#and it's difficult to convince someone that yes i can pay the bills and yes i am jobhunting please trust me

[draconicace]

puts "how to find a roommate in a different state" into search bar

results: "reach out to people you know! :)"

#aiden's monologuing #ah yes the people i know. those people. the people i've known for years. they definitely exist #i really do just need like. a person to hold my hand and guide me through this lmao #please. i need a rulebook. just let me borrow it #this would be easier if i could find a job but employers want me to already live there and i can't live there without a job but i can't #work there if i don't live there. do you see the feedback loop #and it's difficult to convince someone that yes i can pay the bills and yes i am jobhunting please trust me #while we live in an extremely bad economy that anyone would understandably hedge their bets in #whatever. i'm whining because i'm stressed and don't have a solution #truly what i want is a witch who matches people up like yes. you can live together well. all will go smoothly

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

part 2 to ethan x camgirl reader where he orders another one on one and then they decide to meet up 🙊

I've been hesitating whether or not to make a part 2 for 'pretty boy'...here it is!!

Warnings: smut, masturbating, dirty talk,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

A few weeks later, after a difficult exam, Ethan decided to reward himself by buying another private session with his favorite camgirl. He had been forced to re-watching your regular videos lately, having missed most of your lives due to exams coming up. Now, his cock was half-hard, heavy and aching to be touched, and he could feel a slight twitch as he allowed his thoughts to wander to seeing you live — and having you all to himself — in less than ten minutes. 

The black screen turned on and Ethan jumped when you said his name.

‘’Hi! Ethan, right?’’ It was rare you remembered customers, but Ethan’s sweet face and doe eyes were etched in your memory. Along with the big cock he was hiding in his pants.

Ethan nodded, surprised you remembered him. ‘’Yes.’’ 

‘’Where have you been? I haven't seen your name pop up in my recent lives…’’ you asked with a slight pout.

‘’Yeah…sorry. I’ve been busy with school. College is though.’’ 

‘’Me too, honestly. Balancing weekly live sessions with college has been quite challenging,’’ you admitted, forgetting for a short moment that you were talking with a paying customer and not a friend. 

‘’Can’t you take a small break? School is important.’’ Ethan didn’t want to sound like a parent, he was just concerned about your well-being. It was sweet that he cared. 

You sighed. ‘’I wish. Unfortunately, I can't afford that luxury. Those lives are what pays my bills.’’ 

As the conversation continued, you reminded yourself to keep track of time. After Ethan, three more people purchased private sessions.

‘’Enough about me. What do you want tonight, Ethan?’’ You gave him a flirty smile, your chest bouncing as you readjust your bra to show off more cleavage. It was royal blue with cut-outs that showed a lot of skin under the breasts. All that was covered was a thin lace over the nipples and over the swell of the breasts. 

Ethan felt himself twitch at the sight, so fucking hard. He’d love you in sweats and a sports bra, but seeing you like this had him so hard he was convinced his pants were going to burst. He didn’t dare looking lower, embarrassed he’ll moan when he’ll see the matching panties. 

‘’Anything. I just…missed you. I’ve been jerking off to your old videos for weeks,’’ he admitted with a slight flush to his cheeks. He didn’t want to sound like he was one of those creepy guys who obsess over someone, he just really enjoyed watching you. 

You were flattered by his dedication and decided to reward him. ‘’What about I do something special for my special boy?’’ 

‘’S-special boy?’’

You hummed. 

In a way, he was your special boy. Among all of your past clients, you had come across some really hot customers, but no one ever stuck to your mind like Ethan had. He was sweet, handsome and didn’t reduce you to a material to jerk off to. He saw you as a person. 

Before him, no one had ever made you want to teleport through a screen. Most of the time, you were looking forward to the end of the private session. 

Ethan watched as you reached behind you, grabbing something. ‘’Do you like this one?’’ you asked, holding your newest dildo. ‘’I haven’t used it in a video yet, so this is an exclusive premiere.’’ 

He eyed the phallic object. It was one of those you can stick to a surface and fuck yourself on it. 

Ethan ran a hand through his hair and reached down to palm himself through his jeans to relieve the pain he began to feel with his other. He was excited to see it all inside of you, to see you fuck yourself on it and cum all over it. A rush of warmth went through his body and he held back a moan at the thought.  You had such a huge effect on him.

You set the dildo on the side. ‘’But first, let’s get you going.’’ You refolded your legs in a way that gave Ethan the perfect view of your panty-covered slit, eliciting an immediate whimper. The sheer fabric didn’t leave anything to the imagination. ‘’Are you going to let me see you? From what I remember, you’ve got a nice big cock, don’t you baby?’’ 

Clumsily, Ethan removed his polo shirt, showing off his toned biceps and chest, then he unbuttoned his jeans, shoved them to his knees, and shifted his boxers just enough to free his leaking cock as he watched you shift on your bed. You were so impatient to see it again, to watch him cum again.

‘’Mmh, so big and pretty,’’ you complimented, wishing you could wrap your fingers around it and stroke him — kiss it. 

Shaking off those thoughts, you trailed your hand down your body, and shyly, you slid your hand over your mound through the panties, teasing yourself as you held eye-contact with the camera. Ethan couldn’t hold in the groan he let out at the sight of the sheer blue fabric clinging to your lips. You were  already pretty wet, which is kind of weird since, most of the time, shows like these felt more like a chore than getting off. 

On the screen before you, Ethan’s hand was lazily gripping the base of his cock as he watched you tease yourself. He should feel shy since he was the only one fully naked, but you looked so hot in that royal blue set that he almost didn’t want you to take it off. You let out a soft moan and pressed harder into your fingers for more pressure.

You pushed your panties to the side and brought your hand to your soaking folds, coating your fingers in your own arousal. ‘’I wish it was your hand touching me,’’ you slipped, closing your eyes and imagining Ethan’s fingers on you.

His breath caught in his throat and his hand gripped his shaft just a little tighter. ‘’Me too.’’

You continued without realizing, lost in your own bubble of pleasure. ‘’I want to take your big cock all in my mouth and choke on it until you cum down my throat.’’ 

Your words had Ethan moaning, creating images in his head. He ached to tangle his fingers in your hair and drag his cock over that pretty pout of yours, smear pre-cum onto your lips before  showing his cock down your throat. You would look so pretty like that.

‘’I wan— I want you to split me open and fuck me so hard I can't remember my own name.’’

Ethan moaned again, so turned on he could cry. ‘’Yes, please.’’

The idea of him filling your pretty pussy, looking utterly fucked with those pouty lips and pretty eyes had Ethan palming his cock just a little rougher. God, he wanted nothing more than to have you — for real.

You shouldn’t be making exceptions and prolonging your private sessions, but you didn’t want to stop talking with Ethan. You wanted to keep talking to him for hours and hours. 

He sat there, in his desk chair, chest sweaty and breathing heavily as he recovered from his orgasm, thick ropes of cum still all over his chest. He should wipe himself before it dried, but his gaze was locked with yours, a soft, dazed smile on both your lips. 

You didn't look any better, sitting in your soaked sheets with your slick-covered dildo abandoned on the bed. 

After a moment of staring at each other, something you never expected to happen happened: you asked for Ethan’s number. It was a line you had promised yourself to never cross when making this account, but you didn’t want to risk not seeing him again.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh  @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore  @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti  @bloodyhw  @depthsofdespairr  @bellysbeach

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1  @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut #scream 6 imagines #scream 6

[mysisypheannightmare]

Pause

Word Count: 1812

Warnings: Patton acting very unsympathetic (gaslighting mostly), some negative thinking

--

Logan had accomplished something great today.

He showed Thomas a new video-editing software that he determined should significantly improve his content output speeds and would also run adequately on his current computer equipment. Thomas learning about the new features gave Logan a much-desired confidence boost and he wanted to smile as Thomas quietly let out "ooh"s and "aww"s at the short preview video from the software's website.

He sat across from him at the table as Thomas closed his laptop, and he explained very simply that if Thomas held back on takeout for the week and refrained from buying anything from Redbubble (as tempting as it may be) until next month, he should have more than enough saved up to purchase and download the new software. He would have to learn the new system in order to use it properly, but Logan had assured him that he would read the instructions thoroughly and stick with Thomas throughout the process so he could have it learned in no time.

Thomas had enthusiastically agreed.

Logan marked a calendar, noting to skip fast food for the week and online purchases for the month, and then circled Thomas' pay date. That was when he could buy the software, right alongside with paying his bills.

Oh! And he reminded him, don't forget, he needed to do his taxes sooner rather than later, because the refund could come in handy!

Satisfied, Logan began to sink out, only to hear someone else pop in as he did so.

He thought nothing of it as he entered his room.

He recalibrated his calendar, having successfully convinced Thomas of a way to increase productivity.

He was glad all the research and reviewing for a new video software had actually paid off, considering he'd been desperate to find some kind of new task that would benefit Thomas. And with the new predicted increase in productivity, Thomas would soon have better availability for filming, spending time with his friends, and pursuing his hobbies on the side.

Sure, Virgil won't like the adjustment period for the new changes but Logan intended to promise him he'd make that transition as smooth as possible.

And yes, being frugal for the month will be rough, especially with Roman around, but he'd already prepared room in the budget for some slip-ups just in case.

And Patton will hopefully realize that Thomas can create his own comfort foods right at home, within his budget, and it wouldn't affect anything negatively at all.

Logan had covered all his bases, made sure everyone would be accommodated within reason, and Thomas could still benefit the most out of this decision.

Logan felt accomplished. Well, perhaps he could have set up a better worksheet that allocated and compared the reviews he'd read about new and available software… but he was still satisfied with the results he received!

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he turned and walked over to it automatically.

The moment he opened the door, he was greeted by Patton's strained smile.

"Hey, Lo," he said, teeth gritted in a way that made Logan instantly uncomfortable. "Can I come in?"

In lieu of a response, Logan merely stepped aside, allowing Patton to stride on into the room and then turn around to face the other side as he shut the door gently.

He wasn't the most adept at reading others' emotions, but he could sense Patton wasn't happy at the very least. Something must have upset him.

"Is something the matter?" Logan asked, confused by Patton's behavior.

"What? No!" Patton's expression changed nearly four times, far too rapidly for Logan to interpret what any of them could be. "No, no, see, I was just...worried, about you! From the way it sounds lately, you seem to be working really hard, Logan!"

Logan wasn't sure if that was meant to be a compliment or not. The words sounded correct for one, but Patton's tone seemed bizarre. Logan frowned.

Emotions were quite difficult to understand.

Perhaps Patton was worried about his uptick in productivity?

"I assure you," Logan tried, "I have made no strain on myself. I only take on what I can handle, as we all should."

Patton's eyes had narrowed at him for a moment as they both stood in silence.

Perhaps he had misread Patton's intentions with his statement, after all.

"I'm no lie-detector, Logan, but I get the feeling that's not entirely true," Patton told him, a frown upon his face that seemed to mock him. He wasn't sure how it could do that, though.

"It is," Logan answered simply.

"Oh, really?" Patton tilted his head to the side. "Because I heard you decided to start up a new assignment of sorts."

Logan blinked. Patton seemed upset, but he wasn't sure why.

Sure, Logan had taken on researching new software and presenting the comparison results to Thomas, but it was of no concern to his allocated schedule and didn't take away from his other responsibilities.

He didn't understand why that would be upsetting. In what way could this be viewed negatively?

"I don't understand," Logan told him numbly. Was he… in trouble for something? Had he done something incorrectly and not realized it?

"Don't you?" Patton raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

So he had done something wrong.

Logan tried to think back, but he couldn't recall anything he had done recently that seemed to upset anyone. Was this really somehow about introducing Thomas to the new editing software? Why would anyone be upset about such a fruitful decision?

"I believe I may be failing to see the overall issue here, Patton," he remarked. If this was about the software, there was certainly no reason to behave like this. He could just tell Logan outright about his concerns.

Patton shook his head, still smiling in that uncomfortable way.

"That's the problem, Logan."

The room seemed colder then.

Logan tried again,

"If you would enlighten me as to what has upset you, we should be able to come to a solution. I'm sure once I understand your predicament, it'll be simple."

Reassurance often worked to cheer Patton up, after all. Perhaps this would help?

Patton laughed, but Logan hadn't made a joke. The sound reverberated a tiny bit through the room, and Patton looked him in the eye.

He wasn't smiling anymore.

"I don't need to do that for you, Logan. You're smart. Just think back and you'll figure it out."

"Then, what's the resolution here?" Logan asked, trying not to sound desperate. "What are you asking of me?"

The answer was not something he ever thought he'd hear.

"I think Thomas needs a little break from his logic for a while."

Logan had never experienced such hollowness as the kind that abruptly formed in his chest at those words.

"Wh--" he swallowed, his mouth absolutely dry. "What do you mean?"

Patton's smile returned then.

"I mean, you've been working so hard, and Thomas has, too!" He grasped his hands together in front of him. "It's about time you both had a break. I'm thinking maybe just a week or two, you know?"

Logan didn't know. He didn't understand. Thomas couldn't survive without logic, so what was Patton even suggesting?

And it wasn't like the work Logan was doing was in any way taxing or deserving of a break, especially considering how few tasks he even had left to do these days. He had been satisfied with just the chance to research something for once, and without anyone else's input.

So what was Patton even saying here? Did he not like Logan's decision?

It wasn't like he could control what Logan did or didn't do!

"I can make my own decisions, Patton," he chose to say. He tried to stay as calm as possible so Patton could tell he was serious.

Patton smiled at him again, sickeningly sweet.

"Yes, but you're not the only one making decisions, right?"

Ah. So Patton was upset because Logan hadn't consulted him and the others.

Logan tried not to sigh in disappointment. He'd been doing all the preparation for this suggestion so it would be easier on everyone and not turn into a pointless debate. It was meant to benefit everyone.

But, of course, Patton has to find some way to make it negative instead.

"I suppose I could have done some more consulting, yes," he conceded, folding his arms across his chest.

"We all make mistakes," Patton nodded, like they had only just gotten on the same page.

"That's why I want to ask you to take a break voluntarily. For your sake and for Thomas'!"

Logan blinked.

So it was Thomas who needed the break? But why hadn't Patton just said that, and why hadn't Thomas said anything?

Before he could even ask, Patton added,

"Look, I know Thomas doesn't trust you enough to tell you this kind of stuff, that's why he had me ask you instead. He needs a little vacation from his logic for a bit, okay?"

Logan grimaced. None of this made sense. Thomas had been so enthusiastic when he agreed to his plan for the new software. Patton had been the only one to say anything negative about it at all.

Had he completely misread everything? Had Thomas been placating him and he hadn't noticed?

Patton was always more in-tune with that sort of thing, so perhaps he was right about this.

"Are... you sure he doesn't want me around right now?" Logan had to ask, he had to know.

Patton's expression didn't change.

"You can still do your usual stuff from your room, right? Just do that for this week, and then we'll see where we're at, okay?"

Logan noted that he hadn't answered his question, but his suggestion implied what must have been the truth. Patton was known for trying to gloss over the negative side of things, after all. Maybe he was just trying to help…

Logan sighed.

He didn't want to agree but he didn't want to argue, either. If Thomas really didn't want his help, he should give him some space and find a more subtle way to offer his assistance.

"Okay."

Patton smiled.

"Perfect! Thank you so much," he told him, heading towards the door. "I'll take care of the rest and don't worry, I already switched the schedule back to normal."

Oh. Logan frowned. So all that effort has been for nothing, then.

Patton gave a little wave and exited, leaving Logan standing uncomfortably in the middle of his room.

He had put so much thought into that decision. Where had he gone so wrong?

And why hadn't Thomas just said what he felt? And why hadn't Patton, either?

He really needed to get better at this whole socializing thing.

He glanced around at the empty room. Well, at least he'd have the time for it.

#logan angst #logan sanders #fanfiction #unsympathetic patton #i swear i dont hate patton but i wrote this almost two years ago and just never posted it #patton isnt actually like this obviously but if you dont mind him doing some gaslighting then please enjoy #sanders sides

[alizeh-tu-badi-mushkil-hai]

Hi, beautiful people! Let's talk about something I've been feeling lately.

I haven't been feeling great for months, and this constant feeling of despair has almost destroyed many beautiful things within me and the people around me. I truly believe in the idea that hurt people hurt people.

There are days when I feel like I'm always a good friend to everyone during their difficult times. But when it comes to me, I always seem to be at the bottom of their priority list. This really made me question the love I had for them. I'm going through a phase where my life has been turned upside down. Just like everyone else, I also wanted someone to hug me and be there for me emotionally and physically. My needs felt like they were extraordinary, so I started pushing them aside and convinced myself that I'm okay with being alone again.

As a result, I've had significant fights with my friends and loved ones. That's what adulting does to you—the inconsistency of love and support from people can drive you crazy. It's been one of the major triggers in my life. Lately, this adulting has reduced me to tears on the floor. Growing up, paying bills, going to college, dealing with family, fitting into this messed-up generation of traumatized adults, and constantly contemplating career changes—it's not easy.

And yes, I did feel lonely. I felt like the ten-year-old me, crying in the school parking lot, wondering why I didn't have any friends. I felt inadequate once again, believing that my needs were too much. I also felt that love wasn't fixing me or making me a better person. It brought back so many flashbacks.

It's not that I don't have friends and people around me, but we're all caught up in our own adulting struggles, making it hard to find time for each other. And here I am, not knowing whom to blame—adulting, the people I love, or myself.

While experiencing all these emotions, I realized how empty I felt every single day, like an empty can in the dustbin. An empty vessel makes the loudest noise, yet people were fooled by my noise, thinking that I was the happiest and doing great in my life. But the truth is, I wasn't doing well emotionally and physically. With my deteriorating health, my body and mind felt like they were on battery saver mode.

I did everything I could to conceal my sadness and loneliness. I turned to drinking, painted my face, dressed up, and slept as much as I could, avoiding sitting with these unfamiliar emotions or crying myself to sleep.

It's strange that as a grown-ass adult, I can go on stage, pick up a microphone, and talk confidently, but I can't sit with my own feelings and be gentle with myself. These days, I couldn't even recognize what I was feeling, and speaking about it or sharing it with someone felt like an impossible task. Every day felt like a battlefield where I was constantly failing, and I labeled myself a fucking loser. The eternal shame of not doing well in my life pinches me so much that I still don't know how to overcome it. There were moments when I wanted to give up on my life because I wasn't excelling in my career, academics, poetry, open mic shows, or work. It brought me to an existential crisis on another level.

But something really helped me these days to cope up, and I really want to appreciate those beautiful people in my life. We don't know each other much; we are just online friends. But Shrawani used to always check on me every single day, even though she had no solutions for my problem. I have never met her, but the way she is sweet and gentle with her words makes me feel really good about myself.

My online friend has been there on nights where I felt like everything was falling apart and I was ready to give up. She believed in me when no one else did. That day, my college random DM made me feel that I have a purpose, and that purpose was to write more and more. It wasn't just an ordinary DM I received that day; it felt like a warm hug from someone who barely even knows me. She is just my college senior and nothing more, but I really appreciate her kind words.A few days back, I remember crying myself to sleep and feeling like I didn't want to wake up the next day and go for an exam. But one of my small business friend made a crochet item for me and sent it along with a heartfelt note. I didn't even remember ordering from her small business, but she also wrote the warmest note for me, emphasizing how my words have the power to move people and provide comfort.On the day I had a minor accident on the bus and experienced intense arm pain, one of my anonymous friend @mastmalangs-blog empathized with my situation and sent me virtual hugs.

