#i haven’t checked if i breathed since getting this fucking confirmation page

[kenneth-omega]

good morning girlies i hope you’re all doing well, i am thriving💅, my hair is lush and healthy💁🏻‍♀️, i’m flourishing🌸✨, just in my lane🧖‍♀️, going to see all my husbands and wifeys in august 💍💍💍🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

#i’m actually feral #going mad #screaming #crying and shaking #throwing up #nauseated but surviving #living and dying #i haven’t checked if i breathed since getting this fucking confirmation page #we ALL IN BITCHES #wrestling #aew #all elite wrestling #aew all in #all in #all in 2023 #*kingthirsts

[jiinxxxed]

alexa...play cybersex by dojacat..

MINORS DNI 18+

miya atsumu x f!reader

genre: smut, camgirl au, college au

content warnings: 18+, cam girl/college au, mutual masturbation(m/f), sex toy, deepthroathing(?? i guess), cam-girl reader, fingering, voyeurism, spitting, cat-ears mentioned(i was going to use the cat ears but i forgot that i mentioned them in the halfway of writing so.. reader just wears cat-ears but that's it lol )(let me know if i missed any warnings)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: i want to write a part 2 for this, so please let me know if you would be interested lol i am nervous hope you'll enjoy!!

“Hey, have ya guys checked this website? www…”

Atsumu’s phone rings with a new message from the group chat. His teammates are apparently going crazy with the live-cam website that went viral on social media. He drops his physics assignment he’s been working on, just to see what makes his friends go crazy like that.

“Atsumu you have to see this one, I KNOW this is your type. “www…'' Sakusa teases him through group chat. He is kinda irritated, but deep inside he also knows he’s excited to see what Sakusa recommended to him. With a soft touch on the screen an excessively pink website appears in front of him. He walks up to the door to make sure no one interrupts him, with a single click the door locks.

Atsumu starts to explore the page then, and for his luck, cam-girl’s live in a few minutes.

Meanwhile, in your room, you desperately look for the mask you always put on before streams. You already know you’re screwed once your identity is found out. You take your physics assignment off the floor, and from there your dear mask is glowing like a saviour. You hurriedly put on your mask, make your last preparations before pushing the tiny button on your camera’s right corner.

You’re live.

Cam-girl’s live.

Atsumu sucks in a breath once he sees the girl in black matching underwear on his screen. He shamelessly observes the curvy outlines of your thighs, going upper at your smooth waist line. It hasn’t been more than one minute since the live stream started but, Atsumu is already having a hard time trying to control his feeling of arousal. You don’t talk ever in your live streams, you think it’s better to give people what they expect and get in the business without much unnecessary chit-chat. You reach out to your cat-ears letting out a sigh, using the camera as a mirror you place the ears on top of your head, doing it all in slow motion while pouting your lips as you get close to the camera.It doesn’t take a genius to know what people like, and you can see the increasing amount of donations and messages as you perform to your confirmation. So you decide to stay there a bit more. Shoving your thin finger into your mouth, you keep your eye contact on the camera. In and out, in and out..corner of your lips go upwards as you keep shoving and letting out soft moans to the mic.

You add another finger, and then another, sucking and licking them as you fuck your mouth with your own fingers, and while doing that adding soothing purring sounds to the spice.

Atsumu knows you haven’t even started, the lust in your eyes clearly shows even if your face is mostly covered with the mask. What’s bad is that even if you haven’t started, Atsumu doesn’t know if he will last until you do. His growing bulge is starting to irritate him, so he gets rid of his bothersome pants.

With a pop sound you take your fingers out of your mouth, but in fact your show is not over yet. This time you shove only two fingers in, right deep in your throat, rolling your eyes backwards as you arch your neck backwards as well. Atsumu waits for a specific sound, the one that people usually make once you force something on to their throats. His strokes on his cock slows down so he can clearly hear you. And yet, no sound other than your breath reaches him. Which confirms your lack of gag reflex. This realization causes him a tighter hold on his cock, “Did she just…fuck..” Up and down, with an increasing acceleration his motions follow yours’. Keeping your eyes right on the middle of the camera, as if you were eye to eye with him, asserting your dominance through the glass screen. As if you were next to him, he couldn’t dare to take his eyes off of yours. Keeping the contact you stepped back, allowing your whole body to be seen on the screen. Touching your body, putting your hands on your waist and caressing your body following up until your tiddies.

He feels edged because of your slow and seductive movements. You know you’re playing with your audience, and this feeling of control feeds your unresolved goddess complex. You take a great look at yourself through the camera, making sure you’re presenting your body as irresistible as you feel.

Turning your back, you bend forward, because it’s time to step up this game and spice this play a little up. The bed is positioned right in front of your camera, you make millimetric calculations to make sure you can present all of your alluring body through a perfect angle to a whole screen. Arching yourself to your front, reaching out under the bed to take your pretty toys out, while doing so making sure your adorable black panties are presented in a way that shows the even darker colored hole appeared where your pretty pussy’s at.

You straighten your body slowly as you take the pink dildo in your hand, with a cute little run you come back closer to your camera. With a smiling face, you put forward your luscious toy.

Sticking your tongue out, positioning your mouth even downer, so you can lick all the way up. As your tongue makes its way on the toy, you keep your eyes on your camera, on him. And he follows you, as he matches his movements to yours. His eyes are fixated on where your mouth is, and for that moment he uses all his strength to imagine it’s your glistening tongue on his cock instead of his hands. You go faster, taking it all in your mouth. He spits in his palm for more of a sensation as you bob your head up and down, and you let your free right hand down your pussy. Making small circles on your clit makes you let out breathy moans to the dildo you’re sucking. You stop moving your head, and so he stops, and watches you as you replay that party trick you just presented. You push your head forward until you feel the tip touching deep in your throat.

With a last sucking on the toy, you decide to make a real show. Tossing the toy aside, you position yourself back on your bed, spreading your legs wide open. Your camera captures the insides of your black little underwear, and so he does. His eyes wide open as he unashamedly examines your glistening pussy covered in tiny clothing. You caress the wet hole on the cloth.

“This bitch is getting the way isn’t it?” you mumble, as you take it off. You don’t realize you’re talking, which you really be careful about in your streams. Full focus drawing rhythmed circles on your clit, and this time he can have a full view of yours. Hearing your voice made his experience even better. One hand keeps the rhythm as the other explores your body, groping your titties. Letting out delicate sounds, going straight to Atsumu’s dick. He knows he is close, yet still mesmerized by your sight he keeps in sync with you.

You slip a finger in, and then another, yet your index finger keeps its moves on your clit. You’re no longer soft with your moans, you’re enjoying yourself and you want him to know that. His groans are getting stronger, you arch your back as you get faster with your movements. As you get close, you no longer let out soft moans; instead, you squeak, as if you’re so close but can never reach it to the end. And then you finish, rolling your eyes backward and a drool leaking out your mouth. You would call this ugly, yet thousands just jerked off to that view of yours. Atsumu could swear he saw a halo on top of your head at that moment you finished, totally captivated by the scenery. He finishes with you, cums so hard surprises himself. He just jerked off, to a cam-girl his friend sent. And he enjoyed it, way too much.

You wave a last goodbye to your viewers, as a way to end the stream. As you reach out to the computer to end the stream, your camera loses its balance, falls right on the assignment you earlier put on. It just takes a mere second, you end the stream as fast as you can, hoping that last scene won’t take any serious attention.

And yet, he notices. He recognizes. Recognises the red-marked physics assignment he delivered today, to the awkward girl in his department. “..No way that’s her, right?..” Atsumu, the class representative, who the physics professor has assigned to deliver the marked papers especially to you. He recognized your paper as soon as he saw that one millisecond of your shot of desk. As he realizes, he stands in shock, could it really be, the weird girl that talks to no one, could she be the hot cam-girl he just jerked off to?

You take a soothing bath thinking about the money you’ve made today, and get ready to have a peaceful sleep, with no single clue that Atsumu now knows who you really are.

#atsumu smut #atsumu miya smut #miya atsumu smut #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader smut #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu atsumu miya #hq atsumu miya #ash.fics

[ragingbookdragon]

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 5

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST. AND MORE TO COME! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @edlothia-baby @soul-end @willieoo @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy

Author's Note: I have nothing to say for any of the emotions y'all are about to get from this. Enjoy!-Thorne

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she sat down, but the stretching silence growing between her and her estranged family wasn’t it. She tried to look anywhere but them, not because she was ashamed—far from it. But it was more than awkward sitting across from three brothers and a father she’d not spoken to in three years, let alone tell them she was even alive.

Her eyes found Wally’s as he sat down beside her eldest brother and if looks could’ve killed, he’d been dead and buried.

“Glare at me all you want, but I’m not going to apologize,” he shrugged.

Scowling, she turned her attention to the skyline. “Fuck you,” she spat, crossing her arms.

“At least talk to them, (Y/N).”

“And why should I, Wally?” she questioned, glaring at him. “I don’t have anything to say. If I did, I wouldn’t be here in Central.”

“You’re not leaving until you talk to them,” he finalized with a firm look and she growled low in her throat and resigned herself to her fate.

Her eyes darted to her father’s and she couldn’t for the life of her decipher what was in them. “I’ll talk for an hour,” she told him. “I’m not talking about what I’ve been doing in Central City, so don’t ask. I’m not talking about the life I’ve been living, so don’t ask. You’re only allowed to ask me about my departure and that’s it. But after one hour is up, I’m leaving.”

“Who said you get to leave,” Wally questioned, and she shot him the darkest glower she could muster.

“So help me God, Wally West you’ll either take me home or you’ll fix that fucking elevator and I’ll walk myself home. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world who every vigilante is at this table.”

For once she managed to stump him because his eyes went wide—so did her family’s but she didn’t care—and he finally nodded.

“Alright. One hour.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she turned back to her family, more specifically her father. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe for you to come home, (Y/N),” Jason answered, and she glanced to him.

“Not a chance. Next?”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be hostile. We’re not going to force you here,” Dick said, and she looked at him now, eyes narrowing.

“The manipulation tactic isn’t going to work on me, Dick. I’m not here for to be tricked into coming back. I’m never coming back.” She cocked her leg over the side of the table and reclined, biting out, “Give me your anger. I’d prefer that instead of whatever this pitiful bullshit you’ve got going on.”

In the eighteen years they’d known their sister they’d never heard her say such a callous thing, but her words had practically slapped Dick across the face because hurt etched onto his expression, then immediately turned into anger.

“You want my anger? Fine.” He stood and pointed at her. “What the hell is wrong with you! Why would just up and disappear like you did! Do you have any idea how scared we were for you! How distraught!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Knowing how you like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders because you can’t help but be a hero? Probably a lot.” She made a dramatic show of looking at her watch. “You’ve got forty minutes. Keep it up.”

Her eyes shifted to Bruce’s. “Did you let them read the letter? Or did you just throw it away after you read it?”

Dick, Jason, and Tim all turned to Bruce at that.

“Letter?” Tim repeated. “What letter?”

(Y/N)’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape and then she smiled knowingly. “Oh, you never showed them the letter, did you?” She looked to her brothers. “I wrote dad a letter the night I left to explain why I was leaving. It’s sugarcoated bullshit but it is the truth.”

Dick’s face contorted in anger. “(Y/N) left a reason behind and you didn’t tell us about it? Three years and not a single word?”

Bruce merely stared at her as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. “I was going to burn it when I found her again. Talk to her before anyone else could.”

Jason snatched the letter from his hands. It had faded a bit, softened around the hard edges, like someone had opened it and read it every day for three years.

His eyes scanned the paper, and he met her gaze, voice chock-full of hurt and she had to fight tooth and nail to keep herself from externally reacting. “You left because you thought we didn’t care about you?”

Dick reached over and took the letter. With furrowed brows and a frown, he started to read aloud, and Bruce gazed at (Y/N) as the memory came back to him.

***

Mornings at the manor were unusually quiet in comparison with the evenings. Everyone was typically too tired to argue so it accounted for a peaceful breakfast of soft words and chewing. Everyone had an assigned seat and every child had learned early on not to take the seat that belonged to another brother or their sister because there would be a fight about it.

Dick and Jason sat next to each other and (Y/N) took the seat at the end of that side; Tim and Damian took the other side—oldest to youngest, just the neat and even way Bruce liked it.

It was rare for any of the boys to be awake before him or Alfred and (Y/N) was usually the first kid to the table, the boys wandering in just minutes after her. Oddly enough, that morning she hadn’t come down for breakfast—which she always came to.

Bruce looked at Alfred. “Is (Y/N) coming down?”

Alfred hummed and gently maneuvered Tim’s arm to the side to he could set down the plate. “When I went to her door, it was locked, and I received no conversation from inside.”

Jason snorted and sipped his coffee. “Probably had a long night with her friends and is still out. I know I would be.”

“How would you know?” Tim interrupted. “You died before you got to the eleventh grade.”

“You’re one to talk, dropout,” Dick countered, and Damian sighed.

“Richard, you dropped out of college. The only son of Batman who has actually completed an entire bout of schooling is me.”

The three boys turned on him with scowls and retorted, “No one asked you, pipsqueak.” Damian glared back at them.

Bruce rolled his eyes, using the side of his fork to cut into his omelet. “Let’s try not to start a free-for-all here in the breakfast room, please.” He glanced at Alfred. “She’s probably tired from all the ceremonies. Let her sleep.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course, Master Bruce. She should be well rested this evening.”

But when the evening came, Alfred still hadn’t been able to get (Y/N) to unlock her bedroom nor speak to him. He certainly wasn’t worried, but it was off for her to be so reclusive. When Bruce and the boys came back from patrol, he mentioned it to him.

“Miss (Y/N) hasn’t come out from her bedroom, Master Bruce. Nor has she said a single word all day.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed and he tugged the cowl off, rising from the seat at the Batcomputer. “I’ll go check on her,” he replied. “You deal with…” his steel eyes drifted to Dick who had Tim in a headlock and Jason who was giving Damian a noogie. “Them,” he finalized, leaving the poor butler behind.

He knocked on the door to her room and pressed his ear to it. “(Y/N)? You haven’t come out all day. Is everything alright?”

Nothing. Not even a breath.

“(Y/N), are you in there?” he asked again and when he didn’t receive a confirmation, he raised his arm, running his fingers along the doorframe until he touched a small metal piece. He pulled it down and stuck it in the door, wiggling the knob for a second before it clicked, and he opened the door.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been trying to—” Bruce went silent when he saw the kempt room. Bed neatly made, everything organized and put away. Even her clothes hamper was empty.

He blinked and walked into the room, quickly heading to the bathroom to check for her there. It was empty as well, and just as clean, leaving him stunned as he exited the bath.

Wandering over to her desk, he saw an elegant envelope sitting on top of her laptop, his name written in beautiful penmanship. He picked it up and unfolded it, pulling out the multi-page letter. He drew his eyes along the golden lines, reading her words.

Dad,

I don’t really know how to start this letter. Truth be told I’ve written at least six before this one, and even then, I’m not entirely happy with it. But if you’re reading this, I’m not here anymore. I haven’t hurt myself in anyway, you don’t need to worry about Vicki Vale or Jack Ryder reporting the discovery of my body. I mean it in a literal sense—I’m not in Gotham anymore. Neither am I ever coming back.

Don’t think this is your fault. You’re a good father, the best I could’ve been given, and my brothers are good siblings. But the truth is that I’m not fit for this family of heroes. And I never have been. My best when trying to be what all of you are, was never good enough and I’ve spent eighteen years staring at your backs, waiting for you all to realize that I’m still here, that I still matter even if I’m not like you. And I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home any longer.

I don’t want you to look for me. I know you will, but I wish you wouldn’t. This isn’t some spur of the moment thing I decided to do the night after graduation. If you look at my bank records, I’ve been withdrawing cash from my savings since freshman year—this is four years of planning, so please understand that I’m doing this because I don’t want to be found—ever.

I’ll leave the story for the media up for you, though I doubt that they’ll care long enough to make a deal of it. It’ll pass like winter does spring and they’ll move on to the next bigger story.

Thank you for everything dad, and good luck with Gotham—keep it safe like you always have. And I hope that one day when you think of me, you won’t feel disappointment. I’ve only ever tried to be something that when you looked down on me, you’d only be proud, and I hope one day I’ll achieve what I always dreamed about. Eighteen is young to be on your own and I’m scared. But I’ll be okay—I always have been.

So do me a favor and don’t spend too much time over this. There are plenty more younger kids that need a parent’s hand on their backs to steady them like you once did for me. Find one and fill my spot. Let them shine brighter than I ever could. Let them be the one worthy to be a Wayne—I know I never was.

-(Y/N)

Bruce barely had time to grasp the back of her chair to keep himself from falling to his knees in shock. The letter was clenched in his hand and his lungs wouldn’t take in air like he wanted them to, his heart aching with each palpitation. He looked around the room to her dresser drawers, willing the strength into his legs to moved over to it. He opened every drawer and to his astonishment, they were empty. Hurrying to the bathroom, he noticed the drawers in there were empty as well. She was really gone. And he had no idea what to do.

***

Tears were in Dick’s eyes when he finished the letter and he looked up at her. “How could you ever think we didn’t care about you, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to sit there and explain every time she asked her brothers if they wanted to do something with her and they conveniently had something else to do. Didn’t want to explain every school and extracurricular performance that went unattended and left a little girl standing in front of a crowd barely managing to stave off the tears as she bowed and thanked them for coming. She didn’t want to remember all the memories that chipped away at her heart with every disappointment that occurred. All she wanted to do was leave.

(Y/N) had earlier returned to her original position, hands in her lap and she clenched her fists until her nails bit into the skin of her palms, eyes directed anywhere but Dick’s.

“I think it’s time we call this little reunion done,” she said, standing to her feet. “We’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Not if you run again,” Jason muttered, unconsciously wiping a tear from his eye.

She pointed at him, hissing, “I didn’t run the first time, Jason. I left. On my own accord.”

“You ran instead of coming to us, (Y/N),” Tim said, and she threw her hands above her head in disbelief.

“What the fuck did you want me to do! Wander down into the cave and beg at your feet for someone to pay attention to me! To at least pretend like I was a sister! I did! Every day!”

(Y/N) picked up her purse and yanked it up her arm. “Cassandra seems to be fitting in better than I did. So go and dote on her as the younger sibling. I’m not interested in the position anymore.”

“It’s not a competition,” Dick explained. “We love you just as much as we love Cass.”

She paused and gazed at him, voice laced with disappointment as she disagreed, “Then you should make sure she’s content in the manor, because if you love her with any semblance of how you loved me? It’s not at all.”

Her eyes shifted to Wally’s. “Fix the elevator. Now.”

He stayed seated for a moment, the two of them staring each other down, then he nodded wordlessly and moved to the elevator, starting it again. Her family stayed seated, and she gave them one final look before she followed Wally, silently waiting for the doors to open.

When they did, she stepped inside and turned around, hitting the button. Just before the doors closed, Wally stopped them and murmured, “You’re making a mistake.”

“My worst mistake was becoming friends with you.” (Y/N) blinked at him, then reached up and shoved his hand away from the door and as it closed, she remarked coldly, “And you can go to hell for all I care.”

#batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily #batsis x batfam #batsis x batfamily imagines #batsis x batfamily imagine #batsis imagines #batsis imagine #batsis #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #dc comics #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team,  and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it’s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.” 

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @missmiimiie @stateofgracious @mooons-isabelle @doilooklikeiknow

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #dr. ethan ramsey

[vennilavee]

stormy skies

pairing: levi x reader, and baby kaiya

summary: it’s not the first time you’re home late from work.

word count: ~2260

warnings: a shitty boss, some cursing

a/n: wrote this because i couldnt sleep last night due to the current us election... enjoy

***

Levi peeks his head into Kaiya’s bedroom, and sees her fast asleep in her bed. She’s surrounded by pillows, her lion stuffed animal, as well as her butterfly, shark, and flower pillow. It’s been about an hour since she fell asleep for her afternoon nap. 

He thought he heard a noise on the baby monitor, but it was nothing. Just her shifting in bed.

Her face is squished into the pillow and Levi can’t help the small upturn of his lips at the sight.

Kaiya’s already almost two years old, and neither you nor Levi can quite believe it. Levi claims that she’s the spitting image of you, but you claim the opposite.

You’re both right.

Levi’s career allows for him to work from home for most days. You and Levi had spent the better part of two weeks setting up his office, back when you had first moved into your new home. Before Kaiya was born. He has two monitors on his mahogany desk, a sleek keyboard and an even sleeker mouse with his laptop plugged into the dock.

A photo of you and a photo of Kaiya sits next to the monitor on the left, and a photo of the three of you next to the monitor on the right. The baby monitor is in front of him, just in case Kaiya wakes up before she is supposed to.

He’s eager for Kaiya to wake up and for you to come home, and he puts his glasses on to get to work and hopefully end his day early.

***

Levi shoves a hand in his hair, expelling a deep sigh as he logs out of work. He stretches his arms and his legs, only to be alerted by a slight vibration from his phone.

It’s a text from you:

angel: gonna be late today… levi: again? angel: yes :(

Levi sighs to himself, waiting a few seconds before replying.

levi: ok, be safe 

It’s the third time this week, and he’s lost count of how many times you’ve come home late over the last few weeks. At first, it hadn’t bothered him. But then it became a habit. And then Kaiya was asking for you during dinner.

That was the first of a few fights. They usually ended with you promising that you’d be better about it and draw the boundaries you needed to draw.

And yet… 

Levi hears Kaiya waking up on the baby monitor, her soft coos and calls of ‘daddy’ and ‘mommy’ nearly echoing in the silent room. He turns the monitor off and walks upstairs to her bedroom, where he finds her sitting up. Her smile is sleepy and she makes grabby hands for him with her stuffed lion tucked under her arm.

“Daddy,” She beams at him.

“Slept well, Kai?” Levi asks and she doesn’t reply, instead tucking her face into his neck. Levi brushes his lips over her forehead as he carries her downstairs. She’s still warm from her nap, grey eyes blinking sleepily. 

Levi gets started on dinner with Kaiya on his hip and feeds her spoonfuls of sauce and bits of meat here and there, which she accepts eagerly. She smiles widely with her nose scrunched when she likes it. You’d claim that her smile is identical to Levi’s, but he disagrees.

He’d tell you that everything good about Kaiya comes from you.

Levi gets lost in his thoughts of you, wondering if you’re on your way home. He’s having trouble remembering the last time you both had gone to bed together without the melancholy of your work schedule hanging over your head.

He sighs. Kaiya hears him and looks up curiously.

“Daddy?” Kaiya says, patting his cheek, “Mama?”

“Mama’s comin’ home late, kid,” Levi says, “Again. Do you miss her?”

Kaiya lets out a sigh suspiciously similar to his.

“Yeah. Me too, kid.”

***

By the time you come home, it’s well past dinnertime. Levi had left out a plate for you, but by now, it’s cold. You kick your heels off and place them in the closet neatly, grimacing at the covered plate on the dinner table and your empty living room.

You can almost taste Levi’s disappointment. But you just want to see Kaiya, you know she’ll be able to cheer you up.

What a shitty day. Shitty week. Shitty month. With every day that goes by, you’re getting closer and closer to telling your boss to shove his foot up his ass. 

You immediately head into Kaiya’s bedroom, where you’re certain Levi is telling her a bedtime story. You’re not even sure what time it is- is she asleep? Are you too late?

You hate bringing the smell of work home, preferring to change into comfy clothes before greeting Kaiya and Levi with a kiss. But you can’t wait, not tonight. Not when you know that Levi is upset with you and when you miss Kaiya so much that you ache.

“Kaiya?” You whisper, “Kaiya, baby?”

“Mama!” Kaiya squeals, looking up from the book that Levi’s reading to her, “Hi, mama!”

You kneel next to her bed and open your arms for a hug. She jumps into your arms happily and you kiss her cheeks and her forehead as she giggles wildly.

“I missed you, baby,” You mumble, holding her close, “So much.”

You pull away and cup her cheeks tenderly, rubbing with your thumb. Kaiya only looks at you with the same disarming silver eyes that belong to Levi. Her eyes are soft when she looks at you, her grin bright and toothy.

“Daddy, story,” Kaiya says, pointing to Levi.

“Can mama join?” You ask quietly, looking at Levi.

“Don’t be stupid. Of course mama can join,” Levi murmurs, patting the spot next to him.

You don’t even admonish him for saying ‘stupid’ in front of your daughter and he says nothing about you wearing your work clothes in his daughter’s bed.

You kiss the corner of Levi’s mouth, taking his hand in his as he continues to read to Kaiya. He squeezes your hand every so often, listening to the way Kaiya gasps and giggles at the story. Levi doesn’t tell the story with much fanfare or gusto- he tells it just the way Kaiya likes. With the always present dry intonation of his voice.

You think it’s Kaiya’s favorite sound in the world.

Kaiya points at the picture in the book and giggles, looking up at you for confirmation that you can see what she’s pointing at. You hold her hand and laugh with her too, melting at the way her smile holds your world in it.

After a few more pages and a few more laughs, Kaiya begins to grow tired. She rests her head against your arm, stifling a yawn. You rub her back to lull her into sleep but she tries to stay awake.

“Are you sleepy, Kaiya baby?” You coo, kissing her forehead.

She doesn’t reply, instead closing her eyes. It only takes a few more forehead kisses and back rubs for her to fall into deep sleep. You smile at Kaiya and look at Levi, offering him a small smile as well.

“Did you eat?” Levi asks, nudging your shoulder and gesturing for you to get up.

“No, I put it in the fridge. Not really hungry. Just want to be with you and Kaiya,” You murmur.

Levi gives you a long stare and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t be stupid. Go eat. I know you probably haven’t eaten since noon. Because of your shitty boss,” Levi says pointedly.

You sigh, heading into your bedroom to change out of your work clothes and wash up before heading downstairs.

He doesn’t join you.

You eat quickly, somewhere halfway between enjoying and savoring all of the flavors and barely chewing so that you can go upstairs to talk to Levi. You wash the dishes in the sink quickly before double checking the locks and heading to your bedroom.

Levi’s in bed, reading a book and casts a look of acknowledgement to you. It feels odd, devoid of his usual affections. You know why. Because he’s upset with you.

You curl next to him, cupping his cheek to get him to look at you. Levi sighs heavily and casts his book on the nightstand.

“Your job is fuckin’ shitty,” Levi says without missing a beat, “Kaiya misses you. A lot.”

I miss you. A lot. The words hang in the air.

“I know, I’m sorry. I hate it,” You whisper, crumbling under his scorching gaze, “I didn’t want-”

“So? What are you gonna do about it?” Levi asks flatly, voice full of ice, “It’s your dream job, right?”

It unnerves you.

“Levi,” You say hollowly, “Don’t be like that-”

“Not bein’ like anything,” Levi says easily, “Your daughter fuckin’ misses her mama. This is the first time you’ve tucked her into bed properly in who knows how long- she asks for you all the time, always asking for her mama. And where is her mama? At work-”

“Levi,” You beg quietly, “Levi, stop-”

“How many times are we going to have this conversation?” Levi says hotly. You raise your eyebrows when you hear the emotion in his voice. He’s clearly been thinking this for quite some time.

“I’m sorry,” You plead, taking his hands in yours.

He pulls them away from you and your lips part in a surprised ‘o’. You’re quickly confronted with how much you’ve been hurting him.

“Levi, I’m gonna fix it. I swear- I’m gonna fix it, I’ve already talked to my boss a-and told him I can’t do this anymore-” You blubber, tears forming in your eyes.

“Can’t do what anymore?”

“The late nights-”

“Yeah, they’ll stop for what? A week? Then start back up again,” Levi scoffs coldly, “You promised you’d fix this. So fix this.”

“Levi- stop,” You mumble, “You’re being mean-”

You can’t help it- you start to cry harder, fat tears pool in your dark eyes and roll down your cheeks, as your bottom lip trembles. You let out a loud sob and turn away from him, not able to meet his eyes. Levi blinks at you, almost nervously. 

“Shit,” Levi says under his breath, “Shit-”

He wipes your tears from your cheeks and pulls you into his chest, his chin over your head. His arms are tight around you, heartbeat lulling you into calm. Neither of you say anything for a few minutes, despite the apology on the tip of his tongue.

