#ch: i'll find the truth; i'll never stop

[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird - Ch. 2 - Echoes of Stardust

Summary: After a disheartening audition failure, Valerie Pedretti finds herself in a Las Vegas bar, nursing her first-ever alcoholic drink and wallowing in self-pity. The night takes an unexpected turn when she's noticed by Elvis Presley's right-hand man and whisked away to a private party hosted by the man himself.

Word count: ~4,000 Warnings: Alcohol consumption, implied infidelity, mild sexual content.

I slumped onto a crimson velvet barstool, elbows thudding against the lucite armrests. After that disastrous audition for Frank Sinatra's chorus line, all I wanted was to crawl into the nearest hole and disappear. Figures I'd royally screw up my one shot at making it big. Typical Valerie luck.

The bartender, a suave older gentleman in a crisp white jacket, glided over. "What'll it be, miss?" 

"Gin and tonic. Make it a double," I muttered, massaging my throbbing temples. What was I even saying? I never so much as drank a lick of alcohol in my life, but I figured it was as good a time as any to start. God knows I needed something stiff to dull the sting of rejection. 

As he busied himself, I replayed the audition in my head. My usually reliable pipes had been shakier than a newborn foal, and I'd flubbed the steps. The smirks from the other hopefuls had said it all–I was way out of my league. Some nobody from Chicago, trying to rub elbows with seasoned Vegas performers? I must've been out of my mind.

The clink of glass snapped me out of my reverie. I snatched up the drink and took a hefty swig, wincing at the biting fizz. Awful. But at least the hotel bar had booze heavy enough to give me a buzz, even if this trip was turning into a spectacular failure. 

I was about to take another sip when a shock of ginger hair caught my eye across the room. It couldn't be… but there was no mistaking that towering build. Red, Elvis Presley's right-hand man himself, larger than life and heading straight towards me.

"Well I'll be damned," he boomed. "If it ain't that pretty little songbird from the elevator."

I nearly spewed my drink. He remembered me? More importantly, he remembered that ludicrous pet name Elvis had bestowed upon me?

"Uh, hi there," I stammered. "Fancy seeing you again."

Red just chuckled. "You clean up real nice. Mr. Burrows know you're here drowning those sorrows all by your lonesome?"

My cheeks flushed at the mention of him. Truth be told, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about our electric encounter. The velvety timbre of his voice, the scorching intensity of his gaze, the way his presence made the air hum... it was enough to make a girl go weak in the knees. But I sure as hell wasn't about to admit that to Red.

"Oh, I'm sure he has more important things to worry about than little old me," I said breezily. "I was just about to call it a night."

"That so?" Red's grin turned sly. "Well, it just so happens the boss is having a little private soirée up in his suite right about now. What do you say we head up there and turn that frown upside down?"

My heart seized. An invitation to Elvis's inner sanctum? It was an unbelievable stroke of luck. Or a supremely bad idea. Probably both. I gnawed my lip, trying to quell the dizzying swirl of anticipation and trepidation.

On one hand, the chance to spend more time basking in Elvis's orbit was tempting as all get-out. I could feel that dangerous pull, the siren song of his star power luring me in. But on the other hand, the man was married and a known womanizer—the last thing I needed was to get tangled up in that mess, no matter how electrifying his smile.

Red cocked a brow at my dithering. "Clock's ticking, honey. You in or out?"

Oh, what the hell. Throwing caution to the wind had always been a specialty of mine, and it wasn't like this night could get worse. I tossed back my drink and wobbled to my feet.

"Lead the way, Red. Let's see what the fuss is about."

His smirk said he'd sniffed out my burgeoning fascination with his boss, but I lifted my chin and sailed past. The die was cast, for better or worse. I was about to enter the point of no return.

The journey to Elvis's suite passed in a blur of nerves and Red's idle chitchat. I was only half-listening, too busy trying to calm the riot of butterflies in my stomach. What was I thinking, waltzing into Elvis's suite like some groupie? This was bound to end in disaster.

But it was too late to turn back. Red was already rapping on a mahogany door. I sucked in a breath, bracing myself for whatever lay on the other side.

The door swung open to reveal none other than Elvis himself, a vision with tousled midnight hair. His full lips curved into a heart-stopping smile when his molten gaze landed on me, sending a shiver of awareness skittering down my spine.

"Well well well," he drawled, his voice dark honey and sin. "Looks like Red went and rescued a little lost songbird."

I fought the urge to swoon right then and there, mentally cataloguing all the reasons why getting involved with Elvis was a terrible idea—starting with the wedding band gleaming on his finger.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Burrows," I somehow managed to say without squeaking. "I hope I'm not intruding."

He chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense, sweetheart. Any friend of Red's is a friend of mine. Come on in and make yourself at home."

He stepped back to allow me entry, his burning gaze never leaving my face. I could feel it like a physical caress as I crossed the threshold into the opulent suite, my skin prickling with goosebumps. Oh, I was in trouble all right. The kind of trouble a good girl had no business inviting.

The suite was unlike anything I'd ever seen—a palatial sprawl of crushed velvet and gleaming marble, dotted with larger-than-life portraits of religious iconography and pastorals. The irony of a bible placed in full view on a sideboard was not lost on my in the face of such decadence. Every bit of the place screamed “decorated by a rock star.” It was like stepping into a shrine to all the things Elvis loved. And the man himself was holding court right in the center of it all.

Elvis reclined on a throne-like armchair, looking every inch the royal in tight black slacks and a shimmering silk shirt unbuttoned to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of tanned chest, gleaming gold pendant trapped in a thicket of black chest hair. I gulped. A tumbler of amber liquid dangled from his elegant fingers as he nodded along to something a stunning blonde was cooing in his ear, her ample curves poured into a dress so short it was practically indecent.

I suddenly felt very small and very out of place, a sparrow amongst preening peacocks. What was a nobody like me doing in a place like this, rubbing elbows with music royalty? I didn't belong here. I was just about to mumble my excuses and bolt when another bombshell sidled up to Elvis, this one a sultry brunette with bedroom eyes and a dress slit up to there. With detached amusement, I decided to name her Colette. Colette the Brunette. 

"Oh Elvis," she purred, trailing a perfectly manicured nail down his chest. "Won't you take me for a ride on your big... Cadillac later?"

I wanted to gag at her obviousness, but Elvis just chuckled indulgently. Like an emperor amused by his concubines.

"We'll see, darlin'. We'll see," he drawled, shooting her a wink that had her practically panting. 

I tore my gaze away, my cheeks burning. Get a grip, Valerie, he's clearly in high demand. Time to face facts and get out while you have a shred of dignity left. 

I was about to do that when a raspy voice caught my attention. "Hey there, little lady. You look like you could use a drink."

I turned to find a member of Elvis's Memphis Mafia grinning at me, a drink extended in offering. He had a friendly face, all dimples, and I found myself taking it just to have something to do with my hands.

"Uh, thanks," I mumbled, taking a fortifying sip. Whoo boy, that packed a punch. "I'm Valerie."

"Sonny West," he introduced himself with a wink. "Couldn't help but notice you looking a little lost over here. First time in the lion's den?"

"That obvious, huh?" I cracked a rueful smile. "I feel like a kid playing dress-up at the grown-ups' party."

Sonny chuckled, clapping me on the shoulder with a hand the size of a dinner plate. "Stick with me, then. I'll show you the ropes."

And just like that, I found myself swept up in the whirlwind of Elvis's inner circle. Sonny introduced me to the rest of the Memphis Mafia—Jerry, Lamar, and on and on until my head was spinning with names and faces. They were a rowdy bunch, all loud laughter and inside jokes, but they welcomed me heartily.

Before I knew it, I was deep in a heated debate with Lamar about the merits of biscuits versus pancakes for breakfast.

"Biscuits, hands down," I argued, waving my drink for emphasis. "Fluffy, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth heaven. Pancakes are just flat, boring discs."

"Blasphemy!" Lamar clutched his heart in mock outrage. His ample gut wiggled from the sudden movement. "Pancakes are the pinnacle of breakfast perfection. Stackable, customizable, drenched in syrup...what more could you want?"

"Y'all are both wrong," Jerry chimed in with a sly grin. "Waffles are where it's at. All those perfect little syrup traps? Unbeatable."

We dissolved into bickering, and I found myself having more fun than I'd had in ages. These boys were a hoot, and their easy camaraderie was infectious. For a little while, I could almost forget I was way out of my depth.

But reality came crashing back in the form of Elvis's chuckle cutting through the chatter. I looked over to see him still holding court, the blonde I named Miss Priss on one knee, Colette the Brunette draped over the other. They fawned all over him, batting lashes, and he ate it up with that slow smile. Something bitter twisted in my gut.

I knocked back my drink in one painful swallow. What was I doing here? Elvis had more than enough adoring females—he didn't need some starry-eyed idiot mooning over him. It was time to cut my losses and bow out. At least I would have a hell of a juicy story to tell Deena when I got home. 

I was just about to make my excuses when the room hushed. I glanced up to find myself ensnared by devastating blue eyes. Elvis was coming right for me, his gaze hot and intent, and I felt pinned like a butterfly on a board.

"Valerie." Just my name, but the way he said it, all dark velvet and honeyed sin, made my knees turn to water. "C'mere, pretty girl. Let's you and me get better acquainted." Colette the Brunette sighed, exasperated, and got up from the chair.

I was moving before I even registered it, pulled in by the sheer magnetism of him. Miss Priss shot me poisonous glares as I approached, but Elvis never took his eyes off me. He crooked a finger, beckoning me closer, and I went as if in a trance, powerless to resist the siren song of his voice, his eyes, his everything. I’m fucked. 

"Hi," I breathed when I was finally standing before him, close enough to catch the spicy-sweet scent of his cologne mingling with the citrusy notes of his Brylcreem. God, he was even more breathtaking up close, all chiseled features and smoldering charisma.

"Hi yourself." Elvis smiled slow as he looked me over, his gaze lingering in all the right places. "You know, I was hoping I'd see you again."

I briefly wondered if he said that to every starstruck girl he encountered, but the intensity in his eyes made me want to believe it. Dangerous, Valerie. Remember the ring on his finger. Do not fall for those honeyed words and bedroom eyes.Easier said than done. 

He patted the space beside him. "Take a load off. Stay awhile."

I had a feeling he wasn't just talking about sitting. That look promised something far more intimate. A shiver traced my spine as I perched on the edge of the sofa, close but not touching.

"I don't usually do this," I blurted, my nerves getting the better of me. "Follow strange men to their suites. I'm not...that kind of girl."

Great, announce to everyone that you're out of your depth. Elvis would probably pat me on the head and send me on my way now.

But to my shock, his eyes softened with something almost like tenderness. "I know you're not, honey. Believe me, I know." He reached out, tucking a curl behind my ear with a gentleness that stole my breath.

I fought the urge to lean into his touch like a flower turning its face to the sun, desperate for more of that drugging warmth. "You don't even know me."

"Maybe not." Elvis's fingers drifted down, trailing along the racing pulse in my throat. "But I'd sure like to."

I'd been warned about men like him, all smooth words and smoldering eyes, tempting good girls to stray from the straight and narrow. But sitting there with his burning gaze consuming me whole, his fingertips branding my skin, I was powerless to resist the pull. Is this what I'd been missing this whole time?

I was Alice, tumbling headfirst down the rabbit hole. Pandora, unable to keep from opening that forbidden box. A fool blinded by stardust, sealing her fate with one trembling breath.

"I think," I whispered, damning myself with every word, "I'd like that too."

Elvis's smile was pure sin and satisfaction, a fallen angel getting exactly what he wanted. He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear and making me shiver.

"Then let's get to know each other real well, Valerie. I have a feeling you and me are gonna make some beautiful music together."

With that promise shimmering between us, Elvis took my hand and led me deeper into his lair. And I, god help me, followed, come what may.

He guided me through the throng, his hand warm around mine. I could feel the weight of curious stares following us. But Elvis paid them no mind, his attention fixed on me as he brought us to a gleaming black piano.

"You play?" he asked, eyes glinting with challenge and something softer.

I ran my fingers along the smooth keys. "A little. My dad taught me before he passed."

Elvis's gaze gentled, understanding passing between us. "Music's in your blood. Like me."

He slid onto the bench, patting the space beside him. I hesitated a moment before joining him, our thighs pressing together. Elvis shot me a grin, his fingers flying over the keys in a jaunty tune.

"You know 'Heart and Soul'?"

A laugh bubbled out of me. "Who doesn't?"

We began to play, our hands moving together, the notes weaving in harmony. Softly at first, barely audible under the chatter, Elvis began to sing, his voice honey-smooth.

"Heart and soul, I fell in love with you..."

He glanced at me expectantly, a playful smile at the corner of his mouth. How could I resist? Taking a breath, I joined my voice with his.

"Heart and soul, the way a fool would do..."

Our voices blended together seamlessly. I could feel the room hushing around us, all eyes drawn to the spectacle. But lost in the melody and Elvis's presence, I couldn't bring myself to care.

We continued, the lyrics taking on new meaning as our gazes locked and the air grew thick.

"Madly... Because you held me tight..."

Elvis's eyes burned into mine, his voice lowering intimately.

"And stole a kiss in the night..."

My heart stuttered and my fingers faltered. Lord, the way he looked at me, like he wanted to devour me whole...

Elvis turned to me, our hands stilling. For a suspended moment we just stared, caught in the gravity of this thing spiraling between us. I felt flayed open, exposed, like he could see straight into me.

Carefully, he lifted a hand to brush my cheek, his skin igniting sparks against mine. "Valerie," he murmured, my name a caress.

I couldn't breathe past the band constricting my chest. The world narrowed to just us, charged with possibility. Elvis's eyes dropped to my parted lips, a muscle ticking in his jaw. I could feel the force of his desire, the effort it took to hold back.

"Elvis," I whispered, leaning closer like a moth to flame. Damn the consequences.

Colette suddenly appeared at Elvis's other side, plunking her glass down on the piano. She placed a manicured hand on his arm and attempted to draw his attention.

"Elvis, baby, I'm parched. Won't you fix me a drink?" she cooed, batting her lashes.

For a second I thought he might actually take the bait. I wouldn't blame any man for it, really. But to my shock, Elvis just smiled politely and gently extricated himself from her grasp.

"Not right now, darlin'. I'm a bit busy at the moment," he said, shooting a meaningful look my way.

Colette's pretty face twisted in an ugly scowl as she glared daggers at me. If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under. But Elvis paid her no mind, already turning back to me with an apologetic quirk of his lips.

A thrill shot through me at the realization that he'd chosen my company over hers. That even surrounded by all these gorgeous, willing women, it was still me he wanted to talk to, to sing with. It was almost too heady to believe. 

Leaning closer as if conspiring, Elvis murmured so only I could hear, "I gotta say, you sure know how to captivate a man's attention, songbird. Ain't too many gals out there who can tear me away from a pretty face batting her lashes my way."

I could practically hear the steam coming out of Colette's ears as she flounced off in a huff. I bit back a smile. "Well, what can I say? I have many hidden talents."

"That you do. That you most certainly do." Elvis's eyes smoldered as they raked over me appreciatively. "Now where were we?"

We picked up right where we'd left off, fingers dancing over the keys in tandem as we slipped back into the easy flow of the music. And just like that, as if no interruption had occurred, we were once again lost in our own private world, the chemistry between us crackling and undeniable.

As Elvis and I continued to play, lost in our own little world, I suddenly caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. Glancing over, I spotted Red and Sonny, engaged in what appeared to be a heated argument.

Sonny was gesticulating wildly, his drink sloshing precariously in his hand, while Red stood with his arms crossed, shaking his head emphatically. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but their body language screamed "agitated."

I nudged Elvis gently with my elbow, nodding towards the pair. "Looks like trouble in paradise over there. What do you think they're arguing about?"

Elvis followed my gaze, a slow grin spreading over his face as he took in the scene. "Knowing those two? Could be anything. Whose turn it is to do the hamburger run, which one of 'em Nancy Sinatra liked best, who'd win in a fight between Godzilla and King Kong..."

I bit back a laugh. "My money's on Godzilla. Fire breath beats brute strength any day."

"See, I'd have to go with Kong," Elvis countered, his eyes sparkling. "He's got those opposable thumbs, that's a game changer."

We both turned back to watch Red and Sonny, who were now poking each other in the chest like a couple of overgrown schoolboys. Elvis leaned in close, his breath tickling my ear as he lowered his voice conspiratorially.

"Five bucks says Sonny throws his drink in the next minute."

I grinned, unable to resist the challenge in his tone. "You're on. I say Red puts him in a headlock first."

We shook on it, our hands lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary. Then we sat in eager anticipation, watching the drama unfold.

Suddenly, in a move straight out of a slapstick comedy, Sonny gestured so emphatically that his drink went flying... right into Red's face.

For a moment, everyone froze. Then Red let out a roar and lunged, grappling Sonny into a headlock as he flailed and sputtered.

Elvis and I took one look at each other and burst into hysterical laughter, clutching at each other as we gasped for breath. Tears streamed down my face as we hooted at the ridiculous scene, our shared mirth drawing curious glances from the rest of the party.