It's always these random sweet gestures that fill my empty jar on my bad days. When I am in pain, I tend to push people away, but bestfriend was the one who held onto me. She didn't let me believe in the thought I always had, that "people always leave when you're hard to love during your bad days." She loved me during the most terrible days of my life, even though I spewed a lot of hate from my mouth like a venomous snake. She made me believe in the thought that "even though life gives me two choices, to either leave you or love you, I chose to love you." We both know that we don't love each other completely, and we don't hate each other completely. But at the end of the day, we both choose to love each other no matter what."

Yes, I don't know if I'm completely okay today, but I am slowly getting there. I'm learning to be gentle with myself, love myself more, and be kind to others even on my bad days. I've realized the importance of not harboring hate towards others and instead asking for help when needed. We never know when our needs will be fulfilled.

#blog #desi tumblr #desiblr #desiblogger #poetry #prose poetry #desi things #mental health ki vaat lagayi #mental health

[sleepy-achilles]

The Family of Destruction- Home

Part two of Leon's first death and yes I was listening to the song one of us from lion King whilst writing it. Bite me.

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

Mourning when your son has been on TV since birth is difficult. It's even more difficult when your son is the victim of a cult crime. The whole world thinks the house was old and faulty and just caught fire, which taker scoffed at when he saw the news as that's exactly what they said when his parents and baby brother were taken from him, only those there know the real cause.

John hasn't been the same since. Taker doesn't blame him, he held the boy he saw as a brother as he died. It also doesn't help the others using it to get a rise out of him during promos. John's angry and upset. And he's making sure everyone knows it.

Cassie, she's the only one taking it somewhat well. She's convinced herself he'll come back, claiming dad always does, so will Lee.

Taker can't bring himself to destroy the girl. She's 15, she has school and the fact she's still doing well since she began believing he'll come back taker can't do it. He'll pay for her therapy bills, hell he'll start sending her now.

Shawn? Shawn is a mess. He won't speak, he won't eat. He does his matches and then goes back to the hotel. Taker doesn't remember the last time he even looked at shawn.

Taker? Takers angry at himself. Hurt at the world. Its his fault this happened. But he never asked for this. None of them did. He's put his anger to rest by rebuilding their home. Again.

Unlike John, people don't dare to mention Leon's name to either taker or Shawn. Last time someone did they received a very hard sweet chin music.

It's been 4 months and Taker doesn't know if the pain will ever go away. Taking harder and riskier moves only helps so much.

-----

Taker leans against the ropes, keeping his head low as he catches his breathe back. He listens as a Leon chant begins. Something the fans have done a lot and taker does appreciate it, he does, it helps keep Leon alive, it just hurts him so damn much.

"Chant his name all you want! He is not one of us!" Paul calls. Takers head snaps up, his locking with the fat man on the stage. A man he hasn't seen since he brutally murdered his son. "You bastard" taker growls pushing off the rope. He stumbles slightly causing Steve to catch him. "Undertaker, do I have great news for you? The skeleton Prince is now the skeleton King!" Paul cheers. Takers eyes water at this, his head tilting slightly as his jaw clenches. He always knew Leon was different, he just didn't know he'd be cursed aswell. "No." Taker chokes. "Take a look at what I found" Paul smirks pointing to the tron. Taker lifts his gaze and his world changes.

The camera zooms onto Leon's grave as the dirt shifts and moves. A hand suddenly shoots out, startling the camera man. A bruised and bloody hand. "Help him!" Paul orders. Kanes hand appears, grabbing Leon's and pulling, digging at the dirt. Leon gasps as his face is freed. His face covered in his iconic skeleton paint. His hair blonde hair black and his streak white. His eyes keep flashing between fully white, fully purple and normal.

"Holy shit" Steve gasps. Taker can feel a panic build in him. Leon's alive? Leon's like him? "No" Taker whispers. "Taker what the fuck is going on?" Steve demands. "Hol-hold on" Taker chokes holding his hand out. Steve watches as takers eyes roll back, tears rolling down his face.

"....le......o....n?"

"...w........l....e.."

"Le...on?"

"Leon!"

Leon's eyes snap open at the sound of his father's voice. "Your alive and I don't know where to find you. Come home to us, please." Taker pleads. Leon's eyes scan the room he's tied up in. Hooded figures. No Paul. No kane. He looks down at the metal restraints holding his arms to the wall. "Hes awake" one states, except Leon instantly knows its not English, its Latin. His years of training and hearing his father and uncle speak it together have immediately translated it to English for him.

He'll thank them one day.

"Master said to leave him. The hexes will keep him weak." The other states. Leon lift his gaze to the hexes. He tilts his head slightly and watches as a invisible finger starts to slowly draw through the hexes, breaking them. The fools don't even notice. Leon? Leon can't help but smile at his new power.

He looks back down at the restraints and tests them. A sudden strength runs through him and he breaks them. The hooded figures stop and stare at him shocked. Leon just tilts his head. 'This will be child's play' he smirks before stepping forward.

--

"Shawn!" John gasps as he forces his way into shawns hotel room. Shawn doesn't move. He just stays laid in bed, staring out of the window. It's his day off, he'll spend it how he damn wants. "Shawn! It's Leon!" Shawn sits up immediately and looks at John. "Leon? What about him?" Shawn's voice is rough from lack of use. "Hes alive, They are showing it on Smackdown! We have to get to the arena now!" John tells him. "You drive." Is all Shawn says before dragging him out.

-

Leon looks at the knocked out bodies on the floor. His gaze then turns to the skeleton blade placed on display like a trophy. Leon feels his scar itch even at the thought of what that blade did. And yet he still steps towards it, as if it calls for him.

He raises his hand and closes it around the bone handle.

"Return to us leon"

His eyes glow purple. 'Return home..' he thinks to himself. He scans the area one more time before it fades to black.

-

It doesn't take them long to get to the arena. It takes Leon even less time.

Taker opens his eyes as Paul rants and raves. That's when the lights turn out. "Taker?" Steve asks. "Not me.." Taker whispers. Hope fills taker. 'Hes received my call.'

The lights turn back on and that hope quickly turns to dread. Leon is stood behind Paul and whilst taker is glad he's alive, he sure as hell doesn't look it. His nornaly Ash like tan skin is a dead pale kind. He has deep black circles around his eyes. His hair is thin and wiry. He's thin, his bones visible. But taker knows this is his boy.

Leon tilts his head and that's when taker catches the blade in Leon's boney hands. "Leon! No!" Taker yells. Paul's eyes widen and he jerks forward and turns around. Taker doesn't hesitate to climb out of the ring. He stops at the bottom of the ramp when Paul moves to the side.

Shawns arms are wrapped around Leon. Leon is suddenly not the same person he saw five seconds ago. Leon is himself again. No longer dead looking. Zombie like. The blade falls from his hands as his eyes turn normal. He leans back against his Papa and closes his eyes. "My baby" Shawn whispers as he rests his cheeks against Leon's shoulder blades. "My baby is back to me" shawn whispers, tears escaping his eyes. Leon lowers his head, bringing a hand up rest against his papas.

"Home"

Shawn opens his eyes at the rough voice. He lifts his head slightly and watches as Taker rushes up the ramp, pulling both into a hug. "Welcome home" Taker whispers against Leon's once again full head of hair. "Welcome home." Taker repeats.

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

Cassie smiles widely at her brother. "I told them you'd come back" she states. Leon just looks at her and nods. He hasn't spoken much since his return. Only the word home. "Dad's been working nonstop to rebuild the home. It looks amazing!" Cassie adds. Leon just smiles at her before turning his gaze to meet takers in the rear view mirror. Takers been keeping a close eye on him since he returned. He's not the only one who saw Leon in that state. The whole world did. The media believe wwe have just upped their special affects. Everyone at wwe have questions, but so does Taker. He doesn't know what to say to people. He doesn't even know what to ask Leon.

Shawn? Shawns completely ignoring anything that happened that day. He's just happy to have his family back.

Taker knows better than to push Shawn. Especially now.

He stops the car outside their rebuilt home. Charlie barks in the back seat. "Home" Leon whispers. All three glance at him. Taker wasn't sure how he'd react to seeing the house. But it was worth a shot. They climb out of the car, shawn last. Shawn hugs himself as he examines the house.

Flashes of it on fire shoot in his mind. But no. That's not where shawns trauma really lays. Unlike taker, he's not scared of the fire, just of those who set it. Those who use it to take the lives of others. Those who set the fire and then use a more cruel method to take a child's life.

Shawn turns his gaze too Leon who's staring at the house. Shawn steps closer and notices that Leon isn't staring, his eyes are rolled back. "Taker? Taker!" Shawn yells. Taker jerks forward and catches Leon as he falls back. Cassies eyes widen and Charlie growls, but not at them, at the woods. Taker looks towards the woods and his eyes immediately land on the shadow watching them. He looks away as a hand grabs his arm.

Taker looks to see Leon staring at him. "Leon?" Taker asks. "Sorry." Leon mutters standing on his own. "Im okay. I didn't mean to scare you lot. Its just been...a tough few months." Leon admits. "Its nice to hear you say more than home" cassie smiles. Leon nods and looks towards the woods. "He will cause no harm." Leon states. Shawn and cassie look at him confused. "Not to us. He's here to protect us. A little deal I made when I was down under." Leon adds. "I knew you'd goto hell. Hunter owes me 50" cassie states. "Of course he did." Shawn huffs. "The devil's a good guy. I understand the world differently now." Leon tells them.

Taker examines his sons. There's something different to it than a week ago when he rejoined them. "I understand." Leon tells him. "You shouldn't." Taker states. Leon just hums and looks back at the house. "I know. Now you and kane aren't alone. And now I'm home." Leon shrugs.

"Im glad your home and I'm glad we are all together again" Shawn states.

Taker glances at the shadow again as his family make their way inside. "Whats going to happen next?" He asks quietly.

#wwe #shawn michaels #the undertaker #wwf #hbtaker #undertaker x shawn michaels #shawn x undertaker #john cena #triple h #stone cold steve austin #paul bearer #kane #oc characters #leon michaels #cassidy michaels #charlie doggo #the family of destruction fics #the family of destruction

[seokstrivia]

Neon Lights | dpr live

↬ Summary: You and Dabin work in a club, that’s it, that’s the fic

or, a cute moment between two friends 

↬ Club!AU | word count: 2.4k

↬ DPR Live x Reader: friends to lovers au, slowish burn, it takes place in a club where the two of you work, confessions, one-shot, fluff, minor angst, it's just short and sweet 

↬ A/N so this is my first khh fic on this account, if you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask, I hope this was enjoyable and you all welcome my love for khh to this blog, thank you <3 

A long and tiring sigh parted your lips as you dragged your feet towards the cloakroom. Sure, getting paid meant that you could buy food and feed yourself, pay bills and stay warm through winter, but you were 100% certain that it did not mean never getting any time to rest.

You were putting your jacket away when you heard a small chuckle behind you, one that you knew all too well. A pout formed its way onto your lips while you turned around to face the one person you would do absolutely anything for.

Hong Dabin— your work best friend.

“Good to see you’re happy to be here!” His tone was chirpy, but as usual, laced with sarcasm.

It made you roll your eyes before straightening your shoulders and crossing your arms. Almost in a way to intimidate him or stare him down, but he only smiled in return and you sighed in defeat.

“Do you know how hard it was to stay awake during my last lecture today?” You moaned as you followed him to his spot at the bar. “Clarkson’s monotone voice seeps right through me, I don’t know if I can take it anymore.”

Dabin shook his head before laughing at the forlorn expression etched into your face. Sometimes he wished he could take a picture so he could keep it forever, but you would probably threaten him and force him to delete it.

He knew you well. Maybe, a little too well.

“You’re just being dramatic as usual,” he told you, earning a scoff in return. “I’ll treat you to a nice meal once we’re out of here.”

That was enough to lighten your mood and get you situated at the front door, minutes before opening, with a smile on your face.

The rest of the night was nothing more than a blur, your job was to sit at the register by the front doors making sure anyone who walked in paid before going any further into the club. But it got boring and quiet after a certain time and, to be honest, the only thing keeping you going was the thought of getting something to eat with Dabin.

Hence, as soon as you were done with work and as soon as the place was vacant, you frantically sped towards the cloakroom to find Dabin. He was already there, tugging his jacket over his shoulders before twisting around to face you with a sheepish smile.

That’s not good. You sighed.

“No food?”

He went to open his mouth to speak; probably to spout out a reason or two, but you'd beat him to it.

“It’s okay! There’s always a next time.”

The smile on your face didn’t falter, it wasn’t fake— it was genuine and that was something he loved about you.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise!” That was the last thing he said before hurrying out the door.

You watched his figure disappear with pursed lips, wondering what came up—did something happen within his family? Did his friend finally break up with his snotty girlfriend? Did his goldfish die—wait, he doesn’t have a goldfish?

A giggle parted your lips as you laughed at yourself while moving for your jacket and bag. It was finally time to go home after a long and somewhat exhausting week.

Your bed was calling your name.

>

"You know what we should do?" Your friend urged, face way too close to yours.

"Sleep forever?" You mumbled in question while moving your face away from hers.

She chuckled in return, full and hearty before playfully bumping your arm with hers, "no silly! We should go clubbing this weekend."

A grunt left your lips, you knew this was coming from the second you'd informed her of your first weekend ever off work.

"That's far from what I think we should do this weekend," you told her before moving your chair slightly away from hers.

Mina was always bursting your personal space bubble without fail.

However, you could never stay mad at her, she was your best friend since birth and had never left your side. She was also extremely supportive, albeit annoying.

"I think it'll be fun."

You turned to stare at Mina, there was a pout on her face as if it would help convince you to say yes.

Unfortunately, it did help.

"Okay, fine! We can go clubbing."

A shriek of happiness emitted from her lips in excitement, it had been a while since you two hung out on the weekend and truth be told, she missed being able to spend time outside of University with you.

But, so did you.

Okay, so maybe you wouldn't be able to sleep the whole weekend away, but at least you'll have a good time.

Plus Dabin would be tending the bar.

The rest of the week was spent talking about what to wear, what time to be ready by and what drinks to buy to get a little tipsy before going to the club.

Mina wouldn't stop talking about, 'the best weekend ever,' it was annoying sometimes, but you couldn't bring yourself to get mad at her since it had been a while since you got the weekend off.

You missed it.

"Is Dabin working tonight?" Mina asked while finishing her makeup.

You were ready half an hour ago, but you never really dressed up. Comfort was always the way to go.

"Yeah, he should be unless he calls in sick," you told her while sipping on your drink.

Mina's eyes met yours through the mirror, the smirk on her lips had you rolling your eyes as she bounced her eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner.

"Shut up," you snorted.

She shrugged her shoulders before returning to her makeup, "I didn't say anything."

A chuckle parted tour lips making her smile.

"You didn't have to."

Sometimes you thought you could read her mind, but in reality, you just knew each other that well.

***

The club was already bouncing with people, most of the crowd was already drunk but, that was a given with cheap drinks.

Mina stretched for your hand and proceeded to skillfully advance through the crowd to get to the bar. A smile made its way to her lips when she noticed who was working at the bar.

"Will you buy me a drink while I quickly go and pee?"

You rolled your eyes at her before telling her to be careful and quick.

When you turned to face the bar after watching Mina disappear towards the toilets, you were met with Dabin's big, cheesy grin.

"Hi! I'm surprised to see you here," he teased, moving closer so you could hear him better. "I thought you would be in bed sleeping."

You flicked his forehead with your finger causing him to grimace in pain, "Mina said she wanted to go out, so... very reluctantly, I said yes."

He chuckled in response, feeling sympathy and understanding that you would much rather be asleep than somewhere loud and crowded.

"Well, can I get you anything?"

You shook your head, 'no,' before glimpsing at the direction Mina was standing, "he's gonna keep her distracted for a while, so I think... I'll just hang around here."

"And keep me company?" Dabin replied as he glanced away from the two now making out. "I'm flattered."

A chuckle parted your lips as you made yourself comfortable on one of the many empty bar stools.

The majority of the night was spent talking to Dabin, catching up and talking about how Uni was going for the two of you.

It was nearing 1:30 am when Dabin finally asked you if you were ever going to get off your ass and enjoy your night.

"You think there’s a reason that I sit at the counter talking to you all night while you bartend... No, of course, there isn't- WHO’S THAT GIRL AND WHY IS SHE WINKING AT YOU?"

You were drunk.

Dabin rolled his eyes and shook his head, "that's my ex."

You gasped in return, this was your first time hearing this, "you have an ex? But you told me that you'd been single all your life."

"I told you I was single most of my life."

"What's the difference?"

Dabin shrugged his shoulders, annoyed that you thought he'd been single forever. Did you think he was ugly or something? Maybe you thought he would only ever make it as a friend.

A sigh parted his lips as he stepped away to serve others at the bar.

You stopped staring at his ex only to find Dabin was on the other side of the bar—with a frown etched on his face.

Was it something you said?

When he came back towards your end, he handed you bottled water before turning to leave again, however, you were quick to grab for his arm, a look of concern lazed across your features.

"I'm sorry if I upset you."

Dabin removed your hand from his arm, he glanced over at his ex before making eye contact with you, "it's not like you would understand. You're the one who's been single their whole life."

His words didn't hurt because they were true, and they didn't mean anything to you. You just hadn't found the right person yet, but it wasn't difficult to understand that Dabin was upset.

And that it was most likely your fault.

>

"Are you working tomorrow night?" Mina asked.

You nodded.

"Is Dabin working."

An exhalation parted your lips as you shook your head, 'no.'

"He's off this weekend," you told her.

Mina knew you were still beating yourself up over the whole ex ordeal with him, even if you couldn't pinpoint exactly what you had said that upset him.

This is why she spoke to Ian, Dabin's best friend, and asked him if they were going out clubbing Friday night. Let's just say she was over the moon when he said yes, and you were slightly freaking out when she told you.

"Wow," Mina exclaimed when she reached the bar. "So, you're bartending tonight!"

You chuckled at the excitement in her tone and nodded your head, "someone called in sick, so I'll be stuck here tonight."

"This is great!" She shouted before going off to find the friends she'd come out with.

It wasn't long before the bar was filled with people asking for drinks, it kept your mind busy and distracted from Dabin.

It kept you so distracted that you didn't even notice him sitting on the stool at the far end of the bar. The very seat you'd taken just last week.

It made you smile, but also made you feel nervous.

"Hi," you spoke softly, but loud enough for him to hear. "What can I get you?"

The scowl on his face caught you off guard, but the slur in his voice told you that he was very drunk.

"Do you think I'm ugly?"

You stared at him for a solid minute before pinching his cheek, even though he was drunk, he could still feel the pain.

"Of course I don't think you're ugly!" You argued. "What gave you that idea?"

He shrugged his shoulders with a pout on his lips and stroked his cheek, hoping the pain would quickly subside.

"You thought I'd been single my whole life."

"That's only because you'd never spoke about your ex before," you told him. "I don't think you've ever told me anything about your personal life, to be honest."

Dabin stared into your eyes with his red and tired ones.

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions," you added.

And then, he smiled.

"If you liked me more than a friend," he slurred in a serious tone. "I would have confessed my feelings by now."

His words caught you off guard but you couldn't ask him what he meant since he was gone and, well, you had a job to do.

However, his words lingered endlessly in your mind for the rest of the night. Was this his way of saying that he liked you? Dabin liked you this whole time and you didn't even know?

Your mind was reeling by the end of the night, Dabin filled your mind with endless thoughts. Wait, if he liked you, why didn't he ask you out on a date?

A sigh parted your lips as you wiped down the bar, watching groups of people huddle together as they were all ushered out of the club.

Mina hurried over to the bar before leaving, her footing was clumsy, but it made you laugh. You assumed she's forgotten the keys to the flat and that's why she was rushing over, however, you were in fact, wrong.

