.”

“John!”

“Walker!”

You followed after him, you and Bucky arguing with him and Hoskins about giving Sam more time, but it was too late.

“Karli Morgenthau! You’re under arrest!”

“Fuck.” You hissed out when you saw Sam’s panicked expression, looking at you confused. Walker was flown across the room when Karli punched him, Bucky shoving Hoskins out of the way to run after her.

“Y/N-”

You threw your hands up. “I tried, Sam! C’mon!”

You and Sam ran over to some stairs, turning corners and trying to remember what the building looked like from outside to cut her off, but you only ran into Bucky again. 

“I wish we had the layout or something.” You grumbled. “We were that close-”

“We’re not done yet, doll.” Nodding, you followed the boys out, Bucky pausing every so often to try to hear anything. “I’ve got gunshots.” At that, the three of you took off towards the sound, Bucky leading the way.

Just around the corner from where Bucky heard the gunshots, you thought you saw a couple people slip around another bend. Noticing you had stopped, Bucky backtracked. “You okay?’

“Yeah.” Deciding it wasn’t worth the pursuit, you turned to him and nodded towards the doorway Sam already went through. He gave you a look, but nodded and the two of you jogged into the room.

You sighed heavily, seeing Zemo knocked out on the floor, Walker standing over him and broken vials that were previously full of, what you assumed was, the Serum. Hoskins ran in right after you, meaning no one but Walker and Zemo knew what happened. Meaning you would probably never get the full, true story.

What fun it is to work with manipulators and liars.

********************

“I don’t like him.” Bucky grumbled, the two of you walking up to the place you were staying in, Bucky holding the door open for you.

“I know you don’t, Buck. I don’t either.” You had asked Bucky to go with you to get some fresh air once you got back, Zemo having woken up a few minutes after and Walker and Hoskins had to make a call or something official like the good soldiers they were. “He’s hiding something.”

“You think?” Bucky scoffed, giving you a look.

You rolled your eyes. “I mean…I don’t know. When we found him and Zemo…my gut twisted.”

He nodded in understanding, his face twisting into a scowl. “Yeah. Mine did too.”

You stopped him before you could walk through the door to the main room. “Do me a favor?” He nodded again with a little hum. Catching his chin between your fingers, your free hand moved to smooth out the creases between his brow. “Stop brooding so much. It makes me worried.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, features softening slightly. “Are you really gonna leave in the morning? I know you’ve had a lot of people telling you to take a break, and it’s selfish for me to ask you to stay, but…I dunno if I can finish this without you.”

“I-” You sighed, ducking your head as you thought of a response, before looking up in his wide eyes, begging for you to stick around longer. “Let’s just finish the day and see what happens next. Okay?”

He bit his lip, nodding slightly. You gave him a smile, before tugging on his hand. “I need a drink.”

He chuckled at that. “That I can fix, doll.” He, again, opened the door for you, and the two of you walked in.

“What a gentleman. Straight outta the 40’s.” You joked, making him roll his eyes.

He took off his jacket, heading to the kitchen, while you sat on the opposite side of the island. “Somethin’s not right about Walker.”

Sam gave you two an amused look. “You don’t say.”

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one.” He opened the lid of the bottle he grabbed, starting to pour two glasses of whiskey for the both of you. “Because I am crazy.”

You rolled your eyes as Sam responded, “can’t argue with that.”

“You shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

Giving Bucky a disapproving look over the rim of your glass, you sipped your drink, narrowing your eyes when he ignored you. “I didn’t give him the shield.”

“Well Steve definitely didn’t.”

Your glass slammed down on the counter. Why did he have to bring this up right now? Seriously? You were just having a nice conversation about places you wanted to visit while taking a walk outside. Why was he suddenly snapping?

Before you could scold him, the doors burst open, making your head whip over as Walker stormed in, “ordering” you to hand over Zemo.

You stayed sitting, leaning on the counter and facing the opposite wall as Sam told him off, giving an amused snicker as you sipped your drink. Bucky sat besides you, facing Walker, and you recognized from the angle he was positioning himself that he was blocking you from Walker’s view, whether intentional or not.

You raised an eyebrow, turning in interest when Walker put down the shield, knowing Sam wasn’t about to fight the man. What an ego the blonde had.

Before anything could happen, however, a spear pierced through the air, lodging in the pillar next to Walker’s head.

Your frustration with Bucky’s comment flew out of your head as Ayo and a few other Dora Milaje walked in. Bucky sat up straighter and you stood up, leaning ever so slightly against his arm.

You nearly facepalmed, a sound of complete disbelief leaving you as Walker introduced himself. Sam looked over at you two, an entertained, slightly incredulous smile on his face.

Sam tried warning him. He really did. But Walker, you’ve come to find, was an arrogant, egotistical narcissist who only wanted to win and would do whatever it takes to do so. Even when there wasn’t really a winner. At least, not in that situation. It seemed that Walker liked ignoring the gray area in the world, which wasn’t good. Not in the least.

Which is why you couldn’t really feel sorry for the man. You saw it coming as soon as he told them they didn’t have jurisdiction. And the moment he touched Ayo?

You put your chin on Bucky’s shoulder - who had stood up from his spot - watching the Dora Milaje kick Walker’s ass, wincing and cringing mockingly at the right moments, making Bucky smirk at you.

“We should do something.” Sam said, although he didn’t look thrilled about the prospect.

Bucky crossed his arms. “Looking strong, John!”

You gave a slight snort, not wanting to encourage anything, but unable to hold in your amusement. Bucky winked at you, clinking his cup of whiskey with your own, before taking a gulp.

“Bucky.” 

You huffed and stepped back at Sam’s tone. “C’mon, Buck.”

“Fine.” Bucky grunted. “But ‘M not happy about it.”