"I guess... we both win... that bet," Elvis managed to wheeze out between guffaws, his arm warm and solid around my shaking shoulders. 

A throat clearing sharply behind us shattered the moment, sending us reeling apart like repelling magnets. I blinked dazedly, surfacing from the undertow of Elvis's gaze to find Lamar smirking down at us.

"Hate to interrupt you two, but the natives are getting restless." He jerked his head toward the crowd of partygoers, all watching us with avid, speculative eyes. "Big Man’s here, E." Kirk Kerkorian, the owner of the International Hotel, had made it up to the 29th floor to speak to his star headliner.

Elvis dragged a hand down his face, looking distinctly frustrated. "Duty calls, I suppose." He shot me an apologetic glance, his fingers giving mine a fleeting squeeze before he stood. "Don't go anywhere, alright? I'm not done with you yet."

A shiver chased through me at the dark promise in his tone. I could only nod wordlessly, my voice lodged somewhere in my throat, as he allowed himself to be pulled back into the fray. 

I watched him work the room, all megawatt charisma and effortless star power. He was a master showman, born for the spotlight. At a certain point, a group of older women were let in and he graciously signed all of their memorabilia. But every so often, his gaze would cut back to me, heated and heavy with intent. A reminder that I was the true focus of his attention, even as he played to his adoring acolytes.

Overwhelmed and more than a little shaken by the intensity of our connection, I decided to take Elvis's absence as my cue to slip away. I needed some space to clear my head, to process the dizzying events of the night away from the intoxicating force of his presence.

As much as I wanted to stay, I knew this could turn out to be a very bad idea. Elvis Presley was about to ruin me. If I let myself fall any deeper under his spell, I might not be able to find my way back out. And with my heart and dreams on the line, that was a risk I couldn't afford to take.

So with a heavy heart and a longing glance over my shoulder, I quietly extracted myself from his view and made my way back to my room. I'd pack my bags, get some much-needed rest, and then pour my heart out to Deena once I was safely back home, far away from the magnetic pull of Elvis's charm. If nothing else, the past two days' events would make a hell of a story.

It was the smart choice, the safe choice. But as I walked away, each step heavy with regret, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was leaving something precious behind. A chance at something rare and wonderful, slipping like stardust through my fingers.

Keeping to the edges of the room, I managed to exit the suite without drawing attention to myself. The relative silence of the hotel hallway was a balm to my frayed nerves as I made my way to my own room. My hands were trembling as I fumbled with the key, my mind awhirl with Elvis's heated looks and the phantom sensation of his touch on my skin.

I'd barely gotten the door open when I heard hurried footsteps behind me. Heart leaping into my throat, I whirled around. Only to come face to face with Joe Esposito, Elvis's right hand man.

"Valerie, wait!" He jogged up to me, slightly out of breath, his hand outstretched. "Boss man wanted me to give you this before you disappeared."

He pressed a small slip of paper into my palm. Glancing down, I saw it was a ticket… to Elvis's show tomorrow night. Front row seat, VIP access. I looked back up at Joe, startled.

He grinned knowingly. "Elvis requests the pleasure of your company tomorrow evening. He'd like you to be in one of his private booths."

I gaped at him, stunned speechless. An exclusive invitation to the Presley show, the hottest ticket in town? To watch from one of his personal booths? It was an honor bestowed on only his most inner circle...certainly not on some starstruck nobody he'd just met.

"I...wow. I don't know what to say," I stammered, clutching the ticket like a lifeline.

Joe chuckled. "You don't gotta say nothing, sweetheart. Just show up and knock his socks off like you did tonight." He gave me a friendly wink. "Wear something pretty. Elvis likes his girls dolled up nice."

With that bomb dropped, he turned on his heel and sauntered off, leaving me gaping after him. I looked back down at the ticket, running my thumb over the embossed lettering. 

Elvis Presley, larger than life and twice as magnetic, wanted me in his booth tomorrow. Wanted to see me again. It was the stuff of dreams and fairy tales, the kind of thing that didn't happen to girls like me. And yet... Squaring my shoulders, I tucked the ticket carefully into my purse and slipped into my room. As I began my nightly ablutions, I couldn't stop the giddy smile from spreading across my face. How foolish and naive of me. But also, how very curious.

Ready or not, I had tickets tomorrow. I had to extend my stay, if for nothing but to see what all the fuss was about. And come hell or high water… I was going to knock his socks off, just like Joe said. But before I could do that, there was the matter of having nothing beautiful to wear...

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[keen-li]

CLAWED | JJK | CH 02

Synopsis: "do you honestly think I want your help? I'm desperate " you can still see the hatred he has for you in his eyes, but you can also see the desperation.

Genre: e2l, angst, fluff, smut-ish. Convict jk x police officer reader

Fem reader x jk

Warnings: cussing.

______________________

Last night you let jungkook, you even hate saying his name, into your house. You despised him but you weren't that soulless.

"How long are you staying here for?" you ask avoiding the eyes of the man walking around in your robe after you let him shower in your bathroom.

"4 days maybe" maybe?? He says prancing around your house and going through your fridge like a raccoon. He's definitely gotten comfortable very quickly.

"Damn, you don't have food in your fridge" he rummages through your cupboards now.

"I didn't think you'd take my 'stop eating' jokes serious"

Jokes, you chuckle not amused by that.

"Please stop going through my house" you say sternly.

He rejoices when he finds the packet of ramen you you didn't even know existed. You hope it's expired as you see him start to prepare them. You hate how he always tries to make things about him or how he feels entitled to everything, it doesn't surprise you though it's always been this way. Hes always been like this, towards you atleast.

When you were in the Police Academy together and you'd get praised he'd always find a way to make you feel invalid. He'd always hide behind saying it's a joke but you definitely knew that those weren't jokes.

"What happened to you" you say pointing at his bruises and cuts. Your tone is more of a I don't care but I just wanna know type.

"Bar fight" he says too quickly to be the truth, you try to analyze his face. You're not sure if he's being honest but his coming here seems a bit off to you but don't want to question him just yet.

"But what are you doing here, haven't seen you in a while you just appear at my door in the middle of the night while it's raining." You decide to finally ask after a while.

"So you missed me?" He smirks and you roll your eyes at him. Where in your sentence did he get that from. The thought of missing him disgusts you.

"I never said that, you're changing the topic" you cross your arms over your chest trying not to feel intimidated by his god-like build.

"I can't tell you why I'm here but just know I'll be out in 4 days"

______________________________

"We haven't seen you in a while so we came to visit you" your friend Soni says after you ask what she and jinsyu, your other friend, are doing here. You didn't expect them to come over but it makes sense since you told them you had a free day today. But you still wish they had called. So you could hide jungkook.

"We were worried about you" jinsyu says as they walk into your home behind you.

It's their first time being in your house, so they look around in amusement. "oooh this is a really cute place" jinsyu says touching everything she sees.

You're place is nothing fancy, in your opinion it's kinda dull and boring cause of its multiple use of whites, nudes and greys. But you kinda liked it like this, simple and modern.

"Can we go upstairs" Soni says already rushing upstairs and jinsyu following behind her. You didn't even have a chance to give them permission, you didn't mind though. You follow behind them to keep them in check. It's almost like you're the mother of these two.

You don't know where jungkook is and the last thing you want is for your friends to see him. You know that if they see him they'll never let you hear the end of it. They would start calling him your lil'boyfriend when the last thing you want is jungkook as your boyfriend.

Your friends didn't know jungkook, cause you met him whilst training. Soni is a creative director at some fashion store while jinsyu is a training Doctor.

You follow behind them and watch them as they look around your bedroom. You lose focus on jinsyu and she sneaks into your bathroom. You're focused on something else when you hear jinsyu.

"What are these" you hear her exclaim. So you and Soni follow where she is. Immediately you catch sight of what jinsyu is exclaiming about.

And laying there on top of your laundry basket is a pair of grey boxers with Calvin klein on the band, jungkook's boxers.

You immediately rush over to flip the lid of the basket and drop them inside without touching them. You can feel Jinsyu and Soni's eyes on you . And their cheeky and mocking grins too.

"It's not what yo-" you begin when you're interrupted by your friend's squeals.

"Y/n, why didn't you tell us you're seeing someone." soni says smiling from ear to ear.

"That's cause I'm not" you defend yourself.

"Lies" jinsyu follows up.

Your friends barely see you with guys, so they get really excited by the mere thought of you being in a relationship or even talking to a guy.

"I think we should go downstairs now" you say dragging them out of the bathroom ignoring all their little comments and nags.

This makes everything more stressful for you because you don't know where jungkook is. You really don't want your friends to see. You hope he's fallen into a ditch or something wherever he is.

You walk downstairs not noticing the shirtless man in black shorts in the kitchen making himself a sandwich.

"Oh" you hear your friends say and pull your eyes to what's got there attention.

"Is that him" soni says grining widely at jungkook, his muscles contract and relax as he chops up the cucumber. He seems so focused on such a simple job. You're friends watch intensely almost drooling at the mouth.

"Where the heck were you?" You ask hushed approaching jungkook.

Jungkook ignores you and looks over at your friends who walk into the kitchen behind you watching you two interact.

" you should have told me your friends were coming over I would have put on a shirt" he says jokingly but not really talking to you. You know that even if he knew he'd still not wear a shirt.

"That's not-that's not a problem" Soni says and jinsyu bumps her with her elbow.

"you have a boyfriend" jinsyu whispers to Soni and she shrugs her away.

"not one built like that."

"So you're the one keeping y/n from us?" Jinsyu says while soni still drools over jungkook. Her tone is very playful.

"You two are like dating?" Soni says finally out of her trance.

"NO" You and jungkook say like it's the worst thing that could happen in the world.

"He'll no, but she wishes that though." He turns to are you mocking you with an eyebrow raise as he finishes making his sandwich.

"Fuck off, i'd rather die" your eyes are still locked into each other as you say this, he smirks at you probably mockingly. Definitely mocking you.

"I'll leave you ladies alone now" he picks up his plate and eyeing you one more time leaves. Your friends eye him as he leaves to go back outside.

You hated when he stared at you like that it always made you feel small and tiny.

_______________________________

For the past 3 days jungkook has been sleeping on your couch. Your house did have a spare bedroom but it wasn't furnished because you never expected to have visitors, you moved in recently.

"I'd appreciate it if you got off my bed" jungkook says to you who's seated on the couch watching your show.

"I wanna sleep" he adds as he throws the pillow and blanket you gave to him on the couch.

"In my house?" You state reminding him who the house belongs to.

He stands there just watching you as you ignore him for your show.

"Why didn't you run to your own house" you mumble with no care in the world as you rest your head against your palm.

"Last time I remember you had a house when you worked at the station." You continue to spit out like the words are fire on your tongue.

Your comment causes jungkook's jaw to clench and smile to drop. You don't notice but his body and muscles tense up thinking about what you just said.

You slowly turn your head to look at a tensed up and uneasy looking jungkook. It was a blow to the gut you suppose, and that causes you to smile at him happy you could cause him such discomfort.

The jungkook you know would have spit out a comeback seconds after your comment. You begin to feel a little bad due to the way he seems to linger on your comment and the silence that consumes you.

You want to speak but he speaks before you "I lost the house"

You don't know how he lost it so you don't conclude on how to feel but that doesn't stop you from feeling kinda bad. When did this happen? For how long?.

For a moment you forget the jungkook that used to always have something to say about you as his character falters.

Your thoughts are brought to a halt as you hear a knock at your door. You get up quickly to answer the door and to avoid the tension in the room.

Jungkook doesn't bother going to the door, it's your house isn't it. But you notice the worried look on his face when he hears the knock on the door he almost looks like a deer caught in headlights.

When you open the door you see the familiar face of your neighbor, yoongi, his long dark hair up in a man bun. He wore his hair like this often when he got back from work or when he's chilling at home.

You hate to say it but you're noticed this when he takes out his trash and you see him through your window, like a creep. It honestly became a habit to wait for him to take out his trash and watch his shiny black hair bounce in its bun and the loose strands brush against the back of his neck.

One day as you were carrying out your usual, he turns to face your window and it felt like you made eye contact. But you doubt that he saw you. Maybe he saw your curtain move. If he did see you he sure thinks you're a creep but by the way he greets you sometimes you doubt he saw you, or maybe he doesn't mind that you're watching him. Maybe it flatters him.

"Oh hi yoongi. What are you doing here?" You ask fiddling with the zipper of your jersey as you look at yoongi, he's in his usual 'I'm at home look'. A black T-shirt and navy blue shorts which off his smooth and pale legs.

He stands with the box of brownies in his hands.

He reciprocates the greeting and adjusts the box in his hands.

"I brought you this box of brownies I made" he stretches the box and you gladly take it analyzing the box cautiously and happily.

"I've been trying to bake a needed a woman's opinion"

He's confident and clear as he says this not faltering one bit, yoongi's aura always makes you feel somewhat vulnerable and relaxed like you could just let go and be yourself. He still had you on your toes though.

You've only had two serious interactions with yoongi and the rest were just hellos. But from those interactions you've come to the conclusion of how yoongi would be as a boyfriend.

You hum "I'll definitely try them and let-"

The sound of a plate falling gets you and yoongi's attention and shortly afterwards a small 'sorry' follows.

Even if it's small and soft yoongi can definitely notice that it's a man's voice. You slap yourself mentally as yoongi turns to look at you.

"Didn't know you had someone over" he chuckles not intimidated one bit and not trying to interrogate or make you feel bad about it.

"it's just a friend" you release a nervous laugh and yoongi simply notes not pressing it any longer.

"Anyways thanks for bringing these over I'll let you know what I think of them after I've had them."

"Alright I'll be waiting" yoongi says still wondering about the man in your house.

You share your goodbyes and you stand there watching yoongi walk away. You try and collect your thoughts before you go in there and cuss jungkook out.

__________________________

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[cherrykamado]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 — 𝐂𝐇.𝟎𝟒

previous. | next. | masterlist.

☆ pairing: yandere kamado tanjiro x reader.

☆ summary: Tanjiro and Y/N meet "gentler" demons, but Y/N can't help but distrust them. Tanjiro will gain an insight into Y/N's past to understand, empathize and add her pain to his reasons to bring down the Demon Lord, Kibutsuji Muzan.

☆ warnings (general): yandere themes, toxicity, gore, manipulation, smut, delusional thoughts, unhealthy relationships. All characters are aged up.

☆ warnings (as for ch. 04): violence, unhealthy love perspective, idolization (story is told from tanjiro's perspective.), traumatic past allusion (gore, death).

☆ notice: minors / ageless blogs do not interact.

☆ comments: yearly update!! i'll try to be more consistent but inspiration suddenly came in and i sat down to finish it hehe. one day it came back (again)! thank you for the infinite patience and all the support throughout the years!

A blink of his eyes and Tanjiro is encountered with a different kind of scene: flowers swirling around him, as if covering him from the outside crowd. He looks around but he can’t find you. Where are you? What’s all of this?

“You use the term person to refer to one that has turned into a demon.” 

His head snaps to the direction of the source; as his nostrils become full of that smell he has grown to hate so much. Her smell, she’s a… That’s right, she is a demon — she brings her now healed forearm to her chest— but she’s also a doctor.  

“I also wish to see that man, Kibutsuji Muzan, obliterated.” She resumes, and now he’s gained his full attention. 

Her statement causes his eyes to widen, orbs tinted with shock. His gaze shortly flickers between the face of the mysterious woman and her hands, where nails, sharp as claws, elongate and fade into a darker color. Underneath them, the torn skin, once bleeding, quickly closes up and heals, as it though it has never been torn in the first place. Unbelievably so, the dichotomy is evident, confusion reigning. Good demons? Tanjiro asks himself.

 Is there even such a thing? 

“W-wait, Tanjiro!”

Your voice makes him turn immediately towards you, his gaze tinged with concern as he notices the shakiness in your voice. He can sense it, your scent tainted with fear. He knows just how much you do not trust demons.

 “You’re… Y-You’re not really thinking—”

“I assure you, neither me nor Yushiro mean harm. In fact, we want nothing more than to help.” Tamayo clarifies. 

As he sees your gaze averting from his, there’s a bit of hesitance. As much as he wants to take your side, he believes she is telling the truth. Taking your hand in both of his own, he causes you to bring those gorgeous eyes of yours back onto his. 

“It’s okay.” He softly says, burgundy eyes showing nothing but determination, as he then points to his nose. “I haven’t picked any scent of dishonesty from them yet.”

Yet — the emphasis in such a word that leaves the implicit more than explicit; given the premise becoming a reality, that if anyone were to turn against them, he swears, with just one look, that he will protect you no matter what. 

Remembering Nezuko’s back at the Udon store, you both return to see her. In the way, so uncomfortably silent, Tanjiro is obviously stealing glances at your form. Your sweet scent is mixed. He notices how you’re trying to hold your hands together in an attempt to make them stop shaking but it’s pointless. 