"Did you speak to Dabin?"

You frowned in confusion, "I did, but he was drunk so it wasn't for long."

She nodded her head in response before leaving and waving goodbye.

You rolled your eyes, watching her stumble towards the male she'd met last week. A potential boyfriend she had told you, which didn't surprise you.

It didn't take you long to finish cleaning, but you were exhausted and couldn't wait for your bed. It was nearing 3:30 am when you left the club, the area was empty and quiet as you walked towards your car.

Dabin, who you thought had gone home hours ago, was leaning against the car door. Staring at the night sky, admiring the stars, something in your stomach churned, and you felt your heart begin to beat faster the closer you got.

"Hey," you smiled, keys in hand as you unlocked the car. "You need a ride home?"

His eyes finally met yours, he appeared to have sobered up as a smile rose across his lips, "if you don't mind," he chuckled. "Honestly, I just wanted to apologise."

"For what?"

"For being an idiot," he said. "Selfish, mostly. I got upset that maybe you'd never see me as anything more than a friend."

You punched his arm causing him to wince in pain, "you're an idiot, Dabin."

He shrugged his shoulders while rubbing the pain away.

"If you'd just told me how you felt or I dont know? Asked me out on a date," you argued. "You would have found out that I feel the same."

"You like me?" He asked carefully, eyes searching yours for answers—for anything.

"Yeah, I do."

A wide smile adorned his lips before his arms found your waist and lured you in for a hug, you giggled in return while coiling your arms around his neck.

"Will you go on a date with me?" He asked as he drew back to look at you.

You rolled your eyes, "took you long enough."

#khh imagines #khh scenarios #khh #khiphop #khiphop scenarios #khiphop imagines #dpr live scenarios #dpr live imagines #dpr live #hong dabin #dream perfect regime #dpr #dpr scenarios #dpr imagines #christian yu #dpr ian

[peralta-guaranteed]

What abkut mafia!jake au

Stop giving me awesome AU ideas that I cannot write the fic for! 😭

- due to some really, really bad choices after high school (did he ever make other ones? who knows), Jake Peralta has ended up as a grunt for the Ianucci family. He doesn’t really do much - he’s mostly someone who gathers information and new areas for them to work in, because he’s good at randomly befriending people and milking them for all it’s worth. He’s done a few ‘deliveries’, too, but has never had to really get physical.

- (he was at one family meeting that turned into the ‘farewell’ of a mistrusted member and he still has nightmares about it)

- he’s never been arrested for anything and thought the police didn’t even know his name, so imagine his surprise when he’s approached by one of their higher-ups (as if he knows the rankings, psh, pigs are all the same) and subtly but definitely asked if he would be willing to work with them

- his task seems simple: bring one of their cops into the family undercover, the same way he has ‘recruited’ several bodega owners and other ‘low-skill’ workers that turned out to be useful for the family. Maybe keep an eye on the cop as well and help her out if she’s struggling

- she? oh yeah, it’s a woman. A frankly gorgeous woman, he realises when they meet up with her and some FBI dude who obviously pretends he’s not FBI, to discuss it all further. Her name is ‘Dora’, and he knows that’s a lie from the second she’s introduced, but the less he knows, probably the better. The rules are set, he gets a special cellphone number of a ‘cousin’ to contact if something goes wrong, and two weeks later Dora Perez is steadily working her way up the ranks with the Ianuccis, who are very proud of Jake for bringing in this brilliant new talent.

- He might or might not be looking out for her a little bit too much. He might or might not get involved in far more shady dealings with the Iannuccis so he can work closer with her. He might or might not be in deep, deep shit.

- ‘Dora’ is grateful for it, though, he learns every time he drives her home after a more difficult job. She used to be withdrawn and quiet with him, which he tried to equalise by cracking more and more stupid jokes and doing random silly stuff during their drives, but then one time they drive in absolute silence while she cleans blood of her hands, and he says something, he doesn’t remember what, but it’s the right thing apparently, because she starts to talk. She talks to him during every ride after, telling him about the stress and the constant guard she has to keep up and how none of her research binders prepared her for this, and at some point she tells him about nightmares and seeing death around every corner and she can’t wait for this mission to be over.

- (for her sake, he can’t wait for that either. For his sake, he wishes it would go on forever.)

- They’re sent out for a big job together once, because Jake has already become ‘connected’ to Amy in the Ianuccis’ eyes, and they both end up with blood on their hands, and some of it is hers.

- he gets out of the car after that drive home, and gets up to her tiny, fake apartment, and helps her clean the wounds (nothing too big, just cuts, because thank god that guy only had a knife before he beat it out of his hands and then beat the living daylight out of him after he injured her) with the softest fingers she’s ever felt. Then the cleaning alcohol is swapped for drinkable stuff, and they talk, and they talk about everything and nothing, about how a dead-beat dad and an absent mother make a Mafia goon, and how family pressure and a sense of constant duty make a detective who so badly wanted to say no to this assignment but couldn’t.

- “For what it’s worth, Dora, I’m glad you said yes. I mean, not that- not that I want you to do this kind of work- and I want things to be over for you soon, because- but- I’m glad it’s you.” “Amy.” “Hm?” “My name is Amy. Amy Santiago.”

- He wakes up in her bed the next morning, with her in his arms, and he kind of doesn’t regret a single thing, even as his smart-brain is screaming at him. He’s pretty sure he would’ve willingly died for her even before this night, but now, he realises... that he probably will.

- Amy (Amy, not Dora) does freak out a little more than he does when she wakes up. She can’t get involved, she says, this is a job, a dangerous one, and she has to focus on that job and getting the mafia gang and not- okay, okay, let’s not overthink this then, Jake says only to calm her down, we don’t do anything ‘involved’, we’re just... having fun. Keeping things light and breezy. Helping deal with the stress.

- and so, despite how much it hurts and how much it makes him happy at the same time, Jakey the Jew becomes Jakey, Dora’s Loverboy. It helps, he supposes, because it means the Ianuccis won’t suspect them hanging out so much, and send him along to most of her jobs now so he can watch out for her, and he gets to be with her in a way, even as she constantly reiterates ‘light and breezy’ to keep him at a distance no matter how close they get.

- it doesn’t feel very ‘light and breezy’ when they spend time together in front of the TV, though, to get their minds to relax after doing whatever the Ianuccis needed them doing. It doesn’t feel ‘light and breezy’ when they joke around in the bodega getting ice cream on a particularly hot day out doing jobs, or when she shows him around the library after meeting her ‘cousin’ there for a chat. It doesn’t feel ‘light and breezy’ at all when she sighs into his arms when he’s holding her in bed, neither of them even wanting to take the night any further than soft hands under tshirts, because all they really need at some point is the comfort of each other.

- and then one day, after a few months of this ‘light and breezy’ and ‘Dora’s Loverboy’, Jake gets invited for a ‘Talk’ by the family. With a capital T. And he’s not been that high up in the ranks at any point, and he’s not really done much for the family, but he’s not an idiot. He knows what that means. So of course he doesn’t tell Amy, writes her a short but succinct note instead that maybe ends with the L-word somewhere in it, and goes to have a Talk.

- The Ianuccis know that there is a rat, but they don’t know who. And they know that if Jakey is good for one thing, it’s information. So The Talk doesn’t end as quickly as it usually does, and the way he’d expected. It hurts a lot more, for one thing. Jake thinks of offering up some other goon or lower family member as the rat, if only to make the torture stop, but his brain is too broken in the moment to figure out a convincing story. And when the name ‘Perez’ suddenly drops into the conversation, there’s really only one other name he can still think of clearly to blame. Peralta.

- he doesn’t remember much after that - he’s pretty sure he heard gunshots, but none of them hit him, so what’s the deal with that? Everything else is pretty much a blur of pain and cold, and lots of shouting, and then warm soft hands on his face and a quiet voice saying his name amidst it all, and when he wakes up the next time he’s in a hospital bed.

- He’s in that hospital bed for two weeks to recover, and no one visits him. Not that it should be surprising - Nana is dead, his mom doesn’t know about anything he’s done since the age of 18 for a reason, and there’s no one else who in their right mind should care to visit him. So imagine his surprise when a detective shows up, introduces herself as Rosa Diaz, and explains that she’s Amy’s partner at work, but she’s not here for official business.

- “She wanted to come see you. Hell, she fought tooth and nail for it. But she had to be debriefed, stupid FBI assholes, and then it turned out two of the Ianuccis got away, so we had to find them first to make sure they don’t go after her for revenge” (well that explains the constant patrols in the hospital for him, as well) “and we had to hide her for her safety, but, Jake, she wanted to come see you. I swear.” “It’s okay.” Jake says, and it’s really not, but he’s been a brilliant liar for years now. “You can tell her... it’s okay. The job is done, and I’m, I’m glad she’s finally got it over and past her. Really. Tell her it’s okay.”

- He’s debriefed by the FBI after he gets discharged, as well. They tell him ‘good job’ and ‘thanks’ and pay him a surprisingly large amount of money and cover his hospital bills, so that’s good. They also advise that he move, not far, but far enough that any possible leftover scragglers of the family don’t remember his old place for a ‘visit’. So he moves, a few blocks only, enough to get a new favourite bodega and deli and discover that the library is actually nearby and that there’s this community college that Amy kept talking about for some reason, and if he takes a few classes to finally get a degree, it’s not about getting a proper job at some point, it’s more about not thinking about anything else. About maybe forgetting, even if it was her that basically got him where he is now.

- (it does not work)

- she knocks on his door a month later. She looks strange in her professional outfit instead of washed out jeans and a tanktop with a stupid slogan on it, but also so perfectly her. That’s Amy, he thinks, not Dora anymore. That’s Amy, and he still loves her just as much as he did when she was ‘Dora’ in his sweatpants and tshirt. Maybe more.

- “You’re a hard man to find, Peralta.” She says, and he knows that’s a lie, but she smiles with a scared look through it and he takes it for what it is - an attempt at saying anything, really, after 1 1/2 months of silence, when she’s probably got a speech all prepared in her head but needs to get there first. “That’s such a bad, cheesy movie line.” He helps, and she laughs and yeah, that’s all he needs in life. “Well we never watched any good movies, did we.” “Hey, we watched Die Hard. That’s the best movie there is.” She rolls her eyes but nods, and opens her mouth, and Jake thinks that the speech is coming now, but he has no idea what it might entail. Thank you and good bye, maybe. Good job, great work, can you sign this official statement for me so I can add it to my paperwork? possibly. “Screw light and breezy.” She says instead, and then she’s in his new apartment, which is much nicer and cleaner than the old place was even after she worked her magic on it, and she’s kissing him, and he’s never, ever letting her out.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #headcanon? writing? I dunno anymore #Mafia AU

[groovyzombiellama]

The Golden/Stylish Trio

Title: The Golden/Stylish Trio

Requested? Yes.

Plot: You are an actress and shoot a project with Alex and Bill and the two of them have a crush on you.

Word count: 1617

—***—

Ever since you were a child, you knew that you wanted to be an actress, and it didn’t matter how many people told you that you shouldn’t dream so high and that you were gonna fail, that just made you want to work more just to prove them wrong. You were constantly told that you wouldn’t have enough work, and that being an actress is stressful and difficult. Of course you knew that, in their own way every job is difficult, but you didn’t mind it because you knew that you would have difficult moments, but you were ready for whatever that world had to throw at you, because at least  that way, you would be doing something you love. You had the support of your immediate family, like your parents in the first place, and so you decided to take a chance and start your path towards making your dreams come true.

At first you had it quite difficult, not really being what the casting agent was looking for, both in terms of character and in your lack of experience. You had sleepless nights thinking about how you were supposed to gather experience when nobody wanted to give you a chance to gain any of it. And you expected this, so it wasn’t a surprise to you, and it just motivated you to do better and go to some classes and stuff, but that doesn’t mean getting rejected so many times didn’t hurt you. There were times where you would feel like the people who told you that you wouldn’t be able to make it were right and that you should just give up and go back home. Your family was alright with you coming back and going to college for something else, but just like your friends, they believed that you could do it and that every beginning is hard, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t succeed. And indeed, with patience, it started happening, you started getting cast.

Of course, you wouldn’t be able to get a lead role right off the bat, but you were getting work as eather a background character, or a very minor character that maybe had one or two lines. And even though it was something small and didn’t mean a lot of camera time, you were still extatic and extremly grateful and happy to even be getting any work at all. Your portfolio was growing, your list of work experience was becoming longer and longer, and a lot of casting agents saw your passion and dedication to acting, to the point where you even got cast as a supporting character in a movie, the so called “best friend trope”, and your lines consisted of pep talks and you were honestly just there to lift up the lead character. But it was the longest time you had spent in front of the camera so far and the most speaking lines you had gotten, so to say you were grateful and excited would be understatements.

You had no idea where all of this was gonna take you, but you were so proud of yourself for not giving up on your dreams. You even sent tickets for that movie to your cousins who didn’t believe you could make it and some of the people who bullied you and said you would never amount to nothing. It wasn’t to spite them, not too much anyway, because you never were a person to hold a grudge or feel good if others are feeling down. You just wanted to tell them that hard work will always pay off and that hard work can beat talent if talent doesn’t work hard. You were getting recognized and it was blowing your mind to be walking down the street and hear people talking about you as you pass them, guessing if you were the girl they had seen in that movie. And it made you smile every time. Eventually you ended up getting an e-mail that changed your life in a drastic way. A huge gig, bigger than any you have had before, with actors that you admired.

You had known Bill Skarsgård from his role as Roman Godfrey in Hemlock Groove, and as the iconic clown, Pennywise, in the most recent IT movies. And when your agent told you that he was gonna be one of your costars, you had to sit down, as your legs felt like they were gonna give out. He always seemed like a truly pleasant person to be around and an actor who really cares about the craft. And his good looks were just a bonus to a very amazing person. And that was the case for your other costar who once again gave you that feeling that you were gonna collapse if you keep standing. The Ivar the Boneless from Vikings, Victor from Outsiders, Alex Høgh Andersen. Alex always had the appeal as a literal ray of sunshine to you and it made your head feel dizzy to be working with them at all, and even when you met them, you couldn’t believe it was true.

Both Bill and Alex found you adorable as you tried not to fangirl around them, and be your cool self, or at least what you thought was cool. Bill had known about you as he had watched one of the movies you were in and he admired the way you put everything you had into your character, so he already knew some things about you, but even with that, you had managed to amaze him beyong belief. To Alex. meeting you was completely new territory, but he was enjoying every second of it, seeing the way every part of you contained the character you were supposed to potray. Even your eyes would show the emotion your character was supposed to be feeling that both men were dangerously close to apologising to you the moment they looked into your eyes as you were filming a scene where you were supposed to have a disagreement or fight.

Both Alex and Bill felt like they were learning a lot from you, as much as you were learning from them. And your vibrant personality, combined with that smile of yours were enough for them to develp crushes on you. It amazed them that neither one of them was able to say anything to you, that when it came to you, they would feel nervous or get tongue tied. When the two of them were talking and you came up, the shock on both of their faces, wide eyed expressions were almost comical as they realised the second they started talking about you that they had crushes on you. They didn’t want to make this a rivalry between them and try to win you over from one or the other. They were gonna leave the choice to you if you ever developped feelings for one of them and the other was gonna support you both. But that didn’t stop them from admiring you constantly and gushing about you in interviews and to each other.

As more time passed, the more the three of you started getting closer, so much so that they put up with the silly nicknames that you gave them and even though Billy and Lexie weren’t their favorite, and they honestly prefered some of your more creative nicknames, or standard “love” or “hun” that you loved calling people who were important to you, they cared about you enough to accept you just the way you were, which meant the world to you. Bill’s brother Gustaf was really glad that his costar from Vikings was friends with his brother, because the cast of the show had become like his second family in a way, and now you were a very dear friend to all of them.

Every interview that you did with these boys was a blast, you would always have fun and if they even sensed that you were feeling uncomfortable with a question or something, the both of them would create a diversion, as you woke up in them the feeling to be protective over you, but not too much that you feel suffocated, but just enough for people to know that you were not someone to mess with, both because of you being a strong and independent woman, and also because you had the two of them who had your back as much you had theirs. You three were truly a great trio, and your friendship was one that you were sure was for the books and that it was gonna last.

Regardless of the fact that their crushes were growing by the day and often times they had to stop themselves from spending entire interviews talking about you, they never forced you into anything, or tried to convince you that one of them was better for you than the other. And their biggest pet peeve was when you didn’t believe in yourself and always claimed that “people were just too kind to you” whenever someone complimented you, because they just wanted you to know that to them you were absolutely amazing and to so many people who were fans of you. But they appreciated that you were kinda using that to keep your humble nature, worried that if you started giving yourself that much credit, you would become vain and too self absorbed. They were thankful that they met you and hoped your friendship lasted a long time, even if nothing more developped from it. You were the Golden Trio, named by the entertainement industry, or the Stylish Trio as fans started calling you after Alex’s post, and you were happy with it.

---***---

SURPRISE @walkxthexmoon !! You wanted either one of aus that I do, but you were always sweet to me and kind, that you get all of it, written, gif and social media au :D <3 I truly hope you like it :)

I appreciate all of you guys and thank you all for your follows, likes, reblogs, I’ll never be able to thank you all enough. Every time I get an e-mail telling me someone followed me, it makes my entire week better and keeps me motivated! So thank you to all of you, I love you all so much, and if people are nice to me I do my damnest to be 10x nicer, because you deserve it back, so this fic took a lot longer to make than I thought, and hopefully it’s a good one and you guys like it, and just once again, I appreaciate all of you <3

#alex høgh andersen #alex hoegh andersen #alex hogh andersen #alex hogh imagine #alex hogh x reader #alex hogh andersen imagine #alex hogh andersen x reader #alex hogh andersen x bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard #bill skasgård #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgard au #alex hogh andersen au #alexhøghandersen

[percydarling]

Weasley Family relationships: George and Perce

GEORGE

George Weasley doesn't understand his twin's adoration with Perfect Percy.

He doesn't like Percy. Percy is boring.

Fred tells him that Percy was funny and read them books but George doesn't remember anything.

He thinks Fred made it up to put Percy in a better light.

George does remember Percy calling Fred Freddie. So George calls him Freddie too.

George just doesn't have a good relationship with Percy. He just doesn't.

Percy tries though. He tries with sweets and toys and books and a lot of things. But if you bribe someone to like you with food and things is the relationship even real?

George observes. He observes Percy because Percy is interesting. He knows all of Percy's moods at this point.

He observes Percy because Percy is unexpected. Percy can change moods in minutes.

It's easier to go unnoticed when you're the quieter twin.

People forget that besides pranks George can have other interests.

He was painting Mum when Percy entered his room. The whole family had gone out and Percy and him were home alone.

"That's beautiful George. How long have you painting it?"

"About an hour."

"She really looks like Mum."

And he knows that Percy is genuine when he says that because he knows that Percy actually examines work before complimenting it.

That was the first time George accepted that Percy is his brother.

"You should sell your work."

"What?"

George is shocked. He just didn't realise that he could get money for his work.

"Yes. You can sell your work to people in the village and they can pay Muggle money which we can convert into galleons!"

Percy even started writing in his book about the plan and doing calculations.

George didn't even know what to say. If it were Bill or Charlie they would have said 'great job' and asked him to make portraits of them but Percy just went to business.

George wishes that Percy had been in Slytherin so he could have the courage to do so too.

And he does make money. Percy is a good salesmen. They manage to sell 18 of his paintings and make money.

George wants Percy to keep half but Percy refuses.

"They're your paintings. You put in the time and effort. You keep the money and keep it for yourself."

