#kicking a tin can around in my brain with my hands in my pockets

[a-killer-obsession]

Brat [Kid x Killer x OC Nina]

Commissioned by @dissvicious

CW: third person pov, intox, recreational drug use, spanking, brat taming, blow job, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, threesome (f/m/m), very light bondage, double penetration (v + a), creampies, multiple orgasms, inappropriate use of devil fruit

WC: 4k

Masterlist || Comissions Info

The Kid Pirates gathered in the dining hall of the Victoria Punk, celebrating an overwhelming win against a ship full of marines who dared to think they could defeat the crew of the great Eustass “Captain” Kid. The raised platform where the commanders usually sat to dine had been cleared off, replaced with various instruments being played by a rotation of crewmates, filling the hall with music ranging from punk rock to heavy metal. Some of the usual dining tables had been cleared as well to make space for dancing and drinking, some crewmates opting to position their chairs in circles for drinking games and conversations, while others sat at the remaining tables to pick at the scraps of the feast or lose their share of the loot in gambling games. The four commanders sat together, passing around a joint and retelling their perspectives from the battle just been.

“Where's pinky?” Heat asked, before taking a hit of the joint and passing it along to Wire.

“Nina?” Killer replied, “she wanted to get the blood off her chainsaw before it got too dry and crusty, she should be out soon.”

“Maybe she finally fucked off,” Kid grumbled. It was no secret that Kid had a stick up his ass ever since Nina and Killer had gotten together. “Good fuckin' riddens.”

“Kid we're in the middle of the fucking ocean,” Killer sighed, “where would she go? Can you at least pretend to like Nina? For me?”

“They're a bratty little friend stealing bitch,” Kid snapped, yanking the joint from Wire's hand and hogging it, “should've kicked her off the ship when I had the chance.”

“Like you could get rid of me if you tried,” Nina teased, pinching the joint from a surprised Kid and making herself comfortable in Killer's lap. Killer wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her, bumping his mask softly against the side of her head in a makeshift version of a kiss. “Sorry I took so long, lion,” Nina cooed, scratching Killer's goatee, “fuckin’ chains were all gunked up with some asshole's brain matter.”

“Do you have to do that PDA shit here?” Kid rolled his eyes, trying and failing to snatch back the joint. Heat sighed and pulled another from the tin he kept in his pocket, handing it to the disgruntled captain.

“I'm literally just sitting,” Nina feigned innocence, taking a long hit of the joint. She held it up by the burning end so Killer could lean forward and slot it through one of the holes in his mask, leaning back as Nina returned the joint to her own lips, clouds of smoke filtering out of several of Killer's mask holes.

“On Killer,” Kid grumbled, “you look like a common whore.”

“First of all, thanks,” Nina said with an exhale of smoke before handing the joint to Heat, having caught up to the others with a nice buzz now, “secondly, would you say the same if I was on Heat's lap?”

“You're not keeping Heat away from my bed,” Kid complained.

“Heat goes to your bed?” Nina laughed, while Wire and Killer stifled their own snorts, “Nice.”

“No that's- that's not my fuckin point!” Kid replied in a fluster, a flush of red on his cheeks.

“Maybe I'm colourblind,” Nina teased, “cos you're lookin real fuckin green there, Kid.”

“You sayin’ I'm jealous?” Kid scoffed, “Of you?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying,” Nina replied confidently, “you just can't stand that Killer wants to spend his time with me.”

“You're fuckin hogging him!” Kid yelled.

“Kid…” Killer warned, exchanging a concerned look with Wire and Heat as they felt the tension in the air rising.

“He's a grown man,” Nina shouted back as she got up, getting ready to fight, “he can do what he wants.”

“And you're a thieving fucking bitch!” Kid barked as he stood too, trying to look intimidating, not that the comparatively tiny woman was at all frightened by him.

“KID!” Killer got up in a hurry, putting himself between the two.

“No, it's not fair!” Kid complained to Killer, “Ever since you two shacked up you spend all your time with them! You haven't fucked me in weeks!”

“Maybe you're just not as special as you thought you were,” Nina replied cruelly. Killer took a deep breath, knowing that the argument had just hit the point of no return.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, bitch?” Kid snapped, trying to get at Nina but held away by Killer, “I'm the future King of Pirates, you're nothing but some discarded bratty bitch playing at pirates!”

“You're about to be King of the Shark Shit, you thick skulled cunt,” she spat back, “when I send you to the fucking seabed!”

“Okay can we calm down and talk about this please?” Killer sighed. It's times like this he wished he wasn't wearing his mask so he could pinch the bridge of his nose where a headache was quickly forming.

“Like this bolts for brains would understand a word I say,” Nina scoffed, “Hey Kid - Me, Killer girlfriend. You, pigheaded cunt. Got it?”

“Fuck you!” Kid screamed. Now Wire and Heat had to get involved as well, struggling to hold the redhead back.

“Bite me!” Nina bit back.

“Stop it, both of you!” Killer yelled, “You're acting like fucking children!”

“Just fucking bang already,” Wire said under his breath, “fucking hell.”

“What did you fucking say?” Kid's head snapped in Wire's direction, the taller man not at all phased by his angry expression. Wire was observant, perhaps the only one who had noticed that it was Killer the captain was jealous of, not Nina.

“Nothing boss,” Wire replied flatly, “just that maybe you and Nina would get along better if you put that energy elsewhere.”

“He's got a point,” Killer hummed. He too had his suspicions about where Kid's feelings really lay, “it would solve the sharing issues…”

“Like this brute could make me cum,” Nina scoffed with a heavy eye roll. Did she want to fuck Kid? Absolutely, but she'd rather fuck her chainsaw than admit her attraction to the goop-brained asshole. “I doubt he even knows where the clit is. Probably why Killer prefers me over you, bet that mouth isn't good for anything except talking shit.”

“Oh I'll make you fuckin’ cum alright,” Kid purred, liking the idea of fucking the attitude out of Nina more and more by the second, “I'll have you screaming my fuckin’ name, just like Kil does.”

“Like I'd let a caveman like you get a taste of me,” Nina teased, turning to wiggle her ass in a seductive manner at Kid, knowing it would rile him up. She wanted to see how far he'd go with his threats. Her hands teased down Killer's front, looking over her shoulder at Kid to challenge him, hands moving possessively over Killer's toned chest as though to say ‘this is mine, what are you gonna do about it?”

“Alright, that's quite enough out of you,” Killer sighed, picking Nina up and throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as she squeaked in protest. He didn't like being used as a pawn in the middle of whatever this weird sexual tension going on between her and Kid was. Killer began walking away with his angry passenger, looking back at Kid who stood in the same spot as he had been, trying to not let it show that Nina's teasing had in fact had an effect on him. “You coming or not?”

“Ey?” Kid replied, confused.

“You got her riled up, you're gonna deal with her,” Killer replied sternly, making Kid forget for a second who the captain was. “She's being a fucking brat because of your inability to keep your mouth shut, and I don't have the energy for that right now, so you're gonna fix it.”

“He's the fucking brat!” Nina shouted, trying to fight her way off Killer's shoulder but unable to compete with his strength.

“You and I both know that's not true, princess,” Killer replied, continuing his warpath to his room. Kid followed behind, not getting to close since Nina was facing him, and she looked like she wanted to claw his eyes out. He followed Killer inside the first mate's private quarters, closing and bolting the door behind them as Killer dumped Nina unceremoniously on the bed, her body bouncing slightly on impact. She scrambled on the mattress like she was making to attack Kid, but Killer quickly grabbed her, pulling her by her ankles until she was bent over his lap.

“You weren't being nice out there,” Killer sighed, yanking down Nina's shorts and panties without warning. She and Kid suddenly went shy as Nina's ass was laid bare, the two of them not looking at each other. “Count.” Killer said plainly as he raised his hand and brought it down on Nina's ass, the clap of skin on skin echoing in the room. Nina whimpered in pain and arousal, Killer knew exactly what he was doing. It was punishment, but it was also foreplay to get her more comfortable with Kid. “Nina,” Killer growled when she didn't reply.

“No!” She spat back. Killer smacked her again, harder this time, leaving an obvious handprint on her soft ass. “One,” she whimpered. She knew better than to say ‘two’, when she hadn't correctly counted the first smack. Killer administered four more, Nina obediently counting each. At five he pushed her off his lap and stood, leaving her confused, and a little under sated. “You usually go to ten?” She asked, disappointed.

“Kid will do the rest,” he explained, gesturing for Kid to take his place on the bed. The captain hesitantly did so, and Nina was immediately bent over his lap by the blonde. She could feel his large erection under her belly, but it only served to flare her aggression. Killer saw the spark of rebellion in her eyes, and knelt in front of her face, running his fingers through her fringe and making a fist to pull it tight, forcing her head up. “Behave,” he warned. Nina furrowed her brows and spat at him, the saliva dripping down his mask. “Ten more it is then, on top of the five you have left. Kid.”

Killer had been careful to make sure Nina's ass was facing Kid's flesh hand, and he brought it down eagerly, his cock twitching as Nina whined. She refused to give in though, and Kid growled at the lack of counting and spanked her twice more. She squirmed and whimpered, but refused to give up on her defiance.

“No good,” Killer clicked his tongue, squeezing Nina's face between his thumb and fingers so her lips pursed, “we'll just have to fuck it out of her, till she's too fucked dumb to have an attitude.”

He grabbed Nina by the hair again and threw her on the bed, pulling off her goggles and shoes, pulling her shorts and panties the rest of the way off, and tearing her shirt open to free her tits. He was being rough, but he knew Nina would use her safe word if he went too far. He wrapped his hand around her neck as he climbed onto the bed, using his other hand to unfasten his sash and binding her hands with it. “Fuck, Kil,” Kid grinned, “you sure the tiny thing can take this sort of treatment?”

“She'll say ‘chainsaw’ if she wants us to stop,” Killer replied, unfastening his pants and pulling his hard cock free. He grabbed Nina by her hair again and pulled her onto all fours, her ass pointed at Kid, who had to hold back a groan as he got his first look at her cunt. “Put that mouth of yours to better use,” Killer instructed, tapping the head of his cock against Nina's firmly closed lips. She scowled up at him, refusing to give him what he wanted. “Nina, open,” he commanded. When she refused still he pinched her nose shut with a frustrated sigh, until she had no choice but to open her mouth to breathe. He forced his cock in her mouth as soon as her lips parted, making her whine, but she accepted her fate and started to bob her head on his cock. She was so addicted to him that once she got that first taste, she couldn't deny him any longer. “See there, Kid?” Killer hummed, “you just have to be firm with her. Quit standing there gawking, play with her cunt or something. You wanna fuck her or not?”

Kid, who had been not so casually palming himself over his pants, eagerly stepped forward, climbing onto the bed and kneeling behind Nina. He admired the red prints on her ass, giving her a softer, more playful slap that made her groan on Killer's cock, before soothing over the flesh with his cool metal hand. He spread her cheeks apart, labia shifting as he did so, exposing the glistening folds between. He ran two fingers down her wet cunt, before giving her no mercy and pushing two thick fingers inside her.

“Fuck!” Nina cried out, pulling off Killer's cock, “fat fucking fingers, be careful!”

“Yer fuckin’ dripping,” Kid gawked, “needy fucking slut.”

“No shit fuckass,” Nina bit back, "you gonna do something about it or not?”

“Keep talking shit and I'll show you fuck ass,” Kid warned, making her pussy squelch as he pumped her with his fingers, enjoying the way her gummy wet walls squeezed around him.

“Bet,” Nina struggled to get out between stifled moans, “I wouldn't even feel your tiny baby carrot fucking me, I've taken shits bigger than your cock.”

“What, is that a challenge?” Kid growled, “Cos I'll fuck yer ass till you can't sit if you don't watch yer fuckin’ mouth. You'll be feeling it for the next three fuckin’ weeks.”

“Then I guess I'm gonna keep talking shit,” Nina spat back, using her bound hands to jack Killer off, not wanting him to feel ignored. Killer would have forced his cock back in her mouth by now, but he wanted to see where this was going.

“You want me to fuck your ass?” Kid asked with a raised brow.

“How else am I gonna take both of you?” Nina replied, like they were both fucking stupid.

“I just assumed we'd spit roast you,” Kid exchanged a questioning look with Killer, who shrugged in response.

“Spit roasting is for pussies,” Nina growled, “do you think I'm a pussy?”

“No..” Kid replied sheepishly.

“Good, so shut the fuck up and fuck me already,” Nina spat, rocking backwards to fuck herself on Kid's fingers since he'd momentarily stopped moving them, “I want my holes filled, get to it, I’m gonna dry up from old age over here.”

“Fuckin brat,” Kid grumbled, pulling his fingers out of Nina and smacking her reddened ass, “Kil, you got lube?”

”Who do you think I am, of course I have lube,” he rolled his eyes under his mask, leaning back to rummage in the top drawer of his side table, “You want plain or strawberry?”

“Plain is fin-” Kid started.

‘Strawberry!” Nina cut him off.

“He didn't ask you, brat!” Kid complained, “Yer getting plain!”

“I wouldn't fight her if I was yo-” Killer began to warn, already grabbing the strawberry.

“I want strawberry!” Nina pouted, “I want a strawberry scented ass!”

“For fucksake,” Kid grumbled, holding out his hand for the lube.

“STRAWBERRY! SCENTED! ASS!” Nina shouted.

“OKAY FINE, FUCKING HELL,” Kid shouted back, “I'LL GIVE YOU YOUR FUCKIN’ FRUIT ASS YOU FUCKIN’ FRUITASS!”

Killer took the opportunity to remove his mask and tie his hair in a low ponytail as Kid squirted a generous amount of lube above Nina's asshole, letting it drip down before spreading it with one finger around the ring of muscle. Killer took his place back in front of Nina, who took his cock back in her mouth with no argument this time, looking up at him with half lidded eyes that closed as Kid sunk a finger inside her. She moaned on Killer's cock as Kid worked her open, and Killer grabbed her short pigtails to guide her movements as she got lost concentrating on Kid's fingers in her asshole as he added a second. His fingers were thick, she was probably stretched enough from just two to take any average man's cock, but Kid was far from average and knew he would need to work more to get her prepared to take him. He wanted to fuck the attitude out of her, but he didn't want to actually hurt her. His metal hand came up underneath her, and he pressed one finger to her clit and used his devil fruit to vibrate the metal, making Nina pull off Killer's cock with a surprised whine. “Fuck, Kid!”

“That's more like it,” he purred, “now we're getting somewhere. Go ahead and scream my name when you cum for me, little spitfire.”

“N-no!” Nina cried out. Kid replied by increasing the intensity of the vibrations and bullying a third finger into her ass, pumping her hard and fast.

“Then I guess you'll just have to not cum, aye?” Killer spoke in a voice that was so low it was almost terrifying, “You can scream your captain's name, or we can leave you here wanting. Maybe I'll just fuck Kid instead. Tie you to the bed and make you watch.”

“No! Please don't stop!” Nina whined, she felt like if they stopped now she might combust, “I'll be good!”

“Scream for me, bitch,” Kid growled, pressing his metal finger hard against her bud.

“Fuck, fuck!” Nina groaned, “cumming, fuck, Kid!” Her whole body shook as she let out a choked roar of a moan, Kid giving Killer a pleased grin as he pulled his fingers from her ass and she all but collapsed against the bed.

“You're not done yet, princess,” Killer purred, “we haven't gotten ours yet.”

“She's blissed out already and she ain't even had a cock yet,” Kid grumbled.

“She can take more, can't you princess?” Killer cooed as he squeezed Nina's face. She gave a weak whine and nodded, and he gave her face a soft appreciative slap. He let her lay back against the bed while the two men undressed, and Nina's eyes flicked between both of them hungrily as she rolled onto her back, thighs rubbing together as her need grew again at the two thick erections presented to her.

“Meow!”

“Oh for fucksake, ZAP!” Killer groaned, chasing the cat around the bedroom.

“Where the fuck did he come from?” Kid growled.

“My son likes to sleep in the laundry basket,” Nina replied matter-of-factly, “Zap! Come to mama!”

“No! Not to mama!” Killer complained, trying to grab the cat as it jumped up on the bed. He scruffed Zap and carried him out of the room, ignoring Nina's sad whines, placing the cat firmly on the hallway floor and shutting the door quickly before Zap could sneak back in. “Fucking cockblock.”

“Aw, Zap doesn't mean it!” Nina replied, before Killer grabbed her and made her giggle by flipping them both so she was laying on top of him. Kid took his queue to climb up on the bed behind her, settling between Killer's legs. Nina bit her lip as she reached between her legs to position Killer's cock, sinking down onto it with a relieved sigh. “Ah, doesn't get any better than that,” Nina grinned.

“We'll see about that,” Kid grunted, fisting himself to coat his cock in lube and applying more to Nina's ass. Killer held her flat against him, keeping her from squirming while Kid lined himself up. Nina squeaked as he pushed the head of his cock against her asshole, only pressing in the tip before pausing as he met resistance.

“Breathe, princess,” Killer soothed, “relax sweetheart, let him in.”

Nina whimpered against Killer's clavicle as Kid slowly pushed in further, attitude entirely forgotten as both her holes were filled and she clawed at the sheets either side of Killer. She let out a low whine as Kid fully seated himself, stilling inside her as she adjusted to the fullness. “Fuck yer tight,” Kid groaned. He made an experimental pull almost all the way out, before pushing back in again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Nina groaned, “yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me!”

“Say no more,” Kid replied, grabbing her hips and giving her a hard thrust that made her scream. Killer exchanged a shit eating grin with the captain over Nina's shoulder as she buried her face against his chest, before he too began to move, making thrusts up into Nina's cunt to match Kid's harsh pace. Nina screamed like a bitch in heat as both men fucked her hard, making Killer grunt as she took out her overstimulation on him, biting and sucking at his chest and leaving marks all over his tan skin. Kid's hands were leaving bruises on Nina's hips as he held them tight, showing no mercy with his pace.

“Good girl,” Killer cooed, “does that feel good? Your holes nice and full now?”

“Yes!” Nina cried, “so- so full! Gonna cum again!”

“Cum for us then, princess,” Killer purred. Nina immediately bit down on his shoulder, making Killer swear as she let out a muffled moan against his skin and clamped down around their cocks. Killer's thighs grew wet with her release as she quivered, but neither man let up, prolonging the orgasm. She went boneless between them, a ragdoll for them to fuck, completely dick drunk and making weak moans.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Kid groaned, “can I cum inside her Kil?”

“Fill her up,” Killer replied with his own grunts, close to cumming as well, “fuck, I'm close.”

“One more from her?” Kid asked.

“Aye,” Killer agreed, the two of them working in tandem to hold back their own peaks while they forced Nina to another. “Come on Nina, one more sweetheart, I know you can do it.”

Nina shook her head against him, but the coil in her stomach was already pulling tight again, she couldn't deny it. She made a surprised gasp as Kid smacked her ass, feeling a rush of electricity through her body that reignited her. “Fuck, do that again,” she moaned. Kid complied, giving her a series of smacks, alternating which cheek he focused on as he kept up his brutal thrusts. “Fuck, fuck, cumming!” She screamed, seeing stars and shaking hard. She had a blissed out smile on her face as she collapsed against Killer, who groaned at her pussy still fluttering around him from the aftershocks of her orgasm and couldn't hold back any longer. He swore as he emptied his balls, and Kid quickly followed suit, giving one last hard thrust before stilling deep inside Nina's ass and painting her walls white.

“Fucking hell,” Kid panted as he pulled his cock out and collapsed next to them.

“Say thank you, princess,” Killer forced out between hard breaths.

“Th-thank you,” Nina stuttered, half asleep.

“Maybe yer not so bad,” Kid teased, patting Nina's bare ass playfully as he groaned at his stiff joints and climbed out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Nina asked in a sad tone that surprised both men.

“Oh I- I thought we were done here,” Kid replied unsurely.

“Go get a wet cloth from my bathroom, then come back,” Killer told him, “you're staying with us.”

“You sure?” Kid asked, eyes flicking between them as Nina rolled off Killer, who quickly untied her wrists and threw his sash to the floor.

“We're sure,” she confirmed, reaching out to hold his hand, “stay.”

“Okay,” Kid replied softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, “I'll stay.”

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[kumachii]

[21:45]

✎ pairing. keisuke baji × fem!reader [no use of y/n]

✎ warnings. swearing, light mention of fighting, blood, surgeries, etc.

✎ notes. takes place right after the august 3rd battle. i was working on an original character when this came into existence. didn't know how an oc would be received so went with the safer choice (・３・) she is called 'ruri' in my head but feel free to imagine your oc/self. luv ya!

It wasn't uncommon for her to dwindle in front of the apartment complex. Or, it wasn't while daylight still graced the streets of Shibuya. At night though, everything became eerily quiet and — be it her so-called masochistic delight of devouring horror movies knowing she could kiss sleep goodbye — every squeak or flickering shadow concocted wild imaginations in her brain.

The swing went back and forth, the rustic joints creaking and clanging. Her feet kicked up dirt, formerly white converses now painted yellow. She checked her wristwatch once again, sighing as another minute ticked by. Still no him.

An old tin box sloppily painted white sat on the seat next to hers, a red cross marked on it to designate its purpose. She couldn't possibly not get ticked off. He was supposed to be there a whole hour ago.

Even then, the worry outweighed ire. Every faint click of the watch's hands added another knot to her wrenching gut. How she wished he would just stop getting into these stupid skirmishes. Stop picking fights at the slightest inconvenience. Stop getting bloodied up all the damn time even if he did emerge victorious.

But normal was just not his style.

No, Baji was loud, wild and somewhere crossed between self assured and entirely too overconfident. Because she'd tell anyone like she told him a million times, one day he would get into a battle he couldn't win. And he would reassure her with a pointy grin, that notion was apparently impossible.

Perhaps it was that rambunctious outlook that both knew was dangerously naive, mixed with limitless loyalty that drove her mad.

And if he was relentlessly capable of anything, it was keeping his word. To his mother who was his greatest hero, to his friends that he adored more than anything and even to outsiders living in his neighborhood who he'd help around without uttering a word — in their eyes he could do no wrong. So, if being the orbit on which all the people in his life functioned kept him from fulfilling just one promise, one made to her, could she really be mad?

The generous rumble of an exhaust stirred her from her thoughts. She had been staring at the one stray cat who frequented the torn down park ad much as they did. The bike stopped at the sidewalk, a little ways away under the streetlight as the engine died down.

"Hey, little guy", Baji greeted the before he acknowledged her. Of course he did. Rolling her eyes, she kicked the ground once again, refusing to acknowledge him or the bruising wound on his somewhat pleasant face.

But her momentary resolve shattered when the cat purred, rubbing its face into the brunette's hand as if she didn't spend the entirety of her pocket money buying treats for him. Glaring at the feline, she cleared her throat in a manner demanding attention.

"Hey", Baji flashed her a lopsided smile, bit exaggerated but genuine. Then there was something else, too — forced down exhaustion evident in his dilated pupils.

She deadpanned at his lacking response. "Hey? It's what...", she made a display of eyeing her wrist, "Almost ten at night. You said you'd be here at an hour tops and all you can say is 'hey'?"

Without waiting for a retort, one that was bound to come, she plucked the first aid kit from the swing, retrieving a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a packet of cotton swabs. She was almost running out from the times she'd cleaned his wounds that month alone.

"In my defense, I was going to make it on time but then Draken decided he wasn't havin it and got himself landed in the E.R. Fuck, you should've seen the paramedics, they were running around like headless chickens trying to stop the bleeding from a stab", he gruffed out.

When he did speak though, she almost tripped over her own feet.

At that moment, whether her blown wide eyes were comical or not, she hadn't the time to ponder. "I— What...", words failed her, coming out in incompressible jumbles. "He got stabbed?! Is he okay?"

"Out of danger", Baji revealed with a huff and her heart finally allowed blood to return to her entire body.

He didn’t explain any further, neither did she probe. It wasn't that she was unfamiliar with the people he called friends. She knew them quite well, the upper echelon of Toman. If anything, the daunting yet kind and sensible boy that was Draken seemed the least likely to end up at the hospital besides perhaps Mitsuya.

She had known Baji for a long time, since they were in kindergarten. And even if memories were a bit blurry from back then, she knew the ceaseless ball of energy that he was, needed some form of outlet. It was at age five he settled on karate which later became his greatest strength behind creating a gang. That also meant she knew about the still juvenile group since it's founding days. And led by these ambitious boys, they were not the bunch who picked fights that ended in bloodbath or fatalities.

Not without a reason far too complicated than just plain fistfight.

With her heart racing still, she worked on his scrapes silently, the furball they'd mutually adopted as their child rubbing up on her left leg.

Her mind was running a mile per minute, still trying to process the little of information revealed to her. He insisted on not telling any more than necessary so as to keep her away from his business and consequently the multitude of people having some vendetta against him.

Thinking back now, she cringed at her earlier display of complete insensitivity. Even without asking first she had jumped to conclusions. Her biggest flaw, though one of many.

"There you go. Don't put soap on them for at least a day. You'll end up agitating the gashes."

With a lump of white hot guilt and — she supposed that's what it was — fear of several what-ifs rattling inside her head, she finally stepped away from standing between his parted legs where he sat on the swing, hands dropping from having tilted his face upwards.

God, what a moron, she thought to herself. Here she was lamenting her rotten fate of getting stood up while he was there in a fight that had equal chances of turning south in anyone's case, sitting through one of his close friend's surgery while said friend grazed death's door.

Caught up in her mental berating, she missed him calling out her name, the syllables hanging in the quiet summer night. It wasn't until he had grasped both her wrists, tugging her closer until she resumed her spot — pressed against him and almost unbearably close. All it took was his lips pressing again her opened palms with all the gentleness he could muster, the smell of chemical making his nose scrunch up, for her to run blank.

"What'cha thinking?" His question was paired with a low hum.

Any other day and she would've lost it, scrambling to mask her reddening face. But not that day. And while her doubts often became her most formidable enemy, she couldn't help acknowledge the reality to them.

She had been bitching about the missed opportunity of wearing a pretty yukata to the festival, having stayed back in school to finish her tutoring. And he was out god knew where, constantly putting himself in situations that now even had the possibility of death, it seemed.

That was where their lives diverged. Because at the end of the day, his unrestrained freedom did not apply to her mundane life. He belonged in loud ruckus, thriving off of chaos and she? She was more than fine with the serenity of daily life as it was, home to school and back. In a sense, she had always known that. But now as they grew older, the fault between them also stretched on.

Sooner or later, they'd stray too far. And while he had the firm belief that they would get back together like usual, she had her doubts.

Uncertainty had never been a friend, but always an unwilling companion. In a world where they were still too young, too inexperienced about real life, what would they even become? Years from now, where would they be? For someone who hadn't known life without Baji Keisuke, what would she do if he ever stopped being that one constant she could always rely on?

"I'm... sorry", she settled on that, a pathetic attempt to get the raging storm of emotions flitting past her across.

His brows furrowed slightly and that was the last thing she noticed before the glassy filter of tears veiled her gaze. She felt his arms wrapping around her waist. This time she melted into the embrace, gripping his shoulders tight as if it were the last link tethering her to the universe as she knew it.

It was exactly that, though, wasn't it?

"Let's just stay like this for a while", came his muffled voice, face pressed against her uniform blazer.

He didn't mention his increasingly dampening shoulder. She didn’t bring up the angry red surrounding his eyes.

For now, this was okay. Not perfect but as long as they were there in the present, it didn't have be ideal. Maybe they could delude themselves into believing this false consistency for a little while longer.

[t0th3-ark]

More Than Metal

Gavin Reed x Android!Reader: Part 2

Warnings: cursing, guns, alcohol use, crime scene, blood

Part 1

Analyzing Sample…

[Analysis Complete]

Sample Contains:

Thirium 310: 96%

Blood: 2%

Human Plasma: 2%

Analyzing Thirium…

Model ID - AP400

Serial Number: #495 345 12-8

"The fuck are you doing?" Gavin interjects. (Y/N) looks over at him as she kneels at the puddle of blue blood, fingers to her lips. VN opens her mouth to speak but Gavin holds up a hand. "Y'know what? I don't wanna know." Reed scoffs walking into another room.

○ Follow Detective Reed

□ Contiune to Investigate

● Follow Detective Reed

(Y/N) stands, following Gavin from a distance. Gavin glances around the blood stained apartment. "This is so gruesome shit." He mutters. VN tilts her head.

○ Question tactics

□ Urge him to continue working

◇ Leave to investigate in another room

X Continue to follow

■ Urge him to continue working

"Detective, I believe we should collect evidence. You seem distracted." (Y/N) states, hands behind her back. Gavin glares at the android. "You don't get to order me around, plastic." He grits.

○ Question tactics

◇ Leave to investigate another room

X Contiune to follow

X Contiune to follow

(Y/N) remains silent LED flashing blue. Gavin shakes his head kneeling down to inspect the floor where the victim was killed. (Y/N) stares at the blood splatter on the walls.

Analyzing Splatter…

[Information Acquired]

WEAPON: Kitchen knife

ANGLE: 43.2°

VN blinks. "The deviant was an AP400 model, a caretaker. It lived here with it's owners." Gavin looks up at (Y/N). "And how do you know that?" He ponders aloud. "I analyzed a sample of thiruim, there," She says, pointing to the floor. Gavin cringes. "That's fuckin' gross." He murmers. "The deviant was injured. It's blood was mixed with the victims, meaning, it couldn't have gotten far." (Y/N) explains. "We should proceed to the station to interrogate the survivors." She says. "I thought you said we needed to collect evidence." Gavin says, crossing his arms as he stands. "We have gathered enough information from this location." (Y/N) concludes. Gavin laughs, mockingly. "Look at you, smarty pants." Gavin teases, getting a confused blank expression from the android. "Never-fucking-mind. Let's go, dipshit." Gavin growls, walking out. (Y/N) hesitates, wanting to ask him if he was angry with her. That didn't matter. Why did she care?

Gavin walks through the automatic doors of the DPD. He heads by his terminal throwing his keys on the desktop. Hank watches the two walk back in. "Hello again, (Y/N)." Connor says, nodding at her. He smiled. VN nods at him. Androids weren't programmed to smile. Where they? "Good afternoon, Connor." She says, flatly. Hank snorts, grabbing her attention. "I fail to see what is humorous about our interaction, Lieutenant." She says, eyeing Anderson. Hank raises his hands as if he were surrendering, turning back to his computer. "Fuckin' androids." He mutters. "Would you hurry the fuck up? I don't have all day." Gavin says, impatiently tapping is foot on the floor. "Yes, detective." (Y/N) obeys. Connor's LED swirls yellow as he watches her go. "I have an unknown feeling." Connor says to Hank. "I think you may be worried, kiddo." Hank says, frowning. "And you wanna know somethin'?" Hank says, leaning towards Connor. "Me too."

Gavin huffs, slumping down in his desk chair, spinning around mindlessly. (Y/N) watches him, eyes following him as he spins. Gavin stops, glaring at her. "What did I say about the fuckin' staring, tin can?" He complains. "I apologize." VN says, looking somewhere else for his comfort. "Fuck it." Gavin announces. "I'm going home." He says, getting up from his chair. "I beleive we still have work to do, detective." VN says, her LED swirling blue. "Yeah well, Fowler can bitch at me tomorrow about it." He says, walking past her. VN quickly follows him. "I do not believe it is wise to leave your work unfinished." She says, referring to the stack of paperwork on his desk. She watches him swipe his card to clock out. He doesn't say away but holds his middle fingers up at her, with a strange expression. VN watches him exit. Her LED swirls yellow.

○ Follow Detective Reed

□ Stay at the Precinct

● Follow Detective Reed

(Y/N) walks through the automatic doors, following Gavin out to his car. Gavin glances over his shoulder, seeing her following him. He groans, stopping at his car. "What do you want?" He demands, unlocking his car. She stands on the other side of his car.

"I was assigned to help and assist you. I do not think leaving work to drink is a good idea, so I will be going with you to the bar." VN says, opening the car door and getting inside. Gavin stands there, mouth open. "Wait a damn minute." He protests, bending down to look at her sitting in the car. "You ain't doing shit! Get the fuck out." He orders. "I'm afriad I cannot comply, sir. According to your current physical and mental health, drinking alone could put you in danger." VN says, maintaining eyecontact. "Get out." Gavin says again. He wants to pull out his gun and shoot her brains out but something in him doesn't have the strength too. He's tired.

Yet another silent drive. Gavin's radio is turned up on a dangerously high level. VN isn't bothered but is worried about the effect on her partners ears. She concludes it is best to not comment, due to his recent outbursts. Gavin pulls up to Jimmy's, a local bar, and parks his car. Gavin opens the car door, putting his keys in his jacket. VN exits after locking the car doors. She walks behind the detective, deducting that he didn't want her by his side. She notices the package of cigarettes sticking out of his pocket. She assumes he has a lighter as well, somewhere on his person. 

Scanning...

[Jacket Scan Complete]

FELINE HAIR: 

• Burmese

• Chartreux

OTHER:

• Zippo Lighter (Sliver) 

    • Engraving: "Love you little bro. -Elijah"

• Cigarettes (Marlboro 12ct.)