“[Name]?” He calls, but he doesn’t get to see your lovely face, fully looking at him. He decides to tend a hand to you and so it caresses your angelically soft skin. Only then  does he notice that, just as soft as it is, your skin is humid too.

Whatever could have been so tormentuous, that your lovely face is contorted that way? In a way that makes Tanjiro wish he could just brush it off, and in return see your smile once again. Whoever is the one responsible for that alienating fear you are showing so overtly? 

“ [Name]...” Tanjiro decides to try once again. “It’s alright… I’m here. You can tell me anything, you know?”  He adds,  in a nervous attempt to console you, to let you know that he is here for you. That you can confide to him anything that is discomforting you so much.

He watches how your eyes blink your tears away, and how your teeth hurt your lip in an attempt to get that fear in control. Yet, how little does this do, as he watches you shake like a fallen angel, who’s lost its way back to heaven. 

“I-it’s just… Why did you have to do such a thing?” 

“Why… did I do w-what?” 

“That man— H-he’s monstrous… He’s… h-he’s the w-worst…” He notes how your start to stammer, but his heart has already begun racing as he noticed how your eyes, pleading humid eyes, reciprocate his gaze. From your lips come the words that would fuel Tanjiro’s infatuation more than ever, making it feel as though his heart was doing backflips inside his ribcage:

“What if he hurt you? He’s way too strong! I’ve seen what…” 

In his mind, only the question lingered and repeated, just as if there was a parrot inside his mind, mimicking your voice, mimicking… your worry towards him. 

So, you care. 

“I-I see… I promise I’ll be more careful next time.” He smiles at you, trying to conceal his inner turmoil by bringing you the reassurance you need. However, amidst all this, there is an important question that arises: 

Why are you so afraid of Kibutsuji Muzan? What happened between you and him? 

What did he dare do to you, thought a darker voice at the back of Tanjiro’s mind. 

“Did you already know him?” His thumbs ever so delicately brush away your tears. “Kibutsuji Muzan, I mean.”

And what came from your mouth… Tanjiro swears that he could feel a ripping void inside of him. 

His burgundy eyes widened tremendously as he heard his angel tell him about the hell she had gone through. Had his gear been a person’s wrist, for sure he would have broken it. It hurt him especially so that it was you who had to witness such a scene, the brutal murder of your loved ones. The magnitude of a trauma that made you pass out right then, only for his face to have been the last thing you saw. Only for the first thing to feel, smell, and afterwards see, to be the pool of the blood of your loved ones. 

But he snaps out of it, and goes back to you when he notices your upset expression, and it tugs at his heart. He notices how you squeeze your hands, and how your lips are still quivering, how your beautiful eyes are yet once again shedding tears of despair. The anxiety, the fear coming from you is insane in amount.

“I…I’m very sorry. I— couldn’t think.” He confesses, “That smell… That—”

A flashback comes to him the moment he closes his eyes. No, he doesn’t want to remember. Not now. He doesn’t want to face those memories now. 

You seem to notice this, and you’re quick to apologize. You seem to get it, more or less. He promises to himself that he’ll tell you one day, but he’s not ready. The way his expression had changed must have warned you. 

“T-that man…” You mumble out, between hiccups. “I wish… I wish for him to go down like the m-monster he is.” 

Tanjiro knows this very well. But he wants to push all those thoughts away, he doesn’t want hatred to get to him. He has to think about you, his beloved, who’s suffering right now. Something in him tells him to think about you, and to comfort you in some way. 

He doesn’t think much when his offer rolls off his tongue, yet his hand is shyly reaching out for yours. 

“Y-You can hold my hand if you want…” He risks.

And when you take it! oh, to feel such delicate fingers, intertwined with his once again. Your gentleness, holding him, how your soft skin brushes against the hardness of his rough palms; it’s like small pangs running from his hand to his heart, which skips a beat, and makes his cheeks heat up. 

A small smile then escapes his lips, and his gaze softens on you, whose gaze is fixed on the road ahead, the small udon store already showing up, as well as nezuko’s pink kimono. 

All bad feelings and thoughts vanish from his head, and the once turbulent river in his heart starts to slowly calm down. The effect you have on him, he can’t tell. The only thing he knows is that he’s so fond of it. So fond of you . 

Tanjiro has just faced one of his worst and biggest fears, and almost got killed because of that. But then you appeared, you saved him, and you comforted him. This is the least he can do for you.

Don’t worry, [Name]… he thinks to himself, but his gaze on you, thinking as if he was talking to you; this silent promise, another oath. As long as I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to you.

That is the oath he swore to himself from that very same night.

“Uhm...Tanjiro?” 

Your voice is the one that snaps him back to reality. Releasing his hand gently, almost politely, you wipe the sweat off your palm; the redhead hasn’t noticed that it was his sweat until you point it out for him. Embarrassment sneaks into plain view and coats his cheeks with a dust of pink; immediately, he’s wiping the sweat off his palms furiously against his haori, cursing himself in his mind. 

Gaze turning at a muffled voice he knows so well, he’s greeted by the innocent look of his beloved sister, Nezuko. Tanjiro smiles, and offers her an apology. 

“I’m sorry for leaving you here, Nezuko…”

“Actually!” You interrupt, in your usual cheerful voice, “It’s me who should be sorry… I shouldn’t have left her like that! But when you ran away, I-I freaked out! So I asked Mr. Toyo to look after her in the meantime.”

You did that? For him?

His breath is shaking, and his heart is pounding in his ears. 

You ran… after him. 

“T-thank you very much!” is all that he can say; his voice comes out loud, unintentionally, but he couldn’t help it. 

And your smile… That cute smile you send him, while scratching the back of your neck. That giggle that jingles from your lips, dances into his ears to travel down toward his chest, and shakes the core of his heart.  Why you are so cute is a question that doesn’t cross his mind at the moment. At this point, he has stopped asking himself questions; he allows himself to feel it, because you are warm, because you are light. Because you remind him of something so precious to him. 

Even though it has only been a few encounters since he properly met you, Tanjiro doesn’t think about whether this isn’t going too fast. Oh no, that’s another question he won’t ask himself. Time doesn’t matter to him; He feels he’s known you, because he feels he can trust you entirely. He trusted you with his little sister, and you had made the right call. You had rushed to his aid — you protected him.

You’re an angel. A guardian angel. You’ve been sent to him. And, oh, does he want to give everything to you. 

At that moment, he can’t help but to feel how his expression softens, how another smile escapes him. You have developed the ability to steal the most sincere smiles from him, it is contagious.

Your stomach growling brings your giggles to a stop, and Tanjiro can’t help but to puff his cheeks at how cute you are when you look embarrassed.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, smiling, to which you burst out laughing in pure embarrassment. 

“A-A little bit...S-sorry!” You answer, your eyes looking glossy from all the laughing. Tanjiro could hear your laugh for hours, if it was up to him. 

“Now listen to me, you! This isn’t about the money” The owner of the udon store, Toyo, beams all of the sudden. Storming at the redhead, the man looks so outraged, but only takes it out on him, not on you. 

“I can’t forgive what you did!! Not even wanting to try my udon!” 

“I-I’m so sorry—” Tanjiro’s body stiffens, “P-please serve us another bowl!” 

“So, you gonna eat?”

“Y-yes!” Tanjiro retorts, and you echo with a nod.

“You’d better eat this time!”

“Y-yes!”

You and tanjiro eat up all the bowls; Tanjiro had to make up for the portion Nezuko didn’t eat, devouring bowl after bowl, insanely fast. Once he finishes, his red wine gaze looks at you, so lost in a world of your own, slurping on your own noodles with a bright smile on your face, delighted noises coming from you as you eat up.

“Is it good?” 

You nod frantically, noodles still in your mouth. Can you get any cuter? He would buy you as many bowls as you’d want, no matter how hungry he can be, only to see you smile. 

Just the moment when you’re finishing your plate, Nezuko’s growl brings his attention to a tree. The scent of a demon hits his nostrils; the moment he turns his gaze, however, he meets the demon that was standing next to the woman who defended him and you from the policemen. 

It’s then that his intentions are revealed: reluctantly, you follow them to a house hidden behind a dead end, in which you not only meet the doctor demon again, but also one of the victim’s from Muzan’s attack. 

Hopefully, she was alive, being treated by her. Lady Tamayo, as you both learned her name was, was treating the victim’s injuries. She is asleep, but she is going to get well soon. 

“Isn’t it difficult for you to treat human’s wounds?”

Tamayo’s partner, Yushiro, doesn’t like Tanjiro at all. At least, that’s what he shows. Tanjiro doesn’t understand why, but he’s received a hit to his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. 

“You think that we’ll treat humans while choking on our drool at the smell of their blood, just because we’re demons?” Yushiro hisses, and Tanjiro immediately regrets having misjudged them. 

He doesn’t notice how you hesitantly have stepped right ahead, standing near tamayo. Not so close, but not so far, still loud enough for her to hear what you were saying. 

“Will she… Will she be alright?” He hears you ask, making him stop fighting with Yushiro, looking at you with curious burgundy eyes. 

Tanjiro’s cheeks feel warm, seeing you so concerned for the woman. 

“Yes,” The demon doctor answers, “Although it is her husband who is in a worse shape than her. We had to lock him down in the basement,” 

Tanjiro’s eyes squint in sorrow, seeing how awful it would be. To be hurt by Muzan, to be stripped of humanity, to be a demon. To betray what you once had known and loved, and to hurt what is most precious to oneself. 

Thinking about the word precious makes Tanjiro’s eyes travel to you. His mind also resorts to his little sister, but his sight, the windows of his heart, of his soul, are fixed on you. The way you look in concern, how your expression is turned into one of sorrow and hurt. Would you be feeling that too? Are you thinking the same? Who might you be thinking about? Is it about him, or is it about someone else?

The sole action of considering there could be someone else in your life is something Tanjiro couldn’t bear with. So, he is optimistic. It’s him you’re thinking about. Your family maybe? 

Please, say something. Please, he longs that your heart has a little place reserved for him. 

“How sad…” Words roll off your tongue and dance into his ears.  It’s then than the blueish scent —if he could see that, he thinks that scent would most certainly it would be blue-ish, mixed with the amber color of your usual, enticing honey scent— 

And his heart clenches. It is really sad to be like that. 

His heart clenches. He would never forgive Muzan. 

His heart clenches. He will protect you from everything. 

His heart flutters. You’re looking at him. 

“Tanjiro…” You start, and his sight travels down to your extended fist, held out towards him.

“Promise me we will kill him no matter what.” 

He didn’t need to feel your scent to know you’re upset. Angry, beyond mad, to say the least. It’s shown in the way your fist is clenched, knuckles white from the pressure; it’s in the glint of your once cheerful eyes. 

His fist gently connects with yours, a silent nod is his response.

But when he meets your gaze again, he notices that your eyes... they do not only hold anger. They hold determination . 

And that smile confirms it. 

“I promise I will do everything I can to help you turn Nezuko back into a human.” You pledge to him, stealing his breath away.

His cheeks heating up, glossy burgundy orbs pointlessly blink back tears, tears that stream down his cheeks. He’s not oblivious at how you’re looking at him, in concern, as if you have said something wrong. But he’s feeling all the opposite: it’s joy, it’s happiness. Knowing that you got him, that you understand him . That you understand his pain. 

As if your soul and his have been forged with the same material. You and him were the same — you were one. Either that, or you had been splitted into two parts of the same soul when you were created. It just had to be true. 

Arms wrap around you and don’t let you go; for the first time, they feel your warmth and, god, he loves it.  You feel like something he hasn’t felt in a while. Even if he can’t put his finger on it, it feels pleasant, it makes his heart flutter, and it brings every single inch of his self bliss. Tanjiro feels reassured, Tanjiro feels… 

“Thank you—” He sobs, breathless, while nuzzling his head in the crook of his neck, “You don’t know how much this means to me…” 

And it feels like heaven when you wrap your arms around him, enclosing him full in your loving embrace, in your kind warmth. How you gently pat his head, as he gradually calms down. He doesn’t care that everyone’s looking —they can look all they want, because Tanjiro’s never been afraid to show himself as a sensitive human being. He’s not afraid to show himself at his rawest before you. 

Embraces are always bittersweet: when you unwrap his arms, certain that he’s calmed down, there’s nothing more that he wants than being held by you again. 

But your kind gaze just does, the lovingness of your touch as you brush his tears away is reassuring enough, the nod you give him while your smile shows itself before him again is enough. 

He promises —again— himself that he will always protect you. Just as much as you want to protect his little sister.

Just as much as you want to protect him.  

Because you’re out of this world. Because you’re an angel in disguise. 

And to have an angel like you in his life… 

He shakes his head, seeing things really as they are — he’s finally found it. His angel.

The very same angel that has faith in him.

CHERRYKAMADO/JCTARO © 2024 — all rights reserved. do not repost or recommend on any platform. plagiarism will not be tolerated. visuals belong to me.

[astyrial]

sleuthing spider - 🕷️ ch. 6 - fisk’s bodyguards

    "you know what- fine, just get me down to the side of the building. i'll try to get into the limo," a soft wind pushes against your face, eyes rolling as you look away from the mother spider.

  his gaze follows over to you and back at the building, wondering if you were telling the truth or pulling a fast one on him. some moments feel like the two of you were closer than most people could ever be. while other moments lose the quick spark and bring the two of you back to the beginning. like he can't tell if you're lying or telling the truth. if you're working together or simply along parallel decisions.

  spiderman shifts his weight towards you, gloved hand resting against the edge of the roof. the goggles on his mask narrow until there's a thin, white line. you look back at him and raise your eyebrows, "just take me down there before i shout fisk's name right now."

  "oh yeah, such a professional move from a private investigator."

  the two of you stand up, your arms immediately finding spots above his shoulders and around his neck. his hand feels for the small of your back so that he can pull you a little closer. you look away from him as you feel heat raise up into your cheeks. however, the cool wind helps you refocus on the matter at hand as he swings across the street. 

  even the short trip across the street spikes your adrenaline. pigeons flying nearby remind you of your position stories above the ground. you close your eyes for a moment until you can feel the two of you stop. 

  he lands on the fire escape and grabs some webbing from a small gadget on his wrist. without much effort, he wraps it around your wrist and lowers you to the ground. your eyes glance upward to find him looking around. when your shoes touch the ground, your gaze immediately finds a propped open side door, a small stopper between the door and frame.

  "good luck," you look up, giving spiderman a two-fingered wave, and waiting for him to disappear onto the roof.

  as soon as he disappears around the corner, you take off towards the door. the alleyway between the two buildings sends shivers up your spine from the eerie scenery. a few trash cans add darker shadows than the building blocking the sun. images of fisk taking out another enemy of his in this very alleyway flash across your mind. even if it's never happened here, you know it's happened somewhere.

  you wrap your fingers around the door handle, looking around before opening the door and sneaking in. the first door is for a therapist's office. the next one seems to be a clinic of sorts, the two taking up most of the first floor from what you can see. when you finally gaze upon the end of the hall, there's a set of elevators leading to the top floors.

  a guard stands by the elevators, clearly showing that fisk is upstairs. you straighten your back as best you can and find a small map of the floors, a physical therapist at the top of the building. every nerve ending in your body feels as though it's on fire, your heart racing even further.

  "ma'am, do you need something?" 

  the large bodyguard questions as you stand back from the sign, turning to the large set of stairs. his shoulders are wide, suit ironed with shiny shoes that are clearly paid for with fisk's blood money. you take in a breath and nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

  "yes, is dr. wilson's office still on the top floor?"

  "it is, however, you can't be going upstairs right now. there's some construction and work on the floors between."

  you nod, bringing your hand up to your shoulder. "right, sorry, do you think there can be an exception? my shoulder is doing awful and i just really need to see dr. wilson," his gaze meets yours, a soft spot quickly growing throughout.

  a pounding noise resonates through your ears, your fingers tingling. he could see right through your lies, bring you straight to fisk himself, watch as his hands tighten around your throat like a stress ball... "my boss will fire me if i can't! and my one year old can't live without food, please i need to see him!" tears begin to fall from your eyes to try to plead with the man.

  "alright... alright lady, just stay out of peoples ways and get to the top floor," he shakes his head, motioning his hand towards the stairs.

  you give him a short smile and start up the first flight of stairs. with your 'good hand', you wipe away the tears and look around. the floor has a few guards surrounding a certain room, that is until a loud noise sends them running past you. your eyebrows furrow as you look back to where they're running, and then back at the room in which they were standing.

masterlist / chapter five / chapter seven sorry this was shorter than normal :((

[miikishii]

To Hold the Sea | Ch. 7

main masterlist

series masterpost | previous chapter | next chapter

synopsis: conflict(ing feelings)

warnings: angst and fights!! yay!!

When you wake up, the night comes back to you in a blur. You can’t recall many details, but you know you’re not in your own apartment. When you roll over and see Ango, seemingly about to wake up, your heart drops. You shouldn’t be here. You’re disappointed in yourself, but yet, somehow, you’re glad to have fallen into his care and no one else’s. You sigh heavily and by now he’s opened his eyes. 

“What am I doing here?” 

