#I’m in the front stock room on break I have maybe 5 minutes left I’m trying very hard not to cry

[etherrreal]

“the things you do for charity”

Pairing: kenma x gn!reader Genre: fluff Summary: kenma's always been a private person, but it was getting increasingly harder to keep his partner off his streams while you live together; so, he decided to join his two loves together for a 24-hour charity stream extravaganza. Word Count: 3,408 Warnings: some swearing, i suppose there are some spoilers from the manga about adult kenma's job? A/N: i'd give my left tit to play some minecraft or mario kart with kenma tbh -Luna

Kenma's career as a popular streamer was one of the many facets of him that shocked you when you’d started dating two years ago. The two of you had first met in an Animal Crossing discord for your city meant for trading and making friends.

After you had gone over to his island to adopt Raymond from him, he let you keep all of your Nook Mile Tickets with the stipulation that you kept in contact with him to "give him updates" about how the cat villager was doing in his new home. His dorky way of trying to flirt with you was what made you pursue him in the first place, and somehow it had led to a very fulfilling relationship.

It was revealed early on that he was a streamer, but he never expanded on it regarding the actual numbers. Curiosity got the best of you one night, and you decided to google him. Besides also learning that he was a YouTuber, you found yourself in awe at the numbers he managed to accumulate across all of his social media.

And if that wasn’t enough, he was also apparently the CEO of his own business.

Once you moved in together around the one-year mark of your relationship, you got to properly witness the amount of work put into streaming and maintaining a social media presence. This also meant that you got to read the wild comments that were left on all of his platforms–and see the occasional surprise nude picture whenever he opened up his DMs around you.

Because of this, Kenma sat you down to have a conversation about your potential appearance on his social media. You both decided by the end of it that his audience would get to know that he was in a committed relationship, but you agreed it would be best to not show your face or reveal any identifying information of yours.

It had been a year since having that conversation, and you’d both stuck to the agreement closely. The most his audience had ever seen of you was your hand whenever you refilled his water bottle for him.

Of course, it was hard sometimes, especially when you had to remain extra quiet around the house and refrain from yelling out a 'baaaabe' whenever you needed something from him, but since he had his own soundproof office, it lessened the room for any accidental error.

Overall, you were content with never showing your face to his audience for the rest of his career. You knew how nasty the internet could get because of their parasocial relationships with influencers and streamers alike, especially when they discovered those influencers and streamers had a partner who wasn't them, even if they knew they never had a chance. You weren't sure your skin was thick enough to deal with rabid angry stans.

Which is why it was so shocking when Kenma decided one day to nix the agreement.

You were in your shared bedroom answering some emails when he came in. He was dressed in a baggy hoodie, sweats, and tied-up hair; his typical look for a stream.

After some time, you noticed that he was still standing in the doorway, not saying anything. When you glanced up at him, you found him awkwardly toying with the strands of hair that had fallen out of his bun, looking down at the ground like he was just waiting for you to notice him.

"Is there something you need, baby?" you asked. "You're just standing there all adorably shy."

"Yeah, so, um, I'm going to be doing a 24-hour stream this weekend to raise money for charity."

"Oh, really? Cool! I guess that means I'll be going to bed alone that night," you joked.

"Yeah, I guess. Um..." He started before scrunching up his face like he was uncomfortable with what he planned to say next.

"What is it? Do you need me to stock up on snacks and energy drinks? Just send me a list. I can pick  them up tomorrow."

"No, that's not it. I was thinking of making a stretch goal be you coming on stream so we can play Minecraft or Mario Kart or something...I mean, I totally understand if you don't feel comfortable. I could always replace it with something else. I know they've been wanting to see me dye my hair a bright color and dress up like an e-boy, so--"

"Really!?" you nearly yelled.

"What? That they want me to dress like an e-boy? Yeah, Kuroo said it would–"

"No, I mean..." You tried to fight the confused expression that was growing on your face, but your squinted eyes gave you away. "You really want me on your stream? Like face and all?"

"....Yeah, I really want to be able to share this with you. But don't feel like you have to do it just to make me happy."

It was a large ask when looking at the full picture. Kenma had his fair share of fans and "stans" who lacked boundaries, as seen from a select few who visited your home several times this year, or the handful that found you on social media already just from seeing a glimpse of your college ring on the hand wrapped around Kenma's water bottle.

There could be a chance you could receive direct hate on your social media just because you were a person who dated a popular streamer. You would then be in the public eye with little privacy and have a magnifying glass on all of your actions and words. Anything you did would then reflect on Kenma.

What if you messed something up and then Kenma lost viewers? Would they try to cancel you or him for it?

You backed away from all the negative thoughts before you could spiral and looked at the metaphorical 'pro' column.

If you agreed to appear on his stream, you would no longer have to sneak around your house in fear of being heard or showing up in his face cam. You both wouldn't have to feel guilty playing games off-camera with each other because you knew Kenma could be streaming it instead.

And who knew? Maybe his fans would like you. You had to admit, it would be a nice ego boost knowing that you were accepted by so many people.

And, most importantly: you could physically ask him in person what he wanted for dinner instead of texting him and waiting an hour for a break so he could respond, while you sat in the next room, starving, stuck in an endless cycle of wondering whether you should make a snack or if you should just hold off for dinner.

Maybe this was a good idea.

"Okay,” you decided, “I'll do it."

"Oh... alright. Cool." Kenma was trying his hardest not to show how excited he was that you agreed. When he saw the contemplative look on your face, he was sure you would decide that it'd just be too much work and say no. But hearing you agree made him giddier than he would ever admit to.

Despite the cool and collected façade he thought he was putting on, you saw the smile that threatened to break through and the red tips of his ears. You wondered if he felt the same weight being lifted off his shoulders as you did, knowing that, after this weekend, you'd both be finally out as an official couple to the world.

And, of course, the nausea of having to do all of it live in front of thousands of people. No biggie.

Saturday afternoon came and at 12pm sharp, Kenma began his grueling 24-hour charity stream. The bar had an overall goal of $150,000, and it began filling up at a constant pace right from the start. Donations ranging from $5 to $500 were flowing in rapidly, and you were trying your best not to feel nervous.

You both agreed that if he reached $50,000 within 5 hours, you would join him for an hour or two of Minecraft later that night. Part of you hoped that the donations would slow down and plateau for a bit, but when you saw Kuroo had donated $1000, specifically with the message that he hoped to see you on stream soon, you realized that it was a pipe dream.

So, you had to be your own hype person for now, to get prepared to show your face to thousands of people and not disappoint Kenma.

Whether it was the promise of your face reveal or the people who genuinely adored charity, it took only four hours for Kenma to break $50,000.

When he saw the number update live on stream, the viewers witnessed the most amount of expression Kenma had ever shown: eyes wide as saucers, mouth slightly agape, body frozen. You could see the gears struggling inside his head struggling to turn and comprehend what they all managed to do so early on in the stream.

"Thanks so much, everyone, for being so generous today... I guess this means we'll be having my partner on later tonight," he announced. You watched his chat explode with excitement, his special emotes flying in the chat.

You picked up your phone to shoot Kenma a quick text.

[you]:: hope you're ready to put our minecraft beds together in front of thousands of people 😏

Unsurprisingly, he left you on read. But dating him for this long meant you weren't even a little bit afraid of double or triple texting.

[you]:: maybe we can kiss under the light of an exploding creeper 😫

[you]:: or have a romantic walk through our rainbow sheep while a phantom looms overhead 🥰

It was after the third text when you finally saw him pick up his phone to text you back. You eagerly awaited his response, only to cackle when you read it.

[my sugar daddy]:: im going to replace you with hinata as my partner if you dont stop

Instead of annoying him any further, you set your phone to charge on your nightstand and went into the bathroom to get ready for the stream later.

Once you emerged, you picked up your phone to check the percentage and noticed a text from Kenma stating that he'd have you on at 8pm. You decided to spend the time until then cooking up some dinner for the both of you.

It seemed like time flew by because by the time you were done eating your food, it was 7:45pm. Only fifteen more minutes before you were live in front of all of Kenma's supporters. You refilled your water bottle and sat on the couch, staring at the blank T.V. as you practically dissociated from reality until Kenma came out of his office to retrieve you.

You noticed that he looked just as nervous as you did, despite his face not showing it the way yours did. His shoulders were up to his ears with tension, and his hoodie drawstring was pulled almost all the way through due to him fiddling with it.

He turned briefly to you after he brought you into his office, gesturing to make sure you knew to wait until he gave you the cue. He sat down, unmuted himself, and took down the 'away' screen he had for his audience.

This was it. Everything was going to change in literally ten seconds.

"Well, everyone...please welcome my partner, (Y/N)."

You walked cautiously around his large gaming chair and sat next to him in your modest desk chair that he had rolled into the room for the occasion.

Okay, you thought to yourself, now don't fuck this up.

"Hi, everyone."

Nailed it.

There was a painful moment of silence before the stream finally caught up, and you both heaved a sigh of relief when you saw nothing but declarations of excitement. Amongst the 'AHHHs' and spam of emotes were sweet comments about your appearance and how cute you two looked as a couple. You peeked over at Kenma and saw the ghost of a smile on his lips, elated to know that he was just as relieved as you were.

"Okay, let's start with the gameplay while we answer some questions," he said.

The questions and gameplay started out mild; when did you both start dating, how did you meet, who asked the other out first. They even asked a few simple questions about you specifically, like your favorite anime and your star sign. And while you did see a few bans in the chat after some inappropriate questions –no, you will not tell them the color of your underwear– most were easy and simple enough to answer.

Then they started to get a bit spicier.

"Bokutoslefttit donated $69.69 and asked, 'what is your main pet peeve with Kenma?'" he read, muttering a 'wow' under his breath at the username.

"Ooh, how can I be polite when exposing you?" you pondered while beating a cow to death with your sword. "It's probably how loud he gets whenever he's playing games with his good headphones on."

"I don't get loud," he defended.

"Oh yeah, you do. I've had to come in here several times to tell you to shut up like I'm your mother. I did it literally two days ago when you were playing with Lev."

"... Next question."

You rolled your eyes at his lack of comment but glanced over at the chat to pull up a new question. You stifled a laugh when you read, "Girlboss420 asked 'who has a fatter ass, Kuroo or (Y/N)?'"

"I'm not answering that."

"Come oooon, this is a Q&A. Can't have the Q’s without the A’s."

"Nope."

You were about to start reprimanding him for implying that Kuroo's ass was fatter than yours when you noticed he ran past you with a group of pillagers following closely behind. You turned to head into the house but when you opened the door, you noticed it was blocked off by obsidian.

"You are the absolute worst!" you exclaimed.

You made a break for it, sprinting past the shooting pillagers and around to the front of the house. You made it inside with only 2 hearts to spare. You turned, in real life, to Kenma to see him tight-lipped to avoid smiling about his betrayal.

"I'm moving my bed downstairs for the rest of the stream."

You both carried on with the stream without another incident, turning to the chat every now and again to answer some questions. Kenma even apologized to you by bringing home a horse that was named "I'm sorry."

It was about an hour and a half after you sat down when Kenma decided that he needed a bathroom break. Your heart fell to your ass when you realized that you'd be all alone to entertain his chat. You considered saying that you needed to pee as well, if it meant not having the spotlight on you.

Instead, when he got up to pee, you smiled and asked him to bring you back a snack and a refill. Oh, how the turns have tabled.

In the meantime, you decided to scroll through the chat and some of the donations to pick out another question to answer since Kenma was gone. You were initially looking for a funny or vulgar comment when you saw one that had a completely different vibe.

"Kermithateblog donated $25.00 and asked, 'what's your favorite part about being with Kenma?' Wow, that's a really sweet question. Let me think for a moment."

You paused to reflect on your relationship with Kenma over the two years you’d been together. You'd had your fair share of highs and lows like any other couple, but, in the end, you both learned how to work things out so you were both equally as happy in the relationship.

"So, as you guys know, he's a busy boy with streaming, creating content for YouTube, and also being a CEO of his own company, which all takes up the majority of his time," you began. "But when he finally can shut off his screens and crawls into bed late at night, I know that he's 100% there with me at that moment. He is able to give me his undivided attention and make me feel like his love for me comes above his love for gaming."

You gave a pause, trying not to get too emotional. You rarely got the chance to gush about Kenma because you knew how much he hated having attention on him, so if this was going to be your only opportunity to do so for a while, then you were going to take it.

"What y'all don't know is that he is the biggest baby when it comes to cuddling," you laughed. "He is absolutely the little spoon most of the time, and he loves when I stroke his hair and love on him all night. In a weird way, it makes me feel special and loved knowing that he trusts me enough to be vulnerable with me. I cherish the amount of time we have together because of that."

What you didn't know was that he had come back from refilling your water bottle rather quickly and stood outside the doorway to hear your speech. His heart almost burst when he heard your tender words describing how he made you feel. He knew that you rarely got to hear how much those quiet moments at night meant to him because he was guarded with his feelings.

Which is why he started into the room on a mission.

You smiled as soon as you saw him. "Welcome back, babe, we were just talking about--"

He approached you swiftly and leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. You hardly even got to bask in the moment before he was pulling away, setting down your water bottle as he sat back down with his controller in hand like he didn't just expose to his audience how much of a softy he really was.

It was in that moment when you realized how glad you were that you’d decided to appear on stream because you'd be able to look back at that clip over and over again to relive the intimate moment.

Noon on Sunday came at last. Kenma would finally be free from the prison of his office. Not to mention he could finally get off his ass and stretch.

Between your official appearance on stream and the sign-off, you popped in a few more times to say hello to the chat when you brought him some snacks and drinks. You stayed up through most of the night, although you accidentally napped for a few hours during the dead of night which gave you a little boost in energy.

In the end, the stream was a monumental success. Kenma had even managed to blow past his goal of $150k and make it to over $200k, which meant that he'd be getting the full e-body makeover for his next week of streams.

By the time Kenma came into your bedroom after freshening up and having a small snack, you were already dead asleep with your laptop propped open to show his now offline stream.

He tip-toed around the bed quietly, closed your laptop, pulled the covers up and over your curled-up body, and slipped in himself. As he settled, he felt you shift and grab at his worn t-shirt, opening your eyes slightly just to confirm that it's him.

He pulled you against his chest tightly, his body finally able to relax. He was sure it wouldn't be too long before he completely fell out.

"That was more fun than I thought it'd be," he heard you utter quietly.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." His fingers gently danced across your shoulder blades as you mushed your face into his clean shirt. "I can't believe we raised so much today so quickly."

"I'm so proud of you, baby. You worked so hard on this."

"I also donated $2000 anonymously to speed up the process," he mumbled sheepishly, pressing a gentle kiss on the crown of your head in hopes to lessen the blow of his secret.

It was quiet for a moment, and he wondered if he’d genuinely pissed you off before he felt the vibrations from your laugh against his chest.

"...I can't wait to ruin your hair, e-boy."

Written by: Luna

#kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #haikyuu x reader #kenma imagines #haikyuu imagines #kenma x y/n #kenma x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #our writing #kenma fluff #haikyuu fluff #luna writes

[sillyrabbit81]

The Instructor - Part 4

Summary: Agent Walker continues your training.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader

Word Count: approx 3.8k

Warnings: smut, Dom/sub dynamic (m Dom, f sub), dégradation kink, praise kink, slapping, rough sex, orgasm control, I think thats it?

Authors note: Not beta read, only edited by me. There will be errors, my apologies.

Masterlist

Part 3 Part 5

The Instructor Part 4

August took you to the surveillance room. The operation had the whole ninth floor to work from, you didn’t know how the CIA was able to pull off such a requisition, but you knew not to ask questions. Chances were, even August didn’t know how that was done.

Agent Thomas was there with two other Agents and although they were both men, they were so opposite in nature and appearance you wondered how they could possibly work together. One of them seemed to radiate constant joy and good humour, while the other seemed dour and uninterested in anything. You receive a handshake and a welcoming smile from Agent Ortega and got a short nod from Agent Turner. Despite August introducing you by your name, since Agent Thomas had beaten you to them, your name was New Girl.

Apparently, there were two more Agents you would meet when your shift finishes. The number of Agents on this case struck you as odd. Six agents plus August all in the field seemed overkill for any simple surveillance case. Four should be more than enough. Hell, you could probably do it with three.

Ortega was the agent you would spend the next 8 hours with, and you were relieved. You were confident you knew how to do your job, but since this was your first field assignment, you were nervous and Turner made it worse.

So did August, if you were honest with yourself. You found yourself playing with the golden circlet around your neck a lot and chided yourself for bringing attention to it. It was meant to be discreet but if you constantly played with it, eventually someone would notice. You frequently found your concentration lapse and you would focus on August instead of your job. He was becoming an obsession, he invaded your mind constantly. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, anticipating your next visit or, remembering your too few encounters.

During one such daydream, you caught Ortega staring at you, expectantly. You quickly realised it was because he had spoken to you but you hadn’t responded. “Sorry,” you say. “I tend to get really focussed on my work and block out other sounds.” You lie smoothly. Ortega waves away your apology and repeats the question.

You enjoy your time with Ortega, he was friendly and warm without being lecherous. Perhaps his simple wedding band helped to put you at ease. He doesn’t offer information about his partner and you don’t ask. You both eat a lunch of sandwiches made in the kitchen and while the work doesn’t stop, you and Ortega start chatting and you find yourself growing more comfortable with him. Even though he calls you New Girl, he doesn’t treat you like a rookie and you found your confidence increase as the day went on. You even found yourself sharing jokes with him.

However, an hour before your surveillance shift finished, August came back to the room requesting an update. As he comes in the door you were smiling, still getting over a laughing fit with Ortega. Although he shows no obvious reaction, you notice a slight tightening of his jaw. You keep the smile plastered to your face as you look away, but you know there isn’t a hint of a smile in your eyes.

August checks in with Ortega who reports the day’s events. He leans over Ortega’s shoulder resting one hand on the desk while the other held one side of a pair headphones up to his ear as he listens to some audio. You can feel August’s gaze boring holes into you, and you can almost hear him say, “Look at me, Pet.”

Slowly you raise your eyes and look at him. You had to smother a gasp. He wasn’t just staring at you, it felt like he was stripping you bare with his eyes. The fire is his blue orbs was scorching with desire. His gaze holds you captive, and you know if Ortega sees what was taking place, your secret would be out. Scandal at this point in your career would mean you were chained to a desk for the rest of your life, if you didn’t quit in frustration, which was usually what most people did.

But August doesn’t take pity on you, he knows the risks too and doesn’t avert his gaze. He licks his lips, drawing attention to his mouth. With a leering look he mouths, “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you tonight, Pet.”

You make a strangled noise and Ortega looks up at you started. “You ok, New Girl?” he asks.

You reach down and clutch your foot, slipping it out of your shoe. “Yeah,” you say, hiding your face while you rub your foot. “Just a cramp.”

August ignores the situation and keeps listening to the audio. You avoid looking at him and he leaves a few minutes later. Even after he is gone, you still feel your ears and cheeks burn and you doubt you will be able to regain your concentration. Then you receive an email from August that simply reads “8 pm.” The rest of your shift is a write off.

Not long before eight pm you stand nervously outside August’s apartment. With trembling hands, you knock on the door. You feel tipsy, you can’t think straight, you’re giggly with nervousness and your legs are unsteady, ready to betray you at any moment.

“It’s open,” you hear August call from inside.

You take a deep breath in a useless attempt to settle your nerves and open the door. You see him sitting at his dining table reading from his laptop and nursing a tumbler of what looked like gin or vodka. He didn’t get up, just flicks his eyes up as the door opened, saw it was you and flicks his eyes down again.

“Lock the door,” August says and you do as he asks.

He is wearing his suit pants and button up shirt, but he had taken his jacket and tie off. His sleeves are rolled up and a few of the top buttons on his shirt are open and you can see tufts of his dark hair on his chest. His hair is still impeccably groomed, but a five o’clock shadow dusts his jaw. Even without the suit, he exudes authority, from the set of his jaw, to his posture, the only thing casual about him was his laxed attire.

“You’re early again,” August says. You still can’t tell if he thought being early was a good thing or not. Until he said otherwise you would continue to be early because you were sure August wouldn’t tolerate tardiness.

You half shrug in reply, but don’t say anything. You realise you hardly say anything in front of August, he intimidated you more than else did. He made you nervous in a way that was so intoxicating that you found it hard to even think of anything you wanted to say. Unless, he asked you a question, then you can hold nothing back. Perhaps it was because you know there is no one in the world that has more power over you than he does.

“Take your clothes off, pet.” August says, still not looking at you. “All of it this time, except your stockings and heels.”

You try to swallow, your mouth feels dry, but you don’t hesitate to obey, his tuts of disappointment that morning still lingered in your mind. Your hands shake as you undress and fold your clothes neatly. You aren’t sure why you feel like its important to fold your clothes, maybe it was because even when August was relaxing, he always had an air of clean order around him. Like he needed things to be just so. However, you know that’s not completely true, you have seen the chaos dance in his eyes, the thin veneer of civility he wore like a skin suit couldn’t hide all of his primal urges and tendency towards recklessness.

“Come sit next to me,” you hear August say the second you had folded your underwear and placed them on top of your clothes. You didn’t think he had been watching but he must have been, because even now he seemed to still be focussed on the screen in front of him. You feel a little silly that you had undressed like you would have at home, you didn’t even try to make it look good for him.

So, you make an effort this time, to show him you want to please him. You let your hips sway just slightly as you walk, the movements feel natural, yet seductive as you near him. You pull a chair away from the table but August stops you, putting his hand over yours. His fingers are warm on your skin and you feel a shiver run up your spine.

“Not there,” he says.

You walk around to the chair on the other side of him, but August stops you again. “Not there.” He looks at you, then with a small movement of his head and a smirk, he indicates the floor. “On your knees, pet.”

You’re shocked and before you can stop yourself you say, “On my knees?” You look at the rug under the table. It was fairly plush looking and soft so your knees wouldn’t hurt. You wondered if he wanted you to take him in his mouth again, you couldn’t think of another reason he would want you on the ground.

“Yes,” August says, with little patience, but his smirk holds. He must find your bemusement funny. “Now.”

You slowly sink to your knees next to August, you feel a little humiliated, but you are curious to see where this was going. August lets out a content hum as you obey. The sound makes you smile and you look up at him, his smirk now looks more like a smile and he pats your head. “Good girl.” He praises. All thoughts of humiliation left you as those two words warm you. August places his large hand on the back of your head and guides it to his thigh.

Again, you’re confused, until you feel his hand stroke your head. He pats you, soothing himself as he finishes his work. He occasionally lifts his hand to do some typing and you find yourself watching his hand impatiently until it is returned. Occasionally he touches your collar, running his fingers along it, as if reminding himself that you as his. Sometimes his fingers slide up and down your back, with long tender strokes that make you break out in goose bumps and when he makes you shiver you hear him hum with satisfaction.

Eventually you hear August give a big sigh and he stretches his neck before closing the laptop and moving it out of the way. He takes a last swig of his drink before putting it aside as well.

“Pet,” August says. You look up at him and he gives his head a little jerk again and you stand up. He looks you up and down, his eyes seem critical as he inspects you, but you know he likes what he sees because his tongue licks his lips before he bites his bottom lip.

August guides your leg over his and you stand in front of him now, your legs on either side of his and your bottom rests on the table. You feel exposed while he continues to study you, and you want to close your legs as you see his eyes linger on your bare slit. You know he would see the slick wetness of your arousal, you could feel it on the inside of your thighs. You close your eyes, a little embarrassed by your obvious display of desire.

August starts to run his hands over the outside of your thighs, hips and waist and back again, while he leans in and kisses the soft skin of your belly. You involuntarily giggle and your hands reach for his head as his stubble tickles at your sensitive skin. Still smiling he takes your hands in his, pulls them behind your back and holds both of them in his huge paw. He returns his kisses to your tummy, but this time they are bigger, wetter and you can feel his tongue lick at your skin as he does. You try not to wriggle, you try and hold still for August, but his teasing touch is too much and you find yourself squirming as he plays with you.

Between kisses he says, “I think its time I got to know you better, Pet.” You feel the heat rise in your body and you feel your heart beat everywhere. God, he has barely even started and you were so ready for him. “Time I explored you.” His eyes looked up at yours as his tongue slid up your body and over your nipple briefly. He held his face in front of your breast, letting his breath tickling your hard bud. “Time I tested your limits.” He takes you in his mouth, sucking on your nipple, and letting his teeth graze you, your body shuddering with pleasure.

Looking up at you August’s voice is suddenly serious, “If you need me to stop, say Red.”

“Red to stop,” you repeat, letting him know you understand.

Letting go of your hands, August lifts you by your waist and sits you on the table. “Lay down, pet.” He says, pushing against your shoulder. He lifts your legs so that your heeled feet rest on his thighs. You moan, and want to draw your knees together, but you feel his hands on the inside of your thighs pushing them further apart. You are completely on display for him, you can hide nothing as he continues spreading your legs. You shut your eyes, tight. Your mind and body were in conflict. You were on fire, hot with lust and need, but your mind wanted to say no, to stop, you couldn’t stand the embarrassment.

“Spread your lips wide for me, pet. I want to see your cunt dripping wet for me.”

You shake your head, you can’t do that. It was too much. Already so exposed and naked, the thought of holding yourself open to him was too humiliating. “Please August,” you murmur “I can’t.”

The loud smack against your breast takes you by surprise. You hear the noise before you even register the pain. “August,” you cry. Your hands reach up, covering your breasts, and you try to rub the sting away.

“Hold yourself open. I want to see inside you.” August’s voice is low and firm, not angry, just stern. You lift your head to see him, he tilts his head and his whiskered lip curls in a cruel grin, almost like he was daring you to say no again.