• Car Keys (To: Camaro, Model: 2023)

• Stain - Front: Coffee (2 days old)

• Stain - Collar: Lacrimation from tear ducts

VN stops analyzing as they enter the bar. Gavin exhales, pretending he isn't being followed by a tin can. (Y/N) looks around. It's dimly lit, quiet. Music plays and it smells of alcohol, cigarettes, and cigars. She puts her hands behind her back, following Gavin to the bar. He pulls out a stool, hopping on top. A bartender, assumed to be Jimmy, saunters over to her partner. VN stands close to a wall, analyzing every detail of the bar. "Hey, kid." Jimmy says to Gavin. VN attempts to give Gavin privacy with the bartender but can't exactly turn off her sensors. " 'Sup." Gavin sighs, leaning against the bar. Jimmy chuckles, glancing at the out of place android against the wall. "That yours?" He teases, gesturing to (Y/N). "Don't give me that, J." Gavin scoffs. Jimmy laughs, boisterously. Gavin can't help but smile a little. Jimmy was pretty cool and he gave great philosophical advice. 

"Watcha want to drink, son?" Jimmy asks, turning to the wall of drinks. "Brandy on the rocks." Gavin says, pulling out his box of cigarettes and his lighter. Jimmy sighs. "Rough day, huh." He says, pouring his drink. (Y/N) watches carefully. She started to get an unknown sensation across multiple sensors in her being. She scanned herself for malfunction or errors. Nothing. VN tilts her head to herself. What was that sensation? It wasn't an error or a malfunction? Possibly a glitch. She shakes it off watching the detective. The sensation returns. She attempts to flush her systems, but it remains. She ignores it, concluding it was a glitch. "You can say that again." Gavin says. Jimmy slides him his drink watching him closely. "You look tired, kiddo." Jimmy comments, leaning against the other side of the countertop. Gavin chuckles. "Everyone says that. I'm fine, J." Gavin lies. "C'mon, Gavin. Talk to me. It's a slow night." Jimmy pries. Gavin sighs, lighting the cigarette between his fingers. He raises it to his lips, taking a drag. He looks down at his drink.

VN glances around the room, unintentionally listening. The sensation had left. She wasn't alive. She couldn't feel. It was a simple glitch. "It's been hard without him." Gavin says, taking a sip of his brandy. This peaks VN's intrest. "I know. You seem to care about him a lot." Jimmy responds. He must know more than she knows about the situation. Gavin glances at the android that accompanied him, downing his drink. Jimmy sighs again. "Is that thing givin' you trouble?" He asks, grabbing the glass to refill it. Gavin takes another drag of his cigarette. "Yeah it is. Fuckin' Fowler assigned it to me or whatever." Gavin says, words full of spite. VN feels the sensation return. Her LED blinks yellow.

Analyzing...

[Analysis Complete]

Malfunction?

[Access Denied]

(Y/N) blinks, LED pulsing red. She straightens her posture, ignoring the sensation, yet again. Jimmy nods, following Gavin's story. Gavin takes a swig of his drink again. "You two get along?" Jimmy asks, tapping on the counter behind him. "Fuck no." Gavin snickers. Jimmy smiles, almost sadly. "The things been following me around like a dog. Gets on my fuckin' nerves." Gavin sighs, finishing his second glass. (Y/N) notes his blood alcohol content. Jimmy grins at the detective. "Maybe she's there to help you. Ever thought about it that way?" J asks, grabbing his empty glass again, pausing. "Oh, that's utter bullshit. Don't side with them, Jimmy." Gavin spits, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bar. "I'm only sayin', maybe it's there for a reason, kid. You look like shit. It could help you, y'know." Jimmy shrugs, filling his glass again. Gavin snorts, feeling the buzz kick it. "Thanks, J. How nice." Gavin teases. "Give it a chance, Gav." Jimmy pushes. "No way in hell am I trusting a piece of plastic." Gavin argues, gladly accepting his third drink. (Y/N) decides to step in. "Detective," She starts. "Fuck off." Gavin grits, waving his hand at her. Jimmy watches the two. "I beleive you've had enough." She states, hands behind her back still. "This is only my third so fuck off." Gavin growls. He usually had a better alcohol tolerance but not today.

"Your BAC is nine point two and increasing. This can impair your judgement and functioning." (Y/N) says. Gavin laughs. "You're not my babysitter, tin can." He says, lifting the glass to his lips. VN snatches the glass out of his hand, putting it on the bar. "What the fuck?" Gavin hollers, clambering out of his chair, almost falling in the process. "The alcohol had already taken affect, impairing your vital judgment. It is time to leave, sir." (Y/N) says, sternly. Her LED blinks yellow, analyzing his next move. Gavin reaches for his gun, which VN anticipated. She reaches forwards, knocking the gun out of his hands. "Hey, hey, hey!" Jimmy shouts. "No blood on my floor!" He says. A few people have formed a crowd around Gavin and the android. "Detective, we are leaving." (Y/N) says, picking his gun off the floor and pocketing it. "You fuckin' piece of shit," Gavin slurs. "You think you came come in and- and fuckin' steal my job, huh?" He raises his voice, grabbing her by her uniform again. (Y/N) looks down at him. She notes the pain, evident behind is glassy eyes.

○ Let Detective Reed continue 

□ Render Detective Reed unconscious

■ Render Detective Reed unconscious

"Detective, I apologize, but this is for your own good." She says, gaining a confused look from Gavin. She presses her fingers into the point where his neck and shoulder meet. Gavin crumbles to the ground, (Y/N) catching him before he hits the ground. VN wraps his limp arm over her shoulders, hoisting him up. "I apologize, sir." She says to Jimmy. "Eh, don't worry about it. His drinks were on the house anyway." Jimmy says, waving her off. "Take care of him, okay?" Jimmy says. (Y/N)'s thiruim pump falters for a moment, catching her off guard. She scans herself again, not finding anything wrong. The crowd had disappeared, seeing that there would be no fight. She gives Jimmy at curt nod before bascially dragged her partner out the door.

(Y/N) had successfully put Gavin in the passenger seat, starting his car. She pulls out into the road. She had located the detective's apartment, following the coordinates. Once she arrives, Gavin is still unconscious. She drags him out of the car. It would be easier to carry him in her arms, so she does. Walking up several flights of stairs, she reaches his apartment door. She glances down at the keys on his key ring and then at the lock, analyzing the differnt key prongs and the internal structure of the lock. She selects the correct key, unlocking the door. Several cats, greet her at the door. A Burmese and a Chartreux cat. They purr and meow at her as she closes the door. (Y/N) scans the apartment. It's quite messy. The trash seems as if it hasn't been taken out in weeks, pizza boxes litter the counter and differnt files and papers litter the living room. (Y/N) contiunes, walking into Gavin's bedroom. Clothes cover the floor, along with an unmade bed. She sets her partner in the bed. She surveys the room again, finding the comforter on the ground. She nods to herself.

(Y/N) carefully removes his jacket, hanging it on a hook behind his bedroom door. She covers him with the comforter, studying him. He seems peaceful. His face, relaxed. No tension is held between is eyebrows. She tilts her head, reaching towards his face. There it is. The strange sensation in her sensors. She gently brushes his hair out of his eyes, almost mesmerized by how peaceful he is, compared to when he's consious. (Y/N) quickly pulls away as he rolls over in the bed, grunting in his sleep. She looks around his room again. It was very unorganized. She walks over to his half empty dresser, pushing the folded clothes back in order. She closes the drawers, gently. VN then, straightens the differnt colognes and pictures frames on his dresser. One catches her eyes. A picture of, what she assumes is Gavin as a teen, and another male. She tilts her head, the male seeming familiar. She straightens the frame, ignoring it.

VN picks up the dirty clothes off the floor, placing them in the hamper in the corner of Gavin's room. She could see the floor now. She turns off the lamp on his nightstand, straightening the things on top if it as well. She looks around the mostly clean room, leaving Gavin's room. She then drags the overflowing laundry basket out of his room. She closes the door behind her, seeing his cats staring at her. She looks down at the Burmese one as it rubs against her leg. She watches them pad off into another room. (Y/N) looks down the short hallway seeing the bathroom. She peeks inside. It was spotless. Strange. She walks into an empty room, what she assumes to be a guest room. It holds nothing. She walks out, going back to the main living room. Papers, magazines, files, newspapers. You name it. She grabs the file box in the couch, picking up all the papers and files, organizing them alphabetically. It took all but thirty minutes an twenty seconds. She puts the file box beside the couch. She puts all of the magazines and newspapers neatly on the coffee table. She picks up all of the empty and half empty coffee mugs, placing them softly in the sink. She would load his dishwasher later. 

(Y/N) straightens his crooked TV on the wall. She then proceeds to organize his movies by type, then alphabetically. The living room was finished. She clicks on the lamp, closing the curtains. The sun was setting outside. It was six twenty-two. Androids didn't need sleep but she decided that when she finishes she would enter low-power mode to pass the time. She heads to the kitchen. It was filthy. (Y/N)'s LED circles blue. She grabs all of the dishes that were dirty and puts them neatly in the dishwasher. She puts the soap in, turning it on. She grabs a trash bag, placing the numerous empty pizza boxes inside. She empties the trash putting the bags by the front door. The cats come back in, hearing her working. "Hello." (Y/N) says, kneeling beside the cats. She looks at their collars. Coco and Bean. Who knew the detective liked cats, owned them, and gave them matching names. (Y/N) stands, beginning to wipe down the countertops, that were dusty and covering in crumbs. She puts the leftover pizza that wasn't old or moldy in the almost empty refrigerator. She rolls up her jacket sleeves disinfecting the grime in the sink. She notices his landlines blinking on the counter. She lets the chemical sit in the sink, walking over to the phone. Twenty new messages from the same number with the name Eli. She concludes it would be best to leave them be. 

(Y/N) had loaded the washing machine with Gavin's dirty clothes. She had taken the towel from the dryer and folded them neatly, placing them in the linen closet. She rinses the sink next. Spotless. The apartment looked organized and neat. Nothing like the detective from the outside. It was currently twelve forty three. She blinks, hearing the dishwasher stop. She unloads it putting the coffe mugs, plates and utensils back in their respective places. Ealier, she had hauled the trash down to the dumpster behind the apartment complex. She was satisfied with the outcome.

(Y/N) completed all of the detective's laundry leaving it neatly folded ontop of the washer and dryer. She didn't want to disturb his slumber by putting away his clothes. She was finished. VN puts the detective's gun in a drawee in the kitchen. She walks over to the couch, sitting down. The cats jumps up, one testing in her lap and the other lying down beside her. She was interested in why the cats liked her so much. She'd have to research it later. She decided to enter low-power mode.

Low-Power Mode Loading...

[Entering Low-Power Mode]

3...

2...

1...

-LOW-POWER MODE ON-

taglist

@sweet-sage-tea, @bts17army

[shushiyuii]

Adopt a Mortal

 @smogs-0 Oh Smoggy~ Your angst is here, and only you can decide if there will be a part 2 or not~

Warnings: Zombies (which means this will contain mentions of death, injury, death and maybe other subjects. Be advised). Swearing. Apocalypse. 

Words: 1.5K+

It’s been 3 weeks since the outbreak.

He didn’t know how he made it so far, he’s barely escaped any encounters with those monsters. Zombies as the others call them, which he honestly called bullshit on.

Not to mention but food had almost become rare at this point, so many had taken it for granted and themselves, hoping to be the only ones to survive. But a majority of the population was already gone, including his own parents so no doubt that food went somewhere.

His own group was fucked up, he ended up with them by chance. They almost killed him, to begin with, but decided they could use his agility and slim figure to their advantage of tight spaces and stuff. Which he hated but it was the only chance he had at survival.

He was now on his own in a world of Zombies. Trust nobody.

…

It’s been 3 months since the outbreak.

He was shoved to the floor, kicked by another member. “Little shit! You’re just dead weight!”, “It’d be better if we left him for dead”.

They took away his belongings, leaving him unarmed. He ran away and as he did, he heard their screams. Zombies were coming and his ‘group’ just died like complete idiots. His arms covered his stomach as he limped in pain, this was going to be a difficult situation to get out of.

…

He slammed his hand over his mouth, trying to be as silent as possible as a couple of Zombies wandered around aimlessly, hoping to catch their next piece of delicious prey. if he were to get into one of their sights. He’d be dead in an instant.

He was unarmed as stupid as it was.

Whatever he didn’t want to die here.

…

 …

One month since the outbreak.

Hunger was all he felt for the longest time, he wondered. He didn’t remember who he was. Not that he cared, he had no control. He only wanted to eat, hunt. His reasoning. The thought of meat making in growl in excitement.

That all changed when he followed a horde of Zombies towards the humans. They shot and yelled, fearing for their lives. They were terrified, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to him and the others was that their hunger was satisfied.

…

He got shot, in the shoulder. He didn’t feel it but he did stumble. In the distance, he heard, “You imbecile! That was the prototype!”. Whatever it is afterwards the humans got away.

He slumped against the wall of a corner shop, feeling oddly tired and fell asleep.

…

He woke up, with thoughts screaming at him. He looked around in confusion as knowledge flowed through his newly working brain. He was confused, scared. What happened? He wasn’t like this before?

He stood up, stumbling. He looked to the shoulder of his trench coat, the shot of the clothing being there but his skin had almost regenerated as if it had never happened.

He ran into the crowd of nearby Zombies, he pushed into them. Getting no reaction, he was sentient, and the others weren’t. Had that bullet done something to him?

…

3 months since the outbreak.

He’s learnt that he’s become different to the other zombies, he’s come to the conclusion that he’s more aware than them, almost as if he were a human in a zombie’s body.

He learnt his name was Wilbur by the wallet and ID in his pocket. Which was good to know, not only that but he no longer felt that hunger, nothing actually. He felt no pain, sensation or anything.

But one thing he did feel was more powerful and stronger. He learnt he could easily flip over cars and change his size at will, which came in handy for hard-to-reach places. Not only that but any wound he sustained was easily recovered from, barely leaving a scar.

He hadn’t yet encountered humans, probably because there weren’t many left.

He had managed to create a place of his own in an apartment with a broken mirror, it did him good with a desk to write on, a guitar he could surprisingly play, a comfortable bed, everything he needed.

He looked in the mirror, he was outrageously pale, but not that green colour other zombies had, he was missing an eye that his hair easily covered, and his beanie covered up parts of his exposed skull. Which left him looking rather human.

…

He wandered the streets a while since he really had nothing better to do. That was until something caught his attention, zombies were crowding around a particular shop with curiosity. It made him curious as to what was going on.

He followed them inside and wandered for a while, then he saw them. What had caught the zombies interest but had not been picked up by them yet. It seems that the human had managed to narrowly getaway and was now narrowly avoiding them.

The human stared at him in horror, his bright blue eyes striking Wilbur. His hair was blonde but covered in dirt, not to mention that the boy himself was covered in dust, dirt and dried blood. The human was barely covered in protection with just a red and white t-shirt, trousers and recked shoes. How had he gotten this far?

He crouched down to the human, “Hey…”. He whispered, “What are you doing here kid?”. The human’s eyes furrowed at the nickname. “Trying to get away here! Dickhead!”. The boy whisper-yelled. “Well, you aren’t doing a very good job at it!”. He whisper-yelled back.

He pinched his nose and sighed, “Get to the back room as soon as you hear a sound, I’ll distract them.”, “What? That’s a death sentence!”, “Don’t worry about me! Worry about yourself!”.

Wilbur then crawled his way to the other side of the shop, not wanting to get suspicion from the human. He then grabbed a pan from a nearby shelf and threw it to a nearby shelf, which caused enough noise to gain the zombie's attention, making their way over there.

He then saw the backroom door open, he then made his way over there quietly. Once he made it and shut the door. The boy was already barricading it, making sure no zombies made their way in.

“Thanks, man, had no idea how I’d get outta that one. Names, Tommy”. Interesting, the human's name was Tommy, “Nice to meet you, I’m Wilbur. What are you doing out in a place like this? You look a bit young to be on your own if I’m honest”.

“Hey! I’m a grown man! And uh- my group left me to die”. The boy seemed upset by that fact, looking away. “Well, they’re assholes. Don’t worry about em’ you can stick with me for now if you want.”. Wait- he didn’t mean- “Really?”.

“Yeah, don’t mind helping for a little bit”. Great, why did he agree? Now he was stuck with a child.

…

The human then began to rummage through what seemed to be boxes of already looted stuff. He managed to find an old backpack with some small tins of food and water left in a small crate. Not only that but a small dagger to defend himself with, he seemed quite exciting when he found it.

“So, Wil. How’d you end up in the outbreak?”, he asked as he continued to rummage through crates. Wilbur took a minute to answer, one thing was he the human- Tommy didn’t know he was a zombie, not only that but even himself didn’t know how he became a zombie.

“Uhh, kinda just ended up in the place?”. “Oh, you didn’t have family or anything”, “No?”. “Ah, well for me my parents died in a car crash when the outbreak hit, now I’m on my own since my group left me”.

“Why did they leave you?”, “said I was deadweight, which wasn’t true. I did most of the shit they wanted”. “Forget em’ they aren’t worth it”. “I realised that thanks again, for the save.”. “It’s nothing don’t worry about it”.

The two then made their way out of the building, then got stuck by a wall. “Give me a hand will you?” he asked as he clumsily tried to climb the wall. Wilbur then gave him a boost and he climbed over, not without giving Wilbur his own hand to help him up.

Wilbur grabbed his hand, “Woah! You got a good grip!”. “I- yeah. Guess so”. He then helped Wilbur up the wall and the two continued their way to safety…

…

The two ran as fast as they could from the racing zombies, perhaps the two were a little bit too reckless with noise and were now getting chased down by a horde of Zombies. They ran into alleyways, alley after alley.

Eventually, though, they got cornered. Tommy brought his knife, prepared to defend his life. “Stay behind me!”, “What? Are you crazy?!”, “STAY BEHIND ME!”. He growled as he kept the boy behind him.

[psychewithwings]

Relflections

hello, hello,

welcome to the dark side... this is my second collab with bnharem. Please, please, read through the rest of the collab list HERE. I am so grateful to be working with so many other talented writers and artists on this. Special shout out to @doinmybesthere for beta reading and for @kuso-deku whom I dedicate this piece fror giving me the Mirio brain rot...

TW: NSFW, 18++++ Villains, dub-con moments, sex, violence, YANDERE MIRIO, two crazy people, inter dimensional travel, killing, mentions of blood, dirty talk, some cum play

Around 7000 words

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before. Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city? Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

You flip off the television and rise from your seat on the couch. Your roommate and the object of your affection had already left for the night. Mirio would never obey that curfew, not as long as there were people he could be saving. That’s Mirio for you… always being the hero, even if he’d lost his quirk ages ago. But ever since the onslaught of new villains, and heroes turning to the darkside you’re patching him up more than normal… He returns with wounds more serious now, the scars abundant on his once smooth skin. He is becoming a reflection of the ruin and carnage that floods the streets. This is why you had come up with, planned out, and prepared for a way to fix everything. You could never stop him from being a hero, it was who he was… but you can get his quirk back… 

You check your pocket one last time… it’s there, wrapped in that small blue handkerchief. You examine the strange item one last time, careful not to prick yourself with it by mistake. It’s shaped like a sewing pin, only slightly larger. One prick, that’s all it takes, one prick and it will absorb the power from the first thing that it touches. Then one more prick, and the next thing it touches will absorb the gathered power. One chance, that’s all you have. 

You grip the chain around your neck and pull the locket out from inside your shirt. You read the engraving on the back, as you always do, and you smile. 

Come back to me ~ Mirio

It had been a gift, something to help you when you were learning how to use your quirk. The going part had always been easy, it was the returning from your travels that had been difficult. You open the locket, one side is a watch, the other a mirror. You check the time and write it down to the second on your arm in biro. 

7:43. 26 PM

You have 8 hours exactly and you fear you’ll need much more time than that. But your quirk’s limits are not forgiving in the slightest. A second longer and you’ll die. 

You take a deep breath, eyes now focussing on the mirror side of the locket. You’d returned this way ever since Mirio gave you the locket, but never once travelled forward through the mirror before. You meet your own eyes and start to feel the familiar pull, your face turning that strange shade of blue. 

Please let this work. Please, take me to Mirio. 

The gravity in the mirror builds and you can feel the surging power of your quirk. You feel yourself meet your reflection, becoming one with it for a split second before you’re absorbed to the other side of the mirror. 

You land in a darkened alley. The smell of stale beer and piss invading your senses, making your head swim even more than normal. The thickness of the summer air does nothing to help. It doesn't matter how many times you use your quirk, it always leaves you dizzy, disoriented. But that was to be expected when travelling to another dimension. Your quirk was dubbed Mirror Image, it allowed you to travel to different dimensions by looking at your own reflection. 

You check your pockets again… it’s still there. The “quirk extractor”, that’s not really what it was called but you’d forgotten the actual name of it. It had taken trying quite a few different dimensions to find something like it. It was very possible that you might never find that place again. You had to treat this like it was the only one in existence, afterall, it was the only one in this existence. But where exactly was this existence?

You blink, vision clearing and you examine the alley. It looks like a regular alley, slimy brick walls, dumpster, broken liquor bottles. A few people walk past on the main street, their laughter echoing off the alley’s walls. A lightbulb buzzes over a shut metal door. But there was no Mirio. The plan was to find a mirror Mirio, a Mirio that had never lost his quirk... extract this Mirio’s quirk and bring it back to your Mirio, the Mirio you loved. 

You had done enough dimensional travel to know that every version of the self was weirdly connected. That’s why you had travelled forward through the mirror he had given you this time. You had hoped it would bring you to another Mirio, since the mirror had never failed to take you back to him… even if you were in a strange corner of the universe. But alas, it was like travelling through any other reflection. As usual, you stand in an unknown location, trying your best to figure out where you’ve ended up. 

You kick a stray tin can in frustration as you walk towards the more populated streets. You laugh at your own stupidity. You knew the real reason you were doing this. Maybe, this act of love, retrieving his stolen quirk would change his mind. Maybe he would take back what he had said all those years ago… the words that would never stop ringing in your ears.

You’re standing on the sidewalk, trying to decide which way to go when the sound of rusty hinges snaps you from your thoughts. You turn to look back down the dim lit alley. A man with shaggy blue hair exits the building, his red eyes gleam and your heart drops. It’s hard to see but you’d know his face anywhere, he’s practically taken over your city, Shigaraki Tomura. Take a few steps to where you’re concealed by the wall of the building. He speaks to someone who is still inside the building. You angle your head to try and hear over the busy street. “They’ve just been getting in the way is all, and I need you to get them out of the way… see?” 

Why did your quirk take you to Shigaraki when you had specifically thought of Mirio? The streetlight’s shadows help to hide your shape. You peek around to see who he is talking to. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see the tall blonde exit from the building’s wall. Mirio. You watch as he leans his shoulder against the brick from which he just emerged. He looks taller, stronger, and still has his quirk… would your Mirio have looked like this if his power had never been robbed?  His grey tshirt is pulled tight around his body and his usually done hair is ungelled, almost messy, bangs hanging just above his eyes. “That’s easy, you have anything actually worth my time?” he jokes. Shigaraki looks unamused, eyes closing in annoyance.

 “Just do it, and don’t make it so messy this time… you tend to leave a trail wherever you go,” Shigaraki scolds. Mirio grins, but it’s not the same warm smile you’d grown to love, this smile is darker, more sinister. “I’ll take care of it boss, sheesh, you worry too much,” he rolls his shoulder on the wall until his back is flush against the brick. He pushes off of it and heads towards the end of the alley. You panic as he heads your way. “It’s that hotel on the corner of Roosevelt and Third,” Shigaraki screeches after Mirio who gives him a wave of his hand. “If you weren’t so useful I’d kill you,” Shigaraki adds. Mirio’s laugh bounces off of the alley walls. “You could try,” he calls as he rounds the corner, just passing you as you crouch near some bags of garbage praying he doesn’t notice you. But he passes you, languidly walking towards the destination he was just given by Shigaraki Tomura. That’s when it hits you… by going through Mirio’s mirror, you have found yourself a mirror Mirio. An exact opposite to the man you know.  

The thoughts are swirling around in your head but there’s no time to sort through them… you have to follow him. You slowly rise from your hiding place and melt into the crowds of people. It’s lucky that Mirio is so tall, it makes him easy to follow from a safe distance away. The crowded main streets turn to less populated side streets and you have to maneuver accordingly to stay well hidden. Mirio approaches a building with a neon sign that spells out HOTEL in red letters. A glowing arrow points to the double doors at the front of the building. He hurries up the steps before slipping inside.  

You follow close behind to make sure not to lose him inside but leave a long enough gap so that it isn’t too obvious. Upon entering, you’re met with the old red carpet that should have been replaced twenty years ago. Dust clings to the fabric of the sofa and cobwebs dangle from the antique crystal chandelier. The floor is well polished however, reflecting the lights that hang from the ceiling. It��s strange that there’s no clerk at the desk but a few people piddle about the lobby. A man makes eye contact with you, furrowing his brow in confusion. A woman in a short, low cut dress slips her hand below another man's belt and whispers something in his ear. No one blinks when Mirio makes a beeline down the hallway to the left. This was not an ordinary hotel. You walk calmly after Mirio and peer down the long dark corridor. There’s not sight of him but you watch the door at the end of the hall close. There. The lights in this section of the hall are off and everything seems quiet, whereas the hall to the right was lit and loud. Sounds of pleasure and partying spilling from underneath each door. You curse Mirio for walking down the more sinister path and follow begrudgingly. 

The hall is dark save one room where hysterical cries seep out. You don’t want to know what was going on and instead keep your eyes trained on the small bit of light that pours from the window inside that end door. Upon closer inspection there is a coating of condensation on the glass. This must be the pool. 

You retrieve the quirk extractor from your pocket and remove it from it’s wrapping, careful not to prick yourself.  You slowly open the door he had gone through just moments ago. You slid inside the door slowly and carefully, making more sound than you would have liked, but it can’t be helped. Any sound easily bounces off the water of the glistening blue pool. The smell of chlorine is overwhelming and you start to realise that there aren’t very many good hiding places in a place like this.... And Mirio is nowhere to be found. You grip the quirk extractor as you hear a door towards the back of the room slam shut. Another exit… your footsteps echo far more than you would like for them to as you head towards the door. 

“Gotchya.”

The voice startles you. Your grip on the quirk extractor falters, coupled with the way you jump… you watch as it slowly descends into the water, effectively pricking the pool. The ball at the end of the extractor emits a green light as it sinks to the bottom. “You idiot!” you shout before you can think better of it. Mirio steps from the wall and quirks an eyebrow up at you. “Me idiot? You’re the one following me with the stealth of one of the 3 stooges.”

He looks even more dangerous up close. A long scar descends from his chin down his neck. And while his eyes are the same colour, there’s a glint in them which your Mirio lacks. He’s faster as this version of himself, and you don’t have time to think before your back is against the cold tile wall. “So gorgeous, gonna tell me what that thing was and why you’re following me… or will I just rip the answers out of you one by one.” You’re too confused watching as he looms over you. His expression is half pleased, half irritated. You inhale to speak but the words don’t come. The smile on his face right now… it’s the expression of someone who has killed and enjoyed it. It’s never something you could have pictured to play across Mirio’s face and it jars you. A chill runs up your spine and goosebumps prickle on your arms. He’s terrifying but also so beautiful. 

One of his hands moves up to grip your throat as he growls, “I’m waiting, bitch.” You flail as his grip tightens, scratching your nails into his arm in hopes that he will let go.  “Please Mirio, I-I’m sorry.” His grip loosens suddenly but his hand stays around your neck. “What did you call me?” You cough and inhale, then meet his eyes. There is a familiar curiosity within his gaze but it’s joined by something else, that same strange glint. Is it amusement or something much more sinister? You can’t put your finger on it. “Mirio, your name is Mirio,” you murmur. A sly smile crosses his face as he moves closer to you, his hips pinning yours to the tile. “Yes, but how do you know that?” 

You stutter, trying to find the right words, a sigh haphazardly escaping your lips as the heat from his body becomes intoxicating. “You been sent to spy by the heroes?” You shake your head and try to wiggle free, but only succeed in grinding against him. A low laugh bubbles from his throat as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand and stills your hips with his other. “That’s real cute, but not gonna get you out of trouble with me…” His eyes flick down your body then back up. “Quite the opposite actually,” he teases. Your face feels warm and your eyes dart down and away. “Aww you’re so shy now, makes me wanna eat you up.” Mirio tilts your chin upwards so you’re looking at him. His eyes have softened slightly. “Just tell me,okay? I don’t wanna have to hurt ya.” There's a strange pleading in his tone, a sincerity you didn't expect. “We know each other, Mirio… well sort of,” you match the tone of his voice. A smirk breaks on his face, “are you my stalker?” You roll your eyes, he still had a sense of humour in this universe. It’s nice to know some things never change. 

“No, no we’re friends, but I know a different… you.” He blinks before his eyes narrow. He starts to speak but you continue to explain… about your quirk, the Mirio you know, and how you’d planned to steal his quirk. You show him your locket, the engraving. He still seems suspicious as he turns it over in his hands, examining it. “You’re a crafty little liar, I’ll give you that, had this made and all, but now I’ll have to pull the truth out of you, and like I said, I really didn’t want to have to do that to you.” “Wait… I can prove it, just let me use the mirror… then I’ll leave you alone.” Mirio looks you up and down again before opening the locket and holding it out for you. 

You focus on your reflection and watch as your face turns that strange blue black colour. Guilt seeps from your mind and travels down your spine as you’re pulled towards your reflection. The quirk extractor was sitting at the bottom of the pool, now carrying within it the power of chlorine… You hadn’t helped Mirio, only discovered a dark side to his existence… which wasn’t all that bad it seemed. He hadn’t harmed you at all, just threatened you slightly and even then it had seemed he was teasing and flirting more than anything. Your Mirio had never flirted with you… on purpose. The pull of the mirror became stronger and there was a strange sadness, a feeling that you would miss this version of Mirio. This version of Mirio was void of the sunshine that the original Mirio held within him at all times, but this Mirio seemed to see you. This Mirio had given you more in a few seconds than the original Mirio had in years. You shut your eyes as you began to fall into the mirror’s reflection. The original Mirio’s words that he’d said to you that day still hanging heavy in your heart. You laugh at your own pathetic nature for the second time today. You fantasies of Mirio were just that… just fantasies. In all universes. 

A hand pushes you backwards away from the mirror. The impact is so strong you stumble, but the same hand catches you and pulls you into him. You gasp for air, your head reeling from being ripped from the portal. Mirio holds you close, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just- I didn’t want you to go.” His voice is riddled with guilt, shaking slightly. You fist your hands into his shirt, gripping the fabric as you struggle to stand. “Whoa whoa, hey,” he consoles as he sinks to his knees, bringing you with him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. “I really didn’t mean to- I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m okay, I’ve just never been pulled from a portal before,” you stutter. His thumb brushes over your face temple. “You remember your name?” You state your name and he repeats it, “Y/n… I love it.” A smile plays on your features, cheeks heating once again upon hearing the compliment. “Hey, what’s 2 + 2?” 

“4,”

“Damn, well I guess you’re a math wiz.”

Your eyes flutter open and he smiles, “there she is.” You squeeze your eyes shut then open them once more in an effort to stop the room from spinning. “Are you gonna kill me now?” you drawl. Mirio pouts, “well that depends, are you still gonna steal my quirk for other me?” You laugh and roll your head away from him. “I can’t, it’s in the pool now, it’s absorbed the fucking power of chlorine.” Mirio laughs, “well whose fault is that?” You look up at him, there’s an intensity to his gaze when you meet his eyes. Your heart hammers against your chest… “yours.” You start to sit up, his arms still cling to you. “You’re the dummy who let go just ‘cuz I scared you.” You hum considering his words, “you don’t scare me Mirio.” 

His arms relax around you and you move to lay down on the tile floor. Your back relaxes against the floor and you move your arms over your head to rest your head in your hands. “You should be afraid, I’m a whole different me, sweetheart,” he remarks. He moves to lay next to you, mimicking your position. “You’re still Mirio,” you sigh, your eyes taking in the blank space of the ceiling. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, my body count, nothing.” “You’re still Mirio,” you insist. Laying like this you can hear the echo of your words bouncing off of the water. “He’s lucky, other me… to have a girl like you.” His last few words are whispered, failing to bounce around the room. They hang over you, adding weight to the atmosphere. “Ah well, the Mirio in my universe doesn’t see it that way,” you deflect. Mirio rolls to face you, his head laying in the crook of his arm. “I know we don’t know each other… not really, but it’s strange, I feel like I’ve known you forever.” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are practically on fire now, that small glint having grown into a flame. “In a way we have, I know a version of you… what I’ve come to find is every universe has overlaps of some sort… you and the Mirio I know will share some things… memories even.” Mirio’s face lights up, “yes exactly, I feel like I’ve seen you in a dream or something…” You shrug, “it’s possible.” Mirio smiles, it’s a familiar smile, a sincere happiness that the Mirio of your universe wears often. Much different than the smiles this Mirio had even just a few moments ago. 

“Why are you a villain?” you ask him. Mirio clutches his chest in mock pain. “That hurts, sweetheart… Just because I don’t accept the truths the rule makers of our world have given me… that’s what makes me a “villain”?” You narrow your eyes, “I meant more that you’re a hitman working for Shigaraki Tomura.” He laughs, “heard that did you? Guess you were following me for longer than I’d realised.” He pauses and moves closer to you. “I have no problem getting rid of a few people who won’t contribute anything of value… most lives are a total waste, I’m merely an exterminator… getting rid of the bad to make more space for the good…” He says it so casually that it makes chills run up your spine. “So does that make you the good or the bad?” He laughs again though this time he is less amused with your question. “I’m just a sacrificial pawn, sweetheart… can’t be good to make space for it.” 