Levi hates seeing you cry, especially when he is the cause of your tears. But he knows, even if his words were cruel, the problem still exists.

It takes a few minutes for you to breathe and for your sobs to reduce to sniffles. 

“I’m trying, baby,” You mumble, “I told him I need to scale back. But- he’s just so, fucking-“

And then you start to cry again. Levi wonders if there’s more to it than you’ve been saying. He wonders if there’s more of a problem than just late nights. Levi rubs your cheek with his thumb, giving you a few more minutes to gather your thoughts.

“Is something else going on?” Levi asks, most of the heat gone from his voice.

You’re quiet again, looking up at him. Trying to figure out how to allow the words to bubble up and leave your throat.

“What is it, angel?” He asks, cupping your chin for you to meet his eyes.

“He’s just so,” You sigh, “He’s so… mean. He talks down to me sometimes when we have group meetings- and I don’t even realize until the meeting’s been said and done. God, I hate what a boys club it is there. 

Oh, and his favorite is that one guy who always steals credit for the work that I do- and he said he’d dock my bonus if I didn’t start picking up the slack, but I am, I’m picking up everyone’s fuckin’ slack and all I’m good at doing is hurting you and hurting Kaiya- and I n-never wanted to be like that. 

I never wanted to be the person who put their career in front of their family. I should be able to have both, but not- not like this.” Your rant ends with a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

“Angel,” Levi breathes, kissing your forehead, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought I could handle it,” You mutter honestly, “But I can’t. I need to get out, Levi.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Levi says, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You didn’t. It’s okay, I get it. I get it.”

“I should’ve helped you. Not yelled at you.”

“How could you know? I didn’t say anything,” You scoff, slipping your hand under his shirt to rub his chest. You missed him, and this.

“Thought we said no secrets,” Levi says lightly, “No more. We’ll figure it out.”

“‘M not working for most of next week. I need a break,” You say, pressing yourself closer to Levi.

“Good. We’ll figure it out, alright?” Levi says and squeezes your hand. He dips his head for a kiss, and you can taste the sweetness of his unsaid apology.

“You, me and Kaiya?” You ask with a small smile.

Levi nods, quelling your fears with a series of featherlight kisses that deepen quickly. His hands wander your ribcage, holding you close and warming you up from within. Silver eyes melt into your brown, and you’re reassured by his steady strength.

You’ll be okay. You, him and Kaiya. You’ll be okay.

tags: @simpingmaize

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #snk x reader #levi fluff #dad levi #aot x reader

[thedistantdusk]

Arcadia, Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who followed along! Things are heating up with this chapter! Most of the referenced triggers from chapter 1 apply in this chapter specifically. Here's the link to chapter 2, if you're just seeing this now :)

Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @remedialpotions, @jamezbot, @jenoramaca, @not-steve42, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey... god, I'm forgetting people, and I'm sorry! But you're all amazing <3

___________________________

D A Y + T H R E E

As fate would have it, Ginny wakes before 0-700.

Not that she sleeps.

Nightmares, the likes of which she hasn’t experienced in years, torment her throughout the night. They leave her scared. Miserable. Guilty. Around 3 AM, she finally reaches for her Dreamless Sleep potion with shaking hands. For more reasons than one, she’s pleased that Harry’s slept on the couch.

She knows now just how stupid this entire mission truly was. The longer she analyzes it, the more she accepts that her bloody pride got her here in the first place. A chance for a promotion, however small, gave her false confidence in her ability to disregard a decade of sexual tension, all while trapped in close quarters with the person she wants the most.

She hopes Harry makes himself sparse today, though she knows that sounds cruel. But the longer they spend together, the clearer it becomes they’re on the cusp of something… and not something that would look good on a performance review. He’s been kind and understanding so far, even when she’s fucked things up. She just hopes she can ignore the most human parts of herself until they’ve dealt with this.

So at half-past 8, Ginny — Jenny — emerges from the house in a bright floral sundress and nude pumps. Were it not for the secret weapon clutched in her right fist, she might have fit in quite well... but Jenny has no intention of fitting in. Not anymore. In three confident strides, she marches across the front lawn, bends down, and spears the prongs of a lurid pink flamingo into the grass.

Yes.

She grins and takes in her work. How ghastly against the backdrop of earth tones! How repugnant!

Ginny steals quick glimpses over each shoulder, only to be met with the eerie, blanketed silence that’s defined Arcadia since their arrival. No activity at all. Which means she’ll have no issue with the next bit…

She strides to the mailbox at the end of their driveway and gives it a sharp kick. The post slides out of alignment, leaving it askew. Perfect. She returns to the house with a bounce in her step. Living with the twins taught her a thing or two about how to infuriate complete strangers.

She just hopes it’ll be enough.

___________________________

As luck would have it, it is enough. Her efforts receive reward more quickly than she thought— more quickly than she’s been conditioned to expect.

Scarcely an hour passes before she finds the warning she needs. And to be honest, it could’ve been there sooner; she just figured she’d give it that long before she checked.

Still, it’s not even 10 AM when she opens the door and sees it on their welcome mat: a folded paper with Pee-tri scrolled on the front. She can’t help but admire the sheer cheek as she unfolds it; this is the closest they’ll get to a public call-out for the way Harry insists on correcting everyone’s pronunciation. The message inside doesn’t surprise her, either.

Be like the others before dark. Or else.

Ginny glimpses out at the lawn, just to confirm— and yes. Sure enough. Just as she’d suspected, the flamingo's gone. The mailbox is straight. Everything’s back to normal.

She kicks the door closed with a smirk and wonders if they’re aware of how easily they’ve exposed themselves. How—

“What’ve you got there?” Harry calls from the sofa in the living room. He looks up from his laptop with bleary, dark-rimmed eyes. A wave of guilt washes through her; that sofa clearly didn’t get more comfortable overnight. Not that he would’ve accepted the alternative.

“Erm. A letter.” She waves in front of her and walks into the living room. “I’ve done a great job annoying them!”

He offers a gentle smile. “Any chance you’ll let me know who this ‘them’ is that you’re so worried about?”

Ginny rolls her eyes and settles on the other end of the couch. “You know I can’t—”

“Talk about your work,” Harry finishes, turning back to his computer. “Right.”

“Mm. Not exactly that I can’t… talk about my work,” she ventures, putting her feet up on the white ottoman. “More like I can’t give information until it’s essential knowledge for all parties involved. Based on criteria that I also can’t share.”

“Sounds like a fun job,” Harry deadpans, still looking at the computer. “But anyway, if I were to suggest something like… I don’t know…” He casually tilts the screen in her direction. “The fact that Oliver Skinner definitely has a criminal record, and maybe that’s worth looking into. You couldn’t confirm or deny that?”

Ginny just shrugs. “That’s correct. I can neither confirm nor deny.”

His theory is wrong, of course. Dead wrong.

They wouldn’t have sent an Unspeakable and an Auror into the country if this were a simple Muggle murderer. Harry would be able to suss this out, she reckons, if he had more sleep. Poor bloke.

He groans and cracks his back. “I’m starting to understand why King’s always so frustrated.”

“Probably because he has to deal with you all the time,” Ginny quips, reaching for a magazine on the floor. Ugh. Of course, it’s only the TV guide, Radio Times. They don’t even have a TV, but it came with the Daily Mail on Sunday.

Harry reaches for a glass of water on the coffee table. “Fine,” he relents, in between sips. “I’ll stay in my lane. But if I get bored, I’ll get tetchy.” He gestures to the computer. “And since they’ve given us this laptop, I’ve had time to do a bit of—”

“They’ve given me a laptop,” Ginny corrects, arching a brow. “As you’re well aware, Auror Potter, that is technically the property of the DoM.” She returns to the guide with a shrug. “I just don’t care if you use it, mostly because I don’t expect you’ll be looking up tits all day.”

He chokes on his water; Ginny just laughs and turns the page. Ooh, lovely! Eurovision looks particularly flamboyant this year…

“You’re absolutely right,” Harry says, once he recovers. “I’d never look up tits on government property!” He looks affronted as he hands over the laptop, but she knows he’s not done... not when he’s set that up so perfectly. Annnnd sure enough…

“You of all people should know I'm an arse-man, Ginny.”

Now it’s her turn for an unattractive snort as he winks over his shoulder and marches upstairs.

When he’s gone, Ginny rolls her eyes and opens her laptop. He’s an incredible liar on the arse-man front, but it was a good joke. A simple joke…. one that didn’t deserve looking into.

It’s just unfortunate that can’t stop these stupid fucking butterflies from erupting in her stomach like she’s ten years old again.

___________________________

He launches into the air again, the gardens of his neighbors spanning out in front of him. Each perfectly manicured. Each disturbing in its performative precision. None of this is real; none of this is life.

He pulled out the trampoline after dinner, when Ginny okayed it. He’s not used to that— checking before he does things. This whole exercise has been a great reminder that his teamwork skills are rusty, especially when he’s in a subordinate role. Ron left after their first year to work in the magic shop instead, which only made sense after… yeah. Harry draws a deep breath and jumps again. Ron and Hermione haven’t been problem-solving in his head for ages. There’s been no one to share the burden of choices or—

“OI!” Oliver’s voice thunders across the garden.

Harry smiles and takes another huge leap into the air. Just in time…

He rips open the fence door and stomps over, hands balled into fists. Harry’s never seen anyone look quite so furious while dressed in cashmere. And standing beside a trampoline.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Oliver hisses, eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you trying to make enemies, Henry? Is this entire estate a bloody joke to you?”

“Of course not!” Harry lands on his bum before he jumps up again. “This is very serious!”

“Oliver!” Sharon wails, hurrying over. “Oliver. Please! This really—”

“Keep your nose where it belongs, woman,” Oliver snarls, looking at her like she’s scum on his shoe. “No one wants your opinion!”

Sharon flinches… and this, more than anything else, gets Harry’s back up. “No need to take it out on her!” he snaps, climbing down from the trampoline. “Talk to me if you’ve got a problem, Ollie. Why not—”

But just as Harry’s feet touch the grass, something very weird happens: A dull buzzing fills his ears. Sharon and Oliver hear it too, but unlike Harry, they aren’t looking around in bewildered confusion. In a flash, the rage on Oliver’s face transforms into something much different: fear. And as the pressure grows, Harry can only watch as Oliver grabs Sharon’s hand, yanking her from the garden, when—

An unmistakable sound replaces the buzzing. A large piece of glass from somewhere in the front of the house shatters on the pavement. And with that, the buzzing stops.

Birds chirp again. Someone laughs in the distance. Harry jabs a finger in his ear, trying to clear it, but it seems Oliver’s returned to his furious state. He lunges towards Harry, a vein ticking in his neck, his hands outstretched as if to push him over— but Harry doesn’t have time for this. He’s already running around him, bolting towards the source of the sound, his hand inching for his pocket…

Because whatever they’ve got going on isn’t related to Oliver, is it? No… definitely not. That buzzing was too creepy to be muggle. Harry hadn’t really been convinced of the Oliver theory in the first place, even if the wanker has a criminal record for drunk driving. He mostly suggested it to Ginny to see if she’d give him any information.

Harry spots the broken glass the second he reaches the pavement. The lamppost right outside their house has shattered, light bulb and all. Bits of glass sparkle on the street, but the lamppost is at least 10 feet high. Harry scans around for signs of a ladder, or some form of a projectile… any method someone might’ve used to— oh! A baseball rolls around in one of the open garages across the street. He’s about to march over and collect it when his conscience stops him.

Because that’s the definition of circumstantial evidence, isn’t it? Harry sighs, rubbing his forehead. Snatching the baseball while working alone is one thing, but it’s not worth risking Ginny’s job. Especially because he reckons these thoroughly unmemorable homes are each equipped with monitoring systems. At absolute best, that would be… awkward to explain to the muggle police, especially without an obvious connection between the ball and the shattered lamppost...

Harry’s just about to turn back inside and write it off a freak occurrence when—

Shit.

His breath freezes in his throat.

What the...

He blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it, but no...

There’s no weird buzzing this time… but something else is happening instead. The grass on the far side of their yard is bulging and curling, right in front of his eyes. The soil creaks as this… this mass — a huge sphere of some sort — passes through; bits of dirt fly into the air before settling back.

Harry’s veins turn to ice, his stomach churning. Work has introduced him to new, vile varieties of ghouls and nasties. He’s been bitten by a leprechaun. Stalked by a vampire. He’s encountered every disturbing otherworldly menace that one could imagine.

But he’s never seen anything like this.

His only solace is that it’s headed towards Mike’s empty house… this massive, rolling boulder that travels beneath the soil. ‘Boulder’ isn’t exactly the right term, though; he’s never seen a boulder move with a slinking, predatory grace. He’s never gotten gooseflesh from a rock, no matter how large.

And try as he might, he can only stand there, wide-eyed, his heart racing. Because now he knows for sure what Ginny only alluded to before: whatever they’re chasing isn’t human.

And it’s aware of them.

___________________________

The door creaks open less than five minutes after the glass shatters, but Ginny’s prepared.

She’s standing in the alcove just off the entryway, wand in one hand, fire poker in the other. It’s probably not the best strategy she’s ever had— but she reckons that if a Muggle were to catch sight of an altercation, it would be an easy memory supplantation. Wands and fire pokers don’t look that dissimilar, and—

“Ginny?” Harry calls. Directly into her ear.

Shit! She jumps into the air, the poker clattering to the ground.

“When did you learn to move like a cat?” she demands, turning to face him. “You nearly—”

“We need to talk,” he says brusquely. It’s only then that she takes in his wide, haunted eyes. His white pallor. The way he hasn’t even commented on the ridiculousness of her fire poker.

Oh.

He’s scared.

Scared in a way she hasn’t seen him in ages. Maybe ever. Which means he heard…? Shit. She’d might as well ask.

“What do you erm…” She toys with her wand handle. “Want to talk about?”

Harry heaves a tired sigh. “I’m only going to ask you this once,” he says flatly, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Then he blinks up at her, his eyes pulsing and stern. “What the fuck was that?”

“The… shattered lamppost?” she hedges. “I’ve no idea. I just—”

Apparently, that was the wrong response.

Harry groans. “You know damn well I don’t mean the bloody lamppost!” he snarls. “I mean that… that thing! First the weird buzzing, then whatever moved through the grass! It was like some creepy worm, or—”

“—not a worm,” she amends, staring at her cuticles.

This, too, was the wrong reply; she’s never seen him go from bewildered to enraged quite so fast.

Harry lets out a furious roar and kicks at an empty box. “This is why Unspeakables are so fucking annoying!” he shouts, tossing his hands in the air. “You never fucking say anything — even if it might help someone!”

Pfft! He can do better than that...

“Not sure what you expected,” she deadpans. “Would it help if I were a Speakable instead?”

Harry rolls his eyes and throws himself on the couch. Ginny just leans against the door… and waits. She can’t say she blames him for being angry. It’s probably made him feel vulnerable in ways he hasn’t in ages.

“The least you can bloody do,” Harry says, cutting into her thoughts, “is to let me know how to kill it.” He glimpses up at her, his chest still heaving. “Because if anything happened to you….” His hand curls around his wand, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “We both know I’d never forgive myself.”

Fuck.

Her heart clenches; as embarrassing as it is, tears sting the backs of her eyes. She wasn’t expecting that… but it makes perfect sense. He’s not angry because he’s vulnerable; he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to protect her.

Because he’s Harry.

Her Harry.

And try as she might, she can’t deny that. He’s hers… even though now he’s broken and angry and scared and alone. Which is probably why she loves the fucking fuck out of him.

No.

She stops herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Mission. Mission. They’re on a mission.

Right. She clears her throat and steps forward, two papers clutched in her hand.

“What’s that?” Harry grumbles as she hands them over. He scans the pages, brow furrowing. “Sugar… engine oil. Red Dye 40. What am I supposed to do with—?”

Ginny smiles and tries to make this easy. “It’s the report from the necklace. The thing that was on Mike’s medallion… it’s rubbish. Not blood, not some ghost slime. It’s just a weird mixture of types of rubbish.”

She should’ve figured he wouldn’t find this significant.

“What a brilliant scientific discovery.” Harry tosses the paper to the side. “Hermione would be thrilled.”

Ginny gnaws at her cheek, choosing her words carefully… but if he’s already seen it, if he’s already heard it, surely there’s no harm...

Harry rises to his feet and takes a step closer until he’s towering over her, all warm and brooding. They aren’t touching… not exactly. He’s just hovering close enough to give her strength, whether he knows it or not. When she finally gets the nerve to look up at him, his green eyes are swirling with more pain than rage. Truth be told, she prefers the rage. “I deserve to know,” he says thickly, like he’s suppressing something in his throat, “what the fuck is going on.”

Ginny breaks their eye contact. Some of this she hasn’t even shared with Attica yet. She’s violating about a million protocols by telling Harry first, but if they’re together on a mission…

“It’s… not what we thought. Not what I thought,” she admits softly, after a moment. “We came out here under the assumption of chasing something from the Thought Chamber. Something that erm… may have escaped. During a routine experiment.”

He’s not impressed, though. “Yeah,” he says, arching a brow. “I gathered all of that from your intro with the camera, thanks. Do you ever plan on telling me anything new?” He jerks his chin towards the window. “Because you’ve sure as hell never mentioned Evil Grass Monster Experiment #6, and that may have been helpful to fucking know before I saw it.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

His attitude is more infuriating than his actual words, but she lacks the patience for dealing with either. The bloody nerve, to act all impatient with information that’s kept secret for a reason...

“I don’t have to tell you shit, actually,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “And in case you’re unaware, I can protect myself.”

Harry pulls back with a laugh, but this one is cruel. Dark. The sort she’s never heard from him before. “Makes sense,” he says with a fake grin. Then he taps her on the nose. “Because when that thing outside inevitably kills someone else, we all know how well you’ll manage the guilt.”

Ouch.

She reels back, stung. He’s got to know that’s a low blow. Younger Ginny would have Bat Bogeyed him into oblivion, but she’s better now. She’s changed.

At least that’s what she tells herself as she glares at him, her hands fisted so tightly they turn white. “Say what you mean,” she manages several moments later, when rage isn’t clawing at her chest. “If you’d like to rehash our breakup, Auror Potter, I’m all ears!” She gives her best impression of an icy smirk. “This isn’t exactly professional… but then again, when have you ever been?”

Harry looks like he’s going to respond, but a loud vibration starts in his back pocket. “Fuck!” Now it’s his turn to leap into the air before he realizes it’s just his wand. And really, she’s tempted to laugh— but the look on his face helps her put the pieces together.

Because if his wand’s vibrating, that means it’s an emergency; only department heads can summon their employees like that. They’re the only ones with access to that sort of technology, not that she’s really interested either way.

“It’s King,” he mutters. She’s about to get on him for stating the obvious, but when he peers at her again, his face is filled with such timid yearning that she can only see the 11-year-old boy on the train platform. “Can I…erm. Use your mobile?”

Fine. Ginny nods towards the bedroom, her head still spinning. She’s still a bit angry with him, but he’s so fucking broken. They both are. And besides, they’ve got bigger problems. What could possibly have King so worried that he’d call Harry from a mission? The man is unflappable.

Harry returns a minute later, his face stony, jaw set. In another life, she might’ve seen the bulge in his pocket and asked if that’s just her mobile, or if he’s happy to see her.

Instead, she tucks her hair behind her ears like the seasoned professional she is. “There’s no reception inside,” she points out. “I’ve had luck calling Attica from up the street, right at the corner. Just watch out for…”

Harry smirks. “Grass monsters?”

Ginny draws a breath to consider her options. She could keep him in the dark forever, but isn’t that the whole point of this assignment? To learn? It’s time for the truth, she reckons...

“It’s erm. It’s called a tulpa, actually.”

His eyes light up at this. “A tulpa?”

Ginny shifts her weight and searches for the right words. “It’s a… it’s sort of like an evil imaginary friend, created by a group of people to do their bidding,” she explains, reaching for the discarded papers. “They come from the material of whatever’s underground. I’ve only heard of creatures made from clay or water, but since this village was built on a rubbish tip”— she flicks the papers with her fingers— “that’s our guy!”

She can almost see the gears spinning in Harry’s head as he studies the far wall. “So…” he says slowly, still peering off, “it’s basically an evil dump monster, made of rubbish, that can murder people.”

A laugh slips past her lips. It sounds a bit dumb when he puts it that way. She clears her throat and continues. “I was wrong because it’s not something that’s escaped, more like something that’s—”

“Formed,” Harry finishes quickly. For the first time all week, he sounds intrigued. Like he’s happy to be here. “So… they’ve made it to keep order, then?”

“It would seem so.” She shrugs. “I… honestly don’t know. But between the weird buzzing and the rubbish, it’s the closest match we’ve got. According to the system database, anyway.”

There’s another pause as Harry mulls this over. “So, how do we get rid of it, then?”

How fucked up is it that her heart warms at the way he says ‘we’?

Ginny brushes that aside. “Considering the mask in Gogolak’s house and the way they’ve made a point to tell us he’s in charge, I’d say he’s the one we need to get rid of.”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest but doesn’t object.

“Or at least… knock him totally unconscious,” she adds, swallowing; Gogolak’s a wanker, but she’d rather not kill him, either. “Beyond just being asleep. Because he sleeps at night, but the tulpa’s still here, which means he needs to be down for the count. Comatose, even.”

Harry’s wand buzzes again. Ah, shit; in all the hubbub, she’d forgotten about that.

Concern floods Harry’s face. “Give me five minutes.” He blinks. “Ok?”

She waves towards the door. “Duty calls.”

He gives her a weak smile and turns away; she begins the trek upstairs to send Attica an email update.

“Ginny?”

She stops to look down at him. Harry’s paused, halfway out the door. “Thank you,” he says softly, meeting her eyes. “And… I’m sorry. For everything. Ok? I’ll always, erm…”

But she can’t right now. She actually fucking can’t.

“Later,” she whispers, nearly begging. “Please. Let’s do this later.”

Because of course she loves him.

She’s always fucking loved him, even though that’s changed forms. It’s shifted. It’s evolved. He feels the same way… she knows he’s bloody feels the same way. She just doesn’t have the resources to deal with whatever this fuck is reigniting, right in front of her eyes, as the tulpa dances in the back of her head.

Luckily, he understands. Harry just swallows again, nods at her, and heads out into the night.

___________________________

As it would turn out, he was wrong about the identity of the summoner.

“Great news!” Hermione announces on the other end of the mobile. “MLE found Yaxley. He was hiding in a cave in Romania, just like you said.”

Harry snorts; he wishes that gave him more pride. “Well, if you’d listened to me months ago, then—”

“The important part is that we have him,” Hermione says, cutting across. “We need you back ASAP to prep for witness questioning. You’ll take the stand, of course. The trial’s set to start next week!”

He can practically hear her bouncing with excitement. Very little brings her more joy than trials of former Death Eaters.

“Erm… about that.” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “We’re actually right on the cusp of something here. I’m gonna need a couple more days to wrap things up.”

“Really?” Hermione sounds surprised. “Kingsley and Robards said you’d be pleased. Said you found this mission as useless as they did.”

Fuck, he was such an arse.

“Well, things… changed,” he offers lamely. “It’s going really well. This mission is so important to her. I’d just hate to leave at the last minute.”

“Ohhh?” Hermione draws out the word in a way that suggests she finds herself quite clever. Even before she asks, he knows what she’s on about. “How’s it going with Ginny, then?”

Harry rolls his eyes. Her coy prodding is obvious, even over the phone.

“As I already said, it’s going well,” he replies flatly. “We’re a great team. Always have been.”

But she can’t let him have that one, can she?

“Well… not always,” Hermione allows. “After Percy—”

Harry groans. For fuck’s sake, what’s her obsession with stating the obvious? “Yeah, well,” he retorts, “I’d like to know who you think did well after that, especially since…”

He trails off with a sigh.

Especially since what, exactly?

He toys with the fraying ends of his hoodie string.

Especially since Ginny was the last to speak with Percy? That she still carries the weight of the guilt for what she said that night? That she’s never admitted it, but that he suspects her choice to become an Unspeakable was influenced by the things she wishes she could un-say?

Harry makes a face. That’s corny as fuck, isn’t it? What a thing to pull from his arse...

Hermione interrupts his thoughts for a bit of bragging. “Well, Ron and I have done just fine.”

He can almost imagine her staring at her engagement ring in dreamy affection. The mental image makes his reply sound more bitter than he intends.

“Well,” Harry snaps, “Ron wasn’t the last person to speak with Percy. So I’m not sure how you could compare the two, really.”

Shit.

The silence on the other end tells him he needs to apologize, even if it’s true. Fortunately, Hermione gives him an easy out. “Anyway.” She clears her throat. “I’ll give you until tomorrow night, but we really need you the following day. If you haven’t settled this, we’re swapping you out. Got it?”

Harry sighs. He’s exhausted, but this couldn’t possibly take much longer. Ginny’s more or less got the proof she needs now. They just need to confront Gogolak, knock him out, and—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Harry cranes his neck towards the source of the noise. Huh… weird. Far up the street, flashing lights tip him off. That’s definitely Oliver’s Audi, the one parked in the driveway directly beside theirs. It’s in utopia blue with a metallic finish, a detail Oliver probably mentioned at least fifty times the other night. Then, while Sharon and Ginny were out walking the dog, Oliver began a mind-numbing lecture on the car’s exact miles per liter. Harry was a bit drunk, which is probably why he interrupted to ask a much more important maths question: How many blow jobs per week is too many, exactly?

Even from a distance, Harry can tell that Oliver’s nearly the same shade of murderous red now; he storms from the house and turns off the alarm with his key fob. But then he pauses, glancing around like something’s spooked him. He must decide it’s not that significant, though, because he huffs back inside soon enough. Fucking wanker...

“....Harry?”

“Sorry!” Harry shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, that works. See you then, Hermione.”

“Can’t wait!” she trills. He doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s smug and grinning.

___________________________

Two minutes after Harry leaves, Ginny feels it again: that same sensation she experienced while walking Captain Bone.

She’s sitting at her laptop when it starts… this deeply unsettling shift. It stands the hair up on the back of her neck. She rushes to the window on instinct, but just like before, everything outside looks the same. There’s no “moving grass monster,” as Harry called it. Not yet, at least.

Still, she can’t deny it’s growing louder. Getting stronger. And now that she’s felt it for a bit longer, she can put more words to it. It’s like she’s plummeting through the absence of sound; like all the wind’s been sucked from the air. It’s a building pressure, a mounting unease, and before she knows it, her whole body starts to shake.

Then two things happen in quick succession: that weird feeling stops, and a car alarm begins to blare in the distance.

Weird.

She shudders. This whole thing is so fucking weird. Weird is her job, and this place is still Very Fucking Weird. Seriously, who enjoys living here? She’s reaching for her wand, just in case, when the front door slams open.

In retrospect, it’s a blessing she knows Harry as well as she does… because she can tell that those heavy, clobbering footsteps don’t belong to him. She knows he’s not the one drawing deep, ragged breaths as he marches up the stairs.

She hides around the corner of the bedroom, her heart racing, and goes through a mental list of spells she might use. Shield charms. Enchantments. The buzzing’s stopped, so this probably isn’t the tulpa… but who else would be here? Gogolak? It sounds more human than—

“Jenny?” a deep, soothing voice asks. “Are you in here?”

Her breath freezes in her throat. She’s only heard that voice once before… but it’s so similar to her former life that she identifies it at once.

“Mike?” A wave of relief washes through her. She shoves her wand into her dress as she comes around the corner. Sure enough, there he is, in the flesh. Mike Snodgrass. A man she presumed dead days ago.

“Hi!” Mike pants. He cracks a smile. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but.” He winces, wiping a palm on his ripped khakis. “Been hiding!” Fuck. His whole outfit (yellow Polo, khakis) is the same he wore days ago to unload their boxes, except now it’s filthy. Stained. Like he’s been living beneath cars and inside drains. He’s just missing his Saint Julian medallion, which she’s sent to the Ministry.

Ginny feels sick. She wrote him off as dead so carelessly...

“I’ve been trying to take it down,” he adds earnestly, peering at her. His cheeks are caked in something red and grimy, the same stuff she stuffed into her bra. He’s been tailing the tulpa, she realizes, her stomach plummeting…

Except he’s got no clue what he’s doing.