Laying your head back on the table and squeezing your eyes shut, you move your shaking fingers down to your slit. You’re so wet and so aroused you struggle to hold your swollen petals apart. You hear August’s breathing start to quicken and his voice is barely above a whisper as he says, “Good girl.” You feel a finger slide teasingly over your exposed core and despite your shame your hips roll in desire. “You have such a pretty wet cunt, Pet.” His finger sweeps up your slit, his rough pad pausing on your clit. You gasp as he does, and a low moan escapes you parted lips.

August chuckles, “You’re very responsive, Pet. I like that.”

His finger moves back to your entrance, and with agonisingly slow movements he pushes his finger into you. You feel yourself clamping down on him already, you’re so desperate to be filled. Your hips start to rock as he curls his finger inside you, searching for your spot.

“Oh fuck,” you cry when he finds it, you unconsciously try to curl up into a ball as every muscle in your body contracts. Your hips move faster now, and you eagerly beg, “Please August.”

“You are an impatient little slut sometimes, pet,” August says as he lays an arm over you, stopping your undulating hips. “I think patience will be your next lesson, but lucky for you, today I want to watch you cum.”

Without warning, August pushes a second finger inside you. You cry out as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate him. You were so close to coming, your whole body felt pulled tight like an elastic, ready to spring apart when the tension got too much. Your fingers start to hurt as you hold yourself open. Even your fingers feel tight, ready for the release of your orgasm.

Your thighs start to tremble and you feel the warm wave start to rise from your toes. “Are you about to come pet?” You barely hear August through the fog bliss you’re feeling as his fingers dance inside you, coaxing you to your peak.

“Yes,” you say through your moans.

“Ask permission,” August says.

You’re so close you can’t make sense of his words. “What?” you ask.

“Ask me if you can cum. This is my cunt pet, I will control when you cum. Or I can stop now.”

You understand that threat, “No, no, please don’t stop.” Panting, and breaking out in sweat you say, “Please August, can I cum?”

“Yes, my needy little slut. Cum for me. Now.”

And you do. You don’t know if it was because he told you to or if it was because you were so close anyway, but when he said now, you felt a wave of warmth flood you. Your body pulsed and your core milks at his fingers and they keep hitting your spot. It feels like your orgasm lasts for an age and even as you come down from your high, you tremble in little after shocks.

You are in such a haze you don’t notice August removing his fingers until you feel both his hands on your knees, pushing them up and out as he stands. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he gives them a tug. Your ass is barely on the table and in your malleable state, you feel like you’re going to fall off, but he holds you there.

There’s a new sensation at your core, and you groggily sit up, resting on your elbows. You see August, cock in hand lining himself up. You whimper, not yet, you think. Augusts lifts his eyes and you’re caught once again in his piercing blue eyes. His shows you his teeth and grabs your throat as he impales you with his cock.

You would have thought that you would adjust to his size quicker after the euphoria of your orgasm, but you were wrong. You feel yourself reluctantly stretch around him, and despite the pain, as he fills you, tears you apart, it feels good, he feels good.

August pulls you up by your throat, and you wrap your legs around him for stability. You think he’s going to kiss you, but he studies your every facial expression, listens to every little moan as he starts to fuck you. Still feeling weak, every thrust from August throws you, his firm grip on your throat was the only thing stopping you from falling back on the table.

“You look so good, pet,” he grunts at you through his gritted teeth. “You look like a slut, with your pretty mouth moaning for more.” He leans in close to you, and growls into your ear, “But you’re not just a slut, pet. You are my slut.”

You cry out as he says it, his claim of you relights the fire between your legs and you start moving with him, trying to fulfil the growing need inside you. You grasp his shoulders, holding onto him as he keeps whispering in your ear, “You greedy girl, you want to cum again don’t you?”

“Please, August,” you say. He raises his head and sticks two fingers in your mouth, pushing them in deep, almost making you gag. As you build to your peak so does your boldness and this time you find Augusts eyes. You run your tongue around his fingers, before starting to tease them and suck on them.

August snarls as he watches, and increases his pace. You want to cum again, but you don’t want to stop sucking his fingers. But then August breaths a curse, “Fuck.”

You couldn’t hold it off now, you say around his fingers, “Pease August, can I cum?”

“Fuck, yes,” August is as lost as you are and as you fall over the edge, and your pulsing walls grip his cock he thrusts into like he wants to tear you in two. On his last pump he lets out a deep rumbling growl, before his whole body shudders. You had never seen a man who came like him, the way he doesn’t hold back, the way he lets his primal urges over take him, the noises, all of it was so fucking hot.

August leans his sweaty forehead against yours while you both get your breath back. His hand still holds your throat but he moves it under your chin, and with the gentleness that always surprises you, lifts it and kisses you with soft lips and a caressing tongue. You kiss him back, matching his mood, softly licking at his lips.

With a final kiss, August pulls away and helps you to your feet. “Ok?” he asks. You nod and he chuckles briefly, “Who knew you had both a degradation kink and a praise kink?”

You look away from him, embarrassment filling you. August sees it and lifts your face to his again. “I fucking love it,” he says. “Much more to explore.”

You smile, still a little shy about it, but not as embarrassed. “Come,” he says and takes you to his bedroom where you both get in bed and you lay like you had that morning.

You stay awake, pretending to sleep, keeping your breaths long and steady. Eventually August drifts off, and you wait until he falls into a deep sleep.

You slowly get out of bed and creep over to the dining table. You lift August’s laptop from the chair he had left it on. You open it and enter the password you saw him use on the plane. Your hands start sweating as the machine connects to the CIA network. You think you hear a noise and you look behind you, but you can see or hear nothing.

You type August’s CIA log in and enter another password. You are worried about this one, you aren’t sure if you had been able to catch all of it. You release the breath you didn’t realise you were holding when the CIA logo fills the screen.

You feel eyes on you and the hair on the back of your neck starts to rise. Terrified you turn around and come face to face with August and his unforgiving eyes. “What do you think you are doing, Pet?”

Part 5

Tag List:

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate

#august walker #august walker x you #august walker x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker smut #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill fic #fanfic #mission impossible 6

[voiceswithoutlips]

Calico - Chapter Two

— pairing: Hybrid ot7 x Human Reader (Female) — genre: hybrid AU , fluff, angst, slow burn (like real slow), eventual smut — word count: 2K — Rating: M — warnings: trauma, mention of past abuse.

Click for Tag List

— chapter summary:

Y/N runs a animal shelter, Calico was built on a simple principle, to help those who were in need. What will Y/N do when her sanctuary is threatened by an unexpected hybrid?

— A/N: This is going to be a series, I’m just getting back to writing, so I’d really appreciate your input and feedback <3

Ch. 1  Ch. 3  Ch. 3.5 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

I stumbled out of bed with a groan, it was almost noon and my hangover was killing me. Last night I was too stressed so I drowned my worries in a bottle of whisky. Why was adulting so annoying, ugh. The house was quiet, Jason had probably already gone to the shelter. I made my way to the kitchen, my zombie brain screaming for coffee. I like my coffee black and bitter, just like my soul. Kidding, I don’t have a soul. 

My phone rang somewhere in the living room. The place looked like a tornado had torn through it. The floor was covered with papers and cushions and clothes and other unidentifiable mess. What the fuck happened last night? By the time I found my phone the ringing had stopped. 28 missed calls from Jason and 2% battery ...great.  

I made my way to the exam room, the most likely place for Jason to be. It was just a five minute walk from the house. I was in my pajamas, my hair sticking out and the coffee cup in my hand. It was Sunday, I was grumpy.

There was a half-naked man sitting on the exam table, no not a man, a hybrid. His white fluffy tail was droopy. Long white ears poked from his long black hair, he desperately needed a haircut. His ears were limp on his back. There was a hole in his left ear, it was properly done but too big for a piercing. My eyes widened with realization, I’d seen that before on cattle, his previous owners must’ve tagged him. 

The hybrid showed no reaction as I went to stand beside Jason, and directly in front of him. His upper body was muscular, he had a thick neck and washboard abs. He was gorgeous. He had a strong jawline, cute eyes and a small nose. The combination of cute and sexy was deadly. His hands were clasped together and he was hunched over, trying to make himself look small, not an easy feat to achieve.  

“Y/N, this is Jungkook,” Jason introduced the hybrid. The bunny stiffened, he didn’t raise his head to look at me. What do I do? I wasn’t good with people, I preferred animals to humans.  

“Hello, I’m Y/N,” I greeted. He was sitting so still that you would think he wasn’t even there. Was he even breathing? He was still looking down. 

I looked at Jason, I didn’t know what to do. “I found him near the hatch this morning so I brought him in for a checkup.” I nodded. 

“Are you hungry? I’m practically starving!” I asked, extending a tentative hand towards the bunny, palm up. He flinched.  I kept my hand where it was. I would stand here for hours if I had to. My stubbornness knew no bounds. Minutes passed slowly, Jason was leaning on the counter perfectly at ease, he was a good actor. 

Slowly Jungkook took my hand. “Let’s go have breakfast,” I whispered, a smile on my face as I slowly led him to the kitchen. Well kitchen was an overstatement, it was a small room with six refrigerators and two freezers, most of them contained medical supplies. A sad, overused coffee machine and a small stove for “Emergency Ramen”, it was our own special recipe. 

I opened the fridge with a “No Science Allowed” poster taped to its door. I pulled out a bunch of greens to make a salad, rabbits need their greens. We always stocked the fridge for humans and the animals. I wasn’t a particularly good cook, I could cook enough to not starve but that was the extent of my cooking skills. A quick chicken salad, eggs and toast and a bunch of pancakes and breakfast was served. 

Jungkook was still standing near the door where I had left him, eyes downcast, ears flopped. I was an idiot, a massive idiot, I assumed he would sit at the table on his own. Bad Y/N! 

“Jungkook, come sit with me,” I mentally hit myself, it sounded like a command, I was terrible at this. I was used to animals, you tell them what to do, you can’t ask a dog if he’d like to sit with you, but Jungkook was a person. I can be an animal therapist but humans? They were beyond me. I didn’t know how to get to him.  

He sat at the table. I pushed the food in front of him, expecting him to eat, another mistake. Hybrids are supposed to obey, they don't do things on their own. I was supposed to tell him what to do. I wanted to pound my head on the table. Stupid Y/N. 

“What would you like to eat?” I asked in the gentlest voice possible, at least I hoped it was gentle. 

 No response.  

“Go on this is all for you,” I tried to be encouraging. 

 Nothing.

 “Tell you what, if you finish your breakfast, I’ll give you a treat,” his ears twitched. He tentatively picked up a fork and started eating. His movements were small, he barely made any noise as he chewed but at least he was eating. 

I was still confuzzled, it is a word, a made up word, but then again all words are made up words. Confused and puzzled. I had no idea how to approach him, do I treat him like a human or a rabbit. The ‘treat’ card worked but will it work every time? He was taking small bites, I wondered if the food tasted bad. Maybe I forgot to add sugar to the pancakes? Did I forget to season the salad? I sighed internally. He needed a proper meal but sadly, Jason and I were terrible cooks. We lived on take-outs and ramen. Maybe it was time to learn how to cook.

I stood up, he froze. I had to get him used to people. I ignored his stiff posture as I walked to one of the freezers and pulled out a container that held my favorite ice cream. It was ‘ice cream for breakfast’ kind of day. I didn’t bother with bowls, two spoons and I was back in my seat. 

“You know this is my absolute favorite ice cream in the entire world. It's called Chocolate Brownie Fudge with Marshmallows. It's like a little piece of heaven in a plastic container,” I offered him a spoon. He looked at it as if it was going to bite him. “Go on, it's your treat!” I encouraged with a grin. It was meant to be a small smile but he was too cute and the ice cream made me happy. 

I dug into the ice cream as if my life depended on it. Jungkook watched me curiously, the spoon still in his hand. He hadn’t finished his breakfast but it was a start. For me, it was Sunday, the day where I threw caution to the wind and ate what I wanted. He hesitantly took a spoonful of ice cream, watching me as if I was going to pull the container away from him and tell him it was a joke. 

As soon as the spoon touched his tongue his eyes lit up like christmas. “Amazing isn’t it?” I asked, taking another bite. He nodded excitedly. Apparently he had a sweet tooth. I pushed the ice cream towards him and watched him devour the whole thing in minutes. God he was adorable!

I settled down on the couch in my office, I desperately needed a shower but that’d have to wait. Jason had taken Jungkook back to our house, he was going to stay in the guest room for the time being. It's not like I was going to put him in the hybrid shelter building, nobody deserved that and he couldn’t stay as a rabbit forever. 

I had a file in front of me, a file on Jungkook. All hybrids are installed with a microchip and registered in the hybrid database as soon as they are born ...or rather created in the labs. Hybrids couldn’t procreate, they were made in labs owned by big corporations. Jason had scanned Jungkooks microchip, the file contained everything about his life.

He was created in Corebear Tech’s lab and sold at the age of six to a wealthy family as a pet for their son. He was sent back to the company when he was twelve because he had grown too big for a rabbit hybrid. Corebear Tech then sold him to Apexi Pharmaceuticals and I guess that’s where Yonu found him.

I felt …I didn’t know what I felt. Maybe a sense of defeat. Jungkook was twenty-three, he was in that lab for eleven years. He was just one year younger than me. I was lost. I couldn’t even imagine what he must’ve gone through. There was no way I was going to let Apexi take him back. I called Song Hwa and gave her the file. After all we had evidence to collect and a case to build.

“Not this again!!” I ran through the front door as soon as I smelled smoke in our kitchen. Jason was standing in front of the stove fanning a pot with a newspaper. 

“I was cooking rice, I don’t know what happened,” he said opening the windows.

I took a peek, the rice was black, utterly totally burnt. “Jason …you’re supposed to add water to cook it…”

“Oh,” Jason loved to cook, the problem was he just couldn’t. I was 200% sure that he was cursed by some evil witch. The moment Jason tries to cook, all hell breaks loose.  

“You’re on clean-up duty,” I grumbled. At least it wasn’t that bad, the cake incident was still fresh in my mind. Once upon a time, when we still lived in our dorm, Jason decided to bake a cake …in a pressure cooker. Needless to say, it was a disaster. The cooker blew up, damaging half the kitchen. Thankfully no one was injured.

I softly knocked on the guestroom door. Jungkook had spent the whole day in his room, not that I blamed him. New place, new people, it was bound to be scary.

“Hey Jungkook, you want to come out for dinner?” I asked. I could deliver him ramen to his room if he wanted but I hoped he’d come out and eat with us. Yes, we were having ramen, Jason and I still lived as we had lived in our dorm, the only difference was our house was nicer and we had a garden.

Jungkook opened the door, he hadn’t locked it. He scrunched his nose as soon as he stepped out. The house was full of burnt smell from Jason’s cooking adventure. The smell must be stronger for him.

“Yeah, Jason tried to cook rice. Pro tip, never eat the food that Jason makes, he’s a terrible cook. Do you want to come eat with us?” I asked. I got a small nod in return.

“Let’s gooooo!! Do you like ramen? We have a really good recipe, well its nothing special, we just throw in some bacon and rice cakes and of course a fuckton of cheese,” I rambled as he followed me to the dining table. “You can never go wrong with cheese, unless you’re Jason,” Jason made protesting noises, I rolled my eyes at him.

Dinner was a bit awkward. Jason and I kept trying to make Jungkook talk but it didn’t work. The poor bunny hadn’t spoken a single word since he’d arrived at Calico. The only thing we got out of him were small nods and silence. I wondered if we should consult a therapist. He was human after all and he needed help.

I heard a sharp gasp from my left. Jungkook’s eyes were huge, he was frozen in his chair. He had accidently knocked the salt shaker off the table.

“I’m so..sorry. Please don’t punish me. I’ll do anything,” his voice was so small, it made my heart ache.

“Oh honey no!” I said as I held his hands. “It was an accident. You remember what I told you? This is a safe space, you’ll never be punished here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?” I was mentally cursing myself for holding his hands on impulse. What if he didn’t like people invading his personal space? My worries were put to rest as he squeezed my hands.

“Okay,” he said in the smallest voice.

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#bts #bts ot7 #bts fluff #bts smut #bts x reader #bts x you #hybridbtsnetwork #bcc #btscreatorscorner #thebtswritersclub #bangtaninn #castlebangtan #hybridts #btsfanfiction #ot7 smut #ot7 fluff #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #park jimin #kim namjoon #jung hoseok #min yoongi #kim seokjin #sssc #calico

[thesightstoshowyou]

Home

Asa Emory x AFAB Reader (NSFW)

Part 5

Read Part 4 here

Summary: Being the favorite has its benefits.

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, implied age gap, biting, creampie

~~

             Warmth seeps into your skin, lights up the room behind your eyelids. In your semi-conscious state, you think it feels natural, like sunlight. This is impossible, of course. No sunlight reaches your cell.

             Yet, when you crack your eyes open, you must throw your arm over your face to block the piercing light. You sit up, scrunching your eyes shut. Where is it coming from?

             Slowly, you adjust. You peel your lids open and realize you have no idea where you are. You’re sitting on a bed, a real bed, with an ornately carved oak headboard. You glance over the rest of the antique furniture, the hard wood floors, thick wool rugs, en suite bathroom, because your gaze is drawn to the windows.

             Windows.

             Windows with blue sky beyond.

             Your bare feet meet hardwood and you stumble, catching yourself on the window sill. A shaky exhale leaves you, a single tear carving a path down your cheek. Sky, grass, sunlight, things you haven’t seen for the better part of a year.

             You’re in a house, a home, nestled between two others, more across the street. Down on the sidewalk, a child rides by on a bike, helmet glinting in the morning sun. A car passes, driver waving to the neighbor as they retrieve the morning paper. Life all around you, continuing on as normal, as though you haven’t been missing for eight months, oblivious to the constriction in your chest, your quiet gasps, your panicked jubilation.

             Where is Asa? How had you gotten here?

             You tear you gaze away from the street, cross the room, making it to the door before noticing what you wear. Not lingerie, but clothes. Specifically, pajamas, shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, and they fit you as though you had picked them out at a store yourself. You haven’t worn clothes in so long you’ve forgotten how comfortable they are.

             It is when you reach up to feel the fabric you notice what is on your left hand. Your eyes go wide and you bring your trembling hand to your face to inspect the ring on your finger. Your ring finger, to be exact.

             A delicate gold band wraps perfectly around the digit and holds a huge, diamond-shaped emerald—the same color as your right eye—surrounded by smaller diamonds that create a vintage, floral pattern. You swallow the lump in your throat, heart pounding in your ears, eyesight narrowing to the green stone shimmering in the sunlight spilling in through the windows.

             A clatter from downstairs breaks you out of the beginnings of a panic attack and you gulp down air when you realize you hadn’t taken a breath since you discovered the…engagement ring. The click clack of dog paws on hardwood reaches your ears. You have a sneaking suspicion to whom this house belongs.

             Carefully, you tiptoe down the hall, ease down the first set of stairs, wincing with every creak of wood under your bare feet. On the landing, you can see the front door. For a moment you’re flabbergasted, struck dumb by the dainty lace curtain covering the window. You try to imagine Asa in his usual black ensemble shopping at a department store, perusing the home décor.

             You shake your head, ridding yourself of the absurd visual before quickly sneaking down to the main level. Quickly, you take stock of your surroundings; antique furniture, glass terrariums housing preserved insects, leather bound books, fucking porcelain wash basin in the bathroom…. If you had thought to imagine what Asa’s home would look like, it would not have been this.

             Another quiet clink distracts you. Assuming it’s from the kitchen, you follow the noise, passing through the dining room. You round the corner and pause in the doorway.

             The first thing you notice is his clothes. You’ve never seen The Collector out of his black pants and sweater. Today, he’s dressed in light colored jeans and a sand colored button-up. It’s jarring and for a moment you almost don’t recognize him.

             He’s seated at the table, coffee mug in hand, eyes flicking quickly over the paper spread out on kitchen table. Asa must feel your eyes on him because he glances up, meeting your wide, teary gaze. He doesn’t speak, just assess you, waits for your reaction. You take this as permission to speak.

             “W-What…” you try, your voice breaking. You swallow thickly, willing your constricting throat to make noise, “W-What is…this?” You motion to everything around you. You mean for him to explain the situation but you can hardly find the words, swept up as you are by your tumultuous thoughts.

             Asa crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, propping an ankle up on his opposite knee before speaking, “You’re going to live with me now.”

             “O-Oh.” You have no idea what to say, where to even start. Live with him? Does he mean forever? Why? And why you?

             You’re never going home, are you?

             And what is with the fucking engagement ring?

             Your gaze drifts to the mug sitting on the table, half full of dark liquid. Your eyes flick to the coffee pot on the counter. A steadying breath fills your lungs and you focus on the rich scent in the air.

             “May I please have some coffee?” you whisper, hands trembling. Asa stands, retrieving a mug from a cupboard.

             “Cream or sugar?”

             “Just cream, please.” The clink of a spoon against ceramic makes you flinch. Asa sets the cup on the table with a quiet clunk. He crosses the room to stand behind you, placing his hands on your arms and steering you toward the table to seat you in the chair beside his. He drops back into his own chair, returning to the paper as though this is the most natural thing in the world.

             Your quivering fingers close around the handle of the cup. You take a sip, closing your eyes and savoring the first taste of caffeine you’ve had in so, so long. Gradually, your heart rate returns to normal.

             You knew you were never going home. That fact shouldn’t be the surprise here. If you’re being honest with yourself, this is the best-case scenario. You’re no longer a resident in the Collector’s house of horrors. You’re in a real house, a home, with coffee and windows with blue sky beyond.

             And you’re with Asa. You love him, right? You’d said so yourself.

             Twice.

             Asa folds the paper, tossing it into the recycle before bringing his mug to the sink. He comes to stand next to you and you glance up from your drink to meet his dark gaze.

             “You may go anywhere in the house. There’s a list of tasks for you to complete before I get home this evening.” He nods to the slip of paper lying on the counter. Plucking your left hand off the table and fiddling with the ring on your finger, he continues, “The dogs have been trained to attack if you try to leave the house. I recommend you stay away from the front door. Understand?”

             Quickly, you nod. You’re relieved to be given instructions. It will keep you occupied, keep you from thinking too much.

             “If someone comes to the door, ignore it. The neighbors are….” Asa glares out the window, taking a deep breath before continuing, “They like to pry. They already know you’re here, so expect them to come by after I leave.” You squirm in your chair at that, eyes widening. He fixes you with an irritable frown, “Do you have a question?”

             “They…you said they know I’m here? What…who am I supposed to be…to you?” Asa raises an eyebrow, lifting your left hand higher for emphasis.  

             “I think that should be obvious.”

             “Oh.” Releasing your hand, he turns and stalks from the room without a backward glance. The jingling of keys reaches your ears. The doorknob rattles, door creaking open. Stomp of boots, then a pause as someone outside speaks. Distantly, you hear a response and it takes you a moment to realize it’s Asa speaking.

             “Morning, Bob.” You’re stunned. You’ve never heard him sound so relaxed, so cheery, “Ah…yes, they’re…” an interruption, mumbling you can’t hear, then Asa again, “they’re just sitting down to breakfast…” another interruption. You’re almost afraid for the person speaking. Who would dare interrupt Asa this much?

             You remind yourself the neighbors don’t know him like you do.

             “Of course,” Asa relents. Clearer, you hear your name called as he steps back into the house and, “Will you come here please?”

             Please? Had he really said please?

             You leap up from your chair, half jogging through the dining room but slowing when you see Asa standing at the front door, one foot inside, one out. Minutely, he narrows his eyes at you. A warning. You nod and plaster a fake smile on your face.

             Discreetly, he taps his neck with his index finger. You pause, confused for a moment before remembering the thick, black collar around your neck. You must be getting used to it to have forgotten it so easily. Hastily, you unclasp the buckle, leaving it on the dining table as you pass.

             As you move through the entryway, you notice the dogs poised in the hall, ears perked, tense. Asa holds up a fist and immediately, they sit. He snakes his arm around your waist, fingers squeezing your hip as you he leads you out onto the front deck. An elderly couple, maybe mid-seventies, stand at the bottom of the porch steps. Their eyes widen upon seeing you.

             “Well, hello!” says the man, Bob, presumably, “Bit younger than I thought you’d be—

             Bob shuts his mouth when his wife elbows him. She smiles kindly and moves up the steps to extend her hand.

             “I’m Marilyn, and this loudmouth is my husband, Bob. Welcome to the neighborhood. We’re so happy Asa finally decided to settle down.” You try your best to rein in your expression. Settle down, huh? They have no idea.

             “Happy to be here,” you chirp, smiling up at Asa. You’re struck dumb by the warm smile he flashes back at you. You’ve only ever seen smirks, half smiles with cold, hard eyes, but this one lights up his face and makes your heart stutter.

             “Well, I better get going or I’m going to be late for work. See you tonight,” Asa presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head and you have to grit your teeth to keep your jaw from falling open in shock. Belatedly you smile after him, waving to the neighbors and hurrying inside, remembering what he’d said about the dogs.

             Falling back into the kitchen chair, you stare at the table, stunned. Asa really just lives two different lives and no one is the wiser. Belatedly, you wonder what he does for work. Do you dare ask?

             Better to finish your to-do list first. You’ll have time to think later.

*

             All Asa’s instructions are perfectly detailed, except the last one: Dinner. It’s just one word written in his flourishing script. Good thing you know how to cook.

             The pantry and refrigerator are well stocked, thankfully. It isn’t difficult to put together something decent. You’ve even found the ingredients for cookies. You hate the part of you that wants to impress him, but here you are, sliding a baking sheet into the oven covered in dollops of your grandmother’s chocolate chip cookie recipe.

