#LiD death counter update

[randaccidents]

I have been informed that as the death counter person it is my solemn duty to update chat about the death count in the rp HAHA.

Its been, what, 27 days since we started? It's only been a month??? The current death count looks like this:

Host: 22

Heart: 9 + 1

Mind: 2

(oh the plus one? just my harsh little reminder that there is more than one way for Heartless Heart to die :3, the death is not physical or traditional so I gave it a separate counter)

[emeritusemeritus]

No Good Deeds [George Weasley x Reader]

Part 1 2 3

Part 3

Title: No Good Deeds. Part 3.

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. George calls us Angel. Drinking. Angst, sadness, grief. Tags will be updated with each chapter.

This one got a little sad I’m sorry, I’m in my Freddie feels right now 🥀

Arriving at the shop, you noticed that Ron was still not here yet as the shop was in complete blackout except for the window lights which remained on at all times. You pulled out your wand and recited the unlocking spell that Fred had created and personalised, as well as the counter spell for the anti-alohamora charm he'd placed upon the building. You locked the door behind you with a flick of your wand and illuminated the store, making your way straight up to the office. The store looked good and tidy, though you did notice during your ascent up the stairs that there were a few stock items that needed replenishing, something you could do once you'd set up everything in the back.

Around half an hour later, Ron burst through the office door, calling for George and immediately froze upon seeing you sat there at his brother's desk.

"Oh, thought it was George this morning," he says, running his hand over the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed at barging in.

"He had some stuff to sort this morning, said I'd cover for him," you explained with a little shrug, grabbing the floats from the safe and the morning banking book.

"Oh right, yeah okay," Ron says, following behind you as you walk down the stairs. "Think he's got a secret girlfriend?"

Ron's words make you momentarily freeze, having not expected him to say that.

"Don't know Ronald," you said with another shrug and a smile, "but if Percy can get a girlfriend then George definitely can." Ron laughs with a nod and helped you set up the shop as you work together, laughing and joking like usual. He tries to pry into George's love life a little more, assuming that you know more than he does but you successfully manage to deflect his questions, hopefully without any suspicion.

You winced as the stones of your engagement ring caught the palm of your hand for the third time since you'd been restocking the shelves and looked down to see a little imprint of the outline cut into your hand. You sighed, checking around you to see where Ron was before walking up towards the office and turning left instead, towards the flat. Approaching the wooden door, you took a deep breath in and tried to gather your courage, suddenly feeling emotional and overwhelmed at returning to the flat you'd once known so well, dreading stepping through the door.

You huffed out a breathe and opened the handle, immediately greeted by the dark corridor that wrapped around the flat. You walked past the closet and then past what used to be Fred's bedroom, pausing only briefly to touch the doorframe as you felt your lip wobble, tears threatening your eyes. You shook them away and carried on walking towards George's room, looking for something specific that you knew he had, hoping he wouldn't mind you borrowing it.

You felt uncomfortable intruding like this, but it was the only solution you could think of. You stepped through the door and found the room to be much neater than you imagined, with only a few pieces of clothing and ties strewn on the floor in the otherwise rather tidy bedroom. You walked over to his dresser, seeing his leather watch box on top and raised the lid. Immediately you were met with a photo of you, George and Fred in your fifth year, building a snowman in the courtyard at Hogwarts. You all looked so young and happy, dressed in layer upon layer of warm clothes topped with coats and hats as you beamed at the camera, Fred's arm wrapped around you and George holding onto your shoulder, each one of you proud of the enchanted snowman you'd created. A tear leaked out of your eye and you bit your lip to try and prevent anymore from falling as you quickly wiped it away, unable to take your eyes of Fred's infectious smile. You placed the photo down onto the lid and reached to grab a silver chain that was beside the watch that his parents had given him for his 17th birthday, the same watch that sat beside an identical one in the box. You'd bought both of them a chain for their 17th birthday with a little engraved pendant attached that you had customised. The engraving was a 'w' sign with a little star at the top, the very same sign that would become the logo for the shop. Fred was buried in his chain, having never taken it off, but you noticed that George hadn't worn his much in the past few years, which you understood. You took out the chain and slipped the engagement ring through it before securing it around your neck and tucking it underneath your shirt. The last thing you wanted was to lose the ring and this was the only way you could keep it safe whilst you were at work, knowing you'd be panicking if it was in your pocket all day and you vowed to keep it at home tomorrow. You closed the lid of the watch box, casting one last glance at the photo before walking out of the flat and back down to the shop. Ron was none the wiser and you carried on restocking the love potions, no longer hurting from the ring, as Ron grabbed the skiving snackboxes in preparation for you opening the store.

You briefly thought of George as you wiped down the counter, wondering if the furniture had been delivered yet and what he was doing at home before a knock at the front door dragged you out of your musings. Verity had arrived for her shift and you let her in with a wave of your wand, greeting her before disappearing into the office for one last check over the inventory books before the shop opened.

"Morning stranger," you heard a voice say a little later as you deposited some cash into the safe. You turned around and saw George leaning on the door frame, arms crossed with a smirk on his lips, looking well rested and quite frankly, very handsome in his suit and burgundy shirt.

"Morning Georgie," you smiled, locking the safe and turning to face him completely.

"You ran off this morning," he teases, stepping forward to sit next to you on the desk, his long legs leaning beside you.

"I left a note," you countered in a mock-argument, giving him a wicked smile. He chuckles and nods, his eyes flicking over you.

"Did everything come okay? Didn't expect you in yet."

"All set up," he says with a nod before frowning gently, his mouth opening and closing twice before he says the next part, "look about last night, I'm sorry if-"

"Georgie," you said, moving to stand and place your hand on his chest to stop him. "I offered."

"Yeah not for me to sleep with-

"It's fine, actually it was nice to sleep beside someone again," you said honestly, the image of Fred's smiling face from the photograph filling your mind as you thought of the only person you'd ever shared a bed with. "Except for the snoring, that I could do without," you joked. He immediately grabbed you and pulled you into him as you let out a little squeal at the sensation of his beginning to tickle you.

"Snoring!?" He repeats with a shout, trying to look outraged but the grin on his face told you that he was far from angry. "How rude Mrs Weasley," he jokes, stopping the tickling but still keeping his hands on your waist. His eyes flick down to your left hand and his brows knit together momentarily as you follow his train of thought.

"Couldn't let Ron see it yet," you said as you both looked at your left ring finger, "I have to confess something though."

"Don't say you've lost it already," George says with a small, goading smirk which transforms into a laugh as you hit him on the chest for the little dig.

"No I haven't lost it," you say with a huff before reaching down into your shirt and pulling out the chain that sits around your neck, the ring hanging off of it like a pendant, knowing he'd recognise it instantly, "had to borrow this from you, is that okay? Please don't be mad, I tried to put the ring on my other hand but it kept digging in and it cut me and."

George immediately stops your babbling by pressing his lips to yours, a move that shocks you to your core as you stand there frozen, feeling his soft lips on yours. The kiss lasts no more than a few seconds but you can't help but stay perfectly still, more than surprised by his actions, your eyes slowly fluttering open after instinctively closing as he leaned in. George pulls away and looks at you with equal amounts of surprise, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done too. His shocked expression drops from his face after a few moments as he draws in a breath before explaining, never taking his eyes off his chain around your neck.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't think of any other way to stop you rambling," he says with a small tilt of teasing in his voice before his gaze flicks up to look directly into your eyes, a soft look on his features. "I don't mind, looks good on you."

He strokes your arm as he pulls away and without any other words, he walks through the office door and down the stairs, leaving you utterly bamboozled as you stare at the spot where George had just been. George just kissed you. George Weasley had just kissed you.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, with paperwork and inventory checks needing your attention and taking up most of your time. You'd run into George a few times over the course of the day and each and every time you had felt his eyes on you before you even knew he was there. The look in his eyes was unfamiliar to you, like he was deep in thought or concentration but it only seemed to be when he caught sight of you which was strange. At one point he had winked at you as you walked through the store after grabbing some lunch for the both of you and it made you feel giddy and restless as there had seemed to be a shift in your dynamic since the kiss.

After your last inventory check was done and recorded in the files, you stepped out onto the shopfloor at 10 minutes before close to ask George about what he wanted for dinner tonight but you stopped short when you saw him laughing with an unfamiliar woman next to the till. They were stood pretty close together and she was laughing at something George was saying as he chuckled along, looking fairly animated in his reply. Your eyes rolled when you saw her laugh and reach out to touch his arm, a move you'd seen over and over again in all those tragic muggle romantic comedies that Hermione had made you endure over the years. You couldn't deny that your stomach sank at seeing the scene before you, George and the pretty woman flirting openly in the near empty shop, especially after he kissed you earlier in the day. You considered just backing away and pretending that you'd not seen what you had but that plan was immediately rendered impossible when you heard your name called out by a very familiar voice. George.

He waved his hand at you, gesturing for you to join them and you willed your feet to move across the floor, trying to force a smile onto your face though inside you were a maelstrom of hurt and rage.

"This is her, y/n," George says, introducing you as you approach them, placing his hand onto your waist as you stand next to him. "She came up with these, bloody brilliant actually," George says, holding out the familiar packaging of the weather in a bottle product you'd created together in your sixth year. "Excellent diversion tactic or just a harmless prank if preferred, a rain cloud will actually follow the receiver around and it creates no mess, except for the unsuspecting victim, they'll be wet through."

Usually, George's praise would have made you blush, especially as his hand held your waist so openly, but in the current circumstance you just felt enraged. The woman he was chatting with had pulled away from him and clearly had a face like thunder at your interruption, though she tried to mask it around George.

"It seems your employees are very talented," she says with a tight lipped smile that certainly didn't reach her eyes. You didn't miss the inflection on the word 'employees' and it pained you not to roll your eyes at her purposeful goading. You shot her a sarcastic smile in return before looking around for Ron but you couldn't see him.

"Employee?" George says questioningly before looking down at you, pulling you in slightly, "my fiancée." You froze, feeling suddenly on the spot at you tried to search for any sign of Ron or Verity in hearing distance but there was no one else around.

The woman seemed to baulk at the new information and all pretence of a smile dropped from her face. She suddenly made up some excuse about having to collect something from Flourish and Botts and quickly hustled out of the store, leaving you and George alone.

You snorted as you watched her exit, "should rename the shop 'Weasleys' Wizard Whizzes, with how fast she just ran out."

George barked out a laugh before checking his watch and flourishing his wand, effectively closing and locking the door. He nudges you with his hip as he squeezes past to get to the tills, opening up the first one that Verity had manned for most of her shift.

"So fiancé Eh?" You said quietly, moving around to the second till to begin cashing it up just as George had with the first one. George gives you a little look as he counts the sickles before jotting down the total on the little piece of parchment beside the till.

"Only one more day before we tell mum, might as well start the rumours," George says with a knowing smirk. The mention of telling Molly made your stomach lurch and it was all you could think of as you counted each galleon, knut and sickle in the till.

"You ready my beloved?" George asks jokingly, reaching for your hand as he puts the last of the cash in the safe.

"What about the accounts?" You ask, looking through the inventory receipts laid out on your desk.

"They can wait till morning, I'm starving, let's go home," George says, taking your hand and begins leading you down the stairs. His use of 'home' gave you a warm, fluttery feeling that made a goofy smile want to cross across your lips, knowing that he meant both of you.

You walked out of the shop and George turned out the lights and locked up with his wand before placing it into his suit jacket pocket, never once letting go of your hand as you walked around to the back of the store and apparated back to your flat.

As soon as you made it back, you walked into your bedroom and threw off your bra just as you did everyday, followed by your socks and jeans, changing into your loungewear straight away. You threw on a big cardigan and walked back out to see George in the kitchen, looking through the fridge.

"Made you a cup of tea Angel," he says with an absent nod of his head as he peruses the ingredients.

"Thank you!" You gush, elated at the prospect of having a warm cup of tea, "I knew there was a reason I'm marrying you," you joked.

George huffed mockingly, closing the fridge as he turns to face you. He'd taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves and you couldn't deny how good he looked right at that moment.

"Not my movie star good looks? Towering height? Flaming red hair?" He jokes, stepping closer to you.

"Hmmm," you pretend to think, dramatically tapping your chin, "no it's definitely the tea."

"Remind me why I'm marrying you again?" He teases, reaching behind you to grab his drink.

"I'd say my impeccable sense of humour and sharp whit but we both know it's for a savvy business move," you replied with a sarcastic grin that falls from your face as you watch George's face sink. He recovers quickly but you definitely saw the stricken expression on his face and you immediately regret your words, though you were of course only stating facts.

You start tea as George nips in the shower and as the rice begins to boil and the chicken comes out of the oven, the kitchen heats up exponentially and you have to take off your cardigan due to the heat, casting it to the wind to land somewhere on the sofa behind you. Just as you reached for the jar of sauce from the cupboard, you saw the bottles of daisyroot draught you'd bought for George a few days ago and pulled it out for him before adding the sauce to the chicken.

"Georgie, I got you some daisyroot, if you want it," you said, turning to face him as you stir the bubbling pan. He's wearing his pyjama bottoms and a black T-shirt as he rubs his hair with the towel, walking barefoot into the kitchen. He opens his mouth to reply but he seems to briefly pause, focusing intently on something around you before snapping out of it a few moments later, looking bashful.

"Great, yeah great, thank you," he stammered, stuttering through his words as he avoided eye contact with you and walked past you to grab a glass from the top shelf. You frowned at his peculiar behaviour but decided not to question in, realising that it might be an adjustment thing from him moving in with you, after all the only person he'd ever lived with as an adult was Fred. Perhaps you shouldn't have bought him the daisyroot, thinking that somehow you might have overstepped.

"Tea's nearly ready," you say, perhaps a little delicately in hopes that you wouldn't upset him but his reaction is normal so you try to put it out of your mind, putting it down to a bad turn.

"This is amazing Angel," George says, taking huge forkfuls of the chicken curry and rice you'd haphazardly thrown together. You smile appreciatively at him and scoop up some of your own food, admittedly taking much smaller bites than George. "So, you ready to tell Mum tomorrow?"

Your eyes shoot up to his with a glare, seeing him smirking at you and you roll your eyes, feeling a lump in your throat and nerves at the pit of your stomach.

"Yeah can't wait," you mutter sarcastically, already anticipating what could happen in your mind, picturing her utter elation, or her outrage.

"You know she'll be happy right?" George says, scooping up another forkful of rice.

"You think we can actually convince them?" You ask, changing the direction of the conversation slightly, not realising how much that question had been playing on your mind. George is quiet for a minute as he considers his answer, taking a sip of the daisyroot before picking up his fork again.

"Don't see why not," he says with a little shrug before turning to look at you with a little smile, "not exactly unheard of is it? Falling for your best friend."

George's words make your stomach flip and roil in numerous ways, the smile on his face only furthering those complicated feelings within you.

"Guess not," you reply, trying to act neutral as you absently eat your food, though you couldn't deny that your appetite had waned dramatically from the topic of conversation. "So, do I wear the ring tomorrow or do I put it on after work?"

"Whatever you want Angel," George says, reaching for his glass again, "Ron's off tomorrow and I doubt Verity would notice anything even directly under her nose, it's just you and me." When you don't reply, silently considering your options, George leans over and grabs your hand on the table, stroking where your engagement ring should be. "Keep in on my chain tomorrow, around your neck and then put it on before we get back to mum's," he suggests, a softness to his voice that made it seem like a hopeful request. You nod and smile at him, still feeling a little conflicted as you tuck into the rest of your meal.

When you climb into bed later that night, your thoughts are consumed by your situation, of your impending engagement and your future after that. Truthfully, you hadn't taken much time to process everything since that first initial day, getting caught up in George moving in and all the things that came along with that. You were already anxious at returning to the Burrow tomorrow, having only been back a handful of times since the war, once for Harry and Ginny's engagement party and a few other dinners that never quite felt the same as before, like something obvious was missing, as it always was these days. Your thoughts were plagued with what ifs and nervous thoughts of what lies after but mostly all you could think of was Fred.

You had to remind yourself that you were doing this for George and for Fred's memory, to keep the business exactly as it had been created, to honour Fred. They were your oldest friends, your best friends and you'd give anything for them to succeed and to be happy and if that meant sacrificing your own life and happiness temporarily, then you'd do it in a heartbeat, regardless of the emotional strain.

You felt shame at lying to the people that had become your second family, that had housed you and welcomed you into their home like one of their own. You felt sad that you were holding back George from finding someone and even more conflicted that the idea of George finding someone else caused you to hurt in ways you couldn't explain. And most of all, you felt immeasurable guilt at your arrangement with George, namely because it felt like you were disrespecting Fred. Moving on, even though you were never officially together, seemed to imply that you had chosen George over him, that you could be so selfish and heartless that you'd marry his twin brother after his death, casting all of your memories away and rendering them insignificant. In your heart, you knew Fred wouldn't see it that way and he'd be proud of you for doing what you were doing for his and George's sake, though your mind wouldn't listen to a word of that, instead choosing to attack you.

As soon as the idea crossed your mind, you pulled back your covers and hauled yourself out of bed to crouch on the floor, reaching for a large shoebox that was stored under your bed, filled with your most treasured items. The top of the box had scribbles all over it in both in pencil and quill ink, with writings and drawings of Weasley products all over in a mixture of yours and the twins' handwriting. You sat and chuckled at the difference between everyone's writing; yours was the neatest and most consistent with cursive tails and joined letters. George's writing was small and a little 'curly', though it was quite neat for a boy's writing. Fred's writing however, fluctuated between indecipherable scribblings and various levels of darkness as if he's taken too much ink on the quill. You ran your fingers over the markings, smiling to yourself, before opening the lid to the shoebox. You didn't do this often, only when you needed to feel him, to be surrounded by memories, like right now.

You pulled out a stack of photos front the top, some magical and some not, seeing you, George and Fred at various ages and places during your Hogwarts years. You looked through them with fondness before coming across a photo of you and Fred at the Yule Ball in your sixth year, both of you dressed in your fanciest clothes. Fred's rust coloured waistcoat matches his vibrant, long hair perfectly and you looked at the photo carefully, thinking of how handsome he looked. Memories of dancing and laughing through the night entered your mind, both with Fred and George after George had stolen you away for a dance when Fred had stepped out to get drinks. Fred had walked straight up to the pair of you pretending to be angry and had tried to steal you back, both of them never missing a step of the waltz choreography as you were passed back and forth between the brothers, their matching red hair just a blur as you spun around.

You couldn't stop the tears that filled your eyes and steamed down your cheeks as you looked at the photo of Fred, trying to remember every little detail about him, the scar on his eyebrow and the light freckles on his cheeks, his smell and his laughter. You put down the photos and picked up the button that was underneath the stack, one of the buttons from your dress that night that Fred had unceremoniously ripped off of you, this singular button popping off and rolling underneath his bed, only for you to find it two months later. You placed the button down onto the photos and pulled out a stack of letters that you'd saved, some from Fred and some from George, not feeling strong enough to be able to read them at the moment.

Just as you pulled out a little stuffed toy of a Niffler that Fred had bought you in your third year and cuddled it into your chest, there was a gentle knock at the door. You called out for George to come in, trying to stash the things away before he could see them and get upset as well as quickly wiping away your tears before looking up to him.

Whatever he wanted from you disappeared the second he saw your tear strained face, crouched over a box he recognised immediately.

"Angel," he says quietly, which only makes more tears fall. He moves like lightning over to you and immediately wraps his arms around you, sitting beside you and pulling you into his embrace so that you were near enough sat in his lap. He holds you, rocking gently as you cry, no longer seeing any reason to hold back your emotions.

"Your T-shirt's all wet," you say in a weak, apologetic voice with a sniffle a few minutes later, pulling away from him slightly. "I'm so sorry, it's not fair of me to do this with you," you say, noticing that his own tears are working their way down his face.

"Not fair? What do you mean?" He says gently, allowing you to pull away but not completely, keeping a comforting hand on you.

"He was your brother, your twin, I-"

"Enough of that," he says with a shake of his head, reaching down to wipe away a tear under your eye, "he meant everything to both of us."

His words make you want to cry all over again but you don't, trying to stay calm as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. His hand strokes your back as you try and calm your breathing, feeling a little embarrassed by your outburst after you'd got it all out of your system.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't considered how hard this must be for you, you and Fred were together for-."

"It doesn't matter," you say, cutting off George, not wanting to explain that you were never really together, "it's not that, not really, I just really needed him."

George gives you a single nod that holds all the weight of understanding, clearly knowing exactly how you felt.

"I remember this," George chuckles, pulling something out of the box delicately. It was a piece of parchment with the ingredients for the ageing potion you'd found in an old potions book that the twins had used to try and enter their names into the triwizard tournament. You'd warned them that it wouldn't work against Dumbledore's age line but they hadn't listened. Attached to the sheet of parchment with an old paper clip was a photo you'd taken of the twins in the infirmary, both of them sporting wild white hair and beards, including bushy eyebrows, their arms around each other with cheesy smiles.

You watched as George reached down to touch an old, faded T-shirt of Fred's that was tucked down into the bottom of the box, an old quidditch T-shirt that had outgrown him by his third year, golden thread stitching up a hole in the collar and another smaller one on the seam of the sleeve. You wore it to bed nearly every night for years, the softness and the smell always so comforting to you.

George's fingers ran across the Gryffindor logo for a moment before catching sight of a keyring he'd bought you from the Quidditch World Cup, the green shamrock dangling from the binder ring, the Ireland logo on the back a little scratched up now but the green, white and orange colours were still as vibrant as ever.

"I bought you this," he said with a smile, placing it into his hand as he inspected it. You nodded eagerly, remembering it clearly. You'd painted the boys faces before leaving the tent with the face paint you'd taken with you and when they'd been to look at the merchandise with the limited money they had, they'd both returned with matching green and white scarves, Fred decked out in an obscenely large hat and George had nervously held out his hand to you, passing you the keyring as he moved you to stand between the twins.

"Knew you would want a momento from the trip but I didn't think you'd appreciate one of those hats like Fred and Ginny had," he says, a fondness in his eyes as he looks at the metal keyring.

"I used it everyday for five years," you said, giving him a little smile. "I caught it on the door one day and I thought I broke it, had to reattach the shamrock and then I switched it out, it means too much to me to get broken or lost."

George looks up at you with emotion filled eyes, a look shared between you both that held so much depth that it stole your breath for a few moments.

"Feels like another lifetime," George says after a few minutes of silence. You made a noise of agreement, flicking your eyes down to look at the box filled with distant memories that were now bittersweet and a little twisted.

"You're wrong, you know."

George looks up at you with a puzzled frown, confused by your words. You breathe out a puff of laughter and smile at him, reaching for the hand that wasn't holding the keyring.

"Fred isn't the only one who means everything to me."

Your words seem to affect George in a way that you hadn't anticipated as a tear comes to his eye, his hand tightening around yours before he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. You hug him back without question, feeling his soft (and now dry) T-shirt against your skin, his arms around you and the comforting smell of his hair and skin taking over your senses.

