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thatforgottenbasilisk · 4 months

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coming out of my grave and ive been doing just fine

Words: 2605 (AO3)

Summary:

Statement of Todoroki Touya, regarding the healing properties of dirt. Original Statement given 12 October, 2XXX. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.

For Whumptober 2023 Day 25, Prompt #2: Buried Alive

The tape recorder is clicked on.

I'm assuming that you've never been dead before.

Maybe that's a stupid assumption, maybe you've been dead a dozen times, I don't know your life and I really don't care about it, either. Point is, for the sake of argument, let's pretend that you don't know what being dead is like.

It might be different, depending on how you died, but for me it felt like I was choking. Drowning, maybe.

Fire takes up oxygen, see. It's one of the first things you learn about fires, fire safety, all that shit. It's one of the first things I was taught about my quirk- don't overuse it, or else it'll take up all your air. He was right, of course, he always is, because of course I overused it and of course that's how I fucking bit it. Drowned to death on dry land.

The fire didn't help, either. It burned down my throat and up my lungs, made it so I couldn't breathe even if there was anything to breathe. I was dead in the water the minute I lost control of my goddamned quirk, even if I somehow managed to get somewhere there wasn't any smoke and there wasn't any flame.

I was choking for a long time after that. I remember trying desperately to breathe, long after the world went dark and silent and I was sure that I was dead already. I remember something being shoved down my throat, I remember trying to breathe around it- even though air was being shoved directly into my lungs, it wasn't right. It wasn't... it wasn't anything, it wasn't keeping me alive, I was already dead. Air would not and could not save me, and yet I kept gasping for it, kept choking and drowning and desperately clawing for just a taste of oxygen, just for a split second, as though winning that one quest in futility would finally allow me to survive.

It didn't. I never did get that last gasp of air, not before everything finally went still.

When I woke up, I found that all my fear, all my wild and pathetic desperation was... for nothing. I was living just fine without any air at all. I just couldn't see, or do anything, and for a moment I was content with that. I was happy with that, with the idea of a rest. I hadn't had that in a very long time.

I grew bored and restless, as any teenager would. Eventually, I decided at last that it was, in fact, necessary to crawl out of the place that kept me safe and whole, that allowed me to finally catch a moment's peace. I was grateful to it, don't get me wrong, I loved the dirt as I would my own flesh and blood, because it nursed me back to life, it handed me respite like it was easy for it to do. Still, I felt that I still had something left to do, so I had to crawl my way out.

When I was able to open my eyes, I found that I had been entombed in a shallow grave, in a place that I had never seen or been to before. Around me were similarly makeshift burial plots, all of the right size to be hosting teenagers my own age or younger children. Their graves were all unmoving, and I knew that they were dead, dead in a way that I could not yet be. I had a purpose, I knew that the moment I saw them, because there had to be a reason that I, of all people, was chosen to rise again. The Earth must have chosen me.

The Earth is healing. It allows for rest, when it is sorely needed.

These children did not need rest.

I knew what I was, then. I didn't have much memory of my past back then, when I first awoke, but I knew what I was meant to do. I knew that life was breathed back into me for the simple purpose of vengeance. It's what I was made for, it's what I was born for, born from the flesh and from the grave alike for that one, single, shining purpose. I was made to exact revenge on those who hurt the defenseless, the children, those who beat them down into the Earth, where they lie sleeping peacefully when they should still be running and screaming and alive, living in the way that I could no longer, because even though I can walk and talk I am not the same as I was before. I will never be the same as I was before. I am, and will always be, missing some part of me that is essential to the human kind of life.

The Earth has filled in that gap for me, but I can still feel the hole that death has left in me. I can feel the seams, the ridges in my soul where I stop and the Earth begins. I will never be the same as I once was. I will never be alive like I once was.

I had to find whoever it was that buried me. I had to find him, because he was the same man who buried the others, who forced the Earth to give rise to me so I could stop it all from happening.

It wasn't difficult to do. I don't think he anticipated anybody getting out of their graves, not after we were buried. Maybe we weren't meant to be there for long, maybe he wasn't meant to be where he was for long. Maybe he moved around often, I don't know. I still don't know how long I was dead, only that it couldn't have been too long, because my siblings all look exactly the same as I remember them- but we're not there yet. When I found the man who buried me, I still had no idea who I was, still had no idea that I even had siblings.

The man was a Doctor. That's all anybody called him, "Doctor," said with the same kind of reverence that you'd give to someone holy. He wasn't holy, though, he wasn't sacred, he was not of the Earth. He was not of any kind of god.

There was some kind of tiredness about him, one that could not be seen just by looking at him. He had been avoiding his rest for a long time, longer than anybody should. Humans are only meant to go on for so long before they grow tired, before they need to be returned to the dirt from where they rose, and that Doctor had been running for far too long. It would have been unnatural, were it not a product of a pure and desperate need to keep going, the same kind that I had once seen in myself, the need to improve, to impress, the need to be better and do better for those who are better than you.

Looking into his face was like looking into my own eyes. Looking at the man who towered over him was akin to looking at my own father, a man who I did not even remember until that very moment.

The Doctor spotted me at the same time I laid eyes on him. I knew it was him, I knew he was the one who killed the others in my graveyard, but I don't know if he recognized me at first. He looked confused for a moment, hesitated in whatever he was saying to the towering man, which caused him to turn and look at me too. I knew I wasn't much of a sight, fourteen years old and practically a twig still, no growth spurt in sight, more faint scar tissue than skin. I had a tremble about me, I'd had it for years, and I'm sure I looked even more pathetic in the stained hospital-issue clothes that were just as caked in mud as the rest of me.

"Oh? And who is this young man, Doctor?" The towering man asked, amusement clear in his voice. He was making a mockery of me, not that it was hard to do. Not that I was visibly anything more than a mockery of myself. I would have been angry at that, once; but the part of me that would have risen to the bait was replaced with the calming Earth, and I did not react.

The Doctor squinted at me in confusion, before he finally murmured, half to himself and half aloud, "The Todoroki boy?"

The towering man's attitude changed in an instant. He clearly saw me as no more a threat than the average wall decoration, because he turned his back to me to hiss, "You told me the Todoroki boy was dead."

The Doctor's mustache began to tremble ever-so-slightly, like the whiskers of a terrified rat, and he replied in a strangely subdued voice, "He is dead, Sensei. I can show you the camera footage and the paperwork, I worked on him myself, an asset like that..." He trailed off, for a moment, before clearing his throat and continuing. "There will be hell to pay for whoever was involved with falsifying his death, I can assure you."

The towering man, Sensei, nodded. He glanced back at me again, and took a breath to speak. I interrupted him before he even began a sentence.

"You were right the first time, Doctor. I am dead." My voice was scratchy with disuse, but the hallway was so quiet that I was audible anyway. It nearly echoed, with how silent it was after that, neither the Doctor nor Sensei saying a word for a moment.

Then, strangely, Sensei began to laugh. Not a quiet thing, either, but a loud, booming laugh, like the clap of thunder in the middle of a storm, multiplied by the silence of everything else around him. He laughed like it was choking him, like he could hardly breathe around it, until finally it died in volume and allowed him to breathe again. Sensei seemed like he needed to rest, too; he had a similar kind of tiredness as the Doctor, but different; his was a kind that the Earth did not want to assuage. He had been running from the Earth's rest, and I am sure that he is running still; he twisted himself away from the grip of humanity, though, and so he was not and is not any of my concern.

"Who told you that?" Sensei asked me, back to that same amused, mocking tone. I did not rise to his bait. I did not get angry, because I don't have the energy for that. Not anymore.

"The grave did. I needed to rest." There was only truth in what I was saying, and I think that Sensei and the Doctor were slowly realizing that.

"Why aren't you still resting, then?" Sensei asked, more seriously now.

"The Earth needed me. I was born to deal the revenge that it cannot. Your Doctor needs to rest." The Doctor paled when he heard me, and Sensei glanced between him and me for a moment before he continued to speak.

"I'm assuming that he won't be walking around after. You seem... unique." Sensei observed, and I only nodded. The Doctor paled further, and Sensei had a grim expression on his face. He seemed to think, for a moment, before he turned to face the Doctor again.

"In the beginning of our agreement, I told you that there were certain things I could not protect you from. This is one of them. The consequence of your own failures is beyond me, even more the method by which it's come back to bite you. I am grateful for your services over these past two centuries, Doctor Ujiko Daruma. May your eternal rest be as peaceful as any other." Sensei turned back to me, and stepped to the side, almost as though he was presenting my victim to me.

"He's all yours, Todoroki Touya. May we never have reason to cross paths again." Sensei nodded to me, in the same kind of respectful nod that a man gives a colleague, and started walking down the hallway past me.

Ujiko's death was quick. His age made it easy, his unconscious need to rest overpowered him more thoroughly than I ever could.

When I dragged him to the shallow grave that had once been mine, the dirt had parted to accommodate. I threw him in without fanfare, and he was swallowed by the Earth as he was meant to be so long ago. While he was being taken, while I was doing the deed, my memories were coming back slowly, as though it was one at a time- when it was done, then and only then did I feel rage again.

The Doctor wasn't personal, not really. I mean, I was mad on behalf of those kids, but I never knew them. When I remembered who I was truly meant to exact revenge on, it was like I'd crawled my way out of another grave; there was some numbness that was gone, there was a fire stoked in me again, and I had only just realized that I'd missed it. I only knew I'd been numb when I felt sensation again.

My father was the man who made sure that I burned myself out. My father was the one who drowned me in expectation, in fear, in loneliness and in pain. He was the one who drove me into the Earth. He was the one who was doing the same to my mother, my brothers, and my sister.

He needs to rest, same as that Doctor. I need to put him in the ground myself.

I need to kill that bastard before he murders any more of my family. I have to protect them. The Earth loves them, because it loves me, so it will help him rest. I'm sure of it.

Statement ends.

- Well, this certainly was an interesting Statement. It's clear that Mr. Todoroki was taken by the Buried after his alleged death, when he immediately proceeded to murder a... questionably legal underground doctor? Everything on Ujiko Daruma, or Daruma Ujiko, is from three hundred years ago, but considering that there was quite a bit on how he was "tired" and "had been running from the Earth," I would not doubt it if I were told that this is the same man.

- This Statement was sent here from Tokyo about two years ago on request from a Researcher who has since left, so this was lost in the shuffle, to the point it was never even translated into English. Until now, that is, but I'd hardly call myself an "official" source... ugh. As for what's happened in the two years since this Statement was given, if we are assuming that Todoroki Touya was the eldest son of the Pro Hero Endeavor- and while that is quite the assumption, it's also- wait, never mind on my defense, I've just got it involuntarily confirmed by Beholding. Either way, this Statement-giver did, in fact, end up killing his father as he intended to do. He, along with his mother and siblings, were reported missing at the scene of the crime and have not been seen since.

- End recording.

The tape recorder is clicked off.

#coming out of my grave and ive been doing just fine #coming out of my grave and ive been doing just fine fic #crossover fic #crossover #tma crossover #mha crossover #my writing

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the-sinking-feeling-starts · 1 year

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so invasive and pretentious

creating systems of down to speak your input and spread your hate

always on stage

always online

the eyes in the sky

106106106106

bring ur backup dancers to me but never show up

completely aware of me

its ur way, u got it perfectly created

im pouring my champagne down the drain at the picture show

YOU DONT LOVE ME YOU JUST LOVE MY INFORMATION

GROW SOME GODDAMN BALLS AND SHOW YOUR FACE

Quit falling to your knees and sending me on long roads to get your pizza

you wont open the door. you wont drive up.

i did not sign up for the swift allience

i am not apart of your army or cult or whatever it is

the birds running the radio (put the radio on) running the web servers, running the picture shows, running the spotify.

my mother was right back in 2014. watching birdman.

MARCOS IS CLOSED 715-218-2708

Relentless and ruthless and fucken pathetic

i dont get the blondies heart of glass cutting me open and your birds flying by the swimming pool

its politics, its family, its mr know-it-all. always never alone.

i have the letter. i keep it as evidence. you left me and gave me wounds.

im FUCKEN SICK of this and dont want to be involved unless im recieving direct communication from you.

Quit hiding behind vpns and tourists

fucken treat me like somebody

dont send in the voodoo mommy dearest to "protect me"

they only love those dolls to see them break

its been a fucken whole year and shit just keeps hitting the fan.

you only call me when im high and avoid my questions because you are afraid of incriminating yourself.

send me running around like a chicken without its head.

what came first? the chicken or the egg?

your posts algorithm says i belong to you. and shows the beach, and then black cats.

you got me fucked up

i dont belong to you. you just wanted the intel. why did you move to michigan? am i that bad at love? what about the late night driving playlists? why did you block me on everything on all your accounts, and then continue to say you "love me" and want "forever"

you come back and haunt me and make me love you like lucy loved ricky

you have taken everything i have loved. you tell me my shows are bad. my music is bad. im making mistakes.

im not deaf. you are.

the penguin production. the four seasons. champagne papi. the hotels. my mothers makeup. your girlfriends town. greys anatomy. magic moments and potions. the gay porn. its fucked up. ive seen this film and i didnt like the ending

you got this gimmick down to a T. years in the making

its nothing new and it will continue to happen to innocent lives who are looking for true love.

its fucked up and you should be ashamed of your actions.

you have watched me suffer and cry and almost get murdered tons of times and wonder where you are and send me on "duck hunts". you update the playlists to send me "easter eggs" of how i should "act" or preform"

it baffles me how you guys know all the trauma and everyones crimes but never ever just have a normal conversation.

hey you got drugs? you'll never walk alone. we are forver stuck on the 9th of october. we forever go back to december 8th. I met mike. you put your dorm for rent. the picture shows grand opening.

the worst part is you MAKE me believe in you. that you have my best intentions.

ive lost loved ones, my belongings, and have cried too many times over this.

so write your songs, play on the stage. make the youtube videos.

at the end of the day, im still blocked and cant communicate with you.

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bereaving · 3 years

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JAMIE THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR || ep. 3 The Two Faces, Part One

#The Haunting of Bly Manor #thobm #thehauntingsource #thehauntingedit #thobmedit #blymanoredit #*mine #this was the moment i lost my goddamn shit in October #and it was glorious

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paperpocalypse · 3 years

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significance.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 26. Cuddling in comfortable silence before murmuring “I love you” + 47. “I’ve been in love with you for years”

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,118 words

Warning: Swearing, violence

His head feels like it’s been split open, the rest of his body feels like one giant bruise and the Handler’s daughter has her fancy leather boot on his fucking throat.

Five couldn’t be less surprised by his luck.

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

He forces in just enough breath to answer her. “Eat shit and die …!”

The reaction is worth it. Lila lets out a furious cry, gritting her teeth and bringing her foot down even harder – and in doing so, changes her center of gravity. Opportunity. Five digs his nails into that damned shoe and pushes upwards. The sudden force sends her flying, and he can breathe again.

Fighting the ache in his bones, Five stumbles to his feet as she does the same. “Come on,” he pants, readying his stance as the woman turns to face him again. “What are you waiting for? Let’s finish this thing.”

She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, sniffling. “This isn’t gonna be quick. You are going to suffer for what you did.”

Suffer? For Christ’s sake – Five scoffs and drops his hands. “Lady, I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Ronnie and Anita Gill.”

“Mean nothing to me.”

“1993, East London.” Lila continues to stare at him like he knows what the hell she’s talking about. “You hog-tied them and you shot them in the head.”

Five narrows his eyes; it’s very possible that she’s just bullshitting him. But despite the rationality of just ignoring her and going for the kill, he searches his memories anyway. 1993, East London. Hog-tied. Tables overturned, the pleas of a couple inside a tiny flat in the middle of the night. Yes, wait – he does remember. 1993, toys strewn everywhere – he told you to close your eyes but you didn’t – East London, two quick shots –

“We had no choice.”

“I know. But …”

“The flower merchants,” he murmurs. Five looks at her with wide eyes. “They were your parents …!”

“And they never did anything to anyone. They didn’t deserve to die like that.”

The Handler ordered him to kill Lila’s parents. Lila, who has powers like them. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Absorbing this newfound information, Five attempts to talk the woman down as he fills out the rest of the picture. “You’re right, alright? I killed them. But I killed a lot of people over the years. It was all just a job. Alright? That was never personal.”

At that, Lila laughs. “‘Never personal,’ my ass,” she sneers. “Yeah, I’ve killed – it’s always, always personal.”

“That’s why you’re not cut out to be an assassin.”

She yanks a knife out of her boot as soon as the sentence leaves his mouth. “Bet your life on that?”

Right then, a shadow moves in the doorway to the barn. Five immediately knows who it is, and his heart seizes in his chest.

“Lila!” Your voice is firm and taunting.

Shit. Shit!

Without hesitation, Five lunges for the knife, only to find himself grabbing at air as Lila reappears behind you. The blade is pressed against your neck before he can even shout your name.

Five clenches his fists as he meets your eyes. Your expression is stony, hands stiffly grasping at Lila’s arm. Jesus Christ, just a little energy to blink – nothing –!

Fucking shit!

“Let her go.”

—

The bearded man smiles. “Sorry, no can do.”

The alley is frigid and dark, the air damp and rotting. He doesn’t move a muscle. In front of him, you breathe steadily, in and out, not saying a word. The steel barrel pressed flush to your temple mirrors the one against his.

“Just hand over your valuables and that briefcase, and we can be on our way.”

“Sorry,” you say, voice steady and cold. (It makes him proud.) “Everything stays with us.”

He looks at you. You blink.

Within the next half-second, he’s knocked your captor to the ground and the two of you are aiming the guns at their previous owners. They raise their hands almost immediately. Exactly like the exercise from his youth.

Another half-second, and both of you pull the triggers.

Five stares down at the corpse now lying on the ground. Then he straightens his tie and turns to you.

You’re still pointing the gun at the other target. His frown softens.

“[Y/n].”

Putting a hand on your arm, he notes how you stiffen, snapping out of whatever zone you had been in. You meet his eyes and breathe in sharply, then relax.

“We’re done.” You frame the question as more of a statement as Five takes the former thief’s gun from you.

“For the night,” he affirms, holding your gaze curiously. “You good?”

You wet your lips and tuck your weapon away. “I’m okay,” you eventually reply. He raises an eyebrow; your mouth twitches. ��I just – well, you’re taking this whole assassin thing a lot better than I am. Pointing guns and shooting and killing for real, and – and all that pizzazz.”

“I was a member of the Umbrella Academy,” Five points out dryly. “Thirteen more years of formal training and being able to spatial jump gives me somewhat of an advantage.”

“… That’s true.” Still, you seem unsettled. “Five, you’re okay with this? We’re … killing people.”

“No. But we have no other option,” he says. “It’s only until I figure out how to get us back, alright?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Alright.”

The pair of you leave the alley, leaving the targets there to be found by the police. The fact that they had a gun pointed at your head should make him feel better about it. They were already criminals, too. Self-defense instead of cold-blooded “corrections.”

There’s still a bitter taste in his mouth anyway.

“You hold your own pretty well,” he murmurs after a while, trying to distract himself.

You grant him a small, knowing smile. “Thanks,” you say, taking his arm as the pair of you walk the rest of the way to the motel. “I had a good teacher while I was stuck in the ruins of the apocalypse.”

He hums. “Weren’t you lucky?”

Your hand tightens around the sleeve of his tailored suit.

“The luckiest.”

—

He’s going to kill her.

Teeth bared, Five starts toward her, only to stop short when Lila presses the blade harder against your throat.

“Not another step, Five,” she warns him, her grip tightening. “Or you’ll both regret it.”

“She’s not responsible for what happened. I was the one who killed them!”

“But she didn’t stop you, did she?”

Five struggles to control his rage. The knife is sharp and black underneath your jaw, ready to draw blood at a moment’s notice.

You inhale shallowly. “Lila,” you rasp.

“Don’t speak.”

“Look,” Five forces out as evenly as he can, catching the woman’s attention again. He can’t take his eyes off that goddamn knife. Five can almost feel the edge cutting into his own skin. “You wanna blame someone, blame the Handler, alright? She faked the kill order.”

“Bullshit! I saw the kill order. AJ Carmichael ordered it, and you and [Y/n] carried it out.”

“Lila, listen to what I’m telling you, alright? The Handler gave us the kill order. She came on the job, which she’d never done before.” He unclenches his fists with unwilling, trembling fingers. His mind is reeling. “You’re Commission. You know execs never go on jobs, but that day in London, she was there. Ask yourself why –”

“Stop trying to muddy the waters.”

Five swallows, pulse racing. He rips his eyes away from your neck to gauge Lila’s expression. Doubt is beginning to bleed into it, and he manages to keep his tone level.

Focus on completing the picture. No sudden movements.

“Think about it, Lila. It all makes sense.”

Lila’s grip on the knife relaxes by the smallest amount. She hesitates for a moment before speaking. “What?”

“She never cared about your parents. She was looking for you.”

What little is left of her anger melts off Lila’s face. For the first time, the girl looks completely vulnerable. And it’s not a farce.

“Why?” she whispers.

Come on …

“‘Cause you’re one of us.”

Lila whips her head around when Diego cuts through the silence, holding you even more tightly against herself. Five’s gaze snaps back to the knife again and he swears internally.

Dammit, Diego, you better have a plan!

“The Handler stole you, Lila. Just like our asshole father took all of us,” his brother explains carefully.

“No. It’s not the same thing.”

“You’re right. Because he didn’t have our parents murdered.” Diego approaches her, staying low to the ground, hands outstretched. “Listen to me, Lila. You were born October 1, 1989, the same day as all of us.”

The rest of his siblings close in on Lila, slowly, warily. The movement sends her into a panic, and she cuts a little into your neck. You let out half of a gasp and swallow the rest of it, but it’s enough.