You reach out and touch his bare arm. His skin is hot against his fingertips. “You didn’t hurt me… when you thought I was lying, you can’t be bad…” He smiles, “That’s just because I see how good you are and I want to protect that… protect you.” His hand begins to mirror yours, stroking up and down your arm with light fingertips. “If you can see the good, then that makes you good.” 

His fingers grip into your arm and he pulls you closer to him. He reaches for the back of your neck when he notices the smudge of ink on his hand. He examines your arm and finds the numbers. “What’s this?” he asks. You sigh, “it’s the time I have to go…” He pulls your face closer to his, your noses almost touching. “You can’t stay?” You shake your head, “Only for 8 hours, else I’ll be torn apart by the universal pulls… I’m not really supposed to be here ya know,” you joke. Mirio’s face falls, “Can you come back?” You shrug, “I can but the time I can stay is deducted every single time I return to a universe until I can no longer visit anymore…” Mirio’s thumb rubs soft circles into the flesh of your cheek. “What should we do then?” he asks. You smile sadly before sitting up. You give him an impish smirk. “Well, there’s a pool, I say we swim.” 

You start by removing your top, slowly peeling it away and discarding it to the floor. Mirio follows, taking off his grey tshirt. His figure is chiseled, each muscle toned and defined. You start unbuttoning your trousers when you feel the heat of his chest flush against your back. “Can I?” he asks as his hands rest on your hips. You nod and he slowly pulls your pants down your legs. He helps you step out of them before throwing them towards the growing pile of clothes. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your skin, trailing kisses up your thighs. You grab his face with two hands and pull him to standing. “My turn,” you smirk, looping your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him towards you. You undo his pants, kissing down his chest. Savoring the taste of his skin. He groans at your touch and you feel the heat pooling low in your belly. His pants removed his stands only in grey underwear, while you remain in your bra and panties. 

You teasingly move away from him and stand on the first rung of the ladder in the deep end of the pool. You look back to where he stands, calling him to you with your gaze. He groans as he moves towards you. “I’m really holding back you know,” he growls, pressing his chest against your back, his a. “Why hold back? You can have whatever you want… Just take it, make it yours.” Mirio trails his lips up your neck, ready to suckle a mark into your skin, when you add, “if you can,” and step off the ladder into the blue water. 

As soon as the water touches your skin you’re swimming towards the other side. You hear Mirio dive in after you and know that this has all been futile. He grabs your hand and slings you gently towards the wall. He places both of his hands on either side of your body, pinning you. You wipe the water from your eyes before wrapping them around his neck. “You caught me so fast… I thought you’d chase me around more,” you provoke. He shakes the water from his hair and moves his body closer to yours. “Chasing you is a waste of fucking time right? I want to have you,” he growls. You open your mouth to say something but are silenced by his lips on yours. 

The kiss is needy, sloppy. He kisses you like he’s starving, finally being fed. His tongue draws circles around yours before sucking it into his mouth. You moan into the kiss and he responds by pulling you closer, grinding on your clothed cunt with his hardening cock. He moves to run his tongue along your bottom lip before nipping at it. You sight into the kiss, turning your head to deepen it. You pull away a wry smile on your face. Mirio’s pupils are blown, that unfamiliar glint in his eye now having a name for it, desire. 

“Miri, I want you,” his hips stutter against yours upon hearing this. “Fuck princess, I won’t be able to hold back anymore if you keep looking at me like that.” You pepper kisses to his face, tasting the chlorine on his skin. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper, “I trust you, you’re good to me, I’m yours if that’s what you really want.” His breath shakes upon hearing this and he presses his forehead to yours. “Mine? All fucking mine? Like this me?” You nod and kiss him again. This time you catch his bottom lip and suck it, pulling on it just to hear him moan. 

He helps lift you to where you’re sitting on the edge of the pool. He peels your panties down your legs before spreading them. He kisses one of your thighs before massaging the other. “So fucking perfect,” he praises, “all fucking mine.” He trails his hand and mouth up the inside of your thigh. He spreads your folds, drinking in the sight of your bare cunt. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he sighs. “I’m gonna make you forget about any other versions of me, you’re going to be all mine.” He presses a kiss to your clit, “gonna be all fucking mine, princess.” 

He drags his tongue, slow, up your slit and circles it around your clit before sucking on it gently. You stifle a whine and you can feel him smiling in pride. “That is princess, lemme hear those sweet sounds.” He does the same move again and this time you don’t hold it in. Your sounds of pleasure echo around the pool, bouncing around and finally landing back on your own ears. But you don’t hear them, as you’re too lost in the pleasure. Mirio grips the wall of the pool with one hand while the other comes up to rest on your lower abdomen. His thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your clit while his tongue circles your hole. “Tastes so fucking good,” he growls and then shoves his tongue inside. The muscle is hot, wet, and he slowly begins to add more pressure to your clit while tongue fucking you. You’re completely overcome with a mind melting pleasure as you fall back onto your elbows, your hips grinding against his face. You aren’t sure how, but you can already feel that familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Mirio seems to know as he picks up the pace. “Cum all over my face- wanna taste you-” His permission was all you needed and soon you’re clamping down around his tongue, calling broken syllables of his name. He kisses your cunt as you come down from your high. “Such a good girl for me, cumming when I say.”

He lifts himself out of the pool and removes his underwear. He’s thick, incredibly so and long. The head is red, leaking pre cum. You groan at the sight, cunt aching to be filled. You reach for him, pulling him on top of you. He kisses you, deep, passionate, with lots of tongue and teeth. You can feel his cock, thick and hard pressing into your thigh. He ruts his hips into yours, his cock sliding along your thigh. “Please,” you beg. He growls and flips you to where you’re on top and he sits pressing you to him, cock wedged between the two of you. You grind against him in anticipation. “Please Miri,” you plead. He lifts you and in one swift move, you’re impaled on his cock. 

You cry out, and it echoes back to you. The stretch is incredible, a pleasurable, dull pain that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He carefully thrusts up into you, and you crumble, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t wanna hurt my baby,” he coos, body stilling. You shake your head, “no it feels good, y-you're just so big.” He laughs darkly, “you love the pain, don't you?” He gives another thrust to test your reaction and this time he can feel it. Your pussy dripping down his cock.He looks down, eyes blowing at the sight, “fuck baby look, I’m not even all the way inside…” You look down and moan, his cock is a little over half inside. It’s too big to fit all the way. “You cute little cunt keeps throbbing on my cock, and when she does, she drools.” He wipes up some of your combined juices with his thumb and rubs into your clit again, just as he had before. Then he starts to move. 

He starts slowly bouncing you in his lap at a gentle pace, but soon his eyes change and his thrusts become harder and faster. “I’m sorry princess, but you feel too good, I need more of you, need all of you.” Mirio fucks into you harder, his cock so big he hits every spot inside of you that makes you weak with each thrust. Your cries become louder and more desperate. His cock kissing your cervix with each thrust causes you to disintegrate in his lap. The lewd sounds of his hips smacking into your ass fills the pool. Mirio’s eyes flick down and he growls. “Look at that baby, ‘m all the way inside now, doing so good, so fucking perfect taking every inch I have to give. God you’re fucking made for me.” You sink your teeth into his neck in a desperate effort to stave off your orgasm, to savor the moment you’d waited so long for. The moment where you and Mirio Togata become one. But it feels too good, the pleasure so intense that you’re pushed over the edge again, clenching tightly around Mirio’s fat cock. “Fuck baby, do that again, milk my cock for me while I fuck you into my shape.” 

His thrusts become sloppier but he manages to continue to hit all your spots, driving his cock into you at a bruising pace. You’re shaking in his lap, body convulsing from your last orgasm as another starts to build. “Fucking hell baby, you’re so fucking perfect, and you’re mine, all fucking mine.” His hips start to stutter but his pace quickens. “I’m all yours Miri, yes, I’m yours,” you moan. He pulls your head towards him and kisses you with that same hunger as before, teeth gripping at your lower lip and him sucking on your tongue. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm washes over you, white hot. It’s too much and sends him over the edge. “That’s it, milk my cock, milk my fucking cock,” he pants, pouring his cum deep inside you. “I’m gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine forever,” he growls as his hot ropes of cum still paint your walls. 

Your body is shaking, the post orgasm cold mixed with your wet body has goosebumps prickling your body. He pulls his cock out and groans at the way his cum drips from your hole. He smiles, “you’re even more beautiful now that I’ve claimed you.” You smile against his skin. “I feel more beautiful,” you reply. But Mirio’s words ring in your ears. You sit up quickly but wince. “I hurt you, I’m so-” “No, that isn’t it…” You lay your head in the crook of his neck. “The longer I’m here in this dimension the weaker I become… but I’m okay, don't worry.” You nuzzle into him, trying to steal some of his warmth. He caresses your back, “I wish you could stay…” “I-I have to go back, we can’t be together forever, even though it’s all I want,” when you finally say the words you start to cry. Mirio wraps his arms around you. “You’re cold,” he says. He helps you up holding your hands, “can you stand?” You nod and he walks you back towards the shallow end of the water. He eases himself in first and then takes your hand to help you do the same. 

He cradles you to him, “but you can go back to other me, and when you make love to him, you can just think of me… we’re the same.” You look into his eyes, face pleading, “that’s just it Mirio, you aren’t the same at all… he will never love me.” Mirio’s face darkens, anger, pure anger resides in his features. “Why not?” You take a deep breath. These were the words that haunted you from the moment the other Mirio had spoken them. “He told me, I will always love you, but I will never, ever, love you like that.” You whisper this secret to him.

Mirio can see it, the weight you’ve carried in your heart. That Mirio might save people all day long, be an actual hero, but he’s the one that’s more fucked… evil. Breaking the most perfect girl he has ever known into small pieces. No, Mirio could never let such evil exist, even if that evil was technically himself. “I’m gonna kill him,” he vows as he cradles you protectively. 

Your eyes widen, and you grip onto his face. He looks at you, smiling. “Miri, do you really want to be with me forever?” He nods and kisses you, “more than anything, you’re mine now, I’ve claimed you, you belong to me.” “I belong to you,” you echo and press your forehead against his. “I think I know a way,” you inform, the grin breaking over your face. He awaits an explanation with wide eyes. “You can come back to my world with me.” Mirio narrows his eyes in confusion, “won’t that kill me? Like it kills you?” You shake your head, “no… that just has to do with the limitations of my quirk… I’ve brought someone back with me before, the only thing is… that there’s already a Mirio in my universe, which could technically throw time and space out of balance. But there’s a small window where it wouldn’t… and if you really want to kill him… then there would only be one again.” You smile and hold his face, peppering it with kisses. “You can kill him and take his place!” 

You’re met with Mirio’s grin and another sloppy kiss. “I knew I was right about you, you’re perfect.” You both climb out of the pool and dress in your clothes again. You put the locket around your neck and open it focussing on your reflection. For the first time, holding the mirror, you don’t feel the weight of the other Mirio’s words. This Mirio, now your Mirio, has filled the void that the Mirio of your universe put inside your heart. You wonder now if you’d really loved him all this time or if it was a disguised hatred and rage. You’d always found blood somewhat disturbing but now you were excited to see it. Excited to watch the man who hurt you bleed out and be destroyed by the man you loved. Excited to watch him die. 

 You grip Mirio’s hand in yours, finger interlaced. “Just don’t let go, no matter what, okay?” Mirio kisses your hand. “I won’t, swear,” he confirms. 

Your face begins to change and you feel the gravity sucking you back into your reflection, but this time, you won’t be returning to him alone and in pieces. You’ll be returning to him whole.  This time… it would be him lying in pieces on the floor. 

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter four // three days on drunken sin

summary: bucky decides to rifle through those boxes and finds the will to make the first move.

warnings: food/eating, nothing too bad this time!

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: how are we feeling about this week’s episode?? we’re getting closer to the start of tfatws with this chapter!! hope i don’t break your heart too much with the boxes :)

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The boxes taunted him for three days.

Three stacks of two boxes each cluttered his entranceway, each with that familiar scrawl of Steve’s God-awful handwriting.

‘BUCKY’

All caps, in black Sharpie, underlined three times just for good measure. Steve was always good at getting his message across.

He didn’t want to know what was in them, he told himself. But Steve was gone, and this was all he had left. These, that stupid notebook he still hadn’t found the will to write in, and the shield that was kicking around Sam’s apartment somewhere.

He wanted to toss them in his building’s dumpster, to push these aside like he did with everything else in his life. Out of sight, out of mind. That week, he didn’t tell his therapist about the boxes, or Sam’s unexpected visit, or his neighbor that he was now avoiding like the plague. Thankfully, she chalked his silence up to Steve and tried to fill in the conversational lulls with suggestions of amends and lists and he just wanted to go back to sleep.

Like always, sleep never came.

He knew the single night in his bed was a fluke, but he kept trying at least. He’d untuck his flat sheet from under hit mattress, fluff his pillow, and tuck himself in. Within five minutes, he was back on the hardwood floor of his living room, the lamplights illuminating his window and casting a perfect shadow on those stupid boxes. Finally, on the third night, he huffed a sigh and sat up, his arm whirring at the sudden movement. He wasn’t accomplishing anything letting them sit and gather dust.

Bucky reached under the cushions of his couch, fishing for the knife he had stashed away and got to work slicing through the clear packing tape securing each one.

The first five boxes were files. Mission reports, everything Steve could get his hands on about The Winter Soldier. The translations were rough, the descriptions weren’t as vivid as he remembered them now, and it wasn’t even close to everything. Why Steve kept them when Bucky was working to erase every trace of this from the universe, he would never understand. Steve was sentimental, even with the bad stuff. Bucky glanced over the files scattered across his entranceway, which maybe amounted to a year of his missions. If Zemo had looked in some suburb in upstate New York, he would have found everything he needed.

The dumpster behind his building was starting to feel more and more enticing.

The last box felt different. Significantly lighter and smaller, the items rolling and clanking as he dragged it towards him. He braced himself for more files, more reminders of what he had done as though they didn’t exist in his mind every second of the day.

The first thing he recognized was his mother’s handwriting. ‘Recipes’, scrawled so perfectly on a yellowing label.

The tin box was tinted with age, dented after so many years. He laughed and could remember it tucked away on the top shelf of the cabinet by the fridge, just out of Rebecca’s reach, even when she’d stand on her tiptoes in search of it. His Ma rarely fished it out, other than to let his little sister read over the ingredients with sticky hands as she helped stir pots and peel potatoes. She had them memorized by the time she was a teenager, having transcribed her own mother’s recipes onto these little cards. He was sure Rebecca did, too.

Next was the worn fabric of his Ma’s favorite apron. Yellow embroidered flowers scattered the crimped edge, strings falling loose. He recognized some of the stains, from spaghetti night and cake batter that she let dry on the cloth for too long.

Finally, a worn silver chain was buried at the bottom of the box.

JAMES B BARNES 32557038 T42 A

Of course, Steve with all his connections and know-it-all attitude and ‘I can do this all day’ would find some way to find his dog tags, probably tucked away in some ancient Hydra file. His flesh fingers ran over the indentation of his name, pressed into metal like millions of other boys had, off to fight a war that had nothing to do with them. Everything to lose, nothing to gain.

When he was most alone, settled into muddy trenches with wet socks and a stiff military jacket, he would recite those numbers out into the night sky. He’d map constellations over his head, wondering if it would be his last night and all there would be left of him would be those stupid discs of metal clanking around his neck and the letter tucked away in his jacket breast pocket, addressed to his mother.

His mother was long gone, he knew that. But to a fully conscious James Buchanan Barnes – not the Winter Soldier - he had only seen her a few years ago when he shipped off.

After a moment, he pulled the chain of his dog tags over his head, settling them under his shirt. His ears rung with the sound of footsteps in the hallway. The sound of dragging feet and the jangle of your keychain signaled your return from class.

His family was gone, Steve included. The only people he has left are halfway across the world, or off on some death-defying mission wearing metal bird wings. Except you, who still leaves bags of cookies on his front door mat, despite the silent treatment from his end. His maybe too friendly neighbor who poured over lists of albums for him to find taped to his door in barely legible handwriting when you should have been studying.

His mother’s recipe box was calling his name.

-

The knock on your door startled you from your nap. Well, if you can call dozing off at your desk using a law book as a makeshift pillow a nap. You stalled in your desk chair, eyes bleary as you squinted at your front door, then at the top corner of your computer.

2:36 AM

You nuzzled back into your book, content to chalk it up to your sleep deprived brain making things up.

The second knock was much more insistent and was certainly coming from your door. You rushed out of your chair, sock-clad feet dragging the blanket draped across your shoulders as you shuffled over, the knocking never ceasing. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, peering out your peephole into the dark hallway.

Bucky, with slumped shoulders and a bowed head, trying with all of his might to make himself as small as possible still took up so much of the doorway with his broad shoulders.

You should be mad at him.

You should go to bed, ignore him like he’d been ignoring you for the past few weeks. Like you hadn’t shared late nights and he hadn’t sat in your kitchen, licking your spoons clean or tucked into your couch just to watch you study, a new record playing gently. Your forehead pressed to the door, vile building in your throat as seething words collected on your tongue.

“I know you’re there.” His voice was muffled through the wooden door, feeling so close but sounding so far away. “We should work on you dragging your feet, doll.”

If you had taken another peek, you would have seen him pressing his forehead to the other side.

“You ignored me, Bucky.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, even through the door. “Some family stuff came up. But it’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

It’s so stupid, letting yourself get so attached to the first guy to bat his eyelashes and read to you. It’s idiotic to want him to seep into your days and nights, to never leave like he had left you, after only knowing each other for a month.

It’s so foolish to open the door. But you do it anyways.

He swallows as he stands straight, and the widening of his eyes tells you that he wasn’t expecting you to give him a second chance.

“I, uh, here. Thought I’d finally return the favor.”” Bucky shoves forward a plate of cookies, misshapen and unevenly cooked. His eyes finally found yours. “My mom’s recipe.”

Family stuff, you remembered. The weight of the plate felt heavy in your hands, almost as heavy as his gaze on you as you lifted one of the lesser burnt cookies to your mouth and took a timid bite.

Bucky, you’ve come to learn, gives his love in silent acts of approval. He shines when you tell him his singing isn’t totally awful or that he makes a great sous chef, eyes crinkling when you approve of his music choice for the night or compliment the voices he picks when reading from his books. As he watched you, you felt that this cookie meant more to him then just flour and eggs.

He was reaching out, terrified of your rejection.

“You made these?”

“Alright, I’m not totally helpless.”

“They’re amazing, Bucky. Your mom should be proud.”

He returned your smile, knowing that she wouldn’t be. How could she, after all that his hands have done? Hands that should’ve been home, hoisting his sisters onto his shoulders. Hands that should have been helping set the table and at work so they had something to eat in the first place.

He looked so timid in your hallway, unsure of the next move. You rolled your eyes, moving to clear your doorway, despite his hesitation.

“Come on.” You spoke, like ushering in a stray cat with the promise of food and love.

He took the first step forward, shoulder to shoulder, head tilted down to catch your playful gaze with his serious one. Your mouth opened to make some sort of quip to ease the tension, but the words died in your throat as he pressed his forehead against yours for just a second.

His eyes closed as he drew in a single serene breath through his nose.

He was gone as quickly as he had come, moving further into your apartment and directly to your shelves of records, gloved fingers grazing over the sleeves in contemplation for his first choice of the night. As you finally collected yourself enough to close the door, you wondered how many people in the world had ever loved Bucky Barnes enough to give him a second chance.

taglist: @tisthedamninez @wcndamaxcmoff @freyagallileaevans @bibliophilewednesday @justtoreblogfics @teti-menchon0604 @l-adysansa @heart-eyes-horan @thiswasnevermylifefromtony @rexorangecouny @dilfvision @urafakebetch @comphersjost @am-tired-bois @spid3rgwen @beautyandthebleh @euphoricaaaa @inadquacy @mackycat11 @withyoutilltheendofthismess @motherofallthesmallthings @victoriabaker112213 @macrillez @stvalentiness @nova10711 @tailsoflightning @okiegirl24 @qhbr2013 @beachbabe925 @weenersoldierr @venusinart @marvel-mistress @orthellqs @phasma-trash @beni-angie @infinitely-yellow @riverlethe1

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: Part 1 (Javier Pena x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Pena as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: ANGST! Explicit drug and alcohol abuse from the beginning, depressive thinking/intrusive thoughts, swearing

Word Count: 4.8k

A/n: My first ever Javi fic, of course I had to make it the angstiest thing I’ve written in a long time!!  This is part one of the first part of the story which is also the end of the story... just had to make it confusing for you. 

Disclaimer: I do not have any experience with cocaine or addiction, all writing is based on my own research and is not a good representation of how it really is! Don’t do coke kids, it’s never good.

Part 2

---

Four in the morning, the sun was just above the horizon and you were stumbling home from yet another party. Enough tequila swam through your system that you didn’t really think about the wellbeing of your neighbor when you tapped on his door. You wanted to keep going. Javier, you decided, would make the perfect company. And maybe you could continue that kiss you had not stopped thinking about since it happened four months ago! You grinned devilishly at the thought and knocked harder on the door.

“Javi! Javier!” You rapped on the door. “Javier Peña, abra la puerta!” You sang, leaning all your weight on the door as your world span fast around you, “Javi,”

“What?” Javier opened the door suddenly, causing you to fall into him. You laughed as you caught yourself on his arm. You had woken him up, he was dressed in a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants with his hair bushy and wild. 

“Hola!” You grinned up at him, not hiding the way you checked him out. You were obviously drunk and high, eyes red and shining brightly even in the dim light of the apartment block hallway. Javi wrinkled his nose as the smell of you hitting him, tequila and cigar smoke clung to you.

“Again?” Javi sighed heavily. This was the third time this week you had woken him up, accidentally or on purpose, coming home drunk. He was starting to worry about you. 

“Si,” You grinned from ear to ear, You were in more of a state than last time. For one you were still speaking Spanish, something Javi had rarely ever heard you speak. You must have been with your local friends, he surmised. “No lo siento Javi. ¡Es divertido!”

“It’s not fun, you’re a mess. Get in here,” He pulled you by the arm into his apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“Eres enojado?” You asked, still grinning. You walked backwards into his apartment, tripping down the step and landing with a thud on his leather couch. You cackled with laughter.Javier frowned and put his hands on his hips, of course he was annoyed at you! It was four in the morning and you both had work the next morning. You dramatically flopped back on his couch and huffed at his grumpy attitude, “It’s only polite, Javi! They gave it to me!”

“It’s poison!! He exclaimed, “Why would you do that to yourself?” 

“It’s helping,” You proclaimed. 

“It’s not helping anyone, you’re gunna fuck up sooner or later.” Javi warned, as he had done many times before. 

“I got that list,” You protested, “That was helpful!”

“And what will you do when they work out that you stole it?” 

“No lo sé,” You shrugged. You reached into your pocket and grabbed the last of the coke you had been given. You wanted a little more. You pulled the tin out of your pocket and placed it on the coffee table at your feet.

“You-,” Javi started before he noticed what you were doing, instantly he was on you, “Para!” He exclaimed as he snatched the coke from your hand before you had time to open it. 

“Necesito!” You whined, pouting at him. You were lying, you didn’t need it. You wanted it, a lot. 

“No,” Javi snapped.

“Lo siento, Javi,” You pleaded with him, eyes locked onto the packet in his hand.

“You’re not though, are you? Fucking look at me!” He yelled. You startled and looked up at him as tears pricked your eyes. “Quit it. Now. You know what this shit does, stop it. Whatever you think you’re doing is not worth it, okay?”

“Pero-“

“No. Me vale!” He cut you off. “You’re better than this, Y/n,”

You sustained eye contact for a moment. The room was deathly quiet, he glared at you with fierce intensity. You had never seen him so angry, if you weren’t so drunk you would have instantly buckled under the pressure. The only thing your drunk brain could think of was how hot he looked, you wondered how rough he would be with you if he was this angry. You couldn’t help the snigger that crept up in your throat at that thought. You clamped your hand over your mouth to stop the laugh, Javi rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!” You laughed, “It’s just you can’t look at me like that and not fuck me!” 

“Jesus christ,” Javier pinched the bridge of his nose. What little patience he had for you was running out fast. You continued to laugh. 

“Can I stay here?” You asked.

“Take the couch,” Javi waved you off, his back turned heading back to his bedroom. 

“I can’t sleep with you?” Your voice was laced with innuendo, he knew what you wanted. A part of him was tempted, your dress left very little to the imagination, but he knew he couldn’t do it.

“You’re drunk and high,” Javier said plainly, “and we’ve spoken about this before. No,” He was firm with you. He hated having to reject you for a second time but he wasn’t a complete monster. He wouldn’t sleep with you in this state. 

“Worth a try,” You laughed, thankfully giving up quickly. Javi shook his head and walked away again, “Muchos gracias, Javi,” You called after him. He shut the door. 

--

You woke up as the early morning sunlight pushed through the windows. You groaned and turned over, finding you were not in your bed but on a couch. Startled, you sat up and nearly screamed when you recognised the apartment as Javier’s. Luckily you were still fully dressed with your shoes still on, nothing had happened. Memories of how you got there were blurry, you remembered knocking on his door but had blacked out after that.

The clock on the wall said it was six am. You could go upstairs to your own bed clean up and hope that maybe Javi wouldn’t hear you and confront you about it. 

You stood up from the couch, trying not to think about all the things the man had done on it, and grabbed your jacket from the ground. As you stood up the strength of your hangover kicked in, you grumbled. That was when you noticed the discarded coke packet on the counter. You stopped. You knew you shouldn’t pick it up, you didn’t need it. But the taste caught at the back of your throat and you found yourself wanting it. It was undeniably addictive, you had promised yourself you wouldn’t take it this far but the foul substance had made its bed.

“Go home,” Javi’s voice broke you out of the trance. He was only wearing sweatpants, hair mussed up from sleep that you had most definitely disturbed more than once. He pulled the cocaine off the table and threw it into the trash before you could reach it. You gulped, shame rising like hot steam through your lungs. You grabbed your things and left, running straight upstairs to your own apartment.

It was still early but you knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep again. Shame was swirling up in your throat. How ironic that a DEA agent was addicted to the thing she was meant to be stopping? But you weren’t addicted, you reasoned with yourself, you were fine. This was no different to when you lived off Redbull for a month during finals, it was a matter of changing some coping mechanisms. It was a reaction to the stress of being so close to Escobar yet so still so far. You could change it, you had control. 

You made a coffee, instant and black. It was bitter and disgusting but it would keep you awake. You collapsed onto your tired old couch and flicked on the tv to a telenovela rerun. You barely understood what was going on but the hilarious overplayed drama was light enough to stop you swimming into the depressing pool of thoughts currently threatening to drown you. 

Eight o’clock came and you were ready to go to work. You were used to this routine now, hungover and tired, you knew you weren’t at your best but until this morning nobody knew about your slow descent into chaos. You weren’t surprised to find Javi’s truck gone without you. All you could remember from last night as how mad he was, and his face this morning only proved it. You dreaded seeing him. 

Luckily, you were spared the hassle of public transport by Steve who trundled down the stairs after you and offered you a ride. The conversation was light and everything seemed normal for a moment. You got to work, Steve ran off after a call from Javier leaving you with a mountain of paperwork to hunt through. For once you didn’t care, paperwork didn’t judge you.

A few hours passed and the boys returned. You did your best to ignore them while they bickered, hoping that you could melt into the background, until someone tapped on your desk. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you Rookie,” Javi’s voice made you look up. “Come on, we’re going,” 

Before you could say anything he threw your jacket at you and you had no choice but to follow him outside. You tried to rack your brain for why Javi would be taking you anywhere today, especially after this morning. You had expected him to ground you, to be impossibly angry at you, not take you out. You climbed into the passenger seat of the truck and Javi didn’t say a word. He didn’t look particularly angry, he looked stressed but he had looked like that since the day you got down here. He was silent, letting the radio play between you, when all of a sudden he reached over and turned it off. 

You looked over at him, expecting him to start his lecture but he didn’t. He let the silence sit between you for the rest of the journey. Somehow it was worse, you’d rather he got mad at you and shouted. It was just unsettling.

Finally you pulled into the embassy, you flashed your badges at the gate and parked. Fear was starting to grow now. Was he going to get you fired? He wouldn’t bring you down here for that surely? He would have called and said what he wanted, he hated coming down here unless he had to. You stayed quiet, too scared to ask, and followed him inside. 

Javi greeted the assistant at the door, as smooth as ever somehow managing to melt her in her chair in five seconds. You smiled and waved to her, she scowled at you as soon as Javi had turned his back. 

“He’ll be in a minute,” The girl called after you as you entered the Ambassador’s office. You took one chair, Javier took the other, in front of the large mahogany desk.

Unlike Steve and Javi you didn’t see the ambassador often, often left in the office while they had meetings about things higher than your post. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest you thought it might burst. You rubbed your hands on your jeans and fidgeted in your seat. Why in hell were you here? 

Before you could bring up the courage to finally ask Javi the Ambassador walking into the room. You stood up immediately to shake his hand, Javi stayed seated.

“Y/n, nice to see you again,” The ambassador smiled kindly as he shook your hand. “Agent Peña,” He greeted the agent next to you, who nodded casually.

“You too, Sir,” You tried your best to sound confident. The Ambassador sighed heavily as he sat in the leather chair, took a sip of the water at his side and began the meeting.

“So, I got the call from your coordinators this morning, they’re coming down on Monday for the review. I thought we should have this meeting together to discuss things before they come down,” 

Your six month review! That was what you had forgotten. Half relieved that your mentor hadn’t brought you down here to completely humiliate you, you smiled and nodded. With everything going on you hadn’t noticed the months fly past so fast, you barely remembered what day it was anymore. 

The Ambassador carried on with the meeting, unaware of your panicking. You nodded along, answering his questions in short yes or no answers, he then moved to Javier. As your mentor he was the one in charge of delivering your progress onto your coordinators. You watched him speak, sound not registering anymore. You hoped to god that he wouldn’t throw you under the bus and tell the entire truth, he knew how much this meant to you surely he wouldn’t. 

Nervous, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket. You almost had a heart attack when you felt something inside. A small metal tin, rounded and rusted. You immediately knew what it was and froze. There was coke in your pocket. Javi gave you a sideways glance, as he noticed you stiffen up suddenly. 

You wracked your mind for where the hell the tin had come from, until you remembered. This wasn’t your jacket, Maria had given it to you a few months ago and never asked for it back. You hadn’t worn it before today and had no idea that your friend’s stash lay inside the pockets. You tried to stay rational, tried to listen to the important conversation happening around you but your hand stayed clamped around the drug in your pocket. It would help you concentrate, it could calm you down. You could take it and nobody would notice. 

“I- I’m sorry can you excuse me for a moment?” You blurted out, interrupting the ambassador.  He frowned at you, surprised by your interruption. You had gone white with panic, obviously clutching at something in your pocket but he didn’t think anything of it. He nodded and you ran out the room before he could verbally release you. 

You tried to remain calm as you ran through the halls of the embassy, it seemed like everyone was watching you. They knew exactly what you were doing, they were judging you. You ran into the first women’s bathroom you could find, quickly checked nobody was in any stalls, and locked the door behind you.

Throwing the package on the sink like it was burning through your hand, you stood over it, watching it intensely like it could jump away at any moment. The voice in your head kept tempting you, calling you weak and useless, to do it to get rid of it. Nobody would know if you took it. You’ve given in this far why not do it. It will help you calm down. Take it. 

As if you were possessed, you unwillingly opened the tin and poured the powder onto the surface. There wasn’t much there, barely a pinch full, hardly anything at all. You couldn’t just leave it there now, someone would definitely know it was yours. They all knew why even bother hiding it anyway. You should take it. You were too weak to resist it. Take it.

And you did. The chemical shot straight to your brain giving you the brilliant feeling you had been missing. You sighed in a relief as you felt every anxiety fade from your body. It wasn’t that bad, you feel better with it, the voice in your head said. You weren’t wrong. You did feel better. You looked it too, your cheeks had colour again, you smiled and laughed to yourself as it took hold.

You brushed away the excess powder and unlocked the door. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Javi leaning against the opposite wall. His arms were crossed over his chest, judging you with a cocked eyebrow. He had been waiting for you. You sighed and rolled your eyes immediately walking away from him.

“Don’t stand outside the women's bathroom’s Javi. It's creepy,” You snapped as you passed him. 

“You missed a bit,” Javi commented, following closely behind you. 

“Fuck off,” You grumbled. Despite yourself you wiped your sleeve over your nose. He was right. 

“Shooting up in a bathroom is real low, Rookie, even for you,” He snarled. You continued walking down the hall, ignoring him. You were as angry at your actions as he was but you didn’t have control anymore. You couldn’t stop yourself, “Hey! I’m fucking talking to you,” Javi grabbed your arm and sharply pulled you backwards, pressing your back into the wall and trapping your body between his.

“You’re hurting me!” You complained, shoving him off you with as much force as you could give. It didn’t get you far as he pushed you to the wall again with as much force. Your back slammed against the cold stone hard, no doubt bruising it. 

