#would've added a few more but it's LATE

[silverlizard012]

Incredibly late to the party but art block be damned I finally finished some vice/virtue fanart!

Envy Max and Sam belong to @pikaflute

Lust Max belongs to @lizardtheartist

Charity Sam belongs to @gaycrittercentral

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Five

- Little Big Surprise

Series Masterlist

wc: 3.3k

The house felt too empty, too quiet.

Isabella has been at her father's house for the past week and you missed her dearly. So, you had to find new hobbies to pass the time. You should've been used to the days she isn't home but you still aren't.

A new addition to your routine was your newfound hobby; watching Formula One races, or more so, watching Max race.

You would've been a fan even if you didn't know him personally, purely based on his driver skills, but that little detail made every moment of the race a tad bit more special. Your eyes would always try to find him on the track with the others, which he was in front of, leading.

You even found out that you could watch an on-board camera for a specific driver while watching the main race screen as well. It was very obvious whose camera feed you chose to watch.

This was the first time you watched the race after coming back from The Netherlands, mainly because it's only been a week since.

Though it wasn't fun watching the race without Isabella, or more like without her own added commentary.

Fortunately, Isabella's father would be dropping her off today. Until then, you had to find a way to pass the time.

Picking up your phone, your finger hovered over Max's contact. The last time you spoke was yesterday, when you congratulated him for the win over text.

You caught up on your pending work, meeting clients, writing up contracts, and even began designing the floor plans. One of the perks of working as a freelance interior designer, was that you could complete it at your own pace. The downside, however, was once you were done, you didn't really have anything else to do.

You worked for a few hours today, so your little break where you contemplated to call Max was well earned.

But before you could decide whether or not you wanted to call him, your phone rang with a call from him.

You quickly answered, greeting him with, "I was just about to call you, but I thought it'd be too late for you." You remembered that even though it was daytime for you, it was nighttime for him.

Max hummed, "too late? Oh wait, you're right, it's well past midnight." You furrowed your brow as his response confused you, but you didn't comment on it.

"So, what's up?" You asked, wanting to know why he called.

"You actually left something when you came to the race, and I kept forgetting to mention it, but I was thinking of sending it back to you as a package," Max explained, and you began to wonder what you had left behind.

"Yeah, sure that's fine, I actually have no idea when I'm going to see you again either." You shut your eyes tightly as you regretted the words as soon as you spoke them. "I mean—" you tried to explain but he cut you off, "I know what you mean and you're not wrong,"

You told him your address for the package, still wondering what you left behind, but dismissed the thought once you heard some noises on the other end. Specifically, noises that would indicate a person is outside, such as traffic.

"Max, are you outside?" You asked, wondering what he'd be doing out at this hour. "What no! Hold on, can I call you back in a bit?" He didn't wait for your response, just hung up the call.

You held your phone in front of you, looking at the dark screen as if it would give you any answers, but as excepted, it didn't. Then, you dropped the thought or at least tried to since Max did say he'll call you back.

You made yourself an iced coffee before falling into the depths of online shopping. Before you could decide on buying anything, the doorbell interrupted you.

"Max" you gasped as you opened the door, seeing him standing on the other side, holding a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. "Hi," he grinned, eyes taking in your presence since it had been too long since he last saw you.

"You lied about the package," you commented though there wasn't any malice behind your words. "Consider me as the thing you forgot?"

You chuckled at his words but it quickly became quiet as you finally realized that he was truly standing in front of you. "Please tell me you have a work thing here and you're just stopping by because you were in the area?"

"I could tell you that, but it would be a lie," he shrugged. You hesitated before asking the next question, "and the truth is?"

"I just wanted to see you and Isabella again." Either he didn't realize the weight behind his words or he chose to ignore it but you stood there, holding the door, in surprise.

"And now I'm realizing it probably wasn't a good idea to drop by without asking you," Max's words lacked confidence but you quickly shook your head. "No, it's just that you keep surprising me by standing on the other side of the door," then you smiled and added, "this time it happens to be in a different country."

Again, he shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, but if he was able to hear the thoughts running through your mind, he'd know that this was a big deal to you. In the best way possible.

"So, can I come in?" He asked, as he was just idly standing by the door. "Oh yes, sorry."

He passed the flowers to you once he was inside. "I didn't know which flowers you like, but this seemed fitting," he explained the reason behind the sunflowers.

You wanted to ask why, but you held back because in the few weeks you've known Max, he always manages to say something that leaves you speechless.

"It's perfect, thank you. I think I have a vase lying around somewhere." You found one in the back of a cabinet next to your kitchen, and started filling it with water.

Max stood across from you and commented, "that vase should never be left empty."

You chuckled, more at the thought of the vase being full than his words. "It has been empty more often than not."

Although it was just a simple back and forth conversation, Max made a mental note to try and never let it be empty for as long as he knows you. Which he hopes would be a long, long time.

Max looked around the house, noticing a lack of a little ball of energy. "Where's Isabella?"

"At Tyler's. He'll drop her off in about an hour." Once you set up the flowers, you paused, realizing you have to make lunch for Isabella but you didn't want Max to think that you didn't want him here.

"Everything okay?" He asked, always noticing everything. "Yeah, I have to make lunch for Isabella." You didn't know what reaction you expected but it definitely wasn't a laugh.

Max stepped closer to you, rounding the kitchen island that was in between you two. "If you think you have to entertain me as a guest, who by the way showed up unexpectedly, I'm going to think you don't consider me a friend."

You broke out into a smile, realizing that you overthought the small situation. "I do consider you a friend, otherwise I wouldn't have ranted on and on about my job."

"I will say though, if you're making lunch, I want some too," Max added with a sheepish smile. "Isabella's lunch entails a homemade pizza and fries—made with freshly cut potatoes—because that's all she wants to eat every time she comes home."

"Fair enough, let's make extras for all of us," Max began rolling up his sleeves and washed his hands in preparation.

You couldn't help but laugh, "Max, what are you doing?" He looked at you as if his actions were obvious, "I'm going to help you. Did you think I was going to let you make lunch all by yourself?"

There he goes, leaving you speechless. You shut your mouth because you couldn't find a response, and began taking out the ingredients. "Just a warning though, you're gonna have to tell me what to do because I'm not the best chef," Max stated.

"It's okay, you can be my assistant," you responded which made him raise his eyebrows, "assistant huh? I like the sound of that."

You paused, looking at him with a playful glower before both of you broke out into laughter.

You passed him the potatoes after rinsing them, tasking him to peel and cut into strips to make french fries.

Although he didn't notice, you might've stopped a few times while kneading the dough to look at him. Unbeknownst to you, he did the same when you weren't looking either.

"So does Isabella go to her dad's often?" Max asked after a moment of silence. "Sometimes it's every other week, other times it's only a weekend per month," you explained.

Max had loads of questions about Tyler, but he was content in knowing only what you were willing to tell him. This time, you didn't continue the conversation about your ex, and Max understood that you didn't want to talk about it.

The topic was forgotten as soon as you accidentally smeared pizza sauce across your face. You truly had no idea how it got there, but only realized when Max brushed his fingers against your cheek to wipe it away.

However, he only smeared it further. He couldn't control his laughter as it spread and that prompted you to wipe it from your cheek and smear it on his.

He glared at you but it only lasted a millisecond as he grabbed a handful of dry flour. "Max," you warned, stepping backwards in an attempt to get away from him.

You didn't get far as his arm found its away around your waist to pull you back and hold you still. Then, he dumped the flour on your face, adding to the remnants of the sauce.

Your hands pressed against his chest to push him away but it was a useless attempt since he had you cornered against the counter so you had nowhere to go.

You spluttered since a bit of the flour got in your mouth and Max laughed at you. Then, you did the only thing you could think of. Grabbing Max's face, you rubbed your cheek dusted with flour and sauce against his. Now it was even.

Once the laughter died down, both of you noticed how close you were standing. Max couldn't back away because of your palms on his cheek and on the nape of his neck.

Your eyes widened slightly at the realization and you quickly dropped your hands so he could move. Max took a second too long to process that you weren't holding him anymore, before he created more space between you two.

Then, you noticed the time, "shit she'll be here in twenty minutes."

"You should go change, I'll take care of the rest," Max suggested and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "you're going to take care of it?"

He nodded like it wasn't a big deal. "You're the one who said you're not a good chef," you spoke with a teasing smile.

"I said I'm not the best chef, I can be a good chef," he reasoned and you couldn't argue with that logic. "Fine, as long as you don't burn my house down."

"I'll try," you heard him as you went upstairs to your room.

"He got me flowers," you muttered to yourself as you picked out a clean outfit. "He fucking got me flowers." The realization hit you hard, more so because you loved sunflowers, and he just happened to randomly guess the right bouquet. Which was something your ex could never do right even after you told him, mainly because he preferred roses and only bought you roses.

"It seemed fitting," you repeated his words, "Max, why do you have to be so nice?" You asked rhetorically as of course he wasn't there to answer.

You hurriedly went downstairs after washing up and changing to see whether Max had done anything wrong. Perhaps if he was a lousy chef, you'd have one complaint about him. So far, you have liked everything about him.

Fortunately, nothing smelt burnt, and nothing was broken. When you spotted him, he was frying the French fries.

You paused in your tracks, and took a good look at him so you could remember this moment later. Max looked very comfortable in your kitchen, in your house, as if it wasn't his first time. You hoped it wouldn't be the last.

"Looks like everything's fine here," you commented and he turned to look at you with a smile, "no burnt houses," he shrugged.

"The pizza still has a few minutes to go, and the fries are all done," he spoke as he gestured with his hands, but when he looked at you again, you had a stupid smile on your face.

"What?" That made your smile widen, "nothing, just, thank you for helping me."

"Always," he responded, already planning that he'll be around as long as you wanted him to be.

The doorbell rang, interrupting your peace but you were beyond excited to open the door and greet your daughter. Isabella definitely got the habit of being overly excited from you.

However, when you opened the door you saw Isabella standing beside Tyler with a frown on her face. "Hi angel, did you have fun?" You crouched down and ruffled her hair.

"Can I go inside, mama?" Her timid voice surprised you as she would usually answer that question happily. "Sure, sweetheart, I'll be there in a minute."

You watched her head inside before you stood up, closing the door behind you so Isabella wouldn't hear your conversation and faced your ex, "what happened?"

He scoffed, "nothing happened, I just told her that I won't be able to see her again as planned because I'm flying out of the country."

"Another business trip?" You asked and he nodded. "She usually doesn't get this upset any other time you cancel, did something else happen?"

"You know how she is, overdramatic," Tyler casually shrugged and that word ticked you off. "Don't you dare call my daughter overdramatic," you pointed at him harshly.

"Oh so now she's your daughter? Isabella gets upset easily, you know this."

"I do not want to hear you say that word again to describe her, I've heard it enough from you when we were together. Now tell me what happened."

Tyler sighed, and for a moment he thought about saying that Isabella was just like her mother, like you, but he didn't want to waste any extra time being around you.

"I introduced her to Emma," he stated as if it would explain everything but you furrowed your brows in confusion. "Who?"

"My girlfriend. Isabella noticed her around the house a few times so I thought it would be a good idea to introduce her," he explained and you were about to interrupt but he kept going. "I don't know if Isabella doesn't like her, but she's been in that mood ever since."

"Tyler, she has only seen us together, so of course if you introduce her to someone else, it'll take time for her to get used to it," you decided to explain in a calm manner.

"You don't have an issue with my girlfriend?" He asked and you raised your brows, "why would I? It's not my business unless it involves Isabella."

He shrugged, then laughed at his thought before saying it out loud, "well I hope that you don't have an issue explaining dating to her, that is, if you ever start dating again."

"My dating life is none of your business. Don't you have somewhere to be? Perhaps back to Emma?"

"Alright, I'll text you when I'm back in the country," he stated and turned around to leave but paused as he saw a new car in the driveway that he knew didn't belong to you.

"Whose car is that?" You laughed at his need to always be all up in your business, "goodbye, Tyler."

You entered the house with a sigh but the sight in front of you warmed your heart, making you forget all about the conversation with your ex.

Max was crouched down onto his knees to be at eye level with Isabella, who had two arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug.

When Max heard the door close, he opened his eyes and saw you. He removed one hand that was resting on Isabella's back and gestured for you to come closer.

Understanding his silent gesture, you crouched down right behind your daughter and wrapped her in a hug as well, so she was sandwiched between you and Max.

You placed loads of kisses on her cheeks until she started giggling. Isabella let go of Max and turned to face you, "mama, you didn't tell me that Maxy was here!" Just like that, her mood was drastically different from when she first arrived at the doorstep.

"He surprised me too, angel," you spoke as your gaze shifted to Max.

"Did you watch him race yesterday?" You asked Isabella, but her mood dropped again. "No mama, daddy was busy."

"It's okay, you can watch the next one with your mama," Max spoke, and Isabella nodded in agreement. "Okay!"

Then Max gasped, "the pizza!" He quickly rushed towards the oven to check on it, making you and Isabella laugh.

"Maxy made pizza?" She asked as she sat up on one of the barstools, which also happens to be her favourite place to eat even if you have a dining table.

"Maxy and mama made pizza," Max corrected, as he watched you cut it into slices.

"Are you ready for school?" Max asked once all of you began eating. You and Max also sat up on the barstools beside Isabella.

"No." She simply stated. Max frowned, "why not?"

"It's a big school, it's scary." Her words made you frown, "but you're a big girl too now."

"How about we go shopping tomorrow? Buy a new bag, more school supplies, and anything you want," Max suggested and this time you didn't stop him.

You already had a plan to take her shopping tomorrow, mainly because you already knew that Tyler didn't or else she would’ve been beaming about it.

"Even the glittery clips?" Isabella asks with a bright smile on her face, making Max chuckle, "yes even the glittery clips"

"Oh what about ice cream?" Isabella asked, and this time you watched Max become the victim of her pout and big round eyes. He looked at you for help, but you pressed your lips together, holding back a laugh.

"Yes, we can get ice cream too," he gave in making Isabella cheer.

"Alright, angel, finish your food." You gestured to her plate and she quickly obliged, stuffing her face with pizza and fries.

You were glad that Max was here, able to instantly uplift Isabella's mood. However you couldn't help but think about Tyler's words.

You never thought about dating again ever since you broke up with your ex, especially since Isabella was a baby and almost always with you.

But now that she was older, beginning to understand relationships, you thought about her reaction if you ever introduced her to someone you wanted to date.

Plus, you never met anyone that would make you debate the decision of whether to start dating again or not, that was until you met Max.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy

[navybrat817]

Back to the Office

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You got back to the office to get your phone and stumble upon something you shouldn't have seen.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Dark AU, minor character death, mention of blood, threat of violence, kidnapping, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @youdontknow-things requested Bucky and a visit Under the Boardwalk (dark) with prompt #28 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You quietly entered the building and sighed when you caught the time on the clock nearby. Most of the lights were off since everyone was gone for the night, but you didn't mind since you wouldn't be there for long. You just couldn't believe you made it all the way home before you realized that you forgot your phone, too preoccupied with reading a new book on the train. It was a downside of having to go into the office three days a week. Now you’d have to rush to make dinner or order out once you got back.

At least your desk was on the first floor and you could work from home tomorrow.

You passed by a few cubicles and shook your head once you made it to yours. It wasn't much, but it was still your space. “There you are,” you muttered, your phone sitting right beside your keyboard where you left it. Grabbing it, you smiled to yourself when you saw a text from your mom. She was always checking on you.

Just as you were about to respond, you noticed a dim light out of the corner of your eye. It was coming from your boss’s office. You should've known he was still there since it wasn't unusual for him to stay late. He was the kind of boss who showed up first and left last. He also had a good sense of humor to balance out his hard work ethic.

You walked down the hall before you could stop yourself and knocked twice on the cracked open door. He didn't say anything, but his rule was you could always go in if the door wasn't shut and locked. “You know, the company won't go under if you go home,” you giggled as you pushed the door open completely.

Your laughter died in your throat when you saw your boss facedown on the floor in a pool of his own blood. The sight and coppery scent that filled the room made your stomach roll and you tried to force air into your lungs as your phone fell from your hand. You felt paralyzed, unable to go to his side to check his pulse. But from how still his body was, you sensed he was dead.

What happened to him?

“You aren't supposed to be here.”

A deep and oddly pleasant voice you didn't recognize drew your attention past the body to the desk. A tall man clad in black from head to toe met your wide-eyed stare with a soft smile. With cobalt eyes, long dark hair, and broad shoulders, you would've found yourself attracted to him in any other scenario. But this stranger exuded danger.

You were in trouble.

“W-Who are you?” You asked, unable to keep your voice even. “What happened to him?” You added, not wanting to outright accuse him of anything.

He tilted his head. “I’d tell you, but…” He winked, the rest of the statement hanging in the air as the tension skyrocketed.

I’d have to kill you.

Your legs shook before you took one step back. The second step you took made him frown. The third stepped he moved toward you. You turned and ran as fast as your feet could carry you. If he caught you, would you end up in a pool of your own blood, too?

Blame it on fear or disorientation, but you took off in the wrong direction. Instead of heading toward the front of the building like you should've, you went straight toward the supply closet at the other end. Your hand shook as you locked it behind you, your legs giving out as you caught your breath.

Fear raced down your spine as you cowered on the floor, blankly staring at the door in front of you as you hugged your knees to your chest. You bit your lip and tried not to make a sound when slow footsteps approached. Maybe there was a chance that the man didn't see where you went. It was a stupidly optimistic thought.

And you couldn't believe you dropped your phone. You could've tried to call or text someone for help. Would it have done you any good though? By the time anyone got there…

“I know you're still here and I’m sorry. I was kidding with that whole ‘I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you’ implication. Bad joke given the circumstances.” His voice rang out clearly through the door. “Bet you’ve never seen a dead body before. I know it can be quite a shock.”

The image of your boss dead in his office was one that would haunt you.

“Everyone calls me Bucky,” he said, so casually that it unnerved you. How was he so calm? “It's a nickname.”

You never heard your boss or anyone around the office mention someone named Bucky. It was a name you would've remembered since it wasn't exactly common. What did he want?

“I was sent here to kill your boss. As you can see, I succeeded,” he continued when you didn’t respond, his voice slightly louder. Closer. “I’m very good at my job.”

You whined, tears burning your eyes. Your boss was kind to everyone. He had a family. Why would anyone want to cause him harm?

“Bet you didn't know he was mixed up with some bad people. Ones who aren't so forgiving with anyone who tries to steal from them. Of course you wouldn’t know. Why would you?” He mused.

Your heart pounded when he stopped in front of the door, his feet blocking out some of the light that came through. You backed up more as if that would help you. Whatever your boss was mixed up in, it didn't justify killing him.

“Sorry you had to see the aftermath. Like I said though, you weren't supposed to be here,” he went on, knocking twice on the door and making you jump. “Can’t say I’m entirely upset that you're here. My team and I like to be thorough when we research our clients. So, naturally, we have a file on you.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming or yelling at him. He didn't really have a file on you, did he? He was just toying with you. He had to be.

But when he spoke your name like honey on his tongue, you knew he was serious.

“Been working here for what? A few years now? Kind to everyone at the office. Their ‘go-to’ when they need help, but you’re underappreciated. No one even thanked you for that cake you brought in earlier this week.” Your stomach dropped when he chuckled. How did he know? “And you haven't gone on a date in about six months. Bet you're pent up. I can help with that.”

Your skin crawled, but you stayed quiet. Your life didn't concern him. Except in a strange way it did. Because your life was now in his hands.

A sigh came from the other end of the door. “I know you won't believe me, but I won't kill you. You’re innocent in this. I do have to take you with me though because I can't trust that you won't go to the cops. Can't have loose ends. You understand that, right?” Bucky said, his tone almost pleading with you to see it his way before he knocked twice again. “So open the door.”

No. You couldn't go with him. The man was a killer. “I won't go to the cops,” you promised once you lowered your hand from your mouth. You just wanted to go home. “I won't tell anyone what I saw.”

He chuckled again. “You’re so cute. And you're a good girl, aren't you?”

Heat spread up your neck. “Please, if you just-”

“You have two options. First option, you stay in there and I break down the door. If I have to do that, I'll drag you to my car, throw you in the trunk, and chain you up in the basement once we get to my home.” Fear shot through your body. “I'll feed you bread and water so that you don't starve, but it'll keep you weak enough that you won't be able to run far or fight back should you get out of your chains. Who knows how long I’ll keep you down there?”

Your mouth parted in horror and you wondered if he could hear how hard your heart pounded through the door.

“Oh. And I'll go through the contacts on your phone and start killing them off. One by one.” He paused when you choked on a sob. “I'll start with your mom and dad.”