He pulls away ever so slightly and for a moment you think he's going to kiss you again, his face so close to yours but he doesn't, slowly releasing you from his hold until you climbed off of him, a little disappointed.

"Right, enough mushy shit, we need a plan, for telling your family," you say, standing up and pulling your pyjamas back into place.

"That was what I came to tell you," George says, moving to stand as well as you bent down to slide the box back under your bed. You turned around and looked at him expectantly, wanting him to elaborate. "Mum sent an owl, said something about a gnome infestation, apparently they're vicious this time of year, dad's been bitten twice just walking to the car."

"Oh."

"I was thinking we could meet them at the leaky cauldron or get a meal out? We'll need to tell them soon," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Invite them over! I can cook, might need to leave work early to prep everything though," you reply, trying to save the plans you'd made.

"Really? You don't have to but,"

"They need to believe we're really together, what better way then to show them that we're living together," you say before reaching a bump in the road, "your stuff will probably need to move in here though, can't have it look like we're sleeping separately, we're not exactly priests."

George nods, following along with your train of thought. "I could bring more of my stuff over? Litter it about, just for a couple of days?"

You shrug in reply, "I don't mind."

"I'll write to mum now and offer them to come here, take the day off tomorrow, then you won't be rushing around, like I know you will," he says with a knowing smirk that you roll your eyes at.

"But you'll be on your own."

"I'll send Ron an owl."

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[jokeringcutio]

DRABBLE/ AMNESIA!READER X THE GRABBER [PART 2]

Fandom: Black Phone 2022 Pairing: The Grabber/ Albert Shaw x Reader Rating: Mature (with explicit follow ups) Warnings: Talk of Innocent Reader, Corruption/Innocence Kink, Cursing, Fear of death, Daughter of Friend! Reader, Villains!Thoughts, Kidnapping, Amnesia!Reader, age gap/ older man/younger woman. AN: Want to be tagged in Albert Shaw/Grabber posts? Let me know and I will tag you in new updates.

[ Click here for Part 1 ]

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It was not supposed to go like this. Albert huffed, heavily irritated by the way his recent catch had gone, and nearly smashed the bottle of soda on the kitchen counter before he turned around to look for the bottle opener to take off the lid.

While he stood bent, rummaging through the nearly empty but still messy kitchen drawer, his mind raced to the recent events. He had read about head trauma. He’d not thought he’d experience a case like yours though.

Sure, one of the previous boys had hit his head pretty badly when Albert had thrown him into the van after being sprayed with helium gas. But it had been a flesh wound, nothing too bad. When the boy awoke he still had enough spirit and sense left to try and fight him.

This, however, was a different matter. You hadn’t seemed frightened by him or your surroundings at all. Not even the mask had managed to make you feel unsettled. And you’d even sucked his thumb, as if it were his dick he pressed between those luscious lips of yours. And goddamn, if he didn’t want to ravish your mouth right now. But he had to push the thought of forcing his cock down your throat to the back of his mind. He had to calm himself, had to remain sensible, and think about his next move.

He was startled, caught unguarded by your response to waking up in his basement. It seemed to change the game for him. You really must have hit your head hard when he threw you into the back of his van. This had never happened before.

You weren’t his first rodeo. You were his third girl. After six boys. He was on a roll. Yet, he’d never had one of his catches bump their head hard enough to cause a concussion.

And he’d never had any of them forget to be scared. How was he to react to that?

He remembered when he had switched to girls. A nice change from the naughty boys he had caught before. He was upping his game, he knew it. But he had expected much more of a fight, like with the girl before you. Oh, she’d had much spirit. She’d been his perfect practice target, strong enough to fight back, eager enough to be beaten by his belt until she could fight him no longer.

He had originally planned to take another girl next, a pretty and random thing. But then you had come to help him and the chance had been too good to pass.

In hindsight, the game had been different from the start when it came to you. It was tricky, taking you. You were special, always had been to him. He'd seen you as a child, watched you grow into a teenager, and blossom into the young woman you now were.

He doubted you’d ever truly seen him, or that you would remember him from your short encounters. He’d mostly been admiring you from afar after all. Or from pictures shown to him by your proud dad.

Oh yes, you were a tricky target because he knew your father very well. They were in the same club of friends, supported the same football team, and sometimes went to the same gym together. Just men together, hanging out, drinking beer. He was a family friend, in a way. A man who had hungered for you for years.

That made you sort of special.

And now he had to act as if he hadn’t just knocked out his friend’s daughter. As if he hadn’t brought her home and locked her up in his basement to use for his primal pleasure.

“She better not be dead when I return for her,” he grunted angrily while he popped the bottle open. “She’d better not be dead.”

He wanted his fun first, most of all. And he wanted to fulfill that aching need he felt in the low pit of his stomach. You had been on his mind day and night. Too innocent, his mind squeaked at him. Too darn innocent, it hurt his cock just thinking of you flaunting in your nice summer dresses, showing a bit too much skin, smiling a bit too brightly at the neighboring kids, helping out at the local community center. Too damn innocent.

He needed to be inside of your cunt, and soon. He needed to corrupt all that was good about you.

He took a big gulp from the bottle, uncaring that he had promised the drink to you, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grunted. He felt his stiff erection press against the confines of his pants, pushed downwards by the tight fabric, forced to be ignored.

His hand slid past the bulge, fingertips tipping past the ribbed fabric of his pants. His lips parted in a low moan.

“Goddamn,” he cursed, glad that no one was around to hear him as he leaned his elbows in front of him on the kitchen counter. He hung his head in between his hands and closed his eyes with a grunt.

“Goddamnit, I need to have you, sweetheart. I need to ruin that pretty little cunt.” A firm thrust of his hips against the kitchen cabinet underneath the counter, but it would have to do. Then Albert manned up and straightened his spine. He lowered his hands again, then turned to the bottle he had uncapped for you.

“Better be alive,” he muttered. “Better be goddamn alive for me.”

~~ Masterlist - Request Box - Support me on Ko-Fi ~~

[hellowhisperingstars]

Chapter Nine: The Drop

Summary: A night at the bar doesn’t go how you and Eddie thought it would and it ends with you getting punished. Eddie lets you in on some of the darker moments of his past that no one really knows about. 

Pairing: Rockstar/Bar Owner!Eddie Munson x Baker!Reader 

Words: 9K

Warnings: 18+, dom/sub dynamic, smut, spanking, vibrators, fingering, safe word used, sub drop, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jealousy, an almost bar fight, angst, cussing, overuse of pet names, Y/N used, talks of past jail time, the word whore is used a lot, mentions of canon character death by suicide. Please let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Hello! Gonna be honest this chapter was hard as hell to write. I had zero motivation and I ended up re-writing a part of it like three times. I'm sorry it's been so long since my last update but here is chapter nine! As always the girl in the gif does not represent what the reader looks like, I just needed the aesthetic of a pinky promise! Please tell me what you think! Also I've never experienced sub drop so I probably didn't portray it correctly please be nice about it!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! <3

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list! I will be double checking if you have your age in your bios! AGELESS OR BLANK BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST!

Previous - Masterlist - Forward

They say that time heals all wounds and you knew that was what you needed for your heart to get back into shape. After taking a few days to grieve you easied your way back into work, knowing Nana wouldn’t want you to dwell on her passing and soon you found yourself back in the swing of things. The kitchen was a place where you could let your stress melt away, letting you focus on the task at hand; currently that was a cupcake cake in the shape of a dinosaur. You went about adjusting the cupcakes into the perfect spots before you were confident enough to start frosting it. Outlining the dino with white buttercream you then moved onto filling it in with the light green and blue buttercream for its skin and spots. Cartoonish. Cute. The kid will love it. 

“Y/N,” Emma said as she poked her head back into the kitchen. “Mrs. Reynolds is here for that dinosaur cake.”

“Just finished!” You smiled as you picked it up and placed it in a box for your customer. “I’ll bring it right out!”

“I’ll let her know!” Emma smiled as she moved back into the front of the shop. You heard her quiet. “It’ll be out in just a minute.”

Slapping the sticker on top you picked it up and maneuvered your way out of the kitchen into the shop towards the empty register. “Mrs. Reynolds?”

“That would be me!” The red-haired soccer mom said as she stood up from your cafe table and bounced over to you. She seemed more excited about this cake then her kid probably was.

“Your order is ready!” You smiled as you placed it on the counter pushing it towards her. “I hope the birthday boy likes it!”

“I’m sure he will!” She smiled as she touched the top of the box. “Can I look?”

“Be my guest!” 

You watched as she lifted the lid and did an excited little dance. “Oh my it’s perfect! I knew you wouldn’t let me down!”

“I’m so happy you like it!” You laughed in glee holding your hands to your chest. This. This reaction is why you decided to open the bakery in the first place.

She smiled brightly at you as she closed the lid on the box and pulled it carefully into her arms, gave you a little wave, and headed towards the door with a little bounce in her step. 

Grinning, you headed back into the kitchen to finish a few more orders until you had to leave. Tonight you were going to the bar for the first time in a few weeks. You hadn’t been ready to face a lot of people since the funeral but Eddie had convinced you to come out cause the boys were playing again and getting the chance to get out and listen to your favorite band with a few drinks with friends is just what the doctor - or in this case the Dom - ordered. Plus the band would be leaving for New York soon to work on a deal and a new album with their record company and Eddie wanted to spend as much time with you as he could before he had to hop on that plane out of state for a few weeks. 

Looking at the clock you nodded to yourself and got to work on a new order. Just a few more hours and you can see your boy.

The bar was busy tonight as you pulled into an open space in the parking lot. Grabbing your purse you pull it over your shoulder and exit your car, bumping your hip against the door to close it after you locked it. It was nice out, the heat of the day had diminished enough that your sundress could be paired with a light jacket and you were comfortable. Walking up the steps to the patio you smiled as the sound of the bass rattled your bones before you even opened the door, pulling it open as you stepped inside. By the looks of it you were late to the party, Eddie was already on stage, singing his heart out into the mic with his guitar in his hands but once he saw you his face lit up like the fourth of July. Mid song he gestured for you to come over to the stage. He wanted his hello kiss. Didn’t matter to him that he was in the middle of a performance or that you haven't even sat your purse down yet. He tossed his guitar over his shoulder so it hung against his back before he pulled the mic from the stand and knelt down, holding his hand out to you which you gave as he sang. You laugh a little at the attention he was giving you and for a moment it's like he's singing just for you, completely forgetting the crowded bar behind you. 

Once the lyrics had momentarily stopped to allow for a good second guitar solo from Jeff, Eddie moved the mic away to pull you closer with your hand, placing a kiss on your lips before he pulled back his voice starting to get raspy from singing. “Hi baby.” 

“Hi.” You smile up at him, your sweaty rocker. “You look sexy up there.” 

“Yeah?” He asks, his eyebrows disappearing under his bangs as he fakes shock before a smirk graces his plush lips.

“Yeah.” You nod before tapping his hand holding the mic with a little smirk of your own. “You have a song to finish. I'll be at the bar.” 

He nodded with a chuckle pulling you back in for one more kiss before he let you go with a wink and let out an over exaggerated groan as he stood up just to make you laugh. Puting the mic back on the stand he pulled his guitar back into place as he started to sing again.  

You mouthed the words along with him as you walked to the bar, knowing the song by heart since college, and a smile flashed on your face as you noticed Lizzy sitting with her back to you. Slowly you crept up behind her and placed your hands over her eyes laughing as she jumped in surprise. “Guess who?!”

Lizzy’s hands came up quickly to grab yours, her fingers feeling around for anything that would give away who it was. “Well the band’s still playing and these hands are way too soft to be Jeff’s. I was just talking to Robin so… it has to be… Y/N!”

You laughed as she pulled your hands away so she could turn on the stool to face you as you perched yourself on the stool next to her. “Hey!” 

“Hey! How have you been? Are you doing okay?” She asked with a low concerned voice, her hand rubbing up and down your arm. 

“I've been alright,” You smiled tilting your head a little with a small shrug. “Finally getting back to normal.”

“That's good. If you ever need to talk you know Robs and I are here for you.” Lizzy said as Robin slid you your usual drink order.

“Thank you.” You said for both the drink and her offer. It was nice to have friends like the ones you made here at the bar, you’ve missed them. “Where’s Steve? I thought he was working tonight.”

“Over there.” Robin said pointing behind you. 

Steve seemed almost back to his old self. He was always able to move on with things faster than you ever could, but Nana's passing took a toll on him, you could see it. His smile wasn’t as wide as it normally would have been but by the look of it he wasn’t doing too bad of a job flirting with a girl at a table by the stage. 

You smiled at your cousin when he looked up at you with his own little grin. Yeah. You guys would be okay. Moving your gaze back to the stage you watched as the band finished their last song on a strong note, Eddie always loved a big finish when it came to his performances on stage. He was sweaty and winded but smiling at the ceiling lights as the last note was played, he really loved what he did. Turning to Robin you ordered Eddie a water knowing that his throat would need it after all that singing.

The crowd went wild as the band moved off the stage to take a break and mingle with the patrons of the bar. Eddie stopped at a few tables on his way to the counter, to you, he was checking in on the crowd seeing if they were having a good time or needed anything else. A few people slapped him on the back making him laugh with a well placed joke or comment. Soon he was behind you, his arms going around your waist so his chin could lean on your shoulder. “There’s my beautiful girl.”

“Well hello handsome.” You smiled as you looked at him the best you could from the awkward angle he was forcing. “You sounded great tonight. Sorry I missed most of it.”

“It’s okay. We’re playing again another day.” Smiling he kissed the side of your neck before he pulled back with a fake little pout. “And are you saying I don’t sound great every other night?”

“Yeah…” You smirked, it was time to mess with him. “You were a little pitchy last time.”

“Pitchy?!” He gasped as he leaned back to look you in the eye, his eyes narrowed when he saw that little gleam of mischief in them. Tickling your side he pushed his nose into your hair so he could whisper in your ear. “Oh you are such a brat.”

Your laugh was interrupted as the small redhead from open mic night walked up to Eddie. She was back in her tight corset and short skirt.“You were great tonight Eddie!”

“Huh?” He asked as he pulled back a little to look at her. Misty. She was a nice girl but extremely pushy. There was no telling how many times he had turned her down. “Oh, thanks Misty.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” She asked, lifting her hand towards the bar, cocking her head to the side in a flirtatious manner.

“No thanks, Misty. I’m good.” Eddie said as you passed him the water that you had asked Robin for. “My girls got that taken care of. Thanks baby."

“You’re welcome.” You smiled as you looked over at her before you turned around to take a sip of your own drink. 

“Then maybe I can buy you dinner sometime?” She batted her eyelashes at him this time. She was laying it on thick, trying to get Eddie to fall for her in some way shape or form. 

This whole conversation was awkward to be in the middle of and you looked over at Lizzy and Robin with a wide eyed glance. Was this girl really trying to pick up your boyfriend right in front of you? Lizzy gave you a knowing look back while Robin just shrugged and went about making a new drink for another customer. She had seen this time and time before, she knew Eddie wouldn’t go for it.

Eddie sighed, leaning his head against the back of yours as he rolled his eyes and whispered into your hair so quietly that you barely heard him, “She doesn’t give up…” Before he lifted his head and looked over at her. “No, thank you. I’m not into cheating. The only girl I’m going out to dinner with is this pretty girl right here.”  

“So… You're dating someone?” She asked in shock as she looked you over behind your back. Her tone made you look over your shoulder at her. “You told me you weren't interested in dating anyone right now.” 

“And I wasn't. Then I met her and I changed my mind. As a fully functioning adult and human with free will I'm allowed to do that.” Eddie said as he set the cup down on the counter next to your drink after he took a gulp of it, one of his hands caressed the small of your back while his other one sat on his hip.

Misty's lips puckered like she just sucked on a lemon and her eyes narrowed. “I've been trying to get your attention for months and this chick walks in one night and you fall all over her?!”

“Look Misty,” Eddie sighed as he dropped his hand from his hip to your thigh rubbing it up and down. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. If you don’t like the fact that I’m dating someone you don’t have to come back.”

“But that’s not fair!” She snapped looking at you again with a glare. You didn’t look like the type of girl Eddie would go for. What could he see in you? “She’s not even your type!”

Eddie blinked at her before he turned to look over at you, he took in your hair, your eyes, the little smile you always gave him when you looked at him. “Nah, she’s definitely my type.”

All of Misty’s questions and arguments were starting to get to you. So what if you didn’t dress like her? Sure you didn't dress the way people thought Eddie would like, you weren’t a metalhead or even a punk but Eddie was your boyfriend, your dom. He likes you for you. Rolling your eyes a little you look back at your drink trying to ignore Misty the best you could. 

Taking a deep breath Misty straightened her shoulders and stomped away back to her spot at the other end of the bar. 

“Well she's pissed.” You mutter at Eddie as he invades your space again. “Does she bother you a lot?”

“Yeah. She started coming around for a few months before you did and I made the mistake of sleeping with her. She has not left me alone since.” He shrugged as he laid his chin back on your shoulder. “She'll find someone else to cling on to, that's kinda what she does. I feel bad for hurting her feelings but she won't take no for an answer.”

“My offer to fight her still stands, Eddie Bear.” Lizzy said as she took a drink looking a little too eager to fight the redhead.

“And while I appreciate it, I think Jeff would kill me if I let that pretty face get hurt.” Eddie said as he poked her nose before he leaned over giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for the offer though.” 

You and Eddie laughed as Lizzy put her fists up punching the air in front of her slightly. “Just say the word.” 

“Hey Eddie!” Someone shouted over the music getting his attention. The older man waved in a come here motion. 

“Be right back babe. Behave. Both of you.” He said kissing the side of your head and ruffling Lizzy's hair, cause he knows she hates it, as he went by to see what was up.

“One day that boy is going to learn the hard way about messing with a black woman's hair…” Lizzy snarked as she fixed her ponytail. 

“I would pay to see that!” You said raising your drink in her direction. 

Lizzy lifted her own drink and tapped your glass with hers. “And I will take your money!”

After a while Gareth had taken up residence on the stool next to you, leaning over the bar to grab a lime slice to go with his tequila shot. “I have been looking forward to this shot all night!”

“Only one shot?” You asked as you watched him down it before he bit into the citrus in his hand.

“I promised my wife I wouldn’t drink a lot tonight.” He muttered around the slice. “She wants to have a serious conversation and being hung over is not an option.”

“Ooooh…” Lizzy smirked as Jeff wrapped his arms around her. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Maybe she’s pregnant…” You offered as you gave him a playful wide eyed look that made him nervous.

“Stop it.” Gareth quipped as he threw the rind at you. “I’m not ready to be a dad yet!”

You and Lizzy laughed at him as you took the last sip of your drink. Putting the empty glass on the counter you smiled as Robin and Steve joined you both behind the counter passing out drinks and taking payments. Eddie flitted about the bar going in between loving on you, taking smoke breaks, and talking to the people who had come out to see them play. It was just like old times and exactly what you needed, well except for the glares of a certain redhead being thrown your way from across the bar, you could have done without that, but you just ignored her. She wasn’t your problem.  

One of the times that Eddie had found himself behind the bar you hopped off the stool you were perched on and went around the counter. Since you were the boss's girlfriend you were more than welcome behind the bar but you mainly stayed on your stool more than content to watch them mix and serve drinks, you didn’t like feeling like you were in the way. Tonight though you had a plan to mess with Eddie. You needed to make a little bit of trouble to get back into the swing of things so to speak in your dynamic with him. He’s been treating you like spun glass since Nana passed and while you were grateful you were ready to go back to your regularly scheduled program. 

Coming up behind Eddie you wrapped your arms around his waist as he leaned on the counter talking to an older gentleman you haven't met before. His hand dropped down to hold yours as he looked over his shoulder at you, “Hey sweetheart. Come here I wanna introduce you to someone.”

You let him pull you around so you were standing between him and the bar so you could see the older man. “Hi.”

“Hey kiddo,” He said in his gruff voice. He was balding and the little hair he did have was gray and white, scruff covered the lower half of his face. He had the same kind look in his eyes that Eddie did. 

“Y/N, this is my Uncle Wayne.” Eddie introduced as he smiled down at you. “Wayne, this is my girlfriend Y/N.”

“Nice to finally meet the girl that Ed doesn’t shut up about.” Wayne smiled as he held his hand out for you to shake.

You laughed as you shook his hand. “He’s told me so much about you too! Please tell me you have embarrassing stories?!”

Wayne laughed as he took a sip of his beer. “Oh you bet I do. That boy’s been an adventure since the moment he stepped foot in my house!”

“Fuck...” Eddie sighed leaning his head back towards the ceiling. “This was a terrible idea.” 

The three of you chatted for a while laughing as Wayne told you of the time a young Eddie tried and almost succeeded in befriending the raccoon that dug through their trash at night. “That animal bit his arms up real good. He’s lucky there was little to no scarring. We spent almost a full night at the ER making sure that boy didn't get rabies!”

Snorting into your water you looked up at Eddie as he rolled his eyes. “A raccoon really?”

“What?! They’re wearing masks! They look like cute little bandits! I thought I could teach him to help me steal snacks!” He laughed. “I went for an easier pet next time.”

“A possum.” Wayne laughed into his glass as he finished the last mouthful. “He kept a possum in his room for three days until I found it. Little bastard started hissing at me from under the bed.”

“I would have gotten away with it too if you didn’t go searching for cigarettes.” Eddie mumbled into his own beer.

You shook your head as you laughed. 

“Laugh it up babe,” Eddie smirked as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, making you bite your lip to hold back your smile. “We’ll see who gets the last laugh later.”

Wayne smiled at the two of you as he pushed his empty glass away and stood up from his stool. “Time for this old man to head home. This is enough excitement for me for one night. Moving from the night shift to the day shift has me all tired.”

“You know you can always retire.” Eddie said as he watched his father figure stretch his tired muscles. “I can pay your bills as you do whatever you want. Shit you could go fishing everyday for all I care.”

“Maybe next year. But you ain’t payin’ for shit, I got my money handled just fine.” Wayne said with a look at Eddie before he turned to you. “It was nice meeting you sweetheart. You and Ed should come by for dinner soon.”

“I would love that!” You smiled.

“You two have a goodnight. I’ll talk to you later, son.” He said, leaning over the counter to pat  Eddie on his shoulder. Taking his wallet from his back pocket he dropped a couple bucks on the counter for his beer and gave you both a little wave before he moved through the crowded bar towards the door.

“I like him.” You smile as you look up at Eddie as he grabs the money off the counter and puts it into the tip jar. He would never tell his uncle that his money was no good here. So no matter the amount Wayne left on the counter it went straight into the tip jar for Robin and Steve to divide up later.

“He likes you too.” He smiled as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. 

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Eddie nodded as he looked down at you. “He wouldn't have invited you to dinner if he didn’t.” 