“Then listen. What the fuck is the matter with you?” He snarled, “Doing that shit here? Or anywhere in fact! You are completely out of control,” You ground your teeth, seething with anger, “Do you have no respect for yourself?” You struggled against him, trying to get away again to avoid the question, Javi held you in place. “Not going to say anything?” You looked away, purposely turning your cheek to him, “Get a fucking grip or I’m sending you home,” He growled. 

You didn’t answer, staring at the patterned tile floor. Finally he gave up. With a grunt he let you go and stalked away down the corridor. 

As he disappeared around the corner, a tidal wave of anger and frustration flooded your system. You kicked the line of chairs next to you, crying out curses as you sent them flying across the corridor. The metal clattered against the stone drawing people out of their offices, they all stood from their doorways and watched you, judging you. You heart hammered in your chest, chest heaving for air and you glared back at them all. You let out a deep breath and turned on your heel, leaving the mess behind you, and walked outside.

Despite himself, Javi had waited for you in the parking lot. You jumped into the passenger seat without a word, slamming the door hard to get your point across. You couldn’t tell if you were sweating from anger or the drugs coursing through you. Neither of you said a word for the journey. Javi had said he needed to, and you weren’t able to string together a coherent sentence for everything you wanted to scream at him yet. 

You were too focussed on the music playing from the stereo to really notice where you were going. The rhythms and lyrics seemed to float around you and soak into your skin. You didn’t see Javi’s furious scowl when you unknowingly started to dance in your seat, something you couldn’t help but do when listening to Columbian radio no matter your mental state. You were having a good time until the car stopped and the music was cut abruptly. Snapping out of your trance you looked around and realised you were at your apartment. 

“Get out. You’re done for today,” Javi said, his voice was eerily calm and you knew to be terrified. Quiet Javi was always the angriest.

“What?” You asked dumbly. 

“Get out!” He leant over you and pushed the door open. You frowned, but slipped out the truck and did as you were told. Javi pulled the door shut behind you and rolled away, leaving you standing on the sidewalk opposite the apartment building completely dumbfounded. 

You were stuck to the sidewalk, staring at the building. The sun beat down on you, scorching your skin yet you couldn’t feel it. You were numb to everything.

Your first thought was to find Maria and get more coke to hide further into yourself and avoid the awful shame creeping up your neck. The speed the thought entered your head petrified you. Your control was slipping through your fingers like sand and your body was screaming to move. Everything inside you told you to give up, that this was the tipping point and you might as well jump because what was the point in pretending anymore. If Javi knew what was the point in trying to cover up how much that narcotic had taken over your life. There was no point at all, you might as well enjoy the feeling whilst you could. 

You turned to leave, letting go of all self control. Your legs knew where to take you, you didn’t even need to look where you were going. But you did, when three steps from your original position you crashed into a woman carrying a bag of groceries. She yelped, the sudden sound snapping you back to reality. 

“What are you doing standing out here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” Connie startled you when she touched you, you had barely noticed her approaching. She frowned, concerned, when she took in your glazed appearance, “Sweetheart?”

“I’m okay,” Your voice cracked as tears filled your eyes. 

“Oh darling, come inside. Come on,” Connie walked across the road, expecting you to follow but you didn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, you wanted to run in the opposite direction. You knew if you went inside you would have to tell her what was happening, you didn’t want to make her as mad as Javi was already. “Y/n? Sweetheart you’re scaring me, what’s wrong?” 

“I fucked it all up,” You whimpered as you began to cry.

“Come with me, I’ll get you some water,” Connie bartered, still you didn’t move. Too scared to admit to her what was going on, “Just come inside, please,” 

Finally, you nodded and followed Connie into the building. She walked you into the apartment, sat you on the couch and left to get a glass of water. You hadn’t stopped crying, everything in you was telling you to go and get more to calm yourself down again. You knew not to believe the thoughts but they scared you tremendously. You have really gone too far now. 

Connie passed you the water, and you drank it gladly. She crouched down in front of you, pressed a hand to your forehead and checked your pulse trying to work out what was wrong with you. 

“Did you take something?” She asked. You tried to shake your head and deny it but the way she’s looking at you, sternly but with so much care in her eyes, you couldn’t lie to her. Your no turns into a yes and you instantly recoil from her each touch, hiding in your hands. “What was it?” 

“It was only meant to help,” You cried into your hands.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened,” She pressed. 

“Maria gave me some coke, and it was fine and fun and it helped me get that list from them,” You started to babble, all your words tumbling from your mouth before you could get them into any sensible order, “and everyone was so excited and then I went out kept doing it and then yesterday I ended up at Javi’s and I was tired and-,” 

“Slow down,” 

“It’s my six month review,  and I got so worried then I found it in my pocket! I didn’t know it was there and I just did it! Then Javi caught me again and he kicked me out here!” 

“Do you know how much you took?” 

“Like a tiny bit but I’ll be fine in an hour but-,” Tears slipped from your eyes once again, “What am I going to do?”

Connie didn’t know what to say. She knew you had been going out more with some new friends, Steve had complained because he was always woken up by you when you came back drunk from a party. That's all she thought was going on, you were partying, drinking, like you should at your age. But as she had come to learn, a lot of things in Columbia were not what they seemed. It seemed the darker side of life here had managed to get it’s claws well and truly into you. It broke her heart to see you like this, so broken up. 

You stayed with Connie for the rest of the afternoon, sat on the couch riding out the end of you high. TV kept you company and Connie chewed her nails trying to work out what to do. She thought should call Steve, but if Javier was the one to drop you off here, he probably already knew. She wondered how long it had been going on for, she didn’t get to see you as much as her husband and his partner, whenever she’d seen you you seemed fine, if a little hungover at times. When she thought about, all three of you had taken on destructive habits to cope with the hell you saw every day. Steve was becoming more aggressive by the week, while she knew she was safe she didn’t like what she saw when he flipped out. Everyone in the building knew about Javier’s escapades and now you. It was upsetting to watch from the outside, she couldn’t imagine what it was really like to go through. 

You woke up half an hour later, muddled and more tired than when you’d fallen asleep. 

“Feeling better?” Connie asked with a sympathetic smile.

“Feel like shit,” You muttered. Your head pounded and the heaviness still sat in your chest. That was the kicker, the coke could mask feelings very well but every time you sobered up they were still there waiting. You sighed heavily, pushing yourself to sit up where you’d slumped over, and rubbed your face with your sweaty palms. “What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know sweetie, but I’ll be here to help you,” Connie said kindly, as she sat on the couch next to you. You felt awful for dragging her into all this, yet another person you had let down, ”I think you should tell your boss? Or you’re coordinators, maybe they’ll help,” 

“I’ll be sent home!” You protested, tears filling your eyes once again, “I don’t want to go home, not now!” 

“You can’t keep it to yourself, it will only get worse,” She said, you nodded sadly and cried on her shoulder as she pulled you in for a hug. “I suggest a hot bath, watch some cheesy movie- I managed to find that Indiana Jones movie on tape. I know you love Harrison Ford,” 

“That sounds nice,” You smiled weakly. Connie let you go and grabbed the movie along with a bottle of wine for you. You gathered yourself together, enough to get yourself from Connie’s couch to your own at least. 

“I’m sure Steve won’t notice it’s gone. Go and chill out and watch the movie, have a bit of normality for a change. You’ll feel better I promise,” 

“Thank you Connie, you’re a really good friend,” 

“It’s no problem sweetie, like I said I’m always here for you,” 

Connie gave you another tight squeeze before you left. Iin the hallway you heard the clatter of Javi’s keys in his door below. You wanted to apologise to him, you wanted him to help you! You wanted things to go back to how they were before all this but you knew Javi wouldn’t talk to you. He’d displayed his distaste for the people that fell under the powder’s spell before, he wasn’t going to help. He had trusted you to sort it out yourself but now it was abundantly clear you couldn’t. 

Once again your brain reminded you how easy it would be to get some more coke to cheer yourself up. You could go downstairs and walk down the street, find one of your friends and be happy again so quickly. You didn’t have to feel this pain. 

This time, you ignored it and locked yourself in your apartment. You took yourself to bed immediately, not even bothering to turn on any lights along the journey through the tiny space. You fell on the bed face first. As soon as your body hit the soft material you curled up as tight as you could and began to cry. 

You had failed. You had let your team down, let your coordinators down, let your classmates down and let your family down. You didn’t even want to think about the conversation you would have to have with your mom as to why you were coming home six months early from a placement you fought so hard to get. You thought you could handle it, but you couldn’t. You failed.

--

Part 2

Translations (disclaimer I'm sorry if these are wrong I've been learning Spanish for all of 3 months hence the limited use)

Abra la puerta - open the door

No lo siento Javi. ¡Es divertido! - I’m not sorry Javi, it’s fun!

Eres enojado - are you angry?

No lo sé - I don’t know

Para!- stop!

Lo siento- I’m sorry

Pero- but

Me vale - I don’t care

The next part will be out next Friday! Want to get tagged? Let me know! 

Tag list: @beskar-tano @buckysbeloved @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @browneyes-djarin @themidnightsun-12​

gunna be cheeky and tag some mutuals i think may be interested? @ithinkwehitametaphor​ @wille-zarr​ 

[passivenovember]

You Look Stupid When You’re Sad.

Steve Harrington smelled of sour patch kids and unbaked cookie dough.

Billy didn't think it was a bad smell, exactly, just weird; intense, heady, and stuck to the walls of his brain. Doughy when the sunlight couldn't dry the track marks of Steve's sweat before nap time, heady when it got into Billy's system and stuck with him like the thrum of his heartbeat.

Wherever Billy went Steve Harrington was there. Like a shadow. A noisy, scrawny, wire-frame glasses wearing shadow that elbowed its way into the chair across from Billy's during lunch and followed him around at recess; three feet behind and always pretending to spot interesting shapes in the clouds when he thought Billy wasn't looking, but.

Billy was always looking.

It was so weird.

Steve was so weird. The way he made bright, happy noises when he was paired with Billy for station time, how he always drug his mat over from the other side of the room to sleep next to Billy when it was time to zonk out after second recess despite knowing that the spot was saved for Barbara, Billy's actual best friend.

She got nightmares and Billy liked to be there to hold her hand while she dreamed but every afternoon, without fail, Steve came wondering over with his lip stuck out in a question.

It was confusing.

Steve was so confusing. The way he hugged his mat to his chest, chin quivering with a little, "Okay. Sorry, Bills." Every time Billy slapped his hand on the carpet and growled that the spot was taken. Occupation, not reserved for pasty-kneed dorks with wire frame glasses, and.

Billy didn't want to make the kid cry, or anything, but he always managed to do just that. Paint himself as a bad guy.

Billy rubbed his forehead as Barb settled in on his left hand side one afternoon after such an altercation, smiling so big her lips disappeared behind the plastic frames of her glasses.

"What's wrong, Stevie?" She asked, and.

Billy tried not to be jealous.

Steve hiccupped, cheeks growing redder by the second. "I wanna nap with you guys but Billy won't let me."

"Hey, that's not--"

"You can sleep with us if you want to. Billy has a really big blanket, maybe he can share with both of us." Barbara looked at him expectantly, like. "Right Billy?"

And it was dumb.

It was so dumb, that they were staring at him with hopeful eyes and Steve's chin was still quivering and Billy didn't want to be the bad guy; he wasn't Mesogog and he didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings, but.

Steve Harrington got under his skin. With his soft hair and big brown eyes, always following Billy around and begging for the space to be made. Billy got clumsy and nervous when Bambi was nearby, and.

The idea of sharing space. Sleeping next to Steve with his chirpy little noises and warm soft hands, it.

Made Billy feel like he was breaking out in itchy red bumps.

No.

He would stick to his guns; the blanket just wasn't big enough for three people. But then, Billy's grumpy brain supplied, Steve could steal Barbara and keep her as his own best friend if Billy didn't let him stay, so. It was time to cut his losses.

"God, you look stupid when you're sad." Billy muttered.

Steve started crying again.

Billy really wished he'd stop that.

"I'm sorry, Billy. I know I'm dumb but I don't mean to be." Steve whimpered. He tucked his mat under his arm and made to get up.

And leave.

As if Billy would let Steve make him look bad in front of everyone, especially Barbara.

"Lay down, dork." Billy grumbled, tugging the blanket up around his shoulders and peeling it back for Steve reluctantly.

Harrington's smile was so bright it could've melted crayons when he settled in close, chirping happily as Billy pulled the blanket around them and tucked in on impulse. The room went dark, Mr. Talamantez reminding them to count butterflies if sleep wouldn't come.

It didn't.

Steve smelled too much like cream and sugar for Billy to get any rest at all.

--

"Whatcha making, Billy?" Steve asked, pink tongue poking out in concentration as he peered over Billy's arm at his art project.

A stack of pink and red construction paper was Billy's favorite thing in the world because it meant endless possibilities. Pink was soft and sweet, red was passionate and cool. Like hot wheels and firetrucks and hearts full of warm oven mitts, so.

He pulled the leaflets from his backpack during circle time and got busy, carefully folding the delicate paper hamburger style and then tracing swirly, dramatic lines for each heart on the page.

Valentines was Billy's most favorite day of the year.

Even more than Christmas, even more than his birthday, and only a little bit more than Halloween because on Valentines? The whole universe was covered in flowers and little tin wrapped chocolates and love hearts were the best thing for a kid to make with scissors.

Billy ignored Steve's tongue, turning his shoulders to the room. "I'm making love hearts."

"For who?"

"None of your beeswax."

"Okay," Steve said happily, grabbing a handful of markers and re-situating himself much closer than Billy would've liked. Steve's Nike's tapped the itsy-bitsy-spider on the rug as he declared, "I'm drawing batman on a surfboard!"

And Billy tossed aside his first ruined Valentine. "Oh cool, I don't remember asking."

"That's okay," Steve giggled. "Sometimes I get motor mouth. My Daddy says it's 'cause I'm a fruit."

"My daddy called me that sometimes before he got sick." Billy turned to glare at him. "That's not a good thing."

"It is to me!" Steve giggled again. He was always doing that. "I like Kiwis. My mommy packed some for lunch and I had them for breakfast. They're yummy in geek yogurt. They make me smile because they have beards!"

Steve cackled like kiwi's having beards was the funniest thing on earth and Billy wondered what there was to be so happy about.

He tried not to smile at Steve's dumb face. "I think you mean Greek yogurt."

"Yeah, probably. If I'm like a kiwi, that's alright, I think." Steve's tongue poked out again. "Surfboards make me think of you." He declared, and.

Steve smelled like toasted chocolate on s'mores, his hands somehow kicking up more of his sugary sweet odor each time he reached for a new piece of paper. Billy didn't know how he was supposed to get anything done when his circle buddy smelled like a chocolate birthday cake.

It was kinda gross.

Billy pulled out a sliver marker and traced Stinky Butt Max on one of the smaller Valentines, remembering to fold down the corners so the sensitive skin on her palms wouldn't get hurt when she inevitably started smacking him it.

The pink Valentine looked more like a chewed up Starburst gummy this way, but. Max wouldn't know the difference.

Steve peered over his shoulder again, cooing softly. Like a baby dove. "That ones pretty, Bills! Is Max your Valentine?"

"Ew," Billy wrinkled his nose like he sometimes did when Max needed a diaper change. "She's my baby sister, don't be an Ick Monster."

"What's an Ick Monster?"

"Somebody who makes weird jokes and says weird things, so." Billy shrugged, scrawling his mothers name on a second love heart. He poked Steve's tummy with his marker. "That's you, I think."

Steve giggled before slapping Billy's hand away, and. Watching him work.

After a while Steve inched closer. "So you don't have a Valentine?" He wondered, and.

Billy didn't understand the question. "Mr. Talamantez said we're all each other's Valentines so nobody feels sad."

"Yeah, but. Everybody has someone they want to smooch on Valentines." Steve started playing with his hair, fingers twisting waves in a sea of brown, like they sometimes did when he was nervous. "Someone they like best-best. Better than all the other kids."

Now it was Billy's turn to giggle. "That's icky."

"Smooching?" Steve's eyes sparkled. "It's fun sometimes."

"Like you've ever kissed anyone."

Steve looked offended. "Have too."

"Have not."

"Have too," Steve pouted, crossing his arms.

Billy began work on a third Valentine. "Who did you kiss?"

"Nancy Wheeler."

Billy snorted, not sure if he wanted to imagine Steve kissing Nancy Wheeler, or. Kissing at all.

Steve's chin started quivering. "You don't believe me?"

"No." Billy said lightly, capping the marker with a sniff.

Kissing was not fun. It was wet and violent and looked like it maybe hurt a little bit, the way he'd seen his mom and Susan kiss when he got up to go potty at night. Billy regarded Steve through easy, narrowed eyes; Steve wasn't the kind of boy who kissed like that.

"How come you're so weird?" Billy wondered.

"I like being weird." Steve said, reaching for a green marker to color in his surfboard. Steve nodded at the small pile of Valentine's strewn on the carpet between them. "You should put the love hearts on foam when you're done."

"I was already gonna do that, genius."

Billy wasn't already going to do that, but he'd eat a centipede before he let Harrington know he came up with a good idea.

"They could be superhero colors!" Steve hollered suddenly. He was so loud all the time. "That way your mommy and sissy can know that you love them because they're cool. Like Aqua-man."

Billy frowned, watching Steve fold his Batman drawing over and over again until it all but disappeared from sight. He leaned back against the wall with an eye roll, shocked out how much Harrington lacked any concept of taste, or.

Shame.

"Aqua-man isn't cool," Billy said. Because Aqua-man wasn't, he was like. The lamest of them all. "His only power is making the bad guys drown, at least the other heroes can punch really hard."

"Punching isn't always the best, though." Steve tucked Batman into the front pocket of his shirt, leaning into Billy's space. "Sometimes punching just makes the bad guys stronger. Like Wilson Fisk."

Billy frowned. "Punching works for Spiderman."

Steve considered this fact, pink tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth again. He thought really hard for a long time, as if Steve didn't have Spiderman socks on everyday at recess when he removed his Nike's to fill them with rocks.

Such a weird guy.

Finally, Steve smiled. "I like water, though. Your eyes are like water. From the fountain in the hallway, and like the lake at camp." Steve pushed his way into Billy's space, frowning with his head cocked to the side like there was more thinking to cross of the list. "You're very pretty, Billy. Like a cloud."

And.

Billy didn't have the words to articulate the way Steve's smell went a little crazy after that, like a bag of powdered sugar had caught fire from a signal light once he realized what he'd said. Billy waited for Steve to take it back, because.

Boys calling other boys pretty wasn't allowed in Mr. Talamantez' classroom, or. Anywhere else.

Steve didn't take it back.

"You wouldn't like Aqua-Man's water, 'cause you'd drown." Billy said, getting back to work on his Valentines if only for a distraction from the way Steve was watching him. "He doesn't control his power very well and sometimes the mean guys get hurt real bad."

Steve kept right on talking. "I wouldn't be a mean guy though," He reasoned, sliding impossibly closer on the alphabet rug. "I'd help him fight crimes. Like Captain Underpants!"

And.

Billy had nothing to say to that, sucked in and drowning by the way Steve's eyes were glittering.

"You're a weird guy, you know?" Billy breathed.

Steve's giggle went right to Billy's tummy, teaching it to do backflips, somehow.

"That's okay." Steve said, reaching back for a fresh piece of paper. "You'll remember me better and maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine."

Steve's hair fell across his eyes, head bopping along to whatever song he was singing to himself today. His lips glittered like a frosted donut. Like he'd been eating a strawberry ice cream cone instead of confusing all the boys around him.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

Huh.

Billy started work on a new love heart and pretended not to notice.

--

On Tuesday morning Billy woke to the smell of pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice.

Maxine was already up.

Her long red hair was piled on top of her head in two Princess Leia buns. Susan had put in little heart clips and the pink dress Billy's mommy had made special was already covered in mashed banana and something that looked like magic marker.

She was all ready for Valentines day.

Billy didn't understand why they bothered trying to make her look dainty when Max was more interested in destroying Billy's favorite toys and starting fires.

She sat on the floor of the room they shared together, sucking her thumb and playing with Billy's favorite race car. Her wet, chubby fingers made the blue Camaro shine brightly with spit and Billy felt like his face was burning up.

"Hey," He said, rubbing at his eyes. "Hey, you're getting spit all over my--"

"Race car!"

Max held it out to him triumphantly. Billy frowned, moving to grab it from her chubby little fist. "I know that's my race--"

"It's a blue car," Max said thoughtfully. She looked at him, like, "Blue cars are my favorite."

"It's my favorite too--"

"Can we share?" Max wondered, putting the little wheels on Billy's knee and letting the car zoom back and forth. He imagined that Evel Knievel was in the drivers seat wondering why his car wasn't first in the race.

She looked happy, like always, to be playing with Billy's toys.

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess we can share. It's Valentine's Day."

Max seemed to enjoy that. "I like today!"

"You do?"

"Yup," She said happily, little chubby fingers tangling in Billy's hair because he hadn't brushed it yet. "Candy and sour gummy worms and kisses from cute boys!"

Billy glared. "You're kissing cute boys?"

"Uh-huh!" Max hollered. "Lucas gave me a dandelion."

Billy thought long and hard.

About Valentines Day and all the things that came with it. The pink shirt that hung pressed in his closet, fresh cupcakes with plastic rings, a bag of Scooby-doo Valentines Susan had picked up at the market for all his classmates, homemade love hearts at the bottom of his backpack. Three with red foam, one with a delicate lace doily, and.

Kisses.

Max was getting flowers and kisses from a boy.

From someone special.

Billy took the race car from Max's hand and drove it around, thinking about boys with brown eyes and soft hands.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

"Wanna eat some breakfast, Max?"

"I had 'nanas." She said with a smirk.

Billy hummed, standing to get dressed. "Mama probably made chocolate chip pancakes, you don't wanna eat something special?"

Max's little red eyebrows pinched together. "I can have yours?"

And.

Billy didn't know what was so necessary to her about taking everything that was his. Playing with his toys, sleeping in his pj's, eating his breakfast, it was like Max didn't know how take something and make it her own.

Billy pulled the pink shirt over his head, feeling every bit like a turtle when Max did the same with the collar of her dress.

"You can have my pancakes." Billy concluded, puffing out his chest. "If you'll be my Valentine."

"You don't have a boy to kiss?"

"I might," Billy picked the race car off the ground with a smile. "This is practice for when I see him at school. So, will you be my Valentine?"

She thought about it.

Long and hard, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, before nodding with her entire body. "I think he will."

Billy sighed. "Really?"

"If you give him sour gummy worms and smooch his forehead he will," Max said.

And.

Maybe things would turn out okay. Billy nodded, grabbing the race car and driving it across Max's forehead, careful that the little plastic wheels didn't get stuck in her hair.

--

From the stucco ceiling of the classroom beautiful strands of silver and gold hearts painted a mirage of stars.

All the desks had a rose and a cardboard mailbox intended for the delivery of Valentines and at the center of the room a table filled with cupcakes and strawberry Capri-sun packets. Preparation for the party this afternoon, and.

Mr. Talamantez had turned their space into a glittering, perfect fairytale.

Billy hugged his basket of Valentines close to his chest and tried not to search for Steve before dropping his backpack at the cubby station.

He was right in the middle of tugging his special sweater down over his head when Barbara scooted in next to him, pretty in a little pink jumpsuit.

She handed him a tiny, delicate giftbag full of chocolate hearts and dinosaur erasers, smiling from ear to ear as Billy hugged her nice and tight before handing off something he had made special. A tiny paper crane his mommy helped him fold, and a bunch of rainbow goldfish sat nestled in a basket of paper Mache.

They were her favorite snack in the whole world and Barbara was Billy's favorite person, so it seemed fitting.

She hugged him and Billy smiled, peering around the room for a head of wavy brown hair. "We could share our presents with Steve," He muttered, like. It wasn't a big deal or anything. Billy tugged on the sleeves of his red sweater and tried to stay cool. "Where is he?"

Barbara pointed to the book shelves.

Steve was sat under a string of twinkly lights, shoulders tucked against the pillows Mr. Talamantez set aside for circle time. His face was buried in the crook of his elbow, and.

He was crying.

Of course he was crying.

Billy felt the Valentine in his pocket grow heavy.

Barbara said, "Steve broke his glasses, maybe you could make him smile?"

And.

Billy wanted to do that. Longed to make Steve giggle and chirp with happiness like the annoying little Meadowlark he seemed be. It would be so easy to. Walk over there, tap Steve's shoulder, and say the words.

Pose the question.

Will you be my Valentine?

Steve was making huffy, nervous little noises when Billy came to a stop beside him.

"Hey Harrington, playing with all your friends?" Billy sneered, confident that Steve would giggle like he was did, but.

When he finally turned around his face was red and puffy. As if he'd been crying all morning and all night, too.

"What do you want, Billy?" Steve whispered.

He sounded sleepy. Spread thin, like the last spoonful of jam on burned toast.

"What's wrong?" Billy asked carefully. "What happened?"

Steve sat and rubbed at his eyes, chin wobbling as more tears spilled over. "My daddy broke my glasses." He whispered.

And Billy hated it.

He always hated when Steve cried but today. Right now, he.

Felt like he had to do something about it.

Billy took the love heart from his pocket and sat down next to Steve, cuddling back into the pillows until their shoulders were touching. It took all of five seconds for Steve to settle in next to him. Roll his head back against the wall until he was looking at Billy with a question in his eyes.

Steve looked at Billy's shoulder and back up at his face, like.

"Can I--"

"Come here, stupid." Billy grumbled, Pulling Steve in until they were cuddling on the pillows.

Steve chirped. It wasn't his usual sound, light and airy, it was.

Thick.

And heavy.

Like a blanket sopped with rain water. Steve buried his face in Billy's neck. "I don't have any Valentines to give this year."

"That's okay."

"I made something special for you," Steve whispered, pulling back to study Billy's face. "I know Mr. Talamantez said we weren't supposed to, but--"

"Will you be my Valentine?" Billy's stupid mouth said.

Steve blinked at him, and.

Billy wanted to hide in the bathroom for thousand years.

Steve pulled away to sit crisscross-applesauce. Facing Billy, like this was something important. "Huh?"

Billy mirrored him, tucking his hands away so they wouldn't shake when he held out the love heart.

It was pink. Big and bright and outlined with a white doily that Susan helped him glue around the edges. Billy had dug through Max's box of stickers for the one with Winne the Pooh, the one he'd been saving for someone special. Winnie was covered in tiny valentines, eating right out of a jar of honey with a butterfly sitting on his nose, and.

Billy had thought it was perfect.

He worked for hours on the font. The saying that made his mommy laugh when he read it to her; you're bear-y sweet. Be my Valentine.

Steve took the love heart in his hands, and.

Didn't say anything.

Billy frowned. "I just. Remember you asked me to be your Valentine, or. For you to be mine. And--" His hands were shaking again. "It's stupid. God, this is--"

Steve leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

It was gentle. Like the brush of butterfly wings, barely there and then gone before Billy had a chance to really register the movement, or. Think about what it could mean.

Steve wasn't crying anymore when he said, "I'll be your Valentine."

Billy's brain took a minute to catch up. "Huh?"

"I'll be your Valentine, Billy." Steve giggled, staring down at the love heart once more. "This is so cute. I loved Winnie the Pooh when I was a baby. My mom always put me in footie pajamas that had Eeyore on them. And tinker bell too, sometimes. You could've put the Red power ranger on there instead. He's my favorite--"

Billy sat back against the pillows.

He was learning that Steve Harrington was weird.

Like a puzzle with one piece missing, or. An empty tube of bubble mix. Steve was colorful and loud and all over the place with opinions. He shined bright and loved hard, and.

Sometimes it was best to sit back and listen.

--

Happy Valentines Day!!

I really just sat down and wrote this. Wow. Anyway--thank you for reading and supporting my work. Your comments and endless kindness keep me going when I don't always feel like trucking on, and I wanted to do something to remind you that if this was an elementary school classroom I would give you so many lollipops.

[moonstruckbucky]

Say Love [one shot]

Summary: You and Bucky are at a stand-still in your relationship, all because neither of you can say three little words.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: Idiots in love, a smidge of angst, the rest is fluff.

Notes: So this is a fun fic, but it’s also a very real fic. I know I’ve had that should-I-shouldn’t-I when it comes to saying the L word in a relationship, so this is for anyone that’s had that struggle. Enjoy & let me know what you think! x

P.S. - it’s also a birthday present to @captain-kelli aka MY WIFE 💕

It’s palpable, the tension. A smothering, suffocating heavy cloud stretching between the two of you, and you almost wonder how you got here, to this hurdle in your relationship.

It builds like an avalanche - a tiny, harmless snowball that’s picked up speed as it rolls, rolls, rolls, until it’s so big you can’t be in the same room as him without feeling like you’re walking on eggshells.

Even now, on a night meant for the two of you, you feel distanced from him - despite sitting beside each other on the couch. You’re pressed up against his side, It’s a Wonderful Life playing on the screen - a favorite of Bucky’s. It’s supposed to be a bonding time for you, but you’ve never felt so far away from him.

His arm is around you, but it’s stiff, and where his fingers would normally dance across your skin, raise goosebumps in their wake, now they’re still, limp. Careless.

And despite the movie being a favorite, he looks utterly bored when you peek up at him from under your lashes. Eyes vacant, fingers of his vibranium hand holding up his head, teeth chewing on his bottom lip. 

You wonder if he feels it too, this mountain that’s suddenly erected between you.

You’ve been dating eight months - is he bored with you already? Disinterested? “Just not feeling it anymore”? Is he too afraid of hurting you, and it’s why he hasn’t said anything yet? Is he waiting for you to get fed up and leave?

Because you won’t, you can’t. Despite this emotional gap between you, you feel a connection to him you haven’t felt before. He’s level-headed where you can be chaotic - being an Avenger is probably to thank for that - and he’s soft spoken despite his large, often gruff exterior.

He’s a perfect counterbalance to who you are - how could you not fall in love with him almost as soon as you met him?

Part of you believes that if Bucky didn’t want to be with you, he wouldn’t. He’s sure of himself, thanks to the hard work he’s done for himself since being officially recruited as an Avenger. He’d told you a little of how difficult it had been - in the 30s and 40s, people didn’t openly talk about their struggles, least of all with a psychologist; they just lived with them. 

It only made you fall for him even harder, for the sheer strength he has and the determination to come to grips with what’s happened to him.

But it seems those feelings are one-sided, and the revelation sits like lead in your stomach. With pressure building behind your eyes, you fake a yawn.

“I think I should go,” you mutter, thankful that your voice doesn’t crack. Bucky turns his eyes to you, wide and - is that disappointment?

“Oh, yeah, okay. I’ll call you a cab?”

You stand up with a shake of your head. “Not necessary, I’ll get an Uber on my way down.”

He walks you to the elevator, hands in his pockets and feeling awkward. The kiss you share is quick, chaste, and stiff, much like the rest of your evening tonight. When you turn your back to him to enter the elevator, your chin wobbles.

Bucky stands in the hallway for a while after you’ve gone, his thoughts running away from him. He can’t be the only one between you who felt that distance, could he?

Have you changed your mind about him? Realized the former Winter Soldier isn’t who you want to give your heart to? Perhaps all the atrocities he’s committed are truly too much for you to handle.

He couldn’t blame you if they were and yet... You own his entire being, body and soul. If you were to leave him, a large part of him would go with you, a piece he isn’t sure he’d be able to get back. 

He knows you noticed his demeanor tonight, the way he hid behind himself in an effort of self-preservation. He nearly made himself bleed from biting his tongue so hard to keep three words he didn’t think he’d ever say from slipping out. He didn’t want to scare you, to make you run off,

but it seems he managed to do that anyways.

Bucky leans forward, bonks his head on the elevator once, twice, three times before a door opening behind him makes him pause.

“Are you done brooding yet?”

Bucky’s shoulders drop, in no mood for Sam’s ribbing. The man teases out of love and respect - it’s just how their relationship is - but tonight, he can’t bring himself to return the dig. He turns away from the elevator, shoulders up to his ears and hands still in his pockets.

Sam’s face changes when he takes in Bucky’s posture, and he sighs, leaning up against the frame of his door.

“What’s up, Tin Man?” he prods gently. 

Bucky’s eyes find a place just over Sam’s shoulder, torn between opening up to Sam about the turn his relationship has taken and remaining silent, attempt to sort through it himself.

A helpless look at Sam, and the dark-skinned man opens the door wider, turning to the side to allow Bucky entrance.

“Talk to me, man. You look like someone kicked your dog.”

Sam offers Bucky a seat on his couch, an expensive, black leather that feels as cushy as a cloud. The man leans back, crosses his arms over his chest. The black metal of his arm catches the low lighting in Sam’s room, turns the gold bronze.

“I think she’s going to break up with me,” he starts, and before he knows it he’s spilling all of his insecurities to Sam. The other man listens patiently, cocking his head curiously at some parts and pursing his lips for others.

Bucky half-expects the man to jab at him - joke about how she finally realized what a mess he is - but to his surprise (and relief; he has enough self-hatred for both of them), Sam nods sagely and looks almost empathetic. It would throw Bucky for a loop, if he and Sam haven’t come to some middle ground.

Steve would be so proud of them.

“Then she’s not worth it, Buck,” comes Sam’s response almost immediately after Bucky’s finished. The brunet’s eyes go wide. “If she can’t handle you as you are, if that’s too much for her, then it isn’t worth it. I like her, man, but I like you a lot better, and you deserve somebody who’s going to take your baggage, embrace it, accept it, and help make you better for it. And you shouldn’t have to settle for anything less.”

