#‘put an X through their picture to indicate they are dead’

[darkbluekies]

Intruder 2024 ver

Yandere!mafia OC x reader

Summary: finding a mystical USB in your bag leads to more danger you ever could have anticipated. It leads you straight into the arms of a well respected mob boss.

Warnings: gore, kidnapping, breaking in, chains, crime, yandere

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: I thought it could be fun to remake my first one-shot almost 2 years later to see how I have improved! I hope you like the new version♡

Your hands tear through the bag, impatiently looking for the lip balm that is somewhere in the mess of papers, water bottles, wallets and receipts. Your head is pounding, your back is sore and your fucking lips are dry and you can’t think of anything else. You grab the backpack and turn it upside down, shaking it violently until every little thing has fallen out. Receipts dingle down like snowflakes. The lip balm falls out on the wooden floor and when you bend down to take it, you notice that it’s lying beside something that you can swear that you have never seen before. A white USB. Confused, you turn it around, looking for some kind of indication to remind you of what it contains. No tape, no pen, nothing. You sigh and stand up. Before walking over to your computer to figure out what contains on the USB, you smother your lips in lip balm. It gets in your mouth, tasting buttery and putting a greasy layer on your front teeth.

You sit down in front of your computer, boot it up and press the USB into the right port. If you see what is on it, maybe you’ll remember what you have used it for. It takes a few moments before a file pops up at the bottom of your screen. You press on it and are met by multiple folders, all having cryptic titles.

When have I ever done this?

Is this a Friday night drunk act? It would be an answer to why you don’t remember anything about it. You decide to press on one of the folders. Pictures and videos. Hundreds of them. You click on the first picture. What meets your eyes puzzle you. For a few seconds you can’t even process what you are looking at. A mushy red sponge-looking … something. When it hits you that what you are looking at is a dead, mangled body you gasp and shoot your chair away from your desk. A wave of mixed fear, disgust and disbelief washes over you as millions of questions bash into your head. Panicked worries about where the USB came from, who was in the picture, how many more there are like this, why you have the USB and if you would get in trouble and. If you give the USB to the police, would they find you suspicious? Would they think that you had anything to do with this? And will the ones who owns this USB kill you for it?

You find yourself pacing back and forth in your room as your heart beats in your ears. What are you going to do? You have to get rid of it. Quickly.

You turn back to the computer and pull the USB out as quickly as if it was on fire. The grotesque picture disappears. You drop the white stick into your pocket, as if it was really in flames. Just holding it made you feel dirty. You wipe your hands on your shirt, expecting it to smear blood. Nauseous, you run to the bathroom. Despite washing your hands in water and soap until your heads become gnarly and sore, you feel as if you have murdered that poor girl yourself and nothing will clear you of what you have witnessed.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom, how long you’ve tried to wash yourself of sin and guilt. Suddenly, the front door’s lock seems to click. You freeze, listen closely. Perhaps it isn’t your door? You quickly find that it is, indeed, your front door creaking open. Quickly, you get into the bathtub and hide behind the curtain. Your entire body trembled.

“Little thing”, a deep voice sing-songs in what can only be interpreted as amusement. “I see that you have something that belongs to me.”

The voice is unfamiliar, which is only for the best. You’re able to locate him in your bedroom.

The click of a gun snapping in place makes you flinch against the ceramic tub. If he finds you, you will die.

“Don’t try to hide from me.” You can hear the evident smile in his voice. “I know that you are here somewhere. I saw you on that low resonate web cam of yours just ten minutes ago! I don’t have time to play hide and seek with you. The longer I have to look for you, the less fun it’ll be for you when I find you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, praying that all of this is a horrible nightmare. Your chest is burning with fear. All you want is to scream and cry, plead and beg for your pitiful little life.

“Little thing, I know that you saw some gruesome stuff on that USB”, he says, his voice now drenched in false pity. “Don’t you want to get rid of that horrible filth, hm? I can take it off your hands. Just come out and give it to me and I will spare your life. What do you say?”

A silence follows. An excruciating silence that makes you want to claw out of your own skin. You prepare yourself to see him ripping the curtain away and putting a bullet through your skull.

“Oh, would you look at that?” His voice appears again, back to the amusement. “A call from your mother? Let’s answer, shall we?”

Panic goes through your entire body as you realize that he has your phone — and, indirectly, your mother, in his hands. You can’t let your family be involved in this! The more people who know, the more people will be in danger and the harder it will be to get out of this mess.

You hurry out of the bathtub, out of the bathroom. You make your way down the corridor and storm into your bedroom. The man is tall with hair as dark as night and when he looks over his shoulder you can tell that his eyes, as well, are as dark as his ruthless soul. He’s standing in front of the same computer you watched the picture on — the same computer he claims he saw you through. He smiles at you, a triumphed ‘i told you so’ smile.

“Please don’t”, you beg. “Don’t answer the call. Please.”

He clicks away the phone call before throwing the phone on the bed. He turns to you. He’s wearing a black suit.

“There you are”, he smirks and tilts his head. “You look much better in person.”

With trembling fingers you fish the USB out of your pocket and throw it at his feet. He looks at it for a few seconds, appearing clueless.

“Take it!” you shriek. “Take it and leave me alone!”

The man scoffs out a surprised laugh and lifts his eyebrows before slowly bending down and picking it up. He looks at it for a few seconds and then at you, meeting your eyes. They’re surprisingly calm.

“Please, just take it and go.” Your voice is barely audible.

The man stays silent for a few seconds before opening his mouth again. “I don’t think I can.”

“W-What? I haven’t done anything, I don’t know how it ended up in my bag, I didn’t steal it. I don’t even know when or how I got it.”

The man seems amused by your rambling. As if he’s hearing a little kid try to reassure their innocence in a sandbox fight.

“I know that you haven’t done anything”, the man calmly answers. “My man’s incompetence of carrying an USB is not your fault. But you have seen what’s on it. You know what it is, don’t you?”

“No”, you lie and shake your head.

He scoffs. “I saw you on your webcam. I know that you understood what was on it. Do you think I can just let you off the hook and walk straight to the police? Now that you’ve seen me too?”

You are going to die. Holy shit.

“I-I won’t tell anyone!” you stutter and start to back away from him. “I will pretend that I have never seen anything. No one will know. Please.”

Before you have time to run, he grabs your arm and pulls you back to him. You scream and try to fight back, but he’s bigger, stronger. He slams his hand over your mouth, forces your back against his chest. You sob and shake your head, your pleas getting muffled by his hand.

“Don’t cry, pretty thing”, he says. “It doesn't suit you.”

With that said, he pulls you out of the apartment. You can feel the gun in his pocket poking your back. You have never been this scared before, and have no idea what your body will do when it is this panicked. To your surprise, it decides to black out.

For a few seconds you're sure that you have dreamt the worst nightmare in your life, until you open your eyes and find that you aren't in your bed. You aren't even in your apartment. Quick eyes search around. A bunker or a basement. Those are your best guesses. Blood, both dried and fresh, covers the cement walls. You hurry to look around your body to make sure that none of the blood belongs to you. For the moment you seem to be unharmed. But for how long? You have chains around your wrists, ankles and throat to keep you in place. Like a dog. You repeat your name, your background and family in your head, just to not go completely insane. Will you ever see them again?

You damn that little piece of plastic and metal, wish that it would self-destruct and ruin that man's life. Such a little thing got you in such big trouble.

A door creaks open above you and your man starts to walk down the stairs to the basement. He's wearing a black buttoned shirt. He has something in his hands.

“Awake now?” he says.

You don't answer. He strolls over to where you're sitting and crouches down. He reaches out for you, removing some hair from your forehead. You will bite his fingers off if he doesn't keep them to himself.

You glare at him. You wish that your eyes could penetrate his skin and pierce his ice cold heart.

“What's your name?” he asks.

“Why do you want to know?” you ask carefully.

“It might be so that you'll have to stay here with me for a while. Telling me your name will make it easier for me to talk to you.”

“What's your name, then?” you ask.

He smiles, and the smile is almost soft. He seems amused by your counter question.

“Silas”, he says. “Achilleos.”

The name rings a bell in your brain. You've heard his name before. On the news. He's a mob boss. Your eyes widen. You really have screwed yourself beyond belief.

“My name won't hurt you”, he smiles.

“It's not the name I'm scared of”, you mutter.

“And your name?”

You hesitate. You know better than to give your name to a literal mob boss, but you also know better than to lie to one.

“Y/N”, you whisper, hoping that he won't hear and that you won't have to repeat yourself.

Silas makes himself more comfortable on the cold, hard floor. He leans on his arm.

“I have to say that I am genuinely sorry for this”, he says. “I don't like pulling innocent people into something they don't have anything to do with. Especially this kind of shit. I have more important things to do. My man stupidly dropped the USB into your bag and now that you have seen what's on it and know who I am, I can't let you go.”

Maybe you shouldn't have asked for his name.

“Normally, I would have killed you”, he says. “But I think that I'm going to keep you for a little while. You interest me.”

You lift your heavy, chained hands and cover your face. Sobbing. Silas removes your hands and lifts your chin up with his index finger.

“Let's make a deal, shall we?” he asks. “I will not hurt you … if you do as I say.”

“So I can't go home again?”

“No, because the second you put that USB in your computer, and I got the notification that someone had opened it, you’ve belonged to me.”

Beyond screwed isn't even enough to describe what you are.

“So?” Silas says. “Do we have a deal?”

What choice do you even have? You nod shortly.

“Good”, Silas says.

He reveals what he had in his hands when walking down the stairs. A small yogurt packet and a spoon. The text on the packet isn't in English.

“I used to eat this when I was a kid”, he says and opens the lid, giving it to you. “I guess that you're hungry.”

You shovel it into your mouth. It tastes like strawberry and is smooth in texture. It's first after eating it all that you remember who gave it to you and perhaps that you shouldn't have eaten it.

“No, I haven't poisoned it”, Silas scoffs. “Didn't I just tell you that I have planned to keep you alive?”

“You could have lied”, you whisper.

He scoffs again as he starts to remove the chains. The weight drops off of you like angel light. Silas pulls you up on your feet, buy your knees buckle the second you try to put pressure on them. Silas catches you and lifts you up in his arms. He carries you up the stairs, to a hall, and then up another flight of stairs. Your body aches.

Silas walks into a bedroom, dressed in modern interior design. You're placed down on a king sized bed, tucked in under heavy blankets. The crinkle of chains makes you flinch. Silas lifts an identical cuff to the ones you wore five minutes ago.

“This is just to keep you here”, he explains and places it around your wrist. “Sleep now.”

With that said, he walks out and leaves you alone. The door closes. You tug at the chain, but it's obvious that you'll stay there. Too tired to cry, you sink down on the mattress. Too alert to fall asleep you stare up at the ceiling. A thought crosses your mind, quick and easy, buy loud enough for your heart to ache. You have to get out of here before it's too late.

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Tim Drake: Ugly Duckling (dp x dc)

So this is the last day of pride month, and so also the last day of me trying to write as many LGBTQ+ canon dc characters. It’s been fun (and I got to read a whole bunch of comics which was actually much more fun than the first time I’d tried to read those!!)

Now even though this is the end of June, feel free to send an ask if you want me to write a blurb with any character. I make no promises, but I will very much try! (It might take a while especially if I’m in a Tumblr hibernation phase.)

Anyways, for the last day of pride month I wanted to do Tim Drake coz he’s dc’s main “it” gay girl. I’ve been working on this Dead Tired fic for ages, based on the post about Tim getting turned into a swan and meeting Danny, who as a prince has to give him a kiss to change him back (I can’t find the prompt but it was hilarious so this was my take on it).

Here’s the beginning of the fic:

Red Robin was on patrol duty, while Batman and Robin were following a lead on possible joker safehouses. All in all, It was a pretty quiet night with only two muggings, both low-energy as both perpetrator ran away as soon as a bat-shaped shadow moved. 

So Red Robin had spent most of the night chatting with Babs. He was grappling around town, as they started on the new date app they’d both found out Jason was using.

“I told him he can’t put only photos of his motorcycle but- wait I’m getting a call,” Oracle interrupted herself. Tim waited before the earpiece came to life again.

“Sorry to cut this short Red Robin, got a full-attention request from Canary. If you need anything, beep me, and Keep your coms open.”

“Bye, Oracle,” he said, and like that, Red Robin was alone once again.

 He stopped on Grand Avenue Station and just let himself take in Gotham. The city was beautiful at night, and Tim was itching for a camera. He seen hundreds of pictures of the city’s skyline but they always managed to be unique. The night sky may always be covered by dark clouds above, but Gotham had its own stars in the lights shinning on top of the skyscrapers. So lost in his thoughts, Tim was, he almost missed the soft noise that sounded behind him. The voice that sounded behind him was harder to miss.

“Wither away so late, Little Red Bird?”

Red Robin turned to see a tall woman standing half in the shadows

“Sorry, can I help you?” Answered the vigilante despite the bad feeling creeping up to him.

“I’d like to know where I can find your guardian,” the woman said, still in the shadows.

“You mean Batman?” He chanced.

The woman nodded and Tim resisted the urge to sigh.If this was another one of Bruce’s ill-advised fling, Tim was going to hack every electronic device the man had to play sex-eds on loops for at least a week.

“He’s busy at the moment.” Then feeling like he shouldn’t assume what the woman wanted Bruce for, he continued. “But if you need any help, I’ll do my best.”

The woman stepped forward, and Tim could see her better. Her face was bare, but her distinctive outfit seemed to indicate she was some kind of vigilante-slash-criminal. The outfit did, in fact, ring a bell in the back of his mind, but it was dim. Tim didn’t tense up, but he did angle his body in a way to accommodate for a better escape through grappling. She continued walking until she was within arm’s reach of Tim, towering over him. She extended a hand to lightly caress his cheek, and Tim went still at the touch.

“Such a kind Little Bird you are,” she said gently. “You know, you remind me of my daughter.” She sighed. “Oh, what pretty children you both are.”

“Thank you,” said Tim as he sidestepped out of the way. “I’m sure she’s a lovely person.”

“Oh she was,” the woman said and through his growing wariness, Tim spared a thought for the girl. “She had dark hair and the fairest skin, just like you. The most beautiful girl in the land some would even say.”

That niggling feeling came back as a feeling of familiarity poked at him once again. “You must’ve been very proud.”

The woman let out an airy laugh before saying playfully/contemplating. “mustn’t I?”

A shiver ran down his back. Alright, there was something wrong with this woman, and Tim wasn’t waiting around to find out what. Not without any information or backup.

“Well, if there’s nothing I can do for you, I really have to get going,” Tim said as he took out his grapple gun. In a second, the gun was ripped from his hand , and he was slammed to the side of the staircase leading up to the roof. He let out a gasp at the impact and his features tensed in pain. The woman hadn’t even touched him.

“Not so fast, Little Bird. We don’t want you going back to the Batman just yet.  I’m not ready to make him my Knight yet.”

“Your knight?” Tim managed to get out. He tried to move his arms, but some unseen force was pinning him in place. Shit, that meant he couldn’t reach the comm to send out a distress signal. Hopefully Babs would check in soon.

The woman smiled as she approached him once again. “What better for a Queen, than a Dark Knight?”

And just like that it clicked. “You’re the Queen of Fables.” 

“Well look at this, you’ve got the brains and the beauty,” she teased, her voice as smooth as honey.

“What do you want with Batman?” Tim asked though he could guess from previous encounters she had had with the Justice League that the villainess wanted to turn Bruce into a fairytale character of some sort. She’d done the trick on Clark, and twice on Diana, so it was probably Batman’s turn now. So, yes, Tim could guess, But the longer he kept her talking the more time he had to figure out a way out of this.

“I told you, he’ll be a Knight of the Queen,” She extended a hand and tilted Tim’s face up. “Do you know what that would make you Little Bird?” 

Most villains assumed the batclan worked like a crime family. So the family of a knight? “Nobility,” Tim guessed, unsure where this was going.

“Exactly.” She smiled, and then she moved. Tim braced for the hit.

Instead of a punch though, he only felt a tingling sensation. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, only for them to grow bigger as he took in his uniform. Or the lack thereof.

He was in something-century clothing, in some sort of frilly shirt and pants, all in white. This was worse than a punch. Then, as the thought hit him, Tim’s hands flew to his face only to come in contact with the silky fabric of a masquerade mask. He sighed in relief, and as he calmed down, he realized he was now free of the force pinning him down.

“The color is for my daughter,” the Queen said. Then, she let her head fall to the side before tracing a line across his forehead and Tim could feel something like a circlet setting down on it. “There you go. Now, it’s perfect. You could practically be siblings.” 

“No thanks.,” Tim answered.

The Queen tsked him. “That’s no way to behave Little Bird, has nobody taught you to say thank you when you receive a gift.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Tim disagreed mildly as he took stock of his weapons. Everything was gone, including the earpiece, which meant Babs had to have been alerted and someone was en route.

The Queen frowned. “I was going to be merciful, for you guardian’s sake, but I no longer feel generous.” She raised her hand and Tim tried to roll away, but the magic beam swerved and hit him in a blinding flash of light.

When he managed to open his eyes once again, the world seemed quite a bit bigger than it had been moments before. 

“What did you do to me?” He said. Or tried to say.

Instead a strange squawk echoed and Tim took a step back in surprise. However, he lost his balance and started to fall and as he tried to catch himself with his hand, two large white wings unfolded. He dropped down, which wasn’t as far as he would’ve estimated and laid stiff. He moved his left arm, and a white wing followed suit. 

Oh, no. Oh no no no.

A grating laugh interrupted his freak out. “There you are my pretty Little Bird, all better. White really is your colour, don’t you th-“

With a loud hiss, Tim propelled himself towards the woman. Making use of his newfound beak, he pecked and bit everything he could, as he flapped his wings.

“Blasted creature- Get off! Stop it, you despicable, puny-“ 

Finally she managed to grab Tim and throw him away from her. He landed with a squawk, but managed to get himself back to his feet quickly. “You little/awful brat,” she snarled. “You’ll pay for this!”

But as the Queen threw out her hand, something rippled in the air between them and the magic beam seem to explode midway into a green vortex. Tim’s clumsy attempt at waddling away had him head straight towards it, and it was in vain that he tried to redirect the course. She and Tim made eye contact as the swan-boy tipped right into the swirling green vortex, both of their eyes wide-open in surprise.

Danny was exhausted. He was currently on week one of the full month of Royal Duties he’d promised Clockwork. Being Prince of the Infinite Realm was not all that it was cracked up to be, and that was saying a lot since he had already been expecting it to be awful. 

When Clockwork had made the request, Danny had proceeded to freak out about his new status, and then tried to abdicate. It was only the master of time reminding him of all the terrible possible candidate for the throne per rites of combat (such as Vlad) that stopped him from washing his hands of this mess. And now Danny was forced to spend one whole month of his summer vacation in the Ghost Zone to fulfill his duty as a Prince. 

He thought it would be some paperwork, maybe a battle or two, nothing too bad, but nooo. Because, of course nothing was easy, Danny had to show up at Events, and be Diplomatic. It was meeting, after meeting, after weird parties that were a mix between Medieval Banquets and Debutante balls. 

And worse of all were the marriage proposals. Danny could sorta understand, marrying into royalty was a definite plus for a lot of more powerful ghosts but when they called him a half-breed behind his back, only to smile in his face with a marriage contract in one hand and flowers in the other, that was where he drew the line. 

Plus there was also the fact that he was, like sixteen.

Suffice to say, Danny was exhausted and hiding out in Pariah Dark’s old castle as a last resort. It wasn’t his favorite place all in all, but the gardens were absolutely beautiful, which was where he was walking. He was currently headed to the hedge maze, since it was the best way to get rid of any tails he may or may not have. 

The maze was nasty if it didn’t like you, and it didn’t like anybody but Danny, and even then, it still tried to take a bite every once in a while. Despite the snaking vines and roots trying to capture anything that moved, the flowers that wailed softly when disturbed or the sharp thorns of the hedge plants themselves, it was still a beautiful place. Uniquely, the closer you got to the centre, the more colorful (and dangerous) everything got, which was why he liked it best. 

He reached the centre much quicker than the first time he tried, thanks to the maze actually helping him, and something pale caught his eye right in the middle of the open area, right next to the bench Danny loved to use. As he got closer, he realized it was a swan laying on the floor, seemingly unconscious.

“Oh no,” Danny said as he approached. “What happened to you?”

As if awakened by the sound of his voice, the swan started to shift, its wings twitching and it rose its head groggily. As soon as it clocked in Danny, it let out a surprised squawk, followed by a long hiss as it struggled to move away.

“Hey, hey, none of that, Duckie, you’re ok.” Danny raised his hands placatingly. “I don’t want to harm you, ok? I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

The hiss subsided by a bit, but that may have only be due to the swan managing to get further away.

“Sh, sh, it’s ok,” Danny repeated as he slowly inched forward. The swan stopped hissing but still observed him warily. “I don’t want to hurt you Duckie, but I do think we’d better get you out of this maze.”

Danny took another step, and this time the swan stayed still. “How about bringing you back to my rooms just for now.” The swan hissed louder at the statement. “Don’t worry Duckie, I’m not keeping you prisoner it’s just this maze has been known to eat people. And you’re too pretty to be eaten,” Danny flashed a smile at the swan which had it stare back with a gaze saying really?

“So what do you say, wanna crash at my place?” Danny asked. The swan didn’t move forward but he didn’t move away either.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust a guy who talks to birds either,” Danny allowed. “And the place where I’m staying is a little gloomy, so I don’t blame you, but I can’t leave you here. The maze is honestly really dangerous, especially for a nice bird is like you. “

The swan seemed to hesitate before it hesitantly made its way to Danny. Ghost animals were usually smart but the swan seemed to understand English, which made communicating that much easier. Danny smiled and opened his arms. “I can carry you.” The swan just looked at him, with what Danny would’ve thought was a deadpan stare. “It would go much faster.”

If the swan was human it probably would’ve sighed, but instead, its wings just fell a little before it waddled towards Danny and looked up as if to say ‘get on with it’.

Danny smiled and gathered the animal in his arms. “Buckle up,” he said before flying off towards the maze exit, which was accompanied by a low hiss. Making sure there was nobody there to ambush him, Danny made it back to the castle in record time.

“Here we are Duckie.” Danny set the swan back down and it plopped down on the ground and just steadied themselves for a while.

Tim was a swan. He had wings and no fingers, and his feet were webbed.

He was handling it though. By which Tim meant he was shelving the impending panic attack for later when he wasn’t stuck in a swan body. 

Ok, so he’d been turned by the Queen of Fables, so there had to be an answer in a fairytale,a way to make him normal again. He knew the ugly duckling story. That had a swan in it, right? He didnt know any other swan stories, except maybe as a dish during the wedding banquet of whichever princess. He vaguely remembered a Barbie movie that had passed on the TV when he was younger but the only thing that came to mind were a scary-looking Troll thing, and ballet.  So with lack of better alternatives he was going to go with the ugly duckling. The ugly duckling’s happy ending was reuniting with family, so maybe all he needed was to make his way back to Gotham.

“Are you ok?” 

And that was another thing. The guy. The one Tim had at first wanted to get away from. He seemed nice and all, but he also had neon green eyes, and fangs. Unfortunately, while they suited the boy very well, they also marked him as an unknown. 

On the other hand, if the glowing portal wasn’t enough of an indication, the green tinge of everything around was clear indicator that Tim wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The guy seemed to want to help him, and having an ally wherever he was could only help.

Tim nodded as best as he could with his long weird neck, and he had to take a few steps to regain balance.

“That’s good,” the boy smiled with his white pointy canine. “How did you end up in the middle of that maze?”

Tim just looks back tiredly. He didn’t know how to even try and explain when he couldn’t say a word and had no opposable thumbs.

“Yeah, sorry.” The boy winced. “Maybe stick to yes or no questions.”

There was a sharp knock at the door that had the boy turning away.

“Prince Phantom!” A voice rung through the door.

Prince? 

The newly-dubbed Prince Phantom got up to open the door, “yes, what can I do for you?”

“Your meeting with Queen Dora is approaching. Do you still prefer to forgo an escort guards?” a purple lady was saying.

“I’ll be fine without, Maj but thank you very much,” Phantom answered with a polite smile.

“I’ll pass it along, my Prince.” She bowed and closed the doors behind her.

Phantom walked back to lay on the bed with a sigh. “I really hate that they call me that.” He turned towards Tim to continue. “I bet swans don’t have royalty. You guys had the right idea.”

[bugmomwrites]

Weary

Dr Flug x Reader

Stealing my sister’s bf’s HBO password is the second best thing I’ve done this week. Whipping up a solid drabble in 30 minutes and refining it into a whole oneshot in the same night takes first place.

There’s like, one innuendo towards the end but everything else is straight up fluff. Story came to me after reading yet another shady thing a certain airline I won’t name did, but it sounds like “we ain’t going”. I am changing the names so I don’t end up dead in a van somewhere, but if you know you know ;)

—•• •—• ••—• •—•• ••— ——•

“…And then what happened?”, Flug yawns, looking up at you through his goggles. You smile gently, kissing the front of the bag where his forehead would be.

“Well, according to some sources…the former production and safety manager’s exact words were ‘if anything happens, I didn’t do it myself’,” you respond, reading the article off your phone. Using the same soft voice you use when you read picture books to a sleepy 505, except it was a news article turned Wikipedia rabbit hole.

You two had gone from listening to him explain the differences between a 767 and an Airvan, to him resting his bagged head in your lap as you click on various entries and articles, bouncing information back and forth. The person, a known whistleblower who had retired from the controversial airline a few years ago, had tried many a time to draw attention to the company’s shady practices. For him to die so suddenly, especially as more inside secrets came to light, was too fishy for the public to ignore.

“I’m no detective, but…”

“Assassination?”, you finished for him, raising a brow. The two of you exchanged knowing looks.

“Does the Dreamweaver have flexible wings?”, he grumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist to bury his head further into your tummy. It tickles, but you try not to laugh lest you disturb his rare peace. Moments like these didn’t happen often, and you knew if any of the others were to see you like this, Black Hat would tear you both a new one, and Demencia would never let you hear the end of it.

A few more minutes go by, occasionally filled in with fun facts about the company’s various other incidents that had made the news in the past. You click off of yet another one where a plane was literally falling apart mid-air, having to make an emergency landing in a massive blaze. That was enough internet for today, at this rate you’d never want to hop in a plane again. You carefully set your phone to the side after checking the time.

“If I were him, I wouldn’t have let them get me.”

“I know, Flug.”

“And I would have documented everything.”

“Mhm”, you rest a hand on his back, your own eyes growing heavy.

“I’d go down there and put them back together myself. I’d personally take all of their shitty scrap parts, and make a better airplane than any of those so called professionals,” he says disdainfully.

You smile as he heaves a long sigh, like the weight of the world rests upon his weary shoulders; which isn’t far from the truth, if the way Black Hat nags him and Demencia torments him on a regular basis is any indication. Not to mention raising a son/care bear/science experiment through it all. But even if it’s not quite the whole earth, at the very least it’s the whole company. Everybody ought to give him more credit, himself included.

“If anybody could do such a thing, I know it’d be you, Flug. You’ve always had a brilliant mind.” He hums softly at the praise, feeling quite chuffed to know that at least someone in the manor besides his own son appreciated him not just for all he does, but who he is.

It’s quiet again for a few moments as he drifts in and out of consciousness, your hand gently rubbing his back until he speaks up again a few minutes later.

“And I’ll make you my co-pilot.”

This takes you by surprise, the hand rubbing his back stopping briefly as you let the words settle over the two of you. Reading between the lines was something you found yourself doing almost as often as reading his expression through his paper bag, the man still not quite comfortable enough to outright say all the things he’d had bouncing around in his head to you just yet. Your hand resumes as you test the waters, stuck between delicate hope and fear of possibly scaring him off.