The thought made you smile, you had somehow won over his uncle, that was a big step. But you had no time to sit in that moment because now it was time to put your plan into action. Slowly you slipped your hand into the pocket of your sundress and produced a shitty pair of plastic handcuffs. It was the type you would get in a childs police officer costume. A kid at the bakery insisted on trading them for a cookie, a free cookie, but hey a trade was a trade. They were easy to break and wouldn’t hurt Eddie but it would get the point across and that’s what mattered. Quickly you slapped the cheap cuff onto his wrist and the otherside onto the handle of one of the fridges that sat under the counter. 

Eddie raised his brows at you as you ducked away from him when he went to grab you, a little smirk on his lips. He jostled his wrist that the plastic was holding him hostage. “Really?”

Jeff and the other boys leaned on the counter to get a better look and laughed at Eddie's plight. Biting his lip Jeff chuckled at him. “Gonna be the sub tonight Ed?”

“Shut up.” He muttered as he pulled a little on the cuff before looking over at you. “You wanna play this game?”

“Maybe,” You shrugged, sticking your tongue out at him. You winked as you took a step back out of his reach when he lunged for you, the tiny fridge door opening as he moved. “Careful baby. Don’t want to hurt your wrist.”

“The only thing that’s going to hurt tonight is that cute little ass of yours.” He smiled as he took a step back to close the door and fiddle with the cuff until it fell off his wrist. Standing up straight he pointed to the ground in front of him. “Get over here.”

“Hmmm,” You hummed as you rocked back and forth in your converse. “No.”

“Child.” A scoff sounded from behind you. 

Turning you looked at Misty as she rolled her eyes at you. “Excuse me?”

“I said you’re a child.” She sneered as she propped her head on her palm. “Why would you embarrass him like that? In his own bar? In front of his band?”

“I wasn’t…” You shook your head. You were just playing. Your brows scrunched together as you stared at her, your hands balling into fists at your sides. It was just a prank.

“Misty.” Eddie said in warning as he came up behind you. “Don’t listen to her baby, you're fine. You didn’t embarrass me.”

“I don't know what he sees in you…” She said ignoring Eddie. “You’re nothing special.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you stared at her. 

“And you think you are?” Lizzy asked as she leaned on the counter to get a look at her from where she sat not too far away. Jeff put his hand on her shoulder in warning.

“I would be better for him than you will ever be.” Misty said as she leaned in towards you. “I wouldn’t embarrass him or act like a child. I would be the perfect submissive.”

“Enough.” Eddie warned as he put his hand on your shoulder. “Don't listen to her Y/N… Hey. Look at me.”

You turned and looked at him, he didn’t seem bothered by your prank, so instead of dwelling you took a deep breath and rolled your eyes at Eddie to show your frustrations and shook your head turning back to look at Misty. “I’m not having this conversation. I’m sorry you feel slighted but that’s not my fault. Have a goodnight.”

“Scared I’m right?” She called as you started to walk away.

“No,” You shook your head again at her. “I just think this conversation is stupid. You’re just mad that Eddie made a choice and it wasn’t you. Simple as that.”

“Come on baby.” Eddie said, pulling you away from Misty. He wanted to get you as far away from the bitter woman as quickly as possible.

“I bet he’s only putting up with you cause you put out like a cheap whore.” Misty snapped, throwing one more jab at you as you turned to walk away. 

Your steps faltered as you snapped your head around to face Misty. You were getting really tired of people who don’t know or care about you calling you a whore. “Wanna say that again?”

“I said. You’re. A. Cheap. Whore.” 

Eddie could see you were about to fly over the counter at her so he grabbed you around the waist pulling you back to him. Your back slamming against his chest. “Okay, calm down, feisty pants.” 

Looking at Misty he glared at her for a moment before he was distracted by you. You were fighting Eddie's hold on you not caring that your nails were digging into his arm as you tried to get at her but he wasn't having it. Leaning down so only you could hear he muttered in your ear. “Take it easy, she's not worth it.” 

“Eddie. Let me go!” You said as you tried to lunge for her, making her take a step back in shock she hadn't expected that. She had expected you to sulk like a child not try to fight her. The other patrons of the busy bar turned to see what the commotion was about. “I'm not going to hurt her, I'm just going to rip her hair out!” 

“No you won’t.” Eddie said sternly as you struggled in his arms.

“I’ll do it…” Lizzy said moving to get off the stool but Jeff pulled her back with a hand on the back of her neck. That shut her up quickly but she was still seething.

“Let me go Eddie!” 

“Nope.” Eddie announced and lifted you off the ground easily, carrying you out from behind the bar and over to the stairs. As he placed you back down on your feet he blocked you from getting back down the steps. His dom voice in full effect as he pointed at the ground “Stay here.” 

You tried to push past him but he wasn’t going to budge. Sometimes you forget how stupid strong your boyfriend is. You wouldn’t know it by looking at him but he wasn’t a pushover. With both hands on the railings as he took a step up so he could now tower over you. “Enough Y/N. Get upstairs. Now.”

Glaring at him you stomped your foot like the child Misty said you were. You hissed out his name before he gave you a stern look making you huff in anger before stomping up the stairs muttering the entire time.

He watched you go before turning around to look at Misty. The anger he felt in his chest for her was overpowering. He had never regretted sleeping with someone more than in this moment. She had put some weird claim on him and that was ending right now. He was never comfortable with the attention that Misty had lavished him with but he dealt with the photos and her slipping him her number, not wanting to look like some asshole rockstar but tonight he wasn’t having it. Enough was enough. You had finally felt okay enough to come back out and she had to open her big mouth. Dom voice still out to play he moved back to the counter glaring at her. “You need to leave.”

“She tried to attack me!”

“You provoked her.” Eddie said, trying to stay calm. “Everyone saw it.”

“But Eddie..” She muttered as she looked around. 

“No.” He said with a shake of his head. “I’m not interested in your excuses, Misty. Whether you like it or not, I have a girlfriend. So I won’t be having dinner or drinks with you tonight or ever. It’s time to let that idea go. You’re no longer welcomed here. Get out."

“You made a mistake picking her. You'll see.” Misty seethed for a moment before she flipped her hair over her shoulder and grabbed her purse muttering about not wanting to be in this shit bar anyway under her breath.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Eddie yelled back at her. Watching her leave he sighed as he looked at his friends. “Make sure she doesn’t come back, yeah? I need to check on Y/N.”

“No problem..” Robin said with a nod. She was happy to see her go but watching that scene had ramped up her anxiety a little. She would not have pegged you for the fighting type.

“I'll make sure of it,” Steve said with a nod and a serious look on his face. It had been a long time since he's seen you like that and he hated every single second of it. Moving around the counter he followed Misty’s path and stood at the door watching as she got in her car and drove away. 

Nodding his thanks, Eddie walked through the crowd and up the steps to the top landing, moving around the walkway until he was at his door. He took a moment to calm himself a bit more before he opened the door. He needed to go in with a level head. Twisting the knob he pushed the door open slowly, he could hear you muttering to yourself and he had to duck the moment he walked through the door as a pillow sailed through the air towards his head hitting the wall next to him. Closing the door behind him, he grabbed it from the floor and tossed it back on the couch. “Easy babe."

“I'm… ugh!” You cried as you paced around the living room. “You should have let me hit her!”

“That wouldn’t have made the situation better.”

“It would have made me feel better!”

“Calm down sweetheart.” Eddie said, holding his hands up. “She’s gone anyway.”

“Tell me to calm down one more time.” You threaten glaring at him as he walks farther into the room. Huffing you watched him cross his arms again, his eyebrows disappearing under his bangs. 

“If you don't lose the tone I’m going to beat it out of you. Take a breath.” Stepping into your path he grabbed your shoulders rubbing his thumbs over your spaghetti strap covered shoulders. “Don't let her get to you like this. She’s not worth any of this.” 

“Did you hear what she said? She called me a whore. I'm so sick of being called a whore for no reason. First my dad and then that bitch! She was acting like we didn’t belong together. Just cause I don’t dress or act like her… like she’s so fucking special.” If the situation wasn’t so hostile Eddie would have said that angry look on your face was hot. But now was not the time and you were still ranting. Once you got started it was hard to stop. “You make me happy… and I make you happy right? So she has no place to talk about our relationship…”

“Yes baby you make me very happy and you're right she doesn't. But right now I'm very disappointed in how you handled that situation.” He said as he cupped your jaw in his big palms.

“What? Why?” You asked, your eyes wide with shock. It's not like you actually hit her. 

“Let's count. You handcuffed me to a fridge, almost started a fight in my bar, was a complete brat on the stairs, and then you threw something at me. If we count all those offenses up you owe me… five per offense… so twenty hits.” 

You whined at him with a pout wanting to protest. It wasn't your fault! “She started it, that's not fair Eddie!”

“Nope, nuh uh, not getting out of this. I understand you didn’t start it and that you were upset but you almost jumped someone. I've never seen you act like that, and as incredibly hot as that was, that’s not how good girls act is it? So..” He kissed your forehead before he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the couch making you face away from him. “Get undressed.”

“But Ed-Sir I-”

“No more buts. Strip and wait for me.” He said as he gave your ass a slap. “That doesn’t count as one.”

“Yes, Sir.” You mumbled as you started to pull your dress off your form. You listened as he moved around the room, the sound of a drawer opening caught your attention as you tossed your dress on the usual spot, the one chair he had in his living room, your panties soon joining it after you toed off your shoes and socks. You heard him walk back towards you, felt the heat of him against your back but he never touched you, not yet. You wanted so badly to look over your shoulder at him but you also wanted to hear him call you a good girl again so you had to listen. 

Eddie moved around you, setting down the items he had in his hand before he took a seat on the center cushion of the couch holding his hand out to you. “Come on baby. No more waiting.”

Sighing, you took his hand and let him pull you over his lap adjusting you to his preference, your ass on his lap and your chest on the cushion next to him. Then he started your punishment, by kneading the fat of your ass. You gasped and wiggled when he gave a couple of quick slaps to your sit spots. 

“Sit still.” He commanded as he continued his slaps breaking them up with more kneading. 

“Sorry Sir.” You whispered as you counted the slaps in your head when he went past twenty you glanced back at him. 

“This is just a warm up baby.” He said giving you one more powerful smack before kneading the spot. Once he was sure you were ready, the blood flowing to your bottom heating your skin, he grabbed the wooden paddle and showed it to you. “Twenty hits. Count them out for me, you can cry if you gotta. What’s your safeword?”

“Red, Sir.”

“Good. Deep breath.” He waited until you took your breath before he started, the sound of the paddle making a loud crack against your skin had you gasping and your eyes closed at the pain. He was starting out easy.

“One.”

Smack.

“Two.”

Smack.

“Three.” You clenched your fists on the cushion. The hits were getting steadily harder as he hit you in quick succession. “Four, five, six.”

“Why are you being punished, baby?” He asked as he smacked you again.

“S-seven. I almost started a fight..” You muttered your eyes starting to tear up. This hurt so damn bad. “A-and I was a brat and threw a pillow at you.”

“And?” Another two smacks on your sit stops. 

“Eight! Nine! I handcuffed you to the fridge!” You cried as you tried to not focus on the pain when he smacked you again. Shame welled up in your chest making you feel terrible. “Ten!”

He took a break then, rubbing the small of your back as you tried to control your breathing tears falling down your cheeks. “Doing so good, baby. Ten more. You can do it.”

The last ten hurt so badly that you shoved your face in the cushion to hide your sobs as he hit harder and harder and you counted higher and higher. At one point you swung your arm back to try and stop him but he just grabbed your wrist and held it tightly at the small of your back. “Don’t do that. I could hurt you. A bruised ass is nothing compared to broken fingers.”

“I’m sorry, Sir!” 

The very last one was the worst, making you cry out into the room. “Twenty!”

“That’s it. All done. You did so good sweetheart. So good for me aren’t you, baby?” He said as he dropped the paddle on the cushion next to him out of your line of sight and pulled you up carefully to sit in his lap. Your flaming cheeks hitting his jeans made you hiss out in discomfort as he cuddled you. “Deep breaths. Good girl. My sweet girl.”

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled into his shoulder as you leaned into him. “I’m sorry, Sir.” 

“It’s okay baby. Water under the bridge right?”

“Y-yes Sir,” You nodded sniffling. That feeling of shame was still sitting heavy in your chest, this punishment didn’t make you feel better at all. How could you have been so thoughtless? Trying to fight that girl, you were just as ugly as she was. Nana would be disappointed in you. She taught you better than this. Whore.

He leaned back on the couch letting you get comfortable on his lap as he ran his hand up and down your arm, whispering sweet things to you as you settled down. “You okay? What's your color?”

You didn’t feel okay but you nodded anyway. Placing a kiss on the side of his neck you looked up at him as he maneuvered you to straddle his thighs with his hands on your hips. Sniffing you wiped under your eyes. “Green, Sir.”

“You sure?” He asked as he watched you. He searched your eyes trying to see if he needed to call it.

“I'm okay," You nodded. You felt heavy in a bad way but you continued to nod anyway. “I'm okay.”

“If you're sure, beautiful.” He mumbled as he looked into your red and mascara smudged eyes. “You gonna continue to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, Sir.” You nodded.

“Took your punishment so well. I think you deserve a reward.” A mischievous little grin grew on his face as he manhandled you so you were standing between his legs with your back to him as he brought your hands behind you and placed a pair of leather cuffs around your wrists. 

Usually this would have done something for you. Excitement would have burst through your veins but all you felt was a tightening on your chest and a sick feeling in your gut. You didn't want to do this. Your safeword was at the tip of your tongue but when he turned you around the smile he gave you made you swallow it. He looked so proud of you and happy to be doing something you usually both found fun and you had caused him so much trouble tonight. Could you really ruin his night even more? Giving him the best smile you could muster, you let him move you around so you were back on the couch, the fabric rubbing against your abused bottom as you laid down. You moved around until you found a comfortable position for your hands and watched down your body as Eddie picked up the vibrator from the same cushion the paddle sat on. 

You heard it before you felt it and jumped a little as the head of the vibrator hit your clit. Closing your eyes you tried to focus on that, just focus on how the vibrator made you feel. It felt good but you still couldn't get into the right headspace. You were thinking too much. Whore. Shame still bubbling inside you. He said you didn't but you couldn't stop thinking about how you had embarrassed Eddie in his own home, in front of his friends and patrons and fans. Tears bit at your eyes making them sting. Whore. You felt his fingers start to prod at your entrance but you weren't wet enough. This wasn't what you wanted. The tears you were holding back finally pushed through and you were sinking into the shame that was drowning you as you gasped out your safeword. “Red... Eddie red. Red.”

His eyes snapped up to you as he stopped immediately, you felt him move his hand away from you and heard as he tossed the vibe on the table. His hands came back towards you grabbing your shoulders gently and pulled you to him to lean on his chest as he reached around you to get the cuffs off. Tossing them to the side he pulled you into his lap again his arms holding you tight as if he could hold you together while you cried into his shoulder. “Shhh it's okay baby. You're okay.” 

“I'm sorry,” You repeated as you sobbed. “I'm sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry I didn't notice you weren't in the right headspace. I'm proud of you for using your safeword. Such a good girl.” He whispered into your hair as he rocked you, shushing you the whole time.

“I have to go. I need to leave.” You muttered as you tried to pull away, shaking your head. You needed to stop being a burden and hide away with your shame. You embarrassed him. You weren’t any better then Misty, and you brought shame to yourself and the memory of your grandmother. Was she watching you right now? Was her spirit mad at you for being so weak and letting Eddie do this to you? Did she think you were a whore too? Everyone else seemed to think you were. 

“No baby, no.” Eddie said, shaking his head. Leaning back so he could get a good look at your face he cupped your jaw gently, his big brown eyes searching yours as you cried. It was finally happening. You were dropping. “No sweetheart, you're not going anywhere. I got you. I'm right here. I’ll take care of you.” 

You shook your head but continued to let him hold you as he grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch. Pulling it over you to warm you, tucking it around your body, careful of your stinging ass. He simply held you for a long time. Knowing that after a scene you needed that closeness as he brought you back down but today the quiet did nothing to settle your racing thoughts but having him just holding you helped a little. You started to calm down and your tears were finally drying up. He moved, bundling you up more and laying you gently on the couch before he got up and went into the bathroom to get some lotion for your butt. You watched as he moved into the kitchen to get your aftercare snacks. He managed to juggle all the things in his hands as he came back over setting them down on the table. 

Handing you your water bottle he stroked your head calmly as he watched you take small sips before you handed it back and he gave you some fruit snacks. Placing your bottle on the floor next to you for when you needed it. He also had your favorite chocolate sitting there in case you wanted some. Holding up the bottle of lotion, he smiled at your little nod and helped you turn around lifting the blanket up and off your bare ass so he could rub some on. You hissed a few times but made no real objection to his gentle massage. The lotion was cool and it felt nice as you wiped your nose on the blanket.

“I saw that,” He chuckled as he finished rubbing the lotion into your skin. Pulling the blanket back down he set the lotion back on the table and helped you turn back around moving your head so he could sit down and you could use his thigh as a pillow. His hand is now sitting softly on your chest while the other stroked your hair some more. “Feeling better?”

“Not really.” You mumbled.

“Wanna talk about what happened?” He asked as he played with a lock of your hair. “You can tell me anything, you know that right?” 

“I know.” You hiccupped as you looked up at him. You thought for a moment and then you told him everything. All of your feelings, the shame you felt, how you were sure your Nana was angry with you, how you were starting to feel like everyone was right and maybe you are a whore. 

“No.” Eddie shook his head. “None of that is true. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You're not a whore, and your grandmother isn't mad at you.”

“It's not the first time someone's called me a whore you know? There was this guy in college. We had been fooling around for a while and I brought this up and he rejected it. Told me that this kind of stuff was for whores and he couldn’t be with a whore. I told him to fuck off. I don't know why it bothered me so much this time.” You sniffed, biting your lip.

“First of all, if you ever see that guy, point him out. I’ll punch him in his stupid face. Second, you've had a hard few weeks, baby. A lot has happened that’s thrown you for a loop.” He said as he dragged his finger over your forehead and down your nose. “Not to mention we rushed into this today. It was your first night playing in a while and I had to give you a punishment and not one of the fun ones you like. I misjudged that. I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault.” You said taking your hand out of the blanket to reach for his face. You smiled a little when you felt him kiss your palm and hold it to his cheek. “I know I was being a brat. Are you okay? I didn’t upset you did I?”

“No baby you didn’t.” Eddie said as he shook his head. He was now only disappointed in himself for not seeing the signs but all he could do was make a note of it and do better next time. No one was perfect, not even him. He smiled down at you. “I'm fine. I could use some cuddles though. Wanna get in your Pj's and watch TV while we cuddle?”

“Yes please.” You nodded as you went to sit up, Eddie helping you with a little push on your back to help you. He followed you up not long after, watching as you walked to the bathroom to wash your face. He took a detour to his dresser to grab your Pj's.

It's been about an hour since the start of your drop and you still weren't feeling like yourself. This is the first time you've ever dealt with it so you didn't even know how long it was supposed to last. Has Eddie ever dealt with this? Did it always feel like this? Sighing, you adjusted on the couch as you curled into Eddie as best you could. You both had been mindlessly watching some cartoons on the TV. You think it was Futurama, that's what Eddie said it was at least. 

“You okay baby?” He asked as he played with the back of your sleep shirt. The one you always wore here, the Iron Maiden one. Eddie tilted his head at you, his hair being mushed by the pillow under it. 

“Just thinking.” You said looking up at him. “You said you were a sub before you were a dom right?”

“Mhm.” He nodded. 

“Have you… dropped… before?” 

“Plenty of times.” He confirmed as he looked down at you, his hand still fiddling with your shirt. “I would hit a real low sometimes. I had a lot to work through at that time and the drops only made it worse. It felt really lonely.” 

“This doesn't feel like loneliness…” You give him a sad look. “How long does this usually last?”

“It’s different for everyone. It could be a few hours or a few days. All we can do is make sure you're feeling comfortable and safe. I'll be right here with you for as long as you need. I'm not letting you go through this alone.” 

You nodded looking back at the TV. You needed something else to distract you, the cartoon wasn't cutting it. “Tell me about your time as a sub? How did you get into all this?”

Eddie stared at you for a bit, like he was thinking of a way out of this conversation and for a moment you thought he was going to avoid it all together but instead he sighed and closed his eyes. “It's not a fun story and I'm not proud of it. I made mistakes when I was younger and I paid for them but I need you to understand that I'm not that kid anymore. I've grown up a lot. Can you listen with an open mind?”

You nodded your head. What could he possibly tell you that would make you think any differently? “I will. I promise.” 

“Okay.” He said as he took a breath trying to figure out how to start his sad tale. “Remember how that night on the porch when we talked about our parents, I told you I lived with Wayne until I was about twenty?”

“Yeah.” You nodded blinking up at him.

“When I was twenty I was still living with Wayne in that one bedroom trailer, I was in my third year as a high school senior, and no matter how much I tried I couldn’t find a job in that town to save my life. Everyone thought that I was no good. The town freak. Because I didn’t dress like the others, or listen to their shitty music, and I played D&D. I was the devil sent to corrupt their children and since I was doing so poorly in school I was seen as unreliable for the workforce so no one would hire me. Wayne was working long hours at the plant to keep us above water but money was tight so I did the only thing I could. I met up with the local dealer, Reefer Rick, and I started dealing for him. I was good at it. Jocks, cheerleaders, burnouts, nerds, desperate housewives, stuffy business men; you name them I gave them drugs. Weed mostly, a few pills here and there, but I never sold the hard stuff and I tried not to sell to minors.” Eddie always tried to be smart about who he sold to. He closed his eyes as if he could look back in time and see where it all went wrong. “There was this one girl that year, Chrissy, she was the Queen of Hawkins High. Popular, a cheerleader, always smiling but no one knew how terrible her home life was. She was stressed, had trouble sleeping, and just needed help. She asked to meet up after school for a deal and I tried to sell her weed but she needed something stronger, so I sold her Special K. Ketamine.”

You blinked at him completely enraptured by his story. He looked so sad. You had never seen him like this before, so you did your best to wrap your arms around him as he took a moment. Saying her name after all these years made his chest tighten and he took in a little stuttered breath, his hand stopped moving as he clenched your shirt in his fist. 

“What I didn’t know was that she had been stockpiling the pills. Her mother was hard on her, she always had to be perfect, and one day she just couldn’t do it anymore. She OD’d on the drugs I had sold her. If I had known this was her plan I would have never sold them to her. Her friends knew she was buying from me so when that happened they told the cops where she got them, they came and searched the trailer. Found my stash and I was arrested for possession and the selling of illegal substances. They tried to get me for her death but since I just sold the pills and didn’t force her to take them they couldn’t. I also got a lighter sentence because I ended up cutting a deal and giving them the name of my supplier. In the end I was sentenced to five years in prison.”

“Oh, baby.” You muttered as you hugged him. “Five years?”

“I only served three out of the five I was sentenced to. Got out early for good behavior with one year of probation.” He looked down at you now, that sadness was still pinching at his features. “Does that change how you see me? Knowing I was in jail on drug charges? Slightly responsible for the death of the one person in that fucking school who was ever nice to me?”

“It wasn’t your fault.” You said, shaking your head. “None of this changes how I feel about you.”

