#ive only had a hot pocket twice in my life

[chuuyascumsock]

Hot Cocket || Minors DNI

I just realized I never posted my Dazai fucking a hot pocket fic on here. If the Ao3 babes had to suffer, y’all do too LMAO.

Summary: Ah, yes, welcome to the bullshit that I call “art”. Today’s episode: Dazai fucks a Hot Pocket. Don’t ask me what gave me this idea, my friend came up with it so thank him for this utter monstrosity. I suppose I’ll take the smallest bit of credit for wanting to write a crackfic of Dazai sticking his dick in something he shouldn’t— because it’s called having a sense of humor.

Tags: Dazai Osamu/Hot Pocket, I talk about how dazai would definitely be a ham and cheese hot pocket kind of a guy, I make kind of weird metaphorical jokes, If Asagiri gets to blow children up then I can throw them into traffic, descriptions of fucking a hot pocket, descriptions of burning the dick (because he’s fucking a HOT pocket), um… creampie in a hot pocket..?, oh— and then Fyodor eats the hot cum pocket lol.

Dazai had been feeling particularly lonely on a Saturday night.

Without any women around to woo with his unhinged rizz, Dazai sought after a cheap comfort food he often turned to in his crippling depressive times. The freezer flings open with a creak to reveal the godly image of a box of hot pockets. As expected— nothing else resided in the freezer other than said hot pockets because Dazai was as broke as a medical college student in debt.

Dazai reaches a bandaged hand inside before grasping the box and pulling it close to his chest. He could already feel saliva pooling in his mouth as he re-lived his previous encounters and tastes of his hot pockets. But this one was different. This one was pepperoni. Normally, Dazai was a ham and cheese kind of guy, but they had been barren of any ham and cheese hot pockets. It made him sad to think about, but it also brought rejoice as he could finally try another flavor of hot pocket.

Dazai is quick to tear the box’s top off and reach a hand inside to grab the frozen snack pocket out. Even in a plastic wrapping, he could still smell the permeating waft of garlic and herbs. He fumbled around the kitchen as he ripped the plastic off and put the snack into the small cardboard pocket, basically throwing the hot pocket into the microwave like you would throw a small child into oncoming traffic.

Not really giving a fuck, Dazai punches the microwave which some how starts a two minute timer and the hot pocket starts spinning in small, grueling long circles. His eyes stare into the microwave’s glass window, taking in the way the hot pocket slowly warms up.

Deep down, Dazai wished to be a hot pocket. Because he, too, wished to be cooked in a microwave. What a way to go out.

It feels like eternity until the microwave beeps loudly to signify that the slutty— I mean tasty treat is done cooking. His eyes light up and Dazai takes the hot pocket out of the microwave. “It’s… It’s beautiful…” He whispers tearfully as the hot pocket steams from the packet. Realizing how hot it was the next few seconds after, he tosses it between his hands and onto the counter gently, “Ow— hot, hot— ahhhh.”

Staring at the hot pocket, Dazai begins to drool excessively— oh, and he was hard. Dude got a raging boner from looking at this hot pocket too long. Just like me fr.

“Aw man, now I’m super horny…” He whines as he looks down at his tightened slacks. He thinks for a moment before he looks back to the hot pocket and gets an idea.

The hot pocket steamed in need of his ACHING COCK (I can see you cringing behind that screen, Guac <3). Or at least that’s how Dazai took it because of how horny he was. “You want me, don’t you?” He grins at the hot pocket with desire— only getting a soft puff of steam in return and a whiff of garlic that made him twice as hard.

Eager to get off now, Dazai unzips his slacks and pushes them down enough to have access to the hot pocket. His accurate sized dick of three inches— I mean— his monster cock slapped against his stomach as he wasn’t wearing underwear because it’s canon that he goes commando. Dazai then took the hot pocket and brought it to his lips before taking a slow bite. And in typical Dazai fashion— he moaned loud enough for the entire apartment complex to hear and got several noise complaints which all went to Kunikida’s answering machine.

“My god, you’re such a slutty tease,” Dazai groans, swallowing the cold ass bite that’s always at the end of the hot pocket. Pushing at the sides with his fingers, the hot pocket opens to reveal its gooey melted cheese and sloppy pizza sauce insides with the occasional chunks of pepperoni. Dazai stroked his cock until he had spread enough precum along his length, though it’s questionable as to why he would as he’s fucking a hot pocket pussy and not actual pussy because he gets none.

Wasting no more time, Dazai slid his dick into the scalding hot pocket and screamed from the pain of literal lava burning the skin of his dick. But he kept trekking through the feeling, because he’ll be damned having his dick blistered by some hot pizza sauce and melting mozzarella chunks ruin him from being horny enough to fuck a microwaveable snack. “Yeah, you like that you dirty, saucy whore?” He grunted, uncaring of the melted cheese and pizza sauce sticking to his now blistering cock.

As this poor hot pocket was being violated like no one’s business, Kunikida was sobbing himself to sleep after getting multiple detailed complaints about how loud Dazai was being while he was aggressively fucking a hot pocket like I did to your mom last night.

“I’m gonna turn you into a toaster strudel, baby,” Dazai moaned loudly, thrusting harder into the hot pocket before filling it to the brim with his cum. “That’s it, take my seed you cheesy whore…” He panted, pulling his dick out of the cum stuffed hot pocket. It took a few moments until he realized the damage that the hot pocket had done to his dick as he looked down to see the various red burn spots and blistering skin covered in pizza sauce, cheese, and pepperoni. “Now I’m going to need bandages for my dick…” He sighed, tossing the hot pocket aside like they didn’t have a special bond. “Well, I’m not hungry anymore, my dick hurts… Time to stick it in some ice cream~” Dazai trailed off to get Kunikida’s credit card to go buy and defile yet another item of food.

As the hot pocket sat on the ground oozing with cum, a rat squeaked and scampered by before sniffing the hot pocket. Deemed worthy enough to take it back to its master, the rat dragged the hot pocket into a mouse hole and scrambled through the walls of the apartments until it made its way outside and into a manhole. Making its way through the sewers, the rat finally arrives at its master.

“What is this?” A Russian accent echoes through the sewers. Slender hands pick up the rat and the hot pocket, Fyodor looking at both with a questionable gaze. The rat squeaks to communicate with the Russian joker and squirms out of his grasp to scatter off to its family.

“A toaster strudel, you say? I’ve never seen such a thing, incredible…” Fyodor doesn’t even bother to take a good look at the hot pocket to see the fluids dripping out of it before he takes a large bite and chews. His face scrunches up— but he keeps eating because man is anemic and refuses to eat anymore of his belly button lint to survive.

“What a strange tasting toaster strudel…”

[fifteenth-entity]

Following the great example you set, I will also be sending a variety of books (and a play).

The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

Ulysses, James Joyce

Maurice, E. M. Foster

Orlando, Virginia Woolf

Macbeth, William Shakespeare

listen, i want to answer this ask so bad but it has deleted itself twice now. THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM.

this is gonna be VERY awkward because i know... approximately 2 books from this list? buut i’m willing to put my research in like a good samaritan.

1. The Picture of Dorian Gray

never heard of | never read | want to read | terrible | boring | okay | good | great | a favorite

I AM SO EXCITED TO READ THIS BOOK, YOU HAVE NO IDEA. this book has been on my tbr for a hot minute but like... i can never justify the purchase to myself? like, every time i go to the bookstore with the goal of buying frankenstein, dr jekyll and mr hyde, and the picture of dorian gray, but every single time, a ya novel catches my eye and i dive for it like a raven spotting a shiny on a woman adorned with accessories. i cannot possibly hovel up to the cash register holding to kill a kingdom, lunar chronicles part 2, and the picture of dorian gray. like i dont want to do that to mr. wilde OR mr. gray. will the cashier judge me? most likely not! but you know who will? I will judge myself. but i swear on everything, i WILL read this book some day, I’ll actually have it in my hands with the receipt probably tossed in my pocket, i swear it.

2. Ulysses

never heard of | never read | want to read | terrible | boring | okay | good | great | a favorite

the “what book is this” saga begins here. I don’t... understand?? what this is about?? but like... more than a little intrigued. imma need you or ana to put me on this book, but i read “celtic culture” and alarm bells went off. to say i’m enticed i think is fair.

3. Maurice

never heard of | never read | want to read | terrible | boring | okay | good | great | a favorite

Let me take you on the same rollercoaster I was put on when i looked up this book. “this has to be like... i dont know, some sort of depraved victorian romance. is maurice even a girl’s name? im too afraid to ask. OH. OH IT’S GAY. OH MY GOD THIS IS GAY.” SORRY ULYSSES, THIS ONE TAKES PRIORITY. and it’s short too?? i need this in my hands like, yesterday.

4. Orlando

never heard of | never read | want to read | terrible | boring | okay | good | great | a favorite

hm! hm hm hm. ive read tons about this book, and i do want to read some eventual woolfe in my life time. i dont have many thoughts on this? i wanna know more about it first.

5. Macbeth

never heard of | never read | want to read | terrible | boring | okay | good | great | a favorite

OHKAY. This is some serious cheating im about to do, BUT this book deserves a story time. so i was in my sweet 16s when i went to watch the macbeth play in like... the one big theater in greece, right? and my only previous experience with shakespeare was reading a midsummer night’s dream for school, playing the part of a nursemaid to juliet for romeo and juliet, and just freshly having watched hamlet with a less than stellar experience. (like all i know is that hamlet is gay, killed some guy, and argues with the spirit of his dad. he drank a pina colada on a beach chair at his dad’s funeral tho? kinda mood of him) so when i went to watch macbeth, my expectations were in hell. so zouboulia from para pente appears on stage, and immediately, i know im gonna have the time of my life. and despite the fact that this government protected PEDOPHILE was on stage playing the coward macbeth himself, I HAD A BLAST. my mom was sitting next to her 16 year old son, who was enjoying these two peoples’ dive into turmoil and the depicted bloodshed caused by it a little too much. Lady macbeth can step on me, i’ll be her carpet. i don’t care about any other shakespeare book (ok that’s a lie titus andronicus i apologize) other than macbeth. i REALLY want to read this. did i have a blast? yeah. will i have a blast again? yeah.

[xgryffinwhore]

september nights

request:  i was wondering if you could write another soft bill smut? i don’t really have a specific plot in mind, we’re just really lacking content on tumblr rn :( in some really precarious place where they don’t want to get caught

warnings: soft smut, like i mean very soft.

word count: 2118

before your lips met bill denbrough’s, love was always, to say the least, a conundrum. lets be real for second, boys wasted your time, and you let them. only the cute ones of course. you are a hopeless romantic, drunk off of molly ringwald and john travolta films. you wanted any relationship you had to be just like the movies.

through your heart breaks, your best friends stood by you, your losers. eddie, richie, bev, stan, ben, and bill. for each tear you shed a punch was thrown to the man who caused it, they were protective over you. bill the most though, he always got so defensive when you were in the mix. all throughout middle & high school, bill has had to deal with every guy who even dares to think about breaking your heart.

“its not fair bill” you wailed into your pillow. he stroked your back and hushed you, his eyes welling with tears. “im never fucking good enough for any guy and its so fucking sad!” your complaints being cut off mid sentence by a choked out cry. “y-y/n. all of y-your boyfriend are i-idiots. anyone w-who would d-d-do this to you isnt w-worth your t-time. anyone w-would be the luckiest in the w-world to have y-you in their life” you picked your head up and looked at him with swollen lips and blood shot eyes “there no one out there for me bill, no one.” 

he bit his lip, fighting back any tears dripping from his eyes “they j-just dont see how p-pretty you are. how g-gentle and caring and s-s-sweet, and h-how your face c-can light up any room. theyre f-fucking idiots, and you d-deserve m-more.” you clearly thought he was being nice, because you could take a MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAMN hint, so you replied “i wish there was someone out there like you, for me, that thinks of me the way you do.” 

he furrowed his brows, tossing his head back and running his fingers furiously through his hair. “d-dammit y/n!” he cursed “cant you s-see what ive b-been trying to say? w-w-what ive been t-trying to say f-for the last f-five years!?!” your expression was bewildered, your brain was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what he meant. his frustration got the best of him, he got up and stormed out the door,  feeling embarrassed and stupid for trying to make you understand how he felt.

he was half way out your front door, fuming for his keys lodged deep into his front pocket; when suddenly:

“bill!”

his head turned at the call of his name, “y-y/n please i d-”

smack.

your lips locked with his, he rain pouring heavily outside. bills lips stilled at the contact, but this lasted briefly, he deepened this kiss by pulling you in to his abdomen by your mid back. your bunched the front of his base ball t shirt with your fists, and he did the same but with your hair.

the rest is basically history.

now six months later, and you couldnt have been happier. bill knew how to treat you, nights out twice a week (you always wanted to pay but bill insisted,) holding your hand to and from classes, he let you borrow have his varsity baseball jacket, which smelt just like him and was a little too big for you. 

when he would drop you off and your classes, he would always grab your hand and transfer a tiny piece of paper into your palm. when you got into class to unfold it, it was always a cute little message about his love for you. 

bill had it bad for you, everyone knew that, and you loved every minute of it. he met every and any standard you had, and exceeded your expectations. 

it was september, still warm enough in derry to wear shorts, so you and your friends thought of a last hurrah for the ending of the summery weather.

“camp out, its nearly perfect” Richie exclaimed. eddie rolled his eyes “like youve ever been near anything perfect toizer, do you even know what perfect means?” richie shoved eddie “yeah eddie i actually have. have you seen amanda’s tits?”

 you tuned out richie and eddies bickering as you’re boyfriend cleared his throat. “you g-gonna go?” he said into your ear, “only if you promise to wear bug spray bill, you know how bad-” he cut you off with a kiss, his mouth forming a small smile at how cute you were. “get a room, honestly” stan poked, pda wasn’t his favorite... “at least i h-have something to k-kiss aye s-stannie”

you arrived at the edge of the forest, parking your car at the last parking ish space. you walked toward the sounds of ben and richie fighting, and came to see that richie really went all out. three tents, sticks for a fire, and more snacks than anyone needed. 

you all spent the remanence of the daylight dancing in the light sky, sharing stories, and eating waaaay too many chips. it was dark now, you all huddled in a circle near the fire; making small talk and trying not to admit you were all very tired.

“ok folks, im off to bed” richie yawned “me stan eddie n’ mike will take the green tent, bev and ben in the red.” richie paused and smirked over at you and bill, you were tangled in his limbs, golfed in his navy blue pull over. “and uh- heh- billy boy and y/n in the yellow tent eh?” you could practically feel bills eye roll, god richie was so immature.

“w-we dont have to s-sleep in the s-s-same tent, i c-can ask ben if he’d s-switch” you look up at bill and reassure him “bill no- its not a big deal, right?” he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your temple “c-course not.”

you both went into the tent, bill began to unroll the blankets you both had packed tightly into your bags. You both set up your makeshift bed, bill leaned against a pile of pillows while you hugged his side, your face buried in his neck. his smell was absolutely intoxicating; his skin had remanence of his milk and honey body wash, but it was slightly overpowered by wintergreen, clove, and his bourbon cologne. 

you were like this for around an hour, the orange crank-powered lantern being the only source of light. you switch positions though, you now laid your head on his lap, reading a magazine you stole from the hair salon. he watched your eyes scan every letter, when you read something funny you’d huff to yourself, and when something was intresting you stuck your tongue out from between your teeth. he adored you.

“d-dont stay up t-too late” he stroked your hair off your shoulder “we have t-to have you w-well r-r-rested.” you sat up from beside him, as he adjusted the pillows and took off his pull over, then his pants. he got under the covers and waited for you.

“nice donut boxers” you laughed. “s-shut up” he blushed and regreted not changing them when he had the chance. you turned around took off your shirt, you were shy about how you looked, but it was just bill. it was just bill. you heard his breath hitch, his eagerness radiating off his body onto yours. the air became tense as you unzipped your pants and threw them to the corner. you turned around, bills pupils growing until you were completely facing him.

“yeah i know. mine are boring” you laugh nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear and getting under the covers next to him. he didnt respond, he couldnt take his eyes off of you.you began to sit up again “i can go put back on-” “n-no!” he interrupts, his blush taking up his entire face.

“i j-j-just cant b-believe i g-get to see something s-so special” he gulped “s-so b-b-b-beautiful.”

you grabbed him by his shoulders and kissed him, hard. youve been with boys before, i mean youve dated plenty of people. but no one ever called your body special. hot, yeah. nice, yeah. beautiful, sure. but no one ever thought that it was special. 

bill was a kind boy, the most you two have ever done is get each other off with your hands, always clothed. bill never asked to see more, he felt lucky enough just to make you feel good, and that was enough for him. so when you felt the heat of his hands hovering over your body but not touching it, you new you’d have to call the shots tonight.

“bill,” you laid down “just touch me everywhere, please.” he crawled in between your legs, kneeling so that he could lean over your face “m-my pleasure.”

he traced your collar, leaving small, delicate, kisses to make up for what his fingers left behind as they trailed. he kissed the valley between your breasts, licking slow striped down your skin. he picked up your upper back a little and cocked his head to the side, you nodded and he unclipped your bra. he sat their with his mouth open, taking in the view. you blushed and muttered “hey, keep that mouth to good use.” he dipped down and sucked on your nipples, his mouth felt so good against your skin grazed with goosebumps. he was gingerly with his tongue, it was sexy, it was romantic. he kissed down your stomach, his fingers sweeping down your sides. you could see his member pressing against his boxers, the pressure made him wince every once in a while. his fingers met your panties and he hooked them. again, he looked up for permission, you nodded once again. 

he brought your underwear down your legs and off, looking back to see what he had relieved. he licked his lips, getting ready to please you more than he already did. but you felt bad, bill always gave gave and gave. “its ok, im ready right now.” bill looked up at you in shock, he wasnt expecting you’d want to go all the way. “y/n, y-youre sure?” you lean up and kiss his lips, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip “please.”

he pulled down his boxers eagerly, his member sprung out to hit his stomach. he lined up with you, checking once more that it was ok. then he pushed in, bottoming out. he felt bigger than you thought, of course he was well endowed, but he filled you up so well. you mewled, the pain and pleasure making a delicious feeling that made your toes curl.

he waited, but began slowly moving after a bit. he grunted, feeling you wrapped around him was something he’d never be able to get out of his head he thought to himself. he grunted “f-fuck this feels g-good’ he grunted, his breath becoming heavy and full of lust. with every stroke, you felt yourself get more and more lost in the bliss he made you feel. “youre making me feel so good  bill” you moan, the sound of his name coming out of your mouth driving him absolutely crazy. he speeds up, loving the view of your face contorting in pleasure and your body moving with his. 

he couldnt help but feel admiration to you, your hair formed a halo around your head, and the sweat that coated your skin made you glisten in the orange light. “im t-the luckiest in the world” he husks, holding your cheek. 

you felt the knot in your core coming undone, “bill im close” you strain, trying not to be too loud so you dont wake your friends. he moved your leg up to his shoulder, hitting you from a different, deeper angle. his fingers went to your clit, making you bite your had to stop you from screaming. “you l-look so p-pretty y/n, t-taking me s-so well. making y-you feel so good.” “so good bill” you repeat, drunken off his cock and fingers. 

without warning, you came came, your legs spazzing as you moaned “fuck bill” he followed, his hips stuttering, as he cried out into your shoulder. he pulled out and laid next to you, both of you breathing heavily and coming off your highs. 

“y/n” he looked at you “t-that was really j-just wow- thank y-you.” you kissed him, chaste and sweet “that was great yeah?” “it w-was perfect babe. t-thank you f-for t-that. i love you y-y/n.”

“i love you too bill.”

he sat up, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“c-can we p-please do t-that again?”

[random-fandom1]

Lights were blaring, music blasting, sweaty bodies grinding against eachother. A hand touches Peter waist, lips attach themselves to his neck. A man, his name is James? What a strange name. A hot name. A perfect name for such a hot man. Moans escape him. Lips continue to assault his neck, a hand pulls him towards the exit

"Is this okay?"