Soon, the three of you, plus Walker and Hoskins, were all occupied with a member of the Dora Milaje. You knew you couldn’t take them; they were on a higher level that Natasha, and you could barely beat her. But you weren’t necessarily trying to win.

It was a strange fight, knowing that no one - except Walker, probably - actually wanted to hurt anyone. Of course, that didn’t stop one of them from exploiting your injured shoulder that she spotted rather quickly. The hits were quick and precise, the tip of her spear cutting along the graze, hitting the spot just perfect enough to reopen it. The stitches that had been placed only a couple days ago ripped, making you wince and clutch your now bleeding shoulder.

“Oh fuck.” You groaned. “You were always good with those things.”

She gave you an almost apologetic look, before she looked over to Ayo, who stepped through the room towards the bathroom where Zemo had locked himself in during the chaos.

When you caught sight of the shoulder thing she did to Bucky, his metallic arm now laying on the floor, his eyes wide and his stance stunned, your jaw nearly dropped. You guessed it made sense that they had a way to do that, but, still. None of you were expecting it.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked once they started leaving, Bucky picking up his arm and connecting it to his shoulder.

“No.” The arm whirred as he swung it, getting it back to normal.

You couldn’t help the little giggle that left you, making Bucky raise an eyebrow at you. You tried holding in more laughs, but they just kept coming. “She-she...she disarmed you!”

Bucky rolled his eyes as you chortled, holding your stomach and bending over. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Oh come on!” You straightened and wiped your eyes. “That was good! Wasn’t it, Sammy?”

Sammy chuckled and nodded. “I’ll admit, it was pretty good. This, however, is not.”

Your laughter died as Sam made his way over to the bathroom, the light air that came with your cackles dissipating as quickly as it came.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.”

You stared at the drain that was uncovered - large enough for Zemo to slip inside and escape. He did it. The son of a bitch finally did it. It took him long enough. You would’ve betted against him days ago.

“I can.” Bucky turned and grabbed your hand. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

*********************

“I thought you told them.”

Bucky looked up from wrapping your shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“I thought you told them. The Dora Milaje. Wakanda. T’Challa. I thought you told them about Zemo.”

He leaned back with a sigh. “It was kinda a last minute decision. You know that. You were there.”

You nodded. “I do. But I also know what they’ve done for you. Shuri and Ayo. I was there for that, too. And you know what he did to them. To their country. Their king.”

“I know, I know. I almost died several times because of it.”

Your eyebrows pinched in confusion. “So why-”

“I thought it’d be quick. I thought, maybe, I could do it without them finding out and then we could get to Karli and they wouldn’t be disappointed. Win win.”

Your cheek caught between your teeth as you thought. “You could’ve just asked-”

He shook his head. “They would’ve said no. You know that.”

“Okay. Fine. Yes. I know that. But…but giving them a warning would’ve been better than this.” He hung his head, closing his eyes. “Bucky. Hey,” hooking a finger under his chin, you tilted his head back up to look at you. “I know it’s been hard for you. Everything has. And I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I shouldn’t have let you come along. You should be healing, and it’s my fault you’re not.” He opened his mouth, face scrunching up in disagreement, but you shook your head. “It’s true. I just…I didn’t know it would come this far.” You gnawed on your bottom lip studying those captivating eyes, before sighing. “Which is why I’m not leaving.”

He perked up, those pretty eyes going wide, jaw slackening. “You-you’re not?!”

You shook your head. As much as you wanted to run away, you couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. “It wouldn’t be fair to you or Sam. I promised to help, and I brought you into it. So I’m gonna stay.

“Are you, uh…are you sure? You don’t hafta if you don’t wanna, doll. I know I kinda pushed you earlier, but-”

“I’m sure Buck.” You nodded firmly. “Just…do something for me?”

“I dunno if I can promise not brooding, sweetheart.”

You giggled at his words. “Not that. Just…stop giving Sam a hard time. About the shield. Please.”

His soft features hardened and he scowled. “If he didn’t give it up-”

“He thought it was going to the museum. I told you about that, remember? I told you we’d go when I got back.”

Giving a slight nod, he sighed. “We never did.”

“We will. But, I’m serious, Buck. Please. It’s not his fault. He did exactly what Steve did.” At Bucky’s confused look, you pursed your lips, looking down at his hands, starting to play with his fingers. “Remember how I was thinking during those ten minutes we had?” He nodded. “I was thinking about how Steve gave the shield back to Tony. After saving you. In Siberia. You remember that?” Another nod was given, so you continued. “It was for you, James. Because you made him realize that he didn’t want to be the face of a country that preached one thing, but did another. And that’s what Sam did. He did it for his family. For himself. Because no one wants to fight for a country that goes against your personal beliefs, no matter what they say.”

“I-I don’t understand.” Bucky’s eyes squinted, his brow creasing as he tried processing what you were telling him.

“That’s okay. Not everyone will. Really only they can understand their own reasoning. But you have to try to understand that he did what he thought was best for himself. For Steve. For the shield. And I know - dammit do I know - that it’s the last thing left of him. But it is just metal. Isn’t it? Steve’s the reason it is what it is. No one else. And no one is going to change that.”

Bucky took a breath, glossy, worried eyes meeting yours. “Walker’s going to ruin it. I know he is. I can feel it. Everything Steve worked for. I don’t care about Captain America. I care about the kid from Brooklyn who wanted to make a difference, no matter how little he was. I trusted him. I followed him through bullets and blood, with only that shield between us and them. He was home on a battlefield in Italy across the ocean from New York. And that shield was the welcome mat. It doesn’t matter what it says, what it looks like…but it protected my home when I couldn’t. But now? I feel like it’s tearing my home down. Pulling out the bricks. And it hurts. It was never about the shield, Y/N. It was always about the man it protected when I couldn’t be there for him. And now?”