“I…don’t know how to fly a plane. Nor do I have a pilots license.”

“Me neither, but I’ll show you how to do it in the cockpit. I’ll make sure you have a smooth ride for your first time.”

A pregnant pause falls over the both of you, and your whole face heats up, mind processing his words only to take a nosedive into the gutter. You open your mouth to respond only to be met with quiet snores from below, Flug blissfully unaware of the effect of his words.

‘Looks like the week finally caught up to him’, you think. Odds are he might not remember something like that when he woke up, but you could tease him about it later on. For now, you stretch your arms over your head and attempt to make yourself as comfy as possible without disturbing him, sleep beginning to overtake you as well. You glance down once more to where he dozes peacefully for the first time in years, committing it to memory before joining him in slumber.

“Buenas noches, Flug.”

—•• •—• ••—• •—•• ••— ——•

[s1ater]

boy in the rain.

pairings. matt sturniolo x fem!reader

about. one simple offer of a ride home in the rain turns into an unforgettable relationship and sad ending.

warnings. death, swearing, and unedited

ricky rocks. this might be a hit or miss, so don't dawg on me too hard.

pictures of him were plastered everywhere.

your heart was buried deep in your stomach from the moment you saw it and it only sunk deeper and deeper the more the hours past, the voices that rung through your ears, and the solumn feeling that colored the hallways.

dead. he's dead.

believe it, don't believe it, you still searched for his face as each person passed you, in each class that you entered; looked for any sign of him.

but he was dead.

**

you stood beneath the awning of the gas station, gazing out at the summer rain looking to pour itself onto anything and everything unprotected. you frowned hard as you observed, not expecting your walk for a slushy to be intruded on, especially this abruptly. it was a humid night and therefore even more horrendous that such heavy rainfall came to clash.

you sighed, making a move to go back into the grimy gas station when he called out.

“hey, you need a ride?”

you stopped, turning toward the direction of the only car inhabiting the gas stations parking lot, squinting, and indicating a boy in the front driver's seat. he wore a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his head, squinting back at you due to the rain spitting in his face from his rolled down window.

you knew him.

"are you serious?"

you can barely hear his laugh, but it was there, and you almost melted right there to the cement, "yes. c'mon, I won't leave you stranded."

the ten feet you had to walk to his car was horrible, so you were immediately thankful for the offer the moment you slung yourself into his car. he must have been able to tell too by the way his laugh once again rung through your ears, watching you attempt to catch your breath in his passenger seat.

"I'm matt," he smiled from ear to ear in amusement, offering his hand to you as you clutched your sopping wet body.

"I know," you chattered through your teeth, no longer suffering from the everlasting summer heat from outside, but the air conditioner blasting in matt's car. "sturniolo."

"oh, you know," he was still highly entertained by whatever this situation he put himself in, especially by the way you side eyed his hand still waiting for yours. "you cold?"

"no," you lied through your teeth, still shaking.

he smiles, turning the ac off and switching the heat on low, "right. what's your name?"

you felt a sudden chest pain at the question. you had been going to school with matt since the 7th grade. you had classes with him, had seen him outside of school at parties, hangouts. you knew who he was, so why didn't he know who you were?

your frown was obvious, and he couldn't help but have felt that he fucked up, like his question was preposterous and insulting, "moe."

a lie, again. and just like the first, he could tell it was one, once again.

"you go to mountainview, right?"

"yeah."

he nods, and the previous amused smile is gone and a narrowed stare is there to replace it. he's unsure why you lied and why you were suddenly so upset.

"shit, I'm getting your seats wet," you suddenly became hyperaware of your drenched self pressed into his leather seats.

"you're good," he glanced to your lap suddenly, watching you squirm, as if attempting to reposition yourself in some way where you weren't soaking his seats, but you only made yourself look like a fool. "I wouldn't have asked you in the car if I cared so much about my seats."

you smiled sympathetically.

"so, moe, where to?"

**

his locker was heavily decorated. flowers, hearts, cards, pictures of him with friends, pictures of just him. you stood across from it, staring at each individual item that was taped down to show love and sympathy and hope. you glanced down to the palm of your hand, clutching the necklace you held tightly before bringing it right in front of you.

the necklace, or rather locket, swayed back and forth with the golden heart weighing it down.

it was no longer meant to be yours.

"how'd you get that?"

your head cranked to the left where a boy stared you down, his cheeks flushed but vision narrowed down on you, "huh?" you quickly dropped your arm down, shoving the piece into your pocket.

"where'd you get that?"

your eyes widen, realizing this was an exact replica of matt storming toward you, but with longer hair; chris. you felt your heart push up into your throat, feeling yourself backing on your feet the closer he got.

"answer me."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," you swing around, marching away from him the best you could as he still tried to trail behind you.

"that's matty's."

**

"this rain is going to kill me," you watch his knuckles flex over the railing as he grasped it tightly, leaning over the edge, gazing into the pitch dark. it had been weeks since matt had first picked you up in a rain storm at that gas station, and ironically, once again he had found you.

the two of you now sat in a watchtower in the middle of town that you had taken him to the first night, gazing out at the building lights being blurred by the rain that hadn’t let up in days. matt was impatient by this, you didn’t have to know him well or see him more than a minute to know this.

“why don’t you like the rain?” you laughed silently at him as you watched him grit his teeth, turning back around to face you.

he suddenly looks sad.

you regret asking the question.

"I just lost someone really special to me," his eyes strayed from yours, meeting the wall of rain behind you, "and the day it happened... all it did was rain."

you watch him carefully. his tone was steady but you could tell it took a lot in him to keep it that way.

"I-" his hand reaches for the chain around his neck out of sudden instinct, wrapping his fingers around the golden material. "I can't stand rain, not after that. it makes me feel sick to my stomach. it's all I think about and it's like it's following me."

you feel a sudden push on your body, like a force guiding you to him, "oh, matt-"

"y/n-"

"I'm sorry," you ignore the short sound of protest, finding yourself attaching to him with your arms wrapped around his neck. "I'm sorry."

his body is stiff and cold and you can tell that everything in him is trying to resist the warmth of your own. he wants to not want it, but he fails the resistance and every voice in his head telling him he was fine and the hug was a ridiculous gesture. he fails, allowing the barrier of your warmth to immerse into him, accepting the hug that was really far from ridiculous, but needed.

**

you weren't going to go.

after your small encounter with chris, you were practically setting yourself up by attending matt's funeral. but you couldn't not go, not after everything.

that morning it had rained.

that had been a first since one of the last days of summer. the rain had glistened everything, made everything seem so renewed and bright and so fresh for a november evening.

it took a lot for you to walk through those doors, walk up those stairs, and even sit down to watch the service. you could barely sit there for a second before walking right back out onto the front steps.

you feel suffocated. you claw at your chest, digging your fingers against your skin before they find the locket--looping your fingers against the golden chain out of instinct—like he did. you dip your head backwards, inhaling strongly, trying to breathe the images of matt away from your mind.

bad idea.

especially when you realize you're not the only one on the front steps.

“you’re moe, aren’t you?”

you look down and the feeling in your chest becomes worse.

chris stares up at you from where he sits on the cement steps. you can't tell what the look in his eyes are, but it's nothing you find enjoyment in--especially when they mirror matt's exact pupils, his exact iris', his exact color...

you feel deeply disturbed that he looks at you with something that matt never did.

“yeah…”

he scoffs, running his hand down his mouth, "yeah... great."

"how'd you know?"

"that's our mother's chain, y/n," he looks back around and ahead of him, but still mindlessly points back at the golden locket around your neck. "she gave it to matt before she passed."

oh.

oh. oh. oh god.

"but I'm sure he told you if he gave it to you."

no, he didn't.

"how'd you know I was moe?"

he laughs a little, genuine as he digs the heel of his palm into his eyes, "moe; 'heaven', 'rain', and 'sky' from burmese origins. he knew you were lying the moment you told him that, but he didn't know why or even why 'moe'?" you smiled to yourself. "had us up all night looking up the meaning of 'moe' and decided it had to be that. met in the rain, name means rain."

"clever," you whispered, slowly taking a seat next to chris. "couldn't keep anything anyway from him."

"yeah or you're just shit at lying," he scoffs, glancing at you. "but it's funny you tried."

"funny I tried," you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head, as if laughing at yourself.

you knew about chris and you knew about nick, just like you had known matt before you actually knew him. but getting to know matt, was also like getting to know his two other triplets. he told you everything.

and because of that, he told you about chris.

"I should give this to you," you find yourself reaching behind your neck, unclasping the locket from your neck. "it belongs to you."

he told you how chris never took anything seriously, he told you how chris was really good at brightening a room because of it, and he told you how angry chris was when matt was the one given the locket and not him.

it made a lot more sense now that that friend was actually their mother.

chris glanced at you before doing a double take, realizing what you were doing. his eyes softened fast at the sight of the heart swinging back and forth between the two of you. he didn't take it. you were both sitting there, watching the priceless piece hold there for the taking, and he still didn't take it.

"y/n," his voice is soft and almost sympathetic, but his eyes are still trained tightly on the piece of jewelry. "that's-that's, I can't take that."

but no matter how angry chris was about the locket, he accepted it wasn't his. and what wasn't his, he wouldn't take.

"what do you mean?"

"matty gave that to you. it's yours."

"but I don't deserve it."

"y/n," he shakes his head, pushing the necklace back to you. "it's yours now, okay? there's a reason matt was given that locket and there's a reason it was given to you, okay? I don't need it," he shakes his head, his eyes wide and red. "I don't need it."

you feel your eyes burn. the desperate sound of chris' voice makes you want to burst out into tears. you don't know what to do, and he can tell. he takes the locket, but not for reasons you want.

"here," you watch chris dig into his suit before pulling out an envelope. "before... everything," he coughs a little, beginning to feel his throat closing up. "matt wrote you something."

all icy provision from before has melted. his whole body is turned all the way to face you now, no longer to you as a stranger, but someone he understands.

"take it," he paired the envelope with the necklace before pushing it to you. "read it when it rains."

**

"you ever get sick of me?"

it was a month and half into the school year and what you thought was only going to be a summer friendship, blossomed into something else.

your question made matt arch a brow, questioning if you were being serious, "what?"

"I mean day and night, we're the only people that see each other. how do your friends not hate you?"

it was true. you rarely ever saw matt at school unless in the halls or even on small occasions of going to lunch together, but it was like every time after that, he was at your house. matt valued his time and when it was open and free, he always spent it with you.

you had had this conversation before, multiple times. you were always the one who started them.

"I could never get sick of you."

the only reason you questioned it so often was because of how different you and matt were. the two of you becoming friends and being as close as you were was the most unlikely thing you could ever think of. the two of you had no connections what so ever in friends, hobbies, or even classes. your lives rarely ever crossed beyond in the hallways or parties.

"you act like we're not friends," he crashes onto your living room couch, slightly amused. "you're my best friend."

you feel your face burn at the comment. it paralyzes you more than it should. you also considered matt to be your best friend, but it still catches you off guard hearing the words allowed. you're not sure what to say.

"im not yours?"

"you are."

"I figured," he's grinning now, "just making sure."

it's silent.

"I value our time a lot, you know that," you've heard this a million times, but you could never get sick of it. "we don't know how much time we get with someone, so it's important to me to fill my time with someone I care about."

you finally take a seat next to him, watching him with a ghost of a smile on your face as he speaks.

we don't know how much time we get with someone.

"I want to give you this."

you watch as matt brings his hands behind his neck, unclasping the chain that you had became so accustomed to seeing around his neck.

your mouth slightly opens, "what?"

"I want you to-"

"matt, that's-" you shake your head, cutting yourself off. you couldn't even process this gesture. "I can't take that from you."

"you can."

you really couldn't. the first time you had seen the locket was the first time he had told you about why he didn't like the rain. he had clutched onto it like a safety net. after that, that necklace was all you could see on him half the time. it took him two months for him to tell you what it was and that was exactly why you couldn't take it from him.

"I can't, matty."

"why?"

"because it's yours and I can't take something that was given to you--especially if it was by someone who mattered a lot to you."

he looks as if he thinks about it, his eyes lowering down, looking to the gold heart, before back up to you, "yeah..."

even if you were right, he didn't care. the piece was always significant to him, but there was a point in time where he was ready to let it go--hence why he left it on your kitchen counter without your knowledge.

**

moe,

I know you're already laughing at me, wondering why you're reading something I could easily say over the phone. but I know you eat this up, even if you like to think it's corny.

you were never someone I thought I needed. from the moment I received that locket from my mother, was the moment I was ready to give up. my mother was my best friend and someone who taught me everything that matters.

you remind me of her--in the least weirdest way possible. you made me what I missed, you were exactly what I needed and wanted.

you keep me sane and well structured. I used to hate getting up in the morning, but after that moment, in the watch tower, when you hugged me even as we were strangers, I couldn't wait to wake up to see your face again.

I felt like a fool. I felt like how chris probably feels everyday. it's a feeling I hope I never forget or never leaves me.

you are special. you are worth all the time in the world. the day I forget that or the day I forget my priorities is a day i'm dead.

I hope to never lose you or whatever it is we have, and if I do, moe, my sweet, sweet moe, I'll find you in the rain.

matty.

[literary-motif]

ALEX ANGST PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEEEEE 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Don't Look At Me

Alex x Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety attacks

You awoke to soft crying in the dead of night, the deep darkness disorientating you for a moment as you were torn from your slumber. You lay still for a moment, your brain needing time to catch up with reality — Alex was sobbing quietly beside you, his face buried in the pillow to keep quiet. You could hear him choking on his tears. 

Cautiously, you rolled over to face him, contemplating whether or not your touch would be appreciated at the moment. Your argument was still ringing in your ears, his angry gaze as he told you to quit being so protective, the annoyed scoff he had let out as you voiced your fears; the harsh words you had spat back at him, watching his heart crack through his eyes at your ruthlessness. 

Suffice to say, you had not spoken for the rest of the evening, retiring to your shared bed with your backs to each other. The silence had been loaded. Still, you preferred the thick quiet of your slowly fading love to the muffled cries of Alex breaking apart beside you — so close but out of reach regardless. 

You could feel the trembling of his body, shaking so violently you feared this was more than just an expression of sorrow. “Alex?” you asked, voice a breath. You knew Alex fought with anxiety, and the thought of his suffering through an attack alone — unwilling to reach out to you for support — just because you two fought earlier made you feel sick. 

Sure, you were angry and hurt, but you would always put that aside if he needed your help, especially about something as serious as this.

He did not answer, instead curling into an even tighter ball and swallowing down his cries until only his hiccups and uneven breathing remained to break the silence. 

“Alex, please. Are you alright?” you asked, persistent in wanting to care for and help him. You turned on the small lamp on your bedside table, illuminating the bedroom in a faint hue of gold. “Do you need anything? Try to breathe.”

You looked at his trembling frame, seeing the pillow he held clutched tightly to his chest as if it were the only thing keeping him together. His eyes were squeezed shut, his cheeks red from crying as his lower lip wobbled. Alex looked miserable, utterly destroyed. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” you soothed, your hand twitching, wanting to reach out and touch him. 

He always sought out your touch when he was stressed or sad. It made him feel safe, he had told you once, as he melted in your embrace after a client had been particularly rude to him. He melted under your gentle caresses like wax, his eyes fluttering shut as he relaxed completely, warmth encircling him wholly as the world faded from his mind, only the thought of you remaining.

“Can I touch you?”

“Don’t—” Alex’ choked response came immediately, and he sobbed harder. “Don’t look—” his voice broke on the second syllable. 

Your heart ached at seeing him like this, breaking with the knowledge that he did not want your help. “Alright,” you whispered, turning to rest against the headboard. “I’m here if you change your mind. You can— I—” You looked straight ahead, gazing at the picture hanging on the opposite side of the room to honor his wish. 

The picture was of the two of you, making a mess of the kitchen as you baked cookies. Alex had taken it on his phone, complaining about you wanting it on the wall due to the ‘abyssal quality,’ as he put it. You just thought you both looked so happy in it, the comfort in each others’ presence and the affection between you nearly tangible in the way you looked.

“I can always hold you through it if you want. You just have to ask,” you said, blinking away your own tears. Alex did not give any indication that he had heard you, continuing to cry softly against the pillow in his arms. 

“I always sleep with a second pillow,” he had told you once as you lay snuggled together on his bed. “I need something to hold, or else I can’t fall asleep. Well, now I have you” — the smile he gave you at these words was etched into your memory forever; the pure happiness expressed in his eyes, the overwhelming adoration in the twist of his lips — “I don’t think I’ll be needing it anymore.”

The tentative brush of a hand against yours startled you out of your reverie, and you glanced to the side to find Alex’ trembling fingers resting against the back of your hand, as if afraid to touch you properly. 

You contemplated a moment, wondering if you should comment on it. With a soft sigh, you decided to show him instead, and took his hand in yours, tracing circles into the back of it with your thumb. 

His sobs were no longer muffled, and he moved his body until he was facing you, looking at you with bloodshot eyes. “Please,” he croaked, gripping your hand tighter in desperation, his shoulders shaking from the force of his cries. 

Knowing what he needed, you gathered him in your arms, guiding his head to rest against your shoulder and running your fingers through his disheveled hair as your arms wrapped around him. “I’ve got you,” you whispered, his tears drenching the fabric of your nightshirt, “Breathe. It’s alright, Alex. I’m here.”

[beelmons]

Escapade 5

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader Rating: Explicit, readers under 18 are not advised to read this story. Tags: smut, best friends to lovers, possible angst at some point, porn with plot, mentions of weapons, minor OC appeareances for plot purposes, mentions of death for plot purposes, unprotected sex, reader drinks a bit of alcohol. Summary: The case gets stuck, but Spencer is by your side to keep you going. Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 / 3: Bonus | 4 | 5 | 6 A/N: this one doesn't have as much action ifykwim, mostly plot building, but bear with me, lots of action coming. Tag list: @punkndisorderrly @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @amywright

Ever heard the expression ‘do not speak ill of the dead’? One of the most misunderstood sayings in the english language, if you were to say so yourself. Through the many years of working in law enforcement, you had come to realize that all it took for the most heinous, horrendous, and evil crimes to go away in the minds of the people was no other than dying.

The interviews didn’t take you anywhere. Every agent was a god-sent angel in the eyes of their loved ones. No criminal record, no wrong-doings, model citizens if someone were to ask you. No additional disappearances or deaths, either, the UnSub had gone dormant, which meant two things: first, the good news, it indicated the possibility that your friend and the HR clerk were probably still alive. Second, for the bad part, without any more victims, getting new leads would be difficult, and the risk of the case going cold was greater.

—We need to go back to victimology. —Emily pointed out.

—If we go over victimology one more time, I will hand in my resignation. —Morgan answered— we have two bodies, no forensic evidence, no clear M.O. other than the deaths being sloppily staged as a suicide, and the only thing linking these people so far, it’s that they were all part of the same FBI academy class. 

—Okay, what about the profile? —JJ asked.

—We can only have a draft for now, the information we’ve got is not enough. —Rossi responded— We know it’s gotta be someone who is reckless or imbalanced, hence why he got kicked out of the academy, but smart enough to be admitted as a trainee in the first place. He has criminology knowledge, yet that can be easily explained by his time as a trainee. 25 to 35 years old. Underachiever. Narcissistic. Mission oriented…

—So, our average weirdo. —Penelope interrupted him, and Rossi nodded in disappointment.

Everyone’s spirit seemed to be down. Empty containers of chinese food laid on top of the round table mixed with files and gruesome crime scenes pictures. No one was paying attention anymore. Hotch decided to look at the time, it was close to midnight. It had been the third night in a row the team had put in the extra hours, not that it was anything out of the ordinary, but the burn out was evident.

—Alright, everyone, let’s go home. —the boss commanded.

—Hotch, we’re not any closer to finding these men. —the muscular man mentioned.

—We’re not doing ourselves any favors by exhausting our energy. Unfortunately, we won’t have much to go on until…

—Until another victim turns up? —you asked, your tone slightly accusatory.

—I understand it’s hard, but that’s usually how profiling works. —everyone shot you a look at his words, mostly trying to make sure you still felt okay. You simply sighed and shrugged the question off. Aaron kept staring to figure out your emotions, but given the time, and the fact that you were also exhausted, he decided it was better to not profile you— We’ll come in at 10, make sure to rest well, we’ll start fresh tomorrow and, hopefully, we’ll be able to see something new.

The team began to gather their belongings, and one by one gave you a reassuring pat on the back before they exited the building. Hotch and Reid were the only ones left while you were still on your desk, reluctantly putting your stuff in your bag to go home.

—Are you going down? —your boss asked, his briefcase already dangling from his hand, your best friend standing next to him.

—Uh, you can go ahead —you replied— I have to do something, but I’ll be right down. —with that said, you stood up and directed yourself to the bathroom. The two men exchanged puzzled glances and sighed in defeat.

You took your time staring at your own reflection. You looked like hell, gently put. You hadn’t slept much. Mixed feelings and thoughts haunting the possibility of unconsciousness every night since his disappearance. You knew it was their job, but the truth was that your team was working extra-hard to help you through it, and you hadn’t been exactly the most pleasant companion during the investigation. Your hostility towards Hotch was unfunded, his patience with you even more so, and you knew you would have to apologize later.

There was no use beating yourself over it now, but you just couldn’t go and rest while your friend’s body could turn up at any minute. You threw some cold water over your face to scare off the drowsiness and decided to head back to the round table. To your surprise, a familiar shape was already sitting on his usual spot during morning meetings.

—What are you still doing here, Reid? —you asked. His head immediately raised to meet your eyes with a faint smile.

—I knew you would stay behind. Figured you could use some company.

—Well, you could use some sleep.

—I had a very heavy dinner, the kitchen’s coffee pot is filled to the brim with espresso, and if I need a nap, I’ll just take Morgan’s couch. —his talking was fast, not allowing for you to interrupt him at any second, and once he was done, he signaled to the chair next to him which already had an open file before it.

You rolled your eyes at his persistence. However, you knew that deep down you were just trying to deflect the warmth that it spread to your chest, but at last you decided to obey his command. Within seconds, both of your heads were buried in FBI files. You decided to go back to victimology, and after an hour of rolling over it, you had come to the same conclusions as earlier that week. Frustrated, you threw the folder on the table, letting it shut close, and you leaned back on your chair, a loud huff leaving your lips as you stared at the ceiling.

—This was dumb, we’re not getting anywhere. Let’s just call it a night. —you spurted out in disappointment.

—Come on, we can still crack something new. —Spencer said without looking up from the paper he was reading.

—Perhaps these were just victims of opportunity. Nothing about this makes sense. The only person who sticks out is Conrad, and even so, he was just a DC police desk clerk, who would have a problem with him? —you continued to complain, part of it was directed to yourself, still angered that you hadn’t been able to figure it out. After seconds of silence, you realized Spencer hadn’t added anything to the conversation, and so you turned to look at him. To your surprise, he was already intently looking at your expression with pity written on his face, which took you aback— What?

—Nothing. It’s just… —he made a quick pause— I know you’re fond of him, but during the entire investigation you haven’t really mentioned him much.

He was right. You had refrained yourself from saying his name. You figured, maybe, if you held to the same hope the families did, if you kept him frozen in your memories, if you remembered him as your old friend, and not as a victim, he would remain as such, and the next day he would be safe and sound, like he had been years ago. Your brows furrowed and your hands went back to the table.

—You don’t expect doctors to get sick, right? What kind of agent am I if I can’t keep safe the very people I wanted to protect in the first place? —you said, pain vibrating in your voice. 

—Only that doctors do get sick.

—Yeah, I guess you are right. —your tone dropped at his observation, sadness taking over you instead.

—Can I ask you something rather personal? —Reid inquired once he realized the emotions he had stirred. You raised your eyebrows curiously, but nodded in agreement anyways— How come you hadn’t contacted him in so long? I mean, I know this job can get in the way of many things, but not even a phone call?

Yes, Spencer was bad at fixing unfortunate comments. Yet, he wasn’t wrong. There were many reasons to not look back at your old pal, to not seek him after, but just as one shall not speak ill of the dead, you had refused to go over the bad memories that would taint the image you had of him. Nonetheless, there was no fooling Spencer, not only because he was a human lie detector, but because he knew you better than anyone else.

—Have you ever looked back and realized you didn’t really like the person you were? —your elbow propped on the table and your cheek rested on your palm to be looking at Spencer. You watched as he took a quick glance at his forearm, and he cleared his throat before he nodded; reality hit you that he was probably remembering the time he struggled with addiction, and you felt a wave of guilt in you, paired with intense pride. He had overcome it almost by himself, but before you allowed your mind to sink deep into the marvelous being Spencer Reid was, you continued your story. —He guided me through my first days of the academy, I was new to Virginia, everything was scary. He became my best friend, I trusted him, during tactical missions, during exams, he had my back, I had his.

—Then what happened? —he asked once you stopped to gather your breath.

—He was holding me back. —you admitted out loud for the first time in your life, him being the first person you have ever told this to— Gideon was teaching a mental disorders assessment class back then, and I got really into it, and so did Conrad, but I was the one who formed rapport with Jason, a friendship really, and so he would help me outside of class, show me additional techniques and cases, he introduced me to Hotch, all while Conrad was struggling to pass his S.W.A.T certifications.

—We met around that time. —he pointed out, smiling a bit to himself. 

—Right, I was doing research for a class and Gideon showed me around the office, and he ended up introducing us. I met Morgan as well, and Elle was still here. —you smiled as you recalled your first time within these walls— See? I was going places, I was trying to start my career, I really wanted to be hired as a Special Agent, and so did Conrad, no matter what it took. Before the final tactical exam, we had to take the mental disorders assessment test. He was already engaged back then, you know? And I knew he was having problems with his fiancé, he came to me, he said he was feeling depressed, and he wanted to make sure it wouldn’t turn up on his assessment, that it was temporary until things got better. He asked me to make a mock test from him, since I surely had access to the test beforehand.

—Because we, the BAU, were the ones who made the questions. —Spencer mentioned in a sudden realization, and you nodded ashamedly.

—I had already taken mine, and so I told Gideon I wanted to quote it for my research, and he gave me a copy. Conrad took it, I went over his answers, and I taught him what to change in order to pass the evaluation.

—Did you ever tell Gideon?

—No. —you shook your head— I knew him enough to understand he would have ended my career then and there, and if anyone were to find out now, I could have my badge taken away. 

—What were the results? —he asked with genuine curiosity, although disapprovingly shaking his head.

—Lack of social skills, narcissistic tendencies, present sociopathy-related traits. He would have never gotten a badge; he wouldn’t have even been allowed to do the final tactical exam if it weren’t for me.

—You put a lot at risk for him. —he paused as if he was trying to find the right way to phrase his next question— Why?

—He was my partner, I felt like I had a duty to protect him. —you reached over to land a hand on his shoulder— Like I have protected you, and will continue to protect you. 

—Yeah, but I would never ask you to do anything like that. I wouldn’t jeopardize your dreams for my own sake. 

—I know. —you said sincerely— It was stupid and reckless. But it made me realize something important; that it didn’t matter how much I cared for Conrad, he needed me more than I needed him, I was going to be okay on my own. After he got married, I figured, well, he’s someone else’s problem now, you know?

Your latter sentence felt a lot more relaxed, and you said it in a half-heartedly joking manner. You realized, however, that Spencer had stopped paying attention somewhere along the way, his lips were parted open, and he had that dissociated look in his eyes.

—Needed him more…—he mumbled as he reached out for Conrad’s file—That’s it!

—What’s it? —you asked as you watched him stand up away from your reach and toward the board.

—Think about it, you’re an Unsub, if your purpose is to kill, why would you keep someone around?

—Well, —you took a second to rack your brain— if they were the object of my rage, I would torture them first.

