#its gone. the bag is just the hole now. it has been ripped apart

[pepper-steam-milkshake]

im fine im fine im fine im fine im fine im fine im fine im fine im fine im fine

[sophisticatedyet]

if anyone's having a bad day, let me run you through what just happened to me. (content warning for rotten food.)

so, it's 1pm and I'm experiencing a wave of work-related procrastination that's enabling me to get chores done around the house, like empty the food waste bin in the kitchen into the bigger bin outside.

because it's been about a week since I last took the bins out, the food at the bottom has been in there long enough to rot causing the compostable bag its in to also start decomposing. no biggie, it happens: I grab another compostable bag, tip the bin on its head to avoid touching the icky rotting food, chuck a couple of very old bananas from the fruit bowl on the top, tie it off, and throw it in the outside food bin. great job me!

a little while later, I go to reassemble the kitchen bin and the lid's... not... there? it's not anywhere in the kitchen? the answer to the mystery where this lid has gone immediately presents itself to me, but I reject it and do another look, until I can't deny the obvious, and go check the outside bin.

to set the scene: it's a really nice, sunny day today. it feels like the first proper day of spring we've had all year. wildlife abounds: there are butterflies feeding on the cherry blossoms, the fish in the pond have come out for the first time since autumn. the bin is made of brown plastic that's warmed nicely in the afternoon rays. there's a little cloud of flies buzzing around me as I approach.

I open the bin and there, straining against the bags, is a corner of the lid.

there's nothing for it at this point, I'm not buying a whole new food bin because of my stupidity, so I rip open the first bag, BUT remember how I cleverly double-bagged the waste to avoid having to touch icky food? oh-hoho. I hate myself.

but fine. whatever. I rip open the next layer, like I'm playing the world's worst game of pass the parcel. this layer has been marinating in bin juices long enough to revert to a texture that's difficult to describe, but it's how I imagine an organ feels to the touch: slippery and wet and hot. at least it falls apart quite easily (along with my mental state).

I grab what I can of the lid and try to pull it out, but it only slides a few centimetres before jamming to a halt on the three rotting bananas that I added to the pile at the last moment. I try to wiggle them out the way but they aren't budging so I pinch one between my thumb and index finger. It's old enough that the skin slides away immediately, and my fingers sink into the meat of the banana. THIS is an easier texture to describe: it feels like warm snot. (I am reflexively crying at this point.) still, now that the skin it out the way, I can force the lid through the mucus. i have to repeat this process two more times before finally, the lid is free. (there's something on my finger, and I genuinely don't know if it's a grain of rice or a maggot.)

the saga's not entirely done, though, because the refuse collectors in my area don't take your food waste if it's not bagged, and I now have a bin full of scraps of plastic and a heap of rotten food. I use some egg shells to scoop up what i can and throw them into the gaping hole at the top of the bag and then it's I'm done.

obviously, I immediately run inside and start scrubbing my hands. something weird is happening, though: there are these spot of brown-and-yellow that just. won't. come. off. it's literally like I've super-glued rotting food to my hands?????

...I turn to look at the table.

...at the superglue I had been using thirty minutes earlier to fix a clasp on a broken box.

i am beyond tears at this point: the whole situation has gone past through horrifying into an absurdity so profound I must be dreaming.

I eventually scratch off the super-glued rotten food from my fingers (I don't know how long it takes me because I have detached myself from reality) and then wash my hands another hundred times before finally sitting back down at my computer because it's 2pm and a work day. I read half an email, before I'm interrupted by a strange noise that sounds like a gentle trickle of water. I turn around and my cat is in her litter box, butt positioned just on the edge, pissing directly onto the floor.

[flame-cat]

ok one person liked the post so here is

Raz' Mind

the inside of what looks like a massive oversized aquato dome, piled high with bags of all kinds. the floor is damp and the height of the ceiling makes you feel like an ant. hectic and cluttered.

the first time you see raz is immediately, running around sorting bags to go to certain places in his mind. upon reading the labels, they belong to various people raz cares about- lili, the interns, his family, the psychonauts. there are none belonging to raz himself that he carries. when you find one that has his name on it, he quickly throws it against an ever-growing pile stuck against a wall. the pile looks like its barely holding back a cracked brick wall that is leaking water. when asked about it, raz says he will "get to it later." you can see why- the stack he carries is at least three times as tall as him, and five times as heavy by the way he struggles with it.

if you offer to help, he'll say "really? you dont have to, ive got it handled." if you insist, he'll be extremely grateful, showing you a small pile you can start on. its not as hard as it looks, especially with multiple people. there are many shortcuts you can take as you flit around out of the tent into other areas- layouts of all of the places raz has been. its all surface-level and nothing seems wrong. the only caveat is the lack of other people.

the "raz" pile shudders ominously.

once you go through a pile, raz will thank you and give you an item- the item varies based on how many piles youve gone through. each time you sort through a pile, you need to go back to raz and ask to help again. each time he will thank you profusely, still leaving most of the work for himself. however, once a pile is sorted, another will quickly take its place; a never-ending litany of responsibilities and distractions that raz has to deal with all by himself. there is no end in sight. when asked, raz will say hed rather do this than... and trail off as he glances at his own pile.

if you try to go through the pile labelled as his, he'll quickly stop you, shouting that he can take care of that himself later. if you insist, he will be extremely nervous but say you can if you really want to- before youre suddenly accosted by enemies! hes been holding the censors, doubts, regrets, bad moods, panic attacks, and judgements back so they won't attack you, but this stressor has finally let them all out.

once you clear them out, a leak will spring in the pile. then another, and another. the tent is flooding, and raz is desperately trying to plug the holes. at this point he will finally try getting you to leave, because you "dont need to deal with this." the only sure way to move forward is to take one of the bags in the pile and open it. once opened, youre transferred inside, and you get to see whats really going on in here.

Bag #1: the Beginning

the first bag is the memory of when raz decided to run away. you enter in complete darkness, the only light coming from underneath the tent flap in front of you. you hear muffled arguing. if you go out, you see raz and his dad arguing, mr. aquato holding up a flyer. you hear the argument play out, finishing when Augustus rips apart the flyer, saying "youre no son of mine." raz looks stricken and then runs off into a tent, presumably his own.

if you follow him, you see the inside of his tent. raz quietly tells you how much that rejection hurt him, how he tried to just forget about it and move forward. he shifts aside the entrance flap of the tent and shows you a slideshow of himself alone on the road, desperately searching for the camp and eventually making his way inside.

"i made great new friends. i saved the world. i proved him wrong. he even said he was proud of me. so... why do i still...?"

he closes the entrance, and plunged into darkness, you emerge from the bag.

Bag #2: Pressure

the second bag is more of a rapid-fire collection of scenes. it begins in the rebraining room with ford. hes telling raz hes the only one who can do this. raz looks conflicted for a moment before nodding.

the scene shifts, and now we're outside of the asylum with lili. the building begins shuddering and falling apart. a giant piece falls, rushing forwards to crush the preteens-

raz falls through the darkness into the meat circus. his dad is there, much larger, and the room is flooding. if you go up the ladder, a massive chopping knife almost cleaves you in half, wielded by ollie's massive monster dad. he swings downwards again, the knife obscures your vision-

raz opens his eyes in loboto's laboratory in the rhombus of ruin. the water is climbing, hes still strapped down, and no one else is able to help. the camera zooms out, out, out. hes alone in here. the camera goes up, and you emerge from the water...

now youre in trumans grotto. truman is telling raz that he cant tell anyone about maligula. the scenes only alteration are the puppet strings truman holds tied to raz. the boy nods. the camera turns, going behind truman, and he turns into...

ford cruller, this time at green needle gulch. once more telling raz he's the only one who can help him.

raz turns and sees the deluge. he runs into the forest, narrowly dodging water and heavy objects. raz's voice cuts through the cacophany:

"i know it doesnt matter now, but..."

a hand reaches towards him from a cyclone, yanks him in, hes drowning, hes...

the scene fades to black. raz's voice, again, hesitant and small:

"... i was really scared."

and out of the bag you go.

Bag #3: Judgement

the third bag is small and short. raz is sitting alone in a void, curled up, knees tucked close to his body. he looks very small. in the background are voices, all things hes heard before.

"... only problem was YOU..."

"... wouldnt have FOUND you..."

"... betrayed the family..."

if approached, raz says this:

"i have to be better."

and out you go.

[jacklesdilf]

2.43 AM

18+ only! minors dni!

pairing: frank castle x reader

warnings: f/m sex, piv, edging, choking, no foreplay, pussy slapping, rough sex, unprotected sex

summary: frank has been away on a mission and you miss him inside you

“when are you coming back?” you whine at your phone.

“as soon as i can, sweetheart” frank answered from the other side.

“but i miss you so much” you pleaded.

“i know, i miss you too” frank’s been gone for two weeks now. out on a new mission in washington.

“i miss feeling you,” you teased. “on me, next to me, inside me” you whispered to the phone. you can hear frank’s audible groan through the phone.

“dont do this to me baby, im coming home tomorrow morning,” he grunts.

“need you,” you moaned as your fingers circling on your clit. “now”

a switch in franks brain just clicked. he can hear your moans. he can hear your wetness squelching against your fingers. he need you. now.

“wait for me baby,” he said as he hung up abruptly.

“what the-“ you felt offended by the way he hung up. little did you know, frank quickly gather all his stuff and drive his truck back to you.

its 2.43 am. you hear a knock on your door. frank told you to never open the door in these ungodly hours. but you retrieve the gun he gave you and walk up to the door. you peeked through the peephole and see franks face. you opened the door so quick and he rush to your face. kissing you very passionately. you wrap your hands around his neck. the gun still on your hand. frank drops his duffle bag that he was holding, his hand went and lifts your ass. causing you to wrap your legs on his waist. he walks further into your apartment and kicking the door shut behind him. your body weight feels like nothing when he carries you. your hand reached a table and put the gun down on it. now moving your hand freely on franks face. feeling every cuts and bruises on his beautiful face.

frank brings you all the way to your couch. dropping your back on the couch softly.

“i miss you so much” you said between kisses.

“hmm” he grunts.

your hands find their way to his belt and quickly unbuckle it. he pull the belt off his pants as you unzip his pants. then you feel his belt wrapped around your neck. frank buckle it around your neck without breaking the kiss. your hands pumped his dick eagerly.

“you miss me, sweetheart?” his voice dark.

“yes” you gasped as he tug on the belt around your neck. still making sure its not too tight around your neck.

“you touch yourself when im away?” his free hand find its way to your dripping cunt. covered in your soaked panties. lightly slapping it.

“mmhm,” you moaned.

“did i allow you to do so?” he rip off your panties off you.

“no, sir” you yelped as he slapped your now unclothed and throbbing cunt.

“then why’d you do it, whore?” he tugs on the belt harder.

“want.. you..” you answered short breathlessly.

“yeah? want my cock in you?” he teased.

“mhmm” you hums.

“use your words, whore” he commanded. his hand already lining his tip to your aching hole.

“i want your cock in me, frank” you said as you pull his head to kiss his face. franks hips thrusts hard in you. giving you no time to adjust to his girth. not having him in two weeks makes you forget how big he is.

“ah!” you screamed to the crook of his neck. you’ve never took him in so quick without any foreplaying.

“feels good, whore?” he grunts. “this what you want?”

your mouth is wide opened. tears welling on your eyes. franks hips never slows down. he continued to fuck you mercilessly. after a while the pain starts to subside and pleasure starts to rise. you dig your nails harder to his bicep.

“frank” you moaned as you feel your orgasm rising.

“so early, sweetheart?” he teased.

“im gonna-“ he cuts you as he tugs on the belt again.

“youre gonna cum when i tell you to cum” he commands. “you got it?”

“yes-“ you couldnt finish your words while holding in your release.

“yes what?” he asked.

“yes..sir..”

“attagirl” he grunts into your ear.

his grip on the belt gets tighter. his other hand palmed your stomach to stop you from squirming under him. his hips move at an unstoppable rate. the sound of skin on skin contact fills your whole apartment. your legs wrapped around his hips letting him go as deep as he can into you.

“i cant-“ you gasped. “too much”

he pull out from you abruptly. your hole missing the feeling of his dick filling it. as you tried to catch your breath, his hand grabs your hips and flips you over. face down laying on the couch. he hikes your ass up in the air. his hand rubs your cheek softly and then slapping it harshly. you squealed at the stinging sensation across your asscheek.

without a warning, he rams his dick in you again.

“god, frank” you yelped.

“such a good little whore” he tugs the belt around my neck which he forgotten he had put there. i gather the strength to hold myself up with my hands. trying not to let the belt choke me.

“so good, baby” he praised.

on all fours now, your hands and legs about to give out. frank’s rhythm hasnt show signs of slowing down. tears dripping down your face and a string of curse words fall out from your mouth.

“frank” you moaned.

“yes, baby” he grunts. you can tell hes getting close by the way his breaths falters.

“i cant-“ you gasped for air in between your words, “any longer-“

“cum for me, baby”

your hands collapsed as you let your orgasm rush through you. coating franks dick in pure wetness. your walls milking his dick. your scream filling the room. frank continues to ride you through your high.

“fuck you’re so tight” he grunts.

“cum in me, frank” you moaned as he continue to overstimulate you.

“fuck” he mumbles under his breath. you can feel his dick twitch inside your walls. his hips bucked as he thrusts into you one more time before releasing his seeds deep inside you. you tightened your walls around him to milk every last drop of him.

he collapsed on your back as his seeds are filling you.

“oh my fucking god” he groans.

“holy shit, frank” you mumble as you both catch your breath.

“dont you dare do that shit again” he said as he lifts himself up and pull his dick out of you.

“hmm, maybe i will” you chuckled lightly.

“fuckin, whore” he slaps your bare ass one more time before carrying you to your bed.

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Abby Anderson x GN!Reader - Please Don’t Leave Me

Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt: Please Don’t Leave Me (I’m creative with my titles)

Can be found on AO3 here.

Setting: before Abby leaves to go golfing. Abby and the reader are in an established relationship.

Warning: angst angst angst, excessive usage of the f-bomb and discussions of murder.

(Y/N) replacer safe.

Word count: 1846

Fuck, she’s really doing this.

Every day since Isaac had granted the Salt Lake Crew leave to hunt down Joel Miller, you tried to bargain with Abby, tried to make her see some sense. That killing him won’t take away any of the pain she feels. The grief. The gaping hole in her heart. But she’d always brush you off, distancing herself from you, suppressing her emotions with bicep curls and crunches as per habit.

Each passing hour, a nail was hammered into the coffin of the woman you love. And this morning is the final nail.

The quaint apartment you call home is filled with a cacophony of rustling and pleas as Abby shovels supplies into her backpack, preparing for her hunt. In her mind, Joel’s death warrant is signed, the execution nigh. And God are you desperate, trying to drill some semblance of reality into her stubborn mind one last time before she embarks on a journey she’ll only regret.

“Abby, please just listen to me for one minute—”

“I need to do this.” She heads to your small shared closet, refusing to look at you from your position by the bed. You frantically try to intercept her path, knowing full well she’s much, much stronger and can reposition you with ease. But it’s worth a try.

“This isn’t going to solve anything,” you implore, clutching the wood.

“Move, (Y/N).”

“Abby, this isn’t going to bring him back. You know that.”

“Move.” Her tone is exasperated, utterly focused on packing her shit and promptly leaving. Your heart sinks to your stomach.

“That girl in the hospital. The immune one. She must have been like a daughter to him for Joel to kill a group of innocent people for her,” you plead, feet firmly planted on the floor. Searching for her eyes, those blue irises alight with a maelstrom of hateful determination. They meet yours. “Killing him will just put her through all of this.”

Abby reaches for the closet door and slowly pulls it open, acknowledging your reluctance to move, deciding to disregard it. The wood begins to dig into your back and you’re forced to step aside. “This isn’t going to end, Abby. You fucking know this.” As she folds some spare clothes and places them in her backpack, you fall gracelessly to the bed, needing to sit down. Bile climbs up your oesophagus. Shit, where was her sense of fucking empathy?

“Abby…” Once again, she doesn’t so much as spare you a glance, folding the garments in robotic fashion. “Abby, you said she was a kid. A kid.”

The final shirt is stuffed haphazardly into the bag. She grits her teeth and turns to you. “He killed dozens of Fireflies, (Y/N). Dozens. And that’s all we fucking know of. There could be hundreds of others because he’s a stone cold killer.” Her face flushes with anger, no remnants of the woman you know left behind. “No one person is worth that many fucking lives.”

You let out a breathy laugh in sheer disbelief. “But it’s not about them, is it? Not to you.” The words escaped you in a hiss, one that didn’t go unnoticed. “Never fuckin’ has been.”

Abby rolls her eyes and grabs her maps from the coffee table, iron fist crumpling the papers beyond legibility. “There could have been a cure. A fucking cure to all this.”

On the surface, her words are rational. One life for a cure that would save millions was a worthy sacrifice, that you would be foolish to deny. But the odds of developing this cure were slim, and the girl would have likely died in vain. You knew this. Abby knew this. Jerry knew this.

With a shaky breath, you cradle your arms, never before having felt the urge to cage yourself around Abby. Fingers firmly gripping at your elbows, you let the cards fold. Unadulterated truth.

“You’re in denial, Abigail.”

A tut. “Don’t you fucking ‘Abigail’ me.” Her previous efforts to maintain a steady tone have been vanquished, anger seeping into each progressing word.

She’s gone.

And it’s this precise revelation that fills your eyes with oceans. Throat closing up, nose burning with the urge to spill over, you attempt – attempt – to articulate yourself, to no avail. Seconds later, rivulets trickle from your eyes to your cheeks, and you find yourself sniffling like some stupid kid… No, not a kid. A grieving adult, bereaved by the loss of a lover. Because the other figure in the room is but a husk of the radiant soul you fell for.

“All…” You pause to inhale, deeply: a futile effort to regulate your breathing, to lay rest to the turmoil suffocating your ability to fucking think. “All that’s going to happen is… You’re going to have to—” Hiccupping, you close your eyes, praying no more tears would fall. “To live with the guilt of orphaning a kid.”

Sentence finally out, you surrender to your sorrows, allowing them to wrack your chest with sobs and heaves until it gets too much, salt freely spilling from the floodgates. You can’t…you won’t bring yourself to look at Abby – the machine in her place, one programmed to kill and kill alone.

It’s wholly terrifying.

Distress flickers in her eyes, her frown slackening for a fraction of a second at the sound of your despair. “No one is forcing you to come,” she puts plainly, as if that has anything to do with the issue at hand.

“You know this – isn’t about that. Fuck, even Owen knows this…this is a bad idea.” Too dejected to cry. Too dejected to battle the hitched breaths you take trying to force out the words.

Words that fall upon deaf ears. “That’s not what Owen told me.” She slots a Swiss army knife into her cargo pants’ pocket, headed with a canteen in hand towards the kitchenette. “He was there, (Y/N). He agreed that Joel needs to die.”

“Because he’s fucking scared of you!” We all are, nearly breaks free from your lips, but that’s not what Abby needs to hear right now. Nothing that will push her away. Further away. The reigns you have on your lover are fraying, leaving you grasping at nought but strings. Frenzied, you attempt a softer, less concrete approach. “Baby, it isn’t normal to be so…hellbent on revenge like this.”

Silence. The delicate trickle of water sounds from the faucet as Abby fills her canteen. Then, a sigh, one of frustration as opposed to defeat. “If you think calling me ‘baby’ is going to erase four motherfucking years of grief, you are sorely mistaken. You’re smarter than that.”

Patience thinning, you stand up, wading through strewn supplies across the apartment floor towards the kitchenette. “Four years and you still haven’t given yourself time to mourn properly,” you reason, deliberately obstructing her path out of the kitchen with your body again. “Maybe if you had you’d see some fucking sense.”

God, that was a mistake. Shit, shit, shit shit shit the last thing you want to do is piss her off, not with her mind in such a volatile state, devoid of all logic.

“I appreciate you’ve lived a fucking sheltered life since the outbreak,” she seethed. What?

“That’s not true—”

“And you have no fucking idea what it’s like to have someone ripped away from you like that.” Volume rising, words a mantra fuelled by detest. “And you know, maybe, just fucking maybe, this’ll be my one chance to put an end to this shit!” The fist not clutching her backpack clenches. And for the first time ever while alone in her company, you flinch.

“He fucking deserves this, (Y/N)! If I can show him a fraction of the pain he caused me—”

“Abby, you’re scaring me,” you whimper, closing in on yourself. Genuinely afraid she’d raise her hand towards you.

Had you a mirror, you’d know truly how perturbed you look in this very moment. Streamlines drying on your cheeks, eyes reddening and puffy from crying, wide with fear like a doe face-to-face with a moving car. Body subconsciously making itself smaller, reducing its surface area, reducing the likelihood for any incoming swings to hit.