Five sees red.

“Get your fucking hands off her!”

“STAY BACK!”

“Five! Back off!” Diego shouts. Chest heaving and blood roaring in his ears, Five looks at him and then at your sweaty, frozen face – and against every fiber of his being, he listens and backs off, glaring venomously as his brother then turns to Lila again. “Lila? Lila, stop. Let her go.”

She turns her head from side to side, knuckles white as she keeps the knife against your throat. “No,” she chokes. “Diego, you don’t understand. They killed my parents. They took my life away from me.”

Five seethes. “For the last time, it was nothing personal –"

“And it was wrong. I know.” Diego’s eyes flit to Five’s, silently reprimanding. “You want to make them pay for what they did. But killing [Y/n]’s not gonna bring your parents back. You know that.”

“It’s not about bringing them back.”

He nods once, softly. “You’re right. It’s about justice. Honoring their memory.” Diego’s voice is gentle. “Trust me, Lila, I get it. I lost someone to the Commission too. She wasn’t family, but she was my friend, and I cared about her. She wasn’t supposed to die. She didn’t deserve to die. But she did.”

As Diego continues talking, Five keeps his guard up on the other side, watching and waiting for a contraction of a muscle, a single forewarning of violence. If another drop of your blood stains that blade, shit, he’ll kill the woman with his own two hands, Diego’s feelings be damned.

Tightening his jaw, Five shifts on his feet as he looks at you. You stare back with calm eyes – just like that night in the alley, but this time, with no signal for him to make a move.

Goddammit, they should’ve gotten you to safety by now!

“… Just think about whether taking another life would honor their memory. [Y/n] deserves a chance to start over, live a peaceful life with people she cares about. And so do you.”

Lila’s trembling. Yet, she refuses to budge. “If it weren’t for her and Five,” she whispers, “I wouldn’t need that second chance. I would have been all alone if Mum hadn’t found me that night.”

“But there’s a reason she found you. She’s using you, Lila. The Handler.”

“You’re wrong. She raised me.” Lila pauses, then asserts, “She loves me.”

“She’s dangerous,” Diego emphasizes. “And you’re scared of what she’ll do with all that new power. That’s why you dragged me to the Commission. Because I know what it’s like to love dangerous people.”

—

“Oh, my.” The Handler puts a hand on his shoulder, hovering behind him. “One hundred and forty-three kills on the simulation? That’s a new record. Very, very good, Five.”

Five bristles at her closeness, but he doesn’t move away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of unnerving him. “Thanks,” he says tersely.

“Tell me, Five. From what I’ve seen during your training, you’d be a lot more efficient in the field if you were a one-man team. Working alone is when you work best.”

“I’m partnering up with [Y/n].”

“And you’ve filled out the paperwork and everything, I know. I know. But I implore you to think about it logically,” the Handler tells him, leading him down the hallway. “[Y/n] has highly marked assessments, but frankly, they’re nowhere near your level.” She raises her eyebrows at him and blows out a stream of smoke. “Forgive me for assuming, but perhaps this is less about a partnership that would benefit the Commission and more about your personal … relationship.”

Five smiles thinly at her. “With all due respect, we’ve worked together for years. Almost forty years, in fact. I can assure you that our partnership will deliver more than satisfactory results.”

The woman just hums serenely, eyebrows still raised and cigarette holder between her lips as he faces her. Behind her, he sees you approaching.

“Excuse me,” he says politely.

As he sidesteps the Handler to meet you halfway, your shared employer calls out to him, voice ringing through the sparse crowd of Commission drones. “You’re a dangerous man, Five,” she drawls, “and this is a dangerous job. If you want to protect someone, we won’t stop you, but don’t let it endanger this opportunity we’ve so generously provided. To the both of you.”

“Duly noted,” Five replies over his shoulder, walking away with you. He can hear the Handler’s heels click against the floor as she goes on her way as well.

“She’s suspicious about us partnering up, isn’t she?” you ask him lowly.

He frowns. “I would be too if I were her. But we have to stay together.”

“Well.” You reach up to adjust his hat, tilting it slightly. “In any case, I’m pulling my own weight in the field. Just like in the apocalypse. No one-sided protection.”

“[Y/n], this is different from the apocalypse. We’re not dealing with food shortages or bad weather – we’re dealing with people.”

“All the more reason for you to trust me.” Despite your usual controlled tone and mien, he sees the way that your eyes glint. “I’m kinda dangerous myself, Five. Especially for the people I love, and I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Five sighs.

“You’re so sappy, you know that?”

(Nevertheless, he finds himself mumbling those four words, just loud enough for only you to hear.)

—

“Difference is …” Diego glances around at their siblings, then looks down, “they love me back.”

“Shut up.”

“The only thing she loves is power. Now, the minute she can’t use you, she will turn on you, and deep down, I know you know that.”

She tilts the knife against your neck. Five sucks in a breath, his heart pounding.

“You don’t know me, Diego.” Lila’s voice is hoarse.

Diego steps closer. He lifts a hand to cover hers over the knife.

“Don’t I?” he whispers. “I know that we can be your family. If you just let us.”

Lila’s eyes are glossy with unshed tears. Hesitantly, she turns her head to look around at his family, and in that moment, Five has a cautious inkling that Diego’s words actually got through to her. She doesn’t resist when Diego pulls her hand gently.

When she releases you, he almost feels weak with relief.

Five murmurs your name as you stagger over to him; you grab his arms, and he raises his hands to hold your face between them.

“Shit,” he breathes, “[Y/n] –”

“I’m okay,” he hears you say, but his ears are ringing and your skin is cold and shit, your neck – delicately, Five tilts your head back, and you attempt to brush his hands away. “Five, it’s – it’s just a scratch …”

His fingers brush against a wetness on your skin. You wince, almost imperceptibly. He draws back to look at his hand, and when he sees the blood on his fingertips, your blood, the wave of relief crashing onto him abruptly morphs back into rage.

Before you can pull him back, Five lunges at Lila.

Gunshots echo throughout the barn.

—

You’re smiling.

—

He wakes up, gasping for breath.

“Oh, good! You’re still alive,” the Handler says, looming over him. Her lipstick is bright red through the dizzying blurs. “Lucky you. You got to see how this all played out.”

Grappling for air, Five tries to speak – tries to give one last word, to finally tell the damned snake to fuck off as he stares into the barrel of her automatic. But it hurts to breathe and he can’t. Fuck, it hurts. It hurts. His tongue feels like lead and his throat is closed up. All he can do is look.

But before she can pull the trigger, he hears gunfire.

Bullets rend flesh that isn’t his. Five’s eyes widen, stunned; the Handler gasps sharply. She turns. More gunfire.

She falls.

Shit, that could only mean.… Five struggles to lift his head, almost blacking out from the pain as the gunman approaches, crushing straw underfoot. A shadow falls over him.

The Swede silently tilts his gun down at his face, and he realizes: they are both the last ones. Everyone else is dead. The Swede’s brothers. The Handler. Lila. His siblings. You.

This is the end.

(This doesn’t have to be the end.)

… Five blinks, numb.

(You’re the one who got us stuck here.)

Unless …

(Seconds. Not decades.)

Seconds.

His lungs burn. Hope blooms in his chest.

(C’mon, Five.)

Concentrate. Hands clenching sluggishly, Five focuses on gaining back the feeling in them. Seconds, not decades. A familiar, electric buzz thrums through his bones, warm, crackling with energy. His hands begin to glow. Blue envelops them like they had so many times before.

It happens slowly, time reversing itself like molasses oozing back into a jar. The Swede lowers his arm and retreats. Bodies begin to rise. Five feels himself getting pushed up, and his feet touch the ground; he presses forward, running, refusing to look back. The sharp pains recede to a singular ache.

Seconds.

He breaks through behind the barn door with a gasp. Air fills his chest, full and crisp.

Immediately, Five looks back at you and everyone else, standing and breathing, and pats himself just to make sure.

Holy shit.

Spotting movement outside, Five leaps at the Handler just as she walks in, seizing her weapon and turning it on her. His finger curls at the trigger. She raises her hands in surrender, lips pursed.

Got you, you son of a bitch.

“It’s true, isn’t it? What Five said,” he hears Lila ask. He doesn’t dare look away from her mother, meeting her poisonous glare with an equally cold one. “Answer me! Is it true?”

The Handler takes in a breath. “Well –”

Before she can finish her sentence, blood sprays out from her chest. She collapses. Dead.

The Swede. Five stares at her body, gun lowering. There’s a pregnant pause, void of any air – and then in his periphery, Lila shoots forward.

Luther charges after her. “The case!”

“No!”

Diego tackles him to the ground. Lila disappears in a flash of blue.

One dead, one missing. Neither of which are you or his siblings. There might be hope for them yet. Rolling his shoulders, Five turns his attention to the rogue assassin, cocking his gun and pointing it at him. The Swede reciprocates.

Nobody utters a word, for fear that it may be their last. But as Five feels the weight of the automatic in his arms, he wonders, suddenly, just how much he has in common with this man. A forgotten humanity. The death of their families. The force of a person with nothing to lose.

Except in the Swede’s case, he has no chance of gaining back what he had lost.

This is the end.

Five takes his finger off the trigger, then after a brief hesitation, lets go of the gun.

“Enough,” he says.

Nothing happens at first. The only sign that the man heard him is how he looks away from Five, surveying the rest of the barn’s occupants.

Five returns his gaze firmly, muscles tense, when he meets it again. The Swede regards him for another moment, then finally speaks.

“Inte mer.”

He drops his weapon. No more killing.

—

After Vanya helps the kid and calms him down, she goes with him and Sissy to help them pack up. Everyone else exits the barn as well to rest up and say their goodbyes before leaving, save for Diego, who talks to Herb and Dot with you and Five before joining the rest of the group at the house.

As soon as everything seems like it’s on track, Five brings you straight to the bathroom before you can protest.

“Five, it’s just a scratch.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

In a familiar turn of events, you’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, sulking as he cleans the rest of the dried blood from your neck. Five scowls as he inspects the thin, rough scab underneath your jaw. For shit’s sake, it’s more than a ‘scratch’ – but at the very least, the cut wasn’t deep enough to cause too much bleeding.

Obviously, he’d have preferred it if you hadn’t gotten cut at all.

“She could’ve killed you.”

“I know,” you murmur. He glares at you softly, and you reach over to hold his hand. “Sorry for worrying you.”

Five scoffs, shaking his head. “Worrying me? I was damn well past worrying when she –” At that moment, he makes the mistake of seeing the guilt in your eyes, and he sighs. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You shrug quietly as he opens a large Band-Aid. “That I had to do something to keep you safe.”

“At your expense?”

Your miniscule smile changes into a grimace for a split second when he sticks the bandage on, but it returns immediately after. “You would’ve done the same thing, Five.”

All he can retort with is a displeased huff.

Silently, you stand up and turn him around, urging him to sit down this time as you pluck another hand towel from the stack that Vanya had given the two of you. Five sits still, mouth shut and eyes watching, as you start cleaning his face. Your expression is tender. A familiar feeling wells up inside of him.

Suddenly, you chuckle.

“What?”

“It’s just – if I didn’t know any better,” you say, scrubbing at a particularly grimy spot on his cheek, “I’d think that you were a schoolboy that just got into a fight and lost.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, good thing that you do know better, because I obviously would’ve won.”

“Obviously.” Your eyes glint, like they have so many times before.

—

“How bad does it hurt?”

Your hand is soft in his as he glances at his wrist, propped up on a stack of books, then into the small fire burning a few feet away. “Not that much,” he answers. “Thanks for splinting it.”

“Thanks for talking me through it.” You breathe in, head on his shoulder, testing the words on your tongue before you continue. “I was worried. I’m glad it’s feeling better.”

A wrist sprain is nothing to write home about, figuratively speaking. It’s more of an inconvenience than an actual concern; Five figures that the injury will heal in a week, a week and a half at the most. Frankly, he’s more concerned about how much longer it’ll take to complete daily tasks in the meantime.

… You, on the other hand – well, he wonders if you’ve ever gotten anything more than a few cuts and scrapes growing up. The closest he had ever seen you get to panicking was after he fell today, and you’ve been wandering around with him for years.

In a strange way, Five thinks, he was glad for it. He is glad for you. Glad for your presence, your level head. He is glad for the way you hold his hand and talk to him during the day and after dark. And he is glad, secretly, that you want to protect him just like he wants to protect you.

“I love you.”

The words slip out, rough and unbidden.

Five holds his breath when they echo in his ears. You stop tapping your fingers over his skin. Perhaps that’s a bad thing. It was not a mistake, of course, and he isn’t going to take it back, but if that wasn’t what you were saying this whole time – shit. He lets go of your hand, his throat scratchy and strangely closed up.

But then – your fingertips brush his face. He swallows.

“I love you too.”

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 14- New World Order

Summary: With the world back to it’s usual business, and the Avenger’s base on a long road to recovery. You and Bucky begin a new chapter in Brooklyn, New York City.

Warning: just fluff really, and some spicy talk maybe a little suggestive themes if you will

Masterlist

It’s been about three months since the events leading up to the dusting of Thanos’ whole army and the death of that giant purple bastard. Ninety-one days since Tony Starks funeral, and 2184 hours since your entire world changed for the better.

Although you’d be a sore liar if you said you didn’t miss your old life with everyone at the Avengers Facility. Even with such a dramatic new change to your life now, you miss Natasha, you miss your late night talks with Steve, and maybe you even miss that little shithead raccoon. But there has been an emerging inner peace with what you gained that just about outweighs your heavy losses.

Someone who’s brought you unconditional love and understanding in your blooming state, someone who’s helped to draw your grief and anguish out of your vessel and transform it into something golden and pure. Your sweet Bucky. If someone last year was to claim at this time you’d be living in an apartment in New York with the love of your life. Well, you’d probably have swiftly made them regret it.

But now, things are better, not one hundred percent fantastic and awesome. But so much better then yourself an entire year ago could ever have even imagined. And that’s good enough for you.

Staring intently down at your little houseplant, you gently spray it with a spray bottle before standing back to admire your caretaking skills. Not too bad. Not too bad at all. Face shifting to that of a stern army general, you get down real close to the leaves so that your face is mere inches from the soaked plant, “I hope you drink this up okay? Bucky thinks I’m gonna kill you and I’m not losing that bet to him. No sir, so don’t you die on me.” The tiny fern keeps silent for obvious reasons at your little pep talk, it’s green leaves protruding beautifully outward as you set the spray bottle onto the countertop.

“He’s gonna owe me fifty dollars if you last till October, and I don’t even care about the money. I just want bragging rights.” You whisper before standing up and wandering over to the living room window.

The city lights are glowing vibrantly in the nights atmosphere, cars and people alike traveling down below your apartment building, oblivious to the whereabouts of two Avengers a couple stories above their very heads. Two ex-assissins. Both products of Hydra. Damn you’ve got a loaded history.

“Y/N! Are you coming!” There’s a long pause of silence from your bedroom that causes you to open your mouth to answer, but before you’re able to say anything in reply, Bucky yells out, “Also I can’t find my white t-shirt, do you know where it is?! Actually never mind I’m going shirtless!”

You let out a humored snort before swiftly turning on your heel and walking down the hallway until you finally reach your bedroom door, “You know we have neighbors right?”

Bucky sends you a shy smile as he disappears into the bathroom for something, “I’m sure this place has thick walls.” He says while flipping up the ceramic toilet seat.

“Uh huh.” You mutter unconvinced, deciding to search his drawers for a spare sleeping shirt.

Noticing your snooping, Bucky finishes up before flushing the toilet and wandering out the door until he’s practically leaning against your shoulder, “Don’t you have clothes?” Questions Bucky with a small chuckle as you throw him a look.

“I need ones to sleep in.” You casually protest as he slowly nods, clearly not getting your admittedly vague point.

“Don’t you have one to sleep in?”

Picking out a grey shirt of his, you shut the dresser before taking off yours, “All my shit got destroyed when Thanos blew up the base. So I’m limited with the stuff I did buy.” He watches as you unintentionally flash him before pulling on his sleep shirt, “And I’m not exactly eager to be out and about right now. I’m still getting used to the new amount of people on this planet. Also I don’t like shopping......or people.”

Bucky nods in understanding as he follows you to the bed, though he can’t quit suppress his chuckles, “Okay fine.”

Throwing the blanket back, you raise a brow at him for that humored yet blunt remark, “Did you not want me to take this one?” You ask, speaking like you’re talking to a little puppy just to tease him more.

Rolling his beautiful blues, Bucky gets into bed as you do the same, “No. Its fine, I don’t actually care.”

Chuckling, you move to sit next to him as he lays on his back, “Good. Cause you’re shirtless and I think I like you better that way. Means I can tickle you easier.”

“Don’t you dare tickle me Y/N or I will lock you out of the bathroom again I swear.” Warns Bucky as he quickly pulls the blanket over his muscular body while you start laughing at him.

“I wasn’t gonna do that. No....definitely not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Huh well, guess you won’t be able to cuddle me then if you don’t trust me...” Throwing the blanket off of him, Bucky quickly engulfs you into his strong arms as you squeak with surprise, pulling you down so that he can be the big spoon for tonight.

“Now you’re trapped.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as his chest pushes at your back when he laughs. He thinks he’s so funny.

Holding his arm that’s pressed against your body, you gently pat it as he hums in content, “Buck, I’m thoroughly enjoying this actually so just keep your arm there, even if it falls asleep you’re not allowed to move it sucker. That’s the rules.”

“Well maybe I like those rules. Sucker.” Chuckles Bucky as you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Now go to sleep, it’s been a long week.”

“Fine.” You mumble into the darkness as a yawn hits you right after. Soon your breaths become steady and calm as you both lay there for another thirty minutes. You are tired, it’s just, something keeps you awake that just can’t be satisfied if you keep going on like this.

“Hey.” You whisper, he gives a low hum in reply, “Buck, I forgot to tell you I have a cat.”

Opening an eye, he gently squeezes your stomach, “You have a cat? Y/N what....how...uh, where is this cat?

“I gave her to Morgan. So I guess she’s technically not mine anymore, I don’t know. Just felt like telling you that.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Anytime.”

The both of you go as silent as ghosts before erupting into a fit of giggles, he buries his face into your hair as his sweet laughter bounces off the walls of your room. Though soon enough does the both of your giggles die down to nothing more then the calming sounds of your breathing.

Your mind dwells with a growing fatigue though your body seems to want something else then slumber, sucking in a soft breath, you hum in thought before whispering, “Bucky.” Just to spark his curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Uh,” Maybe you shouldn’t be asking this and just let him sleep, “how tired are you?” You ask him anyways.

He pauses for a moment before slowly answering with a mumbled, “Tired.”

You hum in acknowledgment, voice low as you answer him, “oh okay.” Immediately sparking his interest.

“Why?” Asks Bucky, intrigued with your slightly disappointed response.

“Nothing, you said you’re tired so we can sleep.”

Bucky’s head rises off of the pillow as he leans over you to try and look at your face, “Well now I wanna know so tell me.” States Bucky in curiosity before catching himself, eyes softer now, “Please.”

Sighing, you purse your lips together, knowing he’s still leaned against your shoulder but deciding to spill anyways as you half-sheepishly whisper, “I’m kinda horny.”

“Kinda?” Chuckles Bucky in an almost teasing manner as you snort.

“Listen you little shithead, I know we did it the other day but I haven’t had sex in five goddamn years give me a break for being a bit horny despite my sleepiness.” You sass, “I’m just, I’ve been feeling a lot of things since you’ve come back. And I yunno, didn’t wanna come off too strong at first so...uh...yeah.”

Bucky hums in thought, “Right, right....yeah.”

Maybe he is too tired? You let out a little huff of slight embarrassment before turning your head to face him better, “It’s just how I’m feeling right now but if you’re too tired that’s really fine with me okay Buc...oh uh...mhmm...” Your worries lost to the wind as his fingers begin slipping underneath your shirt, plush lips pressing feather light kisses against your neck to shut you up from your restless mind. His digits graze over your hardened nibble before Bucky pulls your body flush to his, stubbled chin pressed against your shoulder as he plants a tiny kiss there.

You smile into the darkness when his kisses trail up from from your shoulder to your neck and finally your cheek, he slowly turns you onto your back as his lips plant butterfly kisses all over your face as you begin chuckling at how undeniably adorable he’s being right now. Mhmm hmm you could get used to this.

His arms slip from out of your sleep shirt, soon trapping you to the bed as he hovers over your heavenly vessel, granting you with a plethora of lovely kisses all over your heated skin like he’s exploring you for the first time all over again. Your hands instinctively trail through his shortened dark locks while he draws your legs apart with his muscular torso, doing everything to further spark your growing excitment.

Tonight will indeed be wonderful.

——

Waking up from out of a decently pleasant slumber, you suck in a deep breath to awaken the senses for the day, hands feeling around the rumpled up sheets for your snuggle buddy only to find nothing but an empty bedside. He’s gotten unbelievably good at sneaking out of bed it’s honestly one of the most impressive things he can do.

Your eyes scan the semi-closed window shades to reveal a glowing darkness, it’s only 5:00am, and you know exactly where he’s gone off to even after keeping him up for half the night. Instantly you’ve slipped out of bed, not bothering to turn on the lights as you quietly wander down the hallway until you reach the living room.

Past the small kitchen, and to the left of the single lounge chair, there he is. Snoozing like a meaty log of pure muscle and Vibranium as he lays on a thin blanket flush against the hardware floor. Another blanket covering his lower half as he shifts a bit in his sleep, he’s restless. Your eyes soften at your lover, he’s been doing this recently since Steve left and the world sucked Bucky back into reality. You’ve had plenty of time to adjust of course, but for Bucky, he’s had three months since you two parted from the comfort of Wakanda to live in America as part-time Avengers.