—But there’s no record of sadism, in fact, both deaths so far have been rather painless. He hasn’t killed Carlos or Conrad because he needs them to get to the real object of his rage. —he began to speak faster by the second— We know he’s targeting FBI employees that have some connection to his time in the academy, but even administrative clerks have their files protected by the FBI database encryption system, hence why he needs Carlos, he’s a Human Resources clerk at Quantico, he has access to the files, addresses, phone numbers, anything so employees can be localized. However, if his end game is to kill an SSA or a higher rank, their files would be far more complicated to obtain. You need to put in a requisition and it has to be approved by other HR superiors and then accessed with your own password, so he would need to keep Carlos alive until he got the approval. 

—But why would he need Conrad then?

—This is just a theory, but there were no signs of forced entry in any of the victims’ houses, which suggests they either knew the UnSub or he presented as non-threatening. Both murders were late at night and in not exactly the safest areas. Who do you open the door for, without hesitation, in the middle of the night and in the heart of a big metropolitan city?

—The police. —you said with certain disbelief.

—Smith was put on desk duty, but he was hired as a cop, he was never demoted, just moved, which means he gets to keep his badge, and that his badge number is still active. —he pointed at the information on the file— I don’t know how, but I think he’s using officer Smith to have access to the houses, and Carlos to get their locations. 

—There’s one problem, though, how did he get the locations for the first two employees? He didn’t have access to Carlos yet, he was only reported missing after the first two bodies appeared. 

Your observation put Reid back into deep thought, he stared at the timeline drawn on the board again, and suddenly, an idea popped into his head, or so you could notice by the way he fumbled with his phone, quickly dialing a known number. 

—Hi, Garcia?—he began talking into the speaker—Yes, I know it’s 2 am, and I’m very sorry, but I really need you to check something for me. Do you have access to the HR databases from your home computer? —he waited a second for her to respond— I don’t really need anything deep right now, I just want to confirm if Carlos Gonzalez was actively working during the two weeks prior to his disappearance. We might have caught a break, but I want to confirm a theory before I call everyone in again. Okay, contact me back if you have something. —with said words, he hung up the phone and turned to look at you. 

—You’re thinking Carlos disappeared way before he was reported missing, aren’t you? —you inquired as you watched him move some things up on the board

—If I’m right, it means he’s had Carlos help him all along. 

—As hostage or partner? —you asked him, but he simply shook his head, unsure of what the real answer was. He fell quiet, and his hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt, it was obvious he was nervous about something. Your eyebrows raised questioningly, it would be so much easier if he just spoke up his mind whenever he got a new thought— What now? 

—It would also confirm that you’re part of the suspect pool. 

—Well, if he has my file, he’ll know that I was the best tactical in my class, so good luck. —your eyes had traveled back to the board, your arms crossed over your chest as you examined the evidence hung from it. Out of the corner of your eye, you were able to spot Spencer dropping his head, and you turned to confirm he was alright; instead, you heard him sniffle. Panic took over you, and you reached closer to cup his face with your hands, forcing him to look at you. —Hey, hey, what’s going on? 

—I just… —he started, struggling to find the right words— Garcia has been shot, Foyet got to Haley, Gideon couldn’t stop Frank, —he made a small pause to swallow a particularly thick knot on his throat— and doctors can get sick. 

—Nothing’s gonna happen to me, Spencer. You hear me? —you said resolutely. You didn’t realize when, but his arms had wrapped around your middle, and slowly your arms began to circle the area of his neck. —You’re not getting rid of me that easily. 

He still seemed unable to speak. His head simply leaned forward, forehead falling on yours. His eyes fluttered closed, and you allowed yourself to do so as well. After seconds of complete silence, an eternal moment of enjoying each other’s presence, you felt his hands explore further up, he caressed up your clothed back until one of them finally reached your hair. His fingers tangled on your locks and he finally pushed your head toward him, letting his lips fall on yours in a deep kiss. 

This one was different from the ones you had shared before during sex, it was deep, but slow, your lips moved so gently because his were also taking their time. He was savoring you, and you could tell. Your breaths were loud, every so often gasping for air, mouths unable, and unwilling, to pull apart. The ringing of his phone reminded you briefly of where you were and who was kissing you, but firm hands against your cheeks kept your head in place before you could pull away. He had the utter intention to ignore it, but right before the last tone rang he seemed to remember that he was, indeed, waiting for a call. 

—It’s Garcia. —he mumbled against your lips as he pulled away and rushed to get the device from the table, hitting the speaker button right away— Hey, Penelope, you are on speaker. 

—For a second I thought you weren’t going to pick up, and I swear to God, Reid, if you had woken me up from my beauty slumber, in which Ricky Martin was swearing eternal devotion to me, solely so you could fall asleep right away, the punishment I’d have landed upon you would have made those medieval torture instruments documentaries, that you like so much, look like the hairspray movie, and yes, I do mean the one with John Travolta. —Spencer and you exchanged horrified glances, unable to form a sentence to answer her— Anyways, I can’t access the files from my house network, I’d have to come into the office to connect through LAN to get them without being flagged as a national threat, again. But catch this, your boy Carlos bought a complete package deal on GayEuropeanTours.com, and I mean the whole package, Madrid, Milan, Paris, Berlin, Amsterdam, Brussels, like the party capitals. His plane was supposed to arrive in Barcelona one week before the first murder and the entire tour was supposed to last about three weeks. 

—Is there any way to confirm that he wasn’t on that plane? —you asked on the phone. 

—I can’t have access to airline databases from here, this info I got from a facebook post he made two months ago. However, check this out, no one would pay so much money for a trip without posting pictures to brag a bit, right? His instagram has quite the few of them on it. 

—So he did go on the trip. —Reid muttered disappointed. 

—Tonight we finally have proof of who’s the smartest blond in the office, my dear braniac. —Penelope bragged, and Spencer furrowed his brows in confusion— Social media can say a lot about a person, Reid, Carlos would often post pictures of himself, his outfits, selfies, he was all about that self-love, but the europe ones include only food and places, beautiful architecture by the way, yet his face nowhere to be seen, I reverse-searched some of them and found out they were taken off the internet; and it doesn’t end there, I also looked at the metadata of the pictures, they were all posted at the same time, one per day, and through what seems to be an automated third party service to schedule posts. 

—Can we get a location? —he asked 

—My tracking software is at the office, but I’m packing my things as we speak. 

—Penelope, call Morgan and Prentiss, Spencer get Hotch and brief him on what we deduced so far, I’ll get JJ and Rossi, if we can track a location tonight, we might still be able to find Conrad alive. —you ordered the two of them and heard the line go dead at the end of your sentence. 

Spencer hurried to get his phone to dial Hotch’s number as fast as he could, and you stuck to your own orders, getting Rossi on the line almost right away. It felt good, the hope invading your body once again, it beamed, it felt warm and cold at the same time. There was a chance, a chance to save him. A chance for things to go back to what they were.

—Hotch? Listen, we figured out something important, we need everyone back as soon as- —you heard him stop mid-sentence while you waited for the call to connect to Jennifer’s number, but before you heard her voice, Spencer turned in your direction, his voice sounding concerned and surprised— What?

—What is it? — you rushed to ask, his concern quickly rubbing on you. 

—They just found another body that might be connected to our unsub. 

—But we never got a missing person’s report. —you pointed out with disbelief. 

Spencer’s saddened eyes gave you the answer you were avoiding to find. No one else had been reported, so the body could belong to any of the two current missing people. Either Carlos Gonzalez, or Conrad Smith. 

[whitexwolfxx310]

Big Bad (White) Wolf, What Big Eyes You Have (1/2)

What Big Eyes You Have 1/2

Pairing: Bucky x female reader // Bucky x y/n

Summary: You get invited to a masquerade ball at The Compound. Everyone is going but you hesitate, since it is the same night as your brother's one year death anniversary. Surprisingly, Bucky is the one to convince you to go.

Warnings: Y/N, No minor interactions, language, some crude humor.

Words: 3.8k

Previous Part

Masterlist

A/N: In this fic I decided to have some fun and enjoy the characters. I'm not trying to tie in so much of the deaths, at least not in this piece.

Sessions with Bucky have been going better since the reverse spotlight and room check. Maybe it's your common love for the author J.R.R. Tolkien, friendly kittens, or being welcomed into his own personal space, but the conversations have been more easily flowing between the two of you. As promised, you dedicated a lot of thought and time into a perfect list to give Bucky. It is finally some common ground for you two to connect on a more personal level.

Sitting with your elbows on your desk, chin resting on top of your hands, you find yourself enjoying the small talk and conversations with Bucky. And in retrospect, he seemed to be relishing in them as well. What once was dead silence in the room, is now filled with stories, jokes, and still working towards the end goal of making him feel well adjusted into society as it is today.

"Wait...wait" You pause, laughing between words. "You're telling me that you didn't like the Twilight series?! It's a staple to this generation!" Your cheeks are burning from the amount of laughing from this conversation.

"I don't know, the teenage sparkly vampires just didn't appeal to me!" Bucky says, also laughing.

"Okay so did you at least give both the books and the movies a try?"

"I did! Sorry to break it to you, Y/N but I just couldn't...The Hunger Games though? I'm totally Team Katniss." Bucky is trying so hard to keep a straight face but is failing miserably. The fact that you're also trying to keep a straight face makes you both burst into thunderous laughter. Once you're able to breathe without feeling like your lungs are going to combust, you remember that you have something for Bucky.

"Oh! Before I forget..." You reach into the top desk drawer and pull out a white box. You make your way over to the couch and sit down next to him. Bucky's entire body stiffens, indicating he is uncomfortable with how close you are. Shifting a little further down the couch to put a little more distance between you two. "I got you this. Well, I picked it out but put it on the company card." You let out a small giggle as you hand him the box. Bucky opens the box to reveal an iPhone. Confused at the gesture he looks over at you.

"Am I supposed to know what this is...?"

"I saw that poor excuse of a flip phone that you have been using. Look it's completely set up; apps downloaded, contacts already added, the internet fully at your disposal, and pictures/videos instantly, in real time. The only thing you have to do is set up the facial recognition so that you are the only one able to access it. It gives you some small amount of privacy." You hold out your hand for the box "Here, I'll show you." Bucky hands the phone back watching and taking in how to turn it on, etc. You go into depth about texting with the small 'type writer' on the screen, making receiving phone calls/FaceTime, how to look up cat videos on YouTube and getting e-mails. Giving the phone back to Bucky, all that's left to do is set up the facial recognition, which you walk him through.

"I'm probably going to have a million questions about this thing...But thank you." He says, still seeming unsure.

"That's what I'm here for. You're welcome, Bucky." You smile warmly. Before letting the moment linger for too long, you go back behind the desk to sit down, respecting Bucky's need to feel comfortable in this place. To make him feel safe.

"So..." Bucky starts, "Are you going to Stark's masquerade ball?"

The image of the extravagant black and gold invitation appears in your mind.

"Um...I'm not too sure. Are you?" You ask curiously.

"Parties aren't really for me." He says with an undertone of sadness. "Too many people." He shrugs.

"That's understandable." You say in agreement. "Although it would give you the opportunity to spend time with your friends and co-workers outside of working a mission together."

"And I could say, it would give you the opportunity to interact with everyone else aside from just me." Bucky says in hindsight.

"Well, if I'm honest..." You start, accepting the fact that in order to maintain the progress you have made with James, you're going to have to be straightforward. "The ball is on the same day that Luke passed away and I don't think I'd want to go. It's only been a year."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "What's the alternative? Sitting in bed watching sad movies with a box of tissues feeling sorry for yourself?" He says, in a matter of fact tone.

Your eyes widen at his bluntness. "Well when you put it like that..." A small chuckle escapes from your mouth. "I just- I don't know."

"What if-" Bucky takes a deep breath, holding it in. "What if we go together?" Your head turns sideways at the suggestion. "No-Not like a date or anything. I just meant for...support." He's still holding his breath awaiting your answer.

This could be good, for both of you. Encouraging each other to have more social interactions instead of just staying locked up in our rooms.

You narrow your eyes at him, enjoying making him squirm on the couch for your answer. "Deal." The word wasn't fully even out before he breathed a sigh of relief.

Standing in front of the full length mirror in your parents guest room, you smooth the sides down of your glitter gold dress.

I look ridiculous.

You roll your eyes, turning side to side in the mirror trying to accept the mandatory gold and black color scheme for the party. The dress is floor length with a slit up the left side. It has thin straps, but isn't low cut.

Elegant but conservative. Dress to impress.

"Fake it 'till you make it." You say to yourself in the mirror and sigh. You sit down on the edge of the bed, putting a pair of matching gold heels on so you don't trip on the length of the dress. Which is still most likely going to happen anyway. You stand back up, looking at yourself in the mirror again, this time starting to feel self conscious. Trying to take a deep breath, the tightness of the dress stops you from being able to take the deep breath that you desperately need. You shake your hands out and bounce on the balls of your feet anxiously. You got this...You got this! You think, trying to encourage yourself. Leaning in, you run your hands through your long brown hair to blend the curls. You check the light smokey eye make up on your eyes, accented with golden glitter eyeshadow. Turning to the side table next to the bed, you pick up your black eye masquerade mask. Facing the mirror again, you gently tie the black ribbon around your head and adjust the mask in the mirror. It's simple yet beautiful. It's a venetian styled mask, matte black underneath and accented with black glitter in the swirled design. Black lace rim's the entire mask.

Deep breath.

*Ding* Your phone alerts you that there is a car waiting outside to take you to the ball. (Courtesy of Tony). You believed that the job was special enough. It gave you a purpose again. A reason to look forward to each and every day. But the perks make you feel like an entirely different person, living a life you never dreamed of.

The adrenaline is flowing through you, causing your legs to uncontrollably shake. The drive to The Compound feels like it's taking twice as long as it normally does. You keep checking your phone, looking for any sort of distraction. Instead, the date glows from the screen almost as if it is begging for you to remember what today is.

It's officially one year. I could really use a drink. Or two. And they should be doubles. Definitely doubles.

The Compound looks completely different. So much so that you barely recognized it as the car pulled up to the front. Especially since you were lost to your own thoughts. Yellow spotlights light the front entrance of the building as other lights moved back and forth as if you were at a Hollywood movie premier. Shockingly though, you don't hear anything. You would expect to hear loud music, people laughing, mingling, the drinks making people let loose.

"Thank you" You say shyly to the driver as you step out of the car. The structure looks more intimidating than usual. You take your time walking into the building in fear of not only falling, but also hesitating and not feeling ready.

You told Bucky you would be here. Don't let him down.

As the doors open, you're hit with all of the sounds that you expected to hear walking in. It's sound proof. You're met with a server holding a round tray with numerous glasses filled. "Champagne?" She asks sweetly. "Oh god. Yes please!" You take one glass off of the tray, emptying the glass in one mouthful. "Mm!" You say swallowing through the bubbles trying to get the servers attention. She stops and you take another glass. "Thank you." She smiles and moves onto other guests.

Walking into the party is exactly what you would expect from Tony Stark. A DJ, multiple bars set with top shelf liquor, women dancers, VIP for certain tabloids, photobooths, you name it, it was here. The large banquet room was flooding with black and gold everywhere. The contrast of the black and gold really came together as if it were a dream. The stunning black (and gold) attire and the most beautiful masquerade masks that filled the room. From the tables and place settings to the chandeliers, decorative flower arrangements. Wow...

The scenery isn't the only thing catching your attention. This room is filled with so many different heroes from all different parts of, not only the world, but the galaxy as well. Standing on the outskirts of the party, you look around at all of the guests.

Quill and Mantis are arguing with the DJ, insisting he play the Footloose soundtrack.

Thor and Loki are laughing and drinking out of a shared rhyton. (Fancy word for a drinking horn).

Wong is using his sling ring to open tiny portals next to the girls handing out the horderves, taking what's most appealing before anyone else.

Natasha is with her best friend, Clint and also Bruce. They're making small talk with one another.

Wanda and Vision are holding onto each other lovingly and swaying on the dance floor looking at each other like they're the only two people in the room.

Steve walks past you and greets Nick Fury with a giant cheesy smile.

Everywhere you look there is another amazing sight to take in. But you find yourself looking for one specific person. You start to walk through the crowd, trying to get higher on your toes to look around people. Yeah, like that's going to work for someone who is 5'3. Finally, making your way to the darkest corner in the hall, you spot Bucky leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, talking with Sam and Rocket.

You timidly walk over, grasping onto your clutch and give a small hand wave. "Hey guys..."

"Hey Y/N!" Sam takes a step away from the wall, giving you a polite hug. "You look great, considering you spend all day with this guy!" Sam laughs as he points to Bucky next to him.

"Thank you." You respond, laughing. Turning to look at Bucky, you push a small strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling nervous. "Hey Bucky..."

"Hey." He says stoically while giving you a nod. Bucky doesn't move from his place on the wall, arms still remaining crossed. The thought of him not embracing you in a similar way that Sam did pains you.

"So uh... is anyone going to tell me who this broad is?" Rocket looks up, looking between Sam, Bucky, you, and back across all of you again.

Sam chuckles "Rocket, this is the new girl, Y/N. Her job is to babysit Barnes." Your cheeks blush as you break away from any kind of eye contact within the conversation circle.

Bucky has an annoyed look on his face and to make matters worse, Rocket jumps and climbs up Bucky's metal arm, sitting on top of his left shoulder. "Aww...I didn't know little Buck needed to be babysat. Is the pay good? Maybe I need switch jobs!" Rocket taunts, and him and Sam erupt in laughter. Bucky clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes.

"I'm uh..." You look down at the full champagne glass in your hand. "I'm going to get a drink." You quickly spin on your heels and start through the crowd to the nearest bar.

"I'll come with you." Bucky says without hesitation. He rolls his left shoulder to knock Rocket off and follows you through the crowd. You stand at the bar, waiting patiently for the bartender to notice you. Sighing, you down your second glass of champagne. You place the glass down on the bar and turn to the left to look for Bucky behind you.

Where did he go? He was just here-

"Oh my God!" You jump, startled at Bucky leaning on the bar, but on the right side. He shakes his head, laughing. "I mean, I prefer Bucky but that works too."

You cup your own face with your hands in embarrassment that this has happened yet again. Quick. Change the subject.

"So...What can I get you to drink?" You ask, putting your hands down and avoiding the awkward situation you find yourself in with Bucky...again.

He smirks, looking at the drink choices and then back at you. "You know I can't get drunk, right?"

"Doesn't make it taste any different! Come on, for old times sake." You turn to face him and make direct eye contact. You narrow your eyes and make a face implying that your thinking intensely. "Hmm... I take you for a whiskey guy."

"Good guess." Bucky replies with a small side smile. You return the smile as your gaze drifts down from his blue eyes to his outfit. Bucky didn't go for the gold. Shocker. He is dressed in an all matte black suit with black leather on the collar and lapel, black undershirt, black leather gloves, black pants and black dress shoes. Black, black, black. Has he heard the news that other colors exist or...?

Looking back up your eyes meet once again. "You clean up pretty nice." You compliment. Bucky takes in a sharp breath, he opens his mouth to say something but as luck would have it, that's when the bartender picks to service you next.

"Hi! What can I get y'all to drink for tonight?" Says the bubbly pretty blonde behind the counter who only has eyes for James.

"Yeah...hi." You wave to try and get her attention. She reluctantly looks at you, eyebrows raised and doesn't say another word. "Can we get a double of your best whiskey, neat? And also a vodka soda with extra limes? Thank you! Actually, can you make that two vodka sodas? Thanks!" The overly enthusiastic blonde turns around to get started on the drinks.

Bucky tilts his head and raises his eyebrows "Trying to have a good time tonight?" He lets out a small chuckle. The music suddenly got a bit louder, making you wince. You try to respond but Bucky looks at you in confusion, motioning to his ears. "What?!" He says loudly. Sighing, you lean in and, to your amazement, Bucky does the same. "I'm not trying to have a good night, I'm trying to forget this day entirely!" You say into his ear. He pulls back to look at you, noticing the evident grief on your face. Bucky nods slightly in understanding.

Just then the peppy blonde is back with the three drinks, placing them specifically on the counter in front of James. "Can I get you anything else?" She asks him promptly, ready to service him in whatever way he needs. Blech. You try hard not to imitate throwing up. "No. We're good here, thanks Doll." He says, not looking away from you and making it clear that she was dismissed. Doll? He's using pet names now? Why do I sound jealous?

Bucky hands you your drink and holds his up. "Cheers... To Luke." He says, clinking the two glasses. "To Luke." You repeat. He only takes a sip of his, but when he finishes he brings the glass back down to notice that half of yours is gone already. Bucky reaches for your other drink, sliding it closer to you on the bar. "Thank you" you mouth to him.

After finishing the second drink, the night starts becoming a blur of colors and beautiful masks. The social anxiety is gone and you're able to talk to anyone and everyone. The music has everyone dancing. Well, almost everyone. Bucky retreated to his corner to watch everything from the sidelines. Meanwhile, you're dancing with the other ladies having a great time. Even Sam barges into the dance circle to belt out Whitney Houston's 'I Wanna Dance With Somebody'.

Although you're having fun, more fun than you would like to admit, your eyes keep drifting to that dark corner. The music is lively and Bucky still looks like he's in Winter Soldier mode.

We promised. I have to do something...But what?

You break away from the dance floor, grabbing another drink of yours off of the table that you had previously left behind. Walking up to the DJ booth, you lightly shove Peter. "No one gives a shit about Kevin Bacon OR Footloose!" The instant look of disgust on Quills face was comical. "No one asked you, new girl!" Drax started laughing and we all joined in.

Slipping away, you get the DJs attention. "Hey! Do you take requests?" Not even having to wait two songs, the music went from being upbeat and lively to a sudden slow song. The 'party animals' of the group groaned and walked off of the dance floor while all the couples (Tony and Pepper, Peter and MJ, Thor and Jane, Vision and Wanda, etc.) seized the moment.

Unforgettable by Nat King Cole was now playing. You step to the side of the dance floor, swaying with the music and watching the couples. It looks so....nice. Sigh.

While he wasn't in your direct line of sight, Bucky was in your peripheral vision. T'Challa leaned in towards him, saying something only the two of them could hear. He pulls back smiling and shaking his head no. Sam jumps into the conversation and elbows him in the stomach in what seems to be an encouraging way. Both T'Challa and Sam push Bucky forward, all of them laughing together. "Alright...Alright I said!"

You turn your full attention back onto the dance floor. The guys were probably teasing him to go ask the bubbly blonde for a dance. Or to go upstairs. You shudder at the thought. Finishing the last sip of your drink, you turn to place it down on the closest table when instead you turn right into someone else.

"Oh gosh I'm so sor-....Bucky?" The surprise in your voice wasn't hidden at all. You're met with intense eyes and a tight jawline but he doesn't say anything. "Bucky? Are you okay?" You asked, concerned.

"May I...?" He gestures towards the dance floor. You guessed that the look on your face somehow came across as scared because he immediately stepped back. "Or not. It's fine."

**This one is getting kind of long, I'm going to make it a two parter! To be continued!!**

Part Two

[victorluvsalice]

AU Thursday: Smiler’s Otherland -- Domains!

Hi everyone, I’m back on my Smiler’s Otherland bullshit! :D After making my initial “here’s my first ideas on the concept” post back in May 2023, I’ve been trying to get my thoughts organized regarding what Smiler’s Otherland should look like, more details about their weapons, how many outfits they need, etc. And now I’m going to share some of those thoughts with all of you! Because it’s my tumblr and you’re my captive audience. :p

So -- let’s start with the domains! Because you can’t have an Otherland without actual, you know, lands in it. So far, I’ve come up with four domains for Smiler:

Smile Street: The “hub” domain, or at least the domain any visitors would be likely to land in first, much like Alice’s Vale of Tears or Victor’s Living Dead Forest. This domain is arguably the "coziest," and allows Smiler to put their best smiling face forward. :D

-->As indicated by the name, it’s a long winding street lined with brightly-painted houses in all colors of the rainbow -- in fact, here, the shot of Towers Street from this The Smiler ad gives you a good idea of what I’m picturing:

Only, instead of just those spiraling yellow clouds in the sky, there's also a big yellow sun featuring a Smiler-logo face on it, as per this screenshot from this video on The Smiler mobile game: (WARNING -- the linked video does have flashing lights/strobe-like images starting about midway through!)

...maybe a little less overtly creepy, as this is supposed to be the friendliest domain, but you get what I mean.

-->And who lives in those cheery little houses? Why, the Advocates, of course! Who are based on these guys from The Smiler mobile game (screenshot from the same video linked above):

You know, just a little higher resolution. XD They're naturally very friendly, greeting visitors enthusiastically, and spend most of their time wandering around, trimming trees and hedges into spirals, having little get-togethers in each other's yards where they tell jokes and laugh a lot, playing various games with each other, painting big grinning faces on portable easels -- that sort of thing.

-->At the end of the street is -- well, the town SPIRAL rather than square, as the road just spirals in on itself until it stops at a big fountain full of glowy yellow liquid at the center. Around the outer curve of the spiral is a little cafe (which serves a variety of drinks and treats, though many of the drinks glow at least slightly, and the treats tend to have spiral decorations), a playground (with all the equipment painted with yellow and black stripes with occasional touches of purple and white), a general shop selling a variety of goods (which, yes, would basically be the shop from the Smiler Shop TV video, manned by Matt and Carol -- Smiler can put their parents into their Otherland, as a treat), and a train station consisting of a bright yellow covered platform with spiraling columns holding the roof up, a Smiler coaster car (like that seen above) for the "train," and tracks that start out flat but quickly spiral off into wild loops and twists (because, of course, the coaster itself has to serve as transport to the other two "nice" domains). Just a nice place to hang out, chat, and watch the spiral clouds swirl overhead. XD

X-Sector: Named after the section of Alton Towers that The Smiler coaster is actually in, this is the domain dedicated to Smiler’s interest in technology and chemistry (with the actual look of the tech ranging from more steampunky to more cyberpunky depending on the time period of the AU it features in).

-->The domain consists mostly of a big old lab, surrounded by a yard featuring grass made out of green wire, flowers made out of twisty bits of metal with stained glass leaves and petals, and simple conical trees (like the kind you might see in an old Playstation or XBox game before graphics really started taking off -- that Smiler Game screenshot above is roughly the right aesthetic). The sky here would be filled with swirling, spiraling yellow and black clouds, lit with the occasional flash of lightning. It's all very dramatic.

-->The lab itself is divided into two wings, separated by a main hall with lots of optical illusions a la the actual The Smiler station (with various changing patterns on the walls -- be warned, that linked video has a fair amount of flashing lights in it!). The left wing would be devoted to engineering and be filled with things like whirring little hypno-wheel gadgets, boxes with flashing lights, various skittering tiny robots, and other things of that nature. The right wing would be devoted to chemistry and have various workstations covered with bubbling flasks of liquid and hissing tanks filled with volatile gases -- though I'm really tempted to throw in a little bit of Willy Wonka flavor and have a big old waterfall of Joy Serum somewhere in here too. XD I mean, it feels like something Smiler would have -- maybe it flows into a giant pipe to provide the liquid for the fountain in Smile Street? Or perhaps it just serves as the "drinking water" for everyone there...

-->As for residents -- well, I suppose in addition to Advocates in lab coats tending all the various experiments, it would make sense to have Dr. Gladwell from the Smiler Takeover "Fear Test" show at the very least. After all, he is the Ministry's Chief Neurological Cortex Reprogrammer! :p The only thing complicating that is that I wanted to name Smiler's outfit for this area after him...but I suppose I could name it after his role in the Ministry instead... Anyway, the most notable resident here would naturally be the Marmaliser itself -- a big robot wandering around on its five limbs, looking for unhappy people to make happy and coming by the lab to have its Inoculator syringes and Giggler gas tanks refilled and its Tickler brushes, Flasher bulbs, and Hypnotiser wheels looked at and realigned as necessary.