             As if on cue, you hear the front door handle rattle. Instantly, you’re on edge, heart leaping up into your throat. Quickly, you scan over the list of chores, making sure you’d completed everything exactly how it is written. You’d hate to disappoint him your first day here. What if he sends you back to the trunk?

             When the clunking of boots on hardwood reaches your ears you spin around, smoothing the front of your dress and nervously looking at your hands. Do you kneel here? You’re not sure if the same rules he’d established at his…museum carry over to his home.

             “G-Good timing, dinner is—

             Your words die in your throat when your eyes meet his. Asa stands in the doorway, dark eyes pinning you to the spot with the intensity of his stare. There’s so much heat in his gaze it ignites a fire in your own belly until you’re biting your lip to stifle a whine.

             He’s across the room in three long strides, hand tangling in your hair and tipping your head back so he can crush his lips against yours. You mewl into his mouth and accept the tongue that prods against your own. Asa’s other hand goes to your lower back, pulling you in until you’re flush against his solid frame.

             “You were good today, weren’t you?” he states quietly against your parted lips. It’s phrased like a question, but he seems to already know the answer. You nod anyway, face burning under his scrutiny.

             Immediately, you’re spun around and shoved against the counter. Asa’s hands slip under your skirt, pushing it up to your waist, thumbs skimming along the flesh of your ass, across your hips, down your thigh until he’s dipping between your legs. Your breath hitches when his fingers tease through your underwear. His teeth find your neck, softly biting the spot just under your ear until you twitch and sigh, gingerly pushing back against him.

             Asa responds with another bite, harder this time, a quite growl in his throat. You whimper and his fingers dip into your underwear, gathering wetness from your dripping slit before gently stroking your clit. The movements of his digits are timed perfectly so your legs are trembling in minutes, hands gripping the counter for support.

             “A-Asa, I-I, please, I—

             He sinks his teeth into your neck hard enough to make you shriek. His other hand flies to your lips, two fingers pushing roughly into mouth until you gag. He keeps them there and grinds against your clit with the other hand, perfect little circles of pressure until your knees snap together and you arch, eyes scrunching shut as warmth explodes in your core.

             You’ve yet to come down from your high when you hear the clink of a belt, the slide of a zipper. Asa pushes on your back until you bend at the waist. He wastes no time in thrusting into your still spasming cunt, your squeal muffled by the fingers in your throat.

             Spit drips past your lips and trickles down your chin as Asa fucks you into the countertop. Every harsh pump of his hips brings a high moan up from your throat. You beg for more, words indistinguishable from screams as another orgasm builds.  

             His hand goes to your throat, making you arch more so he’s hitting that perfect spot within you. Three thrusts in and you’re done for, screaming around his fingers, cunt clamping down on the cock battering your slick muscles. Asa groans through clenched teeth, bucking into you a few more times before reaching his own end, coating your twitching cunt in hot white.

             Warm, panting breaths tickle your ear and he commands, “Say it.”

             “I-I love you. Thank you, S-Sir.”

             Your knees nearly buckle when he releases you. You cling to the counter, half-turning to face him. Immediately, he scoops you into his arms, whisking you from the kitchen and making his way to the stairs.

             “Um, dinner—

             Asa shushes you. You bite your lip. If the look on his face is anything to go by, you’re in for a long night.

#asa emory x reader #asa emory #the collector #the collector x reader #the collector (2009) #the collection #n sfw #guys those cookies are going to burn #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #stockholm syndrome #my writing

[tatooedlaura-blog]

The Warmest Thing I Own

Feeling good enough for the time being to attempt herding Mulder in a grocery store ... 

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

The following morning, she woke him up, stretching beside him, humming as her muscles flexed and moved, liquid twist of spine and limb. He felt her and opened his eyes, finding the room grey but light, “what time is it?”

Her voice scratched out an, ‘I don’t care’ before burying her head back in the pillow.

“Are we not caring today? ‘Cause I can get behind not caring today.” Reaching out to poke her side, “how are you feeling?”

Rolling in his direction, she gave him a smile that could have lit the city had she come with plug and adaptor, “I actually feel okay. I don’t think I’ve slept like that in weeks.”

“No nightmares?”

“No. Only dreams of farmhouses and men in kilts.”

Mulder laughed, “more than one?”

“Maybe.” Sighing deep, “it’s Saturday, right? Now, I know we’d normally share the worry today but I think I’d rather ignore it completely and go grocery shopping and maybe make dinner and eat a gallon of ice cream.”

“It’s actually Friday but I’m good with all that anyway.” Finally able to see the clock on her nightstand, “it’s 8:27 so I vote you call Skinner while I go shower, then we commence.”

Booping his nose, “you’ve got five minutes or I’m coming in.”

Good God.

He knew she was joking. Had to be joking. But he found himself washing a little slower than usual, wanted to see what she would do at the five-minute mark.

She stood outside the bathroom door at 4 minute, 45 seconds, hand on knob. She felt giddy and free and happy and relatively well and the thought of opening the door made her stomach tighten but would it be all kinds of stupid?

Five minutes.

She felt her hand turning the damn handle.

Just as Mulder pulled the door open.

She stumbled forward into wet flesh, towel around waist holding fast as Mulder took a step back, catching her in his arms, “hi there.”

Both knew she had been opening the door.

“Hi.”

“Almost didn’t make it.” Eyes sparking down at her, given he now knew she had been opening the door, “damn slow water heater.”

She was red.

It amused him.

“Were you coming in for something?”

Something, at the moment, in her mind, was removing his towel and taking him back into the shower but instead, she pointed around him, “toothbrush.”

His grin made her shake her head, slip under his arm, brush her teeth, and keep taking deep breaths.

They were both crazy.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Grocery shopping with Mulder was akin to herding cats. She looked left at something, he threw three things from the right into the cart. She questioned two of them and winning, turned right to replace them on the shelf while Mulder, pouting, turned left, tossing in two other things, plus a box of Twinkies.

Finally, she threated to make him sit in the cart and while he looked her square in the eye, evaluating life and limb, he reached up, tipping a box of CocoPuffs from the top shelf into the cart, never breaking eye contact.

By the end, they had at least remembered the juice boxes.

Steaks were the order of the day, Mulder waving away her cheap-ass $6.00 on sale frugal fingers in favor of the New York strips, thick, red, mouth-watering, and definitely not $6.00. Mistaking her longing look for hunger, he gently turned her away, “we need to cook them first.”

Swallowing, “I know.”

Mashed potatoes followed, “yes, I’m getting the box of potato flakes because real potatoes are too damn much work.”

“Fine by me.” Then came the three pounds of mushrooms, “who the hell is washing all these dishes?”

Mulder smiled, tossing a bulb of garlic in the cart, “dishwasher. You have one but you never use it. I’ll teach you how tonight.”

She just kept stealing glances at the steaks.

Ice cream came last, small tubs of chocolate, cherry, orange sherbet, mint, dark fudge, and peanut butter swirl, “I like variety. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m just wondering if either of us will be able to fit through the front door by the time we’re done.”

“You could stand to gain twenty pounds.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, bring reality into their fun but glancing at her, he saw understanding in her eyes, her hand finding its way into his for a moment, “I’d rather not do it all in one night, if that’s okay?”

She got a long hug for that, shoppers steering around the odd couple embracing in the freezer section but smiling at them regardless because, really, there’s nothing wrong with a little love in frozen foods.

Mulder paid the bill and Scully didn’t fight it, especially after she saw the amount of items he’d stashed in the basket under her radar, “how did I not see any of this?”

“Once you caught sight of the steaks, I could have jammed an elephant in here and you’d have never noticed.” Handing the cashier his credit card, “little woman’s got an appetite.”

Swatting him on the arm, “Mulder! Did you see how many things of ice cream you got? I don’t know how we’re going to fit all that in the freezer.”

The cashier grinned, handing him his card back, “you can always buy her a bigger freezer.”

“This is very true. Freezer shopping next.”

Scully gave up, “that’ll be tomorrow’s trip. We’ll just have to eat all this tonight.”

“Challenge accepted.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Back at the apartment, groceries spread from one end of the counter to the other, Scully was mid-ice cream put away when she stopped, hand shaking, head spinning. After a second, she turned to Mulder, his back to her, “I’m, um, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go lay down.” Her hand was already rubbing her forehead, “are you okay putting everything away?”

Turning, his stomach sank at how pasty pale she’d become in the last two minutes, “yeah. I’m fine. Go take a nap.”

She was already moving, one hand on the wall of the hall to steady herself as she headed to the bedroom. Once alone, he slowly, methodically, put the groceries in their proper places, shutting cupboards quietly, trying not to rattle pasta or click jars. Five minutes and a fully stocked kitchen later, he realized it was only a little after one. She’d made it four hours. It had been a good four hours but …

If he dwelled on that, he’d scream at the top of his lungs, cursing the sky, fist shaking in the air. Instead, he pulled the mushrooms back out, deciding some manual cooking labor would keep his mind occupied.

That and trying not to cut the tips of his fingers off.

Three pounds of mushrooms, a stick of butter, six cloves of garlic, a teaspoon of salt, and ½ that of pepper later, and small, diced onion to boot, he set her crockpot to warm, snapped the lid tight, and wondered what next.

Sheets.

Put the sheets in the dryer.

Checking that the stains were gone, he hit the button to set the machine humming.

Clean up.

Last night’s Chinese cartons and chopsticks were still on the coffee table. Trash. Check.

Take out the trash. It smelled. He killed five minutes tying the bag, walking it to the garbage chute. Coming back inside and locking the door.

Then he stood there. Tight circle rotating, trying to find something else.

He knew what he wanted to do but felt he shouldn’t. She was fine. She would yell for him if need be.

Bu something kept pulling him in the direction of her bedroom.

“Fuck it.”

He made his way to her door to find her curled on the bed, small lump under thick covers. Stealing to the other side, he carefully lay down, sliding under the quilt in silence. If she wanted to, she could hit him later for arriving in her bed unannounced.

He would love it if she had the strength to hit him hard enough for it to make an impact.

Then again, she’d hit him before and it never made an impact.

It mostly just made him more stubborn and annoying.

He couldn’t help a small smile as he thought about how irritating he could be but she just kept coming back anyways.

She’d come back from this, too. She had to.

She had no choice.

He could see the tension in her face, even while asleep, forehead wrinkled, eyebrows tight. Reaching out, he began massaging between her eyes, imaging that fucking tumor only an inch below his thumb. How the hell could they not take the damn thing out? It was right there.

Right.

There.

Another thought he had to banish from his mind or screaming would ensue, he kept rubbing, watching her face slowly relax, pinched look disappearing, “mmmhmm.”

Soft sound in the back of her throat told him to keep going, small circles, occasionally venturing to the round bones surrounding her eyes, the bridge of her nose, up to her hairline. Another ‘hhmmmm’ later, then a deep sigh, she rolled to her back, making his task a little harder, arms more awkward in their reach.

Shifting slightly, arm now across her chest, he continued. Feeling himself drifting off, his thumb movements lighter and slower, he felt her turn her head, face him, “Mulder?”

“Hi.” Rolling towards him once again, her hands slipped under his arm and one palm to his face, she moved forward, kissing him. Shocked, he pulled back after a moment, “are you awake or asleep?”

He saw her suddenly blink, head shake, both signs she was just waking up, “what? Mulder?”

Knowing she didn’t recall anything because there was no embarrassment turning her red, no heat in her cheeks, eyes innocently confused, “nothing. You said something and I thought … I just wasn’t sure if you were awake. Go back to sleep.”

Caught in limbo of dreams and Mulder, she didn’t care, and scooted closer, into his arms, “you are the warmest thing I own.” Snuggling into him, about as up close and personal as they could get fully clothed on a Friday afternoon, “I like it.”

She so totally did own him and he would be perfectly fine declaring that by billboard, sky writer, or booming voice from the sky. Lips to her forehead, he left them there as he agreed, “I do, too.”

&&&&&&&&&

#msr #My writing #MulderNScully #xfiles fanfic #xfiles #cancer arc #Our Moments series #txf fanfic #feeling good enough to brave a grocery store #five-minute shower ultimatums

[lexosaurus]

I Love You

My fic for day 5 of DP Side Hoes Week (yes I’m a day behind). 

Character: Jazz Theme: Hospital

This oneshot exists within my Everything Was White fic series [ao3]. You do NOT have to be following Everything Was White to understand this fic, this one exists as a prequel in the timeline and I give enough context in the text for anyone to be able to understand it. 

Okay, enjoy!

---

Jazz sat on the armchair, her gaze blank. Hazy. She hadn’t moved since she sat down some time ago. Time moved without reason, and she wasn’t sure how long it had been. Her back hurt and her lips were chapped, but she hardly noticed her discomfort.

The only thing that mattered was the person laying on the bed before her.

The person she hardly recognized.

Four weeks. That’s how long he had been missing from their lives, that’s how long the Guys in White had him. Twenty-eight days on the dot.

She could never forget his eyes as he was dragged out the door. They were wild, desperately staring down their parents who were both pinned down by government agents with guns trained to their heads. He screamed, struggling against his captures. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

Because in the end, he was thrown in the back of a white van. All while Jazz stood on the stairs doing nothing. 

She should have freed him. She could have helped. But she was too weak. 

Too weak.

Her eyes stung, and she wanted to cry. Break down. Sob. But she had already used up her stock of tears hours ago, when she finally saw him for the first time since he’d be transferred out of critical care.

He was frail, tiny. Nothing but skin and bones. His body was scarred, torn, encased in gauze and casts. Doctors fluttered about, talking in hushed tones as they analyzed her brother’s body. They tried not to show it, but Jazz knew they were baffled by him.

There was talk about his injuries. He hadn’t woken up yet, at least not completely, but Jazz was already told of the more...drastic injuries.

The Y scar on his chest.

The paralysis.

The starvation.

No one knew what the permanent effects were going to be. No one knew how he was going to fair once he woke up. But there was one thing they all knew for certain, a truth that none of the Fentons had said out loud yet: 

Danny was not going to be the same anymore.

She crumbled, allowing her head to fall into her hands. Apparently, she still had more tears to give. A sob tore its way from her throat, pulling with it a wave of emotions that Jazz had just spent the last few hours desperately trying to repress.

She was tired. So, so tired. And yet, this nightmare refused to end.

“Danny, I—I’m so sorry.” Jazz’s voice was raw. The naked truth was hanging right there in front of her, the consequences of her complete failure. 

She should have been there for him during the ghost fight. The one between him and Skulker that ultimately led to his revelation right there high in the skies in front of the entire town. She could have helped him.

She should have known the Guys in White would then come surround their house and take him.

She should have tried harder to find him and break him out of the government compound. They tried so hard, but they couldn’t find the stupid building.

She should have practiced her questions better in court. Maybe then the jury would have decided sooner. She could have gotten him released before he was hurt so bad.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

“I love you so much, Danny. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

---

“You alright there, son?” Jack asked. He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

It didn’t seem to matter. Jazz doubted Danny even heard their father’s question. She was honestly questioning if he even realized they were in the room.

His eyes wandered around the room as if he were still trying to take in the walls of the hospital. He woke up four days ago, and yet every day had been the same blank wandering gaze. 

Jazz hoped it was just the pain medication the hospital was giving him. She desperately clung onto the belief that her brother would snap out of it one day and would come home and he would be back to normal.

Back to how he was before.

“Your mother and I are going to meet with the surgeon.” Jack put an arm around Maddie, pulling her into his side. 

Her face was white, streaked with red as if she’d been crying recently, and the bags under her eyes had never been so pronounced. But Jazz couldn’t blame her. After all, she probably looked more or less the same.

“Stay with Danny, alright? We’ll come grab you after.”

“Sure, Dad,” Jazz said, putting on a smile she hoped was comforting.

Her mother muttered something that Jazz didn’t catch, and then both parents were gone. 

And Jazz was alone. With Danny.

Again.

She turned back to face him. The doctors had said that he’d sustained significant brain damage, and they weren’t sure yet how much communication he would be able to do. He was too drugged up still, too out of it. 

He couldn’t speak, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand her.

Or maybe that was her hopeful side talking again. She shouldn’t get her hopes up. She would only be hurt in the end.

“Hey, Danny,” Jazz tried. Her voice was thin. Dry. She tried to wet her lips and spoke again. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re comfortable. If you were wondering, you broke your spine. I mean, I’m sure you already knew that but—” Her voice cracked. “—you know. That’s why you, um, might be uncomfortable right now. It’s the brace.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her.

Just continued staring at the ceiling.

Jazz wondered if anything was going through his mind. If he had any questions. She would if she were Danny. 

She tried to imagine the sort of things he would say. His voice, crackling through the throes of puberty, as he poked fun at her in that annoying way only a brother could accomplish. She tried to envision a world where he could still do that.

And she tried not to think about the fact that there was a good chance that she’d never hear his voice again.

“Your SCI was incomplete, you know. So there’s still a chance…” Jazz shook her head. 

There she was getting hopeful again. 

“Everyone really missed you, Danny. I—I really missed you.”

He blinked slowly. In her imagination, Jazz heard him say “I missed you too.”

“I love you.”

He didn’t respond.

---

“What band are we in the mood for today?” Jazz asked, scrolling through her playlist.

Danny was starting to come to. He seemed to be able to hold eye contact, albeit not for very long, and his minute facial expressions showed at least some understanding of what was happening around him.

Although, he still hadn’t spoken yet.

Jazz glanced brightly down at him. Now that she knew he was conscious of her presence, she couldn’t afford to show up at the hospital in sweats with her tear-stained face anymore. She had to be there for him. She had to be strong.

Maybe she had been too weak to help him before. Maybe back then, she had failed him.

But she would be damned if she wasn’t strong enough to help him now.

“What do you think? MCR? Blink-182?” she asked. “I got these band names from Sam, by the way. So if she lied to me about what music you listen to now, don’t blame me.”

Danny just stared at her with his owl-ish expression.

“Here, if you want, you can choose.” Jazz held her phone screen out in front of him, watching as his eyebrows scrunched up ever so slightly as he gazed up at the screen.

Jazz felt her smile falter for a split second before she pulled her phone away and straightened herself up on her chair.

She had to be strong.

“It’s okay, I’ll just choose one.” She tapped the screen and set her phone down. 

The sound of over-compressed guitars filled the tiny bluetooth speaker on the windowsill, and Jazz beamed down at Danny, waiting for that tiny flicker of recognition to hit his face.

And, to her delight, some of the fog in his eyes momentarily lifted. He looked over to Jazz as if he were seeing her for the first time, the shock and disbelief seeping through the blank slate that was his expression.

Jazz was hardly able to keep the glee out of her voice. “You like it?”

His eyes flickered between Jazz and the bluetooth speaker. Back and forth again before settling back on the ceiling.

“Well, I’ll have to thank Sam for the recommendation later! She can’t wait to see you, you know. The doctors are only allowing family in your room right now, but maybe next week if you’re feeling up to it, Sam and Tucker can stop by. I don’t want to make any promises right now, but you never know.”

Danny’s eyes slowly traveled around the ceiling.

“Are you thirsty?” Jazz asked. “Hungry? Well, you’re probably not hungry. Doctors have been monitoring your nutrient intake a lot. I’m glad, too, because you have some color in your face again.”

His eyes shut, and a content smile twitched on his face.

Jazz couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked so peaceful.

“I love you, Danny.”

He didn’t respond. 

---

Danny was home now. That should have been a good thing. 

It should have been.

And it was. In so many ways, it was wonderful having him home again.

But in so many other ways, it wasn’t.

Jazz had been under some illusion that once he made it home, things would go back to normal. Sure, he would be in a wheelchair until his PT started, and he might not be able to turn into a ghost for a few weeks either, but her brother would be home. 

Except, Danny never came home. Physically, he did. But mentally he was still trapped somewhere far away.

He was talking now at least. He’d started talking the week before he’d left the hospital. He wasn’t able to speak in full sentences, at least not without pausing, and he wasn’t able to really understand long sentences either, but this was a start.

Jazz wanted to hope that things would get better, but hope was a dangerous drug.

After all, even though he’d started speaking again, he still refused to talk about what happened to him. Anytime Jazz would try to bring the conversation up, he’d clam up and close off for the rest of the day.

And that hurt. It hurt so bad. She so desperately wanted to be there and support him, to help him talk through the trauma he’d experienced, but he just didn’t want to.

But that was okay. It had to be okay. She had to be strong.

She stood in front of his door, pausing only to compose herself before knocking.

He didn’t acknowledge her knock, but Jazz wasn’t expecting him too. He was trying to isolate himself, and Jazz wasn’t going to let him.

She’d already failed him once. 

“Good morning, Danny!” Jazz bursted into the room, her voice chipper despite the fact that she hadn’t slept last night.

She doubted that Danny did either.

Danny was lying on top of his comforter, already dressed. Their mom must have gotten him situated before shutting herself down in the lab.

Their parents seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

“Come on, get up. I come bearing an activity!”

“Too early,” Danny grumbled.

Jazz ignored him, sauntering into the room brandishing a large, easy piece jigsaw puzzle she’d just ran out to buy that morning.

It was hard to find one for kids that wasn’t either a princess castle or a race car scene. Fortunately, the store had one on sale that had colorful, cartoon baby ghosts covering the image.

“Either you get up, or I drag you up. Either way, you’re doing this puzzle with me.”

“Puzzle?” Danny asked.

Jazz tried not to stare as he struggled upright, only swooping in to set his pillows upright behind him. “Yeah, puzzle.”

She set the box down in front of him, pulling off the lid and revealing the large pieces in front of him.

“That’s...so Boring.”

“Well, the doctors still want you avoiding screens for a little while longer. I figured this was better than staring at the wall.”

Danny eyed the box, his face impassive. 

“Here, wait.” She went out into the hallway, grabbing a large piece of cardboard from the wall. “I brought something to make the puzzle on. Figured it would be easier than the mattress.”

“Okay.” He picked up one of the pieces, inspecting it slowly as if he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“So…” Jazz plopped herself down on the mattress next to Danny and put the cardboard over their laps. “What do you think we should do first?”

Danny gazed blankly down, his eyes trailing between the cardboard and the puzzle piece in his hand. He blinked, and then put the puzzle piece down on the cardboard.

“Okay, we can start with that one!” Jazz chirped.

“No…” Danny ran his hand through his hair. “No that’s not...need to sort.”

“Oh?” Jazz grabbed another piece from the box. “So what should I do with this one then?”

Danny gazed quizzically over at Jazz, grabbing the piece to inspect it. “Edge,” he finally said, setting the piece down on the opposite side of the board from the first piece.

“So we’re sorting the edge pieces from the regular pieces?” 

Danny hummed, grabbing another piece from the box.

“Sounds like a good plan!”

They worked together in near silence after that, Jazz only stopping every so often when she could feel Danny’s attention slipping to ask him to help her sort a piece. It was almost cute how determined he was to complete the task correctly. It almost reminded Jazz of the quiet determination that would slip onto his features in the moments just before he transformed into Phantom. 

Solving the puzzle was a whole different beast. If Jazz were honest, she wasn’t sure if they would have been able to finish in one sitting. Danny still tired far too rapidly throughout the day, and he still slept for more hours than he was awake.

But finally Danny snapped the last piece into place, completing their simple blob ghost picture.

“Nice job!” Jazz put her hand up for a high five.

Danny blinked, slowly processing the motion, before his brain caught up and he gave a little smirk, a tiny eye roll, but met Jazz’s hand all the same.

She put the cardboard with the now completed puzzle on the floor before sitting back against the fluffy pillows. Breathing out, she allowed herself to sink back into the cushions for just a moment.

She was so tired. 

Her brain swirled, and she wanted to sink deeper into the darkness. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t allowed to.

“Are you asleep?” Danny asked.

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

A quiet trepidation settled over the pair. Jazz could feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air like forbidden fruit ripe for picking. But the apples were just out of reach, and she knew the branches wouldn’t sink lower until Danny was ready. 

But he had to come home first. He would never be ready to tell her what happened until he finally came back to them. And Jazz didn’t know how long that would take.

“I love you,” Jazz said.

Danny didn’t respond.

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #dp side hoes week 2021 #everything was white #no beta!! #my writing #phicc #i'll probs go back like next week and actually edit this oneshot #but not rn during the event week

[mattmurdocksscars]

Make It Back

I wasn’t gonna post this, honestly. Was gonna keep it to myself, possibly forever, but I decided against that. Have some angst with a happy ending on this lovely Halloween!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, Mentions of hallucinations, canon-typical injuries

Summary: When you don’t return from a mission, Poe breaks down. What he doesn’t remember is that you’ll do anything you can to make it back to him.

Ringing. 

All Poe can hear is ringing. That and one sentence on repeat.

"I'm sorry, Poe, she didn't make it back."

He's in his room now but the last thing he remembers before that is being in the hangar and a member of your squadron saying that to him. How did he get here? What… what did he mean you didn't make it back? You always came back…

His door slides open with a schick and Finn steps through, regarding him as if Poe is a wounded animal and it's enough for Poe to know. This isn't a cruel joke or a dream, you're really gone. Tears well and spill over and Poe screams, Finn rushing to his side and pulling the man into his chest. Poe rages and cries and Finn holds him all the while. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to ask you to marry him. He was supposed to live the rest of his life with you, maybe even have kids one day. He was supposed to get to grow old with you.

It's not fair.

----

You come to with a lurch, your body screaming out with pain. Your nostrils are filled with smoke and ash, forcing coughs from your lungs that don’t help with pain. You try desperately to remember how you got here, what was going on, but it takes a few moments for your brain to catch up and fill you in. 