Technically he’s only free from the government and jail time for that matter because he was pardoned by the president and thus was forced to agree upon attending mandated therapy for everything the Winter Soldier did in the past. While you on the other hand were pardoned for war crimes and your involvement with the terrorist organization Hydra because of your status as an Avenger.

Also you’re technically only still allowed to live in the United States because you live with Bucky, who is conveniently from America, so you get a free pass as long as you two plan on residing under the same roof. So it works out for you.

Suddenly his labored breaths quicken and a second later he jolts awake, now drawing himself into a seated position as little beads of sweat shine in the light of the glowing television screen that shows some unimportant sports game.

His chest rises and falls before his blue eyes blink back the vivid fuzziness of his latest nightmare, gaze slowly shifting over to you once he realizes another body is near him. When his irises catch you in the full glow of the tv, he immediately lowers his head in slight embarrassment.

“Did I wake you up again?” Mutters Bucky, almost sounding like he’s mad at himself for letting you find him like this once more.

Shaking your head, you swiftly move to seat yourself at his level before leaning your back against the lounge chair, “You never wake me up Bucky, I think I have a sixth sense for you or something cause when you leave I just know.” You chuckle lightly as he shifts himself closer to you, “Also I miss you next to me.”

His head presses against the corner of the chair as he leans down to leave a light kiss on your shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just.....I don’t want to startle you when I’m having a nightmare and wake up, well, like that.”

Turning to face him, you reach a comforting hand up to gently run it through his shortened dark hair, “You can’t scare me off that easily Barnes. I could probably be classified as the monster under your bed if we’re talking about scary things at night.”

He reveals the ghost of a smile while leaning into your touch, “I know Y/N, it’s just not fair that I do this more then I should. You shouldn’t have to wake up all alone after living like that for five fucking years....I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“oh James..” You whisper while scooting closer so that your bent knees are against his own, hand now snaked down so that you can intertwine your hands with his, “...it’s not your fault the nightmares are coming back. And as much as I miss having you near me, sometimes we all need our space when things get internally rough. I get it, believe me. But don’t ever feel sorry okay? You have nothing to say sorry for, at least not to me alright?”

Bucky nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze while he shows the flash of a smile, “Okay.” Whispers Bucky, eyes falling down to your intertwined fingers before he finds your gaze once more, “Let’s go to bed, the sun will be up soon and I have a therapy session today.”

“Therapy is good for you Bucky.”

He rolls his eyes as you laugh at his annoyed expression, “You are my therapy.” Protests your lover before standing and pulling you up with him.

Hugging his torso affectionately, you smirk up at him, “Wrong answer James.” Holding back a genuine grin, he simply leans down to press his lips against yours. Doing his best to shut you up from further mentioning his required therapy sessions that he absolutely loathes to attend.

——

Hands stuffed deep within your jacket pockets, you wander in step with Bucky who brushes his right arm against yours every couple of steps on the cement sidewalk of Brooklyn. You patiently waited the full forty-five minute session for him, knowing all too well that the second he walked out of there and saw your beautiful face. He’d be significantly less grumpy then before, just as you’d suspected.

Turning your head to face him, he keeps looking straight ahead though he’s aware enough to know you’re about to say something about the session, “You didn’t mention the nightmares did you.” Bucky huffs, annoyed at getting so easily caught by your observant intellect about him. You can read him like a book.

“No.” A blunt answer, he knows there’s no point in lying. “She thinks I need to call more people. Be more social or something.....it’s stupid.” He grumbles to himself though your ears catch it all the same.

You hum in agreement, “Well it wouldn’t kill you to call Sam, I know he tries to text you sometimes...”

“Does he text you?”

“Yeah.” You reply before playfully nudging his arm, “And unlike you, I answer. He’s just a concerned friend, which is nice, you need those kind of people.”

“I don’t need anyone but you Y/N. I’m good, really.”

Rolling your eyes, you snort as he throws you a half offended look, “Babe, I love you. But it’s admittedly a good thing to have other friends other then me. I know this from experience as we both know, so, give him a call sometime okay? For me.”

“Ugh, fine.” He begrudgingly mutters, “But only for you, that’s it.” Smiling brightly at him, you’re about to add something else when the sounds of your friend Yori rings loud in the bustle of the city as he argues with his annoyance of a neighbor, Unique. Something about trash and putting it in the wrong bin.

Bucky soon comes to the rescue and quickly puts an end to the argument before Yori decides to throw hands and gets himself in trouble. The stubborn old man gives up on his yelling and soon Bucky is able to convince him to get lunch with the two of you.

To the sushi place you go.

“Nobody made it past 90 this week.” Says Yori sadly as you lean against Bucky’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the newspaper that he’s holding in one hand while you use your chopsticks to stuff a chunk of sushi in your mouth.

“So young. Such a shame.” Mutters Bucky with a shake of his head while he takes another bite of his meal.

“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a little adventurous?” Smiles Leah as you take a sip of your water, she loves when you three come in during her shift. Honestly she’s heard a lot of your complaining over the last couple weeks, though it’s usually just about some city annoyance since you don’t want to scare her off with all the real shit you’ve dealt with. You’re trying to make friends after all.

You acknowledge her with a raise of your drink before setting it on the glass counter, “Oh yeah, I like to live a little on the wild side..” You add with a laugh, “..unfortunately I tend to drag them along with me.”

Yori nods, “I enjoy the adventure.” Before pointing to Bucky, “It’s him right here who is scared of getting his feet wet.”

Leah laughs at the adorably confused face of Bucky as he sends the old man a look while you snicker in amusement. “Yori.” Warns Bucky without an once of aggression while you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze of affection.

“What?” Protests Yori, “I am right and you know it. Y/N am I not right?”

“Oh, you’re definitely not wrong.” Bucky pouts as you give his stumbled cheek a light peck, eyes set back onto your delicious sushi as he pretends to be annoyed by you and and Yori’s teasing.

The three of you continue to chomp down on your weekly lunch days meal at the usual sushi spot for another minute longer. Yori’s eyes suddenly sparking with a thought that you know he’s absolutely not going to keep to himself.

“You know what?” Whispers Yori as he leans in closer to Bucky, quit obviously pointing a finger towards you though you simply ignore them as he continues, “You better treat your woman well okay? She’s a good one...Ah I have a perfect idea. You go on a date, like dancing or....or, bingo.” Suggests the old man as your smile grows.

Bucky’s brows furrow as he whispers back, “We’re already dating.”

Yori nods, “You misunderstand my point, you must keep the flame going always okay? Very important, very important. When was the last time you gave her flowers huh? Went to the park? Whooed her..”

“I bought her a plant.” Says Bucky defensively as he side eyes you, “I, I whoo her.”

The old man smiles, “Good, good. That’s how you keep them around for a long time. Don’t forget that, I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sure you do.” Mumbles Bucky as you suppress the urge to laugh at their adorable conversation about how to treat a significant other right. That significant other being you.

——

Seated crisscrossed on the wooden floor of yours and Bucky’s shared apartment, a single thin blanket underneath you, your eyes squint suspiciously at Bucky like you don’t believe a single thing he’s saying. He’s seated on a pillow across the small coffee table, raising a dark brow at you while he holds back a growing smirk.

Your eyes soon shift down to the board before slowly trailing over his forced stoic face, “Well, Mr. Barnes....you’re a strong captain I’ll admit. But I am a skilled sea traveler of my own. E7.” His blue irises flicker down to his board, expression shifting ever so slightly in irritation, you got him.

Biting his lip, his hands move from behind the plastic board of the game that you can’t see, “How about that.” States Bucky with a genuinely impressed nod, “You sunk my battleship.”

Instantly your hands ball into fists, “Yessss.” You whisper joyously as your eyes squint in happiness for your first ever win against the literal master of Battleship. “Ha ha sucker! I won! I fucking won!” You shout with passion as he leans back on one arm to watch you jump up into a theatrical victory dance. God he loves you so much. You dangerous little goofball.

Swinging your arm dramatically in a circle, you shake your hips before winding down your dramatics to wander on over to Bucky who’s still seated on the floor, shimmering blues never leaving yours. Smirking victoriously, you crouch down to meet his humored gaze, “I think I deserve a prize.....and by prize I mean you get me those gummy worm things from the corner store. I deserve it after all.”

He tilts his head, the corners of his mouth rising as his eyes flicker to your lips for a brief moment, “Do you now?” He smiles lovingly though a sudden mischief sparkles in his eyes.

“Yes. This was the first time I ever won so I definitely deserve some type of reward for my efforts.” You state justly, eyes narrowing as you add, “Or I will battle you, and I’m not talking about the game.”

Bucky tilts his head up, an alluring smile playing at his plush pink lips while his eyes flicker to your mouth once again, oh he is certainly not going to get you naked in an attempt at swaying your mind from those gummies. You’re an ex-assassin who deserves some damn gummies every once in awhile. And his ass is gonna get you them, it’s only fair after all.

“Y/N.” Coos Bucky in that sultry voice of his, metal hand reaching up to touch your beautiful face, but as his fingers come within an inch of your precious skin. You shoot a hand up to clasp against his in an iron grip, blue eyes immediately going big when you tuck and roll. Taking his whole body with you.

In the swift aftermath, you’re able to skillfully pin him to the ground with relative ease. Both your hands pressed firmly against his naked wrists as you lean your face mere inches from his own, “I warned you, didn’t I?” You tease playfully as he breaks out into an inviting grin.

“I have something else in mind that you’ll absolutely love.” Assures Bucky with a telling expression that does nothing to hide the lust that flashes through them.

“In that case, pin me to the floor. And I’m all yours for the evening.” You whisper slyly as he practically shivers underneath your touch, “But if I win, you gotta travel two blocks for those delicious bitches. Khorosho, lyubov' moya?” You add in your native tongue of Russian, translating to “okay, my love” before pressing your forehead against his, eyeing him up like a bull ready to fight.

Bucky lets out a little sigh, something between annoyance and pleasure, “Fine. But you’re going dow...” Your lips crash against his in a hot second of passion before you quickly pull away, letting go of his wrists as you move to stand in a defensive position nearby.

Slowly blinking, he lets out a little huff before pulling himself to his full height, eyes trailing over you as he raises a brow, “Now that wasn’t fair.”

You casually shrug, “What wasn’t fair? We made a deal Barnes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at your teasing, “You know what I...okay, okay. We’re really doing this?”

You shrug at his adorable expression, “You either have to walk 2 blocks in the dark for my treat, or a night of undeniably fantastic sex is within your reach. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, it’s the principle of the thing here. So, I’m going to fight you James Buchanan Barnes.” Oh and you used his full name too, Bucky knows without a doubt, it’s on.

He reveals a little smirk at that, “Guess I don’t have much of a choice. Hmm alright hot stuff let’s do this.” Muses your lover as he draws his hands up into fists, ever so slowly approaching you like a wary predator to their opposing rival. Not so sure if this is going to be a fight he can win or not, well, it sure won’t be an easy one.

When he’s within arms reach, you swiftly duck under his swift jab to your right arm, shooting a leg out to push him away from you while your body twists around to meet him. “Cheap shot.” Mumbles Bucky, calculated gaze studying your every movement as you slowly wander closer to him.

Looking as innocent as ever, “I want some gummy worms, I’ll break you little man.” Accent dripping with every word, further arousing Bucky though he tries to play it off with a laugh and a shake of his head.

Soon the two of you engage in a swiftly heated battle of hand to hand combat showing your admittedly intense skills of what only a former assassin could display so fluidly. Your two bodies moving like seasoned dancers across the hardwood flooring of your apartment, though you’re surprisingly able to keep relatively quiet as he blocks your fists. Can’t disturb those pesky neighbors.

Bucky shifts left just as you narrowly scrape your right elbow against his shoulder with a high jab from your elbows desperate upper cut, you slide on the hardwood under the false presumption that he’s out of reach when his flesh arm swings out to catch you in your stomach with a loud hollow thud. Ouch!

Instantly your throat emits a strange squeak as you feel the air knocked out of your precious lungs, clearly you had not anticipated this turn of events and neither does Bucky who immediately looks like he just accidentally stepped on a puppies little paw. “Y/N!” Worries Bucky with wide eyes as you keep hunched over, trying to suck in some needed oxygen.

Pulling some air into your lungs, you pretend to hobble over to the couch like a beaten down boxer, “Mm hmgood, yep.” You rasp out, resting your upper half on the couch as Bucky quickly approaches your side. But before he’s able to lay a comforting hand onto your shoulder, you swing a decorative pillow right at his head.

The puffy fabric knocks him onto his ass, earning a surprised grunt in the process as you tower above him, smirking like a trickster goddess over a poor lost and lonely traveler. Bucky rubs his reddened cheek, brows furrowed as he whines, “Y/N.” Like a little child who just got something taken from them by another kid.

Smirking a satisfied grin, you kneel down to meet his level, raising up a hand to gently draw his chin upwards to face you better, “That hurt you dickhead.” You muse as Bucky pouts, “ Y/N, I didn’t mean too..”

“I know.” You chuckle, “Now make it better.” You slyly add with a suggestive implication in your tone that causes Bucky to raise a brow. Letting go of his stubbled chin, you seat yourself onto the floor, facing Bucky as he reaches his metal hand out to pull you in closer to him.

Just about shoulder to shoulder with him, he gently presses his Vibranium hand to your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, soon the two of you lock lips with one another as his other hand snakes around to pull you onto him.

Ever so gently do you follow him to the floor as he continues to passionately make out with you like there’s no tomorrow. Metal and flesh hand feeling you up from your breasts to your bum as you straddle your man, hands trailing through his shortened hair while he fully enjoys this new positioning and turn of events.

Bucky presses wet kisses all around your cheeks and lips while he begins nonchalantly unbuttoning your pants, clearly hoping this will continue further and that all thoughts of those delicious gummy worms are out the door. You won’t lie to yourself though, caging Bucky’s thick torso underneath your opened legs is an admittedly pleasant experience to say the least.

So when he snakes his hands up under your shirt and starts messaging your breasts through the fabric of your bra, your mind begins thinking of some other things a bit more important then some simple treat from the local corner store. He knows just how to turn his favorite lover into a pile of puddy with nothing more then his mouth and fingers. This little shithead isn’t even inside you yet, you’re not even naked for goodness sakes!

But alas, a bet is a bet, and you don’t like to lose. Smirking into the kiss, and holding back a moan as Bucky’s digits squeeze your soft breasts, you tug on his hair before pulling away from his pleasantly inviting lips. Earning a palpable pout of confusion from your man, who’s noticeably grown hard against your bum.

“Y/N?”

“Bucky.” You tease back, imitating his voice once again as he throws you a puzzled look, “Don’t give me that shit Barnes I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what am I trying to do?” Sasses Bucky as he rests his hands onto either side of your hips.

You raise a brow down at him, “These shenanigans.”

Bucky smiles, head falling back onto the floor as he laughs, “That’s not, no I’m not doing any shenanigans I swear....I just, maybe I just want to show my girl how much I love her.” Replies Bucky, though you stay unconvinced.

“We had a deal remember?”

“Yeah well, none of us won so..”

“Oh really?” You challenge, “Then why are you on your back and I’m right here as the victorious one? Who by the way has earned her gummy worms fair and square James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky groans, “oh come on Y/N....I can’t go now. Have some pity on me please?”

“And why not?”

He gently gives your hips an affectionate squeeze, “Because, my beautiful she-wolf who I love so very much and cherish every day of my life forever and alw..”

“Get to the point I want those damn gummies.” You threaten with a stern look though he knows you don’t truly mean it of course, but he has successfully annoyed you. “What is the problem this time?”

Bucky throws you a sheepish grin as he takes one of your hands in his, “Because I’m hard.” Sincere and straight to the point.

Pursing your lips together in amused irritation, you remove his hand from your hip, “Well, you did that to yourself babe I can’t help how amazing I am just existing. Really get over yourself.” You playfully tease before standing above him as his eyes never once leave your beautiful face, “Those gummies aren’t going to buy themselves.”

Bucky sighs dramatically shaking his head as he whispers, “You’re a monster of the greatest evil.” Smiling like a lovestruck idiot despite his neutrally spoken words.

You chuckle, stepping over him to pick up a pillow, “That’s me. Now don’t give me a reason to show you my claws.”

He quickly rises to his full height, another fallen pillow in hand as he tries to hide his hardened member behind it like some shitty magic act, “I’m just, I’m gonna hold this pillow for you. Not important why.”

“Uh huh.” You muse as he watches you clean up Battleship, putting all the pieces away and into the particular box before shoving it underneath the couch. When you go to fold the furniture's decorative blanket, a knock is heard at the door.

“Not it.” Mutters Bucky as you throw him an annoyed glance, already aware of who this is by their familiar scent. You walk over to the door and open it as Bucky hides in the background, pillow still covering his tented crotch.

“Hello Mrs. Brego you need help with your windows again?” You speak in Italian to your neighbor from down the hall. The old woman smiles before giving you a little shake of her head indicating a no.

“No dear, just telling you there’s cops downstairs for that guy from Chicago I think, so if you plan on going out. I wouldn’t choose tonight, the whole lobby is filled with people I think he might have been into drugs.” Warns the sweet old woman as you slowly nod, knowing all to well that Bucky most certainly heard everything.

Faking a smile, you shrug, “Wasn’t planning on going out tonight anyways. Well, thanks again. See you when I see you.” She smiles brightly before turning to walk down the hallway and into her own apartment, you watch until she shuts her door just to make sure nothing bad happens on your time.

Feeling comfortable that’s she’s fine, you shut and lock the door, pursing your lips as you turn around to face a smirking Bucky. He’s still holding the pillow against his junk, but he looks incredibly full of himself standing there with that stupidly handsome face of his. Those eyes. That smile. His body......no, focus.

Bucky goes to open his mouth but before he can say something sarcastic you throw a hand up to stop him, “Not a word.” You deadpan before turning to walk down the hallway, stopping yourself to glance over your shoulder, “Give me five minutes and then you can come to bed. But you better be naked or else.”

Bucky snorts as you practically swagger down the short hallway and into your shared bedroom. Closing the door as you prepare yourself for a late night of adventuring each others bodies.

Oh tonight will be something indeed.

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey @thescarlettvvitch

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #bucky fanfic

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moonknightly · 4 years

Text

and you keep me holding on : santiago garcia x reader (seven)

Word Count: 1.8k+ — a short one today, fellas

Excerpt: “Some nights he goes to the bar and finds a warm body to bring home, one that doesn’t care about the wedding band on his finger or the women’s perfume coating his sheets or that goddamn stuffed wolf that now occupies what was once her side. Some nights he sits on his kitchen floor and drinks himself into oblivion.”

Warnings: I said a few bad words. This chapter is pretty light.

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

OCTOBER THIRD — ZERO

Santiago hates October. He hates October so fucking much, he can’t even put it into words when he’s asked to explain himself after he casually mentions it to one of his co-worker’s, someone who wasn’t around a year before when his entire life went to shit. He hates talking about it, hates thinking about it, doesn’t know how he could even begin to explain it.

So he doesn’t answer. He only shrugs, and rolls his eyes when he looks up and catches the horrified expression on his captain’s face.

Santi’s past the breaking down and the sobbing. He’s past the uncontrollable emotions and the erratic behavior. He doesn’t need people to continue to be so careful around him, he just needs things to finally get back to normal-

He stops before he can continue on with that thought, with that wish, because nothing will ever be normal again. Not like it was, at least. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he has a new normal, a new routine.

He wakes up in his new apartment each morning, fixes the covers and pillows on just one side, makes breakfast for himself and only himself. He showers by himself, pays for one coffee from his new favorite coffee shop. He does the grocery shopping, does the laundry, remembers when the bills are due all by himself, no longer looks to the fridge for a sticky-note reminder. Some nights he goes to the bar and finds a warm body to bring home, one that doesn’t care about the wedding band on his finger or the women’s perfume coating his sheets or that goddamn stuffed wolf that now occupies what was once her side. Some nights he sits on his kitchen floor and drinks himself into oblivion.

That’s his normal. That’s his routine.

He fucking hates it and he fucking hates October, but it’s his life now, and he’s just going to have to get used to it.

And so he ignores the look on his captain’s face, ignores his co-worker’s persistence, and shuts his computer down the second it hits 5 o’clock — another unfamiliar part of his new routine. He’s always off work right on time, hasn’t had a second of overtime since-

He sighs, and pushes away from his desk, shrugging his coat on. He feels like it’s one of those nights where a bottle of whiskey is all the comfort and company he needs. His thoughts, those emotions are getting too close again. He can’t let them get too close.

Santi can’t remember how much is left in the bottle of Maker’s Mark he has at home. He can’t even remember if there’s another bottle tucked away behind that one, so he stops by the liquor store on his way back to his place and grabs three bottles off the shelf. The guy behind the counter recognizes him now, and the judgment in his eyes is always clear, but Santi always ignores it. He pays, and at that point he’s only a few blocks from his apartment, so he walks.

He walks and he doesn’t think about a damn thing. He’s gotten good at that, turning his thoughts off on command.

And he’s so lost in his nothingness he almost doesn’t notice when he gets home and his front door’s unlocked, deadbolt and all.

He’s never left the door unlocked. Not even before.

Santi slowly, silently sets his things down on the ground, and his hand easily finds the gun on his hip. He pulls it from its holster, flicks the safety off, but keeps it aimed towards the floor even though his first instinct is to shoot first, ask questions later. There’s only one person he thinks it could be.

But still, he keeps it pointing downwards, and pushes the door open with the toe of his boot.

The light in the hallway is on, and so is the one in the living room. He always makes sure all of the lights are off when he leaves in the morning, and Santi frowns. If Nathan broke into his place, he’s sure as hell not being subtle about it.