Bucky wants to argue, say that you are absolutely worth it, but the words get stuck in his throat. He knows Sam is right, acknowledges that yes, he has more baggage than most, but also that he does deserve someone who’ll accept him regardless of it.

But haven’t you? Eight months in and Bucky had been sure you’d accepted him for who he had been, not just who he is now. But perhaps you’d changed your mind. Perhaps you’d thought long and hard over it and realized a broken soldier wasn’t who you wanted at all.

He couldn’t blame you, but it still hurts to think about.

“I think you need to talk to her,” Sam continues, watching the emotions play out over Bucky’s face - shock, sadness, realization, and finally, utter heartbreak. Sam feels no pleasure whatsoever in telling Bucky this, but he’s never one to beat around the bush. His years as a VA counselor wouldn’t let him.

“Talk to her, and find out where her head’s at. It’s the only way you’re going to know.”

You don’t talk to Bucky for two weeks. After leaving the Avengers compound, you thought it best to distance yourself, prepare your heart for the eventuality that Bucky would break it off. But it’s even worse that he doesn’t contact you at all, and you begin to resent it.

Bitterness ekes into everything you say and do, your very being so clouded by resentment you’re not even sure who you are anymore. You don’t recognize yourself or the cynicism your attitude seems to have adopted. 

You hate it.

In a whirlwind of anger, resentment, and self-loathing, you drive to the compound. Flash the card Bucky had given you for access whenever he didn’t come pick you up himself. The gate rolls open, and your heart pounds with the notion that this might be the last time you'll ever see it.

You take the elevator up to Bucky’s floor, hands twisting together as you sort through every thought you’ve had in the past two weeks. Doing so reignites your anger, puts a scowl on your face that could curdle milk.

Bucky’s surprised to see you - even more so to see that look on your face - when he opens his door after you’ve slammed your fist against it.

“What the fuck is going on, Bucky?” you demand, and he winces, steps aside and waves you in so that the two of you don’t draw attention.

His shoulders hunch, hands sliding into his pockets - a clear sign that he’s feeling out of his element and is trying to make himself very, very small. In the space of his bedroom, your anger cools a little, fond memories of time spent in the space taking you over.

“Are we over?” you ask, outright, and Bucky’s head snaps up in alarm. “I mean, did I miss any hints you might’ve been dropping? Am I just making a fool of myself by being here, trying to fix this?”

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, rendered speechless and dumb by your questioning. It isn’t what he’d been expecting, and it’s caught him off guard.

“I- what?” He shakes his head as your eyes turn sad and manages to connect his brain to his mouth. “Where the hell did you get that idea?”

Eyes going steely, you straighten your shoulders. “Well, considering you acted like you’d rather have been anywhere else but with me the last time we saw each other, paired with the fact I haven’t heard from you in two weeks? What am I supposed to think?”

He laughs shortly, incredulous, until your eyes flare up in anger again, and he reins it in, but only just. He just can’t believe what he’s hearing from you, how all this time he thought you were bored of him - or scared. Either way, the relief warming his chest keeps the smile on his face.

Your posture is rigid and you move to take a step back as he closes the distance, but his arms wrap around you and tug you into his chest. The kiss he lays on you is firm but warm, an outpouring of emotion that slowly destroys the wall you’ve erected just to face him.

His hands are warm, even the metal appendage, where he grasps your face to keep you close to him. He sighs when your arms wrap around his waist, hands gliding up to his shoulders to grasp his shirt, and he swallows the little whimper you let loose. 

Until he tastes the salt on your lips and he pulls away.

Your eyes are glassy, tears leaking from the corners to slide glistening tracks down your cheeks. His thumbs brush them away as he smiles softly.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry,” he coos. He kisses you again before looking you in the eye. He wants to make sure you know he means every word. “I’m sorry I was a little emotionally constipated. I- I felt it, too, that weird air the last time you were here, and I thought you - I thought you had changed your mind about me, about us, and that you were just too shy to say anything. So I gave you your space even though it nearly killed me to do it. I thought it was what you wanted, but clearly I was wrong.”

Bottom lip trembling, you sniffle and wipe your nose on your sleeve. “No, I... I could have called. I know you felt a little off that night, too. I was just. I didn’t know how much I could push, if you even wanted that conversation at all. I guess I just thought it was your way of saying you were done with me.”

He chuckles, deep and reverberating, and he shakes his head. “Never gonna happen. I love you too much.”

He enjoys the change on your face - the surprise and then the utter elation - and he grins like the cat that ate the canary.

“You what?”

Bucky isn’t sure why he’d been so scared to say it before, not when you’re looking at him like he’s the center of your universe. 

“I love you,” he repeats, punctuating it with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “And I should’ve said it sooner, especially if you were having doubts.”

He’s entranced by the way you chew your lip thoughtfully, shrug a shoulder shyly. “I could’ve said it, too. I love you, Bucky.”

The smile that breaks upon his face is blinding, radiant. This man was born to smile like this all the time. And he’s mine, you think. He’s all mine.

You giggle, tuck your face into his neck as you shake your head. Still grinning, he holds you tight, chuckles in kind when you say, “We’re idiots.”

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “But idiots in love.”

[mxvladdy]

More than just a flirt

John Hancock X OC

Hi hi! My smut hand be rusty but nothing like completely self indulgent OC smut to bring me back :)

So I’m still new to tagging and the like but my Fallout 4 OC is GN but I do insinuate female genitals. Soooo ye *finger guns* 

If ya read it I hope a like it! 

John was a flirt; that’s all he ever could be. He was charming. He was witty. He was an adventure covered in an oversized trench coat. What bed partners he had came for one thing. The experience. The ability to boast loudly about fuckin’ a ghoul. Like it was a damn badge of honor. His whole life had been a stream of one night stands, and cold beds. That's all he ever could be. That’s all he ever would be.

So then why did he wake up so warm?

Cracking an eye open John reached behind him searching blindly for what was heating his back. His burned fingers were a complete contrast to the soft flesh that greeted him. Slowly, he traces down it, following the flow of the dark muscular till he is holding on to an arm wrapped around his middle.

“Morin’.” His bed partner huffs in his ear. Chestnut curls tickle his cheek as they hug him closer. Whiskey and melon sweet breath bringing back memories of their lips against his. Last night clicks in place. Ophelia. John rose quickly as if burned. This was wrong, they are a friend. A good friend, a trustworthy hardworking leader. They deserved better than-than…

“John?” Ophelia rose uncaring of how the blankets slipped from their arms. Old fabric pooling around their bare waist. They rub at their eyes wearily. “You ok?”

He froze at the edge of the mattress. Long fingers reaching for his pants on a very recognizable floor. He was in Ophelia’s room; or rather this was their hotel room. Damn. He couldn't remember a thing from last night. What did he take? Fuck. He could kick himself. Of all the one-nighters, he wanted to at least remember this one. “Ye doll, sorry...just didn't wanna wake ya.” He smiles, covering his momentary panic.

Ophelia frowned, sleepy hazel eyes narrowing into a familiar piercing glaze. They size him up. Reading him better than anyone ever had before. John couldn’t help but squirm. They looked at him just like when they had first met. Strong jaw tense and their chin high, silently calling out his bullshit.

“I'm fine, honest. Didn't expect to see you is all.” Hancock tried again tugging on his pants.

“In my own room?” His friend snorts, rising to go open the curtains. “Where else would I be?”

John is silent. “I don’t know. Not here-with me.” He keeps his back turned. It was stupid to linger. The warm tingling of their soft body seeps down into the floorboards leaving him aching and cold. Staring at his irradiated hands he could almost cry. Almost- his tear ducts had been scarred shut years ago.  

“John?” Ophelia comes within arms reach. He could sense their hand hovering close to his own boney shoulder. They drop it moments later. “You sure you’re ok? You coming down from a bad trip or somethin’?” John chuckles humorlessly. Was he that predictable? Stepping away from them he finishes dressing.  

“Ye sunshine. Don’t worry about it. Ain’t my first time and sure as hell won’t be my last.” He tosses out over his shoulder. “I’ll give ya a minute ta get ready and meet you out front.”

If Ophelia had anything to say after that they kept between their pretty little lips.

“I think we should head for shelter.” Ophelia says, looking up from the fallen mutant. Their arms filled with loot. John follows their gaze. His black eyes reflect the eerie shade of green growing in the sky. Rad storm. Looked like a big one too. He lights a cigarette and sticks it between his grimy teeth before helping collect a few more useful items.

“Closest place is probably that supermarket couple o’ klicks back.” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. If they hoof it they could probably get there and pick off any ferals before the worst of the storm hit. Ophelia sighs, John knew how much they hated backtracking. The decision was made for them when their pip-boy starts clicking in warning.

“Well-” They frown, throwing a glance back at the ghoul. “You alright with taking two steps forward and ten steps back?” John laughs, tipping his tricorn up to flash them a quick wink.

“Shit doll- You just summed up my life in a sentence.” Offering a hand he helps the sharpshooter over some loose rubble. “You keep an eye out K? I know you’re low on ammo so I’ll take point.” Ophelia nods. Their sniper rifle slung uselessly across their back. Readying his shotgun John follows behind.

The storm hit just when he had expected. Dropping rain and hunks of debris on the two as they struggle to close the supermarket doors against the high winds. Thanks to their combined dumb luck the place was empty. The sentry bots long since destroyed and even a few tins of food were still scattered about the aisle. Ophelia left him to collect some and scout out any hidden lock boxes, leaving him to set up the sleeping bags and start a small fire. Cracking open a room-temperature beer he stares idly into the flicking flames. It grew steadily as he fed it bits of cardboard and kindling. The yellow glow touches his skin and starts to dry his drenched clothes. John contemplates his predicament while he waits for Ophelia to return. The memories of last night slowly start to come back to him in the silence. The tastes, and smells of washed sheets and sweating skin permeate his senses. Ophelia’s sweet mewls and gasps echo around in between his ears. Who gave them the right to make his name sound so sweet?

Shit-He knew he shouldn’t dwell on it. First rule of one-nighters is to live in the moment then walk away clean. But damn if he wasn’t the worst at following rules.

He relives it all the best he can, parts still blurring and blocked, like a scratch in a holotape. But he’ll take it. He’ll take the phantom feel of strong, sure fingers mapping his body. The ghost of a tongue slipping against his. Washing away the taste of mentats and cheap drinks. He can’t remember the last time he had felt so warm and wanted. Made the sudden distance he put between them hurt even more. Fuck him for getting greedy.

John flicks the butt of his cigarette into the roaring flames and searches for another. He grumbles in irritation as each pocket bears no fruit. “Here. I got some.” A familiar red and white box appears in his peripheral. Ophelia’s chipped yellow nail polish clashing with the old carton.

“Thanks, sunshine.” He rasps, taking the box. He can’t bear looking up for the crumbled container. The thought of making eye contact with them while his blood and brains were living in his trousers seemed unholy. Pulling out the least damaged cigarette of the lot he lights it with a practiced flick of his wrist. “Found anything good?”

They shrug, putting a few cans of beans and corn in the growing amount of embers around the fire pit to heat. “Some ammo and super glue. Also-” They grin, forcing him to look up. “Got you a present.” They pull a bottle out from behind their back to brandish it at him triumphantly. He stares. Not at the bottle, but at the way that little pull of muscle brightens up their whole face. That signature gapped tooth smile warming him better than the beer and firelight combined. He reaches numbly for the bottle. A Nuka-Cola Quantum, the chill of the bottle a welcomed surprise.

He and the rest of the crew had learned over the years not to reject a gift, no matter how valuable. MacCready nearly had a heart attack when he was gifted with a shiny new sniper rifle. That pretty little custom piece came with all the bells and whistles. Not to mention a few boxes of specialized ammo. John had zoned out when the other man started rambling rapid-fire over specs clutching the gun to him like a newborn. Each of the core companions got some good shit from time to time. He had some absolutely sinful blades and an old bottle of pre war bourbon tucked away in his office. Valentine had gotten some fantastic upgrades to his hardware and repairs to his offices. Hell- Curie got a whole bloody body.

Can’t beat these job perks.  

“What’s the occasion?” He pops the cap off with the blunt end of his pocket knife, taking a pull from the bottle. The rush of sugar and god knows what else damping his headache.

Ophelia shrugs from across the pit. Pulling off their worn boots to warm their feet by the fire. “I remember you said they perk you up after a particularly bad crash.” They pause, face closing down for a moment, before looking up in horror. “I would have thought- I mean. I- you-I hope I didn’t do anything last night that upset you. I know you were a bit buzzed and I was way past tipsy. But, if I stepped out of line you would tell me right ?” John looks at them beyond confused.

"What?" He asks dumbly.

" Is," Ophelia waves vaguely at the distance between them. Normally when they camped together they were thick as thieves. Joking and nudging at each other's shoulders. Others used to joke about them getting a room. Now it felt like a great chasm had opened between them. "all of this about last night."

"Oh. Nah. Don't gotta worry none doll." John shrugs. Best to rip the bandage off now then later. "It's in the past, best leave it there. " He lies. It burns his throat worse than jet, but he has to. If only to protect his crumbling pride. One day he'll believe his own words. Hopefully.

"Well I am worried. How 'bout we start over. What’s wrong?" Ophelia jabs.

John feels heat rise under his thick skin. Just pokin’ a fresh cut tonight huh..."Kinda hard to start over after having someone's dick down your throat." He tosses it out carelessly. A shit attempt to derail the coming train wreck. Ophelia doesn't even flinch.

"Well, it's a damn good thing we both know how flexible I am then.” They rebuttal smoothly. “So, I'll ask again. What’s. Wrong?" The ghoul shrinks under their heated look. He was never keen on being hit with these eyes. Meant another kinda storm was brewing.

John throws his hands up in frustration. Had they never heard the phrase 'read the room'. "What, ya never had a one nighter before?" He regrets it the second the words leave his lips. He'd never seen someone flinch from words before. "Look, doll, I ain't one for making things awkward. I know the rules so let's just forget it and move on."

Ophelia deflates. Their signature look that could pin a super mutant in fight extinguished just like that. John watches them mouth over his words slowly. Clearly hating the taste of them as much as he did. "Is- was that what you wanted out of it?" Ophelia sighs. They dig a hand through sweat tangled locks. The tight coils of their hair protesting the drag of their fingers. His own fingers itch watching them, remembering the feel of their hair wrapped around his hand as he pulled them in for a kiss.

"What did you want out of it?" He asks, feeling dumber than a radroach.

Ophelia mimics him, throwing their hands up with a short laugh. "John, I thought it was clear. I don't go sleeping around with my friends and colleagues for shits and giggles. Who do I always ask to join me on travels?"

“Dogmeat?” John jokes, the knot in his stomach loosening with hope. It's unimaginable really- and yet. Were they serious? The past couple of times out they had always come to him. Even when they would be at a strategic disadvantage for whatever crazy scheme they had brewing. Only time he wasn’t Ophelia’s top pick was when some Minutemen tasks needed to be done. Even then He could always expect them at his front door the moment their feet landed on safe ground. A bottle of liquor in hand and an unbelievable story to tell.

“Not funny.” They chastised him scooting until they were seated next to him, knees brushing. "My idea for this morning was to maybe get breakfast and a semi decent cup of coffee. But I guess this is fine." They scrunch their nose in distaste at the cans warming in the fire pit.

“Shit doll,” John reaches out, wrapping a wiry arm around their waist. “Can I make it up to you? For being such an ass?” They hum in jest covering his hand with their own. The kiss that follows was unlike anything that he expected. It was slow and sweet. So different from the fast pecks he would get with others he slept with. He deepens it greedily, not ready to part just yet.

“You’re lucky I find you attractive.” Ophelia whispers into his mouth tossing his tricorn to the side and straddling his narrow hips. “We are going to have a talk about all this. Just-later-much, much later. I need a repeat performance of last night now that we are both sober.”

John groans letting them push him down. “Damn-you got it. You got whatever you want if you mean it.” Ophelia scoffs, ridding themselves of their baggy jacket. John can’t help but marvel at how beautiful they were backlit by the roaring flames. The orange glow of the light wrapping around their dark skin much like he craved to do. The flicking of it lapping at their smooth skin. Flashes of last night coming back to him of his tongue traveling down the same areas. He would have to remap them.

“As if I could ever lie to your smart ass.” They scoff grinding down on the growing bulge hidden in his rough pants. “But you have been lying to me and yourself it seems.”

He grunts in acknowledgment eyeing the way their ass moves. “You are absolutely right.Fuck- how can I make it up to you?”

Ophelia smirks cupping his cheeks. Their eyes meet. Rich hazel meeting cold black. The moment digs dip under his tough hide. The raw emotions in their stare makes his throat dry. “Put that mouth to good use- hmm? I know it’s good for more than some self-depreciation.”  

Spurred by Ophelia’s words he flips their positions, placing the sniper down on his bedroll. John sinks lower, kissing and nipping at their hip bone. Mapping out all the sensitive parts of their body. His tongue tracing the silver little streaks on their belly. Ophelia’s stomach twitches at the feel of his warm breath on their stretch marks, cursing quietly as he finds their slick core. Their nails score his scalp, dragging a hiss of pleasure from his lips. He licks with gusto, taking full advantage of their isolated positions to make them scream.  

“John-” They mew clawing at his shoulders to pull him back up to their kiss swollen lips. He goes leaving a trail of kisses in his wake before giving them a surprisingly chaste kiss on their lips.

“You sure ‘bout this doll?” He didn’t know what would happen after this, but it felt so different compared to his other recurring bed partners. He did want to see them again. He wanted this relationship to bleed into every aspect of his life. If he could relive that morning wrapped in their arms till his brain was splattered out on some dusty alleyway then he would. Without question.

Ophelia nods, reading in between the lines of his multilayered question. If there was one power figure in this wasteland they trusted, it was him. Wrapping a strong leg around his strong waist they shimmy off their tactical pants. Their eyes lock onto his pants as if the ratty briefs offended them.  John chuckles and casually loosens the draw strings keeping his pants up. Ophelia takes it from there scooting the rough material down his legs. They pur, grasping his erection and stroking it. Their dexterous fingers play with his head drawing out a healthy bit of pre.

John sighs and rests his forehead on Ophelia’s brow breathing in their naturally clean scent. It reminded him of the rare times he could get freshly washed laundry mixed with the springtime. Shen the wild plants strong enough to brave this cruel world sprouted. He kisses them, nipping at their chin and collarbone while they drive him wild. “Doll, please.” He gasps, back arching into their touch. “You’re killin’ me ya know.” Ophelia chuckles returning a deep kiss.

“Good, consider it penance for thinking I couldn’t love you.”

John heaves, lost for breath as their words hit him. He pulls back floundering.  “You mean that?” He sees the rapid fire thoughts racing through their wide eyes. Shock that they let slip that dirty little secret, fear of what he would do, then a stark resolution.

“Of course.” Ophelia nods through their embarrassment. Their sharp cheeks beginning to warm under his gaze. They say it like it’s an obvious statement. Like he should have just known. In a way he did. He just couldn’t believe it.

John takes the initiative now.  Dragging Ophelia down to his scarred lips preening when he feels them sigh into it. Their tongue teasing his telling him point blank what they wanted. Grabbing onto their plush hips John grinds down on them, rubbing his stiff erection through the seam of their thighs and wet entrance. The moans that elicited from them made his radioactive blood boil with need. He had to have them again, last night was a dud. He would savoir this time.

Positioning themselves over John’s cock Ophelia shoots him a sultry wink before sinking down onto him slowly. “Oh fuck me.” He groans, dropping his head to his pillow. Their body was feverish around his, soft, pliant and so willing.

“That was my intention.” They grab onto his shoulders for support. Eyelids fluttering heavily. “If I’m not getting that across now, perhaps I should quit while I’m behind?” They joke as they ride him. Their hips move in slow tight circles. It’s enough to drive him wild.

John digs his fingers into the supple flesh of Ophelia’s hips. With any luck he’ll leave bruises. Excellent. Ophelia couldn’t stop John as he flipped their position. He pinned them roughly down on his sleeping bag. “Don’t worry Doll. You got your point across very well. Don’t need to go putting yourself out like that.”

“You’re one to ta-” John thrusts into them cutting off their snark. Taking  devilish delight in flustering them. Setting a fast pace he drives in deep revealing in their cries of pleasure. God damn- this was almost enough to make him wanna go sober. How did he ever think one night would be enough?

“Fuck! I don’t deserve you.” His hisses cutting through the wet slaps of skin on skin. Ophelia does nothing but groan. Neither of them last long. Much to John’s chagrin. He finishes with a choked shout, hips and stomach twitching as he spills himself on their thigh. Ophelia doesn’t fare much better. They bite hard at the rough skin of his neck, nails scoring his back with a perfect mixture of pleasure and pain while they came undone beneath him.

“Do you mean it?” He asks, cupping the back of Ophelia’s skull. They wrap an arm around his neck nuzzling close, draping their body across his.

“Ye- but if you talk down about yourself again I’ll have to feed you to a deathclaw.” John chuckles feeling his eyelids getting heavy. He wouldn’t put it past them.

[collecting-stories]

Hurricane - c. 07 - Rafe Cameron

Summary: Good times don’t last forever.

A/N: I finished the re-write and now I’m almost done this fic! I’m so excited!!

Holiday in the Sun Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“You look ridiculous,” Rafe piped up, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the hall mirror as you moved around in the bathroom. You’d run the shower long enough that the bathroom had let out a wave of steam when you finally opened the door, allowing the cool air of the hotel room to dry you so that you could put a face mask on. You were shimmery and purple but you’d looked more ridiculous before.  

“It’s a face mask,” you replied, “you have two sisters, you’ve never seen anyone in a face mask before?” You asked, coming out of the bathroom, still holding your towel around you. The pajamas you’d picked out were sitting at the foot of the bed Rafe was lounging on.  

He was on his phone though he looked up when you came in. Before you even realized it he’d held his phone up, snapping a picture of you.  

“Rafe!” You clutched the edge of your towel as you reached out with your other hand and smacked his leg, “delete that!”  

“I might make it my lockscreen, what do you think?” He teased, holding his phone out so you could see the picture he’d taken. You looked slightly stunned, caught off guard.

“No, delete that picture, forreal,” you stopped at the edge of the bed, knees hitting the duvet, “you play dirty, you know that.” You grabbed your shorts and top from the end of the bed and headed back into the bathroom to change.  

“So should I make this my lockscreen or my homescreen?” Rafe called, getting up and following you to the bathroom. He walked in just in time to see you pull your top down and you glared at him though it was useless.

“Delete it.”  

-

There were moments that felt semi-perfect, as close to a real, actual, relationship as you thought you could get. But they were barely fully fledged moments, just snippets of something that never got to last because just when you were letting yourself fall into this your brain reminded you that everything here was temporary. Rafe included.  

“Hey, I don’t wanna be a killjoy here,” you said, sitting at the table on the balcony with Rafe, watching as he lit the blunt he’d brought with him. There’d been a whole tin of them but was down to one. You were watching the sun setting in the distance, thinking about the fact that your vacation was supposed to be ending in two days. “But what exactly happens at the end of this week?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, smoke tumbling out of his mouth as he exhaled the words.  

Maybe you should’ve had this conversation sober but you couldn’t help yourself. The thought had been gnawing at since you left the house the night before and even longer, since he first flirted with you in the kitchen at midnight. Where was this headed? Rafe had never struck you as the type of guy who did long distance relationships, or any relationships for that matter. Wheezie had certainly nailed that when she was talking her brother down, trying to sway your interest away from him. Maybe you should’ve listened to her.  

The last time you had seen Rafe was four years ago and you had disappeared out of each other’s lives almost completely after that vacation. But then he was just an unattainable crush you still stacked every potential date against a guy who had felt leagues out of your reach. How did you recover this time, after this vacation, if life went back to normal?

“I mean, you’ll go back home with your family...” you had heard what Ward said the night before but you couldn’t bring yourself to honestly believe that he would throw his son out completely. He wasn’t winning any awards for father of the year but could he really be so terrible?

“Doubtful.” Rafe replied, managing to blow a smoke ring but losing the second one when he smiled.  

“What do you mean doubtful? You really think he’ll not let you come home?” You asked.  

“Ward said if I fucked up again, I wasn’t coming home.” he replied, “that was the agreement for the trip.”  

“Where are you supposed to go?” You asked, crossing your arms for a bit of warmth as the breeze picked up. There was a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach and maybe it was just you being paranoid but you were suddenly regretting the entire conversation. Maybe ignorant bliss would’ve been better.

“Dunno,” he shrugged, “here’s pretty nice.”

“You can’t stay here Rafe.”  

“Why not?”

Suddenly that feeling you’d been having made perfect sense to you, “well, for one...you’re not footing the bill, I am.” You replied, “what are you supposed to do when I leave?”

“You know what, you’re right, you are being a killjoy.” He replied.  

Blissful ignorance, you wished you could turn the clock all the way back to the beginning of the trip. “Is that all this is to you? Just some game? Someone to pay your way?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Rafe snapped, “I got kicked out cause of you-”

“No!” You got up from the table, heading back to the sliding doors, “you got kicked out because you insisted on going back there and picking a fucking fight with your dad when you knew he was already on edge!”  

“Back to blaming me again, awesome.”

“I’m not blaming you...I just...” You sighed, “nevermind.”

The door slid closed behind you and you padded across the carpet floor to the bathroom, going inside and locking yourself in. The thought that Rafe was using you as a place to stay was something you didn’t want to consider but now that you’d said it out loud it was like it wouldn’t get out of your head.  

You shut the lid of the toilet and sat down, pulling your phone out of your pocket and pulling up Sarah’s number, texting her to see how things were going at the house. You hadn’t reached out to your mom again and you weren’t sure how things would be when you got home again, if you would be able to move on from this and go back to normal. You were waiting for a text back from Sarah when a knock on the bathroom door made you look up. It was too late to turn on the shower or run the faucet and pretend you didn’t hear him but you weren’t going to open the door either.

“Can we talk?” Rafe asked through the door.  

You stayed silent, staring at the tiles under your feet.  

“Please?” He tried again, “look, I’m sorry I snapped at you-”

“This isn’t cause you snapped at me.” You called.  

“Well, whatever, I’m sorry.”  

You stood up, walking to the door and pulling it open, “I’m not mad at you. In two days I’m going home and what happens then? We just, leave all this here? Or what...your dad kicks you out so you come up to Connecticut and act like you’re there for me but the whole time I’m stuck wondering if you’re just there for the free room and board?”

“Look, I don’t know what’s gonna happen in two days-”

“But I need to know.” You stressed.  

“Why?”

“Because I really like you and I don’t want this to mean more to me than it does to you.” You admitted. “I have school and responsibilities...I can’t just stay here cause I want to or “chill” cause it’s fun. I have to go home in two days, that’s happening. But I need to know what happens to us in two days when I leave.”

“I don’t...” Rafe trailed off, running a hand through his hair and pulling gently at the ends as he did. “I didn’t mean that I wanted you to front the bill for everything, I just meant that I wanted this to keep going...I don’t want you to go home in two days.”

“That’s kind of inevitable.”

“Why? I like this, exactly the way it is.” Rafe said.

“This isn’t real life.”

“I want it to be.”  

“If it’s not...if this isn’t “forever” that’s okay.” You lied. If it he told you that life went back to the way it was, that your relationship with him would go back to the same as it was before vacation, non-existent, you weren’t sure how you would get through the next two days. But you didn’t think you could stand being here with him.  

“I don’t know.” He repeated. He wanted to tell you that he knew exactly how he felt about you but he wasn’t sure. The entire vacation had turned into a whirlwind of emotions, none of which he expected, and he didn’t know what to feel about anything. Especially not this. He wanted to assure you that this was real and that his feelings were genuine and that he definitely hadn’t considered that if Ward didn’t let him come home he would need a place to stay but it had been at the front of his mind.  

“Okay.” You nodded. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you pulled it out to see a text from Sarah.  

“What is it?”

“Sarah wants to know if we wanna meet up with her and Topper tonight.” You replied.  

“We don’t have to.” Rafe said, watching you as you looked up at him.  

“Might be fun,” you admitted, almost eager for the distraction. “And, we have two days right, like you said.”

-

Confused feelings and alcohol had never been known to mix before and they definitely didn’t that night. You and Rafe needed to talk. To get to the bottom of your feelings about each other and honestly figure out if this relationship was something you wanted to pursue. But Sarah had invited the two of you to a club and you were quick to drown your rational thoughts in alcohol.  

It took two songs, four rounds of shots and a few beers for you to lose your inhibitions. You were starting to feel better, or at least more distracted than you had been earlier, dancing with Sarah, when you jokingly twisted under her arm and spotted Rafe in one of the booths making out with some random girl. She was practically straddling him on the bench and even in the dim lighting you knew that it was him and you stopped dancing.  

“What’s-” Sarah stopped when you did, blinking against the almost strobe lights as she tried to see what you were seeing, gaze landing on her brother.  

“Alright, I got drinks.” Topper’s voice sounded far away, just like the music and Sarah...it all sounded like you were listening to it through a tunnel. Your vision blurred and you turned away from the scene, shoving against Topper accidentally and rushing out of the club that was part of the resort.  

Topper set the drinks on an outlying table and waited for Sarah to give him any sort of direction. When she said nothing, just staring at her brother, he touched her arm, “Sarah?”

“He’s such a dick!” She snapped, glaring at him as if he was the one who had wronged you.  

“I’ll take care of Rafe, just make sure she’s okay.” Topper said. The both of them were far more sober than you were and Topper was worried that you would have trouble getting back to your room safely without help.  

-

taglist: @stevie-buck @vitaminekabc @mysterious-adventurer @vintageobx @starkeymemories @kookkyra @babygal-babygal @khiaraaa-in-spacee @fangirlvoice @tayyx @ilovejjmaybank @damonsalvawhore27 @princess-of-the-fandoms @illbesafeforyou @heavenlymama @vindictive-hearts @alexa-playafricabytoto @dontjinx-it @randomficsandshit @niamhobrien @strangerthanfanfiction713 @tovvaf @freckled-and-daydreaming @harleylynn @bibliophilewednesday @dpaccione @bolaurel @poguestyleskye @beautyandthebleh @under-a-canyon-moon

[pines-troz]

Animaniacs/PATB/Wakko’s Wish Fanfic - Pinky Promise

Summary: When Pinky sees the Warner siblings trying to stay warm in the frigid cold, his heart is overwhelmed with compassion. He suggests to Brain that they should help the poor orphans, to which the smaller mouse reluctantly agrees. But when the mice receive a stroke of bad luck, their friendship is put to the test. 

Word Count: 7,396

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28299807

Based on @themurphyzone‘s lovely post about Wakko’s Wish 

The winter snow blanketed the buildings and streets of Acme Falls. The citizens of the village trudged miserably as they went about their daily lives trying to get by in a country that grossly overtaxed its people for the financial satisfaction of its corrupt and cold-heart ruler, King Salazar the Pushy.

Pinky and The Brain emerged from their home and strolled through the village square. To protect themselves from the biting cold winds, Brain sported his purple scarf and brown fingerless gloves, while Pinky wore his red scarf. It wasn’t much, but when there was little to go around they learned to appreciate what they had. 

A particularly harsh gust of wind blew past the mice. Brain chattered his teeth as he instinctively rubbed his forearms for extra warmth. Pinky saw how frigid the smaller mouse was and immediately pulled him into a side hug for extra warmth. Brain sneered at his lanky companion and shoved him away, rejecting the affectionate gesture. 

“So where are we going again, Brain?” Pinky asked. 

“I just told you, Pinky! We’re heading over to the village dump to scavenge any materials that would aid my latest invention.” Brain answered with an annoyed frown. 

The pudgy mouse pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper from his pocket and unfurled the sketches for his device. “A giant vacuum cleaner!” He declared with an eager grin. “With this machine, we’ll be able to suck up that wretched king and his allies, trapping them in a lint-filled prison. Then, while the throne awaits for a new monarch, we will seize power over the kingdom and restore Warnerstock to its former glory!”

“Naaarf!” Pinky awed. 

“So that’s why we’re going dumpster diving today, Pinky.” Brain concluded as he stashed his sketch back into his pocket. 

“Egad Brain, brilliant!” Pinky joyfully cried out. But then his smile faltered. “But no, no”

“What?” Brain asked exasperatedly. 

“Don’t we need proper swimming equipment when we go dumpster diving? Like goggles and flippy fins?” Pinky asked, waving his arms around to emphasize his point. “We can’t waste any time, Pinky!” Brain said curtly. “The daylight hours are considerably shorter this time of year, and we need to make the most of our trip to the dump!” 

“Yay!!!” Pinky cheered as he followed his roommate. 

As the mice walked past the village square, they looked over at the abandoned orphanage to see three shabbily dressed children huddling around a makeshift fire.

The rodents recognized the Warner children; Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. The kids usually had a penchant for causing chaos around the village. But seeing the normally playful Warners in a state of misery and shivering in front of a weak fire pit was particularly heartbreaking. An awful reminder of the adverse impact of Salazar’s over taxation on the populace. 

Poor Pinky was on the verge of tears at the sight of the distraught siblings. Kids were supposed to be happy, bouncing around without a care in the world and having a fun-fun silly-willy time! But to see three poor and defenseless children broke the tall mouse’s heart.  “Poit! Oh, the poor dears...” He warbled, placing a hand on his cheek. 