Squeezing your eyes shut didn't stop a tear from falling. “Please, don't,” you begged. You couldn't let anything happen to them.

“Now that's the first option,” he said in a gentler tone. “The second? You open the door and come with me. I'll hold your hand while you sit beside me in the car and I'll make sure you're nice and comfortable when I take you into my home. I’ll feed and care for you, and your loved ones will be safe.”

A shuddering breath left your lungs. Going with him willingly was the lesser of two evils. “If I go with you, you really won't hurt my family or friends?”

“You have my word, doll face.”

He could snap your neck the second you opened the door. He certainly looked strong enough to end your life without breaking a sweat. Could you trust him to keep his word? Did it matter? You sealed your fate the second you came back to the office.

At least if you went with him, there was no reason for him to hurt anyone else, right?

“You said you had a team. What about them?” You asked, sniffling as another tear fell. Would they want you dead?

He cooed, like it would comfort you in a sense. “Don't worry about my team. They’ll be here soon to take care of the mess, but they won't lay a finger on you. You have my word for that, too. Just open the door.”

If you let too much time pass, he’d likely make good on his promise to break down the door and everything else after. “Okay, Bucky,” you said, as if saying his name would humanize him. You pushed yourself to your feet, wiped your eyes, and reached for the door handle. “I’m going to trust that you’ll keep your word.”

You barely had the door open before he reached in and grabbed your arm, yanking you out so you were nearly pressed up against him. Instead of pain like you expected, it was surprisingly gentle. His iron grip wasn't breakable though and there was no use in fighting. He won. Both of you knew it.

“I like how you say my name,” he smirked, holding up your phone before he pocketed it. You made a sound before he shushed you. “I won’t hurt them since you came out here willingly, but I can’t exactly give your phone back to you now, can I?”

“I guess not.” You swallowed, your throat dry. He pulled you close and you wished you could pull away. “When will you let me go?” You asked, hoping in your heart that he'd grow bored of having you around and set you free.

His brows furrowed, confused by your question. “Never,” he stated.

A single word snuffed out the hope like an extinguished flame on a candle.

“Never?” You whispered, fear filling you all over again when you looked into his eyes. You saw your future in them, something dark and cold. You longed to feel warm. “But my-”

“I have my very own doll to play with now, so why would I let you go? Oh, don't be so tense. I promised I’d take care of you.” With a loving smile, he used the other hand to caress your cheek. You would've collapsed in a heap if he wasn't holding you. “Let’s go home.”

Home to him. A prison to you. All because you just had to go back to the office.

So, that happened. Maybe we can revisit this yandere-like Bucky in the future? What do we think? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[bonchobrick]

So I’ve seen some posts going around about a ‘Bruce adopts Danny and everyone thinks they’ll finally have a normal family member—Danny is very not normal’ and here’s my late night take on it.

Or

Danny batfam au where they batfam tries really hard to keep their vigilante ass-kicking nightlife a secret from danny because he is ‘the only normal one in the family’ this becomes a problem however when danny gets kidnapped.

——-

The batfam all work together in a deeply serious family meeting to save their boy. After hours of combining their brains together they come up with a plan that will effectively save danny from joker, kick joker’s ass, and also make them look really cool while doing it.

So they bust in that warehouse, guns blazing, explosions fading in the background, a gust of dramatic dust covers the air

Batman steps infront of the rest of the team and demands to the blurry figure somewhere in the distance, “Where is Danny!”

The dust clears–they expect bad guys pointing weapons meancingly at them, they expect a cackle of a wicked clown amused at whatever plot he had planned coming to life, they expected a terrified boy perhaps tied somewhere likely siting in a chair that joker could present to the bats as a way of taunting them.

The dust settles–they observed their surroundings looking around and realize that, there are few new facts to be added into this ‘defeat the villain, get the bro, happy ending equation’

There is decidedly no weapons being pointed at them: In fact, all of the henchmen are already knocked out and tied up.

There is decidedly no evil laughs being echoed their way: In fact, the only noise that isnt coming from them is a light scritch scratch of a pencil

And there is decidedly no terrified little boy, there is a Danny however and he seems to be doing alright–actually scratch that.

Danny is doing wonders for the situation he’s in right now: In fact–

–Danny is sitting criss cross applesauce on-top a knocked out tied up Joker doing his algebra homework

The small blue eyed boy looks up at Batman's voice and visibly brightens, “Oh hey guys, I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Jason says with the utmost of comprehension, “...what.”

“So hi, I’m kinda new to gotham so sorry about beating these guys up, I think they’re villains? I dunno, anyways if you could take care of these guys while I call an uber home that’d be great.”

Danny sends them a blinding smile which would've been adorable if there weren’t a massive pile of bodies he were casually walking away from.

As Danny nears the exit he looks over his shoulder to the baffled group of vigilantes and blinks

“Oh yeah one last thing,” Danny rubs the back of his neck nervously, “Could you guys not tell the Waynes about this.”

Damian speaks up for the rest of his frozen family, albeit hesitantly, “I do think they have already been alerted of your kidnapping.”

“Oh no that's fine.” Danny starts nervously, “It's more about me being the… fighter… in this situation. I was just adopted by them and they seem really nice, I don’t want to scare them away being all grrrr im a scary monster boy and i love to hurt people argh.”

“I don’t think they’d think you're a monster.” Tim adds quietly

“Eh, tell that to my birth parents–they went psycho on me. Like evil scientist psycho, it was not as awesome as the movies make it sound, having scientists for parents.” Danny says bittersweet as he admits with a shrug

There is a moment of silence as the batfamily reevaluate the adoption file that states Danny’s family before they passed were very good people–albeit a bit excentric.

Dick blurts out, “Where did you learn to fight?”

Danny sends him an anxious chuckle, “I actually started when I was fourteen–my town always ran into some trouble so I had to step up. It’s part of the reason I moved here actually. I really don’t want anything to do with that hero vigilante life anymore…” The boy puts his hands together in a pleading motion, “So please don’t tell The Waynes!”

Bewildered at the situation as a whole they nod in a daze

The boys eyes widen at their easy agreement and he grins, “Thank you so so much! I’ve got to go now, it’s way past my curfew. but you’ll probably see me again next time I get kidnapped–I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you guys with my family bye!”

And just like that Danny slips off into the night leaving behind a family who were so sure they finally found a normal addition to their pack.

Jason sighs looking forlornly at the spot Danny had previously been standing, “You could just never pick the just semi-mentally healthy normal kids could you?”

Bruce groans pinching his the bridge of his nose

[x-gabrielle-x]

Interlinked

Pairings: Mattheo Riddle x Reader.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, major character death, blood, war.

Summary: Mattheo Riddle was hated by most, yet you saw more in him than what most could.

Mattheo Riddle knew that he wasn't the most approachable person out there, especially when more than half of the school referred to him as his father's son.

Besides his small group of close friends, anybody else was just another thorn in his side. He had come to learn that despite keeping his distance and reserved personality, he was still seen to be just like his father.

So of course, it was a shock to everybody when you had chosen to sit beside him in potions class away from your usual group of friends.

You hadn't said anything to him, merely sparing him a quick glance and small smile before you were placing your things down quietly onto the desk. He could see your friends in the corner of his eye gawking at you from across the room and silently waving you back over, one of them even going as far to call out to you, yet you paid them no mind and picked up your quill, scribbling down the notes written on the board before the professor continued on with the lesson.

He felt his gaze linger on you longer than he would've liked to admit, brows furrowed before he chose to let the silence thicken.

Mattheo knew then and there that this wouldn't be the last interaction he'd have with you.

It went on like this for a few more days. You coming into class and sitting directly beside him, showing him your bright smile that he desperately wished to hate despite the small warmth it gave him. At this point it became regular routine, and if you ever happened to be late for class Mattheo would ensure that your seat was kept empty.

It was a silent agreement between the two of you.

So once again when Mattheo caught himself staring at your bored expression in class, your head propped up onto the palm of your hand, he decided that for the first time it was time to break the silence.

"Not taking any notes today?" He couldn't help to hide the growing grin on his face when your head nearly snapped toward him, eyes wide as if you were checking that he was in fact talking to you.

You leant back further into your seat, shrugging as you turned to fully acknowledge him whilst also being discreet from the Professor as to not get caught.

"I'm just not really in the mood for it, I guess," you shrugged, giving him a small smile. "It's pretty basic stuff, anyways," you added.

He grinned once again, although this time he put no effort into hiding it. "Of course, one of the best students in class calls it 'basic.'"

He didn’t fail to notice the way your eyes lingered on his smile. He never smiled, really. Maybe the occasional half lipped smile to his few friends he had, but to you, it felt natural. Meaningful.

"It could be basic to you too, if you took notes and gave the lesson your full attention," you teased him, nodding to the board.

"Unfortunately, my attention is elsewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, and despite your attempt at hiding it, Mattheo noticed the obvious blush dusting your cheeks when he flashed you one last smile.

In truth, Mattheo wasn't awful at potions class at all. In fact, he found it to be one of his best subjects. He would never admit that to you, though. Not if it meant that you could continue to tease him about it.

The both of you quickly went silent when Professor Snape turned your way, eyeing mainly Mattheo for a second before he continued to pester poor Neville about what chapter to read from.

Small conversations would be thrown back and forth between the two of you, and Mattheo being himself, of course threw in many flirtatious comments, addicted to the way you'd attempt to change topic and hide the nervousness from him.

It didn't take long for him to realize he was craving for your attention every chance he could get. He found himself looking for you in the corridors and in the main hall when he happened to be walking with his friends, and it didn't fail to go unnoticed by them when his usual bored demeanor would instantly change when talking to you.

You would catch his attention with a bright smile and wave, before your friends were quickly pushing you away to giggle about the situation.

After practically begging you to help him study for the upcoming potions test, despite him not needing the help, he was insistent on getting to spend more time with you.

When you were both sat in the library with the few books you had brought over, Mattheo found himself watching as you concentrated hard on what you were explaining to him, with your brows furrowed and your eyes darting along each printed word on the page. Only it didn't last long when you suddenly closed the book and looked at him expectantly.

"You could at least pretend to be a little more interested, Riddle," you had teased when you discovered he hadn't been listening to you, earning a small chuckle from the boy sat across from you.

"Would it be a surprise to you that something else had taken my interest?" was all he said, watching you closely for a reaction. He caught the slight blush dusting your cheeks.

"You're funny, Riddle." You quickly turned away from him and picked up your book, opening to a random page to save you from the embarrassment of his words. You knew that he had you wrapped around his finger, and he loved it.

Christmas holidays had come, and of course the two of you were sad to go. The many bickering conversations and your smile would have to wait until next year.

"I'll send owls whenever I can, I better get some back, Riddle," you had said, throwing one of your jumpers into your bag as Mattheo sat watching from the common room couch.

He rolled his eyes at the comment, as if it were impossible to do so. "You'll be missing me that much, Princess?"

He caught you halting your movement, and you looked at him.

"Would it be a boost to your ego if I admitted I would miss you?"

He pretended to ponder, but he couldn't hide the grin on his face. "Not entirely sure, I guess were going to find out."

You rolled your eyes once more and zipped up your bag. "Then if it makes you feel better, I will miss you, Mattheo."

Nothing felt it had sunk in until you were stood on the platform to the train, Mattheo at your side and bags in hand. You would both be going to your homes, and the several months of friendship the two of you had built together would not make it easy for the next few to come.

Your father had insisted to pick you up himself, claiming he couldn't wait long enough for the train to arrive. Unfortunately, this would mean Mattheo would go by train alone.

So, when the both of you were saying your final goodbyes, of course it had surprised him to feel your lips press against the corner of his mouth.

You patted his cheek twice, to which he just silently gawked at you.

"See you soon, Theo," you smiled before turning away to find your father who was waiting somewhere nearby.

He watched you walk off, and without another thought he was turning on his heel and stepping on to the train.

Then he was gone.

Mattheo never sent a letter, and the months seemed to drag on the longer you waited. Every day you would run outside of your family home to check the mail, expecting, hoping, to see that he finally sent you a message. You couldn't deny the embarrassment every time you opened the mailbox to see it empty. Your hope was fading, but still, there was the smallest tinge of hope left deep in you.

You thought that maybe you were overthinking things too much. He did say he had plans for the holidays, after all. Your owl would wait by the window ready for you to clip another letter to her neck once again and fly off the moment you opened the window. No matter how many times you would send a letter, deep down you knew you wouldn't receive one back.

When school was finally about to start up again the coming week, you were beyond excited to see Mattheo again, despite the fact of his lack of letters. You were sure there was a reasonable explanation!

As he sat in one of the carriages in the train, his eyes zoned out of the window and watching the fog clouding the terrain, his memories flooded back in and for a moment he swore he felt a sharp sting on his forearm. Glancing down at the Dark Mark printed pure black, he remembers the exact moment his father had pressed the tip of his wand to his flesh and the searing pain that followed.

He felt as if the holidays had been the slowest they'd ever been. Being stuck in the same building as the Dark Lord feels like that, he concluded.

He was drawn away from his thoughts when he heard the carriage door slide open, and he wasn't surprised to see your face peeking in through the door with your usual smile, only it was brighter than he'd ever seen it.

Despite him not sending you letters; you were beyond happy to see him again.

Ignoring your excitement, you met his gaze and gestured to the seat across from him. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Truthfully, he wished for some alone time to dwell on his thoughts. He didn't need you or anybody else trying to strike up conversation with him, especially after he had been mostly ignoring your letters and leaving them stranded in piles upon his desk. The slight annoyance began to bubble in his chest, yet he gave a curt nod and continued to stare out the window.

You seemed to have caught onto his behavior, the awkwardness settling in once you closed the door behind you and watched in silence.

Your mind was swarming with questions you desperately wished to ask him - What did he do during the holidays? Why was he acting like this? Did he miss you?

You inhaled a breath before asking the question you had been craving to ask the most.

"You never sent me any letters over the holidays?" You regretted mentioning it the moment the words slipped your lips, and you bit the inside of your cheek when you heard a deep inhale come from Mattheo.

"Things get busy," was all he said, and the pang in your chest that followed caused for you to try think of anything else. He refused to look at you, and that only made the pang worsen.

"Oh, that's alright," you nodded, teeth pressing deeper into the skin of your bottom lip. "What did you do over your holidays?"

Mattheo shrugged, and you wished that he could just meet your eye the longer he stared blankly out the window.

"Nothing of much importance."

His bluntness to you confused you. Never had Mattheo attempted to be so short and bored with you, even when you were both at the awkward stage of just becoming friends. You took it as a sign to sit in silence the rest of the train ride back to Hogwarts, feigning it'll be back to normal once you're both settled into the regular routine again.

The longer the days passed at Hogwarts, the more Mattheo found himself hating your presence. You were always there - always following him like a lost puppy or trying to strike up conversation. He didn't want you here. Not at the moment. He couldn't.

You didn't fail to realize this either, firstly it being small things like the previous conversation on the train a few weeks ago. But then you found that Mattheo was physically avoiding you, changing seats to be on the opposite side of the class, leaving the dining hall whenever you attempted to sit with the rest of your friends. He never saved your seats anymore; even going as far as to make sure he was sat between other classmates to avoid you being near him.

You did miss him, but you also weren't one to push boundaries. Especially when it came to somebody you cared about as much as him.

You had tried to give him space, tried to give him time to come to you, but your own emotions were clouding, and you just wanted your old Mattheo. You had made sure to find Mattheo when he was alone, gently tugging on his arm and pleading for him to talk to you.

"Can't you just fuck off already? I don't need you here. You're a constant pain, how don't you see that?! I thought you would have gotten the hint ages ago!" He'd practically screamed in your face, and you had never felt more mortified than you did right now.

"Thats not what I'm trying to do at all, Theo-"

"You need to leave me the fuck alone, Y/N!"

He hated you. He hated you for making him feel this way. It was your fault. for making him care about anything in the first place, and it was your fault that he despised you for it. And most of all, he hated you for making him love you.

He could never forget the look on your face when he stood beside his father at the war, the tears seeming as if they were rivers along your dirty cheeks, cuts littering your body. Despite all that, in your pain seeing him, he still wondered how you had managed to stay beautiful even in these circumstances. Even with the blood from your wounds, you seemed like the brightest person here.

He so desperately wished to reach out a brush away the bloodied strands of hair away from your face, to apologies for everything. He couldn't stand the way your heartbroken gaze was practically burning into his soul.

Then the flash of green and a heavy thud echoed.

He hadn't even registered the war around him as he darted forward, tripping over his own legs as he dropped to his knees and cradled your body. He couldn't even hear his own wails and sobs over the screaming of his classmates.

He wished he hadn't looked down to the sight of you in his arms, because as soon as he did, he felt as if he had been stabbed in the chest. Your body was limp against him, your head lulled back to which he carefully readjusted his body to keep his arm supporting your neck. He could barely see with the tears cascading down his face and blurring his vision - some even dropping down onto your cheek and rolling off the slopes of your jaw. He quickly whipped it off with his thumb.

This couldn't be how you last remembered him, could it? He was pressing his forehead to your cold one the longer the seconds passed.

"You’re not leaving me, Princess, ok?" he was mumbling to you in your ear despite his sobbing. Deep down he knew you were gone, but the lingering hope that you'd flutter your eyes open and smile back up at him was haunting to him. He couldn't resist but to shake your shoulders in hopes that it would be true. "You need to get up now! It's dangerous," he cried longer, and in that moment, he couldn't care less what happened to him beyond that point, because the one thing he truly cared about was now gone.

He would never hear your voice again, your lips pressed against his, or your smile that he secretly wished to see every day. He wished that he could feel your hands running along his hair comfortingly as you whispered sweet nothing to him.

He would never be able to tell you that he did, in fact, read every single one of your letters. That he wished to write back. That he wished to see you every second of the day.

Your last memory of him would instead be of how he betrayed you. Left you, and fought against you in the war. Scared and broken because of him.

It was truly all gone, and he had never hated himself more in that moment.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[strlingsav]

Drive: Four

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Requested: @sarcanti 🫶🏻

For this anon too since it's pretty much the same thing!!

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Sipping intermittently from your room-temperature drink, your eyes reached Ghost's across from you. He was settled on a bar stool, watching you as you leaned against the bar, trying to avoid his penetrating gaze.

Music hummed from the speakers, a loud buzz inside the bar as it began to fill. It was late- dark and cool, nearing midnight without a shortage of people filtering in.

The two of you were content in your own world, hardly paying much attention to the conversation beside you; idle chatter from Soap and Gaz and a few other men you vaguely recognized from previous deployments.

Your leave was almost over; a few more days and you'd be back to base, far away from the cycle of unfamiliar habits. You missed the routine, knowing exactly what to expect day-after-day, but a break from the organized chaos and a little bit of freedom was enjoyable.

Simon opted to stay with you- a decision you'd not expected from him, brought up after he complained of having to stay in his own 'lonely flat'.

You'd meant it as a joke, an offer thrown into the air with no strings attached. It was another step toward something more serious than you were sure he was ready for, maybe more than you were ready for.

A nonchalant 'alright' was all he'd said, before he packed his bags and drove the two of you there.

In an effort to contain the growing relationship between you, you maintained that you were spending your leave with family. Your squad-mates were entirely unaware that the two of you were sharing your apartment, and you desperately wanted to keep it that way; you stayed light on alcohol to avoid any drunken confessions.

The bar was grimy and sticky, smelling like an ash tray and spilled beer, but it was comfortable. No obligations, no expectations- only Simon's blackened eyes undressing you from across the bar.

You were flustered, reasonably so, thighs squeezing together with the imagery of his long fingers gripping your waist instead of the glass in his hands. You broke eye contact, moving your attention to Johnny who'd been chatting away the entire time before it became obvious you were fantasizing about him.

You liked to keep your personal life private, especially from coworkers, even before yourself and Simon founded your new situation, if it were to be called anything. You liked things that way, and it came with an added bonus; no one ever pried.

It made your secret affair a bit easier to keep secret. The only downfall being that with the eyes of your teammates watching every move, there was no palpable excuse as to why the stranger across the bar couldn't buy you a drink.

You could've lied, said you were married or seeing someone, but it would've created another layer of secrets you'd have to remember to keep. So, you sucked in a sharp breath, smiled politely and nodded curtly as he slid onto the seat beside you and handed you a beer.

Simon watched the entire exchange. His rationale had nearly all but gone, mostly replaced by a stinging sensation in his chest that threatened his temper. Even as your eyes met his across the table, and he could see the nervous smile on your lips, he felt nothing but betrayal.