“Good.” He sighed in relief as he moved his hand to cup the back of your head. “I don’t want you to be scared of me or anything because of this.”

“I'm not scared of you.” You whispered, pressing your face into his chest. "Never could be."

“I’m glad.” He smiled at you a little. He took a moment to let you take in all the information before he continued with his story. “I got out just after my twenty-third birthday and I was… angry. Really angry. No one tells you about the shit you have to deal with when you’re on the inside of a prison and how it would make you feel once you’re out. I was so scared that Wayne was going to hate me, that all he was going to think was that I was just like my old man. But he didn't. He would visit every week and when I got out he welcomed me back home. I crashed on his couch until I was able to get a job as a mechanic with the help of my probation officer and saved up enough to get a shitty apartment in town. I was careful for that first year I was out, never did anything that would make it so I had to go back. But when that year was up… I spiraled. Hard. I’m talking about drinking, drugs, anything to make me forget and it was bad. I barely remember this but I was at a bar in Indianapolis one night and I was plastered apparently but I got into it with this biker guy, he almost murdered me, but some guy in a business suit stepped in and saved my ass. That guy was Daniel Christianson.”

“I’ve heard of him.” You spoke up then. “Seen his billboards on the highways and around town when I go into the city.”

“Big time lawyer man.” Eddie laughed a bit then. “Well mister big shot, don’t tell him I said that, took me to his place to sleep it off, said he didn’t trust me to make good decisions so he revoked my driving privileges. Stole my keys right out of my pocket. The next morning when I was more or less myself I wanted to leave but he didn’t let me, not until we talked about what happened that night. I was about ready to fight him but he put me on my ass. He saw that I was lost, and angry, and that I just didn’t care about what happened to me. He had been in this community for a while but hadn’t had a submissive for a few years. He brought it up carefully saying he could help me and gave me his number and time to think about it after he dropped me off at the bar so I could go home. I sat on it for a few days, BDSM was something I hadn’t really thought of before. I mean, I’m a guy, so yeah I’ve seen the porn, had a ridiculous amount of dirty mags that kinda leaned towards it, so I thought what the hell. I’ll give it a try and if I don’t like it I can leave. So I called him, we set up a meeting, and he became my Master. I stayed with him as his sub for about three or four years. He helped me get my head on straight and taught me a lot, he helped me let go and forgive Chrissy and myself. When I decided I wanted to try being a Dom he took over my training, everything I know is because of him. He was with me when Corroded Coffin got back together, when we got our first record deal, when we bought the bar, and everything else after that. He’s actually my lawyer.” He sighed as he played with a lock of your hair. “And that's the whole story.”

“Damn,” You muttered as you blinked. All of your issues seem so frivolous now. “You had a rough couple of years. I’m surprised none of this has gotten out before.”

“Dan looks through all our contracts and interview questions so no one can ask questions we don’t feel comfortable answering,” Eddie said, his fingers tugging at your hair. “It wouldn’t look good for the record company if my history got out so no one knows anything we don’t want them to. I told you because I trust you.”    

“I won't tell a soul.” You promised as you held up your pinky. A little giggle left you as he hooked his pinky with yours and pulled it to his lips dropping a kiss to your knuckles with a little grin. 

“Thank you sweetheart."

Tag List:

@eddiesprincess86 @haylaansmi @micheledawn1975

[cafecitowriter]

Death Is Only the Beginning - Chapter 6: Sam

Summary: Agent Peggy Carter disappeared near the end of World War II, during the climactic battle with the leader of Hydra: The Red Skull. While the Valkyrie never landed and millions of lives were saved, no one ever found Agent Carter - or even what had truly happened to her.

Nearly 80 years later, Steve Rogers discovers a compass with a picture of a beautiful woman inside the lid. For a reason he can’t quite place, he decides to keep it.

A/N: Another chapter update this soon can only mean that this update was also written for Steggy Week 2023! Although this time it's for Day 7: Free ChoiceThank you all for sticking with me!

Many thanks to @steggyfanevents for an awesome Steggy Week this year!

Read Chapter on AO3

Read from the Beginning

Chapter Preview:

Sam ushered Steve inside, both of them taking another look to make sure there was no one else outside. Once the door was closed, Steve spoke in a soft murmur.

“Nat and Bucky are on their way, so expect them next. It should just be the four of us so if anyone else comes knocking - even any other SHIELD agents, regard them as suspicious.”

“Four of you?”

“I - yeah. Four.”

Sam gave him a curious look, heading to the closed curtains and peeking out briefly. When he was seemingly satisfied, he turned back to Steve.

“Alright, what’s the threat, and what’s our plan?”

“The threat are moles within SHIELD. We don’t know how many but it goes deep, and now they know that we’re onto them which means we need to act quickly. The current plan is to come up with a plan when Nat and Buck get here.”

“Great, real solid stuff we have to work from here.”

Steve sighed as Sam took a pointed sip of his orange juice. At least Sam was only teasing him. Mostly.

“We were in the middle of discussing our next steps but then they found us.”

“Who’s they?”

“The organization that’s infiltrated SHIELD. They’re a specific scientific subdivision of Nazis that started in World War II called Hydra.”

“Of course it had to be goddamn Nazis,” Sam swore. “You need me to bring the wings?”

“Yes. Seeing as we’ve already lost the element of surprise, we need every other advantage we can get.”

“Done, anything else I should know before our backup arrives?”

“Yes.”

When he didn’t continue, Sam raised his eyebrow and placed his glass of orange juice down on the counter.

“You have my full attention. Now are you gonna tell me what I need to know or are you gonna make me guess?”

“I…” Steve sighed. “Look there’s no easy way to do this so you just have to promise not to freak out.”

[jplupine]

Feral Possession: Chapter 33

Talks

Pairing: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Wynter Hughes [Nonbinary OC] Word Count: ~4.8k WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, Exophilia, Demon!Grimmjow, Feral Behavior, Mentions of familial death [non-graphic] and past abuse [non-graphic]

Summary: Things are taking a turn in directions unknown.

A/N: Updating for other fics will start picking back up now that I no longer have to grind for my 31 Days of Bleach project xD Thank y'all for being patient!

You can also read it on AO3!

Masterlist | Chapter 33:

  Scooping coffee grounds into the filter placed in the coffee machine, I felt Grimmjow nuzzle the side of my head as he somewhat leaned on me. Even though I'd been awake less than 30 minutes, he was already clinging to me. But I couldn't say I disliked it as he had his arms around me.

  Closing the coffee machine's lid, I turned it on, and it started brewing.

  Nel's first night here had actually been calmer than expected after giving her a thorough explanation of our situation. She actually seemed more capable of handling things than Grimmjow- Perhaps due to her living among humans for some time now already. It was hard to go to sleep at first knowing she was in the house, but having Grimmjow next to me eventually got me to relax.

  Lips brushed my temple before Grimmjow's cheek rubbed against mine. I couldn't tell if he just wanted affection or if he was silently begging for breakfast like a housecat. Reaching up into one of the cabinets for some mugs, his hand slid across my stomach that had been somewhat exposed from my shirt riding up.

  "Feel like breakfast tacos?" I asked, and he hummed with approval. The scent of freshly brewing coffee filled the kitchen, and I heard hooves come clomping down the stairs. Grimmjow didn't pull away in the slightest even when Nel came into the kitchen and saw him clinging to me.

  "Unsettling, and yet kind of cute." She popped off after quietly staring at us for a few seconds.

  "Shut up." Grimmjow grumbled.

  "C'mon. Seeing you like this is like if Hell froze over, as humans say."

  "Would you like some coffee?" I glanced at Nel, and she nodded with a smile.

  "Yes, please."

  "Man. You never use manners like that." I tapped Grimmjow's cheek before reaching for another mug. He softly growled before nipping the corner of my jaw. "I'm also gonna make breakfast tacos if you want any."

  "Ooo, yesss." Nel got closer while eyeing the coffee pot to watch the hot liquid drip into the transparent pot. "No wonder Pantera has been staying here. This place is amazing." I couldn't help but scoff.

  "So I take it you slept well, too?"

  "Oh, the best sleep I've gotten in a long time. The peace and quiet, the soft mattress-" Nel made a noise almost like a trill while holding her face and smiling. "And now I get breakfast!"

  "So you're over what I am?" I questioned, and Nel leaned on the counter.

  "I don't see a reason to get hung up on it if you're not planning on attacking me. In fact, I'm very interested in knowing more about you, Wynter." Nel leaned closer only to get growled at by Grimmjow. "You're so territorial." She huffed while shooting the other demon a look as she backed away.

  "No kidding." I muttered under my breath.

  "Just make breakfast." Grimmjow growled.

  "This should help with the flooring." I said while adjusting the socks on Nel's hooves. She hummed while looking at her hooves before placing them on the floor. The fabric dampened the sound and she stood up.

  "Feels a bit strange." She placed her hands on her hips and took a few steps. Nel was now nearly silent as she moved around, and her ears perked. "Oh, I could get used to this."

  "Great. I know hoof pads are a thing, but I figured this would be easier....and cheaper." I gestured at her hooves, and she smiled.

  "Of course. I'll try to remember to wear these when in this form." Nel moved around a little more to get used to the feeling of the socks. I'd been trying to get work done, but hearing her clomping around had been distracting. Not to mention I was worried her hooves might leave marks on the floor if she wasn't careful.

  Thankfully, with her politeness and patience, I'd been able to get her to sit down and try out the socks.

  "Awesome. I'm gonna get back to work now, then."

  "Work? Is that what you've been doing in there?"

  "Yeah. I'm an editor when not studying demons." I chuckled as Nel followed me back toward the office. "I mainly work with books. Sometimes my friends will get a free quick read-over, though."

  "Is that why you have so many books?"

  "Nah. Most of these were my uncle's." I replied while walking into the office. Grimmjow was lying across the desk with his hands behind his head.

  "I see." Nel wandered over to one of the bookshelves to look over the titles present. "You mentioned your uncle could seal demonic powers inside books. Can you?" She asked while running her finger over one of the book spines.

  "Not yet." I sat down in my chair and put my glasses back on. "I only know a few low-grade exorcism spells, and the binding spells I know don't separate the demon from their power."

  "Do you seek demons out to train?"

  "I don't have to when they seem to be drawn here. I've learned to more or less hide my spiritual energy, but some still sniff me out." My gaze then drifted to the window when I saw a shadow go across the curtain. The window was then opened before Tigre crawled out from under the curtain.

  Nel was looking at Grimmjow and I with a bit of confusion but didn't otherwise react when she saw that we didn't. Tigre, however, froze when he saw Nel.

  "So he just comes in through the window like that?" Nel questioned.

  "Sometimes." I softly sighed while looking at her before turning to the shorter demon. "The A/C is on, Tigre." His tail twitched, and he reached back to shut the window.

  "What's she doing here? Don't tell me another has fallen under your spell."

  "Again, it's not a spell. Now, what's today's visit about?" I watched Tigre's ears perk before he got closer to rest his chin on my knee.

  "Do the thing." He demanded, and I scoffed. Placing my hand on his head behind his horns, I ran my fingers through his hair. "Behind the ears, too." Tigre purred as I rubbed behind his ear and tilted his head.

  "Oh, my...." Nel looked surprised. "So it's real?"

  "Really not magick."

  "Have they not done this to you, Gamuza?" Tigre asked.

  "No." Nel's answer made him pause since he realized what he'd just done in front of her by putting his head in my lap to be pet. He quickly recoiled away from me with his ears flat against his skull. "Wanna try it on me?" Nel stood beside me now while pointing at herself.

  "Sure." I reached up and ran my fingers through her hair while rubbing her scalp. She slowly closed her eyes and softly smiled.

  "That does feel nice. But I wouldn't consider this a spell." Nel had a calm tone while Tigre looked bewildered.

  "It doesn't have the same effect?"

  "Apparently not. Interesting." I muttered and even rubbed behind her ear. She hummed before looking at me.

  "I will admit that it's rather relaxing."

  "Told you it wasn't magick." I shrugged and leaned back in my chair. Looking at Tigre, I raised my eyebrows at him. "So, what've you got?"

  "....With word spreading of how Pantera is still alive, the Espada are wondering what has kept anyone from seeing or hearing of him for this long. He isn't known for keeping quiet, you see." Tigre glanced from Grimmjow to me as his tail flicked. "There is talk of finding him to confirm that he's alive."

  "Oh, that's not good." Nel muttered.

  "My word isn't enough." Tigre stated as he leaned closer toward me. "Arrancar will begin trying to seek him out. It won't be long before they find this place."

  I paused while letting his words sink in. My jaw clenched as my heart picked up pace thinking of the danger this meant I'd be in. Sure, there were two Arrancar now calling this place home, but one was a former Espada while the other was ranked 6th. That meant there were more Espada much stronger than him and more willing to kill me.

  "I-" My voice cut off when Grimmjow suddenly sat up with a sigh. His legs swung over the edge of the desk so that he could stand. He formed his sword while turning to face Tigre. "Pantera?"

  Grimmjow didn't respond and grabbed some of his hair. We were all watching him as he raised the sharp edge of his sword. No one said anything even when he cut some of his hair off and held out the severed strands to Tigre.

  "This should be enough." His tone was firm as he looked down at the smaller demon.

  "....What?"

  "You said your word isn't enough. This will be. Tell them I said to leave me the fuck alone."

  "I'm not your Fraccion-" Tigre stopped when Grimmjow crouched to be at his level. His sword vanished into smoke when he let it go and grabbed Tigre's jaw. Grimmjow's presence became suffocating and heavy as he looked into Tigre's eyes.

  "But you're still a Fraccion. Remember your place, Tigre. You'll get your ass up and take this with you to prove that I'm alive. I don't want those fuckers anywhere near my territory, is that understood?" Grimmjow's tone was harsh, but his face was unchanging and set in a dangerously calm expression. The threat in his eyes was unmistakable and piercing.

  Tigre could only nod, and Grimmjow tightened his grip on the smaller demon's jaw.

  "I mean it, Tigre. Little Rabbit was there to save your ass last time, but they won't even have the chance to stop me from tearing you apart piece by piece if you don't obey."

  "U-Understood." Tigre's ears were flat against his skull, and he held up a shaky hand. Grimmjow dropped the chunk of severed hair into the other demon's waiting hand while maintaining eye contact.

  The tension in the air dissipated as Grimmjow roughly let Tigre's jaw go.

  "Stop making that face." Grimmjow's tone cut through the silence, and I looked up at him as he threw back the blankets on the bed. Spitting out toothpaste foam into the sink, I sighed through my nose.

  "Can you blame me for making it?"

  "I don't even know why you're making it."

  "What you did earlier. I wasn't expecting you to do something like that." I turned on the water to rinse out my toothbrush.

  "Gonna have to be more specific."

  "Cutting your hair." Looking back at Grimmjow again, I saw him holding one of the pillows as he stood beside the bed. His brows were deeply furrowed, and his eyes drifted up in my direction.

  "It's just hair."

  "And it's yours."

  "So?"

  "So I've never seen you do something like that." I turned off the water and set my toothbrush down before leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed. "I also would've figured you'd rather fight them." Grimmjow's ears twitched and he dropped the pillow back onto the bed.

  "Are you stupid?"

  "No, ass. Just wondering why you did what you did."

  "....I could smell your fear."

  "I thought you liked that."

  "I'm greedy." Grimmjow then began to walk my way, his paws silently going across the floor as his eyes reflected the bathroom's light. "The only demon you should fear is me."

  "You expect me to still be afraid of you? After everything that's happened?"

  "You should." He looked down at me and gently grabbed my jaw to lift my face. "I own your soul, Little Rabbit. I can do with it as I please. I may not be able to hurt you now....but that doesn't apply after your death."

  "Would you, though?"

  "What?"

  "Hurt me. Once you have my soul, would you really hurt me?" I asked, and he went quiet for a moment as he studied my face.

  "Depends on how I feel by the time you die."

  "Do you think your feelings will change by then?" I questioned while gently grabbing some of his hair to look at the clean cut his sword had left.

  "Who knows."

  "Based on how you feel now, would you?"

  "Hm." He gave a short hum as his thumb brushed over my lips. "Maybe just a little." I chuckled before gently pulling his hair to get him to lower his face.

  "I'm okay with just a little." I pecked his lips, and the corners of his mouth twitched up. "See? How can I be scared when you have such a cute smile."

  "I wouldn't use 'cute' to describe me, Little Rabbit."

  "I would. I did. And thank you."

  "For?"

  "What you did. No matter what your reasoning is, you do make me feel safe. And I'm well aware of how fucked up that might sound to anyone else." I scoffed before leaning my forehead against his chest with my hands on his hips.

  "....Good thing I'm not anyone else." Grimmjow muttered before I felt his hand on the back of my head. "But what else are you wanting to say? Your chemosignals are too confusing right now."

  "Sorry. I'm just feeling a lot right now." I swallowed as my grip on his hips slightly tightened. "It's honestly confusing to me, too."

  "That doesn't sound good."

  "Bittersweet." I replied, and he went quiet.

  "....Are you mad at me again?"

  "No. No, I'm not mad at you. I'm so very grateful for you, and that is causing a lot of conflicting feelings for me. You're a demon. I'm not supposed to feel safe with you. I'm not supposed to find comfort in your presence. But you've done so much for me that it'd be impossible to not have those feelings. And you're the reason I wasn't all alone while trying to deal with Uncle Jordan passing." My voice went quiet as I kept my forehead against his chest.

  I couldn't bring myself to look at him while clenching my jaw again as things buried deep were clawing at the back of my throat to be let free.

  "Uncle Jordan was all I had left of my family. Being here alone with that hanging over me....was devastating."

  "I thought you didn't mention your family to keep them safe from me."

  "No." I swallowed and took in a deep breath. "My parents died when I was really young, and Uncle Jordan tried to take me in. Before he could get custody, my aunt had the court deem herself a better fit. My aunt couldn't have children, so she did whatever she could to keep me and was a fucking asshole. Uncle Jordan did his best to help me get out as soon as I could. She ended up dying of cancer while I was in college, so Uncle Jordan was all that was left. He never had kids of his own, and I guess that might've been due to him being an exorcist."

  Grimmjow was quiet as I spoke, and I wasn't even sure he was listening.

  "I hated you so much when I thought you had killed him. And it made me hate myself every time I was close to you. I originally started the contact thinking I could manipulate you....but I needed it." I felt my bottom lip quivering as my eyes began to burn. "I really fucking needed it. My friends are amazing, but I couldn't....I couldn't tell them I was drowning and faking it. But you," I scoffed. "you didn't give a shit about anything but yourself. You kept my mind off my pain. And at night when the pain would come back, you were there again."

  My hands remained planted where they were as I didn't move an inch. It felt as if I was so close to having everything spill out, and I was trying to fight it.

  "That's why I sleep better with you. You provide comfort and take away the loneliness. You being a demon, the fucking Sexta Espada, ate away at me. But I couldn't bring myself to stop. Knowing what you are, who you are, made me so conflicted. But as things progressed, it became easier. Then the Soul Society got involved. I couldn't let you go when you'd become the only thing keeping me together. I'm so used to hiding how I feel that no one even had a clue how close I was to breaking."

  "Wynter....I don't...." Grimmjow sighed before lifting my head. His palms were cupping my cheeks as he looked down at me. "I don't know how humans deal with these things."

  "I don't need you to. You being you has been enough." His gaze was soft, and he leaned down to lick my cheek, cleaning away tears that had broken free from my eyes.

  "I am your king, Wynter. Show me your weakness so that I may own it, too." His voice was gentle before he licked the tears from my other cheek. "You belong to me, mind, body, and soul." He kissed the corner of my eyelid and licked the tears from his lips. "And I sure as fuck won't share you. Kinda funny how you tried manipulating me and only fucked yourself, though." Grimmjow's expression was serious as he still touched me so gently.

  "Yeah. Kinda." I sniffled, and his nose brushed against mine.

  "You better know how much I mean I won't share you. I don't care if it's a higher-ranked Espada....I'll kill them."

  "That should worry me hearing that."

  "But it doesn't."

  "Not like it should." I sniffled, and Grimmjow gently bumped his forehead against mine.

  "Is this what happens when you hold things in for too long?"

  "Yes." I scoffed. "I try not to bottle things up, but sometimes it still happens. Usually feel better after a good cry."

  "Do you want me to do anything?"

  "Just....stay with me. That's all I need right now." His hands then dropped from my face to grab my wrists.

  "Is this what you wouldn't tell me the other night?"

  "No."

  "Then?"

  "I'm still not ready to say that."

  "Bullshit. But whatever." He sighed while taking a step back as the bathroom light turned off. "Keep telling me what you are ready to say then."

  "Do you actually care?"

  "....I may not care in the way a human might. But I'm learning here." Grimmjow continued toward the bed while gently pulling me along with him. "You can say as much as you want or nothing at all." He then grabbed my hips to lift me onto the bed.

  My back hit the mattress as Grimmjow crawled over me. He shape-shifted into human form to bury his face into my stomach without his horns getting in the way. His arms wrapped around me to hold me closer.

  Softly sighing through my nose, I ran my fingers through his soft hair. He began to purr, knowing that low, rumbling tone was comforting for me.

  "You may never truly understand just how much you do for me."

  "You're welcome." His voice was muffled, and I couldn't help but chuckle. It sounded a bit sad.

  "Yes, yes. Thank you." I continued to pet his hair and lazily twirled my fingers around some of his blue strands. "This is all such a mess."

  "Smells like it."

  "Do you think it'll actually work? Giving your hair to Tigre, I mean."

  "Yes. Tigre would have no way of getting it without me giving it to him. They also know I prefer they all leave me alone." Grimmjow replied as my other hand went up his arm to his shoulder that was bare since he only wore sweatpants. His warm skin beneath my fingers as he purred was helping me to relax.

  "Can I ask you something? Not about demon stuff this time."

  "What?"

  "Your shit with Gary. You don't do the same things to any of my other friends, and there's no way you're still holding a grudge."

  "Honestly?" Grimmjow lifted his head to look at me with a calm expression. "He just pisses me off. The idiot still clings to what was and won't move on. And since you're mine, I don't appreciate how he keeps cocking his leg like a mangy dog around you."

  "Now that's an exaggeration."

  "It's not if your senses were as keen as mine."

  "So that's really it? Just you being territorial?"

  "Well, he also starts shit. Need I remind you of how he signed me up for karaoke that one night?"

  "Right. Just a couple of idiots beating your chests." I sighed, and Grimmjow lowered his face to bite me. "Ow!"

  "Watch who you're calling an idiot."

  "So mean."

  "You'll live. It was barely a nip."

  "....Do you think I should talk to him about it?"

  "What do you mean?" Grimmjow looked at me from the corner of his eye as I caressed his hair again.

  "Should I talk to him about how he feels? I just.... I don't know, it just feels wrong to know he has those feelings and say nothing if he's holding out for a chance that won't come. I'm not sure he'll move on if it's been this long and he's still....in love with me."

  "Talk to him. Don't talk to him. I don't care." Grimmjow's face nuzzled into my stomach again. "He's just pathetic."