Musical Mayhem: Hey, Victor wasn’t using the name :p This domain is all about Smiler's love of music and festivals and things of that nature, and -- as you might expect -- is strongly based around that whole The Smiler Takeover that Alton Towers did for the ride's 10th anniversary.

-->The domain itself is a giant fairground set in a field of glittery green grass under more of those yellow spiraling clouds, with a couple of black-and-white-cobbled looping paths winding through it. There are various carnival games scattered about (like the "Beat the Buzzer" game where you have to get a wire loop around a metal simplified Smiler logo without touching it, otherwise it'll buzz and you'll have to start again; hook-a-smiling-duck; bag tosses with grinning Smiler-logoed bags; one of those water gun games where you shoot Joy Serum at a target to make something rise up; etc), along with food stalls, comfy sitting areas, and carts where people can get balloons and little sparklers and trumpets to blow. As you might imagine, it's chaotic, but in a good way!

-->The dominant feature of the fairground, though, is a huge stage at the far end -- a bigger version of the Takeover's Celebration Stage, with all the smiley-face decorations but yellow curtains instead of red. There's a few rows of seats in front of the stage for people who want to sit down and watch, and designated "dancing spots" for those who want to dance and sing along. The dancing spots are generally more populated than the seats, as you might expect. XD

-->Again, the domain is mostly populated by Advocates from Smile Street, just enjoying the carnival -- but you can't have a Celebration Stage without Felix E. Lated as the star performer! :D (Again, Smiler can have their uncle in their Otherland, as a treat.) When he's not up on stage singing, he's wandering the fairground, encouraging everyone to let loose and have fun. Possibly Grin-Grin the clown (from the above-linked "Fear Test") also makes an appearance from time to time, creating balloon animals and telling ridiculous stories -- oh, and we probably should also have the contortionist and the magician from the "Meet The Ministry" stage show up too! All the performers for the Advocates to enjoy!

Sanctuary: Unfortunately for Smiler, as stated in the original post, we can’t neglect the spookier, scarier parts of the coaster’s theming -- and that means having a domain where everything is creepy and horrible, to represent their fears about going too far and actually harming people. And thus we have Sanctuary, inspired by all the Kelman-related materials, such as the Smile Always series and the Sanctuary scare mazes (a few clips of which can be seen in this informative video -- again, watch out for some flashing lights)! Hooray! :D

-->The area is a large, underground asylum, accessed by a pair of rusty metal swinging doors spray-painted with "THE TRUTH" in bright yellow (taken from one of the AR spots you could access with The Smiler Mobile Game back in the day -- there's a set hidden away in each of the other three domains) -- once inside, you're confronted with an absolute maze of concrete corridors, all painted a faded white. The place is not in good repair, with plenty of patches of exposed rebar and wiring on the walls and cracks in both the ceiling and the floor. The whole place is poorly lit, with buzzing yellow lights dangling from the ceiling and occasionally sparking or going out entirely. The only concession to color is in the various posters that have been hung up -- images of spirals with DO NOT RESIST written under them, photos of decaying animal corpses captioned with LIFE IS BAD, and various images of people with their mouths distorted into extremely creepy smiles. It's just a very unpleasant place to be!

-->There are two groups of people that live in this horrible location -- the first being the Corrected. These are the asylum's patients, dressed in tattered and dirty white t-shirts, pants, and dresses, who roam the halls and live in the various cells dotting the hallways. Most of them either have Glasgow smiles or various bits of machinery forcing their mouths into grins, and many also have at least a partially-shaved head and nasty scars on their scalps indicating brain surgery. However, the Corrected are all completely non-violent, either just wandering around doing their thing (vaguely giggling to themselves, drawing on the walls with whatever they can find, standing in small groups and laughing together) or hiding away from anyone they think is a threat.

-->No, the actual enemies of this area are the Staff -- the nurses and orderlies who run the place. The nurses are dressed in stained white uniform dresses, sporting dark circles around their eyes, vicious grins accented by dark lipstick, and long claw-like nails ready to take a swipe out of misbehaving patients; and the orderlies are dressed in similarly-stained yellowed scrubs, with the same dark circles around their eyes and vicious grins. The nurses carry syringes to stab unsuspecting victims, subjecting them to a variety of bizarre hallucinations; the orderlies carry shock batons guaranteed to bring patients to their knees. Their favorite activities are to stalk unwitting Corrected, then take them down while laughing hysterically. Not nice people at all!

-->And the person in charge of the whole shebang? Why, that would be Dr. Minister, a Kelman-like old man with a neat white suit sporting the Sanctuary logo, glinting glasses, and a smile that -- well, it's obvious the man's HEARD of smiling, but you're not sure he's ever seen it in action. He's insistent that everything he does for the Corrected is for their own good, and his ultimate goal is to turn Smiler into his apprentice/successor -- and Victor and Alice into Corrected. Smiler, as you might imagine, loathes this guy, and is absolutely terrified of ending up like him. :(

And that's everything I've got for now! It does make me slightly annoyed that I only have four domains for Smiler when Victor has five and Alice -- well, as per A:MR, the minimum is eight (presuming you don't count the Vale of Doom as separate from the Vale of Tears). But I do think that these four cover pretty much everything important when it comes to the coaster, it's themes, and all the events and attractions related to it. Next up, we have the weapons -- which, believe me, was a much easier post to make...

[strawberrysodaslut]

Amnesia - Tenth Doctor x Reader

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

[ masterlist ] [ 30 day challenge ]

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

word count: 918

warnings: attacks, memory loss (obviously), angst with indications of a happy ending (open ended i guess)

summary: the Doctor believed he had once again saved you from harm, only to learn his sworn enemies had taken away all memories of him, the tardis and your times together

a/n: day 2 of my writing challenge, i lowkey hate this so much, i really like the beginning though

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

The Doctor honestly didn’t know what to expect, surely you must be dead. The Daleks wouldn’t keep you alive, right?

That didn’t stop the Doctor from trying everything he could to save you, his heart ached as he ran through the streets of London to get to the Tardis. Ready to give everything to the Daleks to keep you safe.

He was shaking as he sent the Tardis on route to the Dalek ship, the reality of what he was most likely going to find setting in.

He could picture it in his head, your body lying on the floor, the memory of him screaming at the Daleks to leave you alone still fresh in your cold, empty eyes.

The Tardis was parked, he raised the barrier and exited his trusted ship. He had materialised in an empty room, so he quickly tried to get any bearings of where in the ship he was.

That’s when he heard it, the sound of your heart wrenching, blood curdling scream. He ran as fast as his legs could go, screaming your name, that he was coming, he was there to save you.

Your screams slowly died down, coming to a complete stop as the Doctor reached your body. To his surprise, you were alive, and alone. The sound of Dalek voices heading away from where he held you.

Why would they leave you alive? Surely the Dalek’s heard him yell after her. He didn’t waste time trying to get the answers to his question, instead picking you up and taking you to your room in the Tardis.

Once you were tucked into your bed, he went to check the scanners. The Daleks had completely left, not a trace of their Ship anywhere. He cursed himself for letting them get away once again, trying to turn his attention to the fact that you were safe, they didn’t hurt you.

After a couple of hours, the Doctor heard you call out. Smiling, he ran to greet you in a warm embrace. But shivers ran down his spine as he didn’t feel you hug him back, instead push him off of you.

“Where am I?” You ask, a look of terror clouding your eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

His heart dropped, “It’s me, the Doctor…” he tried to step towards you, but you stepped back, raising your hand to stop him getting closer.

“Am I in hospital? What happened?” You asked, looking around the almost steampunk looking hallway, “Why isn’t there anyone else here?”

Tears flooded the Doctors eyes, you don’t remember anything. They- they must’ve stolen your memories.

“I need you to listen to me, you’re safe, I need you to go back to the bed you were in, I’ll have you home in no time” He said, cautiously walking close to you, putting his hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head, none of this made sense. Who was this man? You pushed past him, entering the control room you saw him enter from.

You saw the blue door with the small windows, that’s an exit if you’ve ever seen one. You run towards the door, ignoring the weird doctor’s shouts for you to stop.

The sight behind the door is one you’d seen before, but you didn’t know that. Looking out into the darkness of the Galaxy, staring at the Earth and the Moon as if you were looking at a house from a airplane.

You turn to the Doctor, “What the hell is going on?” Your eyes are filling with tears, while body shaking. It feels like a chunk of you is missing.

The doctor approaches you, “You’re on a space ship- my space ship. There was an attack, the Dal- aliens uh- bad aliens. They took your memories away.”

If you hadn’t seen the outside of the spaceship- god that’s a weird thing to say- you wouldn’t have believed him. You almost didn’t believe him knowing where you are.

You swallow a lump in your throat, “So… what am I doing here?”

The Doctor walks over to you, taking off his trenchcoat to wrap it around your shoulders. “You travel with me, this ship- its also a time machine. We would travel though space and time, normally running into trouble. I’m so sorry, I never thought something like this would happen.” He pushes your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

Tears fall down your cheeks, you still don’t know how much time you lost- but hearing what you’ve done with this man. You can’t believe you don’t remember any of it.

“Will you- can my memories come back?” You asked, looking into his eyes.

No matter how calm he tries to portray himself as, you can see how distraught he is in his eyes. Whoever you were to him, you must’ve been very special.

He takes a staggered breath, “I don’t know. I could try, do you want them back?”

You didn’t know the answer to that question. One one hand, the idea of you having lost these huge things- scared you like crazy. What if you weren’t the same person you are now?

But you desperately wanted to know if what he was saying was true, and more than that, what he was keeping from you.

“Yes.” You replied, the tears finally coming to a stop.

The Doctor’s eyes seemed to light up at this, walking around the circular control panel, pressing all sorts of buttons and pulling leavers.

“Let’s go then.”

[seijorhi]

Fracture

i apologise in advance.

Miya Osamu x female reader

TW non-con, dub-con, psuedo-infidelity, referenced character death, angst, drunk reader, gaslighting, age gap, the slightest hint of nsfw

‘Yer still coming home for summer, right?’

How many weeks had your sister spent lovingly bullying you into coming down? How many hours had you spent listening to her gush over the phone about how excited she was?

And until about three months ago, you’d been excited too. 

Despite the ten or so years between the two of you, there was nobody on earth you loved more than your sister. When you were sixteen years old and your parents passed away in a car accident, she was the one who stepped up to take care of you, putting a roof over your head, making sure you ate, slept and kept up your grades, balancing two jobs to do it. 

And she grumbled and you fought, but she’s the only reason you managed to keep it all together enough to graduate high school, and when it came time for you to leave home for university, she was the one blinking back tears and loudly complaining about you ‘abandoning your poor older sister in her time of need’.

As if she hadn’t sat with you for hours, pouring over your options and gently nudging you in the direction of Tokyo. 

“It’s just a few hours away,” you’d told her. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

There was truth to that. The first six months of uni, you came home every other weekend arms full of expensive textbooks and mountains of assignments to write, but then she met Osamu.

You’ve never seen anybody fall so hopelessly in love as quickly as she had. Miya Osamu may as well have hung the damn moon in the sky for how your sister looked at him. And you suppose you can’t really blame her; he was stupidly tall, broad shouldered and handsome. Even back then his restaurant was a wild success, the man was talented and clearly knew how to cook. Nice was the wrong word to describe him, but Miya Osamu was good, and so long as he made your sister happy, that was enough for you.

And it wasn’t like he was the one to drive you away. 

Osamu liked you – he let you camp out in his restaurant and work on your assignments when you desperately needed a change of scenery, stopping to humour you with conversation if it was quiet. He made you laugh, he was interesting, and the more your sister brought him around, the more you realised that you actually kinda liked the guy. 

Things were just easy between the two of you, you never had to pretend to be anything but what you were.

You were the one who started putting space between you and her. It wasn’t intentional, at least not on their part, but somewhere along the way you’d started to realise that Osamu wasn’t the odd one out anymore; you were. She was building a life with him, and fortnightly visits turned into monthly ones, and then eventually it became once every few months and after that only on holidays and special occasions – their wedding being one of them.

At Christmas, cheeks flushed with alcohol, she’d pulled you into a one armed hug, pouting into your sweater. “You never come visit us anymore,” she’d sniffled dramatically, “I miss you.”

But it was Osamu – fingers laced with your sister’s, a hint of a smile curling at his lips – who’d voiced it. “Come spend yer summer break with us.”

Three months later you’d awoken to a call telling you that there’d been an accident. Your sister was dead.

Weeks pass by in a blur. Your classes are a haze of droning voices and mindless typing, you submit papers you don’t remember writing and you get good marks anyway. Your friends don’t know how to act around you, everything feels surreal, like you’re moving around in a dream, nothing touches you anymore. It hurts, but you’ve wrapped up that pain and put it someplace safe, seeking it out only when you’re alone and you just can’t bear the numbness a second longer.

The trip you’d promised to take back home to Osaka is the furthest thing from your mind, at least until Osamu calls you in the early hours of the morning, a week or so before the semester ends.

“Yer still coming home for summer, right?”

The word ‘no’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. The last time you’d seen each other was at the funeral, his face blank and hollow, eyes rimmed in red. He’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to you, but he’d stayed by your side the entire time, calmly thanking those who came up to express their condolences. 

You’d lost your sister, but he’d lost his wife. 

“Do you still want me to?” you ask him quietly instead. If you were in his shoes, you’re not so sure that you would. 

Yet Osamu sighs heavily, and you catch a faint clinking sound on the other end of the line, like a bottle being set back against the marble countertop. “I just–” but he breaks off and something inside of your chest tugs. “I want ya here. The house is empty… she’s gone and I… I want ya here. Please.” 

How could you possibly say no after that? Maybe you’ve been selfish, so wrapped up in your own grief and misery. You’d assumed that because Osamu had Atsumu he’d be okay. Not right away, of course, but he’d have that support around him – a support system that you were without.

It didn’t enter your mind that perhaps he was struggling too. That he was spending night after night alone in a house etched with memories of her. And just as you’d thought that Tsumu was the one keeping his head above water, maybe he was offering a hand to do the same for you. 

—

He’s waiting for you on the porch when your taxi pulls up on the kerb. The driver’s nice enough to help you with your bags, but Osamu is quick to intercept, waving off the help with an impatient huff that almost makes you laugh.

“Yer here,” he says once he sets them down on the porch, grinning as he tugs you into a warm embrace.

It’s then that you get a good look at him, a proper look – and for a moment, you’re taken aback. You haven’t seen him since the funeral a few months back, granted, but Osamu doesn’t look the way you imagined him to – especially after your call the other night. There’s no hint of pallid skin, no bloodshot eyes with heavy bags underneath or a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. No, even with his dark hair still a mess, dressed in jeans and his Onigiri Miya tee, Osamu looks good. Healthy even, if the way the sleeves of his shirt cling to his biceps is any indication. 

It takes you a second to realise that you’re staring, because Samu chuckles, brushing past you to bring your stuff inside.

“Y’know, most people start with a hello,” he calls over his shoulder. 

Your cheeks heat, a hint of shame curling inside of you. Were you expecting him to be an inconsolable wreck? You know better than most that grief messes with people differently, and it’s not fair of you to judge him, however unintentionally, for not fitting that image of the grieving husband.

It’s a good sign. 

“Hi, Samu,” you reply somewhat sheepishly, following him inside.

He’s already walking towards your old bedroom, the ‘guest room’ now (though you and he both know it’s always been yours), leaving you to trail behind the older man. Your intention is to stop him from going to too much effort, but as you walk past the living room, something catches your eye.

Or rather, the absence of something. Faltering in your step, it takes you a second to realise what’s missing, but as you glance around, brows furrowing in confusion, it hits you. 

The pictures of you and your sister, the cute ones with her and Samu, the old family snaps that used to line the walls and sit on the TV unit, they’re gone. And it’s not just the pictures. The artwork your sister had painted that used to hang by the wall next to the kitchen, the little pot plants she’d doted on like children, hell, the throw that she’d knitted one winter that was always lying on the couch; they’re all gone.

The room feels almost alien without them, unfamiliar and cold. He’d hung up some cool photography stuff to fill in some of the spaces, but instead of homey it just felt… modern. Like the pictures you see in magazines of staged houses that nobody actually lives in. 

And you must have been standing there for a while, because you don’t notice it when Samu comes back to find you still holding your purse, gazing around like a lost child.

“I didn’t get rid of ‘em, if that’s what yer thinking.”

You turn to face him, except Osamu isn’t looking at you. He’s gazing at the walls around you both, his face strangely impassive – except for his eyes. It’s impossible for you to miss the hurt that swims there, the faint sheen they didn’t hold only moments ago. “I packed them away – they’re in yer room if ya want to look through any of it, it’s just…” he trails off, finally glancing back to look at you. And once again, you feel that flicker of guilt slowly eating away at you. “It was painful, seeing her face everywhere.”

Before you left your apartment that morning, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry today – but the tears come unbidden, and one moment you’re standing there staring at him and the next you’re choking on a sob, hand coming to your lips to try and stifle it.

Osamu’s there in a second, solid arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He doesn’t say a word (what’s there to say anymore?) he just hums softly, stroking your back with a gentle hand as you fall apart once more.

—

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a rhythm. There’d been some part of you that was hesitant about this whole thing – despite having a relatively good relationship with your brother in law, you knew that the only real connection between the two of you was your sister.

Without her, living in the same space and trying to navigate around the holes that she’d left, you’d expected it to be at least a little awkward between the two of you. But with Osamu working full time, it was kind of a non-issue. Aside from the first day when he’d taken the morning off to help you get settled, he was usually gone before you woke up, and most nights he wasn’t home until nine or ten. How he worked such long hours six days a week without collapsing out of sheer exhaustion was beyond you, but you tried to make things easier for him, cooking dinner for the two of you.

“Y’know ya don’t have to do this every night, right?” he asks you one night, sticking the leftover chicken into the microwave. “I have a restaurant, I can sort out my own dinner.”

You don’t tell him that despite being a rather terrible cook, it was one of the things your sister made sure to do every night in the weeks following your parents’ death. You’d spend most of your day holed up in your room if you weren’t at school, but dinner was the one time you’d sit and talk with her. It became a ritual; something sacred and special between the two of you.

You’re a better cook than she was by far, no comparison for Osamu, of course, but it’s the only way you really know how to help with… whatever this is. 

Instead, you just offer him a wry look from your position on the couch, “And yet, you never do.”

He scoffs at that, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, “Why would I eat there when I know yer cookin’ for me?”

—

Of course, as easy as it is to slip into living with Osamu, you can’t escape what happened there forever. 

It doesn’t slip your notice the first night you spend there; the spare toothbrush in your bathroom, the decidedly masculine body wash in the shower, or how one of the shelves in the vanity was stocked with shaving cream and cologne and a few odd skin care products. You’d assumed that they were Atsumu’s, spares stashed away for the odd nights he crashed here. There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom, so you know it can’t be Samu’s stuff.

Except you find yourself proven wrong one night, when fresh from your shower and clad only in a fluffy white towel, you open the door to find a shirtless Osamu filling the space, one arm propped up on the doorframe. 

“Anyone ever tell ya yer a bit of a bathroom hog?” he asks, smirking down at you.

And you’re so taken aback, utterly confused as to why he’s standing there half dressed, why it matters how long you take in the bathroom – never mind that the only thing covering you from complete nakedness is your towel – that you can only stand there, gaping like a fish as he laughs, takes you by the shoulders and physically shifts you out of the way as he slides on past.

It takes you until the following morning – Osamu’s sole day off – to ask him about it, clutching nervously at your cup of coffee while he busies himself making breakfast for the two of you. 

“Samu, um, about last night…” you timidly begin. 

He glances up at you from the stove, a single eyebrow raised. “What about it?”

Your cheeks are already burning, eyes darting between his face and the mug in your hands as you struggle to find the right words to bring it up without making things weird. “Well, I-I was just wondering… um, why you were using my bathroom?”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction that you’re expecting, but the dark look that flashes across his face isn’t it. For a split second, your insides clench, terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing–

But as quickly as it appeared, Osamu’s expression smooths over. He exhales heavily, setting down the spoon in his hand as he turns to face you properly, and when your eyes flicker up once more, you realise with a start that it’s pity that’s taken its place. 

And a second too late, the pieces inside your head fall into place.

“Oh.”

Osamu nods only once. “I can’t go in without seeing her lyin’ there… I thought ya knew.”

And it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. She’d died in their bathroom – slipped on the wet tiles and cracked her head open on the edge of their bath, and Samu had been the one to find her. 

Weakly your eyes flutter shut, bitter nausea churning in your gut. How could he stay here, sleep in the next room when–

“Hey, hey, calm down, I gotcha,” Samu’s voice is at your ear, and your head’s spinning, pounding, and you can’t breathe. The mug in your hand tumbles to the floor, your coffee spilling across the wooden floorboards as weak fingers clutch at empty air, and then those arms are around you once more and Osamu’s trying to soothe you.

Breakfast is forgotten as he tugs you towards the couch to sit. And as he holds you, speaks to you in that calm, unwavering voice you try to focus on the scent of him (masculine and earthy, a hint of spice and cedar), the fabric of his shirt under your cheek and the gentle, almost lazy circles he rubs into your side and not the mental image of your sister, lying broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor.

—

It doesn’t take much effort to find the stash of your sister’s things that Samu set aside in your room. You lose hours flicking through pictures of her, smiling through your tears as they dredge up old, happy memories of the two of you.

Even the ones of her and Samu, his arms looped around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head; she’s always wearing that bright grin that makes your heart ache.

There are a few of the three of you – one from the last time they’d come to visit you in Tokyo and you’d dragged them off to Disneyland. You’re standing between the two of them, beaming at the camera while Samu’s arm hangs off your shoulder and your sister, grinning widely and wearing the minnie mouse ears she’d bought at the first opportunity, tosses up a peace sign. 

Softly wiping away your tears, you set it aside. You’ll have to ask Samu if you can take that one home with you.

—

“What’re ya doin’ tomorrow?”

It’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of snacks between you like the old days when he asks.

“Not much,” you reply. “I was going to go to the markets at some point in the morning and maybe head to the beach after that, why?”

Grey-ish brown eyes flicker across to you, “A few of my old teammates are in town, we’re meetin’ up for some drinks. I want ya to come with me.”

“Oh,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. “Um, yeah… if you want?”

It ends up sounding more like a question, a fact that doesn’t slip past Osamu if the amused little snort he gives in response is any indication. And it’s not that you don’t want to give up your plans in favour of going with him; you get along pretty well with Atsumu and you’ve met most of his old teammates at least once or twice, it’s just that you’re a little confused as to why he’d want you there to begin with.

They’re all at least twelve years older than you, and while it occurs to you that maybe he’s just inviting you along to be polite (not that that’s ever been his style before) the last thing you want is to be stuck feeling like an afterthought, all but ignored as he and his friends catch up.

“I said I wanted ya there, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “‘sides, Tsumu already asked if you were comin’.”

Which is how you find yourself dressed up for the first time in months, fingers smoothing out the hem of your dress as Samu tosses you a lazy grin from the driver’s seat. “Relax, wouldja? They ain’t gonna bite.”

You know that. They’re good guys, but no matter how much rationalising you try to do, you can’t seem to quell the anxiety eating you up, and the frustrating thing is that you don’t know why you’re feeling it.

He’d neglected to tell you that they weren’t meeting at some bar or restaurant, but at Atsumu’s condo in the city (‘Showy fuckin’ bastard’ Samu’d huffed as he’d pulled up in front of the building), but you suppose it really doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Ya look good,” he compliments, eyeing you for a moment while the two of you wait for the elevator. 

Cheeks warming, you drop your gaze and stutter out a quiet thank you. Apparently unsatisfied, he leans closer, reaching one large hand up to gently ruffle your hair – grinning in satisfaction when you shriek and try to pry it away. “Relax,” he whispers again, the warmth of his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. “Yer too wound up.”

Distracted by the arrival of the elevator, you fail to notice that instead of returning back to his side, his hand drops to your shoulder.

And it should be easier to do just that once you have a drink in hand. Atsumu greets you with a one armed hug, the only hint of anything out of the ordinary being the way his gaze lingers a beat too long as he studies your face, his eyes sharp and missing nothing. But whatever he sees (or doesn’t see) his expression softens into a smile, “Glad ya came.”

But even as you’re greeted by the others, falling into an easy conversation with Kita and Aran you can’t seem to shift the uneasiness in your stomach. There’s something in the air, a tension nobody really wants to admit to.

And you can’t quite tell if the others are surprised that Samu brought you at all, or if it’s just because you’re a living reminder of a tragedy that’s still fresh and raw, and everyone’s trying to pretend that it’s not. You don’t blame them for it, of course, they only mean the best. But you can see it in the way Suna side eyes you every now and then, how skilfully Akagi skirts anything that could touch a nerve when he comes up to chat.

It’s like they’re all walking on eggshells – though whether it’s for your benefit or Osamu’s, you’re not entirely sure. For his part, Samu sticks close, keeping your drink topped up, an arm slung over your shoulders as the afternoon wears into the evening. 

Yet despite that, the alcohol you’re drinking far too quickly starts to work its magic, filling your body with a warm, pleasant little buzz, and you actually start to enjoy yourself. You laugh easier, giggling when the twins start to bicker, gasping in wicked delight when Suna offers to show you certain embarrassing photos of both of them on his phone (he has quite the collection), even letting Gin and Tsumu drag you into taking shots with them.

And all the while, Samu watches you, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

—

By the time he unlocks the front door and you stumble back inside, you’re absolutely plastered, giggling at nothing and tripping over your own feet.

As always, Samu’s there to catch you, strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Careful there, princess,” he laughs.

You grin up at him, carefree and heartbreakingly beautiful. For the first time in months you feel light, you feel amazing and you don’t want this to end. Kicking your heels off, you skip inside, leading him by the hand. “Samu,” you call back over your shoulder. “I wanna dance.”

“Nobody’s stopping ya.”

“But there’s no music,” you pout, and once again he chuckles, letting you go to settle back into the leather couch as he pulls out his phone. A moment later a familiar, lively melody floods the living room, and you let yourself become lost to it. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and dancing alone, Samu’s dark eyes following your every move, you’ve never felt so free.

Arms raised in the air, hips swaying hypnotically to the beat, you lose track of time. It could’ve been minutes or seconds or a whole hour, but suddenly you’re not alone anymore – Samu’s there with you. His cologne invades your senses, why does he always smell so good? His body’s warm, almost hot as he slots himself behind you, caging you against him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice sending shivers running down your spine. “Yer a little tease, ya know that?”

And there’s something wrong with that, you know there is, but you can’t seem to think of what it is – not when the weight of his hold’s impeding your movement. A pout adorns your face, a soft, almost petulant whine escaping your lips as you try in vain to untangle yourself, “Samu, lemme go. I wanna dance.”

He huffs out a laugh, but that doesn’t sound right either. “Don’t wanna dance with you, pretty girl.”

There’s something hard pressing against your lower back, and his hot breath ghosts over your neck a moment before lips descend to suck on the sensitive flesh.

In a split second, all that blissful, warm, drunken happiness evaporates. Samu groans lowly, his chest rumbling at your back, but there’s a pit of something cold and urgent that’s seeping through your veins, distant, foggy alarm bells tolling inside of your head and you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it.

You want it to stop.

“S-Samu,” you whine, shifting uncomfortably against his hold. 

This time he listens, drawing back just enough that he can turn you around to face him. And those familiar eyes are hooded and dark, burning with an intensity that makes you want to recoil even as he stares down at you, taking your cheek in hand.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until his thumb’s brushing away your tears. There’s nothing comforting or pleasant (nothing of the Samu you know) on his face as he studies your fearful expression, but eventually he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She was positive I was cheatin’ on her,” he admits. “Did she ever tell ya that?” He pauses for a beat waiting for a reply, but when it’s clear that you don’t have one for him, he just scoffs, “No, ‘course not. That’d be admitting that not everything about our life was picture perfect, and heaven fuckin’ forbid we do that. Y’know, that's why she wanted ya back here so bad. She needed a buffer.”