When Percy tells him to keep it for yourself he knows what Percy implies. Be selfish. Don't let the family take it.

That's the problem with the Weasley family isn't it? We give too much and receive nothing in return. Not freedom, not hope just love which gets us nowhere.

George can't forget Percy's words. He can't stop thinking about them. He's torn up about giving Mum the money or keeping it for himself.

He decides the latter option. He feels guilty but he knows it's the right option.

He doesn't even tell Fred.

Noone knows about the paintings besides Percy and he knows Percy is discrete.

George doesn't talk to Percy much after that but he does think that the pranks they play on Percy is too much sometimes.

(But Fred's the leader and George follows even though Fred is confused half the time.)

When Percy leaves, George isn't shocked. He saw it coming a mile away.

The way they treat him and the accusation that he's a spy, it seems to pile up on a person until they can't take ot anymore and leave.

George does miss Percy even if they weren't the best of brothers.

And with the war, Percy in the Ministry, Percy's at more risk than all of them. George understands this but he's not Percy's parents and Percy's old enough to comprehend right from wrong.

(George doesn't realise that even his older brother needs guidance at time)

George thinks that Mum is the worst at times always wailing about Percy but it's Fred whose the worst at hiding his emotions.

George can't tell whether Fred misses or hates Percy. His mood keeps changing rapidly but George was suprised when Fred threw food at Percy.

He didn't want to follow but they are 'twins' so he did it and to his horror so did Ginny which made it a 100 times worse.

George wouldn't blame Percy if he never came back.

But

He did.

He came back to fight and Fred was the first one to hug hin back.

He left Fred in Percy's capable hands and followed Charlie.

Percy would keep Fred safe. He always has.

Well turns out George is wrong.

OF COURSE HE IS.

It's Percy. Percy can never do anything right in his stupid pathetic life.

He punches Percy in the face. Percy deserves it.

He killed Fred.

And his family members can try to reassure him and convince him all he want but he and Percy both know that Percy did indeed kill Fred.

He doesn't like that Percy's staying with them. But Mum lost one son she can't lose another so George keeps his mouth shut.

He doesn't eat for the first few days. He can't.

His twin is dead.

For the firs time in his life, Geirge wants the word twin back.

It's difficult for everyone. He knows that but they don't get it.

Fred was always there. Like always and without him George feels like a shadow.

They all try to get him to eat. They make his favorite dishes.

(Sadly, they're all Fred's favourite dishes and George has to choke back a sob everytime)

He doesn't talk to Percy much. He expected Percy to come and get him to eat but Percy doesn't.

Instead he slids paint supplies under the door.

It's so random and spontaneous George wants to laugh.

Percy wants him to paint?

George does paint. He paints Fred because he has to. He paints Fred to keep his memory alive.

He paints Fred because he has to remind himself he is not Fred.

He looks like Fred but he isn't. He isn't. He isn't.

(George doesn't understand why it's so difficult to accept that.)

It's a long time before George realises It's because his whole life he has always been second.

It's always "FredandGeorge" or the twins. It's never been only George.

He doesn't know who he is.

Percy does. Percy knows he's not Fred.

So when it's Percy's turn to get him food. He lets him in.

"You let me in?!"

"Ya, Perce"

After that Percy's quiet. When George turns around he sees Percy staring at Fred's portrait.

"It's marvelous. Really great portrait of him!"

"Really? How do you know its Fred and not me?"

"Well if you see Fre..Fred has more freckles on the right side of his face as compared to yours and your eyebrows are a bit thicker and ....."

Percy gets everything right. George has never felt closer to his brother than right now.

He talks to Percy everyday a bit more. It helps. It helps George to figure out who he is.

Percy even arranges Fred's funeral.

A week before the funeral a question occurs in his head.

"Is he still a twin if his twin is dead?"

He asks his family. They say yes without thinking. They say yes to make him feel better. Ginny and Mum just give him a hug instead of answering.

He doesn't want their comfort. He just wants an explanation why yes.

So he asks Percy the one person who actually would answer him the why.

"Percy am I still a twin if my twin is dead?"

Percy thinks. He doesn't say yes immediately.

George knows it's a stupid question but he asks it anyway because he needs it to be answered.

"Yes you are because being a twin doesn't end when your twin is dead. You were born on the same day. That's what makes you twins. Not death. You were born together. You are both identical. Your twin's death doesn't change your status."

George needed to hear it.

Percy was the only one who understood how George is George. So he asks Percy to give the eulogy and Percy accepts.

When it's time, Percy delivers the best speech and George hangs on every last word and when Percy does the memories in the sky thing,

George forgives Percy.

That's when, after hearing the regret and sorrow in Percy's voice does George forgive him because Percy didn't kill Fred. The war did.

After the funeral he makes more of an effort and so does Percy.

Percy helps him reopen Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The grand reopening is a success and attracts a lot of customers.

George talks to Percy everyday. It feels good to catch up with his older brother and renew their relationship.

Percy asks him to teach him to paint and that's how Percy becomes amazing at painting landscapes while George paints portraits.

That's also how they start painting classes on weekends and teach children their art.

Percy reconciles him with Angie. Everytime he has a fight with Angie, he comes to Percy who makes him straight and he apologises to Angie immediately.

(Of course sometimes it's the other way round and Angie has to apologise, that's when he spends the night with Percy.)

He asks Percy to be his best man. He was going to ask Lee but he wants his favourite brother there besides him.

Percy gives a great speech. Someone should give him a goddamn award.

When George meets Audrey, he knows Percy loves her because he never brings girls home unless he's sure and Audrey's likeable.

He's Percy's best man at his wedding and wasn't that a night to remember!

When the second of May comes around, he and Percy sit besides Fred's gravestone early in the morning before their family come around.

For a while George can feel Fred's presence and Percy makes a joke on Middle Kids club which makes George laugh cause it's true.

When he meets Molly the second and Lil Lucy Goosy, he just stares at them.

They're twins.

THEY'RE TWINS.

George doesn't know whether to laigh or cry because they're twins and they're alive, both of them together and it pains George so much..

But Percy looks so anxious at his response and nervous and scared of being a father that George just laughs because they're alive together and that's what matters.

"They're wonderful Percy. They're just so beautiful."

"Congratulations you are officialy their godfather."

"WHAT?!"

George and Percy love each other very much and would give their life for one another.

#percy weasley centric #percy weasley #george weasley #angsty #weasley brother relationship

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

can you do a teen losers club x reader on how they comfort the reader during a depressive stage

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I hope you still enjoy! I just want to stress that all the headcanons I wrote here are based on my own experiences with depression. I know everyone experiences this differently, so please know I’m not trying to invalided anyone!

Warning: mentions of depression

- It’s difficult to predict when a depressive episode of yours will be occurring

- There are no outward signs, as you are very good at pretending everything is fine.

- Inwards though, your mood starts the deteriorating and the smile you have to conjure up your face every time you hang out deters the closer you get to an actual depressive episode.

- The only sign that is noticeable to the losers, is that you’re a lot more irritable.

- That’s a hard symptom to spot though, because their group is so diverse and it happens from time to time that someone does something that rubs the other the wrong way.

- You’re always very patient with everyone, even Richie’s overachieving and at times insensitive jokes, but right before an episode, you’ll at best ignore them, and at worst beep him.

- But again, sometimes little fights break out among the group, so it’s not that unusual

- They’ll know that a depressive episode has started when you cancel without a reason.

- You would never pass an opportunity to bike around town with your friends otherwise, but during the first few days of your depressive episode (when you feel at your lowest because of the impending days of hell waiting for you), you prefer to be by yourself.

- The only way you communicate is by calling them to cancel the plans, and then you crawl back in your bed.

- The losers at first leave you too (they found out from experience that you hate to be coddled and Gavin the vicinity of other people

- Of course this saddens the losers, because they want nothing more but to go over to your place and comfort you to the best of their abilities, but they understand you need some alone time.

- They do call regularly. They can’t stop themselves from at least doing that.

- After about two days, they’ll start hanging out at your house.

- Most of the time they’ll talk amongst each other or watch a movie while they cuddle with you.

- Never forcing you to talk of anything, because they respect that you can’t conjure up enough energy to do that.

- Side note; the losers all have various experiences with depression.

- Some may not have (had) it, but they have seen someone near them that was suffering from it.

- So they try to encourage you through what they believe is the best option, and how they would have liked to be cheered up.

- I think Eddie would be a bit of a hard ass.

- Not that he’s unsympathetic to what you’re dealing with, but he’s a health freak, and he read that excercing can help with overcoming a depressive episode.

- Which is true, but going to school and getting you work done is hard enough without getting yourself out of bed and into work out gear.

- So he really tries to convince you to do yoga with him, as your form of sport. (It leads to Richie’s big gay crises, and it draws a laugh out of you for the very first time since you have been feeling dragged down)

- Sometimes you can persuade yourself into getting up (it really depends on the day) and then you feel elated that you managed to do something, but others days you refuse to move, and Eddie’s insistence only leads to insecurity and you labeling yourself as Lazy.

- But you know Eddie means no harm by it, so you appreciate his efforts.

- Bev does things a little different.

- She’s very intuitive to people’s mood, so when she comes up with a plan to help you, and she sees you’re not up for it, she’ll postpone.

- She manipulates your kindness and generosity towards others and turns it around to you.

- Showering and keeping yourself clean, though it’s advice to do in order to get better, can be so hard to do, so she instead asks if you can help her with for example: braiding her hair

- No matter how bad you feel, you’ll always be there for your friends, so you say yes.

- You’ll braid her hair or paint her nails, or give your opinion about a clothing item, and in turn, Bev will do the same for you.

- It’s not much, but, having your hair combed, or changing clothes sometimes can make a world of difference.

- Richie and Stan will aid with doing every day chores, like homework or doing the dishes or something.

- Of course Richie also cracks jokes and tries his impression on you to make you laugh, but he’s also really smart and can do his homework without ever paying attention in class.

- So he and Stan take some of the workload of off you, so you can focus primarily on your mental health.

- Ben helps by talking to you. You’re not always up for a talk, because it’s hard to formulate the mess in your head, but if you do, Ben is always the person to go to.

- He won’t try to find a solution, but he’ll just be there to listen to you

- Mike bakes a lot of goodies for you to munch on.

- You’re supposed to eat healthy food, but Mike chooses baked goods that are both healthy and tasty, and sometimes a little indulgent.

- Freshman year in high school Mike got a dog from his grandfather, and he’ll take him with him to your house from time to time, so you can snuggle with the cute little thing.

- Finally, Bill writes you stories about going on far away travels, with you and the losers as the main characters.

- You like to read them because they help you escape your current situation, and also because the stories are a kind of promise, that your feelings will end and that one day you’ll be able to go anywhere you want with all your friends by your side.

- It takes a while, but eventually the efforts of the losers come to bloom.

- You appreciate everything the losers do for you, and you hope they know that you would do the same thing for them.

#richie tozier x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #bill denbrough x reader #stanley uris x reader #ben hanscom x reader #beverly march x reader #mike hanlon x reader #my writing #the losers club imagines #it imagines

[megthemewlingquim]

Rest

Summary: The holidays exhaust you, mentally and physically. When you go to get up for a yet another early shift at work, Loki keeps you in bed via cuddle lock.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: detailed descriptions of what retail workers go through when they have bad days at work taken from personal experience and the experience of the person for which I am writing this, crying, anxiety, feelings of loneliness, hurt/comfort.

A/N: This is a late Christmas present for @ragnarachael, to cheer her up after what has been (for her) a very hard and exhausting Christmas season. Anyone else who needs this can use it as a way to help themselves. I just wanted to cheer up a friend, so that she knows that she is in fact wonderful and good enough, even when bad days arise.

You wake up the morning after Christmas Day, and all you want to do is go back to sleep. The alarm clock reads 6:45 A.M, and it yells at you. It also blinds you, interrupting the darkness behind your eyelids with white light.

WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE—

You click the alarm off with a muffled groan. You struggle to move, your eyes betraying you and getting used to the darkness yet again. Your body betrays you as well, slowly getting used to the warmth the covers provide you. Sleep seems quite inviting. Those sleeps where you wake up earlier than you want, but then go back to sleep to get those last few hours in? Heavenly.

Also lovely when you have someone beside you to trap you in his arms as if to say, “Don’t go. It’s not time yet, and I still want you here.”

Sometimes, he says that literally.

Loki hates it when you have to get up early. He hates having the feeling of your body beside him be taken away by your job. Sometimes, your schedule is quite nice, with weekends off and shorter shifts on more days during the week to leave you with time for leisure. When it isn’t like that it’s horrible, with multiple days during the week but with longer shifts, and the weekends taken up as the cherry on top. In addition, sometimes you have to get up early. Very early. Like, being there when the store you work at opens to no one early. 

This time, it is a Saturday, and you have to get up early. The day after Christmas.

You had had a two-day break with Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Before Christmas Eve you had worked a couple of days in a row.

The holidays completely exhaust you. Christmas especially is probably the worst season to be a retail worker. You’re stuck at the register for your entire shift, waiting for the unhappy customers who, unfortunately, take their confusion and dissatisfaction on you, the person who has no control over what you sell, what you have sold out of, and your prices. Of course, this happens year-round, but due to the hectic nature of the Christmas shopping season, the general unhappiness of the human race is revealed even more.

Every day, your feet ache from standing for hours on end, and every day you go in, you dread working with people who don’t care about you and working for people who don’t appreciate you. On very special days, you are practically yelled at, and then you have to go into the bathroom on your break to cry your way out of your anxiety.

The only good thing about working today will probably be how the Christmas season is drawing to a close. This means less busy days, less busy people, fewer moments with your managers that leave you shaky and terrified.

With that thought doing a little bit to motivate you, you move to get out of bed.

However, you’re held back. Loki’s arms are around you before you can tell, and their grip from behind is warm and comforting - not at all helping you to get out of bed.

“Stay,” is what he pleads. Rather than hearing a groggy voice filled with annoyance at your movements, you hear one that is softer, quieter, “Stay here, please.”

“Loki,” you protest, fighting sleepily against his grip, “I have - I have to get ready, you know that. I—”

“No, you don’t,” he says, waking up fully now. His eyes open and, upon seeing you fidgeting against him, he lets go of you only slightly. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Why?” you ask, grateful that he has allowed you to turn around and look at him. You are not mad, just a little annoyed, but your tired brain is unable to let that show. “I’ll be home right afterward.”

He sighs, breathing in and out deeply through his nose. “Sweetheart, you’ve been working all week. You try so hard to mask what’s bothering you, but I know you, and I know how you are with these things. You’re exhausted, you fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillows, and every day you have to go into that dreaded workplace, I see you as if you have a weight on your shoulders. I can tell, you dread working there with those people. You hate the schedules, you hate how they treat you. You hate the time spent away from home, from me.  So, why do you keep going when it’s in your better interest to stay?”

“Money pays the bills,” you say with a sigh of your own.

“Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m a prince, and I was once a king. We’re married. If you take me up on one of my many offers, you’ll never have to work again.”

“Stop that,” you say. “Please. I appreciate it, but I can’t depend on you for that. I’ll feel bad about it.”

“You shouldn’t,” Loki says. “I want to do that for you.”

“I am aware, but I don’t want that for either of us. I’d rather play a part in our living.” You move to get up again, but that’s when Loki moves as well, taking you in his arms for the second time.

“Loki!” you whisper angrily, “I have to—”

“No,” he says, a little more stern now. “You do not have to go in today.”

“Why is that?” you huff.

“Because you need to rest.”

“Loki, please let me go, I need to go. I’m supposed to be in the shower already, that’s why I woke up so early.”

“If you will not accept my offer for our future, at least accept this. Accept the rest you obviously need and deserve.”

You have a hard time being mad at him. Yes, you’re annoyed but mad? Never. You sigh. “Loki. I have to work.”

“Do you want to?” he asks.

“No,” you say without hesitation. “Of course I don’t. But I know I have to. I’ll get in trouble if I don’t go.”

“So there are a lot of reasons you need to go, and those are all valid reasons, but you’re not thinking of one thing: your health.”

“I feel fine.”

“Do not try to lie to me. You’re not ‘fine’, as much as you’d like to convince both of us that you are. As I said before, you’re exhausted, and you’re mentally drained whenever you go. You often come home in tears, but you practically fall asleep as soon as we get to bed, so I cannot comfort you. How I wish that you would see this… I want to help you, to give you strength and rest and love, all things you deserve.”

“Loki—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.”

All this time, Loki’s voice continues to remain gentle. It’s nice to see that despite your persistence, he is not mad at you.

You squirm, trying to get out of his arms. At this point you might even have to call into work, saying you’ll be late. Sorry, my husband wouldn’t let me out of bed. What kind of excuse is that?

His grip holds. “Stay,” he whispers, and suddenly you feel tears rising in your eyes.

You haven’t realized, all this time during the holidays, that you’ve missed him. You’ve missed your husband so much, but seeing him has been hard. With your long hours and your exhaustion and your anxiety, it has been extremely difficult to see Loki and to spend any time with him. He doesn’t seem concerned about this himself, not too much, but he only seems concerned about you, and that makes you feel even worse.

But still, he misses you, too.

“No,” you whisper back.

“Stay...”

Your eyes shut and the tears pour down. “No!”

“Stay here. Stay here with me.”

You stop struggling, completely breaking down and crying fully into your pillow. He lets you go, realizing how you are. Then, with a small, sad sigh, he turns you around to face him. You’re practically limp, motionless as you sob.

“Sweetheart...” he croons, his voice low and soft and everything you’ve been missing. “Sweetheart, c’mere...”

You cling to him, relishing in his touch as he draws you to him for the first time in what seems like years. Your breathing is choppy, rough, and you cannot seem to get yourself calmed down. It’s as if everything you’ve shut out from your mind these past few weeks has been completely unlocked and has come crashing down onto you.

All the while, Loki keeps you close, shushing you gently and rubbing your back in circles. He calls you the prettiest words and praises you as you cry:

“I know, my love, I know. I’ll take care of you. Of everything.

“That’s it, sweetness, let it all out for me.

“This is just one simple thing you need: a good, long rest and some time with someone who loves you. Just rest here with me. I have you here, and I’m not letting go of you.”

As you cry, you notice your exhaustion taking hold of you again. Though it doesn’t seem possible, the covers seem more warm and even more inviting, and the darkness seems to make your eyes even more heavy.

Loki’s hands keep themselves on the back of your head and on your back, all warm and strong and still infinitely tender. He kisses your cheeks and your forehead, all the while continuing to comfort you in the best way he knows how.

“I love you. I love you so much and it breaks my heart to see you this way. You deserve so much... and you haven’t been accepting anything for yourself. You need to do that, beloved.

“But don’t... don’t worry. My love, I’m here. Here to help you. For now, let’s stay here. Stay here together. You need this, and you know it. I love you so much, my dearest. I love you with all my heart.”

#loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki of asgard #loki #loki friggason #marvel #mcu #mcu loki #loki odinson x reader

[scribbledghost]

Chasing Monsters - Part 1

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x Reader (no y/n, she/her pronouns used). Cryptid Hunter AU.

Rating: G

Word Count: 3,547

Warnings: third person POV, allusions to sexual elements but nothing explicit

Note: Alright, here’s the first part of the Ezra Cryptid Hunter AU fic inspired by THIS ship I got from @no-droids-on-sunday a while back! I loved the idea so so much, so I just had to give it a go and write it!

Life was not simple for a drifter, despite copious opinions otherwise. Much less one who was hunting a creature most of the populace was convinced did not exist.