“I was about to leave the development, to just run away, but that’s when I figured out it was coming for you two!” He shudders, closing his eyes. It feels like he’s been waiting a long, long time to say this. “And I’ve been aimless without Jess in the first place. So what was the point in leaving, really, if I could save…?”

He trails off, clearing his throat; when he looks up at her again, there’s a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I’ve been leaving clues, though! Why didn’t you listen?”

“Clues?” Ginny sounds like she’s a million miles away.

Mike’s nearly pleading now. “You had to go and kick the mailbox and stick the flamingo in the grass, didn’t you?” He raises his pointer finger. “And even though I left you a note, you had to make it even worse! It only attacks when the sun goes down, see.”

“You… you left the note?” she whispers. She was so certain that it was from Gogolak...

But Mike proceeds in such a rush it’s clear he hasn’t heard her. “It was about to get Henry by the trampoline, so I threw the baseball as a diversion. I broke the lamppost, too— which worked. For a second,” he adds hastily, glancing over his shoulder.

“How did you also set off the car alarm— oh.” Her head’s still spinning. “Buddy system. Right.”

Mike dangles a keyfob. “Covenant rules. Stole the spare off Jane.” He glances into the hall again before whipping back to face her. “It’ll need a sacrifice tonight, though,” he adds grimly. “And every night, until you all have perfect behavior. It was coming for you earlier, see. We aren’t meant to be outdoors after dark without a permit for dog-walking, so.” He shrugs. “If there’s an unapproved disruption like a car alarm, it knows just where to hunt.”

It’s then that the final pieces of this dreadful puzzle slide together in her brain. “Captain Bone,” Ginny breathes; she swears a feather could knock her over. “He was the first since we arrived. Punishment for us sticking out.”

“I couldn’t save him,” Mike laments. “It came up and snatched him. So I threw in my medallion, right after his collar, just to make them think I was already gone.”

“That’s… that was brilliant,” she admits, biting her lip. “Thank you. You didn’t have—”

“Nah,” he says firmly. “I did. For starters, you remind me so much of…” He stops mid-sentence, an odd expression on his face.

For a second, she thinks he’s being sentimental, but then she feels it too.

Shit.

The hairs on her arm stand up. It’s back… that weird way she felt before. Like the air’s sucked from the room. That creeping, clawing silence. This time, though, it only gets louder, louder, louder, until she’s throwing her hands over her ears, all hope of self-defense forgotten.

But Mike knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing. She doesn’t have the chance to object or get her wand before he’s ripping open the closet door and throwing her inside. Ginny opens her mouth in a startled cry, but it’s like she’s screaming underwater, the sound distant and distorted. Mike slams the door closed with her inside and stomps to the center of the room— but now the thundering, roaring wind is causing her physical pain… it’s so loud now that it reverberates in her chest, so loud that her hands shake as she reaches for her wand at long last, but fuck fuck fuck, it’s too late…

It’s too fucking late.

Because Mike’s made a choice. One he can’t take back. He just stands in the middle of the room, puffing out his chest, offering himself as the proud sacrifice, even as the noise grows so loud that Ginny screams her throat raw.

She feels it enter the bedroom, this looming, shifting mass— but by then, she’s certain her ears are bleeding, her eardrums bursting. Her whole body rattles and shakes as she peers through the slats in the closet door, but she’s frozen. Stuck. Miserable. She couldn’t cast a spell if she tried… even as the tulpa oozes into the room, lunges itself back, and swallows Mike with a sickening squelch.

Even though the slats of the door, Ginny’s sprayed with blood. Covered. And she’s dizzy now… so dizzy. A drop of blood trickles into her eye; she reaches up to wipe it from her face, and it’s only then that she hears her own screams again. They reverberate through the small space, anguished and pleading, so loud that she’s certain someone up the street could hear, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t fucking care. She just screams over and over and over, her nails clawing at the walls, until the world slips away into darkness.

___________________________

Blood.

It’s the first thing he smells as he charges up the steps. His chest squeezes, his eyes water, his head pounds over and over again with one word: No.

No. No. No.

Not Ginny. It can’t be.

But almost as soon as he smells the blood, he hears her screaming, and yes! His heart soars. Screaming is good; screaming means she’s alive and breathing and—

Fuck.

His dinner rises in his throat as he steps into the bedroom. He smelled the blood from the steps, he hadn’t expected… this much. It always takes him aback, exactly how much blood is in one human body, and he’s certainly never seen it sprayed, all over the floor… covering the walls. Covering the closet, even, where Ginny’s still screaming.

He flings open the door, thinking he’s prepared for what he might see. Somehow, though, none of that measures up. Because he’s dealt with tears in his line of work… but he’s never, ever seen her so broken. His chest clenches when he takes her in. Her perfect suburban dress — the yellow floral one, the one he liked so much— is now red and grimy, caked in blood, as Ginny rocks back and forth on the floor, sobs wracking her body.

Blood’s covering her face, too, and her arms. Dried trails of it have crusted around her eyes, like she’s fallen asleep wiping them away… or perhaps lost consciousness. The thought is too terrible to bear. He kicks the door open completely and brings her into his arms in one fell swoop.

She melts against him, her voice raw and broken. “H-Harry!” she manages. “P-please! I need-I need!” She begins to shake, pressing her face to his chest.

“A shower,” he says firmly, stepping into the en-suite. “You… you just need a shower. Ok? And maybe some calming draught, I’ve got some in my luggage, and—”

“No!” she cries, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide and filled with horror. “Don’t… don’t leave. Don’t leave me, Harry, please!”

“I… ok,” he allows, carrying her to his luggage to retrieve the bottle. She clings to his neck as he reaches for it, but she weighs next to nothing. Fuck, she’s so thin… he’d just been too busy eyeing her up to realize exactly how thin. What a complete wanker.

It’s not difficult to unzip the suitcase with one hand and pass her the bottle. “Take this,” he urges, thrusting it into her hands. “Please, Ginny. You’ll feel—”

She’s already downed it before he gets to the end of the sentence. She tips her head back, drawing air into her lungs. “Thanks.” Her voice is still hoarse. Ragged.

“Shower, then,” he murmurs, walking her into the bathroom. He feels her start to relax against him, her body growing looser, as he opens the curtain and turns on the tap.

“Thanks,” she whispers again, her head tucked beneath his chin. His fingers itch with restraint; he’d do anything, he thinks, to hold her against him. To press a kiss to her temple. To tell her he loves her and that she’s beautiful and perfect and he’s sorry, so sorry, that any of this happened and—

She peers up at him, her eyes more focused now, less wide-eyed and horror-struck. “Would you stay here?” she asks, biting her lip. “While I shower? Just so I’m not—”

“‘Course.” Harry swallows, putting her on her feet. She lands with unintentional grace, one foot after the next.

“And can you… erm.” She turns her back to him, lifting her hair above her zipper. His hands shake as he reaches for the clasp. He knows the exact shape of her back as he slides it down, over the middle bump of her white bra strap. He nearly unstraps that for her, too, before he catches himself. It reeks of intimacy, doesn’t it? All of this…

His eyes linger on the soft swell of her bum before he turns around, self-disgust hammering in his throat.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he adds feebly. He balls his hands into fists as her dress hits the floor… followed by her bra. And her knickers.

“Not your fault,” she croaks, stepping into the shower. He smiles, his glasses fogging up as he moves to sit on the closed toilet seat. Even covered in blood and traumatized, she can't bring herself to blame him.

She finishes several minutes later.

“Erm… towel?” She shuts the water off. “Could you?”

“Sure,” he soothes, thrusting one through the curtain. “D’you want me to leave, or…?”

Ginny manages a weak snort. “Nah. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He chuckles at the door as he turns around again. She’s right, of course; he knows every bloody inch of her… but it’s not quite the same now.

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He whips around to face her. Admittedly, she looks… better. The blood’s gone. Her eyes are still red-rimmed from sobbing, but she’s looking a bit less like a woman who witnessed a death. Which reminds him…

“Erm. Give me a second to get it all cleaned up?”

Ginny shudders and settles on the toilet seat; he immediately kicks himself for asking. “Yeah,” she says a moment later. “Just… come get me, ok? When you’re done?”

He nods.

___________________________

It can’t be later than 10 PM when he finally carries her to the bed, still wrapped in a towel.

He’s exhausted from the nights on the sofa, but he knows she’s worse off. He’s cleaned the bedroom fairly well, he thinks, considering. There’s a rust-colored stain above the closet that he reckons won’t go anywhere anytime soon. He just hopes she doesn’t see it.

He rests her on the duvet surface, fully prepared to head downstairs for the night— but the pleading look on her face informs him he’s got other plans, instead. So without sharing a single word, he spreads his palms, lies beside her, and waits.

It comes eventually, as he knew it would. One person can’t deal with all that, see all that, without eventually cracking. And as a fellow fucked-up individual, he would know.

It starts as simple tears, ones that he wipes away. It progresses into sobs… full-body sobs. The sort he heard coming up the stairs. He’s surprised she’s got any left, but Ginny’s always been the sort to keep him on his toes. And just as her water-dark hair starts to dry and sprout red tendrils, he faces the thing he expected least of all: a kiss.

She starts softly. Slowly. Her lips so tender and soft that he forgets everything. She moans against his mouth, her whole body leaning into it; he’s instantly reminded of how much he’s fucking missed her. How lonely he’s been. How could he have forgotten the tiny mewl she makes in the back of her throat as her tongue parts his lips? He must’ve blocked it out, he realizes, as she begins to slide her body against him, panting, as she tips her head back. His lips trail down her neck, nibbling and biting, as she grips his arms and hair and bum. Because if he’d remembered all of these little details, he’d have gone mad long ago.

He’s throbbing hard by the time he gets to the tail end of her towel, which brushes the tip of her thighs. He tries to adjust himself, to—

“You can take it out, you know.”

Oh. He blinks up at her, his breath freezing in his throat. She’s peering down at him, her lips red and swollen.

“I know you’re hard,” she adds, her voice still raw. “So if it’s uncomfortable… take it out.”

He arches a brow from his position at her thigh. He’s about to retort with something snappy. Something that might keep them bantering for ages. But Ginny has no patience.

“Please.” It’s nearly a command. She blinks down with glassy eyes, her lips swollen. “I want you, Harry.”

Fuck. He groans, rubbing his cock against his palm to relieve some of the pressure. It doesn’t help for long, not that it matters; he’d rather focus on her, anyway. So with a slip of his fingers, the towel opens. She releases a breathy moan, tipping her head back.

Naked.

She’s finally naked. In front of him. His breathing grows ragged, his eyes scanning the territory somehow both totally familiar and completely new. She is thinner; he was right. Her hip bones jut out now, her stomach more sunken. But most of her is the same. The smattering of freckles on her chest. The way her breasts have puckered and darkened, the way her chest is rising and falling so fast. The thatch of dark red hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Well,” she quips. He blinks up at her as she reclines on her elbow. “Are you going to fuck me, Harry, or just stare all day?”

With that, he removes his glasses and gives her a smirk— her only real warning— before he kisses her one more time, just as his fingers spread her thighs.

She opens beneath him with a breathy sigh. Fuck, she’s so wet… he groans into her mouth as he dips his fingers further and further down. She’s dripping by the time he finds her clit… by the time he begins to swirl in tight circles. Clockwise. The pattern that screams of such intimate familiarity that it’s as if the years never passed.

He’s scarcely done anything, but she’s already writhing against his fingers, arching her back. “Please,” she slurs after a minute, “put them in.”

He’s never been one to deny her, has he?

It’s like muscle memory how quickly he finds his face between her thighs instead. He spares a moment of self-indulgence as he closes his eyes, breathing her in. She smells like home. She always has. It’s comfort… but more than that, it’s proof. Proof she wants him as much as he wants her. It’s why he stuffed his face in her knickers whenever he got a spare moment on the Horcrux hunt: one hand on that black lace, the other pulling at his cock. It’s bloody erotic, seeing proof of how much she wants him… but it’s more than that.

It’s love.

And despite all the things he’s forgotten tonight, he’d never forget this. He presses two fingers inside her, his hands shaking, and lets his body do the rest. Fuck, he’s missed this. She cries out above him, her hands grasping at his hair, tugging him closer. He’s never forgotten this… the way she tastes. The way she smells. The right way to run his tongue against her clit. Exactly how many fingers she needs, pressed against her just there… crooked in a certain position… just as she begins to thrust herself up and down on them, her cries growing louder, more insistent… and yesssss, there it is, she’s right there, right fucking there—

“Harry!” Her hair rubs against the pillow with abandon. “I’m… I’m so close,” she pants, her body starting to shake.

“Come for me,” he commands, his cock fit to burst, his face slippery. “Come for me, Ginny.”

He returns to her clit for a split-second before she says the words that change everything.

Her whole body tenses, a blush spreading up her chest. “I love you!” she cries, her voice strangled… and with that, she’s coming, clenching around him, her body shaking as he rides her through it.

What he doesn’t tell her is that he comes, too. The second those words wash over him. Those fucking words that prove he’s fucked up, fucked up, fucked up… but he can’t exactly help that, can he?

He just shoves his face into the duvet, thrusting his hips once, twice, and with a grunt, he’s off. His cock tightens and bursts, filling his boxers. Soaking through his jeans. He pulls back, dizzy, when the clenching finally stops.

Luckily, she seems too distracted to notice. Ginny’s half-asleep as he rises from between her thighs, pulling the blanket over her. He presses a kiss to her temple and makes quick work of removing his soggy clothes. Fairly embarrassing, this. Like he’s 16 again and rutting on the lawn.

He mutters a quick cleaning charm and changes into basketball shorts before settling down beside her in bed… making sure he’s on top of the duvet.

But as he drifts off, there’s something far less sentimental that hammers through his chest: They need to get their shit sorted.

Before he ever, ever lets that happen again.

#harry/ginny fanfic #harry x ginny #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

[fbfh]

dear baby; strawberry milkshakes - leo x reader parents au

words: 1.8k

summary: You and Leo are getting used to adulting together, when Chiron asks for your help. Next thing you know, there’s a little demigod for you two to take care of - and you’re not going to let her down.

warnings: almost boning but getting interrupted, shit is said twice, one use of fucking I think, mentions of orphanages and the foster care system, mentions of CPS, being at a CPS building, adopting a child, leo has trauma, leo and reader take in a child when you’re both 19, technically teen parents but not really, the kid has some trauma too, everyone has trauma but literally what’s new

au: sort of college + parents au

song recs: raining in new york mix - the bootleg boy (tw for some sort of sad dialogue samples), falling in love with love - bernadette peters in cinderella (1997)

a/n:  I saw a kids book called Sophia Valdez Future Prez and I know nothing about it but immediately knew I had to do a parents au where you and Leo have a daughter named sophia???????? also I accidentally gave myself baby fever whoopsie

also I was barely able to proof read this and had no brain while writing half of it so if the beginning feels rushed at all that’s why teehee

Straddling his lap, you start to take off Leo’s shirt. He tilts his head to the side as you nip at the skin gently. He moans softly, then tenses. 

"Shit!" He hisses, sitting up and pulling your shorts back up. You look at him bewildered, and he nods his head to the side, and you see a shimmery cloud that says that you have an incoming iris message from Chiron.  

"Oh shit," you echo, moving to a reasonable distance away from him, a thick throw blanket tossed gracefully across your legs and pulled up to cover your chest, and you're grateful your shirt hadn't been thrown across the room already. 

He pulls his shirt down and you toss him a throw pillow to cover his very obvious excitement. You give each other a ready as we'll ever be look and accept the call. 

"Hey Chiron… what's up?" Leo asks nonchalantly. 

"You must pardon my intrusion, dear children, I hope I'm not - er - interrupting anything.” “No, no, not at all,” you answer, hoping what you had been doing wasn’t too obvious in spite of how both of you are looking particularly flushed and deschevled, “we were just watching a movie.” 

Leo nods in agreement, and you list two different movies at the exact same time, the dark knight rises and moonstruck.

A beat passes, and you continue, “Double feature. Just finished Batman and we’re about to start Moonstruck.” 

Leo agrees. You can’t tell if Chiron is buying it, but he seems to move on relatively quickly. 

“Right. I’m afraid I must ask for your help with a rather time sensitive situation.” your brows furrow in unicen as he continues. 

He tells you about a young demigod a satyr found, not even four years old yet, but they haven’t been able to get her to camp. Apparently there were some complications, and CPS was called, now they’re looking for her parents to see if she’s going to a foster home or orphanage. If they can’t get to her before the CPS finishes processing her, she’ll be lost in the system. He’s asking older demigods and demigod families in New York, since processing time will go the fastest if the family or guardians are in-state. 

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but please consider taking her in, at least temporarily.” You and Leo share a look, hearts already hurting that life has gotten to this kid so soon. 

“I’ll give you some time to discuss this, please call me back as soon as you have an answer.” 

You agree, and the shimmery image of Chiron dissipates.

“... Oh my god,” you breathe. 

You turn to each other again, the same thing mirrored in each other's eyes. An immediate, unspoken conformation that there’s no way you can’t help this kid out passes between you. You know Leo, especially, will do whatever needs to be done to keep another orphaned demigod out of the foster system. The scope of the impact you could have on this kid’s life starts to dawn on you, and you lock eyes with Leo again, his face set in determination. 

“Estrella,” he starts, and you know what he’s going to say. 

“I know,” you confirm in agreement.

His leg is bouncing, and you lean over, grabbing a notepad and pen from the coffee table. Your mind is already racing, and you begin scribbling down a list of everything you’d need to do; get her a bed and clothes, research where she is in her developmental stages, put together a meal plan or at least some foods she’ll like - what do toddlers even eat? He starts pacing around the coffee table. 

“We gotta help this kid, we-” he cuts himself off, overwhelmed with determination. 

“We will.” you confirm, equally determined. You grab your laptop and start copying your list digitally so you can get everything organized. You stare at your reflection in the black screen while you wait for your computer to boot up. Once again, the reality of your situation hits you.

“We’re 19…” you state, in disbelief. Your mind is racing with doubts. What if you somehow make everything worse, what if you can’t handle it? He crouches next to you, placing his hand on your cheek.

“And we have a lot of love to give.” The smile in your eyes tells him that you know he’s right. You transcribe your writing, surprised that you’re okay with how fast this is all moving, and you let out another breathy laugh of disbelief. 

You go through your hastily made checklist, switching between tabs about child psychology, parenting advice, and kid’s furniture and clothes websites, strategizing with Leo on how you can pull this off, and a plan gradually comes together.

“I mean, this is a two bedroom,” he says as you look through pages of bed frames and mattresses, “we can clear out our studio and turn it into her room.” 

“And…” you add, checking yet another tab, “there’s a building nearby that rents out studio spaces and workshop areas. Ooh, and free parking.” you read on the website. It’s already late, but you send them an email anyway. Hopefully they’ll get back to you tomorrow. But for now… 

“We can get a bed tonight, but we’d have to hurry. We can probably get some pjs and maybe a stuffed animal while we’re there- toothbrush!” You exclaim, adding it to your list, “I knew I was forgetting something…”

 Leo stops pacing, and looks at you. “So… we’re doing this?” You can’t fight the smile on your face, and he already has his answer. 

“We’d better call Chiron back,” you say, excitedly bubbling out. You both enter the bathroom, and iris message chiron with mist from the shower. He answers almost immediately.

“We thought it over and…” you trail off, letting him finish.

“We want to help.” 

After changing into some presentable clothes and swinging by the store for a car seat and some other essentials (you almost forgot tooth paste this time), you’re driving with Leo to meet Chiron at the CPS office where they had Sophia - the girl Chiron told you about. You call the Ikea store not too far from your apartment, thankful you’re able to reach them before they close. You arrange to have them deliver a toddler bed to the spare bedroom in your apartment, your neighbor agreeing to let them in. Luckily, you had the presence of mind to get most of your and Leo’s stuff out of there, the corner of the living room now holding your desk and his drafting table. 

You’re still a little blurry on the details of how you’re going to get custody of this kid when you’re barely legal and have no ties to her or her family, but Chiron said he could work everything out. You assume the Mist will come in very handy. You and Leo discuss this on the way over. 

You can tell he’s worried. Knowing the horrors he went through in the foster system would be bad enough without all the demigod bullshit on top of everything. You take another deep breath. 

“This is what’s best for her,” he says matter of factly, “she needs to be with people who understand her.” You agree, and he continues, very fired up.

“She needs to be in an environment where she’s not going to be ignored and ostracized; she needs to be part of a family, not a fucking meal ticket.” 

You squeeze his leg supportively, and he takes another breath. 

“You’re right. And she’s going to get all of that.” He scoffs in agreement.

“There’s not a better place for someone like her than-”

“With someone like her.” you finish. He pulls into the parking lot and you enter, meeting Chiron in the building. Your hand holds Leo’s tightly, unsure of who’s shaking more. Chiron explains that he already had a discussion (wink wink) with the social worker, and knows that he has the perfect couple to take little Sophia in, and all you have to do is meet with her and sign some papers. 

So that brings you here, waiting outside the office door, holding each other’s trembling hands before finally entering. She doesn’t look up at you at first, until the social worker introduces you. Leo squeezes your hand, and she finally looks up, her eyes speaking a language you and Leo know. You know there is absolutely no going back from here, and you both sit down across from her. 

“Hi, you’re Sophia, right?” She looks away, clearly and understandably overwhelmed. 

“Don’t be rude, Sophia-” the social worker starts, but you cut her off. 

 “It’s okay, she didn’t do anything wrong.” you turn back to her, “You know, me and Leo have an extra bedroom at our apartment, and a kitten that I think would really like you. Do you want to come stay with us?” 

She doesn’t look back up right away, but she turns her head towards you. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” she asks softly. How is she so precious already?

“A girl,” you reply, “named Jackhammer, because she purrs so loud.” 

She giggles, and you and Leo squeeze each other’s hands in unison.

“Really?” she asks. 

“Oh yeah,” you reply, “I’m sure she’d love to play catch the mouse with you.” She considers for a moment, then looks over at the social worker, who gives her an encouraging nod. After a moment of consideration, she replies quietly, “...Okay.” 

She hops down from her chair, and you both follow suit. The social worker hands you some papers, and you both sign. You guide her to the lobby, let Chiron know it went well and promise to update him soon, and bring her to the car. You pull out of the parking lot. 

Not long after leaving, you see a fast food place. 

“Are you guys hungry?” you ask, nudging Leo gently. 

“Yeah, I could definitely go for some fries. How bout you Sophia?” 

She nods, then asks quietly, “Can I get a milkshake?” 

Her expression is hesitant, and you get the sense she’s expecting a no. 

“Of course kiddo,” you say.

“What flavor do you want?” Leo finishes, turning to look at her. Her eyes are bright with hesitant excitement. 

“Strawberry, please.” 

After leaving the drive through, you have Leo search through your phone for any kid friendly music, and discover the only thing you have saved that’s appropriate for present company is the soundtrack to the Cinderella musical from 1997.

That’s how your little family started; driving late at night, singing along to Bernadette Peters, and drinking strawberry milkshakes.

#Leo Valdez #leo x reader #Heroes of Olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #leo valdez imagine

[storiesforallfandoms]

he’ll never see this ~ noen eubanks

word count: 1994

request?: yes!

“Hi can you do one imagine of Noen Eubanks, like, the reader is a tik toker or influencer something like that and they have a crush on each other,and they Fans are Shipping them.

Thanksss💖🖤💖🖤💖”

description: in which she admits her feelings for a fellow creator during a stream thinking he’ll never see it

pairing: noen eubanks x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

The sound of a new donation message coming in pulled you away from your game for a split second. The automated voice read the message out to you: “are there any influencers that you are totally crushing on right now?”

You chuckle to yourself as you turn back to your game. “You guys really wanna start something, huh? You realize this will be trending within an hour if I say anything.”

You glanced over at your chat to see they were begging you to tell them who your influencer crush was. You had mentioned a few times that there was a fellow influencer that you had a crush on, but you refused to admit who it was (for obvious reasons). Your viewers, however, were determined to find out who this mystery man you liked was.

“We promise we’ll keep it a secret,” you read, managing to catch one message before it disappeared into the void of never ending messages. “I don’t believe you guys at all.”

You laughed as you watched the chat blow up again. You finally paused your game and made your face cam bigger for the audience. “Okay, you know what? Fuck it, there’s no way he’ll ever see this and I’m not big enough of a content creator to have articles written about me. My influencer crush is Noen Eubanks. If you don’t know who he is, look him up on TikTok and you’ll totally understand why I have such a crush on him.”

Your chat went absolutely wild at this. You went back to playing your game, smiling to yourself as you did so. It felt nice to get that off of your chest, and you knew you were about to get a kick out of your fan’s reactions to this.

Like you said, you had no fear of Noen actually finding out what you said. You had a bit of a following, but it was nothing too big. Just enough that you could be classified as “Internet famous”, but not enough that admitting you had a crush on someone else who had a much bigger following than you would be a big deal.

Or so you thought.

After your stream, you decided to go right to bed. You were feeling tired and had to get up early to edit the video you were planning on uploading. You weren’t awake to witness the internet absolutely explode over your comment, but lucky for you it was still happening when you woke up the next morning.

When you checked your phone for the first time that day, you noticed that your notifications had blown up over night. You figured it was just your fans teasing you over your crush on Noen, which it partly was, but you noticed that it was also YouTube news Twitter accounts and internet tabloid accounts tagging you in their articles about your crush on Noen.

“Oh no,” you said, your eyes widening as you read through article after article, tweet after tweet.

Before you knew it, you had spent nearly two hours sat on the floor, reading through everything that mentioned both you and Noen. All the articles were the same: an brief introduction to you and your small Twitch/YouTube following, talking about you admitting to having a crush on Noen the night before, and asking whether the reading audience believed that you and Noen would make a good couple or not.

The reactions from fans were as entertaining as you figured - with many of your fans trying to come up with ship names for you and Noen and tagging him in clips from your stream - but then there were the less than entertaining reactions. Many people, whether they were Noen’s fans or just people who wanted to hate on you you weren’t sure, were saying you had mentioned Noen’s name just for clout, or that your “crush” was nothing more than an infatuation over his looks.

It wasn’t until your phone rang that you were finally pulled out of your trance and back to the real world. Your friend’s name lit up on your screen, and it took you a moment to collect yourself before you answered.

“(Y/N), have you been online yet today?” she asked.

You sighed and nodded, then remembered she couldn’t actually see you. “Yeah, I’ve been scrolling for the past two hours on Twitter.”

“You haven’t checked your Twitch page, or YouTube account yet?”

Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “No? Should I?”

“You definitely should.”

You put her on speaker and switched to your Twitch app. You were shocked to see that you had skyrocketed in subs overnight, same with your YouTube page. You had gained a solid ten thousand subscribers on both platforms, and it was still rising by the second.

“So this situation has gained me more subscribers, who cares? That’s not why I talked about Noen on stream,” you said.

“Oh no, honey. It isn’t just the situation that has given you new subscribers. Go check Noen’s Twitter.”

You knew what she was implying, but you had to see it for your own eyes. You immediately opened the Twitter app again and typed in Noen’s name. You were brought to his Twitter page, where his most recent tweet was a link to the clip from your stream along with a caption that read, “When your internet crush calls you *their* internet crush”.

You covered your mouth in shock. You were sure you were about to start screaming, but you were so speechless that you couldn’t force any sounds from your mouth.

“I’m assuming by the silence that you’ve seen it,” your friend said after a prolonged moment of silence.

“D-Did he just c-call me his...?” you trailed off, unable to finish your sentence.

“He did,” your friend confirmed. “And both of your fans are going wild. They’ve already come up with a ship name for you, which isn’t the most clever name but I admire their spirit.”

You could barley hear what your friend was saying. You were still staring at the tweet in disbelief. Your mind could barley comprehend anything else besides the fact that your online crush thought the same as you. You were trying to tell yourself not to get too worked up, as it was most likely that nothing was going to come from this besides some gossip for a week or more, but your heart was still racing with excitement.

You gasped as a notification popped up on the top of your screen: “@/eubanks_noen is requesting to message you”.

“He’s trying to DM me,” you whisper, so silently that you could barley hear yourself.”

“What?”

“He’s trying to DM me! On Twitter!”

“What are you doing talking to me?! Go answer his DM!”