Bitterness clings to every word like poison and you flinch, renewing your struggles to get away. Not that he lets you – the moment you start to squirm the arm around your waist tugs you closer, anchoring you against him. The tears come faster, followed by soft, hiccuping sobs, but Samu seems beyond caring at that point.

“Stupid bitch never could see what was right in front of her face. That’s what we were fightin’ about that night; she said she was gonna leave me.”

Your heart clenches, fear pooling in your gut, but Samu just smiles at you, a mockery of sweet tenderness, reaching back to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “But you know I’d never hurt my pretty girl, don’t ya, baby?” he asks. “Just want a taste tonight.”

You don’t even have time to suck in a breath before he’s kissing you, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

And all you can taste is the whiskey on his tongue.

—

You can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, the faint, reddish blemish colouring your neck.

A hickey.

Tentatively, as if trying to prove that it’s real and not a figment of your imagination, you prod at the mark, only to wince at the tenderness. Definitely real.

You’d woken up to an empty house – unsurprising considering it was well past ten and you knew Osamu had work today – with your head pounding and your mouth uncomfortably dry. Wracking your brain, you can’t seem to conjure up a rational explanation for the bruise. Granted, you can’t really remember much of last night, only fragments of being at Atsumu’s place, and certainly nothing after you’d started taking those shots.

Which doesn’t make the uneasiness sitting heavy in your stomach any easier to take, because you know that you hadn’t been cosying up to anybody before you’d lost track of the night, and if it had happened after, then surely Samu or one of the others would have stepped in and put a stop to it.

And that should’ve been more of a comforting thought than it was, because if it didn’t happen at Atsumu’s then that meant it happened afterwards, when you were here with Samu.

Your heart thumps unevenly against your ribs.

Osamu. Your dead sister’s husband, your brother in law. 

A hickey on your neck isn’t just a kiss. It’s not a simple, drunken peck against your lips, it meant that somebody had sucked on the skin, bitten at it, kissed until blood vessels broke – it’s not the kind of thing that happens accidentally. 

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you barely manage to make it to the bathroom before you’re violently emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. And you know as you collapse onto the cool tiled floor, shaking just a little, that this time at least, the alcohol isn’t to blame.

You know Samu; you trust him implicitly. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake or something. You’d both been drinking, and he’s still grieving and–

There’s no point jumping to conclusions or working yourself up any more than you already have. You’ll just bring it up with him when he gets home, you decide. 

Yet anxiety and guilt gnaw at you as the hours crawl by, you’re half tempted to pick up your phone and just call him to ask point blank. The clock feels like it’s mocking you every time you glance up, and while you try your best to distract yourself with household chores and then busying yourself with dinner, none of it works for long.

By the time he does stride through the door, a little before ten, you’re an anxious wreck, all but wringing your fingers as you sit rigid and tense at the table. Most nights you eat before he gets home, hunger getting the better of you, but tonight you don’t seem to have much of an appetite. 

“Smells good,” he comments with an easy grin, toeing off his shoes and dropping his wallet and keys by the door.

You open your mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat as he drops a kiss down on the top of your head and walks on past to grab a bowl from the kitchen.

“I’m starving.”

Instead, you just swallow nervously as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits, not wasting another second before digging in. Your eyes quickly dart over to study him, but you don’t see any hint of guilt or unease on his face. He just looks like the same old Samu, a little tired maybe, but otherwise totally normal, and so you force yourself to pick up your spoon and follow suit. 

And he’s never been one to fill silences with meaningless chatter, but tonight the quiet between the two of you feels oppressive, every clink of metal against ceramic echoing too loudly, every chew, every swallow setting you on edge. You can’t even taste the food, your stomach too twisted in knots for you to feel anything but nauseous after a few bites. 

“… Is everything okay?” he asks after a few minutes, and it’s so sudden amongst the tense silence that you visibly jerk, almost dropping the spoon you’d been toying with. 

You glance up to find him staring, brows furrowed in concern, and once again your stomach flips. It’s now or never.

“Um… did anything happen last night?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Osamu’s frown deepens fractionally, and he tilts his head as your fingers twist in your lap, “What d’ya mean?”

Did we kiss? The words dangle on the tip of your tongue, but as you nervously meet his eyes, you find nothing but confusion and concern there. And for a moment, you almost speak them, but then Samu’s reaching across the table to take your hand in his, and as his warm palm swallows up yours, you lose your nerve.

“You sure yer okay?”

Whatever happened, he doesn’t remember it and neither do you. 

Smiling tightly, you nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

There’s no reason for you to drag him through the mud for this, you’re already feeling enough guilt and shame for the both of you.

—

You try to put it out of your mind, but it’s not that easy.

Lying awake in bed at night, your brain unwittingly turns over possibilities of what else could’ve caused the mark if not Osamu. Guilt gnaws at you every second that you’re around him and all the while he’s painfully oblivious to it all.

He’s always been affectionate with you, but all those stray, unthinking touches now carry a different weight with them. You find yourself ducking away from them more often than not, pretending that you don’t see the almost wounded look in those greyish-brown eyes when you do. You start to avoid him, finding other places to be whenever he’s home.

And you hate yourself for it, because Osamu’s been nothing but faithful to your sister for as long as you’ve known him. You’re the one acting like there’s something wrong between the two of you, like he’s treating you any differently than he always has when you know that’s not the case.

You know that, but when you catch sight of the fading bruise in the mirror, your stomach twists into knots all the same. 

There are excuses and justifications aplenty, but none of them make you feel any better. You still find yourself sniffling into your pillow, swallowed up by your guilt when you imagine how devastated your sister would be if she knew.

You’d let her husband kiss you. Being drunk and miserable and grieving didn’t change that. Whether he knew it was you or mistook you for her; it doesn’t matter. Maybe it was a mistake, letting him talk you into coming.

Things were still too raw, too fresh. You’d thought that coming here would help, but so far it’s only made everything worse, and unintentionally or not, you can’t kid yourself that your presence is doing anything to help Osamu anymore.

You need to go back to Tokyo.

Somewhat selfishly, you’re tempted to put it off until the weekend, because you know that Onigiri Miya has a stall for the beginning of the summer festival and he’ll be too preoccupied with that to think about anything else – but you just can’t bring yourself to do that to him. 

No, it’s better to rip it off like a bandaid; nice and quick. 

You’d planned on breaking the news over dinner, but as you pick your way through your noodles, you notice that Samu’s quieter than he usually is. Every time you risk a glance up he’s staring at the table, looking entirely lost in thought, and it just doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.

Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll cook his favourite for dinner and tell him then.

—

The knocking startles you from your sleep with a jolt. It’s quiet, hesitant almost, but you’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Samu?” you croak out, fumbling blindly for the phone at your bedside to see what time it is. 

The door opens, a crack of light from the hallway spilling into your room as Osamu looks in. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it’s late, but I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama pants, but he doesn’t look to be in any immediate kind of trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have disturbed you in the middle of the night if it wasn’t something important, so you blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes and force yourself to sit up as he slips into your room and shuts the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, and even with the moonlight streaming in through your window, his face is cast in shadow as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. And it’s silly, especially considering he’s the one who’s shirtless right now but it’s hard not to flush at the realisation that you’re only wearing a thin, satiny slip. You feel almost naked – he’s seen you in bikinis before, but it feels different here, when he’s the one in your bedroom.

“You asked me the other day about what happened the night we went to Tsumu’s,” he begins, his voice quiet and soft in the early hours of the morning, and suddenly your state of dress is the last thing on your mind. 

Swallowing tightly, your pulse quickens and you still, waiting for him to continue.

And you feel, rather than see, the way he stares at you, inching a fraction closer when you don’t immediately answer. “And I lied. Or I didn’t exactly tell ya the full truth.”

“Which is?” you force out.

Samu’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep, slow breath in and exhales heavily. “You were drunk and ya came onto me, tried to kiss me.” You flinch, a choked sound escaping your throat at the blunt admission, but he’s quick to reach for you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “And in the heat of the moment, I let ya.”

Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but the moment you try to turn away from him, biting your lip and trying to blink back the tears, he stops you. 

“Osamu–”

“‘Cause I’ve spent years waiting to kiss those lips, an’ I’m tired of pretending we both don’t want this.”

And he’s kissing you; soft and sweet and gentle, his lips molding to yours as he cups the back of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingertips as he draws himself closer, groaning into your mouth.

It doesn’t matter that your hands are on his bare chest, pushing at him, hitting him – those muscles aren’t just for show; he’s immovable. The more you squirm, trying to extricate yourself so that you can plead with him to stop–

This is a mistake. A horrible, awful misunderstanding. He’s upset and grieving and not thinking clearly and you have to stop this.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

– the more his grip tightens until it starts to hurt and you’re whimpering into the kiss. Your tears are wetting his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, won’t stop and there’s a panic that rises within you every second that you’re entangled with him.

“Don’t do this,” he mutters, breaking the kiss as a sob rips its way free from your throat, “Don’t pretend ya don’t want this, baby. I know ya do. Stop being a little fuckin’ tease.”

He leans back in, intent on capturing your lips again, and in an act of desperation you reach for his face, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Samu, please,” you beg, wide, imploring eyes searching his face for any hint of a reprieve. “You’re scaring me. Stop, please, j-just for a second.”

Just a second, that’s all you need to try and snap him out of whatever the hell this is. One second. 

Osamu stills, his face mere inches from your own, his body hovering atop yours. His breath, ragged and uneven, ghosts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but you don’t dare move as he leans into the touch, grey eyes fluttering shut.

He sighs, the sound almost like a shiver. “Ya don’t need to be scared, ‘m gonna take good care of my girl.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, not as he forces himself onto you once more. You used to marvel a little at Osamu. Tall, handsome and strong, even in his mid thirties; Samu was fit. Now, straddling your waist, pinning your wrists to the wall with one hand, the other palming at your tits, he dwarfs you entirely. He isn’t impatient, not as he kisses you languidly, not as he slides the soft, satin up your thigh, revealing your underwear.

Your hiccuping sniffles aren’t enough to move him, you’re not strong enough to physically fight him off. He doesn’t pay the tearful, breathless pleas sobbed out between kisses any mind. 

Osamu grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your front, lips brushing at the nape of your neck as he smooths your hair back, and you’re utterly helpless to stop him. 

And as his hand runs down your side and he coaxes your hips up into the air, you almost wish that he was rough. Because this pretense of gentleness, glinting steel masquerading as silk – it’s too intimate, and you feel complicit.

Like you’re willing.

Like you want this with him.

An act of love as he tugs your panties down to your knees and hums in quiet satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, glistening just for him.

There’s a voice in your head telling you you should be screaming and kicking and snarling like a wild, feral thing, but Osamu’s grabbing at your ass, spreading it to get a better look, his thumb gliding along your slit and all you can think about is the picture he’d packed away, the one of the three of you at Disneyland. 

Samu’s arm slung over your shoulder, and your sister’s bright smile.

He spits; a warm, fat glob of saliva hitting your pussy, and as it slowly dribbles down the only sound that leaves your lips is a soft, broken whine. You don’t fight him when he takes his cock in hand and guides the flushed head, pre-cum already oozing at the tip, along your cunt, you just lie there, a toy for him to move and manipulate however he wants.

“You’ll forgive me for this, I know ya will,” he murmurs, softly squeezing your hip just once as something thick and blunt presses at your entrance. 

But it doesn’t matter, not as his cock sheaths itself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust, because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself.

[cloud-9ine]

Cable Shocks

⤷ pairing - denki kaminari x reader

⤷ fandom - bnha

⤷ warnings - slight angst, hurt/comfort, illness, exploitation

⤷ summary - you notice the other class 1-a students using denki’s quirk for their favours, and you catch him later paying the price

⤷ word count - 3.2k+

Denki Kaminari was a giver.

He gave his help, he gave his laughter, he gave his love, and recently, he was beginning to give himself, too.

It started off innocently: he showed the Class 1-A students his party trick- look at that, he can charge phones! After that, the others had regularly come to him in need of their devices being charged, or electricity constantly pumped into something that only he could provide. And Denki, being a giver, well, he never said no.

It didn’t matter to him that it would make him short circuit, it didn’t matter to him that they would laugh, it didn’t even matter to him that all he could taste every evening was acid.

Denki Kaminari was a giver, and he was prepared to give his life.

Your class common room was never empty. At any given time, there was always at least two of your classmates in there- no exceptions. If you wanted to make tea in the early morning, Iida and Yaoyorozu would greet you with beaming grins unbecoming of such an unnatural time. Alternatively, if you wanted to cry at 3 AM, you would lay your eyes on Tokoyami and Jirou plunged into the darkness, leaving you to wonder whether they were just acting off or if they were summoning a demon to curse those who have wronged them.

At this moment, Denki was sat on the centre sofa, three cables stuck between his teeth. Beside him sat Mina, eagerly chatting to Kirishima who sat opposite to her on a plush chair with Sero lounged over the arm of it. The three looked content, but you couldn’t help but notice the stiffness at which Denki was disposed, concentration knotting his brows as he worked on keeping the sparks flowing through the wires.

You slipped into the room, deciding on the space on the other side of Denki. The other occupants of the room gave you a quick hello before returning to their previous conversations. With the exception of Denki, obviously, who seemingly forgot his task the moment he heard your name mentioned. His eyes sparkled once he saw you, his head turning to the side as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Hey, Kaminari, you’re dropping the wires!” Sero snickered, eyeing up the way Denki looked down in alarm.

“Only 27%? Come on, I need more than that!” Mina whined, shoving the cables back into the spooked boy’s mouth. He looked at you apologetically, attempting to convey something with wild gestures that you couldn’t begin to comprehend. You laughed, patting the top of his head to quell his struggles.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just chill, yeah?” He paused, dropping his hands to his lap and nodding. You grinned, bumping your shoulder against his before pulling your phone out. Denki squinted at the object, as if it had personally offended him. Grinning, you shook your head.

“Fully charged. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” His expression softened, cheeks glowing a slight pink at your words. You shifted slightly to get more comfortable, ending up slumped against Denki’s side, who in return leaned into you.

“And so basically, I told him he was nuts, right?” The careless ramblings of Mina was enough to get you to relax, scrolling aimlessly through your friend’s Instagram posts. Ochako had posted a weirdly aesthetic picture of mochi, Midoriya had posted a picture of Ochako, Iida was posting about cyber-bullying, the works.

Being in physical contact with Denki while he was in charging mode, you noticed, made your hair float up like static electricity. You didn’t mind this, taking to flattening down your hair every once in a while during your relaxation. It was easy to let go with your classmates- the gentle lull of the voices of the others mixed with the pleasant buzz of Denki’s skin against yours made for a comforting experience that almost made you fall asleep.

“Hey dunce face!” Denki jumped at the sound of Bakugo’s voice, his elbow jutting into your side and forcing you to tense up. He didn’t seem to notice your subtle glare, however, as his attention was focused on the other boy that had slammed open the door (not that Bakugo seemed entirely angry today, but it was just his natural disposition that made every action of his aggressive).

“H-Hey bro! What’s up?” Bakugo didn’t respond to Kirishima’s words, further ignoring the similar muffled greeting that Denki managed to let out.

“I need this charged,” he grumbled, moving to Denki and shoving a fourth wire in his mouth. You frowned, eyeing up the two boys wearily. The screens of the current phones flashed, an indication that he wasn’t putting in enough charge. He gulped as Bakugo stomped back out the room, his eyes squeezing shut as he amped up the electricity.

As if a switch had been flipped, Denki’s blonde locks frizzed up before succinctly falling back down to his head. You stared at him, eyes widened as the wires dropped to the ground.

“Wheeeee!” His body fell into you, thumbs sticking out with a goofy smile painted onto his face. A small smile pushed passed your lips as you grabbed a pillow and placed it under his head just as he fell off your shoulder and into your lap.

“Oh my god! He’s buzzed out!” Mina cackled, grabbing her phone to snap a couple of photos as the others laughed.

“I love the guy, but my god is he dumb.” You bit your lip at Sero’s grin, angling Denki’s head away from the camera and raking your hands through his hair. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling his face into your stomach as he rambled about something to do with being okay. It was hard to understand him in this state.

“Come on guys, not cool.” You mumbled, using your sleeve to wipe away a bit of drool on Denki’s chin.

“Ah, cheer up (Y/N)! He does this all the time- it doesn’t matter!” Kirishima’s words made a pit coil in your stomach, nausea prickling your throat.

“It doesn’t matter. Leave him alone.” Mina rolled her eyes.

“God, it’s not a big deal. It’s his own fault, anyway.” You couldn’t help the annoyance that fuelled the glare in your eyes, but you pushed it down with a harder bite to the inside of your cheek. There was the burst of something metallic that tinged your tongue, but you ignored it.

“Come on, Denki. Let’s go,” said boy didn’t seem to recognise your words until you propped him up so you could stand up before pulling him off the sofa. Seemingly slightly resigned by your actions, Mina dropped her phone into her lap, looking away. This didn’t stop the other two from laughing, however, the volume of their cackles only increasing as Denki fell into your back.

With a groan, you shoved your shoulder into the door to open it and letting Denki clamber through. You painstakingly led him into his dorm room, redirecting him away from every wall he tried to run into and each piece of furniture he rammed into his abdomen. Your phone was blowing up with notifications, but you elected to ignore that as you made sure he didn’t hit his head as he fell onto his bed.

You wrote him a quick note and stuck it on his door, turning around to make one last check that he wasn’t going to kill himself the moment you stepped out the door.

Come find me when you’re back to normal.

“(Y/N)…” he whined, hands reaching out for you as he rolled onto his side, eyes sparkling once he saw you. You sighed, moving to brush a strand of his hair behind his ear.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” It didn’t seem like he quite understood what you said, but the compliant nod and shining smile was enough to convince you he would be okay.

AlienQueen: [ATTACHMENT SENT]

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PinkQueen: guys!! look at kami asjadoawdhd

ALiteralRock: haha! you shoulda been there

Froggi: He’s been doing that more lately

Invisibitch: Good! It’s so funny!

PinkCake: hes so cute <33

GreenCake: It’s interesting how Denki has been ‘buzzing out’ more, but I suppose if he’s been using his quirk more often outside of training he could be slowly building a resistance.

BoomBoomBoy: Shut up.

IidaTenya: I sure hope he is safe!

TapeMan: nah, (Y/N) got im

You didn’t see Denki for the rest of the day.

When you stirred from your sleep, it was still dark. You felt a warmth building below your skin that spurred you to strip of your blanket, allowing it to fall into a crumpled heap onto the floor before creeping out the room. In the dead silence of the night, each one of your footfalls sounded like a bang to a drum.

The common room was empty that night. You squinted through the darkness, feeling your way to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water. You stilled in the quiet for a moment, letting the movement settle as you took a sip. There was always a sort of ringing once it got quiet enough, a small reminder that despite the fact you were alone in the dark, there was still something going on.

Click.

At the end of the hall, a light turned on, the orange glow a stark contrast from the deep shadows that plagued the area. You heard a quiet shuffling, before a muffled gagging sound rang out.

Eyes widening, you rushed as quietly as you could down the hall, nearly crashing into the door as you shoved your way into the bathroom.

Hunched over the sink, chest racking with coughs and gags was Denki, his eyes teary as they struggled to focus on you. A dark substance, almost completely black if it were not for the slightest translucency, dripped from his parted lips and into the basin, clashing against the pure white marble.

You clapped a hand to your mouth, willing down the tears that welled in your eyes.

“Denki… what?” You choked out, voice hoarse from the dryness that stung your throat. Denki attempted to push himself up, hands trembling and knuckles white as he gripped the side of the countertop.

“(Y/N)…” his voice shook as he reached up to wipe his mouth, taking a step back from you in a vain bid to pass you and leave. You quickly snapped the door shut, no longer caring whether you woke anyone up.

Click.

Denki weakly chuckled at the look on your face. The lock. He closed himself into the corner of the room, pressing his back against the wall.

“Look, I’m fine-“ He was cut off by himself, lurching back over the sink and coughing up more of the liquid.

“What is that?” You questioned, silent horror pinching your features. He turned on the tap, filling his hands with water and washing out his mouth. Darting to the toilet- and struggling to move in such closed quarters- you balled up a handful of toilet paper and wiped his mouth. He leaned into your touch, skin emanating heat and covered by a thin sheen of sweat.

“Battery acid.” You felt your knees go weak.

“What?”

“It’s battery acid. The more I overuse my quirk, the more likely this stuff is to accumulate in my throat,” he looked away from your piercing gaze, “it’s okay, really.”

“What part of this is okay?” You spat, voice wavering. Denki winced at your tone, turning to washing his mouth out with more water, “Does it hurt?” He paused, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, only the sound of running water interspersed the atmosphere. You reached over and turned it off, not acknowledging the shrill screech of the metal as you levelled Denki with an even stare.

“It’s from the charging.” He muttered, and your knuckles clenched.

“Of-fucking-course.” He cringed, a clammy palm feebly gripping your forearm. His eyes were desperate, frown twisting his expression into something you couldn’t bear to look at.

“Please, (Y/N), it’s okay,” he begged, a tear slipping out of his eye just at the same time you felt one trail down your cheek.

“It’s not okay, Denki. How long has this been happening?” He fell silent, and you could feel the anxiety coiling in the pit of your stomach.

“Four months.” In a split-second decision, you lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your body into his. He nestled his face into your neck, hands coming to rest on your hips. Seemingly unable to keep it together any long, he crumbled, chest stuttering with every breath and his tears soaking the skin that was exposed by your nightshirt.

The silence of midnight began to creep in once again, only broken by the soft whimpers and sobs of the boy practically clutching onto you. You waited as long as you needed to until Denki had caught his breath, not counting the minutes yet painfully aware of each one as it passed.

“From now on, if someone asks you to charge anything, you say no, okay?” Denki frowned, rubbing away the tears in his eyes.

“I-“

“From now on, if someone asks you to charge anything, you say no, got it?” You spat, voice much firmer and tone a lot more sharp. He gulped, resigning to nodding with a sullen expression on his face.

“Are you good to go back to sleep? Or is there anything I need to do first?”

“It’s fine. You can go back now, don’t stay up for any longer.”

“I will do what I want, thanks.” you seethed, eyes glinting. Denki looked taken aback, glancing over your expression wearily.

“Uh…” “I am not going back to sleep unless you’re coming with me. You’re such an idiot-” you paused, “-but you’re my idiot, and there’s no way I’m letting the others treat you like this,“ you cupped his face, fingers pressing into pink cheeks as you angled his face to look at you, “if they want anything else from you, they have to go through me first.” Agape, he only nodded again, allowing you to grab his hand and pull him out the room.

Once he flicked the light off, the two of you were awash in darkness once again, but this seemed not to deter you. Rather, you traipsed across the corridor with a ridiculous amount of determination, only narrowly avoiding the various obstructions in the shadows.

“Here, let me light-“ Despite the little he could see, Denki could practically feel your burning glare. Bringing his hand down, he murmured an apology, musing in your little nod of satisfaction he could feel the motions of.

It only took you a few minutes to get to your room, pushing him inside and closing the door behind you. In spite of everything, Denki could feel heat rushing to his cheeks for an entirely different reason than his fever.

“(Y/N)?” He squeaked, hearing you fumble around the room yet not finding courage to stay anything but completely frozen.

“Yeah?” You questioned, voice low but feeling remarkably pleasant to his ears.

“This isn’t my room.”

“I know.”

“So why am I here?”

“Because I’m not leaving you alone. Come on, I’ve got the spare pillow.”

Denki currently didn’t have the energy to feel shame about the sparks excitement that welled up inside of him as he rushed to the sound of you getting on your bed. You held the blanket up for him, and he all but fell down next to you. The pounding of his heart was almost enough to distract him from the acrid burning of his throat.

You were warm, almost too warm as he shifted to be closer to you. Now that his eyes were getting adjusted, he could make out the expression on your face, eyebrows knotted in concern and eyes scanning all over him, as if searching for some sort of answer that he could only long to give you.

“I’m sorry.” He said it as if it meant anything. If it counted, he truly was. Denki didn’t want to make you worry- he wasn’t worth it. But that’s what you did. He would give too much, and you would worry tenfold.

It didn’t help that his eyes were still stinging and red-rimmed, or every once in a while a dry cough would tickle his throat. It didn’t help that he would wince every time he had to swallow, or that his palms were still clammy and he had to try to subtly wipe them on his shorts. It didn’t help that the pain almost became too much to handle, and he loved you too much to even lie about it.

He loved you- of course he did. How could he not? It was you. You, who stared at him with such adoration, even though he knew you were pissed off. You, who stood up for him even to his friends. You, who worried for him the first time he was buzzed out, and a thousand times later, still stayed with him and ran your fingers through his hair when he was barely conscious.

He watched your eyes strain to stay open, to keep watching him as he was watching you. Finally, they fluttered shut, your breathing evening out as you shuffled closer to him.

You, who got up in the middle of the night to protect him from himself.

He tucked your head under his chin, wrapping his arms around you waist with a gentle sigh. Under the cover of darkness, he confessed this. His words fell on deaf ears, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

You, who, unlike anyone else, was determined to make him stop giving.

He couldn’t help but fall asleep, the sound of your soft breathing and the gentle rise and fall of your chest like a lullaby willing his eyes to close, comforted by the presence of your figure cuddled to his chest.

Denki Kaminari was a giver. And if there was anyone worth giving anything, it was you.

Extra:

Bakugo was not expecting to start his day in a chokehold.

It had started off innocently, Denki was playing a game on his phone, smug grin on his face, you were napping next to him, and the other losers he called his friends were on the sofas, eyes wide and backs straight. Sure, you could say he questioned the strange way his friends were acting, but he didn’t particularly care.

“Pikabitch, I need my phone-“

Bakugo prided himself on his quick instincts, but you were quicker.

In a second, your arm was wrapped around his throat, face dark and pressure increasing through his gasps.

“Say one more fucking word and you’re dead.” You growled, Bakugo’s fingers gripping your arm in a vain attempt to release himself from your hold, “Got it?” The blonde just managed to nod, coughing out once your arm withdrew from his neck. You settled back in your place beside Denki, sending him another sharp glare before returning to your nap.

Bakugo could only stare wide eyed, not quite sure what happened. All he could gather was that Denki was now off limits, and the others seemed to realise that too, if them cringing was anything to go by. With a gulp, he stormed out the common room.

Now he had to go get his charger.

[itsallmightbitch]

Hell Week

Where have I been you ask? Recovering from the moment I found out that All Might’s middle finger is 6.2 inches long- that’s where. Jesus Lord I haven’t stopped sweating since.

Pairing: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Choking, Daddy kink, slight Praise kink and semi-public sex. Minors- even though I can’t make you not interact- I can come to your house and tell your mother and I want you to picture how that interaction would go down. I’ll show her your browser history I swear to God-

Word Count: 11,000+ 

Summary: Exam season had finally rolled around at U.A. and had been lovingly dubbed Hell Week by every long suffering member of staff there. All Might didn’t think it would be that bad- until it starts to get in the way of him doing one of his favourite activities. 

Namely you.

*as always, the gif isn’t mine but is oddly appropriate for the story O_O

-

You hated Hell Week but then... so did everyone.

 Those were the first thoughts you had when you stepped into the lecture hall on a sunny Monday morning. Desks upon desks, lined in neat rows, filled the room from front to back- each one with it’s own face down paper on top.

 It was exam season. It was exactly like flu season but with far more suffering.

 There was however, one very faint light at the end of the tunnel and it was the only reason you weren’t hopping a plane to some far away country and hiding there until this was all over. All Might, the big lovable dork, had zero idea of what was about to hit him. He’d only been teaching at UA for just under a year- missing the last exam season but just in time for this one.

 He’d been fucking you just a little bit longer than that but in all the time you’d been seeing him, you’d never brought up just how horrible it was.