  "He's not pathetic."

  "I said what I said."

  "You-" I rolled over onto my side while forcing Grimmjow to roll with me after trapping his torso between my legs. I ruffled my hands through his hair to mess it up, and he snarled while trying to swat my hands away. I chuckled and swept his hair back to kiss his forehead. "You're terrible."

  "You're feeling better, aren't you?" He snapped back while flashing his sharp teeth.

  "Yes." Cupping his face in my hands, I leaned down further to kiss him. "Not fully, but I'll be okay."

  "Keep talkin' if you need to. Especially if you're gonna give me more kisses." Grimmjow's response made me laugh and kiss him again.

  "Aren't you sweet?" My tone was sarcastic, but I was still smiling either way. A lopsided grin pulled at his lips as he looked up at me.

  It made my heart flutter.

  "Fuck you, you fucking bitch!" Grimmjow roared, and Nel's rambunctious laughter followed. Going into the kitchen to get a drink, I glanced over to the living room where the two demons sat on the couch.

  "Suck it, Pantera!" Nel excitedly kicked her hooves in the air while cackling. The two were playing a video game on a console Nel had somehow obtained and brought with her when she moved in. And judging from their attitudes, Grimmjow was losing.

  By now, Grimmjow was also not as clingy as before, having relaxed for the most part with Nel's presence in the home. She had more than proven to be true to her word. In fact, she was even helping around the house and cleaning up after herself rather well.

  Nel was a wrench in the machine of the Soul Society's understanding of Arrancar. She was so....normal. And her behavior was of her own doing that had budded from her own curiosity.

  She was fascinating.

  "Rematch! Right fuckin' now!"

  "You'll still lose, sucker." The two continued yelling at each other while Grimmjow sounded so aggressive and Nel playful.

  "I'm still learning these fucking buttons."

  "Learn faster."

  "Sounds like you two are having fun." I popped off and took a drink from my glass.

  "Lots! Wanna try?" Nel looked back over the couch, and Grimmjow did the same as they both stared at me.

  "C'mere."

  "No, thanks. I've got work to do."

  "The tutorial won't take long, I promise." Nel grinned.

  "I don't need a tutorial. I used to play that game a lot when I was a teenager."

  "You know this?" Grimmjow's ears perked up, and that was all it took for him to drag me over and sit me in his lap with my drink on the coffee table. "Here." He placed the controller into my hands while looking over my shoulder. "I'm player 2."

  "Didn't I just say-"

  "Just one round, it'll be fine. It's not like your work will run away." Grimmjow huffed before pushing the button pausing the game to have it start playing again. I took a split second to reposition my hold on the controller before looking up at the TV screen.

  Grimmjow was breathing down the back of my neck while watching me fight Nel's character. It took me a moment to recall all of the moves and button controls, but I remembered enough to not get killed in the first few seconds. Grimmjow peered over my shoulder to watch my hands as his tail curled. I wouldn't doubt he was watching to learn the moves to use when he was playing again.

  However, my mind wandered while feeling his breath on my shoulder and his arms wrapped around me. I thought back to last night and how he held me while we talked. Well, I mainly talked and he mostly listened. I talked about a lot of things that had been causing me stress as he soothed me with his purring and letting me run my hands through his hair.

  It felt good to let it out. Even if I had cried at one point, I did feel better afterward.

  I still kept one thing hidden, but I was able to get plenty of other things off my chest.

  Leaning back into Grimmjow, I rapidly pushed buttons on the controller to do a combo. Nel cried out before sitting on the edge of her seat. She huffed through her nose like a bull as her HP bar went down.

  The fight onscreen continued while I only half paid attention. Dagur hopped down from the couch because of Nel moving too much, and he went over to his rope toy in the middle of the floor to chew on it instead. Grimmjow laughed with utter delight when the game declared me the winner.

  "Oh, come on!" Nel whined.

  "I gotta get back to work now." I turned my head and gently grabbed Grimmjow's chin. I gave him a kiss before holding up the controller. "Try not to break anything." His ears perked from the kiss then his nose brushed against mine.

  "Don't overdo it. You still gotta make dinner." Grimmjow popped off, making me scoff as he leaned in to kiss me and take the controller away.

  Standing up, I grabbed my drink from the coffee table and noticed how Nel was looking at Grimmjow. One of her furry ears twitched before her gaze drifted to me. Her eyes were slightly wider while her mouth was in a flat line.

  "What?"

  "Uh...." Nel looked back at Grimmjow again. "Guess I'm still not used to it."

  "Used to what?" Grimmjow asked while stretching out, his arms going over the back of the couch with his paws out and claws flexing.

  "Come on, Pantera. When have you ever treated anyone like you do Wynter?" Nel questioned, and Grimmjow froze before slowly looking at the other demon. "I've seen you with other pets, your Fracciones, and other Espada. You were never so....docile."

  "Docile?!" Grimmjow snarled with his pupils narrowing. Taking in a slow breath, I began to walk away. "I'm not fuckin' docile!"

  "How else would you describe it? Soft? Gentle? Domestic?" Her tone was steady even as Grimmjow was growling a warning.

  Stopping at the entrance of the hallway, I glanced back over my shoulder. Grimmjow's tail thrashed with agitation while Nel was unwavering.

  "The fuck are you going on about?"

  "You know what I'm talking about."

  "Watch what you're insinuating, Gamuza." Grimmjow sounded more vicious as I turned away and clenched the front of my shirt.

  "I didn't insinuate anything. I made an observation."

  "I haven't gone soft!"

  "I didn't say you have. But you certainly are gentler with Wynter. It's not a bad thing. You actually seem....happy." Nel's response was followed by utter silence. "It's surprising, but don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're capable of it."

  My heart beat faster, and I quickly made my way back to the office with Dagur at my side. Hearing Nel say she thought Grimmjow seemed happy actually filled me with such a light and warm feeling. I got to the office before the demons could pick up on my change in mood.

  Sitting at my desk after setting my cup down, I leaned over to bury my face into Dagur's fur. He sniffed at me while happily wagging his tail. Perhaps having Nel here would have more benefits than previously suspected.

[hansensgirl]

salvatore. | vi.

series summary. | Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.

warnings. | NONCON/DUBCON, dark themes, manipulation, gaslighting, arguments, toxic relationships (reader and steve), cheating, nightmares, violent behaviour? (no actual hitting), spying, voyeurism, stalking, use of cameras, angst, fluff, soft!dark!bucky, protectiveness, obsessiveness, creepy bucky, perversion, + more. 18+, MINORS DNI.

word count. | 2.5k

pairings. | Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers.

a/n. | i know i haven’t updated in a while i’m really sorry!! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog!

“Doll, please calm down. You’re scaring me,” Steve begged, sitting on the bed. “How can I calm down, Steve? Huh? You only just came back, and now you’re going away again,” you spat, crossing your arms. Your stance was almost adorable, but Steve knew that if he made a comment, he’d just push you further away. He couldn’t let that happen. “Why can’t you ask for a vacation, Stevie? We haven’t done anything romantic since my birthday, and that was six months ago.” You turned your back to Steve, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry, Doll, but I have to go save the world,”  he solemnly told you. His voice carried a faux sadness that shouldn’t even be there in the first place. “Bullshit, you have so many more people to do it. Sam, Wanda, Tony—don’t lie, Steve. Why are you going to Sydney? There’s no way you have to travel to another continent to mess up some sort of drug deal. Isn’t that what the police are for?” you questioned him.

Tears stung your eyes. They were ones of anger, but you couldn’t lie. In the midst of them, were sad ones ready to leak, too. Steve stayed silent. “For fucks sake, Steve, you can’t even give me an answer?” you asked in disbelief. You gasped as the tears began to fall. “I knew it, I knew it the whole time,” you whispered under your breath. “Knew what?” he asked, walking up to you. You backed up into the corner of the room.

“That you’re cheating on me,” you mumbled quietly. “What? Baby– no, listen.” He paused to take a deep breath, meant to calm his nerves down. “I don’t want to hear anything, Steve. I know about you and Natasha. All those trips? Those text messages? God, the only person I feel bad for is myself. How could I be so blind to it all?” you shook your head as you spoke. You walked around Steve’s strong figure and headed towards the door. “Where are you going?” He called out, following you behind.

“For some fresh air, I can’t handle this,” you yelled back, but Steve only sped his steps up. “You’re not leaving me, Doll,” he growled, stepping in front of you. “I never said I was, but now you’re tempting me,” you snapped back. “You’re not leaving me, Doll. You never can.” Steve gripped your shoulders tightly, and you winced in pain. “Even if you did, I’ll go to the ends of the Earth to get you back.”

Your eyes shot open. Gasping, you struggled to catch your breath. Your heart pumped like no tomorrow. Each time your chest raised to the highest point, you felt like you had a heart attack. You fell back onto your pillow, and you couldn't care enough about the slightly painful thud that came with it. Nightmares were never pleasant. Though they give amazing writing inspiration, they still were not nice.

Unfortunately, your nights seemed to be filled with them. Every time you fell asleep for the past week, you’d wake up in a panicky mode. At that point, you were okay with settling for a weird dream that resembled surrealistic art. Who wouldn’t want to have a Dali-inspired dream? You rubbed your eyes roughly and could feel the exhaustion in your every movement.

Your phone rang loudly. The sound made you jump in shock, and you reached to your bedside table for it. The screen read Bucky’s name, and you sighed. You answered the phone and brought it to your ear. “Hey, Bucky,” you croaked tiredly. He laughed, and you could hear the exhaustion in his voice. But the sound of tiredness differed from yours. “Did I wake you up?” he asked, and you moaned. “No, I just woke up,” you told him. “Why would you wake up at one in the morning, Doll?” he asked.

“Nightmare,” you breathlessly told him. You could swear on the daisy that began to bloom two weeks ago that you started to feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders. “Talk to me, Doll. Was it bad?” he questioned. “Yeah, it was worse than the previous ones.” You hadn’t even realized that you just spilled your secret. “You’ve been getting them for the past few nights? Doll– I’m so sorry, but you know you can always talk to me, right?”

His words were more reassuring than anything Steve ever said. “I know, it’s just… The nightmares—they’re very personal. You might not understand how scary they are. Plus, I don’t want to bother you,” you sheepishly admitted to him. He sighed heavily. “I understand, Doll, but you can never bother me, okay? I’m the one who’s supposed to feel that way, not you,” he chuckled, just to ease the tension.

“Now, I’m gonna be there in the next twenty minutes. Do you think you can sort yourself out by then?” he asked, and you started to stutter. “Uhm, sure, yeah, sure,” you agreed obediently. “Good girl, I’ll be there in a few.” And with that, he hung up. Your eyeballs bulged out of their sockets at those two words he uttered. Steve never said anything like that. He’d always just nod, even if you couldn't see it.  You simply wrapped yourself in one of your most favourite blankets because changing seemed pointless to you.

There was no way he was not in pyjamas… right?

You turned the lamp on next to you before you could convince yourself that your chair was a monster. Your back was cold but also covered in sweat. You hated that feeling, and your mother always had the best way to describe it. “It’s like heating something in the microwave but failing nonetheless. The outside of it is warm, but the inside is still cold.” She’d tell you as she’d wipe down your back with a towel.

That was before everything went downhill. Before you turned thirteen and before she married him.

You sighed and got out of bed, willing yourself to put the kettle on. Maybe you’ll make some hot chocolate, or perhaps some tea… In your mind, twenty minutes always seemed like a long time. It sounded as though you could get quite a lot done in a third of an hour. The reality always felt like getting ice water poured on you as a method for waking up.

Unless your life was significantly put together, those one thousand and two hundred seconds are equivalent to five minutes. The ceramic lid for the jar clinked as you set it down on the counter. You grabbed two chamomile tea bags and closed the pot with a ‘ping!’. You grabbed two cups from the cupboard and then groaned loudly when you realized that you hadn’t turned the kettle on.

With a flick of your finger, you turned it on and leaned onto the counter. You sighed pretty loudly. Your head fell into the cup that your hands made, and you closed your eyes. You didn’t have a headache, and your eyes didn’t hurt either; you were just exhausted. You sighed once again, and the kettle clicked, telling you the water was done boiling.

Timing was everything, as always. And sometimes “timing” is just a coincidence, just like how Bucky rang the doorbell as soon as the water stopped boiling. You rubbed your eyes and walked to the door slowly, not caring that he may have been standing out there for thirty seconds too long. You opened it—not all the way—but wide enough for him to catch a glimpse of your tired form. “Hi,” he greeted, letting himself in.

Bucky looked around your home as if he was waiting for someone to round the corner with a knife and shotgun. “Nice place,” he said with an awkward smile on his face. “Thanks, even though our homes are formatted the same way,” you chuckled. He nodded, and then a few seconds after, he let out a forced laugh. You looked up at him and gave him a meek grin, and then went back to making the tea.

“I’m so glad I have two bags of chamomile left. It’s like the universe has decided to bless me again,” you breathlessly said. “What was the blessing before?” he curiously asked. “You.” You poured the hot water inside the cups, and then the bags of tea followed. “Honey or sugar?” you asked, and he pointed at the sugar. You passed it to him wordlessly, and the only sounds that filled the room were from your lungs and cups of tea.

“So… Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a few more wordless moments. “S- sure, thank you once again! You’re so kind,” you sighed as you brought the cup of tea to your mouth. Bucky copied your movements, but just a bit slower. “It was about my ex,” you admitted once you set your cup down. Bucky struggled to keep his eyes from popping out of their sockets at your mention of him.

“It was so similar to an argument we had a few months before I broke up with him… The only difference was that he wasn’t as… terrifying. And yet he still scared me,” you solemnly spoke. Bucky stretched a hand across the counter and placed it on your shoulder. He pleasantly squeezed it a bit, and you were tempted to lean into his touch.

But you just can’t, because Steve is in the back of your mind, taunting you.

“What really happened in the dream?” he asked, and you took another sip of tea. “Well… We were fighting. He had to go away for a while, even though he just came back. He’d always do that; it’s what helped destroy our relationship. He valued his job over me, and also, someone else,” you sadly recounted. Bucky listened in carefully, because he wanted to help out his best girl in any way possible.

“I caught him in his lies because his excuses became so… Inexplicable. I always had that nagging feeling that he was cheating on me with his friend, his coworker. That argument confirmed everything. I couldn’t handle it all being true, so I tried to leave for a walk,” you paused to take a shaky breath. “He got angry and stopped me, and then he threatened me,” you bluntly finished.

Bucky was so glad that his hand was no longer resting on your shoulder because Goddamn was his fist clenched tightly. You brought the cup of tea up to your mouth, and Bucky just watched you as you diverted your eyes away from him. Once you set the cup down, Bucky grabbed your hands. In contrast, his were extremely hot, and yet the flesh one was dry. Yours were a bit cold, but they were soft and a bit dewy. You looked up at him, only to lock eyes.

“It’s just a dream, doll, okay? And it’s in the past, it won’t happen again, our minds can be crazy sometimes, so try not to worry about it,” he whispered lowly, bringing both of your hands up to his mouth. He pressed a kiss on both sets of your knuckles. You nodded softly, and you leaned down to press a kiss on his flesh knuckles in return. You smiled against his skin, even though it was bruised and slightly red. You wanted to ignore the weird feeling of his metal arm against your sweaty skin, but you couldn’t help it.

“Can- Can I do the thing to your metal hand?” you asked him, hopeful that he would say yes. Bucky nodded, with a slight smile on his face, of course. You closed your eyes and puckered your lips just a bit, pecking the metal. His breathing hitched, unbearably so. It was something he would always catch himself doing whenever he’d think about you or whenever he was simply just in your presence. You opened up eyes and looked back up at him, and you could see the way his eyes glazed over.

He let go of your hands abruptly, allowing them to fall onto the marble countertop. His fingers slotted themselves against your cheeks, and he grabbed your face gently. Bucky pulled you close to him, and he smashed his lips against yours. The kiss was messy, but it was full of passion. You kept your lips locked against his, and your fingers carded through his long hair. There was no other movement apart from the way Bucky kept trying to pull you closer and closer.

It was almost like he wanted to merge bodies, minds, and souls with you.

A few more seconds passed, and Bucky eventually pulled away. He rested his forehead against yours, and you exhaled a shaky breath. “Steve… His name is Steve, and I hate him,” you admitted to him, and Bucky kissed your nose. “And I hate him too, doll,” Bucky said before parting ways from you. There was a bit of tea left in his cup, but you had finished all of yours. “Get some rest, okay? Or just close your eyes for a bit. You need it,” he advised, and you nodded. “Thank you, Bucky. I really appreciate you being there for me,” you expressed to him.

“Anything for you, doll, now go tuck yourself in,” he urged once again before walking past you to the door. You placed the cups in the sink, and neither of you looked back at each other. You heard the door shut with a loud echo, and you sighed heavily. Maybe you were going to listen to him. Sleeping in isn’t that bad after all.

Bucky always believed that being vulnerable was stupid. He also believed that opening up was stupid. But, to be fair, he believed that anything involving emotions was stupid. But when it comes to you, he felt the opposite. Maybe vulnerability was good. Perhaps it was exactly where you needed to be for him to finally be able to love you.

And it was then when he realized that he hadn’t been loving you properly. He hadn’t been loving you the way he wanted to love Natasha, and that just ended up with her six feet deep with flowers growing above her body. He needed you, but you clearly needed him more than anything else. Bucky was desperate for you at times, of course, but you matter more to him than anything else.

Bucky looked down at his desk, staring at the single plane ticket that would take him all the way across the state of New York. He hadn’t been there in over a year, and that was when he first learned of Natasha’s promiscuity. Philandering around with his best friend, fucking said best friend in the most memorable locations he had taken her.

He honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if he found out that the reason why Natasha showed up to the wedding venue late was that she was too busy lifting up that poofy white gown for Steve. He thought that by emptying out Pandora’s box when she passed, everything would be okay. That he’d be able to move on without a care, and he wouldn’t have to shed any more tears for her. Bucky won’t. He promised himself he wouldn't.

He just had a few loose ends to wrap up before he made you his. That was all.

[graveyardbard]

Haunted By The Ghost of You | Part 1

Lets start the year off right! Gonna try to give you guys monthly updates but this is really just a little thing I’m doing between working;;; I hope you guys enjoy it!

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Rating: SFW Legnth: 2.1K Pairing: Established Poly!Ghostface (Billy and Stu) x GN! Reader Warnings: Descriptions of death, Gore, Strong horror elements, and Manipulations

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This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. You were supposed to graduate college, go on to have a career, a family, a life. Not whatever this is, Not this stupid pain wracking every fiber of your body. You stare up at the night sky, pain numbing you and unmoving as the two men muttering among themselves. What were they saying?

“Town hall would make more of a statement than their shitty ass job at the movie theater.” One spoke sharply.

“What about the symbolism of their shackles to their dead-end Capitalist wage work, dude?” The other replied quickly as they moved back over to you.

  Your eyes half lids and blood smeared across your lips, you wheezed out as your hand lifted towards them. The shorter man squatted down and took your weakened digits into his large hands. He slid the rubber ghost mask off his head, giving you a smile that, against all odds, gave you a bit of hope. Maybe he regretted what he did? Maybe he would get you some help? The thought quickly leaves your mind when you see the comically large hunting knife in his hand.

“Ple-ease--” The word strangled from your vocal cords.

“Heh, Don’t worry. You’re getting everything you deserve.” Billy Loomis spoke quietly, staring deep into your eyes. Between the puncture wounds in your abdomen causing your blood to cascade from your body and the realization that this is happening by the hand of someone you vaguely knew, nothing was making any sense. Billy smirked and gripped the knife tight in his free hand. You had no energy to fight back as he plunged the knife into your jaw, dragging it down your throat. Hormones pumped through your brain, vibrant colors and loud patterns flash before your eyes, as your body jerks violently on the blood soaked grass.

“AHAA! Shiiiiit Billy, that was gruesome! HA!” The last thing you heard before the world collapsed around you.

---

Y/N. Y/N. That's all you can think of to anchor yourself to this moment. Y/N. Well, that and the two idiots that killed you. The two idiots whose apartment you’re currently sitting in. You’re seated unmoving on the kitchen counter looking between the two. Billy Loomis and Stu Macher. Old classmates from the college you attended, they were into filming stuff around campus and hanging off their respective girlfriends at the time. You grimace at them, nothing else you could do honestly but sit and grimace.

“What...the fuck is that?” Billy stared back at you. Your ghostly form taking up space in his home. “I don’t know man. I don’t know.” Stu whined pacing back and forth behind Billy, hands pressed to his forehead and face flushed red from stress. “What are we gonna do, Billy!? There's a-- There’s a frickin’ GHOST on our counter, Man! A GHOST!”

“Shut the fuck up, you dumbass!” Billy shoved his partner. “Let me think!”

“Think about what?” You finally spoke up, crossing your arms over your chest. “I mean I’d looooove to know what thoughts are rolling around that pretty little head of yours, Billy Boy.”

That remark earned you a sneer from the shorter man. He couldn’t think of anything to say back to you. It was obvious that he was in over his depth without a way out. He walked up to you, uncomfortably close to you, reaching a veined hand out to your shoulder. His hand phases through you quickly making a shiver shoot down his spine. You shift to the other side of the room, a misty trail left behind you as you do.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Loomis, You’ve done that more than enough.”

“So you’re really… real?” He turns quickly to look at you.

“No shit, Sherlock.” You continue your death glare at him.

Stu is fully panicked now, hands rubbing and scratching at every part of his head as he stares at you. What was he supposed to feel at this moment? Someone they killed not even a full week ago was standing in the apartment. Nothing was right about it.

“W-W-Why are you here, dude? You should be dead. Dead people don’t come back!” He stammered and moved around to get closer to you.

You wanted to scream, to throw everything around you, to destroy their world like they did to you. They don’t deserve any explanation for your being there, they deserve to hurt the same way you did. You feel what would have been your muscles tighten and clench your fists tight to your sides. If you could make them feel even a tiny fraction of the pain you felt that night, maybe you could go about your afterlife.

The room's temperature began to decline and darken. The two men froze and looked at you, fear, concern, and annoyance lacing their features. You closed your eyes, a dull aching pain began to form as your wounds reopened. Inky, viscous black liquid poured from them as you lift gently from the floor. Stu began backing away from the room, back pressing to the fridge as he stared wide eyed. Billy on the other hand began approaching you again. He couldn’t have whatever you were tormenting them when they had things to do.

“Hey! You need to fucking leave!” He screamed harshly. You whip your head to him and open your mouth, jaw far too wide for a normal human. Your teeth are jagged and long in your mouth. Eyes rolling back far too much in your incorporeal skull. In an instant a myriad of voices jutted from you.

“Heh, Don’t worry. You’re getting everything you deserve.” Echoed over and over in the voices of every victim slain by Billy and Stu. But the loudest, angriest voice was Billys’ own. His voice repeated the very last thing it’d said to you before ending your entire world.