You were too focused to laugh as you hung up the phone and went into your DMs. The familiar profile picture that you saw almost every day on your timeline was the first thing you saw in your message requests. Your whole body was shaking so much that you could barley see the screen as you pressed to open it.

“hi :)”

It was a very simple message, but it was enough to make your heart race even more.

You were debating on messaging back, wondering if maybe this was a fake account or something. But you knew there was only one way to find out for sure, so you took a deep breath and responded.

“hi! :)”

His response came near seconds later: “so...we’re the internet’s hottest power couple, huh?”

You chuckled to yourself. “i guess we are. sorry if i ruined your mentions last night. i didn’t think it would blow up the way it has. i’m not all that famous online.”

“are you kidding me? you’re like one of the best twitch streamers. i’ve watched every single one of your streams, including last night’s”

You felt your face heating up, but a slight groan of embarrassment came from your lips. You were thinking of all the embarrassing things you had said and done on stream, and now wished you could just melt into the floor or erase the entire internet.

“oh that’s embarrassing. i’d say i’m not that awkward and dumb in real life, but i’m actually more so”

“i wouldn’t say you’re awkward or dumb at all. i think you’re adorable”

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed to no one in particular. If your face got any hotter, it would be on fire.

“you really know how to talk to a girl”

“i really don’t, but i’m glad you’re enjoying my attempts to flirt”

“so you’re flirting? never would’ve known”

“i know, it’s hard to tell. i’m trying to be subtle”

You continued to message Noen for a while. It felt so natural, as if you weren’t talking to someone you had been crushing on for about a year now. You were extremely glad you weren’t coming off as awkward as you normally felt.

Finally, after having been sat on the floor for a good three hours, your back began to ache and your stomach was growling so loudly in attempts to get your attention. You realized then that you had put getting breakfast on hold in order to fall deep into the hole of internet gossip that had surrounded you overnight.

“love talking to you and all, but i’m gonna have to go for a little bit. i’ve been sat on the floor basically since i woke up and i haven’t eaten yet today so my stomach is very upset with me”

“why are you on the floor? 😂”

“when i’m stressed i tend to sit down no matter where i am, and i was very stressed to see my name plastered all over social media this morning”

“why were you stressed over that?”

“it’s not something i’m exactly used to. like i said, i’m not overly famous online. i just have a small following. i’m not someone who has an article written about every little thing she says. also like i said, i didn’t expect you to see me admit that i have a crush on you last night, so i was so worried about what your reaction was going to be”

“i guess i can understand that. i haven’t had a lot written about me. i’m not a big tiktoker like some of my friends are, but i guess that’s a blessing”

You started to type another message, but paused when you saw the three dots from Noen indicating that he was typing something else.

“for what it’s worth, i’ve had a internet crush on you since you first started streaming”

Your jaw dropped at this. You had started streaming months before you even knew about Noen, which meant he had known about you before you knew about him. Just when you thought this day couldn’t get any better.

“wow! that’s quite a while. you must be one of my first subscribers then”

“i’m up there i think. i’ll wear that badge with pride”

The three dots again. You waited anxiously to see what he was about to say.

“i liked getting to talk to you today, though. maybe we could talk offline sometime, like through text or phone call. maybe meet in person eventually”

Your smile was so wide that it hurt your cheeks. “yeah, i’d really like that”

You exchanged phone numbers and added his to your contacts. You finally pulled yourself off the floor and started making a super late breakfast while also starting to edit your next video since you had also gotten such a late start on that.

You were putting your food on a plate when your phone chimed, indicating a new text message.

“btw, it’s nice to finally get to meet you internet crush :)”

“it’s nice to get to meet you, too, internet crush”

You sat at the table, your heart feeling warm. And to think, it all came true thanks to one nosy donation.

Not sure how much I like this imagine, but I hope you enjoyed anyways!

#noen eubanks #noen eubanks imagine #noen eubanks x reader #imagine #one shot #request #tiktok #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 3 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: Gene Page/AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Part three of the savior sessions. Both the reader and Negan open up about their fears on a rainy day.

Word Count: 3130

Warning: Mention of The Governor being a rapist (briefly)

Song I Wrote To: “Rain” by Ben Platt

Note: I am trying to make these as gender-neutral as possible. If you have seen me use specific pronouns or anything that counters that, let me know! Thanks! I am working on my Daryl story, but I wanted to throw this out there as I do.

--------

It was raining when you woke up.

Droplets raced down your windows and thunder rolled in the distance. You knew it would be a day that was spent mostly inside. However, you also knew you had to pay Negan a visit. 

It was odd. He had surprised you. You could still see the layers of the man he was years before, but there was something...new that wasn’t there when he stepped out of that RV and introduced himself to your people.

Since you were young, you always believed in second chances. You never really thought anyone was truly evil until the world ended. Then, you had met people like the Governor and Gareth, two men who killed who for fun, who took pleasure in the torture and destruction of others.

While Negan had done evil things, you didn’t think he was evil. If horrific acts categorize someone as unsavable, then those closest to you, and even yourself, would be considered just as bad. Nobody was innocent in the new world, but perhaps some of them could still find redemption. 

Rolling onto your back, you stared up at the ceiling as the rain pelted the roof. The drumming of it drowned out the world for just a moment and you allowed yourself just a few more seconds of peace before throwing the blanket off and getting up for the day. 

You quickly dressed and then made way your way to the window. Few people milled around in the soaked streets. A few kids splashed in puddles as their parents smiled from the cover of their porches. You watched as Gracie ran around as Aaron tried to catch her, both of them laughing the whole time. 

Your house was one of the only ones that were left unscathed from the Savior’s attack. You lived next to Rosita who would sometimes use your spare bedroom when she needed a break from her boys. However, you tended to be alone for the most part unless one of the parents asked you to watch the kids. Being a teacher before the turn, you were really the only one who was able to get the little ones to calm down and listen.

Many people figured you would be the one to take over as the full-time teacher in Alexandria, but you couldn’t do it. You loved teaching back then, but now after everything, you were so different. And while you still cared about the kids, you were now more comfortable with a gun on your hip, watching the walls, or now, chatting with a killer. 

You grabbed your coat and then headed out of your house, walking towards the infirmary. Siddiq had been experimenting with a new tea that would help improve the immune systems of the Alexandria residents as the weather turned for the worse. Laura had been his last guinea pig for a taste test and the blonde had nearly choked it down while she tried to put on a brave face. However, the doctor had seen right through her and tried again. 

You were more than willing to help him out this morning as he had stitched you up enough over the past few years. The rain soaked your hair as you walked down the road, trying to keep your jacket tucked around your neck to keep the bandage that was placed there somewhat dry. Siddiq had patched you up the day before, but you had no desire to get an infection from a ruined bandage. 

As you approached the infirmary, Siddiq was already waiting for you on the porch. “I saw you coming,” he said with a warm smile. 

“I would have been here sooner, but I slept in,” you said with an apologetic shrug. 

“It’s the weather,” Siddiq said as he picked up two mugs from the table by the door. When he handed both of them to you, you rose a brow in question. “It gets cold in that cell,” he said with a shrug of his own. You smiled slightly, oddly touched that Siddiq had thought of Negan. Then again, he was the one who had looked after the man after Rick had opened his throat. 

You took a hesitant sip of the sweet-smelling tea and then relaxed as it actually tasted pretty good. “I think you managed to get this one right, Doctor,” you said raising your cup to him. 

“Mind telling other people that?” he asked.

“I’ll spread the word, Siddiq,” you said, walking back down his steps.

“Have fun,” he teased. 

“If both of my hands weren’t occupied, I would be sending you a very rude gesture right now,” you called over your shoulder as you continued toward the main road that led to Negan’s cell.

The guard waved to you as he left his post. You figured he hadn’t been there long. You were also trying to convince Michonne to drop the guard altogether. Negan knew he would most likely be executed if he broke out and from your conversations with him, you didn’t think he would try anyway. 

Balancing the mugs in one hand, you entered the stone building, shoving the door close with your foot. “Someone has their hands full this mornin’,” Negan said as he stood by the bars. 

“Courtesy of the good doctor,” you said, approaching him and handing him a steaming mug. “Trust me, I already checked for poison.” You hadn’t but it amused him. Negan took the mug through the bars and enclosed his hands around it.

Not bothering with the chair this time, you sat on the ground by the bars, pulling your knees up. Negan joined you, leaning against the cold wall. “How was your morning?” he asked, pleasantly. You chuckled under your breath. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said shaking your head. “It’s been...wet.” Negan looked at you and you rolled your eyes. “Don’t be gross,” you warned and he raised a hand in surrender. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he said. 

“No, but you were thinking it,” you said with narrowed eyes. 

“Ah, see, would you look at that! We’re so close we can already read each other’s minds.”

“Oh, great,” you said, turning up your nose. Negan mirrored your earlier expression and rolled his own eyes. 

“So, you don’t like the rain, then?” he asked.

“I don’t care for the thunderstorms, but I like a little rain. It makes the Walkers slower and freshens up the rotten air,” you explained, sipping on your tea. 

“Yeah,” Negan agreed, “I’m not too big on the thunderstorms either. Way back when the world was still somewhat functioning, we had a massive storm that cut the power right in the middle of the school day. Kids are rambunctious enough and then you give the little assholes a power outage and well…”

“Shit hits the fan,” you concluded. 

“You sound like you have personal experience,” Negan noticed. 

“I used to teach middle and high school English,” you revealed and Negan looked at you in surprise. 

“Did you like it?”

“It was better than this,” you said with a snort. 

“Fair enough,” Negan said. You let your head fall back and that’s when he noticed the bandage on your neck. “What happened there?” Your hand came up to touch the dressing. 

“Oh, I got cut when I was helping Scott with one of the walls. Walkers snuck up on us and I tripped on a piece of metal, scratch it on my way down. No big deal, I’ve had worse.” 

“Haven’t we all,” Negan muttered and you saw a flash of something behind his eyes, but it was gone in a second. “Well, you need to be more careful (Y/N), I can’t have my BFF gettin’ munched on by a corpse.” 

“BFF?” you asked with raised brows. Negan just winked back. “Alright, Mister, today, I want to hear a story from you.”

“I thought you said you were going to tell me what your vote would be,” Negan said, turning his head to look at you, waiting. You sighed as you remembered promising him that at the end of your last conversation, but you had been doing most of the talking in these sessions and it was his turn. 

“Story first,” you told him. “Then I’ll tell you.” He looked at you annoyed for a moment before shrugging. 

“As you wish, your majesty,” he said, but then he began his story. “Alright, how about the first time I ran into a herd?” 

“Oh? Do tell,” you said, resting your elbow on your knee and watching him. 

“Right, so, it wasn’t long after the Turn. Corpses were everywhere and you couldn’t walk out the door without having to bash in some skulls. I was trying to find someplace to hold up for a few days. I was with two other people, both are dead now, but they were decent people to travel with. My wife had just died and I needed to just leave, you know?” you nodded, understanding. “I made it to Richmond and god the number of Walkers was fucking terrifying. At this point, nobody knew what the fuck was going on. Not like we do now, but it was different back then as you remember.

“We moved into the city and then when I headed into the main district, lookin’ for the old FEMA centers, that’s when we saw it. Must have been over five hundred, maybe more. It was like they were all rotating in one big circle and then the bastards saw us and...well shit, I had never run so damn fast in my life. It was like we were magnets for the things and no matter where we turned, there were more and more…” Negan let out a breath as his memories haunted him. 

“What did you do to get away?” you asked.

“Managed to get an old tow truck workin’,” he said. “Plowed that sucker right through them until we could find high ground. Wasn’t pretty, but dealing with Walkers never is.”

“I think we all learned not to go to cities again after the first time,” you said, finishing your tea. 

“You did it too?”

“Atlanta,” you said with a nod. “Though, I did it multiple times for supplies so I guess I’m the idiot here.” 

“These were the runs you went on with Glenn?” he asked and you were surprised to hear him say Glenn’s name, but you nodded nonetheless. 

“Right,” you confirmed. “Though, I wasn’t with him the day he found Rick.”

Negan was quiet then and you knew he was thinking about Glenn. A few days before, Gabriel had come to you and told you that he sometimes overheard Negan saying his victims’ names in his sleep. Negan probably didn’t even know he was doing it, but it only added to your theory that Negan felt guilt for what happened at the line-up and everything afterward. 

“The fear I felt when all those Walkers were coming for us…” Negan continued. “It was the most primal thing I had ever felt. You know how they talk about fight or flight?” 

“Yeah.”

“I never once thought to fight at that moment. All I wanted to do was run and not look back. It wasn’t until weeks later that I got sick of running and I finally made Lucille.”

“‘Lucille, give me strength’,” you quoted and his head whipped towards you. “I told you, I was good at surveillance. I guess she did more for you than we all first thought. Not just a bat after all.”

“Never was that simple,” he said and you could hear the sadness in his voice as he spoke the words.

You were wondering if you could find her out in that field. It had been years, but if by some miracle it was there, you may be able to get it. Not that you were going to give it to Negan, but maybe someday if he was let out and went looking for her, you could give that piece back to him. The thing that was hated by your people but created the resilient man before you. You figured that was something. 

“You asked me before who the first person I killed was,” you began. Negan waited patiently. “I never knew his name or if he had a family, but I remember his face and how I felt at that moment. I was terrified. We were under attack by this man who called himself The Governor. This man ran a community, a town, and he was horrible. He was a rapist, a killer, and an overall tyrant. Not somebody that would have been welcomed here or the Sanctuary.” 

“Damn right,” Negan sneered. 

“We had liberated the town and Michonne had tried to kill him so he was pissed and eventually rolled up to the gates of the prison we were living in. He blasted our towers to rubble and his men and women began killing us. We were lucky enough to be pretty strong then and we killed most of them. Daryl got his hands on some grenades and took the tank out.”

“Tank?” Negan asked. 

“I told you, son of a bitch was crazy. His people attacked and we had to defend ourselves. I was trying to wrangle all the kids with a man by the name of Tyreese. He was Sasha’s brother. He and I were almost out when this man came up and tried to kill Tyreese as he held a very young Judith in his arms.”

Taking a breath, you tried to stay calm as you recounted the events. “He was gonna kill the baby and I had one of Daryl’s knife so I just rammed it into the man’s neck. I didn’t think it would be that hard, you know? Walkers are much easier, so when the blade made contact, it almost didn’t go through. Blood flowed all over me from the artery I had severed and Tyreese ran with Judith. I watched the man die at my feet as I collected myself, but it didn’t last long. A second later and an explosion racked the courtyard and I went down. I didn’t see Tyreese or the baby until we were all reunited.”

“You did it to protect your people, to protect a child,” Negan reminded you. 

“I wasn’t upset I killed him, Negan,” you said. “I was upset at how easy it was to do it.”

“I get that,” he said and you could tell he was being honest. That was something you admired about him, he never lied if he could help it. “What happened after that?” 

“Michonne killed the Governor and I woke up just as a Walker was about to kill me. Then, Glenn came out of nowhere and killed it and I ended up staying with him and Tara as we went to find the others. On the road is where we met Rosita, Abraham, and Eugene. I didn’t know it then, but I would be killing a lot more in the next few weeks.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not and you wouldn’t be either if you knew who tried to kill us...who tried to fucking slaughter us like cows…” your fists curled in as the visuals of Terminus flashed behind your eyes.

You hadn’t realized you were shaking until you felt a hand on yours as Negan reached through the bars to calm your hands. You realized then that this was the first time he had touched you and you felt oddly comforted. You patted his hand in thanks and he withdrew it, placing it back in his lap. “So, just know you’re not the only one who has felt fear like you did in that city.”

“But you fought,” he said. 

“I did, but all I wanted to do was run. It took me a long time to run towards danger than from it. Rick, Daryl, Carol, Abe, they all taught me to fight.”

“They did a good job,” he complimented. “You are one certified badass (Y/L/N).” 

“Who told you my last name?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. 

“Judith,” he said with a grin. 

“Should have known,” you said with a small smile. 

“There it is,” Negan said, pointing at your mouth. “I like seeing you smile.” You went to roll your eyes again, but a loud crash of thunder interrupted you. You jumped. 

“Jesus,” you swore under your breath. “That is why I hate storms.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he joked and you pushed his shoulder through the bars, making him laugh. The two of you sat in silence then, listening to the rain. This was only your third time speaking to him, but you were starting to feel a kind of camaraderie between the two of you. It was strange, but it began to feel natural. You wondered if this is how Judith felt when she spoke to him, this kind of calmness. Then again, Judith could make friends with everyone.

Negan’s eyes fell closed as he breathed in deep. In the low light of the cell, you could see the shiny line of the scar that permanently marked his throat and you finally answered his question. 

“I would have voted no,” you whispered. His eyes opened slowly and his head rolled to the right to look at you. 

“Why?” he simply asked. You kept eye contact as you spoke, making sure he understood every word. 

“None of us are saints, Negan,” you began. “All of us, Hilltop, Alexandria, Kingdom, Oceanside, we’ve all killed without a second thought to protect what’s ours. I’m not saying what you did was right, but sometimes I think back to the line-up or when you set the Walkers loose on Hilltop and I can’t help but think that I would’ve done the same if the situation was reversed. Maybe not with a baseball bat, but we’ve tortured and we’ve executed.”

“So, you’re saying that you wouldn’t have killed me because you’ve done shitty things, too?” he asked. 

“There is enough death in the world already,” you said with a shrug.

“Unbeing dead isn't being alive,” Negan quotes and you tilted your head slightly. 

“E.E. Cummings was a wise man.” 

“Indeed he was,” Negan agreed with a smile. “Thanks for saying that.” 

“I told you I didn’t hate you and I meant it. To an outsider, we’re both monsters,” you explained. “I imagine that if I had been with the Saviors, I would have seen this side as the villains. All about perception, my friend.” 

“Ah, so you agree,” he said with a grin, “we are friends.”

“Oh, shut up.”

TAGS:  @thanossexual​ @yes-sir-hotchner​ @boom-bunny​ @delusionalteenagewhispers​ @sophia-gwendolyn​ @ritajammer21

#walkerwords #savior sessions #twd #twd imagines #negan imagine #negan x reader #reader insert #The Walking Dead #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead fanfiction #TWD season 9 #Prison Negan

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 21

Y’all.

That’s it. That’s the preface.

(Oh, also @what-does-mine-say is responsible for soft Matt in this so don’t look at me, I swear to baby Jesus.)

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 21/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x Cash Wheeler and Adam Page x OFC x Matt Jackson

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: Language; angst to the nth degree.

Tag squad: @freshlysqueezedmox @gabbynorth98 @librathepheonix13 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @exe-sadboi-exe

Catch up on previous parts here.

Callie only stayed one extra night at the hotel in Jacksonville. She’d booked the room through Thursday; it was non-refundable. But she couldn’t stay there another day. She was tired of washing and wearing the same five outfits she’d packed when she walked out more than two weeks ago. She was tired of living in limbo. So, before the sun had even come up Monday morning, she checked out, got in her car, and set out for Virginia.

It was just under an eight-hour drive, which meant she had an awful lot of time to think about what she would say to Adam. And the more she thought, the more solid she became in her decision.  The longer she drove, the more every sad country song streaming through the radio seemed to tell her what she needed to do—no matter how bad it would hurt. She refused to sit around and wait any longer. As far as she was concerned, they were only delaying the inevitable.

It was almost four o’clock when she pulled into Adam’s driveway. She parked next to his truck and cut the ignition. She was exhausted from the drive, and despite all the time she’d had to prepare herself she still wasn’t ready to confront him, not mentally or emotionally. But she didn’t drive all day to turn around. She had to do it, ready or not.

The world was quiet as she walked up to the front door. It was unlocked. She went inside. It wasn’t long before she heard the sound of someone coming quickly down the stairs. Adam’s blue eyes looked confused at the sight of her. Not relieved. Not happy. Not hopeful. Just confused. It broke Callie all over again.

“Hey,” he said.

She let out a rueful breath. “Hey? I’ve been gone more than two weeks and that’s all you have to say to me?”

He frowned. “I’m sorry, Cal. But I wasn’t expecting to see you. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

She picked up her hand and let it fall back down in frustration, her keys dangling from her first two fingers. “What would’ve been the point?”

It hit him when she said that. It was written all over his face, clear as day. “You’re not staying.”

Callie’s nose burned. She shook her head, a bubble in her throat. “No. I’m not.”

She crossed into the kitchen and pulled a glass out of a cabinet to get herself some water. Her hand shook as she carried it to the fridge and filled it up. She took a drink. Adam watched the entire time, mute.

Callie walked to the kitchen island and set the glass down. She drew in a shaky breath—and then she told him what she’d been thinking, over and over, for the last eight-plus hours.

“I can’t go on like this anymore, Adam. I can’t sit around waiting anymore. It’s been more than two weeks, and the only time I heard from you was when you burst into my hotel room with Alex demanding to know why I’d been out with Cash. Do you know how that’s made me feel? It feels like you don’t care about us enough to even try. To even pick up the phone and send a text that says you’re thinking of me, or you’re sorry, or something. Anything.” She shook her head. “You can’t even look at me right now.”

Adam’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. They were so sad. Ashamed. “How can I, Cal?” he asked. “I know what I’ve done. I know how bad I’ve hurt you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes!”

“Then why haven’t you tried to fix it?”

Tears filled her eyes and the room went hazy. Adam looked away again. He didn’t have an answer for her. He didn’t have an answer for anything anymore.

Callie’s voice wavered as she spoke. “I have no choice but to be selfish now. I have to look out for myself, and I can’t sit around in limbo while you figure out if you even want to be with me anymore. What sort of self-respecting woman just waits for her boyfriend to decide if he still loves her?”

“I do still love you,” he quietly said.

She shook her head, tears spilling over. “But not enough. It’s not enough, Adam, and I don’t just want to stay in this because it’s what’s convenient.”

She wiped her tears away. Adam looked back at her, mute. She couldn’t stand there and listen to the silence a second longer.

“I’ll go get what I can.” She walked past him and up the stairs to their bedroom. His bedroom. It was just his bedroom now. She pulled her spare set of luggage from the closet and started packing, clothes, shoes, toiletries, everything she needed and anything that would fit. Adam appeared in the bedroom, a dejected look on his face.

“You don’t have to do this now. I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

“No, I do have to do it now,” she insisted.

More silence. And then, “Do you have somewhere to go?”

She stiffened. “Yes,” she returned, but she didn’t tell him where. She didn’t think it would be fair to tell him where. Thankfully, he didn’t ask.

“Alright,” he breathed. And then that was that. He turned and left the room without so much as another word. It only proved to Callie that she wasn’t the one he was fighting for.

She made quick work of filling up the luggage, desperate to get out of the house that she’d once called home. She lugged it all down the stairs and to the front door. Adam stood in the kitchen, a glass of whiskey already in his hand. His eyes were glassy and red.

“I’m sorry, Cal,” he breathed.

She frowned. “Me too,” she said, and she walked out the door for the last time.

She didn’t cry as she pulled her bags to her car and threw them in her trunk. She didn’t have any tears left. She got behind the steering wheel and started the ignition, and as she pulled out of Adam’s driveway and back onto the road, she made a phone call. It rang once, twice. And then Matt’s voice floated through the speakers of her car.

“Hey. How’d it go?”

“It went,” she answered. Translation: I don’t want to talk about it. “I’m on my way to the airport now.”

“Alright,” he said. “Please drive safe. You’ve driven a lot today.”

“It’s only another hour-fifteen. I’ll be fine.” She chewed on her lip, anxious. “Are you sure your offer still stands?” It was a little late to back out now—she’d already bought the ticket. But she couldn’t help but feel guilty that it was Matt who she was turning to.

“Of course,” he assured. “What time is your flight?”

“9:05.”

She could almost see him nod on the other end. “Alright. Then I’ll see you around 11:30 pacific.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Typically, Alex was the type of person who liked to figure out her shit on her own. But this time, she needed to talk to someone about what she was going through. Maybe if she talked it out, it would help her figure out what the hell she was thinking and feeling. Obviously, she couldn’t talk to Callie or Adam, and she didn’t want to talk to Chuck or Trent (and Jim was completely out of the question). Which left just one person for her to call on: Kris.

“Alright, I need to make sure I have everything straight, because you just hit me with a lot,” Kris said through their FaceTime call. Alex had just spent the previous thirty minutes downloading her on everything that had happened since her injury. She didn’t blame her for needing a recap.

“So you ended things with Kenny the day I got injured so that you could be with Cash,” she started.

“Correct,” Alex confirmed.

“And then Cash ended things with you because Kenny gave you a locket and told you he loved you and got you all confused about how you feel.”

“More or less.”

“And then Adam apparently admitted that he has feelings for you, too?”

“Apparently,” Alex breathed.

Kris shook her head. “Your life is a certifiable soap opera, dude.”

“I know,” Alex agreed with a roll of her eyes. “I wish whoever the hell is writing it would hurry up and tell me the fucking ending.”

Kris gave her a sympathetic frown. “Well, despite everything you’ve told me—and like I said, it was a lot—there’s still one thing you haven’t.”

Alex’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“How you’re feeling.”

The compassion in Kris’s tone caused Alex’s sinuses to burn and tears to stab at the back of her eyes. No one had asked her that. Not one person, since this whole ordeal had started. And now that someone had, she couldn’t help but unload.

“I feel empty. Emptier than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. I went from falling in love with Cash, to realizing that I might still love Kenny while falling in love with Cash, and it tore me apart. And now… I don’t know what I feel. All those feelings are still there, but I don’t know if I wish that Cash and I were still together or if I want to move forward with Kenny. And I’m mad. I’m so fucking mad at myself for the things I’ve done; for hurting people I care about for no good reason. And I’m fucking furious at Adam for being so goddamn selfish. He knows what I’m going through. He’s known the whole fucking time and on Saturday he acted like all he cared about were his feelings.”

Her voice broke, and the tears that she’d been fighting to hold back finally spilled over, streaming down her face, hot and angry. “I’m sorry—”

“No,” Kris firmly returned. “Don’t you dare apologize. You needed to get that out.”

Alex tried to wipe her cheeks dry, but more tears kept falling. “I’m tired of feeling like this,” she choked. “But I have no idea what I’m supposed to do to fix it.”

Kris’s brow puckered in thought. It was clear even through Alex’s tears that she was debating saying something. “What?” she pressed.

“I was just thinking,” Kris started. “I read somewhere once that if you fall in love with two people you should choose the second, because if you truly loved the first then you wouldn’t have fallen in love with the second. So… that would be Cash, right?”

Alex bit the inside of her lip in contemplation. “I don’t know.”

Kris looked confused. “What? What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Because,” she breathed in frustration. “If you include last year, then yeah, Cash is second. But if you’re only talking about the last couple months, then wouldn’t Kenny technically be second?”

“But you’ve already been down this road with Kenny.”

“But still,” she quietly returned. She closed her eyes. Her head was starting to hurt.

“Do you want my honest advice?”

Alex reopened her eyes. “Of course,” she said.

“Alright, well here it is: if you’re this confused and you really don’t know what you want, then I think you need to just step back from the entire situation. You need to take care of you, Alex. That’s what’s most important. And after that… the things that are meant to be will work themselves out.”

Alex stared at the screen, her vision going distant and blurry as Kris’s words sunk in. They were hard to hear, but the truth was never easy to digest. All these weeks she’d contended with guilt and hurt and confusion and regret—and her own happiness had gotten lost in the process. She needed to find it again, and the only way to do it was to focus on herself.

“You’re probably right,” she admitted.

“I know it sucks,” Kris said. “But you deserve to be happy. And none of this is making you happy.”

“No shit.”

Kris pouted. “I wish I could actually be there for you. I’d go smack all three of them.”

Alex gave a watery laugh. “It’s the thought that counts.” She checked the time; it was a little after 5:00 p.m. “Well, I should probably go feed myself. I haven’t had anything to eat today except a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch this morning.”

Kris’s eyebrows arched. “Yes, please go eat. And don’t have Cinnamon Toast Crunch for dinner, too!”

“Yes, mom.”

They said goodbye, and Alex felt a little bit lighter; less burdened. Her heart still felt broken. But, for the first time in weeks, she had hope that it wouldn’t stay that way.