That voice. If you could fall in love with voices, Peter would be walking down the aisle.

"yes"

-

8 years later

“Olly James Parker! Hurry up, you don't want to be late for your aunts! You know what MJ did last time.” Peter shudders remembering about how MJ purposely put sand in his salad the last time they were late. The quick patter of soft feet can be heard from the landing upstairs and suddenly a small boy dressed in overalls appears at the top of the stairs, a mop of brown curls covering his left eye.

"Where are we going daddy? Are we going to that fancy place Auntie Shuri took us last week? I didn't like that place, the big red things had strange eyes and the plates. They were, they were too big," The boy made huge over the top circles with his arms. Peter had to agree though, the plates were bloody huge, "I like the cafe Auntie MJ takes us too. I like Kath. She's nice. The pink doughnuts are my favourite" Peter listened to his son rant on about how pink doughnuts are his favourite from Cafe Asgard for about 5 minutes before speaking up. 

"There's no need to worry babe, Auntie MJ is picking the place I think. Shuri and MJ had bet on who stole more of the others clothes, turns out it was Shuri and then Shuri, being the competitive bitch she is decided to try and seduce -" Realising he was wandering off appropriate topics for a 7 year old, and that he'd slipped up twice in that story. He looks down to realise he's probably safe as the boy is still going on about how the sprinkles are the right amount of hard. "Go get your shoes on bud"

"Ok" and with that Olly ran down the hall, curls bouncing with every step. 

Peter couldn't help but admire his son. About how he was an exact copy of him, from the hair to the freckles scattered across his body. Olly carried his and his dad's intelligence and needed to figure out how stuff works. He was a total clone. Well, almost. He had his eyes. Those beautiful steel blue eyes, the ones that looked at him with so much passion that night. Peter cried when Olly opened his eyes for the first time, realising that he's going to have to be reminded of the man he fell in love with, the man who left him alone and pregnant in his bed, everyday for the rest of his life. He's going to be reminded of James.

Peter is pulled out of his thoughts by a small hand tugging his jacket. 

"Come on daddy, I hear a horn honking outside. I don't want Aunties MJ & Shuri to be mad at me" Olly says, looking at his father with huge eyes, genuinely scared of angering his impatient aunts. Resisting the urge to coo, He crouches down in front of his son and wraps him in a hug.

"Oh buddy, they'd never be mad at you...me though, that's a different story. So on that note, chop chop, I'm quite fond of my head" Peter stands up from his crouched position, takes Olly's hand and walks out the front door

-

"-and the dinosaur was big and green with spik-" 

"Ok Olls, I think that's enough of that story. Why don't we head inside" Peter said, holding a tight smile on his face. He unbuckled Olly and headed inside, followed closely by MJ and Shuri. MJ instantly headed towards their usual table beside the window while Shuri made her way into the queue where she instantly started talking to a brown haired man. 'Must be a friend from work' Peter thought. He crouched down to Olly’s level, "Why don't you go get a table with Auntie MJ and Auntie Shuri and I will order the food? You want a pink doughnut and a strawberry and banana milkshake, right?" Olly nodded and ran off towards MJ.

Peter took a moment to think about how he got to this very moment, about how he ended up having Olly. He thought back to the morning after. He woke up alone. James just slept with him, got up early in the morning and left without a word. Peter had to show himself out of his house. There was no note, no contact number, no nothing. All there was was a growing fetus and Peter who couldn't get the man with steel blue eyes and godlike voice out of his head. It was clear that he wanted nothing to do with Peter so in return, Peter decided that he didn't need him. That he can raise Olly by himself without another person. It helped that he had a big family and money was never an issue, seeing as his dad owns the biggest tech company in the world and his pops is a captain in the army. Sure he thought about going back to the flat, seeing if James felt the same way about him as he did. He wondered if Bucky would raise Olly with him, if they could be a family. He's shaken from his thoughts by his phone binging in his pocket. 

Pulling it out of his pocket, he sees a message from his pops. 

‘hey pete, do you know how to activate that protocol you used to wake us up with? Monster ear or something? dads fell asleep in his locked lab again. thanks, have a good day petey. love you x’ 

Peter lets out a chuckle when he reads the message. Trust his dad to forget to unlock the lab door. He starts to make his way over to where Shuri is holding their place in the line, typing back a reply to his pops. 

“-and then glenn tried to make me take out her copies, like who does she think i am - oh, Pete there you are. I thought you got lost on your way over. Here meet my boss, Bucky, he knows all about yo - get off your phone it's rude” Shuri says, getting annoyed by his ignorance. 

“Yeah, yeah. My pops is asking about commands again. I swear he never stops” he says, putting his phone into his back pocket and looking at Shuri. Peter was yet to look at the man in front of him, too busy giving Shuri a death glare.

“It's a pleasure to meet you Peter, Shuris told me a lot about you. She tells me almost daily about your latest mix up, I must say you have a lot.”

Peter freezes

Time stops

It's that voice, the voice he fell in love with. That deep and gruff voice with the right amount of softness on the edges. It's like music, the voice of angels.

He slowly turns his head to look at the man in front of him, watches as his eyes widen upon getting a full view of his face, realising washing over him. 

Everything around them become background noise

The only people left in the cosy cafe are them, scrap that actually, the only people in the whole world are them.

They must be zoned out for a while because suddenly Shuris snapping her fingers in between them. Peter's cheeks flush a dark scarlet and he closes his mouth which must have fallen open. 

“Peter, you have no idea how much I - fuck, Ive thought about this moment for so long, and I - god, I dont know what to say” Peters eyes snap back up to meet those eyes, those pools of steel blue. They haven't left his mind for years, haunted him around any corner he tried to turn. 

Thats when he realised, he was in love with him. He loved James, he hasn't seen him for years, met him once before that, but fuck, he loved him. 

“I-uh - I…”

“Daddy, whos this? His eyes look like mine. Isn’t that funny?” Olly comes over and stands next to his father, looking up at, well, his other father. Bucky looks down at Olly, then back up to Peter, then back down to Olly. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, probably trying to figure out who this is, probably piecing it together slowly. Peter gulps and then looks down at Olly.

“Olly, I told you to stay with Auntie MJ. You know what happened last ti -” Peters cut off for what feels like the 50th time today. 

“How old are you kid?” His voice is shaking 

“Don’t answer that”

“Whos your other daddy?”

“Don't answer that either, go back to Aun-”

“Answer me, how old are you kid?”

Olly is slightly hiding behind Shuris leg, not quite sure what to do. 

“You can’t just go around asking people you've slept with and then left alone to clean up the pieces with not even a contact number or note or anything’s kids how old they are, what is wrong with you?!”

Something flashes across Buckys face, regret and hurt, but they quickly go back to rage. Steel blue eyes turning into a stormy grey, like a storm at sea.

“I can if they may be my child!”

“That doesn't make it right!”

“For god's sake, stop being so difficult-”

“I’m being difficult? Do you hear yours-”

“I do funnily enough -”

They’re interrupted by a small voice

“Im almost eight…”

Both they’re heads snap round, looking at the source of the voice. There they see Olly holding up 8 fingers. Tears well up in James’ eyes, the final piece clicking into the jigsaw

“Hes my son..” Its barely above a whisper. Peter lets out a defeated sigh

“Yeah, he's your son” 

Slowly James crouches down to Olly's level. Olly looks him over, analyses him as if he's trying to figure out what's inside this man. It's scary that Bucky has the exact same look on his face. Eyebrows furrowed, steel eyes cloudy. It makes Peter's heart let out small flutters.

“Hey there kiddo, Im, well im your papa.” Olly takes a second to process what's just been said before running into his papas arms. Tears are streaming down his face. Both their faces. Scrap that, tears are running down most of the people in the cafe’s faces. 

“I've always wanted a papa, daddy always used to say that you went on a mission to space and that its taking a while. But he always said you’ll be back.” 

“Did he now?” Bucky looks into his eyes and all is said in that look. 

He was going to do whatever it takes to be a part of this family, to be with the man he loves and their son.

And Peter wouldn't have it any other way.

“Whats a bitch papa?”

Shuri cackles, an old lady gasps and Bucky's eyes widen comically

fuck.

[leon-scott-kennedy]

So Covert, I Hardly Knew Him

Part I | Part II | Part IV

Part III: Growth

Locked in a laboratory bunker a few hundred feet below ground was not an ideal location for Leon to run into Ada, but he should have expected it. She tended to appear at the worst possible time and throw a wrench into his plans. Sometimes a bomb. “What are you doing here?”

Ada lowered her gun and inspected her fingernails as if checking for any chips in the bright red polish. “What? I can’t drop in to see an old friend?”

The thick honey of her voice sent a shiver down Leon’s spine. He tightened his grip. “A stop on your whirlwind Siberian vacation?”

Ada’s smile turned toxic. “Something like that,” she said, her elbow cocked on her hip and gun held limply in midair. As if Leon were no threat to her. She was probably right. But the low groan of the undead should have worried her.

“So, a job then.” Typical. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

“Back door.”

Leon groaned. Of course, there was an easier way in. He lowered his gun, checked his clip, and reloaded while he had a few seconds of respite. He strained to hear anything in the dark, attention never leaving the dangerous woman in front of him, but the low of zombies were still distant, for now. 

Ada took a step forward. Glass crunched. Leon raised the Samurai Edge. She stopped; the corner of her lip quirked at his immediate reaction.

“That’s not yours,” Ada said. She eyed the gun curiously.

“Bit of a mix-up.”

“Hmmm...” Though Ada clearly didn’t believe him if her perfectly manicured raised eyebrow was anything to go by. “I need your help.”

“Doubtful. Try again.”

Ada smiled. “It’s a new strain,” she said, far too relaxed for a person held at gunpoint. “A modification of-”

“- the T-Veronica,” Leon finished. “I know. I did my homework.”

“So you know the virus can lay dormant for years before activation,” Ada said with a casual wave of the hand holding her gun. “And there’s no cure. Yet.”

Leon tensed because no, he hadn’t known that. That was new. That was dangerous. That meant - “anyone could be a carrier,” he said slowly. Then, the implications hit him full force. “They’d never know.”

“Give the boy a prize,” Ada added. 

Leon wanted to wipe that smug smirk off her face. People’s lives were at stake. He knew there was a leak in the White House. That’s why his mission was unofficial - off the record. The only person who knew he was here was Hunnigan and the privately contracted pilot that had dropped him in the Siberian wilderness. He needed proof of American involvement in the bioterrorism weapons being created before he went directly to the President. But this was worse; a sleeper virus. This was deeper than he’d initially thought; premeditated. Years of planning. 

“I need to get a sample to Dr. Chambers,” Leon said. He had never met her, but he knew of her work. 

Dr. Rebecca Chambers was one of the survivors of the Arklay Mountains incident, the one that kicked off everything. And if Chris Redfield trusted her, that was good enough for Leon. She’d dedicated her life to the fight against bioterrorism like them, except she wasn’t throwing herself in front of rampaging BOWs. A choice that had proved hazardous to Leon’s health. 

“See? An alliance would be mutually beneficial.”

Leon snorted. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Ada stepped closer, a seductive smile on her lips. Her heels echoed ominously off the concrete walls. Her hand curled behind Leon’s neck, fingertips teasing the short hairs, and pulled him down to her level. “Not even for old times’ sake?” 

Her breath was hot against Leon’s cheek, her lips a soft glossy pink. She made contact with cool skin, but it wasn’t with his lips. 

A split second before she connected, Leon slipped his finger between their mouths and forced her to kiss his grimy index finger. He smirked. “Ah ah ah,” he tutted. “You didn’t ask.”

Ada’s eyes narrowed as he pulled away, and her hand slipped uselessly from its inviting position. Her intended prey had escaped.

“I’m not that same naive rookie looking for approval. I’m a big boy now. You wanna play? I have my own rules.”

 Ada scoffed. “Well, look who grew a pair.”

Leon turned his back on her and raised the Samurai Edge. Not the most brilliant idea, but he knew she wouldn’t shoot him in the back as long as she still needed him. “We need to get into the generator room. On me.”

“Really?” Ada reloaded her Blacktail and fell into step behind him. The echoing click of her heels was irritating. “And here I thought you didn’t want to help me.”

“I don’t,” Leon agreed. He pressed his side to the wall beside the door. “But it’s better to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t get into anything you shouldn’t.”

Ada’s laugh was short and humourless. “Fine. I’ll let you babysit. I do like the view.” Ada took her position, gun at the ready for anything that came through the door. 

Cold storage had juice. Low power, but that was a good sign. Meant the big nasties were likely still snoozing, which made Leon’s job all that much easier. He pulled the nameplate out of his back pocket and pried the manual override panel off to find a nest of wires and blinking lights.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Leon grumbled.

“Problem?” Ada teased. 

Leon gestured as if to say ‘go ahead’ and stepped back. He took guard, eyes surveying the dark while Ada fiddled. He could do it, sure, but he knew full well she was faster. 

A shadow lumbered into his flashlight beam and out of the pitch-black as he swept the hall. Leon shot the zombie in the head twice. Then the one staggering right behind it. 

“Any second would be great.”

Ada clucked her tongue. “We could always switch back.”

Glass crunched to Leon’s right. He spun in time to catch the zombie that lurched at him, unsheathed his knife, and drove it into the undead bastard’s chest, forcing the zombie back. Then he shot it in the head twice.

“Got it.” The door hissed as it slid open a crack. “What would you do without me?”

Leon grabbed the edge and hauled it open enough for Ada to slip in. He followed quickly and closed the door as far as he could until there was less than an inch of space left to wedge his fingers in to open it again.

The room hummed with low energy. A few lights blinked in the dark. Leon crept further into the room while Ada watched the door. His breath fogged in the air. Cryogenic storage tubes lined the room, six rows of twelve. Most appeared to be unfinished projects in various forms of horrific mutation until Leon found the last row. 

“Jesus Christ,” Leon breathed. Behind him, he heard Ada’s sharp intake of air. Six Tyrants, like the one he’d fought his first day on the force in Racoon City, stood in identical storage tubes waiting for activation. He hadn’t a hope of defeating them himself with the firepower he had.

“Doesn’t this bring back memories,” Ada said, and Leon hated to agree. That many Tyrants would take massive firepower. He should have planned on it. 

“Generator’s right through there,” Leon said and motioned to the door behind the final row of specimens. “Ladies first.” 

“Always the gentleman,” Ada said. Leon rolled his eyes and followed the retreating click of her heels.

<< First | < Prev | Next >

[jemej3m]

hi i love love love your writing! sorry if people have been asking this but ive been looking for a part three of your lawyer!andrew and neil is on trial for killing his father and I wasnt sure if I missed it or if you haven’t continued it. Just wondering thank you ❤️

well GUEsS WHAT MY FRIEND 

its here!!!

(p1 / p2)

*

Andrew didn’t like to drag things out, but the prosecution did. They always did. It was their only joy in life, especially in appeals: tease every possible fraying strand of a case till they were three weeks into the trial and the jury was dead on their feet. 

And yet, here he was, on the second day of his closing. He’d never made it to a second day: once he’d finished a closing in five minutes. 

Neil had grown progressively more antsy over the three weeks, desperate for a resolution. Every time he was scanned into court, Andrew took his favourite key and slipped it into his pocket. Every time he left to be escorted back to his temporary holding cell in Baltimore’s central policing station, he gave it back for safekeeping. Andrew would hold it, the metal still warm to the touch, the teeth of the key worn with how many times Neil would run the tips of his fingers over it. 

Professionalism, Betsy had warned him. 

But damn it all to hell: Andrew was gone. 

“Mr Minyard, if you would continue where we left off last night?” the judge drawled. Andrew could read people better than books: it wasn’t looking good. This was his last chance.

He stood up, shoved down the strange anger that had simmered beneath his skin every time the prosecution slid their pompous gazes over him, and closed his laptop. His briefcase. Put away his notes and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his slacks. 

“Your honour,” he said, with as much grace as his perpetually bored tone allowed. “This case is beyond that of my client. That much we can all agree upon.”

He waited for an answer. 

The judge cocked her head. “Yes, Minyard.” 

“It is a gruesome story of a luckless, loveless marriage, made for the sakes of alliances and blood money. Mary Wesninski paid that price with her life, when her husband took his favourite weapon - a cleaver - to her throat. My client was 17 when that happened. He was a minor. A child.” 

He turned to the jury. “Over and over, I have rebutted the prosecution’s solitary and feeble argument that my client is Nathan Wesninski’s son. The very Nathan Wesninski who earned his name, the Butcher, through bloody campaigns and fearmongering. That Nathaniel Wesninski was destined to follow his father’s path and continue his legacy.” 

“If it weren’t for his mother, perhaps he would have,” Andrew said, rocking back on his heels. “Without intervention, there’s no doubt that Nathaniel Wesninski would have been a carbon copy of his predecessor, and just as bloodthirsty. But that man -” he pointed at Neil. “That man is not Nathaniel Wesninski. Not in the way his father wanted him to be.”

“We’ve seen the pictures of my client’s torso. The bullet wounds and gruesome knifings that he earned whilst clawing desperately to free himself from his father’s iron grasp. Worse still: we’ve seen the proof of a tormented childhood, skin torn off by a hot iron, stitches from misplaced butter knives at the dinner table when Junior, seven years old, didn’t sit still enough. A crooked nose, broken three times before he managed to escape.”

He looked to the one woman who he knew would recognise this pain, this trauma. 

“You should have no doubt in your minds that this man here, my client,” Andrew said, voice lowered down. “This man was simply fighting for his life. He was running from his worst nightmare, clawing desperately for freedom when all he’d known was pain, chains and despair. He fought against what his father wished for him, every step of the way. In self-defence, he rid the world a serial killer. A rapist. A man who had committed every atrocity known to humankind. If anything, we should be thanking him.”

The room had gone deathly quiet. 

“Ask yourselves,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Is purging the world of a monster that monstrous of a thing to do?”

He turned back to the judge. 

“My client has served his time. He’s done twice as long as he should have for manslaughter, which is the true nature of this crime. Repeatedly, my client has expressed his willingness to comply with parole measures and prove himself a functioning member of our society. If you have any humanity left within you,” 

He looked over his shoulder at Neil. The man held his gaze, blue eyes so intense that Andrew nearly lost his train of thought. 

“Any humanity at all,” he continued. The judge looked down at him, face blank. “You would grant his mother her dying wish, and finally let this injustice rest.” 

He returned to his desk. “That’s all, your honour.” 

It took her a few moments to clear her throat and call: “Court adjourned.”

Two policemen came and cuffed Neil’s hands behind his back. Andrew had done everything he could: it was out of his hands now. He mightn’t ever see Neil again, if by the afternoon the jury had decided Neil’s pleas were worthless and had him sent him right back to maximum security. 

“Thank you,” the man said, just before he was turned away. “You were amazing.” 

Andrew remained very still until the courtroom was empty. 

Now all he could do was wait.

*

“The ‘dying wish’ thing was intense,” Matt commented around a mouthful of falafel. Dan flicked a crumb off his tie, looking at him with an irritated fondness. Both of them -  Wymack too - had sat in for both days of his closing. Dan because she pretended she had any sense of authority over Andrew, Wymack because he was Andrew’s boss, and Matt because he was fatally friendly and had never missed a closing of any of his coworkers, even Andrew. 

“The whole thing was intense,” Dan grumbled. 

“I bet the sexual tension was off the charts,” Allison called out, kicked up her feet onto her desk as she ignored Renee’s unsubtle shushing. 

Andrew ignored them all. 

“We’re just waiting for the verdict?”

“We’ll be called in when the jury’s ready.” 

“It’s been two days. They’ve dragged this on long enough.” 

The phone on his desk started ringing. He shoved it against his ear and said “What.”

“Mr Minyard? This is Amy Johnston from the Post, I was just wondering if you wanted to comment on the outcome of your most recent case -”

He slammed the phone back down onto the receiver, jolting his coworkers out of their idle chatter. He was going to kill Nicky for letting the press through. His cousin was useless, and the press were even worse: there was no outcome. The jury had been silent for 2 days, and at this rate, it’d probably go into three. 