She lowers her guard, colour returning to her knuckles as she unravelled her fist. Knitted brows returning to their natural place above her eyes, mouth parted as the horror of her behaviour settles in.

“You know I would never hurt you, right?” Even her previously stern voice cracks at this.

It takes tremendous willpower to not fall back as she takes a tentative step towards you.

Drying your eyes with your sleeves – her sleeves…you forgot you’re wearing her old sweater, the notion sour on your tongue – you break your mutual gaze. “You’re not you right now,” you whisper, not trusting your larynx to produce anything above a mouse’s squeak. “This isn’t the Abby I know.”

For the first time this morning, a sentiment other than bloodlust registers in her face. Hurt.

Either unable or unwilling to respond, Abby recommences her packing in solemn silence.

Shit, you have three, perchance five minutes at best to dissuade your girlfriend from leaving and doing something that will haunt her for all eternity. Yet all you can do is brace yourself against the wall and allow a second tsunami of tears to wash over you, pangs of anguish striking your heart. “Abby—”

“I’m going, (Y/N).” Firm, with a shred less conviction, but firm enough.

A violent sob tears through you as you beg, beg, the vessel of the woman you adore, “Please don’t leave me.”

For a fleeting moment, your heart stops as she hesitates in her tracks. A flicker of hope seizes your mind, that perhaps she has reconsidered, that finally some logic has entered her train of thought.

It all crashes down when she reaches for the spare rifle ammunition by the front door.

“Fuck, Abby—”

“I’ll be gone a month at most.”

Hail-Mary.

Hail-Mary.

Please.

Chest shuddering with each sob that wracks through you, you utter through violently trembling lips and hiccups, “You’re so – fucking blinded – by your hatred – right now – that you can’t – fuck, see – this will – kill you—”

The gravity of the situation threatens to make your knees buckle.

Abby plucks her jacket from the coat hanger and wades over to your crippled stance by the kitchen. A hand brushes your salt-slicked cheek as a lock of hair is swept out of your line of sight. “I love you,” she whispers in pained honesty.

“Abby…” You try to take her hand, to ground her, to remind her of the life she’s leaving behind on her relentless pursuit of this warped sense of justice.

“Goodbye, (Y/N).” She squeezes your palm and lets go, zipping up her pack as the front door to the apartment creaks open and slams shut.

Death is a word that isn’t used lightly, especially not after an epidemic takes the world by storm. But part of your spirit certainly died the moment that door closed behind her.

(I’ll leave it up to you whether she has a change of heart or leaves and scores a few hits above par.)

[curlynerd]

Happy Birthday, Cas! Word Count: 3K Rating: T Summary: Appalled that Cas has never had a birthday party before, Jack drags Dean into his schemes to plan a surprise party for him. Dean finally works up the courage to tell Cas how he feels. Notes: love confessions, first kiss, lots of fluff, and lots of Cas' family showing up much they care

Also read on AO3!

"You've never celebrated Cas' birthday?!" Jack exclaimed by way of greeting at -- Dean groaned and rolled over to check the time. -- 6:47 in the morning.

"Jack..." Dean sighed, dragging his hand down his face and sitting up in bed. "We've been over this. You promised not to come barging in here until at least 8:30."

"Huh?" Jack titled his head at Dean before his gaze trailed over to the bedside clock. "Oh. Sorry. I forgot to check the time."

"All those God powers and you can't even conjure up a watch?" Dean grumbled as he threw the sheets off his legs and planted his feet on the floor. "Now what were you saying about Cas?"

"His birthday!" Jack's expression was too damn excitable for this early in the morning. "I was telling him about how we celebrated my birthday after Mrs. Butters left, and I asked him about his birthday, and he said he'd never celebrated one before!"

Dean frowned at Jack. This was what he was woken up for? "Kid, I don't think he has one. The dude's older than calendars."

Jack was undaunted. "Yeah, but he was born, right? Even angels are born."

Okay, it was way too early for existential questions. He needed coffee. Dean grunted his acknowledgment and dragged himself to his feet. "Did Cas say when his birthday was?"

"Well, no." Jack furrowed his brow for just a second before his face lit up in enthusiasm. "Why don't we celebrate today?"

Dean stared at Jack. Jack's eyes were wide and sincere and full of love, just like his dad's. And, apparently, just as effective. "Alright..." Dean said with a defeated sigh. Who was he to deny the kid a chance to make his dad happy? "Whacha wanna do for his birthday?"

Jack beamed. "A surprise party! With cake!"

"Yeah, I figured as much." Dean scrubbed at his hair and wiped the last of the sleep out of his eyes as he shuffled his feet into his slippers. "Coffee first, though. Then the store."

"What kind of cake should we make?" Jack asked an hour later, as he and Dean pondered every box mix the grocery store had to offer.

“Hmm…” Dean eyeballed the box of funfetti mix. Jack would probably like that one best. It had sprinkles baked in. Dean kind of wanted a classic chocolate cake. And Cas, well. He wouldn’t care. He’d probably take two bites at most, just to appease Jack.

“This one.” Dean’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he reached for a box and held it out for Jack.

“Angel food cake?” Jack read.

Dean nodded, his grin widening at his little joke. “Yeah! It’s special. Angels love it, ya know.”

Jack tilted his head at Dean, then the box, before a smile bloomed across his face. “You gave me angel food cake once. I really liked it! Is that why you got it for me?”

Dean thought back to that drive, and his little snack cakes morality test. “Yup. That was definitely why.” He snatched the box from Jack’s hand and tossed it into the cart before he could ask more questions. “Let’s wrap this up before Cas wonders why we’ve been gone so long.”

If Cas was ignorant of Jack’s birthday plans before, he wasn’t for long. Neither Dean nor Jack thought to do much to conceal the contents of their shopping bags when they returned home. Or figure out a way to keep Cas from wandering the bunker. So when he stumbled upon the two of them hauling bags toward the kitchen, both Dean and Jack traded suspicious glances.

“Dean and I will be in the kitchen for awhile,” Jack said seriously, cutting straight to the chase. “Do not come in there though!”

“Oh?” Cas’ gaze flickered down to their bags. A package of birthday hats stuck out of the opening of one. A canister of rainbow sprinkles was nestled at the top of another. His mouth twitched as his eyes softened with warmth. When they met Dean’s eyes, Dean’s stomach did a flip. Cas’ eyes grew even warmer.

‘He loves you,’ Dean’s thoughts helpfully supplied at the worst possible moment, ensuring Dean’s face burned with a fierce blush right as Cas looked his most adoring. Dean hastily averted his gaze.

Cas hadn’t been back from the Empty for long, only a couple of weeks really. But it felt like an eternity.

Because Dean hadn’t told him yet. He hadn’t looked him in the eyes and said ‘I love you too.’ Hadn’t dragged him in by the lapels of his stupid trenchcoat and kissed him senseless. Hadn’t held him close and promised him that he could have Dean, all of him, for as long as he wanted to keep him.

The moment had never been right. There were always people around. Jack. Sam. So many of their friends, eager to see them and celebrate their victory over Chuck and their newfound freedom. Things were only now starting to quiet down, and still Dean hadn’t worked up the courage to tell him.

“It’s for a surprise,” Jack continued, pulling Dean from his thoughts. “Er, not a surprise! We’re not planning any surprises!” Dean barely controlled his eyeroll. The kid really needed to work on his lying. “It’s something you can’t know about until later. So don’t even think about peeking!”

Cas and Dean traded knowing looks. Dean shrugged a little. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cas assured Jack.

Jack brightened. “Great! Come on, Dean. Let’s go!” He practically skipped toward the kitchen, radiating enthusiasm with every step. Dean sighed and followed after him, already anticipating the huge mess at the end of all this. At least it was just box mix. That was easy enough to handle.

As it turned out, even box mix wasn’t foolproof.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Jack asked in concern. He poked at the misshapen mess of their cake.

“Probably not.” Dean shrugged. It was a disaster zone, is what it was. Apparently angel food cake required a special pan. It looked similar enough to a bundt pan, though, so Dean thought it was an okay substitute. Clearly not. Or maybe they overmixed it? Was that why it sunk into this lumpy, craggy mess and then fell apart when they tried to shake it out of the pan?

“But ya know, homemade cake never looks as fancy as the stuff you get at the store, but it tastes just as good.” He slapped Jack on the back. “Put some frosting on this thing, maybe some decorations, and we’re golden.”

And so they set to work. Jack clearly had a vision of what he wanted, pulling supplies from the pantry to add to the disaster cake. He insisted on covering it in a thick layer of chocolate frosting, even though Dean tried to tell him angel food cake didn’t usually need it. It was vital to what he was creating. A full hour passed, and somehow the thing looked even worse than when it first flopped out of the pan.

“Cas is gonna love it,” Dean said anyway, because he knew it was true. Jack beamed with pride.

“At what point am I no longer banned from the kitchen?” Almost as if on cue, Cas’ voice called out from down the hallway. “Am I allowed to walk past it? I’d like to go into the library.”

“You can come in!” Jack yelled back, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

Dean looked around at the decoration-less kitchen, the party hats and the balloons still in their packaging. “Wait, hold on--” he began, but it was too late.

“SURPRISE!” Jack shouted as Cas rounded the corner. “Happy birthday, Cas!”

“A surprise for me?” Cas didn’t even seem to notice that the only things in the kitchen were a weird brown blob of cake and a massive mess. He was smiling from ear to ear at Jack with that special, endeared smile parents reserved just for their children. “But I told you I didn’t have a birthday,” Cas said. Which he and Jack had talked about literally hours ago. Before Jack raced off to talk with Dean and plan an impromptu trip to the store before baking all morning.

Yeah. Cas definitely knew what Jack was planning today.

“Well, Jack decided today was your birthday. So, happy birthday.” Dean shrugged a little in a ‘Kids. What can ya do?’ sort of way.

Cas’ expression softened. “Today is a perfect day for a birthday.”

“We made a cake!” Jack bounded over to Cas and practically dragged him to the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?”

“It is…” Cas frowned and knit his eyebrows together at the monstrosity before him. “An inside-out hedgehog?”

“It’s a Sarlacc Pit!” Jack exclaimed while Dean clutched at the table, doubled-over with laughter. Jack pointed out the pretzel rods jutting out around the misshapen, lumpy hole in the center of the sunken cake. They’d done their best to make the chocolate frosting around it look like smooth sand, but of course it was way too brown. And bits of warm cake kept breaking off while they iced it. “That’s its teeth, and that’s the sand. It’s a Star Wars cake!”

“Oh, of course it is!” Cas said generously. He patted Jack’s shoulder. “It’s wonderful, Jack. And Dean.” He nodded at Dean, who was still trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah we’ve got ourselves the next Cake Boss over here. If the God thing doesn’t work out.” Dean’s voice rippled with laughter. He snatched up the bag of party hats and ripped it open. Cas looked exceedingly tolerant as Dean snapped one on his head with an impish grin. “So birthday boy, whacha wanna do on your special day?”

“Oh I know!” Jack exclaimed. His enthusiasm was infectious. “First we’ve gotta…”

The day wound up being more about Jack than Cas. Or rather, Jack doing all the things he loved to do with Cas. There was a Star Wars movie marathon. There was cake. There were more board games than Dean had played in a lifetime. Dean had a sneaking suspicion Cas let Jack win most of them.

But Cas had smiled almost non-stop the entire day, probably more than Dean had seen the entire thirteen years since he’d met him. And yeah, Dean knew why. What was better to do on his birthday than spend time with his kid?

By the end of the day, even Cas was looking a little tired. Dean was absolutely exhausted. He was half-tempted to drag himself to bed early, but when Jack finally retired to his own room to give Dean and Cas some time together, there wasn’t any hesitation about settling down in his favorite armchair, Cas beside him, with two glasses of Dean’s favorite whiskey to share.

The drink was warming through his limbs, but the light in Cas’ eyes was warmer. He looked content, if not a little overwhelmed by all the love his little family had shown him today. Dean leaned back in his chair and let the peacefulness of the moment wash over him.

“You know, it’s serendipitous Jack chose today for my birthday.” Cas smiled down at his glass.

Dean cracked a sleepy eye open. “Yeah? Why?”

“Well, today is the anniversary of the day I raised you from perdition.”

Dean stared at Cas. Cas eyes twinkled with nostalgia. “Really?” Cas nodded, and Dean laughed. “Well then I suppose it’s really my re-birthday.”

Cas chuckled. “I’ll remind Jack to bake two cakes next year.” They fell into easy silence, nursing their drinks as they reflected on the years.

“It really is a good birth date,” Cas said awhile later. “I may have been alive for eons before then, but the day I met you was when I changed...That was when I really started living.”

Dean’s heart leapt into his throat, Cas’ love confession ringing in his ears. “Didn’t I stab you?” he joked weakly, deflecting the spiraling nerves that bubbled up in his chest.

Cas laughed. “Yes. Yes, you did. I didn’t realize it at the time, but even then you were making me feel. Mostly confusion,” he added with a wry twist of his lips. “I saved you from eternal damnation, and you repaid me by stabbing me in the chest!” Despite his amusement, Cas’ eyes were overflowing with warmth and affection. Dean could almost read the thoughts going on behind them. ‘I fell a little bit in love with you right then.’

“What can I say? I have that effect on people.” ‘Now,’ his thoughts urged. ‘Tell him now!’ “I dunno what I’d have done without you,” Dean mused around a sip of whiskey. A little more liquid courage. A little more and he could do this.

“Another angel would have been sent. You would have been pulled from Hell anyway.”

“Not what I meant, Cas,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “All of it. All the crap we’ve been through. All the crap Chuck put us through. Put me through.” He watched the way the warm lamplight reflected off his drink. “I...I’m glad I had a best friend through it all. You know?”

“Yes,” Cas said, but there was a twinge of sadness in his voice that made Dean look up. He was smiling softly, but the longing in his eyes was impossible to miss.

Dean sighed. His gut churned with fear and guilt and yearning. He knew Cas loved him. And he knew he loved Cas. Hell, he’d known that for a helluva lot longer than he’d known of Cas’ feelings. He just needed one little push to make him confront those feelings head-on.

“Ya know, I think I have one more present for you.” Dean set his glass down with heavy meaning. He nodded to himself and stood up, his jaw set firm, his eyes determined.

“You do?” Cas started to ask. “What--” And before he could finish his sentence, Dean crawled into the chair with him, his knees straddling Cas’ hips, bracing himself against the backrest with one hand. Cas’ eyes went huge. “Dean?” His voice trembled.

Dean was pretty sure he looked even more nervous, but he’d be damned if he owned up to it. “Hey birthday boy,” he hummed, forcing a flirtatious smile despite the anxiety pounding in his chest. He was going to kiss Cas. God how he wanted to kiss Cas.

But instead of looking delighted Cas looked...hurt. “Dean, you don’t have to do this for me.”

Dean’s heart went cold. “For you? You don’t think I want this?”

“No,” Cas said simply. Honestly. His bright blue eyes were so close now, but the heartache in them was almost painful to look at.

Dean swallowed thickly. “Well then you’re dumber than you look,” he teased, forcing bravado he did not feel. Dean leaned in until his forehead rested against Cas’. He could feel Cas’ warm breath across his lips. “Cas, if I could pick anyone in the whole damn world to be with, it’d be my best friend. You know that, right?” Cas licked his lips. Dean yearned to tilt his head down and catch them with his own. “But I thought you didn’t...Couldn’t...Well, I thought love wasn’t something angels did.”

“But I told you, Dean. When the Empty came, I told you--”

“Yeah I know. But you know how I drag my ass for important stuff.” That finally elicited a tiny puff of laughter from Cas. Dean smiled. “Come on, man. Cut me some slack. Lemme use this as an excuse to nut up and kiss you.”

As it turned out, Dean didn’t need to, because Cas surged up and pressed their lips together.

Dean gasped into the kiss as his hand resettled itself on Cas’ shoulder. Cas’ glass clattered as he hastily set it on the table in order to hold Dean’s waist with both hands. Cas kissed like he was starving for it, voracious and desperate, licking his way into Dean’s mouth without preamble and moaning deeply into the heat he found there.

Dean gave as good as he got, letting over a decade of longing finally escape through the hot, greedy press of their lips together, through the long trailing kisses along Cas’ jaw while Cas dragged his hands down Dean’s back and up underneath his shirt.

“We should...do this in my room…” Dean whispered in Cas’ ear as his teeth nipped at the sensitive area. Cas nodded and, without warning, stood up with Dean still wrapped around him. Dean startled and reflexively jerked his feet down toward the floor, though he realized with delight that Cas could almost certainly carry him the entire way if he wanted. Later. He’d test that out later. For now Dean grabbed Cas by the tie with a lecherous twinkle in his eye and hauled him in the direction of his bedroom. Soon to be their bedroom, if Dean had anything to say about it.

Much, much later, when they were tangled together beneath the sheets with Dean’s head nestled on Cas’ chest, Dean realized that Cas had been wrong. Because his happiest moment wasn’t when the Empty took him away. It wasn’t in just saying how he felt.

Because it was in loving, yes, but it was also in being loved.

Because when Dean peeked up at Cas’ face, he was radiating so much happiness Dean’s heart ached from it. Today was the happiest he’d ever been. And perhaps tomorrow, if Dean had anything to say about it, tomorrow he’d be even happier.

Cas’ eyes were full of love as he carded his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I know I don’t have any others to compare this against, but today was a very good birthday.”

“Good.” Dean pressed a sleepy kiss to Cas’ skin as his eyes drifted closed. “You deserve it.”

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Yellow Lines

This was requested by @onechicagomayan who asked for this:

<He how are you? I hope so. I wanted to ask you if you could make a request with miguel? And if so, in which reader is a federal and falls in love with miguel, when he catches him she is forced to use the yellow raincoat but then she tells him that she is pregnant. In this story miguel is with emily, and if you could put some dialogue in spanish.

Thanks and sorry and if I made a bad explanation you can write to me.

I love your writing, a kiss.>

Hope you like this and its what you were looking for.

Warnings: Talks of cheating (I don’t agree with cheating, this is just for fic purposes). yellow rain coat and hot oil angst, does get a little intense and of course a mostly happy ending. I used goggle for the pinch of Spanish I used, so sorry if it's wrong.

WC: 1867

Enjoy x

Your palms were sweaty and the heat of dread raged through you fast, your heart beating out of your chest. It was only a matter a time before you were put into a situation that you could lose your badge, and here you were. The files on the Galindo’s built higher and higher and eventually it was time for you and Jane to be put in undercover when the opportunity arose. You had read every file back-to-back more than once; you were briefed on certain things and you had to check in once a week.

An ad appeared wanting a new personal assistant for the cartel boss and a nanny for his son. Everything had been set up, you applying for assistant, which you got and Jane for the Nanny which she got. Moving onto the grounds the following week to get as much intel as you could to finally get Miguel arrested and bring down his empire.

It was in the first week that you had realised that the Miguel you had read about and had been briefed about was not the Miguel you had started working for. He was just a business man in a dark world that sometimes did horrible things, but mostly he was a gentleman, easy to talk to and the stories he told you about his life before and after he started on this road intrigued you. Slowly over time, he started to open up about his marriage and how much they were struggling, he worried about business all the time and Emily getting involved with and in things he didn’t want her too and mostly how the lies had started to rip them apart.

It only took one over night in Mexico for the relationship to cross that line and although you both said the next morning it couldn’t happen again after waking up in each other’s arms, it did two to three times a week and now you were waiting for the timer to go off as you sat on the toilet of your bathroom, feeling like you were going  to be sick if that white stick showed what you thought it was going too. Your boss was already on your back about more intel, Jane having more than you and she just looked after the baby. But you were in love with Miguel, yes you were doing the wrong thing every time he laid on top of you, but now there was no turning back.

You reached for the stick on the counter, picking it up. You took a deep breath and turned it over, the word ‘pregnant 4-6weeks ’ in thick black letters on the tiny screen. Your stomach dropped and the tears fell, that was your career gone for 10 minutes of pleasure. You had to pull yourself together, you had a meeting with Miguel and one of the Galindo’s major buyers in 30 minutes. As you went to open your room door you were met with Nestor and Paco, both their faces cold,

“Y/N, you need to come with us”

“Is everything-“

“Let’s go, you know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting”

You were even more confused when you saw Maria walk out into the backyard with Christobel instead of Jane. Nestor opened the car door for you and Paco got in the driver’s seat, he driving you towards the dress factory. Your heart started to pound in your chest and your stomach flip flopped as Nestor lead you towards the back room, Paco behind you. You had read all about this very room, but up until now, never been in it.