But once he makes it down the hall and into the main living space, he sees Jay standing against the island. Not Nathan. Just Jay.

He should’ve suspected the man with the key first.

“Jesus Christ, man,” he sighs, running a hand through his graying curls. Jay eyes the gun in his hand, like he isn’t surprised to see it pulled on him, and Santi sighs a second time before turning the safety back on and setting the weapon on the endtable by the couch. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Santi heads back to the door to grab his things, and he hears Jay’s shoes hit the hardwood floor as he moves into the living room and sits on the couch. Santi’s eyebrows furrow when he doesn’t say anything, and after he has his whiskey stored away for later, he finally looks at him. Really looks at him.

Jay’s face is pale, eyes a little puffy. He’d been crying, that was completely obvious, and as Santi moves closer, he can tell his hands are shaking.

“Hey, what is it?” Santi asks, sitting on the coffee table, hands resting on his knees as he leans forward.

The other man starts to bounce his leg, his eyes looking everywhere but at Santi. It takes him almost a full minute to finally speak, and when he does, his voice wavers.

“They found her,” he mumbles, a small, humorless laugh following his words. “We found her.”

Santi can tell from Jay’s tone that it isn’t good.

“We got a call from State Patrol earlier, about a girl they found in a ditch on the way out to Montauk. They needed someone to ID her so I went and-”

Santi feels that all too familiar bile rise in his throat, and he’s up before Jay can finish his sentence, running towards the kitchen so he can heave into the sink.

His head’s spinning. His arms and legs feel numb and the panic comes back full force. The pain, the grief, all of it hits him so violently in the chest he forgets how to breathe. It feels like the air had been forcefully knocked from his lungs and he feels like he’s getting ready to black out and-

And Jay knows he’s fucked up.

He quickly moves to Santi’s side and puts his hand on his shoulder, shaking his head almost frantically. “No, no. Santi, listen, hey, we need to get going.”

Santi just looks at him while his chest heaves, while sweat starts to drip down his forehead. “What?”

“I came over to take you to the hospital. Come on, you need to see her.”

Santi looks positively horrified, and it’s been months since Jay has seen him look so close to breaking down.

“You want me to identify her body now? Fuck, Jay, I thought you-”

“No.” Jay cuts him off, shaking his head again, mentally kicking himself for not starting the conversation this way, but to be honest, he still can’t wrap his head around it. He’s still in shock. “Santi, she’s alive.”

“Stop fucking with me man-”

“I’m not!” Jay promises, hands reaching out to grip Santi’s shoulders. He shakes once, twice, then laughs again, but this time, it’s in relief. “She’s alive. She’s alive and we need to get you to the hospital now-”

Santiago does black out.

He doesn’t remember much about the next hour. He doesn’t remember Jay peeling him off the floor when he finally came too, doesn’t remember being dragged downstairs to Jay’s truck, doesn’t remember the drive to the hospital out on Long Island, though he does briefly remember wishing they’d been able to get her back to the city. He trusts the doctors and the nurses at her hospital, wants them to be the ones taking care of her. He wants her closer to home, closer to something, somewhere familiar.

But even so, Santi doesn’t fully snap back to reality until he’s standing in front of Graves, and the numbness subduing his body and mind quickly fades into anger.

He’s so fucking angry. All he sees is red.

“You didn’t call me first? You were supposed to call me first, not anyone else.”

Graves holds his hands up, almost as if he’s afraid Santi’s going to rush him, and honestly? He thought about it.

“We wanted to make sure it was really her before we-”

“You had enough time to send Jay to my place. You could’ve called me at work, fuck, you could’ve just shown up-”

“We didn’t think that was a good idea-”

“Will you two shut up.” Cameron’s suddenly standing between the two, a hand on each of their chests, gently pushing them back from each other. “This is the last thing either of you should be doing right now.”

Santi knows she’s right, it’s the last thing he wants to be doing.

He just wants to see her, to touch her, to make sure she’s really there and breathing. His anger evaporates as quickly as it came, and he can’t pick an emotion to describe the feeling that replaces it.

“Can I see her?” he asks Cameron, coughing gently to hide the way his voice cracks, though she catches it. So does Graves, so does Jay.

Jay turns Santi to face him when neither Cameron nor Graves say anything, and he sighs, taking a moment to think about his words carefully before he speaks. “Santi...listen, she’s been through hell-”

“You think I don’t know that?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “You think I haven’t thought about that every damn day for the last fuckin’ year?”

Jay flinches, but he’s quick to relax. He reminds himself that everyone’s emotions are running high, he shouldn’t take it personally. “I just, I mean...fuck, it’s a lot, okay?”

He looks almost scared, and Santi suddenly understands why he’d acted so scattered back at the apartment.

Santi nods, but doesn’t say anything, mostly because he doesn’t know what to say. He just wants to see her. They all know that.

So Jay leads him down the sterile white halls, and Santi shoves his hands into his pockets. His stomach twists the deeper into the building they get, but he pushes down his fear of hospitals and doctors and instead focuses on the fact that she’s still alive.

She’s alive. They found her. She’s alive.

She’s alive.

Though she doesn’t really look it.

Santi stops the second his eyes fall on her, motionless in her hospital bed, hooked up to different wires and tubes. And just like earlier, it feels like the air has completely escaped his lungs. He thinks he might be sick again.

It’s her. It’s definitely her, but she looks so, so frail — so unlike herself, and though Santi expected it, he’s not prepared for it.

He blacks out again, and just like always, Jay catches him before he hits the ground.

#santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 3 years

Text

Hobbies and Holidays, Or The Halloween Fic

Yes, I know it’s June. I just like Halloween, man. Yuu’s quiet dedication to the finest of holidays sours when confronted with assholes who fuck around for clout.

Contains coarse language, attempted violence, sexuality and nerds being nerds. As always, if you enjoyed it or have any questions, let me know! I like talking with people.

~*~*~*~

"What's cooking?" Ace, cheery as could be, walked his way up towards your set up on the Ramshackle front lawn. "Is it curry? I hope it's curry."

"You might not want to stand downwind." You poked at the bubbling mess on the propane stove, sweat rolling down your back. A beautiful August day, perfect for your project. This sure as hell wasn't something you wanted to do indoors.

"Whaddya mean by that?" The breeze shifted towards him, and he turned an impressive shade of green, stumbling back with his nose covered. "What's in there?"

"Mice. I told you to keep upwind." You went in with a hand strainer, and scooped a pile of tiny bones onto a ratty towel.

"Why are you boiling mice?"

You mirrored his are-you-goddamned-stupid-or-something face back at him. "I wanted the bones. I went to Sam, but he said he's not allowed to order in dermestid beetles after last time, so I gotta do it the old-fashioned way."

"That's absolutely disgusting,” her said, the disgust and disbelief plain on his face.

"Don't we all know. Grimm fucked right off when the ghosts showed me the mouse graveyard."

"And your first thought at a pile of rotten mice was 'ooo, free bones' like some kinda crazy necromancer?"

"Yup." You scooped out another pile of bones. If you left them in there too long, they'd simply dissolve like in a cooked fish. As it was, you'd have to find a way to strengthen them. Maybe dip them in resin?

"Why am I your friend, again?"

"Because you feel responsible for me."

"Yeah. And you're fun when you aren't being weird and doing shit like taking cemetery pictures."

"I'll stop taking the pictures when I stop finding good grave iconography."

"Yeah, weird. I'm going to leave you to be a gross little maggot by yourself today."

"I'm not eating them."

"They're stewing in a pot."

"To get the meat off!"

"Yeah, whatever. See you at supper. I hope you don't stink."

"We'll find out, won't we?" you muttered, sotto voce, but he was already gone.

~*~*~*~

It was a beautiful day in September, and you heard him far before he knew you had. When you turned to look at Idia, floss wound around your fingers, he started. "Is my stealth that bad?"

You gave him the ghost of a smile. "You're not as quiet as you think you are." He hasn't cottoned on that you can hear what's in his headphones, if they aren't set just right on his head, and you aren't about to tell him. The face he makes when you pick him out so easily was too good to lose.

He nodded, fidgeted, looked at the spread on the table. "What are you doing?"

"Well, she's got to dry. So I'm working on this pattern until the top coat goes on."

'She' was a currently eyeless, disembodied head, that you'd picked up along with her body in a second hand store for a pittance. You'd unstrung her, scrubbed her clean, and now were putting on a face to match her sweet if imperious expression, a bratty princess of a girl in miniature. You hadn't realized you'd liked dolls until you'd seen her. But, when you had, your breath fled your throat in the same way it had only once since coming here.

He looked, but knew better than to touch. He did a little bit of craft work himself, mostly model painting, and wasn't about to muss your hard work. "She's... nice?" He didn't quite get the appeal, despite having two vinyl dolls you knew of stowed carefully in their packages under his bed. When you'd asked, he just muttered that they were anime characters and didn't come out except for photos because something something collectibles something resale value. Boys.

"I could do better. But it's enough. Thank you for letting me borrow the painting set up."

"Y... welcome." He squinted at the embroidery, finally noticing something. "Are those bones?"

In the center of each withered, poisonous blossom in your embroidery hoop, you'd stitched a tiny vertebra to serve as the center. "Yeah?"

"Why?"

"Why not?"

He wasn't ready to push it any further. "If you want..." He hesitated, and stumbled, and you waited until he just brought out his tablet to tap it out on a screen instead. "You can come do that in Board Game Club, if you want. There's a window. Azul shouldn't mind."

"I'll join you after I gear up and put the sealant on her. Thank you for inviting me." You gave him your best, most dazzling smile. "You know how much I like when you include me in your stuff. I know it's not always easy for you; how shy you are and all."

He squeaked and looked away, and you continued. "I should be there in about an hour. Make sure Azul doesn't keep up trying to wager me in chess. I can't fucking play worth a damn and he knows it."

He smirked. "He likes easy marks. Maybe try and get goo-"

You flicked a bone at him, and it hit him square on the nose as he yelped.

~*~*~*~

Welcome, October. Coolness and colour, a certain something on the breeze that felt like a home you'd never let go. Even if it hadn't quite hit the dorms the same way as they main area of the school. (Those little fairies that ran the weather machine didn't seem to believe in seasons for the dorms, or perhaps Crowley gave them a chewing out after the spring?) In amongst the Heartslabyul roses, you'd think it was still summer, and you weren't one to let a day of warmth go.

"Oh, in this chapel of ritual, smells of dead human sacrifices from the altar..."

"Stop that."

You looked up at Riddle, who'd found you in your secluded corner. "Why?"

"You can't sing and the lyrics are awful."

"Is there a rule against that?"

He nodded. "The queen gets to approve all music."

"Ah, of course, mine rosen liege. My petaled monarch. Emperor Rosa." A collar appeared on your neck, and you did not slow down. "Cardiac Sovereign. Dauphine De la Coeur. I can do this all day, Riddle; that collar don't do shit cause I ain't magic."

The colour was high on his cheeks. "Is it your job to annoy me?"

"Oh, you got me. I wake up and spend every moment thinking 'How do I best piss off Riddle Roseheart? How about I stand outside his door and blast nightcore from a boombox?' "

He narrowed his eyes at you. "Stop joking."

You laughed. "Yeah. I only do that with Shoenheit."

That managed to get a bit of a smile out of him. "Why are you being a pest over here, and not at your own dorm?"

"I'm just doing crafts, man."

"While sitting on the grass."

"Yeah, man. Won't be any grass to sit on soon enough. Made sure to not be on the croquet grounds or anything."

He looked at the mess of foam and ribbon around you. "What are you even doing?"

You looked down, and back up at him. "Crafts?"

"More specifically, before I kick you out for being awful."

You held up a padded frame, that you were carefully wrapping a satin ribbon around the many bars of it. "What does that look like?"

He just glared instead of admitting he didn't know, so you got to your feet and held the frame over your chest, the shape clarifying by being pressed over what it mimicked. "It's ribs. It'll tie on with more ribbon. Might put beads and stuff on it too."

He looked for a beat before nodding. "For later this month?"

"Indeed."

"... Continue, then. But be quiet!"

He was nice enough to remove the collar before he left, but not nice enough to leave it off as soon as you resumed singing to yourself once you'd assumed he was out of earshot.

~*~*~*~

"Hey, Lil?”

"Yeah?"

You looked over the riot of cheery pumpkins and Far East aesthetics that had sprung from your lawn. "You should've asked me, first."

Lil smiled at you. "But then you would have said no."

"I wouldn't have. But," you guestured to the papier mache dragon, "Really, my dude? This isn't what I would have picked at all. I'm not going to match."

"You're working on a costume? Already?" He lit up. "What's it going to be?"

"You'll see."

"Do I get a costume?"

You looked down at your not-cat. "Grimm, I didn't think you'd want one."

"I do now!" He scrambled to your shoulder and tugged at your hair, wailing. "Costume! Costume!"

You rolled your eyes. "Stop that, before I sell you to Lil to practice recipes on."

~*~*~*~

Grimm was no help. He changed his mind every few minutes on what he wanted. At least your incorporeal roommates were a sweet help, finally gearing him up with a hat by the beginning of the week.

"Do you still need one, Yuu?" The middling ghost, the one neither plump nor skeletal, seemed concerned.

"No, babe. I've been working on this since..." August, you think. "I'm good. I hope I can get a week out of it. I could at least do a different face each day."

Realization dawned across his face. "That's what that was for? I see. I guess you won't need..."

Oh, he made you a costume. Layers and layers of rotten gauze from the curtains, a spindrift take on the bedsheet ghost.

"Hey, I can use this, don't worry. Can you stoke the fire? I've got to dye this to match, I'll need some water boiled."

~*~*~*~

There's too many fucking people. You don't know any of them, they're loud, and they cram in wherever you need to go. But their fussing over you, their asking for pictures is nice. If only...

"Hey, are you lost, kid?" You lean down and reach a hand out to a fearful-looking six-year-old. "I can help you find someone who can help?"

He promptly burst into tears and collided into Floyd as he ran away.

"Hey there itty bitty. You need an adult? Hold on." Even with Floyd... being Floyd, he was a hell of a more welcome sight to the kid, and soon had him balanced on a shoulder to yell for his parents. "Who's under all that?"

"Your favourite shrimp, you overgrown string bean."

Floyd make an o of surprise and flicked the veil up. "It is you under all that! See, kid, She's not scary. She's pretty."

The kid simply eyed him dubiously before going back to trying to wave his parents down to get away from these lunatics.

All your hard work paid off beautifully. A mass of bones, beads and decay, a beautifully jeweled skeleton crowned with a fine halo of gold-and-bone spines and dried flowers. You rattled gently with every step, eyes staring out from a painted skull. They only thing you regretted was Riddle catching you earlier. Even if he hadn't intentionally steered it that way himself, everyone would assume you'd intentionally went to match Heartslabyul. Even more, now that you'd turned those curtains into a veil, even if you'd stuck all the bone and garnet drops you could onto the edges.

"Thank you, Floyd." You leaned up towards the kid. "Didn't mean to scare you, little darling."

The kid just stared at you in fear, and fortunately his parents came along to claim him, leaving you and Floyd by yourself.

"Shrimpie~" He'd scooped you up to replace the kid in his arms before you could protest. "You're so cute like this! Let's go to the alchemy room."

"What's in the alchemy room, Floyd." At this point you were used to him just... hauling you wherever. And you’d found that if you went along with the lighter end of it, he took you seriously when you said no. Weirdo he was, he'd at least gathered that you'd hang out willingly if he didn't push it.

"Oh, well you look so nice! You'll look much nicer in the water tube than the dummy we have in there."

"There are several reasons that can't work, Floyd. Least of it is I only breathe air."

"You're a ghost right now, you don't breathe at all."

"This outfit would not survive a dunking. I'm not sure it'll last the week if I don't repair it every night."

He kept smiling at you. "Even better! Wearing nothing at all on Halloween! Everyone would take even more pictures."

"Yeah yeah, and you have nothing at all in your room if I want to speed that up." You flicked his nose. "Put me down and we can walk over and check how it's going."

"Excuse me?" A stranger. "Can I take a picture of you and your boyfriend like that."

"I'm not her boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend. Go ahead though."

~*~*~*~

"What are you working on?"

Idia's voice was slightly muffled under the pumpkin head. "People kept calling my projection 'cute'. Idiots! They don't know the true fear of Pumpkin Hollow. So I'm adjusting the projection mapping so it's less cute, and more accurate."

"Hm. It seems fine to me as it is."

"You would think that. You don't care if there is a cuteness to things that are scary."

"There's beauty and sweetness in even death." You thought for a moment. "This is for that series you sat me down for? You got mad when I played with the toys?"

"Those. Are. Collecta-" he stopped when he whirled on you, faltering into silence. You really wished you could see the face he was making, he made such sweet faces, especially when he looked at you. You craved them, wanted him to look only at you with those expressions.

You smiled at him. "There's no use in leaving a toy in a box! I don't buy anything I don't intend to play with."

"Ah. Errrrrrrrrghhhmmm." He turned back to his work, took a deep breath, and turned back around. "You watched them, would you give me feedback?"

"Sure. Could you lean down a little?"

He did, and you carefully pulled off the pumpkin, revealing - nothing. No head at all.

You laughed. "Turn that off."

"Why?"

"I just opened your box. Time to play."

He made a strangled noise and started back, looking this way and that. "Right now? Anyone could come in!"

"Just for a moment! How can I give you a kiss if I can't see where I'm aiming?"

His head flickered into view, with a face full of mischief. "... Just one?"

~*~*~*~

"What happened to your makeup?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, model boy." You looked Vil up and down. "You're actually pretty hot like that. It's a miracle."

"Of course you would only find me attractive when I look like a corpse." He rolled his eyes hard enough to sprain. "Do I need to go lie down in a glass coffin too? Stay very still while you actually work up the courage to touch me?"

You snorted. "You wish I would touch you, you overblown jackass."

"With you looking like that? I'd die."

"Bite me, asshole."

"You'd like it if I did."

Your tone grew playful. "Is that a promise for later?"

"Ugh." His shudder was too exaggerated to be anything but an act. "Go ask your ugly little playmate for a bite, we all know what gross shit you get up to."

"You're just mad it's not you."

He pointed a perfectly manicured nail at your painted nose. "You're just mad I want nothing to do with you."

"Then why are you even talking to me?"

"I- why am I talking to you. Go away."

You did, but not before pulling on his cape to wrinkle it.

~*~*~*~

You had a dreadful feeling things were about to get worse. Call it intuition, or paranoia. But with any luck, that would change after a good night's sleep.

(It did not.)

~*~*~*~ These fuckers were getting exhausting. What a grand idea, picking unknown flowers to stick in your hair for selfies! That wasn't an excellent way to come down with a hideous case of contact poisoning at all. You had to swat one girl's hand away from a bed of monkshood, reciting symptoms of aconite poisoning at her until she stalked off in a huff.

And futzing around with the decorations! The only reason you didn't outwardly congratulate Leona on trying to rip apart a bunch of tourists was that murder is supposed to be bad, no matter how irritating and disrespectful the murder victims were. Even you knew better than to go around fondling random ears and tails!

(That's why you'd made the anatomy books in the library your friends. Far more polite than going up to a fellow student and saying, "May I feel around your skull for a few hours to satisfy my scientific curiosity? No one at home has ears like that and I'm very curious about the underlying muscle structures." )

Better see what's going on everywhere else.

~*~*~*~

You got up in tiptoe and lightly touched his arm. "Hey, Floyd?"

"??? Yes, Shrimpie?" His face instantly brightening, he dropped the absolutely delighted Magicammer he'd had pressed to the shelf and turned to you, leaning in as you crooked your finger.

You whispered in his ear, "Why waste magic on them when you can do so much more with your fists?"

He shone like the sun as he pressed his cheek to yours in lieu of something more intimate. "You always know just what to do."

~*~*~*~

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE."

The crowd of idiots instead turned on you with flash photography. "Another ghost! This'll get so many likes!"

"I MEAN IT!" Blinking away the spots from your eyes and casting all good sense to the wind, you grabbed a fire poker from inside your bedroom door and started swinging. They laughed and clapped - and only stepped back when you got the damned thing stuck in the wall while taking a swing.

"What an excellent show!" And more. Fucking. Pictures. How in the fuck Vil deals with this shit without murdering everyone in a hundred-foot radius, you'd love to know.

"I SAID-" yank "GET THE FUCK-" yank "OUT OF MY HOUSE!" The force of finally pulling the poker from the wall sent you careening onto your ass, and Grimm only stopped long enough to laugh at you before resuming his own ineffective charge. You stumbled to your feet, muttering. "Stupid little mother fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking..."

"Oh, it's a chase game! Let's go!" And they all fucking scattered into different rooms as you watched them in disbelief.

"I am going to kill everyone in this building and then myself for good measure."

~*~*~*~

"Leave."

"Aren't you going to scare me, Miss Ghost?" This last idiot was joyfully skipping around a bedroom that you'd had the ghosts empty out, nattering into her phone. A livestream, you think.

You're in you goddamned pajamas. "Sure. We don't use this room because the floor's not sound. Get the fuck out and leave before you fall through to the next floor."

The girl instead started to hop in place. "Oooooo, so scary! You'll have to try better than that!"

You rushed her. You probably would have throttled her (and wound up with a new ghostly roommate in the process) but as she backed up, your leg went through the floor where she'd weakened it, which left her cackling.

"You weren't kidding! Bye now!" And she just fucking left you there like the wretched asshole she was.

~*~*~*~

"I'm so sorry, Yuu."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Mal."

He rested his head on your bare knee and looked up at you. "If I hadn't picked your home as a stamp location, people wouldn't be invading this dorm, and you wouldn't have been injured."