You were flying a mission with your squadron when the First Order had attacked. You had given the order for your team to get out of there and they had all made the jump to lightspeed when your ship had gotten hit. Looking around, you realized you must have managed to make it to the planet that had been nearby before going down. You were just in your seat, so you had to have been ejected from your ship. Based on the smoke to your left, you would guess the rest of it would be that way. With a shaky breath, you start to take stock of your injuries.

There’s shrapnel buried in your left shoulder, you’re fairly certain a couple of your ribs are at the very least cracked, but otherwise it’s just bruises and scrapes. You got out very lucky. With shaky hands, you pull your helmet off and cut yourself free from your harness, stumbling up onto your feet and looking around. 

The planet you’re on is forested and you’ve landed next to a creek. The smoke you can see from what you assume is the wreckage of your ship doesn’t seem to be too far off in the distance so you decide to make the trek to it. If you’re lucky, the emergency supplies will still be intact and you’ll be able to call for help. Pausing long enough to gather up the parachute since it could be helpful later, you then make your way through the woods. 

It’s a long trek, the underbrush hindering your progress, and when you finally get to the clearing your wrecked ship is in, you’re stumbling from the pain. You survey your ship and immediately know there’s no way it’s getting back in the air. One of the wings is ripped clean off and the hull is battered to hell. Thankfully, the ship is only smouldering and no longer on fire, so you’re able to make your way to the cockpit. Rooting around, you manage to locate the emergency kit and with a lot of effort, you haul it out of the ship. As soon as it hits the ground, you sink down next to it and begin going through it.

The first thing you pull out is the medkit. Removing the supplies you need and setting them out in front of you, you take a steadying breath before reaching up, wrapping your fingers around the piece of metal in your shoulder, and pulling it out. You can’t stop the scream that bursts from your chest, throwing the metal away from you as soon as it is out. With shaky hands, you grab a bacta shot and bury the needle into your upper arm, pushing down on the plunger and letting the medicine work through you. Even using the shot instead of the patches, it takes several long minutes before the wound begins to close up. By the time it closes most of the way, you’re woozy from the blood loss and pain. Black creeps along the edges of your vision and it takes everything in you to stave it off. You force yourself to work through it, placing a bacta patch over what’s left of the wound and wrapping it. Once that’s taken care of, you search through the rest of the kit to find the distress beacon and activate it. All that you can do now is wait. 

You make yourself a make-shift shelter with items from the emergency kit, under the remaining vestiges of daylight. You slowly start to feel better as the bacta works its way through your system and by the time you finish setting up camp, you’re able to breathe without pain. Your shoulder is still tender, so you make a sling using a section from the parachute. Crawling into your improvised tent, you settle down to wait.

It takes 4 days before someone lands on the planet, having been alerted by your distress beacon. You’re thankful to discover it’s a crew of rebel sympathizers and they take you in readily, offering to drop you at the nearest inhabited planet. You accept and they drop you off on Corellia. It takes you another 5 days to find a safe ship to take you to the Resistance base and when you finally step foot on the tarmac on Ajan Kloss, you nearly cry in relief. Your first and only thought is to find Poe, wanting the safety of his arms after such a harrowing experience but you barely make it a few feet before you’re being hauled around and into someone’s arms. 

“Red?! You’re alive?!” It’s Rey and her shoulders shake as she sobs against you. Absolutely bewildered, you cautiously put your arms around her.

“Y-Yeah? Am I not supposed to be?” You try to joke with her but your comment just makes her cry harder and you panic. “I was joking, oh stars. I’m sorry. Please stop crying?”

“We- Your squadron said you didn’t make it. We thought…” Rey trails off, pulling away to look at you. Your heart sinks as realization hits you. Of course they thought you were dead. You didn’t return with your squadron and it had been a week and a half now since that mission. 

“Oh, Rey. I’m so sorry for doing that to you guys… There was an ambush and my ship went down. I got back as soon as I could…” You explained and she nodded, pulling you in for another hug.

“I’m just glad you’re alive.” You lean against her for a few moments before you suddenly suck in a sharp breath, yanking yourself back from her and looking at her in panic.

“Poe? Where is he? He thinks… fuck, Rey, where is he?!” Rey’s eyes widen as well and she grabs your hand, pulling you along behind her as the two of you race through the base. She leads you to his quarters but stops you before you go in. 

“Just.. he hasn’t taken it well. Finn’s in there with him. We’ve been having to stay with him in shifts… So just, be ready for that.” She warns you and you nod, feeling a lump rise in your throat at her words. She opens the door and steps in, you following behind her and you survey the scene before you. 

Finn is sitting in the chair at Poe’s desk, looking over a datapad but when he looks up and sees the two of you enter, he stands so quickly that the chair clatters over. He breathes your name, almost as if he’s afraid to say it out loud and crosses the room to crush you into a hug. You accept it but the entire time, your eyes scan over the room as you search for Poe. When you finally catch sight of him, you feel tears well up and spill over.

He’s curled up on the bed, making himself as small as possible with his back to the wall. His eyes are barely open and he’s just staring straight ahead. He’s grown a beard and his curls are disheveled and you’re guessing he hasn’t showered in sometime. But what really breaks your heart is the fact that he’s clutching on to one of your jackets. He’s got it held tight to his chest and every few moments you see his nostrils flare and you realize he’s breathing in your scent. Finn pulls away when he feels you shaking and you look between him and Rey with a heartbroken expression. Finn’s hand comes up to squeeze your shoulder and Rey takes your hand in hers again, squeezing your fingers. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you wipe your face and slowly walk up to Poe and kneel in front of him. His eyes don’t even focus on you, he just keeps staring ahead.

“Poe? Baby, I’m here.” You whisper to him and he finally focuses in on you, but you don’t get the reaction you were expecting. Poe laughs, a bitter sound that echoes in the room.

“Oh, this is just great. Finn, buddy, she’s back! Not that you can see her, but she’s here again.” Horror slips through you as you realize he thinks you’re not real. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?! It’s bad enough that you’re- that you’re-”

A choked sob leaves him and without even thinking you move to console him. You slip a hand into his curls, cupping the back of his head and bringing his forehead to rest against yours. His eyes go wide at the gesture, his mouth falling open and tears starting to slip from his eyes.

“Poe Dameron, I did not just fight to get back to you for you to think I’m not real. I’m here, baby. I’m real.” You tell him, your free hand going to one of his. He fights you at first, but you manage to get one of his hands free and place it against your chest so he can feel your heartbeat. At this, a sob does leave him and he launches himself at you. It sends you both to the ground, Poe wrapping himself around you as you both cry. You’re sure his hands will leave bruises from how hard he’s holding onto you but you are likely going to do the same to him. You're not sure how long the two of you lay there, sobbing together, but Finn and Rey eventually sneak from the room and leave the two of you together. When Poe finally calms enough to speak, his tone is still broken.

"I thought-" He gasps, shuddering against you and burying deeper into you, "I thought- "

"Shhh, Poe. I know. I'm so sorry, baby. But I'm here. I made it back to you. I'll always make it back to you."

Later, you'll help each other clean up and will spend the night wrapped in each other's arms. But for now, you'll lay here and hold him, reassuring him that you did indeed make it back to him.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fic #angst #hurt #aha #don't hate me for this lol

[marvelship-oneshots]

ADOPTION 1(SUPERFAMILY)

AU where Tony sees Peter and wants to adopt him but but he has to be married to adopt and Steve jumps in to help him [1.5k words]

It was a very grey morning in November when Tony's life changed forever. An elementary school had a visit planned for that morning and him, not having anything to do, made sure to think of something funny for the kids. It was at that moment that Tony was struck by lightning. It was not a tall, handsome, blond man, like he had always thought would happen, but it was a cute 5-year-old kid. He had always loved kids, his biggest dream was to be a father, but, being a gay man, he didn't have the means to make a baby. He asked Pepper to surrogate for him, but, well, she shut him out before he could finish asking the question. But when he saw that kid in the corner of the break room, looking at his classmates having a snack, he just knew that that kid was going to be in his life much, much longer. Tony looked at the kid and then at his donut. He walked to him and sat on the floor. "Hey kid,  did you have a snack?" Peter shook his head and took the donut that Tony was handing him. "What's your name kiddo?" "Peter" he whispered so lightly that Tony almost didn't hear him. "Well, hi Peter, I'm Tony" Peter shook Tony's Han with his little, chubby and full of powdered sugar once.

"What's the deal with tha kid?" Tony asked the teacher while they were waiting for the kids to go back to their school. "His parents died a few years ago and living in the orphanage is pretty hard on him" Tony nodded, looking at Peter running on his short chubby legs towards his friends. Once the kids left, Tony went back to his office, thinking about little Peter. Pepper joined him short after, bringing him lunch. "Penny for your thoughts?" Tony took a bite of his bagel. "Mh yeah. I want a kid" Pepper stopped chewing and looked at Tony. "I've already told you-" "Yeah yeah, I know. Just, find out what do I have to do to adopt the Peter kid from today's class"  They finished their lunch in silence, while Pepper worked on her tablet to find the information Tony asked her. "This is the agency that is handling his case" Pepper said, handing him the tablet. "Get me an appointment" "Yeah, about that" Pepper pointed at a section of the website "They only want couples- married couples" Tony looked at Pepper. "Oh no, no, no no. Definitely no. I said I won't be carrying your child, and sure as hell, I won't be marrying you" "Oh God, no. Nevermind, I'll figure something out"

That night it was their weekly trivia night at the local pub, wanted by Steve, of course. The night went as any other trivia night. Everything rolled fine, until people started getting mad because, obviously, it was not fair having the genius duo Banner and Stark in the same team. And, like every week, Tony would stay late, getting way too tipsy to drive himself back home and Steve, being the old-fashioned gentleman he is, would drive him home. Tony slid his glass towards the barman. "Another" The bartender filled the glass with top shelf whiskey and, when he saw Steve sitting next to Tony,he poured a blond beer from the tap. "I want a kid, Steve" "I know. You mentioned it. Pepper still doesn't want to surrogate?" Tony shook his head. "I saw this kid today- orphan kid- during the field trip. He's so cute, y'know? You should see him" "And you want to adopt him?" Tony nodded. "But? There's a but, right?" Tony chuckled. "They'll let only married couples adopt" Steve took a sip of his beer. "You would have made an amazing father" "Yeah, I think that too" Steve scoffed, shocking his head. "Don't even ask. Pepper is not marrying me" Steve lightly laughed. "This might be the whiskey talking, but...will you, y'know...?" The blond man looked at Tony, arching his eyebrows, as if he already knew what Tony wanted to say. "What? To marry you for the adoption to go though?" Tony shook his head. "Forget it. It's crazy, I know" "It is" Steve took a sip of his beer "It is, but yes. I'll marry you" Tony and Steve looked at each other and burst out laughing. "For real though. I'll marry you"

Tony pulled up in front of the courthouse in his flaming red Ferrari. Pepper was already waiting for him in a white suit with a knee-long pencil skirt and her signature high heels. "You're late" Tony closed the black jacket, hiding a white graphic t-shirt. "Well, the bride is usually late" he said, putting his sunglasses in the top pocket of the jacket. "This is totally crazy. And borderline illegal. You know that right?" Tony scrolled his shoulders as he held the door open for pepper. Steve was already there, in his Captain uniform. He was trying to look at himself in the small mirror while Bucky was fixing his tie. "Your groom has arrived" Steve turned towards Tony, holding out his hand. "You ready?" "You don't have to do this, you know right?" Steve smiled down at Tony. "I know. But I want to" he said, opening the door.

"Mr Stark, Mr Rogers, good morning. Please take a seat" Tony and Steve sat in front of the judge desk. "I see you brought witnesses" Bucky and Pepper shyly smiled at each other. The man in the black robe started listing every duty and right that would come with the marriage, asking them an exaggerated number of questions. "Mr Stark, sign here" Tony took the pen Pepper was handing him and signed where the judge had drawn a little x. "Mr Rogers, sign here" Steve took the pen from Tony's hand and signed right under Tony's signature. Pepper and Bucky were the next to sign, right before the judge started putting stamps on the different pages. "By the power invested in me by the state of New York, I pronounce you husband and husband" Steve and Tony shook the judge's hand and took their certificate. Tony took Steve by the arm as they walked out. "Let's go adopt a kid" "I was thinking, maybe a little celebration is in order"

Steve and Tony were sitting in the diner right on the other side on the street from the orphanage, sharing a milkshake because that's what couples do, right? Tony slid across the table a small velvet box. Steve opened it, revealing two little gold bands. "I figured that we might need those" Steve giggled and put the smallest ring on Tony's ring finger, then, Tony did the same with the other ring. "Let's get you that baby" Steve said, putting an arm on Tony's shoulders after Tony slid a bill on the table. They crossed the street and walked into the tall, grey building. Tony shrugged when he saw an old secretary walking towards them. "What can I help you with?" Her voice gave the chills to Steve, who looked at Tony with an horrified look. "We would like to adopt a kid" The old lady looked at them, shook her head, called the headmaster's office and showed them to the waiting room. "Sit here" she said harshly, pointing to the wooden chairs along the corridor. "She's nice" Tony said and Steve cracked a smile. A few minutes later, the headmaster opened the door. He was a very tall, slim man, with short, perfectly grasped hair. He was wearing a brown jacket, way too big for his figure. Steve and Tony looked at each other as if they knew what went through the other's mind. Because they did. They always knew what the other was thinking. They had this thing, where their brains were always synchronised and this was the cause of the many fights with the others during game nights. "Please" he pointed at the chairs "So, you said you wanted to adopt" "Yes, the Peter kid" The old man nodded. "As you know, adoption is reserved only for-" 'Straight couples' Tony thought, already thinking the worst. "-married couples" "Yes, we know that" Tony said as Steve took his head. "We got married. Today actually" The man slightly smiled. "You know it's going to be a long, long process" Steve and Tony nodded. "Preliminary interviews with you, your friends, your family, home visits and then, only if you're suitable, you'll start fostering and then after a while you can adopt" They nodded again. "We understand" The man looked in his agenda for an appointment for the preliminary interview, handing them a sticky note with the date the Tony stocked on the back of his phone, knowing that his AI would probably have already registered the appointment. "Can we see him? The kid" The man nodded and showed them to the play area where the kids were playing. "Which one is it?" Steve whispered in Tony's ear. Tony pointed at Peter who was reading a big book on a red bean bag. "You were right, he's cute"

#tony stark #steve rogers #stony fic #stony #stevetony #steve x tony #tonysteve #tony x steve #superhusbands #irondad #irondad and spiderson #ironfam #spiderson #peter parker

[burytherosemarysprigs]

of pyhrric victories and car rides | Bruce Wayne

/ Masterlist /

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Word Count: 8.5k

Summary: A collection of moments from yours and Bruce’s relationship

Warnings: break ins, harassing women, stalking, etc.

“Mr. Wayne, are you with us?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Right then, I do think that the company’s stocks are headed – “

Although he tries not to, Bruce can’t help but lose track of the conversation again, and though he’s not exactly sure who the man he’s talking to is, it’s not particularly what is bothering him at the moment; what’s bothering him is you.

Well, what he thinks is you.

Because not even in his wildest dreams would he imagine that at the Wayne charity gala would he see you conversing with donors in the corner of the ballroom.

Before he has a chance to get a better look at your (supposed) face, a heavy hand is placed on his shoulder and the men he’s been having to entertain conversation with – fall silent as he turns around to see a familiar face.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting something gentlemen, but I was wondering if I could borrow Mr. Wayne, here, for a second?”

There’s a scattered murmur of compliance and the man next to Bruce flashes a bachelor-smile before they both walk away.

“I’m sure you’re aware of why I wanted to talk to you, Bruce.”

Bruce has to refrain from smiling, of course he does, for what other reason would the brother of the woman he’s been trying to seek out this whole evening come to talk to him about, except about you?

“I believe I do, but I would’ve preferred it if you had told me before this evening.”

His response elicits a small chuckle from the man beside him and he grabs two flutes of champagne from a waiter passing by before replying,

“Now what would be that fun in that. And, anyways, she told me not to tell you – or really, anyone about this.”

“About what?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s moving to Gotham.”

He passes the second flute to Bruce, who silently took the glass – still reeling from the words he just heard.

“Why is she – “

“Are you done bothering Bruce?”

Another voice interrupts their conversation, and for the first time tonight, Bruce finally gets to see you. You’re dressed in an ebony gown, with pale gold swirls tracing the expanse of the fabric – light and empyrean around you as the warm white glow casts a rosy look on the room as you stand in front of them – holding your own champagne flute, and of the pink liquid remaining, you swirled around the base of the glass.

“Of course, I’ll leave you to it.”

He casts a knowing smile at you before he leaves but not before you roll your eyes at him. Then, a silence befalls between the two of you – because it’s been 5 years and it feels a little too much like walking on eggshells between each other in this moment.

“Hi.”

You’re surprised that your voice is more breathless than you expected, and Bruce finds a small smile making its way onto his lips – matching yours.

“Hello.”

The conversation fizzles out again and you begin to fiddle with your hands, before Bruce clears his throat that you look up at him again.

“I heard that you’re moving to Gotham now?”

It takes a moment for you to comprehend his question, and then you’re nodding you head in confirmation.

“Oh, yeah, I – “ You pause before continuing. “They’re planning a re-opening of the theatre and Alyse Rosovsky – who’s idea it was – asked me to be part of the cast –”.

Of course, sometimes it slipped his mind, but he remembers your fascination with theatre films, pearls, Broadway lights and your mother’s tattered avant-garde dresses that you would convince her to let you wear. Sometimes, he forgets how much you love the sweeping curtains and backstage vanity tables – the ritualistic ideal of appraisal.

So, it wasn’t necessarily a surprise when you had told him – almost five years ago, that you were going to New York to study theatre and it wasn’t a surprise either when he saw you holding a neoteric award in the newspaper – the black and white picture of you on a podium blossomed a similar emotion to what he was feeling right now.

“– of one of the stage plays they’re planning.”

“Uh – oh.” He feels a little embarrassed for losing track of your explanation and all he can offer is a dazed smile.

“It’s been so long since I saw you, Bruce.”

It’s strange how your voice still sounds the same to him – basking in its honeyed twang and soft inflections that he remembers from years ago, and he’s not entirely sure why both of you never kept in touch after your departure but he pushes that sinking feeling away and shares a nostalgic smile with you.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Mhmm, I was wondering if you – “

“Y/n!”

You’re interrupted by a blonde woman; who’s donning a black slip dress and strands of hair are slowly escaping her intricate chignon and her eyebrows are furrowed as she approaches you both.

“Mr. Wayne,” A small nod of acknowledgement is exchanged between them both before she turns around to face you,

“Vistila is here and he’s dealing with the ‘sharks’ alone, so I came here to ask your help.” She begins to chew on her bottom lip as she explains the situation to you.

“Alyse it’s no problem, I – I’ll be there in a second.”

A relieved expression takes over Alyse’s face as she squeezes your shoulder but before she can leave you stop her.

“Oh – before you go, do you happen to have a pen?”

You eye the leather shoulder bag she’s clutching, and she quickly nods her head before pulling out a blue ballpoint pen and rushing off into the crowd.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

You ask as you place your empty flute glass and uncap the pen and ready it in your hand – raising an eyebrow in his direction as what you’re about to clicks in his head and he shakes his head.

“Good.”

You move closer to him and lift his free arm in your hand, pushing back the smooth fabric of the suit jacket and shirt sleeve underneath it, your cold fingers brushing over his warm skin – causes light goose bumps to raise, but you don’t notice as you list of a series of digits and smile at the phone number you’ve written on his arm before pulling down the fabric – covering the numbers and taking steps away from him.

“Call me sometime?” Your voice is cheeky, a rosy flush on your face as Bruce only takes a sip of his drink before you send a wink to his way and disappear into the crowd as well.

And all Bruce is left with is the scent of your perfume and the lingering touch of your fingers.         

It was nearly 6 pm when the clatter of dinner platter ware and Alfred’s call for them to come to dinner brought both children into that hall between the drawing room and the dining room – waiting for them was both the Butler and a woman toying with the gold pendant around her neck, her lips pulled into a thin line and sharp brows furrowed together in agitation.

“Where have you two been?”

“Mother, look!”

The little girl pipes up first, her pigtails whipping the air as she runs forward with something clutched tightly in her arms – but the dim lighting prevents the woman for seeing what it really is until the little girl reaches her. A little boy following in her steps, his face was also flushed and clothes askew.

“Look, look, look what we made for Bruce’s mom!”

The woman crouches down to see a pearl necklace in the little girl’s hands – and it clicks in her mind, as this was the reason the little girl had snuck away the faux pearls and string on their way to the manor.

“That’s so lovely, she’s going to love them,” Her voice is silky, and an earnest smile plays at her nude lips as she reaches out to smooth out the stray hairs in the girl’s hair, “But we have to go now darling, okay?”

“Okay! But wait one second.” The little girl turns around to pull the little boy along with her as they huddle away from the adults – who share a bemused look. They whisper with each other before the pearl necklace is carefully passed from the little girl to the boy who holds it with a delicate hold before they break apart from their huddle and the little girl happily wears the coat her mother assists her with.

“You can say goodbye now Y/n.”

The girl waves at the boy – who does the same and she exclaims,

“Mother, can Bruce come to our house so I can show him Jellybean?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Okay! Bye Bruce!”

The little girl is swept away in a flurry of coats and scarves and when they’re out of earshot her mother asks her,

“Now what was that for Y/n?”

“We made Bruce’s mom a present and – and Bruce is gonna give it to her when they’re going to go to the theatre!”

A small smile graced her lips and she pressed a light kiss to her daughter’s hair,

“That’s lovely, dear.”

“We were on a date.”

That silences Betty’s rant while de Vos only lets out a low whistle, which prompts a small snort on your side.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You have to try not to sigh because for the past 15 minutes all Betty has been doing is a  rant on last week’s newspaper headline – which is understandable, considering it’s her job.

Ever since you moved here, your parents had insisted in more security measures, their argument being that your 6’3 veteran driver (de Vos), wasn’t enough, leading them to hire Betty – she was barely 5 years older than you but there was purpose gracing her. There was a steely look in her blue eyes – which made them seem greyer than in actuality and she always wore the same gold chain necklace – with a feeble gold coin hanging from the middle.

She had been guarded in the beginning – which had led de Vos to say ‘what’s stuck up your ass’ at her standoffish behaviour at a gala, (to which she gave him a look than caused him to not a single word the rest of the night), but it was after a week when you were at a little café south of the theatre, and you spilled your coffee and (almost) dropped your croissant on the waiter, that she had genuinely laughed. And you had believed that maybe she har started to crumble her resolve a little after that – but it seems less likely now as you watch her frown deepen.

“I – I – “

“Press work was not part of the job description, and maybe a heads-up next time?”

You nod before contemplating your next words, which hang in the air after spoken,

“Well, I guess you should know that I’m meeting him now?”

Before anyone can respond, your phone starts ringing, prompting you to pull it out of your coat pocket, and quickly checking the caller id before answering.

“Hey, Jas.”

“Hi – I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No – I was just going out for dinner.”

“Oh cool, sorry, I just saw the gazette headline and I – “

“Oh.” You start playing with the little buttons on your skirt as you listen to Jasmine and try to pretend that Betty and de Vos aren’t eavesdropping on the conversation.

“- you’re friends with Bruce Wayne?”

Friends? You’re pretty sure Bruce and you are more than just friends.

“I – I guess I am?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I’ve gotten to meet him about 2 weeks ago?” It’s not a complete lie, considering you only met him – properly after years at the gala but it’s not like your complete history with him is something you’ve wanted to share publicly, especially since it means so much to you.

But you haven’t really had the chance to tell all that to Jasmine – considering you’ve known her for about half a year, the topic of Bruce had somehow never come up, which might be ironic, seeing how much time you’ve spent around her – and how close of a friend she was.

“And you didn’t know him before?”

“I – uh, I kinda did” Your response sounds a little pathetic and she only snorts in response. “It’s just that mine and Bruce’s parents had been really close friends so we just kinda spent a lot of time when we were young.”

She hummed in response,

“Are you going to come to my house for tea this weekend?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it if I could.”

“That’s a nice sentiment for my ego.” Her voice is soft as you hear the rustle of paper in the background and you smile – not that she can see.

“Hey, I’ll call you later, okay?” You rush out, eyeing the little café shop coming into view of the windshield, and hang the line after a soft goodbye is exchanged.

As the car slows to a stop, you grab your bag and before opening the car door, you lean forward so you have both de Vos and Betty’s attention.

“Not a word.”

You try not to smile and have to bite your lips and de Vos does the same before you quietly slip out of the car. Towards your date with Bruce.

You eyed the letters again before placing them back into the bag Betty had brought into the dressing room, before an uneasy feeling settled into your stomach.

“Are you ready?”

Betty’s orotund voice rang across the empty room, prompting you to lift your head out of hands to look at her through the vanity mirror you were currently sitting at. The warm lights from the vanity illuminated the deep frown on her face and simple gold chain around her neck glinted off the light.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

You voice came out more strangled than you hoped, followed by a throaty sob which you poorly tried to disguise as a laugh.

“Just calm down,” she paused as if she wasn’t sure if she should continue or not,

“Listen, I’m taking the letters to the station to have them examined and de Vos will take you back to the apartment and then we’ll figure out what to tell everyone and - “

“God, what the fuck am I going to tell them? ‘Hey mom and dad, there’s a fucking stalker who won’t stop sending me creepy letters and might potentially kill me, but I’ll be fine.’”

You wildly moved your hands around to illustrate your point to her, but she only sighs in response.

“They’ll understand, now come on, de Vos is waiting.”