Nestor opened the door and you stepped in, fear filling you when Miguel whipped his head towards you, a look on his face that you had never seen before, Jane tied to his church pure and a portable stove with a pot on it next to him. You jumped when you heard the door slam shut and you saw the look wash over Nestor’s face when he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards Miguel,

“How long did you think it would take for me to find out?” Miguel raised his eye brow at Jane and then turned to you “Ven Y/N, ahora”

Nestor pulled you to Miguel and your body filled with fear when his hand went to your cheek, his eyes were filled with rage and you heard Jane’s sobs. Nestor walking to the set up turning on the stove and started to stir the pot,

“Miguel” you chocked “What’s going on?”

“Please, don’t treat to me like a fool. They put you in my house and you worm your way into my bed” his lips came to your ear and his hand left your cheek and went to your arm “You think because I had my cock in your mouth and I told you my feelings I would spare you when I found out” Miguel stepped away from you, walking to the pew grabbing the yellow rain coat that was hanging off the end of it and handing it to you “Put this on mi amor, show me how much you love me now” he barked.

Your hands started to shake and tears ran from your eyes,

“Miguel, please” you begged.

“Now” he yelled, his voice echoing in the room. You quickly put it on and Miguel grabbed your arm pulling you towards the pot making you look at it and you saw the boiling oil “You’re going to pour that to her and then Nestor will take care of you”

“Miguel” you sobbed.

“What did you think was going to happen? I’ am Miguel Galindo. Do you think the FBI is smarter than me? They should have trained their agents better, to not leave flies laying around where they can be seen”

“I’ am pregnant” you cried out.

“Liar” Miguel snarl.

“Por favor Miguel, I’ am not”

Miguel looked down at you and then nodded at Nestor who left the room. Miguel told you the follow him after he ripped the yellow rain coat off you throwing it on the floor and whispered something to Paco on the way past. Miguel guided you to a small office in the back of the factory and locked the door, walking to the small fridge grabbing a bottle of water,

“Why?” Miguel had his back to you “I let you in. I trusted you”

“Miguel, you can still trust me. I read the files. On paper you’re a horrible man but when I got to know you. You know how I feel”

“Just words” You muttered back.

“No Miguel. I meant everything I said” you walked up to him putting your hands on his back.

“I need to know what you told them”

“Nothing” you kissed his shoulder.

“Stop. Tell me now. What did you tell them?” Miguel roared at you turning around to face you.

“Nothing” you screamed back at him.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, sitting the bottle of water on the table and opened your messages to ‘Mum’ who was your boss and you handed him your phone. You watched Miguel’s eye brows frown as he read message after message from your boss telling you to get information or you would be pulled from the case, and either you didn’t answer or just wrote back ‘Need more time’

“You told them nothing?”

“No. Have your people check it out”

“It’s mine?” Miguel nodded towards your tummy.

“Si”

“I want you to do a test”

“Anything you need me to do to prove it to you, Miguel”

12 months later

It has been a massive whirl wind and roller coaster from that day in the warehouse. You held Camila in your arms as you looked out over the ocean from your unit in Cuba as you thought about everything that happened. Miguel was there for the birth; a paternity test was taken as soon as she was born, Miguel wanting to make sure that she was indeed his. The rent was paid for and there was money in your account every month for food and anything the baby needed. Miguel had snuck you and Jane out of the US through the tunnels to Mexico, making you both disappear. You sent to Cuba and Jane sent to Puerto Rico, with new names and a new life. Jane told never to step foot back in the US.

You hadn’t heard from Miguel in almost a month, you weren’t sure if he was going to tell Emily, but you were grateful for being far away from everything. You had seen the US news how the FED’s finally raided the Galindo house and you crossed everything that there would be no paper trail to you for you to get caught out and be brought back to the US.

You had just put Camila down after she fell asleep in your arms, when there was knocks on the door. You went and looked through the peep hole and gasped in surprise, swinging the door open to Miguel, his face scruffy and he looking tired,

“What are you doing here?” you moved out of the way and he walked in “Can you be traced here? I saw the news” you closed and locked the door.

Miguel didn’t answer at first walking in dropping his bags and throwing himself on the couch,

“No. For now. There isn’t a trail to you. I have new documents coming here tomorrow and we move into the new apartment next week”

“We?” you raised an eye brow at him.

A cry broke through the apartment and Miguel jumped up rushing towards the cry. You gave him a minute and then walked to door, leaning on it, your heart melting watching him cradle Camila in his arms,

“lo siento, mi princesa. I stayed away to long, Papa is here now” he kissed her forehead, Miguel looked up at you, a tear running down his cheek “She has your nose”

“She has her Papa’s long fingers” you smiled back.

“What we did, what I did to my wife, my son, was wrong” he muttered “But, I loved you”

“We did do wrong Miguel” you walked into the room “I still love you”

“You won’t when you find out everything. What was in those files was nothing”

Miguel kissed Camila’s cheek, putting her back in her bassinet and sitting on your bed, his hands going over his face and you sat down next to him putting your arm around him. He told you everything he did and then looked up at you with a tear-stained face,

“A lot’s happened” you whispered.

“I’ve made too many bad decisions. They are catching up with me”

“That’s life Miguel”

“How can you not look at me differently”

“Because I saw that other man that you are. Just Miguel, not Cartel Miguel. He is a good man; he is the father of my daughter”

“Can we do this? Trust each other after everything?” Miguel looked over at you.

Your hand went to his thigh and his went on top of yours,

“It’s not going to be easy, but I want to try”

 Tags: @beccabarba @alwaysachorusgirl @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @jemmakates @ben-c-group-therapy

[spidernerdsblog]

Match made in Hell : Prologue

A/N : Well this series will be hella angsty. Hope you like this. Feedbacks and suggestions are always welcome.

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary : you always wanted a simple life but to be born as the daughter of a dangerous mobster turned out to be a curse for you. Everything changes when your father gets your lover killed and forcefully marries you off to another mobster as a part of a deal. You hate your father and your husband the only thing you seek is now revenge. Will you ever be able to fall in love again or this burning hatred inside you will consume you?

Warnings : 18+,mentions of blood, murder, death, misogyny, implied sexual theme.

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s the middle of the night as you sneak out from the backside of the dingy motel you and Ethan chose to hide for two days before catching a bus to Virginia. You were headed to the NY port bus terminus as you cautiously walked through the dimly lit alleyway. Both of you carrying a duffel bag in your hand as you briskly walk down to the main street.

"Ethan come on'' you whisper yell looking back to your boyfriend who was walking right behind you with whom you have planned to elope and start a new life away from your father's clutches who happens to be the mafia king of Northeast United States and wants to forcefully marry you off to another mobster of Europe to expand his territory and grab hold on their turf.

"Y/N are you sure your dad will not find us trying to flee right under his nose?" Ethan asks nervously. You smile softly as you put down your bag. Your hands reach up to his face cupping it gently.

"Don't you worry honey. I have a friend over there who has made all the necessary arrangements. In a few hours we will be in our paradise far from all of this. Just you and me, baby."

"But what if your dad already knows about us and sent his men to kill me."

"By the time daddy will come to know about us running away he will have nothing to do. He has no power in the southern states so we will be safe." You press your forehead on to his before stepping away from him and are about to turn around to resume walking but then the inevitable happens.

BANG! a gunshot was fired from a near distance.

You flinched at the deafening sound and felt something graze past you as some viscous liquid splattered on your face. You run your hand through your face to find blood stains and look at Ethan with horror in your eyes, a bullet has punched it's way right through his chest causing a hole in its wake as blood oozed out, his white shirt slowly turning scarlet red.

"Ethan!! oh my god!!" you gasped and rushed to him. Ethan felt dizzy, his vision going blurry as his body began to collapse. You quickly hold on to his weight slowly crouching down to kneel on the pavement placing his head on your lap.

"No! No! No, This can't happen!" You didn’t know what to do as you franctically pressed your hands together on the wound on his chest trying to stop the bleeding, tears running down your cheeks.

"Mija" your throat went dry at the deep voice. You turned your head to find your father standing all tall and powerful, face expressionless with his hands stuffed inside his pockets and right by his side is your step brother Julian. In no time his hunch men surrounded the area.

"Daddy he's dying do something please." you sobbed.

"You shouldn't have tried to run away Mija or else poor Ethan would have been alive to see tomorrow's daylight."

"C'mon now get up." He reached out his hand to you.

"What? No! Daddy please help him. He'll die. I'll do whatever you say, marry whoever you want but please save him." You begged him as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

"It's too late for that Mija. You should have known well that after your engagement you are just a safe-keeping of the Holland's for us. Son-in-law is really upset with your behavior. He is the one who helped us track you down."

"Jules at least you try to understand." You turned to your step brother in despair.

"Enough sister we have to go, we don't want the whole NYPD chasing us for a petty collateral damage." he says sternly.

"You already are a big disgrace to the family. Thankfully my step brother-in-law is very generous to accept you even after all this."

"No I'm not going with you anywhere, either you shoot me like him or else I'll do it myself." You scrambled up back on your feet and with a swift move snatched the gun from the holster of one of his men standing near you. You pointed the gun to  your head holding onto the trigger.

"Y/N Martinez enough is enough! Drop the gun now!" your father commands agitated.

"No!" you shakily press the trigger a little more as tears pricked your eyes.

"You'll not do that Y/N." your father warns again.

"Oh hell I'll do if I don't get to live with the love of my life then you will not get what you want." you spat trembling in rage.

"Y/N no.. No" Ethan croaked in pain, the angry demeanor you had softened at his voice.

"Ethan, honey.. " you dropped to your feet kneeling beside his weak body.

"if you die then I die too." You sniffled. Ethan threaded his fingers to yours.

"No, Y/N you - you have to live. For me. Promise me."

"No" you whimper.

"Promise me Y/N, this-this is my last wish" He took large gulps of air while he spoke. You screwed your eyes shut feeling helpless at the given moment.

"I-I promise Ethan." Your voice quivered.

"I love you Y/N.." he smiled weakly as his voice trailed off as it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

"I love you too baby." You sniffled. Ethan's eyes were droopy as he struggled to stay awake. He was barely breathing.

"No, no Ethan, stay with me please." you clutched onto his hand desperately. He swallowed his last breath of air before succumbing to eternal sleep in your arms.

"Ethan?" you shake his lifeless body. "Ethan wake up!!" all was in vain as Ethan's limp body lay on the pavement.

"Ethaaan!!!" you wail.

"Take care of the body. I need to handle my ever rebellious daughter." your father ordered.

"Okay boss." one of his capos obliged.

"Now c'mon and let's get you prepared for your husband." your father grabbed on to your arm.

"No,no,no" you try to grasp onto Ethan's lifeless body. Your father ripped you apart from his body forcing you to stand up on your feet.

"It's your last week with us anyway, spend some time with your mother, make some happy memories, she will miss her only daughter the most."

"Happy memories?! You took every ounce of happiness from my life, you are a monster! You all are! I hate you!" you screamed struggling hard to free yourself from your father's firm grip.

"One day you'll know everything your daddy did was for your own good. So stop fighting and do as you are told like a good girl" Your father and brother Julian dragged you to the car. You were a walking dead when you reached your home which seemed a prison to you now. Your mother came rushing to you.

"Oh sweetie you're safe. Thank god I was so worried." she wrapped her arms around you in a hug.

"Mom.. Ethan.. He's gone." You broke down in her arms.

"It's ok sweetie. Don't worry everything will be fine. You are my strong girl I know you will get through this" she cradled your face pecking your forehead trying to console you.

"Ask your daughter to stop acting like a brat and learn how to be a good wife to her future husband and tend to his needs. Don't want the Holland's point fingers at us saying we didn't raise our daughter right."

"Why did you do this Victor?"

"After so many years are you questioning your husband Rosette?"

"No, I'm questioning a father and how could he do this to his only daughter?"

"She brought it upon herself." your mother was about to say something but was cut off by your father.

"No! I don't want to hear anything more about this. Just do what I said." he says sternly.

******

"The Martínez's will arrive in a week, start making all the necessary arrangements."

"Once the deal is done you will be taking over our family business son are you ready to sit on this throne?" The senior Holland asks his eldest son Tom in the presence of his younger twin sons Harry and Sam and Tom’s future consigliere and best friend Harrison as he stood in the middle of the spacious conference room patting on the big leather chair placed right in the middle of the wooden round table from where he has been running this empire all these years commanding men to do all his dirty work and sealing fate of people who didn’t comply by his wishes.

"Always ready dad." Tom stood tall.

"I know you are, my son. This is the day I have been waiting for all my life."

"Okay now enjoy your last few days of freedom of a bachelor before you are a married man." he pats his shoulder proudly and was about to leave the room but turned to him again.

"One more thing you need to keep a tighter hold on your woman from now on Tom. Her carefree days are over, she needs to be made aware of her responsibilities including giving the family an heir."

"Yes dad."

As his father leaves with the twins Tom slumps down on one of the chairs with Harrison beside him. He lets out a long sigh taking out his phone.

The first thing he does is open your Instagram page and go through your pictures which has turned out to be a habit for him for the last three years. Harrison was sitting beside him as he saw your pictures too. Some were with your college friends, some you attending one of your dad's galas in the prettiest designer dresses and some bikini clad sunkissed aesthetic pictures of you on vacation on some exotic island. Tom thought you looked unearthly in every picture but his mood would go sour seeing the comments below of several guys objectifying your body. He felt like hunting them down and chopping off their fingers with which they typed such lewd comments.

Though he himself wasn’t a man of high morals either drinking, gambling, bringing in girls every night in spite of being engaged to you though each night he wished it was you on his bed, not some random hooker he picked up from the bar. He is well aware that you don’t like him and despise this whole marriage. But he has nothing to worry anymore now because in a few days you are going to be his for lifetime. And he is confident that he will win you over eventually.

"I see why you are hell bent to marry her, she's a siren." Harrison remarked snarkly, breaking Tom from his thoughts.

"Hopefully she sounds like one too" Tom chuckles.

"But you really want to spend the rest of your life with her? She doesn't seem to be the one to follow rules."

"She's always been a wild horse since childhood that is why I like her even more and trust me wild horses are more fun to tame Haz. I can assure you in no time she'll be roaming around like a puppy around me."

"And how do you know you'll be able to tame a headstrong girl like her?"

"That will not be an issue because once I make sure that my child is inside her she will have nothing to do." He smirks. "Motherly instincts, you know how that works. After all, she's a woman. How much ever she hates me she will never separate her child from his father."

"And once I will have her father removed from the picture and taken over their empire she will have nowhere to go."

"You know she'll hate you more than she already does after you kill her father."

"Her father is no less than a monster. I will be doing her a favor actually." Tom once again glances at a portrait picture of you.

"Princess your kingdom eagerly awaits your arrival." he mutters to himself with a smug grin on his face.

.................................................................................

Taglist in bio or just send an ask or dm I’ll add you

[dystopia-fantasy]

Always read the job description -Part 1

Max was a fit, well built man. He had been body building since he was 14 and now In his early 40s he has the body of a god, but is slowly getting to the age when he needs to find another way to make money. He knows he can't take part in his competitions anymore, and needs to take it easy. He got great grades in school and college, proving people wrong that you can't be a nerd in a jock body.

Max had some money saved and was able to keep up on bills for a few months but needed a job to keep his large house, in the rich area of the city. He got a call from a business he applied to a couple of days ago, telling him to go in for an interview tomorrow, and if it goes well he will be sent straight on a trip for the company. He gets his new blue suit ready to be worn the next day.

The morning arrives, it's 5am, and Max wakes. He does his normal morning routine, making breakfast, working out, taking a shower, then gets his suit on ready for his early morning interview. Driving to the office building in the middle of New York, it's at least 50 stories high, and is made of mostly glass, and is one of the newest modern builds in the city.

On arrival a large man in his late 60s wearing a suit greets him, "hello sir, you must be max, Sir Mammon is on his way down to collect you, may I say what an amazing suit you have on today".

Max looks the man up and down, seeing the man's huge belly flowing out from under his dress shirt, showing a massive W shape, "thanks mate, you might want a bigger shirt" then points to his belly.

"sorry if I offended you sir, but all clothing has been chosen by Sir Mammon himself" Mammon is the big boss of the business "if you would like to make a complaint I can print you a form".

Max laughs, "No thanks, I'm gonna sit over there, tell Mammon im there".

"will do sir, have a great day" the man says while max walks away paying no more attention to him.

About 15 minutes later a young handsome slender man walks over. "Max is it?" He says behind Max.

"yes.." max says confused.

"I'm Mammon, nice to meet you" he smiles holding his hand out for a shake.

"oh hello Mammon, is wasn't expecting someone so young, no offence of course" max shaking his hand.

Mammon let's out a little laugh, with a little grin "it's ok max, people don't expect someone like me to own such a remarkable company like this one would you like to follow me, we can go up to my office, this is Mark by the way, he's my Butler". Mark is another large man aged around 50, he has a massive belly stuffed into his suit, hes huffing and puffing, like he ran a marithon, "don't mind him, most of my staff are..."

Max cuts him off "fat?"

They both laugh, "you could say that Max" the elevator arrives and they all walk in, "now max, you did read the whole advertisement correct?".

Max didn't, it's was 48 pages long, who would read it all? He just looked at the wage he would get, it started at $100,000 per month. "Yes, I did".

"that's good, most guys are more keen to keep their body's but I guess if your struggling you'll do anything."

Max now confused just nod's and watches though the glass elevator as they fly up to the top floor.

"where here sir" Mark the butler says peacefully in his British accent.

They walk into the room, and Mammon sits at his desk pouring himself a glass of wisky, and Max one too. Max looks around in aww, the room was covered in art work, with the walls painted in golds and whites and had its own bar. "How do you have all this money?" Max asked.

"a mix of many things, this company, and a few investments paid for this whole building, I have many other ways but we're not here for that." Mammon points at the seat," take a seat max" Max sits the chair is made from leather and is very comfy. "So, max, I've gone through your file, I think you're perfect for the job."

"so, does that mean I have the job?" Max replies confused, expecting to be asked a question.

"well yes, if you agree to the terms"

"terms?" Max still confused.

"well yes, you expect to be paid 10times the amount the normal person for this job without any terms or conditions?"

"well I didn't know.." Max gets cut off.

"Max let me simplify them for you. You sacrifice your body to the company, and in trade you get, $100k X the amount you weigh paid into your account per month, So if you weigh 450lbs, you get $450k a month."

"what the fuck? That's sick, I'm not doing that, I'm leaving" and with that Max got up from the chair and stood face to face with Mammon, with the desk all that is separating them. "Your sick, you fa**ot".

With that Mammon's eyes glow a bright red. "I'm a what?" Max got through back against the chair by an invisible force. "Max you could have just left with your freedom, but now look what you've gotten yourself into".

"Let me go, What the fuck?" Max says while traped against that chair, it chreeking with the force of his muscle.

"I'm a fucking demon max, I'm never going to 'let you go'" he took a second break to mock max, "now, what did you say? Fa**ot, was it?".

"fuck, I didn't mean it" the force pins him down harder, trapping his arms against the leather chair arms, and pushing his legs against the underboard. "Please let me go home, I won't do it again."

"shut up max, the process is already starting".

Max looks down to see his body deflating, his pecs turning from mountain peaks to a flat surface, his giant powerful arms turning weak and light. And then looking up he sees a whole new man infront of him.

"Not as big as I thought I would get, but boy I'm big" he took a break to admire his new giant arms and pecs.

"what the?" Max looks in confusion, "how did you do that? Give me them back".

"what are you gonna do max? I'm an infinitely powerful being and you, your an old man, or at least your going to be."

"I'm only 42, what do you mean, going to be?"

"you see I don't have my infinite life span on earth, so to stay alive and in this fit body, I absorb anything a guy has and I want. In your case, these massive muscles, but then I need to absorb their life force as well, in order to make sure I don't age."

"what do you mean life force?"

"well, you have roughly 50 years, worth of life left, I'll drain about 20 years leaving you in your future crippled body at around age 60, force you to work for the company for another 20 years, then when your 80 drain the rest of your life, which after you get fat won't be much, then you got to hell."

"man your sick, let me go, LET ME GO!".

A bright red light shoots from Peters hand enveloping Max's whole body, and he starts to age, his face wrinkling, skin dropping, eye sight worsening, hearing getting muffled, and mind changing a little. "Max, you ok old man?".

"yes sir" max was confused in his mind, why did he say sir?

"max, you ready for your Cruise? You can have tones of food for the next 6 months."

"Yes sir, I'm ready" max lifts his head, opening his eyes to see a new blurry room from his new old eyes.

"you're gonna need these from now on" Peters eyes glow and a new pair of glasses appear on Max's face he can now see clear.

"thank you... Sir", max blinks seeing Peter infront of him, "what have you, done to me".