* * * * * * * * * *

Just as Matt had predicted, Callie’s plane touched down at Los Angeles International Airport just before 11:45 p.m. pacific time. She’d slept nearly the entire five-and-a-half-hour flight, and as she walked through the terminal to baggage claim, she couldn’t help but notice that she felt more energized than she had in weeks. The hustle and bustle of LAX was welcoming and familiar; the warm West Coast air filled her with a sense of nostalgia and comfort. And when she saw Matt waiting for her at arrivals, a smile on his face, she couldn’t help but propel herself forward and jump into his arms. Relieved.

“How was your flight?” he asked as he embraced her. “Not too bad, I guess?”

“It was perfect.” She stepped back from him and smiled. “Left right on time and I slept almost the whole way.”

He nodded. “Well then I guess you don’t need this.”

He gestured with the Starbucks cup in his hand. Callie had been so happy to see him that she hadn’t even noticed. “You got me coffee? You didn’t have to do that!”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I only got you one because I wanted one.”

Callie playfully rolled her eyes. The smirk on his face said otherwise.

“Decaf caramel macchiato, right?”

She nodded as she took the cup from him. “You remembered my order?”

“Yeah. It’s not like it’s anything crazy. Well, except the decaf part.”

Callie smiled and took a sip, hoping the cup would block the blush that had crept into her cheeks.

“Alright, well let’s get out of here,” Matt said as he grabbed the handle of one of her suitcases. “It’s over an hour drive back to my place.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie had worried that the drive to Matt’s house would be awkward. Even more, she worried he would ask her about what had happened at Adam’s house. But it turned out she didn’t need to worry at all. They’d just listened to music and talked about whatever; anything other than the current circumstances. How it felt to be back in California. What she’d missed most about it. Things they’d done together when she’d still lived there. It was light; comfortable. Part of her had worried that she would instantly regret flying out to stay with Matt. But the only thing she regretted was that it had taken her breaking up with Adam to finally come back home.

It was after one in the morning when they arrived. Matt carried both her suitcases through the front door and led her back to the guest room. It looked like it had been recently cleaned. She wondered if he’d done that for her.

“I’ll let you get settled,” he said as he put her suitcases next to the bed. “If you need anything, I’m just at the top of the stairs to the left.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Thank you, Matt. I really appreciate this.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. You can stay as long as you want.”

He started for the door—but then Callie had a thought. “Hey.” Matt turned back around, an expectant look on his face. “Um, I know it’s late, but between my five-hour sleep on the flight and the sugar in the coffee I’m not exactly tired. So, I don’t know… do you maybe want to watch a movie, or something?”

Callie immediately felt silly for asking. It was after one in the morning and Matt had just driven nearly three hours round-trip to pick her up from the airport. He probably just wanted to go to bed.

But then he gave her a crooked grin. “Yeah. We can watch a movie.”

She blushed again, and she was thankful for the dim light in the room.

Matt disappeared out the door, and Callie tossed open her suitcases and dug around for her pajama shorts and a comfy t-shirt, eager to get out of the clothes she’d been wearing for almost a full twenty-four hours across God knows how many states. As she finished changing, she noticed one of Matt’s hoodies hanging from the doorknob of the closet. It looked comfortable. She took it off the doorknob and pulled it on. It felt just as comfortable as it looked. Content, she threw her hair into a high messy ponytail and met Matt in the great room. He sat on the couch, his phone in his hand. A corner of his mouth quirked up when he saw her.

“Is that my hoodie?”

She smirked. “Yeah. It looked comfy. Is it alright if I wear it?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Something about the look in his eyes told her that Matt thought it was more than just “alright” that she was wearing his hoodie. Callie fidgeted and changed the subject. “So, what do you want to watch?”

He nodded toward the media cabinet. “See if there’s anything you like over there. If not, there’s always Netflix.”

Callie walked over to the media cabinet. It didn’t take long for her to find something that piqued her interest. She pulled a pink DVD box from the cabinet and held it up. “This,” she happily decided.

Matt’s brow furrowed. “Mean Girls? You’re gonna make me sit through that?”

“It’s in your collection,” she flatly pointed out.

He cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, Nick’s.”

She smirked again as she walked over and handed it to him. “Uh huh. Sure.”

He didn’t make any arguments as he took it from her and stood to put the DVD in the player. Callie sat down on the couch and made herself comfortable underneath a throw blanket, pulling her legs up. She grinned at Matt as he made his way back over and sat down next to her.

“Wanna hear something funny?” she asked.

“What?”

“So, after Kenny and Alex split up, she told Adam that the Elite were like the Plastics.”

She giggled as she watched him, awaiting his reaction. His face screwed up as he pressed play on the remote. “Please tell me you’re not being serious.”

“Deadly,” she confirmed. “She said that Kenny is Gretchen and Nick is Karen… and you’re Regina George.”

“What?” he shot. “Well, if that’s the case then Alex is Janis and Chuck, Trent, and Orange are collectively Damian.”

Callie let out a loud burst of laughter and covered her mouth with her hand. “So you are a fan of the movie,” she teased.

He pursed his lips. “Just shut up and watch it.”

She gently kicked him with her foot, but he caught her ankle and pulled her feet onto his lap. Callie adjusted so that she laid on the couch, her legs draped across him under the blanket and his hand on her shin, slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth across her skin. And it didn’t feel strange, watching the movie with Matt like that. It shocked her that she didn’t miss it being Adam. And even though she’d said she wasn’t tired, it wasn’t long before she closed her eyes and was lulled into sleep by the comfort of his touch.

“Callie.”

She heard Matt’s voice as if in a dream, half awake. The movie still played in the background. “Hm?”

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

She felt him gently take her hand, and she let him pull her up and off the couch and lead her back to the guest room. He helped her into bed, and as he pulled the covers up and over her, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. She pressed a half-conscious kiss to his cheek, the stubble of his beard rough against her lips.

“Goodnight,” he said, and Callie rolled over and slept.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie didn’t wake until almost 10:30 the next morning. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in that late. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept that well. She pushed back the covers and stretched, and she realized that she was still wearing Matt’s hoodie; she’d slept through the night in it. She remembered him helping her to bed, her pressing a kiss to his cheek as he said goodnight. Her stomach did a little flip. She tried not to dwell on it as she climbed out of bed, grabbed her phone, and walked into the great room. Matt was in the kitchen.

“Morning,” he greeted with a smile. He was already dressed, his hair tied back in its usual bun at the nape of his neck. “How’d you sleep?”

“Really good, actually,” Callie answered as she took a seat at the kitchen table. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

He shrugged. “I thought about it, but you had a long day yesterday. I figured you needed the rest.”

She didn’t say anything in return. She knew he was right.

“I have some bacon and toast ready here for you,” he said. “Do you want eggs? I didn’t want them to get cold, so I held off making any.”

She shook her head. “The bacon and toast are fine. But I will take some tea if you have any?”

Matt smiled. “I actually went and bought some because I know you like it.”

He set to work making her up a cup, and Callie felt that flutter in her gut again. But then her phone chirped. It was a text from Britt.

How’s hotel living?

She stared blankly at the screen until it went black. Britt thought she was still in Jacksonville. Callie wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell her the truth.

“Everything alright?”

She looked up at Matt and nodded. “Yeah, just Britt checking in with me.”

She left it at that and opened the text. On second thought, she didn’t want to lie to Britt. If she did, it would only make it seem like her staying with Matt was more than it was. I’m actually in California.

“Does she know you’re here?” Matt asked as she pressed “send.”

“She does now.”

He nodded. “Does Adam know you’re here?”

Britt texted her back. With Big Brother Buck???

Callie internally rolled her eyes as she responded to her. Yes, she sent back. And then to Matt, “No.” She looked down at her lap. “I just thought it would be better not to tell him.”

He carried over a plate of crispy bacon and buttered toast and a steaming hot mug of tea. “I get it,” he said as he set them down in front of her. “Adam and I haven’t exactly been the best of friends lately.”

“Thanks,” Callie said as she picked up the tea. She blew on it and took a sip, relishing in the taste and warming comfort of it. He’d made it just right.

“So, do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?” he cautiously asked. “I understand if you don’t… but it might be good to just get it off your chest.”

Callie’s phone chirped again, but she silenced it and placed it screen-down on the table. She didn’t feel like dealing with Britt’s probing questions at the moment, and Matt was right. It would be good if she got it off her chest.

“He barely said a word to me when I showed up yesterday. He didn’t even try to stop me from leaving, and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t even try to fight for me.” She wrapped her hands around the mug, feeling its warmth radiate through her skin. “The only thing he did say was that he still loved me.”

Matt looked back at her. “Do you still love him?”

She let out a sigh. “I do. But sometimes being in love isn’t enough. Just saying it isn’t enough. I need to feel it, too. I need you to show me that you want me.” She blushed, suddenly realizing what she was saying. “God, that sounds super clingy, doesn’t it?” she said as picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite.

But Matt shook his head. “No. It makes perfect sense to me. And if Adam doesn’t want to show you, then it’s his loss. There are other guys out there who will.”

Callie’s chewing slowed to a stop as she looked into Matt’s eyes. Their dark brown color was so warm, so different than Adam’s bright blue. But their color wasn’t the only thing about them that set them apart from Adam’s. She saw emotion and truth in Matt’s eyes, two things that she hadn’t seen in Adam’s eyes in weeks.

And suddenly Callie thought—maybe she shouldn’t have told Britt where she was.

* * * * * * * * * *

“So, what’s the verdict, doc?”

Alex looked hopefully up at the trainer as he finished examining her ankle. She’d come to see him as soon as she could after arriving at Daily’s Place, eager to learn her prognosis. As much as she’d rested her ankle over the last two weeks, she expected to get the all-clear.

“I think you’re good,” he said. “But I want you to rest it one more week just to be sure.”

Alex wilted a bit, but she nodded. “Alright. It’s not like I’ve got anything going on anyway.”

She climbed down from the exam table, pulled on her sneaker, and went out the door with a wave. Now that that was done, she was headed straight back to the Best Friends locker room—and that was exactly where she intended to stay for the rest of the show. She would not go to catering, she would not accompany Chuck and Trent for the tag team gauntlet match, she would not pass “Go” or collect $200. There were far too many people she didn’t care to run into lurking around the halls of the arena.

Like Cash, for instance, who had just stepped out of FTR’s locker room into the hall. Because of course he had.

“Hey,” he said. Just to say something. It would have been rude not to say something.

“Hey,” Alex returned. They were only a few feet apart, but it felt like there was a massive, impassable ocean between them. She hated it. She couldn’t bear to be around it a second longer. “Um, I was just headed back from the trainer, so…” she awkwardly trailed off, unsure what to say next. So, she said the only thing she could think of to get herself out of there. “Well, good luck in the gauntlet match.”

She started to walk past him; but then Cash spoke up.

“How’s your ankle?”

Alex blinked, somewhat surprised that he’d asked. That he seemingly cared to ask. “Oh, it’s good. I feel fine, but he wants me to rest it another week just to be sure.”

He nodded. “That’s good,” he said, and Alex’s gaze went distant as she realized the sad irony of her choice of words. Ankle aside, she didn’t feel fine.

“Will you be out there for the gauntlet match? With Chuck and Trent.”

She focused back in on him. “Um, no,” she answered. She glanced down at her hands, anxiously picking at her nails. “So, you don’t have to worry about that.”

She looked back up at him. His face fell. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She chewed on the inside of her mouth. How had he meant it, then? Had he hoped she would be out there? No, she couldn’t think that; she couldn’t hope that. It would probably only leave her disappointed. “Well, like I said… good luck tonight.”

She tried to leave again, but he said something that made her stop.

“Do you really mean that?”

Alex looked back at him. It didn’t seem like he thought she was being insincere in wishing him good luck. Instead, it looked like he genuinely wanted to know if she meant it. And the truth was, she did.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I do. I mean, of course I want Chuck and Trent to win; I want them to be the champions. But you and Dax deserve it, too. I know how hard you’ve worked to get here.”

Cash looked into her eyes. He gave her a sad, grateful smile. “Thank you, Alex,” he genuinely returned. “That means a lot.”

She nodded. She really needed to go now. “Just do me a favor: if Chuck and Trent don’t beat the Bucks, kick their ass extra hard for me, alright?”

He smiled again, more lighthearted that time. “Will do.”

Alex gave him one final grin, and then she turned and continued down the hall. That interaction hadn’t been as painful as she’d thought it would be at the start, but it still left a part of her wanting. She thought back to the conversation she’d had with Kris on Monday, to that thing she’d told her she’d read somewhere. If you fall in love with two people you should choose the second, because if you truly loved the first then you wouldn’t have fallen in love with the second. Then there was that other thing she’d told her: You’ve already been down this road with Kenny. Maybe she was right. Maybe Cash was the second.

But she didn’t have a chance to think about it. The Best Friends locker room was just a few yards ahead. The door opened—and Adam walked out. He stopped when he saw her.

“Oh, hey.”

Alex slowed to a stop. She was nervous to see him; and yes, a little bit angry, too. They hadn’t spoken since that night at the bar, when he’d sat across from her and so selfishly admitted his feelings. But then she noticed his eyes. They were bloodshot and glassy. He didn’t look sober.

“Hey,” she cautiously returned. “What’s going on?”

He took a few steps closer. “Um, I was just looking for you,” he explained as he pointed his thumb back at the locker room door. “Trent said you’d gone to see the trainer.”

She frowned up at him. “I don’t want to talk, Ad—”

“Callie ended it.”

Alex stopped. She felt for him, she really did. But she wasn’t surprised. She didn’t know what to say.

Adam swallowed. “She, um. She showed up at the house on Monday and told me it was over. She packed everything she could and left.”

Alex’s brow furrowed. “Is she still staying with Britt?”

He let out a soft, wry laugh. “That’s the thing. I didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t say. But uh, I was just walking back from catering to my locker room. I passed by hair and makeup and… I overheard Britt tell Penelope that she’s staying with Matt.”

The bottom dropped out of Alex’s stomach. She couldn’t believe it. She expected something like that from Matt Jackson, that fucking cocky asshole, but not Callie. And, suddenly, she wasn’t angry at Adam anymore. She was angry for him.

“She broke up with me and then immediately went running to Matt, of all the fucking people she could have gone to. And I know, I just know he loves that she did.”

He gritted his teeth as he spoke, becoming angrier with every word. Alex’s heart was broken for him. “I’m sorry, Ad—”

He cut her off. “Don’t be. That asshole’ll get what’s coming to him.”

And with that he walked off, leaving Alex wondering—and worrying—what exactly he meant.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie’s heart hadn’t stopped racing since the tag team gauntlet match had started. Matt and Nick had already beaten the Natural Nightmares, and now they were in the midst of their second match against Best Friends. If they won, they would face FTR immediately after. If they beat FTR, they’d get a title shot against Kenny and Adam at All Out in just over a week. And the longer Callie watched, the more she realized: she wanted the Young Bucks to win. Tonight, and at All Out.

Matt had taken out Chuck with a chop to the knee on the ring apron, and now he and Nick had Trent isolated in the ring. Nick tagged in Matt; Matt grabbed Trent and hung him up on the ropes. Nick went to the top turnbuckle and hit a perfect 450 splash. Matt went for the cover—but Trent kicked out at two-and-a-half.

“Dammit,” Callie muttered.        

“I see who you’re rooting for,” Britt commented with a smirk.

“Well, obviously I don’t want Best Friends to win,” she returned.

Britt’s eyebrows arched. “No love lost between you and Alex then, huh?”

Callie didn’t comment. Alex was the next-to-last person she wanted to think about right now. The last was Adam.

“So how are things going with you and Big Brother Buck?” Britt asked.

Callie sent her a sidelong glance across the locker room. It was obvious she assumed something was going on between her and Matt. “We’re just friends, Britt,” she said. But she couldn’t help but add, “But I’m glad I decided to go out there.”

Britt’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Oh, really? Professor Jackson was a good host, huh? Did he teach you anything else while you were out there?”

“Britt!”

“Relax,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m just teasing you.”

Callie pursed her lips. She wasn’t entirely sure she was just teasing her. But her attention abruptly was drawn back to the TV when she heard Chris Jericho proclaim, “Oh look at this! Hangman!”

Callie’s brow furrowed. Hangman? She didn’t see Adam anywhere. But then the camera cut to the right side of the ring, and she couldn’t help but see him. He held onto Nick’s leg. Nick tried to break free, but he couldn’t. And then, Trent rolled up Matt and counted one-two-three.

“Oh shit,” Britt said.

Callie couldn’t believe her eyes. She felt herself starting to shake as she watched, unable to look away, trying to process what she’d just seen. Adam’s eyes were red and glassy. Nick and Matt stared at him—shocked, betrayed, confused. Matt screamed at Adam to look at him, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.  

“I need to go.” She stood from the couch and pushed her way out of the locker room, heart racing, thoughts going a million miles a minute. So fast that she couldn’t make sense of any of them. She couldn’t make sense of what Adam had just done, no matter how bad his relationship had gotten with the rest of the Elite.

She arrived at Gorilla just as Matt and Nick returned backstage. She didn’t even get the chance to open her mouth before Matt yelled, “Did you know he was gonna do that?”

She gaped at him, taken aback. Angry that he could even think that. “No! Of course I didn’t know, are you kidding me?”

He raked a hand through his sweat-damp hair and turned away, pacing. But then he abruptly stopped. “I bet I know who fucking did.”

He took off down the hall. Nick followed, just as heated as his brother. Callie practically had to run to keep up with them. “What are you doing?” she asked—but she got her answer when she saw the door to Best Friends’ dressing room just ahead. She panicked.

“Matt, don’t,” she implored. But he didn’t listen. He charged in without warning, sending the door flying against the wall with a loud bang! Callie had no choice but to go in after him.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

Alex nearly jumped a foot in the air from where she sat on the couch at the unexpected boom of Matt’s voice. But as soon as she got her bearings, her shock was instantly replaced with anger. “What the fuck, Matt?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he spat as he stalked toward her. “Did you put Adam up to what he just did out there?”

Alex’s lips parted in shock. “You’ve lost your goddamn mind,” she said.

“Have I?”

“Yeah, you fucking have.”            

“Cut the bullshit, Alex!” he proclaimed. “We all know you have every reason in the world to sabotage us, and you have Adam wrapped around your fucking finger just like you do Kenny!”

Callie reeled when Matt said that. But she didn’t have time to fully process it before Alex stood from the couch and stepped right up to him. Her eyes darkened.

“Nick, if you don’t want to become an only child then I suggest you get your brother out of here right now.”

Matt let out a low laugh. But before Nick could step in the door flew open again. Kenny hurried in, a mixture of panic and confusion on his face.

“Oh, perfect timing,” Matt sarcastically muttered.

“What the hell is going on?” Kenny asked. “I could hear you yelling from all the way down the hall!”  

“Matt burst in here screaming at me about how he thinks I had something to do with what Adam just did,” Alex answered.

“What?” Kenny hissed at Matt. But Matt ignored him.

“Oh, quit the innocent act, Alex!”

“I AM innocent!”

“Alright, come on,” Kenny took Alex by the waist and gently pushed her back as she tried to advance on Matt. But she wasn’t done.

“If you want to know why Adam sabotaged you then maybe you should take a look in the fucking mirror!”

Matt’s brow lowered. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Quit the innocent act, Matt,” she spat his own words back in his face. “How long did you wait to swoop in once you found out Callie and Adam were having problems?”

“What?” Matt charged. “I didn’t swoop in. I was being her friend.”

“By inviting her to come stay with you in California?”

The room went quiet; shocked. Callie’s heart jumped into her throat. How the hell did Alex know that she’d been in California? Did that mean Adam knew? He must. Her eyes flicked to Matt. He looked just as caught as her.

“You did what?” Kenny gaped. He glanced between Matt and Callie, eyes wide, waiting for an explanation. Matt bit down on his jaw.

“Like I said, I was just being her friend.”

“Oh my God,” Kenny pinched the bridge of his nose. It got Callie to finally speak up.

“There is nothing going on between Matt and me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Alex charged.

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” she returned. “How many guys do you have dangling on a line right now, Alex? Three? Four? I honestly can’t keep up.”

Alex took a threatening step forward, but Kenny pushed her back again. “Don’t bother, it’s not even worth it,” he said to her.

Callie scoffed. “Defending her like always.”

“Yeah, I am,” he returned. “Because she’s right. It’s no wonder Hangman threw the match with you two going behind his back like that.”

Matt’s mouth dropped. Betrayed. “Are you serious? Callie and I are just friends!”

“You’re supposed to be ADAM’S friend!”

Alex yelled so forcefully that it took her by surprise. But she was angry. She was so angry for Adam’s sake, and she couldn’t hold back any longer. “The only thing he’s ever wanted is your approval! That’s it! And your head is shoved so far up your own goddamn ass that you can’t see it! So just for one second, can you please pull it out and imagine—can you fucking imagine just for one goddamn second how it must have felt for him to find out secondhand from Britt-fucking-Baker that as soon as his girlfriend broke up with him she hopped a plane to fly clear across the country to stay with someone who’s supposed to be HIS friend?”

She finally stopped, out of breath, voice hoarse, dizzy from yelling. And then, the sound of the ring bell came from the TV. The last match of the gauntlet, Best Friends vs. FTR. She’d completely forgotten about it, what with Matt storming in on her. She turned to look. Her face fell as the ref raised Cash and Dax’s arms in victory. “Shit,” she cursed. But she didn’t have time to dwell on it when Matt spoke up again.

“Adam’s insecurities aren’t my problem,” he said. “If he has an issue with me giving my friend a place to stay, then tell him he can come talk to me like a man. Not sneak up on my brother and cost us a fucking title shot. What he’s feeling is personal. Interfering in our match is business.”

With that, he turned and stalked back out of the locker room, pushing his way through the door. Nick cast disappointed eyes at Kenny before he followed after his brother. Callie looked at Alex. She shook her head, her expression angry, and then she turned and walked out the door.

Alex’s shoulders slumped. Her head was pounding and her ears ringing, adrenaline still coursing through her. “What a fucking asshole,” she breathed.

Kenny gripped her arm. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “I just can’t believe he thinks I would tell Adam to do that.”

He frowned. “You know how Matt gets when he’s angry. He jumps to conclusions.”

She nodded as she drew in a breath, trying to calm her nerves. She looked up at him. “Um, thank you for coming in here. I don’t think I would’ve wanted to deal with that on my own.”

“Of course,” he softly said. “But you tore him a new one, so I think you would’ve been fine.”

He gave her a lopsided grin, and she couldn’t help but return it. There was that feeling again, those three little-big words. But, at the moment, there were more pressing matters than her complicated feelings for Kenny. “Well, I’m gonna go meet Chuck and Trent. I’m sure they’re not happy.”

Kenny nodded. “Yeah, go.”

Alex nodded and, somewhat reluctantly, made for the door. But she stopped and looked back at him, a thought occurring to her. “About the text you sent me… I want you to know that I’m not mad at you, Kenny. I’m mad at myself. And because of that… I do need some time.”

He nodded again, his blue eyes soft. “I know, Alex. And I understand.”

She gave him a thankful smile, and then she went out the door, her heart a little stronger than it had been five minutes ago.

* * * * * * * * * *

Matt couldn’t wait for Adam to come talk to him and Nick. Part of it was because he was still so angry, but it was mostly because he knew Adam wouldn’t come talk to them. He was a coward. Only cowards would do what he’d done tonight. So, he decided that he had no choice but to go confront him himself.

He stalked through the halls of Daily’s Place, Nick close behind. They found Adam right where they expected him to be.

“Of course you’re at the bar!” Nick shouted. “Of course you are!”

Adam stood there, mute, a drink in his hand. There were two more drinks sitting on the bar. It was obvious he was waiting for someone. Matt let out a laugh.

“Are you expecting someone, Hangman?” he asked with a gesture at the drinks. “Are you kidding me?”

Adam didn’t answer. He still couldn’t look at him; at either of them.

“Why’d you do it, huh?” Nick pressed, getting right in his face. “You cost us a title match. Why? Are you afraid to face us again, is that why?”

“No, he’s insecure!” Matt proclaimed. “He’s insecure about his friendships, he’s insecure about his relationship, and it all finally pushed him to this.”

Adam finally looked at him when he said that. Angry. Matt could see it in the set of his jaw, in the tension in his shoulders, in his bloodshot and glazed-over eyes. But there wasn’t just anger in his eyes; there was also guilt and shame. He’d done this to himself. He pushed his friends and his girlfriend away—and he knew it. But Matt didn’t feel sorry for him. Not anymore.

He stepped closer. “Apparently, all you’ve ever wanted was our approval. Well, guess what: you had it, Hangman. You had it. But not anymore.”

Adam opened his mouth—but Matt snatched his drink from his hand before he could speak. He didn’t want to hear anything he had to say.

“And you know what? It’s about damn time someone told you the truth. You’re nothing but a drunk.”

He tossed the whiskey in Adam’s face. And then Matt said something that he’d been wanting to say to Adam for months.

“You’re out of the Elite.”

With that, he and Nick turned and left Adam there at the bar, covered in alcohol, alone.

#aew fanfiction #aew fanfic #aew fic #aew imagine #kenny omega fanfiction #kenny omega fanfic #kenny omega fic #kenny omega imagine #cash wheeler fanfiction #cash wheeler fanfic #cash wheeler fic #cash wheeler imagine #kenny omega #cash wheeler #adam page #adam page fanfiction #adam page fanfic #adam page fic #adam page imagine #hangman page #hangman page fanfiction #hangman page fanfic #hangman page fic #hangman page imagine #hangman adam page #hangman adam page fanfiction #hangman adam page fanfic #hangman adam page fic #hangman adam page imagine #matt jackson

[companionjones]

Alex Needs You

Fandom: Hamilton

Pairings: Platonic!Maria Reynolds x Reader, Platonic!Hamilsquad x Reader, Alexander Hamilton x Reader, Past!Alexander Hamilton x John Laurens, Maria Reynolds x Lafayette.

Summary: Your college roommate, Maria Reynolds, wakes you up in the middle of the night to tell you that a boy you’re very close to is having a mental breakdown due to a schoolwork overload.

Warnings: College, panic attack due to schoolwork, cursing

Author’s Notes: -This is a college AU. -Don’t ask me why Maria and Lafayette are together. I don’t know. -I changed Lafayette name around for this because I learned that his first name is not Marquis, it is his title. Lafayette’s full name in this is Gilbert Marie-Joseph Lafayette. -I technically wrote Reader as a female in this, but I think the only proof of that is that Y/n and Maria share a female dorm room, and I think Lafayette refers to Reader as ‘M’dame.’ -The real founding fathers were horrible people (except for John Laurens and John Adams) who profited off slavery. This is not a fanfiction about them.

Please take some time to sign some BLM petitions! Remember not to give any money to change.org because the money would go to the website, not the cause.

*******

    King’s College was the most prestigious university in the state. You were lucky enough to be awarded the scholarship money you needed to afford an education at the college on top of being accepted.

    Speaking of your luckiness, you made several friends on your first day that you had managed to keep. Your fist friend at the university was your dormmate, Maria Reynolds. She introduced you to her boyfriend, Gilbert Marie-Joseph Lafayette, and Lafayette got you to meet his friends: John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, and Alexander Hamilton. Laurens and Mulligan shared a dorm room, and Alex roomed with Lafayette. You’d been to both dorms plenty of times, but you practically lived in the latter.

    The reason was Alexander.

    He was good friends with everyone, but he barely hung out with anyone. The workaholic virtually never left his and Lafayette’s dorm room except to go to classes. Alex was completely dedicated to his education. On top of that, he was going for a duel-major in Law and Economics. You took pity on the bags under his eyes as soon as you saw them.

    You brought him food when he forgot to eat (which was almost everyday), you forced him to go to bed (which was definitely every night), and you even helped him through his break-up with his high school sweetheart: John Laurens. Needless to say, you and Alexander were the closest out of your new friends group.

    That was why Maria woke you up one night.

    “What is it?” you muttered groggily.

    She was clearly in distress when she told you, “Y/n, we gotta go to Laf’s and Alexander’s place right now.”

    “What?” you sat up a little in bed.

    Maria was putting on her shoes. “Laf just called me. John and Herc are already there. Alex is having some sort of a breakdown. He needs you.”

    Suddenly, you were out of bed. You got up so fast that your eyes did that thing where you went blind for a second. You asked thousands of questions about Alexander’s well-being, but Maria didn’t know much. All she could tell you was that Alex locked himself in his and Lafayette’s room. You and Maria set off to the boys’ dorm building at 2 in the morning.