Wymack texted him. I know you’re still at the office. Go home. 

 Andrew didn’t need to be told twice. 

He careened his ludicrously expensive car into the driveway of his small home. Being a lawyer did have its perks, even if his fellows were curious busybodies and he got attached to impossible cases. He’d crack a better whisky tonight and herald in the news of him impending failure half drunk. 

He was never taking a case like this again. Of course, there was no case quite like Nathaniel Wesninski’s, but the point still remained.  

He unlocked his front door, stepped inside, and immediately stilled. 

The heater was on. 

His briefcase, blazer and tie came off, thrown haphazardly in the general direction of Andrew’s study. When he entered his kitchen, he skidded to a stop. 

“Hi,” Neil said, skin far more bronze without the gaudy orange jumpsuit. Andrew just stared. The man ducked his head down, lacing his fingers behind his back. “I - uh, I got Wymack to call you in sick for the verdict. Wanted to surprise you.” 

“You knew,” Andrew said. “You knew the outcome?”

“Of course,” Neil snorted. “Had to do something with the bloodmoney. Don’t worry, it was only two of them. The rest you had hooked.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Andrew said flatly. Neil’s grin flashed, but he was clearly way out of his depth here. Free and nervous about it. Here, because he thought that Andrew would be the only one that cared. 

And he did. For the first time, he did. 

The man gestured at his ankle. “18 months parole. It’s a bit heavy but I’ll get used to it with time, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck, curls bouncing. “Gotta find somewhere to live, I suppose. Figure out how normal life works. I’m applying for a name change: the first random name generator on Google gave me Josten, so that’s probably what I’ll go with.”

“You’re a disaster,” Andrew managed, fighting every urge not to reach out and comb his fingers through the man’s hair. 

“What else is new?” Neil joked. 

“You said you’d go to law school.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You’re holding me to that?” 

Andrew shrugged. “It’s your life.”

“I suppose you’ll regret taking me on when I end up stealing your cases,” Neil teased, leaning a little closer. 

Andrew reached up and tugged on Neil’s collar. “I don’t believe in regret. But I sure as hell will give you the challenge.”

Neil’s lips quirked up at the side, warping his scars and making Andrew’s chest ache.

“Stay,” Andrew said, softer than he intended. 

And, now that he could choose to, Neil Josten, freshly minted and definitely real, whispered: “Okay.”

*

wow only months later did i finally figure out what i wanted from this 

srry its so short!!

[honeypiehotchner]

Lost in a Crowd -- part thirteen

Hi again! This one is another written part :))

Bucky is waiting outside the library, as promised. He’s standing on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, a long sleeve shirt covering his arms. I shove my disappointment at not being able to see his metal arm into the deep corners of my mind.

He sees me and smiles wide. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I exhale, gripping the strap on my bag. “Sorry for making you walk all the way over here, it’s just…” I shake my head, letting the words die out.

“I don’t mind,” he says first, which catches my attention. “But what is it?”

I look up into his eyes -- blue eyes like a stormy sea, the unwritten poem nags me -- and sigh. How is it that someone I hardly know can be so nice to me and so gentle and understanding? How is it that that’s even possible anymore?

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly. “My ex has been lingering around lately. It’s probably nothing. I just feel like I’ve seen him a lot more than usual and it’s been creeping me out.” As if on cue, I shiver from head to toe. “Like I said, it’s probably nothing. It’s probably just because I didn’t see him all summer, so now whenever I see him it feels like it’s too much.” I pause, my gaze traveling back to Bucky’s eyes. They’re sad. “I overshare, too. Speaking of things that are happening too much.”

“I’m sorry,” he offers, his arms lifting slightly, but both hands remain in his pockets. “I’ve never had the issue of running into exes since all mine are probably dead.”

I chuckle at the thought, even though nothing about it is even remotely humorous. “Yeah.”

“But I’m sorry you’re seeing him around a lot,” Bucky continues. “I’m always here to walk you home, though. Or wherever.”

I smile gratefully. “Thank you. But I’d never ask you to do that.”

“Lucky for you, you’re not asking,” he teases. “But I know, just...if you ever need me. I’m here.”

“Thanks,” I murmur, my voice quiet out of shock. Bucky’s tone, it’s so...genuinely soft. He means every word, I can tell just by his face. I just never thought he’d be saying those words to me.

“We should probably start walking,” Bucky breaks through my thoughts as usual. “Before they start getting suspicious.”

I roll my eyes, a laugh bubbling out of my chest. “They’re already suspicious. And I could use some coffee. You?”

He shrugs again, nodding his head. “Lead the way.”

I begin walking toward the Tower because I know for a fact we’ll pass a few places on the way there. Bucky keeps the same pace as I do, walking next to me with his hands tucked away. I let my arm swing free, until I accidentally smack him with it, and then I keep it close to my torso. Neither of us mention me smacking him, but I see him smirking.

Annoyingly attractive ass. Maybe that’ll be his code name. Triple A.

I chuckle at the idea. My friends and I in high school used to have code names for the boys we liked. Bringing that trend back around all these years later might not be a bad idea.

“Ah, here we go,” I duck inside the first coffee shop we come across. Bucky follows behind me, holding the door open for a woman who is exiting with a tray of four coffees. The sight makes me smile.

Bucky stands close to me in line and I’m more than aware of everyone looking at us. I make no move to mention it, though. I’m sure he’s also noticed, so speaking of it won’t help anything.

“Should I get triple espresso instead of double?” I ask, mostly talking to myself.

But Bucky’s eyes go wide. “Are you sure you need that much caffeine?”

“Oh wow,” I roll my eyes. “Don’t lecture me about my caffeine intake, please.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies easily, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

As I’m tearing my eyes away from his lips I hear the door to the shop opening, and because the universe decided today is just my lucky day, my ex boyfriend walks in.

“Dear God,” I mutter, looking away quickly and praying that the fact that I have a superhero standing next to me will knock enough common sense into my ex to not come talk to me.

“What?” Bucky asks, concern lacing his words. “What’s wrong?”

The line moves up, but not fast enough, because there are still three people in front of us, which gives fuckhead here the perfect window to speak.

“Lilith, is that you?”

I’d like to die. Right now.

Bucky’s head turns along with mine to meet the voice that just spoke. “Hi,” I say shortly, hoping to scare him away.

“Who are you?” Oh, great, now Bucky’s joining in.

“I’m Tyler,” my ex says, sticking his hand out. “And you are?” He says it as if he still has the authority to dictate who I hang out with and speak to. Asshole.

Bucky shakes Tyler’s hand with his metal one, and it’s no doubt on purpose. “Bucky,” he says. “Barnes.”

“The Winter Soldier,” Tyler exclaims, probably a little too loudly. “Goddamn.”

“Just Bucky will do,” Bucky says firmly.

The line moves again and we move with it. Bucky discreetly moves to put himself at an angle, so his body is between me and Tyler. I’m not sure if he even notices it, but the action alone makes my heart warm.

“You didn’t tell me you knew the Avengers,” Tyler laughs in disbelief, his head shaking as he stares at Bucky beside me. “What a small world.”

“Small world?” I scoff. “Last I heard, you thought the world was so big and I was the one holding you back and making it seem small.”

“Come on, Lilith,” Tyler says. “I made an honest mistake.”

The line moves again. “An honest mistake?” I nearly laugh. “By cheating on me twice? With different women? I think the biggest mistake was me ever forgiving you.”

Bucky keeps his body between us and I’d give anything to bury myself in his chest right now and to have Tyler disappear into thin air.

“Come on, I said I was sorry.”

“And I said I never wanted to speak to you again,” I remind him hotly. “Please respect that.”

“Lilith--”

“She said she never wants to speak to you again,” Bucky interrupts Tyler at lightning speed. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk out of here right now.”

Tyler flounders for a moment, but after Bucky takes one step toward him, he’s backing away. He’s out of the shop and down the sidewalk by the time it’s our turn to order.

“Hey,” I smile at the cashier, desperate for some sense of normalcy. “Can I get a medium latte?”

She nods, typing it in. “What else?” She looks to Bucky.

“Uh, a black coffee, medium. Please.”

I move to dig my wallet out of my bag, but Bucky swipes his damn card before I can even register what’s happening.

“It’ll be ready in a sec,” the cashier smiles.

“Thanks…” I step to the side, waiting for Bucky to join me before I say, “You didn’t have to pay for me.”

“Consider it a comfort gift for the bullshit you just had to endure.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Thanks. I can’t believe he was stupid enough to do that.”

“He still loves you,” Bucky says quietly.

“Yeah, well, tough shit,” I reply with a shrug. “He shouldn’t have cheated on me twice, then. And I never should’ve forgiven him for the first one, anyway.”

“With different women?” Bucky questions.

“Mhm,” I nod. “The second was my roommate.”

Bucky is quiet. “Jesus.”

“Yep,” I say. “It’s why I live alone now.”

The barista slides our drinks across the counter with a smile. Bucky gets to them first, handing my latte to me with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” I return the expression. “For both things,” I add quietly when we’re outside. “For the coffee and dealing with my ex.”

“Nothing you need to thank me for,” he shrugs. “I’m sorry I kind of had to threaten him. I didn’t want it to come to that, but man he wasn’t backing down.”

Are you kidding? It was hot. But I don’t say that. “Yeah. Yeah, he always had this stupid complex that he could get what he wanted when he wanted it. He used to tell me I couldn’t hang out with friends because we were going to have a ‘romantic night out,’” I use air quotes and laugh. “But he always canceled -- and then he’d get mad at me for it. I swear.”

Bucky shakes his head. “He sounds like a fucking nightmare.”

“Nightmare doesn’t cover it, honestly,” I reply. I take a sip of my latte, the caffeine rushing straight through me. “Alright, I just told you about my disaster of a love life. How’s yours?”

“Mine?” Bucky says through a laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I am?” I raise an eyebrow. “Come on, we’ve got a few minutes, more if we walk slow. Spill.”

Bucky slows his pace without hesitation. I follow suit, muffling my smile with another sip of my coffee.

“Alright, well, every woman I went out with in the 40s is dead now or so old they probably don’t remember, and every woman from this era seems to go running in the other direction, so…” He pauses, looking over at me, his eyes glinting with humor. “I think mine’s also a disaster.”

“I don’t know...They didn’t look like they were running away to me…”

His eyebrows furrow. “When?”

“In the coffee shop,” I explain. “In fact, I think they all looked like they wanted to kill me so they could have you for themselves.”

“What--” Bucky shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“I’m serious!”

“Okay, well, even if they were, I wouldn’t let them touch you,” he replies gently, but there’s a great deal of seriousness in his words. “You know you’re the first woman I’ve gotten coffee with since the 40s.”

“Did you still drink that cup of the bitter void in the 40s?” I tease.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did,” he chuckles, taking a pointed sip of his coffee. “Have you always liked espresso this much? You might as well get an IV at this point.”

“You know, I’ve thought about it,” I say seriously. “But no, my coffee addiction started when I started college. A writer never sleeps.”

Bucky tilts his head, pointing at me with his cup. “I’m not sure that’s healthy.”

Something about his adorable expression and stupid grandpa humor has me speechless and without a witty comeback. My only response is to shove his shoulder, which causes him to grin like a madman.

This time when my arm smacks his, he catches it, hooking mine through his.

And nothing has ever felt more right.

[motleymoose]

Homecoming Pt. 3: Bits & Pieces Ch. 1

Chapter 1 Ashes in a Vacuum

Fandom: The Mandalorian, Star Wars Characters: The Mandalorain (Din Djarin), Gender Neutral Reader, The Child Words: 2.5k+ Warnings: Injury, Angst, A whole lotta attitude

Summary:

I AM ALL SORTS OF ANGRY AT THAT FRAGGING BUCKETHEAD!!! He's leaving me with more questions than I have the ability to ask, and I don't like it one bit.

But dang, that little greenie is cute!

Notes:

Heya! Thank y'all for reading!!! I'm not sure how many chapters this part is gonna have, so??? We're coming up on the halfway point of the story. Maybe my editing skills will improve by then (ha).

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Homecoming Masterlist

The way everything hurt, I was sure I was dying.

Squinting at the dim, fuzzy gray light of my bunk, I ran an internal diagnostics check. With every little wiggle and flex of an appendage, I gradually realized that I was not, in fact, dying, but I wasn’t in prime fighting shape either. Slowly, gingerly, I scrubbed sleep from my burning eyes with the heels of my palms, my vision spotty and fuzzy in places. It felt good to let them linger, pressing heavily into the closed eyelids and relieving the pressure built up behind my eyeballs. As killer headaches went, the one I was experiencing in that moment wasn’t the worst I’d ever had, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like doshing kung.

Now that I was sorta awake, I took physical stock of my body. My eyes still wouldn’t clear, the large flecks of gray shadow swimming lazily in my periphery, so I used touch to see what was going on. Letting my hands do the work, I started with my head, running my fingers lightly down my neck to my shoulders and chest. Something felt off about the shape of my body as I continued to scan downwards to my hips. Foggy memories swirled inside my head, screaming and pain and choking smoke. A jumbled mess of noise and smells overpowered everything else, and the bits and pieces of the fight and flight from Bosph scattered nervously into the darker recesses of my brain.

Frustrated, I sat up, ignoring the sharp tug at the pit of my elbow and the violent, painful thumping rattling my brain. “Fragging buckethead,” I hissed through clenched teeth. He had got me in this mess. Sure, it was my fault for getting a bounty put on me, but if only he’d listened to me in the first place, we coulda avoided Bosph entirely. The anger, bitter and sparkling and pulsing red, numbed the headache and the bruises slightly. And as the ire rose, so too did the functionality of my brain.

I could focus now on what my hands had been trying to tell me: all of my possessions, from my boots to my jumpsuit and everything in between or tucked into pockets, was gone. A worn coarseweave tunic hung from my curved shoulders, the sleeves neatly rolled up around my biceps, and a newer looking pair of long johns, the baggy legs bunched around my knees, had replaced my utilitarian and well-loved apparel.

Oh Mother of Kwath! Had the Mandalorian undressed me?! I mean, I was an adult. He was an adult. And apparently I had been injured enough to warrant such an invasion of privacy. Still, I couldn’t fight the blush burning brightly across my chest and face.

So doshing uncomfortable.

Nope, nope, nope. Didn’t want to think about it anymore.

Pushing down all of the humiliation and trauma and apprehension until the feelings were little more than an annoying itch under my skin, I allowed the rage to take over a little more. It was easier to be angry than to feel anything else, the outrage a warming presence in my chilly body. It also gave me the little boost of courage for what I had to do next.

Screwing my eyes shut, incredibly unprepared for the worst possible outcome, I touched the place under my collarbone where my silver skull pendant rested, a solid, reassuring weight...

Nothing.

Instead of skin-warmed metal, I was met with warm, padded resistance. Peering into the neck of the tunic, I found a thick, dull-colored wrap encasing my midsection from under my armpits to my hip bones. It smelled of the sea on a warm summer’s day, and I wrinkled my nose automatically. Bacta. Whatever injury I had sustained must’ve been bad enough to call for the precious, oftentimes expensive goo. The wrap wasn’t so tight as to constrict breathing or some movements, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either.

The physical uncomfortableness brought me back to the question of why the bounty hunter was keeping me alive, but just like all the other feelings, I ignored it. I needed to find my clothes, my necklace. Get dressed. Leave this beautiful ship and her tyrant pilot behind and become a krill farmer out on the Outer Rim.

Well, probably not a farmer. A droid mech, perhaps.

The soft skin on the inside of my elbow twinged again, pulling me out of my daydreams as I reached for the blanket covering the lower half of my body. A thin, clear tube snaked from a needle inserted into a vein to a nearly-empty pouch hanging from a hook in the bunk wall. Fumbling, my fingernails worked their way underneath the sticky medical tape, peeling up an edge wide enough to pinch. I ripped the tape from my arm, gritting as it pulled hair and skin with it. Once the tape was gone, I slid the needle out of my arm with a hiss, tossing it aside to leak between the cot and the bunk wall. Whatever cocktail of drugs the bounty hunter had mixed into the IV, he’d probably added a good dose of sedative to keep me down for the count. That would’ve explained the fogginess.

And it made me so mad.

I let the full-blown, all-consuming fury in, jerking the coarseweave blanket off of me and freeing my legs. Exhaling forcefully, I tested my injured knee, poking at the matching bacta bandage. The original searing-white agony I had experienced on Bosph was muted now, less of a screaming torment and more of a dull throbbing. Healed enough to put weight on. Hopefully

Groaning and cursing at stiff muscles and bucketheaded hunters respectively, I wriggled on the bed until my bare feet skimmed the floor. The cold steel of the hull platform sent shivers through my flesh, feeding the annoyance and anger and frustration. I inhaled, steadying myself for the shooting pain sure to follow standing on both legs. Pleasantly astonished as I was that it didn’t hurt too horribly, I wasn’t prepared for the lightheadedness. The blood rushed from my face, my vision blackening around the edges.

“Oh frag,” I managed to croak before slumping to the floor in an unconscious heap. --------------- I awoke, some time later, inside my bunk. The coarseweave blanket was tucked firmly beneath my chin, the IV reinserted into my arm, and my red-hot rage completely dissipated. An imposing, blurry figure stood at the foot of the bunk, and I took my time adjusting myself from lying flat to reclining, eyes tightly shut to avoid the spinning shadows. Once I was comfortable, I cracked an eyelid. The Mandalorian’s blurred steely stare greeted me, a clear bag of liquid over one arm and a sling supporting the other.

“You’re awake,” he stated matter of factly.

“D-Didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of travelling in silence,” I replied dryly, voice husky with disuse. “By the way, where’s my jumpsuit?” I opened my eyes all the way, blinking rapidly to dispel the fog coating them. It didn’t work.

The bounty hunter harrumphed softly. “Incinerated. You had a fractured knee, two broken ribs and a blaster wound to the stomach. Plus severe retinal damage and dehydration. You’re lucky you even made it off-planet.” He angled his visor away from me to tap out something on his vembrace.

“Wait, what?”

He tilted his visor towards me and put it simply. “You almost died.”

I feebly waved the non-IVed hand in front of my face. “No, not that. Did you say you incinerated all of my stuff?!”

Ignoring me, per his style, he continued to tap on his vembrace’s control panel.

Devastated, depressed and not a little bit murderous, I glowered squintily at him. I was reeling inwardly, but on the outside I was colder than carbonite.

As he ignored me, I studied him as closely as my recovering vision would allow. I could tell there was something different in his appearance, but it took a moment for me to recognize what it was . A softer quality to his edges that I couldn’t quite understand, his body looking less defined, less bulky than normal. I blinked several times to refocus, and was rewarded with infinitesimally better vision.

“Where’s your armor, shabuir?” I sniped. I may have been more than a little miffed that all of my worldly possessions were now ash and lumps of twisted metal, and biting at a Mandalorian was a temporarily soothing balm to my aching heart.

The hunter reached over me and unhooked the empty bacta IV bag from a rod above my head, replacing it with the one he’d brought. Adjusting the solution valve, he tapped the drip chamber twice before turning his attention back to me. “There’s a spare jumpsuit in the ‘fresher. Keep the bacta wrap on for another hour, at least.” As an afterthought, he added, “We’ll be on Nevarro in a few days.” A frown tainted his voice. “Stay out of my way ‘til then.” Spinning on his heel, he marched to the ladder and disappeared onto the upper deck.

………

It took about twelve hours for me to feel well enough to rid myself of the IV and bacta wraps and get out of the bunk without having the ship buck underneath me like a wild bluurg. I took that time to cry myself to sleep, wake up and cry some more. The loss of my tools and kit was a huge blow to my self-worth, but the loss of the pendant, well. It was the only piece I had left of a life full of fear and hunger and love; it connected me to home. If I didn’t have that, where did I belong?