Gathering him in your arms as he trailed off, you gave a couple little sniffles, pressing your face in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck lightly. “I’ll be your welcome mat, Buckaroo.” You offered.

He shook his head, pulling away to hold your face between his hands. “No, sweetheart. You’re not the welcome mat. You’re the new bricks replacing the old. You’re…you’re my home, now, doll.”

You swallowed thickly, unable to handle the rush of emotions that just poured through you, the sudden change in topic making you feel more vulnerable than you’d like. You leaned forwards, placing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, feeling him go lax in your arms. “And you’re mine.” You murmured softly, before getting up and heading out for the room, unable to stay any longer. You still had a mission to do. One that became even more desperate with Zemo loose, Walker unhinged, and Karli being so close.

******************

There was a silent agreement to not bring up your conversation. Not yet, at least. Sam had eyed you both when you came out of the room, saying you were ready to get moving, but he didn’t say anything either.

None of you really knew where you were going, only what you had to do. Find Zemo and get to Karli before Walker could. Both of which were a lot easier said than done.

Until Sam got a call from Sarah, who told him Karli contacted her personally and threatened her and her sons. She left a contact number for Sam, evidently wanting to meet. His phone dinged not a minute after he texted the number.

“She said come alone.”

“Well that’s not happening.” You opposed, crossing your arms.

Bucky nodded with your sentence. “We’re coming with you.”

Sam didn’t say anything against it, the three of you exchanging glances, before heading out to the location, changing into your tactical suits along the way.

Karli didn’t seem to mind you and Bucky tagging along, and you understood why the moment she mentioned not killing Sam because he wasn’t hiding behind a shield. It was a distraction. They were going after Walker.

It was confirmed only moments later when Sharon contacted Sam. “Looks like he found them, or maybe they found him.”

As soon as Sam announced that it was Walker, you jumped into action, Sam disabling Karli for just the right amount of time for you to get a head start. “I’ll send you the location. Go.” He told Bucky, who nodded and took off in his super soldier sprint. “You hitching a ride?”

You rolled your eyes at his slight tease. “I hate this so much.” You grumbled, catching his hand as he took off in the air with his bird costume. He held onto you tightly, like the millions of times you’d done this before, although it didn’t make you any less dizzy, traveling that fast, that high, with only his hold keeping you from dropping. “You’re lucky I trust you so much!”

He gave a small chuckle at your shout over the wind. “We’re landing! Brace yourself!” You followed his order, just in time for him to break through the glass ceiling of the building Walker was in. The both of you landed on a platform on the staircase just as a Flag Smasher was thrown through double glass doors, down the stairs, and into a power box. Your eyes went wide as Walker strolled down the steps, oozing a confidence that made you nervous. The moment Walker stopped the Flag Smasher - the Super Soldier - from hitting him with the pipe, you knew even before he twisted it like a pretzel.

“Sam.” You breathed out. You couldn’t even do anything, only watching as the Flag Smasher got up from being thrown again, and running down a hall.

“What’d you do?”

“They got Lemar.” Was the only reply he gave, brushing past you and Sam. You gave Sam a look, but he just jerked his head down the hall, in the direction the Flag Smasher went and the way Walker started heading. You nodded, willing to drop it for now to save someone’s life, but you were so bringing it up once this was done.

Jogging into the room, you should’ve expected the ambush in the room, but, to be honest, they didn’t take as much advantage as they could’ve, so it wasn’t too difficult of a fight. You had trained with Steve millions of times before, so you knew how to go against a Super Soldier. Granted, your Cap wasn’t trying to kill you while training, but it was better than nothing.

You protected your shoulder, knowing that was your weak point, while trying to disguise it so whoever you were fighting wouldn’t realize your Achilles’ Heel. Something you often found while dealing with Steve, and even Bucky, was that Super Soldiers, as quick as they were, tended to favor the super strength side of their enhancements. This made it easier for you to dodge the attacks, knowing most of your blows wouldn’t do much.

Knowing you wouldn’t be able to stay on the defensive for long, you decided to try to get an advantage over them. Disarming them and taking their knife was easy enough. A small advantage, yeah, but now you had a weapon, and you could work with that.

You weren’t exactly sure when Bucky joined the fight, but he did, immediately coming over to you when you body kicked your opponent, helping you up. “That was a Steve move.” Your eyes caught sight of the Flag Smasher behind him and you shoved his shoulder down, throwing your knife, making it land solidly in the man’s shoulder. Bucky looked up at you from his crouch, impressed. “And that was a me move.”

You shrugged. “I’m a visual learner.”

You, Sam, and Bucky were about to go for another round with the guys when a sickening crack sounded behind you, and you whipped around. 

Hoskins was against a split pillar, a crimson streak running down his forehead, head lolling to the side, lips red and cracked. The fight stopped as Walker rushed over to his friend, but you knew there was no way he survived. A punch from a Super Soldier? That hard?

Eyeing the Flag Smashers, you turned to Sam and Bucky when they started dispersing, Karli running out as well. They nodded towards you and the three of you took off after her, not wanting to let her get away again and, for you, at least, wanting to give Walker some time.

You weren’t expecting his grief to turn into such raw hatred. 

Running up to the city square, you didn’t actually see it happen. Just the aftermath. Which was good, considering you nearly threw up just seeing that.

You heard the change in Bucky’s breathing, barely recognizing the way he stepped in front of you, only realizing you stepped closer when you felt his sleeve against your palms, fingers tightly wrapped around his forearm. A choked sound came from somewhere, but you didn’t know it was you, even as Bucky reached his arm around to hold your waist, keeping you behind his shoulder. 