    “C’est tout, I’m kicking the door in.” John and Hercules were backing out of the way of the Lafayette by the time you arrived on the scene.

    “Whoa! No, no. Stop that right now,” you ordered. “I’m not having you guys wreck school property, and something big like that will only stress out Alex more. Just...tell me what’s going on.”

    Lafayette explained, “I came back from being out with the boys, and I realized the door was locked. I called out to Alexander, but he said he’d be done in a moment and his work was almost done. He sounded like he was crying very hard. I tried to talk to him more, but he hasn’t said anything since. That was an hour ago.”

    “Okay,” you took a deep breath, and approached the door. “Alex? Hey, it’s Y/n. I, uh, I just need to know if you-if you hurt yourself.”

    Alex stuttered, “Yeah-Ye-Yes. Yes. I’m-I’m fine. I just need a little more time, okay? I-I just need to finish this essay for Washington.”

    Hercules was the first to voice his relief. “Oh, thank god. Y/n, I don’t know how you managed to do that. We haven’t been able to get Alex to talk since we got here.”

    “Maybe there’s too many people,” Maria deduced, “We’re probably overwhelming him. He always responds best to Y/n anyway. How about we just leave them alone for a bit?”

    The rest of the group agreed. When they started to leave, John stayed back for a moment.

    He began, “I just want to thank you, Y/n. I know Alex and I broke up before school started, but I still care about him a lot, you know? You being there for him means a lot to me.”

    “I know, John.” You affirmed, “I’ll take care of this.”

    John nodded, and went to follow the others.

    You walked back up to the door. “Alexander? The others are gone. Can I come in?”

    At first, there was silence on the other side of the door. Then, you heard his chair roll back from his desk. Footsteps approached the door. It opened to a tear-stained Alexander.

    Alex looked a mess. His dorm room wasn’t much different. There were crumpled papers everywhere It looked like he freaked out. That resulted in his blankets and pillows being whipped off his bed. His phone and laptop had been thrown to the floor and their screens had been shattered. Alex was currently working off of Lafayette’s laptop.

    He noticed that you were looking around the room as you entered. “I’m sorry. Half of my fucking essay got deleted, and...and I...lost it, I guess? I locked the door because I didn’t want Laf to see what I did...I was going to let him in once I got a chance to clean up a little, but I-I have to finish this essay.” It was like he just reminded himself, and Alex sat down to get back to work.

    “Alex.” You put your hands over his and intertwined his and your fingers. “Take a break,” you urged him.

    His eyes hadn’t left the screen of the laptop.

    “I’ll email Professor Washington, and ask for an extension for you. I’m sure you’ll get it.”

    Alex was still unresponsive. He’d moved his gaze to your connected hands. They were in his lap, and you were kneeling in front of him.

    “Alexander, please,” you begged for his attention.

    Finally, Alex met your eyes. He nodded.

    “Good.” You couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight of his eyes again. “Now, I’ll help you clean up in here. We can get you a new laptop, and the phone’s fixable. Then, maybe you can talk to the guys and Maria. Show them you’re alright, maybe?”

    He looked back down at your hands again. “I don’t want them to see me like this. It’s bad enough having you all come out in the middle of the night just to check on me.”

    “We came here because we care about you, Alexander. It scares us when you work yourself to the bone like this. Well, I know it scares me--”

    Alex’s eyes snapped up to yours. “I scare you?”

    “Well, you worry me, yeah,” you confirmed. “Why do you think I’m here everyday, checking in on you. It’s because I care--”

    No warning taking place beforehand, Alexander kissed you. The sudden impact made you realize the two of you had been building up to it for a long time. You stood up to better kiss him. Alexander followed you. You could’ve sworn you hadn’t been making out for that long, but when you broke the kiss, both you and Hamilton were breathless. He had his hands on your waist while yours were softly cupping his neck.

    “You’re in a really emotional place tonight, Alex,” you voiced the first reason that came to mind that Alexander possibly hadn’t meant what he had just done.

    Alexander immediately disagreed, “No. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

    Not knowing if Maria had actually woken you up that night in the first place or if you were instead dreaming then, you shakily nodded, “Okay. This Friday, at 8, let’s go out to dinner. But let’s not discuss this anymore tonight. You need sleep.”

    Fifteen minutes later, the dorm room was clean as it was going to get at 3am, and the shattered electronics were tucked under Alexander’s bed. Professor Washington was for some reason awake at that ungodly hour, and he had already responded to your email, agreeing to give Alexander a three-week extension.

    “Thank you, Y/n. Really.” Alex leaned on his doorframe while you were on your way out. He was holding your hand. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

    Softly smiling, you leaned in to give Alex another kiss. “You can call me, anytime, anywhere, and I’ll come right to you,” you whispered.

    “Oooo,” a harmony of teasing voices sounded from down the hallway. It was the rest of the gang.

    Laurens called, “I knew it! I knew you two were going to get together!”

    Hercules seemed serious when he informed, “I want to be the flower guy at y’all’s wedding. You hear me?”

    “Oh my god!” squealed Maria, “Now you, me, Alex, and Laf can go on double dates!”

    You helped everyone else away from Alexander and Lafayette’s door. “Okay, yes, me and Alex are...together now. But this is all stuff we can talk about tomorrow. Alex needs to sleep. We all need sleep. You hear that, Laf? That means no pestering Alex about him and me. Understand?”

    He gave a mock-salute. “Oui, M’dame.”

    “That goes for you, too.” You turned to Maria. “I’m going to bed as soon as we get back.”

    Maria raised her eyebrows at you. “Not a chance. I’m getting every detail out of you!” she proclaimed as she dragged you back to your dorm.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! If you would like to read more, I have more fics on Hamilton over on my page. You should go check it out. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

#hamilton #hamilton x reader #alexander hamilton #alexander hamilton x reader #maria reynolds #maria reynolds x lafayette #lafayette #jasmine cephas jones #daveed diggs #broadway #lin-manuel miranda #lin manuel miranda #alex needs you #companion jones #boy did i miss hamilton college aus

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 50

Connie accepted Bucky’s check in - the first night we were home.  

He was holding me, calming me down after I had woken up shaking, sweat dripping off of me, and tears almost drowning me - the nightmare was so horrific I could barely speak - when my phone began chiming with her texts.  Somehow it helped break me free from the terrors that I’d seen in the paralytic dreamworld - hearing a rapid fire pinging that I knew was coming from a place of love, even if it was a wee bit fucking overboard.  

I giggled, a tired half hoarse sound, but it was still a laugh.  “I’m being paged, Sergeant.”  The clouds of fear and concern that were casting shadows on Bucky’s face started to clear.  His fingers were still brushing the dampness from my face, but instead of biting his lip in worry, I could see a hint of a smile peeking out.  

“Do you want me -” Shaking my head, I tried to get vertical, but I needed help - since he was hovering.  A little maneuvering and we managed to get me sitting up against the headboard.  “I’ll go grab you a cool washcloth, and some water.”  

“You’re spoiling me,” I muttered, but he was already rushing off, after handing me my phone.  A glance told me that Connie was in overprotective mama bear mode and I had a flicker of fear that I would turn into her - SHIT.  Reading through her texts, as another chimed in, Bucky came back with my washcloth first - cool and fresh, he wiped my face and I shook my head.  “I could handle that,” raising my face up to his ministrations, he smiled down, but didn’t give it over.  

“I know you are fully capable,” once he cleared my face free of sweat and tear stains, he leaned close and kissed me.  Pulling back slightly, still close enough that I could count the flecks of grey in his blue eyes, he smiled down at me.  “I happen to LIKE taking care of you.”  

God, what did I do to get so fucking lucky?  “Wow, Bucky,” he had finally managed to do it, he’d scrambled my brain.  “I think you just -”  

“Diverted you from your mission,” he chuckled.  Dropping a quick kiss on my lips, he pulled away.  “Sorry, sweetheart, let me go get your water while you let Connie know I haven’t finally reverted to my old ways, killed you, and somehow wearing you as a skin suit for fun.”  I snorted and his grin grew.  

Text or call? Before I could choose, she made the choice for me, my phone rang with her ringtone - “Good morning, Mother,” I rolled my eyes, but my lips were at war with my minor irritation at her, I loved her silly worrywart ass.  

“Bucky said you’ve been sick and Sam -” I groaned and she stopped talking.  “Oh GOD, what freaky ass weird disease did you catch down there in the deep ass south?”  

“Nothing,” I grumbled, eyes meeting Bucky’s as he returned with not water, but juice.  YAY.  I must have looked excited because he shook his head and his grin was full blown as he offered it to me.  Taking a sip I sighed in contentment.  Like nectar from the gods.  “I didn’t catch anything, Connie, I just -”  Fuck.  I hadn’t gone to a doctor to get it confirmed and I’d insisted that Bucky NOT tell anyone, but then again Sam kind of knew -  I took another drink, stalling for time. 

“BROOKE!” Connie was so loud I had to lower the phone, and Bucky’s grin nearly split his face.  “What the he-”  muffled sounds gave me time to shoot my darling fiance a look, asking him for some direction.  

“Go ahead,” he leaned close and kissed my nose.  “She’s your Steve”

“I’m your what?!”  Connie was back and she was ready to go.  “Would you PLEASE tell me what is going on?”

Taking a deep breath, and handing Bucky my glass of juice so he could sit it down and take my hand, I linked our fingers and, “while I was in Delacroix, I DID get sick, but it might be a GOOD kind of sick -”

“What kind of sick is a good kind of -” her voice trailed off, like it was finally dawning on her.  “OH MY GOD!” I could hear Bryn asking what was so exciting and Connie hushing her and promising everything from a Poptart to more cartoons - when it was quieter on her end she came back and sounded as breathless as she would have if we’d gone through PE and maybe that hellscape of summer camp again.  “Have you taken a test?”

I put her on speakerphone, what’s the point of being secretive?  “A test?”  Buck and I shared a look and burst out laughing.  “Um, I’ve taken a FEW.”  Connie stayed quiet and I knew she was waiting for more.  “They’ve all been positive.”  I swear, I was going to end up paying a priest for his services to make sure she wasn’t possessed.  The shrieking and yelling, my GOD!  Bucky was smiling so wide that I couldn’t NOT smile too, and then his fingers started twisting the ring on my left hand - OH so we were going to tell EVERYTHING at once?  I raised an eyebrow and nodded at the phone.  His eyes went wide.  And a silent back and forth ensued.  If he wanted to let her know THIS news, then he could tell her on the PHONE.  

Clearing his throat, we listened as Connie was telling Bryn that she was excited because Brookie and Bucky had GOOD news, and I bit my lip.  I watched as Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky, the Winter Soldier - a former assassin who had toppled regimes and assassinated countless people - mentally prepared himself to tell MY best friend that we were engaged.  

“Connie,” I cut through her telling Bryn that we could all have lunch or a tea party very soon.  “Bucky wants to tell you something.”  I was TRYING not to laugh, but it was VERY hard.  

“What?” She sounded distracted, clearly still reeling from the news that I had a mini Bucky or Brooke swimming around inside me - maybe.  “Bucky?”  He’d gone silent, that silent that only he could go.  “He still there?”  

“I’m still here,” his fingers tighten on mine.  “I wanted to tell you, WE wanted to tell you,” I bit my lip.  “I - We’re,” and then I saw something I didn’t expect - “I’m taking Brooke to see Dr. Steven Strange today, she’s been having some trouble sleeping.  And she wants to get what we’re pretty sure about confirmed.”  My mouth dropped open.  He’d chickened out.  So much for taking a bullet.  

“That’s great, Bucky,” Connie sounded about as amazed by his announcement as anyone would be.  “I’m happy you’re taking care of her, she deserves that.”  

“Maybe after that -” he sighed.  “We can all get together and have dinner.”  His fingers were tracing my ring again.  “Celebrate things.”  Ah, in person, a better alternative.  I shook my head and leaned over to kiss his silly ass.  

“That sounds like a plan,” Connie told us goodbye, Bryn her echo, and then with a round of “love you’s” we signed off.  

Bucky was staring at me, and I grinned up at him.  “You choked,” I murmured, my free hand trailing up his chest.  “You were all for telling her ALL our news, and then -” I teased him and he leaned close, forehead meeting mine.  “I never thought I’d see you falter.”  

“She’d explode if I told her over the phone,” nudging my nose with his, I nodded.  “I want to tell EVERYONE, Brooke.  I’ll write it in the clouds myself,” his lips were getting closer to mine, the heat of his breath washing over my face.  “Your friends are your family, Connie most of all, she should be told in person.”  And that was the last thing he said, word wise, until we had to get ready for my appointment with Dr. Strange. 

#bucky barnes/oc #the falcon and the winter soldier #alternate universe #humor #slight smut #fluff #Family Fluff #FLUFF AND SMUT #possible pregnancy #dr. strange

[alit0my]

Prompt for JoexNickyxBooker.

For some reason the group thinks Booker died died in exile. Joe and Nicky are completely broken because of it. They blame themselves for not being there to protect him. But Booker's not dead. (obviously 🙃) He's just been taken and his death faked. Maybe they accidentally find him during a different job and feel even worse because they never looked for him. Lots and lots of comfort 💖

This is definitely not exactly what you asked for, but I hope it is close enough! Enjoy!

~

“Andy, I have some news,” Copley said over the phone. “It’s about Booker.” 

“What about him? I only asked for important updates, Copley,” Andy replied, eyeing the safehouse from a distance, noticing the silhouettes of the team peeking through the curtains. There was a pregnant pause before the man finally spoke again. 

“I would argue that this is a very important update. He’s dead.”

~

“I think we should check on him,” Nile said as she finished the final braid in her hair. “It’s been eight years, I think it would be beneficial for everyone.” 

“No,” Nicky replied, sipping on his tea as he flicked the page of the current novel he was reading. He glanced at Joe, who was already looking at him, and they shared a wry smile. 

“Oh come on, are you not curious as to what he’s been up to?” Nile persisted. 

“You say that like you haven’t been having secret conversations with him for the last few years.” Andy stared at her, which made the youngest immortal roll her eyes. 

“It fell off around two years ago, I haven’t had a wink of communication with him since then,” Nile sighed. “But it’s fine, I guess.” 

Andy watched her for a moment more before her phone beeped with an update on their target’s location. “Hustle up, we got him.” 

~

“What do you mean, he’s dead?” 

“I mean, he’s dead, Andy. I got a video of his body sent to me anonymously,” Copley said dejectedly. “I’ve already had it verified. It’s real.” 

“Verified by who? Find out who killed him. Better yet, find out where his body is. The least we can do is give him a proper burial.”

~

By pure chance, they found him.

~

Booker awoke with a pounding in his head and a growl in his stomach, chains rattled around him as he moved his limbs. He felt the dampness of his environment seep through his clothes before he opened his eyes and he sighed. 

‘Ah fuck,’ he thought as he tried to piece together how he got here. ‘Here we go again.’ 

Hearing footsteps approaching he remained as still as possible, wanting to catch his captors by surprise. The heaviness of the footsteps informed him that it was guards approaching, no doubt for another round of experiments and torture. In a twisted way, he knew this was simply karma catching up to him. 

Booker wanted nothing more than for his team to show up and whisk him away back home to safety, but he knew they weren’t coming. 

The video of his death was of high quality. 

High enough to fool the most tech-savvy person Booker knew in Copley. 

So it would have definitely fooled Andy.

~

“Sit down, I have news,” Andy walked inside the safehouse and stood in front of the fireplace, arms crossed and face set in stone. The other three scrambled to their preferred seats on the sofa, their furrowed brows awaiting the news. Andy sucked in a breath before opening her mouth, forcing her lips not to quiver. “Booker’s dead.”

The air stilled and grew cold, and not just because it was winter. All the life was sucked out of the room as the three immortals on the sofa processed the news, glancing between each other to see if this was a gag anyone was in on. 

Nothing gave. 

“Andy, don’t play us.” Nile was the first to speak, the two men beside her silent as statues. “There’s no way.” 

“There’s a video. Copley verified it. He’s gone,” Andy whispered and turned to the side, hiding her tears. She had always expected to be the first one to die, never having to suffer in this long life without Booker by her side after spending the previous two hundred years together. But now he was gone, and she had to deal with the rest of her life without him by her side. 

Joe and Nicky stood up from the couch and excused themselves, leaving the room with haste. Andy paid them no mind. She knew they were wracked with guilt as she shared the news, especially after pushing the exile to a hundred years and hell, she was too. For this to happen to their most reckless member whilst being away from them made them all feel like utter shit. 

Andy was going to find Booker’s body and lay it to rest. Preferably in Marseille, next to his long gone wife and children. 

It was the least she could do for her fallen friend.

~ 

“I told you there was a better way into the compound, Andy!” Joe whispered as he led the team through the dark, moist underground tunnels. “Much more effective than blowing up the front door. You know, considering you don’t know anything about explosives.”

He heard Andy scoff from behind him, amongst the soft thuds of their boots on the concreted ground. “Right. Because the one person who does know something about explosives is fucking dead.” 

Silence. 

Joe bit his lip and trudged onward. He could not afford to get caught up thinking about Booker when there was a mission to be done. Though, it was his fault for bringing up the man’s area of expertise. 

“Light up ahead,” Nicky’s voice pierced his thoughts as they came to a halt. Being this deep underground, Joe could only think they had entered the dungeons, or whatever they called the place they keep prisoners. Dungeon sounded like the right word to describe this archaic setting. 

“There’s a body over there,” Joe whispered, his perfect vision noticing the lump of a human form in the darkness, using what light was provided to confirm his suspicions. “I’m going to see if they’re alive.” 

~

“Do you believe her?” 

“Nico, Andy said-”

“I know what Andy said. Do you believe her?” 

Joe sighed and paced the length of their bedroom, running a hand through his curls. There was no reason not to trust Andy, but they did still have their doubts over Copley’s trustworthiness. 

“I do. Why wouldn’t I?” Joe stopped pacing and turned to his love. “He shouldn’t have been all alone.”

Nicky looked back at him and frowned. “One hundred years was too much?” 

“Booker is dead, Nicky! Dead-dead! Never coming back, perma-dead! Of course it was too much!” Joe shouted before reeling himself back in. It was their decision to push for the exile, so he had no reason to be this upset. But old memories of their time with Booker haunt them, starting as bedsharing in the middle of a Russian winter and ending as him being a loving part of the relationship. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.” 

“It’s alright,” Nicky said, waving off the little outburst before letting his hand fall to his lap. “I think- I need some time to process.. that he’s actually gone.” 

Joe walked over to Nicky and wrapped him up in a hug, pulling the man close and hooking his chin over his lover’s shoulder. 

It didn’t take long for both men to break down with tears.

~

As he got closer Joe became suspicious of the body before him; he knew the way it was leaning against the wall, the way the hair fell in front of the face, the way he knew this body like the back of his hand.

Booker. 

Booker was in front of him. 

With trembling hands, Joe grabbed Booker’s face and tilted it up, the other man groaning and opening his eyes slowly, blinking away the blurriness. 

“Joe?” Booker mumbled, his voice gravelly from the lack of use, and Joe crumbled. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around the man and pulled him close, squeezing him tight to his chest. He heard the others approach them, but all he cared about was Booker’s warm body against his and the soft sobs coming from the broken man. 

“Hey, Book. Yeah, it’s us. Everyone’s here,” Joe whispered, eyes gazing towards the chains attached to the rock walls. “I- We thought you were dead. For real.” 

Booker pulled away from the embrace and looked past Joe, eyes falling on Nicky, then Nile, then Andy, their eyes welling up with tears of their own but their faces remained focused. They were on a mission after all. “Yeah, I know. They showed me the video.” 

“We’re going to get you out of here, okay? We need to grab some intel, and hopefully find the keys to your chains, and then we’ll take you home.” Joe grabbed Booker’s face lightly and tilted it to face him, smiling softly as some life returned to the man’s eyes. “We’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Booker wouldn’t dream of it. 

~ 

“Okay so Copley says this should be an easy intel grab, in and out in less than an hour. We go in at three am and come out just before four. Shouldn’t be too many guards, and if there are then we’ll just take them out. Our entry points are the front door which would need explosives as its reinforced steel, or the back door which has some guard dogs that could alert everyone on site of our presence before we even step a foot onto the grounds,” Andy spoke, leaning over a map of the compound their next mission led them to. The four of them nodded their heads, taking in the information given.

“So no back entrance due to the dogs, but blowing up the front door wouldn’t cause a disturbance?” Nicky asked, leaning down to get a closer look at the map. “I’m sure there has to be another way inside.” 

“By all means, Nicky, have a look. Those are the two main ways inside, but you might find a sewer or something we can crawl through, though I really don’t wanna do that,” Andy stated, crossing her arms. “Copley also said there might be prisoners. We should check before we leave.” 

“If there are prisoners, maybe there’s a secret entrance to get them in and out?” Joe asked. “We’ll need to scout it before we act, how much time do we have to complete this?” 

“We should be in and out within an hour,” Andy said. “Prisoners or not, we gather the intel first, got it?” 

“Yes, boss.”

~

It felt like an eternity, but the group made their way back to Booker, albeit under gunfire. The man flinched as Andy and Nicky hoisted him to his feet and quickly released the shackles from his wrists and ankles before pulling him towards the exit, Nile and Joe quick to follow as they covered the trio from behind. 

The road home was hard. 

So very hard. 

For the captee and his rescuers. 

They managed to get back to their safehouse without any further harm, and Booker felt himself being pulled inside and to the bathroom. He doesn’t remember how, but he found himself in the tub surrounded by bubbles and pressed against a hard, warm body. Hands were gently rubbing his arms and torso as he stared into the abyss, thinking of everything yet nothing. 

He did not remember the past two years. He did not know that he spent that long in captivity. He did not know that that was how long his family didn’t look for him. 

He did not know how that made him feel. 

“Booker?” The body behind him whispered, careful not to spook the man. Booker bristled slightly but did not respond. “Booker, are you with us?” 

“Leave him be, Nic. Let’s get him clean and warm,” Joe said softly from outside the tub, a hand on Booker’s shoulder. “We can deal with everything later.” 

Booker soon found himself in a bed wrapped like a cocoon in blankets, the bed dipping on either side of him. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who the two bodies that joined him were, he knew. 

He knew they would have to talk. About his betrayal. About his capture. About them not looking for him. About them. 

But that can all wait. 

Right now he’s warm, he’s secure, and he’s surrounded by the two people that matter the most to him. All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep away all the exhaustion, all the torture, all the mental anguish of the last two years. 

And shit, he was tired.

~

AO3 Link

#the old guard #booker #ot3 kinda #first fic in a while plz be kind

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

summertime sadness .4.

tgif

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (masterlist under construction)

Warnings: dub con sex (oral)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and dark(professor!)Bucky explicit. 18+ only. I know they aren’t super dark, but like questionable so I’m keeping those tags just to be safe.

Summary: You settle into your new job but can’t get too comfortable.

Note: Okey, dokey. Here’s the fun part (for me at least). Still tryna figure out how exactly this one will pan out by part 6 but we’re all having a ride together, eh. Thanks everyone for their support and I love you all! 💋

<3 Let me know what you think in a reblog, reply, or like. I’m loving the feedback from y'all and the enthusiasm! Also as always, memes accepted.

💋💋💋

It had only been a few weeks since your last visit to the university but it felt longer as you walked onto campus. Just as planned, you were due to meet Bucky in his office. He texted you as you rode the subway. He was eager to start his ‘marking’. You smirked and wondered how long he’d last at that.

You entered the English Building, the elevator back in service and empty. Not many instructors were in their offices on a Saturday and most students were hungover or readying for another party. You knocked on Bucky’s door before you entered. He had a stack of essays on his desk as he sat behind them listlessly.

“Finally,” He said.

“I slept in.” You replied. “For the first time in a week.”

“Then you’ll have lots of energy,” He reached below his desk, the sound of his zipper discernible beneath it. “I’ve got about forty papers here.”

“Forty? And how many do you think you’ll get to?”

“Knowing that mouth, maybe one.” He snickered. “Come on, baby, I’m rock hard over here.”

He rolled his chair back as you neared and set your purse down behind his desk. He slapped your ass and you got to your knees. You grinned up at him as you ducked under his desk and gripped his thighs as he pushed closer. You pulled down his briefs and his cock sprung out. He groaned and grabbed his pen.

“Fuck,” He swore under his breath. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this, baby.”

“You’ve got marking to do,” You reprimanded and stroked him. “Now get to work.”

You stretched your lips over his tip and he groaned. He slid closer and you could hear the clumsy scratching of his pen on paper. As he reached the back of your throat, his leg twitched. You pushed past your gag reflex and he nearly choked. You pulled back and felt the shiver in him.

“Mmm,” He hummed and flipped a page. “Just like that.”

The sloppy sounds of your mouth added to the flutter above, the scribbles of ink. You bobbed your head steadily, every now and then forcing him to your limit and holding him there. And then you stopped as a knock came at the door. You both froze.

“Shit,” He pushed himself against the desk entirely and trapped you underneath it. The front shielded you from view on the other side. “Keep going.”

“Buck---”

“Slowly, quietly.” He grabbed his dick and slapped it against your lips. “Now.” He cleared his throat and shoved your head down as he glided into your mouth again. “Come in.” He called and the door opened.

Your eyes widened as he pulled his hand away. You carefully dragged your tongue along his length.

“Hey,” He greeted in a smooth tone. “Tanya.”

“Sorry to disturb,” His visitor replied. “I was just grabbing some stuff from my office and I just remembered I still had this.”

A thump sounded on the top of the desk as you slobbered down his cock.

“Thanks,” He said and squeezed his legs around you. “I almost forgot myself if I’m being honest.”

“I owe you one,” She said. You recognized her voice. She taught the other section of journalism, though you had her for a social movements class in your first year. “Maybe a drink. I could hang around til you finish with those.”

“Ah, you know, I wish I could,” He lamented. “But I promised a buddy I’d swing around to watch the game.”

You kept from gagging and held your breath, afraid to give yourself away.

“You don’t seem like the sports type,” She countered.

“Not really but a few beers and I am,” He dismissed her easily.

“You sure you’re not avoiding me?” Her toe tapped impatiently just on the other side of the desk.

“Avoiding you?” He chuckled. A slight quaver in his voice as you swirled your tongue around his tip. “Why would I be doing that?”

“Well… Ever since our little… you know…” She hesitated to say it aloud.

“I thought we agreed that it was just a little fun.” He said and you stopped suddenly. He nudged you with his toe and you wrapped your lips around him once more. “A drunken bit of fun.”

“Hmmm…” She sounded disappointed. “You free tomorrow?”

“Sorry, maybe next weekend,” He said. “But I really gotta finish here.”

“Okay, okay,” She accepted with a trill. “We’ll sort out a time then.”

“Sure,” He confirmed unconvincingly. “Next weekend. See ya.”

“Bye,” Her voice was cheerier as her heels clicked back across the floor and the door opened and closed once more.

You tried to pull away but he caught your head and held you down as he emptied himself down your throat. You choked and smacked at his thigh as he cupped his sac with his other hand. He left your mouth salty and sore as he slipped out and rolled back with a sigh.

You spit his cum into your hand and crawled out from under the desk. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry, I had to-- fuck, I almost came with her right there.” He grabbed a tissue and handed it to you.

“You could’ve warned me,” You wiped your hand off with a grimace. “What was that anyway? Did you fuck her?”

“Why? You jealous?” He cleaned himself up and zipped up his pants.

“No,” You rolled your eyes. “But I did just suck you off within two feet of her as she obviously wanted to do the same.”

He laughed and pushed his shoulders back. “It was months ago. Before… us. There was a conference, there was wine, and I regret it.” He sighed. “And she looks back on it fondly but… lots of teeth and she was stiff as a fucking board.”

“Wow,” You said dryly and wiped your mouth. “You know, I’m barely surprised.”

“This… thing between you and I, it’s not--”

“It’s just a bit of fun. Trust me, I get it. I haven’t got time for anything but.” You tossed the kleenex in the small bin beside his desk. “Right? That’s what it is?”

“So much fun,” He assured you. “You wanna hang around till I’m finished?”

“Thought you already were,” You jibed. His brow furrowed and you grinned. “Sure,” You pulled up a chair. “I got nothing better to do.”