She made her way to the vanity table before picking up the bag and tapping you on the shoulder as a gesture to get up. At which you release a deep sigh before harshly wiping at your watery eyes and smoothing your hair out before deciding to put on the comically large sunglasses that lay on the table as you collected all your things but before making your way, the wilting amaryllises in the  sepia vase caught your eye and a small smile graced your lips, your mind reminiscing but before you can do anything else, Betty calls for you and you hesitantly walk away and grab the coat Betty was holding out for you at the door.

“It’s ten pm.”

She quips after a pointed look at your glasses.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“I love it when you’re this annoying, did you know that? It’s my favourite part of the job.” The glasses disguise the eye roll you send in her way, but she knows you well enough to realize what you’re doing.

A beat passes before you speak up.

“Do you think we can stop by Bruce’s house before going back? I just wanted to talk to him.”

“Is there a reason why you can’t call him?” You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes again.

“You don’t think I’ve tried? All of them straight to voice mail.” Your voice is bitter, and Betty can tell so she relents.

“Okay, I’ll let de Vos know.”

“Thank you.” The words come out softer than you expected, and it elicits a soft (and rare) smile and nod from Betty.

…

“Miss Y/n, what brings you here so late?”

Alfred’s usual monotonous voice is laced with (some) surprise as he opens the doors for you to enter.

“I just needed to talk to Bruce about something, and he wasn’t picking up his phone so I thought I could stop by to talk to him… if he’s here?”

You hope he doesn’t notice the nervousness in your voice, as you clasp and then un-clasp your palms, watching him hang the coat in its place and turn to face you.

“Of course, miss, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

He leads the way to the drawing room and before he leaves you there – he hesitantly pauses to face you, face unmoving but you can feel him think.

“What is it Alfred?”

“It’s just, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but have you been crying miss?”

You don’t know why you’re not reacting to his question, but it takes you a painfully long moment to process his question before you respond,

“Oh – uh, yeah, well not really. I mean, I think the allergies? Well – I – I don’t have any allergies like I – I, that’s what I’ve always told everyone, I mean you know - you know how Autumn is around here, I just – “

“It’s fine Miss, I’ll send Master Bruce for you.”

His voice is monotonous again and the uneasy feeling comes back as he slips out of the room – leaving you to release a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

The next few minutes compromised of you pacing the room anxiously, going through the plan Betty and de Vos had told you and thinking about what you were going to tell Bruce. And in your perpetual state of worry, you miss the familiar sound of dress shoes clicking against the hardwood floor and a figure approaching you, until you feel a presence behind you and a hand reaching to grab your arm, that you let out a small cry of shock.

“Are you – “

“Oh my god, Bruce!”

It takes a second for the cuts and bruises littering his face to process in your mind, and as you reach out to take a hold of his cheek, he pulls back,

“Bruce – “

“Why’re you here?”

Your staring at him like a gaping fish – your worries about everything that happened this evening disappear as you frown at his unkempt state.

“I – I – What happened to you?”

You try and reach out again for him, but he grabs hold of your arms so that you can’t move to touch him, and you find yourself looking at the bags under his eyes, the shadows around his nose and your hearts aches – because he looks so tired.

“Bruce, I’m serious, what – “

“Why’re you here – “

You both speak at the same time, drowning each other out and you try to start again – but Bruce beats you to it,

“Y/n, what are you doing here?”

“I – Bruce, what the fuck happened to you?”

Your staring at his face – and his jaw only clenches in response and you search for any other response in his eyes – but they feel too steely under the dim glow of the light.

“Nothing, just an accident.”

“Bullshit.” You don’t know why you’re being so defensive and pressing the matter even though the rational part of your brain is telling you to stop, you don’t.

“Y/n, it’s nothing.”

“Well, I know it’s nothing, Bruce.”

That’s not wrong because you do truly know it’s not nothing; and the rational part of your part is now screaming at you to stop – and your thudding heartbeat is deafening in the silence of the room. Bruce only looks at you in response and somehow his lack of response edges you to continue on.

“Just tell me, I – I care about you.”

“Well, I never said that you needed to.”

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re only running on four cups of coffee, a granola bar and it’s almost the middle of the night and today you found out that there’s an obsessive, psychopathic stalker after you that you feel something snap.

You take a step back – lips drawn into a thin line and eyes trailing the tiles on the floor and make your way out of the room with all your things tightly clutched between your hands – you try to blink away the tears blurring your eyes but when that doesn’t work you quicken your pace – your boots clicking against the floor wood and keys frantically jiggling in your hands.

“Hey – “

You hear Betty’s voice as you exit the front doors, but you make a beeline for the car – dismissing her presence and prompting her to follow you,

“What happened?”

You don’t respond and she trails helplessly after you, face contorted into confusion and concern – which she mirrors with de Vos as you both near the car, you slamming the backdoor closed, leaving her to stand next to de Vos’ window, both of them quiet and sharing silent looks.

The ride starts of in an uncomfortable silence – no words exchanged and the only sound that was heard was the ignition starting and the occasional sound of you sniffling in the back.

De Vos can’t see much of your face through the rear-view mirror due to the darkness and shadows falling across your face every time a streetlamp passes by – but when he catches your eyes in the mirror as you harshly rub at the tear-stained cheeks, he has to say something,

“Kid – “

“Please don’t,” your voice is small, and the words come out more softly than intended and Betty only shares a pleading look to de Vos to continue.

“We’re just worried about you,” He sounds a little apprehensive, his usually gruff voice more clear and mellow now, “You can tell us anything, ya know, we’re here to protect you.”

When there’s still no response from you, Betty clears her throat and begins speaking,

“Look, I knew he wouldn’t be happy about this situation, but you should – “

“I didn’t tell him,” Your voice is strangled and abrupt, throwing Betty of track and she looks back at you,

“W-what – “

“I didn’t tell him anything about the letters.”

“Then why – “

“I don’t fucking know, okay? I don’t fucking know why he’s suddenly acting like he hates me and telling me that he doesn’t want me to be with him, okay?”

The last word is spoken more softly and comes out much less harsh and the car plunges into silence again – but you still feel like you can’t breathe, the words dawning a painful realization over you.

“Actually, can we go to Jasmine’s tonight?”

The words slip out before you can think them over and Betty nods her head after a moment and the rest of the car ride is full of an awkward silence that no one tries to fight against.

…

“Y/n?”

Jasmine opens her door after a fourth ring, her dark curls untamed and bouncing everywhere, and her eyes full of sleep.

“Hey,”

“What’re doing here? Do you know what time it is? Wait – why are you crying?”

She sobers up almost instantly, after glancing at your red, puffy face and your arms wrapped around your body tightly – behind you Betty moves forward to say something but you pipe up,

“Can I stay over tonight?” Your voice is feeble, and you can’t help but berate yourself for sounding so pathetic.

“O – of course, yeah, come in,” She moves, allowing the dim hallways lights to illuminate the figures on her front porch.

She moves to wrap an arm across your shoulders, pulling you closer to her so that the scent of her familiar agarwood perfume fills your senses.

“There’s something I need to tell you Jasmine.”

“Thank you, Betty!”

You exclaim, voice giddy and slightly slurred as you embrace her from the back of her seat, and fail miserably, which results in you erupting into giggles in the backseat of the car – as Jasmine tries to placate you

“Right. Just hurry up.”

She sighs as you and Jasmine make your way out of the car. Both of you walking in relative silence minus the occasionally stumbles and giggles from you as you walk towards the building, and it’s Anael who greets you at the darkly lit front desk, after hazily waving him ‘hi’, the elevator ride passes by as you ramble about Anael to Jasmine as she listens with a bemused look on her face.

“Crap, where are my keys,” You rummage through your bag noisily till the jingling keys are in your grasp and you drunkenly try to unlock the front door – that is until Jas coerces the key out of your hand and opens it herself and then you’re greeted with your apartment.

“Finally!” You exclaim, spinning around until you collapse on the beige couch in the middle of the room, your bag hitting the coffee table in the centre and you take in the room, something seems a little of place but your drunk mind can’t comprehend anything else so you watch as Jas places her bag on the marble counter top all the way across the room, in the dimly lit kitchen and she disappears into the hallway as you hear her say,

“I’m just gonna pee really quickly, and then we’ll look for your bag, okay?”

You hum in response and close your eyes as the silence settles around you and the only noise are the distant cars and faint sirens.

That is until your hear a thud and heavy footsteps approaching.

“Jas? Didn’t know you could pee so quickly?”

There’s no response.

You promptly push yourself up from the couch and the person you see walking towards you isn’t Jasmine and you feel yourself freeze in your place.

The man standing in front is wearing a dark jacket and in his hands there’s an envelope you can barely make out properly and the world momentarily stops as you lock with him. They’re steely and grey and your heart rate picks up.

Your mind fails to form a coherent word and all you can do is gape as he makes his way near you.

“God, I’ve been waiting to meet you for so long,” His voice is rough and the small chuckle he lets out rumbles through the air – and you can feel the goose bumps on your skin rise as he towers over your place on the couch. “You know you’re not an easy person to find.”

“How did you get in here?”

The words tumble out of your mouth but it’s hard to process anything when your heartbeat is deafening in your ears.

He chuckles before replying, “You don’t need to know princess, but people here are a lot more gullible than I thought,” he pauses before adding in, “Told ‘em, I was here for some flower arrangements and it wasn’t a lie, look,”

He draws your gaze to the little cream envelope in his hands and takes your hand – but your body doesn’t react fast enough as he grips your wrist tight – it doesn’t feel so tight but you can see his knuckles turning white as he holds your wrist and the warmth from his fingers on your cold skin makes you numb but all you do is watch as he places the withered orange lily from the envelope in the hand he held,

“Sorry ‘s a little withered, but I’ve been waiting for a while and didn’t have the time to get a new one for you, hope ‘s okay?”

You don’t respond and he notices it.

He reaches out to graze his free hand underneath your chin and you reflexively flinch under his touch so he grabs your jaw – roughly pulling your face to face him and you want to scream, yell, shout; do anything but your voice dissolves into nothing every time you try.

“I said, is it fine?” It takes a moment – but you nod your head ever so lightly and it suffices for him, so he loosens his hold on your jaw – only a little for you breathe properly again.

“Are you always this stubborn, Y/n?” The way his mouth forms your name makes you sick, it makes you upset because he shouldn’t be able to say it like that – with a wide smile on his face, twisting the vowels on his tongue in whichever way he pleases as you squirm under his grasp.

“Even with him?” His eyes darken and so does his grip on you, “Don’t worry, I got all his things out of your room, I’ll get rid of them.”

“No.” You voice is barely above a whisper as you shake your head, “Please let me go.”

“I’ve waited so long to be here with you, I’m not leaving now Y/n.” His grip is suffocating, and he doesn’t relent as you try to squirm out of his hold, but he only chuckles.

“You can call me by my name, you know?” You don’t say anything. “Do you not remember it? I wrote my initials on the letters, I hoped you would figure it out.”

The memory of the letters makes you sick again as he reaches out to tuck the stray hairs behind your ear and you recoil from his touch, so he tries to placate you by continuing to talk.

“I sent them because I wanted to tell you how much I – “, His words are cut short off by the distant sound of thundering footsteps and you hear him swear underneath his breath, before letting go of his hold on you.

“Well, I guess I gotta introduce myself to all you friends now, huh?”

Before anything else can be said, the front door is burst open as quickly as the man in front of you pulls you up and into his chest – you back against his chest and his steely grip locked onto your arms but this time, you feel a cold blade on the base of your neck – freezing you in place.

“Stop!”

A blur of dark uniforms surrounds but you can’t see much as your mind blurs – from the alcohol you’ve consumed or the nausea building up in you, you’re not entirely sure. You can’t hear much because of the pounding in your chest and before you can comprehend the scene around you, the arms holding you in a suffocating grip – disappear. A gasp escapes from your lips as your knees give out and you fall to the floor, your mind blanking.

“Y/n, can you hear me?”

A muffled voice registers in your head as you slowly blink your eyes open. The warm white lights feel more harsh than usual and there’s an ache in your left eye.

“I – “

“Is she awake? Are you awake Y/n?”

Betty’s voice is full of panic and maybe you would’ve cracked a joke about it if you didn’t feel a growing sting on your head as you slowly regained consciousness.  

“I – “

“I’ll let de Vos know, and – and, where’s Gordon,”

Betty leaves your side before you can say anything and another person – which you assume is a medic, through your hazy eyes, you can barely make out his face, let alone what he’s trying to tell you.

“I’m fine – “

“No, no you’re not, Y/n.” Betty has reappeared, this time, her glabellar lines are more deep-set and her voice firmer. She’s about to say something else, but the medic stops her this time, and diverts your gaze to his face.

“You’ve been concussed, and I just want to ask you a few questions. First, can you tell me your name?”

“It’s Y/n.” The light from the lamp next to the loveseat your splayed on is bright as you squint at the man in front of you.

“Great, now, do you know where you are and what day it is?”

“I – I’m in my house, and…” You looked out towards the French windows and door, the bleak night visible through the white, lace curtains. “It’s Saturday night, the – uh, 17th of October.”

“Okay, can you tell me the address?”

“Uh – it’s 356 Victoria street.”

He nods, and the asks,

“Now, do you know what happened?”

You really wished that you could say no to his question, but it’s all vividly clear in your mind. His face. His eyes. His hands. Him.

“Yeah.” You voice is croaky, and you shift your gaze to your hands in your lap.

“Okay, that’s great,” He turns around to face Betty, “She’s A&O4, just make sure she’s not moving and get her some water for the headache she’s probably going through right now.”

Betty nods her head before making her way towards the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and the medic besides you leaves, and you finally lift your head up to see the amount of people currently in your apartment. There’s police offers standing at the front door, some of them standing around the windows and others scattered around the living room and kitchen.

Your eyes drift around the scene and am uneasy feeling settles in your stomach as you take in your appearance in the windows. Your hair is a mess, and the spaghetti straps of your black dress and falling of your shoulders, but it’s your face – a bruise blooming near your left eye, that causes you to release a shaky breath, the shades of purple and blue are nauseous and you bring your hand up to light graze the wound, but it stings at the slightest touch from your shaking fingers.

“Y/n.”

Betty comes back but just as she holds out the glass of water, something clicks in your mind.

“Betty. Where’s Jasmine?”

You swing your legs of the loveseat and attempt to stand up, but she stops you.

“Y/n, stop, stop, listen. She’s okay.” She places the cold glass between your hands before continuing.

“Uh – he just locked her in the bathroom.”

“Well, why didn’t I hear her?”

“He also knocked her unconscious.”

“What? Where is she?”

“She’s in the bedroom, don’t worry, she’s just resting there, the medic checked up on her, she’s perfectly fine – just a bit shaken up like you.”

The conversation fizzles out as you stare at the ice cubes slowly melting into the water – the cold from the glass numbing your fingers but you can’t bring yourself to worry about it.

“I’m so sorry, Betty” You whisper, hoping she doesn’t hear you – but she does, and you try your hardest to blink away the tears forming in the corner of your eye.

“Y/n. please don’t say that.” She crouches down. “You never could’ve thought of this happening.”

“I know, I know but still – “

“Listen, it’s okay, we got him.”

That piques your interest as you raise your head to meet her hazel eyes.

“He tried to make a run for it from the open windows, but we got him.”

“How did you know – “, your voice is unsure and thick.

“I tried calling Jasmine, but she didn’t pick up, so I went to talk to Anael at the desk and he mentioned something about flower arrangements and a man, and it clicked in my head.”

Before you can ask her anything else, your moment in interrupted by a clearing of a throat and both you and Betty turn around to see Gordon standing in the middle of the room.

“Y/n, I just wanted to ask questions – “

“I’m sorry Gordon, but we’ll have to do that tomorrow, if that’s alright?”

Betty cuts him off and Gordon only nods and smiles sympathetically at both of you before moving to converse with the other detectives. You clear your throat before asking,

“Uh – Betty, can I please go outside?”

“Y/n, you know what he – “

“Please.”

Betty mulls it over as you look at her with pleading eyes and she nods before extending a hand for you to help stand up. It takes a moment but as soon as you’re on your feet, you feel your legs wobble and you regret wearing heels tonight but you wrap your arms around your body and Betty guides you out of the front door, and the emptiness of the beige hallway and the starchy air causes you to properly breathe as you move towards a corner not swarmed with people – the window that faces the streets is the same. The distant sirens and cars sound the same, but it all feels so different.

Emerging footsteps rounding the corner of the hallway pull you out of your train of thoughts and you turn around to see -

“Bruce?” Your voice is feeble and his head snaps towards you – standing at the end of the hallway, dishevelled and you feel small under his gaze as he walks towards you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You should be surprised that that’s the first thing he says to you but you’re too focused on him that you don’t process the question. Somehow, the bags under his eyes are more prominent than Wednesday, he looks gaunter and his hair is almost as dishevelled as yours but the cuts and bruises on his face have faded now.

“Y/n.”

“Bruce I – “

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Bruce, I fucking tried, okay.” Your voice is snappy, and you’re surprised you have the energy for this.

“Remember the night I came to your house, and you fucking said you didn’t want me there? I came to tell you that I’ve been receiving letters from an unknown stalker and that I was fucking scared! But, no! I – “

You feel tears pool in your eyes, and you have to stop yourself from breaking down again. You cast your eyes down to the linoleum floors and there’s no response from Bruce or there isn’t a response until a voice calls out your name and you turn to see Jasmine standing at the entrance of the apartment.

“Jasmine!”

A wave of relief rolls over you as you quickly make your way past Bruce, towards Jasmine, whom you engulf in an embrace as soon as you reach her and let the familiar scent of warm agarwood overtake your senses.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Jas.”

She’s taken aback at first but then pulls apart to reassure you,

“Y/n, please don’t say that. It’s okay, I’m okay, you’re okay.” She draws circles on your shoulder blades as she whispers, “We’re both here.”

You want to keep on apologizing, thanking and basking her presence but it’s cut short by de Vos rounding near the hallway and exclaiming your name – his Jersey accent boisterous.

“God damn it, kid, thought I was gonna have to punch some fucker’s face today.” In complete de Vos fashion, the man is still wearing his coat and gloves and his hair is gelled back and his enormous figure fills the door frame he’s leaning against and you follow the curve of his hooked nose and watch the deep-set lines of his forehead crease before wrapping your arms around him.

“It’s always good to keep you on your toes, de Vos.” Your voice is croaky still and you don’t know how you managed to crake a joke all of a sudden but the weight in your chest feels a little lighter now that you’re not stuck in the apartment anymore and surrounded by fewer police officers.

“Okay, if you’re ready to go now then we can head out – I’ve asked Gordon to arrange for a safe house for you to stay in for the night as we work out the safety details – “

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Bruce’s low voice causes the little circle (you, Jasmine, Betty and de Vos) have formed – to turn around and see his figure approaching yours.

“Bruce – “

“Oraine, I’m sure you’re aware of how safe Wayne Manor is, Y/n can stay there for the night.”

The conversation falls quiet as Betty silently assesses the proposition before nodding and you find yourself interjecting,

“Betty – “

“No, Y/n, he’s right,” She cuts you off and steps closer. “This time, please trust me.”

You can’t argue with her now – not while you feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you, so you just nod and train your eyes back to the floor.

The rest of the trip down to the car is silent – besides from the uncomfortable weight that nobody addresses until you’re outside the building and the crisp air causes you to release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and the October breeze causes you to wrap your arms around your torso tighter split into cars.

“Right, me and de Vos we’ll go in that car, you and Bruce in his and Jasmine – “

“I’ll come with you guys, Betty.”

Before you can protest Jasmine leaving you alone with Bruce, they’ve all made their way to the car near the curb and you’re left with no option but to begrudgingly follow Bruce into his car – which had been haphazardly parked, almost climbing onto the sidewalk.

Neither of you say a word as you climb into the passenger seat and he buckles into the driver’s seat and you both drive in complete silence – except for your anxiety ridden heartbeat thudding in your chest. You watch the streetlamps pass by the dark shadows, the apricot orange light falls solemnly on the gravel roads and it invokes a sense of déjà vu in you, to last Wednesday and a humourless laugh almost escapes your lips but you manage to keep the silence – and it’s still stifling.

By the time, you reach the Manor, it’s almost 2:30 am on the digital clock in the car and Bruce stops the car and neither one of you makes a move to get out. Instead, Bruce puts his hand into his breast pocket and pulls out an envelope. It’s the same cream colour as the ones you received in the dressing room and the one, he gave to you tonight.

“Bruce?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you hesitantly take the envelope – your fingers shaking as you open envelope – the seal was already broken and your fingertips against the hoarse paper is the only sound you can hear – and you watch the moonlight frame shadows on Bruce’s face as he looks at you.

“What is this.”

A beat passes before he speaks.

“That night, uh, before you came to my house, Alfred gave me this letter that he found, and I read it and it said – “

“That ‘this is a warning to stay away from her’”, you completed his sentence, reading off the letter. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You know I’ve been asking you the same thing for the past couple of days.” His voice is oddly strained, and you pretend you didn’t hear what he said.

“You shouldn’t have told me to leave that night,” You don’t look at him when you say this, head looking out towards the window and the peak of sunlight edging off the horizon and you wait for him to say something.

“I know.” There’s a slight tone of bitterness in his voice but you don’t dwell it for long because his hands come out to guide your face towards his – his cold fingers resting gently under your chin, and a chill goes down your spine as you match his gaze.

“I’m sorry.” You don’t say anything, but you don’t make a move away from him either. “You know that I never want anything terrible happening to you and I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

A beat passes.

“I didn’t mean anything I said that day and I just didn’t know what to tell you.”

“Just like you don’t know how to tell me you’re Batman?”

You bite your lips in anticipation as Bruce’s eyes grow wide – his hold on your face disappearing and it takes him a second to process your confession.

“Y – You know?”

“Well, at least you’re not denying it.” You try to lighten the mood, but his face is still shocked. “Remember when I came over to your house for my 17th birthday? I heard you and Alfred talking about how you should be more careful on patrols.”

He doesn’t say anything, so you take your hand in yours and draw small circles on it before continuing.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to do anything stupid.”

“Stupid?”

“Like stop talking to me or I don’t know, erase my memory?”

“I can’t do that, you know.”

“Yeah, well I was scared and that’s why I kinda stopped talking to you after that visit.”

You intertwine his pinkie finger with yours and lift your joint hands above the console and he looks at you with a confused look.

“No more secrets after this,” You squeeze your hand. “Promise?”

He moves to press a light kiss against your temple before whispering

“Promise.”

Currently facing the large manor windows out-looking the gardens and entrance, you watch rain pour down copiously – making the view almost incomprehensible and a small frown makes it way on your face as you fidget around with the gold locket around your neck.

“Are you alright, miss?”

Alfred’s monotonous voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you look at him in confusion before he speaks up again.

“Master Bruce is in the study,” He studies you for a moment. “I though you would like to know.”

“Oh – yes, thank you.”

With a small nod in your direction, he turns around and you wait for the footsteps to fade away before you start to move away – on your way, you stop by the gold accented hanging mirror and adjust invisible creases in your dress – which was a soft pink, and off-the shoulder, before padding through the silent halls.

“Alfred says that you ‘seem sad’?”

Bruce doesn’t even lift his head when he questions you as you enter the study and watch the unnerving amount of bookshelves and sharp woodwork surround his hunched body over piles of papers in the corner of the room and you only roll your eyes as you make your way to the large, velvet armchair he was sitting at.

“Does he now?” You mutter under your breath – slightly embarrassed at the prospect of Alfred telling Bruce about your sadness over something so trivial.

“Well, are you sad?”

“I don’t know Bruce, am I?”

He doesn’t say anything but raises his eyebrow in response – at which you motion for him to move so you can make yourself comfortable in his lap – confined by the oak table in front of you and his arms wrap themselves around you as you burrow your head in his neck, enveloping yourself in the scent of his sandalwood cologne and body warmth.

“What happened?”

You incoherently mumble into his neck, which prompts him to nudge you and you slowly lift your head out and look at him with slightly red eyes and a pouty face.

“Love – “

“I really wanted to go out to the lakes today.” You hope he doesn’t hear you, but he does, and you can see his eyes light up in humour and he barely contains a smile as you shake your head.

“I had it all planned!” You start to move your hands as well now, making exuberant gestures to accentuate your point. “I was gonna bring these picnic blankets, and this wicker basket and I wore this dress and – and I made mini cherry pies and this fucking stupid rain just ruined your surprise.”

You finish off your rant by burrowing your head again and leaving Bruce with a small smile on his lips as he tries to get you to life your head, but you just shake your head and a small chuckle escapes Bruce’s lips and you let out a small whine.

“It’s not funny!”

“Certainly not.”

You raise your head to stare at him unamused as you watch him follow your movements before he asks,

“Are you going to be upset this whole evening?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, what would cheer you up?” His voice is bemused as you contemplate his words in your mind before scanning the expanse of the room before something clicks in your mind.

“Can you play me the piano?”, your voice is soft and barely above a whisper, and Bruce comprehends your request, playing the piano? It seems simple enough and Bruce is a little confused.

“Y/n, I don’t really – “

“Please,” You move your hands to play with the buttons on his shirt. “Remember, when we were kids, and we had those piano lessons and I was so fucking bad. Like really bad,”

Bruce smiles a little as you laugh at the memory.

“And Mr. Lebedev was a terrible teacher and I hated him, and you used to try and teach me, but I was so bad.”

“So?”

You don’t stop the eye roll before responding.

“So, can you play the piano for me because I can’t – and I’ll feel less bad if you do.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, before nodding his head and trying to stand up to leave but you stop him, motioning him to pick you up.

“If you can bench-press a thousand pounds, then honey, you can lift me up.”

There’s a satisfied smile on your lips as you picks you up with a roll of the eyes before walking across the room, towards the grand piano set in the room, facing the large windows.