It took another three hours for me to get up the nerve to get cleaned and dressed. I prowled around the cargo hold, poking and prodding at the carbonite storage, the control panels and the refresher. There hadn’t been much of a chance on my earlier voyages to explore, so with the Mandalorian occupied guiding the ship through hyperspace, I felt emboldened to figure out more about him. Not that there was much to glean from my investigation; the hold contained only the basics of survival for deep space travel, and weapons. Lots of weapons.

Oh, and several beings in what looked to be forced-stasis, frozen in carbonite.

Shivering in sympathy for my hold companions, I turned and shuffled back to the bunk. What I really had hoped to find was the incinerator - most ships kept them below near the back for easy dispatch of trash - but I hadn’t found hide nor hair of one below deck. It could’ve been located above. Not exactly the safest or most pleasant location, yet with all the fire power and carbonite in the hold, it kinda made sense. No need to put three dangerous elements all in one place, if you had the room.

A little voice at the back of my head reminded me of something else: that fragging Mando had all but ordered me to stay put. If he thought for one second that I was going to listen to him, he had another thing coming. I held no ill-will against Mandalorians in general, but this one was getting on my bad side. First arresting me and then almost getting me killed and then destroying the only thing I had left of home reminded me that I only had myself to rely on, that everyone else was out to either disappoint me or kill me.

I’d be doshed if I was going to let that buckethead dictate what I could and couldn’t do, especially since he was the one who took me off that Maker-forsaken moon in the first place.

Especially since he handed me over to Mihcas without an apology.

And took my pendant and tools to boot.

Ascending the ladder turned out to be a formidable feat in my weakened condition, but I prevailed. It took more effort than it should have, and I collapsed onto the cool steel platform once I made it all the way up.

“What are you doing?” The modulated baritone came from my right. Swiveling my head, I watched as the bounty hunter stomped out of the captain’s quarters, a bundle of clothes clutched to his chest and fingers unsurprisingly reaching for his blaster. Whatever was in the bundle must have been precious, for he shifted it away from me to his injured arm. It obviously still hurt; he held the bundle in the crook of his elbow, awkwardly bent and trembling with effort.

Good.

Rage flared in my chest, licking its way up like flames and leaving a red mask pounding behind my eyes. Pushing the anger away, I clambered up to my feet. I was going to get answers, and I’d be fragged if I was going to show emotion in front of him.

“Where’s the incinerator?” I spat savagely. So much for not showing any emotion.

Obviously taken aback by my vehemence and bluntness, he cocked his helmet and pulled his hand from his blaster, resting it casually on his belt buckle. “Why?”

Simple enough question, simple enough answer. But I didn’t feel like answering him. Opening my mouth to respond, a cooing sound interrupted me. It sounded like it was coming from the bundle still shielded in his injured arm.

Snapping my jaw shut with a painfully audible click, I raised my eyebrows pointedly at him. “Trafficking something illegal there, chakaar?” Anxiety clenched my stomach in its viselike grip, and I had to force the bile from rising in my throat. I was still weak from Bosph, but if he was buying and selling living beings to make a living, he was no better than my ex-boss. No better than me. Which meant I was going to have to hurt him or die trying.

A sharp hiss of an inhale through the vocoder told me I’d hit on something. Something he didn’t want me knowing. A whispery stream of very impolite Mando’a floated in the space between us. The air was thick with tension, and both of us were patiently waiting for the other to make the next move.

The coo came again, slightly muffled, followed by a bubbly giggle, startling us out of our stare-down. The bundle wriggled, and the Mandalorian shifted his attention from me to it as the thing became too much to handle with one injured arm. Grunting either out of pain or frustration, the bounty hunter stepped backwards until he was in the doorway of the bunk. Squeaking and chittering indignantly, the lump in the clothes broke free with a victorious huff.

And it was the cutest fragging thing I’d ever laid my eyes on.

_____________________

Notes:

chakaar - corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse shabuir - extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger

[number-one-micoverse-fan]

Matters of the Heart

Sickfic for @mushroomminded because I know what she likes. 

*****************

“Dad? …Dad. Dad! DAD!”

Dom jolted in his seat, blinking rapidly to clear the film over his eyes and refocusing his attention on Cody. His son was leaning forward in his chair at the dining room table, brow furrowed in concern and not a little worry. Dominic forced his fuzzy mind to concentrate on the most important aspect of his life.

“Mm, yeah? Sorry, I—not awake yet. Coffee—need my coffee. What were you saying?” He murmured the words the words through a mouth that felt like it was made of wet and heavy clay.

Cody’s lips pressed into a thin line, bottom lip sucking in between his teeth as he looked his dad up and down, “I was…saying how Milo and I were planning on going to the Parker house again after school today. If that’s okay with you?”

There was a very slow moment wherein Dom struggled to put the pieces of Cody’s sentence together. But then he smiled warmly and nodded, “Sure, that shouldn’t be a…um. Should be fine. Take—just take your phones. Let, uh, let one of Milo’s dads know where you’ll be.”

Cody beamed, “We will! Thanks dad!”

Dom made a pleased noise of consent as Cody ducked his head to rapidly type something on his phone, no doubt letting his partner in crime know their plans were good to go. Dom breathed out a heavy and burden-laden breath, shoulders slumping as his eyelids slid closed once again.

It felt like only seconds later that Cody was waking him up with a quick hug and a shout goodbye as he ran out the door to school. Dom stared blankly at the empty chair his son had left behind, his mind tangling into a knot of stray and disconnected thoughts. He ran his fingertips distractedly over the polished woodgrain of the table, glazed eyes finding a middle distance in the pattern of the floor.

He didn’t realize he’d been dozing off again until his phone buzzed in his pocket with a reminder that he needed to get ready for work soon.

————

Dominic was reprimanded for dozing off at his desk three times.

Once, he fell asleep in the elevator.

His coworkers kept asking him if he felt all right, telling him maybe he should ask to go home. Dom kept waving them off with a thin and awkward smile and telling them he was fine, it was just a bit of stress, really, some coffee would wake him right up.

The drive home was stretched time from minutes into days, streetlights blurring into smears at the edges of his vision. Cars honked at him angrily when he drifted into their lane, the noise jolting him from his hazy stupor and snapping his focus back on the road.

The house was quiet and empty when he got back home, the lights off and the windows dark. Cody was undoubtedly still out and about with Milo. But that was all right, let the boy have his freedom. Dominic kicked his shoes off and shuffled into the sitting room, collapsing on the couch with a groan. He only intended to take a moment to breathe and unwind before he got up, changed, and started on dinner for Cody.

But the next thing he was aware of was being shaken awake by Cody and noticing how dark the room really was.

“Shoot, nh, s-sorry, Cody, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Dom heaved himself up, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and trying to shake the lagging dizziness from his mind, “I’ll get you something to eat in a minute, just let me—“

“Dad, you don’t have to, it’s okay, I ate at Milo’s,” Cody had his hand on Dom’s arm, fingers curled into the fabric of his father’s shirt sleeve, his face a mask of worry, “I came home and you were asleep on the couch and you were so tired this morning, I just thought I’d let you sleep. You needed it. Did you eat dinner, though? You probably should…”

Dom blinked at him, something twisting in his chest at the thought that Cody had to take care of him.

“I’m all right,” He said, a little hoarsely, swallowing a lump that was pressing hard against the inside of his throat, “Just, um, long day. I’ll get some dinner. Did you do your homework?”

————

Everything was starting to pile up.

Bills, work, obligations to Cody and the school, maintaining the house, the car, and social connections. With everything else he had to take care of, Dominic had started neglecting himself. But it wasn’t a big deal; a few nights missing sleep to do some work on the side, make some extra money, try and get some savings so he could do good by his son.

Shave a few hours off of sleep here.

Skip a few meals there.

It was nothing. Really, it was nothing. Of course he was dozing off every so often, he was working twice as hard as usual.

It wasn’t a big deal.

He’d get through this and on the other side would be a full night’s sleep and plenty of time with Cody.

————

Except he was halfway down the stairs one morning when his stomach lurched and his breath seized in his lungs. His fingers cramped, his arms curling in pain, a stabbing agony radiating from his chest.

His foot missed the step and he blacked out as the world pitched beneath him and the walls spun.

Dom hit the ground hard, driving what little breath he had from his lungs as he clutched at his shift front. He wasn’t even sure he’d stopped falling because the ceiling was still spinning around and around enough to make his mind feel as if it were in a blender, smearing along the sides of the inside of his skull.

Cody’s terrified face swam into view, shouting, his mouth moving, his words so muffled they were distant beats of sound from a faraway shore. Dominic tried to say something, tried to comfort his son, but his lungs weren’t working right and his chest ached with the pain of a blade slipped easily between his ribs. Exhaustion and adrenaline fear battled one another as he stared hopelessly up at Cody through watery eyes.

He blinked and Cody’s phone was in his hand.

Blink and there were more voices, thudding footsteps.

Blink and there were strangers over him, hands on him, pressing against his wrist, his neck.

Blink and he was off the floor, rattling on something, sweet oxygen pouring into his strangled lungs.

White lights and muffled beeps and voices and it sounded like someone was crying.

Dominic made a laborious effort to turn his head and managed to make out Cody, pressing against Dan Fuller’s side, shaking with tears.

God, no, please, no.

The last thing he’d wanted to do was make his son cry…

————

Dom rose into consciousness with a sluggish return to his senses. He first became aware of his body, laying down and feeling like one massive bruise, muscles sore and aching. Then a soft, rhythmic beeping, the shifting of another person, and his own, shallow breathing reached his ears. There was a soft light on his eyelids and he peeled them open, blinking the gummy blurs of sleep from his vision as he focused on the cream colored ceiling.

A second, more lucid assessment brought attention to the padded clamp over his finger (heart monitor?), the pinch in the back of his hand (intravenous line), and the thin rubber tubing around his face, tucked into his nose (oxygen). With a soft grunt, Dom tried to shift his weight and sit up, wincing at the tight feeling in his chest.

“Want me to call a nurse?”

Slower than he’d like, Dom turned his head and saw Jake Pierly slouched in a chair next to the hospital bed. He looked more drawn and tired than usual, the bags under his eyes deeper and darker. Milo was in a chair next to him, curled up in a position that looked a little uncomfortable, but sprawled in such a way that he had his head in Jake’s lap.

Dom automatically looked around for Cody. Jake noticed,

“Dan finally got Cody to get up and leave the room, get something to eat.” Jake said in a low voice so he didn’t wake the sleeping teenager. He was idly running his fingers through Milo’s hair, an almost absent motion, “He’d been in here all day, didn’t want to leave you alone. He was really worried.”

Licking his lips and throat clicking as he tried to work the dryness in his mouth away, Dom spoke in a cracked whisper, his voice hoarse as if he’d been screaming, “Wha’ happened…?”

Jake snorted softly, an ironic smile twisting one side of his mouth, “You had a heart attack, stupid. What did you think was going to happen after you’ve nearly been working yourself to death?” Dominic stared at him and Jake sighed, rolling his eyes, “Dom, even I know you can’t skip that much sleep without consequences. And I am the king of skipping sleep.” His expression softened, tired in the knowledge of things that were too heavy to put into words but too hard to carry alone,

“You know you could have asked for help, right? We’re right next door. If you ever need anything…I mean, Dan and I…” Pink dusted the tops of Jake’s ears and he shifted awkwardly, disturbing Milo who murmured in his sleep and clutched tighter at the hem of Jake’s shirt. Jake shushed him gently, brushing his Milo’s hair back from his freckled face,

“God, Dom, you’re practically a part of this family.”

Dom’s face felt hot and his eyes burned and he sniffed, turning his head away to look at the ceiling.

Part of the family.

He let out a breathy, unstable chuckle,

“Miranda’s gonna kill me…”

Jake laughed a little, “Yeah, she’s gonna kick your ass.”

“DAD!”

And then Cody was in his lap, face pressed into Dom’s collarbone, fingers digging into the papery hospital gown. Dom wrapped his arms around his son and held him tightly, ignoring the pressure in his chest and tugging of the IV line, ignoring Milo’s happy sounds and Dan’s relieved praise. Ignoring everything but the boy in his arms. He kept one arm around Cody’s back, put the other into his son’s hair, held him as close as he could and apologized in strangled whispers, promising to never do it again, promising he’d be better, grateful that he had who he did in his life.

Cody was his world, the real center of his universe. He’d done everything in his life for Cody.

And he’d be damned if he was going to let some stupid heart attack keep him away from the people he loved the most.

[cupcakemolotov]

Scatter the Die

I was originally just going to reblog my old post but I couldn’t find it and I decided that I couldn’t be bothered to keep digging for it. I decided to pull a lalainajanes and update/edit/re-post a thing to see if it will get me off my ass to finish the sequel. Also, I apologize, because I’m pretty sure I’ve changed the title of this thing twice now so oops.

You can find it here on A03 if you prefer.

Caroline shivered beneath the blankets she'd been tucked into, thankful that the bone jarring shakes were finally easing. One of the disapproving medics had surprised her clothing change and trussed her up like a thanksgiving turkey, but she’d been cleared from taking a ride to the hospital. A warming IV did not sound like a fun way to spend the rest of her day, and the last thing she’d have expected was to brush off her was hypothermia training in New Orleans of all places.

Magic had changed a lot of things over the decades, but the last few years had been particularly difficult. The veil was thinning and monsters sometimes wore human faces. Humanity sat poised on another apocalyptic event, and they fought it one case at a time.

Today wasn’t likely her last brush with death.

But her own state of well being wasn’t her highest priority. All around her cops and feds scrambled to collect evidence, trash bags and waiters being handed as they worked against the clock. The evidence was disappearing with the muddy rain, and once gone, they’d have no chance to collect it.

They owed the dead cops more than that.

Mouth tightening, Caroline watched the other ambulance pull out, it’s lights flashing as it’s wheels hit pavement. To lose a rookie on his first day in Homicide would be a kick in the gut for the department that was already reeling from two deaths. She could only hope he pulled through.

Goddammit.

Two weeks ago, what should have been an open and shut suicide had turned into a horror movie gone bad. What lived behind the veil was hungry and angry. Assuming her department was allowed to keep so much as a paper lip attached to the files of this one, explaining the deaths to the grieving families wouldn’t be easy. There was no right when nightmares gorged.

Oh, the Feds would make all the right noises at there having been a cop-killing Fae running loose and offer little else. It was why she’d taken to making two set of notes. So that when her case file disappeared she’d still have her back up files. But in this case, even if the Feds did make an evidence grab, at least they knew the murderer was dead.

She’d seen to that much.

"Detective?"

Caroline bit the side of her cheek at the familiar voice, glancing over to find Special Agent Mikaelson walking towards her. In his hands was a steaming takeout cup, and his jaw was set at an angle so rigid she wondered how he hadn’t cracked teeth. He wasn't wearing a coat in respect to the drizzle, and his curls looked riotous. For a moment they stared at each other before he offered her the cup.

Wary, she wiggled a hand free, and was amused to discover it was hot chocolate. Taking a careful sip, she tipped her head. "Agent?”

He leaned against the side of the ambulance with eyes that were once again dark with things she'd no intention of reading. "I've been told to keep this short."

"Elena can be fierce," Caroline murmured as she glanced over at the brunette EMT who was assessing another injury. "But she means well."

"Friends?"

She shrugged. "It never hurts to make them."

A quirk of his lips at the slight accusation in her voice. He didn't look at all bothered by her jab. She might have admired his thick skin, but it honestly just made her want to punch him in his perfect teeth.

"I owe you an apology."

She paused, the drink inches from her mouth and studied the lines of his face, both brows arching. "For what exactly? I have a list, if that’d be helpful.”

A hint of a dimple before he slipped one hand into his pocket, face sobering. "You make a habit to carry cold iron with you, Detective?"

The knife was an old safety blanket, born from teenage years spent knowing that a fae nightmare had killed her mother. Years later, the truth might have freed that particular fae from its fate, but Caroline had stopped feeling comfortable without cold iron around her.

Special Agent Mikaelson from the FBI Department of Weird didn't need to know that.

"My captain encourages police officers to carry iron, Agent. Shall I dig out my handbook?"

A flicker of something bright slipped along his pupil, and Caroline tilted her head, gaze narrowing. She knew what magic looked like. Until that moment, she'd have sworn Mikaelson was human. A complete ass, but human. Now, she wasn't so sure.

"That knife wasn't department issued," Mikaelson said with a hint of a blade in his voice.

"I'm sorry," Caroline said serenely after she took a slow sip of her drink. It was really good hot chocolate. She wondered where he'd gotten it. "Where exactly is this apology?"

His eyes were calculating, as he studied her. Those disgustingly long lashes lowered to hide his gaze, and when they lifted, his pupils were golden. The blue of his iris had narrowed to a thin band, and the color had changed to something several shades brighter. It was like looking at the heart of a star.

But other than those eyes, he somehow managed to appear completely human.

Her mouth ran dry.

"We underestimated her," Klaus said and the crisp tones of his accent had sharpened a hair. "Fortunately, it appears that you were also underestimated, and that was a lucky break. My sincere apologies, Detective Forbes, that you were pulled into a situation you shouldn't have had to deal with."

Something about his tone irritated her, and she concentrated on that instead of how she could almost feel his words on her skin. Taking a careful, deliberate sip of her drink, Caroline forced herself to hold his gaze.

"I'm a cop," she said bluntly. She didn't back down from his gaze, even when the tilting of his head wasn't quite… right. "It's my job to deal with the unexpected. How long have you know what we were hunting was a she and what it could do, Agent?"

He long had he known that this… woman could drown someone when they were standing between four walls? Caroline was certain she'd dream of screaming, the saltwater scent and the taste of brine in her mouth. The monster who'd had no face that Caroline could describe with words, she'd had no interest in another woman. The rage, the worst of the water had been used to attack the men who'd stood around her as they'd examined the scene. Surprise had been the only reason Caroline had won, surprise and an old, old habit.

Watching the life go out of a nightmare was no easier than watching a human die.

Those glittering eyes studied her. "I'm afraid that's classified."

"Is it now," Caroline said slowly, a hint of drawl elongating her vowels.

"You're a bit of an enigma, Detective," Mikaelson said, the calculation in his gaze turning to iron she recognized. "Your mother murdered; yet, you worked to clear her supposed murderer's name. You’ve filed a number of complaints with the local bureau when they couldn't produce information on a number of supernatural killers."

"Families deserve the truth," she said stiffly. "They also deserve to know what justice has been given. It's not that difficult a concept."

"Sometimes, truth isn't the right answer."

Caroline tossed the last of the hot chocolate on the ground and stood, unwrapping herself from the blankets. The oversized clothing was a little ridiculous and her hair was a tangled mess scraped into a wet bun, but right then she couldn't care. Pasting on a fake smile, she hoisted the ends of her pants so she wouldn't trip. "Yeah, well, in that case, why don't you shove that apology up your ass."

His brow arched. She didn't like how much taller her was than her when he straightened, and she lifted her chin to scowl when he stepped into her space. "Regardless, the bureau will extend its apologies to you and your precinct."

Her teeth ground together. "So that's it?"

"The case is closed."

"Oh yeah? Care to tell me what the motive was exactly?" Caroline asked. “Or why she picked men. Cops. People I worked with.”

"I'm afraid that's classified as well," Mikaelson said.

"Donovan has a daughter," she said carefully. “They all had families.”

Those burning eyes softened a hair. "The loss of any life is always a regret."

Caroline showed him the edge of her teeth. "And this mythical apology of yours. Will it include using cops as bait?"

The smile wiped from his face and his chin lowered, so they were nearly eye to eye. It struck her again, how pretty he was, with his scruffy jaw and burning eyes. His magic should have frightened her, but all it did was piss her off. He'd had this magic and she'd almost drowned.

He was such a dick.

"Is that what you believe happened?"

Of course that was what happened. Mikaelson was obviously not human, and Caroline had seen this kind of maneuvering before, when her mother had been killed. Had seen good and honest men, used as easily discarded chess pieces. She wasn't stupid and she resented that he thought she was but this was also not a battle she could win. Not today. But maybe tomorrow.