Tears leaked down your face silently, eyes unable to look away as Walker straightened, sliding the shield on his arm, too nonchalantly for someone who just murdered another in front of a crowd full of people, cameras pointed towards him.

The shield. That piece of metal you had been wondering so deeply about the past couple of weeks. The link to the first person you’d ever loved. Ruined. Tarnished. Stained.

You could barely breathe, your throat clenching so tightly it was a wonder you were able to get anything out at all.

“James…”

#cjsinkythoughts #cjswriting #cjsspoilers #fatws spoilers #tfatws spoilers #falcon and the winter soldier spoilers #fatws #tfatws #falcon and the winter soldier #fatws series #fatws pt 5.2 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky barnes #❤🐦💙🦾 #💙🦾

[makeste]

BnHA 326: What’s up Kids, It’s Me, Your Old Pal Stain

Previously on BnHA: Ochako shamed the U.A. Clown Mob into letting Deku go back inside his own fucking school by giving them an hour-long speech about how not to be humongous dickheads. Kouta and Gigantic Fox Lady saved the manga by being the only ones brave enough to give Deku a hug. Shouto was all “man, all this togetherness sure does remind me of that promise you made that we would handle Touya together which you immediately bailed on, doesn’t it, Dad.” Aizawa was all, “for the one and a half people out there who thought that my losing an eye and a leg might actually make me less sexy, I’m very happy to prove you wrong.” All Might was all, “[standing outside the U.A. fortress alone in the rain talking to someone or something??].” Like seriously, what was up with that though.

Today on BnHA: All Might is all “here I am in Kamino having a belated mid-life crisis because Deku abandoned me and I’m a terrible mentor and everything sucks and I hate myself.” Stain is all, “don’t make me come over there and give you a ten page speech about why you’re still the goat while menacingly holding you at swordpoint the entire time” because idk if you knew this guys, but Stain is pretty crazy actually. Anyway so he does that, and then All Might gets all emotional, and then the lady from chapter 92 shows up and gives All Might’s statue an encouraging pep talk, and then Horikoshi is all “and it even stopped raining lol can you believe this shit I’m not even a little bit subtle,” and he really isn’t. But I still got emotional anyway, because seeing people reassure All Might that everything he’s struggled for his entire life hasn’t been in vain just got to me okay. Horikoshi knows I am weak to the All Might feels and he just goes for the jugular every time, that bastard.

lmao. “in the neverending downpour, All Might is...” yeah, thank you, glad we’re getting right to that then

“All Might is driving 95 mph in his busted ass car in the pouring rain, is what he’s doing.” huh

so basically a day or two after his adopted child refused to accept the handmade bento that he packed with love, my man is out here acting like he’s got nothing to live for anymore. this sure bodes well for certain prophecies on which the clock is still ominously ticking down

his fucking face though omg. is it weird that I’m kind of hoping more people ambush him just because I think it’d be funny to see them get their asses kicked like the last bunch

(ETA: or maybe he will just stand there openly not giving a fuck and basically daring them to stab him!! get it together please All Might.)

side note, “anti-hero supporters” is such a strange way of saying “people who hate heroes”, which I’m assuming is what they actually wanted to say?? this makes it sound like it’s a group that really loves antiheroes. “these Hannibal stans have been a real menace lately. time to go deal with them”

ha ha ha, fucking ouch

are you really gonna do it Horikoshi you bastard. are you really going to let that be the final encounter between the two characters whose relationship you once described as the vertical axis of the entire fucking story. are you really gonna?? huh??

huh

you’re telling me you were driving 112 mph and you still didn’t get there in time. you’re losing your touch old man. lol Todo’s ice is almost fully melted already, how late were you

(ETA: so apparently this is taking place after the end of chapter 325, meaning he went to U.A., hung out for a bit, saw the kids come back with his bedraggled half-dead protégé in tow, watched as they shamed the civilians into some long-overdue character development, and then was all “welp, time to go argue with the hero-hating faction or something because I’m feeling useless.” and Edge just let him go, just like that. though to be fair I have to imagine it’s pretty hard to say no to All Fucking Might.)

also belated lol at the fact that the kids were all “yeahhhhhhh we are definitely not gonna touch that thing, let’s just leave it here, he doesn’t need it anyway.” probably the right call to make since they couldn’t get a hazmat team on such short notice

fuck. ha ha ha fucking ouch part two

All Might please put that thing down before you get gangrene. also yeah, you dropped the ball, good for you to acknowledge it. nobody’s perfect and you did your best. but yeah you could have handled a lot of things completely differently. but I still love you

is Horikoshi really putting this flashback here. are you serious. what kind of fucking sadist

look, I swear I’m not one of those people that runs up and down the street shouting “DEATH FLAG!!” at every third panel lol. but this shit screamed Death Flag when we originally got it, and it’s screaming DEATH FLAG!!! even more now. like with the capital letters and exclamation marks and all. and that’s just a fact. I don’t like it but that’s how it is

ffkdjslk

“DID YOU READ THE SIGN??!” Horikoshi asks while zooming in maniacally because he thinks we’re blind or something. lol what