Ezra contemplated his own existence as he drove down another desolate stretch of road, having turned off another lengthy highway hours before. His travels had sent him crisscrossing along the southern part of the United States map, as well as down into Central and South America. Each stop along the way serving to further his knowledge, and each stop turning up an equal amount of nothing in the way of tangible evidence.

For decades, he’d been looking for the elusive creature El Chupacabra. The Goat-Sucker, by another name. He knew it existed. He knew it prowled out in the deserts at night, searching for unsuspecting livestock left out of their housings overnight.

He knew this. He just needed to prove it.

But proving seemed to be much, much more difficult than simply knowing.

As he pulled into a small diner off to the side of the road, he carefully took stock of his funds. He’d have to settle for something cheap. Perhaps ask around the area to see if anyone could offer him some part-time or seasonal work before he made his way across the map once more. But that line of thought could be better constructed once he had a warm meal.

Ezra seated himself near the door, in a small booth that likely hadn’t been replaced since the building was created decades before. The stained menu offered much of the same comfort foods he was used to in small diners such as this, and he was relieved to find the prices matched the opulence (or lack thereof) of the place.

His waitress took his order quickly, tending to his needs with a practiced ease. As he ate, he considered another option for his stop. It was a long shot, but perhaps he could find some more useful information around the area as well.

“I beg your pardon, miss,” Ezra asked, “But I was a wondering if you could provide me with some information.”

“I can certainly try,” the young woman responded, stopping at his table.

“I was curious as to if you had anyone in town who would have information on the more... strange things in existence,” he began, “someone that people go to should odd happenings begin occurring nearby?”

“Oh yes, as a matter of fact, there is,” the waitress told him, “Just down the way, past the abandoned school building, there’s a turn off onto a dirt road. You follow that, and it’ll take you to a small house in the woods. The woman who lives there knows all sorts of things about the paranormal and monsters. That sort of thing. She’s a strange woman, but people visit her all the time for advice, and she’s very kind. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to share what she knows.”

Ezra thanked her with a nod, finished paying his bill, then got back into his car. As he drove, he found himself slightly skeptical of the testimony; he’d been to see enough “strange folk” in his years to know that most of them only had the same amount of knowledge as he did. But it was better than nothing, and he was in sore need of someone to properly discuss his mission with. Perhaps this “strange woman” would understand.

As he pulled onto the dirt road the waitress had instructed him to look for, he began to see her home peeking out through the trees. The closer he got, the more it appeared that he had found another dime-a-dozen “sorceress”. Her home was average-looking, nestled out of the way among the foliage. On her porch were several plants, complete with a handful of wind chimes and witches ladders. He wondered with a slight laugh to himself if he would walk in and find a crystal ball staring back at him.

As he parked, he walked slowly up to the door and knocked quickly, prompting a “come in” from the other side. He opened the door to find two young women sitting at a table, one holding out a jar to the other.

“Here,” the woman said, “it contains some materials that may help you. The paper has a sigil on it, one for protection and peace. Draw it with intention at any entrance or wherever you need to feel safe. There’s also a blend of incense as well, and instructions on how to cleanse using smoke if you desire or do so. Otherwise, keep a horseshoe above your door, or garlic by your window.”

She went on to further explain to the other woman how to speak to the spirits apparently manifesting in her home. Ezra took careful stock of the home, noting how it was similar to other odd dwellings that he’d been in before, yet there were some distinctly unique qualities. Most of the furniture appeared vintage, even antique. The shelves were lined with various books, jars, and other oddities, while streams of gentle sunlight cascaded in and onto the carpet beneath him. In some ways, the home was dimly-lit, and yet in others, it appeared to be absolutely vibrant.

Perhaps Ezra’s first conceptions had been misplaced.

He watched the pair for a bit longer, listening to the woman give her final instructions. Her customer nodded gratefully before walking past Ezra and taking her leave.

“And how may I help you?” The other woman asked pleasantly, “I haven’t seen your face around here before.”

“I’m simply a drifter,” Ezra replied, “I’m just passing through.”

“Fair enough,” she replied, “So what are you needing from me?”

“I was told you may have information,” he asked.

“That depends,” the woman replied, “what kind of information are you requesting?”

“I need to know about a creature called the Chupacabra,” he said, “I’ve been chasing it for years, but haven’t been able to get conclusive evidence as to its existence. But I know its real.”

“Of course it is,” the woman said, “but you won’t find it by conventional means.”

“As I’m well aware,” Ezra replied, “I’ve spent decades up and down the American Southwest, Mexico, and Puerto Rico, but have found nothing.”

“There are other places you could try, you know,” she responded, gaining a raised eyebrow from him.

“What do you mean?” He asked, “Those are the only places the Chupacabra is known to wander.”

“Mm, not quite,” the odd woman hummed to him, walking over to a bookcase and pulling from it a tome that looked to be at least a handful of decades older than himself. Ezra tilted his head, equal parts intrigued at what information she could have and offended that she appeared to insult his experiences.

“Here,” she said, opening the book and presenting it to him, “Since the first reports in Puerto Rico in the mid-90’s, other sightings have been made as far north as Maine in the United States, not to mention a handful of other countries like Chile, the Philippines, and even Russia. Of course, the most common reports come from the southwestern U.S. and Mexico, but others can be found in other regions.”

Ezra nodded slowly, his eyes skimming along the book as he took in claims and information that he’d never seen before. In all his years of research, all his countless hours of hunting and chasing, how had he missed this much?

“Where did you get this?” He asked, holding the book up to her, “I’ve been studying the Chupacabra for decades, yet I’ve never been privy to such a wealth of documentation.”

“I rarely look for such things,” she said in reference to the tome, “they tend to find me instead. That one in particular came to me from a friendly young woman who traded it for some of my advice and services. How it had come to her, I did not ask.”

Ezra nodded, contemplating what he would do next.

“May I borrow this?” He asked gently, “It would vastly improve the quality of my search for the creature. You have my word that I would return it to you once I am finished.”

“You may, and you may borrow any other books you wish as long as they are eventually returned,” she nodded, “But nothing here is freely given. I must request something in return, my dear Drifter.”

“I must apologize then, for I am woefully short on funds,” Ezra sighed, closing the book and making to hand it back to her. However, she chuckled quietly, pushing it back in his direction as he still held it.

“Not everything must be paid for with material wealth,” she replied, “Not here, anyway.”

“Then what would you desire as payment?” Ezra asked, his eyes flickering to her lips. He’d seen enough of the world to know what words like those typically meant, and he wondered if he would be willing to give himself to her for a night if she requested it in exchange for her novel. She was beautiful, alluring, and intriguing, he gave her that. He decided that he would be more than consenting in such a scenario, although the request itself seemed... odd to him.

“A story,” she replied, confusing him.

“A story?” He repeated. She nodded, sitting down at a table before motioning for him to join her. As he did so, she explained.

“Indeed,” she said, “Tell me the story of why your hunt for the Chupacabra is so dire that you are willing to drift for decades chasing what many would consider to be a fallacy. There must be more there than simple curiosity.”

Ezra pondered his words for a moment, then took a deep breath before delving into his memories.

“I was young,” he started, “and with my father out in the middle of the southwestern desert for a camping excursion. There was a ranch nearby, plenty of livestock that we could see from our temporary dwellings.”

“Mhm,” the woman nodded, continuing to listen intently to his tale.

“It was late at night, and a dreadful sound awoke me from where I was sleeping,” Ezra explained, “I ventured away from the tent, and followed the cries over to the nearby paddock, when I... I saw...”

“Something you could not explain,” she finished for him. He nodded, but he knew that he was not yet done with his tale.

“It was like a large dog, eating one of the goats in the field. But it... it was no canine. It had spikes on its back, scales that glinted in the moonlight. I must have startled it, as it stood and looked straight at me with eyes I shall not soon forget... and then it charged at me.”

“Attacking a human? That is behavior I hadn’t heard of before. Very interesting... please, go on.”

“It knocked me down, pinned me beneath itself as it snapped its jaws at me. I’m not sure if it was a tooth or a claw that managed to gouge my skin, but as you can see,” Ezra said, motioning to the curved scar on his cheek, “it branded me for the rest of my days. If my father had not come along and scared it away, I fear I may have died that night.”

The table fell into collective silence once he concluded his recount, a few heavy moments passing before the woman across from him spoke again.

“I can see why you’re so consumed with this search then,” she said, “to be so close to death yet no one believing the true cause... it must have been difficult for you.”

“Incredibly,” Ezra said, “which is why I need all the help I can get in securing proof. To make people realize I was not merely telling tales that night.”

She nodded again, this time hesitating before quickly nodding to his missing right arm.

“And was that...?”

“Oh, I’m afraid this was caused by much more mundane circumstances,” Ezra replied, indicating the stump that was left, “I received a slight injury during one of my times out in the wilderness. I did not want to give up my chase so soon, so I attempted to make do with what little medical supplies I had. However, as you can see, the outcome was much different than I had intended. Infection rendered the limb useless, and if I did not have it amputated, it would have spread and cut my days particularly short.”

“My apologies, I did not mean to intrude,” his companion said softly, but Ezra simply shook his head in response.

“No need for apologies,” he replied, “it was a valid question.”

“May I also ask if you are in need of a place to stay tonight?” She asked, “I have a spare room for guests and drifters, and I would venture to say you are both.”

“That would be much appreciated, actually,” he said, suddenly realizing he would much prefer a warm bed to the backseat of his car for a night.

“Very well,” she said, “you may peruse my collection of information as much as you like, and as I said before, you may borrow as many as would help you, provided you return them when you have had your use of them. Your story was more than adequate compensation for them, my dear Drifter.”

“That is very kind of you,” Ezra replied, “My name is Ezra, by the way. Seems only appropriate you should have a name to place with the face sharing your home this evening.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Ezra,” she replied before giving him her own name in turn. He repeated it back, as if he were savoring its taste.

As Ezra wandered over to the bookshelves, he noticed her walk away into another part of the house, no doubt to get a bed ready for him. He perused the titles; some of them in English, some of them not. Some of them still in languages he could not recognize at all. He chose a couple from the shelf, flipping through the pages and indexes to see if they contained any pertinent information. A few times, he wound up returning a book to the shelf, only to find one right next to it that held the exact details he’d been looking for. He remembered back to his host’s statement that her tomes often found her, not the other way around.

A sudden brush of something against his lower leg startled Ezra out of his thoughts, and he looked down to find a small calico cat brushing its fur along him.

“Well hello, little one,” Ezra murmured, kneeling down to pet it, “I hadn’t noticed you there.”

“Ah, yes,” the woman said, returning to the living room, “I see you’ve met Lyla. I’m pleased to see she’s taken a liking to you. Not many guests pass her test, especially not well enough to be allowed to pet her.”

“Test?” Ezra inquired.

“Well, that’s one term for it, anyway,” she replied, “animals have a very keen sense of people’s nature. There have been many guests who have been turned away because Lyla refused to allow them near me, only for me to find out later that their intentions were less than acceptable. So to see her allowing you so close brings me comfort.”

“I understand,” Ezra replied, “a very keen decision on your part.”

“Thank you kindly,” she said, “Have you found what you are looking for?”

“I think I have a good start,” Ezra said, holding up three books in addition to the one she’d already given him, “This should serve me well and provide me with at least a few leads.”

“Wonderful,” she said with a smile, “you’re more than welcome to read them in your room, or right here in the den, whichever you would prefer. Though if you stay in here, I cannot guarantee you won’t be interrupted by someone else coming to call upon my services.”

“What kind of services do you provide, exactly? Surely you must get wages from somewhere,” Ezra asked, standing to his feet and moving towards a plush couch.

“I provide many services,” the woman responded, taking a seat in a nearby rocking chair, “most people come calling when they have a problem they cannot explain or when conventional solutions have failed. Some arrive simply for spoken advice, or to have a listening ear. Others still, like yourself, are looking for something they cannot find on their own. As for payment, I only ask in return what people can offer. Some offer monetary funds. Others offer less tangible things, like stories. And others still simply bring things to barter with, such as ingredients for spells or books. I assure you, I am not in any financial danger.”

“I did not mean to imply that you are,” Ezra said softly, “I was simply curious.”

“I take no offense,” she replied with a smile that seemed to root itself in his chest, “I understand curiosity concerning such matters.”

With this, the room fell silent, and as Lyla climbed upon the woman’s lap, she began to rock the chair gently, moving her head to stare out of the window and towards the lush green landscape beyond. Ezra took the first book and creaked open the pages, beginning to pore through the sections he thought could help him most in his quest. The quiet was not unsettling, nor was it awkward or uncomfortable. It simply was, as if it were meant to be this way. It was a comfortable silence, one that Ezra realized he quite enjoyed being a part of.

The afternoon passed in a lazy haze, Ezra interrupting the stillness every so often to ask questions about his readings or to ask for her advice on certain matters. The sunlight drifted through the windows, shadows growing longer throughout the day.

“I suppose it’s time for dinner, wouldn’t you say?” She asked, and Ezra nodded in the affirmative as his stomach growled in turn.

She stood and moved into her kitchen, pulling a pot from beneath the countertop and preparing a gathering of different types of foods.

“Are you alright with stew?” She asked gently, turning back to Ezra.

“More than alright,” Ezra replied, “that sounds divine.”

She nodded, smiling at him before going back to her business. She added in the ingredients, tossing in a few herbs from her collection as well. Whether they were for taste or for more metaphysical purposes, Ezra did not ask. She hummed a tune he did not recognize as she cooked, and he noticed that she always stirred her pot full of broth and delicacies in a clockwise motion. He made a mental note to ask her why later. But for the time being, Ezra contented himself with perusing the tomes that he’d chosen from her shelves, his stomach growing more persistent as the scent of the food made its way in from the kitchen.

Ezra briefly considered that he found her little cottage more of a home than anything else he’d found for himself since his seemingly never-ending journey had begun all those years ago. The thought unnerved him slightly, considering he’d only been her guest for mere hours at this point. But he felt as though there was a light to her, an energy that he could never hope to find a duplicate of no matter how far or wide he traveled.

He was roused from his thoughts be the sound of her summoning him for dinner. He placed his books onto the low-rise table before him, and made his way into the kitchen with the sweet smell of food growing stronger with every step. He found a pot filled to the brim with stew, and a bowl sat aside for him as she nodded towards the sink for him to wash his hands. Once Ezra had done so, he grabbed a generous portion of food for himself, taking an extra spoonful at the woman’s insistence.

“You’ll need the extra food for your journey later,” she said, “Don’t be afraid to take as much as you like.”

Once Ezra sat himself across from her at her kitchen table, he began to devour his meal, unaware of just how hungry he’d become for a decent home-cooked meal until the first bite met his tongue.

“Are the books offering you any assistance?” She asked him between mouthfuls.

“Indeed they are,” he responded, “According to their information, I believe it would be most advantageous to search again in the southwest. However, it would serve me well to look smarter, not harder, I believe.”

His host hummed in agreement.

“I concur,” she said, “it does no good to wander in circles if you are not intending to.”

“Yes,” Ezra replied, “and I cannot imagine many scenarios in which people intend to wander in circles.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” she said, “there are many instances in which wandering in circles can be very beneficial. At least in a circle, you will always wander back to the point you started from.”

Ezra nodded, contemplating her words as he ate.

Yes, he thought to himself, it does quite appear that my first impressions of you were very incorrect indeed, my dear.

———————————————————————

Taglist: @aerynwrites @pedropascalito @hiscyarika @whataenginerd @yespolkadotkitty @ezrasarm @tortles @thottiewinemom @mandobitch @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @wickedfrsgrl @pedropasscals @pikemoreno  @adikaofmandalore @pedrowhorian @littleferal @pascalispedro @goldhoran @mrschiltoncat @oloreaa @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @agent-catfish-kenobi​ @leias-left-hair-bun @phoenixhalliwell @wanderlustmags @thirstworldproblemss​ @hayley-the-comet​ @talesfromtheguild​ @artsymaddie​ @rosiefridayrogersunday​ @andruxx @maharani-radha @castiel-barnes @stardust-galaxies @ladylothlorien @mack4676 @disgruntledspacedad @lazybeeches @blackmarketmummy @martellthemandalor

#kinda thinkin this is gonna be a 3 part series #Around 10k by the time I’m done!! #ezra #ezra prospect #ghost scribbles

[cherryrogers]

➸ protector

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | mob au

warnings: swearing, mild violence + assault, stalking, mentions of illness + death, fluff.

word count: 7.4k

synopsis: Ironically, the man with blood on his hands and a permanent target on his back was the one you’d never felt safer with.

a/n: mob au’s are top tier so of course i had to write one at some point. i hope that this one is even a smidge as good as every other one out there !! please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated !!

A dark blanket had encompassed the city; swallowed the highest of skyscrapers and narrowest of alleyways. Engulfed shamrock green parks and swept through empty office buildings. Allowed for the busy city to sleep, ironically — this was New York, after all.

Below it, along a quiet street bordering Central Park, walked an unlikely duo. One who’d only ever known violence. The other hoped never to come across it. Yet under the deep ink sky, indulged in each other’s company, no two people seemed to harmonise so well.

“I thought you were walking me home, not taking me down every street in Manhattan.”

“What, have you had enough of me for the night?”

Furrowing your brows, you stopped in your tracks. “Is that what you’re doing? Stringing out the walk back so that the night doesn’t end so soon?”

Bucky looked back at you, a grin pulling at his lips. “Maybe.”

You smirked, poking a finger into his chest. “Tell me, Barnes — do your mob friends know that you’re such a sap?”

Eyes glimmering under the moonlight, Bucky shot a glare your way before slinging an arm back around your shoulder. “I guess I better get you back then — obviously you have better things to be doing...”

“And a drama queen,” You teased, leaning into his embrace. “Some big bad mob boss you are.”

“Yeah, yeah — give it a rest.” He rolled his eyes, only pulling you closer.

It wasn’t often in his line of work that Bucky met someone who could make him momentarily forget about the life he led. In fact, you weren’t in his line of work at all, and that’s why it was so easy with you. Frankly, everyone around him either worked for him or wanted to kill him; it was difficult to find anyone between the two that he could simply be himself with.

While he had power over Hell’s Kitchen, that didn’t mean it was safe for him to roam the streets freely. Ever since he was a child, his father had told him to always assume that he was being watched, whether it was by the cops or members of other mobs looking to cause trouble. Everyone he ever associated with became a target; a weakness. Someone whose death would throw him off his game. That’s why he never made friends, always sticking to the few ones he had who’d been in the crime world as long as he’d been.

Following a messy run-in with another mob on a night which felt like centuries ago, Bucky wandered into a random bar in hopes of clearing his head with as much whiskey as the cash in his pocket would pay for. But the bartender that night, well, she wasn’t having any of it. As it turned out, a conversation lasting until 2am with her did more for him than the strong liquid in his glass had ever done.

That night, he decided that perhaps he could have one none-criminal, none-mob, none-person that has a weapon on them at all times friend. Just one; just a friend.

He was honest with you about his work. At first, he wasn’t even sure you believed him. Because why would you? You couldn’t count the amount of times guys had made up horribly unbelievable lies about their occupations in an attempt to make an impression. ‘Mob boss’ would certainly be a new one, but not any more or less convincing than a supposed world-renowned doctor or a highly successful entrepreneur that had trouble adding up their bill total.

There was certainly something different about Bucky; in the way he carried himself, in how he talked. Plus, his eyes tended to always drift back to the entrance, as if he was anticipating someone’s arrival. While a doctor is a more common career for the average man than a mob boss, if anyone happened to be one, your guess would be the guy that was able to drink on weeknights without worrying about having a hangover for work the next day.

“It’s pretty dark around here, that’s all,” You shrugged, eyeing the star-scattered sky. “And muggers don’t make exceptions for the mob, unfortunately.”