You could feel the warmth radiating off of him. His eyes had finally left yours and were honed in on the smiling stranger leaning in close, brushing your arm with his. It made you cringe to imagine how it made him feel- Simon already had a bad temper, inexplicably enraged by the smallest things, and this man coiling himself around you was sure to make him combust.

You sneaked a glance up, your eyes meeting, offering an apologetic expression. It didn't seem to have the intended effect, as Simon stood from his seat, pushing off without a word.

"Where're you off to?" Johnny spoke up, catching Simon before he could slink away.

"Gotta piss," He muttered.

You watched his shoulders sway as he sauntered to the washrooms, an overwhelming amount of guilt settling in your gut.

You made polite conversation, but your body was stiff as a board. It was difficult to allow yourself to play into the charade of interest, especially with the man you truly cared about fuming just metres away.

Simon had reappeared, finding the man with his hand on your waist, his body caging you off from everything and everyone else. He couldn't handle it- watching the exchange made his stomach churn, his chest tighten with anger. He abruptly left his seat, lunging for the exit.

You cleared your throat, throwing back the final sip of beer before turning to the stranger with a meek smile.

"Thanks for the drink. I've got to get heading out, though," You mumbled, your attention focused on Simon.

You offered a short goodbye to Johnny and Kyle, who seemed just as perplexed by your quick escape, before sliding from your standing position. The stranger didn't have a chance to reply; you were dead-set on the exit, hurriedly walking out to escape the clutches of his unwanted advances.

You found Simon leaning against the rough brick of the building, a lit cigarette lighting up the outline of his lips.

You wanted to blurt out, 'I'm sorry', but a trickle of resentment- and pettiness- made its way to your thoughts before that- you hadn't had the conversation yet. Maybe you never would.

You knew your situation was wrong, entirely wrong, and illegal- but the part of you that hadn't yet become numb to normal interactions wondered if that was what he even wanted; if he wanted only you.

"You done with your li'l show?" He asked, nonchalant, uncaring, but it had a bite to it.

"My show?" You repeated, watching him stand to his full height as he scuffed out the cigarette.

"With that bloke," He nodded his head, gesturing to the bar. "Lettin' him buy you a drink, touch you." His tone was venomous, accusatory- and you hated it.

"What was I supposed to do?" You scoffed.

"You've got a mouth, haven't you?" He was stepping toward you.

"That's not fair," You said, tilting your head. "People were watching."

Your voice faltered as he closed in on you, your eyes meeting his and finding the glazed-over expression of pure anger in his gaze. It made you feel guilty; maybe not irrationally so, but guilty nonetheless.

You wanted to go home, wanted to forget how you made him feel, forget how guilty your conscience was even when the stipulations of your situation weren't clear.

You turned on your heel, heading toward the parking lot at a leisurely pace, hoping he'd catch on that you wanted to drop it and go home.

"You want fuckin' fair?" He called, quickly catching up to you with fewer strides, slowing as he watched you pull the door of his truck open. "I ain't the one bein' felt up right in-fuckin'-front o'you." His hand reached the side of his truck.

You exhaled sharply, before turning to face him. Your glare was suffocating, standing to your tallest height as you furrowed your brows. He had cornered you against the truck, scowling down at you, though your expression could more than contend with his.

"You haven't asked me not to fuck or see other people," You threw your hands up, continuing before he could interrupt you. "Maybe if you had, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

There was silence for only a few beats, before he moved even closer. You knew it wasn't entirely true- neither of you had made the effort to discuss where exactly you were headed. Your flustered judgement got the better of you.

"You been fuckin' other blokes?" He asked, suddenly stepping closer, his voice quivering ever-so slightly. It wasn't sadness in his tone, it was jealousy, anger.

You tilted your head, nearly astonished by his ability to avoid the most prevalent argument in your statement. Regardless- it wasn't entirely the lack of commitment that lead you to accepting the strangers advances, it was the presence of your squad mates. Nonetheless, you'd honed-in on his noncommittal attitude and had no patience for hypocrisy.

"You expect me to believe you haven't been sleeping with other people?" You shot back, watching his eyes dart back and forth between yours.

You held your breath, subconsciously; you knew the answer you wanted- you wanted him to tell you it was special. You were special- but your Lieutenant wasn't that kind of man.

"Yeah," He answered, deadpanned and stern. "'Cause I haven't." He leaned in even closer, nearly nose to nose as he shrunk himself down to your face. "Answer my fuckin' question."

You gave a harsh no, hidden behind gritted teeth and tight lips. He was shrouded by anger, and instead he spoke over you, pupils expanding in the darkness, redness pooling in his neck and chest.

"Got me on a fuckin' leash while you're out shaggin' other people," He spat.

"I haven't slept with anyone else," You said. "But if you don't want to be tied down, you've always been free to leave." Your hands flailed as you fought back the tears welling in your eyes.

It had been a while since you'd been close to tears; especially because of a man. The familiar sting in your eyes, the lump growing in your throat. You'd had little expectation that Simon would be much different from others before him, and a part of you hoped otherwise, but it still caught you off-guard.

He straightened his back, still caging you in behind his arm. He released a quiet breath, his shoulders dropping as he took a moment to process the conversation.

"Didn't say that," He uttered, reeking of nonchalance, and a hint of surrender.

"You did," You said. "If it's how you feel, maybe we shouldn't see each other anymore." Your gaze pored into his, unbreaking and persistent.

Your vision was blurrier than before, your voice threatening to waiver, crack, but your composure was held together by the pitiful hope that he'd do what you wanted- what you needed.

He retracted his hand, idling awkwardly while he searched his mind for a response. You watched his eyes dart from yours, cogs turning.

"That what you want?"

Your brows furrowed. "No."

He was quiet again- a common reoccurrence but not usually with you. He had his moments of silence, though his stone-like stance put you off. The calloused part of you had already begun to wall-off the the feelings you'd since developed for him, blinking away the tears gathering in your eyes and clearing your throat.

Sudden chatter outside the bar alerted you both, remembering that inside were the coworkers you'd been trying to avoid. Simon cleared his throat, standing up straight.

"Get in," He muttered, holding the door as you slowly turned to jump into his truck.

Once settled beside you, he turned the truck over, heading for your apartment. There was more silence- hardly even the sound of breathing. He didn't look your way, or rest his hand on your thigh, and a part of you took it as a premonition for the difficult conversation to come.

You'd poured a glass of wine by the time he returned from your room- dressed in only his sweatpants, void of his mask; vulnerable. You stood at the counter's edge, taking a slow sip to avoid speaking while he stared at you.

There was only the sound of deep breaths, a stalemate while you locked eyes. Simon knew he'd crumble- you'd grown too valuable to let slip away- but not without delving into the evening's events.

You sighed as he neared, wandering almost aimlessly through your apartment. Your shoulders collapsed in defeat; growing tired of the silent war waging itself between you.

"What are we doing? Where is this going?" You sighed, catching his eyes as you looked up.

As badly as you wanted to fix the anger and frustration brewing beneath your skin, you knew it would take a lot- maybe more than he'd give. You'd known from the start he wasn't like usual men, and you didn't expect him to be, but the issue at hand was starting to snowball.

"Whad'you want? You want a ring? A kid?" He tilted his head, chest expanding as he neared the kitchen island.

You shook your head, ignoring the mockery in his tone, "I need to know you want me. Only me. Even just for now, not forever. But if not-" Your lips rubbed together. "I can't keep risking my job for something going nowhere."

"My arse has been on the line too," He reminded you, his hand finding the counter. "A lifetime's worth of hard work and shite I ain't proud of- threatened by you. I wouldn't've bothered with any of it if I didn't want you."

"That's not what I meant," You tilted your head, examining his eyes. "I appreciate the risks of our situation-"

"I don't think you do," He moved even closer. "I'm riskin' everything just by bein' here. That ain't an answer for you? Doesn't tell you how fuckin' much I want you?" His breaths were heavy once he'd finished his sentence.

You blinked- shocked by the unexpected passion coming from a man whose stoicism was unmatched by anyone you'd ever known.

He set his jaw, working up the courage to solidify what you wanted desperately to hear. It was like he was choking for air, his chest tight, deeply afraid to offer his trust and commitment, aloud, without something tangible to prove you'd reciprocate it.

His jaw clenched again, his eyes flickering between yours, deciding once and for all that he'd without-a-doubt take what you'd offer without a second thought, even if he had to lay his peace of mind on the line.

"'M with you. Only want you." He stared at you, moving closer. "Don't want anyone else havin' you, either. Call it whatever you like but I ain't been subtle about it."

His words melted away the grudge you'd been holding, finding solace in his words. You had no intention of holding on to anger, especially not as he peeled back the layers of armour protecting him from being hurt. Your lips pursed, biting your lip before meeting his eyes.

"I feel the same," You answered, nodding firmly, meeting his eyes. There was a brief pause, preparing yourself to offer your commitment. "I should've said so sooner, but I only want you, Simon." Your words softened, melting slowly into his ears before settling in his stomach with weight and warmth.

It was so genuine, so utterly vulnerable he was nearly overwhelmed. For a moment, he almost forgot how poorly it could end. It was just the two of you; two people in a normal, mundane relationship, in the dim light of your kitchen, exchanging a stare that dared to pull you into an alternate universe where you didn't have to worry.

He hummed softly- a surrender. He gently, almost begrudgingly, pulled you into him by the fabric of your shirt, a soft kiss against your lips that was like sealing a deal- an exchange of commitment.

Still a bit irritated at your lack of observation, he threatened to pull away. Before he could, you teetered on your toes, moving to drape your arms around his shoulders as he wrapped an arm around your waist. You held him close, pressed against your body as you reconnected your lips.

"I'm sorry," You whispered. "I should've known better."

When he hummed in response, you kissed his lips again. He was stiff against you, though you felt him relax into your touch while you spoke in his ear.

"I'm glad you're here. Happy you're here."

His eyes searched yours for a moment, before he pulled you in by your waist, his lips engulfing yours with warmth and wetness.

You hummed softly, leaning into his touch, standing taller to press your lips against his. You exhaled softly as he slid his tongue against yours, parting your lips with force.

His warm, strong hands tugged you closer, hand moving to hold the side of your face as he guided you against his lips.

He grunted as he lifted you to his hips, large palms and fingers digging into the back of your thighs. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as he began heading for your room; you kept your arms tangled in the short hair on the nape of his neck.

He sat down, your thighs landing on either side of his as you straddled his lap. You pulled your shirt over your head, breathless and rushed, before pulling him back in. His lips fit perfectly together with yours, his tongue sliding between your lips to collide with yours.

His hand clung tightly to your waist, while his other dipped beneath your waistband and panties, gently finding his way over your clit. Rough fingertips traced it softly, a jolt running up your back at the sudden pressure.

"Simon," Yoir voice was airy and desperate, your hands grabbing pulling him closer.

He grunted in response, hardly recognizing his name from your needy mouth, and instead was focused on how soft and wet you were, his warm lips making contact with your neck.

You moaned, cradling his head as he nipped and licked, biting softly at your neck, the cool air of the room bringing goosebumps to the surface of your skin. You writhed against him, your thighs squeezing his between them, trying to stay still while his hand explored the flesh of your pussy.

Your soft moans were muffled by his neck, panting quietly into his skin as your fingers grasped at his back. Your lips made contact with his neck, sloppy and haphazard, making your way to the sharp crease of his jaw before finding his lips. He couldn't help but press into you, grind his already-hard cock against you, finding some measure of relief and pleasure.

"Doin' my fuckin' head in, you know that?" He breathed, warm breath against your neck that made you shiver.

A subtle nod between soft moans was accompanied by a meek and stubborn, "Yeah. I'm sorry."

His hand slipped from your pants, reaching for his sweats as he began to slide them down his hips.

You stood from his lap, slowly pulling your jeans down your thighs until they pooled on the floor, nudging them with your foot before dropping to your knees. You inched forward, your eyes meeting Simon's with an apologetic look- one that intrigued him as much as it turned him on.

"Go on," He nodded. "Let's see how sorry you are."

Your cheeks flushed as his hand came to your cheek, following your lead as your lips puckered around the tip of his cock. He nearly shivered- each time was like the first all over again, unable to overcome the feelings of pure lust when he watched you on your knees.

Your lips wrapping around his cock, eyes locking with his when you'd take him deeper into your throat. The feeling of your throat closing when you'd gag on his dick made him grunt quietly and subconsciously grab a fistful of your hair while he resisted the urge to fuck your throat until you couldn't breathe.

He liked watching you struggle to take it all- the desperation to please in your eyes, the shift in your hips to ease the growing discomfort of your swollen, almost sore, clit. He'd take care of it- always did, always would.

He'd close his eyes only momentarily to listen to your mouth; sloppy sounds of saliva and sucking in sharp breaths. He preferred watching, though, especially when your eyes began to water, your nose began to run, and you'd be sliding your hand up and down his cock to ease the pain in your jaw.

You met his gaze again- eyes half-shut, cheeks flushed, his hand on the back of your head as he guided your lips up and down his cock.

"That's good," He muttered, "Fuckin' hell, sweetheart."

Your heart would race when he praised you, soft murmurs of thanks that vibrated against his cock. He grinned momentarily while you tried to talk with a mouthful of his cock.

"Come 'ere," He leaned back. "Come sit on it, love."

You stood, allowing him to guide your hips over his lap, his eyes settled on yours as he helped you slowly take every inch. Your mouth fell open with disbelief- your lubricated walls drew him in without resistance, his calloused hands on your waist helping to lower you down.

"Right there," He muttered, finally exhaling as your bodies were flush together. "Good fuckin' girl."

Sitting up straight, his hand moved around to grab a handful of your ass, suddenly pulling you forward. A sharp gasp left your lips, falling into his chest with your palms.

You couldn't resist, regardless of how sore your hips were, stretched out from the position, your thighs aching; you rolled your hips forward, a shiver and quiet moan of satisfaction coming from your lungs.

Your arms draped around his shoulders, enthusiastically grinding your hips against his, slowly rising up and lowering yourself to feel his cock push back up inside you. Your soft pants hit his ear, warm breath bringing goosebumps to the surface of his skin.

He pulled you close, his own quiet grunts could be heard in the quiet of your room, especially as your pace sped up. His fingers would squeeze your waist and ass, gripping tightly so you wouldn't stop.

"How's it feel?" He asked, turning his head to watch your lips part with a deep moan. "You like ridin' my cock, don't you, sweetheart?"

"Yes," You mumbled. "Yes- fuck, please touch me," you whispered against his neck, your body hunching over his.

His spread his thighs, his fingers finding your clit as you continued to bring yourself up and down on his cock. Your head fell back, fingernails digging into the flesh of his shoulders, eyes squeezing shut.

Encircling your clit, his touch, combined with his girth sliding in and out, was more than enough to have your stomach tightening. Your moans had turned to choked gasps for air as you neared your climax, strong fingers still keeping their pace on your clit, black eyes watching you fall apart on his cock.

You froze, squeezing his cock as you came, harsh waves of pleasure that made you shudder. He sounded strained, holding in every sound that threatened to spill while your pussy clenched around him.

Rather than waiting for you to gather your composure, he lifted his hips up and began thrusting into you. It was slow at first, quickly turning needy and desperate when he saw the sweat on your brow, and disheveled expression.

"Fuck," He grunted. "Will y'let me cum in you?"

You nodded, too dazed for words, and his own anticipation got the better of him.

"Oughta get you pregnant," He huffed. His hand trailed up your waist, to gather your hair in his fist and pull. "You want it? Wanna be all fuckin' mine, don't you?"

You nearly sobbed, a quiet cry leaving your lips when his grip on your hair tightened and he forced your hips forward to meet his.

"I'm all yours," You answered, nearly all air, breathless amidst his chase for orgasm. "All yours, Simon."

Your words pushed him over the edge, a crippling hold on your waist holding you in place as he thrusted a few more times, forcefully. A low growl against your ear as he came inside you made you shiver, especially as his warm cum filled you.

"All mine, yeah?" He said, his breathing heavy.

You nodded against the side of his head, exhaling harshly.

You couldn't help but feel conflicted at the bittersweet revelation. You were his- entirely, but decades of playing pretend was not what you'd expected for yourself. You fell into him, ignoring the gnawing in your gut and pretending that the reality you'd created for yourselves was forever.

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 6

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: This chapter might just be my favorite.

Masterlist | Read ch 5 here

It's been a few days since Loki had convinced you to share that cup of tea with him, and things have been… pleasant. You were still guarded and sometimes on the defensive when around Loki, but you were not actively avoiding him anymore, he may even go as far as saying you might be enjoying his company at times.

There were also moments where those same defenses dulled down, moments where Loki would have glimpses of that same girl he had seen on TVA's time teather when he'd first arrived. And the more he spent time with you, the more he understood why he would've fallen for you in his future. And why he was falling for you now.

"Please, Mobius," you made a show of clasping your hands together right under your chin, "I just need a moment to breathe."

Loki and Mobius were sitting at the latter's desk, mindlessly chatting, and you had popped out of nowhere a few minutes ago, making yourself comfortable on top of his desk.

"There's air all around you, breathe away," Mobius gestured widely.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile lingered on your features. Loki subconsciously found himself mimicking it as he looked at you.

"You know what I mean," you said quieter, avoiding his eyes and swinging your feet back and forth softly. You briefly looked at Loki, gaze roaming over the slope of his nose and the lines of his jaw, before focusing back on Mobius; "Please?" You asked more genuinely.

Mobius sighed loudly, clearly already giving in to your pleading. He cursed under his breath and fished out his tempad from his pocket, giving it to you. "If you get caught, I'm pretending I don't know you and that you stole it from me."

The grin that painted your features was big and bright, "You know I'm not getting caught," you gave him a wink, and then added softly; "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Mobius waved you off, but he was smiling too.

Loki watched the exchange quietly until you left and were out of earshot. He turned to Mobius, one elbow resting on the desk. "You never gave me the tempad when I asked."

Mobius side-eyed him, "That's because she's responsible, and you're not."

A deep frown appeared on Loki's face, he straightened his posture. "That's absurd, I'm way more responsible than she is." He spoke matter of factly, gesturing to the general direction you had scurried off to, "Have you seen her desk? I don't know how she even works in the middle of that mess."

Mobius chuckled, he was enjoying this. "I stand by my point."

─── ·❆· ───

Your clothes were clinging to your body, your hair stuck to your forehead, there were droplets on your eyelashes, and pools of water appeared on the floor from your dripping clothes with each step you took.

The TVA was mostly dark and empty, with only a few dim lights here and there, as it was already late. You smiled and chuckled to yourself as you walked past the library and headed to the elevator, feeling alive.

The doors of the elevator slowly slid open only to reveal Loki. He had a small pack of Skittles in one hand that you were certain you had seen on Mobius' desk earlier. His other hand stopped midair before it reached his mouth as soon as he laid eyes on you.

For the first time, your smile grew just a tad wider upon seeing him.

Loki had a confused crease on his eyebrows, his lips hung open for a second more as his gaze roamed up and down your body before settling on your face. "You're soaked." He stated, as if you didn't know.

"Yes," You beamed.

Loki's mouth opened and closed a few times. "Why?"

You took a single step closer to him, tilting your head to the side softly, watching as he visibly gulped at your closeness. "Don't you miss it?" You asked, voice quiet. "The rain, the wind, the sunlight, the smell of grass and trees?"

His bright eyes softened then, he glanced away and his expression turned melancholic for a moment, as if your question had reminded him of the feeling; "Yes, I suppose I do."

You pursed your lips, holding onto Mobius' tempad in your jacket pocket. A part of you had alarms blaring inside your head, the other, was begging you to not think and just do it. The weight of Loki's presence was familiar and foreign all the same. Dangerous territory, as you tiptoed the blurred lines of what he had started to mean to you, and the memories from before that still haunted your nightmares. Despite what you had so adamantly told yourself as soon as you laid eyes on Loki… you'd gone soft. Having him around seemed to ease the parts of your heart that still ached, even when you didn't want it to, even when you were still scared and confused.

Only today, you told yourself. Only today would be okay. Because the ocean that was his bright eyes held that same sadness that had drawn you to him for the first time all those years ago, after all. Denying it was becoming a fool's game.

You took the tempad from your pocket and hit a few buttons until a smoked-glass doorway popped open behind you. Glancing up at Loki, you said; "Come on," and turned around, walking into the doorway.

Loki hesitated for only a beat before discarding the pack of Skittles and following after you.

The first thing he felt was the heavy raindrops hitting his cheeks and soaking his clothes. Loki blinked a few times, narrowing his eyes so he could see past the storm. It was a deserted street, the worn roadway stretched far beyond what he could see, surrounded by green fields with no houses in sight; the sky was mostly cloudy, but on a far corner a few faint stripes of a setting sun could be spotted; the rain falling down was heavy and constant, pattering loudly against the asphalt and the tall grass beside it.