-- though actually, it only just occurred to me that this sign is actually written in English. I never really paid attention up until now and had been assuming it was written in Japanese and translated by the scanlators, but the writing here is clearly part of the original image. anyway so maybe that’s why he’s zooming in?? just to make sure everybody pays attention lol

okay fuck this

see, this is the whole problem right here. once again All Might is all on his own. Deku’s self-destructive angst spiral was fortunately brought to a grinding halt because he actually has support from his friends and family and teachers and classmates. but All Might never had that same kind of support, and it’s made all the difference between the two of them, and not in a good way. Katsuki wasn’t wrong when he said All Might and Deku were both cut from the same cloth. but now when it’s All Might’s turn to go all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD~~” once again, there’s nobody in sight

just, after forty plus years of him carrying this torch, I just wish someone would finally come along to let him know he doesn’t have to. all those things that he wanted to say to Deku are also things that he needs and deserves to hear himself. Aizawa was making a little progress there, but now he’s got his sad zombie cloud boyfriend situation to deal with, and we can’t expect him and his perfect hair to solve all our problems. someone else has gotta step up

oh my god

“you rang?” never mind I take it all back sob

omg why am I laughing. shit

this man truly has the best PR game in the series. we were truly convinced he was gonna suddenly become a good guy and defend All Might against the other villains or some nonsense. as if this wasn’t the same man who decided on a whim that Iida Tensei deserved to be paralyzed, and that his fifteen-year-old brother deserved to die for daring to be upset about it

lol even All Might is all “I genuinely never saw this coming” lmao

just want to say, for the record, I have always harbored a very sensible hatred toward Stain. feeling very vindicated right now. good job Past Me

adsfklwkfsdwgkj

ffffwefjslkg. ghsdlkg. dsfkkkslkjldwkjrg

STAIN: heard you talking shit old man

ME: smh that’s what I thought you’d say you dumb fucking Stain

STAIN: how dare you talk about All Might that way

ME: gljfljgk

(ETA: in hindsight I have no idea how I didn’t clue in sooner that he didn’t recognize him -- or, well, ~didn’t recognize~ him, to be more accurate lol. I think it was the whole “is that a slight against the heroes?” thing that threw me. Viz’s translation makes it much clearer that he’s offended on behalf of All Might specifically, not heroes in general. anyways.)

sob. so All Might is all “yeah I don’t blame you for not recognizing me in this sweet leather jacket”

good thing he still knows how to do this party trick

A+ reflexes on Stain’s part presumably pulling the sword back a few inches to keep this dumbass from impaling himself with his whole pufferfish routine. can you imagine if that was the gruesome death Nighteye foresaw. and he was just too embarrassed to say anything

lol anyways guess I was wrong about Stain everyone

way to fucking go, Past Me. you really biffed this one

oh wait

Stain sure is one wacky rollercoaster ride

oh fuck me lol I forgot how much I did not miss this

(ETA: “this here is the sacred ground where All Might gave up the last of his power and turned into a shriveled old man!! please ignore the part where I admit to knowing all about that, and yet pretend not to recognize said man when he’s standing two feet in front of me.”)

Past Me, I know we’ve had our ups and downs these past ninety seconds, but I’m really starting to think you were on to something. this dude has always been kind of insufferable. always acting like his high horse is a fucking giraffe when it’s actually a Shetland pony

dammit now he’s got All Might going off on a depressed monologue

oh my god my heart

shit

why the fuck does that hit so hard. he became a hero because he couldn’t bear to just sit back and let bad things happen to people who didn’t deserve it. I mean that’s basically the same as every hero ever, right? so why does it still hit so fucking hard every single time though. what is it about seeing someone so determined to stand up for other people and fight on their behalf. it just never loses its impact no matter how many times I see that determination mirrored in so many of my favorite characters

“I wanted to make the world a better place.” omg. but you did, though. like seriously, I feel like people are always dogging on him for not being 100% perfect, and fandom really doesn’t give him enough credit for everything he still managed to accomplish. this man came of age at a time when Japan was by all accounts a total shitshow, and singlehandedly managed to bring about an era of peace that lasted for four fucking decades. can you imagine having peace for that long?? that’s longer than I’ve been alive. shit

and he gave people hope. he inspired them and protected them and made them feel safe. and no, he couldn’t save everyone, because he’s only one fucking dude (and also because the whole time AFO was also out there desperately working to undermine him so that he could keep preaching his narrative of “heroes are bad actually”). but you know what he did do, is inspire multiple new generations of heroes who, if they can all manage to work together, will finally be able to accomplish everything he never could

so yeah. forty years of peace, and inspired the “that’s how we all became the greatest heroes” generation -- that’s a fucking win in my book. talk about having a net positive impact on the world. lol anyways now I’m all fired up and ready to fight anyone who tries to talk any shit about you, All Might

“but what if I talk shit about myself” okay listen up All Might I’m gonna need you to try just a little bit harder to work with me here okay. please calm down and stop blaming yourself for every single bad thing that’s ever happened in the world. do you remember that time Bakugou was blaming himself for Kamino, and you gave him a hug and told him it wasn’t his fault, and that he was only a boy, and that even though he was strong, even strong people can struggle with the burdens they place on themselves, and that you were sorry for not seeing that earlier? do you remember all of that? that’s what I want someone to tell you too, dammit. anyway please stop breaking my heart please and thanks

wtf

are you dead All Might

um

I don’t even have the slightest idea what’s happening lol

oh snap did he grab him so they could hide??

hold the fucking phone. don’t tell me this person in the background with the umbrella is here to actually do something decent??

oh my godddd

and here come the feels. oh boy. okay don’t mind me, I’m just gonna sit here sobbing over this fictional lady and her simple act of kindness in this weekly shounen manga that I care about way too much

FUCKING DAMMIT AND HERE’S A SECOND HELPING

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST GETTING DISPROPORTIONATELY EMOTIONAL OVER THIS WOMAN’S DETERMINATION TO HONOR A MAN WHO SACRIFICED EVERYTHING TO SAVE HER AND COUNTLESS OTHERS. I’M JUST HAVING SOME FEELS OVER HERE ABOUT HER HEARTFELT, DOESN’T-EVEN-KNOW-ANYONE-ELSE-IS-WATCHING FEELINGS OF GRATITUDE THAT COMPELLED HER TO COME OUT HERE AND MAKE THIS SMALL BUT POWERFUL GESTURE. I’M JUST OUT HERE GETTING ALL PROFOUNDLY WORKED UP ABOUT STATUE MAINTENANCE AND THE HUMAN RACE. NEVER MIND. JUST IGNORE ME AND CARRY ON

holy shit. I was not even remotely prepared. you can’t just do that to me. you can’t just leave all these death flags on my lawn and then suddenly shift gears to show me the best of humanity in a chapter where I was expecting the worst. that fucks a person up lol