“You don’t think I could take on a mugger? What do you think I do for a living?”

“You know, you’ve never actually told me...” You shifted your gaze to him, watching as his brows pinched together and the smile slowly disappeared from his lips.

Any knowledge you had of mobsters and gangs was from the movies. All the crime, killing, money — it seemed insane to even speculate that it was happening right under your nose. You’d only known Bucky for a few months, not once had you even questioned his work because you’d convinced yourself that it was better not to. That you liked the person he was with you, and whoever he was at work wasn’t any of your concern.

It spiked your curiosity, though. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done anything that’d horrify you if you saw it on the news. Being a bartender, you met new people almost every day — you had a skill in distinguishing good and bad people. Bucky had a good heart; there was nothing about him that signalled as a red flag. He genuinely cared about you — why else would he walk you home from work every chance he got? As well as being the reason for your full tip jar most nights, and simply spending most nights with you when he could be anywhere else in New York City.

A sigh fell from Bucky’s lips as he stopped the two of you under a lit street lamp. He brought a hand to your face, gently tucking your hair behind you ear. “It’s complicated, dollface.“

“Is it?” You asked quietly, uncertainty evident in your expression. “Or are you afraid of telling me in case it’ll scare me away?”

Bingo. A guilty grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Not many people can read me like that.”

You let out a laugh. “Well, not many people have the pleasure of talking to you for hours almost every night.”

“Yeah, you’re a pretty lucky girl.”

Scrunching your nose, you softly whacked at his chest. Honestly, picturing Bucky as a leading mobster in the city was difficult sometimes. Almost always, there was a smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes — nothing like the stereotype at all.

Within moments, he’d pressed his lips into a narrow line, tracing his hands down your arms before clasping your hands in his. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, or about this city. If you asked, I’d explain it all to you, but I don’t think you want that on your conscience. I was born into this life; I do what I do because I have to and it’s nowhere near an easy job. It’s a scary world to get caught up in, babe — one that I’ll protect you from for as long as I can. That is, if you’ll let me.”

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you let your eyes drop to his chest, covered by the white dress-shirt and dark blazer that he always tended to sport. It occurred to you that his work had to be far more dangerous than you’d imagined. Truthfully, it worried you. What was so bad that he didn’t want on your conscience? Who would want to hurt you if you happened to get caught up in his world?

You agreed with him; it was a scary world, and you were a completely stranger to it. However, something else occurred to you as well. In the time that you’d known Bucky, that he kept you company on your late shifts, that he walked you the distance from the bar to your apartment every time without fail, you never once questioned your safety with him.

There was a time when you’d spend most of your tips from the shift you’d just finished to hire a cab to take you home, afraid of what hid in the shadows on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Alternatively, you’d wear a large winter coat on warm summer nights so you could carry pepper spray in your pocket and access it easily, not to mention the hand cramp you’d develop from carrying your keys between your knuckles for the entirety of the journey back.

With Bucky, you never needed to worry about being vulnerable, being a target — you’d happily let him protect your from the terrors of the world for the rest of your life.

“Bucky, I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for walking me home every night.”

“You thank me all the time, and I always tell you it’s not a bother—”

“No, I mean really thanked you,” You cut him off, giving his hands a squeeze. “I used to dread leaving the bar every night. The thought of having to walk back to my apartment alone in the middle of the night, every night... it made me feel sick. And out of nowhere, this really gorgeous guy starts showing up at the bar every night and gets me home safely without fail. I— I don’t think you realise how safe I feel with you, Bucky. I feel so safe that I couldn’t ever be scared of you. You’ve looked out for me for this long out of the kindness of your heart — you’re a good person, you care about me. Your work might be scary to me, but you’re not, and I’m not planning on losing a good guy who happens to be caught up in a not-so-good world.”

Panic flared in your chest when you stopped speaking. You and Bucky weren’t exactly... an item, yet. Yes, he cuddled you to his side when he walked you home, he made you laugh like you never thought you could, he called you pet names that had your heart bursting with adoration. But between his hesitation about getting too close to you and your fear of asking him questions that he didn’t want to answer, an invisible boundary had set its place in the middle of you. Perhaps you’d been too forward, he only asked if you’d let him keep you safe and then you went on an unnecessary tangent—

Oh, he was kissing you. Okay, okay.

His careful hands cradling your face felt like the only thing stopping your legs from giving out; Bucky was kissing you. And fuck, it was a good kiss. One you’d been anticipating since the first time he walked you home. God, if your mother knew you were kissing a mob boss right now—

It didn’t matter — not to you. The job didn’t define him, even if everyone else around him told him that it did. You’d make sure he remembered that; you’d protect him in your own way.

Bucky pulled back first, anxious to see your reaction. It was impulsive, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when you were telling him how safe he made you feel, not when you said you didn’t want to lose him. Because he didn’t plan on losing you either.

“Listen, I’ve done things in the past that I’d rather forget...”

You shook your head at him. “Bucky, you don’t have to explain anything—”

“Please, just one thing,” He urged, watching you give him a nod before continuing. “I don’t— I don’t kill for fun, or steal from anyone out of greed, or hurt anyone just because I can. I know a lot of people who do all three without remorse; those guys are the ones I’m trying to take down. I just don’t want you thinking I’m some sort of monster—”

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” You offered him a genuine smile. “I think... you’re doing the best you can with the life you’ve been given.”

In a rare moment of demureness, a light blush coated Bucky’s cheeks; he couldn’t have put it better himself. A kiss was pressed to your forehead before he was tugging at your hands.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.”

* * *

To put it lightly, you were not happy.

It was a Sunday; the only day of the week where you were able to spend the evening binge-watching nearly half a season of a show in the comfort of your own living room. The only day that you could spend alone — no social interaction whatsoever. After a week of dealing with (usually tipsy) strangers, God knows you needed a day to wind down.

However, this Sunday night, you were right where you didn’t want to be — behind the bar, pouring out another glass of rum to a man who really should’ve just started a tab, waiting for the blessed hour of 2am to arrive because a co-worker called in sick at the last minute. To top it all off, Bucky wasn’t there to accompany you. You’d thought about calling him, but your mind told you he was probably busy with ‘mob stuff’, whatever that was. Plus, he spent almost every other night at the bar with you; you could survive one night alone.

It wasn’t such a busy night; Sundays never were at such a late hour. By the time you were closing up the place, there was only one person who’d stayed the whole night. He left without a fuss when you asked him to, which was reassuring. It was going to be your first time walking home alone in months — you didn’t need something to be paranoid about.

Still, you’d came prepared — a can of pepper spray hid in your left pocket, while your keys remained between your knuckles in your right one. Sometimes, you wondered if you were being dramatic. When you walked home with Bucky, there was barely anybody on the streets, never mind anyone that was looking to attack someone. But your paranoia won over that rationale; you could never be too sure.

You didn’t take the long way home like Bucky tended to have you do. Unlike with him, you wanted to get home as fast as possible, not waste time dawdling around the streets.

And still, within minutes of your departure from the bar, you felt someone’s eyes on you.

Surely, the odds weren’t that against you. It was your first time leaving work alone in months — it couldn’t also be the night that something... bad was going to happen because of it.

Don’t think like that, you thought to yourself, huffing quietly. A few more blocks and you’d be at your apartment building. Nobody was watching you, nobody was following you. Paranoia was unnecessarily powerful; it had to be your mind playing tricks on you.

However, after a short internal argument with yourself, you decided that it couldn’t hurt to take a glimpse behind you — just in case. And maybe sometimes trusting your paranoid thoughts was the right thing to do.

Because with one look over your shoulder, your heart rate had doubled in speed — there was someone following you.

The man from the bar, you were sure it was him. Not that you were good with remembering faces, but you’d just seen him not even ten minutes ago. Is that why he waited till the end of your shift? To follow you? You specifically?

He was around fifteen feet behind you, purposely keeping his distance. Fucking hell; what did he want? What could you give him that forced him to sit in the bar for hours waiting to get you on your own?

Bucky was going to kill you, but you’d rather that than, well, someone else having the chance to before him. Within moments, you were dialing his number, ignoring the sense of helplessness you felt in your chest.

The phone rang, and rang. Too many times for your liking.

...

...

“_____?” Thank fuck.

The sound of his voice alone was reassuring; it’d be even more so if he was there with you. He didn’t sound groggy, at least you hadn’t woken him up. “Are you okay?”

“Hey...” You let out a nervous laugh. “Where are you right now?”

“Just at home, dollface...” He answered cautiously, obviously sensing your unease. “Are you alright?”

Approaching the corner of the street you’d been speed-walking down, you took a left turn, eyes darting behind you before you disappeared down the next street. He was still there, still close behind you.

Bucky heard your breath hitch. “Babe, what’s going on? Where are you?”

Fuck. “I’m walking home from work.”

“What? You don’t work on Sundays.”

“Someone called in sick, I got called in last minute,” You gripped the pepper spray in your pocket impossibly tight, fear coursing through your veins. “Bucky, I think someone’s following me.”

There was a moment of silence; you worried he was already mad. But soon enough, you heard the fumbling of boots against a wooden floor. If you weren’t so terrified, you would’ve told him that coming to find you was unnecessary.

“Stay on the phone, okay? I’m gonna come and get you. Keep walking, don’t go down any alleyways,” He instructed, as you heard the click of a front door shutting over the speaker. “Do they know you’ve seen them?”

“I— I think so? Fuck, I don’t know...” You uttered, panic laced in your voice.

The sound of a car starting up provided you with some relief. He’d find you soon; Bucky would keep you safe. “You’re okay, I’m right here. How far away from the bar are you?”

“Uh...” You quickly took in your surroundings — hopefully you weren’t appearing as panicked as you felt. “There’s a nail salon on my right. Next to an Italian restaurant, and there’s a Starbucks on the corner.”

Luckily, Bucky knew Hell’s Kitchen inside out. His boots pressed hard on the gas instantly. “I know where you are. Just keep moving, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, too afraid of provoking the man who was following your tracks. Was he even still there? You couldn’t bring yourself to check.

You imagined Bucky must’ve been breaking speed limits left and right on his journey to you, considering that it’d barely been five minutes since he’d got in his car before you heard a vehicle not far behind you.

Working up the courage to take a look back, you noticed that the man following you had been distracted by Bucky’s car. It was a large, sheer black SUV with blacked out windows; the perfect car for someone in his profession. Perfect enough that your stalker of sorts realised he was in for it, and immediately spun around to walk the other way.

However, he wasn’t getting off that easily.

The car door flung open, making you flinch even from where you were stood fifteen feet away. A figure dressed in a black hoodie and dark jeans jumped out, catching the man by his jacket sleeve before he could make his escape — Bucky. He mustn’t have had time to switch to his regular attire. In different circumstances, it’d be nice seeing him in such casual clothes.

Within seconds, the man was slammed against the brick wall of the bank you’d just passed, Bucky’s hand wrapped around his throat. All you could do was watch, paralysed with shock.

Coughing and spluttering, the man looked up to identify his attacker; his eyes widened. “B— Barnes?”

“You know me?” Bucky asked through gritted teeth, his grip on the man not wavering in the slightest, even when he nodded furiously. “You’re sure as hell not one of my guys — who you do work for?”

Stupidly, the man continued to squirm, desperate to get out of Bucky’s clutch. His throat was only clasped tighter. “Tell me who you fucking work for.”

“P— Pierce! I work for Pierce,” He panted.

Fucking hell. “Did he send you here?

“Yes.”

“Why?” Bucky growled, yet again tightening his grasp when there was a pause in conversation. “I swear I’ll crush your fucking windpipe—”

“The girl,” He answered breathlessly. “Someone told him you’d been seeing a girl— one that wasn’t part of your mob. He— He thought he’d be able to get to you through her, so he sent me to spy on her, work out who she was to you. I was just following her, I wasn’t gonna hurt her—!”

“But Pierce is planning to, isn’t he?” Son of a bitch. This, this was exactly what he was afraid of. Pierce has been looking for a way to take him down for as long as he could remember. But with no outside connections, no obvious weakness to him, it was impossible. You were just what he’d been waiting for — a loose screw in the framework, a crack in the pavement. Someone that would throw Bucky Barnes right off his game if you were dragged into the mess that he was trying to keep you out of.

But he’d made a promise to keep you safe; he wasn’t planning on breaking it.

Jaw clenching, eyes narrowing — Bucky rammed the winded guy into the wall for the last time. “If I see you around here again, you won’t live long enough to report back to your bastard boss.”

God, he could just do it. Squeeze this bonehead’s throat until he was unable to grant his lungs the pleasure of a singular breath of oxygen. Leave his pathetic ass unconscious on the ground for someone else to find — for Pierce to find. He’d be furious, but he’d be scared. Scared of how easy it was for his nemesis to take out one of his men. Scared of what lengths he’d go to ensure your safety.

But you were still there, watching him, unsure of his next move. If he could help it, he wasn’t going to let you be the witness to a murder, especially one on his part. The one pure thing in his life — he wasn’t going to ruin you.

With reluctance, he snatched his hand back, letting the man fall to his knees and instantly gasp for air.

“Get the fuck out of here, or I’ll change my mind on letting your sorry ass live.” He snarled, not waiting for a response before he began jogging in your direction.

Lips parted, brows furrowed, eyes glossy — you looked like you’d seen a ghost (or just heard that a mob boss was planning your murder).

Concern contorted into his features, Bucky quickly approached you, stopping himself from grabbing your face in his hands in fear that his touch wasn’t what you wanted. Had he just ruined everything? Even though you’d claimed that he could never scare you, he wasn’t sure that after that performance that your statement still stood.

Your eyes zeroed in on his chest, cogs working in your mind to try and process what the hell was going on. And Bucky worried that this was it — he’d dragged you into something you never wanted to be a part of and now, there was no getting out for you. You hated him for it, didn’t you? Fucking hell.

But after a few moments, his doubts were proven false when you crashed into his chest, enveloping his waist and shoving your face into the crook of his neck. He’d saved you, just like you knew he would.

Letting out a breath of relief, Bucky drew you closer by encircling your shoulders. Behind him, the pathetic man who he’d just about let live scurried away from the scene, allowing you to peacefully bask in the safe place that was Bucky’s arms.

Still, he feared that being out in the open wasn’t such a good idea. Pressing a lingering kiss you the crown of your head, he pulled back to meet your glazed eyes. “I’m taking you back to my place, is that okay?”

Without a word, you gave him a nod. If whoever was keeping tabs on you knew where you worked, there was a chance that they knew your home address too — the thought sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

The car ride back to Bucky’s was quiet. Buildings blurred together as your eyes remained glued to the window, a dismal look on your face. In the driver’s seat, Bucky stole glances at you — he’d never seen you so silent, so down. The crime world was not something he was a stranger to. Being at the top of someone’s hit list was nothing new to him. Nobody could get rid of him; that’s why he was despised by so many, and he didn’t care to mind these days. Shooting his way was a waste of bullets, men sent to find him with knives and crowbars in hand were using their time poorly.

But you weren’t him. No, you were the bubbly bartender that got whisked into his mess simply because you’d been nice enough to ask him about his sullen mood the first night you’d met. This life was never meant for you. Only a sick, emotionless person would’ve sought to harm you, even to spite their worst enemy. Even as ransom, as a way in to seek out Bucky’s weaknesses. He’d told you little about his work, and for good reason. The less you knew, the less important you were to those against him. Knowledge was power in this business.

A clanking noise emerged from in front of the car, managing to pull your eyes from the window. The car had stopped momentarily to allow a grand, silver gate to open, cushioned between the start and end of the black metal fence surrounding the land. Bucky had reached a hand out of his window to punch a code into the keypad next to the gate without you even noticing.

You knew that Bucky was well-off, but fuck.

The house was smaller than you’d imagined. Definitely still large, especially in comparison to your studio apartment. But taking into account the designer suits he styled every night, the stupid amount of money he’d tip you for a single drink, even the confidence he carried at all times — not cockiness, but self-assurance — had you thinking that when he went home at night, that it was to a multimillion dollar mansion. All glass, taking up acres upon acres, all for one man to live in.

However, it wasn’t that at all. It had a maximum of two stories, along with a garage to the left of the main building. It was modern, for sure. Monotonous with its black front door and window frames, the rest blinding white — more subtle than celebrity mansions shown off on social media. It was very Bucky; impressive and eye-catching, but not too flashy.

He opened the car door on your side, allowing you to climb out of the SUV, taking his outreached hand even though you didn’t quite need it. You would’ve uttered a joke about chivalry being dead if it weren’t for your dull mood; perhaps another time.

On a more positive note, you definitely felt safer enclosed in the towering fence surrounding Bucky’s house. At home, you’d be scared to blink in fear that it would declare you vulnerable to an attack.

It wasn’t long before he’d guided you into his home, tapping another code into another keypad as you entered the place, examining it in awe. The scruffy black boots on your feet juxtaposed the gleaming checkered flooring underneath them. A silver chandelier spread light across the foyer-like area, making you squint after the drive through the dark night.

Bucky watched as you took in your surroundings, noticing the way you crossed your arms over your chest, bowed your head — you were curling in on yourself, as if you didn’t belong there. He didn’t like that.

But after a minute or so, you diverted your gaze to him, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “This place... it’s amazing.”

You’d only seen one room, sparse of furniture and lacking personality, but you didn’t need much more convincing of its splendour.

As confident as he walked, Bucky couldn’t say he took compliments well. It was the modesty that he didn’t even realise he had. Flashy watches and perfectly tailored suits littered his closet, sure — but not to reel in ego-feeding comments. He wasn’t the one who tailored his clothes, or carefully sculpted his wristwatches; he merely had the cash to splash on them. Many could only dream to have what he did — they’d take it in a second if it was offered to them. But for what? To maintain by being on the wrong side of the law and trusting that you woudn’t mess up? To be constantly looking over your shoulder, constantly having a target on your back?

He had a good life, he wasn’t denying that. Fear wasn’t the issue; he wasn’t scared. But he wondered if this was all there was to his life. Being someone’s enemy, the object of another’s hatred. No sense of normality to cling onto when things began to get messy. Maybe that’s why he became so attached to you; his sense of peace, a normal life. Which was ironic, since there was nothing normal about you. If you were normal, you’d be forgettable. And that, you were not.

As a thank you, he shot you a grin, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you need a drink? Or somethin’ to eat?”

You shook your head. “I’m okay, thanks. I’m more tired than anything, honestly.”

“I’ll take you upstairs then.” Usually, he’s take hold of your hand, or wrap an arm around you to escort you somewhere — he had a feeling you needed your own space right now, so instead, he let you follow his steps up the sheeny marble staircase.

It was true, you were tired. Exhausted, even. But you didn’t want to close your eyes, or be left alone, be left vulnerable again.

Bucky led you into a darker room, one that clearly wasn’t used so often. Still, it was large for a bedroom. A queen sized bed was pushed against the far wall, draped in royal blue sheets which complemented the grey cushions sat atop of them. A closet built into the wall took up one side of the room, and a plain, white wooden desk sat under the window on the other side. The door to an en-suite bathroom just peeked out next to the closet. Minimalistic, but lovely nonetheless.

“This is the guest room, usually where my sister stays when she visits every once in a blue moon,” He commented, moving to switch on the lamp standing on top of the desk. “There’ll be some clothes you can change into in the closet.”

A sister; you were even aware he had siblings. That was something he’d never talked about — family. Neither did you, so much, but it was as if Bucky didn’t have one at all. He said that he was born into the mob, so you assumed that his parents (or at least one of them) led the same life that he did.

With a small smile, Bucky acknowledged your thankful nod before leaving you to your own devices. It was obvious he didn’t want to pry, ask you questions that he already knew the answer to.