You stood a few feet ahead of him, with your head tilted up to the sky and your eyes closed. The rain cascaded down your skin, kissing your lips and trailing a path down your neck that Loki couldn't help but follow. It soaked your clothes and hair, just as it did his. And yet you looked absolutely ethereal.

Loki found himself glued to the ground as he simply took in the sight before him. The rain glistened on your skin as it was shaped by the rogue bouts of sunlight, a small blissed-out smile lingered on your lips as you took in the feeling of being under the earth's elements. Straight out of a dream.

Finally turning your attention to him, you stretched your arms to the side, speaking louder so he could hear you over the rain; "doesn't it make you feel alive?"

"That's certainly one way of putting it," Loki told you, taking half a step closer to you as he put his wet hair behind his ears.

You rolled your eyes but your smile remained, "Come on, Loki. The rain washes your soul, it's freeing, it's-" You looked up at the sky again, breathing in deeply, "It shows you can still feel."

Words failed Loki, he tried not to dwell too much on the fact that this was the first time you had called him by his name.

When he didn't answer, you looked at him for a beat, hesitating and worrying your lower lip between your teeth before you extended both hands towards him.

The rain somehow grew heavier, paired with a cold wind that made your hair flow. Loki switched his gaze between your eyes and your outstretched hands. Confused, asking for permission. When you simply wiggled your fingers, he took one of your hands, delicately, almost as if afraid to touch you.

You grasped him tightly with the reassurance he needed and reached for his other hand. You pulled him forward as you took a step backward to get him moving, and then started circling him, making him copy your movements until you fell into a messy dance. A genuine laugh escaped you, "Don't you feel it?"

Loki's smile followed yours, and if his eyes were suddenly pooling with happy tears, the rain would hide it. "I'm starting to," he said quietly, his gaze never leaving yours.

The grin on your lips remained as you closed your eyes and craned your neck up again, you leaned back and allowed Loki's hands to support half of your weight, with the safety that he'd hold you up.

And if he had any say in it, he'd never let go either.

After a few minutes under the rain, you told Loki you had another place you liked to escape to sometimes. Another smoked-glass doorway opened then, and it led to a clear night sky; under it was a small forest with a clearing up ahead, and a lonely bench in the middle of the low grass that had been faintly covered with bits of snow. A thousand stars danced in this sky, with no other light or cloud in sight to outshine their beauty. The lonely bench overlooked a view from up a mountain, making everything seem small and distant. Just like the roadway before, this place was also deserted.

You walked ahead, the only sound on the eery night being your boots crushing the grass and snow underneath. Loki followed, and with a flick of his wrist, his magic had the two of you dry and warm again.

You turned to him with a small, knowing smile and took a seat on the bench, "Thanks."

He simply smiled back, making himself comfortable beside you and looking up at the stars.

This place had always been your favorite, the first one you found after coming to the TVA, and the one you inevitably always came back to.

Feeling the weight of Loki's presence beside you, you weren't sure what you were doing. Only a few weeks ago you said you wanted nothing to do with him, yet here you are. You closed your eyes, pushing the thoughts away for now.

"I usually come here for the stars," you whispered into the night, your breath coming in white puffs of air.

Loki hummed, his gaze roaming over the constellations in the sky, "It is beautiful, but Midgard's skies-"

"Don't compare to Asgard's skies," you finished for him and shot a glance his way before focusing back on the sky, "yeah, I've been told."

A small chuckle escaped Loki, he nodded his head softly and looked down at his hands, his thumb scratching the skin of his other palm.

"One of the few good things about the TVA is this," you hugged your jacket closer to your body, "being able to be anywhere, anytime."

"Are you not worried about disrupting their so-called sacred timeline?" Loki asked.

You smirked, watching him from the side of your eye. "With time, you learn a few tricks on how to not create a branch right away. Such as avoiding people, not disrupting the place," you shrugged, "it gives you a few minutes at least."

Loki kept silent as he took in the new information, he looked from the starry sky to the low grass around his shoes. It would all stay the same when he left.

"It's almost as if we don't exist," you told him quietly.

Suddenly, a different flash of color caught your eyes, and your heartbeat sped up. You held onto your breath, feeling strangely giddy. "There it is," you pointed at the sky.

Loki looked at where you were pointing and his lips parted in silent wonder. It started on one side and soon flowed all around the stars above your heads; flashes of bright green, blue, and pink. Lights dancing in the sky.

A shaky sigh escaped you, "This is the other reason why I like to come here," you kept your voice low, as if the moment was a well-kept secret. The colors of the aurora were reflecting against your eyes. "It's so… enchanting."

Loki kept silent for a few beats, simply watching the show amidst the starry night. He then turned to you, taking in the way those same dancing colors shaped your profile. "It is," he breathed.

You didn't have to look at him to know he was looking at you. You could feel it. It wrapped your heart in a tight grip and blurred the sight of the colorful sky. You pursed your lips, lowering your head and curling in on yourself. "Please don't do that," your words broke in the middle.

Loki gulped the sudden lump in his throat, he felt as if he'd just ruined the moment yet he didn't know how. "I-"

"Don't look at me…" your voice got stuck. You glanced up at the sky, breathing in sharply to chase away the rogue tears. "Like that." It was nothing but a breath past your lips, you softly raised your eyebrows to accentuate the last word.

Don't look at me the way you used to when you were mine.

In the same heartbeat, Loki's gaze shifted to his shoes. An apology already lingered on his lips, but before he could say it, you spoke;

"We should go." You got up, reaching for the tempad in your pocket, "or we'll create a branch soon and this place will be crawling with minutemen." You didn't wait for his answer before walking a few steps away, needing a bit of space.

You heard as Loki followed you, but he kept his distance as he waited for you to open the doorway. You didn't like that distance.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 7 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

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[leclerc-s]

the honest series - formula one

─── ❝ i wish you could be honest with me ❞ ───

masterpost

click here to be added to the honest series taglist

THE PRELUDE

an honest timeline

meet the leading cast

THE ALBUMS

if this was a movie - m.verstappen - starts in early 2015

enchanted - d.ricciardo - starts in late 2015

i wanna be yours - c.leclerc - starts in 2018

te quiero besar - c.sainz - starts in early 2019

bad idea right? - p.gasly - starts in late 2019

call it what you want - l.norris - starts in early 2021

different - a.leclerc - starts in late 2021

say yes to heaven - m.schumacher - starts in late 2021

la curiosidad - o.piastri - starts in late 2022

how you get the girl - l.sargeant - starts in early 2023

por el contrario - o'ward - starts in early 2023

THE EPS

he’s good for my heart but he’s bad for business

alternatively: a blurb series of the songs inspired by max verstappen (takes place from 2015-2022)

i want your midnights

alternatively: a blurb series of the songs inspired by daniel ricciardo (takes place from 2016-2022)

met you at the right time, this is what it feels like

alternatively: a blurb series of the songs inspired by lando norris (takes place from 2021-2023)

you, me, and your friend steve (the 1k special)

the paddock family couples and their third wheels as seen through the fans and themselves

THE BONUS TRACKS

seven

mae and daphne write a song together for max featuring charles leclerc (takes place september 2019)

the unhinged younger brother

the jones sisters have a little brother, he's more unhinged than anyone could imagine. (takes place from 2019-2023)

(daphne's version)

daphne finally gets to own her work (takes place from 2021-2023)

wait, there’s another one of you?

turns out older brothers, feelings, and spilling secrets, is not a healthy mix. who would've thought?! (takes place in early 2022)

nonsense

mae reveals the inspiration behind her most unhinged song ever while also traumatizing a few drivers (takes place may 2022)

a christmas nonsense

nonsense gets a merry sequel while mae and max continue to traumatize their friends and families (takes place november 2022)

the daphlonso scandal

the entire internet is convinced daphne is dating a driver but they’ve got the wrong one or where loose-lipped lando strikes (takes place march 2023)

who's daniel ricciardo anyways?

a star nfl player tries giving his number to daphne, chaos ensues between the f1 girls and the nfl fandom, several people lose their minds, mostly isabella and daniel. (takes place july 2023)

the trophy boyfriends

daphne and mae are everything while daniel and max are just ken (takes place september 2023)

karma is the guy on the track

daphne and daniel break the internet, again. (takes place november 2023)

most likely to...las vegas edition

grill the grid has it out for pierre and rowan (takes place november 2023)

what happens in vegas never stays in vegas

someone gets married in vegas…again (takes place november 2023)

fruitcake

the release of mae's christmas ep has a few people worried. (takes place from november 2023 - december 2023)

a paddock family christmas

christmas, paddock family style (takes place december 2023)

divorcegate 2024

alternatively: isabella and rhys loses their minds over lewis' unexpected move to ferrari. (takes place february 2024)

let him be a trophy husband!

the paddock family takes on the 66th annual grammys and a surprise album announcement by daphne (takes place february 2024)

the end of an era

isabella choses chaos. (takes place february 2024)

she's married you idiots!

relationship rumors strike again! only this time mae and max seem to be at the center of it all. (takes place february 2024)

struggling to survive netflix

the paddock family takes on a new season of drive to survive. (takes place february 2024)

thirsting on the main?

isabella thirsting over her boyfriend with a sprinkle of brocedes (takes place march 2024)

let the games begin

the start of the 2024 formula 1 season, occurs in the usual paddock family chaos (takes place march 2024)

so american

the internet learns just how much zoya torres loves logan sargeant. spoiler, it's more than they could imagine. (takes place march 2024)

of ice cream shops and puppies

think the barbie of formula 1, charles leclerc, starting his new business venture while suffering from dog-napping at the hands of his 'own children' (takes place april 2024)

espresso with a shot of depresso

the impending release of espresso and the tortured poets department has people cracking jokes (takes place april 2024)

the tortured poets department

the release of the tortured poets department by daphne jones-ricciardo. (takes place april 2024)

take me back to the city that i call my city, where everybody knows my name

charles leclerc finally wins his home grand prix. (takes place may 2024)

short n' sweet

it may be mae's 6th studio album, but it's her first as a married woman. (takes place august 2024)

UP NEXT!

tba

august 27th, 2024...

[apocalypseornaw]

Real or Not (Pt 1/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

When Dean starts mentioning his ex it makes you start doubting how stable your relationship is

@lacilou s idea

You were half asleep, curled up to Dean's chest. His fingers were slowly tracing patterns on your bare back as he sung along with whatever was playing on the radio, the light rumble of his voice was nearly lulling you back to sleep. The bed was warm and soft, his body against yours was an added warmth and comfort. You'd known the boys most of your life, the perks of hunting but you and Dean was a development that had just happened a few years before.

Him and Sam had discovered the men of letters bunker and as a byproduct had extended an invitation for you to use one of the many extra bedrooms. You weren't sure how the line between friends and lovers was crossed between you and Dean.

The first time you saw a spark of what could be was when a guy had gotten handsy with you in a bar after a hunt. You were sore after all three of you had gotten tossed around, the bruising on your side was already multiple shades of purple. You'd left the boys to go to the bathroom and hadn't noticed a guy watching you.

When you walked out the bathroom he'd grabbed you rather roughly. Any other time you would've kicked his ass with no problem but his fingertips had dug into the bruise forcing the air out of your lungs and a gasp of pain to escape your lips. "Hey asshole" You heard Dean's voice a half a second before the guy was ripped off of you.

You watched as Dean hit him and felt some sense of vindication when the guy went down but when Dean moved to hit him again you grabbed his arm, the bouncer was headed your way and not to mention you knew Dean.

He was strong enough to take down monsters on the daily, if he went off on this drunken asshole he could kill him. The anger in his eyes quickly dissolved when he realized it was your hand on him "Sweetheart he hurt you" you smiled slightly "I've had worse dee. You probably broke his jaw as is. Let the bouncer handle it, let's grab Sam and head back to the motel"

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

From that day on any time the three of you went out Dean would stand outside the bathroom and wait on you. You'd felt guilty for a while that his chances of hooking up was cut down extremely by every woman in the bar seeing him waiting on you but when you'd finally brought it up to him he'd simply said "You're more important to me"

The first time Dean kissed you was late one night. You and him had been dancing around feelings for each other for a while.

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

You'd been in your room, laid across the bed listening to music when he'd knocked on your door. "Come in!" You called out turning to sit up instead of being sprawled out. Dean walked in and a smile pulled onto his face "Were you asleep?" Your eyes widened when you realized how your hair probably looked. Not that he hadn't seen you at a worse time but nonetheless you smoothed a hand over your hair "No, was just listening to music" he nodded slowly but you could tell he hadn't just come to your door to see what you were up to. "Something wrong Dee?"

He motioned down the hall "There's a um meteor shower tonight. Sam told me about it, I know you like that kind of thing and there's a few clearings not far from here if you wanna take a little ride?"

You nodded "Yeah let me get my boots on and grab a hoodie" the smile he gave you made your heart flip "Take your time sweetheart"

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

About half an hour later you were laying across baby's hood next to Dean, watching the night sky. His hand found your leg, squeezing gently before he sat up "Y/N, can we talk?" You sat up too and took his offered hand to get off the impala. Once you were both standing he gave you one of those smiles that made your knees weak "Can I just kiss you and stop this dancing around? I know how I feel about you and I'm fairly certain how you feel about me"

"I'd like that" you admitted and next thing you knew his lips were on yours. Kissing Dean was better than you'd ever imagined and you'd imagined it plenty. The way he made you feel from just a kiss was dizzying. When he pulled away he slid his arms around your waist pulling you even closer "I could get used to doing that" you laughed "I could get used to you doing that"

The two of you had ended up watching the sun come up before going back to the bunker. You'd never admit under threat of torture but you were half in love with him then.

You felt his fingers hesitate just a moment before he said "I know you're awake" you cut your eyes up to see green eyes watching you closely. You smiled "I was enjoying the song" he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips but when his hands moved to your hips rolling you over on top of him the kiss deepened. When you had to move away from each other to catch your breath he grinned at you "If I get that for a song what do I get for a few?" You raised an eyebrow rolling your hips down against his which made him choke out a groan "I'm sure we can come to an agreement"

Yeah you'd never admit it but you were head over heels for the eldest Winchester.

You were moving through the bunker, humming to yourself. You'd just gotten through with laundry and was headed to see if Sam needed help with research.

You were almost to the library when you heard Dean and Sam both laughing. The sound warmed your heart, they rarely genuinely laughed. "Man you remember how Mila lost the cop that was chasing her, met us back at Bobby's and cooked breakfast" Sam said and you felt yourself falter.

Sam was one of your closest friends and yeah him and Dean had hunted close with Camila for a while especially while her and Dean were a thing but as far as you knew they hadn't talked to her in a while. Why were they reminiscing about Dean's ex? Your stomach dropped to your feet when Dean's voice was the next to say "Mila has always been a force of nature"

You knew when it came to these two your poker face was shit so you stopped dead in your tracks unsure what to do next. When they started into another story starring none other than Camila Paulso you spun on your heel and headed for the garage. You hadn't realized you were crying until your vision went blurry.

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

This wasn't like you. You weren't the overly jealous type and getting this upset over something so trivial as them reminiscing? Because you had fallen in love with Dean and honestly had no clue if he felt the same. Every insecurity you felt from when you first got with Dean came rushing back. Every little voice that said you weren't his type, that you weren't good enough for him, that he'd never love you blared through your head.

You walked over to one of the older cars you always liked and sat down next to it, forcing yourself to calm down. They were just talking. Maybe you needed a break, you could go visit Jody and the girls. A few minutes passed before your phone went off with a text from Dean "Where are you at?"

You pushed yourself to your feet, checking your reflection in the window of the car before texting back "Garage" you needed to get a grip. Dean wasn't the type to not say what he wanted. He was with you, that counted for something right?

About the time you heard his voice ring through the garage calling your name a small whisper flashed through your head saying "What if he's passing time until he can get her back?"

Why the hell was your own brain working so hard against you?

@lacilou

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 2 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: i can't tell you all how i excited i am to get this fic going! thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter, i promise there is a lot of cool stuff to come!

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 2 - The Patrol

‘Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.’  - Richard Silken, The Worm King’s Lullaby

There is a thin sheet of ice covering the streams that are heading downwards. It crunches under the hooves of their horses that dutifully carry them up the hill and past the gas station. Joel is glad that it's Tommy next to him. He's more tense than he's felt in ages, a gnawing feeling in his stomach that has little to do with the skipped breakfast and a lot with the worry that is etched into the frown between his brows. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, much less try and calm him down, something he knows is a lost battle.

“They might be fine, Joel,” his younger brother says gently, just loud enough for him to hear. Tommy thinks there will be no response until one comes, a little too late for it to not be premeditated.

“She talked about leaving, sometimes. They would be stupid enough to run off-”

“And leave Jackson?” Tommy raises a brow. “Maria said their house looked normal, all their things still in place. They wouldn't be stupid enough to leave all that behind.”

Joel doesn't want to hear it. He knows, better than anyone. Knows that you wouldn't just leave, not without saying goodbye to the children you'd come to care about so much. Would you leave him without a goodbye?

He almost hopes you would. Because if you didn't leave willingly, what was the alternative? It would've been nearly impossible for someone to take you from inside Jackson with no one noticing. But he can't shake the feeling that something is off.

It’s Tommy who has to keep reminding him to ride slow, to keep an eye on the ground for possible tracks. Joel just wants to go, to spur Old Beardy on until they're galloping up the hill, despite not knowing where it is he needs to go. He just wants to find you. Preferably in one piece, happy and healthy. 

He would’ve missed it.

The small footprints leading off the road and onto a smaller path, one that's twisting through pines and further into the woods. 

Tommy nods. “Pretty sure ‘tis the one that leads to the hunting cabin.”

It only takes a few minutes for them to be sure. The wooden cabin is hidden away behind a few trees, difficult to spot if you don't know where to look. It doesn't really serve any purpose, at least not anymore. The roof at the back caved in years ago, allowing rain and plants alike to enter the dimly lit room. It’s less than five miles from the gate of Jackson, tucked away from the main road.

He can’t help but think that this would be the perfect place to run off to. Or to hide a body.

Joel is off his horse in a second, not even bothering to tie the stallion's halter to the wooden posts in front of the cabin. Without thinking, he tugs his revolver out of his waistband, using his foot to nudge the door open.

He smells it before his eyes even have a chance to adjust to the dim light. The unmistakable stench of blood. And mixed with it, creating an odor that immediately makes him sick to his stomach, the smell of gunpowder in the air.

***

The sun has been slowly rising while you’ve been flipping through the pages, trying to find the volumes you’re looking for. The library of Jackson, though rather small, has been frequented more and more, especially in the winter months when the weather doesn’t always allow activities outside and people resort to what they’ve always known: Books.

The entire place is supposed to be relocated soon, to a small store on main street. But compared to the greenhouses needing repairs and the stables being expanded, books don't seem to be a priority for most of the townsfolk.

“Books can’t feed us or keep us safe,” Maria pointed out when you brought the slow progress up to her. You politely disagree. You feel like you could live off books for the rest of your life.

Still, packing up everything means the old place, a shed tucked away behind the church, is currently a mess. Sagging bookshelves, a leaky roof and too many books for too little space means chaos. One that only few bother to navigate in its current state. You among them.

It was the crack of dawn when you slipped out of the house, deciding to let Lane sleep in while you walked through the still empty streets to the far end of the town, hoping to get the library work out of the way before the first lesson of the day.

Maria is the one that finds you, making your head peek up from between two shelves with a frown. “You changed your mind on those books?”

She gives a small laugh, one that sounds oddly like relief. Then her face becomes stern again, the look she carries much more often. “You two have some explaining to do, do you realize that?”

Now it's your turn to frown. “We two?” She pauses at that, looking around the small room. But there is no one here but you and her and the characters bleeding from the pages.

“Is Lane not with you?”

You shake your head, turning your attention back to the book in your hands. “She has the 8AM class today.” 

“She's not there,” Maria curtly responds. You can tell she's trying to keep her voice steady but there is a hint of anxiety regardless. 

“Then she overslept again,” you half guess-half ask, closing the book again.

“She's not at home either.”

An odd feeling crawls over your body. You can't remember what was in your hands a moment ago, but the question is forgotten in an instant. Maria carefully watches as you step out from between the shelves, her tone still gentle. “I've sent Tommy and Joel out to search. We thought you two snuck out.”