OH ARE WE STILL GOING

my heart. you see that, All Might. your legacy is so much more powerful and meaningful than you think

...has. has Stain actually been giving All Might a pep talk this entire time

I give up lol. this dude is a fucking enigma

YAYYY

it may just be a metaphor panel, but I’ll take it lol. I missed them. nice to see the traffic light trio front and off-center. I know the whole “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes” thing had left some questioning whether certain characters would continue to play a central role in the narrative, and hopefully this will help to ease those concerns just a bit

anyway, so idk if it’s getting a bit chilly down there in hell, but damned if Stain didn’t just give an actual decent fucking speech

I have to say, earlier when I was whining about All Might not having a support squad, I really was not expecting Stain to be the one to come over and pat his head and reassure him that he made the world a better place

-- okay LISTEN

YOU CAN’T JUST COME INTO MY HOUSE AND HIT ME WITH THOSE ALL MIGHT TEARS AGAIN GODDAMMIT THIS ISN’T FAIR. my god. first 317 and now this

holy fucking shit

“I’m just gonna pretend like I haven’t been stalking him for two days and didn’t see the entire Deku bentogate thing go down, and then I’ll give him the whole big speech that I rehearsed, and then I’ll turn around and be all ‘BUT IF YOU’RE A TRUE HERO’, and then I’ll toss him the super-secret AFO wifi password that I stole from Tartarus. god I’m such a badass. fucking give myself chills”

so basically what you’re telling me is that this whole time my “what’s up kids” characterization of Stain from this shitpost has actually been 100% accurate. just want to make sure I’m understanding this right. okay then

“and then I’ll dramatically spin around and be all NOW COME KILL ME BITCH”

it must be so much fun to write Stain. drawing this coked-out maniac who talks like a chatbot that was trained to speak by reading Alan Moore monologues. that must be a trip

anyway so All Might is still crying, the awesome lady from chapter 92 is admiring her handiwork totally oblivious to the batshit insanity going on fifty meters to her right, and it’s finally stopped raining lol

“THE RAIN WAS A METAPHOR YOU SEE” yes, yes, we got it lol. thanks for that Horikoshi. don’t think we needed any help putting the pieces together on that one but I appreciate the effort

so that’s the end! and as I mentioned in another post, I had the count off by one chapter, but next week should be cliffhanger week! so break out your U.A. Traitor bingo cards, friends and fiends. either that or something else happens that I’m completely not expecting at all. which, based on my success rate with Stain predictions, I’d say is more than likely lol

mmm but anyway, so now that the Hug Deku 2021 campaign has finally come to an end, what’s it gonna take to get a hug for my struggling bento-preparing jacket-rocking world-weary death-flag-waving husband who is the worthiest man to ever live and deserves the fucking world, goddammit

#bnha 326 #all might #yagi toshinori #stain (bnha) #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[felix21im]

"Ice Cold", a Leon Kennedy x reader fanfiction

As an Art and Design student all you want to do is just knuckle down and finish that one goddamn piece you've been working on for months. Too bad your time is constantly stolen by your Waiter job with minimal pay, but hey, at least the tips are good if you unbutton your shirt that one more time.

Masterlist

Chapter 1: Bourbon

“That’s gotta be moved over like two inches to the left.” You muttered to yourself. Your eraser ran across the sketches and removed the pencil lines that you had created earlier. Studying interior design was one of the best ways to secure you that internship you’ve been working so hard for.

“Yoo hoo!” A whistle was heard from beside you, your fellow colleague and best friend tapped you on the shoulder, pulling you out of your study-induced trance. “You’ve got another table to serve. They literally just sat down so make sure that you greet them.” You let out a sigh, laying your latest drawing to the side. On the way to the table you check your hair in a mirror before putting on a smile. You can see two middle aged men talking while looking at multiple files placed on the table. You walk toward them. "Good evening, is there anything I can get for the two of you?"

The larger man with the shorter hair began to speak for the both of them. “Two bourbons please.” He said simply.

“Will they be with ice?” You ask, beginning to write down their drinks order on your small notepad.

“Yeah I’ll have ice in mine please.” The one with longer hair requested with a polite point and a smirk. The other man simply shook his head at the question of ice. You smiled at the two of them as you turned around. A few minutes later you return with both of their drinks and put them in front of them, being careful not to spill anything over their work-stuff. They both thank you with a small nod before you go around to your other tables. A few hours pass and people come and go but these two men still sit at their table, talking, drinking and taking some notes. You went over to their table a few times that evening to refill their drinks or bring some small things to nibble on, but you couldn't find out what they were talking about. It seems that as soon as you went over to them they changed the subject. “A super secret mission.” You chuckled to yourself as you stood at the bar, packing your study materials away. You can’t clean a bar with books and paper all over it.