Billy stumbled backwards and tripped over the low coffee table in the middle of the room. Half ass scrambling as he pushed away from you. Items from the coffee table now splayed across the living room floor. “Stu, Let’s go- Let’s go now! NOW!” Stu took the queue and sprinted for the front door as Billy got back on his feet in a half run. They left the apartment at a speed you’d never seen anyone move before. You felt your jaw pop back into place as your form made its way back to the ground and back to normal.

“Ugh, that felt awful…” You groaned, rubbing the hollow ache in your neck and made your way over to the entry door, poking your head through it to see if they were close by. Luckily they weren’t in sight so you took your time going through the apartment. Maybe you could find some evidence that could lead to the end of their reign over others lives. There was no reason they should have control over whether someone sees another day or if their story gets cut short.

You half step towards the bedrooms, one that seems to be very lived in and the other a bit neater. You decided to check the more active room first, best to start where they spend time. Entering the room made it clear that this was their shared bedroom, a pile of messy blankets stacked in the middle of the large king sized bed made that obvious. You sneered at the state of the room, an endless amount of designer clothes scattered across the floor and draped over a cushioned arm chair. Just under the window is an oversized dresser, housing various boxes and trinkets.

“What a couple of pricks.” You walked to the chair, lifting a few ribbed shirts and sweaters, tossing them around the room, adding to the already cluttered chaos. “This is mine now.”

Just as you sat in the plush chair, you heard the door fly open and multiple feet scatter into the apartment. About 3 people? You groaned and shifted in your seat, one leg pulled up to your side. Just as you felt your ghostly form started to relax, the bedroom door opened and you saw who had entered the shared space. First was Billy, obviously distraught at you not being where you were before. Then, a black man with clear glasses and an occult button up, a friend of theirs maybe? Lastly, Stu, who for someone that was just fully melting down earlier looked very calm. Almost as if he had collected all his thoughts and put logic to them. “So like… Where’s this ghost?” The man with glasses looked between the two men. His voice was lighter, almost feminine. That wasn’t important to you, what was important was what he was doing in the apartment.

“You really can’t see it? It’s right there, man.” Billy responded quickly, pointing to the empty chair where you sat. “Clear as day.” “Mmn nah, my man. All I see is an overpriced armchair. The vibe is a bit spooky.” He chuckled. “Look, my advice is, if there really is a ghost here, figure out what they want and why they came back. Then from there you can either help them pass over, or you can, like, cleanse the area. That ain’t a guarantee of anything though. Just a precaution.”

“What would we even use, dude? We don’t fuck with occult shit like you.” Stu asked as he moved across the room, kicking some of the clothes towards the closet. “They did some really spooky shit earlier.”

“It wasn’t that bad. You’re just a bitch.” You jabbed at him, while making unbreaking eye contact with Billy. He was staring at you incredibly hard, almost as if staring would break you and you’d go running for the ghostly hills. As if. You quickly stick your tongue out at him, a childish gesture but one that was well deserved. He growled, and turned his attention back to the “occult friend” of his. “Can you do it tonight?” “Can I do it for you? Shit man… I guess. Me and Dawn have some shit in the club room we can use.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, shoving one hand in his pocket. “Lemme get your number and I’ll go ahead and call before I head back this way.” The interaction was brief, an exchange of numbers and a quick goodbye. You groaned and leaned back on the chair. “Are you guys done with the bullshit? I’m getting bored.” Billy led the occult man back to the front door, giving Stu a few seconds alone with you. He wasn’t smiling but his eyes were perked like an all too pleased cat. If you still had skin, it would be crawling and every hair on your body would be on end. You scoffed and looked away from the man, no need in prolonging his attention on you.

“Wanna know why we picked you?” He spoke to you in a monotone that didn’t match his “personality” at all. You didn’t answer him, but definitely felt his presence approaching you. He leaned forward, holding himself up with a hand on the back of the arm chair. His face was a breath away from your ghostly ear, and the sensation of heat pooling in your cheeks was all too familiar. He continued in a whisper, “You weren’t special. In fact, the only thing about you that was remarkable was the way you were able to draw everyone around you in. You have a gravity about you, and that wasn’t going to work for our bigger plan. It’s sad honestly. I hoped we could be friends when you were… more alive. Would’ve made killing you a lot more exciting.” “W-What?” The admission shook you to your core. Even in the afterlife, he would not let up on their almost ravenous need to take. The little bit of hope you had was diminishing by the second. Especially with Stu ultimately stating he had no regrets in killing you, only regret in not killing you in a better, more intimate way.

Stu smiled at that point, backing away from the chair with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He turned towards the door and for a second paused, turning back and looking you in your eyes. “If it counts for anything, I’d like to see you stick around for a bit.” He said with a small chuckle. The blond man closed the door and left you with your racing thoughts. Leaving wasn’t an option, not at this moment. When it came down to it, your goal was still firm and you had nothing but time to accomplish it. You ground your teeth, nails digging deep into the arms of the chair you were sitting in.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: So, I’ve made some positive changes in my life. I am working away at original work, I’m drinking more water, I’m taking my dog on big walks and being more active, and I’m doing my best. So, I was struck with an old yearning to return to Birch. I’ll be updating here and there as I feel and won’t be pushing myself like I did before because I realise how unhealthy and stressful it was on me.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: It gets so sticky down here

A city girl in a small town. What could be sadder than that?

In the city, life went fast. In a place like Birch, the days dragged by as if to remind you of how helpless you were beneath the unyielding and inevitable tick of the clock. The hand wound around and around as you waited for what would never happen. The dreams of your childhood eroded beneath the rolling years leaving trail of crumbs you could not follow back to the beginning.

A woman just beyond her prime trapped in an antiquated career. The empty aisles between the shelves full of books bespoke of a bygone era. The forgotten library at the far end of the main street rarely saw a new face and those familiar were fewer by the day. The staff had thinned to three of you; Melissa was older than you with a daughter nearly your age and Colin was close to retirement if not well past.

You got on well enough, as well as you could given Colin’s faulty hearing aid, and Melissa’s wandering mind. They meant well but they shared the lethargy of the old small town. 

You weren’t nostalgic for the smog or the flashing lights of the city, but there was no life to this place. Only the impending reach of death rattling closer in the roar of the motorcycles and the rumble of the old railroad that ran through the middle of town.

The air nipped at your cheeks as you approached the library. A morning of yawning had you craving a latte from the bakery and the quiet girl behind the counter cheerfully steamed the foam before handing it over. Everyone in this town was familiar, everyone knew everyone else, and yet, you still felt like an outsider.

You felt the heat of the cup through your glove and you looked up as you sensed two figures by one of the thick columns of the library façade. Melissa stood chatting with her daughter, hugging her sweater around her as she’d left her coat inside. You peeked up at the grey sky as snow threatened at any moment with the mid-November bite.

As you thought to pass them and leave their conversation uninterrupted, your name drew you back.

“I was just telling my daughter,” Mel began as she waved you over with a chatter of her teeth. “About that podcast you mentioned. She loves those old Hollywood stars.”

“Oh,” you blew the steam away from the lid of your drink as you neared, “It’s alright. The stories are worth the narrator’s schtick.”

“Yeah? I’ve been closing at the bar and I like to listen to something once it clears out.” Mel’s daughter said. “You wouldn’t mind giving me the name?”

You told her the title of the podcast and helped her find it on Spotify to follow for later. Mel shivered and stood closer to her daughter who was bundled up against the onslaught of Birch’s blustering winter. You knew about her too. 

She was friendly but you saw in her a cynicism more common to city folk. You got along but you were weary of her associations. The local club of crass bikers were neither subtle nor savoury. In the city, it was easy enough to ignore the patch and all that came along with it. The seedy figures were distilled by the broader population but not in Birch. There, the club was the town.

“Mom, you can’t stay out here.” She poked her mother’s arm. “It’s too cold.”

“Little better in the library.” You grumbled and sipped your latte. “The radiator’s broken again.”

“You mean Colin broke it trying to fix what wasn’t broken,” Melissa shook her head, “and I’m fine, dear. I’ve spent more than fifty winters in Birch and been through worse than this.”

“Yes, but you were younger then--” Her voice dwindled as she turned her head to listen to the distant roar of exhaust.

You followed her gaze and noted the way her forehead creased at the noise. She swallowed and turned to watch as a dark rider turned onto the main road from the highway. It was the man who kept her entwined with the club, the one who marked her latent authority over all others. The only one who outranked her.

She swore and looked over her shoulder at her mother. Her mother touched her arm. It was a telling and surprising moment. Her expression read of all the disgust you felt for the bikers.

At least a dozen bikes followed the first and Bucky raised his glove hand to signal the others to slow as he pulled up to the curb just before the library steps. You backed away as his breath clouded around him and he waved Mel’s daughter closer. He craned to kiss her as she bent, her fingers picking at her jeans as she did, then he nodded his greeting to Mel.

“What are you doing?” He asked tersely.

“Can’t I see my mother?” The daughter challenged and the biker scoffed.

“Of course,” he killed his engine and the others mimicked him in fine order. “I wouldn’t keep ya from her but you didn’t tell me you were going downtown.”

“You were gone.”

You listened to the conversation as you stayed close to the column, thinking of sneaking up the steps into the library before you heard too much. Your curiosity had you searching the crowd of leather jackets as their wearers tried to conceal their impatience with their boss’ impromptu halt.

Among them, a large man sat casually in his seat, his feet planted on the cold pavement as he rolled slightly back and forth. Strands of his thick blond hair were drawn back beneath his helmet into a thick braid as the rest hung around his shoulders. His patch was different from the rest, an old Norse symbol you didn’t know the meaning of. There were several others who wore the same cut, including a dark-haired woman who chatted with another golden-haired rider.

You tasted your latte again, it cooled quickly as the cold air battered the cardboard. As you sipped and sidled around the column, your eyes were caught by another pair. The very man you’d just been watching was now focused on you. You stopped, hoping like some frightened animal that your stillness would ward off his attention.

“Barnes,” the broad blonde man spoke as he finally looked away. “You’ve not even introduced me to your woman. I assume that’s why we’ve stopped.”

Bucky shifted on his bike and sighed. You hadn’t expected the man to have an accent. His voice was deep but the subtle lilt defined his tone as unforgettable. The dark-haired biker of Birch rolled his eyes before he pointed to his girl and gave her name, then to Melissa as he explained their relation.

You sidestepped around the column to the stairs of the library and turned away. You were stopped again by the same voice.

“And that one? The quiet one?”

You spun back slowly and looked at each biker, many unconcerned with conversation, as a few stared back at you or at the viking-like rider. Bucky shook his head and furrowed his brow at Melissa’s daughter. She hesitated before she gave your name coolly referred to you as just another librarian. She was trying to deflect the focus and you were thankful for it. You wondered at her own blatant spite for that breed of man.

“No one important,” Bucky grabbed his keys. “Come on, honey. I’ll give you a ride back.”

“I can walk.”

“Get on.” He said gruffly and turned the keys.

The motorcycles thrummed back to life in a cacophony. You flinched and turned back to the library doors. Your lunch was almost over as it was and the cold was starting to make your head hurt. You heard the bikes tear off as you reached the door and you turned back to watch as Melissa ran up after you.

You held the door for her and paused as you watched riders tear away. The blonde remained and watched you with a smirk. He winked as he slowly rolled after the others and pushed off. You followed Melissa inside and pulled the door shut tightly behind you.

“I’ll finish the returns,” you slipped past her, “you should try to warm up.”

“Thanks, dear,” she rubbed her hands together as she neared the curve desk you all shared, “God, that man makes my skin crawl.”

“But your daughter--”

“She handles him as well as she can,” Melissa sat and logged onto her boxy PC, “she’s stronger than me, that’s for sure.”

You sat and chewed on the thought. You just assumed her daughter leaped at the opportunity to date the most powerful man in town. What else could a girl from Birch hope for?

“She doesn’t…”

“He keeps her safe, I guess,” Melissa muttered, “I don’t say nothing against it. I won’t, for her sake as much as mine.”

You lowered your lashes and turned to the stack of unscanned books. You took the first and opened the cover.

“I didn’t mean to-- I don’t really know anything about the… bikers.”

“Hope you never do, dear,” she said listlessly. “Those men, if you can call them that, are the lowest form of humanity.”

💀

You always took the same route home. It wasn’t very far. You lived in the studio apartment above Tammy’s, the clothes shop where all the local seniors got their outdated outfits. The store itself smelled like a retirement home but you were not often disturbed by the activity below. Like everything in Birch, it wasn’t very exciting.

Your walk took you past the diner and along the stretch across the street from the town’s sentinel, The Asp. The bar was the only place in town which always seemed to be bursting with life. You had an old Chevrolet parked behind the building but you never drove to work, only on your odd trip to the city to get away from the suffocation malaise of main street.

That day as you fumbled to get your earbud back in, you heard a whistle. You got a few comments now and again about your habit of blocking out the townsfolk and the town itself with your music. In the city, you didn’t just say hi to every person you walked by and you had little inclination to change that habit.

You kept going and the whistle came louder. You heard boots hammer across the street and you stopped as the earbud once more fell out of your ear.

“Eh, kitten,” you turned to the long-haired biker. A golden hammer hung from a chain and peaked out from the open collar of his jacket. He tucked his hands in his pockets as you faced him with blatant irritation. “We didn’t get to meet properly, did we?”

You stared at him and let out a foggy breath. You leaned on your left heel and shook your head with a scoff.

“No.” You said and turned back along your path.

“No?” He repeated and his footsteps followed closely. “I’m only being friendly, kitten. I’m not from around here and I’m just tryn’ ta make a few friends.”

“I’m not interested,” you march onward and stop short. 

You realised if you went any further, you’d lead him straight to your door. You didn’t need him knowing where you lived. You veered off and crossed the street, he stayed close just like your shadow. You’d stop by the liquor store and wait him out there.

“Where are you going, kitten?”

“Can’t you take a hint?” You nearly tangled your own legs as you pivoted sharply. “I’m sorry for your luck that you’ve ended up in Birch but I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you.” You grasped the handle of the liquor store door. “Oh, and my name isn’t kitten.”

“I know your name. I remember it.” He grinned and you swung open the door. He caught it behind you and you let out a frustrated sigh as he trailed you inside. “It’s almost as gorgeous as you.”

“Do those work on the women where you’re from?”

You stared at the shelf of fruit wines and tried to ignore him. You were starting to build a real thirst for the bottles.

“I don’t meet a lot of women like you, kitten.”

“Would you stop it--” You blinked and stomped further down the aisle.

“Thor. My name’s Thor.” He offered gallantly. “But you can call me whatever you wish.”

“I could think of a few things.” You bent down to read the label of a wine from the Maritimes.

“Mmm, my thoughts run wild, kitten.” He purred and you looked up at him in confusion.

You swiped the bottle from the shelf and stood straight. His eyes clung to your ass and as you turned, they swiftly found your chest. Neither were well-hidden by your jacket, even as thick as it was. Your weight often deterred the whistles and the leers, but not this time.

“How many ways can I tell you to go away?” You hissed and move to step around him. He turned and watched you pass. He shivered as you brushed against him unwillingly in the narrow aisle.

“So, you got a man?” He questioned as again he tailed you to the counter. You grabbed a small bottle of Vodka from the rack beside it and dug out your wallet.

“Does it matter?”

He bent and leaned on the counter beside you and you ignored his attempt to look you in the face. You paid and took your change as the clerk bagged your purchase.

“To me, everything about you matters, kitten.”

You shot him a sharp look and took your paper bag. You hugged it close and glared at him as he straightened. “Stop calling me that.”

“Here,” he gripped the top of the bag, “I’ll help.”

“I’ll smash this bottle over your head,” you threatened. “Now I’ve told you to leave me alone.”

He chuckled and dipped his head. His hair slid down the leather and he scratched his thick beard.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I like to play.” 

He looked at you again, his blue eyes twinkling. You were startled as suddenly he ‘woofed’’ at you. You backed away and he kept close as is to chase you, ready to salivate like the dog he mimicked.

“Get away!” You shouted and raced for the door.

His barks turned to laughter and the bell announced your stagger out onto the street. You didn’t look back as you charged across the street and narrowly missed being mowed down by Linda Karling. You reached the other side as you heard the liquor store door clatter a second time. You sensed his shadow as you turned down a side street.

You walked until you were certain he wasn’t following. The cold blew up your jacket as you mapped out your way back. You could sneak around the back of the clothes shop and sneak up the metal escape. You peered back and forth, the old house just at the town limits nearly faded into the dimming sky and main street shrouded by brick walls.

“Hey,” a small voice surprised you as a woman neared, walking the same route as you. “Whatcha doing all the way up here?”

You stared at her dumbly. It was the woman who worked at the bakery. She hung out with the club too.

“Nothing, I…” You grabbed your earbuds and put them back in your ears. “I was listening to my music and got carried away.”

“Oh?” she chittered like a mouse. “No one comes this way. Only me to see my ma.”

You nodded at her and gave an awkward smile. “Mmhmm. Well, thanks. I probably would’ve wandered right out of town.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” she said forlornly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“For your latte. And you always get the banana loaf when it’s on special and tomorrow’s Tuesday.”

You sniffed and rubbed your neck. You hated that. You hated that everyone knew you, that everyone knew what you did, and that they assumed they knew everything else. But she was sweet and you couldn’t hate her for never being freed from the prison of Birch.

“Oh yeah,” you squeezed the paper bag so it crinkled and pulled out your phone with your free hand, “tomorrow.”

[senju-sekhmet]

Irenic. (Ch. 22, Tobirama x OC)

Sometimes life is decided in a mere second. A decision Akiko Uchiha, younger sister of Madara Uchiha, believes in with all her heart - and yet one that seemingly cost her everything. But for as long as she could remember, she had one dream: peace. And for this dream, she is forced to give up everything indeed. Yet sometimes the brightest things are born of the deepest tragedies and thus, when Akiko Uchiha took up her arms and ran, she had no idea what fortune had in store for her. Warnings: Grapic violence, (canon) character death, canon violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort Length (this chapter): 5,3k. Chapter twenty-two of Akiko’s story. Akiko may have won the duel, but some issues barely have been scraped at while others festered because of it. Upon learning that life outside the compound indeed has been going on plenty without her, she grapples with new realities difficult to accept whilst finding new support.

Long overdue! But due to a number of reasons I simply couldn’t update earlier. I’m glad to be back, though. Thank you so much as always for being my beta reader, @kuramakakashi​, ilysm 💖💖💖

Read here on AO3! Excerpt below:

"How is Touka?"

Instantly, the man froze. 

His gaze snapped to her, so narrow Akiko thought he looked infuriated. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Lackadaisical comments, blunt annoyance, roaring laughter - all of that she had seen from the man before. 

But anger? 

"Fucking amazing," he snapped, vigorously resuming his kata.

Akiko rose to her feet. She took a deep breath. Why had she even asked? It was to be expected. At least she had tried. Not for Gotoku, but for herself. "I see," she waved him off.

Except for once, Gotoku seemed to have none of it. Scowling, he stalked closer suddenly at the dismissal. Instinct - unfortunately, the kind Akiko had honed in battle - had her on edge. 

"Why do  you  care?" He tossed the question at her much like a gauntlet.

Akiko breathed evenly. Just like her instinct had her on her feet and muscles tensed, calmth would breeze through her like a chilly wind. With practised ease, she prepared herself for the argument. Now she was ready to endure. "I never intended to make her suffer permanently."

Gotoku was still a few metres off, but his sneer was painful to watch. "Too bad, you still entered that dumb duel."

Akiko's gaze narrowed a smidge. "I may remind you, she challenged me,"  her tune icy.

Gotoku’s massive arms crossed in front of an equally broad chest. "Still," his tongue clicked condescendingly, "could've said no, you big peacekeeper."

Akiko arched a fine eyebrow up. Name-calling, too? Irritation was bubbling up inside of her, but her mien remained impassive, moreso by sheer force of will. Her tune was lacking too much emotion. "Sure, that worked well before with her," she countered drily enough to dupe his argument.

His lip curled more in apparent disgust, the muscles bunched awkwardly under the short sleeved, green shirt he was wearing for training. As taut as a bowstring, "Do you even hea  yourself-"

"That's rich, Gotoku," Akiko interrupted him sharply, her stare through narrow lids now. His fair anger aside, she would not let this kind of rhetoric stand.  "You  never were in the position I was in. At the mercy of a clan wherein an influential person is hellbent on making you enemy number one. Left with no options to defend yourself until they literally threaten you."

"Yeah," Gotoku bared his teeth slightly, his index finger rising to point accusatoringly at Akiko, "because I don't let my sister get killed for some wacko ideal!"

Akiko's glare flashed the moment red, hot ire filled her veins as her heart achingly hammered against her chest. How dare he.

How dare he.  

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Come and Lay the Roses 29- No Room For Innocence- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Aaline witnesses a blood eagle.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha 

Warnings: arranged marriage, violence, sex, torture, language, mentions of rape/sexual assault

Word Count: 2544

Ch. 28

AN: I’d like to apologize for how long it’s taken me to update. I have no excuses. All I can say is life. 

It took me a while to get the blood eagle scene done. I wasn’t sure how I wanted that to look for a while. I think it turned out okay. I listened to Heimta Thurs by Wardruna the whole time I wrote it to put me in the right head space. 

I’d like to thank everyone who’s stuck with me for this long. I sincerely appreciate you.

“Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.” ~ Samuel Johnson

Aaline heaved as her body expelled what little she’d eaten that day. Her stomach had been in knots all day and it finally rebelled against her. She heaved again as a timid knock sounded on the door. “What?” she croaked. 

Torvi pushed the door open with care and peeked around the frame. She winced when Aaline gagged again, nothing coming up except bile and saliva. 

She pushed her way into the room and shut the door behind her, turning the lock and leaning against it. “Are you alright?” She asked. 

Aaline rolled her eyes up to her sister-in-law and bit back the snarky comment she so badly wanted to express. She clenched her eyes shut as her stomach seized but was thankful when nothing came up. 

“I’m fine.”

“I vomited when I saw my first blood eagle.” Torvi shared. Aaline slowly sat back, her hands still clutching the rim of the toilet. Her nausea had dissipated but her stomach still felt weak. 

“I hid behind the shed. I swore everything I’d eaten in the last week came out of me that night.” Aaline turned her head and stared at Torvi. She had a faraway look in her eyes and a sad smile on her face. 

“Did you love him?” Aaline asked. She remembered that Björn was Torvi's third husband and that her first had been blood eagled by Ragnar after he tried to kill Aslaug and their children. Ivar hadn’t even been born yet and Björn was just a teenager. 

Torvi blinked and turned her head. She smiled fully at Aaline and shook her head. “No. I thought I did but I was young. I didn’t know what love was. The love I had for him was one of companionship and youth. I did not love him like a wife should.”

Aaline nodded, processing. “And you married the son of his executioner.” She looked up when Torvi laughed. 

“I didn’t blame Björn. I didn’t even blame Ragnar. I was angry, yes, but my husband broke our laws, committed crimes. He was going to die no matter what.” Torvi shrugged and stepped deeper into the bathroom.