You feel numb as you shake your head. “No, I- I didn't see her this morning. I thought she was still asleep.” You rack your brain for the memories of this morning, of last night, of the last week even. But nothing comes to mind, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I was out late last night, finishing up some paperwork,” you mutter, more to yourself than the woman in front of you, retracing your steps in your mind. “Lane got home before me, I had dinner, we talked about blueberries-”

“Blueberries?” Maria asks, her hand already back on the doorknob. She seems restless and it's that fleeting detail that worries you more than anything. Maria stays in control. Always. 

“Yeah, we- It doesn't matter. I don't know where she is,” you finish lamely, getting up and joining her at the door. But she hasn't moved yet.

“You should stay at home. I'm sure she'll show up again soon and if she comes back to your place, someone should be there.” You nod but your mind is already drifting again. Lane’s been doing fine, good. So have you, really. Maria gently reaches for your shoulder, steering you out of the shed and towards the church, down the street that leads to the center of Jackson. 

You're passing the small graveyard that's protected by brick walls, the stones already withered, pale in contrast to the dark metal fence running along on top. The gate is ajar, but you barely pay it any attention as the information settles in your brain. It takes a few seconds for it to reach your mouth and leave your lips.

“She went out a few times.” 

“Out?” Maria enquires, raising an eyebrow as her attention shifts back to you.

“I thought she'd met someone. Cat and her were pretty close and I figured-” You give a small shrug. It's more than uncomfortable, suddenly, and absurd, that you're discussing Lane's private life so openly, with Maria of all people.

“Don't tell her I said that,” you add quickly. 

Maria nods as you reach the end of the brick wall. “I won't. I'll get back to the city hall and see if there’s any news yet. You go home.”

Your head nods as if on its own accord. Maria has already turned her back towards you when you pipe up. “Maria?” 

She pauses, her back straightening a bit. “Yes?”

“You don't think anything happened to Lane, do you?” 

The older woman shakes her head softly. “No. I'm sure she's fine. Now get home. Maybe she's already there.”

And she hurries off, leaving you at the corner of the street with a trembling body and a heavy feeling in your stomach. For a fleeting moment, you allow your thoughts to wander past the point you've been dreading to consider. What if something has happened? If Lane did sneak out, maybe with Cat, maybe alone, and got into some sort of situation? What if she's hurt?

The sky has turned from pink to a light blue, only a few clouds piling around the mountains on the horizon. You glance down at your hands, shaking ever so slightly. You decide to blame it on the cold. The cold that may be getting to your head as well. Because after a few moments, you turn on your heels, heading for the stables. It's only a few rows of houses until the large wooden wall looms in front of you, blocking out the little sunlight you could get in the morning. The wall that protects you from what lies beyond. Infected and Raiders and maybe, you think, as you slip into the stables, maybe answers.

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting, every single notif on this fic makes my heart swell with love <3

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: The first 48 hours are crucial when a person goes missing. Eren can only pray it’s enough to reach you..

— Content warnings: emetophobia, mention of assault.

— Notes: Helloooo!!! Welcome to TV Friday number 12 <3 I thought about posting earlier but I thought best to keep up our little tradition ^^ Please read the notes at the end for extra notes about TV’s future. Don’t be shy to stop by my ask box <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

Forty-eight hours

Hour One

A missed call shouldn't have been enough to raise an alarm, but his gut instantly told him something was wrong. And yet he tried his best to remain calm — stepped out onto the street and made his way to the bus stop where you should've been dropped off, glancing into convenience stores just in case, hopeful that the bus was just running a little late. But when the bus you would've taken showed up — allowing Eren some time to sigh in relief and shake his head at his own presumptions — and you were nowhere to be found among the few people to scatter onto the sidewalk, it only confirmed that previous gut feeling.

Hour Two

Inhale. Hold. Exhale. 

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

There's a stiffness to Eren's breathing that makes the process more painful than its intended effects — his lungs feel too big for his ribs, which seem to be pressing them against his heart, pushing his brain into hyperactivity to keep him from imploding.

Where does he even start? Where should he even go?

If there's a proper protocol to follow to find you, he's no idea of it and he's strangely aware that his anxiety might lead him in the wrong direction when there's so much he has to do — so many places he has to be — at once. It's infuriatingly difficult to not have a cool head when you really need it.  

He didn't think to bring his car — perhaps it's for the best, considering his vision continues to blur and it's not a sign of good condition to hear your own frantic heartbeat pounding in your ears. 

His eyes anxiously scan the faces of every person in his path. Paired with his dazed footing and the sick expression on his face revived every couple of minutes from the nausea stemming from some sort of sensed doom that he continuously swats away, there hasn't been a shortage of odd looks and aversions since he ventured into the dark streets in hopes to find you fine and well out of thin air.

It's been too long to dismiss as a casualty since his calls stopped going through, and yet he insists on redialing your number each time he's met with the automated message that only further fuels his dreadful symptoms, hopeful that your voice will reach his ears again, for that comforting sound to put an end to the infernal crescendo of his insides. 

Just as he's about to redial once more, his phone starts buzzing first, and for a split second his body is at peace and his heart soothed in the spare moment that it takes for him to accept the call and bring the phone to his ear. 

“Have you heard from her yet?” 

The voice on the other end causes his stomach to plummet to his feet for what feels like the tenth time tonight.

It takes a moment for his brain to assimilate that it's not you on the other end and another for him to hate himself for not checking who was calling and stupidly spit a response to an Armin who has no fault in anything, especially for not being you.

Armin, as understanding as ever and assuming the more collected role for Eren's sake, dismisses the frustrated tone in his friend's voice, fully aware it's nothing personal. 

“The security guard says she left a little over an hour ago and Mika called me a minute ago and said she hasn't been home. Are you sure she wasn't going to make any stops on the way?” 

“No, Armin, she would've told me. She would've come here first or she would've at least texted me.” Eren's voice cracks. “Something is wrong.” 

The weakness in Eren's voice is enough to fracture Armin's composure for a fraction of a second.

“Let's go to Levi.”

Hour Three

Being in the police station feels more reassuring than Eren would've imagined. At least this means he's doing something — and something right, at that — and the drive over spared him enough time to ease his nerves, even just a little, as he continued to repeat inwardly to himself that everything is going to be fine. 

Time is everything and frankly, he can't help but feel a bit dumb for not thinking about getting some help from Levi in the first place. He'll find out what's going on — if there was an accident, if you got mugged and that's why no calls go through, or even if your bus broke down and that's why he hasn't seen you when he should have by now. Even if it turns out to be a misunderstanding, better to cause a scene than to sit on his hands. Though three hours without any sign to say otherwise can't be a misunderstanding. 

Eren hunches over, resting his forehead on the edge of Levi's desk, not minding one bit as it digs a dent into his skin. His knee bounces every couple of minutes as he and Armin wait for Levi to get back to them. 

“Eren Jaeger?” 

He looks up to find a tall blond man instead of Levi. 

“Yes?” 

“I'm Captain Erwin Smith. Come this way please.” 

Eren stands to follow the man's lead, only sparing a nervous glance to Armin, who replies with a comforting one from his seat, only morphing into a more accurate depiction of his worry once Eren turns his back to him.

“Where's Levi?” 

Eren's eyes wander the barren space he's been led into. Nothing but a table and a pair of chairs set opposite of each other. 

“He'll be here in a moment. I just want to ask you some more questions about the missing person's report you're filing.” 

“Of course.”

Doing his best to hold in his exasperation at the ticking clock in his head, he dutifully replies to every question he's already answered for Levi when he first walked into the station — what made him come to the station, his relation to you, your description, what happened before he lost contact with you, amongst other basic things to paint a picture of the situation.

“Was there ever any trouble in your relationship?” Erwin asks.

Eren's brow furrows.

“What do you mean?” 

“I'm asking if there was any indication that your girlfriend,” he makes a vague motion with his hands as he reads your name from the folder in his hands, “might’ve been upset with the relationship. Did you ever argue or have any trouble? Perhaps something in the past few days? Or ever?” 

Eren hardens his jaw in an attempt to remain calm. He knew he'd have to spend a while at the station, answering questions more than once — as frustrating as the lengthy process could be, he expected that much. 

Erwin's tone has remained neutral for the entirety of the questioning, and it's only natural to want to rule out any immediate suspects, but it doesn't make the implication of the captain's words any less offensive and borderline cruel. 

“No,” Eren chokes out, horrified by the mere idea that either of you would walk away without warning. That isn't you. 

“So no reason for her to break off contact with you.”

“She didn't break off contact,” Eren spits, growing heavily frustrated at the sudden turn of events. “We were supposed to meet, she was on her way already. I saw her just this morning and she called me first to tell me she was coming home.”

“Maybe she only said that to throw you off?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Just tell me what you might think,” Erwin replies, voice stern. “You say it's only been three hours since you last heard from her but she's a mentally stable, healthy adult. Unless she has any conditions that could put herself or others in danger, chances are she's safe and sound somewhere and this is all a misunderstanding. Was there anything suspicious or weird about her?”

Eren's shake of his head grows more and more frustrated as Erwin does little to conceal his skepticism, which only shapes as a misunderstanding from Eren's increasingly impatient point of view.

“What's suspicious and weird is that she never made it to our date at all and it's been three hours and I haven't gotten a single word from her.”

Eren's expression is one of pleading, yet Erwin's remains neutral and made of marble.

“And it's not like that,” Eren murmurs. “I was going to ask her to live with me tonight. She called me after she left work to tell me she was on her way.” Eren can feel his heartbeat start to pick up as his ribcage begins to close in on his lungs once more as more anxious words continue to spill from his mouth in increasing pace and volume. “She told me she had news and that she loves me. Why would she tell me that if anything was wrong? Why would she say that if she wasn't going to make it to our date?” The crack in his voice comes at the same time as the stinging sensation behind his eyes and the uncomfortable tickle in his nose. “I was making dinner for us. I had this whole thing planned. I wanted to surprise her with all her favorite food and the pictures from the new apartment. I wasn't going to tell her about the pink bathtub because I want it to be a surprise when we move in. She…” He curls against the table, hands gripping his hair in frustration, pulling at the strands to make sure he still feels something because there are just too many sensations overwhelming him as he tries to get through to the man in front of him. “She really wants a pink bathtub.” 

Eren doesn't lift his gaze, just remains quiet and unmoving until he catches a flicker of movement in front of him. It's only when he takes the tissue offered by Erwin that he becomes aware of the tears streaming down his face. 

Levi nearly had a heart attack when he first caught eye of Eren's and Armin's familiar faces walking into the police station. The frantic green eyes and anxious expressions made it clear something awful had happened and hot flashes of searing dread burned inside his stomach. That is until nobody pronounced his niece's name. After that, the flame of pain withered to ashes of guilt, consuming him from the inside in such a manner that it was hard to face his niece's friends knowing he'd felt relief it wasn't his family who'd been affected tonight. 

Levi's known Eren since he was a kid — a bit childish and whiny, but ultimately a decent man with a kind heart. It's been a pleasure watching him grow up and knowing he's remained a good friend to his niece. 

Levi's only met you once. It was at Jean and Mikasa's engagement party earlier this year. If Jean and Mikasa were the happiest couple there, you and Eren were a close second. It was easy to know just how much he adored you, and how attached you were to him. Eren was rarely in a dark place, but next to you his smile was blinding. 

After finding out Erwin conducted the interrogation to rule out a possible runaway case — and how he did it — he still hadn't ridden himself of enough guilt to apologize for making the situation more stressful, no matter what the rules say. 

It's no secret some sudden disappearances hold more danger than others. An abducted child, an older person with dementia, a mentally and emotionally unstable person who's looking to cause harm to others or themselves — they demand a higher sense of urgency than logging the missing person into the system and following up when there's nothing more pressing on the police's plate.

The desperation consuming Eren's features when Levi finally walks into the interrogation room is enough to kick off his own instincts. 

It's upon Levi's insistence that patrols are dispatched immediately. 

Hour Five

When a loved one's safety is on the line, any efforts from authorities never seem to be enough and yet one remains oddly hopeful that the people with a proper protocol should know how to better handle situations that leave one frantic and lost. 

Calls to the nearest hospitals, pings from cellphone towers, two patrols dispatched to the last known location and its surroundings, questions to potential witnesses who have nothing to report or are rather too invested to go back to whatever keeps their attention inside to provide some detailed tips, one patrol leaving because of a nearby break-in and the remaining one left with nothing more to go off of than one grainy clip of CCTV footage that shows your figure walking down the street, and a second clip from a convenience store's outside surveillance camera where you don't show up at all, but the lack of witnesses lead to nothing in between. 

Keeping up the search when there's been nothing gained starts proving to be more difficult when obstacles continue to pile on. Aside from the growing boredom of those in police cars from the lack of fresh information to keep them motivated, the heavy clouds that hover over everyone's head threatens for the case to soon be abandoned for the night. 

Hour Eight

Levi is hesitant to leave. But with no leads — no CCTV footage, no unknown numbers blinking on Eren's screen, no mother, an estranged father, no sign of a struggle at the last known location, and so much yet so little more — there isn't much he has to do than drive back with the pair of worried men to the station for more questioning in case of foul play, while constantly eyeing his notifications for any incoming messages on an assault victim found in an alley not too far away from where your phone was last still on.

Eren refuses to leave. Despite Levi's efforts to persuade him that going back to the station was necessary, knowing he was so close to where you'd last been was enough for Eren to stand his ground. Getting into Levi's car means going back miles worth of steps. It means straying from what feels so much like the right path already. And as ridiculous and futile as it is with no leads, it means losing his grip on something much more solid. 

How easy it would be if a last known location means he can find you just by looking behind a tree or having someone point and say “yes, she's right there”. 

So when Levi makes another plea for Eren to come back with him — he doesn't mention what for to not stir any more nerves — and Eren says no while steering himself down the block for what feels like his hundredth recon of the area — just in case you really were behind that tree in the small playground all along, playing a nasty prank on him — Levi chooses to go back to all the nearby twenty-four hour convenience stores one last time before the downpour begins. 

Armin gives Levi a grateful nod before lightly jogging to catch up with Eren, who's already turning onto the next street. 

“You can go,” Eren calls over his shoulder after catching a glimpse of his friend's blond hair beside him. “I'll keep looking by myself. Besides, it's gonna rain soon. You'll get wet.” 

“What about you?” Armin looks down at his friend's bare arms. “You don't even have a jacket.” 

Eren looks down at his sides, like he just noticed his lack of a coat. He could've sworn he had one on him when he walked out his apartment. You would've been upset with him otherwise, that small pout forming on your lips while your brows are weighed down with disappointment. 

The instant of amusement he feels is quickly consumed by the ache of why he's out on the street with no jacket to begin with. 

The food must be cold by now. He'll have to heat it all up once you're back home.

Light raindrops brush against his skin with a small gust of wind. 

You're still not behind the tree.

It's nearly half past two in the morning. Any civilians with useful information have been asleep for hours, and any passers-by would've reported anything had they seen it, Armin thinks. 

It's chilling to walk down streets so quiet and empty, with the only reminder that this isn't an alternate universe being the sparse cars that drive by. Surely the people inside might find it strange to see the pair walking up and down the streets, turning, looking, flashing their phones to make out shapes in the dark.

The tickle of rain on skin is no longer, but the temperature continues to drop. 

Armin takes on one side of the street while Eren tackles the other. He receives a polite nod from the security guard of a small daycare center, who fails to conceal his look of pity. Levi interviewed him around an hour ago, so he has to know what's going on. 

Armin averts his gaze, his cheeks burning at the thought of some stranger pitying him and his friend when everything is going to be just fine. 

The rain starts up again. Eren isn't around anymore. With one quick scan of the street, Armin spots him rounding the corner to the next street — pace firm but anxious. He's quick to follow. 

By the time Armin catches up, the raindrops have grown in size, a reliable sign that this time, it's for real. 

“Eren,” Armin calls him carefully.

Eren continues walking, flashing a light behind a dumpster in a narrow alley between a family restaurant and a bookstore. 

“Eren,” Armin calls him a bit more firmly to get his attention, but to no avail. 

With brows knit more in desperation than concern, Armin quickens his pace and pulls Eren by the shoulder just before he rounds the corner to the next street. 

“Eren!”

“What?” 

The anger and volume in Eren's voice shrinks Armin in his place for a brief moment. 

Embarrassed by his own reaction, Eren exhales an apology. But his face hardens once more when Armin suggests it's time to go home.

Armin steps back, surprised to have caught a swear word from his best friend among the words he spits back in a negative response. 

But when Eren turns, ready to resume his search, Armin pulls at him again.

“Eren, stop!” he half-yells, quickly readjusting his volume before speaking again to not cause any disturbances to sleeping strangers.

“You don't want to pick a fight with me Armin, I'm warning you,” Eren's voice grows low, but still reaches Armin with the same anger and menace.  

Eren harshly pulls away and continues to storm down the next street, leaving Armin to stumble behind. 

The rain is heavy enough now to spot the pavement faster than it takes for each drop to dry. 

“We need to go back, we aren't going to find her like this,” Armin calls after him. His hands do little to shield himself from the rain. Thankfully, Armin thought to bring a jacket along but it won't do much for either of them when it's bound to be sopping wet in just a few minutes. 

Eren's shirt is already clinging to his skin in large patches down his back, and yet he continues walking with purpose down the street. 

Armin's shivering now under his jacket as he looks around to gather his surroundings. This street isn't far from the office. It's poorly lit which, paired with the rain, is best explored in daylight. There's a single street lamp that's meant to illuminate the area at night, but it's been broken for months and either nobody has reported it, or laziness has kept it from being repaired. 

“Come on,” Armin insists, lightly jogging now and losing his breath under the cold shower as he tries to keep up with Eren, who still refuses to listen. “We'll come back in the morning! You need to get some rest if you're going to keep looking! I'll come with you, okay? But we need to go!”

Armin suddenly crashes into Eren's chest as the latter abruptly turns around in a sudden fit of pure rage. 

“I already told you I'm not fucking leaving!” 

Armin stumbles back, teeth chattering, muscles drooping from his wet clothes and vision blurred by the heavy rain. 

“You can leave if you want to! That's what the fucking police is doing! Just go already! But I'm staying because I care! I don't give a fuck about the rain, I'm going to find her!”

Eren's words pierce through Armin's chest, and the next moment he's tackling Eren to the ground. It's not so much to stop him from leaving this time, but out of indignation. 

Eren falls on his ass with a wet thud, his palms painfully pounding onto the pavement as Armin falls on top of him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt in his hands.

“You think I don't care? Why do you think I'm here, you idiot?” Armin yells in Eren's face. Had the pouring rain not been a factor, he would've been red in the face. But had the rain not been there, Eren also would've easily seen the tears streaming down Armin's face, and that would've taken away from his blue glare. 

“She's my best friend! I'm just as worried about her as you are! You can't decide you're the only one affected by this! That only makes you a jerk and you're not!” 

Eren is tense all over as he holds Armin's surprisingly threatening glare. His chest heaves as a twinge of guilt surges inside of him at his friend's pointed remarks. The stiff breathing makes its return.

“But we have to go,” Armin's voice softens — it cracks and begs. 

And Eren breaks down in sobs. His scraped palms come to his face, aggressively digging the heels against his eyes as if to force his tears back in while his shoulders tremble in cold, grief and guilt. 

“You don't understand!” he cries, his shirt still crumpled under Armin's grip. “I fucked up, Armin. This is all my fault!”

Unsure of how to react to this abrupt change in attitude, Armin remains frozen save for his teeth, which continue to chatter under the deafening rain.

“I was supposed to pick her up. I'm never late,” Eren hiccups. “But I didn't come today and now I don't know where she is! It was me, Armin! I did this! This is my fault!” 

“Eren,” Armin murmurs gently, eyebrows upturned in sympathy as he finally softens his hold on his friend. 

“I can't find her and I don't know if she's hurt or scared or if…,” Eren's words drown in another wave of sore sobs, his lips refusing to let the thought of the worst to escape as a spoken word — to think that someone might have caused you harm and that's what's kept you tonight. 

“I need her to be okay,” he whimpers finally, lips trembling as his body begins to react to the harsh cold surrounding him. “Where is she, Armin?”

It takes a while for Armin to gather his thoughts and catch up to the workings of Eren's mind from this hellish night. 

He often leaves the office with you, stays behind some evenings when he notices you're close to wrapping up your work and can ride the elevator together. Sometimes even accepts Eren's offer for a ride when he's too tired to deal with the overwhelming setting of public transportation — tired enough to not mind third-wheeling for a short while. If the last place your phone was turned on was before you even had a chance to take a bus, surely he could've done something to prevent this mess too. Why didn't he think to stay behind today, too?

“It's not your fault,” Armin finally says, his voice just barely audible amidst the rain and thunder. He blinks up from the ground to his friend. “And we don't know what happened. We'll try the hospitals again later, we'll keep calling her in the meantime. We have Levi helping us, right?”