“Well, don’t sound so excited,” He said. “Besides, I might need some more help sooner than later.”

💋

You scribbled along the margin of your agenda and dropped the pen. The keys clacked beneath your fingers as you typed up a manic sentence. Your screen glowed back at you as the seconds ticked by with each letter. So enthralled by your task that the speck in your peripheral gave you a start.

You leaned back and turned your chair to face the man watching you. Loki’s lithe fingers swept up your golden pen and he admired the engraved letters beneath the fluorescent light. You watched him nervously as you pushed yourself away from your keyboard.

“Mr. Laufeyson.” You greeted him meekly. “I am just finishing the blurb you wanted.”

“Hard at work, as always,” He mused as he carefully set the pen back on your desk. “A beautiful pen…”

“A gift,” You smiled awkwardly.

“Well, I hate to interrupt you so I will let you finished,” His fingers brushed along your desk and he leaned on it as he casually cross his right leg in front of the other. “But when you have, I would like a moment in my office before you leave for the day.”

“Of course,” You affirmed. “It shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.”

“As you will,” He stood straight and smoothed his jacket and buttoned it. “Then you are free to enjoy your weekend.”

“Okay,” You nodded and he turned away. 

You watched him go, his strides long but lingering as he retreated to his office. The usual crowd had thinned out and Stacey was readying for her own departure. You spun back to your computer and resumed your work. Your second week down and not a stumble yet. You dared to be proud of yourself. Even, to be happy.

Another weekend ahead of you and you weren’t entirely excited. You liked being in the office; liked working with the other journalists, writers, and editors. Enjoyed your chance to shadow one of the most powerful men in New York publishing. And he had achieved it all at such a young age. You could only hope to achieve as much in the next fifteen years. 

It was more than a bullet point for your resume, it was your own paradise.

So you finished up your blurb and attached it to an email. You logged out and packed up your agenda and pen beside your laptop. You pushed your chair in as you hooked your bag over your shoulder and trod tentatively to Loki’s office. You knocked on the open door and he looked away from his screen.

“Ah, there you are,” He beckoned you in with a wave. “Close the door behind you, please.”

You glanced back into the main office and did as he said. You stepped inside and sat across from him, your bag set down against the leg of the chair. His green eyes focused on you and he tilted his head as he absently traced his fingers over his phone. You fidgeted as you struggled not to shy away.

“I just wanted to check in,” He said. “And I was recently reviewing your references.”

“My references?” You wondered.

“Mmm,” He hummed. “Your professors speak highly of you. One of the reasons I even considered a second year, let alone one who had so suddenly changed majors, was a certain word on your behalf.”

“Okay?” You were confused and gripped the arms of the chair as you blinked at him dumbly.

“James Barnes has earned his tenure at the university and on occasion, he has written pieces for my own magazine. A respectable writer, admirable in his work both in teaching and otherwise. And when he proposed this workshop, the tours, I thought it was a charming idea. He proved me right so I had no doubt when he spoke to me of you.”

You gulped but said nothing. Your stomach churned and you brought your hands together and wrung them.

“You see,” He lifted his phone and blindly unlocked it. “You have lived up to his reference and your work is commendable…” He smirked as he flicked a finger across the screen. “But I still questions the veracity of his endorsement as I find his integrity has come into doubt.”

He set his phone down and slid it across the desk. He nodded for you to pick it up. You slid forward on your chair and took it. Your lips parted in horror as you stared at the screen. It was you and Bucky in the bookshop, your lips locked and his arms wrapped around you. You looked up, mortified, as the phone shook in your grasp.

“I…” The breath went out of you and you put the phone back on the desk before it could fall. “How did you--”

“It’s a quaint little shop.” He purred. “I venture in every now and then.”

You chewed your lip as your cheeks burned.

“You do realize that this could be… damaging. To you more than him.” He stood slowly and came around the desk to stand before you. “He has tenure, he is established. You, my dear, you’re barely getting started.”

You gaped up at him. The pet name unsettled you and you wiped your sweaty hands on your thighs.

“And aside from the ethical dilemma, I do wonder what a girl your age sees in a man his age. Especially when your work speak so boldly on its own.”

You shook your head, speechless.

“Surely there are boys your own age who would be delighted to offer you… companionship.”

“I never… I would never use him like that.” You insisted. “It’s all… my work. My own work.”

“Oh, I know it, dear,” He said as his lips curled. “But to risk that work on him? On an affair better fit to a dime store erotica?”

“Are you-- Are you going to report him? Me?” You asked. “Am I fired?”

“Well,” He leaned on the desk, his long fingers gripped it’s edge as he leered down at you. “That depends on you, my dear.”

“Me?” You squeaked.

“Oh yes, this is a very powerful secret, don’t you think?” He slithered. “And in our business, well, it would sell.”

“What do you want?” You asked.

He pushed himself away from the desk and reached to tickle your cheek. His fingers crawled along your chin and he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I haven’t yet made up my mind,” He bent so that his face was only inches from yours. “But when I do, my dear, you will appease me, won’t you?”

You shuddered but didn’t pull away. You were too frightened. A lock of his dark hair fell forward as his pale skin shone sinister in the lamp light. His green eyes bore into yours and you wanted desperately too look away.

“Y-yes,” You stammered weakly. “I--I will.”

“Very good,” He drew away slowly. “Now, darling, go enjoy your weekend.” He scooped up his phone and tucked it in his pocket. “And give the professor my regards.”

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #loki #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!fic #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark fic #fic #series #sequel #au #summertime sadness #kiss me in the d-a-r-k #marvel #mcu #captain america

[lillaxtrigger]

Young Hope: Chapter 40

The afternoon sun beats down upon the planes of suburbia just outside of Townsville; some of its warming light beaming straight through the window of a residence and cast upon the bottom half of a blue haired woman, who stands atop a step stool as she reaches up to her kitchen ceiling fan. Carefully does she continue to unscrew the fan’s frame keeping it atop the kitchen, each screw she twists out dropping down into the palm of her hand; one of them winds up slipping out from her grasp and falling to the tile floor. As she peers down to the screw that had just dropped, the woman is left astonished when finding a lone limb of pure black slither through the air underneath; the shock alone upsetting her balance and causing her to fall right off the stool and onto the floor. Amidst shaking off the short fall does the blue haired woman then watch’s the slithering limb split apart into two; one part reaching over to the fridge while the other heads up to the cabinet beside. From within the fridge does one strand pull out the jug of whole milk while the other takes out a tall glass out from the cabinet; pouring the milk right up near the rim of the glass before neatly putting the galleon right back inside before slithering back through the kitchen with glass in hand.

With a short breath escaping from her lips does the woman’s daughter race right on into the kitchen; giving the woman a hand as she asks:

“Mom! You alright?”

“Yeah Mally. Just got a little spooked by Roy’s new arm is all.” the mother explains as she’s pulled back onto her feet. “Oh yeah. It’s taking me a little bit longer to get used to too.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m so glad for Roy getting a brand new arm to replace the old one he lost several months back, but the way you described how it just came bursting out from his arm socket still has me concerned. Have you at least talked to him about it yet?” “I’ve been giving him some time to enjoy having both arms again before spoiling the fun. It’s been only a week now since we got back home.”

“Well when do you think it might be time to let the party train grind to a halt to check the cargo its got in the back?” “I think I might just start.” the orange girl answers before strolling off towards the hall.

Waltzing right through their hallway does Mally head towards the slightly cracked open door set along the very end of the hall; the roller bladder slowly pushing the door open and letting the hallway light seep into the darkened room. “Roy...You in here?” she says out tot he dark, baiting nothing but silence. Among peering through the dark recesses do a pair of violet glowing eyes emerge from the void; the silhouette they belong to lumbering closer as they stare upon the young lady. Finally pushing the bedroom wide open does the hallway light flood through the room and reveal the purple angel himself standing before the girl; Roy looking to her with a calming smile and uttering:

“Hey there.”

As the merc starts to drink the glass of milk held in his arm of pure black, the orange lass slowly steps into his bedroom as she asks:

“Hey Roy...So uh, h-how have ya been feeling this past week with your new arm?”

“Holy shit. It’s been so fucking great. I didn’t think I’d miss having both arms this badly. Plus with all that my new arm is capable off, I’m finding new ways to put it to use that his old limb could only gestural feint over; some uses far more pleasurable than before.”

“Yeah, I get it. You can have sex with people using your arm. What I’m really asking here is if you’ve felt even the slightest bit off since it came bursting out yer side? Any odd or upsetting thoughts going through your head...like more depraving than usual?” Mally retells. “Eh...outside of wondering if a dead body could be stuffed inconspicuously inside a recliner for about a week without no one noticing, haven’t really had much like that on the mind.” “Any physical pain or altercations?”

“Hmm...Nope.”

“Really?...Take your hoodie off then.”

“Whoa, whoa, Mal. I know were not blood related. But I still see you as a little sister so that’d be pretty damn wro-”

“Just take it off!”

“Alright, fine. Jesus.” the merc complies with, starting to slip off his treasure purple hood.

Upon finally beholding her brother’s bare chest do the skater’s eyes widen as her pupils shrink, nearly falling over as she screams out through the house:

“Holy shit!”

“Mally! What did I say about cussing in the hou- Oh my god!” the mom comes over to scold, though left just as taken aback when beholding the same sight as her daughter. Both of them are left horrified when discovering numerous black veins that run right across the purple merc’s bare chest like an encroaching infection and covering his upper body; Roy left wondering to both of them:

“The hell are you girl’s screaming about?” “You can’t be serious.” Mally utters.

“Honey, have you checked yourself in the mirror lately?” the mom questions with quiet worry. “Oh, you mean all these going through my bod. Pretty damn cool, right?”

“No!” the blue haired mother blurts out.

“I-is-is that-I Iiis all that even hurting you, making you bleed out or something!” Mally asks. “Chill, alright. I’ve never felt better. All this is just fine.”

“It’s pulsating veins are literally rooting through your body!” the mom adds.

“Oh my god. I seriously can’t believe you two. I finally gotten a break after all the messed up bull I gone through and your practically demonizing the prize I won at the end. Can’t you people be happy that I got an arm again, one that’s better than the old one?” Roy complains. “Roy, were not worried about you having a new arm. We’re worried about what it’s doing to you.” the mom specifies. “How do you two know it ain’t doing anything bad, maybe all this black veins going through my bod is improving me like nanomachines making him stronger; like that one guy in Metal Gear Rising. What was his name again? How the hell am I forgetting his name?” “We need to see a doctor about this.” the mom claims. “Mom, what would a doctor even start to make of this? I doubt they could give a feasible diagnosis over something this outlandishly dark appendage that came spurting out.” her daughter mentions. “What else can we do about it?” the blue haired woman questions back. ‘Uh...Alex said that this thing was made up of the same stuff he was. But that really doesn’t say much. Roy, you got his number right? Think giving him a call might be best on the table.” the skater comes to. “Already tried. Every call just goes to voice mail. Can’t sense him anywhere in Town either. Fact, he’s been off the grid since we got back. Hope the little gremlin hasn’t gotten into anything serious.”

“Right, fine. With that option out, we’ll just have to stop by a couple friends to see if they can help. But who to see first?” the skater wonders aloud. The merc suddenly snaps his fingers as he flashes a smile, stating how:

“Senator Armstrong! That’s what his name was.”

The very first stop that both Roy and Mally take under this investigation is with the potion witch herself, Serena; who they meet in the Townsville Library. More specifically within the recently uncovered underbelly of the library filled with enchanting books and mystical tomes. Sliding her finely polished nail across the wall of ancient hardback, the witch pulls out a lone book straight from the shelves; all the while telling the two behind her how:

“I seriously can’t thank you two enough for discovering this incredible collection hidden away underneath the library. All the new potion recipes that I’ve gotten from their pages have been one hot seller after another since you two dug it up.” “Ain’t no big deal. Really we just stumbled onto this by complete accident. I just hope the clean up crew removed all the trap set up in here.” the orange skater responds. Right on that mark do they all then here the sound of a magical explosion go off along the side; all of them peeking right over to find  one of the library goers having his lower torso replaced with that of a spider, all while scream out in an utter panic. “Ah! Ah! Oh god! Why!?” the poor bastard shouts as a batch of silk spews out from his fresh new abdomen.

“So...What’s this little book stop gotta do with what came bursting out my side?” Roy get back on track with. “During one of my little glazes through this uncovered library, I stumbled across a tome of Mythological Chinese stories. One of them kinda reminds me of your arm in a strange way.”

“Where’s that.” Mally questions. “Think I last saw that Tome along the very back of the right side of the library. It might be the one sitting in the middle of the shelf.” “Kay, gimme a sec here.” the purple merc tells them, casting forth his arm of pitch black out beyond the railing and right across the outlook; stretching straight out to the other side. Slithering through sections does the arm slide past several other library goers, each one of them left astonished as the limb moves past. Skimming along the spines of every single book on the shelf does the merc finally pull out one in particular labeled as “The mythical fables of the ancient east” and withdraws the tome back to his side. “This it?” “Yep. The very same one.” the potion witch confirms. “You know what that story you mentioned says?” Mally asks. “Mm. I’ve olny read about a paragraph or two while on my recipe hunt.”

“That case. Guess we better just crack this thing open and feast on the festering brain food dwelling inside.” the merc goes. “Roy, dial it down for god sake.” his sister tells him as they both head over towards a desk.

Slapping the old book right onto the ancient stone library desk do the two of them get started in the table of context as Serena tells them that:

“Alright you two. I’ll be looking through more of the shelves if you need me.” “Careful of tripwires along the floor.” Mally warns her with as they part. Cracking the tome right open, the two of them immediately begin their search through the table of contents; reading out the titles of numerous legends such as: “The Oni and the flowerpot” “The natural Maiden of white snow” “The myth of the True eye Hawk bow” “The meeting of the Nord and the Imperial Lord”. “Ah...Oh, here might be something, “The tale of the Samurai and the black demon.” the orange young lady grabs her brother’s attention with.

“Long ago in an ancient land, a great and powerful mass of black had descended from the heavens and arose as a powerful shape shifting master of darkness; determined to dominate the land of China and all who dwell within with unspeakable evil power unmatched. Before the mystical land could be swallowed by such unrelenting darkness, the land’s lord sent away his only son and the one katana of evil’s bane out from their homeland so that his heir would escape to one day defeat this powerful and liberate his homeland. Through out every corner of the globe has this young heir hone his skills with many masters as his guide; his abilities and way of the blade growing alongside his age throughout the many years.

After a long 15 years of grueling training, the boy, now a fully fledged samurai, was ready to return home; determined to free his people from the monstrous evil that had scarred the land of the east. Among his return upon a horse of white; the powerful demon stared down upon the Samurai as he had stepped forth to appose him; the monster burning eyes staring down upon the Samurai as he unsheathed the blade of evil’s bane. The battle for not just the Samurai’s homeland, but for the world over had finally begun its finale.

Long and harrowing was their fight, the demon assuming many forms in opposition to the Samurai; who with fleet foot, tore through the monster’s very form that no other mortal could. No matter what form the demon had taken, no matter what trickery or power it had fought back with, the monster of darkness could not stand against the holy weapon of the Samurai; the katana slicing off piece after piece of the demon’s body. In the final moments of the grueling battle did the demon lay helpless before the Samurai; it body scattering to dust when the last blow had been struck. Finally, after decades of suffering had the demon been defeated and the land of the east free from its harrowing evil; the Samurai, reclaiming his kingdom and bringing forth a long awaited age of prosperity and peace.

Yet despite this victory over the demon of evil, its remains are left scattered throughout the world; ever seeking, ever yearning to be whole once more with its very kin. Yet for what reason does it continue to live? To regain control over the world it once sought to rule, or to return from the very stars it once came to be. Only time shall bestow upon us all such an answer.”

Upon finishing this tale of triumph and warning, Mally is left taken aback by all that they have read; sitting back along the side of a stone shelf as she goes:

“My god. Can’t believe that demon just came down and took over China in just a day. If Serena thinks that monster might be related, what’s that even say about what’s attached to your side?...What’s it even say about Alex?” “Come on Mal. You’re taking this way too seriously. You really think this charcoal Spaghetti strand attached to my side is gonna turn me into an unsympathetic horrible tyrant?”

In thinking over this does Mally try to take a few moments to think over her brother’s answer; Roy’s expression souring with each passing second. “For fuck sa-. Fine, if you still on the fence, then how bout we stop over at Hank’s and have him call up Melvin. That boy got a sweet set of demon hands like my arm and the worst he’s ever been was a compact ball of insecurity and anger issues wrapped up on a 14 year old twinkus. And that was even before he got them.”

“Checking up on him might not be a bad idea. Last time we hung out wasn’t exactly a pleasant spelunking trip.” the orange skater agrees.

Along the suburban skies above does a young boy strapped into a decked out wheelchair glide through the clear blue skies; the chair bound boy yipping and cheering with the sort of glee a 10 year old on Christmas would make after seeing all the presents in the living room. Right below this airborne lad does both Mally and Roy finish up speaking to the chairbound pilots cousin; Melvin leaning along the side of Hank’s abode as the orange skater finishes explaining how:

“That’s pretty much how Roy’s new arm came out. Came straight out of his side like an actual chestburster.”

“Shit man. Way I wound up getting my hands ain’t nowhere as gory as that. Worse I got was some broken bones and bruises.” the young man claims. “Think you could go into detail about how ya got them?” the merc request. “Nah, fuck that. I ain’t tellin.”

“Can you at least tell us if you’ve felt anything strange or off since ya gottem. Any physical pains or strange thoughts going through your head.” Mally then asks. “Outside a couple of mildly weird dream. Got nothin going on.” Melvin ultimately concludes. “Huh...good to here at least.”

Its then that their attention is drawn up to the young man gliding in the skies above them, pulling off rolls and loop de loops as his cheering echoes across the neighborhood. “The hell he’s so giddy for.” Roy wonders. “Couple a guys came over the other day and asked him to join in some little club and he’s been flying high since.” Melvin answers. “Who came over?”

“The Vanguard League!” all of them hear he chairbound genius cry out, the three peering over to watch as Hank comes in for a landing; his wheels kicking up a cloud of dirt as he skids to a stop before them all.

“They came over!? That’s incredible, Hank! What position did you land a spot in?” Mally ecstatically questions. “Ya’ll looking at the new head of the Technological Department. Making new gadgets and inventions to help fight crime, save lives, and help people worldwide; all alongside the greatest of young minds this generation has to offer. I can’t wait to get started after the announcement this coming weekend.” “Had a feeling they’d come around to check you out sooner or later. I don’t think they picked a better boy for the job.” Mally congratulates Hank with, the chair bound genius letting out a bright smile. “What about you Melvin, you think about standing alongside your cuz and the other heroes?” the boy then questions. “You shitting me, right? You think you’d catch me being bossed around like that? Hell no.”

“What about you Mal?” “Uh. Leaning on it, but I ain’t too sure which department to join.”

“Hey, no pressure; just good luck with whatever ya choose. Meantime, I better spruce up and polish up my equipment before the weekend announcement comes around. Catch you later.” the chairbound genius bids farewell with as he presses a couple of buttons on his chair; an exhaust along the back firing out and rocketing him right on inside. From listening to several things crash and break from inside, Melvin decides to race right on after while exclaiming:

“Dammit, the hell did we talk about doing that indoors!?”

“Whelp, guess we don’t got anything to worry about. See ya.” Roy claims while in the midst of taking off out into the air. Before the violet angel could ascend too far up into the cloudless skies, the shell of a yo yo wraps itself right around the merc’s very leg; Roy peering down from the string to see Mally ready to bring him right back down. With but a single tug does the skater manage to send the purple merc straight down towards the earth; the angel crashing right down into the grassy backyard in a plume of dirt. “Yeah, were nowhere near done yet. We ain’t closing this case til we figure out what this arm of yours is made of and where it came from.” the orange lass claims. “Agh! That book we read up on said that whatever it was came from space; serious fucking doubt you know anyone else that came from beyond the star.” Roy explains while climbing out from the dirt, soon finding his sister wearing a knowing smile.

Traveling deep within the very heart of the woodlands just outside the city, the two of them step right on inside of a downed space ship; whereupon the violet angel beholds the alien trio that his sister had befriended.

“Hot damn, Mally. Can’t believe you were keepin this little part of the woods all to yourselves and didn’t bother saying a thing to us.” Roy smoothly exclaims. “Figured you might’ve sensed them all out anyway. Surprised you didn’t know until now.” Mally acknowledges. “You kidding. With all the weird shit that goes on in this town already? How you figure I was gonna stumble on this?” “Also thought they might enjoy the privacy and not have every government agent or crackpot conspiracy nutter come knocking at their door and demand to know what sort of part of congress they control or whatever excuse they pull outta their ass.”

“Still, not hard to imagine why you and your teach would want to keep these choice pieces of intergalactic intimates all to themselves; you serious stumbled onto one hell of a galactic goldmine with this set of sweet sweet alien asses. Definitely like to double down on the fish guy and the girl with the eyeliner in an intergalactic seafood platter; maybe finish off with the hooded piece of alien booty as dessert right there. This spread here’s the fucking motherload, and papa Roy here don’t want a piece, he want’s the whole fucking buffet.” the purple angel elaborates aloud, the three growing further upset and creeped out as she continues speaking.

Amidst the merc’s overwhelming horniness does a comically oversized wrench come flying and hits the back of the violet angel’s head; Roy holding the spot he got struck as he violently trembles. “Fucking…”

“While it’s flattering that you primates have at least decent tastes in knowing a fine catch when you see one. I am very aware when the line of thirst starts to cross harassment territory.” Vain assures. “Seriously kid, did you really just stop by just to have this purple prick gawk at us like an overly excited Splartian Hound in heat; ready to thrust its privates into anything that can bother pulsating in view. Cause I thought the fact that were stuck on this damn rock was getting you off enough.” Catastrophe questions. “Actually, we were hoping you three wound help us out with trying to figure out what exactly my bro’s new arm is made of.” the orange skater finally answers. “Really? I thought that human’s just grow their limbs back when one of them’s broken, just rip it right off to have another one come in the following week.” the charming alien fish boy comments. “That is...nowhere near how human biology works. Seriously hope you weren’t planning on testing that.” Mally worries. Right on that very queue does one of the boxes in the room tip over and partially reveal an unconscious man stowed away within; moaning aloud as he attempts to climb out with one of his arms taken away and stitched up wounds. Discovering this, Mally turns her upset glare over to the trio, Cat claiming that:

“Hey, don’t give us any bull. Dumbass just seriously wondered in here.”

“We gave him some amnesics to make him forget.” Tizzy adds. Clutching the barely conscious man by his shoulders does Cat stroll over to the door while dragging the poor guy along the floor; the alien girl tossing the guy straight out into the woods.

“Why you up and figure it was best to come here to try a figure out the hell is your bro’s arm.” Tizzy asks. “Well, one book we read on it mentioned that this stuff wound up coming from the depths of space and was hoping that-”

“Oh yes, I see. Since were not from your planet, that would make us the knowledge keepers of all that occupy alongside the stars. Is that it?” Vain accuses. “I was thinking since your parents were intergalactic conquerors, figured that maybe they’ve seen something like this before during a conquest.” Mally quickly gives context for. “Afraid your shit outta like, neither of our mom’s speak a mere mention of whatever disgusting growth came out of your brother’s side; pretty sure if we did, they’d tell us in the form of a terrifying bedtime story told to make ya piss yourself.” Cat explains. “Indeed. Truly humiliating.” “Vain, didn’t you wind up soaking your entire mattress once?” Tizzy wonders. “That was when we got back from swimming and you know it!”

“Kay here. Doesn’t this ship has some advance tech straight out from the realms of a shitty 90’s cartoon? You guys gotta at least got anything that can tell us what his arm’s made off?” Roy then interjects with. “If this ship didn’t take a crashing nosedive straight down into your planets crap that you call soil, we wouldn’t be talking right now. You really think that they wound up getting anything working in the span of a month since we touched down on this overpopulated rock in the middle of the space boonies?”

“Actually, I just finished getting the Material Analyzer up and running a few days ago. We could try that?” Tizzy then mentions.

“Ugh, fine whatever. The sooner you start, the sooner you leave. Make it quick.”

Somewhere within the ship does Roy have his arm of demonic pure black stuck right in a spherical chamber as numerous lasers and lights scan every single inch of them limb; all the data it collects showing up on a screen outside the chamber that Tizzy carefully observe. From this high tech device, a small beep them sounds off; queuing Tizzy to tell them:

“And the analysis is finished. You can take it out now.” “Holy shit finally. Started getting numb after the last half hour. Stuck my hand up something longer, but that’s a story for another day.” Roy states as he slithers his fresh pitch black arm out of the analysis machine’s inner chamber. “So, whatcha come up with?” the orange skater asks. “Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything else belonging to your brother inside. No bones, veins, blood, nothing. Kinda shocking given how close to unstable it is.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, there’s one detail that popped up that bothered me. The genetic make up of his arm primarily consists of strung together chemicals compounds such as Epinephrine, glutamate, Cortisol, Adrenaline, and slight traces of Serotonin. The stuff in your brains that make you feel angry, sad, and scared.” “Is that seriously... why did a bunch of emotional brain juice burst out from Roy’s side and solidify into a working appendage?”

“Maybe that’s something you should ask him.”

The alien suggesting this, the orange skater turns over to her purple brother to ask of him:

“Roy, what might’ve been going through your head moments before that thing came out of you ?” “Well...ya know how we were fighting that giant wood guardian in that hidden Jurassic land and how Alex got fucking impaled right through the stomach?”

“Yeah. I still remember how I felt when I saw that. But how did that wind up triggering you to grow an arm?”

“When I beheld the site of the little devil on a stick, something flashed before my eyes; an image that I felt burst out from the depths of my soul. Two figures, one stabbing the other through the stomach, one wearing a gleeful smile while the other leaked tears from above its horrified frown; both staring out with their hollow white eyes. That alone reminded me of a site that I kept buried deep down for years; and it all suddenly just came up at once like an explosion of confusion, regret, and rage. The closest I could describe it being like would be his mind of the proverbial traumatic edge; teetering on the cusp of madness.”

Upon hearing the purple merc elaborate on the thoughts going through his head is the entire room left at a complete silence; Mally gazing to her violet brother with a mixture of remorse, pity and regretful guilt. Before the orange girl could give even a little word of comfort to him do all of them hear a sharp whistle cut straight through the quiet; the three peering back towards the door to discover Catastrophe leaning against the doorway. “Now that shit’s a full season of a show right there. Closest thing to entertainment I got since crash down on this pathetic little rock.”

“Cat.” Tizzy lightly snaps out. “Something about my emotional trauma funny to ya?” Roy then questions. “You kidding? It’s like one of those shitty characters with a bad backstory crowbarred in to make idiots think they’re deep. Fucking riot right there.”

Amidsts stepping up against the hooded alien girl, the violet angel’s wings sprout forth as the fingers along his pitch black arm starts to get antsy; going on to trash talk on how:

“Guess being on your mama’s little warship for most of your life, ya never really got to feel what its like to be on the other end of life’s massive jackboot. Never really feeling what its like have shit throw right at ya. The fucked up thoughts going through yer head as the memories of all that ya lost come flooding out and crashing onto your psyche til your heads on the verge of melting from the madness…You wanna know what that sort of self inflicting degradation can feel like?”

“That a threat?” Cat wonders with a confident smirk; both of them stand face to face one another as the two give off an overgrowing sense of rising tension. Right as Roy was in the midst of transforming his new arm, something along his other side takes a gentle hold upon the merc’s other limb and breaches through to him, quelling the building rage within; the purple angel gazing off to the side to discover his little sister staring up to him with the look of “Please don’t do it” in her eyes.

In seeing the desperate plea set in his sisters eyes does the purple merc let out a small sigh as he finally breaks away from the antagonizing alien, marching right past Catastrophe and out to the corridor; the violet angel punching the side of the doorway hard enough to leave a hell of a dent. As Mally takes her leave after her pissed off brother, Tizzy approaches her sister with a hammer and tells her to: “Come on. You’re helping me hammer that dent out.” “Like hell I am. Why the hell should I fix something that our guest broke in his little pissy fit?” “Pretty sure you threw a pretty similar one when vain used your little blanket as a dung disposal cleaner.” “You swore never to bring that up!” the two of them hear their semi aquatic brother shout out to them.