"You fixed me up, didn't you?" He was the one who had pulled you rightways, and shut the scratches on your leg. Of course, he could have left your socks on to do that, but hey, those had been fixed too. You reached down and put your hand on his cheek, rubbing circles by his eye while he stared up at you like an adoring dog.

"This was supposed to be fun for you, so you could have a perfect Halloween."

"That's still a few days away yet. There's still time. And hey."

He blinked up at you as you leaned your face in close, flushing faintly as you did. "Any luck, we'll all make it to November without assault charges."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

You subconsciously growled like a rabid animal as you turned to Lilia with your eye twitching.

"By all the queen's powers." He shrank back. "You alright?"

"Magimons broke the lock on our bedroom and shook her awake last night." Grimm was, by some miracle, in a better mood than you; content to be a comforting weight in your arms and be your anger translator.

"They took," you added, "my groceries."

Lil looked at you in blank shock. "What about the wards on your doors?"

"That's for magic, not fucking morons with no sense of personal space." If you made it through 'til November without actually biting someone's throat out and getting put down like a mad dog, you'd be sincerely surprised. "You of all people should know that."

"Hey, I put them back up after I drop in. You want to go sit with Malleus today? I think you need it."

"Nope. If I snap at him he'll take it to heart. Or just kill everyone who's not staff or student because they upset me."

"No he wouldn't."

"We both know he would."

"He would not because that would be bad press for the kingdom."

"... well, damned if I ever though I'd say this, but thank god for politics."

~*~*~*~

You stare at the empty plinths as everyone started yelling and scrambling. You look to the rubble of the statues, the bases, to Cater, and back to the rubble, nudging what may have once been a staff with you toe.

"And it's not even for a fucking political movement."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu, if we can get rid of the magicam monsters, we can have the party!" Grimm smiled up at you, all sharp teeth and blue eyes. "Aren't you happy?"

You didn't have the heart to tell him that at this point, you'd rather they'd just cancel everything and simply sleep through till All Saint's. Fuck your costume work. Fuck the party. Fuck everything. If you see another jack o lantern you will smash it. Fuck this holiday. You're so tired.

"Yuu, do you have ideas on how to drive the magicam monsters away?"

You stared past Cater's ear because you didn't feel like looking anyone in the face. "Tried to brain a few with a fire poker. Th'just thought it was funny."

This was met with the sound of air sucked through teeth, and a warm hand on your shoulder. "Come with me please!" And Ortho pulled you away with the force of a vaudeville hook.

"You're having a very bad time!" So sweet, so earnest. Right now he was the only person here who could be that chipper and you not want to put their nose out the back of their skull.

You gave him a weary smile. "What was your first clue, honey."

"She keeps kicking in her sleep. When she sleeps. And she's all snappy and horrible!"

You gave Grimm a single light warning shake. "Shut up, Grimm."

"Would you like to stay over so that you can rest properly?" He was hovering directly in front of your face. "Maybe if you're somewhere you won't be woken up, you'll feel better."

You raised an eyebrow and stared over at Idia, who was trying very hard to pay attention to both your conversation and his. "Shouldn't you clear that with someone first?"

Ortho rolled his eyes, the effect on his little boy face frankly hilarious. "Oh, he'd be so upset you have you over. Deeply so. He wouldn't get a wink of sleep with you there." He leaned in. "Except he would, because you wouldn't do anything to keep him up with me there, would you?"

You wheezed. "You think so little of me, Ortho."

"I like you very much even if what you both get up to is gross."

"Of every boy in this school, Yuu. You picked that one."

Ortho glared down at Grimm. "That is my brother you're talking about."

"Stop it. Can we check back in?"

~*~*~*~

"So we're going to run round and scare the piss out of them?"

Jade nodded. "That is the idea, yes."

"... Can I help?"

"Of course, Yuu." Jade smiled his smile that didn't reach more than a millimetre beneath his eyes. "But we've agreed you can't have any blunt objects. For everyone's safety. And the school's reputation, of course.."

"... Yeah, that's for the best."

~*~*~*~

"Can you guys watch Grimm for the evening?"

"Of course." Mal beamed at you from his seat on the Ramshackle steps. "Where will you be that he doesn't want to be?"

"I don't like the horse."

"You ride horses?" Idia was sitting between Mal's legs as Malleus carefully arranged the bright hair into a high ponytail.

"Epel taught me." You paused for a minute. "Do you?"

"Mother made me learn. I haven't in years."

"Makes sense." He didn't like the outdoors, after all. "Mal, how'd you convince him to let you touch his hair? He only lets me do that in private."

"It will look nicer coming out of his pumpkin helmet if arranged higher." Mal crooked his mouth and dragged his lacquered nails along Idia's scalp, making a soft noise when Idia gasped, shivered and abruptly stood up.

"Nope nope nope nope no more of that-"

"May I at least put the elastic in?" Mal held up a black band. "It's fireproof."

He instead snatched it and ran for the library as fast as he could without cracking the armour. You and Mal watched him leave.

"Hm."

"Mal?"

He was still watching the blue light vanish into the distance. "I think I can see the appeal." His dreamy smile gained a sharp edge. "What a delicious sound."

You snickered. "God, I know, right? You should hear some of the other ones I've got out of him."

"You're both disgusting."

~*~*~*~

You hadn't worked out an actual story for this one, just your ghostly roommates and Grimm telling everyone to leave the statues alone. But some asshole, wearing aviator shades and the ugliest piecemeal hoodie you'd ever seen, mounted a plinth to start taking selfies. And once that started, more got the idea, and joined him, trying to nudge the statue away to make room.

So, that's where you came in, pulling into sight at the end of the drive, in tarnished gilt and rotten splendor, jeweled Death on a pale horse.

Sunglasses looked at you and froze, before snapping another picture.

Fucking pictures. You're so sick of pictures.

You snapped the reins and nudged your heels, and who knew anyone on two legs could move that fast? Though potentially being run down by a warhorse was great motivation to move thine arse, as it were. And, thank god, everyone else booked it out the gate after him.

It only took a little maneuvering to lock the gate while still up on a pale horse named Beans, and now? Time to take him to his stable and go the fuck to sleep. Maybe through past tomorrow. Fuck Halloween.

~*~*~*~

You were riding your merry way when a familiar voice called out to you. "You dropped some loot!"

"What did I lose, Idia?" His little speakers mimicking the clang of armour were working overtime as he jogged up beside you. Once he reached you, he held up... a shoe.

"Huh." You looked down, and you had indeed lost a shoe while charging down a bunch of Magicam-obsessed assholes on a warhorse. "Thank you." That's when you gave Idia a level gaze, and stuck you leg out at him.

He swallowed back his noise of shock, and shaking, took your stockinged foot and slid the shoe back into place.

"Good boy."

He was turning from shell pink to a deep red that rivaled the roses in Heartslabyul. But that didn't mean he didn't know how to keep playing when emotions were high. Before letting go, he leaned down and kissed the top of your foot.

Now it was your turn to go red; a wonder the painted skull didn't simply melt off of your face.

~*~*~*~

"Shrimpie~"

You took a breath and prepared yourself. Scoopsies was inevitable.

True to form, Floyd had his whole conversation with you in a bridal carry. "We're gonna have the party!~ We chased them all away!~"

"That's..." Honestly, despite all the rage and pain this week had caused, you were rather happy about the news. "Nice."

"Ah - where'd your face go?" He leaned in, and you stopped him from getting too close with a finger pressed to his lips.

"I didn't feel up to wearing everything." Your embroidered gown and painted skull was replaced with a simple back veil and black dress. "I kind of hate this whole holiday right now and I'm ready to kick the next pumpkin I see."

He nodded, kissing your fingertip as he did. "I can help you after. But we need this all for the parade." He brightened. "You should paint up and get on the horse again for it!" He smiled, full of dreamy fondness and not a small amount of hunger. "I heard what you did to the magicam monsters... I wish I could have seen."

"Hey, I heard you didn't do too badly yourself." You leaned in conspiratorially. "Anyone pee themselves?"

He smiled like the sun post-eclipse. "Yup!"

~*~*~*~

Epel had been nice enough to help you kit out Beans in a fancy black harness, so in amongst the crowd of costumed students, you were both equally eye-catching. And hell, pictures weren't so bad right now. People were keeping a distance, murmuring to each other as they aimed their cameras. You thought you were getting a dirty look or two from Vil for stealing his thunder, but he had himself on the prow of a ship! It wasn't comparable.

"So," you said, leaning down a little, "How are you handling this?"

Idia looked up at you, you thought. "The mask makes it easy. They're looking at the costume, not me."

"I'm glad it helps. I wish you'd take it off, but you being comfortable is more important."

"What? You want me to ruin the effect by taking the mask off? Clearly you have no respect for the holiday." His voice had the sweet, bubbling quality that came when he was excited and happy, and it warmed you to hear it.

"Oh, no, of course not. But why would I want to taste a plastic kiss,” you said, reaching a hand down to run the trailing ribbon of his hair through your fingers, “when I could taste you instead?"

You had to give him credit, he only faltered for a moment before continuing. "Right now? In front of everyone?"

"I would if you'd let me, right now." You lowered your voice. "And worse."

He stifled a groan and only walked funny for another ten minutes.

~*~*~*~

"I thought you didn't like horses." The stables were in sight, but Idia had turned up, surprising you.

He rolled his eyes, and held his arms out. "Dismount, fair maiden."

What.

"I mean it. Your Pumpkin Knight awaits."

You shook your head, voice soft. "Baby, no."

"I'm trying to be romantic. Like your novels."

"Idia."

He stared back at you, sour-faced. "What."

"I outweigh you by at least sixty pounds."

"I can do this. I carry Ortho around all the time."

"Ortho's chassis is mostly fibreglass and aluminum. I can carry Ortho. I think Grim could carry Ortho."

He took a step forward. "Do you want me to leave you on the horse or not."

"His name is Beans." But, you managed to dismount into Idia's arms, where he stood stock-still and trembling.

"Kkc."

"Babe? Put me down before your back goes out."

His knees gave out first, and he crumpled beneath you as you both yelped.

"You alright?"

"hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

You crawled off his chest and he could actually breathe again.

"Better?"

After a few breaths, he managed a weak smile. "Maybe kiss it better."

Beans beat you to it, snuffling at Idia's face to make sure he wasn't dead.

~*~*~*~

You are not much of a party person. You like them, but the ideal party is a few friends hanging around in the same room, chatting at a reasonable volume and then going home to go the fuck to sleep. This was a little much.

But you know what this party had that you hadn't seen in what felt like years? Cute girls. In cute costumes! You've been flirting your ass off, with decent success; it turns out that the Magicam Live you did with Vil weeks ago had paid off in the form of smiles and fluttered eyelashes as girls crowded around you to hear tales of how fucking obnoxious you could be in this school and get away with it because you had friends in high places.

At least, until you caught something out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped. "Hey, I gotta check on someone - raise your hand if you like boys. Okay, you see -" You stopped and pointed at your poor, unsuspecting target. "With the blue-black hair and the painted spade? That's Deuce, he doesn't know how to talk to girls worth a damn, so give him some slack. But he's a sweetheart, you won't regret it."

"What about the redhead?"

"Ace is a prick but he's delightful. Chat him up too." With that, you went to check on Idia, huddled into a corner after an attempted force-feeding.

"You alright, babe?"

He nodded. "They're too much. But I'm alright now."

You leaned back against a nearby chair, looking him up and down. "You sure you aren't going to eat anything? I don't think anyone's going to care too much if you have your face out."

He remained completely still, and you realized you could hear a faint whirring. "Idia. Have you been using the robot double all evening."

"... I swapped out ten minutes ago."

You made a noise and he flinched. "I was going to swap back in after it calmed down!"

"... No you weren't."

"Okay, no I wasn't. But I was there for a while. I have proof, I brought plates back with me."

"You could have just told me. It's been a hell of a lot for you, I know what you're like."

Idia - well, his robotic avatar - shrugged. "If you're going to lecture me... come by and do it here."

You stopped. "You really want me to yell at you in person?"

"I want you to come by. If you want. You can stay as long as you want... if you want. I have snacks, and movies, and games that even you could play."

You snorted. "Oh, the siren call of a fucking nerd trying so hard to woo his chosen..."

"I changed my mind actually, you can't come."

"Aww."

"... That's a lie." He paused. "You can even take the Yume Twins out."

Those vinyl dolls he never let you touch. You throw your veil back and kissed the stupid plastic pumpkin head. "It's a date."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

You peered at Malleus from around a stack of Tupperware. "Mal?"

"You.. enjoyed it all, despite everything?"

"Despite everything." You hefted the stack towards him. "Would you like to help? I want to grab stuff from the party that'll keep at room temperature."

He absently flicked a finger, sending the dishes swirling around to settle in a stack in midair, before placing a hand on your shoulder. "I have a... request."

"Anything," you said, and you regretted saying it as his breath hitched.

"Would you..." His voice faltered, and instead he simply wrapped you in a tight embrace, leaning down to bury his nose in your hair. You could feel him, chest heaving, scenting your greased hair through tulle, murmuring something against your scalp.

"Malleus."

He stopped, but did not move.

"No spells."

"You would not forgive me if I tried." You could feel his smile against your hair.

"I would not." You pulled back enough to look at him, and nearly froze at his besotted gaze before he schooled it into his more usual face. "Mal, you know you only feel this strong because I'm your first friend, right?"

"Does it matter? It is sincere."

And that makes it so much worse. "You know I don't feel about you like that."

"..." The grief that flickered across his face was enough to shatter a stone heart. "To stand with you and hold you is enough."

And they said fairies can't lie. They could, they were just terrible at it.

"You said you were going to ask for something?"

"... Not anymore. I doubt you would give it."

He vanished into thin air in a swirl of wind, and the Tupperware clattered to the steps, the spell holding them gone.

~*~*~*~

The nice thing about Idia's room is that, being a prefect, he had an attached bathroom to scrub the paint off of your face. It was a monochrome murder in the sink, splatters of grey with the occasional pinprick of red where you'd disturbed the new bumper crop of pimples from painting up as a skull for a week. Thank fuck that was over with. Even if the day proper had been lovely, the events of the week had thoroughly soured you on Halloween.

"You alright?" Idia poked his head in, long since divested of armour.

"Yup. How'd you get that shit off so fast? You got a suiting-up machine hidden somewhere?"

"It's less complicated than you'd think. Cosplay magic."

"That's nice. Unbutton me."

"... wha."

You looked at him via the mirror, meeting his wide eyes and shimmying in place. "Unbutton me. I can't reach them all myself."

"How'd you get that on every day?" He hesitantly walked behind, eyeing the row down your back as though it would burn him at the touch.

"I have roommates, remember?"

"Mmh." He finally undid the first three, before flicking his gaze back to yours in the mirror. "A... Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't ask, otherwise." You kept looking, as he took a breath and resumed. "Idia."

He paused.

"Keep going, I'm just going to chat at you for a bit." Two more. "You know I..." How to phrase this. "I don't intend to stay mint on card forever, you know. You can take me out and play."

He twitched, but kept going. "Maybe I don't want to damage you. There's only one of you, after all."

"I'm not so breakable." You had one side of you face completely clear, the other still smeared grey in the creases. "Would you rather stay mint condition, yourself?"

"..." He took a moment to gather himself, staring at the exposed skin of your back. "Maybe I want to... admire a bit. Get to know my- your- Uh."

You waited with a soft smile, until he found the words. "No one said you have to play straight away when you take something out of the package. Right?" He placed an experimental hand on the expanse of flesh between bra band and waistband, and did not draw away.

"Right."

"... Maybe I just want to hold you a bit before we play."

What a sweet boy you had. "Take all the time you need to. Even if we never play like that, I like you. Spending time with you is what I want."

You could see the motes of pink flickering through his hair. "Can I hold you now?"

"Of course."

He slid his hands under your dress, around your waist - then grabbed your soft, flabby tummy in both hands and squeezed. "Soft~"

You squealed with laughter. "What are you doing?"

"It's bare skin that's neutral territory," he huffed, before hugging your back to him and resting his chin on your shoulder. "And it's warm, too."

"Not so much as you. Keep me warm, will you? It's getting so damned cold at night."

He buried his face in your hair. "I can do that."

~*~*~*~

You woke to someone banging at the door.

"Son of a bitch." You managed to free yourself from Idia's sleeping grasp and make it to the door as a familiar voice started up. "Shroud, your tin can brother's already helping with clean-up, if you skip out because of a stupid game I will-"

You opened the door and looked levelly into Vil's face, which twisted in surprise. He gave you a once over (unshaved legs, mussed hair, boxer briefs from the men's section and a blue-black striped shirt that was clearly not yours) and then peeked over your shoulder at Idia (dead asleep, smiling faintly, possibly naked under the blankets). He kept looking between the two of you with increasing disbelief and horror, until he stepped back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Good for you."

"Thanks." Your face still hadn't changed.

"It's twelve thirty. If you're not both out helping clean up by three, I'm telling everyone."

"That's not much of a threat."

"Maybe to you. Shroud!"

Idia shuddered awake, bleariness washed away by terror as he saw Vil in the door and covered himself in the blankets.

"Be out helping cleanup by three or I'm telling everyone exactly why you're late." With that, he stalked off and you shut the door, mirroring his nose pinch.

"Dramatic bastard, ain't he? Even when he's being nice."

"How is that nice?" He only stopped shivering when you sat back down on the bed.

"Two and a half hours, Idia."

He blinked at you.

"How much can we do in two and a half hours?"

Realization dawned, and he started snickering as he dragged you in close.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #idia shroud #malleus draconia

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

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Fabulous Friday Evenings

Summary: You were having a really bad day. Conner decides to help cheer you up and make sure your drunk ass doesn’t face plant on the side walk.

masterlist

word count: 2,652

a/n: Special thanks to @anothertimdrakestan for helping with the ending and helping with editing! Love you, Elle!

warnings: alcohol and swearing and author does not know how alcohol works. No one is under the drinking age. This may benefit from more editing.

"Mosht people are jusht the careful scaffolding of complexshesh," you slurred, your face red, head half buried in your arms, and golden ear cuffs winking under the dim bar lights.

"You somehow still sound like a fucking nerd even you're when drunk," Conner laughed throwing his head back, handsome face stretched with a cheeky smile. "You look like a mess," he said softly, reaching out for your cheek.

"Fuhk you! Not eberyone can be born too pretty for their own guhd- how did yah evehn know I was here? It was Tim wasn't it! "

"Good guess buuuut it was actually Bart" Conner explained casually taking a seat next to you as you lifted your head momentarily before plopping it back down to stare at the amber gloss of the drink. The light from the ceiling seemed to dance so elegantly in your eyes even as you wrinkled your brows. "That rat," you cursed miserably into your arm.

Across from you, a pretty brunette shot you two a wink and without looking you could tell Conner flirted in kind. Normally, you'd have the audacity to steal the girl's attention away before Conner could even make a proper move but tonight you were in absolutely no mood to be charming. In fact, you were sloshed. You didn't know whether it was the fourth or fifth drink that did it but there you were sitting next to one of the most attractive people he knew with your makeup smeared and eyes still swollen and puffy. You kind of just want a portal to open up and swallow you.

The brunette made a motion to her friends which indicated that she was gonna try her luck and you wished her the best of luck. You bit your soft lips before pressing them into a pout. It took everything in Conner not to kiss you on the spot. Be the responsible one they said. It would be fun, they said.

"We should go. You're-"

"Have fun," you said, patting him on the shoulder, cutting him off curtly; placing some cash on the bar before leaving. The buxom brunette approached Conner placing a hand on the shoulder you’d just touched moments before. He didn’t seem to notice her, his mind still lingering on the warmth of your hand. Before she can say anything, he pivots and runs towards you .

The casual slump in your shoulders in place of your usual elegance was a pretty good indication that you would probably fall in a gutter before you got home. Conner highly doubted you could see straight.

"I can’t believe Roz let you get this sloshed without checking on you," He joked bringing one of your arms over his shoulder and slinging his own arm around you for balance. You walked like a newborn horse. It was incredibly embarrassing and you wanted to die. Conner, on the other hand, just found it incredibly hilarious.

"She's out getting into her own brand of sloshed at a bachelorette party,"

"Huh. Didn't know she was the wedding type. Thought she hated going to those,"

"She's the stripper," You deadpanned, sounding abnormally sober. With that Conner let out a genuinely hearty laugh. You would trade all the martinis, dackories, and margaritas in the world just to get drunk on that laugh.

"That reminds me," Conner drawled, adjusting his hold feeling just how shaky you were from the late October Metropolis weather pressing you closer to his warm body. You kind of wanted to melt into his side but you had too much pride. "Bart never said why you were out here getting shit faced," You frowned at him but couldn't really muster any sharpness into your expression.

There were lots of reasons to get 'shit faced' even in shiny Metropolis. You twitched your nose and mouth side to side gathering the makings of a sentence. Where do you even start? Your little sister got suspended, your mother (who somehow found out you were in Metropolis) is either demanding money or for you to drop everything to go back home to help around the house (translation: help out with the bills while babysitting your siblings), Bats and some other league members were on your ass for the last mission (probably the only thing on this list you found reasonable), this morning, you got fired from your library job so they could hire Marco's girlfriend (who is in fact a perfectly nice person which means you can't really hate her), or the dozens of little annoyances such as Bart not being able to keep his trap shut.

"This week was just a little much,"

A long moment of silence passes between you. Uncharacteristic for Conner but it was cute that he thought silence would make you fess up.

"You know I could have gone home on my own. That brunette looked like she was up for a good time,"

"Yeah right. Also you're welcome."

"You're right. Thank you for getting blue balled this fine evening to escort me" you didn't want to be prickly but Conner was being too nice and that made your skin crawl. Why couldn’t he be mean to you right now like a normal person?

"First off, she wasn't even my type-" You raised a brow.