“Yes, poverty is a merciless mistress.” Brain agreed in a melancholic tone whilst gently patting his taller friend’s back. “But now is not the time to dwell on the depressing sight of three poor waifs having to fend for themselves in a cold and unforgiving world.” 

As Pinky watched his smaller companion lead the way, he thought of a wonderful idea that made him feel all warm and fuzzy. Maybe he could do something to make the kiddies smile! 

With his heart filled with renewed hope, the taller mouse skipped along gaily, catching up with his companion. “Say Brain, if we come across anything that’s nice or shiny during our trip to the dump, can we give some to the little kiddies?” Pinky suggested cheerfully. 

Brain stopped in his tracks, turning his chubby head towards his lanky roommate. He stared at Pinky with an incredulous look. The odds of finding something of value were slim (not that it deterred the determined mouse from trying anyway). But it didn’t take long for Brain to be captivated by the warmth and compassion that pooled in Pinky’s beautiful blue eyes. How could he ever say no to a gaze like that?

“Should we come across something of value, we could, perhaps, share our wealth with the orphans.” Brain reluctantly spoke. 

“Is that a Pinky Promise?” Pinky asked excitedly. The mouse curled three of his fingers with only his pinky pointed out, and eagerly wiggled it in front of his friend.

Brain looked at Pinky’s pinky. The thought of making a Pinky Promise was juvenile and saccharine from Brain’s perspective. But despite his cold exterior and cynical outlook on the world, he could never bring himself to crumble Pinky’s childlike sense of wonder. The eloquent mouse let out an exhausted sigh, surrendering to his roommate’s request. 

“Fine, it’s a Pinky promise.” He confirmed, giving in to his best friend’s plea. He showcased the pinky finger on his right hand. Brain carefully wrapped his pinky around Pinky’s, giving it a firm shake. 

Once they untangled their pinkies, Pinky scooped Brain into a tight hug, to which Brain recoiled as he kicked his feet in the air. Pinky was unaware of Brain’s resistance as he twirled around. “Oh Brain, we are such kind and good and thoughtful mice! Zort!” 

“That’s all well and good my personal-space-invading friend, but we first need to search the dump and obtain anything of monetary worth before we could perform our noble deed.” Brain recalled as he struggled to liberate himself from Pinky’s affectionate embrace. “Now would you be so kind as to put me down before we further indulge in any more mawkish sentiment?”

“Of course, Brain!” Pinky apologized as he gently lowered Brain on the ground. The pudgy mouse gave a curt nod to his companion before resuming their journey. The lanky mouse did his best to keep up with his roommate’s quick pace. 

With their pact sealed, the mice ventured forth to the village dump in their desperate search for usable materials and anything of monetary worth. 

By the time sunset rolled in, the mice were unable to find the materials for Brain’s invention. But they did come across an even better find. Brain searched through a rusty tin can only to discover three gold coins. After retrieving the coins, Pinky immediately grabbed one. With the assumption that he held a chocolate coin wrapped with gold tinfoil, the mouse scratched at the sides in the hopes that he could remove the wrapping. Brain rolled his eyes and inspected the other two coins, observing them in great detail to check if they were real or counterfeit. After minutes of inspecting the symbols and inscriptions as well as testing their physicality, Brain confirmed that the gold coins were authentic. The mice then fled the town dump, absconding the valuable currency in their paws.

Brain held two of the coins over his head and Pinky held the third coin in his arms. The chubby mouse already planned out the different ways to spend their newly acquired wealth. The first coin would be given to the Warners (in keeping with his Pinky Promise to Pinky), the second coin would be used to purchase food from the grocers, and the third coin would be used to fund Brain’s latest plan for world domination. 

In the words of the classic show tune, they’re in the money!

The two companions sprinted down the street as fast as their little feet allowed. They needed to avoid drawing attention from the greedy local tax collector, Baron von Plotz, and his bumbling lackey, Ralph the Constable, as well any person willing to get their hands on the money.

Brain was a few paces ahead, desperate to return to their home with the coins. Pinky, despite his physical agility, was distracted when a somber sight caught his eyes. 

Pinky noticed the Warners forlornly trudging inside their ramshackle home in the abandoned water tower. Oh, how his heart ached at the sight of the downtrodden children. But as he gripped the coin in his hold, he remembered what he needed to do to cheer them up!

Unfortunately Pinky failed to see where he was going and tripped over the cobblestone street, landing with a thud. As he fell, he accidentally let go of his coin, which went rolling down the street.

“Oh no!” Pinky gasped, alerting Brain. The pudgy mouse whipped his head around to see the fleeing coin. He was about to intervene when the coin made a right turn and went straight into the sewer grate.

They stared in shock as they watched the coin disappear before their very eyes. 

Brain felt his anger rising like a kettle filled with boiling hot water. He snorted and gritted his teeth as he confronted the bumbling mouse.  

“Pinky, you clumsy nincompoop!” Brain snapped, clenching his fists with rage. The mouse furiously stomped over towards his roommate. 

Pinky closed his eyes and lowered his head, expecting a particularly hard bop on the head. This was all his fault. If only he had paid attention! 

As Pinky waited to receive his blows, he heard the sounds of two coins clinking together followed by two small paws hitting a particularly hard object and the aggravated grunts of his roommate. 

Pinky opened his eyes and turned around to see Brain taking out his aggression on the dilapidated picket fence. After a few additional jabs, the smaller mouse looked at the fence, his breathing slowing to calmer breaths.

After releasing his anger, Brain picked up the two coins and resumed the trek back home. “Come along Pinky,” He called out while keeping his eyes on the trail ahead. “let’s return to our home and prepare for tomorrow night.” 

“But Brain, what about the poor kiddies?” Pinky asked concernedly. 

“What about them?” Brain spat without stopping. 

“But we have to give one of our coins to the children!” Pinky reminded his roommate. He could feel his eyes starting to water. 

Brain groaned and turned to face the taller mouse. “We need the money, Pinky! One coin to put bread on the table, and the other to pay for our latest plan to take over the world!” 

“But you Pinky promised, Brain!” Pinky cried out as tears streamed down his cheeks. “And a Pinky promise is the most important promise of all!” 

The lanky mouse fell onto his knees, ignoring the frigid dampness of the snow beneath him.  Putting his head in his hands, Pinky sobbed uncontrollably, curling himself into a pitiful ball in the snow.  

Brain stared at his distraught friend and was immediately overcome with guilt. He hated seeing Pinky cry. Even more so, he hated the fact that he made Pinky cry. Brain winced at his inconsolable companion and looked to his gloved hands instead. There were two sides of him battling among themselves as he pondered. His ambitious side told him that world domination was more important and that he could make reparations after he ascended to power. But his heart told him that he needed to place the well-being of others before himself, no matter how much it wounded his pride. With a forlorn sigh, Brain concluded that he didn’t want to sour his relationship with Pinky by backing out on his promise. He needed to do the right thing and fulfill his promise. 

Brain courageously shifted his gaze back at Pinky, who was still crying his eyes out with ragged breaths as a disgusting amount of snot oozed from his nostrils. The pudgy mouse knew that he needed to cheer up his soft-hearted companion. 

“I did, didn’t I?” Brain softly replied, his voice laced with remorse. Pinky’s ears perked and immediately stared at his friend. The lanky mouse wordlessly nodded as he took his red scarf and blew out the snot from his bulbous red nose. 

With a deep sigh, Brain walked over to Pinky and shoved one of the coins into his chest. The lanky mouse instinctively held the coin tight, knowing now that he needed to be extra careful not to lose the money. Pinky looked over to see Brain making his way over to the worn-down water tower. 

“Come along Pinky, I believe we need to pay the orphans a surprise visit.” Brain quietly ordered. 

Pinky’s glistened as an optimistic smile broke out. Brain had kept his Pinky Promise after all! The lanky mouse eagerly sprinted to join his shorter friend by his side. 

“Oh thank you, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed joyfully. “I can’t wait to make the little kiddies smile!” 

Brain looked at Pinky, whose cheerful attitude was now restored, and gave a small smile in return. 

The mice cautiously entered the ramshackle home through the open door, which was susceptible to the cold gusts of wind that blew through Acme Falls. They quietly walked through the broken down home and scanned their surroundings. The water tower was laid bare with the exception of a few worn-out pieces of furniture. Blue tattered curtains that divided the living space, a wooden bureau that held a burning candle, and a makeshift bed which was currently occupied by Yakko and Dot. 

The eldest Warner brother and the Warner sister were tucked underneath the quilt blanket. Pinky and Brain remained in the shadows as they heard Yakko enchanting Dot with a bedtime story. 

“Once upon a time, a brave knight married a beautiful princess and they had two sons.” Yakko recited with a gentle smile. 

“But they wanted a daughter too!” Dot said eagerly. 

“Right, so they planted a garden all over the kingdom,” Yakko explained as he draped his arm around his little sister. “and on the first day of spring every flower in that garden bloomed. And out of the prettiest flower came...”

“Me!” Dot chirped, pointing towards herself. 

“Yup!” Yakko affirmed, causing Dot to snuggle up to her brother. 

The mice also noticed Wakko appearing from behind the tattered blue curtains. The middle child played around with the fabric as he listened to the tale. 

“And so the knight and his bride, Mom and Dad, took you home. And every night at bedtime they’d come in and say, ‘who’s the girl?’” Yakko asked as he affectionately nuzzled his nose into Dot’s. “And you’d say,” 

“I am!” She confidently declared, gesturing to herself once again. 

“And they’d ask ‘how’d you ever get so cute!” Yakko asked, nuzzling her nose once again. “And you’d say,”

“I was born that way.” She boasted as she crossed her arms. 

“And they’d say ‘tell us your name young lady’” Yakko requested as he gently booped his sister’s nose with his index finger. “And you’d say,”

“Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fana Bo Besca the Third!” The Warner sister stated as she clasped her hands together. “But you can call me Dot!” 

Yakko smiled at his younger sister. “And they’d say ‘can we call you Dottie?’ and you’d say,”

“No, just Dot.” Dot commanded with a serious look on her face. “Call me Dottie and you die!” She warned. 

“And Mom and Dad would laugh and laugh and laugh, and tickle ya!” He said whilst tickling his sister, causing her to giggle. “And you’d laugh too! And you’d fall asleep with a great big smile in your heart!” 

Hidden within the shadows, the mice had listened in on the endearing bedtime story. Brain felt something stir within him as he heard the story of their parents. Was it pity? Sympathy, perhaps? He couldn’t tell. Brain awkwardly focused on the coin he held, feeling like he was intruding on an intimate family moment. Something told him that he should just flee the scene, but his feet remained planted on the floor. 

Meanwhile Pinky sniffled as he was moved to tears by the lovely tale. The mouse thought about what the children’s lives might have been when they lived with their parents. What kinds of activities did they like to do? Did they like gardening or were they more into arts and crafts? Did their Dad like to ride them around on his back like a horsie? Did their Mom bake some nice chocolate chip cookies for the kiddies? Did they all like to sit by the fireplace on a snowy evening all wrapped up in blankets and snuggle on the sofa together? And to think that the poor kiddies were robbed of more bonding time with their parents and now had to live in a worn-down water tower. Pinky felt the tears fall down his face as he gazed at the Warners making the most out of what little they had. 

“I like that story!” Dot proclaimed. 

“I like that story too. Narf!” Pinky agreed in a wavering voice. 

The strange response alerted the three children. Yakko and Dot instinctively hugged each other while Wakko sprinted from behind the curtain and leaped onto the bed to join his siblings. The kids were frightened that a mysterious person entered their home. 

Yakko kept his younger siblings in a protective hug as he scanned the room. “W-who said that?” He loudly inquired, trying his hardest to hide his fearfulness with a hardened look on his face. 

“My associate did.” Brian addressed in a monotone voice, tugging Pinky’s hand as they stepped into the light. Brain wore a tired frown as he stared at the Warners, while Pinky used his scarf to dab the tears from his eyes. The smaller mouse noted the fearful looks on the children’s faces and tried his best to soothe their worries. “Pinky and I have no intentions of bringing about any harm, so there’s no need to be frightened.” 

The Warners released a collective sigh of relief at the tiny strangers. 

“Are you leprechauns?” Wakko asked curiously with a pointed finger. 

“Actually we are a pair of genetically altered lab mice trying very hard to get by during these trying times and plotting to take over the world.” Brain explained in earnest. “But my friend Pinky here has something he wants to give to you.” 

The smaller mouse ushered his taller friend to approach the children. “Oh, right-o!” The lanky mouse remembered. 

With a joyful smile, Pinky sprinted towards the mattress, carrying the coin in his hands. Brain stood by the edge of the shadows, clutching their last coin to his chest as he watched his Good Samaritan of a roommate perform his good deed. Once Pinky made it over to the bed, he lifted the coin, offering it to the Warners. “Here you go!” He chirped. 

The siblings looked at each other in disbelief. 

“Well go on, it’s yours! Zort!” Pinky cheerfully insisted. 

“You’re just gonna give away that large sum of money to us?” Yakko asked incredulously. 

“Well, it’s from me and my best friend!” Pinky explained sincerely, nodding over to Brain. The big-headed mouse’s face faltered, surprised that Pinky would share the spotlight in his good deed. 

“Brain was the one who found the coins, and we decided to share the money with you! Zort!” Pinky pleasantly told the children, causing Brain’s to draw a ragged breath.

“I don’t deserve such praise from Pinky…” The smaller mouse pondered. As his eyes started to water, he rapidly blinked his eyelids to fight off the tears that threatened to fall. 

Yakko graciously accepted the coin from Pinky and inspected both sides. He knocked the coin on the bedpost and smiled. “Yup, it’s real!” 

Wakko and Dot cheered as they took turns holding the gold coin, their eyes glimmered with fascination at their newfound wealth. Pinky’s blue eyes shined, elated to see the smiles on the poor children’s face, and even happier that he did his part to contribute to their joy. 

Having fought back his tears, Brain briefly smiled at the sight. 

“Thank you guys so much!” Dot exclaimed gratefully. She leaned down and patted Pinky’s head, who eagerly tapped his foot at the affectionate gesture.

“Man, I wish we could think of some way to repay you two,” Wakko added, turning his attention toward the smaller mouse. 

Brain frowned as he shook his head. “There’s no need to fret over that. You children don’t owe us anything.” He shoved a hand into his fur pocket and tucked the gold coin underneath his other arm. “Now if you’ll excuse us, my associate and I must swiftly return home to avoid detection from the greedy tax collector.” He informed. With a quick turn, the eloquent mouse walked back into the shadow and made his exit from the shabby water tower. 

“Goodnight kiddies!” Pinky cheered as he followed his roommate. 

“Goodnight!” The Warners chorused, beaming their grateful smiles at the mice. Pinky returned the smile before he left. 

Pinky stepped outside into the bitter cold, still warmed from helping out the poor orphans. With a joyful laugh, the mouse skipped and twirled around on the village street. All of his remorse from accidentally losing the third coin was washed away and replaced with the joy and giddiness from seeing the precious smiles on the Warners’ faces. A sentimental image that he will always hold in his heart. Oh, how wonderful it was for him and Brain to lend a helping hand!

As Pinky glanced at Brain, who still had his hand in his pocket and stopped in the alley near their humble abode. The taller mouse ceased his twirling and approached his most trusted companion. 

“Oh Brain, wasn’t it wonderful to see the kiddies happy?” Pinky happily asked. But he did not receive a response. Brain remained silent as he looked up at the starry sky above. 

“Brain?” Pinky carefully addressed. 

“Why did you share the credit with me?” Brain softly inquired, still looking up at the night sky. 

Pinky didn’t hesitate to answer his query. “Because you were the one who found the coins while we were dumpster diving,” He eagerly explained. “and if it weren’t for you then we would have gone back home empty-handed and the kiddies would still be penniless! Zort!” 

Brain turned his head towards Pinky, stunned by his roommate’s reasoning. He then let out a tired exhale and walked through the front door of their humble home. 

After a few seconds of staring at the doorway, Pinky cautiously followed Brain’s footprints. The taller mouse stopped to take a step next to one of the footprints before taking a step back. Pinky gazed at the different footprints, his feet were remarkably bigger than Brain’s, which were practically tiny. But despite how different they appeared, the footprints were close together like two very good friends. Much like how he was close to Brain. The lanky mouse smiled at the two footprints for a few moments longer before heading inside. 

When Pinky arrived, he saw his roommate extinguish the match he used to light the candle that sat atop the bureau near their matchbox bed. The lanky mouse silently yanked the string on the pull-down screen that Brain used to map out his schemes as a feeble attempt to keep out the cold winds. 

The chubby mouse tossed aside his purple scarf and brown fingerless gloves. He retrieved his blue nightgown and nightcap from the bureau and changed into his pajamas. 

Pinky swiftly moved behind the wooden beam to respect his roommate’s privacy. The lanky mouse took off his scarf and dressed in his yellow nightgown and nightcap. After waiting patiently for a minute he decided to call out to Brain. 

“Can I come over now?” He asked. 

“Certainly.” Brain answered in an unusually quiet voice. 

Pinky emerged from behind the beam and carefully approached Brain, now dressed in his pajamas. The smaller mouse wore a particularly forlorn expression that greatly worried Pinky. 

“Is something wrong Brain?” He softly inquired. 

The chubby mouse sighed as he brushed the dust off of his blue nightgown. He looked into his roommate’s soft blue eyes and was captivated by the compassion they seemed to exude. After getting lost in the pool of his companion’s loving stare, Brain darted his own pink eyes to the floor and was compelled to address what was on his mind. 

“I don’t know what you see in me, Pinky…” Brain admitted as he pulled back the covers of their bed and got into bed. 

Pinky quietly listened to the sullen confession. But he couldn’t understand why Brain would say such things.

Why Brain’s the most determined and hard-working person he ever met! Even when his plans to take over the world backfired, he rarely dwelled on his failures and got right back up, eager to come up with another plan. And Pinky was well aware that while there were many good and wonderful things in the world (like Brain, Pharfignewton, and ice sculptures made from frozen spit) there were many bad, awful things in the world (like that awful meanie King Saladbar and his terrible taxes). But Brain was motivated to take over the world so he could make it a better place for everyone! 

And even though Brain can be grumpy, he and Pinky did almost everything together! Living in the same place, sharing the same bed, and even working on plans to take over the world together! Pinky loved and respected Brain. Brain just needed to be reminded of how important he was.

“Well, I see my best friend in the whole world.” Pinky offered with a gentle smile. 

Brain’s eyes widened in shock, kneading his fingers over the thin purple blanket. While he was always pondering over his plans and focused on fulfilling his destiny to take over the world, he sometimes forgot about how Pinky held him in such high-regards. That imbecilic mouse was simply too good for this world. 

If Brain was being honest with himself, he didn’t deserve to have a friend like Pinky. But then again, he needed to have someone like Pinky in his life. Someone who supported his goals for world domination, but wasn’t afraid to usher him to use his heart when making decisions as opposed to his superior intellect. And despite his easily distracted nature and occasional clumsiness, Pinky was an absolute godsend of a friend. Always eager to assist Brain in his schemes, making his favorite meals, and cheering him up when he needed it most. Brain loved Pinky, but he could never bring himself to admit that. 

Instead of professing his honest musings, the eloquent mouse simply looked into his roommate’s beautiful blue eyes once more with a sad smile on his lips. “That’s very kind of you, my charitable chum.” 

Pinky smiled, happy that Brain was feeling better than he was earlier. The taller mouse hopped into bed and settled himself next to the mouse he admired. While Pinky laid on his back, Brain shifted over on the right side of the bed, curling himself into a protective ball. 

A gust of cold wind blew through the makeshift shield that covered their front door and into their home. Brain shuddered as he felt the frigid wind seep into his fur and instinctively rubbed his arms for warmth. Even the added layers of his nightgown and blanket weren’t enough for the freezing wind to seep into his fur. 

Pinky noticed his shivering companion and it didn’t take long for the taller mouse to gently wrap his arms around his pudgy roommate, pulling him into a soft and affectionate embrace. He laid his chin on top of Brain’s large cranium, waiting for any sort of reaction from him. 

For once, Brain didn’t bother to recoil from Pinky’s loving hug. Although his intellectual side insisted that he needed the extra warmth from his roommate’s body heat to combat the cold weather, his vulnerable side (as much as he tried to conceal it) reminded him that it was okay to accept the comfort his friend so kindly provided. 

“Thank you…” He sighed contentedly, causing the lanky mouse to smile. 

“Goodnight Brain.” Pinky said sweetly, keeping him in his gentle hold. 

Brain smiled as he immersed himself in Pinky’s hug. 

“Goodnight Pinky…” 

Two Years Later

Inside the walls of the royal castle, Prime Minister Brain, now dressed in a black robe, white ruffled neckerchief, and curled powdered wig, was writing away in his office. With the strokes of his feathered pen, the mouse placed the finishing touches on the new laws he planned to propose to the monarchs: mandatory public education for all youths under eighteen which would be properly funded by the government and taxpayer money, the abolition of child labor, and the establishment of affordable healthcare. Knowing all of the hardships he, Pinky, and the other citizens of Acme Falls endured during the terrible reign of Salazar the Pushy, Brain vowed to use his political authority to undo the damage caused by the tyrant and enact positive social change to bolster a more prosperous Warnerstock. 

The mouse grinned at the documents, immensely satisfied with his work. All he needed was the Warners’ stamp of approval before these new laws would be put into place. 

He placed the feathered pen back into the ink jar, straightened out the papers, and got up from his seat. After stretching out his arms and back, he walked over to the window. Brain smiled as he admired the beautiful view of Acme Falls and the rest of the valley from the comfort of the castle. 

He could hardly believe that his wish for a position of power had been granted. 

After the events of the wishing star, the village of Acme Falls and the rest of Warnerstock was ushered into a new age of peace and prosperity. The purchases from Wakko’s two ha’pennies resulted in a thriving economy for the little town, which extended throughout the rest of the country. Once it was revealed that the Warners were actually the surviving children of King William the Good and Queen Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fana Bo Besca II, Salazar was removed from the throne. In his absence, Yakko, Wakko, and Dot Warner were crowned the new co-rulers of Warnerstock. During the transfer to power, the children needed to bring aboard someone who was trustworthy enough to assist them in governmental affairs and lead the cabinet of ministers. After reviewing all of the competent adult figures in Acme Falls in need of employment, they all agreed that Brain was the most qualified candidate for the job. The day after the interview, the Warner siblings appointed Brain as their Royal Advisor as well as the new Prime Minister of Warnerstock. 

Coming off the heels of his years as a poor inventor with a desire for political power, Brain was thriving in his new career. His first order of business was to appoint Pinky to work in the stables. The chubby mouse recognized how important Pharfignewton was to his hopeless romantic of a roommate, so he decided to reward Pinky with the job that would allow him to spend more time with the mare he was so dearly fond of. 

As the Royal Advisor to the new monarchs, Brain was responsible for lending his political expertise to the Warner siblings so that they would become capable and just rulers Warnerstock deserved. The small mouse applied his extensive knowledge of the previous world leaders to tutor them on the dos and don’ts of leading a country. But Brain quickly learned that the best way for the siblings to retain this knowledge was through the alluring power of music. As a result, Brain wrote and performed many songs about the monarchs of the past, the history of Warnerstock, and various aspects of political science, all of which were sung to the tunes of catchy folk songs and memorable classical music. Having to come up with new songs for each lesson proved to be a challenge for the Royal Advisor. Fortunately, King Yakko lent a helping hand and collaborated with Brain in his spare time to work on the songs. 

Prime Minister Brain also performed skits with the Warners to practice appropriate behavior for when they needed to attend important social events outside of the castle. He hoped that by having the kids act out how to properly speak to their subjects, the kids would adopt those traits as they grow older. 

Dot also consulted with Brain when it came to matters of party planning for royal balls. Researching the latest fashion trends, deciding what music would best fit the atmosphere, dealing with catering and decorations. Brain even recruited Pinky to teach the Warners how to properly waltz. As a result of their collaboration, their first royal ball proved to be a smashing success. 

In addition to advising the Warners, Prime Minister Brain worked to fulfill all the duties that came with being the head of the government. In regards to overseeing the kingdom with the Warners, Brain did most of the heavy-lifting when it came to wielding political influence. The mouse led meetings with the Cabinet of Ministers to discuss matters of finances, education, and the like. He also drafted new laws and policies, as well as reviewing laws proposed by other members of the Cabinet, before awaiting approval from the Warners. 

The reason why Brain accepted the extra work was so that the Warners could have some much-needed downtime for themselves to indulge in some crazy kid shenanigans all around the castle. After years of having fend for themselves, they deserved to act like regular kids and create cherished childhood memories while they were still young. 

While being the Prime Minister of a small European country was not the same as being the supreme potentate of the globe, the mouse was thoroughly content with his current political career. 

Perhaps in due time, Brain could convince the Warners to peacefully transfer their sovereign powers over to him while the siblings kept their royal titles and all the comforts that came with it. And with the kingdom under his control, he could use his status as the benevolent and undisputed ruler of Warnerstock to manipulate other world leaders to do his bidding and finally take over the world! 

“Knock, knock!” He heard a distinguished cockney accent singing from behind the door. 

“Come in, Pinky.” Brain commanded as he turned away from the window. 

Pinky opened the door and waltzed into his office. The taller mouse twirled around and pranced towards the table as he sang the tune of Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2. 

“La la la la! La la la la! La la la la! La la la la!” Pinky belted out as he climbed up the table leg. 

Once he perched himself on the table, he swiftly grabbed Brain and broke out into a giddy waltz. Brain blushed when his cheek collided with Pinky’s. The smaller mouse surrendered as he listened to the rest of the verse. While Pinky’s singing was not great by any means, Brain couldn’t help but smile as he saw the jubilant expression on the lanky mouse’s face. 

After spinning around, Pinky gently placed Brain back on the table. The Prime Minister swiftly grabbed a hold of the taller mouse’s arm to steady himself. Once Brain regained his composure, he adjusted his powdered wig and looked up to Pinky. “I see you’re doing well for yourself, my rhythmically-agile friend.” 

“Oh Brain, I had such a fun-fun silly-willy time with Pharfignewton this morning! After brushing her teeth and combing her mane, we took a ride around the royal gardens to admire the pretty flowers!” Pinky eagerly replied, clasping his paws together. “I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to work in the stables! Troz!” 

“My pleasure, Pinky. Your happiness is important to me, my friend.” Brain said as he gently ruffled Pinky’s hair. The lanky mouse contentedly closed his eyes as he accepted the loving gesture.

Then the mice heard someone knocking on the door. 

“You may enter.” Brain commanded, swiftly placing his hands behind his back. 

The door opened and three royally dressed children entered the room. King Yakko, King Wakko, and Queen Dot happily smiled at the mice. The children were adorned in their sparkling regal attire. Brain noticed that the siblings were considerably healthier now that they had a stable roof over their heads and were financially well off. 

“Ah, good afternoon your excellencies.” Brain politely addressed with a short bow. 

“Good day your majesties!” Pinky exclaimed as he dramatically fell to the table, bowing before the children. 

“Aw come on fellas, there’s no need for over-the-top formalities,” Yakko assured as he motioned for Pinky to stand up. 

“Yeah, you two are cool with us,” Wakko added. 

“We just wanted to drop by to see how you two were doing.” Dot said. 

“We’re doing just swell, my queen! Narf!” Pinky gushed “Why I had a grand old time taking care of Pharfignewton and riding her around the castle.” 

“How wonderful!” Dot happily replied as she gently scooped Pinky into her hands. 

“And you three arrived at the perfect time, for I just completed my proposal.” Brain declared as he collected his papers. 

“Oh, who’s the lucky lover?” Yakko asked with a cheeky grin. 

Brain quickly glanced at Pinky and promptly shook his head. “I wasn’t referring to that type of proposal and I’m not courting anyone at the moment.” 

“We could wield our power to arrange some dates for you if you’d like.” Dot offered with a sly smile. “I know someone who would be the perfect romantic partner.” She looked at the Prime Minister while giving a subtle gesture towards Pinky. 

“I know a few horses who are totally in your league!” Pinky added. 

“That won’t be necessary.” Brain dismissed. The smaller mouse picked up his documents and walked over towards the monarch. “Now that you all addressed my imprecise wording in jest, I’ve recently drafted a new set of laws to improve the social welfare of our country and would greatly appreciate your feedback on the matter.” 

Yakko grabbed the papers, with Wakko standing on his tippy-toes to get a better look at the documents. Dot placed Pinky back on the table with Brain and joined her older brothers.  siblings as they perused through the proposed laws. But it wasn’t long before they were excited by what they were reading. 

“Reforms on public education!” Yakko declared. 

“No more child labor!” Wakko exclaimed. 

“More accessible healthcare!” Dot eagerly shouted. 

The young monarchs looked back at Brain with eager smiles. “Good work Prime Minister!” Yakko complimented. “All that’s left is the royal stamps of approval!” 

The Warner siblings reached into their pockets and retrieved their stamps, happily marking the front page with three differently colored WB symbols. 

Brain couldn’t help allow a satisfied smile on his face as his new laws were highly favored by the young kings and queen. “I’m elated to know that you three are pleased with these new laws.” He admitted. 

“We just want to make Warnerstock a better place!” Dot insisted. 

“I knew that we could trust you since you’re always looking out for the needs of the little guy,” Yakko mentioned. “Much like that time you and Pinky gave us a good portion of your life savings back when Acme Falls was a dump and everyone was dirt poor.” 

“You kids remembered that?” Brain sputtered with wide eyes. 

“Well of course! How could we forget about a kind thing like that?” Wakko asked. 

Brain hadn’t realized the full extent to how he and Pinky had impacted the Warners with the gold coin. While Brain was mainly motivated to stay in Pinky’s good graces, Pinky’s kindness and compassion were what drew him to help the orphaned siblings in the first place. Brain felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He didn’t deserve their adulation. 

“You should all praise Pinky, for he was the one who thought to help you three in the first place.” The Prime Minister confessed as he gestured to the lanky mouse. “He noticed how miserable you kids looked and he sought out to give you anything we could find and I promised I would help out. And while I did find three coins that day, we lost one of them and I was so close to breaking that promise…” 

Pinky noticed his distraught companion and wanted to alleviate his woes. “But you still kept the Pinky Promise, Brain.” He consoled, placing a warm hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I can understand how you felt,” Dot interjected with an assuring tone. “You and Pinky were struggling to get by too, and in all honesty, had I been in your position I would have kept the money!”

“But you still followed through on your promise.” Yakko countered. “And, if my memory serves correct, you were the one who assured us that we didn’t have to pay you back.” 

Brain was surprised that the Warners remembered their exchange so vividly. 

“And even though you didn’t want any financial compensation, we still wanted to show our gratitude.” Yakko continued. “But after some time, we found the perfect way to repay the moment you walked in for the job interview when we scouted Acme Falls for our Royal Advisor.” 

“So you selected me for the position solely out of moral obligation?” Brain questioned. 

“Well, yes and no,” Yakko admitted. “Of course we needed a trustworthy adult who was highly educated and well-versed in politics and people skills. Qualities that the other candidates sorely lacked.” 

“You have no idea how hard it was to conduct an interview with The Mime!” Dot interrupted. 

“But from the very moment you showed up, we immediately remembered how you and Pinky helped us out a couple of years earlier,” Yakko explained. “And after listening to your compelling answers, my sibs and I agreed that you were the right guy for the job!” 

“And even though you told us not to repay you, we still wanted to return the kindness,” Wakko added with a soft smile. 

Brain was stunned by the siblings’ thoughtfulness. He could only gaze at the young monarchs as a single tear escaped. 

It wasn’t long before Pinky pulled him into a gentle hug. Even though he frowned at being smothered with love in front of the monarchs, he secretly appreciated his friend’s affectionate gesture. 

Dot reached into her pocket and retrieved a handkerchief. “Here you are, Prime Minister.” The young queen kindly offered. Brain nodded as he accepted the cloth, wiping away the tear from his face. 

Once he placed the handkerchief on the table, he motioned for Pinky to release him from the embrace. Brain straightened out his black robe and adjusted his neckerchief to maintain his orderly appearance. The Prime Minister remembered that there had to be a reason why the monarchs visited him during work hours. 

“So to avoid any more mawkish sentiment, is there anything I could do for you while you’re still in my office?” Brain inquired. 

“Oh yeah!” Wakko exclaimed, remembering why he and his siblings dropped by in the first place. “We just wanted to drop by and invite you and Pinky to have lunch with us!” 

Reaching into his pocket, the middle child took out a folded table, which popped open to reveal plates and bowls filled with a variety of food that was still warm.  Wakko carefully placed the banquet in the middle of the office. Yakko grabbed three chairs and gathered them around the table. 

Dot carried the mice over to the table and placed them in front of two plates each holding a large wheel of cheese. 

“Naaarf.” Pinky expressed, his blue eyes glistening with joy at the glorious giant cheese wheel. Without warning, the mouse leaped into the air and dove into the cheese as if it was a giant swimming pool. 

“I suppose it’s only appropriate to take my lunch break now.” Brain affirmed with a shrug. He took a handful of the cheese and looked up at the Warner siblings. “Thank you for the thoughtful gesture.” 

Pinky emerged from the cheese wheel and looked up at the kids. “Thank you very much! Troz!” He added with an eager smile. 

“We’re always happy to provide for our friends!” Yakko casually replied.  

And so the mice and the monarchs happily shared their meals together, making pleasant conversation and jests and enjoying each other’s company. 