"Max, I've turned you into the perfect office worker, old, brainiac, who is soon going to get fat and live the rest of his life, in an office chair for me, don't worry for accomodation you live here now, we have apartments on floor 30 to 40, all workers live here, it's policy, we have also sent a team to your house to, well, blow it up, that way nobody is going to be looking for you, becuase we can plant a body"

"give me... My.... Body back, give me... My.. life back."

"Max we both know that will never happen, now enjoy a life of gluttony, and prepare yourself for hell, that's gonna be worse then anything I can do to you." Peter snaped his fingers and a red glow enveloped max.

Recovering from the glow max sees two men infront of him with a trolly of sorts between them. "Is he awake" one says,

"I don't know" said the other.

"im- awake" max said in a much older raspy voice.

"good we can now start the feeding" the man on the left said, his body as muscled as a god, ripped from head to toe, and we can see everything.

Max rubs his eyes under his glasses and opens them again, "Fucking hell, put some clothes on both of you".

Both men where nude, one a ripped god, another muscled up but with a big gut. "Clothes are banned here mate" the beefy man said in a type of Australia accent, "you cant say much fella, look at that tiny pecker".

The men laughed pointing at Max's shriveled up old cock and low hanging balls, "what the fuck"max tries to move his arm to cover him but his arm doesn't move, he looks down to see him stuck in a chair, with a cut out hole under his ass, and straps tying him down, trapping him. "What... Are you gonna do to me?" Max asked sceared.

The men laughed at him again, "no need to act to sceared, we're here to feed you for the next 6 months".

"but... Sir said..." Max get cut off.

"he said you'd be going on a cruise? Fucking hell are you dumb? He's a demon, you shouldn't trust a demon" The muscled guy says.

"bro let's start the feeding we have 50 other guys to see and I wanna watch football Tonight." The beefy guys says, and in unison both their eyes glowed a bright red, showing they where demons too.

The trolly between them had several items on top, one long tube, which floated in the air for a few moments before shoving itself down maxes nostril and deep into his stomach, his head flipped back trying to wriggle it out, but it was stuck. Another item moved into his frame, a IV bag holder, holding a giant barrel type object made of glass, and two large bags floated of the table again and started to drain into the barrel, and the tube connected itself to it, starting a flow of the liquid into maxes stomach.

"done" the beffy guy said. "Now we'll be back tomorrow to refill your barrel, and clean you up if you make a mess, but youll basically be unconscious for the next 6 months, due to the drugs were feeding you."

"so enjoy your sleep mate, you'll litterally wake up a different man." The two men laughed and walked out, max tried fighting the restraints but in his crippled form could do nothing. The door slammed and locked, and the room fell dark, max screamed begging into the darkness to be let free, and to have his life back, which he had only an hour before, but nothing happened, nobody came. He felt the drugs taking effect, but tried to fight back, but it was useless, his body slumped and loosened. His mind fell blank as he drifted of into his 6 month hibernation.

[faulty-writes]

[ So I felt like I needed to do another Taishiro piece. So this is partly inspired by the songs Chocolate and Be Kind To Yourself. I hope you enjoy it!]

[ Not quite a hero and yet not quite a villain. You have gone by the proud title of 'Vigilante' for years now and for years Taishiro Toyomitsu otherwise known as 'Fat Gum' has been chasing after you and...protecting you? Huh, that's weird. But it looks like he's going above and beyond this time and he may have broken his word for your sake. Either way, you find yourself listening to what he has to say. ]

Pants filled the air as you continued to run down the now wet streets of Tokyo, pushing down innocent bystanders that stood in your way while the sky above you continued to rumble causing the already present rain to fall harder, hitting the ground in large bursts.

You could still hear the loud stomps behind you as members of the police force continued their chase to try and apprehend you. The bag of stolen goods was still clenched tightly in your hand and you used your free hand to catch yourself when you slipped on the wet pavement.

Luckily you decided to take a small detour through a back alley and climbed up a fire escape before you proceeded to jump onto several rooftops in an attempt to make it to a safer location. Once you heard the noise of the police force fade away, which was oddly fast in your opinion.

You slowly made your way down another fire escape and slumped against the brick wall of another alleyway. The rain continued to pour down and you glanced up, the sky was dark and there was no hint of sunlight. You pressed your hand to your chest, taking a few deep breaths to regain your composure.

“Hm?” That's when you noticed the faint cut across the back of your hand. But, that shouldn’t be too much of a surprise considering you had minor cuts and scrapes across the length of your body. Not to mention the fact that your clothes were currently stuck to the surface of your skin.

“Pff,” you reached up, pushing your bangs out of your face and allowing them to stick to the top of your head. Then you paused, making sure it was still quiet. Though it was a tad hard to hear any outside noise due to the pounding rain.

“Well…” you shrugged and stepped away from the wall, assuming that all was safe. “Let me see what I got…” you wrestled with the bag for a moment before finally managing to open it. But just as you were about to peer inside to see all the goodies you had gathered.

Heavy footsteps sounded from behind you which prompted you to close the bag and turn quickly on your feet. You expected to see more members of the police force and kept the bag hidden behind your back.

But as soon as you laid your eyes on the rather large individual that stood before you, your defensive stance relaxed. “You know I’d like to see what you got in that sack too,” you narrowed your eyes and took a step back. “Fat Gum,” you stated as you continued to back away with your eyes locked on him.

Taishiro Toyomitsu or “Fat Gum” as you knew him as was someone you had run into a couple of times before and while you were well aware he was a hero and he was well aware you were a vigilante with slight villainous tendencies.

He had a bad habit of wanting to protect you and trying to convince you to fight for the side of justice, but that wasn’t at all something you were willing to do...again. Thus the game of cat and mouse continued. Your thoughts broke when he chuckled and began to casually walk towards you.

“That’s the name, glad you still remember,” he spoke in a teasing tone but you weren't amused and tightened your grip on the bag. You refused to back down to anyone, so you straightened your posture while casting a glare at the oversized hero.

But as he got closer you noticed that his clothes seemed dry or rather that the rain slid off of the fabric as opposed to absorbing into it. However, you noticed those small strands of blond hair sticking out from under his hood and cocked your head to the side.

“Looks like you’re a bit wet there, not to mention those injuries of yours,” Taishiro said as he continued to loom over you, that large smile of his fading as he once again began to show the same concern for you he always did. But, you rolled your eyes.

‘Here we go again, the hero complex,’ you thought but didn’t exactly notice the frown that was playing across your lips until Taishiro pointed it out. “I’d rather not see you frown if it’s all the same to you,” he said, his voice deepening and you recognized there was some pitiful tone to it which caused you to growl.

“I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do!” you snapped as you pointed your finger at him, once more your bangs seemed to come back to stick to your forehead and impair your vision. Your knuckles were slowly turning white as your grip on the bag tightened.

You didn’t register the fact you were no longer hiding the item behind your back. “Hm,” Taishiro reached up, scratching the side of his head with one of his abnormally large fingers. “That might be a problem,” he confessed, but his tone was light and you knew this was yet again something that normally happened between you two.

You’d do something, Taishiro would find you and proceed to give you a speech about how good you were in hopes you’d change your ways. The fact that he felt the need to protect you was...well, you felt a mix of emotions when it came to that.

“I’m gonna need you to give me that sack, please” you flinched, looking at him with a bewildered expression which wasn’t so surprising considering you wouldn’t just hand it over. Taishiro frowned and took a step closer before he leaned over and brought his arms up, almost like he was expecting you to hop away.

“Come on, I would never hurtcha knowing you’re already injured,” he said, the fact that his tone was filled with concern only made you angrier. “I am not giving you my bag!” you hissed before taking a step back. Even as Taishiro continued to loom over you, both of you seemed to know what you were about to do.

“Don’t,” he ordered, which was almost amusing considering his voice didn’t hold any sense of authority. You pushed your foot against the slippery ground and made a foolish dash towards the entrance of the alleyway. Of course, you should have expected the way to be blocked.

Actually, you should have expected Taishiro to have made a secure plan that would prevent you from leaving the alleyway until he got what he wanted from you. Just as you were about to reach the entrance, something bright flashed through the rain.

“Look out for the gun!” Taishiro’s voice broke through the sound of the rain and the scent of sulfur filled the air. “Ah!” you stumbled when you felt a blast of heat near your foot where the impact of a bullet made a hole in the concrete. However, instead of falling to the ground.

You felt someone grab onto your wrist and pull you against a squishy surface. “Damn it,” you cursed under your breath, already knowing who had a hold on you which meant escaping was going to be tricky. Especially with the police who were not only sealing off your escape routes but appeared to be trigger happy.

Yup, you were effectively trapped. The very opposite thing you wanted. “Let go!” you demanded as you stepped forward and attempted to pull your wrist out of the hero’s grip, but he kept a firm hold on you. Even with the rain, it seemed you couldn’t easily slip away.

“Sorry about this,” he reached over, and despite you still desperately holding your bag of stolen goods to your chest, he so easily ripped it away from you. “Hey!” you snapped as you tried to reach for it, but considering how tall Taishiro was. It was an almost impossible task, even when you stretched your arm to its limit.

“I got it!” he declared as he held the bag up for the police force members to see. “You boys can relax now,” he said and sure enough you watched as that police line up broke apart and started walking towards you. Another growl escaped and your free hand curled into a fist.

“Give it back!” you demanded, once more stretching your arm out and jumping to try and take it. The display was a little pathetic, you could admit. Jumping up and down to get something you wanted when someone else was holding it just out of your reach. Another cry left you when your foot slipped and your body fell to the ground.

A hiss followed when you felt the skin of your elbow tear against the rough texture of the pavement, despite the rain washing away the blood that came. You still felt the small amount of pain that coursed through your now broken skin. “Hey there, you better be careful!” Taishiro said as he leaned to one side and placed the bag down.

You completely ignored the fact that the police were now standing just a few feet from you, their guns raised as if you were actually attempting to do something. Well, you did try to lunge for the bag that was now on the ground.

Of course, you were stopped by Taishiro who grasped the back of your shirt. “Sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you continuing to injure yourself or try and take that bag back,” he stated and you cried out when you were suddenly lifted up.

You began to kick your feet, attempting to aim for Taishiro’s face. He didn't seem to take too kindly to this considering he was frowning, but what he did next threw you off-guard. He began to lower you down onto his stomach and you could feel something pulling at the bottom of your shoes.

“Stop it!” you exclaimed as you found yourself in a battle with his quirk which was currently sucking you into his body. You knew exactly what he was doing as you had seen him do it before. He could effectively absorb people or hold them in place with his quirk.

It was a way to disable and prevent them from doing any more harm to themselves or others. You tried moving your arms and legs but it was no good, it was almost like your body was being submerged in a pool of putty. “Fat Gum…” you hissed out, your body or at least what was still seen of it, began to tremble.

“Sorry, I wasn't too rough with you. Was I?” he questioned as he looked down at you, effectively trapped and safe within his fat. You couldn’t help but glare, but at least in a way, the rain wasn’t bothering you. However, your soaking wet bangs were still hanging in your face.

You grumbled as one of the police force members walked over to the bag and curiously peeked inside before looking at you. They wore a tan trench coat with white gloves and a matching hat. You could make out their black hair and dark eyes.

"Is this everything?" they asked and you opened your mouth to speak or curse him out, but Taishiro answered for you. Flashing a smile, he raised his arm with a confident nod. “Should be Tsukauchi,” he replied and you raised your eyebrow.

‘Naomasa Tsukauchi...should have known’ you thought. ‘Guess I didn’t recognize him in that getup,’ Naomasa was the police detective of the police force and someone you had dealt with countless times. Needless to say, you didn’t favor him much.

"Hm," he turned his attention to Taishiro. "Do you need an escort to the police station?" he questioned and you scowled. “Police station!? Again!?” no surprise you had been there countless times, sat in those tiny interrogation rooms for hours.

However, Naomasa didn’t answer you. He didn’t even bother to glance at you, rather he kept his eyes locked on Taishiro. “Nah,” he replied before patting his stomach and you could feel the slight vibrations course through your body as a result of the motion.

“This big ol’ body wouldn’t mind a little more exercise, I can take them in myself,” the rain continued to hit the ground, creating a random but somehow rhythmic sound that eased the current anger you felt. Naomasa looked at Taishiro with some concern before he nodded and turned to one of the officers who took the bag.

"Let’s wrap this up and go!" he said before walking away. However, he paused and looked over his shoulder at Taishiro. "Thank you for continuing to protect Japan," he said as he tipped his hat and resumed walking. Taishiro must have heard the rather animalistic growls coming from you.

But you knew he couldn’t see the way your eyes were narrowed and your teeth clenched together. Wishing that Naomasa would burst into flames at any moment, but you were quickly distracted away from your hateful thoughts when Taishiro turned around and began walking in the opposite direction.

“You alright there?” he questioned, his voice was back to its cheery tone and you knew he was smiling as he walked. You kept quiet, refusing to answer him as he rounded the corner out of the alleyway. Why should you even talk to him when he was only going to take you to the police station?

Or at least that’s where you thought you were going until you began to realize. “This isn’t the way to the police station,” you pointed out, though you had some doubt. You knew the streets of Esuha City well enough and you knew something was off.

You tried to glance up at Taishiro but the task was impossible considering you couldn’t fully turn your head. Taishiro chuckled and for a moment you thought he was laughing at you, but this wasn't the case. “I knew you were smart enough to catch on!” he replied and you growled yet again in annoyance.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, the question coming out with a hiss as you tried once more to wiggle your way ‘out’ of Taishiro. But stopped when a series of lights began to irritate your vision. The pouring rain didn’t help as it caused the light to glare which, in turn, caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Those lights are annoying,” you pointed out and Taishiro came to a stop. Raising his hand up to press against his forehead as he looked at the large building ahead of him. “Yeah?” he questioned before laughing once more. “This is where I live,” he said casually, despite the fact your jaw dropped.

“...what?” for a moment you didn’t think you heard him correctly. That is until he started walking to the door, it was a tad bizarre to see a scanner attached to the outside wall. But Taishiro seemed prepared for it, considering he reached up to remove his glove.

You watched as he pressed one of his fingers against the screen of that scanner which then became illuminated by blue light. A few seconds later, the two sliding glass doors unlocked and Taishiro walked through. Humming softly to himself as he slipped his glove back over his hand.

“Mm,” you grumbled from your position. Your hair was mostly dry now, though your bangs still stuck to your forehead and it was a little irritating you couldn’t simply push them out of the way. You tried to ignore it in favor of taking in your new surroundings. The entrance of the building was rather well-kept.

The tiled flooring looked polished and there was fancy furniture everywhere. You could hear the faint sounds of individuals talking somewhere off in the distance mixed with the continued rainfall. ‘He lives in a place like this?’ granted Taishiro didn’t seem to be one that spent his money on large mansions and such.

He was social, so maybe he would prefer living in a place that had people. "Uh!" you shook your head, jeez. Were you getting soft? You tried to focus on your surroundings once more, and took note that there was an elevator but surely Taishiro wouldn’t use an elevator given his height and weight, right?

Sure enough, you felt the motion of him turning and watched as he entered through another door. It gave somewhat of an eerie squeak as it opened and you found yourself staring down a rather large and empty-looking hallway. How odd.

However, your thoughts were shattered when you felt Taishiro lean back and, in turn, you jolted forward. Hitting the floor with a soft thud, you felt moisture across the length of your arms and your clothes were still sticking to your skin. “What the hell!?” you snapped before frantically standing on your feet.

Your fists clenched and your eyes narrowed in a glare toward Taishiro. He gave a nervous chuckle and reached up to rub the back of his head. “Sorry bout’ that,” he replied before once more grinning, not that doing such a thing made you any less angry at him.

“There’s a big ol’ elevator at the end of this hallway," he said. "Sturdy enough to support you and me,” he claimed as he patted his stomach. “...elevator?” you questioned as you looked over your shoulder. “Mmhm, let’s go,” Taishiro urged as he laid his hand on your shoulder which you didn't take too kindly to.

You attempted to flinch away but his fingers took firmer hold. "Didn’t think I’d let you run off, did you?” a growl rumbled in your throat, but Taishiro didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. Rather, he just smiled and proceeded to pull you along despite your continued attempts to wiggle away.

A familiar ding sounded when the elevator arrived and Taishiro pulled you inside with him. The elevator bounced some underneath his weight and for a moment you were expecting the cord to snap and for both of you to spiral downward.

Luckily that didn’t happen and he released his hold on your shoulder as soon as the elevator doors closed. You grumbled in response and reached up to grasp your shoulder, though Taishiro’s grip didn’t hurt you couldn’t help but pout.

First, you got caught, then you got your things taken away, and now you’re being brought home by a hero. What else could go wrong? What hero did things like this? “Mm…” you glanced up at Taishiro who had his elbows bent and a happy expression on his face, why was he always so happy?

“Why are you doing this?” you questioned and Taishiro turned to look down at you. Somehow he knew that no answer would satisfy you. So he wouldn't stress himself trying to figure out what he could say. Instead, he glanced forward. Watching as the light just above the door continued to change, indicating each floor you passed.

“We’re almost there,” he said, and you noticed his voice sounded a little flat, almost like he was disappointed. But part of you expected that more than likely he wasn’t planning on spending his night with a vigilante. Still, you were a little annoyed he didn’t answer your question.

“Fine then…” you said as you crossed your arms and turned away from Taishiro, somewhat acting like a child. But at the moment, you didn’t care. When the elevator finally came to a stop and the door opened, you had debated about running.

But chances are Taishiro would catch you again and you really didn’t have anywhere else to go. Still, you were surprised to be greeted with what looked to be a rather large living room. There were several pieces of furniture including a couch which sat in front of a large flat-screen television.

“Well come on in!” Taishiro exclaimed cheerfully as he stepped off the elevator and you heard the wooden floor give a creak underneath his weight. You took a step back, once more debating if you should try for an escape. It would be so easy, just push the ‘lobby’ button and you’d be on your way.

You raised your hand, ready to reach over and enact your plan. But froze when Taishiro turned around, blinking when he saw you in the elevator. “Heh,” he placed his hands on his hips. “What are you still doing in there?” he questioned before he extended a hand out to you.

“Uh…” your arms pressed up against your chest and you looked down at that offered hand. It could be debated that it was a strange gesture, but somehow you felt as though Taishiro was always offering a hand out to you.

If it wasn't his hand, then he always appeared as though he were looking for any excuse to touch you. Maybe one day you’d get a real answer from him, but it seemed no matter what his answer always revolved around thinking you were a good person or that if you changed your ways you’d make a great hero.

Maybe he was trying to convert you, undo all the previous damage you had been through that led you to the path of a vigilante. Still, you couldn’t deny that he was trying to make some type of connection to you and despite the many times you had been caught doing this or that, Taishiro always let you go.

You partly wondered if he’d get in trouble for this, harboring a vigilante in his home instead of taking them to the police station as he said he would. You latched onto your lip before giving in and slowly laid your hand in his and once again you were reminded that despite Taishiro’s size, he was awfully gentle with everything he did.

Including clasping his fingers over your hand and guiding you into the living room. You couldn’t help but glance around, taking a full scan of the room. You never thought Taishiro would be one to hang pictures everywhere. But there were several picture frames lining the surface of every table and some were even hanging on the walls.

One, in particular, caught your eye. Taishiro was standing in the middle of the frame with his agency building behind him. But what struck you as odd was the young boys standing on each side of him. One had a white and yellow hood with dark hair and seemed as though he were trying to cover his face as the picture was being taken.

Then the other seemed rather enthusiastic, sporting a big toothy grin though he looked like he had sharp teeth as well as spiky red hair that stuck out at several points. Taishiro must have noticed you were staring at the picture and chuckled before releasing your hand.

“Those are my chick-lings,” he stated confidently, snapping you out of your small trance. “Huh?” you turned to look at him, blinking once or twice. Who refers to anyone as a chick-ling? Well, actually maybe you should have expected such from Taishiro of all people.

Still, you couldn’t help the confused expression on your face. “...what?” you questioned causing Taishiro to chuckle. Seconds later, he reached out and ruffled your hair. “Ah,” frantically stepping away, you pressed your hands against the top of your head. “Don’t do that,” you said flatly, but Taishiro must have chosen to ignore you.

“Those two are the best work-study students I’ve had, our little Suneater is going to be my official sidekick next year! That is if we can work on those delicate nerves of his,” he commented as he pointed to the boy hiding his face in the photo.

You raised your eyebrow and stepped forward, trying to get a better look at the photo. ‘Sidekick, huh?’ you had never met Taishiro’s little helpers, but you often pulled your misfit adventures at night and if those boys had school. Well, it would make sense why you never saw them.

You continued to stare for a few more minutes before you heard Taishiro...sniffing something. You slowly turned your head, seeing that he was bent down to your height. That sniffing continued as he leaned closer, in turn, causing you to lean back.