“You were drunk last night. You called me to pick you up on the side of the road… You didn’t want to go back home so I let you stay. Nothing happened.”

“Why am I sleeping in your bed?” You give him an aggravated look,

“You asked me to! I didn’t-” he purses his lips as he pauses, “I didn’t want to leave you alone. You really should quit drinking. At least for now.” His sternness takes you by surprise. You take a deep breath to calm yourself. 

“I can handle myself, thanks.” You make an effort to be cold. Truth be told you’re not upset with him for helping, you’re upset with yourself. You wish you could stamp out the part of you that wants him back. You wish you didn’t have to feel so guilty for still finding comfort in him.

“You know I’m just trying to help. I don’t jump at every opportunity to worm my way into your life. I know my place.” His voice is angrier than before. The stern tone it took on is less intent on scolding you, it aims now to convey his hurt. 

“I know,” your voice is firm, “ I don’t need your disapproval-” he cuts you off quickly,

“It’s not just disapproval, it’s concern! I’m worried about you, I’m worried about Dazai too! Just because you don’t want me to doesn’t mean I’ll stop caring about either of you!” His voice cracks under the pressure of his words. He’s upset. He’s angry. He’s hurt. You feel guilty.

“I just want you to stay out of it, okay?”

“Stay out of it? When you’re the one who called me? The two of you can’t rely on each other, I know that! You both have such a tendency to let yourselves go it’s-”

“I was drunk! I shouldn’t have called! But what can I do, hm? I can’t take it back now, Ango.”

“I’m not asking you to take it back! I just- God- I want you to accept my help! We both know you need it!” You look away dejectedly, but he doesn’t back down, “I can’t just let you destroy yourselves… we both know it’s not what he would’ve wanted.”

“You don’t get to say that,” You bark, your vision growing blurry with tears, “you don’t get to say that.” Ango lets the silence sit. The weight of the room pushes down on him. He looks down at the sheets piled up in his lap, a blank but regretful stare stuck on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, “I never wanted it to happen. It was too late to stop it when I’d finally figured it out, you know it was Mori’s doing.” Silence sits between you again. After a few moments, you get up to gather your things and leave. 

“Please, wait!” he untangles himself clumsily from the sheets, trying to catch up to you. You just continue down his hallway, when he walks up behind you, he reaches out to grab your shoulder but stops before it touches you. You turn around and face him. He readies himself to hear something he figures he won’t like but, instead, you wait for him to speak,

“Please, just take care of yourselves. I’m just a call away.”

Ango watches as you turn around, staring longingly at your back. Tears well in his eyes just as they did the night you split. For a while, he stares at the spot in his living room where you stood, unmoving. It is the last memory he’ll have of you for quite some time.

note: sorry this one's so short! I'll prob post the next pretty soon :p

[babybatscreationsv2]

Marked ch 4

Marvel | Starker

When Tony's soul marks first appeared he was afraid he wouldn't be good enough for his soulmate. When Peter's marks appeared he was afraid of what the blood and bruises meant. Now they're left dealing with the consequences of a dangerous lifestyle and a lot of distrust.

Warnings: violence, murder

It felt weird inviting the man into his apartment. He was a complete stranger and yet sitting across from him felt like the most natural thing in the world. Their souls really did know each other. Peter was nervous, sure, but it felt right to be here with him. Yet, it felt so strange. Truth be told, he didn't know how he felt. He felt too many things all at once.

Peter looked at Tony from across the coffee table. He looked so out of place on his faded second hand couch. Him and Ned had gotten it off of Craigslist. Same with most of the other furniture here. The stained coffee table between them held a stunning bouquet of flowers. Nothing about the scene added up in Peter's head.

"How did you find me?" He asked. His voice interrupted the silence, but it did nothing to dissolve the tension.

"It's what I do," he answered plainly. Peter could see how guarded he was. Even his voice was masked. Just the way he sat as if claiming the couch, leaning casually against the arm, it was all calculated to give a certain impression.

"You find people?" Peter raised his eyebrows. "What are you, a detective?"

Tony smiled. "Not exactly."

Peter took a breath. He clasped his hands together. "Everyone thinks you're trouble. Ned and Mr. Octavius. I don't even dare show my aunt the bruises."

"I'm sorry about that. I'll try not to get punched in the face next time." He smiled apologetically.

"Did someone attack you?"

"Would that bother you?" His voice remained measured but Peter caught the excitement in his eyes. Still, he didn't know this man and he wasn't going to be talked in circles.

Peter scowled. "Has anyone ever told you that it's rude to answer a question with a question?"

Tony smirked. "It's a good way to get answers though isn't it?"

"And I suppose you're in the business of getting answers, too?"

"Now you're getting closer."

Peter ran his palm down his thigh. He hoped he wasn't visibly sweating. They weren't getting anywhere and if anything the tension felt worse. "Yeah, it would bother me. Just like it bothers me when they all tell me you're trouble. But that's crazy because I don't even know you."

Tony sat back. "I feel the same way. Only I know a lot about you and I guess that's not really fair is it?"

"No, it's not."

His mouth twitched like he might smile again. He was an awfully smiley person for someone covered in scars. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Why don't we start smaller scale?"

"What do you do for work?"

"Something else."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Fine. Where do you live?"

"Manhattan," he answered too simply.

Peter narrowed his eyes.

"I have a condo," he relented. "I've lived there about six years, it's a fairly new building. Of course I move around a lot anyway."

"For work?"

"You're not ready to know what my job is, Peter." The first real frown crossed his face.

"You're an assassin?" He said it like he was teasing, but he half meant it.

Tony leaned forward. His expression was firm, serious, urging Peter to take him in. "I'm never going to lie to you. So I need you to stop asking for now."

Peter sat back in his chair. "So they're all right about you then. You're not a champion boxer."

Tony laughed. "Is that what you thought?"

"It's what I wanted to believe, but I'm not stupid. I wanted to believe it was paint on my hands, but I know blood when I see it. And you're covered in a lot of it sometimes."

"You know a lot about blood, do you?"

"I fall down a lot."

"Is that how you got that scar on your knee?"

He nodded. "Tired to jump a staircase." He grimaced.

"Why?" Tony laughed.

Peter shrugged. "One of my friends said I couldn't. Guess he was right."

"Sounds like you need better friends."

"Do you have many friends?"

Tony thought for a moment. "Not many, but the ones I keep are loyal."

Peter huffed a laugh and shook his head. "Everything you say is so ominous."

He smiled softly. "I'm not making a very good first impression."

"No, it is good. You seem like someone who doesn't usually get nervous." But he was nervous about talking to Peter and nothing could be more flattering.

Tony just looked at him. He looked as if Peter had seen into his soul. Maybe he had. Maybe that was how all of this worked. He wanted Tony to see him, too.

"Let me take you out."

"Like a hit?" Peter drew back in mock surprise. "I was right!"

Tony smiled. "I'll pick you up tomorrow after work. We'll have dinner."

Peter crossed his arms. "Will we?"

Tony held out his hand in appeasement. "Excuse me. Would you please join me for dinner tomorrow?"

Peter smiled. "I would be honored, Tony."

----------

He had to make the right impression. Something impressive, something honest, something Peter would enjoy. He was used to simple things. That didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy a grand gesture. Besides, Tony liked expensive things. Dressing down and taking the guy out for a cheese burger wasn't his regular type of outing. Not if he was looking to have a good time.

He put on a suit, but left the tie behind as a compromise. The restaurant he'd made their reservation at didn't require them, but he was certain it was still a nice place. Definitely outside of Peter's budget. He had to admit it was thrilling to know he had the honor of treating his soulmate to all the things he'd been missing in life. Fancy food, expensive clothes, he'd give him everything. But he had to do it right. Desperate wasn't a good look on anyone. Or was it? Maybe Peter was into that. Damn, he hadn't been so nervous since he had to tell his dad that he crashed the Ferrari. At least this was guaranteed to have a better outcome. They were soulmates after all. He'd never seen soulmates that didn't work out in the end.

Tony took a last look in the mirror. The sight of his aging face made him hesitate. Peter was giving up a lot by choosing an old man. What could they possibly have in common with an almost 30 year age gap? Yikes. He sighed. His head fell forward, hanging down between his shoulders.

On his forearm little black lines began to appear. They swirled around and twisted into the shape of a rose. Then a sunflower. He couldn't help but smile. Who was he to decide for Peter that he wasn't good enough? He was happy. He was excited for their date. That much was clear. So, what the hell?

He took the elevator down to the garage. Steve and Bucky were hanging out, two of the few allowed anywhere near his home.

"Good luck, tonight," Steve called.

"I look alright?" Tony did a turn before he passed them.

Bucky looked at his watch. "You got time to change?"

"Watch it, Barnes."

"You look great, Tones. Go get him," Steve called. "Just don't lay it on too thick. You'll scare him off."

"Glad you're both so supportive," he scoffed.

"Happy to help, boss."

Tony climbed into the car and started the engine. He wrapped his hands around the wheel giving himself a moment to relax. It was practically a done deal yet the anxiety wouldn't leave him. He'd dreamed about having a soulmate once and he'd given up on it. He couldn't mess this up.

He left early. Maybe too early. Peter wasn't outside yet when he pulled up in front of rec center. A few kids were wandering out the door. He hoped Peter wasn't far behind. He found a spot to park on the street and sat with his leg bouncing impatiently. The awkward phase couldn't last forever, right? He couldn't believe he was nervous, but then again when was the last time he actually wanted to impress someone?

When Peter came outside, Tony's heart skipped a beat. He grabbed the handle of the car door and stepped out. Peter smiled when he saw him. He had a gym bag on one shoulder and his hair was damp. The outfit was barely going to make the dress code for the restaurant, but no one was going to say anything to the man on Tony Stark's arm. Still, he was gorgeous.

Tony walked around the car and met him on the sidewalk. "Ready to go?"

Peter nodded. His cheeks were blushing the prettiest pink. "You look great," he said.

"You look amazing," Tony answered. He took a step back and grabbed the door handle to open it for him. It was so sweet the way he blushed and ducked his head as he clambered into the car.

"How was work?" Tony asked as they pulled away from the curb.

"The kids wanted to play dodgeball, today." He laughed. "There's always the one kid, Grayson, who's afraid of getting hit."

Tony smiled. "Sounds like a sweet kid."

"Yeah, they're all great. Some of them have problems at school. Or at least their parents keep saying they do, but I don't see it. They're good kids."

"Maybe you bring out the best in people."

"Nah, I don't think it's me," he said, but he turned his head towards the window as if he were embarrassed. "What did you do today?"

Tony hesitated, realizing that the honest answer was wait for you to get off work. "Lots of boring phone calls."

"Must be nice to get out of the office then." He caught Peter looking at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He couldn't help but smile. He was too curious for his own good.

They pulled up to the restaurant and Peter gaped. "Here? I've never been here before."

"I thought a first date deserved something special."

"I'm not really dressed for this place. Don't they have a dress code?" He looked at the crowd walking into the building. "Everyone's wearing a tux. I can't go in like this."

"Hey, am I wearing a tux?"

Peter looked at him. "Well no, but still..."

"Trust me, alright?"

"Okay..."

Tony stepped out of the car and left the door open for the valet. The man greeted him and stood patiently to the side as another valet ran to open Peter's door. Tony offered his arm to the blushing young man. Even dressed down as he was, he was still far more beautiful than anyone else there. Even as they entered the building and walked beneath a dazzling gold and silver chandelier and over white marble embedded with gold and past a water fountain with shimmering orange and yellow fish, Peter was the most beautiful thing in the room.

The hottest spotted Tony and quickly stepped up to greet them and lead them to a table. Tony preferred the tables that were tucked against the far wall. There was a fire exit nearby if needed and they were more quiet than the tables at the center. She led them over to one before disappearing, only to be replaced by the sommelier. He'd barely spoken when Tony realized how overwhelmed Peter was.

"We'll pass on wine for now, thank you," Tony said. The man gave a small bow and hurried away. Peter visibly relaxed.

"You don't drink?" Peter asked.

"I thought you might like a moment to settle in. Someone will be by with fresh bread, they won't mind taking our drink orders."

"I'm okay, don't worry about me."

Tony reached across the table and took his hand. "You don't have to be anything you're not Peter. If this is too much for you, we can leave right now."

"No, I love it! I've just never been to a place like this before." He ducked his head a bit. It was so enticing watching him speak with his lips nervously bitten red, looking up through his lashes. He was beautiful in pictures, but in person he was enchanting. "Maybe you could order for me?" His laugh was self-deprecating. "I can barely read the menu, it's all in French."

Tony paused, debating whether or not to tell him that it was actually Italian. He looked so uncomfortable already.

"You're in good hands," Tony promised with a squeeze to his fingers. He took his hand away as the promised bread arrived. The comfort of warm bread seemed to help Peter relax. Tony led the conversation, keeping to light and easy topics. Peter talked so easily once he was relaxed and his inability to stay on topic was charming. He said every thought that came into his head and he didn't seem to know how unusual that was. No wonder everyone adored him.

They were getting their meals in front of them when Peter frowned. He was looking over Tony's shoulder.

"Do you know that guy?"

Tony turned to look. His heart caught in his throat. Fuck. That cheap suit and greasy hair. Quentin's people were here. He turned back and spared the dining room another glance. Sure enough, three more pairs of eyes were on them. Mother fucker.

He took out his phone and sent Happy a quick SOS. On the outside, he kept his expression calm. He put his hands flat on the table so they wouldn't shake.

"Peter, listen." Peter's eyes met his. He watched them wide slightly as he caught on to the grim energy surrounding them. "Remember how I can't tell you what I do for a living?"

He nodded.

"That's because it's bad. I didn't want you to think less of me before you even got the chance to know me. But I need you to trust me now. Can you do that?"

Peter glanced behind him again. "Tony what's going on?"

"Don't look at them, look at me." He paused while Peter turned his eyes back to Tony's face. "Can you trust me, Peter?"

"Of course. But what-"

"Get under the table," Tony cut him off. There was Quentin. He'd been sitting at the back of the room hidden behind a woman in a wide brimmed hat. He stood now, sharing a slimy smile with her as he walked towards their table. They were surrounded.

"What?"

"Down. Now!" Tony pulled the gun from his jacket, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He upended the table and Peter sunk down, using it to block them both in. Their backs were to the wall and either side was Quentin and his people.

Tony shot the guy at the back, the one Peter had been staring at. The first shot was good, but the panic in his heart had the second going wide as he shot at the next guy. He'd never felt like this before. Was he having a panic attack?

He looked at Peter, crouched low, trying to make himself small even though he was all gangly limbs. He wouldn't let anything happen to him. Not to him. No matter what.

Shot hit against the table and the wall behind them. Tony took a breath to slow his racing thoughts. There was a fire exit behind Quentin. He would have men at the door in case Tony got out. And a car for a quick getaway. Getting out wasn't going to work. But Tony had loyal bodies in the kitchen. That's why he came here.

He grabbed Peter's arm. Peter looked at him with terror. "Listen to me, you listening?"

Peter nodded. It worried him that the man wouldn't speak, but there wasn't time for worry.

"I'm going to draw them away. When you see an opening, run for the kitchen. Tell them Tony Stark said they're to protect you. Understand?"

He nodded again. Then he swallowed. "Yeah, okay."

"You'll be alright. I promise." It hurt to fail like this. To fuck up such an important moment. He didn't know how he was going to fix this, but he'd find a way. For now, he just had to get them both out alive.

Tony looked over the table. A shot grazed his forehead and landed in the wall behind him. He fired once at the guy left blocking the kitchen and he went down. Then he looked at Quentin. Just him and three of his men. None of Tony's had made it in yet. There must have been fighting outside.

He vaulted over the table and used the next to jump over the dividing wall that separated the back dining area from the front. A hail of bullets followed him just a hair too slow, but he swore he felt the heat of them at his back. He spared a glance to make sure they followed him, but he didn't dare look at Peter and risk reminding them that he wasn't alone.

Another shot, another one down, but he was still outnumbered. Where the fuck was Happy?

[j4c3r0s3]

MINE (Dark Bucky Barnes x reader) CH. 2

Minors DNI

Warnings: light smut (noncon), cunnilingus, yandere-ish, metal arm kink (if you squint), mention of y/n. Strong Theme (please be mindful, and don't read if this could upset you!)

Word Count: 1.3k

CHAPTER 2

Morning. You wake up staring at a cracked off-white ceiling. ‘This was just a bad dream. That’s all it was.’ No way in Hell was it just a bad dream. Your body is aching as the events of last night came back. You start to remember the previous events. You remember the chains, the knife, the fear, Bucky. You start to shake uncontrollably as your body is now wrecked. Was it even last night, you can’t remember. Everything is different. The room you're in and the bed you’re strapped to, is all new. ‘How long has he been planning this?’ You ask yourself. You turn your head ever so slightly and see your phone. ‘Did he forget my phone? Or is it a trap?’ You struggle to reach over, after some amount of tugging against the restraints, not even caring about the fresh red marks on your wrist. You managed to grab the phone and unlock it. Seeing worrisome messages from Steve, asking where you went. Before you could do anything the door opened.