 By the time you made it across the room, the door was opening again and sure enough, All Might ducked under the doorway to the lecture hall looking far more put together than he had when you’d left him that morning. You hadn’t had the heart to wake him as he’d sprawled out across your bed- his skinny frame taking up just as much room as his muscular one did.

 He was such a bed hog, you thought, a smile tugging at your lips.

 Looking far too cheerful for this time of the morning- and clearly oblivious about what was to come- he slipped through the desks and headed straight for you. Even though his eagerness to see you made your heart thump harder in your chest, you couldn’t stop the snort of laughter that escaped either.

 He was simply awful at hiding your relationship. The only reason you hadn’t been outed to the whole school yet was because you were a little more restrained than he was. 

Well... that and you told Hizashi to stop fucking prying into your business with such heat in your voice that anyone within earshot had decided to comply too and had left you both alone.

 Still, the fact that Toshinori couldn’t seem to help himself, couldn’t stop himself being near you all the time… it brought to life the butterflies that had made a permanent home in your stomach. So much for it being just sex.

 That had gone out of the window long ago.

 “Good morning,” he rumbled, finally next to you and you grinned up at him affectionately. His tie was crooked- the only indication that he’d woken up a little too late for comfort and slept through the alarm you’d set before you’d left for work. Glancing around, you found that you were alone with him and so you reached up, straightening the knot and smoothing the material flat against his solid chest.

 “Hi,” you answered at long last and it was the only thing you had time to say before his lips found yours for a kiss.

 You melted into it. There hadn’t really been much time for kisses lately. Between hero work and exam week prep, you’d both been exhausted and the only reason he’d even stayed over the night before was because he’d graciously offered to help you mark homework and lighten the load. You’d fallen into bed and slept deeply without even a thought of doing anything else- which was admittedly unusual for you both. Despite long work days and how tired his injury made him, Toshinori was insatiable when it came to you.

 Not that you were bragging or anything but… well. Look at him. You were goddamn blessed.

 “I missed you this morning,” he said, pulling back and looking down at you with those deep, pretty eyes of his. A shiver of lust made it’s way through you and you were suddenly sorry you hadn’t gone through with your plan to wake him up before you’d left. He’d just looked so damn sweet with his face buried in your pillow, snoring softly, that you’d decided to leave him be.

 You graced him with a winning smile.

 “Didn’t want to disturb you,” you said, glancing towards the double doors at the back of the room. You could hear footsteps approaching and you knew he could too, by the way his eyes followed your line of sight seconds later. “You looked like you needed the sleep, baby.”

 He flashed you a grin, his eyebrows raising in an expression you knew all too well. All Might was horny and he wasn’t afraid to let you know about it- despite the sounds of other people getting ever closer. Arousal made your stomach dip low and you shivered involuntarily.

 A big, warm hand curled around your waist and you were suddenly tugged closer until you were plastered against him, your hands pressing flat on his hard chest.

 Oh yeah, you thought smugly. 

This man was hot for you and your eyes mindlessly followed the path his tongue took over his teeth, coming to a stop on the point of his canine. The hand that was on your waist slid lower, to the small of your back and then across the curve of your ass until his fingers slipped ever so lightly to press between your legs.

 The noise you made was highly inappropriate for the workplace but fuck, when he acted like this it drove you to the point of losing any inhibitions you would normally have.

 “I’ll make it up to you tonight, sweetheart,” he said, his voice lowering to that timbre that had talked you into doing absolutely unspeakable things with only a few, encouraging words. “As many times as you want, for as long as you want.”

 You bit your lip, a grin threatening to break through.

 “Oh Toshi,” you cooed, patting his chest sympathetically. He was absolutely oblivious to the horror that was about to hit him square in the face.

 The doors at the top of the auditorium slammed open with a metallic thunk and within seconds you had escaped his grasp to stand at an appropriate distance, laughing inwardly at his puppy dog head tilt. His thick eyebrow quirked in question and you shot him one last pitying look. “You have no idea what you’re in for this week, do you?”

 You almost felt guilty for not elaborating and you had no doubt that he’d get revenge on you in some way, shape or form in the coming months. But for now you left it vague- left him looking confused but unable to question you as Aizawa and Nemuri approached with a line of sullen looking teenagers behind them.

 He wouldn’t have the time or energy to breathe this week, let alone do anything remotely athletic in the bedroom.

 It wasn’t called Hell Week for nothing.

 -

 It was Wednesday. You were tantalizingly close to the end of the week but also far too far away from it.

 Brushing against Toshinori while you passed each other in the aisle- supposedly observing the students as they scribbled away- was the most action either of you had gotten for days now. You didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose exactly, but the big jerk made it a point to touch you every time. Brushing his hand against yours. A palm on the small of your back as he gave way and let you through- so gentlemanly to any observer but the tension in his touch was a dead giveaway.

 The way his eyes darkened and he exhaled impatiently through his nose, almost as though if he opened his mouth he would say something entirely inappropriate. He wasn’t being chivalrous in his head in the least.

 He was thinking about fucking you and hard.

 It eventually got to the point that you couldn’t resist. 

Teasing him was just in your nature and every little innocent touch as your bodies passed so close was driving you insane. So as you passed him by at the back of the room, as far away from prying ears as possible, you whispered-

 “I’m so fucking wet for you right now.”

 - so softly that it could have been nothing at all. He heard you just fine though and you felt his whole body tense like he was being electrocuted.

 You carried on, grinning to yourself smugly as you did and all the while Toshinori stood like a statue- eyes wide and lips parted like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard come out of your mouth. He glanced back at your retreating form, his tongue pressing hard against the inside of his cheek.

 Oh yeah, you had royally pissed him off.

 And turned him on.

 Terribly proud of yourself, you went back to being an excellent teacher and leaned over to help an impatient Bakugo- who had run out of paper for his final question and by the looks of it, fucks to give too. Honestly, same. 

It took a couple of minutes for you to grab some extra paper at the front of the room and reassure the kid that his answer was on the right track, as vaguely as possible of course- so by the time you were about to make another pass of your boyfriend, you’d almost forgotten what you had said the last time.

 He clearly hadn’t.

 “Phone.”

 That was all he said as he passed you, his lips quirking at the corner and by the time you were at the front of the room with your back away from prying eyes, you were itching to know what he’d meant by that.

 You hadn’t felt your phone buzz in your pocket- although you had been distracted up until now and it was likely it had gone off without you noticing. Although you also hadn’t seen Toshi with his phone out either, unless he was being extra sneaky. 

Which at this point, you wouldn’t put past him.

 Sure enough, there it was on your screen. A message notification from ‘The Big Guy’. You smiled and despite your better judgement, you opened it in front of fifty or so quiet, focused students. After all, what could it possibly be other than maybe a little dirty response to what you’d whispered to him earlier?

 When your joined chat opened at last, the noise you made wasn’t human. It caught in your throat and when a few of the kids looked up in confusion, you had to pass it off as a cough before they began to ask questions.

Questions like, why are you turning that shade of red? Or, why did you just make a noise like a dying swan?

 All Might, that lovable, sweet, smiling number one hero, was leering at you from the back of the room- his grin absolutely filthy.

 When you were satisfied that the kids were focused on their exams again, you stared at the picture he’d sent you, face flushing hot.

 When the fuck had he even taken this?

 The photo was taken from a very low angle, his expression in the background much like the one he was wearing right now as he watched you- except his cheeks were a little pinker. He was wearing his hero costume, reclining on what looked like the bed in his apartment with one hand gripping the headboard behind his head.

 The picture of relaxation and innocence.

 Except his outfit was splayed open and his cock was jutting out from it proudly. You could see the fucking precum beading on the head, all shiny in the low light and you were practically drooling over your phone when it buzzed again.

 “Shit-” you hissed, jumping and almost dropping it. That would have been sensational. A picture of All Might’s cock sailing majestically across the floor for all the students to see.

 You hurriedly scrolled down to read what he’d messaged you.

 ‘You looked a little flustered. Everything okay?’

 The bastard had even attached a winking emoji to the end of the text and you were both pissed off that he’d gotten the better of you and impressed that he’d taken such a fucking great nude. Then had the courage to send it to you, whereas months ago he would have chickened out and complained about you seeing the scar across his side.

With embarrassingly shaky fingers you managed to type out a reply, not even able to stay mad.

 ‘Baby, no lie. You should wear every outfit like that’, you responded, chewing on your bottom lip in a vain attempt to keep the smile off your face. ‘Crime would drop to an all time fucking low’.

 Carrying on your route again, you watched him from your peripheral as he innocently took his phone out to read your response, so nonchalant and cocky.

 After a moment of reading, he barked a loud laugh that turned a few heads, before turning pink and muttering an apology to the students he’d just disturbed.

You nudged him playfully the next time you passed each other, winking at him and then feeling incredibly pleased with yourself when he grinned and shook his head- clearly enjoying the moment that had passed between you in full view of everyone.

 But, despite the thrumming sexual tension that crackled between you both for the rest of the day, by the time you got home there was only half an hour in which to change into your hero outfits and stare longingly at each other before going your separate ways for the evening.

 You were taking a fucking vacation this time next year and Nezu, the little sociopath, could pry your holiday hours from your cold, dead hands.

-

 “On your knees. Now.”

 Caught by surprise, you spun around in what you had thought was the empty auditorium- only to come face to chest with your very tall, very haggard looking boyfriend.

 “Huh?” you said stupidly, because the request wasn’t quite what you’d been expecting him to say. Not that you’d expected anyone at all to still be wandering around when the weekend and sweet, sweet freedom was calling.

 It was Friday and the last exam of Hell Week had finished an hour ago- a moment you’d both been looking forward to since the first set of exams had started. In fact, the way the other teachers had all but sprinted past the kids on the way out- you guessed that you and Toshi weren’t the only ones who had been willing this week to end.

 Toshinori had quickly figured out that he was not in for an easy work week as he’d first thought and the mounting pressure of grading papers, comforting stressed teenagers at all hours of the day and attempting to not have a breakdown had taken it’s toll.

 Every night, you’d both crawled into bed at some ungodly hour after midnight, exhausted from grading and the ever persistent hero work that took up a good chunk of your evenings. On top of all that, you knew Toshinori was still sneaking off every lunch time to get in a training session with Midoriya- and not eating anything the entire time either.

 You’d begun to sneak Midoriya lunches to share with his mentor just to make sure your boyfriend was at least getting something through the day and not neglecting himself as he always did.

 Then, you’d been over compensating with dinner and as a result had even less time to do anything remotely relating to a relationship.

 The only time the two of you had been close this week was when you woke up extra early for cuddles and even they couldn’t last long when the alarm would start to blare.

 All that and the pent up sexual tension meant that when Toshi told you to get on your knees with that ravenous look in his eye, your panties were soaking in seconds. However, there was still a little, itty bitty part of you with some common sense left at least and you glanced around the room before giving him a pointed look.

 “Babe, I know this week has been rough but is this really a good idea? What if someone comes?”

 You heard it the moment it left your lips and when you looked at his expression it was full of barely repressed mirth, his shoulders already shaking. He could be so immature sometimes. You rolled your eyes, despite your own smile spreading on your face.

 “Shut up, you know what I mean.”

 “You think anyone, student or teacher is going to want to look at this room again before Monday? The only reason I’m still in it is because all I’ve been thinking about, all day, is you sucking my cock sweetheart. I don’t think I can wait until we get home,” he rumbled in that deep, sexy baritone that he brought out whenever he wanted something from you.

 The one you found it impossible to say no to.

 His fingers trailed over your cheek and he took the moment of weakness in your resolve to swoop down and kiss you hard.

 You’d barely even had a moment to kiss this week and so the second his mouth was on yours, common sense was tied up and gagged. Horny you was now in charge and fuck, your boyfriend was looking fine today.

 It took no more persuasion for you to drop to your knees in front of him and when you looked up at him, impossibly tall as he was, his cheeks were pink and his eyes dark. He probably thought it would have taken a lot more persuasion than that but what could you say?

 Getting dicked down in the school was on your bucket list anyway and right now you imagined that it was hastily being added to his as well.

 “If anyone catches us, I’m leaving the country,” you muttered, taking another cursory glance around. This position was incriminating enough should someone walk in- and you weren’t even doing anything yet. Imagine the scandal if someone caught you blowing All Might- paragon of virtue and strength- in the middle of your workplace.

It was almost enough to make you stand back up again and put a stop to the whole thing but then he went and palmed the very obvious erection that was straining against the front of his pants and all you could suddenly think about was licking him from top to bottom.

 “I won’t let anyone catch us,” he said reassuringly. He pointed to his ear as though you’d forgotten about the whole, excellent hearing thing. You snorted.

 “Toshi, no offence but when we’re in the middle of sex a bomb could go off under the bed and you wouldn’t hear it.”

 He looked momentarily offended before his expression dropped into a sheepish smile, one big hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He knew you were right. Once he got into the zone there was no stopping him. It was kind of sweet, how intense he became. Even if you weren’t playing a game and just having some nice, lazy vanilla sex, he would get all possessive and serious and pull you in close to gaze into your eyes like it was the end of the world-

 You only realized you had spaced out when he spoke again and you snapped back to reality with a rising flush on your face.

 “Heh, I guess you’re right. But I promise, I won’t let anyone sneak up on us. You can count on me,” he beamed down at you and that promise alone was enough to make you relax and nod your consent.

 His tongue swept over his bottom lip as the air in the room suddenly shifted, turning electric and leaving you both buzzing with the knowledge that you were about to do something very naughty.

 Finding out that Toshinori was as kinky as you had been a bit of a shock at first. You’d expected him to be a the kind of guy who was insanely careful with his strength and as a result, gentle in bed. The sort of man who would whisper sweet words of encouragement to you and treat you like a princess the whole time.

 While there were times he did just that, imagine your surprise one night when he’d grabbed the back of your neck and told you to be a good girl and suck his dick. Ever since then, it had been one wild ride with you never quite knowing what he was going to do next.

 Afterwards, he’d quite shyly admitted that he’d never been entirely comfortable with letting anyone see that side of him.

 So he’d kept it hidden just in case.

 You nuzzled your nose against the straining bulge at the front of his pants, whining for him. Toshinori quirked an eyebrow at you, petting your head lazily.

 “Look at you,” he murmured, sounding undone already. “You’re always so eager for Daddy’s cock, huh?”

 It was no secret that it ruined you when he said things like that. Sweet, lovable All Might had an absolutely filthy mouth in bed and it turned you on every time he brought it out. His thick fingers trailed down your cheek, while his other hand slipped his loose tie from his neck with a snap.

 “You know, everything you do turns me on,” he mused, his head cocked to one side as he stared down at you. His voice was like butter and you felt your thighs quiver. “It’s almost as though you know what you’re doing. Do you enjoy it? Knowing that all you have to do is look at me and I’m hard as a rock in seconds?”

 You nodded, a little too eagerly.

 “What are you gonna do about it, Daddy?” you breathed, excitedly. Because you already knew what he was going to do. A muscle in his jaw ticked

This week had royally sucked and there was only one thing that was going to improve it. His mouth quirked at the corner despite the stern demeanour he was aiming for. That mouth had done some damn fine things to you in the past and you didn’t doubt that it would keep going in the future.

A pleasant feeling of wetness spread slowly but steadily between your legs. 

Your lips parted, soft puffs of breath warming the front of his pants. His cock was so close and you wanted it, wanted to take him into your mouth and give him a front row seat to just how much you enjoyed sucking him off.

In public no less.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he soothed, noticing how impatient you were.

Suddenly, the soft silken material of his tie was being wrapped around your throat and knotted. He twisted the other end and wound it around his fist, giving an experimental tug. 

When it tightened ever so slightly, you moaned. It was nowhere near tight enough yet but you could already imagine it digging in and making you choke. Fuck, being choked- controlled like this shouldn’t have sent sparks dashing across every nerve ending- but it did and you tugged back to tighten it a little bit more.

“Better?” he asked and you nodded eagerly, dying to get on with things. The material around your throat was just tight enough to remind you who was in control here and you looked up at him through your eyelashes, pressing an open mouthed kiss against the outline of his cock. 

He grunted, pleased.

“Okay, you know the rules sweetheart. Red if you want to stop. Yellow if you need a second to breathe. Green if everything is fine. What’s our safe word?”

“Toshi,” you breathed, exasperated but not overly so. “I know the safe word. We’re on a time limit here baby.”

“Humour me,” was his firm, no nonsense answer and he gave you a look that meant he wasn’t messing around. He wanted to be sure that you knew it. 

You nodded. You were both experienced enough now that he didn’t really need to repeat the rules every time but it was sweet that he did anyway. Usually he would go above and beyond to make sure you were comfortable when you played like this and despite being on something of a time limit, now was no exception.

It was also just one of the many reasons that the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing had never worked out between you two. He was just too damn good to you. 

Any limits you had tried to impose between each other had quickly dissolved until you were both forced to admit that you wanted more than just sex. Not that you were complaining at all.

A quick, forceful tug on your makeshift leash brought you back to reality and you finally laughed, “Okay, okay! Watermelon.”

It only took a little guffaw on his part to trigger more of your own dumb laughter.

You both giggled to yourselves at the absurdity behind that word- a shared story of absolute shame, embarrassment and too much tequila that must never be told again. Why he’d insisted on it being your safe word you would never know but it was clear by now that you had trouble saying no to him.

He beamed down at you, all starry eyed and you were well aware that you expression mirrored his. Still smiling like a lovesick idiot, you nuzzled against him, nosing at the zipper of his slacks and making an impatient noise.

In a split second, his eyes darkened like he suddenly remembered where you both were. 

Auditorium.

U.A.

A very big possibility of getting caught doing something incredibly naughty. You sobered, partly because of the thrill of danger thrumming through your veins. Partly because the number one hero was staring down at you, tie in hand and looking like he wanted nothing more than to eat you whole.

“So,” he rumbled, voice like thunder in the sky, sounding miles away from his usual cheery self and more like a teacher about to dish out some serious punishment. “Are you going to keep me waiting? I’m getting impatient sweetheart.” 

No, you thought hazily, feeling your knees tremble and your clit throb in time with your racing heart. You would definitely have to do something about that. So you shook your head enthusiastically.

“Good girl,” he praised and you immediately felt a headrush, your fingers clenching tightly in the material of his slacks. “Now, take Daddy’s cock out for him,” he said and the words left no room for argument. Hah. Like you even would. Trailing your fingers across the front of his zipper, you were more than happy to do as he asked.

 You undid the button with shaking fingers and then down came the zip, bit by bit until you could push both sides wide apart. Dipping your hand into his now open pants, you felt his gaze boring into the top of your head- intense and heated as he watched you do as he said. At last, you wrapped your hand around the thick shaft of his cock and tugged him out. He hissed softly as it met the cool air of the room.

 All you could think was finally.

 He was just centimetres away from your face, all thick and solid- the tip leaking beads of precum that drooled down to where your fingers were on him. You wanted to lick them up, taste him on your tongue but you didn’t dare move because he hadn’t told you to yet.

 “Do you want something, sweetheart?” he asked and you felt sudden relief that this wasn’t about to go to waste.

 “Can I lick you? Please,” you managed to say through heavy breaths and a groan caught in his chest. He wasn’t exactly immune to dirty talk and he’d admitted to you once that hearing you talk like that made him hard. Honestly, you didn’t think he could get any harder.

 You could feel the thrum of his blood pumping, making his cock pulse in your hand.

 He gripped himself at the base and you let go, albeit reluctantly, when he tugged on his tie. Moving himself forward a little, he rubbed the head across your lips and you desperately wanted to open up and take him in but you refrained.

 “Mouth open. Tongue out,” he said, his voice strained and you obeyed.

 Red flushed across your cheeks when his gaze trailed over your face and he groaned, fist tightening around the tie in his hand. He rested the head of his cock on your tongue for just a moment, watching the precum continue to bead out- sliding down into your mouth now instead of being wasted.

 You made an impatient noise that, were you both at home with plenty of time, wouldn’t have gone unpunished- but time was of the essence here.

 Sort of.

 “Just admiring the view, princess,” he said after an agonizing moment of simply staying still. Wetness was spreading between your legs, warm and slick and the ache that accompanied it was intense. “You really do look amazing like that.”

 Toshi pressed further into your mouth, revelling in the hot wet heat that welcomed him.

 He was big and you had to relax your jaw a lot to take him inside but you were more than used to it- seeing as one of his favourite activities was watching you go down on him. He kept going until he was barely brushing the back of your throat and he gave himself a squeeze as though to keep himself in check.

 He let go then and trailed his thumb down, across your bottom lip and chin before pulling away completely.

 “Now suck me off,” he ordered, an edge of strain to his voice.

 You did just that, eager to please him. The tie tightened again around your neck- probably involuntarily as you went to town- but it still spurred a strangled moan out of you that vibrated through his cock.

 He grunted your name, his hips bucking. You could tell that he was restraining himself though, considering you hadn’t been thrown clean across the room.

 You hollowed your cheeks and dragged upwards, using the flat of your tongue on the underside of him.

 “That’s it sweetheart,” he moaned. “Just like that. You’re so good for Daddy. So hot,” he said mindlessly, a string of incoherent thoughts just spilling from his lips as he got lost in the pleasure of your mouth. You couldn’t help but feel a little proud that you could put him in this state just with a blowjob.

 “You’re perfect baby,” he sighed, his head dropping back to enjoy the feeling of the hot, wet suction on his cock. You traced a line along the vein that protruded from the length of him with the point of your tongue and saw his thigh muscles twitch hard. 

 Your body sang in response. It had taken you so long to bring him out of his shell at the beginning of your relationship and now here he was- getting sucked off in the middle of an auditorium, singing your praises out loud for anyone to hear.

From convincing him that your age difference didn’t bother you in the slightest, to coaxing him into being a little rougher in bed, it had been a long road, getting him to open up about his likes and dislikes. Getting him to put his trust in you. Making him believe that you wouldn’t laugh, wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t walk away because he had a kink you didn’t like.

 But in the end, all of your kinks had actually aligned.

 Choking, domination, praise-

 The day you’d accidentally called him Daddy for the first time, though… Oh that had been something else.

 You had been riding him on the living room floor, setting an almost punishing pace that would leave you both spent for the rest of the day. Somehow, you had convinced him to keep the curtains open- the thought of getting caught thrilling you down to the bone even though he’d looked intimidated at the implication.

 Although he’d insisted that you be on top and had even smoothed down his hair to try and stay out of sight and that had made you giggle- the thought of the headlines the next day should you get caught.

 Breaking News! All Might’s Dick Just As Big As We’d Expected! Lucky Woman Found Unconscious At Scene!

 Your knees had been red and sore from the rug underneath you but you’d been so mindlessly set on coming that you’d barely noticed.

 His fingers were digging hard into your hips and the moment you’d started bouncing in his lap, his sense of privacy had gone and he was into it- encouraging you to roll your hips, pressing your tits together to push his face between them and spurring you onwards with an absolutely filthy monologue.

 You stood by the fact that it had not been your fault. Especially when he’d started with the whole, ‘you’re such a good girl’ shit. You had been close- so close and he’d been panting your praises and the damn words had slipped out without you meaning them to.

 A broken, stilted sob of-

 “Fu-uck yeah, harder Daddy!”

 You’d continued for another three seconds- full porn star mode activated- until you’d realized what you’d just said and all movement had ceased. Apart from the slow raising of your head to look him in the eye, deer in headlights meets startled rabbit, neither of you made a motion to continue.

 “Um… I- Sorry, it just slipped out,” you’d said sheepishly, body still thrumming from the thrill of saying it out loud and from the orgasm that had been tantalizingly close. He still hadn’t spoken, lips parted as though he wanted to try but was failing spectacularly. “It’s okay if you aren’t into it baby!” you had continued hastily. “If you want we can just forget about it-”

 “No!” he’d said, finally finding his voice at long last. His hips had snapped upwards, rattling your brain and driving his cock inside again with a new, energized rhythm. “No, no, no… Don’t be embarrassed. I liked it,” he’d rumbled, burying his face against your neck, pressing hot, desperate kisses to your skin. “You can say it again if you want.”

 Who the Hell were you to argue with All Might when he was asking you to do that?

 After that, the age difference, the scars he bore, the kinks you both shared- it all felt much more open. There was a newfound easiness to your relationship. You felt like you could share anything with him and vice versa and because of that, you swiftly discovered that Toshinori was kinky as Hell.

 And just as repressed.

 He didn’t dare share those parts of himself before because if they were ever repeated to newspapers or reporters, he would face inevitable ridicule from the general public because he was put on such an untouchable pedestal. It had greatly upset you that because of who he was and what he put on the line every day, he wasn’t allowed to be himself even in private.

But he’d never trusted anyone, he told you then, the way he trusted you.

 At the thought of him saying those words to you, you groaned, mouth full as you slid him inside as far as you could. His head snapped back up to stare at you, his lips parting and a throaty moan slipping out. You rolled back, bobbing your head in an easy rhythm and with each downwards stroke, you took him in further.

 Drool made him slick and shiny and easy to take, but you still had to grip his thigh for support the further you went. Once again, the tie around your throat tightened. It was just tight enough now to start making itself known- start to be worrying but the mere feel of it was making your clit throb painfully between your legs.

 You wanted more.

 You wanted him to choke you with it.

 Breathing through your nose now, you let your throat relax and finally took him in as far as you were physically capable. Your wish abruptly came true and the feeling of the head of his cock pressing down the back of your throat, coupled with the tightness of the tie, made you gag around him.

 Toshinori swore, loudly, half in pleasure and half in concern.

 But when he made to pull out of your mouth, the hand that had been gripping his thigh found his ass instead and you refused to let him go. You made a noise of protest and he stopped moving altogether, his stuttering hips trying desperately not to buck into you and make it any worse.

 You had to make a conscious effort to ignore your gag reflex, dropping your head forward to take him in again- albeit a little more carefully than before. Just before he could hit the back of your throat, you slowed down to a crawl, working him in further without making your body panic.

 The sensation wrenched a full body shiver from him, his breath heaving in his broad chest.

 “That’s my girl,” he praised fervently, his cheeks hot and the muscles in his abdomen fluttering and twitching. “You’re the best little cocksucker ever, aren’t you darling?” You absolutely would have answered if your mouth wasn’t currently occupied. His words were turning you on, making you desperate for an orgasm but your hands were far too busy on him to think about touching yourself.

 He would take care of you later, no doubt. So for now, you concentrated on bringing him to the edge.

 Now, usually you weren’t one to blow your own horn but in this case, you would openly and quite proudly admit that you had a knack for getting him off. Especially with your mouth. You’d never given a blowjob with quite as much enthusiasm as you did when it was with him and it was like he knew that.

 He was panting softly, his chest rising and falling above you and making the already straining buttons of his shirt even tauter as his muscles flexed.

 Such was your enjoyment of his reactions that the fact that you kept choking on the tip of his cock was only a mild inconvenience. He tasted hot and salty on your tongue, precum mixing thickly with your saliva and escaping from the corner of your mouth.

 He grit his teeth, a growl half mingled with a moan dragged from his throat at the sight.

 He caught it halfway down your chin with a swipe of his thumb and then tugged on the tie around your neck. Reluctantly, you released him- silently proud of the slick, dark pink throbbing mess that you’d left him in. Your jaw ached, yeah, but it wasn’t unbearable and it quickly eased now that he wasn’t in your mouth any more.

 You parted your lips in anticipation of his thumb- assuming he wasn’t going to let you waste anything.

 “Uh-uh, lips closed sweetheart.”

 You raised your eyebrows, amused at his hungry expression and did as he said. But not before biting your bottom lip, dragging your teeth over it to leave it redder than it had been. His shoulders dropped when he heaved a pleased, wanting sigh.

 “Absolute tease,” he murmured fondly, before smearing the come and saliva across your closed lips to make them shiny.