“What are you doing?” you questioned, slightly bewildered at the man’s behavior, but he seemed to come back to reality a few seconds later. It was strange having him so close, though you noticed his yellow eyes seemed to stand out, especially against that black mask he always wore.

A few blond strands still stuck out from under his hood. You often wondered if his hood somehow hurt him considering it looked awfully close to his scalp. “Hm, oh sorry just…” he leaned back, suddenly acting a little shy as he glanced away from you causing you to tilt your head. Why was he acting so strange?

You flinched when he suddenly looked back at you and swiped his tongue over his lips which would have concerned you if not for his next set of words. “Well...you smell mighty sweet,” he claimed, and before you had time to properly react.

You felt his hands slip underneath your arms and let out a cry as you were lifted off the ground. You kicked your feet when Taishiro leaned close and you could feel the way he buried his face into your unruly hair. He then proceeded to sniff once more causing a chill down your spine.

“Your hair smells sweeter than chocolate, gotta confess it’s making me a little hungry,” he stated and you looked at him bewildered before he lowered you back onto the floor. “That’s a compliment,” he stated shortly after as if you were supposed to thank him for the fact you smelled like candy.

“...thanks?” you replied, still unsure of what Taishiro’s motive was. “Are you still a little wet from the rain?” he questioned as he placed his hands on his knees and once more leaned down to your height. “How about I getcha a towel or a fresh set of clothes?” you raised your eyebrow, despite the fact that you were mostly dry.

Your clothes were still sticking to your skin and had dried into uncomfortable creases and wrinkles. You latched onto your lip, almost angry that you were going to accept the kind offer from a hero. But, not all heroes were bad and Taishiro was proving exactly that.

Yet, you couldn't help but think that eventually...one day he would turn on you and end your vigilante days once and for all. But at the moment, you couldn't spend your time worrying about your unknown future with Taishiro. “No towel, but a change of clothes if you have anything that would fit me,” part of you doubted that.

But Taishiro proved time and time again he could surprise you. He seemed happy with your response. “You got it!” he said with a playful wink before he turned to walk away, once more leaving you wondering why he seemed to put so much trust in you. When he disappeared down the hallway, you turned to look over your shoulder.

Glancing at the elevator that you could so easily make a run for and finally escape. But for some reason, you felt compelled to stay where you were. You heard the distant shuffle of clothes echo in the background which was more than likely Taishiro searching high and low for something that could fit you.

“Mm…” the floor continued to creak underneath your feet as you walked towards one of the windows, the sky was painted a dull gray but even then Esuha City continued to flash its usual display of bright colors. But unlike most days, there weren’t many people on the streets below considering it was still raining.

You wondered when it would let up and got lost as you continued to watch the rain come down. So much so that you didn’t notice when Taishiro walked up behind you. "Hm?" he looked at your reflection in the glass and chuckled softly before he leaned down to your ear.

“Pretty ain’t it?” you jumped and quickly turned around with your hand clenching your chest. “Oh!” Taishiro took a step back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said and you responded with a growl which he seemed to yet again ignore.

“I found something for you to wear,” he stated as he held up what looked to be one of his standard hero suit hoodies. But there was something slightly different about this one. It looked significantly smaller for one thing and though it was still orange, the letters across the front of it were yellow with a white and black outline.

“Uh…” you raised your eyebrow, at least it would go past your thighs or so you assumed. “This is from when I first started my hero career, I fooled around a bit with colors since then…” he said with a sheepish laugh before lightly shoving the hoodie into your arms.

“Hm?” you blinked and held it up by the shoulders before pressing it against your body, trying to see just how well it would fit you. “I got a bathroom down the hall there, just past the closet. First door to the left,” he instructed as he pointed and your eyes followed that finger.

You glanced back at the garment in your hands, allowing your thumbs to run over the fabric. It was smooth and almost had a slippery surface, did that help with his quirk? You weren't sure and you were almost mad at yourself for even wanting to inquire about his quirk.

You latched onto your lip. “...thanks,” you replied before you ducked your head and quickly scurried past Taishiro and down the hall. “Huh!?” he seemed rather surprised by your actions and the fact that he had to step back as you scurried past him. He shifted his gaze to the hallway where he heard the bathroom door slam shut.

He reached up, scratching his head as he was clearly confused by your actions. He partly wondered if anyone had ever gifted you anything before, then again maybe he was coming off too strong. A click sounded as you locked the bathroom door behind you and turned around, slightly startled by the sight before you.

The bathroom itself was rather large and had a stand-in shower with sliding glass doors with one corner squared off to make a bathtub. The counter of the sink was well-organized and had a large square mirror hanging on the wall. You blinked. ‘Well...maybe I was wrong…’ seemed Taishiro did enjoy certain aspects of being a hero and making a lot of yen.

Regardless, you shook your head and proceeded to the sink counter, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your hair still appeared dried out and slightly curled, your clothes looked crusty and had several stiff creases in them. "Mm..." you lifted your arm, glancing at the elbow that had gotten torn.

The wound itself still looked fresh and the skin around it inflamed, but nothing that wouldn't heal. Overall, you certainly looked like someone who had spent too much time in the rain. You could still hear the gentle drops echoing as they hit the roof of the building.

You couldn’t help but glance at the ceiling, allowing yourself to get lost in the sound of the rain. You would have much preferred to have gotten away with your bag of goods. But instead, you were here. You then let out a sigh, once more holding up the hoodie you were given.

“Mm…” you laid it out on the counter before you went about removing your clothes. But you struggled as you tried to pull your shirt over your head and trying to wiggle out of your pants was a short-lived nightmare. You stumbled into the sink counter before kicking your shirt and pants away.

Then you quickly grabbed the hoodie and slipped it over your head, it was still a little big on you but the extra room felt cozy. The sleeves were a little too long and hung off your hands, leaving extra fabric to sway. But at least it went past your thighs and your hair didn’t look too bad when you pulled the hood up.

“Huh…” you glanced at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that as you tried to decide how much you favored how Taishiro’s hoodie looked on you. “It’s not bad…” you said to yourself before you quickly gathered your clothes off the floor and cradled them to your chest.

Once more the thought of escaping entered your mind as you stepped out of the bathroom and glanced up and down the hallway. “Lookin’ good!” Taishiro suddenly exclaimed, causing you to jump and stumble back. Your clothes falling to the floor in the process and you stared at them a moment before going to yell at Taishiro.

However, your mouth immediately closed when you were greeted with the sight of someone you didn’t recognize. However, they were dressed in Taishiro’s clothing and had similar hair and eyes. But they were rather skinny and muscular. You blinked, and your stance remained stiff as you stared at them.

“Everything alright?” he questioned and you watched as he leaned down. Positioning himself onto one knee in order to pick up your clothes. “Sorry if I frightened you,” he said as he folded your clothes and stacked them on top of each other. “Here you go!” he said cheerfully as he held them out to you.

A smile was on his face and you raised your eyebrow. “Taishiro?” you questioned, trying to ignore how weird his name sounded on your tongue. “What...what happened to you?” you had never seen him like this before. Was this part of his quirk? Did it somehow malfunction?

You slowly reached to take your clothes back, being a tad clumsy considering the sleeves of Taishiro’s old hoodie got in the way. “Oh, this?” he said as he pointed to himself before standing on his feet once more. “Well, I figured I was going a little too fast so I thought I’d start from the beginning," he explained with a chuckle.

"That way, maybe we could get to know each other better?” you raised your eyebrow. “What?” you replied as you placed your hand on your hip, your other kept hold of your clothes. “That doesn’t answer my question, what happened to you?” Taishiro laughed, though it sounded a tad awkward.

“Well,” he began, “this is my standard form, without all that...extra,” he said as he patted two hands against his stomach. “Either way, most folks seem to prefer this form but if you ask me, beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” he stated before he lowered his hands and leaned slightly in your direction.

“Which is part of the reason I’d like to get to know you,” he said as he reached his hand out for your shoulder but you smacked it away. A soft growl rumbled in your throat before you took a step forward, stomping your foot against the floor.

Despite the fact that Taishiro was at least three or more times bigger than you, that didn’t stop you from pointing your finger up at him. “What the hell do you mean beauty is in the eye of the beholder?!” you wanted to make a point that you disagreed with Taishiro, especially knowing he was talking in reference to you.

Your fingers were curling into your pile of clothes, slightly trembling and your hood had fallen down. But you could care less about how unruly your hair looked at the moment. “Well the way I see it is, you seem like someone who’s bottling themselves up” you lowered your finger, tilting your head to the side.

“S-So what…” you replied before quickly turning your back to him in order to scurry down the hallway. “It’s not like...it’s not like I can be someone else you know!” you suddenly snapped as you once more found yourself in the living room.

It was one thing to assume someone was going to be your friend just because you may have shown them a little kindness. But it was an entirely different thing to assume you knew someone’s life story. Taishiro didn’t even ask! But...you couldn’t deny he was correct in a sense.

You had tried to be a hero once upon a time and maybe it was just bad luck, but you quickly discovered that some heroes could be just as bad as the villains they were sworn to protect others from. That’s what caused you to take the first few steps into becoming a vigilante. Taishiro ducked some as he exited the hallway into the living room.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” and you didn’t mean to roll your eyes. “Hmph!” you replied, almost like a child as you reached back and pulled the hood over your head once more. Then you crossed your arms, your back still facing Taishiro as he continued to speak.

“It’s just...I’ve been noticing that you’re treating yourself like a villain..." he trailed off a moment. You imagined he was trying to gather his thoughts, despite how crazy they were. "I can’t help but disagree with the way you’re treating someone I like,” your arms dropped a little and you felt that familiar insecurity begin to rise.

But you refused to allow yourself to show it. “...what?” you questioned as you turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of Taishiro. For once, he wasn’t smiling and you flinched slightly as he stepped closer to you.

“I like you,” he repeated, “...y/n,” he added a few seconds later and you couldn’t help but feel your heart accelerate when he spoke your name. A low heat began to fill your cheeks and you quickly turned your head back to stare at the wall in front of you.

Your fingers curled into the sleeves of the hood you wore and your knees were turned inward, you refused to speak. “Which is why I can’t let you continue this war between you and yourself, I suppose what I’m saying is...you should be kind to yourself even if you’re angry at yourself or what happened to you," he took a deep breath.

"I know some people aren’t so nice in the world,” he continued as he reached out to take your hand and despite your attempt to jerk it out of his grip, once more he proved he could be stubborn when he wanted to be. His fingers curled tightly around your hand and he narrowed his eyes.

Maybe it was the hero in him, but there was also some part of him that didn’t want to see you spend your life in this harmful cycle. Maybe he could continue to try and steer you back onto the path of a hero, but he knew that would take a long time. But he couldn't deny it would be worth every step.

After all, he wasn’t going to let you go anywhere until he at least got through to you a little. Despite knowing that he'd be in hot water by the end. Yet, isn't that what a hero was for? Sometimes sacrificing yourself for others was the noblest thing you could do.

His fingers continued to tighten around your hand, but he was careful not to hurt you, especially when he pulled you forward which caused you to cry out. Once more your clothes fell to the floor and at this point, you could care less about them. Rather you found both your hands preoccupied.

One held securely by Taishiro and the other curling into the front of his hoodie which now felt baggy and too loose for his ‘standard form.’ You still didn’t fully understand how he could switch between forms so easily like that, but now wasn’t the time to ask. You bared your teeth up at Taishiro with a growl.

But he simply blinked in response as though he weren’t the least bit threatened by you and he probably wasn’t. Rather you felt him guide your hand to place over his heart and he leaned down. His eyes locked with yours which didn’t help the fact your face was growing hotter.

“You gotta learn to love your enemies too, so why not start with me?” he questioned with a smile. “Then maybe you can learn how to do it for yourself and I’d be more than happy to help you,” the sound of the rain continued outside but you could tell it was fading and more than likely would stop at any moment.

“...I...” you were speechless as you stood there pressed up against the hero with your jaw hanging open and your eyebrows tilted in confusion. There was a burning anger building in your stomach, but you knew you couldn’t actually be mad considering he was correct in some aspect.

You clenched your jaw and pushed against his chest with your free hand. “I don’t need your help!” you snapped as you ripped your hand out of his grip and proceeded to pound your fists against his chest. But it didn’t seem to affect him considering his quirk could just absorb the damage.

Taishiro frowned and reached his free hand out, cupping the side of your head. Allowing his abnormally large fingers to slip through the strands that made up your hair. You paused and your eyes widened. "I know you don’t, but I’d like to offer anyway,” he stated and you noticed the uninterrupted silence between you two.

“Hm?” you blinked and turned your head, looking out the window to see the rain had stopped just as you suspected it would. The gray sky was slowly being replaced with small patches of sunshine. You imagined the people down below were slowly coming out of hiding to once more go about their normal day.

That anger that was previously brewing in your stomach slowly faded and you turned back to Taishiro, your stare directed at your hands that remained against his chest. You slowly unfolded your fists and pressed them flat against him.

“You heroes don’t take no for an answer, do you?” maybe it was the hero complex, you weren't sure. But either way, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away from Taishiro. So was accepting the situation as it was, better for you?

No matter how hard you fought against Taishiro, both in the past and present. It seemed he remained the same, constantly chasing after you until he finally caught you in his web or in this case his arms. His soft chuckle sounded once more. “I suppose not,” he replied before smiling.

“What do you say?” he questioned and you glanced away, once more allowing silence to fill the space between you. “I’m...not going to stop,” turning your glance back on him, you continued. “Being a vigilante is the only thing I’ve known since…” you paused, wondering if you really wanted to confess why you choose to be a vigilante.

But maybe it would help Taishiro understand. “The world of the heroes is not all that it’s cracked up to be,” you glanced down. “Some are just as bad as the villains and those are the ones I need to stop," you stated as your hands began to tremble. Then you looked up at Taishiro.

"I know one of your so-called heroes was eyeing that store and could so easily be handed whatever they wanted even when they didn’t deserve it. So I needed to prevent that from happening,” you stated despite knowing that your explanation might not make sense to Taishiro let alone any hero.

Taishiro however, looked a tad confused but he knew that some people did strange things for strange reasons and he couldn’t blame you for trying to do what was right in your eyes even if it was wrong in the eyes of the law. He frowned and reached over. “Hey!” you exclaimed when you felt his fingers take gentle hold of your chin.

He slowly moved your head back to face him. “Sorry,” he said, “I know some heroes must have done you wrong, but I can promise you I won’t be one of them," he said with some sadness in his voice. "I wouldn't let any hero capture you," those set of words caused you to raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean by that?” you questioned as you jerked your head back, reaching up to massage your chin despite the fact that Taishiro was being extremely gentle. “If anything happens involving you...I’ll be the first on the scene, don’t you worry about that,” you assumed this was yet again another one of his half-hearted attempts to convert you.

To show that he’d always protect you and yet you still couldn’t understand why, other than the fact that Taishiro somehow ‘liked’ you. ‘I might have to make that harder for him,' you thought before shifting your glance to the floor. Then a chuckle escaped you which seemed to surprise Taishiro.

“Is something funny there?” he questioned and you shook your head before taking a step forward. “I think I’m going to enjoy this game of cat and mouse,” you stated before reaching up to lay your hand against Taishiro’s cheek, getting somewhat amused as his eyes widened.

Was he truly surprised that you made an affectionate gesture towards him? Somehow it made your smile grow and you stepped away before turning your back to him. Though he was still slightly flustered, he kept his eyes locked on you and the way your hand ran along the top of a nearby shelf.

Your fingers slowly came to one of the picture frames Taishiro had and you traced the side of it before picking it up. "You know..." you began, catching Taishiro's attention as you continued to stare at the picture.

"You really shouldn't trust a vigilante," you said before your fingers grasped the picture frame tightly and you reeled your hand back. The picture frame flew out of your hand towards Taishiro who instinctively put his arms up.

You smirked and quickly grabbed a flower pot, you didn't bother to see if it was real or not. But you didn't picture Taishiro having a lot of time to take care of living plants. Regardless, you used it to shatter the glass of the window.

The thought of how far you'd fall if you were to jump out of said window crossed your mind for a second. But at this point, you'd take your chances. "Hey now!" he lowered his arms, his eyes wide as he felt the cold air come in from the now broken window.

You grinned and quickly jumped onto the shelf, managing to avoid Taishiro's arms that attempted to grab you. The extra fabric of his hoodie seemed to prove useful as you crossed your arms and took a leap of faith out the window.

Despite feeling the remaining shards that stuck out from the corners of the window shred through the fabric of the sleeves. A cold rush of air surrounded you as you descended towards the busy streets below. "Y/n!" Taishiro screamed as he ran towards the window and stuck his head out.

He glanced around before eventually spotting you and judging by the way you were waving, one of two things was clear. Either he was going to chase after you or for the moment, you had won. "Little troublemaker," Taishiro said as he turned and rushed for the elevator. "I'll catch you yet!" he declared with a determined but happy smile.

[pascal-istheway]

Kinktober Day 3

Kink: Sleepy Sex [18+]

Warning: NSFW

Pairing: Frankie Morales X Fem!Reader

Zoe’s notes: There was just this idea of being so exhausted and sleepy and Frankie being so needy and how he would just need you so badly despite the fact that you’re so tired. ugh just let me have this

Word count: 1.4k

KINKTOBER 2021 MASTERLIST

The sound of rain tapped off the window of your small apartment you and Frankie got together last year. You’d spent the better part of a month decorating it, getting the guys to come over from his unit to help rearrange the used furniture you’d bought at a second-hand store knowing it was better to just show up with it in the bed of your old beat-up truck than to ask Frankie if you could buy it. Not that he would have objected anyway. He loved you and seeing the way your face lit up when you found some rare, “one of a kind” antique made him fall in love with you even more. 

You curled up in the blankets wearing his sweatshirt, the smell almost gone after wearing it almost every night for the last six months. Frankie’s unit had been called out on another mission somewhere south of the border, you didn’t bother to ask. Sometimes it was better not to know, the scarce satellite calls only made you miss him more, and knowing where he was would only entice you to hop on a flight and join him - again. Being a journalist had its perks. 

You had joined him once when he told you he was in the same city you were doing a story in. The ass-chewing you got wasn’t nearly as bad as the fucking he gave you for breaking the rules. But not being able to walk straight the next day made it all worth it. God how you missed him.

You drifted off to sleep to the sound of thunder, wishing he was there with you. You could almost hear him whispering your name, telling you “I’m here, my love…” 

As if you were able to pull him from memory, a click of the door pulled you out of a deep slumber, and in walked a very drenched, and very real Frankie. His bag dropped at his side when he saw your sleepy little head pop out from under the blankets, eyes barely registering what you were seeing. 

He kicks off his boots, walking towards you, one piece of clothing coming off at a time as he makes it to the bed almost completely naked. You smile up at him, eyes half-closed, and reach a hand out to touch him but miss, your tired arm falling just short of your mark.

“Hello my sleepy angel,” you hear him whisper as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your temple, “God, did I miss you.”

“Mmmm Frankie, baby, you’re home,” rolling over, you open the blankets which he willingly climbs right in. His warm body wraps around you, hands touching your soft skin beneath his sweatshirt, “Is this mine?” he asks, pulling at the fabric. 

“Mmmhm, I missed you,” you snuggle into his chest, planting soft kisses on the little dusting of hair in the center. You breathe in, smelling him for the first time again since he left. It’s one of the best things you’ve smelled in weeks, feeling like even though the smell had faded from the shirt, it has somehow come back to life in your arms. 

His mouth takes yours, soft and gentle kisses that turn more frantic with each breath. You could feel how much he missed you with each shared breath and you taste the rain on his lips as he parts them, feeling his tongue slip inside your mouth and explore yours. 

Eventually, he tips you on your back, laying you there gently as he hovers over you, and you moan quietly, his hands moving up under the old sweatshirt. You let him move his body against yours, his hips grinding against you as you feel him becoming painfully hard beneath his own boxers. You don’t know exactly how long you make out with him, but it’s long enough that your body has completely relaxed, opening for him completely. 

It’s only when your eyes start to close for a moment too long that you realize you’re painfully close to falling back asleep. “Fuck, Frankie baby, I need you so badly,” you whisper to him in the darkness, lifting your chin to break away from him, “but baby I can’t keep my eyes open… I’m falling asleep here.”

“Can I…” he hesitates, “can I just taste you then?” the words come out as a whisper against your jaw, despite knowing how badly he needs this you feel his cock throb against you at the idea. “Please, I just… it’s been so long, I just need you.”

You nod but warn him, “I might fall asleep… I don’t want you to be offended.” 

“Baby, you couldn’t offend me right now,” he laughs quietly. 

You feel him shift lower in the covers, his hands sliding down your body as he removes your panties. It takes you a moment before a loud sleepy moan escapes your lips at the feeling of his tongue plunging between your folds, lapping your cunt slowly and methodically. 