“I see you've found your phone. I wanted to make this an enjoyable experience.” Bucky says in an amusing tone. His hand slowly traces up your leg and snatches the phone outta your left hand. You’re frozen in fear. “You’re trying to ask for help? No one knows where you are. No one cares where you are. Except me.”

“Steve cares.” Your voice is quivering and raspy.

“Steve? He isn’t worried about you.” Bucky smirks. “He is a fool. He doesn’t know anything.” Bucky's metal hand effortlessly shatters your phone to pieces. “I'll be the only contact you have now. No one will come and save you, dear. You just have to accept the fact that I will be the one to take care of you now. I will be the only one to love you now. You’ll come around.”

“I will never love you!” You scream out not caring about the toll it's taking on your already damaged vocal cords.

“Shhh, shh, baby. You will learn to love me. I will make sure of it.” His tone started to sound sick and twisted once again. His eyes trail up your nude frame. You knew what he was about to do. “All I wanted you to do was give in to your lust for me. I know it’s there.” He bites his bottom lip. “You are mine and there is nothing you can do about it. Accept it. Your body belongs to me.”

“No! Do you even know how sick you sound right now? You raped me. You kidnapped me. I want to kill you!” Your voice is raw and strained.

“That is only what you think happened. But think about it. Look deep within yourself and find the truth. You didn't fight back. In fact, you even enjoyed it. Y/N, I know you want me as much as I want you.”

“Didn’t fight back? I couldn't! You restrained me, and gagged me!”

“Shh, darling. Do you see the way I caress your face? The way I look at you with lustful eyes? I want you. I want you so badly. Bucky leans down, places his lips against your neck. “Please allow me to make love to you again. You deserve another chance. I know you liked it.”

“No! No, I hated it and I hate you!” The anger subsiding in you and the fear resurfacing once again as Bucky says.

“That’s okay, darling. I don’t care if you hated it. We both know you enjoyed it. And we will have sex again.” He moves to place a pillow under your head and another under your back. His fingers start tracing down your body. Stopping to pinch and twist your nipples ever so lightly, causing a whimper to escape your lips. They continue to trail down reaching your womanhood. The glint in his eyes and the lice of his lips, told you he was hungry, and you… well you were his feast. “We are going to be together, forever.”

The tears brimmed and burst down your cheeks. “Please… please don’t do this again. Let me go and I won't tell anyone. Not even Steve. We can pretend as if this didn’t happen.”

His sickening laugh. “Do you really believe that I am going to let you go? No. You belong to me.” His tone shifted to something wicked. “Give in to the inevitable. You know you can’t stop yourself from wanting me.” He leans in once again sucking and biting at your pulse point, on your neck. Making sure to cover more of your body in his new artwork. His teeth graze and bite your nipple, sending a small scream from your dry mouth. He switches after a moment giving attention to the next nipple. He kisses your torso, saving the best meal for last. He is face lined with your cunt, he looked up to you and smirked. “Do you smell that? Your body is starting to want me again.” He holds up his metal arm, running a finger through your slit. Thinking that maybe he might… never mind… there is always next time. Instead his tongue latches onto your pink bud. Licking, sucking, teething on your sensitive bud, sending sensations through your entire body. You hate every single minute of it, you hate how your body easily betrays itself. But Bucky wasn’t finished. He pulled away, and your body ached. It was so close to releasing the tension inside you, and he knew that. He blew cold air onto your pulsing bud. His tongue then dipped down, plunging right into your core. Tongue fucking you. You didn’t even have time to think, before you released your juices all over his face. Bucky, licked his face, and lapped up the cream still spilling from your entrance.

“And you say you don’t want me?” His dark chuckle comes out as he moves on top of you. Forcibly kissing you. You can taste yourself on his lips. It makes your insides twist, wanting to repulsively vomit. “I know you’ve been thinking about me. I’ve been on your mind since that first day we met.” He roughly grabs your hair with his flesh hand, while his metal one grabs your chin forcing your mouth open. Bucky starts kissing you sloppily and protruding his tongue into your mouth. He pulls back. “Your body has already admitted it to me.” He whispers against your ear, nibbling on, ever so lightly.

Bucky climbs off of you, stripping himself of his clothing. He tries to be more considerate this time. Lubing his length. He climbs back on top of you, lining his dick up with your entrance. He eases in better this time than the last. You cry, scream, and try to fight him off of you. Only hurting your chained wrist and legs in the process. Salty tears ebbing down your face. After some time his thrust becomes sloppy and erratic, he’s close, as well as you. Before you coil snaps, he finishes. Pulling out and forcibly opening your mouth once again, cumming inside it. He holds your mouth shut until you swallow the cum. Bucky's face is right back at your cunt. Wanting to bring you over the edge again with his own tongue. Wanting to taste every drop of your sweet and salty release. You’re debilitated. Bruises, bite marks, plus tiny cuts around your wrist and ankles from pulling too hard at the chains. You think to yourself. ‘Death. Sweet death would be better.’ You eventually pass out. Time becomes a concept that sounds so foreign to you.

[tealenko]

WIP -Sleep Cycle

I haven't written anything in a month, I wake up today and boom: a whole chapter.

To be fair, I've been reading a lot (someone help me for I'm in the Queen's Gambit vortex once again T-T) so... I've been inspired to write... But not my usual stuff soooooooo...

Here's a wip of the first chapter of my post-post-ME3 fic lol (it's in that point where calling this a wip is a strech... But I still have to revise it for mistakes so, technically, it's still a work in progress)

I think @sillyliterature tagged me for a wip (among many things, which I'm doing btw... love to do them, I just lack the time sometimes XDDD) And as always, thanks a lot for the tag <3 <3 <3

Okay, I'll shut up now XDDDDDDDDDDDD

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

Through Hell and Back series -> [link] A Chance at a Happy Ending - Ch.1 Sleep Cycle (WIP)

All her body aches.

That’s usually a literary sentence used as a hiperbole to get quickly to the point of view that an author wants to convey. 

Nevertheless, in this case it’s not only true, but it’s also been true for many years now.

No matter how well they resembled her after Alchera. No No matter how well they resembled her after the Citadel, after the war. The countless hours of doctors, training and therapy are only successful at keeping her alive, for it was their main objective they ever had, to keep her alive. No one stopped to think about the pain.

She turns again in her bed. And again. And again.

Every position hurts a different part of her body. 

So she turns one more time.

Carefully, of course. She’s always careful in her moments for, no matter how bad it hurts, it would be worse for her to wake up her bed companion.

Watching his sleep is even therapeutic in itself, which usually marks the position she finally chooses after hours of turning around on the right side of their bed, when the morning sun is starting to rise and there’s enough light in her room to be able to see something.

In desperation, she closes her eyes for a second, sighs and says to herself: if I’m not going to sleep… I should choose at least the better (sight).

So she turns one last time, completely ignoring the jaw dropping Vancouver sunrise that’s always featured through every window in their bedroom, and rests all her weight on the right side of her body, despite being the position that hurts her the most, and just stays there.

Frozen for what seems hours instead of minutes, staring at the man that sleeps next to her and trying her best to control her breathing.

God… He’s stupidly beautiful.

She thinks inside her head.

It’s not always that sentence, but it always conveys the same feeling. A mix of adoration and disbelief that masterfully hits her feelings without a fault.

After keeping the posture for a while, the pain starts to ease. Not because it gets better, but she starts to forget about it.

That’s another literary cliché for you. She mumbles inside her head, but that doesn’t make it less real for her.

Because, despite the fact that it is indeed an overused plot in thousands of novels and dramas, there’s no point denying the truth. 

The truth being: she loves him so much everything else disappears.

She laughs in disbelief. 

He mumbles something in his sleep, probably about her, but he keeps sleeping nonetheless.

Even after so many years, she still doesn’t believe it.

There’s always people who don't believe in true love, or just in love at all. There’s people who idealize it too much, looking for something that does not exist.

And then, there’s Mio, who always thought it existed, for she had seen it many times, but never expected she’d be able to deserve it, nor to find it.

And yet… Here we are.

She stares at Kaidan while pain fades, replaced little by little by the deep and increasing beats of her heart against her chest, by the intense breathing that fills her lungs every few seconds and by the many memories she treasures of him, flooding her mind and soul to make her forget about anything else.

The travel usually starts at the first time they met, always dedicating a second to laugh at her oblivious past self, who had no idea this is where the road was leading all along.

He blushes when I flirt…

She remembers thinking back on her first days aboard the old Normandy, before Saren and the reapers, before the council and the specters, back when her life, complicated and damaging as it was, still had a resemblance to something she could process and understand.

He’s cute when he blushes like that.

So she kept flirting with him.

And, as her life started more and more convoluted, as the few reasons she had to smile and keep going started to fade, and the weight of the entire galaxy (reacaía) on her shoulders, the flirting became first a distraction, then a routine, and later on, a trap on it own.

She cannot pinpoint exactly when her heart decided to surrender to what initially was only a pastime, but she still remembers the moment she realized her mind was no longer in control of her actions.

She can almost see it, as it was yesterday, and although she can no longer recall after which mission it was, she knows it was after a mission.

Chucked her equipment in record time, showered as fast as able and, still with her hair wet, maid it to the less lit area of the common space of the ship, where Kaidan always was, keeping himself busy with maintenance and repairs to distract himself from the many noises of the Normandy.

She liked when he stopped working right away the moment he noticed her presence, knew he was full with anticipation for the few seconds that he could spend with her outside of work, and that day wasn’t any different.

The focus of their conversation has been lost in the forest of her memories for a while now, but the end of it, she knows, is scorched to her soul in a way that will be impossible to forget.

Kaidan smiled at her, and she lost track of everything. It wasn’t the first time he used that power against her, but it was the first time she noticed. And, just like she does now as he sleeps, he found herself staring at him for a few seconds, before she was able to excuse herself and walk away.

Didn’t make it too far though.

In retrospect, she should have gone to her quarters, but to be fair, she wasn’t able to think that much at the moment. So she just got as far as possible, to the stairs that led to the main deck and, before losing control from her own mind, she made sure that she was alone.

And just like that, she realized. But how couldn’t she.

Her breathing had never been so intense, her heart had never beat so far and, to be honest with herself, the only reason her legs hadn’t failed her is because she was resting all her weight against the wall in order to avoid falling to the ground.

“What the f…”

She never finished that sentence, for she already knew what was happening, despite the fact that her mind was a few seconds behind in the process of being aware of it.

But the truth was that, after many flirts, after many smiles, her meetings with Kaidan had gone from casual to intense little by little and, what was once a routine, now was the only thing she looked up to in her entire day.

It felt good, felt right, to spend time with him. And, by the time she realized she could no longer call it anything as remotely as casual as mere friendship, it was already too late to run away.

That was her M.O. If you cannot kill it, run.

There’s a reason she had survived up to that date, afterall. 

Nevertheless, there she was, captured, against all odds, by her own trap.

And here she is now, lying in their bed, still mesmerized by Kaidan, even after so many years later, the same way as she was the first time.

She gets lost in her memories of him for a while.

When they met, when she walk up in the medbay and found him next to her after touching the beacon, when she realized he had fallen for her, that she had fallen for him, the night before Ilos, the way they stared at each other in between missions, when she got to see him again in Vancouver, when he came back to her crew… When he came back to her.

The confessions, the I love you, the i’m the luckiest man alive.

A tear falls as she lands in the moment when she woke up in a hospital, after the end of the war, and found him there, sleeping by her side as he does now.

Always at his side. 

Always.

And the always hits her soul, as it always does, and with all the good comes the bad to invade her mind.

The don’t leave me behind, the many moments she thought she’d lose him, the medbay of the Normandy after Mars where, this time around, they switched places so that the universe could torture her with the idea of a life where Kaidan is no longer alive. Alchera, and the look of his eyes when she ordered to leave, mortified by it till the last second as she suffocated alone in space, with the unavoidable force of the planet pulling from her.

She takes a pause, a second to breath, but her mind swifts now to different kind of torture, sinking her even more into the darkness of her memories.

Horizon.

She no longer minds the confrontation with Kaidan, no longer curses him for his words, no longer curses herself for her replies, nor for the way she broke her hand after hitting the wall in anger and anguish.

What still gets her, it’s the before.

An eternity of finding frozen people while desperately searched for him, looking in every single nook and corner not knowing what it would be worse, finding him frozen ot not finding him at all, mortified by the fact that there were her best options, praying to every deity she didn’t believe so that she wouldn’t find him dead in every corner she took and every room she entered.

The fear of losing him in Horizon tortures her to this very day, and brings along with it the pain of everyone else she’s already lost.

She closes her eyes, and begs for it to walk away.

Big mistake.

As if she was Alice, falling through the rabbit hole to Wonderland, she falls into the darkness, surrounded by her well known forest of personal memories and horrors.

The whispers, the voices, the regret. Everything in this hopeless realm joins forces to bring her back to the ground, and the many voices of those she’s lost during her life, fill the air that surrounds her without leaving spare time.

The ones she’s lost under her command at the Normandy are more prominent at the beginning, usually followed by the ones that died by her side, mostly members of her squad back in Akuze, the two friends she had for a few years after she runned away from the orphanage.

There’s a special highlight, now and then, where she hears Anderson talk to her, in a loving tone, as his voice morphs little by little to become her father’s, replaying the few memories she keeps of him before he died.

And when she thinks she can no longer hold any more pain inside of her, that’s when his voice hits her, as loud and clear as when they met on their first day as Alliance trainees, as when got drunk together, as when she surprised him on each one of his birthdays and he used all his forces to pretend he didn’t know when it was hers. 

The laughs, the mission… She, explaining to him how to shoot even better, and him teaching her the best ways to get through a written test. The way they celebrated when she finally got her high school degree, and two years later, graduated university.

His neverending yabber and the way she could be silent for days and he wouldn’t mind.

His jokes, her jokes… His kindness. His heart.

His nervousness as they were on their way to Akuze, as if his body already knew what was going to happen.

“Dee, listen… Please… Do not let me become an anchor.”

He told her, once they knew there was nothing she could do to save him, bleeding slowly into his demise as they awaited for the help that would not be there on time.

And then, as she always does, she hears the last thing he whispered before his eyelids started to become too heavy for him to keep his eyes open for much longer.

“How about a song?” 

He’d usually teased her, every week when they were on leave, from the moment he heard Anderson say that she had the voice of an angel. 

And she always refused.

Except for once.

Except that day.

With his last breath he asked her to sing and smile and, for the first time, and last, she complied and started singing.

He passed as she was mid song, with a smile on his face, and holding onto her hand. And as she noticed his grip losing all its strength, started crying, for the first time since she was little, and kept singing through her tears until the song was over.

Took a minute to breath, planted a kiss on his forehead and, she saw the message of the ship that were coming to aid her she softly said: 

“Okay.” As she sealed a promise to his late friend, and to herself, to keep moving forwards, even if it was only for him.

She wakes up abruptly as always, and the time on her clock hasn’t moved too much, which means revisiting all that suffering was for nothing.

“Okay...” She repeats now in the present, with a whisper, before taking the time to calm down. “Okay.”

Kaidan is still sleeping peacefully, as always, and she doesn’t want to disturb him and wake him up, as always. And, as always, she fails to do so.

She lasts around three seconds, before her body and heart, completely ignoring her better judgment, seek for comfort where she always finds it and, as if they have a life of their own, her arms quickly move to find Kaidan and embrace him.

Still half asleep he returns the hug, smiles a little and, as he comes back to reality, his eyes search for her, knowing what this type of waking up means half of the time.

Kaidan is not surprised to find tears on her face, for he’s seen them before and he also knows her past and knows that no one, not even Mio, could live free of pain after enduring so many horrors.

“I’m here…” He tells her, tightening the embrace even more, giving her a soft kiss on the top of her head.

She replies something incoherent and falls asleep in his arms, and now he is the one staring at her.

But Kaidan doesn’t feel pain. Not anymore.

The nightmares and regrets were left behind the moment she walked up in the hospital after the war, completely vanished, once he knew she would be okay.

Every stone in his path, every obstacle… Every loss. Everything he’s had to endure in his life had led him to her, right into her arms, and he’s well aware that he would’ve sacrificed even more without even blinking if he knew the end result was this one.

“Love you…” She whispers in her sleep,and he sighs a little as he feels his heart melting inside his chest.

“Always.” He replies, following her into a deep slumber.