So instead of picking the fight she really wanted, she shrugged. “Are you saying you weren't using us?”

"Be very careful, Forbes," Mikaelson warned, gaze tracking a curl as it tumbled across her cheek, the wild colors in his gaze shifted like tectonic plates. "There are things in this world you don't want to engage."

Caroline wasn't sure if he referencing himself or whatever had happened to fellow cops. Not that it mattered. When had she ever let something stop her from getting answers for the families who'd had a loved one stolen? Knowing that a killer was dead meant nothing if you couldn't grasp why.

She knew that sometimes there was no good answer. This wasn't one of those times. Still, she'd no reason to tell Special Agent Klaus Mikaelson that, did she?

"I'm just a murder cop."

Mikaelson laughed. Deep and rich, dimples flashing, he watched her as the gold and wild blue faded from his eyes. "It'd be easier if you were, Forbes."

It was on the tip of her tongue, to ask him what he was. What caused eyes to shift to molten heat that way, while the rest of them remained normal. What kind of power did he have? But she sensed a trap there, saw him waiting and refused to give him the satisfaction.

Bonnie might know, anyway.

"Apparently your case is closed," Caroline said with sugary sweetness as she shifted to walk away. "So, here's to hoping I never see you again."

"I don't believe it will be quite that simple, Detective," Mikaelson said softly, voice laced with warning as she moved towards the squad cars.

She rather thought it was.

Three days later, when her Captain brought up that the FBI were digging through her old cases, she was irritated. When the official letter offering her a both an apology as well as position showed up, she dug up the card that had been left on her desk and the number she refused to input into her phone.  She never replied to the Bureau directly, but she did send a single text with a picture of a letter on fire.

The response had left her grinding her teeth.

Some things are inevitable, love.

[allmight-amiright]

Redo. Bakugou Katsuki

Request: hey hey hey! Your angst is well, angsty. I love it, could you do a Bakugo&Reader fighting a villain with a quirk that can erase memories and the reader gets caught by their quirk? I love your writing keep it up!

Word count:2.5K

Warnings: Swears

Notes:  If you don’t think Bakugou says ‘yo,’ you can fight me. Can we also make it canon that Bakugou loves saying shit like “THAT’S MY WIFE”

It was just a normal Wednesday afternoon where Bakugou was concerned.  Sure, you got called off on a mission, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He had work to do.  It was Wednesday and Wednesday meant trash day, mid-week laundry day, and “Bakugou, please, for the love of All Might, organize your dresser drawers” day.  With you out on a mission, that also meant that he was in charge of dinner so the two of you could eat when you were done. 

Bakugou felt like a housewife straight out of the 1950s.  He had a bandana to hold his hair away from his face.  He had an apron protecting his black t-shirt.  It was your flower-y apron, but it was an apron nonetheless.  He had been balancing a number of different tasks during the day, making sure his pasta didn’t boil over, folding and putting away your laundry, making the bed, paying attention to his favorite soap opera so he could discuss with Kirishima later, cleaning out the fridge, and anything else he could think of that needed to be done.

He was draining his pasta when his phone started to buzz and play the tune that he had set to your contact.  He hit the speaker button and continued dumping his noodles into the strainer.  “Hey, babe.  How’s it going?” He asks.

“Woah.  Didn’t realize we had reached ‘babe’ status,” a voice that is very much not yours answers with a laugh.

“Oh, hey, Kirishima.  Dude! Did you see today’s episode?!”

“Dude! Jessica!”

“I know! She’s totally going to get murdered by her ex-husband’s new girlfriend’s son.”

“He’s so gonna kill her! Okay, but Ivan, though?  I didn’t like him, but I think he’s growing on me.”

“Yeah, he and Karen stole that baby and he’s like a new dude.  A good dad?  Now that’s something I can get behind.  It’s really too bad that the baby was just a scheme set up by Karen so she could leave the baby with Ivan and sneak off with Derek.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna suck when Ivan finds out.  But, he’s not find out for at least another three months.”

“Dude, I know,” Bakugou says, sighing.  Then he remembers.  “Yo, why do you have Y/N’s phone?”

“Oh, yeah! So, here’s the shit.  Dropped my phone in the ambulance on the way here, so one of the EMT guys is go-”

Bakugou’s smile drops.  He sets the pot in the sink, holding his phone up to his ear.  “Why did you need an ambulance, Kirishima?” He growls.

“Oh, I didn’t! Y/N did,” Kirishima says nonchalantly, as if it really wasn’t a big deal and that it was as normal as catching a bus.

“What the hell did you do to my wife!”

“Oh! Right! That’s why I called you. See,” Kirishima’s composure switches from his typical cheer to more of a nervous shake, but most people did that when they had to talk to an angry Bakugou, especially if it concerned you.  

“I swear on your mother’s life, if you let any villain lay a finger on my wife, I will personally cut off your toes and shove them down your throat!” Bakugou threatens, his rage bubbling with each passing moment.

“No! Dude, she’s fine! Well, kind of… Like, she’s definitely awake, sitting right here next to me.”

“Then, let me talk to her.”

“Well, about that… Maybe you should talk to her in person.”

“Remember Kirishima, if I get there and there’s as much as a scr-”

“Yeah, I know, dude.  Toes.  Yum.  Gotcha.  Stop threatening me and come here.”

Bakugou didn’t need to be told twice.  He had already hung up the phone and was half way out the door. “Shoes, keys, phone, wallet,” he mutters to himself, patting his pockets before leaving.

But he came bursting back through the door a few moments later with a simple, “Fuck, my chicken!”  He yanked open the oven, grabbing the dish of chicken breasts, ready to be added to the pasta, recoiling as the scalding hot pan seared his hand. Bakugou released a stream of swears as he held his hand under the now running tap, digging in a drawer for a pot holder. With his new safety precaution, he removed the chicken, setting it down on top of the stove before sprinting out the door. 

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

He stood at the front desk at the hospital, tapping his fingers against the desk impatiently, waiting for a receptionist.  A tired young man emerged from around the corner and took a seat and gave Bakugou a polite smile. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“I need to see Y/N Bakugou.”

“Okay,” he murmured, typing your name into his computer.  “What’s the relation?”

“She’s my wife! I should get to see her!”

“Can I see your ID?”

“This is ridiculous,” Bakugou grumbled, pulling his ID out of his wallet and handing it to the guy behind the counter.  

The receptionist doesn’t say anything, checking the information on the ID to the information Kirishima had written on your patient forms.  “Okay, sir, everything seems to match up, Ms. Bakugou is on the seventh floor, room 737.  Just go through those doors and the elevator will be to your left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, sliding his ID back in his wallet and starts to walk away.  “Oh, hey, by the way, that’s Mrs. Bakugou to you.”

Up the elevator and down the hall he went.  He practically slammed the door to your room open.  “Alright, dumbass, what-” He’s greeted by the horrified stare of a little girl hooked up to an IV.  He looked at the number plaque on the door.  747. Shit. “I’m so sorry.  I’ll just be going,” he says, starting to leave. 

“Hey, mister!”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Are you that one superhero with the fire?”

“Yeah, that’s me.  Listen, kid, I’m a little busy right n-”

“You and the really nice lady are married, right?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at you being referred to as ‘the really nice lady.’  He knew just how feisty you could be, especially with him.  He had seen you red hot mad, threatening to smack him with a spoon.  He knew that you could and would kick his ass given a good enough reason.  But he also had seen you out in the field, saving civilians.  It brought out your motherly nature and what being a hero was all about, helping people.  So, he figures he could see where she got the idea.

“Yeah, I am,” he answers, smiling a little, running his thumb over his silver wedding band. 

“She saved my life today, but I didn’t get to tell her thank you.  So, can you give this to her?” The girl holds up a folded piece of paper with a crudely drawn image of you and the girl on the front with ‘Thank you’ written in purple crayon, but it was spelled more like ‘Thak yew,’ but it’s the sentiment that matters, right?

Bakugou walked over to her and crouched down so he was level with her.  “I’ll tell you what, I’ll take this to her, and when she’s all good to go, I’ll bring her by for a quick visit, okay?”

Her eyes lit up as she clutched the teddy bear that was wearing a little mask that was similar to the one you wear.  “You’d really do that? She’s my favorite!”

“I’m sure that she’d love to meet you.  Now, I have to go find her, but I’ll make sure she gets your card.”

“Thank you, mister!”

“Of course.  Feel better, kid.”  Bakugou walked out of the room, closing the door much quieter than he had opened it.  

740.

739.

738.

Found it.

737.

He double-checked the number on the door and just to be safe, he took the clipboard of health information off the wall, checking it over for your name.

There it was. 

Y/N Bakugou.

He opened the door to you laying in your hospital bed, carrying on a quiet conversation with Kirishima who was sat in the chair next to your bed.  At the sound of his entering, you and Kirishima stop your conversation and turn your attention to him.  Kirishima smiles at him, but you just stare at him in confusion.

“Hey, man!” Kirishima says, raising a hand in greeting. 

Bakugou moves over to your side.  He sets the card down on the table next to you before sitting down on the edge of the bed.  “What’s up, dumbass?” He asks, looking at you.

You just look at him, pulling your legs up towards the rest of your body and away from him.  “Kirishima?” She asks, turning back to her previous conversation partner.  

Bakugou looks at you bewildered and then turns his gaze to his friend.  “I thought you told me that she was fine!” He snapped.

“Yeah, she is, dude!”

“Then, why is she acting like that!”

“I’m right here, you know,” you pipe up, obviously offended that he’s talking about you in such a manor when you’re three feet away from him. 

“Yeah, about that,” Kirishima says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  “So, we were fighting off this villain, right? Well, we were helping the people we evacuated and this dude’s like, ‘Yo, my daughter is still in there.  You gotta help her.’ So, we were like, ‘Ight. Bet.’ So, we’re going to find this dude’s daughter and we find her, obviously, because we’re heroes, you know?  Anyway, so, we got the kid and we’re leaving and then bad guy shows up out of nowhere! He’s all like ‘gotta snatch those memories for that power,’ and he’s going for the kid, but Y/N throws the kid behind her just in time to save the girl, so that’s the good news.  Bad news, she doesn’t remember shit.  I’ve been trying to jog her memory since she woke up, but nothing’s working, dude.”

Bakugou turns his attention to you.  “Who am I?” He asks.

“A grouchy asshole who came into my hospital room, called me a dumbass, and started yelling at the only person who’s been here for me!”

“My name, smartass,” he snarls.

“How the hell am I supposed to know! Didn’t you hear? I don’t remember.”

“You don’t get to not know me! We’re married! See this?” He snaps, holding up his hand next to yours. “Married.  So, you better figure out who I am real fast, princess.”

“Why would I marry you? You’re a complete ass!”

“I said the exact same thing, but you sure as hell didn’t care then, so why do you now!”

“Because I don’t know who you are!” You shout. 

 The room is filled with eerie silence as it finally sinks in. You really don’t know.  You really don’t remember being married to him for the past five years.  You don’t remember dating him.�� You don’t even remember his name.  

“Y/N, baby, it’s me.  It’s Katsuki.”  He scoots closer to you, taking your hands in his, maybe hoping the feeling would ignite some kind of memory.  “I’m your Kacchan. Your literal hot-stuff.  Come on! Sugar Muffin?”

Kirishima can’t help but snort.

“Die.”

“Listen, I believe you, really, but I just don’t remember.”

“No! You have to.  You have to remember, Y/N.  You can’t just forget everything that we’ve been through.  Everything we’ve planned.  We had our whole life planned! You can’t just forget something like that, Y/N!” He begged.  The anguish was beginning to wash over him.  How could you?  How could you just forget about The Plan?  You guys were supposed to go to the shelter soon and pick out a dog.  The two of you wanted to have a kid within the next few years.  You were going to buy your first house outside of the city, so Yuri could grow up in a safer place.  Yuri was supposed to have a little sister.  They were going to grow up and go to a hero school, just like their parents, if they wanted to.  

“Please,” he whispered, squeezing your hands.  “You have to remember.  I can’t spend the rest of my life knowing that you don’t remember who I am.  You’re my everything, Y/N.  I mean, just look at these pictures!” He pulls his phone from his pocket and opens his camera roll, going to the saved album that was just pictures of the two of you. “Maybe if you look at how things used to be, you’ll remember.  See, there’s us last Christmas.  You bought us those stupid reindeer antlers, because you thought they’d make a cute picture for our Christmas card.  This one’s from your birthday.  We took a hike and had a picnic next to this really pretty lake.  I bet that you couldn’t catch five grapes in your mouth.  You couldn’t, so I got to throw you in the lake. You ended up getting pneumonia, because I’m a dumbass.  We took this one on our anniversary.  I took you to the aquarium.  I hadn’t seen you that excited in such a long time.  You were running around that place like a kid in a candy store.  You kept trying to take selfies with the fish.  Here’s one of our wedding pictures.  You looked so incredible.  I really couldn’t believe that I was finally going to be able to call you my wife.  Look, there’s Kirishima ruining our perfectly good photo.”  

Bakugou probably spent close to two hours scrolling through the photos, telling you a little bit about each one, hoping that you would jump in with some other memory from the day, but he never got that.  You just sat there in silence, smiling politely, adding a small ‘That’s nice’ every now and again.  But, you just truly didn’t remember and no amount of pictures was going to change that.  Bakugou was aware of that, but he wasn’t willing to admit it.  He wasn’t willing to admit that every moment, every kiss, every secret shared was now gone from your memory.  

He finally stopped.  He couldn’t do it anymore.  He couldn’t keep scrolling through those photos and see you feeling nothing right in front of him.  He took your hands, squeezing them in his.  Bakugou leaned his forehead against your knuckles.  His back rose and fell with shaky breaths.  “I should’ve been there.  I should’ve protected you.  That’s what a good husband does.  But, I just let this happen to you instead.  I’m such a piece of shit…”

“Stop that,” you say.  “From everything you told me, you sounded like you were a perfect husband.  I’m sorry, okay?  I wish I could remember.”

“I just don’t.”

[kello-unknown]

NEVER THOUGHT IT’D BE HER

Summary:  Max lives an… entertaining life.  She just got out of a relationship she thought would last forever.  Meeting one person leads to more people in her life, and before she knows it, she’s falling in love with someone she never expected to fall in love with.

Words:  1,492

Warnings: like one flashback (but its a flashback of a flashback so), brief mention of alcohol consumption, flirty talk (kinda)

Author’s Note:  dont forget if u wanna catch up on what happened in the last chapter, you can click down below and re-read and remember what happened to the gang lol :D

CHAPTER 1, CHAPTER 2, CHAPTER 3, CHAPTER 4, CHAPTER 5, CHAPTER 6, CHAPTER 7

MASTERLIST

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CHAPTER 8

               THE next few days begin the same for the most part.  Alex starts to wake up a bit earlier every day now that she’s becoming used to waking up in Max’s bed.  The two see each other before Max leaves for work and Alex starts to plan for her day.  Alex had called her boss, who had, over the course of the years she has worked there, become a close friend, and told her a brief story of what happened.  Her boss told her to take as much time as she needed to recover, and Alex intended on doing just that.

               Throughout the first week of her being at the house, Alex spends most of her days taking walks down the street and visiting the town since she lived a few towns over before everything happened.  She gets home around five o’clock usually, and Max comes home from work a little more than an hour later.  The two would eat dinner together and share their day.  They’d watch a silly movie or something stupid so that there would be background noise as they would just talk to each other and enjoy the time they have.  After a while, one of them would say that it was late and that they should go to bed, the other would agree, and the cycle of activities would repeat the next day.

               One day, as she’s taking her daily walk, Alex comes by what looks like, to her, a night club.  She walks by and realizes it’s just a bar.  She’s practically explored the whole town at this point, and this seems to be the only bar in this area.  Then it hits her.  She remembers what Max told her about the night she and Natalie broke up. 

               After what feels like hours of crying, Max gets up and walks to the fridge, looking for the one thing that’s always been there for her whenever she’s had a problem that no one else could help her with.  Downing one bottle of beer, she goes to grab another one, along with her house keys, and goes for a walk.  Ten minutes go by, and she arrives at her go-to bar, stumbling in….

               This must be the bar Max went to drown all of her sorrows.  And by the looks of Max, there must have been a lot of sorrows. 

               Alex pulls her phone out of her pocket and goes through her text messages and clicks on one name.  She hasn’t told anyone about what happened between her and Devin, not even Casey, her best friend since God knows how long.  She couldn’t imagine life without her.  Casey was always there for her, no matter what. 

               “Hey girlie, you doing anything tn?  I have a lot to tell you…”  She sent the text and looked back up at the bar front.  She hears a ding, brings her face back down towards her phone and sees that Casey already texted her back.  “omg yes ofc.  its been a while, im sure u do lmao.  have anywhere in particular u wanna go?”  Alex smiles.

               “There’s this cute bar I just found.  ‘The Black Lion.’  Idk if you’ve ever heard of it, but I’ll send you the addy and meet you there.. say 8ish tn?” 

               “i think ive been there once or twice if memory serves.  ill be there bitch ;)”

               Alex puts her phone into her pocket and continues on her walk.

               After being out for almost four hours on her walk, Alex gets back to the house around the same time she usually does and notices Max’s car in the driveway.  Curious as to why she’s home much earlier than usual, she heads inside to see what’s up.  Walking in the front door, she sees Max sitting at the counter on her phone.  Max looks up to see her roommate and greets her.  Alex does the same as she walks over towards her and asks why she’s home so early in the evening.  “My boss was convinced I was too tired to work even though I already finished my work for the day.  So, she sent me home early since ‘It’s Friday,’ and I should go out with my ‘friends to celebrate the end of another week.’  Her words, not mine,” Max explains. 

               Alex giggles.  “Well good for you then, I guess.  Anyways, I was actually going out with one of my friends tonight since I haven’t seen anyone in a while.”  Max’s eyes widen.

               “That’s great!  Where are you guys gonna go?” she inquires.

               “That bar in town.. I think it’s called ‘The Black Lion’?”  Max nods.

               “Oh!  I love the BL!  That’s my go-to bar.  It’s great.”  Alex smiles at Max’s enthusiasm.  “Listen if anyone - and I mean anyone - gives you a problem trying to get in, tell them you know me.  I’m a regular there and if that doesn’t work, call me.  I’ll come down and show off the guns.”  She then rolls up her sleeves and flexes her bicep.  Alex bursts out laughing, and Max does the same not too long after she starts.  After they both finish laughing, Alex, wiping tears off her face, excuses herself and starts to go get ready for her night out with Casey while Max goes to her text messages. 

               “You doing anything tn?  I got the house to myself if you wanna come over ;)??”  She sets her phone down to walk to the fridge and grabs a drink.  On her way back over to the couch, she picks up and checks her phone to see if she had gotten a message.  Nothing yet.  She tosses her phone onto the couch, grabs the remote and sits down.  As soon as the tv is on, she hears a chime coming from her phone.  She leaves whatever is playing on the tv and picks up her phone.

               “im actually going out with one of my friends tn lol.  maybe later on in the weekend if u can? its been a while ;).”  Max sighs.  She hasn’t seen Casey in a while since Alex has moved in.  But she gets it.  It’s a bros before hoes type thing.

               “I get it lmao.  I’ll have to check ahead to see if I have any work to do,” she knew she wouldn’t have any work, but she likes to play hard to get sometimes, “but I’d love to get together over the weekend.  Have fun tn.”  As if almost on cue, Alex emerges from the bedroom.  She’s got on a pair of blue skinny jeans and a black – no, maybe dark grey – crop top on.  She walks over to the couch with her black heels in her hand.  “Well you look cute.  Are you trying to get with this friend of yours tonight or are you just trying to make him drool?” 

               Alex rolls her eyes.  “First, thank you for the compliment.  I finally went back to the apartment to grab most of my clothes.  Luckily, Devin wasn’t there so I didn’t have to deal with him.”  Max nods.  “Second, no I am not trying to get with my friend, and lastly this friend is a girl.  So politely fuck off.”  She sends a smirk to Max, who just chuckles and throws her hands up in surrender.