Additional AN: Wakko’s Wish was one of the many animated movies I was really fond of as a kid. The movie came out direct-to-video when I was seven, and I have memories of taking out Wakko’s Wish from Blockbuster (as well as other Animaniacs VHS tapes) and had a blast with this movie.

I recently revisited the movie and not only do I still like it, but there are a lot of things I appreciate about it. I like how it manages to capture the humorous spirit of the show and showcased the enjoyable character dynamics while telling a heartwarming story with believable stakes. The animation by TMS is beautiful and the musical numbers were pretty good. But probably my favorite aspect of the movie was that it served as a nice finale to the show and gave the majority of the characters satisfying send-offs: Rita and Runt receiving a permanent home when they’re adopted by Dr. Scratchinsniff, Buttons getting some appreciation, The Goodfeathers blissfully under the impression that they’re respected, and Brain receiving a position of power by becoming the Royal Advisor to the Warners and the Prime Minister of Warnerstock. And after seeing Brain try and try again after so many failures, it’s a really nice and fitting conclusion to his story (even if he doesn’t take over the world, he’d probably thrive as a government leader). 

So in addition to writing a story based on the previously mentioned post, I decided to expand upon Brain’s position as Prime Minister and Royal Advisor for the Warners, thinking about what their general relationship would be like. The idea of Brain using songs to lend political advice to the Warners was something that came serendipitously as I was writing. I thought about Brain’s political song numbers from the PATB spin-off, such as the glorious The Really Great Dictator and the wonderful A Meticulous Analysis of History, as well as Yakko’s educational songs. So those two would probably spend some time together as a collaborative song-writing duo lol. I also thought about how the Warners would love to throw parties at the castle, so Dot and Brain as party planners was the first thing that came to mind as well as Pinky as a part-time dance instructor!

Admittedly I kinda winged it when it came to using the gold coins as the thing Pinky and Brain found. I’m well aware that the ha’penny is seen as valuable to the citizens of Acme Falls, but I decided to place this story one year before Wakko went off to find his fortune via child labor. So I’m going off on the assumption that there was some higher currency that was still used in Acme Falls that was eventually confiscated by Baron von Plotz. 

The most important aspect I wanted to explore in this story was the loving relationship between Pinky and Brain. Their voice actors confirmed time and time again how much Pinky and Brain love each other. Now whether you interpret their relationship as a strong friendship, partners in crime, or even as a romance, there is no denying the love between these silly mice.

Also, I don’t recall if there was a moment in either the original run of Animaniacs or the PATB spin-off where Pinky and Brian made a pinky promise (if they didn’t, then they wasted an opportunity for a comedic or sentimental moment between the characters), so I thought about how they would only make pinky promises for something serious, and Brain would always keep his pinky promises to Pinky. 

I had a lot of fun writing this story in particular because I always wanted to explore more of the Wakko’s Wish universe and add some depth to what was presented in the film as well as playing around with what the characters would be up to after the events of the movie. 

Thank you for reading! 

[skarsgard-daydreams]

Son of Perdition

Description: Henry insists that he is an ordinary man, at least until his mind starts to unravel.

Warnings: angst, false imprisonment, religious abuse, physical and psychological torture, mild blood, threats of gun violence, mild physical violence, kidnapping, brainwashing, smoking

Notes: This story assumes that The Kid is telling the truth about his past in a parallel universe and deals with his imprisonment. It’s dark, and it has a lot of religious themes. Please mind the warnings.

Everything had unraveled so fast. He had tried to seize the threads of his life as it came apart, but they had cracked out of his grasp like a whip and stung him in the process. When the man asked him who he was, a name floated to the surface of his mind. It was limp and lifeless—a corpse bobbing face down in the water after a shipwreck. He slouched against the corner of the cage and watched the man ash a cigarette into an empty coffee tin. The smoke danced in the light of the halogen lamp illuminating the curved walls of the cistern that had been converted into a prison. The man repeated the question.

“Who are you?”

“H-Henry,” the prisoner answered. His throat felt like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together when he swallowed. He lowered his gaze to the metal tray at the man’s feet. The light glinted off the surface of a tin cup, and Henry swore he could smell the water in the air, something crisp and sweet mixed in with the acrid scent wafting off the cigarette. It was close enough he thought he could reach it if he flattened himself to the floor and stretched out his arm, but his vision blurred every time he moved and his limbs felt like they had turned to stone.

The man heaved a sigh and dropped his cigarette butt into the glass of water. “A false witness will not go unpunished,” he said, rising to his feet. He shifted the tray further from the cage with the toe of his boot. “And he who breathes out lies will not escape.”

Henry rested his forehead against the bars and winced as the metal tray scraped across the floor. “Proverbs,” he mumbled. “Chapter nineteen.” The dull recitation spilled from his lips without conscious thought. He let his eyelids slide shut as his jailor switched off the light and climbed up the ladder. The hatch overhead closed and the locking mechanism groaned and creaked, plunging the room back into pitch darkness.

In the long stretches of time when he was alone, Henry tried to put his memories in order. It seemed essential for him to maintain a timeline, though he could no longer explain why. He started with his name, which would remind him of his father, and from there a universe of memories would expand in his mind while a shrill silence filled his ears, occasionally punctuated by water dripping somewhere out of reach.

He remembered his father’s house—the lingering scent of decay as he treaded the floorboards and flicked on a light. He remembered a thrill fluttering in his stomach when his wife said she was late. He remembered how soft her hair always felt, how her skin smelled like apricots and cream. He remembered wondering if their child would be a girl or a boy. He hoped it was a boy. And then he remembered a boy in a cage, and his stomach turning sour when he heard his father’s voice crackle to life again on the cassette player, reciting the revelations of a madman.

The steady drip of water eroded his stream of thought and Henry found himself laying flat on the floor as the room seemed to spin in the darkness. Something told him this was a symptom, that he needed to find a diagnosis and a treatment. He was supposed to be good at that. He reached for his left hand and searched for his radial pulse with his right, but he could barely feel it under his skin. Every time he tried to count the beats, the sound of dripping water crashed again and made him flinch. He realized after several attempts that he would need a watch to take an accurate measurement, anyway. He couldn’t remember what had happened to it.

Time was a problem. He had tried to measure its passage from the cage, scraping tally marks into the floor with his fingernails each time the man brought him food. If he could keep track of things, maybe he could stay rational. If he could stay rational, maybe he could find a way back. Henry reasoned that two tally marks were equal to one day, except for Sundays, when the man didn’t come at all. On those days, he fasted from food, water, and any belief that he might live to see sunlight again, until he heard the scrape of metal above him and thanked fucking Christ that his jailor had returned. He guessed he had made it two and a half weeks before the man started turning off the lights when he left, leaving Henry in the dark for hours on end.

It was the kind of darkness that existed at the center of a black hole, something that consumed the whole spectrum of color and left him in a vacuum. Soon his mind became unmoored. He groped for the edges of the cage, feeling the cold metal under his hands to remind himself that there was matter around him—that he existed somewhere in this iteration of time and space. He touched his face and his body to make sure that he was still solid. He couldn’t hold onto both thoughts at the same time. When he grasped the metal walls that surrounded him, he felt himself blinking out of existence. By the time the man returned the next day, he had forgotten there ever was a tally.

Henry took a few shallow breaths and tried to ignore the dripping sound nearby. It felt like the water was hammering into his brain each time it fell. The damp, musty aroma in the air was green in color, he thought, but even as the idea formed in his head, he knew it made no sense. He had to find some way to stop his mind from slipping—to keep track of things. He had always been notoriously bad at that. His wife set up apps and reminders on his phone all the time. Didn’t she install an app that counted cycles and days? He slipped his hand into his pocket and dug around for his cell phone, but it wasn’t there, and soon he wasn’t there, falling through a rush of sound and color, into another place and time.

The phone had stopped working, anyway. He was wandering in the woods with blood still on his hands, his dark trousers dragging in the deep snow. He accidentally smeared blood on the touchscreen when he tried to get the device to turn back on, but it didn’t respond. It had been rendered useless as a brick when he’d slipped through to this other place—this other Castle Rock, where it was still 1991 and everything seemed tilted and off balance, like he might lose his footing and start floating in the air. He trudged through the snow, doubling back over his own tracks again and again as he tried to find a way to trigger the strange portal he had come through before.

It was in those woods that he first met the man. Henry was straining to hear the sound his father always spoke of, but he heard the click of a gun at his back instead. Cold fear dropped all the way down to his balls as he went into cardiac arrhythmia. The only reason he imagined someone would hold him at gunpoint was that they had noticed the well-dressed stranger wandering in and out of town and decided to rob him.

“Don’t shoot,” he said, holding his hands up. “Y-you can have my wallet, okay? And my watch.”

“Get on your knees,” the man said.

Adrenaline raced through his veins as his sympathetic nervous system kicked in to a heightened state, but Henry felt frozen. He would be dead before he could run, and he didn’t know how to fight a man with a gun. Hell, he barely knew how to throw a punch. As he lowered himself to his knees, he felt the gun travel up his spine and press against his scalp over the parietal bone. He thought of how his father had claimed to have heard the voice of God in the barrel of a gun, but he heard nothing now except his own ragged breathing and the cawing of crows overhead.

“Please, just take my money,” Henry begged. “My wife might be pregnant,” he added quickly. “She needs me.”

“I don’t want your money,” the man said.

He heard rustling and then the man gripped one of his wrists and twisted his arm behind him. Cold metal circled his wrist. Henry jerked his other arm away from the man and felt the butt of the gun crack against his skull. He fell face down in the white powder and heard a ringing in his ears as the man caught his other wrist and cuffed it behind his back. His heart began to beat even faster, thrumming wildly.

“What the fuck do you want?” he sputtered. A dark shadow bloomed at the edges of his vision as the man grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled his head back to force a piece of cloth between his teeth. The man said nothing, tying the cloth behind his head and gagging him tightly. He grabbed the collar of Henry’s coat and hauled him to his feet. Henry stood four inches taller, but the man was stocky, with a gruff demeanor that suggested he was accustomed to pushing people around. He kept a firm grip on Henry’s arm, propelling him through the snow.

Everything that followed seemed to blur together into one white hot streak of panic. Stumbling through the woods became nosing carpet fibers as he was shoved into a trunk, and then he was kicking and screaming until he heard a siren and then felt the car begin to slow. Relief flooded Henry’s system. Thank God, he thought. He was saved. He shouted as loud as he could and thumped against the roof of the trunk until someone popped it open. Both men peered down at him, and he grew quiet.

As the man talked to the cop, a cold feeling settled in Henry’s stomach. The man spoke of bloodthirsty and evil men, of the son of destruction, of Satan disguising himself as an angel of light. He said he acted in the service of God, that he intended to cast the Devil into a bottomless pit as it is written in Revelation. The cop shined a flashlight in Henry’s eyes and leaned in close to his face, staring at him. He stared back, his words muffled by the gag as he tried to plead for help.

“I’ve never seen a pair of eyes like that,” the cop said. He clicked the flashlight off and slammed the trunk shut. The rest of their conversation was casual, as if there hadn’t been anyone stuffed in the trunk of the car after all, and soon the car was moving again.

The segment of time between the car and the cistern blistered like film melting in a projector. Henry had a vague sense of being in a prison when the man freed him from the handcuffs and told him to climb down the ladder. When he didn’t move except to rub the red marks on his wrists, the pistol came out again. He didn’t know why he obeyed; the gunshot would have been the better alternative. But fear streaked like lightning in his system, and Henry climbed down into the dimly lit reservoir. He followed the man’s instructions, shrugging off his coat and unwinding the scarf from his neck. He kicked off his shoes and handed over his belt, then emptied his pockets of his phone, wallet, and keys. The man gestured for him to step into the sturdy cage against the wall. Henry swallowed.

“I’m not the Devil,” he said.

“You will not deceive me.” The man cocked the gun and leveled it at Henry, staring him down until he backed slowly into the cage. His bare foot collided with the back wall. He wanted to argue that the man was being deceived—that whatever he thought he heard wasn’t the voice of God. It was the voice of his own delusions driving him to do things that were morally reprehensible to any sane person regardless of their creed. But he wasn’t dealing with a sane person. He was dealing with his father.

The cage door creaked as the man closed it and fitted a heavy padlock into the latch. When he was done, he got down on his knees in front of a wooden stool and prayed that God would make him righteous and steadfast as he executed His instructions. Henry wrapped his hands around the bars and tested the strength of the cage, hoping that a man as crazy at this one might have made a mistake. It had no give whatsoever. The man was too caught up in his prayer to hear the metal rattling.

“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places,” the man said, quoting the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. Henry knew the verse well. He had often been expected to recite long passages of scripture from memory when he was a child, and even though he hadn’t set foot in a church in years, the words were still carved indelibly into his memory.

After he finished his prayer, the man sat down on the stool and considered his handiwork as he lit a cigarette and took a pensive drag. He examined Henry’s cell phone with a furrowed brow, then flipped open the wallet and took out his ID, and his business card, which listed him as Associate Professor of Neurology at Johns Hopkins University. The man turned each one over in his hands as he studied them. When he took out the photo of his wife, Henry’s grip on the bars tightened and his heart leapt to his throat.

“Please,” he said, rattling the door to the cage to get the man’s attention. “Let me keep that.”

The man’s gaze flickered back toward Henry. He sniffed the air and took a zippo lighter out of his pocket, lighting the corner of the photo on fire and dropping it into a coffee can on the floor once the flame approached his hand. Henry sank to his knees and watched the only memento he had of his wife in this fucked-up version of reality smolder and disintegrate. His hands were shaking as he pressed his palms against the floor.

“He told me you would use pity as a weapon,” the man said, lighting another cigarette and watching him coolly.

A rush of noise filled Henry’s ears and suddenly he was on his back again in the dark, trying to fill his lungs with short, shallow breaths that never seemed to satisfy him. Another symptom, possibly a dangerous one. He wondered how long it had been since he had a drink of water. Time had become nonlinear. He couldn’t keep track of it anymore. The man would visit, tempting him with food and drink like Satan in the garden of Gethsemane, and ask him who he was. Henry never gave the right answer. If he mumbled “Lucifer” or “The Antichrist,” the man would hear the lack of conviction in Henry’s voice and call him a liar. If he said his own name, he was also a liar. The man seemed determined to turn Henry into a man of honest faith in his twisted beliefs through sheer deprivation or kill him in the process. The latter felt like a very real possibility.

The hatch groaned and a moment later, it was outlined in a dim halo of light cast by the lantern the man carried. Shapes appeared in Henry’s vision, blurring so much they were almost formless as his eyes adjusted. He rolled onto his side and heard his joints cracking as he pushed himself into a sitting position and slumped against the wall of the cage, panting from the effort. The man climbed down into the cistern and turned on the halogen light, blinding Henry with its brightness. He squeezed his eyes shut and saw a riot of color behind his eyelids while he listened to the stool scrape across the floor and the Bible flop open in the man’s hand.

“And I saw an angel coming down out of heaven, having the key to the Abyss and holding in his hand a great chain,” the man read aloud. Without his sight, the voice sounded like his father to Henry. He imagined he was a boy sitting in one of the hard wooden pews, listening to him preach, restless and uncomfortable in his Sunday best. “He seized the dragon, that ancient serpent, who is the devil, or Satan, and bound him for a thousand years,” the man continued. “He threw him into the Abyss, and locked and sealed it over him, to keep him from deceiving the nations anymore until the thousand years were ended.”

“Revelation,” Henry mumbled. “Chapter twenty.”

“Who are you?” the man asked.

Henry licked his chapped lips and searched his mind for the right answer. “The Son of Perdition,” he said, and it felt true for once. If his own father had thought an innocent child was the Devil and locked him in a cage for twenty-seven years, maybe he was the son of hell.

His vision came into focus. He rested his forehead against the bars and stared at the man with resignation, willing to do or say anything his righteous zeal demanded if it meant he could have something to drink. The man stared back for what felt like years. He leaned down and picked up the metal cup, dumping water and ashes onto the floor. Then he reached into his bag and took out a thermos, unscrewing the lid.

The scent of the water was cold and sweet and ice blue as the man poured it into the cup. Henry grasped the bars of the cage and stared at the cup of water like he was watching a man perform a magic trick and trying to figure out how it worked. The man set the cup down and slid the tray across the floor. As it inched toward him, Henry fought the urge to reach out and grab it. He knew this man was another version of his father, just as there was another version of himself in this reality. If Henry wanted to survive, he would have to demonstrate piety and respect. He looked at the man when the tray reached the edge of the cage, and waited for him to say grace.

The man let him have water again, but he still shuttered Henry in the dark in between every other visit, perhaps to simulate the cycle of day and night in this place where the sun couldn’t reach. On Sundays, the lights never came on. Those were the worst days. By the time the man returned, Henry would be flat on the ground, his fingers laced through to bars to keep himself from spinning free of the earth's gravity well and hurtling through outer space.

He thought he could feel the dark energy of the universe calling to him from out there, a low frequency that sometimes transformed into a growl. The metal bars that surrounded him hummed with its vibrations from time to time. Everything did. He felt the man's energy radiating from him like a tremor. It was a sickly green color, with flashes of red that flared around him when he was feeling particularly cruel, or flecks of blue that mixed with the green when he was inclined to think of Henry as his son.

Henry learned to say nothing, or risk his words being interpreted as the whispered lies of the Deceiver. He leaned against the bars and became the man's confessor, listening to him read scripture, or talk about the challenges of running a prison, or the problems in his marriage. Henry parted his lips, trying to arrange the words into the right configuration one day when the man mentioned being married.

"I have a wife," he whispered slowly, as if surprised by his own revelation.

After that, he didn't taste food again for days. When Sunday came, it seemed to stretch on and on, until he felt the measure of eternity in his stomach. He tried to place events on a timeline in his mind, but he never could get further than his name before the dripping of water drilled into his ear and erased the markers he tried to use to find his way home. Still, he was certain he had a wife. He could feel her in his matter, as though particles of her clung to him and reverberated on a quantum level. But he couldn't remember the color of her eyes or the shape of her face anymore.

He was never more pliable than after the fasts imposed on him by his jailor. He would listen to the man's teachings as though he was his sole disciple and the man offered the Bread of Life. When the man asked him who he was, Henry looked at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Tell me," he whispered.

The man told him the story of his life in this world. He told him of every calamity that had ever happened in Castle Rock—how each of them could be traced through invisible spiritual markers back to Henry, how he left an imprint wherever he went in time and space, some kind of radiation or heat signature that made fruit rot on the vine. He told him he still caught Henry leaving his mark on the world, and that he knew he sometimes slipped through the bars of his prison and wandered through time, leaving chaos and pain wherever he went. Henry wanted to know more about how he could slip out of his prison and wander freely, but he remained silent.

"That is why you must be punished," the man said. Henry heard his father speaking. He remembered the verse about sparing the rod, and nodded in agreement. His father’s reasoning was sound.

"I must be punished," he repeated.

Henry sometimes imagined he was one of the anchorites who had allowed themselves to be bricked into the walls of churches during the Middle Ages, leaving only a small hole where they could pass food and excrement back and forth and tell pilgrims the messages they received from God. But he never received any divine revelations, or if he did, they weren't in a language he understood. In the darkness he could hear a sound like a raging fire at the center of the universe, something primal that crackled with life. It was always expanding, and he knew that someday it would consume them all.

There was no way of knowing how much time had passed between his incarceration and the day that the jailor reached inside the cage, tipping Henry’s chin up to better see his face. Henry remained still, staring the man as he studied him and wondering what he saw. His touch was hard and comforting at the same time. It reminded Henry that he was real.

"You haven't aged a day," the man remarked with wonder. He released Henry's face and sat down on the stool, lighting a cigarette. The skin on the man’s face seemed to sag and his hair had a few streaks of grey. Henry wanted to ask how long it had been, but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t remember if the man had always looked like this or not. As the man took a drag, something new emanated from him. There had often been moments when Henry tasted the man’s doubt while they sat together in his cell. He tasted it in the air now—something bitter and stale and sour, like a conviction that had gone bad.

“Someday,” the man said to him. “I will have to end this.”

Henry curled his fingers around the bars and peered out at the man. He remembered the verse that came after the one the man liked to cite so often. “When the thousand years are ended,” he said, his voice weak from lack of use. “Satan will be released from his prison.”

The man stared at him in surprise, letting the ash of his cigarette grow long. “Revelation,” he said. “Chapter twenty.”

Henry inclined his head in a slight nod as he listened to the sound of the universe howling in the distance. He spoke in a halting voice, but one which had conviction.

“I know how it will end.”

@scxrsgxrd​ @skrsgardspam​ @loomiz​ @sunshineandskarsgards​

(Also thank you @girlinthecorner​ for taking an early peek at this for me. I appreciate it.)

[jjoutermaybanks]

With You In My Head || Rafe Cameron x Reader

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight

summary: it’s going to be a long summer. living in the Outer Banks with your trailer park mom and fancy mansion dad, you know it’s going to be a tough three months. things only get harder when your best friend’s brother, the notorious Rafe Cameron, begins to complicate your life even more. but will the island’s biggest wildcard successfully steal your heart, or leave you more broken than before?

word count: 3.3k

warnings: references sex, angst

*not my gif, credit to owner*

PART FOUR

You had never run home faster in your life.  By the time you shut the door and collapsed against it, you were out of breath and aching from your miles of sprinting.  But the fear and adrenaline was what gave you the energy to make it, and now that you were home the real anxiety could set in.

Tonight was way too close.  One second later and Sarah could’ve found you in quite a compromising position with her brother.  You knew the tumultuous relationship between the two of them, and because you were Sarah’s best friend you obviously had to be on her side.  You knew that if she found out what you did tonight--and what you had wanted to do before you were interrupted--that Sarah might stay mad at you forever.

Blowing out a sigh, you anxiously pushed a hand through your hair and tried to forget about how good tonight felt.  In between flashes of Rafe’s hands on your body, you forced yourself to remember your anger at him, your frustration at being stranded at the party.  But the feeling of his lips on your skin and his voice in your ear was too much to ignore--he was everywhere, all over you, despite the distance you’d forced between you.  You craved his touch again, and only wished you could’ve returned the favor.

Shut up, you scolded yourself.  It was a stupid thing to do, and it’s over now.  You don’t have to see him again.  You changed out of your clothes from the party, throwing them into the corner of your room as you tugged on a big sweatshirt.  You hoped the warm fabric would drown out the lingering fire left by Rafe’s fingers.  As you climbed into bed, you focused your brain on anything but the boy you left behind.

But despite your better judgment, the smallest yearning to see his bright blue eyes stuck with you, no matter how hard you tried to move on.  This yearning stuck around through the next day, which you spent determinedly at home.  When Sarah texted you asking to hang out, you faked a stomach bug so you could lay around moping.  Your mother didn’t ask any questions, but you knew you couldn’t stay cooped up forever.

Sarah finally convinced you to go out the next day.  She and the rest of the Pogues were making the rounds delivering groceries, and you figured spending time with them would help get your mind off of Rafe.  

“Enjoying yourself?” JJ asked as he settled beside you.  You were laying atop the deck of the HMS Pogue, head tilted to the sun so you could soak up the rays.  JJ handed you a beer, which you happily accepted and clinked against his own bottle.

“You guys have the greatest lives, I swear,” you told him, swigging some of the beer.  You didn’t mind the taste and knew it would take more than one bottle to get you even remotely tipsy.

JJ chuckled.  “Great is one word to describe it.  Reckless, dangerous, chaotic; those work too.”

Grinning, you leaned back on your elbows and watched Sarah nuzzle into John B’s neck as he steered the boat.  They were beyond cute, and for a brief instant you remembered the way someone else had kissed your neck.

Shuddering, you took another big sip.  JJ noticed your odd reaction.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answered quickly.  “Just jealous of Sarah, that’s all.”  You hoped your deflection method worked, and judging by JJ’s eye roll you succeeded.

“Tell me about it.  Those two really know how to make a guy feel lonely.”

Your smile faltered slightly.  JJ was such a nice, charming guy.  Why couldn’t you like him instead of intense, unpredictable Rafe?  Not that you liked Rafe, but JJ wasn’t exactly the one occupying your thoughts.  You wished the blonde boy was the one you were daydreaming about, but sadly he barely crossed your mind.

The next few days were spent exactly like that one; adventuring with the Pogues, avoiding Figure 8 and all thoughts of Rafe.  One advantage of staying away from that side of the island was that you didn’t have to see your dad.  Occasionally your mother would try to press you into visiting, but she could tell your last visit had gone horribly and you didn’t feel like trying again so soon.

The Pogues didn’t just take your mind off of Rafe; they actively turned you against him.  The way they talked about the Kooks shined a light on Topper and Kelce and all the other people Rafe hung around.  They sounded like total snobs, and over time you found yourself embarrassed that you wasted time thinking about Rafe.  Instead, you embraced the Pogue life and journeyed all around The Cut until you rarely ever thought about your little slip-up.

One morning though, after jolting awake from a particularly hot and heavy dream, all of your hard work went right out the window.  Even in slumber you still thought of Rafe, more specifically Rafe’s hands.  They were all over you, drifting across your body and igniting sparks on your skin.  The dream left you tingling and frustrated when you finally woke up, and the only thing you wanted was the release he had given you that night on the beach.

Later that day you met up with the Pogues at the dock.  JJ saw your irritated scowl and quirked up an eyebrow.

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” he asked, and you huffed.

“You could say that,” you grumbled, arms crossed in annoyance.  “I can’t wait to get on that boat and sail away from here.”  Really, you wanted to sail away from your thoughts.

JJ nodded.  “I get what you mean.  Unfortunately though, we can’t exactly leave for good.”

Kiara and Pope were busy preparing packed lunches at The Wreck, and John B. and Sarah joined you moments later.  As you waited, three frustratingly familiar figures were striding across the docks in your direction.

“Topper,” John B. called out in a clipped tone.  Topper’s smirk was twisted, and Kelce scowled beside him.  You forced yourself not to look at Rafe.  Even out of your peripheral vision you knew he looked good.  His button down shirt was open and billowing in the breeze, his board shorts low on his hips and accentuating his abdomen.  The sunglasses perched on his nose prevented you from figuring out if he was watching you.  You couldn’t decide if you wanted him to or not.

“Come to get another ass-kicking?” JJ demanded, squaring up so you were blocked by his shoulder.  He was doing this to protect you, and you noticed the tightness in Rafe’s jaw as he regarded JJ with a frown.

“Relax, scrappy,” Topper retaliated.  “We’re picking up food before we hit the water.  I’ve got myself a fancy new boat that would ride circles around your crappy tin can.”

John B. took a step towards him.  “I bet a long scratch would look real nice on the side, don’t you think?”  As Topper was about to reply, Sarah stepped forward and sighed loudly.

“Cool it with the testosterone,” she said, rolling her eyes and pushing John B. back gently.  “These sleaze-bags aren’t worth it, let’s just get our food and go.”

John B. and JJ listened to her as she led them towards The Wreck, and Topper and Kelce quickly followed behind, muttering in their wake.  You were about to go join your friends when a hand closed around your elbow.

“Y/N,” Rafe hissed, keeping his voice low and glancing around.  You wrenched your elbow away, huffing in annoyance and scowling his way.  Rafe took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket, revealing his blazing blue eyes that immediately caught you off guard.

“What do you want?”  You tried to sound authoritative, folding your arms defensively.  But Rafe’s intense gaze was making your stomach flutter, and it was hard to stay angry at him.

“Since when do you hang out with them?” he asked pointedly, spitting the word them like it was sour.  You scowled.

“You mean my friends?” you fired back.  “Why wouldn’t I hang out with them?”

“Do you know the kind of shit they get themselves into?”  He ran a hand through his gelled hair, messing it up and leaving it ruffled in a way that made your knees weak.  “They’re dangerous, Y/N.  You’re gonna get in trouble if you keep hanging around them.”

“Oh, and you’re so innocent?  Your friends throw under-aged keggers and go around beating people up.  Why should I want to be with you?”  You winced; you hadn’t meant to phrase it that way.  You shouldn’t have implied Rafe wanted you to be with him, and his surprised reaction told you it caught him off guard as well.

He recovered quickly though, the intensity never waning in his eyes.  “I thought we were getting close,” he admitted, his voice soft.  The sudden vulnerability threw you off, but you kept your composure and cleared your throat.

“We talked once on the beach, Rafe.  You tricked me into going to a stupid party where I was miserable the whole time.”  You purposely left off the part of that night that had been haunting you for days.

Rafe wasn’t going to let this slide, though.  “What about after the party?” he challenged, stepping closer to you.  You were grateful the others weren’t around to see how flustered you were getting just by Rafe’s presence.

“W-what about it?” you stuttered dumbly, falling right into his trap.

“When we were on the chair together.  You can’t honestly say you didn’t enjoy yourself.”  Your throat had gone dry, words failing you as Rafe slowly dragged his hand up your arm.  Goosebumps rose on your skin and you inhaled sharply as his fingers danced across your collarbone.

Gritting your teeth, you shook your head.  “It meant nothing to me.  I want nothing to do with you, Rafe.”

His hand stilled where it rested on your waist, only a thin tank top between you and his sinful touch.  “Oh, really?  Because as I recall, you were more than happy to suck my dick.”

The sudden dirty words made you gasp, stepping away from Rafe’s intoxicating aura.  He followed close behind though, keeping your chests close and faces inches away.

“No I wasn’t,” you argued.  “You’re delusional.”

Rafe scoffed.  “I’m delusional?  Because I have a crystal clear image of you reaching into my pants--”

“It’s done, Rafe.  Get over yourself.  What happened was a one time lapse in judgment, and I can assure you it won’t be happening again.”  You felt your voice waver ever so slightly, cursing yourself silently as Rafe picked up on this and smirked wider.

“Admit it, Y/N.  It’s all you’ve been thinking about.”  

Exhaling softly, you felt his hands burn up your side as they drifted across your body.  His tantalizing voice continued whispering in your ear.  “It’s all I’ve been thinking about, too.  Your fingers, your lips, your tongue.”  A shiver raced its way down your spine, his mouth dangerously close to touching your skin.  “I can’t stop thinking about how good you feel.”

Finally snapping back into your senses, you forcibly stepped back and put some much-needed distance between him.  “Well, you’re just gonna have to keep thinking about it, because it’s never going to happen.”

With that, you turned on your heel and rushed into The Wreck, desperate to find your friends and make the blush in your cheeks fade away.

You joined the others as they finished packing up lunch, grateful to be away from Rafe’s scrutiny.  You all climbed onto the HMS Pogue, JJ giving you a steady to hand to hold as you found your footing.  Pope pulled out of the dock, beginning to head towards a secluded part of the marsh.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t very secluded today.  You spotted Topper at the helm of a brand-spanking new boat, his glare visible even from a distance.  He steered right towards you until you were side by side, bobbing a few meters apart in the calm waters.

“Do you need something?” John B. asked, feigning pleasantries.

“Nope, nothing at all.  Just thought this was a good spot.”  Topper motioned for Rafe to hand him a beer, and you bit your lip as you watched him toss a can.  Rafe cracked one open himself, taking a long swig with his gaze clearly locked on you.

Turning deliberately away, you accepted the beer bottle JJ handed you and sighed.  

“What’s his problem?” JJ wondered, clearly seeing the way Rafe stared at you across the water.  

You sipped the beer, almost challenging Rafe to say something.  “I have no idea,” you answered JJ absently.  

From then on it was a clear competition between which boat was having more fun.  The Pogues all laughed louder than usual, but this was only met with the other boat’s booming laughter as well.  JJ dealt out a game of cards and you all gathered on the deck, eating lunch as you played.  For a split-second you forgot about Rafe on the other boat, until the sound of his voice drifted into your ears and made your skin crawl.

Topper’s engine roared to life, and you all turned to watch him speed down the water.  JJ cursed them out as they departed, clearly agitated by their arrogant display.

“They think they’re so cool because they have a newer boat,” he grumbled.  “We ought to show them what this little puppy can do.”  He slapped the side of the HMS Pogue, shooting Pope a pointed look.

“We can definitely keep up with them,” Pope responded.  “This baby hasn’t failed us yet.”

You watched helplessly as the guys fired up the engine, determined to speed after Topper.  You were just fine putting as much distance between you and Rafe as possible, but with the competitive natures kicked into overdrive you knew you would be seeing him again shortly.

The HMS Pogue sped down the waters, spraying you with droplets as you pulled off your shirt and shorts to avoid getting them wet.  You lounged with Kiara and Sarah on the deck as the boys whooped and hollered, and soon you had caught up to the Kooks.

“Fancy seeing you here,” JJ called out.  Topper’s glare was deadly, and Rafe just took another long sip of beer.  You sat up on your elbows a little, hoping your bikini-clad body was visible enough to throw him off.  Behind Rafe’s sunglasses, you had no idea what affect this had on him.

“You guys really don’t want to try and race me,” Topper warned.  “This thing is the fastest model yet, and I’d hate to leave in you a mountain of dust.”

JJ gripped the wheel.  “Bring it on, Kook.”

Both engines roared to life, the noise deafening as it boomed through the marsh.  You clutched the side of the boat for dear life as JJ pushed the throttle all the way, sending the boat whizzing across the water.  Topper was neck and neck with you though, concentrating hard as he steered dangerously close to you.

Every now and then the two boats would thunk against one another, jostling you where you sat.  Kiara gripped the side rail, sending JJ a glare.

“I thought boat racing was a non-contact sport,” she commented sharply.