While cleaning you heard someone clear their throat and you looked up. In front of you stood one of the men, the one with longer hair. “Oh my, excuse me. Can I help you with anything?” The man chuckled lightly and looked at the mess in front of you. “My friend over there and I wanted to get another drink before paying. But it seems you are quite busy here.” You looked at the mess and then at him and you couldn’t stop yourself from checking him out. It seems he noticed it, but didn't say anything. “I’m sorry for that, it won’t happen again. I’ll deliver your drinks to your table right away!” The man nodded and went back to his friend, sitting directly opposite them but also facing the direction of the bar. You let out a small sigh before putting the books away and preparing the drinks for the men. The man never said what drinks he wanted but considering the two of them have only been drinking bourbon, bourbon was a good choice. Before starting you tightened your apron, greatly exaggerating your waist, although you could barely breathe you knew that it made you more attractive to patreons. The patreons liking you equals more tips. While making the drinks you made sure to add enough ice in the second drink, so they just might forgive you for your behaviour. As you placed the two glasses on your serving tray you noticed the long haired man give you a small smirk. You went to their table once more and put the beverages in front of them while smiling at both of them. You also left a bill on the table before heading back to the bar, the echo of your shoes making you feel anxious as you walked, causing you to begin holding your tray in both of your hands in front of your stomach. On your way back you heard one of the men say something, which made the short haired one shake his head. You were wondering if they talked about something you did but didn’t want to be rude and ask them about it. It was pretty late already so only a few other people were still at the restaurant. You wanted to get home at some point that night so you hoped that the last guests would be leaving soon. Just as you thought that, you saw the two men you were serving get up and leave the restaurant. Before going through the exit door the man with longer hair looked back at you and gave you a wink. You let out a small laugh and shook your head. You went to the table they left from to clean up and collect the money. You noticed a small note with something written on it. A phone number, you realised. “Call me ;)” was written beside it. You looked around and put the piece of paper in your pocket with a light smile on your face. That smile quickly turned into a shocked face though as you noticed a massive tip laying next to the bill. You didn't even know what to do, so you just stood there looking at the money. As you looked at the flurry of green bills you could hear footsteps behind you and soon your coworker stood next to you, also looking at the money.

“Well, someone seems to like you”, they laughed “Maybe those apron and shirt tricks you do work too well.” You shook your head and left your coworker standing there as they chuckled at their joke.

A little while later the restaurant was empty thanks to the closing hours, and you cleaned the last tables. But before you had the chance to leave as well, you saw the door opening once again. “I’m sorry, we’re closed!” You looked up and saw the long haired man standing in the doorway. Other than just his hair you could instantly tell it was him, the fancy suit helped a lot. “Did you forget anything? I actually think you left too much money when you left with your friend.” You picked up the cash that was placed in an envelope under the bar and began to get the money out of it. “I can give it right back to you, if that's why you came back.”

The man shook his head and slightly chuckled. “No, the tip was meant to be like that. I was actually wondering..”, he stepped closer toward the bar you were standing at. “..Why didn't you text me yet.”

You had to laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I didn’t have the time yet because I had some work to do and you left that note like ten minutes ago!” You chuckled yet again. “Trust me I was going to call you!”

Now it was his time to let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, I'm sure you would have. Anyways, now that I’m here again and it seems your work is done, how about we get your favorite drink together?”

“I mean we are closed…” You raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms over your puffed out chest. “But I’ll let you get a drink this one time.” He seemed satisfied with that answer so he sat down on one of the bar chairs, followed by him tapping the empty space next to him. “At least let me make your drink before I sit down!” You playfully rolled your eyes and began pouring liquor into a shaker. You noticed him looking at his phone after receiving a message from someone. “Someone at home is missing you already?” You asked jokingly as you placed your fruity, yet strong, favourite drink on the bar.

He shook his head. “Not at all. Just my.. Colleague asking what I'm up to.” He put his phone on the counter. You went around the bar and pushed a glass towards the man and sat down on the empty stool beside him. “I never got your name. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” He smirked as he took a sip from the drink. “Not bad.”

You chuckled as you pointed at the name tag that was attached to your shirt. The man looked at you dumbfounded. “Well, this is awkward now. Doesn't seem like a fair trade anymore.”

“I’ll just hope that you were being respectful and you didn’t want to look at my chest.” You winked and couldn’t contain your laughter as you did up the buttons on your shirt, hiding the “money makers” as your best friend would call them. The man looked at your chest for a moment as you did up your buttons before quickly looking away. You could see his face get a little red, although you weren't sure if it was a reaction to what you just said or the alcohol finally showing effect. He cleared his throat and seemed to want to change the subject. “Ehem..the name’s Leon S. Kennedy, by the way.”

“Ooo S. Kennedy huh? Am I going to have to guess what the S stands for?” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you talked.

“Go for it.” He laughed and took another sip of the drink.

“Uhhh… Steven?” A head shake. “Sam?” A no again. ”Sexy?” A chuckle but still a no. “Ugh I give up!”

“It’s Scott.”

“Scott, huh? Sounds kinda cute.” You laughed as you looked at Leon and then the clock behind him. “Even though we haven’t spent much of an evening together we’re going to have to call it quits, I have to lock up now.”

Leon turned around to look at the clock. “That’s a shame.” He turned back to face you. “Y’know I’ve got some drinks back at my place if you’re interested.” He raised his eyebrows as he asked for the date to continue.

You thought about the offer for a moment, you didn’t have any classes in the morning so maybe it would be fun. “Wine?” You asked and he replied with a nod. As the two of you stood up from your stools you quickly paced around the restaurant making sure everything was perfect. The lights were off. All of the switches were off. And finally the security alarm was turned on. You shuffled Leon along as you left the restaurant, making sure that he wasn’t trapped in there when you locked the door. “Alright, that’s everything!” You placed your keys into your work bag and slung it over your shoulder. As the two of you walked to the parking lot you looked down at your phone and secretly texted your roommate saying you were going to be out much longer than anticipated and that your location was being shared with them. Just in case.

Leon fished his keys out of his pocket and tapped a button on the car keys, causing a nearby car to light up. With the size of that tip that Leon left an expensive black sports car belonging to him shouldn’t have been a surprise. “Woah! What car is this?” You asked, not knowing anything about cars apart from the fact that most of them have four wheels.