And you weren’t exactly sure what to say to him either. The situation was completely out of your control; if someone was after you to spite Bucky, how were you supposed to protect yourself? You couldn’t just move in with Bucky to ensure your safety, and it’s not like your apartment building with its rusty locks and lack of security detail put you out of harms way.

Sighing defeatedly, you stripped out of your work attire and kicked off your boots before taking a look in the closet. There weren’t too many nightwear options anyway, but you decided on a faded vintage Metallica shirt, cracks in the logo from the amount of times it’d been washed, along with a worn pair of baggy sweatpants. Not exactly an outfit that you were eager for Bucky to see you in, but given the circumstances, that was the least of your worries as you stepped out of the bedroom. You’d been alone for barely five minutes, but an uneasy pit was still beginning to form in your stomach.

The mob boss came into sight once you’d wandered back downstairs. Freshly poured glass of whiskey in hand, lounged back on a pristine white couch through an archway to the right of the foyer. Probably a lot more expensive that what he chugged down back at your bar, shipped directly from Ireland or Scotland. He didn’t notice as you stood idly in the archway, simply taking in his appearance — comfortable clothing, still sporting an extravagant Rolex (of course), slightly disheveled hair that’s been brushed back by his fingers — before slowly approaching the couch to take a seat next to him.

“You’ve never mentioned your sister.” His eyes flit to yours upon hearing your voice, tentative in case it was a sore subject.

The corner of his lips curled, not used to seeing you in anything other than washed-out jeans and a simple black tee. Shuffling along as you seated yourself, Bucky let out a breath. “She’s lived in Syracuse with my mom since she was barely a teenager, her name’s Rebecca.”

It brought you a sense of relief that Bucky still had family; since he never spoke of them, you worried that he’d lost them because of his lifestyle. “Does she visit much?”

“Nah, only a couple of times a year,” He shook his head, swirling his drink around in his hand. “It’s safer if she keeps her distance from the this part of New York. I used to never let her visit at all, but then— then my dad died a few years back, and after that she insisted on coming down here from time to time — said she couldn’t handle losing me too.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the job that killed his father. Lung cancer did it before another eager opposer ever got the chance to. Bucky had never been a smoker; never saw the appeal, especially after witnessing his father go through packs upon packs of cigarettes with the purest tobacco he could find to deal with the stress of the job.

And of course once he’d passed, it was up to his son to take over an organisation he wasn’t at all prepared for. Gone too soon, his father hadn’t been able to teach him everything he needed to know. Everything he needed to survive. Luckily, the Barnes kids were smart — Becca currently working on her nursing degree and Bucky, well, learning how not to die in his occupation.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” You sympathised, not wanting to keep pressing. There was a reason he’d been so intent on keeping you safe — his sister had already been driven away from the dangers and risks of being close to the mobs of Manhattan. He didn’t want that for you too. Not when this was your home, when he didn’t feel like he could lose you along with his sister because of the life he led. “I— I hope you know that tonight doesn’t change anything.”

His brows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

Fiddling with you fingers in your lap, you met his eyes dubiously. “I’m not scared— well — getting followed home from work by a guy sent by a mob boss to spy on me was pretty scary. But it hasn’t scared me away from you.”

Admittedly, he was happy with your words. The last thing he wanted was to see you running in the opposite direction. He wouldn’t have taken it lightly, even if he understood exactly why you wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Throwing down the rest of his drink, almost numb to the familiar burn in the back of his throat, Bucky discarded the empty glass on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Pierce has been after me for as long as I can remember; he was after my dad before that. He’s a coward, I can tell you that. Gets his men to do his dirty work. Carries a gun but never uses it. He won’t hurt you, but he doesn’t have a problem ordering every guy he knows to do it instead.”

A timid smile tipped your lips, as your clammy palms pressed against your thighs. “Is this supposed to be comforting?”

He huffed out a chuckle, but apologised upon seeing the worry behind your eyes. He’d been desensitised to violent threats and things alike; he wouldn’t let that happen to you. “I’m sorry, dollface. What I’m trying to say is... those guys are puppets on strings. They’re not smart; they don’t think for themselves. None of them have enough brain cells to get past me, which means they’d never be able to get to you.”

Your expression seemed to soften at that. Good, that meant you trusted him. Because he’d never lie to you. When he said he’d keep you safe, he meant it wholeheartedly. Now that he knew Pierce was meddling in his part of town, that made things a little easier. He’d let the rest of the guys know in the morning. Form a plan of action to force them to stay the fuck away.

In truth, Bucky wasn’t afraid. With his whole chest, he’d say that he had a higher IQ than all of Pierce’s men combined. And he’d say the same for you. Having a gun in your pocket of a knife slipped into your boot didn’t make you clever; it didn’t inherently make you a threat. Not when your target was never in your line of sight, never able to be spied on unknowingly. You’d known you were being followed within minutes, and you had Bucky in the phone not long after the realisation. You trusted your gut, always — that’s what was going to keep you safe. And him, of course.

“I believe you,” You reach a hand across the lavish couch, curling your fingers around the top of his hand. “I really do trust you, Bucky. I hope you don’t doubt that. I meant what I said the other night, about feeling safe with you.”

He tensed slightly in his seat — he really was a big sap, wasn’t he? The head of a mob who had a countless amount of blood on his hands was getting nervous at a woman’s touch. Your touch, however.

“I know,” Bucky eyed you fondly, savouring they warmth of your hand cupping his. “Just... please, next time you’re covering a shift, call me—”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you grinned. “I knew that was coming. It was one night, I didn’t think—”

“But look what happened—!”

“And what would’ve happened if you were walking me home?” You quirked a brow. “That guy still would’ve followed me from the bar, he might’ve even followed us to my apartment and— and tried something once you’d dropped me off.”

You were right. It seemed like they only knew where you worked, not where you lived. Bucky would’ve liked to think if someone was following the two of you that’d he’d notice, but he couldn’t lie — an elephant could’ve followed you down the street one night and he still wouldn’t have realised because he was so caught up in you.

A crease formed between his brows; what if they had found out your address? Without him knowing, which worried him even more—

“But I don’t wanna think about that,” You added, seeing his features falling. Feeling brazen, you shuffled closer, your thigh pressed against his. His breath hitched; you noticed. Heat pooled in your own cheeks. After all, you’d only kissed him once. Being in such close proximity to him still had your heart pounding. “What matters is that I’m here, and I’m with you, and I’m safe.”

Like music to his ears, your words put the shine right back into his eyes. And again, he couldn’t resist pulling you into him — kissing you. Tugging you by the hand still clutching his, basking in the feeling of your other hand moving to rest against his jaw, and moulding his lips with yours. A perfect fit, he thought.

The bitter tang of whiskey was prominent on his tongue; you’d never been one for spirits, but the taste on his lips was impossibly addictive. Something you could get used to. Under the soft pads of your fingers, his jaw was freshly trimmed, dark and rough. Lips honey soft in contrast.

He took you upstairs after that. After you’d both pulled away, lips swollen and eyes hazy, still holding hands like letting go was a crime — the only crime Bucky would shy away from. You were tired, he could tell. If you’d been at home, you would’ve fallen into a slumber long before now; that was if no one had been following you back. While he trusted that you felt safe in his home, it was clear you were still a little shaken. Even more so when he guided you to the guest room, closing the curtains for you as you scrubbed your teeth in the en-suite bathroom.

You felt like a child again; hurrying to spit and rinse so that you could escape the cold, tiled room and fall back into the arms of someone you felt safe with.

By the time you were done and padding back into the bedroom, Bucky had changed into yet another outfit you had yet to see. Now in a white shirt that clung to his torso and biceps, along with grey sweatpants matching yours, he looked... he looked gorgeous. Maybe you were being dramatic; the suit was certainly attractive, but seeing him in his casual wear— it was so domestic. It spread a fuzzy warmth from your fingertips to your toes.

As you pried your eyes from where he was stood in the doorway, shooting you a gentle smile, you began to curl up against the headboard of the large bed. And before a ‘goodnight’ could leave his lips, you hesitantly asked—

“Can you stay with me?”

Brows raised, Bucky swallowed nervously. Of course, he wouldn’t say no. “If you want me to, sure. I can set up on the floor—”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Bucky,” You grinned, knees pulled to your chest. Always a gentleman, he was. “I’d... prefer it if you were next to me.”

Sparkling with hope, your eyes pierced into his. If anything, he was sure you’d want to be alone for the night. Gather your thoughts, consider cutting him out of your life for getting you involved in something so dangerous. That was his doubt talking — he knew that you trusted him. And if sleeping next to you would put your mind at ease, he’d never let you sleep alone again until you felt you could.

Moving under the thick quilt, you observed Bucky as he tentatively made his way over to the bed, suppressing a chuckle.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He questioned, just about to pull back the quilt on his side.

A smirk played on your lips as you reached forward, pulling the sheet back for him. “We just made out on your couch; I’m okay with you lying next to me. Are you okay with this?”

He scoffed softly. In that moment, he knew that a bullet to the chest or a knife in his stomach wouldn’t be the death of him — you would.

“Just making sure.” He sighed, eventually climbing into the bed beside you, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

The pillow underneath your head felt like a cloud as you laid down on your side, Bucky mirroring your position soon after. He’d left the lamp on; the dim light casting a shadow over his features. It hit his eyes perfectly, however. Ocean blue, inviting you to drown in them — you’d do so in a heartbeat.

“Thank you.” You murmured, eyelids already heavy. If you weren’t drifting into unconsciousness, you would’ve pressed your lips to his yet again, craving the taste of that priceless whiskey. As a thank you, another one — you couldn’t thank him enough.

All those nights he could’ve spent in his million dollar home, drinking the purest of spirits on his plush couch, perhaps with company that was a little more used to his lifestyle. All those nights he could’ve spent in the safety and comfort of his own abode, he spent in a cold, austere bar drinking alcohol less expensive than his shoelaces, with you.

And he’d do it every night for the rest of time to watch over you, make you laugh, smile — ensure that such a vibrant girl was never exposed to what truly lurked in the shadows of Manhattan. He’d do it because without you, he’d be lost in those shadows. Trapped in a life of crime and violence and misery. Nowhere to turn to simply breathe.

Finding your hand under the silk sheets, Bucky pulled it close, brushing his lips against it ever so softly. And he replied with a smile. “You too, dollface.”

Watching as you fell asleep, gentle breaths hitting the pillow beneath your cheek, lips still a little swollen, hand grasping back at his ever so slightly — he sighed. One of relief, of content.

Your Bucky, always watching over you. But you — you were protecting him too. Protecting the worn-down soul of a complicated man from being truly lost in such a brutal world.

For that, he’d be more thankful than you could ever imagine.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes reader insert #mob!bucky #mob au

[ronsenburg]

Hi! I wanted to ask you something about Klapollo. What topic/argument do you think could possibly cause them to break up or take a break from the relationship? I live for the drama and was thinking about maybe writing a fic but like I dont want to make either of them assholes, like Apollo bringing Kristoph up to hurt Klavier, for example. I don't think he would do that but I struggle to come up with something else.

Oh boy, I hope you’re not upset about this, but I wrote you an essay. I’m sorry.

Overall, I really like the klapollo relationship timeline because, compared to, say, narumi/su they have a much more normal, organic story. They meet, flirt, share a mutual trauma, get together! Totally normal! But I also think that they would have a much harder time than narumi/su finding the balance you need in a serious relationship and I can see them calling it quits for perfectly practical reasons that aren’t really anything to do with one being a jerk, you know? Here are my top things that I think they would have to navigate and maybe struggle with before a real happily ever after:

1. Money. You’ve probably seen my post where I talk about Apollo feeling uncomfortable with displays of affluence. I don’t think that this is an easy one to get past. AA6 Spoilers, but Dhurke and Datz literally raised them in hiding on the run in the mountainous jungles of Khura’in. They sent Apollo to the states as a nine year old. We don’t know what he did when he got here, but my money’s always been on the foster system. That doesn’t typically breed a sense of stability, financial or otherwise. 

From my experience (so take it with a grain of salt), children who grow up with very little tend to behave in one of two ways when they reach financial stability and/or achieve wealth: first option, they’re really bad with it. They spend it nearly as fast as they make it on things they didn’t get to have or experience when they were growing up. Second option, they never spend it. They know what it’s like to be without, so they save as much of it as they can so they have the security of knowing, if something happens, they won’t have to go back to the way it was before. I will always put Apollo in the latter category. He works hard for what he has and what he gets and, I think, things that signify extravagance make him uncomfortable. On the other hand, I think that the Gavin’s have always had some sort of wealth. Klavier and Kristoph have very different aesthetics to their spaces that we get to experience (Klavier’s office and Kristoph’s cell) but they’re both pretty lavish. Now, we can assume they each made their money individually in their respective careers but, honestly, Kristoph’s cell is so gaudy. To me, it screams “this is what I’m used to and I refuse to accept any less” which is an attitude that I feel comes more from a lifetime of that treatment. 

So if we accept everything that I’ve said above as true, trying to put a person who saves every penny they get and feels bad treating themselves with a person who spends money freely because it’s been a constant throughout their life? It can go poorly. Casually dating, maybe it’s not such an issue once Apollo says “please no more presents and can we just get takeout for once?” but if you’re talking about something more serious, where you have to live in the same space and pay joint bills and be confronted with the other person’s spending habits constantly, it’s a whole other thing. Please take it from me as a person in a long term relationship who loves their partner tremendously—everyone fights about money. Everyone. It would be very difficult for Apollo to feel comfortable, even if he knew that finances were in good shape and there was savings, etc. Things happen, people leave. Nothing gold can stay. Changing that line of thinking takes work. It would also be easier said than done for Klavier to just do an about face on his own habits for Apollo’s comfort. Being a celebrity makes money, but it costs money, too. There is a certain amount of lushness that people expect. That can’t just go away. These are things that become bigger problems overtime, no matter how much you love each other. 

Anyway, I would be really surprised if—even if you’re writing them as really happily married—Apollo doesn’t have a ‘emergency fund’ that even Klavier doesn’t know about. It’s a ‘just in case’. Just in case Klavier leaves him. Just in case he needs to get away fast. Just in case the world ends. It’s not a logical thing, something that he sat down and rationalized doing, it’s just there because it feels better to have it than to not. But that can be kind of hurtful if the other person finds out about it, so. There you go, a whole minefield of money related drama.

2. Apollo’s Abandonment Issues. He’s got them! What do you call and orphan twice over who also lost his very best friend? I don’t know, but if capcom doesn’t stop picking on my boy I’m going to kick them in the teeth. I will still never get over AA6 for telling us that Dhurke took Apollo in when he was orphaned as a baby, then abandoned him in the USA, then came back for him and got his hopes up, and then was actually dead the whole time! Hahahaha! What a trip! 

Anyway, you don’t come back from that super easy. People who suffer this kind of trauma usually have a really hard time trusting others, which is understandable. They also can have unrealistic needs from their partners, become codependent, or even just self-sabotage their relationships, pulling away first to try and avoid the pain because they think the other person will leave them. I think that last one is most likely for Apollo, especially given the disparity in circumstances I mentioned above. If Apollo can’t trust that Klavier actually loves him, can’t trust that he won’t leave him like EVERYONE ELSE HAS, then they can’t have a healthy relationship. Drama.

3. Klavier’s Emotional Trauma. Kristoph is a pretty big jerk to Klavier in the last case of AA4. He criticizes and undermines Klavier, threatens and admits to manipulating him. In the anthology, Klavier shares an “lol so funny!” story about Kristoph accidentally breaking a window while he and Klavier are playing ball. In it, he convinces Klavier that it was his fault and that he should take the blame and apologize for breaking the window! And Klavier does! That’s gaslighting, baby, and since the Anthology is supposed to be canon, we can take that to mean it’s been happening since Klavier was a kid. Think about that. An entire life of gaslighting and manipulative behavior! You don’t come back from that easily, either. 

People who experience emotional abuse can, among other things, suffer from depression and low-self esteem. They need affirmation from their partners and can have a hard time with letting people in or being honest (though not from a malicious mindset—more a “I’m going to say what I think you want to hear because if you’re happy, bad things won’t happen!”). They can also always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. Sure things are good, but when will that end and the bad time start? It’s a self fulfilling prophecy: if all you can do is worry about things going wrong, then you aren’t actually enjoying when things are going right and you will cause the issues you’re so worried about. Drama.

4. Fame. Klavier has been in the spotlight since he was a literal child. If the Gavinners were already hits when Klavier was 17, they likely formed and starred their rise some time before then. A year, maybe two? Klavier spent his formative years in the spotlight. He quite literally doesn’t know any other way. Apollo, on the other hand, has never experienced the kind of scrutiny he’d be subject to when dating someone like Klavier. It can be really stressful and hurtful and just overall not a good time. And I’m not saying that Klavier wouldn’t be sympathetic, but I don’t think he would really understand how difficult it could be to have been thrust into that position out of nowhere, because he’s had years of dealing with it and was in a completely different place in life when it began for him. It’s not unreasonable to think that Apollo might not be able to take it. You can love someone and want to be with them but if you can’t adapt to their lifestyle, it’s not going to work. They could walk away rather than risk what might happen to Apollo if they kept it up. Drama.

5. Careers. They both have very demanding jobs. While sharing a similar profession can mean there’s a mutual understanding, it can also cause issues if you... never get to see each other? Schedules can be out of alignment (which could easily happen; their cases can’t always line up and they seem to require a lot of time investment outside of just normal hours). If Klavier goes back into music, that’s an additional time constraint. Why be in a relationship when you can only see the other person for moments here and there? What about the stress that comes with those jobs? That can cause drama.

6. Klavier looks like Kristoph. They are very different people, yes, but similar enough in some ways that it could cause tension. Maybe Klavier is tired and stressed and snaps at Apollo, and suddenly, all Apollo can see is Kristoph and all he can feel is the uncomfortable churning in his stomach that goes along with the memories of him. Someone he trusted, someone who let him down. That’s a difficult subject to broach, and it can fester like an infected wound if left intended. 

But Apollo sounds like Kristoph sometimes. We saw it in AA5, which is, of course, an extreme circumstance. But it can come out from time to time in other ways. A phrase that slips out, the way he intones certain words, the way he signs off in his emails—little things that are harmless, but can still act as triggers. 

Sometimes you need to get away from things that can remind you of your past in order to work on getting over them. If you are in love with someone who shares a similar trauma, who brings those issues from the past to light frequently just by being themselves, it might not be a healthy situation. I don’t think they would need to throw it in each other’s faces for it to become an issue. Drama.

There are more, but I probably took this more seriously than you intended. Whoops! Anyway, I hope that helps??? Maybe???? I hope you get them back together in the end because they deserve to be happy though!!!!!!!

#LONG POST #shut up krissy #if you want me to cut this please let me know #klapollo

[amethystpath-writes]

Hello!! Once you absolutely crush all of your college assignments, would you like to write this?

So the protag is a healer who works for the big superhero agency(bc capitalism) but protag is very under-appreciated there since protag isn’t a flashy superhero who saves the day. So then villain tries to convince protag to switch sides through emotional manipulation and “I’ll treat you much better than they are” promises

This was kinda confusing to read oops sorry

Anyway I hope you have a wonderful day!!

About that college thing. I’m assuming this was from when I was having problems with my sociology class, and that didn’t get resolved because my professor is...kindly put...not my favorite human on Earth. But thank you for the vote of confidence, hun! Enjoy!

******

Sarah’s chair slammed against the table as she jolted back. “How did you-” Her hand scrambled for a pen or- or something to defend herself with. “But the team went after you. How did you get in here?”