“Yeah, there’s no point in wrecking the boat just to win a race,” Pope advised, but JJ merely waved them off and continued his aggressive antics.

Standing up shakily, you attempted to move across the deck but were quickly thrown off balance by another collision with Topper.  Stumbling backwards, you nearly fell off the side before Sarah lunged out to grab you.

“Jesus, JJ!” she hollered, pulling you back to your feet.  The breath had been knocked out of you from your near-fall, and when you glanced over at Rafe you couldn’t decipher whether he had a look of concern or triumph on his face.

“I officially no longer care who wins this stupid race,” Kiara declared, attempting to wrestle the wheel away from the blonde boy.  But JJ, stubborn as ever, resisted her and stayed firmly planted where he stood.

“I can feel her really revving up now,” he insisted, giving the wheel a loving pat.  “A few more seconds and we’ll smoke them.”

You braced yourself for another crash, eyes connecting with Rafe’s across the water.  He’d removed his sunglasses, and was leaning behind Topper’s shoulder and directing him as he drove the boat.  You scowled his way, refusing to back down from his stone-hard stare.

Soon enough, just as JJ had said, the HMS Pogue began to edge out the Kooks.  Topper frantically tried to speed up, shouting in irritation.  Rafe and Kelce tried to tell him what to do, but it was to no avail.  The HMS Pogue was now three feet ahead of them, then five feet, then ten feet, and eventually the country club boys were left in the dust.

With whoops and shouts of glee, the Pogues all burst into celebration.  You, Sarah, and Kiara hugged excitedly, grins stretching across your lips.  JJ pulled the boat to a gentle stop so Topper could catch up, and when he did Sarah flipped him off.

“You said that was a ‘fancy new boat’, right?” John B. mocked, arm slung protectively around Sarah’s waist.  “It’s a shame you wasted your money on such a piece of crap.”

Topper looked about ready to blow a gasket, and Kelce was kicking the beer cooler angrily.  Rafe was cool as ice, however, never once betraying his frustration.  He had you locked in his gaze, and your lips parted as the intensity made chills roll down your spine.

You were sick and tired of how small and helpless he made you feel.  Rafe didn’t deserve to have that much power over your emotions.  In two long strides you made your way over to JJ, grinning up at the blonde boy who was basking in his victory.

“Nice sailing,” you complimented, before looping your arms around his neck and pulling his face down to yours.  Your lips connected in a kiss, tongue swiping out to deepen it.  Startled at first, JJ quickly recovered and smoothed his hands up your bare back, landing just where your bikini was tied.  You leaned into him, hand pressed to his chest as he returned the kiss with equal fervor.

After a minute you tore yourself away, eyes alight with adrenaline as you smiled up at him.  Turning your smirk to the other boat, you tilted your head at Rafe with a confident how’s that? expression.  

His blue eyes were dark, brows low on his forehead.  His frown made your heart clench, and when he finally looked away you felt yourself missing the heat of his stare.  

But he didn’t look at you again; he didn’t even acknowledge your existence once you all returned to the docks.  You made a point to walk beside him up the path, hoping he’d say something, anything.

Rafe was silent, eyes glued to the ground in front of him.  You watched as he left with Topper and Kelce, not even throwing a glance back your way.  His figure disappeared into the distance, until you weren’t sure if you’d ever see it again.  

Guilt and disappointment raged inside of you, battling with your feelings of victory at making Rafe angry.  You should've been thrilled you pushed all his buttons, because after all he’d been doing the same to you.  But what should’ve felt amazing felt like a rock in your stomach, and you almost wished you’d fallen into Rafe’s trap instead of setting up one yourself.

~ ~ ~

taglist

@prejudic3​ @afterglows7b-tch13​ @beeeee06​ @dysaneworld​ @we-are-all-lovely​ @luckypurpleunicorn @poguequeen​ @solko​ @freebiscuitdragonbear @sunflowerkxsses​ @tembo-ndoto​ @justcallmesams​ @theworldofimagines​ @rafescameron​ @jjs-housekeeping​ 

[brideofcthulhu10]

Okie doke so I have a lot of asks piled up but I’m gonna need to take my time with them. So in the meantime I’m gonna give you guys a few of my own personal writings while i weed through my writers block. I hope you can understand, I have fourteen prompts to get to but I am a little muddied on getting through each one. 

David Headcanons

Italian food used to be his favorite when he was alive. Santa Carla was flooded with immigrants from all over, especially a high concentration of Europeans so he had experienced real Italian cuisine from the few family owned joints that would come and go. When he was turned he tried to defy his vampire roots after learning that garlic didn’t hurt him- only to find out it didn’t hurt him EXTERNALLY. The tragic tango of pasta primavera in his stomach had him sick as a dog for days! Since he’s opted for other cuisines, but secretly he misses when he could freely ingest copious amounts of garlic

Outside of rock, David really loves classical music. Particularly foreign opera. Why? Because it is some of the most intense sounds you will ever hear. The melancholic arias of tortured souls left on the brink of tragedy soothe his untamed internal rage. However, he often doesn’t get to because as soon as he does Paul pitches a fit. 

“Aw whaaat? Classical? Who invited the old lady to the party?! “

“Will you shut up and let me listen to my music, asshole?”

“Ooooh excuse me! Yes of course, Lord Snooty von Dickweed. Would you care for your pet poodle and a plate of caviar? Hey! Maybe we can find your balls, dude”

Of course he could just kick him out but it’s far too much of a hassle. He’s genuinely pleased, albeit subtly so, when he managed to snatch up a walkman off a victim so he can listen to his music in peace. 

We’ve seen him smoke, but no one really gathers just what a chimney this guy is. David smokes practically every hour, when one burns out he just snags another. Any reason is a good reason to pull out a cigarette. Stressed? Smoke. Hungry? Smoke. Tired? Smoke. Happy? Smoke. But worst of all are his nicotine withdrawals. Seriously, do not approach him when he’s run out of cigarettes. It doesn’t matter who you are. Last time Paul tried to tease him while he was waiting for nightfall, David nearly threw him out into the sun. Withdrawal is far worse as a vampire than it was for him as a human.  His restless legs get far more jittery, his back can cramp, it’ll give him an agonizing headache, and his hunger is somehow amplified. 

Surprisingly, he can’t stand the 1931 film of Dracula with Bela Lugosi. Not that Lugosi doesn’t do a good job. In fact, it’s far too good. While not appearing visually the same as Vlad Dracul, the bastard who just so happened to be responsible for turning him and his friends back in 1906, his personality is extremely close. Just watching him slink in the shadows, waltzing about in that chilling Hungarian-Romanian accent boils David’s undead blood. If he’s going on the Universal monsters, he prefers Boris Karloff in Frankenstein. 

Over the years David has picked up Russian and French. When you’ve been unchanged in an abandoned wreckage of a hotel  for over eighty-one years, you learn to pick up a few things. Currently he’s learning German which he finds rather easy so far although he finds himself speaking a tad choppy at times. Sometimes he’ll use the wrong language and end up asking Paul to bring him the wine bottle of blood in Russian. Needless to say he was utterly confused and had to be retold in English.

Despite what one might assume, David does not enjoy having sex with multiple partners. Not polyamory, just sex in general. He finds that hollow humping up against some seasoned tart behind a bar before bidding adieu does nothing for him. If there’s no intense intimacy there’s less really keeping him invested. Now love isn’t exactly what is required, but there has to be some sort of connection to give him the desire to pursue a lover. Quality over quantity. Getting to know his partner is an exciting endeavor that allows him to take control, dominating him or her until they are utterly helpless to his will. A quick fuck is nothing but a way to kill time, which frankly he can find so many more productive things to do when he’s bored that require much more brain power and a lot less sticking himself in something, sorry, someone that he honestly doesn’t know where they’ve been. 

Halloween, of course, is his favorite time of year. However he also has a soft spot for Christmas. Frankly the whole peace on Earth and goodwill towards men crap makes him sick simply because no one had ever given a crap about him, but the entire feeling of it all did give him a sense of calm. The lights are a stunning sight for sure, and he'd even have a few less shitty humans mistaking him for one of the teen runaways living on the Santa Carla streets. Well, he wasn't , but he wasn't about to tell that to some sweet old lady handing out rusty tins of fresh brownies. Who the hell could waste brownies? Not him. His favorite memory goes back to 1904 when he and the boys managed to scrape up enough dough between pick pocketing gigs to share a room at a decent hotel. The managers wife even brought them up the leftovers from their own Christmas dinner, half a roast bird, a plate of rolls, a fat bowl of mashed potatoes and some gravy. They of course were grateful, and Paul couldn't help but flirt just to kiss ass. Dwayne got Paul a new knife, Marko got David this pretty swanky looking cigarette case he snatched off some rich dick who mistook him for a shoe shiner, David found some old iron ring they couldn't sell and gave it to Dwayne, and Paul got a few bottles of rum for them to get Yuletide hammered. Sure it didn’t sound like much of a big deal, but sitting on a real bed for once by a fireplace slamming back booze and roast chicken while whooping Marko’s ass in black jack was the first time in a long time he had genuinely laughed. Since then its been particularly blase, but Marko and Paul will often make a tradition out of a few bottles of booze, throwing some cheap decorations around the hotel, and they all spend the night playing card games over some take out roast chicken and a few quick sides. 

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: El Ojo (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong? 

Warnings: swearing, injury to reader, alcohol and drug abuse, threatening with guns, brief mentions of torture, description of injury and blood, unwanted touching, flirting, bad thought processes (addiction). PINK SHIRT 

Word Count: 5k 

A/N: Had a little change of plan last week, this is now the final chapter of this series. I am so sad to end it now, I’ve loved writing this so much. My first time writing for Narcos so thank you so much for all the support y’all I’ve given me with this. I love you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter!! 

<-- Previous Chapter // Masterlist //  Next Chapter -->

--

You were on a winning streak. Since you’d found the list of sicarios and matched that up with the more current information, you’d presented it to Carrillo and surprisingly he was on board. With his help, you had brought down five, admittedly low level but increasingly more valuable, sicarios. If you didn’t think about the torture and abuse each of them undertook once captured, used to break them into more telling more information, you could say you were doing a good job. Escobar’s organisation was shaking. You were coming for him. 

You and Steve leant against a wall, soaking up the sunshine chatting amongst yourselves when you saw Javier arrive. You hadn’t expected him to come at all, having disappeared without a word early on in the morning. He parked his truck close by, walking over to you and Steve with his vest in hand. You grinned and jabbed Steve when you saw the shirt Javi was wearing. 

The pink shirt had been a long-standing joke since you’d found it in his closet a few months ago. He had many colourful shirts, was known for them, but the pink one always seemed like another level. You and Steve teased him about it constantly, though you had to admit it did look good on him now. Javi scowled when he saw you and Steve’s mischievous grins, immediately realising his mistake. 

“I know you get called the Whore of Bogata but you don’t need to dress like it! Jesus christ Javi!” You fanned yourself with your hand, grinning at him, “really I’m going to need a minute,” Javi flipped you off as you laughed hard.  

“Shut up, I look great,” He grumbled. 

“Just thinking about the poor flamingo you rinsed for that colour,” Steve joined in the teasing, shaking his head sadly. 

“You are just jealous you could never pull this colour off,” Javi said smugly. You laughed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come out today, could be quite distracting,” You said, pretending to be thoughtful. Javi’s frowned, only making you and Steve laugh more, “Aw don’t get pissy, Baby. We love you really” You teased him in a mocking voice, pouting at him. “You and your flamboyant choices,” You ruffled his hair up as you passed him. He tried to duck out the way but you caught him. He shoved you away, muttering expletives under his breath. You skipped a few paces out of his reach, flipped him off. 

“L/n!” Somebody called your name across the street, one of the technicians you’d been talking to before Javier arrived. You left Steve and Javier to talk. 

The technician explained the problem again, showing you the options for moving forward. It was quite common that things would go wrong before any kind of mission. Today was no different, the technicians had lost a signal and were now not sure that the address you had swarmed was correct.  

You chewed your nails while you thought. You could risk getting the wrong house, letting the sicarios know you were on to them and you’d lose them again. You could come back another day, but risk losing them again. Or you could ransack some innocent person's house and have Carrillo on your ass for ruining his reputation in the one week he’d left you in charge. 

 If you messed this up it would mean your stronghold would be lost. There would be time for them to work out what was going on and move everything again. 

At a loss, you excused yourself needing to take a break and a few minutes alone to think without soldiers trying to put in their two cents. 

As your work life had become more stressful over the last months. You had found some relief in, ironically, coke. It wasn’t a habit you were trying to form, but you had learnt just what good taking just a little bit could do for you. It quietened down your worried brain and made you simultaneously more aware of everything. You were better when you were just a little bit high.  

You had started keeping a small amount in your pocket. Hidden in a small sewing tin in your jacket pocket, you had started keeping a little coke on you especially for moments like this. You could take it, have a breather, and come back with a solution. It was fine. Nobody would know. 

You’d spotted a cafe across the road, and hoped they had a restroom. You gave an excuse to the soldier you’d been talking to and walked across the street.

“Oi Rookie!” Javi called as he noticed you walk past on the opposite side of the street. “Where are you going?” 

“Going to the bathroom. Women’s issues,” You called back, Javi and Steve grimaced. That was always the best excuse.

While you wouldn’t do it at the compound you didn’t have any reservation here. You’d been itching for a hit all morning and there was only so much more you could take. You walked into the cafe, asked for the direction of the restroom, and locked the door behind you once you were inside. Small, dark and stinking of pee, it was not the best place but hygiene wasn’t particularly an issue you were worried about. 

You tipped a small amount from the box onto the sink counter, lined it up with a card from your pocket, bent down and took it up your nose. You grimaced, while it had burnt your nose somewhat it still stung. But it was worth it when the feeling began to kick in. You smiled at your reflection and double-checked your appearance in the mirror, wiping your nose. Nobody could ever tell. 

As usual, the drug kicked your brain into gear again and everything fell into place. The raid went brilliantly, by pure coincidence you’d bagged two sicarios in one as your original target had invited your next round for dinner with his new girlfriend. Your plan well into the swing of things now, much to everyone’s surprise. 

—

Like every weekend for the last three months, you were going out. The line between enemies and friends was long since blurred, hanging out with ‘Isabela’s’ friends was not an issue. Most of the time you weren’t even trying to get anything from them, you’d got what you needed months ago. As fun as Javier and Steve were, it was much more enjoyable to hang out with people your age. And they wouldn’t give you cocaine, María had it on tap. 

You were dressed up, recently treating yourself to a new outfit as a job well done. A black off the shoulder top, covered in lace, and a little black mini skirt. You felt sexy, you were going to have a very good night. 

“Rookie!” Javier called out to you as he came out of the apartment building. You were standing outside waiting for a taxi, smoking a cigarette.

“Javi, baby, you’re looking slick! Where are you going?” You checked him out. He wore his signature tight blue jeans and an equally tight black shirt that was almost bursting at the seams. He looked incredible, as he always did. 

You were thankful that things had gone back to normal between you and Javier. The awkward stepping around each other had gone, you weren’t jealous. You acknowledged you would probably always like him a little more than was professional but that had fallen into a fun flirty banter that more than anything just wound Steve up.

You found yourself calling him Baby more than his name, it’d started as a joke to get back at him for always calling you Rookie but now it was so commonplace people had stopped picking you up on it if it slipped out while you were working.  

It was fun. You cared for each other, that was clear to even a blind man, but there was no romanticism to the relationship anymore. There was no need. It wasn’t good for either of you. You’d found a comfortable rhythm and were going to stick to it. 

“Out,” He shrugged, “That’s a new top,”

“You noticed?” 

 “Course, can’t keep my eyes off you,” He purred, happily playing along with your game. 

“Thought you’d be more interested in the skirt,” 

“Will you two quit it?” Steve’s voice interrupted your flirting as he walked down the stairs. You barked in laughter. 

“Steve! So it’s a boys night I see? Where was my invite?” 

“Figured you’d have your own plans,” Steve said. 

“And you are correct Murphy but it’s always polite to ask,”

 “Next time,” He assured you. “Where are you going tonight?” 

“I don’t know. Some club, El Ojo or something?” You shrugged, “Seeing as this is maybe Isabela’s last time out I am going to go out with a bang, literally,” You raised an eyebrow, insinuation of your worlds made Steve roll his eyes. 

You were hoping within the next few weeks to be able to close in on some higher level sicarios and associates to Escobar. Drawing the noose in slowly so he wouldn’t notice until it’d choked him. That meant your position as Isabela was going to have to come to an end to keep you safe from your own program. You’d discussed it at length with Peña and Murphy, while you didn’t agree you had to listen to them. They were still your superiors after all, no matter how close friends you were. 

“If you told past you you were going to willingly sleep with a Narco I think you would have passed out,” Steve laughed. 

“I’m a changed woman Murphy, what can I say,” You smirked, “Imagine what I’ll be like by the end of the year,” 

“God help us,” Javier shook his head, a smirk plastered on his face. You laughed and stubbed out your cigarette with your shoe as your taxi pulled around the corner. 

“Here’s my ride. Have a good night, boys. I will be back in the morning,”

 —

El Ojo was just as María had told you. Modern and smoke-filled, people were filling every inch of the space. You walked in and couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face. This was exactly what you needed. Crowds were anonymous, nobody cared who you were or what you were doing. Everyone was just there for one reason, to have a good time. 

You ordered a drink at the bar, flirting with the man next to you briefly before taking the drink and finding your friends. As usual, they were up in the VIP area, courtesy of the Parreño name. You walked up and were let inside the cordoned-off area to find Diego stood up on his seat, wild-eyed, shouting about something. It wasn’t until you got closer that you heard what he was saying. 

“I’m telling you Isabela is lying!” He shouted above the music. 

“What’s going on?” You asked. None of the ten people surrounding the booth noticed your approach, their eyes shifting awkwardly when they saw you. 

“You! You’re a liar!” Diego pointed down at you, hatred burning behind his eyes. 

“What is going on?” You asked again. You looked around for María, she was usually the one to step between you and Diego, but she was nowhere to be seen. This was not the kind of conversation you’d wanted for this evening. 

“You were the only one to survive that raid at Carlos’,” He continued, jumping off the couch to your level,  “That fucking maniac Carrillo killed everyone but you! You’re working with them, aren’t you?” 

“You’ve lost it,” You rolled your eyes, “Completely lost it,”

“You don’t deny it!” He yelled. You gulped, trying not to look scared of the man but the rage in his eyes was shaking you. You stepped backwards as he advanced toward you

“You’re insane!” You laughed in his face, “I’m not a fucking spy, especially not for Carrillo,” 

“Bullshit,” He spat, Suddenly he pulled a gun from his back, waving it in your face. People shouted and screamed around you, scattering as the metal glinted in the light. Your eyes remained on his, not saying a word as he pressed the barrel into your neck. You didn’t move, barely breathing, “You’re a fucking rat,” He growled.

“Diego!” Finally, María stepped in, running over when she heard the commotion. “Stop it, put it away. Idiot,” She pulled the gun from his hand, standing firmly between you and him. “Ignore him. He’s paranoid. Someone’s leaking information and he thinks it's you because he’s a jealous asshole,” Maria explained, swiftly pushing him backwards until he sat back in the booth again, “How fucking ridiculous would that be? You? A spy!” 

“Insane,”  You agreed through a clenched jaw. Diego continued to glare at you dangerously, leaning over to whisper something to a friend. 

“I swear if we get banned from this club because of you Diego I am leaving you,” María said angrily, “Come on, I want to party,” She linked her arm through you, not caring that you were still in shock from having a gun held to you, and dragged you to the bar.

Fortunately, copious amounts of vodka and tequila were great for calming your nerves. In a few hours, you had nearly forgotten the entire ordeal. You couldn’t think about anything more than the music ringing in your ears and how good it felt dancing on the stranger behind you. 

After a while, María pulled you back up to the booth where Diego and his friends were still sitting. You did your best to ignore him, chatting to one of the girls at the table instead. You laughed and did a few lines, generally relaxing into the evening. So relaxed you didn’t notice the newest member of the group until he finally addressed you.

“Don’t I know you?” You looked over and panic spread over you like a bucket of ice water over your head sobering you almost instantly. He did know you. The man before you was the first man you had arrested, almost six months ago. He must have been bailed out for jail. 

“No,” You answered confidently. You didn’t lie. You didn’t know him, not really.

“Gabriel, sit down!” María cheered, “Isabela this is my cousin, Gabriel. Gabriel, Isabela,” She introduced you. Her cousin. Of course. You smiled politely, praying the dim lights would hide the nervous sweat that had overtaken you. 

Gabriel looked confused but didn’t say anything if he did recognise you. Not that that would matter anyway, as soon as he spoke to Diego his memory would no doubt be jogged. If he found out you were a DEA agent you would be dead. You had to leave.

“Here take my seat, I’ve got to get some air for a minute,” You stood up, letting him take your place next to Maria. You caught Diego’s suspicious look as you walked past, spotting the nearest exit door. 

Your hands were shaking, your body not sure what to do with itself. The cocaine and alcohol said to go back inside and take them all out. What was left of your rational brain was consumed by fear and kept you outside. It was bad enough if someone like Senator Parreño had suspicions about you but Diego? Gabriel? Diego had already shown he wasn’t afraid to threaten you in public. Of the two of them joined heads they would connect the dots and your cover would be blown wide open. So would you, you thought morbidly. Coke and anger never mixed well. 

You took breathes of the warm summer air, leaning against the wall of the club as you tried to calm yourself down. You shouldn’t have taken the last shot, now verging over the edge of blacking out; your vision was spotty, sound not registering properly and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. 

You wondered if Steve and Javi were nearby, the fresh air having the opposite effect than you’d wanted. You would blackout and you were going to need help to get home if you did. But you didn’t recall either of the men telling you where they were going, they could be anywhere in the city. 

Stumped for the moment, you decided to wait it out, lighting a cigarette hoping that might help sober you up. You pulled the packet from your purse

“Need a light?” A man appeared next to you, lighter in hand. You nodded and he flicked the flame up, you bent over and lit your cigarette between your teeth. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled, turning away from him, hoping he would leave. He didn’t. Instead, the man continued to stare at you, following you into your personal space as you shuffled away from him. 

“Can I help you?” You snapped, immediately getting a bad feeling about him. You crossed your arms over your chest, frowning at him. 

“No need for that tone baby. Come on, I wanna talk to you,” He purred. His eyes dipped to your cleavage, a lustful look in his eyes. 

“I’m not interested,” You said, stepping backwards away from the man. He seemingly didn’t hear you, continuing to get into your personal space, arms reaching out to grab your hips. 

“You were interested earlier. Come on, baby,” He purred, pulling you close to him, pressing his hips against yours. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled, pushing him off hard enough to make him stumble backwards. 

“Fucking bitch,” He growled. 

If you were sober the situation would have a very swift end. You would punch him square in the face and he would leave you alone, scuttling away with a broken jaw and a shattered ego. However, you were not in a state to do that now. He had the upper hand. All you could do was run, hoping once you were back amongst people he wouldn’t attack you. You looked up the alley, the open street was just a few feet away. 

You bolted.

Unfortunately just as you didn’t have enough coordination to punch the man, you didn’t have enough to run in heels on the uneven floor. Not even ten foot away your legs wobble, heels falling into a pothole sending you forward. You fell into a dumpster, head hitting the corner of the metal with a thud. You yelped, vision going black for a moment as you lay on the concrete. 

“Hey hey hey,” A man ran over, instantly scaring the man off of you. He knelt by your side and helped you up from where you’d fallen. You groaned and pushed yourself up, head throbbing harshly, warm liquid trickling down your face. Your world was spinning even with your eyes closed. “Y/n, Fuck are you okay?”

“Get off me!” You exclaimed, trying to push the stranger off, not that your shaking arms were very effective. 

“Y/n hey it’s me, you’re okay!” You looked up and saw Steve through a haze of blurred vision. You squinted as something dripped over your eye. Steve then saw the cut to your head, “Oh shit,” Your eyes are glassy and blown out, you mumbled something to him and pushed yourself out of his reach again, wobbling and tipping backwards. He caught you before you hit the floor again. “Y/n what are you doing out here? Weren’t you with your friends?”

“Her brother was the first guy,” You said, your speech slurred so much Steve barely understood what you were saying.

“Rookie, you’re not making sense. What are you on about?” 

“I’m so fucked,” You sighed, letting your head rollback. You giggled as the world spun. 

“Yeah, I can tell, come on let’s get you home,” Steve stood up, holding his hands out to you and pulled you up to standing again. 

“Where’s Peña?” You asked. 

“At the bar,” 

“I want to go talk to him, let’s go talk to him!” You exclaimed. You began to walk in the opposite direction, dragging Steve along by the arm. He pulled you back with ease. 

“You can talk to him in the morning, we’re going home,” He insisted.

“But I have to tell him about the brother he’s going -,” Your rambling was interrupted as you threw up, barely missing Steve’s leg. He grimaced and jumped out of the way, “I have to talk to him,” You said quietly once you were done. 

“Tomorrow, Kid,” He repeated himself.

You pouted, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes but you didn’t fight him. Despite how drunk you were you knew that going home would realistically be the best course of action right now. You could barely string a sentence together let alone get anything important out coherently.

Steve got you into a taxi, luckily the driver paid no attention to the blood dripping down your face. You were falling asleep on his shoulder as you pulled up to the apartment, Steve pulled you out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment. Only when he opened the door, he was met by Javier and Vanessa also on their way inside.

“Woah!” Javier instantly turned his full attention to you when he saw the state you were in, hanging onto Steve’s sleeve, “What happened?” 

“Some guy tried to touch her up, she hit her head, I’ve got it covered,” Steve explained.

“Hey Baby,” You grinned, obviously giving Javi a once over. 

“She doesn’t look alright,” Vanessa commented, “Did she just call you baby?”

“It’s a long story,” Javi dismissed the comment. “She doesn’t look okay,”

“I’ve got it covered. I’ll get her to throw up and get some water to sober her up,” Steve said, “We’ll be okay, won’t we Rook?”

“Fine and dandy!” You grinned.

“If you’re sure,” Javi said hesitantly. You were gone, hanging onto Steve’s arm to hold yourself up. Your eyes were blown out and blank, if you remembered anything in the morning it would be a miracle. His first reaction was to help you, not sure Steve could handle you alone. Steve wasn’t exactly sober himself, sinking a good few beers with Javier in the bar before he’d left. However, his decision was made for him as you and Steve began walking up the stairs, Vanessa’s hands were back on him and any worry was squashed as she dragged him into his apartment.

Upstairs, Steve took you into his apartment. He took you to the bathroom, sat you on top of the toilet and rooted around the medicine cabinet to find some cleaning supplies so he could patch up your bleeding head. 

“Connie’s probably got something in here,” He rooted through the cabinet. Connie had gone back to Miami for the week to see her family, inconveniently right when her skills were needed. Steve’s tipsy attempt at first aid would have to do,“Ah-ha! Here we go, clean that cut out with this,”

“Ow!” You whined, flinching away from him quickly when he showed you the antiseptic bottle. 

“I didn’t touch you,” Steve chuckled, “Hold still,” Carefully he poured the liquid over a cotton ball, took hold of your face in the other hand and dabbed the cotton on your cut. 

“Ow! Steve that fucking hurt,” You complained, flinching away from him as the alcohol stung the wound on your head. You frowned at him, tearing up a little. 

“Don’t be a baby,” 

“I am a baby!” You exclaimed. Steve grabbed hold of you again, he needed to clean the wound if it was going to heal properly. You whined and hissed at him but eventually, it was clear. 

“Look, all done, got the grit out,”

“Thanks, Steve,” You kissed his cheek quickly. 

“You’re welcome,” He laughed awkwardly. “Come on, you can’t sleep on my toilet. Bedtime,”

“You’re not my type,” You scrunched your nose and leant away from him. 

 “Ouch way to break my heart Rook,” Steve chuckled, “No, you’re going to your own bed, by yourself,”

“It's so far away!” You whined. 

“It's across the hall!” He copied your tone making you laugh. 

Steve pulled you up from the toilet and managed to wrangle you across the hall. Half asleep, leaning into Steve before you even got inside the apartment, you fell into bed without protest. Steve pulled off your shoes, throwing them on the ground before stumbling back to his apartment to collapse in his bed. 

—

Waking up in your apartment unsure of how you got there, was a strange feeling. What was even stranger was the harsh throbbing on your head. You blindly brought a hand to the sight, recoiling instantly as you touched something sore. You sat up, slowly opening your eyes to the daylight and looked at your reflection in the mirror opposite your bed. 

You groaned when you saw the gash on your forehead. Dried blood sat in the creases of your neck, and underside of your jaw as well as being crusted into your hair. You tried to remember how you’d gotten the injury but came up blank. You couldn’t remember anything from the night before. Not unusual for your almost nihilistic habits, but it was concerning given the infliction. 

You looked at the clock. 9 am. You’d slept in. Since you were up you decided to clean yourself up. You padded to your bathroom, wincing at the harsh light inside and the grinding sound of the extractor fan. You filled the sink with warm water and gently cleaned the blood from your face with a cloth, only once stopping to throw up into the toilet. 

You showered, hot steam help clear your brain fog but not helping the cut on your forehead which now stung immensely. But that wasn’t the feeling you were concentrating on. 

A new kind of hunger, one you weren’t yet familiar with had settled in on the back of your tongue. A repeating idea chanting over and over in your head. It had partly been cocaine’s fault you’d got into this mess, but it would get you out of this hangover now. 

You remembered you had some in your jacket pocket from the day before, leftover. Once you’d thought about it there was no stopping you. You didn’t have to take it all, you could stop yourself if you wanted. You pulled the tin out from your coat, sit it down on your dressing table while you pulled on some clothes. 

 You sat back at the dressing-table again once you were done and stared at the box. You’d not done it here more than once or twice. Never by yourself. Something about being at home with it made you feel guilty, possibly because you were surrounded by your friends who also happened to be DEA agents who would kill you if they found the stuff in the building. 

You picked up the box, contemplating it. You could get something done if you took it. Wouldn’t have to sit in your hungover state and wallow in self-pity until the headache left. You could go for a walk. Do nice things. Taking the cocaine would bring you nice things, as it always did. 

You opened it. 

“Morning,” Javier’s voice inside your apartment suddenly startled you, causing you to spill the contents of your box all over your dressing table. 

“Fuck,” You swore out loud. 

“Okay in there?” You regretted giving him a key. You did not need the interruption. His voice snapped you back to reality. You decided you didn’t have time, or rather not wanting to be caught red-handed, you decided to leave it and greet your surprise guest. 

“Good morning,” You said brightly, opening and closing your bedroom door tightly behind you. Javier was standing in the middle of your living room, a book in hand flicking through it. He discarded it back to the coffee table where he’d found it when you appeared. 

“Just wanted to check you were alright, you looked rough last night,” Javi said, “that cut looks sore,”

“It stings but it’ll be ok in a few days,” You shrugged. Javi looked at you strangely, “Did you come up here for something?” You asked. 

“You don’t remember what today is?” He asked. You frowned and thought for a moment. 

“It’s your birthday?” You asked slowly. 

“No,”

“It’s my birthday?”

“I don’t know when you’re birthday is,” 

“Javi I’ve obviously forgotten please just tell me,” You pleaded. 

“Searchblok, you and Steve swapped. Remember?”

“Shit!” You exclaimed. How could you have forgotten?! You scrambled back into your room to get changed, boxer shorts and a hole-ridden t-shirt wouldn’t cut it. 

“I should write you up for the mess you were in last night,” He called through the door as you rushed to get dressed, pulling on the nearest jeans on your floor. That’s not the only thing you should write me up for, you thought looking at the cocaine on your dressing table.

“I should write you up for sleeping with hookers,” You said back.

“Nowhere in my contract does it say I can’t! You however have a reckless behaviour clause,” He said. Your heart stopped at that, opening the door quickly to pop your head out.

“Javi-“

“I’m joking Rook, don’t worry!” Javier laughed. You rolled your eyes and shut the door again, pulling on a fresh shirt. A few seconds later you stepped out, buttoning the last of the clasps on your shirt. “I was worried about you but you’re fine so we’ll forget it ever happened,” 

“Thanks, Baby,” You grinned at him. Javi rolled his eyes.

“You need to stop that though,” 

 “You love it,” You teased him. He didn’t reply, turning on his heel and walking out. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back at your bedroom door. The coke was still lined up in there, calling to you. It would only take a few seconds to do it and get rid of your hangover for a few hours.

“Rookie, hurry up!” Javi called you from the hallway, audibly impatient. You decided against it, grabbing your keys and a jacket and running to catch up with him. He was already waiting by the truck by the time you got downstairs. “Did anything interesting happen last night, then?” Javi asked. You tried to think for a moment, you remembered something important had happened, something you’d wanted to tell him last night but you couldn’t remember what. You shrugged.

“Apart from getting this,” You gestured to the injury to your forehead, “I can’t remember. There was something but I don’t know,” 

“Can’t have been very important then,” Javi added. You shrugged and shook your head. 

“Guess not,” 

Next Chapter  -->

--

Finally we’ve come full circle, I am so sad it’s over I have absolutely loved writing this series. Again I want to say a massive thank you to everyone’s that read the series, it means more than you could imagine. I love you all. I’m going to have a cry and make a start on all the other things I’ve been neglecting to write this.

The ending is already written and posted so if you haven’t read it go enjoy :))

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