 Before he could move his hand away, your tongue darted out to catch him and he humoured you instead of giving you a warning tug on the tie. He pressed his thumb between your waiting lips- still sticky with precum and saliva and the groan that he released when you swirled your tongue around him was sinful.

 A full body tremor ran from your toes to your fingertips and he noticed- because this was All Might and he noticed everything. His lips tugged upwards in a devastatingly attractive smirk- the kind you would see on a villain’s face in the heat of battle. 

It was so unusual, but fuck did it look good on him.

 Your palms flattened on his muscular thighs, sliding upwards and drinking in the warmth radiating from him under your fingertips. More than anything you wanted to pull his pants down further- feel his skin under your hand but he was calling the shots and you didn’t dare. There was also the fact that if anyone were to walk in they would get an eyeful off his bare ass and no-one was allowed that privilege but you.

 He smoothed his fingers across your cheek, cupping your face in his massive hand and tilting your head up to look at him. Honestly, you must have looked like a disaster zone.

 Cheeks red with arousal, practically panting, lips parted in anticipation.

 That only seemed to turn him on more. His eyes flashed with lust and his tongue darted out and what you wouldn’t give right now to be able to read his mind. When he took his hand away to grip the base of his cock, you whined pathetically. You didn’t really know what you wanted though and right now you didn’t have the words to actually vocalize it either.

 Did you need to come? Absolutely.

 Did you also need to have his cock back in your mouth? Yes, with a capital Y.

 Not to mention the tie was going a little slack and you were beginning to miss the tightness around your throat. A thought quickly crossed your mind that made you clench your thighs, shivering under the pulse of arousal that washed over you. You wanted his hand around your throat instead.

 Toshinori cocked his head to the side, still stroking himself.

 You tugged on his pinstripe slacks and then pitched forward to press an open mouthed kiss against the shaft of his cock- sloppily almost missing and kissing his fingers too. You were shaking, trembling with the sweet ache and you desperately needed something to take the edge off.

 “Colour?” he asked, tugging you away gently by the tie.

 “Yellow,” you breathed, clit throbbing with tension that you couldn’t do anything about and your body tightly thrumming.

 He seemed genuinely surprised by your choice, though the silken material around your throat went slack almost immediately and he took a swift step away from you- giving you the space that you didn’t actually want. All you really wanted was an opportunity to talk openly.

 “Are you alright?” he asked, concern lacing his tone as he took in your dishevelled state- as though he was seeing what he’d done to you clearly for the first time. “Is the tie too tight? Do you need some water or-”

 You waved him off with your hand, trying to catch your breath long enough to actually speak. Your throat was dry sure, but not for the reason he was thinking. Goddamn this man and the things he did to you- whether he meant them or not.

 “No- No Toshi,” you answered, breathlessly, chest heaving. “I’m fine, I just- Please, I want your hand instead of the tie.”

 The only indication that he was surprised by the request was a quirk of his eyebrows.

 “Oh,” he snorted softly, his cock bobbing back and forth with every movement he made. Your gaze zoned in on it, lips parting almost expectantly despite still being on a momentary time out. “You had me worried there for a second. I thought you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

 “You know me better than that, Toshi,” you admonished, tugging at his slacks again. When he didn’t move, a pleading whine caught in your throat.

 “M’ waiting sweetheart,” he sing-songed lightly and you shivered from head to toe as the game began again. The tie drew taught, almost too quickly as his excitement got the better of him. A strangled gasp cut off in the air as you looked up at him, wondering how he seemed so composed while you were basically reduced to pieces on the floor.

 “Please, Daddy,” you pouted, impatient but still willing to give him what he wanted.

 The words and the sight of you, basically begging on your knees, urged him into action and any further teasing he might have been considering was abandoned. You both needed to come, that much was clear and drawing it out any longer wasn’t helping either of you.

 Long, powerful fingers curled around your throat and your pussy throbbed as though an electric current had passed between you both. Granted, from the way he was staring at you as he ducked down to reach you, it might as well have.

 You were pliant and easily led, rising to your feet with the barest hint of a tug. You wrapped a hand over his wrist to steady yourself, thrilled when as usual, your fingers didn’t stand a chance of meeting around it.

 He squeezed and your legs quivered, a tremble wracking your thighs.

 His other hand had abandoned the tie now and instead swept up over your thigh as he walked you backwards. You hit the desk with a bump but Toshinori didn’t give you more than a second to get your bearings. He leaned past you and despite the mess you would have to clear up before you both went home, he swept one big arm across the surface of the desk to clear it for you.

 Everything scattered in a wide arc but you were much too busy lifting yourself up to sit on the edge, your boyfriend’s fingers tightening ever so slightly around your neck. His hand was so damn big that his fingers actually met around the circumference and knowing that did little to quell the heat in your belly.

 “Baby,” you muttered needily but Toshi was already sweeping forward to kiss you- all tongue and teeth and he really didn’t seem to care that you probably tasted of his own cock right now because the way his tongue pressed and licked at your own was almost obscene.

 You were, officially, a disaster zone of a human being.

 Toshi squeezed again and you broke away from his kiss with a choked moan of desperation. The week long drought had finally, finally broken you.

 “Please,” you whined. “Please, please, please-”

 He was already unbuttoning your jeans, thick fingers fumbling on the button and zipper until at last you batted his hand away and did it yourself, ignoring his chuckle at how eager you were. His cock jutted proudly from his open pants and his shirt had come untucked at some point that you couldn’t remember but it gave him a dishevelled, ‘just fucked’ look that was doing things to you.

 Not that there was much more to be done.

 The whole thing was reminding you of the picture he’d sent you two days ago and what you wouldn’t have given to have been there that time too.

 He let go of your neck briefly to help you out of your jeans and panties, stripping you from the waist down.

 A moment later and his hands went in two different directions.

 One cupped between your legs, forcing them apart as he dipped his two middle fingers between the lips of your pussy. A breath caught in his chest. You had been soaking wet ever since he’d told you to get on your knees for fuck’s sake. The other hand, to your relief, went right back where you wanted it to be.

 He pressed you backwards on the now empty desk until your back level with the surface and you were staring up at the ceiling. You were almost vibrating in anticipation, hitching your knees up to rest on his hips and locking your ankles at the small of his back.

 Toshi hovered over you, all solid muscle and wolfish grin and you almost leaned up for a kiss before remembering that doing so would lead to you choking under his hand. You hadn’t had sex with him in this muscular form for a while now and sometimes you forgot just how fucking strong his grip was.

 Instead, you rolled your lower body upwards to encourage him to move and in doing so, accidentally rubbed yourself on his fingers.

 The sudden jolt of pressure against your clit went straight to your head and much to your utter shame, you mewled like a goddamn kitten. You made a fucking noise that sounded so pathetic it almost made you throw your hands up and put a stop to the whole thing.

 He was staring at you, eyebrows raised and eyes wide.

 “Not a word!” you warned, game forgotten for a moment- along with any urgency you might have had over being in public like this. “We are never, ever speaking of that again,” you muttered, face flushed with mortification when he opened his mouth to speak. “If I ever make a noise like that again, I want you to throw me into the sun- Oh fuck!”

 Toshinori, was now beaming from ear to ear, smug that he’d drawn it out of you.

 He very clearly disagreed with the verdict you’d given and once again, he dragged the pads of his thick fingers upwards to circle your clit lazily- and anything else that was about to come out of your mouth morphed into a pleased moan.

 “Ah, ah, ah, kitten,” he said and you scowled at him despite the throbbing, delicious pleasure he was currently providing you. You supposed that the flush on your face and the little pants you were letting out did nothing to make you seem intimidating. “I think that that was one of my favourite noises ever. Think I can make you make it again?” he asked, nuzzling between your breasts and your hardened nipples tingled against the fabric of your bra.

 “You’d better fucking not-” you tried to say.

 But all of a sudden, Toshi’s hand tightened around your throat and you gasped as he loomed over you. His fingers began to move in tight, fast little circles- the kind he would use when he wanted you to come quickly and you could already feel the building tension in your thighs and stomach as he glanced between you both to see what he was doing.

 He licked his lips and breathed out an appreciative sigh at the sight, squeezing your throat again.

 “Listen to Daddy, kitten,” he repeated, all no nonsense because apparently the game had begun again and hooray for you because you were absolutely about to win. “Because that wasn’t a request. Now, what do we say?” he asked and then dipped his fingers low and inside you, making the words you’d managed to get out break in the middle.

 “Yes! Y-es, Daddy!” you choked out, eyes watering as he fucked you with his fingers. God, the stretch was fantastic. He didn’t hold back either, keeping an almost punishing rhythm that had you gasping for air.

 He curled them ever so slightly and you shuddered, hips jerking upwards in a desperate attempt to either get closer or relieve the pressure. You had no idea which because his hand was choking you tightly enough that the only real thoughts in your head were badly strung together swear words.

 “That’s what I like to hear,” he hummed, pleased and for the second time today, he ran his tongue across his teeth and grinned at you. Even though most thoughts were being railed out of your head at an amazing speed, you did manage to notice that he was beginning to look a little desperate himself- despite the cool, calm demeanour he was presenting.

 You clenched your muscles around his fingers experimentally and sure enough, his jaw tightened- smile gone and his eyes predatory.

 “Since we’re in public, there isn’t enough time to do all the things I want to do to you… But we can make do, sweetheart, can’t we?” he asked and you nodded. You didn’t care what kind of marathon you were signing up to later as long as he kept going right now and did. Not. Stop.

 Then his fingers were gone and the fat head of his cock was parting your pussy, bearing down to push inside you. You arched you back as you cried out and Toshi shushed you sweetly, although he kept the grip on your neck firm so that you wouldn’t move around too much.

 Knowing that these hands could hit hard enough to level a city block only served to make you wetter than you already were and the pressure of his cock pushing into you was leaving you breathless. You made another pathetic noise- still stretching around him as he pressed on further.

 “Colour, kitten?” he asked suddenly, eyeing your absolutely wrecked expression.

 “Green! Green, baby please!” you bucked, trying to take him in faster. Toshinori snorted and held you firmly- despite your protest and plea for him to hurry things along. You might be well practiced in taking his cock, but that didn’t mean it didn’t require a good amount of preparation and it wasn’t something he was willing to just rush.

 He didn’t care if someone walked in and you had to stop altogether. He refused to let you get hurt just because you were both too eager to do this safely.

 On the other hand, you were holding onto his wrist for dear life with both hands, your fingers digging in and urging him to go faster.

 Splaying his free hand wide across your belly, Toshi held you still and with a short sharp thrust he finally felt the head of his cock push inside you. You made a noise of extreme satisfaction and now it was just a matter of slowly inching himself in bit by bit. He did so, as slowly as he could stand until he felt like you were at your limit.

 You were shaking, because if he didn’t move in the next three seconds you were going to move for him. Fuck the game at this point, he was teasing you to the point of absolute madness-

 Toshi watched your face as he pulled out and thrust back in, easy and slow to begin with. Your reaction was instantaneous.

 You cried out, hips rolling and one hand sliding up along his arm to grip what you could of his bicep. He smirked and did it again, loving the way your head pressed back against the wood and how fucking amazing his hand looked around your throat.

 You were on a whole other goddamn planet right now.

 Breathing was getting slightly difficult but not impossible and if you tapped his arm twice he would know to lighten up. You weren’t at your limit yet though and so you simply touched him where you could reach, needing the heat of his skin beneath your palms.

 His hand tightened again as he groaned, loudly and sinfully- like this was the most religious experience he’d ever had. Your vision blurred for a moment and the pressure in your stomach was twisting, winding tighter and tighter until it was dangerously close to snapping.

 Your whole body was lighting up, nerve endings firing and Toshi was now picking up the pace of his thrusts. He was still keeping them steady but his tempo increased, and the slick warmth between your legs was making your head spin. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen-

 Fuck, you needed to breathe.

 You tapped his arm twice and his grip immediately lessened, eyes flashing towards your face in concern. But as you’d agreed on, he didn’t stop fucking you or remove his hand from your neck. That would have been three taps- and you were nowhere near fucked out enough for that yet.

 You sucked in a full breath, glad for the oxygen.

 “Okay baby?” he asked, leaning over you to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You nodded, finding the perfect opportunity to thread your fingers through the hair on the back of his head. Such were the perks of having an absurdly tall boyfriend. He could comfortably fuck you and lean over to kiss you at the same time.

 He sighed into the kiss, hips snapping forward and you bit down on his bottom lip- before sucking it lightly. Toshi made a noise of pleasure but it was drowned out by your keening cry when he reached down to rub at your clit again.

 “Tighter again?” he asked after a moment of letting you catch your breath and you nodded eagerly, mouth falling open as he applied the pressure in increments. Bit by bit he strengthened his grip and you watched, fascinated as the muscles in his arm flexed while he did.

 He stopped moments before it became too much. The whole time he’d been carefully and precisely finding the sweet spot around your throat, he’d been keeping a steady pace between your thighs. He wasn’t bottoming out- having not really had the time or space to really prepare you for that absolutely magnum task.

 So you both settled for shallower thrusts, keeping the pace quick as you raced to the edge.

 Toshi was panting against your shoulder and your inner muscles were fluttering around him, almost there. So close it was killing you. If he slowed down right now, you were going to kill him. Thankfully, he seemed to be all out of fucks to give and he smirked when your nails dug into his wrist, baring his teeth and sinking them into your shoulder.

 You bucked almost painfully hard, a choked, cut off cry of his name leaving your lips. He let go, laving the bite with his tongue thoughtfully, soothing the sting. The thumb of the hand that was around your throat was rubbing up and down your jawline, gently reminding you not to get too carried away.

 But you were so close to coming right now that your attention was elsewhere- chasing the pleasure he was giving you with a one track mind. His whole upper body was covering yours now and the hand you had buried in his hair trailed down so you could hook your arm around his back.

 Palm flat, you took a second to appreciate the roll of his muscles under his shirt.

 He nuzzled you, forehead pressing against the side of your head and his mouth close to your ear so you could hear every shaky, barely held together inhale and exhale.

 “So good, sweetheart. You’re such a good girl,” he said and you squeezed your knees into his sides to let him know that you appreciated his praise. A lot. If there was one way to get you to do anything it was to call you a good girl and Toshinori knew and exploited that fact all the damn time. “You want to come? Yeah?” he asked as if it wasn’t obvious from the absolute state of you underneath him.

 He squeezed when you didn’t answer and you managed a pathetic-

 “Yes please Daddy.”

 -that was hoarse and pleading and fuck, please, please, please was all you could think. You needed to come. You had needed it all fucking week and that picture that he’d sent you had nearly stopped your heart on the spot. It was all you’d thought about for hours at a time.

 He was all you’d thought about.

 “I’m close too, kitten,” he huffed out, raising himself up on one forearm so he loomed over you again. “Tighter?” he asked again and you nodded as best you could, feeling his hips pick up speed even more. This was it. He choked you as tight as you could handle without tapping out and thrust forward at such an angle that he managed to brush against your clit at long last.

 The result was instantaneous.

 Your orgasm whited you out. It spread from your fingers to your toes and hit every nerve with a fucking baseball bat on the way down. If no-one knew what was going on in here before then they would definitely know now- considering you had just screamed Toshinori’s name loud enough to be heard across town.

 Between your garbled sobs and pleading and moans of his name mixed with obscenities, Toshi was barely holding on to himself. The strong contraction of your muscles around his cock was suddenly too much and he lost the battle to see you through to the end of your orgasm.

 He groaned, long and low when his balls tightened and he came- panting your name as his hips jerked repeatedly. You could feel the tremble in his muscles between your legs and the sweet, fulfilling sensation of him filling you up.

 He wasn’t as deep as he would normally be though and the result was a mess, your mixed come dripping out around his cock and down your ass- pooling on the table below.

 His forehead dropped to the wood beside you as you both slumped at the same time, utterly exhausted.

 “How are you holding up princess? You alright?” he asked after a long moment of simply breathing in time to yours- noticing the way your eyes were shut and your breathing was still hard.

 Opening your eyes at last, you smoothed your hand across the broad plane of his back, scratching your nails in a soft line between his shoulder blades. His whole body trembled again- both from little aftershocks and the fact that he was nearing his limit on holding this form.

 “Alright?” you snorted. “Alright? Are you kidding me, Toshinori? I’m pretty sure that I’m not walking out of here. At least… not in a straight line.”

 Your laughter was infectious and he joined in, the pair of you giggling like teenagers, exhausted and spent and covered in various fluids. You would have been content to lay there like that with him at home, keeping him inside you while you played with his hair and gave him massive heart eyes. But it was quickly dawning on the both of you that hanging around in the open like this any longer was definitely going to get you caught.

 Toshi groaned when he pulled out of you and stood up straight, rubbing his back. He grumbled something under his breath about ‘getting old’ and you managed to lift your head to look at him- incredulous.

 “Yeah, I’m pretty sure old guys don’t fuck like you do baby,” you informed him smugly, absolutely loving the way his cheeks flushed as though he hadn’t been choking you and calling himself ‘daddy’ not five minutes before. This man was a study in fucking opposites sometimes and it only endeared him to you even more.

 He groaned when he twisted from side to side and you took pity on him, despite not being able to move much yourself.

 “Babe, why don’t you just change back now? You have to be exhausted.”

 He shot you a grateful look and then did just that- a blast of air and smoke and there he was in all of his skinny glory- dwarfed in a suit that was now ten times too big for him. Considering that his pants were still splayed open at the top, gravity dictated that they almost immediately fall down to his ankles.

 “Damn,” he huffed and glared down at them, unamused at both that and your resulting laughter.

 “There’s no way I can bend down for those,” he said, face absolutely deadpan and despite the ache in your whole damn body, you were wracked with giggles as he stared forlornly at his pants. He glanced over at you, content to lay there for a moment longer while he worked out his dilemma. “Little help?”

 “Oh, Daddy, there’s no hope of that. My legs are done. Anyone could walk in right now and I wouldn’t give a shit,” you explained, raising the only part of you that wasn’t all fucked out. You lifted your head and grinned at him- his expression amused and exasperated in equal measure. “Besides, I need to get my breath back.”

 He laughed, short and sharp and finally found the energy to bend at the waist and pull his pants up. He had to tighten the belt as much as he possibly could to make them stay put, but eventually they complied and he wandered over to you- holding your panties and jeans in one hand.

 He dangled them over your head and you managed a lazy grab, giggling again as he pulled them out of your reach.

 Then his eyes flickered down to your throat and he frowned suddenly, reaching out to rub gently over the redness he’d left behind. You were still quite content to sag back against the desk, knowing that when you moved at last it would mean cleaning up the mess you had both made of the hall.

 “Are you sure you’re okay? I know you like being choked sweetheart but I’m always worried that I overdo it,” he said, concerned as he always was after a particularly intense session. Your expression softened at the way he worried, feeling a wave of affection for him.

 You really wouldn’t have him any other way. No one worried about you like he did.

 You caught his hand in yours and brought it to your lips to kiss his palm.

 “I loved it and I love you and I had a great time.”

 His expression changed in an instant, a winning smile gracing his skinny features and you returned it without even thinking.

 “Love you too sweetheart,” he responded softly and you gave his hand one last kiss before finally summoning the energy to stand at long last. Using the desk behind you for support, you tiredly shimmied back into your pants while your boyfriend went about gathering the papers that had been strewn around the floor.

 It was only when you glanced at him after a moment, did it dawn on you what he was holding. What you’d almost been fucked on top of.

 The exam papers.

 The now messy, out of order, exam papers.

 Hell Week had struck again and when Toshinori caught your eye, he immediately paused in what he was doing to look down at the papers in his hand too.

 “Oh,” he said after a long, long moment of staring at them blankly. “Well fuck.”

[sweetsbfreex]

a father’s duty

Summary: brought to u by the wholesome picture of Cevans sewing up dodger’s stuffed lion 🤧

Warnings: Talk of trauma (nothing too in depth) and talk of sex

Pairings: Dad, Husband!Ransom x reader

-

You and Ransom were cuddled up together on the couch, some random movie he had chosen that you weren’t paying attention to. You wanted to cuddle, but he insisted on watching this movie so a compromise had to be made. And the feeling of his hand going up and down, inside your shirt, against your arm; Could only make you purr in contentment.

And you were meant to doze off if it wasn’t for the dramatic, high pitched scream of pure agony. You both shot up from your seats, looking at each other wide eyed before dashing up the stairs (Ransom ahead). 

Until you were in the doorway of an overly purple room.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

Ransom let a small, stunned gasp at the feel of a teary eyed four year old, Celeste bolting to his legs. Her small arms had tried to wrap around his legs as she sobbed into his jeans, fists tight as she clutching the denim. 

Confused you had leant down adjacent to her, Ransom peering down from his stance, lifting her arms to softly run circles over her back. 

“What’s wrong baby?” a fake pout on your lips.

“She’s dead!” she had sobbed, her puffy cheek making contact with his expensive jeans to make eye contact with you. 

“What? Who’s dead babe?” Ransom asked, tilting his head downward, eye brows stitched together. 

She propped her chin up against his leg, “Daffy” she blubbered, extending her arm behind her to point at the limp stuffed bunny a few feet away.

“Fucking––” He couldn’t finish his sentence a hearty laugh emitted into the otherwise somber air, still laughing (some tears streaking his face) he had picked up the once blubbering girl so she saddled on his hip. 

“Ransom! It’s not funny and language, god”

“C'mon” he dragged the n, “You gotta admit this is hilarious, she’s so dramatic...I wonder who she gets it from” he smirked, looking at you knowingly. 

“You” you appointed, holding back your smile. 

“As if” he scoffs rolling his eyes. 

“Daffy!” Celeste exclaimed, snapping the two from their loving trance. 

“Right!” you snapped yourself back into mom mode, making way to Daffy and your way back to the two, watching Ransom wipe the tears from Celeste’s face, calming her down in a hushed voice.

You sidle up next to Ransom lifting the stuffed animal, so the both of you could evaluate the state of her favorite buddy. You looked up to him, watching his face scrunch up, almost like disgust, but you knew he was just very confused.

“Jeez leste, what’d you do?” 

The light yellow bunny up front was perfectly fine, but once you had turned it around a tear in the fabric of the it’s “spine” was parted, the thread poking out along the hem. 

“I–– I was just spinning her around”

“Is that really what you did” you prompted.

“No..” she set forward shyly, resting her temple against her father’s shoulder. “There was a string and then I pulled it by accident”

“By accident?” Ransom asked, eyebrows raised. 

“On purpose” she mumbled, eyes tearing up slowly.

Celeste is probably the biggest liar the two of you know. You both have been working on that habit, reassuring her that it was fine and being honest is better most times (minus surprises, safety, etc). You both had even resorted to acting out examples for her. She was getting better, but ever the fibber she still found a way to slip into the habit. And when you had asked her why exactly she loved lying, she only replied with a quib “It’s fun!” giggling to herself. 

“Hey it’s okay, you were curious” he cooed, “Mommy will fix it don’t worry” 

You looked up at him mesmerized, not so surprised at the father he was becoming. Remembering all those nights he had kept the two of you up, even the day you were in labor, he had been worried. How was he ever supposed to love a kid properly–– let alone his–– when he never had that benefit. All these what ifs running through his head in a cycle.

He had even taken it upon himself to sign you both up for those parenting classes. The ones with the fake dolls. Dolls that he held gently as if they were alive.

“I will. You’ve had a long day, love, you wanna go to bed now?” you asked her, smiling. 

She nods silently, reaching her hands out to you. Ready for the familiar night routine to begin.

––––

After Celeste had been put to bed, it was not you and Ransom being the only two up. You were both in your shared bathroom, getting ready for bed. 

You groaned, catching the attention of Ransom. “Sewing that thing is gonna be some work” watching yourself in the mirror as you rub in your lotion. 

“You’re tying that thing together, how hard can that be?”

“I’m sewing it together” 

“Tomato, Tomahto” he responded. 

“Fine, since you think it’s so easy why don’t you fix it for her?” 

“Deal. I’ll take another night of anal as my end” he says this confindently, not expecting another word for you, as he saunters past you briskly but not before placing a kiss to your check and a rough smack to the ass. 

Ransom.

–––––

And god did he take this seriously. Making sure you were up this entire time as he achieved his new level of domesticity. 

And you did, sitting up against the headboard as you watched him sit shirtless across the sized room. 

He sits in the barrel chair. the stuffed animal in his lap, a spool of light pink thread to match the bunny in between his legs, and a packet of needles in his hand. 

“Babe you have to––”

He holds up a hand, stopping you from saying whatever you were about to say.

“I got this babe” he tells you, looking at you wearily as he pulls up a video (‘how to sew stuffed bunny animal together’) on his phone. 

You watch him watch the video,switching the show you were watching to make it seem as if you weren’t watching him too carefully. 

He squints, focused as he listens to the lady in the video.

“You look so cute”

“Thanks” he grumbles, placing a thimble on his pointer finger. 

He was like a cute grandmother. His eyebrows brought together and tongue poking through his cheek, which you teased him endlessly about. There was just something about watching a brawly, grumpy man like him knit. So you pulled your phone out wanting to take a quick picture. 

“Put. it. down.” he tells you, not even looking away from his task.

“Wha–– You’re really creepy, you know that. Smile” you demand of him. “It’d be so cute for the album”

He of course doesn’t smile instead raising the stuffed animal to cover his face from the camera, but you were quick enough to get something before that. Smiling fondly at the adorable photo of his concentrated face. Once you had your fill of serotonin, you closed the device and reached over to set it on your nightstand. 

“You gonna give me a kiss goodnight before you go?” he asks you stoically, head still looking down at his task. 

“Yes Ransom. Just give me a minute’ you respond, shimmying yourself from the soft sheets. You make your way besides Ransom–– naturally he wraps one arm around your waist to bring you–– leaning down and placing a kiss to his cheek (which he smiles at) then his lips. He pulls back first only to return again for a deeper one. Sending you off, finally, with a pinch to your ass. 

“Goodnight, Baby” you tell him over your shoulder on your way back to the bed. 

“Night y/n/n.”

–––––

“y/n” is whispered in your ear and the shaking of your shoulder is what causes you to wake up. You turn your head over your shoulder to see Ransom standing over you gleefully. 

“Ransom?” you rasp, turning your whole body over to face him, looking at the clock on your night stand. “It’s two in the morning!”

“Thanks captain obvious” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Yet, he lifts up the stuffed animal. Both hands on either paws, holding it up to show you. “I finished!”

You instantly noticed the band-aid wrapped around his thumb and the brightest smile on his face. Through it you could see how proud of himself he really was. He really was getting a hand of this dad thing he was still figuring it out. 

Ransom, however, could only think about how tired he was and how strained his eyes felt––probably rimmed red. With the amount of times he had to rewatch the video because he missed or didn’t understand a step. But, for his little girl it was definitely worth it. 

“Well, look at you. You did so good bub” you extend your arm up lazily to then loop it around his neck, bringing him down for a kiss. 

If only his conceited friends could see him now. Thinking about how Danver, one of the many friends he had dropped, would berate him passively. Calling it a women’s role most likely. 

“Thank you” he settles one more kiss, “Let’s go”

“Go where?” you chuckle

“Leste’s room...where else? She’ll need him to sleep the rest of the night comfortably” he explains, removing your arm from his neck. To gently tug your hand.

“You sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Hundred percent, let’s go”

––––

You open the door slowly, the creaking sound it emitted making you cringe. And when you’re hushed by Ransom, you twist around instantly sending him a stink eye.

And you both stand against the side of her bed, you crouch down. Raising your hand to her shoulder. 

“Lesty” you whisper, your thumb running circles over her shoulder. 

She wakes up slowly, as always. The clear indication that she is awake being when she raises her hand to rub at her eyes.

“Mommy? She stops and gasps, “Are we going to Disney?” asking the question with glee, she sits up, her hands placed over her book patterned pajama pants.

You and Ransom share a short laugh. Remembering how you surprised her just like this months ago. The frown that overtakes her face makes you both want to laugh. 