He spreads your legs for you, massaging your thighs as he sucks and licks, teasing and tasting you, strictly for pleasure. The feeling is undeniably one of the best you’ve ever felt, if only you weren’t half awake. 

“Frankie…. Baby, I-” you feel the familiar wave of pleasure tightening in your belly, “I’m… I’m gonna-” your words get lost around the moaning and sounds of his tongue driving deep into you. His fingers find their way to your center, probing you one at a time as he massages your walls with his thick finger. 

Your back arches as your cunt clenches around him, the feeling overwhelming you as your orgasm rips through your core. Legs tightening and shaking at the feeling while his tongue laps away at you, drinking every last bit of you. 

“Fu-fuck…” you whisper, your hands unclenching from the sheets and weaving into his hair. 

“That’s right baby, just like that,” the words tickle your skin as he crawls back up and moves behind you. His hands fumbled with the last of his own clothing, the fabric being slowly lowered behind you so you can feel his bare legs brushing against yours, the small hairs tickling the back of your legs. 

“Baby,” you feel his hands slide down over your ass, squeezing your plump flesh as he goes, “can I just slip inside, just for a minute?” 

If you’d been awake, you’d laugh at the fact that he’s even asking, but in your sleepy state, you just push your ass into his hips, grinding slightly against his cock. A moan escapes his own throat as his hands part your folds and he rubs his fingers in your slick moisture before rubbing himself with it. You feel his breath pick up, the warmth tickling the back of your neck as he lines himself up with your center and slips the head inside. 

His cock pulses against your flesh, his restraint is failing as he thrusts softly into you to fully sheath himself. The sound he makes comes out strangled, like a wounded animal. Then he starts moving, slowly and thoughtfully, to the point where it’s almost painful.

The speed picks up slightly, the sound of your skin together starting to echo from under the sheets. You feel his lips come to your shoulder as he plants a kiss softly on your skin. 

“Ba-baby… fuck, I can’t hold my-myself much longer,” he grunts into the crook of your neck, teeth sinking down as you let you a moan of your own. 

“Do what you need, I’m right here for you,” your hand reaches around and holds his hip as he pushes himself into you over and over again. 

“Fuck, that-” he thrusts harder, “god damn it why are you s’so perfect?”

His breath becomes ragged as his thrusting becomes harder, his hands snaking up the sweatshirt you wear to grab your breast. You feel his cock swell inside you, stretching you as he fills you completely. You can tell he’s on the verge of orgasm, his sounds becoming more wild and uncontrolled as he lets himself go. 

The waves of orgasm hit you all at once, your pussy clenching him for dear life as he pours himself deep inside you in short, deep thrusts. The fullness in your belly holds you in your orgasm, your tight hole becoming unbearably tight around him. 

“Fu-fuck,” he breathes into your hair, kissing you slightly as he pulls himself out. 

You don’t remember him getting out of bed or cleaning you up, but you barely register him crawling in behind you and wrapping you in his arms, pulling you close to his naked body and whispering, “this sweatshirt looks so damn good on you,” before both of you drift off to sleep together. 

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter Fifteen

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3060

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Bucky has a nightmare and one thing blows up, that's it.

<< Previous Next>>

Masterlist

We had been flying for a while now and the sun had finally gone down. I had cleaned up the bullet graze on my side earlier with the onboard first aid kit, it had now started to heal itself seamlessly back into my skin like it was never there to begin with.

Bucky had never once taken his eyes off the sky since we took off. I had asked him a few more questions right after we started flying steady, but he just pressed his lips into a firm line. He was like an impenetrable wall and it was throwing me off. What had they done to the Bucky I grew up with, where was the bright, smiling love of my life? I sat there staring at the parts of his face that peaked through the mop of messy brown hair he had.

“Stop staring at me.” The sudden sound of his voice startled me enough that my elbow slipped from the place where it was perched on my knee. I quickly turned away from him in my chair and started to look out of the window into the dark.

“Sorry, it’s just,” I stopped short to think of what to say next. “It’s just that I thought you were gone. Steve watched you fall from the train. I mourned you, I was still mourning you. Now you’ve shown up and I barely recognize the man in front of me.”

He took his hands off the yoke and pressed some buttons to presumably turn autopilot on. “I have no memory of any of that. Flashes, yes, but never anything substantial.”

“I know and that’s okay, it’s to be expected. I followed you for a reason and help you remember is part of that.” I told him softly. I had no clue what he had been thinking for the last seventy years, but I knew it wasn’t something that could be fixed in just a couple of hours. The fact that he was talking to me with less hostility than before gave me the hope that I needed to know that I could help him.

Turning his head away he lets out a gruff sigh. “We’ll be landing in a couple of hours, get some sleep.” He gave me a soft look through the curtain of hair before going back into that stone-cold guise.

I nodded in acceptance and slowly stood and made my way to the bench that lined the side of the cabin. I laid down on the cold metal and let the sounds of the jet lull me to sleep.

When I woke up the cabin lights had been turned off and it was almost completely pitch black, save for the few flashing buttons on the control panels. I sat up and noticed that the jet was quiet. The noise from flying was long gone but the sounds of the night could be heard throughout. I looked around the cabin groggily to see that the back ramp was lowered to the ground. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stood up. Squinting in the dark I could faintly see something standing a few feet out from the ramp in the grassy field.

I made my way down into the tall grass and stood next to Bucky's statue-like form. He was silently looking up at the sky. We stood there like that for a few minutes before he slowly bent down to reach into the duffel bag we had packed earlier. It was sitting on the ground with a few other bags from the jet. Standing back up he reached out his hand toward me and I brought my hand out to meet him, he gently placed one of the grenades into my palm.

“What’s this for?” I asked while examining the device.

“Were destroying the jet.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh, why?”

“Unless you want HYDRA to come to find us, I suggest you pull that pin and throw.” At that, he unpinned his and tossed it into the jet cabin. It took me a second to comprehend what was happening. I was still half asleep as he snatched the grenade away from me and tossed it in as well. Just seconds later I was thrown off balance from the large explosion.

“You’re lucky none of my things were on there,” I spoke up while watching the flames encompass the dismantled jet.

“Quit talking and grab a bag, we have a long walk ahead,” he said in a scolding tone. I turned to watch him grab the large duffel bag, leaving me to carry the smaller backpack. I grabbed the strap and hoisted it up onto my back and slid my other arm through the second strap then started after him.

“Where are we exactly? I questioned as we maneuvered around a giant hole in the field.

“Maybe a three-hour walkout of Bucharest.” He stated. I groaned after hearing that. I just woke up, walking for three hours to get to the Romanian capital in the middle of the night wasn’t entirely my idea of fun. But I put up with it, barely entertaining myself by picking flowers growing along our path and then plucking off their petals like I used to do as a child. That only lasted for so long before I started to get bored, the next thing I tried was to kick a rock I had found when we had made it to a paved road. I had to stop kicking it after I had accidentally hit Bucky in the back of the legs. His sharp glare stopped me in my tracks.

The sun was coming up now, as we topped a hill that looked out into the capital city. I slowed my walk to take in the awakening city, there were severely cars driving the roads, probably going off to work. I sped up my steps as soon as I realized that Bucky had just kept going and didn’t stop to take in the morning splendor with me.

I spoke as I came back up to his side, “So what do we do now?” He let out a frustrated puff of air and I could tell that he was getting annoyed at all of my questions. He never answered me, just kept walking down the street and into the heart of the city.

It must have been past lunchtime when we finally found a shabby almost decrepit-looking apartment building. I could feel and hear my stomach rumbling as we ascended the long spiraling set of stairs to one of the topmost apartments. We had no key to get in so Bucky kicked the door in and shuffled inside. I doubted that anyone would even realize that we were here, the whole thing looked almost completely vacant. I walked through the threshold and into the tiny living space. It was just one small room, just big enough for one or two people to live comfortably, and a singular closed-off bathroom right after you came through the front door.

Looking around some more, the more I realized this apartment building truly was abandoned. The sheetrock walls were chipping along with the paint. In the kitchen, the backsplash was cracked and missing in some spots, the fridge looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in thirty years, the same as everything else in the almost empty room. The only thing in the place that wasn't attached to anything was a small square dining table and two chairs with several years of dust caked onto them. The windows and the door to the back balcony had been covered up with various newspaper pages, adding to the dark and dingy aspect.

Bucky sat the duffel bag onto the table, I placed the backpack down as well. Walking over to the kitchen and flipped the light switch, amazingly the bright strip light above the sink on the far wall came buzzing to life. I gave a silent prayer in thanks for that. I was startled a bit when I heard a loud splintering noise beside me. Turning quickly I spotted Bucky ripping up the wooden floorboards in the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Hiding the weapons, what does it look like I’m doing,” He quipped back sharply as he reached for the bags on the table just a few inches away. He shoved them into the hole he had made and then placed the broken planks back where they had been. He stood up slowly after that and began walking for the front door. “Stay here,” he gave a stern look then stepped out into the stairwell, slamming the broken door shut.

I just stared wide-eyed at the door. ‘Did he really just leave me here?’ I asked myself. I went over to the door he had left from and opened it, his footsteps were long gone. I raced to the first window in what was presumably the living room and tore a piece of newspaper from it to look and see if I could spot him but the wall of the balcony was in my way. I gave a long and exasperated huff before turning around and giving the room another once over. ‘Well, it can't hurt to clean a bit. There had to be at least something in here that I can clean with.’ And I was right, I found a stack of four washcloths along with a couple of bath towels under the bathroom sink and a very old broom sitting just outside the back door.

It took almost two hours to scrub the grime from the floors after I had swept the thick layer of dirt and dust-up, and it took even longer to scrub down the kitchen appliances. It had been nearly five hours and Bucky still wasn’t back yet, I had cleaned everything I could until it was almost spotless. It had helped me keep my mind off of where he was and what he was doing, it also helped to keep me from remembering how hungry I was. But now that everything was almost sparkling clean I had nothing to stop my mind from wandering. ‘He wouldn’t just leave, would he? No, not after hiding all the guns. What the hell is he even doing out there? I swear to God he better bring back something to eat, five hours is ridiculous, it's already dark outside.’

I reached my hand up to fiddle with my locket and ring absentmindedly. Fear started to creep into my thoughts. I paced up and down from the front door to the back over and over again until the door suddenly flew open. Swiveling around from my spot just past the bathroom I watched as a mattress made its way through the door. I hurried over to help maneuver it into the tiny hallway, it smelled horrendous like it had been outside for a while. After struggling to pull it into the living room and throwing it to the ground I looked up at Bucky who had been the one to bring it in. He was standing awkwardly at the edge of the room with a few plastic bags around his wrists. Shaking his head a little he made his way to the dining table and placed the bags down. Whatever was inside made a soft clicking sound before falling out of the top to reveal a jar of chicken soup.

I practically ran to the table and snatched the can up. “I forgive you for being gone so long since you brought back food,” I said as I made my way into the kitchen to turn the stove on. We had no pots at the moment so I cracked open the can and placed it in the middle of the eye to heat it up. As I waited I went back over to the bags he laid out and rummaged through them, taking all the cans, bagged food, and the few pieces of silverware out and placing them on the table. The last bag, closest to the wall, had a couple of items of clothes that looked to be in both of our sizes and a few toiletries. “Where did you get all of this?” I asked as he sat in one of the chairs.

“Soup kitchens and shelters,” he said pointing to the food, clothes, and toiletries, then he pointed to the mattress, “and the side of the road.” My face scrunched up at that. There was no telling what was all over that filthy thing. From where I was standing I looked like it had been dropped in the dirt a couple of times. I was going to have to find something to get that smell out of it before I even considered sleeping anywhere near it.

“Do you want some of this soup?” I turned back to the stove to check on the can.

“No,” he responded gruffly before standing to his feet, grabbing his pair of fresh clothes and the soap from the table before heading into the bathroom. I watched after him until the door completely shut behind him, by then the soup was at a nice simmer. I took it off the eye, using one of the washcloths as a potholder before it began to boil over. Grabbing one of the spoons Bucky had brought back I settled down at one of the chairs and began to eat my nice warm dinner. Halfway through scarfing down the soup, I decided to put some on for him even though he said no.

After I finished eating Bucky emerged from the bathroom with sopping wet hair in a pair of loose grey sweatpants and a red long sleeve henley. I eyed him before getting up to throw my can away and set the used spoon in the sink. I grabbed the now warmed Chicken soup from the stovetop and walked to place it in front of him without saying a word. Then I moved to grab the extra pair of clothes he had brought back and headed for the shower.

Finally being able to take off the suit was a big relief. Yes, it was made to be comfortable, but it wasn’t made to spend two days in. Turning the water on and stepping into the warm stream felt even more wonderful, the sweat and grime of the fight the day before began to rinse from my hair and off my body. I stood there, unmoving for what felt like hours before grabbing the three in one body wash from the side of the tub. I shook my head, if we were going to be living here for a while, and I had a feeling we were, I was going to have to find some real shampoo and conditioner, but hey, beggars can't be choosers when you’re on the run and in hiding.

When I felt as though I was completely and thoroughly clean, I stopped the water, rung out my hair, and grabbed one of the bath towels I spotted under the sink earlier to dry off. Then I got myself dressed in the fresh pair of underwear, which I was surprised to see, a long sleeve black t-shirt and an identical pair of gray sweatpants to Buckys, only smaller. Making my way out of the steaming bathroom I noticed Bucky wasn’t at the table anymore. I glanced around, finally landing on him lying on his back beside the mattress, looking like he was sleeping, which he most likely wasn’t. I smiled fondly, he must have wanted me to take the mattress for myself. Although I didn’t want to be rude by not sleeping on it, I chose to find a spot on the floor until the thing could be as thoroughly cleaned as I could get it.

Laying down on my side facing Bucky, I watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath he took. It was hypnotic, that with the quiet faint sound of his heartbeat, I began to fall asleep.

I awoke a couple of hours later to the sounds of small shouts and heavy, labored breathing. I snapped up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Turning my head to Bucky I took in the sight of him thrashing in his sleep before slowly crawling over to him. I tenderly placed my hand on his shoulder in hopes that maybe it would help calm him.

“Bucky,” I whispered close to his ear, “Bucky woke up. It’s just a dream.” Gently moving my right hand up to remove the sweat-dampened hair out of his face. As my hand came to rest on his clenched jaw, his metal arm came up to seize my wrist. I gasped at the force but didn’t try to snatch my hand back. His eyes were still closed, he was still asleep. He was mumbling something incoherent, I leaned in closer to see if I could hear him better but it was still unintelligible. “It’s okay Buck, I’m here, I’ll always be here. Shh.” I tried to quiet him, and it worked for a few seconds before he started to thrash his head from side to side and his grip on my wrist became stiff and unyielding. All I could do was sit there and whisper into his ear as he gripped onto me for what seemed like dear life.

Several minutes of on and off thrashing about I heard him say something that made my heart stop. He called out my name. I hadn't told him my name at any point in the past two days. The sound of it coming off of his lips sent a spark through me, my heart fluttered and my stomach tightened. He remembered, even if it was subconsciously, he still remembered. I smiled at that before going back to trying to calm his sleeping figure.

At some point, he calmed down to the point where I no longer had to kneel next to him and calm him. He never let go of my wrist throughout the whole ordeal, even now he was still gripping it like a vice. I just left it there as I laid back down on my side and let sleep consume me once more.

The next morning, he was nowhere to be found.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila @andy-is-gay

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Ten

Read on AO3

“We can’t stay here.” 

 “No, we can’t.” Jamie pulled his wife onto his bare chest. “And wee Hamish has sent a letter, requesting his cousin’s aide. Though he was vague on which, I’m sure he wasna comfortable writing Jamie Fraser on something the English could see.” 

 “So we go to Leoch with Fergus?” 

“I willna put ye in danger, the travel there will be treacherous now wi’ the English on our throats everywhere.” 

 “Well, I’m certainly not leaving you, James Fraser. Have you forgotten I’m wanted too? We go together. And, with us gone, Lallybroch will be safer, we’ll be safer for a while. But…” 

 “What is it Sassenach?” 

 “I know you and the sea aren’t close friends, but ports shouldn’t be as monitored as they were right after Culloden. The islands will be safer, Charles even fled to the Isle of Skye to go to France. In the future, some islands are even able to retain some of their culture, their tartan. We can always go there, it would be safer while we wait… for a pardon.” 

 “A pardon?” He was shocked. 

 “Yes. When I returned I placed three letters in the post at Inverness. Copies of historical letters I assume. They may give us the freedom we want.” 

 A sharp breath escaped his lips and he slumped back on the chair. “Christ, a pardon. You know how well that went the last time.” 

 “But this time there’s no more war, we’re done with that horror.” 

 “Aye, we’ll seek Hamish, then if we canna stay, we’ll bide on one of the wee islands.”

 “What’s this about ye up and leaving Jamie Fraser! And dinna think I’m not cross wi’ ye too Claire!”

 “Jenny,” Claire took her hand, “you know it isn’t safe for us to stay here. We got lucky the last time.” 

 “And I’ll no’ have my wife sleeping in a cave.”

 “Well, ye two eejits could at least wait ‘til yer goddaughter is christened! Ye dinna ha’ to leave wi’ yer tails tucked between yer legs so soon.” 

 “Goddaughter.” Her heart warmed and she squeezed Jenny’s arm.

 “I ken yer already her aunt, but ye’d make a fine goddaughter to the lass. I suppose that would make yer daft husband her godfather. Puir lass.” She feigned pity for the tiny girl in her arms. “Would the both o’ ye wait, jes’ one more day?” 

 Claire looked back at Jamie but already knew their answer. “Of course.” 

 The ceremony was brief, the priest wasn’t prepared to perform it so soon. Caitlin gurgled up at Claire in her arms. The holy water was sprinkled over her tiny forehead in the small kirk near Lallybroch. Other than the slight cry from the chill of water, Caitlin was a perfect baby. The Frasers and Murrays all joined back together to Lallybroch to celebrate. They enjoyed a small stew of rabbit and potato, the most filling one in weeks. Father Ross had the death certificate for Fergus ready to sign, but on seeing the boy alive and healthy, he walked towards the fire in the Great Room. 

 “Wait,” Claire shouted to his back. “Don’t burn it. Jenny, will you sign that?” 

 “He’s clearly no’ deid Claire, are ye off yer heid?” 

 “No, it’s just, it’s important that the document isn’t destroyed. I can’t explain how.” 

 “Verra weel.” She plucked it out of the Father’s hands and went off to the study. She mumbled, knowing long ago not to question her sister's strange nature. 

 Claire had ripped through the fabric of her dresses and the contents of her leather bag to pull out every piece of gold, silver, and jewellery that was left during the hours waiting for Father Ross. It was little less than three years’ salary in her time, but now it would support Lallybroch for years to come. She dumped it all out on the dining and the jewels, gold, and silver scattered and clattered against the wood surface. She had put away some for her and Jamie of course, enough to be comfortable on their journey, but even with the small dent into the funds on the table, it was still an astounding sum. Jamie spied her wedding ring on a chain within the pile and raised a brow to her, but she shrugged her shoulders in reply. 

 “A christening gift.” 

 Everyone at the table stared dumbfounded at the treasure disorganised on the table. A ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ’ was supplied by her son. 

 “How Claire?” Ian piped up. 

 “I didn’t steal it if that’s what you're asking.”

 “Well, how on earth did ye find so much?” Jenny yelled, exasperated. 

 “It was my inheritance from my parents and uncle. And the man whose advances I turned down…gave some of it to me.” 

 “Jesus, Mary, and Bride, ye’ve been hiding this away all this time?” 

 “No, I’ve just recently acquired it myself. But now, it can be put to good use instead of rotting in some bank. Take it, Jenny, use it to save Lallybroch from the famine, clearances, and drought to come.”

 Jenny planted a sloppy kiss onto Claire’s cheek and handed Caitlin over to Ian. She grabbed her arms and began jumping excitedly. Claire even thought she heard a squeal from the small woman. Displays of affection from the woman were rare, and Claire felt so happy and touched that she included her in it. 

 “Claire ye have no idea how this will help us.” 

 “I have some idea.” 

 Their packing was done, and the horses were all lined up for the journey. Jenny embraced Claire, and she was reminded of the parting before Culloden all over again. 

 “Ye come back to us sister,” she raised her voice to a shout so Jamie could hear, “I dinna care much if this oaf does.” 

 “I love ye too Janet.” He pulled her from Claire into a giant hug. 

 “Och, ye ken I love ye too, a bràithair. Now, try to come back to us as quick as ye can. Lallybroch will be missing her Laird.”  