“What do you want me to play?” He asks as you both sit on the leather bench,

“Anything you want.” You shrug in response as he concentrates on the piano, deep in thought before moving his fingers – shakily – over the keys, and a delicate sound fills the air as his fingers glide expertly over the piano and you hold in your breath without realising as he plays his mother’s song.

You can remember it quite clearly because every time, she would ask Bruce to play a piece, she would always ask for this one.

You don’t want to say anything to disrupt his concentration, so you only closed you eyes and moving to softly rest you head on his shoulder, the intricate melody tangent to the patter of rain against the window and it feels a little ephemeral, and you feel yourself melt a little sitting there – wrapped up in the quite atmosphere.

le fin

how was it? part 2?

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagines #dc #batman #batman x reader #batman imagines #dc fanfic #alfred pennyworth #gotham #fanfic #robert pattinson

[stellawella97]

Atelephobia: The Fear of Never Being Good Enough (Shane/Gender Neutral Farmer) - Chapter 1/3

Just posted 1/3 of my first Stardew Valley fanfic!

Read it below or over @ AO3

Summary:

Shane has got 99 problems but never did he think the entire world losing its colour would be one of them.

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It started off as just any other normal day in Shane’s life.

The chickens clucked noisily outside, the cows joining in their song occasionally with their loud chorus of moo’s. None of these sounds woke Shane up in the slightest - he heard them every day and he’d grown so accustomed to the noise, he figured he’d still be able to continue sleeping even if his bedroom floor caved in beneath his bed.

The slightly battered alarm clock sitting on Shane’s bedside table began its shrill ringing at 6:30am sharp. Shane tended to run by a strict ‘5 more minutes’ rule when it came to waking up in the morning however. Refusing to open his eyes till he absolutely had to, Shane managed to turn off the alarm clock by swatting aimlessly with his hand till it met with cold metal and the ringing stopped.

He tried to fall back asleep for those precious extra 5 minutes of peace before he had to leave for his soul-sucking job at JojaMart. However, memories of the night before began to flood back into his mind. Shane had been up in the mountains late at night, drinking again. He faintly remembered seeing the hermit (Linus, was it?) entering his tent, a plastic bag that was stuffed to the brim with what looked like half-eaten food grasped tightly in his hands.

Shane had drunk a couple cans of beer before he decided to enter the mines nearby. It had been dark and full of strange noises neither human nor animal could make but Shane had managed to make it down several floors with a pickaxe he’d found at the mine entrance in his drunken state. As to why he’d chosen to do this, Shane had no idea whatsoever.

He didn’t remember much else except for the sound of a creature speaking in a garbled ancient language, a warm tingling sensation that filled his entire body, and finally the sharp pain that shot through his head as he finally keeled over from the amount of alcohol in his system, smashing his head against the rocky terrain. Oddly enough, his head didn’t hurt at all this morning. Doctor Harvey must’ve patched him up real good this time. Or maybe Marnie had. Who’d even brought him back to the house?

Just as he was beginning to wonder if he was actually found with trousers on this time, Shane heard the sound of the front door slamming shut. Marnie must have gone out to feed the animals. Shane was just about to roll over onto his side to continue his reminiscing when it began to dawn on him that he’d probably been in bed for more than just 5 minutes.

Shane quickly sat up in bed and grabbed the alarm clock. It was now 7:10am! He couldn’t risk Morris docking his pay again this month - he had to get to JojaMart quick. He jumped out of bed and had just put his leg through a pair of jeans when he noticed that it’d turned from blue to gray. When had that happened? He remembered wearing this exact pair of jeans just two days ago and he certainly hadn’t ever bought gray ones before.

It was then that he realized - everything had turned gray from his walls, to the cushion placed in front of the television set, to the alarm clock, and even his own skin.

I’ve finally done it, haven’t I? I died in those fucking mines last night and now, I’m in some kind of Hell?

The thought ran through Shane’s mind as he spun around, inspecting everything in his room for any sign of colour. This was to no avail. Even his favourite pair of boxers was gray with slightly darker gray hearts dotting it. In a moment of pure desperation, Shane decided to pinch himself as hard as he could on his arm in an attempt to find out if he was in fact still alive. He was.

Rubbing the sore patch of skin on his arm, Shane decided that he didn’t have time to waste standing here and waiting to see if the world around him would get its colour back. If he was still alive, he needed to get to work pronto. He quickly pulled on his ratty, old JojaMart jacket that still did its job and ran out of the house, only just remembering to shut his bedroom door behind him because he just didn’t think he could deal with Marnie yelling at him again about the mess of empty beer cans and pizza boxes in there.

Shane ran through town, almost knocking over Abigail who had just left Pierre’s General Store with a flute in her hands. It worried him to no end that even her usually bright purple of her hair (She must dye it, right?) was now a dull gray, but Shane had no time to be stressing about that now. He’d just have to wait till during his break or after work.

Once he’d arrived at JojaMart, Shane immediately went to the employees office to clock in and change into the uniform. He took a moment to glance at his reflection in the mirror and sighed as he noted that the usually bright blue uniform was just as unflattering as always in a gray shade. He walked out onto the shop floor and began stocking the shelves, determined to just get through the day now.

However, he must’ve done something to offend Yoba because Shane’s shift did not go well at all. He’d first managed to trip over his own feet and crashed straight into the display of limited edition shrimp-flavoured Joja Cola that he’d been hard at work stacking up for over an hour. As Shane was stomping angrily back onto the shop floor with a bucket of soapy water and a mop in his hands, he’d then bumped into Pam who’d screamed in rage when she discovered her brand-new jumpsuit was now soaked. Even though he’d apologized profusely to Pam, Shane still had to sit through an hour and a half of Morris’s lectures as well as had his paycheck docked for the day to reimburse Pam for the damages.

Just as he thought his day couldn’t get any worse however, Shane was just about to clock out for his lunch break when Morris asked him to help Sam unload the delivery trucks that had just arrived with a new shipment of powdered butter, gluten pucks and Carbo Cones. This meant he had to endure almost an hour’s worth of listening to Sam go on and on about how awesome some indie band in Grampleton was - which on some days, was fine. Just not today, for Yoba’s sake. Instead of putting up a fuss however (Morris wouldn’t care anyway), Shane simply gritted his teeth and headed out to the back of JojaMart.

It wasn’t till 2pm that Shane finally managed to clock out for his break. He flopped down onto a seat at a small round metal table in the employee’s break room and stared at the silently humming vending machine in the corner of the room. The vending machine sold only JojaMart products, all of them disgusting and overly sweet - Shane had tried each one. At first, he wondered to himself ‘Wasn’t that vending machine blue before?” before it dawned on him for the second time that day that he hadn’t been able to see colours all day. As crazy as it sounded, he’d just been so distracted with work that he hadn’t had time to notice.

Shane leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, biting his lower lip in concentration. How had this happened? Had something happened to him in the mines? Maybe he should pay Doctor Harvey a visit after work, he would know what to do.

“Knock knock!,” a familiar voice suddenly came from the direction of the door. Shane, who had been staring blankly at a spot on the table, looked up to see who had managed to sneak into the break room in surprise but flinched almost immediately, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes from the sudden burst of colour amongst the gray. Once his eyes had adjusted, Shane saw that the voice belonged to the new farmer that had recently moved into the farm out of the town. They were now standing by the door, their hands clasped behind their back.

He must’ve been staring at the farmer for just a moment too long because they’d then asked “Shane? Are you okay? with an eyebrow raised questioningly. Shane cleared his throat and stood up from his chair, moving to stand in front of the vending machine. It was hard to tell what he was looking at when all the cans were the same gray colour, but he pretended to be deciding which drink he was going to buy to buy himself some time. His heart was beating so fast in his chest, Shane began to wonder if he was about to pass out.

Why’s the farmer the only one who’s in colour? Why of all people has it got to be them?!

Just as he thought of something smart to say, Shane heard the sound of the break room door opening again. He spun around to find the farmer already halfway out the door. However, the farmer noticed at the last moment that Shane had finally turned around and was now looking at them. They hesitated for a moment before saying with a shy smile tracing their lips “I’ve gotta go now but...I’ll be stopping by the Stardrop Saloon tomorrow night, I hope I’ll see you there there?”

“I-I’ll see you there!,” Shane blurted out, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up. The farmer flashed him a warm smile before shutting the door behind them. Shane fell back into his seat and buried his face in his hands, mentally screaming at himself for two main reasons. One, he had sounded way too excited at the prospect of seeing the farmer again. Two, had the farmer just subtly invited him on a date? And did he just...agree to it? What was going on today?!

Not once did he stop to wonder why the farmer hadn’t turned gray like everything else, himself included.

Shane managed to breeze through the second half of his shift at JojaMart without any further mishaps, and had made it all the way back home with his head high up in the clouds. He popped a frozen pizza he’d stolen from JojaMart’s freezers into the oven and entered his bedroom, kicking his shoes off at the door.

He was just wondering if people still brought their date flowers in these modern days when he noticed a small slip of paper that was being held in place beneath a small stone that was smooth to the touch. Written on the paper in a barely legible script were the words ‘Lost your ability to see colour, huh? If you want it back, meet me at the mines tonight at 11pm’.

Shane looked around his room and decided to check the windows. They were locked. Whoever had delivered this note must’ve come in from the front door but Marnie who had been home all day would have said something to him if someone had come looking for him. She hadn’t though, so they must have snuck in without her seeing. Now he knew how they got in, there was still one question left unanswered:

Who sent me this note?

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Author Notes:

Part 2 will be up sometime later this week so stay tuned for that.

If you'd like my work and would like to support me, please consider donating to my Ko-fi @ https://ko-fi.com/stellawella97 where I am offering custom fanfic commissions for a cup of coffee! It'd really help me out. Thank you <3

#stardew valley #stardew shane #stardew farmer #stardew fanfic #gender neutral fanfic #sdv #sdv shane #sdv farmer #fanfiction #fanfic

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (44)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

When you work the next day... it’s better to avoid spending an entire evening having fun. I'm not saying you don't have the right! but only... avoid returning home at 2am. You were already sleeping in the van, Danny had to hold on until he reached his bed. And it only took him 5 seconds to fall asleep. He wasn't drunk, just exhausted. And the awakening... was not the most pleasant. Between the rays of the sun that came to heat his skull and the phone that vibrated, his heart swayed as best he could towards the most bearable.

Surprisingly, he wasn't late. But it wasn't going to take long if he didn't rush a little. He still sent a message to Melina so that she could warn the boss. He got up, took a shower, and then took medication to calm the onset of a headache that hit him. Then he went to the kitchen where he found a note from you next to a plate where breakfast was resting. Danny smiled as he took the piece of paper in his hand.

“To help you get back on your feet for the day. Thank you again for last night I had a lot of fun. See you tonight. I love you. (Y/n)”

“Wow... it's an adorable message. That's the base, but coming from her it makes it even cuter.” said a main voice which Danny knows very well. He raised his head to see Jed, his alter ego, leaning against the kitchen worktop. “It's even amazing that she reacts like this by knowing who you are.”

“Better that it happens like this between the two of us rather than reluctantly sticking my knife in her throat, don't you think?” Danny responds, sipping his coffee.  

“I hope you had a great time last night. And that you thought about finding an excuse for Hembrook in case we were potentially late. Because don't count on me to blow you one.”

“I warned Melina and don't worry, I have a valid excuse. And in a way, since you're in my head, you had fun too.”

“It's true.” replied Jed putting his glasses back on his nose.  

As he took another sip of coffee, Danny suddenly heard whispers... whispers that he has already heard. that very night. And obviously, Jed hears them too. Actually... he has been hearing these whispers for a little while. Since McKellan's murder to be more precise. And it never stopped, quite the contrary.

“I've heard these noises before... that night in my dreams.” said Danny looking at Jed.  

“You quickly forget that I’m part of your mind. What you hear, live or dream, I feel it too. But I confess that compared to you it’s less.... precise. Blurrier. So let the mental psychologist that I am... help you analyse what you saw. Tell me about this dream.” responds Jed.  

“Tsk. Fine. I was... in a kind of... mist. I could barely see the trees around me. I walked, for a long time, but the more I walked the more I felt like I was standing still. Suddenly I hear screams. (Y/N’)’s screams. And when I turn back to her screams, I see like... giant spider legs grab me and take me into the mist. Then nothing.”

“Mist... giant spider legs... If I remember correctly, you don't have arachnophobia? Because I don't see how she can appear and see in a mist. Less how she could catch you.”

“Thank you very much it helps me a lot nerd. Don't you have something more interesting to say? You're supposed to be as smart as I am.” Replied Danny annoyed.

“Well in this case... I would say that you may have attracted a mystical entity to you. And that she is looking for different way to reach you. And Only God knows what she wants from you.” responds Jed.  

“Don't tell me you believe in all this mystical stuff. it's just bullshit to attract people and take their money.”

“I remind you, Danny, that I’m the opposite of you. What you don't believe, I believe. We don’t know if hell and paradise exist, if there is an infinity of dimensions... or if our world... isn’t connected to another. Mystical things are not to be taken lightly. Be careful. Your dream may be a sign, a proof.”

Danny sighed before doing the dishes, taking his belongings and leaving the apartment, while Jed shrugged his shoulders shaking his head and sighing before disappearing. It has always been very difficult for these two opposites to get along, and when that happens, it’s to be noted with a white cross. Danny got into his van and set off for the newspaper. Despite the way he got up a little late, he arrived at work with only 2 minutes late. Without depressing the accelerator, just driving normally. Either there was no one on the road, or he wasn't that late.

He climbed the steps, arrived at the offices, greeted his colleagues, and settled down to begin writing his article. As soon as he starts writing, Danny is unstoppable. A bomb could explode, he would not move an inch. After 2 hours, he stopped, stretched his arms and back, and then got up for coffee. And a part of Neptune's pie that you had delivered with other pastries.

While he was in the break room, drinking a sip of coffee, Danny heard whispers again, the same as those in the apartment. He turned his head to the door at the back of the room, leading to the stock of coffee and other food. What surprised Danny wasn’t the whispers, but a kind of black mist that looked like it was escaping from the door. There are no electrical appliances in this room, nor are there any flammable products. So where does this mist come from? The whispers became clearer, becoming voices. voices... distorted, impossible to say if it was a man or a woman who spoke.

“Danny... Danny... Come with us. Come and join me in the mist... Soothe my hunger... for eternity.” Said the voice.  

“What? How do you know my name?” responds Danny approaching the door.  

“Come with us. You will be able to extinguish your thirst for blood... and mine.” replied the voice as the door slightly open letting the tip of a giant spider's leg come out of it. The same as that of his dream.

“Jed? Is everything alright?” said suddenly a woman voice.  

Danny turned to see Melina in front of the coffee machine, raising an eyebrow at his colleague's strange action. The latter nodded, pretending to have heard noise, but that it may have just been a lack of sleep. Melina nodded, she was obviously aware of the little evening you both had, before having her coffee and leaving the room. Danny glanced again at the door that seemed normal again. No more mist. No more whispers. Maybe it was just his imagination.  

Danny returned to his desk and resumed writing his article until he finished it. He took it out and went to his boss's office to show it. As usual, nothing to complain about. Then, Mattew came to present another article he was writing on his own. He and Danny left the room to return to their posts. Melina joins them a few minutes after.  

“Tell me both. I know it's going to sound a little weird, but do you believe in mystical stuff? You know premonitory dreams and all that stuff.” asks Danny suddenly.  

“No, not really.” said Mattew.  

“My grandmother believed in it; besides she had a gift of Shamanism and communication with the dead. As far as I'm concerned, I believe in it a little, but let's say that I will look for a more rational explanation before going into the supernatural. Why?” said Melina.  

“I thought it was just bullshit...have you changed your mind?" Said Jed with a smile in Danny’s mind.  

“Shut you’re f*ck up.” responds Danny mentally before looking at Melina: “Well let's say I've been having a pretty weird dream lately. And I'm looking for someone who could explain to me what that means.”  

“Tell me more. Maybe I could enlighten your lantern.” said Melina.  

Danny recounted his dream in detail. Mattew listened without understanding too much, sometimes leaning his head to one side or the other and sometimes raising his eyebrows. Melina, didn’t move an inch, listening attentively, closing her eyes from time to time, as if to think on the meaning of all this.

“OK...the reasoned side of my brain would say that... You're worried right now about (Y/N). With everything that has happened... it wasn't easy for both of you. I think the mist and the legs of spiders... represent the dangers that can arise at any time to attack you. And the fact that you get dragged and hear (Y/N) screaming, it would mean that you're afraid of not being able to protect her. My mystic side says that you attract some...negative spirits. Negative entities which try to...get you in their sides. Something so powerful that neither you or (Y/N) could resist. Maybe the revenge of a dead man... Hoggins or McKellan... or Mike. They all had a tooth against you because you were rummaging through their businesses while others would have given up.” said Melina.  

“How amazing. I've already heard that somewhere... Oh, yes! I was the one who told you that just this morning.” said Jed in Danny’s mind.  

“f**k you.” responds Danny mentally. “Well, thanks Melina. I hope it’s just fear and not some mystical thing...”

The rest of the day passed not without Danny hearing the whispers again. But he ignored them. It wasn't real to him. He returned to the apartment and went to his office to observe the now striped photos of Mike, McKellan and Hoggins. Vengeful spirits huh... Ridiculous. And why not death itself while we're at it?  It was your turn to enter the apartment slightly tired but happy. Danny left his office with his bag for his... second job. Ghostface is going out tonight.

“Wasn't it enough for you to kill Hoggins? do you always need more?” you said looking at him.

“Always Honey, always. Did you really believe that I was going to stop and become a model citizen? No no no... Once you dive into it, it's like a drug. You can't stop. But if it can reassure you, it will be a quick and painless death. He or she will not feel anything.” responds Danny with a sneaky smile.  

On his last words, Danny sent you a kiss before leaving. He set out in an uncrowded area of Roseville, making sure he was not seen and annoyed. He put on his Ghostface’s outfit, went up to the roof of a building and with his binoculars he observed the surroundings. He thought back to Melina's word. What if she was right? after all, he had to admit that these voices he heard, manifested themselves when McKellan died. But until now, he had never paid attention to it, it was tiredness for him. That’s all.  

“Tsk. I'm not going to start believing these bullshits... it will eventually pass.” said Danny to himself.

“You should believe it.” said Jed.  

Danny grumbled before looking through his binoculars again. He eventually catches a glimpse of his next victim. Poor little thing who lives her life peacefully, imagining what she will do tomorrow. Unfortunately, tomorrow will never come. After all, it's not as if the inhabitants of this neighbourhood are saints. But what Danny didn't know was that he was being watched. Not by someone. But by something. A thing that, the more Danny killed, the more the desire of this thing to have him in his ranks grew.

Until the day he will take him...and you too.

***

(There you go! We are still approaching the end of DSS little by little and I saw that you were 71 people to follow me! I could never thank you enough for following me all this time! When I compare the first chapters of DSS with the latest writings, I feel like my way of writing and telling has changed. For the better, I hope. And I hope I will continue to offer you stories that you will like! I hope you’ll like this chapter like the other ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all!  See ya! )

#dbd #dbd fanfic #dead by daylight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

[nakedmossy]

Depth Over Distance - Part Eleven  [Rudy x Reader]

[A/N: Welcome back. Short chapter to get me back into it. Sorry I was away so long, I needed to find myself again. Took longer than expected but that’s life. Its not always sunshine and roses, sometimes its cloudy skies and roots that trip you up. As long as you have the courage to carry on and the hope that tomorrow will be better, then you’re already doing more than you did yesterday. Be calm, be kind, be safe...Mossy x]  

You woke up slowly, without opening your eyes, and listened to the rhythmic sound of Rudy’s breathing beside you. You were laying somewhere soft - the couch maybe - and the air was warm and smelled of burning cedar and cologne. You felt your chest tighten and the urgent need to inhale, to circulate oxygen to your limbs, to stretch. You started with your toes, feet, then your legs, and inhaled deeply into a yawn as you moved your arms out from under a blanket.

“Hey” You heard Rudy’s voice, low and gravelly, itching with concern. You felt his hand float around your hair, softly brushing the top of your head. The corner of your mouth twitched as you started to open your eyes, the soft glow of the fire casting shadows around the room, Rudy’s wild hair and broad shoulders silhouetted in front of you.

“Hey, Y/N, slow down” A firm hand pressed into your shoulder as you tried to sit forward. Gently coaxing you back, he brought a glass of water to your lips and helped you sip until you had cleared the dry lump in your throat. Licking your lips, you felt the words form in your mouth.

“I’m still mad at you”

Rudy laughed, deep and sharp, his head dropping between his shoulder blades, before his gaze found yours. You saw candles reflected in his eyes which were wet with tears, his brow furrowed and his mouth tight. The afternoon sun shone through the window and you could hear the light patter of rain on the roof.

“You gotta stop scaring me like that” He said quietly, his hand still brushing your hair lightly away from your face.

“You gotta start telling the truth” You rebutted without missing a beat. “The whole truth” you added when his face eluded to a forthcoming retort.

He pursed his lips and nodded in resignation once before leaning forward and standing up, walking past you into the kitchen.

You moved your head around slowly, stretching your neck and wincing whenever your forehead pulled at the cut. The fire was crackling gently and the embers danced around and up into the chimney, sparking and caressing the darkness. You relaxed into the couch again, thinking back to the conversation you had had with Rudy before you collapsed. The fog set in again, the dark nagging in the pit of your stomach. You heard his words repeating in your head like a broken record; its not mine, its not mine, its not mine. Your stomach turned; you were going to be sick.

You stood as quickly as you could, tossing the blanket to the side, and scrambled towards the bathroom clutching your stomach. You barely made it to the doorway before you began to retch into the sink. Rudy called your name once from the kitchen before you heard him outside the bathroom. You kicked the door shut and held it closed with your leg, gripping either side of the sink with sweaty palms.

“Go away” you called between gasps, spitting saliva into the sink. You grabbed the jug of water from below the sink once you were sure the wave had passed and rinsed the basin out. It took a few moments before you could look at yourself in the mirror and wipe your mouth clean, you were so tired.

A gentle knock at the door reminded you Rudy was outside. You swallowed once more before taking a deep breath and turning the handle, pulling the door slowly open. Rudy took a step back and let you walk out, waiting patiently for you to gather yourself.

“I’m fine. Sorry” You said quietly, unmoving. He swallowed once and looked at the bathroom, then back to you.

“I think we need to go back to the hospital.” He was more telling than asking.

“I’m fine. Its just....its been a lot.” You motioned around you at the last 72 hours in general. “I just need...some time to recover.”

“Y/N...” He started, but you put your hands up in protest.

“Rudy. Listen to me for once, I’m not dying. I’ve had a concussion before. I know what to expect.”

He pursed his lips and set his jaw, looking over your head and taking a breath before looking back at you.

“You feeling up for a walk then? I think we could both use the air.”

You nodded slowly and let your breath out before motioning towards the bedroom where your clothes still laid in a pile on the floor. Slipping your wool socks on and pulling a sweater gingerly over your head, you felt yourself let out a small laugh at how bizarre this whole week had been since Rudy showed up. You didn’t know if your life would ever be the same. In some ways you hoped it wouldn’t be, but you needed some sense of normality back.

When you stepped out onto the porch to slip your boots on you noticed that there was a fresh stack of firewood piled in the box under the window, and the axe was stuck into the flesh of the chopping block. You inhaled deeply, revelling at the smell of the wet earth and the steam rising from the mossy ground below you and the fresh cut cedar. Behind you Rudy clicked the door closed and zipped up his vest, his muscular arms covered by a tight base layer.

“Creek?” He asked quietly, you nodded and followed him down the stairs towards the trail that lined the creek bed and wound towards a break in the forest.

You both remained silent for a few moments before the moisture in the air lifted something from your chest and tickled your throat. You coughed once, your eyes pinching shut from the throbbing pain in your head at the onset of pressure. Rudys hand found yours and squeezed it tightly.

“So” You said after clearing your throat. “Are you gonna tell me the whole story now or do I have to wait another 3 days and get in another accident?”

You smiled as you said it, coyly, but Rudy struggled to do anything but cringe.

“What story, exactly?”

“At the party, your welcome home party, when we were standing in the parking lot by the fence. I asked you to tell me about Anna, and you said very distinctly ‘she’s just my manager, that’s it’. And I told you we would talk about it another time, and that you were a terrible liar.”

Rudy scoffed in recognition and smiled quietly, looking at the tree cover. “I remember”

“Well, now is that time.”

His strong shoulders stiffened a little and he walked with more vigour than he had before. You struggled to keep pace with him, catching your toe on roots and debris every few steps and swinging your arms to quicken yourself.

“I wasn’t happy. I’ll premise all of this by saying that.” He started, his voice tight. “I was working, I had a steady income, I was doing exactly what I set out to do....but” he shook his head lightly, his hair swaying in your peripherals. “...it didn’t matter because no matter how much I worked or how hard I partied or how much money I made, I had a void I couldn’t fill.”

You looked over at him and noticed that his pace was quickening again, now you were half jogging to stay beside him.

“I was lonely and nobody noticed, or cared.” He paused, his face flushed. “Anna did.”

You stayed quiet, observing his face, trying to keep your breathing from becoming panting, but you were starting to get dizzy.

“She was a temporary distraction. A way to pass the time. It sounds awful, but...shit, sorry” He put his arm out to slow you and calmed down from the aggressive speed he was ambling down the path. “Sorry.”

You shook your head and caught your breath, holding on to his arm as a wave of dizziness passed. When you nodded and started walking again he matched your pace, slightly behind you.