[ficreadergirl]

Dangerous Inquiries (ch.15)

You sat there completely speechless. No words came to your lips. You were stunned. After a moment of silence you managed to stammer out a question. "How do you know that?" you asked. Both of them glanced at each other and then turned to look at you again. "Because… y'know. Bruce kind of helping Batman and we heard from him." Dick said slowly, unsure of what reaction you would have. You remained silent for a few seconds before turning your gaze back onto the table. "Are you sure about that?" you whispered brokenly. "We're pretty sure Y/n. I'm so sorry." Dick apologised earnestly. "So… my father was…" you said in disbelief, not being able to finish your sentence. Tears formed in your eyes. Dick put an arm around your shoulder and squeezed you tightly. "Y/N, we will find out the truth. Never doubt that. Okay?" he said soothingly. "It's true isn't it then?" you said shakily. "My father did… something he shouldn't done." You felt Dick tense up beside you as though trying not to cry. "We're going to find out everything." Dick said quietly. You could tell how much pain he was going through. "Okay." you said quietly. "Look, if you ever feel unsafe or upset, you can always stay with us. Just stay away from Jason and that white haired woman. Please." Kory pleaded. "Thank you both." you said softly. They gave you a sad smile in response. You stood up and hugged them both. "We love you sweetie." Dick whispered before letting go of you. "Love you guys too." you replied, giving each one a tight hug again. You were tired, emotionally and physically drained. "Guys I'm really tired." you mumbled weakly. They nodded in understanding. "Alright honey, we'll see you tomorrow." Kory told you warmly. You smiled and waved goodbye at them both. As soon as the door had been shut, tears began falling down your face. You sobbed into your hands desperately. What were you gonna do now? You thought to yourself, shaking with fear.

You stood up, dried your tears and went into your room. You picked up your laptop and began browsing various online sites. One caught your eye. A site where people post stories and posts articles related to Gotham's murders and serial cases. You were looking for Red Hood's cases, hoping to find evidence to link them to your father's murder. You found nothing else but victim's victims curses on the internet. "Damn!" you exclaimed. You slammed the laptop closed angrily, causing several pictures to fall onto the floor and shatter. "Shit!" you cursed under your breath, quickly picking up the pictures, putting them back together and walking over to the window and looking outside. You were beginning to feel like there was no hope for your father's innocence. Not anymore. He may have been a criminal, but he was still your father. You closed your eyes tightly and took a deep breath. You sighed deeply and opened your eyes. You wanted to calm down, but this was not getting any easier. Your emotions had been running high for so long now. You wanted to call Jason and hear him tell you Red Hood wasn't the murderer. You wanted to stop seeing those images in your head. After calming yourself down you decided to call him. You needed to talk to someone. Your finger hovered over the number before finally pressing the call button. It rang once before Jason picked it up. "Y/n-" he started but you interrupted him. "Hey Jason. That white haired woman-" you started to say. "I'm at your door Y/n. Could you open it?" Jason cut you off. "Wait! Where are you?" you questioned.

"In front of your house right now." he answered simply. "Oh okay. Yeah I'll come let you in." you responded. You hung up the phone and made your way towards the door. Once you opened the door, you noticed Jason standing in front of your door. "What happened?" you asked confused. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." he answered. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? Is something happening?" you asked concerned. Jason hesitated for a second before responding. "Can we talk inside?" he requested. You looked at him, wondering why he sounded so nervous. "Yeah, sure." you answered hesitantly. You stepped aside and allowed him to enter first. He followed you into your living room and closed the door behind him. He stood in the middle of the living room for a minute. "Is everything alright? Is there something you need to tell me?" you asked him carefully. He stayed quiet for a while as he looked around your apartment, searching for something. "Could you bring me water please?" he finally asked, glancing over at you. You walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. You handed him it. "Thanks." he replied softly. He drank some water while you started talking. "You remember that white haired woman I told you about. Right?" you asked him. He nodded as you continued, "Well, I learned that she is work-". You were cut off abruptly by Jason's lips against yours, effectively shutting you up. Your eyes widened slightly but you recovered quickly. When he pulled away you were blushing madly and couldn't form any words.

"Jason… What-" you began confused. "Y/n I need to explain myself." he interrupted you gently. Your heart skipped a beat. "Go ahead." you breathed. He stared at you intently for another moment before continuing. "I gotta go." he stated suddenly heading for the door. You stood frozen watching as he disappeared. Your mind was spinning trying to process what just happened. Had it just really happened? Did Jason Todd just kiss you? Your cheeks burned brighter red as more questions filled your mind. Did you just let him kiss you? Was that okay? What should I do now? Why am I even thinking about this stuff right now? you wondered frantically. You took a deep breath and tried to push all thoughts out of your mind as you headed towards your bedroom. You needed to rest now and think about it later.

Read more

[sunnyie-eve]

47 | Four Gates

Series: Trouble In Hawkins (Steve Harrington x Henderson! Eddie Munson x Henderson!)

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: mention of past trauma,

Ch. 46

"Sky..." Skylar slowly turns a her head around to where she heard a whisper. "Guys." She reaches to grab Eddie's arm but can't find it. "Guys." She turns back around to see them looking up at the gate still. "Skylar." She turns her head back around to see the inside of Star Court Mall then looks around to see she was now in the mall.

~

"What do we do?!" Robin start to panic as they watch Steve and Nancy. "Music." Max says. "Skylar, you're friends with her. What's her favorite song?" Lucas asks making everyone turn to her. "Sky." Dustin moves to see where she was looking. "Skylar!" He yells seeing she was in a trance too. "He can do two people at once?!" Erica shouts. "Watch the two of them." Dustin tells Erica as they search the trailer for something to help them.

~

"Billy please, don't go. Remember how you said you wanted to go back to California? Come on, I'll go with you. It's a yes but you gotta stay with me." She hears her own voice as she walks around then stops when she sees blood on the floor where Billy's body laid. "You moved on from me. How could you? I thought you loved me..." She hears Billy's voice from all around. "You can't fool me. Billy wanted me to move on." She looks around for him.

"I didn't want to say those things. He made me write those down, Sky." Vecna says in Billy's voice making Skylar tear up. "No, no, no. You're lying to me." She starts to breathe heavily. "I'm telling the truth, princess. He made me write all that down." She turns to see Billy walking towards her. "I always knew you never loved me. You used me to get over Steve. You lied to me as I died in your lap. You didn't love me. You loved him." He walks up being toe to toe with her. "You spent time0000 with me to get over Steve, but it didn't really matter because you didn't lose any feelings for Steve." The back of his hand touches her cheek. "You're not Billy so stop it." She stares into his eyes.

"How are you doing this? You already have Nancy in a trance." She steps away from him. "I've been watching you since Billy died." As she blinks Vecna was his normally self. "Part of me has been in your mind for months. The pain from loving Billy and Steve at the same time." She blinks again to see Bard dead, "The pain of being part of the reason Barb is dead." He goes back to himself. "Still deep down hurt from Steve treating you like you were nothing. Secretly feeling like you're responsible for your father leaving your family. I know every thought in your mind." He stands over her as she looks up at him. "When I end others suffers I become stronger... I take everything from them. Little by little I've been using you without you even knowing. Will you let me show you what I'm going to show Nancy?" The mall suddenly becomes Hawkins lab and Nancy was held down to a chair at the end of the hall. Venca was now standing over Nancy and puts his hand out to her face showing her what's to come to Hawkins and it's flashes though Skylar's eyes as she stand at the other end of the hall.

After everything she ends up at the trailer park outside seeing the swarm of bats flying around in one part. "I'll become more stronger off of you when you see what is happening at the center of that. Not everyone will make it, Sky." Vecna tells her as she slowly walks towards it then starts to run seeing Dustin limp his way towards the swarm. "Dustin!" She screams before everything goes black then flashes of Vecna's whole life. From when he was a child, his time in Hawkins lab, meeting El, him exploring the Upside Down, the day it turned to Hawkins, what he did and saw throughout the years they have been battling the Upside Down. "You're very clever Skylar." He tells her as her eyes kept rolling back. "What if Vecna was someone like El? Someone who had powers too? I mean the papers never said Victor's son died the same way as the rest, just died in the hospital." She hears herself again.

~

"She's back!" Steve tells to the others about Nancy. "We have another problem up here with Skylar!" Erica shouts at him. "Skylar?!" Steve shouts worried as he helps Nancy through the gate then himself. "Skylar, come on." Steve grabs her by the shoulders before she comes back falling to the floor passed out. Max suggest they go to her trailer so Steve picks Skylar up carrying her as she was out cold. "I still don't understand how he got both of you in a trance at the same time." Dustin eyes Nancy who was still out of it. "Is he that powerful now?" Lucas asks worried.

The next morning when Skylar wakes up Steve was on watch duty for her and Nancy. "Good morning." She whispers to him. "You scared us even more when you went into a trance too." He sits next to her. "Not gonna lie I got scared but didn't break... Tried using Billy to get to me." She sighs thinking back. "You're okay, that's all that matters." He cups her face. "I don't think I am though..." She looks into his eyes. "Why do you say that?" Steve asks confused and starts to get worried. "He said part of him has been in my mind for months. Little by little he's been using me without me even knowing." She explains to him as others start to wake up. "Sky!" Dustin wraps his arms around her.

When everyone was awake Nancy finally could tell them what Vecna showed her. "Okay, but... he's just trying to scare you, Nance. Right? I mean... I mean, it's not real." Steve tells her. "Not yet. He showed me what he showed Nance. There were four gates spreading across Hawkins. They looked like the one in Eddie trailer but didn't stop growing." Skylar speaks up. "But this wasn't the Upside Down Hawkins. It was our Hawkins. Our home." Nancy says terrified. "Four chimes." Max speaks up. "Vecna's clock. It always chimes four times. Four exactly." She lets them know making Nancy and Skylar say they heard it too. "He's been telling us his plan this whole time." Max sighs. "Four kills. Four gates. End of the world." Lucas says. "If that's true... he's only one kill away." Dustin sighs while Max tries to call Joyce's number.

"We have to go back in there. Back to the Upside Down." Nancy turns to the group making Steve, Eddie, and Skylar say no. "What is there to think through?" She asks Steve. "We barely made it out is there." Steve tells her. "Yeah, because we weren't prepared. But this time, we will be. We'll get weapons and protection. We'll go through the gate, we'll find his lair, and we'll kill him." Nancy lists a draft plan. "Or he'll kill us. The only reason you and Skylar survived is because he wanted you two to. He's not scared of us." Steve tries to get her to understand. "And for good reason. We were wrong about Vecna. Henry. One. We've learned something new about Vecna/Henry/One. He's a number like Eleven, only a sick, evil, male, child-murdering version of her with really bad skin. But my... my point is, he's super powerful. He could turn us inside out with a snap of his fingers. It's not a fair fight." Robin explains.

"Then why fight fair? You're right. He's like Eleven. But that gives us an upper hand. We know Eleven's strengths. And weaknesses." Dustin says before explaining the weakness to everyone then what could be a plan. Max then speaks up after Robin said they don't know his pattern or when he will, saying they do and she will be the bait and willing to risk it. "I get you guys are set on this and think of we've come up with an awesome plan but he told me not everyone will survive." Skylar stands up so they look at her. "If we do it well, we all will." Nancy tells her. Skylar shakes her head sitting back down next to Eddie.

-

"This...this place is just far enough outside of Hawkins. As long as we steer clear of main roads, we oughta be able to avoid cops and, uh, angry hicks." Eddie tells us after showing us where we can get weapons to kill Vecna. "But is it worth the time? It'll take all day to bike there and back." Dustin tells us. "Who said anything about bikes?" Eddie looks at him. "You got some car we don't know about?" Steve looks at him. "It's not exactly a car, Steve. And it's not exactly mine, but uh... it'll do. Hey, Red, uh, you got a ski mask or a bandanna, something like that?" Eddie looks over at Max. She leaves then comes back with her Michael Myers mask. "This is all I got." She hands it to him. "That'll work." He takes it and we follow him.

"The RV really?" Sky whispers to him. "You got a better idea?" He asks her. "No but that's their home." She adds. "And they're rude remember..." He says. "True." She shrugs her shoulders. They all follow Eddie to the RV and jump in through the back window quietly. "You can do this fast right?" I follow him to the front. "Of course." He gives me a smile as Steve comes over. "Where'd you learn how to do this?" He asks him. "Well, when the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball, my old man was teaching me how to hot-wire. Now, I swore to myself I wouldn't wind up like he did, but now I'm wanted for murder, and soon, grand theft auto. So, uh, I'm really living up to that Munson name." Eddie tells him. "Eddie, I'm not sure I love the idea of you driving." Robin joins us. "Oh, I'm just starting this sucker. Harrington's got her. Don't ya, big boy?" Eddie smiles at him making me slightly giggle. When Eddie starts the vehicle the owners start banging to get in so Steve hops in the drivers seat. "Everyone hang onto something!" Steve yells at us so we all do.

As we were on the road Nancy and I said we'd take turns in the passenger seat. "How's it handle?" I ask Steve as me and Nancy swap places. "Not half bad. Considering that this is a... house." He says making me smile at that. "You know, it's silly, but I... I've actually... I always had this dream that I'd have this really... really big family. I'm talking, like, uh, a full brood of Harringtons. Like, five, six kids." He says making me laugh. "Six? You want six little nuggets?" I look at him. "Yeah, six little nuggets. Three girls, three boys." He says making me nod my head. "And... and every summer, I figured all of us Harringtons, we would pack into something like this and just see the country. You know, the Rockies, Grand Canyon, maybe Yellowstone. End up in some beachside town in California. Spend a week parked in the sand. Learn how to surf or something." He tell me.

"That sounds really nice" I say making him look over at me. "Yeah?" He asks. "Yeah." We stare at each other. "Can I tag along?" I smile making him laugh. "I was hoping you'd be there too actually." He makes my smile bigger. "Yeah?" I ask. "Yeah." He chuckles. "I would say six little nuggets is a nightmare, but we both know you're well trained in that area by now." We both laugh.

Next

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi! Hope you’re doing well and thank you for all you do for the fandom it really is appreciated!

I was wondering if you knew of any fics that explores sherlocks trauma with Redbeard/Victor and the aftermath of Sherrinford and Euros with John helping him. I’ve recently read “(Never) Turn your back to the sea” and loved it and wondered if anyone knows of anything similar!?

Thanks!!

Hey Nonny!

First, the fic you suggested, which I love:

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords(M, 39,968 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It || Grief / Mourning, Victor Trevor, Friendship, Sherlock is Not Okay, Nightmares/Flashbacks/Panic Attacks, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John Comes Home) – Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.

------

Secondly, none immediately come to mind, but this fic DOES deal a lot with the aftermath of TFP:

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by   ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) –Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

And I'll have other fics on my S4 lists:

TFP Is Canon

Post S4 / S4 Fix Its

Post S4 / S4 Fix Its Pt. 2

Post S4 / S4 Fix Its Pt. 3

Post S4 / S4 Fix Its Pt. 4

S4 Rewrites

S3 / TAB / S4 [FIX IT] Fics (March 2019)

Post S4 and Mental Health

Anyone have any other fics they want to suggest for us that I obviously missed?

[squirenonny]

how is pidge with clothing textures?

[Autistic fictional character asks]

1. How are they with clothing textures? are they fine with fashionable but uncomfortable clothes or do they prefer casual & comfy? or other?

Most fabrics are okay--not always great, but at least tolerable. Pidge tries to stay away from wool and lace because they itch, but otherwise they can pretty much ignore anything else.

But Pidge. Hates. Tags. Not a single shirt has escaped a pair of vengeful scissors (except for those beautiful little unicorns, the tagless tees.) They’ve even cut holes in a couple of shirts because the stub still bothers them. (Matt had a magic touch--Pidge swears by his ability to remove offending flaps of pestilence and death.)

As far as general clothing choice, Pidge is casual and comfy all the way. Fashion is just. Not a consideration. They don’t avoid fashion, they just don’t pay attention to it at all when they buy clothes. Loose-fitting is better than tight, and they like sweatshirts and other thick/heavy tops for the pressure of it.

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (11/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: you know what's coming - the truth.

Warnings: angst, minor violence

Word Count: 2k

A/N: i listened to my favorite saddest songs while writing. be prepared. thanks for your kind feedback! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

JJ snaps you out of your thoughts. There's an expression on her face that you can't find the words for. "Y/N? What does she mean?"

You have to swallow. Your throat is tight and you can barely breathe, so you cling to her to keep from sinking to the floor. You can't take your eyes off the two in the interrogation room.

"What deal?" Spencer sits up straighter than he already does. His whole body is tense.

Cat shakes her head. "I thought you weren't here to talk about her or you."

When Spencer slaps the table with his palm, she doesn't even flinch. You do, the harder, and JJ's hands clench into fists. But you only notice this out of the corner of your eye. "What deal, Cat?" His tone is harsh, leaving no room for Cat's games.

She sighs. "Maybe you should ask her yourself. After all, she did come here with you, didn't she? I don't think she'd skip this dance." Cat looks past Spencer to the one-way mirror, straight through it, as if she knows you'd be standing right there. Her grin is crooked and ugly. "Come on, Y/N. You should know I don't bite. Not without notice, anyway."

You feel JJ's gaze on you as you enter the interrogation room without a word. You close the door behind you and out of the corner of your eye you notice Spencer looking at you. But your gaze is fixed straight on Cat. You stop right at the door.

"It's good to see you again, Y/N."

You don't have to be a mind reader to know what's going on in Spencer's head. It's practically written all over his face. Again?

"Hi, Cat," you reply curtly. You feel like shooting her.