Eren blinks back at him, slowly gathering that Armin is trying to encourage him through reassurances, and finally nods in response as he does his best to ignore the tight lump in his throat. 

“It's like three in the morning, Eren. I'm not asking you to stop. But we can't keep going like this.” He motions vaguely toward the incessant rain from above and the wet clothes sticking to their skin. 

Armin stands, relieving Eren from his weight as he pushes back his hair with one hand and offers the other to his friend whose reluctance casts a shadow over his usually bright features. 

Eren trains his gaze on the ground, leaving Armin's helping hand hanging for the while longer it takes for him to convince himself that Armin is right and this doesn't mean he's failing you. 

Finally, Eren accepts his friend's hand, who hoists him up just as they both spot Levi's car pulling into the street from the farthest corner. 

Armin motions for Eren to follow him toward the car, to which he responds with a weak nod. But just a couple of steps in, something crunches and gets caught under his shoe. Naturally, he looks down, forgetting the deluge falling over him at the moment to frown at the foreign object. 

Armin glances over his shoulder, sensing his absence, and turns around fully when he realizes Eren is kneeling on the ground, cautiously picking something from the ground that ultimately dangles from his fingers once it's fully suspended in the air. 

Armin retraces his steps, kneeling next to his friend to find his face pallid, and green eyes wide with fear as he stares at the broken chain between his fingers, from which hangs an angel cast in silver with a broken wing. 

His features contort in horrified realization. It's almost ridiculous to turn to Eren for confirmation of what he already knows and can already begin to imagine. But when he does, the latter is already hunched over in the opposite direction, emptying his stomach onto the wet pavement while the nearing lights from Levi's car come to blind him.

Hour Fifteen

Mikasa, Jean, and Sasha step into the elevator wordlessly, the only sounds on the way to Eren's floor being the inevitable rustles from the plastic bags with food in Mikasa's hands. 

Jean offered to take them, but Mikasa insisted she'd hold onto them. Maybe it's because of her cold hands, but it might also be because she needs something to help keep her grounded — literally; she feels as though she might float away otherwise. Because if anyone were to ask her, nothing has felt real since last night after Armin's call. 

The elevator’s hum ceases as it comes to a gentle stop and the doors slide open. 

The same somber silence continues to hover between the trio as they mechanically walk down the hall to Eren's door. Jean takes out his copy of the key from his jeans pocket and pushes the door wide open, gesturing for the girls to enter first before quietly closing the door behind them.

Spare keys aren't rare between them. It was chain reaction that stemmed from Eren's father's passing. Everyone wanted to make sure he was okay. The rest is history. 

“In case of emergency.”

“Can you please water my plants while I'm gone?” 

“Can you check something for me?”

“I'm really sick, just let yourself in.”

“Just keep it.”

Jean's copy has rarely been used. In fact, not many of them have made use of Eren's key once he started dating. Not that it's been a dramatic change, but now there's not much need to be wary of barging in on something they'll all laugh about later. And today, after Eren passed out on the street in the rain, it seems crucial to brush the dust off an old habit for their friend's sake.

The trio is careful not to make any excess noise — Eren might still be sleeping —, but the further they venture into the apartment, they realize their efforts are in vain. 

They expected Eren to be lying on the sofa where Jean and Armin had so carefully helped him settle down, still fast asleep considering it's only been a few hours since. Although Eren's sudden nausea was a mere reaction to finding the necklace, Armin still spent a couple more hours watching over him as a precaution while he cleaned up the kitchen and dining area, and quietly left for his apartment to make another round of calls before work. 

They're met with the view of their friend bustling around his work area in a corner of the living room, his brow furrowed and eyes laser focused as he refills the ink tanks on his printer. Stacks of missing person's posters cover his desk with a handful of faded ones having been scattered and crumpled on the floor as evidence of the ink shortage he's tending to. Your face occupies nearly the entirety of his immediate view, which is why a single glance is enough to distract him from his task that he doesn't notice his friends present in his apartment, nor when the ink begins to leak.

At the instinctive curse word that leaves him in a frustrated huff, Jean rushes over to help him. 

“I'll handle this,” he assures Eren, who only blinks in surprise as he realizes he's not alone. 

Mikasa and Sasha walk over to him unsure of whether a hug is appropriate as a greeting. In the end, they choose to speak the words instead. 

Sasha leaves the conversation in exchange for helping Jean clean up the spilled ink. An irregular blob-shaped stain is left behind on the ash gray wood. 

“Are you– How's your stomach?” Mikasa asks. 

An uneasy grimace makes its way onto Eren's face.

“It's fine. It was just… Yeah.” He shrugs it off, unsure of how to properly explain the incident without triggering more discomfort. 

Mikasa nods in understanding. 

“Armin said you're going back to the police station later.”

Eren huffs at a humorless puff of air from his nose. 

“Yeah. More questioning,” Eren replies, his head continuously shaking in disbelief, to which Mikasa frowns.

“What's wrong?” 

It takes Eren a couple of tries to let the words out, his mouth opening and closing with hesitancy. 

“They all left, Mika,” he softly murmurs, a hint of helplessness infecting his fragile voice, that births an ache in Mikasa's chest. “Nobody could say anything and they got bored. What kind of excuse is that?” 

Mikasa drops her gaze to her shoes, submitting before the hurt and impotence Eren's words awake in her. 

Then she shakes her head briefly, recalling a good thing. 

“Levi's on the case… and there's evidence for foul play now, there's a lead,” she says, trying her hardest to appear more hopeful at each thing on her list. “He'll find her, Eren. This'll just be nothing but a bad memory soon.” 

She smiles, but it comes out sad from the red that tints her waterline. 

Eren doesn't have the energy to try to appear cheerful from her encouragement, and limits himself to a nod. 

“Eren, how long have you been up?” Sasha asks with concern from his desk, where her eyes scan over his computer screen and the stacks of paper with your face printed front and center. 

“A few hours?” Eren replies with a shrug, to which everyone else exchanges concerned glances.

Jean breaks the silence with a loud clap, refusing to make way for any awkwardness in the air. 

“We brought you some food, buddy. Come on, let's eat.” 

Sasha eagerly nods, her enthusiasm a bit too stiff it almost seems rehearsed, as she encourages him to follow them to the dining table.

Eren allows himself to be tugged along for a couple of steps before he tethers himself to his spot for a moment and then decidedly takes a step back under everyone's puzzled expressions. 

“I'm not really hungry,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

“Are you sure?” Mikasa gently asks.

“We got your favorite soup,” Jean smiles, though Eren is too busy staring at a blank point to notice. “Minestrone.”

“Extra parmesan,” Sasha adds.

“It's fine.” Eren assures them with a forced smile. “You guys eat. I have a lot of things to do.” 

“Well, you can't do them on an empty stomach. Let's eat and then we'll go through your to-do list together,” Jean insists.

“Yeah,” Mikasa agrees, shooting a grateful smile to her fiancé. “Jean can drive you to the station after breakfast and Sasha and I can handle the rest.”

Every offer is sensible and comforting, but Eren still refuses. He can't eat, not when you still haven't come home. 

“No…” his voice trembles ever so slightly as his eyes wander around the room, as if looking for an excuse. He ultimately makes his way back to his desk, where the stacks of posters await him. “I'll just head out now. I'm gonna hand some of these out before going to the station.”

The rejected trio exchange another round of anxious, meaningful looks. Mikasa's the first to break away from the group to join Eren in gathering a stack of flyers and a roll of tape from the black metal organizer on his desk.

As her hands roam around the surface of the ash gray wood, the jewel on her finger catches the sunlight peeking through the curtains. 

Eren's movements grow slow as his focus is stolen by the silver engagement ring. 

Mikasa notices the pause in his movements from the corner of her eye, and looks up at him to assess his status. Eren tears his gaze from her ring — embarrassed —, but not fast enough for it to go unnoticed, nor does he remember to ease his hardened jaw afterwards. He moves in silence and sets a fast pace toward the door, leaving an anguished Mikasa to trail at his heel. 

Hour Twenty

It takes a handful of hours for Eren to get back home from the station, with a significant reduction to the baggage he left with. The stream of questions would've been fairly simple had he not been charged with so many uneasy feelings as to why he was doing all of it in the first place. It certainly didn't help that he had to face the same people who had simply left this morning. But he has to do things right — even if it means swallowing his anger to contribute with any useful information.

Social media presence, daily routines, bus routes, habits, friends, family situation.

Saying you know someone like the back of your hand is an odd saying, he thinks. He's not that vain to spend lengthy periods of time observing himself. In his case, it suffices to say he simply knows you — all he's done is look at you. 

He knows your hands quite well. The shape of your fingers, the curves of your knuckles and the warmth of your palms when they latch onto his heartbeat and manipulate it to your will. And now what's been left since last night is a painful cavity. It's all wrong. Your hand should be here, filling his void. 

The apartment is empty, Jean and Sasha long gone. The plastic bags have been folded into neat triangles and the counter has been cleared. Upon opening the fridge, Eren finds stacks of containers that have been added to those Armin helped put away the previous night from the uncelebrated dinner. 

He stares at his packed fridge for a long time, any energy to step away vanishing into thin air and leaving him stuck in place, looking straight ahead until he no longer recognizes the shape of anything inside, and he grows numb at the cold air that slowly envelops him. 

A ring from his pocket is what finally pulls him out of his daze and he's quick to whip the device out and accept the incoming call with pure urgency and no thought. 

“I'm only assuming you've been too excited to call me to tell me how it went last night,” Carla's playfully accusing tone comes through the speaker. 

“Mom,” Eren pronounces in a voice so soft, yet empty as he only acknowledges it's her, but any word that bounces off his tongue is devoid of meaning until he can speak the name he wants to.

“So,” Carla's enthusiastic grin is evident through the phone. “Was she thrilled? What did she say?”

Eren's voice fails him. 

In all the anxiety and chaos, with all the things he's had to do within the last twenty hours, he completely forgot to tell his mother what had happened and that moment is catching up to him now. 

His lips roll inwards, a habit reserved for when he's feeling shy because of things you say or do, and now has come back because of his lack of words — or rather the will to expel them.

His hand comes up to his hair, his fingers brushing his hair back as he struggles to find his voice. 

It's only when Eren takes a second too long to reply that a shift in mood can be sensed from Carla's end of the line.

“Eren,” she calls him carefully, which only makes the lump in his throat grow. “Honey, what's wrong?”

“Mom,” is all Eren can muster, voice cracking as he pushes the word out.

“Did you have a fight? Is everything okay?” Carla's concern amplifies through the speaker, as something rustles in the background, a sign that she's taken on a more alert position.

“You didn't break up, did you?” 

Out of all the things that could've gone wrong last night, Eren wishes that had been it. At least he wouldn't be as helpless. At least he'd know where you are. At least it's something he could reverse.

“No.” 

The word comes out choked, his throat instantly sore for the second time. 

His monosyllabic replies must be getting to her, because Carla takes a deep breath before trying again. 

“Eren, honey. You have to speak clearly, okay?” Carla's voice grows gentle, as it always has whenever Eren would have trouble speaking his mind. Granted, that's been lost as he got older, but Carla's sweet attention hasn't. “What happened?”

Her patient voice finally manages to coax the lodged words from Eren's throat. 

“I don't know where she is. She's missing.” 

Hour Twenty-four 

Rain is bad for detective work. Eren heard about it in a documentary or a podcast, or maybe he read it somewhere — he can't remember. But it supposedly washes away any evidence, making easy cases tricky and difficult cases nearly impossible. Considering the silver angel necklace was found in the midst of the sky falling, it comes as no surprise when he comes home from a casual meet up with Levi at a nearby coffee shop with the news that no DNA or signs of a struggle were found on site after a thorough search in the light of day. The other half of the broken angel wing was found stuck on the edge of a sewer grate, though. Eren would feel any comfort at all if it meant it would lead to something. But at least the necklace can be fixed for when he finds you and this is all over.

The necklace is pretty much a dead end, but it'll remain under the police's hold just in case. 

Eren has never gone so long without seeing your face. Now that the clock has found its way back to the hour you were supposed to walk through his door, it's unbearable to know that you won't. And still he looks over in its direction every few minutes, expecting you to burst in and throw yourself into his embrace, marking the end to a day-long fever dream. 

That's probably it. A dream. No, a nightmare. It's nothing but a wicked play of his subconscious — to teach him a lesson on appreciating you more. Maybe to scare him into doing a better job of protecting you. Maybe he's gotten too lax, too careless. After all, the city hasn't been terrorized by any violent crimes in the last few months. But that's no excuse to dismiss the possibility of danger. Right… There was a killer last year. Two murders. No suspects. No arrests. And there was a burglary just last night. So what if…

No.

Eren pulls at his hair, agitated by where his mind is leading him. He pulls hard on the strands, like they're the reins of his thoughts that he needs to redirect onto a less horrifying path. 

His phone dings as if on cue with a text message.

I'll be there soon, honey. Get some rest, I'll call you tomorrow. I love you.

A tap on the attached file opens up a copy of a plane ticket for the day after tomorrow under the name Carla Jaeger.

His heart feels a tad lighter. 

It'll help to have his mother around for a few days. He types his gratitude into his phone and presses send. 

He lets his face fall into his hands as he hunches over his desk.

Everything will be okay, he repeats to himself in his head like a mantra. 

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale. 

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Everything will be okay.

Outside, rain starts to fall. 

Hour Thirty

The rain has been on and off for hours. 

By the time Eren reconnected with his surroundings, ready to go out and look for clues on his own around the area, the rain was nearly as heavy as it was at three in the morning. 

He sits by the living room window, watching the downpour. His phone is charging on a wooden stool next to him, taking a break from another round of calls to nearby hospitals to ask for any patients bearing your name. Still no. 

His stomach has been growling for a while, but any energy he possesses isn't the kind that'll get him off his chair and into the kitchen — it's the kind that's meant to be used to stare out the window and grow numb over any trivial needs.

It's fine, he thinks. It'll pass. 

Hour Thirty-seven

All five of his friends come through the door a little past seven in the morning, with bags of fresh meals to share. 

Eren sits down this time, allowing Mikasa to fix him a plate and Connie to pour him a glass of juice. 

Nobody mentions the dark circles under his eyes, and Eren's gaze is too lost on a blank point to sense the meaningful glances exchanged all around him. 

There's not much room for conversation. Any sense of normalcy is lost in the thick air. It seems equally wrong to create a lighthearted break for the length of a meal as it is to talk about the empty seat across from Eren when everyone is trying so hard to make sure he's at the very least feeding himself. 

Eren merely pokes and stirs at his food with his fork the entire time. There's a fresh stack of flyers on his desk that demand more urgency in his eyes than sitting down to eat. 

His demeanor is easy to read by everyone at the table, yet another round of concerned glances and subtle nods in his direction being tossed around with silent messages. 

In the end, nobody says a thing and the groups is broken off in pairs to tackle the surrounding neighborhoods.

Hour Forty-five 

Nobody has called. Not him or the station. As the only person outside of the police to be contacted for any updates, his phone should've rung at least once. But aside from yesterday's encounter with Levi and his visits to the station to see if his presence alone will bring something up, there's been a drought in leads. And despite his determination in making sure every person he passes knows anything, there's still nothing. 

It's been hours since his stomach has demanded his attention. It's finally reached the point where it's so empty, it's gone numb. His body is running on nothing more than sheer will and water. 

He should at least try to eat, test if he can hold any food down. 

The fridge remains packed with food, even more now thanks to what's been gathered from his morning visits. 

Ever so slowly, with overly cautious movements, he takes out a container, transports it to the counter and peels off the lid. It's from the dinner you were supposed to share two nights ago. 

His lips tremble, eyebrows upturning for the split second it takes him to grasp back at his composure. An outsider would think he's glaring at his leftovers, disgusted at whatever is inside, completely misunderstanding the mental ordeal he's traversing as he takes several deep breaths.

He pulls out a stool from the breakfast bar, sits down and stares.

Hour Forty-eight 

It's been two whole days since Eren has stepped foot in his own bedroom. 

His feet drag him toward the bed without stopping to flip the light switch. Though the night is cloudy, signaling another shower for tonight, the moonlight still finds its way into the room just enough for his eyes to take in the most basic shapes of his furniture.

He comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, and his gaze zeroes in on the neatly folded white cotton fabric set on the corner. It's the shirt you slept in two nights ago, the one that's the wrong size because it's his and he likes his clothes to be just a bit baggy. 

It's the shirt he gently tugged off your body to feel your skin pressed against his. The one that you take care in folding even if you're in a rush and even though he'll throw it in the wash anyway.

His fingers slowly reach out to collect the fabric.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale. 

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

It still smells like you. Just barely — a mere scrap of notes that have faded over the last two days. A mix of vanilla, citrus and a faint trace of eucalyptus fabric softener. 

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale. 

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Breathe, Eren.

It doesn't work. The air is too thick. It gets caught in his throat and forces a choked sob on its way back out. 

His face contorts in anguish as he falls onto the bed, curled up in an attempt to make himself as small as humanly possible, with your shirt clutched in his hands as the world outside darkens and he simply weeps.

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Notes: Tunnel Vision will continue, just not with the same schedule it had before my hiatus. I’ll be adding word count and progress updates in the chapter guide in case you want to keep up with the story in that way (It’ll also give you an estimate of when the next chapter will be posted. I have ideas for some ficlets, which I’ll do my best to post in between TV updates just so I don’t leave you all hanging with Eren content. It’ll depend a lot on whether I see any enthusiasm for it or not though (aka comments and reblogs that aren’t… well… empty). In the meantime, thank you for the support and feel free to slip into my ask box to chat :)

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[navybrat817]

Indulgence

Pairing: Dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub!Female Reader Summary: When Bucky calls, you go to him. Word Count: Over 5.7k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, D/s elements, bondage, aftercare, established arrangement, insecurities, pet names, longing, possessive behavior, world building, mix of canon and non-canon, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm very excited for this new AU, lovelies! There's a deep bond between these two, but we know the road to love isn't always easy. ❤️Beta read by the amazing @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. And thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for listening to me ramble about this part. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You had only been asleep for an hour when your phone went off, your eyes barely open as you reached for the device and saw the familiar name appear. “Bucky?” You answered drowsily.

“Hey, angel,” he said roughly, the pet name bringing a sleepy smile to your face. It sounded like he hadn't gotten much sleep either. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I have tomorrow off,” you said, a bit more alert as you sat up. “Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I got back a bit ago,” he replied, swearing under his breath. “It’s really late. I just…”

“Need me,” you finished for him, stretching your back as you stood up. If he wanted to tell you he made it home safely from his latest assignment, he would've sent you a text. You knew by now that a call meant he had to see you in person. “Give me a few minutes?”

“You sure? I understand if you’d rather go back to bed.”

“I’m not going to get any sleep until I know you will, too,” you said. It would drive you crazy. “I want to come over. Okay?”

You wondered if the call dropped since you didn't hear anything on the other end. “Okay. I’ll send a car,” he said. He never let you pay for a ride yourself. “Thank you,” he added so softly you almost missed it.

“You don't need to thank me,” you assured him, though you appreciated hearing it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised, your heart skipping a beat before he hung up.

You brushed your teeth again before you changed out of your pajamas. The outfit didn't exactly matter. If it had, he would’ve told you what you wear. It wouldn't stay on long anyway. You sensed that this was a night for him to simply blow off some steam or release anything still pent up from his assignment.

You were more than happy to help.

“On my way.” You messaged him a few minutes later as you went out to the car.

You politely greeted the driver before gazing out the window. If anyone had told you months ago that you’d be sleeping with the former Winter Soldier, you would’ve laughed at them for saying something so crazy. You never expected to meet the man, let alone connect with him. That was your life now though. You were sleeping with Bucky Barnes.

But it wasn't that cut and dry.

“I’ll be outside.” He sent back.

You smiled to yourself as you thought about Bucky, the man searching for himself again. After years of enduring horrific pain and having no control over his actions, he felt lost once he was free. In his eyes, he would never be able to right all the wrongs of the atrocities he was forced to commit, but making amends for his past was a start. It wasn't enough though to heal the cracks from within. It couldn't stop him from plunging into the deep abyss of his mind where it once felt whole.

He had to find a way to feel semi-normal again. He needed to do something good for someone else outside of his heroic duties. And he had to do so in an environment where he could express himself openly, honestly, and authentically with a person he could trust.

That was where you came into the picture.

If Bucky called, no matter what time of day and you were available, you went to his place in a car he paid for. You stayed until you were both satisfied. A more crude way to think of it was that you helped him fuck out his frustrations and gave him a means to inflict pleasure on someone instead of hurt. It was a routine you were used to by now.