Colter shrugged, hands casually in his pockets as he stood in Sarah’s doorway, which he’d just knocked on to get the healer’s attention. “You know your so-called ‘team’ doesn’t even lock this place up when they leave? They leave you completely exposed.”

Finally, Sarah’s hand found an uncapped pen. She wielded it like a sword and watched as Colter raised a brow. He was right to, she knew. A pen would do nothing against him. A pen didn’t protect against flames. And healing Colter wouldn’t stop his wall of flames, but- but this pen was the only thing she had. She was helpless, except for her pen. “So, they forgot this time. How would they have known you would try to sneak in?”

“I didn’t try- I succeeded. And I didn’t sneak- I walked through the front door. If that doesn’t tell you anything, let me add on; I have been doing this every day, for three weeks.” Colter pushed himself off the door frame and took a step towards the supposed teammate in a group of heroes. He didn’t stop because he was afraid of the plastic ink pen. He stopped because Sarah was obviously scared out of her mind’s wits.

She shook her head. “What do you mean? I’d have known if you were-”

“I stood in your doorway just as I did thirty seconds ago. Only difference is I revealed myself to you this time. Go ahead, check your feed if you don’t believe me.”

Sarah swallowed. “I’m not turning my back to you. I’ve seen what you are capable of. I’m not stupid.”

“Never said you were, but I do think you’ve been blinded by your teammates. How many times have they asked how you are doing? Have they ever brought you a glass or bottle of water because they noticed you weren’t doing so well? They’ve asked about how much sleep you’re getting, right? I’m sure they have. They are your team, yeah? They-”

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop. You’re manipulating me.”

Colter gave a soft huff. “If I were lying, then maybe, but I’m not. I’m caring for you, Sarah.”

“Don’t use my name. Get out. Get out, please.” She noticed her hand was shaking and quickly hid it behind her back hopefully before Colter could notice. “Unless you are here to kidnap me or- or hold me hostage or something- I don’t know. Just, just go.”

Sitting on the floor- yes, the floor- Colter sighed. He saw Sarah shaking before she tried hiding it. This wasn’t working the way he planned, not at all. “Check your feed- because you still don’t believe I have been here the whole time.”

She didn’t respond, only stared at him without saying a word.

“Do you want me to go stand in that corner so you can watch me?”

This time she nodded, but she didn’t move otherwise until Colter stood and walked to the corner on her right like a toddler in time out. It’s what he got for being a villain, he supposed. Though, he thought he was making a good argument. Apparently, it wasn’t good enough, for he was standing in a corner while Sarah hesitantly took a seat in front of her computer.

“It’s sad, isn’t it? That they make you stay here and guard the files? You’re worth more out there, on the field. You guys might even win a fight if you were out there to help as they got hurt instead of after. A shame they keep you hidden because you don’t shoot sparks, or ice, or fly.”

Sarah tried ignoring him while she logged onto her computer, but it was difficult, especially since he was saying all the things she’d been thinking recently. All the late nights she couldn’t sleep, she thought about these things- about how she’s left behind, about how she isn’t helpful enough on the site, about how she was nothing but a pick-me-up when someone was near death, about how she only got a quick ‘Thanks’ when she poured every bit of her abilities into saving one of her teammates, about it all. Maybe she wasn’t useless, but she wasn’t-

“I would appreciate you,” Colter said. “I would make sure you didn’t over-exert yourself. I would let you fight for me. But you know what I wouldn’t do? I wouldn’t leave you at my base with every point of access open to anyone who thought of stepping in, especially when there was a villain on the prowl.”

“You’re the only villain here.”

“Maybe, but consider this for me.” Colter took a breath. “If you know what I’m capable of, and your team knows what I’m capable of, why did they leave you so vulnerable?” He took a step away from his corner without Sarah noticing. Then another, and another, until he was right beside her chair. He said softly, “I wouldn’t do that, okay? Sarah?”

She looked at him, not breathing. When- how had he gotten so close to her?

His head dipped down, gesturing to his hand, which Sarah just now realized was held out. “You think I am going to hurt you, but I’m not. Take my hand, and if it starts to burn, you can take it back.”

Sarah swallowed. “I don’t- you’re not…Why are you even here? What do you want? What is your motive?”

“My motive?” Colter kept his hand held out to Sarah, encouraging her. “I’ve seen the way you’re treated- rather discarded- and I’m offering you my hand. I can give you much more than they ever have, and I could also use a partner.” Seeing the odd look on Sarah’s face, he said, “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. I’m asking you if you’d like to be my friend, since your team clearly hasn’t been one to you.”

Staring at his hand, Sarah considered his words, and considered her own feelings. She knew she wasn’t appreciated that much. It never felt like it, and like Colter pointed out, they never asked her how she was doing- if she ever needed caretaking- whether that was a good nap, a cup of warm tea, or anything, just anything. They returned from missions she wasn’t allowed to go on, and they asked for her help. There was never any return. Sarah might as well slip away; they wouldn’t notice until one of them was bleeding out and had to go to a hospital. She was their medic of convenience. Convenience. Not a friend. Not a teammate. Just a person who lived with them who could make a stopped heart beat again, which meant no extra bills to pay.

Her hand landed on Colter’s and she swallowed for what felt like the twentieth time since he knocked on her doorframe. Now, her hand was touching his and- “You’re cold.” Her other hand touched the opposite side of his.

“Your team turned the heat off, so it didn’t run up the bill. I guess you’re more used to it than I am.”

They turned the heat off every time they left? She didn’t know that. “That- um- explains why my feet are always so cold.” She was talking to Colter, talking to him like he was a friend, not- not the enemy. This wasn’t right, but it felt nice.

“I could warm your hands up if you wanted. I know you’re capable of doing it yourself, but I am the one with, well, heaty hands. Plus, you deserve to have someone help you. Promise I won’t catch them on fire.”

Sarah took her hands back. “N-no.” She still didn’t trust him, but…what was she supposed to do? No one ever talked to her like this, like they actually cared about her or her well-being. No one came to her room to tell her she deserved to be appreciated and recognized and acknowledged. It were these thoughts that made her say, “Not unless I know you can control it.”

He smiled at her. “Put your hands back and pull away when it becomes too hot.”

She shook her head. “I want to see you make a flame and gradually put it out again.”

“Okay. I can do that.” He was running out of time. The team would be back any minute. With that thought in mind, he created a small flame that he commanded to dance around his palm like a figure skater. He shaped it into a dolphin, let in dive into and jump out of his fingers and fingertips. The flame gathered again, hovering above the centre of his hand before slowly falling and fading away. “Go on, touch. Real fast if you’re scared to.”

And Sarah did touch quickly, as if she were testing to see if a burner on a stove was still hot. But Colter’s palm wasn’t. It was chilled just as before. She placed her hand in his once again, and as he began to warm up again, she felt herself slightly panicked, pulling away bit by bit.

As her fingertips nearly fell away entirely, Colter asked, “Lower?”

She nodded. He told her to touch for a final time.

“There,” she said, “that’s warm. That’s perfect.”

“Have your teammates offered you a cup of hot cocoa with vanilla and cinnamon?”

Sarah squinted. “No.” Of course they hadn’t. They never offered her anything.

“May I?”

This was it. This was the decision that would change Sarah’s alliance, change her life, probably. Could she side with the villain? They called him one for a reason…didn’t they? But if that was true, why was he here? Why was he being kind, offering warmth to her when Sarah’s team couldn’t even leave the heat on for her while they were out on a mission, one they’d come back bruised and battered from- while they were out on a mission, one they’d lose because Sarah wasn’t there to help them on site?

Colter asked her, not only to become his teammate, or partner, but to become his friend. He shared an intimacy with her, and still was, as her hands were still being warmed. Was it so bad that she felt comforted by him now?

“I’ll take you up on your offer.”

And so it became- Colter and Sarah, partners in crime and comfort.

( @whatwhumpcomments )

#request fill #hero x villain #hero x villain story #ish #really liked this one #thanks for the request!

[alwaysfeelingsaintlike]

About Time [G.W] - Part 5

pairing: George Weasley x OC

series description: on an unexpected night out, George meets the love of his life. and then suddenly loses her. what lengths will he go to in order to find her?

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @p0gues4l @amourtentiaa @305weasley

series masterlist

“Weasley, for two,” George said to the host. After leaving Gringotts, they had apparated to downtown London to a small wizard-friendly restaurant. They were guided to a small table in the corner of the dimly lit restaurant. There was a flame lit in a jar that was sitting on the table, providing some mood lighting.

The table was small and George’s long legs were so cramped that his knees were gently grazing his date’s.

“This is nice,” she said, looking around the small restaurant. The atmosphere was warm and cozy, which was only enhanced by a man playing guitar and singing cover songs for the patrons.

“Have you been here before?” George asked.

“No, I didn’t know this place existed.”

“Wish I could take credit but Fred recommended it. This is his go-to date spot.”

“And where’s your go-to date spot?” she challenged.

“Eh that would be Dans le Noir,” George replied, referring to the spot where they had shared a meal in complete darkness.

She laughed, “No I’m serious.”

“I don’t think I really have one. Every now and then I’ll take someone to one of the bars in Diagon Alley, but truthfully I don’t go on many dates.”

“That surprises me,” she replied.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re very likable and easy to be around. And you’re not too bad to look at either.”

He blushed ever so slightly, “I think I can get along with anyone, but I’m more interested in finding someone I have a connection with and that’s a bit harder to find.”

“Do you feel like there’s a connection between us?”

“Do you really need to ask that question?” He responded

“Hey, I’m entitled to ask that! As of an hour ago I had no idea you were even interested. This has all been very unexpected.”

“That’s fair. Well for the record, you’re the first person I’ve felt a connection with in a long time.”

She let out a small smile before asking, “So what happened that night?”

George sighed, “I still haven’t been able to figure it out. I think I wasn’t expecting to meet someone like you so it took me by surprise when you were so…incredible. And then I got nervous because I wanted you to like me and I wasn’t myself. That’s never happened to me before.”

“Well don’t let it happen again,” she replied with a smirk. They were briefly interrupted by a waiter who came by to take their orders. Molly continued the conversation, “I want to call you out for taking me on a proper date only after seeing me for the first time but it seems like you had this all planned out.”

“This was one of many plans.”

“Oh yeah? What were the other plans?”

“The original plan was waiting for you to come into the shop, but you didn’t want to cooperate.”

“I thought about it. A few times actually. But I convinced myself that you had someone else in your life, which is why you were so quiet that night. And I thought seeing you might be difficult.”

George hadn’t thought about her perspective before and it made perfect sense. He wasn’t sure what he could say to make things better, and luckily Molly interjected and said, “So how did you get to tonight’s plan?”

“I considered writing to you at the Prophet, but that just seemed so impersonal. And then I thought about just coming to your workplace to ask you out, but that didn’t seem quite right either. And then Fred found the invitation in the mail. I wasn’t positive you would be there, but it seemed like a real possibility. And now here we are.”

“You’re very impressive, you know that?”

“All for you, darling,” Molly blushed at his comment and George called her out, “Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to be all nervous now?”

“Of course not,” she replied.

“Then why are you blushing?”

She smiled, “It’s just nice to be pursued.”

“I have a hard time believing that guys aren’t throwing themselves at you.”

She considered her words carefully, “There are a lot of guys that are interested in sleeping with me, but romance appears to be a bit of a lost art.”

“Lucky for you, I am quite the romantic.”

“I bet you are,” she smiled. The conversation flowed pretty effortlessly and soon they had finished up their meals and were working on the last of their drinks. As George closed out the tab, Molly asked, “Do you want to go for a walk?”

George smiled, “I’d like that.” He finished paying the bill as Molly sucked down her last few sips before they gathered their things and walked out together.

It was a beautiful night, perfect for a walk through the town. George had his hand in his pockets and Molly took this moment to make a move.

“Wow, you aren’t even going to try and hold my hand?” she commented.

George looked at her and smiled, “You didn’t strike me as the PDA type.”

“Normally I’m not, but I’m willing to make an exception for someone special.” He took his hand out of his pocket and scooped up her delicate hand in one swift motion. He quickly interlaced their fingers and swung their hands back and forth. She chuckled at his enthusiasm.

“So I have an idea for our next date,” George said.

“And what makes you think there’s going to be a next date?” she teased.

“Because I know you can’t resist my effortless charm.”

“I won’t confirm or deny that. But hypothetically speaking, what sort of date are you planning?”

“I’m thinking I’ll get us some tickets to the Weird Sisters,” George felt butterflies in his stomach thinking of their first concert experience together.

“So you’re going to wait two weeks before taking me out on another date?” she countered. George was crafting a response but before he could say anything she added, “I’m surprised, I thought this date was going pretty well.”

“Ah so you do want a second date,” he grinned.

“I would like a second date, but please don’t make me wait two weeks. The concert can be our fourth or fifth date.”

“Now Molly, I know you couldn’t possibly be getting attached,” George said.

“Come on now George, you know I’m way too cool to admit to that.”

“Ah, but you also didn’t deny it.” Molly rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile growing on her face.

They continued walking along the cobblestone street, passing by storefronts that were dark and the occasional pub with a boisterous crowd. George didn’t have a destination in mind, but it didn’t matter. He wanted to spend as much time with Molly as he could get.

“So Molly, I know you’re from the States, but whereabouts?” he asked.

“I’m from Chicago.”

“Oh I’ve actually heard of Chicago. And how did you like it?”

“It’s a great city. Part of me thinks I could’ve had a happy life living in Chicago. But I wanted to explore new places and that wasn’t going to happen in my hometown.”

“Well for the record, I’m glad you decided to venture across the pond.”

“And where are you from?”

“I’m from Devon,” he said.

“Oh nice,” Molly replied.

“Are you familiar with Devon?” he asked skeptically.

She shook her head, “Not at all.” George laughed and she added, “Can’t say we learned much European geography in school.”

“So Devon is on the Western coast. It’s close to Cornwall which you may have heard of.”

“Yes, Cornwall I know.”

“Yeah so we’re a bit further north. And our town is rather small, mostly farms. Muggles primarily inhabit the area so we keep to ourselves for the most part.”

“And how did you like that?”

He sighed, “I loved my upbringing, but there’s a reason I moved closer to the city. I needed a little more action and excitement.”

“Now that I understand.”

“What’s your favorite part about London?” he asked.

She thought for a moment, “I love everything about London. I can’t quite put my finger on why. When I first came here when I was younger, I just had a feeling in my stomach that this was where I wanted to be. I’m a very logical person and I had never really experienced a feeling like that. So I followed it and never looked back.”

“Do you think you’ll stay here long term?”

She nodded, “I miss my family terribly and I would love to be closer to home, but I can’t imagine leaving London right now.”

“Well good. I had to make sure you weren’t planning to up and leave.”

“Nah, not my style,” she joked.

At this point, Molly had slowed her walking pace and came to a halt. George took a few steps ahead and turned around.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked.

“Well we’ve reached our destination,” she said. He looked at her with a puzzled look. “This is my apartment,” she said, directing her attention to the window situated on top of the teashop where they were currently standing.

“Did you just trick me into walking you home?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Maybe,” she smirked. “But I’m hoping you’ll come upstairs with me for a nightcap.”

Molly noticed him perk up ever so slightly as a small smile spread across his face. “I couldn’t possibly turn that down.” Molly smiled and gently dropped his hand as she fished her keys out of her pocket. They walked up the narrow staircase that led to her tiny one bedroom apartment. Before unlocking the door, Molly pulled out her wand and muttered a quick spell that George recognized to be a charm to tidy up.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting company tonight,” she explained.

“Does that mean you’re messy normally?” he challenged.

“Well...it's more clutter than anything. Does that…bother you?”

“Not at all. I’m one of six dear, I’m used to clutter.”

Molly sighed with relief as she opened the door to her magically cleaned apartment. It was kitschy and cramped, yet very comfortable.

“Make yourself at home,” she smiled, as she walked over to the bar cart to pour a couple firewhiskeys. George took off his suit jacket and laid it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. He slipped off his shoes and placed them neatly by the front door. Molly padded over barefoot to the couch and George followed with ease.

“Cheers,” she said, as they clinked glasses. Molly took a generous sip from her glass to combat her nerves. She hadn’t expected any of this and she was surprised at how bold she had acted around George. She liked him and she was sure about that, but she wasn’t quite sure what her next move was.

Molly placed her glass on the coffee table and slid in a little bit closer to George. “Thank you for tonight,” she said genuinely, as she placed a delicate hand on his leg.

“Thank you for giving me a chance,” he replied. George shifted and put his arm around her shoulders. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.

“I had a wonderful time with you.”

“Can I take you out again next week?”

Molly simply nodded and smiled at him. George sighed and cupped her cheek. “Have I told you how absolutely stunning you are?”

Molly giggled and said, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“It’s the truth, I’m not just saying that.”

She blushed, “I didn’t think you were. Your eyes said it all.”

“Now that is not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“My eyes say it all yet your eyes aren’t giving me anything,” he joked.

“Really? You aren’t getting the message that I’m trying to send you?”

“You’re going to have to try harder darling because I’m not getting anything.”

“Oh, you know what…I’m better at sending messages with my lips than my eyes,” she flirted.

“Is that so?”

“Only one way to find out.”

That was all the encouragement George needed. He leaned in towards Molly, planning to tease her a little but as soon as he felt her breath he couldn’t help himself. He gently placed his hand on the back of her neck and through her hair as his lips connected with hers.

The electricity was unlike anything he had ever felt before. If he thought she was the one before, now he was certain.

“Wow,” she breathed, catching her breath for a moment.

“That good, huh?” George joked.

“Can we do that again?” Molly asked, tugging on George’s tie.

“As you wish,” he said, enveloping her lips in his. It wasn’t long before the two were horizontal on the couch. Molly felt like a giddy teenager and couldn’t get enough of George. His musky scent was driving her wild.

George slowly kissed up her neck to her ear, where he nibbled on her ear lobe. That set her over the edge.

“We should…move to the bedroom,” Molly suggested.

George popped up to look at her, “Are you sure?”

Molly nodded enthusiastically, “I’m sure.” George stood and scooped up Molly in his arms as she giggled and he carried her into the bedroom where the festivities would continue.

X

“Wow,” George said, as he collapsed in bed next to Molly.

“Wow is right,” she said, struggling to catch her breath. She curled into George’s chest as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“I never do this,” Molly stated.

“Well you could’ve fooled me,” he said.

She lightly smacked him on the chest. “I’m not talking about sex,” she chuckled, “I mean that I never bring guys home on the first date.”

“Technically that was our second date, love.”

“Okay well I don’t usually bring guys home on the second date either.”

“Are you trying to tell me you like me?” he joked.

She laughed and said, “I’m trying to tell you that you’re special.”

George felt fuzzy inside. This was the first time that she had been direct with him about her feelings. He was starting to see a future with her.

“So what are we going to do tomorrow?” he asked.

“We could go to brunch…or we could make some breakfast here. And then if it’s nice we could go for a walk in the park. If it’s not nice we can go see a movie.”

“All I want is to spend the day with you darling.”

“Will you take me to your shop tomorrow?” she asked.

“You want to see the shop?” he looked at her with a smile.

She nodded, “I want to learn everything about you.”

George kissed her temple and pulled her in closer to him. “I would love nothing more than to share that with you.”

Molly smiled and pecked him a few times on the lips. She turned and pulled George around her so they were spooning. George kissed her shoulder and wished her good night as she drifted off to sleep.

George was soothed by her steady breathing and felt himself grow tired, but his mind was reeling which was preventing him from falling asleep. He couldn’t believe how perfectly things had gone and that his patience had actually paid off. His instincts were spot on and he knew that this girl was the one for him. George recognized that they were in the early stages of something special, but he knew he had found his soul mate.

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