 A plant along the trail made Claire pause. It was a forget me not, and though it was only the beginning of March, it was blooming brilliantly against the grass of the glen. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that they were so close to the standing stones when she found it. She knew they needed to go back together, for closure. So she jumped off her horse and scooped her hands into the dirt. 

 “Jamie I want to go to Craigh na Dun before we stop into Inverness.” 

 Jamie pulled back on the reins of his horse and stalled in the middle of the path before Claire. He looked down at his wife and the flowers in her hands.

 “If you don’t want to that’s fine, I just wanted to plant these there, and we might never get another chance to do so.” 

 “Aye, we’ll go.”

 He dismounted his horse in one swift move. Carefully, Jamie helped Claire back up to her horse without crushing the delicate flowers in the process. Jamie passed the reins of his own horse to his son and climbed up behind his wife on her mare. 

 “Fergus, be a good lad and find a place to shelter in Inverness. Something not too in the open, or conspicuous either.” Jamie pulled out the bag of coins and tossed it to him. 

 “Oui, milord. I shall not fail you.” 

 Milord and papa, milady and maman, had become as interchangeable to Fergus as Jamie’s Sassenach, mo gràidh, mo nighean donn, and the countless other affectionate names he could come up with for his wife. 

 “Now off wi’ ye son, we’ll be shortly after.” 

 They held tight to each other, not able to bear even a second of lost connection. Fog clung to the air surrounding the tall monoliths and blocked the vision to the moor below. 

 “I wish I could punch it. But it won’t even let me do that.” 

 “How about this one to the side. Not too much danger of falling in fer yer wee hand.”

 She pulled slightly apart from him for the first time since they created the hi together. Her arm trembled as she reached out to lightly touch the stone closest to the centre one. Though it had become an unwitting victim of its brother’s actions, it would have to do. Lining up her arm, she delivered the first blow that jolted from the cold surface to the bones of her arm and shoulders 

 “Fuck you!” She screamed a gut-wrenching cry as she slammed her fist into the rock. “Fuck you! Fuck!”

 Her breath hitched and Jamie gathered her once again in his arms. He kissed her skinned knuckles. Giving her a few minutes to calm her racing heart and heaving lungs, Jamie cradled her tight to his chest, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. How many more tears would she cry, for something that was only the size of a blueberry? She knew she’d never lose the feeling of grief, but it would become more manageable most days. With her husband there to bear it with her, she knew it would be a certainty. 

 “I’m ready.” She patted his chest. “Are you?” 

 “Aye.” 

 “Do you want to punch it too?” 

 “No, that bastard stone’s taken too much from us. I won’t give it the satisfaction of flesh and blood from my hands as weel.” 

 She wanted to reach out and cradle the voice she had once heard to her chest, protect her against the violence of the stones. But it seemed it was her daughter instead who protected her. Digging the small hole into the ground by the outer stones, she smiled tearfully. Jamie’s strong hands were right beside hers, guiding the dirt away. Together they scooped the small plant into their hands, a mismatch of Jamie’s on top of Claire’s and then Claire’s on top of Jamie’s. They patted the dirt mound and encased the stems in the nutrients. With the task finished, Claire fell into Jamie’s lap and began to weep. She stroked his shirt with dirtied hands and left stains on the white linen. He rubbed the fabric on her back and Claire felt the moisture fall onto her hair and slowly down to her scalp. She offered him her sgian dubh and he etched into the centre stone with sharp angles, leaving the blade there as a gift.  Baby Fraser.  Claire’s hand trembled in his grip and she was almost consoled by the fact that she could feel his shaking too; he didn’t hide how it affected him as well. “I trust yer grandsire and grandmam are keeping ye out o’ trouble  a leannan . I love you. Tell Faith I love her too, and I ken she protects ye up there, but jes’ because she’s older doesna mean ye canna protect her as weel. Jes’ like I do fer yer auntie. Ye mind what yer family says, and we’ll meet again soon enough.” 

 Claire knelt down and gently cradled the small flower in her hand. “I love you, my baby girl. We love you so much.” 

 Jamie ripped off a strip from his sark and wrapped it around her bloodied knuckles with a kiss. They stayed to talk to the stone for a while. Jamie laughed with Claire after sharing an incident from his boyhood about a goat, some string, a bucket of shite, and his sister. Claire pulled out the photos from within her pockets and shared her child-self to their daughters, and the interesting marvels of the future. Jamie was proud he recognised the ‘airyplane’ from when Claire brought out the black and white pictures in the cave. He was bewildered of course at first, cursing the strange magic, but once he saw the brilliant smile of his Sassenach he knew the depiction couldn’t hold any evil. He especially liked seeing her as a bairn, with pigtails and a pink frilly dress and how the photos showed the change from cute baby to mature woman. She set one into the plastic wrap, a photo of her, her parents, and her uncle and buried it beneath the earth. 

 “Your family is with you always, my darling girl.” 

 With one last glance, they rode back to Inverness holding each other on the saddle. 

 Their short stay in Inverness was that: short. After the first night of full bellies and a warm fire, the innkeeper alerted the travellers to the presence of redcoats fifteen miles away. It gave them time to prepare themselves, instead of another hasty retreat to Leoch. 

 It was not nearly as strong of a fortress as it had once been. 

 Claire was put to use straight away, mending flesh and bone. Jamie was spirited away as well to advise his cousin in the Laird’s Tower. The only bright spot was the wonderful Mrs. Fitz. Fergus spent much of his time messing around the surgery and playing with the medicines, much to Claire’s annoyance. No matter how many times he insisted it would not happen again, his nimble little fingers were constantly filching items off of shelves and tables. So she sent him off to the kitchens.

 The ledgers had become impossible, and Leoch was close to ruin from partially funding the Jacobite cause. They felt the sharp absence of those who had fought bravely alongside them. None were left. Most of the men residing in the lands were either too old, too young, or too crippled to fight. There was talk of taking up a deal with the British, to leave Leoch and settle somewhere comfortable in America. Hamish was inclined to that option more and more each day. The Lairdship was not an easy thing for a twelve-year-old, let alone under such stress of a post-war climate. So, it was decided that the MacKenzies would sell Leoch to the British for land somewhere deep in Virginia. As much as it pained them to leave their culture and homeland in the hands of those bastards, they had no other choice. The lands produced nothing, the woodlands sparse, and their supplies pilfered by roaming soldiers. Claire felt guilty for the small amount of gold tucked into her dresses, but she told herself the amount she was left with couldn’t save them all. They stayed in constant communication with Jenny through letters and informed her of their impending move. Jenny wrote back to her cousins,  Alexander and Elizabeth Malcolm , just as often, if not more eager to know they were safe. 

 In the blistering heat of the summer, Claire, Jamie, and Fergus travelled in the safety of the band of MacKenzies. Virtually no redcoats bothered them on their way, patriot to king and country as the Laird most certainly was in their eyes. 

 At Ullapool, they said their last goodbyes as they split to different destinations. Jamie couldn’t possibly survive a month-long journey across the water. They purchased passage on the  Serendipity  and waited. 

 Jamie wretched off the side of the gangway as the ship made port. Stornoway, and from there they would hopefully find somewhere to settle down. A croft, north of Stornoway soon came to their attention. Most of their money went to purchase the land outright, they weren't too keen to rent one out as other crofters did, knowing the clearances would hit Scotland hard. So, Alexander Malcolm, his wife, and his son, began to build a home out of the small abandoned cottage. They hoped it would be temporary but would be fine if it wasn’t, for they had all they needed already: each other.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

From Eden: One

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, mentions of mental illness; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The mc suffers from agoraphobia. After a new neighbour moves in across the street, her home becomes even more of a prison.

Note: So I've decided to try something new. I'm hoping that you don't mind the new format. This story is written in first person in the form of diary entries. Transcripts will be included at the end of chapters to accomodate any who have issues reading the images.

I am still working on Omerta but chapter 12 is taking me a little bit longer to complete so hopefully this can tide you over until tomorrow. Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Transcript:

Sunday

It rained today. I hoped it would break the humidity but the air is still balmy and thick. The garden is starting to droop without the usual June sunlight. The shrubs look healthy but I don’t know if the mums will bloom. It is late for them.

The windows are clouded now the rain is gone. Once they dry, it will be suffocating again. I should have pulled out the old patio set last weekend but Lorena was here for the groceries. My meds are running low, I’ll have to remind her.

Oh, I found the old afghan grandma used to use. The one with the knitted flowers. Not a single hole. I’ll wash it and hang it over the loveseat in the lounge. It still smells of her. It’ll be two years next week. I miss her.

The kettle is whistling. Lorena bought a new flavour of tea; a spiced rooibos. It smells more suited to the winter but I’m anxious to try. It’ll boil over if I keep writing. 

I found a documentary on a country house in the British Midlands. I might watch that with my tea. Or maybe fall asleep on the couch. Again.

Monday

I have a new neighbour.

Today, I went out to check the bulbs I planted two weeks ago. I don’t think they’ll bud. It was humid and I had sweat in my eyes as the large truck pulled up across the street. The orange moniker on its side was faded and its white paint was almost yellow. I peeked out the gate as they backed it up. 

The beeping was horrible, almost deafening.

A car was just behind it. I shouldn’t be so curious but grandma always said I was a watcher. Watching is easy; doing is… difficult. 

My new neighbour is a man. He has dark hair and a thick beard. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the rest of him. His arm shone in the sunlight. It’s metal! I’ve never seen anything like it. I never saw a prosthetic that ended in anything but a hook or a blunt stump. I guess, I never really thought much about it.

I think he saw me too. It is hard to see behind the ivy that covers the front gate but I swore he could see me. I hid before I could make sure of it. It’s rude to stare. That’s what grandma would say. So went back to the flower bed and dug up the bulbs. They were dead.Lorena is coming tomorrow. I’ll ask her to grab more.

Tuesday

Lorena came buy today. She commented about my new neighbour. I acted surprised.

I gave her my list and reminded her of my pills. She was gone for a while before she returned. When she returned, I helped her bring in the bags. We unpacked them and she told me about her new niece; Cora. I think that’s a pretty name but Lorena thinks it’s too old fashioned. She said I would like it given my usual tastes. 

She asked if I was wearing grandma’s shirt. I lied and said I wasn’t.

I showed her the garden and she had some tea after helping me set up the heavy iron patio set with the mosaic tabletop. 

She showed me pictures of Cora. She said when she marries Shelby, she wants to adopt but her sister offered to be her surrogate. I thought that was nice.She left shortly after. I’m in the garden, staring at the old shed as I write. The frame around the window is starting to fall apart. I should fix it soon. And maybe clean the--

Later

The man was at the gate. The one with the metal arm. He scared me.

I hid behind the ivy as I looked out at him. His eyes are very blue. Piercing. Despite the heat, they made me want to shiver. His metal fingers wrapped around one of the curlicues of the gate. He said hello and that his name was Bucky.

I nearly swallowed my tongue as I ran away. I didn’t dare grab my diary until the sunset. He was gone, thank god. I hope he doesn’t come back.

Wednesday

Doctor Tisha called today. She wants me to come in at the end of the month to have my prescriptions reviewed. I told her they were helping much better than the old ones. No more vertigo or manic fits, but my dreams are really vivid. She also reminded me that I should make more of an effort to go beyond the garden. The pills can’t do all the work. Well, I think there are parts of me that just can’t be fixed.

I cleaned out the birdbath but the shed window is still drooping. There’s a spider web above the door and I’m working up the courage to open it. My grandma was always the brave one; she called her slippers ‘the exterminators’. She always made me laugh.

Then the man returned. His knuckles make an odd clinking on the gate when he knocks. I didn’t move at first. I’d rather have faced the spider and her web. But he kept on and it was getting rather annoying.

He pulled some of the ivy aside as I got close. I kept to the edge and peeked out at him. He held a box of freesias. 

“Hey again.” 

 He speaks as if he knows me. I don’t like that. He didn’t even care that I didn’t answer. 

“I see you like to garden so I thought I’d bring you some flowers. To introduce myself…. Better. I’m sorry if I scared you yesterday.”

I didn’t know what to say. The freesias were all shades of red, orange, and yellow. Young with a bit of growing still to do. I shook my head.

“You don’t want them?” He asked.

I frowned so hard it hurt my cheeks. I haven’t talked to anyone by Lorena or Doctor Tisha since grandma died. I was never good at that.

“No, I don’t know you.” I felt as if it was someone else talking.

He blinked and I suddenly felt very dizzy. I ran back to the shed and ripped the door open without thinking. The web caught in my hair as I slammed it shut behind me. I sat in the shadows as I tried to wipe away the web. The old rubbermaid lid warped beneath me, if not cracked. 

 I didn’t come out until the musty air made me sick. As I ran into the house, I noticed he had left the flowers on the other side of the gate. I locked the door behind me and shuddered. I swore I felt eight legs crawling down my arm.

Thursday

Sure enough, the flowers are still there. They haven’t wilted at all despite the intense heat of the sun. June is in full effect and the days get brighter and longer. 

 I found the old weather vane grandma said was swept away in a storm. It was hidden behind the row hedges along the stone wall around the yard. It’s bent but fixable.

 I went inside to eat at noon. I looked out the window as I ate; the strawberries were sour. I saw a shadow through the gate. I watched for a while, sure it was the shifting of the sun. Then I saw the metal fingers and the man’s square jaw as he tried to see past the ivy. He knelt and touched the dainty petals of the freesia. He lifted one of the small pots to sniff and placed it back in the box.

He left shortly after. I won’t go back out. I need to work on the house anyway. All this dust is making me sneeze.

Friday

The flowers are still there.

I refuse to look at them. Instead I focus on my own. I brought the old sony tape deck out to listen to the radio. Grandma always said it was older than me. I believe her. The speakers crackle and the antenna kept falling off.

The robins and sparrows were at the birdbath and a pair of cardinals have taken up in the old painted birdhouse around the back. The squirrels broke the window frame on the shed. Well, I’ll deal with that next week.

The flowers are starting to bloom nicely. I thought they might not, given the late showers and the sudden drought. 

There was a monarch butterfly by the carnations. It flew away before I got too close. My mother liked monarchs. I remember she had one framed in her room. Like the picture of her in grandma’s.

I try not to think of her. Or grandma, too much. 

It makes me sad. Doctor Tisha says this isn’t grandma’s house anymore, it’s mine. My life is mine, she tells me. It’s never really felt like it but I’m trying.

Saturday

The lock on the gate is broken and the flowers are gone. They didn’t go far. I found them planted by the lilies. I had tears in my eyes and my hands shook terribly as I wound an old bike lock around the gate. I picked up the pieces of the old latch. It’s totally ruined.

I haven’t been out since. I’m scared. Was it him? 

It seems like a kind gesture but the memory of the busted lock makes me think otherwise.I’m confused. What does he want?

He should’ve let the flowers wilt and die. Or maybe I should just learn to tell people to leave me alone. Out loud.

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 11)

tw: mentions of vomiting, pregnancy, miscarriage 

wc: 4.2k 

masterlist!

series masterlist!

“I apologize in advance for the way this letter is going to be. It’s going to be a mess of my word vomit that is poorly strung together and probably won’t make any sense. The pages are going to be tear-soaked and ripped, kind of like me right now. I feel tattered and torn and achy and bruised. I’m physically fine, but mentally? I’m at my absolute low. The lowest of lows, even though I should be better. I was better for a while, because I still had you. Even after we broke up I was better, because I still had coffee with you at work and we sort of started speaking to each other again. Leaving is hard, but I know with time I’ll be better again. I won’t be at this rock-bottom this forever. 

Speaking of, I should really tell you where I’m at. Physically, it is 1:36 am EST on February 15th. I am still at the kitchen table in that red blanket. The way it smells like you has gone from revolting to comforting in the last few hours of writing. My hand is aching. I have the locket on my neck and I’m incessantly playing with it and opening it to see your face. I haven’t eaten. If I did I’m afraid I’d just puke it all up, so instead I’m half way through a bottle of red and well on my way to a second. I need it. You know what the next part is, Spence, so can you really blame me?

I’ve decided to combine these next two mementos; I feel like they just go together naturally. They tell the same story and they’re both important to that said story. Grab the tissues, Love, you’re gonna need ‘em.”

Spencer did as you asked, reaching to his nightstand and grabbing the box of tissues that was already half empty from how much he had used them in the last fourteen hours. His nose was red and sore from the constant blowing and sniffling. The box felt hollow when he lifted it, and he couldn’t help but relate to it. 

“It all started a month or so after that conversation on the balcony; the one between me, you, and the moon. I felt sick. We weren’t surprised and if I’m being honest, being “careful” had taken a backseat. Don’t think I’m complaining, because I’m not. I loved every moment I ever got to spend with you, especially in those compromising positions we found ourselves in often. I love the way you loved me, so gently, so kindly, with passion and heart. I loved feeling you love me, and you loved me often. So, naturally, we weren’t shocked when I woke up each morning throwing up. I purposely ignored the way my boobs hurt and my hip bones ached. I wasn’t surprised, but I was still terrified. Loaning out your body to another human being is scary. But you? 

It’s like you had this sixth sense. You knew immediately, before I even had a clue. Every day for a week you rubbed my back, held my hair, and soothed me. You got me saltines and ginger ale every day, gently told me to stop with the coffee and deli meats. The way you cared for me during it all made it okay, more than okay. It made me excited. I felt lucky to share that experience with a man like you. I was lucky to share that experience with you. I can say with 100% certainty I will never share it with anyone except you, because no one except you would stop at Walgreens and pick up a box of ClearBlue for their cranky, definitely pregnant girlfriend. You’re the only one who would run to the store when I couldn’t physically eat anything but potato chips and raspberry Arizona Iced Tea. You’re the only one I’d want holding me on the bathroom floor as we waited for the longest three minutes of our lives. You’re the only one I wanted to scoop me up in a hug when it said ‘pregnant’. You’re the only one I’d ever want to be the dad of my kids. That’s just it Spence, you were the one. The only one. I realize that now.”

Spencer shook as he picked up the test in his hands. It felt delicate, and sacred, like it was a relic. Actually, everything in that box felt like a relic, like holy objects that he had to cherish and safeguard. His chest tightened, but he couldn’t cry. He was all out of tears. He spun it, staring at those eight letters, remembering when he bought the test. 

It was Father’s day, ironically enough, and he had gone into the BAU to do some paperwork. You were too sick to come too; you had woken up at four to start your new-found morning routine of shoving your head into the toilet. He woke up with you, saltines and ginger ale in hand as he rubbed circles into your back and whispered ‘you’re okay, I’ve got you’ in between your gagging noises. It was good practice for being a dad, he thought. Waking up at any beck and call of yours would be similar to a newborn, and he needed all the practice he could get. 

Every morning, you’d vomit for an hour or so, chug a ginger ale, and throw that up too before falling asleep on the toilet seat, after which he’d gingerly pick you up and carry you back to bed. That morning was no different, so he felt awful leaving you at home. He left you with a note saying ‘Be back later, Salt and Vinegar or BBQ? Let me know, love you,’ and a bottle of water with a Motrin. 

You had been sick for almost two weeks straight, and he knew you knew why. You just didn’t want to admit it. Neither did he at first; he had a plan. This went against the plan you had agreed to a few weeks ago, but plans change. And for once that didn’t bother him. He was happy the plans had shifted, elated even. He didn’t know how to contain it, spending most days looking up which cribs were safest and which prenatal vitamins he should grab for you. He fully immersed himself in being a dad, before he even knew if he had someone to be a dad for.

When he stopped at the store to get you salt and vinegar and barbecue chips (you requested family sized bags of both), he wandered over to the family planning section. He decided it was finally time. Today was going to be the day. He’d officially be a dad-to-be, and on Father’s day of all days. It felt right. The universe was finally on his side. It was sunny, birds were chirping. Everything felt perfect.

He grabbed a box of clearblue and checked out, the cashier smiling and commenting, “I hope good luck is what I should say.”

He smiled ear to ear, “Yes, I appreciate that, thank you.”

The tests felt like they were burning a hole through the paper bag the whole walk home. A few times he considered not even giving them to you. He was scared for how you’d react. He was happy, but would you be? Would you cry? Would your tears be happy or sad? Part of him didn’t want to find out, but a bigger part of him needed to find out. 

When he got home, you practically ran to greet him. 

“Chips! Chips!” 

You kissed his cheeks and face, and he squeezed you tightly, but not too tightly. Just in case.  

“Yes, I got the biggest bags that they sell.”

“You know I love you? So much?”

“I know. I love you too, so much,” He blushed and watched you dig in the shopping bag, where you found the box of tests. 

“Spencer—“

“We need to talk.”

He cut you off, trying to profile the look on your face. It was half shock, but he swore he saw you bite back a smile. 

“I know,” you said, opening the box, “And I think we both know what this is going to say.”

“I have an idea of what it’ll say. Is that okay?”

“Is it okay?” You said, standing in front of him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, “Yes. It’s scary, but it’s wanted.”