"Kon, her tits were the size of Jupiter-"

"Did you really just say 'tits'?"

You threw him a scowl clearly sobering up from irritation.

"Shut up. Point iiiis, you didn't have to-"

"You just said-"

"Oh for the love of- yes, I said tits. Speaking of which you should be staring at some instead of having to lug my sorry ass around on this fabulous Friday evening." Your hand fluttering, gesturing vaguely in the air.

"Eh. There'll be other Fridays" Kon shrugged. Pulling you closer and some selfish part of you felt relieved.

----------

Much to your surprise (you really ought not to be), Roz wasn't home yet which meant you had to dig out the keys from the secret hiding spot- another hassle. You reached out peeling a hilariously well concealed hole in the wall and fished out the set of jingling keys. Conner looked like he was between amusement and bewilderment. Good enough. At least, this stopped Conner's 30 minute TED Talk about the new 70s sitcom he'd found.

You two entered the shoe box apartment clumsily thanks to your disastrous limbs.

You blew out a breath and muttered a thanks as Conner helped you plop onto the couch. Though, it was more like gravity decided to magnetize your body to the couch and Conner just let it happen.

You shut his eyes for a moment wrapping a ragged blanket around you. You made a mental note to raid the thrift store for a new one. Preferably one void of holes.

"So what's up and don't you dare say it was nothing. I've never seen you this hammered before," He said handing you a mug of steaming hot chocolate.

"Does it occur to you that I might get hammered like this often and you might just not see it? Who knows maybe I'm actually a functional alcoholic?"

"Ok, first off, you are barely functional. Second, that might be your weakest deflection yet. Try again,"

"Ok... did it occur-"

"I didn't mean it lite- just tell me what happened. Everyone's worried,"

You stared at the steam rising from the fresh cup of cocoa. It was none of Conner's business. It was no one’s business. Your friends were too goddamn nice. Blowing out another breath, you said "You might wanna sit down too,"

Conner takes his own mug of hot cocoa and sits next to you because for some reason eye contact made you a better liar and Conner for all his dumb decisions wasn't gonna let you off the hook that easily. You shifted uncomfortably and muttered about either Cassie or Roz ratting you out. He assumed it was the eye contact thing. Conner felt a little offended. He might not be Tim but he’s smart enough to figure it out on his own. Despite his hurt feelings and bruised ego, he decided to table that and focus on the current issue or, likely, issues.

"Do you want it in alphabetical order?"

"Please tell me you can actually do that," Conner teased with a wide grin. You couldn’t fight off a smile forming on your face. "Sadly, I am not Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. My brain cells work like a normal person's,"

"Didn't you die?"

"Death only fixes stupid when you stay dead. You've seen Red Hood and whichever other Ex-Robin has been to the pearly gates,"

"You say that as if Jason wouldn't tell the big man to fuck off,"

You blinked and turned your head up to the ceiling. "Ok that's true," You conceded, your mouth twitching rapidly from side to side making you look like an exasperated rabbit. Cute.

"So what's up?"

All the good mood from the past few minutes dissipated in an instant. You looked down solemnly at the still steaming mug. You were silent for what felt like an eternity.

"It's family- Immediate. And the source of all evil-"

"Lex Corp?"

You snorted a shy tired smile cracked across your face. You shook your head. Those little gestures just make Conner feel a little warmer. You, on the other hand, cursed at how easily Conner could make you laugh. You were supposed to be sad damn it.

"Money," Conner knew immediate family was always a sore spot for you. No one knew the specifics except Roz but that was inevitable when you're cousins. Money was also a sore spot and based on your near dead tone. You’ve either lost a lot of it or you’re in a tight spot but not ready to elaborate.

"Wanna try buying a lottery ticket?"

"What?"

"Who knows you might get lucky?"

"You could have gotten lucky you if you-"

"Are you seriously gonna keep bringing that up?"

"Yes, most likely. Depends,"

"On what?!"

"On whether I can think of something funnier to give you shit about or if you can convince me-whatever the fuck you're thinking of doing stop!"Conner's cheeky grin did not disappear nor did the faint flush on your cheeks.

"I wasn't thinking of anything, you sick pervert" he laughed. You really should have been exasperated with Conner. You tried damn it. You looked at him skeptically before violently letting his head rest on Conner’s shoulder causing the other boy to fall over.

"Aaaaaaawwwww babe , if you wanted to cuddle you could have just said so,"

You wanted to. In fact, both of you wanted to. But unfortunately neither of you were martian and neither of you was willing to say jack. You closed your eyes trying to pretend Conner wasn't a little shit. Conner radiated too much smug for that though.

"Shut up," You mumbled into Conner's shoulder already feeling sleep pull him under. You clung to him. Maybe just for tonight you can indulge in this. Just for a little while you can cling to Conner's warmth. Maybe in the morning your head will ache too much to remember this. Waking up alone wouldn't be too painful then. Hopefully.

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

You woke up feeling like a troop of Can Caning hippos decided to host a live performance all over your head. You sighed remembering that you had in fact run out of Aspirin just days before so you decided on just lying there and praying that Roz also needed Aspirin and had more energy to run to the store.

You settled in nuzzling in to the warm-

Wait. It was October.

Nothing in the apartment should be warm.

NOTHING.

Then, you heard it. A LOUD snore. It honestly sounded more like the roar of an engine than anything. Everything else followed. The slow rising and falling of the chest beneath you, the press of stubble against your forehead, and the strong arms loosely wrapped around you.

Yeah. You died again. Yeah. You finally went to heaven. Yup. You were ok with that. You were definitely 100% A Ok with this if this was heaven. Being held tenderly by the guy you liked while you got a good night’s sleep was definitely heaven. God, you were such a sap.

How the hell you missed all of that baffled you.

Oh wait. Dancing hippos. Fuck.

Your head felt like it was threatening to crack open but somehow you honestly could not mind even if you tried. You were laying on top of a hot (literally and metaphorically) guy mutually cuddling. You nuzzled into the junction between Conner’s neck and shoulder in an attempt to steal more warmth. Sure, you were probably gonna go deaf from the snoring. Sure, you were definitely irritated by the stubble pressed against your face. And sure, you would probably die of embarrassment once Conner woke up. You could worry about all that later. All you could think about was how nicely your arms fit around Conner’s neck and how Conner’s arms wrap around you a little tighter in return.

Click.

You could hear the distinct sound of your own camera shutter. Each sound chipped away at your peace of mind. You lifted your head only to see Roz holding your camera.

TAKING PICTURES.

Your cousin was nothing if not a petty opportunist.

“I would tell you to get a room buuuut the only bedroom iiiiis preeeeeeetty occupied,” Roz drawled smugly way too pleased with herself. You opened his mouth to ask but you’d already made the mistake of walking in on Roz and a guest once and you were pretty sure you needed more therapy for that than you did for your murder. You just sighed as Roz took another picture.

“Come on, (y/n), smile a little,”

“I’m not smiling for your blackmail material,”

Roz gasped trying to sound scandalized. She failed, only sounding amused beyond belief. “It’s only blackmail if you’re ashamed of it. Personally, I think you’re scoring big time,”

“Roz please just fuck off before you wake him up,”

“Too fuckin’ late for that. He’s been awake for awhile,”

You could feel Conner smiling into your hair and his arms wrap around you a little tighter. You tried to straighten up. To tower over him. To look intimidating.

But…. you couldn’t. You were kind of trapped because, yanno, super strength.

You were seething and threw a scowl at Conner who only chuckled at you in response.

“You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” You snarled, clearly exasperated and feeling the hippos start their encore performance.

“ Mmmmmm, it depends,” Nope. The hippos did not only come back for an encore. They brought friends. Based on the absolutely smug look on Conner’s face, you were in for an entire parade.

You let out a breath not sure if you wanted to play this game but not really seeing any other options. “On what?“

Conner paused and hummed and hummed and hummed some more as if he was actually thinking but you knew from the crook of his lips that he had this planned out. Maybe not this exact scenario but something close“Go out on a date with me,”

You blinked then rolled your eyes theatrically enough that your head rolled along with it. “And be seen with you in public?” You teased, an almost sheepish smile tugging at your features.

Yeah, Conner wasn’t exactly expecting you to say yes.

“Yeah. Sure. Why not?” You said playing it off as casually as possible but you couldn’t help but mirror the absolutely goofy grin plastered on Conner’s face. His happiness was infectious. You felt weightless. It was probably the fact that you were floating with him but you were pretty sure you were just on cloud nine. You were doomed. Definitely, inevitable, indubitably doomed. Even though everything has been shit up to now. The happiness radiating off of Conner was enough to make everything feel a little better.

Thank you so much for reading!

tag list:

@idkmanicantenglish

@batarella (I thought you might like it?)

#conner kent x reader #conner kent #conner kent imagine #My writing #dc fanfiction #DC comics #kon el x reader #kon el imagine

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

Away for a Moment

Here’s a smattering of feelings. It’s self indulgent af and sad. So yeah. No specific race or gender of reader.

Calum didn’t think missing you would hurt this much.

Find Part 2 Here

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You can support me on kofi

You weren't gone gone. Calum could pick up the phone, tap on your last message to him and pull up your number. He could call. He could lay in bed with the phone pressed up to his ear and wait for your voice to float in through the other line. It would be easy, so damn easy.

But he knows if he did you wouldn't be able to answer right away. It's barely evening. The sun has just started to caress the horizon through his windows. But you hadn't sent another message to let him know that you had gotten back to your apartment from training. Calum figures that maybe you spent a few extra hours out to get some work done and doesn't want to disturb you.

It's just not the same anymore without you. His bed isn't full like it used to be without you. His kitchen isn't full of music and dancing, and cooing at Duke like it used to be without you. And it's entirely selfish Calum knows the way his fingers ache to craddle your face and the way he wants to tell you to stay with him.

Staying with him would make him miss you less. Staying with him would ensure that the house never feels empty. But having you stay doesn't ensure your dreams. Staying with him means a very real possibility that all the opportunities that you had worked so hard to find would pass you by. Calum can't ask you to stay, but he wishes he had spent more time memorizing the way your shampoo smells fresh from a wash. He wishes he had recorded more of your breakfast concerts.

Still working hard or hardly working? Calum hits send on the text, sitting up on the bed. Everything in him wants you to come bursting back through that door. Everything in him wants to kiss your lips one more time and savor the taste of your fruity gum--a habit you picked up to replace the nervous nail biting.

Everything in him wants his goddamn phone to buzz. But it doesn't.

Calum pads into the music room and office. Duke's still on the couch and Calum's not sure when the old man wondered into the room or why Duke hadn't traveled away from the couch just yet. As he gets closer to the couch, Calum sees what Duke's curled up on--your sweatshirt from your alma mater. The one you couldn't find as you were unpacking boxes and sorting out your closet.

Calum reassured you that you had packed up most of your clothes and that it would turn up eventually. Attempting to move anywhere in a weekend always seemed better in theory, but when training got moved up--you had to get into high gear. Packed to the hilt in his SUV, Calum and you set out for a cross state trip. It was only a few states over. Only put you an hour ahead of him. He could pick you up or you could take the train or a plane for cheap back to LA.

He had already planned to visit you. He said it jokingly to you, but he had cleared his schedule for early October to come visit just for a weekend. He planned that for most of it, you'd be holed up studying or grading papers, but at least for a few hours in the small blimp in time the two of you could sight see and just get fucking lost for once without worry.

Calum snaps a picture of his old man curled up on your old sweatshirt and sends it. I found where that sweatshirt went. I think I'm going to have a hard time convincing him to let me ship it you.

Calum settles onto the rolling chair, staring at Duke and out the window beyond. How could he miss you so fast? It was only a week. Just a week ago he was rearranging sofas and building bookshelves and unfolding your clothes while you put them all on hangers. Just a week ago you were navigating him to the Wal-Mart, Target, Bed Bath & Beyond, Best Buy, Burger King, Chipotle, and Chilis laughing as you confused your right and left for the millionth time.

Just a week ago when you tapped on the wrong Wal-Mart because it was the first one that Maps showed you. Just a week ago the two of you were laughing, curled up under your new bedsheets. "You're gonna leave me for two years, and I can't believe it," he whispered. You had fallen asleep, the fan in the corner of your bedroom blowing a constant stream of cooler air onto the both of you.

And how could Calum say that he couldn’t believe you were leaving him when he left you all the fucking time? How much of a fucking hypocrite could he be to say that?

He tried to reason with himself. Even though Calum left, he always knew he’d be coming back to you. He knew you’d always be there. And now, his home is across state lines. His house doesn’t feel like his house anymore because he had built a home in you and now you’re not here anymore. This physical building doesn’t really mean jack shit to him anymore with you. And sure it was only two years; it was only two years in total that you’d be away from him. And sure the degree was practically paid for, and sure, Calum couldn’t keep you from chasing your dreams.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss you while you were out there soaring.

Was this how his mum felt when he left at sixteen? Did she have a strange bubbling mixture of sadness and pride? Because that’s surely what’s brewing in the pit of Calum’s stomach. That mixture is what makes his fingertips ache.

There’s still no new message from you. Calum drops his phone to the desk with a clatter, burying his face into the palms of his hands. “God, I should’ve moved with them,” he mutters into the open air.

The two of you had this conversation a thousand times over. You didn’t want him to move because what would the other guys to music wise while Calum was with you? And what about Duke? And would Calum sell his house or keep it while renting something else for those two years? Your life was a little easier to uproot, since you knew you’d be coming back. This is just a step into the world that you wanted and you didn’t know where it was going to take you from there, but Calum couldn’t be his life on pause.

It’s like bile in his throat. The way the tears are stinging his eyes and his throat starts to burn. The tears are silent. Just the upturn of his lips and the sting of hot and salty water down his cheeks. The amount of things that can change a week are unbelievable and Calum’s not sure how he’s going to make it another eleven months and three weeks.

His shoulders shake. The heels of his palms don’t do a damn thing to hold back the tears. You’re not gone. He can pick up his phone, tap onto the last message he sent you and pull up your number. He can call. He can sit in this office chair with the phone pressed to his ear and wait for your voice to float in through the other line.

Calum’s phone finally shakes, it buzzes for a long interval, stops, and then starts again. He’s quick to wipe his hands onto his sweatpants and flip over the device. He taps to answer the call and his phone chimes, the video of you bouncing down a sidewalk fills the screen. “Hey, Cal. Sorry, I hung back to chat with some other student teachers. I think I could shit a brick right now. But I hear a certain old man’s hogging my favorite sweatshirt.”

Calum sniffles, wiping underneath his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah, that would be Baby Grandpa snuggling up with it.” He’s relieved to see you, to hear the chirp in your voice when previously you cried into your dinner just a week before moving because of the nerves and anxiety.

Calum’s praying his voice isn’t too croaky, that it doesn’t give him away. But he knows it well. And when your pinched brows and concerned flooded eyes land onto the screen, Calum knows you know.

“Babe, you alright? Looks like you’ve been crying?”

“I’m-yeah, no, I’m okay. I’m happy to see you.” If he can change the subject he doesn’t have to explain why he keeps sniffling. He doesn’t have to explain why his eyes are no doubt red.

“Angel, please don’t do that. Tell me what’s wrong.” The white cord of your headphones bounce and he can hears your harsh exhales. And it only reminds him that you’re not here.

“I miss you.” It’s just one sentence; it’s only three words. But it makes his chest feel like it’s been punched in. It feels like someone’s pulling his spine out through his diaphragm.

You pause, taking in his red eyes and the wobble of his chin. And you know. You know he didn’t want to admit it, but there was no way to hold it in anymore. “I’m sorry, Calum. I miss you too. I miss Duke. I miss you grumbling that I’m too happy at seven in the morning.”

Calum exhales a little, a small bit of laughter following after it. “Breakfast sucks with you. And I know this is what you have to do for yourself. I can’t stress how proud I am of you for doing this. But fuck, I didn’t realize it’d be this hard.”

People pass you by. Calum can hear them, the muffled parts of their conversation coming through your mic. You are so far away and it’s killing him. Two years. Two years of the two of you building up a relationship in tiny corners and through handwritten letters and stolen kisses and in text messages. Two years and you had cracked the defenses Calum had and he didn’t want to let you go.

“I’m coming back, my love. There’s weekend trips and school breaks.”

You get it though. There was a year where Calum was just gone. He was bouncing between time zones and when he did come back home he was prepping for the next leg of a tour, the next leg of promotion, the next part of something. And it’s so hard to create a new routine initially. It’s hard to regulate who you are on your own.

“I feel like a hypocrite. Because I left. I don’t know. I feel untethered.”

You nod. “I understand that. It’s an adjustment, a huge one. It’s okay to feel a little unraveled.”

“And I don’t want to add onto your stress. I know it’s not easy.”

“I’m here for you. You know that. Who’s answered your calls at 2 am before?” Calum doesn’t respond. Can’t as another wave of emotion rocks his core and he rolls his lips over his teeth to swallow back down the emotion. “And who do you think is going to be there to answer your call again at 2 in the morning? Or 3? Or 6 in the morning? At noon? At 6:37 in the evening? It’s gonna be me no matter what.”

Calum reclines his head into the cushion of the seat. It’s always been you. You’ve always been there when he needed it. And even if you are miles away, you still responded. You still called back.

“Thanks,” Calum says. His chin still wobbles. He blinks back the rest of the tears. “So tell me about it. What did you do today? We can talk after you have some food.”

The world continues on about you. More people pass you by and you watch Calum. His eyes are still painted red. But his voice doesn’t break like before. It’s a bit of a breeze so you settle onto the bench for the bus even though you can hear it coming down the street. A strong breeze creates static in your mic for a moment before your voice comes in clearer.

“We went over one of the assignments in depth that we have to teach. Met some other student teachers. I talked to my faculty mentor about my course schedule and work schedule and they said that I probably should let myself go easy this first semester.”

“So you did drop a class?”

You nod at Calum’s question. The bus rolls to a stop in front of you, but you don’t look up from your phone. “I did. I was scared to because I really wanted to take that class. But I heard it’s also offered in the spring, so I enrolled for it then.”

“Is it with a different professor? Or the same one?”

“Different one.”

The conversation flows until your bus comes back around again and you know you have to take it this time. But you keep Calum on the line. And he’s just watching, with his elbows on the desk and his head supported by his palms, he watches you. And it’s nothing glamorous as the bus rattles and shakes. Your phone lays in your lap, cradled in your hands. Occasionally, you glance down to cross your eyes and stick out your tongue at him and he hums his laughter.

It’s the little things. Like watching the way your head reclines into the window or how you just know when to pull for your stop. And as you walk down blocks and stop to wave at a dog as the owner jogs past. And Calum knows he’s not there with you. He knows that you’re not walking up to his door, but maybe all he needs are the little things with you.

“What’s for dinner?” he asks as you step into your apartment.

“Literally it might be hotdogs because I’m mentally exhausted.”

“You need a veggie too.”

You laugh, keys hitting the counter. “I won’t forget a veggie. I’ll call you back in a bit, yeah? After I eat and get some homework done.”

“Okay. Can that be a daily thing? Just so I know you get back home safely.” It’s soft as he asks, unsure if it makes hims sound overbearing or not.

“Sure. Once I get my schedule set, I’ll let you know and we can do that. Make sure to send me more pics of Duke though, since know he owns my sweatshirt now.”

Calum stares down at the black screen. You’ve long hung up, no doubts scarfing down the hotdogs you mentioned. And while the ache has subsided, Calum still feels you in every inch of him. He feels the yearning. The sun’s slipped behind the horizon, the last feathers of light won’t last long. And before Calum’s thinking his fingers are slipping over the frets. He bent over the bass, thinking maybe, just maybe the notes will make sense of the feelings in his gut.

Your phone chimes, pushing rubrics and sticky notes to the side, you pick it up. A notification from instagram, from Calum. The video’s completely dark and it’s just him bent over the instrument as its throaty cries swell. Post you blues, it reads. The caption is tiny, almost missable if you’re not careful. But you see it. If you had any other choice, you wouldn’t have left. If it wasn’t your dream, you wouldn’t have left.

I love you. Even across miles and interstates and timezones, I love you.

Calum wants to tattoo the text message to his eyelids, so when he goes to sleep at night or when he closes his eyes to keep form crying, he can see that you’re not gone, just away from a moment.

______

@5-secondsofcolor bc my Sunshine asked me to tag her so she could read it after shleeps.

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood imagine #calum hood fic #calum hood x reader #calum hood x reader insert #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #h writes #calum 5sos #calum hood blurb #calum hood angst

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finn-ray-nal-beads · 3 years

Note

Agricultural Ask:

Rewind to October.

Basic fall bitch vibes.

Cute little fall festival with your boyfriend Clyde.

Monster corn maze. Like acres and acres of corn maze.

You get lost in the maze and you’re alone and the next thing you know.

Corncobbled in a corn maze.

Why am I like this?

A/N: @butyoudidthis4what I AM ASHAMED.... BUT IM NOT REALLY AT ALL. I HOPE YOU LOVE THE ABSOLUTE CRACK FROM ALL OF THIS. I LOVED IT SO MUCH AND I LOVE CORN COBBING CLYDE WITH ALL MY HEART!🌽

Warnings: Cum eating/tasting, corncobbing (dick slapping look it up on UD), face fucking, choking, daddy kink (because Clyde is DADDY), slight fluff sprinkled throughout, we’re a bad girl, smut smut, and more fucking crackhead smut.

“This way darlin’,” Clyde is pointing on a map given to you by the teen manning the corn maze at the Boone County fall festival.

“Are ya sure babe?” looking at the same map, questioning whether or not he could decipher it as well as he thought, “I think we need to take this turn right here,” running your pretty finger along the path drawn out.