“I’m going back to sleep” she tells you both, already reaching for her blanket. 

“Wait” you laugh, holding her hand. “There's a surprise for you” 

At your announcement, Ransom steps up holding out the sewed up stuffy. Her tiny hands covered the gasp she let out, muffling it.

“She’s fixed!” she’s astonished, running her fingers  along the stitches. 

Celeste felt like a jumping bean with all this happiness filling her body and she wasn’t sure how to express how happy she felt. So, she jumped onto her mother, arms latched onto her neck. Kissing her cheek incessantly.

“Thank you thank you thank you-”

“Actually––” you start.

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” ever the dramatic, “Momma didn’t do this. I did babe” he tells her, a gobsmacked, playful expression on his face. 

Ransom’s replica quickly unlatched herself from y/n, rocketing herself into his arms. He held onto her tightly. Falling in love with the toothy smile–– albeit it was missing a front one–– she gave him. He was rolling around in her appreciation towards his gesture. This was all he wanted. To be a better man for you to marry and be a better father for his daughter.

He brought her into him a little bit, placing a kiss to her forehead. 

“Anything for you Leste” he tells her in a hush. 

You rise slowly from your crouch, knees a bit sore from how long you were down there. Just in awe of the love they both exerted towards each other. Ransom’s hand lightly flying over the back of her head and Her tiny palm coddling his cheek.

“Time for bed?” you ask the two of them, your hand naturally going to Ransom and Celeste’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m tired” she tells you, dragging out the h. Setting her cheek to her dad’s muscled shoulder. Nuzzling her cheek against it lazily. 

“Yeah? Well let’s put you in bed first” Ransom responds. 

You walk behind the two, as Ransom sets her down gently on her bed.

He sets a kiss to her cheek then he pulls back, watching the way her arms tighten around the stuffed animal. 

“You love it?” he asks, a proud smile etched on his face. 

“Yes” she whispers, “Thank you, daddy” her palm caressing the top of it’s head. 

“Anything for you Leste” he reaffirmed. He needed her to know that he’d do anything. Anything. To keep a smile that bright on her precious face. He didn’t want her to doubt if he ever loved her or if she could ever come to him about anything. He especially didn’t want her to think that she’d be second to his work. 

He loved her too much and decided, right when you told him the news, he’d learn from his parents’ mistakes and trauma he had to deal with. 

“Goodnight, honey”

He gets up from his spot watching you lean over placing a kiss to her cheek, tugging the crocheted blanket to Celeste’s chin. 

“Night baby” you tell her sweetly.  

“Night” she replies to the both of you before snuggling into the duck more. 

––––

RIght when you shut the door, you expect to face Ransom’s back walking towards your bedroom. But try not to scream, startled, when your head meets with his chest.

You look up, probably not the smartest thing to do. “You ready for bed?” you ask nervously, each hand landing on his broad shoulders. 

With the way he was looking at you, you would assume you were the last stash of biscoff cookies he always keeps fully stored in the house. Especially, with the other Drysdale in the house, the cookies went by faster when they used to.

“Don’t think so..We made a bet. Remember?” he smiles

“RIght now?!” you hiss lowly. He must have lost his mind. “You woke me up at like three in the morning”

“It was actually two” you whack his arm at his smart mouth, of course he doesn’t react.  “Anyway. A bets a bet. Let’s go baby” he crouches down, lifting you up swiftly into a bride-groom like position.

“Ransom!” you whisper, taken by surprise. 

“A quickie and then we’ll drop her off at your parents tomorrow to get to the real stuff tomorrow” he asserts.

With that, he picks up his speed. Taking you both down the hallway. Once he’s arrived at his destination–– the bedroom–– he throws you on the bed. Laughing to himself with how stricken you look. You should be used to this by now, he tells himself. 

“Ransom!” is the last of his name he hears with a tone of scolding mixed with shock, before he gets to work. When he climbs on top of you quickly––like a lion to prey––biting your neck. 

-

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[reidyoulikeabook]

the battery was dead

Ship: GN! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mention of case-typical violence (more specifically, a bomb), told from Spencer's perspective and he experiences anxiety about reader having been harmed (they're okay though!), Spencer's self-deprecating thoughts, general mood of anxiety throughout, stressful team situation, big feelings of guilt, very much hurt/comfort.

Word count: 1.6k (i did not intend for this to be this long but it's basically a whole thing)

A/N: This is not what I intended to write today but my brain's on a whole hurt/comfort vibe apparently so here we are: something I wrote all in one go in about half an hour. Oops.

Everybody was in different places when the bomb went off. Spencer was with Derek, in an SUV headed uptown. The explosion was downtown. Where you'd been headed. Alone.

The geographical profile had indicated he wouldn't strike downtown. The geographical profile that he had made. The geographical profile that the team had trusted, that the team had based their assignments off, that had led Hotch to conclude it was safe to send you downtown alone.

"Garcia," Derek answers, putting her on loudspeaker and glancing at Spencer who could be pictured and pasted into the DSM-V as the definition of anxiety right now, "Garcia tell me you can patch everybody through."

"I'm trying," She rambles, her voice pitching upwards, "I'm patching ___ through now I'm trying their cell."

Spencer's leg bounces. It bounces so hard it's a miracle the velocity of it doesn't send Derek veering right across the road. He scratches at his neck. There are no words to be said. No words in any language in the world can describe the fear coursing through his body as he hears Garcia scramble, pressing keys and typing and he's only vaguely aware of Derek's hand coming to rest reassuringly on his bouncing knee, managing to still it just a little bit.

"___ will be fine," He reassures him, "Just fine. I promise. It's not your fault kid, you couldn't have known, how would you have known?"

"It's my job to know."

His tone is bitter, angry, and he feels even worse for it because it's not Derek's fault. Derek is trying to help. Derek is trying to be kind and somehow that's worse because he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve anybody's kindness right now and he can't get your face out of his mind. How you'd smiled at him before walking out of the door of that precinct and how it might be the last time he ever got to see you smile and it was all his fault. All his fault.

His stomach is in knots. Garcia's practically smacking her precious equipment in her hurry and then the line goes mute.

"Garcia?" Derek asks again, "Garcia are you still there?"

There's a beat of silence and then the background noise returns, "I'm just trying ____'s cell."

What's taking so long? She could have tried by now. He's never known Garcia to be slow at her job and even though it feels like time has stopped. Fractured like a mirror, throwing off pieces, and he's trapped inside a piece that has all of the horror and guilt he's ever felt in his life staring him in the face. But she can work faster than that. Why isn't she working faster than that?

It all becomes clear as he hears her clack again. Then your voice floods the line.

"You've reached SSA ____ ____ of the Behavioural Analysis Unit. Please leave a voicemail, or if you're calling regarding an urgent matter then please direct your calls to SSA Aaron Hotcher at the following number-"

"Maybe she's already on the phone," Derek suggests, cutting over your recital of his number, "Maybe her line's already busy. Right Garcia, is her line already busy?"

"I can't tell."

She's lying. Spencer knows she's lying and it knocks him sick. He practically wrenches the handle to the window off in his quest to get it open. The cold air pours in and he feels worse. He can't allow himself to bask in any feeling of comfort when you're God knows where.

He can't let himself think like that. He blinks hard, shaking his head as if he can physically remove the images from his brain. They flash through, his neurons defying him as they keep picturing you in worse and worse scenarios, and he can't breathe.

"Pull over," He directs Derek, wrenching off his seatbelt before Derek even manages to get the car in park.

Somewhere amidst all of it, Hotch has been patched through.

"We're convening downtown. Our presence has been requested at the crime scene."

Derek is saying something to pacify him. Or he's telling him something. He can't tell because his head is swimming and then Derek is squeezing his shoulder, physically pulling him back into reality.

"Kid. Listen to me. You're not helping anybody getting yourself all worked up like this. We need to focus. We've got to work this through."

He nods. He nods because Derek is right. They do have to work this through. Even though they would be better working this through without him because he's the one who made the profile that was wrong and his contributions clearly can't be trusted and-

"Put your seatbelt on. Talk to me. Let's talk through how it could have gone wrong."

Derek's voice strikes just the right balance between commanding and reassuring. It always does. So he does it. He clips in the seatbelt and starts to ramble, discussing avenues they haven't explored before, suggesting why he could have been wrong. He's never doubted himself like this before, and it's an uncomfortable feeling. What's more uncomfortable is the realisation he's never failed you like this before.

They pull up to the crime scene. Derek scrambles out of the car, but he pauses for a beat. It's only when Emily opens the door, that he's pulled back into reality again.

"Spencer," She says, "Spencer, come on."

There are SUV'S everywhere. They've tried to contain the scene as much as they could but they needed the bomb squad, needed paramedics, needed FBI.

She's walking him somewhere and he's frantically searching around him, frantically trying to orient himself. It doesn't help that it's dark, gone midnight by now, and the street lights were taken out in the initial explosion. Most of the lights come from torches, or headlamps that people are wearing. It's not enough, he can barely make out Emily let alone find your face in the crowd.

And then he hears it. His name. Your voice.

You found him.

"Spencer," You call, and he can't possibly turn around fast enough.

He barely has before you come crashing into his arms, cinching them tightly around him. He practically scoops you off of the ground, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you as close as he can possibly get you to his body, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo and there's tears coming out of his eyes, tears of relief and fear and-

"Spencer," You tell him, sniffling, "Spencer you're kind of crushing me."

You let out a little laugh, and he lets out one too. But it's puffy, practically just air. He releases his grip a bit and you lean up, your arms looping around his neck and playing with the baby hairs situated at the nape of it.

"Spence I'm okay, I'm right here," You reassure him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "I'm right here."

You are right here. He can hear the pound of your heart, he can smell your perfume, he can feel you playing with his hair in a way that tickles but is so comforting, so domestic, so reassuring that you still love him despite his fuck up, that he couldn't bring himself to tell you to stop even if he wanted you to.

He doesn't even know he's still crying until he speaks, his voice wavering as it manoveurs past the lump in his throat, "I-Garcia tried calling you. You didn't answer your phone."

"The battery was dead," You tell him, "I plugged it in in the car and next thing I know I'm getting pulled over. I got brought straight here when I told them I was FBI and I tried to borrow somebody's phone to call but they cut off cell reception here in case there was a second bomb."

He swallows. He can't say anything else, can't do anything else. He manages to open his eyes, and you lean up, apparaising him. You thumb at the tears on his cheeks, a kind of softness and love entirely exclusive to you filling your eyes along with a couple of tears. You don't look at him like you're angry. You don't look at him like you're disappointed. You look at him with a kindness he's entirely undeserving of at this moment in time and the thought spurs two more tears out of his eyes.

"What's wrong?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper, "Spence what's wrong?"

"It was my fault," He chokes, his head dipping a bit, too ashamed to make eye contact, "I made the profile. I was wrong. I sent you here, I-I sent you directly into danger."

"It was a copycat," You tell him, "It was a copycat, he didn't get away in time and got caught up in the blast. Our guy is smarter than that, so they think this guy tried to imitate it. It's not your fault. You couldn't possibly have known, you can't profile a person you don't know exists."

The revelation is like foam on a petrol fire. It quells the pain in his chest, the one that had maliciously licked at him, igniting all his own wounds and insecurities.

It wasn't his fault.

He holds onto you even tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck, "Thank you. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being okay."

"I'm always okay," You tell him, your voice nothing but sincere, "I'm always okay because I always have you."

With that, the fire is out. You reluctantly wiggle out of his arms, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. He's not okay yet. Not entirely. It all still feels surreal, and he knows it'll take a long time for his heart to settle down. But you're here. By his side. And that's enough for now.

In fact, with you? That's enough for always.

-

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[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I Stayed There - Eugene Sledge x OFC

Chapter 3 - The Child That Would Never Know Peace

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 /// Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

Summary: Anna suffers the consequences of war, and Eugene yearns to return home

Warnings: Death, grief, strenuous mother/daughter relationship

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: @cagzzz107

A/N: Character's names in bold italics indicate a change in POV

-

Anna

I became accustomed to grief soon enough. By the third time it happened, I was almost numb to the way my heartbeat stopped and sour bile rose in my throat when I heard my mother's anguished wails echoing from the front porch.

Richard died first. Then John. They were killed on Guadalcanal, Richard only a few days after Charlie had shipped out and the last brother I had left had slipped through my fingers. They'd been killed so close together that I'd barely had time to learn to breathe again after Richard died, that the army was showing up at our door again to deliver news of John's death. After that it became a waiting game. My mother and myself sat on opposite couches, staring blankly at the floor, picturing all the things that could happen to Charlie in Europe. Every morning I woke up and realised he could already be gone - that they were on their way to tell us, and we just didn't know it yet.

I became so accustomed to grief that I had begun to feel it before they were even dead.

The life inside the house had gone, photos of my father and three oldest brothers lined up along the mantel like a tribute to the dead, Charlie's photograph framed on the side table as if it was just waiting to go up alongside the others.

Three months after John had died, in the early days of May, I headed up to my mother's room to wake her, as it was already more than an hour past when she would usually appear. The upstairs hallway was eerily quiet, lined with empty bedrooms that we hadn't dared touch since their inhabitants had gone. Her room was at the end of the corridor, and when I pushed the door open it took my eyes a moment to readjust to the dimness.

It was almost midday, but in that room, it was dark enough to be night. The curtains were pulled so tightly shut that not a sliver of light made it through, and my mother was lying on top of made sheets, fully dressed, curled up on her side in silence and breathing so slowly it was almost imperceptible.

"Ma," I called softly out to her. "Ma, you gotta get up, Belle and Larry will be here with the baby soon." My cousin and her husband were dropping by later that day, touring the homes of the extended March family in a bid to show off their newborn son.

"I don't want them here." My mother spoke, her voice hoarse and dull.

"Ma-"

"Can't they come back another day? I don't want to see anyone today."

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. It was as if the roles between us had been reversed, as if in her grief my mother had become dependent on me, like I was the parent and she was the child making a tired plea for permission to avoid her obligations.

"They're going back to Tennessee tomorrow, they have to come today," I explained, in the tone that an exhausted parent might use with a child.

"Well, I'm not coming down."

I sighed again. "Alright. Alright, fine, I'll see them on my own. I'll go put on some tea - do you need anything?"

"No." She said quietly, rolling over so that she was facing away from me, effectively ending the dispute.

I was miserable. Completely, utterly miserable. Everything I'd so mournfully predicted the previous summer seemed to be coming true, and I had to turn away from the kitchen counter to stop my salty tears from landing in the tea I was preparing. I missed everything about the way things were. I wanted more than anything to hear Bobby's laugh again, to cheer from the crowd at one of Richard's football games, to feel John's hugs again. I wanted Charlie to come home, to save himself and spare us from the final loss that I wasn't sure my mother would ever be able to come back from.

Some mornings, when I woke up early to frost gathering on my windowsill, I imagined that Eugene was standing outside, throwing snowballs against my window, so vividly that sometimes I thought it was real.

But it wasn't. No one came around anymore except to offer their condolences. We were the family upon which the town unloaded their sympathy - posting cards under the door, leaving flowers on the porch, as if we would contaminate them with our losses if they actually spoke to us.

I'm pretty sure that everyone encounters one definitive moment in their life when they realise their childhood is over and that their life will never be tinted with that sense of innocence ever again. Mine was that day.

-

When our guests arrived, I set out three teacups on the table and made some excuse about how my mother had a cold and wanted to stay upstairs to avoid making the baby sick, and that she was probably sleeping so they should avoid going up to see her.

"That's a shame," Belle said. "Catherine always loved babies, I always thought that was why she had so many," She chuckled.

I paused for a moment, the teapot in my hand making my shoulder ache as I held it still in mid-air. "One would assume."

Larry hovered by the mantel, hands folded behind his back as he examined the photos. "Who's this?" He asked, pointing to one.

Belle cleared her throat loudly and shot her husband an uncomfortable look. "That's Richard, my brother," I said quietly.

I watched his face as he thought about my answer and seemed to remember exactly what made my family so fucking special. His expression fell sharply, and he bowed his head slightly, stepping back from the mantel.

At that moment it was hard to fight the feeling of resentment that threatened to prick at me. Hard to try not to scowl at the people sitting across from me because how dare they come into my house and not even bother to remember what had happened to my brothers - to their own family - as if they hadn't posted flowers and a hurriedly written condolence card. I realised then that they were so wrapped up in parading their new baby about the place that it had simply slipped their mind that they were supposed to care about my life in the same way they expected me to care about theirs.

I wanted them to get out.

But instead, I poured myself a cup of tea and took a long sip, letting the silence sit and settle in the room until they were just as uncomfortable as I felt.

Belle was the first to speak up and break it. "Would you like to hold the baby?"

"I suppose," I replied icily, setting my saucer down on the table as she stood up, the child letting out a gurgled coo as I held out my arms to receive him.

He was lighter than I had expected, and as I held him he blinked up at me slowly, his tiny fingers flexing, his whole body enveloped in layers of cotton and muslin. And my heart hurt for him. I ached for the innocence I saw in his eyes, in the face of a child born into a world at war, a world that was tearing itself apart all around him. It hurt to know that he would never be able to say he remembered life before war - that he would grow up surrounded by people like me who had been hurt and torn by it and never know it as anything but normal. He would see the world in a way I would never be able to understand, and I pitied him for it.

I felt his fingers close around my thumb, his entire palm scarcely larger than the pad of my finger, and I managed to crack a smile for the child that would never know peace.

-

Eugene

I remember being crouched in some shitty hole somewhere, shoulders hunched inwards when the mail came. Wiping the mud off my palms to avoid ruining the paper as I accepted my stack - four letters in total - and sifted through them. One from Sid, from Ma, my brother. And one from Anna.

Tearing into it without hesitation, I had to momentarily slow myself down to avoid ripping the letter itself. Reading the first few lines, I was interrupted by the sound of laughter.

"That letter sure seems special," Snafu grinned, crouched atop a rock outside of my hole.

I shrugged, trying to get back to reading. "Just a friend."

"A friend? What's his name?"

"Anna."

His interest seemed piqued, and I immediately regretted my response. "A broad? Well, tell me you got a photograph."

My hand twitched towards the breast pocket of my shirt before I could think, and Snafu made a dive for it, my dirty hand failing to tear the photo from him as he snatched it. He held it in both hands, brow raised a little and a mischievous grin beginning to spread across his cheeks. "A blonde friend," He chuckled. "Seems I misjudged you, Sledgehammer."

"Y'know unlike you I actually do have the decency to be friends with women," I spoke irritatedly, launching myself up from where I was sitting and grabbing it from him, shoving the photo back into my pocket with less care for keeping it uncreased than keeping it private. "Just mind your damn business."

When you return home from war, people always want to know what you thought about whilst you were there - what tethered you to home, what lulled you to sleep, what kept you sane when the sky lit up with fire. They expect answers filled with romanticism - that I imagined my childhood sweetheart or my mother kissing my forehead - but in truth, war twists your mind until it doesn't feel like your own, and it's hard for me to place myself in those shoes without feeling as if I'm looking in on someone else's life.

When I thought of home, it wasn't rose-tinted or peaceful. I could hear the sound of Anna's beer bottle breaking, shattering over and over in my mind as she got up and stormed away from me. When I remembered the pair of us bobbing up and down in that lake, I didn't think of the way the warmth of her skin had soaked through the sodden fabric of her dress and into my palms, or the way the water had rested in droplets on her eyelashes. I thought of the murky depths that had spread out beneath me, of the icy void that I could have sunk into had I not been more careful, the same way Bobby March had met his grim fate later that year.

I looked back on my life at home and saw the way things had already been falling apart around me without me even noticing, like wallpaper peeling away in the corner, hidden behind some bookcase and entirely unnoticed until you move everything around years later and find the gap where it fell away infested with dank, black mould.

And yet I yearned for home. It was easy to distract myself from it, but when I found myself waiting for the fighting to start, I felt hollow from missing it so dearly. I wanted to ride my bike down the long country roads with Sid the way we used to as kids, the pedals whirring round and round so fast that our feet blurred and our knees hurt, wind whipping past my ears so loud that I could barely hear him whooping beside me. I wanted to be back at the March's house the night of Anna's birthday dinner when she was eleven, slouching in an armchair, warmed by the fire as she lay contently on her stomach at my feet, her face lit orange by the flames as she poured over her book. I wanted to be everywhere, all at once - anywhere that wasn't here.

I can't remember what Anna's letter had said, and I shamefully confess to having lost a stack of them in Peleliu which were probably trampled into the thick mud before anyone noticed they were there. But I can remember the feeling of relief that I felt whenever I heard from her. When I look back on it I think that Anna was the strongest tether I had to home back then - stronger than Sidney, stronger than my parents, even. Her letters were always longer than everyone else's, and she had a knack for knowing exactly what I was interested to hear. Sidney only ever wrote about what seemed important, and my mother wrote about local gossip in arduous detail until I became so bored I only skim read her letters.

But Anna knew how to keep me tied to all the interesting things I missed about home. She only told me when our old classmates got married to complain about how boring their new spouses were, and knew how to toe the line between making home a place I ached to return to and somewhere I was glad not to be at present.

And then, one by one, I started receiving newspaper clippings of the March brothers' obituaries.

-

Anna

Charlie died in March 1945.

Somehow, in the two years since John's death, I had convinced myself that Charlie could make it. That he hadn't died yet, so he probably wouldn't, and people kept saying the war could end soon, so surely he'd be fine. That, unlike my other brothers, he had gone to Europe rather than the Pacific, and that somehow that might make a difference.

But it didn't. He took a bullet to the skull on the Russian front and died right there and then, his blood staining the snow a horrible scarlet. My mother and I had spent the last two years trying to heal ourselves, only for any semblance of peace we had found to be ripped from us again.

I had been the one to answer the door when they came to tell us. I had held myself together, my jaw clenched so tight I was scared I'd chip a tooth, and sent them away with a silent nod. I'd stood by the window and watched them walk away until they passed the end of the drive before letting out the most guttural wail I could muster, my sobs so coarse they left my throat raw for days.

Ma had known what it meant when the army knocked at our door, and it had been confirmed when she'd heard my cry. She locked herself in her bedroom and I didn't see her, even once, for two days. No one came down to wipe away my tears or to hold me close, no one's arms wrapped around me but my own. I can barely explain how much I wanted to hate her for leaving me down there alone, for letting the only child she had left sit and sob on the living room floor for three hours until the news reached Mary and she came running across town to see me.

Mary was the person who helped me into a chair, who stroked my hair until I was able to stop crying and then brought me a cup of tea to soothe my painful throat. Mary was the person whose shoulder I rested my head on as she spoke any words of comfort she could muster and stayed with me through the night when I couldn't sleep for the insatiable urge to cry.

Everything my mother should have done to help me in the days after Charlie had died, Mary did. She barely spoke, and yet she was what kept me sane. Years later I'm not angry with my mother anymore for leaving me alone, as I do not know the pain of losing a child and pray I never will. But back then I felt forsaken, forgotten. As if I had been disregarded in favour of her wallowing, as if the children she'd lost had become infinitely more important than the one she still had.

I think I hated her for a little while after that. She had made me feel alone in my own house when she could've allowed me to share in her pain, and I suppose at the time it had felt like a betrayal.

If those months between Charlie's death and the end of the war had been good for anything, it would've been for the bond then strengthened even more between Mary and me. And when Sidney came back it was almost as if I was offered the chance to go back to the way things were before.

But nothing would ever be the same as it was before.

[queenshelby]

A NEW WORLD - PART SIX

A QUIET PLACE 2 FANFIC

Pairing: Emmett x Fem!Reader

Warning: Angst, Gore, Death, Aliens, Violence, Movie Spoilers, etc…

***

DAY 756

Just over a year ago, the last flame over the old steel factory went out and it appeared to you that everyone had gone. There was no one else alive within a five kilometre radius.

You had been living at the bunker for over two years now and your food reserves were running low.

The well on the farm ran dry and the crops you planted weren’t growing following the most recent drought.

You managed to fetch some supplies from nearby properties, but it no longer was enough for all of you.

‘Mum, I am hungry’ Charlotte indicated using her lips and hands as you arrived. Marie had taught everyone sign language which was a blessing and it was, in fact, Reagan who had gifted her the book seven years ago which now benefitted you all.

‘Beans or…beans?’ you asked her, using your hands only and she pouted at you.

‘Beans?’ she asked, her deep blue eyes looking at you in desperation.

She was not even two years old and, whilst her vocabulary was limited, she knew what she wanted and it wasn’t beans.

Since beans were all that you had left, you heated them up and served them to her with some crackers and the last bit of rice from the pantry.

You never told anyone who Charlotte’s father was. It was no longer relevant and everyone accepted your decision to keep his identity to yourself. But her deep blue eyes and full lips were almost giving it away. She looked exactly like him and a day didn’t go by during which you didn’t think about him.

Giving birth to Charlotte was a challenge. She arrived four weeks early and, after Marie passed away a few weeks prior and Leanne went out to get supplies, it was Lucas who had to help you deliver his little niece.

For Charlotte, you remained at the bunker but you all knew that this was no longer possible. You all had to make the journey to a different place. A place with clean water and food.

Over the past few days, you had mapped out different location and decided that you would make your journey to the old steel factory in two days when the weather would hopefully turn, giving you an advantage for your travels.

***

On the day of your travels, you put a blindfold over Charlotte’s eyes after reminding her that she cannot make a sound.

‘If you stay really quiet and don’t peak through the blindfold, I will give you this chocolate bar, alright?’ you said to her and she nodded as you tightened the knot behind her head.

You knew that, what she could see on the way to the factory, might frighten her and cause her to scream.

With Charlotte strapped to you in a baby carrier, you made your way out of the bunker quietly and it didn’t take you long to get to the nearby forest.

It was windy and rainy, which was perfect as you could walk faster. The noise from your shoes was going unnoticed by the creatures as the crackling of the trees and the noise from the rain were overshadowing the small sounds you were making.

The journey to the old steel factory took you four hours and, when you finally arrived, you noticed that it had been partially destroyed.

You looked around the factory for hours until, finally, Lucas found something of interest.

On the below ground area of the old factory there were two creatures which had been shot.

‘How?’ Lucas indicated to you with his hands, using the sign language he had learned.

‘Don’t know’ you indicated back as you took a closer look at the creatures. You had never seen them dead before as, usually, they were way too fast for you to shoot them.

You then discovered several pictures on one of the steal columns besides a small desk and your chin dropped when you realised that the pictures were drawings of Emmett’s two sons.

In a haste you looked through everything on the small desk besides the furnace and you soon discovered a note on top of an old radio.

‘Turn to speaker. Radio Frequency 98.8. Then shoot to kill’ it said. The handwriting looked familiar to you and Lucas.

‘Marcus?’ Lucas asked and you simply raised your shoulders before putting on the headphone and turning on the radio.

When you turned it on, all you could hear was a sharp noise which almost instantly hurt your ears.

You quickly took off the headphones and shook your head. You didn’t know what any of this was about. All you could hear was a horrendous noise which sounded like someone was holding a microphone too close to a speaker.

Besides the drawings, you discovered a location book for all of the surrounding radio stations. You looked up Radio Frequency 98.8 and soon discovered that the frequency stemmed from a nearby island. It had been circled in red and you wondered whether this meant that there were survivors on the island.

‘We have to find this island’ you indicated to Lucas just as Leanne arrived in complete shock, crying heavily.

‘What’s wrong?’ you asked using sign language and Leanne handed you several pictures she had found in a small room upstairs.

These were family pictures of Emmett, Nora and their children.

‘Nora’s body…she is dead. I don’t know about the others’ Leanne indicated and you opened your arms and held her close.

‘I am sorry’ you whispered as you held her tight all while you could feel Charlotte become impatient.

After a lot of debate, you decided to spend the night in the factory before making your way to the island on the following day.

Whilst you would have been able to leave right away, Charlotte needed her rest and it was difficult travelling with a young child especially if you have to keep her quiet.

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