               “Alright.  You can still technically get with her, you know.  My first statement still stands, though.  You look hot.”

               Alex raises an eyebrow.  “I thought I looked just cute a few seconds ago.  Now I’m hot?  What made you change your mind?” she teases.  “Is it the heels?  It’s definitely the heels,” she says, as she now sends a wink to her roommate.

               Max sits in her spot on the couch, laughing softly while shaking her head.  Alex stands up and starts to gather what she needs for her escapades and heads for the front door.  Before she leaves, she hears Max yell out, “If you need the bedroom tonight, make sure you text me at least 10 minutes before you get home!”  Alex laughs, yelling out a quick “Okay!” as she closes the front door.  She walks down the driveway, grabs her phone to text Casey to tell her she’s leaving now, and starts her walk to the bar.

               When she’s just around the corner from the bar, Alex texts Casey to see if she’s close.  As she walks up to the front of the bar, she sees her best friend coming from the other direction.  She smiles, walks past the bar and up to Casey.  They both hug each other tightly.

               The two get in without a problem, the bouncer having recognized Casey from her coming to the bar so many times before tonight.  The two sit down at one of the tables in the corner of the bar and their night begins.

NEXT

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~

tags: @maggie-elise13, @elizabethfictionwriting, @lesbian-deadpool, @the-very-tired-gay,  @timelords-13, @tangled-up-in-bad-decisions, @natashaswhitesuit, @its-a-me-mario-hihi, @marvelfansince08love

[mamabearcat]

All Fired Up - Part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Lucy leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers together and stretching her arms above her head.  The faint glow from her laptop was the only light in her bedroom and she was surprised to see how dark it was. Looking at the time in the bottom right corner of her screen she internally groaned - 1.34am. So much for getting an early night. She’d just been so in the zone!

 It was around 8pm when she’d got home from work and sat down at her desk with a cup of coffee; that coffee was now stone cold, the black liquid looking distinctly unappetising. Lucy rubbed her eyes tiredly. Working during the day as an investigative reporter for the Magnolia Times and writing her novel at night was exhausting, but she couldn’t think of any other way around it. She wanted to be a writer full-time, but until she’d sold a couple of manuscripts and made a name for herself, she had to work too. Good thing she had no friends or social life, she joked internally, she really didn’t have time for them.

 She sighed, and picked up the coffee cup, padding off towards her tiny kitchen, stopping on the way to see if Plue was asleep. She walked over to the dog basket tucked behind the sofa, bending down to stroke his furry white puppy ears as he dozed. “Sorry boy”, she whispered, “looks like we missed dinner again.”

 She reached for the jar of dog biscuits and filled his bowl, refreshing his water too. He’d eat when he woke up, she was sure. Now that she thought about it, she was kinda hungry too. Lunch was a long time ago. She tipped the now cold coffee down the sink, leaving the cup to be washed later, and poked her head into her fridge to see if she had anything that she could heat up and eat quickly before heading off to bed. Yes! Leftover Kung Pao chicken from last night! She shoved it into the microwave and went to get changed into cotton sleep shorts and a singlet, her stomach rumbling in anticipation of the ‘ding’ that would announce that her dinner was ready.

 She was just about to take the chicken out of the microwave when she sniffed, noticing a rank smell in her small kitchen. With a small stab of guilt she realised she hadn’t taken out the rubbish for a few days, so with a long-suffering sigh she pulled the plastic bag out of the kitchen bin and knotted it. She’d just take it to the garbage chute at the end of the hall and then she could sit on the sofa guilt free and eat her late dinner before heading off to bed.

 Sliding on her flip flops and pocketing her door key, Lucy pulled her door shut behind her and walked to the end of the hallway, opening the metal chute and dropping the plastic bag down. She yawned, wondering if she could call in sick tomorrow, but she knew Jason wouldn’t buy it. Bills had to be paid, and it wasn’t like she disliked her job.

 Take those arson cases she was investigating at the moment. She shivered a little. They were kinda disturbing – all the fires had started late at night in apartment blocks while the occupants were asleep. All had been young single women, and all had escaped so far thanks to their fire alarms, except for the last one, who was still in intensive care with extensive burns. It was the sort of thing that could creep a girl out, if you let it.  

 A prickling feeling on the back of her neck had her shivering. What was it Mama used to say? ‘Someone walked over my grave…’ Not a comforting thought when you were standing in an empty hallway late at night. She shivered again. Definitely time to go back to her apartment and lock the door.

 She dug her key out of her pocket to open the door, but it was already ajar. Hadn’t she locked it? She was sure she’d pulled it shut behind her, but maybe she was more tired than she’d thought. She pushed open the door and locked it behind her, walking over to her small table near the kitchen to drop her keys in the bowl filled with coins. As she turned back to retrieve her chicken from the microwave, a movement caught her eye.  

 Lucy froze. Her brain worked frantically, screaming at her to run. She’d just seen a shadow in her bedroom, a human sized shadow. She started moving towards the doorway slowly, trying not to make a noise, but it was too late. A man appeared, blocking her exit.

 She tried to remember details that she could pass on to the police later. He was taller than her, maybe a whole head taller. Spiky blond hair. Tattoos like a leopard print around his yellow eyes. Teeth filed to a point. Not like it would be hard to pick him up out of a line up. But she had to get out first.

 “I’ve already called the police”, she said firmly, hoping her bluff would cause him to run and leave her alone.

 The man grinned at her, tilting his head to one side as he gazed at her. “You’re pretty”, he rasped, stepping towards her. “It’s a shame you broke the rules. No one gets to see me. It’s a pity I’ll have to kill you now.” He started towards her, and she backed away, trying desperately to think of a way to get past him to the door, but coming up with nothing. Her apartment was on the seventh floor, it was too high to jump off her balcony, and the fire escape was near the bedroom window.

 A crackling noise came from her bedroom, hard to place for a moment when she was so frightened, but then the flickering light helped her work it out. Fire. He’d started a fire in her room. She would just have to try to run past him. There was no other way. Picking up the lamp, she yanked the cord out of the socket and flung it at him, hoping to sprint past him as he ducked, but he was too fast. A heavy torch swung into the side of her head. Fireworks popped behind her eyes as pain lanced through her skull. Her vision blurred as she fell to the floor near the bedroom door.

 “Sorry girlie. Nothin’ personal”, he grunted. Lucy rolled to her side, struggling to keep from falling unconscious, pushing feebly with her hands to back away from him. He raised the heavy torch again, but before it fell, a white streak shot out from behind the sofa, latching onto the man’s hand. He dropped the torch, blood dripping from the deep bite in his wrist. He snarled, aiming a heavy boot at the small white dog, who dodged, growling and yapping.

 Choking black smoke was filling the room, and sirens sounded in the distance. Lucy struggled to focus. Where was he? Was he gone? She could hear Plue barking, but she couldn’t see. The room was dark with smoke, and she coughed, blood trickling as her head pounded in time with her heart. It was so hot. She needed to get out of the apartment, away from the flames. Her legs hurt. She rolled and tried to drag herself on her forearms towards the front door. The carpet was burning. Plue was still barking. She couldn’t breathe. Was she almost at the door? Her arm reached out, stretching, and then everything went dark.

 Lucy opened her eyes. Erza’s face was grim, but she nodded her thanks. Natsu’s jaw was clenched.

 “Fuck Lucy, I think I need a hug after listening to that”, he growled. Lucy made a weird hiccupping noise, halfway between a laugh and a sob. Natsu poured her a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table and handed it to her. She took it gratefully, drinking it in small sips.

 ‘Do you have anything to add Natsu?” asked Erza.

 “Not really”, said Natsu gruffly, his concerned gaze focused on Lucy. “By the time we arrived on the job, the blaze was well away. Gray and I were on a rescue sweep before the fire crew moved in. I heard a dog barking; the door to the apartment was already ajar. It was too dark to see anything, so I went in low. I found Lucy maybe ten feet away from the entrance, towards the western side of the apartment. She was unconscious when I carried her out. Plue wasn’t. She struggled a little as I moved her down the stairs; I thought she was just disorientated due to smoke inhalation at the time, because she said, ‘You’re not him.’ Makes sense now though.”

 Natsu reached out to scratch Plue’s ears, smiling as Plue whined in delight. “Good boy Plue. You did save Lucy twice, a true ninja pup if ever I saw one.” Lucy giggled tiredly, and Natsu reached up to take the glass from her as she leaned back on the pillows. “Lucy regained consciousness as I did a handover to Wendy and Romeo. She mentioned someone hitting her and setting the fire, so I called Gray to pass on a message to Chief Makarov to get in contact with you about possible arson. That’s it.”

 “Alright, I think I have everything I need for the moment. I’ll be in contact again Ms Heartfilia.” Erza placed the recorder in her bag and stood. Natsu stood also.

 “Erza, can I speak to you for a moment?” said Natsu quietly. They moved towards the doorway as Lucy closed her eyes.

 She was suddenly very very tired. Her arms and legs throbbed, her head ached, and her throat felt raspy, like she’d swallowed razor blades. She turned her head as Natsu sat down again. He looked serious. “Lucy, I don’t want to worry you, but I’ve asked Erza to arrange a police guard on your room until they catch this guy. I’m not leavin’ until they get here.”

 Lucy swallowed. She should probably be more frightened, but now she just felt exhausted. “Okay.”

 The nurse bustled in. “Time for your pain medication Lucy.”

 “Oh, good.” She felt a sting in her arm as the nurse injected the medication into the IV line in her elbow and lay quietly as the nurse completed her obs again and wrote them on her chart. By the time the nurse had finished she was feeling decidedly woozy.

 “Hey Natshu”, she slurred, beckoning him a little closer. He grinned at her unfocused expression, picking a sleeping Plue up off her lap and placing him on his own.

 “What’s up Luce?”

 “You know the worsht thing? The absolute worsht? About thish whole fire?” Natsu shook his head, still grinning.

 Lucy’s eyebrows lowered. “I was really looking forward to eating that chicken. I love Kung Pao chicken. And it was wasted.” Her bottom lip stuck out as she pouted, her eyes blinking sleepily.

 Natsu chuckled, his green eyes twinkling. “Okay Luce, I’ll do you a deal. You hurry up and get better, and as soon as you’re up to it, I’ll take you out for Kung Pao chicken. All you can eat.”

 “Yay.” Lucy tried to raise her arms, but they were too heavy. All of her was too heavy. “It’s a date. Kung pao date.” Her eyes drifted closed.

 She felt a soft squeeze of her hand and she squeezed back. “G’night Natshu.”

 She heard another chuckle. “Sweet dreams Luce.”

Edited to add linky dink to Part 5

[farcryfuckmeup]

In Memoriam Pt. V

Part V of an eight part archive series

Part I: Joseph Seed x Deputy

Part II: John Seed x Deputy

Part III: Jacob Seed x Deputy

Part IV: Faith Seed x Deputy

Part V: Sharky Boshaw x Deputy

Part VI: Nick Rye x Deputy

Part VII: Kim Rye x Deputy

Part VIII: Staci Pratt x Deputy

The first and last day Sharky saw Dep.

Sharky Boshaw x Deputy

Sharky had been rolling through Fall's End, heading to 8-Bit to meet up with Hurk and Jess when he saw the commotion. People were huddled around the outside of Pastor Jerome's church, and he was going slow enough to see that some of them were hugging each other.

He recognized Mary May leaning on the good Pastor, a devasted look on her face. Hudson, the other deputy that had come to Hope County with Rook, was on her knees with her head hanging. Sharky pulled over to the side of the road, careful not to ram into the bus that had been parked in the middle of the street for God knows how long. Mary May had looked over from the church towards Sharky's direction, then pushed herself off the Pastor before making her way over to his car.

"Boshaw! Boshaw!"

"Boshaw! Charlemagne Victor Boshaw right?" A woman was standing on the ground beneath him, one of her hands stuffed into her pocket and the other holding a red camo painted AK-M. Sharky pushed one side of his headphones off his ear so he could hear her better. "I stumbled upon your frequency and you caught my interest. What's going on?"

"Well, if you require some more brevity in your day to day life, you can just call me Sharky. Welcome to the disco inferno, man," He started to go on about how the trailer park was his special place where he could just be himself away from the prying eyes of law enforcement types such as herself. Here is where he was free to unleash his fire and mayhem in a pants-free, no consequence zone. The Deputy hadn't been able to help but look down and make sure Sharky was in face wearing pants. "I have pants on now, yes, but who knows what the next half-hour, forty-five minutes hold." Sharky described his sound system and how Faith's Angels always came running whenever he blasted his music.

"-It sure is fun to melt their faces off." Rook tuned back into Sharky's apparent monologue as he mentioned frying the Angels, and she started to clamber up to the roof where he stood. She reloaded her gun to make sure she wouldn't run out once the Angels came a-knockin'. " If it pisses off the Project, I'm here for it." She'd whistled and a cougar came darting out from the woods, snarling and skidding to a stop on the ground below the deputy.

"Holy shit is that Peaches? Mable's cougar? Damn Dep, as whack as Eden's Gate is, it's even more whack that you're walking around with a cougar." Sharky bounced his eyebrows in surprise before turning back to crank his music up.

Disco music started blaring through the trailer park and Angels came in packs. Usually, he'd have his cousin Hurk with him, but something had happened with his Senior's car so he was stuck at home.

The deputy was taking them out with headshots, Peaches was tearing into their throats, and Sharky was...well Sharky was melting their fucking faces off as promised. Then his system had short-circuited and before he could move to shut them off, Deputy was already taking off for the different switches.

"Cover my ass, I'm going for 'em!" She shouted over the music while booking it. Both Peaches and Sharky took out Peggies that turned to run for her, and he was impressed by how well she maneuvered around the junk Sharky had moved around. Once the music was off and the Angels were all dead, the deputy had climbed back up to the roof, wiping blood splatter off her forehead and onto her forearm. He thought it was hot as hell.

"That's...the last of 'em, Sharky." She held out a dirt and blood-covered hand, offering up a knuckle-bump. Rook had a grin on her face when Sharky punched her fist lightly, then dropped her AK-M on the ground unceremoniously. "We did good."

"What can I say, amigo? You and me, we got chemistry," Sharky started to jump up and down excitedly, holding his shotgun close to his chest. He was in a good mood, he couldn't help but get jiggy. "We're like...we're like a freakin' team!"

"Never thought you'd be friends with a cop, did ya?" Rook had a grin on her face like she was proud they'd done this together. Proud they'd probably pissed off Faith.

Once Mary got closer to the car, Sharky saw just how distressed she'd looked, and his first instinct was to look to where she'd been staring. The church.

"Po-Po!" Sharky didn't think he'd ever hopped out of a car so fast in his life, but he could hear Rook's voice chiding him about not wearing a seatbelt. He suddenly wished he'd worn it once, just for her. There were a lot of things he was wishing he had done as he sprinted for the church, only to end up bumping into the Pastor.

"It's too late, Sharky. She's-she's been up there since last night." The Pastor spoke softly and Sharky felt his chest burn as he realized he'd stopped breathing.

Eden's Gate had sent a message. Crystal clear. Gruesome. Traumatizing. Nobody knew if the Seeds had actually given the order for it to happen since some of the Peggies had been acting out as of late. It didn't matter though. The Peggies had done it in the name of the cult, and the Seeds lead the group of fucking fanatics. That's all the citizens of Hope County cared about.

Dep had gone dark the night before, running around the county raising hell for the cult. Sometimes she liked to go off on her own and take some quiet time to think while she fought the Project. Nobody had thought anything of it. Sharky certainly hadn't. Until now.

Sharky's first thought had been what poor citizen of Fall's End had pissed off Johnson enough to warrant this, but it started to sink in as he recognized who it was.

The deputy was bloodied, bruised, and strung up on the church. She was posted on a cross with barbed wire holding her against the wooden planks. What the cross was attached to, he couldn't tell. He almost couldn't believe it.

"We jus' talked over the radio, she said she was going-going up to Jake'n'Bake's for the evenin'. She had business with the Whitetail, with-with Eli." Sharky took another step forward, nearly stumbling away from Jerome as his vision blurred with tears. He didn't understand how Dep could be gone. She always bounced back from whatever the hell had happened. She'd been caught by Jacob twice, been taken to John's bunker and escaped, and been drugged up by Faith. It had seemed like nothing could keep Rook down.

"There was a broadcast this morning, on the TVs. John Seed said she had died on the cross for our sins, sacrificed so that we could walk through the Gates of Eden." Jerome put a hand on Sharky's shoulder as he sniffled and rubbed his eyes. He looked back up at his best friend, his partner in crime. His Deputy. She had a smirk on her face, or at least it seemed this way, and Sharky felt a swell of pride knowing what it meant. She hadn't gone down without a fight. She'd given the cult as much hell as she could before she'd croaked. It gave Sharky a bit of relief that she hadn't been taken by surprise or given up easily.

Rook looked just as smug about kicking the cult's ass as she did the day he met her, and this time, it was where they said their goodbyes.

"Atta girl, chica."

[peaceisadirtyword]

Secrets IV (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: I wanted to post this yesterday, but I had to rewrite it because I didn’t like what I had done... I’m still not happy with this result, but I don’t know what to change anymore 😂 I tried to fix it at the end, but I don’t know if it worked. 

Thanks for all the messages and the support, you are the best💞 I hope you like this one!

Inspiration: This work was inspired by Griffenholm Confessionals a work by @laketaj24 @akamaiden @ivarsshieldmadien @ivarswickedqueen

Warnings: A bit of smut, Ivar is an asshole again, mentions of sex and violence, the Lothbroks are a warning themselves.

Words: 2966 

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3

gif isn’t mine 

Ivar grabbed your hips, thrusting into you faster and faster, grunting into your ear. You arched your back, moaning loudly and closing your eyes. You were so close... His lips hovered over your neck, and suddenly you felt him biting your neck and gasped. Your nails dig on his shoulders, pulling his body closer to yours. The muscles of his back moved under your fingers. It was delicious. 

You moaned his name clenching your legs around his waist. God, his voice sounded even better when he moaned into your ear.

And then you woke up. 

It was the middle of the night, and you were sweating, panting and tangled in your sheets. Oh fuck. 

You couldn't believe you dreamed with Ivar. 

You unlocked your phone. It was three in the morning, and you didn't feel like going back to sleep. 

Elise was sound asleep, and you couldn't just wake her up to talk to her... And of course you couldn't tell her you had a wet dream with Ivar. 

You got up from your bed, taking a hoodie and your warm, furry boots. It was cold outside, but as hot as you were in that moment, you could have been in shorts in the middle of the North Pole. 

You walked out of the room, putting on your hoodie and closing the door behind you. You really needed to cool down. 

__________________________

"I've been trying to go to bed with her for a month, Ubbe, a fucking month" Hvitserk groaned "And the closest I got was touching her breasts under her shirt... I feel like I'm fifteen again"

"Thank god, finally one smart girl" Ubbe laughed "She probably knows you're an asshole, and that's why she's making it more difficult"

"That's why I have to go with Margrethe at least twice a week... I have my needs and she's not fulfilling them"

"She's not a machine whose only purpose in life is 'fulfilling your needs', Hvitserk"

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

"Could you please shut up?" Ivar groaned from his bed "It's three in the morning, go to sleep"

"I can't sleep, Ivar, I'm horny"

"Ubbe, hold him down while I cut off his dick, let's see if he's horny after that"

"Ivar, no threats past midnight"

"I'm gonna text her" Hvitserk took out his phone, unlocking it. 

"I'm sure she's asleep" Ubbe raised a brow "Like normal people"

Ivar clenched his jaw, looking at the ceiling from his bed. He had spent the last three weeks looking at you. He even had problems to concentrate in Old Norse Mythology, his favorite class, that day you decided to wear your skirt a bit higher than usual. He had noticed the way you licked your lips before answering a question in class, and how you frowned and bit your lip in maths, whenever you didn't understand what the teacher was saying (which was, honestly, every single class). He had noticed your stares, too, and that was what bothered him the most. Surely, you looked at him with pity. Poor little Ivar, who cannot walk. 