“I’m sure darlin’,” he gripped your hand in his, “I’m perty good at directions I promise,” grinning as he pulled you further into the maze.

Rolling your eyes, you let him drag you down the rabbit hole, giggling as he picked up his steps looking around for signs of trouble.

“Babe, there ain’t nothin’ bad in here,” you chuckled as he put you behind him, gripping your waist as if you’d slip away at any time, “it’s you, me, and a buncha teenagers!”

“Ya can’t be too careful darlin’,” he looked behind you, winking, “I got precious cargo and I ain’t ‘bout ta lose ya to a damn maze,” causing you to break out in a chuckling fit.

“Whatever ya say big bear,” rubbing his tensed forearm, feeling the muscles bulging from under his long shirt, “I ain’t goin’ nowhere with nobody.”

“I know that baby girl,” turning to grab your face, “I know ya wouldn’t do no such thing,” bringing your soft lips to his.

Your tongues danced around for a few moments, only to be interrupted by a group of boys loudly passing through the trail.

“Get a fuckin’ room why dontcha!” the tallest and most ‘handsome’ of the bunch spoke up, causing Clyde to look up immediately. He turned his hulking body to shield yours, standing to his full height as he sized up the kid in front of him. Of course, Clyde’s stature was no match to this wimp of a man, if you could even call him that. The group barely looked as if they were eighteen, ranging in heights, weights, and choices of clothing. Some of them had girls at their hips, fawning like school children over the toughest ones standing up to your big bear of a man.

“Ya wanna run that by me again boy?” crossing his arms, puffing his chest out like a peacock, “I know ya don’t want me ta hurt ya in front a yer buddies and lil’ girlfriends, now, do ya?” quirking an eyebrow as the kid stood his ground for a few more seconds, the fear set in his eyes as he gathered what Clyde was about to throw down.

“N-no s-sir,” he looked to notice his metal arm, gulping when he realized there was no point to his tough-guy exterior, “h-have a good night y’all,” stammering as his crew ran with tails between their legs, the girls chuckling at him as they retreating further into the maze.

Clyde nodded them off, turning to see your legs crossed and biting your lip at his front he’d put up to protect you from whatever danger had come your direction.

“Ya alright baby girl?” rubbing up and down your shoulders as you gazed up into his whiskey pooled eyes.

“I’m more than fine babe,” whispering as you took his hand and delicately trudged into the heart of the maze once more.

After a few more yards, and glancing back and forth, you stopped to turn back to your mountain man, bringing your hands to rub on his chest as he enveloped your asscheeks in his hands.

“What are ya up to baby girl?” he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose, as he dipped down to rub your earlobe in his soft lips.

“I-I need ya Clyde,” moaning as he brushed the sensitive tips of them, moving his goatee down your neck, causing a shiver to radiate through your body.

“What do ya need me ta do darlin’,” whispering on your pulse in your neck, “use ya words like the good girl ya are. Tell daddy what he needs ta do ta make ya feel good,” moving his paws up your waist, gripping your plush tits, causing an animalistic moan to release from you and him.

“I-I need ya to fuck me,” you beg, pleading with your large eyes welling with tears, as he rubs his thumbs over your stiffening nipples, “F-fill me full a you daddy,” arching your body into his touch as he lowered his lumbering body to smell in between your gorgeous tits.

“Mmmmm,” he inhaled, “daddy’s gon’ fill ya nice n’ full baby girl,” gripping the loops on your jeans, pulling them down as soon as you released the zipper.

You pawed at the back of his shirt, coaxing him down to your dripping heat, “I’m so wet for ya daddy,” rubbing his hair as he pulled your panties down to your ankles, bearing the glistening slick dripping down the sides of your thighs.

He ogled at the spend, stuffing a thick finger in your cunt to gather it and stuff in his open mouth, “Goddamn baby girl,” he mused, “ya taste so damn sweet fer me,” getting up to his full height again, staring at your lust blown body as he removed his cock from his jeans.

“Now darlin’.” he warned, “I don’t wantcha ta scream too much er you’ll get us kicked outta this here maze. Ya understand me?” gripping your face in his flesh and blood hand, bringing you to his lips in a searing kiss as he led your other to play with his hardening cock.

“Y-yes daddy,” batting your eyelashes as you jerked his dick until it was pulsing and dripping for your sweet pussy to eat up.

“That’s ma good lil’ girl,” rolling his eyes back in his head as he gyrated into your motions on his length, “n-now get down on ya knees. Daddy’s gon’ fuck yer face until ya cryin’ on ma cock,” pushing your shoulder down as you fell to the ground. Gathering yourself to land pretty on your knees, looking up at your handsome man, opening your mouth and showing your tongue like the good little whore you were.

“Goddamn I could look at that all day darlin’,” lining up his cock to end at your nose, “such a good lil’ girl fer daddy,” suddenly slapping his hardened dick across your face.

“D-daddy!” screaming in pain and pleasure, your clit aching for attention at the sensation.

“Now baby girl,” he tsked, “what did daddy say about ya screamin’ in this here maze?” lining his cock on the other cheek, tapping the side ever so slightly as you looked up at him.

“Y-ya said no screamin’,” tears starting to well up from to smack.

“Exactly darlin’,” he pandered, “an’ what did ya do instead?”

“I-I screamed,” shying away at him, “I-I’m a bad girl daddy,” your arousal pooling at this point, begging him to hit you and stuff you full of him.

“Yes ya are baby girl,” he agreed, suddenly slapping his dick across your face again, leaving an equal red mark as the other side.

“F-fuck!” blurting out as you moved to grip your face, knowing that wasn’t a part of the rules of this little game you guys played.

“Oh baby girl,” he smirked, slapping your hands away, “ya know better than that,” shaking his head, “I guess ya just gonna have ta choke on me to learn yer lesson. Open yer perty mouth darlin’.”

You gathered yourself for a second, opening back up only to have Clyde stuff you head to hilt with his thick cock. Your eyes bugged out of your head as you began to choke and moan around his pulsing length.

“Open up fer me baby girl,” he gripped the sides of your head, feeling your jaw slack and your lips close around his dick, “such a good girl like this,” pumping himself to hit your uvula with every stroke.

His pace picked up as he gyrated your head and his hips in tune with your throat. The spit welling up in your mouth, dripping out in waves as you began to cry on his girthy cock.

“Such a good girl fer daddy,” he mused, watching himself move in and out around your pretty lips, the tears streaming down your face as waves of moans emitted around his cock and balls.

“I-I’m so close baby girl,” he stammered, picking up his pace, causing your orgasm to build between your wet lips, “ya wanna touch yerself so daddy can cum with his darlin’?” watching as you brought an eager hand to rub on your clit, causing your eyes to roll back and your nostrils to flare in his line of sight.

“Fuckin’ dammit,” he pushed completely in passed your uvula, stilling himself for a few seconds, “I-I’m c-cummin’ darlin’,” he managed out as you exhaled and practically screamed at the hot load coursing through your esophagus, spreading into your stomach, initiating your orgasm to crash over you as he suddenly pulled his cock from your lips.

“G-god!” spit ridden, and euphoric as you rode your heatwave out in front of him.

“Ya feelin’ good baby girl?” he chuckled, watching as you came slowly out of your coma, “do ya like it when daddy fucks ya throat?” zipping his softening cock in his jeans as he helped get you up from the dirty ground.

“Holy shit,” wiping the spit and cum from your lips as Clyde pulled your panties back up, licking a stripe on your cunt before sealing them in the lace fabric.

“That good huh?” getting back up to bring you into a kiss.

“Very much so babe,” smiling as he rubbed the sides of your eyes in the most delicate fashion he could.

“What is it big bear?” noticing his demeanor change as he glared at your face, “ya okay?” gripping his sweet cheeks, and rubbing them in your fingers.

“I just,” tears welling up in his eyes, “I love ya Y/N,” he stated clear as day.

You stood there, dumbfounded for a moment, taking in those very special and important words that hadn’t been spoken between the two of you before, banking in the moment.

“Darlin’?” snapping you back into reality, “are ya okay?” the tears now seemingly sad instead of happy as they were seconds prior.

“I love you too Clyde,” blurting out, almost in shock at saying them yourself. He took the words in just as you had, smiling as bright as a star in the sky, and bringing you back into a kiss.

He broke away again after a few moments, “let’s get ya outta here darlin’,” grabbing your hand once again.

“I’m not done with ya quite yet tonight,” practically dragging you to the exit of the maze so the rest of the night could occur just the way he wanted, which would only end with you crying on his cock… Again.

____________

WELL, I HOPE YOU’RE SATISFIED WITH YOURSELF BECAUSE IM... WET💦

I LOVE YOU, BABE!

🖤,

ray-nal-beads

#clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x female reader #clyde logan x you #clyde logan smut #tw: daddy kink #tw: dick slapping #clyde logan fluff #logan lucky

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dulce-pjm · 3 years

Text

“f” for effort

word count: 3.6k

genre: fluff

summary: this feud has gone on far too long. the study room is yours and you no longer care what namjoon has to say about it.

You’re running for your life.

At least, that’s really what it looks like. If you weren’t so goddamn fast, bystanders might have stopped to ask if you were safe or needed help. You’re huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf’s elderly grandma as you tear across campus with only one destination in mind. Beads of sweat drip down your forehead and stains are threatening to form in the pits of your shirt but frankly, you couldn’t give a shit. You’ve got a place to be, and fast.

Said place is your heaven. Your paradise. Your land of milk and honey. Or as a moron would call it, the corner library study room.

It’s roomy, it’s quiet, almost no one knew it was there. When you had loads of coursework to catch up on (which was often and just so happened to be the case on this Friday night), you sought refuge in your precious study room. During the day, the lighting was beautiful. The windows were massive, letting all of the sun’s rays beam into the cozy room and make you feel warm, bright, awake. At night, when you became especially frustrated, you could always slide your rolling chair over to said big windows and gaze at the stars or stare off into the night.

No one appreciated that room correctly, not like you did it.

Which is why you had to stop that little fucker, Namjoon, from stealing it from right under your nose.

The two of you were only freshmen, but your ongoing feud over the glorious study room was intense enough to have lasted generations. You both were willing to pull out all the stops if that’s what it took to keep the other from making it to the room. You used the cheapest of tricks, flat out sabotaging the other if you felt it necessary.

You recall one particular time you planted a fake spider (one of his biggest fears, you’d learned) in his backpack before the end of your shared Calc II class, making him let loose a shrill shriek, much to the annoyance of the professor. And while Namjoon was getting lectured on disrupting class and not acting his age, you were waltzing off to the study room, internally flipping him off as you did. The memory makes you chuckle as you heave and sprint.

It wasn’t that Namjoon had done anything particularly wrong to you. You figured in another context, you might have found him much more bearable, maybe even nice. But something about him just rubbed you the wrong way.

For one, he was an applied mathematics major. Who the fuck majors in just math? People who want to flex how much smarter they are than you, that’s who. And what did the applied part even mean? You suspected someone just as unbearable as Namjoon had added the word in so that he (because of course it was a man) and all his other mathematician friends could be pretentious, annoying fucks together.

Secondly, despite being one of the top students in your class, he was a member of a fraternity. How he had time to both outperform everyone else in the STEM program and party it out with the frat brothers every night was beyond you. You’d heard from your senior friend (who also notified you that Namjoon was after your precious study room) that was also part of the brotherhood that Namjoon was on some kind of fraternity-specific scholarship and that was the only reason he joined. That you understood, tuition was no joke. Didn’t make him any less annoying, though.

And third? Third... Well, you couldn’t think of a third point right now but you’re certain there is one, you know it. You probably couldn’t remember because you were running out of oxygen and dying under the beating sun.

You’re almost crying tears of joy when you enter the library, head whipping around to search for a particular tall blonde. Luckily, he’s nowhere in sight.

Your feet scream as they carry you to your safe haven but you can’t even be bothered until-

“Going somewhere?” He strides next to you, his effortless speed-walking easily overtaking your sloppy attempt at a run. Your books are threatening to slip from your arms and you’re fairly certain you lost the sunglasses on top of your head long ago when you came barreling down the bio building stairs.

“Fuck you, Kim,” you spit harshly. “I came in here first so I get the room.” Your crudeness only makes him laugh maniacally. You curse the little dimples that crease into his cheeks, taking them as an insult to your misery.

“As far as I can see-” He takes advantage of your height difference and takes a massive step in front of you. “-I’m going to get there before you.” As if to tease you further, he spins to face you as he easily surpasses you, approaching the study room and its sign-up sheet with increasing speed.

If you want to win this round- and you really, really do, not only to get your work done but to rub it in his smug face- you’ll need to play dirty.

Moments later, Namjoon is picking up the pen, smirking at you as he moves to haphazardly scribble his name into the time slot. But you’re already formulating a plan. Your textbooks were pretty damn heavy, you bet it’d definitely throw him off if you managed to drop them on his toes. Actually, it definitely would, since the idiot was wearing sandals in late October. As you’re taking aim, however, Namjoon’s face falls.

“The fuck is a board game club?” You freeze, mere steps away from dropping your books on his foot.

“What?” When he doesn’t explain, you nudge him aside and peer at the sign-up sheet. Lo and behold, there it is.

From eight p.m. to midnight, the room is booked. By a... board game club. And it’s seven forty-five now, which means you’re shit out of luck.

“Well, looks like neither of us-”

“This is bullshit.” Namjoon chuckles at your disgusted expression.

“It’s just a study room, Y/N. I’m sure there’s another free one.”

“Well, I don’t want just any study room, Kim. I want my study room.” He scoffs at your arrogance and (quite unfortunately) follows you as you spin on your heel and take off in the other direction.

“Well, what are you gonna do about it? Tell off the game club?”

“I’m going to lodge a complaint and get my study room back.”

“Mhmm.” He trails you incessantly as you march up to the nearest help desk and drop your books in front of the poor employee about to suffer from your wrath.

“Can I help you?” the sheepish girl asks. She couldn’t be much older than you. You almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

“Yes, can you please explain why a-” You raise your fingers for air quotes. “-‘board game club’ has booked a private study room, taking priority over student study time?” The girl is taken aback at your abruptness, clearly not used to being confronted in such a manner. But you weren’t here to waste time by avoiding hurt feelings.

“I-” She hesitates, looking to the blonde beside you for help, of which he gives none. “I’m not sure what to tell you. The study rooms are first come, first serve.”

“For students,” you emphasize, pressing your palms into the desk and leaning forward. “Not unofficial club gatherings.” Something changes in the girl’s face and she turns away from you and faces her computer, typing something across the keyboard. In just a moment, her entire demeanor has flipped. It seems she’s not interested in entertaining your attitude anymore.

“Well, looks like the ‘Board Game Club’ is an official, university-sponsored club. Which means they’re just as much entitled to study room time as you are. Actually, more-so, since you didn’t book your room in advance.” She spins her office chair backs towards you. “Sorry.” She shrugs, flashing you an all-too-fake smile.

“Ugh, fine.” You pile your books back into your arms and roll your eyes, leaving the library altogether.

And your trail follows you.

“What, you’re just gonna leave? There were other study rooms open!” You scoff, annoyed at his ignorance.

“Well the other study rooms that are open at this time either smell like ass or have no air conditioning. So that’s a no-go.” Namjoon laughs quietly, agreeing with your sentiment. He’s been stuck in his fair share of poor study rooms before and knows it can ruin the experience.

“So.... what are you going to do now?”

You find yourself wondering why he’s still here, talking to you when he should be organizing his own study plan for the night. Further yet, you wonder why you’re entertaining his stupid questions at all.

“I dunno. Camp out at the campus Starbucks?”

“What? But they close at ten!” You shoot an exasperated look in his direction.

“And what’s it to you?” You pick up the pace in an effort to shake off your stalker, but much to your annoyance he jumps in front of you, thrusting out his hands before you can take a step further. You nearly collide with his chest.

“Would you just wait a sec?” Your eyes glide up to meet his as you tap your foot, barely acknowledging you’re listening. “Why don’t you just come back to my place with me?” Your eyes narrow.

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, but-” His eyes widen and he begins frantically shaking his head. You almost smirk. It’s fun watching him squirm.

“No! That’s not what I meant!” He sighs, wringing his hands. “Most of the fraternity is at this other party so the house will be empty tonight. And quiet. I know that’s why you like the study rooms and it’s the least I can do for you.”

You’re still suspicious. What’s in it for him? He certainly wasn’t just being nice to be nice. There was something else involved.

“If you knew the house would be empty tonight then why did you try to take the study room?” Namjoon shrugs, grinning mischievously.

“You’re just too fun to tease.”

That remark has you scoffing and brushing past him, not even dignifying him with a response.

“Wait! Just slow down, would you?” A heavy hand settles on your shoulder and Namjoon is beside you again. You’re about to scream with frustration.

“What, Namjoon? What could you possibly tell me that will convince me to come study with you?”

He grins sheepishly.

“I’ll buy you pizza?”

Okay, yeah, you’re a tad ashamed you let your morals slide in exchange for greasy pizza that will wreck your stomach in the morning. But you’re hungry, okay? And the dining hall was already closed and your wallet was empty and it just happened.

And now you were plopped on Namjoon’s bed typing away furiously at your laptop. He’d made a few efforts at light conversation, but he quickly gave up trying to push that boulder when you barely grunted in response to his questions.

His room was surprisingly nice and organized. The bedsheets were barely wrinkled and the room smelled pleasant despite it being apart of a literal frat house. Though his desk was a mess, littered with math theory books and philosophy papers and historical fiction novels. The books appeared well-loved and cared for, not like they were simply written as required on a syllabus.

He appeared pretty organized, too. The oak-colored round glasses he’d donned after arriving made him look older, more scholarly. And definitely more pretentious.

You were glad the two of you weren’t doing this at your dorm. Your room was an actual nightmare. Your life might be organized and planned down to the minute, but your bedroom was an entirely different story.

“So...” Namjoon chews on the end of his pen as he reworks old calculus problems. “Psychology major?”

Really, trying at the small talk again? Good luck with that.

You’re about to completely ignore him when it occurs to you that if you don’t talk about your major he will most certainly talk about his. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard him rant and preach about math and its many uses in modern society. So before you end up stuck in that situation, you entertain his question. If it could even be called that.

“Mhmm.” You bite the bottom of your lip as you contemplate the next line of your essay. You don’t notice Namjoon staring. “I plan to graduate a year early and go straight to med school. Probably open a family practice one day.” Namjoon leans back into his bed frame, nodding in something close to awe.

“Wow, you really got it that planned out?”

“Yup,” you reply, popping the ‘p.’ “Since I was fifteen. I only majored in psychology because I think it’s interesting and I’ll look well-rounded when I start applying to med school. I’ll definitely just be a family doctor.”

“Well, you are a great people person...” You finally crack the next line of your paper and type it away, completely missing the joke and subtle jab.

Ding dong.

“That the pizza?” It’s the first thing you’ve said to him unprompted since you got here.

“Think so. I’ll be back.” He heaves himself up from the bed and trots out of the room, right as your phone buzzes. You only spare the screen a passing glance, but upon seeing the notification is a text from your roommate, you immediately open it.

9:18 pm. Yeji: where are you? ive looked for you everywhere >:( 9:22 pm. Yeji: Y/N? pls respond or ill be worried 9:23 pm. Y/N: I thought you were using the room for yourself tonight. Why are you at the library? 9:23 pm. Yeji: suho cancelled :( i came to find you at the library but you aren’t here ? 9:24 pm. Y/N: The study rooms were all taken. Me and Namjoon are studying at his place. 9:24 pm. Yeji: wait, really?!?! 9:24 pm. Yeji: oh my god, FINALLY 9:25 pm. Y/N: ??? 9:27 pm. Y/N: Yeji?? 9:28 pm. Yeji: im just relieved you two are finally owning up to the obvious sexual tension in this stupid feud and banging it out ;)

You choke. Is that what people thought about you? The idea made you want to gag.

9:29 pm. Y/N: What ?? 9:29 pm. Y/N: NO 9:29 pm. Y/N: That is most definitely NOT what is happening. 9:29 pm. Y/N: That’s disgusting. 9:30 pm. Yeji: aww booooooo 9:30 pm. Yeji: and to think, i was getting my hopes up for you 9:30 pm. Yeji: but seriously tho 9:31 pm. Yeji: whatever dance you two are playing isn’t gonna last long 9:31 pm. Yeji: its obvious you two like each other

With that, you shut the phone off completely and set it face down, suddenly feeling very, very hot.

Yeji was an idiot. She didn’t know what she was talking about.

Right?

This argument, this feud, this competition, it was fueled by anger and annoyance and, as much as you hate to say it, pettiness. You couldn’t stand Kim. And he didn’t particularly like you either. There was nothing else going on here.

Your arguments weren’t flirting. They were arguments. Simple as that.

But then again, you were sitting in his room. Studying together. Letting him buy you dinner.

Well, fuck.

“Pizza delivery!” You scream in fright as he enters the room, making him nearly drop the box full of your precious dinner.

“Oh my god, fuck, are you okay?” You quickly fan at your cheeks to combat the furnace burning underneath them.

“Yep! I’m fine! Just don’t scare me like that, for god’s sake.”

When you meet his eyes, Namjoon looks genuinely apologetic.

Your heart flutters. This little shit.

“Well, uh, here’s your pizza.” He slides the box next to your laptop and settles on the opposite side of the bed, returning to his work.

“You’re not gonna eat?”

“Nah, I ate earlier. And your stomach is growling. I can hear it from over here.” Your eyes bulge.

Had he cared like this all along? Had you just been too blind to notice it? You were freaking out, your heart rate climaxing and your hands quickly becoming lightly coated in sweat.

The weight of the past few months hits you like a freight train.

It’s much too overwhelming.