“Ivar will understand if you are unwell. This is a difficult experience.” Aaline shook her head. 

“I told you, I’m fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ve been feeling under the weather for the last few days. It’s probably just a stomach bug.” Aaline made to stand. Torvi helped her up and studied her closely. Aaline closed the lid of the toilet and flushed, wincing at the reminder of her episode. 

“How long have you been feeling poorly?” Torvi asked. Aaline shrugged, washing her hands. 

“I’m not sure. A few days at least.”

“Just nausea or something else?” Aaline sighed and dried her hands, trying to be patient. 

“Mostly nausea. A few headaches,  some stomach cramps. I’m tired all the time. Really, Torvi, I’m fine. It’s just a stomach bug.” 

She tossed the towel down onto the counter and pulled the door open. “Can we please go? Ivar’s supposed to help me get ready.” Torvi looked at her, her gaze skeptical. She nodded once and preceded Aaline out of the bathroom. Aaline shook her head at Torvi’s behavior and followed her, closing the door behind her.

.

“It’s a preposterous plan. I don’t even know how you talked me into it.” 

“It’s because you know I’m right.” 

Ecbert looked up with sharp eyes at the young woman before him. She held her head high and carried an air of superiority around her. Ecbert didn’t know if she was stupid or just insane. Perhaps a bit of both. 

Ecbert himself wondered where his own sanity had gone to consider this plan. It wasn’t even a good one and he truly didn’t even know its purpose. 

 “I don’t see how this plan will weaken Ragnar.”

The woman scoffed and he narrowed his eyes. “Ivar will go mad with grief and anger. Ragnar won’t be able to control him thus losing control of his men. He’ll be overthrown and you’ll be able to swoop in and take control of his empire.”

The plan was shaky at best. It all hinged on a small group of men being able to go unnoticed by Ragnar Lothbrok’s very observant sons. Even then they weren’t guaranteed a win right away. The women before him needed to stay out of it personally and Ecbert wasn’t sure if she was capable. 

“You remember what we discussed.” He said. 

She narrowed her eyes and sat up straighter almost like she was trying to look intimidating. “I remember.” 

Ecbert arched one perfect brow and waited, hoping she’d take his cue. She did and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not to approach anyone in the Lothbrok family.” She admitted through clenched teeth. 

Ecbert sat back only marginally satisfied. 

“Good.” He waved a hand at her, dismissing her and she rose with anger. Ecbert didn’t flinch when she slammed through the double doors. He was too engrossed in calculating everything that could go wrong with their plan.

.

It was late, almost midnight and Ivar was helping Aaline into the traditional white outfit worn during a blood eagle. Aaline knew very little about the traditions involved in a ritualistic murder. She knew it was a big deal. Their family was taking revenge on the man who murdered Sigurd. 

The blood eagle was a sacrifice to Odin. Aelle would serve as both a warning and a blessing. His death would bless their retribution, keeping them safe from further harm. It would also warn others intent on wronging them. His death would tell them what would happen to anyone who tried to take them down.

White was worn to show the blood that was spilled. It was expected for blood to transfer on all spectators and it would symbolize the blessing that Odin brought upon them.

Traditionally, it was expected that the victim remain silent less they be barred entrance into Valhalla. Björn had talked long about how Jarl Borg had taken the whole of his punishment in silence, never making a sound as Ragnar killed him. 

She could see the respect shining clearly in Björn’s eyes. Even though Jarl Borg had tried to murder his brothers and step-mother, Björn had admiration for the man. Aaline was eager to understand why.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts and she looked up. Hvitserk opened the door and nodded once, pushing it further open and leaving them again. It was time.

Ivar settled his hands on her shoulders and stepped around to face her. “It’s not going to be pretty.” She rolled her eyes and looked away but he caught her chin between his fingers and pulled her back to look at him.

“There’s going to be blood, lots of it. He’ll scream and he’ll cry and there’ll be piss and shit along with the blood. Do you think you can handle that?” Ivar’s voice was soft when he spoke but she could hear the hard edge. He still wanted her to back out. He wanted her to sit up here in their room alone while the rest of the family witnessed the execution of the man responsible for their pain. 

She wrapped her hand around Ivar’s wrist and gently pushed it away. “I think you forget who you’re married to.” She said. 

She stepped around him and headed towards the door, turning at the frame to look over her shoulder at him. He was staring at her, his face unreadable. She cocked an eyebrow. He shook his head and followed her out the door.

As they descended the stairs, the light grew dimmer. The shadows on the wall danced. The smell of incense was heavy in the air. A heavy bass resounded in the air and chains rattled against the stone.

 When they turned the final corner into the room, Aaline allowed herself to take in the scene. Ragnar stood in the center of the room on a raised platform. His back was to them and his shoulders flexed as he worked with something on the table before him. Behind him, standing shoulder width apart, were two identical wooden posts with half circle brackets at the top. 

Ivar cupped her elbow and steered her towards the rest of his siblings. The brothers and their wives were standing in a semi-circle around Sibylle whose eyes were glassy.  Aaline didn’t know if it was her tears or the drugs that gave her the appearance. 

Ivar stopped beside Hvitserk and nodded, folding his hands in front of him as they waited. Aaline surveyed the room. Lagertha stood just behind the table that Ragnar was working at. Rollo and Floki stood across from them, Helga next to Floki. Several of Ragnar’s men filled the rest of the room. She and Ivar were the last to arrive.

Ragnar turned to Rollo and Floki and nodded once. The two men retreated behind a door behind Lagertha. The drum beat held steady. 

Rollo and Floki returned with Aelle bound between them. A gag was tied tight in his mouth and his wrists and ankles were hogtied. He was naked from the waist up. Rollo and Floki stepped onto the platform and shoved Aelle to his knees between the wooden posts. 

She couldn’t hear what he was saying to them but Aaline could see his mouth trying to move around the gag. Rollo and Floki ignored him as they tied his wrists to the posts beside him. Tears poured down his face and she felt more than heard Ivar chuckle behind her.

The fires surrounding them were hot and the incense made her drowsy. She felt like she was outside of herself, watching the movement around her with detachment. She hardly felt Ivar’s hands on her shoulders.   

Ragnar turned then to the trembling Aelle and scanned the line of his back with clinical apathy. He placed a hand on Aelle’s shoulder and the man startled. Ragnar stilled him with strong fingers pressed deep into the meat of his shoulder. Ragnar bent low and settled his face next to Aelle’s. 

Aelle’s screams were drowned out by the thumping of the drums and the crackling of the fire. Blood pooled around his knees as Ragnar drew the blade up the center of his back. Ivar’s fingers tightened on her shoulders.

Her eyes were glued to the scene before her. She felt entranced by Ragnar’s work. Ivar brought his chin down to her shoulder and watched with her.

Ragnar drew the knife quickly across Aelle’s shoulders and back, pulling the skin back from the bones. Blood sailed through the air, spattering the spectators with warm drops. 

Aaline inhaled sharply and the scent of copper filled her sinuses. Ivar’s hands trailed down her arms and to her hands. He knotted their fingers together as more blood sliced through the air and painted their faces. 

Ragnar soon replaced his blade with an axe, the blade winking in the firelight. Aelle’s screams had died as shock set in. He wasn’t dead yet. Aaline could see his chest heaving up and down. Blood dripped down his arms and sides as Ragnar moved his flesh as he pleased. 

With a flash, the axe came down and separated ribs from spine. The sound of breaking bone reverberated through the air, over taking the drums. Ragnar hacked at the bones, sending blood flinging through the air. Aaline could feel it settled on her cheeks and fought back the urge to lick her lips.

Ivar did no such thing, leaning close and licking a long stripe up the side of her face, humming at the metallic taste that coated his tongue. Aaline shivered as his breath ghosted over her ear. “I can’t wait to lick his blood off you.” He nipped sharply at her earlobe and she shivered. He was hard as steel against the small of her back.

With his ribs now spread wide away from his body, Aelle died. Aaline watched as Ragnar finished the ritual, slipping his hands inside Aelle’s chest from behind and pulling his lungs from within. He settled the useless organs across Aelle’s still shoulders and stepped back.

He was covered in blood. His bare feet were sticky with it as he stepped around to Aelle’s front. His hands were stained crimson as he, almost reverently, pushed Aelle’s hair back off his forehead. His face and beard were saturated in the life giving fluid as he gazed down at the man who ordered his son dead. 

When Ragnar’s head came up, Rollo and Floki got to work. 

Aelle was to be placed on display outside of Ecbert’s home. He was to serve as a warning to the rest of the Saxons.

Once Rollo and Floki began cutting down Aelle, the rest of the spectators began making their way out of the ceremony room. A bonfire was lit in the backyard and they were to spend the rest of the night celebrating Aelle’s demise and Sigurd’s life. 

Aaline was confident she and Ivar wouldn’t make it to the bonfire. 

Ivar tugged her back the way they’d come with insistent hands. She allowed him to lead her away, her mind still preoccupied with the blood eagle.

As soon as Ivar had their bedroom door shut, she was pressed face first against the wood of the door. She gasped and smacked her palms against the door. 

Ivar already had his hands under her dress and his fingers inside her panties. His groan vibrated against her back and she shuddered when he immediately sank two thick fingers inside her. “You’re soaked.” He whispered brokenly against her ear. 

She moaned and arched her back, pulling his fingers deeper and feeling him hard against her ass. 

“Did it turn you on? Watching a man die?” He rocked his fingers inside of her, pressing his palm against her clit. She pressed her forehead to the door, pressing back against him. She needed more. More pressure, more fingers, more friction. Just more. 

“More.” She moaned. Ivar cursed and withdrew his fingers. She felt him fumbling behind her. Before she had time to take a breath, he was sheathed to the hilt inside her. She yelped, her muscles stretching to accommodate him. 

The sting between her legs quickly subsided when he started moving. His fingers returned between her legs and circled her clit in quick, firm circles. Her knees buckled but he wrapped an arm around her waist and kept them upright. 

Ivar groaned against her neck before sinking his teeth hard into the muscle of her shoulder. Her pussy clenched around him and he groaned, the vibrations against her skin sending goosebumps down her back. 

Her whole body vibrated and her knees began to shake as her orgasm crested inside her. Ivar circled her clit twice more and her orgasm washed over her. She shook against him, her internal muscles squeezing him tight. He wrapped a hand around her throat and grunted, his cock twitching inside her. 

She sagged against the door, her heart pounding and her knees like jello. Ivar licked the side of her neck, moaning at the taste of sweat and blood.

Tags: @dreamlesswonder @youbloodymadgenius  @inforapound  @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @feyrearcheron-nightcourt @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @kingniazx@revolution-starter @jay-bel

[randaccidents]

I FORGOT TO UPDATE THE DEATH COUNTER FOR THE RP YESTERDAY I WAS TOO SLEEPY

Deaths: Host: 24 Heart: 9 + 1 Mind: 2 Harmonia: 1

deadass Host dies within the same session so often

[sunshinejins]

if i was dying on my knees (you’d be the one to rescue me)

(title from brother by kodaline)

so, hi!  jatp has reignited my desire to write again and this time i think i might actually finish a whole fic.  so uh, here it is :) please let me know if you like it, I’ll hopefully update asap, but i’m in uni so asap may be in like two weeks.  unless people really like it.  then, probably sooner lmao.

pairing: julie molina x luke patterson

fandom: julie and the phantoms

warnings: death bc rose, and i swear once but other than that i think nothing else?

Julie didn’t want to be frustrated, she really didn’t.  In fact, she wanted to be sad, mourning, depressed, or literally anything other than slightly pissed off all the time.  It’s incredibly exhausting to be angry all the time, and she felt like being sad would at least give her blood a break from simmering.

But her mom died.  And apparently her body only knows how to process grief by developing a rather annoying tendency to be irritated constantly.

She tries to forget it though.  Instead of wallowing in the negative feelings that cloud her family in the months following Rose Molina’s death, she throws herself into distractions.  She gets a job at a coffee shop near the USC campus and puts almost all her effort into becoming a top employee.  Her grades don’t drop because thankfully her professors seemed to all inherently understand that she just couldn’t sing anymore.  Like at all.

The world kept spinning.  Julie could only hope to hold on.

That’s how she ended up, six months later, complaining over a milk frother about her very well-intentioned best friend to the only person she knew would listen.

“Flynn just doesn’t understand,” Julie moans, shutting off the machine and dumping the contents unceremoniously into a to-go cup.  Her coworker, Allison, raises an eyebrow and swipes a rag at the milk spill that pools under the cup.

“Did she try to get you to sing again?”

“Surprise karaoke night with her girlfriend and a couple kids from class.  Her intentions were pure though so I don’t even know why I’m upset.” Julie shoves a lid onto the cup and slides it across the counter to a pre-occupied businessman who doesn’t notice the extra milk soaked into the bottom.  Allison nods thoughtfully and starts dumping coffee beans into the espresso machine.  Julie watches her with slight awe.  Allison was one of those people that terrified Julie when she met her; everything about her felt polished and put together down to the blunt cut of her pale blonde hair and the curve of her smirk when she smiled.  Soon enough, Julie discovered that she was as warm as any of her other friends, but it had taken a lot of closing shifts and smoothie runs to come to that conclusion.

Allison sets down the bag of coffee beans and gives Julie one of her solemn looks; it’s the sort of look where Julie thinks Allison could probably read her mind if she tried hard enough.

“Maybe they’re going about it wrong.  You haven’t been around music properly in what?  A year?  What if you just need to sit and listen to music again to just get you used to the environment?” Julie thinks for a moment.  Allison raises a fair point, and it’s the complete opposite tactic that everyone else has been trying, which has been to shove music in front of her to sing and give her expectant and hopeful looks. It’s a trial run.  Something casual.

“Where would I go?” Allison smiles a bit and passes Julie a container of oat milk to put away.

“There’s a bar off Sunset that’s hosting an open mic tonight.  Very relaxed and casual vibes.  I could pick you up from your apartment and take you.  We haven’t hung out since that movie night a while ago.”  Julie hesitates.  It’s not that she’s opposed to spending a night with Allison, but a small part of her feels like she’s cheating on her current circle of emotional support humans by agreeing to go. Not that her dad or Carlos or Tia would mind, but Flynn would possibly take offence and that alone stalled Julie for longer than she realized. Allison clocks the look on her face and amends the statement.

“Flynn is obviously welcome too.”

A mind reader, Julie swears. 

“Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

***

Julie’s feeling significantly less optimistic when Allison’s car has been driven away by the valet and herself, Flynn, and Allison are all standing in line outside the club. Julie can feel the bass of the songs playing more than she can hear them, but the proximity of music is enough to make her palms sweat. Other than the music the coffee shop plays and the strains of country she hears through Carlos’ wall, Julie hasn’t heard proper music since Tia Victoria sang “Amazing Grace” for her mother’s funeral. Flynn notices her nervous look. 

“Chill, Jules. It’s all very chill. We’re just gonna listen to a couple bands.” 

“Flynn’s right. And if at any point you want to bail, we can go get soft pretzels.” 

“But we should try and stay for the whole thing!”

“However, we’re also going to respect you if you can’t do that,” Allison punctuates this sentence with a meaningful eyebrow raise and Flynn nods vigorously. Julie swallows and tries to mimic the courage she had a few hours ago.  The bartender scrutinizes their IDs for a moment before allowing them to sweep into the bar and Julie’s jaw nearly drops at the volume of people contained inside.  Nearly every seat is filled, and the standing areas are packed with people all jamming to the band onstage that’s currently playing what Julie has to admit is a pretty kick ass cover of “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers.  

Allison somehow discovers a table near the edge of the bar, and disappears off to get them drinks.  Flynn’s rocking out already, and Julie feels a few of the nerves in her stomach even out as the realization that she doesn’t have to sing sinks into her bones.  Allison was right, unsurprisingly.  If she focuses hard enough, she can even push out the memories of coming to these sorts of open nights with her mom.  Flynn shoots her a large and grateful grin and Julie lets herself smile back.  She’s taking a step.  She’s doing it.

Allison returns as the band switches and a new band begins to play a hyped up cover of “Africa” by Toto.  The three girls lapse into quiet appreciation of the music, with Flynn singing along to every song played, Allison bobbing her head to herself and occasionally letting out a few notes in her vocal range, and Julie just quietly appreciating the fact that she doesn’t feel like throwing up.

It’s all very casual, just like her friends said.

Until it’s not.

As the third band of the night begins their last song, Julie retreats to find the bathroom.  It’s hidden nearly backstage, and she’s just about to make it to the door when she hears the panicked shouts of someone from near the curtain which separates the small backstage from the actual performing area.

“Dude, I cannot believe he bailed on us.”

“Are you really surprised?  Bobby was a piece of shit.”

“Hey, he didn’t use to be!”

“Calm down, Reg.  You know he’s been treating us like garbage ever since that record label thought he had a ‘marketable voice’ or whatever they said.”

“Guys he bailed on us, what are we supposed to do?”

Julie, despite all the “stranger danger” lessons running through her brain, backed up far enough to see into the backstage area.  Three guys stood there, two with a guitar and a bass each and one with drumsticks he was nervously twirling.  The one with the guitar had his face buried in his hands and kept swearing heavily under his breath.  The other two seemed frozen in their own panic as well.  Guitar Player removed his hands from his face and Julie caught a glimpse of worried hazel eyes and dark curls.  Bass Player opened his arms and Guitar Player tumbled into them for a hug while Drum Player rubbed his back.  The three guys looked absolutely wrecked.

Here’s the thing: Julie had an uncontrollable urge to help people.  It’s how she got roped into half of Flynn’s schemes, how she ended up teaching Carlos all of his second grade science curriculum herself, and how she somehow became the unofficial backbone of her family after her mom died.  Seeing three guys utterly wrecked because, presumably, their fourth bandmate had bailed on them?  It activated that uncontrollable urge deep in her stomach.

Here’s another thing: Julie hasn’t played music or sang in six months.  She’s had no desire to, and every time she’s tried, the distinct urge to throw up overtook her.  Tonight was supposed to be the baby step that showed her whether or not music was something she could seriously consider again; whether or not she could feel that itch to perform anymore.

“Hey, do you guys need a fourth?”

She felt the itch.  

The three guys looked up in varying levels of shock.  Drum Player recovered first, and stepped towards her hesitantly, wringing his pink hoodie as he did.

“Um, what?”

“It sounded like someone bailed on you.  I can play.  If you need it.”  Guitar Player recovers next and nearly bounds over to her in barely contained excitement.

“You can play rhythm guitar?”

“No,” the three boys deflate, “I can play piano though.”  Guitar Player tilts his head to the side as though playing a melody through in his head.  He turns back to the other two.

“Bright could fit piano.”

“We never wrote the music for a piano component,” Drum Player wrinkles his nose.

“I did,” Guitar Player admits.  The other two don’t look phased, though Bass Player does raise an eyebrow.  “I was bored!”

“Okay, but we don’t want to put you out,” Drum Player turns back to Julie and she swallows.  

“No, I offered.  Let me see the music.”

“Okay, but you have like ten minutes!” Bass Player finally chips in with a surprisingly cheerful tone.  Guitar Player hands Julie what looks like a piece of notebook paper and her eyes skim the words and notes.  It’s feasible for sure, but she can feel the nerves prickling at her stomach.  Guitar Player leans into her space and she clocks how ridiculously attractive he is up close.  He gives her a smile.

“We alternative verses like this, see?  And I don’t know your range, but we can figure that out on the go.”  Julie gives him a small smile.

“Somewhere between mezzo-soprano and soprano.”

“We can work with that.” Guitar Player seems to vibrate with energy.  “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“No pressure,” Bass Player adds.

“Like seriously, none.  We can just go home and cry,” Drum Player says.  Julie isn’t sure.  She really isn’t.  In fact, she’s pretty sure she should just run away and hope she never sees these guys again.

“I’m sure.”

Well, that’s that.

Guitar Player sends her a smile that looks genuinely like someone has funnelled sunlight into his body and Julie feels the nerves lift for half a second.  Then, they’re called to the stage and all of a sudden she feels like she could puke all over again.  Guitar Player grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“You got this.”

Julie files out with the rest of the band and she’s extremely grateful her friends aren’t sitting in her direct line of sight.  The piano is definitely worn out from use, but her fingers settle naturally on the keys and Julie tries to focus on the budding itch to perform in her stomach rather than the urge to throw up.  She’s supposed to start this song.  This song that she became aware of ten minutes earlier.  She catches Guitar Player’s eye and he nods encouragingly.

She presses down on the keys and opens her mouth. 

Sometimes I think I'm falling down

I wanna cry, I'm calling out

For one more try to feel alive

And when I feel lost and alone

I know that I can make it home

Fight through the dark and find the spark

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

If You Just Realize

Part Four: Full Bloom

Summary: Concerned about losing Milena or anyone else, Sebastian makes a desperate request of his friend.  Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 1905 Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Chapter Warnings: Bit of a cliffhanger.  Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo​. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language. 

This part wasn’t scheduled till tomorrow buttttt I have no chill so ... Happy Reading! 

Series Masterlist

“Oprește cu agitația.”

Sebastian did his best to heed Y/N’s warning, but he couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was too nervous about what was going to happen and what he would be told when he walked into the lawyer’s office. Fortunately, he only had to wait a few more minutes before Philip Hobb, his longtime lawyer, stuck his head out of his office and beckoned Sebastian in. 

“Please, have a seat,” he said, motioning to the chairs in front of the desk. “I’m sorry for the wait, telephone call went long. I’m so sorry to hear about Irina, Seb. How’s the family holding up?”

Sebastian looked at Y/N, then back to Philip. “We’re doing the best we can. Philip, this is my very good friend, Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, Philip Hobb.”

The two of them shook hands, and then Philip got down to business. “I’ve already been in touch with the Hills’ lawyer. They are seeking joint custody, as you expected. But that’s not what Irina wanted.”

Sebastian shook his head. “No. Unfortunately, there was never anything on paper, but she had a conversation with my mother about what to do with Milena if anything ever happened to her. Milena’s father signed his rights away when she was born, but his parents chose to stay involved in her life. Irina was always open to that, and I, of course, don’t want to keep them from their granddaughter.”

Philip sat back in his chair, folding his hands over his abdomen. “I want to be sure, before we go through all of this, that you’re not trying to hold on to your sister by holding on to Milena. You can’t bring Irina back, and there’s a potential here for a little girl to go through a lot of hard things for you to only want to keep whatever piece of Irina you can grasp onto.”

Y/N reached out and squeezed Sebastian’s hand. Philip was speaking as a friend — one who was capable of speaking truths no one else could. She saw Sebastian’s eyes glaze over but he didn’t hold long to her hand. 

“I just want to do what Irina would have wanted me to do.”

Phillip went back to the notes on his desk. “Okay then. Let’s lock down some particulars. I’ll get it written up and sent to their lawyer, we’ll go from there. Who has Milena right now?”

“After the funeral, we decided to let Milena decide where she wanted to go. She opted to stay with my parents.”

Y/N added, “But I think it’s because she knew Sebastian was going to be there. Maybe I’m biased, though.”