He didn't like it. He hated the way you managed to get all his attention by only entering the room. The only time he had felt something like that was with Freydis... But you weren't her, you weren't his beautiful Freydis... He couldn't possibly like you. 

The fact that the last time he saw you you were in bed with his brother, with Hvitserk's hand under your skirt and your disheveled hair and swollen lips, panting and trying to fix your shirt, blushing when he entered the room... Didn't help.

Besides, he had to be focused. He had to help his father with those new alliances he was making in England as his older brother Björn was too busy traveling around southern Europe, Ubbe wasn't too interested in the family business, Hvitserk had his head in other things (usually, between Margrethe's legs) and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd in his opinion was stupid so he wouldn't be really useful. 

The future of his family depended on him, and he needed to have a cleared mind. 

"Don't tell her to come here" Ivar scoffed, turning around in his bed to face the window.

"Why do you hate Y/N so much?" Ubbe seemed amused "She never did anything to you, she was actually really nice"

"That's why, she's too nice, we shouldn't trust her" 

"She is the one who shouldn't trust us" Ubbe replied, sighing. 

__________________________________

"Another party?" You frowned, looking at Elise as she applied some make up "How many parties do they do?"

"They've only done two this year... Hasn't Hvitserk told you?"

"He texted me earlier but I didn't read his message" you shrugged "I think I'm staying here tonight"

"Why?" Elise stopped and looked at you, pouting "You said the same last time and you ended up having the best time ever" she smirked "Come on, Y/N!"

"I just don't feel like partying tonight, and I should study a bit"

"Are you seriously studying on a Friday night?"

You sighed, taking your textbooks out and sitting on your bed. 

"What about Hvitserk?" She insisted "Are you going to leave him alone?" 

"I'm sure he'll survive" you raised a brow.

The truth was, you had been avoiding him since you had that dream with Ivar. You felt really bad, hooking up with one brother and dreaming about fucking the other, and you hated that, whenever Hvitserk kissed you and you closed your eyes, you thought about Ivar. 

"Are you seriously not coming?" asked Elise, biting her lip. 

"No, go and have fun" you smiled "And if Hvitserk asks, just tell him I needed to catch up with maths"

"Okay... Can I borrow your blue top?"

______________________________

23:00. You hadn't been studying for more than an hour and you were already bored as fuck.

You unlocked your phone, sighing, maybe if you took a break...

Y/N, princess, are you coming to the party tonight?♥️

Come on, Y/N, come with me

I don't want to be alone tonight baby :(

I miss you

You bit your lip, feeling like the worst person in the world. How could you be obsessed with his brother when he was that cute with you?

And you had avoided him for days, not ever answering his texts... He had been really nice since you arrived, and you probably should give him some explanation. 

Surely, you'd feel better. 

Sighing, you closed the book, getting up and opening the wardrobe, taking out some hoodie and a pair of jeans. 

Okay, Y/N, you go, you talk to Hvitserk and you leave, you thought while taking off your pajamas and getting dressed. Don't drink.

The night was cold, and you shivered a little while you walked to the house. There was people drinking everywhere, and you honestly couldn't understand how could they be outside with that cold. 

Inside, you started looking for Hvitserk, which would probably be difficult because you could swear that the entire school was there. 

You saw Ubbe with Sigurd and some friends, but no trace of Hvitserk. 

"Y/N!" You heard your name, and turned around to face a very drunk Elise, dressed on your blue top and with a beer on her hand "You came! Let me guess, Hvitserk convinced you" she giggled, winking at you. 

"Something like that, yeah" you smiled "Have you seen him? I'm looking for him but I can't find him"

"I saw him going upstairs" she drunkenly leaned into you so you could hear her over the loud music "But be careful, Ivar is upstairs too"

You smiled and thanked her.

"See you later, have fun" she winked at you and let you go, giggling. 

No one dared to go upstairs, where it was said that the Lothbroks had some rooms for when they brought their flings. There was an empty corridor, with some doors at both sides. You couldn't hear anything, and you weren't going to start opening the doors randomly to try and find Hvitserk. 

Biting your lip, you took out your phone and unlocked it, opening Hvitserk's contact. 

Where are you? 

You waited some minutes, but he didn't reply. He was probably drunk, maybe smoking with Ivar in some room.  Maybe if you walked next to the doors you could hear them...

Finally, behind the last door of the corridor, you heard voices. Ivar's voice. 

He was speaking danish, and he sounded angry, as always. You pressed your ear against the door, trying to find out if he was talking to Hvitserk. 

"Well I don't have time to deal with that, kill him and end of it" Ivar changed to English. 

"It's not that simple, Ivar, if Aelle finds out that we have killed him..." another man, whose voice you didn't recognize, replied him. 

"What is he gonna do? He's just a boy, and he's trying to fuck with us, deal with him, teach Aelle I'm not my father"

"I think that a simple warning would make him learn his lesson"

"Fine, don't kill him, but I want him in the hospital tomorrow morning" 

You froze. What was he talking about? Who was that man? 

I hope this is a fucking prank, you thought, feeling a bit dizzy. 

During the last month, you had heard rumors about the Lothbroks; you'd heard that they were involved with the mafia, that they had deals with very dangerous people, that they trafficked with weapons and drugs... But you didn't really believed them. How could Ubbe and Hvitserk, as nice as they were, be involved with those things? 

The smartest thing would have been going downstairs, go back to the school and sleep, forget about that conversation and try to talk to Hvitserk. 

But no, you couldn't move. 

"Okay, I'll let you know when..."

Then a loud noise startled you. It was like something had fallen down. Immediately, the voices in the room stopped, and you looked down, gasping when you saw that your phone had slipped out of your hoodie's pocket, and was now on the floor. 

You picked it up quickly, but before you could turn around and run away, the door opened and you found yourself face to face with a really angry Ivar, glaring at you.

He grabbed your arm roughly, shoving you inside the room and slamming the door closed. 

Hvitserk wasn't in the room, and the man you had heard talking to Ivar was with his arms crossed and smirking down at you.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ivar yelled at you shoving you against the wall, with a threatening glare. 

"You're the worst spy I've ever seen, love" the man laughed. He was blonde and had long hair, and was even a bit taller than Ivar. 

"I... Was looking for Hvitserk" you tried to escape Ivar's grip. 

He snatched your phone from your shaking hand, ignoring your protests. 

"She wasn't recording" Ivar relaxed a bit, tossing it across the room. 

"Why would I record? I didn't understand half of the things you said" you protested, glaring at him. 

"And why were you listening, hm?" His blue eyes were fixed on yours. 

"Ivar, I have to go, I'll call you later... Go easy on her" the blonde man chuckled, winking at you before disappearing through the door, closing it. 

"I was just looking for Hvitserk, I swear, I didn't mean to..."

"Well he's not here, were your parents too busy ignoring you to teach you that it's really rude to eavesdrop another people's conversation?"

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him.

"You are an asshole"

He smirked at your reaction, finally letting go of your arm. You rubbed your wrist, still glaring at him and looking around the room. 

It looked like a normal room, with a single bed, a wardrobe and a table. On the table there were some papers, photos and... Was that a gun? Your eyes widened, and you stepped back, trying to get to the door. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Ivar sat on the bed, leaving his crutch on the floor next to him. 

"Downstairs, I am going back to the school" 

"Do you really think I'm going to let you go this easy after finding you outside this room and listening to a private conversation?"

You tensed up, eyeing the gun. Ivar followed your eyes and laughed when he saw the gun. 

"Don't worry" he took it, making you flinch "That would be just in case you can't keep your mouth shut" he put in inside one drawer, closing it. 

You relaxed a bit, but still tried to get as far away from him as you could. 

"Ivar, I won't say anything, no one would believe me anyway" you sighed "Just let me go, please"

He sighed, licking his lips and smiling softly.

"Come here, Y/N"

Oh, he knows my name, you thought, sarcastically. 

You approached him slowly. He rolled his eyes impatient, and reached to grab your hoodie and pull you closer to him, making you gasp and put your hands on his shoulders to avoid falling down on top of him. 

You gulped. It was the closest you had been to him, and you couldn't help but blush furiously when you remembered the last dream you had with him. 

His hands went to the back of your knees, making you sit on his lap, straddling him. 

He looked so damn good, with his beautiful eyes lit up with mischief, a smile on his swollen lips and his hands on your waist, keeping you in place.

"My brother told me you wouldn't let him in your bed yet" he whispered, tilting his head to one side "Poor Hvitserk, he's suffering... Don't you feel bad for him?"

"Ivar..."

"Why?" He licked his lips "No one has ever resisted my brother's charms" he said in a mocking tone. 

"It's none of your business" you glared at him.

"What you heard earlier was none of your business either" he pressed his lips together "And you did it anyway..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, just let me go" you tried to get up, but he kept you in place. 

"I need to make sure you won't say anything" he replied, and before you could react, Ivar pressed his forehead against yours "And then you can go back to tease my brother's cock" 

Before you could smack his head away and tell him to fuck off, he kissed you, hard. 

You moaned almost immediately, closing your eyes and kissing him back. You felt him smirk into the kiss and as much as you wanted to whip that smile off of his lips, his mouth pressed against yours felt amazing. 

It was even better than your dream. 

His hands grasped your ass, making you grind against him, as he broke the kiss and his lips descended down your neck, nibbling and sucking at your soft spot. You tried your best to avoid moaning, but it was too much. 

His hands roamed over your body, under your hoodie. He massaged your breasts and smirked when you gasped. 

"Let's see if you let me go a bit more far than my brother" he muttered into your ear, his fingertips traveling down your belly and unbuttoning your jeans. 

He put his hand inside your jeans, making you moan loudly. 

The smartest thing would have been to smack his hand away, get up and walk out of the room. 

But you weren't being really smart that night. 

His fingers put your underwear aside, caressing your sex and pressing down on your clit. You moaned again, closing your eyes and moving your hips against his hand. 

And then he introduced two of his glorious fingers into you.

You gasped, tangling your hands into his hair and biting your lip. Ivar groaned, biting your neck roughly and making you whimper in pain. 

"You're tight..." He growled "Hvitserk would love this"

You wanted to protest, but you couldn't even speak.

His thumb massaged your clit as he curled his fingers, reaching your g-spot and making you cry out. 

"Can you take another one?" He whispered against your lips "Or are you too tight?"

You tensed up when he inserted a third finger into you, stretching your walls. You gasped in pain, but pressed your body closer to him, still moving your hips. 

"Very good, love" he kissed you again, thrusting his fingers inside you slowly, and you moaned in reply. 

You were close. It was too soon, but you had wanted him for too long, and his husky and deep voice whispering into your ear, encouraging you to moan louder and louder for him. 

And just when you were about to cum, legs shaking and walls starting to clench even more, he stopped. 

You gasped, pouting and glaring at him. 

"Promise me you won't say anything" he told you grabbing your face and making you look at him "You will forget about what you heard earlier, won't you?"

"I won't tell anyone" you promised, whining "I will forget everything please just... Let me..." You moved your hips again, making him chuckle.

"What do you want, Y/N?"

"Make me cum" you begged "Please, Ivar..."

"You're so needy" he started thrusting his fingers again, rubbing your clit roughly.

You came moaning his name, arching your back and moving your hips desperately. 

Ivar helped you ride the orgasm, and then he took out his fingers, putting them in his mouth and sucking on them while looking straight into your eyes. 

You blinked, still dizzy, and licked your lips just before he kissed you again. You could taste yourself on his tongue. 

"Good girl, Y/N" he whispered, smiling "Now leave and forget about everything... Hvitserk's in other room, but I think he's not alone so.. Be careful".

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @cbouvier23 @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @ivarslittlebadgirl @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @thisisparadisemylove @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @memememememe1-blog @dreamtheraphy @rravenss @vikingalexthedane @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @thehanneloner @fuckthatfeeling 

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I’ll try to post the next part on Friday, but I can’t promise anything because I’m traveling to Russia and I don’t know if I will have internet connection. If I can’t, I'll post it next Monday. 

Before leaving I’ll post an Ivar x Reader requested by @tephi101 (and I’ll try and post all of your ideas and requests in the following weeks💕)

[ve1vetyoongi]

remember me | kth

chapters:  I, II, III, IV, V

pairing: taehyung x reader

rated: T 

genre: idol!au, baker!tae, french!reader, angst, romance, fluff, eventual smut.

summary: Taehyung wants to be forgotten. Overwhelmed by his life as idol persona V, he longs to just be Kim Taehyung for once. Even if that means forgetting everything he ever knew.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: mentions of blood, strong language, memory loss, eventual smut (chapters will be marked accordingly).

a/n: so this is the first installment of Remember Me! I have been working rlly hard to perfect this fic for a couple of weeks and I’m really glad I can finally share some of it! I should also note that my French is atrocious and if there are any errors I would be grateful for corrections! all the love <3

Moonlight illuminated the diamond ring in Taehyung's palm.

The Parisian alleys looked different at night time. Usually bustling with locals selling fresh fruit and flowers, dragging carts from the harbor or opening their businesses for the day, the cold silence was stark and frightening in comparison. Vintage book stores and home owned cafes lined the passages, dark and vacant due to the late hour. Taehyung had noticed his reflection in the windows as he stumbled past - in his best coat, no less - the blackness behind obscuring any transparency and providing a chilling reminder of his current predicament as he watched his own form heave against the vibrant orange but peeling paint of the small two bedroom apartment complex on the corner.

Taehyung's legs felt weak and he let them buckle, his weight sliding down until his backside rested against the freezing cobblestone. It was cold enough for a jacket in the evening, the summer sun's glorious warmth dissipating like clockwork as night time swept the small French village he found himself in. Even so, beads of sweat laced his hairline, testament to the hatred that scolded every fiber of his being. It felt like he was burning alive.

A plane trip somewhere remote seemed like a good idea to begin with. An opportunity to think things through without the burden of his status following him - or rather people. Here, nobody knew him. Taehyung was confident his idol status was unknown - after all, the phone signal was horrible and stable internet connections were few and far between. He highly doubted any of the few hundred inhabitants would recognize his face from a magazine or a music video. The only music Taehyung had heard during his time here was soft spoken French symphonies, classical opera sometimes, but definitely none of the energetic pop tracks his band was known for.

His band was part of the reason he had packed a bag and jumped on the next plane out of the country. Not his band members per se but rather the responsibility his status required of him. If young Taehyung had known of the great success he would achieve after debut, no doubt he would have been thrilled. Singing, dancing, performing - they were all a part of him, his greatest love and his greatest passion. He had worked diligently, training on no sleep and practicing until his vocal chords were raw with overuse. But now he was here, he wished he was anywhere else.

It is a misconception, he decided, that we could ever be satisfied. He had fame, he had a decent fortune and adoring fans. He had what some would describe as everything, what young Taehyung considered necessary to a life filled with happiness. Most would assume he must want for nothing; that was true to an extent, as he was fortunate enough to not want for anything materialistic, owning a room filled with clothes, two cars and an apartment with enough rooms to house at least two large families comfortably. That didn't stop him wanting, though.

Taehyung stared at the small, velvet box that he twisted nervously between his freezing fingers. He had a girlfriend, too. Soon to be fiance, once he inevitably had to return home for promotions or an obligation listed in his schedule. It was as if his whole life had been mapped out years in advance. Apparently, his company decided marriage was next on the agenda, probably to boost the album sales that had begun to dip as of late.

He loved Joy, he did. Taehyung had been ecstatic when she started returning his shy smiles and longing glances at award shows and music events. He was overjoyed when she agreed to let him take her out for coffee - a small gesture uncommon in an idol's busy schedule but appreciated none the less, an opportunity to spend time listening to her sweet voice and inhaling her vanilla perfume he was desperate for among their hectic conflicting obligations.

Things seemed to move quickly after that, him moving out of the dorm he shared with his band members to buy a place for them to share. A few months after that they adopted a dog and by then it seemed as though the relationship was serious, enough for his company to encourage him to ask for her preferences and size when it came to wedding rings.

He loved Joy. He loved how she dressed, the shampoo she used. He loved how she was soft spoken but stern when need be though never overbearing. He loved her family and how her mom always sent them home made meals to heat up on cold winters nights. Taehyung loved Joy, but not in the way he wanted to. How everyone wanted him to. How he was supposed to.

She was good for him and he knew that. It would be difficult - no, impossible - to find anyone more perfect. Joy was everything most guys wanted in a girlfriend, in a wife, as confirmed by the slaps on the back and contented hums from his friends when he introduced her for the first time. She was good for his image too, his company had made that clear, practically picking the wedding venue before he had even popped the question.

But here he was, running away from his problems, quite literally, sick to his stomach with fear and worry and an indescribable feeling of wanting. Taehyung was the man who had everything yet he still found himself wanting. Wanting for Joy to be happy, just not with him. Wanting to perform, but without the burden of fame. Wanting for people to forget V and to live as Kim Taehyung for a little longer. For he knew that once he boarded that plane home, his face would be headline news.

A dog barked uncontrollably somewhere in the distance, alerting Taehyung of the boots that cracked against the cobblestone, crunching the glass from a broken beer bottle that had rolled from the hands of a drunk slumped in the doorway of one of the only bars the village possessed. Even that was closing for the night, though the cheap neon light, barely fixed to the wall, still glowed and sent the alley into a rich hue of red. It was ominous and out of place amidst the natural beauty of the village and Taehyung picked up on the menacing presence leering over his pathetic form when it was already too late.

The sound of feet became louder, followed by the dog, it's noises turning shrill and whiny as it was kicked to the curb. Black boots came to a halt in front of his crossed knees, one nudging his arm a tad too harshly to be friendly. Taehyung glanced up slowly from beneath the brim of his hat, thankful the shadow cast by the visor concealed the shock evident on his face as he took in his company.

Two broad men ogled down at him, a sickly smile plastered to the mouth of the second, the gold caps on his teeth glinting in the low light. He blinked at them once and then twice, considering their reasons for stopping. Did they think he was drunk?

"What have you got there, young man?" The first one sneered, arms looped around his back but the sheer weight of his boot enough to keep Taehyung in place, unable to stand let alone run. It was then that he followed their gaze, straight to the space where his thighs met, cradling the small black box containing the biggest diamond he was sure they had ever seen in a place like this.

"What do you want?" Taehyung replied gruffly, squaring his shoulders in an attempt at appearing as intimidating as their hot stares. Easier said than done when wearing yellow tinted designer glasses and a pair of fluffy sandals.

"I want to know what a nice boy like you is doing in a place like this," The man's accent was as thick as the prickly stubble lining his jaw as he gestured to the empty blackness around them. "And how you have a ring like that."

Taehyung shoved the box roughly into his coat pocket, shaking himself free from the hold of the tall stranger as he attempted to get to his feet. "It's for my girlfriend." It wasn't a lie, yet he still had to swallow the lump in his throat in order to choke the words out, even to a pair of thugs.

"Where are you going?" The second man spoke for the first time, hand jerking out to push Taehyung's shoulder downwards violently until he returned to his former position on the ground, susceptible to their every whim due to their heightened stance over him.

"I have to be getting home."

"We know you aren't from around here, kid." He bent to his knees, foul breath tainted with beer fanning Taehyung's forehead as he spoke. His voice was louder, raised from the whisper he spoke in before. He wrapped his thick fingers around Taehyung's throat, drawing his words out slowly as if to be extra clear. "Give us the ring and we won't make any trouble."

"No." Taehyung said through gritted teeth, mouth widening as the hand around his windpipe tightened, cutting off his air supply and drawing tears to burn his eyes as he fought for another breath.

"This is your last chance." Taehyung was gasping now, grasping desperately at the sharp elbow of the man until his grip faltered, allowing him to take in the sweet cold oxygen.