As both brother and sister exit out from the downed spacecraft, the orange lass between them starts to apologize with:

“Roy...I-I’m so sorry. I just can’t believe that I didn’t catch on what was bugging you sooner than later. I-I didn’t realize that you were thinking about what happened at-”

“Mally, chill. Ain’t know way you could’ve known the sort of shit that was going through my head. I get you were just worried. But I’ll be just fine. Kay?”

“Hey! What happened back then effected Tore and I too. You ain’t alone on this...Anything ya wanna talk about, we’re here for ya.” “Hm hm hm...Thank’s Mal.” Roy returns with, a heartwarming smile etched across the merc’s face. “No prob...So...You thinkin about headin home?”

“Nah. Still got some stuff to take care of. I’ll be home a little later.”

“Kay. Just don’t get into too much trouble.”

Warning her brother of this does the orange skater swiftly don her skating gear and take off out into the woods; Roy in turn sprouting forth his angelic black wings and taking off into the orange twilight skies.

Among his glide above the nearly thick woodlands, Roy flies back out towards the city of Townsville with the setting sun glistening its twilight gaze at his back; his smile starting to dissipate the farther he flies. “You’ve been awfully quiet about all this.” he suddenly says aloud to break the silence. Out from the depths of his mind does a woman’s voice echo through the merc’s head; responding in kind to him with:

“What do you mean by that?”

“Hera, you usually just chime in in the middle of all this to give some sort of support or to stop me from doing something arguably reprehensible. What’s the deal this time?”

“Roy, have you ever thought a goddess such as I has other duties and responsibilities to tend to then communing with the only mortal I can converse with?”

“...You hiding something aren’t ya?”

“What!? Preposterous! What would urge you to accuse me of something like that?”

“Even with only having clocked in about 16 and a half years in this fucked up game some of us have to call life; I’ve been around long enough to see the warming signs of someone having a long list of secrets hidden somewhere in the bunkers of their head. And a goddess like you without a hell of a doubt’s gotta have some stowed away that vault ya call a head. With what’s on me having been once part of a mighty monster that nearly overtook the world; you think that keeping an eye on even a piece of it would warrant obligation. But Guess not, guess we’ll just blind move along through life; leaving me ignorant of what a threat this could possibly grow into until its far too late and lives are lost. But hey, what’s it with mortals wanting to question what may become of them midst affairs which affect their world, right?”

“Roy, believe me when I say I can’t bring myself to simply tell you with my own words. But if you really wish for the truth and what your arm has to do with me; then I can point you in the right direction.” the goddess in his head assures. “Eh, fair enough. Lead the way.”

The night upon Townsville had come to blanket the city in a think darkness, with nothing but the shadows to accompany the roaming night owls. Atop the mayor building, a dark winged figure hovers down to the very top of its dome rooftop; where upon its arm transforms into a sharp blade that cuts right through its very stone. Cutting a piece right off the roof, the figure lifts the piece right off and slips right on inside.

Along the inside the main office is the door unlocked when a substance of black fills the hole and turns the lock; letting the door creak open and letting the figure walk right in. Within does the figure behold the usual fittings of a mayoral office; books, chairs, desk, computer, bowl of mints, nothing out of the ordinary. And nothing to stop the intruder from venturing over to the desktop and taking a seat behind the screen. With the press of a button does the entire monitor let out an incredible bright light; Roy shielding his site from the intense glow as his eyes adjust to the glow, peeking between his fingers to behold his first obstacle. The password. Rather than blindly attempting to guess the password locking the desktop, the purple merc instead shoves his hand right into his pants pocket and pulls out what appears to be a lone thumb drive; plugging the drive right in and watching the password box fill with numerous letters and numbers until coming to the right code. As the desktop starts to load in, Roy is met with a site that honest to god just baffles him to no end. Is...is this seriously running on Windows 7? That’s 2010’s old. This a government owned desktop! Why the fuck haven’t they updated it yet for security!? Everytime on one of these government owned consoles, they always just have the most out dated Operating systems. One of the computers in the France federal agent building was running on Windows XP for shit sake!? Why!? It doesn’t make any god damn-...Gah! Whatever, not the problem here.

Getting over that strange conundrum, Roy takes the mouse and clicks right into the file explorer, where he starts his search right into the documents. See here...Billing info, Construction plans, Federal investigation, Homoerotic Fanfiction...Incident report. Clicking onto this folder is the purple merc astonished to discover the list of city incidents a literal mile long, the square of the scroll bar being absolutely tiny. Hmm...Dino monster attack, Fire monster attack, slime monster attack, Alien monster attack. Shit, alotta monster attacks here; practically makes up most of the list. Lets try sorting by date. Rearranging the reports by the date they had been documented, one title in particular catches the merc’s attention. “The lady of pink against the Cerberus. 1984” Interesting...Let’s have ourselves a peek here. Clicking right on this title, the document soon loads and present its very text through a writing application, starting his read on the incident beginning with:

“A terrible storm bellows from the east as horrible fires burn through Townsville, centers and businesses crumbling at the seems as a gigantic, dark three headed beast topples everything over in its rampage. Police and military efforts seemed ineffective as fired ammunition seemed to be devoured under the horrible cerberus’s tar like hide. Despite efforts to evacuate, few people escapes from the Chaos as dozens were left injured or burned; or a rather cruel mix of both. As hope for the city had waned to its worst, a female figure donning a heavenly pink glow had flown out from the roaring flames to face the terrible beast; her long blonde hair flowing in the wind. The best this report could describe the ensuing battle was of gods straight from tales of greek mythology; a recreation of the gods against the titans playing out before mortal eyes. With the godly woman of bright pink keeping the terrible beast of black at bay, officials were able to effectively evacuate civilians more effectively.

From what military that stayed behind described, the woman in pink had battled the vicious beast of dark with energy of bright light; her conjured weapons seemingly damaging the monster than any of our conventional weapons could only hope to do. Yet despite the warriors best efforts to defeat this great evil that had descended down upon the city, beast had ultimately worn down the woman midst hours of fighting; the horrible monster in the end devouring the woman in but a single gulp. All hope had seemed utterly crushed as the black demon had cackled upon its very victory; soon turning its burning eyes to the units that had stayed behind. All three of its heads bored a sinister smile as it crawled its way out towards the military unit; some of them fleeing from the seems on its approach while other’s stood their ground, knowing full well there was little they could do to escape from its wrath. Just as the three headed beast was on the verge of striking down the unit, the bowels of its stomach had began to glow a light of faint pink; a glow that quickly began to grow larger and brighter every passing second. In a matter of seconds did this very light explode in a flash of bright pink; blinding every single soldier that stood before the beast of darkness. Once the overwhelming glow had finally dimmed, the unit peered back to find the Cerberus that had terrorized the city was now but in pieces; all with no sign of the brave woman in bright pink light nowhere seen among the remains.

When the cleanup crew had arrived on the seen, most of the remains of the beast had been successfully picked up and stored away from researching purposes; those on the scene had described each piece of the monster as alive, pulsating and wriggling like worms plucked out from the soil. Other’s had witnessed some parts of the monster’s remains slipping away into the night and had attempted to contain every piece before they could escape; while most of the creatures remains had been successfully stowed away in containment, staff have admitted that few pieces had escaped into the unknown. What those pieces of the terrible beast had fled to or what they plan to do is as of yet unknown; something of which may never be realized, else that night may just be only the beginning.”

Its after having read every single paragraph of this report does Roy slump down into the office chair; processing every single detail that he had just read. “Can’t believe it…You gave up living alongside your family just so they could have a future.” Roy awe’s aloud.

“Indeed. And it was with that very sacrifice that I had been chosen to become a goddess.” Its in the midst of this realization that a small, uneasy chuckle starts to escape from him as he leans forward onto the mayor’s desk, Hera wondering in worry:

“Roy?...What’s wrong?” “What’s it worth becoming a god if it meant you couldn’t hold the people you love in your arms anymore; to not longer cherish their very presence as they take in yours? Why not just move on? Why not end it? Suppose those were your final moments inside that thing, weren’t they?” “Roy, when I was offered the position of a goddess. I was told it would involve ensuring the balance of the magical through the universe. Doing such, I could ensure those she left behind had a chance to live for themselves. It has not been easy since then...everyday, I wish to speak them once more, to hold my precious daughter and grandchildren in her arms.”

With all that he had discovered of the very beast that his new arm was once a part of, the violet angel gazes into the dark abyss held within the palm of his hand. “What do ya want done with it?”

“Pardon?” Hera questions. “Its thanks to the monster this arm came from that ya can’t go back to her family; to embrace the ones you loves in you hands. Just knowing that a piece of it is attached to the only person of this world you can converse with must piss you off to no end. Wanting to make sure what happened that night doesn’t befall anyone else.” “I assure to you Roy, that what happened to me that night was something I had decided for myself. I had chosen to give up my life so that others could live. But to make that choice for someone else...it something she could never bring myself to do. Whatever you decide, I’ll stand with you on it.” “No matter where it had came from, this damn thing had taken all the grief and anger that had wielded inside me and had given it a form; but only under my rage has it appeared and obeyed. With what Tore said he could do with life. I wonder if this is what I can do with what’s here?” “And is that what you wish out of it?” the goddess questions. Its in being asked this does the merc’s arm of pitch black clutch into a tight fist, the angel’s uncertain glare transforming into a determined grin. “That’s what it should be.”

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Thought that a little downtime would be appropriate here after the last chapter. Not a lot going on here beside a quick piece of lore and chemistry between characters. Though I purposely set this Chapter up as a repeat of the one where Roy was coping with the loss of his arm, thought it'd be thematically appropriate here.

#lillaxtrigger #Young Hope #callyieverse

[myherowritings]

Fever Talk

— “Side effects may include: light-headedness, disorientation, and accidental confessions of love.” You help nurse a fever-ridden Ground Zero back to health, but little did you know it should have come with a warning.

pairing: pro hero!bakugou x manager!reader word count: 3.9k genre: pro hero au, sick fic, fluff

a/n: i wanna take care of sick bakubabe and tuck him in and make him chicken noodle soup and see his flushed face as wipe away his sweat wait what o.o

In the 294 days you had worked as Ground Zero’s manager, not once had he taken a day off. 

Other than the government enforced national holidays (in which you still had to coerce him to stay home or spend time with friends instead of going to the agency to track new leads), not a weekday had gone by without you seeing him.

Until now. 

You had received a call directly from Bakugou’s physician (because you knew if Ground Zero had his way, he would show up to work regardless of what his doctor said), and they told you he was to stay home for the next three days because of a 38.6 degree fever. 

Your eyes bulged at the news. You haven’t had a fever that bad since you were in elementary school, and even then your parents made you stay home for almost the whole week.

“He shouldn’t overexert himself for the time being,” said his doctor over the phone. “I’m going to fax you the report and you have my full permission to use whatever means required to make Bakugou-san stay in bed.” 

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, sir.”

“Of course it is, Y/L/N-san.” There was slight static coming from his line. “It is Ground Zero, after all. If you’d never arranged for a car to pick him up and bring him to my office, the only time I’d see him is if he were fatally bleeding out.”

With small huff of laughter, you shook your head. The sad part was you knew what the doctor said was true. Bakugou would work himself to death he could. 

Thankfully, he had an amazing manager (you) to keep the stubborn ass (him) in check.

After ending the phone call with the physician, you settled down to get ahead on some paperwork while you could. But by the time one hour had gone by, you were already finished filing the pages and were left staring off into space as you wondered if Bakugou was doing alright.

You weren’t sure about him, but you definitely hated being left all alone while you were sick. 

Making your own chicken noodle soup just wasn’t the same as having someone make it for you with a sprinkle of love. 

You knew if you were the one with the 38.6 fever, you would want someone to come over and care for you. And you knew that although Bakugou would be utterly indignant if you showed up at his place to help him out, it would be better for him in the long run. 

At least, that’s what you were trying to convince yourself as you clocked out of work and made your way to the nearest convenience store, grabbing the ingredients for chicken noodle soup along with cough drops, lip balm, aloe vera tissues, teas, moisturizer, cooling pads, honey...and then some. 

Okay-- Perhaps you went a tad bit overboard with the care package, but it was only because you wanted Bakugou to feel better so he could get back to work as soon as possible.

There was definitely no other reason. 

You were sure of it.

As you stepped out of the elevator and made your way to his high-rise suite, you fished the spare key he gave you out from your bag. 

“Bakugou-san?” you called, knocking first for courtesy’s sake. When he didn’t reply you unlocked the door and opened it a small crack. “It’s Y/L/N! I’m coming in.” 

You heard a low grunt coming from down the hall and took it as an invitation to head in. 

When you walked inside, you noticed his living room and kitchen were, for the most part, exactly the same as it always did-- Well organized and thoroughly cleaned. The only thing out of place was the white paper bag on the counter with the medicine his physician prescribed. 

Setting the groceries next to his refrigerator, you headed down the hallway with the care package in hand. “I heard you’re not feeling well.” 

There was a quiet grumble of protest that made you snort.

“Can I come in?” you asked, stopping inches from his doorway. “I have some things for you.” 

“Hmmph,” was his coherent reply.

The first thing you saw when you walked in was Bakugou in the center of his king-sized bed, comforter and blankets half strewn across him, half draped on the floor. His cheeks were flushed a pale pink and his bangs were clinging to the sides of his face. He had dark circles under his eyes and his shirtless torso was glistening with cold sweat.

You blinked, dragging your gaze away from his chest. “You look terrible.”

He coughed. “Wow, thanks.”

“Have you even taken your medicine yet?” you fretted, going over to the side of his bed and pressing the back of your hand against his forehead.

His only response was a groan.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

In a weak movement, Bakugou swatted your hand away from his head and frowned. “I don’t need the stupid medicine.” 

You pursed your lips, checking his temperature once more only to have him shove your hand away. This game went on for a good five minutes before you cried out in frustration.

“Let me check your fucking temperature!”

His eyes shot open in shock before they narrowed in your direction. Through a fit of coughs, he yelled, “You’re not supposed to shout a sick person, baka!”

“There’s an exception if shouting is the only way words will get through the thick skull of theirs!” 

With an exasperated sigh, you cupped his face between your hands and kneeled down until you were eye level with him as he laid down on his bed. You felt him squirm in your grasp but you were unrelenting.

“What the-- What are you doing?!”

In a split second, you gently placed your cool forehead against his warm one, comparing the two temperatures. It was something your parents used to do when you were a child to check if your fever had gone down. The effectiveness of the method? You weren’t quite sure if it was effective at all, really. But you ended up okay, so something about it must’ve worked.

As you felt the heat from his body reach a temperature almost too hot to touch, you frowned. Bakugou’s lips were parted slightly as he let out light huffs of breath.

“Y/L/N…” 

You swallowed. His voice was raspy and his nose was flushed a cute pink color and you absolutely hated your brain for succumbing to the stupid Florence Nightingale effect.

You’re his manager, you scolded yourself. What were you thinking?

“Yes?” you said, a little breathless despite your better judgment. 

“I have to…” He blinked slowly, a weird expression on his face and he softly but firmly pushed you a good distance away. “I have to fucking sneeze--!”

Turning his head to the side as fast as he could and covering his mouth, Bakugou let out the loudest goddamn sneeze you had ever heard in your life. You could’ve sworn his million dollar windows rattled at the force of his monster sneeze.

You looked at him, slightly alarmed. “Uh… Bless you?”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, wiping his nose with a tissue before tossing it into a trashbag. 

Watching him with a curious--and also slightly grossed out--expression, you drummed your fingers against your upper thighs until you figured out what to say.

“Well,” you concluded finally, “you felt really hot.”

Katsuki gave you a blank look. “I could’ve told you that myself.”

You glared. “But I confirmed it.”

“Actually, the doctor confirmed it.” 

“Do you want me to make you chicken noodle soup or not?!”

He instantly shut himself up as he straightened his position on his bed. 

Tilting his head to the side, Bakugou mused, “You can cook?” 

You considered his question. You weren’t as great of a chef as he was, but you could hold your own in the kitchen. “Well, I can cook chicken noodle soup.” 

“Soup does sound nice…” he said dazedly, wiping the cold sweat off his hairline before shutting his eyes as a sudden tingle of pain hit him. 

Your expression softened to one of concern as you rushed out to get his medicine and a glass of water. You returned to his bedside and poured the proper dosage of medication in a small measuring cup. 

“Here. Take this and drink some water, Bakugou-san,” you said, extending your hands out to him.

He accepted the cup with a grateful nod. “Bakugou.”

You blinked. “Pardon?”

“Just Bakugou.” He drank the medicine in a gulp and washed the taste down with some warm water before meeting your gaze. “We yell at each other all the time and you’re here in my bedroom alone-- I think we’ve been past the honorifics for a while now.” 

Your cheeks heated up. Sure, the two of you were close-- Closer than most managers and their clients. But officially dropping the honorifics seemed like a whole other step in your relationship. And you hated that you were so happy about it.

“Right… Bakugou,” you said slowly, testing out the sound. You smiled, growing nervous as you looked away. “Well, Bakugou, I’m going to make you some soup now. You just drink some more water and lie down, okay?” 

Katsuki grunted in what you thought was a noise of agreement. 

You turned around to leave the room only to be stopped by his sudden voice.

“Y/L/N?” he called, placing the glass of water on his nightstand. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you choked out, surprised by his show of sentiment.

And as you hurried out of the room towards the kitchen, you tried to ignore the pounding of your heart as a disoriented grin spread across your face. 

Just Bakugou, huh?

- - - - -

“So, how does it taste?” you asked eagerly, staring at him as he took the spoonful of soup into his mouth.

“All my senses are dulled, but it seems good.” He swallowed the broth with a shrug of approval. “Do you really have to feed me though?” 

You stopped blowing air onto the soup-filled spoon to face Bakugou with a wide-eyed look. When you had returned from the kitchen with a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup in hand, you found him sprawled out on his bed with an eerily peaceful half-smile on his face. 

Meaning the medicine had just kicked in. 

Naturally, you were quite concerned over his unnervingly lax state of being, but after reading the warnings and directions on the box, your worries quickly faded. 

Side Effects May Include: drowsiness, nausea, fatigue, confusion, disorientation…

The list went on, but the only side effect you noticed was how disoriented and loopy he was. Katsuki was significantly less aggressive than his normal self and you could’ve sworn you even heard an uncharacteristic giggle or two come out of him. 

As much as you admired the headstrong and determined Ground Zero, cute and frivolous Bakugou was something you would most likely never witness again in your life. So of course, you had to make the most of it while you could.

“Of course I have to spoon-feed you, Bakugou,” you said with a tsk. “What if you spill on yourself and get even more sick?”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” he mumbled, but still parted his lips as you brought the spoon closer to his mouth.

You sighed, amused. Even drugged up with a 38.6 degree fever, he was still a smartass.

“Just eat your noodles.”

His nose crinkled at the demand in such a way that made you want to tweak it, but you refrained, instead scooping up more soup and cooling it down with some air. 

After the long (and rather difficult) process of making Bakugou finish his food and water, you quickly washed the dishes and cleared the kitchen, returning to his bedroom with a cooling pad in hand.

“Bakugou,” you said quietly, peering down at his resting form. “I brought you something.”

It didn’t look like he was in any pain, but his cheeks were still an angry pink color with damp hair framing his face. Kneeling by his bedside, you wiped a droplet of sweat from his brow with a hand towel and brushed his hair aside. 

His eyes fluttered open at your touch and his half-lidded expression was filled with daze and vulnerability. Katsuki reached his hand out to poke your cheek and you froze. 

“Wh-What are you doing?” 

“Your face looks nice,” he mumbled in reply, his voice so drawn out you were certain it could only be the medication talking. “And your hair, too.”

He grabbed a strand of your hair and ran his finger through before getting caught in a tangle. Bakugou’s mouth quirked downwards into a pout and you wished you had a camera at the ready to capture that moment (and definitely not use it as a potential source of blackmail).

Although you knew his words came from a fever-induced haze, you still felt your face heat up at all the attention he was giving you. “Thanks. Y-Your face looks nice, too.” 

“Hmm.”

With a satisfied nod, he dropped his hand and shut his eyes again, breaths growing steady. 

You let out an amused breath of laughter as you continued wiping the sweat off his face. When Katsuki seemed significantly less sweaty, you pressed the back of your hand against his forehead. His temperature didn’t seem as hot as before, but he would definitely not be well enough to go back to work tomorrow. 

“How are you feeling, Bakugou?”

“Hot.”

He tossed his sheets off him, revealing his perfectly toned chest and abdomen for the second time today. If you had known you were going to be attacked like this, you would’ve come better prepared with a cold water bottle and hand-held fan. Preferably with a mist attachment. 

You cleared your throat. “I brought a cooling pad. Would that be helpful?”

“Hmm,” he moaned in confirmation.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

While a cooling pad wouldn’t reduce Bakugou’s fever, it would help make the heat slightly more bearable. And as you felt his body heat, you couldn’t help but wonder if his quirk helped him stay more tolerant of the high temperatures, or only caused him to feel hotter-- But that was a question for another day when he was no longer ill.

Pushing his hair back to reveal his forehead, you placed the gel cooling pad you bought from the store on his face, gently smoothing it down with the pad of your thumb.

Satisfied at your work, you smiled down at Katsuki, ready to stand up and take your leave. But as you stood, his sudden voice stopped you.

“Thank you...angel.” 

Almost choked in surprise when you heard that word come out of his mouth. Was he referring to you? Well, of fucking course he was, you snapped at yourself. Unless he was talking to himself, you dumbass. 

You open your mouth and clamped it shut a few times, completely speechless as he laid on his bed with what you could’ve sworn was an amused smile on his face. Thankfully, you didn’t have to think of what to say because he seemed to knock out as quickly as he said those words. 

His breathing shallowed and you let out a sigh of relief knowing you were safe from further embarrassment for today. 

“Why can’t I just tell you I like you?” you murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear as he drifted off into a deep sleep. “You’re a stubborn client and you make my head hurt, but I can’t get your stupid face out of my head.” 

You glared down at him but, as expected from a sleeping person, the only response was a soft snore.

You sighed, pushing yourself off his bedside and wiping your palms against your upper thighs as you exited his room. “Get well soon, Bakugou.” 

Maybe one day you’d have the courage to tell him your feelings when he wasn’t sound asleep.

- - - - -

Three days had passed since you helped nurse Katsuki during the peak of his fever, and now he was back and better than ever.

Actually, that was a blatant lie he told you on the phone as he called in saying he was showing up to work. Most employees called hours earlier to say they were calling out. But not the famed Ground Zero-- Nope. He was certainly something special.

When he showed up, he was still coughing and sniffling here and there, but attitude-wise, it seemed like he was in tip-top shape with his usual obstinance and unyielding passion you had grown to admire.

“Glad you’re feeling better, Bakugou-san,” you greeted when you entered his office, a friendly but obviously work-appropriate smile on your face.

He raised a brow when he noticed, adjusting the cuffs on his work shirt as he glanced at you.

“What happened to just Bakugou, Y/L/N?” he asked nonchalantly in what was almost a playful tone.

You blinked rapidly. Did you get sick and now this was just some weirdly vivid fever dream? 

“Ah-- You had a fever when you said to drop the honorifics and so-- I figured it was just the illness talking.” 

“Well it wasn’t,” Katsuki said simply. “Why would I say something I don’t mean?”

Quirking your head to the side, you stared at him curiously. “So when you said I had a nice face and pretty hair and called me and angel…” you trailed off teasingly. “You meant it?”

A subtle blush formed on his face as he rolled his eyes, scoffing to disguise his embarrassment. You tried not to smirk. 

“Tch. I change my mind,” he grumbled, staring down at his unopened paperwork. “You’re right-- That was just fever talk.”

“Of course,” you agreed with an innocent smile that told Katsuki you didn’t believe him one bit.

Bakugou scowled. “What’s that smile for, baka? It’s not like you didn’t say embarrassing things yesterday either.”

“Oh, like what?”

“When you thought I was sleeping and told me you liked me.”

Your smile dropped and your face felt hot enough to burst into flames so big, it would’ve given Ground Zero himself a run for his money. When your gaze met his, you caught sight of the small smirk on his face and wondered how Bakugou was so quickly able to regain the upper hand. 

You told him you liked him when you were certain he was sleeping-- Not when you thought he was. He was snoring when you said it, for crying out loud! So either he was bluffing about hearing your confession, or he was only pretending to sleep the other day to hear what you had to say.

Narrowing your eyes, you huffed. You certainly wouldn’t put the latter option past him.

“You heard that?”

“Memorized every word.”

“Well,” you said haughtily, a sorry attempt to save face, “if what you said was just fever talk, then what I said was just Florence Nightingale talk.” 

He grunted. “That’s stupid.”

“So are you!” you cried, growing increasingly flustered by the minute.

“That’s not something you should say to your number one client.”

“And that’s not a tone you should use with your godsend of a manager!”

You felt the tension rising, but instead of him snapping back with a snarky comment that would send you to the grave, Bakugou let out a throaty chuckle that left you staring uncertainly at him.

“You’re right.”

You blinked. “I’m what?”

“You’re right.” He snorted at the confused expression on your face, but sobered as he said, “Thank you. For taking care of me the other day. I know it’s not part of your job description and you didn’t have to do that-- But you did. So, thanks.” 

Biting the inside of your lip you held back a shy smile.

“O-Oh. You’re welcome,” you said, a faint flush on your cheek as you tried to let go of the topic. “Anything for my favorite Pro Hero.” 

But apparently, Bakugou wasn’t ready to let go of said topic.

“Your favorite Pro Hero…whom you like?” he pressed, a mischievous glint never leaving his eyes.

A sinking feeling set in your stomach when you realized there was no use denying it any longer-- Bakugou would forever and always hold this against you and there was nothing you would do about it. 

“Maybe,” you forced out, puffing your chest up despite the shakiness of your voice. 

There was a beat of silence and you held your breath. The moment felt like it lasted for eternity and you were ready to plug your ears and run to the other room instead of waiting for his response. But you swallowed your pride and held your head up high… Only to hear a reply you were not at all expecting. 

“Good. Because I hear he might like you, too.”

Your eyes widened. “What? He-- I mean you… What?” 

“I like you.” Katsuki shrugged. 

You blinked. “I also like you.”

His red eyes gleamed as he grinned. “I know.” 

Bakugou took slow, purposeful steps around his desk until he stood mere inches in front of you. You gulped, eyes darting from the ceilings to the walls as you avoided his intense gaze.

“I like you and you like me. And we’re not dumb high schoolers in U.A. anymore, Y/L/N,” he said, an amused tone despite the serious look on his face. “So what are we going to do about it?”

“You tell me.” 

His eyebrow quirked at the challenge and you mentally high-fived yourself for your uncharacteristically nonchalant reply. “I think I’m going to do something I’ve wanted to do for a while now.”

Katsuki’s pupils were dilated and he looked at you in such a way that made exactly what he wanted to do quite clear.

You briefly looked around his office-- No one else was in the room, the door was shut and locked, and there was a handsome Pro Hero in front of you looking like he was seconds away from devouring his next meal.

“Then do it,” you said.

In the blink of an eye, Bakugou placed one hand on the small of your back to push your body closer to his while the other gently cupped your cheek, tilting your chin up as you met the teasing brush of his lower lip. A quiet gasp escaped your mouth at the sudden spark and you found yourself throwing your arms around the nape of his neck to steady yourself, fingers softly gripping the base of his hair as he deepened the kiss.

Katsuki kissed you until your head felt like it was spinning, then kissed you again once you had the chance to catch your breath. It was deep and passionate and all your senses were filled with traces of him.

“Well, we definitely did something,” you managed to say in between pants as his mouth found the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“Took us long enough,” Bakugou mumbled, lifting you up by the thighs as seating you on top of his desk. “Now, if we’re done talking, I think we have more things we need to catch up on.”

It was safe to say making out with Ground Zero in his penthouse office would forever be one of the best moments in your life.

a/n: whoop, the end! okay i know they don’t exactly act like manager and client but pfft i’ve been playing bts world and my managerial skills are great so i’m def qualified to write this ;p anyway hope you enjoyed this mess of a fic! i struggled so hard writing this request and i’m not that proud tbh but i hope it made you smile at least! :) xx sof

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