“Anyways, yeah. I knew it wasn’t serious, I was in it for the wrong reasons. We kept everything quiet, just went on a few dates and made them look like meetings....it was fun for 5 minutes. When I started to notice she was taking it seriously I backed off. Or tried to. It was messy and she started to threaten me, said she would tell everyone that I took advantage of her and that it was non-consensual, which of course was total bullshit but she was smart and she knew how to talk to people and she wouldn’t have had any problem ruining my career, my life. So I left.”

You took stock of what he had said and waited a few moments before speaking. The creek was loud beside you now, the water smooth over twigs and rocks, bubbling in the back-eddy’s, crashing over the shoreline. You heard a bird overhead and listened to the sound of thunder off in the distance. The sky was grey but the storm would pass around you, you knew these skies well.

“Rudy I am so, so sorry.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, turning to fully face him. “This is....”

“...a mess” He finished for you, nodding and looking around, his arms crossed and his muscles causing the fabric to stretch. You wanted to hug him, hit her, and burn the whole damn city of LA to the ground for the shit storm he found himself in.

“What did she say to your dad?”

“She lied, naturally. Tried to tell them that the kid was mine and that she would take me to court if I didn’t pay child support.” His face was reddening and his jawline flexed. You felt dizzy again, but focussed on deep breathing. “She’s trying to refuse a paternity test.”

Your gut twisted and you reached out to touch Rudy's arm, but he flinched and turned away. Confused, you withdrew your arm and waited.

"Sorry." He muttered, pinching his eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Im sorry. Come here"

He pulled you into a hug and rested his chin on top of your head.

"I just don't feel good about any of this. I dragged you into my shit and look what happened."

"Don't do that" you started, trying to pull away. The scent of Rudy mixed with the smell of the trees and wet earth was heady and intoxicating. He squeezed you tighter.

"Its the truth. I thought I could run away from this and I can't. It followed me here, to you. And i'm sorry for that."

"Im not." You said finally, pushing back far enough so you could see his face. “I’m not at all. I’m happy you came home.” The word ‘home’ sat heavily between you, littering the air with connotation. “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

He frowned, unwillingly to accept your offer of companionship, still stuck in the deeply rooted feeling he had hurt you.

“Look at me” You said sternly, your voice sharp. He looked briefly, then looked away, so you lifted your hand to his face and forced his gaze back to you. “You’re not going through this alone. I notice, I care, and...I mean assuming you’re not going to get in your truck and leave me here to become bear bait....Im not letting you go through this by yourself. I will...I don’t know...politely ask her to pound sand and eat a dick if you need me to....or-”

“HA” He barked a laugh suddenly before grabbing your hand from his cheek and bringing it to his chest. “You’re ridiculous. But thank you.” He said genuinely. “Seriously.”

You stood in a contented silence for a few moments before he spoke again.

“Lets head back. I want to have a fire tonight.” He smiled, grabbing your hand.

“I saw.” You cooed before squeezing his hand back, falling in beside him.

The air was cooling and the sun was low, setting below the tree line. The air felt cleaner, clearer, easier to breathe. You walked in silence, both of you equally enjoying the peace that you found in the old growth forest. The soft packed earth below your feet like a wet sponge, the trees strongly shading you from the moisture packed clouds above. Something settled in you, set in your chest, calmed you. You felt happy.

_____________________________________

Tag List: @sunshinemadds​ @bluebirdsbluebells​​, @lovelymaybankk​, @poguestyleskye​, @alexa-playafricabytoto​, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​, @k-k0129​, @kimyeon-tae​, @ellystone​, @faded-blue​, @thebeautifulbookworm, @heypearce, @jjsthumbring, @poguesrforlife, @timotaychalabae​, @infinityspacesuniverse, @judayyyw, @nelebynele​, @p0gues4l​, @annedub, @justagirlpostingwhatsheloves​, @rudyypankow​, @thegeekyblondegirlwholovesstars​, @cocoopalace, @toribentleyva, @lennoxcobain, @runway-to-my-aid. @otrbnks, @jjtheangel, @thehomeiknow @lenaandcalliope, @rudths, @hopelesswritingxd, @timotaychalabae, @outerbanksbro, @otrbnks, @eclecticpuppyhollywoodhumanoid, @obx-saltlife, @perfektionsmakel @fanofmany @jeyramarie @sarapixieelliott08@lemur46

#nakedmossywrites #depth over distance #reader x rudy #rudy pankow #jj x reader #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #jj maybank #alaska

[captainscanadian]

Hope | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 2)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: Confrontations. 

Word Count: 3000+

Pairing: (Eventual) Doctor!Bucky Barnes x Patient!Reader, Rebecca Barnes x OFC Rosie Bender

Warnings: Heartbreak, Bullying, Alcohol 

A/N: This fic was my entry for @wkemeup​‘s 4K Writing Challenge. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS!

Old man Nick had been kind enough to let you borrow his truck so that you could head into town and run some errands, which you had certainly been grateful for. Despite the fact that you used to despise your hometown for the horrible memories it came with, you could not deny that there were some good people here - like Nick Fury, and Thor from the hardware store who had given you a discount on the hammer that you bought from him. 

Running into Rebecca Barnes while you were picking out the paint for your bedroom wall had not been a part of your plan. If you could have had it your way, you would have made yourself invisible the moment you saw her. But as a wise man named Harry Nelson once said, superpowers were unrealistic for a reason and real people must face real consequences in their stories. 

You knew that some people could certainly not be avoided, considering that most people you knew as a kid still remained in Shelbyville. Some people remembered you, some people didn’t, and it was meant to be that way. You hadn’t come back here to reconnect with old friends or make new ones for that matter. Your goal was to finish the book, and home improvement was just a bonus project that you had taken up while you were here. 

Once you finished this novel of yours, you could just head back to your life in LA and figure out what was next for you. Hopefully, if the fourth book is just as successful as it’s three predecessors, you could finally sign off the movie rights to Harry and work together on the adapted screenplay. Friends with benefits or not, you could not deny that the two of you worked very well together as creative partners. 

As for your childhood bedroom, you had taken down the old bulletin board and the outdated posters of the Jonas Brothers from the walls. You found yourself draping the remaining furniture in the drop cloth that you had picked up from the hardware store yesterday. Not that you cared all that much about ruining the old single bed and oakwood desk with all of that paint; you could certainly afford to buy some new furniture for the house once you finished with your little renovation. 

But a part of you was still a sentimental idiot who hoped to cherish the memories of your countless study dates in this room with a certain someone. As much as you hated the thought of him, you could not deny that he was still a significant part of your childhood. Cherish the good memories, but hold a grudge against him for the bad ones. It was not the best way to live, but it was still your way. 

Besides, if Hope Anderson was covering up her furniture when she was painting her house, then so were you. 

“Bucky, I’m really starting to feel like you’re thinking way too much about this.” Rosie called out to her girlfriend’s brother, who was pacing back and forth in his childhood friend’s front lawn. 

Her goal had been to stop by the caterer’s that morning to start figuring out the menu for the high school reunion that she was meant to plan. But when Bucky had asked her to give him a ride to your place on their way back, she found herself parked in front of your house for way longer than she would have wanted. With her windows rolled down, she stared out at her friend in utter disappointment. 

 “You’ve come this far, you idiot. What’s stopping you from going up to her door?” 

“But what if she just slams the door in my face?” 

“Then you fucking deserved it for what you did!” She groaned, clearly growing irritated by the way he had been acting ever since Becca had informed the two of them that she had run into you at the hardware store. 

She knew that he had history with you, but she had never asked to be caught up in it. Not back then, and certainly not now. With the way that Bucky was handling himself to the news of your return, all she could do is hope and pray that things did not escalate when he eventually grows a pair and faces you again.

Bucky stopped in his tracks as he looked over at her. “I know, I fucked up. You don’t have to keep saying what I did, okay? I know what I did and I’m not fucking proud of it.”

“You were an idiot, yes. We’ve been through that.” She pointed out with a shrug of her shoulders. “But it’s been ten years, Bucky. We’re adults now and… maybe she’s moved on. Maybe she would let you in.” Truth be told, she doubted that you would. But she had to say it for the sake of comforting her friend. One more minute of watching him pace back and forth would probably drive her insane. 

He let out a sigh as he walked up to her car and leaned against her car window. “Rosie, I just want to fix things between us. She hasn’t been in town in ten years and… I don’t know if I would ever have the chance to see her again. I want to do the right thing now.” 

“I hate to be the one to say it.” She admitted, sighing. “But did you ever think that… maybe it was what you did that might have been the reason why she never came home?” 

It may have crossed his mind a few times that he was the reason why you left. Not that you had ever been subtle about it either; you made it known. It may have crossed his mind when you had left Shelbyville without a goodbye. It may have crossed his mind when your mother had handed him a cardboard box full of the presents he had given you throughout the years, the ones that you had purposely left behind when you moved out. It may have crossed his mind when he had left you several voicemails throughout that summer, checking up on you as he always did, only for you to change your number before you started college.

But he had been so full of hope that you would return one day, and that he could finally recite the apology that he had been rehearsing since you left town. He hoped that you would hear him out, and forgive him for what he had done. He had hoped that you would come home for Thanksgiving that year, and join him and his sisters in making their famous pumpkin pie together. He had hoped that you would come home for Christmas, and that the two of you could build snowmen in his front lawn and put up the tree as you always did. By the time spring break came around, all of his hope had been lost, and he had realized that you weren’t actually coming back. 

Letting out another sigh, Bucky Barnes shook his head. “Oh what was I thinking?” He scolded himself as he got into the car. “Fuck… I can’t do it. I can’t face her.”

“Bucky, come on… what the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

To think that this guy really had her parked out in front of your house for a whole hour, only for him to chicken out like this!

“Just drop me off at The Tavern, please?” He asked her as he leaned back in his seat. “I could use a drink… or two.” 

“It’s only 2 pm, Dr. Barnes.” She reminded him, her eyebrow raised. 

“Bender, please.” 

Rosie let out a sigh of defeat as she started her car. “Oh who am I kidding? Dealing with your stupid ass has really got me needing a drink before 5 pm anyways.” 

You might have stocked your fridge with enough food to last you for the next two weeks, but the lack of alcohol at the house was reason enough for you to step out that evening. Leaving the bright pink paint on the walls of your childhood bedroom to dry, you found yourself hopping back in Nick’s truck and driving towards The Tavern. 

Being back in Shelbyville, Indiana still felt quite surreal to you. There was a certain sense of familiarity that came with being back in your hometown. The house was the same. The neighborhood was the same. The feeling of being home was just the same. 

But you could not deny that things were different too. The city had changed to keep up with the time that had flown by, and the lack of your mother’s presence at the house just didn't feel right. You missed her so much now. Perhaps a part of you would always regret leaving her all alone. But you did fly her out to LA for the holidays and spent as much time with her while she was still alive. All you could do is be grateful for the time that you got to spend with her, even if you hadn’t visited home as much as she would have wanted you to. 

Hope Anderson’s grief was no different from yours, which was probably why her attempt at drinking away her regrets had been crashed by a certain Jason Prescott - her childhood best friend, her first love, her first heartbreak, and her mother’s doctor who had been burdened with giving her the news that her mother was dying. 

Her love for him was the reason why she had broken up with Reid Melendez back in college. The pain that he had caused her was the reason why she realized that the pain that Ethan Sharpe had caused her was nothing in comparison. Even Jake Winston knew that he would never be able to have a place in her heart as her first love. 

As it turns out, having to spend many nights by her dying mother’s bedside had forced her to spend much more time with her former best friend than she had intended. It had allowed her to come to terms with the pain that she had buried deep. It had only been a matter of time before she realized how much she missed her best friend, and she never dared to push him away after that. 

Unbeknownst to you, your story and Hope’s story were much more entwined than you could have ever imagined. Not that you had been expecting to run into James Buchanan Barnes of all people when you entered The Tavern. But the sight of a grown man spitting out his whiskey upon your entrance sure made heads turn. 

You felt your heart pattering against your chest as you came face to face with him, and you could not deny that the years had been kind to him. His chubby cheeks had hollowed and his crooked teeth now straightened; while his hair had grown slightly in length, his bright blue eyes were just the same. 

He looked a decade older, and wiser with age, you hoped. The Bucky Barnes you knew was a seventeen year old bully, who had cared more about being a part of Brock Rumlow’s inner circle than your friendship. But was he still an absolute dickhead? You had no clue. 

You blinked for a moment, wondering if this unfamiliar image of him would fade and be replaced with the plump fifteen year old boy whom you knew as a kid. As though the last ten years had never passed and that your friendship had stood frozen in time. 

As much as you would hate to admit it, you missed him. You missed the guy who had been your best friend. You missed the guy who walked into your home every morning with a cheeky ‘honey, I’m home’ and helped himself to your mother’s famous pancakes while you got dressed. You missed the guy who walked to school with you, skipping through the cracks on the sidewalk and holding each other for balance. You missed the guy who always packed an extra lunch whenever his mother made him these salted caramel spread sandwiches, just because they were your favourite. You missed the guy he used to be, before he had ditched you and began hanging out to Brock Rumlow. 

A part of you wanted to turn away and leave the bar, while another part of you had urged you to step over to his booth and greet him. You could not avoid confronting the past for much longer. A decade has passed, so you might as well put an end to it. 

If not, you were pretty sure that Hope Anderson herself would call you a hypocrite for making her face her past while you walked away from yours. As fictional as she was, you respected her perception of you too much to do anything that she would not approve of. 

Bucky Barnes found himself trembling as he struggled to find the right words to describe how beautiful you looked. You looked a decade older than he remembered, no doubt about that. The way you dressed, it looked rather expensive. A designer peacoat straight out of the movies, and red-bottom heels that seemed way too inappropriate for this cold weather. He could not help but wonder if you were the same Y/N he knew back in high school, even though you did not look the same. 

You looked around The Tavern, greeting a few familiar faces with a smile that seemed rather forced. Not that being a New York Times Best-selling author meant that you got recognized every now and then, but these people seemed to know your mother more than they knew you, and the people of Shelbyville certainly took pride in one of their own making a name for herself in the world of literature. 

As much as Bucky wished to rise from his seat and dash out of The Tavern instead of facing you, he probably had his sister and her girlfriend  to thank for grabbing onto his wrists so that he wouldn’t try to leave. “Becca!” He whined as he looked over at her, his lips curling into a pout. 

“Oh fuck off, James!” She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her beer. “For how long do you think you are going to avoid her when she’s finally back in town for God knows how long?” 

“Come on, Buck.” Rosie gave him a rather stern look, her hand clutched around her beer as she watched you heading towards the bar. “Whether you like it or not, she’s here and I’m pretty sure she just saw that you’re here too. Just get over yourself and talk to her like the grown ass man you are. You’re not seventeen anymore.”

“What if she doesn’t want to talk to me? What if she just throws her drink at me?”

“As I said earlier, then you probably fucking deserve it!”

“I swear to fucking God…” Becca shook her head at her brother. “Just go and fucking talk to her, you idiot!” 

You wanted to avoid making eye contact with him, but you could not help but feel his eyes on you from the moment you had even set foot into this bar. You knew that he was staring at you as though he had seen a ghost, which you probably were, considering your past. But you did not want to return your gaze, for you knew that staring into his eyes for a moment too long would only dig up the emotions you had buried long ago. 

Stalling the confrontation that you knew would come inevitably, you decided that you needed some alcohol in your system in order to prepare for the emotions that would resurface in a matter of time. You watched as the lemon twist swirled around in your drink, and the condensation trickling down the cold glass. 

Looking back at the years when you had been so madly in love with Bucky, you could not deny how stupid you had been back then. Seventeen years old and fucking hormonal, all you had cared for back then was some validation - the ‘I love you too’s and the ‘you’re beautiful’s that girls your age had been desperate to hear from a stupid teenage boy. 

Falling in love with Bucky Barnes had been your biggest regret, not because he had humiliated you when he had found out about your feelings. It was because you had realized that you had been proven wrong about your perception of who he was. You had loved him because you had believed that he would treat you how every girl your age would have dreamt to be treated, only to realize that he was the complete opposite. You were ashamed of your judgement, and that made you fear having to confront him more than anything. You were not willing to admit that you had been wrong about him, even though he was the one who hand treated you wrongly. 

“I’m dreaming, right? I must be.” 

His unfamiliar voice sounded more manly and hoarse, a lot deeper than you remembered. He wasn’t seventeen anymore. But there was still a certain sense of familiarity to it; it was still his voice and you somehow knew that with the way he spoke. 

You took a sip of your drink, taking a moment too long to respond. Your heart continued to pound against your chest as you found yourself turning your head to look at him, finally taking in his sapphire-like eyes; they felt like coming home. 

“You’re full of shit, Barnes.” You remarked, rather coldly. “I know that your sister would have told you that I was back in town.” 

As you said that, you tilted your head to give the younger Barnes a wave. You had nothing against her. 

“I guess I was just not expecting to run into you like this.”

“That makes two of us.” You shrugged, setting down your glass. 

“It’s good to see you though.” 

“Can’t say the same…” 

#kas4kwc #aj writes #hope #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes angst #doctor!Bucky #doctor au

[sxvxrxssnape]

minerva mcgonagall’s personal mission to make severus love christmas part 4 

aka snolidays/snapemas day 5 and 6 (lights festival, food, memories, stockings) // pre-PS/the years between. minerva and severus friendship // ft. the hogwarts staff gently bullying sev and getting wine drunk together. mentions of sev’s plum blancmange @deepperplexity @blog4snape

The rest of the week passed by in a blur of teaching, brewing, and general sulking. 

The term wouldn’t end until late January, but final exams were scheduled for the week before winter break and Severus had a thousand other things to finalize before the break started. There was a stack of assignments he needed to grade before everyone parted, the annual inventory that needed to be done, and he had about half a dozen cauldrons slowly simmering away with potions for the infirmary, not to mention he was creating both a study guide for the upcoming exam and an assignment that could be turned in for extra credit.

If even one student dared to fail his class after all the effort he put into making sure they passed, he was going to turn them all into frogs. 

He almost felt bad that he hadn’t made much time for Minerva, and aside from seeing each other at meals - and even then, Severus wasn’t quite known for his perfect attendance in the Great Hall - he hadn’t spoken more than eight words to her since their trip to Diagon Alley. 

It wasn’t as if he were avoiding her. 

Much.

He just needed a few days to himself - as much as he could get when he taught two classes a day (three on Wednesdays and Thursdays) anyway. He knew the only reason they hadn’t talked about his miniscule breakdown was because they had been in public and maybe he was a little afraid of being cornered by her in private. 

It was Friday now, his afternoon class had just ended, he had already checked on the status of his cauldrons, so all that was left on his to-do list was to hide himself away inside of his quarters and sulk.

Except he was all out of sugar.

Alright, not the worst problem to have and yes, he could call up a house elf and simply ask for the container to be refilled, but maybe a small part of him wanted to run into Minerva on neutral ground, so he wouldn’t have to knock on her door and risk coming off as lonely and needy. So rather than being a normal-functioning adult about this, he took his coffee ground-filled french press and flooed directly into the staff lounge.

He didn’t spend very much time in this particular room - large, brightly lit, and nestled between two towers somewhere on the fourth floor with large windows that overlooked the quidditch pitch - but it wasn’t for lack of trying. He found the lounge to be rather appealing, with its burning fireplace, sitting area, stacks of abandoned books, journals, and magazines, abundance of cabinets he liked to rifle through, and best of all, the fully stocked coffee bar off to the left of the round table. 

The room wasn’t empty, and unfortunately, devoid of the person whom he was seeking. Pomona was sitting at the table with a cup of tea, poring over a stack of papers with a furrowed brow and a bit of ink smeared over her cheek. Aurora was sitting on the lone couch, momentarily distracted from the magazine she had been leafing through to look up at him as he entered, eyebrow raised at the contraption he cradled. 

“What brings you here?” she asked, flicking her wand towards the record player and lowering the music that had been softly playing.

The action caused the herbology professor to look up and she frowned. “Oh, Severus.” she greeted, barely giving him more than a cursory glance. “I haven’t seen you here in a bit; thought you might have forgotten where it was.”

“Well, he did floo.” Professor Sinistra returned, her lips curling into a grin. “It’s quite possible he forgot where to find the door.”

“I didn’t forget.” Severus scowled, making his way towards the bar. 

“You tell yourself that.”

“There’s tea if you want some.” Pomona called out, raising her own teacup. “Mint.”

He ignored the steaming teapot in favor of the kettle, flicking his wand to heat up the water before pouring a little over the grounds in the press. He missed the simple pleasures of having an electric coffee maker - perhaps the only positive that came from summers at Spinner's End - but he would be lying if he said he didn’t prefer the taste of the pretentious, one-cup-at-a-time brew.

While the grounds took the time to presoak, he wandered over to the pink pastry box and eyed its contents. The house elves always made sure to stock the staff room with snacks - biscuits, fruit, packages of crisps - but pastries from the local bakery were the most sought out after. 

“The blueberry strudel belongs to Filius,” Pomona suddenly mentioned, not looking up from her task, “he’s already claimed it.”

Severus scowled at the remaining treat. “He’s not here, is he?” he mumbled, opening the box. He yelped as something sharp pierced his hand and drew back immediately, his face coloring slightly as Aurora started laughing.

“Like she said,” Aurora chuckled. “Filius already claimed it.” 

Severus cursed under his breath and returned to his coffee, pulling down a clean mug and the sugar jar on the way. He was pouring the rest of the hot water when the door opened. 

“French press again?” Minerva’s voice asked.

“Like he makes it any other way.” Aurora returned. “Professor I-Brew-Potions-For-A-Living is, unsurprisingly, the coffee snob among us.” 

“I am not.” Severus frowned, placing the plunger over the glass and giving it a slight swirl before setting it aside. “It’s not my fault the rest of you don’t have any taste.” 

“Oh, the baby thinks he has taste.” 

Severus blinked. “Perhaps I’ll refrain from giving you a gift this year after all.” he muttered, glaring at her. “Also, you’re the second youngest professor here.”

“But not the youngest.” Aurora grinned. “That pleasure is all yours, I’m afraid.”

Before Severus could form a rebuttal, Pomona stood up and gathered her papers, rushing towards the door with an annoyed, “I can’t get any work done with you two around.” Aurora followed suit, magazine under her arm, a cheeky, “baby” escaping her lips as she closed the door behind her. 

Severus sat down in Pomona’s abandoned chair, hands in his hair, as he groaned out a, “I’m most definitely not giving her a gift now.”

Minerva laughed and sat down across from him, a cup of mint tea in her hands. 

“Are we still on for tomorrow?”

“The lights?”

Minerva nodded and he considered her question as he got up to finish making his coffee. He grabbed milk from the cold cupboard and then stopped to look at her. “What if we went tonight, instead?”

“Tonight?”

Severus shrugged, sitting down with his cup and a package of biscuits. “We can grab dinner beforehand, I’m thinking Italian.”

“Really?”

“Invite some of the others.”

Minerva eyed him carefully. “Do my ears deceive me, Severus Snape, or are you suggesting a staff outing to see the lights? You?”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll let everybody know.” 

--

“I think we should hang the stockings in the staff room.”

“What?”

“The stockings.” Minerva emphasized, buttoning her capelet. She was standing in front of her dressing mirror, adjusting the green tartan fabric over her shoulders. She was wearing a long sleeved dress under it and, no doubt, a warming charm had already been cast over the black fabric. Her hair was free of its usual pins, the soft curls seemingly trying their best to retain their accustomed shape. 

They were both in her private quarters, Severus sprawled on her couch with a book, as she finished getting ready for their outing. He had opted for his usual black on black on black, but had foregone his cloak for the grey wool coat he rarely wore. 

So rarely, that when he put his hands in his pockets, he came across the crumpled ticket of a play he had seen two winters ago. 

He couldn’t remember much about the show itself, but it had been the first time he had been invited to go out by his fellow colleagues and he had jumped at the chance. Of course, he had first pretended to consider it for half a day before telling Albus that he had nothing better to do that day and that he might as well tag along.

“Are you listening?”

“No.” Severus admitted, returning to the present. 

Minerva scowled. “I said, we should hang the stockings we bought in the staff room. It’s got a fireplace and the room is awfully drab, don’t you think? Plus, it's neutral ground so both our stockings can be up together.”

“Well, alright.”

“Excellent, let’s go then.”

“Now?”

“We have dinner reservations at seven - which is in twenty minutes, I might add - so yes, right now. Before we’re late.”

They flooed into the staff lounge, finding Aurora leafing through a book and listening to music once again. She raised an eyebrow at the paper shopping bag they were carrying. 

“What’s this?”

“Christmas.” Minerva replied simply, pulling out a stocking and handing it over. His name was now stitched along the edge in black thread and he frowned. 

“When did-?”

“I asked the house elves when we first got back.”

They hung their stockings on the mantle with a temporary sticking charm and surveyed their work. 

“I expect the rest of you to have a stocking on here by next week.” Minerva insisted, taking Severus’ hand and leading him out the door. “Come now, or we’ll be late.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Severus asked Aurora, pretending to eye her teaching robes in confusion. “We’re going out to dinner and then the lights festival.”

Aurora scowled at him, eyeing him carefully. “I would, but I have a class tonight.” she muttered, glancing out the window at the darkened sky. It was cloudless and few stars could be seen from her vantage point; there was no reason to cancel Astronomy tonight.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” Severus shrugged, turning around quickly to hide his smirk. “I wouldn’t have chosen tonight if I knew.”

“Liar.” 

The door closed behind them. 

“You know I don’t approve of this.” Minerva told him, as they made their way down the stairs and out of the castle. 

“Don’t approve of what?”

Minerva shook her head at him, but didn’t answer.

They met Filius at the front door, his too-long blue scarf trailing behind him as they made their way towards the apparition point. They met Pomona on the way and once they cleared the wards, apparated into an alley close to the restaurant. 

Albus was already waiting inside, looking perfectly at ease in his three-piece suit, sipping on a glass of white wine.