He fell to his hands and knees, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth as he heaved shakily. Taehyung kept his eyes trained to the concrete as he slipped off the silver bracelets littering his wrists and the big rings on his fingers, throwing them haphazardly in the direction of the men. He didn't know how much they were worth - the cost of items was not an issue anymore and sometimes he didn't even bother to look when he paid for them - though he was sure it was not as much as the ring pressing against his thigh through the fabric of his jacket. "You can take anything you want. Just not the ring."

"You think I'm stupid boy? This shit ain't worth a dime." Black boots spat vulgarly at the measly pile of silver. "I want the fuckin' good stuff."

"He ain't gonna listen, big guy. Just rough him up a bit for Christ's sake."

At his words, the other nodded his head, cracking his knuckles at what felt like an obscenely loud volume. The words dawned on Taehyung quickly and he brought his knees to his chest, cradling his head in his arms as he prepared for incoming blows from their fists or their steel toes. Isn't the body supposed to go into fight or flight mode when faced with imminent danger?

Not that there would be any point in trying to take flight as the grip of the bigger mans hands beneath his underarms was vice like, so tight he was sure it would bruise. His stubby fingernails pierces Taehyung's sensitive skin, causing him to yelp in surprise as he felt them press purple half moons into his flesh. And he pretty much gave up fighting as soon as he felt the cool serrated metal of a knife pressing against his throat.

He stifled a scream, instantly going slack in the man's grip, abandoning any attempt at escaping. "Please. You can take anything but the ring!"

"Please what, baby boy? You scared or somethin'?" The man with gold teeth came to a halt inches from his face, eyes glinting with amusement at Taehyung's begging.

Something sounded from above, catching the attention of both Taehyung and Gold Teeth. They locked eyes before glancing upwards. A small girl balanced precariously over the railing of the tiny balcony extending from a decorative screen door, the glass propped open by a plant pot overflowing with green ivy, allowing the drapes to blow in the night breeze. She carefully unhooked the silk sheets pinned to a makeshift washing line, folding them neatly over her arm. Her bare feet kick a clothes pin under the guard rail, seemingly unaware when it clattered to the ground below, just missing Taehyung's arm. If she were to just look down...

Gold Teeth apparently comes to the same conclusion, raising a single finger to his lips in warning. Don't move. He mouths. Taehyung swallows thickly, the blade sharp against his adams apple.

Before he could think better of it, he was taking a deep breath and bellowing as loud as he could for help. He didn't have time to form the word more than once, a second help dying on his tongue as he was spun around to face his captor. It was then that he felt a searing pain in his thigh. It was hot to begin with, burning as his skin was pierced by the knife but then it was cold, horribly icy as blood began to trickle from the wound down the sides of his leg.

"What the fuck man! I said rough him up not stab the kid!"

"We need to get out of here," An arm was still tight around Taehyung's chest, the man stumbling backwards when Taehyung's head fell into the crook of his neck as he cried out in agony. He took the opportunity to reach into his pocket, retrieving the black box from a powerless Taehyung. "Lets go! Fucking run!"

They sped off, each thud of their boots sending a sharp pain through Taehyung's head as he desperately gripped the wall for support. He felt numb as he noticed the knife that was still wedged into his leg. The pain unbearable as he ripped it out, discarding the bloodied weapon somewhere behind him. He pressed his hands to the opening in a bid to ease the pain, shock rocking his body as he watched blood spill from between his fingers.

His focus began to blur, the alley spinning in large figure eights as he tried to get a grip on his surroundings to no avail. Taehyung tried to soften his bodies descent to the ground but his palms could not grip the wall in time, leaving bloody smears where they touched the paint. The crack of his skull against the paving was audible, his eyes popping when he felt a giant pressure begin to build in the back of his head, like a balloon filling with helium, ready to burst at any moment.

The pain was so unbearable now that he could barely feel it. It's strange - when the pain was at it's worst it is as if his body went into shut down, protecting him from the agony by making him feel nothing at all.

It was not long before his sight went completely black, leading him on a descent into nothingness. It was like sleep but without the promise of a good dream.

Hands shook his shoulders and Taehyung was sure he caught a glimpse of a face before his lids were too heavy to stay open any longer.

"Monsieur?"

He was too far gone to hear you.

Pain. The searing burn of disinfectant in his wound. A wet cloth cold against his forehead.

"Can you hear me, sir?"

A sweet voice, ringing out in his ears. Another bout of pain as something tight is fastened around his leg.

"I'm so sorry. The pain will be over soon."

The voice again, but tinny with remorse this time. A face, paled with worry but soft and comforting. Welcome among the confusing blur that tinted his vision, dulled his hearing and weighted his body.

You.

And then there was blackness, again.

When Taehyung finally came to, you were curled up in a wicker chair beneath the windowsill, sun illuminating the battered copy of Romeo and Juliet your nose was tucked into. The aged, dog eared pages covered your features but he could tell it was you by the elegantly messy up-do sat on top of your head, wavy pieces of hair escaping the elastic to frame your chin nicely. Come to think of it, the entire room is covered in novels - some classics, some he was yet to hear of - littering every surface. They were not intentionally decorative but something about them was endearing. They were well loved, used, like a perfect bookshop of your own and the sweetness of a dust filled library settled into his senses.

Taehyung pulled his body into a sitting position against the wooden headboard, wincing slightly when his leg resisted the small movement. You noticed his sharp intake of breath, raising your head from the crook of your elbow to check on his state. Upon realizing he was awake, you lower your knees from where they were tucked tightly against your chest, rushing forward to push him back against the mountain of pillows you carefully placed behind his head the day before, book cradled beneath your underarm.

"Lay down, sir." You are unsure why you whisper it, perhaps afraid a louder volume will aggravate the wound located at the back of his head. "You must rest."

"I feel fine - better, at least," Taehyung assures, allowing you to help him under the elbow so he sat comfortably upright. "Thanks to you."

You smile meekly, busying your hands by plumping up the comforter that draped across his bare torso, lifting the corner to inspect his leg. He gazed down at you through lidded eyes, taking in the shredded silken sheet you had fashioned into a tourniquet around the gaping gash in his thigh. The pink fabric was stained in the middle with a messy red splotch, a clear indication of where the knife had entered his leg. You grip his ankle, attempting to lift and bend his knee but abandoning your ministrations all together when he let out a hiss, scrunching his eyes in response to the intense pain that shot up his side.

You tutted sympathetically. "I thought it would be feeling at least a little better by today."

"How long have I been here?"

"Nearly four days, now."

Four days? How had he been out for that long? The last few nights were a blur, flashing through his mind in nightmarish snippets, none of them connecting to form a clear memory. Taehyung figured it was some sort of coping mechanism his body employed in an attempt to stop him reliving whatever excruciating events he had suffered through.

"You had an infection in your leg," You continued, eyeing him carefully as he appeared to lose himself in thought. "But I think you managed to sleep it off. You don't feel feverish now, right?" You jerk forward to place the back of your palm against his damp forehead, relieved when it feels cool to the touch.

"No..I uh - what is your name?" He questions abruptly, suddenly curious about your identity. He had been here for half a week yet this somehow felt like a first introduction, his only prior recollections of you being that night on the balcony and several flashes of you tending to his needs while he was out cold.

"Y/n." You respond simply, smirking when he nods eagerly, bashful after his sudden outburst. "And yours?"

"O-oh yeah, I'm - " Taehyung opens his mouth to form the words, though nothing comes out. The name he was so familiar with felt as though it was at the tip of his tongue yet he couldn't quite let it spill from his lips. He watches you wait patiently for his answer, narrowing your eyes in question when his sentence dies almost as soon as it began. "I don't know."

You nod slowly, index finger tapping against your thumb as you took in his revelation. "You don't have to tell me -"

"No!" He lurches forward quickly, ignoring how his leg groaned in favor of reassuring you. "I want to tell you I just...don't remember."

He watches as your mouth forms a small 'o', realization hitting you all at once. "I guess you hit your head harder than I thought."

Taehyung reaches a shaky hand to graze the nape of his neck, taking in the way his hair matted to his skin with blood, the sticky substance coating the pads of his fingers. The skin was still sensitive and the area still throbbed dully where his skull had connected with the cobblestone. If he closed his eyes and focused he was sure he could still hear the sound of it.

That would explain why he couldn't remember his name - or come to think of it, anything prior to being attacked by a knife and barely anything after that. Was it amnesia? He wasn't sure how this sort of thing worked, never being one to listen in health class. Would this be...permanent?

"If it helps," Your soft words bring him back to the small apartment, allowing him to watch as you flit across the room to his opposite side. He noticed how you practically danced, effortlessly floating on bare feet to the wooden side table pressed against the wall. "You were wearing this when I found you."

You move to sit apprehensively at the foot of the bed frame, hand extending towards him to reveal a small gold ring. Taehyung took it between his fingers, nodding in thanks. You wrapped your arms around your torso and watched curiously as his eyes glazed the scripture engraved on the inner side of the metal band.

Kim Taehyung.

"Kim Taehyung." He repeated out loud this time, slipping the piece of jewelry over his thumb. It felt natural, as though it belonged there. "That must be my name?"

You nod. "Taehyung." Even if it wasn't his name he was sure in that moment he would adopt it, the way your lips curved around the word sending shivers down his spine. "It suits you."

He was suddenly aware of how bare he was, shifting uncomfortably when he noticed his own naked chest. His pants had been discarded to allow you to get a closer look at his stab wound, leaving him only covered by the thin summer lace that swaddled his legs. You noticed his discomfort, grabbing a striped top and a pair of loose fitting white pants from the laundry room behind you and throwing the garments in his direction. He catches them reflexively.

"They were my fathers. Too small now." Taehyung smiles at you properly for the first time at this, eliciting another bout of dull throbs to shoot through his head. "Your things got a little dirty in the scuffle. I washed them for you." A small mirror sat on a tiny dresser, its reflection angled so Taehyung could see the laundry blowing in the summer breeze on the balcony, his shirt and jeans included.

"Thanks." He pulls the shirt over his head, grateful for the modesty it provided him. He looked up at you when it came to his pants, allowing you to assist him when pulling them over his injured thigh, the pain unbearable enough to distract him from the humiliation of needing help to carry out such a simple task.

"Oh - I almost forgot!" You run back into the laundry room, retrieving a black carry bag and the designer coat Taehyung had donned the night you found him on the street. Kicking the door shut with your heel, you fumble in the front pocket of the bag to retrieve a phone. "I hope you don't mind I looked through your stuff, I thought you might have an ID." You shrugged.

"It's fine, really. It's not as if I was around to stop you." He chuckled dryly at his own joke, enjoying the small roll of your eyes. The phone was cold in his palm and he turned it around a couple times as if to search for clues.

"It might help if you look at what is on the phone." You nudge him with your foot and it was his turn to roll his eyes now.

"I knew that." Taehyung huffed, sliding a thumb across the screen and watching as it came to life under his touch, lighting his face with its blue tinted glow. The screen presented a set of numbers, prompting him to input a passcode. He tapped a couple random numbers, hoping he might unlock it by chance or a miracle presented by his fingers muscle memory but apparently even that was having trouble remembering anything. After several failed attempts, a notice displayed on the screen: Iphone locked. Try again in 10 minutes. Taehyung dropped the device in his lap with frustration, pressing his palms to his eyes as he desperately wracked his brain for any set of numbers that might be relevant or familiar but nothing came, leaving him utterly sour with his own brains lack of cooperation.

He flinched when you reached out to rub his forearm, pulling away quickly out of embarrassment when you gauged his reaction to the contact. "I'm sure you will start to remember soon."

"What if I don't?" He pulled his lip between his teeth, nibbling anxiously as he considered the negative outcome. Taehyung knew that although he couldn't remember them he must have a family or friends at least who were worried somewhere, confused as to where he had disappeared to for four days. If he never remembered they would just be left in the unknown forever. Did he have a job? A home?

"You will, I'm sure of it." You say softly, desperate for a way to appease his worries. He was a stranger to you but you couldn't help but feel you knew him somewhat. After all, you had seen him at his very worst across the past few days, at his bed side day and night while he suffered through his fever. Something wrenched in your heart when you realized this was something you couldn't fix for him.

Taehyung felt himself relax with your reassurance. He reached forward to place your hand where it had touched his shoulder before, covering it with his own. His palm was wrapped in a silken scarf that acted as a bandage to cover the scrape attained when removing the knife from his leg. You unwrap it carefully, nodding in satisfaction at the way the skin had begun to heal, a contrast from the red and angry appearance it had possessed to begin with. Threading the scarf around his neck, you tie it in a knot at the base of his throat. Taehyung watches you inquisitively, cocking his head when you were done as if to ask for approval. You nod at your work. "Very à la française." He is surprised by your perfect pronunciation, gauging the accent that taints your English thickly to be local.

"What makes you think I'm not français?"  He catches a glimpse of his appearance in the mirror, making you giggle when he sees that the accessory does indeed make him look like a French stereotype when paired with the blue and white striped shirt he currently donned.

"Your French is awful for one." Taehyung can't deny your statement, simply raising his hands in defeat. "And I've never seen you around here before. Everybody knows everybody here."

It was true. With only a couple hundred inhabitants, everybody seemed to be connected in some way in your town. Each and every individual local shared an uncle or a colleague or a neighbour so visitors stuck out like a sore thumb, drawing attention and becoming a source of gossip among the people. It was summer though so tourists were more frequent these days meaning you had not noticed Taehyung's arrival, that was until he got stabbed outside your apartment and almost died of an infection in your very own bed.

"You got me." He slumped back in surrender. "I assume you know this town better than anyone?"

"I have lived here all my life so I would hope so."

Taehyung scratched his chin. "How about you give me a tour? Might re-jog my memory if I see something familiar?"

You were cautious, not wanting to make a bad situation worse by taking him out before he was ready. He only just seemed to be getting over his fever and you were fearful that his immune system was susceptible to any sort of illness he could pick up out in the open. Then again, the fresh air might do his lungs some good. After all, he had been cooped up in your small one bedroom for half a week now - and so had you as a result, for that matter - so it was unsurprising that he was desperate to get out and find some sense of normality again. "What about your leg?"

Taehyung pulled himself to the edge of the bed, a little weak as he shakily tried to bare weight on his leg. The pain was subsiding a little now though it was still difficult to take more than a few steps before he had to relieve his leg a little by leaning against your wooden clothes cabinet.

"Hold on a second." You noticed his struggle, bending to your knees and fishing under the bed until your hand found the smooth wooden handle of a cane, once belonging to a great uncle - or perhaps it was an aunt, you couldn't remember - before pressing it into his palms. Taehyung admired the decorative lions head that was carved into the base, covered with flaking gold leaf and scratches from years of use and misuse. He pushed away from the wall, leaning into the stick and finding his balance, letting out a breathy laugh when he managed to take a series of steps - albeit slowly - with it's assistance.

"Are you sure? It looks special." You purse your lips in agreement, unable to list the various ancestors who once relied on the cane as Taehyung was now and unable to remember how it came into your possession in the first place. You were thankful it did, though as it was finally being put to use.

"Of course." You slip a light scarf around your shoulders, expecting the afternoon breeze to be chilly as it gradually turned into night. "Until your leg heals."

The apartment was situated on the second storey, exited by a small winding staircase that led to an open piazza, inhabited only by an outdoor chair you favored for reading on summer mornings. It took a while to get down, Taehyung still struggling to find his footing with the cane and needing your support under his elbow to manage the last few steps.

The hustle and bustle hit deliciously when you finally stepped out into the open. The town was alive, children playing on the corner with chalk as colorful as the buildings around them, mothers watching from balconies and open screen windows as they danced in the shadows cast by ornamental street lights. You led him down through the winding alley, under a stone arch and out into the outdoor street market. Taehyung's senses were immediately filled with the smell of cooking crêpes and burgers sizzling on a grill along with the sounds of traders and marketeers shouting praises of their homemade la crème glacée. Men unloaded fresh fruit and vegetables into crates, transported by truck from nearby produce farms and Taehyung swore he had never seen colors so vibrant, so ripe.

"Where are we going?" He asks, struggling to keep up with you as you effortlessly weaved through the throngs of people. The town square opened up into a harbor which stretched for a couple of miles along the front where the town merged with the sea. The water sparkled beneath the bows of holiday yachts and fishing boats and he could not help but gawk at the beauty of it.

"Here." You say, stopping abruptly and almost causing him to walk into your heels as a result. You pat the stone wall before you. The entire harbor was lined with it but this particular spot was at a lower height than the rest allowing you to swing your body over so that your legs dangled over the drop. Taehyung's eyes widened nervously as you did just that, jerking forward to grip your forearm as he envisioned you catapulting down to the small patch of sandy beach below. You simply giggle, gesturing for him to sit next to you. His leg protests when he tries to copy your earlier actions despite his hesitance towards its safety, opting to perch on the edge with his back facing the boats instead.

"This is where we are going." You let out a breath, taking in the view you were all too familiar with yet somehow not tired of. "I come here to think a lot. It's my place."

Taehyung hummed in response, eyes glazing across the tops of houses and chapels that rose from behind one another, towering above you. "I can see why. The view is beautiful - how do you say that in French again?"

"C'est une vue à couper le souffle."

"Yeah, that." He mumbles, scratching the nape of his neck and avoiding your gaze by pretending to be engrossed in the fishermen unloading their days catch.

"That's not the reason I like it, though." You continue. "I like how it is quiet here." It was true. Compared to the hectic town square it was serene, only a few people in sight including yourselves along with some particularly noisy seagulls. "Sometimes I feel smothered in town."

"I understand, I think." Taehyung nibbles his lip. Something twisted inside of him at your words, the feeling you described to him familiar somehow though he couldn't put his finger on why exactly. "Sometimes you have to find peace inside the commotion."

"Right." You agree curtly, eager to change the subject before it became too raw. "Has your memory come back yet?"

He sat in silence for a while, enjoying the cool salty breeze on his skin before he spoke up quietly. "I wish I could remember."

Another bout of silence. A boat bobbed into the calm waters of the harbor, filling the quiet just enough for your words to almost slip past Taehyung had he not been watching you intently. "Perhaps you should just embrace it."

"Embrace my amnesia?"

"I mean, embrace the chance at a fresh start," You explain, finally drawing your attention from a blank point in the distance to stare him straight in the eye. "I don't know anyone in this town who wouldn't give their left leg for a chance to re-invent themselves. Think about it - you could literally be anyone you want to be."

"Anyone?" Taehyung still wasn't convinced, the idea of leaving behind his past still tender, even if he couldn't remember it.

"Anyone!" Your face glowed with a sudden bout of excitement, irises glinting in the evening sun as you pull his hand into your lap. "You could go away from here, become a traveler? Or an artist...you look like an artist."

Taehyung looked out over the charmingly beautiful town, lingering for a second on the rough edges that blended out into the pink and yellow sky. Something felt right about being here - something instinctive.

Your enthusiastic babbling brought him back down. "A florist! I bet you know a thing or two about flowers - unless you forgot about that too.."

"Y/n?" His sudden interruption brought you to an abrupt silence, an indication that you were listening. "Who are you? Like, what do you want to do with your life."

"I mean - I work in a bakery. My fathers bakery."

"A baker, huh?"

"Yeah. Though if I hit my head I would like to become a writer." Taehyung nods, remembering the vast amount of books you hoarded in your apartment. " You know, like a real one. With a library and a writing room."

"You don't need to lose your memory to do that, y/n."

"People around here...we don't get to be writers. Or florists. Or artists."

"Why not?" Taehyung couldn't understand your resentment for a town so gloriously pleasant, so perfectly simplistic.

"Because we are insignificant. We are traders and housewives and bakers." You spat the last word with a bitterness you had become accustomed to.

"I could be a fisherman." Taehyung puffed out his chest to mimic the muscular man unloading crates of seafood below.

"Nuh uh," You wrinkle your nose. "The smell is unbearable."

"Then, I want to stay here." He concluded, crossing his arms with a determination that said his decision was final. "At your bakery."

"You are stubborn," You announce, shaking your head in disbelief. "You could go anywhere and you choose to stay here?"

The sun was dipping into the waves now, almost obscured by the ripples and sea foam. "I feel at home already."