"I always knew you lived dangerously. But I didn't think you were stupid. Yet you were the smartest one on your team. No offense, Spencie." She says it like she's bored out of her mind, not like the whole situation could completely escalate in the next second. Spencer tries not to let on, but you can read the confusion on his face. "I guess I was wrong about that."

"What are you talking about?" you ask, involuntarily taking a step forward. Cat takes it as a sign to keep talking.

"I know you killed my partner in crime. Must have been quite a mess, I'm told. Shot right through the head. Kudos, Y/N. I knew you were smart, but you're also badass. Who would have thought." She raises her hand and inspects her filthy and chewed fingernails. Her gaze drifts to you without her moving her head. She looks at you through her eyelashes, which makes her look crazy. "Quite a pity about him. But he was really just my accomplice's boyfriend. So, not worth mentioning."

Accomplice? Boyfriend?

It only takes a brief moment for everything to come together in your head. Apparently, all emotion falls from your face, because Cat looks extremely pleased. "You didn't play by the rules, Y/N. And now someone else has to pay for it."

In three steps, you've crossed the room and pulled Cat from her chair. Before Spencer can stop you, you push her full force against the nearest wall, causing a gasp to escape her mouth. You press your forearm against her throat and she lets out a hoarse laugh. Her gaze mirrors yours. Fierce and unyielding. The pressure on her throat intensifies and she has to cough.

You feel big hands on your shoulders, yanking you back so that you stagger and bump into the table. For a brief moment, you want to fight back as you leap forward again to put a stop to Cat once and for all, but Spencer extends his arm to allow some distance between you. You don't look at him. Out of anger and out of shame, because this isn't you.

"What's going on here?", he finally asks when you've pulled yourself together a bit and he's sure you won't kill her the next chance you get. "What's she talking about, Y/N?"

Cat's look is challenging and you know full well she's not going to say anything. She's dropped the bomb and now it's up to you to make sure the explosion isn't too devastating. You look at Spencer and tears form in the corners of your eyes. There's no way to get around it. And he better hear it from you than from some crazy psychopath. You owe him that much.

"When you were arrested", you begin, hoping your voice doesn't sound as brittle as it does, "it was clear to me from the start that Scratch couldn't be responsible. When you were taken to Millburn Correctional Facility instead of protective custody, it should have been obvious to the others. It was no accident that they sent you there. It was too personal." You can barely look at him, which is why you stare at the floor. "It couldn't have been Scratch, but there was no one else who had a score to settle with you." Your gaze shifts to Cat, "Except for her.

I had no proof, nothing. But I was one hundred percent sure she had something to do with it. So I talked to Emily. She gave me the day off, and I came here." You suppress the urge to knead your hands, so you shove them into your pants pockets. Your gaze wanders back to the floor, though you'd like to look at Spencer. You want to know what's going on inside him, but you don't dare. "Cat denied having anything to do with it at first, but I didn't believe her. And then she made a deal."

"And that included?" asks Spencer. You have to swallow.

"She would get you out of jail, after all, she put you in there too. I knew you wouldn't make it through jail. And not because you were too weak, but because I knew there were some people there who wouldn't bat an eye to hurt a FBI agent like you. And I couldn't stand that, so I went for it." With each word, your voice grows quieter, though you try to sound as determined as possible. But the pain weighs you down and takes away your breath. You remember the visit then, and what it had cost you.

"And what did she want in return?" Spencer's eyes glisten as if tears have formed in them. He blinks once, and the shine disappears. "What the hell did she want, Y/N?"

You can't stop the tears streaming down your cheeks Your heart is beating fast, like it's about to jump out of your chest. You take a deep breath and brace yourself for what follows. "She - she wanted me to leave you. Cat knew that prison could never hurt you the way I would if I abandoned you. If I left, with no explanation and no goodbye."

Spencer's shoulders sink and his muscles are no longer stretched to breaking point. You don't dare look at him, so you stare at Cat, whose grin has actually widened. Psychopathic sadist.

"Actually, Y/N was never supposed to come back either", she continues the explanation, but Spencer continues to look at you. "That was the deal. You weren't supposed to tell anyone about this and never come back, but you didn't stick to that. You thought if you killed the guy and I continued to be in here, you could go back home and get on with your life." Her grin disappears and suddenly she looks incredibly bitter. "Very reckless, if you ask me. My birdie knows you're back home, and as a warning, she left you a trail of dead married men. Apparently you got the message, after all, you're here. That they are dead is all your fault, Y/N. Because you couldn't stay away from your beloved Spencer." She looks from you to Spencer. "It's tragic, isn't it? She loves you so much that she took on all that pain just so you could get out of jail. How incredibly selfless of her. And I'm pretty sure you weren't exactly kind to her when she returned, were you, Spencie?"

Spencer and you can't look at each other, so heavy is the pain on your shoulders. All the anger, despair, and confusion that had spread through you since you saw each other again gives way to an all-consuming feeling of pressure that you can't shake. The only thing that can give you both some comfort is the clarity that has been created. Spencer now knows what really went on, and you no longer have to keep secrets from him. But the matter is far from over.

You look to Cat, but can't find the words. She's won.

You leave the interrogation room without looking at Spencer or saying another word. What could you have possibly said? JJ looks at you with widened eyes as you rush past her. She has her cell phone to her ear, probably talking to Emily, but calls after you, but you don't stop. The air in the building is stuffy and you feel like you're choking on it. Your heart is racing and you feel sick. You just want to get out.

"Y/N." Spencer's voice forces you to stop. You stop so jerkily that you almost fall. When you turn to face him, he's standing right in front of you. His gaze is hard. He opens his mouth, but he doesn't know exactly what to say either.

"I can't, Spencer", you beat him to it. You want to turn and keep walking, but his hand curls around your arm. At the touch, you're struck by lightning.

"Don't you think we should talk about this?"

You should. Definitely. "She had the men killed because I returned", you whisper. "She killed them because I couldn't take it anymore. Because I wanted to be with you. It's all my fault, Spencer. And I'll take the consequences for that."

"So you're just going to leave? Without explanation and without goodbye?"

You don't want to leave, quite the opposite. You would love to throw yourself into his arms, kiss him and never let go. You want to tell him you love him, but you can't. "I can't stay, Spencer. If I did, she would kill more people. I can't be responsible for that. I'm sorry."

You turn away from him, but as you take a step forward, Spencer pulls you back, making you slam against his chest. Your hands settle on the soft fabric of his shirt as his settle on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. His expression has changed. There is deep sadness in his eyes and he tries to blink away the tears that have formed in the corners of his eyes, but they fall down his cheekbones. All at once, he looks so young. "Promise me you'll come back? Back to me?" One of his hands clasps both of yours, still resting on his chest. He holds them tightly, afraid of losing you again.

You smile weakly at him and tears come to your eyes too. Your smile is honest, but sad. "I will always come back to you."

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[demonsandmischief]

My Warrior Wolf Ch. 4

Marvel - A Bucky Barnes Werewolf AU

Warrior! Bucky x Female Reader

700 Words

Ch 3 and Masterlist for other chapters

-Chapter 4-

The truth.

TW: a bit of panic

---

"I want to explain to you why I reacted the way I did when you touched my arm," Bucky said. He hadn't touched his food, and you still felt a bit unnerved. He seemed to be lost in thought, and you weren't sure of what you could say or do to fix it.

"You don't have to, Bucky. We don't know each other that well, so you don't owe me an explanation," you said back, unable to meet his steely gaze that was piercing right through you.

You picked at your food. You were glad there was something to do other than look at him, which you desperately wanted to.

"That's the thing. I want to get to know you, and I want you to be able to understand."

You finally put some food in your mouth, delaying your response. With a nod, you agreed to hear him out.

"I can't do it here," he said, and you frown. That only added to your curiousity, so you pay for your food and head back to your place to talk.

The car ride was awkward. Bucky was still lost in thought, and your mind was flooded with possibilities of what the hell he was going to tell you. You wished he would turn on the radio or roll down the windows, anything to break the endless silence.

You fumble for your keys when you finally make it home, but he stops you from entering.

"Let's just stay out here, okay?"

You furrow your brows, "You're freaking me out, Bucky."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He steps down onto the grass, putting some space between the two of you. He couldn't explain to you what happened to him without telling you what he was.

"I'm a wolf, Y/N," he said finally.

"What are you talking about?" you whispered, feeling the panic creep up your neck.

He gestured for you to turn around and you decide to humor him.

What did he mean by wolf? Why was there always something wrong with the guys you were interested in? What was he doing right now?

When you turned around, you nearly collapsed. There was a literal wolf in your front yard. A three legged wolf at that.

Your mind couldn't even begin to process what just happened. The panic became a choking grip that caused your breathing to become laboured.

"Is this some kind of joke?" you finally manage to ask out loud, stepping back. You reached for the doorknob.

There was no way a man could become a wolf. There was not any logical explanation, but it happened.

"Wait, Y/N," Bucky called, and you turned, shocked to find him on two feet. It happened so fast, like a blink of the eyes.

He was standing shirtless, his chest heaving, and on top of your confusion you also felt a flood of desire.

The prosthetic metal arm glittered in the midday sun. It only added to the credibility of the situation, yet it was too much.

"I don't - I don't understand why you told me this," you swallowed, finally getting your front door open. You wiped your palm on your pants.

"We need to talk," he said, stepping closer. "Maybe you should sit down."

"I'm fine," you reach up to rub your temple that had started to ache dully. "I just need time to process this."

You take a step only to stumble forward. Bucky reached out, catching you by the arm before you hit the ground. The skin to skin contact sent electricity through his veins.

"Shit," he cursed. He was trying to avoid strengthening the mate bond. He wanted you to have a chance to develop your own feelings. Never mind that, "Are you okay?"

You nodded, feeling so many conflicting emotions at once.

He helped you to the couch. "I still have so much to tell you, but I'll give you time to process if that's what you want."

You didn't want him to leave, but that was so very different than what you were thinking just a moment ago. You scrubbed your face, confirming you needed time to process, and so Bucky left.

----

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[we-are-inevitable]

so i'll try to talk refined // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: this is so self indulgent holy fuck

WARNINGS: implied sexual content, drunken flirting, one night stands

SUMMARY: It was supposed to be a one night stand. One night, one too many drinks, one stupid decision that wouldn't have an actual effect on anything David cared about, aside from giving him a much needed night off.

But, when his one night stand turns out to be a new every day part of his life for the foreseeable future, David has... some choices to make.

For starters: choose to ignore his obvious attraction to the muralist working in his library, or choose to face the challenge head on.

If only he knew how to navigate this plot twist.

Tag List: @tarantulas4davey @oof-musicals​ @panicky-pancakes (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

Read On AO3!

David has never seen someone as gorgeous as the man sitting across from him at the bar.

Maybe that’s a somewhat straightforward statement. David has seen a lot of gorgeous people- he grew up in New York City, for crying out loud; he falls in love with someone new on the sidewalk every day, it seems. There’s just… something about this guy, though, that David is more than a little attracted to.

It’s probably his hair. David has always been a sucker for curls, and this guy’s hair is so curly on the ends- but he has a middle part, and his bangs-but-not-really-bangs are more wavy than curly, and it’s swooped back like some popular guy from the 90’s, or, like... Zayn Malik circa late 2014. Either way, David is loving it.

But that isn’t the only aspect of this guy that he’s loving.

For one, his eyes are the most striking golden brown that David has ever seen, and his tan skin is shining beautifully underneath the gaudy, in-your-face lights in the bar. If David stares hard enough, he can make out freckles dotting the expanse of his face, spread across a sharp jawline and even sharper cheekbones.

Needless to say, David is in love. Not literally, of course- David and ‘love’ don’t really mix well- but he’s never not going to be thinking about Random Guy in the Bar, so it’s kind of the same thing, right?

David almost considers going over to talk to him, but he falters. This is a... regular bar, probably, not one of the many gay bars David frequents, and he’s probably a straight guy with a low tolerance for getting hit on by dudes but, also, it’s 2021, and David is a little tipsy, so what’s really the harm in going over to talk to Random Guy? He might get punched, yeah, but David has taken worse. Much worse. There was that time in high school, when he kissed his boyfriend in the hall and was--

No, no, now is time to think happy thoughts, Tipsy David reminds himself.

Tipsy David is a lot braver than Sober David, and as he stands from his barstool and makes his way over to Random Guy, Tipsy David hopes that Sober David won’t have a black eye in the morning.

He takes in a deep breath as he approaches, but puts on a brave face as he comes up next to the guy. “Excuse me,” He starts, and pauses as the man whips around, eyes widening just slightly, and, oh, God, he’s even hotter up close. “I know this is a shot in the dark, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you how attractive you are,” David says, as nonchalantly as he’s able to, while he leans against the bar counter.

The man stays silent for a few moments, and David can practically see the gears turning in his mind- before he’s flashing a megawatt smile at David and saying, “Thanks, man. That means a lot.”

Oh, sweet Jesus, that accent is thick. It’s classic New York- like, classic classic. Old New York classic. Just this side of a stereotype, but oh so genuine, and David is living for it. His voice is really nice, too; not very deep, but gravelly and kind of rough and hoarse and oh, why was this guy blessed with perpetual perfect morning-voice? He sounds like he just woke up and rolled out of bed, so rough and gorgeous.

But that’s beside the point, because this guy is clearly not picking up what David is putting down. That’s alright. Maybe a bit disappointing, but it’s not like David had any high hopes anyway.

David gives a nod and a smirk, standing up straight. “Just telling the truth,” he replies easily, then slaps his hand gently on the bar. “Have a good one.”

“You, too,” The guy says, staring up at David. He opens his mouth, as if to say something else, but instead he just offers a smile and a nod.

David nods back, turning to walk away, feeling pretty good about the interaction. He wasn’t punched, and wasn’t rejected, and--

“Hey, wait,” The man’s voice stops him in his tracks. David turns with a raised brow, taking in the man’s appearance once more- hair, eyes, freckles, skin, jeans and a plain henley with the sleeves rolled to his forearms- and, finally, the guy speaks again. “You… You ain’t too bad yourself, y’know.”

David blinks, confused, until he takes a slow step forward. “That so?” He asks with a hint of a grin.

The guy nods, then crosses his arms. “‘Course. I ain’t the only pretty boy here.”

“Ooh, pretty boy. That’s a new one,” David smirks, then leans against the bar. “So, pretty boy, answer me this. What would you say if I asked to sit with you?”

“Well, I’d probably ask what you’re drinkin’,” The man responds, then gestures for David to sit on the bar stool next to him. “What would your answer be, hypothetically?”

David’s smile widens, and he makes a show of thinking for a moment before speaking. “Well, if a hot guy asked me what I was drinking, I’d probably say a Manhattan with bourbon,” He teases, taking his seat. “And what would pretty boy be drinking, hm?”

“Pretty boy has a name,” He counters with a playful smirk, “and pretty boy is on his second margarita.”

Before David can respond, the man raises a hand and turns to the bartender. “‘Ey, Racer, c’mere,” he calls out, and soon, the bright-eyed blond is walking over, leaning over the bar. “Bring me two tequila shots, and a Manhattan. Bourbon.”

“On it, Cowboy,” The bartender- Antonio, or so it says on his nametag- responds with a wink.

“Cowboy,” David repeats as Antonio leaves, turning his attention to the man beside him. “Pretty boy, cowboy… You have some interesting nicknames.”

“Technically, ‘pretty boy’ ain’t a nickname. You’re the only one who calls me that, sweetheart,” The man smirks, resting his elbow against the bar.

“What else can I call you, then?” David asks, raising a brow as he leans in a bit closer- far enough away to not be in the guy’s personal space, but close enough to still hear him clearly over the booming party playlist blaring in the background.

The guy shrugs, grinning easily, then winks as he looks back at David. “You could start with ‘Jack’,” He replies.

Jack.

Such a generic name, but somehow, it’s just become the most attractive name in the history of ever.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jack,” David says with a wide grin, holding out a hand. “The name’s David.”

Jack reaches out to take David’s hand and give it a shake, and, fuck, David swears he feels sparks. He doesn’t really have time to think about it, though, considering that Antonio is back with their drinks, and Jack is smiling at David like he’s the only thing that matters.

***

An hour passes, and David finds himself particularly buzzed after a few more drinks- courtesy of Jack, who has not once left his side. They’re both just this side of tipsy, both happy and bubbly underneath the flashing lights of the bar, and are already on their cooldown; nursing cold waters and a shared appetizer to come back to at least semi-sober before they have to part ways.

Maybe part ways.

Truth be told, David would follow Jack back to his apartment in a heartbeat if Jack asked him to.

Because, well, Jack is seriously attractive. Muscles for days, a laugh that’s to die for, and there’s an underlying softness to him; he’s an artist. An actual artist. He’s a freelancer; he has a dual degree in graphic design and studio art, so he paints and makes logos and designs business cards and does murals all over the city and, wow, David falls more and more in love every second. Jack even mentioned he was going to be doing some mural at one of the libraries in the city, which made David’s heart skip a beat. A literary themed mural, done by a hot guy… David might just have to leave his own little library and venture across the city to find it.