He placed his hands on your belly. There was nothing there yet, but he still couldn’t contain the smile, “Really?”

You rolled your eyes, using humor to deflect as usual, “Don’t pretend you haven’t been trying to knock me up for months, Dr. Reid,” now he rolled his, “I’m going to go pee on this.”

He followed you into the bathroom, and then proceeded to wait for three minutes. The longest three minutes in the history of time. 

“First time?” You asked him, nestled between his legs on the bathroom floor. 

“Yeah, believe it or not this is the first pregnancy test I’ve ever taken.”

You laughed, shifting even closer to him in an attempt to have him swallow you whole, “Nah, I’ve peed on a ton of sticks.”

“Is that so?” He joked back. You stiffened, and he gripped you tighter. If he could hold you together, maybe you wouldn’t fall apart.

“No,” your voice was low and weak, “and I’m scared. I don’t know why. I’m happy, but terrified, does that even make sense?” 

He kissed the back of your head, “I’ve got you.”

The rest of the time was silent, just appreciating the warmth the other offered. You made him go look at it, not trusting yourself to be able to stand in that moment. 

“It’s positive,” He said, trying to conceal his excitement.

“Really?” Your face lit up and he lit up too, sweeping you off your feet into a hug he wished would have lasted for a hundred years. 

“Yeah, Love, really. You’re going to be a mom!”

Happy tears breached both of your eyes, “And you’re going to be a dad!”

He groaned at the memory, wishing that slice of pure bliss would have lasted. He felt so much happiness in that moment, maybe too much. Maybe we’re all given an allotted amount of happiness at birth. Maybe he only had so much happiness in his body, and he used all his happiness up with you. That would make sense, because he hadn’t found a speck of genuine happiness in his life without you. 

“When you told me it was positive, that was simultaneously the happiest and most terrifying moment of my entire life. I was elated. Over the moon. Ecstatic. Because I always wanted a baby and I always wanted a baby with you. But I was scared. I was scared because pregnancy is scary and birth is supposed to feel like breaking all your bones at once or something. I was scared because I didn’t know if I had the money to get the best crib and best everything for our baby. I was scared because our baby would have two parents with dangerous jobs that we might not come home from. It’s the sad truth of our lives Spencer. We’ve stared down the barrels of many guns, been taken and tortured, looked evil in its eyes. I was scared because instead of living in that moment of pure happiness and love, I was looking ahead, as if anything in this life is guaranteed. 

I ignored my fears, like I ignore everything I really should be looking in the eyes, and let us be happy. All I ever wanted was for us to be happy. And that was the start of when we were the happiest. 

Everyday was full of baby name lists and Mozart and nutritionally balanced meals you made for me. You fed me a lot of sweet potatoes, because “Sweet potatoes are high in vitamin A, Y/N, and you need to increase your vitamin A intake by about 20% during pregnancy.” The only problem was I hate sweet potatoes, and all I really wanted to eat was loaded nachos and cheese fries. 

Being pregnant with the smartest man in the world had its pluses and minuses. On the plus side, you knew everything about everything. If I ever felt a funny movement or a weird symptom, you knew what was going on. Because of JJ (another thing I chose to ignore). But that was also a minus, because I’d tell you my tummy hurt and suddenly you’d overreact and make me call my doctor. I’d laugh and tell you it was all okay, I didn’t have any rare conditions that have only ever affected 3 people in the history of the world. I was okay. Me and her, we were okay.”

Spencer stopped. Her? You actually used ‘her?’ You never did that. After everything happened you referred to her as ‘the baby’ because it made it less personal. If you called her ‘her’ or by the name you’d chosen, that made it real. Neither of you wanted it to be real. 

You had cried over this page heavily, the words marked by inky tear stains. He was following suit, staring at that word. 

Her. A girl. His daughter. His girl. 

“You’d give me weekly updates on how big the baby was and what was growing and changing. And trust me, I felt growing and changing. And to me, it felt like sore boobs and vomiting. Pregnancy did not make me glow, it made me dull and gray and cranky and somehow still so happy. I was happy because of you. 

You listened to me compare the pros and cons of virtually identical bassinets while you rubbed my feet. You laid your head on my belly, even before there was a bump and listened or talked to her about your day. You always got me potato chips. You removed every vanilla candle in our house when the smell made me want to hurl. You were understanding when I’d snap at the littlest things or cry at a sad commercial. You made every stomach ache and hip ache feel better, even if you did fact dump about it every four seconds. I got so caught up in being a mom-to-be that I often forgot you were a dad-to-be, too. I’m sorry for that. I should've supported you the way you supported me, through everything. For that, I'm truly sorry. 

Remember when everyone found out? We decided to wait to tell them, at least into week twelve, just in case something happened. 

“If a miscarriage were to happen, it would most likely occur in the first trimester;” you explained one day, while I had my grubby little hands in a plate of loaded sweet potato fries (a compromise). 

“My mom always said it's bad luck,” I said, “But I’m happy to keep this between us. I wish we could live in this bubble of happiness forever, Spencer.”

I still wish we could’ve lived in that bubble forever, but it popped. 

We still went to work like usual. They all knew something was up. I was opting out of takedowns and always eating. Like, always. Derek knew not to go to the vending machine without getting something for me. I sized up in Kevlar and Rossi did mention that I was looking ‘glowy’ a few times. No one asked us though, which is a surprise given the people we work with. They knew we loved each other before we even did, so I’m sure they knew I had one in the oven. 

We told them by getting a onesie that said “FUTURE FBI AGENT” on it. Super cheesy, but perfect for us. We showed up to a carbonara ala Rossi dinner with it stashed in my purse.

“No wine?” Rossi asked me and I shook my head no, “Okay Bella, okay.”

He sent me a knowing look with a grin. Classic Rossi, always the dad. 

After dessert, we stood up, clinking a class and you held me close.

“Attention, everyone!”

The whole crew stared at us, and you gave them the line you had rehearsed in the car on the way over, “The BAU is my family, and I love you all so dearly. which is why Y/N and I would like to tell you that we have a new recruit coming in February!” 

We each took one sleeve of this adorably tiny onesie and held it up, everyone cheering and clapping and congratulating us.

The boys patted you on the back, Penelope tackled me in a hug, Blake kissed your cheeks. Even JJ had a genuine smile for us. It was perfect. Literally perfect. That may be the best moment of my life. It was me and you, sharing the most important part of our lives with the people most important to us. My heart aches just thinking about them. God, they were so excited. Garcia and Derek bought me gifts. JJ gave me advice. We sent Emily a picture of me and you with that baby onesie, and she texted me everyday to ask how I was feeling. My dad was over the moon, he didn’t even care that we weren’t married. Diana was the happiest of them all. She was so excited for you to have this journey, and she told me she was glad it’d be with me. She once wrote to me that a dream of hers was to be a grandma, and when you were a kid she thought that may never happen, since you were so smart and special and different. She thought no one would ever understand you enough to love you like that. She said that all changed when she met me. She could tell I understood you and loved you. So tell Diana that I’m sorry I couldn’t give her that dream and that I hope she gets her wish of being a grandma one day. I hope you get your wish to be a dad, too. It may kill me to know that you’d be out there parenting without me, but it may kill me more if you never get to have that dream Spencer Reid. So do it. Break my heart a million times over. It’s worth it as long as you’d be happy at the end of it all.”

He sighed shakily, he’d only be happy at the end of it all if it was with you, an option that seemed less and less likely with each passing letter. 

The box contained that little onesie. He held it up, astonished at how small it was. How could a person ever be so tiny? He let himself cry into it, the onesie still smelling like you. He remembered ordering it online, sneaking it in your purse and the look on everyone’s faces when he gave his little speech. He remembered JJ squeezing him tight and telling him he’d be amazing and how happy she was that Henry and Jack would have a new friend. He remembered Derek slapping him on the back and commenting how pretty the baby would be, “You and Y/N? We may have a new pretty boy in the house soon!”

He remembered Rossi immediately finding a copy of ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ on a shelf in his massive mansion, and giving it to him with a kiss on both cheeks. He remembered sneaking to Vegas to tell his mother, how she leapt up and swallowed him in a hug. But perhaps the most memorable and meaningful interaction he had that night was with Hotch. 

He came up to Spencer separately, at the end, and gave him his own fatherly wisdom, “Congratulations, Reid. This is going to be the greatest adventure of your life, and you’re going to be an amazing father.”

Spencer smiled, looking over at you, hands all over your barely there belly, giggling with Garcia and Derek, “Because of her.”

“What?”

Spencer cleared his throat, “I’m going to be a great father, because she makes me a great man.”

Hotch smiled and brought Spencer into a hug, two rare occurrences, “I felt the same way about Haley.”

Spencer felt Hotch stiffen, and he waited for him to finish, “My only advice to you is to not be me. If she makes your world spin a little faster, if she makes life a little better, if she makes the job easier, then don’t wait. I waited too much with Haley. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Spencer smiled, knowing then what he needed to do. You did make his world spin faster. You made the world a better place. 

“I won’t, Hotch,” He cleared his throat, “I promised her that much.” 

But there he was now, making all the same mistakes Hotch had. He had waited. He said he wouldn’t but he still did. He poured himself into work instead of love, just like Hotch, and it led him to his rock-bottom. He was staring at a baby onesie that should’ve held his baby, except he had no baby, and he had no you. 

He toyed with the snaps on the bottom, undoing them and redoing them in an attempt to relieve stress. He could imagine what she would’ve looked like. He thought she’d be chubby, like a little michelin man with rolls on her knees and elbows. He thought her hair would be brown and curly, like his, and her eyes would hold the universe in them like yours did. He thought that he’d love her tenfold the amount he loved you, which was a lot. He wondered if when he saw her face his heart would be too full and give out then and there. 

“My favorite memory of being pregnant is that day we went to Meridian Hill Park, remember? You fixed up a picnic basket full of nutritious foods, sneaking a bag of saltines just in case I felt sick. That was one of the last days, if I remember right. It was week eighteen. I looked like I had a basketball shoved under my dress. The doctor’s said I was measuring large; the baby would probably be nine pounds. We knew she was a girl. We didn’t have some big gender reveal, we just had the doctor tell us at the ultrasound. 

You set the blanket down, helping me sit and get situated. It was mid-October, so the leaves were bright yellow and orange. You had on a cozy sweater and brought a blanket to drape over my legs. I remember eating a few apple slices and leaning on you, just admiring the world. I looked over at you and smiled. Your hair was shorter and you were sitting cross-legged, slouching and eating a sandwich.

“You know what would be a cute name for her?” You said, shifting to allow me to lay my head on your lap.

“Hm?”

“Annabelle.”

“Like from the Poe story?”

“Technically, it’s a poem, but yes.”

“Doesn’t she die in it?”

You shrugged, “Yes, but it has such beautiful lines. ‘We loved with a love that’s more than love, I and my Annabell Lee.”

Your hand met my rather large bump, and upon hearing you whisper “Annabell Lee” the baby kicked, right into your hand. 

You looked down at me, smiling, “See she likes it! Don’t you Annabelle?”

I rolled my eyes, “Must everything be macabre with you Reid?”

You gave me pleading eyes, “Even without the poem, it’s still a beautiful name. It’s of English origin and means gracious or beautiful.”

“Annabelle Diana Reid,” I said, trying it on for size. 

You scrunched up your eyebrows and nose, “Diana?”

I shrugged, “I thought it’d be nice, and that makes for a really pretty name.”

You grinned, “I love it, and I love you, and I love Annabelle. I promise I will love you both for the rest of my life.”

I like to think you’ve kept that promise. 

You kissed me gently, the sun washing over us and a few stray leaves falling, just you, me, and Anna. 

I don’t believe in jinxes or superstitions. I believe in science and facts. But some part of me can’t shake the feeling that if we picked a different name things would’ve been different. Maybe if she was an Ava or an Olivia we wouldn’t be here. But she was Annabelle. Our Annabelle. 

I got rid of every other speck of baby stuff from this place. When you were off on cases and I was at home, I filled a bag with the few things we had gotten and dropped them off at the Salvation Army. I couldn’t bear parting with this onesie though, in fact I’m having a hard time even giving it to you. But she was yours too. My favorite part of the poem is this: 

‘And neither the angels in Heaven above, nor the demons down under the sea, can ever dissever my soul from the soul, of the beautiful Annabel Lee’”

Spencer crumpled the letter up. He was done reading this. He had to stop, his breath and heart rate were skyrocketing. He felt he’d been chewed up and spit out. He wanted to scream or punch a wall. His sadness forming into an angry monster that he couldn’t contain. He threw the crumpled letter across the room with a yell.

When he realized what he had done, he quickly tried to flatten the paper out, “No, no, no no! Please” 

Hot tears were streaming down his face uncontrollably making his vision bleary and the letter even harder to read. He needed you. You always knew how to calm him down and he needed that now. His mom was right, you did understand him. You were probably the only person alive who ever really, truly, did. 

He grabbed his phone, scrolling to find your contact name. He didn’t press ‘call’. He just stared at the ten numbers, frozen, and allowed himself to sob. 

Part 12!

Taglist!

@l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings (tag isnt working) @ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1 @mellifluouswildbluebells @rottenearly @sammypotato67​ @blushingwueen​ @peaxhyjaes​ @justanotherfangurlz​ @juniorgman187​ @mbowles23-blog​ @blameitonthenight21​ @goldentournesol​ @rainsong01​ @thelifeofadumbbitch​ @swimmingtrashwobblersludge  (not working)

[dregstrash]

Knife in the Back

a/n: Here it is!! The @grishaversebigbang project I did with the wonderful and talented @wafflesandkruge. This was so much fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it!

Materialki: @chaosvvolf (check out this amazing piece), @throughtheruin (feast your eyes on this beauty), @cinnonym (a 10/10 work of art), @corpsecro (we literally love to see talent), @kayadoodles (her mind is galactic with this one), @saintprivateer (brilliance in a single image)

Summary: Inej is one of the best detectives the city has to offer. As she gets closer to taking down one of the largest crime syndicates in Kerch, a body turns up out of nowhere and it points to Kaz Brekker, one of Ketterdam’s most dangerous hitmen, being the killer. But as Inej investigates the murder, there might be more to it than meets the eye: the murder, the suspects, and Kaz Brekker.

Ao3 Link

Prologue and Chapter 1 under the cut!

Prologue:

It was a dark night in Ketterdam. Not that any light truly ever pierced the dark clouds that seemed to perpetually hang over the city, but under the new moon the stars weren’t strong enough to illuminate the dark cobbled street.

The regular late night revelers seemed more subdued than usual. The air chillier and the wind ripping through any brave soul that stumbled through abandoned alleys.

It was almost funny the things that are able to pass in the dark: guns hidden under coats, hands twitching with an unquenchable craving, and bodies that might never truly wake up. The pale arm sticking out of a hastily placed tarp would have passed completely, if it wasn’t for one drunken man stumbling away from his latest high. The fall came before the scream, and the sound of it echoed down the alley.

True night could have hidden most evils, but even the shadows can choose to offer some truths-- and on this dark night the truth was this: a girl half-covered with a blue tarp, her eyes set in an endless stare, and a hole punctured in the place where her heart should have been.

Chapter 1:

Ketterdam was like most metropolitan cities: busy streets, short-tempered people, and high murder rates. Inej had only been with the police department for three years, but she honestly thought she’d seen it all. Her police academy years were spent doing her regular beats in the Barrel, the sinister underbelly of the pleasure districts of Ketterdam called the Staves. She thought that coming face to face with the broken, destitute, and neglected, she had finally figured out all the little secrets of this dark city. But Ketterdam had a way of keeping you on your toes, and today was proof of that.

“It’s not pretty, Inej.” Her partner, Matthias, lifted the police tape cordoning the crime scene from the curious eyes of the general public. He handed her a cup of coffee and she took a grateful sip. They were in an alley in one of the more run-down neighborhoods, the area dark despite the morning sun.

“Tell me.” Inej said.

Matthias sighed and led her to where a corpse that was being covered with a blue tarp. Inej inhaled briefly at the sight of the massive hole punctured in the dead girl’s chest, and just as quick she exhaled. Later, she’ll give herself time to think about how young the girl looked, or the way her eyes were open and unable to be put to rest. Later, she’ll say a little prayer for the currently unnamed girl. But for now, she braced herself to take in the details, to take in the scene, to look at everything like puzzle pieces itching to be made whole.

“Victim was found at about 2 in the morning, by a drunk trying to find his way home. He tripped over the arm and let out a scream. Neighbors from up there.” He pointed up to a fifth story apartment complex, “Called about the noise complaint, and we had officers on the scene fairly quick.”

Inej opened her mouth, but Matthias beat her to it. “We already interviewed the man who discovered the body, and he’s not a person of interest. He was barely sober enough to remember where he lived, much less murder someone. We’ll have to wait until Wylan takes a closer look before, but it looks like the girl’s been dead for more than twenty-four hours.”

She nodded in understanding and took a closer look at the pale corpse. Inej peered under the tarp, and hissed out a breath.

“Shit.” Inej cursed.

Matthias raised an eyebrow, “You know her?”

“She’s one of my informants. A girl I knew from when I was younger. She was helpful in some of my bigger cases, but I hadn’t heard from her in the last six months. I just assumed she finally got out of the city.”

“And you have no idea who she would be working with that could have gotten her killed?”

She shook her head and then started looking at the crime scene itself, “There’s no blood here.” She began to pace the length of the alley. “Not on the ground or on her clothes. So we can rule out robbery gone wrong. We need to find out where she was killed”

Matthias followed closely behind her, she could feel him thinking. People always accused Matthias of being a stoic brick wall, and while Inej might agree, she almost relied on that solid silence. After being her partner for almost two years, she knew that he would only speak up if all the facts aligned and made sense. He wouldn’t waste words on any conspiracy.

“This would have to be multiple assailants.” Matthias said contemplatively. “Or one highly organized individual. We haven’t seen anything like this for a while.”

Inej swept her eyes on the crime scene and she sighed, “And we have no word on any sort of wallet or phone?”

“Hasn’t been seen, but we’re going to try to get some facial recognition off the CCTV to try and identify her.”

Inej nodded and turned over the minimal amount of detail surrounding the crime scene. There was something achingly familiar about the set up. Dead body. Simple covering. Dumping ground. For all intents and purposes, it was minimalistic and clean-- sort of like the case form three years ago-- the one with--.

Inej’s eyes widened as a realization dawned on her.

She scanned the alley more closely taking in the position of the victim, the loosely tied tarp, the time of discovery, and its location. She remembered the details of another case she had spent hours and hours pouring over. She remembered the frustrating all-nighters, and barged in at Wylan’s office at any given moment demanding he review the evidence that was submitted. It was a case that had joined the thick folder in Inej’s desk titled “Cold Case.” And while most detectives had their own grief about their stack of unsolved murders, Inej’s problem wasn’t never finding the killer, her problem was that the son of a bitch was a snake that always slithered just out of her reach.

“Okay, Matthias let’s wrap up and send the body to--”

Inej’s voice cut short as she caught sight of a chillingly familiar object unceremoniously dumped in a heap of garbage three feet away from the corpse.

She took out a rubber glove from her pocket, and approached the pile of trash with careful precision.

“What is it?” Matthias asked.

She didn’t answer. She stepped over some rotten fruit, and reached for the lone black glove that was too clean to have been thrown away, and too nice to be a forgotten clothing item.

Inej held the glove up, “See anything, detective?”

He gave her a skeptical look, but obliged by leaning in and studying the simple black glove. 

“It’s been worn a lot, but it’s not dirty. The leather is high quality, and still in good shape.”

“So why would anyone throw this away when winter is coming? Or better yet, why has no one taken it yet?”

Matthias shrugged, while Inej’s gears turned and turned. There was no way he would have been so careless. He’s never made a slip up like this before. But then again, maybe this was a message. Maybe he was finally tired of the shadows, and wanted Inej to find his glove as some sort of taunt-- or challenge. 

And he knew she would take him on it.

“Take the body to Wylan, and get the autopsy report as soon as possible. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Inej, what--”

“Also, there’s a marked folder in my desk. Grab it, and we’ll brief when I get back.”

“Where are you going?’

“I need to talk to someone.” She said distractedly.

She grabbed an evidence bag from one of the forensic agents, and stuffed the glove inside. She handed it back to the agent. “Get that tested, immediately.”

“Don’t do anything stupid without backup, Ghafa!” Matthias called after her.

She waved a hand behind her, but she was past being cautious. She folded herself back into the car and started inputting a familiar address into the GPS. If she was right about the glove, then she wasn’t letting Brekker get away from her. Not this time. She didn’t care if he was one of the deadliest assassins Ketterdam had ever seen. All men had to face justice someday, and it looked like Brekker’s time was drawing near.