“You wanna be my angel?”

You may be his angel, but you weren't his girlfriend. He wasn't in a place to have a typical relationship. You weren't just a fuck buddy either. You were his submissive of sorts, along with his confidant and a way for him to find release and some sense of normalcy.

While he sometimes fucked you like a whore, he never once treated you like one. He cared for your well-being and checked in on you the way a boyfriend would. He kept his place stocked with your favorite snacks. You didn't sleep with anyone else and neither did he. You looked out for each other.

Unlike your last boyfriend.

As far as arrangements went, you could do much worse. There were rules set in place. Bucky was honest about his needs and helped you heal your wounds from the failure of your previous relationship. But the more time you spent with him, the more you wanted to be with him.

Was it a recipe for disaster?

The drive seemed faster than usual because before you knew it the car stopped in front of Bucky’s apartment building. Your pulse quickened when you saw the brunette standing by the door, donned in his usual leather jacket. Even from a short distance, he looked massive and heat bloomed in your core as you knew what was to come. He moved to the curb with more grace than a man his size should have, his hard blue eyes set on you through the glass before he opened the door.

His gaze practically set your heart on fire and it went full ablaze when he tenderly smiled. He was stunningly beautiful even in the dark of night. It almost hurt to look back at him.

You had it bad.

“Hey,” he said, offering you his gloved hand to help you out. You hardly ever saw him out without his vibranium hand covered. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey,” you smiled softly, giving the driver a quick thanks before you got out. “You, too.”

Bucky's large hand moved to the small of your back as he gently led you toward the building and opened the door. He didn't like to linger outside for too long. Neither of you spoke as he guided you to his apartment on the first floor and you didn't push him to make small talk. It was a delicate arrangement and some nights didn't call for filler.

Still, you tried to get a read on his emotions. There was a stiffness to his stance, but he didn't appear upset or angry. You also didn’t spot any obvious injuries.

“Were you hurt?” You asked as he took his keys out. He was only gone for a couple of days, but you knew how dangerous the missions were.

He turned and stared at you, not at all surprised by your question since you always asked. “No, I didn’t get hurt,” he assured you, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. “But I can't exactly talk about it either. I’m sorry.”

You nodded in understanding. It was information you weren't privy to and you doubted he called tonight to talk about it anyway. He peeled back layers of himself, yet there was so much underneath that you didn't know about. You cared for him regardless.

“Bucky, you don't have to apologize for that,” you reminded him.

“I just feel bad. You can tell me about your work, but I can't always talk about mine,” he said, looking both ways before he poked his head into his apartment.

“My job isn’t as ‘exciting’ as yours,” you teased before he let you in.

Bucky had a nice place. The partially exposed brick walls paired well with the hardwood floors. Tasteful, but not extravagant. The thick curtains in the living room matched the drapes in his bedroom. Since he occasionally slept on the floor by the oversized chair, it helped to block out the sun. He didn't have much as far as decor, but he did have a piece of art that his best friend, Steve, drew hung up in the hall.

He also had a bowl that you made on the console to hold his keys, which he promptly set them in.

It meant something that he even let you into his apartment when others close to him had never been invited.

“Need anything to drink?” He asked, slipping his jacket and glove off.

He had an empty glass waiting on the kitchen island in case you did. While you indulged in a drink now and then, he wouldn't allow you to have too many. He refused to have sex with you if you were inebriated. Said it took consent away and you wouldn't be alert enough to use a safeword if necessary.

He wouldn't budge on that rule.

“No, thanks,” you answered, gazing at him.

His T-shirt strained against his biceps, one flesh and one vibranium. You could still smell his cologne from the small distance across the room, amber and cedarwood. Warm, comforting, dominating. All the things he was to you.

Not the monster he sometimes believed himself to be.

You eyed him as he poured himself a shot of whiskey, the need to soothe him coming forward when you caught a distant look in his eyes. He didn't even make a move to down his drink as he set his hands on the counter and stared off. Maybe he couldn't give you the details about what happened, but you could take care of him.

Because as much as he sometimes had to have control over you, both of you had power in your relationship.

“Bucky?” You gently called out, pulling him from his trance. “You can talk to me, even if you have to keep some things to yourself.”

His shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Three months.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Three months since we started this,” he answered.

You realized he was right when you remembered the date. It felt longer yet still brand new. “Yeah. Three great months,” you smiled.

A knot formed in your stomach when he didn't smile back. “And you still feel safe with me?” He asked, gripping the counter so hard you thought it might crumble in his hands. “You really trust that I won’t hurt you?”

Your smile slipped, the questions like a punch to the gut as you walked toward him. You stopped a foot in front of him to give him some breathing room as he made eye contact. Where had that come from? What happened to make him question that?

“Of course, I feel safe. Not only do I feel safe with you and trust you, I know that you won't hurt me. You will always take care of me,” you said with fierce determination, yet with a vulnerability you couldn't hide. “If I didn't believe that, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t submit to you.”

You told him the same thing the day you two agreed on this arrangement. He wasn't your boyfriend, but he wasn't like your ex. He wouldn't just throw you away without a second thought or ignore your needs. You also had faith in him that he wouldn't harm you.

And as much as you trusted him, he trusted you that much more. If he didn't, he wouldn't have called you in the first place. That meant he still trusted himself around you.

He looked away and asked above a whisper, “Do you still think I'm a good man?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation, your heart aching when his jaw clenched. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

He slowly made eye contact with you, a storm swirling in his stare.

“You are a good man,” you stated, needing to reach the part of him that believed it. “And it doesn't matter how many times you ask me that, my answer isn't going to change. Ever.”

Bucky was silent, his breathing the only sound in the space. You were worried that you said the wrong thing before he pushed himself away from the counter. Instead of moving back when he approached, you stood firm, ready to brace the storm. You sometimes felt like a mouse confronted by a lion when he got close, but it sent a thrill through you. Because you meant what you said.

You trusted him and he made you feel safe.

“I just had to hear you say it,” he whispered as he cupped your face.

A fire lit within you as Bucky captured your mouth with his. There was care and tenderness beneath the hunger and you found yourself clinging to his arms as you kissed him back. No one before him had ever kissed you with such desire, such passion. It had you chasing his lips when he pulled away too soon.

“Now go to my room, get undressed, and kneel on the bed facing the headboard,” he ordered, his voice low and allowing the words to sink in just in case you had any objections. Because he was done talking and ready to play.

So were you.

It took you a moment to answer since you had to bite back a whine. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered, feeling his eyes on you as you walked to his bedroom.

You focused on keeping your breathing even as you shed your clothes, taking a moment to fold them before you set them on the chair in the corner. The only time you left your garments on the floor was if Bucky put them there or had you put on a show for him. It was his space and you respected it.

He hadn't told you how long to wait for him, but your heart thumped as you knelt on the queen sized bed. You didn’t see any toys as you glanced around, but there was water, snacks, wipes, and the soft blanket you loved waiting on the nightstand. It took a moment for you to spot that there was a blindfold and scarf on top of the blanket. Your womb clenched in anticipation, an exquisite feeling knowing your patience and obedience would reward you.

Bucky walked through the door a minute later and shut it behind him. The energy shifted completely, both of you ready for each other. As much as you wanted to lift your gaze and look behind you, you kept your eyes downcast as he approached the bed. He cupped your cheek once he was close enough and forced your eyes to meet his.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your skin as you glowed from the praise. He reached for the scarf and ran his fingers across the silk as he glanced at you. “As much as I hate to cover those beautiful eyes of yours and restrain you, I want you to concentrate on my touch tonight. Just let me have you.”

A shiver rolled down your spine as you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Hands behind your back,” he said, moving to secure them once you did so. The silk was soft against your skin, almost as soft as the kiss to your shoulder. After years of being restrained, you knew he felt guilty at times taking your control away. The difference was you gave yourself to him willingly. “Tell me your safewords.”

“Green is good. Yellow to pause,” you stated, testing the scarf. He never bound you too tight, but it was enough that you couldn’t slip your wrists free. “Red to stop."

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You turned your head a fraction so he could slot his lips properly over yours. Gentle, yet hot enough to melt your insides. “My good girl.”

He maneuvered you so you were in the middle of the bed and spread your knees a bit further apart. He joined you on his knees, still fully clothed. Casting your gaze down again, you bit your lip when you saw the prominent bulge in his pants. A hand came up to grasp your chin before you could stare for too long and lifted your head. If you were still wearing your panties, they would’ve dampened from his darkened gaze.

“So beautiful and all mine tonight,” he said.

“I’m yours, Sir,” you whispered, the word “always” unspoken.

“And I know you were staring,” he smirked, his fingers working the button and zipper of his jeans. His impressive cock sprang free once he pushed his underwear and pants down far enough and you wished you could lean down and swirl your tongue around the large head. “Greedy angel. Just desperate to have my cock in you.”

“Yes, Sir. Please,” you begged.

He made a show of lifting the blindfold before he slipped it over your head, your body tensing up when your world went dark. Sight was one of the senses you relied on the most. It helped you absorb most of the world around you. And now it was temporarily gone. It felt like your heart would burst from your chest as you breathed a bit heavier. But Bucky was there, softly touching your face until you relaxed.

“Breathe, angel. I’ve got you,” he whispered, drawing a gasp from you when his lips touched yours. His hands mapped your body, brushing along your breasts down to your thighs. You felt him everywhere. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered as a hand moved around your back and forced you to arch. He was careful not to hurt your arms. “Please.”

Your head fell back with a moan as his lips closed around your nipple. You could practically feel that he looked up at you as he gently suckled. A wave of arousal crashed through you as he pinched the other. No one had ever lavished your body with such attention the way Bucky did.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured against the swell of your breast. “Helpless. Trembling. Needy.”

You didn't mean to let such a wanton moan escape, but he made you feel needed. He made you feel wanted. It was a beautiful thing to surrender to him.

“And I love that I'm the one you trust to take care of you.”

“I trust you with my life, Sir,” you moaned.

And your heart, even though he had the power to break it.

Your chest suddenly felt colder when Bucky pulled his mouth and hand away and you shook from the loss of his heat. His vibranium hand touched your torso to remind you he was close when he shifted closer to you on the bed. You gasped when he dragged his hand down and you were helpless to do anything but feel when it slid between your legs.

“You're doing so well for me,” he said, his teeth grazing your neck as his fingers spread your sopping folds. He teased you, letting you soak his metal fingers as you mewled. He lightly bit you again when he replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding along your slit, but not pushing inside you just yet. “You want me inside you? You need me to fuck you, don't you? Tell me.”

Your cheeks flamed as you whined. “I need you to fuck me, Sir,” you said, trying to widen your thighs to take him in more.

“I will. I'm going to give you everything you need,” he rumbled, gripping your hips with strong and capable hands to keep you still. “And you’re going to let me ruin your pretty little pussy with my cock.”

You panted with want at his possessiveness. Filthy words were something you never thought you’d hear from someone associated with The Avengers and they kicked your body into overdrive. You ached to have him split you open. “Ruin me, Sir.”

In one swift move he lifted you, pulled you into his lap, and buried himself to the hilt. Your mouth fell open as you let out a cry, every inch of his cock stretching and making itself at home in your welcoming cunt. You couldn't brace yourself on his shoulders with your hands behind your back. You couldn't see the ecstasy in his eyes as he let you adjust to his size, but you didn't have to. Not with the way he dug his fingers in and groaned against your shoulder.

He took you to heaven when he was inside you.

“Color,” he said against your skin, thrusting his hips up once.

“Green,” you moaned, reminding yourself to stay still when you wanted him to move. “So green.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, gently kissing up to your ear. “Keep being good while I bounce you up and down on my cock.”

Your eyes fluttered behind the blindfold as he pulled you up and slammed you back down on his cock. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your heart beat frantically in your chest. It was difficult to string thoughts together, but they all went back to him and how good he made you feel. How he made you feel beautiful.

Flaws and all.

“It’s like your cunt was made for me, angel. Practically crying all over my cock,” his voice was smoky as sounds of pleasure tumbling from your lips. The next moan was softer when he slid a hand up to your neck, resting it there as the other kept your hips flush against his. “You deserve to feel good because you are good. So fucking good.”

Your lower lip trembled as a sob worked its way to your throat, “Thank you, Sir,” you whimpered before he squeezed.

“And I. Deserve. You.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust. You didn’t have to see his face to know the fury that surfaced. “My angel. Mine.”

It overwhelmed you as he bounced you in his lap, sinking you down onto him again and again. His thrusts were almost unforgiving, but the hand on your throat didn’t tighten anymore. He couldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m your angel, Sir,” you moaned as he reduced you to a needy wet mess.

“I wanna tear you apart,” he growled against your lips. “And put you back together so you still feel me when you fucking breathe.”

“Tear me apart, Sir,” you gasped, a plea for him to use you more. Your thighs hit his as he thrust up and all you could do was take it. He touched places inside you no one else could reach, physically and emotionally, and you never wanted it to stop. “Please!”

“Tell me you need me to come inside you and I’ll let you come,” he ordered, the hand on your neck squeezing a fraction. “Say it.”

“Come inside me, Sir,” you begged.

“Bucky,” he breathed against your lips. “Say. My. Name.”

Your next breath was shaky. He always had you call him “Sir” on nights like this. Why was this different?

Your orgasm began to crest, but you couldn’t let go until you gave him what he wanted. And he’d give you what you needed. “Come inside me, Bucky,” you exhaled. “Please.”

He swiped his thumb along your pulse with a deep groan, his cock still driving up into you. “I will after you come,” he promised, his tongue sliding past your parted lips and pulling away all too quickly. “C’mon, angel. Come for me. Show me you’re mine.”

The sob you tampered down earlier resuraced, wrenched from your throat as you came. Your release continued, practically leaking around his cock as tears slid out beneath the blindfold. You were beyond rational thought as pleasure spiraled through you, vaguely aware that he thrust through it to chase his own end.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” He grunted, pulsing hotly inside you as he filled you up.

Both of you panted as you continued to drift from euphoria, your heart still beating wildly. You were warm, but your body shivered as he lifted you up. Your combined release slid from your aching cunt once he slipped free. You floated and wanted him to catch you, but you couldn’t put your arms around him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when you let out a whimper. He made quick work of untying your wrists so he could lay you down properly and wipe away the tears still on your cheeks. “I’m going to take the blindfold off.”

Your eyes stayed shut for a moment when Bucky removed it, but you cracked them open when you wanted to see him. Your vision slowly cleared as you blinked a few times, your mind still floating as he came into view. He called you an angel, but he was the one who had a halo around his head at the moment. A gorgeous angel who had unrightfully had his wings taken away. He smiled like he wanted to eat you alive, but his touch was nothing short of tender when he brought his hand to your face.

“So fucking beautiful. You did so well for me. Fuck, I just wanna clean you with my tongue and fill you up all over again,” he praised as you clenched around nothing and whined. As hot as it sounded, you needed a bit of rest after that. “Not tonight,” he smiled, keeping a hand on you as he grabbed a wipe.

A reason he had everything close by was because you craved his touch after sex. If he ever got too far away, you whimpered and reached for him. It made you feel needy, but he assured you that he needed to keep touching you just as badly.

It just wasn’t fair that he looked so composed.

Bucky continued to shower you with soft praise as he cleaned you up. It didn’t take him long before he wrapped the soft blanket around you, trembles moved through your entire body as he put his arms around you, too. He took aftercare very seriously. It was a way for you to feel cared for and nurtured while allowing your body and brain to return back to normal. He never wanted you to experience negativity or sadness after any sort of session, especially an intense one.

You were aware that he moved you closer in his arms and rested his cheek against the top of your head, but you weren't ready to speak yet. It always took you a minute to come back to yourself and he was never one to rush or push you. If relaxing in his embrace was what it took to return to the world, he was more than content to keep you in his arms.

At least, that was what he told you.

You opened your eyes after a few minutes. Your heartbeat was back to a steady rhythm, but you still weren't ready to move yet. You were warm and safe. Bucky was there to take care of you. But what about him?

Had you taken care of him?

Bucky had a faint smile on his face when you lifted your head, his shoulders relaxed and eyes soft. Like he was at ease with everything around him. “Welcome back, angel,” he whispered, peppering your face with light kisses.

“Hey,” you smiled tiredly, your voice a little hoarse as you brought a hand to his hair, happy that you could touch him again. Judging by the way his eyes slipped shut for a moment before he opened them, he missed your touch, too.

“You okay?”

“I am and so are you. You're okay.” It wasn't a question. Whatever haunted him earlier was gone.

For now.

He didn't tear his gaze away as he reached for the water behind him, which you gratefully accepted as he put it to your lips. “You amaze me, you know? You just came back to yourself, but you're talking about me being okay.”

“Isn’t that why you call me?” You asked with a small frown, taking another large sip. “To help you?”

His brows furrowed. “It’s not just about me. This is about you, too.”

You took one more drink before you could say something stupid. Yes, this was about you, too. How he didn't push too far. How he’d hold you after sex and talk with you because those things were important to you. How he made you feel cherished and wanted for a short while.

You just didn't want to admit that he was a constant in your mind. But would it be so wrong if you did? Even if he’d never date you, didn't he have a right to know how you felt?

Communication was key and you would have to eventually tell him if those feelings persisted.

“It’s about both of us and I just want you to be okay,” is what you said because it was the truth.

He set the water aside and cupped your cheek, his calloused hand a little cool, but nice. You almost wished you could hide from his knowing eyes, but he didn’t press you for more. “I am now,” he said, swallowing a little. “I just couldn't let you see me tonight.”

Worry filled his eyes like he may have upset you, but you shook your head. You had seen his scars, but he was never obligated to show you his body. “You're letting me see you now,” you said, scooting closer as he brought your wrist to his mouth to kiss it.

You thought about how the evening played out. How he asked if you thought he was a good man. How he demanded that you speak his name. And how he said he deserved you. Either something happened while he was gone or someone said or did something to get to him. You wished you knew what it was since he didn’t expand on what had been eating away at him before.

“And before you ask, you didn't hurt me,” you told him, knowing the question was coming. You appreciated that he cared enough to check.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Good because I’d never stop hating myself if I did,” he admitted, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “You don't deserve that kind of pain.”

Your heart swelled, not letting any past hurt enter your mind. He made you believe that you deserved better than what you had. It was a good feeling.

“Neither do you. And that's a reason why safewords exist. Both of us can use them,” you reminded him. Like aftercare, he took the words seriously. He listened to you. And if he ever got overwhelmed, he had every right to stop it the same way you did. “So no self-hate tonight.”

He huffed in mock annoyance. “Yes, ma’am. And speaking of self-hate,” he teased, tilting his head to look your way. “I really don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow.”

There was a forced calmness in his blue eyes as you assessed him. “You still don’t like your therapist,” you stated.

One of the conditions of his pardon was that he had to go to therapy. It was meant to help him process his thoughts and past experiences in order to work through them. Though he didn’t tell you what went on in his sessions as it was none of your business, he didn’t keep it a secret from you that the doctor was far from his favorite person.

You wondered if Bucky told her about you.

“What’s there to like?” He asked.

You smiled a little, knowing better than to poke the bear and say she probably wasn't that bad. “Well, being able to speak to someone who provides non-judgemental and empathetic support is one thing.”

“That’s why I like talking to you,” he said, the affection in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh,” you said, not sure what else to say.

Moments like that made you think he cared. No, that wasn’t right. You knew he cared about you. But hearing things like that made you feel like there was hope for more and he wasn’t ready for that.

Hope was both a wonderful and dangerous thing.

“Have you met anyone else?” He asked suddenly, moving his hand to your back.

It was a question Bucky asked every time he had you over. He said from the start if there was another man in your life that you’d rather be with, someone who could offer you more, he’d step aside. There wasn't anyone else. You didn't want anyone else.

And while it was admirable that he would walk away if that ever changed, your heart ached at the thought that he’d easily let you go. Because at the end of the day he wasn't ready for a relationship. Not yet.

Even if he was, who said he wanted one with you?

“No, I haven't met anyone,” you said, feeling the warm breath of his exhale against your skin as his hand moved up and down your back. It relaxed you more and you found yourself fighting a yawn. “Have you?”

“No,” he chuckled. The crinkles by his eyes made him look carefree. “Not since you saved me.”

You shut your eyes, afraid that tears would well up if you looked at him. “I didn't save you. All I did was buy you a coffee one afternoon,” you whispered dismissively.

That day changed your life.

“I’m going to let that slide since you're sleepy, but I’m going to remind you when you're wide awake that you did a lot more than that,” he spoke. He held you a little tighter when you stayed quiet. You were more tired than you thought. “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You let your eyes shut at his command. “Thank you for taking care of me, Bucky.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

There was something else unspoken in the air, but a tender kiss to your forehead stopped you from reading too deeply into it.