“It’s a Porsche Nine-Eleven.” He replied. “It’s my favourite.”

“Your favourite? Meaning you have multiple cars?” You questioned. “Can I borrow one? I don’t even have a car.” You chuckled as you opened the door to the luxury car. Leon chuckled too as he got into his seat and tapped a few buttons on the dashboard. The entire car began to roar as it’s engine was turned on, making your entire body shake. Making your entire body heat up. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?” You asked.

He chuckled. “It’s because your heated seat is on. I can turn it off if you would like.”

As the car traveled you looked out of the window and when turning to your left you noticed that the lights in the car softly lit up Leon’s face as he drove the car. Showing off his sharp jaw and slight stubble.

After a twenty minute drive you step out of the car onto the gravel driveway and you hear the stones crunching underneath your feet. Leon walks up beside you and leads you up the stairs to the front door. Reaching into his front right pocket he pulls out his keys and unlocks the double doors, allowing you to walk through before he did so too and then close the door behind him. “Woah! You have such a cool house!” The large modern chandelier reflected onto the marble flooring in the entryway. Leon kicked off his shoes and pushed them over to the side of the wall, prompting you to do the exact same. “You have no idea how much I hate these shoes, they are so uncomfortable, especially when you wear them for twelve hour shifts without sitting down.”

“Why on earth do you wear them if they hurt you?” He asks as he takes off his jacket, hanging it up on a coat rack beside the door. He reaches out his hand to take off yours as well, to which you respond with a smile. You turn around and he carefully takes it off of you, followed by him then placing it on the coat rack next to his own.

"I don't have much to choose from when it comes to clothing. Just in general our work uniforms aren't really the best of the best."

Together the two of you went into the kitchen and you sat at a bar stool, leaning on the counter. As you waited for Leon to fix you up a drink you noticed just how empty the house has been so far. “Wow it’s quite empty, going for the minimalistic vibe huh?”

Leon shook his head as he placed two wine glasses down on the counter, both with ice. “I just haven’t gotten around to decorating this place yet.” He poured both glasses full and sat then leant on the counter in front of you, placing your drink next to your hand. “I mean I’ve only been here for like 3 years but I’m a busy man.”

You picked up your drink and almost dropped it after hearing that response. "Three years? You must be reaaally busy if you didn't have time for at least some decoration. What are you doing all the time anyway?" You took the drink and a small sip before standing up with it still in your hand. Leon looked at you kind of confused, but following you nevertheless. You walked around the kitchen, then the other rooms. You were talking nonstop about the stuff Leon could put on the walls, the floor or just anywhere really. He couldn't even say anything because it seems you were in your own world already planning the entire interior design of his house. Leon was following you through all the rooms as if he was actually visiting you and not the other way around. While planning the designs for Leon’s home you realised just how excited you were to do this officially as a job in the future. Creating your own interior design company and being your own boss was something you had in mind ever since you were a child. After who knows how long you both finished your drinks and also the house tour. You ended back at the kitchen where you started and both sat down on what seems to be the only chairs in this humongous house. Leon went away for a few seconds before returning with yet another bottle of what appeared to be some expensive wine. “You’re not just trying to get me super drunk so you can kidnap me, right?” You asked him jokingly, but also slightly worried. After all, what were you doing here in a complete strangers house?

“If I was going to kidnap you I would have done it already, buttercup.” You gulped but shrugged it off after looking at Leon, who smiled at you. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad being kidnapped by him. He's got quite the nice home after all. Leon stopped you in your thoughts as he handed you a glass of wine. "It's really good, trust me. Nothing against your favourite drink, but still very tasty." You took a little sip from the wine and looked at him with big eyes.

"Wow. This is actually really good. I've tasted many different brands of wine but never one like this. You do know your stuff, huh?"

He let out a small laugh which also made you smile. You didn't know if it was the alcohol but you suddenly felt really hot sitting so close to this handsome man. "Anyway, what are you doing besides working at that restaurant? I saw some school books at the bar earlier, were they yours?"

You nodded lightly. "I'm currently studying Art and Design but I needed some money to even afford all that stuff. So that's why I ended up at that restaurant." He looked at you, maybe even a little sad. But maybe you just started imagining things.

"You don't have any family that supports you or anything?"

You shook your head. "That's kind of a difficult topic. My parents aren't really what they used to be after.. well, let's just say some inconveniences." You took another big sip, showing Leon that you didn't wanna talk about it anymore. Even though he wanted to ask, he stopped himself before ruining the whole evening, or well, night. You sighed and looked at him. "On our tour I think we missed the bathroom. Mind showing me the way?" He nodded and led you through the house. As you were in the bathroom Leon went up to his workroom and picked up an envelope. He went downstairs again and hid the filled envelope in one of your jackets' pockets. After a while you rejoined him in the kitchen looking really tired. "Leon, I don't wanna sound rude but I’ve had a long day and I think I really need some sleep. Do you mind calling me a taxi?" He saw just how tired you were so he didn't try to make you stay any longer. He grabbed his phone, called you a taxi and gave you some money for it.

You wanted to decline, but Leon didn't want to argue so you had no chance but to pay with his money. "I brought you here in the first place so the least I can do is pay for your ride home", he said. You both then went to the entrance where Leon helped you put on your jacket. After that you both sat down outside on the stairs waiting for the taxi to arrive. Neither of you said a word, but it wasn't a weird silence, you both really enjoyed each other's company and after a few moments of sitting on the cold stairs a car arrived. Leon brought you to the door and you told the driver your address. You gave Leon a small wave as the taxi began to drive off...

#resident evil #re2 #re4 #re6 #resident evil vendetta #leon Kennedy #leon s Kennedy #leon x reader #leon Kennedy x reader #leon s Kennedy x reader #x reader #resident evil x reader