“That’s good to know,” Philip smiled. “I don’t mean to get personal, but are you two …?”

They both chuckled, used to the question by now. Sebastian clarified that they were only friends but also that the speculation was familiar. 

“Guess we’ll cross that off as a tactic for our case then,” Philip teased. 

Y/N exchanged a glance with Sebastian. “I’m sorry, what do you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing serious, of course — really, it was a joke. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Sometimes, like in the case of a single guy who wants to take custody of a little girl, having a woman around regularly helps. It’s nothing really, we’ve got plenty to help us out here.”

Philip moved the conversation on then, but the thought lingered in both Y/N’s and Sebastian’s mind well past the end of the meeting. 

After the meeting, Y/N went back to the Waldorf. She was checking out the next day anyway, since her stay had become indefinite, and Sebastian had convinced her to stay in his guest bedroom for the time being. He went back to his parents’ house to retrieve their things. He would update Georgeta and Anthony on the situation and check in on Milena. 

And Y/N would have time to think about some things. 

Yes, she had wanted more than ever to pull Sebastian as close as she could over the last few days — since the moment he had called and told her that Irina was gone. She had missed him, so much, in the months since they had last seen each other. She appreciated how comfortable they were with each other, that they could show affection without the gestures being perceived the wrong way. 

Except … 

Philip Hobb’s question about whether they were together or not, and the teasing that followed, had put wheels into motion in her mind. Sebastian was an attractive man; she found him to be more handsome than most. He was kind, loyal, caring, and he made her laugh. She could be herself around him. 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Y/N chided herself as she packed the last few of her belongings into her rolling carry-on. “Your emotions are running high because you want to help him. Sebastian is a good friend, we’re very close. That’s it, case closed.”

By the time she reached Sebastian’s apartment, she had almost convinced herself of that. Scolding herself for reading more into their relationship than what was obviously there, she let herself in with the copy of the key Sebastian had given her when they returned from their coffee date that morning, unpacked a few things, and laid down to take a nap. Once she was rested, she would have more energy to convince herself that she was being overly-emotional and needed to get it together. 

The meeting with the lawyer took a lot out of Sebastian, but there was no avoiding his parents’ questions when he returned. He explained that Philip was going to do his best to get him at least residential and primary custody of Milena, if not full custody with visitations for the Hills. 

“It’s not going to be pretty, I would imagine,” Sebastian sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Is the little one napping? I might crash out with her for a while before I meet up with Y/N again later.”

Anthony shook his head. “She’s with the Hills. Since she’s been here a couple of days, they asked to see her.”

That was well and fair, but Sebastian admitted to himself that he was afraid, for some reason, that the Hills would never give her back. In the same way he would never see Irina again, what if he never saw Milena again?

Get out of your head, he scolded himself. Hadn’t Philip specifically warned him that he couldn’t fight for custody of Milena only to hang on to Irina? No, it wasn’t that. No one, not even Milena, would ever replace the bond he had with his little sister. That didn’t mean, though, that he wanted to lose anyone else. 

As he gathered his things and made sure all of Y/N’s were packed into her bag, he pushed out all thoughts of losing Milena. That made room for thoughts about his friend, though, and the things Philip had said during the meeting. 

Y/N had been his first phone call after he got off the phone with his mother that day. He had felt like he was drowning — he was still only treading the surface, occasionally coming up for air — and she was the thing that kept him fighting. He knew that he would push through for his mother and for his niece, but Y/N was the push he needed to put in more effort than simply going through the motions. She was the person he could lean on when it felt like everyone else was leaning on him; she was home when he felt like he had nowhere else to run. 

“Keeping thinking like that, you’re going to ruin the best friendship you’ve got,” he mumbled to himself as he shouldered both of their bags. 

But the idea that had seeded in his mind and sprouted up once before grew more. Shaking his head, Sebastian headed to bid his parents see-you-later. He would nap at home. 

Remember when we first met And everything was still a bet In love’s game You would call; I’d call you back And then I’d leave A message On your answering Machine

Sebastian smiled as he entered his apartment. He could hear music coming from the kitchen, could smell whatever Y/N was cooking. She was singing along to the words, an older song that she had overplayed over the years. He didn’t mind. 

After dropping the bags in their respective rooms, he went to the kitchen, and greeted her. She turned to smile at him before going back to the rice she was cooking on the stove. 

“Hey, I wondered when you were gonna be home! I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

Sebastian shook his head and leaned on the counter near where she was standing. “Not at all. Had to catch my parents up with everything, took the long way home to do some thinking. Milena is back with the Hills. They asked to see her.”

Y/N turned down the heat on the rice and put a lid on the pan. She took one good look at Sebastian and threw her arms around his neck. She held on tight, and Sebastian didn’t hesitate to hold her back even tighter. 

“Milena’s going to come back. You said yourself that if you have custody of her, you’ll let the Hills see her. You’re not going to lose her, they’re not going to take her. That doesn’t do them any good.” She kissed his cheek. “Everything is going to be okay, Seb. Maybe it’s not going to be easy. But it’s going to be okay.”

She stepped away to tend to the rice, but Sebastian held her tighter. She resumed her embrace, nuzzling against his neck and not pulling away until he was ready. 

When supper was ready, they ate together, mostly in silence. Y/N didn’t want to push any issues that were already sensitive for Sebastian, and he had far too much on his mind to talk about much of anything. They cleaned up together, watched a little television, then Y/N excused herself to go to bed. 

“Don’t stay up too late, all right?” she warned him, kissing his cheek. “You’ve had a crazy few days. If you don’t get some sleep, you’re not going to be able to keep up with Milena when you get her.”

Sebastian nodded. “I’ll go to bed soon, I promise.”

But it was hours past midnight and he was still sitting on the floor in front of the couch, not even aware of what was playing on the television. He was staring at the picture that had been taken a minute or two after Irina had told him she was pregnant with Milena. He had been staring at that picture for … he didn’t even know how long it had been at this point. Maybe if he stared at it long enough, he’d find some answers to the thoughts racing around in his head. Another hour passed and found him still in the same place he had been for most of the evening. 

“Seb? You okay?” Y/N was standing a few feet away, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Sebastian opened his mouth several times before he looked again at the picture. He thought about Irina, he thought about Milena, he thought about Y/N. He could only think of one thing to say, so he let the words roll off his tongue. 

“Y/N, would — will you marry me?” 

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @hurricanerin​ @horsesandbandsforlife​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @shynara51​ @sea040561​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xtina2191​ @jackryanplz​ @beakami​ @heartsaved​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​ @averyrogers83​ @jennmurawski13​

IYJR: @elsatxx​ @tanelle83​ @amanda-teaches​ @etherealwaifgoddess​ @kmuir1​ @ntlmundy​ @jayankles​ @rebekahdawkins​ @denise1605​ @rhadigen​ @peace-love-hobbitness​ @itsallyscorner​ @mizzzpink​ @auspiciousharriet​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @learisa​

[kryptored]

Blue boy feeling blue (needs to have kisses to chase the blues away)

I swear I'm gonna update and post the second chapter of my LK exchange fic, but I just had to get this out of my system after seeing THIS art by @sidsinning.

AO3

He wakes up with his head feeling heavy; as if someone had stuffed his skull with cotton to replace his brain. He tries to move, but as soon as he does, he sees the world tilt and turn and swivel all around –

“Maaaa! Ju-” a cough interrupts his shout, before continuing his call with a weaker and strained voice, “J-juleka?”

It takes about 5 seconds for him to hear the thundering footsteps of his family getting closer, and a few more before their concerned faces appear.

“We heard you yelling like a scared pup; what’s wrong?” Anarka approaches her son, who’s in–between struggling to sit up and trying not to throw up, and combs through the mess called his hair. “You alright, son? You’re looking a bit *peely wally right now.”

“He’s kind of burning up, Ma.” Juleka says, her hand resting on her brother’s forehead. Luka is a little surprised to not have noticed her do that, but then again, he’s feeling too out of it to even know what’s happening to him.

“Wha…I feel awful. W-why…?”

“Tsk, you were out in the *baltic weather while drenched like a drowning cat for too long, is why and what happened!” Anarka tightens her grip on Luka’s clump of black and blue hair, but not enough to have him flinch and only to serve as a warning.

“I should’ve known that big brothers could be this stupid, especially when around – “Luka swipes at her with his weak arm, interrupting Juleka with her lecture. She effortlessly avoids getting hit, even if she knows her brother doesn’t have enough strength to make his point, and laughs at him.

“That’s what you get, really. Sometimes I hate when my stubbornness shines through one or the both of you. You should’ve stayed at the Dupain-Chengs for a while to dry and warm up like you were asked to, instead of walking back home like soaked to the bone.”

“Maaaaa…”

“Don’t ‘Ma’ me, Luka! You should see yourself right now. Even your girl was adamant on giving you a sweater she made for you, or so your sister heard. I didn’t peg you for the daft type.”

“S’was ‘posed t’be… her surprise.” Unable to stay sitting up, Luka gives in to gravity and falls back into bed,. The drop has him feeling queasier than when he woke up. “She shu’nt have.”

“Listen to yourself.” His mother shakes her head in disappointment, unbelieving at how her son is acting. And to think he was the responsible one out of the three of them. Just as her mouth opens to lecture him some more, she sees her daughter with her phone out. “Juleka, what’re you doing?”

“I’m recording him; this doesn’t happen much. I’m taking as much blackmail material as possible.”

“Your brother is sick. Your own blood.”

“Just let me have this, Ma. Besides, he’s going to need proof of what happens when he starts acting reckless.”

“Fine, but could you at least fetch him a glass of water and some medicine? Your brother’s throat is probably as dry as a desert.”

“Yeah, sure.”

As Juleka goes to find what’s needed, Anarka turns back to her son, who’s miserably trying to will away his sickness by tightly closing his eyes and clenching his fists against his blanket. She reaches out to his hands one by one and gently pries his fingers off the fabric, and massages the lines on his forehead away.

“There, there. You’ll get through this; I know you will.” She turns back to Juleka, back from the kitchen, and takes the glass of water medicine from her. “You’re a Couffaine, after all. Now drink this and go back to sleep. I’ll make some soup for you to eat when you wake up.”

“Too sick… eat.” Luka manages to say after washing the pill down his throat. He’s never felt so thirsty until now, evident from how he finishes the entire glass. “Don’ wanna.”

“You’ll be saying otherwise when you wake up and your stomach’s trying to imitate a whale mating call, dummy.”

Oh, whatever happened to his sweet little sister? Those are his last thoughts before he succumbs to the heaviness of his lids.

He wakes up feeling warm, and not the comfortable kind of warm. The moment Luka’s eyes blink awake, he tries not to move his head too much in fear of witnessing the world go round and round and round and –

“Oh, you’re awake.”

He turns his head slowly towards the doorway and sees his sister leaning on the side.

“How’re you feeling?” The slight scrunch of her brows lets him know just how worried she is.

“Uh…” he starts to get up, thankful that he doesn’t feel like his whole body is spinning out of control, and puts a hand against his stomach. Soon enough, he feels the rumble before he hears it. “M’hungry.”

He chooses to ignore the smirk Juleka gives him.

“Why don’t you take a shower? Make sure you wear something dry and warm right after, okay? I’ll heat up the soup up for you while you’re at it.”

After Juleka leaves, Luka sluggishly gets up from bed, skipping to make his bed while silently promising to do it later (when he’s all better). As he struggles to walk forward, he feels his shirt sticking to his skin. The disgusting feeling of his sweat acting as glue between his shirt and skin has him walking a little faster to the washroom, picking up a recently washed towel from the cabinet.

It takes him about 20 minutes to shower, and about 5 minutes and counting trying to find something to wear. So far, all he’s succeeded in is choosing some light blue pyjama bottoms. The sight of him standing shirtless with his towel resting on his shoulder, his back facing the doorway, is how Juleka finds him.

“What’re you doing standing around shirtless for? Are you seriously trying to make yourself even sicker?”

She approaches him to whack him on the shoulder, albeit softer than she normally would as an act of mercy.

“M’trying to find something warm to wear, but I can’t choose.”

“You could wear the sweater I made for you, if you want.”

The sound of Marinette’s voice jolts Luka awake, turning around too quick for his liking. Pushing back the nausea from his sudden movement, he takes in the sight of the girl standing outside his room, a small bag on hand.

“Oh yeah, I was gonna tell you that Marinette came by while you were in the shower.” Said girl approaches them as she rummages inside the bag she carries. “She also brought you some noodles and stuff.”

“Mhm. I put the noodles in the chicken soup your mom made. Better put this on before you get cold.” She hands him something thick and blue, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s the same sweater she intended to surprise him with. The same sweater she offered him yesterday, before he woke up feeling like death warmed over him.

“I’m not taking any arguments right now so, wear this sweater and get your stubborn Couffaine ass into the kitchen.”

“I’ll change the bedding; you guys go ahead when you’re done.” Juleka offers, her hands already busy with throwing out Luka’s blanket onto the laundry basket. “With how much sweating you did, your bed’s probably gone *scabby and *howlin.”

Muttering his arguments to the two girls, Luka wears his sweater and attempts to tame his hair. He stops when Marinette takes hold of his wrists and pulls him out the room.

“Don’t bother with your hair, I can fix it for you while you’re eating.” She looks back at the boy she’s dragging to the kitchen. “Did you drink some water since you woke up?”

“Yeah. After shower.”

“Mm…that’s good.”

Marinette pushes him down the seat by the counter and sets the bowl of soup in front of him.

“Here you go.” She takes the glass of water that Anarka passes to her. “I’m just going to fetch the bag from your room. Don’t do anything rash; your mom has her eyes on you right now.”

“You’re looking a lot better now, Luke. Did you have a good sleep?”

“Uhuh…” He shoves a spoonful of the broth to his mouth, thankful that it’s not too hot that it burns him, and he hums in satisfaction as it goes down his throat. “Feel lil’ better.”

“That’s good.”

Their conversation is put to a halt when Marinette returns with her bag, her arm reaching inside of it.

“I brought you a care package, even though you brought this onto yourself.”

Luka grunts in retaliation, but finds it useless him and continues to enjoy his soup. His eyes follow Marinette’s arms whenever she puts something on the counter beside him.

“Here are some chicken and rice soup, and it’s got green chiles and ginger. I wasn’t sure if your mom – ”

“For the hundredth time; call me Anarka, dear.”

“ – Anarka, made you some soup and what kind so, I brought it into a single serving container. If any of you want some, I can always come by and bring you some more. You all know how my Maman is. Also, I have tea, some socks, a scarf, crackers, bananas, and I even made some applesauce!”

She excitedly brings the small jar of applesauce by her cheeks, and it suddenly hits Luka how worried he must’ve made the people precious to him. As he lets this sink in, his brows pinch themselves together and the skin on forehead wrinkles. He slowly drops the spoon down the bowl, shoulders dropping, and the corners of his mouth turned down.

“It’s a good thing it’s the weekend,” Marinette combs her fingers through his unruly hair, “or I wouldn’t have enough time to – oh, no! What’s wrong?”

Luka’s eyes look up to Marinette, who’s suddenly moved closer to him and looks him in the eyes.

“What’s wrong, Luka?” His mother asks, leaning a little closer from her seat in front of him, “Are you feeling something else? Is it coming back?”

“No, no. I-It’s nothing, I just… I’m sorry for worrying all of you.” He makes a face, and it’s not the one that they like to see at all. “I’m sorry for not listening and acting like a *roaster.”

Sitting by the counter, with his large, blue sweater hanging off of his shoulders lopsidedly, his hair still in need of more grooming, and pale. Luka has never felt and looked so small until now.

Unable to stand the sight of him feeling so vulnerable, Marinette cups his cheek kisses him soundly on the cheek. This takes him by surprise, as he doesn’t move nor say anything for a short while. Marinette can only giggle at the sight of an unresponsive Luka, while Anarka chuckles at what has transpired.

“You don’t have to feel bad about it, Luka. We’re just glad that you’re okay now. But promise me next time that you don’t go out in the chilly streets of Paris, with nothing but a light jacket on to keep you warm, and soaking wet.”

“Best listen to your girl, Luka. She knows what she’s doing; a definite keeper.”

He smiles at their words and blushes hard. He doesn’t bother hiding the flush on his face and continues eating his soup, and Juleka finally comes out of their bedroom and calls out to him.

“Have you finally knocked some sense into him, Marinette?”

“Yeah, I think I have.”

“Think he’s contagious, Ma?”

“He’s feeling better now so, I don’t think so.”

“Great, that means I can do – ” Juleka wraps her arms around her brother from behind, careful to not jostle him so much and spill the soup, “  – this!”

Luka doesn’t say anything, still, but pats at his sister’s arms as he enjoys his soup.

“Ooh! I wanna join in, too!” Marinette says, before hugging him from the side while trying to make sure he can still move his arms.

“Don’t forget about the captain of this boat!” He doesn’t feel his mother touch him, but knows that she’s hugging Marinette and Juleka from the sudden gain of weight on his back and side.

“Oh! Are we doing a group hug? Let me join, too!” he recognizes the voice as Rose’s, which is coming from the door, and his smile stretches wider even with the spoon stuck in his mouth.

This is what home feels like, and he loves it.

Scottish slangs marked with [*]:

Peely Wally - looking unwell, pale.

Baltic - freezing cold.

Scabby - dirty.

Howlin - smelly.

Roaster - idiot.

[rileywrites]

Hi you say in your bio that prompts are open but I still want to ask and make sure. I have one for nile/booker, the first time both of them said "I love you" to the other. Thank you if you decide to write this! Also wanted to say your book of nile series is AMAZING! I am always excited getting the emails of a new fic!

Prompts are absolutely open! Thank you so much for your lovely comments as well. <3

(Read on Ao3)

Nile has been immortal for fifteen years.

Dying never gets less terrifying and disorienting.

"C'mon, Nile, wake up."

Somehow, the least violent deaths can have the worst consequences. Nile knew the drink was poisoned as soon as she tasted it, but it was too late. Death came too fast to stop it and too slow to be a relief.

"Nile, I need you to wake up. I need you to stay with me."

It's hard to muster the energy to open her eyes. Puking yourself to death and then back to life will do that to you.

"Oh thank fuck." Booker looks like he's seen a ghost. He holds her up so she can retch without aspirating. "That's it, get the last of it out."

"Fuck." It comes out raw, voice ruined from the poison and the stomach acid.

"I couldn't agree more." Booker squeezes the back of her neck. "Let's get out of here, before they realize your body is gone."

"Help me?" Nile can tell her body isn't done healing yet.

"I've got you." Booker hoists her up, his arm around her waist and her arm around his shoulders. They've done this a thousand times before, so even Nile's weak body can handle the muscle memory. "Good?"

"As I can be." Everything hurts. "Fuck poison."

"Fuck poison," Booker agrees.

Nile lets her head hang as Booker maneuvers her back to the car. Keeping her eyes open is too hard.

The next time she regains full consciousness, Booker is carrying her into the safehouse. It's tiny, a bolt-hole Joe and Nicky bought in the '40s.

"You need to shower," Booker says, propping her against the counter. "Need help?"

"Please."

Booker disarms her, putting her weapons aside to clean later. Nile lifts her arms so he can get her shirt off.

"Careful, I don't want you to get any more vomit on you," he warns, maneuvering it over her head and tossing it on the floor. "I will burn that later."

Together, they get Nile out of her clothes and into the shower. Booker sits on the closed toilet lid to ensure she doesn't pass out again.

By the time she's clean, Nile is back to her baseline level of exhaustion.

"I'm good, Book."

Booker hands a towel around the shower curtain.

"I'll handle our clothes, then I'll take my turn."

Nile dries off some and wraps the towel around herself. Getting out of the shower is a bit of a risk, but Booker steadies her.

"Thanks. I'm gonna get dressed."

"And drink some water."

"And drink some water," Nile parrots, her smile belying her mocking tone.

Nile ends up wearing one of Booker's umpteen denim shirts and a pair of athletic shorts that were probably Joe's at some point. She makes a mental note to pick up some more clothes for her go-bag before they leave. They don't keep much at the less-used safehouses.

Booker will worry if she goes to sleep too soon, so Nile settles in one of the two mismatched chairs at the table wedged into the corner of the living space.

Booker strips to his underwear to examine the damage. The worst of their sullied clothes go into the furnace, the rest into the pile for laundry.

"I'll be quick," he promises. "Drink your water, and don't fall asleep without me there. Deal?"

"Deal." Nile crosses her heart. "Go, get clean. You deserve a hot shower."

She updates the team on the shitshow and stows her satellite phone in her backpack. She'll worry about the implications of this fuckery tomorrow. For now, she just wants to go to bed.

Booker emerges from the bathroom in clean underwear and a tank top, no longer smelling vaguely of Nile's death throes. He looks soft and cozy, damp hair hanging in his eyes.

"C'mon, bed time. You're mostly asleep already."

Nile gets into bed while Booker checks all the locks again. He joins her, crawling under the mountain of quilts and settling on his side facing her.

Nile holds out her hand, and he takes it, thumb skimming her pulse point.

"I'm okay," she whispers. "We're okay."

The long, painful deaths are always the hardest to cope with on both sides of the encounter.

"I know." Booker forces a tiny smile. "Get some sleep."

Nile is not in a place to argue. She tugs the quilts up to her chin with her free hand, closes her eyes, and slips almost immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

...

Nile wakes an unknown number of hours later alone, a note left on Booker's pillow.

Went to get some groceries. Eat something, please. Will be back by noon local. - B.

It's only eleven. She is hungry though, thanks to the total evacuation of dinner last night.

Nile finds a granola bar in the pantry that isn't stale yet. It'll do.

She's halfway through the (kind of shitty) granola bar when Booker gets back with the groceries.

"Look who's up. Catch." He pulls something out of the bag and tosses it at her. "I found the fancy juice you like."

Nile catches the bottle and grins.

"Fuck yeah. Shit like this is why I'm in love with you, Book."

She has the cap off and the bottle to her lips before the comment registers. Before she realizes how still Booker has become.

"Yeah?" He asks, carefully casual.

Nile takes stock. She doesn't want to answer this rashly.

Looking back at the past fifteen years through this lens, a clear picture starts to form.

"Yeah," Nile finally says. "Yeah, I love you."

Booker puts the last few things in the fridge.

"I got a pack of t-shirts," he says, taking the grocery bag into the bedroom.

Nile sits there with her half-eaten granola bar, processing what the hell just happened.

Did she just ruin their shared eternity?

Booker comes back in before she can spiral. His boots thud on the linoleum.

A man on a mission, Booker pulls her out of the chair into his arms and kisses her. Nile wraps her arms around his neck.

Nile feels a piece of her soul click into place that she didn't even realize she was missing.

When they finally part, moments or days or years later, Booker rests his forehead against hers.

"I love you, too. I'm in love with you."

The reassurance soothes a brand-new ache in Nile's chest. She plays with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Good. That's... that's good. Because I love you." Nile kisses him again. "So this is a thing we're doing?"

"I've been doing it far longer than you realize," Booker says in that pained, half-joking tone that means he's serious. "It's about time you joined me."