“Ah, there you all are.” he greeted them, as they took their seats. “This wine is absolutely wonderful, by the way - do order a glass.”

“Someone dressed up for the occasion.” Minerva eyed the headmaster.

“I wear it quite well, don’t I?”

They were brought water glasses and bread, offered three types of wine - “I really must insist on the pinot gris.” Albus interrupted - and given a set of menus.

“It’s been a while since we’ve all gone out.” Filius mentioned, taking a slice of baguette and dipping it in olive oil and balsamic. “It’s quite nice.”

“We have Severus to thank for the idea,” Albus grinned, clasping a hand on his shoulder. He flinched slightly, but he didn’t think anyone noticed. 

Except for Albus, who immediately dropped his hand and offered an apologetic look. 

They ordered - and unsurprisingly, Minerva ordered herself the special - and fell into easy conversation as they waited for their meal. When the food arrived, it was met with excited sounds from the (perhaps a little wine-tispy) table and plates were quickly passed around with insistent, “You need to try this fried stracchino!” and “I swear, you will never taste a better beef stracotto pasta than this one.” and even a, “Listen, I know it sounds weird, but I’m telling you - you have to try the baccala! I don’t care if you don’t like fish!” 

The dessert menu left him a little discombobulated and he ordered himself coffee while the others shared rum babas and marzipan balls. One of the rum soaked sponge cakes was pushed towards him, split down the middle and filled with cream and sour cherries. He glanced up from his bicerin to find Minerva watching him.

“Try it, before these vultures get to it.” 

He obliged, cutting a piece off with his fork. 

“Why are you frowning?” Minerva asked, leaning closer. The others were a little pink-faced, laughing, as they played a game of rock-parchment-diffundo for the last chocolate and marzipan ball. “We are eating delicious food and drinking delicious wine - two things I know you like - and then we’re going to see the lights with all our friends. You shouldn’t be frowning.”

“I think you’ve had enough wine.” 

She made a face at him. “Oh, let me guess.” she pursed her lips. “You have some sort of traumatic childhood memory involving all of this and you are currently reliving it in your head.”

Severus scowled. “I don’t have a traumatic memory for everything.”

“Could have fooled me.” Pomona spoke up, inserting herself into their conversation. The others stopped and turned to look at him. “You’re so grumpy all the time, I just figured your whole life was simply continuous trauma.”

“I’ll revoke your christmas gift too, don’t test me.”

Pomona straightened up. “Oh, you got me a gift?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie!” Pomona grinned, pointing at him. “You got me a gift!”

“Don’t think you’re special.” Severus muttered. “It’s not just you.”

“Severus got us all gifts!” Filius realized. “Severus loves us!”

He made eye contact with the headmaster. “Consider this my official resignation.”

Albus nodded, his expression turning serious. “Of course, my boy, I understand.” His eyes twinkled. “It’s a shame my staff cannot be more professional when they venture out of the castle walls, but alas, there is a reason I do not let them wander far.” 

“Truly awful.”

“Severus loves us!” Pomona repeated and the table burst into giggles, save for Severus who covered his face with his hands. And he was the youngest of this lot?

They paid soon after that - Severus discretely cancelling the silencing and repelling charms they had cast on their table to hurry them along - and made their way towards the nearby park where the lights festival had been set up. The others wandered off on their own, leaving Minerva and Severus to walk the paths alone. 

Once the others had wandered far enough ahead that their conversation would no longer carry, Minerva learned slightly into her friend, nudging his shoulder. “Now will you tell me?”

“It’s not a traumatic childhood memory, if that’s what you mean.”

“But you did remember something.” Minerva pressed. 

“Yes.”

The path they walked was illuminated by tiny orbs, leading towards a tunnel strung with hundreds of white and blue lights. As they walked through it, Severus fell silent and simply looked up, sneaking glances of the night sky beyond the wire cage that held up all the lights. 

There was a giant christmas tree waiting for them when they exited the tunnel, made entirely of green and gold twinkles - strings of lights pulled taut from a metal pole and pinned onto the ground. Similar displays surrounded it, contraptions of metal and colored lights creating bow-tied gift boxes and ornaments, stars and snowflakes, all glowing in the dark. 

All the natural trees were wrapped in lights as well, not a single twig or branch left uncovered. Giant, glowing candy canes dotted the path now and they followed it, taking in every sparkling display. Music was playing and though others wandered the path, no one stood too close. 

“I remember my mum used to make this dessert when I was little, it was a blancmange made from dirigible plum and cardamom, I believe." 

"Oh?"

"She used to tell my father they were persimmons." he smiled softly. "Said she learned the recipe from her grandmother. It was probably my favorite part of the holiday break. I helped her make it one year; funnily enough, that was also the last Christmas I had with her."

"You said it wasn't a traumatic memory." Minerva scolded. 

"It's not." Severus defended himself. "It's one of my only good ones."

"There was blancmange on the menu." Minerva remembered, smiling sadly. She watched a pair of children run between the candy canes, their laughs echoing as they chased each other. 

"Fig leaf and orange." Severus recited. "It made me realize I haven't seen anywhere serve that particular dessert, let alone one made from dirigible plums. I miss it."

"Perhaps we could make it."

"You think?"

"Why not?" 

Minerva nodded towards a coffee stall and they ordered themselves the gingerbread hot chocolate. They cradled their red paper cups and took small sips as they wandered through the park, pointing out certain displays. 

"Perhaps nostalgia is getting the best of me." Severus finally circled back to their conversation. "But I find myself wanting to try. I don't have much left to remind me of her, especially not without also thinking of my father, but that one? That one's all ours."

"Elphinstone and I used to make a yule log cake." Minerva offered. "Down to the mushroom meringues and everything."

"I've never had one."

"Well, perhaps a baking day is in order."

"Perhaps it is." 

-----

a/n: this is starting to feel more like minerva and severus' adventures in eating out

hope you enjoyed the staff picking on my problem child a little

menu inspiration comes from bocca di lupo, london (sometimes i wonder if places ever search themselves to see what people are saying and find they're being featured in harry potter fanfics and the like)

stracchino - a soft, creamy cheese which the restuarant serves fried stracotto - italian pot roast, served with pasta here baccala - preserved, salted cod (fried) bicerin - a hot drink made from espresso, drinking chocolate, and milk blancmange - this one's special because i took a direct quote from the hogwarts mystery game, where sev reminisces about this dessert and gave it more backstory. its a sort of gelatin dessert, sweet and milky. bocca di lupo has a fig and orange panna cotta on their menu, which is basically the same thing (just different thickeners) so i traded it out for the sake of using the one tidbit i know about the game.

#snapemas 2020 #snolidays2020 #snapedom #pro snape #severus snape #snapemas #professor snape #snapecember #holiday writing challenge

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 4

Cara missed her first two classes, having been knocked out into the late morning hours, courtesy of her dad. No parents were rushing to wake her up, no breakfast waiting for her, no offer for a ride to school. She woke up with a gash on her head, an abdomen that was an artwork of black and blue. The cause of it all was a dealer who had no stock to sell. His suppliers suddenly cut all contact leaving her parents without their fix.

Last night her dad came home seconds from exploding. He almost broke down the door as he struggled to open it in his drunken stupor, nose flaring and teeth grinding into dust even before his eyes locked on her. While these beatings were nothing new to Cara, she will admit that his hand was extra heavy yesterday, evidenced by the deeper shades on her skin. Her mother didn't even have to add anything into the mix, satisfied by her husband's handiwork.

Cara just couldn't wait to leave, but money was a dilemma. She tried her best to get the odd job here and there, whatever she could find, really. Things were even more difficult since her parent recently took to stealing her hard-earned money, ransacking her bedroom for anything worth selling. Not even the mattress stuffing or the soles of her shoes were a safe place.

Adding to her troubles was the potential loss of a job. She could no longer babysit Sherry and hasn't been contacted by the Birkins. Still, perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. After all, these people were beyond dangerous, and she would do just about anything to never meet that man again. It still broke her heart to be cut away from such a sweet little girl, the separation was sudden, and god knows how hard that must've hit Sherry, losing one of the few people she trusted.

As expected, both her parents were gone. They were likely fishing for another dealer, and if they did not find what they were looking for, she knew what will be waiting for her tonight. It was better to stay away from home for now, and it didn't matter where.

While the other bruises were easier to hide, the limp in her walk was too obvious. She had just finished formulating a story by the time she made it to her third class, auto-mechanics. Usually, people ate up her stories without a problem, curbing their questions as their concern lacked genuinely. The real issue was Claire. She'll spit the story right out without even tasting it.

Claire was already waiting in their usual spot. Despite the pain, Cara tried her best to be as subtle as possible but attempting the once flawless movement of her legs took a considerable amount of control.

"Hey, you," Claire cracked a smile as soon as she spotted her friend. "Missed you at lunch. Actually, missed you for like half the day. Where've you been off to? Could've invited me too."

" Stayed up too long watching reruns and then ended up sleeping in. I scared my mom this morning when I came out of my room. She thought I was a burglar." Cara giggled over her lies, struggling to fight the grimace as she took a seat. Thankfully, Claire didn't seem to notice, leaning back in her chair to put up her red hair into a high ponytail. Care relaxed inwardly, feeling safe from the questions.... for now.

Half an hour later, Claire slid beneath the car donated to the school while Cara sat next to her on the floor leaning against the door. Cara was glad. This way, she could finally slouch over and breathe, gladly keeping the weight off her bad leg. The radio played a series of pointless advertisements adding nothing valuable to the background noise. Mr. Crawford liked the radio host, but Cara thought he simply lived to promote Michael Warren or was paid handsomely to do so. Sure, the mayor had done much for the city. Still, she found all this prosperity odd, especially under such a short period of time. Something smelled fishy.

"This shit can't be fixed," Claire grumbled, sliding out from below the hunk of metal, tossing the greasy gloves next to her on the floor. The car was so weathered the paint came off in large chips as she peeled whatever was left of it on the door.

"Something Claire Redfield can't fix? Well, that's a surprise." Cara giggled, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't fix what's not there. Half the parts are missing. The idiot who donated the car must've stolen it, took whatever was worth shit, and donated the rest to get rid of the evidence."

"Looks like you've been hanging around the station too long. What, are you going to start an investigation now?"

"If I wanted that bike upgrade, then I obviously need money, and you know I don't like asking my brother for money. But what I don't mind asking for is a job around the station. Pretty much everyone knows me by now. It's like a foot in the door. I'll just annoy them until it's official."

"Once they hire you as a janitor, don't forget about me. Then we can break into the records room where they keep all those juicy storybooks."

"Okay, that's a fun idea. But here's another idea! How about we not get my brother fired along with us. Plus, you forget where we live. Nothing major happens around here."

"That's where you're wrong," Cara whispered before mentally slapping herself. She tensed, begging higher entities that Claire heard nothing.

"What do you mean?" Claire perked up, reminding her of a puppy who heard the sound of the treat bag opening.

"Oh, nothing," Cara tried to play it off, not want her friend to dig deeper. If there was one thing she learned last Friday, it was to keep her mouth effectively shut. She was already screwing herself over and placing a friend in danger. Her pulse began racing with the prospect that she already said too much.

"Cara," Claire crawled towards her friend, a threat in he voice. "You heard something or...saw something? You can tell me, I'm your friend. Chris and I will always be there for you."

"I know. You remind me of that every day. It's not a big deal. I'm just worried about the level of stupidity in this town. I've heard about the three seniors who got caught breaking into Kendo's gun shop last night. He had them lined up on their knees with their hands behind their head by the time the cops came. The whole street watched them."

"Ugh, I've never seen someone do something as stupid in my life. Had to hear all about it from Chris. In fact, that's all he talked about last night and this morning. Don't get in the wrong crowds, bluh bluh. Guns are bad bluh bluh." As claire grumbled through her rant, Cara knew she had successfully steered the boat to safety.

"Well, it's nice to have a brother. I wouldn't mind a lecture or two."

"Oh honey, I can help with that," Claire cocked her head to the side with a gleam in her eyes.

"No, yours are excluded."

"Oh, ha ha, you'll be begging for it one day. Now be a good girl and be on the watch out. I'm taking a nap." Claire said, sliding back below the car before getting into a comfortable position. "Oh, and give me a foot massage while you're at it,"

"It'll cost you."

"Wait till I hear back about a job, and then we'll talk,"

They stayed like that, Claire breathing softly while Cara listened absentmindedly at the radio. Her thoughts were yet again plagued by the events of last Friday. It was suffocating having to mentally recover from something so scarring and no one around her knowing a thing. She had no one to talk to. The words of the host were starting to become much more appealing than her thoughts.

"Michael Warren did so much for Raccoon decades before he was mayor, but with him in power, we're doing so much better, growing faster than ever before. We all gotta thank him for that, you know? Everyone was skeptical about big pharma moving in, but he made a good partnership with them, and the jobs came raining down. Have you seen the homeless folk on the streets? No, cause they all got help, been offered good jobs, their lives are turned for the better. Y'all look at the jails. They are pretty much empty. Nobody needs to turn to stealing for a living when good-paying work is right in front of them." The host trailed on, with Cara barely listening to the shameless paid promotion. The supposed decrease in crime seems a bit far-fetched to Cara. Maybe the robbers, murders, fraudsters, and rapists just moved their activity to the next town over for whatever reason, much like her dad and his dealings? But if there were so many work opportunities, why couldn't someone come 'help' her parents? Uproot them out of the dark pit they dug?

"Hey, you coming?"

"What?" Cara snapped back to reality, realizing Claire was already on her feet, stretching her back.

"The assembly?"

"Oh...?" Cara frowned, forcing a straight face as she pulled her aching body up.

"I guess I can't blame you. You did miss half the day. Come on, I want to get a seat in the very back, makes for a speedy getaway." Claire was already out the door, staring back at her friend with her hands on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot.

"You go ahead and reserve me a seat. I just need to go to the washroom." Cara said, hoping to walk to the gym at a slower, less painful pace.

"Fine, but don't be too long," Claire said before jogging away.

Taking her sweet time, Cara turned a 5-minute walk to the gym into 10 minutes, but even then, that was still an exhausting mission. Soon she was seated next to Claire with the rest of the students as they waited for the presenter.

The gym was in a state of chaos. Everyone talked over the other. But this was not a surprising thing considering it was the last period of the day and the events of last night.

When Cara looked over the stage, she was surprised, seeing a banner with the Racoon police department STARS name on it. Great, it was another talk with the cops, most likely about drugs and whatnot.

"Hey, maybe your brother is here,"

"Chris? He would've told me,"

A throat clearing next to the speaker's podium failed to get the attention of the kids. It was followed by a very authoritative "Attention,"

Cara never experienced so much power put into a single word, but it was loaded, and it succeeded in forcing everyone to smack their lips shut.

For a few seconds, she was staring but unable to focus, her muscles tensed, ready to make a break for it. She held her breath, slid down her seat, covered her face with a curtain of hair, and for added measure, she put her head down. She hoped to stay hidden in the crowds of students.

It was Albert Wesker at the podium, hands resting on the edges. His eyes didn't have to scan the crowds for long, finding her easily. Her attempt to hid was adorable but in vain. He could track down men in another country given extraordinarily little info, and the foolish little thing thought she could hide in a measly crowd of 1200 hormone-riddled teens.

"I am Captain Albert Wesker of STARS, and five days ago, there had been an unfortunate, unfortunate accident. Maxwell Robford was barely five years older than many of you. Driving while drunk, he ended up wrapped around a tree and was incinerated along with his car. That road wasn't popular, and it would take days for someone to stumble across the wreck and give us a call. We could only recover a pile of ashes and bones to return to his family. Our hearts go to them. I'm here on behalf of STARS to urge you to stop drinking and driving because the next incident may not only result in us digging out your corpses but those of others. The morgue is no place for people so...young. That's all from me, and now my partner will add a few more words." Wesker stepped away from the podium, nodding as the other uniformed officer took over. The next speaker struggled to calm the students, who all at once started talking about the accident.

"That’s so terrible. I feel so bad for his family," Claire said, leaning her head back.

"Yeah..." Cara answered absentmindedly, unable to take away her eyes from the crooked officer. She was angry that he could come to her school and pretend to be an officer of the law concerned for the futures of the kids in the room. If anything, she could bet all the money she had that the kid died because of a foul. Maybe, Wesker himself arranged the scene before it was supposedly...discovered. Perhaps that poor kid saw something he shouldn't have and paid the price. And maybe she'll also end up in an unfortunate accident sooner or later. The thought of that sent the bile straight up. She rocked herself, mind reeling with the possibility.

"I'm going to the washroom," Cara said quietly, her voice unusually thick as she could not push the lump down. Raising from her seat, she rushed out of the gym, feeling the world closing in on her. She was barely aware of Claire calling out to her and the man on the stage who followed her with his eyes.

Completely bypassing the washroom, Cara burst through the school's back doors before throwing her back against the garbage bins, sliding to the floor. The stench didn't register as her brain tricked her into thinking she could smell burning flesh. Thinking about what the kid must have felt while burning up, she shut her eyes tightly, unable to handle such imagery. She didn't try to control her sobs, letting them overpower her without caring about who was watching.

Someone was watching, and they were amused.

"You know, it's rude to walk out while a speaker is presenting. We take the time out of our boorish days to speak to a bunch of idiots who won't hang onto a single word we say. A complete and utter waste of time." Wesker spoke, walking around the garbage can to look down at Cara. The silence came sharply as she noticed his presence. It was hard to believe the girl cowering in the corner was the same person who risked her life to protect his little Sherry.

"Did you kill him?" Cara whispered, her puffy eyes finding his.

"Who?" standing in front of her, Wesker squatted down to her level.

"You know who I am talking about."

"Still in the mood for asking questions? Do you think he will be more alive having that knowledge?" Wesker reached over with a gloved hand to push the hair away from her face, enjoying the complete mess she was. The girl was like this because of him, and he loved having that power. He didn't have to do a thing to get to her. Merely show up.

" I didn't say anything to anyone, I swear. Please just leave me alone." Her voice was octaves higher, uncaring when it fragmented at the end. Even if someone heard her, she doubted they would help. The decorated officer can make up a story more likely believable than a word out of her mouth. She was alone and wholly regretted leaving the gym. Cornering herself, she practically led him to her.

"Our encounters will only end once I say so. Now, answer this. Why were you limping?" Wesker watched as she flinched when his hand came to rest on her injured leg. He found this development displeasing. Someone trespassed on his right to be the only one to hurt her, to use her, to kill her. And correction was in order.

#resident evil #albert wesker #Albert Wesker X OC #albert wesker x oc

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Coming Up Easy - The First Job

Here’s this weeks installment of Coming Up Easy. Read it on Ao3 here!

---

     Alex stared at the suit he’d laid out on the chair next to his bed in preparation for the next morning. He’d been at his new job as a systems analyst for a week and a half and he was pretty overwhelmed by it. He’d interned doing something similar, but this was a lot more pressure than he’d been expecting. He sighed and listened to the quiet of the apartment around him. If he strained, he could detect his neighbors above him padding through their apartment and talking. It was late and most of the building around him was dark as people shut down to await the next day. He wasn’t feeling like shutting down. He was feeling restless. Guiltily, he looked at his phone and thought about Michael. It wasn’t as late in New Mexico as it was in Toronto. 

Me 1:08 a.m.>> You up? <<Michael 1:12 a.m.>> I am. Miss me? Me 1:12 a.m.>> Shut up. Me 1:13 a.m.>> Yes. Me 1:13 a.m.>> It’s quiet tonight and I don’t feel like sleeping yet. Talk to me. That always makes me tired. <<Michael 1:14 a.m.>> Ouch! <<Michael 1:15 a.m.>> Thought you loved my mouth…  ;) Me 1:16 a.m.>> Only when it’s otherwise occupied. <<Michael 1:18 a.m.>> Noted. <<Michael 1:20 a.m.>> So how’s the new job so far? Me 1:21 a.m.>> Ugh. A job. It’s a lot. I think I’m beginning to understand the salary. <<Michael 1:22 a.m.>> Need me to come take you for lunch?

    Alex grinned and flopped down on his barely-made bed. It was still just a mattress on the floor. He hadn’t yet gotten around to going to Ikea or Target to get proper furniture past what he needed to absolutely survive. 

    He closed his eyes and imagined Michael strolling into the 12th floor lobby area in his dusty cowboy gear, curls sunkissed and wild, looking around all the granite, marble, and glass trying to spot Alex’s office. He imagined the few coworkers he saw regularly side eyeing him as they hustled around with their print outs and portfolios and he smiled to himself. It was a nice fantasy.

Me 1:25 a.m.>>Maybe someday. Me 1:28 a.m. >>Remember when I worked at the Emporium and you came up and practically mauled me in that little closet behind the ticket booth? <<Michael 1:29 a.m.>> The one where you had the safe and you kept all the extra papers and shit? Yeah, I remember it. I still smile when I pass by. Me 1:30 a.m.>> That was the first time you kissed me. <<Michael 1:31 a.m.>> That was the first time I did a lot of things with you. ;)

    Their mingled breath stirred and barely registered in the hot, cramped stock closet. Alex had hastily hung up the Back in 5! sign and shoved Michael into the closet so they could “talk.” He’d barely had a chance to turn from shutting the door when he felt Michael’s large, warm hands grabbing his face and holding him still so he could press his lips against Alex’s. It was too rough, too dry, and too sudden, but it still managed to knock Alex’s socks off for sheer enthusiasm. When Michael finally pulled back, they stared at each other for a moment in silence. Both of them with their eyes wide and surprised and Michael’s with so many questions. ‘Is this alright?’, ‘Did he do good?’, and ‘Is this what Alex wanted too?’ chief amongst them. 

    Alex pushed forward and pressed his open lips against Michael’s, pulling them slightly in invitation as he moved fluidly from one kiss to another. Michael caught on quick and after a few minutes, let Alex lead while he improvised elsewhere. His hands roamed over Alex’s shoulders and arms, down the sides of his ribs to his waist and hips, around to his back and up. He seemed to want to touch everywhere he could and it was exhilarating and exciting and distracting to Alex who wanted to kiss until he died of asphyxiation because somehow this was the hottest thing to ever happen to him. This fumble in a closet that smelled like plywood, brown paper, and metal was wiping clear the cluttered memories of naked guys in the locker room or suave twenty-somethings offering to show him a thing or two in the bathroom of Planet 7. 

    “You’re such a good kisser,” Michael mumbled when they absolutely had to break apart, his lips brushing against Alex’s as he talked. They couldn’t get close enough. Alex could feel how much this was working for Michael against his hip and he was sure Michael could feel his agreement with the situation as well. Alex shifted down to his knees and quickly started pawing at the button on Michael’s jeans. “HOLY SHIT, what are you doing?!”

    “I was going to blow you if that’s okay,” Alex sassed, giving him a sarcastic quirk of his eyebrow before triumphantly getting Michael’s pants unfastened. 

    “You don’t have to do that…” Michael started, sounding less sure as Alex pulled his jeans and underwear down to mid thigh, exposing his erection to the open air. He smelled like sweat and faintly like musk, but also clean and the sight of him made Alex’s mouth water. 

    “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. But I want to. Do you want me to?” Alex asked, looking up to check Michael’s face. Michael looked dumbstruck, but he nodded when Alex caught his eye. “Then let me do it. I have to get back out there in ten minutes.”

    Without further ado, Alex reached out and smoothed his hand over Michael’s cock. He pushed back his foreskin and swiped his tongue over the sticky, wet cockhead, and then he went to town. 

The rest of the memory is sensation and the sounds of Michael’s high, breathless sighs above him and the feeling of his spasmic, clenching fingers against the muscles of his shoulders. Alex remembers wiping his mouth, embarrassed by the fact that he’d been able to cum just from blowing Michael, and thinking he needed to get back out there and possibly to a bathroom to clean up. 

He stood up while Michael was still breathing hard and collapsed on top of the metal safe. 

    “Wait, where are you going?” Michael asked, grabbing his hand as he turned to leave. 

    “I’m… bathroom. To clean up?” Alex replied, eyes darting down to the barely-discernible damp spot on the front of his black dickies. 

    “Oh…” Michael said, sounding somehow impressed and disappointed. “Does… does this mean we’re dating?”

    “What? No. I can’t have a boyfriend, my dad would literally murder both of us if he found out,” Alex replied quickly, almost laughing at the idea. It was the kind of laughter that comes from an absurd truth that one couldn’t deny. 

    “Then, what is this? I mean… I’d like to do this again. Maybe this time I’d get a chance to touch you,” Michael said slowly. The cum cooling in Alex’s underwear was unpleasant, but Michael’s face was breaking his heart. He looked a little hurt and a little lost and a lot hopeful. 

    “Friends…. With benefits. We’re friends with benefits. That’s all I can do right now,” Alex said apologetically. Michael smiled wryly, but nodded. He understood scarcity and secrecy too well. Alex nodded once back and then left the closet. 

Me 1:33 a.m.>> You know, I could never go into that room without thinking I smelled you in there still. <<Michael 1:34 a.m.>> Scent memory is a thing, but I thought it was like you had to smell something and it brought up memories, not the other way around. Me 1:35 a.m.>> Maybe it’s both ways. 

    Alex yawned and shut off the light next to his bed. The ambient half-dark of the city glowed in past the slits in his curtains and illuminated his room slowly as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He felt his phone buzz where he’d left it laying on his chest. 

<<Michael 1:36 a.m.>>I always think of you when I see ticket booths for museums. Me 1:37 a.m.>> Good. Me 1:39 a.m.>> I’m going to go try and sleep. Talk to you later. Michael 1:40 a.m.>> Miss me. Me 1:40 a.m.>> Will do. 

#coming up easy #malex wip #wip wednesday