As the clock on the wall draws ever closer to 11 p.m., David bites his lip. He glances over at Jack, who is already looking at him, and when he sees the hungry look in Jack’s eyes, he smirks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“‘Cause you’re hot,” Jack says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, “and I’m wonderin’ what it’d take to leave here with ya.”

David takes in a shuddering breath, licking his lips. “All you need to do is answer a question.”

“Oh?” Jack asks, placing a hand on David’s thigh. “And what would that question be?”

David looks him dead in the eyes. They’re both silent, energy sparking and crackling between each other; Jack’s eyes are dark, dark, dark, and David has to actively resist the urge to give in and kiss him right there against the counter. Slowly, David leans in close, lips barely brushing against Jack’s ear as he asks, “Your place or mine?”

Somehow, between one moment and the next, Jack is dragging David up the three steps into his townhouse, and as soon as the door is shut and locked with a distinct click, Jack has David pushed against the wall.

Distantly, David remembers leaving the bar- one owned by Jack’s friends, presumably, considering the fact that Antonio the Bartender and Mr. Redhead Bouncer Man both whistled when Jack escorted David out by the hand. He remembers walking down the block and turning left, and remembers the weight of Jack’s palm against his own; oddly intimate for the acts they’re about to commit, but welcome nonetheless.

But David doesn’t have time to think about that. Not as he places both hands on Jack’s cheeks and kisses him with all the passion he possesses.

Kissing Jack is exactly what David thought it would be: hot, hungry, competitive, fierce. Jack is strong, but within a few seconds, David has Jack backed against the front door, boxing the smaller man in with his arms.

“Oh, fuck,” Jack gasps as David kisses his neck, gently working the skin with just the barest bite of teeth.

David pulls back, glancing down into Jack’s dark eyes. “That’s the plan,” He says with a smirk, before diving back in to kiss Jack. It’s filthy, it’s fucking amazing, and Jack’s hands are in his hair and on his stomach and reaching around to grope his ass, pulling David ever closer.

“We need to- Bed,” Jack rasps out, but makes no move to leave the position; especially not when he leans up and begins his attack on the column of Davey’s throat. Thank God Sarah has extra makeup at David’s apartment; he’ll need it for work. Hannah might fire him on the spot if he walks into the library looking like a 'harlot'.

David taps Jack’s hip, and Jack seems to get the memo. Without breaking contact with David’s skin, Jack jumps and wraps his legs securely around David’s hips; David moans with the contact, bracing Jack with his hands as he blindly carries the man through the apartment. Had it been any other situation, David would have stopped to look around; he’s always been a sucker for interior design, and Jack has good taste.

But now, David only has one idea in mind.

Jack pulls away and gestures to a dark door, and as David opens it, he’s met with Jack’s bedroom, complete with red LED lights around the perimeter of the ceiling. How fitting, he thinks as he walks forward and all but throws Jack onto the bed. David kneels between Jack’s legs and undoes Jack’s belt with a skillful hand- he’s not at all new at this, he knows what he’s doing- and within seconds, David has Jack’s stupid, threadbare henley up and over his head, tossed precariously to a random corner of the bedroom.

Two things happen at once.

First, Jack sits up, looking more vulnerable than he’s looked during the entire night, and second, David notices the two faded surgical scars on either side of his chest, right beneath his pecs.

For a moment, everything is silent as David’s gaze flicks back to Jack’s face. He looks him again, scans his chest, and his toned stomach, and his hip bones that are jutting out under the waistband of his jeans. He's caught in his own head, stricken by how fucking hot Jack is shirtless, and he must be stuck for a few too many seconds, because--

Jack clears his throat, an awkward little sound, but one that catches David’s attention nonetheless. David looks back down and makes eye contact with Jack, who takes in a deep breath and asks, “This… Is this still alright?”

David raises a brow, and breathes, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Before Jack can respond, David pulls off his own shirt and tosses it to the side, then leans back down and kisses Jack. His hands fine Jack’s hips and he gives a harsh squeeze, which makes Jack gasp and hurry to undo the button and zipper of David’s jeans.

David doesn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, he pushes Jack down into the mattress, kissing his neck, then moving to his chest, his abs, trailing lower and lower with every movement, until Jack is panting, whining, begging, until Jack is raising his hips, until Jack is pushing his jeans down.

Until Jack is gasping for breath, thighs bracketing David’s head, moaning a mantra of, “God, yes, David, please, more, more, oh, fuck.”

***

“David! Nice to see ya, hun. Did you enjoy your weekend off?”

David looks over his shoulder as he shuts the front door. His boss, Hannah, is waving him up to the front; he walks to the counter and nods, smiling as he runs a hand through his hair. “I really needed it, yeah. Thank you, Han.”

“Sweetheart, if you ever need a break, you just let me know, okay?” She shoots him a pointed look, and smiles gently. “Go clock in, hun. We got a shipment in the back that needs to be sorted and shelved.”

“Yes, ma’am,” David responds with a grin. He drops off his leather messenger bag behind the front desk, then types his number into the keypad to clock in and log into his account. Once he’s done, David walks to the storage room in the back and stares at the piles of books in front of him.

With a smile, he grabs the first stack. Hannah called him a ‘strange boy’ once, for the very same reason. Apparently, her old employees here at Duane Street Library in downtown all hated sorting day with a passion, but David finds it relaxing. It puts him in a good mood.

Not that he needs this to be in a good mood after Friday night.

David’s hands flex around the spine of a book at the thought. God, he needs to get that out of his head. It’s been, what, two days since then, but he’s still thinking about... Jack. He needs to let go; it’s not like he’s ever going to see the guy again, right? David has no plans to go back to that bar; it was nice, but he only went because there was an event he wasn’t really interested in at the bar he usually goes to- a gay bar, with frequent drag shows and performers who know David by name. A bar that has Britney and Gaga blaring at all times, not one with classic rock.

But, well, that bar seemed like the perfect place for Jack No-Last-Name, and Jack No-Last-Name seemed to frequent it, so it’s highly unlikely that David is ever going to run into Jack No-Last-Name again. It’s a big city, and he’s just a guy from a one night stand that David desperately needed in order to give himself a release.

Figuratively and literally, he thinks.

Eugh. Gross.

Pushing Jack out of his mind, David starts stacking the books onto the rolling cart they keep in the corner. He tries to at least keep them organized- first by genre, then alphabetical- and once he has about forty books on the cart, he pulls it out into the main part of the building. He starts shelving the mystery section first; it’s closest to the storage room, and it’s fairly easy to figure everything out. This mystery section is fun; all of the book spines are hidden, as the books are shelved backwards, and the only tell is the initial of the author's name laminated on the shelves.

There is a sign next to the shelf that says, of course, if you’re looking for a specific book and don’t want to search, come find an employee, blah, blah, but for the most part their guests like this little fun thing they do. It is the mystery section, after all; it’s why they hide the titles, it’s why there’s a basket of books wrapped at the end, it’s why the wrapped books only have the author’s initials and a small, vague summary written on the back.

All very Pinterest-y ideas, but fun nonetheless.

Once all of those books are meticulously shelved, David moves onto nonfiction, and then fiction, and by the time he’s finished with A through G, he’s due for another trip back into storage. H through L follows, then M through Q, then R through Z. When he’s done with the actual alphabetized sections, he gets to start on the fun little pop-up sections throughout the library.

BookTok section; the books that TikTok has been raving about, as an effort to foster more online engagement.

Read with Pride; pride month section. Books about being queer, books about queer experiences, books with queer characters- the works.

Black Authors, Black Voices; a section that has been on display for a while, since the head of the Black Lives Matter movement, about anti-racism and being a better ally to marginalized communities.

There are a few more sections like this that he does; editing them, switching out new books in place of books that have lost traction, creating little fliers and informational cards for the tables… It’s all very nice, very niche, and very much David’s little ‘baby’- his special project. It’s why Hannah hired him; beforehand, she had been trying her hardest to modernize this little library, but she hadn’t been able to hit the nail on the head. In comes David Jacobs, a 24 year old college graduate/grad student with social media management experience and generalized knowledge of what ‘the youths’ are liking, needing a job to help pay his way through grad school…

Needless to say, Hannah basically lets David roam free and do what he needs to do. Of course, she checks off on everything he does, but the new layout and new areas and new ideas are all him.

And it’s working.

The activities that he’s coming up with are getting a lot of participation. Since coming in last year, David has been able to boost community engagement- which, in turn, boosted their annual funding, and they’ve been investing that money into upgrades. Better computers for the Media Center, better toys and activities and little knickknacks for the 'Kid’s Korner' section, better decor to make the library look more lively.

Hannah even mentioned bringing someone in to paint the kid’s section, and maybe even do a nice, Instagram-worthy mural in the Media Center, and--

“Oh, wonderful, you’re here early!”

At the sound of Hannah’s voice up front, David raises a brow. He’s near the back of the library now, and only has about ten more books to shelve, so he doesn’t bother going up to the front. He has a job to do anyway, so it’ll be fine. Distantly, though, he hears Hannah and someone laughing together, which makes David grin; Hannah is always laughing, either with someone or at someone. She’s sassy and snarky and kind of a bitch, but God, does David love her. He couldn’t imagine a better boss.

He focuses on the task at hand, deciding to take his time with it, just to let Hannah talk to whoever it is she’s talking to. Eventually, though, David pushes the cart back to the storage room and makes his way up to the front.

David rounds the corner with a smile and some pep in his step, though he stops in his tracks when he sees--

“David, this fine young man is gonna be painting our mural in the kids section!” Hannah says with a wide grin, and turns away from him. “This is David; he runs our Community Outreach programs and social media accounts, plus helps me with, y’know, sorting through the books,” Hannah explains.

She then turns to David, gesturing to the man next to her. “David, meet Jack Kelly. He’ll be in and out for the next few weeks.”

David and Jack finally make eye contact, and David sees the wide-eyed realization on Jack’s face.

“Hi,” David breathes, his hands clenching at his side.

Jack blinks. Hesitates, then raises his hand to wave. “...Hey.”

Hannah grins, and giggles between them as her hands clasp in front of her chest. “Oh, isn’t this just going to be great?”

That’s one way to put it, David thinks to himself, and by the flushed look on Jack’s face, he’s probably thinking the same damn thing.

[aremie]

𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄 ❞ ( EREN JAEGER X FEM. READER ) CH 2: SETTLING IN THE NEW REALITY.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ;; Eren is dead, your friends are dead, Annie and Armin are probably starting a new life together, Levi and Mikasa are hiding together somewhere, and you are left alone. Left alone in misery, you try to bring Eren and your friends back to life by abusing the extent of your abilities.

𝗮 / 𝗻 ;; this is inspired by wandavision, some aot manga spoilers, ending is different, eren is crystalized, reader, eren and almost everyone twenty one here.

𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗿 ;; reader has abilities like wanda maximoff, you have powers like chaos magic, manga spoilers, don't read if you don't want to be spoiled. Different ending from the manga.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. ;; this fanfic has a different ending from the manga. eren is crystalized in this one, annie and armin are living their lives before their time is up, mikasa and levi are both in hiding and you are left alone. (this is canon-divergence with a little sci-fi in this.) titans are still existent. Everyone is 21 years old. PART ONE here.

"SO WHY'D YOU join the program?" Annie Leonhart, a warrior candidate, finally spoke up after being silent for days.

"I joined due to my father forcing me to. He said that if i didn't, i would disgrace my family." You softly whispered, you didn't know anyone here and was too shy to interact with anyone.

"Oh." The blonde apathetically responded.

"What about you? Why'd you join?" You asked, being curious about the blonde's backstory.

You waited for her answer which took a few minutes for her to respond. She might have dealt with traumatic things, you thought.

"I joined for my father." She said.

"Ah." It was quiet for ten minutes but it wasn't an eerie type of silence. It was more of a comfortable silence than anything.

"My name is Annie. Annie Leonhart." She said, lifting her hand for you to shake. You smiled, immediately shaking her hand. "I'm [Y/N]. [Y/N] [L/N]."

"[L/N]? Like the House of [L/N]?" Annie asked, looking a bit shocked while you just nodded. "So that's why your father expected a lot from you." She lowly said.

"Mhm." There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as you two just sat there.

At least you made a friend, right?

"Y/N? ARE YOU alright?" Your dear boyfriend, Eren asked while you were still on bed due to just waking up. "I'm alright." You responded as you slowly got up.

"Are you sure? You were crying while asleep. Do you wanna talk about it? Armin used to tell me that to feel better, you have to talk it out with the one you love." Eren asked once again, getting worried.

There. Right there. Armin's name was enough to pull your sanity back to reality. A reality where Eren was dead, Jean and Connie are mindless titans, Armin and Annie are building a new life together, Levi is probably in hiding with Mikasa and you were left alone.

You wanted to live in denial. You needed to live in denial. You wished that you were as careless when you were a child. Back when you didn't have anything to worry about. Back with Reiner, Annie and Bertholdt. Back with Porco, Pieck and the others.

You wished that you didn't join the warrior program. You wished you disgraced the family. You wished that you were never experimented on and never get this power.

But at the same time, you wished for a peaceful life with Eren. If you never joined the program, then you would have never met Eren or Annie. Or even your closest friends.

"Y/N?"

Eren's voice brought you back to reality. No, not in reality but the reality you have made. "Hmm?" You hummed as you got out of bed.

As if the earlier scene never happened, Eren grinned and hugged you which surprised you a little bit. "Eren, are you alright?" You asked as he continued hugging you. Softening up, you hugged him back but still wondered why he was hugging you.

"I love you." He softly spoke as he nuzzled his head to your neck. Smiling, you kissed his forehead and responded, "I love you too, darling. But would you mind telling me what is up?"

Eren grumbled, but still responded. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Do you wanna talk about it? Armin used to tell me that to feel better, you have to talk it out with your lover." You repeated his words, but due to you rewinding reality, it never happened.

"Its just that. . ." Eren tried to speak up but couldn't find the right words.

"Just what?" You asked him, getting worried.

"I— I don't know. I feel trapped. Like i'm enslaved and stuck. I think something's wrong, [Y/N]." He admitted.

Rewrite.

"Its just that. . ." Eren tried to speak up but couldn't find the right words.

"Just what?" You asked him, getting worried.

"I— I don't know. I'm just worried that once we build a family, i won't be able to give us the things we need." He admitted, sighing in defeat as he laid his head down onto your lap.

You smiled softly and looked at him. "We're not yet married and you're already worrying about that?" You asked sarcastically. I mean, you were right, he hasn't proposed to you yet.

"Well, i know but—" You cut Eren off by kissing him softly. He was surprised but then kissed you back lovingly.

Maybe it's not that bad to stay in denial and live in this fake reality until the final days of your life.

"Your Majesty, there's something wrong in Shiganshina, its urgent!" One of the royal guards yelled as they ran towards the queen. Historia, being oblivious to what was happening then turned around to see five royal guards tired and sweating.

"What? What's wrong?" Historia asked hastily, not knowing why the guards were panting and sweating heavily.

"Its— Its Shiganshina, we can't seem to enter the town and even if we tried, we would get thrown away by an invisible thing! Hitch Dreyse tried to do it but disappeared!" One of the guards explained.

Historia felt nervous. What was she supposed to do? An invisible barrier banishing people out? It seemed ridiculous but she knew that they wouldn't lie to her and so she decided.

"Take me there."

"SO TELL ME, where exactly are you going?" You asked him, helping him tie his hair into a bun.

"I found a job as a doctor near our house and i need money to buy a rin—" Eren stopped himself while you just looked at him curiously.

"Money to buy a what?" You asked him, crossing your arms.

"Money to buy us food, darling!" He immediately answered. "Besides, we wouldn't be able to survive if i don't work. How could we buy the food we need if i don't work?" Eren reasoned.

"Uh, Magic?" You said. Your humor was always shitty but you were somehow saying the truth.

Eren just sighed as he kissed your forehead. "I'm heading to work." He said while you squinted your eyes.

"Alright then. See you, Love you." You said, getting curious about what he was intending to do.

"Love you too! I'll make sure to bring something home!" He lovingly said as he went to his workplace.

That was weird, you thought.

Once you were about to sit down, you heard a knock on the door. You sighed. You're not gonna get a break until the end of the day. Walking to the door, you were shocked to see a certain someone.

"Heya [N/N]!" The woman in your doorstep said.

The woman was Hitch Dreyse.

"So why can't you enter this?" Historia asked as they were all near the town that was isolated.

"Nobody knows. Some say that it had some invisible barrier. Not to mention, all civilians that lives in Shiganshina are also stuck in there." One of the guards said.

"So all civilians that lived here are also stuck in this thing?" Historia asked, feeling dread and sadness. She failed as a Queen. What was she gonna do now?

"Mhm. They are either dead or stuck there. Nobody knows. The only one who entered the town was Hitch Dreyse and none of us have heard of her wellbeing for two weeks." The guard explained.

Historia nodded and told the guard to continue as she tried touching the electrical barrier. The guards noticed and tried to stop her but before they could, she disappeared suddenly.

The guards then immediately freaked out and took out their firearms. "Your highness?!"

None of them knew that their Queen Historia was stuck in a reality that her friend had created.