You’re suddenly aware of your close proximity. The smell of the room, of him, is overpowering and suffocating. The air is thick and you think you might choke. When did that dimpled grin become so attractive? Just before it immediately pissed you off but now...

You eye his blonde locks, imagining what it’d be like to run your fingers through them before you can stop yourself. The glasses you’d found pretentious somehow make him cute, maybe even endearing. Did you always feel like this?

“Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or like you might throw up. Please don’t puke on my floor, I’m begging.”

“Fine!” you squeak, whipping your face back to the laptop screen, unwilling to let your eyes move even an inch in his direction.

Even still, it’s like you can feel his body heat from across the bed, calling you in, taunting you for being the biggest moron you knew.

You gotta get out of here.

You finish your essay in record time, just as the clock strikes eleven. You’ve already instructed Yeji to pick you up at eleven-fifteen, and she’s always early. Now all you had to do was ignore the way your heart was beating in your throat and slip away to forget this ever happened.

After a few days used to succumb to logic, you’d realize this was all a mistake. A misunderstanding. An unnecessary emotional reaction.

“Well-” You stand, gathering your books in your arms. “I’m off. Thanks for buying me dinner and letting me intrude.” He looks up from his work to you, eyes bleary and exhausted. You hate the way you enjoy how he gives you his full attention and concern.

“It’s really no problem. Do you want me to walk you home?”

Goddamn, Namjoon. Stop being such a gentleman, would you?

“No. It’s fine. My roommate is picking me up.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies, appearing slightly disappointed. No, he wasn’t disappointed. You’re just crazy and emotionally unstable at the moment.

You bid him an awkward wave and slowly back out of the room when he calls out for you.

“Y/N!” You freeze in the hallway as he approaches, noticing how his hair has fallen out of its styled position and hangs loosely rumpled in his face.

“Yes?” He probably was gonna ask for you to pay for the pizza since he didn’t eat it. Yeah, that seems like a Namjoon thing to do.

He pauses and grins awkwardly, making your eyes fly to those dimples. He wrings his hands.

“I- uh-” He breathes out sharply through his nose. “I had a nice time.” You nod, allowing no change in your blank expression.

“I appreciated the quiet. Thanks.” He sighs, looking as tired as you feel.

��Look, I’ll cut to the chase. I’ve been trying to tell you I’m interested in you for a few months now.” Your heart stops and you’re unable to offer a response. “I may have got a bit carried away teasing but, well…’

“What do I need to do to secure another study date with you?”

You’re shocked. Flattered, even. But more than anything, you feel your pride inflating in your chest. You quickly forget that just moments before, you were the one drooling over him and instead bask in the fact that he’s been pining for you this whole time. You feel emboldened.

You give him a half-hearted shrug. Namjoon’s face falls.

“If you want a second date with me, you’ll have to do better than trashy pizza and textbooks.” A smile spreads across the boy’s face as he lets out a laugh that he’s desperately trying to contain.

You love seeing him flustered. You’re a bit more comfortable admitting that now.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. I’ll work on that.”

You give him a curt nod as the two of you walk towards the front door.

“Find me in the corner study room when you come up with something.” You give him a glance over your shoulder as you step out into the night.

“Yes ma’am,” he shouts back, playfully saluting you. You’re already missing his annoying presence as he closes the door.

When you collapse into the passenger seat of Yeji’s car, you aren’t listening to her chatter at all. Not that you normally would, but this time there’s not even a chance you don’t tune everything out.

You know, you think you could make room for Namjoon in your life plan. He was a little shit, sure. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t too. And something tells you that you won’t be getting rid of him so easily anymore.

#bts #bts scenario #bts fanfic #namjoon #namjoon fanfic #namjoon scenario #namjoon fluff #not quite enemies to lovers but somewhere in that realm #more like unknowingly flirtatious idiots to lovers i'd say #namjoon as an asshole #OC as a bigger asshole #but they're assholes in love #ya feel?

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wickedbeeao3 · 2 years

Note

Hi author!

Number 10 for the ask game if it's okay by you!

Hi dear! You haven't specified a character, so I went freely and added various bits.

If I ever write a Halloween special, this is the basic structure that I would follow.

10- NIGHTFALL

Grim knows dangerous. Food is usually not dangerous, but food is, because it means they all must stay, because Grim (and Yuu and Ace and Deuce and Jack and Epel) sampled the food and the food was safe, but the food is a trap and now they must stay. Malicious ghosts and he didn't understand at first but he gets it now. No one can cross the threshold back. They must party forever. At least the food is good.

___

Nightfall comes and Charlotte can't find Yuu. Can't find Ace and Deuce either, and calling their phones doesn't work. Out of area. It would be fine, if this wasn't Halloween. Halloween doesn't last from October 31th to midnight. Halloween lasts from sunset to sunrise. And dangerous things walk the veil. She sends messages to Cater and Lilia asking for help and wanders the town, searching relentless like the ghost bride she is dressed as.

___

"Any new information?" Yuu asks, half-hoping and dreading the answer. This is a bad situation. Never again they are going to a stranger's party and they will loudly and absurdly remind Ace and Grim about it. "Nothing. They just laughs at our faces." Jack clenches his first. "Tch, that makes me so goddamn pissed!" Epel makes a face. "One of 'em pinched my cheeks and cooed. Damned these ghosts, I ain't a cute lil'girl!" His accent slipped through, none of the politeness and standard speech he used was present. "...they touched you?" "...shit, Yuu is making the thinking face." Deuce was already in. He trusted that Goldie could find a way out. "What's the plan?" "We are going to beat up a lot of people."

___

A hand touches her shoulder and Charlotte elbows them on her reflex. They grab her limb and her other arm is already in motion before she registers who is it. It is easier to redirect the movement then stop it. "Ah, Princesse Chanteuse, fantastique! Fast reflexes, you were ready to fight even if it dirtied your white clothes!" "Rook-san. I'm occupied at the moment." She grits between her teeth. "I can't always stop myself, so it is best that you don't touch me again." The man has the audacity to smile at her. "Yes, I noticed that you were looking for your missing dorm mates. I have come to offer my services." He bows at her, full of theatrics, cape swaying in the wind. Pomefiore did well with their vampire theme. "And why would you do that? Apologies for my bluntness, but we are not friends." "Ah, but we have shared objectives. Have you seen Monsieur Crabapple in your wandering?" Crabapple...? Epel? He was lost too? "I see. Very well, let's join forces."

___

"Someone with a claim to us?" "That's what the ghosts said." "And they say they've a claim to us 'cause we ate their food. No one 'as a goddamn claim to me! I ain't a damn cow!" "...Grim is a cat isn't he?" "He isn't a cat per se, but you have a point. GRIM!"

___ The trail that Rook finds brings them to the forest. Of course it does. ___

"Okay, that didn't work. Anyone has another idea?" "We try to break the barrier around us." "Magic isn't working." "I have talked to senpai after what happened and searched it on my own... if we destroy the physical part archoring the barrier we can de-estabilize it." "Got it, let's go." . . . The barrier archors are outside the barrier. Goddamn.

___

Of course it is a ballroom. Of course. At least they found them. And hey if there is anyone that has a claim to every student in Night Raven it is a prefect and staff members.

___ Rook crosses the barrier, carrying Epel on his back - dorm mates have a claim to dorm mates and Rook is his damn vice-leader - but when he tries to return, the barrier blocks his path. A ghost on their side laughs. "The living can only go and come one time." They turn malicious eyes to Charlotte. "So, little ghost bride, which one will you chose to spend time forever and which one will you leave for us?" Charlotte snaps. Her slap is strong enough to bring the ghost to the ground and all she answers is a snarl. She is getting everyone home. ___ "Senpai, it's..." "I was ready to carry everyone on my goddamn back, Rook would help with Jack - because you are built like a brick wall, sorry-" Jack snorts. "It's fine." The image would be funny, him being carried by someone small and pudgy like Charlotte-senpai, if the situation wasn't tragic. "-and there is no way that I am giving up. Rook has to be calling for reinforcements, so don't lose hope just yet." "That's good to hear, but do you have a plan, Charlotte-senpau?" "If I thought it would have a 100% chance of working, I would be putting everyone on the curtains and pulling you along. The problem is that I cross first." "...you are saying we need a mail cart." "Yes Deuce, that's exactly what I need. Two, in fact."

___

It is five of the morning but not morning proper, and Trey brings with him Cater and Riddle. Well thought out logistics is for these that slept and not for these close to twenty four hours awake. Rook is debriefing the three of them on the situation - short, but it is best that everyone is on the same page - when two shoddy wooden carts cross the barrier, the students on them and Charlotte bringing the rear. Charlotte seems equally startled in seeing them, her original dress and veil no way in sight, instead with a multitude of different and mismatched clothes. Epel, who has been cheerfully trying to weaken the barrier, is called back. "Princesse Chanteuse, c'est magnifique! You succeeded in rescuing our juniors! Ah, how I wish I was there to watch this blooming adventure." Riddle is trying to needle out the story from Ace and Deuce, and Jack carries Grim, glad to do something. Cooperating with people is not his type, but this once he can accept it. Yuu is just really glad that the plan worked. No more following weird invitations, ever.

#thanks for the ask!#I am open to more if anyone is interested #twst fanfic #just a senpai trying to keep a kouhai alive #halloween special #Jack & Epel got lost first #Then came the Goldie Gang #Room is honestly considering the mechanics of Riddle & Charlotte (tiny) carrying nearly 2m tall Jack #Charlotte traded her clothes for these carts because she HAS LACE and ghosts keep only the clothes they died in #Some people wish to marry but ghost brides are fiercely protective of their things #Heartslabyul trio came in brooms; Pome & Ramshackle are coming back by calling a taxi or ride app #Epel & Lotte curse too much. I had to censor them #Goldie went full NRC in which beating up people is acceptable; terrible :) but they are keeping the prisoners there so... :))#If the cart didn't work it would be: Trey & Cater carrying Adeuce #Riddle carrying Yuu and Grim; Lotte carrying Jack #Lotte is a bad option bc she is straining her muscles but you know who is worse? Riddle. His arms weren't made for the strain #Is Rook dependable? A mystery. But he can be SMART and that is the whole point of it #Lotte is forcing Jack to go back with Heartslabyul; no way she is leaving him with Rook

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myatuesday · 3 years

Text

I'm so depressed.

It's even worse than I thought it would get/might be.

Yesterday was a very bad black star day.

I wish death upon my mother. I do.

I do.

It was... actually pretty scary.

How callously close to the brink she'll push me

Watch me go

And just... hate me harder.

It felt like suicide or running.

I scared myself.

People don't understand the desperation.

Anything to escape the situation, the torture, the abuse.

Anything. Just to make it stop.

I lost my shit.

But luckily she eventually left

And SC came

I just screamed into my mattress

Sobbed on the floor

I just had to get past this

Because I know I'm so close to being gone.

(If not for this goddamn Cancer I'd BE gone right now)

It's just... why torment me now?

JFC.

That's her though. It's her time to rise

Her moment

Her favorite position

Kick me when I'm down

Keep kicking

All it takes is a little tragedy

God forbid an attempt to have a nice weekend

Before my goddamn surgery

My LAST weekend. (Which is over now)

She has to take it away from me somehow

It's some sick ass shit

And all the more reason I need/needed it THAT much more

Heaven forbid.

Sigh

So, yeah.

Now I'm just

DEPRESSED AS FUCK

It's October 17th. My favorite month of the year.

My birthday month.

I've done NOTHING.

N O T H I N G.

I got diagnosed w Cancer the week of my birthday

Faught w SC a lot.

Did, finally, have 1 sushi date... the day of my pre op.

No birthday cards. No stuffies. No flowers.

I'm going through Cancer + it's my birthday

Really? Smh.

Mfr can't go to Walgreens?

Like...

Of course I'm goddamn depressed.

Idk how I'm not fucking catatonic at this point.

My support system SUCKS.

To say they suck is a goddamn understatement.

"Support system" isn't really the right phrasing either

More like... fully activated demons

Sent to torture you on various levels

And cause you to lose your ever loving mind

And sacrifice your soul

For a moments peace or security or something that looks like love.

The irony of all this

Would be to get through this shit

Only to see who my real friends are

And kill myself anyway

Because they literally don't exist

You'd think I was a school shooter or something

ISTG

My godmother hasn't decided to unghost me

My godmother. Who has been my parent, since I was 5. Knows I have Cancer. Nothing.

And I have ZERO CLUE. None.

Why she ghosted me in the first place.

My Dad's side of the family - nothing.

Nothing.

Fucking nothing.

Like...

It's one thing to think nobody gives a flying fuck about you.

It's another thing to get Cancer

And have that shit confirmed.

[Sidenote: Again becoming convinced I'm in Hell. And have been the last 4/5 years.]

It's an endless nightmare that never fucking ends.

I think I'm finally free. Finally fucking free.

BAM. Just kidding.

Cancer.

Smh.

Oh and guess what? Surprise!

NOBODY GIVES A FUUUCK.

Happy Birthday.

This is literally all the fuck you're getting this year, baby.

A HARSH GODDAMN REALITY CHECK

Nobody gives a fuck about you.

No Matter What.

But I guess, fuck it, now I know.

Smh.

If I can just get through this...

Freedom is on the other side

And I ain't gotta take NOBODY with me

Goddamn Nobody.

The only person who has my back is Frank.

And Bre has been sweet. Especially considering she's got her own shit.

That's just... internet love 3000 mi away, so it's hard.

Even Ashley fucked me over.

She's been supportive.

But she really crossed a line.

And I'm not ok. It was not ok.

So... I don't even know what to make of that situation.

Long story short, she's pulling an Aubre.

Telling my business that is not hers to tell.

Telling shit I've only told maybe 3 people.

And using me as an example - not herself !!! - me.

Smh.

Just fucking WOW, bitch. Wow.

Thank god SC at least came and rescued me from the mom-induced crazy suicide/whatever the fuck spell.

He then just... passed out on me.

And we didn't do shit.

But... he was a buffer. And I die another day.

So... there's that.

Shit is tough w him right now though.

Definitely more harm than good.

When you have fucking nobody

(And you're losing your mind

Cause your body is getting fn destroyed

And you're desperate

Cause surprise Cancer)

Wtf do you do?

It hurts A LOT

How much he doesn't love me anymore

How... fucking fast that just dissipated for him

Attempting to have him as my right hand rn is fucking brutal

But... a bitch needs oxytocin.

AT LEAST.

Sigh.

It's just... smh

Idk

Everything changed this month

We waited all month for this month

This month is here

He promised me all this shit

Didn't want me to go

Yadda fucking yadda

It's October 17th

Between my birthday and Cancer

My birthday he was supposedly all over

I just... sigh

It's that fucking bitch

Something changed w her this month

So now... he's back to bare fucking minimum

And being weird as fuck

It's like Jesus Christ dude

I'm not trying to get back together

You can't... fucking humor me?

Do a bitch a solid?

Idk. Follow through on ANYTHING?

Anything?! You've offered, promised, whatever?

Smh.

Of course not. Of fucking course not.

I tried to block him FOREVER EVER.

He begged his way back in. Why?

To... be dismissive and weird and make me feel like a fucking pariah? Cool. It's devastatingly not fn helpful.

(This is after fighting w me

And saying just INSANE fucked up shit to me

Since I got diagnosed.

Cool. Cool. Cool.)

So yeah. THIS is what I'm dealing with.

If I had it to do all over again

1000%

I should've just left.

Cancer and all

Idgaf. I should've just left.

I've spent months trying to build myself back up

Trying to heal

Trying to do all this things...

Just for this month

- this month I thought was going to be my peak fucking month -

To shatter it all away

All fn over again

Smh.

I can't imagine treating my worst enemy like this

Or making them feel this alone

In a time like this

Or add drama ffs

Never

But these demons around here...

Commited to my demise.

All there is to it.

Surely I'll get out of here after this

Fucking surely.

I HAVE to

Or I'm fucking ending it.

I'm not going on like this.

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

Help (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Help Rating: PG-13 Length: 1300 Warnings: None Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in September 1998. Short chapter is short. Summary: Reader meets up with Steve.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow@plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @u-wakatoshii @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen@arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque@theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou@yespolkadotkitty @fleetwoodmactshirt @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110

“You’re such a fucking idiot, Murphy.” You remarked as you took a sip of beer, “I can’t believe you pulled that shit.”

“I didn’t want to freak her out, alright?” Steve shrugged his shoulders. “With her mother in town, it was just… it was easier to call it a work thing and handle it on my own.”

“What were you going to tell her if you had cancer? Do you really want to handle a prognosis like that alone? Without giving her a chance to react in real time?” You shook your head slowly. “I used to think you were the smarter one. You know, between you and Javi, but… he’s not even stupid enough to pull that shit.”

“Look, it’s been handled. It’s been hashed and rehashed at home. Connie’s not mad at me.”

“Well, she was.” You said flatly. “Do you know she thought you were cheating?”

He shifted uncomfortably, “Yeah. I’m aware.” Steve glances down at the table, running his finger through the ring of moisture left behind by his beer bottle. “Look, I recognized that it was a bullshit plan when I was doing it, but the alternative was just as unpleasant. Her mother is…”

“I know.” You made a face. “She’s a rival to my own mother.” You took another sip, swirling it around in the bottle. “I get it, I really do, but… communication is really important, especially when you’re going through something like that. I mean, what would your girls have done if one day their father was just…”

You stopped yourself, shaking your head.

“You good?” Steve questioned, resting his arms on the table.

“I’ve told you about my father.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I just know what it’s like to wake up one day and find out you lost your father.”

Steve nodded solemnly, “Look, I recognize I fucked up. Connie reamed me out, Javier reamed me out, and now you are. I get it.”

“What did Javier say?”

“That I fucked up.” He shrugged, “Oh, how the tables have turned. I’ve lectured him a dozen times over and now he gets to do the same.”

You smirked and chuckled, “Becoming a professor has made him extremely preachy.”

“I noticed.” He took a sip of beer. “So, speaking of work… have you given my offer any thoughts?”

“I did.” You tapped your fingers against the bottle. “I’ll work with you. I miss being involved in that capacity, but I have no intentions of getting back in the field. I tried that with the P.D. at the beginning and it wasn’t for me.”

“It’s going to be a lot of seminars.” He admitted, making a face. “I’ve already got a handful of departments lined up, I just need help on the admin side. We both know you’re a hell of a good public speaker.”

You flipped him off, “You and Javier both…”

“Well, you are. Even if you hate it.” Steve arched a brow. “I can offer you a decent rate. I can’t match the P.D., but it’ll be a fair wage.”

“I just need a flexible schedule.” You told him. “I’m thinking about the adjunct position at the university.”

“Sounds like the three of us will almost be back to working together.”

“Don’t try to get Javier in on this too,” You warned him.

“Why?”

“Because, I know how he’ll react.” You took a sip of your beer, before finishing it off and sitting it aside. “There’s a lot of baggage there and we’ve just finished packing what the articles pulled out.”

“Gotcha,” He nodded, pursing his lips together. “I thought he might’ve moved on, you know? House, two kids, good job…” Steve rolled the base of the beer bottle against the top of the table. “But I guess those ghosts don’t just go away.”

“He’s got a lot of guilt,” You explained. “And I’ve tried my best to alleviate him of that guilt, but it’s not that easy.” You pushed your fingers through your hair and sank back in the chair. “Colombia can be a real trigger for him. Getting back into that line of work… I don’t think it would be good for him.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before—“

You cut him off, “I know, it’s not as obvious anymore, but—“

Steve held up a hand, “No. That’s not what I’m saying. You and Javier used to do this in Colombia. Look out for the other person, guide people away from saying shit that might upset each other.”

You shrugged, “We’ve always been like an old married couple.” If only he knew the truth.

“After the shit he went through, I guess he deserves having someone to look out for him like you do.”

“Connie would do the same, if you actually told her what was going on.” You pointed with a stern look. “And I know things are getting better, but you’ve got to make Connie feel like a Queen from time-to-time.”

“I do!” He protested with a short laugh. “Goddamn. She knows she’s the only woman for me. We’ve just got chaotic schedules. Sometimes we’re just two ships passing each other.”

You lowered your voice, “Then take time to enjoy those passing moments.”

“We are not getting into my sex life with my wife. Nope.” Steve waved his hands. “This was supposed to be about working as a consultant.”

You snorted, “This is nothing I haven’t already told your lovely wife.”

“I’m aware.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “We’re working on things, alright? Things have been off for awhile.” He sank back in his seat looking defeated. “You’ll understand it eventually. Kids, work, life… Marriage changes shit”

“I do actually understand it, but we still make ‘us’ time a priority. Our girls are my heart and soul, but one day they’re going to grow up and move out and then it’ll just be the two of us.”

“You know I love Connie.”

“I do know that, but I do know that you two need to take your own advice and go on a vacation together. Just the two of you.”

“When?”

“We could watch the girls early October. First weekend?”

Steve scraped his teeth over his bottom lip, “Alright. I like the sound of that. Where do you think she’d like to go?”

“I think that’s a question for you wife, Steve.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, “I miss how it was before the girls. Before Colombia. It was just the two of us taking on the world. It was fresh and exciting.”

“A vacation will help you with that. I promise.” You met his gaze, “And I’m certain being married doesn’t change a damn thing. You’re still the same people you were at the beginning.” Four months in and nothing had changed for you.

Steve rubbed at the back of his neck. “I just want her to be happy.”

You nodded your head, “Me too. I adore Connie.”

“She’s pretty partial to you too.” Steve grinned. “I’m glad you two ended up being friends.”

“Me too.” If you hadn’t had Connie and Steve in Colombia, you were certain you would’ve lost your mind. They’d been the family you desperately craved.

And the fact you could turn around and help them now made everything feel like it had been worth the difficult periods. They’d helped you and now you were helping them.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena #pedro pascal x reader

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