In the morning, he’d send you back to your place after he made you breakfast. He’d text you later to make sure you were okay. He would continue to check in and you would do your best not to fall for him more. Because one day he wouldn't need you anymore. You didn't know when that day would come, but tonight you could indulge in the fantasy that Bucky wanted you to be his girl.

Permanently.

I just want these two happy and together. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[star1ight0]

Tenya Iida x Reader

" No need to worry "

I have testing anxiety so here we are me writing this junk and you reading it. Remember not to overwhelm yourself study, sleep eat, you'll do great!

Tenya was a man whose mind was literally like a machine, he tried his best to keep everything to a strict schedule, he had set times to study, eat, sleep everything. Your rather unfortunate sleeping and eating habits worried him. A few months ago you collapsed during training because of exhaustion and lack of nutrition. This resulted in a rightfully worried boyfriend. He made you stick with his schedule for at least a week to ensure you ate and slept properly. You had to admit it was nice to be around him more but old habits are hard to break. Exams were soon and coming along with that is the stress of keeping up, admittedly you were top 10 within your class but that only added to the pressure to maintain that.

Zoned out, in your dorm starting at a math worksheet you feel a hand on your shoulder "You look like you're confused" Tenya says now sitting next to you. "Shit sorry, I didn't hear you. I just zoned out it's okay." You say sitting up and placing your hands back on your work. Tenya walked away grabbing a paper bag not speaking.

He picks up the many cans of energy drinks, scratch paper and small snacks wrappings littered around your work space. "When was the last time you ate, properly." He says looking at the bag of trash, with little to no trace of any real food. "I-uh don't remember.." you say looking down placing your hands in your lap picking at your nails. After a few seconds of awkward silence you picked up you pencil looking back at your homework and notebooks.

Keeping your eyes open was harder than you'd like to admit. Tenya looks at you not a look of disappointment like you had thought but rather concern. "I don't think you need me explaining how bad that is." He says his voice is full of concern as he places his hand towards you signaling to you to get up, you grab his hand feeling an overwhelming wave in dizziness stumbling falling towards Tenya. He Catches you cupping your face "I'll make you some food, go sit down. No more work for tonight."

You look at him a pouty look just as you go to protest his offer he places a finger of your lips "Your great, at everything. You're stressing out and overthinking all of this, that's why it feels more complicated. So sit down and let me make you something" You look at him small tears forming in your eyes, feeling Tenya's hands on your face. You look away from his gaze not wanting him to see you cry. "Hey now, no need to hide your face" you feel his thumbs wiping away your tears. "I- don't want to lose my spot and fall behind" you say voice shaking leaning into his touch.

After a few minutes you sit on the bed looking at the floor as Tenya uses the microwave in your dorm to make you a semi-proper meal. He looks over at you picking your nails. As he walks over he finds one of many of your little fidget toys placing it in your hands along with a water bottle placed next to your bed. "No more studying, it's late. Just eat this then try to sleep okay?"

He walks away returning with your food. "You didn't have to do all this I would've been fine" you say looking up at him food in hand "That's the biggest lie I've heard all day" he spits rather coldly but can tell he's genuinely worried about you. After you eat your food you can still feel Tenya's concerned gaze lingering. "You've eaten and had water, so I think it's best for me to go-" he's cut off by you wrapping your hands around him "h-hey! Please let go" he says trying to pull you away

"I know I've already caused you problems but please stay" you say looking up at him, it was rare Mr. Class Rep ever did anything like this. It's not like your relationship was a secret he just didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea. Despite his protest eventually he agrees to stay. He sits on your bed, you next to him. You place your head on his lap causing a small but sudden flinch. "If you are that worried about your grade you can always ask me for help, I don't want you doing this it's unhealthy and you know that very well. My love.. I love you so rely on me " you feel your face go warm sure if the fact you probably look like a flustered mess he had always tried to be less uptight with you and feeling just how much he meant his words was comforting. "I- love you too" You look at him sitting up and placing a kiss on his lips then cuddling into him feeling yourself drift off.

This was shorter than I wanted but whatever. Requests are open! I try to write when and where I can but I got exams tomorrow 💀

[calico-cheriies]

Hideaway |Soshiro Hoshina x Reader Fanfic|

{Chapter one}

{Masterlist}

{Hideaway Masterlist}

"I want you right here by my side, cuz' I'm dying to see your face. You act like it's something to hideaway,"

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

There it is again.

You could feel your hand slowly travel up to the collar of the lab coat, you pulled at the piece of fabric, trying to find some form of breathing room in the suffocating moment. You had done many practices before with this, that's what the schooling was for... so why did you feel squeamish this time? You turned your back away from the rather gruesome sight, you were somewhat a doctor but more of a forensic pathologist, so you dealt with the aftermath of what happened to those unlucky officers that met their demise with the kaiju's. You shuddered at the thought of meeting such fate, they were monsters who just ravaged cities and took the lives of innocent people, and the officers were just human shields that were trying to protect the people.

You quickly dug through the cabinets in search of a mask. You placed the strings behind your ears and adjusted it, it was one of those late night attacks that the third division had to take care of. You threw on the blue surgical scrub suit and you dug through the box of the gloves to pull over your hands, stretching the glove to go over your hand and up to your wrist. You already had put your hair up and you placed a surgical cap to make sure nothing would entangled into your hair. You finished dressing your up and your ears perked up at the sound of the rustling outside the room, it was at the deepest level of the building due to the grim aura that emitted. You were sure that it was just doctors or nurses working with others to bring the dead down to the morgue until you or your other colleagues could get to them.

Now it was time to get to work, you ignored the continued hectic rustling outside from the attack and you quickly got to work so you could start working on the report you would later write and unfortunately deliver to the families of the victims. You usually let your thoughts wander while you worked, you didn't want to focus too much on the cutting of the bodies and imagining what their last moments looked like. No- you liked to imagine of what the world could be if there was no kaiju. You would've for sure gotten another job, probably something less grim than this...you would have loved to do something in gardening or owning some kind of shop that allowed you to build personal connections. But those were useless dreams in this world- not when the population kept decreasing and the kaiju kept increasing.

You hadn't realized how much time had passed as you kept day dreaming and taking note of the details you gathered. It was the same thing over and over again, the same repeating details that indicted a quick and violent death. You knew you still had a handful to take care of as your other peers did, each body required clean and precise cuts so no major damage was added. Each division had a few forensic pathologists on hand since the attacks could lead to big numbers and it was easy for them to get their hands full.

You kept working, pulling in one after another to try and get through the night. That was the worst time the attacks could've happened, especially since they were picking up as each day passes. Soon they were able to lower the numbers as the hours passed, and you slumped against the counter of the room, your hands slightly shaking from the exhaustion of the repeating cuts and jotting down of notes. You took in a moment to relish the silence that was now prominent, there was no shouts or loud voices nor was there any sounds of life outside of the room. You had already stitched every organ back , or at least of what was left and did your best to try and make the body look someone presentable so the mortician could do their job properly. You placed a cover over the body before rolling the body back to the proper place so it could be transferred to the funeral home.

Now it was time to try and get a little bit of rest, at least after you properly showered. You slowly opened the door and took a peek outside, it was empty and the lights were dim for the night. You made sure not a single person or colleague was around to see you in such a state, so you had rushed to remove the entire attire you were wearing to had some unpleasant splatters from the work. You took a quick glance in the reflection of the windows that you passed by, your hair was messy and unkempt and it stuck to your forehead due to some sweat you accumulated. You didn't want to imagine the lingering smell that probably was coming off of you, the thought was enough to embarrass you to the core.

You quickly rushed through the halls and you rather have taken the stairs up to the top to avoid any interactions with the officers that could have been wandering around from the recent events in the elevators. You wanted to get a few hours of sleep to try and present the reports to your superiors. Of course you never really interacted with them unless it was for work which was just reports.

That's how you liked it.

What you didn't appreciate was colliding with a wall- was the exhaustion finally coming down on you?

It wasn't a wall,

But a man...a really strong man.

You stumbled back, your hands flailing out a bit as you dropped the manila folder with your notes down to the ground. Your back hitting the actual wall this time and your hands were plastered flat against the wall to stable yourself from the forceful contact. A gasp leaving your lips as the person stumbled back only a few steps, you  snapped your head up and squinted to see who you bumped into. The first notable thing was the violet hair that was shaped into a decently bowl cut, and his eyes- they were violet as well. It was beautiful if it wasn't so late at night and when you were in this condition, how embarrassing!

"Yer alright?" Was the first thing the vice commander asked after the initial shock died down, and your  breathing was slightly heavy once you finally responded. "Y...yeah, I'm sorry Vice captain," you were quick to apologize and you dropped to your knees to pick up the thick Manila folder, you cursed under your breath as your hands clumsily picked up the file and you leaned onto the wall for support to pick yourself up. "I hope I'm not bothering you, please have a good night," you bowed your head for a moment, your cheeks reddening as you realized how disgusting you probably looked to him, you were quick to try and walk past him on the other side of the wall.

"Aye," he called out, he found the clumsy girl to be amusing and almost adorable in the way you seemed to try and stay away from him. "Thanks... for what yer do, take care Miss (Y/n)," the way he drawled out your name was enough to make your chest tighten. Seriously- when did you start to enjoy the little accents? Maybe it's was because he was so attractive...?

Your response was just a small squeak, it's like you tried to hum but it came out too high pitch so you just sped up your pace and shut the door once you reached the end of the hall. You wanted to just collapse and curl up until you disappeared from the face of the earth, and you prayed you would never have to see his face again and that your schedule would never align again. That's how it's been for the past while, so this should never happen again.

You failed to realize the vice captain looking back over his shoulder as you left, a small smirk making its way onto his lips as he vowed he would corner you again, as a good vice captain, he should know his colleagues well, right?

{Chapter Two}

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[echoingalaxies]

Content: self-punishment/injury, conditioned whumpee, trauma

Whumpee got up before dawn to prepare breakfast. For so long now, it had been their routine, something they'd gotten used to doing no matter their condition, no matter the amount of pain or exhaustion weighing them down. Coffee with two sugars, and three fried eggs, would have to be ready to be served precisely at 6, and Whumpee would carry them to Whumper's room where he would still be sleeping, wake him up, and stand there, head bowed, wait until he finished his meal and then take the dirty dishes to the sink.

The few times Whumpee had missed the 6 am mark, even by a couple of minutes, hadn't ended well. Whumpee ran their fingers over the scars they'd received for those mistakes, wide and raised under their shirt, as they waited for the food to cook. They kept glancing at the clock, anxiously, shivering at the thought of being late, but they also couldn't hurry too much because the punishment for undercooked eggs would be just as cruel.

At 5:58, Whumpee had everything set up, and taking the plate and the large mug of coffee in their hands, they started to head toward the stairs, moving slowly for their aching body. Whumpee had become really good at counting in their head, so they knew they were right on time, as they balanced the mug on the plate for a second to knock on Whumper's door.

They pushed the door open, flicked on the lights - so much brighter than Whumpee remembered... He hadn't changed the lightbulb, so had Whumper had to do it himself? How come hadn't he told Whumpee to do it? - and went next to his bed.

"Your breakfast, sir," they said, trying to sound chipper but gentle, humble and happy to be there. "Good morning, sir," they added quickly after, almost having forgotten the proper way of greeting. What has wrong with them today?

Whumper, usually waking up to their voice and demanding to have the food immediately, just pulled the duvet to his chin, face deep buried into pillows. He grunted something inaudible, and Whumpee was left standing there, unsure what to do.

"S-sir? It's morning, sir, time to rise. Are you feeling ill?"

"Shut up," Whumper growled, and his voice was odd, but Whumpee pressed their lips together tightly, afraid to make a sound. "What the fuck are you doing, it's so damn early..."

The plate and the mug were shaking in Whumpee's hands as they began to breathe heavily, panicking. They'd been on time, but they'd made a mistake. They'd made some kind of mistake. Whumper was upset, and oh, when he'd wake up, hell was awaiting for them...

"Please," Whumpee whispered. "I- I'm so sorry. So sorry, sir..."

After a few mess-ups, Whumper had introduced Whumpee to an alternative option when it came to punishments of slipping off schedule or not completing their tasks just as Whumper had told them to. Quicker, easier, and for Whumper, even more fun than getting to carve marks on Whumpee's skin.

He'd love to watch Whumpee be humiliated.

"I don't want to waste my time on you when I have better things to do," Whumper had once said. "Make it simpler for the both of us. You know when you mess up. Why not get the consequenses out of the way? Use whatever's available, as long as you clean up the blood."

Whumper was still under the covers, perhaps falling back to sleep. Whumpee was still confused by the situation, but it seemed like he should've somehow known to not bother him this morning, oh no, they'd done gravely wrong, and there was only two ways out...

And they'd made their choice which route to take.

Whumpee set the plate on the nightstand, and closed their eyes, when with trembling hands, they took the mug of still steaming coffee above their head and spilled it all over themselves. Even as cried out in agony, they kept reminding themselves whatever Whumper would have done to them would've been worse, and with any luck, this would be enough.

Whumper was once again woken up by Whumpee's cries, and bolted up from the bed like he'd been electrocuted. Whumpee felt a sting in their heart. Of course they'd want to watch. Why would they miss the show? Maybe they'd be unsatisfied with their pain and make Whumpee throw themselves down the stairs for good measure.

Whumper cursed loudly and grabbed Whumpee's arm, pulling them out of the room and to the nearest bathroom. He shoved Whumpee under the shower and turned it on, turning the temperature cold. He squeezed Whumpee's arms, shaking them lightly.

"Oh god, Whumpee, why would you do that? What were you thinking?"

Whumpee coughed, the water getting into their mouth. They shivered, from cold and from fear.

Another mistake.

Nothing made sense.

Why was whumper helping him? What was all of this?

Whumpee tried to pry themselves away from Whumper's grip and out of the shower, but Whumper held them still.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry -"

"Wait," he said, sounding concerned rather than angry now. "Oh shit, Whumpee, no, stop that. Look at me. I'm not him."

Whumpee did as they were told and raised their gaze to meet the eyes they expected to be gray and cruel, and was shocked to see hazel, and nothing but kindness.

"I'm not him," he repeated, and Whumpee blinked a few times, letting their eyes take in the rest of the person's face. "Everything is okay. You're home, remember? Safe."

The person had dark circles under their eyes. They had a friendly face, although right now, they wore a worried expression. Whumpee wiped water from their face to see better... their eyes must've been lying to them...

"I..." Whumpee begun, stammering. "S-sorry... I should've let you sleep... I didn't know... I'm sorry..."

"Whumpee, shh." The person reached to turn off the shower and then let go of them to grab a large, thick towel they spread on Whumpee's shoulders. "Don't, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realise it was you. You shouldn't even be walking! I thought it was Teammate just annoying me, I was barely awake, I didn't mean to be harsh towards you."

Whumpee pulled the towel around them, turning their head to look around. They knew this bathroom. They'd been patched up here many times before, years earlier. It was Caretaker's.

They looked at the person in front of them. They knew them. It was coming to them slowly, but they knew them better than anyone.

"Caretaker?"

They smiled. "Yeah. It's me. It's okay. You've been home for a few days now, remember?"

"I... guess."

Caretaker helped Whumpee out of their wet clothes and let them shower privately, washing the coffee off their hair and ease the pain in the burns on their scalp, their face, their shoulders.

When whumpee was ready, they opened the door to let Caretaker in once again. Caretaker sat them down on a little stool and started to treat their injuries, talking in a calming matter throughout the process. Whumpee was still feeling lost, his brain struggling to understand what was real and what was not.

"I'm still so sorry, Whumpee," Caretaker said, spreading something soothing over his burns. "I never should've allowed things to go so far that you'd do this to yourself."

"I didn't want you to hurt me," Whumpee said quietly. Caretaker stilled for a second, then continued rubbing the lotion on Whumpee's skin. Whumpee bit their cheeks. Caretaker, and everybody else, didn't know much about what he'd been through with Whumper. They hadn't had many opportunities to talk that much yet.

"I would never do that." Caretaker leaned in and pressed an unexpected kiss on Whumpee's forehead. Whumpee blushed, though they were grateful it probably was hidden by their already reddened face. No one had done that for... Whumpee didn't even know how long. "No one will ever hurt you here. And you never have to hurt yourself, okay?"

Whumpee wished they could keep that promise. But who was to say what happened this morning wouldn't happen again?

"Yeah," they said. Caretaker's touch was gentle and comforting, and Whumpee remembered them as a trustworthy person.

Only it all wasn't up to Caretaker.

And it wasn't up to Whumpee. They didn't decide to forget they were not living in that nightmare anymore.

But if things were to be like this, would they ever truly get out?

[runabout-river]

Thoughts on JJK chapter 269 (spoilers)

(TCB still doesn't have their own translation but some parts of this need to be cross checked with more translations. I'll do that tomorrow.)

We start the chapter with an ominous flashback that brings Mei Mei to an old woman before we make a hard cut back to where we left off last chapter

To my pleased surprise Yuta managed to get his body back though truth be told I did NOT understand the minute details on how that happened. Need to read up on that.

Megumi still feels the aftereffects of Gojo's UV that had crippled Sukuna's DE. This could mean Megumi himself will have trouble expanding his domain but would that be a short term problem or possibly even a long term problem 👀

(Way back when, I had also made a speculative post that Gojo's UV that hit Megumi's soul might've left Megumi with Gojo's ultimate knowledge from all his life but that doesn't seem to be a thing in the end.)

The first years are told not to feel guilty about anything and to be teenagers again. This echoes what Gojo said in the beginning on how children should be able to enjoy the spring of their youth.

We learn then how Yuta survived: because of Rika who independently kept his body alive. When Kenjaku's CT burned out after Yuta used Gojo's DE, he should've died because he couldn't keep the connection to Gojo's body.

Kenjaku shouldve had the same problems but they speculate that he circumvented that with barrier techniques.

Now comes the part where I need better translations because what's said here is too confusing: which CT recovered and was Yuta now dead or unconscious when Kenjaku's CT burned out?

The next question is: how did his consciousness end up back in his body? All this time I thought Kenjaku transferred his entire brain from body to body but that's not the case apparently? 😄

Also, the biggest question right now: what happened to Gojo's body?

I made a speculative post on how this body hopping through Kenjaku's CT might actually end up reviving Gojo.

The main point for that theory is that Kenjaku revives the bodies he transfers into. Second and third points are that the revival is a one time thing and isn't bound to the continuous use of the CT (speculation) and that Yuta "dies" through the end of the CT and through other means

Say what you will but this about Miguel and Larue was extremely funny but also give Larue some respect, Sukuna was in love with him for a few seconds.

The part where everyone discusses their battle strategies is interesting. Gege does sth here I have done while writing fanfics as well: acknowledging how varied and complicated the choices in the plot where and have the characters discuss it.

This gives the chain of events that did end up happening in the end a grounded feel and here it also gives the characters room to interact with each other.

My complaint about these scenes are that they downplay Sukuna's threat and power

Talking about what they should've done differently and how they could've won more easily is ok, but for me this entire conversation was too couched in "we won because of course we did, this was easy but it could've been easier"

Higuruma is alive though but I had that on my bingo card already, his apparent death was pretty vague

It's a funny reveal how the watch room was Rika this entire time, and apparently Yuta/Maki is basically canon

We also learn that it was indeed Miwa who clung to Maki and used Simple Domain against Sukuna to stop his MS. Todo managed to get her and Maki out with his CT at the end.

Without Ui Ui the battle would've been lost, so he really is the MVP

Now comes the part about the New Shadow Style: Simple Domain that was interesting but also added unneeded elements into the story this late in the manga

Some parts of this was mentioned previously like how you made a Binding Vow to learn NSS. There was a woman in a wheelchair once that resembled Miwa in parts who was probably one of those people who's lifespan was sapped away by the Shadow Head.

But did we really need to give this so much panel time? I guess with the mention of Tengen (who was apparently the one who told the good guys who the Shadow Head was) we'll go back to what happened to her and the merger in the next chapter.

What we also got was commentary on how JJ society hindered itself from becoming better because of the greed of people who wanted more power.

Mei Mei speaks of sorcerers who could've survived with Simple Domain and she probably means Nanami. Their stories in Shibuya acted like foils to each other (without that or them being in conflict with each though) so it's relevant to Nanami what she said here.

Overall I think some parts of this chapter should've been cut so close to the finish, especially when this really is the end of the manga. I still have hope for Part 2 though, this chapter was (as I expected) ambiguous about that happening or not.